#murder dave

[jeewrites]

🌈 Sunshine & Rainbows 🌈

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader Equalizer 2 AU: What if Dave survives the fall from the watchtower?

WC: 10.1k (whoopsies) Rated: Explicit, minors do not interact

Content/Warnings: Dave is divorced from Carol (no kids), reference to previous smut, Dave gets a few nicknames, reader is also an assassin but sassy, reader has a nickname and hair that can be pulled, mention of traumatic injuries to Dave, medical jargon, discussion of physical therapy, stalking/murder/torture not described, please remember I had to google “How to preserve an eyeball” for this fic, is murder a love language?, arson, treadmill hate, use of daddy just once, no y/n

A/N: My first Dave fic and my first fic challenge! I got ‘amnesia’ to pair with Dave for @burntheedges's Roll-A-Trope Challenge! I had so much fun trying to wrap my head around Dave as someone who leans towards fluff and feels, so I hope you enjoy my take on our favorite murder daddy. Thank you to @bloviating-vy for being the best beta-reader and encouraging me to write fics in the first place. Dividers by @saradika-graphics. Roll a Trope Masterlist

It’s the pain that wakes him. Every part of his body screams. The tight stretch of skin, itchy and hot. Bruises to the bone. Bones shattered. The sun shines too bright despite the curtains. The increasing beep of the monitor is too loud. How is it possible to hurt like this?

He hears the shuffle of footsteps and the murmur of voices just above the screaming of his body before a shadowy figure appears. He can sense them to his left, but not see them. Is this how he dies? Drowsiness steamrolls him and he slips back to a blissful drug-induced unconsciousness.

It’s been 48 and a half hours and no check-in from Dave. You stare at the burner phone, willing it to beep or ring. Anything. But there is no text. No call. Just the flick and snap as you flip the phone open and close.

Dave has never, ever missed a check-in. Has he come close to the 48-hour deadline after an op? Sure. But never late. And never this late.

You’re not exactly in panic mode yet because it’s Dave, one of the most ruthless and effective killers you know. But you can’t help the anxiety starting to build in your belly and another feeling you can’t quite pin down. It’s not like you love him. But god isn’t he a good fuck, perfect for blowing off steam between covert ops. 

And he understands what you do. He understands you and you understand him. Plus, he was the only one who ever almost got a jump on you when a client hired both of you without telling one about the other. That was almost a clusterfuck that ended up being the best fuck of your life.

The burner phone stares back at you, silent. Fuck it. Now it’s time for you to do what you do best. Find people. Find Dave. 

The doctor keeps calling him John — as in John Doe. While he can’t for the life of him recall his name, he knows definitively, John is not his fucking name. He’s also tired of talking. He doesn’t have any answers, just more questions piling on top of the questions the doc, a psychiatrist, keeps lobbing at him. Everything still hurts, a dull, perpetual throb throughout his brain and body punctuated by acute pain if he happens to breathe wrong.

He’s in a different building since the last time he awoke in crippling pain. This place seems like a public-run long-term health care facility out in the boonies instead of the large hospital downtown he was in before. The doctors and other health care professionals seem harried and perpetually understaffed. While his room is relatively clean, the decor is dated, all the walls a sickly yellow or green. And everything smells strongly of disinfectant. It could be worse, he supposes, at least it’s clean here. 

The psychiatrist leans forward towards him, “Let’s call it a day and let you rest. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

He grunts in response.

Something in his gut tells him to be wary of this doctor, of sharing too much if he ever remembers a goddamn thing. He knows he can trust his gut when it comes to reading people. Watching a steady flow of doctors, nurses, aides, social workers, and janitorial staff in his room, he doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows when someone is trustworthy or a threat. He can read body language at the most minute level with startling clarity.

The head nurse Kathleen is no nonsense and won’t tolerate any bullshit. Nurse Sally does the bare minimum and has sticky fingers. Gotta keep an eye on that one. He likes the neurologist who doesn’t sugar coat things. He’s pretty sure his physical therapist, Ryan, is secretly a sadist.

The night nurse, Brian, is a steadying comfort, always checking on him, “Doing all right, boss?” in the quiet loneliness of the evening. Brian alleviates the pressing annoyance of not knowing his own name by constantly switching up nicknames for him. Calling him buddy, champ, or hot stuff much to his amusement. 

He also knows someone tried their damndest to kill him and make it hurt in the process. Gouged out left eye, stabbed between the ribs, sliced tendons, broken bones, internal bleeding, wrapped in a myriad of bruises and tossed from a significant height. He’s been told repeatedly what a miracle it is that he survived at all, washed up on the beach on the brink of death before being found.

For now he bides his time, giving his body the opportunity to heal and recover. He knows he won’t get far in the current condition he’s in after the multiple surgeries and months and months in the ICU. In physical therapy he can barely manage to walk a few steps without assistance, and he’s still adjusting to the eye patch and the use of his remaining eye. He’s relatively safe for now, he thinks, identity a mystery and off the beaten path. Although a small part of him wonders why no one has come to find him. Did he not have family, friends, or anyone who missed him? 

Dave doesn’t make it easy on you to find him. Of course he doesn’t. Before he went private, or over to the dark side he liked to say, he made sure to replace all of his biometrics in various government databases with false ones. You have to go old school and retrace his steps from the sparest details he did share with you. Brant Rock the text message had read.

You find Resnik, Ari, and Kovac in the local morgue shortly after the hurricane blew through. Kovac and Ari are identifiable easily enough, but Resnik takes a moment, having most of his face blown off. It’s a shame about Kovac and Ari, they were good enough guys and you didn’t mind working with them on occasion.

But that bastard Resnik had once joked, thinking you were out of earshot, what a good fuck you’d be and you were so vulnerable with only the four of them around for miles and miles. You had slid the safety off your weapon at the same time you heard Dave threaten to rip his balls off through his throat if Resnick dared to try anything with you. You were planning to do worse, but hey, it was the thought that counts, right? That was when you knew you could really trust Dave. Resnik, not so much. 

As you approach the next cold locker, for a moment you can’t breathe, suffocating in the thought that the next body you pull is going to be Dave. But to your immense relief, it’s not Dave. Dave isn’t in any of them. It’s not until you slip out of the morgue into your car a few blocks away that you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You allow yourself to sob, forehead against your steering wheel. Crying, such an unfamiliar sensation. Where was he?

It takes you nearly two weeks to find Dave. Listed as a John Doe at the big trauma center downtown, you disguise yourself as a nurse and sneak into his ICU hospital room late one night. Nothing prepared you for his condition. 

“Did Mac do this to you, Yorkie?” you whisper as you trace your fingertips along the ashen skin of his forearm. It seems like the only part of him that is uninjured. The only sound in the room is the hiss of the ventilator and soft beeping of the heart rate monitor reminding you he’s actually alive. Barely. He’s unnaturally still for a man always on the move. You gasp softly when you take in his face, his beautiful face marred with wounds and a patch covering his left eye. Your chest tightens as you turn away to collect yourself.

Refocusing, you pull up his chart. The more you scroll, the more your rage builds at Mac or whoever did this to Dave. Your Dave. Severed tendons and ligaments, shattered ribs, crushed vertebra, multiple stab wounds, ruptured spleen, so much internal bleeding it’s a miracle he’s even alive. What the fuck happened?

He is in no condition to be moved. No matter, you think. While he heals, you are going to hunt down who did this to him and exact revenge. Excruciating revenge. Before logging out of the system you program it to send you any alerts to changes in his condition or if he’s moved to another facility.

Before you leave, you take one last look at Dave, gently run your fingers through his soft brown hair, marveling at how peaceful he looks despite the myriad of tubes plugged into him. You almost make it out of the room without shedding a tear until you really see his nose. Broken, shattered, scarred. Even if you don’t love Dave, you love his beautiful, strong aquiline nose. The way he’d nuzzle it into your neck in rare, soft moments. Press it against your mound when he pulled pleasure from you over and over. The quiet moments after you were both sated and sleepy, and he’d let you trace his brow, the strong curve of his nose, his plush lips, as he anchored you against him.

You are going to fucking destroy whoever did this to him.

The doorbell footage at Dave’s apartment confirms that Mac is the culprit behind Dave’s injuries. 

The Robert McCall visit. The tense conversation outside with Dave and his guys and Robert. The false cheerfulness, the underlying tension bubbling underneath in the clench of Dave’s jaw, the threat from McCall to Dave and the guys, “The only disappointment in it for me is that I only get to kill you each once.” You bristle with barely contained rage at his words.

Good thing you know enough about the human body to resuscitate it. Looks like you’ll just have to give Mac a lesson on how to kill someone over and over. How unfortunate for him.

The most popular bets to his previous profession are linguistics professor or foreign service.

He discovered his fluency in Farsi when he overheard family members of another patient speaking it in the hallway outside of his room. It took him a moment to realize he understood what they were saying. Shortly after, he overheard several nurses conversing in Spanish and realized to his amazement he understood them too.

“Wonder what else you can speak, professor,” Brian the night nurse muses as he pulls out an assortment of chocolates in a gift tin. That’s a new nickname. “Here, have some French chocolate. Someone gifted them to me when they were discharged.”

He reaches for one gingerly, focusing on the pincer grip to pick a chocolate up. It has been a struggle learn how to use his entire body again once it healed enough to be subjected to OT, PT, talk therapy, and other forms of torture.

He frowns at the sweetness of the truffle as he takes a bite. 

“No good?” Bri asks.

“Too sweet,” he mumbles. “But thanks.”

Belgian is better, he thinks to himself before pausing. How does he know that?

Brian grins at him before setting down the tin and checking his chart, “That just means more for me, champ.”

Glancing at the tin, Dave stifles a sharp inhale when he realizes he can read the French printed across the lid.

Discovering or rediscovering who he is has been… interesting. Some of the discoveries raised his spirits, like discovering his impressive ability to guess who was walking into his room based on the sound of their gait or how much a person weighed within a few pounds. Some discoveries though left him questioning what kind of person he really was. An emotional rollercoaster he’s ready to get off of immediately. If only he could just fucking remember!

Aside from being able to read people insanely well, he’s put together that he’s a bit of a control freak and likes things neat and orderly. The bullseye tattoo on his left hand had one nurse guessing that he was an olympic sharpshooter, but no olympian in recent memory remotely looked like him. He knew he had been found in a camo pullover and cargo pants, or what remained of it. Another nurse guessed that perhaps he liked hunting for sport. After all the speculation around the bullseye tattoo, Brian started only referring to him as killer. Curiously, he didn’t seem to mind that nickname. The wedding band tanline made him wonder if he is recently divorced or actually married, but took his ring off for more nefarious reasons. Was he a cheater? Did he have kids? What kind of man was he? 

The strangest discovery came the first time orange slices appeared on his lunch tray. He found himself comforted by the smell of citrus as he ate them. Relaxed even, for the first time since he woke up. And also inexplicably aroused. His body had been so broken it had been months since he felt any tingle or whisp of desire, the feeling so unfamiliar it shocks him. What kind of kinky shit was he into?

That night he dreams of rain forests and citrus, relaxing in a familiar embrace he can not name. He wakes up the most refreshed he’s felt since he woke up in the ICU, body screaming in pain. And yet still he can’t explain why.

Sweat pours off of him as he grips the side rails of the treadmill. The PT room is absurdly bright and cheerful for the types of torture it routinely sees.

“You did great, man,” Ryan, his favorite physical therapist, praises. “Going to be running marathons in no time.”

He just grunts in response. He hates running. This he knows in his bones. Hates it. But he has come a long way from barely managing a step with assistance to walking on the treadmill for the first time. A stupid long painful way.

A sudden frustrated yell across the room jerks his attention to one of the newer patients across the room just as an exercise ball is flung in his direction. He reacts before can think, ducking and moving, assessing in a split second the source of the danger and prioritizing three different options in subduing the threat. He misjudges the distance of a table corner, bruising his hip as he dashes by. Damn his depth perception issues, he thinks. Just another thing to work on.

He surprises himself when he finds himself expertly pulling the patient off balance into a chokehold until security arrives. His body knows exactly how much pressure to put to neutralize the threat without killing him. Why does his body know this? Christ.

“Holy shit, man!” Ryan exclaims, helping to pull him up from the ground. “Where’d you learn to do that!”

“Can’t remember,” he groans as he feels his body protest the sudden intense movement. “Think I set myself back with that stunt.” He slumps over in a chair as sharp pain shoots up both his arms. He allows Ryan to fuss over him before one of the aides brings him back up to his room in a wheelchair. One step forward, three steps back it feels like.

It’s not until he’s settled into the privacy of his own room with a healthy dose of painkillers does he start to tally all of his mysterious abilities. He rubs the itchy scruff growing on his face with irritation. He hasn’t had a proper shave since he got here. And he probably won’t, at least not until his fine motor skills get better to do it himself. The staff are just too overworked here. He huffs to himself. He’s probably more of a danger to himself than anyone else right now. 

With all his language skills, keen sense of observation, and now apparently mad jiu jitsu skills, what did it add up to? Who the fuck was he?

In the weeks following your visit to see your Dave in the ICU, knowing he has a long road to recovery gives you the time and space to track and hunt Mac. In true Dave fashion, he didn’t give you much to work with, just one single conversation about Robert McCall, but that is all you need.

Shortly before Dave missed his check in, he let you wrap yourself around him as the big spoon after having his way with you. He was uncharacteristically spooked, he told you, after running into his former team leader while out on a run. Robert McCall, Mac, was presumed dead. Dave swore he saw him die that day over seven years ago, setting off a chain of events leading to Dave going private with his guys. The impact of Mac’s death, the grief and the disillusionment that followed after leaving the service. 

You knew about the job in Brussels—Susan—and the difficulty Dave was having tying up loose ends. Especially now with Mac resurrected from the dead and digging into Susan’s murder. He briefly mentioned Mac showing up at his apartment and confronting him and the guys a few days after the unexpected reunion. The doorbell footage you found confirmed this conversation.

You asked him if Mac was now a loose end.

Turning to face you, his eyes darkened with affirmation, “But I have a bad feeling about it, Sunshine.” 

Mentally you beat yourself up for not pressing Dave more about this bad feeling at the time because you were too busy preening at the pet name. It marked the first time Dave ever met you at your place, raising an eyebrow at your maximalist design choices. It’s like a rainbow and unicorn threw up in here, he had grumbled. Too bright, so sunshine-y. You’re just jealous your place looks like it was decorated by someone allergic to color, you had quipped before he hauled you over his shoulders into the bedroom with a growled I’ll show you jealous, Sunshine.

You tried to smooth the furrows between his eyes. “Can I help?” you whispered before pressing a kiss to the curve of his nose.

He tensed before pulling back to look at you, “No. Don’t want you anywhere near him, baby. Mac’s a killer. He — he taught me everything I know.”

You protested but the look he leveled you with ended the discussion even if you wanted to push back and insist. 

“You’re helping right now,” Dave consoled you, laying you back and slotting himself between your legs. “Reminding me I have this to come home to.”

