#but it is dexs time to shine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

polaris-daydreams · 3 months ago

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like calls to like

pairing : dark!benjamin poindexter x dark!reader

warnings : DARK CONTENT ❗❗stalking, blood, murder, background character death, severed hands, unhealthy dependency, delusional thoughts, religious themes and imagery. DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18❗❗

summary : dex starts spiralling when he thinks reader is slipping away from him. but what dex doesn’t know is how deep reader’s jealousy runs.

w/c : 2.3k

a/n : special shoutout to @thevillainswhore bcs we were literally twinning with the same dex fic ideas in chat, it's crazy !! this has been sitting in my drafts for a bit, but i kept rereading her encouragement on this piece and finally finished it. make sure you read mollie’s work when it comes out ! gif credits: @novagif. warning/support divider credits: @cafekitsune. bullseye divider credits: @uzmacchiato. likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated, hope you enjoy <3

Dex wishes he never agreed to Ray’s invitation.

He’s trying his hardest to keep his focus on you across the ballroom. Your eyes shine while listening to Ray’s retelling of a mission, delicate hands hypnotizing him as you get too engrossed in explaining your version of the story.

This would've been a pleasant night for Dex. Him keeping a watchful eye on you from afar as you go about your daily life. Just like he used to do before the two of you got together. A fateful meeting when he realised what a gentle soul you had. It was hard to miss considering the both of you worked as FBI agents. That sort of soft hands and a warm heart didn't belong in your shared line of work. Didn't last long.

Just like how Dex won’t last any longer if this reporter kept clinging on to him. Some amateur writer eager to get a juicy headline instead of a hard hitting story. Dex barely remembers her name but she’s hanging off of his arm, going on and on about how excellent of an agent he is. He doesn't need telling, Dex knows. But he also knows this is a social networking event. Knows that there are cameras all around taking pictures of this interaction. Dex runs his hand down his face, thinking about how the media will spin it this time around.

The woman is too close, too much and too unlike you. Dex's mind is screaming at him. It's taking everything in him to not lose control and throw the glass he's holding to the wall. The grip on his drink makes his knuckles turn white.

Dex remembers his mantra to be good, good for you. He can't lose control in public or leave a trail of dead bodies again. Not when your teary eyes and wobbly lips flashes behind his eyes every time some dumb motherfucker tries it. The memory of you being the only one there for him, besides Ray, when he was being used as a scapegoat. The evidence on his side was flimsy, and yet you stood strong beside him. Letting the goodness of your heart blind you to his true nature.

His violent tendencies remain shackled only because of you, your pretty hands and soft smiles that bring him back into the light. But it's so hard to be good when the reporter won't take the hint and loops her arm with his. Dex has to close his eyes and think of your perfectly imperfect smile, the melody of your laughter. His other hand not holding the glass faintly twitches, as if he's reaching out to your body in his prayers. But when he soothes the urge to throw something and cracks open his eyes, you aren't in his eyesight anymore.

There’s a faint buzzing in his ear.

He politely (as politely as he can, rage thrumming beneath his fingertips) separates his body from the reporter. Putting on his mask of a charming smile, spouting an excuse about “duty calling” as Dex points towards his boss.

The mask immediately drops as he turns back, shuffling his feet quickly over to where Ray is.

“We caught the culprit in- oh Dex?”

“Where is she?”

Colleagues stiffen at his interruption, stories of his eagerness to use lethal force spreading easily around the office. Ray takes notice of Dex’s rapidly blinking eyes, knows how much he depends on you.

“You just missed her, man. She left for the restroom, it's on the left past the hallway.” Ray supplies it with an easy smile, hoping to calm Dex.

He mutters out a thanks before making his way over to the restroom area. It’s more quiet in the hallway, thick walls muffling the jazz music in the ballroom. Dex thinks he hears a hint of an impact landing and frowns. Picking up his pace, he rounds the corner on the left just as you pull back the door to the ladies.

Dex feels his shoulders relax.

The furrow in his brows vanishing.

Buzzing softening in his ears until it's completely silent.

“Oh!” You jump slightly by his sudden appearance.

“Thought I lost you back there angel. You alright?”

“Of course, my love. Just had to touch my makeup real quick.” A pretty smile forms on your lips, Dex feels like a lovesick teenager as the nickname falls from it.

Nothing he had worry about, Dex smiles to himself.

Except when you pull the door back a little wider to join Dex outside, his eyes flick up past your head.

One of the sink mirrors is shattered, he notices.

A glance that ends as quickly as it started, as you tug his arm along. Leading the both of you back to the ballroom, your heels clicking against the hallway floor.

The confusion breezes past his mind when your familiar warmth envelops his bicep. Dex had nothing to worry about.

Dex has everything to worry about. Your routine’s completely changed the past 2 weeks. It started off small. The first week was closing your browser whenever he came around your office cubicle. Turning your phone off and setting it screen down on the table as he joined you on his couch. Dex’s jaw clenched everytime it happened.

The next week had him rescheduling your night dates. Citing extra workload and last minute cases. Dex would stare at your messages, as if burning holes into his phone would make you change your texts.

- My Angel -

sent Tuesday, 5.43 P.M.

“my lovee, im so sorry but boss just pulled me in a meeting. think its a case briefing, can we reschedule? :((“

sent Thursday, 6.14 P.M.

“sorry lovey !! rookie from forensics messed up the field report and boss is being bitchy. gonna have to move our date.“

sent Sunday, 8.22 P.M.

“dex sorry but i had to go over to rays real quick. his wife called because sammy’s sick and ray’s obviously on that mission with you. don't wait up for me.”

Dex?

Since when the fuck did you call him Dex?

He’d read this specific message over and over. Grip tight around his phone. Not just because of you forgetting the nickname, but because Dex knew Sammy wasn't sick that night. He had bumped into Ray in the locker room while the married man was facetiming his wife. His partner in justice was the only friend he had, so Dex had begrudgingly gotten into frame when Ray beckoned him over. Even shyly entertained his wife’s questions about inviting you over for dinner again. Sammy had popped into frame at the mention of you, complaining that it had been too long since you had showed off your kitchen skills.

“Can she help teach dad how to butcher a turkey properly when you guys visit again? It was like a murder scene when dad tr- Ow!” Sammy’s rambling getting cut off by a soft smack on the head.

This morning was what pulled the last thread of his sanity apart.

Dex tried not to be overcontrolling and paranoid once you had accepted his (obsessive) love, and had started sleeping over at his black and white home sometimes. But that's proving difficult now, the 2 past weeks rattling the system in his brain. The wires fraying, close to snapping.

Especially when a prime opportunity presented itself.

You were rushing to work on his off day, moving around too fast to notice your daily journal being left behind. It was unlike you to be late, but you'd been more tired lately. Yawning in the office, head drooping in meetings. You take 3 coffees now instead of 2. 5 shots of espresso now instead of 3.

Dex wonders what's been keeping you away from sleep recently. He wishes he could go back to when he was stalking you. The time he knew where you were, what you were doing throughout the night. Was sure you were safe because he kept an eye on you himself.

His fingers twitch. The urge to reach out and just read your secrets growing.

Dex is just keeping you safe.

Yes, that's right. He’s doing this for your own good.

He gives in to the voice, opening your worn journal. Flipping to the past week and checking your whereabouts.

The buzzing is back.

Tuesday :

Dunkin Donuts !!

Office - rmb to check evidence and restraining order for case #2937

The Bulletin

Pizza hut

Birch Street, Higgins Drive Apartments, #09-213

It festers at the back of his mind.

Thursday :

Jimmy’s Breakfast Stop

Office

Home Depot - supply run

Josie’s

Birch Street, Higgins Drive Apartments, #09-213

Drapes itself over his brain, darkness clouding his judgement.

Sunday :

Krispy Kreme

Office

Birch Street, Higgins Drive Apartments, #09-213 ♡

Dex can’t hear his heartbeat anymore.

He’s spiraling. The thumping of his heart clawing its way into his throat. The buzzing in his ears won't stop even when he presses his palms to his eyes. Dex is losing you. He’s lost you. So he lets that darkness guide him in the absence of your light.

The familiarity of the scene doesn't surprise Dex. Him waiting out in his car to catch a glimpse of you. It does, however, make him nauseous. He thought he had made so much progress with you. For you. And now Dex is back to stalking you from afar.

As if you hadn't looked up at him with gentle devotion.

As if you hadn't cradled his face, leaned your forehead against him in an act of sincere adoration.

As if you hadn't interlocked your hands with his. His hands that he can never truly wash the blood off of. The interlocked hands that you kissed, like you could absolve him of the blood he’s spilt.

Dex inhales sharply when he spots you. Despite his mind descending into madness, he still recognises your shape, your white dress, you. Dex checks his gun one last time. It's not for you. No, never. He could never lay a hand on you. The bullet is for the other person. Whoever that stole you from him. You couldn't have initiated this. No, no. You must have been manipulated. Yes. Yes that must be it. You were coerced into this, and Dex is here to save you. Of course he is. How could you ever live without him ? How could he ever live without you?

A total of 10 minutes has passed. Dex figures now's the time to catch you in the act. Catch his angel by the wings.

He exits the car, gun safely tucked into the side of him.

Dex calmly makes his way over to the building. Thoughts hovering in his clouded mind.

How would he do it?

Dex presses all the buttons on the intercom, someone’s always waiting for someone.

Should he do it fast, a bullet through the heart?

The buzzing of the gate mixes with the buzzing in his head, and he enters the building.

Or make it slow and painful, throw a knife into the aorta.

The elevator carrying him ascends, as Dex’s grip on reality descends.

Maybe he should …

The door is ajar, like somebody broke in.

The buzzing in Dex’s mind makes him woozy, his body moving on autopilot to reach you. Forced entry? Are you okay? Is his angel okay?

Dex nearly launches himself at the door. His knees could give out with how relieved he is to see you. But something's wrong. Your dress is red now. You're all bloody. No. No. You're injured. Someone hurt you. Someone hurt his. He moves without his body even realising. Like a machine going back to its default setting. Taking care of you. Dex nearly trips over something but he doesn't care. All that matters right now is you. His angel. He scans your face and gets the blood splatter all over his hands. He’ll kill whoever was responsible for hurting you. He’d kill himself if he was the reason for this.

But something’s not making sense. Dex can't figure out where the blood is coming from. And you don't seem hurt, distraught or even surprised that he knew where you were. In fact, you look like you're glowing. Like you're coming off from a high. Dex tries to take a step back to examine you as a whole, but he feels something beneath his shoe.

It's a hand.

The buzzing reels back, slowly unveiling his eyes.

Two hands to be exact.

It untangles the claws in his brain.

Sitting in a sea of red.

Retreats to the back of his head.

Dex flicks his eyes to the right.

To the body.

It's the reporter.

Finally, silence.

"Well I figured ... if she couldn't keep her hands to herself ... then she didn't really deserve to have them no? That should teach her a lesson to not touch what's mine".

The words falling out of your mouth should send a chill down dex’s spine. Warning bells should sound off in the back of his mind. But Dex thinks you've never been more beautiful than at this moment.

Your white dress, a canvas for the blood that's still fresh and dripping down from the hem. The bloodlust in your eyes, sparkling with hunger. Chest heaving, sweat trickling down your face from the physical exertion. Your smile is sickeningly sweet.

The clash of your voice against the image of you, like sweet little red riding hood masquerading as the wolf in the enchanted forest.

Dex removes his hold from your cheeks, letting them fall. He interlocks his fingers with yours, more blood smearing onto his hands. Bringing them close to his lips, he leans down a little. Planting a kiss to your bloody knuckles.

You were Dex’s salvation. And now he’ll be yours.

A fallen angel. His fallen angel. Dex wants to trace the scars from the wings on your back, get lost in the void of your sinful eyes. Dex would gladly fall down, down, down into the depths of depravity if it meant he could burn right alongside you.

a/n : hehe did you catch the easter egg of jessica jones's childhood home address ? hope the sprinkles of reader's true nature peeking through was easy to understand too :)

no pressure tags for beloved moots : @callsign-fangirl @kyamiia @thevillainswhore @millennialtrashjigglypuff @htchnr @monicfever @melaninjoys

#benjamin poindexter x reader #bullseye x reader #benjamin poindexter #bullseye

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 month ago

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⋆ ˚｡𖦹. rough makeup sex w/ BENJAMIN POINDEXTER 18+ fem!reader, 1.7k words. mdni !! WARNINGS. porn with a bit of plot, dex being possessive? roughness (titty slapping and light manhandling) pinv, unprotected sex. based on this request <3

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Very rarely would you keep Dex out of the loop.

