"only physically affectionate when high because it makes her walls come down and makes her remember what she and barry used to have."
What do you mean "used to have" are they not in love anymore? Did they used to be? (This is about Barry and Miriam btw)
oh my baby miriam. my favorite child honestly
they’re still in love but they’re not the people they used to be and there’s too much pain and regret between them to ever go back to that innocent, hopeful love they once had
they both mourn it but they still love each other. they just have a lot of issues
New writer here and do you ever get that feeling where you're trying to write a reader but you just have so many thoughts about them and how they interact with characters and before you know it they're barely a reader anymore and they're just an oc
Idk why for me it feels almost wrong of me to feel like this and it makes me not want to post any of my work cause it's always lengthy and too curated to a sort of person and I'm reading this ask and I'm writing too much again 😞
literally all the time😭
honestly most of my !readers are OCs at this point but that’s only because i’ve named them and their traits and storylines have gotten more specific and less broad/vague
the thing is either way, people are gonna tune in if it’s good or “shit” there’s an audience for everything.
i think what’s important at the end of the day is that YOU enjoy what you’re writing
tldr; it’s a thin line but it’s honestly chill either way
i actually think it was really hot for trinity santos to walk in on her first day with that amount of confidence, make nicknames for every loser in there, try and get to do as many cool procedures as she could, catching some asshole stealing drugs, flirt with a 30+ year old surgery resident and still bag her after stabbing her in the foot, and just in general walking around and taking up her rightful space. i think women should do that more
Too many people characterize Dex as this dominant, macho, no one does anything to him person. And while I think that can be true in some cases. I think we should start seeing him as what he is, a pathetic, masochistic, obsessive pushover. I mean matt slamming his face against the table until he knocked out a tooth and saying "thank you" speaks for itself but also stalking Julie and then coming to her in public so she feels safe screams "I am dangerous but I'm absolutely pathetic about you"
He stalks you because he's possessive the way a dog resource guards. You are highly valuable to him and he knows if he doesn't bare his teeth you will be easily stolen from him. He's insecure as fuck and is needy and desperate and entirely pathetic. He barez his teeth, barks, he bites, but kick him and he rolls over on his back as submissive and complacent as a puppy
Content warnings: Benjamin Poindexter x fem!reader, angst, no use of y/n, pain kink, sex as a coping mechanism, refusal of safe words so dubcon(?), toxic, dacryphilia, sub!switch!Dex, choking, dry humping, probably ooc.
The whine that left him was different than the others. Less heady. Much more guttural and dismal.
You run your hand along Dex’s chest. Soothing over the blood beaded red marks you had left there not moments ago. Slightly smearing it in the process.
“Colour Dex.” You cut through his heavy breathing. Your "play fight" having elevated to something much more physical.
His whole body shudders at your touch. Normally he would lean into the sting of your fingers over the deep scratches. Shake at the sensation. This however, was more like a flinch to get away rather than a flinch of anticipation.
“G- green.” He mumbles through bloodied teeth. His lips swollen from more than just the aggressive kisses you both had shared.
“Dex…
“No just- fuck-just hit me again.. Please.” He makes his plea a point by rutting his jean clad hips up against you. Forcefully pushing his zipper to the seam of your underwear. Rocking you towards him. He sounds different than normal too.
Your brow dips, catching yourself to lean over him. Hand by his head. Your knuckles already blooming into a harsh maroon colour from where your fist made contact with his jaw.
Tears streak down the corners of his eyes, accumulating at the hairs on his temples. Large consistent droplets that keep a steady stream. He does cry sometimes during moments like this. But something in your gut is telling you this isn’t like the other moments.
“I think we’re done with this for tonight.” You say gently. Slowly moving off of his lap.
His hands rapidly fly to the sides of your thighs. Tugging you back on him. A distressed sound heaving from his chest.
You wobble at his strength.
“I’m not gonna hit you again, Dex.”
