#when Jesus comes only second to your 'wife' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cozymaples · 5 months

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total eclipse (steve harrington x reader)

a/n: ohhh man. this is a long one, but do i have a treat for you. with the weather getting colder i just...could not contain myself !!! brain go brrrr. literally! | (tags: @madtheivery) warnings: afab!reader, virgin!reader, friends to lovers, oral!f receiving, fingering word count: 3.4k

Steve doesn’t like you.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway. Because if he lies to himself this way, it’s half true. He loves you. He’s not sure which is harder to ignore-the strain of his cock in his jeans whenever he sees you, or the way his heart feels like it’s going to pummel out of his chest when you leave. So now, he’s been at this party for far too long, marinating between a sea of bodies that he can’t seem to push through; only to try and find you.

You’re making it difficult, though-lodged into the side of your boyfriend. Well, sort-of-boyfriend.

His hand rests firmly on your shoulder, the cheering and hollering of his winning cup in beer pong only tugging you further into him. You smile uncomfortably, jostled around as he earns slaps on the back and high-fives from his teammates.

Steve can only watch from afar, finally parting through the sea of people. He sighs to himself amongst the ruckus, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose before rubbing his temples. It’s subtle, but you notice. What’s better-the fact that your boyfriend doesn’t seem to. To ease any suspicions of him checking in on you, he keeps Robin glued to his side at all times. Though, it’s an equal split down the middle of eagerness to accompany the other. The pair hardly went anywhere alone, and you think it’s kind of sweet. Robin clearly needs Steve’s help of being a ‘ladies man’, and Steve clearly needs Robin’s help for the opposite. Which is why she tugs at his sleeve, tsk-ing before sighing loudly. Steve clears his throat, an immediate turn of the heel as he looks at her. He gestures defensively to the scene in front of him, before raking his fingers through his hair. “I wasn’t gonna say anything-” He starts. “Yeah, that’s the problem, Harrington!” Robin whines, verbally smacking the back of his head. “Wake up! You seriously think she looks happy to be with that beast?” Steve averts his gaze from Robin once more, glancing over his shoulder to look at you. He thinks Robin’s choice of word beast is harsh, but as he watches you get tugged around through second-party celebration, he can’t help but agree.

“No!” He whines, finally succumbing to Robin’s antics. “Okay? No! Of course she’s not!” He sighs with defeat, running his fingers through his hair again, brows scrunched with frustration. Robin chuckles, “Jesus, that hair is like a stress ball for you, huh?” He narrows his gaze, paired with an eye roll as he indulges in her amusement. “Yeah, yeah. Alright. What’s your point?” He asks. But he knows what her point is. Her point is-”That you need to tell her! You could be changing lives, Harrington! Think about it,” She starts, and he groans, accepting the speech that’s about to come. “You could love her, I mean, really cherish her,” She says, and she’s not wrong. Her arm snakes over his shoulder, pulling him closer to her. Her spare hand nurses a red solo cup, the drink sloshing against the sides as she uses her hand to gesture. “I mean, he’s gonna make her a trophy wife. And you know what happens to trophies, Steve?” He’s not sure where she’s going with this, but he humors her anyway. It’s as if she can hear his brows raise with curiosity, immediately continuing. “They get left on shelves, Harrington. Filled with lonesome and littered with dust, too damn useless now to remember what they were good for in the first place!” She finishes. His eyes widen.

Shit.

He can’t believe that Robin’s analogy has not only made sense, but now kicked his ass into high gear. A trophy? A trophy? Not on his watch. Not to be collected by dust, or gawked at by others. No. Not you. He decides, not realizing he’s made his way across the room, now standing directly in front of you. Your “boyfriend” has now parted from your side, and your brows raise with curiosity, but also surprise. “Hey..” You say, wondering if Steve even knows where he is, considering you haven’t spoken in two months. “Hey,” He retorts nervously, nodding once. “So, uh..where’s your boyfriend?” He asks. You chuckle at the notion, but you can’t really blame him for wondering. “He’s not my boyfriend.” You say, and Steve gets that look in his eye-the one that only surfaces when he’s genuinely surprised. You hold eye contact for a minute, gazes locked on each other as his features soften. “Oh.” He says, and there’s no snark to it. You can tell he wants further clarification, but minds his manners, which you love about him.

Unbeknownst to him, the ‘love’ thing going on was definitely a two way street. And now, for the first time, you don’t want him to think it’s a dead end for him. Not a second longer. “He hasn’t been..ever.” You say, and as the words tumble out of your mouth, you hear the truth in them for the first time. They hold weight now, standing in front of Steve, whose eyes haven’t left you for a second. Your back is firm against the wall behind you, the bustling of partygoers that had once swarmed you now sounding like white noise. “We were just..” You shrug, sheepish of the words you want to say. “..Fucking.” You say, quickly clarifying as his eyes widen with despondency. “But not actually-I mean, that’s what he tells people.” You’re fully engrossed in it now, the regret and disgust enveloping you in an embrace that you don’t want. “Never exclusive, considering he was fucking half of the cheerleaders,” You say, knowing that you trust Chrissy as your source. “I just..didn’t wanna go all the way. Not with him.” You decide that’s enough rambling, sparing him the details of what you did to compromise in place of sex. Steve extends his hand, an offering he’s hoping, pleading silently that you’ll take. You know if you take it, this is the end of everything you’ve known, and the start of everything you want. “Come with me,” He asks, voice soft, tender. “Please,”

And that’s how you’ve ended up sitting in the backseat of Steve’s BMW, filling him in on the past two months. “I was just..settling. I knew what I wanted, but..I just didn’t think to take it.” You confess, feeling every thump of your heartbeat ripping through your chest. It aches, yearning for the man in front of you. The silence between sentences is heavy, both of you terrified to spill to the other-terrified that if you speak now, it’ll all be for nothing. That it won’t be the same. “What did you want?” Steve asks, clinging to every word you say as though it’s oxygen itself. You feel a lump rise in your throat, threatening to tear out if you don’t speak now. Steve hasn’t touched you, not laid a hand on you this entire conversation. “You.” You exhale,, the years of everything you could ever want to say to him now fastened into a single word. Your heart rate increases rapidly, and you feel like you’re going to pass out if he doesn’t say something. The bellowing of drunken teenagers belting Total Eclipse of the Heart escapes from the four walls of the house, despite the fact that Steve’s got you parked halfway down the street. “Me?” He asks, hoping, praying that you mean it. You swallow harshly, nodding. “You.” You confirm, terrified that years of friendship on the invisible string you’ve tied between the two of you, sealed by fate itself, will snap. Wondering now more than ever if you’ve somehow misinterpreted every interaction between the two of you; every lingering gaze, every comforting shoulder he gave you cry on. Steve rushes his palm to your cheek, cupping your face as he presses his lips to yours. It’s deep, and tender, like you’ve allowed him to finally breathe again, as though he never has before in his entire life.

“God,” He breathes, murmuring the phrase against your lips. “I love you,” He says, and it punches the air out of your lungs. The teenagers continue their belting. “I love you,” You confess, and it bursts out of you, finally able to say what you’ve been dying to say for years. Your ‘I love you’s’ tumble out of both of you, overlapping between the kisses he’s pressing to you, over and over, and over. The soft giggling that you share between the two of you is innocent, nearly in disbelief that this kind of happiness can possibly be real. Your lips are swollen, cherried red from the amount of kisses he’s graced you with. His hand rakes through your locks, and you lean into the touch, gazing up at him dreamily.

“Be with me.” He says. You stare back at him. “Be with me,” He repeats, his thumb stroking your cheek. You sit in disbelief. “Yes,” You say, terrified. He can sense your nerves, soothing you with a gentle kiss. “M’not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.” He assures you, gently tilting your head to the side by your jaw. “Now that I’ve got you,” He says, spoken between kisses. They line your jaw, traveling down your neck. “I love you so bad,” He coos, and you sigh with satisfaction. You wish his kisses lingered longer, feeling your stomach flip with lust-but you don’t want to ruin the moment. Don’t want him to think of you the way other guys have. “Always have,” He continues. You try to ignore the warmth in the pit of your stomach, yearning for his touch. It’s as if he reads your mind, continuing to cradle your jaw in his palm as he sucks gentle marks into the flesh of your neck. “Is this okay?” He asks, earning a soft moan from you. “Uh-huh,” You breathe, and he pauses. “Yes,” You assure him, and he continues.

Steve, too, doesn’t want to treat you like any other man has. He never will. He’ll treat you better. The best. He knows it. Now, all he needs to do is show you. You take his free hand, slowly guiding it to your knee. It’s bare, your skirt hiked up from the way you’re angled in the backseat. He pulls back to look at you, pupils widened, hesitant. “Wanna take it slow,” He says, and you sigh. “Wanna take care of you.” He says, rubbing gentle circles into your knee. You don’t know what to say, or how to say what you want to. But you figure this is your chance to prove to him that you don’t want it to be like every other guy. He’s special. “You know how I told you that..nothing ever happened, between me and him?” He nods, humming softly. “It’s..never happened. Not with anyone.” His thumb halts, the circles he’d been tracing now stopping in their tracks as the silence lingers between you, the hum of the running engine in the background. Steve’s not an asshole-not one of those guys who obsesses over virginity, “deflowering” whoever they get their hands on. But he’s gentle, wanting to handle you with care. Because you’re special to him. Because he loves you. “Oh,” He says, that same look of surprise from the party gracing his features. You can tell he’s not judging you, or surprised that you haven’t done anything. He’s just…surprised. “Yeah..” You trail off, and he grins lightheartedly. “And you want me to..in the back of this shitty car?” You exhale a laugh through your nose, raising you brows for a moment. “No, but..I want to. With you.”

So, that’s how you end up in Steve’s bed, the clock on his bedside table reading 2:23 a.m. His head is delved between your thighs, working his mouth tantalizingly on your clit. His shoulders shelve your legs, holding you steady under your thighs. “Steve, please-” You writhe, unsure of what you’re even asking for. You just know that you want more. “Soon, baby.” He promises, his voice muffled into the plush of your thighs, pressing kisses along them every time he needs to speak. He’s intentionally taking his time, basking in all the experiences he’s getting to show you. How good he’s going to get to make you feel. “My pretty baby.” He coos, tongue working against your pussy once more. You throw your head back, tugging at the locks of his hair, gasping and panting as moans spill from your lips. He wants to take his time with you-find out what makes you tick. So far, he’s gathered that marking you and working his lips against your clit makes your head spin. But he wants to know more-wants to know everything.

“Want you inside-” You beg, finally casting your gaze downward upon him. Before he looks up at you, all you can see is tousled chestnut waves,tightened by your grip, broad shoulders, and large palms. “Can’t take all of me yet, baby,” He says, your pussy clenching at his tone. It’s almost condescending, and your brain goes fuzzy registering all of the experience that he has. “Gotta work you open first.” He pulls his face from between your thighs, pressing his thumb gently to your clit, working delicate circles into it as he looks up at you. “Think you can take my fingers, honey?” He asks. Your brows are furrowed with desperation, soaking up every ounce of pleasure he grants you. You hold onto it, not wanting him to take it away from you. “Yeah,” You urge, nodding. And even if there’s a little dishonesty His gaze harbors caution, not wanting to go too hard on you. He gently slides a finger inside of you, causing you to hiss through your teeth. “Too much?” He quickly asks, and you shake your head. “No, no-just-keep it there for a second,” You urge, the muscles in your stomach tightening with anticipation. It hurts, but only a little. Still, you need to let yourself adjust. You quickly do, the pain subsiding, melting into pleasure as you finally adjust to his size.

He continues, finally working two fingers into you. He’s been knuckles deep in you for a while now, his mouth sucking gently on your clit to ease any discomfort. Your head feels dizzy, and all you can focus on is the pleasure he’s granting you. No one’s ever taken care of you like this before, and he’s urged you to just feel it. To just feel good, and not focus on anything else; just the sound of his voice. He finally climbs up from between your legs, hovering over you as his forearms rest on the mattress. “I love you.” He says, honestly. You nod in agreement, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth. “I love you.” And in this moment, you know it’s forever; that everything you had gone through to get right to this moment was worth it-that it all had a purpose. He slides his cock along your entrance, gliding into you slowly. You hiss between through your teeth, and he quickly reaches for your hand. “You’re okay, baby-right?” He assures you, but he’s also asking. You’ve never seen someone balance the scales so well. “M’okay,” You nod. “Promise.” He continues, “S’the same as my fingers, baby.” He explains; soothes. You can tell by the way his breath shudders; he’s having a hard time keeping it together, that it’s taking everything in his power to not pound into you-to watch your eyes roll back into your head, all because of him. But, he’s a gentleman. “It’ll go away-feel good.” You start to feel yourself adjust, just like how you did his fingers. A moan slips from your mouth, a sign for him to finally move. “Move,” You plead, and his eyes light up. Not because he gets to fuck you, but because you’re okay. “Yeah?” He asks, his breath hitching in his throat.

He starts slow at first, studying your features, still on that journey to find out what makes you tick. “M’gonna be gentle, honey. ‘Kay?” He nods, and you return the motion. “Wanna see-” He starts, slowly lifting your leg up. His frame leans into yours as he does so, his cock reaching deeper inside of your pussy. “Oh-” You gasp, moaning softly as he hits that spot inside of you. A spot only he could reach, and the only one who ever has. “There.” He notes, chestnut hair falling to frame his face. He can’t help the smug grin that tugs onto his features, tongue-in-cheek as he looks down at you. Your pussy is dripping, and you can’t take it anymore-tortured from the foreplay he’d given you. “Please, God-Steve. Want you to move, please fuck me-please-” You say, nearly babbling. He nods, soothing you as he hushes you. “Shhh, alright. Alright, baby.” He chuckles, and he moves his hips, his broad shoulders shelving your leg that he’s got ahold of. He keeps it steady, wrapping his arm around it as he fucks into you. Harder, and faster. Moans start to pour from your mouth, and you’re unable to contain any sounds that you make because of him. “Yeah, that’s it.” He praises, fucking into you harder. He doesn’t take his eyes off you for a second, reading any and every facial expression that you make. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” You nod rapidly, feeling his cock slide in and out of you. It’s like nothing you’ve felt before..ever.

”Yes-fuck-” Your brows furrow, scrunching together as you feel a warmth build in the pit of your stomach. He’d denied you an orgasm with his mouth, and his fingers, so you’d be ready to completely unravel for him. Any time you felt like you were getting close, he’d stop. You’d wondered why, until now. “Wanna see you. Wanna see your face when I give you your first.” Your head lulls back as you moan for him, tugging at his biceps, needing him closer. You’re nearly skin to skin, his hair hanging forward as it brushes against your forehead with each thrust.Your leg is still lifted, just bent now, causing your stomach to bunch with rolls as he presses his chest into you. “Come on, honey.” He coos. “Come for me.” It’s the first orgasm you’ve had that wasn’t by your own hand; finally by the hand you’d wanted it to be all along. You pant beneath him, feeling your pussy clench around his cock as you come undone for him. Your cheeks flush pink, rosied and fucked-out as your nails dig into the flesh of his biceps. “Uh-huh, there it is.” He chuckles, feeling his own orgasm approaching. You’d been on birth control for all sorts of reasons that..had nothing to do with sex. Until now. “Come in me,” You say, nodding rapidly. His jaw goes slack, shuddering gently at your words. “Can’t say things like that, baby. Can’t-” “M’on the pill, Steve-please,” You beg, “Promise, I love you.” Something shifts in Steve, and his full weight rests on top of you, pounding relentlessly into your pussy. He buries himself in the crook of your neck, sloppily sucking hickies into the flesh, leaving purple bruises in their wake. “I fuckin’ love you.” He breathes, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. He’s still holding your hand, finally spilling over inside of you. His moans are staggered, jolting out of him as he finally regulates his breathing, rolling over beside you as he pulls himself from you. He immediately pulls you into his side, feeling the fresh linen sheets bunch up beneath you both. Your eyes have adjusted to the moonlit room, studying his features in the dark as he looks at you. He’s lovestricken, doe-eyed with a wide grin on his features. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.” He says, and you roll your eyes with sweet embarrassment. “Stop! No you were not-” You tease, laughing softly. “I was-!” He retorts, brushing stray hairs out of your face as he smiles. “Always have been.” You stop your laughter, feeling it melt into a soft grin as you bask in the moment of his confessions. “And so have I.” You say. He pulls your face to him, pressing his lips to your forehead. You sigh with relief into his arms, feeling yourself doze off as he murmurs against your flesh, knowing that forever starts tonight. “Always will be.”

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pedge-page · 4 months

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Joel dealing with Preggo Wife # 7: House Pet

Can be read with others in series or standalone

Warnings: unprotected sex, slight Daddy kink, suggestive of oral M receiving, annoying reader and annoyed Joel

18 + ONLY

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You watch one depressing commercial of shivering dogs left emaciated in the cold begging for love and care, and all the water in your entire body comes flooding out in tears.

“J-j-j"—snUFFF—“JOeeeOEeeeoelllLLLL!!!" You wail, wiping your snot on his shirt sleeve while curled up against him. “THEY NWEEEDDD MWEEEEE!!!!”

“You wanna donate?”

N-d—nooo--“sniffle—“wanna -wa-wanna aa-ad-ad-opt—“

He chuckles like its some obvious joke, but when he sees the absolute shine in your giant eyes staring pleadingly at him, he puts his foot down as gently as possible: “Honey, we can’t have a dog right now. With you—being like this, and a baby on the way, I’ve got enough on my plate as is. Wanna make sure you and babygirl are well taken care of first, okay?”

There’s a tense silence hanging in the air as you seize a breath in your throat.

And then you’re LOSING IT, whining and crying like a child into his face.

“Jesus,” he mumbles softly, gently stroking your hair, hushing little shhhhh into your forehead and rocking you in his arms like a baby in a cradle— a giant baby stuffed with another baby currently rattling the emotions of the big baby.

He's given you a cup of water for bed and tucking you in, picking up the litany of tissues tossed around you, while you refuse to quit your puffy eye’d and endless barrage of tears.

By the next morning, swollen lids yet calm, he thought he’d heard the last of it last night. And you were doing much better mood wise—no cries, though a little cold shoulder to him. He gives you a few hours till you’re over it and asking for ice cream like nothing happened.

Until now, five days later where every minute is just a retort to his face about getting a dog.

When you best friend comes over to give you extra baby clothes:

"Aww your girl named her puppy Winston? That's so adorable! Joel, ya hear that??” You peak loudly so he can hear from the kitchen. “Too bad I don’t have a puppy named Winston.”

"When you have our daughter, she can get a puppy named Winston"

"Oh! Already picking her over me for getting a dog?"

He rolls his eyes, tuning out to focus on making you biscuits that are too salty so you’ll have something else to whine about.

During movie night:

“…If only I had a dog to help keep my feet warm on the couch.”

He shovels a fist full of popcorn into his tilted back, wide mouth. “‘At’s what a blanket’s for.” he yanks your favorite soft one over your toes and keeps his eyes on the TV.

To the neighbor that just fucking moved in two weeks ago:

"Joel doesn't kiss me enough. If I had a dog, I wouldn't complain as much since the pup would love me unconditionally."

He grits his teeth, excusing himself to the bathroom.

At Tommy’s place for a Sunday BBQ:

“Bought the wood second hand—I re constructed our living room myself,” he says braggingly, drawing a beer from the cooler.

"Yeah, Tommy, it’s real nice.” You charm, and you can already see Joel's fist clench at his side. “Would look even better with a dog in the window."

“Wish I had a fluffy dog to cuddle instead of your big ass."

"My husband spoils me so much. He usually gets me anything I want without asking! Unless it's a dog ..."

Joel finishing adding furniture to the baby room.

"You know what else this room could use?”

"A dog bed, a dog blanket, a dog.”

"If you say-one more-god damn thing-about the dog..." he huffs.

"What dog? We don't even have a dog."

"We don't-need one. Got a cat in the house already."

He thrusts in again with a grunt, your trail of thought disappearing for a second just as Joel’s fat cock penetrates you.

The two of you are lying sideways on the bed, his chest pressed flush against your back. With your leg just barely propped up with his masculine arm hooked under your knee, a hand splayed protectively over your big belly, he has enough room to slot his length into your achy sopping cunt, slowly fucking you with harsh little jolts. You grip the back of his neck, fingers clutched in his sweaty locks, feeling his hot breath dampening your collar.

He lets out a pained hiss. “This lil pussy right here is all the animal I can handle now. Now quit it.”

His hips begin to crash lightly over your ass, rutting his tip deeper into you with muffled slaps. He loves the sight of your now largely grown thighs jiggling with each impact. Loves the feeling of your swollen breasts suffocating his other hand. Loves the knowledge of his wife so stuffed full of him for everyone to see.

You moan lightly, clenching around him at the leisure, unhurried yet pent up pleasure coursing through you. But your mind wonders again. “If you don't want a rescue we can get a certain breed: How about a malnoise? Or something smaller like a corgi? Or aussie. Oh Pitties are so cute!"

He rolls his eyes, nose buried in your hair. How are you even able to have a coherent conversation right now while he's rearranging your guts? Rather than hushing you with another quit it, he decides to entertain you. "Jesus woman. Ain't pitties all mean?"

"Nooooo —mmm baby, right there—“ you whine, panting in sync as you lowly try to hump him back. “Protective, intimidating looking.” You smile, mouth agape and eyes closed when he hits that sweet spot deep inside. “Just—like you, big ol sweethearts…Who give their wives exactly what they fucking want—like a dog."

“Christ.” The hand from under your leg glides over your wet clit, his rough digits rubbing fast circles while his other free arm unfolds from under your throat to grip it lightly. His knees bend so he can rock just his hips with ferocious power, railing with the intent to fuck you so dumb, you can’t help but shut up. “One more peep and I'm switching us up and gonna fuck you like one.”

You really didn’t want to —resorting to this lounging position because your back hurt too much to be fucked doggy, and the baby weighed too heavily to ride him. Thank God his cock was fucking huge—it could reach deep into you at any position. No fucking wonder you got pregnant so easily.

“no- no Daddy, I'll be good," you hum. "Unfff—mmm-yeah—yeah! Fuuuck—fuck me baby that’s it!” You shout. Joel’s hand works endlessly on your little nub, now at the mercy of his ministrations to get you off since you can’t reach yourself anymore. You grip your belly and cry, walls convulsing around his meat with a much needed orgasm. Joel follows suit not too long after, biting your shoulder as his hips still against your ass, pumping you full of his pearly cum.

The two of you stay in the same position, breathing heavily as you come down from your respective highs.

His eyes close, breath slowing and getting deeper in relaxation as his fingers lightly dance over your swole bump.