Without fault, you would send him little texts to keep him up to date with your wellbeing while you were apart. He has a tendency to worry, so those small messages were a way of reassuring him that you were in fact okay and that nothing had happened to you.

It may seem controlling, but it didn’t feel that way in the slightest. In your mind, it was like you were acknowledging his illness by showing him you understand, doing what was asked of you in ways he needed to help him cope.

Though today, you failed. You were being harsh on yourself to even think that, but it’s true. You overran at work today and your phone died, the charger you keep in your bag seeming to be lost on your public commute to work.

You knew you messed up, and you were dreading coming home. It's not like you were scared or frightened, more that you couldn’t stomach looking Dex in the face having disappointed him, or rather that you couldn’t bear to see the state of the apartment following the breakdown you knew he had.

You stick your key into the hole and tentatively push the front door open, almost immediately spotting Dex sitting on the floor against the sofa — head in his hands, the box of tapes on the coffee table.

The light behind you in the corridor catches his attention and his eyes flicker up to you in the gap of the door. Like you were metaphorically and literally shining a light on Dex, being his light.

Your heart tugs at the sight and you close the door behind yourself, getting closer to Dex as he does you. You meet in the middle, somewhere near the dining table.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” you utter. “Really, I’m so so sorry.”

“Where were you?” Dex asks, tone short.

It was like he was shutting you out for the time being, unable to give you anything soft considering you just betrayed him.

“Every two hours, you know this. What if something happened to you?” he diverts from your eyes and shakes his head. “You’re supposed to text, why didn’t you?”

You follow the movement of his eyes, desperate to keep him looking at you so his mind doesn’t stray too far.

“I know,” you nod at him. “My phone died before I got a chance to tell you. Ben, really,” you slip your hands into his and give them a squeeze. “I am so sorry.”

“Where’s the charger I gave you?”

“I think someone stole it from my bag this morning.”

He pauses for a moment, threatening to ask the question he’s been pondering for these last few hours by himself.

“Were you with someone?” he questions, voice sounding accusatory.

You’d admit, that stung. That stung a lot. It hurt for him to even think that, but you knew it wasn't entirely his thought. So you shake your head at him and bite back that bit of hurt so as not to escalate things.

“No,” you lift your hands with his still entwined and bring them to your lips, pressing a kiss besides his dry-crusted bloodied knuckles. “And you know that.”

That was also true. Deep down he knew that too, just at surface level he was so filled with anger and betrayal and disappointment that it clouded any aspect of sense. He was so concentrated on the intensity of his feelings that everything else came secondary.

His eyes cast down ever so slightly to the soft, gentle act at hand, rather literally. He watches the repetitive string of kisses being seared into his hand — intently observing the kindness in the way you try to reassure him. His gaze flickers to yours and back down to your lips, the movement ever so subtle. But you caught on.

He slips his hands from yours and slides them either side of your neck, thumbs resting on the shell of your ears as he brings you into him, making you meet his lips. At first it’s gentle, delicate, like he was afraid that it wasn’t actually you standing there — that he was making it up. But when your own hands find him in a way similar to his, the doubt trickles from his mind. He can really feel you. He can feel your hands encompass his back, fingers spread wide either side of his spine.

And with that small act of touch making your presence known, it grows deeper, lips moving over the other as if time was of the essence. He tilts your head back and slips his tongue into your mouth, the kiss becoming sloppy, hungry and desperate. He walks you back clumsily, pushing you up against the wall as he begins to grab at your clothing — hastily ripping your work wear from you.

You mirror him, urgent hands sliding downwards to curl under the hem of his tee, fidgeting fingers skimming him in turn as you yank the fabric up his back, urgent to get him out of it. He breaks the kiss briefly to help you help him out of his top, though he reconnects the moment he deems possible.

One by one, your garments fall to the floor, clothing pooling around your feet until nothing but underwear remains. He moves his hands to cup under each of your breasts and gives them both a firm squeeze through your bra, movement rough like it was a physical testament as to how he feels inside. Moving a hand from your tits, he grabs the base of your throat, thumb one side, rest of his fingers on the other as he gives it a small pulse. He watches that keen look form in your eye, the glimmer that follows the manhandling act.

He directs you away from the wall and into his bedroom — walking you backwards with his hand still firm to your throat, lips yet to leave yours. The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you subsequently fall, dropping to your ass at the foot of his bed. Dex remains upright, albeit towering over you now.

Slowly, he lowers to your level, bending at the knee as he slots himself between your spread ones. His hands follow suit and now reside on the uppers of your thighs, fingers beginning to knead and paw as if he couldn’t quite help himself. He itches his body closer, tented cock behind his pants becoming all the more noticeable as it bumps up against your cunt.

And while the divots forming in your skin around his fingers was tempting, the view of your tits sitting in your bra was all the more enticing. He scoops his hands into your bra and brings out either breast, simply letting each hang and rest over the undergarment — the sight quite a favourite of his.

He closes the gap and latches onto one of your tits, hungry lips moving over your nipple as he suckles and slurps and slobbers, desperate flicking tongue accompanying the motion behind his lips. Though the other breast goes without the attention of his mouth, he uses a firm hand to satiate the loneliness: squeezing and slapping, reddening the skin more and more with each passing moment. The grabs and yanks all proof of his undeniably high drive.

You gasp at the dual sensation and curl your chest forwards, pushing yourself into Dex’s face even more. You cup the back of his head, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders as your hips begin to jolt — cunt subtly grinding against his chubbed up cock. Dex groans into your breast before he pulls away, but he can’t help but look down, look at the mess he made of your tit: nipple peaked and hard, surrounding skin sheening with his saliva.

But the ache and twitch in his dick diverts his attention from the lewd sight, and so he makes great haste unbuckling the belt of his pants — metal clicking and clanking with the fast, urgent pace.

He shoves his bottoms and boxers down in the same motion and lets the fabric encompass his knees on the floor. He then gives his dick a few pumps while you mimic a similar movement — tugging your underwear aside, hooking the edging over the mound of your pussy. Dex quickly brings the hand around his cock up to his mouth and spits in the palm, lubing up his dick.

You scooch your hips forward and then lie back, resting on elbows behind you. Dex smears the spit over his cock and guides himself closer, head knocking up against your cunt clumsily as he finds your entrance. Lifting one of his legs out from under himself, he bends it, his weight now more evenly distributed between his knee and foot — preemptively getting ahead of the support that will drive his thrusts.

He grips your hip with his free hand and guides you in to meet the slow entry of his cock, the full length of him sinking deep inside, the low groan emitting from his chest following suit. Without much warning or time to refamiliarise yourself with him, he begins rolling into you, grasp still tight on your hip as pulls you in for each of his increasingly faster thrusts.

Once a deep, structured pattern forms he’s moving his hands to other parts of your body, this time, one holding the centre gore of your bra between each tit, the other back around the base of your throat — holding and manipulating your body to better match the motion of his fucking.

“You can’t leave me,” Dex utters, voice hoarse between each pant. His eyes cast down to watch the bobbing of your body beneath him before they flicker up to your face, elongating the moment of eye contact before yours squeeze closed.

While it sounded sinister, it was anything but. Instead it was coming from a place of vulnerability, like he was voicing his concerns as he knew you’d understand them.

You wrap your hands around his wrist in front of your face, holding the thickness of his forearm sternly as if it was a way of solidifying what you were about to say, rather, blissfully murmur. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

⎯ ☆ ⎯

#thot #benjamin poindexter #ben poindexter #benjamin dex poindexter #ben poindexter x reader #dex smut #dex #bullseye #dex x reader #bullseye x reader #ben poindexter smut

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takenbypeter · 4 months ago

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My Blond Pretty Princess

Benjamin Poindexter x reader

Words: 595

A/N: got this after someone commented that Dex was their blond pretty princess in one of my posts and idk if they wanna be tagged but I thought it was adorable to call him that

Did Dex love the idea of you going with your friends to a club all by yourself? No. But did he know that it would be wrong to do anything to stop you? Yes. And while his original plan was to go with you, (just to make sure you were safe), work had to thwart his way. Fortunately he had just about finished up when his phone rang.

Your contact photo filled his screen and he paused instantly thinking the worst. Without getting too ahead of himself he picked up the phone, hearing the sound of muffled music and cars in the background. Then came your voice, “Dex!” He moved away from his phone as you practically shouted in his ear. “I miss you! I’m not having any fun without you!”

Dex’s smile grew crooked as he relished in the fact that you wanted him there. Someone missed him. And not just someone. You. “Are you still there?”

“I’m sitting outside on the curb.”

“I’ll be there soon,” is all he said before he took off. It didn’t take long for Dex to reach you. And as soon as he pulled up sure enough there you were perched on the curb.

Putting the car hazard lights on he got out and opened the passenger side before kneeling to your side.

“Hey,” he said and your head slowly turned towards him. Your eyes widened in excitement at the sight of Dex as a smile spread along your face. “Hey.”

“Are you okay? Can you stand?”

You nodded, your head began to feel heavy while you started to push yourself up off the ground. “I’m only a tiny bit tipsy but I’m fine.” Is what you said but your swaying movements that prompted him to grab your waist, proved otherwise.

With one hand around you he walks you to the car and gently sat you in the passenger seat. Only after making sure all your limbs were inside, he shut the door then joined on the other side.

The car ride home was surprisingly quiet on your end. In fact Dex was the one pulling the conversation from you.

“Did you have fun?” The question was genuine.

You shrugged, your eyes closed while your head lay against the headrest. “It was alright at first but then it just got boring, and then some people tried to join our group but I wasn’t really about that. I didn’t really want to be there with anyone except you.”

Dex’s cheeks rose at knowing that you felt the way he constantly felt. You fell quiet again but he noticed your head turn to his direction.

He kept his eyes on the road in front but could see you staring at him from his peripheral.

“What is it?”

“Do you know you’re my pretty princess?”

Dex tried his best to contain his laugh but your slurred words genuinely caught him off guard.

“I thought I was a knight in shining armor.”

“Sometimes but you’re my princess…you know why?” You waste no time in sharing the answer with him. “Cause a princess protects her kingdom and keeps it in order. She helps her people but she also needs help from a knight. That’s just like you. You protect me but sometimes you need help too.”

“So does that make you the knight?”

“Absolutely,” your word drifted off as you faced forward again and rested your head back as sleep was beginning to catch up with you.

“My blond pretty princess,” were your last words as you drifted off into la la land.

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thevillainswhore · 3 months ago

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Familiar Ghosts

Pairing: Dark!Benjamin Poindexter x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: How you thought you could end your relationship with Dex was a mystery to him. Didn’t you know he would always come back for you? Didn’t you know that you belonged to him?

Warnings: Ex-boyfriend!dex, toxicity, dark content, stalking, smut, dubious consent, a little somnophillia?, oral (fem receiving)

Author’s Note: divider by @saradika-graphics. hi!! very very nervous to post this, but the hyper fixation of bullseye has been strong and I can’t get him out of my head. Hope you enjoy x

Benjamin Poindexter. A veteran soldier. A former FBI agent. And most recently, your ex-boyfriend.

It had been a volatile breakup. Dex was intense, while you were breezy and happy-go-lucky. Where you were outgoing, Dex was a fortress of solitude, who put you on a pillar of excellence. He made you a deity. Something so spiritually powerful it scared you. In Dex’s eyes, you could do no wrong. He would follow you to the ends of the earth if it was what you wished.

His expectations weren’t attainable. Dex spoke of you as though you belonged with the higher powers religion based their ideals upon. He treated you like a fallen angel, simply too beautiful for this world.

Dex was fervent in his adoration of you, in making you a pinnacle of his life. It was in the way he catalogued your facial expressions as they flashed across your face, knowing how you felt before you did. Like he could read your mind. It was proven in the obsession of keeping you safe, making sure he knew where you were at all times. He’d spend any spare moments he had with you, because as he had put it so many times, he felt like he couldn’t breathe without you.

That’s why you had ended it, you had told him.

For you, it became too much.

You had tried so delicately to end the relationship. With sweet words and appreciation of the time spent together. But Dex had taken it like a bullet to the heart no matter how honeyed your apologies poured out. His eyes had darkened, his breaths had become unsteady, his fists had tightened against the upholstery of your sofa.

Dex was a storm, ready to wreak total

destruction. And you weren’t ready for it.

Your first mistake was leaving your window open.

Naive as you were, it worked out in Dex’s favour. Of course, he could’ve entered your apartment whether you took better care to lock up or not. Though, you made it a hell of a lot easier for him to gain access and for that, he was grateful.

See, Dex told himself internally. She does care about you. She’s still thinking of you. She’s practically letting you in.

It was simple enough for Dex to explain away the doubts lingering in his mind. His moral compass wasn’t broken, you just made it work better. You guided him. Just like you paved the way for him to enter your home while you were sleeping.

