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marnerparty · 1 year

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baby hughes

Jack Hughes x reader

ynhughes

Liked by colecaufield, yourbestfriend and 57,826 others

ynhughes surprise! baby Hughes coming in September :)

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_quinnhughes IM GETTING A NIBLING

jackhughes come again?

_quinnhughes like sibling but for nieces and nephews

_eliaspetterrsson there’s no way this is a real word

jackhughes someone confirm please

ynhughes after a quick google search, Quinn is definitely right

jackhughes I’m so excited for this next chapter with you 🫶🏻

ynhughes i love you with my whole heart jackypoo

colecaufield you guys are gross

jackhughes it’s called love Cole. don’t be mad that you’ve never felt it

colecaufield 🖕🏻

user1 I wish I was yn hughes

nicohischier you guys!! congrats!!

jackhughes thank you cap!

ynhughes thanks Nic!🥰

lhughes_06 this is extremely mid

jackhughes that’s what I said

ynhughes and what was your idea?

jackhughes no comment

nicohischier did it have to do w/ hockey

ynhughes oh jeez

jackhughes YES! AND SHE VETOED IT!

ynhughes why’d you have to bring it up 🤦🏼‍♀️

elblue6 I’m so excited for my grand baby!! this is amazing news. congratulations yn 🩷🩷🫶🏻

ynhughes I love you Ellen!! thank you 🥰

jackhughes MOM!?

elblue6 yes?

jackhughes CONGRATULATE ME TOO!!

elblue6 congrats jack.

lhughes_06 lowercase and a period. yowzers.

trevorzegras congrats you guys!!

ynhughes thanks Trevor!!

jackhughes Uncle Trev 😎

njdevils excited for a new Jr. Devil!

Liked by ynhughes

user2 doesn’t yn know the whole world is in love with her husband? how could she do this to us?

user3 tf? it’s yn > jack any day

_alexturcotte my money would’ve been on Quinn being a dad first

jackhughes Quinn who can’t get a girlfriend?

ynhughes Jack! rude!

_quinnhughes she’s only with you cuz she’s pregnant

jackhughes she has my last name

ynhughes Quinn’s too bub

_quinnhughes HA!

jackhughes yn who’s side are you on!?

ynhughes no comment

tmeier98 congrats!

jackhughes thanks timo 🙌🏻

dawson1417 thank god, this was a hard secret to keep

jackhughes you knew??

ynhughes he was the second to know 😳

jackhughes after me right?

ynhughes well …

jackhughes WHAT!?

jackhughes who the hell was the first

ynhughes Luke …

jackhughes HUGHES!?

ynhughes yes.

lhhughes_06 I can explain

jackhughes

Liked by _alexturcotte, trevorzegras and 101,871 others

jackhughes 36 weeks & counting 🫶🏻

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ynhughes babe I’m literally huge in this, I told you I didn’t like this one

jackhughes yn, honey, you’re pregnant, your belly gets big

_quinnhughes jackson you don’t know a thing about comforting a pregnant woman who’s feeling self conscious

jackhughes enlighten me then Quinn

_quinnhughes yn, you look perfect. you’re doing the hardest thing a woman could ever do and you’re making it look easy. cut yourself some slack 🫶🏻

ynhughes quinny I love you so much 🥹

_eliaspetterrsson this man has such a way with words

elblue6 I can’t wait for my grand baby!

ynhughes she’s ready to meet you Ellen!!

user1 GENDER DROP

lhughes_06 uncle Luke will be her favorite

_quinnhughes good try bud

lhughes_06 it definitely won’t be you

_quinnhughes uh, it 100% will

ynhughes boys, why are we arguing? you can both be the favorites

_quinnhughes no

lhughes_06 no

jamie.drysdale maybe it’s gonna be me

trevorzegras absolutely not

user2 this baby is gonna have so many uncles

nicohischier still can’t believe you’re having a kid

jackhughes I can’t either it’s crazy

nicohischier it’s a good thing you have yn

ynhughes Nico Hischier, always a charmer

nicohischier 😉

jackhughes hey back off you Swiss

ynhughes be kind to your daughter’s godfather

nicohischier her WHAT!?

jackhughes uh oh

ynhughes Jack Rowden Hughes you never told him!?

jackhughes yep, this one’s on me.

nicohischier you guys are serious?

ynhughes yes, Nico! we would love it if you were her Godfather :) there’s a whole gift that goes along that my incompetent husband forgot to give you, but don’t worry, I’ll mail it today

user3 yn already seems like the best mom

Liked by ynhughes

ynhughes

Liked by adamfantilli, user1 and 77,871 others

ynhughes 9.9.23 Layla Quinn Hughes 🩷

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lhughes_06 this is the best birthday gift ever! I love her already

ynhughes we love you! & happy birthday Moosey :)

jackhughes perfect like her mama ❤️

ynhughes I love you Jack Hughes

jackhughes I love you yn Hughes

user1 I think Jack’s officially gone

trevorzegras MY BABY’S HERE! I’M SO EXCITED TO MEET HER

jamie.drysdale your baby?

ynhughes you like kids that much?

trevorzegras uh, yes. especially when it comes to my niece

_quinnhughes that’s seriously her name?

ynhughes yes!

_quinnhughes why??

jackhughes Quinn you’re so important to us, & you’re my older bro! it was only right

lhughes_06 now we have to battle out favorite uncle

lhughes_06 they probably named her after you because they didn’t want you to feel bad we share the same date of birth

_quinnhughes what’s more important, a name or a birthday?

colecaufield oof got him there

lhughes_06 you pick a name, you can’t pick a due date. what are the odds we’re born on the same day?

_quinnhughes actually Luke, September 9th is the most common birthday

ynhughes this is true Lukey

lhughes_06 okay, but what are the odds my niece is born on the same day as me, regardless of the statistical significance

jackhughes why are you using such big words?

edwards.73 the baby will think he’s smarter and choose him as a favorite uncle

edwards.73 his words not mine

elblue6 my first grandbaby! my heart is so full 🥰

jackhughes love you ma!

nicohischier my goddaughter is perfect 🫶🏻 congratulations you guys

ynhughes thank you Nico 🩷

jackhughes you’re the best cap!

user2 the name is adorable

tysmith_6 Jacky boy grew up, eh?

jackhughes damn right!

tysmith_6 congrats man! and congrats to you as well yn!

ynhughes thanks Ty!!

nhl another Hughes to play hockey! congrats!

Liked by ynhughes and jackhughes

dawson1417 Layla 🥹

ynhughes s/o for the suggestion !

jackhughes are we crediting Dawson for the name?

ynhughes no, but we loved this name and he was just another person who said they also liked it

jackhughes 🤨

jackhughes you’re the one that always loved that name …

ynhughes okay maybe Dawson helped a little

jackhughes

Liked by _quinnhughes, jamie.drysdale and 102,871 others

jackhughes my 🌎

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ynhughes

Liked by lhughes_06, edwards.73 and 75,887 others

ynhughes round 2!

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trevorzegras NO WAY

ynhughes yes!

jackhughes so excited 🫶🏻

ynhughes nobody I’d rather have by my side 🥰

user1 jack needs to stop having kids. he’s losing his sex appeal

ynhughes speak for yourself 🤷🏼‍♀️

jamie.drysdale maybe I’ll be the favorite uncle now!

trevorzegras no, it’s my time to shine

lhughes_06 we should probably give it to the real other uncle this time @_quinnhughes

_quinnhughes fuck off

ynhughes boys! behave

lhughes_06 yn is younger than you and still putting you in your place

ynhughes Luke, I don’t care you’re one of my daughter’s favorite people I will kick your ass

lhughes_06 yes ma’am 😳

nicohischier TEAM BOY 🩵

nicohischier and congrats again :)

ynhughes you say team boy like you’re not obsessed with our Layla

nicohischier oh I am, but another Hughes to the NHL would be phenomenal. specifically to the devils

jackhughes oh yeah? and you’ll still be there playing?

nicohischier I’m playing til I’m 50

jackhughes sure bud. sure

elblue6 grandbaby x2! congrats my loves 🫶🏻

ynhughes love you mama Hughes!!

rutgermcgroarty CONGRATS!!!

ynhughes thank you! miss you Ruts!

jackhughes get outta here Michigan

rutgermcgroarty & this is why yn is superior

user2 I hope it’s a boy and that he has Jack’s smile

ynhughes hopefully w/out the missing tooth

jackhughes really? we bring the tooth up now?

ynhughes I loveee youuu

jackhughes mhm

ynhughes jackson!

jackhughes baby I love you, you know this

tysmith_6 I have name suggestions, but only for a boy (which I KNOW you’re having)

ynhughes lay ‘em on me

tysmith_6 Ryan Jackson

tysmith_6 Bradley Luke

tysmith_6 Finnegan Ty

lhughes_06 thanks for the recognition

ynhughes these are really cute actually

tysmith_6 yeah, I’m awesome, it’s whatever

jackhughes who’s gonna tell him

tysmith_6 tell who what

jackhughes tell you something

tysmith_6 ????

ynhughes we already know it’s a girl!

tysmith_6 NOOOOOOOOOOOO

tysmith_6 I mean, yay, of course. but no :(

colecaufield most of the time these comments are just one on one conversations

ynhughes and what about it cole

jackhughes he’s just jealous

jackhughes

Liked by bauerhockey, tmeier98 and 130,761 others

jackhughes baby girl #2! meet Olivia Ellen Hughes!

