Dave York X Reader - Tumblr Posts

rare

summary: dave just wants to help you with those awful cramps.

rating: E [oh my god this is PURE E; there is no back story; PERIOD SEX, so that means BLOOD, PIV, oral fem receiving, so many bodily fluids, squirting cause y’all know me, somnophilia, he’s only a little mean; he does ignore you saying stop at one point BUT THERE IS A SAFE WORD IN THIS COUPLE’S LIFE it’s just not here; faithful Dave, soft Dave needs his own warning]

pairing: dave york x fem reader

word count: ~2100

note: AGAIN, THIS IS PERIOD SEX. THERE IS BLOOD. THERE ARE CRAMPS. CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED. shoutout to @starlightmornings for beta and encouragement, and to @danniburgh and @wyn-dixie who are both directly responsible for whatever the full fuck happened here, i am not sorry.

REBLOGS ARE LOVED AND APPRECIATED <3<3

taglist | masterlist

~~~

A sharp noise jolts Dave awake. He feels you moving against him, hears you moaning. At first he thinks you’re touching yourself. Not that he’d mind it if you were—you’ve just never been so brazen about it. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and looks a little closer; eyes shut tight, mouth slack, and your hands aren’t anywhere near your pussy. 

A nightmare, he realizes.

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@ Pedro Pascal pls reject me so I can move on🙏🙏

Your telling me Pedro Pascal is going to be in a new gory horror movie soon

Bitch- imma be the first one in the line to watch it I swear✋

two lives

Summary: Dave never planned to cheat on his wife. He never planned to fall in love with another woman. He never planned to live two separate lives. And he never planned to be attending the funeral of the love of his life after their mission went wrong.

Pairing: Dave York x OFC (can be read as reader insert)

Wordcount: 2.4k+

Warnings: character death, grieve, angst, mentions of smut, amnesia

A/N: All I’m gonna say is, I’m sorry. I wasn’t planing on writing this like that.

Masterlist

*Taglist in Reblog

It all happened too fast. It was supposed to be an easy job. In and out. In one moment they were talking about what they would be having for dinner. In the next moment she was shot. He had only turned around for one second. One fucking second. Where the fuck did that shot come from? Nobody was supposed to know they were even here. Closing his eyes he breathed in deep holding her as she fell to her knees.

“Dave…”, she choked and he felt like he aged 10 years as her hand reached for his face.

“I never told you I loved you….”, she whispered before she closed her eyes.

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Buckle in for this one. It was so beautifully written and heartbreaking ❤️‍🩹😭❤️

Inamorata- Dave York x f!reader

Dave York Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summary: You've been dating Dave York for about six months when he disappears off the face of the Earth. After some digging you find that you don't really know him at all.

Rating: EXPLICIT MDNI 18+

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: Major character death, some non explicit sex, light stalking, major grief, healing through the power of friendship, infidelity

Author's Note: thank you so much to @wannab-urs and @dancingtotuyo for beta reading and letting me shout about this fic to you!

Three weeks. That’s how long it's been since you’ve heard from Dave. He said he was going out of town for a work trip. He never told you much about his work. He worked for the government, that you knew. He said most of his work was classified, that he couldn’t tell you. “Then I’d have to kill you.” he’d joked. You weren’t really concerned the first week. Dave went out of town often for work, and he usually wasn’t reachable during that time. He hadn’t given you a specific time frame for this trip, either. The second week, you were concerned. He’d never been gone this long. You didn’t know where he was, if he was okay. Eventually, your concern ebbed and devolved into anger. He was ghosting you. That’s what this was. It’s happened before. Hell, you’ve done it before. Faked a work or family emergency to cancel a date. Then you got “really busy.” Then you just stopped responding. Maybe this was your comeuppance for your past bad dating etiquette. 

You and Dave hadn’t been dating long, only six months. They were short but, man, they had been intense. You had seen him jogging in the park, damn near every day. It was a peaceful place to sit and read. You noticed him running by on more than one occasion. He never really seemed to notice you. You began to look for him when you were there. You weren’t sure why, but you were disappointed on the days you didn’t see him. He was handsome. Sort of average height, and he had kind of a dad bod. But during the warmer months, he only wore a t-shirt and basketball shorts to run in. This allowed you to see the long plane of his body. Shoulders and biceps that stretched the cotton of his shirts. Thick, muscular thighs that flexed with every step. He had short, medium brown hair that looked soft and fluffy. He must not wear any product in it, you thought. His brown eyes shined whenever they caught your own. His sharp, angular nose was the most prominent feature on his face. He was clean shaven and that allowed you to appreciate his beautiful jawline. But the real star of the show came when he smiled. There was a dimple in the corner of his mouth that gave him an almost boyish look. Then one day his gaze caught yours just as you looked up from your book. He gave you a tight, polite smile which you returned. The next day, he smiled at you again. For a while, that was your routine. Reading in the park after work and waiting for him to run by and smile at you. 

One day, he was running by and did his usual smile. Only this time, you held his gaze when you smiled back. When he passed you, instead of continuing on his run, he turned around and began jogging backwards. You chuckled a little and so did he, maintaining eye contact all the while. That is, until he ran off the path and tripped over a tree root. He tumbled into the grass, calling out “Oh, shit!” You jumped up from your bench, abandoning your book and hurried over to his side.

“Are you okay?” you asked, leaning down to check for any visible injuries. 

“I’m fine. Just bruised my ego a bit.” he laughed

He braced his left hand on the trunk of the tree for leverage and pulled himself up. You noticed that he wasn’t wearing a ring. He didn’t have a tan line either, indicating that one might rest there normally. He brushed the dirt from his hands onto his shorts and held one out. “Hi.” he smiled wide. “I'm Dave.” The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled and that damn dimple popped. 

You held your own hand out and offered Dave your name. His warm hand wrapped around yours and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s nice to meet you.” you told him. Your breathlessness matched his but you didn’t have a jog through the park or a fall to blame it on. Your heart was racing and something stirred low in your belly. He asked you to join him for coffee at lunch time the next day, and that was that. You spent time together nearly every day after. You got lunch or met in the park. He didn’t run much anymore, opting instead to join you on a bench and watch you read or people watch. 

Now there’s just…nothing. No calls, no good morning texts, no goodbye kisses. Just radio silence. You’re off work  so you have nothing better to do than sit around and mope. Everything was going well you thought. You hadn’t argued about anything, ever really. Disagreements about where to eat or what movie to watch aside. The sex was great, and plentiful. Dave seemed insatiable for you. A feeling you mirrored. 

In fact, the last time you saw him was in this very bed. He woke you up early with his mouth between your legs. He attached his lips to your clit and didn’t let go until you were screaming his name. His mouth and chin were slick with you when his head popped out of the covers and hovered above yours. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue. He slotted his legs between yours and spread them apart with his thighs. Your cunt was already slick with arousal and saliva, so he slid right in. Once he was fully nestled inside you he leaned down so his mouth brushed your ear. “I’m gonna miss you so much, baby.” he whispered as he began to thrust his hips. You joined him in the shower after sex and he let you wash his hair. When he said goodbye to you at the door, he grabbed both of your cheeks in his hands and planted a kiss on your lips and then your forehead. “I’ll see you when I get back. I love you.” 

“I love you too, babe.” 

You ran to the window on the far side of your apartment and watched him load his suitcase and duffel into the trunk of the taxi. He looked up to your window, he knew you’d be watching, and blew you a kiss. You watched the taxi drive away until it was out of sight. Those were the last words he said to you. 

~~~~~

“Fuck this.” you think. You are not letting him do this to you. If he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, that’s fine. But you aren’t going to let him just throw you out like yesterday’s garbage. He told you he loved you. He’s gonna have to man up and tell you to your face. You’ve never been to his place. He always came here. You know he works for the government, but not what agency. You wonder if you can figure it out based on the places he’s met you for lunch. That probably won’t lead you anywhere, though. This is D.C. after all. 70% of the buildings are government agencies of some sort. Now that you think of it, you don’t actually know all that much about Dave. you pull your laptop out and open your browser. A quick google search for “Dave Young+DC+government” doesn’t bring up much. A LinkedIn search only brings up an old guy who works for the department of sanitation. Then you remember him telling you one thing about his past. He was a Marine. So you widen the search. “David Young+DC+Marine.” Again, nothing. You tap your fingers lightly across the keyboard, not pushing any keys, just thinking. “Dave Y+DC+Marine.” you hit enter and a news headline comes up. 

“Local School Honors Veterans for Veterans Day.” you almost scroll past until you see the subheadline. “Alice York (left) with her father, Dave (right), a former U.S. Marine. But the last part catches your attention. You click on the headline and it takes you to the article. There he is. He’s crouched down next to a girl, about ten, with brown hair and eyes. They look so much like Dave’s. He has his left arm wrapped around her shoulders and you can see the gold band glinting in the sunlight. Not only did he lie about his last name, he’s married. He neglected to mention the entire child he has as well. 

You slam your laptop shut, not caring if you break it. What a fucking asshole. You press the heels of your hand into your eyes, trying to stop the tears. Now what? You ask yourself. What is there to do? Just forget about him? Pretend the last six months never happened? Let him get away with this? You really believed him when he told you that he loved you. It wasn’t just a mid-sex proclamation either. 

He had just come back from another work trip. You weren't expecting him so when you answered the door you were just wearing one of the gray t-shirts he had left at your place. You were settling onto the sofa with your takeout in hand and Netflix ready to go. The soft knock on the door took you by surprise. You didn’t even think to put on pants before you answered. There he was, standing in your doorway, looking twelve kinds of distraught. He didn’t say anything for a while. He looked you up and down and rushed through the door, wrapping you up in his arms. He kicked the door closed behind him and buried his face in your neck. Your hands went around his neck, one snaking up into the back of his hair. “Hey! Is everything okay?” you asked him. 

He inhaled deeply before answering you. “Everything is fine now. I just missed you.” 

“I missed you too, Dave. You were only gone a few days, though.” 

He pulled back, holding you at arm’s length, with his hands at the small of your back. “It was a stressful trip.” he sighs. 

“Well, you’re home now.”

“Mmm. Home.” he responded quietly. 

“You hungry? I ordered plenty”

He allowed you to lead him to the couch, using his free hand to loosen his tie. He plopped down on the couch and held eye contact when you handed him a takeout box. “I love you, ya know?” he said quietly, reaching up to cup your cheek. He caressed the skin there with his thumb. 

“I love you, too, Dave.” you replied, leaning over to kiss him softly. “Let’s eat.” you shoved a fork into his hand and pressed play on the movie. 

You stand from your desk, clasping your fingers behind your head. You pace the room, trying to decide what to do with this new information. You sit back down and open your laptop back up. You click over to the open LinkedIn tab and decide to try one more search. “David York Washington D.C.” He pops right up. David York-Department of Defense-Defense Intelligence Agency. His stupid handsome face is looking back at you through the screen, dimple and all. You click over to your google tab and look up the address for the building. You recognize the street, it’s only a few blocks over from your apartment. You shut your laptop once more and begin to ready yourself for the day. 

Thirty minutes later you are sitting on a bench across the street from the DIA building. You’re just going to sit there and wait until he comes out. He’ll have to talk to you then. It’s almost lunchtime so he should be showing his face soon. The full lunch hour passes without Dave making an appearance. You are determined, though, to get your answers. You resolve to sit there until he shows his face. You pull the book you brought with you out of your purse and open it up. You can’t concentrate on the contents, reading the same words over and over. Your vision flits back and forth between your book and the main entrance to the building. Finally, the work day has come to an end. People spill out of the building, heading for their cars or the train. None of them are Dave. Once the stream of people has turned into a trickle, you slam the book shut and shove it back into your purse. You are just standing to leave when two men from the building walk past you.

“You wanna grab a beer?” the first man asks. 

“Nah, I'm gonna go by York's. Check on Carol.” the other replies. 

Your ears perk up at the mention of his name. You almost chase the men down before you realize how insane that would look. Besides, it’s embarrassing enough that your boyfriend is cheating on you, without advertising it to the whole world. Though, come to think of it, he isn’t cheating on you, he’s cheating with you. It hits you like a shot, the realization that you are the other woman. You walk back to your apartment, dejected. You drop everything on the table in the entryway and kick your shoes off. You drop your sweater on the floor in the hallway. You shuck your jeans off and leave them at the foot of your bed. You crawl under the covers and try to force every thought out of your head. You can’t get that last day out of your mind. The way he looked up at the window to you. The love that shone through his eyes when he blew you a kiss and waved goodbye. You cry yourself to sleep. 

The next few days go by in a blur. The hours and days melding together. You go through your life in a barely aware trance. You bump into people on the street without even noticing, without even apologizing. Your mind is constantly occupied with thoughts of Dave. Why did he lie? Why did he even ask you out to begin with? What was the end game here? He had to have known that eventually this would all come out. Maybe that’s why he ghosted you. She found out. She found out about you and made him choose. And he didn’t choose you. 

Now you can’t stop thinking about her. Carol, the man had called her. You wonder what she’s like. Is she pretty? Is she nice? Does she rub his shoulders when he’s had a tough day at the office? Suddenly the fog that has been surrounding you begins to clear. You were able to find Dave even after he gave you a fake last name. Finding Carol York should be no problem. She deserves to know what her husband has been up to, if she doesn’t already. You haul your laptop into the bed with you and open up a new search tab. 

Maybe I should work for the DIA, you think as you sit in your car, waiting for Carol York to exit the dry cleaner’s. She was easy enough to find. You just typed her name into the Facebook search bar and she popped right up. You knew it was her because the little circle that housed her profile picture contained a familiar face alongside her own. It was a selfie, taken at the beach. Dave had his arm wrapped around her shoulder and her head rested on his chest. His lips were pressed into her forehead and she beamed a smile at you from your computer screen. She’s gorgeous, you thought. Her eyes seem kind. You want to hate her, because she has him, yet you can’t. She didn’t do anything wrong to you. You slept with her husband, after all. 

You clicked through her photos, finding that there was also another daughter you were unaware of, Molly. You discover that Carol has a standing coffee date with her friend, Cheryl, every Monday. You know the coffee shop, it's in your neighborhood and you pop in there a few times a week. You find yourself wondering if you’d ever been there at the same time. Another realization crosses your mind. There was a reason Dave always wanted to meet at a coffee shop fifteen minutes across town. Not that you know where he works, you also know that he didn’t take you there because he liked the lattes so much. 

She exits the building and passes right by your car. You pretend to be engaged in your phone to avoid her notice. She’s even more beautiful in person.  She looks tired, though. Like she hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in a while. You think back to what you heard the man from Dave’s work say the week before. That he was going to check on her. Maybe Dave wasn’t ghosting you. Maybe he was still gone. You watch as she opens the back door of her SUV. She looks at the plastic wrapped clothes in her hand for longer than you’d think necessary before she hangs them on the hook. She slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine, but she doesn’t move for a while. 

You don’t really have a plan for any of this. You haven’t given any thought as to what you might say to her. “I’ve been fucking your husband.” isn’t exactly a good way to break the ice. You continue following behind her, signaling when she does to pull into the parking lot of a grocery store. You park at the opposite end of the lot from her, trying to remain unnoticed. You are fully aware of how insane this is. You shouldn’t be doing this, following Carol around. But you can’t help yourself. You grab a shopping cart and wander around the store. You occasionally pick up an item from a shelf, pretend to examine its contents and replace it. You catch a glimpse of Carol turning a corner to the next aisle. You follow behind her, keeping up your prestense by picking up a bottle of wine from the shelf and placing it into the cart. Carol picks up a six pack of Stella Artois from the cooler where the beer is. She is about to place it in her cart when she stops. She shakes her head and places it back on the shelf. She hurries to the checkout with her groceries and gets in line behind someone else. You only have the one item so you head to the express register. You pay and return to your car, settling in and keeping your eyes glued to the doors. You watch Carol walk to her car, looking frazzled. She loads her groceries in and returns her cart. When Carol pulls into the driveway, you slow your car way down. You pass the house and see that she has parked behind Dave’s black, government-issued sedan. The two-story house has an overgrown lawn that’s out of place in this neighborhood, but its big enough for kids to run around and play in. They even have a goddamn white picket fence. You note the street number and exit the neighborhood, driving back into the city center where your apartment is. 

You find yourself in Carol’s coffee shop the next day. You order a drink and sit at a table. You have your laptop with you so you open it up and put your headphones in. You people watch for a little bit, the way you used to do in the park with Dave. you finish your drink and pack up your bag. You use the restroom and contemplate your choices while washing your hands. Why are you doing this? What good can come of it? You resign yourself to giving up this pursuit. Sometimes you just don’t get answers and you’ll have to learn to live with that. You need to go home and wipe any evidence of Dave York from your life. It’s been over a month since you’ve heard a peep from him, almost six weeks. You need to move on with your life. 

All of the good sense you just talked into yourself goes out the window when you exit the bathroom. You spot Carol in line, tapping away on her phone. She doesn’t notice you, of course, as you slip past her and out the door. You spot her SUV on the street just a few cars ahead of your own. She exits the coffee shop and doesn’t look up from her phone as she gets into her car. She only drives a few blocks before turning into a church. You drive around the block and pull in as well. She’s not in her car anymore by the time you park. You hurry up the steps of the church and open the heavy, wooden door. You step into a brightly lit lobby. There’s a community board littered with flyers and business cards and one wall is taken up by brightly drawn pictures, clearly done by children. The pews are empty, as is the pulpit. You look down the hallway, trying to figure out where she could have gone. You hear some chatter coming from an open door at the end of the hallway. Your feet drag across the cheap carpet as you amble down the hall. You have a moment of panic just as you hit the door. What could you possibly be doing here? You don’t have time to come up with an excuse because as soon as you peek your head around the door frame you are greeted with a cheery voice.

“Hi, there! Come on in.” a slight, elderly woman calls out to you. Her hair is a dull copper color, streaked through with white. She wears a white dress with small flowers on it and white sandals. When you don’t immediately move to cross the threshold she waves you over. “Don’t be shy, now.” she says. “We don’t bite.”

You shuffle into the room and notice about 15 chairs positioned in a circle in the center of the room. Each chair has a travel package of tissues on it. A sign on display reads “Coping With Grief.” in gentle cursive on a soft pink background. There is a long table on one end of the room. Several carafes of coffee are surrounded by styrofoam cups, cougar and creamer, and a large plate of cookies. People are crowded around, getting snacks and drinks. Carol’s back is to you and she is speaking with a tall man. Again, she doesn’t notice you.

“I’m Barbara.” the elderly woman offers, holding out her hand. You slide your hand into hers and she covers it with her other one. Her hands are much cooler than yours and her veins are a stark blue underneath her thin skin. “Please, join us.” she says softly. Something about her soft tone and gentle touch immediately quiets the anxiety you have been feeling for weeks. Your decision to stay is only partly due to your curiosity at what Carol York would be doing at a grief support group. The other part is the realization that you have your own grief that you haven't been dealing with. Instead, you’ve been wallowing in it, obsessing over the circumstances. You nod and take a seat in the circle. Carol smiles when she sits down across from you, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

There are only a few open seats when everyone settles in. Barbara stands in the middle of the circle and clasps her hands together. “Welcome to Coping with Grief. I’m Barbara. I see some new faces here, along with some familiar ones. Would anyone like to begin?” she asks.

The tall man that was speaking with Carol before speaks up. “I’ll go first.” he offers. Barbara gives him a smile and a nod and takes an open seat. “I’m Greg. I lost my wife to cancer about nine months ago.” Greg tells the story of how his wife discovered her breast cancer, and after three years of treatments, passed in her sleep. “Every morning, when I wake up, there is a moment where I forget that she’s gone. I turn over to say ‘Good morning’ and am taken aback that she isn’t there. Then, it all comes rushing back to me.” You hear a sniffle from Carol’s direction and when you turn towards the sound, you see tears streaming down her face. 

“I’m sorry.” she croaks, opening the pack of tissues and bringing one to her eyes.

“That’s okay.” Barbara assures her. “Would you like to share?” she asks. 

Carol nods and takes a moment to gather herself. When she begins speaking, your blood runs cold and a wave of nausea crashes through your body. 

“My name is Carol. About a month and a half ago, my husband died.” 

“Was it an illness?” Barbara coaxes gently.

Carol shakes her head and clears her throat. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, collecting her composure. “He was on a business trip near the coast of Massachusetts. He worked for the government and went out of town all the time. He got caught in the hurricane that hit there. His hotel was destroyed and he was found in the rubble. It took them two weeks to even get his body identified.” She’s crying in full force now and it’s taking every ounce of your self control not to join her. 

Dave didn’t ghost you. He didn’t abandon you or choose his family over you. Dave didn’t come home to you because he couldn’t. Sure, he lied to you about his wife and kids, even his name. But now, you are struggling to reconcile that with the fact that you still believe he was being truthful when he told you that he loved you. 

The sound of your blood rushing through veins drowns out the rest of Carol's story. When she's finished speaking, Barbara offers her some words of comfort that you can’t make out. The ever intuitive Barbara announces that this might be a good time for a break. She points you in the direction of the restroom and you excuse yourself. Once you are out of sight of the open door, you make a run for it. You push open the heavy door and suck cold air into your lungs. You take deep breaths, trying to stave off the vomit threatening to spill out. It’s too late. You lean over the handrail and heave into the bushes, emptying the contents of your roiling stomach. 

When your stomach has settled enough you open the pack of tissues you hadn’t realized were still gripped tightly in your hand. You wipe your mouth with one and shove it into the pocket of your jeans. You sit on the steps until you catch your breath. Your chest heaves in and out with each breath. You can’t believe he’s gone. You’ll never see him again, never wake up in his arms, never argue over what to watch and he’ll never snag fries off your plate when you aren’t looking. He’s just…gone. You stand from the stairs and reenter the church, searching for the bathroom. You are rinsing your mouth in the sink when you hear a toilet flush. You splash some water on your face and are drying it with a paper towel when the stall door opens. Carol exits the stall and flashes you a tight smile in the mirror. 

“I’m sorry if I upset you.” she says sadly and your stomach churns again. 

“Oh, no!” you exclaim, perhaps a little too insistently. “Not at all.” you try to assure her with a wave of your hand.

“Was it recent?” she asks.

It takes you a moment to understand her meaning. “Oh, yes. Quite recent.” you offer, unsure of what else to say. How do you tell her that she was the bearer of your bad news? 

She places a hand on your shoulder and you jump slightly. When the warmth of her skin seeps through the cotton of your thin sweater, you lean into her touch. Nobody has touched you in kindness in weeks. Not since Dave. You lived a pretty solitary existence before Dave came into your life. Your family is thousands of miles away, and you’ve always been somewhat of a loner. You go out to drinks with your coworkers every once in a while, but nothing of substance has ever come from those outings. 

She turns to face you and opens her arms to you. Without hesitation you step forward and she wraps her arms around your shoulders. Yours circle the small of her back and you each rest your head on the other’s shoulder. What kind of psycho are you? You ask yourself. Letting her comfort you, when the man you are crying over is her husband? You aren’t sure how long the two of you stand there, crying and grieving for the same man. 

“Oh, shit! Sorry!” you apologize when you finally lift your head and see that you’ve gotten snot on her jacket. Carol laughs while you wipe it away and you join her. “I’m a fucking mess right now.” you admit. You hold out a tissue for her. 

“I am, too. I never thought I would be doing any of this without him.” she wipes some tears from her eyes and blows her nose. “Do you want to go get some lunch?” she asks.

For a moment, you panic. This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong. You tell yourself over and over. But you just feel so drawn to her. You have from the moment you laid eyes on that tiny circle of a picture. At first, you just wanted answers. Then, you kept following her because you were curious about her. Now, everything is out on the table and you still just want to be around her. 

