need her to force my head between her thighs and make me lick at her puffy pussy till my tongue is sore. make me bury my tongue deep in her, pinch my nose shut as she holds me there. my head going all fuzzy from losing air, the feeling adding to the growing dampness between my legs. looking up at her with tears running down my cheeks and that makes her tighten her hold.
her finally letting up as i gasp for air, my face a mess of her juices and my drool. her smacking the side of my face, light but firm. grabbing my face with a hand, smushing my cheeks together to form a little pout as she scolds me for blubbering, drooling, making a mess of her couch. messy girl. im whimpering out my sorries and apologies, voice ragged, begging her to please forgive me and please touch me too, ive been waiting so long..
her wordlessly nudging her leg towards me. my face goes hot with shame at the implication, but she knows how low i can go just to get off. doesnt take much more convincing before im grinding on her heel, watching her rub herself to the frustrated tears building in my eyes from not getting the right angles. how i desperately move my hips, letting out a long moan when i finally feel my clit catch on her heel, sending shockwaves through my body as i try so very hard to maintain that position — needy for release. her “accidentally” moving her leg, making me cry out when i lose the stimulation again.
she’ll let me try again, and again, and again, only to help me stand so she can pull my panties back up. sitting me in her lap and wiping my tears away as more n more keep streaming down my face from almost getting what i wanted. keeping me nestled in her arms with a finger in my mouth till i fall asleep just like that, used and denied <3
ik hes real mean abt those inspections too.. talking abt some “shhh, shh sweet girl, let dad touch you” n b4 you can blink your panties are on the floor n ur face is shoved into ur pillow
EXACTLY
you guys just had a little movie night and it was time for bed, dex holding your hand up the stairs so he can put you to sleep. your are so drowsy tonight for some reason — more snappy at him as he sits down on your bed first and you are standing in front of him rubbing your eyes.
“daddy im tired i dont want to.. cant you do it tomorrow?” you whine, swaying back and forth as he holds your hand. your step dad only shakes his head with a small smile, “you know the drill princess, just let dad touch you for a bit yeah? be good.” dex corrects and the next thing you know you’re in his lap!!
your back to his chest and your panties on the floor beside you, holding in your whimpers as your step dad glosses his fingers around your pussy. spreading your sticky hole open with his middle and index finger and getting them all wet, then gliding the arousal all over your clit. you’re squirming in his grasp and breathing hard, feeling his other hand hold you by the throat gently so you don’t move.
“my pretty little pussy..” you’ll hear him murmur, claiming some morbid ownership over your cunt. you never knew exactly what it was he was checking for but you also knew not to question him. just babbling dumbly and trying to escape but dex makes you stay there, “shh sleepy girl I know, m’almost done.” :(
Plug!Choso who you have a very simple relationship with. He gives you weed, you let him eat you out ‘til either of you pass out.
Plug!Choso who only ever stuffed his face in between your legs while he was high—his tongue a lot lazier than you imagined it’d be against you. Yet somehow, he never fails to make you squirt on it.
Plug!Choso who starts thinking you might be more addictive than the drugs he sells, unable to keep himself away from you at some point.
Plug!Choso who knows it’s dangerous to think that way when you both promised each other there’d be no feelings involved but, he just can’t help himself.
Plug!Choso who’s the most expressive guy you know. If there was ever such a thing as a chalant person living in a nonchalant body—it’d be him.
Plug!Choso who makes the sexiest expressions every time he has sex with you. The first time his plump tip starts sliding in, his jaw always falls open and his eyebrows begin to twist up.
Plug!Choso who fucks you real slow ‘n carefully like he’s afraid he’ll break you one day. You always end up moaning for him to be harder or rougher with you but he only ever does so much.
Plug!Choso who you fucked while he was sober one time and realized why it’s not often he’s rough with you during sex. Turns out the man is obsessed with making you squirt and stuffs you with everything he can while he’s not too high to think straight.
You squirt on his fingers first, then his tongue, then his cock—twice. All in the span of one long night where he decided not to smoke.
Plug!Choso who hates to see you talking to any other dealers out of fear you’ll start going to them instead of him.
Plug!Choso who fucks you like he hates you whenever that jealousy builds up too much, stuffing your face down into your pillows and forcing you to deepen the arch in your back. His cock would stretch you open less sloppy than normal, despite the weed flowing throughout his system.
Him being jealous was the only time he fucked you precisely while being intoxicated. You can still feel the burn of his fingers rubbing your clit to splashing tears while his dick rut up against your dewy sweet spot.
Plug!Choso who acts like the whole thing never happened the next day, telling you he, “Doesn’t get jealous.”
Plug!Choso who you purposefully annoy afterwards by going out of your way to talk to frat!kuna while at some party, giggling harder than necessary and letting your palm run along the man’s bulky arms since you knew you had his eyes on you from afar.
Plug!Choso who drags you up to the second floor of that same frat house later that night, locating frat!kuna’s bedroom just to pin you up against the wall and bully his tongue deep into your pussy as some type of punishment.
Each time you started whining about how you were about to cum, he pulled away and slapped your cunt all meanly. Grunting, “If you wanted to cum, you should’ve let him come touch you instead.”
You were frustrated from being edged so you didn’t think things through when you said, “Maybe I will next time.”
Plug!Choso who didn’t appreciate hearing that one bit, two of his thick fingers diving up into your pussy and watching the way your slick spills all down his hand—decorating his wrist and slowly his forearm in your filth.
You ended up crying real tears due to how long he stretched things out. Even when droplets were falling down onto him, he still didn’t let you cum.
Plug!Choso who slobbered against your cunt, tongue lathering his name around your clit so you’d never fix your mind to flirt with some other guy in front of him like that again.
Plug!Choso who eventually tugged his face and hands away from you just to stand up, letting you slide down onto the floor still lacking the release of a delightful orgasm.
He let you watch as he sleazily unzipped his pants and tugged his fat cock out, giving it only a couple strokes with the same fingers that’d just been inside you. Then he beckoned you closer and you scrambled on your knees just to get to him.
Plug!Choso who wasn’t gentle with you at all, feeding you his dick as if this were the very position you always belonged in: on your knees like some slut while you sucked him real good.
His fingers thread through your hair just enough to get a tight hold onto your skull, quickly using you and your mouth like a proper cocksleeve as he spewed out all sorts of curses.