The invitation was there.

And how you looked so beautiful, chest slowly rising and falling. The silk of your camisole melted into your skin, the white material clinging to the curves of your breasts as your nipples stood to attention. It was a sight for sore eyes.

Luckily, Dex’s eyes had seen too many horrors and you were the balm to heal his wounds.

The day you left him, Dex felt not only his heart shatter, but also his mind. You were his buoy in an open endless sea, a beacon in the night calling him home to safety. And a man so reliant on his North Star, who was suddenly deprived of that shining light, was a dangerous one.

Frayed nerves. Destructive tendencies. A whole lot to lose.

It was unfair. An injustice of Dex’s love you’d so easily tossed aside.

But it was okay. Dex wasn’t angry. You were just confused. Taken aback by the sincerity of his affections and how deeply they ran. You weren’t used to it, always settling for less than you deserved.

Men hadn’t always been kind to you. He’d know of course. Dex had always watched over you. He couldn’t remember what life was like before you graced him with your presence.

So it was time for Dex to prove that he knew what you needed. What was best for you.

Your second mistake was your choice in nightwear.

It wasn’t anything different to what you’d usually wear on a night where the breeze danced through the voils of your window, goosebumps echoing along your soft skin.

But how silly of you to leave yourself so uncovered when Dex had warned you an inconsequential amount of times about the monsters that lurked in the night.

Luckily, you needn’t worry. Dex would always be around to protect you.

Stood in your bedroom, Dex inhaled. Honey and caramel incense, the lotion you lathered into your body after a shower. How he’d missed it dearly. How he could drown in your scent and drag you with him to keep you for eternity.

It had been too long. A lifetime without you it felt. The muscle in his jaw ticked while he watched you rest so peacefully. Why weren’t you itching with unease in the middle of the night like he was? How could you be so content without him by your side?

It wouldn’t do. Dex needed you to crave him as he did you. He needed you to feel the same raw ache that had created a hole in his chest.

Footsteps light, Dex crept towards the edge of your bed, sheets wrapped around you lightly. You were a deep sleeper, your situational awareness on mute in the early hours.

It was why the phantom touch of his fingers, ghosting over the inside of your upper thigh went unnoticed by you.

Plump. Buttery. So damn delicate. A shudder ran down Dex’s spine. His first touch of you in a while. Like an addict finally reuniting with its downfall.

Trails of constellations etched into your skin by Dex’s fingertips, each manoeuvre carefully crafted in his head. He swallowed roughly, his mind was finally starting to quieten.

Becoming more comfortable, Dex’s hands grew more desperate, more inclined to grasp instead of trace. To squeeze rather than brush.

It was no surprise that he was quick to lift the sheets covering your form, hiding your beauty away from him. Your legs were already spread apart slightly and so resting his palms in the divot behind each of your knees, Dex opened you up further, revealing the absence of any underwear as the camisole rode up your body.

They’re so uncomfortable, Ben. I need to feel free while I’m sleeping, you know? Dex could hear the sweet melody of your voice replaying back to him in his own head. He had appreciated it back then, how you so effortlessly bent to his will when his hand smoothed over your bare hip. How pliable you became when his cock found itself growing hard against the rump of your ass and begged for your tight, warm hole to accommodate him.

And so how he appreciated it now, no barrier to keep him away; no unnecessary layer to stop him from reclaiming what was rightfully his.

It was almost like you knew Dex would come back.

Swallowing the saliva that was rapidly gathering over his tongue, Dex swallowed. The pretty sight of your soft folds, framed with the trimmed hair over your pubic bone overwhelmed him. He had gone without you for so long.

Dex gently secured his hands in the crease between your thigh and crotch on each side of your legs, his thumbs naturally resting next to your hole. He couldn’t help but smile when you shifted, your pussy twitching as though to say welcome home.

Your slumber wouldn’t last long, Dex knew that — not with what he came to do. But he was tired of holding back, riddled with restlessness the longer he held out.

And he had reached the end of his tether. The band had snapped.

Wasting no more time, Dex rested himself on his stomach between your legs, opening your pussy up to him, and finally burying his nose into your sex to breathe you in.

“Fuck,” Dex’s voice was a growl in the calm night. “You smell just as good as I remember.”

From then, Dex’s focus was infiltrated. No longer did the honking cars outside your apartment cause him to grind his teeth. No more did the harsh lights of the city billboards make his eyes sting with harshness. In that moment, Dex’s mind liquefied in the recesses of the heaven between your thighs. His alter.

His arms tightened around your legs, hands rested against your stomach as his tongue rolled over your sex. Reunited at last.

Dex groaned into you, the harsh sound no doubt vibrated against you. It didn’t matter that your muscles jumped in awareness or if your chest began to heave, nothing would stop him now.

Even as he started to grind himself against the mattress without shame, Dex still held the immaculate precision of his tongue lathering over your folds, the tip flicking against what he knew was your sensitive clit.

While his body may well be greedy, he was at least loyal to a fault — destined to always belong to you.

“B-Ben?” Your voice trembled and oh, how Dex loved you all the more for it. “Is that you?”

Dex sighed contentedly. You still knew his touch. “Yeah. It’s me, sweetheart.”

He felt the muscles in your legs become more stiff all of a sudden. “What—What are you doing—?” Though you tried to sound accusatory, your exclamations couldn’t help but be airy — light with what could only be pleasure. “H-How did you even get in?”

“Shh. Don’t worry about that. Just relax, you’re safe with me.”

Dex continued his motions, beginning to suction his lips around your engorged clit while he held you tight when you began to squirm.

Your breaths came out more panicked, more rushed. You tried to get away. “Ben, I don’t—This isn’t right, please stop—“

“You don’t want that.” Dex pressed kisses over the meat of your thighs. “You want me. You can’t hide it, just look how much you’re showing me you need this.”

Because while you may have tried to run away, your body remembered Dex perfectly. You couldn’t shy away from the wetness leaking out of your pulsing hole. Couldn’t ignore how your juices had coated the skin of Dex’s chin.

And as much as you tossed and turned, attempting to shake off the physical hold Dex had on you, you hadn’t even realised how you began to follow his mouth. How your hips gyrated in rhythm with each stroke of his tongue, purring for more.

“No—,” tears rolled down your cheeks in rivulets, your head shaking from side to side against the pillow. “Ben, stop—“

“You thought you could just leave me, huh? Thought you could call it quits and end us?” Your cries went ignored as Dex became more cruel with each suck, his fingers beginning to circle your entrance. “That’s not the way this works, sweetheart. You're mine.”

Your thighs began to shake just as Dex pushed two fingers in at once, merciless and brutal, until his knuckles sat against you.

“Always have been.”

Beginning to grind them, Dex curved his fingers against your walls, making sure to hit the spot he hadn’t forgotten.

“Always will be.”

He was ruthless, brutal with each undulation of his fingers, barely removing them from your pussy. You couldn’t even keep your whimpers down, each whine and moan like ecstasy to Dex.

Maybe it was unorthodox to gift you enough pleasure that you would forget any previous hesitancy. To make you remember how good you had it with Dex. But he didn’t care enough to let it hold space in his mind.

Dex would do whatever it took to get you back.

He looked up at you, hair tousled, eyes wide with fear and yet a spark of something else.

It was your third mistake to unveil the shy excitement in your eyes.

Your body still shook, your nervous system rewiring itself as your walls contracted around his fingers with the upcoming gratification of an orgasm. But beneath the terror, the horror of Dex’s actions, he could see behind the fog, to the exhilaration and eager anticipation digging its talons into you.

You were made for him.

Benjamin Pointdexter may have haunted you.

Benjamin Pointdexter’s love may have suffocated you.

But in the midst of clawing your way back for breath, you enjoyed the feel of his scratches marking you. Dex knew it.

Dex knew you.

And as fire burned its way through your veins with your release, Dex’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. Drinking you in like he was dehydrated and you were the water he needed to survive.

Your stomach caved in, barely able to inhale any air with how powerful your orgasm was. It was seconds after your muscles finally had a chance to relax before Dex crawled his way up your body, his clothes somehow already shedded and neatly folded upon the chair, and kissed away the tracks still staining your cheeks from your tears while his bare cock bobbed against your pussy.

Eerily calm, Dex whispered, “You’re not leaving me again. Do you understand?”

He watched intently as your throat constricted around the lump in your throat. “Yes, Ben. I-I promise. I’m sorry.”

Stroking your hair, Dex smiled, already edging the tip of his cock to rest upon your weeping entrance. “Good. Because you can’t escape me, sweetheart. I love you too much to let you go.”

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kruegerspillow · 21 days ago

Text

former friend ; benjamin poindexter

creator's note: mmm, not a continuation of the worth waiting for series but i really, really needed to get this out of my drafts, sorry LMAO. this was actually the initial plan for the dex series but i wanted a slower burn, so...

warnings: dark themes, unprotected sex, messy couch sex, creampie, slightly submissive dex, unhealthy relationship, codependency, reader is kind of mean here, ddba spoilers, unhealthy fixations, not proofread.

word count: 3.4k

You sat down on your couch, placing the bowl of cereal down onto the glass table. Your hand reached for the TV remote, clicking it back to life before searching through the channel. Trying to find a distraction, some kind of way to kill time.

Then? The news flashed. Former FBI, Benjamin Poindexter, found guilty of eleven counts of first-degree murder during the attack on Josie's bar, had escaped from custody.

Your fingers froze around the remote. The screen blared with chaos: grainy footage of flashing red and blue lights, helicopters circling above rooftops, a blurred image that might've been him darting into an alley, and then the anchor’s voice again—

"Authorities are urging residents to remain calm but vigilant. Poindexter is considered armed and extremely dangerous. If seen, do not approach. Contact law enforcement immediately."

You stared at the screen.

Then muted it.

The cereal went soggy in the bowl, untouched.

It wasn't shock that settled in your chest. Not really. Not the kind they were hoping the public would feel. Not fear, either.

You'd known this was coming. Felt it in your spine for weeks—some pressure building, tight as a wire being pulled just before it snapped. A whisper under your skin. And now that it was real, now that his name had been spoken again on national television like a ghost summoned into existence, something else stirred deep inside you.

Your brows furrowed, fingers squeezing the remote before you threw it aside. Your back bent forward, eyes stuck onto the shining screen.

The world had gone quiet after Dex had been sent to Rikers Island. No one really showed up on your doorstep beaten or bloodied. You didn't have to patch anyone after a rough fight. You didn't have to worry about cleaning his blood off of the floor or the bathroom mirror.

Now? He was back.

The man who was once your colleague, your friend, your partner in the FBI—became unrecognizable.

He had unraveled before your eyes, thread by thread, until all that remained was something sharp-edged and wrong. A man who couldn't stop spiraling. A man who didn't want to be saved anymore.

And you? You'd realized it too late.

You leaned back on the couch, rubbing your jaw. The cushions groaned under your weight, too soft for a moment like this. Everything about this apartment suddenly felt too still.

Your eyes drifted back to the screen. That flicker of footage—was it him? The grainy blur had his height, that frantic, focused gait. You could almost hear it in your head, the way his boots used to hit pavement when he was zeroed in on something. Back then, it was justice. Back then, it was you at his side.

The news anchor was already moving on to the next story, something about rising temperatures and a heat wave sweeping across the state. You didn’t care. You couldn’t even hear her voice through the mute.

Your mind was buzzing.

He escaped.

Your apartment felt smaller all of a sudden. Like the walls were inching closer. You stood, walked over to the window, and parted the blinds. The street was empty. Still. Too still.

You scanned rooftops. Dark corners. Your fingers flexed by your side, remembering the old rhythm of your sidearm even though it hadn’t left the drawer in months.

A sick little part of you—buried deep, locked down like a vault—had missed him.

Not the Dex the world saw now. Not the one in the footage. But the man he'd been before. The man who watched your six in every raid. Who knew your coffee order. Who cracked his knuckles when he was nervous and tilted his head when he was listening, really listening.

The man who used to sit beside you in your car, stained in sweat and adrenaline, and say, "You trust me, right?"

And you always had.

Until he stopped giving you reasons to.

Your phone buzzed on the table. A text.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Missed you.

Buzz. Buzz.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: You changed your locks. Again. UNKNOWN NUMBER: Why? You know I'd never hurt you.

Your stomach churned.

You didn't need to know who it was. You didn't need to hear his voice.

You knew.

You paused for a moment, as if your brain was assessing this whole situation. Your fingers gripped the phone hard, filled with frustration and something else beneath all the rage.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, tension rippling through your forearm like electricity just beneath the skin. You could block the number. You could call someone—call them. Report it. Let them trace it. Let them find him.

But you didn't.

