Summary: Hunted by Fisk’s men and haunted by Dex’s shadow, you drift through shelters, orphanages, butcher shops, and memories trying to outrun what you’ve become tied to. With Matt Murdock offering protection and a way out, you’re forced to confront whether you can truly stand against the man you understand too well.
Cw: Violence, blood, firearms, emotional dependency, coercive behavior, toxic intimacy, abandonment issues, suicidal ideation, trauma, grief, panic responses, psychological instability, obsessive attachment, manipulation, and morally distressing relationship dynamics.
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♰╰♯₊⊹Masterlist♰╰♯₊⊹
You wake to cold air brushing across damp skin.
For a second, you don’t understand where you are.
The apartment is dark.
Only the distant blue glow of the city spills through the open window.
The curtains still hang parted.
The night wind moves lazily through the room, stirring papers somewhere near your desk.
Your body feels heavy with sleep.
You blink slowly.
Right.
Home.
You must have fallen asleep after the shower.
You remember laying down “just for a minute,” too exhausted to even dress properly afterward.
Your towel still clings loosely around your body.
Your hair is still slightly damp against the pillow.
You let out a tired breath—
Then freeze.
Something heavy rests across your chest.
Your hand instinctively comes up to touch it.
Leather.
You frown slightly.
Dex’s jacket.
You don’t remember pulling it over yourself.
And then—
that feeling.
Sharp.
Cold.
Instant.
Your eyes snap fully open.
Already looking toward the end of the bed before your mind even catches up.
And there—
sitting silently in the chair beside your bed—
is Dex.
Watching you.
The city light cuts faintly across his face, leaving half of him swallowed in darkness.
For one horrible second, he looks almost unfamiliar sitting there.
Not the man from the apartment.
Not the man who folded your clothes.
Not the man who cooked dinner barefoot in your kitchen.
Just—
someone waiting in the dark.
A stranger wearing Dex’s face.
You jolt upright immediately, clutching the towel and the leather jacket tightly against your chest like armor.
The movement makes Dex shift slightly.
And suddenly—
his eyes change.
Life slips back into them the second he realizes you’re awake.
“Easy,” he says quietly.
“Easy.”
He leans back slowly from where he had been sitting forward with his elbows on his knees.
His palms flatten deliberately against his thighs.
Like he’s trying to make himself appear smaller.
Less threatening.
You just stare at him.
Your heart pounds violently against your ribs.
Fear twists through you but so does something worse—
uncertainty.
You don’t even know what you’re supposed to feel right now.
Anger?
Relief?
Grief?
You don’t know.
None of them fit cleanly enough.
Dex studies you quietly for another second before speaking again.
“You shouldn’t sleep with the blinds open.”
The sentence catches you completely off guard.
Not anger.
Not accusations.
Not why did you leave me.
Just—
that.
Dex tilts his head slightly toward the window.
“The rooftop four buildings down has a clear line of sight into your room.”
Your throat tightens.
You glance instinctively toward the open window before looking back at him.
“…Is that how you found me?”
Dex doesn’t answer.
Not really.
His gaze drifts briefly toward the city outside instead, thoughtful in that distant way he gets sometimes.
Blue light sharpens the angles of his face.
Makes him look colder.
“Took longer than it should’ve,” he mutters quietly.
Then his expression flattens again.
“Fisk wants you dead.”
The words land heavily in the room.
You go still.
Dex lets out a dry, humorless chuckle.
“Pretty sure he wants me dead too.”
Your stomach twists.
Of course.
Of course Fisk would.
But hearing it said aloud makes it real in a way your mind had been avoiding.
Dex looks strangely calm about it.
Detached.
Like he’s discussing weather damage instead of a death sentence.
“A lot of stuff in the apartment’s gone,” he says after a moment. “Fisk bombed the place.”
Your eyes widen slightly.
Bombed.
The apartment.
That sterile, lifeless place that slowly became… something else.
Something lived in.
Your mind flashes suddenly—
The bed.
The bathtub filled with bubbles.
The kitchen counter where you sat watching him cook.
The quiet mornings.
The stupid music CDs he likes.
The bruises.
The softness.
Gone.
All of it gone.
Dex’s gaze lowers toward the jacket clutched tightly against your chest.
“At least the jacket survived.”
He says it with another faint dry laugh.
Something painful tightens sharply inside you.
You hate that it hurts.
Hate that the loss of that apartment feels strangely devastating.
Like something fragile died there too.
The room falls quiet again.
The city hums faintly outside.
Finally, your voice comes out small.
“…What are you going to do?”
What you almost asked was,
What are we going to do?
But the word dies before it reaches your mouth.
Because you don’t know if ‘we’ even exists anymore.
Dex watches you carefully.
Then says simply,
“I think we should leave.”
A pause.
“Just you and me.”
You stare at him.
That’s it?
That’s his answer?
Run away?
After everything?
After Jasper.
After your father.
After all the blood left behind in his wake.
He just… leaves?