The brief realization he had referred to you as home, quickly disintegrated at the pace he set, burying himself in you, sliding deep into the place only he could reach— the place you think of as his. He left early the next morning, pulling a black beanie over his head before kissing you goodbye. “See you in 48, Sunshine.” 

You believe Dave when he said Mac was a killer, the best he knew. So you are meticulous in your tracking. In rare form, you make sure your contingency plans have contingency plans, even if you prefer flying by the seat of your pants. You only allow yourself to feel the quiet thrill of the hunt in order to keep the raging fury that threatens to make you slip up at bay. You summon patience you didn’t know you possessed as you slowly lay your trap and draw Mac in. 

Robert McCall has a weakness for damsels in distress. And for extracting his own sense of justice in situations he came across, serving as sole judge, jury, and executioner. It rankles you to see him decide the fate of others, to right a wrong according to him and him alone. 

But who are you to judge him when you decided to be his judge, jury, and executioner? So you lure him in and give him exactly what he always looked for. In the end, he is just like any other man really. A talented man, a ruthless killer sure, but he could never match your cunning combined with your wrath, your fury at what he did to Dave. 

You keep the feelings at bay as you set the trap in motion until he is soundly in your snare. And even then, you don’t let the rage get out of control because you know your weakness in close combat. You won’t give him an opening to escape or kill you because you can’t stay cool and collected.

By the time you’d laid your trap for Mac, you got a ping from the hospital notifying you of Dave’s transfer to a long-term rehab facility. You pat yourself on the back for the perfect timing. Execute the target and then go check on Dave.

In the end, Mac isn’t that much different from any other kill you executed on the job. Just more satisfying in the end. You did it for Dave, afterall. Your Dave.

He decides that even if he doesn’t like the colorful scrubs the new nurse aide wears, she seems trustworthy enough, even if he struggles to get a more accurate read on her. It’s the first time he’s had trouble reading anyone since he woke up. So he sets aside the puzzlement as Brian introduces him to her. Maybe it’s because of how pretty she is, beautiful really, and how attracted he is to her, a pull that takes him off guard.

“Hey Killer, want to introduce you to our new nurse aide,” Brian says, gesturing to her as she stands a bit shyly next to him. “She’s gonna be helping me out so I don’t feel like a vampire all the time with these night shifts.”

“Killer?” she blurts out making an incomprehensible face before hiding behind a small smile.

“Gives me a reputation. I don’t mind.” He shrugs, smirking at the nickname. “At least until I figure out my real name, no one’s going mess with me. Nice to meet you…?”

The aide makes a funny noise in her throat as he extends his hand to shake hers. She recovers quickly as she takes his hand in hers. Something flickers behind her eyes, something warm, familiar before it fades away as she murmurs her name, Sunny, and tells him to let her know if he needs anything. The pull towards her strengthens as soon as his hands envelope hers, so soft and warm, that he doesn’t want to let go. Something feels so right at her touch. He murmurs her name before she pulls away to make the rounds with Brian.

You aren’t prepared to see Dave. You thought you were. You mentally talked yourself through it before you made your way up to his room with your new supervisor, Nurse Brian. You memorized everything from his chart, and know that he still has severe amnesia, still struggling with remembering anything at all, but nothing prepares you to be in the same room as him and not have a flicker of recognition across his face. His remaining deep brown eye levels a coolness at you that you haven’t seen since the first time you met and tried to kill each other. 

This is bad. After everything, the missed check-in, the frantic searching, the revenge-ing to avenge him, the utter lack of recognition across his beautiful face cracks something in you. You barely recover enough to shake his hand and leave his room upright, telling Brian you have to go to the restroom before meeting any other patients.

Tears prick your eyes and you try to calm your breathing, not wanting to face the tsunami of feelings crashing down on you. When did these feelings for Dave get so out of hand? 

You haven’t needed anyone since you cut off your abusive family and left home to find your way in the world. You learned to be alone, thrived at working alone in a corner you carved out for yourself. You filled your home with art and color and brightness after you realized you had the power to make your own sunshine. Who else would? Definitely not your shitty family. 

And plants. So many plants, your bedroom painted a shade of deep, lush green. Filled with plants. It was like your own personal rainforest. So what if you worked in the dark, creeping in the shadows, a killer for hire? It didn’t mean you had to make it your whole damn personality.

Oh, but Dave. He was the unexpected cherry on top, a force of nature who brought more exciting ops to your life, along with mind-numbing pleasure. Intermittently at first, then regularly. You liked the control you’d cede to him after months of dancing around each other, building trust, moving from fucking in seedy motels after ops to his place or yours. The way he could fuck your worries and stress straight out of your pretty head. Apparently something had shifted without you realizing. Pesky feelings.

Fuck. You care. More than you were willing to admit before Dave almost died. You were too full of rage to feel anything else. You convinced yourself that the revenge you sought when you hunted down Mac was exactly that. Revenge. But now that the rage and fury had ebbed, you face down the why behind your need for revenge, realizing you did what you did because you cared. About Dave. Maybe you lo — lov — Fuck. What if he never remembers what you had together? What exactly did you have with him before, anyway?

He looks good though, even with the patchy scruff and fading scars across his face. The slightly lost expression on his face. Even if you can sense his discomfort in his body, in the way he sits by the window pretending to read a book. He looks so different, skin warm and golden, so alive, from the last time you saw him in the ICU. And his nose, the nose you love healed after all, healing back into its original strong curve.

As much as you want to run back into his room, yelling his name and shaking him until he recognizes you, telling him everything, you know you have to steel yourself for this next part, to allow him to heal and remember at his own pace. Wasn’t that what the doctor had written in his chart? Pushing him too hard will have less-than-ideal outcomes. 

You sigh as you wash your face and take a deep breath. This part of the journey is going to be infinitely harder than finding Dave and killing Mac. But at least now he has you to help him jog his memory and watch his back. You lift your head up to walk out of the restroom, refusing to acknowledge the question prickling down your spine. What if he never remembers you’re his Sunshine?

It storms the first night of your shift, winds howling as you make your rounds and tend to the patients assigned to you. You do most of your menial work with one eye watching Dave, learning his routine and keeping tabs on him. It comforts you to know that he has a genuine rapport with nurse Brian, and has been making significant progress in his physical therapy. You get a sense he doesn’t trust the psych doc very much and has been frustrated at recovering his fine motor skills from the nerve damage in his arms. Must be why he doesn’t shave much, you think to yourself. The facility he’s in is fine for a publicly funded place, but you can tell the staff is overworked and underpaid. Your hourly wage is laughable. And everything is painted in this drab yellow that is an insult to the color. You’d read in his chart that the local precinct had put out feelers trying to identify the resident John Doe without much luck. You hope the luck holds out long enough for Dave to heal sufficiently so you can break him out of here before someone who shouldn’t find him does.

The bright flashes of lightning and roaring thunder keep you awake in the wee hours of your shift, strong winds whipping tree branches against the building, even as the patter of rain threatens to lull you to sleep. As you walk the sterile corridors, passing by Dave’s room you hear him yell out in panic, in fear.

It’s all you can do to stop yourself from sprinting into his room, ready to take out whoever is attacking him. You realize in the darkness of his room, illuminated only by a small night light, Dave is alone in his room, still asleep.

You realize he’s having a nightmare as you watch his eye work beneath his eyelid as he mutters, “Show yourself. Show — Show yourself Mac…” before trailing off. His face winces in pain as he jerks under the covers, panting to catch his breath before flinging his arms around like he’s trying to throw a punch.

For a moment you’re frozen, unsure of what to do as you realize he’s likely reliving his last encounter with Mac in real time. Careful not to use his real name, you put a firm hand on his arm to calm him, hey hey hey, to wake him up before he strangles himself in his sheets. As you make shushing noises he jerks the arm out from your grip, grabbing a hold of your throat before gasping awake, right eye wide in terror.

He apologizes profusely once he really wakes up and gets his bearings. It’s the same dream that haunts him every time it storms outside. Bubbling up from his subconscious every time it storms. He’s up high on a tower or lighthouse by some body of water. Rain whips across his face as the waves crash against the shore. He’s impatient, livid, but also… scared? Somehow he knows the before version of him would never admit the last thing.

He’s waiting for someone who is a danger, a threat. What’s taking so long? He remembers yelling, calling a name, Mac, — who is Mac?— before the dream shifts and he’s in indescribable pain. The most pain his body has ever felt slashes through him, punches into his ribs before he’s falling, falling, falling. It’s the icy cold that wakes him every time, shocking him back to consciousness. But this time he wakes up looking into the eyes of the pretty new aide with one of his hands clutched around her throat.

Well, this isn't the first time he’s had his hands around your throat. The dirty thought skitters across your mind, although that situation is preferable to this one. The thought amuses you, even as you start to feel the oxygen deprivation. It is a nice memory though, you think, being bent over your sink while Dave took you from behind. Arching you up with the tug of your hair to watch him in the mirror. It was after the one time you were almost late for a check-in and he was punishing you for it. For making him worry. If you’re early, you’re on time. If you’re on time, you’re late, Sunshine. Simpler times, you think. 

You inwardly sigh and try to figure out how to get out of his chokehold without hurting either one of you. You settle for anchoring one hand to the one on your throat and twisting out of his grip while leveraging his elbow as gently as you can manage to avoid setting him back in his recovery. 

He’s still gasping for breath as you try to soothe him with your voice, now scratchy from his grip. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” you comfort as you pat his back.

He starts apologizing immediately, a litany of shit, I’m so sorrys, until you level him with your best stare and quip, “I see where you get your nickname from, Killer.”

He stops long enough to bark out a laugh, before asking again if you really are okay. 

“I should be asking you that,” you respond. “Seems like a hell of a dream.” You see him retreat back into himself, at whatever horrors had surfaced in his mind.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you venture, sliding a hand over his. It’s clammy and cold. You feel him start to pull away before stopping.

“I think it’s what happened… before,” he finally answers with a thick swallow, looking away. “No one needs to hear that shit.”

You squeeze his hand for encouragement. “Try me.”

To your surprise he does. After Dave recaps his nightmare as best he can, his hand still in yours, you begin to think that you let Mac off way too easily. Shoulda tortured him more before pulling the plug, you frown internally. Because holy shit, that man really put Dave through the ringer. 

“Thanks for — for listening, I think it helped,” Dave squeezes your hand and looks at you with a surprisingly soft expression. Soft Dave, you never thought you’d see the day.

“Of course, Killer,” you squeeze his hand back before offering to get him some water. He accepts and hesitates as if he wanted to ask you something else. You stand but linger by his bedside giving him a moment.

“Will you — will you stay? Just for a bit, until I fall asleep?” 

After you get him some water, you stay — your hand in his — until he drifts off into an uneasy sleep.

He decides he likes Sunny, not just because she’s pretty, but because she keeps him on his toes with her quick wit and dark sense of humor — to match his own he learns — that makes the days go by faster. Just another thing he learns about himself that just brings more questions than answers.

He can’t help smiling as she checks in with him for the day, wanting to know if he needs anything. “Brought you a present,” she smiles at him so brightly it leaves his brain stuttering to respond. “Your room is so boring, figured you could use a plant.”

She places it by the window before turning with a look to see if he approves. He does. He doesn’t know why but the little green thing feels familiar, a comfort like home. He scratches at the irritating scruff on his cheek before finding his words to thank her. 

“I have some extra time today, do you need a shave?” she asks, like she can read his mind. “Looks itchy.”

“Yes. Please.” The look of relief on his face must be palpable because she immediately leaves to grab a razor and shaving cream. 

The thought that she could read him so well, as if his mind is an open book screams to the front of his mind. His stomach twists at the thought. A creeping suspicion fills him as she approaches with the razor. What if she actually knows who he is, but he just doesn’t remember her? It would explain the inexplicable familiarity that came whenever she visited his room. What if the sunny personality is all an act and she’s actually a cold blooded killer sent to finish him off? Perhaps he should be more suspicious of her. He’d only known her for a week and she is the only person he couldn’t get an accurate read on. 

His chest constricts at the recurring fear that someone had wanted him to hurt badly before trying to kill him. It really was only a miracle he survived. And now he was willingly allowing this stranger into his personal space with a sharp object. Could you kill someone with a disposable razor? Not ideal, he thinks, but possible.

“Everything okay?” she asks him as she sets up the side table with shaving accessories. 

He hesitates, conflicted with his most recent revelations as she moves closer to him.

“Look, if I was going to sever your jugular a disposable razor wouldn’t be my first choice,” she dramatically rolls her eyes at him before looking at him for consent to start.

He lets out a nervous giggle, a sound he’s pretty sure he’s never made in his entire life.

“Not my second, third, or fourth choice either, okay?” she continues. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m not the one with the nickname ‘Killer.’” 

She has a point. And she did just bring him a plant. And comfort him after one of his ridiculous nightmares the very first night she was here. If there was a moment when he was most vulnerable, that was her chance. He pushes away the feelings of suspicion and nods, allowing her to get started.

He couldn’t help leaning into her touch as she gently washes his face and smoothes on the shaving cream. The way the fading light from the window caught the flecks of colors in her eyes as she focused on the task at hand. He couldn’t help but think how cute she looks with her furrowed brows, all her attention on him. He decides the odds are low she was there to kill him considering how careful and gentle she is. He closes his good eye and allows himself to enjoy himself. Who knew getting a shave was such an intimate experience? He could feel himself relaxing under the warmth of her touch and the delicate scent of her citrus-y shampoo wafting across his nose at this close proximity. Something tugs on his mind at the scent, but she interrupts the thought.

“So what do you think, Killer?” she asks.

As he cracks open his eye, he realizes she’s holding up a small mirror. Time slows down at the same time his heart rate speeds up as he takes in his clean-shaven reflection. It’s like he suddenly remembered why he walked into a room after forgetting all this time.

His name is Dave. Dave motherfucking York.

When he says his name out loud, you let out an audible gasp you tried to cover as true surprise.

“This is huge! Dave, do you — do you remember anything else? Last Name?” You blurt out. 

His lips briefly purse before his face flickers just for a moment, his tell, before he shakes his head no. 

Liar. You immediately know he’s lying to you. He fucking remembers. You can see the cogs whirring in his brain, assembling all of the new information he unlocked when he looked at his reflection.You busy yourself tidying up the shaving accessories, watching him from the corner of your eye, hoping that he recognizes you.

It’s coming back to him, you can just tell from the way he’s holding himself up now, even just sitting in the chair, his posture is different. The lost expression is gone. The calculated, commanding presence of the Dave York you know is emerging right before your eyes. 

Dave York is remembering.

He startles you when he speaks to you again, low and almost menacing, “Don’t tell anyone else. I’m not… ready to share yet.” His expression flashes dark at you.

Ah yes, the patented Dave I’m-telling-you-not-asking-you York.

“Of— of course. Take all the time you need,” you respond.

The next time you glance at him, he has that expression on his face where he’s assessing someone, assessing you, deciding if they are a threat or not. Great, the last thing you need is Dave trying to off you before he remembers who the fuck you are. 

“I promise. I’m not going to say a word,” you try and reassure him. 

He offers a nod, a dismissal really, before turning to look out the window, back to whatever memories may be emerging from the abyss of his mind.

