helliloveit

[helliloveit]

Pacify

Frank Castle x gn!reader

Warnings: +18 violent behavior Frank. Toxic interactions, sexual tension, inappropriate lenguage. This thing is short and dark so do not proceed if it triggers you.

The pull on your hair seems to get you back to reality. Frank, your most hatred opponent. It isn’t like the first time you are throwing fists here and there. You both were catatonic, explosive. Nothing could go under the table, silent or discreet between you and him. You despised each other, or that’s what you like to think.

This little seed, growing inside you, a restless itch right at the core of your body every single time he thinks is a good idea to get extremely closer, noses touching and with his blood boiling, murmur at you:

—“You think you know me so well, do you?”

You loved the way it is so easy for you to provoke him, get under the skin of such a bloodthirsty man and yet get away with it.

At least the most of the time.

His hand flew across your cheek, you struggled to not moan at his hardened face. The grip in your hair is still there, even tighter but, you don’t mind a little stretch. The smirk grew at the corner of your lips and you try to hide it with a nip to your lower one.

But he’s fast, you couldn’t enjoy picking at the rabid dog with a stick and do not elaborate your further fate. Since the moment he decided to work with you, he knew this would happen. You’re too mouthy for own wellbeing. Theres is nothing else he loves more than give these bold sluts a real taste of him.

[helliloveit]

Blood Bonded

@dethspllz u are free to kill me, i did everything but what you asked me for. I owe you that one, i’ll do it, OKAY? 😫 my brain didn’t connect blood and smut this time, it is so hard to write for me. Turning back to the fic, hell, this is authentic punisher field, i love my man wild out of the nature, craycray like he truly is. Tellmewhatchathink.

Frank Castle x reader

Warnings: +18, Violence, blood, murder, graphic descriptions, SA allusions (not mentioned), angst, soft!Frank, punisher stuff.

W.c: 1.2k

Summary: Life isn’t easy, even more so when you have an abusive boyfriend breathing down your neck. Everything took a drastic spin one night after your neighbor Pete found out.

You’re awaken by hard thumps rattling in the window’s glasses of your room. Before you can question the source of it, the first thing you notice is the absence of your partner…where is James? He must be here in bed with you —well, is not that you want to see him honestly, argued a lot before you came to bed.

Probably decided to go for a walk or to go away. After all, the discussion went pretty physical (as always) and you’ll made it decisively clear he would leave tomorrow.

Whatever his reason was, you needed to check. You stay paralyzed in your room that would have been plunged into absolute blackness if it wasn’t for the yellow streets lights entering in rectangular frames inside the desolate place.

Nothing felt like before anymore, James did take half your bubbly personality and with that, the smooth color of your skin…he was that type of person.

You feel incredibly ashamed of leaving the situation escalate this much. You must have break with him any of the repeated times he had the insolence to put up a show in front all your neighbors, including Pete. He is the one you are the most embarrassed with because he actually intervened; he always seemed to ignore whatever which wasn’t his work or the stuff what kept his face scrunched and injured all the time.

I mean, he wasn’t a complete stranger, he chats briefly with you as long as the dumb shit you called ‘boyfriend’ is not around. Usually things about your apartment, the electricity costs, water problems and most recently, your wellbeing:

—“Sweetheart, what is that?” The man raises your wrist from the lock you were intending to open. You didn’t expect him to get out of his flat in that precise moment, your heart was on the floor.

—“Shit.” You snap your hand away, regretting instantly.

—“God- i’m sorry Pete i wasn’t-”

—“It was him? Jacob? Jackson?” He tentatively asks. His face is calm but you know damn well that rumble, he’s not happy, of course, your wrist is inked with a deep purple bruise, green edges appending at its nasty look.

Shame washes you again, you’re not able to respond, disregarding him completely, closing the door behind you in a rush. Nothing couldn’t stop you from breaking down in one of those chairs next the dinning table. You did a great job hiding how miserable you were the whole year. Until that moment.

———————————————————————————

You manage to put your slippers on, your knees hurt, your soul sticks to your insides in order to not be absorbed by the absolute aversion you feel, totally betraying yourself cause why you should look for James??

You’re finally getting ready to raise from the bed and you hear one of those again, a dry thump that wasn’t loud, what scared you was the strength of it, made the floor vibrate beneath your feet.

Now isn’t only your boyfriend you need to know where he is but the source of that sound.

It was located in the kitchen.

Standing with that gray long-sleeved shirt you had seen him wear several times now sweat stained, his chest is puffing up and down rapidly, you notice regardless he’s turning his back at you, he’s stiff. He has fresh blood on his hands, the yellowish light bouncing on your kitchen wall to his forearms made them glisten red.