Your chest tightens painfully.
And when you finally speak, your voice comes out hesitant but firm.
“No.”
For the first time since you woke up, Dex visibly reacts.
His brows pull together slightly.
“…No?”
You swallow hard.
“No.”
Your fingers tighten around the jacket.
“I don’t want to do this anymore.”
Your throat burns.
“I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.”
Dex’s brows pull together immediately.
A flicker of irritation crosses his face.
“Well,” he says carefully, “that’s not how this works.”
You stare at him silently.
“Just because you don’t want to do this anymore doesn’t mean there’s another option.”
“There’s always another option.”
The words leave you faster than you intended.
Raw.
Desperate.
“There’s always another choice. Just because it looks like there isn’t doesn’t mean—”
“Y/N,” Dex cuts in sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “Please don’t give me that motivational crap from one of your books right now.”
His voice sounds strained.
Like he’s dragging patience out of himself thread by thread.
“I don’t know what that fancy smug in Hell’s Kitchen told you,” he mutters, “but whatever fantasy he sold you isn’t gonna work.”
Your chest tightens.
“But what he said was the right thing to do.”
Dex lets out a dry, humorless laugh.
“The right thing to do?”
He looks at you like the phrase itself offends him.
“So putting me in prison is the right thing to do?”
“Yes.”
The answer comes quicker this time.
Stronger.
“You kill people, for God’s sake.”
Your voice cracks.
“You kill people like they’re grocery lists.”
Something hard flashes across Dex’s face.
His jaw clenches tightly.
“Oh, you know what I am.”
The words come low now.
Dangerously calm.
“You know exactly what I do.”
A beat.
“And why I do it.”
His eyes pin you in place.
“You do.”
Your throat closes.
Because you do know.
That’s the horrible part.
You understand him in ways you wish you didn’t.
You understand the emptiness.
The impulses.
The fractures inside him.
And somehow that understanding makes all of this worse instead of easier.
Dex watches your silence carefully before continuing.
“You looked the other way back at home.”
His voice sharpens slightly.
“So what makes a difference now?”
“The difference is back then I didn’t have a choice!”
The words rip out of you.
Dex stares at you for half a second.
Then laughs again in disbelief.
“There’s always another choice, isn’t there?”
His voice twists mockingly around your earlier words.
“Just because it looks like there isn’t—”
“Screw you.”
The room goes still.
Your breathing shakes violently now.
“I don’t care what you say to me anymore.”
Tears burn hot behind your eyes.
“I’m not going back with you and that’s final.”
The words hit him harder than shouting would have.
You can actually see it happen.
Like something caves inward behind his expression.
Dex goes silent.
For a second he just breathes.
Once.
Twice.
Like something carefully rehearsed inside his head suddenly stopped following the script.
Then quietly—
“Y/N…”
His voice cracks faintly.
“You can’t do this to me.”
Your heart clenches painfully.
“You can’t—”
Suddenly he stands.
“YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME.”
You flinch violently backward against the bed.
Dex looks horrified at himself for half a second after shouting.
Then furious.
Then desperate all over again.
“You can’t give me heaven,” he says shakily, “and then rip it away from me and expect me not to fight for it.”
His breathing comes uneven now.
He drags both hands down his face harshly before climbing slowly onto the end of the bed.
You immediately recoil farther back.
“Stay back.”
“Please.”
Dex’s voice breaks around the word.
“Please, Y/N.”
You shake your head rapidly.
“We—we had something good.”
He crawls slightly closer.
“You gave me something stable—something to work with.”
His eyes stay fixed desperately on yours.
“Something real.”
His voice lowers.
“We’re good for each other.”
The last sentence sounds less like belief—
and more like a fact he’s trying to force into existence.
You shake your head harder.
Tears spill down your face now.
“No.”
Your throat aches.
“No, we weren’t.”
Dex freezes.
“It was good for you,” you whisper brokenly. “Not for me.”
Your chest trembles painfully.
“You don’t even know me.”
Silence.
Dex stares at you for a long moment.
Then quietly—
“Your favorite food is cotton candy.”
You blink.
“The first thing you order on a menu is always the first thing your eyes land on.”
Your face slowly pales.
“Your favorite color is mint green.”
Dex’s voice remains frighteningly calm.
“You hate white walls.”
“You like jasmine.”
“You sleep curled toward the window.”
Your breathing becomes shallow.
“Your favorite season is autumn.”
“You like poppies because your mother paints them.”
“You listen to jazz when you can’t sleep.”
Every sentence lands like a hand pulling open another drawer inside you.
Memorized.
Categorized.
Known.
You stare at him in disbelief as he continues listing pieces of you like reciting scripture.
“Stop.”
Dex keeps going.
“You read the last page of books before finishing them because you’re scared of endings.”
“Stop.”
“You bite the inside of your cheek when you’re anxious.”
“You hate hospitals because they smell too clean.”
“STOP!”
The shout cracks through the apartment.