You feel the gentle cooling breeze of the fan spinning above you. Sighing contently now filled with your husband’s love and caressed with his tender hands.

“…So I was thinking, when we get a dog..."

"WE ARE NOT GETTIN’ A DOG AND THAT’S FINAL."

Tommy comes over and can tell something is up between you two. When Joel leaves the room, he asks "so what is it this week with Joel?"

"He won't get me--what do you mean THIS week??"

"Nothing nothing, he won't get you a what?"

"A dog. I want a dog. He doesn’t want a dog. So I don’t understand why he can’t compromise and get a dog.”

He laughs. “Honey, cuz that’s not a compromise. You know why he won't get you one, right?"

"Cuz he doesn't want to take care of me, a baby, and the dog at the same time"

"Nah. He's worried you'll only want the dog’s affection, and the baby gets the rest of your attention. Then you won’t have anything left for him.”

“…Oh!"

Later that night, Joel is still steaming from your earlier conversation after sex, having no regard for listening to another thing you had to say the rest of the day. You waddle into the bedroom, looking apologetic as possible with your hands held behind your back. He only looks up from the bed to see you: in his large T shirt with nothing else, freshly lavender scented from your bath, and big pleading child-like eyes full of sorrow. He purses his lips before returning to his book, glasses perched on his nose.

You approach Joel with an apology gift that you hid behind your back: a stuffed wolf.

He smiles gently unable to even pretend to hold his temper against you. you kiss the tip of his nose as he caresses your smoothed bump. “You're my favorite dog anyway,” you say warmly. “Needy. Grumpy. Likes food. Gives me kisses."

“Thought I didn’t give ya enough kisses? Least that’s what you told neighbor.”

“That was—a lie.” You bat your eyes cutely. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Mmmm,” is all he says, his eyes raking over your curves just barely covered now due to your size. “I don’t know, Daddy might need more apologies — ya did treat me real bad this week.”

You hum sadly, nuzzling yourself against his chest. your hand trails down his firm middle, all the way to the growing tent sticking up from his boxers.

“I can lick it better,” you whisper seductively in his ear, nipping at his pulse point.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

And after one of your famous deep throated blow job with Joel's balls happily emptied in your already full belly, he leans over to his side table and pulls the drawer open, holding something tight in his hand.

You just barely stop yourself from falling asleep with your head on his lap when he dangles a dog collar above your head. You sit up, inspecting it with grubbing hands: it has your home address etched on to the metal plate, but no name on it.

“What you want me to be your dog? I’ll wear the collar but I’m not getting on my knees, nor crawling around and drinking from dog bowls and shitting in the yard—“

“No angel,” he shushes you. Although the image of you wearing the collar, naked and heavily pregnant on your knees in front of him wasn’t a bad idea at all…he shakes his head from the delusion. ”Aint for you. Thought about it—but ONLY after have the baby and are settled, and ya know IF —and that’s a mighty big if—we find one that’s not too rough shape, got a good sense about ‘im, then MAYBE I’ll consider it.”

"Oh my god! Thank you! Thankyouthankyou--"

"I said IF sweetheart. Got along road ahead till then."

"I'll give you as many blow jobs as you want."

"You already do that for yourself."

"Yeah but... how about I sit on your face? Fully?"

His ears perk up. "Yeah?"

"After the baby is born," you quip, smirking with more confidence then your swollen body can muster trying to wiggle away from his grasp like a devious chubby oompa lumpa. He just laughs to himself as you slip down the bed, and the sudden urge to pee has you B-lining to the bathroom.

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roosterforme · 5 months

Text

Always Ever Only You Part 20 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After your adventure at the bar, you only have the remainder of the weekend with Bradley before he's taking off once again. You both make the most of that time, but an unpleasant surprise lingers as he leaves with his duffle bag and a new notebook. You just hope he can return with a successful mission under his belt.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, pregnancy discussion, fluff, smut, spanking

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

It was late Friday night. Bradley was leaving on Monday for the top secret special mission, and he might end up missing his birthday with you. Your parents were planning to come visit in July. You'd just had your husband pick you up at the bar during a sexy role playing experiment. And now you were on all fours on your bed with him balls deep inside you.

Honestly, the evening just kept getting better; he was giving you everything you wanted tonight. You got to witness first hand the way he picked you up at the bar by combining his old school tactics with the new things that he knew would really appeal to you specifically.

And now he had seamlessly switched from being your sweet, loving Daddy to being the Daddy who called you his bratty little slut. When you turned to look at him over your shoulder, his eyes looked deep and possessive. His cheeks were flushed, and his expression looked a little mean. God, you were already starting to clench for him as he said, "I love my slutty little wife."

"Oh god," you moaned as he placed one rough hand on the back of your head and pushed your face down to the pillows.

He leaned over your body, caging you in with his mouth next to your ear while he absolutely nailed you. "Knew you'd come home with me. Knew you'd be begging for my cock. You didn't even wear underwear tonight, that's how fucking bad you wanted it."

"Bradley," you gasped, ready to come as he smacked your ass and grabbed your hips with both hands and unloaded inside you for the second time tonight.

"Jesus," he growled, his movements becoming jerky as you rocked back against him through your own orgasm. You slowly let your legs slide out from underneath your body, and he eased himself down so he was laying on top of you, panting for breath. "Am I hurting you?" he whispered, kissing your cheek as you turned your head to the side.

"No," you mumbled in a daze underneath his warm body with his cock still shoved up inside you. "Kind of comfy, actually."

"Okay," he replied as his cheek came to rest on yours. "And don't even think about asking for round three tonight. I'm fucking beat."

You knew better than to joke about his age. It was less than three weeks until his thirty-seventh birthday, and his confidence was still a little shaky after his last deployment. "I'm tired, too," you whispered.

"Can't believe you wanted me to pick you up from the bar like that, Sweetheart," he murmured. "How long were you there before Ethan tried to make you his little snack?"

You laughed, but Bradley's weight on top of you stifled the movement. "About two minutes."

He shook his head. "An investment banker with a Ferrari? It's incredible you ever went for me at all."

You wiggled underneath him until he lifted himself into a push up position, sliding out of your pussy and holding himself still so you could roll over onto your back. "I'm always going to go for my Daddy," you whispered as he eased his body back down on top of yours. "He promised to take exceptional care of me."

You ran your fingernails through his hair and along his scalp, and his eyes closed in pleasure immediately. "I always will." His lips were parted, his cheeks were flushed, and he looked so handsome as you kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry there were times I didn't. I'll keep doing better and better."

He would. And you were so thankful that you made it back to this point with him. You felt like you could tell him what was on your mind again, and you knew he was really listening. He wasn't hiding his feelings and concerns from you. The trust you felt was almost palpable, which was making every other part of your marriage right now exceptionally good.

"I love you, Bradley." You whispered the words softly, like they were so precious they might break. Then you whispered them again, a little louder, like they were too important to hide.

Both of his hands were on your face, thumbs rubbing your cheeks as his fingers pushed back along your hair. He brought his lips down to meet yours, and a few minutes later you whispered, "I thought you were too tired for round three."

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

Bradley was in love with you and in love with everything about this weekend. He'd been more nervous than he anticipated when he got to One Trick Pony last night, but you'd been delighted by the role playing. It was easy to slip into a fantasy with you when he knew that his normal life and yours were waiting on the other side. And you knew he wouldn't let anything happen to you.

Now you were perched on his lap at the dining room table in just his rather threadbare UVA tee shirt, dousing the plate of breakfast in maple syrup. You fed him a bite of the stuffed French toast you made for him while you kissed his cheek. Bradley was physically exhausted today, and you and he hadn't even made it out of the bedroom until noon. Even then, he only came to the kitchen to feed Tramp who was whining non stop, and you offered to make him anything he wanted for breakfast.

"Is it good?" you whispered before you tried a bite.

"Fucking delicious," replied before nibbling gently at the side of your neck.

Your laughter rang out, and the sound was so pure and beautiful, he hated to bring up the conversation that needed to happen today. But after the French toast was eaten and the plate was left in the sink for him to take care of later, he led you and your second mug of coffee over to the couch. Bradley pulled you legs up onto his lap and kissed your knee.

"Can we talk about my deployment?"

You eyed him up and down and said, "You mean your top secret special mission? When you say deployment, it sounds like it will go on for months, and I really hope you'll be back in time to celebrate your birthday with me."

"Fine," he said with a sigh. "Then can we talk about my top secret special mission, Sweetheart?"

"Yep," you replied with a smirk, and he really did have to appreciate how calm you seemed right now. It was making him feel calm, too.

"I'm leaving my wedding ring here with you. Just like last time. I'm taking the silicone one, even though I don't like it as much, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks for telling me." Your lips were hidden behind your mug, but Bradley could tell you were smiling. He'd fumbled things so badly last time in part by not reminding you he bought the placeholder ring. He was unwilling to go away in a similar fashion this time; his goal was to leave no doubt in your mind about him or anything else while he was gone.

"And I really might not be back before my birthday. That's barely two weeks from now, and I don't have any firm dates. I just hope they fly me back commercial again so I'm not sitting around waiting for a comanche to bring me home."

You set the mug on the coffee table and climbed onto his lap. "I know you might be gone longer, but I'm holding out hope anyway." The way you fit perfectly in his arms when your cheek was resting on his shoulder would never not amaze him. You snuggled in a little closer and said, "But just come back home to me, Roo."

He swallowed hard. The two of you had had so many conversations just like this one over the many months you'd been together and the many times he'd left for his work. He was just happy he'd be leaving on better terms this time.

"You know I'll always fight for that, Baby Girl." He kissed your forehead. "Let's take Tramp for a walk down to the beach. It's kind of overcast today, so maybe it won't be as crowded." You nodded and started to stand up as Bradley said, "Oh, one more thing. When your parents let you know when they're coming out to visit, book them a hotel room. I don't care how much it costs, put it on the credit card."

You stood in front of him with your hands on your hips. "They can just stay here-"

"No."

"Oh come on, Bradley. We can have quiet sex!"

He shook his head. "Book the hotel room for them. And when I get home, we can talk about renovating the upstairs space into a usable bedroom or two. Because they will need to be a whole floor away with how loud you get. Or I'll never be able to look them in the eye again."

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

On Sunday, you were starting to feel a little melancholy. You had less than a day before you had to drop Bradley off in Miramar at five in the morning, and your anxious energy was creeping in. At least he seemed to want to be around you as much as you wanted to be around him.

"Will you help me finish packing?" he asked, rubbing a big hand along your tattoo through your shirt while you stood at the open refrigerator. You pulled out the pack of chicken that you needed to have thawed so you could make dinner soon, and then spun around to face him.

"What do you need help with?"

He shrugged. "Nothing really. Just thought it would be nice to have you in the bedroom with me while I organize everything."

"How are you this sweet?" you asked as you took him by the hand and led him down the hallway. Tramp was having a puppy dream in his little bed, so you quietly joined Bradley at his open duffle bag. You saw his neatly packed underwear, socks, shirts and uniform components. His travel sized toothbrush and razor were there, too, along with some photos of you and him together.

"Am I missing anything I need?" he asked seriously, as he counted how many undershirts were in a stack. You carefully climbed onto the bed and pretended to pack yourself in the bag, and Bradley laughed quietly. "I fucking wish."

"It would be like the first time, when we were both sent out to the carrier together."

Bradley groaned as you sprawled out across the middle of the bed. "I only get Cyclone and Warlock this time. No sweet Baby Girl diligently waiting for my return."

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling as he climbed on the bed with you. "Don't you dare get shot down this time. And don't jump off the carrier deck either. And definitely don't get flustered by the young dipshits from Lemoore. Cyclone said you're one of the best, and you are."

Bradley let you collect him in your arms and he just inhaled your scent and absorbed your warmth. Then with a sigh, he removed his wedding band and handed it to you. "You can keep it safe for me," he whispered.

"I'll have it with me when I pick you up. Wherever and whenever I pick you up."

Bradley eventually finished packing before he went to take a long shower and shave around his mustache while you made dinner. You kept telling him he needed a good night's sleep tonight. You weren't wrong, but he wanted to stay up and spend as much time with you as he could. He was about to tell you that he could sleep on the comanche, no problem, and that you should let him stay up all night with you. But when he walked into the kitchen in his clean boxer briefs, he was greeted by the most wonderful sight.

Your back was to him, as you strained pasta at the sink, and the smell of Marry Me Rooster cooking was making him weak. You were wearing just your white Mrs. Bradshaw panties from the wedding night along with your I Love Meat apron. He couldn't see the embroidery on the front of your underwear, but he knew the way the pretty satin fabric bunched around your thighs by heart. And that dumb apron he bought was the only other thing on you, tied around your neck and across your lower back.

He was already throbbing for you, and he knew it would just get worse. "Hey, Roo," you said casually when you saw him. "Dinner is almost ready. Wanna grab some beers and I'll bring a plate in."

"Yeah," he rasped, pecking you on the cheek and running his fingers along your bare back when he walked past. He couldn't even tell if it was intentional or not. Maybe you didn't realize you were turning him on right now. He got two beers from the refrigerator and went to sit at the table, and you joined him a minute later with one plate piled high with dinner.

You set it down softly in front of him, but his eyes were on you as you untied the apron and let it fall to the floor. And yeah, it was intentional. Yes, you knew you were turning him on right now as you stood there topless with Mrs. Bradshaw written across your pussy.

"You need a good dinner and a good night's sleep," you told him, but he made no move to eat the Marry Me Rooster yet. He patted his thigh for you to take a seat, but you just shook your head once and squeezed down between his body and the edge of the table until you were on your knees. You looked up at him with questioning eyes as you pulled his cock and balls free of his underwear and licked his tip.

"Do I need that, too?" he asked, voice deep and rough. You just nodded as you wrapped your lips around him. "I think you're right."

You bobbed slowly up and down his length before you popped him free and whispered, "You can eat your dinner," before licking his balls.

"One thing at a time," he grunted, fixated on how pretty you looked as you smiled and parted your lips again. You weren't in any hurry, and neither was he as you ran your tongue all over his length in broad stripes before sucking. Bradley ran his fingers and knuckles over the curve of your cheek while he kept one hand at the back of your head. He wasn't forceful as he guided himself deep, but when you gagged on him, his head tipped back as he panted. You felt so good, and the soft sounds you made as you tried to take him impossibly deeper just made him harder for you.

"Fuck," he growled, looking at your eyes watering as your lips skimmed his balls and his trimmed hairs. Your nipples were hard and you were moaning. "Come up here. Ride me."

You whimpered as he helped you up onto his lap. His length was dripping with your saliva as he pulled your wedding underwear to the side and let you sink down around him. Bradley was a little afraid he didn't have much left in the tank for you, so he stroked your rooster tattoo before tucking his thumb inside the front of the satin fabric. He let you set the tempo, rubbing yourself against his hand how you wanted him. Your forearms were resting on his shoulders as you played with his hair and kissed him lazily, languidly. Your tits brushed his chest with every movement.

"You feel good," you murmured with a soft smile before returning your lips to his. Bradley just grunted, already feeling himself getting close from the sure and steady roll of your hips and your tight pussy. Then your fingers wound a little deeper in his hair as you moaned, "Oh. You feel good."

He moved his lips to your neck and found that sweet spot to suck on while you begged him to rub your clit harder. Your begging turned to near screaming as you came, and he allowed himself to as well. There was a wet, sticky mess where you and he remained connected, and after you licked his lips and kissed his mustache, Bradley leaned down and kissed your breasts.

"Thanks for making my favorite dinner," he whispered, kissing his way back up to your lips before reaching behind you for the plate. Then without moving, he held the Marry Me Rooster between your soft body and his, and you fed it to him as you ate some yourself.

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

Bradley plugged in his phone and yours and took your glasses off before kissing your forehead. It was barely eight o'clock, but after dinner and a quick phone call to your parents, you insisted he start getting ready for bed. You looked tired, and he felt tired, so he did as he was told. And now as you curled up on his chest in bed, Bradley took your hand in his.

"Did you want me to read from my notebook?" he asked. You already knew he packed a fresh one to write in at night while he was away. It would be a nice break if he had an annoying bunkmate to deal with.

"Not tonight," you whispered. "But I'm sure I'll read it while you're away."

He turned off his light and kissed the top of your head. "I'll be thinking about you the whole time. I have no idea if I'll be allowed to call you, but if I have the chance, I will, okay?"

"Okay, Roo."

"I love you," were the last words on his lips as he dozed off. Then the alarm was blaring on his phone way too soon, and he was handing your glasses back to you again.

"Do you want anything to eat?" you asked blearily. "Or just coffee?"

"Just coffee," he replied as you slipped out of bed in the pitch black bedroom. "I'll take some protein bars, too."

Bradley watched you pull on some yoga pants and a tee shirt so you could take him up to Miramar before you got yourself ready for work. He heard you messing with the French press in the kitchen while he zipped up his uniform pants, and then you were shuffling past him and into the bathroom.

You were still using the toilet while he brushed his teeth, and he barely heard you whisper his name. "Yeah?" he asked as he spit and went to rinse.

"My period started. A day or two early. I knew I was feeling a little crampy."

Bradley turned to see the sadness in your eyes, but you took a deep breath and squared your shoulders. He hadn't been thinking about it. You and he hadn't been talking about it. He wasn't overly concerned at the moment with your cycle. And even though he knew you hadn't been as absorbed with trying to get pregnant for the past month and a half, the idea must have still been in the back of your mind. Because he found that it was that way for him.

"Okay," he replied softly. "That's okay. I just wish I could stay and get your heating pad ready for you and rub your feet after work."

You nodded and he bent down to kiss the top of your head. "Me too," you whispered. "But Tramp will take care of me."

Bradley went to the bathroom cabinet and held up the different packages of pads and tampons and brought you the ones you wanted. Then he kissed you again. "You'll be okay. Right?"

"Yeah," you replied as you flushed the toilet. "I can talk to Dr. Genevieve if I need to, but I think I'll be okay."

He wanted to tell you a million times that it didn't matter if you never got pregnant, but he settled for, "It's me and you right now, and I love that."

You nodded against his chest as he held you for a few minutes. "Let's get you to Miramar."

Bradley picked up his duffle bag but kept his fingers linked with yours as he spied you wearing his wedding band on the chain with your charms. He kissed your lips and then kissed his ring, and you were smiling again as you and he headed out to the driveway. When you tried to pull him toward your car, he said, "Absolutely not," and your laughter in the darkness had him smiling, too. "Let's take the Bronco."

He dropped his bag to the driveway to open the door and buckle you in. Then he was tossing the duffle into the back and starting the engine, and he backed out of the driveway as the beams from his headlights illuminated the front porch. He paused for a beat before shifting into drive and heading off for another assignment, another aircraft carrier, another block of time away from home.

As he drove down the street he turned on the radio and said, "Damn, you really made everything so much better and so much harder for me at the same time."

"What are you talking about?" you asked, turning to look at him.

"I just never thought I'd hate leaving home this much."

You leaned on his bicep and played with his hand for the rest of the drive up to the airstrip where a whole fleet of aircrafts were waiting. The sky was lightening, and there were officers and personnel everywhere along with some family members who came to say goodbye. When Bradley parked and helped you out of the Bronco. He saw Cyclone immediately, and he knew he should head over and meet his team and board the comanche, but he just held you instead.

Other people started their cars and left. Officers were boarding aircrafts, but Bradley just wanted another couple minutes here. "I love you. Be good."

You kissed his chest through his uniform and looked up at him with tears in your eyes. "I love you, too. I'll pick you up anytime. Just come back home to me."

He nodded before kissing your lips. "I will." He took your face in both hands and kissed both of your cheeks and your nose before settling his lips back on yours. "I will."

"I love you, Bradley!" you called after him as he carried his bag toward the barbed wire fence with his ID in his hand. He turned and looked back at you so many times, it felt like he wasn't even making any progress toward the airstrip. But he had to go, and part of him wanted to go.

He showed his badge at the gate opening, and once he was through to the other side, he cupped his free hand around his mouth and shouted, "I love you, Baby Girl!" You waved and wiped your tears as he headed toward Cyclone, Warlock and the aircraft that would take the whole group of them out over the Pacific Ocean.

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

And he's off once again. Going to peek in at Jake and Cat and sweet little Jeremiah. And I hope Bradley doesn't miss his birthday at home. So many things coming soon! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 21

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wileys-russo · 8 months

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blurb req for Georgia stanway if you write for her. Reader going with the team to Australia as staff maybe like a student physio or a photographer or something. Georgia has had a crush on teaser for some time now but refuses to do anything about it because she thinks you’re straight and dating someone else on the staffing team (spoiler: you’re not)

behind the camera II g.stanway

"alright alright i'm comin jesus keira!" georgia groaned as her best friend knocked on the bathroom door for the tenth time, threatening to leave without her.

"we're in australia ke, it's been a beautiful sunny day and we're going to the beach to watch the sunset. why are ya so moody?" the younger girl teased her friend as she finally exited the bathroom, squeezing her cheeks and grabbing her camera off the bed.

"you better have washed your hands." keira grumbled, the two of them leaving the room and catching up with the rest of the group who hung around waiting in the lobby. "what did ya fall in g?" lucy teased as keira blamed her for their late timing.

"shove off." georgia grinned, pushing the taller girl away who attempted to pull her into a headlock before running off after jordan. "ah look your girlfriends coming too." keira mumbled quietly from beside the blonde whose head shot up at her words, seeing you laughing with alex and mary a few pairs in front of them.

"would you stop? she's not my girlfriend and she's straight anyway." georgia huffed, rolling her eyes and busying herself messing around with the settings on her camera readying for the change in light.

"whose straight?" ella barged her way inbetween the two, slinging an arm over georgias shoulder as keira dropped back a little to chat with alessia. "little miss media, georgias had googly eyes at her for weeks now!" keira teased as the younger of the two glanced over her shoulder to send her a pointed glare.

"y/n?" alessia asked as georgia sighed but nodded. "oh g that's so cuute!" ella beamed, pinching her cheek tightly and running off before her friend could pounce on her. "not to assume anyones sexuality but how do we know she's straight?" alessia asked calmly with a raised eyebrow as their feet hit the sand, several of the girls running off towards the water for a swim.

"well she's dating mateo." georgia explained, nodding toward you who was stood with the second string trainer and mary, watching some of the girls attempt to get on one anothers shoulders with an amused smile.

"mateo? are you sure they're together?" alessias frown deepened, folding her arms over her chest and watching the pair off in the distance with scrutiny. "well they're always together, and they go out for coffee most mornings, and for a run like every afternoon, and they always sit together at dinner." georgia defended, missing the look shared between the girls stood either side of her.

