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whatsnewalycat · 4 months

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mindfuck

Dave York x f!Reader

Summary: Dave hypnotizes you.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 2.8k+

Warnings: hypnokink, not entirely good praxis of hypnosis, humiliation, implied infidelity, praise, smut, unprotected piv, D/s dynamic, dom dave, literal mind fucking so like a bit of body horror get into it

Notes: For @iamasaddie kinky May writing challenge. Prompt was hypnosis + Dave York. I found a lot of inspiration for this from a post in r/EroticHypnosis about mindfucking (can find again if anyone wants the link - lemme know!). Posting this in a hurry bc I am late to a thing so hopefully not tooooo many missed mistakes. OK THANK YOU FOR READING!!!

[ my masterlist ]

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All your life you wished you could turn off your thoughts at will.

Growing up, on those nights where your crowded head wouldn’t let you sleep, you would imagine twisting off the top of your skull like a jar lid and plopping your brain on the nightstand. It even worked sometimes, too, if you tried hard to convince yourself. When reminders of an upcoming math test or images of that cute boy in class crept into your purview, they had nowhere to go. They evaporated, and you slept.

Dave says you’re too smart for your own good. Sometimes when you’re lost in thought, he tells you he wants to empty that pretty little head of yours. Not in a condescending way, although you can see how someone might interpret it like that.

What he means is that he wants you to be with him when you’re with him. What he means is that he wants you to be present. Not thinking about the past or the future. Not reminding yourself of deadlines or analyzing the data stored in your brain or wondering what you mean to him exactly.

The first time he suggested hypnosis, you balked. Even after he explained how it worked, you were hesitant enough for him to drop the subject.

When he brought it up again, though, your skepticism swayed. You asked him for more details, so he dispensed the pros and cons and the step process. He could do it for you, he said. He knew how. He said he could rattle the bees from your buzzing honeycomb brain. All you had to do was trust him with this power.

So you did.

And you do.

Your valiant beekeeper meets you at this hotel every other Tuesday night, except on holidays. This isn’t the only one-on-one time he dedicates to you, but it’s by far the most reliable. He doesn’t always hypnotize you, either.

Regardless of whether he puts you in a trance or not, this standing date always starts the same. He slips you the keycard at some point throughout the day, only after he’s adorned it with a vase full of seasonal blooms and laid out something for you to wear.

Tonight he left you lilacs and matching lingerie. Intricate floral appliqués embellish the pastel nightie he laid out on the bed.

Opulence becomes you when you slip it on and pour a glass of champagne from the bottle Dave left to chill on ice. You mosey around the spacious high-end suite, sipping frosty bubbles as you admire the birds-eye view of downtown, the tall buildings and bustling city life all drenched in golden light from the setting sun.

As the time nears eight o’clock, you empty your champagne flute and make yourself comfortable on the plush bed. Crystals hanging from the chandelier fragment soft white light into dazzling tiny spectrums, sparkling rainbow when the door to the suite opens, then closes.

Dave enters the room with an air of authority that makes you straighten your spine and draw back your shoulders. After chucking off his jacket, he empties his pockets on the dresser and loosens his tie, then turns around to meet your gaze.

His stern expression melts as he looks you over, seeming to appraise how your body fills out the lilac nightie. Heat sparks in the middle of you when he greets you, “Hey beautiful.”

“Hi.”

He approaches your side and takes a seat at the edge of the bed, rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt, “Comfortable?”

Nodding, you sit up to pull him in for a kiss. His plush lips respond without hesitation, firm but generous as he slips a wide palm around your body and brings you even closer.

When he pulls back, he asks, “Are you ready?”

“Ready.”

He cradles your jaw, searching your face with blatant admiration before separating his body from yours. You lay back into the soft embrace of the pillows and wiggle around until you find the sweet spot of comfort while Dave drags an armchair to your bedside and sits down. Once you’re both settled and still, he begins.

“Close your eyes.”

You close them.

“Take a deep breath in…”

You take in air until you can’t.

“…and slowly release it.”

You exhale, rationing your metered breath through a straw-sized ‘o’ formed by your lips.

“Good. Take a deep breath in… two three four… and slowly release it. Deep breath in… two three four… now slowly release it.”

Behind closed lids, you concentrate on the rhythmic ebb and flow of your lungs contracting and expanding. His warm voice surrounds you. Envelops you.

“That’s it. Keep breathing just like this. Each time you inhale, draw the life from your breath, and exhale the rest. Notice how cleansing it feels to let it go. How the tension melts from your muscles every time you take a deep breath in…”

You inhale.

“…two three four…”

Hold it.

“…and slowly release it.”

Then exhale.

“Perfect. Keep doing that. Now imagine that every time you take a deep breath in, a warm wave washes over you… and as you slowly release it, the tide carries away tension, allowing your muscles to soften and relax…”

Each big lungful heats the tar holding your body together. You dissolve into the mattress as Dave’s deep, honeyed voice resonates through you.

“Again, take a deep breath in as the warm wave of relaxation washes over you, two three four… and slowly release it as the tide carries away your tension, allowing your muscles to soften and relax. Concentrate on my voice. Recognize it as a touchstone. If your mind starts to wander, have it return to the touchstone, return to my voice, and relax even deeper.”

Trees tower above you, stretching high into the pale blue sky. The moss-covered rock before you glows as he speaks.

“Notice how relaxed you feel. Notice that every time the warm wave of relaxation washes over you, two three four… tension melts from your body as you allow yourself to sink deeper and deeper into the sensation. Allow the relaxation to seep from your muscles into your bloodstream… to course through your veins and calm every cell in your body.

“Focus on your face. All those tiny little muscles in your forehead and around your eyes, notice how relaxed they are. Notice how the relaxation melts the muscles in your cheeks and jaw, letting your mouth go slack. You might feel as though you want to speak, but find yourself so relaxed that you can’t. That’s ok, because it feels good and safe to let the words dissolve on your tongue. Doesn’t it?”

When you try to respond, your lips don’t move. This fact doesn’t bother you. It feels good and safe in the forest, staring up at the treetops.

You realize you’re floating in a pond. You hear birds peacefully chirping and know it’s just you and them and the touchstone for a million miles.

Everything feels profound, but simple. You are small and big like a speck of dust or a galaxy. You are safe. You are at peace.

“Doesn’t it feel so good to relax, darling?”

Your fingertips rest against the soft moss of the touchstone.

“Yes, it does,” you tell it.

It glows with a satisfactory hum that vibrates through you.

“Perfect. Continue to focus on my voice. Soon, I will ask you to open your eyes, then close them. When you close your eyes, you’ll notice a warm wave of relaxation washing over you, turning knots into snarls and snarls into strands, every muscle in your body gently untangling as you allow them to go limp and heavy…”

You understand and follow his instructions.

“Open your eyes and take a deep breath in, two three four… and slowly release it, closing your eyes, letting the warm wave wash over you and pull you in deeper.

“Soon, I’ll ask you to open your eyes again. When you close them, you’ll notice the warm wave of relaxation wash over you even stronger than before, pulling you even deeper.

“Open your eyes, two three four… and close your eyes, sinking deeper and deeper. Good job. We’ll do it one more time, and when you close your eyes and relax, sink as deep as you can, all the way to the bottom. Open your eyes, two three four… and close your eyes.”

You’re lying in a meadow of wildflowers outside the forest, looking up at the serene blue sky. The earth beneath you is solid and brings you an immense sense of comfort.

“I want you to think about desire. Think about that warm, lush longing inside you. Concentrate on how good this sensation feels in your body, pleasure swelling thick at the center of you.”

His voice surrounds you, but you don’t see its source. The soothing timbre resonates from the wildflowers and the earth and the sky, from everywhere and nowhere all at once like how you imagine God sounded to Old Testament prophets.

You bring your focus to desire. It does feel good. Amazing, actually. Tangible like a glowing ball of heat between your thighs that throbs with each syllable he speaks.

“Allow the sensation to grow. Let it stretch and pulse and heat your skin. Let your mind empty of everything except this arousal. When thoughts arise, you let them fall away and arousal fills the empty space. You’ll let this happen over and over again until your head is empty of everything but arousal. Do you understand? You can speak now, darling, go ahead and answer.”

“Yes.”

“Try it for me.”

You acknowledge the cognitions that populate your mind. When you think about how you need to put gas in your car, you imagine the reminder dropping away, then imagine the warm wanting glow of desire branching up through your body to take its place. You think about a work project, but it loosens and falls into an abyss. Desire floods the space in its wake, a thick hot liquid that glows with light like lava, spreading to each new vacancy with ease as the thoughts drop from your consciousness.

“How does it feel?”

“Good,” you breathe, voice faint on your tingling tongue.

“Do you like how it feels, being horny and mindless?”

Your husband’s face appears, taking up your whole mind, then falls away. Rich, bubbling pleasure surges through you to fill the gap. You have to suppress a moan to respond.

“I like it,” you nod, “Fuck, it feels amazing.”

“Good girl. Now, you might notice something interesting happen when I ask you a question. You might notice that when I ask you a question, you’ll try to form a thought to answer. When you do this, you’ll feel my cock enter your mind. It’s bigger and harder than you’ve ever seen it, swollen and thick and so fucking ready for you, darling. When you try to form a thought, it pushes forward into the wet hot folds of your brain, severing the connections that typically allow you to think, preventing a response from forming. My cock pulls out, and slowly thrusts forward again, pushing out the thoughts, over and over for as long as you consider a response to my question. It becomes impossible to focus. You might notice that this penetration feels like it would in your pussy. My hard cock rutting in and out, sending waves of arousal through your body, fucking the thoughts from your head. Every time my cock moves, you’ll try to respond but cannot make yourself focus. It feels amazing. You give in to the sensation, allowing it to overtake you completely. When you’re fully saturated with arousal and nothing else, my cock pulls out of your mind.”

Your skin feels static and warm when you imagine him pushing his smooth, throbbing length into your brain. A shaky whimper croaks in your throat. Your heart thuds heavy within your chest, circulating desire, warm and wet, to every cell in your body.

“You might notice that when I ask you another question, any attempts at thought or sensations that come up except arousal will be fucked from your head until you surrender to the arousal. It feels good to be dominated in this way. To let pleasure consume your entire being.”

Licking your lips, you nod to show you understand.

“Now when I ask you a question, you’ll allow your subconscious to follow my instructions. Are you ready, darling?”

“Yes.”

“How was your day?”

When you try to recall your day and formulate an answer, the tip of his cock pierces the equator of your brain, splitting the hemispheres. He drives forward slowly, steadily, making you moan as he stretches you apart and tears all those delicate tissues that generate thought. Still, you try.

My day, how was my day…

He drags his cock out, then drives it deeper inside you.

Day… how was…

Your nerve endings buzz as he pulls out, gooey arousal shines on the shaft of his thick cock. He plunges forward into the hot center of you. You work your hips and whine. You can’t remember what he asked. It doesn’t seem as important as the pleasure clinging to your insides as he fucks you, so you give up.

His cock pulls out of your mind completely.

“What’s the weather supposed to be like tomorrow?”