You’d think that Dave remembering would be a good thing, but unfortunately the feds figure out who he is at the same time. You’re on shift, loitering by the nurses’ station when you see two nearly identical government looking guys turn the corner into the wing of the facility just after dinner. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, you think. And they reek of federal agents. FBI, specifically. Shit.

Dave has been more withdrawn since remembering his name. Brooding by the window. Typical Dave. You keep up your act, checking on him and chatting with him, hoping really for any glimpse of recognition, but still none so far. You can tell he’s still assessing you, trying to decide if you really are just a peppy aide or dangerous foe waiting to strike.

You busy yourself nearby as the feds chat with Brian, eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Wait, that guy’s wanted for murder AND treason??” Brian exclaims. “But he’s so… docile.” You quietly snort to yourself at that word being used to describe Dave York.

“And a whole list of other things, but those are the big ‘uns,” one of the feds responds.

They continue to chat with Brian, trying to determine how much Dave remembers and what condition he’s in in order to transport him.

“Psych notes still say he doesn’t remember very much. But physically he’s actually almost ready for out-patient rehab,” Brian scans the electronic chart.

“Gotta put in the transfer ’n get him to our medical facility,” Tweedle Dee nods to Tweedle Dum. “We’re going to post someone on the floor to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.”

Shit, shit, shit.

“Well, as long as they’re discreet,” Brian warns. “Don’t want to disturb the other patients on the floor.”

“Roger that,” Tweedle Dum responds before pulling out his phone to make a call.

The agents nod at Brian before walking back down the hallway. You see them briefly stop outside of Dave’s room before continuing on their way. 

Well, it looks like you’re breaking Dave out of here whether he remembers you or not. This should be fun. Hopefully he doesn’t try to kill you in the process.

Dave senses something is off before he even sees the two feds walk by his room on the way to the nurses station. He knows they’re there for him. By their gait and posture, they don’t seem like they’re in a particular rush to storm his room, so he bides his time, even as he slips a scalpel up his sleeve. He can’t run. All he can manage is a quick walk with a limp. There’s no way he can run fast enough or long enough to evade two federal agents, even if they look like Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. Fuck, he thinks. He should have pushed harder in PT. 

He resumes sitting by the window, angling himself into a better position to attack if they decide to take him in today and waits. Hopefully, it won’t come to that. 

He holds his breath when the agents walk by his door again, pausing for just a moment. He makes sure to observe them so he’ll be able to identify them again if, when, they return. Fuck, he needs to come up with an escape plan. 

He lets out a sigh of relief as they walk away. What the fuck is he going to do? Where is he even going to go? He’s sure he doesn’t have much time, a day at most. Of everything that has returned to him, he still cannot remember any of the safe houses or stashes of money/fake IDs he’s sure he has… somewhere. 

Remembering has been… more bitter than sweet. His rough childhood and divorced parents both deceased, his own divorce from Carol, the stint in the military, black ops, the DIA, before going private. Then it all gets hazy. Were the dreams about Mac real? But how could they be if Mac was dead? Was Mac actually still alive? Remembering all of the heavy stuff was like grieving it all over again, all at once. It was fucking depressing.

As he shuffles to the bathroom to splash water on his face to help him think more clearly, he hears someone walk into his room. By the sound of the light stride, it’s the pretty aide that still talks to him even if he almost strangled her in his sleep. What if she’s making the move to kill him now, after all this time, because she saw the feds coming to take him away? As she rounds the corner, he moves out of instinct, pinning her against the wall with a forearm to her neck, scalpel out and ready. 

She lets out a squeak as he expects, before he cuts off her airway. What he doesn’t expect is her to roll her eyes at him as he presses a scalpel to her jugular.

You aren’t sure when Dave got a hold of a freaking scalpel, but it doesn’t surprise you in the least. Of course he found something sharp to play with.

“Why the fuck aren’t you scared?” he demands. “You got a death wish or something??” 

He eases his forearm off of your throat, but still holds you pinned against the wall. You inwardly sigh. In another time and place, this would just be foreplay, but right now the scalpel is still just a little too close to comfort. Probably shouldn’t push it with him, not too much anyway.

“That’s what you want to ask me, Yorkie?” you croak. You decide on no sudden movements though, in case it spooks his hand to twitch in the wrong direction.

He frowns at the pet name. Right, he never told you he remembered his last name. Oopsies. 

“You’d never hurt me,” you whisper. “At least, the Dave I remember wouldn’t. Not — not unless I liked it.”

Your eyes search his brown one, for anything, any recognition, but still none comes. Why are you tearing up? It’s not like he’s crushing your windpipe anymore. 

“How do I know you’re not the one trying to kill me?” he growls. Well, at least he sounds like the Dave you love. Love? Wait, what??

“Don’t you think if I wanted to kill you, I woulda done it the first night?” You roll your eyes again. You’re getting impatient now, if anything just to have the pointy blade removed from the vicinity of your neck. Maybe you could have done without the eye roll though.

His brows are still furrowed and you are so tempted to raise your hand and smooth the double crease away with your thumbs. You miss the way he’d melt under your touch, even if he’d never admit to liking it. He stares you down for a handful of breaths before you see the moment he makes a decision that reflects across his face. 

The moment he shifts the blade an inch away, you pounce, leveraging the blade away from him and reversing your positions. Shoving him up against the wall, you flinch when you hear his head smack the wall a little harder than you prefer, even if you know you’re not strong enough to hold him there very long. You press the dull side of the blade against his inner thigh, right at his femoral artery.

“This bring back any memories, Yorkie?”

He blinks hard a few times, as if he is surprised to find himself pinned against the wall by you. He glances down at where you have the scalpel pressed against his inner thigh before looking back up again and you brace yourself because you think he’s about to fight you off. Then you realize he’s looking at the plant you left on his window sill and then back at you, really looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

His eye widens as he softly inhaless, “Sunshine?”

The citrus bodywash, the plants, all the fucking plants, the too colorful scrubs. His Sunshine. Unlike all his other memories that came back gradually in waves, with you it was like a switch was flipped and he went from not knowing you to now remembering everything. He feels a surge of emotion — relief, excitement, desire — but the most prominent is trust. He has someone he can truly trust, who knows him, again. 

All it took was a scalpel to his femoral artery. Figures. How he met you is a core memory after all. 

He feels you lessen your hold on him, tucking the scalpel away, eyes wide as you pull away from him in disbelief. But he doesn’t want you to be further away from him, he wants to keep you close. And so he tugs you flush against him.

“Say my name again,” you ask, eyes still wide.

He brushes a thumb across your soft cheek and takes in your bright, discerning eyes. “My Sunshine.”

“You really remember,” you whisper, pressing your face into his chest for a deep inhale, before looking back up at him. “I missed you so much, Yorkie.”

He just looks at you, takes you in, tracing the outline of your lips before pressing his mouth to yours.

You and Dave don’t get much of a reunion, a single kiss, before you hear footsteps approaching. By the sound of the gait heavily favoring the right side, it’s your supervisor Nurse Brian. You immediately move, pretending to prop Dave up over one of your shoulders like you’re helping him to walk before Brian turns the corner.

“Everything okay here, Sunny?” Brian calls out as he approaches.

“Yep, all good. Just helping Killer here back from the bathroom. Looks like he… tweaked his knee pretty bad in PT,” you respond, trying to hide how breathless you are from one kiss. Dave gives you the most dubious expression before you elbow him in the side and give him a look that says just go with it okay?

Dave has never been a fan of improvisation like you, preferring his contingency plans having contingency plans, all neatly laid out in his cute little spreadsheets. Which… you can appreciate. You love a good spreadsheet, but sometimes flying by the seat of your pants is just so much more… fun and exciting. Maybe this is why the two of you make such a good team, a bit of intense control and structure and, well, a lot of whatever it is you feel like doing in the moment.

You can tell the moment Dave decides to play along when he drops a chunk of his weight on you and you nearly stumble trying to keep the both of you upright. You keep up a rambling monologue at Brian as you settle Dave back into his bed while Brian shuffles awkwardly around the room, obviously trying to herd you out of the room. Your spidey senses tingle — something is about to happen. Before you leave the room, you surreptitiously slip the scalpel back to Dave and give him the most reassuring look you can manage. 

Just outside Dave’s room Brian finally spills the news that the feds got approval to transfer him later tonight. Perfect, you think. Just enough time for a bit more improvisation to break Dave out of this place. And get you out of here too. If you have to give another sponge bath or assist with another bowel evacuation you might start killing people.

“Turns out Killer is actually a killer,” Brian whispers, shaking his head. “I’ll be damned. Just make sure you don’t go into his room by yourself anymore.”

Boy, do you have news for your supervisor. 

During your next break, you comb the facility looking for something to create a distraction. A big one. As you pass by the PT room, the small row of treadmills call to you and a burst of inspiration hits you. Yorkie will be so pleased. He hates running.

The fire is a lot bigger than you expected. Apparently all the foam roller things in the PT room are also highly, highly flammable. Piled together by the treadmills you rigged to spark, you didn’t expect it to make quite the towering inferno it did. But you know what? Mission accomplished. 

In the chaos of the fire alarm and subsequent evacuation, you sneak Dave off in a wheelchair (and the plant you brought him, gotta save the little guy too!) and into a car you had borrowed before you started your very brief career in healthcare. Parked in an alleyway cleared of cameras, you almost giggle at the getaway going so well. The only person you had to kill was the fed left to watch Dave’s floor. Yorkie, on the other hand, is still tense with apprehension apparently.

“We’re not clear yet,” he growls as you flip on the radio and peel out of the alleyway.  

“Don’t make me tranq you,” you threaten with a smile. “Raining on my brilliant plan.”

He grumbles something unintelligible while pinching the bridge of his nose, but keeps quiet as he looks out the window as Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car comes on over the radio. As the miles roll by, it occurs to you that it’s the first time he’s been outside of a hospital or facility in almost a year and the uncertainty of the future, now on the run, sobers you up a bit for the rest of the drive. 

It takes a subway, a bus, and a boat, and another borrowed car, before you make it back to your place. You didn’t want to give the feds a chance at tracking either of you, so you took the extra long, long way home. You’re both quiet most of the journey, only communicating when necessary when switching modes of transportation. 

The only time he asks you anything is when it starts to rain, water streaming along the wide windows of the bus. He whole body jerks when he remembers something he wanted to ask you, “Mac. Was he the one who… Is he — is he alive? Or dead?” You can hear the absolute terror in his whispered confusion.

You slide a hand over his to calm him, “He was alive. He didn’t die all those years ago.” You can feel his entire body tense even more. “He’s gone now though, Yorkie. Can’t come after you anymore.”

He stares at you, stiff as a corpse.

“I took care of him for you, baby.” You pat his hand, willing him to take a breath and relax. 

He continues to look at you, wanting an explanation, but you’re not about to confess to murder and torture on a bus, even if it is mostly empty. 

“Later, Yorkie,” you murmur as you snuggle up next to him, hoping he will finally relax. There’s still a way to go before you both get home.

He crashes immediately after getting to your place. You can tell he’s overexerted himself and is likely in more pain than he’s letting on. Still too wired from being on high alert and making sure Dave was okay on the long trek home, you curl up in an armchair by the bed and just watch him sleep. Perhaps you’re afraid if you take your eyes off of him for a moment, he’ll vanish again. 

There’s a warm shaft of light emanating from the bathroom, casting soft shadows around the room, highlighting the outline of his form, those broad fucking shoulders and soft brown hair. He’s so still you’d rush to check for a pulse save for the slow steady rise and fall of his chest.  

Even with all the progress he’d made in physical therapy, he still has a ways to go. You push aside the concern and anxieties of tomorrow to appreciate that he’s warm and safe in your bed right now. Your eyes trace his face, those plush lips you’ve only gotten to kiss once since he remembered you. Following the arch of that nose you love to the two deep furrows between his brows. How does someone look so grumpy even in their sleep? It delights you.

When you can’t take the distance, however short, from Dave, you slide into bed as slowly as you can. He’s usually such a light sleeper, but he doesn’t move an inch. You gently smooth a thumb between his brows until you feel him melt. You close your eyes and allow his steady breathing to lull you to sleep.

“You’re going to cook? Breakfast?” you almost fall out of bed as you try and untangle yourself from the sheets, still half asleep. Who is this man and what has he done with Dave York?

He grumbles something before raising his voice, “I miss real eggs. That place only ever made the powdered shit.”

You shrug and gesture at him to knock himself out, while you busy yourself with making coffee. Coffee always first. Then food. This is the correct order of things. As you hear the fridge door swing open, you feel Dave freeze, standing stock still while letting all the cold air out. Ugh, Dave.

“Sunshine…” he seems to be at a loss for words. “Why the fuck do you have an eyeball in your fridge?”

“Oh, I forgot!” you exclaim. “It’s your welcome home present, Yorkie.” 

His head pokes out from behind the door and he frowns, “You know it can’t replace the eye I lost right?” 

“Oh, I know. It’s what’s left of Mac,” you explain as you slide by him to grab the oatmilk for your coffee. The eyeball stares down at you, suspended in formalin, from its clear jar on the top fridge shelf. “Eye for an eye right?” 

He just looks at you and then at the jarred eyeball in the fridge, and then back at you, speechless.

“Well, except he’s dead and you’re not.” You smile and shrug as you finish stirring the milk into your coffee and take the first blessed sip, extra pleased with yourself. “You’re welcome, Yorkie.”

“Fuck baby, sometimes you scare me you know that?” 

You just smile at him, looking so at home in your colorful kitchen with his tousled hair and grumpy expression before you go to sit on one of the kitchen island stools. “I think that’s exactly why you love me.”

He rounds the island counter and cages you in with his arms. You take in his handsome face, so handsome it’s sometimes hard to breathe, as he just takes you in. He finally rumbles, “Yeah, I guess that’s why I do.” 

“Yeah?” you look at the floor at the admission, swiveling back and forth on the stool, not quite ready to look at him again.

He tilts your chin up with one hand, “You really take care of Mac for me? All by yourself?”

You consider reminding him that you offered to help in the first place, but somehow an I told you so felt like it would ruin the moment. You just bite your lower lip instead.

“Mmh hmm.”

“Why, baby? I — I almost died,” he presses. “He coulda killed you! You didn’t know then if I was even going to make it or not.”

You frown at this. Did he not understand?

“And I’m still so — so broken. Never going to fully recover and be who I was. Not worth anything to anyone anymore.”

He definitely does not understand. And you haven’t had enough coffee for this conversation. You quell the urge to roll your eyes as you grasp the front of his shirt and pull his face down level with yours.

“Yorkie, that’s exactly why I killed him.” Your words are firm even if you feel yourself shaking at what you’re about to admit. “He doesn’t get to try to kill the person I love and get away with it.”

His eyebrows shoot up at your disclosure, that pesky L-word. Should it really be a surprise at this point though? After everything? Even if it terrifies you to admit out loud. You did all of this because you love him. Your Dave.

“After I — I saw you in the hospital, everything Mac did, there wasn’t another option,” you murmur. “You mean everything to me, Yorkie.”