"well you sure know her schedule back to front." keira chuckled, watching on as georgia merely hummed, only half listening as she watched mateo try to lift you onto his own shoulders as you threw your head back, your laugh echoing around the beach as georgias face dropped like a kicked puppy.

"g you're only speculating all of this. why don't you just talk to her about it?" alessia asked softly, bumping her shoulder into her friends to gain her attention, ripping her eyes away from you. "cause she'll think i'm a creep!" georgia scoffed, shaking her head and walking off with her camera in hand toward the rest of the group.

"so it's just her that doesn't know mateo has a wife and kids right? and that y/n obviously has something for her." keira sighed, alessia mhming in agreement as the pair watched you notice georgia join the group, immediately excusing yourself from your conversation with mary and mateo and making a beeline right for her.

"god she's thick sometimes." "the daftest girl we know."

"coming for my job are we stanway?" you grinned as georgia pulled her eye away from the lense, face brightening when she saw it was you. "figured i'd best have a backup if this whole football thing doesn't work out. if you can do it mustn't be that hard!" georgia teased as you playfully punched her in the shoulder and sat down beside her in the sand.

"go on then, give us a smile!" you shook your head and pushed her camera away as she aimed the lense at you. "no thank you! this face stays behind the camera." you shook your head as georgia protested and instead took several pictures of you laughing from the side.

"not up for a swim then? i think you'd look dead good in some goggles." you grinned nodding toward tooney, rachel and niamh who were all splashing around with the ridiculous head wear. "and let you capture that and put it on the internet for everyone to see? no chance!" the girl firmly disagreed with a grin.

"hey do you see my cameras anywhere? they banned me from bringing them, something about a work life balance? enjoying my time in another country?" you feigned confusion, stroking thoughtfully at your chin.

"sounds like you're slacking on the job to me, might have to dob you into sarina for the laziness you know." georgia shrugged with a sigh as you smacked at her shoulder, grabbing the camera from where it sat in her lap.

"do you even know how to work this? i know they send monkeys to space now but i didn't think they trained them to use cameras." you teased as now georgia smacked you and snatched the camera back, snapping another few candid pictures of you.

"do you and mateo have anything planned while you're here?" georgia took advantage of a comfortable pause of silence between the two of you to ask, remembering alessia's words and decided to just swallow the anxiety that came with them.

"uh, just working? i guess." you gave her an odd look at the question. "why?" you asked curiously, unsure where it had came from. "dunno, couples normally do stuff together on holidays." georgia shrugged, refusing to meet your eye as she looked off into the distance.

but her head snapped toward you when she heard the distinctive boom of laughter, seeing you doubled over and holding your stomach, georgias features creasing into a frown.

"whats so funny, they do!" "you think mateo and i are a couple?" "well...yeah." "oh god gee i knew you could be slow but i tried to give you a little more credit than this!" "what are you on about? i'm not slow!"

"mateo has a wife and three kids, they were literally there for the goodbye party at st georges park!" you laughed, your abs aching from the ongoing amusement as georgias face flushed deep red in embarrassment.

"but you're always together! you get coffee, you go for runs, you-" "well yeah, his wife is my sister after all. mateo is my brother in law you dope!" you revealed with a grin, georgias blush deepening as she buried her face in her hands.

"and while we're clearing things up for another thing i'm gay." "you are??" "well...i think i meet all the requirements."

"i've also been trying to flirt with you for weeks." you shook your head with a small smile as georgias head shot up and she looked at you, shock plastered all over her face. "you have??"

"clearly not been doing a good job of it if you hadn't picked up by now." it was now your turn to blush, chinks tinting a rosy pink at the confession. "-but now i know you thought i was dating my brother in law it makes a lot more sense." you smiled, georgia groaning and burying her face in her hands again.

"you know mary and millie even gave me an intervention, warned if i didn't start taking more content of the rest of the team and not just you i'd be sacked!" you grinned teasingly.

"can we start over?" the blonde beside you asked hopefully, giving you a charming smile as you shook your head. "afraid not, just can't forget that you thought i was dating my brother in law."

"alright alright! you can stop saying it now." georgia moaned with a pout as you smiled and knocked your shoulder gently into hers, another pause of silence falling between the two of you.

"so...i should ask you out then?" "well i was patiently waiting." "oh shut up. would you like to get breakfast tomorrow?" "nah sorry, missed your chance." you grinned cheekily, snatching her camera and snapping a picture of the offended look which overtook her face.

"breakfast sounds good, your shout since you thought i was dating my brother in-" "okay! we get it, how many times do i need to say im sorry?" "i actually don't think you have at all yet." "well i'm sorry." "sorry for..." "are you really going to make me say it?" "you know suddenly i actually realised i don't like breakfast-" "fine! sorry for thinking you were dating mateo." "who is...my brother in law."

"stop saying it! how many more times are ya gonna say it?" georgia huffed with a frown which only made your amusement grow, kissing her cheek as her expression perked up.

"how many girls are on the team? twenty two? twenty three?" "twenty three." "well then i'll be saying it twenty three more times." "don't you dare!"

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso #woso imagine #engwnt #woso blurbs #georgia stanway x reader #georgia stanway

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moralesispunk · 27 days

Note

I have no clue if you're taking requests, but how about dad! Simon or girldad! Simon with a baby girl and he and wife! reader gets her ears peirced, and their baby starts crying hysterically! (Bonus if wife! Reader starts crying too cuz she feels bad)

Husband Simon Riley x Wife! Reader (x and daughter)

ahhh tumblr did not give me my ask box notifications so I have a few to work through - fluff first!

but i can so see this :(

Simon holds your baby - Lucy - on his lap, two of her tiny hands playing with the fingers of one of his hands and her little legs kicking to the radio playing over the speakers. Her face is bright and excited after picking out the sparkles for her ears. Simon's face - on the other hand - is not bright or excited.

His hand that Lucy is not playing with is curled protectively around her, his palm pressing against her belly and holding her snug against him when the piercer walks into the room.

"Hi Lucy," she sing-songs, "hi mum and dad."

"Hi." You smile back but Simon only grimaces. "Jesus Si," you mumble when he winces as the piercer starts to unpackage the equipment, "you'd think it was you getting pierced."

"Feels like it," he mutters.

Lucy doesn't notice her dads nervous energy, her attention on the piercer and you as you chat through everything even as Simon clings to her like he's going to run from the room with her cuddled under his arms.

It's not that you're happy that Lucy is going to feel a pinch of pain, not when every single cell in your body would do anything to stop her from feeling pain ever, it's how endearing Simon's behaviour is.

Your six foot three, burly, ex-military husband, Simon.

Simon who almost made you late for Lucy's first vaccinations because his hands shook so much trying to get her out of her car seat. Simon who cushioned every corner of every surface when she showed the first sign of walking

Simon who frowns when her bottom lip starts to wobble on the first piercing and whose eyes get glassy when she starts to all out cry with the second ear.

"All done, all done," the piercer soothes, though more for father or daughter you're not sure.

Simon immediately turns her in his arms, her head tucked under his chin and his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. You swear you see him lift a hand to wipe a stray tear off his cheek with his thumb and you bite back a smile.

"Well done," the piercer holds out a sticker, Lucy's red rimmed eyes peeking open from where they had been pressed against Simon's chest. "Do you want to put it on?"

She mumbles something that sounds like "daddy" so Simon takes the sticker, peeling it and pressing on the sleeve of her tshirt before he stands.

You walk towards the till, Simon still pouting and awkwardly reaching for his wallet in his back pocket even as he holds Lucy against his chest.

"C'mere honey," you say, taking her into your arms and letting her head rest on your shoulder as her arms wrap around your neck. "Look how sparkly your ears are now."

She starts to smile, and while Simon pays you walk over to the mirror. You ohh and ahh until she's giggling and standing in front of the mirror, looking at her piercings.

Simon comes up behind you, a hand on the bottom of your back and his attention on Lucy.

"See," you say, "she's happy now."

Simon just grunts and you chuckle, reaching for Lucy's hand and wrapping your other arm around Simon's.

"Come on, you two," you say, "I'll treat you both to some ice-cream for getting through that."

And even though Simon rolls his eyes, you see the way the corner of his mouth twitches into an almost smile.

#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x y/n

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norman-fucking-reedus · 1 month

Text

More childish Daryl because we all love his big little shit self and his little shit attitude

and more of Rick being a victim as well as a little piece of shit

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

There weren’t many things life that you were afraid of anymore besides dying. or your loved ones dying. Oh and every form of insect left on the planet.

“Daryl Dixon take that thing back outside and the fuck out of my house!” You yell in horror when your husband comes sprinting into the house with a large and exotic bug cupped in his hands, holding it out to you excitedly. “Look at it though!”

“Very, very nice my love… Uhh,” Your eyes dart nervously around. “Here! Put it in here for safe keeping” You grab a jar and push it towards Daryl, staying as far away from him as he would let you, which wasn’t very far. “He’s gon die in there” Daryl mumbled, shifting on his feet.

You sigh. “He won’t outside. Y’know, where he lives?”

“But I ain’t ever seen this bug ‘fore” Daryl pouted slightly.

“Daryl. Please.” You give a soft but stern look.

The man frowned, dropping his gaze down to his new friend as he walked him back out the door. “Fine.”

You sighed in relief watching the archers wings disappear behind the creaky slam of your front door, out onto the Alexandria streets to terrorize the community. But you didn’t know that part.

Over at Carol’s house, she lounges comfortably on her porch swing, a real good and captivating book in one hand, a cooling, untouched cup of coffee in the other. She’s so invested in the story that she doesn’t even feel Daryl’s presence behind her, totally not coaxing his new friend off his palm and onto her shoulder, watching as the strange bug crawled down her arm slowly.

At first she didn’t feel it, finally taking her first sip out the mug after hovering it for so long. When she moves to place the cup down, glints of iridescent purples and blues catches her eye, and she glances at her sleeve.

“Jesus! What the fuck!? What the fuck!?” She hollers, tossing her book and shooting to her feet, flailing to get the bug off of her. When she pauses to glance around, in search of the little pest so that she could squish the fucker, she finds it crawling on another, much larger pest. “When I get my hands on you, you are so dead” Carol fires daggers at Daryl, who holds the insect with a victorious smile. “Don’ threaten him”

“I’m threatening you. Also ‘him’?” Carol rolled her eyes, and moved further when Daryl took a few steps towards the porch. “I found him by the wall but Y/n ain’t let me keep it”

“I applaud her for dealing with you, now shoo. You’ve completely ruined my reading time” The woman sighs and sits back down on the swing, picking her book off the floor. “Where’s Rick?” Daryl quipped, turning and scanning the area. Carol watched him quietly, a smile tugging her lips. It felt like only yesterday that the hunter was nothing but a locked box, never opening up or showing any form of emotion. Now, he was practically bouncing off the walls, more of a rowdy kid than anything else. It made Carol a little sad, knowing that Daryl never got to chance to be the rambunctious kid he was born to be.

She watched as he walked away, bug in hand and wings on his back. There was a first time for everything, she supposes.

Of course, this saying is true, because this is the first time Daryl is really putting his ass on the line. He bit back the evil smile creeping on his face as his eyes landed on his victim, who shamelessly flirting with his wife, totally oblivious to everyone else around him. Rick was rambling and yapping to Michonne, not taking his eyes off hers for a second as he spoke.

She smiled and nodded, listening and digesting whatever he was saying, occasionally adding commentary of her own. It was a casual conversation, and Michonne had started to move to kiss Rick, him doing the same and shutting his eyes in anticipation-

“Fuck! Fuck! The fuck?!” He yelled, jerking away from his wife and reaching a hand to his back, patting aimlessly around for the strange crawling sensation on him. “What’s on me?!” Rick spun around, and Michonne screamed. “Oh hell no! Nope! Nope!” The woman backed away, and as she did she spotted Daryl, as did Rick.

“Dixon!” Rick’s voice rang out through the community, followed by heavy running feet mere seconds later.

Daryl cackled as he ran from Rick, taunting him and mocking the mans angry shouts and insults. Also threats.

“You are so fucking dead Daryl!” Rick yelled from behind him, trying to increase his speed to get closer behind Daryl, who had no reason being as fucking fast as he was. “Please don’ shoot meh officer!” Daryl fake cooed, laughing but it was cut short by Rick ultimately deciding to take a leap of faith, crashing right into the hunterman, who almost instantly tightened all his limbs around Rick.

The men grunted and squabbled in the middle of the street, yelling and screaming at each other. “Stop it you dicksucker tha’ hurts!” Daryl wailed and kicked at Rick, who was twisting his leg. “Dicksucker? Must be missin’ the countryside huh Dixon?” Rick grumbled, releasing the kicking limb and latching onto Daryl’s arm, punching it when holding it down didn’t work. “Ain’t nothin miss ‘bout it, except ya wasn’t there” The man grunted, bringing his other arm up and grabbing onto a fist full of Rick’s curly hair, pulling on the strands. The man let out a pained yell, reflexively reaching his hand up to pry Daryl’s hand off, but that just let his other arm free.

When Daryl had slung his arm around Rick’s neck, bicep already tightly wrapped and flexed around it, the familiar creaking of a door caught his attention, turning his head to take in the house that they were fighting in front of. Your house.

Rick gasped for air when Daryl dropped him, coughing and about to take a swing at him when he also turned his head, both males now being stared down by you. Daryl more than ever.

“When I told you to take the bug outside, I meant back to where you got it, not on a tour around the fucking community.” You spat, arms folded over your chest. Daryl hung his head embarassedly, heat rising to his cheeks at the scolding. “Sorry mama”

“And you,” You looked at Rick, “You need to stop further provoking him because look how it ends each time” Rick furrowed his brows, “But he came to me first!” Pointing at the archer next to him. “Rick I don’t give a damn if chicken or egg came to you first” You rolled your eyes. “But-“ “No. This? This is very much over. You? You are very much in trouble.” You cut Rick off, descending the short steps and tugging Daryl off the ground by his vest, pushing him to go up the porch and into the house. “You? I’ll be letting Michonne know to keep you attached to her hip. Let’s go, Grimes”

Once you promptly delivered Michonne her loose dog, you made your way back to your house to deal with your own, sighing when the door shut behind you. Your eyes flickered over to Daryl, who was nervously sat on the couch.

“M’really sorry” He mumbled when you moved to stand over him, hands on your hips. “I didn’t wanna put him back”

“Daryl, you can’t just go around harassing people with bugs.” You shake your head at him, biting down on the inside of your cheek when Daryl shamefully looked away, face turning a shade of red. “But it was funny”

You sigh, “For you. Daryl, baby, some people are really afraid of bugs. I’m some people. Those things freak me the fuck out” reaching your hand down to lift his head up, brushing hair out his face. There were hints of guilt written on it, and you smiled softly.

“Hey, nobody’s mad at you, okay? You just have to be a little more aware of the small things” You kissed his forehead, once, twice, thrice, still smiling down at his flushed face. “Mama loves you” You whisper, and it cracks a small smile on Daryl’s lips, heart doing somersaults. “Love ya too” You kiss his head one more time, giving him a final on his lips before standing straight again. “Now that that’s over, I’m making something I think you’ll like” Your voice fades into the kitchen, Daryl following you. “Let m’guess; steak” He joked, but blinked when he peered over your shoulder. “I remember a very skilled hunter once telling me that ‘deer asses are tha’ best’”

“They are, ‘nd tha’s ‘bout to be tha’ best fuckin’ steak of m’life” Daryl bumped his hip against yours, playful smile tugging his lips. “Alright now. Don’t get rowdy in my kitchen” You eye him from the side, bumping his hip back as you lit the stove, using makeshift oil to butter the pan. Daryl slid a hand around your waist, kissing your shoulder before dropping his head there, mumbling a tiny “Sorry mama” next to your ear. You can’t help the smile the spreads on your lips, placing just one more kiss to the top of Daryl’s head.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I think that ‘baby’ and ‘mama’ are like really cute for outside of the bedroom, it’s intimate while not being too explicit if that makes sense

me fighting my urge to explain how Daryls mommy kink spews much deeper than you guys think

each time i typed mama i kept imagining a furby saying it

anways your honor my babyboy is innocent

#norman fucking reedus #the walking dead #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #twd #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x female reader #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl imagines #daryl x you #daryl x y/n

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theghostinyourwalls · 3 months

Text

Cake

William Afton x Wife!Reader

Tags: Smut, unprotected sex, food play if you squint, fluff, slight dubcon, daddy kink, pet names, praise kink, fingering, kissing, romance

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY GUYS!! This is my first official fanfic on tumblr hope you guys enjoy it <3

It was Valentine’s Day and the house was filled with the sweet scent of freshly baked goods. The clock on the wall showed that William would be home soon. You spent the majority of the day baking cookies, tarts, and cake to surprise him. Just as you finished assorting the sweets into a beautiful display, the door was swung open and promptly slammed closed. The sudden loud noise made you jump.

“William?” You called out for your husband, but there was no answer. A small shiver of fear ran down your spine. He usually responded to you when he’d get home. “William?” You called out again, this time turning around to search for him. A small yelp leaves your lips as you come face to face with the man. “Jesus Christ! You scared me!” You clutched your chest as your heartbeat returned to normal.

He still hadn’t said anything. His face was almost completely emotionless. His eyes were dark, his shoulders ridged. He looked stressed, tired, hungry even.

“Honey, is everything okay?” You asked, concern etched onto your face.

Instead of answering, he slowly approached you. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer. He kissed the top of your head before pulling your face up to his. His lips lightly brushed over your own before you finally leaned in and kissed him. The kiss was gentle and soft. His hands began to travel lower as he slid them over your ass and lightly squeezed. It made you gasp against his mouth, which he took to his advantage as he slipped his tongue inside, tasting you. The sweet innocent kiss quickly turned into shameless desire as he pulled your body even closer. His hard length pressed against your stomach as he continued to kiss you.

You pulled away from him, breaking the kiss. He looked at you, his eyes were heavy with lust. “I need you,” he panted. He spun you around so that he was behind you, trapping you against the counter. His hands found their way underneath your skirt. His fingers traced the waistband of your panties before dipping them inside.

“Wait! Not yet!” You squeaked out as he made contact with your center. He groaned into your neck as he felt how wet you already were for him. “William!” You tried to sound stern, but ultimately failed. He ignored your pleas as he gathered your slick onto his fingers. He teasingly rubbed circles over your clit and watched as you tried to resist him. You couldn’t help but gasp as he pushed his finger into your pussy.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. Just let me have this,” he whispered into the crook of your neck, his finger sliding in and out of you. He added a second one, his ring finger. The cool sensation of his wedding ring against your wet heat made you shudder. He began to thrust them into you at a steady pace with his palm pressed against your clit. The warmth in your abdomen began to intensify as he brushed his fingertips against that spot deep inside you. He quickened the pace of his fingers along with the pressure against your clit, making you whine and buck your hips against his hand. The pressure in your abdomen came to a peak surprisingly fast. Your body shuddered, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you. His fingers continued to move inside you as you rode out your high. “That’s it. You're such a good girl for me,” his speech was slightly slurred as he ran his lips along my neck, leaving behind a path of kisses and hickeys.

There was a brief moment of silence as he retracted his hand from you. The only sounds that could be heard were your soft pants as you caught your breath and William beginning to undo his trousers. You realized what was going to happen and you tried to deter him. “Wait, William we were supposed to- '' You choked on your words as his cock pressed against your ass cheek.

“Bunny, you know I can’t stop now. I need to feel you around me,” He almost sounded apologetic as he rutted against you in desperation. Before you could protest any further he pulled your panties to the side and aligned himself at your entrance. “Besides, I know you love it when Daddy stretches you open with his cock.” With that he slowly pushes into you. He only made it halfway in when you clenched down on his cock, your walls quivering around his shaft. “It’s okay baby, you can handle it,” he whispered, his voice was low and soothing. You tried to relax your overstimulated muscles and allow him to push deeper into you. With one more thrust of his hips he bottomed out. He was so deep that you could feel him pressed against your cervix. Small muffled groans and gasps escaped William’s mouth as he felt you completely surround him.

Slowly, he withdrew from you only to thrust back into your tightness. His pace was slow at first as he took his time fucking you. Your back arched against him as he continued to hit that sweet spot over and over again. It wasn’t enough to make you cum though, you both knew it. He held your jaw in his hand, pulling you to look back up at him. “You want me to fuck you like the good little girl you are?” You nodded eagerly at his proposition. “Then show me how much you want it.” You leaned further over the counter and pulled your skirt up to give him a proper view of what exactly he was doing to you.

“Please, can't you see how wet I am for you. I need you to fuck me harder, Daddy please. I can’t take it anymore, I need to cum on your cock.” With a satisfied hum of approval he began to fuck into you faster. His hips slapped against your ass as he harshly thrusted into your tight cunt. His hand snaked around to your front, finding your clit. He teased the sensitive nub, tracing light circles around it. Your body writhed at the feather light touch as you tried to push back against his hand, craving more friction. He gave into your desire for more and placed his fingers on either side of your clit, roughly rubbing them against you. He pushed your upper body down towards the counter, where the cake you baked earlier sat. You tried to push yourself back up, but he easily overpowered you. The buttercream frosting smeared onto your cheek. You normally would’ve been angry at him for ruining your creation, but at that point you couldn’t care less. Your pussy throbbed from his brutal pace and you could feel the tight knot in your abdomen begin to release. You knew he was close too by the way his cock twitched inside you. His cock brushed against your sweet spot one final time before you came. Your pussy tightened around his cock, rhythmically pulsing as white hot pleasure consumed your senses. Your body seized up as you felt the peak of your orgasm. A soft cry of pleasure escaped your mouth as you came on your husband’s cock. He groaned as your walls contracted around him, pulling him in deeper.

“That’s my good girl,” William grunted out in between thrusts. His pants became more and more labored as he sought his own release. You couldn’t help but smile when William, who usually tried to keep his noises contained, let out hiccuped whimpers as he came inside of you. His hot cum filled you to the brim. He stayed inside you for a while just catching his breath and enjoying the warmth of you before pulling you to stand up straight. You leaned back against him for support as he pulled out of you, leaving a small trail of cum that trickled down your thigh. He quickly pushed your panties back into place to try and keep as much of his cum inside you as possible. He tucked himself back into his trousers and spun you around to face him. He looked at the frosting smeared over your face before looking over your shoulder at the mess he made of your cake.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, honey. It was supposed to be a surprise.” You chuckled as you looked at his expression. His face was filled with love and admiration for you.

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry I ruined the surprise. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He leaned down and kissed you tenderly. He held your face in his hands after breaking away from the kiss. He turned your face slightly and licked some of the frosting off of your cheek. You giggled at the gesture and tried to push him back. “Mm, tastes amazing sweetheart. I think I have an idea.”