You consider the question. The tip of him breaches your brain, forcing out forecasts and clouds and sunshine. Fragments return as you attempt to answer again.

The weather tomorrow…

He pumps in and out of you, obliterating whatever it was he wanted to know. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except the insatiable pleasure thrumming through you as he rubs against all your hungry nerves, giving them what they want.

“Oh my god,” you hear yourself gasp.

“How often do you think about fucking me?”

Seeds of embarrassment sprout the tender beginnings of thought, then he fucks them out of your head until you’re rolling your hips, moaning and nodding for more.

“Do you make yourself come when you think about fucking me?”

Only a loading screen appears before he’s inside you again. His perfect, thick cock pumps you full of this throbbing heat. You wish it would never end. You want to feel this and only this forever.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl. So horny and mindless for me. Letting my cock push deep and hard into the folds of your brain, fucking out all your thoughts, leaving your head empty to stuff you with arousal until you’re swollen and ripe, nothing else left but how fucking horny you are.”

“Sssooooo fucking gooood,” you slur.

“How would your husband feel if he saw you like this? In this hotel room, all dressed up in lingerie I bought for you, moaning and writhing on the bed?”

A thought starts, and he pounds it out of you, merciless in its rhythm as each thrust pushes you higher and higher. Horny and mindless, that’s all you are. Nothing matters except this.

“Do you really think we’ll run away together? Do you really think I’d leave my wife for you?”

A rotten sensation tingles in your chest before you feel him enter you from both ends, the cock in your mind working in tandem with the cock in your pussy. You choke out a moan and nod, body vibrating with a thick, hot sensation you can’t find the beginning or end of.

“Fuck fuck fuck, holy fuck—”

He groans, rolling his hips faster, fucking your entire being so hard and fast that you become pleasure itself. It’s everything and everywhere for eternity and you gladly accept this fact, wanting to forever exist in this moment.

“That’s so good, darling. So fucking good. You want me to let you come, don’t you?”

You nod frantically as the edges of you start to fray.

“Go ahead, come for me.”

His permission completely unravels you, ripping away the last delicate thread holding you together. You sob as you fall apart into a thousand pieces. His hips stutter and he moans, giving you a few deep thrusts before pulling out.

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath. You float in the peaceful pond, staring up at the towering treetops that kiss the sky.

“Now in a minute, I’ll bring you back to your normal state. When I count to four and tell you to wake up, you’ll come out of the trance relaxed and refreshed. Your mind will feel spotless. You’ll know that I adore you and hold you close to my heart.”

You hear birds peacefully chirping. You know it’s just you and them and Dave for a million miles. You are small and big like a speck of dust or a galaxy. You are safe. You are at peace.

“And one two three four… wake up.”

#dave york #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #whatsnewalycat writes

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precious-little-scoundrel · 7 months

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🍸 Harry Crosby headcanons

18+ -helluva lot of nsfw under the cut but interspersed with a lotta fluff and domesticity…to me that’s the appeal of this man, cannot be separated one from the other: the unassuming sweater wearing vet at the block party is also a man of hidden depths.

Long promised and woefully incomplete, the word count was getting out of hand so I’m tossing it out, there’s more where this came from. Not edited so, apologies

Entirely co-written by myself and my comrogue @crazymadpassionatelove , enhanced and bedazzled by chats with @ab4eva including special additions from other guests who commented under my announcement post, credit is given at each specific point for their contributions

|screencap cred grabbed from: @hawkinsfuller

First off let me say it’s been ages since I read A Wing and A Prayer. I remember loving it, loving him and I cannot stress how much I respect and admire the real Harry Crosby and his Jean, the Missus of our dreams.

This is purely for fun, a heavy mix of both Boyle’s portrayal and a tad of Crosby’s real life vibes as taken from his accounts by me. Sometimes you gotta take historical figures’ virtues in one area -say navigation and math- and translate it to the more suggestive aspects of life -say, how to find a clitori- *gunshot*

Because this man’s biography is the most oral-leaning, drink-your-respect-women-juice book ever. Ok, almost ever. For a wwii book at least. Uhem so -I am prejudiced, sue me.

See, sometimes it’s the quiet, stressed ones with a self consuming desire to please who have the cozy sweaters and the attentive appreciation for your interests and the stubby fat schlongs and the propensity to keep you in suburban comfort all your days

The compulsive drive to call you “button” and be on time for church and thank you for your scrambled eggs each morning with eager kitchen countertop oral before waking you children up with annoyingly soft catchphrases they’ll recite fondly at his funeral: “rise and shine” etc

Also back to the perfectly respectable schlong for just a moment -This is a Thing! Justice for the perfectly adequate plug stoppers, not everyone needs a rolling pin, who can resist giving head when the head is the same gorgeous color as his lips?!

Mr Crosby is skipping off to lecture college kids about literature post-war with a pep in his step that you put there without fail, you can’t help it, it’s as essential as the matching “his and hers” coffee mugs you bought during your honeymoon

Cookies slightly burned cuz you’re busy as bunnies in the bathroom while the kids ride bikes in the cul-de-sac is a Crosby staple

This is a man who as husband keeps you well supplied with mixers and microwaves and cute little nighties and also loves your brain -SCORE.

Loves to gift you with bath oil and fun stuff to smell good. He's into lavender. It benefits him in the end, loves to sit on the edge of the tub and just talk with you for ages

Croz’s go-to distresser is to have Jean sit on his face until his vision spots

She knows as soon as he walks in the door. Fixes him a Shirley Temple, takes him by the hand to the bedroom and …..boom.

De—stressed

As for the ptsd nightmares? He just barely starts to thrash in his sleep and Jean is rolling that man over and taking matters into her own hands

You’re Jean now, you do realize that don’t you? It was never ever going to be anyone but Jean

This man leaves love letters on your pillow, in your apron pocket, in the dash of your car anywhere at all that you’re likely to be. All of this even though he’s gonna be home by six that evening.

Also, hear me out: lots of evenings he just lays down next to you for ages, facing each other on your sides, absentmindedly mapping your body with his calloused palms and fingering you for ages while talking about Persuasion.

Actually gives a shit about your opinions too, and not in the way of wanting to argue them. When you make a good point his eyes get even droopier and he grabs your neck and…

“You're one smart cookie Mrs Crosby”

“My clever, wise, beloved…”

Honestly though, deep connections and the ability to go vulnerable, and if those moments are often concluded with little laughs to shake off the moment -it doesn’t diminish it

Can actually talk about dying to you, not in a morbidly preoccupied way, but he can face it and admit it and be vulnerable enough to acknowledge the likelihood

Then get on with what needs doing

He appreciates how well you grow to know him, and he in turn makes a lifelong study of you

Also, this man is so highly attuned to your well being.

Yes you have to put up with his stress but for you? He will man-up repeatedly and without thought. He doesn’t even think twice about just up and leaving whatever situation is tiring you. did you see him hop up to get the fuck outta that bar fight? Yeah so, you’re bored? Tired? Stressed? It’s not even machismo it’s just a homebody not giving a fuck with the subtext of “my wife and I would like to go home and read and cockwarm”

Often gives the shiftiest excuses to army buddies and coworkers just to go home and hang with you, swears he has to repair that squirrel feeder -or that an alligator is in his swimming pool, “sorry guys maybe drinks next week”

Don’t tell the guys but…HE PAINTS YOUR TOENAILS

Maybe some of your high school friends snickered about Harry Crosby way back when. Making googly eyes at you and barely getting out the most stammered greetings? Bookish and a little clumsy at times?

Ha, you won in the end

He comes home in one piece, that beautiful schlong still intact

you prayed for that ok?

“Lord keep my husband safe -- and his girthy manhood in tact as well” …for the babies you’re hoping for of course...just that… kneeling in silk pajamas each night, adding this addendum with a blush but was always faithful to keep it in your prayers

Sometimes you have that thought in church as well...so you has to take a couple deep breaths and calm yourself...it's because you want children...not because you’re already so sprung off this man's dick after only a couple weeks of married life.

weeks that feels like a lifetime ago now, by the way

Prim and lovely Jean Crosby staring off into stained glass worlds thinking of having her tight little hole tugged open and her guts rearranged, it’s even worse than her thoughts prior to the wedding, because she’s had the experience, then suddenly it was ripped away

And she’s empty and scared to death for him

She gets asked to sing at the funeral of a lieutenant who never even got off the ground during a training flight,

work and church and such are hopeless distractions

Wanders through the department store wondering if every other wife misses this way, does everyone feel the same primal ache?

Dear Jean Crosby terribly worried she’s a freak yet entirely unrepentant for it

But ya know what’s probably funny? Across the ocean Harry Crosby is sometimes so direly missing his wife in the carnal way that he just about spaces out too, and god knows there’s zero privacy anywhere and the showers are the showers but like???? it’s just a no-go most times and everyone gets very confused when he’s in this mood?? Not at all suspecting baser distractions are what’s at play. Somehow someone figured it out, maybe he actually snapped a little about having five seconds to himself while reading a letter and they’re like

And somehow there seems to suddenly be five minutes or so when NO ONE but Crosby is in the showers?!

It only takes him two minutes to get there but he needs to stand there catching his breath and clutching at his heart while he thinks of Jean sprawled beneath him

This is probably Douglass’ doing? Because he’s a good dude, he doesn’t underestimate Croz AND he’s a dirty little bastard himself

“Fellas, the man got himself a wife while half of you guys are virgins? Of course he has urges?”

In a quiet, rare moment, Gale bends his ear -Harry is so modest and low key...unlike some folks *looking at you Bucky*- “So, uh, where'd ya say you and the missus went off to before ya came here?“

Gale’s gotta casually open the door for this conversation “Lots of good sights to see? I, um, haven't done much traveling myself”

It takes Croz a few conversations until he realizes just what Gale means, until then there’s a lot bewildered eyebrows at the inquiry and bashful appreciation for the interest: “Major Cleven I-I already told you, sir, we had a little cabin in the Alleghenies for a week?“

He's been telling Jean about Major Gale Cleven, about how she'd really like him. Gale is a good fella. He tells her about all their "travel talk"

Until one day Jean writes back: “Oh honey, that Cleven of yours is a virgin”

Whether Harry divulges to Gale anything he learned about ladies in that little cabin in the mountains writhing before a fire on a bearskin rug, that first time Harry actually didn’t stop and ask if Jean was dying every time she made a noise but instead, kept going until her cried properly built and she screamed…

well, it was probably an abbreviated account that mostly consisted of “wives are just wonderful people, Major Cleven” with a far off look in his eyes

Gale leaves him to it after all- Harry was married for like 3 seconds before he left, It's literally either playback of the last horrific mission or thinking of the curve of her spine

He gets the dreamiest look on his face, eyes all shiny, mouth a little slack

Somehow these two can be so passionate and yet it’s so wholesome and good and angelic?!!! It’s the allure of them

Because it’s all in these gentle and safe and good boundaries? Like it isn’t complicated and yet it’s not simple and it’s neither settling nor is it turbulent. something to be said for “doing it right”

They genuinely thank God for each other, they’re so sure it was always intended to be just them

I have 1k of headcanons just for the homecoming ok? Y’all will have to request those separate

But once home:

The eye contact they make at social events?? It’s a whole language, the most loving and adorable thing ever

He may not be a real gem of a singer but he’s an excellent hummer. so much gentle humming around the house while he’s fixing the stove light or rocking a baby to sleep or-

You know what I mean don’t you? Some men can just humm and you’re instantly wet? No I don’t mean humming a Billie Holliday tune

I mean humming when you make a new reaction to his incessant fingering while he’s reading, makes him look away from the page and arch a brow, highly inquisitive puppy dog look on his face, reading glasses pulled down.