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nhl Layla & Olivia! congrats Hughes’ on the new addition!

njdevils another Jr. Devil! congrats!

edwards.73 CONGRATS!! miss you yn!

ynhughes thank you E! love & miss you!! 🥰

trevorzegras she’s so perfect 🥹

ynhughes Trev 🥺

lhughes_06 YN Hughes: baddest bitch I know

ynhughes Lukester 🫶🏻

jackhughes now she’s crying, you made her cry

ynhughes it’s just the hormones, Luke is so sweet to me 😭

nicohischier another favorite human to add to the list! congrats jack & yn!

ynhughes thank you Nico! we love you!

tysmith_6 well, if you find yourself pregnant again, you know where to find me for names

ynhughes will do sir 🫡

tysmith_6 oh and conrgats too!!

user1 and the family keeps growing

elblue6 love you guys! so excited for you & your new bundle of joy 🩷

jackhughes thanks mama

colecaufield the cutest lil mama’s boy

jackhughes shut it Caufield

ynhughes Jack be nice. Cole’s a good one

jamie.drysdale need to meet her IMMEDIATELY

jamie.drysdale please & thanks :)

trevorzegras no me first

jamie.drysdale we live together idiot

trevorzegras okay but I get to open the door

jackhughes who says we’re bringing her there??

ynhughes I already yes.

jackhughes babe wtf?? bringing our newborn to what’s equivalent to a frat house?

trevorzegras woah woah woah, it’s nothing like that at all

jamie.drysdale that’s insulting Jack

ynhughes I can’t say no to Jamie

_quinnhughes congratulations you guys

ynhughes thanks Quinny!!

jackhughes 🫶🏻

user2 I still think they break up

ynhughes it’ll happen soon. I’ll just trap him for his child support

_alexturcotte LMAO

_quinnhughes oh yn

luca.fantilli congrats!! I’m a lil behind on the life updates 😬

ynhughes don’t worry Luca, you’re forgiven :)

jackhughes why are you friends with all these Michigan hockey kids

lhughes_06 from the umich football game?

jackhughes the what?

ynhughes oh shit

jackhughes when did you go to a football game with all the boys????

ynhughes you were on a 10 day roadie! what else was I supposed to do, wait for you at home??

jackhughes that’s not what I said! I’m just shocked I was never told

rutgermcgroarty yeah we love yn

adamfantilli facts

ynhughes

Liked by elblue6, nicohischier and 73,981 others

ynhughes these girls sure love their daddy ❤️

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njdevils our favorite Hughes posting our favorite Hughes’ :)

lhughes_06 HEY

nicohischier oof that’s tough

_quinnhughes is Layla kicking him in the face?😂

jackhughes it’s unknown what she was trying to accomplish

lhughes_06 she takes after her favorite uncle.. always kicking Jack’s ass

jackhughes at least the devils don’t hate me

ynhughes Jack that’s mean

user1 the most gorgeous family

elblue6 my girls minus one!

ynhughes mama e >>>>

jackhughes MA!? I’m in the photo too!

elblue6 I can’t lie and say you’re my favorite boy Jack

colecaufield oh shit

jackhughes I’m running away

trevorzegras it’s that karate she’s learning 😎

ynhughes she’s been BEGGING to see uncle Trev so you can watch Kung-Foo Panda. you’re the only person she let’s watch it with her

trevorzegras 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 I love her so much

jackhughes maybe Trevor is the favorite uncle

jackhughes love you & our creations 🫶🏻

tysmith_6 that makes it sound like they’re paintings

jackhughes well then I’m fucking Da Vinci

trevorzegras then who are you?

jackhughes …

jackhughes Da Vinci

trevorzegras no that’s yn

jackhughes what???

trevorzegras you said you’re fucking Da Vinci ?

jamie.drysdale OH MY GOD

ynhughes TREVOR NOT THE VERB

_quinnhughes Jesus Christ

trevorzegras oh I’m embarrassed

user2 it wouldn’t be a yn Hughes post without a hectic comment section

Liked by ynhughes

ynhughes

Liked by nsuzuki_37, biznasty and 88,719 others

ynhughes our secret baby :) Caroline Florence💕

tagged jackhughes

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luca.fantilli NO WAY

ynhughes WAY

luca.fantilli CONGRATS!!

ynhughes thanks Tilly 🥰

elblue6 so glad the secret is out!! I love my babies 🥰

ynhughes & they all love you Ellen 🥰🥰🥰

jamie.drysdale I already knew about this but I can’t believe it’s real. big congrats guys 🩷

jackhughes thanks kid!

ynhughes love you mucho jimbo!

njdevils we’ve said it once & we’ll say it again, congrats on the new addition!!

Liked by ynhughes and jackhughes

jackhughes officially a girl dad :)

ynhughes I love you Jack Hughes always 🫶🏻

lhughes_06 ew

_quinnhughes grow up

lhughes_06 you’re never on my side these days what’s up w/ that??

ynhughes guys why are we fighting in a comment section?

rutgermcgroarty because they’re children

biznasty you got this kid whipped

ynhughes boy don’t i

biznasty congrats yn & Jack! enjoy this time!

ynhughes thanks Paul🩷

trevorzegras how come you were never this nice to me

biznasty get outta here Zegras this isn’t your kid

trevorzegras it’s my niece, basically the same thing

jackhughes oh not at all

ynhughes not close Trev

lhughes_06 he’s so outnumbered

ynhughes that’s what he gets for growing up in a house of all boys

jackhughes hey that’s Ellen’s fault

elblue6 whose fault?

trevorzegras DAMN

_quinnhughes caught

jackhughes love you mom 🫶🏻

elblue6 mhm

_alexturcotte Jack’s been busy

ynhughes “busy”

jackhughes hey I do a lot!

_alexturcotte not what I meant guys

ynhughes ohhhhh

jackhughes ah he meant sex

colecaufield your parent radar is very censoring

user1 I think Jack’s officially officially taken

ynhughes the marriage wasn’t enough?

jackhughes the first 2 kids weren’t enough?

edwards.73 who knew what we needed was these two hanging up on haters?

nicohischier congrats guys! I’m proud of you kid

ynhughes ❤️❤️❤️

jackhughes cap 🥹

tysmith_6 CONGRATS!!!

tysmith_6 but something’s missing …

jackhughes yn I swear to God

ynhughes Caroline was all me …

ynhughes Florence may have been a Ty suggestion

jackhughes sometimes I feel like I’m just married to Ty

nhl can’t wait for these girls to run the hockey world someday like they’re dad & uncles! congratualtions!

ynhughes well this is just adorable

lhughes_06 *like their uncle Luke

jackhughes omg this little shit

_quinnhughes for real what went wrong with him?

elblue6 I wish I knew

lhughes_06 MA

#nhl #hockey #hockey imagine #instagram edit #instagram imagine #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #new jersey devils

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suzdin · 7 months

Text

Two For One: Ch. 2

(Dave York x Max Phillips x f!reader)

Part One Here

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-vampire Max, pre-Equalizer 2 Dave, small age gap (unspecified), no use of y/n, some angst, mention of weapons, romance, some fluff, alcohol use, smut, graphic depictions of sex, rough sex, degradation, sadism, kinda dubcon, dom!Dave, spanking, fingering, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, anal

Notes: This is a Dave heavy chapter and Max is kind of an afterthought, sorry if you’re here because of him. He’ll make a larger appearance in the next chapter, I promise! 🤪

——

“Careful, it’s a bit heavy—“ you say as you pass your bag to Dave. “—there’s glass,” you add for good measure, Dave’s fingers brushing yours as he grabs at the straps to hoist it over his shoulder. You watch as your bottle of Smirnoff lists to one side, breath catching in your throat until it eventually tips back.

Ignoring the almost-fiasco of it crashing to the sidewalk, Dave eyes you up and down once he settles everything, which causes your cheeks to heat. “What are you in the mood for?” he asks, his eyes large and brown, reminding you almost comically of a baby cow.

“Um,” you answer awkwardly, not sure what to say. You don’t want to pick something on the pricier side, your impoverished upbringing screaming at you in your head. “I don’t really have a lot of money, so…there’s a Burger King around the corner?” you suggest.

Dave shakes his head in disagreement, his lips tilting into a smirk, the skin around his eyes crinkling in a way that makes him look soft. Inviting. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m paying.”

And herein lies a new dilemma: you don’t want him to assume you’re gouging him for money. It isn’t like the restaurants in your neighborhood are high class, but they certainly aren’t cheap, either.

“Oh, um, well…” you begin. “What are you in the mood for?” you ask, deflecting the question back to him.

Dave knows what you’re doing; you don’t want to choose something that might leave a bad taste in his mouth, literally and figuratively. He can’t help to admit it strokes his ego a little that you want to make a good first impression; he thinks that bodes well for him. He tries not to let his gaze linger longer than necessary.

He cants his head forward, gesturing for you to follow him. Together, the two of you start down the street.