“Hm?”

“How about I leave, come back in and you can surprise me just like you wanted to. How’s that sound?”

You laughed at his silly plan, but agreed to it anyway. “Alright, then this never happened okay.”

“It’ll be our little secret.”

#william afton #william afton movie #steve raglan #fnaf movie #william afton x reader #william afton x you #fnaf #i need him #i want him #smut #matthew lillard william afton #william afton smut #daddy k!nk #valentines day #happy valentine's day #hope you guys enjoy #not edited #not proofread #fanfic writing

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artists-ally · 6 months

Note

I think Harvey would be thw type of person who makes love specially when he’s feeling sad. Like he needs comfort and to be as close to his s/o as possible, fingers intertwined and all that nice shit. How do you think reader would comfort him after he had a discussion with someone of his family?

{Oh, My Human Heart} Harvey Specter x Reader

So my mind went to [SEASON 8 EPISODE 5 SPOILER WARNING] where Harvey went up to Boston to defend his brother against his wife's divorce. That shit crushed my soul man, so this is based on that! Enjoy!! Title is a lyric from this song.

Word Count: 3,191

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, smut, Season 8 Episode 5 Spoilers

Summary: When Harvey returned home from visiting his brother unexpectedly, there is an obvious weight to his shoulders as he slumps inside. And it’s your mission to find out what it is and wipe it from his memory.

