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@infinitegalahad
reminder to all writers
you are talented, and more than capable of creating something extraordinary
your way of telling a story is unique, there’s not a single story in this world that could, or would, ever be told the same way, by any writer;
meaning, you bring something remarkable to the table, a story that never would have been told, if it wasn’t for you
and no amount of self-doubt is going to change that
BIRD IN A CAGE (CH.9)
Pairing: Benjamin Poindexter x Female! Reader
Summary: Dex’s darkness should have made you run. Months ago, it would have, and now, you felt like a magnet towards it.
Word-Count: 9.8k
Warnings: Smut, Spanking, Choking, Rough Sex, Breeding Kink, Minor Mentions of Throw Up, Extremely Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Author’s Note: previous chapter. and song, trust me it is important. anyways hello all ! first of all, i apologise for the major delay. dealing with an internship, two remote summer classes, and family drama was incredibly draining. i am finishing up my two classes this friday, which frees me up ! i just have been both busy and drained. but here is the grand finale ! it's the longest chapter to date. it was going to be two parts but I figured I'd make it two since I plan on writing the epilogue, which should be out by the weeknd (hopefully). it won't be as long as this. i hope you guys enjoy this! this was a blast to write and I'm going to miss updating it, but I'll def (try) and write for more dex if life does not try and test me more. as always, thank you for the support and enjoy ! also random, but my asks are open! please come and yap with me. you can ask me whatever you want about the story, we can talk about dex, maybe do some head canons, and more! just thought I'd put it out there. anyways as always enjoy ! :^]
Taglist: @star-yawnznn @efiask @n0bodykn0wss @miixkl @obsessedwithfakeguys
Masterlist
The closer you and Dex became, the more the pit in your stomach began to grow.
The FBI was close to finding you; he knew it as much as you did. No more runs, no more gas station runs, and no even going outside. Dex only let you go into the backyard to the fireplace, which was inches from the back door. If you were outside, he’d keep a hawkish eye on you. You were convinced he had memorized your breathing patterns at that point, just as a way to track you.
It had to have been the last time you were out at the gas station. Bill had been giving you strange looks and acting odd. Taking longer looks at you, slowing the conversations down to keep you longer, and a list of other strange mannerisms. It was a sign that they were getting closer, and Bill’s odd interaction was your confirmation.
Intentionally, as this closure had confined you, it had also brought you two closer. In many ways.
“They know.”
Dex slowly said into your ear, gently biting it. You whined at the action, feeling his hands wrap around you as he further buried himself into you. Once the tip of his throbbing dick brushed your cervix, he let out a long sigh and brought you closer.
“They know I have you. Right in my arms,” Dex grunted as he picked up the pace. As he began to thrust further, your whimpers began louder, gripping onto the sheets until your knuckles turned white.
“Right here. Just like this,” Dex rose up, moving his hands up to your hips as he arched your back with a simple bend of his hands. He pressed your neck down as he brutally slammed into you. You now couldn’t control your whines and moans, which made Dex growl like some animal, and fuck you like one too.
“Knowing I’m taking you like this,” He smirked, you could hear it in his voice. He placed a firm hand on your ass and squeezed it tight, keeping the arch in your back. “Oh, sweetheart.”
“Taking me so well. Crying until I make you cum. Getting stretched out every single night-”
“Dex, oh, I-”
You knew it would drive him crazy, and at that point, he had begun slamming into you, holding you down a bruising grip.
“Letting herself get taken like the good girl she is,” You felt his fingers dig into the plush of your cheek, and were convinced it was going to draw blood, “Crying for me to finish in her tight clit and fill her with my seed. That’s what you like, right sweetheart?”
Fuck, you were a mess at this point as you cried and whined, but you couldn’t control your walls tightening around Dex’s dick. He had felt it and chuckled slyly to himself.
“That’s my good girl,” Dex praised, moving his hand from the back of your neck to your cheek. Stopping his brutal place, but remaining in you, He gently stroked your cheek, brushing the edge of your lip[s with his calloused thumbs, before covering your mouth with his hand. With a grunt, he pulled out, right before slamming right back in, creating a new brutal pace.