“Well,” he begins, raising his eyebrows in contemplation. “There’s Italian straight ahead. An Irish pub called Quinn’s that has decent enough food across from that. Greek and Indian on Broadway…” he trails off idly, hoping any of those sound appetizing.

“Greek is good. I like Greek. Hummus actually sounds killer right about now,” you admit, your stomach grumbling audibly at the mention of food. You clutch at yourself as if that will stop it. “Sorry.”

He re-adjusts the bag on his shoulder and smiles over at you, pointedly ignoring your wailing stomach. It isn’t heavy, not really. Not for a big guy like Dave. “Mythos it is.”

——

The restaurant isn’t far. You walk, shoulder to shoulder, mostly in silence. Dave can’t stop thinking about you or the sounds you’d made for Max; his dick fighting with his brain, trying to keep himself in check now that he’s this close to you.

He clocks right away how different you are from Carol, who would have vetoed every restaurant in the city and then complained about being hungry later. Carol, whom he’d met at his church—back when he gave a shit about such things—only a few months before being sent away to the Marine Corps, so that he hastily rushed into a marriage that neither of them ended up being happy in.

Carol liked to present herself as a godly, Christian woman, though from Dave’s experience, he knew that to be far from the truth.

You, on the other hand, did not give off such vibes, the way you often slept in until noon on Sundays (when you didn’t happen to be working, that was), the somewhat revealing cut of your clothes, or the fact that you didn’t care enough to keep your debauchery stowed away, if the constant slew of alcohol and cigarettes had anything to say about that.

Not to mention how you allowed yourself to be manhandled in a public space with little to no concern of being discovered.

Would you let him drink with you later? he wonders.

Would you let him touch you? Fuck you?

As if on cue, you pull a cigarette loose from your purse. “Is this okay?” you ask as you draw it up to your lips.

There’s something in his eyes you can’t quite read.

“By all means,” he responds, and you let go of a breath. His eyes track the way your lips curl around the filter as you bring the lighter up; the way you cup your other hand to block the wind as you walk. He’s never been more jealous of a cigarette in his entire life.

“Want one?” you offer, assuming that’s why he’s staring.

“No, thanks,” he replies with a small laugh. “Gave them up years ago when I left the Marines.”

Marines? This guy couldn’t possibly be anymore different from Jonathan, you think.

Jonathan, the tortured artist. Jonathan, who once tried to make his own beer and failed horribly, which landed you in the ER several months ago. Jonathan, who dragged you from your home state all the way to Massachusetts, depleting your life savings, and now you don’t have enough money to get home.

He was your type, once. Maybe Dave is what you need.

Maybe Max is what you need, you ponder, a particularly brisk step reminding you of the soreness blooming between your legs.

You don’t need a relationship, you think. What you need right now is no-strings-attached sex, which is exactly what Max seems to be able to offer you.

Dave is cute, though. And seems nice. You can’t deny there’s something reticent about him, however. Something tucked away.

It fascinates you.

You’re about half done with the cigarette by the time you reach the restaurant. You snuff it out on the ground and cram the remainder back into your purse.

It’s a small, hole in the wall sort of place with outdoor seating off to one side, somewhat hidden from view of the street. The inside is intimately lit, and seems a touch cramped for your taste.

“Inside or outside?” Dave asks.

“Out, if that’s okay,” you reply. It’s a cool September evening, which means it will be pleasant enough to sit outdoors, unlike back home this time of year. It’s a nice night and you’d like to enjoy it a bit longer.

“Yeah. Of course.” He tries to quell his nerves when he notices how empty the patio is; were you trying to hint at something? he wonders.

You realize at the same time Dave does that the patio is devoid of other patrons, and you hope you didn’t give off the wrong impression, but it’s too late to say anything by the time he tells the host to seat you there.

The patio is situated between two buildings, adorned with standard metal grid outdoor tables and chairs, a few planter boxes flanking the walls, and string lights strewn above your heads. The host seats you by one of the tables nearest a wall and tells you someone will be by to take your order shortly.

“This is nice,” Dave says, taking time to pull out your chair for you before you sit. It stokes something in you; none of the men you’ve dated ever took such a simple gesture into consideration.

It probably shouldn’t, though. You barely know him.

You shuffle uncomfortably under the table. It’s been a long time since you’ve been on a date, if that was in fact what this was, and you aren’t really sure how to feel about it; how to act and what to say.

“So, where are you from?” he asks, breaking the ice for you.

He is, of course, only making small talk out of formality; he already knows where you’re from. All the places you’ve lived, the jobs you’ve had, your relatives, your financial situation. Social media links. By simply finding out your name and knowing where you work, he was able to obtain more information about you in hours than he had in months of watching you.

It wasn’t enough. He needed to know more.

“Texas,” you answer. The waitress is here now, and she takes your drink orders. Dave orders a Diet Coke and you start to order a water—your go to because it’s free—but change your mind at the last second and order the same thing.

“Be right back with your drinks,” she speaks in what you assume is a Greek accent. You mumble a polite thank you out of habit.

“How about you?” Your turn to ask now.

“Baltimore. Parents were in the FBI, so we stayed close to D.C. for a reason,” he replies with a smile. You make a face of admiration because you don’t know how else to respond to that.

“Wow,” you say as a placeholder. “The FBI? Impressive.”

He preens and shakes his head with a small laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

And then you settle into another drawn out silence. It should feel jarring, but to you, it’s a reprieve. You were never good at carrying a conversation. You start looking over the menu to fill the time, even though you already know what you’re getting.

“So. You want hummus, right? I’ll order some when she comes back,” Dave says.

“I’m getting that as my meal,” you state and it’s true. You would normally get an entree if you were just eating alone and save it for later, but you’re being polite. Besides, you’re really jonesing for some hummus right now.

“You sure?” he asks. “You can get anything you want.”

“I know. Thank you. But I— the hummus sounds good,” you reiterate. He concedes, brushing a hand through his sweat damp hair.

“Dolmas, then,” he suggests, pointing it out on the menu. Your menu, in fact, so that his arm briefly comes into contact with yours.

“Yeah. That sounds nice,” you agree quietly.

He can’t stop himself from smiling at you. You’re so kind. So polite. So shy. Everything that Carol isn’t.

He almost couldn’t believe what you’d let Max do to you. The sinful noises you’d made as a result.

Your duality captivates him. Not unlike yourself, he has his own duality.

He’s already growing stiff under the table. He can’t help it. He wishes you would make the same noises for him.

The waitress comes back a few minutes later with the drinks and takes your orders. “It will be out shortly,” she says when she’s done, tapping her pen against the ticket book as she strides away.

Dave starts asking you about your family. He already knows, of course. But he wants to hear you say it, perhaps to elaborate the details, see how much you’re willing to open up. He nods along patiently as you talk about your sick grandmother and how your mom takes care of her full-time. That you send money to them every once in a while, which is just one other thing that keeps you from saving, although you omit that last part.

You briefly touch on the subject of your brother—your only sibling—and how he’s been in and out of jail and rehab for years, but you don’t expound on that more than necessary.

Dave knows everything so he only lets you tell him what you’re comfortable sharing. He knows about the armed robberies, and that when you say jail, what you really mean is prison.

He notices how disquieted talking about your brother makes you. He’s overcome with the urge to kiss you, again. Take away the hurt. He settles on gently squeezing your shoulder instead. You don’t cringe away this time. He lets his hand dally a touch too long, perhaps, but you don’t say anything.

The dolmas come out a few minutes later. You admit to Dave you’ve never had them before, but after trying the first one, you’re hooked. They’re earthy, lemony and savory; everything you would expect and more.

“Glad you’re enjoying them,” Dave says affectionately. “They’re my favorite.”

You start to relax, a little. But you’re still mostly a bundle of raw nerves and when staff is out of view, you bend over to dig in your grocery bag to retrieve the vodka. It’s been such a long—and bizarre—day. It cannot be helped how you’re feeling or that you need relief.

You don’t catch Dave’s eyes on the droop of your chest as you bend…or the way he licks his lips salaciously, imagining how your nipples would taste against his tongue.

“Would you like any?” you query as you unscrew the top and dump what looks about a shot’s worth into your soda, swirling it with your straw.

Dave should say no. Lord knows he can barely contain himself as it is, stone cold sober.

But like most things having to do with you, he can’t resist, so he doesn’t. You pour some of the clear liquid into his cup.

And it continues like that for a while; adding another shot after every refill, halfway to being drunk by the time your food arrives, your anxiety dissipating with every drop of alcohol in your bloodstream.

Dave’s little touches grow more frequent, as well. Your hands and arms, your nearest shoulder, your knees. A few times, he has to stop himself from gripping your knees to spread them apart for him. It’s been a while since he’s been drunk; you’re probably handling it better than he is.

“What about you, then? Tell me about your family,” you pry, adding another shot to each of your cups.

Dave tells you about his parents, his siblings—one brother and one sister, both older. One lives in Rhode Island and the other in Florida. He says he doesn’t see them as often as he’d like.

“What do you do for work?” you question.

“I’m retired from the CIA,” he answers honestly, pointedly leaving out the part where he still acts as a consultant from time to time. He does not elaborate more than that.