Dave forgets about the stupid eggs as he drags you back to bed and reminds you exactly why you love his nose so much. Fuck, you missed this. 

You suppose from one assassin to another, there’s no declaration of love like getting all murder-y and revenge-y for them. It might as well have been a proposal of marriage. Even with so much uncertainty about your futures and how much rehab Dave still has to go, you figure as long as he doesn’t start trying to back seat assassinate, you’ll both be fine. You’ll take care of your Yorkie until he can be Murdah Daddy again.

[jeewrites]

Monday Murder Daddy Appreciation post

PEDRO PASCAL Orange Coast Magazine (2014)

[bloobydabloob]

hello my i request more of ur davebot ? thx beforehand .

Yes you can. Mah mah mah mah mah mah mah

[w2nv]

Everyone tells you abt how weird Cecil is and yadda yadda but no one prepares you for Carlos I feel. Hes a marine biologist who moved to a desert. It took him a near death experience to ask his crush out. He took theatre in college. He came on radio. He spends hour choreographing TikTok dances. After being trapped 10 yrs in a desert otherworld they write an entire book abt him learning to let go after causing horrific consequences due to his studies on it to then make him IN PODCAST open a portal to that same otherworld and the only thing he can think while horrifying consequences are happening AGAIN is trying to perfectly describe the sound it makes. He stashes illegal writing utensils. He did throat surgery on himself. His idea of science is mixing bubbling coloured liquids and saying hmmm a lot. Everyone wants him. He’s a great dad. His middle name is Dave

[teethrottt-art]

[jeewrites]

well, now this is all i think about now too 🥲

you know what i think about all the time?

that's all ok bye

[euaphora]

hi sorry to ask but do you mind writing about more about Dave Lizewski (I think that’s how u spell it?)

✎ᝰ subby!needy!dave x reader

Before you two even dated, he would follow you at night from a distance and watch you through your window. If someone else saw it in any way they wanted, they’d think he was stalking you. Which wasn’t the case.

He would hurry up with any work needing done with the new weapons that were going to be used for the next mission and ran out the door just in time to see you get ready for bed. He had done this for months before you asked him to come over to do the project your teacher assigned you to do, leading on from there.

He hated that class but always seemed to be passing since he really had no one to talk with to get distracted with the work. Once he started talking to you more in that class, he would slip with his grades and even got into a small argument with his dad over him failing.

The morning after the argument with his dad, he felt so upset with everything, giving attitude towards everyone including his teachers which almost made him getting sent to detention—even though he was completely unfazed with the security guard taking him to the office after Dave insisted that he wasn’t going to do the work. Which that even got him more upset because his dad had to come in and have a conference meeting with the assistant principal. Around lunch time he sat across from you which made you ask him, “everything okay?”. He just shrugged his shoulders, which slight pissed you off. You went about your couple minutes left for lunch by eating you homemade pasta you have packed for the two of you—which he didn’t eat since he had been daydreaming on how he would get back at his teachers and father— you up from your small bento lunch kit bowl and see him staring down at a random stain on the table. You were so confused but mad that he didn’t even give an explanation.

He walks you to your next period after lunch was over but stayed quiet the entire time and just made small hums when you would ramble about your day.

He could never be mad at you but he would get quiet and just mumble little things to make sure you know he was listening. You fixated your for eyes up towards his hooded ones, “did you get enough sleep, baby?” you ask him while running your thumb across a small part of his forearm while the rest of your hand is wrapped around his left arm.

Walking towards his last period of the day, he gets pulled into an empty classroom and gets pinned to the wall, whatthefuck?

He sees you with your arms crossed and with a pouty look, making him smile a little. “What’s up with you?” He asks, trying to keep his act. Which only made you even more mad but you decided to take that to your advantage since apparently we are acting what we aren’t.

“I missed you . . so much in class, baby.” You say, voice getting softer with ever word as you slowly get on your knees. “Yeah?” He asked, looking down at you, getting the hint on what your going to do next. “Yeah, can I show you how much I love you?”

He just nods— pissing you off already with the ways he keeps trying to push his act even further— watching you pull his pants along with his briefs as you pull it out. He slightly groans as he watches you tease the tip then slipping his cock into your mouth. “Mmm— keep going, baby.”

Head game was so strong he felt his hips stutter while trying to shove more of him deep inside.

As soon as he says that, you pull him out your mouth— making him furrow his brows in confusion— looking down at your naked figure which just made him hard all over again as you watched his tip get a dark red shade and his cock bolt up again.

“W-why did you do that I thought-”

“What? You thought what, huh, that you were gonna be able to cum in my mouth with how filthy yours was when I asked if you were okay? No sweet boy, you don’t deserve anything. Especially after being so rude to me, you should feel bad for the way you acted towards me.”

You get off your knees and fix you makeup— all smudged from the amount of sucking you were doing which made everything come off— he watches you look at yourself in your small mirror while he’s leaned back against the teachers desk with his cock still out, giving it small strokes while he watches you.

“I never meant any of that, I was just…eing a dick and I’m sorry but please do something,” he says with those little whines he always makes at the end when you tease him, clearly referring to his little problem.

“Fine but we do this my way. Starting off with you on your knees this time.”

He must have heard you talking in some sort of secret morse code manner with the way his body was completely frozen, he watches you stand still— not moving an inch to prove to him you weren’t messing around— and slowly goes down to his knees while still making eye contact with you.

He automatically feels a hard sting across his right cheek and immediately holds it, looking up at you and furrows his brows. You just look down towards him and told your head. “This doesn’t even come close with the way you acted today.”

“Why did you have to slap-” then another one across his left cheek now,”you don’t seem to get what’s going on here david.”

He slightly widens his eyes at the name, “I messed up and I know that but don’t call me by my first name you know I hate when you do that.”

You kneel down to meet his eyes and wrap your hands around his tip as the pre-cum is being used as lube, “I’ll call you whatever I want and your just going to have to deal with it just like the way you acted the way you wanted to.”

He lets out a simple hum, approving of your previous mentions. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t mad mad at you from the start, he shouldn’t even be acting like that around you.

He quickly whines and start moving his upwards to create more friction. With your other clean hand you play with his curls in between your fingers and give him a warm smile before pulling harshly at his tip and harshly on his curls.

He doesn’t say anything this time but gives you a small smile before feeling your soft lips crash with his, following your lips once you pull away, “does that feel good, baby?”

“A-amazing but I’m almost close…” he whimpers out, breathe sounding heavy and pants coming out of him. Before you could tell him how good of a job he was doing you feel hot ropes of white liquid splatter all over your hands and thighs.

He slowly gets up and pulls out his hand, helping you by getting tissues off the teachers desk. “Im sorry for the way I acted, I had no right to put my anger out on you..even if I was just ignoring you, it still wasn’t right of me.”

You just give him a small nod and walk out.

[beausprouts]

So what if Fazbear Frights opened in the 90s... WELCOME BACK DAVE MILLER-

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

prince and prince friendship. this is my vision

[aurorawritestoescape]

FLAT LINE || dark!Dave York x f!reader || 800

18+ mdni DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, non con, smut

creator chose not to use all the warnings

*****

His obsidian eyes are boring into yours, as you’re thrashing and wriggling, completely naked, while his hand on your throat is holding you pressed to the bed. Your legs are getting tangled tighter and tighter in the cold sheets, soaked with your and your boyfriend’s sweat and cum.

You two were having one of those nights, drinking, smoking and fucking on a loop until this monster slithered into your house and took a shot. Only one for now but you’re sure there’ll be one more.

You’re trying to push him off with your trembling hands, eyes darting between his bloodcurdling stare and the splatter of blood on your wrist. Soon you focus only on them as your mind tries to save you from seeing the whole picture-you’re dying tonight.

The killer lets go your throat, you cough and then try to scream but like in a nightmare nothing comes out of your burning throat.

When he’s done condescending you with this joke of a fight he grabs your hands and cuffs you to the bed. You haven’t done this with your boyfriend tonight but the images of him tying you up a few times before emerge from your memory and you gush more.

As if sensing this pathetic reaction of your body, the man spreads your legs and leers at your puffy cunt.

“You’ve had a fun night, sweetheart?”

His tone is calm, static like a flat line and your heart seems to stop beating, as if already giving up.

His fingers easily slip inside your stretched hole and you jerk and try to kick him off. The killer grabs your ankles and holds them pressed to his shoulder, one big hand is enough to keep your legs together.

He renders you completely helpless, hands chained to the bed, legs bound by his strong grip.

His fingers return to your hole and he pushes them deep into you, with the same cold dead eyes.

“How many times did he come inside you tonight?”

You mewl at the question, staring up at him, vision blurry with tears.

He quickly pushes your legs off his shoulder and holds them up. You squeal even before he slaps your cunt with the back of his hand. Hard. It burns like hell but your whole body buzzes as the stroke sends a wave of arousal from your overstimulated clit to every cell in your body.

“How…many?” He slowly repeats the question and you hurry to reply, scared of another hit.

“Three”

“Good,” he says and gently rubs your swollen pussy.

You half moan, half cry out as your walls contract at his touch.

He breathes in sharply when a trickle of creamy liquid flows out of your hole.

“She’s all used up and filled to the brim. Lovely.”You hear him say quietly and to your horror he opens his pants with a free hand and pulls out his cock. It’s hard and huge and you whine a pathetic ‘please’ which he leaves completely unnoticed.

He sits on his knees and then gets on top of you, your ankles still in his hand, caging your legs between his body and yours.

The killer plunges in fast and hard, quickly parting your walls with his thick long cock. He’s bigger than your boyfriend and you feel a sting of the stretch.

The man moans over you, pleasure twisting his face, very close to yours now. Hearing him you can’t stop your pussy from squeezing his length.

“So much cum, sweetheart. Feel it pouring out?My balls are soaked,” He whispers against your cheek, his soft lips tickling you.

“Please,” you mewl once again and once again it stays unnoticed.

He lets go of your legs and you don’t have time to react before he manhandles you into a mating-press, bracing his elbows on the bed by your shoulders and starts pounding into you. Your abused cunt burns at first but all the cum inside quickly turns the pain into pleasant stimulation and you chew on your swollen lips.

He growls and roars over your heated face and you squeeze your eyes shut with embarrassment hearing your pussy squelch loudly as his cock churns your boyfriend’s cum inside your cunt.

“Can she take one more?” You hear him growl and open your eyes in fear. If he comes soon it means you have only seconds.

“Please, please, let me go… don’t k…” his palm slaps over your mouth and he bites your cheek, making you squeal into his hand.

“Shut up. Daddy’s coming.”

A few more thrusts and you see him close his eyes as he stills while his warmth is spilling inside you. Then he rolls his hips, spurting his seed again and again until you’re so full of cum you feel it press on your walls already stretched out by his cock.

When he seems to be done, his lips brush against your stinging cheek and you feel cold metal pressed to your temple.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” is the last thing you hear.

*****

Thank you for reading!

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[absurdthirst]

Property of Dave York {Dave York x F!Nanny!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: Voyeurism, video surveillance, masturbation, kidnapping, threats of violence, coercion, dub-con, derogatory language, gun play, spanking, oral sex (male receiving ) rough sex, choking, guilt, forced cuckolding, cream pie, anxiety, break up texts, murder, fingering, pussy slapping, sex toys, anal fingering, anal, double penetration, aftercare, forced imprisonment

Comments: Carol's offer of the York family cabin for a romantic weekend away for you and your boyfriend turns dark and deadly when Dave shows up. Unhappy with how you are being fucked and deciding to take you for himself.

🚨🚨DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT - this story contains dark theme of coercion, dub-con due to deadly threats, murder, imprisonment - do not read if this bothers you🚨🚨

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Are you sure?” You ask Carol, eyes wide as she offers to let you use the family cabin for the weekend. 

“Absolutely. I'm heading out of town to see my mom with the girls. Dave will be here and we want to reward you for all of your hard work. You’re so good with the girls and do so much above and beyond. We want to reward you.” Carol offers you a sweet smile. 

You shake your head, “I don’t know what to say.” You admit and Dave smiles, “just say yes.” 

You nod, overwhelmed by how good the Yorks treat you, “th-thank you.” You reply and they both smile. It’s a reward beyond your dreams to get to spend the weekend in the woods with your boyfriend at the York family cabin. Little do you know that Dave hates the idea. 

You were hired about a year ago to be the live-in nanny to the York family. At first, they seemed like any other suburban dream but you began to notice small details that tipped off the fact that maybe Dave isn’t the man he says he is. The blood stained clothes on the floor in the mud room late one night and he told you he cut himself yet that was too much blood for an injury you couldn’t see. Then the random calls which meant Dave would disappear for days on end after. 

The weirdest thing is the man’s internet history. When trying to search the computer for Molly’s schedule, you accidentally came across a page that detailed the internet history of the house and you, being curious, clicked on some of the links. Porn. But not your average vanilla stuff. This was bondage, it was BDSM. It was rough. Fuck, that must be Dave. The time stamp was the middle of the night and you know Carol can’t survive without her sleep. 

You hate to admit it but you touched yourself to thoughts of Dave treating you like that. He’s so sexy, authoritative, and secretive. Maybe that makes him sexier. Well, certainly when compared to Johnny, your sweet boyfriend who won’t even so much as spank you. Still, you can’t get involved in any way. This is your boss and you’d be risking your job and home and a mortifying rejection since you know Dave doesn’t want you like that. No, you’ll enjoy the cabin this weekend with Johnny and maybe you can get off thinking of dirtier things while your boyfriend sweetly goes down on you.

The smile on Dave’s face is a very practiced one. One that doesn’t show the anger, that only flashes for a brief second in his eyes before he blinks it away. Carol hadn’t talked about this with him and he wants to snatch the keys away from you as his wife holds them for you to take. Instead, he smiles. “Just say yes.” He watches as you sputter and take the keys to the cabin he had bought and was normally a weekend getaway from him and the girls. Often when he needed to recuperate from a rough mission or a job had gotten too close. Why the fuck had Carol decided to give his fucking cabin to the nanny for the weekened ot use as a fucking sex room? That dipshit you were dating wouldn’t know what the fuck he was doing. Could he even build a fire? He scoffs to himself and grinds his teeth, furious as he thinks about that fucker touching you. It’s bad enough when you have weekends off and you come home smelling like sex and cheap ass beer like you were at some frat party. Probably had been. “You know how to get there, right?” He asks you, knowing he hasn’t told you where the cabin is although Carol might have. 

You nod, “Carol gave me the coordinates. Johnny is pretty good at navigating so we shouldn’t have a problem. It’s okay if I take him, right?” You ask, biting your lip. Fuck, Dave wants to say no but he knows that won’t help him. Carol can’t get suspicious of his desires otherwise you’ll be gone and he can’t allow that. “Of course you can take Johnny.” Carol promises and you grin. 

“Thank you so much.” 

Carol nods, “don’t think anything of it. It’s all set, right Dave?” 

He swallows down his annoyance, “it’s all set.” He offers you a sickly smile that has your stomach knotting and Carol pats his hand, “excellent.” She winks and you grip the keys, eager to tell your boyfriend about the weekend away.