Tagging: @kjbg-fantasymoon (your request is next babes <3)

~~~~~~~

The door slammed. Hard. Concerningly hard.

“Harvey?” You shouted out into the kitchen, taking off the towel from your shoulder and set it on the counter. No one responded. Worry coursed through you, and you grabbed the knife from the cutting board. Just in case.

Your husband rounded the corner and you jumped, but let the fear drain from your held breath and set the knife down. “Jesus Harvy, you could’ve… hey, what are you doing back here?”

Harvey looked indecipherably pissed. He had hard creases in his face and his lips pressed in that flat line that meant someone was about to see that side of him that meant he was gonna raise hell. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, and he let his hands fall to his sides.

“Okay, okay come sit, love,” You reached for him and guided him to the island. “Do you want to talk about it? A distraction? To be left the hell alone?”

That communication strategy had worked wonders when Harvey came home from a lethal case. All the details you knew about this one involved his brother and a divorce from his wife. It had already shattered Harvey’s heart to hear they were splitting up, but this was… this was rage. Raw fury.

“I am going to open my mouth and let the floodgates go with it, and I just need you to try and make sense of it. Because for reasons only known by Jesus-fucking-Christ himself can this be possible.”

You just nodded, letting Harvey take some deep breaths. You noticed his hands were shaking. He was shaking. What the fuck happened in Boston?

“Marcus called me up there to represent him for his divorce,” Harvey started, thumbs in his eyes. “He told me that it was because she had an affair. I was ready to go kick down her door and take their kids away myself. Turns out, he lied to me. She was divorcing him because he started gambling again and he told Haley not to tell Katie.”

Your blood ran cold, all remorse leaving your body for Marcus. How could he fucking do that?

“So, tell me this Yn. Why would my own god damn brother, who I spent my money on to build him a dream restaurant, lie to my fucking face? Not once. Not twice. Four times. Four opportunities he had to tell me and he waited till the last fucking second. I-I can’t even begin to describe how sick it makes me feel to have Haley be put in that position.”

“It is wildly unfair for her, and for their son,” you felt awful for them. They were the sweetest kids and didn’t deserve to have that weight on their shoulders.

“I mean, was he not apart of the fucking family when mom did that to me? Did he suddenly just show up on our doorstep one night looking for a place to sleep like a stray cat? No, he didn’t. He’s my fucking brother. He was there when mom did it to me. And he saw what it did to our family. What it did to me. He was the one trying to fix our fucking fucked up family. To piece it together after the fall out and he expects me to do the same when he did the one thing worse than practically fucking cheating on her.”

“Harvey I think that's a little-”

“Now he’s destroying his own life. No, not even destroying, destroyed. He has ruined all chances of working things out between him and Katie and honestly, I can’t be fucking bothered to watch it crumble to the ground. And the worst part of it is he had the audacity to ask me to win this case. He doesn’t deserve to win let alone ask me. What a selfish, lying son of a bitch-”

“Harvey,” you placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him from walking away. He had been moving around animatedly, now up out of his seat and waving around. “Take a deep breath. Please.”

He did.

“Good,” You smiled softly.

He took another. And another. “Sorry… just- sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You came and stood in front of him, hands flat on his chest. “Let’s go and get you changed and we can keep talking through it. If you’d like.”

Though Harvey’s eyes were harsh, that anger wasn’t directed at you. You’ve dealt with him like this on more than one occasion, and you’ve learned to recognize the difference. He didn’t dare look at you the way he is now.

After taking his hand and leading him up stairs, you took your time undressing him so he could be more comfortable. Once upon a time he had told you that the feeling of your hands on him could make him forget anything and everything. It was only in your best interest to do that for him now. To calm him so he could see the full picture.

Starting with his tie, you walked to the closet and hung it up in the empty space from where you picked it out this morning. Much the same with the jacket, tossing his still crisp white-shirt in the laundry. He handed you his belt and shoes, and while you put them away, he took off his dress pants and put on sweats by the time you came back.

“Better?” You asked, placing his hands across your middle.

He smiled, “Better.”

Harvey was still sitting, but he rested his forehead against your stomach, just breathing. With calm hands you massaged his scalp and neck, his shoulders and arms. It was important to give Harvey his space at times like this, letting him speak when he wanted. Otherwise he’d just get defensive and shut down. That was not beneficial to either of you.

“I’m so fucking mad at Marcus, Yn.”

“I know, my love. I know,” You spoke softly, kissing the top of his head. “So am I.”

“I just don’t understand how he could do that after what mom did to me. I thought- I thought we were brothers again.”

His voice cracked, and you could feel the first tear drops soak through your shirt and cool your skin. Your stomach clenched and dropped. You know Harvey and Marcus have been rocky for decades, but since he forgave his mom and started rebuilding their relationship, things naturally got better with Marcus.

So much for all that hard work. And you had been so proud of him for taking those steps. And you knew the toll it took on him. Now it was all back at square one.

“I am so sorry, Harvey.”

“What the fuck do I do?”

You paused for a long while. “I don’t know.”

When he looked up at you, eyes all red and bleary, you wanted to fly to Boston and smack Marcus yourself for putting Harvey right back where he was when he was sixteen. He may not have been the one asked to keep a secret this time, but he knows what it’s like to be in that situation. To feel so pinned and powerless. The looming decision of whether he should betray his mom or dad, a constant threat, and either outcome will ruin the family.

“Are you up for listening to my ideas or do you still need to get things off your chest?” All you got was a shrug and a few spilled tears. “Okay, there’s no rush.”

“I just don’t know what to do, Yn. I have no fucking clue what I’m supposed to do. I want to beat him into the dirt the most. I want to hold Haley and tell her that none of this was ever her fault and she is not the one to blame. Goddamn do I want to hug Haley right now…”

You had to close your eyes. You didn’t want to see Harvey in this position, especially because you knew what this did to him. It stirred up all those memories and emotions from decades ago. Now they were all at the surface, controlling every one of his thoughts. And there isn’t a whole lot that you can do to get them to stop.

“I think you’re angry.”

“You’re goddamn right I’m angry,” Harvey huffed, making you let out a weak chuckle.

“And I also think that I know you when you’re angry. And that you don’t think clearly when you are. So, how about we distract you for a while and then we get some sleep. Then, maybe in the morning, we lay it all out again and go over what we know. Look at all the facts and whatnot. Because, despite your very much warranted anger towards Marcus, he is still your brother. And family means more than anything to you, Harvey. I can’t let you spend the next thirty years in regret for not trying. You owe that to yourself. Not anyone else.”

“I don’t even know where to start with all this bullshit.”

“That’s where I come in,” You smiled, sitting in his lap with one leg on each side of his. “Look Harvey, you have every single right to be upset. I am pissed at Marcus for doing that to Haley. But I will not let this drive another cavern between you and him. The two of you have been through enough. He fucked up, and he knows it because you’re Harvey goddamn Specter and you told him he did. But you forgave him once. And you forgave your mom. It is worth a shot to hear him out, and I’m not saying it has to be right away either. Just eventually.”

Harvey’s brown eyes darted around your face, that tight line still on his lips. When you tilted your head and batted your lashes, he sighed out, nodding. “Okay, okay fine you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” your smile made him finally unclench the space between his brows. “It’s because I’m really good at knowing who you are, and knowing how to approach a situation. You’re good at being a kick-ass lawyer and I’m good at taming that kick-ass lawyer.” “You love it when I let that animal out of the cage,” he smirked, hands stroking down your thighs.

“If you refer to yourself as an animal in a cage again I will walk out that door and spend the night at Donna’s.”

“Okay okay,” he grinned ear to ear, pressing kisses on your cheek, then down your neck. “I’m sorry for being so… hostile. Thank you, Yn. For calming me down.”

“You’re welcome, my love.”

“I don’t know what it is that you do, but you make it all disappear.”

“It’s my secret,” you whispered, kissing his lips. “And I won’t ever tell.”

“I bet I could make you tell me,” Harvey winked and grabbed around your waist, taking you with him when he leaned back.

“Oh, is that a fact?” “No, but it is a challenge.”

He tangled his hand in your hair, bringing your mouth to his. He tasted like whatever cheap whiskey he had on the plane and mint. You let your body form to his and didn’t mind the way his tongue found yours. Harvey’s hands were gentle as they peeled away the cardigan on your shoulders, tossing it away to be picked up later.

He took his time, slowly stripping you and easing you on your back. You wrapped your legs around his waist and needed to have his mouth on yours again. He was such a good kisser. So thorough and precise with what he wanted to do to you.

And he was always very thorough.

Harvey placed kisses down your chest, down your stomach and to each hip.

“Babe-”

“Shh,” he hushed. “Just let me do what I want. You just lay back and look pretty. Fuck do you look pretty, my love.”

Your heart melted. Normally he had a wicked, dirty tongue but tonight was obviously different. He wanted something to focus on, and if that was going to be you, then so be it. You surely weren’t going to stop him from spreading your knees and tucking his head to your core.

If Harvey could do one thing for the rest of his life, he’d sure have a hard time picking between you and the law. While he loved his work, your mind and body were two things even the high of winning couldn’t compare to. Harvey loved you. Ferociously. With every part of his body he loved you.

His tongue circled your clit, and your hand went in his hair to keep him there. The laugh that tumbled from him was nothing short of star-seeing. One thing about Harvey is if you weren’t satisfied and thensome, neither was he. He loved making you cum on his tongue, loved how you tasted.

It wasn’t long before you warned him you were close, and he just hummed into you, vibrations making you arch up off the bed, tugging equally as hard on his hair as you did the sheets beside you.

“I will never get sick of making you feel good, Yn. I love that I am the one who gets to spend these moments with you.”

“Harvey,” you swooned, cupping his face to bring him back up so you could kiss him. Your scent was strong on his lips and made you only need him that much more. All it took was a few impatient grabs at his shirt to make him take it off so you could finally get your hands on that body of his.

All that time in the boxing gym surely paid off.

Harvey brough your knee up and pushed it flat on the bed, pulling the other one around his hip. He pushed in, chest to chest with you as he sat still for a few moments.

“I love you so much, Yn,” Harvey whispered, thumb training down your cheek, your neck. He slid it all the way down your arm and laced your fingers together, kissing them as he pulled back. He wouldn’t leave your lips alone, not that you wanted that in the slightest. He was all soft words and pleas of desperation. Telling you how good you felt.

It was like your wedding night all over again. When the two of you met, it had been in a fury of hands and tongues. All fast because there wasn’t a second to waste when it finally happened. But on your big day, he laid you down, just like this, and worshiped you all night long.

Every word from his mouth was just him telling you how much you meant to him, his body seconding that omission. He was so dedicated to you, to making you feel good. It was all long, smooth strokes of his body inside yours, the warmth of your combined breaths. Swallowing each other's noises of pleasure.

“I am so in love with you,” Harvey smiled. “I am so fucking in love with you.”

You couldn’t hide your smile if you tried. It wasn’t rare that Harvey was affectionate– per say– but this was an illusive moment. He wine and dined you whenever you asked, you were always his plus one anywhere in the world. But it was these small, yet enormous moments of intimacy that you cherished the most. This was a side of Harvey that took a very long time to bring to the surface. And he too realized the weight of just taking his time and being soft with you.

“I love you too, Harvey,” you whispered against his face, his mouth now busy with the side of your neck. Harvey couldn’t keep his hips slow for long, and they snapped to yours. Air pushed out of your mouth and right into his ear, right where it drove him crazy to hear what he did to you.

“Fuck, my love, if you keep making those sounds this isn’t exactly going to be how I-”

“Now it’s my turn to take care of you,” you responded, locking your ankles together behind his back.

A shiver ran through his shoulders and he dropped to his elbows, hips driving into you faster and faster. Harder. It didn’t take him long to reach his high, fucking you through it. His heart pounded underneath his skin so hard you could feel it. A slight sweat at the back of his head where hair met skin.

When he lifted his head, his eyes looked less… weighted. He looked much more himself. Muc more like Harvey and a little less like Mr. Specter.

You mentally patted yourself on the back.

There wasn’t anything you could do to convince him to not drag you into the shower down the hall. The warmth of the water, the heaviness in your body only made his fingers on your scalp that much better. He kissed all over, giving your ass a loving smack when getting out before wrapping a big towel around the both of you.

“Promise in the morning that we can do this all again and then I can make you a big breakfast?”

“Only if you promise that there will be sausage and bacon,” your eyes were droopy, but the smile reached them anyway.

“Good thing Postmates will go to the grocery store nowadays,” Harvey slipped one of his shirts over your head, straightening it out over your body. “You look so adorable in my clothes.”

“I know, why do you think I wear them when you’re gone?” “You wear my clothes when I’m gone?” You pff’ed out some air, “Don’t act like you don’t notice the suspiciously large pile of your laundry in the hamper when you come back.”

“I don’t think you know how happy that makes me, Yn,” Harvey’s smile was nothing short of pure adoration. He was never short on pure adoration when it came to you.

“Yes I do,” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Why do you think I do it?”

“Because you know me. Really really well.”

“That I do.”

Harvey breathed out, shaking his head. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for something anyone would do for their husband.”

“Well, in my experience, most wives aren’t nearly as observant or as dedicated as you are, Yn. And I want you to know how much I appreciate you and everything you help me through when I don’t know how to help myself.”

Your eyes melted, much like your heart when he hugged you. Nice and tight and just how you liked them. You always felt impossibly safe with him, and his hugs were impossibly your favorite thing in the world.

Harvey would listen better in the morning. Especially after a good night's sleep. You just hope that all your efforts will lead him in the right direction. And that direction isn’t the clearest right now, and that’s okay. Both of you know it’s okay to not make a decision as big as something like this.

But you know Harvey will try. And that is all you can ask of him.

#harvey specter #harvey specter suits #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter smut #harvey specter fanfiction #suits smut #suits fanfiction #suits fanfic #suits tv #suits

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mykneeshurt · 1 year

Note

Hello may I please submit a request? Simon’s wife is a nice quiet woman in the streets but when her husband comes home she leashes out on him 😭😭 one day simons looking through all your dirty Polaroids he took one night and the boys catch him 😂

Baha I love this. I hope I did ok it’s only short!! This scenario screams Soap is a menace hahaahah. Not proof read. Also guys don’t look at others peoples SOs photos lmao this is purely fiction 😂

Mrs Simon Riley. A good quiet woman, a nurse, caring and understanding. She and Simon had met after a terrorist attack in London. Working in A&E the victims of the attack were brought there, she was busy dressing wounds, hanging IV lines and giving pain medication. That was until Task Force 141 burst through the doors carrying a half conscious Simon Riley.

Her manager assigned her to take care of him, blood loss from a stab wound. He was rushed into surgery to cauterise the blood vessel and stitch up the open skin. Their relationship was rocky at first, she felt uneasy he was rushed in above everyone else. The skull mask made her feel nervous, but his gentle grasp at her wrist alleviated some of this.

They began talking more and more during her shifts, he eagerly awaited her arrival every time. After he was discharged they remained in contact and the rest is history.

Four years later and Ghost is sat in his room at the barracks, missing his wife immensely. All the boys had met her, she often invited them round for dinner. They loved her, she was funny, kind and certainly kept Ghost in his place. But what they didn’t know was that she was a fiend in the bedroom. She certainly gave Ghost a run for his money.

Knowing he was going to be away for months she surprised him before he left. A small envelope filled with Polaroids of her, in deep purple underwear, stockings, and black patent stilettos. Others she was completely naked, angling the camera down her body two fingers teasing the edge of her cunt.

Oh he liked this surprise. On base he kept them on his person, no one else was gonna be privy to this. When he left base he kept them in a tin lock box he hid in a vent in his room. Just looking at her body in those photos drove him wild, all he wanted to do was to touch her. To feel her beneath him.

Lost in his memories of her he didn’t hear the first knock at the door. The second made him jump ‘Ghost! You in there buddy?’ Soaps thick accent pierced the door. Scrambling he tried to shove the pictures back in the box making one hell of a racket. ‘Comin Soap!’

Opening the door he was panting slightly. ‘Alright Lt?’ Soap asked confused. Nodding he hurried him out of the room but not before Soap noticed a picture on the floor. ‘What’s that on the floor Lt?’ His eyes widened in fear, he couldn’t let your pictures be seen by them. ‘Nothin that concerns you Johnny’ he warned.

Gaz rounded the corner and saw the look in Ghosts eyes, ‘Soap what you done now?’ He laughed. ‘Lt is hiding something from us me thinks.’ Gaz burst out laughing.

‘Leave him alone Soap, come in before Price has our arses.’ Soap backed off, surrendering.

As Ghost dropped his guard to close the door Soap burst through and dived for the photo. ‘STEAMIN JESUS LT!’ He shrieked laughing, ‘hidin’ this beauty from us I see.’ Gaz over come with curiosity fought off Ghost and joined Soap on the floor. ‘Fuck sir. She’s stunning’ he laughed. Luckily it was a photo of her in her lingerie, her breasts pushed together, her red lips smirking. ‘Gimme that if you know what’s good for you’ Ghost boomed.

Gaz and Soap exchanged a glance at each other like naughty school boys. ‘One more peep Lt?’ Soap laughed.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod mw22 #ghost x reader #fan fic smut #smut #john soap mactavish #soap mctavish #soap mctavish x reader #gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick #simon riley x reader #cod ghost

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 2 months

Text

the baftas: my eyes need bleach after the livestream chat.

I SAID I WOULD COME TO TUMBLR AND SLUT-SHAME ALL OF YOU, AND YOU BET YOUR GODDAMN BILDADDY I'M HERE TO DO IT. First, a huge thank you to @good-usernames-were-taken, Valerie, for enabling this entire chaos and streaming it. And of course to Disappointment the Main Maggot.

Second, as per requests from you maggots, I have to give an honourary mention to the tragic lack of an emotional support gaseous orange, the late half-eaten packet of Lays on my desk, and my nearly empty can of Monster energy. Idk either, you asked for the mentions you got them.

Without further ado, presenting the BAFTA Awards 2024:

I am busy drawing out the neckline stitches of Crowley's wedding dress, when I am reminded of the stream and I crash into it midway. Little do I know what I am getting into.

Everyone is here for David Tennant. No one is here for the actual awards. This is made very clear very quickly.

KNEES. JUST KNEES. ALL EVERYONE TALKS ABOUT, THROUGHOUT THE STREAM, IS DAVID TENNANT'S KNEES. ARE YOU ALL OKAY WHAT THE FRESH HELL.

For context, David is in a kilt for the first half. I finally see why my relatives disapprove of skirts above knee-length. I never knew humanity's unholy worship of knees till I came here.

SOMEONE ASKS IF DAVID HAS TANNED HIS KNEES. MAGGOTS. PLEASE.

We interrupt our regular scheduled program of David knees to have an intense discussion about British versus French humour, and the misgendering of croissants.

RDJ wins an award and calls his wife his Alpha and Omega.

We're back to the knees. I can't handle how slutty David's knees are, says a worthy maggot.

This goes into a discussion about tickets for David's Macbeth, because, you guessed it, the kilt and the knees.

A lot of gorgeous and talented women in the BAFTAs tonight. I am floored.

I am not allowed to dwell in my awe because the chat is not a place of the lord. Curtain calls of Macbeth are discussed with unnecessary lasciviousness.

Thankfully, in the midst of this, I get a great Zodiac pattern reference for Crowley's wedding dress cummerbund. I was going to have to research the night sky for star charts but this is better.

People show their beautiful brainrot-induced Doc Marten purchases.

The knee thirst has moved into X-rated territory. I am terrified.

A song is sung in memory of film industry people who passed away this year, and people are sad about Dumbledore but at the same time are imagining Aziraphale and Crowley dancing to the song. The brainrot is real.

I accidentally spoil Saltburn's freakshow for someone. When I ask how I can make up for it, they say something about GOAD. I'm alarmed. Is that an OnlyFans, I ask. It's Good Omens After Dark, the chat answers. Is THAT an OnlyFans, I ask. Close enough, the chat says.

David has now changed outfits to a suit, which finally makes people pay attention to the BAFTAs, if only to alternatively thirst over the suit and bemoan the loss of knees.

Things, uh, happen, which I will have to include as quotes in another post. Cheers, @thearoacemess and @vitrilol.

Barty Crouch Jr is debated about as the Wolfstar child. Bratty Crouch Jr is said to be Crowley.

I obtain a banana, which I associate with blowjobs.

@thearoacemess talks about someone deepthroating a seven-inch banana without a hitch.

The stream does a flashback to the kilt time. It is a mistake. @queermarzipan barrels in and is being too slutty about the knees.

I tell them they need jesus, and they yell about how they've gone to mass twice today and they're an atheist.

Thankfully, @vitrilol starts chanting about the glory of Ireland. The only thing that will distract Marzipan from David Tennant is Ireland.

He proceeds to start screech-singing in all caps.

🎵IRELAND IIIRELAND TOGETHER STANDING TALLLL.🎵

The BAFTAs end. People are still thirsting over David Tennant.

🎵I KNOW YOU'RE MISSING HOME IT'S SO LONG SINCE YOU'VE BEEN🎵

Uh, more dubious things about David, suits and the absence of said suits are discussed. I'm trying my damndest not to notice.

🎵AND THE LIFE YOU HAD IN DUBLIN NOW AIN'T NOTHIN BUT A DREAM🎵

There is accidental Mascot lore: I am apparently from a different timeline (I mixed up timeline and timezone) and that's how Apollo deposited me in an illegal sushi restaurant where I became Neil Gaiman and Michael Sheen's intellectual child.

I am compared to a cat.

TOM HIDDLESTON AND DAVID TENNANT WERE IN THE STAGED-LIKE THING IN THE BEGINNING AHAHAHAHAH LOKI AND CROWLEY MY TWO CELESTIAL GENDERFLUID ICONS.

OKAY so I will end the summary here and make a list of out of context quotes in a new post. Because. Boy oh boy. That deserves its own post.

#good omens mascot #weirdly specific but ok #asmi #david tennant #bafta 2024 #good omens #maggots #good omens fandom #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #michael sheen #bafta awards #bafta #bafta livestream #tom hiddleston #loki #ireland #macbeth

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queen-of-reptiles · 5 months

Text

𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙶𝙾

description: In reader's last game of her career, her wife and team make sure she understands how loved she really is

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vicky losada x female reader

disclaimer: I am in now way saying vicky is bi-sexual or lesbian, this is all fiction

warnings: language, bad google translations as per usual!

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y/n just posted

liked by losada_vicky, lucybronze and 298, 374 others

y/n spooky season... 👻

view all 11, 238 comments

username1: she is so pretty kill me now! 🙀🙀

username2: HOW CAN YOU LOOK LIKE THAT 😳😳

username3: love love love it!

losada_vicky: Jesus, I am a lucky woman... 🤯

y/n: proud to wear Losada on my back baby ! 🩷

username4: UGHHHHHH

username5: PLEASE MA'AM 🔥🔥

username6: Break me like a glowstick I beg

y/n: ya'll need to touch grass oml 🤨

username6: OMG OMG ❤️❤️

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Twitter/X

username1: I don't know if I can take it today - I cannot believe it 😭😭

username2: I am going to miss her so much.

username3: She is only 33, why do you think she is retiring? 😶

username4: She was really badly injured during her second world cup, her ACL tore, cracked two ribs and gave herself a dent in her skull, so...

username3: well, then that makes sense...

username5: I am so used to seeing her, I am going to miss her so much! 😭❤️

username6: I AM GOING TO CRY THEIR FUCKING STORIES GOD NO ❤️

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When the whistle blew, y/n couldn't believe it, the air was pulled from her lungs and as her teamed cheered in relief from the win, a tear dropped down her cheek at the idea of leaving for real this time.

Her wife wrapped an arm around her and the team swarmed her soon enough, a lot of people crying as they enjoyed a last group hug with their captain of four years.

As they pulled away, y/n looked out at the crowd who were screaming, cheering, waving Brighton Flags for her, and she laughed tearfully and waved out at them in thanks.

"Right." Vicky's voice echoes a microphone held in her hand.

"My wife has given a lot of her life to Brighton, and she honestly loves everything about this club, the players, the staff and especially the fans. I love this club because of her." Vicky says.

The crowd aww's at that, and y/n smiles sadly as she watches her wife who was looking around, proudly talking about the one she called her own.

"She may be retiring, but y/n Losada will be remembered for years as the best Brighton, fan, player and Captain because she has changed so many lives in the course of her own." Vicky finishes.

The crowd erupts at that, cheers showing such agreement to Vicky's speech that the captain covered hr face and took a deep breath, trying to stop from bursting into tears.

A microphone was somehow passed to her, and y/n shook her head, but the chants of 'speech speech speech' were telling her she was over-ruled.

"Um, wow, where to start?" She asks. "First of all, I came through the Brighton academy and played on a senior pitch at the age of 16. I am now 33, and after a brief few years at Barcelona, am honoured to have done my final game here." y/n begins, the crowd cheering for her.

"I am so grateful to every fantastic person on this team, in this club and in this crowd. Because you have made my job the easiest thing in the world." y/n smiles, her wife chuckling and wiping a tear.

"My wife is crying, though I wish she wouldn't because we both know, if I play any longer, I will be sewn back together with how many injuries I have got." y/n laughs, her hand coming up to cup her wife's face lovingly.

"I won't say much more, but thank you for your support, thank you for your love, you will all always have mine. Thank you Brighton and Thank you football. See you around!" y/n finishes and the crowd bursts into cheers.

Two loud bangs happen and y/n jumps before laughing in shock at the fireworks that had been set off from the stadium, the officials giving her a proper goodbye as people cheered.

"y/n! y/n! y/n! y/n! y/n!!" The crowd cheered, repeating her name over and over while the Brighton team piled on her one last time. y/n knew she'd enjoy being a wag, but she would miss football.

Vicky wrapped an arm around her, pressing her lips to her lover's temple as the woman sighed and relaxed in her hold, finding comfort in her wife's warmth.

"I know my love, I know." Vicky promises.

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y/n just posted

liked by, losada_vicky, brightonfc and 429, 736 others

y/n

Words cannot express the pain I have saying goodbye, football has given me a family, several teams, a wife and so much love.

I may be hurting, but I heard you all and I am so thankful for you, and the happiness you gave me tonight and always shall never be matched!

Thank you all so much, I have had such a fantastic time in this career. I will see you all soon, when I am fulfilling my WAG duties!

All my love

y/n Losada xx

comments disabled.

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losada_vicky just posted

liked by y/n, alexiaputellas and 392, 921 others

tagged y/n

losada_vicky There may have been several reasons my wife took a step back from football. We cannot wait to meet this reason. ❤️

view 11, 376 comments

username1: OMG OMG AHHHHHHH 😱😱

alexiaputellas: congratulations you two! Cannot wait! I will be favourite Tia!

marialeonn16: No I Will Be!

onabatlle: honestly I think I will be ☺️

y/n: @losada_vicky baby, I am just realising how many aunts this child is going to have. 😂

lucybronze: They're all idiots I will be the favourite aunt! 😌😌

username2: English and Spanish national teams as aunts, jesus some people just live the life I dream!

username3: This baby is going to be so loved holy shit

username4: And the entire Brighton team as well!

leahwilliamsonn: HOLY SHIT AHHHHH ❤️❤️

_bethmead: SO EXCITEDDDDD ! ❤️❤️

keirawalsh: so proud and excited !!! 💙☺️

username5: :( I miss her playing already 😭

y/n: Can't express how much I love you, I am so excited! Serás una mamá fantástica.

you will be a fantastic mama

losada_vicky: I love you and our baby so much

username6: I am not crying you are.

ellatoone: I AM CRYING OMG 🩷

alessiarusso99: HONESTLY SAME 🩷

mbrighty04: SAME

racheldaly3: SAME

khiara.k98: SAME

lj10: same

y/n: I love you all so much xoxo

lucybronze: @lj10 you ruined the 'SAME' chain there mate with your lazy lowercase

lj10: 🖕🏾🖕🏾

lucybronze: 😚😚

see more comments...

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END

flufffffffff

kinda love this, kinda don't

meh

Queenie xx

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prettyboyeddiemunson · 2 years

Note