You know you should hide, call the police, make a bustle about it and maybe, maybe you’ll get to survive.

But it was-

—“Pete?” Your voice cuts the frigid atmosphere, he acknowledged you in the room with him now. Two bodies joining you both, calling a macabre scenario.

—“Shitshitshit” He rushes at your form, it feels like he’s back to life, glimmer reviving his eyes; covering the scene from your sight with the expansion of his chest.

—“You should be sleeping, love. I’m sorry for waking you up—I shouldn’t have, shit. I’ll deal with this, alright?” His hands hover near your arms. You catch the faint iron tang of them, and everything in his tone is erratic—unsteady.

Still, the decision forming in his eyes tells you he means it: he’s going to take care of it.

C’mon, you’re not silly, this didn’t catch you totally unaware. All those cut and bruises, the occasionally grunts reverberating from his loft, rusty hands shaking, knuckles dry and manhandled, it isn’t just some blue collar job. No.

You rise enough to see your dead partner, what is supposed to be his head in a pool of blood, the other guy unlike James his face is still recognizable… is one of his friends.

You see a knife staked in the midst of his throat. You don’t want to think about it —yet you ask.

It takes Frank two or three tries to gather the answer for you, stuttering, lost in his own mind he says:

—“They were stupid enough to talk about their plan in the hallway… i couldn’t-” he breathes deeply.

—“Couldn’t let that happen, y’know.” He’s incredibly touched by your apparent toughness, he’s pretty sure you understand completely what he means. You gaze up at him in determination.

—“I’ll hel-”

—“No.” He interferes severe.

—“What’ya gonn’ do is…” Intensifing his tone, Frank lowers his head, dark eyes boring into you, he wants you to apprehend what he is about to dictate you.

—“I’ll go away. You call the cops, tell them i was here, you tell them Frank Castle did this and they gonna believe you.”

You’re so confused, like who the fuck is Frank Castle…

Then you remember.

The news rambled nonstop about this new vigilante who was extremely dangerous, and his description fitted Pete perfectly, good six feet, ivory skin, brunette, brown deep set eyes. You’re not fazed.

—“Hey, you hear me? Sweetheart there’s not much time for me.” He searched for your pupils, stuck on some unrelated spot.

—“Yeah, yeah im here.” Quickly, your attention snaps back to him. In the darkness, you catch the way his brows are drawn together with a tender shake in them you hadn’t noticed before.

—“They’ll believe you and you’ll be okay.” His assuring tone calming you is almost ironic. You can’t help but feel guilty.

—“But what about you? You made this mess because of me and now you are on your own like that?” You rush to express, pressing your lips in a thin line of sadness when you realize his thumbs are tracing strokes over your neck. You don’t care if he’s staining you.

—“No, no, no—wait,” he pauses.

—“You’ll know about me soon enough, that’s for sure. But for now, you do what I told you; tell them everything you know, yeah? Don’t try to spin them around. That’s only gonna put you in a hard place.”

You nod, uneasy. And you don’t know what’s gotten into you but you kiss his stubbled cheek. His shoulder dropped just a little, he left a long peck on your forehead after that, you didn’t anticipate it.

Your heart sank when he was gone, took a jacket from his victim’s closet and dissipated behind your windowsill to the fire scape. The clank of the metal from his steps… his truck.

———————————————————————————

You’re seated in the back of an ambulance whilst two cops are asking you countless questions. Bathed in the cold breathe of the night you barely register the annoying rustle of the foil blanket as it lands on your back and slips down your bare legs. Your mind is elsewhere—on whether this new guy named Frank will truly be alright.

[helliloveit]

Night Shift

Ok this is kinda crazy, maybe too much. It can be worse ngl 😅. Im a Frank girl but this guy… i can express more with him(? Like he’s so unhinged im not so worried about what he does is appropriate cuz he’s never appropriate so, well, proceed with caution.

Benjamin “Dex” Poindexter x reader

Warnings: Dark!Dex, defenseless!reader, insults, psychopath behaviors, noncon touches? (Not smut), Dex is obsessed with you, harming, choking, licking, stalking, angst. Dark themes, do not read if it triggers you, please.

W.c: 1k

Summary: You organize a stack of boxes in the scrappy shelter house you had been working for the last 3 years. Don’t get it wrong, you love your job —that feeling has been decreasing like a plane nosediving lastly. It all started when your employer, Ms. Marie, decided it was a good idea to give this gentleman an occupation. He goes by Dex.

You organize a stack of boxes in the scrappy shelter house you had been working for the last 3 years. Don’t get it wrong, you love your job —that feeling has been decreasing like a plane nosediving lastly.