Even though he was upset with you, he still wasn’t too harsh with his words—managing to tell you how good your throat feels for his cock while simultaneously calling you a slut.
His slut, though.
Plug!Choso who had yet to let you cum but allowed you to touch yourself while he bashed his tip into the back of your throat, soon spilling sticky loads down your warm cavern to let you taste what he wasn’t letting you release.
Your face was a mess of wetness from tears and drool, nothing but soft mewls heard from your wobbly lips by the time he pulled away since he swore to cut off everything he had with you if you came before he said you could.
Plug!Choso who knew that’s all you wanted to begin with—to get bullied ‘n teased to the nth degree like that. He didn’t let you cum until you’d weeped a great sum of apologies and promised never to do what you did again.
But by then, he’d already had you folded up into a mean mating press against frat!kuna’s bed, telling you to cream around his cock and leave a filthy mess for that man to come find later.
Plug!Choso who was never one to be this possessive with anyone until he started dealing to you. He didn’t even think he had all that in him but you looked so pretty crying and begging for him until your voice had gone hoarse, he just couldn’t help himself!
Plug!Choso who’s shyly apologizing for his actions the very next day, assuming he’d been a bit too mean.
Plug!Choso who you laugh at when he mumbles that apology and then reveal that you only entertained Sukuna to make him mad.
Which, as it turns out, worked exactly in your favor!
Plug!Choso who's really good with aftercare no matter what. He could be high out of his mind or stupidly upset with you but either way, he's always making sure you're perfectly alright after the fact.
Plug!Choso who eventually comes out and says he wants more of a relationship with you, one that's not only built on sex 'n drugs. He asks you out properly while he's sober, bringing you your favorite type of flowers that you only mentioned once before, and later dinning you properly.
Plug!Choso who you started dating and now get your free weed from with soft kisses and the occasionally intimate, "I love you."
Plug!Choso who you cherish your time with greatly, even though there's a slightly jealous frat!kuna who's lurking around every corner of your relationship...
visiting fbi dex at work and fucking in the back of the car or supply closet 🧎🏽♀️
riding him within an inch of his life in the back of his car, pulling at the white collar of his shirt to bring him up so you can smash your lips on his and you take what you want, he happily lets you, forcing dex to swallow your moans so they dont come out too loud, he's fully dressed because he has to get back to work at any second and god, you can already tell all his coworkers are immediately gonna know what he was doing, with him all red faced and hair sticking to his forehead, he cant hide anything for shit and this is no exception, it all makes you want to ruin him all the more worse, kissing and biting at his lips until they're swollen, sucking bruises into his neck until he protests weakly "god stop, i- i need to show my face again in a second- please baby-"
♱ content warning smut !! mdni fem!reader dubious-ish consent very dom!sam yumyum established relationship unprotected sex small plot lowercase intended set somewhere between s1 - s5
♱ notation author was horny asf and wrote this at 2 am after dissapearing for 3 months so pls be nice lol. english isn't my first language and idc if there are any mistakes.
it was already way past midnight when the black chevy passed your city's entrance sign.
sam and dean had finished up with the endless hunt as the younger brother had called it and hit the road couple of hours ago. it wasn't supposed to take this long, "3 days max, i suppose" he told you on the phone, but it's been almost three weeks and sam is slowly going insane.
his bed has been cold. lonely. he has instinctively reached out for you in his sleep too many times. but now he's finally coming home to you and sam feels like he can properly breathe for the first time in forever.
tonight was one of the rare instances where sam was driving the whole way instead of the older brother. dean was out cold, snoring like a fucking bear, however sam was wide awake.
now if this was any other night, both of them would stay over at your place. you have a spare bedroom, where dean has slept dozens of times before.
but no. sam had left his brother at the nearest motel near your place, because tonight was one of those nights when sam felt a bit selfish. he needed you only to himself. alone.
the second dean closed the passenger side door after getting out of the car, sam hit the gas pedal like he was running from death.
your place wasn't too far. just 10 minutes away.
okay, that was too far for him now.
he lowers the window, letting the breeze hit his face in hopes of some relief for his overheating body, gripping his aching fingers on the steering wheel, dying to touch you.
he remembers your texts from last night again. he has been thinking about them since the second you sent them.
"i've never missed u this much before."
"fuck i'd let u do anything if u were here rn."
"i'm going crazy baby i miss ur dick so much."
sam is practically foaming at the mouth when he enters your driveway, tires screeching on the asphalt so loud he almost wakes up the whole neighborhood.
he gets out of the car quickly, reaching for his pocket as he's approaching the front door. he takes out the spare key you gave to him couple of months ago after his frequent night visits.
"you want me to be your night boy?" the memory hits him.
"night, morning, evening, whatever you want to call it" you had said with a fucked-out smile on your face.
sam closes the entrance door behind him, dropping his duffle bag on the floor and quickly taking off his shoes.
he almost sprints up the stairs, but when he reaches your bedroom door, his movements slow. he knows you're most definitely sleeping, he wouldn't ruin this moment by waking you.
so he quietly opens the door.
and there you are. tangled under the white sheets, the moonlight creeping in from the window illuminating your silhouette. you're facing the wall, but sam can immediately recognize his shirt covering you. he knows you always wear his clothes when sam is gone, it always smells like him too.
"it helps me sleep better" you told him once and sam carried that sentence in his heart ever since.
he approaches your bed with a few quiet steps, just enough to reveal your sleeping face and he curses under his breath. it takes everything in him to hold his composure, but he loves seeing you like this, all soft and relaxed and so beautiful.
his dick is literally throbbing and aching in his pants when he finally sits down on the bed behind you. he takes a second to take the sight in, before his shaky hand ghosts the silver of the skin that's not fully covered by the shirt. he trails his fingers down the soft sheet covering your hips and legs, slow and careful.
god, he can feel his restraint breaking each passing second.
he softly removes the linen from your figure, exposing your skin to the night breeze. but sam's hand freezes when he sees you dressed in only mini cotton shorts thats not doing a good job at covering your ass... at all.
if sam winchester had any kind of restraint or moral left, it's all gone by now.
the linen drops from his hand somewhere above your knees, then his hand rests on your hip. he can't help but dig his fingertips in your flesh. gosh he feels like a teenager.
only then do you stir, confused and a little alarmed by the feeling. you're supposed to be alone.