Silence slams down afterward.
Dex stops immediately.
His head lowers slowly.
You can’t see his eyes anymore.
Only the way his hand tightens hard against your bedsheets.
Wrinkling them in his fist.
Like he’s physically holding himself together.
When he speaks again, his voice sounds broken.
Small.
“Just tell me what I need to do.”
Your breath catches painfully.
“Tell me what I need to be…”
His shoulders shake once.
“And I’ll be it.”
Your heart breaks at the sound.
Dex finally looks back up at you.
His eyes are wet now.
Actually wet.
And somehow that terrifies you more than his anger did.
“I feel more like myself with you,” he says quietly, “than I ever have in my whole life.”
A sob catches in your throat.
Dex looks at you almost pleadingly now.
Not manipulative.
Not charming.
Just raw desperation.
“Please.”
His voice trembles.
“Please, doll.”
Another step closer across the mattress.
“Please, baby.”
Your entire body shakes.
But still—
“No.”
The word comes out barely audible.
You shake your head weakly through tears.
“I can’t.”
You pull the jacket tighter around yourself like it might protect you from the look on his face.
“I won’t go back with you.”
And instantly—
Dex changes.
It happens so fast it nearly gives you whiplash.
The desperation vanishes.
The pleading.
The grief.
Gone.
His expression smooths into something terrifyingly blank.
Cold.
Controlled.
Like a switch being flipped behind his eyes.
And suddenly the man kneeling on your bed no longer looks heartbroken.
He looks dangerous again.
“You’re a coward.”
Dex says it so calmly—
so flatly—
that for a second you genuinely think you imagined it.
Your face tightens slightly.
“…What?”
“You’re a coward.”
His voice stays eerily expressionless.
No shouting.
No emotion.
Which somehow makes it worse.
Dex sits there on your bed looking at you like he’s studying something disappointing.
“You keep running.”
A pause.
“You run from everything.”
You stare at him in disbelief.
Did he really just say that?
Dex suddenly lets out a hollow laugh under his breath.
One hand comes up to wipe roughly beneath his eyes, smearing away the tears that had almost fallen moments ago like they disgust him now.
“God.”
He shakes his head slightly at himself.
“And here I thought you were something perfect.”
The words scrape colder now.
“Something worth all this trouble.”
Something twists painfully across your face.
Because you can feel what he’s doing.
Feel him retreating somewhere crueler inside himself.
Like he’s trying to cut you apart before you can leave him behind first.
You swallow hard.
“I never said I was perfect.”
Dex’s head snaps toward you immediately.
Actually offended.
Like the statement itself wounds him.
“No.”
He crawls a little closer across the mattress again.
“You could’ve been.”
His voice sharpens.
“You could’ve become something great.”
Another step closer.
“But you’re a coward.”
“Stop,” you whisper immediately, shrinking farther back. “Don’t come closer—”
“You can’t commit to anything.”
Dex keeps advancing slowly across the bed.
“You can’t commit to turning me in.”
“You can’t commit to giving your statement.”
His jaw tightens.
“You could’ve gone to the police.”
“You could’ve testified.”
“You could’ve watched Fisk have me killed in prison.”
The words sound almost accusing now.
“You could’ve done all that.”
Another crawl forward.
“But you ran.”
Dex stares directly into your eyes.
“And I thought…”
For the first time, his voice cracks slightly again.
“I thought maybe you ran because you felt something for me.”
Your chest tightens painfully.
“Or maybe because you were waiting for me.”
His hand suddenly reaches out and cups your face.
You flinch immediately at the contact.
Eyes wide.
Like prey realizing the predator got too close.
Dex notices.
And something dark flickers across his expression.
“So here I am,” he says quietly, thumb pressing against your cheek, “giving you a way out.”
His face inches closer.
“And you still won’t choose me.”
“No—that’s not—”
“That’s exactly what this is!”
The sudden shout explodes out of him so violently it makes you jerk backward.
“You can’t commit to loving me!”
His grip tightens painfully around your jaw now.
“You can’t commit to hating me!”
His face is inches from yours.
“What the fuck can you do?!”
Fear slams through you instantly.
You shove hard against his chest instinctively.
“GET OFF!”
Dex loses balance just enough—
And in one frantic movement, your hand shoots toward your shoulder bag near the headboard.
Your fingers close around cold metal.
You pull it out blindly—
And point it straight at him.
Silence.
Dex freezes immediately.
Your hands shake violently around the gun.
Dex’s gun.
The one you stole from the safe the night Nadeem and the masked man got you out.
For the first time tonight—
Dex actually looks surprised.
Not angry.
Not afraid.
Surprised.
He slowly leans back to sit on his heels across the mattress.
His eyes stay locked on the gun.
Then flick upward toward you.
And unbelievably—
something almost proud flickers across his expression.
Like he’s impressed.
“I was wondering where that went.”
“Shut up.”
Your voice cracks violently.
The gun trembles in your grip.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Dex’s gaze stays fixed on you.