It all started when your employer, Ms. Marie, decided it was a good idea to give this gentleman an occupation. He goes by Dex, you are pretty unsure if thats his real name.

I mean you are unsure about everything that involves him, he is creepy.

Countless times have you tried to rationalize with your boss, God-, you’ve found him killing a bird. Smashing it, smearing it over the ground with his very own shoe, not a single noise of disgust he vocalized, not even the flicker of commotion wet his eye.

Dead inside.

Since your boss is a very insistent woman, there’s not much you could actually do. You don’t blame her at all, she is the head of an orphanage, it is an organic unfolding that her heart goes tender every time a portrait of misfortune hangs on the wall.

In these case, a ex-fbi agent, kicked out of his position for episodes of psicosis and violent behavior, probably caused by PTSD and general trauma for such a tough job. The vacancy for a guard was open. Her eyes turned into stars.

There isn’t a reason you can call out to get him away from the job. Your boss is on vacations. You can’t open everyone’s eyes, he worked his charm neatly, all pearl teeth and wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, but is in the night, the night shift, the kids sleeping, the drowned silence, the dryness of the air, the nauseous flickering of the LEDS on the ceiling, his steps moving through the aisle in front of the small warehouse you were in now.

This last nights is when you are allowed to see how he really is.

And he sees how you really are.

Insightful. He fully remembers how your judgmental stare pierced prolonged on his face the moment his left eye twitched. The reason: Marie had advertised him to not get rid of flies by throw paper clips at them, it is as weird as impressive, regardless of that, scares the children.

It would had been fun. It would have been fun if you didn’t discover the milimetric cilidric extension of the clip stabbing directly on their tiny bodies to the cardboard. Would have even more fun if he just got to frighten you and not get your goodie ass to snitch to the boss.

You’re sure that since that day, the blondie always have a bone to pick with you, avoids you and the rare moments you get to be in the same place —usually coworkers meetings— never fails to have an odd with you, not verbally, no, Dex stares at you, eyes blank in that specific way a person who abhors someone would do.

That’s not enough to assert he is a total piece of shit, he is just weird or that’s the prompt you been cajoling yourself with to not deeply panic, even when you precise his icy hazel iris peeking through the ajar door… no wait— is he watching you?!

You sprint to fully open the door and look around. At the threshold you’re met with nothing more than the empty white aisle, you thought you heard his steps at the end of it so, what you saw must come from tiredness since it’s late.

Picking up the marker again you dispose yourself to the write down the content of the boxes on it surfaces.

You don’t get to uncap the sharpie.

Echo of a loud thud travels the path its end you are. Despite the cold sweat forming on your back you go, ‘it’s for the kids’ you repeat yourself for your own sake, you hold the marker for dear life and stand up from the small rigid bench to explore.

The old lights keep buzzing on top of your head, the stale smell of the old place made your heart accelerate its rate. Keep going, you just keep going checking through the wooden doors at your sides and… there’s nothing weird.

You get to the end of the L shaped aisle. No signs of Dex though. He should be on his place, outside, what he was looking for before then? That’s a question you should made yourself, but everything is so heavy, exhaustion tenses your spine, mind is numb. Back to work.

Like a robot, you walk down the route you forcefully went before. Your home is all occupying your mind when you see all the stacks you need to put together.

When you attempt to sit at the bench again, the door behind you closes on it own. Shit.

Maybe he wanted to play a joke on you but that theory dismantled itself the moment you turn around to face it.

Dex was there in the room with you, locked entrance at his back. A pocket knife in his hand.

You almost cry.

—“Okay, what the actual fuck is going on?!” Punctuating every single word of the question, your stomach quiver yet you are proud how firm your voice came out.

—“You don’t wanna wake up the kids, do you?” His lips crack with an uneven smile.

All this time, you were right. Fuck, fuck! He’s twisted! Like a fucking corkscrew. It is fair to say you are in utter panic.

—“I have a few things to tell you, but you need to collaborate, you need to help me, would you?” He whispers in such soft tone despite there’s nothing soft splattered over his features.

His eyes are low, appeased, pupils blown, flared nostrils, the collar of his black gear is untidy as if the tugged it down in a rush, you even discern the nail scratches over his neck- but there’s no time to catch the little details.

—“Okay, okay,” You raise your hands in faux surrender —“What is it?” You ask hesitant, one thought is executed before you can meditate on it, you try to grab a cutter lying over a box but,

he reaches you.

His hand slides across your cheek. Suddenly gasp for air when what seemed like a tender caress turned into a harsh grasp, gripping your jaw, straight into the bone. Definitely gonna leave a bruise.

The man doesn’t talk right away, remains staring at your face void of all color, his breath brushes your skin erratically.