*a new spot? After all this time? Must investigate further*

This man, when in his element, is a goddamn tease, he’s impossible, he’s goofy, he makes sex the joyous sacrament its supposed to be every damn time and he ain’t shy to remain stark naked for ages

Praise kink for miles in that, once you’ve praised him, he will keep doing whatever earned it for the next two hours. Brace yourself

He can recite your favorite literature passages (he knows them and took pains to memorize them by your tenth anniversary) when he’s gently plowing you from the back with his hand on your neck and your ear lob in between his teeth

He’s a biter my friends -gotta keep quiet somehow, can’t scar the passel of children y’all made, after all

So many excuses given to kids about “mama and I need to talk about the mortgage” -very rarely is mortgage even thought of once the door is closed and locked

But that brings us back to the early days, it’s one thing to know someone so well after all those years but the early days?

Two Virgins named Jean and Harry went straight from the chapel to fucking like Bunnies before he went to war

Harry had done his research tho. All that reading…

Harry Crosby totally ate his wife out on their wedding night.

even though he’d never really seen a full vagina before

he’s a bit methodical, yeah? At first? with a hint of overly flustered and terribly delighted

So I’m just picturing him like hunkering down there, tentative but firm hands on your thighs: “to get my bearings, honey pie” as he takes in the lay of the land

because there’s a lot happening down there on a lady, ok? -there’s petals and more petals and slippery slopes and little buttons and a tiny hole that has to be for pee, no way he’s supposed to go in that one?! but, but she doesn’t have another? Well the backdoo- no can’t even think of that. Oh god ok, ok, vaginal opening, -I guess that’s a vaginal opening?! and due north, a little button that makes her squeak when I touch it. ok ok, might as well start there…

I can see him with a metaphorical pencil behind his ear, ready to jot down notes

Jeanie finally sighs and grips him by the ears and hauls him up for a kiss and just grinds against him and insists it’s lovely

“just kiss me, silly.” she says to him after awhile.

“Mmm, I do like kissing you, Jean” he grins back

he’s naturally kissing his way to her boobs and staying there a lovely long time but she starts pushing at his dark head, *hint hint* lower down her belly and lower, and lower and he’s so caught up he doesn’t even realize it until there’s a sweet little patch of curls under his chin and he looks up with the oddest expression of curiosity and doubt on his face only to be met with Jean’s expectant eyebrow

She wouldn’t want me to?—-*ah, she just face planted me in pussy, ok then*

Lapping at it with the biggest grin, there may or may not have been some noise complaints

the whole apartment complex just knows he’s a good husband, never would peg him as a stud if you met him in the hallway but, Jean sure takes forever to say goodbye to him in the mornings so he must do something right

All the neighbors just can't help but be happy for those two kids

They cook them food and leave the casserole dishes on the landing so they can savor each other for as long as possible before he leaves

Next Sunday they show up at church like dutiful little Americans and they’ve got hickies everywhere and his cheeks are a permanent pink, Her knees are red and raw under her church dress

I feel like maybe they get a little adventurous as their time together draws to a close? Maybe they break a dining room chair? She's too mortified to put it out on the curb

*saves it for 50 years*

Some of those wedding china ends up in pieces on the floor. Can't explain to her aunts why they don't have a full set all of a sudden

i really hope he never loses that occasional hair trigger premature ejaculation tendency.

Sometimes it even shocks him, “O-Oh...shoot”

The last day together is a dismal and precious night

The poor man probably laid there on her sweaty boobs after blowing his last load with the saddest *fml* face on as he processed it being, indeed, his last

But HOMECOMING!

and now the war is over they can set up house and make babies

A small breeding kink, after all, these men marched home from war and basically were told "get a job and let's repopulate for all the boys we lost!"

It’s so damn primal when you think about it but under the veneer of the starched and polished 50’s

Croz can't think straight in that tight little hole, let alone think of the ramifications of another baby

“Give it to me, give me another, come on Harry, we've got an empty space in the Christmas card anyway, think of it!! fill me up baby oh godddd Jesus bless your pretty dick-*

it’s the most mundane reasons and he still busts a nut like she’s some filthy vixen and not his sweet and slightly too optimistic wife

frantic love making with a sweater and socks still on, too

Jean is a writher because the longer they are married the longer he lasts and soon she’s come and he just keeps going and she cannot keep quiet then and he’s too big to ignore or calm down between, just thick enough to always be tugging just right and she fully sobs from it sometimes

Often she’s trying to cup herself?!? Fully spasming and shaking and curling in but his strong forearm is over her belly and his lips on her ear

This man is a god at spooning sex

she is so cock feral when she falls pregnant it almost alarms him

The books didn't say anything about this?! He's exhausted and dehydrated and his classes are suffering as a result

Wants to ask Egan if he encountered this phenomenon

His war buddies become a new father support group

"Hang in there pal, only three more months"

They’ll be in the kitchen just chatting before dinner, she wants to tease him. Scoops a little cherry pie filling onto her finger. He licks it and sucks it off -- bites the finger too, in the background dogs are barking and kids are running amuck

As the Crosbys you’re in for a life of very benign but nauseatingly idyllic Christmas parties.

Snow globes, y’all

Sweaters, spiked eggnog and very well thought out gifts

Harry is the sort to carry Jean's purse when they are out shopping and she is trying on clothes. He also has no problem going and buying her sanitary napkins at the drugstore when she's on her period, because it's completely normal and there's nothing for anyone to be embarrassed about. Basically, he is just stupidly in love with her. He's like a puppy who will always follow, but she doesn't take advantage of that fact (credit to:@noneedtoamputate)

He is Harry “Have You Met My Wife?” Crosby back home, too, it’s even worse when he gets tipsy and his confidence grows and good luck shutting him up about how beautiful she is

This is the sorta man whose kids only learn Daddy was a goddamn boss during the war when they’re outta college, a very casual “oh yeah, that was sort of a thing, pass the salt.”

It’s canon this man cut his own son’s hair all his little life, propped him up on a little stool in the back yard and got to trimming -some of the only times the boy ever heard of those devastating missions

Imagine? Same man who used to take you out on the porch into the night air and rock against his sweater when you were a baby and wouldn’t settle is the same man who bombed the hell outta Fortress Europe

He’s the kind of man whose kids are so enamored over how both sides of the coin could settle in the same man, they end up making a documentary about him

Now I also need you to think of this man at bath time in the early 50’s -Shirt sleeves rolled up, top two buttons on his pristine white button up shirt popped with a peak of chest hair showing through, his curls getting steamed by his kids bubble baths

He’s got the prettiest slightly hairy forearms, y’all -according to Jean at least

Gives himself a bubble beard to make his kids laugh, will stay on his knees watching them play for ages, fully participating

His white shirt gets fully transparent with all this splashing and Jean has to really keep her mind on what’s next when she can so easily see his hair and pretty little nipples pebbled in a chill under them. Stops her whining about water on the floor in seconds.

Harry’s already hushing her and mopping it up with a towel anyway

The Crosby kids will have memories of their idiotically in love and enthralled parents who loved being parents, wrapping their baby selves snuggly into towels and setting them on the counter and just cracking up over how cute they looked with their chubby and shiny widdle faces poking out of terry cloth

Jean and Harry spend a lotta time doing that, they just love their kids, ok?

Brushing their cute little Croz curls

Jean can’t say no to a single one with their sad puppy eyes their daddy gave them

Sometimes they sit the kids in front of the fireplace (they obviously needed a house with a fireplace after that honeymoon) and line them up. Talk about them as if they aren't sitting right there. "Honey, look at those gorgeous eyes -- and his smile! Oh my, who do these cuties belong to?"

But it’s not all placid domesticity. Picture this:

Crosby with a mega phone, organizes a neighborhood Easter egg hunt. He's in charge, his aviators on, taking this so seriously

There are maps, he’s planned this for weeks, some of those traits and skills he picked up during the war come back at the oddest times

this gets even more intense if any of the war buddies are there

Harry writes letters to them strategizing, they all come and bring their own kids

It makes the local paper for being one of the biggest Easter egg hunts the state has ever seen

Night falls, children fall asleep and there are still some eggs left. Armed with booze and flashlights, the boys go out to collect the rest

Harry and Jean don't collect any though, they end up in a bush necking somewhere

Bucky gets very adamant about finding them and Brady is just as adamantly begging him not to

But Major Egan cannot be stopped, he rallies his men, hopping on the kids’ bikes and scooters

Everyone heckling each other in the dark suburban neighborhood

"Ya lost your touch Buck, keep up will ya?"

They all end up in a schnapps induced heap in the Crosby's backyard, long limbs all folded up on too small equipment

Jean and Harry leisurely stroll back up the street under lamp glow to their house where everyone is feral and collapsed and calling loudly for their hosts

Sharing soft little smiles and picking twigs out of each others hair

They tuck these idiot men in on the couches and floor, blankets, sleeping bags and dogs

Hear me out: Jean is the only human able to talk a belligerent Bucky out of his thirtieth beer

She has that sweet way about her that makes every person wanna be a better man for her

When he finally gives in and throws his arm over her little shoulders and swears she’s a good woman, Harry is there with the pan and the aspirin and the blanket

She makes them all the most perfect hangover breakfast the next morning, gingham checked apron stretched over swollen belly

Harry nuzzles her belly when she stops at his plate to dish up the eggs

Everyone wants to gag over how perfectly content these two are but that would be a waste of the best breakfast in the USA

And if Jean happens to make the best baked goods on the block - Croz is making sure everyone knows just who’s muffins those are on the bake sale table. Or if she wants to pursue a career or education? Harry is her biggest cheerleader, doing anything and everything to support her and being sure that everyone knows how incredible she is at what she does. (Credit @blurredcolour)

They may be the sweater wearing, block party and Sunday school couple but don’t think anybody gets away with being snide to Mrs. Jean Crosby -there will be comeuppance, even if it’s just an exquisitely literate verbal evisceration.