Instead, you stared. Long enough that the text thread auto-closed and the screen dimmed.

Your breath felt shallow.

He was close.

You knew it the same way you'd known the second you first saw him unravel years ago, that moment when the mask cracked and you caught a glimpse of the void behind his eyes. The same knowing that settled in your bones now—like gravity tilting toward a center that had always been him.

The silence in your apartment didn't last.

Three slow knocks at your bedroom window.

Not loud. Not frantic. Like he already knew you were listening. Like he already knew you were going to open it.

You didn't move at first. You just stood there, back stiff, phone screen reflecting off the glass of the living room window. He could be anyone now. You hadn't seen him in years, and last time, he’d been in restraints.

But somehow, you knew—he hadn’t changed that much.

Three more knocks. Closer this time, like he'd leaned in. Like maybe his forehead was pressed against the glass, the way it used to be when he needed you to open up. When he needed you to see him.

You swallowed hard, walked to the bedroom. Saw him outside the window, still in tactical gear. His mask was slightly tilted up, revealing the lower part of his face. His lips. The tip of his nose.

You didn't open it—not yet. Just walked closer to the glass.

"Dex," you murmured.

Silence. A breath. Then, his voice—low, hoarse, ragged like it’d been scraped against pavement.

"I missed your voice."

Your fingers curled into a fist. His voice did something to you—something you hated yourself for. Something hot and dizzy and heavy with memory. He looked at you through the glass.

"This... is insane." you said. It came out steady, despite the pulse hammering in your neck.

"I know."

"You killed innocents."

Another beat of silence. Then, "Yeah."

You huffed, jaw clenching. "Then what do you want from me?"

The pause this time was longer. Then came the whisper, the kind that crawled under your skin.

"I want to come home."

Your hand trembled.

"You're in the wrong place."

Another pause. Then a quiet chuckle. "Yeah. I figured you'd say that."

One of his gloved hands pressed against the window, his breath fogging the glass up.

"You don't have to open it," he said, quieter now. "I just wanted to hear your voice. Just once. That's all."

He didn’t mean it. You knew he didn’t mean it.

Because he was always starving. For touch, for attention, for something he could never quite hold. For you.

And somewhere deep inside, no matter how many months had passed, you were still tangled up in him—cut on the same sharp edges.

And then—

The window rattled slightly.

It was locked. But he was testing it.

"Dex." Your voice was a warning now.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he said, and fuck—it sounded true. Not performative. Not rehearsed. Just tired. Raw. Like if you opened the door, he might finally fall apart for good.

"...I don't believe you."

A soft sound on the other side—maybe a breath, maybe a sigh. Then.

"I don't blame you."

You stood there, eyes locked onto the silhouette of him—barely visible beyond the pane, but close enough that your mind could fill in the details. The scar on his cheek. The way his shoulders curved forward when he was on the verge of shutting down. All of it came rushing back like muscle memory.

Your pulse wouldn’t slow down. Neither would he.

"I don't blame you," he repeated, voice gentler this time. "But you know me better than anyone else ever will. So you know I'm not gonna walk away."

The words were so quiet they almost didn't make it through the glass. But you heard them. You felt them, too—in that place under your ribs that still ached when you thought of him.

"Jesus Christ, Dex." You whispered, "this is fucked up. You know it is. Are you just—waiting for me to open the door for you? Again?"

"Well, I'm not gonna break in," he murmured, but his hand stayed pressed against the window, palm flat, fingers splayed wide like he was testing the shape of you through the glass. "I could've. You know I could've."

You did.

"Then, what? You're just trying to...test the waters? See if I still accept you? Let you in?"

"No, I..." he breathed. "I don't know what I'm doing either."

For a second, the streetlights outside flickered, shadows shifting across his face. His eyes—hazel, cold, and rimmed with something like exhaustion—stared right through you.

"I’m not here to start a fight." His lips twitched, like he wanted to smile but forgot how. "I’m here 'cause you're all I remember."

You crossed your arms, gaze falling away from him. Your stomach twisted, heartbeat unsteady beneath all the composed look. The air in the room was thick, heavy, like humidity before a storm.

His hand dropped from the glass, but he didn’t move away. He just stood there, shoulders slumped, breathing shallow.

"You still eat Frosted Flakes for dinner when you're stressed?" he asked, voice soft, almost playful.

Your jaw flexed.

He must’ve seen the bowl on the table.

"That's... not your business anymore."

His breath fogged the window again, but this time he laughed—a soft, bitter sound, like he hated himself for still knowing you this well.

"Yeah," he rasped. "But you used to be my business."

You didn't have a reply for that.

For a long moment, neither of you said a word. The quiet stretched thin between you, like a thread about to snap.

Then—

His head tilted. That old movement. The one from back when he was still human to you.

"You're the only person I got left." His voice cracked—just barely. "I don't wanna hurt you. I don't. But I'm not… I'm not right without you. You know that. You know that I love you."

You closed your eyes for a second, tried to push down the ache that bloomed in your chest.

"Fuck." You cursed underneath your breath, "Christ, this isn't love, Dex..."

"I know," he breathed. "It's worse."

Your stomach dropped.

He shifted closer to the window, forehead resting against the glass now. You could see the tension in his jaw, the tremble in his lips. Like maybe he was holding something back. Like maybe this was him—stripped down, no mask, no armor, just the hollowed-out pieces that still looked for you in the dark.

"I'm tired," he whispered. "I'm so fucking tired."

You wanted to hate him. You wanted to slam the blinds shut, call someone, let them come and take him away.

But you couldn’t move.

His voice was still inside you. Deep down. Like a splinter under the skin.

"You're gonna turn yourself in," you finally whispered, but your voice cracked halfway through.

His eyes met yours. There was something sharp in them—like he was weighing his options. Like maybe he would, just to make you happy. Or maybe he wouldn't, just to see if you'd stop him.

Instead, he said,

"Let me in. Just for tonight."

Your throat closed up.

"I can't."

"You can."

"No, Dex. I—"

His gloved hand pressed once more against the glass. Soft.

"Just—just for a few hours," he whispered. "I won't sleep. I won’t touch you. I just…"

He trailed off, breathing harder now.

"I just need to be in the same room as you again."

You swallowed hard. Nails digging into your palm. Because you knew what this was. This wasn't just a fugitive on your doorstep. This wasn't just a man with blood on his hands.

This was the part of you that never stopped missing him, standing in the cold, asking to come home.

And fuck—you didn't know if you were strong enough to say no.

Not tonight.

You let him in.

God help you, you unlocked the window, slid it up slowly while your heart rams into your ribs. He ducked through the frame like it's nothing, like this is normal. Like you didn't just let a killer crawl back into your life at two in the morning.

He lands light on his feet, standing in the hush of your bedroom, eyes locked onto you like you're the last light in the world. His shoulders twitch, his jaw flexes. You can tell he's trying so fucking hard to behave.

And you hoped he does.

For a second, you think—maybe—this is going to stay manageable.

But it’s Dex. You should've known better.

Fifteen minutes later, he was sitting on your living room floor, back against the couch where your legs were tucked underneath you. His tactical gear was half-off now, stripped down to the black undershirt he always wore under Kevlar. His eyes were closed. His head tipped back, resting on your knee.

You should push him off. You should make him leave.

But you didn't.

Because the truth is—his weight feels good against you. Familiar. Dangerous in the way that makes your pulse kick.

"I missed this," he murmured, barely audible.

You stay silent.

His hand twitches—just a flinch at first, fingers curling against his own thigh. But then he turns his face into your leg, lips ghosting the fabric of your sweats. A breath. A brush of heat.

"Dex," you warned, throat tight.

"I know," he breathed. "I know."

But he didn't stop.

Because he was shaking now. Not from fear, not from cold—from needing. He drags in a breath like he was drowning, like the air won't get in unless it’s wrapped in you.

And then—slow, soft—he tilts his head up. His lips press against your knee, your thigh, the curve of your hip. Little grazes of mouth that make your skin catch fire under the fabric.

"I said you could stay," you gritted out, "not—"

"I'm sorry," he rasped, voice breaking. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

But he kissed you again anyway.

Up your side. Over your ribs. Gentle, desperate little touches that felt more like confessions than kisses. He wasn't thinking about consequences. He wasn't thinking about escape routes or next steps. He was thinking about you. About how your body fits against his. About how he was starved for this—for you—worse than for food or rest or safety.

Your hand sank into his hair.

Maybe you should’ve shoved him off right then. Push him out of the door. Walked away.

But you didn't.

Because you were just as sick as he was.

His breath hitched when your fingers curled at the back of his neck. His shoulders loosened—not relief, not really. More like surrender. Like something in him uncoiled the second you touched him. His lips dragged over your hipbone, heat seeping through thin fabric, his breath coming out ragged.

"We shouldn't—" you started, but it was already too late.

Dex’s hands slipped under your sweats, cold gloves peeled away, fingers bare now—warm, shaking as they found your skin. His mouth pressed harder, teeth barely grazing the waistband before he exhaled sharp against your stomach.

"I know, I know, baby," he whispered.

Neither could you.

Your sweatpants came off fast—sloppy, no finesse, just Dex fumbling like he was afraid you’d change your mind halfway through. Like he'd die if you did. His eyes flicked up, pupils blown wide, mouth parted like he was dizzy from just looking at you.

"Fuck," he whispered, almost reverent. "Fuck, you're—"

He breathed.

"Perfect."

Perfect. It was filled with some kind of sick obsession. Worship. That word should've made you hit him. Should've made you shove him back out the window and bolt it shut.

But you didn't.

Instead, you leaned into it. Into him. Into the wreckage of it all.

He shoved his undershirt up over his ribs, tugging at it like he couldn’t breathe in it anymore. Scars stretched pale under the moonlight, the ones you remembered patching up, the ones you'd kissed once before he lost his mind.

His hands ghosted up your thighs, thumbs pressed tight like he was trying to memorize the feel of you again.

And then he was there—pushing into you, no warning, no prep, just the blunt heat of his cock splitting you open in one hard, frantic shove.

"Jesus—Dex," you hissed, eyes squeezing shut as your back hit the couch.

He whimpered—whimpered—into your shoulder, burying his face there like he could hide from how bad he needed this. From how wrong it was.

He was shaking, teeth scraping your neck as he bottomed out. Bare just skin on skin, slick and filthy. You could feel everything—every twitch, every drag of him inside you. Hot, messy, raw.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, but he didn't stop. Couldn't.

His hips rocked, small at first, like he was trying to keep it gentle—but his body betrayed him. He fucked into you fast, frantic, like he couldn't slow down, like his life depended on it.

You could feel the sweat sliding off his temple, his pulse racing against your throat.

"God, baby—" his voice cracked, pathetic in your ear. "I missed you. Missed you so fuckin' bad—"

Your hand stayed in his hair, pulling just enough to make him whine into your neck. His cock twitched inside you at the sound of his own need.

"Need... need you," you whispered, your thighs locking tighter around him, pulling him in deeper.

"I know," he breathed, voice barely holding together. "I know, I know—"

The wet slap of skin echoed in the room, sharp and fast, sweat slick between you both. It was frantic, ugly sex—nothing soft about it. Just desperation. Just two people drowning together because neither one could swim without the other.

His mouth trembled against your jaw. His cock throbbed, already close. He'd gotten too worked up too fast—he always did. His hips stuttered, rhythm breaking.

"Nnh—fuck, I'm—"

You came first, feeling yourself tip over the edge as he continued. You clenched around him hard, watching his body break for you.

His head snapped back, mouth falling open in a raw, silent cry. His stomach jerked tight, cock pulsing inside you, spilling hot, messy. Too much—his cum leaking out as he kept fucking into it, making it worse. Intensifying every move.

"F-fuck—" he gasped, still moving, overstimulating himself with every desperate thrust. His voice cracked, almost a sob. "Feel s'good..."

You gripped his shoulders tighter.

"Dex," you murmured, your voice too soft.

His face twisted, wrecked and open and softer than it should’ve been. His hips stuttered again, another shaky pulse of cum spilling inside you like he needed to mark you, to ruin you so you wouldn’t send him back out into the dark.

And you let him.

You let him ruin you.

A few moments of silence passed. The room no longer had the sound of skin against each other, only the sound of your breaths mixing in together.

He didn't pull out immediately, not yet. He stayed buried inside of you, head nuzzled into the crook of your neck as he pressed a trail of wet kisses down your neck. His mouth lingered against your pulse, teeth scraping your skin.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, and he groaned.

"Fuck, I'm in trouble." You grunted underneath your breath.

He leaned back, just enough to see your eyes once again. The corners of his lips twitched into a small smile, and his eyes weren't empty anymore. Not fully. He breathed, the gears inside of his head turning.