—“You think you get to ruin all i have built,” he mumbles between gritted teeth. — “it makes me want to smear you all over the ground like that pigeon you were so loud about.”

He was so close it felt overwhelming. He wasn’t drunk, no alcohol smell, this is not okay.

—“What Dex? You want me to stay all calm and sweet when i see a guy doing something so unhinged in a place like a child shelter?! You must be fucking crazy.”

If you were going to die tonight, at least you’re gonna stand for your thoughts. It pulls a laugh out of him. —“Moral girl.”

—“If- if you’re planning on killing me now-“

—“Shut the fuck up.” He chuckles, as a warning.

—“It would be a fucking mess and you couldn’t even escape properly, there is cameras everywhere, they’ll be looking for you by the morning.” You are stressed, the words come out rapidly, it makes him harrow.

—“Shut up!!” Dex finally shouts.

Rage is crawling up his face in the color of red boiling blood, he shoves you back so roughly you feel the waves of the stunt coil back and forth within your rib cage.

Here stamped onto the wall, trepidation climbed up your limbs like burning ivy. You can’t help the tears welled in your eyes. You feel overpowered, incapable.

His fingers are still painting white over your masseter muscles, he nudges at it maliciously and your glare, holding his in a fragile act of courage, faltered—leaving salty drops slipping down your cheeks.

—“I think you get it now.” He almost slurs, hazel eyes fixed on your… lips?

Every alarm in your body is yelling at you to scream, push him, go away, but everything is happening so fast you don’t know what to do first. You shut your eyes closed again, exhaling to dilute some adrenaline build up in your blood.

When he gets that close is something you don’t quite notice immediately.

He licks the fresh path of tears on your cheek.

Sick fuck knew the business so well that before you thought about screaming the same hand clutched your neck with the right amount of pressure to not let anything out or in, including your voice… and your breath.

If what came before was a nightmare, then this is the night terror that leaves you adrift—aware you’re dreaming, yet unable to wake up. Trapped.

—“You get it, do you?” He asks full of cynicism, over your ear, warming it with his breath. You nod hysterical, the lack of air burning inside your lungs. It wasn’t enough for him.

—“Do you?!!” Dex half shouts, a harsh whisper, slamming you back against the concrete wall, you cry out, reaching his hand to scratch it. You can’t breathe.

He lasts another few seconds bathing in the sweet syrupy feeling of you not only surrendering to him but to writhe between his fingers.

You collapse onto the floor the second he lets you go. You reach up, fingers trembling, trying to soothe the irritated skin of your neck. Looking up, what coughs and tears allow you to see is the slightest of the smirks.

Son of a bitch thinks you won’t say a thing about this later.

That when he disappears through door behind him and go away, you won’t wait till the next day and call Ms.Marie and not hold a single thing about his fucking psychopath demeanor, how much of a danger he is to the children and other coworkers, what he did to you…

But oh… surprise.

When you actually do, the first thing you know is he was fired, yes, he was, and all the walking through the aisle yesterday was nothing more than… you don’t know. He had like bloody 2 weeks off but nobody noticed since the night shift was only you and him, occasionally Marie if she didn’t went on a month vacation like she did now.

You can’t quite name the feeling. That moment was, without question, the most haunting thing to happen to you in years. Realizing how helpless you are in such a tense situation.

Sleep schedule all fucked up, eating more than you should out of anxiety and rethinking your life choices. You wont let yourself get defeated, you won’t quit the job, you wont move away.

It eventually happens one day, 6 am when you finally get at home after a torturous walk from bus stop to here. The morning is chill, perfect to sleep, you’re so sleepy now, you open the main door and look down, and all the cozy feeling is drained with a straw.

His small knife pocket he never used on you, at your feet.

[helliloveit]

Living Room Flow

This was kind of a disaster, longer than i thought it would be, but i like it. I don’t know if Frank is mean mean in here, but whatever this is i live for it. Feedback is always welcomed, kisses. English is not my native tongue.

Frank Castle x f!reader

Warnings: mdni, +18, Mean!Frank (half) he softens as the writing progresses, brat!reader, cop!reader, situationship, spanking, cursing (Frank is a sailor), smut with a plot(?, angst, rough, not a full happy ending.

W.c: 3.2k

Summary: It’s been a complicated day, you are not the best version of yourself, Frank isn’t patient with you this time. You don’t complain even if your feelings get in the way.

You hear the roaring of his truck outside the house and that made you jump over your seat in the couch. Yes, you had a dense afternoon, everything felt suffocating, your job that, thankfully you got out of early today left you with a bunch of tasks you even didn’t know how to start with. The fun thing is that every single friday is like this, and every single time of these Frank went even more bossy than he already is.