"it's me, baby" sam instantly reassures as he noticed your pretty eyes fluttering.
"sam?" you say, voice almost inaudible, "when did you get back?" you try turning on your back.
but sam immediately stops you, his free hand gripping your shoulder, pinning you on the bed.
"shh... don't move" he whispers, "stay just like this". his voice is calm, steady, however his fingers are betraying him, where they tremble on your hip.
"what are you doing?" you say in a hushed tone, but sam doesn't answer. not yet. his mind is too foggy and his hands are still busy trailing your soft skin.
"sam?"
"missed you" he finally mumbles like it's eating him alive, like it's the only thing he's feeling. well, except for lust.
his fingertips dig in your ass again, this time hard enough to let a small moan escape your parted lips and sam almost looses his mind. you can hear him inhale through gritted teeth, a hushed "fuck" leaving his breath.
"missed you too." you whisper.
"fuck i'd let u do anything if u were here rn."
would you?
"get on your stomach." he urges. his voice is quiet, almost casual, but you can feel the command in it.
"what-"
"on your stomach." he doesn't even let you finish your sentence.
you've never seen him act like this before. sure sam likes rough sex as much as he likes it soft and slow. he loves control, domination, loves having you under his mercy. but this time, it feels unusual. just his presence alone feels different. it's almost like possession.
and, jesus, it makes you so nervous but it sends heat right to your core.
you did as he said. on your stomach, your elbows on the bed. and somewhere along the rustling of the sheets, you heard his shirt and jeans hit the bedroom floor.
you can feel him move behind you, then his knees digging in the sheets near your thighs, trapping you under him. his movements are fast and your half-asleep mind can barely keep up with it.
his breaths are deep, shaky and god it makes your own breathing tremble.
his hands find your waist under the shirt and you shiver at his touch. it feels so possessive, like he's telling you "you're only mine" without ever needing to say it.
and you are. you are only his. it's like your body has only ever known sam, the way it reacts to his touch, his words. he can have you begging for him just under a minute.
"fuck, you're so beautiful like this." he says, as he trails his fingers on the soft skin of your waist, back, hips, everywhere he wants to touch and you let him.
sam closes the gap between your bodies, his chest resting on your clothed back and you can feel his erection perfectly on your ass. he's so hard, long and thick, you bet he's already leaking too. god, your mouth fills with saliva just from imagining it alone.
he mouths at the back of your neck, all teeth and tongue, leaving traces of saliva near your shoulder. you can feel his hot breaths near your ear and the whispered curses when his lips reached your neck, sucking on that sweet spot he knows makes you lose your mind
and you're so responsive to him, soft moans leaving your pretty lips, your fingers shaking, gripping the sheets. your back arches instinctively, his clothed dick fitting perfectly between your cheeks.
and suddenly, he stills. you've never felt him still this fast. his breaths grew more erratic, fast and hot. your pulse quickly elevated, your own movements freezing.
"sam?-" you softly called out but it was cut off by your own gasp. in a fast motion sam had grabbed both of your arms and pinned them to your lower back.
"you don't move a finger until i tell you to" he urges instantly, voice sharp, demanding, "don't make me order you." his tone gets even lower, laced with... threat?
whatever it was, it was for sure ruining your cotton shorts with arousal.
his other hand finds the back of your head, grabbing your hair in a tight, firm grip and raising your head from the pillows.
"do you understand?" he says as his lips reaches your ear, his hot breaths sending a shiver down your spine.
you can barely breathe, barely speak, your mind short-circuiting from just his voice alone. a small nod and a moaned out "yes" is all you can manage.
"good" he breathes out and you don't even have to look at his face to know he has that devilish smirk that drives you insane. his hand lets go of your hair, your face falling back in the pillows, moving from the back of your neck to your ass. there's a sharp inhale behind you before his fingers dig in your flesh once again.
"open your legs f'me" he says and just his tone alone makes you whimper.
you do ask he asks. spread your legs wider. and sam doesn't even waste a second to trail his hand between them. his fingers find your clothed core, that wet spot formed on your cotton shorts. you shiver at the contact, even with the fabric separating you, it makes sparks run through your body.
you turn your head to the side, your hair still covering your face. now your whimpers were not muffled by the pillow and sam is going to lose his mind.
"sam- please" your breathing is shaky, "i need you." you confessed.
yeah sam has definitely lost it.
his fingers quickly remove themselves from your clothed cunt, only to hook themselves in the waistband of the shorts, quickly discarding it on the floor. along with his boxers.
his hands are trembling when he reaches for his dick, aligning himself between your folds. "you missed me?" he whispers, his voice coming out shakier than he intended.
"i did."
"yeah? how much?" he says as he pushes himself fully inside you.
you almost scream out in surprise. he has always given you at least a second to prepare. but not tonight, jesus, he needed you so much.
"tell me how much you missed me." he whispers in your ear, his hand moving the hair out from your face, to get a good look on your expression. your pinched brows, your mouth shaped in a little o expression.
he starts moving. fast. deep. controlled.
"a lot, sam," you manage to cry out "every single night, i've thought about you."
"be more specific." he commands.
specific like how you spent almost every single night touching yourself to him. your fingers deep inside you, wishing they were his, because you can never go as deep as he can.
how you fantasized about his hips slamming inside you under the sheets, making you legs shake, like he always manages to do, several times in a row.
"i've touched myself thinking about you sam. so many times." you finally confess. and you hear him moan behind you.
"yeah? how did that work out for you?" he knows. he fucking knows. that you can never please yourself in a way sam does. it's like he knows your own body better than you do. what makes you moan, shiver, come.
"it didn't. i couldn't-" you choke on your words. god, he's so impossibly deep inside you, it makes your brain go dumb.
his hand finds your hair again, grabbing it in a tight grip, raising your face up. "you couldn't what, baby?" his breath is hot on your skin, his tone is soft, but his movements are far from that.
"i couldn't finish sam-" you finally confess. "i never can. without you."
a deep, guttural sound leaves his lips at that. his other hand moves to your shoulder, keeping you pinned to the mattress, your hair not leaving his tight, painful grip.
his speed increases, and so do your moans. your hands fly to desperately claw at the sheets, pillows, anything, as his dick is repeatedly hitting that spongey spot inside you.
"you wanted me like this, baby?" he hisses "you missed me fuckin' you like this, huh?"
the bed is starting to creak beneath you and you feel yourself tightening around him, your gummy walls almost swallowing his dick. a moaned out "yeah" is all you can manage.