There's even more often a roaming band of local kids who kick the shins of everyone who's mean to Mrs. Crosby, because she gives them sweets and feeds them when they're hungry and cleans up their scrapes when play gets too rough and -if Mr. Crosby hands out a comic or two to the boys that "accidentally" tripped some bloke who was harassing his wife, well. All is fair in love and war. (Credit to @promptedwordsmith)

When in the summer of 49 the Crosbies get a swimming pool dug? It might as well be considered public property.

not just the kids who are attached to the crosbies, though. your home is a constant revolving door of visitors - including a bunch of ex-servicemen. if it's not bucky lounging in the pool, or rosie painting the fence in his shirtsleeves because he wanted to be helpful, then douglass is smoking a cigarette in the yard while trying to make you laugh. ev is asking harry to show him how to read this goddamn map bc they're supposed to be taking a trip to the grand canyon in a month, and bubbles is over for dinner every other night. even brady sometimes shows his face, if only to carp at harry for getting them lost over france that one time while working the barbecue because you asked him to. when you and harry bought the house with an extra room you weren't sure you would ever use, you didn't expect it to be occupied as often as a popular hotel. if anyone ever had any bad intentions toward the crosbies, they're definitely rethinking it. those that don't...well. being in the air corps teaches one all sorts of creative ways of getting back at people. (Credit to @fidelias)

Imagine all the different skills the Crosby kids (_and their neighbor friends who never seem to leave_) learn from these guys?

“Oh yeah, Bucky Egan taught me how to swim while wearing his aviators…”

In other words:

Harry Crosby went home and built himself a little Norman Rockwell Camelot and then opened the doors of the kingdom to his buddies and -that’s as it should be.

And that’s not even mentioning how the Air Force and the CIA walked up to his front porch and interrupted a backyard ballgame to ask him for his help

It sucks to be super smart and needed when all ya wanna do is teach literature, go camping and help keep the church life going

But still

Jean sure looked good in Pakistan, the kids enjoyed a new culture and Harry likes to say he may have done some good

#mota fanfic #masters of the air #harry crosby #Harry Crosby fanfic #Harry Crosby x reader #mota headcanons #masters of the air fanfiction #anthony boyle #hbo war fanfic

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johnwickb1tsch · 5 months

Text

break me, softly

When your ex Jack Traven pays you a late night visit after a tough case, you can’t turn him away. Jack Traven x Fem!Reader ficlet

warnings: smut. angst. brief mention of hostage situation/death. slight inebriation. fluff. ❤❤❤

For @treedaddymcpuffpuff who whispered in my ear "hey you should watch Speed" and sent me down this rabbit hole (i luv u girl, you're our Keanuverse Guide & Tastemaker!) 😘😘😘 and @scarlettspectra who requested some fluff fic 😘😘😘.

It’s late at night, when you hear the soft knock on your apartment door. Usually, you wouldn’t dream of answering such a thing–a woman living alone, in this city? You’re not looking to get murdered. But something, some feeling from deep in your gut, pulls you out of bed. You walk on bare feet in just your nightie and look through the peephole. Nothing.

You know it’s probably a bad idea, but that uneasiness nags at you still. Not that you’re in danger. That someone needs you. You have a sense about that, after so many years as a nurse. Or maybe, you just always have.

You undo the deadbolts and stick your head out, to see the tall figure of a man retreating down the hall.

You would know that backside anywhere. Those broad shoulders, that trim waist, those long legs…and by the way he’s walking, you can tell he’s a little drunk.

“Jack?”

He freezes in his tracks, clearly debating with himself. Probably wondering what the fuck he’s doing here, and if you’ll tell him to go to hell, after the way he pushed you away three months ago after dating for two whole years.

He turns to face you slowly. You can say a lot of things about Officer Jack Traven–but never that he’s a coward.

“Hey, y/n.”

It’s the first time you’ve seen him, since the day he shattered your world when he broke things off with you. It feels about precisely like being punched in the gut. He’s still so handsome it hurts; those soulful dark eyes, cheekbones to make a fashion model weep, a manly-man’s jawline softened by such a full, sweet mouth. Immediately, upon looking at that face you still love so well, you know something is wrong.

“Are you ok?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then closes it. Takes a deep breath, tries again. Nothing. It’s as good as a five page report, to you. To you, who knows his every gesture, his every tell. For all it’s worth, now.

You already knew, in the back of your mind, that you were still in love with this man. It was like a fine buzzing in your heart you’d managed to push into the background of your day to day. But seeing him again makes it all surge up with a vengeance. You know that being near him again will be like feeding your heart through a paper shredder–slowly. You also know that something terrible must have happened at his work, for him to show up here like this, and so you open the door wider, laying your heart on the sacrificial altar, the way you always do.

“Come on,” you say gently, waving him in. “I’ll take care of you.”

He gives so much of himself, always trying to help everyone else in this big, mean, city. You know he forgets to leave a little fuel in the tank for himself. It’s maybe something the two of you have in common.

You watch as he fights a war within himself, teetering on the balls of his feet, undecided between staying or leaving. In the end, he takes a step towards you, then another. You try not to read too much into that. He’s just here because he’s drunk and feeling vulnerable. It doesn’t really have anything to do with you.

You’re not really sure how this will go. Probably he’ll just come sit on your couch with a beer–you still have his favorite in the fridge–and talk a little. Not about what’s actually bothering him. No, heaven forbid. But circular small talk, to get his mind off the bad thing. It’s something you’ve done a thousand times before.

And yet, when you are standing toe to toe, and he has to crane his neck to look down at you–there’s a dark fire in his eyes, and with a little thrill you feel the urge to flee before his big hands engulf the sides of your face, and his mouth is on yours.

Oh. That’s what you’re doing.

You can’t say you forgot what it’s like to kiss Jack Traven–but maybe the intensity of the memory had faded a little, if for anything out of pure self defense. How could a woman keep her sanity, if she remembered how good he was, if she knew she’d never taste him again? You stand on tiptoe to throw your arms around his neck as he devours you, and he easily picks you up with an arm around your waist, walking the two of you back into your apartment and slamming the door shut with his booted heel.

This. This had never been a problem for the two of you. Passion. It was everything else that got in the way. Most of all, his dangerous job, which though it wore on you, you had never complained about. But he’d seen the way you worried about him, the way it absolutely chewed on your nerves when there was a situation on the news and you didn’t know if he would be coming home that night. You’d been willing to weather that storm for him, but the guilt of demanding that of you ate at his conscience.

He’d broken things off with you, in your own hospital, after he’d taken a bullet in the chest and you didn’t leave his side or really even sleep until he came to. I can’t ask you to keep doing this for me. You deserve better.

You’d protested, of course, but he’d made up his mind.

Until now, apparently, where he is walking you backwards towards your bedroom, half carrying you in the ardor of his embrace. You recognize this need for life-affirming intimacy. You’d gotten to know it well, over the years, and you surrender to the storm, letting him take what he needs. Letting him fist the fabric of your cotton nightie in his big hands, drawing it up over your head before falling on you again, pushing your panties down the curves of your bottom and your thighs.

You always marveled that despite his strength and the things he knows how to do with those hands, he never ever hurt you, not even when he was like this, desperate for your softness, frantic to lose himself inside the momentary bliss your body could bring. He barely has the patience to let you pull off his white t-shirt, or to enjoy the swathes of toned flesh beneath. His belt is flung forgotten to the floor from the moment you pull it from its loops and he picks you up by your thighs, walking you the rest of the way to the bed. Boots are kicked away as his mouth is attached to yours, pants and boxers shed with a sharp push.

You might have been embarrassed, by how ready you are for him, how sopping fucking wet you were for him from the moment you saw him, if you could have formed a coherent thought as his thick tip kisses your entrance, before he absolutely plunges himself inside you. The delicious shock of it steals the breath from you, your soul escaping with a moan, only to be reclaimed with his mouth on yours. He takes you like the ocean, relentless and rolling, filling you with every thrust. It’s gratifying, the animalistic sounds of abandon he makes as he fucks you. If you didn’t know any better–you might have swore you were making love, despite his hedonistic frenzy.

The same way you knew something was wrong in the first second of seeing him in the hallway, you know he’s close to finishing already, his breathing frantic in the bend of your neck, his grip just this side of bruising. He seems to remember that he’s done very little to see to your pleasure, amidst the haze of chasing his own gratification. He sits up on trembling elbows, making to reach between you. “Fuck. I’m sorry, baby. You feel so good.” Maybe it’s ridiculous, that it brings tears to your eyes to hear the endearment. You find you don’t even want to cum, as much as you just want to make this haunted man feel better.

“It’s ok,” you pant in answer, catching his hand to place it on your breast. “Cum for me, Jack. I know you need it.”

He buries his face in the bend of your neck; you’re not sure if the sound he makes is a moan or a sob, as he thrusts as deep as he can inside you, bathing your cervix with the hot flood of his seed. He continues to hold on to you as though you are the last sane thing on this earth, and you let him, your legs still wrapped around his narrow hips, your hands smoothing across the muscles of his broad shoulders.

Only much, much later, does it seem to dawn on him what he’s done–and maybe just who he did it with. He draws back to look at you with concern written in those big brown puppy eyes, smoothing your hair away from your face. You can’t help but close your own lids; jesus, how you missed his touch. You feel utterly breakable in that moment, but he’s the one who needs healing right now, so you get your shit together, gather it all back up tight and shove it down in your lockbox of a heart.

Before he can apologize or say something stupid, you pull him down to rest on your breast, the way you’ve done a hundred times before. Surely the muscle memory of it is as comforting for him as the act in the moment itself. “It’s ok, Jack. Just rest. I’ve got you.”

He sags against you, curling that powerful body around yours–and falls asleep.

You were right, of course. Your heart feels exactly like it’s been fed through a grinder, as you hold this beautiful manchild in your arms, your thighs deliciously sticky with his cum. A part of you hopes that he’ll just sneak out in the morning without waking you. It would almost hurt less, than any excuse he’ll have to offer you, when the sun comes streaming through your window.

***

But when next you wake, it’s not to the sun, or the shift of weight on the mattress while a large man tries to slip out without a sound. It’s to wet kisses upon your neck, and an agonizingly gentle touch sliding down your torso, tracing the ladder of your ribcage and the swell of your belly, before making his way up again.

“You know,” he says softly against your cheek, “you really shouldn’t open the door to anyone in the middle of the night.”

You wonder if he can see you rolling your eyes in the dark. But then his lips touch yours, and the urge to argue with him for argument’s sake dissipates into thin air. Instead you opt for honesty, the spell of intimacy not yet broken in the shadows of what must be early early morning.

“I think…I knew it was you.”

He lets out a shuddering sigh, kissing your jaw, then lower.

“Baby…” It feels so good, to hear him say it like that against your skin. You can almost forget it isn’t true anymore. You’re not his baby. You’re not his anything, even though he’s here in your bed, and his big hand is sliding down your belly again, his fingers combing through your curls. “Let me touch you?”

You really should say no.

“You don’t have to.”

He ducks to suck the soft skin of your breast lightly, then kisses it to soothe the burn. That luscious mouth…god it curls your toes. “I want to. I promise you.”

There’s so much you want to ask him. Things like why? And I thought you didn’t love me anymore? You’ve since reasoned that it’s the only way he could truly bear to break things off, the way he did. You certainly hadn’t had the strength to give him up, no matter what the stress of his occupation wreaked on you.

You don’t have the strength to say no. You do manage not to beg, like the needy little thing you are, with his big body curled over yours. You’ve always felt like nothing could touch you, with him by your side. As it turned out the only thing that could hurt you all along, was him.