On the gun.
On the way your hands tremble around it.
Then quietly—
almost thoughtfully—
“You know…”
A faint smirk touches his face.
“I never felt what I feel for you with anyone.”
“Stop.”
Your voice breaks around the word.
Dex ignores it.
“I can’t explain it.” He tilts his head slightly. “What I feel for you goes beyond reason.”
A pause.
“Or maybe there is a reason.” His eyes narrow faintly, like he’s trying to solve something inside himself even now. “Maybe I just haven’t figured it out yet.”
A small, wounded sound escapes your throat before you can stop it.
Because he’s looking at you now.
Really looking at you.
And for one terrifying second there’s something almost clear inside his eyes.
Something painfully honest.
Then—
“You know I tried to kill myself?”
Your entire body freezes.
Dex watches the shock spread across your face.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “With that exact gun.”
Your grip falters instinctively.
The barrel dips for half a second before you tighten your hands around it again.
Dex continues calmly.
“When I thought I lost my job… when I thought I lost everything…”
His gaze drifts somewhere distant.
“I was gonna do it at the dining table.”
Your breathing grows shallow.
“The same seat you used to sit in.”
You stare at him like you can’t process the image.
Dex lets out a faint breath through his nose.
“But Fisk called.”
His expression hardens slightly at the name.
“One phone call.”
A pause.
“That was enough to save my life.”
The room feels unbearably quiet now.
“He didn’t just save me,” Dex says. “He gave me purpose.”
Then slowly—
his eyes lift back to yours.
And suddenly he looks almost confused by what he’s about to admit.
Like even he doesn’t fully understand it.
“But I turned my back on him.”
Another pause.
“To choose you.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
You need it.
Need the silence just to absorb what he said.
Dex’s eyes begin watering again.
“I choose you,” he whispers.
His voice cracks apart.
“Every goddamn time.”
Then suddenly he shifts closer.
Until the barrel of the gun presses directly between his brows.
You gasp softly at the movement.
Dex reaches up slowly and adjusts your wrist slightly.
“Stabilize your hand,” he murmurs gently.
Your breathing stutters violently.
“Otherwise the bullet won’t go straight.”
His voice stays terrifyingly calm.
“It’ll just blow apart my skull and make a mess.”
“No.”
The word leaves you instantly.
“No.”
“I got nothing to live for if you won’t see me.”
Your eyes burn hot.
“So come on.”
He closes the remaining distance himself.
“Do it.”
“Stop.”
Your voice sounds small now.
Broken.
“Please.”
Dex’s eyes soften faintly at that.
“It’s been so long…”
The words sound exhausted.
Not dramatic.
Not manipulative.
Just tired.
Tired of existing inside himself.
Tired of trying to understand what he feels and what he doesn’t.
He closes his eyes.
And whispers—
“Shoot me.”
“No.”
“Shoot me.”
“Stop…”
Then—
Dex speaks again.
shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me choose me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me shoot me
SHOOT ME
Something inside you finally snaps.
Fear.
Grief.
Love.
Anger.
All of it tangles together so violently you can’t breathe around it anymore.
And then—
CRACK
The room goes dead silent.
Your chest heaves violently.
For one horrible second—
Dex’s body goes limp.
You stare at him in absolute horror.
Then—
“Ha…”
A breath.
“…haha…”
Dex’s shoulders begin shaking.
And suddenly—
he starts laughing.
You blink rapidly.
Disoriented.
The gunshot never came.
Dex’s head is turned sharply to the side from where you slammed the gun across his face instead.
Blood spills instantly from his nose in thick streams.
You definitely broke it.
But Dex doesn’t seem to care.
Slowly—
he turns back toward you.
And the expression on his face terrifies you more than anything else tonight.
Pure joy.
Not relief.
Not amusement.
Ecstasy.
Like he just experienced something holy.
The gun slips from your fingers.
It hits the floor beside the bed with a dull clatter.
“Oh God—”
You lunge toward him immediately.
Your hands hover shakily near his face, afraid to touch him and unable not to.
“Ben—I—”
Before you can finish—
Dex grabs you.
Fast.
Desperate.
Pulling you hard into his lap.
And then he kisses you.
Violently.
Hungrily.
Like he’s starving.
The force of it knocks the breath from your lungs.
You should push him away.
You know you should.
But all the fear and guilt and horrible aching truth inside you finally collapses under the weight of it.
Because you missed him.
God—
you missed him.
And when you kiss him back, Dex makes a broken sound against your mouth like he can’t believe it.
The kiss tastes metallic.
Blood.
His blood.
Dex kisses you like actions are the only language he knows how to speak fluently.
His mouth drags from your lips to your cheek.
To your jaw.
To the skin beneath your ear.
Leaving smears of blood across your skin in messy streaks.
Marking you.
Holding you.
Like every emotion inside him has nowhere else to go except through touch.
His arms tighten around you almost painfully.