"so take it- fuckin' take it."
your orgasm hits you instantly. your hands still gripping the sheets, legs shaky, eyes closed shut. you're tightening around him and, god, sam can't hold back any longer.
two more thrusts and he spills inside you. hot, deep, loud with his moans.
sam's grip eases up instantly, his heavy body collapsing on top of you.
he's breathing so hard and you can barely manage to take a breath yourself. you're so close to passing out.
after giving both of you a second to recover, he slowly pulls out. his hands find your back again. this time much more gentle. soft.
you feel his lips on your neck, planting loving kisses along your jawline.
sam moves to lay next to you, taking a second to admire your half asleep, fucked-out face. still, you look like the most beautiful girl he's ever seen.
his fingers reach for your face, tucking the stray hairs behind your ear. your flutter your eyes open to take a look at him. he looks so beautiful. rosy cheeks, puppy eyes, a small smile at the corner of his lips. like he didn't just fuck your brains out 2 minutes ago.
"you still with me?" he whispers, as his thumb caresses your cheek.
you simply just nod. talking, moving your limbs feels like too much work.
"worth the wait?" he asks with a small chuckle and you would hit him on his chest if you had the energy. which you don't. so you just smile and mumble out a "mhm."
it's enough for him anyway.
more notes yea i just realized that the smut part didn't really live up to my expectations but whatever maybe i was too horny or tired to function
dex watching you sleep and muttering "i'm sorry" , moving the hair out of your face and tucking the blanket up to your chin . 😂 it hurts😂😂 so bad
FINITE — BENJAMIN POINDEXTER.
SUMMARY if you love something, you let it go.
NOTES ok i got carried away i’m in my bag today. also i love your work this feels like a celebrity interaction????
WARNINGS angst, brief smut, kinda creepy!dex, sad ending
Dex knew it was finite. His fixer-upper apartment with the far-too-energetic neighbour opposite him, who had bullied her way into his life. Despite him trying— and failing, at keeping you at arms length. It grew impossible to do when you would flash a toothy grin and make him feel like he was doing more than just existing.
"Bought you a coffee, early bird." You would exclaim as he opened his door, at nearly seven in the morning. The both of you early risers, having "caught each other" for the past few mornings. Dex would never admit he stood at his door, waiting to hear the groan of your door hinges.
"You have got to read this!" You would exclaim, shoving a book into his chest as he opened his door at an ungodly hour of the night. "I just finished it. Wait, shit— did I wake you?!"
"No, can't sleep." He mumbled. A half-truth.
"Me neither. I blame that book, too good." Even with tired eyes, your smile held every ounce of your remaining energy. It was refreshing. It flushed his chest with a breath he couldn't seem to catch, even when he tried his hardest. It came easiest when you appeared.
And when he shoved the book back at you two days later, a bewildered look across your face, he felt that same rush of life.
"You already finished it? It's like 900 pages." You gasped, looking down at the book as if it might have shrunk in your absence. Dex only chuckled back at you.
"Couldn't put it down." He admitted. "Clara reminds me a lot of you, actually."
It was comparable to a love confession, for he was speaking in your language. You breathed, swaying lightly as you felt the familiar pang of tightness in your stomach. Dex had grown in the near two years of knowing him, from the quiet neighbour, to a good friend, to someone you had reached for subconsciously.
Perhaps it had been in that moment the love had hummed at a higher, more noticeable, frequency. When Dex had spent enough time with your mind and soul, to see you in a book character. It sounded childlike and silly, but your chest ached in remembrance of that moment. So small, of little words, and yet it had been engraved into the marrow of your ribcage.
Sleeping with you was a life altering moment for him, a man of such little intimate experience. Given free rein over your body, to do as he wished. He would paw at your breasts, kissing every exposed part of your body as he undressed you. You would giggle against each other's lips, he would whimper into your shoulder as he thrusted into you. His mouth dried at the sudden surge of desire for you, a fragment of something so unattainable had become so... available.
He learnt you, learnt what made you moan the loudest, or cry the hardest. And use it against you. He would do as you asked, taking you whenever a free moment presented itself. He would fuck you everywhere, a newly learnt skill to crawl inside your skin, to feel that flush of life within his chest again.
Dating Dex had not been easy, but it had not pushed you away as he feared. He would spiral, latch onto you and fear for your safety when you would leave him at night. You would fight, he would yell, you would yell back at him. And you would spend the night in your apartment, with him sat on the outside of your door. Head in his hands, sulking, until you opened the door and cradled him from behind.
The worst it had ever been was a Friday night, after a long week of late finishes at work. You had been invited on a girls night, to drink and dance until the bars closed. Dex had ached for you all week, for more than just a minute of conversation before you passed out. And to him, you were choosing your friends over him. He watched you with tensed limbs and white knuckles, applying your makeup with shaking hands.
"Can't you just stay in tonight?" He pleaded, following after you as you searched for your phone. Which had been nestled into his pocket for hours.
"I'm meeting my girls tonight, Dex. It's just one night." You reasoned, frowning as you scoured your purse. "Have you seen my phone?"
Dex shook his head, waiting for you to return to the room before he slipped your phone into your purse. You wouldn't check the same place twice, that's how well he knew you. He would spend hours helping you find it, that's how much he cared for you. He wished you would see yourself how he did. A higher being. He finally understood Matt's unshakable faith in his God, when his own stood before him fiddling with her heels.
Then it had begun. The shouting, the throwing of the closest objects, the begging you to stay. He hadn't lost it this badly before, you could only stand with such wide eyes and watch as he unfolded before you. But you didn't move. You didn't grab your purse and run off into the night, you didn't block his number and put your apartment up for sale. No, you slipped out of your heels and sat beside him. Cradling his head against your shoulder.
You didn't run from him, you didn't fear him. The words coiled around his heart as he laid beside you the next morning, the two of you had fallen asleep on the living room floor. You curled your arm up as a makeshift pillow, lips pouted as you were still taken by sleep. Dex watched your chest expand before it hollowed out, soft breaths he could feel against his cheeks. The dress you put on last night had ridden up to your hips, your panties on show. His fingers hooked into them, feeling the flesh of your ass as you laid beside him.
