Asking him to pass you a teabag and instead of taking those few extra steps he just throws it in your mug for you.
Forgetting to turn off the lights before going to bed and instead of letting you get up he just balls up a sock and throws it at the light switch. The clothes hamper now sits nicely under the light so he’s not overwhelmed by clothes on the ground when it inevitably happens again.
He never misses your mouth when he kisses you. Always right on the money!
You’re having a bad day, walking down the street. Maybe something happened at work. The pocket of your jacket suddenly feels heavier than just a few seconds prior. You put your hand in your pocket only to pull out your favourite candy. You look around, even up at fire escapes and windows. You don’t know where he is but he’s definitely around!
In summer, you make it your mission to get him to toss your sunglasses onto your face. Tipping your chin up as you dig into your beach bag for sunscreen, asking so sweetly if he could put your sunglasses on.
He does it, of course, and gets all that more smitten as you beam towards him. The frames sitting proudly on the end of your nose.
accidentally(?) torturing dex while making out bc you’re sat in his lap, grinding down on him through both your layers of clothes. and you’re clearly content with a slow, sloppy make out session while dry humping him, but after 15 minutes all he starts begging for you to stop teasing and just let him have you bc if not he’s gonna cream his pants
HEHEEE and like- what if he did cream his pants? you being so drunk on the idea of dex getting worked up from just making out, continuing to grind yourself on top of him and kiss him until he's grunting desperately into your mouth, snarling at you, his voice going gravel deep when he begs "please, inside baby-", grabbing at your hips fiercely, rudely, trying to get you to slow down or move up but failing miserably because its already too late, laughing into his slacked mouth when he shudders all over and you can feel the warmness pooling inside his black pants 🫣
I am here to beg you (kindly, nicely and with a pretty bow on top) for some somno kink maekar and reader + morning sex? 👉👈 established consent ofc!!! Like him waking up with reader’s mouth on him 🙈
hypnos
Maekar x Wife!Reader drabble
Note: Modern era moodboard, but I'm vague enough that this could be in canon era. Also, I threw my self-imposed word limit to the wind for this one.
You woke when a plinth of light fell across your eyes. Squinting against the sunshine, you stretched slowly, your limbs protesting as they remembered the previous day’s exertions.
A healthy flush stained your cheeks and your gaze fell to the side, where your husband was still fast asleep. His silver hair was tousled – the work of your own hands a few hours ago – and scratches and bruises lingered on his skin. Some of them yours, some his rowdy children, some his training’s.
Sometime during the night, he had wrestled himself from beneath the covers. Maekar always ran hot. As such, his nude form was laid bare as he rested on his back, arms tucked to the side. He sleeps like a dead man on his pyre, you thought. Quiet, breathy snores and the slow rise and fall of his broad chest assured you of the fact that he was very much alive.
Your eyes fell lower. You felt like some kind of cretin – leering at Maekar’s manhood as he slept, unaware. He was not even hard. His cock rested against his thigh, still impressive in size, despite being soft.
When aroused, it sometimes looked angry, aggressive. Like this, there was something vulnerable to it – something you found irresistible.
You began ghosting your fingertips over your husband’s happy trail, following the blonde hairs like a map.
An exhale. You glanced at Maekar’s face sharply, but it remained slack, his frown lines smoothed out. He looked so peaceful like this, so handsome. Unburdened.
Your fingers continued their descent, and reached the thatch of hair at his base. You ran your digits through it lovingly, knowing how good it felt rubbing against you when you fucked each other.
Beneath your hand, his cock jumped. Once, twice. Alarmed, you watched for other signs that Maekar was waking up, but nothing else about him changed. Not his breathing, nor the looseness of his body that was never present while he was conscious.
You knew that your husband would gladly entertain you should he wake, but you found that you did not want him to. The fragility of him as he slept was what you desired, what made your insides throb with need.
Your mouth flooded with saliva, and you swallowed, torturously aware of the rush of wetness between your thighs as you imagined your sleeping husband’s still mostly soft cock between your lips, the velvety texture of his skin, the give of his flesh before blood engorged his shaft.
Maekar liked waking you by burying his head between your legs – and the only reason you had never done the same to him was that he was usually up and about when you were still bleary with sleep.
You leaned down and retraced your path with your lips, ephemeral kisses placed upon his pale skin. You quickly reached his length.