****

“You girls be good for your mother, and grandma and grandpa, okay?” Dave winks at Alice and reaches out to tug on one of Molly’s pigtails. 

“Daddy!!!” Molly shrieks, batting his hand away as she giggles and he chuckles. 

“I mean it.” He raises his eyebrows at them before moving up to the driver’s side window where Carol is already behind the wheel. “Drive carefully, honey.” He urges, knowing that while he might not love her like he probably should, she is important to him. Plus he wants his girl’s to be safe. While he feels like there is something missing inside him, not able to really connect with his wife, he loves his children. “Call me when you get to your moms.” He leans in and presses his lips to hers quickly before he pulls away. His plans for the weekend have changed and he needs his wife to leave on time, so he had helped her pack up the Mercedes. 

**** 

“Wow. This place is sweet.” Johnny grins as you enter the cabin. He’s carrying your travel bag and you admire the decor of the cabin. It’s simple but rustic and you love it. You love being out in the woods, the sound of nature, and of course, being there with your boyfriend. He’s sweet and kind and everything you should want and this weekend you’re going to try and remind yourself of that. Johnny sets your bags down, reaching for you to pull you close, his hands squeezing your ass. “And the best thing is not having to sneak around. We have the whole weekend to do whatever we want.” Johnny kisses along your neck and you smirk, knowing he’s eager to touch you. Has been since you left the York house.

The rustic charm of the house hides the sophisticated camera system. Hidden discreetly in areas that won’t be noticed by anyone who isn’t a trained operative. Carol had never noticed. Now, Dave watches you, glaring at the screen of his laptop as your boyfriend gropes your ass and slides his hand up to cup your tit as he tries to steer you back towards the sofa. “Asshole.” He hisses, jealous that you let this fucker touch you. His cock twitches, making him reach down to palm himself through his pants as he imagines himself with you on that couch. Showing you what getting fucked should be like. 

You let Johnny lay you down on the sofa and he’s quick to remove your shirt, tossing it down and you reach behind you to unclasp your bra, exposing your tits unknowingly to Dave’s gaze until Johnny takes your nipple into his mouth, making you moan. “Fuck. That’s good.” You sigh, running your fingers through his hair as he sucks but it’s not hard enough, not rough enough.

“Fuck.” Dave hisses, reaching up to slide the end from the belt buckle. His cock throbbing in his pants and he’s already decided that he’s going to jerk off, watching you get fucked by this pathetic excuse for a boy. There’s nothing really wrong with Johnny, Dave hates him solely because he wants you. Wants to use you and show you what you really want when you look at him with those searching eyes. Pulling his hard cock out, Dave spits in his hand and starts to smear it over the sensitive head. 

When Johnny slides inside of you, he’s asking if you’re comfortable and you want to roll your eyes. “Fuck.” He hisses in pleasure at how wet and tight you are and you want him to squeeze your throat. You want him to fuck you like it’s your last day on earth. You want him to ruin you but he won’t. You wrap your legs around him, trying to push him deeper. “Fuck baby. You’re so wet.” Johnny groans and you want to be spiteful and tell him you were thinking about Dave being in this cabin, imagining him fucking you, wrecking you.

Dave strokes his cock, hard and fast as he imagines how tight you would be. The squeals he would pull from you would be much better than those damn fake moans you are putting on for him. “You would cry for me.” He grunts, watching you wrap your legs around him. He wonders if Johnny actually buys your moans, if he believes that you are actually enjoying yourself. His cock is slick in his hand, gripping it harshly as he jerks off. 

“Oh my God, I’m cumming!” You cry, throwing your head back as you grip him inside of you, faking yet another orgasm. You moan, glancing up at the ceiling, letting out another fake moan as you wait for Johnny to cum inside of you. He’s grunting, his face buried in your neck, and you whimper, “cum for me baby.” You try to egg him on, squeezing his cock in your walls and you moan his name. 

“Gonna cum. Gonna cum.” He groans, thrusting into you a half dozen more times before he cums.

Dave grunts, holding his breath as he starts to cum. Ropes of his sticky seed coating the towel he had covering the steering wheel of his car as he cums. Stroking himself through the high and watching you as you lay under Johnny limply, helping him ride out his orgasm while very obviously not experiencing your own. He wouldn’t let that happen. Milking the last drops of his release before he sits back in the seat and pants, making up his mind on what he will do next. 

You are cooking when you hear the noise. Confused by the clicking sound and you turn the stove off and on again, wondering if that’s the noise. “Johnny?” You call out, wondering where he is. He isn’t usually this quiet. He’s usually annoying you by now, wanting to incessantly talk about his video games or the latest thing he read on Reddit. You turn off the stove, the pasta sauce is cooked anyway, and you will probably find Johnny lounging on the sofa. “Johnny, baby. I-” You scream, finding Johnny tied to a chair and a gag in his mouth.

A hand comes around your mouth, covering it and hot breath washes over your ear. “Ah ah ah, no screaming baby, not yet.” Dave hums in your ear, grinning at the furious expression on your boyfriend’s face. “Your boyfriend didn’t even lock the fucking door. Anyone could have wandered into the cabin.”

Your eyes widen at hearing Dave’s voice in your ear. Your heart pounds in both fear and arousal. His body is pressed against yours and you shiver against him. Your hands are gripping his wrist but it’s no use, he’s stronger than you. “Be calm and nothing bad happens.” He coos and lowers his hand from your mouth. 

“Please. Let - let us go. We will leave. I- I am sorry Mr. York.” You promise, aware to an extent of what he is capable of.

“What are you sorry for?” Dave asks you, “fucking on my couch? Or faking your orgasm.” He shakes his head. “It was pathetic, watching you moan like a whore when we both know you were counting down the seconds until he came and rolled off you.” He tuts and watches Johnny huff and tug against the ropes tying him to the chair in amusement. “So I decided I’m going to show him how you should be fucked.”

Your eyes widen even more and you step away from Dave. “Wha-what? I- Dave. I- don’t understand.” You shake your head and step towards Johnny. “I- I swear to you baby I had - I don’t know what he’s talking about.” You try to assure your boyfriend who is tied up and Dave chuckles, reaching for your wrists to grip them in his. 

“Don’t lie, baby. That’s not nice. You gotta tell him the truth. He doesn’t make you scream. He doesn’t make you writhe. I’ve seen it. I know it. You don’t soak his cock with your cum.” Dave declares and your cunt clenches at the deep words, the truth you’ve been too scared to say. Johnny laughs around the gag again and you wonder how the hell he’s so oblivious. 

“He’s not wrong.” You confess in a whisper.

Dave smirks and looks over at Johnny smugly. “Strip off your clothes.” Dave orders, squeezing your wrists before letting go. “First, I’m going to punish you for letting this boy touch you. You could have just asked and I would have bent you over my desk every night after Carol and the girls were asleep. Or maybe the washing machine in the basement. That way you don’t wake them up with your squealing.” He chuckles as he steps back and reaches for the hem of his shirt. “You cleaned his cum out of your cunt, didn’t you?”

You nod, knowing this is so wrong. It’s so wrong. You can’t fuck Dave in front of your boyfriend. “I- I showered.” You confess and swallow harshly at the sight of Dave shirtless, several scars litter his skin from his past and it attracts you to him even more. 

“I told you to strip.” Dave orders and you shake your head, “I can’t do it.” You choke, knowing this is wrong. Dave shakes his head, reaching into the back of his pants to pull out a gun. 

“If you don’t strip, I’m gonna spread your boyfriend’s brains over the carpet and no one will ever find him.” Your eyes widen, looking at Johnny’s frantic, scared look, and you know Dave doesn’t fuck around. You reach for your shirt, starting to strip off with shaking hands.

Dave watches as your plain bra is revealed, smirking when you reach behind you and shakily unclasp it. “Those are nice tits.” He hums. “Your boyfriend should have sucked on them more. Bitten them and pulled on them.” His cock twitches in his pants and grunts, “I will. Maybe I’ll get some clamps out for them. Make them really sore.”

You whimper at his words, avoiding the glare from your boyfriend who is shaking his head. He never sucks on your tits, always gets right to fucking you. Sometimes he will go down on you but it’s too sweet. It doesn’t make you gasp and writhe. You toss your bra down and hook your fingers in your leggings, pushing them down and kicking them aside so you are left in your panties. 

“Ah ah ah. All of it.” Dave tuts as he pulls his belt through the loops. You look at Johnny as you push your panties down, the gun is still in Dave’s hand so you kick the underwear aside to stand bare before Dave.

“You don’t deserve her.” Dave turns his comment towards Johnny. Shaking his head in disappointment. “She shouldn’t be able to walk, let alone make dinner after you fuck her.” He slaps the belt against his palm and smirks. “Shouldn’t be able to move.” He flicks open the button of his pants and motions to the couch. “Bend over. I’m going to spank you for fucking on my couch.”

You shake your head, glancing over at Johnny and Dave tuts, pointing the gun at the younger man. “Do you want me to blow his brains out?” You shake your head frantically and move over to the sofa, kneeling on it as you shiver in anticipation for what Dave is going to do to you, knowing it’s so wrong to already be turned on.

You shake your head, “please Dave.” You beg and he smacks your ass again. 

“Call me sir.” He demands and you nod, “sir.” He hums in delight and rubs your ass, making you arch your back. 

“Fuck. I need more.” You tell him, finally letting your desires escape, the ones you’ve concealed for so long.

He pauses for a second, grinning in triumph. “I knew you were perfect.” He groans, pulling his hand back so he can whip your ass with the belt, “you need me. Not some pussy.” He hisses, striking your ass every other work in quick succession.

You cry out. arching your back at the pain, but fuck if your cunt doesn't clench at the sensation. "Oh shit." You pant, trying to catch your breath while Dave caresses your ass. You inhale deeply. ignoring the pained look on Johnny's face as he helplessly watches.

“You like it, don’t you?” Dave asks as he draws back for another slap of the belt against your ass. “Don’t lie.”

“I love it.” You confess, unable to lie to him. He’s tearing you apart and you are unraveling for him, telling him your deepest darkest secrets. You cry out when he hits you again with the belt, your skin is on fire and you pant, trying to catch your breath.

Dave groans, smirking as he flicks the belt against your ass again. “Knew you would love it.” He hisses, his cock twitching in his pants. “You’re fucking dirty, my little whore.”

You collapse forward onto your elbows, ass aching. And you struggle to breathe, knowing it’s true. You’ve always been his. “Yes, I- I- fuck. I’m your dirty little whore.” You whimper, closing your eyes to ignore the hurt look on Johnny’s face, concealed by the gag.

Dave chuckles and drops his hand, reaching out and caressing the welts that are on your ass. “Get on your knees.” He orders you rightly, “I want you to suck my cock. Show you me how much you regret him touching you.”

It’s getting impossible to deny him, the guilt pushed aside by arousal as you shift onto your knees and hiss at the sting when your thighs press against your ass. You look up at Dave as he fumbles to pull his cock out, gun still in one hand, and when he manages to get his hard length out, your eyes widen. Fuck, he’s huge. Your mouth falls open in shock and he grips his length, playfully swiping the head along your lips until you take him into your mouth.

Dave groans as you take him deep, rolling his hips forward. “Fuck.” He hisses, watching as your lips stretch around his cock. He loves it, your eyes starting to water slightly as he pushes himself deeper.

You choke but he doesn’t pull back, continuing to push his cock down your throat, and he grabs the back of your head to stop you pulling off of him. “Take it all.” He demands and you gag but inhale deeply through your nose, concentrating on taking all of him.

You swallow and struggle but you manage to press your nose against the curls above his cock. Making him groan happily as he holds your head there for a long moment before he pulls back. Wanting to fuck your throat, use you for his pleasure, although he’s not filling your mouth with his seed. No. He’s saving that for your pussy. Wanting to replace your loser boyfriend’s seed with his and watch it drip from your folds.

You choke on your breath when Dave pulls his cock back, barely able to catch it as he pushes deep down your throat again. “Fuck. Oh fuck.” He hisses and you are dripping onto the floor as you watch him with watery eyes, loving the way he clenches his jaw. The gun is still in his hand. He looks deadly and that turns you on more than anything Johnny has ever done.

He can tell this excites you. The way that you lean into his thrusts into your mouth and the way that your thighs spread tell him how much you love this. In a few minutes he will be able to see your cunt drooling into the floor, your arousal leaking out of you and dripping down like the little slut that he knows you are.

You whimper around him, saliva dripping down your chin, and when he hisses your name, you slide your hands up to caress his thighs. He allows it, watching you with those dark eyes you’ve dreamed of far too often and you whine when he pulls his cock from your mouth after several moments.

“Get up and bend over the couch.” Dave growls, slapping his cock on the side of your cheek. “Want to cum inside you. after you’ve screamed my name so much that your throat is raw.”

You scramble onto the sofa, desperate to feel him inside of you, to get fucked the way you desperately want to get fucked. You look over at Johnny who has tears in his eyes and you mouth “I’m sorry.” It’s useless but you still want him to know how sorry you are. You’re an eager whore for Dave but he didn’t deserve to get caught in the mess.

Pushing his pants down, he kicks them off and kneels behind you. The barrel of the gun slides up your drenched slit and he chuckles when you stiffen. “I could fuck you with this gun. Click the safety off and shove the barrel in your cunt,” he coos, loving how you whimper. “But I’d rather feel you around me first.” He pulls the barrel back and presses it against your puckered hole. “Maybe next time.” He guides himself to your cunt with his other hand and only pulls the gun completely away when he snaps his hips forward and fills you up.

Your gasp echoes in the cabin, shocked at the abrupt way he fills you, stretching you out, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Equal parts painful and pleasurable. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. “Oh fuck.” You choke, unable to breath as he doesn’t give you a chance to adjust around him before he’s pulling out to set a harsh pace, pounding into you like it’s the last thing he will ever do.

Dave hisses at how tight you get, pressing his hand on your lower back when you arch it up. “Fuck, that’s it. God, you love this don’t you?” He chuckles and glances over at where Johnny is sobbing in the chair. “This is what you should have done. You should feel how fucking tight she gets every time I rock into her.” He smirks. “But you won’t, because you can’t fuck her like I can.” He slaps your ass and thrusts harder into you, the slapping of his hips against your ass filling the cabin.

You cry out, his words shouldn’t turn you on but they do. It’s true. Johnny has never fucked you like this. It’s animalistic and you’re fucking breathless, panting as he slams his hips against yours over and over again, gun still in hand as he runs the barrel along your back.

“That’s it, taking it like the little slut you are.” Dave growls, enjoying the way you clench down around him. “My slut. Your cunt needed a real cock inside it. A man who isn’t afraid to hurt you, wants to hurt you.” He groans when you squeal and concentrates on that angle as he plows into you.

“Fuck! Fuck!” You whine, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushes deep inside of you, making you fall forward onto your elbows as you can’t remain upright on your hands anymore. “Yes. You. Needed you.” You know it’s wrong but you’re lost in the haze of lust and you can’t see Johnny’s heartbroken look as you wantonly moan for Dave.

Dave growls, loving how you just admitted that in front of your pathetic boyfriend. “You look so good.” He pants out, “split open on my cock. Be a good girl and cum and then I’m really going to make you squeal.”