And tangled there against him—
breathing him in—
feeling his heartbeat hammering wildly beneath your hands—
right and wrong stop meaning anything coherent anymore.
There is only this.
Only him.
Only the terrible familiarity of being held by the one thing that ruins you and makes you feel understood at the exact same time.
A.N: Me edging everyone along the ride just for the last scene of the chapter. I'm really proud of how Dex and reader's confrontation scene turns out. I actually have a lot of line ideas and topics to brought up for this scene but I narrow it down to be what it is now for the final take. I hope you guys enjoyed it cause I surely did. It has been quiet a blast to write this series. Butttttt unfortuantely 🥁🥁🥁🥁 the next chapter will be the last.
Yes it has been quiet a joy ride but like they say. All journies must come to an end. So the next chapter will be the last of this series. I appreciate every support you guys gave me and because of that. I will spoil you guys the title of the coming chapter so you guys can anticipate on what it could be🤔🤔🤔🤔.
I was heavily inspired by dex x karen scene in ddba, so I thought, 'why not write again?' so here we are.
first thing first, 18+, DNI. not use of y/n. smut with plot ( yeah idk). i like to argentine headcanon people (as an argentinian myself) so, reader is latina lol. a few argentinian swearing.
cursing. unprotected sex lol. a little of biting. gunplay WOHOO. smut smut smut with softy softyyyyy. I think I didn't forget anything 🏃♀️🏃♀️
of course, english is not my first language so, I hope and pray that everything is okay lol.
It was early in the morning, birds singing alongside the city, cars, buses making their usual noise, one that you were very used to.
You woke up by the ring of your phone, loud and clear -you were a light sleeper-groaning in defeat you launched your hand to the nightstand to grab it only to see a name on the screen...one that when it calls, it means trouble or help. Matt.
In this case was both. sort of. Matt's voice sounded steady over the phone, but you knew better, he was holding something back, something he wouldn't tell you through the phone, and you, well... didn't ask what was going on. Until you went to Frank's safe house -where karen and matt were hiding these past few weeks- and right in that moment, you regretted not asking at the time.
"the fuck?" you said, your gaze focused on matt with furrowed eyebrows to then landing on a blonde, muscular man on a bed, tied up, with each hand handcuffed onto the mattress.
"I know what it looks like-" Matt tried to say
"the fuck you don't, man" you interrupted. confusion, disgust and a little of anger crawling up the edges of your voice.
Matt didn't say a word after that, just nodded for a second, waiting for you to talk.
"Matt....have you lost your mind?..." you said, looking at him now, and then looking at Karen who was sitting on a chair, looking elsewhere instead of the scene unfolding between you and Matt.
"I don't think you agreed to this circus." you said, looking at Karen before your eyes drifted to matt again.
"You're one of the few people we trust. that I, trust. I wouldn't have called you if it wasn't necessary." he said. And it drove you mad at how that settled, because it was true.
You knew Matt from a few years back, you helped him in rough times, healing him, patching him up, the type of thing, that when the time passes, you unwillingly start to trust each other.
"You know I'm not a fucking doctor- he needs a doctor, of people- fucking look at him. He's...." she said while looking in between matt and ....
"He is him. I know what he did to you. to both of you" you looked past matt to look at karen.
"Why....tell me...why should I cure him? huh?....and don't tell me that catholic crap, because even you...in times like these, you don't believe in that shit anymore....forgivess...all that bullshit. He doesn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve that I- you scoffed a laugh- a fucking veterinarian, should cure him." you shrugged your shoulders looking away from Matt.
"I need some air." Karen said, breaking the silence that was stretching minutes back. she stood up from her chair and left the safehouse, leaving you, matt...and him. alone.
"If we set him free, he will kill Fisk. And he will become a martyr, you know that." Matt said in a steady almost whisper.
"And then, we will win absolutely nothing. nothing." he ends.
you sighed, hand on the breach of your nose, cursing under your breath
"fuc-fine! fine...you and your stupid moral. One day it will get you killed." you said absolutely pissed off.
"thank yo-" he was starting to say until you interrupted him
"Save it. Go get your girl. Now let me work." you said sharply but not unkind.
Matt just nodded in thanks before walking off through the door, leaving you...alone. with him.
you sighed heavily. "la puta madre." you cursed under your breath as you approached the bed where he was on.
"Quién me manda a hacer esta mierda/ Who is telling me to do this shit." you said, out loud, pissed off, annoyed. annoyed with yourself even, because part of you, knows that you shouldn't be here, alone with him. But-hell- this was a favor to your friend, so fuck it.
You sat on a chair next to the bed as you settled your bag with the necessary, aid kit, gauzes, antiseptic, even adrenaline. you never know.
"fuck" you exhaled as your hands went to open the bag and grabbed a needle and thread to start patching him up.
A long 20 minutes passed. he was still asleep, breathing slowly, steady. That was odd.