Your eyes go wide, your brows shooting up your forehead. Dave must be the most decorated person you know. “CIA? This isn’t a situation where you have to kill me now that you’ve told me, right?” you ask playfully, and Dave laughs, his fingers grazing your hand.

“I’ll just pretend I didn’t,” he says around a laugh. You melt into a soft smile and he almost grabs you. Almost drags your mouth to his.

His control is waning by the minute.

“What brought you to Boston, anyway?” he finally asks. He knows already, of course, but he wants your side of it.

You’d been avoiding the subject, but the words flow easier now that you’re inebriated. You tell him about Jonathan; how you’d met online, fell in love—or so you thought—moved halfway across the country for him, only for him to leave you for another woman. Your cheeks shade red with anger.

You clock how hard Dave’s face gets while you’re recounting everything. It’s sort of amazing how swiftly his visage shifts from light to dark in the span of mere seconds. It’s unsettling in its own right, really, so you wave your hand dismissively, in order to change the subject.

“What about you? What brought you to Boston?”

He shifts back in his chair, knee brushing yours and bumping it aside ever so slightly. But he isn’t listening, his bubbling thoughts like a dull roar between his ears; he’s thinking of all the ways he would torture Jonathan before killing him. He’d killed many men, both for the Marines and the CIA. He enjoyed it. Got off on it. So what’s a little more blood in his ledger, in the shape of two men named Max and Jonathan?

He would kill them both as soon as he got the chance. The first in years.

“Dave? You okay?” you ask, placing a tentative hand on top of his where it grips the edge of the table, your thumb skimming the hills and valleys of his knuckles. His gaze snaps to yours, and he recognizes the worry in your eyes. You’re worried about him. It’s been a long time since anyone has worried about him.

That small reciprocative touch from you is all it takes to provoke him, drunk as he is. His opposite hand moves suddenly to your throat, then to the nape of your neck, and he pulls you into him, mouth crashing against yours, needy and messy, all teeth and lips until you open your mouth to him and he’s laving at you with broad strokes of his tongue.

You taste like vodka and heaven.

He swallows your whimper as it works its way up from the depths of your throat; as much as you can’t believe you’re kissing a man you’ve only just officially met, you’re impervious to stop him. This is exactly what you were wanting, what you were needing earlier, with Max. That intimacy, that connection, that Max had denied you. That Dave is offering freely. It’s what you wanted so badly and you only stop when Dave does, pulling apart from you to catch his breath, panting against each other’s lips.

You swipe your tongue against his bottom lip after a few moments, enticing him to return, and he takes advantage of the invitation with a deep groan, prodding his tongue hungrily into your mouth. He palms himself over his shorts as he does so—he can’t help it. You drive him fucking crazy.

You’re letting him touch you. He cannot believe you’re letting him. He wonders how much farther he could go.

His hand moves to your chest, curling lightly against the rise of your upper breast, skirting, testing. When you don’t object, he moves lower, gently cupping you from underneath, cradling the weight in his hand. He grunts into your mouth, dragging his thumb up to circle the stem of your nipple. Might as well go for it as long as you seem receptive.

You pull apart, panting hard, lust-drunk and intoxicated. His hand doesn’t move from your breast, his thumb deftly doing laps around the circumference of your stiffened peak, and it feels better than you could have ever imagined, your head draping over the back of the chair.

You need to know how his thumb would feel circling the bundle of nerves between your legs. You know how fucked it is, how fast everything is moving between the two of you, but you find yourself unable to give a shit after the year you’ve had.

You take his hand and move it down to the cradle of your lap as your legs splay wide for him. He cups your heat with his hand, wrist cocked, completely swallowing you in its mass.

His eyes go impossibly dark. Almost unreadable. His lips pull tight, and you think you see the promise of a smirk there, but you can’t be too sure. His brow is furrowed into a heavy line, lending him a feral—almost dangerous—appearance. And he absolutely is, right now—he’d wanted you for so long and he finally has you. Target acquired. God help anyone who might try to take you from him.

His hand doesn’t move right away and you almost think you’ve offended him. You start to cant your hips, seeking friction, and he stills you with the other hand, wide palm holding you in place against the chair.

The thin bike shorts don’t leave much to the imagination; he can feel your soft folds against his fingers and the dampness that is already creeping through. He starts to stroke with his fore and middle fingers along your seam, his thumb firmly pressed to your clothed clit, rolling tight circles.

It’s all so much that you would buck into his hand if he wasn’t holding you down. You mewl pathetically in his wake, and you’re certain you do see his lips curving into a grin now.

You feel like a rabbit locked in the jaws of a wolf.

“Feels so pretty for me,” Dave murmurs against your lips, his forehead pressed to yours as he holds your gaze in his. “What else would you let me do to you, huh?”

You swallow. Your heart is slamming in your chest. The hero facade from earlier is gone and the real Dave is now bared right in front of you.

“Whatever you want,” you respond in a shaky breath. You’re scared of him, but you kind of like it. The fear consuming you is enrapturing.

“That’s a dangerous proposition,” Dave tuts, tongue clicking between his teeth. Thumb continuously circling your sensitive nub.

A moan slips free and you find it nearly impossible to stay in one spot, even in his clutches. He eventually resigns himself and lets go, hand coming up to squeeze just under your jaw.

“Would you let me put a finger in you? Right here?” he rumbles lowly, his voice deep, dark. It almost doesn’t sound like a question, coming from him.

You already know the answer to such a devious question. You’d let Max almost do the same, after all, and you don’t even like Max.

“Yes,” you admit. “Yes…please.”

“Fucking filthy.” His eyes shine and his lips curl into a wicked smile. Carol would have never agreed to something like that; as if he hadn’t asked on multiple occasions. But that never stopped her from fucking a neighbor at a Christmas party several years ago.

The ache in his cock is burgeoning on painful. His grip under your chin tightens; still very much controlled, but enough to get his point across. “Grab my cock.”

Your breath catches. He leans in to kiss you again, your fingers skating along the inner plane of his thigh, snaking into the opening of his shorts. You find his stiffened member readily, lacing your fingers around the ample girth and stroking it along the ridges of your palm, slowing down when you reach the head. Precum leaks down your wrist. He’s warm and hard as steel and feels amazing. He grunts into your mouth, hips rolling forward, chasing your touch.

“Fuck,” he whispers. He’s spent so long dreaming of this exact scenario that now that it’s happening, it’s too much. Too much and not enough all at once. He breathes headily into your mouth, sucking and biting at your lips. He wonders if you’d suck him off under the table; he knows from listening to you earlier that Max hadn’t claimed your mouth. He wanted to be the one to claim that before Max, spill himself down your throat and mark you from the inside out.

It’s so much that he won’t last long if you keep touching him like that, your soft warm hand doing slow, rounded strokes on his cock. He stills your hand and you exchange a glance.

“Lean back, sweetheart.” His words go straight to your core. Max had also called you that, but the cadence was different, more derivative. Dave’s movements are deliberate and controlled, unlike Max’s more chaotic approach. Cold and calculating; yet something in the low pitch of his voice makes you want to trust him.

You lean against the chair, hips sliding forward. Dave wets two fingers against his tongue and, resuming the onslaught of his mouth on yours, pulls back the band of your skin tight shorts to slip the other hand inside.

Your head lolls back against the chair and your eyes flutter shut. Your head swims; what is wrong with you? The waitress could come back to find Dave knuckles deep inside of you at any second.

But that’s part of the allure.

His hand dips lower, skimming the soft curls of your mound, tracing your shape. He’s only inches away from discovering your drenched and waiting hole when a new sound penetrates the fog of your mind. It takes a moment for understanding to settle over you, and then hits you abruptly: someone is clearing their throat.

Your eyes snap open and Dave yanks his hand back so hard he elbows the arm of the chair, a quiet hiss escaping from his lips as he tries to downplay the hurt. You look up to see the waitress peering down at you.

“I was going to ask if you wanted dessert, but seems you’ve already started,” she points out. She looks more amused than angry, but it doesn’t stop the shame that blooms hot in your cheeks at being so careless.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her softly.

“Just the check,” Dave says, doing his best to feign innocence. He bites the inside of his cheek. “Thanks.”

You both burst into laughter like a pair of teenagers as soon as she’s out of earshot. You look down at your half eaten plate of hummus and pitas. “Shit, I should have asked for a box too,” you say, acting as though you didn’t just have hands down the other’s pants. He chuckles, brushing a hand through short, dark hair.

“Yeah, guess so.” His mouth hooks into a crooked smirk.

The air of the moment is gone as you fall into a silence that is more comfortable than the one before, his hand lingering on your knee, thumb circling your kneecap as a gentle reminder.

The waitress returns and she is a saint. Not only has she brought the check, she’s also brought boxes for your leftovers and something in a smaller to-go box. “Baklava, for after,” she says, giving you a knowing wink. You blush. “On the house.”

Dave pays the check and leaves a generous tip as quickly as he is able to do so.

——

Dave’s hands are all over you the entire way home.

Not in a gratuitous way; he’s learned his lesson there. But that doesn’t stop him from sliding his fingers up and down your back as you walk together, or the way his hand curls taut around your hip and ass to pull you in close to nip at your neck. You giggle and playfully try to fend him off, but it does very little to dissuade him, of which you don’t mind.