"I am in trouble." He quipped. An attempt to lighten the mood up.

A beat. Then another.

Dex could feel himself getting even more nervous by the second.

You looked at him, chest heaving up and down before you shifted away from him.

You wheezed, "un-fucking-believable."

"Hey, wait—I was just joking."

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shadowbriar · 4 months ago

Text

Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter — Your Initial

Synopsis: After one too many mistakes, too many sour outcomes he had to bring to the boss' door, Dex knew that the thin safetynet he thought he was under was just a mere imagination.

wrote this on my phone cause I'm out on a trip. will fix each and every mistake once I get my hands on a laptop.

Dex' hands roam around her body as if they haven't travelled every inch of her skin. His kisses were desperate, needy, and more vigorous with every pause of breath he took. His figure pins her against the shelves, doing its best to eliminate as much space as possible. The storage room was crammed enough as it is, but even with the close proximity, there seems to be planets between them, still.

His head was pounding. The ringing in his ears would only grow even louder with each text he received from the Kingpin. He knew that he's messed up. Too many tasks left unfinished, targets slipped, and businesses unsealed, that it would only be a matter of time until he gets some disciplinary action. Until he would become another name in Fisk's list. Until he, or worse, she, would become the one chased by the crosshair.

At first, Dex revels in the power he gained when Fisk scouted him. He enjoyed the freedom he had, standing above the law as he unleashed the worst kinds of horror to anyone he needed to take care of. But after one too many mistakes, too many sour outcomes he had to bring to the boss' door, he knew that the thin safetynet he thought he was under was just a mere imagination.

There's nobody he could turn to, no enforcement that he could seek help from cause everything was owned by Fisk. Everyone works for him, whether or not they realise it.

"Dex, hey," she calls softly between their kisses, her giggles trailing her voice "I'm not going anywhere, we can take a breath for a minute,"

He forces a smile, "Why, you don't enjoy my kisses?"

"On the contrary, I adore them a lot," she replies, resting her hands around his neck as she takes a soft peck to the tip of his nose "which is why I'd very much prefer to savour it,"

Dex nods, placing a kiss to her forehead.

She watches him intently. The hue under his eyes was looking more noticeable. Fatigue was dripping out of him, and that displeased frown was etched on his lips. Something was bothering him.

"Trouble sleeping?" she begins to ask, her fingers combed through the blond strands of his hair "has Hattley been giving you a hard time?"

"You can say that," Dex sighs, leaning into her gentle touch "there's this.. task, that I keep on failing, and I'm pretty sure they're going to hang me by the neck if I fail again the next time,"

"What kind of task?"

He chuckles, shaking his head, "You know I can't tell you, it's confidential,"

"You and your mysteries," rolling her eyes, she comments with a slight frown "you know, maybe it'll make you feel better to shine light on some of these secrets,"

He remains silent, watching her with no expression.

"Starting with us, maybe? We can stop going to storage rooms and just.. you know, be a normal couple out in the day," she coaxes, her finger now travels down to his undereye, gently caressing the bags that were more visible than the usual "maybe that'll give your mind a little more peace?"

Dex lets out an exasperated sigh. The muscles on his jaws were tensed now, veins more visible on his forehead. He was conflicted. He knew just how much it meant for her, to be out in public with their relationship, but it would only serve as putting bounty on her head. At this point, he couldn't even be too sure that their relationship was still a business of two. With Fisk's eyes on every corner and Murdock's alien abilities, Dex could only do so much to try and keep her under wraps.

Silently, he places his hands on her cheeks. The gesture was firm and a little authoritative, but she remains silent and follows his lead. He eyes her straight, a total contrast to the gentle and uncertain stare she gives back at him.

"I love you," he begins, his tone dogmatic as if it was a universal fact "I would burn the world to the ground, if it means saving you. If it means keeping you safe from all those filth on the street. There is no one, and I mean by no one, that I would not sacrifice for you,"

Her brows knit, confused as to how their conversation could take such a turn.

"I just— With everything going on, Fisk on that hotel, Daredevil going rampant, I just don't think putting us out there would do us good,"

"What does Fisk and Daredevil have to do with us?" she questions, clearly at lost on what he's trying to say "if you're worried about my safety, I have my gun with me at all times, and I doubt I'll be in any of their priority list. I'm just a nobody,"

"But you're not a nobody to me, and I'm not willing to take that risk," he argues adamantly "look, we can have this discussion some other time, okay? Not now,"

It was obvious that she has more words to spill, more arguments to give, but the despair Dex shows was a little too concerning for her to prolong the discussion, so she surrenders with a nod. Forcing a smile and placing a kiss to his cheek to help untangle the tension on his muscles.

Dex smiles a little, showing gratitude for the gentle gesture before his lips find their way back to her neck, "What's your plan tonight?"

"I don't know, nothing on the schedule yet," she answers.

"How does a dinner date, sound? Been a while since we visited that favourite restaurant of yours,"

"Yeah? Tonight?" she asks, intrigued "wouldn't they call you to watch over Fisk?"

Dex pauses his kisses, lips pursed as he gives it a thought, "They haven't called me for anything, so I should be free for the night," he pulls her closer by the waist, the corners of his lips turning upwards as that gleeful grin returns to her face "so, what do you say?"

"Pick me up at seven?"

He nods, his finger reaches to the 'D' initial hanging on her neck that he got her a couple months back, "You got it, Princess,"

—-

Dex' hair was dishevelled. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, eyes bloodshot from the panic that's starting to poison his veins. He knew that he's jabbed on the beast a little too frequently lately, but he never would have imagined that he needed to fix everything now.

The stoic welcome in Fisk's tone was gone when he entered the suite. There was a sense of disapproval in the superior's expression, a little more firmness in the order he's given that it shook all the confidence Dex has left in himself. As if there was a silent hidden message that he should understand: last chance, or he's out for good.

Now Dex may never fear for his safety. He's far more capable to eliminate anyone, let alone defend himself, but with Fisk and all the bidding he's done for him, Dex couldn't be certain of the degree his boss would be willing to commit should he make another mistake tonight. And with her in the equation, he knew that there could never be a risk small enough to overlook.

And so he remained quiet when Fisk gave him the mission to go to the abandoned building on the other side of town. There, on the twenty-second floor, he would find a parcel in the middle of the empty ballroom. The parcel itself was of nothing. His main objective was to neutralise Matt Murdock who would be on the move to get his hands on the parcel first and bring his head to Fisk.

There was some knot tightening in his stomach, telling him that something wasn't right when there's a whole meeting with Fisk's past allies downtown. Every criminal, every drug lords that has ever worked with Fisk would be in that building and Dex knew just how crucial it is for his boss to strengthened his crew. Most of the bureau agents are sent to secure the event, and he was fairly certain that he would be called last minute to add another layer of protection for the meeting, yet here he was, running back to his apartment to get the daredevil suit before having to run to the other side of town.

His thumb dials for her number the moment he gets to his apartment. It was 6:24. There would be no chance for him to followup with that dinner now and the last thing he needs to wrap the night with is standing her up for a date he initiated.

"Hey, Princess," Dex greets when his call went straight to voice mail "listen, I think we have to do a raincheck with that dinner tonight. Something came up with Fisk and I can't bail myself out. I'm really sorry, I'll make it up to you, okay? Call me back when you get this. Bye,"

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should send another voice message just to tell her that he loves her. Something about today makes him want to say it a million times more than yesterday. Neither of them were ever this clingy. The word typically only roll out of their tongues when they were dancing on the bed, but there's this urge to be more vocal about what he feels for her today. A certain kind of need that he was never familiar with. And if Dex was an honest man, he'd admit that this feeling scares him shitless.

Pushing his pride aside, he types in for one last text before he opens his safe and put the daredevil suit on.

I love you, call me back. D

—-

When Matt got to the abandoned building, his confusion only grew bigger as the ticking he heard from the parcel was just of a decoy. It was just some cheap electrical circuit with materials of a bomb yet none of the circuits were connected to each other. Next to it was a gold necklace with the initial D. It evidently belongs to someone as the perfume of its owner was still strong on the item, yet Matt couldn't recall anyone who wears such personalised scent.

Before Matt could give his ponder a little more time, Dex' throw of a blade nearly hit the back of his head had he not move in time. The two men then begin to entangle themselves into a real fight, kicking the parcel and its content during their commotion.

Dex' punches were getting more and more violent. His scream animalistic and the beating of his heart was so erratic Matt wonders if it would give in first before he could actually knock the phoney vigilante down.

"You smell like her," Matt notes when he got a whiff of the scent from Dex.

"Who?" Dex asks but his tone was more of a demand. From the corner of his eye, he could see something gleaming under his foot. The gold necklace was reflecting the dim light of the building and when he picked the item up, Dex blood went cold "how did you get this?"

"It was in the box with that fake bomb," Matt answers through his cough of blood.

Dex grabbed him by the collar, spitting on his face, "I swear to God if you touch her—"

"It was in the box," Matt repeats, his tone steady and unwavering "It was Fisk,"

Dex dropped Matt to the ground with a loud thud. He takes a few steps back, letting the new information to sink in. The necklace dangling by his hand feels heavier by the second. Every horrific scenarios start to play in his head. What was the necklace doing here? How did Fisk get it? What's happened to her?

Abandoning his mission, Dex frantically runs out of the building. He couldn't care less about failing another task, about facing the consequence of his ill-delivered results. He tosses the daredevil helmet away as he jumps into his car. He rummages his bag, desperately trying to find his phone as he ignites the vehicle.

"Pick up, baby, pick up," he desperately prays as his foot steps on the gas.

"Dex? Hi, I was just—"

"Where are you?" he cuts in, yelling at her in panic "tell me, where the hell are you right now?!"

"I'm at the town business meeting thing with everyone else," she explains, her voice slightly distorted from the bad signal "The whole bureau was sent to secure this meeting. I was just about to call you cause Hattley said you should be here too. Where are you?"

"Baby, listen to me, okay? I want you to listen to me carefully, get out of that damn building, okay? I'm on my way there, I'll be there in a minute just— Get out of that building now,"

A confused scoff escaped her lips, brows now furrowed from the illogical demand he was making, "What are you talking about? I'm literally in charge of the main event, I can't just leave the building,"

"They put you— What?"

"I know, it's crazy. It should've been Ramirez, but Hattley said he's needed elsewhere so they appointed me last minute,"

Dex was pulling his hair by now. He should've seen it. Fisk puts her there while driving him as far as possible so he could put her in the open. Taunting and mocking him with just how little control he has over his life. Dex was never in charge of anything, it was always Fisk, and Fisk only.

"Dex, are you there?" she asks after a minute of his silence "listen, the meeting is going to start anytime soon, so I won't be on my phone—"

"You're not listening to me! Get the fuck out of that building now!" Dex yells in frustration "run out of it, jump if you need to, just fucking get out of there!"

"I can't jump out, I'm literally on the twenty-second floor!" she argues, completely missing the irony of her position "what is wrong with you?! Just— get here and we'll talk about it, okay?"

"No, there's no time! Just listen to me, please," he begs, choking on his own tears now as he's starting to see the building she's at "please, I'll explain everything later, just get out of there for now, please. I love you, please, listen to me,"

She was starting to feel conflicted. The event is starting any minute now and she would never see any bigger opportunity to secure her position in the bureau more than now, but the begging Dex makes is twisting her chest. He was full on crying and choking out of his words now, and it's certainly not a familiar thing for her to see. Something was wrong and she might be in the middle of it.

"Okay, okay, I'll come out," she finally gives in, moving her feet to the exit door "The things I do for you, Benjamin Po—"

Her words hung on the air as the ground shook. Dex watches with his own eyes how the building that was just a few blocks away from him exploded. Fire catches up as soon as the blast happened and within seconds, the whole building collapse from the violent destruction.

People were running away from the scene as the air turns dusty and grey, yet Dex jumped out of his car to run closer. His feet burns, tripping from all the debris that now laid on the road from the explosion. His eyes stings, but he couldn't look away from the blaze that has engulfed the building. He watches as fire dances against the concrete walls, turning everything it touches burnt and ashen.

And as Dex' feet gave in, as he kneels on the road a few metres away from the building, he knew that he is out for good.

#benjamin poindexter #bullseye #benjamin poindexter x you #benjamin poindexter x reader #benjamin poindexter angst #benjamin poindexter x y/n #benjamin poindexter x oc #bullseye x reader #bullseye x you #bullseye angst #dex x reader #dex x you #daredevil

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dissolvedprincess · 1 month ago

Text

Something short and sweet that i wrote on a whim. So, i don’t know if it’s any good, enjoy.