“Yeah. I’d really like that, actually.” 

~~~~~

Dave has been gone three months now, and you still miss him every day. You went through a really rough period when he first died. Well, when you first found out that he died. You returned to your apartment from lunch with Carol that day, climbed into your bed, and didn’t leave for two weeks. Your job was understanding at first, but they couldn’t wait forever. They politely took you off the schedule and told you that you could come back when you were ready. You got food delivered and ate in bed. The tv never went off, just played whatever was the first thing you could click on. You weren’t watching it anyways. You ignored every text and call that came through your phone, except Carol’s. She texted you when you missed the next grief group but you didn’t answer. When you missed the one following that she called. 

You told her you were feeling under the weather and she hoped you would feel better soon. The thing that finally got you out of bed was Carol calling for your address, informing you that she was dropping by to bring you some soup and other supplies. You texted her the address and jumped out of bed. You ran into the kitchen and grabbed a trash bag. You started shoving the garbage that covered nearly every service into the bag. It didn’t take long to fill it up, then a second. You rushed down the hall to throw the bags in the trash chute. Then you hurried back into your apartment and hopped in the shower. You gave yourself a quick scrub and rinse and found some jeans and a t-shirt in your laundry basket that didn’t smell too bad. Then you picked up all the clothes from the floor and stuffed them in, and shoved the basket into your closet. You grabbed some air freshener and sprayed every room thoroughly, trying to hide the evidence of the squalor you’d been wallowing in. You had just lit a candle when you heard the knock on the door. 

You looked in the mirror near the door and fussed over your appearance. No amount of rubbing or pinching was going to do anything for the bags under your eyes. Not in the time you needed to answer the door to remain polite. You smoothed some wrinkles out of the gray t-shirt you fished out of the hamper and then you froze. Dave’s shirt. You just had to hope she wouldn’t notice. You plastered a fake smile on your face and swung the door open. 

Ever since that day, when Carol walked into your apartment and immediately took you into her arms, there hasn’t passed a day that you haven’t spoken. You get coffee together in the mornings, and lunch in the afternoon and attend grief group together once a week. When the girls go spend the weekend at her parents house, she comes over to your apartment with a box of wine or a bottle of tequila. You get takeout and drink too much and cry. You cry to this woman about the good times you had with her husband. About how he wooed you and made love to you. How sad you are that you won’t ever see him or hear him or feel him again. And she comforts you. Offers her shoulder for you to cry on and cries with you. You cry with her when she tells you about what a good dad Dave was. Not that she would be able to tell it was anything other than sympathy. She’d never know that you were mourning the family you thought you’d have with him one day. 

Tonight, she’s invited you over for dinner with her and the girls. She’s been asking for weeks and you’d always managed to weasel out of it. You just didn’t think you’d be able to handle it. Being in the house he shared with her, with them. Knowing that you’ll never have that wasn’t even the worst part of it. It was knowing that it had never been on the table for you to begin with. Of course Dave wasn’t going to marry you. He already had a wife. Of course you weren’t going to have the white picket fence and the yard for the kids. He already had that. Dave already had an entire life before you came along. You were just some sort of…accessory for him. 

You’d run out of believable excuses, though. Soon, Carol would start to take it personally. You didn’t want to hurt the feelings of the woman who had become your friend, your only friend. Your lifeline, really.  If it wasn’t for Carol you aren’t sure you would have ever gotten out of that bed. You would have just laid there, rotting, until you joined the man you love in death. But Carol wasn’t about to allow that to happen. She even got you a new job working from home. Besides, she’s all you have left of Dave. As twisted as it is, being around her makes you feel like you did when you were with him, home. 

You smooth your clothes and ring the doorbell. “Don’t answer the door!” you hear muffled through the wood. The door swings open and a little girl is standing there, the one from the newspaper article you had found all those months ago. She smiles up at you with a toothy grin and bright eyes that look so much like his. 

“Hi, I’m Alice!” she chirps. “Are you mommy’s friend?” 

You nod and hold your hand out, offering her your name. Instead, she throws her arms around you, giving you a squeeze. 

“Come on!” she leads you into the house by your hand. You follow her through the entryway, past the stairs and into the kitchen. The other girl, Molly, is sitting at the island coloring. Her feet swing back and forth in the tall chair and she looks up at you. She returns your wave with a shy one of her own, and returns to her gaze to the book. You hear footsteps on the stairs behind you and Carol appears, running a brush through her hair. 

“Hi! I’m so glad you could make it.” she says. Then she turns to her daughter. “Alice York, you know better than to open the door.” she scolds. “You never know who could be on the other side.” Alice nods and her gaze shifts to the floor. Carol plants a kiss on the crown of her head. “Go on now. Take your sister and go wash up for dinner.” she instructs. Alice helps the younger girl down and they scurry up the stairs. “Dinner’s just about done. Do you want some wine?” she offers. 

The girls talk your ears off during dinner. Alice tells you all about her soccer team and Molly tells you about her class hamster. You help Carol wash up after dinner despite her protests. Once the last dish has been rinsed and put into the dishwasher, Carol gives you a tour of the house. It’s excruciating trying to hold back your tears when you look at the pictures that hang on the walls. Family photos, the girls’ school pictures, and hanging above the fireplace is a large framed print showing Dave and Carol’s wedding day. It hurts you to see how happy they looked together. Littered on almost every surface are smaller, candid photos. Dave rolling in the grass with his daughters and Carol holding a newborn baby, Dave standing beside her looking down proudly at them. When the tour takes you to their bedroom, you hesitate to cross the threshold. It feels like you are violating the sanctity of something so private, something your eyes were never meant to see. 

Some bickering filters out of the hall bathroom and Carol excuses herself to go see what the problem is. You take the opportunity to really analyze the contents of their bedroom. On one of the nightstands you see a pair of glasses and a contacts case. Next to it is a watch that you’d seen on your own nightstand more than once. You never knew that he wore glasses. Just another thing showing you that you didn't know him at all. You peek out the door and hear Carol still coaxing her children to brush their teeth without ripping each other’s head off. You cross the room and slide open the mirrored door of the closet. You see Dave’s clothing hanging there, as neat and organized as you expected it to be. You run your hand along the shoulders of his jackets and suit coats and when you get to the t-shirts you pull one out. The well worn gray cotton is so soft. The Marines emblem on the front is cracked and peeling from its many spins in the washing machine. You grab the bottom of the shirt and pull it up to your nose, inhaling deeply. It smells mostly like laundry detergent but there is still a faint whiff of Dave left on it. It was his favorite shirt. Yours, too. It was the shirt he was wearing when you met him that day in the park. There were many a night when you pulled it over your head after a night of love making. You consider stealing it. Plucking it off the hanger and stuffing it into your purse. 

You jump when you hear Carol’s footsteps coming back down the hall, and attempt to slide the closet closed as quietly as possible. You and Carol retire to the living room. She lights the fireplace, laughing because she almost burnt her hair off the first time she had to do it on her own. “Dave used to do it for me.” she explained with just a hint of sadness in her voice. You polish off the rest of the bottle of wine, and a second bottle. Before she opens the third bottle she invites you to spend the night. 

“Oh, no.” you decline, “I wouldn’t want to intrude.” you don’t think that you could stand sleeping in this house knowing the secret you are keeping from her. 

“Come on.” she insists. “I can’t let you drive home like this. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.” The words she doesn’t speak come through loud and clear. Carol can’t lose someone else. 

You agree and help her finish off the bottle of wine. You follow her up the stairs and she shows you to the guest room. “I’ll go grab you some clothes to sleep in.” she says and disappears down the hall. When she returns she’s holding a stack of neatly folded clothes. “I hope these are good.” 

“Oh this is fine.” you take the clothes from her hand and the corner of the shirt’s design catches your eye. You set the rest of the clothes on the bed and unfold the shirt. The faded Marines shirt you were looking at in their closet just hours before. “Oh, I don’t think I should-” you begin but Carol cuts you off. 

“It’s fine.” she says with a wave of her hand. “His clothes have just been sitting there, someone should use them. I can’t bring myself to get rid of anything of his.”

Finally, it all becomes too much. The guilt, the lies, it all comes bubbling to the surface and you hear the words leave your mouth before you can even attempt to stop them. “I need to tell you something.” you tell her, still holding the shirt, clutching it tightly to your chest. “I don’t even know how to say this.” you begin. “I knew Dave.” you confess. Carol doesn’t say anything so you continue. “I was seeing him for a little while. Well for about six months. I swear to you, though, I had no idea he was married. I would never have gone out with him if I had known.” you are babbling but you need to get it all out before she throws you out of her house. You need to let her know the truth, even if it means you lose her. 

“I only found out he was married because I hadn't heard from him in weeks and I was mad. I thought he just threw me away and I was gonna find him and give him a piece of my mind.” Carol still hasn’t said a word or moved from where she stands. “He gave me a fake last name so it took some digging to even find out his real name. I swear I didn’t know about you or the girls.” you are crying now, your tears roll down your cheek and drip off your chin to the fabric still clutched in your hands. “I followed you to the church that day. I didn’t even know Dave was dead until you spoke about it in group.”  

Eventually Carol moves, walking towards you. She takes you by surprise when she pulls you into her arms. She rubs her hand across your back and tries to help you calm yourself down. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be alright. I knew. I already knew.” she soothes. 

You flinch away, confused by what she’s just said. “What do you mean you knew?” you ask, suddenly feeling very defensive. Not that you have any right to be. You’ve been lying to this woman for months. “Did you know the whole time? Even before he died.” 

Carol sits on the edge of the bed and pats the space next to her with her hand. “Come sit down.” when you don’t move she repeats the motion. “Please. I’ll explain everything.” You join her on the bed and she reaches out, taking one of your hands into both of her own. “I didn’t know until after we met. Honestly, it never crossed my mind that Dave was being unfaithful to me. He was so secretive about his work and it took him out of town all the time. But the last few months he was being- dodgy, I guess is the best word for it.” Now it’s your turn for silence. 

“He changed the password on his phone and he was out of town more than usual. Then, when he would come home from a weekend away sometimes, he smelled like perfume. I smelled that same perfume on you when we hugged in that church bathroom.” you let out a soft gasp but Carol continues. “Of course, I thought I was crazy at first. Surely, hundreds of women wear the same perfume. But the more I thought about your reaction to my story that first day in group the more I thought it was possible.” 

You shift uncomfortably on the bed. You want to crawl out of your skin and die. She knew. She knew that you were mourning the same man she was. You’ve never felt so shitty in your life. 

“But what really sealed the deal for me was hearing you talk about him. His quirks and the stuff you would argue about. I just knew.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why would you befriend me?” you ask incredulously. 

Carol shrugs her shoulders. “Seemed like you needed a friend, someone who knew what you were going through. God knows I did.”

“You don’t hate me for- for being the other woman or whatever?” you asked. 

Carol huffs out a laugh. “You didn’t exchange vows with me. You didn’t owe me fidelity, he did. I didn’t know if you even knew, but after getting to know you, I just decided that it didn’t matter. I love you and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” 

You raise your hand in defense. “I swear on everything, Carol, I did not know.” she reaches up and grabs your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours.

“I believe you. I promise.” she assures you. “Can we please just move on from this? I’m glad it’s all out in the open now, but I really don’t want to waste time harping on it. It happened, it’s done. Dave hurt both of us but he’s gone. He isn’t here to answer for the things he did. But we found each other as a result of it. Let’s let sleeping dogs lie, huh?” 

Half an hour later, you are showered and tucked into the guest bed. You feel so much lighter, the weight of the guilt you had been carrying around is gone. You can finally let go of everything, the anger you hold in your heart for Dave, and make space for the love. The love for Dave that you probably won’t ever lose, the love for Carol and her friendship and maybe even some for yourself. That night you sleep better than you have in months. 

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AHHH!!!!!! Holy fuck did not see that coming at all. GIVE ME MURDER DADDY!

🥵🥵🥵

Kryptonite | Dave York x Reader | One Shot

Rating: EXPLICIT/Mature

Summary: Running into Dave York changes your life and unleashes a new part of yourself.

Inspired by Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

Tags: dark!Dave York, infidelity, Germany, song fic

Warnings: infidelity, violence and descriptions of violence, death (not Dave or reader), descriptions of blood, murder, self defense, explicit smut (p in v), oral sex (both m & f receiving), heavy groping, choking, smacking/hitting in a sexual manner, knife play, power dynamics, use of “daddy” in a sexual manner (minimal), consensual sex, possible dub con, cream pie

Notes: I wrote this one for the LOML @janaispunk for Christmas 🫶, though you won’t find it filled with Christmas festivities! Huge shout out to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for listening to my ideas, reading through it, and being an overall huge encourager!

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PAY EXTRA ATTENTION TO WARNINGS ON THIS ONE

Words: 7160

THIS STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT AND DARK THEMES. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR THOSE UNDER 18 YEARS OF AGE. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT

“I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind.”

Dave York isn’t a bad guy. If one were to give him a chance, he would explain how he’s actually one of the good guys. He’s simply standing up for those who have been wronged by the fucked up system that abandoned the ones who do the dirty work. It’s all conjecture. How he rationalizes it all away. How he lets himself sleep at night, and go home to his wife and beautiful daughters. He does this for them. He isn’t a bad guy.

Yet, even he starts to see through his bullshit. He won’t admit it, but it’s getting harder to sleep at night. Tonight is one of those nights. That’s how he finds himself wandering the streets of a German city he can’t remember the name of.

The air is just verging on chilly, the breeze whipping at his typically well-kempt hair. He usually keeps to the shadows when he’s managing his side business, worried about being picked up on a camera, but it’s late now. He keeps out of the street lights, the stars shielded by the light pollution.

He inhales deeply. This time tomorrow he’ll be on a flight back to the States and slide into bed next to his wife. He’ll wake up, make lunch for the girls, and take them to school. The perfect all-American family. Dave loves them. His girls are his world. He is doing this for them. Every smile and giggle makes this all worth it. Alice and Molly deserve the world. Sometimes, he wonders if his wife knows. Carol hasn’t said anything, but sometimes he catches her just staring at him. Logic says she just loves him. How many times early on in their life together had he done the same thing? How long has it been since he looked at her with that awe?

If he’s honest, Dave doesn’t give his marriage much thought anymore. It’s something that’s just there like two planets orbiting each other but never intersecting. It’s something that’s just part of the persona of Dave York. The version of him his friends and family know. He is starting to wonder if that man still exists. He’s found himself feeling freer during his “work trips” than he does at home.

If it weren’t for his girls…

Dave can’t finish the thought as he collides with a woman in a blue dress and billowing feather boas wrapped around her neck. You.

“Oh shit!” Dave’s hands shoot out, steadying your form, one on each shoulder.

You let out a soft snort quickly covering it with a giggle. “Oh my god.” You try to sober but fail before another giggle takes over. You buzz with the carefree energy of someone a couple drinks into the evening but not wasted.

Any words forming in Dave’s head die there. Your eyes sparkle with mischief. Your smile leaves him stunned. He’s seen his fair share of women even as a married man, but never crossed the boundary of infidelity. Dave doesn’t label what is about to happen as infidelity because right now he isn’t Dave York from Arlington, Virginia, father to two and husband. Right now, he’s Dave York private gun for hire, or Patrick Smith born in Pennsylvania if you looked at his passport.

“I’m sorry,” you say. Dave’s hands don’t move from your shoulders. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Dave flashes a smile, the same one he used to pick up Carol years ago, but she’s the furthest thing from his mind right now. “I should be more aware of my surroundings. Especially with such a beautiful woman about.”

Your cheeks flush with heat. He has a sneaking suspicion that it’s not from the alcohol in your system. Dave has never been above sweet-talking to get his way during his time with the agency. “You’re American.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Dave winks. You laugh. Dave swears he could listen to that sound every day if given the chance. “But are you with anyone? It’s late. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you out here all alone.”

You tilt your head to the side, life glowing in your eyes. Whether you’re always like this or it’s all alcohol-induced, Dave doesn’t know, but he wants to find out. He needs to know.

“And I’m supposed to trust you, Mr. America.”

He chuckles, looking up at the sky for a moment before bringing his gaze back to you. He can’t stop taking you in. You feel like a breath of fresh air in his stifling life. He smiles, the first time he’s felt fully himself in possibly years. “My name is Dave.”

You glance between his hand and his face, sussing out if he is trustworthy. He seems so, comes across as genuine. He’s a bit older than you, but handsome nonetheless with big brown eyes and the sincerity of a well-raised child.

You inhale deeply, choosing to be a little wreckless for once and jump head first into something. What’s the worst that could happen? You take his hand.

“I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon.”

It’s probably a stupid choice, but Dave gives you his number. His real number. He doesn't have enough time to see you again before he leaves Germany and he isn’t ready to let this go yet. He escorts you safely to your apartment, chatting idly over the 10-minute walk and the 30 minutes you spend on the front stoop. As he goes to leave, you stand on tiptoes, pressing your lips against his. In return, he pushes you against the front door, hands roaming up your sternum. You giggle at him like a smitten schoolgirl and hand him your phone.

Dave has a second number. He could’ve given you that one. He probably should have, but he wants easier access. He risks it. Dave is not a careless man, but he leans into the easiness of it in the moment. He kisses you again before leaving, much more chastely this time. He promises to see you next time he’s in town. He tells you he does business in Germany often. It won’t be long.

His veins buzzed with electricity the whole walk back to his apartment, his body alive in a way that feels almost supernatural. As he crosses the threshold, his phone pings with a text from an unknown number. Dave knows who it is before he looks at the text.

Over the next two weeks, Dave finds himself instantly reaching for his phone with each ping. The time difference is a pain in the ass but sometimes works in Dave’s favor. Like when Carol is sound asleep and you’re wide awake across the sea.

When the call comes through from a contact that they’re ready to move in on a target in Germany, Dave almost jumps up in celebration. He’s never hit the tarmac with his bags packed so fast. He tacks on a couple extra days to visit you.

Those extra days can’t come soon enough. He always prides himself on his ability to compartmentalize. He can tune out the rest of the world, get a job done with the precision of the assassin he is, and return to life as if nothing happened, but this time, he finds himself rushing through the process, eager to get to the finish line, eager to get to you.

However, when the night of the hit comes, he slips right into Dave York The Killer, cold, heartless, robotic. The crew is smaller this trip, the target not as high profile, but still a big payout. He forces himself to stay steady, forces himself not to speed through his progressions. The team doesn’t notice a difference in him. He takes that as a good sign. The target is asleep, alone, thank god.

Dave slides the knife into the victim’s chest. He’s lying if he says he doesn’t find a particular beauty in it. The firm pressure, the slice of the knife, the crimson blood. It’s always a rush, the planning, the practice, the kill, and Dave enjoys it all. This particular hit sends an extra rush of pleasure through his veins.

He takes the train to get to you, fighting the urge to show up on your doorstep in the wee hours of the morning. Dave York is not a patient man, but he somehow manages, pacing his hotel room still as he buzzes with the high of the night’s hit and the excitement of seeing you in the morning. You recommended meeting at a small cafe, but as Dave lays awake with the sun peeking through the curtains, he decides to surprise you at the apartment.

Dave has to force himself not to rush, which seems to be becoming a theme with him. He makes himself a cup of coffee in the hotel room and sits down drinking every drop until he can’t stand to wait any longer, leaving his hotel 30 minutes before he needs to.

Dave could’ve taken time to enjoy the city in daylight. He spends so much of his time in these destinations under the cover of darkness, missing the beauty, but he doesn't. He wants to believe he keeps to his training, keeping an eye out for someone following him and staying out of the view of cameras, but the truth is, he’s completely unaware of it all. His sole purpose is to get to you.

When your apartment building comes into view, he finally slows, aware of how early he is. Hell, he’s supposed to meet you there.

One of your curtains is open, giving him a faraway view into your apartment. Dave has fully accepted that he’s verging into creep territory, but he doesn’t care. It’s been two weeks since he’s laid eyes on you. That’s two weeks too long for him.

He holds his breath, waiting in anticipation for a glimpse of you, patience dwindling within a few minutes of waiting. The anticipation grows into anxiety. Did he come to the wrong building? That’s impossible. Dave never forgets places, even if he did, he would never forget yours. Are you home? Did you forget? He studies the window searching for any evidence of life. Has something happened to you? Oh god, has someone connected the two of you? Figured out his whole facade? He has half a mind to break down the door and go in guns blazing.

His phone pings. It’s the only thing that could break his concentration. Your name pops up, granting him instant relief.

See you in 20?

He smiles, glancing back up toward the window. You are okay. Everything is okay because Dave is a smart man. He knows how to cover his tracks, and you are a sacred treasure he wants to keep all to himself. He will hide you away, protect you from it all.

He catches the subtle flutter of the curtains. The world around him becomes nonexistent as his full attention is pulled toward the window. She moves into view, head whipping around as you search for a specific item. He smiles, all of the anxiety leaving his body.

Instead of responding via text, he hits the call button. The dial tone plays against his ear. She moves out of view, no doubt searching for her cell.

“Hello?”

A smile overtakes his face. Dave can’t remember the last time one did so effortlessly. “Look out your window, Darling.”

His voice sits low in his chest, sending shivers through your body. You pull back the curtain. Dave waves down below. “Are you stalking me now?”

“It’s not stalking if you showed me where you live.”

You bite back your smile, heat gathering in your cheeks. “We were supposed to meet there.”

“I couldn’t wait.”

“Give me two minutes.” You say and the line goes dead.

Dave watches you zip away from the window. The swinging of the curtains is the only indication you were ever there. His chest tightens as he waits. Dave York considers himself a patient man, but he checks his watch for the 5th time in two minutes.

Then your door swings open. You come barreling toward him, a smile plastered to your face. It’s contagious as Dave chuckles, spinning you around like an episode of The Bachelor. His lips are warm against your cheek. “I’ve missed you, darling.”

A shiver runs down your spine as your feet plant on the ground. Dave’s warm brown eyes meet yours. “How can you miss someone you’ve hardly seen?”

“How can someone not miss you?” He laughs, fingers weaving with yours.

“You lie, Dave.”

“I could never lie to you.” He winks.

Dave holds your hand all the way to the cafe. He pays for your meal. He’s engaging, charming, making conversation, desperate to know everything he can about you. You’ve never felt such intention from another person.

After the cafe, you walk through town, hand in hand in broad daylight. The conversation continues to flow as naturally as a river. Dave is captivated. There’s no other word for it. He wants you. He never wants to leave. He thinks he may need you for survival.

You steer your steps toward your apartment. There’s a time and a place for subtlety. Today is not that. Dave picks up on it, catching the dilation of your pupils, feeling the shift between you.

But when you make it to the door, Dave plays the gentleman, asking when he can see you again. You cut him off with a kiss, tongue quickly delving into his mouth. His large hands plant solidly on your hips. You pull him inside. Dave remains respectful, but commanding. You eagerly submit to him. He stays the night.

“After all I knew it had to be something to do with you.”

Dave is losing it. One might argue that’s a bad thing. He’s not so sure as his mind is overrun with flashes of you. He’s quick to check his phone each time it dings. He knows better than to assign you a specific tone, but he wants to, even knows which one he would choose.

His team is building quite the reputation in the gun for hire business. They’re turning down jobs, having to play the cautious game of balancing their time between murder and families. They can’t arouse suspicions. They take turns staying stateside, sending in different crews depending on the job and need. Dave accepts every job within a quick train ride of you. He goes on each one. Sometimes it’s just him. Those are the easiest. He doesn’t even need to tell the team. It makes it easy to slip in, add more red to his ledger, and run to you with his hands dripping, metaphorically of course.

He can never stay more than the weekend, usually no more than a night, but you take every moment. He’s a drug you crave, an addiction you can’t kick. In fact, you don’t want to. It doesn’t matter if you never get more than a stolen night here and there, you’ll take whatever you can get running your hands over his toned muscles, tracing the scars littered over his body, some new and red, some old and faded.

It gives him an air of danger that sends a rush through you each time, like there’s darkness embedded in each scar and it seeps into you. The feeling should unnerve you. It doesn’t.

You want to ask, but you bite your tongue. They seem almost glaring compared to the person you know. Dave is sweet and gentle. The most violence you’ve seen in him is the intense fly hunt you went on last weekend as it buzzed intently around the two of you on the couch. You wonder about the stories behind each nonetheless. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.

He leaves again. He always does with the promise of returning soon. He can’t give you a date. He never can. His phone rings as he walks out the door. You catch the flash of a couple on his screen and a woman’s name drops from his lips. He doesn’t know you see it. Carol.

“But still your secrets I will keep”

You’re drenched. Sweat gathers across your naked skin. Dave thrusts into your dripping pussy, cock soaked in your juices. Your moans marry together, echoing off the walls of your apartment at 2 o'clock on a Thursday afternoon.

You called out of work when he appeared on your doorstep without a warning. He seemed broody, crashing his lips onto yours with more force than you were used to, setting your body ablaze in a new way.

Dave’s hips snap into yours with greater force than usual, his grip a little tighter, but it doesn’t hurt. Not how you expect it to. You like it, this rough side, the way his large hand pins both your arms to the mattress. “You’re taking me so good, Darling. Like a good little girl.”

His words strike a chord within you. Your walls tighten around him. You’re close. You know it. He knows it. His fingers run through your sopping folds, flicking at your clit with skill and precision. Your back arches. You feel like you need to crawl out of your skin. “I’m almost there.”

“I know, baby.” He keeps pace, pushing you closer and closer.

The invisible line snaps as waves of pleasure roll over your body. Dave keeps going, so close to his own release. He’s relentless, prolonging your own orgasm.

“I want to finish inside you. Fill you up like a dirty little whore.” Your cunt clenches around him. You’re not sure why his words affect you the way they do, but you love it. He moans. “Please, Darling.”

“Yes,” You hiss, feeling as if your orgasm has started over. “Please, fill me up.”

“Fuck!” Dave thrusts into you. Once. Twice. And then he buries himself into you, filling you with every drop he has.

Once the high settles to a mild thrum and you’ve cleaned up, you sit on the bed, fresh sheets below you, watching Dave as he gathers his things off your dresser. The sex was different this time, good, mind altering.

Dave has yet to put a shirt on. There’s a scar along his back that disappears beneath the waistband on his jeans. You’ve seen it before. You know all his scars, and you’re gathering his secrets too.

“I hope that wasn’t too much,” Dave says, back still turned to you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he turns to you, with worried eyes. You saw a piece of him today that no one has seen before. Of that, you have no doubt.

“No, I liked it.” A small smirk quirks your lips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to trying some new things.” Heat pools in your belly again. That same darkness flashes in Dave’s eyes. You want to pull it out and learn it.

He chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

He pulls on his shirt, turning his phone back on. Your heart drops, popping the bubble. “You can’t stay.”

Dave sighs. You catch the guilt hanging off of him. “I’m sorry, Darling.”

“It’s okay…”

Dave bites his lip. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I-”

“I know you’re married.” It rolls off your lips without a second thought. You’re not sure where it comes from.

Dave’s face pales, tongue going dry as sandpaper. “Darling-”

“And I don’t care.”

The color fills his face again as he steps over to you. “How do you know?”

You shrug, laying back on the bed. “She called you when you were leaving last time. I did my research, Dave York.”

Dave isn’t sure what to think. In his line of work, it’s scary to know you found him on the internet. It’s a safety issue. If something ever happened to Molly and Alice… but he’s trusted you with much more than anyone else.

“You mean it? You don’t care?” He searches your eyes for any doubt, but finds none.

“You’re the one traveling across the ocean to see me. I also think you’re not just ‘working for the government’.”

There’s a deep growl low in his throat. He oozes evil like your favorite book to movie villain, sending shivers through your body. He cups your neck, using force to pull your lips to his. It’s hot and needy like he didn’t just spend the afternoon buried inside of you. His tongue shoves its way into your mouth, fighting with yours. He grabs your ass kneading it in his palms.

Then, he pulls away, voice gravely in your ear. “One of these days I’m going to tell you every single evil thing I’ve done, and you’re going to like it.”

You gasp, toes curling. He keeps eye contact with you, searching for any sign that you might reject him for it. You don’t ask. You don’t scoff. You believe him. You’ve seen the slivers of evil before, felt them. You’re beginning to wonder if they’ve seeped into you too.

Then he’s gone, disappearing like a ghost.

“I picked you up and put you back on solid ground.”

Adrenaline pumps through your veins. Your heart pounds in your ear. You can’t tell much in the dark, except there’s a man in your apartment, clad in black, and it’s not Dave.

You clutch the kitchen knife to your chest, thankful for Dave’s obsession with keeping things sharp. His boots are steady on your hardwood floors, leaving you to wonder if you’re safe huddled in the corner, or if you should sneak up behind him. Dave taught you to attack only if you are sure you can land a debilitating blow by surprise. You’re not a trained fighter. You’re not an assassin. You’re pretty sure Dave is.

Then, you see your chance. A small opportunity where you know you’ll be hidden in the darkness, not exposed by the open window. You know which floor boards to avoid.

You expect it to go by in a blur, but your mind feels clear. The exposed point on his neck calls to you like a beacon. The artery. He’ll bleed out before he knows what’s happening. Dave’s voice echoes in your head.

Your knife sinks into his neck, slicing skin and tissue like it’s softened butter. You pull the knife out, it drips with crimson blood. He tumbles forward, your lamp shattering into a million tiny pieces as he falls forward.

“You bitch!” He manages to his feet, blood spurting out of his neck. He tries to cover it with his hand, but he’s already losing color in his face. He stumbles toward you. You easily step out of his path, sinking the knife into his chest cavity. It’s more difficult, but you know when you hit his lung.

You watch him fall to the floor, air wheezing from him like a punctured balloon as he coughs and sputters. He’s trying to speak, but can’t. You cock your head to the side, watching it happen, watching the life drain from his eyes, listening to his final breaths. You did that. You took down a man bigger than yourself with two quick blows, without hesitation.

You can feel the thick, red blood dripping off your fingers, soaking into your clothes.Your chest heaves. The knife clatters to the floor. You turn your hands over. You should want this off of you, scratching at the skin to remove it. Instead, you just stare in awe.

Dave appears, heart racing as he takes in the scene. He was gone for only a few hours. A quick job in a neighboring town. “Darling?”

You don’t respond, still inspecting your coated hands. He puts a hand on your shoulder, desperate to know that you’re okay. You jump, eyes blow wide.

“What happened?”

“I don't know. I woke up and he was here… I just- I did what you taught me.”

Your eyes focus on him. He’s in weird clothes- tactical gear. He probably killed someone tonight too.

“Are you okay?”

Your eyes snap back down to your hands. Are you okay? You don’t remember getting hit or knocked over, just the steel blade sinking into flesh over and over and over.

“Darling, look at me!” His hand wraps around your neck and your back hits the wall.

Your eyes snap to him. Your heavy breaths mingle together in the deafening silence that coats your apartment. His eyes are dark. Darker than you ever remember seeing them. You think, maybe, there’s a hint of cruelty floating in them.

“You’re okay.” His eyes scan over you to assure himself as well. He reminds himself that blood is not yours.

Your eyes drift back toward the body. The body that used to house a person with a life and family and-

“Look at me.” Dave’s voice is commanding, forcing obedience. The other side of him is coming out. This is not the Dave you know. It’s the one you’ve caught glimpses of. The one he told you about. This Dave is a monster. A monster you should run from.

“You did nothing wrong. He would’ve killed you.” His hand presses into your neck again. “You did the right thing.”

You thought this moment would break you, losing your Dave, but this Dave is yours too. You thought the monster would scare you. It’s everything you’ve ever stood against, but you want the monster.

A thrill shoots through you, unlocking a deep urge. The world should be blurry, hazing like the TV shows when someone experiences a trauma, but it’s buzzing around you instead. Your senses feel heightened.

Dave says your name. You look up at him. Time stands still. He knows you know. It’s a question of if you will accept it. You shouldn’t. You’re too good for him. He shouldn’t tarnish you, but he catches that look. It’s everything he feels after a kill. The adrenaline rush, the buzz of life through your veins. Maybe he didn’t tarnish you. Maybe he unlocked something in you. Your bloodied hands tangle in his thick hair as he surges forward lips colliding with yours.

This is wrong, so wrong. Another man’s blood is literally on your hands as they tangle in Dave’s hair. You should be disgusted with yourself. This is wicked. You’ve run from the wickedness your entire life. Now you feel like you should have embraced it. He bites your lip, so hard there’s a metallic taste in your mouth. It only spurs you on. A familiar ache grows in your core. Your teeth nash against his, meeting each of his tortuous movements.

His hand squeezes your neck just enough to make your head go dizzy. You should hate this. You should despise this, but your cunt clenches again. “You like that don’t you?”

He loosens his hold, the blood rushing back quickly. It’s a new rush, crashing over the edges of your heightened senses. You feel as if every nerve ending in your body is on fire and you never want it to stop.

His rough voice presses to your ear as he caresses your exposed neck reminding you how fragile your own life is. “The little slut likes when I get rough.”

You whimper at his words, your underwear growing wetter with each passing second. His knee presses between your thigh, granting some tension to your aching core. You move your hips against it. “Not so fast, Darling.” He tightens his grip on your neck, pressing you further against the wall. “You think just because you killed him you’re in charge now?”

Another whimper falls from your lips. An involuntary tear seascapes the corner of your eyes, beginning its descent. Dave’s eyes flicker to it, head cocking to the side. His eyes look different- wild verging on insane. You should be scared, but it’s still Dave. You trust him. Then his tongue is against your cheek, wiping it away with a long, slow swipe. Your nipples pearl under your thin nightshirt.

He whispers in your ear. “I'm in charge. Do you understand?”

You nod.

“Good.”

He produces a knife out of thin air. It’s one you’ve seen before. He’s sharpened it at your kitchen counter. He brushes the tip along your collarbone. Your eyes track its every movement. It’s not enough to cut you, but enough that you can feel how sharp it is. Your heart thuds harder, but your hips move against his knee of their own accord.

He clicks his tongue, forcing the knife down in a single swift movement. You cry out, expecting to feel pain, only to find your chest exposed and your nightshirt torn down the middle. He hand gropes your breast, squeezing it like a stress ball. A gasp falls from your lips as his finger runs over your nipple.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

By your neck, he leads you in front of him to the bathroom. He kicks the door shut, pressing you against it. He produces the knife again, running it through your pajama shorts. The scraps fall to the floor, leaving you in the delicate lace pair of underwear you wore in anticipation of Dave’s arrival.

His tongue clicks appreciatively. The tip of the knife traces over the lace. You whimper, eyes falling closed. He falls to his knees.

“So pretty.” Dave presses his mouth to your clothes cunt. He works his tongue over the thin fabric, pulling it between his teeth. It’s just enough to tease and not enough to provide relief.

“Dave.” It comes out so hoarse you don’t recognize your own voice.

He grins up at you, pulling the knife through your underwear with a rehearsed flick of his wrist. They join your shorts on the floor. You’re bared to him while Dave is fully clothed.

You catch the blood in his hair, splattered on his clothes. It’s drying on your skin now. You know you should be repulsed by it, but the thought of what you did still makes you buzz to life.

“Stay right there.” He eases to his feet. “I mean it. Don’t move.”

He turns on the shower, pushing the hot water all the way. As steam starts to fill the room, Dave removes his clothing item by item. He’s not making a show of it per se, but he is commanding, concise. He pulls another knife from his belt and sets it on the counter. Your breath catches and he makes eye contact. A whisper of a smirk plays on his lips. “Standing so still for me, darling.” You squeeze your legs together, feeling the familiar squelching between your vaginal lips.

You eye the knife a moment longer, biting your lip. Something about it calls out your name. You’re not sure if you should grab it and find the nearest person to plunge it into or if you want Dave to use it with you, on you.

Dave catches the glimmer in your eyes as you eye it. A newfound excitement tugs in his belly. A whole new world is opening before him. One where he doesn’t have to hide all this shit from you, one where you might enjoy it too. You’re not shutting down after killing that man, his body cooling on your living room floor. You liked it. He likes it.

He kicks off his boots and socks. His pants follow. Your eyes travel over his body. The scars make sense now. You still don’t know what Dave does, but you know it’s bad. There’s a small band across his ankle that houses another knife. You should hate him for all of this, kick him to the curb. Instead, your cunt is soaking, and you’re not sure you’ve ever wanted him more.

He chuckles as you eye the knife on his ankle. It’s the only thing he wears other than his briefs now. His dick bulges, usually pulling your attention, put you can’t pull your eyes away from the knife.

Pulling off his underwear, Dave comes back over to you, pressing his body against yours. His teeth scrape over the veins of your neck and he bites down on your earlobe as his hand tangles in your hair.

You release a soft yell. You barely recognize the man in front of you, but it doesn’t matter.

He grips your thigh, hiking it over his hip, running his dick through your sopping cunt.

“You like my knives, Darling?”

You nod as pleasure plays like a movie across your body.

He gips your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Use your words.”

“Yes.” It barely comes out.

His brows raise in amusement. “Would you like me to use them?”

“You won’t hurt me.” You say it as a statement.

Flashes of his softer side show before he clamps them down. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Yes.” It’s almost a yell.

Without hesitation, he grabs the knife off the vanity, pressing it to your neck. “On your knees.”

You obey coming face to face with his hard cock. The knife stays against your delicate flesh.

“You know what to do, baby.”

Again, you obey, taking it into your mouth. The knife is cool against your neck, the only reminder it’s still there. You don’t know how it never pierces your flesh either by dumb luck or expert skill.

Dave’s hips thrust forward, almost triggering your gag reflex. Tears fall from your eyes. Curses sputter from Dave’s lips as he uses your mouth. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You breathe from your nose, forcing yourself to nod.

“Shit!” Dave curses, pulling out of your mouth. “I’m going to paint that pretty pussy of yours.”

Your cunt clenches as a small moan tumbles from your lips. He chuckles, hand closing around your neck once more as he ushers you into the shower.

The water is hot, burning against your skin as if it might melt your skin off. Dave holds you under the water. Your breath catches as your body screams out. The water beneath you runs red as the blood washes from your skin.

Your back hits the cool tile wall granting relief from the scalding water. He lathers soap over the parts of your body still stained red, fingers occasionally brushing under your breasts, tweaking nipples.

“You’re so beautiful, darling. Even covered in blood.”

You whimper again, senses overloaded from the trauma, the rush, the teasing. “Dave, please.”

“Please what? You have to use your words, Doll.”

Your walls constrict again, desperate to be around something. Your arms and legs are heavy with need. He’s never used that term with you before. It should be degrading. It is, but it sets another wave of pleasure. You wonder if it’s possible to orgasm virtually untouched. If it is, you’re close.

“Fuck me.”

His tongue clicks as he floats around yours, almost taunting you. He grabs your boob, hard enough it should hurt. It does a little, but pleasure overrides the pain.

“Ask nicely, Doll.”

His finger trails over your collarbone traveling between your breasts and down across your hip. Your thighs squeeze. His palm slips around as he grabs the back of your thigh, kneading it.