You nod your assent before catching his mouth, sliding your tongue against his as his thick fingers explore your puffy slit, still wet from both of your juices. He makes a sound in the back of his throat that lifts every hair on your body, a delicious shudder running through your spine. His strong fingers circle your aching clit, just the way he knows drives you wild. Not too hard, not too soft. Fuck, this man has your number still.

You haven’t been with anyone, since the last time you were with him, despite your well-meaning girlfriends dragging you out to bars and trying to get you to forget this man who left your heart shredded like bomb shrapnel. Because deep down, you knew, you just knew this man ruined you, utterly fucking ruined you for anyone else. Who the fuck could compare? Not some asshole hoping for a one night stand down at TJ’s, that was for sure.

You realize you have tears running down your cheeks, you don’t know how it’s possible for it to be so good and hurt so much all at the same time.

Unfortunately when he moves to kiss your cheek, he notices. “Hey, hey,” he says, his hand stilling between your legs, making your hips writhe with frustration. “You ok?”

“No,” you answer honestly, reaching for him. He has you cradled in those big arms, and you can feel his manhood so firm and silky smooth against your hip. You are not ok, without him inside you right now. “Will you make love to me again?”

He pays you a ghost of that usual blinding smile, a thing a woman would sell her soul for, and it just breaks your heart all over again.

He never really answers you with words. The two of you move with pure magnetism, your leg hooking over his hip, pulling him close, inviting him inside. Without a condom, again, you think as he settles between your thighs, sinking inside you so smoothly. Maybe not smart, even though you're on birth control, but it’s the way you’re meant to be together, raw and no barriers between you. As usual, he fucks you and makes love to you all at the same time, looking into your soul while he does it, and it’s the best thing you’ve ever known. This time you cum together, and maybe it’s a little pathetic, the way you cling to each other in the darkness of your bedroom, like you really can stave off the misery of the outside world with this bit of human intimacy, your bodies inextricably entwined.

You fall asleep together, this time with your head on his chest, and as you drift you decide you’ll wake up and make him breakfast, and you won’t ask him any painful questions about what this means or if he wants you back, or if this is just a comfort fuck and you won’t see him again until the weight of the world gets too much–or maybe never, because this man is bound to find someone to settle down with. Someone he can’t bring himself to let go, the way he did you.

So you are so surprised, when you wake up, and you smell eggs and bacon and something sweet cooking. You stumble into the kitchen to find him in his blue plaid boxers, flipping a pancake, singing under his breath to R.E.M. on the radio playing low. He’s so beautiful it hurts, and it’s like your heart is gripped in an unforgiving fist.

He turns to see you in the doorway and offers you a smile. It’s still not quite the usual 100 watt Jack Traven special–he’s not feeling well enough for that. This man hides nothing, he’s so true, he wears it all on his sleeve for you. You love that so much about him, and it hurts like a knife between the ribs.

“Hey.”

“Hungry?”

“Yeah.”

You shouldn’t feel so shy about walking into your own kitchen.

But you aren’t sure where you stand. Do you kiss him, hug him, the way you want to, the way you used to? Or are you operating under one-night-stand-protocol? Play it cool, act like you barely even like the guy? It’s so fucked up, and you never wanted to be in this position again.

Sensing your hesitance, he crosses the floor to you, engulfing the side of your face in his big hand as he kisses you good morning, like nothing ever changed. “Hey,” he says again, his forehead pressed to yours.

“Jack.”

“Yeah, baby.”

You told yourself you weren’t going to ask painful questions. Remember? Remember that? So you just sigh, and close your eyes, and absorb this moment for what it is. “Do you feel better?” you ask. Another important question.

“Yes and no.”

You sigh again through your nose. The corners of his mouth twitch, because he knows you so well, and that one little gesture conveys a novel to him too.

“Thank you,” he says, for last night, and whatever else, you don’t really know.

“Any time.” You mean it, when you say it.

“Yeah?” There is a hint of his usual sparkle in his eyes as he asks this. And a part of you wants to pick a fight, to say I’m not the one who left. But maybe you have grown up a little, because you bite your tongue for now.

“Yeah.” You reach up to touch his hair, the soft spikes of his buzzcut like velvet beneath your fingers. You know he would have beautiful hair if he grew it out. You’d seen his high-school pictures. He had the potential for hair to make a grown woman weep.

Later, with your mouth full of pancake, you ask gently, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He flexes his jaw, looking out the window. He always bottled things up, before. He didn’t want to burden you with the hard things he saw at work. You didn’t want him to carry it alone. Usually you had to pry it out of him, because of course he refused to see the shrink at work.

You realize you are gobsmack surprised when he actually volunteers, “We had a hostage situation. A woman…died. The bank robber shot her. It was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart. It was the criminal’s fault. He brought a gun to a bank with the intention to steal money by any means necessary. You did your best.”

Once upon a time, he would have argued with you on that too. His jaw clenches as he thinks about it, argues with you in his mind, at least.

But this time in the end, he closes his eyes, nods. Reaches for your hand across the table. You take it, holding on to him. Those warm, strong fingers wrapped around yours feel like home, and you try not to start crying because you’ve missed him so much.

“Y/n…?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. For pushing you away.”

Once upon a time, you would have said something inane, like that’s ok. You’ve grown as a person too, and this time, you nod, because he does owe you an apology. “Thanks for that.”

“I know…I don’t deserve it. But maybe…if you’d let me…I could make it up to you?”

You close your eyes at hearing that, light headed. You might have fallen out of your chair, if not for his hand anchoring you.

“I would like that,” you admit, giving yourself points for not sounding too pathetic, and crawling across the table through the breakfast dishes to sit in his lap.

Then, he does flash you the 1000 watt Jack Traven smile, and the circuits in your brain melt.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you big idiot.” You’re really not sure if he pulls you, or if you get up and walk, but you find yourself in his lap with your lips on his, his strong arms wrapped around you and his lips on yours. He rocks you like a child, smiling against your mouth between stealing kisses.

“I love you.”

You feel as though the desert of your heart has suddenly undergone a superbloom, the ferocity of your love making you lightheaded.

“Jack…”

“Yeah?” He really is smiling now, in between kissing you, cute little snatches of sweetness all over your face. With hands on his cheeks you catch his lips, smiling against his mouth after a long smooch.

“I love you too. But if you ever break up with me for any reason other than you don’t love me anymore, I might maim you.”

This wins you that radiant smile that curls your toes again. “So much for the Florence Nightingale oath.”

“Leave her out of it, this is between you and me.” He chuckles, and squeezes you again in his big arms.

“Alright. Consider me warned.”

“Good.”

His big hand runs up your thigh, that dark sparkle in his eyes that never fails to take your breath away. “I feel like I should start that making up I have to do here.” Suddenly you find yourself seated on your kitchen table, Jack smiling up at you from between your legs. He reaches for the syrup, and you can’t help but throw your head back with laughter, certain he’s teasing you. “You are going to make such a mess!”

“Honey, you’re the one going to be making the mess.” He has the nerve to smirk up at you before stealing your panties, and smearing syrup up your thighs.

#jack traven #jack traven x you #jack traven x y/n #jack traven x reader #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #speed #keanuverse #speed 1994

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daddy-dins-girl · 1 year

Text

Playdate

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

Chapter Two | Chapter Three

AO3 link

Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 7.8k

Summary: You love Marcus with all your heart and you’re not dissatisfied with him or his efforts in the bedroom, but you always hoped to have a little bit more variety . Though you were initially shocked that he had suggested something like this to begin with, you still jumped at the chance to broaden both your horizons.

Turns out, Dave York was exactly what you both needed.

Notes: One day I'll stop being so unhinged about Dave York, but today is not that day. Enjoy some Suburban Murder Daddy Dave and everyone's favorite Cozy Boyfriend Marcus!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Ok, here we go (takes deep breath). F/M/M Threesome. Cuckolding. Voyeurism. Masturbation. Mutual Masturbation. Oral Sex (f an m receiving). Brief (and very light) Anal Play. (Unprotected) P in V sex. Creampie. Breathplay. Degradation Kink. Daddy Kink. Praise Kink. Cockwarming. Spitting (is it even a Dave York fic if he's not spitting in your mouth? Come on). Light spanking (like 2 slaps to your ass). Squirting. Light dom/sub. Dom Dave York. (Occasionally but rarely) Soft Dave York. As always Dave York is his own warning and I cannot stress this enough.

The moment Dave York strolled into your shared bedroom with Marcus, the entire energy of the room had changed, you could feel it. Both you and Marcus, who stood nervously at your side.

“Dave, this is my wife,” Marcus begins, introducing you by name and Dave unabashedly gives you a good long look up and down until his gaze finally settles on your face again. Your cheeks are burning. You can feel them, the heat rising up your neck as you stand there in just a little matching set of a silk cream coloured nighty and panties (Marcus’ favorite) in front of this total stranger to you. Marcus knew him, of course, their government departments had recently been working together for a few months and they’d even gone out for the occasional beer after work.

That’s really where this whole thing had started. Marcus had had one too many one night out with Dave and when he’d watched the way women just seemed to gravitate to him, the way Dave handled it all seamlessly had Marcus mesmerized. A waitress would flirt with Dave and he’d just reach up and grab a handful of their ass and before you knew it they’d be sitting in his lap fiddling with his tie or pulling at his collar while Dave sat mostly uninterested by this point, sipping on his beer and continuing to have a mundane conversation with Marcus as if a twenty-something year old bombshell wasn’t currently in his lap begging for his attention. He wasn’t even nice to them, which was the crazy part. It was all cocky attitude and degrading talk and maybe it was the way Dave carried himself or the way he looked, but these women ate it up and Marcus could barely believe his eyes or his ears. If he ever spoke to a woman like that, not only would his mother turn over in her grave, but he’d surely earn a hard slap across his face for his efforts.

And so that’s when it started. Marcus slowly began opening up to Dave about you. About how he worried sometimes that you weren’t as satisfied with him as you could be. You promised him that wasn’t true, but still, every once and a while you’d try new things with him in bed and he just never felt like he was doing it right. And most times when you did try something new you wouldn’t ask to do it again, which made his insecurity soar even higher that he hadn’t really done what you wanted well the first time you asked.

“So, what does she like then?” Dave asks casually before snapping his fingers at a waitress across the room and signaling to the table for another round.

“Um, what?”

“Your wife, Pike. What, she wants you to slap her around? Fuck her in the ass? Fuck you in the ass, what?” He says it so casually and Marcus has to cover his mouth as he nearly spits his beer across the table at the candidness.

“Jesus York!”

“What?” Dave scoffs. “If you can’t even talk about it with me, how do you expect to do it to her?” He reasoned and Marcus sighed. He did have a point.

“She um, I don’t know, different stuff I guess. Like last time she uh… she put my hand on her throat” Marcus shrugged, a little embarrassed.

“Nice” Dave simply nodded, taking another sip from his beer.

“Nice?!” Marcus’s eyes shot up. “It wasn’t nice, I was so terrified of hurting her the whole time I-” he stopped abruptly and Dave raised one eyebrow.