He’s grateful he chose to wear loose fitting shorts to jog in today. Anything tighter and it would leave very little to the imagination. He’s sure he’s showing enough already, but he can’t be arsed enough to care, or help how deranged you make him feel. He would have taken you at the restaurant, if you had let him. If the two of you could have gotten away with it.

You arrive at the passage between your buildings after what seems like an eternity of walking. You feel his fingers dig a little harder into your backside as soon as you round the corner, and then he’s turning you, pressing your back flush against his building the same way Max had done to you earlier against yours. The similarities between both men is eerie.

His mouth finds your neck and he sucks a line of red marks down to your shoulder, leaving behind a trail of hickies that won’t be going anyway anytime soon, but you’re too fucked out already to mind.

“My place or yours?” Dave asks. His pelvis crowds into you, erection grinding at your center, the thin fabrics of your outfits a blessing as you feel every hard press of him into you.

“Yours,” you mutter without a second thought. You don’t know if you could handle two men in your space in a single day. You’d barely had time to gather your thoughts from earlier, much less clean up after yourself.

If only you knew what Dave knows. What he did.

Dave pulls away from you, one hand circling your wrist as he drags you with him, the other digging into his pocket to retrieve the keycard from his wallet. You need the same for your building, he thinks. Safer that way, less chance of being tampered with, and he would be able to rest easier.

He readjusts the grocery bag on his shoulder as he slides the keycard into the lock and pushes the door open. “After you,” he says, motioning ahead. You do as he asks, stepping over the threshold and into the building, Dave following at your heels.

His building is nicer than yours, a little more modern and kept up. A bank of mail boxes sits off to your right, a seating area to the left. There’s a staircase directly in front of you and an elevator beyond that. He gestures you up the stairs.

“I’m just on the second floor, last door on the left,” he instructs, and you dutifully begin your ascent, slowly, as you’re still more than just slightly tipsy.

Dave falls in line behind you. A moment later, you feel his hands spanning the width of your ass, kneading your flesh against his palms, landing a soft smack to your right cheek; just hard enough to let you know that he’s there and what he’s about to do to you.

“I’ve thought about this ass a lot,” Dave says in a low pitch, “Feels just as nice as I imagined it would.”

You reach the landing and make your way down the narrow corridor until you reach a door with 2A emblazoned on it, canting your eyes towards Dave for conformation. He nods and you step aside as he moves to unlock the door.

The interior of Dave’s apartment is larger than your own. It has an actual bedroom, for one. It’s also more tidy—there isn’t a lot of furniture, very few personal items, which means less clutter. No pictures hung on the walls. Just the bare necessities. A man’s apartment.

Dave puts your bag on the kitchen counter and he’s on you before you can even slide your purse off, removing the burdensome item for you, tossing it thoughtlessly behind him to join the other. His lips crash into yours, needy and desperate, tongue licking into your mouth as his hands roam over your chest to cup both breasts.

You feel better than he could have ever imagined. Like your body was made just for him, the way it slots perfectly against his own.

You make a chirp of surprise as he scoops you up with a low growl, one arm across your back and the other in the bend of your knees as he carries you to the bedroom down the hall. His mouth doesn’t relent, sucking and biting at your lips, your jaw.

“Going to ruin you tonight,” he moans against your mouth.

He puts you down on the edge of the bed when you make it to the bedroom. It’s just as sparse of the rest of the apartment, with plain black sheets and a plain black comforter. At least the bed isn’t made up; that makes you feel a little better about how you live.

He crouches in front of you, large brown eyes darkening a shade as he studies your face. Hands gripping your thighs.

“Just so you know, darling, I don’t play nice,” he forewarns, hands sliding down your legs to stroke your bare calves. Going off of what he heard earlier, he’s sure that won’t be a problem. “Before we start, is there anything off the table?”

You consider his question for a moment, thoughtfully biting your lip. “Yes. I’m not on birth control, so…” you trail off with a nervous giggle. Your condoms are of no use back at your apartment.

His jaw clenches. Of course he doesn’t have any condoms either, as he hasn’t had a need for them in quite some time. He supposes he understands. It isn’t like he needs more kids, anyway.

“Guess I have to cum in one of your other holes, then,” he muses, squeezing and kneading your calves. His hands are large and warm and they feel fucking amazing. “If at any point you want me to stop, you say ‘foxglove’. Otherwise, I assume anything goes. Clear?”

“Clear,” you confirm, inclining your head in a small nod, a tremor slithering its way through you as you consider the possibilities.

Dave’s expression hardens as a hand lifts to your face, landing a smack across your cheek just hard enough to sting but not hurt. Not yet.

“Tell me what you say if it’s too much. I need to hear you say it,” his voice dark and heavy.

“Foxglove. The safe word…is foxglove.”

One corner of his mouth slants upwards into a smirk, his eyes remaining dark. Glassy. “Atta girl,” he says with a wink.

He begins removing your clothing, yanking and manipulating the fabric free from your form until you’re completely nude, your skin pebbling as cool air rushes over you. His gaze traverses your curves, drinking you in with his eyes as he licks his lips hungrily. He can see bruises forming where Max’s fingers gripped you, where they dug in. He surprises himself when it only serves to further turn him on, the head of his dick beading with precum as he pictures how Max must have fucked you. Part of him wishes he had been able to see it for himself.

He slaps you again, harder this time, hand moving to your throat to shove you down until your back makes contact with the mattress, a small gasp rushing out of you. Moving from the floor to the bed, he seats himself at your side, grabbing one of your knees to spread you open.

He drags a finger along your soaked seam, revering how wet you already are for him, how easily the tip of his finger slips inside. “Fuck, is this just for me?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. You nod in response. “Fuckin’ slut.”

He sinks his finger to the last knuckle, pumping a few times, adding a second a moment later. You mewl and writhe underneath him, craving more friction between your legs.

“Just fuck me, Dave, please. Want your cock in me.”

He chuckles, balls pulsing in response to your words as he removes his fingers from your dripping heat. “My cock, pretty girl?” he purrs. “Who’s calling the shots here?” he asks you, pinching and twisting one of your nipples as retribution. The pain makes you cry out, tears stinging your eyes, your back arching.

When you don’t answer, he repeats himself, tugging harder this time. “Who?” he snarls.

“Y-you! You!” you whine, moving your hand over your breast to soothe the hurt, but Dave knocks it back, pinning it to the bed.

“Don’t move your hands. I mean it.”

Your body trembles. This isn’t the mild mannered Dave from earlier; the juxtaposition absolutely terrifies you and it’s fucked how much you like it.

“You,” you repeat for good measure. “You do.”

Dave beams down at you, caressing your cheek. “Good girl.”

His fingers move to curve inside of you, adding a third this time, splitting you open for him. You keen at the sting of being stretched around his knuckles, hips instinctively bucking against him. You whimper when his palm bumps your clit.

He stills you with his opposite hand and you flinch, anticipating more retaliation.

“Easy,” he soothes, flattening his palm against your hip as he strokes. “I got you.”

His fingers pump lazily through your slick, sinking to the hilt, allowing himself to feel every ridge and ripple of your tunnel. Memorizing it. You’re so wet for him; he still can’t believe that you’re letting him do this. How did he get so lucky?

He fishes his phone from his pocket in a moment of insight; he doesn’t want to take any chances in case you never let him do this again. His eyes move to your face as he does so, awaiting any kind of objection, only to continue when he finds there is none. You watch with curiosity from your perspective as he flicks open the camera app and begins to film, training the lens where his fingers are currently disappearing inside of you.

It goes on for several minutes like that, Dave filming as he fucks you with his fingers, the wet squelch of his digits driving into you paired with the accompanying sounds of your gradually building pleasure more than a little gratuitous, as if it was straight from a porno.

He can tell by the way your inner walls are tightening that you’re getting close. He wants to get you off before he does, prepare you for the inevitable stretch of him so he can properly ruin you on his cock.

He passes the phone to you now, scooting higher up on the bed. You watch him through the phone screen and realize he’s still completely clothed, the lewd bulge of his erection more than obvious even through the phone. As if on cue, he palms himself before settling in next to you.

He nibbles down the rise of your shoulder, trailing to your breast, leaving small suckling bites until his mouth reaches the hard peak of your nipple. His tongue laves over it, circling it, sucking it into his mouth and taking it between his teeth. It sends a shockwave of pain through you, your cunt clenching down on Dave’s fingers, momentarily blinded by your pleasure.

You do as best you can to capture everything on camera, but there’s so much going on, your brain so swimmy you can barely see straight.

“Mmf,” he groans against the stiffened bud. “Doing so well already,” he praises.

His teeth move to the pillowy flesh of your outer breast, biting down harder than you would have imagined he would—to the point of nearly drawing blood—another lance of pain shooting through you with a strangled cry. It’s at that moment an orgasm unexpectedly washes over you, taking you by complete surprise as you scream Dave’s name loud enough for the entire building to hear.

His cock pulses with the need to be buried in your dark, wet heat as he rides out the ebbs and flows of your ecstasy, hand still fucking into you, harder and faster than before, and before you even realize what’s happening, a second orgasm surges through you like an arc of lightning on the tail end of the first, your vision pulling white for what seems like a lifetime.