“I said.” His words come out like a punch. Concise. Almost sharp. “Ask. Nicely.” He pushes your thigh over his waist, forcing your supportive leg to your tiptoes.

You feel his cock near your entrance, brushing your pussy lips. You moan, hips bucking. He pushes against your neck, running your head into the tiles behind you. “You little slut. You think you can just take it.”

You gasp. “Please.”

“What do you want?”

“I want your cock inside me, Daddy.” It tumbles out of your lips before your brain catches up.

He thrusts his cock into you, sheathing himself fully, hitting the deepest parts of you. Then he’s gone, making you feel empty but only for a second until he enters you again. His hand squeezes tighter around your neck. You come for air as he continuously splits you apart thrust by thrust, pulling out almost fully each time.

Your moans are loud, drowned out by the steaming shower. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Dave pays you little mind, shows little care as he continues with a brutality you’ve never encountered, a brutality that only makes you soak his cock. He doesn’t slow. You don’t want him to. He never touches your clit, but you're propelling forward, chasing that high in a way you never have.

The pitch of your voice steps up. The spasm starts in your stomach traveling down to your core as you flutter around Dave’s cock. Your supporting leg shakes. Still, he never eases up, working you through your orgasm.

It hits you like a punch to the gut, a scream piercing the air. Your scream. Dave doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stutter. He keeps pace, chasing his own release.

With each thrust, you yell. You hear the squelching of your sopping cunt against his dick over the roar of the shower. His continuous movements extend your release until he finally buries himself inside you, coating your pussy with his cum. “Such a perfect little doll for me.”

You let out a final whimper as he pulls around, dropping your leg. Your knees buckle. You barely keep yourself upright, legs tingling and shaking.

Dave kisses your cheek. The softness causes a sense of whiplash. He glances over your body, making sure the blood is cleared from your skin and hair. He rinses the blood from his hair as your brain slowly returns to the world. You expect to be exhausted, and you are, but there’s still that low buzz deep within your body.

You killed a man. You took a life. You should feel bad. There’s a fucking body in your living room, but all you can think about is the rush. You liked it. Watching Dave, you wonder if he feels the same way. There’s no doubt to you that he’s taken lives before. You wonder if he knows how many.

The water stops. Dave dries you off with the soft bath towel. He helps you into his soft white t-shirt and tucks you into bed.

“I need to make a call.” He kisses your head and shuts himself in your bathroom. You hear him on the phone, but his words are muffled by the door.

You lay on your back, sheets cool against your hot skin. Staring at the ceiling, you can still feel the blood dripping from your hands, hear the piercing of the knife. You heart rate picks up. What would it be like to do that again? Would you feel the same rush of adrenaline? Would it feel better?

Dave comes out, tossing his cell on the nightstand and sliding under the covers. His hand covers yours.

“What about…?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s taken care of.”

You don’t ask. He probably knows people. His fingers drift over your cheeks and jaw. They skim lower, following the same path down your neck as your arteries. They feel cool against your skin, drawing patterns where you anticipate bruises tomorrow.

“Did I hurt you?”

He’s almost back to the Dave you know, soft and kind, but you still catch the edges of his dark side. He’s more of a blend now. You think you might be getting the real, true Dave now.

“No,” you shake your head. There was pain. You’ll be sore tomorrow, sport a few scrapes and bruises, but it doesn’t feel like he hurt you.

Dave kisses your forehead, fingers tracing your collarbone now. A question forms in your head, gnawing at the corners of your brain.

“Dave?”

“Hmmm?” He sees distracted, entranced as he follows his hand over your skin, skimming the tops of your breasts. Your nipples tighten making you curl your toes with a familiar tug of desire. How are you ready to go again after that?

“What if I liked it?”

His eyebrow quirks. “The sex?” he pinches your hardened nipple making you gasp.

“All of it?”

His palm stops. The pitch of his voice deepens. “All of it?”

You bite your lip, nodding.

“Use your words, Doll.” He cups your breath, teasing your nipple more. His breath is hot in your ear. “Tell me what you like.”

“I-” Can you really say this out loud? Will it blacken your soul? Or is it already charred and damned.

“Tell me.” He smacks your chest like a parent might smack their child’s hand away from an electrical outlet.

Your pussy clenches as you squeeze your legs together. He smacks your other breast in the same manner. You gasp, practically yelling out your answer. “Killing him.”

The air stands still. For a second, you expect a look of disgust to cross Dave’s face. Instead, a smirk grows. “You liked that?”

You nod, not able to say anything else. Dave climbs on top of you, kicking away the covers. He pushes his hand up your sternum, kneading your breast before running it back down. He repeats the motion, rotating between the two. Moans grow in your chest. He bites your earlobe.

“Did you like the way the knife slid into him?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dave growls in your ear.

“Yes, Daddy,” you repeat between moans. Your sopping hole drips onto the sheets below you. Dave’s motions steadily grow in intensity.

“Did my doll like the way her body felt alive? Like you absorbed that bastard's energy.”

Tears drop from your eyes. You want him again. You need him again. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Does my doll want to do it again?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You practically scream. You should be ashamed of the answer. You should be ashamed that there isn’t an ounce of hesitation in your being.

“Fuck,” Dave says, shoving your legs apart. He pushes his cock inside you again. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll make sure you will.”

Dave moves inside you. It’s not as violent, not as torturous as earlier, but it’s just as satisfying. The promise of more ignites a fire inside of you.

Dave takes you to the brink, pushing you until you pass out from exhaustion, spent, used, and sated.

“I’ll keep you by my side with my superhuman might.”

When you wake up the next morning, the body is gone. The lamp you broke is replaced and a new area rug is delicately placed in your apartment. Not a speck or splatter of blood can be found anywhere. Dave stands in the kitchen gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He cooks eggs on the stovetop and a steaming cup of coffee sits on the counter.

You wrap your arms around him. He hums. His skin is warm beneath your cheek, heart beating against your palm. “I like the rug.”

“Me too.”

“Kryptonite”

Give me alpha!Dave!!!! 🫠🫠🫠

Stay with me

Pairing: Dave York x f!Reader 

Word Count: 9.7k

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (Omegaverse), Alpha!Dave, Omega!Reader, mentions of prejudices against Omegas, canon-typical violence, suspense elements, watch me make shit up about a/b/o to suit my needs, heats, rutting, knotting, scent glands, biting, compulsion (the thing with the voice), LOTS of sex, soft!Dave gets his own warning, enemies to lovers, Penny gets VERY vague about whatever the hell the DIA does, the plot is not the point of this fic

Summary: You’re Dave York’s ‘favorite’ analyst at the DIA. You’re also an Omega. When you go into heat during an emergency situation, can the two of you keep your mutual attraction from coming to a head?

A/N: Yeah, I don’t know where this came from. I truly think @leslie-lyman and I share the same braincell; she wrote 12k of Alpha Max and then the week after I was hit with an Alpha Dave idea and here we are. Thank you Les for egging me on, tolerating the constant depraved screenshots. Thanks for @pedropascalx and @honestly-shite, my two ‘Hot for Dave’ besties who ALWAYS encourage Dave filth. Now I promise I’ll go work on my stupid book. 

Masterlist

“The intelligence shows–”

“I fucking know what the intelligence shows, I’m looking at it,” Dave barks.

It’s not that Dave York is the type of Alpha to be an asshole, to be brash, inconsiderate, even violent. It’s the job that makes him this way; the years of military training that have muted his empathetic response, for better or for worse, in favor of emotionless calculation. It helps, when making life or death decisions.

Not so much when it comes to social interaction.

The man snaps his mouth shut, and Dave grimaces inwardly. It was probably the wrong thing to say. The head of Intelligence was an Omega; even on suppressants, as nearly everyone is these days, Dave can still sniff it out. It’s considered crass for an Alpha to shout one down–it fucks with their instinct to shrink away from an Alpha’s command, and no Omega wants to appear lesser at work.

Contrary to popular belief, Dave does not take Alpha suppressants. One of the military’s more creative trainings for Alpha special forces was to throw them in a room and pipe in the scent of Omega in heat.

For weeks at a time.

That sort of forced desensitization has left Dave with an unusually strong ability to resist Omega pheromones and a tight leash on his Alpha tendencies. They only really come out in times of high stress, when his tone of voice  can come out harsher than intended, or he accidentally uses Compulsion when giving an order instead of just… giving the order. Still, he's hardly the most aggressive Alpha at the DIA, a breeding ground for ex-military types in the first place.

Dave tries again. “Who wrote this report?” 

“One of our new analysts, she–”

“I want to talk to her,” Dave says abruptly. “I have questions.”

The Omega nods slowly as he backs out of the office. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”

Dave sinks into his desk chair with a sigh. This report is the last thing he wanted to see cross his desk. No one wants to hear that the call is coming from inside the house, so to speak, and this analysis points to a mole within the DIA, feeding classified information to outside organizations and compromising all of their operations. 

A few minutes later, someone knocks on his door, and Dave looks up. “Come in,” he calls out.

The door opens, and Dave is hit with the strongest smell of Omega pheromones he’s smelled in the longest time. He raises his eyes in surprise as a woman enters his office with a stern expression. “You wanted to see me?”

Dave frowns at her for a moment, at a loss. He’s never seen an Omega off suppressants, especially in the office like this. It must be incredibly inconvenient, having everyone gawking, right? He doesn’t understand–is there a medical reason she can’t be on them? 

“Sir?” she arches one perfectly-penciled eyebrow at him.

Dave clears his throat. “You wrote this?” 

“Yes,” she answers. “Is there a problem with my analysis?”

“You misunderstand,” Dave says. “I agree with the report. I want to know how you know.”

— — — — — — 

That had been Dave’s first of what would become many interactions with the woman who is quickly becoming his ‘favorite’ analyst. She’s the only person who doesn’t mince words around him, who’s brutally honest, almost cutting in her assessments, and doesn’t seem to acknowledge or care that Dave is an Alpha. 

In turn, Dave makes an effort to treat her the same way as he would any other Alpha around the office. Not that she needs his help–she carries herself with a haughtiness that would put most Alphas to shame. He's seen her face down conference rooms full of them without batting an eye, or purposefully not stepping demurely to the side to let an Alpha pass in the hallway, as many Omegas do out of habit, resulting in a few awkward shoulder-checks that Dave has observed with an amused smile.

Most Alphas around the office don't know what to make of her, and treat her with confusion at best, and outright hostility at worst. Dave–as much as he’s tried to stop himself, or, more accurately, stop his Alpha–is starting to view her as his. The long hours she’s spent in his office going over her intelligence reports have left him feeling possessive, even territorial, over his analyst.

"She's one of those 'Out and Proud' Omegas that think they're so fucking special just because of their designation," Dave overhears in the breakroom one morning, and for the first time in a long time, he has to stop his Alpha from reacting–grabbing the man's shirt and shoving him against the wall with a growl. 

“If she’s so proud of being an Omega, why is she so fucking standoffish?” is another scathing comment Dave has heard around the office. “Her designation is Omega. If she’s as proud of it as she claims, strutting around here with all those pheromones on display, she should be more demure.”

Dave doesn’t give a shit whether she’s demure; in fact, he likes that she’s assertive. She’s a challenge, his Alpha purrs. Dave likes a challenge. 

“Can I ask a question?” Dave asks, unable to help himself one morning when she’s sitting across from him in the spare chair in his office, an open report draped over her crossed legs..

She looks up from the report questioningly.

“You don’t take suppressants,” Dave says.

“That’s not a question,” she points out, and Dave smiles.

“Why?” he asks.

“I personally believe that Omegas should be allowed to exist in public whether or not they are on suppressants,” she responds quickly, in what sounds like a very well-practiced speech. “I’m part of a group of Omegas that refuse to take them in order to show that we’re perfectly capable of existing alongside Alphas, and that we deserve to take up space.” As she speaks, her voice becomes louder, more impassioned. Her chin tips up as if she’s challenging Dave to disagree. He doesn’t.

“Of course,” Dave says. “But isn’t that… inconvenient?”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

“Is it inconvenient for me to exist in public?” she retorts with a scoff. “No, it’s not, thank you very much, and when it is, it’s because some asshole Alpha with outdated views on Omegas thinks they know something about it.”

“I don’t think that,” Dave counters. “I just mean, doesn’t it put you in danger?” 

“So I should suppress who I am instead of, y’know Alphas not being violent?” she snaps, rising to her feet.

Dave blinks up at her in silence, unsure of what to say. 

“Excuse me,” she says briskly, and walks out of the room.

That… hadn’t gone how Dave had intended.

— — — — — — 

You’re struggling to focus. The Threat Vulnerability Matrix you’re studying keeps blurring, and you blink rapidly to focus on the computer screen.

You keep thinking back to your meeting today, at the wounded expression in those pretty, dark eyes. Even after two months of working with the man, you don’t know what to make of Dave York.

Dave fucking York. An Alpha if there ever was one–abrupt, aggressive, and dominating. And yet, there’s something about him that you can’t put your finger on. He treats you the same as he treats everyone else in the office (which means he’s an asshole to you, but he’s an asshole to everyone, that’s the point). He doesn’t treat you like a subordinate, he doesn’t treat you like a piece of meat, and he doesn’t treat you like you’re made of glass–which is the worst of the three, honestly. 

There are times when the two of you are in his office and he’s grilling you incessantly about the smallest detail in your latest report, and Dave will suddenly look up and smile at you with warmth in his eyes. Why? If you examine the evidence too hard, it appears that Dave York… likes you. 

But then he has to go and do something shitty, like question your decision to be off suppressants. Dick. 

Because of your position in Intelligence, you know things about Dave York that you shouldn’t. The man isn’t just the quintessential Alpha–he’s a killer. You’ve read the classified reports, read the things he’s done in nauseating detail. He’s ruthless, violent, and unforgiving. Typical Alpha behavior. Regardless of how those pretty brown eyes and plush lips make you feel when you steal a glance at the man, you’d do well to stay far away. 

Besides, a man who is so very much an Alpha would want nothing to do with you. You know what they say about you in the office. Assertive. (That’s one of the nicer ones.) Stuck-up. Rude. A fucking bitch. You don’t fit their expectations for an Omega, and they hate it. You don’t fit in any box, really. That’s why it was so refreshing when you’d found your tribe at Omega Out Loud. You could be yourself without having to feel like you were doing something inherently wrong. You have plenty of Omega traits, sure, but you also have a lot of qualities that would be more common in a Beta, or even an Alpha. As a result, many Omegas don’t think you’re Omega enough, and Alphas generally don’t see you as an attractive mate. 

You’re a real hit on dating sites.

It’s fine–you’re too attached to your work to spend much time worrying about whether you’re mate-able. In fact, that’s where you are right now–in your cubicle at 8pm, working late. 

You’d be at home in your pajamas already, but your heat is due any day now, and you usually take a few days off leading up to it as well in order to avoid any uncomfortable situations at work. It’s a little bit more of an inconvenience, but it’s worth it to be able to feel like you’re being true to yourself. No one ever mentions the fucking side effects of suppressants: Mood swings. Weight gain. Heart problems. High blood pressure. Sexual dysfunction. Why is it always assumed that Omegas want to be on them?

An uncomfortable twinge in your abdomen reminds you of why. Oh right–your heats. As much as you hate to admit it, Dave really was right–being off suppressants can be dangerous. If you run into an Alpha right now, your twin pheromones might cause both of you to act in ways you normally wouldn’t. An Omega that’s almost in heat is a fucking beacon signal. Get it here! And during that time, you’re frustratingly susceptible to an Alpha’s influence. As the slick starts to gather between your thighs, your inhibitions lower, and you start to crave something to ease the ache–a toy, your fingers, an unsuspecting Alpha with deep brown eyes and pouty lips and wavy hair and–wait, where did that come from?

You shake your head rapidly and continue typing.

You don’t focus for very long before the building lights flicker ominously, and your computer abruptly switches off. A power surge, perhaps? Frowning, you stand up, casting your eyes around the empty floor. Weird. It’s dark outside now–you hadn’t realized how late it was getting. Well, your computer randomly turning off is as good a cue as any to hurry home to where your nest, copious amounts of snacks, and your favorite knotted toys are already waiting for you.

Grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, you head toward the nearest elevators. You almost push the ‘down’ button, but something makes you stop, your finger hovering in the air as you look up. The numbers. They’re moving. The elevators are in use, all four of them, traveling down to the first floor and then up again, heading this way. Signals in your brain start to go haywire. Something isn’t right about this. You head to the window and look down at the entrance to the building. 

It’s being swarmed by unidentified people wearing black.

You can see their assault rifles from here.

A sudden stab of pain in your core makes you double over, your fist hitting the glass of the window. Shit. Want to know one of the best ways to trigger an early heat?

Stress.

Suddenly, the symptoms hit you like a freight train. Body sweats, cramps, light-headedness, you name it. You struggle to stay upright as you watch the tide of assailants entering the building.

You have to hide.

Any Alpha will be able to scent you out behind closed doors, so you have to choose somewhere with limited points of entry. Somewhere where you can potentially create a seal where air cannot escape. What in this building could be used to create a seal? You cast your eyes around in desperation before they land on a nondescript door labeled Maintenance. You drag yourself gingerly over to the door, and open it, rifling through the shelves for something you can use. Paint thinner? Sandpaper? Bleach? Screwdriver? Caulk? 

Caulk! You grab the bottle and shut the door, applying an inelegant line of sealant to the seam. You go over it once, twice, three times, four, before the bottle is empty and you cast it aside. Honestly, if any air escapes at all, you’d be surprised. It’s not pretty, and it’s probably overkill, but you have a feeling it’s going to work. 

It’s not a moment too soon, because as another wave of equal parts nausea and arousal hits, you hear voices as the intruders step off of the elevators and into the Intelligence department. 

It’s only then that you realize you left your messenger bag–and your phone–sitting by the windows. 

— — — — —

The call comes when Dave is at the gym.

“Sir?” the voice says. “There’s been a breach.”

Thirty-six hours of preparation later, and Dave York is slipping, silent and undetected, into the DIA offices, followed by a handful of his most trusted men. He’s covered from head to toe in black clothing, his favorite gun held aloft in front of him as he moves up the stairs to Intelligence. They make quick work of dispatching the guards along the way. They always make the same mistake–appointing their weakest links as guards. Half of them barely even saw him coming. 

The main office floor is a bit more of a challenge. The open floor plan makes any offensive position vulnerable, and Dave and his team are exposed and outnumbered the moment they open the door. Still, there’s a reason this team is the best at what they do. Before long, all the intruders are down and the floor is silent once more. 

“Sweep the area,” Dave orders under his breath, not wanting to break the eerie silence. The hair on the back of his neck is standing up–something isn’t right. He can feel–wait. He sniffs the air.

“You smell that?” he asks the Alpha beside him.

“Smell what?”   

Dave shakes his head. “Never mind.”

Someone is here. And not just someone…

Dave has been completely fixated on that smell for months. He can smell it on his clothes when he leaves work, he can feel the ghost of it on his skin even after a shower, he can call it up at night when he lies awake in bed. It’s an obsession for him. He can’t stop thinking of her–’his’ analyst. 

He would know her scent anywhere.

She works here, of course, so it wouldn’t be unusual for her scent to linger on her office chair, but that’s not where Dave smells it. 

It’s coming from that door. 

Frowning, he moves over to it and shakes the handle.

Locked. 

Holding his gun loosely–just in case it’s a trick–Dave steps back and slams his foot into the door.

— — — — — 

Can someone die of arousal? 

It seems like a stupid thing to ask, but as the time in your self-imposed prison ticks on, the question keeps coming around to haunt you. Each cramp is becoming more and more painful, each wave of nausea stronger, the sensation of emptiness more and more unbearable, to the point that your entire body physically aches and your hands are shaking.

You’ve tried to seek relief with your own fingers, but without a knotted toy filling you up, all it does is provide a seconds-long moment of temporary relief before the ache returns, stronger than before. You’ve managed to make a little nest for yourself out of some (hopefully) clean towels and shop rags, and you’ve discarded your pants and underwear as you try fruitlessly to work yourself through it. 

You can’t die from an unassisted heat… can you? 

You lose track of time. You know it’s probably been hours, because you’re also becoming incredibly hungry, but how much? Eight hours? Twelve? Twenty-four? It’s hard to mark time with no stimulus, no outward change that you can mark.

You fight down a frightened sob. This isn’t fair–you’re trapped in a maintenance closet trying to silently work through a heat unaided by any toys while people with guns are trying to hack into your systems. You can hear them trying–and they’ve as of yet been unsuccessful. If only you weren’t an Omega, you could stop them, somehow. If you were a Beta, or even better, an Alpha, you wouldn’t be shaking and dizzy from arousal in a storage closet, you’d be able to escape, to alert someone, to try and do something to thwart them yourself. 

Instead, you’re stuck. 

You think of what some of your fellow activists at Omega Out Loud would say. Your Omega is part of you. Be proud to be an Omega. Wear your designation with pride. You fight down a little moan as the cramps start to hit. It's relatively easy to embrace it in a work setting, in front of a bunch of Alphas who think they know better simply because of what they are. It’s much more difficult when your heat is interfering with a life or death situation.

You drift in and out of awareness, alternating between not-really-sleeping, rubbing your clit frantically, and being curled in a ball shaking with silent tears. 

Maybe you should go on suppressants, after all. 

You’ve completely lost track of what the hell is happening outside of the four walls of your prison when the door handle suddenly rattles, and a curse is muttered. Oh fuck. Oh shit. You’re in no condition to defend yourself. Even if you grab a spare hammer and hurl it at the intruder, your shaking hands and dizzy head all but guarantee you’ll miss. You can barely even hold the thing, much less throw it with all of your strength with the intent to disable your foe. 

Bam! 

The loud, jarring sound of a boot connecting with wood makes you drop the hammer anyway, sending you scooting backwards. 

Bam!

That kick dislodges most of the caulk that you’d applied around the seam of the door.

CRACK!

The third and final kick sends the door flying inward, and you scramble back into the corner at the sight of the man entering the room gun-first, swallowing the nausea and shame at being so utterly helpless during your heats. This is what your Omega turns you into, you think with a frustrated sob. You’re barely able to move, much less defend yourself, and you hate it. You’d been hit with the man’s scent abruptly when the seal on the door broke. An Alpha. He’s an Alpha, he’s found you, and you are so fucked. You look up at him, some sort of plea for mercy on your lips, before you stop. 

“D-Dave?” you whimper, your voice hoarse.

Dave’s eyebrows pinch together, his mouth pursing into a surprised oh as he takes in the scene–a makeshift nest of towels, the scent of Omega heavy in the air, and you, half-clothed and cowering in the corner of the room, one hand over your abdomen as it cramps with pain, the other held aloft in a gesture of surrender. 

“Oh my God,” he murmurs. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Him. Why does it have to be him? Dave fucking York. You can smell him, and to your utter disgust, you want him, your Omega fighting for any kind of relief, from any source.

No. You bite back a grunt of pain. “Get away from me,” you cry out through clenched teeth, your voice wavering. 

“How long have you been trapped in here?” Dave asks, ignoring your desperate command.

“Get–please,” you try again. “I can’t–”

“Stop.” 

It’s a command, from an Alpha. So you do. Your mouth closes abruptly, but you don’t stop glaring at Dave defiantly.

“How long have you been here?” he tries again.

“F-few days?” you murmur. Another flare of pain courses through you, and you gasp, doubling over, clutching at your abdomen. “Fuck!”

“And how long have you been in heat?” Dave asks, his voice softening.

“I was–It was already coming on when–-when they got here,” you answer.

“And you stayed hidden?” His eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Door…” you say weakly. “I put… caulk.” You gesture weakly at the empty bottle on the floor by the entrance. Dave purses his lips, looking impressed.

Your heat had been almost unbearable before, and now that an Alpha is here in the room, it almost feels like you’ll die if you don’t get relief. A few tears course their way down your cheeks as another cramp hits. 

“Do you not have anything to–?”

“No!” you cry out. “Does it fucking look like I do?”

The pain hits a crescendo, and you curl into a ball. “Shit, shit shit–” 

“Omega.” The word is barely audible, Dave says it so gently, but your Omega sure as hell hears it. You stiffen, quieting.

“It’s only going to get worse.”

Your temper flares again. “Are you just going to–hnng–stand there and… p-point out the obvious?” you grit out through the pain.

Dave doesn’t respond. He watches you for a few moments longer, then, with what appears to be herculean effort, starts to back away. 

Your Omega breaks.

“Apha, please,” you whimper, before you can catch yourself. 

It’s the phrase he’s waiting for; Dave suddenly at your side, lifting you into his arms and placing you gently back into your makeshift nest. 

“Listen to me,” he says quietly, “I don’t know if you’ve gone through a heat without help, artificial or not, but I’ve seen it used as a torture technique before, and I’ve never seen anyone who hasn’t broken.”

“Oh god–” you start to cry.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Dave urges. “I’m going to help you.” He reaches out to touch your arm, and you flinch away with fear, eyes wide. He looks pained, but he stops, his hand hovering just above your skin. 

“You don’t need to be afraid.” It’s not an order. The man puts zero compulsion into his voice, and yet you find yourself relaxing under his gaze. 

“Can I touch your arm now?” 

You stare incredulously at Dave. His hand is hovering inches from your arm. As an Alpha, he must have ironclad restraint in order to stop himself from simply reaching out and taking an Omega in heat, but the only outward sign of discomfort you can see is a vein on the side of his neck. His eyes are black pools, boring into yours, but his lips are soft and relaxed. He remains patient, waiting for your consent. For your trust. Slowly, you start to nod. 

Dave’s hand on your forearm sends a wave of relief coursing through you, and you crumple, slumping against him, your hands grabbing uselessly in your desperation. 

“Shh, okay,” he murmurs into your ear. “I’m going to help you. Slow down.”

“Please, it hurts–” 

“I know,” he says, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Stay with me.”

“Dave…” 

“I’m here.” 

You feel his hand gently sliding up your inner thigh to your weeping cunt, and your hips buck of their own accord at the feel of Alpha’s touch. A finger slips inside, then two fingers, and it already feels far better than you were able to do yourself, making you sob in relief. 

“Good girl,” Dave soothes you as he starts fucking you slowly with his fingers. “Good Omega. I’m going to make you feel better, okay? I’ll make it stop hurting.”

You nod and bury your head in his chest, breathing in his scent. It’s been so long without relief that you come almost immediately, clenching around his fingers and causing another wave of slick to gather on his fingers.

“That’s it, fuck, you’re so wet, Omega. Can you do it again for me? You went far too long without any relief, honey. You’re going to need more than one for it to stop hurting.”

You nod in agreement. Dave’s fingers don’t let up, thrusting in and curling up against your sweet spot over and over again while you whimper and babble nonsense into his chest. 

“Good girl, I’ve got you,” Dave keeps talking you through the unbearable heat. “Just relax, I’m going to take care of you. It’ll stop,” he soothes. “It will. I’ll let you come as many times as it takes.”

You come twice, then three times, on Dave’s fingers, but it’s not enough. Now that you have this, you want more–your Omega needs more. 

“Alpha, please, I need–” 

“What do you need, sweet thing?” Dave asks. “You need my tongue?”

You shake your head rapidly. “I need–she needs–oh, fuck.” You duck your head in embarrassment.

“Tell me.” It’s a compulsion, but you’re not sure if Dave had intended for it to be. His Alpha instincts have to be screaming at him right now. You aren’t sure how he’s remaining so incredibly calm. He grimaces at his own tone, but doesn’t say anything further. 

“Your knot, Alpha.” Even if he hadn’t ordered you, you would have told him anyway. 

Dave hums low in his throat. “You need more?” he asks. “You need another finger?” You feel another one of his thick digits slide into your heat, and you moan wantonly, but it’s not enough. You need him. 

“No,” you whimper. “It’s not enough. I want you.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Dave murmurs, shaking his head against your temple. 

“Why?” you whine.

“You’re in heat,” he says simply. “You’re not in your right mind–neither of us are. You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

You fall apart again around three of Dave’s fingers with a strangled gasp and a wild buck of your hips, but your Omega reminds you that you’re empty, empty, empty…

“Alpha, please,” you say again. “I want it, I do. And… she needs it,” you admit, unable to meet Dave’s eyes. “I–I feel like I’m not going to get through this without it. W-Without you.”

“You don’t understand,” Dave says, his voice low and dangerous. “This is already very difficult. I’m already holding myself back. If I give you my knot, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back any longer.”

“Good. I don’t care. I don’t want you to hold back,” you say immediately. “It’s been days, I let it get too bad, I’m too far gone.”

Dave growls low in his throat. “I’ve kept this at bay for years,” he grits out. “I don’t know what will happen if I let it go. I’ll lose control. I’ll hurt you.”

Yes, your Omega cries. Yes, yes, yes—

You realize you’re saying it out loud as well when Dave interrupts your last ‘yes’ with his lips crashing into yours with a pained cry. 

Everything happens quickly after that. The rest of your clothing is discarded, along with Dave’s, and the two of you are molded together in the nest of blankets and pillows. He hisses when you reach out to grasp his cock, and you suddenly realize why he’s concerned about hurting you. If this is the size of his cock, what will his knot feel like? Your eyes flick up to him in trepidation, but Dave shakes his head, his jaw tense.

“You asked for this, little Omega,” he says softly.

Dave enters you in one, swift thrust. 

You throw your head back as he breaches you–far bigger than his fingers, both longer and thicker. It’s already too much, but your Omega finally feels sated after days of the burning sensation of being so incredibly empty. 

Your hands scrabble for purchase on Dave’s shoulders, and he doesn’t slow down, punching into you again and again and again until you’re gasping for air. He looks down at you with a smirk, watching you struggle–trying to squirm away from him and push yourself further onto him at the same time. 

“Come.”

This time, the compulsion is purposeful. Dave throws all of his intent behind the command, and your Omega obeys, clenching around his cock as he fucks you through it. 

“Good,” his Alpha purrs. “Again.”

You gasp in surprise as another climax follows, your Omega unable to disobey, even though the overstimulation is almost painful. 

You can feel Dave’s cock starting to swell as his knot rises. Tears are already squeezing out of the corners of your eyes as the pressure increases, and Dave’s nose scrapes against the swollen gland on your neck. Bite it, your Omega urges. Bite it, bite it, bite it–

“One more time,” Dave urges, dropping the edge from his voice. “You can do it. One more time for me, honey.”

You immediately shake your head. “T-Too much,” you whimper. 

“I need you to come while you take my knot,” Dave insists. “It will make your heat go away faster.”

“I-I don’t know if I can,” you admit.

“Don’t make me do it,” Dave says, his lips quirking upward with amusement, but you already know he’s going to.

His lips still brushing against your gland, Dave gives you one more command.

“Omega… come.”

Your back arches with the force of it, clamping down on Dave’s knot as it grows. Dave’s teeth start to scrape against the skin of your neck, and you throw your head back in invitation without thinking. Bite it bite it bite it—

At the last second, Daves mouth moves and he sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder instead as he comes with a deep groan. You sink with a mixture of relief and disappointment. Relief that Dave, a man you hardly know, didn’t accidentally mate you in the heat of the moment, but disappointment because your Omega very much wanted to be bitten.

You can’t focus on either emotion for long because Dave’s knot hurts in a way that you didn’t expect, even knowing the size of his cock. You whimper and squirm, starting to panic at your inability to move, but Dave is there, talking to you quietly and soothingly.

“I know,” he murmurs, his voice far softer than it had been before. “I know, it’s a lot. It’s a lot, but you can take it. Look at you,” he purrs. “You’re all stretched out on my knot. It’s hard, huh? I told you I would hurt you.”

Your Omega is blissfully silent for the first time in days, but you’re starting to wonder whether you’d make a mistake in asking for his knot. You bury your head in Dave’s shoulder as the tears come.

“Breathe,” Dave instructs. “Breathe, little Omega.”

You think you might sleep. You drift in and out of awareness, only able to focus on the overwhelming feeling of fullness. It feels as if Dave’s knot will never go down, that you’ll be swollen with it forever. Eventually, it starts to hurt less, but you can’t tell if the knot is actually receding, or if you’re getting used to the feeling of him stretching you past your limits. 

When the little crease of discomfort on your forehead goes away and you relax into him fully, Dave starts to talk.

“What on earth are you doing here?” he asks quietly.  

“I was staying late,” you answer. “My–I knew my heat was coming in a few days, and I was trying to get caught up on work before I took a few days off for it.” Then they came, and I–I couldn’t evacuate the building,” you answer. “I misjudged. I was already so close to being in heat; I obviously couldn’t be in public. I hid myself in here and sealed the doors.”

“Why here?” Dave asks, amused. “Why a storage closet?”

“That’s where the caulk was,” you murmur. “I was running out of time.” 

Dave hums and rubs his nose along your scent gland again, making you shiver pleasantly. “Plus, no windows,” he points out. “Less ways for the scent to get out.”

“Exactly,” you say. 

“Smart girl,” Dave praises. 

“I didn’t really have a plan beyond that,” you admit. “I didn’t have any of my toys, I was just trying to get through it with my fingers, and it wasn’t enough–I felt like I was going to die.”

“Shh,” Dave whispers. “You did so well, my brave girl.”

When his knot goes down enough for him to finally slip out of you, Dave announces that he needs to get you out of here.

“You haven’t had anything to eat in here,” he observes. “And I’m not going to let you go through the rest of your heat hungry, in a storage closet.”

“I can’t move, they’ll know, they’ll see–”

“Oh, honey,” Dave tuts. “They’re all dead.”

— — — — — — — — 

Dave half-carries her through the office–where his team is cleaning up the aftermath of their operation tonight.

She flinches slightly at the sight of the bodies scattered about the floor, but otherwise barely reacts. She’s still somewhat delirious, and Dave can understand why. If the reports are correct, the building has been occupied since Thursday. It’s now Saturday night. He’s never seen an Omega go three days into a heat completely unassisted. She must have been in terrible pain, and yet she stayed quiet enough to go undetected, suffering through her heat in silence. 

Fuck, he’s so attracted to her.

The Alphas on his team whip their heads around when they detect the scent of an Omega in heat, but with one look from Dave–his hand curled possessively around her and his eyes black coals–they avert their eyes and go back to their work. 

They make it to Dave’s car without incident. 

“Tell me where you live,” Dave orders quietly, pulling up the map on his phone.

She recites her address in a monotone, her eyes falling shut as she tips her head back on the headrest. She must be exhausted–but another wave will come sooner rather than later, Dave is sure of it. 

She dozes while he drives, and he hates to wake her when they arrive, but he shakes her shoulder gently.

“We’re here.”

She blinks slowly, looking at Dave with parted lips and hooded eyes. “Alpha…” she murmurs.

So it’s starting again.

“We need to get you some food,” Dave says, getting out of the car and coming around to her side to lift her up. This time, he pulls her properly into his arms, inhaling her scent as he brushes his nose against her temple. 

It’s hard not to lay her down right inside the door and give her his knot again with the little whimpers and moans she’s making, but Dave grits his teeth and walks into her kitchen instead, setting her down on the countertop. 

“It aches,” she whimpers, grabbing onto Dave’s wrist like a vice. 

“I know,” Dave answers softly. “But you’re eating first, it’s been three days.”

“But I need–” 

“No.” Dave puts all of his intent behind the word, and not just for her. It’s for him, a reminder to himself that he has a responsibility to take care of her and not just rut into her over and over until his Alpha is sated. Except she’s looking at him like he’d just slapped her across the face, and he realizes he’d probably been too harsh. “What can I get you to eat?” he asks, opening cabinets at random until he finds the glassware. 

“I’ve got heat snacks in there,” she says, waving her arm at a cabinet behind him. He retrieves a few granola bars and fills the glass with water, and returns to her.

“Eat all of these, drink two full glasses, and then–” Dave cuts himself off, clearing his throat. 

Even after he’s already filled her, it feels awkward to say it out loud. And then I’ll fuck you again. They both know what the end of the sentence was going to be, so he doesn’t bother continuing, and she occupies herself with the granola bars, taking big, enthusiastic bites interspersed with long swigs of water as if she hasn’t eaten in days. She hasn’t, Dave reminds himself. God, she’s strong. Whoever had said Omegas were the weaker sex were imbeciles–she went through a hostage situation with no food for three days, having to stay completely silent during an unassisted heat that must have been intolerable by the time he’d found her. 

The moment she’s done with the third granola bar, Dave gently grabs her face with both hands and presses his lips to hers. 

“Oh!” she makes a muffled sound of surprise. “Alpha–”

“Dave,” he corrects. “Don’t call me that–call me Dave.”

“Dave,” she says immediately, her wide eyes searching his face.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Fuck, like that.”

“Dave, please,” she whimpers. 

“Hang on–” Dave grabs three more granola bars and two bottles of gatorade from the fridge. “You’re eating again right after,” he announces. 

“Yes, Alpha,” she drawls lazily, a small, dazed smile on her face, already drunk on her own pheromones. It’s incredibly cute. 

She enters her bedroom with a relieved sigh, moving forward and collapsing onto her bed, where a much larger and more comfortable nest is waiting for her. For them. She scrubs her hands over her face and lets out a groan that has less to do with pleasure and more with the relief of being somewhere where she feels safe. Dave feels off-balance for a moment, unsure if he has a place here, but then she looks over at him with a question in those sultry, half-lidded eyes. Alpha?

Dave smiles and walks forward, climbing over her on the bed and pressing his body against hers. Omega. She lets out a little gasp at the contact and arches into him, seeking more friction. 

“Patience,” he scolds teasingly. 

“Been three days,” she growls, clenching her teeth. “You don’t get to tell me to be patient.”

“Touché.” Dave grinds down on her roughly, making her cry out. “Then you won’t be opposed if I give this to you exactly how I want?”

“Depends on how you want it,” she retorts, although she’s already pulling at her shirt. 

“I’ll show you how I want it,” Dave grunts, sitting up to yank her pants and underwear off in one swift motion. “Turn around,” he orders. “Get on your knees for me.”

She’s nodding rapidly, her breath coming in pants as she obeys. Dave gives in to the temptation to grab her cheeks and spread her apart, showing him every inch of her glistening pussy. 

“Fucking perfect,” he growls. “You’re so wet; you’ve been waiting so long for this, honey,” he says, his voice honey-thick. “Let me give you what you’ve been needing all this time.”

Despite his posturing, Dave still enters her slowly, giving her plenty of time to adjust to his size. He rubs her lower back soothingly until he’s buried to the hilt and she’s letting out those pretty little whimpers that tell him she wants him to move. 

Well, Dave thinks with a smirk. He can do that. He pulls almost all the way out, then pushes back in, giving her his cock in long, hard strokes that immediately send her to her elbows as her arms give out. She moans wordlessly into the blankets, taking every punishing thrust with an arched back, her hands clutching uselessly at the sheets. When she starts pushing back onto him, Dave grabs her cheeks again and spreads her open the same way, using his grip to pull her back onto his cock. The new angle makes her wail and he feels her core starting to tighten around him.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Come on, come for me again. Come for me and then I’ll give you my knot, little Omega.”

She keens.

“Oh, you like that?” Dave teases. “Desperate little Omega wants my knot?”

She nods frantically into the covers, and Dave’s smile falters. 

“It hurt you before, silly thing. It made you cry. You sure you want that again?”

She mumbles something unintelligible into the sheets.

“I didn’t hear that, honey, say it again.”

“L-Liked it,” she pants.

It’s Dave’s undoing. His knot starts to swell as fucks into her once, twice, three times, and stills as the pressure in his cock reaches a breaking point and he’s fully seated within her.

“Good girl,” Dave whispers as it stretches her. “Good girl, you’re taking it so well. My good girl–my Omega.”

She whimpers and squirms just like the last time, a few more tears of discomfort escaping her eyes. Dave keeps murmuring to her, watching her face intently, seeing her lower lip tremble even as she sinks with palpable relief. Her Omega needs it, even if it’s too much, and his Alpha is practically triumphant that she wants his knot even though it hurts her. 

Still catching his breath, Dave lowers down and pulls her slightly on her side so that they’re both resting flush against each other, his knot still pulsing deep inside her. He places his hand on her lower abdomen, and fuck, he can feel the swell of his knot against his palm. He drops his forehead to her shoulder and hisses a curse under his breath. Down, Alpha. Dave swallows and presses a kiss to her skin before reaching for the food.

“Have some more,” Dave says, handing her a granola bar. 

She bites her lip, fighting down a whimper of discomfort. “RIght now? While we’re–”

“Please?” Dave asks softly. “Do it for me.” 

She finishes off all of the snacks he’d brought, plus the two gatorades, while his knot still pulsed thick and hot, refusing to go down. Good. The longer he fills her, the longer she’ll go without needing him again, and she can get some much needed rest.

“You should sleep,” Dave says.

“Mm,” she grunts. Her eyes are already closed.

Dave closes his eyes too, pulling her closer still. Just before sleep pulls him under, she speaks again.

“D-Dave?”

“Hmm?”

“Is this—I–” she swallows thickly. “I’ve never had an Alpha help me through a heat, and–fuck,” she cuts herself off again. 