You can’t hold back, even if you tried, you cry out when he smacks your ass again and you cum, clamping down on his cock and soaking him. You bite your lip, trying to smother your moan because you know Johnny is still watching you.

Dave growls, pissed that you would try to muffle your moans, and he reaches back to grab your shoulder, pulling you back against his chest. “Don’t you fucking bite your lip.” He huffs. “Or I’ll shoot your boyfriend and the last thing he will ever see is you cumming on my cock,”

You hate that his words make you clamp down even more on his cock. He’s so commanding, it makes you soak him, and he grabs your jaw, forcing you to release your lip. “I’m sorry.” You gasp, to both Dave and Johnny. The fact that you are getting fucked by another man in front of your sweet boyfriend has your heart breaking but your body is aching for Dave.

Dave huffs. Sliding his gun hand down as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, the barrel nudging your clit and he smirks when you gasp and your body reacts. “No you aren’t. You love this. You wanted my cock for so long.” He tells you. “You don’t think I didn’t know you searched my history? Saw what I was into? What I imagined doing to you?”

You would be mortified that he knew you’d seen the videos but he’s making your fantasies come true right now and you can’t stop yourself from enjoying the way he fucks up into you, the cold barrel of the gun nudging your clit enough to make you moan again. “I- fuck - it was so filthy. The - the choking. The spanking. I- I want that so much.” You admit, knowing Johnny wasn’t capable of giving that to you.

“You’re gonna get it.” He promises, feeling your cunt start to relax and he pulls out of you to turn you on your back. Throwing your legs back up into his shoulders, Dave wastes no time slamming back into you to start pounding you into the couch like he imagined when he was watching Johnny fucking you, folding you over to make sure he can plunge deep.

“Shit. Oh shit.” You squeal, he’s so deep inside of you. You feel like he’s in your guts. “Fuck baby. Oh fuck.” You sob, sounding authentic, not faking it like you did with Johnny. “Oh my God.” You whine, cupping your tits as he fucks you like it’s his last day on earth.

“That’s it, fuck, you’re so slutty.” Dave hisses, loving the way your cunt just floods his cock with your juices, every time he thrusts into you more coats him. It’s dripping down his thighs and his balls. Reaching up, he slaps your cheek lightly, not enough to hurt you. “My whore.” He growls, grabbing your throat and squeezing like he had imagined so many times. He could never do this to Carol, she didn’t like anything but basic lovemaking, but you are different. You will give him what he needs.

You grip his forearm as he fucks into you, making you moan and writhe. He grips your neck a little tighter and it cuts off some of your air, making you choke but your cunt squeezes his cock. You love this. It’s filthy and everything you’ve ever wanted.

“You love this.” He coos mocking, grinning over at where your boyfriend has his eyes closed. “Open your fucking eyes.” He orders, pointing the gun back at Johnny and his pace falters slightly. “Watch her get fucked. Every second of my cock inside you, you watch. Knowing you can’t give her this.”

You gasp, hating that you’re so turned on by his authority, and you whimper when he hits something incredible inside of you. Johnny opens his eyes, the look in them is heartbroken and it kills you to know that it’s over between you. He’d never want you now and you don’t know if you would want him after experiencing Dave. “Shit. Shit. I’m gonna cum.” You squeal, feeling how close you are.

Gritting his teeth, your squeal just makes him rock into you harder. Wanting to see how hard you cum, Dave holds the gun up to your head and pulls the trigger.

Fuck, it’s wrong. It’s so wrong. But you cum when he pulls the trigger. The way your life flashes before your eyes as you wonder if he’s just killed you only to hear the click of the trigger and nothing else. It’s the sexiest thing that’s ever happened to you and you gush, soaking him with your cum as you sob his name.

Dave groans, feeling your cum soak him. Making him hiss, flexing his finger and dropping the gun as he lunges forward. Folding you over as he presses his lips to yours and buries his cock deep as he can get it, coating your walls in hot ropes of his seed.

You pant against his mouth, hands wrapping around his shoulders, and you pull him even closer, “Dave. Dave. Dave.” You whine into his mouth, his cock twitching inside of you and he pushes his cum out of you with each rock of his hips.

He practically grins against your lips in satisfaction. Feeling you pull him closer is his personal triumph, getting you to admit that you need what he gives you. Riding out his orgasm before he pulls back to see your body just sag into the couch as he admires his cum starting to well up in your abused pussy.

You open your eyes, looking up at Dave as he shifts off of you, leaning back to admire his cum after pulling out of your cunt. “That’s how you’re supposed to fuck her. That’s how she should look. Wrecked. Ruined.” Dave tells Johnny who is crying, blinking to stop himself from closing his eyes, fearful of Dave despite the gun being set aside.

Dave stands, starting to pull his clothes back on and picks up his gun. “You drove up here, so I’m going to take Johnny down to the bus station.” He tells you. “Safe to say he won’t be staying.”

You are too dazed to really think about it. You nod, knowing you will have to call Johnny and break up formally but you doubt he will ever talk to you again. "I'm sorry Johnny." You whisper, watching Dave untie him from the chair but not ungag your boyfriend who looks equal parts disgusted and scared. You know Dave will send him on his way and then you have no clue what will happen next. You can only hope that he fucks you again.

“Stay here.” Dave shoves Johnny towards the door but doesn’t give him a chance to stop and look at you. Opening the door and pushing him outside before locking it behind him. “Don’t worry.” Dave chuckles quietly as the other man starts to struggle against the rope around his hands. “I won’t leave her alone too long.”

You sigh, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa. The guilt is creeping up on you but the ache in your body pushes it aside. You’ve never been so satisfied and you’re eager for Dave to return, wondering what the next steps are. Part of you worries if he will kill you. You know he’s capable of it. Part of you wonders if he will simply leave you out here to make your way home.

Dave drives Johnny five miles away from the cabin, turning down an old dirt road that leads to an abandoned property. “You don’t have to worry.” Dave chuckles as he parks the car. “Everything will be fine.” He gets out and rounds the car, pulling an increasingly frantic Johnny out. “Shut up.” He hisses, pushing him up against the car and searching for his phone. He smirks when he pulls it out of his left pocket. “You are going to break up with her. Tell her that you never want to see her again.” He chuckles and puts the now loaded gun up to his temple and urges him away from the car. “Let me show you where I’m going to dump your body.” He taunts. “There’s a very nice, dry well. Perfect for you to rot in.”

Johnny cries, sobbing as Dave pushes him towards the well and he knows he has one chance to fight. He spins around, trying to knock the gun from Dave’s hand and he succeeds, deciding to run. He sprints, his hands still bound, and he can barely breathe with the gag in his mouth. “Fucker.” Dave hisses, scrambling to pick up the gun to run after the younger man. When he catches up, he aims and shoots him in the head, watching the body fall to the ground. “Had to make it messy, huh?” Dave huffs as he drags his body to the well. No one would find Johnny.

After he’s unlocked Johnny’s phone with the Face ID, he shoves the body into the well and smirks as he flips through your texts. Frowning slightly when he sees the exchange where he had been trying to convince you to leave your job with the girls, wanting you to move in with him. “Asshole.” He hisses, angrily typing out the breakup message to you, signaling the end of your relationship permanently. After he sends the message, he blocks your number and shuts the phone down, throwing it into the well, along with his body and hums to himself as he walks back to his car. Now he just needs to deal with you.

You stumble from the bathroom, having peed and cleaned up, when you hear your phone ding. Picking it up, you frown when you see the message from Johnny and open it. 

I’m sorry. I can’t do this. Knowing you’ve been his whore and let him fuck you shows what kind of person you are. You are disgusting and I never want to see you again. I hope he satisfies your slutty needs and he’s gonna break your heart. Good luck. 

The message makes you tear up, not able to refute his claims that Dave will break your heart. You know that. He’s probably on his way back now to do just that. You pull on your shirt and panties and sit on the sofa, typing a message back. 

I’m so sorry, Johnny. I do love you. He just gave me what I needed. Can we please talk? I don’t want to end things like this. You hit send and the message never says delivered. He’s blocked you. That makes you cry, mourning the safe, yet boring relationship you had with Johnny.

Pulling back up to the cabin, Dave is happy to see your car still there. Scoffing to himself because Johnny had been happy to let you whisk him away rather than him doing it to you. Knowing it’s slightly sexist, but he doesn’t give a shit. You need a man to take care of you, and Dave is going to be that man. “I’m back.” He announces, walking back into the main room and frowning when he sees you crying. “What’s wrong?”

You sniff, wiping your eyes when you see Dave. “Johnny broke up with me.” You gesture to your phone and Dave wants to roll his eyes. 

“And that’s a bad thing?” He asks and you bite your lip. 

“I- I don’t know. I feel guilty. I- I fucked you in front of my boyfriend and now he’s - oh God. Carol. And the girls. I- shit.” You start to panic, realizing how wrong this all is.

“Don’t.” Dave shakes his head, sitting down and reaching out for you. He doesn’t care about what you are feeling but he has to pretend like he does. “Fuck that loser, or- don’t fuck him. He couldn’t make you cum. And Carol isn’t going to find out about this.”

“How do you know? I - I can’t look her in the eyes when we go back home. She- she’s gonna know. I can feel it. Oh God. This was so wrong. You shouldn’t have done this. You were supposed to be at home and now I- fuck.” You cling to him, soaking his shirt with your tears.

“Hush.” Dave insists, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. Some people just can’t have a poker face and you are one of them. Not that it matters. His hand slides down into your panties and he pinches your clit. “Don’t think about it.” He growls. “Think about what I’m going to do to you right now. In my bed.”

You choke on your sob, his fingers rubbing your clit has you whimpering. The alternations between pinching and rubbing make you moan and your tears run down your cheeks but you stop sobbing. “Fuck. Dave.” You whine, turning your head to kiss his neck.

“That’s it, concentrate on how much you want it.” He groans, his flaccid cock twitching. He always has wanted to fuck someone after he’s killed and he’s going to get to, the gunpowder still fresh on his skin. “You need it. You need what I’m going to do to you.” He bites down roughly on your shoulder, sure that his teeth will leave impressions through your shirt.

"I do. I really do." You gasp, grinding down onto his fingers. He smells like smoke, something you can't put your finger on, but you love it. It smells like Dave. "More. Need more." You whine and cry out when he slaps your cunt with his palm. 

"Patience." He demands and you whimper, "please Dave."

Dave smirks, enjoying how eager you are for him. He pushes a finger deep inside your cunt and curls it up. “When I am here, you are to wear nothing.” He orders harshly, pumping his finger before adding another. “You will be ready to take my cock in whatever hole I want to fuck.”

“Yes. Yes. I’ll be ready. I’ll be ready. I’m yours. Have been yours. Just - I need more.” You beg, lost in the pleasure to really take note of his words. You reach out to squeeze his cock through his pants, wanting more of him.

Dave growls, rocking his hips up, “take your fucking shirt off before I cut it off.” He demands, wanting to bite and suck on your tits. Eager to leave his teeth marks on your skin. To make you feel him when he leaves tonight. He pushes his fingers deep and rough. “Now.”

You scramble to follow his order, pulling the shirt over your head to expose your tits to his hungry gaze. He surges down to bite down on your nipple, making you cry out in both pleasure and pain. His fingers curl deep inside of you and you’re so close. He unravels you impossibly fast until finally, you clamp down on his digits, his teeth buried in your breast.

Dave groans in delight, feeling his teeth break the skin and the coppery tang of your blood floods his taste buds. Not enough to really do damage but from the way you clench around him, you love it.

You pant as he slows his fingers, letting you enjoy your orgasm and your eyes are still closed when he tells you to look at him. “You’re mine now.” 

You nod, “I’m yours. I- I always have been.” You tell him truthfully.

“Good.” Dave pulls his fingers out of your cunt and shoves them into your mouth, nearly gagging you. “Now, your going to go into the bedroom and spread yourself on my bed, I need to get the toy you will have in your cunt while I fuck your ass.”

You shouldn’t shake with anticipation but you’ve never done anal before. None of your boyfriends were interested in the prep work and you wonder if Dave is the same. If he’s gonna just try to stick it in. You stand on shaky legs and make your way to the bed, kneeling on it and spreading your knees to display your cunt and puckered hole.

When he had come into the cabin, he had dropped a duffel bag near the door. All the supplies he needs inside, he unzips it, removing a toy, a bottle of lube and the handcuffs. The collar and chain are left in the bottom, along with the padlocks he had brought to secure the cabin. Taking them into the bedroom, he grunts in satisfaction when he sees you kneeling. “Has anyone every fucked your ass?”

You shake your head. “No. No one has.” You admit, hissing when he smacks your ass over the welts that are still sensitive from his rough treatment earlier. “You can. I want you to. Just - just be gentle.” You plead, knowing he won’t but maybe he will consider it.

He snorts, pulling your hands behind your back and slapping the cuffs on them. “Depends on how good you are for me.” He won’t be too rough, he wants you to anticipate him fucking you rather than trying to shy away. Leaning over and grinning, Dave spits on your puckered hold and reaches out to massage it into your skin.

"Shit." You hiss at the new sensation. No one has done this to you and you already fucking love it. "Fuck Dave." You pant when he pushes his finger a little deeper inside of you.  "I'll be good." You promise, arching your back and your abused cunt clenches around nothing.

“I know you will.” Dave coos, pulling his finger out and coating it with lube so he can push it back inside you. “You know what I’m capable of. What I could do to you.” He chuckles when your tight hole clenches around his digits. “You like that I’m a killer.”

You can’t deny it. It turns you on to know what he’s capable of. “Oh fuck baby. Yes. Yes I do.” You confess, “I love it. I want you to be the one to fuck my ass.” You tell him breathlessly and you gasp when he adds another finger to stretch you out.

The sounds are slick and you aren’t pulling away as he starts to pump and scissor two fingers inside your ass. Making him groan at the sight of your clenching cunt. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you are nice and filled up.” He grins, picking up the dildo he had formed from his own cock using one of those kits. “My cock will be the last one you have inside you. Even a toy.”

You hear him squirt lube onto the dildo and you gasp when you feel the silicone press against your cunt. You moan when he starts to push the toy inside of you. “Oh fuck!” You squeal, trying to relax around the girth and you realize that the toy is as thick as Dave.

He chuckles, admiring the way your lips stretch around the toy. “You look good like this, even better when my cock is in your ass.” He taunts.

You pant as he works the toy in and out of you, his fingers scissoring your ass open and you collapse forward, resting your cheek on the sheets, your fingers flexing in the handcuffs. “Please, baby. I need you inside of me.”

He chuckles again and pulls his fingers out of your ass. “You’re ready to be full, huh?” He slaps your ass, leaving the toy inside your cunt as he slathers his cock in lube. He wants it to be slick, for himself and for you taking his cock in your ass for the first time. 

“Yes.” You whimper, making him smirk as he slaps your ass and shuffles closer.

You pant as he presses the head of his cock against your puckered hole and you hold your breath as he starts to push inside of you. It hurts, but you can handle it. His hand caresses your back, “breathe.” He orders and you exhale shakily, inhaling deeply on the next breath. He’s so thick it stings but you want this. You try to relax so you can take as much of him as possible.