Dex grovelled for days after that, doing just about anything for you. He didn't even see you walking as necessary, when his arms could carry you. He would spoon-feed you your meals if you let him. And even when he would suit up after you had fallen asleep, a ghostly kiss on your head, he would think about you as he killed AVTF enforcers. He would think of your smile, your breath hitting his cheeks, the flush of life he felt in his chest when he looked at you.
He planned to make a normal life with you, buy you a ring and take you to the courthouse to marry you. To fill you with his kids and have that picket-fence dream. Because it felt like the natural trajectory of true love, from what he had seen and read about. If it was what you wanted, you'd get it.
But it was finite. The poison bit at him every so often, and he would muffle it by asking you to tell him you loved him. Fisk had been closing in on him, he knew it. He was growing out of options, and he wouldn't let you become another Julie. He couldn't let that happen, his life would end as swiftly as yours would.
And so Dex had committed a selfless act. He offered to stay at yours. He cooked you dinner. He watched your favourite movie. He fucked you once more, filling your mind with the love he had been growing between his ribcage. He laughed with you in the darkness, your sweaty bodies clinging to each other as you came down from your highs. And he put you to bed. The blanket pulled up to your chin, his hands brushing gently over your hair as you snored softly.
"I'm sorry." He whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed as he watched you sleep. He had been sat for well over an hour, memorising your face, feeling the breath on his cheeks, savouring the flush of life in his chest.
"I've got to go," he spoke to you, as if you were conscious and respondent, "I know, baby, I know."
He knew you'd kick, scream, and fight for him to stay, because he knew you so well. So he left whilst you slept, because he cared so greatly for you. His apartment key left on your bedside table, for you to mourn him as you sifted through his things. His apartment, just as he left it. Ingredients still in the pantry, clothes still in the closet, his things untouched for you to cry into and hold onto.
The flush of life would never be felt again, not without you. But this kept you safe, this was his good deed. The most selfless act, and yet the most selfish one. He loved you, his love consumed him to a concerning end, but your safety was paramount. He would relinquish that flush of life if it meant you were still breathing. And you would always be there to look at, through the opened blinds of your apartment.
Summary: Dex becomes obsessed with one of the waitresses at his local diner. (3.5k)
Tags/warnings: smut (mdni), dry humping, oral (f!receiving), face riding, cumming untouched, pathetic dex, mentions of violence, mentions of murder, stalking, obsessive/possessive behavior, reader is morally grey and kind of a freak (affectionately)
A/N: First time writing for Dex!!! Heavily inspired by the song "She" by Tyler, The Creator and Frank Ocean. English is not my first language and this was not proofread. Enjoy!
masterlist
A routine, that's all you craved for when you skipped town a couple of months ago. That's what you try to remind yourself as another day, identical to the previous, begins.
You wake up tangled in your cheep sheets, glistening with sweat as the first rays of sunshine filter through your open window.
You paddle to the small kitchen of your new home, the floorboards creaking under your bare feet, and make yourself a cup of coffee. Then, you start to get ready for another shift at the diner.
It's not your dream job — far from it, actually — but the pay is decent, and if you manage to flash a sweet smile convincingly enough to the right clients, the tips can be pretty consistent.
After a relatively long drive from the secluded ranch you managed to buy from a man who didn't ask many questions when you asked to pay upfront with cash, you park your beat-up sedan in front of the diner.
As you walk in you flash a smile to the few regulars you recognize, and you great your coworker behind the counter — a young girl too sweet for her own good.
"Morning!" she replies with a smile of her own, despite the fact that's way to early for someone to look this joyous.
After exchanging a few niceties, you tie your apron and officially begin your shift. It's the same routine as usual: go up to tables, take orders, and refill cups with coffee that you know for sure tastes like shit.
But then, just like clockwork, at exactly the same time as every day you work the morning shift, your favorite costumer walks in.
He's older and unfairly attractive, with his broad shoulders and graying blond hair. Like usual, he sits at a booth far from the windows and he picks up the menu, carefully studying it, despite always ordering the same thing.
"Good morning, Tony! What can I get you today?"
You take out your notepad from the pocket of your apron, and let the pen hover over the blank page, waiting for his answer.
"I'll have a banana milkshake," he replies, looking up at you with a controlled smile, making a shiver run down your spine.
There's nothing unusual about him. He's polite, always thanks you when you get him his order, and tips way too much considering he always gets the same banana milkshake.
But there's something in the way you feel his eyes following you whenever he's in the diner that makes you feel naked — like he knows what you're so desperately trying to hide.
Still, you keep on the facade you use whenever you're interacting with other people, especially costumers, and leave to make his banana milkshake.
His gaze burns on the back of your head, and your hands tremble slightly as you pour the mil in the blender. You try to sneak a glance in his general direction, but when your eyes land in his figure, he's already looking somewhere else.
After, the routine resumes as usual. He drinks his milkshake, you give him his check, and he leaves a generous tip before walking out of the diner.
In the past, you tried imagining what his life outside might look like. Where does he work? Does he live nearby? Does he have someone waiting for him at home?
Questions like this usually leave you feeling uneasy and unsatisfied when you realize that you'll probably never know the answer.
Later that night, desperately trying to push further away any thought about Tony, you decide to call Chris over.
He's a nice guy. Definitely not the love of your life, but a pleasant enough distraction from your previous life.
You met him a few weeks ago at the diner, and when he shyly asked for your number — after pushing the initial instinct to give him the wrong one — you left it written it on his check.
After that first encounter, he brought you on many dates, but still, you never got past first base, and he, like a gentleman, never pushed further.
Tonight, though, things are going to change.
At 8 pm sharp, you hear the doorbell ring, and when you open your door, you find him still in uniform, holding a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.
"Sorry, I just got off work. I would have changed, but I didn't want to be late, and-" you press your lips against his, muffling the rest of his apology.
Truth be told, at first the fact that he's a cop made you nervous. You worried he would look into your past and find out what made you run away. Instead, he seemingly believed every word that came out of your mouth when you told him your made-up background story, and it made you more inclined to keep seeing him. At least, until he realizes that everything you told him, even your name, is a lie.
"Don't worry about it," you mumble against his lips. "I'm pretty sure I've got some clothes that could fit you. Now, come in."
You take his free hand in yours and drag him past the threshold, closing the door behind him.
Then, after putting the bouquet in a vase, you walk towards your bedroom, looking at him over your shoulder, silently inviting him to follow you. Like a siren luring in an unfortunate mariner.