“Where’s the assertive woman who yelled at me because I was ‘reading the data wrong?’” Dave teases.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. “Stupid Omega shit has me all… discombobulated.”

Dave chuckles. “Thought you were proud of being an Omega,” he counters. “That you deserve to take up space. Isn’t this part of taking up space?”

She’s quiet for a moment. 

“Damn you,” she whispers. “You used my words against me.”

“Tell me what you were going to say,” Dave says, fighting tooth and nail against his Alpha to keep the compulsion out of his voice. 

“Is this–is this just because of wh-what we are?” she asks, her voice wavering. “Our biology? Or is there–”

No, Dave immediately thinks to himself. No, no, no. Never just that. He opens his mouth to speak and then, inexplicably, loses his nerve. He can’t remember the last time he didn’t say what was on his mind, no matter the circumstance, but he finds himself second-guessing the words before he says them. He never second-guesses.

“Do you want it to be just that?” he asks softly.

“I–” she takes a shaky breath. “I don’t want that,” she says. “I don’t want this to just be scratching some primal urge, I want–” 

Frustratingly, she doesn’t finish, but Dave has the answer he needs already.

Tightening his hold around her, he presses his lips against her scent gland when he speaks. 

“It was always just you.”

— — — — — — 

You aren’t sure what wakes you. It could be the overwhelming need to pee after two large glasses of water and two gatorades. It could be your Omega starting to claw her way to the surface again, letting her desires be known. You’re still in your heat, after all. Or even still, it could be the fact that it feels as if a goddamn furnace is at your back, beads of sweat starting to pool between your shoulder blades as your body tries, in vain, to lower the temperature. 

It could also be the snoring in your ear. 

You smile to yourself as you look around the room. It’s daylight now–you must have slept through the night, although you don’t know what time Dave had rescued you, or when you got home. 

His cock had slipped out of you sometime during the night, and your hips shift back against him reflexively. You need it again. You need Alpha.

At the feel of your ass pressing back against his cock, Dave stirs, grunting softly as he wakes. 

Dave. Had you imagined last night? Not the rutting–the ache between your thighs assures you that was real. But what came after… It was always just you. Is that truly what he had said? You can still hear it–the exact timbre of his voice, the way it vibrated low in his chest, the feel of his lips forming the words on your scent gland, but it still doesn’t feel real. It was always just you. 

The subject of your ruminations lets out another soft grunt, his hand coming to your hips, guiding you back against him, then again, and again, until you’re rocking rhythmically together.

“That’s it,” Dave urges, his voice thick and gravelly with sleep. “Does someone need me again, little Omega?”

“Yes,” you grumble, still half asleep even though your Omega is very much awake.

“Ask nicely.”

“Alpha, I need you,” you pout, pushing back against Dave.

“Try again.”

“Alph–” 

Dave growls low in his throat.

“Dave,” you breathe, and his grip immediately tightens on your hip. “Fuck, Dave please. I need you.”

“Me?” he asks, although the tip of him is already lining up with your cunt.

“You,” you answer, and Dave slides home.

This time, your coupling is unhurried–although Dave’s grip is still rough and bruising, his thrusts still deep and overwhelming, but his lips are soft and tender on your neck, his teeth scraping lightly against your scent glands until you’re a panting mess.

Dave sucks his own fingers into his mouth and reaches down to rub little circles on your clit. 

“Poor thing,” he murmurs, and although it’s meant to be condescending, you can still hear the hint of genuine feeling in his words. “Going to be sore after this is over.”

You nod in agreement but push back harder on his cock.

“Fuck, you perfect thing,” Dave groans, his teeth biting down slightly on your gland–not enough to leave a mark, to properly mate you, but enough to feel his intent. “Fuck, I want–oh, honey–” 

“Please,” you whine. “Yes–yesyesyes–do it, please.” 

Dave’s thrusts speed up as he makes a broken sound of pleasure into your neck. You cock it to the side, inviting him in. Bite it, your Omega urges for the second time during this heat. Bite it, bite it–

For the second time, Dave’s mouth finds the meat of your shoulder instead, sinking his teeth into your skin with a rough groan. His knot swells again and you hiss at the mixture of pleasure and pain. It’s more of a stretch than any toy you’ve ever tried, but it seems that you’re finally adjusting to it after the third time. Hell, you don’t even cry. 

Dave’s hand finds yours and slides it sensually down your body–over your breasts and down to the soft swell of your stomach.

“Feel me there?” he asks, pressing down slightly.

Your breath catches. You can–there’s an unnatural fullness to your belly, a hard bump deep inside where Dave is filling you with his seed, over and over and over. Suddenly, your Omega rears her head, overcome with the idea of being filled, of being his, being Dave’s, of being his Omega and not just someone that he’s helping through a heat.

“Dave, why–” you begin. “Why didn’t you–” your hand moves up to your scent gland, where Dave had chosen not to mark you in the heat of the moment.

“I want you to want it,” Dave replies softly.

“I do–”

“I want you,” he repeats, firmer, “to want it. You. Nothing else.”

An avalanche of recent memories crashes through your mind. Don’t call me that–call me Dave. It was always just you. I want you to want it. 

He’s been telling you all this time: it’s not just an Alpha and Omega thing. It’s him–it’s you. The both of you.

“Dave,” you whisper, a shaky smile appearing on your face. “It was always just you, too.” 

Dave buries his head between your shoulder blades, but doesn’t say anything further. Finally, he says, “What would you like for breakfast?”

You giggle at the sudden shift in tone. “What?”

“You can’t just have granola bars all weekend,” Dave argues. “I’m making you breakfast.”

“Are you asking me how I like my eggs?” you say with a playful wink.

“Tell me, or I’m making you what I fucking feel like making you,” Dave grumbles, apparently annoyed with your silly joke. 

You are still very hungry. “I like pancakes,” you offer. “And sausage. And bacon. And eggs, any style really. I’ve got toast, and peanut butter, and–”

Dave’s hand comes down on one cheek with a satisfying slap, and you squeal in surprise.

“Shut up,” he grumbles–with absolutely no malice in his voice. “When my knot goes down, I’m making you whatever the fuck I want.”

‘Whatever he wants’ turns out to be a little bit of everything–pancakes, sausage, bacon, eggs, toast, some frozen fruit that he found in the back of your freezer–all prepared while you sit at the kitchen table, feeling a little silly, drinking the coffee that had also been made by Dave.

“Eat up,” he says, putting a heaping plate down in front of you.

You gape up at him. “You didn’t need to–”

“Eat.” Dave throws a hint of compulsion into his voice, but it has a playful tone to it–as if he’s doing it only to tease you. You used to hate being compelled, but you find that, with Dave, you actually like it. He always seems to use it in a way that’s caring–like when you’re being obstinate for no reason and he’s had enough, or when you’re feeling too overwhelmed to accept the help that he’s freely giving. 

You’re starving. You dig into the plate with gusto, devouring every bit until nothing remains. You smile up at him.

“That wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?” Dave asks, a smile teasing at his lips.

“No, Alpha,” you pout playfully.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Good. I think–I think it’s lightening up,” you say. “It doesn’t feel quite as urgent this morning.”

“Good,” Dave says. “It’ll probably be over before the day is up.”

“It’s been a hell of a heat,” you say with a sardonic laugh. “Not sure I ever want to repeat those first few days ever again.”

“What about the last few?” Dave quirks one eyebrow at you.

You duck your head, smiling shyly. “Remains to be seen.”

Dave huffs a laugh through his nose. “You’re hard to please.”

“Am I?” 

“Mmhmm,” he grunts, stepping closer. “I need more practice.”

“Your knot just went down,” you protest, swatting his chest.

“I could go again,” Dave counters.

“Well I can’t,” you grumble. 

“No,” Dave agrees, giving you a far-too-tender kiss on the forehead. “You can’t.”

Instead, you spend the morning curled up on the couch, reading a book with your legs draped over Dave’s lap. His own choice is propped against your knees, his free hand resting on your thigh. He glances at you every so often, although you pretend not to notice. Your mind starts to wander as you read, and you start wondering about whether Dave has ever helped anyone through a heat before, whether he’s marked anyone before, whether he’ll want to see you when the fog clears and the two of you are back at work.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Dave remarks wryly.

“I’m reading,” you say quickly.

“No, you’re not.”

“Have you ever done this before?” you ask.

“Nope, I’m a virgin,” Dave drawls. You roll your eyes.

“Helped an Omega through their heat,” you clarify. “You know what I meant.”

Dave nods. “A few times, mostly out of necessity.” He looks over at you. “You’ve really never gone through your heat with an Alpha?”

You shake your head. “Believe it or not, I’m not much of a catch,” you deadpan. “At least, not to an Alpha. I’ve been with Betas, mostly.”

“Not a catch?”

“I know you know what the Alphas say about me around the office,” you tell him. “It’s pretty much the same everywhere else, too.”

“They’re idiots,” Dave remarks.

You stare at him challengingly. “What do you think?”

Dave is silent for a few beats, the two of you watching each other, apparently waiting for the other to snap.

“I think it’s time for lunch.”

“Dave!”

“I think you’re incredible, is that what you want to hear?” Dave says, his voice rising in volume. “Do you want to know how many times I’ve gone home with your scent on my skin and fucked my hand, wishing it was you? Do you know how fucking hard it is not to mark you as mine?”

Your mouth falls open at the outburst. There are a hundred things you could say–I like you, let’s go on a date when this is over, will you stay until tomorrow, can we go back to bed–-but the thing that comes out of your mouth is, “Do it.”

Dave searches your face with a small frown. “You understand what that would mean?”

You nod. “I want it.”

With surprising speed, Dave grabs you and pulls you properly into his lap, so that your legs are on either side of his hips and he’s pulling you down on him, kissing you messily.

“Not gonna make it to the fucking bed,” Dave mumbles against your skin as he hastily pulls out his cock. “Any objections to that?”

You shake your head. “I want it here.”

“Good girl.” 

It’s frantic–the two of you grasping, panting, fighting to get closer. Your nails dig into Dave’s back and he groans low in his throat. He guides your hips, helping you fuck yourself on him, slamming you down on his cock over and over again.

“Tell me you meant it,” Dave growls.

“Meant…?” you repeat in a daze.

Dave licks your scent gland rather than giving a verbal response.

Suddenly, you’re very clear-headed. The brain fog associated with your Omega taking over during a heat immediately dissipates, and while your Omega is very much along for the ride, it’s all you when you open your mouth to speak. 

“Yes, Dave.”

Dave grips your neck roughly and jerks your head to the side, baring you to him. He inhales deeply, scenting you one last time before his teeth sink sharply into your gland.

The pleasure is explosive. Dave has spent the last two days showing you exactly how good your heat can be with an Alpha, but no orgasm so far has compared to how it feels with Dave’s teeth buried in your scent gland. You buck helplessly against him as he holds you still, the pleasure-pain of the bite and his growing knot making you dizzy and weak. It seems to have a similar reaction on Dave–he’s lost in it, groaning loudly, his face buried in your neck and his hands pulling you down on his knot, seating himself even deeper.

Dave’s teeth don’t release from your gland until his knot swells to its largest and he’s filling you with his seed yet again. His lips drag from the throbbing bite mark up to claim your lips, smearing the little tinge of blood on your neck up to your mouth. It’s feral, it’s depraved, and you love it. 

“Mine,” Dave growls against your lips. “Mine, mine, Omega.”

“Don’t call me that,” you tease with a watery smile, throwing Dave’s request back at him.. “Call me by my name.”

Dave does, murmuring it over and over as you come down from your high. You realize you’re trembling with the overwhelming release of pheromones, and Dave makes soft shushing noises, rubbing up and down your back to soothe you as you slump into his chest. 

“I can’t believe we did that,” you say with a giddy laugh after you’ve calmed down.

Dave hums softly in response. “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I met you.”

“No, you didn’t,” you argue back. “You just grilled me about my reports for thirty minutes.”

“Fair,” Dave agrees. “Maybe it was the second time I saw you.”

“I called you an idiot that time,” you remind him. “You read the fucking graph wrong–”

“I remember,” Dave grumbles. “You don’t need to remind me.”

“That’s when you wanted me as a mate,” you say skeptically.

Dave pulls back, arching one eyebrow in challenge. “Problem?”

Your face slowly spreads into a smile. “Not at all.”

— — — — — —

Six Months Later

“As you can see from the data, the threat of attack has decreased from 42 to 37 percent, which–”

“Actually,” someone across the crowded conference room interrupts, “I think that can be attributed to a number of factors, including–.”

“Are you… are you attempting to explain my own reporting to me?” she asks, raising her eyebrows at the Alpha. 

The man glances over at Dave nervously, and Dave can see the fear in his eyes. He’s just insulted his mate, and he expects Dave to come rushing to her defense. 

Instead, Dave crosses his arms, leans back in his chair with a neutral expression, and waits.

“What are you looking at him for?” his mate snaps. “Look at me. I’m giving the report.”

The other Alpha jumps, tearing his eyes from Dave, whose eyes are now glimmering with amusement. 

“Sorry, ma’am,” he mumbles, looking down at the conference table. 

“Let’s continue,” she says, stealing a fond look back at Dave before turning back to the presentation.

ACK! This was amazing! 🤩 Absolutely loved all the riddles!

Riddles

18+ account - minors do not interact

dave york x f!reader

Word Count: 3600ish+

Rating: E Summary: You realize your husband may not be who you think he is (the most typical Dave York summary) - no kiddos in this universe and Dave was never married to Carol.

Warning: established relationship, teasing, flirting, praise, dirty talk, pet names, fingering, semi-public smut (private balcony opera box baby!!) smutty flashbacks

Random Comment(s):  I know nothing about the Opera and Vienna. Researching this made me feel like my boyfriend needs to take me to this hotel. Right? Readers dress was inspired by Lupita Nyong'o’s 2014 Oscar Dress. Also, the riddles I use in this story were TOTALLY leveraged from the world of Google. There is a Chuck Bass quote in this story, you’ll recognize it when you see it.

xx

Vienna, Austria

Dave had surprised you with tickets to Vienna for your birthday. He knew that it had been a dream of yours to attend the Vienna State Opera since you were a little girl. He had truly outdone himself by booking a suite in the Hotel Sacher Wien. The suite stretched across much of the top floor allowing you to enjoy the comfort and amenities of the hotel, but with privacy and peacefulness. The first day you got here your jaw dropped when you saw the top-floor views. As you stepped out on your patio, you were greeted with stunning panoramic views of the cityscape. You could see iconic landmarks such as St. Stephen's Cathedral with its towering spires, the Danube River winding its way through the city, shimmering in the sunlight, and the majestic Schönbrunn Palace surrounded by lush gardens. The city skyline stretched out before you, dotted with elegant buildings and bustling streets. You couldn’t believe that Dave stayed in places like this all the time, you couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. Your job barely required any travel as you worked for a non-profit foundation in Boston, but Dave traveled extensively all around the world.

“Dave, this is so beautiful,” you gasped when you felt him pull your back to his chest and wrap his arms around you as he licked at your neck.

“I’ve got something more beautiful right here,” he murmured before he picked you up and threw you on the giant king-sized bed and fucked you over and over again until the both of you were too spent to do anything else but lay in bed the rest of the day. There was no sightseeing on the first day of the trip. You didn’t care because he was one of the most beautiful sights anyway.

You were doing your nighttime routine as you got ready for bed tonight. You two had been here 4 days, and tomorrow was the night you would watch “L'Elisir d'Amore” at the Opera. You had noticed that your Dave had seemed especially… distracted tonight. If you were being honest with yourself, you felt he had been slightly distracted this entire trip. Dave was a DIA operative so he tended to keep his emotions guarded and hidden. You assumed his job naturally made him paranoid, since he was cautious and strategic in his interactions, always watching and analyzing the people around him.

When you first met Dave a few years ago, it felt like he was so mysterious. It had thrown you off since you had grown up being an Ambassador's daughter and had been used to the discretion required in roles like this since you had grown up with the Foreign Service. But, you had never dated someone as reserved as Dave who didn’t let his guard down… ever. It was probably the military training in him. Over time he became more open with you, allowing you to see a deeper, more intimate side to himself, but at the end of the day, he was still a fairly guarded individual with others.

You stepped out of the bathroom and tightened the belt on your robe and found Dave sitting on the patio, sipping a glass of wine and watching the city come alive below.

He felt your presence before you sat down next to him and turned his face towards the palm of your hand to place a quick kiss on the center of it.

“Hi, handsome,” you murmured against his neck before placing a soft kiss behind his ear.  

His eyes were fixed on the horizon as his brows pulled together in thought.

“Is everything okay?” you asked

“Everything’s fine,” he quickly told you.

“You sure?” you gently pressed, rubbing your hands lovingly up and down his chest.

Dave’s eyes fell briefly closed before he finally turned to look at you to lean forward and crush his lips against yours. You whimpered at the sensation of his lips on yours because you loved kissing Dave, he had a way of always making you feel drunk off him. You pressed your lips harder against his feeling that you were already losing control when you started to feel yourself get dangerously wet.

His cell phone rang and he pulled away from you looking frustrated since you could see that he was already very hard and straining against his pants. When he took a look at his screen, you could have sworn his jaw set in a harsh line.

“Sweetheart, I have to take this. I’ll be back,” he said as he quickly squeezed your hand and stood up to go inside your room. You turned around and noticed he picked up his hotel room card, put on his shoes, and ended up leaving the hotel room.

It was odd, but you also knew his job required privacy and strict confidentiality protocols in order to protect sensitive information. You decided to focus your attention back to what was in front of you. At night, the city really lit up, casting a warm glow over the rooftops and creating a magical atmosphere. You could see the flickering lights of cafes and restaurants and heard the faint strains of music drifting through the air.

But now you were distracted. Why was work calling him if he was taking paid time off and currently out of the office?

xx

You had dozed off last night when you realized that Dave’s call was going to take much longer than anticipated. You didn’t remember what time it was when you felt the bed dip and felt Dave caressing your hip, his lovely fingertips tracing the edge of your panties as he kissed your shoulder and whispered you goodnight.

You woke up and stretched lazily and rolled over to feel the pillow beside you and realized Dave wasn’t there, but there was a note left on his pillow.

My perfect girl turns a year older today. Let’s play a game. I have blades but I’m not a knife. Want to cool down? Give me a whirl…

-DY

It was a riddle, he knew you loved them. You had shared on your first date that you and your family would play a lot of brain teasers and word association games while you were growing up. You smiled running your fingers over the note. He had given you an easy one.

There was only one fan in the hotel room, and it was in the living room. You walked over to quickly flip the switch and let the breeze hit you while you saw a piece of paper fall from the top of the fan. You bent over to pick it up. It was a certificate to go downstairs to the hotel spa and get yourself a massage and facial. You looked at your watch and realized that you had to move quickly, your appointment was soon.

After your 2 hours at the spa were finished, one of the receptionists handed you a card to read. You were giddy, it was your next riddle.

I swirl, I twirl, fine and neat. I'm not made of skin or snow. I come in many styles and hues, and can make you feel like new.

-DY

This one would be harder to locate, but you had told Dave that you would probably buy a dress for tonight's show a few days ago. You remembered telling him that when you had passed by a shop not too far from the hotel. You quickly left the spa to go to the store and were greeted by an attractive male staff manager.  

“Hello Mrs. York,”

You raised your eyebrows at him in surprise.

He chuckled. “Your husband showed me a picture of you and said that my job today is to devote my attention to finding you the perfect dress for this evening. Would you like some champagne?”

You smiled at him brightly. “Please, and thank you,”

You spent the next hour drinking, swapping stories with Killian about the men in your lives, and trying on a few dresses. You hated shopping, but this experience had been more fun than usual, and you were trying to soak up your “Pretty Woman” moment as long as possible.

“Holy shit, that’s the dress,” Killian said with his glorious accent once you put on a dress his colleague had handed to you.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and decided he was right. Also, when you looked at your watch, you realized you needed to get back to the hotel to start getting ready.

“Did Dave leave a note with you by any chance?”

“He did, he said you get a head start this time and that your next clue is somewhere in your hotel room,” Killian responded while he checked you out and handed you the note.

You waved goodbye to Killian and his staff and opened up your note once you stepped outside.

Born from the sun’s kiss and earth’s tender grace. I age with patience and care, a treasure concealed, my essence rare.

-DY

You walked up to the hotel and quickly hopped in the shower to ensure you would make it to the Opera by 7:00 PM. Once you were done getting ready, you started searching the room for the item and you found the bottle of wine hidden inside the decorative vase on the table in the dining room.

You picked up and read the bottle, Weingut Schloss Halbturn Cabernet Franc. It was the bottle of red you two had drank last year at a DIA gala event and you had told Dave how much you had loved the taste since it had been bold and structured. Taped to the bottle was your final riddle of the night.

Meet me here tonight. Make a wish, but don’t take a drink.

-DY

xx

You walked to the famous Opernbrunnen fountain and went to the standing in the grounds of the State Opera House. You stepped out wearing your dress that had a plunging neckline, a full skirt with pleats and a long train, all made of a shimmering light blue fabric. You were wearing minimal jewelry, letting the dress speak for itself and your makeup soft and natural, with a pop of color on your lips. You stood in front of the fountain in awe, it was just as stunning as you could have imagined.

You felt somebody tap your shoulder and turned around to find an utterly fuckable man in front of you.

Your husband looked delicious as always wearing a three-piece single-button tuxedo with a black contrast peak lapel. “You’re simply stunning, Mrs. York,” he motioned with his finger for you to twirl around for him, so you did. “Something this beautiful deserves to be seen on someone worthy of its beauty,” he murmured, motioning to your dress.

The comment made you want to cry, but you didn’t want to mess up your makeup. “You look pretty handsome yourself, Mr. York,” you said as your lips met his for a quick hello. “Thank you for today and all my gifts. But, I missed you today,” you pouted.

He hummed, pressing his lips more insistently on yours. “Happy Birthday, Sweetheart,”

He pulled out of his pocket an individually wrapped Bouchard chocolate. You beamed at him. He knew your vices all too well.

“I know you much you love dark Belgian chocolate, so I thought you could have a snack before the show,” he smirked.

“But, what if I wanted something else in my mouth?” you teased.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled your body tightly to his. Dave brushed his lips along your ear as he rocked his hips against you.

“Do you feel what you do to me?” his voice was low, raspy, and it sent shivers down your spine.

“Yes,” you whispered shakily as he pressed his impressive erection against you harder to prove his point. You moaned when his hands moved down your waist, to your hips, and back down to cup your ass.

“Let’s get inside before I get arrested for fucking you in front of this fountain, yeah?”

You giggled while he continued to grip your ass.

“Ready?” He asked

“Yup,” you replied, popping the P for dramatic effect as you both turned to go inside.

xx

“Dave,” you whined, pushing his hand away when his fingers slid high up your thigh and grazed your panties under your dress during the second act while you two were sitting in a private balcony box,

He brushed your hair to the side, and kissed your neck, “I just want to see what’s under this dress,”

You laughed. “Dave come on, the other private balcony box isn’t that far away from us,”

You knew it was a weak protest and that you didn’t sound serious at all.

“But, baby, you’re wet. I can feel it, and I can smell it.”

You inhaled slowly, your chest rising and your lips parted at his words.

“You know how much I love your pussy. Fuck, I wish my tongue was inside of you right now,”

“David,” you moaned.

“Fuck,” He loved it when you called him by his full name. It was because he associated it with sex. You only called him David behind closed doors.

He slid his hands under your dress again and then slid his fingers into your panties, stroking his index and middle finger along your slick, hot center.

He watched your tongue slide out to wet your dry lips. He was winning. You spread your legs wider, demanding his attention.

Then finally he slide his fingers through your soaked pussy.

You moaned throwing your head back, giving into the pleasure as his fingers inched deeper inside of you. Your moans turned into keening cries as he continued and your hips rocked against his two fingers. You realized your moans were starting to blend with the sounds of the characters Nemorino and Adina. The opera singers were delivering powerful performances that enhanced the intensity of David circling your clit with his thumb quickly in harmony with the music.

“Are you going to be good for me?”

David's words were blending with the "Prendi, per me sei libero" duet currently happening in the background.

“Y – Yes, I’ll be good for you David,” you whimpered as he continued to pump his fingers inside of you working you steadily towards release.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of the night, licking every inch of you,”

The image he had implanted in your brain made you clench around his fingers harder.

“Oh, I can feel that you like hearing that. You’re being so fucking good for me, my good girl,”

“I’m so close,” you cried out closing your eyes.

“Let me hear you, baby,” he told you as he moved faster, hitting your more sensitive spot.

The music continued to swirl around you, enveloping you in its spellbinding beauty, as you were swept away by what you were feeling.

“Open your fucking eyes, and look at me while you come,”

“Oh fuck, David,”  you opened up your eyes to see the absolutely wrecked look he had on his face. You bit down on his shoulder, as hard as you could when you felt your body explode and you felt yourself convulsing around his fingers with your release as the final notes of the opera echoed through the hall and the audience erupted into thunderous applause.

He tangled his hand in your hair and pulled your head towards his mouth to pull you in for a deep kiss. He slowly pulled out his fingers once he saw you had calmed down with your breathing and put them in his mouth to lick them clean.

“You taste so much better than Chocolate, baby, But, I’m not done with you yet,” he said with a wild grin.

“Mmm,” you breathed. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

He kissed you softly. “Both,”

xx

You woke up the next morning to a lovely ache between your legs and Dave was still completely passed out. After the show ended, you two were originally going to grab a late cocktail, but you were both aching for one another after Dave’s performance in the balcony opera box that you went back to the hotel immediately. As Dave undressed you, you couldn’t help but feel like something was slightly different. He was always insatiable for you, but last night there had been a desperate urgency and longing in the way he kissed you, touched you, and buried himself inside of you on the floor because he couldn’t wait to get on the bed. It was almost as if he was coming back from war and needed your touch to feel like you were really here.

“I love you,” you said as you felt intense pleasure building inside your belly while he thrusted inside of you deeper and deeper.

“Say it again,”

“I love you,” you repeated.

“Fucking again,” he said possessively.

It wasn’t like him to need the validation. It was out of character for him to request reassurance.

“Fuck, you’re everything to me David, I - I love you so much,”  you moaned out pushing your hips upwards, wanting to feel his cock buried deeper inside of you.  

“That’s it, you can take it,” he growled as he as he drove into your soaking cunt over and over again on the floor at a brutal pace. “Let me feel you come on my cock, baby,”

You felt your orgasm course through your body and then David quickly joined you as he emptied himself inside of you.

You two laid together quietly while he rested his head on your chest and then he put one of his hands over your rapidly beating heart.

“God, I fucking love you,” he whispered.

You looked at your phone and noticed you had received a text message from Carol who was married to one of Dave’s colleagues.

Carol: Did you and David hear the news? Susan Plummer was murdered yesterday in Brussels. They think it was a robbery.

She had sent you an article link as well. The article explained that details were still emerging but so far it was suspected that she was stalked by a robber to be attacked and stabbed with a knife in her hotel room.

You were shocked, Dave worked closely with Susan and they had known each other for many years. You quickly got out of bed and were about to call Carol on the patio when you bumped into a chair in the dining room that dropped the pack of Bouchard chocolates on the ground from Dave’s tuxedo jacket.

You couldn’t help but keep staring at the packaging of the chocolates that had scattered below you. You picked one off the floor and inspected it closely. Your father had been the Ambassador of France and a respected diplomat, so you had spent some of your childhood living there. You distinctly remember that whenever your parents craved certain Belgian chocolates, you all as a family would make a road trip out of it and go to Brussels or Bruges. You remember your brother one day being annoyed at the idea of leaving since he was trying to hang out with his friends.  

“Dad, this is like 3 hours away, we can get chocolates here in Paris,” he complained.

“I’m craving Bouchard. And, you can’t get Bouchard anywhere, only in Brussels. It’s made there and only sold there.”

“What a wonderful fun fact,” your brother said sarcastically.

“I’ll let you drive,” your father bribed.

Your brother's eyes lit up, realizing your father was going to drive his Ashton Martin instead of using the chauffeur service that was offered to him through his job.

“Deal,” your brother said.

“Shotgun!” you screamed.

Your parents chuckled as you all left the residence.

You had been so distracted last night that you hadn’t even thought to question how Dave could have found Bouchard in Vienna. Because why would you?

Vienna to Brussels was approximately a 1 hour and 45 minute flight. And you hadn’t seen David all day yesterday since he had set you up on your mini birthday scavenger hunt.

You felt a throbbing headache beginning to form and felt a profound sense of unease as your brain started to spiral.

1 hour and 45 minutes

The constant travel and lack of predictability in his schedule all the time with work.

1 hour and 45 minutes

The times he would sometimes come back home with injuries that he brushed off as accidents.

1 hour and 45 minutes

The isolation and uncertainty you felt at times about his whereabouts and activities.

1 hour and 45 minutes

The way he fucked you last night with so much raw intensity. A silent declaration of his devotion.   

You closed your eyes. Deep down, you knew that you had always questioned the true nature of your husband's work. But, you didn’t want to believe that his suspicious behavior meant what you thought it could mean. There had to be a reasonable explanation for the situation.   

As you slowly picked up your feet to walk back towards the bed, you looked at your husband's sleeping face and thought back to the first riddle he told you on your first date.

I am the whisper in your ear, but you refuse to hear me clear. I speak the truth you try to hide. What am I?

Denial

And that’s when you realized what this birthday trip really was. It was his alibi.

xx

Additional Comments:

Okay, also you can totally buy Bouchard outside of Belgium, but I just needed to create that illusion for the story. Also, I’m not as smart as reader. My ass would have bumped into the chocolates and just popped one into my mouth… and thought nothing of it. Oops?

This is so beautiful and bittersweet!

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

life and loss | joel miller

pairing: dave york x f!reader / joel miller x f!reader word count: 1k content warnings: 18+ blog; death, grief/loss, major character death (no description of said death), AU and crossover universes, kind of fluffy, navigating loss, reader is non descriptive/blank slate. notes: this randomly came to me yesterday on my walk. It was meant to be just a moodboard and a small blurb to go along with it… and then this happened. Oops! Tried to pack a lot into a small thing so hopefully it makes sense.

Momentos of him, your late husband, have remained tucked away for the last year following his unexpected death. As you settle into your new widowed life and new home over a thousand miles away from the life you created with Dave, all the beautiful memories reside in cardboard boxes out of sight. 

Word travels quickly through the small neighborhood about your arrival and marital status— or lack thereof. Welcoming introductions turn into unannounced check-ins and flowers. Uncomfortable small talk on your front porch is sprinkled throughout the following weeks, a hand on your shoulder accentuates their let us know if you need anything. Sympathetic casseroles finally dwindle allowing you to finally ease into this new season of your life. 

The hammock left by the previous owners becomes your sanctuary most evenings. Searching for the brightest star in the night’s sky, then asking Dave how he’s doing before reading aloud to him the words from your latest book. 

It's days later when you’ve read the final word that a small voice from over the fence manifests as a quirky teenage girl sitting at a table you’ve set up on your back patio. She has a million and one questions about the book and is filled with theories about what happens beyond its ending. The side gate is never regularly latched closed now, eagerly awaiting Ellie’s return. She navigates most of your late night conversations that follow, including personal stories and the history of her life. My grump of an old man is in construction. He’s single by the way— not by choice, but life happens. 

His voice is calloused the first time he makes his presence known to you. Goddamn it, Ellie! I told you to leave her alone! They exchange brittle words back and forth through the shared barrier, before you insist he join the two of you. The crunch of his boots on the ground stall when he towers over where you’re still seated. His hand engulfing yours, warm and gentle as he tries to determine where his gaze should fall— you, the ground, the smirking teenager sitting across from you. Joel. Joel Miller. Uh, Ellie n’ I live next door. Not sure how long she’s been botherin’ you, but I’ll be sure it doesn’t happen again.

It’s weeks later when you run into Joel at the mailboxes. The clanking of keys and squeaky hinges fill the space between you before you’re both retreating back to your respective pathways. Your hands fidget and twist the bills and letters from your parents when you bravely initiate a conversation before he’s able to reach his front door. She’s the first person since moving here who wanted to talk to me about something other than the death of my husband. I don’t think I’ve laughed as much as I have with her in a long time. She’s welcome over here anytime. 

He reeks of nervousness as he stands on your doorstep the following evening. The ambered hue of his eyes absorb the warmth from the front porch light, adding a brightness to them that they seem to be commonly lacking. His words waver a bit as he begins to speak, starting and stopping, scrubbing his hand down his face before he attempts to start again. You offer him nothing but patience, sensing the mournful energy radiating off him— similar to the one you’ve been carrying. My wife and older daughter— they were both in an accident on their way to Sarah’s soccer game. I was pickin’ up Ellie from her counseling group for adopted kids. We were headin’ to the soccer field when I got the call. Some days are harder than others. And everyone wants to help, however that may be— lots of food as I’m sure you know. It doesn’t ever really get easier, but you learn to live with grief. Anyways, if you ever need anything or just want to talk— you know where I live.  

He accepts your impulsive invitation to join you for dinner, offering him the open seat across from you in the same spot as your timid first meeting. The crickets orchestrate the evening ambience as you share stories you’d tucked away, too painful to revisit until now. You find you laugh just as much, if not more, with Joel. Even among the tears shed, the conversation is filled with a hope and optimism that you longed for. 

You still feel his wholesome embrace long after you’ve called it a night to seek out much needed sleep. But much like the nights that ensued after Dave’s death, loneliness and the weight of your grief rear its head. 

The black ink glides over the surface of the paper. Line after line formulated a year’s worth of unsaid words that had been bottled up and blockaded by the rigid walls you’d built around them. Joel was right about the therapeutic effect of getting rid of the burdensome thoughts that come with loss, finding it’s hard to stop now that you’ve started. 

You convey the love that you still carry for Dave, something you’ll never willfully ignore or regret. It feels wrong but you touch on the hatred you feel towards his death; you hate him for leaving you, hate that you miss him, hate that some nights you forget the small details that you cherished about him. You tell him about Joel and the kindness he’s afforded you in a short time of knowing him and that there’s life beyond losing the love of your life. To look for the light even when shrouded by darkness. 

Pictures and trinkets find their way out of the cardboard confines Joel helped pull out from the guest room closet. The bare walls now filled with familiar faces and shelves adorn with colorful memories that you tried so hard to keep hidden. 

Joel and Ellie being a constant presence in your life allows you to see that life can surprise you when you least expect it and there’s room for new love. 

I loved this so much!!!! 😍😍😍😍

Love me some soft!Dave 🥰

The Prenup (dave york x f!reader)

18+ account - minors do not interact

dave york x f!reader

Word Count: 6.3k

Rating: E

Summary: You and David York are two of the top divorce lawyers in Boston and are on opposite sides of a high-profile divorce. Both of you are at of the top of your game and have never lost a case. How will you navigate your feelings, as your personal and professional life intertwines?

Warning: sexual tension, flirting, mentions of divorce, mentions of infidelity, mutual pining, smutty flashbacks (oral – f receiving, and p in v sex), emotional cheating? language, sexual touching, nipple play, smidge daddy kink (papi), dirty talk, praise, oral (f – receiving), implied p & v sex

A/N: This is my contribution for Shortie's AU Challenge. I am channeling my inner Shortie; she always blesses us with long one-shots and so I decided to make this WAY longer than necessary. In order not to spoil too much, I include more of my thoughts at the bottom of this one-shot. P.S. David York is slept on in this fandom. We need more Dave. Justice for Dave. He’s not the Pedro boy that gets the most engagement but you best believe I inhale Dave York content. I can at least promise that this story is less angsty than my Riddles one-shot.

@punkshort

xx

Boston, Massachusetts

"Order in the court! I expect professional behavior from both counsel."

You leaned over the table, a smirk tugging at your lips as you tilted your head slightly. Your eyebrows arched in playful defiance. "Your Honor, I find it hard to believe that my colleague can actually think my client's request for a fair division of assets is unreasonable. The prenup clearly outlines significant financial disparities."

There was a slight curl in your lips, as you shot a glance at David.

David folded his arms, leaning back, his posture exuding an air of confidence that only amplified your irritation.  "Oh please. The prenup was signed willingly. This isn’t some poorly drafted agreement meant to confuse an unsuspecting spouse. You're making it sound like my client ambushed yours with a signed blank check."

His tone was casual, but his piercing stare ignited a flicker of annoyance in you.

You rolled your eyes, curling your fingers into the palm of your hand to keep calm. "In clear language, the prenup asserts that the assets acquired during the marriage should be shared equitably, especially given the increased at home contributions my client made."

You leaned in slightly, trying to assert your point, and fighting the reflex to slap David across the face. He was insufferable.

David leaned forward, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes, as if he thrived on the tension. "Increased contributions? Or should we say—you’re overstepping the boundaries of what was agreed upon, possibly driven by desperation? How does it feel to lose control over such a simple matter?"

His arrogance made you want to roll your eyes again, but it only infuriated you more to admit how effortlessly attractive he was, the way his eyes glinted with challenge.

Judge McCall sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I need you both to stop this sparring. Focus on presenting your evidence and keep your arguments above board, please."

You smirked, unable to resist a final jab, your voice smooth with a hint of sarcasm. "You’re right, Your Honor. I wouldn’t want to outshine my opposing counsel with simple logic and reason."

It felt satisfying to deflate his bravado, even if only momentarily, as you savored the incredulity that flickered across his face.

"Logic? That's rich coming from you. But I appreciate your attempt. It’s adorable." David said with a cocky grin.

Your irritation spiked, a mixture of anger and unwelcome attraction flooding your senses.

"I will hold this court in recess until both of you can conduct yourselves like the professionals you claim to be." Judge McCall recited, his authority cutting through the tension with an audible snap.

The gavel struck down, echoing through the still air, and David shot you a playful glare, a smirk still taunting his lips. You had never lost a case in your entire career, and neither had David. You both knew the courtroom was only part of the battle, and the real game was just beginning.

xx

The door to your office opened with a soft click, and the ambiance shifted as David strode in with an air of confidence. His tailored suit trailed the sharp edge of professionalism, but the way he leaned casually against the doorframe suggested an unspoken familiarity with the space.

"You know," he began, his tone light yet persuasive, "I think we both know how this could end. I hate to say it, but dragging this out in court might not do wonders for your reputation." He raised an eyebrow playfully, his voice dropping into a more intimate register. "I wouldn't want to see you embarrass yourself,”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his audacity, a blend of annoyance and intrigue igniting within you. “Are you suggesting I just roll over, David, I thought you were my opposition, not my advisor,” you shot back, with a playful tilt of your lips.

He took a slow step closer, the tension thickening as he casually brushed a nonexistent speck off his sleeve. "Oh, I'm just saying," he replied, maintaining eye contact, "sometimes less is more. Why put on a show when we both know the outcome will be the same?"

The words hung in the air, laced with subtext, and you felt the familiar heat rise within you. You leaned back in your chair, crossing your legs, an instinctive response to his proximity. He walked further into your office, the heels of his polished shoes clicking against the hardwood floor. “Let’s talk about the upcoming court date. It would be much more—shall we say—expedient for both of us if you considered settling,”

You met his gaze fiercely, your heart racing despite yourself. “We’re not settling,” you said as you broke the gaze and focused on the papers on your desk.

“I’d hate to see you standing before Judge McCall trying to explain why you pushed for something that was never going to be achievable.”

“And what’s your angle here, David?

He chuckled softly. “No angle, I just think settling would be much more dignified, don’t you think?”

“You call it dignity, I call it capitulation.”

“Maybe. But consider this: sometimes surrendering is the real strength,” he countered, inching closer. The scent of his cologne filled the air, warm and inviting, mixing with the tension spiraling between you both.

“You’re making it hard for me to keep this cordial,” you quipped, crossing your arms defensively.