“My sweet girl. My girl. Mine. That’s what you are. Mine. Mine only.” Dex clearly stated as he fucked you, whines and moans covered by his hand. At this point, you couldn't control yourself, feeling your saliva pool in the palm of his hand.
“I’d do anything to protect you. Protect what’s mine. You’re no one. No man will ever get to see this again. No man will ever touch you again.
At this point, you knew Dex had left a bruise. Not that you were complaining.
“If they touch you, I’d slit their throat and make them watch me take you. Fuck you like no other man because your mine. And you're mine only, ____.”
With a few more brutal thrusts, Dex pushed in tight and leaned down to finish inside of you. He had worn a condom, but you felt the warmth in your walls. He held you close as he finished, making sure every drop of his cum got into the condom. Once he finished, he remained on top of your back, pressing gentle kisses to your back. Once it had finished, he had returned to the Dex who thought you were made of glass. He massaged the forming bruise on your ass, which made you even more wet. You made a mental note to check it out in the mirror
“I’d do anything for you,” He cooed into your ear, pressing gentle kisses to it, “I’d kill anyone to keep you safe, ____.”
You never moved once, soaking into his intoxicating touch.
Dex’s darkness should have made you run. Months ago, it would have, and now, you felt like a magnet towards it.
One minute, you hated Dex. The next, you leaned right into him when he had fucked you. While the sex was incredible, and unlike any other sex you had had before, Dex further injured you. Most times, he had been gentle with you, even startled by holding you too tight. However, there were instances where Dex would get a little rougher, whether it be a bruising grip or pushing you into a position that would make you soak. The last time the two of you had sex, he had left a little mark on the fat of your ass. Everytime you looked at it, it made you go red. He had given you tidbits of how rough he could go, and the more you pushed, the little more the darker side showed.
The sex had brought you two much closer. You wondered if it was because you knew something was going to occur, or if it had been genuine. You would gravitate towards Dex in a space, and he would bring you close to him.
You’d lean on him and he’d stroke and play with your hair. Other times, when you are going to sleep or waking up, he’d kiss you, and you wouldn’t deny it. Even just getting a little peak would make Dex’s stress go away, in which you saw firsthand.
Dex loved it when you touched him first. Most times, he would initiate, but in the few times you would, it would drive him mad. You two had been watching an old move and you had placed your hand on top of his, a first. Dex moved his larger fingers under and over yours, entangling them together. You didn’t grab your hands and let it flow, smiling to yourself when he squeezed your hand. The next morning, you’d wake up, and feel Dex holding your hand, no matter what position you two had woken up in. You’d smile at the hold, knowing he had woken up before just to hold your hand. To remind him you were awake, you give it a squeeze, and not even a second later, Dex would squeeze it right back, but longer and firmer.
And while it would make you blush and smile to yourself, it was also a gentle reminder to who Dex was, and why he was being hunted by the FBI.
But yet, you had been reassured that you were safe with Dex. He was a monster, and deep down you knew it, but he had also been yours. Dex was terrifying, but yet, he was at your whim. He’d get on your knees for you (literally) and beg for your forgiveness. The type of man to kill anyone that would keep you from him, but couldn’t bear to be in another room without you.
You had been playing a game of survival in this house, and yet as the days went on, you found your moral compass being gradually eroded.
–
“Alexa, what’s the weather?”
You and Dex sat on the couch in the living room on a humid August afternoon. It had been the dog days of summer. It has also marked three months of your captivity. While the fact haunted you, it didn’t startle you as much as it did. Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something felt off with Dex.
Dex had been his usual self, but you felt as if he had been holding back. While you write confined to the house, Dex had been out often, and for longer hours. He had taken two night trips so far, and when you asked, he told you not to worry. When he took those night trips, you only assumed the worst, but he would make sure to leave and return when you were sleeping so he could wake you. It was his way of definitely avoiding questions. Regardless, Dex treated you the same, but bit his tongue. You itched to pry, but made a note of it to stay aware. Given the time you had on your hands, you’d figure it out with due time.