He is not your boyfriend, no, there is no love in the way you treat each other, you let him toss around your papers files as long as he offers you some protection, a deal.

Yet, you can’t deny he is sort of endearing, since you have nice amount of time knowing each other, besides the rare ‘friendship’ you had built, he stealthily made his way inside your life, your actions and your decisions in order to: “Ya needa be wise in this, anything you do wrong its a fuckin’ rope around ya neck.” Or whatever he says. Doesn’t matter how many times you roll your eyes, he’s right, being a detective in this city is not merely safe or fair.

Is not fair when you have to read and read and whatever conclusions you get with are rejected because there’s not enough proofs, even if you explained every detail thoroughly, a week of work, all destroyed in front of your face, and that’s exactly what happened to you today.

Something worth adding is that recently he drove his way into your desires too, you don’t even remember when it got to a breaking point, the only thing you know is that Frank carved his name with flames on the skin of your abdomen, he left you like a puzzle’s abandoned piece and you're sure you'll never find a half that fits you like he does. You are screwed. So much more when you realize his sex drive its lower than your willings to work, and that’s bold statement.

That’s also the reason of your bitterness, let’s be clear, you are not sweet, even less with Frank, that man has a sharp tongue, and he does use it. But today, you got to admit you were insufferable. So much that Frank better left the hustle for later, he could handle your back handed remarks, your disdainful looks too, but don’t you dare pushing him or swatting at him for tell you what is right.

The spare key jingles, then he enters the warm illuminated living room as you watch him from your place accommodated on the maroon sofa, the atmosphere grows heavier by seconds, the scowl of his face looks deeper and his movements determined, the creak of the wooden floor under his boots combined with the rumbling of the tv are playing an extra number on your anxiety.

— “You got the files, do you?” His harsh voice vibrates through the upholstered walls then your ears.

— “Yeah, they are in the kitchen aisle.” Your response comes out dry.

He looks back at you confused, where he’s standing he can clearly see the kitchen aisle… empty.

On Frank’s side, if he says he’s not upset with you, that’s pure bullshit. Already lost 5 of his seven patience bars trying to work along with you. And the way you inhale deeply and stand up from the cushions to stamp the documents where they are supposed to be, he already lost two more.

He leaves his jacket on the rack besides the entrance and walks down the little curve to the marbled surface. He exhales stressed when he finishes to read all the titles and none of them are the ones he needed.

—“Sweetheart… i know you are pressed but,” he raises the papers, kind of excusing himself, even if he’s tired of your attitude he doesn’t want to make you sicker.

—“These are not the ones i asked for.” And he attached to his very submissive tone.

That didn’t had any effect on you though, you went back, snatched the goddamn sheets out of his hands, checked for the right name and threw the new folder over the aisle again.

—“Let me know if you want me to read ‘em for you too.” You rumbled annoyed as you turned around to go away.

Hollow silence fills the space.

—“Hah, you little fuck. You stop right there.” It didn’t came out loud, if you wasn’t so attentive at his reaction you wouldn’t have noticed. You look back disgusted, who does he think he is to command you like that? You scoff and keep your tracks and that’s when he raises his voice.

—“I said stop right there, y’ didn’t hear me?” It was too much for you, you weren’t exactly obedient but for whatever reason you froze not so far from where you turned your back at him. You hear him walk, his heavy steps reaching you, suddenly your head feels heated, you love the thrill, and he always knows how to deliver it perfectly.

—“The fuck is wrong with you now, huh?” He lowers his head to get to your eye level. “That attitude is gonna get you places.” He slowly says as his arms rest behind your sides, grasping the cold aisle behind you, one of his hands moved to your face, fixing your jaw in his direction, dwarfing it in his pretty big extension.

—“Think you can blame your pent up frustration on me.” He nods slowly, analyzing every feature in you, something he’s pretty good at.

—“Let go.” You cling to the last bit of rebellion left in your body, lift your chin and slap his hand away with a curse, he backs up, chuckling. Oh, he’s amused. And you’re not sure if he likes the challenge or simply is hilarious to him to witness how deep into the trouble you are getting.

Your breath is growing faster and everything but steady, your hands cold, all of it provoked by the way he’s glaring at you, if you didn’t know him the way you do, you were sure he would be plotting your murder. Frank is one to intimidate people but that’s not quite what is happening to you now, you hate when he hovers over you and slightly tilts his head, even more when he is almost smirking thinking he has you wrapped around his finger.

And maybe he’s right because you kiss him.