“Cordiality is boring, sweetheart,” David replied.

You tilted your head. “And here I thought we were supposed to be adversaries. Are you trying to butter me up?”

“Only when I think you can handle it,” he shot back with a grin.

“Let’s just stick to business, shall we?” you finally said, clearing your throat, but the breathlessness leaking into words contradicted your polished demeanor.

“Of course,” David replied, his smirk lingering as he stepped back, though the heat of the moment hadn't faded. “But I’ll be waiting for your call about that settlement.”

A smile danced at the corner of your lips. “Don’t hold your breath,”

David turned around to leave your office. “Hey,” he said casually, glancing back over his shoulder. “Make sure to say hello to your husband for me.”

You started twirling with your wedding ring and looked at the framed photograph that stood prominently among the clutter on your desk. It captured a joyful moment: your husband, with his infectious smile, and your two kids, their faces alight with laughter as they played in a sun-drenched park.

You raised an eyebrow. “And you can tell your wife I send my apologies,” you shot back.

With a wink, he replied, "I'll make sure to do that," before stepping out, leaving the moment hanging in the air.

Later that night in the gentle glow of the moonlight filtering through your curtains, you laid nestled in the warm cocoon of your bed, your eyelids growing heavy as the day's thoughts began to dissolve into a soothing haze.

As your drifted nearer to the edge of sleep, your husband quietly slipped into the room, and laid himself beside you, pressing his chest against your back, and you felt the warmth of his body against yours.

He held you close, tracing delicate patterns on your shoulder and you smiled faintly in your sleep, as you dreamt of David.

xx

“You're referring to the alleged infidelity?” you sighed, during the divorce deposition.

“Alleged? She was having sex with him in the guest room,” David’s client, Brian shouted.

The atmosphere in the room shifted as Brian's outburst hung heavily in the air. You could almost see the gears turning in David's head as he prepared to capitalize on this. “The infidelity is a clear breach of the marital agreement. Susan’s actions demonstrate a blatant disregard for the exclusivity of their marriage as agreed upon in the prenup,”

“So, you are saying that infidelity requires financial penalty?” you responded.

David nodded.

“Using your reasoning, any infidelity on your client’s part... would have to be held against him as well.”

“What are you suggesting?” David said.

You leaned forward, a determination sparking behind your eyes as you countered, "While infidelity might affect a court's perception of asset distribution and alimony in some cases, we must consider the full scope of the situation,” You turned to Brian and your voice dripped with feigned innocence. “Brian, why don’t you enlighten us about the child you’ve recently fathered?"

The room went silent, and David's confident demeanor cracked, just for a moment. Confusion flitted across his face, followed by a dawning realization that spoke volumes. He looked between you and Brian as he tried to piece together the implications.

Brian, setting his jaw, shifted uncomfortably in his chair looking anywhere but at David. The silent admission echoed ominously around the room, and you could feel the tide turning.

David's expression morphed from baffled to outright shock. It was evident he had no knowledge of this fact, and you could barely suppress the satisfaction bubbling within you.

You allowed yourself a small smirk, relishing the moment of vulnerability in David’s otherwise poised structure. “It seems,” you said, a teasing lilt to your voice, “that the narrative of infidelity might be more complex than David presents.

The tension in the room was palpable as Brian finally broke the silence. “I need a minute,” he muttered, rising from his chair. His voice was strained, and you could see the torrent of emotions battling within him as he hastily exited the room.

As the door clicked shut behind Brian, the tension in the room hung like a thick fog. You could hear the faint rustle of paper and the slight shift of chairs as Susan looked towards you, her smile massive.

“I need to use the restroom,” she said quietly, standing up. With a nod, she disappeared through the door, leaving you and David alone.

Once the door was fully closed, you straightened in your chair and produced a set of settlement papers from your briefcase. You slid the papers across the table toward David, maintaining eye contact, your expression earnest.

“You should consider working with Brian to get these signed.”

David arched an eyebrow, his earlier confidence returning. “And why would I do that?” he asked, crossing his arms defensively.

“Because,” you said, your tone measured, “the veil of infidelity has grown quite thin. The implications of Brian’s recent revelation could shift the entire landscape of this case,”

"You think I’m that easily swayed? Just because of this,”

“Not swayed, David,” you clarified, your voice steady. “But consider the risk. With Brian's infidelity on the table, the courts will take a more compassionate view on Susan’s actions, especially if she can demonstrate that her infidelity was a response to his. You must be aware that it’s not just about the stark facts; it’s about perception.”

David laughed lightly, though there was a hint of incredulity in it. “You think I’m going to roll over just because you’ve pulled a few tricks? I’m not going to settle. I’m prepared for court.”

With a casual flick of your pen, you leaned back in your chair, fully aware that it was David who now had to rethink his strategy. You were about to respond and tell him how ridiculous he was being when you felt a sudden vibration of your phone that disrupted your focus.

You glanced at the caller ID and your expression shifted, a fleeting moment of apprehension before you answered. It was your best friend, and she never called you during work unless it was important. You saw that she had previously texted you the words: “SOS”

 "Hey, what’s up?" you said, your voice steady, masking the tension that was beginning to build in the pit of your stomach. As her words spilled through the receiver, your gaze drifted, the papers in front of you blurring into the background.

Though you tried to maintain composure, you felt your anger rising. Your jaw tightened and your grip on the phone became a little too intense—a subconscious attempt to anchor yourself against the rising tide of emotions. The corner of your mouth twitched, materializing a thin, forced smile in response to the painful snippets you were hearing. You were usually an expert at concealing distress, but the cracks were starting to show.

Across the desk, David, a perceptive observer, noticed the change in your demeanor. "Are you okay?" he asked with concern.

You opened your mouth, preparing a response, but the weight of your best friend’s revelation hung heavy in the air. “I… I have to go,” you finally said, your voice a touch unsteady.

Without waiting for a reply, you ended the call, your fingers shaking ever so slightly as you set the phone down. You grabbed your things with a sense of urgency, your thoughts racing as you struggled to mask the emotional storm that threatened to break free.

As you hastily gathered your belongings, your mind still reeling from your best friend’s news. Before you could even process what was happening, David moved around the table.

In a moment that felt surreal, he reached out and cupped your face in his hands. The warmth of his touch was unexpected, and your heart raced—not from fear, but from an unbidden rush of conflicting emotions. There was no mistaking the intensity in his eyes; they held something that lingered just below the surface. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

For a fleeting second, you were taken aback, caught in an emotional whirlpool, the boundaries of professionalism blurring. But just as quickly as it had begun, it all came crashing down. Feeling an impulse to restore the distance between you both, you pulled away, your heart pounding in your ears.

“David,” you said, your voice firm but still trembling from the unexpected intimacy of the moment. “This isn’t the time for this,” you said, desperate to reestablish the professional tone.

Reaching for the door, you paused for a moment and just as you were about to turn the knob, you turned around.

“Just sign the papers,” You gestured to the settlement papers spread across the table.

xx

As you stepped through the front door, the familiar scents of home wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. The sound of upbeat music filled the air, accompanied by the rhythmic thud of feet hitting the floor. Curiosity piqued, you followed the sound into the living room.

You found your mother in workout gear, energetically following along with an intense fitness video. The living room was transformed into a makeshift gym, with colorful mats spread out and water bottles conveniently placed nearby.

As your mother turned, sweat glistening on her forehead, her eyes landed on you with a mixture of shock and amusement. "You’re early… and you look like shit!" she exclaimed, barely missing a beat in her workout routine.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you leaned against the doorframe. "Thanks, Mom,”

"You know my friends and I are having a lip party later. I know you’re not into that, but you can join us if you want. Raul takes the fat out of our butts and injects it into our lips."

"That gives a whole new meaning to talking out of your ass," you shot back, laughing lightly.

Your mother with her mismatched socks and wild hair, always had a way of saying quirky things that would catch most people off guard—but you were used to it. At just sixteen, she became a mother herself, cast out by her parents, left to navigate a world that felt impossibly large and unforgiving. She transformed her pain into a life full of unconditional love and support for you.

Growing up poor wasn’t easy, but your mom embraced it with a stubborn resilience that only she could muster. You remembered the nights when she’d hustle through her graveyard shifts at the diner, fluorescent lights flickering above her as she poured coffee for strangers who hardly noticed her. Yet, you always knew that beneath those tired eyes was a fierce determination to give you a better life. While she often struggled to make ends meet, she tirelessly saved every penny to make sure you had a chance to go to college.

The day you graduated from college, and later stood on the steps of Harvard Law School, you could see her there, your biggest cheerleader, her face lit up with a mix of pride and disbelief, all the sacrifices of her past culminating in this moment. She was at an age where she would get some cosmetic tweaks here and there, even though she didn’t need it at all. For you, funding those little indulgences she so joyfully embraced felt like a small token of gratitude rather than an expense – whether it was a new skincare regimen or a visit to her favorite clinic for a ‘facial’ – also known as botox. Some may have called it vanity, but you simply understood it as her way of feeling confident.

Checking the time on your phone, you sighed, "I really need to shower and then pick up the girls…"

She waved a hand dismissively. "I’ll handle the pick-up. You go freshen up."

You hesitated, feeling a twinge of guilt. "Are you sure? I’m here,”

Your mother helped you and your husband with the kids, she lived about 15 minutes away and she had loved stepping into the role of grandmother, even though your daughters called her by her first name. Her request.

She caught your eye and smiled, a playful glint in her gaze. "I’m sure,”

As you turned to head towards your bedroom, she called out, “Hey! Should I whip you up a drink while you’re at it? Maybe a martini?”

You half-laughed, glancing back at her. “Mom, it’s 3 PM,”

“Exactly! That’s practically early evening somewhere,” she shot back, hands on her hips. “What’s more self-care than a little liquid relaxation? Plus,” she added, winking cheekily, “by the time I bring the girls back, you’ll be rejuvenated and ready to deal with them!”

“Right, because a tipsy mom is the kind of energy they need,” you replied, shaking your head as you turned towards your bedroom.

“Hey, if you’re going to raise the next generation, you should at least do it with a buzz!” She called after you, and you could hear her giggling as you walked away.

You felt so excited when you stripped out of your clothes, you couldn’t remember the last time you came home this early. This day was exhausting, you told your office you were taking a half day. In the soft haze of steam, the bathroom felt like a sanctuary, the air thick with warmth and the sound of water cascading down. You stood under the showerhead, letting the soothing streams wash away the stress of your day, though your mind was elsewhere.

David.

Thoughts of the case filled your head, swirling like the steam around you.

David.

Thoughts of him touching you today and wanting to feel his lips on yours.

David.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't hear the quiet creak of the bathroom door nor the gentle sound of footsteps on the tiled floor. It wasn't until you felt a warm presence behind you, a familiar weight against your back, that you fully came back to the moment. The water poured over you, glistening on your skin.

Your husband enveloped you in his arms, his chest pressing against her back. "You've been working too hard, you know that?" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver of surprise through you. You had been too caught up in her mind to notice him coming in, but his touch grounded you.

“One of my cases took an interesting turn today; I have opposing counsel by the balls, so I think the long nights will stop,”

He slid his hands down your sides, feeling the smoothness of your wet skin, his fingers trailing over your curves. "The balls huh?” he continued, his voice low and teasing. "I’m not settling, sweetheart,”

You turned around to face your husband, David.

“How about we settle on a more hands-on approach instead?” Your voice was soft yet laced with suggestion.

David’s eyes darkened, his lips curling into a wicked grin. With that, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss that made your head spin. The warmth of the water mixed with the heat building between you as your hands explored the contours of his body, pulling him closer.

It was hard to believe that ten years had passed since the whirlwind of chaos that had introduced you to David.

You were opposing counsel on a high-profile divorce case involving your notorious rockstar client and his fashion designer wife who David had been representing. Both clients were as volatile as they came, their passions spilling over into the courtroom and beyond. During the initial meetings, you remembered the palpable tension that had filled the air, not just between your clients, but also between you and David.

You had clashed from the very start. Every strategy session was a battle of wits, each trying to outmaneuver the other. You would suggest a course of action, only to have him counter it with a sarcastic quip that ignited your irritation. Meetings turned into a game of sparring, with the courtroom as your battleground.

But amidst the stress and hostility, something unexpected had begun to simmer. There was a spark—a magnetic pull that neither of you could ignore. Late nights pouring over case files morphed into stolen glances and fleeting touches. The tension that once felt like conflict took on a new energy, an unspoken understanding simmering beneath the surface.

You remembered the night it happened. You both stayed late, tensions high from a particularly nasty spat with your clients that threatened to derail the case. The office was dimly lit, shadows dancing across the walls as you argued, the air crackling with frustration. And then, in a moment of surprising heat, your lips met. It was reckless, unexpected, and utterly intoxicating. You pushed aside a few scattered files, the sound barely reaching your ears as his hands found your waist, pulling you firmly against him. His lips were warm and insistent, coaxing a frantic response from you that left you breathless. You ran your hands along his arms, feeling the taut muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt, a contrast to the softness of the kiss. He proceeded to pull your panties down and his head disappeared under your skirt as he settled his face between your thighs. Your elbows buckled, and you collapsed against the desk as he licked, stroked, and sucked, sending waves of pleasure through you. You cried out, overwhelmed by the sensations. Trembling, you felt him secure your hips with one arm and he made you come harder than you ever had.

When you recovered, he pushed inside of you filling you up with one thrust and set a pounding rhythm and your mouth opened to let out filthy sounds because you were so lost in the sensations that you forgot that you were supposed to hate him. You were a panting, aching mess, as he made you beg, made you want, and fucking tortured you before he let you come. Finally, he hit that magic spot, and you experienced a pleasure you had only read about and you clenched violently on his cock screaming his name, while he whispered filth your ear. Moments later, David was groaning out as his release hit him and he kissed you hard, moaning into your mouth. 

In the days that followed, you plastered on facades of professionalism, even as your heart raced at the thought of what had transpired. It had clearly just been stress relief. You didn’t talk about it. But sometimes, you would catch David’s eye across the conference table, and the memories of that night would flicker in your mind like a vivid flashback, stirring emotions you didn’t know how to articulate.

And, the irony was thick; your clients, once dead set on ending their relationship, had begun to reconcile. They called off the divorce and worked through their differences.

After the final negotiation session where your clients seemed more like a united front than ever, you both stepped out onto the balcony of your office for some fresh air. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the city skyline, and for a moment, you both leaned against the railing in silence, the weight of the past few months hanging between you.

Finally, David broke the silence, turning towards you with a mixture of nervousness and determination in his eyes. "We should talk," he said, his voice low and steady. "About everything."

Your heart raced as you turned to face him, the memory of that night flooding back. “What is there to talk about?” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, but the tension was palpable.

His gaze bore into you, unflinching. “I know we haven’t acknowledged…what happened. But I can’t pretend it didn’t happen,”

You swallowed hard, trying to manage the whirlwind of emotions. “It was a mistake,” you said instinctively, but even as the words left your lips, you knew it was a lie.

David stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Was it?” he challenged, but then softened his tone. “Look, I don’t want to make things complicated, but we’ve shared something…unique. And now that this case is winding down, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to explore between us.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You mean a—”

“A date,” he pressed, a hopeful smile breaking through his serious demeanor. “Just you and me. Away from the courtroom, these files, and all the bullshit,”

You stared at him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was kindness. A thrill ran through you. Yes, it was reckless. Yes, it was complicated—but there was something about David that made you want to take a chance.

“Okay,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’d like that.”

David’s smile widened, a sense of relief washing over his features. “Great. How about dinner tomorrow night?”

You nodded, a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling within you. “Tomorrow sounds perfect.”

You and David hadn’t been in court together since that last case, and you still used your maiden name professionally, so a lot of people didn’t know you two were married. Your current clients knew as it had to be disclosed, and Judge McCall was very aware – in fact he was the one who had married you both all those years ago.

“Tell me,” You breathed between kisses and returning to the present, your lips aching for more of his touch. “How do you plan to win this case?”

David pulled back just enough to tease you with a raised eyebrow. “By any means necessary, of course,” he murmured, trailing his lips down your jaw, igniting every nerve in your body.

You felt a rush of adrenaline as you pulled him closer, your fingers tangling in his damp hair. "By any means necessary, huh?" You challenged, your voice a sultry whisper. "That sounds dangerously like a promise."

David chuckled, his breath hot against your neck as he nipped at your skin lightly, sending tingles down your spine. "Oh, I always keep my promises," he replied, his tone low and teasing. "And right now, the only thing I want you to focus on is me,” he whispered. “And I’d much rather you focus on how good it feels when I—”

You interrupted him with a bold kiss that silenced his lips against yours. As your lips parted, you looked at David, his brows knitted in concern, and suddenly, the playful atmosphere shifted.

“What?” you asked, genuinely curious.

He hesitated for a beat, his expression serious as he brushed a lock of wet hair off your forehead. “I was worried about you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I saw you take that call earlier, and you looked... off.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of your day crashing down like a tidal wave. “It was Carol,” you replied.

David’s eyes searched yours. When you took a deep breath, the words spilled out. “Sam is cheating on her with some twenty-two-year-old girl from the gym.”

Your husband’s expression shifted, a mix of anger and disgust flickering across his features. “What?” he said through gritted teeth, his jaw tightening.

You, Carol and Sam had all met in undergrad, and they were college sweethearts. They were some of your oldest friends and you couldn’t believe Sam was willing to throw everything away for a fling.

“Yeah,” you nodded, the frustration at the situation washing over you. “She’s worried about their kids. I mean, they’re really young, and the whole situation is just so tacky,” you confessed, the anger evident in your voice. “I didn’t expect it from him. It’s just—”

“Difficult to digest,” David finished for you, nodding slowly.

For a moment, silence enveloped you both, thick with the weight of emotions. You clung to him. Finally, you spoke again, your voice almost a whisper. “I hate seeing her go through this. It just makes me think...”

His gaze held yours intently. “Think about what?”

“About how unpredictable relationships can be. How everything can change in an instant,” you said.

David stepped back, releasing your hands gently. His expression flickered with concern. “You’re not worried about us, are you?”

As the last drops of water cascaded off your shoulders, you took a moment to breathe. You hesitated, the question lingering like a charged current in the air. “No, I just—”

David stepped closer, his hands reaching out to cup your face. "Because I can assure you, I’m never going to do that," he interrupted, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone.

Just as you opened your mouth to respond, he gently placed a finger across your lips, quieting your thoughts.

"Never,” he repeated. “Besides, I don’t believe in divorce,”

“But you’re a divorce lawyer,” you rolled your eyes.  

“It’s a job,” he chucked softly. “You and me, that’s forever,”

“You’re just saying that because we never signed a prenup, and so it would cost you a lot of money,” you teased.

David came from a very wealthy family, and he had made his own money with his career as a lawyer. So, when you two got engaged, you told him you were happy to sign a prenup as you didn’t feel entitled to his inheritance and you didn’t want his family or him to think you were with him for the wrong reasons. You knew how messy things could get during divorces and it felt pragmatic to check all of the boxes. Ironically, you don’t think you had ever seen him be so offended by something you said. He told you that he felt that too many people entered marriages thinking they could devise an escape route if things got rough, and he didn’t want you both to enter this marriage expecting a divorce. It was a bold proposition coming from a divorce lawyer – but surprisingly you two never ended up signing a prenup.

“I love you,” he chuckled, dipping his head to capture your lips once again.

The sincerity in his words sent a comforting warmth through you, and you felt a slight smile creep across your face. "I love you too," you murmured, pushing away your previous doubts.

With that, you turned off the shower. David stepped out and handed you a towel, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft fabric felt luxurious as you wrapped it around your body, attempting to shield yourself from the chill.

He took a towel for himself.  As he dried off, you took a moment to admire him, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude flood your chest. Each muscle, each curve, every scar told a story, and he was beautiful and yours.

David finished drying off and tossed his towel, moving closer to you again, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. "When are Molly and Alice getting back?” he asked, leaning against the bathroom counter casually, his posture inviting. “How much time do we have baby?”

You bit your lip, a teasing smile playing on your face as you considered your next words. “Well, I’d say we have about thirty minutes before my mother and the girls return,” you replied smoothly.

 “Thirty minutes, huh? That sounds like just enough time for—” he paused dramatically, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips, “—some strategic planning.”

“Oh, strategic planning, is it?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

With a swift, deft motion, he tugged your towel away, letting it drop to the floor. The rush of cool air sent a shiver down your spine. He swallowed hard and your mouth watered when you looked down at his rock-hard erection.

He leaned forward taking one of your nipples in his mouth and sucked hard, his tongue swirling in circles as he cupped your other breast and teased your other nipple with the pad of his thumb. You whimpered, losing yourself in the sensation of him nipping at your nipple and licking at your breast. You ran your fingers into his hair, pulling and tugging at him as he started to suck hard.

“Oh my god,” you cried out a little too loudly, and he popped you out of his mouth with a grin.

“God you’re beautiful,” he murmured, staring at you and then carried you to the edge of the bathroom counter. The cool marble met your exposed skin—a stark contrast that sent another jolt of pleasure through you.

“David!” you gasped, half surprised, half thrilled, as he set you down and positioned himself between your legs, his body just inches from yours and he began to tease you with his fingertips, sliding them along your slick, as you gasped and tipped your head back slightly.

“Such a messy little pussy,” he teased, looking up at you, eyes dark with desire. “You’re so wet for me,”

“Well then fucking do something about it, papi,” you growled.

You saw his cock twitch because he not-so-secretly loved it with you called him that. It wasn’t a common occurrence for you two, but you loved to pull it out when you needed to get his attention.

“Mmm, love it when you’re a little mean with me,” he said, as he dropped to his knees, his face was suddenly between your legs, and his hands pushing your thighs apart. “Because then I get to watch you get so nice for me,” his lips brushed against your core and you gasped, a wave of pleasure surging through you as he slowly flicked his tongue against your sensitive clit. You could feel the heat pooling low in your abdomen, the pressure tightening as he continued to tease, swirling his tongue in delicious patterns.

“Unngh… so good,” you managed to stammer, your fingers slipping into his thick hair, guiding him closer. You could feel the familiar tension building, the longing for release intensifying as he drove you wild.

“Just good?” he teased, pulling back slightly to blow cool air against your slick folds, sending a fresh wave of sensation through you.

“David, please,” you begged, feeling yourself practically vibrating with need. “Don’t tease me—”

But he was relentless, burying his face back where you wanted him most, sucking and licking with a fervor that had you arching off the counter.  You could feel the overwhelming warmth pooling in your belly, the tension coiling tighter with every flick, every thrust of his tongue, and with a soft cry, you felt yourself teetering on the edge. “I’m—David, I’m so close—”

With that, his fingers joined the mix, slipping inside you, curling perfectly to hit that sweet spot that had your back arching and your breath stuttering. Your moans turned to cries as he worked his magic, pushing you to the brink.

“Come for papi, baby,” he urged, his voice thick and muffled against your core as he kept the rhythm steady, coaxing your orgasm to its peak. “Let go for me.”

And then you did. The tension shattered into a million pieces as waves of heat washed over you. You cried out his name, your legs shaking as the world around you dissolved. Each pulse and throb sent you spiraling deeper, his mouth and fingers working you through the overwhelming sensation.

As your breaths slowed, you could feel David’s warm body pressed against your own, his forehead resting against your thigh as he breathed in your scent, savoring the moment.

“Was that strategic enough for you?” he teased lightly, glancing up at you with a satisfied grin.

You couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up from your chest. “I think you nailed the plan, counselor.”

He rose to his feet, capturing your lips in a heated kiss that tasted of you, and you pulled him in tighter, feeling the hardness of his cock against you.

As he positioned himself between your legs once again, he pressed his cock against your slick folds, teasing just at the entrance but not pushing inside yet. The anticipation made you arch your back, seeking more of him.

“David, please," you breathed, the desperation in your voice clear.

“Please what?” he taunted, his lips curving into a playful smirk. “You want more, baby?

You nodded pathetically, your body thrumming with need as you bit your lip, watching him with pleading eyes.

“Tell me what you want,” he purred, letting the tip of his cock tease against you, driving you mad with desire.

“Fuck me,” you gasped, the words almost spilling out in a whimper. “Please, David.”

With a satisfied grin, he leaned forward, shoving himself inside of you. “Whatever you say, counselor,”

xx

The emotional cheating warning was a lie to keep you guys on your toes! Was it obvious that they were married the entire time? I’m a softie so I love soft!dave when he’s in love with his wifey and fucking feral for her.

Shortie is our rom-com queen! So, for her AU challenge, I took inspiration from the movie Laws of Attraction. This is how I envision Pierce Brosnan and Julianne Moore’s characters turning out maybe 10 years down the road. Also, I had to add the mother (with my own spin) in this one-shot because I thought she was the funniest person in the movie, so I wanted to add some humor in the one-shot. The lip party is a quote from the movie.

If you haven’t watched Laws of Attraction – do it! Pierce Brosnan is soooooooo Papi Chulo in it 😉

Oh. Oh my! This was delicious!!!

dave york x babysitter!f!reader

summary: the kids you babysit have a hot dad. you want him. but he's married... cws: unfaithfulness (dave is married to carol), power imbalance (employer and employee), fainting, thigh grinding, fingering, reader wears a skirt, dad!dave and his kids, nicknames (baby, honey), reader sits in dave's lap, mention of blood, frottage kinda, one (1) shoulder bite word count: 2.7k divider by @thecutestgrotto thank you and shoutout to my cheerleaders on this, liv @5oh5 and han @swiftispunk <3 and my love @joelsversion for helping with the header <3

"Without touching his skin, How can I be guilty as sin?"

You hate being alone with Dave York.

There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s a perfectly pleasant, well-mannered man. His daughters, Molly and Alice, are angels when you look after them (mostly), and nothing Dave has ever said or done has made you uncomfortable. Your interactions are innocent and professional. And that’s exactly the problem. 

There’s nothing wrong with him.

Because when you’re left alone together, in the evenings when his kids are asleep and he offers to drive you home, or in the mornings on the days he doesn’t work  from home and he pours you a cup of coffee in the kitchen while you make the girls breakfast… you can’t stop your mind from wandering.

You’re not entirely sure what Mr. York does for work, but you know he must look good doing it. Prancing around the house in his fitted dress pants that hug his front and back just right. His loose dress shirt hiding the body you suspect is strong and strapping, based on the sounds coming from the garage when he tells you he’ll be working out. And those are just the parts you don’t get to see.

His hands, however, are always on full display. When they curl around that mug he hands you. His palm brushing the small of your back as he opens the door for you when you leave. Fingers tapping, sometimes only one on the steering wheel, when he drives you home. When he’s typing away at the computer in his home office, or brushing the hair out of his girls’ faces before kissing their heads goodnight on the nights that he makes it home in time. Oh, those fingers… and that ring.

The ring he wears as a promise to Carol, his wife, that he’ll always be faithful to her. You should know how much a promise like that means. Someone once promised you the same. To always be there, to never stray. But stray they did. And the pain of that is something you don’t wish on anyone.

So yes, you hate being alone with Dave York. Because he’s so close. You spend more hours in his house than your own, basically raising his kids. And he’s right there… but he’s not for you.

It has been a very long day, and yet the clock on the kitchen stove shows only 11:27. The girls have run through the garden sprinklers all morning, worn out and down for a nap already, a combination of heat and exhaustion making you wish you could do the same. The heat wave has lasted for days now, only alleviated by a few minutes of clouds during the worst hours. 

Your bare thighs cling to the chair as you get up to clean up your lunch. It’s quick work, so you do the rest of the dishes too, even though it’s not your job. Warm soapy water prunes your fingers quickly, the only parts of your body not already damp with sweat. The house is rarely this quiet during the day, only the distant sounds of traffic from the main road blocks away filling the room, joining the splashing of water and clangs from dishes as you put them back into their cabinets. Some mornings you can hear Dave talking in his office, the sound carrying through the house. You can never make out what it is he’s talking about, only the low rumble of his voice sometimes plaited with other voices through computer speakers. He’s quiet today. 

This heat is unbearable, you think, as you wipe your forehead with wet hands. Leaning on the counter, you take a deep breath. For a second your eyesight falters, and lightheadedness washes over you. Have you even had a glass of water today? You can feel your legs start to wobble, vision turning static, and you’ve just started swaying when–

“Hey, hey!” 

A strong hand grabs your arm as you topple over, and you lean into Dave’s solid chest, letting him support your weight as you focus on your breathing. 

“There you go, honey,” he soothes. “Deep breaths.”

His shirt smells crisp and clean, the scent interrupted by whiffs of soap and cologne from his skin underneath it, as you inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

“You okay?” His big hand draws circles on your back, still holding you up with the other.

“Just hot…” you manage, lifting your head up to see a concerned Dave look down at you with furrowed brows. 

“Come lie down in my office for a bit, the AC is better in there.”

He supports you on your unsteady legs with an arm firmly around your waist, guiding you to his work room at the other end of the house. You’ve never really been in there, only stuck your head through the door to let him know you’re leaving at the end of the day.

The room is huge, especially for a home office. Floor to ceiling windows cover the far wall, his desk in the middle of the room, facing the door. Bookcases line the other walls, filled with mostly folders and what looks like heavy encyclopedias. In front of one of them is, of all things, a chaise lounge. What is he, a shrink? You’ve never seen him have anyone else in there, but for all you know he might as well be. He’s got the calm and steady presence you imagine one would need to be any kind of doctor.

“Here,” he says as he guides you over to the chaise, one big hand engulfing yours, the other supporting your neck as you lower yourself down.

“Let me get you some water.” 

As he leaves the office again, you hurriedly smooth your skirt down, suddenly very aware of how much skin you’re showing. If you lift your knees your entire ass would be on display for him when he returns, but you know keeping your feet up will be good for the dizziness. You settle for an in-between, only one leg raised, and the other straight out, just as Dave returns, bottle in hand. He twists the cap open before he hands it to you.

“Thanks,” you breathe as you accept it, gulping down half the contents in one go. You hand the bottle back to him and he chugs the rest. Your eyes are fixed on his plush lips around the bottle opening that was just between your own. You wonder what they would feel like on your warm skin.

As he drinks, a stray droplet escapes from the side of his mouth, trickling down to his chin. It runs down the length of his throat, Adam’s apple bouncing when he swallows, and then the drop disappears underneath his shirt collar. Your mouth waters, yet you feel even thirstier. You’d like to rip his shirt off and lick the droplet off his chest, as if only that could quench your thirst. And you can’t help but feel… No, you can help it. You should. It’s completely inappropriate. He’s your employer, your boss, and he’s… so Goddamn good looking. Shit.

He crumples the empty plastic before throwing it away in the bin next to his desk. Slumping down in his office chair he turns his attention to the computer screen.

Typing away at his keyboard, you watch him. Doctor York? Professor York? You try to imagine him; teaching a class, doing paperwork at an office, running a store, being someone’s strict and authoritarian boss. The latter thought makes your legs clench together involuntarily. 

“What do you do?”

The question escapes you before you can help it, and you cringe slightly at your own sudden bluntness. 

“Sorry?”

“I just realized I don’t know what you do for work.”

He doesn’t look up from the screen when he speaks, but a subtle smile plays on his lips.

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.” You laugh.

“That would suck. Who would look after your kids?”

“I’d be on the run, so not me.”

“Carol, then. All alone. Poor Carol.”

“Yeah. Poor Carol…” he agrees, voice suddenly grave.

A few minutes pass, comfortable yet somehow charged silence surrounding you. When he speaks again, his tone shifts—still dark, but less grave.

"Ever been to Europe?" he asks, breaking the stillness.

The unexpected question leaves you momentarily flustered.

“Uh, yeah, I, uhm… I went backpacking there a million years ago,” you stutter.

His eyes narrow slightly. "Really?"

“Why is that so hard to believe?" you challenge, squinting back at him.

“Just a little surprising, I suppose.” 

He meets your gaze without flinching, a spark of something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes.

“I’m actually planning a trip to Belgium. Come have a look at this.”

He beckons you closer with two fingers, the gesture innocent and yet, paired with your clouded judgment and current state of mind, borderline obscene.

Carefully, you put your two feet down on the floor, taking a moment to test your balance. Once confident you won’t topple over again, you step over to his side of the workspace. You lean over his desk, one hand on the table and one on the armrest of the office chair he’s seated in, squinting at the screen. It’s probably very interesting, pictures and lists of things to do and see abroad, but the only thing you can focus on is the sliver of ass you know is revealed when you bend over in this particular skirt. You’d usually wear something more work appropriate, even just a pair of hot pants underneath. But this weather… This heat…

Dave’s gaze is just as scorching as he awaits your reaction, and you can tell he’s working hard not to let his eyes wander. Just like you do, when from the corner of your eye you spot his hand moving absentmindedly up and down his thigh, resting a little too long at the top, thumb grazing his groin.

“Want me to bring you something back?” he asks, voice low, close to a whisper, as if worried someone could hear him. 

You shift your weight from one leg to the other, giving your feet a little more space between them, making room between your thighs. Suddenly, his fingers graze the insides of your thighs and his hand trails upwards, coming to rest over the wet patch of your underwear, damp from your excitement or from the temperature you’re not sure. An audible sigh escapes you at the contact. He responds with a groan of his own as he starts drawing circles over your clothed clit.

“I’ve heard they have great chocolate,” you stutter in response to his question.

“Yeah? You got a sweet tooth?”

You wish desperately he would touch your skin, and try to angle your hips so he can slip a finger under your panties, but he just follows your movements, touching you through the fabric. You only hum in response.

“God, this isn’t right…” you hear him whisper to himself. You don’t disagree, yet neither of you make a move to stop.

His hands move to rest on your hips, and he slowly turns you to face him. Soft fingers grip you tightly. The insides of his legs brush the bare skin of your own, making you shiver despite the heat. Your eyes flutter shut.

“Look at me,” he says, pleading. So you do. The darkness of his eyes pull you in, and you’re almost taken over by the urge to lean down and kiss him. As you start to bend down, one hand resting on his shoulder, his hands on your hips keep you in place. At a distance.

“Tell me we shouldn’t do this.” His eyes rake over your body, taking you in, short fingernails digging into your skin. “Tell me this is wrong.”

It wouldn’t be a lie. It really is, and you really shouldn’t. So you’re not sure why throw one leg over his and straddle his thigh. A buzz shoots through you as your swollen core meets the tight muscle of his leg. You’re so close to him like this. So close you can feel the warm puffs of his quickened breath fan your skin, with a faint scent of coffee, toothpaste, and something else, indistinct but distinctly Dave.

Details of his complexion you’ve never noticed before become clear. The worry lines between his brows. The sharp curve of his cupid’s bow. The few hairs he’d missed while shaving, probably in a hurry, that morning.

Almost unwillingly your hips start drawing small circles, chasing release. Dave’s hands haven’t moved an inch, still gripping your hips, following your movements. His eyes are fixed at where your legs clasp around his own, soft movements growing erratic as your pleasure pulls you further.

Under his clothes he’s fully hard now, the fabric of his dress pants stretching around his erection. You imagine the weight of him in your hand, how your fingers would barely meet around his shaft when you jerk him off. You shift forward, thrusting, wanting desperately to feel him, but he holds you in place, pulling his own hips away from you.

“Nuh-uh.” One of his hands releases its grip on you and rises to gently cup your face. The tips of his fingers barely brush your skin. “Not like that.”

“What?” you breathe.

“Just…” Dave’s face contorts slightly as he sighs. “Just take what you need. What you want.”

You continue to grind on his thick thigh, drenching his trousers with each movement. Back and forth, clenching around nothing. As your breath quickens, you hunch over more and more, forehead eventually landing on Dave’s shoulder. Your teeth come down on the soft flesh of your cheek, and you chew, molars slicing through the skin until you taste blood. 

“Come on,” he purrs, his voice hoarse and vibrating in your ear. “Come on, baby, give it to me.”

“I’m gonna–

Your mouth falls open in silent moan, and you bite down on his shoulder to keep from making a sound, soaking his already damp cotton shirt in saliva and drops of blood from the inside of your mouth. His grip on your hips is relentless, and he groans through his gritted teeth as you fall over the edge.

“Fucking… come… on.”

And you do.

Your thighs clench around Dave’s, and you can feel him tense up as well, sending new waves of pleasure through your core. The buzzing vibration runs from your middle, through your spine, and sets off another spark at the very top of your skull. Your hairs stand up, goosebumps. The blood pumping in your ears deafens you momentarily. 

With your nose buried in his neck, nuzzled behind his ear, you take a few breaths to restrain yourself. His hands are looser on you now, thumbs drawing small circles on your hip bones. His chest rises and falls underneath you, slowing in time with yours.

And just as you’re about to lift your head from his shoulder, not quite ready to face the reality of what has just happened, what you’ve done, someone else breaks the silence.

“Daddy!”

Molly’s sleepy voice is unmistakable from down the hall. Dave’s hands are off you in a second, and you barely have time to react before he’s on his feet.

“Dave, I’ll take her–”

But he’s already out the door.

Once you’ve flattened your skirt and straightened up in the hallway bathroom, you find them in the kitchen. Molly is blabbering, Alice yawning, while Dave is listening and laughing, arranging their lunch in funny shapes on their plates. Cucumbers for eyes, a slice of bell pepper for a pair of red lips, a piece of mushroom becomes the nose. The children giggle at their Dad’s shenanigans. 

You stand in the doorway, observing. Domestic bliss. They’re not your kids and he’s not your husband, and this moment is not for you. As the kids’ laughter and the clang of kitchenware reverberates through the open kitchen, you catch yourself wondering how Dave will explain the stains you made on his clothes to Carol.

taglist:

@hellfire-state-of-mind @janaispunk @joelscruff @takochansugoi @paanchusblog

@pastelpinkflowerlife @mountainsandmayhem @inept-the-magnificent @bitccchmood @sullyselena

@akjnoris @teanbean521 @joelalorian @lucifurrr @theetherealbloom

@lightdragonrayne @skbeaumont @itsjoelver @fhatbhabiee @peachesandcreams-world

@clownd1ck @alwayscairo @halfpastgrace @clarysthing @mellymbee

@seasonaldelusion @scenaaario @punkshort @frogturtlejr @kt86

@sweetperfectioncloud @hannahkatharine @fandomoniumflurry @emisreadingstuff @knopes-waffles

@your-teeth-glow-in-the-dark @rsquared31 @r3dheadedwitch @alejaa-a @myhappyplaceofstuff

@yodasgreenthumb @dovedewdrop @saradika @clawdee @harrisonispunk

@lostfleurs @always-andromeda @amanitacowboy

Ahhh I love how you involved the A/B/O dynamics in this!!! ❤️

Such a good read!

Can You Remember Who You Were?