“Fuck,” you mewl, your voice almost a sob. “Fuck, Dave.”

He keeps pumping until the aftershocks of your back to back orgasms starts to be too much, burgeoning on painful, and you plead for him to stop, grabbing at his wrist without giving it much thought.

“You know what to say if you want me to stop.” His face contorts into a wicked sneer. “I like when you tell me no.”

You let out a sigh of relief when you get a brief reprieve from the overstimulation as he pulls his fingers out of you, leaning forward to force your mouth open with his fingers. “Clean them off. Taste yourself. Taste what I did to you.”

You do your best to turn the camera to your face as you suck obediently, tasting a mixture of yourself and the salt of his skin, murmuring low in your throat as your eyes move to examine his face. He’s drunk on lust and on you, slack-jawed, dark eyes shimmering with dubiousness. Somehow, if it’s possible, it makes you even wetter than before.

When he removes his hand, a string of saliva connects your mouth to the tip of his middle finger, which you most definitely capture on the camera.

“My turn,” he says, sliding into a stand, removing his shirt and letting it join yours on the floor. The first thing you notice are his shoulders, endlessly broad and well defined, flexing with every movement. You’re unable to pull your attention away from the vastness of them until he’s kneeling again, grabbing you by the hips and pulling your ass to hang over the edge of the bed.

His face is buried between the juncture of your thighs a moment later, arched Roman nose nudging your overly sensitive bundle of nerves. His tongue dips to penetrate you, lips forming a tight seal around your entrance as his tongue scrubs at your inner walls, groaning deep in his throat as he tastes you for the first time.

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he moans against your folds. “Best I’ve ever tasted.”

“No, Dave, stop,” you beg, weakly pushing at one of his shoulders with your free hand, so overstimulated it hurts. Between him and Max, they’ve already done a number on you today, and Dave hasn’t even properly fucked you yet. Your words don’t make Dave stall, however; if anything, he speeds up.

You know what to say if you want me to stop. His words echo in your mind as a single teardrop clings to your waterline. You could just say it, foxglove—a type of poisonous flower, aptly fitting—and you’re certain he would stop. But you’re willing to see how far you’re able to go, how much you can take, the word fading away behind your lips along with your considerations.

“Stop,” you whimper to spur him on, intentionally antagonizing him now, and he growls, animalistic, heady, unrelenting as he grazes his teeth over your sensitive nub, making you cry out before returning to his previous task of eating you out like a man starved.

It isn’t long before he drags a third orgasm out of you, your hips bucking completely off the bed to chase the fleeting stimulation, his name a chant on your tongue. Your fingers curl into the sheets to anchor yourself.

Dave falls back on his calves, chest heaving as he takes a moment to collect his breath, likewise allowing you to catch yours.

He runs a hand over his face, wiping away the sweat that wants to fall. He often stopped using his air conditioning after summer, and he’s feeling the effects now as perspiration beads up and rolls down his back.

“Are you ready for my cock?” he asks, his face cast in shadow, lending him an insidious appearance. It makes you shiver.

“Yes. Need your cock in me,” you whine, knowing how sore you’ll be after this, how sore you are now. You can’t find yourself able to care.

Dave rises, one hand on his hip, cock pulsing and leaking with arousal at the chance to fully bury himself in you. He goes over to the side of the bed, hauling you up the rest of the way by your arm, which makes you yelp.

He takes the phone from you and places it on the nightstand, angling it so that it faces the bed. You aren’t sure how much you were able to capture with his head between your legs, so you’re happy to be relieved of film maker duty.

He’s on top of you an instant later, shorts somehow shed in a frenzy of movement, lining himself up at your entrance and then pushing inside in one smooth, devastating go. His head rocking back to slump against his shoulders at how amazing you feel, how tight you are for him despite being with Max, how subservient you’ve been and how well you’re taking him. It takes every fiber of his being not to offload into you on the first thrust.

His hands lace around your throat as he begins to pump, squeezing into the meat of your neck. “Look at me,” he snarls.

You look up at him, brown eyes shifted to black, a dark band of shadow covering his visage, making him seem that much more sinister. He isn’t fully railing into you yet, but he isn’t exactly going easy on you, either, every thrust into you more tender than the previous.

“Open your mouth for me like the whore you are,” Dave commands, tightening his grip until the edges of the room start to blot away. “And stick out your tongue.”

Your lips part and you curl your tongue outward, thinking you know what’s coming, but still being taken aback when you feel a thick glob of saliva land directly onto your waiting tongue. You don’t give him a chance to tell you to swallow; you do it on your own, opening wider for more.

“Does my little slut want seconds?” Dave asks, and you nod. He smirks, spitting directly into your mouth again, watching intently as you swallow. “Filthy. Should make you eat my cum, too.”

You nod in wanton agreement, but you’re unable to speak with his massive hands digging into your windpipe as they are. The flash in his gaze tells you his understanding, though, and he starts fucking you harder, instructing you to lift your legs so he can slam into you as deep as he possibly can, the head of his dick knocking at the delicate spongy area at the back of your tunnel.

And then a fourth orgasm rolls over you, vision fading away momentarily as your head rocks back against the pillow, choked cry clawing its way out of your throat.

You aren’t sure how much more you can take, which Dave must admit is more than he expected you to. Your body is numb and your head is pounding; you hope for your sake he cums soon.

He loosens his hold on your neck, and you’re able to breathe again, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath him as you catch up. He taps the side of your face, softly, almost affectionate in comparison to how hard he slapped you before. Then he pulls out of you, wrapping his hand around his thick cock, slowly pumping himself with your slick and cum.

“Maybe I won’t spill into that pretty little whore mouth of yours,” he muses. “Maybe I should take your tight little asshole instead.”

Your heart palpitates faster, eyes going wide. You’ve never done anal more than just a finger or two and Dave is so girthy—the idea gives you pause, admittedly.

Dave expects you to say no. Like, actually say no, this time. The veins running the length of his shaft pulsing as he imagines how your ass would feel sheathed on his cock, but he isn’t pressing the issue, so he’s more than pleasantly shocked when you don’t abstain.

“Okay,” you mumble, hardly above a whisper. “Need you to fuck my ass, Dave.” You look up at him through your lashes and it stirs something primal in him, hearing those words come from your sweet mouth.

He wastes no time in flipping you over, pulling you up to your knees as he notches himself at your star of muscle.

“Have you ever done it before?”

“N-never, no. Just fingers,” you admit, biting back your trepidation.

“I’ll start off slow, then. Get you nice and stretched out. But I won’t be able to control myself for long, knowing I’m the first one who gets to claim your ass. I won’t go easy on you after that point.”

You swallow and nod. The alcohol will definitely help to loosen things up, but you aren’t sure how much.

Dave tilts your hips up, spreading your cheeks to spit directly onto the ring of muscle. He slips a thumb inside, pumping it easily a few times, groaning at how you squeeze him.

“So tight,” he growls. “Going to feel so fucking good.”

He slides his thumb out and spits again, first at your entrance and then into his palm, smearing the cocktail of saliva, slick and precum over himself. He grips your cheeks and spreads you open as wide as possible, positioning his head between them.

He starts to push slowly inward, the initial stretch painful, your vision temporarily reduced to nothing, tears stinging your eyes. It’s so much. He’s so much.

In spite of yourself, you do your best to relax, regulating your breathing and slackening your muscles. It seems to help as he claims another inch of you with a throaty reverberation. “Doing great, baby.”

You moan, an amalgamation of pleasure and pain when he pushes in about halfway, filling you in ways you never could have imagined. He pumps his hips languidly as he continues to gain ground, parting you slowly around his length, molding you into a desired shape for him, until he eventually bottoms out with a visceral groan.

“Fuck,” he pants. “So fucking perfect.”

He holds there a moment, relishing how fucking amazing you feel strangling his cock, knowing it won’t take much from this point to send him hurtling over the edge; he’ll have to make sure it counts.

He ruts into you a few times, gingerly, opening you further to ensure you have ample time to mentally prepare for the impending onslaught.

“How does it feel?” he asks, kneading your hips under his hands.

“G-good, so f-far,” you reply. “Okay.”

“That’s too bad,” Dave tuts. “We’ll have to fix that, won’t we, darling?”

He plants a hard smack to your ass, causing you to arch involuntarily with a high keening yelp, rocking you back into him as a dagger of pain courses through you. Dave grunts, snapping his hips into you, and you yelp again.

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it.”

He flattens his palm over where he made contact to soothe the hurt, but before you can settle he strikes you again, harder than before, gripping your hips with enough force to bruise as he begins riding you rough and frenzied, bucking his hips against yours.

His hand snakes around to your front and finds your swollen and overworked clit, administering quick tight circles to the delicate bud. Your initial instinct is to push him away, tell him to stop, and you do. You cry out for him to stop, because it’s so much, he’s so much, forgetting in your haste that it only spurs him on, makes him want you more. And it’s so much that he’s literally fucking you senseless, unable to breathe or even think.

Despite everything, that familiar tickle begins to build low in your abdomen again, the noises you make with every thrust inhuman and supplicant. You want him to stop but you don’t. You don’t know how much more you can withstand but at the same time want him to use you all night.