Is not the first time it happens anyways, you fist the fabric of his henley, giving a fuck if it’s ruined by the time he needs to get home, you’re pouring every emotion in it and he knows, he pleases you, he lets you climb and tangle around him, press your torso at his firm one, yes, but he is not satisfied, not with the way you had treated him the whole day.

When you take a break he slightly pushes you back from your neck, your hands travel down his chest by the distance.

— “What is it now?” You ask hazy.

—“What it is now? Baby are you aware of the way you had talk to me?” You frown, of course you had been such an ass today but, he can’t deny you a good shake off, right?

—“But-” you start to display your best puppy eyes, he doesn’t let you finish though, you are looking at his own dark gaze until the clink of his belt draws you away from your trance.

—“Nah nothing sweet. Turn around.” The way he plays the the piece of leather off has you pretty distracted.

—“We can talk it over Frank.” He clearly hears the desperation in your voice, whether he wants to calm it is another matter.

—“Oh, we can talk it over now? That’s new.” His hand spins your shoulder until your back is a few inches away his chest, pushes your blade until you feel the cool surface breeze your nipples through the thin fabric of your old tank top.

At this point the anticipation have you teary eyed, you look back at his frame, it is so broad, he is so heavy in his presence it makes your back get goosebumps, even more so when he lifts up the hem of your top to look at it, he made it clear a few times, he loves your back, specifically how it arches when he caresses at your skin with his rusty palms.

The soft interlude ain’t last long.

Both of his hands tugs at the waistband of your sweatpants, so fast the panties get trapped in the motion, leaving you bare, he spreads your cheeks revealing your glistening parts for him to drool at them, he’s dying to bury his mouth in it but he won’t be nice, even if it gets to him more than it gets to you. He clicks his tongue.

—“I don’t think you get a release tonight, too bad for you.” He caresses your slit from start to finish, eliciting a shudder from you.

—“Frank please it’ll be good next time, make me feel good please, i swear.” You rise enough for his stubble to tickle at your temple, you wish you could melt in his body, all you need is a little bit of love and correction, also him to give you what you want.

It aches, he aches, doesn’t like to tell no to his pretty girl.

He hesitates for a few seconds, he needs you too, he feels it burn inside his core. Sadly, He’s a man known for his resilience.

—“Don’t wanna hear a single whine from your lips from now on.” He groans with wet lips in your ear, you’d have clenched your already soaked pussy if he hasn’t pulled your hips back and made you bend over again.

Suddenly you feel his fingers pressing the back of your neck against the gelid material you are lying on. Before you can protest a gasp leave your lips when instead of the leather of his belt a hand lands harshly on your ass, loud and painful.

He always preferred the traditional way.

—“Count five of those for me.” And it’s the shame to be so easily dominated. Subdued not only to his but your own body, you crave him.

—”Fuck you.” You try to wriggle his grip out uselessly, tears already streaming down your cheeks, you are always so brave it plays against you.

You yelp when your hair is pulled by his thick fingers, your neck sting at the forced flexion, and he hovers down to the shell of your ear again, squeezing your body under his, that’s when you notice his hard bulge against your messed folds, he’s as bad as you.

—“You can’t help yourself, can you? Why don’t you count ten instead, it’ll help you ease.” He surprises you with another hard spank.

By the time he has 5, you are sweating, biting your lips so your neighbors don’t have to deal with the consequences of your bitchy behavior too.

—“Ten.” You count anticipating the rough slap, but nothing comes, you look back timidly over your shoulder. He feels his cock twitch at your helpless face. Wet and colored cheeks, those eyes, god, you look like you haven’t been the most prolific brat for the past eight hours, almost like he is punishing you for your mere existence.

Tender strokes covers your manhandled cheek.

—“I think we can leave it like that. It’s been enough for you.”

Oh no, you don’t want to stop, you desperately look for his hand and grab it, leading its travel all over the side of your torso to your tit, you coax a squeeze out of his hand pressing over it. Your eyes enough of a message, a silent plead. His own mind liquid with lust.

—“Such a needy girl.” Frank lowers his head to merge in a tender kiss, your whole body is throbbing, the wet sounds of the smooch traveling right down your clit. You swear he reads it through you cause his point and middle fingers came down to indulge you, everything feels impossibly hotter, if hell has a nice place, this should be it.

The kiss doesn’t stop, and when it does Frank is all over your face, painting it with wet kisses and sweet praises you know you don’t deserve. He keeps rubbing it slowly until he decides it’s enough not for you but him and takes off your sweatpants that, at this point, where further down your shins.

He unbuttoned his pants earlier, predicting the big bother they would turn out, it wasn’t very useful after all, he tugged down the elastic of his boxer along his jeans, you glance down his girth, the tip coated in a wet deep pink.