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: When you struggle to stop obsessing about the handsome stranger you met at a coffee shop who ghosted you after one date, fate eventually forces you back together.

Warnings: language, possessive behavior, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, oral sex (f!receiving), omegaverse dynamics, alcohol consumption, minor physical altercation

WC: 9.1K

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: For @burntheedges's Roll a Trope challenge I got reincarnation. I also mixed in some a/b/o stuff because I've always wanted to give it a try. Go easy on me, I'm nervous about this one - hope you enjoy. And thank you to @txtattoostark for holding my hand.

When you first met, it was happenstance. An awkward run-in at your favorite coffee shop where he thought your coffee was his until he read your name written on the cup aloud and had the grace to look bashful when he handed it over. A moment later, his own order was ready and you caught the name Dave scrawled on the side. He smiled and raised his cup to you before taking a sip and wishing you a good day before disappearing out onto the busy street.

It was a simple interaction. Nothing terribly special. But you couldn't stop thinking about him the rest of the day.

Dave, Dave, Dave.

Dave, with the soft, gentle brown eyes. Dave, with the chiseled, clean shaven jaw and strong, angular nose. Dave, with the broad shoulders that strained underneath his blue button-down shirt. Dave, with the bare ring finger that still had a visible, yet faded, tan line.

Something about him stuck with you. You felt drawn to him. Connected, somehow, yet you didn't even know him.

After the weekend passed, you managed to clear him from your mind, if only because you stayed as busy as possible. You cleaned your apartment top to bottom. You went to a concert for a band you didn't even like with your friends. You even called your parents and suffered through another phone call where you heard about your brother and sister's lives, how their respective children were, how your brother got a promotion and your sister was thinking of having a third baby. The unspoken question hung heavy in the air, your parents already knowing the answer and predicting your negative reaction by now, so it remained unsaid. But it still stung to be compared to your siblings in that way. Your parents had a skewed notion that maybe it would encourage you to try a little harder if they kept pointing out your brother's success and your sister's natural instinct for motherhood, but it only made you draw into yourself tighter.

Once it was Monday again, you dragged yourself to work. You were so tired from your overly busy weekend that you didn't even think about Dave when you entered the coffee shop. You stood in line, zoning out and in desperate need of caffeine when the door swung open and shut behind you and the sound of dress shoes tapping on the hardwood floors neared.

"Promise not to steal your coffee again."

You swiveled around, eyes wide and heart rattling in your chest when you fixed your gaze on none other than Dave. And much to your dismay, he looked even better than you remembered.

"Oh," you squeaked, subconsciously fixing your hair and glancing around to buy yourself a moment to recover. "Hi again. Two days in a row, what are the odds?" you chuckled dryly, hoping you didn't sound as stupid as you felt. Dave shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled down at you.

"Could've been four but I guess you don't come here on the weekends."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you struggled to respond. Dave took that to mean he caused you offense and quickly rectified it, not wanting to sound like a stalker.

"I'm just kidding."

You laughed and rubbed the scar on the back of your neck, your head spinning. Was he just kidding? Did he come here over the weekend? And if he did, was he hoping to run into you?

"I work around the corner," you explained, telling him the company you worked for. Your mother would have scolded you for telling a stranger where you worked, especially one who might have just admitted to coming to the coffee shop in the hopes of running into you, but you knew it was safe. You didn't know how you knew, you just knew.

Dave nodded and was about to speak when the barista ushered you forward so you could place your order. Before you had a chance to pull out your wallet, Dave leaned over you to tell the barista you were together and added his order before handing over his card.

You couldn't stop the shudder that went down your spine when you heard him speak so close to you, the vibrations of his voice sending a current of electricity through you. At this distance, you could practically smell him, too, and it wasn't just his cologne. It was something else that you couldn't identify but had you weak in the knees.

To be polite, you turned to deny his offer, but he spoke first. And when he did, telling you not to argue and he was happy to do it, his voice deepened and the timber alone caused your body to weaken and your eyes cast down obediently.

"Do you work around here, too?" you asked once you got your coffees and you thanked him for the third time.

"No, I don't."

He walked towards the door and held it open for you, a fourth thank you slipping from your lips. You got the feeling he liked hearing you so thankful and sweet. He smiled every time you said it.

"What brings you out this way, then? Do you live nearby? I don't think I've seen you here before."

Dave walked you to the corner where a shiny, black BMW sat parked.

"Let's just say there's something about the atmosphere I like at this place."

Your face flushed and you took a sip from your coffee, burning your tongue in the process, while you tried to think of something to say. Then you heard the bells from a nearby church and you were stricken with panic.

"Oh, shit! It's already eight?" you asked, yanking your phone out to check the time. You were already late and you still had a ten minute walk ahead of you.

"Come on, get in," Dave said, holding open the passenger side door. "I'll drop you off. You said it's just down the street?"

You contemplated his offer for about three seconds before nodding and jumping into his car. In only took him about two minutes to drop you off in front of your building but you couldn't stop thanking him the entire way, something that continued to delight him.

The rest of the week followed the same pattern. You showed up at your usual time and mysteriously, Dave would appear within a few minutes. He would insist on buying your coffee and on nice days, he would walk you to work. If it was rainy or windy, he would drive you.

By Friday he finally asked for your number and by Saturday you were getting ready for your first date.

Shannon was your age but she always seemed to be so much wiser and grounded. She had a very different view on life, but she was sweet and fun and you got along the moment you met. While you were used to going out to bars on a Friday night, Shannon preferred to stay in and read about horoscopes, take stock of her essential oils, do some light yoga, or scour eBay for rare crystals. You thought she was a hippie, she preferred spiritually inclined.

Regardless of your differences, she still was a wonderful person and was always there for you. Whether you were going through a bad breakup or upset about something your mom said, she would always be there to listen, rub your back, and kindly suggest a way to unblock your chakra.

You had a handful of other friends who would gladly come over and drink wine while you tried on outfits and help with your makeup, but that wasn't what you needed. You had something else entirely on your mind and you couldn't think of anyone else who might be able to help besides Shannon.

"I've been having dreams."

Shannon raised an eyebrow so far up, it got lost under her curly blonde bangs and thick rimmed glasses.

"What sort of dreams?"

You sighed and sat down on the edge of your bed, your dress partially zipped. "About Dave. And me. And it's just... strange."

Shannon shifted a bit on your mattress, her clunky jade bracelets knocking together in the process. "Go on."

"It feels like a reoccurring dream, but it's not exactly the same. The feeling is the same, though."

"I see," she said thoughtfully. "And what are you doing in these dreams?"

Your face warmed up and you stared at the floor when you said, "Well, we're having sex. But it's not just sex. It's different. Like," you waved your hands in the air as you struggled to come up with an explanation. "I know this will sound crazy, but it feels like in my dreams, we have more of a connection. Like, a purpose or something? And in my dreams it feels so much more intense compared to other guys I've slept with."

"How so?"

You had to give her credit. Shannon was too kind to ever tease you.

"Intense like... if we don't fuck, I'll go certifiably insane."

"Oh," she said, nodding her head, completely unphased. "Interesting. It kind of sounds like something I've read about once before. Have you ever heard of -"

Your doorbell buzzed and you leapt off the bed. "Oh, my god! Zip me up! He's here!"

When you flung your front door open, Dave spun around with a smile, one which widened when his eyes drifted appreciatively up and down your frame.

"Hey," you said breathlessly, feeling that magnetic pull low in your belly again just at the mere sight of him.

"You look beautiful," he told you, and just as he was about to lean in and kiss your cheek, he spotted Shannon emerge from your bedroom behind you with a little wave.

"Oh, this is my friend, she was helping me get ready," you said, turning to introduce them while you grabbed a leather jacket and your purse.

"Have a great time, I'll lock up when I leave."

You both thanked her before heading outside towards Dave's car. His arm naturally found its place protectively around your waist and you practically glowed from his touch.

Dave picked a restaurant that you'd never heard of and when you walked inside, you quickly figured out why. It was easily the fanciest place you had ever eaten and if it wasn't for his reassuring touch or warm smile, you would have felt out of place. But once you sat down, the rest of the room melted away and it was just the two of you in your own little world. The entire time you both were leaning across the table, bodies pulling closer and closer on their own accord as you absorbed every little detail about each other. You learned Dave used to be in the military and now works as an operative in the CIA, something that should have intimidated you but it just made him more attractive. He was a protector, he knew how to handle himself and he was smart, qualities which turned you on and had you yearning for more.

When he admitted to being recently divorced, the hairs on your arm stood up and jealousy bloomed hot in your chest. The sudden idea of him with another partner unlocked something inside you that screamed mine, mine, mine.

By all accounts, your first date was perfect. There was never any lack of topics for conversation, you always felt perfectly at ease and safe, and it went by way too fast even though you were the last table to leave the restaurant.

But when he dropped you off and walked you to your door, something changed from that point forward. He kissed you, gently and sweetly at first, but when your lips brushed together for the very first time it set something on fire inside you that you couldn't ignore. You had no idea how it happened, but the next thing you knew he was pinning you up against your door, your wrists captured in each of his massive hands and held next to your head while his tongue licked aggressively into your mouth.

Then you released a little whimper, a little cry against his mouth and it nearly brought him to his knees. The needy sound reverberated through his entire being and had him forgetting who he was, where he was, what planet he was on because that little sound had his body and mind responding in a way he couldn't explain.

And it frightened him.

He pulled away and put some distance between you, palm dragging over his wet mouth, eyes hungrily devouring your wrecked state. Still leaning against the door, you panted heavily and stared at him through heavy lidded eyes.

He scratched at something invisible behind his ear and took a deep, steadying breath.

"I should go."

You frowned, still trying to catch your breath. "W-what? Was it something -"

Dave quickly shook his head and stepped further away.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," he promised, then turned on his heel, practically running back to his car while you stood there, completely dumbfounded.

As it turned out, you did not hear from him the following day. Nor did you see him at your coffee spot the entire fucking week. By Tuesday, after sending a few pathetic texts that went unanswered, you forced yourself to accept reality.

Dave ghosted you and you would never see him again.

It was just one date. You only knew him for a week but it felt like so much more and you couldn't help but be torn up about it.

On Tuesday night, you called Shannon to tell her. You did your best not to cry but she could hear it in your voice.

"It felt like such a strong connection, you know?" you said sadly, plucking at a loose thread on your sweater.

"Well, what do you think happened?"

You shrugged and tossed yourself backwards onto your bed. "I don't know. The date went great, he dropped me off at the front door, we were kissing and things were getting heated and then all of the sudden, just -" you snapped your fingers. "He had to leave. Said he would talk to me the next day and I never heard from him again."

You heard her hum on the other end and clink a spoon in her mug. "Suppose my silly theory was wrong, then."

"What theory?"

"The dreams you were having and the feelings you were describing sounded like something I've read in one of my books, I wondered if it were real."

One of her books. You rolled your eyes, knowing she had a very strange collection of reference material spanning from meditation and Hinduism to books about Karma and the Kama Sutra.

Even so, you humored her and let her continue.

"Do you believe in past lives?" she asked. You hid your scoff behind your hand and cleared your throat.

"Uh, can't say that I do."

"That's okay, I know it's a bit out there, but it sounds very much like you might have a connection with this man that supersedes this earthly plane. And what I mean is, you may be destined to be together."

"Like, soulmates?" you asked dubiously.

"Mmm, not exactly. What I'm thinking is a little more physical. I have a book that talks about reincarnation and the ability to imprint on another person to the degree where the link follows you throughout all your lives. If it's at all possible, you will always find each other. Although it's usually pretty rare..."

"What do you mean, if it's possible?"

Shannon flipped through some pages of a book, humming under her breath before she said, "Well, if one of you comes back as a bear and the other a human, odds are it won't be a happy reunion."

You couldn't help it, you had to laugh. Shannon wasn't offended. She knew you didn't mean any disrespect and her beliefs were a little more difficult for others to understand.

"Okay, thank you. I needed a reality check," you said with a smile. "I hear what you're saying: we just met and there's zero reason for me to be acting this way."

"No, that's not at all what I mean," Shannon replied. "I haven't actually known anyone personally who went through something like this, but I've read about this phenomenon online."

"Alright, this is getting a little too weird, even for me," you said, sitting up in bed.

"Just Google it!" Shannon told you before you finished your call. "Read what others have said and see if you can relate."

You promised her you would give it a try the next day but you never got around to it. Instead, you went back to moping and staring at your ignored texts to Dave for the rest of the week.

By the time Friday came, you were ready to blow off some steam, refusing to spend another night wasting away over some man who just happened to be an insanely good kisser and whose scent you couldn't erase from your memory.

You agreed to go out with a small group of girls after work. The alcohol buzzing in your veins and the loud music in the bar helped you forget about Dave, but when other men approached you to dance, you just couldn't do it. You politely turned them down and stayed with your co-workers, Dave's rejection still leaving its mark on you. You listened to them complain about a team lead they couldn't stand who got a promotion she didn't deserve and then, as they began to drink a little more, discussed the finer qualities of the cute guy in the mail room.

In retrospect, leaving by yourself when you became too tired wasn't the best choice. You had a longer walk back to your bus stop than usual and it was eerily quiet out, but you wrapped your arms around yourself and kept your head down. And it almost worked, too, until you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"Need a ride, pretty girl?"

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and you kept pushing forward after tossing a no, thanks over your shoulder.

"Don't need to be rude," the voice replied, now much closer. You glanced around nervously and didn't see another soul on the street. Only parked cars.

You moved faster but it wasn't good enough. A hand clasped onto your shoulder, grip firm and frightening, and fear shot through you. You broke out into a cold sweat when he pushed you against a building, caging you in and leering down at you, his sour breath poisoned by alcohol. You recognized him as someone from the bar but before you had a chance to process anything else, two massive hands dug into his shoulders and yanked him away in the blink of an eye.

You shirked away when you heard a fist meeting soft tissue, then the clattering of teeth and a pained groan. Your savior's voice growled threateningly, warning the man to get the fuck out of here before I put you in the goddamn hospital, then you heard the squeaking of shoes against concrete and hurried, retreating footsteps down the street.

You were scared. He could sense it. He could fucking smell it. It made his skin crawl and his stomach turn.

Dave's voice was so deep and gravelly, you didn't even recognize him. Not until he crouched in front of you on the street, his dark eyes filled with worry as they scanned your face for any injury did you realize it was even him. Tears welled up in your eyes and he cupped your face. He looked like he was in extreme pain as he watched your tears begin to fall. He then stood, scooping you up so he could carry you to a nearby parked car.

"I'm going to take you home," he said when he placed you gently in the front seat. You had about fifteen seconds to gather your thoughts while he hurried around to the other side of his car.

"Why are you here, Dave?" you asked when he turned his key in the ignition. He paused momentarily before putting his seatbelt on and merging onto the empty street.

"Right place, right time," he muttered. He was gripping the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles turned white. You watched him closely from the passenger seat, not believing him for one second but for some inexplicable reason, it didn't frighten you. In fact, you liked it. The idea of Dave being nearby, possibly watching you, made you feel safe and protected, although you hardly knew him.

You took a deep breath, about to muster up the courage to ask him why he had ignored you all week when you were suddenly overwhelmed with his scent. You couldn't describe it but it was a smell uniquely tied to him. You made a little noise in the back of your throat and squirmed in your seat, desperately trying to stay focused and present, but your body had other plans.

Dave's eyes shifted to you, his nostrils flaring at the way your legs rubbed together and your breath picked up and then he smelled it: the first scent of your arousal in the air. That was all it took for him to forget who he was and succumb to his baser instincts.

His cock throbbed painfully hard in his jeans and his molars were practically ground to dust by the time he arrived at your apartment. You fumbled with the seatbelt, desperate to disappear inside and pretend this embarrassing interaction never happened, but you weren't fast enough. Dave had gotten out of the car so quickly that he was already yanking your door open and violently pulling the seatbelt away from your waist. You blinked up at him as if you were trying to clear your vision and jumped out of the car.

Something felt wrong.

You had an ache between your legs that was growing impossible to ignore and your brain was a hazy, swirly mess being so close to his scent. Did someone spike your drink at the bar?

"Thanks," you whispered, chest rising and falling faster as you tried to drag in more air. Your skin was far too sensitive. All you could think about was getting inside before you tore your clothes off in the middle of the parking lot. "I'll, um, see you around, I guess."

He nodded, his neck and cheeks tinted pink as he stared down at you hungrily. "Wait," he croaked when you made a move to leave, eyes burning red hot into you. "Can we - can I explain - fuck," he winced, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to block your scent from his nostrils so he could take a second to fucking think. He felt like he was going insane and he had no idea why.

"You wanna come inside and explain why you haven't talked to me in a week?" you asked bitterly, your arousal temporarily forgotten. "Why you've been ignoring me? Why you made me feel terrible? I was out tonight trying to forget you, Dave. I was hoping it would be the first night all week I didn't cry, but it's too late for that."

He swallowed thickly, eyes all wide and filled with despair as he gazed down at you. "I made you cry?" he asked softly. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him that he failed, that he did the one fucking thing he shouldn't have done.

You huffed and crossed your arms before looking away. "You hurt my feelings, Dave," you mumbled.

His heart lurched in his chest and he took a step forward to gently cup your face. Despite your anger, you gazed up at him with glassy eyes and almost immediately melted into his touch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm so, so sorry. Will you let me explain?"

Reluctantly, you nodded and allowed him to trail after you to your front door.

You flicked the lights on in your kitchen and living room before turning around. Dave stood there looking too big in your average sized apartment, gaze drifting over your walls, your pictures, your plants, your life.

With a little distance, he could feel the clouds clearing and his senses returning, so he took a steadying breath before speaking.

"About last week," he began. You were in the middle of closing your curtains when you turned around to listen. "I didn't want to scare you, but something happened to me that night." You frowned, pulling the curtains closed the rest of the way and took a few steps towards him. Almost instantly he could smell you again, the wetness between your legs practically calling to him, and he quickly held up both hands so you would stop.

"You gotta stay over there," he warned. Hurt flickered over your face but you obeyed and stepped back until you were by the window again. After a moment, the air cleared enough so he could focus and he slowly dropped his hands back to his sides. He was so hard, it almost made him sick.

"I'm sorry," he said once again. "That's part of what I'm talking about. When you're close to me," he pursed his lips and dropped his chin to his chest while you patiently waited for him to continue. "When you're close to me, I can't fucking think straight. And I know it sounds dramatic," he chuckled, looking back up at you across the room. "I know it sounds like I'm making it up but I promise you, I'm not."

"I think I know what you mean," you said softly after a quiet moment. His eyebrows raised a bit, curious for you to elaborate. "It's like... your scent."

"Yes!" Dave exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "I don't understand it but you're giving off a scent and it's doing something to me. Something that frightens me."

You swallowed nervously and took a small step forward.

"Would you... hurt me?"

Dave's eyes went wide and he vigorously shook his head.

"No," he whispered, "never."

You took another step forward and his eyes flickered down to your feet.

"Then what would you do to me?"

His eyes slid shut and he crossed his arms over his chest. What wouldn't he do to you? He would bury his face between your legs until you screamed his name. He would stuff you full of his cock over and over, as many times as you could take it. He wanted to leave love bites all over your body so anyone looking at you would know you're his.

But that would be absurd. You just met and only had one date.

Without even needing to open his eyes, he knew you were closer. The thick smell of your slick filled the air, swirling around him, driving him to the brink of insanity until he was convinced the only cure would be to fuck you senseless.

"I feel it, too, Dave," you whispered, your hands coming up to pull lightly on his arms, unknotting them from their protective place over his chest. You nipped hesitantly at his neck, your lips puckering over his tanned skin, and he felt his resolve crumble.

"Fuck, what is this?" he breathed, his body pulling him forward. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. His mouth pressed into your hair, deeply breathing in your scent, then he dragged his mouth lower. His tongue flicked out to taste your skin, the burst of flavor - you - making his head swim the closer he got to the back of your neck. Before he reached the scar you kept hidden by your hair, he pulled back, gasping for air.

"Come with me," you said with heavy lidded eyes and wet, parted lips. He nodded and followed you, logic and reason fading with each step. He had never felt like this before. It felt like he was being driven by pure instinct, like some kind of animal.

Dave swallowed when you pulled your shirt over your head as you walked, your bare back teasing him with what he could not yet see. Then you worked on your pants, unbuttoning and shimmying out of them as you approached your bed. His cock strained against the metal zipper of his jeans, begging to be touched, begging to be buried deep inside your soaked cunt. And it was soaked. He could see your dampness darkening the fabric of your underwear when you bent forward.

Finally, you turned to face him wearing nothing but your panties and a nervous smile. A low groan escaped from the back of his throat while his gaze drifted slowly down your body, taking in every soft curve and slope while he began to unbutton his shirt.

"You're perfect," he said lowly, shrugging off his shirt before his hands found his belt. "I want you so fucking bad, sweetheart, it hurts. I want to make you mine, make you scream my name til it's the only word you ever remember. I want to fill you up so you're feeling me for days. Want to give you everything you could ever need. Then I want to do it all over again."

Your knees felt weak as you felt another wave of arousal spread through your stomach and between your legs. Shakily, you crawled onto the bed as Dave approached like a predator from the doorway, shedding his clothes and pinning you with an intense stare that, if it were anyone else, would make you nervous.

"You want all that?" he asked you. You were nodding but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the bulge straining in his boxers now that he stepped out of his pants. "Say it," he commanded, and something about his tone made your eyes snap up to his and your spine immediately straighten.

"Yes. I want it. I want you," you replied, then reached your arms out for him to join you. A pleased look passed across his face at your invitation as he kneeled on the bed with you, towering over you with his broad frame, making you feel so small.

He leaned forward with his hands brushing lightly over your shoulders and his lips parted as he admired you openly. Then he murmured, "Lay down and spread your legs," and you felt your stomach flip as you did what you were told.

Dave palmed himself through his boxers when his eyes locked onto the wet spot spreading in your underwear. His long fingers hooked around the fabric and pulled them down, slowly exposing yourself to him. You watched, squirming impatiently, as his eyes turned from brown to almost black when he took a deep breath and spread your legs wide into the bedding.

"I need you," you whimpered. Your skin felt like it was on fire and you were so aroused it almost fucking hurt but you were certain Dave would be able to fix it. You didn't know why or how, but you just knew.

"I know, baby," he said, shifting down so he laid between your legs, his angular nose nudging against your folds and his hot breath fanning over your leaking cunt. You shivered and whined but his big hands held you in place.

"I'm gonna take good care of you, don't worry," was the last thing he said before he placed a sweet kiss on your mound. Then he kissed you again except that time, his tongue flicked out, catching your clit, and the noise that came from your mouth was borderline embarrassing.

"God, you're so wet," he whispered in awe inbetween plunging his tongue in and out of your opening, reveling in the taste of your pussy. The way your scent had engulfed him made him feel insane and the only thing he wanted to do was pull more sweet noises from your lips.

There was no explaining that night. At least, not rationally. The two of you fell into something neither of you experienced before but somehow was all too familiar. You found yourself being far more submissive than you ever were with anybody else, like your body had taken over and knew just what to do. Anything Dave asked of you, you did it, trusting him implicitly.

It was a combination of your sobs and whimpers that drove him forward like an animal, unable to stop eating at your cunt until you came twice from his tongue. You finally had to tug on his hair to pull him away, your skin coated in a thin layer of sweat and chest heaving beneath him.

"Could smell you all fucking night," he admitted hoarsely, wiping his palm over his slick covered mouth. "Drove me crazy, couldn't stop thinking about it. Christ, I- I've never needed someone this badly, baby," he told you as he pushed his boxers off and gripped the base of his cock in his fist. "'M sorry, can't explain it-"

"I know," you croaked before hauling yourself up from the mattress. You moved towards him on your knees, legs still wobbly but you managed to hold yourself up. "I feel it, too. I don't want to leave this bed for a week," you murmured before pressing your lips against his and groaning at the taste of you on his mouth. Again, all you could think was mine, mine, mine. You were consumed by the thought, overwhelmed by the idea of Dave smelling like you so everybody would know he was yours.

Your tongue dove into his mouth greedily, a sentiment he easily returned. You dragged your fingers through his hair, down his neck, over his broad shoulders and down his soft stomach until you found his cock standing at attention between you.

"I- shit," Dave moaned when your lips nipped and sucked down his jaw until you found a tender spot behind his ear you seemed to like while your fist slowly pumped him up and down. "I don't have a condom, I didn't think... do you have any?"

You did, but you paused and thought about it. Even though you were on birth control, you still always used a condom, just to be extra safe. But the idea of having a barrier between you and Dave just felt wrong. You wanted to feel him bare, you needed it. So, you decided on a non-answer.

"I'm on birth control," you whispered, and Dave seemed just as relieved as you at the prospect of taking you raw. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the way you continued to suck and bite at the spot behind his ear while stroking his cock. He wanted to tell you there was a scar there, one he couldn't remember getting, but he was struggling to form a coherent thought.

When your teeth grazed his skin too harshly, he growled and bared his teeth like a goddamn animal, but not because it hurt. Because it felt good.

"Think you can take it, baby?" he rasped, fingers pressing into the softness of your hips.

"Mhmm," you hummed, finally tearing yourself away from his neck, proudly leaving a little red mark of your own before letting go of his cock and twisting around to fall onto all fours.

Dave moaned at the sight of you presenting yourself to him on a silver fucking platter before crawling forward.

He took hold of himself, all heavy and leaking, so he could notch at your entrance. He hummed a little, enjoying the way your warmth spread over his engorged tip, using it to spread your slick around to make it easier to first enter you.

Impatiently, you wiggled a little and tried to spear yourself on him, but he chuckled and grabbed your waist, making you still.

"Want it that bad?" he taunted, voice dropping low, the lust in his veins pumping hard and fast through every inch of his body.

"Yes," you whined, tilting your head back as if you were in pain. "Yes. Please, Dave, don't tease me."

And how could he deny you? He simply wasn't strong enough, his need for you so hot that it burned through his resolve in a matter of seconds.

His eyelids fluttered when his tip slipped past your folds, jaw dropped when he first pressed a few inches inside, face twisting and breath growing ragged when his hips finally came flush with your ass.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, blinking away the tears that suddenly burned his eyes. Shaky hands found your hips and he braced himself, taking a few deep breaths while he waited for your walls to relax and your whimpering to quiet down.

Dave swallowed and looked down, nearly coming apart right then and there at the sight.

"God, baby, you oughta see the way you stretch for me," he breathed, still staring down where you were connected. "That feel good? Hm? Talk to me," he pleaded before drawing back an inch just to watch more of your arousal get pushed out when he slid back inside.

"Yes," you hissed, "I'm so hot, Dave, it feels like I'm on fucking fire, please fucking move."

"Are you sure?" he asked, but his hips had already begun to rock into you without his permission. You nodded and let your eyes fall closed so you could focus on the way each one of his thrusts and grunts soothed the flames roaring inside you.

"Harder," you whispered, not even sure he heard it, but then a moment later his grip around you tightened and his hips snapped faster, the sounds of his skin slapping against your ass filling the room and making you dizzy.

You heard him whispering something to himself but you couldn't make it out. You craned your neck back, bleary eyes trying to find his but every forceful thrust of his hips jolted your entire body and sent you halfway up the bed just to have his massive hands drag you back down.

"Fuck it," he murmured before grabbing you by the shoulders and yanking you up so your back was pressed to his chest. You gasped in surprise and cried out at his relentless pace, never once missing a beat. One of your hands reached around to grab the hair on the back of his head, pulling him close so his mouth was directly next to your ear.

"So - fucking - tight. Want you so - fucking - bad," he whispered through clenched teeth. Both his arms circled around your middle in order to keep you steady, sweaty skin sticking to sweaty skin. You twisted your neck, seeking out his mouth so you could swallow down those words and have them echo like the beat of a drum inside you.

Your lips crashed together, messily licking and biting at one another while he grunted and growled, hammering into you with everything he had. The tip of his cock reached a spot deep within you that forced all the air from your lungs just to be followed by a sharp gasp. It was making you lightheaded, the persistent pattern - grunt, thrust, gasp, grunt, thrust, gasp - and then his hand traveled lower.

"Oh!" you cried out, your fingers slipping through the thick hair on the back of his head and body slumping a bit but he kept a firm hold around your ribs, still pressing you against his front while his fingers rubbed fast, precise circles over your clit.

Your thighs began to shake and your hips sunk lower, unable to keep yourself from giving into the pleasure mounting low in your belly. Your muscles fucking burned from the effort to stay upright, even with his help it was becoming impossible to do.

"Dave," you whimpered, eyes squeezed shut as your head came to rest on his shoulder. It was all you could remember to say, Dave, Dave, Dave. Just like he said. And it was perfect because that was all he wanted to hear.

"You're close," he murmured, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, fingers working expertly over your clit and hips still snapping tirelessly against your ass. You just nodded, slack jawed, as you focused on your release. So close. So fucking close, you wanted to say, but no words came out.

"Give it to me," he growled, voice sounding like a command. Your eyes flew open and a moment later, you came. You bore down on him, pussy clenching around his thick shaft still slamming inside you, in and out, in and out, while you wailed his name over and over until you grew weak and your muscles threatened to give out.

Dave made a pleased sound before pushing you forward onto the bed. You fell onto your forearms with a huff, still in a rosy haze from your orgasm. One hand gripped your hip, the other your shoulder, and he used you. He fucking used you to get himself off, slamming into you as hard as he liked, chasing his release, puffing and growling above you until he finally stilled and you felt his spend slowly fill you up.

"Fuck!" Dave groaned, gaze pinned to the way he spilled out of you when he pulled out. "Fucking beautiful, baby," he whispered hoarsely, still panting for breath as he continued to watch. You whined and your hips began to drop, so he collapsed next to you and tugged you against him, spooning you with his face pressed into your shoulder and his hands soothingly stroking any part of you he could reach.

"I'll... I'll get you something in a minute," he muttered, chest still heaving as he held you close. You just shook your head and closed your eyes.

"It's okay," you whispered softly.

There was so much you wanted to say, but fear held you back. You wanted to tell him how incredible it was, how you never came that hard before in your life, how amazing you felt now that he finally gave you what you needed.

Once his breathing evened out, he began to nose gently at your back. He trailed up through your hair, pushing it aside until his tongue found the skin on the back of your neck. It felt so good, melting in his arms and sharing in a warm glow while he bit and licked at the back of your neck. It didn't even strike you as an odd thing to do, the pair of you were too deep to recognize it.

With a sigh, you lifted his left hand from your stomach and examined his long fingers, your own slowly tracing his as he continued to mindlessly suck at your neck.

"What's the story here?" you asked bravely, tapping twice on the tan line of his ring finger. "You never really said much."

He grunted into your skin and forced himself to unlatch from your neck.

"Was married," he said simply. "Didn't work out."

You hummed and laced your fingers with his while he watched from over your shoulder. His cock twitched alive against your thigh when you wiggled in his grasp.

"Why?"

He shrugged, lips dragging over your shoulder. If someone had asked him that six months ago, he would have had a much more emotional reaction. Anger mixed with pain, most likely. But you had somehow managed to dwindle it down to a light shrug.

"Don't think it was just one thing," he admitted.

You nodded solemnly, thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles.

"Does it still hurt to talk about?" you asked him. You wished you knew more but you feared you might burst the perfect little bubble you had found yourselves in.

Dave smiled and, with his free hand, lifted your leg so your ankle rested on the outside of his knee.

"Not anymore," he said right before sinking back inside you.

It was the dreams that finally made you both snap out of the lust filled stupor you were lost in.

Dave had spent the night and entire next day with you, only giving yourselves enough time to eat and rest in between the countless times you found yourself impaled on his cock. It was sometime in the mid afternoon when you had fallen asleep on his chest that you awoke with a start, unable to shaky an eerie feeling.

"Dave?"

His eyes snapped open and found yours, looking slightly rattled, himself.

You breathed a sigh of relief and nuzzled into his bare chest. "I had such a weird dream."

"Me, too," he said, voice thick with sleep. He swiped a palm over his face before stretching both arms above his head. "What was yours about?"

You went on to tell him about the very vivid dream you had about him, although the man in your dreams didn't look like Dave nor did he have the same name, you just somehow knew it was him. With your face heating up, you glazed over the part where you fucked like animals in heat for a week straight and all together left out the end where you had a full blown family together, figuring it would be a bit too much and it would most definitely scare him off. But much to your surprise, he detailed a dream of his own that was so similar, it gave you goosebumps.

"Maybe we need to get out of this apartment for five fucking minutes," you joked, yet still couldn't shake the lingering feeling of familiarity.

After a few moments where you both remained quiet and lost in thought, Dave spoke again.

"There was something else."

You tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

"I think we had... a family."

Dave closed his eyes as if he too felt like saying it would be too much too fast, but you shot up excitedly in bed.

"We had kids in my dream, too," you confessed, and the both of you stared at one another in shock. "And this isn't the first time, either," you added. Embarrassment was the furthest thing from your mind now as the words came tumbling from your lips. "I had them before we even had our first date."

Dave's eyes went wide and he sat up, as well.

"Shit," he muttered, "me, too. Thought I was crazy."

"Maybe we are," you huffed, still in complete disbelief. Then you remembered what Shannon had said when you poured your heart out to her and your brow furrowed before digging in the sheets for your phone.

"What is it?" he asked as he watched you.

"My friend, the one you met the night we had our date," you said as you busily focused on your phone. "She knows a little about this stuff. She's a little strange but -"

"Let's go talk to her," he said before you even had to ask. You sent your text and looked around your room.

Could you really have known one another in a past life?

You weren't sure how you got there, but in just a few short days you found yourselves standing outside the old Victorian house of Talia Carter, a friend of Shannon's whom she recommended the minute she read your text about your shared dreams.

Talia, or 'Duchess' as she preferred to be called, claimed to be clairvoyant and promised she would be able to do readings on you both to find out if your hunch was right or if you were both just certifiably insane.

Despite all the evidence, you still had your doubts as you climbed the old wooden steps of her porch. Talia swung the door open, her bright red lipstick laid on thick and stretched into a wide smile framed by her very long, straight dark hair. But her smile faded almost instantly once she saw you and she gripped the doorframe for support, alarming you both. She quickly shook her head and refocused her gaze on you both before apologizing and ushering you inside.

You hesitated for a moment and glanced up at Dave.

"My friend Shannon called, I'm -"

"I know, sweetheart," she said as if it were clear as day. "I know exactly who you are."

Dave's hand fell to your lower back and he peered inside her house before determining she wasn't some kind of obvious psycho before nodding to you and taking your hand. Talia bit back a smile and she stepped aside, holding the door open wide for you both.

"If you would like to follow me, I have a study where I do my readings just off the kitchen. Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked over her shoulder, leading you past a dark cherry wooden dining room table and matching China cabinet, as well as countless green plants stuck on every flat surface.

"No, thank you," you said, gaze roaming around the room, temporarily stunned by the very unique Elizabethan style she chose. It seemed as though she liked her wallpaper dark and oriental rugs mismatched. The woodwork appeared to be all original, or at least it was made to look that way, and it was all meticulously cared for.

"I prefer to model my home after my own past life," she said when she caught you gawking at the beautiful wainscotting and then the glittery chandelier above her desk.

The two of you sunk down into a soft velvet sofa across from her.

"You remember your past life?" Dave asked, his hand falling to your knee, body curling protectively around you when he crossed a leg and leaned forward. Talia noticed but she didn't say a word. Not yet.

"Yes. I believe Shannon mentioned I preferred to go by Duchess," she explained as she pulled out some tarot cards as well as a few books from the built in bookshelf behind her. "I was the Duchess of Argyll and I still very much connect with that lifestyle, so I have tried to recreate it in my home."

"Well, you've done a beautiful job," you told her honestly. She paused and gave you a sweet smile before opening one of her books and flipping through the pages.

"You are very kind, thank you," she said, "but we are not here to talk about my past life. We are here to talk about yours."

You bit your lip and leaned closer to Dave. Without even looking up, she asked, "Hundreds of years ago, the human race was suffering and on the brink of going extinct. It's believed Mother Nature took over and created ranks among human beings in order to boost the population. Have you ever heard of Alphas and Omegas?"

You both frowned and shook your heads. When she found the page she wanted, she lit up and turned it around, pushing it across the desk so you could see.

"I could do a reading on you both, but it's simply not necessary," she said. You were about to lean forward to look at the page when you froze.

"Why?"

She grinned and sat back in her chair, looking at the two of you like she couldn't believe her eyes.

"I sensed it the moment I saw you. You were mates in a prior life," she replied. She pointed to Dave's hand on your knee. "You're very protective of her, yes?"

Dave shrugged and scooted closer to the edge of the sofa. "That isn't unusual."

"No, you're right," she said, then leaned forward to rest her elbows on her desk, lacing her fingers together. "But tell me, do you have any noticeable scars? Maybe ones you have trouble remembering how they came to be?"

Your hand immediately came up to rub the back of your neck and Dave noticed. Visions of him licking and biting in that very same spot swam in your memories and you glanced up at him once again, watching as he came to the same realization.

"How did you get that?" he asked you softly. Your eyes darted wildly back and forth between his before answering.

"My mom and dad always told me different stories, I'm not - I was never really sure."

Then you recalled how fixated you were on the spot behind his ear the first time you had sex and you lunged forward, brushing his hair out of the way with a gasp.

"Where did -"

"I don't know," he said immediately, the energy in the room shifting as you both stumbled into something inexplicable. "I grew up in an orphanage. No one was ever able to tell me."