Windows

꒰ Poindexter/Bullseye x GN! Reader ꒱

✷ CW : 18+, NSFW

(Not Proofread)

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚ ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚ ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷

The air is hot, despite of the opened windows. You can’t help but think back to a few moments ago as you stare blankly at the swaying curtains. The fabric is white and sheer, enabling you to see into the apartment windows across from yours. They shine yellow in the night like paintings. Most of them covered with drawn up curtains, some of them opened, free for anybody look into and observe.

But not your room. The curtains are drawn up and the lights are out. No one would be able to suspect the kind of dirty acts that are currently taking place. Well, no one other than your unfortunate neighbors and unlucky passersbye that roam the streets below. They would’ve heard your moans and screams as you clawed at his arm, eyes watering from the intensity of your third orgasm. Twice by his hands, once by his mouth and tongue.

Your lungs still struggle to take in air, even as he runs his calloused hand over your sweaty chest. Seemingly trying his best to aid your intake of breath. His hand glides up to cradle your jaw, then you feel it. The wet and warm drag of his tongue on your cheek, licking up the drying trail left by your pleasure-induced tears.

“Can you come one more time for me?” He whispers into your ear, voice steady. You can’t imagine the amount of self control it’s taking for him to resist the urge to touch himself. Instead, he keeps choosing to bring you to your peak for multiple times in such a short amount of time. You’re not sure if you can even keep up at this point.

“Dex.” You turn your head to face him. And you almost gasp from the sight of his dilated pupils, half covered by low lids, heavy with desire. “Dex.” You call out again, attempting to break him free from his trance. “Let me touch you. Please.” Palm coming up to hold the side of his face.

“No.”

He doesn’t break eye contact when his hand starts to move again. Insistent on dragging more out of you. Selfish.

“Dex! I can’t! Baby i can’t!” You cry out. “Please!”

You attempt to push him away with a hand on his shoulder. But the action is pathetically cut short when he touches you just right, with perfect accuracy. The gasp you let out is sharp. Your back bows from the bed, and your thighs shake violently.

“Yes you can.” His hand works faster now, further and further decorated with your release. It’s filthy, utterly disgusting, but he doesn’t care about that. He never does. Not when you cry for him so sweetly.

And it’s not just his hands that sends you over the edge. It’s his eyes. His tongue. His body. His scent. His whole being. Dex. A person that will do whatever it takes to please you. Even if it means giving you more than what you ask for in the first place. Always ready and always ten steps ahead of you.

To be loved wholeheartedly by him is like nothing else in the world.

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚ ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚ ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷

I could not stop thinking about this specific scenario. I’m feeling romantic.

Ty for reading!

#benjamin dex poindexter #poindexter smut #benjamin poindexter x reader #benjamin leonard poindexter #poindexter x reader #dex poindexter #ben poindexter #benjamin poindexter #bullseye x you #bullseye x reader #bullseye fanfic #bullseye #daredevil fanfiction #wilson bethel #writers on tumblr

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the-and-sign-anon · 3 months ago

Text

Fire and Smoke

Fandom: The Pitt

Word count: 3,175

Reader: mid-30's, nonbinary! they/them, Firefighter

Series Masterlist

A/N: First time writing for The Pitt, first time posting anything in a while. I hope y'all enjoy this! I do intend to write several more parts to this, I just need to lay the groundwork.

Not everyone could put their life on the line for someone else. You would never judge anyone for that. But there was something inside of you that knew you’d never hesitate to jump into danger. You could never turn your back on a chance to help, to prevent a loss.

While you were never the one poking fun at probies or laughing at the start of a shift with your crew, everyone with the Bureau of Fire did tend to like you. Most probies had at least a few shifts with you straight out of the academy; you were a great teacher and got them into the swing of things quickly more often than not.

One new guy in particular had earned the nickname Shadow for following you around beyond his first month. He gladly took a schedule that matched yours and followed your every order. He was the closest anyone else at the fire station had seen you get to a friend.

It was a hot afternoon in Pittsburgh. The sun was shining, the air was still, and a fire had started in a four story apartment complex. The flames spread from one apartment to five by the time your crew arrived. Another engine was already setting up and clearing residents from the lower floors. You got your orders and led the way inside, taking the stairs up to the top floor.

“Jazz, Gran, you take floor three, Shadow and I have this one. Check in with each cleared apartment, don’t waste any time.”

The pair nodded and left at the entrance to the third floor while you continued on. You cleared five units before hitting trouble.

“Miss, can you hear me?”

The girl couldn’t respond. She was shaking and crying, curled up in the corner of what you guessed was her bedroom.

“I need you to come with me.” You glanced back. “Shadow, clear the rest of the unit and keep moving, I’ll be right behind you once she’s out.”

“Are you sure, Dex? I can-”

“I’ve got this, you keep going.”

He gave a hesitant nod and moved on.

You looked back and knelt down in front of the girl.

“My name is Dex, can you tell me your name?”

She still didn’t answer, so you moved a little closer. Just as you reached out, she lunged forward, throwing you off balance and knocking you to the floor. She straddled you before you could process what was happening and threw off your helmet.

“You can’t make me stay! I won’t!”

“I’m trying-” You grunted and tried to keep her hands from grabbing at your mask. “I’m not trying to make you stay, miss! There’s a fire; we need to go!”

She screamed in your face and ripped off your mask, sending a wave of hot, smoky air across your face. You tried again to grab her hands and stop her, but her nails raked across your exposed face and it erupted in pain.

Shadow, Jazz, and Gran were all speaking over your radio, calling each cleared unit. When you offered no response, Shadow tried again.

“Dex, you good? You get the girl out?”

“Get off me!”

You thrashed around, but the heavy gear you wore made it difficult to get out from under her.

“Dex, what’s going on?”

She was still screaming about something you couldn’t understand and swiping at you. You could tell enough to know you didn’t want to hurt her, but you were low on options as the room continued to grow hotter. Your train of thought stopped dead when her fist connected with your face, a sloppy but solid hit.

Your head slammed back into the floor at the impact and you finally gave in. Your hand scrambled for a grip on your fallen helmet and you swung at her head.

It didn’t take her down, but it knocked her aside enough for you to move out of her reach. You fumbled to your feet and raised your hands in a placating gesture.

“I’m just going to reach for my mask. Don’t attack me again.”

You kept your eyes on her as you slowly reached down, but your vision was getting a little hazy. You grabbed the mask and fixed it back over your face.

“I am not here to hurt you. This building is on fire and it’s my job to get everyone out. Do you understand that?”

“I don’t want to stay. They can’t make me stay!”

“You can go, right now. Just follow me, yeah?”

She watched as you moved back out of the bedroom and headed for the door. You gave her a wide berth, and she followed warily a few feet behind you.

“Dex!!”

“I’m here, sorry. I’ve got another one coming down, female, late twenties. She’s got something going on, but I don’t know what.”

You and the young woman went for the stairs and she started down first. You stayed about half a flight behind her to avoid another fight. When Shadow came over the radio again, you paused. The woman kept going.

“Dex, I have a door I can’t open. I think there’s someone inside. I’m at unit 407.”

“Copy that, I’ll be right there.” You looked down to the woman. “Keep going, miss! There will be emergency services outside to help you!”

You went back up the stairs to the top floor and met Shadow at the unit. The front door was open, but the first bedroom was locked.

“Dex, what the hell happened to you?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get it checked out later.” You pounded on the door with one fist. “Pittsburgh Fire! Anyone in there?”

You listened. A small voice answered.

“Help!”

It was faint, frail. You nodded to Shadow and braced yourself before kicking the door in. The doorframe splintered, giving way under your effort.

“Let’s get you out of here, miss.”

“Thank you, young man.” The little old woman smiled sweetly at you both and allowed Shadow to help her to her feet.

You led the way back out of the apartment and back to the stairwell again.

“Get her down. I think we’ve got a few units left. I’ll cover them.”

“But you-”

“I’m fine. Go.” You tried for a reassuring smile. You were pretty sure it was closer to a pained grimace.

Shadow looked hesitant, but focused on the old woman and started helping her down the stairs. He quickly realized it would take too long and asked her permission to carry her instead, which she allowed. Meanwhile, you went back and cleared the last four units.

With each unit, your breathing got heavier and your vision got weaker. You called in each unit number and kept your focus on making sure everyone else was out. When your air ran out, you took a few labored breaths to realize it.

By the time you got one flight down the stairs, you stopped to lean against a wall and slipped your mask off. The pain in your face continued, but the air came a little easier. You didn’t have a spare second to wonder why your alarm didn’t go off.

You just kept walking, one heavy step after another. Your vision was blurred by the time you burst through the last door. The parking lot was chaos, overseen by an order you didn’t currently have the presence of mind to understand. You just stumbled forward into the throng of people.

“...Dex, what’s going on?”

You shook your head to clear the smoke, but that just made you dizzy. Arms wrapped around you, kept you upright.

“Dex!”

You dropped your helmet and tried to wave off the people around you. Touch was on an expressed consent basis only, everyone on your team knew that. With all the control you could muster, you headed for your engine.

Huh. The pavement looked a lot closer than it should.

---

There was a mask on your face, but it was wrong. It only covered your mouth and nose. This wasn’t your mask. So why were you wearing it? And what was that annoying beeping sound?

One eye slowly blinked open, followed by the other.

You were resting in a bed with sterile white sheets.

There were wires and tubes connected to your arms, and a thick tube coming from the mask over your face.

Shadow was resting at the foot of your bed, a book in his lap and his feet propped up next to yours. He looked like a mess. His reddish brown curls were pressed to one side of his head, darkened with soot. There were smears of dust on his face and his clothes were clearly a day old and heavily wrinkled.

You slid one foot over and nudged his. He startled out of his book and dropped it on the floor as he shot to his feet.

“Dex! Hey-” He came closer, then seemed to think better of it. “I gotta- uh-” He leaned around the curtain drawn across your room and called for a nurse. “I should call the team!”

You waved him away to do so as a nurse and doctor came into the room.

“Good morning, Lieutenant Dexridge.” You waved softly.

The nurse, a woman in a hijab, checked over your vitals and started removing your oxygen mask.

“My name is Doctor Robinavich, but you can call me Robby. This lovely woman is named Perlah, she’s your nurse. Are you aware of why you’re here?”

You waited for the mask to come off before trying to answer.

“Uh… I was on a call. Fire in an apartment building.”

Your voice sounded almost foreign to your own ears, so rough and worn.

Perlah grabbed a thin tube and fit it into your nose, tucking both ends over your ears.

“Now that you’re awake, we’re switching you off the non rebreather and onto what’s called a nasal cannula, that’s gonna keep fresh oxygen running into your blood. That fire did a number on you, Lieutenant.”

“Just Dex is fine.” You watched Perlah put away the mask and offered a quiet thanks. “How long was I out?”

“You were brought in yesterday afternoon, so it’s been about…” He checked his watch and did a quick guesstimate, “Eighteen hours. You’ve been asleep pretty much the whole time.”

You nodded slowly. It was only then that you noticed a plush dalmatian resting on your bed, just to the right of your knees.

Robby talked you through the steps they’d taken when you came in. Shadow had been at your side, refusing to leave in his absolute grief. The charge nurse had resorted to manhandling him out of the room so the doctors and nurses could work properly. You’d needed a bronchoscopy, among other things, which didn’t help the aggravation in your throat.

When you were determined to be stable, Shadow set up camp at your bedside and didn’t move once. Another crew member dropped off his backpack, which contained his book, and your pillow from the firehouse for a little extra comfort. That little effort went further than you figured they knew.

“So… what are the chances I can get discharged today?”

Robby had settled in the rolling chair backwards, resting his arms over the back of it. Perlah made herself scarce once her work was done and Shadow returned with an exhausted sigh. He was curled up in the visitor’s chair with his knees at his chest. He watched your every move like a hawk, as if the slightest misstep would send you into cardiac arrest or something.

“Not good. We’ll need to keep you at least one more day to make sure your lungs and throat are healing. This was a close call, Dex. You understand that, right?”

You looked down and realized Shadow was nudging the stuffed animal closer to your shaking hands.

“I’ll be fine though, right doc? If not today or tomorrow, then next week. Or next month. I can keep fighting fires and leading my team.”

Robby sighed and ran a hand down his face.

“Mr. Mohr-”

“Just Shadow, please.”

He nodded and continued, “Shadow, why don’t you go wait at the nurse’s station for the rest of your team? You said they were on their way?”

He nodded, but looked to you for confirmation first. You waved him out and he ducked past the curtain.

“Dex, I’ll level with you here. What you went through yesterday was serious. Would you care to explain where the scratches and blood on your face came from? Because that definitely wasn’t the smoke inhalation.”

“I… had a run-in with one of the tenants we were evacuating.”

“Would that happen to be the young woman we have on a psych hold right now?”