—“Open up for me baby, would you?” You nod eagerly but he does it for you, rising one of your legs up to his shoulder since you are on your side, he slides part of his forearm down your other knee, guiding it to rest around his hip.

His entrance not so complicated since your wet and slippery like that, the soft sting making you back up a little but he holds you steady, a palm anchored between the crease made of your abdomen and thigh, doesn’t waste his time, coating his thumb in your slick to circle on your swollen bud with the right pressure to make you squeal.

He recognizes when it’s too much for you, eyebrows scrunched and incoherent whimpers, even more now that you are bouncing so much by the force of every thrust he gives you.

He hits that spot over and over, it is so intense you feel the need to grasp onto something but there’s nothing to hold onto, you’re high, sweaty, head lulling until you fix on him, he’s concentrated, grunting over the way you make him feel, burying his fingers in the soft of your skin, and he’s drunk, glaring at you though hooded eyes, god, you’re close, you feel it like a effervescent pill, pushing its bubbles to the surface.

You’re are good at recognize when it’s to much for him too, the disorganized rubs over your clit make you clench on him repeatedly, you would laugh at his efforts to hold together if you weren’t so down bad yourself. His red cheeks, his red chest too, that vein he has on the left of his neck which seemed even more noticeable when was close.

—“Coating me so freaking good baby just keep it like that.” It came out hushed, and you don’t really know if it was the surprise or the shame at his words that shoved you straight into a catastrophic fall beyond the border, but you came, and you came hard, like an implosion, constricted inside of you, throat wrapped on itself.

He did the same, the pulses of your walls swallowed him, and let’s be honest, there was no more bearing left inside of him. His last thrusts came along with loud pants, leaving all his seed in your insides.

Soft strokes of his thumb on your belly were the stimuli which dragged you out of the cloud nine bliss. His head resting near the creek of your neck, his warm breaths over your skin sweet-talking you to doze off.

Your hand found a nice place on his head to scratch, his hair not long enough to tangle but to hide your fingers.

—“Hey, message from earth to the space, are you alright? Do you copy?” Following that, you feel the low rumble of his chest, at least he wasn’t that ‘mad’.

—“Yeah, i’m near the moon now, over.” A chaste kiss is left on your cheek as he raises himself from you. You blush.

—“Agh Frank, that was so corny.” You fake annoyance, the little pull of the corners of your mouth sells you out.

He disappears into the darkness of your hallway. You take the break to get up from the rigid marble table, realizing how much you needed that. After a satisfying stretch, you take your panties off the floor putting them back on you, and serve two glasses of water.

As you engulf your own, you hear him come back stepping more than needed in your leaving room, he drinks the glass you left for him and you turn around to see. You know you shouldn’t feel puzzled by it but you really thought he would stay the night.

Jacket on and his disheveled hair gone, you find yourself astonished by the way the rough angles of his face seemed to soften in such private moments, specially now that his features casted drastic shadows, evoked the looks of a skull, so severe, so stern, is like nothing happened.

You lay your back on the chilly plastic of your fridge, glass is still in hand.

—“Hey, you know you don’t need to leave? It’s pretty late and cold outside, i know you give a fuck about risky so i’m im not bringing that up.” You taunt him, he’s flipping through those goddamn papers again. Finally, he finds what he was searching for. He folds them and buries them in his pocket.

—“Work needs to be done.” And he’s using that cold edge to his voice. It shrinks your heart, but it doesn’t matter, what you feel, it doesn’t.

—“Yeah, whatever,” you do a brief pause, noticing the fidgeting of his fingers, he’s always anxious, despite knowing each other for so long, you can’t entirely read him the way you’d like.

—“I’ll close the door for you.”

—“I have keys y-”

—“Yes Frank i know you do, i gave ‘em to you, c’mon.” You walk down the main door again, the breeze of the night wrapping your bare legs which he is covering with his frame.

—“Take care Frank, i don’t want to stitch your ass together for the hundredth time.” It is a constant struggle, every time he goes away you live it as if it were the last time, it could be both death or the bitter realization that perhaps you weren’t as useful to him, not as relevant as you think you are, both reasons could take him away from you, although you never had him in first place.

You meet his eyes, he was already looking at you, he is pondering something, gears turning in that head of his.

—“Don’t worry about that,” Suddenly he wraps an arm around your waist, hugging you close enough to peck you on the forehead.

—“Y’know you ain’t needa worry ‘bout me.” He caresses the small of your back, you wish he was easier to convince, at this point, and with a lot of persuasion, he’d be happily sleeping on your bed.

You find yourself hugging him tighter, inhaling the scent of his clothes until you let go, your eyes shimmer with something raw, a fresh cut of your vulnerability, he’s aware, he kisses you on the lips, useless like a band-aid on a broken bone. There is no more he can do, regardless. Once you close the door, you are left with the frigid air lingering in your living room.