Your eyes watered for a moment at the thought of a young Dave growing up scared and all alone, but you forced yourself to put it out of your mind for now. You turned back to Talia, who was watching you both with an unreadable expression.

You told her everything. You told her about your dreams, the extraordinary pull between you, the intensity and passion when you had sex, the hopelessness you felt when you thought he rejected you. And most importantly, the calm and secure feeling whenever he was near.

She gave the book a little nudge and you took it on your lap so the two of you could read, but you were hardly absorbing any of it. The words knot, glands, scent marking, heat, imprinting floated across the page while she spoke, explaining everything she knew. And as crazy as it all sounded, neither of you could deny the signs.

You stayed for over an hour, asking question after question. She explained how your scars were most likely remnants of the scent glands that each of you pierced, which bonded you forever as mates. How the dreams that you both had were memories of your past life and the unbreakable bond you shared was what drew you together. When you mentioned the way your body felt like it was on fire, skin hot to the touch, she explained in more detail about heats and ruts and how it was your body's response to finding one another.

When you finally stood to leave, exhausted and unable to think of another question, she refused to take Dave's money. When he tried to insist, she held up her hands and shook her head firmly.

"You have no idea how rare this is for someone like me. Meeting the two of you is an experience I will never forget."

She even let you take home the book you had still open on your lap, your minds racing as you tried to keep up with the whirlwind of information thrown at you.

When she walked you to the door, the sun dipping low in the sky already, she placed a hand on each one of your shoulders and looked at you both intently.

"Promise me you will not squander this gift," she said. "You have no idea how unusual it is for mates to find one another again. The odds are astronomical and yet here you are, reunited by a twist of fate."

You had no idea what to say. You looked up at Dave sheepishly and he smiled warmly at you before saying, "We promise."

Once back in his car, silence surrounding you even though your minds were buzzing with activity, he reached for your hand.

"Do you believe her?" he asked. You bit the inside of your cheek and stared straight ahead down her long driveway before slowly nodding and turning to face him.

"I think I do."

A big grin stretched across his face and he brought the back of your hand up to his lips. "I think I do, too."

You giggled and ran your fingers through your hair, a rush of adrenaline burning through your veins.

"Now what?" you asked him, letting him drop your hand so he could shift his car into drive.

But before he pressed on the gas, he gave you one final look and said, "I don't know, but whatever it is, we'll do it together."

Right?! I don’t understand it either! 🤣

Lies, Excuses and Bullshit

Pairing: Exboyfriend!Dave York x f!Reader

Summary: A man with a double life willing to do anything to keep his obsession around, and a woman who doesn't know what she's gotten herself into.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, go on get! Breaking up, creepy!Dave, infidelity, stalker behavior from Dave, oral(f receiving), spanking, unprotected PIV(make smarter choices), manipulation, and if there is anything I missed please let me know!

A/N: Phew, not sure what happened here. This is a first, I don't usually write darker stuff but something about Dave made it just fly out of my finger tips. This was written for @punkshort's AU August Challenge! Thank you Shortie for letting me be part of the challenge 😊 I need to shout out @beefrobeefcal @strang3lov3 @ozarkthedog and @mothandpidgeon thank you all for the encouragement and lending your eyeballs for this story! ❤️

@jay-zzle, my love, my bestie. This one is for you! 🥰❤️🥰❤️

Masterlist||AO3

divider by @saradika-graphics

You thought things were fine. Dave is the perfect gentleman. It is a complete shock to see this text from your friend. It was a picture of Dave with another woman and two little girls at a soccer game. Maybe it’s his niece's soccer game and he’s just there being a good uncle? Until the next text comes in.

Isn’t that your boyfriend?

Another picture is attached featuring Dave, his arm around the woman. Then another and another and another. More evidence to suggest he is obviously in a relationship with the woman and you are the one left in the dark on this whole situation.

You stopped responding to your friend a while ago, staring at the pictures they sent. Back and forth, memorizing every detail. The way he’s looking at her. The way his arm is around her. The way he’s touching her. The way he kissed her -  that was the one that sealed your fate of knowing you had in fact not been seeing a recently divorced man but a married one. Your phone buzzes with another text notification.

D. York: Hey baby, still picking you up at 9 right?

You glare at your phone unsure of what the next step is. Obviously he is cheating on his wife unbeknownst to you. How does somebody even handle something like this? You really liked Dave, you saw a future with him. Your relationship has been going on for months now.

After neglecting to respond your phone buzzes again with another text from the man himself.

D. York: Been thinking about you 

You roll your eyes and text him back.

You: Not tonight. Don’t feel good.

D. York: Aw you poor thing. Do you need anything?

You didn’t even have the energy to respond with this new found information rattling around your brain, pressing the button to make your phone sleep and making your way to your bedroom. You plugged your phone in and crawled into bed, ignoring the constant buzz against your nightstand as you tried to drift off. The sun was still out but you couldn’t be awake right now. You needed to shut your brain off and this was the only way you knew how.

There was a pounding on your door when you woke with a startle. The moon casting shadows through the curtains into your room. You checked your phone, seeing the multiple notifications, some from your friends and some from Dave. He’d also tried calling several different times.

D. York: Are you okay?

Did you talk to him yet?

D. York: Do you want some company?

Want me to kick his ass?

D. York: How are you feeling?

What do you plan to say?

D. York: Baby, please answer me. Getting a little worried here.

The pounding on your door continued as you checked your phone. The doorbell camera he insisted on getting for you and installed showed Dave at your doorstep holding a plastic bag, grumbling, you got out of bed and walked towards the door.

“I’m coming. Give it a rest,” you shout, hoping Dave can hear you over his loud knocks.

Sliding the chain lock you open the door.

“Baby,” Dave sighs with relief, “What have you been doing? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours now!”

“I told you, I don’t feel good,” you shrug, “I’ve been sleeping.”

“I’m sorry to wake you, I started to get worried,” Dave says, looking around your living room, “I got you some stuff to hopefully help with whatever bug you’ve seemed to catch.”

You watch as he carefully steps into your space, placing the bag on the coffee table in front of your couch.

“Dave,” you sigh, “I know.”

“Know what?” Dave asks, hands on his hips and shaking his head with a smirk.

“I know you’re still married.”

You see his adam's apple bob as he swallows, flopping back onto the couch, and clasping his hands together. He stays silent for a moment, contemplating what to say next.

“How’d you find out?”

Your eyes widen, not expecting him to fold so easily. 

“A friend sent me some photos from today at the soccer field,” you murmur, trying to keep the wavering in your voice to a minimum.

“I see,” Dave says with a nod.

“You also have kids?”

Dave nods again, facing you this time.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Dave scoffs, “Sleep with you?”

“I wouldn’t just call what we’ve been doing as ‘sleeping together,’ Dave,” you say, using your fingers as air quotes when the words sleeping together leave your mouth.

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Dave chuckles, “I get bored from time to time and like to play with someone new.”

“Your wife know that?” you ask, glaring at him. This man who you thought you knew is showing an entirely different side of himself, and you don’t like it.

“She doesn’t need to know because it’s not a big deal.” Dave sighs exasperated.

“I think it’s best if you left.”

“Alright,” Dave says standing, “If that’s what you want.”

“Yep,” you say with a sharp nod.

“Listen,” Dave says, reaching a hand towards your arm, and you slid your arm back letting him know not to touch you, and he put his hand down beside him, “Okay, well, it’s really not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be. I like you, I like what we’ve been–”

“Dave, you’re cheating on your wife,” you grit through your teeth interrupting the spiel he was going on, and swung the door open for him, “Leave.”

—

“Fucking take it.” Dave growls in your ear, thrusting his hips harshly into you, “Just like that baby.”

Your moans fill his ears, he can tell you’re close. The way your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tighter. He can practically taste your climax in the air around him, gripping your hips tighter and angling them so he can get deeper.

“Dave,” you sob, after a particularly harsh thrust. Fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, back arching as you continue to cry out his name.

Dave. Dave. Dave.

“David!”

Dave jumps to the sound of Carol’s voice. Looking around to see he’s in his own bed in his home, not yours.

“Honey, your alarm has been going off for 10 minutes now.”

He lets out a sigh facing his reality, adjusting the hardness in his pajama bottoms. It was just a dream. It’s been months since he’s seen you. You’ve seemed to make your way into his brain at all times of the day, conscious or not.

“I’m gonna get the girls ready but you don’t need to be late for work again,” Carol says, giving him a smile and wink. After last night, he’s not sure how much longer he can do this. He’s been trying to have sex with Carol more. Sure, she’s his wife but she doesn’t scratch the same itch you did.

He’s tried. He’s tried to be a good husband, he’s tried to be a good dad and he’s exhausted. Dave feels himself becoming more of a shell since you told him to leave.

You’ve made it abundantly clear you want nothing to do with him. He tried to reach out to you, only to have his number blocked. You disabled your doorbell camera after he left that night. You must have known he’d try and look at it on his phone, you knew he had the information for your account. Why wouldn’t he try to look?

What you don’t know is that once Carol takes the girls to school, he gets the second phone hidden in the false bottom of a shoe box in his closet that is an exact copy of your own. He can see who you’re texting, where you’re at, how things at work are going, who you’re hanging out with. It’s become an obsession to check it daily.

—

As he steps out of the shower, Carol shouts up the stairs that she’s leaving with the girls, and the front door closes shortly after. Time to start his day.

Getting dressed in his running gear and snatching his headphones from the dresser. He makes his way to the closet. Finding the shoe box with your duplicated phone.

Texts from your friends, a text from your boss and a missed call from your mom. What catches his eye the most is the notification from some jackass on Tinder. James. Scanning James’ profile he’s definitely not your type: blonde hair, green eyes, gelled back hair, and a full beard.

James, 29

Looking for a girl who just wants to have some fun, if it leads to more that’s cool too. I like hiking, graduated from Harvard, hanging with my bros, anything else hmu

Dave shakes his head as he reads the messages shared between the two of you. He scans reading hellos, good nights, sharing random facts about each other, until he stumbles upon the most recent messages

James: Hello gorgeous 😉

Hello 😊

James: So I’ve been thinking would you wanna meet up? Go get a drink or something?

Sure! 7 good?

James: Awesome! Yeah. Do you know where Sal’s is?

I do! It’s not far from my job

James: Perfect! I’ll see ya then beautiful

No. No way in hell is this James guy meeting up with you. Dave calls the office letting them know he’s taking a personal day, he has some business to take care of.

—

Sal’s is exactly what you expected it to be. Dark, dingey, and small. Not too crowded thankfully, it’s definitely got character though. The random decor on the wall is confusing. You can’t tell if this is supposed to be a sports or a punk bar with the random band posters on the wall along with sports jerseys next to them.

Making your way to the bar you sit down on a stool, flagging down the bartender.

“What’s your poison for the night?” He asks, wiping his hands on the towel he was carrying.

“Jack and Coke,” you say, slipping your hand into your bag to get your wallet out. He makes quick work of mixing the drink and placing it in front of you, handing over your card while you hear the jingle of the door.

“Starting a tab?” The bartender asks, swiping your card.

“No, thank you,” you smile as he hands your card back to you, putting it back in your wallet.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see someone standing a couple stools away. Looking down at your drink, moving the straw around before taking a drink. You take a peek at your watch to see it’s 10 minutes before you’re supposed to meet James. 

Maybe this was a bad idea, you haven’t had to do this in months. It was easier when Dave just kind of fell into your life.

“Whiskey on the rocks.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up when you heard the familiar timber of his voice, head snapping to look at him. Dave. His smirk as he waits on his drink says it all, he knew you would be here. Was he James?

“Are you fucking serious?” You hiss through your teeth.

Dave thanks the bartender, moving closer to you.

“I come in peace,” Dave says, sitting in the stool one away from you, “All I want to do is talk.”

“Are you James?” You ask through clenched teeth, glaring at him.

“Oh baby,” Dave tuts, “I’m not James, he’s very real.”

You continue to glare at him. Unable to force your brain to work with your limbs on moving, leaving, throwing your drink on him. Anything other than sitting here being in his presence.

“He wasn’t hard to convince to leave you alone though,” Dave looks at you with a smirk, one eyebrow raised and begins to chuckle, “One mention of snapping any finger that touches you sent him running.”

You try to swallow but your throat feels like a desert, gripping the tumbler in front of you and taking a swig. Did he… did he do something to James? Surely not, Dave wouldn’t even kill the spider that appeared in your apartment one day, scooped it up and took it outside. How could he cause harm to anything?

“Dave did you…” pausing pondering how to even ask the question.

“Did I hurt him?” Dave asks, scooting to the stool next to you and leaning in closer, invading your space and you nod your head, “No, just made it known what’s mine.”

You let out a sharp gasp at his words, arousal seeping into the gusset of your underwear, thighs clenching together at his closeness, feeling goosebumps erupt across your skin. This shouldn’t be happening but your body thinks otherwise.

“I’ve missed you baby,” Dave hums into your ear, “Don’t like how we ended things.”

The way he says it has the ice around your heart melting. You hate him but can’t help the way your heart betrays your brain at his words. Dave lets out a small growl, gripping your bare thigh beneath the bar top possessively.

“I’m staying in a hotel room tonight,” he says, the grip on your thigh becoming less and smoothing his hand against your inner thigh. Gliding his hand up, up, up. Pinky finger playing with the edge of your underwear under your skirt.

You grab his hand and pull it away from your core, bringing it to rest on your lap. Lacing your fingers with his, while his thumb rubs along your palm. You sigh, contemplating what to do. Go with him or send him packing like last time. The devil on your shoulder telling you to go with him, it’s just stress relief, it won’t- it can’t mean anything, he knows your body better than anyone else. The angel on the other side just repeating the same words, he’s still married.

In the words of your mother, if he doesn’t cheat with you then he’ll just find someone else. Might as well have fun.

“I’ve missed you too,” you confess with a soft whimper in his ear. Finally seeing him again after months of nothing has your practical sense crumbling. 

“Let’s go then,” Dave smirks, standing pulling your hand slightly to stand with him and leave.

—

Dave drove like a bat out of hell to the hotel, dragged you to the elevator and his room as if this was his last chance to have you. Clothes flying off the moment you crossed the threshold of the room.

“Dave,” you moan, his lips ghosting down your neck to your collarbone. His hands grip your ass, pulling you flush against his front, feeling his erection against your stomach.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” he groans, his mouth sucking the flesh of your breast, capturing your nipple in his mouth and giving it a nip. A whine escapes past your lips at the sudden pressure of his teeth, moving your body with him until you feel the back of your knees hit the bed.

Dave releases your nipple, pushing himself against you to lay back on the bed, making room for himself between your thighs. His dark eyes swimming with lust study your face. His hand comes to rest on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

“Why’d you let me leave like that?” His voice barely a whisper, lying his forehead against your own.

“You’re married,” you wince hearing the words leave your throat. You shouldn’t be doing this.

“I can change that,” he smirks with a chuckle, kissing the corner of your mouth, “I’d leave if it meant you’d stay,” kissing your jaw, “I’d spend every single day of my life making you happy,” he coos, trailing his lips down to your neck, laving his tongue against your pulse point.

“Dave,” you plead, hoping to stop his words. You don’t want to hear this, it’s all lies to get you to stay. The ache between your thighs begging for more.

“Mean it baby,” Dave says with a hum, mouth traveling down the expanse of your body, “Only want you,” he breathes when his face inches away from your sex, “Looks like you want me too,” he teases.

You feel the warmth spreading through your body as he sighs using his thumbs to spread your lips apart, staring at your glistening slit.

“Oh yeah, she’s definitely missed me,” he hums, flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Dave,” you gasp, gripping the sheets between your fingers. He works his tongue along your bundle of nerves swirling and sucking.

“God I’ve missed this pussy,” Dave growls, gripping your hips tightly before fucking you with his tongue.

“Fuck,” you moan, back arching off the bed. The fire in your abdomen grows more intense. You reach for one of his hands, linking your fingers with his. His other hand moving, fingers prodding at your entrance.

“Please,” you beg, “Dave, pl- please. More, I- I need m-“, you cry out when his fingers plunge into your cunt. Swiftly curling them inside you as he moves the pads of his fingers back and forth putting delicious pressure against your g-spot.

“That’s it baby,” Dave groans, nipping your inner thigh, “Let me have it.”

Your toes curl feeling the coil in your lower belly tightening, leaning your head up to watch him. He looks as wrecked as you feel as he rapidly flits his tongue against your clit. His brows furrowed in concentration as he worked his mouth and fingers in sync for you to reach your climax, his lips shiny from your arousal. He opens his eyes to see your mouth hung open in a silent scream, brows pinched together as you pant looking into his eyes.

“Dave,” you pant, “Baby, I’m gonna come.”

Your walls clamp down on his fingers as you stare into his dark orbs. White hot heat spreads throughout your body, letting out a soft shriek.

“Flip over,” Dave instructs, moving your pliable limbs so you’re on your stomach. You cry out as he pushes his cock into you sharply.

“Fuck.”

“Shhh,” Dave tuts, “It’s okay baby, you can take it.”

You whine, it feels like he’s splitting you in two, walls gripping his length. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust before he’s roughly snapping his hips into you.

“Make you mine again,” Dave grunts, “No one else deserves you.”

The pain quickly turns into pleasure as he works his cock in and out. The sound of your squelching pussy filling your ears as strangled noises crawl up your throat.

“God damn baby,” Dave hisses, tilting your hips up as he grinds his hips into you, hitting that spot deep inside only he’s been able to reach.

“Missed this so,” he grunts, slapping your ass, “Fucking,” another slap against your skin, “Much,” another harsh slap before soothing the marks he’s left with his palm.

“Dave,” you let out a choked sob, feeling the pleasure building, thrusting your hips back into him, “Faster.”

“Dirty girl,” Dave hums, gripping your hips again, pounding into your pussy at a frantic pace, “You gonna- oh fuck- come again?”

You can only nod your head weakly, feeling the sizzling pressure in your abdomen start to boil over. Your walls spasming and contracting around his cock. The muscles in your legs tensing before screaming out.

“Oh fuck,” Dave moans, “That’s it baby. Come on my cock. Just like that.”

Dave leans over caging you between his arms, thrusting into your wet heat a half a dozen times before his hips start to lose rhythm and going still, your name tumbling from his lips, letting your walls milk his cock feeling the warmth of his seed paint your walls.

“I really have missed you,” Dave admits slumping against you with a sigh, “So fucking much.”

He kisses your shoulder before pulling out with a hiss. You groan feeling the emptiness before he helps you up, guiding you to the bathroom.

You shower together, taking time to wash each other with delicate touches, and sharing intimate kisses before crawling back into bed with his arms wrapped around you.

You wake sometime in the middle of the night. Dave’s snoring beside you, finding your phone amongst your belongings scattered around the room, you make your way to the bathroom. Looking at Dave sleeping so peacefully from the doorway of the bathroom you can’t help feeling torn. You loved him, still do if you’re being honest with yourself, but this isn’t what you two should be doing.

You find an uber available and schedule to be picked up. Quietly making your way out of the bathroom and grabbing your things when you hear two identical dings. One from your hand and one from Dave’s bag. Slipping your clothes back on you slowly wander over to his things. Rummaging around until you find a phone, similar to yours. Pushing the button on the side you see a notification for an Uber 5 minutes away, looking at your own phone to see it displaying the same.

“What the fuck?” You whisper to yourself, head snapping to look at Dave hoping you didn’t wake him. You look around to find a pen and piece of paper.

—

Dave wakes the next morning with a smile, remembering what happened last night. Sliding his hand to where you should be, feeling the cool sheets under his palm, peeking an eye open to see the empty spot next to him.

He listens closely to his surroundings, hoping to hear the shower but is met only with silence. Frowning as he sits up, scrubbing his hands against his face trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Looking around the room for any sign of you, taking note of your things being gone.

He sees a folded piece of paper lying on top of something on the dresser. Dave gets up to inspect what it is. His name is on the paper, sitting on top of two phones. Immediately recognizing one as yours and the other the duplicate he had made. His eyes scan the note you left, unable to believe what he was reading.

You’ll never be anything but a lying, cheating, manipulative douchebag. Figure your shit out. Don’t ever reach out to me again.

Dave’s hand curls into a fist as he reads the note over and over again. You left. You really left and this time it’s going to be even harder to find you.

He smirks, shaking his head as he collapses on the edge of the bed. You must not realize how much he loves a challenge.

This was sooooo good!!!!! 😍😍😍😍

decisions

dave york x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t,” he whispers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking brat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The tension, the way they’re falling for each other! The ending!!!! I gasped so loudly!!

nothing lasts forever

chapter 4 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You're both worried about the prospect of you leaving soon. Also, just a lot of filth lol

word count: 5.3k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, somewhat unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks big time), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave grabs, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, oral (f & m receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, biting, semi-public sex, orgasm denial, use of restraints, pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my angel @joelscurls, throwing around these ideas with you is so fun, i love you <3

follow @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

David is becoming a problem. 

When you’re not with him, you’re texting him, having evolved from mostly suggestive messages and pictures to sharing almost every thought that pops into your heads with each other. He knows your friends’ names, your favorite subjects. You watched his favorite movie, sending him your every reaction in real time. 

When you’re not texting him, you’re thinking about him. About his broad hands, about how good he feels inside of you, about the filth he spits into your ear, but that’s not all of it. More often than not, you’re daydreaming about how good his arms feel wrapped around you, engulfing you in his scent, about the feeling of his chest when you rest your head there. About the way he sees you, hears you, makes you laugh. Makes you feel important. 

You’ve pushed the fact that you’re gonna leave again soon into a far away corner of your mind, but as the end of your break is steadily growing nearer, it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore. 

You haven’t talked about what you are to each other, but you’re not delusional enough to think that he’s gonna wait for you. Gonna visit you once every few months and exchange late night messages in the meantime, like you have some kind of future together, like he’s your boyfriend.

He already has a life, has done all the things that you have yet to experience, is miles ahead with no way for you to catch up. You know all this. Which is why it was supposed to be just one time. Until it turned into two times and now into more times than you can count and into something that has grown strings, attaching you to each other. 

No one’s ever had you before, not like this. 

You’re lost in daydreams, sometimes about the things that you’ve done together, but mostly about the things that you wish you could do. Going out together, without worrying about being seen. Cuddling up on his couch for movie nights, cooking in his kitchen, sleeping in his bed. Things that he doesn’t let you do. Because, unlike you, he hasn’t lost sight of what this is. 

You’re so deep in your thoughts, filling the days when you don’t see David with nothing but fantasies about him, that even your father notices. The resulting lecture about focussing on your studies, working on job applications, and to under no circumstances become lazy over the break, washes over you. You nod obediently, promise to get right back to it, not bothering with excuses that you know he won’t listen to. Then you retreat back into your daydreams. 

Dave has fallen into the pit much deeper than he had planned to, deeper than he had thought possible, honestly. He’s in his forties, not some lovesick schoolboy, but that’s exactly what he feels like. 

Once he’s started seeing you regularly, talking to you, thinking about you, he finds himself unable to stop. He likes talking to you, likes the way you actually listen to him, the way you seem to care about every single thing that he has to say. You’re funny, and smart, and quite frankly the only person that he really likes being around these days. Seeing your eyes light up when you tell him about your interests, laughing about the way you almost constantly outsmart him, knowing the person that you can be when you feel safe enough for it, with him, has his heart clenching in his chest. 

He still can’t shake the knowledge that what he’s doing is wrong, the feeling that he’s taking advantage of you. You’re the vulnerable one and he’s the adult and he should be the one who makes reasonable decisions. For both your sake’s. It’s just– you make him happy.

He can’t quit, not when you look at him with those wide eyes, your lashes fluttering, so often flustered about the things he says to you, the things he makes you do. Not when you remain so open and trusting of him, so willing to please. It’s a heady feeling and he can’t seem to let go of it. 

You have plans this Friday, something about drinks and dancing with your friends, and you roll your eyes at him telling you to be safe, but there’s something else too, a sadness below the surface that gives him pause. He briefly wonders if your father doesn’t make you promise the same thing every time you go out. Probably not, he bitterly thinks to himself. 

He doesn’t necessarily dislike Jim, not really. Jim hasn’t been a bad friend to him, not in the way that Dave is with what he’s doing. He just can’t witness the way you’re being treated and like him, either.

“Do you want me to pick you up? You can stay over if you want.” 

He had been battling himself on this one, but he doesn’t think he can go through a repeat of the last time you were out late and couldn’t go home. He watches your eyes grow almost comically wide on his phone screen. 

“Y–you would do that?” 

He knows you’re thinking back on the last time too, on how he turned you down and he hates how small your voice sounds once again. 

“Of course, sweetheart. Just call me, okay?” 

You nod eagerly, thanking him profusely, a smile slowly growing on your face in unison with the warmth in his chest. 

A little after 2 AM you do call him, all giggly and sweet and just fucking adorable. 

His heart swells when he sees you stepping out of the club, hugging your friends goodbye and exuberantly waving in the direction of his car before you make your way over. Your heels are clicking against the pavement and he can’t keep his eyes off your approaching figure. Off the way your dress is hugging your body so tightly, off the expanse of your bare legs, and least of all off your beaming smile that only grows when you can make out his face behind the car window. 

“Hi David,” you giggle, plopping into the seat and pulling him into a kiss almost instantly. You’re rarely bold like this, letting him take the initiative, but he likes this, likes how uninhibitedly you want him right now. Your mouth tastes sweet when your tongue flicks against his, a combination of fruity cocktails and the remnants of your lipgloss. 

When you finally part, you’re panting, your lips are already swollen and your pupils blown wide. His cock twitches with interest at the sight. 

“Let’s get you home,” he suggests, not missing the way your lips part wider at the breathless husk of his voice. You nod wordlessly, eyes still glued to his face. 

As he starts driving, you’re fidgeting in your seat, stealing glances at him, biting your lip. 

“What is it, baby?” 

You avert your eyes, teeth digging deeper into the soft cushion of your lips. Still so shy for him. He raises an eyebrow, throwing you a hard glance. 

“Tell me.”

The short display of dominance is enough to force a whimper up your throat. You gingerly reach out towards him, running your hand over the curve of his belly before you cup his length through his sweatpants. He sucks in a breath, rapidly hardening under your touch. 

“I want to– I want to suck your cock. Please.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, all soft and needy.

Chuckling, he grinds his hips up into your touch.

“Of course you do. Such a desperate little whore for me, aren’t you?”

He does his best to appear unimpressed, to play up that persona that he knows gets you both off so much. Still, his cock is already rock hard, leaking at your eager nod in response to his words, at how much you want him. You look so gorgeous right now, your sparkly skirt slowly inching up your thighs, and there’s no doubt in his mind that you could have had anyone in that club. And yet, here you are, begging to suck him off. 

He relaxes deeper into his seat, reaches out to fist one hand in your hair and tug you closer.

“Well, if you need it that badly. Fucking greedy.” 

You whimper again, louder this time. Your body is pliant under his touch, following the direction of his hand pushing your head down to the pronounced bulge in his lap. With your fingers sneaking under the waistband, you throw him a cautious glance. 

“Can I–?”

The proud smile he gives you in response has you glowing.

“Go ahead. Good girl for asking.”

He raises his hips slightly to help you slide his sweats down enough to let his cock spring free. You audibly moan at the sight, and it drives him wild, to elicit this reaction from you. 

Your mouth sinks down on him eagerly, enveloping him in wet heat, and it takes everything in him to keep his eyes and at least part of his focus on the road. He feels the way you’re squirming, can picture the way your thighs must be rubbing against each other right now. 

You swirl your tongue around his head before you start sucking, and he hisses through his teeth, his hold on your hair tightening further. 

“Fuck,” he groans, head falling back against the headrest. “You’re so fucking good, baby.” 

You whine in response, sinking your head down further, until he’s nudging at your throat. 

When Dave pulls up to his building, he’s already embarrassingly close to coming. Reduced to nothing but burning want by your mouth within mere minutes. 

You’re insatiable as he’s leading you up the stairs to his apartment, hands frantically grabbing at him. He tuts at you, but there’s no bite behind it. 

Once the door falls shut behind you, you’re on him, your lips seeking his out with heated intensity. You only pull back when he tugs your hair sharply, forcing you to look at him. You look wrecked, your lips still swollen and tears sticking to your lashes, pure desire written all over your face. It gives him an idea. 

Grabbing your shoulders, he turns you around abruptly. You whine in protest at losing the proximity to his mouth, but still obey willingly, letting him direct your body until he has you in front of the full length mirror in his hallway. 

You’re a vision, watching with wide eyes as he looms behind you, his fingers trailing over your scantily clad body. Your ass presses against his front, grinding against the hardness of his cock when he circles your nipples over the fabric. A high pitched whine escapes you and your eyes slip closed, your head falling back to rest against his shoulder. 

He clicks his tongue, his hand finding the back of your head and forcing it up again. Your eyes flutter back open and your brow furrows in mild confusion. 

“Watch,” he purrs into your ear. “Watch how beautiful you are, all desperate for me.”

You gulp, but your gaze obediently meets his in the mirror. He smirks, the corners of his mouth curling upwards as he wraps one hand around your throat. Only applying a hint of pressure, but you melt into him, your eyes glued to your reflection.

“Look at you,” he coos, his grip tightening. He nips at your earlobe, relishes in your responding shudder. “Want you to see how beautiful you are.” 

You nod weakly, and he knows how far away you already are, how hazy with pleasure you get when he has you like this. Still holding onto your throat, his other hand splays over your upper thigh, causing the hem of your dress to inch up higher and higher as his fingers dig into the supple flesh. He lets his hand climb, expecting to find your panties soaked with your arousal, but instead he’s met with nothing but bare skin, coated with your slick. He can’t stop the growl building up in his chest and you grind against him harder.  

“Fuck, have you been like this all evening? Whoring yourself out, huh?” 

It doesn’t bother him, at all. The idea of you surrounded by people, with nothing underneath that little skirt, and still patiently waiting for him, has his blood running hotter. He feels you swallow under his palm, feels the movement of your throat as you try to form words, the small shake of your head. 

“T–took them off. After I called you.” You bite your lip, your pleading stare searching his reflection. “I wanted to be ready for you.” 

Dave’s head falls forward at that, his groan muffled against the soft skin where your neck meets your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he sighs, lips moving against your body. “You’re such a good girl.”

His fingers toy with you, featherlight touches caressing your cunt, giving you only the tiniest bit of friction. When he brushes over your clit, you respond with a needy little sound, akin to a sob, that goes straight into his cock. Rutting his hips against yours, his touches get more intense, fingers nudging at your entrance. 

“Please,” you whine, your eyes falling shut once more as you get lost in his touches. 

“Nuh-uh,” Dave tuts, his fingers pausing their ministrations. Landing a slap on your clit instead, one that has you jolting in his arms. Would have probably made you scream too, if he wasn’t holding your throat so tightly. “Thought I told you to watch. If you can’t listen, I’ll stop.” 

You sob again, desperation lacing the sound, but you force your eyes back towards the mirror. He sinks two fingers into you while his thumb swirls over your clit. Your lips part in a loud moan, your frame trembling against him. 

“Look at how good you are for me. Watch yourself falling apart for me,” he grits into your ear, tightening the hold on your throat, forcing you to the edge with his touches. 

Your breath catches, your pupils dilate, before you both watch you shatter around his fingers. Your knees buckle, body collapsing into him. He holds you tightly, helping you ride out your high, transfixed by the image of you, falling apart for him so beautifully.

When you come down, he turns you around in his arms, lips seeking each other out, a mess of tongues and teeth. Devouring each other. He wants you like this, this close, this open. His. Always his. 

“Come here,” he murmurs against your lips, tugs you into his side and holds you close as he finally, finally opens his bedroom door for you. 

He should have done this sooner, he thinks to himself, as you’re on top of him, your gorgeous tits bouncing with every movement. Should have had you in every possible position, should have let your presence fill every corner of his place, should have committed it all to memory. 

He knows that the image of your head on his pillow, drifting off into sleep with a content smile on your face, will be burned into his mind forever, even after you’re long gone. He wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Shit!” 

Dave stirs awake to your voice, frantic and nervous now, so different from the sounds he pulled from you mere hours ago. You’re sitting beside him, hunched over your phone.

“What’s going on?” he asks, inching closer to you, one hand rubbing over your back in an effort to soothe you. 

You wordlessly turn your phone screen towards him. It takes him a few moments of squinting before he’s able to make out that you’re showing him your message thread with your father. Several missed calls, several messages demanding to know why you’re not home. 

“But–” He furrows his brow, his brain only slowly kicking into gear. “Did he not know you were going out?”

“He did,” you murmur, eyes still glued to the device in your hand. “I’m just gonna–”

You tap the screen and hold the phone to your ear, anxiety still painting your face. Dave sits up beside you, unsure of what to do. You’re both feeling it, he thinks, the sudden realization of how fragile this thing is that you have. How quickly it could go up in flames around you. 

He doesn’t agree with Jim on a lot of things, but he can’t stop his mind from thinking about his own girls, about how quickly they’re growing up. About how, in a few years’ time, the roles could be reversed. How murderous he’d be if he ever found himself in a similar situation.

“Where the fuck are you?” your father’s voice barks through the speaker immediately when he picks up, interrupting Dave’s train of thought. 

You flinch at his tone, your shoulders hunching forward. 

“I went out with Jess and Kristen last night. I– I told you.”

He huffs, a dismissive sound. 

“That’s not what I asked, is it?”

Biting your lip, you shoot Dave a wide-eyed glance. He reaches forward, hand coming to rest on your knee, desperate to comfort you in some way. 

“You– last time you said you didn’t want me to come home drunk, so I figured I’d just stay over–”

Your father interrupts you with a loud sigh, like you’re making him carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Dave silently watches you deflate further.

“You realize that we wouldn’t need to have this conversation if you didn’t get plastered every weekend, right?”

“I’m not–”

“I don’t know why I’m spending all this money on your education when you act like you can just waste it. That’s not how I raised you.”

“I’m on–” Defiance sparks in your eyes for a split second before you exhale sharply, your head bowing down. “I know. I’m sorry dad, I’ll be home soon, I promise.”

Without bothering with a goodbye, your father hangs up. You stare at your phone for a second, sighing deeply. 

When your eyes find Dave’s again, they are flooded with shame. 

“Sorry you had to hear that,” you whisper. You’re concealing it well, but he’s seen and heard enough of you by now to recognize the slight wobble in your voice. “He’s right, I shouldn’t have… I’ll just get going.”

You sit up straighter, scrabbling to get out of his bed, your knee slipping away from his touch. 

“Sweetheart–” 

David’s voice is raspy, still thick with the remnants of sleep. He reaches for you, one arm wrapping around you and pulling you into his chest. You feel so safe, so comforted in his embrace, sinking deeper into it immediately. He kisses the crown of your head and it takes everything in you to not start crying. 

You don’t want him to see you like this, to experience first-hand how incapable you are of standing up for yourself. None of this can possibly be what he desires from a relationship, from a woman. 

“You did nothing wrong,” he mutters into your hair. 

You don’t know if you agree. You’re being selfish. Too reckless for your own good, too quick to believe that nothing would go wrong, that there’s no way your father could find out what you’re doing. And you’re pulling David down with you. 

You believe that he likes you, that he enjoys being with you. You have to believe that. But in moments like this, you wonder if a part of why he keeps meeting you is that he pities you. 

Shrugging him off, even as your heart is screaming at you to sink deeper into his touch, you get up and start getting dressed.

“I can drive you home,” he offers softly, his eyes following your every movement. 

When you look up at him, you could swear that you see something like hurt on his features. You’re probably mistaken though. It’s much more likely that he’s just annoyed with the sudden complications that being with you brings.

“No,” you murmur, your voice thankfully more steady than before. “That would be… suspicious, I guess. I’ll just call an Uber.” 

He hugs you tightly before you leave, slotting his lips over yours. They always sting, the small goodbyes. Especially knowing that they’re gonna evolve into one big goodbye soon.

At home, an extended version of the lecture your father already gave you over the phone awaits you. You let it wash over you, nod at the right times, apologize over and over, promise to do better. No point in arguing.

Only a few more weeks.

Before David, that prospect would have filled you with joy. Now, it’s not that simple anymore.

Once Dave’s had you in his bed, he’s addicted to it just like every other facette of you. You’re reluctant to sleep over again, always slipping from his arms eventually, and while he understands, he hates it. 

Still, he has you in it as often as he can. The golden hue of the late afternoon sun is falling through the open blinds, bathing the room in warm light, painting your skin with it. Another image to add to his collection of memories. Another image that he hopes will never fade.

You’re writhing underneath him, spread out over his sheets, your fingers digging into the fabric in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. He loves when you get like this. All rational thoughts blown from your mind, your focus solely on him. On his touches, his commands, his wishes. 

No one else makes you feel like this, no one else has ever shown you pleasure like this. Only him.

He wants to make you happy, but he doesn’t know if you’d let him. He also wants to drag you down with him. That, he suspects, you would let him do.

“Please, David,” you whimper, tears already brimming in your eyes. He’d been teasing you for what felt like an eternity. Positioned you the way he wanted, your hands over your head and your legs spread wide to fit him between your thighs, and told you to not move.

He has kissed his way from your lips down your neck, his teeth digging gently into the skin, then further down to where your breasts were heaving with your breathing. He’s sucked one nipple into his mouth and pinched the other between his fingers, making you keen and arch off the mattress, pushing your body closer into his touch. 

His responding chuckle and the way he shushed you, his lips still moving against your skin, drove you wild with desire. 

His mouth had continued traveling down your body, stopping between your legs where you could feel his breath ghosting against your feverish skin, his teeth nipping at you. It all felt so so good, but not enough, never enough, the need to feel him inside of you nearly overwhelming. 

But he hadn’t budged, alternating between gentle kisses and stinging bites, pulling whines and moans from your throat in an almost constant stream. 

Your hands had moved down on their own accord, fingers twisting into the strands of his hair, trying to pull his face up to yours. Trying to get him to finally, finally fuck you.

He growls at that and leans back onto his haunches, regarding you with burning eyes. His hands come up to his tie, the first piece of clothing that he takes off. He’s still fully dressed, impeccable as always, while you’re bare before him, no doubt already looking thoroughly ruined. It’s such an obvious display of power and it never fails to make your head dizzy with need.

He undoes the tie and leans towards you again, gathering your wrists in one of his large hands, his fingers easily wrapping around them. 

“Disobedient today, are we?” he smirks, clicking his tongue. “I taught you better than that.”

His condescending tone is enough to cause another wave of slick to flood your pussy and you whine, your eyes trained on his handsome face above you. 

“I’m s–sorry, it just– it feels so good.”

“I know it does, sweetheart,” he coos, gently placing a kiss on your pouting lips. “Still– looks like I need to teach you a lesson, hm?” 