“You… what?”

“I, you know…” Marcus, looked around the room, anywhere but into Dave’s eyes. “I got um… uninspired” Marcus admitted.

“Christ” Dave rubbed a hand over his face. “Can’t even keep your dick hard fucking your own wife? Should’ve come to me sooner”

“Hey, will you keep it down!” Marcus practically hissed across the table, looking around frantically to ensure nobody was really paying attention to them.

“Let me see her”

“What?” Marcus’s brow raised slightly.

“Let me see her. C’mon you probably have like 1500 pictures of her in your camera roll making the exact same fucking kissy face at you, let me see her” Dave said, holding his hand out for Marcus’s phone.

Marcus rolled his eyes but did as asked, opening up his camera roll to a more recent photo of you that he had taken and passed his phone across the table. Dave let out an appreciative low whistle.

“Damn Pike, I didn’t know you had it in ya. She’s a smokeshow” Dave teased and Marcus quickly snatched the phone back as he saw Dave beginning scrolling through his photos app.

“So… what do I do?” Marcus asked and normally Dave couldn’t give a fuck about anyone but himself but he did feel bad for the guy and not to mention his wife was fucking gorgeous and he wouldn’t mind showing Marcus exactly what to do with you.

“Talk to your wife. See if she’s interested in an interested third party”

“Wait, like you’d… with her?” Marcus stuttered and Dave briefly wondered if Marcus’s eyebrows would get stuck like that if they raised any higher to his hairline

“If you want.” Dave simply shrugged. “You’d be there. You know, the ol’ watch and learn” Dave finished, tossing a wink and Marcus swallowed the hard lump in his throat before chugging the rest of his beer.

That was just two weeks ago, and now here you all are.

“Hey baby, wear this just for me?” Dave said in way of greeting as he sauntered right up to you and took the hem of your thigh-length nighty between the pads of his fingers.

“It’s Marcus’ favorite” you explain with a shy smile.

“Oh, well in that case, take it off” Dave orders, his hand immediately leaving you. Your eyes open wide at his boldness and your gaze darts over quickly to Marcus who’s simply standing by the door with his hands in his pockets just watching the exchange. When your eyes flit back to Dave he’s staring at you with a look on his face that can only be interpreted as ‘don’t make me ask again’.

Despite yourself you already feel a heat stirring low in your belly. You're nervous and yet turned on. Marcus had shown you a picture of Dave so although you did have an idea of what he looked like, his government ID headshot did nothing to prepare you for how handsome he actually was in real life standing right in front of you. His features were sharp; a strong hawk-like nose, a jaw that could cut glass and his eyes were hard but with a glimmer of the softness Marcus’ eyes held in them. They were the same chocolate brown, Dave’s just a little darker and you already found yourself getting lost in them as you stare right into them while you tug your nighty up and over your head, tossing it to a corner of the room.

“Good girl” Dave praises and brings the back of his hand up to let his knuckles drag a line down your front from sternum to belly button with a light ghosting touch that leaves goosebumps in its wake. The shudder that momentarily racks your body doesn’t go unnoticed by either of the men in the room. Dave simply smirks.

“Sit down on the bed, Sweetheart” he tells you next and you quickly obey, sitting down at the end of the bed and Dave takes the few steps to meet you there, towering over you.

“Such a well behaved little slut you have yourself here Pike” Dave tosses over his shoulder at Marcus and you quickly glance over, unsure of how Dave’s remarks will be received but Marcus stays planted in the corner of the room, only this time it doesn’t escape your notice how he quickly reaches down to adjust himself in his pants before stuffing his hand back into his pocket and you feel your shoulders relax instantly, knowing Marcus is enjoying this too. The heat floods back into your abdomen as your nerves settle slightly. Or, as much as they can with the ever intimidating Dave York looming over you.

“Open your mouth” Dave says next, grabbing your face with one hand, his thumb and forefinger holding tight just under the apples of your cheeks. You don’t speak, just slowly open your mouth to him only slightly.

“Wider”

You obey.

“Good girl” he praises again before he tilts his face down and spits right into your mouth. It surprises you and your eyes squeeze shut at the shock of it all but you otherwise don't’ move, waiting for his next instructions. His grip loosens on your jaw and he brushes a knuckle up at the underside of your chin, signaling you to close your mouth and you do.

“Now swallow” he tells you and the gulp that follows from you feels like it's somehow bounced off every wall of the room that’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Dave rewards you with a smile.

“She’s so easy Pike, I don’t know what you were scared of” Dave mentions off-handedly, not even bothering to look at Marcus because he can’t seem to take his eyes off yours.

“Sit in the chair”

Confusion crosses your features but you go to stand up before you feel Dave’s warm hand on your shoulder pushing you back down. “Not you”

Oh.

Marcus is as obedient as you are when it comes to Dave it seems, taking the few strides over to the armchair sitting by the window where you like to curl up and read and he sits down immediately, both hands gripping at the arms of the chairs like he needs to hang on for dear life.

Maybe he does.

“You like that? Taking what I give you to swallow?” Dave’s attention is back on you now, hand resuming its grip on your jaw and you can do little more than nod your head.

“Use your words, little mouse”

“I like it” you confess, maybe a little too eagerly and Dave huffs a laugh.

“Yeah, you like having that little fucking mouth full I bet” Dave states as his free hand starts tugging his belt open and opening his dress slacks, pushing them down to his thighs. You stare, wide eyed as your gaze lands on the very impressive bulge straining against black cotton boxer briefs.

No wonder Dave York was so cocky, you muse inwardly.

“Go on, take my cock out” Dave orders and you bring your bottom lip between your teeth and quickly chance a glance over to Marcus.

“Hey, eyes on me” Dave growls as he tightens his hold on your jaw and yanks you back to face him. A little drool dribbles from your mouth the way Dave is holding it open and he quickly swipes at it with his thumb and pushes it inside your mouth and without having to be told you suck it clean.

“Fast learner” Dave hums with a shit eating grin that you suddenly feel the urge to kiss off of him.

“It’s ok baby” you hear Marcus’ voice from across the room. He sounds a little off. His voice is slightly trembling and his breathing is quickened and you know straight away that he’s turned on. You’re glad. You were half afraid that at the first vulgar insult that left Dave’s mouth that Marcus would be throwing him out the door. You were also worried at the back of your mind that Marcus would be wondering what the hell was wrong with you to be turned on by such behaviors but apparently he was starting to see your side of it and it pleased you to no end.

Your shoulders settle again as Dave’s grip leaves your jaw and you slowly reach forward with both hands and tug down his boxers and carefully take his cock and balls out. He’s rock hard in your grasp as your fingers lightly run down the impressive length. Marcus may be a bit longer but Dave is so much thicker you don’t even think you could get your whole hand around it if you tried. You won’t try yet because Dave hasn’t told you to so you simply wait for his next instructions.

“Yeah, that’s my good girl” Dave praises again, his hands now brushing softly through your hair and gathering it up so he can hold it back with one hand.

“Pike, get over here” Dave says and Marcus eases out of the chair and wanders over to you, nervous even on his own legs like a baby deer taking its first steps.

“Spit in my little sluts mouth. Don’t worry, she likes it” he winks at you.

Marcus stops at your side and your heart is beating wildly in your chest. You’re sitting there half naked with two hands idly wrapped around Dave’s cock with his holding your hair back while your husband stands next to you. Marcus eases your nerves though, of course he does, by leaning down and kissing you softly. Your mouth opens to him and you both let out a little moan when your tongues meet and for a brief second it's like nothing else exists in the room but the two of you and surprisingly, Dave allows it. Marcus kisses you until he feels you relax, your heartbeat starting to slow again and then he pulls back just slightly. You stick your tongue out and open your mouth wide for him. Marcus takes a breath and then gently, unlike Dave, spits into your mouth.

“Don’t swallow this time” Dave warns immediately. Marcus takes this as his queue to leave and returns to his chair and your head turns back to look at Dave. Your mouth is still open and tongue sticking out with a glob of Marcus’ saliva waiting on it.

“You’re so good” Dave smiles, bringing his free hand up so his thumb can run along your cheek. “Now don’t let that go to waste” is all the warning you get before Dave’s hand is at the back of your head and pushing you forward until his cock disappears down your throat. The mixture of your and Marcus’ saliva along with the precum already leaking from Dave’s head has you sliding down his length easily, the lewd sounds of your sucking him off filling the room.

“That’s it, fuck” Dave swears, hand gripping your hair a little tighter as he holds your head still and thrusts his hips over and over, fucking into your throat. “Knew you’d love having that little mouth filled up” he laughs before forcing himself in deeper and then holding.

Your face is buried in Dave’s crotch as he holds you still, his dick so far down your throat that there’s tears starting to fall down your cheeks as you choke and gag on him until he finally releases you and you ease off for a few seconds to catch your breath, making sure you continue pumping him with your hand as you do.

“You can do better than that, Sweetheart” Dave tsks. “Come on, suck it like you mean it”

You gladly rise to the challenge, taking him into your mouth again and your head bobs up and down, swallowing down as much of him as you can and your hand making up for whatever your mouth can’t reach. Dave lets out a soft moan from above you and all your focus is concentrated on making him feel good, but your ears do pick up the distinct clinking sound of metal and your eyes shift to your peripheral where you see Marcus opening his belt and scrambling to get his own hand inside his pants. It ignites something in you and you double your efforts with Dave, moaning around his cock as you move your hand down to cup his balls and swallow him harder and take him deeper down your throat until you're choking on his cock again and your eyes are watering.

“Fuck Pike, I didn’t know you married a goddamn whore, Jesus Christ” Dave groans, his breath coming out in short pants. “Taking my cock like a pro”

“Good girl. Mmmm. Good fucking girl” Dave is practically growling at you as you look up at him with tear stained cheeks. His grip in your hair is tight and it only spurs you on to keep going, despite how raw your throat feels. You hollow your cheeks and continue to take as much of him in as you can.

“Oh fuck.”

Its a tiny whisper from across the room, and despite the debauched sounds of your sucking and slurping around Dave’s cock your ears still pick up Marcus’ little whimper.

Your throat needs a breather and so you pull off of Dave but ensure to keep pleasuring him with your hand instead, working him all the way up to the head and back to the base while your other hand continues playing with his balls. You feel them tightening up in your hand and he hisses through his teeth, tossing his head back.

“Fuck, enough, enough” Dave warns, hand coming up to grab yours around his shaft and stilling your movements.

“I’m not near done with you Sweetheart, if you make me cum I’m going to be very upset” he threatens and you simply swallow and nod your head.

“Take off your panties then undress me” he instructs next and you comply, slowly dragging your panties down your legs. You’re about to kick them off to the floor when something else comes to mind and you smirk as you reach for them dangling at your feet and toss them over to Marcus instead. You know they’re soaked and you want him to know it too.