It’s not that late for a few tears and a couple of wine glasses.

[helliloveit]

Heavens

First fanfic ever, didn’t proofread and on top of that my english is not that good so pardon me please, and let me know if i need to fix something.

Benjamin “Dex” Poindexter x reader

Warnings: Dark!Dex, reader is kinda dark too, fluff(?, Dex is obsessed with you, he stalks you.

W.c: 800

Summary: Your coworker enters your home while you’re asleep; you don’t know what to think.

You move swiftly the key in the lock of the main door of your house, your steps always so light, your body so relaxed, the lack of sleep turning down your system even before you allowed it to do. The purse landing on your kitchen aisle, the sound of your shoes tackling no-sense on the floor as you take them off. Then the shower, your work is so damn tiring, he knows, cause little later you fall on the bed in a deep, very deep slumber.

It is so deep you can’t hear him entering there, your room, to look at you sleeping peacefully, your chest rising and falling rhythmically, your skin so soft he is aching to manhandle it between his fingers, but he’s better than that, right?

It’s okay if he tracks all your schedule, know all your friends, your likes and dislikes, your eccentric music taste, the name of your last cat that, by the way, disappeared last year when he escaped into the streets, a rainy night, just like this one. None of this had you told him, but for Dex, it doesn’t matter as long as you don’t know, after all, he’s keeping you safe.

He does remember your teary face, the way those brows contorted and the eyes, red and glassy, he did his best consoling you, yes he did, cause since then, you haven’t stop greeting him with a hug and a smile at the office, your beautiful smile, yes, he’s sure, you may love him.

———————————————————————————

You have known him for a while now, looked like the type of person who knew what to say and how to say it in the exact moment needed, weird thing cause he doesn’t talk much and that certainly made you like him, he reminded you of yourself, calm, silent yet observant, you were taught that the less you talk, the less you expressed yourself, the better the people around you will treat you. You weren’t sure if that was his reasons though, sometimes, when your eyes met his briefly, his own orbs, blue and colorful, looked empty, colorless, void, once bright teals turn themselves into dark greys without any emotion, any hint of humanity in them. And then you felt something like…dread, your mouth dry but your treacherous heart would be at the pit of your throat, and that described perfectly how you feel for him just right now.

You suspect that a rough thumb grazing your lower lip made you stumble outta your dreams, you were quick when the light coming from the window parallel to your bed faltered. A broad figure stood right by your side, you didn’t scream, or shoved him away, your blood froze inside your veins, and you was left there, like a small cat who knows that the best thing to do was stay quiet and hold together until the predator loses interest in them. This wasn’t the case.

—“I’m sorry-” His voice cracks the chill silence of the room.

“Dex? How could you-” a humid breeze grazes your skin and you suddenly don’t need any answers. He turns himself back to close the window when he notices your squint. That was the perfect opportunity to knock him down, the base of your lamp is hard enough to make him fall for a good 3 minutes, which will help you get out of the house and shout for aid, but a part of you didn’t want that. Hell if you weren’t twisted too, if you didn’t want to know how deep the emptiness of his soul will lead you.

—“Im so sorry princess i- just needed to see you.” Your face contorts in confusion, you left your shift 4 hours ago, last time you saw him.

—“Dex this is so weird i-”

—“No.” His tone is severe, stops you from settling seated on the bed. —“Please just-… i wont do anything to you just…” his knee rest tentatively on the soft mattress, you gulp, your eyes fixed in his, he seems troubled, debates with himself, fighting his urges inside his mind. A hand crossed the little space between you both to caress the side of your neck, his head tilts until his forehead is resting on yours, his shallow breathing tickling your skin.

—“Let me stay here a little longer, please…” he almost whimpers, his hand growing cold in your cheek, He must be nervous, like the world is one step away from crumbling beneath his feet.

—“This won’t happen again, i promise-” How could you say no when he is rambling and begging like this? You knew this is twisted but this isn’t like he assaulted you, is it?

You scoot over to make enough space for him in your sheets, he trails back but he catches it soon, you are offering him a warm space in your bed, a scene he has only witnessed in his most intimate dreams. He’s not dumb to let it slide so he takes off his not so wet jacket now and kick his boots away.

Sweet heavens, he feels your respiration on his neck now, so warm, so vulnerable, so his. He got it done, he got you, his method pretty away to be conventional, but that doesn’t matter anymore, no when you have your leg and arm draped over him.

Anyways he wasn’t going to leave if you told him no. Maybe he needs to put some flowers in that kitty’s grave.