Unlike the first time he pushed inside your cunt, Dave takes his time. Works himself an inch at a time. Aware that this is new, plus you still have the toy filling up the other hole on the other side of the thin skin. He can feel the ridges in the silicone and he groans as he rocks into you. “Fuck- fuck you’re going to be so good for me? Taking this cock and a toy aren’t you? You’ll let me do anything I want to you.”

You nod, “yes. Whatever you want. I love - I love it.” You tell him, groaning when he starts to move inside of you. “Yes. Oh yes baby.” You pant when he starts to move faster and he’s gripping the toy, working that in and out too. It’s more than you’ve ever felt and you are already on the edge.

“Fuck, fuck you’re so-“ Dave groans, gritting his teeth and biting off his words when you spasm around him, close to cumming already. “Shiiiit.” He hisses, rocking his hips faster, slapping them against your ass as he works up to a frantic pace.

You squeal when he picks up the pace, pushing into you over and over again. “Yes. Yes! Keep - keep going. Keep going. I - fuck. You’re gonna make me - Dave. Oh Dave!” You clamp down on the toy, squeezing it inside of your walls and you squeeze Dave, shaking as you sob into the sheets at the intensity of your orgasm.

“God, you’re such a perfect little slut.” Dave groans, slowing down and rocking his hips a lot slower than before. He wants you exhausted by the time he is done with you. He needs you to sleep while he closes up the house. “That’s good baby, fuck, you’re so tight.” He praises, caressing your spine. “Want you to cum again. You’re gonna come for me again.”

You recover against the bedsheets, trying to catch your breath while Dave caresses your spine, until he starts to fuck you again. This time, he’s slower. Not as rushed as he rocks his hips, and you try to grind back onto him, arms aching from the handcuffs but you daren’t ask him to remove them.

Looking down, he watches his cock move inside you. Aware that he is recording this very moment on the camera system to keep and watch back whenever he wants. “Gonna fuck you every week.” He groans, twitching inside you. “First you’re going to suck my cock. Kneel down and take my cock down your throat while I finish up work.” He tells you, like he’s explaining how things will go. Because he is. “Then I’m going to fuck your cunt full.”

"Oh God." His words make you burn and you want that, you want him. Every fucking day. "Yes. Yes. My pussy is yours, Dave. I belong to you." You promise, tears stinging in your eyes as your wildest dreams come true. "I need you. I need this."

“You are mine.” He groans, rocking his hips faster and he reaches around you to slap your clit and rub it harshly. “Forever. You’re mine. Mine. You’re going to give me more kids.”

You wonder if he’s just babbling or if he means it. It’s hard to not give into the fantasy. You want him to knock you up, claim you in every way. But you know that if you were lucid, you would be terrified to get knocked up by a married man. “Yes. Yes. Gonna have your babies. As many as you want.”

He snarls, closing his eyes and gripping your hips harshly as he starts fucking into you harshly again. Rubbing your clit in a desperate effort for you to cum again. His control slipping at your acceptance of what he has planned for you. “Yes, fuck, yes, cum for me.”

You can't deny him, clamping down on the toy that is still inside of you, while his cock pushes deep and his fingers play with your clit. "Oh my - fuck!" You scream, almost blacking out from the pleasure. This is what you've wanted, what you've craved since you started working for the Yorks. Now you've got it, your entire body is on fire.

He feels your body give out, collapsing against the bed and flattening out so he just follows you. Still fucking into your ass like a man possessed and his hand trapped between you and the bed, rubbing your clit. He growls out your name, burying his cock deep and filling you with another load of his cum, pulsing deep inside the other hole he had claimed.

You can't open your eyes, you can't move. Knowing he's cum inside of you again, and the way he growled your name, it's more than you can bear. "Fuck. I- I love you. I love you. I love you." You sob, knowing he won't reply but you want him to know.

He doesn’t love you. He can’t. Not when he has the girls and Carol and all the shit that he does. But he does want you. You’re his. He rides out his high and starts to slowly ease out of you once he’s done.

You sigh when he pulls out of you, slowly removing the toy too and you feel so empty. His cum drips out of you, and you want him to take the handcuffs off and cuddle you but he won’t. He will probably uncuff you and then send you on your way. “Thank you.” You murmur, knowing how good this was and you know you’ll need him again soon.

Dave caresses your ass for a moment before he moves towards the bathroom. He needs to clean you up. “I’ll uncuff you in just a second.” He promises, grabbing the toy and bringing it with him.

You watch him come back in with the rag, hissing as he cleans up your abused holes, and you sigh when he unlocks the  cuffs, rubbing your wrists. “Did you enjoy it?” You ask him softly, wanting him to have loved being inside of you.

“Obsessed.” Dave answers with an honest smirk. He knows that you are going to want reassurance and intimacy so he motions for you to get under the covers and pulls them back to get into the bed with you. “I’ll be thinking about it when I’m not inside you.”

Your eyes widen as he slides into bed beside you and you are surprised when he wraps his arms around you. You smile, shifting back to snuggle into him, breathing him in. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring but you have him tonight. He strokes along your stomach and you are lulled into sleep, exhausted from the sex and the events of the day.

He waits until you are softly snoring, slipping out of the bed and picking up your phone to type out another text message, one that would be sent to his phone. Smirking to himself as he hits send, removes your SIM card and erases it. He’s had your password for a long time and now he’s used it. Redressing and stepping out with the bag and padlocks to start shuttering the cabin windows. With you inside.

****

You blink as you wake up, confused by your surroundings until you remember that Dave had fallen asleep beside you. You sigh and turn over in bed, frowning when you feel the cold sheets beside you. He’s gone. You knew he would leave but a small part of you hoped he would stay. You get out of the bed, shrugging on your robe that you’d brought with you, and you frown when you see the cabin is in darkness. You walk over to the window to open the curtains and you gasp when you find it shut up. Starting to panic, you go through each window, finding each one boarded up, and you rush over to the front door. Screaming when you find it locked, you tug on the handle with no use. You’re locked in. “Dave! Dave! Dave!” You shout, praying he’s still here and this is some kind of joke. You rush around the cabin but he’s nowhere to be found. “Oh my God.” You panic, chest heaving as you come to realize he’s locked you in.

Watching the screen, Dave sees you panicking. He picks up his cell phone to dial the cabin. He’s set it up so that only he can dial in, there are no outgoing calls to be made. He watches you jump when the phone peels and you rush over to it. “Dave! What- what is going on? What - why are you doing this?” You cry, making him exhale slowly, keeping his patience for now. 

“You said you’re mine.” He reminds you quietly. “You didn’t want Carol to find out. So this is perfect. You will stay here, I’ll be up to see you every couple of days and bring you supplies.” He rasps into the phone. “I can see you on the cameras and I’ll call you once a day. Tell me if you need me to bring you anything. And when I come, you can have me just like you said you wanted.”

Your hands shake as you look around the cabin, trying to spot the cameras and you think you see one in the corner. “Please don’t do this. I- I wouldn’t tell Carol. It would be our little secret. I don’t - please Dave. I can be a good girl. I won’t tell anyone. Just - just come and let me out. Please. I - fucking let me out of here!” You shout down the phone, losing your cool as you start to have a panic attack at the fact that he’s locked you in the cabin.

“Ah ah ah.” Dave tuts disappointedly. “A good girl wouldn’t yell about her situation.” He tells you. “I’ll be back in three days, baby. Don’t worry. I’ll bring those cookies you love. And you don’t have to worry about Johnny.” He decides to tell you the truth. “I killed him. And you texted me, telling me that you were quitting to move in with him. So Carol won’t wonder where you’ve gone.”

You sob, hearing the truth that Dave killed Johnny. He didn’t deserve to die. He was a good man. You nearly drop the phone, covering your mouth to smother your sob but know Dave can see it on the camera. “Don’t be sad. Now we can be together. When I want. I’m gonna have you forever. You’re mine now.” Dave declares and hangs up the phone. 

You frantically try to call back on the phone but the line is dead. You press the numbers over and over with no response so you finally slump down onto the floor. Dave killed Johnny and now you are his prisoner. Your selfishness has ruined everything, Dave has destroyed everything. You cry for Johnny, for your future, and you know you won’t make it out of here alive. Dave won’t let you go now. You’ll be his. Forever.

[abbloke]

Doodle dump!! Click on them for better quality!

Drew sum Homestuck and N!

[magpiepills]

Gemini

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Dave York x f! Reader x OC Em

Word count: 4.3k

Summary: you and your friend decide to have a little fun and get more than you bargained for.

Warnings: SMUT, FFM, oral f and m receiving, sex toys, fingering, degradation, facial, cum play, I can’t remember what else. You know what you’re here for. No use of y/n, not proofread, not beta’d, all mistakes are mine, just ignore them.

A word from the author: I have had this nearly complete in my WIPs for MONTHS. I can’t believe it is finally done. Dedicated to my girls (especially @youandmeand5bucks ) who know who they are. Love you so much, my sluts.

You made the agreement years ago. You don’t even remember how it started and it had always felt like a silly promise, an inside joke. You and your best friend would never fight over a man. If you ever liked the same guy, you’d just share him and live happily ever after as a throuple. You gleefully announced plans and goals for your hypothetical family of three often.

“We are going to have so many dogs!”

“Can we just make our bedroom one huge bed?”

“You cook, I’ll clean!”

It was comforting to have a plan, even if you never did find your third.

It was especially comforting when everyone either of you dated was a disappointment. Anger issues, hidden drug addictions, liars, and bad lays. The girls you’d dated were just as much of a let down as the guys. It was discouraging. Em didn’t fare much better. She’s had her own heartbreaks. Tonight finds you sitting at the Silver Dollar, a cozy bar where you can tuck into a booth and commiserate, clinking every glass together, sloshing your rum and cranberry, growing bolder and surlier. You’re making more plans. Em is leaning her forehead into her palm, looking dejected. You don’t want to see her like this.

“Em. Em! Em, let’s fuck somebody. Let’s have fun.”

She can hear the tone you get when you’re about to make a bad decision, but she just smiles without looking up.

“I’m serious! Why should we suffer?”

Your best friend looks up, to your delight, the gleam in her eyes matches yours.

“Alright. Yeah. Let’s fuck somebody.”

You may have squealed. You’ve had a threesome before. You’d agreed to sleep with your ex and his ex, against your better judgment, but you only live once, right? And you and Em had fooled around a bit. Something of a party trick. Maybe it was a tired cliche, but it did always heat things up to make out with your friend to the cheers and encouragement of the people around you. It never meant anything, so why not? You trust Em, she trusts you, and you know that no matter what, you’ll have each other if no one else.

Em ordered one more round while you touched up your lipstick, feeling electric. You had a nice buzz, feeling tingly and charming. Scooting over to sit on the same side of the booth as your friend, you began to scan the room, smiling, searching, leaning close to talk in Em’s ear, pointing out who would or wouldn’t work for your stress reliever. Maybe you’d never needed to invoke “the plan” before because you and Em rarely fell for the same types. Agreeing wasn’t going to be easy. There were big guys, barrel chested, bearded and loud, young, smug white guys who were almost certainly in “finance” or whatever, ball cap wearing plaid shirted bros who would probably spring for pizza after. None you could agree on. You had begun to think that the fantasy could be enough to get you by when a man strode by you, sidled up to the bar, and waved to the bartender with such a commanding presence that you and Em were both spellbound. You blinked at him, looked at each other, looked back to him, and watched as he took his drink and turned to survey the room before finding a spot to settle in.

He was handsome. You would guess he was in his mid forties, putting him roughly fifteen years ahead of you, not that you minded. He had thick brown curls, just slightly overgrown, beginning to show a hint of gray, and creases at the corners of his eyes. He was in a suit, but no tie. He had a ring on his left hand.

“Probably meeting his wife.” You huffed to Em, more disappointed than was probably necessary for the circumstances. Her smile had dropped as well though, and you turned back to your drinks. You wanted to be hoes, not homewreckers. Right?

Dave had seen you. He saw you smiling and laughing, grabbing each other’s hands as you talked. It was hard to miss your animated conversation. Hard to not notice your low cut dress and her snug tank top. You must be in your early thirties. Maybe mid thirties. Adults, but with some spark of youth and possibility left. Dave secured a glass of whiskey and found his vantage point- a high top table in the corner. He could easily see you, but you’d have to crane your necks to see him.

He pulled out his phone and typed a quick text. “Late meeting, won't be home for a while. Don’t wait up, love you.” and sent it to Carol. Carol, his unassuming wife and mother of his children. Always so understanding about his late nights at the office.

The Silver Dollar wasn’t really the place to dance, but there was a juke box and a pool table, so rather than call it a night, you sunk a few dollars into the machine and selected Dreams by Fleetwood Mac, the first few notes drawing mixed responses from the nearby crowd. You can’t make everyone happy.

Em chalked her pool stick and you racked the balls- was that the right word? Who cares? You made them look like a triangle and sang along to your song. “It’s only me who wants to wrap around your dreams…” you sang to yourself as you stood and turned. Your eyes landed on the handsome man once more. His eyes were on you, his glass tilted to his lips and you could swear he was smiling. He couldn’t be, though. You smiled with closed lips and turned away.

“Em. Look. Look. That guy is LOOKING at us.”

Always subtle, Em dropped the end of her pool cue to the floor, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and smiled right at him.

“Maybe he’ll come over! Looks like he’s alone.”

You ventured another look, and he was indeed all alone at his table, and he was definitely still looking your way. He didn’t look away as he sat down his glass and strode toward you.

“Good song, but you suck at pool.”

You scoffed at his opening line, annoyed that he was already being a dick and eager to hear more of his smooth, deep voice.

“Show us how it’s done then, babe. Put balls in holes and maybe my friend will give you a kiss. Keep you from saying anything dumb.”

If he can be an asshole, you can be an asshole.

“Deal.”

He regarded you for a moment, leaned over the sticky felt, and jabbed the cue forward. The white ball tapped the orange ball and the orange ball knocked the yellow ball into the side pocket. Of course it did. He looked at Em expectantly, and ever the good sport, she kissed him softly, giving his tie a little tug. His smile was infuriating.

“How about you, sweetheart? What do you want to wager?”

You thought about it, then winked at Em.

“Make another shot like that and I’ll kiss her.”

“You’d do that anyway. Think of something else.”

There he went being an asshole again. A confident, cocky, good-looking asshole.

“Alright, make three more shots and we’ll take you to the bathroom.”

His eyes glittered and the corner of his mouth lifted a tiny bit as he looked back and forth from you to Em, and Em to you.

“I’m going to make four shots and then we’re going back to mine.”

“That’s a pretty bold assumption. What makes you think we would leave with you?” Em was at your side now, arm around your waist, while you combed your fingers through her hair lightly. You could tell she didn’t mind his lousy personality. She never recognized a red flag. You liked his voice though, and his eyes were kind of nice. He had the nose of a Greek god. If she wanted to go home with him, why shouldn’t you indulge her? Safer to go together anyway.