“Fuck baby” You hear Marcus groan and you chance a glance over to him. His cock is fully out in his hand now and to your surprise he takes your wet panties and wraps it around his dick and continues stroking, eyes closing and head falling back in pleasure. Dave looks over to Marcus too and doesn’t seem to mind what he sees, just lets out a little chuckle over how wrecked Marcus is already. You honestly can’t believe that Marcus is freely jerking off right in front of Dave. He normally gets embarrassed even if you accidentally catch him doing it.

“Might be hope for your husband yet” Dave teases, bringing his gaze back to you and tossing you a wink.

You smile brightly, this is exactly what you wanted. You love Marcus with all your heart and you’re not dissatisfied with him or his efforts in the bedroom, but you always hoped to have a little bit more variety . Though you were initially shocked that he had suggested something like this to begin with, you still jumped at the chance to broaden both your horizons.

Turns out, Dave York was exactly what you both needed.

“Fuck” Dave snaps you out of your reverie as he hisses through his teeth and squeezes the base of his cock. His tip is steadily leaking precum, the head looking angry and purple, staving off its impending release. He’s close. Apparently closer than he’d like to be.

“Need to pace myself, this is going to be a marathon, not a sprint” he explains and your eyebrow raises at that, not sure what all exactly Dave has in store for the three of you tonight.

You undress him as he asked, wasting no time at all or bothering to put any flourish on it, you just want him naked with you as quickly as possible, already anticipating what’s to come.

“Come on,” he says, gesturing his head towards the bed. He walks over to the head of the bed and gets in, sitting up with his back straight against the headboard and motions for you to come to him. You get on all fours and crawl up the bed to him and he pulls you into his lap so you’re kneeled with your legs on either side of his, straddling him and to your delighted surprise, he pulls you forward and kisses you.

It’s exploratory at first as your mouth opens to him and his tongue tastes yours for the first time. You moan when you feel the wet muscle tangle with yours and your hands instinctively come up to tug on Dave’s hair, keeping him impossibly close as his kisses get progressively rougher and deeper the longer they go on. He feels so different from Marcus. Dave is clean shaven whereas Marcus has always had a short-trimmed beard since the day you met him. You liked the scratchy feel of when he’d nuzzle at your neck or especially when he’s between your thighs but kissing Dave is like a whole new experience. Your hands leave his hair to hold his smooth face instead and you try to imagine what Marcus would look like without facial hair but you think you prefer him the way he is.

Your husband is hot. But then, Dave wasn’t so bad himself.

You’re kissing for at least several minutes. You’re not sure, you’ve lost track of time and apparently control as you whimper and whine and moan into Dave’s mouth and grind into his lap. At some point his hand makes its way between your legs, fingers gliding through your slick folds and playing with the tiny little bundle of nerves, pinching it between the pads of his fingers and the noises you are making should have you embarrassed but you’re way past that with Dave now. You reach down to him as well, wrapping as much of your hand around him as you can and lazily stroking his length. Dave hums against your lips and then rewards you by shoving two fingers into your wet heat.

A little high pitched squeak escapes you and you jolt slightly in Dave’s lap when his other hand lands on your ass in a smack before he grabs and kneads the soft flesh roughly and suddenly you’re moaning into his mouth again. He continues palming and kneading at the globe of your ass cheek until his hand wanders slightly and your hips jolt again when you feel a single digit pressing up against the tight ring of muscle at your back entrance.

“Our boy ever take care of you back here Sweetheart?” He asks between kisses, slightly prodding at your virgin hole but not quite pushing inside and causing a not unpleasant little wave of pressure to build up in you.

“Mnmm mmm” you shake your head. “I’ve um, yeah, never, before…” you trail off and Dave chuckles.

“Figures” he scoffs. “Well that’ll be a lesson for another day Sweetheart, want you good and ready for that one” he explains and a new flood of arousal comes over you with the subtle promise of a next time. You continue kissing and fondling each other a few more moments longer until he suddenly tears his mouth away from you.

“Look at your husband now Sweetheart” Dave whispers into your ear and you turn your head back to Marcus. His eyes are squeezed shut and he’s huffing short little breaths as he pumps his cock at a brutal pace.

“Think he wants your tight little ass filled up by my fat cock, hm?” Dave continues muttering absolute filth against your ear, knowing full well Marcus can hear him and then seconds later Marcus gasps and is spilling into his own hand, sputtering out a moan from deep in his throat as he milks himself dry. You hear Dave chuckling as his hands leave you and come up to rest on your hips.

“I think we put on a good little show” he emphasizes his point by slapping your ass again and then grabbing a handful of each cheek in both his hands and squeezing before he forces your hips down to grind against his lap once and you choke out a gasp as the head of his cock slides through your soaked core.

“Pike!” Dave suddenly calls, snapping Marcus out of his post-orgasm daze and his eyes shoot open. “Not much of a gentleman, cumming before your wife” he tuts.

“I’m sorry Honey” Marcus pants, still breathless and shyly tucking himself back into his underwear.

“It’s ok Baby, it was hot” you’re sure to tell him. Marcus blushes furiously, looking away from you both as he works on doing his pants back up.

“Come here Sweetheart” Dave begins, turning you in his grasp until you’re facing away from him and then he hunches forward to rest his chin on your shoulder so he can speak into your ear but keep his gaze trained on Marcus.

“Now, you’re gonna sit on my cock and keep it warm for me while your husband makes up for what he’s done” Dave explains, ensuring to speak loud enough for Marcus to hear. “C’mon, up” he begins again, landing a light smack to your hip and you obey, lifting your hips and Dave wraps an arm around you to steady you while his free hand holds his cock still and he lowers you down onto it.

“Ohhhhh fuuuccck” you gasp softly as you sink down on his length. You were more than prepared to take him, thanks to Dave’s fingers working you open earlier but there’s still a considerable stretch around his girth that is bordering between pleasure and pain as his cock splits you wide open.

You’re sitting on his lap with your legs stretched out and lying on top of his, like two bodies simply stacked on top of one another, your legs spread out in a v-shape in front of you. The position is certainly new to you and you’re not exactly sure how it’s supposed to work, how he can fuck into you in this position.

“That’s it” Dave hums against your ear before gently nipping at the lobe and then soothing over it with his tongue. You grind down onto his cock. You can’t help it but you need him to move, you need something, but just as quickly as you begin you feel both his hands grip roughly onto your hips, hard enough to surely leave bruises.

“Don’t move” he growls and then nips harshly at your earlobe, causing you to hiss out in pain for a brief second which quickly turns into a moan when he sucks the lobe gently into his mouth immediately afterwards. “I told you what happens if you make me cum before I want to” he vaguely threatens and you nod your head obediently.

“I’m sorry” you squeak. “It won’t happen again D-Daddy”

You don’t mean for it to slip out, but it does. Another little fantasy of yours, but one that you’d never shared with Marcus nor had the urge to. Marcus was too soft, too sweet. But Dave was rough and mean checked every box when it came to this particular kink of yours.

“Jesus Christ Sweetheart” Dave groans suddenly, he’s back behind you and his forehead comes down to rest in the middle of your back and you feel his cock twitch inside you.

Apparently Dave likes that. You smirk, finally having the upper hand for once.

“You wanna be my good little girl, huh?” Dave finally speaks again after regaining his composure. His voice is rough again and you love it, offering a little nod of your head.

“Say it” he growls, hand coming up to squeeze gently around your throat.

“Wanna be so good for you Daddy” you whine, your eyes flitting across the room to meet with Marcus’ who’s watching intently.

“That’s it” his hand loosens its grip on your throat and caresses over it instead and your head lolls back onto his shoulder.

“You never heard of cockwarming Sweetheart?” he asks and you shake your head again and it earns a little chuckle from Dave. “Well it’s just what it sounds like, baby. You’re gonna sit here and be a nice warm little sleeve for my dick. No fucking, yet. Do you understand?”

You nod weakly. God you just want to move, the pressure is agonizing and you're closing your eyes and breathing through your nose, trying your hardest not to squirm.

“Now you’re gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock” he informs you and you’re a little confused at how he expects you to just cum on command if he won’t let either of you move.

“Pike” he snaps and that gets your attention, your eyes shooting open again. Marcus scrambles to his feet, the authority in Dave’s voice leaving little room for him to do anything else apparently.

“Yes?” Marcus asks, voice trembling slightly as he now stands next to the bed, nervously curling his hands into fists at his sides.

Dave seems completely comfortable naked in his own skin in front of your husband and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a total turn on. Of course most of his body was covered by yours, but still, Marcus definitely had a superb view of Dave’s cock buried to the hilt inside your cunt.

“I bet you our good ol’ boy Marcus here is just great at eating your little pussy, isn’t he Sweetheart?” Dave murmurs against the side of your face and you feel that familiar heat rising in your cheeks again as you nod your head.

Marcus was in fact exceptionally skilled in that particular area, and more than happy to do it for you. You’d never been with anybody before who actually loved going down on you. Most guys before Marcus treated it like a chore whereas Marcus thrived on it. He’d stay buried in your cunt for hours if you’d let him. He’d joke sometimes while he was down there, face buried between your thighs that he could live there and you didn’t doubt he would if he could.

It's not until you see Marcus nervously shift in front of you that you realize you hadn’t actually answered Dave out loud.

“Yes!” you reply enthusiastically. “He’s um, very good to me” a little of your shyness returns and Dave tuts from behind you.

“I figured. Looks like a little puppy, just eager to please isn’t he?” Dave chuckles and now it’s Marcus’ face that burns bright crimson.

“Go on then, lick your wife's pussy. Need her to cum good and hard before I fuck her into next Tuesday” Dave says menacingly and a shiver runs down your spine.

Marcus goes to climb on the bed before Dave clicks his tongue and stops him, Marcus freezing in place with one knee on the bed.

“He normally all dressed up when eats you out baby?” Dave asks and you slowly shake your head. It was true, Marcus had an amazing body and was never shy about showing it around you. He preferred both of you to be completely naked whenever you did anything in bed together, including sleeping. Marcus was a very intimate and sensual lover, it was one of the things that made you fall for him in the first place.

“Well, tell him then” Dave nods his head towards Marcus.

“Come here baby,” you say softly and Marcus slowly slides his leg back off the bed and takes a few steps closer until he’s standing next to you and you tug him down by his tie to kiss him once.

“For me baby, please?” You plead up at him and he gently nods his head before he steps back from the bed and begins removing his clothes.

Dave seems to lose interest in the sweet little exchange between the two of you and begins kissing and sucking down the side of your throat while his hands roam your body and come up to squeeze both your tits. You try to keep your eyes on Marcus but all they want to do is close and succumb to the pleasure that Dave is giving you now.

“Ready?” Marcus asks and you focus your attention back on him. He’s fully undressed now, cock soft and hanging delicately between his legs but you know it won’t be long until he gets his second wind. Putting his mouth between your legs is always a surefire way to get him going again in no time, you know this well from experience.

“Please Marcus” you whine. Your cunt is throbbing from being impaled on Dave’s cock and not being able to move and now with Dave making you feel good everywhere else you’re desperate for the attention where it’s needed most.

“I’ve got you Honey” he promises, and you know he does.