Dex’s grip on your thighs tighten, pressing you harshly down on his crotch. You could feel how hard he was. The teeth of his zipper biting into the sensitive skin between your legs. You hiss, chewing into your lip.
You push at his shoulders, sitting back to alleviate the pressure.
One of his large hands slip from you, roughly grasping around both of your wrists before you could react. Placing your curled fingers around his throat.
“Ben.” you warn, which only spurs him on. Pressing the meat of your palms harder to the strong muscles of his neck until your hands inevitably ring together. Thumbs resting just above his Adam’s apple.
His pulse battered against your twitchy digits. His grip on your wrists tightening as he grinds up into you again, making you shiver. His expression is that of desperation. Eyes hooded and glossed over, unable to focus properly as he stares off. Squeezing your wrists, putting more pressure on his own neck. Making you use him to stay upright. Your body weight anchoring him to the floor.
His grip suddenly fists at the leg of your underwear. Wrenching the material forward, making you buck on top of him. The seams audibly snapping at the rough tug.
Every nerve in your body was on fire. The hot mess of desire and worry mixing thick in your brain. You knew what Ben was like. Knew before you became allies. Knew what he liked. He likes this. But this seemed less about the game of it all and more about something else.
“Sweetheart.” You shift over his hips, eliciting a choked exhale from him as his hazy eyes flick towards you, red and puffy. “You want this, yeah?”
His chest heaves, throat bobbing under your grasp.
You tighten your fingers ever so slightly. Letting him feel the pressure without choking him any more than he was already doing to himself through your hands.
“C’mon Dexy whats wrong?” Again, you rock into him. Each hitch of your core over his eliciting tiny sounds that escape from his lips. More tears roll down his face. Sweat beading on his forehead, cheeks flushed. He looked abysmal.
“Just need this.” He practically mewls. His cock throbs underneath you. The stiff feeling of his zip yet again catching your clit causing goosebumps to shiver over your skin.
Breathily you mumble little curses. Digging your grip that bit tighter, lightly pressing your thumbs just under the soft spot beneath his chin where you know is tender.
“F-uck.” Whimpering, his hands go limp. Unknowingly letting the weight off of himself. Now just resting on your wrists, feeling your hands on him. Legs twitching, face red and damp. He inhales deeply, air rushing freely through his lungs. His head lols to the side, tears running over the bridge of his nose.
This time, as you ease your hands off of him. He lets you. Red marks spread over his throat, purpling slightly. Wordlessly you skim your knuckles over his forehead, pushing the sweaty hair away from his face.
“Ben.” You curl your fingers at his roots. Making him whine. Making him look at you. “What. Colour. Are. You.”
He doesn’t respond. Only rolling his hips in little motions to keep the friction on his cock. Hands slipping in between the both of you. His shaky fingers undoing the button and zipper on his jeans. “Fuck me.” He pleads.
“I wont unless you tell me whats wrong.”
He huffs defeated, but desperate. Eyes still glazed over with want and humiliation.
“Need to not think.” He slips the tips of his fingers into the hem of your underwear. “Need you- need you to make me not think.”
“Is that what you want?” You lay your palm atop his. Running the pads of your fingers over his scabbed knuckles.
He nods, swallowing. Like it was painful to do. His gaze on your navel. Watching your stomach as you breathe heavily.
You shove your hand into his underwear abruptly, his whole body jolting as you grasp him. Running the soft of your thumb over his leaking slit. You slip him from his pants. The cool air hitting his cock as you pump him a few times.
His arms lay flat on the carpet below him. Panting every time you caressed the underside of his head as though you were playing with him. Studying him. Your gaze like hot beams of a magnifying glass on a sunny day. And when you finally, finally pull your panties to the side and slip his head past your folds, he cries out. An almost pained look waving across his sharp features as you sink down on him. The delicious stretch making you feel full as you meet him to the base.