When you were about to put a gauze on a nasty cut on his ribs, a big, strong, callused hand wrapped around your wrist. Quickly, as your other hand wasn't empty, you moved the scissors to his throat.
You met his eyes. breathing heavy. confused. scared.
"let go or I swear I will cut your throat." you managed to say
he didn't do that, instead he tilted his head to a side, studying you, like a feline analyzing its prey. he slightly furrowed his eyebrows. confused?
"You ....." he scoffed lightly "You seem familiar." he finished, before sitting up right on the mattress, his grip on your wrist still intact.
"Let go." you said .
"hmmm...." he said savoring the tone of your voice.
"you're not from here, aren't you?"
"it's none of your fucking busin-" you started to said before dex interrupted
"Oh, no?" dex said, tone with a cadence of sarcasm. "You are the one who's touching me."
The two of you stayed like this for a few seconds, even tho it felt like hours, he let go. a soft smirk on his lips. steady gaze on you. heavy like a warm blanket in a cold night.
You pulled back, sharp gaze on him now. dick. you thought.
"....So....." he started to say. "You're the other little friend of the Daredevil..." tone amused like if it was the most thrilling fact he could collect at this moment.
you cut him up in this nonsense of rambling. "Don't start."
"Now, if you stop being an asshole-"
dex interrupted you again. "He can't protect you..."
you furrowed your eyebrows confused about what he's getting at
"...but I can." he added.
you scoffed a laugh, shaking your head. unbelievable
"yeah? who said I want your damn protection?" you said now even more pissed off by his audacity to say such a stupid thing. protection. yeah, sure.
he was about to speak when you cut him up, closing your eyes for a second, lifting a hand in the air. "I don't need that shit." so you grabbed the needle and thread again to start working on the wound on his ribs.
"Now. shut. the. hell. up." you said, glaring at him.
he smiled. fucking smiled. what the fuck is wrong with this man. muscular...big...handsom- get it together
you sighed before pulling yourself closer to start working on his wounds again.
As you work, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, hands moving swiftly on his skin with practiced ease, making him groan and hiss by the pull and back of the needle between your fingers- why is he so warm?--stop it. You brushed off that fucking thought- fucking dangerous thought...of....of...trailing your hands on his strong, huge chest- WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU.
He cleared his throat. "Something on your mind?" his tone a little cocky for someone in his position.
you didn't answer.
That caught even more his attention. the crooked smile came back with full force on his lips. "Care to share with the class? hmm?"
that 'hmm?' shouldn't have affected you the way it did. You looked up at him. "No." you answered
he chuckled "C'mon...tell me." his voice was rough, with an undertone of plea. "I really don't have elsewhere to go...so, go on. What was on your mind, minutes ago?" his gaze is steady on you. only you. keeping you caged.
you cleared your throat "Nothing." you said trying to keep it together.
"you sure?" he tilted his head to a side.
you couldn't take it anymore, that smug tone, fucking cocky son of a bitch wanted to get a rise of you. and well, he made it.
"que mierda querés? eh?/what the fuck do you want?" you said, your accent more prominent by the storm inside your body, fueled by his demeanor.
that outburst of yours made his pupils go wide. he liked it.
you scoffed while you stood up from the chair, and walked towards the table where it was your bag, giving him your back.
you could feel his gaze on you, following, tracking all your moves.
"You're easier to rile up..." he started. "Not like your friend dressed in red -he chuckled, deep and rough- I just had to say foggy's name-"
you tensed at the mention of foggy. you didn't know foggy too well, but you knew how his death-murder-affected Matt. you exhaled the anger out of your lungs.
"-and then he'd lose it." he continued. "And he did." his voice triumphant, low.
"shut up." you said low, trying to steady your voice trying to bury all the emotions you were feeling right now.
"what was that?" he taunted. " I didn't catch that-"
you couldn't take it anymore. in a few quick steps you approached the bed and slapped him right on the face, making it move to a side.
"I said shut the fuck up!" you said. your hand burning slightly by the hit of your slap connecting on his face
silence.
his eyes looked up at you. a twisted smile on his lips. amused even. "feisty" he murmured
you furrowed your eyebrows again. at this point that could be your expression forever.
"I'm tired of your shit." you said, turning around to gather your things and put them in the bag. next to it. a gun. karen must have forgotten it. you stared at it a moment longer than you should have. as you shook your head to think about something else, and kept gathering your things, that irritating-alluring-sexy-deep-voice--(what??) talked again.
"you know I could take him down." he said.
and you knew about who he was talking about. fisk.
you chuckled bitterly "yeah, not doing that."
"oh? and why's that?" he responded, his eyes sizing you up.
finally you turned around to look directly at him.
"you know why. you can't kill him....even- even if it was the most tempting plan we have in our minds. you can't kill him." you said crossing your arms against your chest.
you two look at each other for a long moment. "we are fucked anyways" you said, looking away, your gaze landing at the gun on the table.
he hummed, eyes locked on your figure. "use it." he said softly and deep. the kind of tone that can make anyone melt in the spot.
you shook your head towards his direction "what?"