Briefly, you simply nuzzled against it, relishing the soft texture brushing your cheek, your chin tapping against his sack.
You did not tease yourself for long, drawing his rapidly thickening cock into your mouth, tongue running over his veiny, sensitive underside.
Salt and bitter musk exploded on your senses, as well as a faint tang that you realised was what remained of your own juices. A stuttered breath later, you licked at his mushroom-shaped head, pointing the wet muscle of your tongue and flicking it along his weeping slit.
Your cheeks hollowed as he slowly but surely filled out in the snug cavern of your mouth, your jaw working to accommodate his generous girth.
Eager to feel more of him, you bobbed your head, engulfing more of him, only stopping when his length threatened to choke you. Spit dribbled past your lips, down your chin and onto his twitching flesh as you kept your head right at that edge, your nose almost nestled against his groin. You held yourself there for a few heartbeats longer, then began exploring him further.
Like a woman possessed you kissed along his erection, licking and sucking on his ruddy head, lavishing it with attention as though he was the sweetest treat you had ever tasted.
Eyes flickering up at his serene face, you shoved a hand between your legs, sliding easily through your own arousal as you began grinding on the heel of your palm.
Slick sounds echoed lewdly through the silence of your bedroom, and you moaned softly around Maekar’s rigid shaft, his hips instinctively rocking back into your mouth whenever you withdrew to breathe.
A burst of flavour made you grin. Maekar’s cock was leaking across your tongue, his flesh hot and throbbing as you sucked harder. Your free hand pressed lightly on his hip to still him and give you control over the depth as your own hips rolled in time with the motion of your head in Maekar's lap.
By now, his breathing had started coming in quicker, along with your own, and you could not say that you were truly surprised when your husband’s large hand clumsily but firmly settled atop your crown, long fingers threading through your hair. A guiding, familiar weight – a gesture so possessive and comforting that a whine rose inside of you.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he mumbled drowsily, his baritone voice rumbling, rough with sleep, “you’re so good to me.”
He groaned, dislodging your loose grip on his hip effortlessly – probably entirely ignorant of the fact it had even been there, in the haze of his lust – and thrusting into you with abandon. Once, twice, three times. You whimpered, spluttering, fighting to stay relaxed as he tensed with a shudder, buried to the hilt.
Maekar came with a grunt, thick spurts of salty cum flooding your mouth, shooting down your throat as you desperately swallowed around his pulsating cock, trying to keep it all inside. A moment later, you fell apart on your own fingers, the muscles of your cunt fluttering and clenching around nothing.
You kept your mouth around him until you were sure he was completely spent, then you withdrew slowly, licking your lips to catch a stray droplet trying to make an escape.
“Seven Hells, woman, you’re insatiable. Did I not tire you out enough last night?” he groused, though his hand began cupping your cheek as you rested it against his belly, staring up at him with a lethargic smile. You hummed.
“You’re just too handsome,” you said hoarsely, blinking slowly and growing tired again in the aftermath of your own orgasm. “Like having you in my mouth.”
need to lick and sniff maekar targaryen all over. press my face into his belly and just stay there forever. bite his happy trail and lick it clean after. nuzzle his crotch like a cat and
mating press is heavy on my mind today like not even being able to squirm underneath him because he’s literally shoving you through the mattress with his entire weight. him not even thrusting but letting his heavy cock sit all the way deep inside you as he presses kisses all over your face and reassures you that it’s okay and that he’ll take it slow. and you tear up a little because it hurts just the tiniest bit in this position but then he’s whispering how good you are for him while caging you tight in his arms and
⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; A bit of Dex's sadism shows through despite his best efforts.
⋆ tags/warnings. benjamin poindexter x female reader. SMUT!!!! PURE PORN. im so tired of the "bullseye is innocent" crowd, that man is a SADIST, so warnings for sadism, lowkey sheltered dex, slightly rough dex, insecure dex, obsessive dex, you're his north star, he's having sex with the love of his life and lowkey doesnt know what to do, some HEINOUS things, dex is probably a virgin but knows how to use his talents during sex LMAO, swearing. i love this man, but he's such a hard character to write for. I hope i did him some justice.
♫ “What is mine, What is all mine. / Ain't a man in this world who can pull me down from my dark star. / Hold you just a little while, i'm gonna give her all my life.” Dark Star by POLICA
"Don't. Move."