“You came here just to go home with somebody. It’s either one of these guys,” he said, gesturing to the crowd that had gathered around a college basketball game on the tv “or it's someone who can make you come.”

“Alright, well that’s a lot of big talk. Move the balls and we’ll see what happens.

And he does. First one, then another and another and another. He does it quickly and as easily as if the balls had been pulled with string. He grins wide, showing his straight white teeth and how his eyes crinkle at the corners. He really is handsome. Maybe you’d be insufferable too if you were an attractive man. He slid his arm around you, pulling you close for a kiss that made your pussy throb. When he pulled away, he didn’t turn you loose, just smirked and pulled Em in for another just like it. You heard her moan softly into his mouth.

“Let’s go.” He snaps his fingers and tilts his head toward the door. “I’ll get a cab.” By the time your tab was settled at the bar, a black sedan was waiting. He opened the door for you, ushering you inside with a gloved hand, sealing your plans for the night.

••••••

His apartment was immaculately clean, with little in the way of personality. This was clearly not his home, and while that raised a few questions, neither you or Em thought it was wise to ask. You didn’t ask about the ring, either. You asked his name and he’d told you, but offered nothing more. Maybe you should have been more cautious, but his cool, detached demeanor, the car with a driver, the expensive looking coat and shoes he wore, and the way he smelled clean and well-off in an indescribable sort of way were enough to reassure you that he wasn’t planning to murder you. He didn’t look like a killer.

“Get comfortable. We’ll be a while.” Dave called from the kitchen where he poured wine into three glasses. You and Em each settled into a cushion on the couch, leaving room for him to sit in the middle. When he returned with the wine, he frowned.

“You’re still dressed. I told you to get comfortable. Take your clothes off.” You were a little taken aback at how blunt he was, but you began to unzip your dress. He stopped you again, more thoughtful this time. “Undress each other.”

Dave knew girls like you. Fun girls. Girls he could blow off steam with. You would think you were giving him the thrill of a lifetime, that you were in control. Exactly the kind of girls he liked to push to their limits and see what they were really game for. Would one of you be more bold than the other? Would one of you pout and feel left out? Maybe you’d surprise him. Maybe you’d be just what he was looking for.

Turning to Em, you exchange knowing looks and pull her tank top up, gathering the material in your hands, slowly exposing her inch by inch, taking time to rub your hands over each bit of newly exposed skin. You took extra care in lifting the skimpy top over her tits, pulling the hem snug as you inched it up, letting them bounce lewdly as they were freed. You snuggled close to her, tracing your fingers over her hardening nipples as she finished unzipping your dress, letting it fall. Em gently squeezed your breasts, pushing them up, kneading at the plush swell of them, daring to lean forward to take a nipple into her mouth.

Of course, this was all a show, a little put-on for Dave’s benefit. Pleased with yourselves, you turned to see his reaction. He had taken his place on the couch, tie loosened, shirt untucked,knees spread wide, eyes dark, and hands resting suggestively, dangerously close to the bulge that strained against his pants.

He raised his eyebrows. “Keep going. I said naked. This isn’t skinemax, ladies.”

“Sure looks like you’re enjoying it so far.” Em piped up from behind you as she slid her hands around your waist, tucking her fingertips into the lacy band of your panties, sliding her hands forward and down to cup your mound. You wiggled your hips and smirked at him, holding his gaze as you leaned back to catch your best friend’s lips in a soft kiss. His hips rocked ever so slightly but he only reiterated “Keep. Going.”

Soon her jeans and both your panties were on the floor and you kissed, groping at each other in the best impression you could do of over-produced porn. You were both wet, seeping arousal, taking turns caressing each other’s pussies. There was no real intent in your touches, it was all theater.The way Dave watched and moved his hand to cover the tent in his pants didn’t escape you. You could see him gently pressing it and squeezing it, you saw how his chest rose and fell. After Em had rubbed your slick onto your nipples and blew on them to make them stiffen, you dragged your fingers through her folds and sucked her taste from your fingers. You kissed her deeply. “Don’t you taste good, baby?” You cooed to her.

You watched as Dave stood and loosened his belt, pulling it from his belt loops in a way that made you throb. Dave had had enough of your simpering. “Alright, enough of that. Let’s see if you can listen and earn a little reward, hm? Think you can do that? You both nodded, batting your eyes at him. “Knees, both of you. Right here.” He gestured to the floor at his feet. You obediently kneeled, waiting for his next move. The air was buzzing with anticipation as you got between his knees. You were close, softly pawing at each other, bare breasts bumping together, pouting and kissing and running hands up his thighs. “You sluts do this a lot, huh? So hungry for cock you’re willing to do anything for it.” He grinned darkly as he unzipped his slacks to release his turgid member.

It was big. you stared at it a moment, lips falling open in awe. You looked to Em, but found her similarly stunned by the cock Dave had just pulled from his pants. You could tell he was well endowed, but it wasn’t just big, it was beautiful. Thick, tanned, with a prominent vein running up the underside to a mouthwateringly fat head that shone with precome. “It won’t suck itself.” Dave interrupted your thoughts.

You licked your lips subconsciously as you watched him stroke his length lazily. The glint of his wedding band, the smooth pull of foreskin covering and uncovering his fat, leaking tip. You yourself for a moment, but Dave brought you back. “You’d do anything I told you to, wouldn’t you? Dumb little whores. You can’t help yourselves.”

You blinked up at him, nodding shallowly. He raised an eyebrow at you, and the time to talk was over. You gripped the thick base and licked up the length of him. Em held his balls in her palm as you worked, licking and sucking up one side until she joined you, working in tandem to slick him up with your combined saliva, taking impatient turns sucking the tip into your mouths. You tried to kiss each other with his cock between your lips, letting him thrust into the wet tunnel made by your mouths as your tongues meet under his heavy shaft. Suddenly Em pulls away, kissing you hard before gripping your hair in her hand to guide Dave’s cock into your mouth. She strokes him while she fucks him with your mouth, looking from him to you, pleased with her little trick. Your mind was blank. You let the two of them use you like a toy and your cunt dripped, wetting your thighs. Dave leaned over you and wrapped his warm hand around the back of your neck. You couldn’t see what was happening, but you heard the unmistakable sound of kissing.

“That’s good girls. Great. But if you want a little surprise you have to go get it.”

“Go get it?” You asked dumbly, not understanding what he meant.

“It’s in the bedroom. Right down the hallway. Go ahead, the door’s open.”

You and Em stood and moved toward the dark hallway, but his voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Uh uh. On your knees. Want to see you crawl for me.”

Dave was smirking, but he just held out his hand, gesturing for you to go ahead of him. Another look is exchanged between you and your friend. You saw the flash of uncertainty in her eyes, but she followed suit as you dropped to your knees, arching your back to make a show of crawling as seductively as possible while Dave followed, watching the sway of your hips.

“Really didn’t expect to bring home a whore tonight, let alone two.”

You made it to his bed and you both sat on your knees, assuming a submissive position without even being told. Dave had that effect.

“You’re fast learners. I think you earned your prize. Treasure chest is under the bed, sweetheart. Pull it out.”

He directed Em with a jut of his chin as he untied his tie, then unbuttoned his shirt with care, laying it neatly on the dresser. As he worked to undress, Em pulled a black briefcase from under the bed. She popped the latches and lifted the top, revealing an array of vibrators and dildos and toys you’d only seen in porn.

You picked up a glass wand with a little pink heart on one end, and teased it between your tits.

“This is quite a collection, Dave…You know how to use all this?”

Dave was stripped down to just his snug black boxers now, pretty cock tucked away once more. He knelt down and took your chin in his big warm hand and spoke softly.

“I’m not going to use them. You are.” He turned to look at Em, smiling sweetly. “On her.”

It sent a chill up your spine. Where did this man come from? Where did he learn to talk like this? How often does he do this? He was unreal, you thought. Em was similarly affected, her eyes were shining obsidian, and her hand was between her thighs.

“You want that? Hmm?” He pouted at her mockingly. “Get on the bed and lay down.” You reached for a purple vibrator, but he grabbed your wrist. “I’ll pick. Go get between her legs.” You might have been nervous, but when you stood, he smacked your ass playfully, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

Em had made herself comfortable on his pillows, hair fanned out around her head, knees bent, and fingers dipping aimlessly into her slit. “You’re so pretty.” You cooed to her. “Look at you, sexy girl. You ready to let him watch me fuck you?” Em kissed you, quick and sweet, a reminder that this was something you both wanted. “I’m ready for you, baby. Better make me come.”

Dave brought his “treasure chest” to the bed and climbed on behind you. He was close. You could feel his breath on your shoulder before his hands were on your thighs, your belly, pinching your nipple, never staying in one spot long. “I want you to play with her tits.”

You climbed over your best friend forever, and kissed her again, more sensually this time. You plucked at her nipple, then licked the other.

“Suck and squeeze.”

Dave directed from his spot in the bed. You did as he said. You propped yourself up on your elbows and squeezed both her plush breasts, pushing them together and sucking her pebbled little peak. She sighed and you licked over to the other to give it the same treatment, licking, sucking, swirling your tongue over the point. You flexed your fingers, dimpling her flesh. Her sighs became whines, and she began to roll her hips beneath you. You were lost in her warmth, her sweet scent.

“Stop. That’s enough. You’re both wet, probably soaking my sheets. Think you can make her come now?”

He hands you a smooth purple vibrator, and presses a button to bring it to life, buzzing in your hands.

Dave shuffled on the bed for a better view as you drew the toy across Em’ mound, making her buck her hips.

“Look at her body begging for it,” he admired. “Lower.”

You caressed her slick lips, twisting the toy over her slit teasingly, not pressing, just letting her feel the weight. Em groaned and twisted Dave’s sheets in her fists.

“Touch your tits, pretty girl,” you cooed to her “let’s show him how good you can be.”

She did as you said, delicately skating her fingers around her nipples as you clicked the button to kick the vibe to a higher setting.

Dave held your hips with his big, warm hands as he watched you glide his toy through her folds. You drew it from where she dripped and up over her clit, making several slow passes, before pushing it inside, eased by her arousal. She gasped and pinched at her nipples as you fucked her on the toy. She chased the sensation, needy and unashamed of her desperation to come for you and for Dave.

You wanted so badly to please him.

His breath was warm on your neck, it made your nipples tighten and your pussy throb to be his plaything. You pressed the buzzing tip of the vibrator to her clit and plunged two fingers inside, pumping them deep. In moments she was undone, squeezing your fingers, bucking her hips, rasping your name, but her eyes were on him.

While you were making her come on your hand, he was exploring your body with his hands, feeling the weight of your breasts, caressing over your stomach, testing the wetness of your slick and dripping center. He coated his fingers in your wetness and brought them to your nipples, teasing the tender points before bringing his fingers to your mouth, letting you suck his three slippery fingers clean.

When Em’s moans died down to soft panting, he took the vibrator and tossed it aside.

“That’s enough,” he declared, turning you and arranging you between her legs. He pushed you against her, you felt the heat of her soft body against you, her arms circling you to pluck at your nipples and push your tits together, kneading and squeezing them for Dave to enjoy.

He watched a moment, shoving his boxers back down his thighs to stroke his cock, dark eyes moving from your tits to your shiny slick pussy, to her lips kissing your shoulder and neck.

“The two of you were made for this, weren’t you? Just two little sluts waiting for a man who knew what to do with you.”

You both nodded and turned your heads to kiss each other, letting your tongues tease at each other.

Dave pushed your legs up and apart, spreading you wide, exposing you. He made Em hold you open, her hands under your knees like he showed her.

The three of you moved against each other, with you sandwiched between them, Dave driving into you, slowly at first so you could feel every bit of the sting and stretch as he entered. He was thick and pulsing inside you, seated deep and snug, you needed him to move.

He drew back slowly, and you anticipated the returning thrust, but he didn’t stop. He pulled out and ground his wet cock against your swollen, sensitive folds, the thick head of him nudging at your clit, then suddenly piercing you again, sawing in and out.

He set a punishing pace, slamming into you deep and hard, with one hand on the back of your thigh, and the other on Em’s shoulder, holding her just where the column of her neck sloped down, and felt the rapid beat of her pulse under his hand as you keened pathetically.

The angle of his hips let you feel the rough scratch of the trimmed hair at the base of his cock against your swollen clit. Your orgasm burst, sparking and hot, rippling through your body and his.

“Fuck,” he sneered, teeth bared. “Oh fuck, yes, little whore pussy wants my come.”

He pulled out of you suddenly, leaving you fluttering around nothing as you came down, and quickly repositioned to take his wet cock in his fist and aim the warm ropes of milky spend across your face.

Cum covered your lips, your nose, your cheeks and chin. You tasted the mild, salty flavor on your tongue.

Dave watched with satisfaction at his work, and Em looked on in dazed awe. He looked between your faces. “Clean her up. Don't waste it.”

Em licked your cheek, timidly at first. You twisted to give her better access, and she dragged her soft tongue through Dave’s mess, spreading it, humming at the taste. She reached around your chest to hold your tits in her hands, squeezing them, playing with them as she licked the cooling semen from your face and kissed it into your mouth, sharing it with you for Dave’s enjoyment. When you were finally done, you turned to him, pleased with yourselves.

David showed you to his en-suite and you and Em cleaned yourselves up.

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

You giggled and whispered to each other, wiping your faces with Dave’s thick, soft washcloths. You patted down your fucked out hair, and left the apartment hand in hand, declining Dave’s offer of an Uber. With your shoes hooked on your fingers, you looked at your best friend.

“Want to get Taco Bell?”

[guelyury]

Max Phillips, Dave York and Marcus Pike... Shaved Pedro era is so important to me.

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

this is your fault @guiltyasdave

“No, don’t think about it. Keep your eyes on me and focus on how it makes you feel,” he instructs with a firmness that had you complying within seconds.

His fingertips are wide and heavy on your tongue. Saliva is starting to pool and stick to his fingers. You grasp at his wrist with both hands to bridge the gap between your two bodies.

“Good. That’s good. Keep going.”

You lift the tip of your tongue and let the heft of his fingers weigh it down. Without thinking, you gently suckle. Dave’s eyes grow dark and focused, and it makes you suckle again and harder.

“There you are,” he breathes. “Just focus right here – focus on me.”

You whine at the encouragement, eyes feeling heavy and fogged, and split his fingers with your tongue. Your mouth hangs open with the movement, and he takes the opportunity to slowly rub his fingers back and forth along your gums.

“You like the way I feel in your mouth, bunny?”

The double meaning is nearly lost on you, but your cheeks burn with the confusing need his ambiguous, suggestive question drowns you in. Your brows scrunch in concentration. You pull his fingers out of your mouth just enough to answer.

“I like you in my mouth,” you whisper. “It feels good. You feel good. You make me feel good.”

He hums a lazy acknowledgement, draws his fingers back together, and slides them back into your mouth on the span of your tongue. “Suck.”

[kocoloco]

Art dump? Yea 👍

Can u tell who my fav troll is by now,,,

And murber dronesss, idk what I was doing w it, but im like, getting into it now, will be posting shit for it soon maybe, I need to sleep Frfr

Spinssnsnsjabahc