Dave rumbles from the depths of his chest, completely feral as he ruts into your ass, the noises you’re making driving him to the brink of insanity, the same ones you’d made earlier for Max. And he can feel his climax building, listening to your salacious inhuman noises, envisioning Max fucking you in your apartment and how much you’d fallen apart for him. And subsequently four times so far with himself.

“Whose ass is this?” Dave snarls, spanking you again, leaving an imprint of his hand behind.

“Yours, Dave, yours!” you cry.

“That’s right. No one else’s. Just mine. All mine,” he grunts. “Cum for me, baby. Need you to cum as I rail your ass.”

“I can’t, Dave, it’s so much…” you whine. Everything is disorientating. You’re glad you have tomorrow off because you aren’t certain you’ll be able to walk after this.

“Yes you can. Cum for me. Last one.”

He flicks the pads of his middle and index fingers over your clit, and when you think it isn’t going to be possible, another orgasm burns through you like a powder keg, your walls clamping down around nothing as Dave spears himself repeatedly into you. You see stars, crying out his name as your arms give out beneath you, the upper half of your body slumping into the bed.

Dave snaps his hips once, twice, three times more and then he’s cumming hard with a deep, animalistic snarl, pumping himself deep as he uses you to milk every last drop of himself.

He eventually slows to a halt, both of you panting hard, covered in a thin sheen of perspiration, your bodies like jello as you sink in tandem to the mattress below. Dave pulls out of you, rolling onto his back as he pants up at the ceiling.

He takes a moment to catch his breath and bearings before he scoots off the bed, checking to make sure you’re okay as he turns off the camera on his phone and then heads to the small en suite bathroom, the only one in the apartment. He starts the warm tap and retrieves a wash rag from the basket he keeps by the sink, running it under the water until it’s pleasantly warm.

He returns to you a moment later to find you already halfway to dozing, looking at him through sleepy, half-lidded eyes. It stokes something in the cold cockles of his heart seeing you like this, running an affectionate hand up the back of your thigh as he approaches you. “Here, open up.”

You hardly have any cognition left, yet you somehow manage to comprehend, spreading to allow him to clean you. The warmth of the rag is relieving against your sore and tender parts, and when he feels you’ve been sufficiently looked over, he seats himself next to you, brushing your hair from your eyes.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Mmhm,” you manage weakly, unable to keep your eyes open now. “Jus’ tired.”

“Rest,” Dave says, stroking along the edge of your jaw with his thumb. “You’ve earned it.”

He watches you a moment longer as you drift off, leaving your side only when he’s sufficiently sated on the image of you in his bed to go clean himself up in the bathroom. While he’s in there, he can’t help but think that being able to fuck you should have scratched that itch, scratched it enough that he could move past you, but now that he’s had you—he feels it growing even more restless than before, contorting into some kind of twisted, dangerous animal. He fears the things he would do for you. To you.

He needs to remember you like this. All fucked out and beautiful in your post-coitus glow, one hand rested under your cheek. He goes back to you, grabbing his phone to snap a picture of you. And then several more.

He has to see his daughters this weekend so his time with you is fleeting. And he won’t be around immediately after either, since he’s decided to make a little impromptu trip up to New York to pay a friendly visit to your ex.

He rejoins you in the bedroom, flipping on the wall unit air conditioning before sliding into bed next to you, wrapping you in his arms as he places kisses where he left marks on your neck. You utter a small, chirping sound, settling into his arms as the rest of your mind slips away to sleep.

——

You aren’t sure how long you were out.

Your mouth is parched and you’re simultaneously freezing and burning up, a layer of sweat between your bodies where your skin makes contact. He’s got you tangled up in his arms and he’s like a massive furnace, smothering you with his impressive body heat.

But the A/C is also going and everywhere the air touches is freezing, your skin bubbling with goosepimples.

You shift, hoping it will rouse him. You need to get home. When it doesn’t work, you move your limbs more, stretching and quietly murmuring his name. He eventually stirs, looking down at you with sleepy baby cow eyes, somehow soft in their regard of you, despite every debauched and depraved thing he did.

“Dave, I need to go.”

He frowns. He has to leave tomorrow morning for Virginia, but he was hoping you’d stay, wanting your face to be the last he sees before then.

“Spend the night. I make a mean bowl of cereal,” he jokes, the edge of his lip quirking up. “Or we can order in.”

You deliberate on it. Dave absolutely wrecked you, brought you the brink of losing yourself several times, frightened you and hurt you. You let him. You wanted it—you liked it. And you like him.

But your ex ruined you in the worst of ways. Things had moved quickly with him, you being absolutely starstruck in love from the start, and look where it got you. As much as you like Dave, you fear history repeating itself. You barely know him. You can’t risk going down the same road again.

“Next time,” you offer as compromise. He doesn’t do anything to hide his disappointment, but he nods in confirmation anyway. As much as he needs you to stay, he doesn’t want to push you away with his neediness.

“Next time,” he repeats with a nod. “Sure.”

You get up to use the rest room, slipping back into your clothes, checking yourself out in the mirror as you do so and notice how you’re absolutely riddled with marks. You can hide out in your apartment tomorrow, sure, but you aren’t sure what you’ll do for work. Wear a scarf, maybe.

“Let me walk you home,” Dave says as you gather your things, taking the grocery bag from you, even though it really isn’t that heavy. You lift heavier boxes of coffee at work, after all. “Please.”

“Dave,” you say with a laugh, “I live, like, a hundred feet from you.”

He offers a weak, nervous laugh of his own in response. He really is a man split right down the middle, personality wise. A study of duality. “I know. It’s just proper.”

You don’t fight it. You’re already turning down his request to stay; may as well give him this one. “Sure. Come on.”

He walks you down with his hand planted in the small of your back, gingerly stroking as you make your way outside. The air is stagnant and quiet, the faint sounds of traffic somewhere in the distance.

You reach the door of your building and turn to face Dave with a shy smile, your cheeks heating. You aren’t sure why, after what you let him do to you. “Well, this is me.”

“Yeah,” he says with a breathy laugh, placing his hands on his hips and looking you over. “I can walk you inside, if you want.”

“I think I can manage,” you reply with a smile. “Thanks, though. And thank you…for everything.”

As he passes you the bag, something else unspoken passes between the two of you, Dave rushing into you to plunge his tongue past your teeth, licking broad strokes into your mouth. You moan and sink your fingers into his hair without even thinking about it.

Fuck, he’s going to miss you.

He was hard again the moment you woke up naked in his arms, and he’s even harder now as he presses into you, cock twitching to feel you again.

“I have to go,” you plead against his lips. “I’ll see you this weekend. Promise.”

He frowns. He never told you about his daughters. Or his divorce. Now probably isn’t the most opportune time to bring it up, either.

“I’ll be out of town until next week,” he says. “But after. Yeah.”

It tugs at something in you, hearing his voice drop like that. You decide to compromise once again by offering your phone number up as penance.

“So, we’ll still be able to talk,” you say.

“Yeah. Sounds good.” He smiles, even though he doesn’t exactly feel up to it, the corners of his eyes wrinkling into crow’s feet.

“And bring me back a souvenir from wherever you’re going,” you say in jest. “I’m kidding, by the way. Don’t.”

He chuckles. “I’ll bring you back a “‘Virginia is For Lovers’ shirt,” he responds.

“Virginia? Nice.” You nod. “But seriously, don’t. And have a nice trip.”

“I’ll try,” he admits. And then he kisses you again, less aggressively this time, hand trailing down to the curve of your buttock, resting there, but not squeezing. It’s taking everything in him not to pull your shorts down and fuck you within an inch of your life, again, in the open like this. But he refrains.

“Talk to you soon, Dave,” you say as you take a step away from him, punching in the door code on the keypad. Dave watches your fingers move, tucking the number away for later use. 6435#. Easy enough.

“Soon,” he agrees. “Have a good night,” he says, his voice dropping to an affectionate octave when he says your name.

He watches you go. Watches you leave him. He swallows back his pride, knowing he hasn’t driven you away fully yet, but more than a little concerned he doesn’t have you exactly where he wants you.

He returns to his apartment alone, which already feels empty without you.

He knows it will be impossible to sleep right now. He brews himself a cup of Earl Grey and takes it over to his computer, the screen shining a bright white in his irises as he sits down to do some digging on Jonathan. He has enough information to go on; now it’s just a matter of filling in the gaps.

He can’t wait to pay your ex a visit.

——

Max surprises himself when his heart drops at not seeing you at the shop the next day.

Maurizio is there, whom he greets unenthusiastically, his ex-schoolmate little more than an acquaintance at this point, but the interaction is amiable enough. And some kid with a face full of piercings manning the counter who’s maybe all of eighteen at best, as far as Max can tell.

At least that pink haired bitch isn’t working today, Max thinks.

He orders a large Americano and a cookie to go, his usual order. He asks if you’re working today. The metal-faced kid—whose name tag says Vincent, and whom he recognizes from yesterday—tells him you’re off today.

“Thanks.” Figures you wouldn’t be here. For whatever reason he can’t seem to fathom, he hasn’t been able to get you off his mind since yesterday. Even wore the same tie as a reminder, which is something that meticulous, obsessed-with-his-own-appearance Max does not do. Ever.