You shrugged. If it was her, that was a good thing. She might get the help she certainly appeared to need.

“You just went through a trauma, Dex. Not just the smoke inhalation and the broken SCBA, but the attack, of whatever caliber, by a person going through some sort of mental break. At the very least, you shouldn’t be back at work until we know the exact extent of the damage you suffered.”

You didn’t want to hear that kind of news. The job was everything to you. You didn’t want time off, you wanted to get back to the fire station and keep working. You ran your fingers over the ears of the plush in a quick pattern to keep yourself grounded.

“I understand that.”

“I also want to do a mental health evaluation. We have a social worker here, her name is Kiara. She can sit down with you while you’re here and talk you through what you’re dealing with.”

“Doc, I really don’t think all that is necessary. I work a stressful job, like you do; I’ve learned to cope. I appreciate the effort, really.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am. I just want to rest a bit, I guess. And is it alright if I get some food?”

“Absolutely. We have some meal services here, or I’m sure your crew are willing to bring you something. They all seem to like you.”

You shrugged. You’d never tried all that hard to develop deep bonds with any of them, but you made sure you were a damn good lieutenant.

Robby took his leave once Shadow returned with Jazz and Gran. In her typical fashion, Gran had a little tupperware container full of cookies and a throw from her handcrafted collection for you. The trio stuck around for most of the day, even when you suggested they go home.

“Shadow, I mean it. Get the hell out of here.”

“Dex, I just think-”

“You’re off the clock. You don’t have to think. Go home. Sleep. Shower while you’re at it, you reek of smoke.”

“Pretty sure that’s you, Dex.”

You waved off Jazz’s response.

“I’m your lieutenant. Take it as an order.”

Shadow let out a shaky sigh and rose to his feet.

“Alright, I guess I could do with a break. Keep an eye on ‘em, Jazz?”

“You know it.”

You offered a little fist bump, which Shadow met, before he headed out with his bag over one shoulder. Once he was gone, you let out a long, shuddering sigh that sent you into a coughing fit. Gran patted your back softly and readjusted your pillow for you to lean back once you managed to catch your breath.

“Dex, Shadow didn’t give us all the details. How bad is it?”

You forced a deep breath in through your nose, out through your mouth. Once you were sure you could speak, you let your gaze fall to the sheets.

“I’ll just need some time. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

The two women shared a look across the bed. They’d both worked with you long enough to know when you were trying to fool yourself. Shadow didn’t.

Gran kept you entertained for a few hours catching you up on the trash reality television she loved. You couldn’t have cared less, you never had. But it was sort of nice to know she was making an effort to keep you from being alone.

Once, just after sunset, a doctor stopped in to check on you. He was shorter than the one from that morning, with graying curls and a stern expression. All he said was that he was the night shift attending and would ensure someone was available if you needed anything. You just nodded and thanked him quietly.

Jazz stuck around until nearly midnight. She pulled out a deck of cards from her bag and played games with you, ran out to grab dinner to share, and gave you the updates she had on the fire and its victims.

“Jazz, you know you don’t have to stay here all night, right?”

She shrugged and shuffled the cards again.

“I’m not a child, or a fall risk or something. You’ve been here all day. Just go get some rest. I’m not about to go anywhere.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but you just laid your head back and closed your eyes, breathing deeply with the tube in your nose. You heard her sigh and stand, then shuffle out of the room slowly. Once you were sure you were alone, you allowed yourself to drift off to sleep.

Your dreams were filled with flames and screaming. The girl from the call was swinging at you with something in her eyes between loathing and terror. You turned and ran, against your own better judgement. You couldn’t face her, couldn’t fall to the hot floor again. When you cleared the doorway, only an endless hall of scorched walls greeted you. The unit doors had disappeared, but you could still hear the screams of your crew as if through the walls themselves.

Your feet kept moving, your ears straining to hear anything beyond the shrieks of pain. The girl caught up with you, tackling you to the floor and shoving your face into the burning surface. You bucked and fought like a wild animal, but nothing was enough. When you began to turn, barely reaching your back, she lunged at you again, your face erupting in the same pain from the day before.

Just before she could strike you once more, your eyes shot open and you jolted awake.

Your skin was slick with sweat and you could hear the ever present beeping of the heart monitor next to you. The lights had been dimmed to allow you to sleep, the curtain still drawn to give you privacy. Your eyes darted around the room to pick out whatever you could. Everything was blurred, which you slowly came to realize was the fault of tears in your eyes. You furiously wiped them away and tried to even out your breathing. The dream had felt so painfully real. It had been real, to a lesser degree. You’d be fine. You just needed to recover and get back to work. That’s all there was to it.

#the pitt x reader #reader insert #nonbinary! reader #they/them pronouns #they/them reader #nonbinary reader insert #dr robby x reader #eventually #haven writes #my writing #firefighter reader

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sysig · 2 years ago

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A bit more Defeated, and thinking about this post (Patreon)

#Doodles #SCII #Helix #Max Vyer #Dexter Favin #But actually starting with chibi Maxes because cutes!! He's the cutest!!#I was looking through some old doodles of my own and my chibi style from 2019 was so flippin' cute ugh #That Zedaph in cold weather clothing? Honestly still a fave of mine Zed is So soft in all my doodles of him lol #Figured it'd be nice to float some cute loves Max's way :) And I was right! Though I am out of practice lol #Was still fun to do tho haha #And then since I'd reread Defeated poor ZEX got a chibi as well! I'm sure he appreciates it poor lad haha ouq #Didn't even use my white ink to put a shine in his eye for that one haha :'D #And then a bit more with Dex </3 I had these ideas on the first reading (or so - in the same time period anyhow) but only got to them later #Dex speaks so.....patronizingly about ''Max's'' attachment to Caleb :) It's interesting to me :)#For a lot of it he's very understanding and gentle with him but it really seems like Caleb is something of a sore spot for him huh #Still ♪ I wonder if he'd consciously acknowledge it - and what his reaction would be at himself if he did hmm #He's no help to Max if he's caught in his own feelings! That doesn't make them not meaningful or important tho #And then to a bit of silliness ♪ No subtlety with the guard dog comparisons pffft #I will not apologize - if ZEX gets to play with a collar and leash with the Captain then let Max have just a little! As a treat!#Besides we all know the Real Dynamics here lol #Max and Dex do stupid couple's costumes for Halloween - who doesn't love a callback lol - and Dex is Not Amused lol #Hey I mean if the shoe fits!#And then the last one is just silly lol I may be misinterpreting the intended message but I couldn't not give it to them lol #And also Max in a ponytail for funsies :D Cute lad ♥

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batmanlovesnirvana · 10 months ago

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Hot take, but can we please give Selina a break from being Bruce’s default love interest? The guy has a whole black book of fascinating women. How about a little variety for once?

Maybe just a quick Catwoman cameo or even a passing mention, but let’s dig into some of the other ladies in his life. I’m talking Andrea Beaumont, Silver St. Cloud (who got done dirty in Gotham), Julie Madison… Heck, even Dex from the The Batman prequel novel... Seriously, Bruce has more options than Selina, and it’s time to let them shine!

And please, please—if we ever get Talia again, can we for once cast her properly and give her a decent script? Because Nolan’s version? Yikes. Look, no shade to Marion Cotillard (she's great!), but casting a French actress as a character who's supposed to be Middle Eastern/Chinese??? I don’t know, man… that was certainly a choice.

Let’s just say, I’m praying for a casting miracle if they ever bring Talia back because she deserves better than that mess.

#bruce wayne #batman #the batman #the batman 2022 #dc comics #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne headcanon #bruce wayne x reader #dc movies #dc comcis #selina kyle #catwoman #talia al ghul #damian wayne al ghul #jason todd #yes I’m tagging him so what #ras al ghul #batfamily #gotham

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hearts4johnwick · 5 months ago

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˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ Mindkiller. / M. Murdock

SUMMARY. 𝜗𝜚 celebrating your birthday with your family friends is everything you need, the moments you share, the laughs, the hugs, but—what your co-worker benjamin pointdexter needs is you. and so does matt murdock.

WARNINGS. 𝜗𝜚 matt murdock x reader x benjamin pointdexter / stalking, obsession, profanities, matt gives reader the b-day sex treatment👅 (off camera unfortunately), reader’s native tongue isn’t english (the whole story is in english, it’s just a mention), dex breaks into matt and reader’s apartment.

A/N. 𝜗𝜚 AT THE SAME DAMN TIME AT THE SAME DAMN TIME AT THE SAME DAMN TIME 👅👅👅

The fire lighting the candles turned to smoke as the cheering and applause filled your ears, your co-workers celebrating your new age. “Happy birthday!!” One of them blows a party horn and you laugh, grown adults who act like children, you love it.

“Thank you so much, guys!” You smile widely, holding your hands together until one of your co-workers hands you a cake cutter, you take it, giving them a soft “thank you” that they didn’t hear. A few feet away stood special agent Pointdexter, watching, studying, admiring. He had the biggest smile on his face, but not the sarcastic one he usually has, this one was genuine, full of awe and admiration. His eyes had a unique sparkle that couldn’t be confused with anything else.

“Oh my! My favorite!” You gasp at the cake’s red color, they got your favorite flavor, red velvet.

“All thanks to Dex.” Your eyes search and find Dex almost immediately, his side smile turned into a full toothy smile, a slight flush of pink appearing on his cheeks, embarrassed that now all the attention is on him.

“Thanks, Dex!” You say, and he replies quickly and happily, then places your attention on the cake once again.

“Okay, you cut your first slice, it’s your day, you’re not gonna cut everybody else’s pieces, sit down and enjoy!” You nod and head to your desk where you finish your cake almost immediately. The cake was amazing, it tasted different, it was unique, and the recipe the bakery from across the street uses, aka, your favorite bakery.

“Hey…” a soft voice fills your ears, you turn your head up from your phone and find Dex in front of you, his plate empty, only small red crumbs lying on one side.

“Oh, hey, Dex. Did you enjoy the cake?” You ask, giving him a small smile that makes him struggle to find words.

“Uh—uh yeah, I did. It’s not really my favorite, but it’s enjoyable.” He nods. “Did you?”

“I loved it! My favorite cake flavor is red velvet and especially the one from the bakery across the street, have I told you that or was it pure coincidence?” You dare ask, and his eyebrows jump, clearly answering your question.

“What? Seriously? Well, it must’ve been pure coincidence.” If you count looking from the window of the building every time you finished your shift, when you would walk in and come out with a red velvet cupcake coincidence, or when he would be jogging around the place you were coincidentally around and saw you on your computer, chewing on a red velvet cookie.

“Funny, but yeah, I really enjoyed it, I just enjoyed the surprise you guys threw me overall, I was not expecting it! I appreciate it.”

“Of course, we appreciate you even more.” He offers his hand for you to give him your empty plate, which you do. He throws it in the trash can behind him. “So, are you doing anything after this?”

“Well, yes, I have some family waiting for me at home, what about you?”

“Oh, yeah, I suspected. After all, it is your day.” Though, for Dexter, every day is your day. You chuckle and nod. “Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.” He says and you smile, the twinkle of your doe, bright eyes, and the shine of your near-perfect smile is enough to blind him—just, your beauty overall is enough. He pushes his feelings say with a deep breath.

“Thank you, Dex.” You pick up your stuff and give him a short hug that makes his heart drill in his chest, about to come out. Your kindness and confidence are something he deeply admires about you, he’d say it’s one of his many favorite things about you.

You walk away and thank your co-workers for everything they did, and the special gift, then, walk out of the building.

Dex heads to the window, watching you as you walk to your car, looking to the sides before you cross the road, watching you as you search for your keys inside your purse, and watching you get in and drive away.

Dex hears a co-worker of his chuckle behind his back, he turns to face him, and God, he wants to punch away the stupid smirk he has plastered on his face. “Hey, Reyes, why don’t you mind your own fucking business?”

“Why don’t you mind yours, pointdexter? Didn’t your parents teach you not to touch what isn’t yours? Oh, wait…” Dex swears there’s smoke coming out of his pores due to the blood boiling inside him, but he stays quiet, he knows this isn’t what you’d want, for his rage to get the best of him. He also knew that if you were here, you’d defend him.

But what exactly did he mean by “not to touch what isn’t yours.” Are you taken? And not by him? He needs to find out.

𓂃

“Oh my, God, Foggy!” You gasp at the watch you just unboxed, gold strap, roman numerals, it was just gorgeous, it was you. “I love it!” You exclaim and run over to Foggy, hugging him.

“Happy birthday, y/n. I saw that watch and I know how much you love watches, and I just knew I had to get it for you.” Your eyes soften as he caresses your back.