HEAR ME OUT pornstar Eddie and Steve caging you in between them one using your throat while the other fucks your pretty pussy. Imagine Steve telling you to take it while he slams his thick cock in and out of you only to fill you with his load so Eddie can just slip right in afterwards. Them making you a shaky quivering mess because they fucked you so good. Them making you into their personal cock sleeve. But porn star Steve would definitely love doing a free use house wife video with you saying he’s gonna breed your pretty pussy and fuck a baby into you and then perv Eddie walks in 😩🤚😜

JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH THIS IS FUCKING HOT. also, just wanna make a quick note that this has brief anal sex toward the end and, of course, breeding kink is included. if that’s not your thing, don’t read!! ❤️

how about the beginning of the concept is bled into the end? like they do all of that in a breeding kink film, where you’re steve’s sexy wife and eddie is the perv who has been watching you guys have sex for months now? standing outside your windows, beating his dick as he watches the two of you, maybe even filming it for later. in the film, it picks up on a scene where you’re making brownies in the kitchen wearing nothing but a tiny apron. steve walks in as eddie hides outside of the kitchen window; the camera shows him, but you & steve don’t see him yet. you’ll know of his presence soon enough, but right now, it’s just the two of you in the main shot.

“mmm, something smells good in here,” steve says, walking in and kissing your neck from behind. his hands run over the front of the apron, squeezing your tits as he groans against your neck. “and i guess the brownies are pretty nice, too.”

you giggle, turning in his arms to give him a hungry kiss. “they’re almost done. i’m going to pull them out here in a second, actually.”

“speaking of pulling out,” steve says, rubbing himself against your thigh with a moan as he cups your cheek in his hand. “there’s something i wanna talk to you about.”

“what is it?” you question, the camera panning out a little as you bend over to get the brownies from the oven. steve is behind you once you get them out, pushing you against the counter as he rubs his clothed, semi-hard cock against your bare ass. “mmm…”

“i wanna fuck a baby into that pretty pussy of yours,” he breathes, his lips leaving hungry kisses along your shoulderblades as eddie observes from outside. “we’ve been trying for so long, but i think today is just the right day. i wanna see my cum dripping out of you, knowing that i bred you and filled you up so much that there’s no way it won’t take.”

“i do love it when you pump me full,” you reply, grinding back against his dick with a soft moan. “gotta get your dick a lot harder than that, though.”

“i don’t think that will be a problem,” he says with a smirk, spinning you around and kissing you hard.

the make out session is filthy, with saliva dribbling over each other’s lips, and tongues meeting before lips do. his hands are all over your tits, the apron coming off as he hoists you onto he kitchen counter. he spends some time sucking on your nipples as you moan heatedly, one hand in his hair as he runs his fingers through your slick pussy. eddie is palming himself on the other side of the window, watching as steve drops to his knees to devour your cunt. your legs are thrown over his shoulders, his mouth working in the dirtiest, messiest way possible. the sounds of cunnilingus are fucking vulgar, with steve moaning loudly & hotly against your sopping folds as he ate you out. he spits on your pussy at one point, giving it a soft slap before fucking you on his tongue, all while you made overly exaggerated noises above.

“i can’t wait to be inside of you,” steve pants, rubbing hard, firm circles on your clit as you give his hair a tug. “you’re so wet. i wanna feel you hugging my dick, squeezing me of every single drop so that you’re bred like a little bitch in heat.”

eddie is beating off now, but his hand just isn’t enough for him. the camera shows him tucking his dick back into his pants after a moment, and walking to the front door to find it unlocked. he’s grinning and, not caring that it may not be a good idea, goes into the house. he can hear your moans from the kitchen, and the downright disgusting things you’re now saying as steve eats your pussy like it’s his last goddamn meal. eddie realizes that he can just walk out now if he wants to; he could turn heel, resume spying from the window, and get himself off in secret like he did every night as he looked into your bedroom.

but this is p**n, so of course he isn’t going to change his mind and leave. instead, eddie walks calmly into the kitchen as steve is four fingers deep in your pussy, his mouth drooling all over your clit as he sucks on it feverishly. you scream at the sight of eddie, and steve is on his feet in a flash. after some back & forth, in which eddie admits what he’s been doing outside their house every night, you & steve allow him to join. eddie kneels in front of your cunt with steve, and they both eat you out at the same time. steve fucks you on his tongue and eddie plays with your clit, his tongue piercing swirling it rapidly as he gazes up at you through dark bangs & pretty eyelashes. your moans are so fucking hot at this point, and they’re both painfully hard from that alone; the sweet taste of your pussy is a good aid, but hearing those sounds you’re making are what’s doing it the most. the camera is getting everything, but the three of you are so absorbed in what’s going on that you don’t even notice it’s there anymore.

“she tastes so much better than i always pictured,” eddie says, plunging two fingers into your ass after using some of your natural juices to lubricate his fingers. you scream, clenching around his digits as he goes knuckle deep. “you’re a lucky fucking dude, i’ll tell you that.”

“i am, aren’t i?” steve says proudly, watching eddie’s fingers as they thrust into your ass. “she’s taking those like a champ, though, isn’t she?”

“don’t think she’ll be able to handle my dick in this sweet, tight little cunt, though,” eddie says, dragging his tongue over the left side of your pussy. “i’m fucking massive.”

“god, i want it inside of me,” you whine, bucking toward them as they keep working your cunt. eddie’s fingers slam into your ass, pumping rapidly and scissoring as steve laps up your dripping juices. “want you to breed me with that fucking thing.”

“mmm,” eddie hums. “i heard you having a discussion with your husband about that. i don’t suppose it would hurt both of us to breed you, would it?”

“it might actually help our chances even more,” steve chimes in, grabbing eddie by his hair and kissing him messily. they swap your cum between their tongues, eddie still fingering your pussy as two of steve’s fingers plunge inside of your cunt. you watch them making out with a whimper, eddie’s piercing flicking against steve’s visible tongue as steve reaches down to palm eddie’s dick through his pants. he pulls away from eddie, forcing him to his feet before pushing him to join you on the counter. “i’m going to breed her first. i’m her husband, so i think that’s fair.”

“sure,” eddie says, looking at you as he licks his lips. “i want you to suck my huge cock, baby. i’ve fantasized about that for so fucking long, imagining that i was your husband on those nights when I watched you. christ, it got me so fucking worked up; i came harder than i ever have in my life from that shit.”

“be a good girl and blow him while i breed you,” steve demands, grabbing you and bending you over before taking his pants off. his thick cock comes into view, and he slaps it against your ass as eddie groans at the sight. “like what you see, you perv?”

“oh, i do,” eddie replies, dragging his fingers through your wet folds before humming thoughtfully. “between her hot little pussy and your perfect cock, i’m not sure which has made me harder.”

“i’d say it could be a tie,” steve says, shoving his full length inside of you as you cry out exaggeratedly. “fuck, baby. your pussy is so goddamn tight, and so. fucking. good.”

he doesn’t thrust yet, waiting for eddie to assume his own position. he steps in front of you, pulling down his own pants to reveal a truly massive cock. you & steve both moan filthily at the sight, his flushed head & frenum piercing catching your eye almost immediately. you don’t have time to make a remark before eddie is pushing all nine inches down your throat, causing you to gag and swallow repeatedly on instinct. drool runs out of your mouth and onto the floor, and your eyes begin to water immediately as you try to keep your gag reflex under control. you peer at eddie, makeup already starting to run down your face as he pushes your hair back from your eyes. your throat has never felt more full, and his hands are now tearing at your hair as he keeps forcing you to look up at him.

“fucking jesus christ,” eddie breathes, looking up at steve with a smirk. “look at her, man. she’s got every inch down that slutty little throat, just like i always thought she could fucking do.”

“that’s the hottest thing i’ve ever seen,” steve says. “i’m a little jealous, truth be told; i wish i was sucking you off right now instead.”

“i’m a little jealous of you, too,” eddie says, holding your head down on his dick as you gag again. “I can’t wait to be balls-deep in that messy pussy of hers.”

steve winked, and began to fuck into you at a rough pace. eddie fucked your mouth in rhythm with steve’s movements, and the camera was capturing everything. you were moaning loudly around eddie’s big dick, your own drool making a mess as he slammed himself down your throat. steve was pounding into your sweet spot, your juices turning thicker & milkier as he the sounds of sex filled the room. the slapping skin, the sounds of you blowing eddie, everyone’s moans, and the absolutely wild sounds of steve drilling your cunt were picking up nicely on camera, and all of it aided in your own arousal. eddie wasn’t taking his eyes off if you, and at one point, he put one your hands on your tits so that you could play with them. he held you by your hair, and steve held you up by your waist, both of them watching as you tugged & pinched your nipples between your fingers.

steve then grabbed the back of eddie’s neck as they drilled into your holes, bringing him in for a hot, sloppy kiss. they moan against each other’s mouths, and you’re groaning around eddie’s length, feeling his piercing scraping your throat with every hard, fast thrust. he’s throbbing against your tongue and the walls of your throat, and you can taste precum as he brings himself out almost completely before shoving himself in again. you gag loudly, more spit dribbling out of your mouth as he fucks into your mouth. he & steve are still making out, and steve toys with eddie’s tongue piercing as eddie pinches one of steve’s nipples in his fingers. the camera gets it all, alternating between the fuck shot, the blowjob shot, and a shot of steve & eddie pawing at each other as they kiss above you.

“goddamn, she’s a fucking mess,” eddie breathes as he pulls away from steve, roughly thrusting into your throat as he groans. “better hurry up and shoot one off inside of her; dunno if i’m gonna be able to hold out much longer, if you want me to breed her, too.”

“how does it feel?” steve asks, moaning as he feels himself twitching against your walls. “knowing that the two of us are gonna fuck our loads into you, breeding that pretty pussy of yours? just like the little pathetic whore that you truly are, underneath it all. bet you knew if he was outside watching this whole time, you would have gotten off even harder. i want you to take it all right now; every fucking thing that you’re getting.”

“i know she would have,” eddie puts in. “i mean, look at how wet & horny she is right now, taking two cocks at the same time.”

steve slams into you a few more times, and then he’s cumming inside of you as deeply as he can. some of his cum spills out when he withdraws, and he admires it with a whistle as eddie pulls out of your mouth. a lot of spit comes with it, falling to the floor in thick strings and sticking to your skin in some places, your entire body a mess as they both study the creampie steve left. eddie starts eating you out, lapping up some of your cum & steve’s, before lying back on the table and pulling you with him. you straddle eddie before sinking onto his dick, crying out as his thickness deliciously stretches your leaking cunt. his cock shoves some of steve’s hot load even deeper inside of you, and makes the most obscene squelching sound you had ever heard as he seats fully. you start to move your hips as eddie gropes your breasts, with steve coming up behind you to kiss your neck. his hands join eddie’s on your breasts, both men moaning the wet sounds of eddie’s dick inside of your sloppy cunt fill the room.

“how about you let your husband in that tight ass of yours, hm?” eddie asks, bucking up to meet your movements as you bounce effortlessly & skillfully on his throbbing erection, your head thrown back in more overdone moans. “you’re probably still stretched out from my fingers earlier.”

“mmm, she is,” steve says as he runs his fingers over your hole, and you whine at the contact.

you shift a bit so that steve could easily access your ass, moaning your hottest yet as he pushes himself inside of you. now both of your lower holes are filled with dick, and you can’t stop moving as you desperately attempt to chase your release. eddie’s fingers plunge into your mouth and steve’s soon join, both of them groaning as steve rails your ass and you keep moving as best as you can along eddie’s dick. eddie is thrusting upward to help, but he’s smirking as he studies your desperation & neediness.

“look at her,” he says, pushing his fingers down your throat. “all of her holes are full, and she still wants more.”

“you should have known by now how much of a greedy cock slut she is,” steve pants, his free hand squeezing one of your breasts as eddie’s rubs your clit. “cum all over his big cock, baby. let him fuck a nice load into you, just like i did before.”

you whimper, slamming repeatedly onto eddie’s cock in time with steve’s thrusts into your ass. your cum & steve’s dribbles down eddie’s shaft, and the camera captures it nicely. between everything that was happening to you, your orgasm didn’t take long to approach, and you came with a series of loud, filthy, exaggerated moans. eddie’s fingers left your mouth to settle on your hips, keeping you on his dick as he watched your wetness making a mess between the two of you. you clench around him, your head spinning with euphoria as they continue to use you like a fuck doll, lashes fluttering as eddie’s hands squeeze your skin.

“what a messy little girl,” eddie muses, gathering some of your juices on his fingers before shoving them into your mouth again. his eyes fall to your lower belly, where he’s still bucking up as steve rams into your ass. “look over your shoulder, big boy. you can see the tip of my dick in her lower stomach.”

steve does as he’s told, moaning at the sight of it. “you’re gonna be the one to knock her up over me, at that rate. how would that make you feel? a lame perv like you, who got off on watching us fuck, being the father of her child? seeing her belly getting bigger and bigger, knowing that long cock if yours is to blame.”

“mmm,” eddie groans, twitching inside of you at the mention. “i’d be jerking off all the goddamn time over that stomach. maybe cover it in cum and make you clean it off of her with your mouth. speaking of…pull out and stand over here.”

steve does so, and eddie holds your mouth open as he brings you down so that you’re as level to steve’s cock as possible. eddie begins to jerk steve off, allowing you to bounce on his dick at your own quick pace. your ass feels empty now, clenching around nothing as you moan wildly. eddie’s free hand slaps your clit & mound as hard as possible, the wet thwack! echoing off the kitchen walls. you groan filthily, impaling yourself on that thick cock as eddie continues to beat steve off.

steve cums first again, all over your face and some in your mouth. then you follow suit for the second time, squirting twice around eddie as you drenched his balls, dick, and the table below. and then it was eddie’s turn, and he came so hard inside of you that you could feel him everywhere within your pussy. he was shooting off all over your cervix, all over your slick walls, and it was running out of you like a sieve as he lifted you off of his hips.

“she’s keeping most of it in there,” eddie says to steve, jamming one of his fingers inside of you before guiding steve to do the same. “but we should get something to plug her up, just to make sure no more runs out. gotta make sure enough stays in to fucking knock her up.”

“actually,” steve says, studying your shaking body from how fucked out you truly were, “i think we should go for another round with her. maybe this time, we should both go into her pussy together, to ensure that she keeps it all.”

and the film ends with that mental image burned into everyone’s minds.

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #breeding /

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kiwisbell · 7 months

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Larks and Katydids [dave york]

There's something sweet about you that keeps him coming back to this little diner. You do not know the dark corners of the world he lives in. But you will.

my masterlist!

pairing: dave york x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings: dom/sub dynamic, age gap (20s/40s), blood, violence, murder, soft!dave, dom!dave, stalker!dave, but in a cute way, it's for your own good, obsession, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected sex (wrapping before tapping etc.), brief orgasm denial, submissive reader, dave is a bamf, protective!dave, possessive!dave, dave is nice but only to you, shirley jackson references, fingering, creampie, daddy kink, sweet girl being a dave york staple, kidnapping, implied innocence kink

word count: ~ 14.7k

a/n: y'know what.. now that i'm looking back it.. this fic kinda gives red light and now i'm wondering if i might need some serious introspection for writing shit like this. anyway ☠️ some of you know may already be aware that my earlier fics were inspired by hozier songs. this one was somewhat of an ode to nfwmb, but that may just be because i listened to it non-stop while writing. anyway, if you haven't already read this one-shot, please enjoy!! xoxo

LARKS AND KATYDIDS

His eyes keep drifting toward the sweet, pretty thing behind the counter.

Dave has instincts. Good ones. For one, he knows that the idiot sitting across from him is not the type of client he wants to make a deal with. Senator Isaiah Berkeley may have the means and motive to kill his cheating wife, but Dave’s instincts prickle up the back of his neck. Berkeley is flighty, nervous, visibly sweating at the brow. He’ll be a liability. Some men are not built for the jagged edges of this life. The man still wears his wedding ring, for fuck’s sake. He’d regret hiring Dave the second he found his wife’s body after a fall down the stairs.

Dave never doubts his instincts. Now, they sink their claws into his eyes until he cannot help but flick them toward your pretty face. Jesus, you’re pretty. This diner is a hole in the wall, a red-and-white and black-checkered-floor retro nightmare that smells vaguely of syrup, and he’s surprised the staff aren’t wearing fucking rollerskates to deliver the food. But the coffee is good, and the food is real, and there’s not another soul here. Except for you.

He likes the simple black shirt and skirt you wear, and he likes the way you roll up your apron to make it fit the curves of your body. He likes the shape of your mouth, the gentle touch to your eyes, the way you beamed at him when they entered the diner. Best seat in the house, you said when you sat them in the corner. Dave tasted honey when he tried your name out loud and took his order: two coffees, black. You smiled, like you could have guessed, and said, Be right up. You don’t carry a notepad. It makes him like you more: you’re clever. You remember things.

You’re standing behind the counter and reading a book, your chin in your palm, and he’s fascinated by the speed of your eyes across the pages. He understands why you’re so quick when a gruff male voice erupts from the kitchen, calling a name that must be yours. “Get back to work,” he snaps.

You scramble to hold your place in the book and scurry around the counter to check up on your only two customers. As if you hadn’t been so good, so attentive. You’re good. He knows it. You should be treated like it. Dave’s fingers twitch, like he can swipe at the faint frown that furrows your brow. Fuck, you’re adorable, even flustered, especially flustered.

“How you folks doing?” you ask, that sweet smile a poison that festers in his blood. “Sure I can’t get you anything else?”

“No,” says Berkeley shortly, not meeting your eye. Could he be any more conspicuous?

Dave, rubbing his fingertips over his bottom lip, doesn’t want to leave it at that. “What are you reading?” he asks.

You blink as if you’ve never heard the question before, but you don’t ask him to repeat himself. He likes that, too. “Oh,” you say, and it sounds like a trembling sigh of excitement. Dave feels himself swell up a little with pride. “It’s called We Have Always Lived in the Castle.”

He hums. “Jackson.”

He likes being the one who dropped that sparkle into your eyes. “You like her?”

“I know her,” he says. Across from him, Berkeley’s fingers are white-knuckling the handle of his coffee mug. He’s staring into the dregs like he expects them to tell him his fortune. “Don’t have a lot of time for reading nowadays. Do you like it?”

You nod eagerly, and he doesn’t think he’s imagining the way you lean toward him slightly, as if frantic to answer his question. “I’m reading it for a literature course I’m taking. I think she’s one of my favourites now. But I really shouldn’t have my nose in a book at work.”

Oh. You’re young. You’re young, still in college, and you’re goddamn smart. The interest stirring in his pants mirrors that in his head.

“Our secret,” says Dave. “I’ll have more coffee, please, honey.”

He certainly does not imagine the way you bite your lip to suppress your grin and hurry off for the coffee pot, a little mouse. You like to please. He doesn’t need more coffee; he and Berkeley are almost done, whether he knows it or not.

“I can’t take your contract, Senator,” says Dave, still watching your perky ass as you walk away. “You’ll have to find somebody else.”

Berkeley’s mouth opens in preparation for what Dave presumes will be a flurry of feeble threats and reassurances that I can pay you well, but Dave slips out of the booth and walks away—not before slapping down a couple bills that will cover the cost of their coffees.

He should go back into town, sleep, and get Kovac to reach out to some more potential clients. But he wants to linger for a bit, hang around, see why his instincts are pushing him toward you, you pretty young thing with a smile that dims all other light. You’re on your way back to their table, holding the coffee pot, and nearly bump into him in your rush. “Oh!”

Dave steadies you with a firm grip around your elbow and doesn’t let go. Your skin is soft, prickled with goosebumps.

You bow your head in instant submission, instant apology, and he tilts his head to the side. He makes you nervous. “Could’ve hurt yourself,” he says softly.

“I’m sorry. Guess I was excited.” Your eyes flicker up toward him, and he forces them to stay there when he lifts your chin with his finger.

“Exceptional customer service,” says Dave. Your laugh is breathless. “I was just leaving. Don’t worry about that second cup, sweetheart.” He drops his hand only to dig out a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and place it in your palm. “Wrong Jackson, I know.”

Your eyes widen at it. “This is way more than your coffee.”

Dave lifts his brow. “You want me to put it in your pocket myself?”

You slowly pocket the bill. “Thank you,” you tell him. It’s strong and clear, and he likes the way it sounds coming from your mouth.

“I was in college once,” he says good-naturedly. “In ancient times. I know the costs.”

Your laugh, your real laugh, is the chimes of dawn. You’re so bright. You’re the sun slowly painting the sky orange as it rises. “I’ll be done in a few months.”

“Yeah?” Dave frowns. “What’ll you do after?”

You shrug one shoulder. Your other arm is still burdened with holding up the coffee pot. “Hopefully, get as far away from here as I can.”

“Your parents suffocating you?” He’s good at digging, at unearthing treasures with only words; he shouldn’t have to be, in this line of work, but he likes to know things. Likes the control that comes with being prepared for anything, everything.

“They’re dead,” you tell him. It’s plain, colourless, and Dave’s curiosity deepens. “I live with my uncle.”

There it is.

Everybody has a trigger. People are like guns. They are predictable, but if you handle them wrong, they’ll jam. He catches the way your eyes shutter at the mention of your uncle, the way your shoulders round slightly, even though that brilliant smile is still on your face. Dave doesn’t like it.

“Does he treat you good?”

Your slow blink is trancelike. “He’s family,” you say simply, and Dave knows that’s the answer you give every time the man doesn’t treat you so good.

He grinds his teeth a little bit, an old habit from his smoking days. “Well, I hope you get the hell out of dodge,” he says.

“Please come again,” you say. “God knows I’ll still be here.”

Oh, he’ll come again. In fact, he decides, he may not even leave.

Dave follows you home.

It’s a short drive once you pull your beat-up Cooper off the highway and enter a little courtyard surrounded by dilapidated apartments. He knows the area. And he knows it’s not safe. Dave turns off his headlights and idles in the hazard zone, watching as you exit your car and rush to the front door with your purse clutched to your chest. He shakes his head, clicks his tongue to himself. Scared little bird, too pretty to live in a place like this.

He waits a little longer. Eventually, he sees you—he knows it’s you, even five storeys up, from the length of your hair and the way it moves—shuck the curtains open. It’s a small window of orange glowing light in the darkness, but he can see you. A man—your uncle—approaches the window, too, lifting the pane and blowing a cloud of smoke outside. Dave rolls down his window and strains his ear. It’s useless; he can’t hear a thing. And yet, he waits.

He doesn’t know what he waits for. Maybe he’s expecting him to hit you, to lash out, to do something. Something that would let Dave scratch the itch in his knuckles. Instead, he’s only waiting, until your uncle tosses his cigarette out the window and latches it shut. He is evicted from your world for tonight. But he will not go quietly.

It begins with a phone call. Ari. Need you to track someone down for me.

Your uncle’s name is Jason. He doesn’t share your last name, having been a half-brother to your father, but it’s him. Felony charges: breaking and entering, assault, possession. Run-of-the-mill, except it isn’t, because the fucker lives with you. As far as Dave has been able to dig up, you’ve never reported a word against him, but it seems you like to stay away most of the time, anyway.

Oh, yes. Dave has been digging into you, too.

Senior in college, majoring in Environmental Science at Northeastern. Long-standing and passionate affair with nature. Event Coordinator for SAF (Students for a Future), where you’ve organised speaker panels with renowned climatologists and planted trees in Franklin Park. You write for the association’s newsletter.

All of it makes Dave frown, rubbing at his brow, hunched over his desk under the light of a single lamp. You’re so good. You’re clever and optimistic and ambitious, and you deserve a hell of a lot better than living in that shithole and working such a lacklustre job. He looks at the picture that accompanies your file, pulled from your social media, and adjusts the hard length in his pants. You’re photographed in the sunlight, smiling bright, your hair loose and gently blown about in the breeze, wearing a skimpy little sundress. Dave hisses and squeezes himself at the base of his stiffening cock. Jesus, get it together, he scolds himself. It’s a fucking photograph.

Oh, but he’s thinking about you. He’s remembering the tenderness of you, the kind heart, the way you belong nowhere near him. Your soul is snow-white. He will bloody it.

You've had boyfriends. Of course you have. A young woman who looks like you doesn't go her whole life without boys clumsily tossing themselves at your feet. It doesn't mean Dave refrains from investigating them, too. Two of them were from high school, short-term, and went to different colleges to live different lives. The third—Jack—lasted a year and a half, and you met him in a first-year sciences course. Both of you were from different towns, fish out of water, and gravitated to one another because you had no other friends. None of your friends were surprised when you and Jack began dating, but they were surprised to discover he'd been cheating on you for the last two months of your relationship.

Jack said you got busy and couldn't fulfil his needs. According to Dave’s thorough research, the girl he crawled to was his roommate's girlfriend. Dave grinds his teeth as he examines the kid’s picture. He's a fucking kid. He's clean-cut, a trust fund baby, never planted a tree in Franklin Park despite your attempts to convince him. He's never gotten his hands dirty the way Dave has. He's never bloodied them.

Another sip of whiskey, and his cock won’t rest. Dave grunts, unzipping his pants and whipping his belt off, pulling himself out. “Fuck,” he hisses, eyes fixed on your smiling face as he spits into his hand and begins to stroke himself. “Fuck.”

His head tips back against the headrest of his office chair. You’re kneeling in front of him, your sweet doe’s eyes awaiting his instruction. He takes you through it, step-by-step, because he’s a bad man, but he’d be good to you. Your perfect lips wrap around his head, your tongue lapping up the precum that beads out, greedy but obedient. You take him deeper, choking around his length and his girth, your mascara smearing as he cups your face and encourages you to take me, you can take me, sweet girl. You do—of course you do—making a low, satisfied hum around his cock when you manage to take him down your throat, happily swallowing around him as he begins to pump his cum inside you. That’s it. That’s it, baby.

Dave’s hips jerk as he comes, and splatters his cum across his stomach and his hand. Some of it, though, lands on the picture of you, which he does not remember picking up, clenching in his fist.

Is there a circle of hell darker than the one he’s already destined for?

Dave returns to the diner the next week, and your grin when you see him soaks through his bones. You nearly bruise your hips in your rush to get around the counter to greet him.

“I loved it,” you tell him right away, “the Jackson book. I think I’m gonna write my paper on it.”

He likes that you want to tell him about your life. He likes that you trust him with the small details. He doesn't want you to trust another man like that. It's a dangerous world and being so trusting will burn you. He can't let that happen. Little bird, with your glass bones so breakable.

He unwinds his arm from behind his back and offers his gift to you. Your eyes glimmer when you see it, then slide slowly up to meet his. “You brought me a book,” you gasp, “and I don’t even know your name yet.”

“It’s Dave,” he tells you, placing the book into your hand. “I looked her up. Thought you might be interested in more.”

“Dark Tales,” you read, beaming up at him with the same smile from the picture he’d jerked his cock over. Fucking Christ. He’s going to hell. You step closer to him and, tentatively, as if he might lash out at you, lift up onto your toes and kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you, Dave.”

He tries to quell the arousal that’s pumping blood double-time to his cock. He really tries. But he cannot quell the memory of your lips on his skin. Why should he deny himself the heavenly indulgence of your attention?

“I expect a book report,” he says, all stern brows and unwavering eye contact.

You hug the book to your chest and he wants to shove you to your knees, bend you over the counter, bury his face in your needy pussy. You say his name, and it’s a whispering shockwave that trembles all the way down his spine. “After such a thoughtful gift… I’ll do anything you want me to.”