He takes his Americano and cookie and leaves, thinking about you on his way to work as he takes small sips of the subpar coffee. He wonders what you do in your free time. What you’re doing now.

He thinks, perhaps, he’ll drop in after work. He knows where you live now, after all.

He can’t wait to see your face when he shows up unannounced at your door.

@ohheypedrito @kateispunk @survivingandenduring @oberynslady @chronically-ghosted @onmysluttyknees @kellybelly1978 @annieispunk @sarap-77

Enjoy! 😘

#pedro pascal #writing #romance #smut #author #fanfic #pedro fanfic #dave york #max phillips #equalizer 2 #bloodsucking bastards

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pickledpascal · 1 year

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Love’s Train

Chapter Three: 2018: Changing Roles

Warnings: A bit of existentialism, swearing, feelings of inadequacy, i’m an american and i still don’t know how the US government works.

Word Count: 1.7k

Love’s Train Masterlist

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It was a little unfortunate in Quinn’s opinion that she wasn’t included in the action of Cybertron almost colliding with Earth. Yet, at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel relieved. Stressful situations were never her strong suit. Going to war… she knew she’d have a mental breakdown of some sort. But just because Quinn wasn’t fighting alongside the Autobots doesn’t mean she was in the clear just yet. Earthlings were starting to change their minds again about Cybertronians. Hailed them in a more positive light, especially after they just saved Earth for possibly the millionth time. So the Autobots needed a human, someone they could trust, to speak for them in front of the entire world.

It just so happened that Quinn was that human.

It couldn’t be Cade. He was too brash and angry, someone who was sure to rub the wrong people the wrong way. Quinn seemed to be the correct choice. Someone who was diplomatic yet firm, kind but she wouldn’t budge if it came down to it. She was Bee’s recommendation and it seemed Optimus couldn’t really refuse.

So Quinn’s dreams of going to college were put on hold. Creating a safer world for her friends was much more important than getting a mechanical engineering degree. Optimus Prime entrusted her with introducing Cybertronian-inclusive laws. She couldn’t pass up this opportunity. Bumblebee was her closest friend, she couldn’t let him down either.

So far so good. Quinn was able to fix Bumblebee’s voice box. He could finally speak using his own voice instead of the radio and speak he did.

“How was the council?”

“Was the president there? What was he wearing?”

“If someone threatens you, I’m shooting them with my canon.”

“Fucking humans.”

Just a few things he’d say after Quinn would come back from Washington. It was weird, having to get information she’d need for the next council from Bumblebee and not Optimus. Perhaps he didn’t trust her just yet which she couldn’t blame him for. The Autobot leader was gone for years, not knowing just how much the world changed in his absence. Maybe he was just getting used to it all again. Quinn was at the junkyard, laying on the dried up dirt of the ground as she looked up at the stars. She wasn’t able to even see Optimus. Not in a way that mattered. She’d see Optimus parked to the side of Cade’s trailer or even driving out of the main road. Quinn had never seen him transform, just the truck.

It was hard to not take it personally. Quinn was their human representative, why wouldn’t he at least want to introduce himself? It seemed a bit… childish in her eyes. Though she wasn’t sure why. Bee carried on as if everything was fine. Which it was for the most part. The few laws Quinn had introduced so far had passed, both parties afraid their approval ratings would go down if they vetoed them.

Law one was simply not making Autobots enemies of the state anymore–only in America though.

Law two was granting Autobots citizenship as if they were any other human born in the states. That one took a bit longer to pass because Cybertronians aren’t really born, especially not on Earth. They just so happened to crash land in America.

Through time, though, Quinn was able to find some old friends of Bumblebee and Optimus. Ironhide and Ratchet. They were both alive, just hiding very well. It was nice to see their reunion. Especially when Ratchet realized Bee could talk and that Quinn fixed his voice box instead of some other Autobot. The junkyard started to be like a safe haven for the bots. Somewhere away from the horrors of the world.

Bumblebee laid down next to Quinn, optics staring up at the night sky as well. “You look at the stars when you feel lost.” He hummed, gears shifting as he turned his head to look at Quinn. “What’s on your mind?”

She let out a breath and sat up, lifting her knees to her chest as she looked at Bee with a light smile. Being friends with a Cybertronian was nice, of course it was, but that meant Bee could start to pick up on the little things about Quinn. “I just–I was thinking. About Optimus. I know I’m human and we’ve hurt a lot of you but, I mean, he was the one with the final decision. Why haven’t we met yet? Sometimes I’ll see him leaving or resting next to Cade’s trailer like he is now but… he hasn’t gone all ‘robot’ mode in front of me yet. It makes me feel… disappointed.” Quinn admitted, scratching the back of her head before fixing her glasses.

Bumblebee waited a moment before he answered. If he had lips, Quinn was sure he would have pursed them. “It’s… hard because I can’t give you an answer to that. Optimus likes to keep his cards close sometimes. He wouldn’t even interact with Sam unless he was under extreme danger. Perhaps he’s keeping himself isolated from you so you are not endangered.” He suggested before continuing as he sat up as well. “Those humans who share congress with you, their intentions are not always pure.”

“I know, Bee…” Quinn sighed as she looked into Bumblebee’s bright blue optics before she was enveloped in a hug. She chuckled softly.

At that point, she was used to slightly getting crushed in between Bee’s solid metal hands and his chest composed of the front of whatever car he’d turn into at the time. It seemed to be the latest Camaro. Honestly, Quinn was getting comfortable with hugging Bee. She cupped his cheek and smiled as he closed his optics and leaned into her touch. Bumblebee was very affectionate and… cute.

—-----

Another day in Washington, a hotel provided by the government for the duration of her stay, and a yellow and black Camaro sitting comfortably by the side of the street. No one would even think twice to look at it. Fall was starting to roll in, brown leaves dancing along the wind before falling to the ground. Quinn’s birthday was just a few months ago. Nineteen and still not in college.

Quinn was making her way out of the hotel, dressed in a deep blue suit and white tank top, when someone bumped into her. “Sorry!” She quickly apologized before looking up at the perpetrator. His face seemed familiar.

“It’s alright. You must be Quinn Harlow. I’m Sam Witwickey.” He introduced himself as if Quinn would have known who she was but she was drawing a blank. Sensing this, he quickly added. “I saved Optimus Prime then he saved the world…” Sam trailed off.

Then Quinn nodded, remembering. “Yeah, your face is much slimmer. Must be why I didn’t recognize you at first.” She smiled sheepishly. Sam certainly looked a lot more like an adult than in the pictures she’s seen. Truth was, Bumblebee didn’t talk about Sam much. They had some sort of fallout before Bee had to go into hiding. All the information Quinn did know about Sam was from old Sector Seven records.

Sam cocked his eyebrow before he caught sight of the Camaro on the other side of the street. “Isn’t it… dangerous for Bee to be here?” He asked.

“Laws have been put in place in case you forgot so no. Not anymore.” Quinn answered with a small smile and a nod. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Witwicky, but I gotta go.” She waved, making her way to Bee.

What a weird morning in Washington…

—------

Each day Quinn was called to congress started to blur together, it all started the same way with the same questions being asked over and over again that it would give Quinn a headache. Not sometimes but all the time.

“Which Autobots are you closest too?”

“Bumblebee and Ratchet.”

“Why did you start working with them?”

“To understand their anatomy.”

“What is their anatomy like?”

“Unexplainable to a panel of people who know nothing about mechanics at all.”

“Have you worked on their weapons?”

“Yes, however not anymore.”

“Have you been able to talk with their leader, Optimus Prime?”

“No, he’s very secretive and only allows extremely trusted humans to speak with him. It is also safe to assume I’ve yet to speak to him because if I had I am under oath not to lie to you.”

None of this was hard. Just incredibly, mind-numbingly, tedious. Quinn hated tedious things but she agreed to help her friends and she wasn’t gonna back down just because her job would give her a headache. It was a job after all. She knew it wasn’t going to be fun. The aftermath would be. To be around Bee in public in his bot form would be a dream.

Huffing as she closed the door to the Camaro, Quinn closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “I’m fucking tired…” She ran a hand through her hair before she dragged it down her face to try and put some life back in her face.

A static started for a second as the knobs for the radio started turning before Bee’s voice came through. Innovation was Bumblebee’s middle name if Quinn had anything to say about it. Always looking for new ways to communicate. “Back to the hotel, Captain? Or home?” He asked.

Quinn sighed as she set a hand on the steering wheel. “Hotel, I need to grab some stuff. Tomorrow morning, we’re going home.” She said as she pursed her lips. She was able to grab a few spare parts needed to fix the rest of Ironhide and Ratchet on her way over to Washington. Ironhide needed a better weapons calibration system, his canons wouldn’t power up anymore and Ratchet needed a new medical scanner. Both of which she was able to find, rummaging around in a few spare parts ditches. Quinn thought it was weird to throw away parts people didn’t think they needed anymore… Well, at least she got them for free. That’s always nice.

#oc #bayverse optimus #bayverse optimus prime #optimus prime x human #optimus prime x oc #optimus prime #quinn harlow #optimus prime x quinn harlow #transformers bayverse #transformers #soulmate au #soulmarks #soulmates

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