"I said, use it. I know you want to." he said
a beat.
she scoffed "you're unbelievable. fucking clown" you said, taking a step forward.
"do you really think I want to shoot you?" you laughed "dios santo- you're full of yourself, aren't you?" you tilted your head to a side
"if I wanted you dead, I would have put a fucking needle full of air in your heart, sweetheart." the nickname coming out with sarcasm and laced with sharpness.
"matt underestimates you." he stated.
"what'd you mean? you don't know shit about us." you responded
he smirked. that damn smirk. would it be a lie if you say that you didn't like it- what the fuck??
"i know enough." he said shrugging his shoulders- his broad, muscular shoulders--CONTROL IT
"sure you do."
"I mean it...you're his guard dog....in a sense. Every time, you're there... to patch him up...to cure him...when he ever did that to you? hmm?..." he was taunting. walking on thin ice, but he liked it. he wanted to see you snap like before.
"you don't know anything." you said
"when he ever paid back the favor?...never. You know why? huh? because he doesn't care...you're expendable... you're another dead body...you don't realize it just yet. Like Foggy, you'll be forgotte-"
that did it. you snapped. grabbed the gun unlocked the safe and walked straight towards the bed
"shut the hell up" you said. "you don't know shit. you don't know what I have been through. you're just a fucking psycho with family issues, waiting like a sick puppy for someone who will throw a bone so you can go and catch it." the gun pointing right at him.
but instead of being upset, he looked.....dazed? His gaze on you. only you. But you were too far gone at this point that you didn't care about his gaze, or ragged breathing, pupils wide, lips parted.
"you try to sound cocky, confident...you're just a little insecure man, hiding behind a facade of strength...when you're a walking plea...expecting a tiny pat on your head as the sick puppy you're."
at this point you were awfully close to him. a knee on the bed, next to his thighs. gun against his forehead. no breaking eye contact. your breathing quickened....by... being this close to him..? no, it couldn't be that- it was anger- yes, that's it.
his eyes landed slowly at your lips...his own, parting a little. your eyes did the same.
your grip on the gun wavered a little, until you caught yourself "No." you said as your left hand moved upwards and grabbed his hair and pulled his head back.
"No." you repeated. trying to sound confident but failing in the act.
suddenly you felt a slight touch on your thigh. it was his hand. you flickered down your eyes at his action, but then you looked up to meet his gaze.
His fucking eyes....god...they were like two pools of chocolate and caramel, begging you to get drown in them.
the space between you felt electric. magnetic. neither of you moving an inch away from each other.
seconds felt like hours in this position.
when you were about to speak, or at least try to say something, anything, he did it first.
"please..." he only said. his voice was almost a whisper, a word only for you to hear. intimate. a plea.
you thought for a moment... how and why did you get in this situation? why wouldn't you move away from him? Why was his warmth so comforting and so dangerous at the same time? what matt would say if he looked at you now? or even Karen... for god's sake, you were in a position that you shouldn't be.
shouldn't be, shouldn't think, shouldn't feel...right.
....or should I?
so in that moment, you felt like yes, you should do it. fuck it. fuck them all. you wanted this, crave it, even. more than his gaze on you, his barely touch. you wanted all of him on you. get drown in him, to get eaten by him.
So you started to lean closer to him, your grip on his hair softened a little, along your grip on the gun, starting to caress him with it.
He closed his eyes, leaning on your touch.
finally words caught your tongue. "...please, what?" you said softly, an edge of command coming through the edges of your voice. He opened his eyes, meeting yours. "Please...." he repeated, now his touch on your thigh more insistent than before. You understood. You moved forward, each one of your thighs on each side of his hips, straddling him. He was limited by the handcuffs, but that didn't stop him trying to touch your thighs or anything he could reach.
Your left hand moved down, touching slowly the side of his neck, his jaw...the scar on his cheek. He didn't flinch, not once, he was utterly in trance by you, deep pools of brown focusing only on you. And you didn't mind.
You locked eyes with him.
Your hand drifted to the corner of his lips, making him let go of a breath that was caught in his throat. You could feel him trying to stay straight in place, but you...you didn't want that.
"don't hold back." you said
and that was the resolve of him. He leaned forward and caught your lips with his in a hungry almost unhinged, dizzy, fuzzy kiss. You hummed in pleasure into his mouth, kissing him back with the same energy he was giving you. You threw away the gun from your right hand, didn't care where it landed, the only thing that mattered was the thrill you both were feeling.
Your hands started to pull him closer to you, your hips started to grind on him, seeking for friction, release, something. That made him let go a deep groan "please" he said in between kisses.
"I know, I know." you said against his lips.