The low, husky baritone of his voice commands just above a whisper. There's a tense expression on his face, one of his hands brought up to hold you still. Despite the bark in his words, the hold he has on you is weak. Like a fumbling boy trying not to damage a prized vase. A prized vase he just wants to throw against a wall and break.
Two of his fingers come up to spread the lips of your pussy with a swallow. His jaw is clenched so tight it might crack. His focus is unwavering, unable to be split on anything else other than that little sensitive bud of nerves of yours.
Intrusive thoughts rear their way through his head.
Touch her. Lick her. Fuck her. Shove your fingers down her throat. Take out your cock. Line it up like a shot. Just up until the head pops past that tight little ring of hers, and she spasms like you pulled the trigger.
His thumb brushes over your swollen clit- once, feather-light- and your hips twitch involuntarily.
There it is. No guesswork. Always so easy to find. You could pinch it until she screams. You could rub it until she blacks out. You could slap it raw. You could suck it between your teeth and finger-fuck her until she twitches. He thinks and thinks and thinks.
He doesn't register your pleas at first, trying to focus. Push these thoughts out of his head. But when he does, Dex’s eyes snap up to yours, dark and fixated.
“I said. Don’t. Move.” The words come out rough, but the warning is soft, almost gentle. It's that strict familiar edge underneath that makes your stomach flip. “You’re dripping down my fingers. And I’ve barely touched you. Look at this...mess.”
He says it like he's annoyed- but he's not. Not in a million years. But he takes the opportunity to degrade you, knowing it's one of the few times he'll allow himself to. God, if only he didn't feel guilty. He wars with himself most nights.
You are his North Star. He would kill any man, any woman, any child that looked at you wrong. He protects you. And you protect him from all these...impure thoughts.
So why is it, the more time he spends with you, all he wants to do is use that perfect aim of his to fuck you out so filthy he feels sick after?
The thought sits there, ugly and heavy. Dex hates it. He hates how hard his cock is, how his fingers are already soaked past the knuckle, how his mouth is watering at the thought of destroying the only person he’s sworn to keep safe.
His thumb stays glued to your clit, pressing with that terrifying accuracy. No wasted movement. He starts rubbing tight, mean, perfect circles that make your legs jerk.
“Stop twitching,” he mutters, voice low and rough. “I told you not to move. You can’t even do that right?”
Fuck. It gets him hot, talking to you like that.
His fingers curl hard inside you, stroking that same devastating angle with machine-like precision. The wet, obscene squelching fills the room.
"Look how easy you open up for me." He scoffs, but his lips twitch into a crooked smile. His voice drops even lower. “I could aim my cock right here-” he presses viciously against your g-spot, and out comes a groan from him.
He begins to abuse the spot uncontrollably, not even looking at his fingers ramming into that perfect place. No, his eyes are all on you, his breathing heavy and his teeth gritting, fighting for some semblance of composure. To make you proud.
But you're squeezing him so tight. And you're arching into his touch. And he's fucking his North Star. The thought makes his eyebrows pull together and a ragged breath fall from his lips.
“You want me to lose it? Huh?”
His thumb rubs your clit faster, merciless and accurate. Deep down, somewhere inside him, he knows you can't answer. He knows you can't do anything to resist even if you wanted too. And he likes that.
“Answer me.”
He pushes. Harder. Rougher. He hopes you know how sorry he is for this. But he knows that it would be all a lie. How can he feel sorry, when you're trapped up against him like this?
“Thought so.”
He yanks his fingers out, flips you onto your back with rough hands, and shoves your thighs wide apart. His cock is flushed dark and leaking as he lines himself up. No more waiting. He pushes in with one rough, thick thrust, jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumps as he stretches you open.
“Don't… don’t move,” he hisses through gritted teeth, repeating, voice strained and mean. “Just take it. Take it.”
Every time you cry out, he has to close his eyes, still buried deep inside you. His intrusive thoughts tell him if he gets one more look at you, he might just give in and fuck you like the animal he really is.
Jon Bernthal willingly uses his platform to lend a voice to abusers of women, push the zionist propaganda that Palestine were equal oppressors, and be an egregious cop bootlicker that openly praised cops wearing the Punisher skull.