He crawls onto the bed again, the mattress dipping under his weight and Dave wordlessly spreads his own legs further apart, forcing yours with them to open up wider for Marcus to fit in between you.

Marcus looks a little unsure of how to begin. Normally he likes to wrap his hands up under your thighs to hold your hips down and bury his face in you but with you sitting on top of Dave that would mean touching the other man and so he hesitates.

“We’re well past shy now Pike, come on” Dave chuckles. “Make her cum on my cock like the good little slut she is” he snides and your cunt clenches at his vulgar remarks.

“Ohhh, she likes that” Dave laughs from behind you. “You better hurry up Pike or she might not even need your mouth, I think mine’s doing just fine”

Apparently that was all the threatening that Marcus needed because suddenly he dives into your pussy like a man starved. His one hand rests on your hip while the other uses his fingers to spread your lips apart and you all but scream when Marcus' mouth latches on to your clit and sucks it into his mouth.

“Oh shit!” you jerk forward involuntarily and then instantly feel Dave’s bruising grip on your waist again, keeping you still.

“Don’t fucking move or I’ll tell him to stop” Dave growls into your ear and you whimper but weakly nod your head in agreement. Your hand comes down to play in Marcus’ hair instead, needing the distraction. You’re clutching the short strands and holding him as close to you as possible since you’re not allowed to chase the pressure of his mouth with your own body and he hums in appreciation as he continues his assault with a skilled, well-practiced tongue.

“Fuck Pike, she is flooding my cock right now” Dave groans and Marcus moans into your cunt as he continues lapping away at you with renewed enthusiasm that he’s bringing you so much pleasure.

Dave’s not lying. You’re absolutely drenching his cock. You feel so full with Dave’s dick buried inside you and with Marcus’ mouth working its magic everywhere else, you are left positively reeling. Your head falls back again and you can do little more than whimper and whine and mewl in Dave’s firm grasp.

“Oh fuck, Oh Marcus, baby” you whine, your whole body trembling and it spurs Marcus on, his tongue working you over even faster, firmer as his his hands start to explore. He moves them to the outside of your thighs and then pushes even further back until they reach Dave’s hips and he squeezes, surprising all three of you as Dave’s cock jolts inside of you briefly and then he stills again.

“Come here” Dave growls, one hand leaving your waist to turn your face towards him and he swallows your moans with his mouth, his other hand wrapping all the way across your waist to keep you still. You're not sure who needs the distraction more, you or Dave, but you keep sloppily kissing each other regardless. Dave’s hips raise just slightly, bringing yours with him and you realize suddenly that Marcus has his hands shoved all the way underneath you both, his large hands squeezing Dave’s ass while his mouth is still buried in your wet heat and now it’s you swallowing down Dave’s moans.

“Baby, I love you so much” you hear Marcus whimper from below you. He’s grinding his hips into the mattress now and you know he’s hard again.

Dave’s hand leaves your face and comes to grip around your throat and your mouth is forced away from his as you fight to keep air in your lungs. His grip is tight but not crushing, like he knows exactly what he’s doing and how much pressure to apply. You assume Marcus likely told him of your little attempt at a foray into this area before that hadn’t worked out the way you hoped.

You know you can still breathe (albeit barely) but all the blood rushes to your head and you almost feel like you could pass out until he releases some pressure again and a blissed out smile stretches across your features as you gasp for breath and another wave of pleasure hits you.

“Good fucking girl, you like that huh?” Dave growls against your kiss-swollen lips before he shoves his tongue back inside to kiss you roughly.

“Oh fuck!” Your mouth tears away from Dave’s as Marcus hits a particular spot on your clit and suddenly something hits you hard and fast and you lurch forward.

Marcus’ hands are back on your legs and then he moves one to spread your lips open again and starts flicking his tongue back and forth hard and fast, his gaze penetrating through yours and suddenly your vision goes white behind your eyes.

“Oh shit, Marcus I think I - oh fuck stop, please, I’m gonna-” you don’t have a chance to finish your thought and suddenly your mouth wrenches open in a silent scream as a flood gate opens, your walls clamp down on Dave like a vice and Marcus is groaning into you, lapping at you with renewed enthusiasm and before you even have half a chance to comprehend what is happening, you feel both of Dave’s arms wrap around your middle as he too lurches forward and his cock begins pulsing, spilling inside of you and he lets out a wrecked moan from behind you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuccck” he pants, head coming down to rest on your shoulder as his dick continues throbbing inside of you and painting your walls with his hot spend.

“Baby” Marcus moans into your aching core. “You just fucking squirted” he says before pulling back slightly with a huge grin on his face, the evidence of your earth shattering orgasm dripping down his chin.

“I - what?” It makes sense now, the wave that came over you. You honestly thought you were about to pee in Marcus’ mouth, you’d never felt anything like it before. You always thought that was just some trick done in pornos, never having experienced it yourself before.

Dave lifts you off his cock with a grunt and puts you back to rest in his lap and suddenly Marcus’ mouth is on you again, lapping up yours and Dave’s combined releases from your fluttering hole and Dave is oddly quiet behind you, his head resting against yours and his breathing still coming out in short little huffs as he tries to desperately to slow his racing heart. His spent (and drenched, thanks to you) dick lies just underneath your sex and you don’t fail to notice how every once and a while when Marcus laps at you that his tongue dips a little lower to stroke along Dave’s softening cock. You also don’t miss how Dave’s body jerks a little when it happens and his arms squeeze you a little tighter but he makes no effort to stop or scold Marcus.

“Christ, I told you not to make me cum” Dave says, shaking his head gently against yours but there’s no edge to his voice, he’s far from mad about it.

“I’m sorry Daddy, I didn’t know I could do that” you admit sheepishly, turning your face to him to press a kiss to his lips.

Marcus thankfully slows his efforts between your legs and switches to planting open mouth kisses on the insides of your thighs instead, avoiding your oversensitive sex. His hands are back up on top of your hips now and yours come down to intertwine your fingers with his while continuing to lick and moan into Dave’s mouth.

“I’m sorry Sweetheart, I’m going to need a breather” Dave says after a few more moments pass, pushing back from your mouth. “Pike, keep this pussy occupied for me, I’ll be back for it” he announces before his hand comes down to cup your mound and squeeze.

Dave is lifting you again slightly so he can slide out from under you and Marcus is kneeled at the end of the bed now sitting back on his heels obediently awaiting his next instructions.

“You got a couple more in you, right Sweetheart?” Dave asks as he stands next to the bed now and grips your chin in his hand.

“Mmmmhmm” you nod your head. “Yes”

“Good girl” he smirks. “Now fuck your husband. I’m going to get some water and then I’ll be back and ready for you again” he tells you and then simply saunters out of the room fully nude and not a care in the world. You watch him go and out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus’ head turn too and suddenly you need him more than ever.

“Come here baby” you coo, reaching for Marcus and he turns back to you, takes your hand and lets you pull him to you. He kisses you sweetly, night-and-day to the way Dave did and you hum appreciatively into his mouth as you taste the heady and salty blend of yours and Dave’s combined releases on his tongue. As much as Dave turned you on with his aggressive side there was something in Marcus’ softness that you absolutely craved still.

“Make love to me baby, please” you whisper against his lips and you feel Marcus nod his head.

“Lie down” he instructs and you do, shuffling further down the bed until your back is no longer upright. Marcus leans over you to kiss you languidly for a few more long moments until he finally pulls back and takes his aching hard length in his hand and gives himself a few strokes.

“Ready?” he asks, always checking in, your sweet Marcus.

“Ready” you nod and then he lifts your left leg straight up into the air until your toes are pointed at the ceiling and he pushes himself inside of you, your heat easily swallowing him in with how wet you still were from earlier. The angle he’s at makes him hit impossibly deep inside you and you’re already squirming, needing him to move.

“Holy shit” Marcus looks like his eyes are about to bulge out of his head and he takes a moment to still inside of you once he’s buried to the hilt. “Fuck you’re soaked baby, Jesus. Fuck!”

“You did that to me baby” you praise him with an easy smile as you bring a hand up to push through his golden brown locks. To be fair, you assume it's some kind of combination of your cunt being full of Dave’s cock and Marcus’ skilled tongue stimulating your clit but either way, Marcus got you there.

He wraps one arm around your raised leg to keep himself steady and the other comes down to grip at your hip and he slowly eases himself nearly all the way out and then just as slowly back inside.

“Ohhhhhhh” you whimper at the sensation of his tip bumping against your cervix. “Fuck baby that’s so good. You’re so deep in me”

“Yeah?” Marcus breathes, still taking his time, slowly pushing forward and back with his hips. “God you feel so good honey”

“You want it slow?” He asks and you nod your head frantically.

“Yeah baby, just like that, feels so good, you filling me up”

“Oh fuck” Marcus moans, sliding in and out of your wet heat. Thank God you wanted it slow because he knows he’d be moments away from cumming way too quickly otherwise. He’s not sure he’s ever been so worked up in his lifetime.

He continues to ease in and out of you, slowly picking up pace as you both pant and whimper and moan. Your eyes are locked on to each other, the love pouring out between you with a simple gaze and you’re both so in the moment that neither of you hear Dave come back into the room.

He’s leaning on the door frame, drinking his water and just watching, not interrupting. Marcus’ slim little hips rock back and forth into you and you take every inch of him so well and it's not long before Dave’s own cock begins to swell again between his legs. He reaches down to palm his dick, gently squeezing and stroking as he watches the intimate scene playing out before him.

Marcus is whispering little words of love and adoration for you and your hand comes down on top of his and you interlock your fingers together, giving his hand a little squeeze.

Normally this would bore him. Vanilla bores Dave but yet, watching what transpires between the two of you actually leaves him feeling a little jealous. He hasn’t had somebody he cares for like you two do each other since… well, ever, maybe. Even his ex-wife, it was just as much to keep up appearances as anything else. He’s never looked at anybody the way Marcus looks at you, that much he’s sure of. His hand slows on his cock, suddenly feeling like he’s intruding and he quietly gathers up his clothes and backs out of the room, neither of you even noticing him while he successfully slinks out.

He redresses in the hallway bathroom and heads down to the front door to take his leave but stops to type a quick text into his phone first.

Pike, you’re one lucky man. And that wife of yours loves you, you don’t ever have to worry about that. But if either of you ever feel the need for my services again, you have my number. - York.

An hour later when you and Marcus both lay spent and satisfied and idly wondering where your third partner went, he reaches down to the floor to his discarded pants and fishes his phone out of the pocket and brings it up to read the missed text. He chuckles a little at it and then turns the screen to you and you snuggle up closer to read it and you smile before pressing a kiss into Marcus’ shoulder.

Less than a month passes before Marcus texts Dave back an eager reply, starting up a group text conversation between the three of you, aptly naming the convo “Three’s Not Always a Crowd”.

“So… next playdate, when? 😉”

Next chapter

*clears throat* ahem. so... there you have it folks. Want more of this tasty trio? Lmk!

Tagging @nerdieforpedro, @chronically-ghosted @macabremads @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @suzdin

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #marcus pike fanfiction #dave york x reader #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #the equalizer 2 #the mentalist

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