Yes. Yes, he knows.

Dave knows what you need. He is what you need.

You need a man who will treat you right. You need someone to handle you properly, assuredly. You need a man who will hold you like you’re precious, shimmering granules of a crushed diamond. You want to be told what to do. You want to be dominated, protected, fucked. You want to be wrecked, and you want it to put you back together.

You need a man who will treat you right for the first time in your life.

Dave continues to come into the diner once a week. He steals you away for conversation whenever you aren’t attending to your other customers, and he gets a tick in his jaw whenever you’re whisked away. Your very existence evicts reason from his head. He wants to give you all the money you could ever want just to get you away from those wandering eyes and too-close hands. He wants to come in every single night you work just so he can keep an eye out: your silent, deadly protector. He wants to slash all the tires that aren’t his so nobody can come here and invade his private time with you. He knows he cannot do any of this because it’s something close to clinically insane.

Instead, he only talks to you. And really fucking enjoys it.

“And then Kate broke up with Garrett, even though she still loves him, but once she realised it, she realised Emily was totally in love with Garrett, so by the time Kate went back to beg him to take her back, he was already in bed with Emily, and now none of them are talking. And I’m down three club members.”

You speed through all of this while pouring his coffee, and Dave tries to wrap his head around the plot. “So… what did Emily do wrong?”

You click your tongue. “You would fail a test on girl code, Mr. York. We don’t go after one another’s boyfriends, crushes, or exes. We definitely don’t fuck them.”

Dave vaguely shakes his head. “They didn’t teach me that in school, sweet girl.”

“Good thing you’ve got me, then,” you say, and Dave never gets tired of the way your cheeks flush at the nickname. “What did you study?”

“Never went to college. Joined up when I was eighteen.”

“Oh.” You’re flustered right away, opening your mouth to stumble over the words, “Thank you for—”

Dave silences you with a mere flick of his eyes upward. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew the shit I did.”

The quiet lingers heavy and stifling, but it’s you who breaks it. “So,” you try, clearing your throat, “what did you do after?”

“Apparently, I thought serving my country was the only way to go. I was C.I.A.” He notes the way you blink in astonishment, and he feels compelled to make you learn that he isn’t good. “Now, I own a security company.”

“Does that mean you protect people’s homes from break-ins, or people hire you to professionally break in?”

The twist of your lips is wicked and shoots right to his cock. Dave leans over the counter. “Wanna take a guess?”

“Sorry, Mr. York. Anyone that secretive about their job description is up to something shifty.” Your eyes still tease him. “And I don’t want to end up dead in a ditch somewhere. Bills to pay.”

“You know I’d keep you safe, sweet girl.”

You’re cleaning the counter with a rag and he’s sipping his coffee, but both of you are smiling behind your respective tasks. “I know,” you say, your eyes briefly meeting.

Every so often, he follows you to school. It’s nice: friendly, modern with natural touches, good to look at among the fall leaves that crunch underfoot. And there you are, walking down the steps, wearing a Northeastern sweatshirt, a pair of jeans, and sneakers, your hair loose. You're laughing at something your friend said; in fact, you seem to be surrounded by friends. Dave slips his sunglasses further down his nose as he leans back against the Lincoln. His popular butterfly, so happy and brilliant.

He doesn't know how your eyes find him so quickly, but they meet across the courtyard. And a game begins.

You stop in your tracks. Your friend puts a hand on your shoulder (“Are you okay?” he imagines she asks), and you nod, making up some excuse. Dave folds his arms over his chest and watches you continue your walk down the path, departing with all but one of your friends with friendly waves good-bye.

He knows your class schedule, which means he knows you have to walk right by his parking spot to get to the building. You make it to the end of the path and your friend finally spots Dave. Oh my God, he sees her whisper. The rest is unintelligible, but he's smug as a motherfucker when you bite down on your lip to hide the grin that's tugging on your pretty mouth. And then your hand twitches, and something falls to the ground behind you.

Dave smirks. Clever thing. He rushes to pick up the key ring while you and your friend keep walking. “Excuse me, miss,” he calls out.

You turn around, all coy and demure, and he wants to drag you inside his car and sit you right on his cock to straighten out your behaviour. “You dropped your keys,” says Dave, lifting them up with a jingle.

You feign a gasp. “Oh, thank you, sir.” You make sure to brush your fingers along his knuckles as you pluck the key ring from his hand. “You're a hero.”

Dave lifts his brows in acknowledgement, looking at you over his sunglasses. “I've heard those are good,” he says, eyes flicking down toward Dark Tales, bookmarked near the end and tucked under your arm. Behind you, your friend has her thumbnail in her mouth, enraptured in the conversation that's unfolding.

He’ll have to rectify your lip-biting habit. “I got it as a present,” you tell him, your fingers tracing the title on the cover. You know exactly what you're doing, and the thrill of knowing you're attracted to him thrills Dave.

“Very thoughtful,” he muses. “I’m sorry to keep you. You must have somewhere to be.”

“Thank you again.” You look up at him through your lashes and Dave feels his nostrils flare. Your friend tugs on your elbow and he can hear the vague whisper as you both retreat from him: … so hot.

It's been a few months since he met you. He finds himself following you home and sleeping in his car outside your apartment more than in his own home. It irks him that he can't look inside and see that you're okay, knowing with absolute confidence that he hasn't hurt you.

The night something goes wrong, you sense it long before he does.

The diner is occupied by two other customers, one in the corner and the other by the door. Not unusual for this time. Dave approaches the counter and prepares to tease you about your incidental meeting yesterday.

But you just smile politely at him and ask, “What can I get for you tonight?”

Dave frowns. “Sweet girl—”

“Coffee?” You pick up the pot and Dave starts at the way your hand trembles so badly the coffee spills over the rim of the cup. He wants to touch you, reach out and wrap his firm hand around your wrist, steady your nerves. Why are you so frightened? “I’m sorry,” you say shakily, scrambling for the rag under the counter.

Dave’s instincts are never wrong. Something, or someone, has put you out of sorts. His blood reaches a simmer at the thought. His job is to protect you. He's supposed to keep you safe and happy. But your eyes are stricken with fear and your posture is stiff. The rag in your hand won't stop shaking.

It’s the way your apron sits askew, like you've been anxiously twisting it, or it's the way you smile like he's a stranger and hand him something small, “a little something extra,” on the house.

He unfurls his palm and finds a note.

The man in the corner has a gun, it says.

You don’t once stop smiling.

He doesn't recognise the man. He wears a leather jacket and jeans; there's a scar on his cheek and over the bridge of his nose, which is bent from one too many breaks; and he's looking right at Dave with a crooked smile on his face. He lifts a hand and waves. There's a tattoo on his wrist: the sigil of the Lukov Brotherhood. Dave dips his chin in greeting. Cordial. A farce. They both know it.

Dave takes a sip from his cup. “Spill coffee on me,” he says behind the rim, obscuring his mouth from the view of the man in the corner.

You go to top up his drink and overshoot, staining the front of his white dress shirt. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” you squeak.

Dave feigns a mild-mannered annoyance. “Where's your bathroom?” he asks, shucking off his jacket.

You gesture for him to follow you and usher him into the tiny, one-stall bathroom. You slump against the door and put your hands over your face. A shudder racks your whole body.

Dave can't have this. He crowds you, taking your wrists and prying them from your face. “Sweetheart.” He brushes a knuckle over your cheek. “Did he hurt you?”

You swallow thickly. “No. No, he just walked in and asked for a table, but he pointed the gun at me and said he was waiting for the right person. Said I wouldn't get hurt if I didn't get in the way.” Your eyes meet his, frantic. “Oh, God, did I just get in the way?”

Dave pulls you into his chest and lets you rest your cheek on his heart. Your breathing evens out as you listen to it beat, strong and steady. “He's a hired killer. He’s probably here for me.”

“No.” You shake your head, shoving away from him. “No, he can't… He can't do that. Why would he—?”

“I lied to you, sweet girl.” Dave cups the back of your head and bunches your hair in his fist. He needs to make you understand. “The first night we met, a senator was asking me to kill his wife for him.”

“You…” For a moment, you trail off, lingering on the silence. He can't tell whether you want to flee or bury yourself in his chest again. To his shock, a small burst of laughter escapes you, and you slap your hand over your mouth to stay quiet. “I knew you didn't just break into houses. Someone with a car like yours, all those nice suits… God, I’m stupid.”

You're trembling a little from the shock, but Dave needs to take care of the problem and get you out safely. “I need you to work with me,” he tells you. “You listening to me?”

You nod vigorously. “I’m listening, Dave.”

“Good. Good girl.” He squeezes your hip. “You need to get out through the back. I’m going to give you my keys; get in my car and lock the doors. Not your car. Mine.”

“What about you? Dave, what if he hurts you?”

It fills him with a certain courage to know how deeply you care for him. “He's a lackey, sweetheart. Joined a so-called brotherhood just to scratch an itch.” Dave leans in and kisses your forehead. “He's not gonna get me.”

He's certainly not going to get you.

Dave reaches past you to open the door, but you grab his wrist. “Wait.”

He barely opens his mouth before you're standing on your toes and pressing your lips to his. It's a frantic, hurried kiss, but it's enough. It's enough for Dave. He's going to win because he needs to take you home with him.

When you pull away, he pins you with a stern look. “My car, sweet girl. No detours.”

He opens the door and lets you flee, and then Dave is rolling up his sleeves, rolling his head around his neck.

The other customer has left, meaning Dave and the Lukov lackey are alone. “Mr. York,” he greets, toasting his cup of coffee with a grin. He's fucking cocky, thinks Dave, lifting the drink you poured for him. “She's very pretty.”

Yeah, he's going to make this hurt.

“Let's get this over with,” says Dave, approaching the man’s table and sitting across from him in the booth. “Who sent you? Why did they send you? And how many more are coming?”

“You don't even wanna know my name?” He pouts. “Ouch.”

Dave lifts a brow. “Answer my questions. If you're good, I’ll let you die quickly.”

The man leans back in the booth, acting like he doesn't know enough about Dave York’s reputation to give him the respect he's owed. New to the game. “Well, my name is Jonah, and since I’ve got a gun pointed at your precious bits under this table, I’ll skip the questions. If that's okay.”

He could have killed Dave the second he walked through the door tonight, but he wants to tell a good story, move up the ranks. It’s childish. Dave kicks out his leg and jolts Jonah’s arm aside just as the man’s instincts kick in and the shot goes off. It rings in Dave’s ears and the sound of the weapon clattering onto the floor, safety still off, echoes in the little diner, but he’s diving across the table and grabbing Jonah by the collar. He jerks the killer’s head forward so it cracks against the porcelain saucer next to his mug. Dave picks up the cup and tosses the contents directly into Jonah’s face. The man howls, the blood from the new gash in his forehead mingling with steaming coffee, but Dave is already kicking the gun toward himself under the table and weighing it in his own hand.

Dave slides out of the booth and drags Jonah with him, tossing him into a heap on the floor. “I don’t like to repeat myself,” says Dave, aiming the gun between his eyes. “But I guess I will, since you’re clearly new to this. Answer my questions, kid.”

“I’m not answering shi—”

Dave lowers the gun and blows off the man’s left kneecap. The resounding yowl can be heard for miles, no doubt. He frantically grasps for the gory heap of flesh, bone, and blood that soaks through his jeans, seething through his teeth and spattering saliva down his chin. It’s almost pitiful.

“FUCK!” he screams. “It was fucking Berkeley! Isaiah fucking Berkeley hired me. FUCK!”

Dave isn’t surprised. “Better. That’s one down.”

Jonah lifts his hand as if pleading for mercy, his breaths tedious and his face waxy. “Please, please, I—”

Dave fires a shot straight through his begging hand. The bones shatter and the muscles tear, and the blood is a river down the would-be killer’s wrist. He’s a screaming, growling, cursing heap on the blood-soaked floor. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! Fucking cunt, fucking son of a bitch, you knew too fucking much, man! He wanted to fucking shut you up, and he wanted me to kill your fucking bitch once I was done with you! FUCK!” Jonah cradles his useless hand to his chest and his face rapidly greying, going ashen with terror and agony and blood loss. “And if I couldn’t do it, he said he’d sent the rest of the fucking Brotherhood to take you both down. Fucking… please, let me fucking go, it fucking hurts.”

Berkeley wants him dead. Not surprising. He took a risk approaching Dave to fulfil his contract; he knew he would get the job done, but only if he said yes. And because he didn’t, Berkeley’s got his reputation on the line if Dave decides to blab about the plot to have his wife killed.

He wanted me to kill your fucking bitch once I was done with you.

How interesting. How very fucking curious.

The third shot tears through the soft flesh of Jonah’s stomach, and he doesn’t even scream this time. He crumples to the floor and stares at the ceiling, every tremulous breath a labour to suck in.

“You won’t live,” says Dave, cool and detached. “You’ve lost too much blood. Do you want me to kill you, kid, or do you want to lie there in pain a bit longer?”

Jonah shakes his head vaguely. His face is white. His saliva is brilliantly red. “Kill… me. Just fucking kill me.”

Dave ejects the remaining three bullets from the clip and kneels next to the man’s body. He places one bullet in the hole where his knee once was, another in the hole where his limp hand once was, and he digs the final one into the weeping wound in his stomach. “I hope, in your next life,” he whispers to Jonah, “you aren’t as stupid.”

He leaves without firing another shot, but he suspects the life has fled the man’s body by the time the bell above the door chimes to signal Dave’s exit.

You’re sitting in the car, your hands folded neatly in your lap. They seemed to have stopped trembling. “Dave,” you whisper as he slides into the driver's seat. “You’re covered in blood.”

“It isn’t mine.” He presses the ignition and reverses out of his spot. He allows himself to look at you, and your eyes are already glued to him. “I’m going to take you to my home, sweet girl. Are you okay with that?”

You nod, and his eyes dip to watch the way your throat hollows when you swallow. “Yes,” you say breathlessly. “You killed him. I saw it.”

His eyes capture yours again. They’re two beacons in the dark, glowing neon red under the light of the diner lights. “Does that scare you?”

It should. And he isn’t surprised to see you tilt your head forward in another nod. “But—” Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips, and Dave has to look away to avoid veering off the road once he merges onto the highway. “But I don’t want to leave you.” It leaves you all in one breath, like your clothes are suffocating you, the closeness of your two bodies in the car, the stifling darkness.

“Why don’t you want to leave me, sweetheart?” It’s a test, and your eyes glimmer with confirmation that yes, you know it is.

Your hand finds his, your fingers threading through his and resting on the console between you and him. “Because you keep me safe.”

He lifts your joined hands and kisses your soft, unmarred knuckles. It goes unspoken: I always will.

“Wow. I didn’t know assassins paid so well. Maybe I should take it up as a side gig.”

He’s absolved himself of the blood on his hands and changed into a new shirt, but he still smells faintly of iron and sweat from the scuffle. Dave watches you spin in a circle on the spot, staring up at the crystal chandelier in his foyer, your eyes dancing like they’re full of stars. “Sweet girl. You told me you refused to step on ants when you were little.”

“Insects and people are different.”

Dave steps up behind you and circles an arm around your waist, his fingers splaying over your rib cage and tugging you back against his chest. “You’re right,” he says into your ear. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes find the phantom bloodstain on your apron in the shape of a perfect handprint, nor the way you shiver. “People would point their guns at you and splatter your pretty brains all over the wall. People would hurt you. That man…” Dave’s lips press against the curve of your neck. You smell so sweet: rich like coffee and a bit salty with sweat. “He would have slit your pretty throat. You see how I couldn’t let that happen, right, baby?”

Your head lolls a bit, resting against Dave’s shoulder. “I know,” you say, clear as sunshine in a stream.

“I need you to tell me something, my beautiful girl.” Dave uses his hand on your abdomen to turn you in his grasp. You stare unflinchingly into his eyes. “Has your uncle ever hurt you? Has he ever given you any reason to make you believe he would?”

You blink at the change in subject. “He’s never lifted a finger against me,” you tell him. “But he’s… I don’t know, Dave. It started after my parents died. He comes home late some nights, high on something. He’s despondent most days, but he’s never hurt me. He just…”

“Isn’t there.” You nod your head, and Dave is somewhat glad he doesn’t have a reason to take the life of your only remaining relative. “Would you like me to look into it?”

Your lips twist in a tiny smirk. “Like how you’ve looked into me?”

His clever girl. “You like to play,” he murmurs, twisting a lock of your hair around his finger. “That trick with dropping your keys.”

You tilt your head to the side, brows curving up in that oh-so delicious way, and he wants to shove you onto your knees, right here in his fucking foyer. “I’m not tricky,” you say innocently.

“Reading too many books,” he grunts, his breath hot against your jaw when he leans in close and brings his lips next to your ear.

“Well, when you keep buying me books…” You gasp when he takes your lobe between his teeth.

He huffs into your skin and sucks at the spot beneath your ear. You taste… Fuck, you taste so soft, tangy with sweat, sweet as the syrup you pour. His brain is hazy with how desperately he needs you.

“Dave,” you gasp, your fingers greedily grasping a handful of his hair to keep him close. “I need… please, I need—”

He cuts you off with a teasing slap to your ass. Your yelp is music to his ears. You just clutch onto him, trying to pull him closer.

“You don't know what you need, sweet girl. I know what you need. I say what you need,” he says softly, cupping your chin in his palm. “Understand?”

You're honey in his palm, dripping through his fingers, warm. “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s right.” Dave cradles the back of your head and watches you melt into the touch, your body like a doll’s in his hands and your pupils eclipsing your irises. His cock is a hard and heavy weight in his pants, twitching at the beast that awakens at the use of your nickname. “You need Daddy to fuck you,” he coos.

He's thrilled and achingly hard, knowing he was right about you, knowing you want him to take the reins away from you and give you what you need. Your eyes are syrupy. “Yeah, I do,” you sigh, pressing your body up against him.

He takes your hand and leads you up the staircase. Your footsteps are eager as you scurry after him to his bedroom. There's a large mirror next to his king-sized bed, neatly made with neutral greys and crisp white bedsheets. “You need a plant or two,” you point out, but he's pressing his body up against yours and your words diminish to a soft moan.

“I’ll let you decorate, sweet girl,” he says, gripping your hips and letting you feel the hard line of his cock against your belly. You grind into him, rasping his name.

Dave chuckles, and you whimper at the way the vibrations rumble through your spine. “So needy.” The stubble on his jaw scratches lightly against your cheek as he continues to kiss his way down your neck, taking his fill of you. “Such a busy girl. Always working, always studying. You must be so tense, under all these clothes…” He nudges his nose against your cheek and reaches around you to tug at the bow that holds your apron in place. “Let me take them off. Hmm?”

“Please,” you whine, letting him manhandle you in front of the mirror and turn you so you’re forced to watch yourself. Dave ducks his head and puts his mouth back on you, drawn to your soft skin and the soft sounds of pleasure he can pull from you. He unties your blood-stained apron in one tug and lifts it over your head, his deft fingers shifting to the zipper that holds up your dress. When he finally finds more of your skin beneath that black fabric, a little impatient in the way he shucks it off your shoulders, Dave eagerly kisses your shoulders, the back of your neck, licking and sucking every new dip and plane he can reach. You tilt your head to give him more access, wherever he wants, moaning his name and begging, begging, “Please, Daddy.”

“Watch yourself,” he says softly, licking up the side of your neck, “in the mirror. I want you to watch yourself. Can you do that for me?”

Your eyes are lidded and your head is being mostly supported by his shoulder, but you keep your eyes on your reflection as he begins to lower himself behind you, taking the dress with him. He’s pressing kisses to each knob of your spine as he exposes you to the cool air, your nipples perking up and your skin erupting with goosebumps. He handles you reverently, on his knees behind you by the time your dress pools around your ankles, his hands reaching up and squeezing your ass. You jump slightly on the spot, and his laugh is rough—like dragging a wet cloth over gravel. “So beautiful,” he says, and it echoes in the cold room. You feel (and watch) two of his fingers slide through your legs until he finds your slit, wet and glistening. He hums, apparently satisfied. “Who did this to you, sweet girl? Who made you so wet and needy?”

You whisper his name, but it’s not good enough for him. Dave bites into the flesh of your left cheek and lands a smack to it at the same time. “You!” you squeal, grateful for the way he holds you, steadies you, before you can fall. You’re so wet it begins to drip down your thighs. “You, Daddy. It’s you.”

“That’s right.” Dave rises to his feet and lifts his two fingers, soaked in your arousal, to your lips. Once you open your mouth, he fixes them against your tongue, forcing your jaw to remain open as you swirl your tongue around his digits. Tasting yourself. His eyes are so dark they’re black in the dim light, and you want to be so good. You want to please him. He’s strong, capable, so gentle with you, and yet you feel yourself cleaving in two under his lightest touch. You’re splitting, wrecked, soft and pliable as velvet in his hands, and this is what you need. You let your mind fade, sinking into the sweet honey of skin and sex and oblivion.

The man with his body pressed up against yours is a wraith, dealing in death and dark corners and the cool grooves of a bullet—its ever-certain path through the air. He is wrath itself. His hands have squeezed out life and carried it home with him. His hands now caress your body, and you can almost call it worship.

You twist your heart from your body and place it gingerly in his palm. He will keep it safe. It thrums like a live current through your chest to his. He wraps his murderous fingers around your throat and squeezes gently, forcing your chin to tilt upward. “I want you to get on your knees,” he says, breathing it into your skin as he kisses along your jaw, making the filthy act of it sound so loving, “and I want you to suck my cock.”

Your core is tight with the arousal that soaks your cunt, and you reach behind you to squeeze his length over his pants. Fuck, he’s big. He’s long and thick and you’re dizzy at thought of him splitting you open on it, fucking your throat. “I want to make you feel good, Dave. Please.”

Dave backs away from you and sits on the regal grey velvet upholstery of the chair in the corner. You turn toward him and begin to follow, bared before him, but he leans one elbow on the armrest, still-wet fingers tracing his mouth, the outline of his cock mouthwatering.

“Don't walk,” he says. “Crawl to me.”

The thrill of the command, clear and uncompromising, sends you to your hands and knees. It should be humiliating, bruising your knees on the hardwood while dripping down your thighs, but the way he’s devouring you with the yawning black of his pupils, thirsty, makes you add a sway to your hips, a prowl to your crawl. When you reach him, you nuzzle your cheek against his thigh, and he tips your chin up with his finger. “My beautiful girl. Take me out. Go on, baby.”

You slide down the zipper of his dress pants and pull his heavy, thick cock from his briefs. It’s weeping precum, twitching in your grasp, and you can’t help but flatten your tongue against the vein on the underside of his shaft. He hisses, “Fuck,” and it’s delicious. He smells like the iron of blood and something wholly him, all man, and your lips meet the tip of his cock in a reverent kiss. He’s being patient, generous in his time with you because he’s finally fucking here: he’s with you, and you’re safe, and you’ve got your lips wrapped gently around the head of his cock. He will not ask you to rush. He will only coax you gently through giving him the pleasure he’s only let himself imagine taking from you.

You let a trail of spit fall from your mouth onto his cock, and it jumps under your teasing touches, the way you lap at him like a kitten at a bowl of milk. You’re so greedy, like he knew you’d be, but he’s so fucking close by the time you tuck your teeth under your lips and slide his cock into your mouth, deep and hot and tight, the girth of him prodding the soft walls of your throat. If you keep this up, he won’t last long enough to do all the things he wants to do with your body.

“Jesus,” groans Dave. His head tips back and his eyes find the ceiling, but that’s not fair, because your eyes are fixed on his. He keeps watching you, the fucking picture of all his fantasies, your pretty eyes wide and smudged with your mascara, your body bare for him. Tears carve paths down your cheeks as you bob your head on his cock, taking him deeper each time, choking and crying.

Dave’s hand finds the crown of your head and rests there. “Fuck, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re good. You suck cock a lot? Hmm?” His fingers curl in your hair, and you moan around him. “Mine’s the only one you really want, though, isn’t it?” he coos. “Mine’s the only cock you need. You’re my good little slut, sweet girl, on your knees for me.”

Your throat chokes him when you swallow him down, his leaking tip prodding the back of your throat, so fucking eager to please, so good for him even though you’re leaking onto the floor. You love being treated like a slut for him. You love being the one who gets to make his chest heave, his breaths laboured with the effort not to come down your throat. Dave wants to paint your tongue and your face with his cum, but Jesus, he needs to be inside your tight little cunt, and he knows it’s what you need, too. He slips out of your throat, even as you chase his cock with your tongue, and holds you back by the hand that still rests on your head.

“I wasn’t finished,” you say, and the little whine that pitches up in your used throat makes him drag you up onto his lap and drag his hand between your bodies, his fingers slapping lightly against your clit. You moan, rolling your hips against him, burying your face in his shoulder.

Dave mocks your pout, yanking your head back so you’ll look him in the eyes. You look positively wrecked, makeup smeared and eyes unfocused with lust. Your cunt leaves a wet patch on his pants. “Poor thing,” he says softly, teasing his fingers through your folds. “You want to come, don’t you?”

“I do,” you say, your throat raspy. “I want to come so badly. Please let me come.”

“Mmm.” Dave acts like he’s pondering it, circling your clit slowly—too slowly—as his mouth explores your throat before he finally makes it back to your lips. He kisses you tenderly, his tongue sliding against yours, tasting himself in your mouth. He slides two fingers inside your soaked cunt and drinks down your gasp. “That what you wanted?” he breathes into your mouth. “My fingers?”

“Any—nnnngh!” you moan, rocking against his palm as his fingers curl up against a spot inside you that makes your thighs tremble. “Anything you’ll give me, Daddy. Oh, fuck, please, make me come.”

“Such a good girl,” he hums, letting you ride his fingers, licking up the sweat that beads down your neck. “Such a needy whore for me, baby. I want to hear my name when you come.”

“Mmmm, Dave,” you mewl, body keen and wanting against him, your nipples rubbing against the fabric of his dress shirt, grinding into his hand as you near your high. Another smack, this time to the side of your thigh, another soothing touch to the welt forming there, and you’re sobbing his name, coming in a sudden trill of lightning down your spine, freezing you on his hand as your eyes roll back in your head.

He likes the way you slump against him, your face once again finding solace in his neck, nipping and sucking at him as you quiver in the aftershocks of your orgasm. He likes you so supple and malleable in his hands as he stands and wraps your legs around his hips, only to deposit you on his bed. “Spread your legs,” he orders. “I want to see the mess you’ve made of yourself.”

His words send new shocks of arousal to your core, and you ease your thighs open for him. You’re fucking soaking. Soaking and ready for him. Too bad he isn’t through with you. Dave briefly tucks his aching cock into his pants and crawls onto the bed, yanking your thighs up around his shoulders and flattening his tongue against your slit.

Still sensitive from your orgasm, you cry out, pushing gently at his head. “Can’t… Dave…”

“Said you wanted to come, sweet girl.” His hand presses down on your belly as his tongue flicks your clit, and your eyes roll back. “Didn’t say how many times. Be good and let me taste you.”

You can only whimper as he begins to lap up your slick and lavish his attention on your clit, keeping your body flush to the sheets even as you writhe and moan. He's fucking good at this, paying the right amount of attention to your clit and knowing when to pull back when it's overwhelming. He keeps his eyes on you as he eats you out, devouring you the way he likes and making you take it. “Fuck, fuck,” you croak, white sparks snapping behind your eyes. “Daddy, I’m gonna—ah, I’m gonna—!”

He keeps his tongue firm against your clit, wiggling slightly as you soak him, coming hard and fast and without mercy. Dave smacks your thigh again, and you can't tell if he wants to send another surge of pleasure through you or if he just needs to take out the frustration of having not come yet.

Dave pulls his cock out of his pants again, so hard it looks painful, and manhandles you until you're on your stomach. He slips a pillow under your hips and kneads your ass like he's getting out stress. You moan like a whore when you feel the tip of his cock tapping at your entrance, back arching. Dave covers your body with his and nips your earlobe. “You gonna be good, honey? Gonna let me fuck you the way you need?”