Triple threat of dogshittery but this app babies and protects him to death and acts like none of these are verifiable from his own fucking social media and podcast 🥴
There is really something strange about how female celebrities that show their true colors like Sydney Sweeney gets easily lambasted but their equally gross male celebrity counterparts that are unapologetic with their dogshit stances like Bernthal is given endless grace and protected. Why not keep the same energy? Wonder why.
Dex is back… where are all the fics?! And I swear I don’t want anymore smut. Give me yearning give me emotion not just horned up jorking it. Give me my man just got out the asylum and is coming to get me.
please go and educate yourselves about everything that trump is doing. ice agents are going out and ripping families apart, killing innocent people, kidnapping people, raping women, etc.
if you support ANYTHING that is happening in the world right now don’t ever interact with my account and block me. you are not welcome here.
children are being KIDNAPPED and held in facilities for simply just existing. if you can reason with the people who are doing said things you actually need to choke.
my entire heart goes out to the families that are experiencing such violence. please educate yourselves and spread the word because i don’t see enough people speaking up about this.
physical touch comes to benjamin poindexter as easy and as natural as breathing. whether it's a hand on your thigh when he's driving, or a pinky hooked 'round yours mid conversation. fingers intertwined with yours as you walk outside, of course, is normal for him. and at home, when he's navigating around you, even though he has ample space, his hand falls to the small of your back as he moves you gently to get around. there's a lazy arm slung over your shoulder, a finger drawing distracted patterns across your skin, his head heavy on your chest at night when he's asleep. and that's just the things he's not really aware he's doing.
sometimes, when he's in a particularly good mood, he'll kiss your lips until you're dizzy and laughing and breathless, then move onto the rest of your face while you catch up on oxygen and your surroundings.
"doin' too much, poindexter," you'll laugh, and he'll lean back in to lick a broad stripe up your cheek, because he's nothing if not unconventional, and if you even try to wipe it away, he'll just lick your hand too. or maybe you're not giving him enough attention, maybe you're busy working—most times, you don't even notice him, because of his training. not until he's sinking his teeth into your limb of his choice anyway. on luckier occasions when your camera's off in a meeting, you stifle your surprise until you're able to mute yourself and complain; on important calls, though, he's sitting on the floor by your legs, and you don't even feel his hand wrapping around your ankle, or his breath ghosting over your skin before pain shoots up your leg. on more than one occasion, you've been asked if everything's alright, and when you glare down at him later, all he does is grin back up at you. the worst part is you can't even stay mad at him when he's so beautiful and you're so in love.
the biting also continues… elsewhere, like he's determined to mark you as his territory. even if he's careful to make sure that all of them—okay, most of them—are hidden, he revels in the thought that your knowledge of them will remind you of him, regardless of where you are. oh, and the dull ache of the bruises left in his wake that are totally by accident because he definitely doesn't know his own strength is nice to think about too—even though you both know better than that.
and then there are the bad days. he'll walk in, silent, and you don't say anything, either. you know him too well for that—if he doesn't want to speak, he won't, and if you keep asking you'll just make it worse. so you wait, and he pulls you onto his lap and buries his face in your neck, and your hands are in his hair, and he just stays like that until he feels better—your weight on top of him is more comforting than he'd ever admit. rarer events are when you lose track of time, pass out without realising, and wake up hours into the night, a cramped tangle of limbs. but your shared warmth is more comfort in one sitting than he's felt in his life before you, so who is he to complain?
he wakes up before you almost every morning, but even then, you're conscious enough most of the time to feel his fingers trace over your face, like he's trying to memorise you, like he hasn't a million times over already. and when you pad into the kitchen, still half-asleep, he lets you drape yourself all over him and catch a few more minutes while he cooks breakfast.
you've changed his routine; he's always hated change, but he'll be lying if he says he's not grateful for it this time.
you nudge him with a toe, he lifts you up effortlessly into his arms and doesn't put you down, your feet are in his lap as you watch a movie while he traces those same idle patterns across them—you ask him, "what's that supposed to be?"
he pauses, smiles in the way he does when he knows something you don't.
"i'm sure you'll figure it out," he says unhelpfully. and it's simple—too simple, maybe, 'cause you feel stupid when you figure it out. i mean, you should've known what it was, because obviously—
it's a bullseye.
hi guess who. 0.7k words i think i died and went to hell except hell is being obsessed with this man. i actually hated him so much the first time i watched daredevil (~6 years ago) lol guess this is karma. pls reblog to support ur authors !!
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