“I love it so much.” You look down at the watch sitting on your wrist currently. “You know what, I’m going to put it on right now.” Foggy chuckles and he sees Matt’s jaw drop and Karen smile.

“Wow, you’re going to take off the one i gifted you?” Matt says, a hint of sarcastic jealousy in his tone. You laugh when you hear him, and smile when you hear the click of the watch’s lock closing.

“Yes, Matthew, I am.”

“It looks gorgeous on you, but, hey! it’s Matt’s turn!” You gasp dramatically and make your way to your boyfriend, your arms wrapping around his neck as he holds you close to him.

“Foggy helped me with this.” Matt hands you a basket, and you see a new set of flowers, as the ones he gave you this morning were sitting in a vase in front of you, a letter, and a few boxes in the center. You open one of the boxes and you smile, it’s a necklace, it was a simple heart locket, at the front, it had your and matt’s initials, and at the back, it was “I love you.” In your native language, “it’s not much, but—“

You swear you have tears in your eyes, for some reason, the three most important words you could share being written in your native tongue made you feel so sentimental. You hug Matt, and he caresses you.

“No, you guys don’t understand. If you guys had given me a pebble, or simply nothing, I’d still appreciate it more than anything, because I love you guys and I’m grateful you’re here. And Matt, it is everything.” Kate and Foggy share a smile at your words.

“Did you open the locket?” You open it and find two pictures of you and Matt—specifically your favorite pictures, pictures taken by Karen. Your heart warms and you hold it closely.

“Come here.” Matt takes the necklace and clamps it behind your neck. You touch it once more and hug each of them once again.

“I am more than grateful to have you guys.” You smile.

The night goes on, and Foggy and Karen leave once they notice how late the night was, also, they wanted you and Matt to catch up, since it was your birthday, and they knew you guys wanted to be alone. So, now you’re here, you and Matt, catching up.

“I forgot to bring you a piece! Augh!” You groan and face-palm yourself when you realize you didn’t bring Matt a piece of cake from work. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine.” He reassures you as he rubs your legs that were lying on his lap. “I’m just glad you’re here.” He smiles, you raise yourself and rest your head on your knees.

“What about you, red? How was your day?” you smile, and he chuckles at the nickname.

“I thought I told you not to call me that.”

“And since when do I do whatever you tell me?” He chuckles once again and licks his lips. “Actually—don’t answer that.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have liked my answer anyway.” You roll your eyes playfully and laugh.

You study his face, you notice his stubble is growing and the cut in his lip is healing. You place your hand on his cheek and he takes it. “Take these off, I want to look at you.” You gesture to his glasses.

“You’re already looking at me.”

“No, Matt. I want to see you.” Your tone is everything worth living for, your soft tone, your gentle touch, every second that passes by this moment is worthy of an eternity. You take his glasses off and smile once you take a look at his eyes. There’s some bruising and swelling in his left eye, you let out a deep exhale. “I love you, Matt.” You lay your head in his chest and he holds you close.

“So do I.” He blinks slowly. “More than anything.” You raise your head and plant a soft and delicate kiss on his lips. You move yourself onto his lap and he pulls you closer by the legs.

Now, he kisses you, hands on your cheek, thumb grazing over your cheekbones. Your hands travel from the hair from the back of his head to his chiseled face. You run your finger over a healing wound in his cheekbone. “Does it still hurt?”

“All my pain goes away when I’m with you.” You don’t want him to say this, you want him to be truthful—honest, because you despise seeing him in pain, and seeing him in pain is even more painful than you being the one suffering. You could be healing from surgery, but seeing a black eye on Matt’s face will be worse than the act that had just been performed on you.

He places a strand of hair behind your ear, you watch him closely as he licks his lips, missing your taste. Matt can hear your quickening heartbeat from a mile away, he can hear how it jumps from an average beat to a speeding one depending on where his hands land or what work his tongue is delivering.

Once you remove a piece of clothing, it’s the signal for him to take you away from the living room, to the room you share. Every time you pull away, you get a glance at Matt’s hypnotic face due to the red and purple lighting from the billboards surrounding your apartment complex.

He also got a glimpse of you, your mesmerizing smile and dazzling eyes when the red lights hit your face. But, not Matt—Dexter. Standing. Watching. Watching as Matt Murdock makes no effort to pick you up, watching as he pins you against a wall and you enjoy it, watching as he takes you to your bedroom and slams the door.

He feels nauseous, he knew that if he could watch what would be going on in that room, he’d be vomiting his guts out. Watching as another man that is not him loves you, touches you, the woman he loves. Watching as his North Star is being guided by another.

He can’t bear witness, no. If he can’t have you, no one can.

𓂃

Matt removed your arm from his chest, placing it softly next to you, you were sound asleep, a barely noticeable smile on your lips, this is all that matters to him, having you here.

He winces as he massages his shoulder when he stands, and the plant of his feet hits the cold floor. Back in your room, you change positions, now laying on your right side, you’re awake, but you’re not fully awake, you can’t hear what’s around you, nor do you have the strength to open your eyes, but a cold breeze hits you and you take a deep breath.

Dexter watches the expression you make when the cold wind hits your delicate face. How the smile you once held faded, as if the gust of wind took it away. Dex reaches closer, taking a lock of your curly hair in between his fingers and laying it in your face.

The impact of your soft lock coming in contact with your face awakens you, you smile and mumble a soft. “Matt, come back to bed…”

“I’m not Matt.” The difference in tones makes your eyes burst open, and you gasp when you see the unknown man dressed in all black staring back at you, you slide away from him, gripping your bed sheets, the scene before you is pure nightmare fuel.

You grab the gun that’s under your pillow and cock it. “No guns.” Matt appears from out of nowhere standing in the door, the light from the billboards outside shining on his silhouette.

“Happy birthday, y/n.” He smiles before disappearing out of your window. You drop your gun and try to catch air. Matt rushes to your side and hugs you.

“Oh my, God, oh my, God, Matt.” Matt attempts to calm you down, placing you down softly on the mattress and taking off his black mask.

“It’s okay, everything is okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He brushed your eyebrows and caressed your face as you rest your eyes, taking in deep breaths. He places a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m here.”

Your watery eyes find his. “Don’t leave me like that.”

“Never again.” You take one last deep breath before wrapping your arms in an embrace.

Matt—Daredevil is nicknamed the man without fear, yet, all he felt was fear when the woman he loved stood in a room with an unknown, though she held a gun, the pure knowledge that he wasn’t there with her at the moment is enough to strike fear on him.

#gigi writes marvel ᯓ★ .ᐟ #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #ben pointdexter x reader #ben poindexter #ben pointdexter x you #ben pointdexter x y/n #daredevil #daredevil fic

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poindexxxter · 2 days ago

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Beneath — Ben Poindexter x Reader

📣 Notes: There's a lot of Matt stuff in queue, but favoritism wins. We'll balance everything later.

Tags: Sub top Dex - GN reader - Smut - No plot - Riding - Premature ejaculation - Dacryphilia - First time - Emotional overload - Overstimulation - Possessive undertones - Touch starved Dex

You're barely on top of him when it happens.

His hands are trembling on your thighs, his fingertips flexing as if he doesn't know where to grab you without doing something wrong, still thinking he will make a mistake. He's lying beneath you, flushed and wide-eyed, chest already covered in sweat even though you've barely started.

There's a rawness in his gaze, something that screams fear inside his eyes that shows he still does not believe this. That fear of the possibility that at any moment you will vanish like you used to do during his fantasies before you put your eyes on him.

Even as you start sitting on him, he's still wondering if you will disappear.

The moment you absorb that part of him—warm and splitting you in a half—he loses it.

It's not something subtle or fake that he puts on, like those performances he used to do to seem interesting and get your validation or at least a bit of your attention, no, this is the real him.

His body jerks beneath yours as if he's been electrocuted, his hips bucking uncontrollably as his cock throbs too soon, too sloppy and difficult to process, spilling inside you before you've even finished exhaling and you feel it. That sudden, wet heat, the sharp jerk of his cock as he comes deep inside, making you whine as the heat spreads from within.

He gasps raggedly. It's high-pitched in such a vulgar way that he's not the only one feeling ashamed about it. A sound that cuts his throat as if he's choking, like if he can't bear the humiliation of it happening but can't stop it either. His hands clench because your skin is suddenly burning, something that is part of his wave of thoughts that are making him feel like he's unworthy of being able to touch you after what he did, making him want to disappear into the mattress, but he can't even do it. He's frozen in the moment he's been fantasizing about even if he feels guilty, and he already ruined it.

But you don’t stop. You’re still on him, with his cock twitching inside you, sensitive and overstimulated, soaked from his first orgasm. Then you start moving.

At first, it’s slow and intentional, like you want him to really feel it, and it's mean, maybe.

His hips twitch helplessly under yours, legs tensing as you roll down again, deliberately pressing into the mess he just made. His breath hitches, then breaks, and he moans broken and embarrassed, so high in his throat that he tries to stifle it, like you’re not already hearing everything.

You ride him like you need it, like you need this just from him. And that—more than anything—shatters him.

His hands drag up your hips, shaky and unsure, like an attempt to ground himself, but all he manages to do is cling, making it desperate. Pathetic.

The way he looks at you makes your stomach twist—red eyes, tear-glossed lashes, mouth open and struggling to stay quiet but failing with every grind of your hips.

He’s still hard and throbbing. Still whimpering from just how sensitive he is—already overwhelmed, but now drowning in the unbearable fact that you’re still using him. Not stopping, not laughing. Not leaving him. Just fucking him like he belongs to you.

That’s what breaks him once more.

He becomes loud. Mouth open, crying with it now—face blotchy, wet, an attractive shade of pink, so fucking pretty and sweet you could melt. He clutches your skin like it hurts him. Like he can’t hold any more feeling on top of him.

It’s beautiful, watching him fall apart.

Tears streak down his cheeks, lost in the sweat already shining there. You roll your hips a little harder—drag his cock deep—and he sobs. It’s involuntary, pitiful, the kind of noise that happens when someone has been starved of touch so long they can’t absorb it properly.

Now he's babbling, so low and hot, panting as if he's trying to say something, ask something, beg for something, but his words unravel before they fully form. A string of overwhelming, half-stifled sounds, shaky confessions of insecurity that melt into the sheets before reaching your ears. You don't need to hear it to understand. He's unraveling. He apologizes for finishing too soon, asks if he's doing good, if it's okay, if you're satisfied, if he's okay, but those depressing attempts of words just keeps spilling out of him in broken rhythm, lost between shameful sobs.

You ride him harder because it is simply everything you've ever wanted.

Each movement knocks more of those little noises out of his mouth. His hands grip your waist like he’s terrified you’ll vanish, fingers leaving marks in your skin. His chest heaves, legs spread wider like he’s offering himself up fully, even if he’s not sure he deserves it. Your body keeps rocking, pressing down, grinding through the thick, slick heat of his second slow-building orgasm—and when it comes, it feels better than the first one.

He doesn’t warn you and it's not like he can either.

His body just locks up—thighs shaking, stomach muscles clenching under your hands—and he comes again, helpless and overwhelmed, cock throbbing inside you while you keep moving, not even giving him space to come down from the first. His head tips back, throat stretched, mouth open in a silent cry that only turns to sobs once the shock has passed.

You keep going. Using his cock like it’s yours, like he exists for you to use, and he enjoys that, being useful and wanted and so loved by someone he never thought would ever look at his direction again after finding out who he really is.

His nails dig into your hips, leaving little crescents behind, but he doesn’t try to stop it—doesn’t even have the strength to think about stopping and if he had it, he would still not try to stop it. His tears are wetting the pillow, and every breath he sucks in is stuttered and broken.

He’s so fucked out he doesn’t even know where he is anymore. But that doesn't matter, what only matters to him is that you’re still riding him. Still making him feel things that he didn't know he could feel. Still wanting him enough to ruin him like this.

And that is everything to him, because no one has ever wanted him like this before. Not really.

Not enough to break him open and fuck the shame out of him. Not enough to stay after he finishes too soon, after he falls apart in every sense of the word. Not enough to keep going through all the mess of him and somehow still not thinking about leaving.

He sobs into your shoulder now after you lean in to feel more of him, mouth hot against your neck, tears soaking your skin while he hugs you, clinging to your body, your heat, your flesh, like if it's not deep enough. Strong and trembling arms wrapping around you to the point of pain.

And still, you don’t stop, even if your body is screaming for a break, your thighs burning as much as your raw flesh where he's opening you. You don't want to stop, because he’s yours, you're his, and you both need this from each other.

He's broken, crying, finishing again, and still begging for you in a voice he doesn’t even realize he’s using.

#ben poindexter #bullseye #ben poindexter smut #benjamin poindexter x reader #bullseye smut #ben poindexter x reader

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