You're so desperate and dazed with lust that you reach back to grasp his cock, take him inside you—

Dave grabs your wrist and, for good measure, your other one too, pinning them at the small of your back. “That… wasn't good,” he says coolly, biting down on your shoulder. “I say what you need.”

You nod your head in absolute submission, your cheek pressed into the mattress. “I’m your good girl,” you tell him. “I’ll be good for you.”

Dave slides his cock through your wetness and notches it inside your entrance. Your moan is breathy and desperate, your cunt clenching around him, trying to suck him in deeper. He wrenches you open slowly, big thick cock splitting you in two, hot and slick and the thick haze of want. “Take me, baby,” he urges, halfway inside you and pushing deeper. “You can take me.”

“I can, I can.” You're nodding, wiggling your hips to take him inside you to the base, wanting all of him filling you, claiming you. Nobody’s ever come close to the way Dave is making you feel, and he knows it. He fucking basks in it like warm sunshine.

“Look at you,” he grunts, hips meeting the flesh of your ass as he finally sinks in all the way. “So beautiful. All mine.” A short thrust knocks his tip against your cervix, and you cry out with the pain and the pleasure.

“You're so big, Daddy,” you gasp, short of breath despite doing nothing but lie here.

“Yeah?” He pulls out halfway and thrusts back inside, groaning at the same time you do. “You like my big cock? You like me deep, right in your belly?” His hand slips beneath you and settles at your lower abdomen as he establishes a punishing rhythm.

You can't breathe. You can't speak. You can't exist like this, ruined and scattered into tiny pieces, your mind floating somewhere above you in the aether. It's glorious and it's agonising and you can't even remember how words taste.

Dave fucks you. He really fucks you, grinding deep and fast and using your body the way he wants to. You clench around him in your desperate quest to come again, the pleasure all-encompassing, liquid. He drips praise over your body like honey, encouraging your body deeper into that place of blissful nothing. Here, you relinquish control. Here, you feel. He gives you exactly what you need.

His fingers find your clit and you scream his name. He fucks you like an animal as he lowers his body over your again, biting then tonguing the marks on your shoulder, grunting into your ear. “Dave,” you moan weakly.

He bites again, like a punishment, his hips angling his cock deeper, somehow, sliding up against your front wall. “Spoiled,” he mutters into your skin. “Spoiled girl, you’ll want my cock all the time now, won't you?” You choke on your groan, and your core tightens as his fingers work your clit. “Who owns this little cunt? Hmm?”

“You,” comes your wrecked moan. “It's yours, Daddy. Oh, fuck, please… Daddy, please, I’m yours… I’m gonna—gonna come!”

And you do. Christ, you clamp down on his cock, your hips bucking uselessly under him and your eyes squeezing shut as you keep him tucked so deeply inside you with your tightness, milking his cock. It works: Dave pushes your name out of his mouth in a hot breath against your shoulder, hot cum spurting into your needy cunt. You take it the way you take his cock: zealous and whining, his sweet, spoiled thing, your body sucking him in and taking every drop.

“Dave,” you whisper, tears still streaming down your face. “‘M sorry, I got mascara on your bedsheets.”

Dave chuckles, lifting himself off you even as his body protests, seeking your warmth. “You got a lot of things on my bedsheets, sweet girl. It's okay. Take my hand.”

You turn yourself over and stand with his help, thighs quivering. “Oh,” you gasp, “wow. That was good.”

He presses his lips to your cheek. “Adorable,” he laughs. “Need to clean you up. Get your pretty ass in the shower.”

Your giggle is a little wobbly, a little drunk, but your drunken, beaming face is a reward to him. “Yes, sir.”

Dave smacks your ass as he follows you into the bathroom, watching you steady yourself on the glass doors as you step inside. “I've got class tomorrow,” you grumble. “Gonna have to teach myself how to walk again.”

“I don't know,” muses Dave, purposefully sliding his body up against yours as he reaches into the shower and sends the water streaming down over your head, “I like you like this.”

“Of course you do.” You flip your hair back and get it wet under the water while Dave strips out of his clothes. He steps inside with you and gently swipes a washcloth between your thighs, watching you shudder as he cleans the cum and slick from your thighs.

You hold onto his forearm and stare, eyes lidded and ringed with smudged makeup, at his strong, scarred body. “You've been through a war zone,” you mutter.

“A few of them.” Dave wrings out the washcloth and uses the water streaming down your face to wipe away your ruined mascara. You trace a scar on his pec, an old knife wound he barely remembers getting, and your eyes are so full of reverence for his past, his life, that it winds him a little.

“How’d I get so lucky?” you whisper.

Dave shakes his head, squirting shampoo onto his palm and lathering it in your hair. He finds he likes this: the quiet mundanity of it, the ease of being close to you, the thrill of being the one who takes care of you. “I’m not the kind of man who walks away from something he wants,” he tells you.

Your voice is hushed, vulnerable in the wake of all he's done to you. “And you wanted me?”

Dave presses his lips to your forehead. “I still do.”

“They won't stop, will they.” Your fingers finish the job of washing your hair as Dave mirrors your actions, cleansing himself of the blood and grime of the day. “They'll keep trying to… kill you.”

“They will.” There isn't a point in being false. You can take the truth. You deserve it. “That idiot senator wants me dead. He’ll keep sending people after me until he's sure I won't blab to anyone else.”

“Anyone else?” Your throat dips as you swallow down steam and water and the scent of linen. “So he knows… about you and me.”

“He knows that you matter,” says Dave, “and—”

“And that's why he wants me dead, too.”

You're smart. He's known it since the first day. But his vision is a red mist at the thought of some fucking coward putting a target on your back just for knowing him. “He's not going to hurt you,” says Dave, a bit more forcefully than he intended, telling you and himself and the whole world. He softens his voice, smooths it over like icing on cake, kissing you on the mouth for good measure. “He wants me dead because he knows I can fuck his life over in a couple hours. You… you’re…”

You lift your brows knowingly. “Leverage?”

“Good leverage,” he says, his hand resting at the nape of your neck. “If he wants to get to me, you're the best way.”

“I don't like that, Dave.” He wants to eradicate every memory of your frown from his head. “Doesn't it scare you—being hunted like an animal?”

“You know what scares me?” He pulls your body close, your tits pressed up against his chest. His thigh nudges both of yours open. “Someone… some fucking politician… wants to take you away from me. My beautiful, smart girl.” Dave catches the gasp that leaves you when his thigh brushes your sensitive clit and swallows it down with his mouth on yours. “They want to use you. Point their guns at you, the way people do.”

“And insects never do,” you mumble, rolling your hips and sighing at the white-hot pleasure that erupts each time your clit drags along his naked thigh.

The shower walls are thick with condensation and the closeness of your bodies is immeasurable. Dave crowds you until your back smacks wetly against the cold tile wall, and the hunger in his eyes only makes you feel wanted. His cock is stiffening against your hip, his desire cloying and clotting in your brain.

“Daddy…”

It’s soft and pitched high, and it gets lost in the relentless pattering of the hot water against his back, the walls, the floor. Dave grabs your thigh and hauls it over his hip, sliding his cock through your folds with no warning, no abandon. You think you say his name again, but he's pushing into you in one hard thrust, cleaving you in two and baring his teeth against your jaw. And nothing matters but this.

You aren't in the diner next week. You aren't at school the next day. Your contact in his phone—something new you both decided to share with one another—yields no new messages. When he calls you, it goes straight to voicemail. He wants to be reasonable. You're sick. Your phone isn't working. No—your phone is brand-new; you just bought it yourself. You were perfectly healthy when you saw him two nights ago, when he made you sit in his lap on his desk chair and fucked you until you were muffling your screams in his neck. He wants to be reasonable, but there's no reason you should be missing.

So, that night, Dave breaks into your apartment.

Your car isn't in your parking space: the first alarm bell. The second: your door is unlocked. The place has been left in a haste, the latch bolt sliding harmlessly against the plate as Dave gives the door a shove. It opens without the turn of a knob. He curses when he sees your purse hanging on the hook just inside.

Dave lifts his flashlight and makes a quick sweep of the room. It’s so small —there’s barely a kitchenette and a single couch, which sits in front of a box-shaped television. He kicks aside a cushion that’s fallen to the floor and investigates the bathroom—he’s horrified to see mould and mildew so blatantly mocking you on the walls—and finds nothing in the bedroom. There’s only one bedroom. Dave opens a drawer and finds men’s boxer briefs, socks, jeans. Nothing of your warm, bright touch linger in this bedroom. What the fuck?

You sleep on the couch every single night.

Underneath the socks in your uncle Jason’s top drawer, Dave hears a faint rattle. He picks up an amber bottle with a white cap. Blood pressure medication, supposedly. He tosses these aside and searches for more. He needs more. He needs to keep this methodical, or he will explode with anger.

Dave slides his hand beneath the mattress. A couple more bottles, indicating his forgotten problems are perhaps not quite behind him, and a number of late-notice bills. It’s nothing. It’s fucking useless, useless…

He wasn’t fast enough. He should never have trusted this man to stay with you. You should be living with Dave. You’ll decorate his home with plants and bright colours and your shampoo will be next to his. His home will smell of you, not just the faint tang of blood that he can’t seem to expel.

“Fuck!” Dave yanks out Jason’s top drawer and tosses it across the room, somewhat vindicated when it smashes into splinters against the wall. It draws his eye toward the desk in the corner. The little black shape underneath it, tucked underneath the carpet.

It’s a cell phone. Dave picks it up and finds one message blinking up at him. The battery is almost dead.

Coordinates.

Dave fumbles to pull out his own phone and take a picture of the screen. Then, he pockets both devices and leaves. He’s lingered too long already.

The coordinates take him next to the Charles River, a shipping dock whose workers seem to have left in a haste. He’s surrounded by large wooden shipping crates, rain-soaked and creaking in the lashing mist that lifts out of the river in the rainstorm that’s begun. Tarps flutter around the crates, not quite pinned down. If you’re crying out for help, there’s little chance to distinguish your voice from the rain and the general din of the city.

It’s nearing midnight, and Dave’s cell phone begins to buzz in his back pocket. Your face lights up the screen, bright and smiling and posing extravagantly (he took it in the diner, when the two of you were alone, about to exchange phone numbers; “You’ll need a glamour shot,” you said, and Dave was happy to oblige).

He puts the phone to his ear. “Tell me which crate you’ve put her in, and I’ll make it quick for all of you.”

“I promised I wouldn’t harm her,” says a male voice he doesn’t recognise. Another Brotherhood lackey, he guesses. “She’s being very good for us, Mr. York. Very obedient. Did you break her in for us?”

Dave will not take this bait. “Put her on the phone.”

There’s a faint rustling, and his vision goes blood-red at the sound of your little yelp of pain. “Dave,” comes your trembling voice. “Dave, I’m sorry.”

Dave begins to splash along the rain-slick pavement. Oil runoff stains the water and colours it like a prism. He has a cap on his head and the hood of his jacket is secure atop it. “Shh. None of that, beautiful girl. Are you hurt?”

“N—no, just… No.” It isn’t a satisfying answer for him, but you’re panicking. “Jason… It was Jason. He took me.”

“Why did he take you, baby?” Dave pushes open a shipping crate and finds nobody inside.

Your whimper indicates the man is holding you somehow, likely by the hair. “He… please… He told me he would get the money he needed.”

“Your boss offered to pay him, then?” says Dave, directing his attention briefly to her captor as he moves further east along the waterfront. He’s straining his ear for any indication of nearby voices. “In exchange for his niece?”

“More like in exchange for you. I guess he knew she’s the only way you’d come.” The man seems ecstatic with the power of holding onto such a special piece of leverage. “You’ll behave, won’t you, Dave? I know she will.”

“Dave, west! TURN WEST—”

The sound of a hand striking your cheek makes Dave jerk away from the phone and kick his foot through a nearby crate, his heart thundering with the rage that clogs his chest all the way up to his throat. The crate’s door swings open, empty. “If your girl doesn’t shut up, York, I’m going to stuff her mouth with my dick.”

His ears are ringing, the rain spitting and the wind rattling his brain around his head. This man truly believes he’ll get away with taking Dave York’s woman. It’s almost laughable.

And it’s too late for him. Dave’s already heard your scream from a crate further down the waterfront.

So the man on the phone can see him. Dave looks up to find a security camera fixed to the scaffolding above him, winking a red eye at him through the mist and rain. He waves, as if to an old friend. “You get off on watching me, huh?”

“Fun to see you flail around,” says the man, “like a chicken with his head cut off.”

Dave can’t help but grin. “Keep watching.” He stops in his tracks and raises his gun to eye-level. “Sweetheart? You still there?”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I’m here.”

“Duck,” he commands, and the shot rings out through the rain.

A little hole perforates the wooden crate, and Dave can hear your scream through the phone. He drops his shoulder to force open the door and finds his victim writhing on the floor. The shot struck him in the shoulder, but Dave puts another between his eyes. It’s merciful and too quick for what he’s done to you, but you’re what matters. And here you are, tied by your wrists and ankles to a chair, your hair matted with rainwater and an angry welt on your cheek. You cry out in relief when you see Dave kneel in front of you and cup your face in his palms. “Oh, sweet girl,” he says. “So smart. You did good, baby.”

You don’t cradle your chafed wrists to your chest or shrink away from him when you’re free, the way you should. Your arms wind up around his neck and you nearly knock him over in your rush to embrace him. “Easy,” he mumbles, burying his face in your hair, breathing in your scent mixed with the saltwater mist. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I knew you’d find me.”

He chuckles. “Your uncle didn’t make it easy for me.”

“That man…” You pull away and gesture toward the dead man on the floor. “He was the one who called Jason. Said he’d be cleared of his charges and given a huge lump of cash if he brought me to him.”

He helps you to your feet. You’re shivering like a leaf in your little dress and apron. Dave almost rips his jacket in his haste to secure it around your shoulders. “There’s going to be more,” he says. “A man as paranoid as Berkeley didn’t just send one asshole to kill me. I need you to run, sweet girl. Do you understand me? Run to the car, near the park, and stay away from the streetlights.”

You dip your chin in a nod, but a flick of your eyes over his shoulder has him stiffening. “Dave, get—!”

He’s pulling you to the ground and covering your body with his before the shot fires. When it does, it cuts clean through two walls of the crate, but another follows in its stead. Dave rolls off you, flipping onto his back, and fires at the man just visible behind the door of the crate. The first strikes his leg, which doubles him over. His brain matter falls in chunks to the wet pavement before his body crumples. Dave stands up as you crawl across the floor and dig around your captor’s dead body, producing his gun. “You know how to shoot that thing, baby?”

“Of course not!” you squeak. “Feel a bit better holding it, though.”

He flicks the safety on. “Good. Stay behind me.”

You’re dutiful in the way you follow him outside, the gun useless in your hands but Dave’s gun pointed and ready in his. The crates make it difficult, but his ears are fine-tuned to the noises of footsteps. He hears them from his left and his right simultaneously, firing one shot at the glimpse of a boot and another at a shoulder. The leftward man collapses, clutching his foot, and Dave puts a bullet in his head. The one to his right makes an almost-impressive shot from around the corner that takes out the bulb of a streetlight behind them. But his skull shatters from the impact of Dave’s flashlight striking him in the head, and he collapses.

You’re stunned by the ease with which he kills. He's meticulous and he's accurate. The muscles in his face are set, determined, a soldier moving before your eyes. He never wavers. He never flinched nor grimaces. You wonder if he would even hear you if you uttered his name. His mission clouds his eyes and wraps cloth around his ears. It's a murderer you watch at work now, a professional one, a wraith whose eyes glimmer like oil slick in the darkness. The gun clutched clumsily in your untrained hands trembles.

How can such a man handle you so lovingly?

He ushers you inside his car once you wind your way back through the maze of crates, but a shout of your name makes you spin around and lift the gun you have no idea how to handle. It's a cold, dead weight, trapped between your fingers.

“Jason,” you warn, “don't come any closer.”

“Kiddo, just let me explain.” Jason lifts his hands, indicating he's unarmed. He's standing by your car, wet hair plaster to his forehead, eyes sunken and cheeks gaunt. Behind you, Dave places a hand on your lower back. He isn't lifting his own weapon. He's letting you decide.

“You can't explain this to me,” you say through your chattering teeth. “You put me there. You traded me for money. I’ve paid everything, I’ve put up with you being high all the time, and I’ve let you sleep in my bed. Because you were family.”

“I wanted to repay you. I wanted to get a fresh start.” He stumbles forward in his haste to reach out to you, and Dave steps in front of you slightly.

Jason scowls. “And you. Are you fucking her? You know my niece is still in college? You know you're old enough to be her father? You're fucking sick.”

Dave’s nostrils flare. “I saved her fucking life. I'm the one keeping her safe while you run around with your mouth glued to a joint. How many times has she bailed you out, huh?”

Jason lurches forward, deliberately this time, aiming a fist at Dave’s face. Dave grabs his arm before it can wind back and twists it around his back. “Stay fucking still,” he sneers into his ear. Something inside you coils tight like a poised serpent, the very depths of you inexplicably wound for need of something you cannot yet name.

You stare into your uncle’s face. “You’re the sick one. I hope you get your money, because you're leaving. Dave, can we please drop him at the police station?”

You can't sit still.

Dave’s ordered you to sit on the edge of his bed while he cleans up from his massacre by the river. He hasn't let you leave his sight since last night, which means you've missed two days of school and nobody knows where you are. Your phone shattered when he murdered your captor, but Dave lent you a replacement from his desk. Apparently, he owns twelve cell phones.

“Which one of these do you use to buy drugs?” you asked.

“Guess you’ll find out.” Dave smirked at you and handed you a brand-new model. “If they ask for York, say I’m dead.”

You told your friends that you'd come down with a deathly case of the flu and they bought it, dutifully sending their notes to you in bulk through your group chat. Since you shut off the phone and placed it next to you on the mattress, you haven't been able to stop from squirming, your thighs rubbing together as the itch you've been fighting for hours clambers down the knobs of your spine.

“Dave?”

He emerges from the ensuite, still drying his hands on a bath towel, his sleeves rolled to his elbows and his face freshly shaven. You know and he knows that he’s been purposefully torturing you, and now all you can do is straighten up, not-so subtly pushing out your breasts toward him. A soft whine leaves your lips at the sight of him standing above you, so strong and deadly.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, and you wonder if he’s angry with you. You feel his knuckle brush under your chin until it’s directing your gaze, forcing you to look up at him. “Sweet girl,” he says, thumb caressing your cheekbone. “You’re all trouble. Know that?”

You bite your lip, your desire a pounding, beastly thing, clawing up your throat. “I think you should remind me.”

Dave chuckles, his hand leaving your face only to trail downward, finding the top button of his shirt, which is draped over your own body. “Wearing my clothes,” he says, circling the button with his finger until it pops out. His eyes are black, thrilled by the sight of your collarbones, flexing in and out thanks to your fluttering breaths. “Sitting so still and pretty for me…” He clicks his tongue like he’s disappointed in you. “Would you stay sitting here all night if I asked you to?”

“You know I would, Dave,” comes your shuddering sigh.

“You’d be safe that way,” he muses. Another button comes undone, and the soft skin between your breasts tempts him closer until he’s standing between your thighs. His fingers trace your hard nipples, visible through his dress shirt. “Such a dangerous girl, going missing on me. Do you know how much you scared me?” You go to dip your head in apology, but he grasps a chunk of your hair and pulls it back. “I asked you a question, baby. Answer it.”

“I never meant to scare you,” you tell him, still seeking his touch as you push your tits against his fingers. “I was so scared… thought he would try to…”

Dave shushes you. “I know, sweetheart, I know. Do you know what I would have done to him if he did?”

You shake your head. “Tell me.”

His hand leaves your hair and winds around your throat, his thumb and index finger pressing at your pulse. “I would have cut off his dick. I would have made him watch me do it. I would take off each. Fucking. Finger.” Dave’s other hand, done fondling your tits, ghosts along your arm until it finds your hand, which he lifts to the hard outline of his bulge. “I’d make sure you never remember him touching you.” The hand on your throat squeezes, and your core floods with arousal, another whine slipping out. Dave tips his chin toward you. “You trust me to keep you safe from men like him. Don't you?”

Frantically, you breathe out a yes, your brows curving up in the middle in the delicious way he loves so much. He enjoys the delicate curve of your body against him as it seeks his. Your tits are smushed against his abdomen, your face so close your chin nearly brushes his sternum. You're warm and so soft. Dave is nearly doubled over with the affection you show him and the affection he craves to show you. But he knows what you need—to be shown that you're safe in his arms.

You gently squeeze his length over his pants and Dave hisses, prying your wrist away and pressing your hand to your own breast. “If you’re going to tease,” he says, “tease yourself. Go on, sweet girl. Touch your pretty tits.”

You roll your head back on your shoulders as you squeeze your tits over the fabric of his shirt, pinching your nipples and puffing out soft moans of his name. Dave’s cock twitches in his pants, and he pulls it out swiftly, hard and heavy against his stomach, jerking himself slowly while he watches you.

“So beautiful. Does it feel good?” Your eyes are fixed on his hand working his cock, another needy moan slipping past your lips. “Would you rather be the one touching me, baby? Is that what you need?”

Your tongue darts out to lick up his slit when he squeezes the base of his cock, and Dave grunts, hips lurching forward, momentarily losing control. You eagerly take the tip between your lips, but he pulls away and slaps his cock on your tongue. “Such a bad girl, not listening. Lie back.”

Your eyes are black holes, and Dave presses his palm on your sternum to guide you onto your back when you can’t seem to think through your haze of lust. He drops to his knees and shucks your panties off your legs so roughly they tear, dangling off your ankle. It only fans the flames licking at your core, and he can see the glistening wetness of your cunt, begging to be touched. “If I ask you a question,” says Dave, blowing on your cunt and making your stomach clench, making your moan pitch high, “I expect you to answer me. I know you want me, sweet girl, but you should learn to listen to me. Hmm?”

He yanks your thigh over his shoulder and parts your folds with two fingers. “I’m… oh, I’m sorry, Daddy. Please… please let me feel you. I want to feel you. I’ll be good. I’ll be—fuck!”

You squeal when he licks up your tempting slit, groaning at the taste of your sweet tang, mingled with the scent of body wash and linen and something ineffably you. “And if I want to taste you,” he says, pressing sloppy kisses to your cunt, gripping your thighs so tightly his fingers will leave bruises, “I expect you to lie down and spread your legs for me.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you gasp at the white-hot pleasure from his warm tongue lavishing attention through your folds. “Yes, Daddy, anything you want, anytime. I’ll do anything—ohhh, fuck, Daddy, please…”

A hand presses firmly against your belly to keep you grounded as he tastes his fill of you the way he wants. This is your punishment, you realise: being at his mercy, spread out like a meal for him, disregarding your pleasure and just feasting on you at his own pace. Always at his own pace. You want to curl your fingers in his hair and keep his face in your pussy, but the idea that he’s between your legs because he wants to just taste you is so delectable that you lift your arms above your head, wrists together, and refrain from urging him anywhere. He’s in charge. He wants to remind you. As if you need reminding.

Dave notices. He sees the curve of your back, your tits straining out of his shirt, your body stretched out for him like a lounging cat. He pulls away from your cunt and bites down on the flesh of your inner thigh. You yelp, the muscles in your legs flexing around his head. “You like this,” he hums, flattening his tongue against your clit. You moan long and low. “Yeah, you do. My good little slut, letting me do what I want with your body.”

“Mmmmoh!” He nips your clit and it makes you tremble, your orgasm clawing at you despite his negligence. “I’m your slut, I’m just a whore for you, your good little whore. Feels so good.”

He and his cock love your babbling. It twitches against his stomach as he laps at you, a cat at his bowl of milk, drinking you down on his tongue. Your moans grow closer together, more frequent, and he knows you’re about to come. So he pulls away from your soaking pussy.

Your hips chase him until your mind catches up, realising he hasn’t given you your orgasm. It isn’t surprising, but it still makes you pout. “Oh, my poor girl,” says Dave, mocking your expression, crawling up onto the bed and over your body, taking your lower lip between his teeth. You try to kiss him, desperate to be touched, but he pulls away again. “You wanted to come, didn’t you?”

“Only…” You swallow thickly, the desire evident in your eyes. “Only if you want me to.”

Dave grins, his fingers sliding down to your clit and slapping it lightly. “So good for me,” he says, ducking his head again and slanting his mouth over yours. You sigh into him. “I can do whatever I want with this pussy. Tell me.”

“You can do whatever you want with my pussy,” you say between inhaling lungfuls of air as he relentlessly devours your mouth. “I’m yours, it’s yours.”

You look so beautiful spread out beneath him, steadfast in putting your trust in him even as he tore an orgasm away from you, that Dave can’t bear to withhold any longer. He guides his cock to your entrance and slides inside you without warning. You gasp, your eyes unwavering from his.

It’s intimate like this, and he’s surprised by how much it chokes him. You’re looking at one another as he establishes a deep, grinding rhythm inside you, your legs wrapping around his waist and his mouth connecting with yours in long, sloppy kisses that leave you both breathless. Dave holds you reverently, the way a follower carries offerings to the altar, his hand around your waist and bowing your back to deepen the angle. His other hand, balanced with his elbow, cradles your head as he keeps his mouth close to yours and refuses to let you look away.

He knows you’re getting close, and he is, too. He takes the opportunity to explore your body, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and sliding his hand up your ribs, tracing them with fascination for the way you breathe. He feels your rapid pulse under his fingers, circles your nipples with his rough fingers, and basks in the curves of your perfect, smooth body beneath him. You’re perfect. You’re everything he’s been waiting for, his sweet, clever girl.

“You’re mine,” he says, whisper-quiet, his hips sliding against yours, deliciously slow and rubbing up on your clit in just the right way. He won’t deny you this time.

“I’m yours,” you say, your nose nudging against his. He grins. Happy.

You come just before he does, your entire body tightening and quivering, your cunt squeezing him, ironclad around his cock. Your brows lift in pleasure and your eyes droop, your lips parting just enough for a small gasp to escape. He huffs into your hair when he comes, spilling his hot cum deep into you and bucking his hips flush to keep it snug inside.

His body is a canopy over yours, and he finds he doesn’t want to move. You smooth his hair back, your touch so gentle and calming to his erratic heartbeat that he lets out a chest-deep sound that sounds like a purr. “You’re beautiful,” you whisper to him, and there’s so much more awe in your voice than he deserves.

He lifts his chin to capture your mouth. His heart is swelling up into his throat. “Stay with me,” he says.

It’s not an order and it isn’t jagged-edged. It’s him asking, pleading. It’s him opening his palm and offering a key to you. It’s soft as the brush of sunlight over your skin in the earliest hours. “I’ll stay with you,” you tell him, pressing your lips to his. “You need some touches of colour in this place.”

Dave chuckles, rolling you over until you’re lying on top of him. You’re all the colour he gives a fuck about.

There’s a skip in your step as you walk to his car and slide inside. Dave traps your jaw between his thumb and forefinger and pulls you toward him for a kiss before you can even tug on your seat belt. “Hi, baby.” He grins into your mouth. “How was class?”

“You know, it’s funny,” you muse, checking your reflection in the visor. “Everyone was talking about it. Apparently, Senator Berkeley was found in his home with a gunshot wound to his head. They said it was suicide.”

Dave makes a noncommittal noise. “Shame. He must’ve been caught up in something he couldn’t deal with.”

You shrug, getting situated as Dave pulls out of the parking lot. “I started reading the book you got me.”

He places his hand, palm-up, on the centre console, and you take the invitation to thread your fingers through his. “You like it?” he asks.

You lift your joined hands to your cheek and rest it there. “I’ll tell you about it on the way home.”

THE END.

#kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #dave york #dave york smut #equalizer 2 #dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york x you #dave york x reader #dave york x female reader #dave york fic #suburban murder daddy

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