He seems to take the bait, and gladly follows you. Men are so predictable.
"Here, let me see if I can find some sweats," you say, looking around in your closet.
In the meantime, Chris stands awkwardly near the door, looking so out of place in your bedroom.
As you rummage through the few clothes that you brought with you, he takes off his holster and places it on your nightstand, making it land on the wooden surface with a loud thud.
The cold night air enters the room through your open window, moving the blinds in an almost hypnotic way, catching Chris' attention.
Then, he freezes.
You turn around in that exact moment, holding a pair of oversized sweats in your hands, and furrow your brown when you see him looking attentively at a distant point outside your window.
"What is it?"
"I think I saw something."
You let out a giggle, taking a step closer to his unmoving body.
"I live near the woods. It was probably just an animal."
You can see it in his eyes that he's not convinced, so you lay the sweats on your bed and place your hands on his chest.
"Come on. Let's get you out of this uniform, officer," you whisper near his ear, before placing a languid kiss on his jaw.
It turns out to be a good enough distraction. His gaze shifts in your direction, and his hands immediately find your hips, pulling you closer to his body.
You push him on the bed, and then straddle him, before moving your hands on his shoulder and leaving a trail of kisses from his jaw down to his neck.
His back is pressed near the window, making it possible for you to see some movement near some trees outside your house.
Before you can think about your next move, a knife slices the air, landing on the opposite wall. You let out a scream, as Chris moves your body and lunges towards the gun on your nightstand. He then fires two shoots in the direction general direction of the attacker. But it's too late. He's gone.
Your heart is beating so fast in your chest that you're pretty sure Chris can hear it as well. He has something more urgent to think about though.
Blood is running down his left arm, soaking his uniform. The wound is pretty close to the spot where your hands was just a few moments ago, and yet, you're unharmed.
Did the attacker miss, or were you never the target?
"Shit," Chris says, as he tries to apply some pressure on the cut.
"Wait, let me help you."
You raise from the bed and run to your bathroom, where you keep your first aid kit. Once you're back in the bedroom, you help him take off his uniform, and as you begin to disinfect the wound, Chris breaks the silence.
"Who the fuck was that? He had a fucking- A fucking mask, and he-" his tone is understandably panicked, and his mind was clearly running a hundred miles an hour.
"Was that one of your exes?"
The question sounds so absurd you almost laugh, but decide that now is probably not the right moment.
"If that's your ex you should probably own a pistol, you know that?"
You blame his rambling to the adrenaline that's probably running through his veins right now, and keep cleaning him up.
It doesn't take you long to stop the bleeding. The cut is actually not that deep, but it doesn't seem to ease his mind. On the contrary.
As soon as you finish securing the sterile gauze over the wound, he grabs his things and almost runs to the door, mumbling something about calling you tomorrow.
He does offer you to spend the night at his apartment, but when you decline he doesn't try too hard to change your mind, instead getting in his car and driving away as if someone were chasing him.
When you get back in your room, for some reason unknown to you, you don't feel scared or threatened.
Your eyes land on the knife, still plugged in the drywall. You walk closer and pull it out, the weight feeling oddly comforting in your hands.
There's some of Chris' blood on it, so you while it on your sleep shorts, before tucking it in your underwear drawer.
And in that moment you think: it was never meant for you. It was meant for him only.
The next morning, when you check your phone, you don't find any missed calls from Chris. You think that what happened last night must have scared him away for good, and, weirdly enough, it gives you a strange sense of relief.
Throughout the rest of the day you keep occasionally checking your phone, mostly because it feels like the right think to do, not because you're actually concerned.
You should be worried. Maybe you should try to reach out. Go to his apartment, even. But you never do.
Instead, you go back to your house and slip in the shower, trying to wash away the smell of fried bacon and burned coffee that always lingers on you after you've left the diner.
Once you're done, you realize you've forgotten your towel, leaving you no option but to walk completely naked to your bedroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the floorboards.
The blinds in your bedroom are open — as they usually are — but now, for the first time since you moved in this house, you feel a pair of eyes on you.
A shiver runs down your spine, but you do nothing to cover yourself or close the curtains, because there's something familiar about this feeling.
You brush it off, instead applying lotion over your damp body before finally putting on your clean pj's and going to bed.
Next time you're at the diner, something strange happens.
Tony walks in at the same time as usual, he sits at his usual booth, and he orders the same banana milkshake.
Nothing is out of the ordinary. Except this time the way his gaze follows you feels warmer than usual, and just as you're about to pour the drink inside the glass, the realization suddenly dawns on you.
Tony's the one who has been looking at you through your window. And he's probably the one who threw that knife at Chris.
You remain frozen on your spot until another waitress squeezes past you, reminding you that you're still in a public place. And he's in the same room as you.
You swallow hard enough to make noise, before pouring some whipped cream over the milkshake, grabbing a straw and walking up to Tony's table.
"Here you go," you said placing the glass down on the table, praying he didn't notice the way your voice wavered.
"Thank you, ma'am," he replied, reaching for his milkshake and accidentally brushing your fingers with his.
You immediately move your hand as if you got burned, and without saying anything else you walk away, busying yourself with other costumers.
His gaze, though, weights heavier than it ever has today, and you can't breath properly until he leaves.
The drive home after your shift is silent — you don't even turn on the radio — but that's fine, because your thoughts make enough noise on their own.
The road that usually seems never ending, today feels uncharacteristically short. Even after turning off the engine, you remain seated inside your car.
Your skin is prickling with a feeling similar to anxiety, but not quite.
Excitement, that's what it it.
Despite the rational part of your brain telling you that you should feel scared, that you might be in danger, and that Chris' radio silence might have been caused by something quiet dark, you can't help but hope Tony will be outside your window, watching you.
So you walk inside your home.
Everything's silent. The only sound that can be heard is the low buzz of your fridge. Despite that, you have a feeling you're not alone.
"Tony? Is that you?" and after a moment. "Is that even your real name?"
Then, from a dark corner, a broad figure emerges. Despite the tactical gear and the mask covering everything beside his eyes, you know immediately that the figure that has been inhabiting the shadows near you for longer than you might expect is none other than your favorite costumer.
"Hi, Tony," you great him, your voice just above a whisper. "Or you wanna tell me your real name?"