You didn’t let him adjust. Starting up a quick pace. The backs of your thighs dropping on top of his heavily. Slick dripping from you, soaking into his skin.
Dex’s back arches. Little scratchy ah’s escaping from his throat with every rough grind down on his hips. Screwing his eyes shut, a heavy dip of his brow causing a deep crease. You take his throat back into your grip. Your hand clutching tight to the pressure points on either side while the other takes his face. Chin pressed between your thumb and pointer, tipping his head back to look over him. Leaning into his space.
He throbs inside of you. Your walls squeezing around him as you rock yourself harder. Changing the angle until you feel the dull, satisfying nudge of his tip at your cervix. Your nails digging into his cheeks, crescent moon indents forming on the thin skin.
Dex lets out a cry, a true abashed sob. Waterworks starting up again, hands flying to your waist to cling at your skin. Fucking you down onto him as his hips meet you halfway. Familiar heat bubbling low in your stomach.
“That feel good?” You muse, shaking his head, getting him to look you in the eyes. Blinking away his tears to focus on you, a little mewled ‘yes’ slips past his lips.
He was quite possibly the most pathetic you had ever seen him. Sure, the punches, the smacks and scratches turn him to putty under your feet. His need for you to mark him, etch your name into his sternum until it scars between his ribs worn evidently on his sleeve.
You choke him harder. Puffed strained breaths vibrating under your hold. Deep blush over the high points of his face flushing down to his chest as he chokes down his sobs.
But more than that, Ben has the innate need to be made feel whole. That every touch, every overwhelming and painful sensation that he could feel meant something.
His thrusts begin to grow sloppy. Your skin dimpling under his tight hold. You’ll have bruises for sure. But so will he.
You grind against him as he thrusts. Holding his hips up to push as deep as he possibly could until there was a dull ache deep within you. Rocking you desperately, lifting your knees off the carpet.
You let yourself go. Gushing over his tensed thighs. Rolling spasms of your cunt catching Dex in an overwhelming trap before his own release avalanches into devastating hiccups. Head rushing from lack of oxygen.
You release him from your hold. Watching as his chest heaves ragged. Trying to catch his breath through heavy sobs. His arm coming up to cover his eyes with the crook of his elbow.
Your waist was tender. Sore from where he hooked himself to you.
“Ben.”
He wipes his eyes with his forearm. “Yeah, i know.” Letting the limb fall deadweight to your bent knee.
Biting the inside of your cheek, you watch the man underneath you squirm.
“You okay?” Just like before, you sooth your hand over his chest. The scratches now scabbed over and tender.
He sighs into your touch. His thumb brushing across the indents he left on the skin of your waist. “Dunno.” Tears still rolling down his cheeks.
You inhale deeply. Straightening yourself to catch his chin affectionately with your fingers. “I don’t want to do that again.” You whisper, leaning over him to kiss the side of his mouth.
He whines quietly. “I know.”
“I mean it Ben.” You wipe over his temples. Raking your fingers through the tear soaked hair there.
“I can handle it baby.” Voice wobbles at your soft touch.
“I don’t care.” Lifting your leg to the side, you move off of him. Another pathetic little sound leaving him as he slips out of you, the absence of your weight making him unconsciously reach for you. Laying down on your back next to him, you clasp your hand around his.
You want him to enjoy himself. And usually he does. However this was scary. Using you as a means to an end. Something for him to ignore whatever thoughts bombarded his pleasure.
Dex turns his head away from you. Staring up at the high ceilings of his apartment. His throat on fire. Eyes heavy and raw.
“Okay.” He rasps. Grip tightening around your hand possessively. Small, pitiful quirk curling at the side of his sharp mouth at your stern words. He likes how serious you get with him. Worrying about how he feels during sex. How he feels in general.
Like he belongs to you.
I have never written something like this before so i’m a bit out of my depth with this. The content warnings are probably wrong so please let me know if they are so i can update them!