His breathing was labored, so as yours.
you bit your lower lip. your hands went south, getting closer to his waistband. "Let me" you said without breaking eye contact. he did a soft nod.
your hands started to undo his pants, you undid his belt, button and then you unzipped it. You slowly started to pull down his boxer until his hand stopped you, grabbing your wrist. "Wait." he said. you listened
"yes?"
he breathed in and out. "I....I want to make you, feel good..." he said.
you softly smiled. it was a sweet thought. 'making you feel good' because he will be doing that. he was doing it already and he barely touched you.
"You will." you touched his face, before planting a soft kiss on his lips. he hummed content. You pulled back, and got off his lap, to get rid of your pants and shirt. He was starstruck by your body, his eyes roaming all over your legs, chest, waist, and ass. He looked up at your face, and you were already looking down at him. A little shy smile on your lips, as you placed yourself in the position you were before with him. He groaned. He couldn't take it anymore. "I need you-" he started to say but you interrupted "I know, me too..." you said, chest moving up and down, breath ragged with need.
Your hands went to his boxers, you looked at him in question. you needed to know. he nodded eagerly.
As you pulled down his boxers enough to free his cock. he hissed at the sensation of your hands brushing him.
You exhaled, trying to calm down, but it was worthless, you were absolutely wrecked and you both didn't even do anything yet.
Your eyes found his, one of your hands rose to meet his mouth, he opened it willingly. he sucked and licked them, humming in content. You whimpered softly at the sensation. You pulled them out of his mouth and led them to your cunt, starting to circle your clit. Your cunt more wet than before. "Dex..." you moaned low.
"yes?" he managed to say
"I want you now. I'm ready." you said, putting your panties aside.
Dex mouth watered at the sight. he nodded, moving his hips towards yours. You grabbed his cock and led it to your cunt. You started slow, you wanted to feel every inch getting inside you. every. inch.
He whimpered, breathing laboured, trying to steady himself. "ohh...fffuck.."
His cursing made you even more turn on. You wanted to hear more of that. So, you sat all the way down on him, making him let out a deep groan that rumbled into your cunt.
The two of you stay like that for a moment, adjusting to the new sensation.
You started to move your hands on to his shoulders for support. Dex's hands managed to grab your hips, the handcuffs making it difficult, but he didn't care, he needed to touch you or he would die on the spot.
He was drugged by you, the feel of you surrounding him completely, wrapping him in your warmth.
He said your name like a prayer. like if you were a saint, who was illuminating him with your light.
As you were more comfortable, you started to move your hips, up and down. the motion made the two of you whimper, moan, groan, say each other's name like if where no tomorrow ahead.
He started to thrust back, meeting you half way, his cock touching that sweet spot that makes you see stars. Your nails started to claw on his back, making him moaned at the feeling "yeah, just like that-mhhmph".
"fuck-" you cursed. you wanted more, needed more, so you started to ride him more faster, seeking that release the two of you were seeking. He steadied you with his big hands on your hips "son of a-" he moaned. "you feel so good".
you grabbed his hair, and pulled him into a starving kiss. your hips rocking into his in a steady pace, moaning into each other's mouths. Dex started to kiss your neck, an act that made you moan, and hold onto him more tightly. His mouth started to kiss, and bite your collarbones, chest ...and finally breasts. He licked one of your nipples, swirling his tongue all over it to finally sucking it, and make a sound 'pop'. He repeated the motion on your other nipple.
You were in ecstasy, a moaning mess, so as he.
"i'm-" dex managed to say
"me too" you moaned breathlessly
you started to pick up the pace faster than before. Then, you felt it. the orgasm hit you like a blow. strong. shamelessly fucking good. That made Dex climb off the edge. You both let go moans, groans, curses under your breaths.
"fuck...." you said, as you tried to calm down your beating heart. your arms wrapped around his neck.
His face hid in the crook of your neck "hmmm...."
Both of you stayed like that for a long moment, catching your breaths.
Dex soft chuckled. You pulled back to look at his face. he looks amused, a crooked smile on his lips, that made you smile too
"what?" you asked
"nothing" he said in a little shy tone
"uh-huh...sure."
"it's just....I didn't really think that this could happen, y'know?" he said
you nodded, your hands started to touch his arms, feeling every muscle "I know. Me neither."
a beat
dex looked at you "I really liked it."
you smiled. "....me too..." you bit your lower lip, before closing the distance and kissing him again. You pulled back slightly, a satisfied smile on your lips.
"Um ....I think we should clean ourselves." you chuckled, before climbing off him slowly.
"uh, yeah" he chuckled timidly
a few minutes later you came back with a cloth in your hand, and sat next to him on the bed.
"Can I?" you said showing him the cloth
dex nodded "yeah" he said, his tone rough.
you smirked a little and started cleaning him.
When you finished, you grabbed your clothes and put them on. You walked towards the garbage and ditched the cloth, then you got closer to the mattress.
You didn't talk. Just stare at him. He didn't say anything either. A silent understanding passing between you.
He managed to touch your hand, you grabbed it back. fingers intertwined.
You looked at him. Really looked at him. And in that moment, you acknowledged, this was your world.... always has been. vigilantes. patching up people. making things right.
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