For a moment you're met with silence, so long that you begin to wonder whether you got it all wrong and there's an actual stranger in your house. Your heartbeat begins to raise, until he speak.
"Benjamin."
"Hi, Benjamin."
You stand there, staring at each other, until you take a step forward in his direction.
"So it was you, uh? How long have you been watching me?" you ask, but there's no real malice, or anger in your voice. Just plain curiosity.
"Ever since I first met you."
It's weird, you would have expected him to be unwavering, sure of himself. Terrifying, even.
Instead, he sounds almost ashamed, making it difficult for you to believe that he's the same man that threw a knife at your date the other night.
You take another step forward, never moving your gaze from his masked face.
"Are you going to show me you pretty face or not?"
He lets out a sharp exhale, sounding like he just got punched. Experiencing first hand the power your words have over him makes you feel almost high.
When he doesn't make a move to take off his mask, you raise your hands to his neck and do it yourself.
The moonlight shines over his messy locks, and the scar on his cheek catches the light just right, making you want to lick it.
Instead, you let the mask drop on the floor, and begin lightly scratching his chest over his suit, your touch featherlight, almost imperceptible.
"So, you watched me for weeks. What was I doing?"
The way his expression shifts and the tips of his ears redden slightly make your lips curl into a smug smile.
You can see his gloves hands clenching at his sides, almost like he's making an active effort not to reach out. Like he's waiting for your permission.
"You were reading, mostly. Sometimes you would watch a movie, if you were not too tired. Most of the times you were too exhausted to do anything. Other times-" and he stops, his face burning.
You tilt your head, confused by what he might be referring to, until you realize.
"What? What was I doing?"
Silence.
"Touching yourself."
Your grin widens, and your hands shift from his chest to his hair.
"Hm, and how did that make you feel, uh? Did it turn you on? Did you wish you could replace my fingers with yours?"
As you ask him these filthy questions, you tug his hair. Hard.
In response, he lets out a low moan, and his hands fly to your hips, mostly trying to ground himself.
"P-Please..."
The word comes out almost uncertain from his mouth, making your lips curl in amusement.
How the tables have turned. How did he go from being your stalker to begging you to let him touch you?
"Please, what?"
"Let me make you feel good."
His voice is strained, almost as if he were in physical pain.
"You really think you can do that?" you ask mockingly.
He nods, looking so eager to please.
You don't offer him a response. Instead you start walking to your bedroom — the same bedroom he has been spying for weeks — and you don't have to look back to know he's following you.
The mattress sinks under your weight as your sit on it. Benjamin doesn't hesitate before falling on his knees, right in front of you.
He starts soft, gently kissing your knuckles. Then the starts traveling higher, his lips caressing the soft skin of your arms, making your eyes flutter closed.
He then places his hands on either side of your body, steadying himself as he kisses your neck. He keeps getting closer to his final destination, grazing your jaw, your cheeks, and finally your lips.
At first the kiss is soft and tender, until you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. This seems to be enough of an invitation for him.
The kiss turns hungry, almost desperate. You can feel the weight of his body over your as he lays you down on the bed. But you don't stay in this position for long.
Taking him by surprise, you flip him over — but you have the suspicion that he's right where he wants to be, underneath you.
His hands begin exploring your body, and your own move back to his hair, burying your fingers in his graying locks.
Underneath the layers of his tactical gear, you can feel him getting progressively harder. All it takes is you grinding your hips over his bulge to get another moan out of him.
You keep moving, chasing the friction with his clothed cock, trying to ease the heath between your legs.
Surprisingly, he's the first one to break the kiss.
"Please, can I taste you?"
He sounds so desperate you can feel your panties getting even more wet than before.
In response, you take off your pants and your underwear in one go, but when you move to lay on the bed, he stops you. Instead he moves your hips higher up, near his face.
Without a warning, he pushes you down on his face. Your hands immediately travel back to his hair, tugging them as you let out a high pitched moan.
At first, he drags his tongue from you needy hole to your clit, before laying a kiss on the bundle of nerves.
His movements are unsure at first, like he's trying to memorize the shape of you. Then, when you start grinding on his face, he seems to gain more confidence, and begins to eat you out like a man starved.
Even though you're completely lost in your pleasure, you can feel him moaning and whispering praises into your cunt.
Things like "you taste so good," and, "you're so perfect."
But the closer you get to your release, the darker his words get.
"Ain't no man allowed in your bedroom except for me," or, "he couldn't have made you feel this good," or simply, "you're mine."
The possessiveness in his voice is enough to make you reach your orgasm, holding onto him like an anchor.
The sound of your release paired with the way to keep pulling his hair — hard enough to sting — is enough make him cum untouched in his pants.
After catching your breath, you move from Benjamin's face and roll over, laying by his side.
He moves as well, resting his head in your lap and wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you so tight that you think he might be afraid that you're going to disappear any moment.
A moment of silence passes between the two of you.
"Benjamin?"
"Mhm?"
"What happened to Chris?"
"I killed him."
A/N: This was the fic! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, even if it's criticism (as long as it's constructive). I love talking with you angels, so my dms and inbox are always open!
oooh dont mind silly me just rolling a joint and pondering the thought of dex waking up from a wet dream and not wanting to wake his north star up so he tries jerking off, which leads to no where but more frustrated and leaking pre cum like crazy. then he tries humping the bed which always seems to do the trick whenever he’s on his stomach sucking your clit like he’s attempting to unclog a pen and that only succeeded in dirtying the sheets :(
nearly dropped my joint at the sudden thought of dex slipping his hard wet cock between your thighs, biting on his fingers to keep his noises from waking you. but you’ve been awake since before him when his hips first started shaking the bed while grinding into your ass
maaaaayyyybbbeee i’ll write this later but if someone else wants it👀………
Matt fucking you because he's jealous that you've been fucking dex.
He starts another argument with you about being with dex, how he's unsafe, and unstable. But as the argument progresses, it becomes more and more apparent that Matt is just pissed dex has gotten to fuck you first (or maybe you guys gave a past idk).
Anyways, it turns into steamy angry sex, with Matt trying to prove he can fuck you better that dex.
But part way through, Matt falters in his thrusts, head tilting to the side before he starts to laugh and resume his pave. "He's watching you know? I can hear him rubbing his dick from across the street." And it just turns you on more.