Your wide eyes and your timid, obedient little nod have his cock straining against his pants. 

If he could, he’d keep you forever, just like this. In his bed, his to touch, his to hold, his to defile. His, his, his.

You let him pull your wrists higher up the bed, like a doll that he can move however he likes. The tie’s fabric is soft between his fingers. He holds it up to your face, sees the glimmer of excitement in your eyes.

“Kiss it,” he demands, pushing it closer to your mouth. 

You hesitate for just a second before you raise your head to obediently connect your lips with the piece of dark blue fabric. 

“Good girl.”

The corners of your lips raise at the praise, the warmth of your smile washing over him. He’s gonna make this so fucking good for you. You crane your neck, watching eagerly as he wraps the tie around your wrists and connects it to his headboard, securing the knots until your hands are sufficiently trapped over your head. 

“Now what did I tell you?”

You shudder at his tone, pouting up at him, a small crease between your brows. 

“Y–you told me not to move.” 

“I did,” he nods, casually flicking your nipples hard enough that he knows it’s gonna send pinpricks of pain through you. Just the way you like it. Your responding wail doesn’t disappoint, and neither does the way you’re writhing underneath him, trying to grind your dripping cunt against his thighs, but to no avail. 

“Please, I’m sorry, please David–” 

He shakes his head, presses another chaste kiss to your lips before he pulls back. 

“You need to learn to be patient. To do what you’re told.” 

You nod silently, biting your lip while you watch him moving down your body again, until his head is situated between your thighs again. 

“Now, don’t move.” 

He knows that you’re trying, trying so hard to be good when he starts kissing your inner thighs. Knows that you want to move, want to chase the pleasure that he’s kept just out of your reach for so long already. But you’re not, your body almost vibrating with the effort. Because he fucking told you to. Because that’s all it takes.

He licks into you, savoring your taste, savoring the sweet sounds that you reward him with. Alternating between tongueing through your folds and sucking your clit into his mouth, he watches you closely, keeping an eye on your every reaction, waiting to drive you right to that point. 

He knows when you’re close, feels you tensing up, hears the higher pitch of your moans. He keeps you right there, balancing you on that edge. Then he pulls away. Your whine is downright pitiful, a broken sound of desperation that feeds deep into his own arousal. 

“Patience,” he reminds you, stealing a glance up at your face. Tears are brimming from your eyes, but when you catch his gaze, your lips still curl into a smile. Reminding him that you love this game, just as much as he does. 

He builds you up until you’re at the brink of an orgasm two more times, only to let you down again and again. You’re openly sobbing, but keeping still, just like he asked. Patient.

When he finally sinks his cock into you, the sound of him moving through your wetness is downright obscene. It’s heavenly, how hot and slick you are around him, engulfing him tightly. He grits his teeth, forcing himself to go slow. To tease you just a little bit longer. 

Pure bliss overtakes you when David finally thrusts into you. He’s still moving torturously slow, giving you nothing more than shallow thrusts. It doesn’t matter, the stretch of him breaching you almost enough to get you to your climax. Almost.

Before he notices, more tuned into your body than you had thought possible. Before he stills completely, raises an eyebrow at you, almost challenging you to protest. You don’t, determined to prove yourself. 

“What do you say, sweetheart?” 

“Thank you for teaching me patience, David,” you whimper, pouting up at him. You must be a sight by now, your face streaked with tears and your expression most likely as fucked out as you feel.

“Exactly,” he growls. Then he really starts fucking you. 

Each thrust hits almost impossibly deep inside of you, making you see stars behind your eyelids. The coil of your orgasm is already wrapped around you, having been tightened again and again, ready to snap at any second. 

David swipes his thumb over your clit, applying just a hint of pleasure. It’s enough to catapult you straight into your climax.

It rolls over you like a storm, waves a pleasure crashing over you, feeling like they’ll never let you up again. You’re only just coming down, breathless moans falling from your mouth with each of his thrusts as he’s fucking you right through it, never letting up. 

“Give me another one,” he pants, wild eyes trained on your tear-stained face. “Right now. I know you can.” 

His fingers stay on your clit, rubbing over the bundle of nerves while his cock keeps hammering into you, forcing you right back to the edge. It’s like you’re falling apart at the seams, your body disintegrating, melting into the sheets. 

“Good girl. Good fucking girl,” David grunts above you, his jaw clenched, eyes burning into yours, the only thing tethering you to reality right now. 

He stills, his cock buried deep inside of you, shudders running through his body, before he collapses on top of you. He holds you close, one hand quickly working to undo the knots around your wrists, before he pulls you into him, placing kisses all over your face. 

“I’ve never–” he begins, but pauses, like he’s not sure how to phrase it. He doesn’t have to. You know. 

“Me neither,” you murmur, pressing your face into his neck. You want to breathe him in, want that warmth, that feeling of being safe with him to envelop you. 

It has gotten darker, barely any light falling into the room from outside anymore. Eventually, you stretch out your body on top of the bed, relishing in the sweet burn of soreness that David has left in you. 

“How would you feel about pizza?” he asks from beside you, looking down at you with a fond smile. It’s so easy, to imagine this as your everyday life. 

“I’d feel amazing,” you yawn, finally untangling your limbs from the sheets. 

He places the order while you traipse around, putting your underwear back on and using the bathroom, before you crawl back into bed beside him, curling yourself around his still naked body. He wraps an arm around you, starts drawing shapes on your back with his fingers.

A knock raps against wood, much quicker than you both expected. 

“I’ll get it,” you say, since you’re at least wearing underwear already. You’re moving towards David’s front door, pulling on his discarded work shirt to appear at least somewhat decent and looking for his wallet. 

“Hey David, where’s your–” you shout in the direction of the bedroom, opening the door in expectation of being met with the sight of some grumpy delivery guy. The words die on your tongue. 

Instead, you stare straight into your father’s stony expression. 

.........hehe

gold rush

pairing: modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader x Dave York

word count: ~5.1k

summary: “You like him, princess?” Oberyn asks, a grin obvious in his tone. 

You nod silently, your eyes still trained on the man behind the boat’s steering wheel.

“So do I.” 

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, reader has hair that can be tugged, no use of y/n, kinda dom!Oberyn&Dave but they're just bossy really, unprotected p in v (which you shouldn't do with someone you just met), oral m&f receiving, threesome, a bit of m/m action but reader is the main character here, dirty talk, fingering, anal play (m receiving), praise kink, these three are freaky and i'm sure that i forgot something, if so please let me know <3

takes place in my modern!Oberyn universe but can be read as a standalone!

a/n: my plan was to write this for @secretelephanttattoo's secret springs event, which i'm criminally late to (i'm sorry, el!), but that is where the idea for dolphin tour dave came from. i didn't expect to go this feral with it lol

big hugs and thank you to @jolapeno for letting me cry about the complications of writing threesomes and figuring out the plot (read: positions) with me and @sizzlingcloudmentality for listening to me complain about this nonstop and gushing over the million snippets i sent and taking me seriously when i came to her with “i have an important question about giving head”

i'm very grateful that so many people seemed excited about this idea, i hope that it's everything you wished for and that you have a good time reading it!

dividers by @firefly-graphics <3

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

Waves are lapping against the boat’s hull, the ocean reflecting the soft orange and golden hues of the sun setting over the horizon. 

You’re leaning against the railing, relishing in the warmth that has sunk into your skin from the day on the water. A beaming smile seems to have permanently settled on your features after today’s trip, a cruise around the shore that resulted in fulfilling one of your lifelong dreams — getting to see dolphins in the open water, watching them race through the waves right beside you, their fins breaking through the surface.

You had squealed, unable to contain your excitement, committing every second to memory. A once in a lifetime experience, making this trip to Secret Springs one of the best vacations you’ve ever had. 

With the shore now rapidly approaching again, you’re drinking in your surroundings for the last few minutes, committing the whole day to memory, until it’s time to set foot on the mainland again.

However, your gaze keeps flitting back to the man steering the boat, who had been introduced as Dave and your captain for the day by the tour guide when you first boarded. You hadn’t been able to keep your eyes off of him all day, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, the way his biceps was straining against the seams of his light blue t-shirt, the sharp jawline and the quiet concentration and competence that he exuded. 

Contrary to the tour guide, who kept chatting away, his mouth remained shut, full lips pursed, jaw clenching and unclenching. His eyes were piercing, keeping track of every movement, both out on the water and on the boat. There was no way he hadn’t noticed your staring, with the way his eyes had met yours a few times, his lips curling into a small smirk each time before he turned away again. 

Your boyfriend’s arms wrap around you from behind, his chin hooking over your shoulder. Hot breath fans against your skin, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching over your cheek as he places a swift kiss there. 

He follows your line of sight, an amused rumble from his bare chest vibrating against your backside. 

“You like him, princess?” Oberyn asks, a grin obvious in his tone. 

You nod silently, your eyes still trained on the man behind the boat’s steering wheel. He kisses you again, longer this time, lips lingering on the soft skin right behind your ear, his tongue catching a taste of the salt that has seeped into your whole body after the day of the water. 

“So do I.” 

You giggle, sinking deeper into his embrace. 

Dave is closed off at first when you walk up to him after he’s the last person to step off the boat. His jaw firmly set, giving the same air of quiet confidence that you’ve felt drawn to all day, but his fingers are twitching at his side when you approach him, his eyes flickering between you and Oberyn’s figure a few steps behind you. 

“Hey,” you smile sweetly, not missing the way his gaze quickly trails down your body in your short summer dress, before it flies back up to meet your eyes. “We were thinking, as a local you know all the best places around here, right?”

A wry grin grows on his face at the term local, but he hums in agreement. “Sure. How can I help you?” 

His voice travels right through you, deep and gravely, his words clipped with precision. Polite, but efficient. Entirely unlike Oberyn’s drawling purrs, but not any less intriguing. The cold exterior is drawing you in, challenging you to uncover what’s underneath.

“We wanted to go get a drink tonight, maybe you can show us the best spot for that?”

“Allow us to buy you one as well,” Oberyn chimes in from behind you, stepping closer and snaking one arm around your body. His hand comes to rest at your waist, sending warmth through the thin fabric that’s covering you. His thumb glides against the underside of your breast in a calculated movement, just short of grazing your nipple.

Even as you swallow down your responding whine, Dave’s gaze zones in on the movement, one eyebrow rising as his pupils dilate, his eyes turning darker. One corner of his mouth turns upwards.

He’s a quiet shadow moving beside the both of you, but he still keeps catching your glances at him, his pouty lips curling into a smirk each time. 

The bar he takes you to is less crowded than the ones right next to the beach that you’ve already visited, and the drinks aren’t as overpriced, but just as delicious. There’s a large deck on one side, with twinkling lights strung up between the poles and the scent of the surrounding flowers wafting through the air. 

Sinking into comfortable chairs in a corner, you sip on your drink and watch as Oberyn tries to get to know your companion better. He’s the more talkative one of the both of you, exuding the smooth charm and confidence that immediately drew you in when you first met him, but Dave doesn’t crack nearly as easily. 

His answers stay short, every word from his lips calculated, no information about him given freely. Heat is already gathering between your thighs, just from watching them. Both their presences overwhelming in the best way, both of them making you want them. 

It leaves you antsy, desperate to do something, something to be closer. You rise to your feet, extending a hand to Dave. “Dance with me?” 

His eyes widen a fraction, looking from your outstretched hand to Oberyn, who hasn’t moved an inch. “You don’t want to?”

Oberyn smirks, settling deeper into his seat, a picture of relaxation, but the tension of underlying excitement sparkling in his eyes isn’t lost on you. 

“No. I am enjoying myself right here.” 

Dave seems to consider for another moment, before he shrugs and his hand closes around yours. You love the feel of it, the warmth of his skin sinking into yours where you’re touching, his fingers calloused and rough against yours. The sight of him leaves your mouth dry, the shades of his face in the dim light, the dark pools of his eyes. They’re exactly the same shade as Oberyn’s, but where Oberyn is familiar, his eyes telling stories of love and joy every time he looks at you, like a warm bath that you can sink into, Dave’s eyes are like steel. Cold. Watchful. Not any less interesting. 

You start dancing, moving your body to the beat that’s playing from the speakers, a sensual rhythm that makes it easy to get closer to him, to get a taste of how his body would feel against yours. Letting yourself get lost in the high of the day, in the soft haze of the alcohol in your veins, in the nervous energy that’s bubbling inside of you at the prospect of this new adventure right in front of you.

As you grind against him, one hand curls around your hips, strong and determined, effortlessly stopping your movements. The simple touch is enough to make your knees go weak, holding the promise of power, of everything you want from him. He firmly holds you where you stand, putting some distance between the two of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His tone is still clipped, challenging in a way that sends heat through you. You like the no nonsense attitude, like the way his eyes are firmly trained on your face, the spark of something darker in them that makes you want more. 

“Dancing,” you pout, eyes widened in mock innocence. 

“Don’t bullshit me. Your boyfriend’s right there, sweetheart.” 

You turn to look at Oberyn, who’s already observing the both of you. He still seems relaxed, knees spread wide, lounging in his seat, but the hunger is burning in his expression. He teasingly raises an eyebrow at you and you return it with a grin, before your gaze finds Dave again. 

You take a step closer to him, leaning in to whisper into his ear. A small shudder runs through him.

“He doesn’t mind sharing.” 

The grip on your hips tightens, a low growl raising in Dave’s throat at your sudden proximity. 

“Is that so?”

You nod quietly, trailing your fingers over his chest. “He likes it.” 

His mouth is so close, close enough that you give in to the temptation and brush your lips against his. He growls again, louder this time, one hand curling around your neck to hold you right there as his teeth dig into your bottom lip. You sigh against his mouth, pliant under his grip, delighted at the change in his demeanor. 

His touch travels higher, up your sides until he’s almost in reach of your breasts and you’re slowly unraveling, your body desperate for more.

“Having all the fun without me, princess?” Oberyn turns up behind you, caging you between the both of them, mouthing at your neck and you whimper into Dave's mouth. 

“Thought— thought you were happy watching,” you gasp when he grinds against you and you feel his growing stiffness against your ass. 

He bites your neck gently, and you shudder again. 

A quiet look passes between the two men. You see the quiet question in Dave’s eyes, the evident satisfaction at what he finds in Oberyn’s, before he squares his shoulders and pulls up to his full height. 

A pleasant shiver travels up your spine as you watch the silent exchange. They’re two sides of the same coin, the same kind of energy, all confident and strong, but channeled so differently. Where Oberyn is all smooth, flowing like water and wrapping himself all around you, all-encompassing but almost impossible to grasp, Dave is nothing but hard edges, sharp enough to cut if you’re not careful. You want them both.

It’s dark in Dave’s apartment, only the faint glow from the moon and the streetlights filtering in through the windows. The rooms are almost eerily tidy, barely lived in. Your skin is still warm, both from the humid evening air outside and the heat that’s steadily growing inside of you at the prospect of what the night has in store for you. 

Still, the space you just entered somehow feels cold, much like the man that it belongs to. Except that, right now, that man’s lips are finding your neck, sucking at the same spots where Oberyn’s mouth had been not too long ago, his tongue hot against your skin as he pushes you down the hall. 

Your fingers reach for Oberyn instinctively, a silent breath leaving you when they intertwine with his. Feeling Dave on you is so new, so different, leaving you dizzy with excitement. He’s intense already, his touch demanding and firm, hands digging into your flesh as he steers you towards his bedroom. The anticipation makes you nervous, makes you long for the familiar touch of the other man to ground you. 

It’s a tangle of limbs, two pairs of hands on you as you stumble into Dave’s bedroom. The interior is minimalistic, functional, no personal items that you can make out in the dark. No photos, not even a dried up plant on the windowsill. You briefly wonder what kind of person he is, outside of this. If he has friends, hobbies, what he does when he’s not working. 

The train of thought dissolves when Oberyn’s mouth finds yours, his nose bumping into your cheek and his beard scratching against your chin. So similar to Dave’s kisses, and at the same time, not similar at all. One hand cups the back of your head, pushes you into the kiss, its touch vaguely unfamiliar. 

Your eyelids blink open, catching Dave’s, whose gaze is dancing between the both of you, watching, raw hunger behind his dark irises. You flick your tongue against Oberyn’s, relishing in his responding groan, and in the way Dave’s eyes darken further, trained on your boyfriend now. 

Oberyn pulls away, linking his hand with Dave’s that’s still resting at the back of your head. You’re hypnotized by the sight of both of them touching, even if just for a brief moment, before Oberyn places Dave’s hand on your shoulder, hooking the other man’s fingers under the thin strap of your dress. 

Winking at the both of you, he saunters over to the bed, spreading out on top of the covers, an expectant glint in his eyes. He looks so good like this, so easily commanding every setting he finds himself in, the confidence surrounding him at all times. Your attention wavers when Dave tugs at the straps, goosebumps forming on your skin where his fingers skim over you. 

He raises his eyebrows in question, toying with the fabric, waiting for your confirmation.

“Go ahead,” you breathe, excitement weighing out the flicker of nerves. 

He nods, determination painting his features, the kind of calm assuredness that has you pressing your thighs together when he slides the straps off your shoulders. 

The flowy dress lands in a heap at your feet, leaving you in just your panties, your breasts braless and already bare for him. 

Dave’s eyes widen, a mumbled Fuck tumbling from his lips. A proud smirk passes over Oberyn’s features. 

“She is just a dream, is she not?” 

“She is,” Dave growls, his broad hands roaming over your skin, pulling you closer. 

“Touch her,” Oberyn’s voice sounds from the bed. “She likes being played with.” The casual authority oozing from his tone, paired with being talked about as if you’re not there, is almost enough to get the heat blazing through you to boil over. 

“Does she now?” Dave murmurs, cocking his head and dragging his gaze down your body, purposefully slow. You start squirming when his fingers glide over your nipples, playfully tugging at the hardened buds. You whine in reaction, a needy sound that has both men chuckling. “Yeah, you do,” he coos, nipping at your throat. Your responding whine to the sharp pinpricks of his teeth is even louder this time.

His touch travels lower, skims over your stomach, stopping just short of your panties, beneath which you’re already dripping for him. 

“May I?” It’s low, almost reverential. His gaze burns into yours, glinting darkly when you nod, a please, Dave falling from your lips. 

He finds you wet with slick, the fabric covering you completely soaked through, a moan breathy and high in your throat when he rubs at you through the fabric. 

“Please, more,” you whimper, all dignity lost to the hope of what it might feel like to have his thick fingers inside of you soon. His lips chase your mouth as he pulls your panties to the side, swirls a finger through your wetness and up to your clit. Your moan comes out muffled, licked out of your mouth by his tongue. 

You grab at his t-shirt, eagerly pulling at the hem, desperate to see all of him, to feel all of him. He helps you pull it over his head, exposing his upper body, all wide shoulders and massive chest, to your hungry eyes. You’re overcome with the need to touch him, the fire burning inside of you fueled by how strong he feels, how his muscles are flexing under your exploring fingers. 

In the lack of light, it takes a second until it catches up to you that his torso is littered with scars, white lines that shine dimly, skin that’s uneven under your touch. There’s a particularly large cut near his left collarbone, one that you mindlessly trace with a finger, until his hand closes around your wrist in a harsh grip. He pulls it away abruptly, the look on his face bordering on dangerous. 

Your whispered sorry isn’t met with an acknowledgement. His eyes close and open with a deep exhale before he meets your gaze again, pointing a curt nod towards the bed. 

“Hands and knees. Now.” 

You’re quick to obey, even more eager to please now, the harsher demeanor only driving your arousal to new heights. Dave’s hands span over your ass as you lock eyes with Oberyn. Your boyfriend has already rid himself of his clothes, languidly stroking his cock and regarding you with a teasing smile. 

The sight has you clenching with need, knowing how much he loves seeing you like this, knowing how much his pleasure grows from seeing yours, from being able to give you this. 

Behind you, Dave pulls your panties down your legs, leaving you naked and on full display for him. A deep moan escapes him at the sight, spurring you on to arch your back a bit more as you turn your head to look back towards him. He’s staring, the weight of it heavy on your bare skin.

“Such a pretty pussy, sweetheart,” he rasps, before he kneels down behind you and licks a broad stripe through your folds. His groan at the taste reverberates through you, your slick flooding his tongue, your whole body pulsing with need, each lick sending a new wave through you. 

When his tongue lets up on its ministrations and he sinks two fingers into you instead, thumbing at your clit, you cry out in pleasure at the sudden sensation. Your eyes find Oberyn again, touching himself more urgently now, keeping eye contact with you. He’s still smiling.

It’s impossible to take anymore, impossible to bear not feeling full for another moment, the stretch of Dave’s fingers not nearly enough. “Please,” you whine, turning towards him again, “I need you to fuck me. Please.” 

Dave chuckles darkly. 

“Need it, huh?” 

You don’t mind the condescending tone, don’t mind how desperate it makes you look, you just nod, silently pleading with him to have mercy on you. He indulges you, lets you watch eagerly as he takes off his pants and his cock springs free, thick and heavy and everything you need right now. 

A moan leaves you at the sight, earning you a smug grin from him, before he steps closer. You feel him nudge at your soaked entrance, one hand resting on your hip while he’s taking his time to tease you. Helplessly, you grind against him, wanting to feel him, needing to feel him. 

“Give it to her hard,” Oberyn purrs, leaning forward to cup your face. “I want to hear her scream.”

You’re still shuddering from his words when Dave finally sinks inside you with one sharp snap of his hips that punches the air from your lungs. He gives you no time to adjust, immediately sets a punishing rhythm. It jostles your whole body, would push you up the mattress if he didn’t pull you back onto him by your hips. 

It hits just as deep, stretches you just as wide as you wished for, screams and sobs of his name falling from your mouth as raw pleasure is spreading through you like wildfire.

Oberyn’s mouth is on your lips, on your whole face, drinking your pleasure straight from the source. 

“Is he as good as you imagined, princess?”

You can only whine and nod, incoherent babbles of yes, fuck yes the best that you’re able to manage. 

“Do you hear that?” he purrs, flashing a feral grin towards the other man. “She is feeling so good, so drunk on your cock that she can barely talk.”

He moves away from you, gets up from the bed and steps behind Dave instead, his hands gliding over the man’s shoulders, his eyes glued to where Dave keeps thrusting into you harshly. You can only imagine the obscenity of the sight based on the wet sounds that ring through the bedroom. With a quiet laugh and a pat on your ass, Oberyn shifts again. “I want a closer look.”

Rustling hits your ears, but when you crane your head to try and see what’s going on, Dave’s fingers tangle in your hair, forming a fist and pulling. It’s forcing your back into an almost painful arch and your head to point forward again. He leans over you, bringing one foot up on the mattress, growling into your ear while his cock somehow reaches new depths with the change of position. 

“You focus right here. You wanted me so bad, huh? Pay attention to me, then.” 

He plunges into you even harder, the sensations right on the pleasurable side of overwhelming. You twitch violently in his grasp when another touch reaches you, the familiar feeling of Oberyn’s tongue teasing at your clit all of a sudden, the coarse hairs of his beard scratching against the sensitive flesh. His chuckle at your reaction vibrates against your pussy, causing you to writhe between them, pushing back against Dave’s thrusts while trying to chase Oberyn’s mouth at the same time. 

Dave groans at the way you’re tightening and twitching around him, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, holding you in place. Oberyn licks and sucks at you, knowing your body better than you know it yourself, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy almost instantly. 

“Getting so— fucking tight,” Dave grits out from behind you, landing a slap on your ass that has you squealing. The sharp bite of pain sends you tumbling over the edge, pulsing around his cock, still sheathed deep inside you. Your hands uselessly grab at the sheets, skin stretching over knuckles, anything to keep you grounded as pleasure burns its way through you. 

Oberyn never lets up on his attention on your clit, soft licks and kisses that prolong the aftershocks of your orgasm until you’re trembling, your head falling forward, sweaty forehead connecting with the soft blanket on Dave’s bed. 

“Good girl,” Dave coos from behind you, one large hand gently rubbing over your back. “You’re doing so good.” He gives a tentative thrust, picking up his movements again when no protest of overstimulation comes from you. “You can give us more, can’t you?” 

You manage a nod and a soft yes, your mind still too lost in the lingering haze of your climax, but your body is already responding to the sensations of his cock dragging through your tight walls again. He stretches you just right, reaches so deep inside of you. 

“You are so wet, princess,” Oberyn’s voice sounds in your ears, his breath hot against your folds. “Tastes so sweet.”

His tongue moves away from your clit, licking through you, until Dave’s sharp intake of breath makes it clear that Oberyn has moved on from teasing just you.

“Is this okay?” 

You know that your boyfriend’s question isn’t aimed at you, that he’s well aware how okay with this you are, but the husky drag of his voice has you clenching around the other man anyway. 

“Fuck,” Dave groans, his thrusts slowing, chasing more than just your tight heat now. “I’ve never— yes. Yes, it’s okay.” Another breath. “Please.”

There’s more rustling, more movement between your legs, until Dave’s cock slides out of you, leaving you empty and wanting. You open your eyes, peering down at where Oberyn’s head rests on the mattress underneath you. His hand is wrapped around Dave’s cock, moving slowly, letting the other man adjust to the new experience. 

You slide your own fingers down, tangling in his hair, chasing the connection between all three of you. Your eyes meet for a moment, burning hunger passing between you. Then Oberyn pulls on Dave’s hips and closes his lips around the head of his cock, shiny with precum and your arousal. 

Both men’s voices float around you; throaty, needy sounds. Oberyn sucks Dave deeper into his mouth, and the grip on your waist tightens once more. You loosen your hold on Oberyn and prop yourself up on shaky arms to turn around again, desperate to catch a glimpse at Dave’s face. 

He looks wrecked, teeth digging into his bottom lip, eyes pinched closed, his breath coming in pants, his bare chest shining with sweat. You reach for him instead, intertwining your fingers with the ones that had been holding on to your waist. His eyes fly open, a grin spreading over his face when he catches you looking at him. A grin that you eagerly return. 

“We’re going to make you feel good, too,” you breathe. An emotion that you can’t place passes over his face, so quick that you almost think you imagined it. For just one second, he almost seemed vulnerable. 

Oberyn chooses this moment to position Dave’s cock back at your entrance, where you’re more than ready to take him again, your hips instinctively pushing back against him, your walls engulfing him once more. 

“Yeah, you are,” he growls, plunging into you again, the sudden return of the stretch forcing another moan and a fresh wave of slick out of you. He’s still holding your hand, pinning it against your lower back, jostling your body with every snap of his hips as if you were a doll. The deep thrusts hit your g-spot again and again, reducing you back to a babbling mess within minutes. The only words on your tongue are their names, mixed together by a string of pleads. 

You miss the fullness, the drag of his cock each time he pulls out of you, but knowing that when he’s not filling your pussy, he’s in Oberyn’s mouth, is enough to keep your arousal burning until he sinks back into you. 

A second orgasm catches up to you almost embarrassingly fast, pulsing around him and screaming your pleasure into the sheets. Dave fucks you through it slowly, keeps the high coursing through your body, until you’re nothing but quiet whines, your thighs shaking with the effort of holding you up. 

“Shhh, princess,” Oberyn’s voice floats to you, his familiar touch grazing your legs. You watch hazily as he retreats from beneath you, directing your body until you’re lying on the bed, everything around you soft and warm like a cloud. 

“Take a little break, yeah?” he whispers, leaning down to capture your lips. “I’ll finish what you started.” 

You watch in awe as his fingers trails over Dave’s chest, mesmerized as a shudder ripples through the other man, how he hesitantly but determined reaches out to Oberyn to return the touch. They’re a sight together, and you still want them both, still don’t feel sated.

With your eyes widening, you witness Oberyn slowly sinking to his knees in front of Dave. Seeing him in an act of such obvious submission is rare, the way he takes Dave deep into his throat, swallows him down. 

His hands are on Dave’s thighs, where the muscles are flexing under his fingers, his fingers that are wandering up further, sliding over Dave’s ass, out of your line of sight. What you can see is how Oberyn’s eyes are trained on Dave’s face, gauging his reaction to the touches. You can see the pure ecstasy written over Dave’s features as he comes with a loud groan, the shuddering pull of his abs as he’s spilling his release into Oberyn’s eager mouth, the fingers tangled in his hair and holding him in place.

Oberyn lets out a satisfied rumble at the taste, a sound that adds to the insistent burning between your thighs. You reach out for your boyfriend, tugging at his shoulder. 

“I want a taste,” you demand in a breathless voice.

Dave makes a sound like all air has been punched from his lungs, watching as if hypnotized while Oberyn leans towards you, cupping your jaw before he kisses you deeply. He’s licking into your mouth, sharing Dave’s taste with you, a taste that you can’t get enough of, your tongue tangled with his until he gently pulls away, calls you an insatiable little thing. 

A laugh escapes Dave at that, sinking onto the mattress and pulling you into him. You melt into his touch, let him maneuver you until he’s leaning against the headboard with your back resting against his chest. He’s lazily toying with you, mouthing at your neck and gently circling your nipples, giving you the occasional tug to force small, high sounds from your throat. 

You’re writhing against him, but your eyes are trained on Oberyn, who’s slowly advancing towards you. “Do you still want more, princess?” he coos, swirling a single digit through the slick between your legs, still overflowing with need. 

“Please,” you sigh, parting your legs further, making room for him. He sinks into you easily, filling you perfectly, both your lips parted in pleasure. He rocks into you, pressing your body against Dave who’s holding you tight, still playing with your breasts and whispering into your ear.

“Dirty girl… You gonna give us one more?”

You’re overwhelmed by their touches, feeling so close to another high, their scent engulfing you, huge hands all over your body, a heat that’s about to scorch you. You think that you’re pleading with them, but you can’t be sure, can’t focus on anything but how good it all feels. 

Oberyn leans forward, sinking even deeper into you, pressing your legs into your chest. “Taste yourself,” he husks, connecting his lips with Dave’s. The sight of both men’s tongues intertwined, paired with the sensation of Oberyn’s cock nestled impossibly deep inside of you, is enough to tip you over the edge one more time. 

Blackness is tugging at the edges of your vision, but fire is burning in your veins, coursing through you until your whole body is left a trembling mess. When you come back to yourself, both men are holding you close, shushing you and peppering every inch of your skin that they can reach with kisses. It’s soft, it’s warm, it’s safe. It’s heaven. 

The three of you end up in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets, intertwined with one another as closely as possible. You wrap your arms around Dave, whose eyes are already closed, but he leans into the touch instantly. 

“Thank you. You were fun,” you tell him with a giggle, your heart pulsing at the sight of an earnest smile on his face, possibly the first one that you’ve seen. Oberyn’s fingers are linked with yours, wordlessly sharing the deep joy that you both feel. You fall asleep like this, in a bubble so dreamy that you wish you could stay like this forever. 

When you wake up to the sounds of birds and waves in the distance coming through the open windows in the morning, your head resting on Oberyn’s chest as sunlight is filtering into the room, the other side of the bed is empty.

Dave is gone, leaving the both of you in an apartment that looks even less personal in the daylight, with no signs of the man who you spent the night with.

thank you for reading <3 comments, reblog & asks are greatly appreciated!

...I just need a moment...🥵 Make this into a series please!!!

“how do you feel about a full time job?”

warnings: fxf, slight bondage, strap-ons, rough-ish sex, lil bit of a mommy kink 

notes: this was written literally in one go in like…30-45 minutes, please be gentle. this is dedicated to @zeldasayer and her creation of thirst for Mr. and Mrs. York 

word count: 1.7k  

You told people you had been working for the York’s for a little over three months. And by work, you meant you would be railed on the kitchen counter by the Mister practically the second you were in the door and set your things down. It didn’t matter when, or where. He would have you spineless within minutes. His favorite place to have you was his room, on the bed where he slept with his wife, or even in his son’s playroom.

You were weak in rejection. He was the first man you had ever had and you had a hard time telling him no. Your protests of “Mr. York..your wife..” often fell to moans of “Daddy..harder.” as he had you panting for more.

You never knew that his wife would watch you two from the baby camera in the play room. You never knew that she plotted vengeance on her husband for taking a young thing like you in her home. In a way, she couldn’t blame you. The very charms you fell for in her husband, he had once used on her. He could be very…persuasive.

Four months of watching you be wrecked by her husband, four months of hearing your wanton moans and screams while her son was napping in another room, and she was consumed with jealousy. She wanted to make her husband pay, and unfortunately that meant you were in the middle of it.

One particular day, David was out on business, leaving you and Mrs  York home alone. She mostly kept to herself as you tended to the little one. You made the two of you lunch and when you called her to the kitchen to eat, she smirked, noticing you limping around. She poured two glasses of wine for you both as she sat at the counter.

“Are you alright?” She asked, feigning concern. She noticed the blush creep over your cheeks. Cute. She thought.

“Yes ma'am, I just..did a really hard cycling class yesterday. I can barely move today..” You trailed off, laughing nervously as you set her plate down.

You caught her and she smiled almost wolfishly. “Are you sure it has nothing to do with the fact that my husband fucked you eight ways from Sunday?”

And in an instant, you froze, comely paralyzed by her statement. She could only smile in amusement at your bewilderment and stuttering.

She cut you off, “Don’t bother trying to hide it my dear, if the video footage wasn’t proof enough, I know my husband well enough to know he would try something like this. Don’t worry, you’re not going to be fired, in fact, I simply would like to discuss a promotion. Sit.” She gestured and you sat.

She swirled her wine in her glass before taking a sip and watching you with curiosity. “Well aren’t you just precious. No wonder he took a liking to you..” She gently traced the side of your cheek. “I’m wondering now. Would you let me fuck you like my husband does? He is good, but he forgets what a woman likes sometimes. I’m sure he’s missed some of the details.”

Your legs clenched together under the counter and your lips parted a little. She was nothing like you expected. She controlled the way David did, and you couldn’t help but feel that familiar tug in your stomach like you did when David called you over to him.

You couldn’t help it, your eyes dilated with lust, curiosity from the potential, the what if’s that were suddenly at your feet we’re too hard to resist.

Your mouth felt dry,

“I just have to wonder if you’re really that good that you would make my husband cheat on me in my bed,” She laughed, “Don’t you think I’m owed that much? Oh but of course you have to want it too. It could be our little secret.”

The possibility of being with a woman made you ache. You weren’t closed to the idea, and the nerves you felt were pushing you to say yes. You felt that overwhelming need to submit again. The same way you felt when David turned into Daddy. She radiates power that not even he could wield over you and it made you wet.

She finished off her wine and sighed, going to stand up. You grabbed her hand, the desperation in your eyes was hard to miss. She smirked and helped you to stand. “This is a whole other ball game you’re getting into my sweet, I might not be as nice as my husband is. Are you sure this is something you’re willing to get into?”

Without thinking of the consequences, you agreed. She intertwined your fingers and led you upstairs. You had little idea of how truly fucked you were.

Before you could even really comprehend what was happening, you were in David’s office, Mrs. York was tying your wrists together with rope. She moved like an artist. She was making you a masterpiece. She left you sitting in his big chair while she disappeared  Your heart was racing now and you couldn’t really believe what you were doing. She came back and your jaw dropped. A different women had returned. A goddess on earth dressed in black lace. Your eyes travelled up and down and you couldn’t quite believe what you were seeing. She was in heels that made her at least five inches taller and you couldn’t have felt smaller. She knelt down in front of you and grinned.

“I have a surprise for you, angel.” Her voice should have given you a clue. It wasn’t going to be sweet. She pulled up an object and in your haze you couldn’t focus on it.

It looked like a toy you would play with at home in your bed…but big…

“This is a strap-on.” She explained. “It’s..well..” She laughed. “its bigger than what youre used to with my husband, but I’m sure that tight little pussy can handle it if I stretch you out.”

You moaned softly, biting your lips together.

You watched her put it on and you suddenly felt your legs go weak and tingly. You always craved David this way and this felt different, more powerful.

She spread your legs in his chair and unhooked your underwear from beneath your skirt, you were ashamed to admit it that you were already soaked but there wasn’t much you could do about it. She groaned softly. “Sweet girl..what a mess you’ve made of yourself.” She chided, the next instant she was spanking your cunt. It made jolt, you weren’t expecting that. Her torturing and teasing seemed to go on forever until she plunged her fingers into you, she didn’t fill you like David did, but she had your legs shaking in seconds, of course a woman knows what a woman likes.

Moans fell from your lips as you trusted against her hand, your body shaking as you felt the tension build in your stomach, you didn’t even have time to think before your orgasm crashed through you, not even David had made you cum that fast.

You looked to her through hooded eyelids. already overstimulated and shaking.

She smiled and helped you stand before she pushed things off of her husbands desk, making room for you to lay down.

“If my husband can fuck you in the places that mean most to me, I should be able to do the same right? It’s only fair right?” You nodded in agreement, she had you tripping over yourself. You spread your legs as she lined herself up, stroking her cock with lube to help you out. For a cold heartless, vengeful wraith, and as much as she wanted you to hurt she didn’t want to completely ruin you, You watched as she lined up with your entrance, pinning your hands above your head. In one swift motion, she pushing into you and you swore you saw the stars. No one had filled you this deep before and you had a feeling no one ever would. She gave little time to adjust as she started to thrust into you, her hand coming to rest on your throat as she squeezed,

“You take my husband like this, and you love it don’t you? You little slut? You home wrecker.” She snarled. “Let’s see if you’ll hold up for me too.”

All you do do was pathetically cry out, a strangle moan escaping your lips. She watched with delight as your face turned a pretty shade of pink and then red, all of a sudden she realized why husband loved fucking you so much. You were so responsive to everything.

She let go of your throat and held your hips, lifting your legs up and thrusting into you deeper, enjoying the symphony that came from your mouth.

You were desperate to touch her, to hold on to something, anything, but she was enjoying this far too much,

“You can’t squirm away,” She laughed. “Lay there and take it like a good girl, can you do that? You do it for Daddy all the time.”

“Yes Mommy!” You cried out, starting to blubber, “I’ll be a good girl..I’ll..I’ll..” You whimpered, starting to thrash a little. “be good..”

The Mrs. looked up and grinned, she had not noticed David standing at the door, jaw dropped, and cock slowly making an appearance against the fabric of his pants.

“Oh yeah, are you going to cum for Mommy sweetheart? Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

Your answer was lost in a mix of whiny breathy moans, your hips arching, desperate for more.

The tension was so tight you thought you would burst, and she was relentless in thrusting, you had never felt so stuffed in your life.

In seconds you were cumming for her, it was so intense your vision went white for a moment and you went limp on the desk.

In your blissed out states you could hear Mrs. York,

“Oh honey, I didn’t notice you there.” She laughed a little, “Y/N and I were just discussing her pay raise, I think she should be hired on full time, don’t you?”

I’ve been waiting for so long for this, and I gotta say IT WAS WORTH THE WAIT!!! 😭 This is one of those fics that seem short, but it packs a punch and left me breathless. 🥵 This was as nasty, ridiculous, and as sinful as I hoped it would be. Is there any chance for a sequel? Bc I would be all for it! Great job as always!!! 🥰

Above & Beyond

Dave York x Nanny!Reader

Summary: Mrs. York cooks you dinner as a thank you for accommodating to her schedule the past few months — for staying late and taking care of the children, the house & David. For going above & beyond.

Warnings: SMUT — a quickie, infidelity/cheating kink (is that a thing?), heavy daddy kink, some choking, hair pulling, risky, graphic sexual and degrading language, praise?, cream pie 18+

Masterlist | gif by the wonderful @pascalplease

——

“This is delicious, Mrs. York.” You grin, taking a bite of steak, your other hand under the dining room table.

“It’s the least we could do, you staying late and cooking for David and the kids the last few weeks.” Carol smiles.

“It was my pleasure.” You say, squeezing David’s thigh and he clears his throat before speaking.

“The house would’ve been a disaster without you.” He says.

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