And then, Matt picks you up and brings you to the window. "Might as well give him the full show, yeah?"
thinking about virgin!dex who always treated sex like a basic bodily function. he jerks off like he eats, drinks or takes a piss. it’s solitary, mechanical. it’s just a need that he has to take care of.
virgin!dex who watches porn but who always comes back to one of the first videos he discovered—some amateur stuff, badly filmed, badly acted.
“FreeUseFantasy.Home.Invasion.480p.mp4” by h0rnyl0vers141.
he likes that the guy is fully clothed; ski mask, green army t-shirt, black tact pants. the girl knows how to moan, how to cry. dex knows it by heart, can play it in his head if he closes his eyes. same food, same routine, same porn every day. repetition comforts him.
or at least this is how it was before meeting you.
now virgin!dex can’t get off like he used to. when he watches the video he has to picture you instead of the girl to cum. he badly photoshoped your face over hers on a still image from the porno, printing his pathetic little montage to jerk off to it.
virgin!dex stalks you every week-end and one night he sees you cry in your apartment. he knows he’s a sick fuck but he’s so hard watching you upset like that. he pictures you like in his porno, crying and moaning, pleading, no,no,no—dex s’toomuch pleaseplease, but fuck you’re a bad liar cause he can feel how wet your are for him when your cunt swallows his cock. he fucks his fist so hard in his car he comes in two minutes, his abused cock turning a nasty shade of red in his death grip. he spends the rest of the evening trying to wipe the mess he made all over the dashboard.
usually he’s cleaner than that, spitting his load in a paper tissue he can easily discard. but not when he thinks about you, not when he watches you. fuck, when he thinks about it, it's kinda irritating how much you disrupt him with so little. he's a bit mad at you for making him cum so much, in such a messy way.
when he scrubs the sticky spots on the plastic, he wonders how it’ll feel when he’ll fuck you for real. you’ll be on your back, legs bent, smothered between your two bodies, ankles hanged above his shoulders. split open when he’ll bottom out. how he’ll react when he’ll feel your cunt clenched around his cock and your juices drenching his pelvis, dripping on his balls. and the sounds you’ll make....
he hopes he’ll last long like the guy in the video.
warnings: smut, piv, pussy eating, squirting, small depictions of violence, slight pervy!whitaker, sports au!
a/n: saw one tiktok about how ballet and boxing are “sister sports” so i had to indulge.
boxer!whitaker who can’t help but want to reach out and touch you. you’re so soft and sweet he just wants to have his way with you forever.
boxer!whitaker who eats you out with bruises all over his face and multiple missing teeth and it’s the best head you’ve ever had.
boxer!whitaker who leaves the ring with a black eye and chugs two five hour energies to attend your dance recital.
boxer!whitaker who helps you paint your nails and will even let you paint his too. (he loves when you leave long scratches on his back so he can show them off the next day during training.)
boxer!whitaker who rewards you after your performance. “you did so great up there..my sweet girl..” he’ll whisper into your neck as your legs are wrapped around his hips and his big cock is thrusting in and out of your sweet pussy.
boxer!whitaker who loves to make you squirt. it’s like his superpower, he’s the only one to ever coax it out of you.
boxer!whitaker who loses a fight and takes his frustration out on you. the headboard is shaking with each thrust, your breathing is erratic and your eyes are rolling back into your head. and him? he’s lost in it too. his brows are furrowed, a light layer of sweat covering his pale skin. and he’s making you cum 5 times before he finally pumps his hot load into your soft cunny.
boxer!whitaker who plays with your clit over your panties for 10 minutes at the least before he finally takes them off. foreplay is very important to him and he likes to make your lacey underwear all messy and wet for him. (definitely not so he can retrieve them later for his spank bank) it drives him insane.
boxer!whitaker who loves to kiss you. your lips are so soft and warm compared to his. and he loves to shove his tongue down your throat to taste your spit.
boxer!whitaker who is surprisingly very touchy. whether you’re holding hands during sex or in a large public crowd, or spooning during bedtime. he always needs to be touching you. he aches for it.
Licking on dex scar during missionary… that alone will drive him crazy. he’d get sloppy afterwards mumbling and cursing bcs you could do anything to taunt him; he has the patience for it all but licking the scar??? wheww that’d do it….
WHEWWW
and at first he would be thrusting into you slowly and lovingly, his cock sinking into your tummy and drawing little gasps from you. your quivering legs just closing in on his waist every time he draws back and pushes his length into your cunt. and with how tender dex is being it makes you so needy that you just want to kiss him :(( making grabby hands at him until he smiles and lowers his head down for you, letting you wrap your arms around his neck. “needy girl..” he’ll mumble, knowing he totally loves it when you get like this.
you’re just pecking at his lips and his neck, whines of dex.. and feels s’good.., sweetly leaving your lips after every smooch. you’ve pulled him so close that your cheeks are pressed together and you could hear his breaths in your ear, hard panting and strained groans every so often. and you really weren’t thinking when you did it, your lips were already kissing at his cheekbones when you decided to lick a long stripe against his scar. tongue gliding over the damaged skin with a pant as you hold him close to you, tasting the sweat of darkened scar. and dex just stills in his movements, his cock still snug in between your legs as he takes in how fucking hot that was.
you hear dex groan out a rough, “fuck..”, his hands moving from holding behind your head to gripping at your hips, sloppily pounding into your cunt with need. and he hits right at your g-spot extracting a sob from your throat, instinctively hiding into dexs shoulder. “hey, stop that. keep doing what you were doing sweetheart.. for me yeah?” dex urges, taking one of his hands from your hips and pulling your head from his neck. with tears running down your face you start to lap at dexs face again, and you give him little kitten licks at his scar with a whimper.
his mouth curls into a grin and he bites his lip, eyes shut in pleasure as his hips rock into you harshly. “atta girl just like that..” you hear, feeling your core tighten up with an intense orgasm creeping up on you.
you can barely keep up steady licks on dexs cheek, only managing a slick stripe on his skin every moment from how much he’s rocking you back and forth on the bed. and his thrusts stutter when you clench around his length, tightly squeezing around him while you cum, his cock having to pry itself from your sopping folds. dex is mumbling curses in your ear and you know he’s about to cum himself, cos he gets all sloppy and hazy, cock pulsing with the need to paint your walls. dex plunges his load in your hole with lowly moan — you’re hiding in his shoulder again, and his face is all messy with spit because of you!