You had been building a lego on the couch when Dex had seen and joined. It was an unspoken language between the two of you. Dex would simply come by you, no matter the task, and sit near you. Ideally, he’d put an arm around you or pull you into his lap, but not smother you (for the most part.
His arm hung behind your head, not touching you, but lingering. Putting down the Lego set you were building (it was the hundredth you had built), you watched the device go blue before it gave a word.
“Right now, it’s 88 degrees with high humidity. Expected scattered thunderstorms later this evening with a low of 71. Have a nice day.”
Once the light faded, you hummed and leaned back, bringing a piece to the lego. Beside you, Dex didn’t move, but you felt him shift. His fingers moved closer to graze the nape of your neck. While the touch was feather light, it commanded your entire attention.
“Maybe the rain will break the heat,” He murmured. You could smell his cedar cologne and sandalwood on him. While you enjoyed the same, iIt had the same exact scent you had gotten Jaxson for his birthday last year.
You bit your tongue, in which he noticed. Instead of looking at you, his gaze was fixed on the fireplace with his hand further sliding into your hair. It nearly made you drop the lego piece in your hand.
“Mhm,” You mumbled, “You can ask it. You know.”
Dex looked at the coffee table, right at the blue Alexa.
“I bet it knows. Those things listen to everything you say.”
With a firm grasp on your neck, Dex moved your neck towards his shoulder, making you lean against his shoulder. You didn’t protest and instead held the lego piece in your hand, fidgeting with your fingers.
“They do. And?”
Dex looked down at you with a perplexed look, confused as to why you weren’t worried.
You looked back up and shrugged at him, deciding to try another trick
“Alexa, what is your favorite cuisine?”
A few seconds passed as Alexa processed the question before answering it.
“I enjoy Indian cuisine the most.”
Humming at the response, you looked up at Dex and held your hand out the machine.
“I also enjoy Indian cuisine too, just like Alexa,” You had commented.
Dex looked down and scoffed at your joke. One simple shift had pulled you to him. You wanted to pull away, to distance yourself from his suffocating possessiveness that both felt like a blanket and cage, but that was a part of you that you craved.
Leaning over, Dex placed a kiss on your forehead and held you close, basking in the warm silence between you two. You knew not to move, but a part of you didn’t want to move. And it terrified you that you felt that way about him.
“I know a really good Indian place in the city,” He casually remarked into your hair. The pads of his fingers ghosted over the sensitive spot on your neck, making goosebumps appear on your skin, “They had the best Poori.”
“Do they know?”
“Mhm,” Dex nodded, “I wanna take you there.”
Dex didn’t flinch or blink. Rather, he just continues the slow rhythm of stroking the back of your neck. You looked up and made direct eye contact as he looked down, giving you all of his attention. He used his thumb to trace your jaw that made your heart jammer against your ribs.
“Do you now?” You mustered out, feeling something flutter instead of you at his touch.
“I do,” Dex admitted with a low libration in his voice, “And I will.”
The walls of your prison in the house were merely minor inconveniences he had already accounted for in some dark and internal ledger. Regardless, he was unsettlingly calm.
“You’d wear a pretty blue dress. You look beautiful in it,” Dex said into your hair, “Something silk.”
“Silk?” You chuckled to yourself.
“Half of your pajamas and shirts are that, sweetheart,” Dex noted, “I’d buy you something to wear. Something you’d like, of course.”
Dex’s fantasy was a dangerous delusion that made you forget the bruises he had left on your neck only months before. You knew Dex was blurring the lines and attempting to paint a picture of a normal life, knowing that something was going to break. Looking at the blue light of the Alexa on the table, you focused on the moving life and wondered if the FBI had been listening. A part of you wished they had to catch him, but also hear what he had done to you.
“Every man would look at you, but I’m the only one who gets to take you home.”
Dex’s grip tightened, pulling you closer. Turning your face towards his, his eyes darkened with a hunger that was both terrifying and intoxicating. His thumb hovered over your bottom lip, and you looked up, smiling.
"You're dreaming,” You whispered, leaning right into his thumb. But you didn’t pull away, you couldn’t.
Dex stares right back at you with his dark eyes. In those moments of silence, Dex takes you in. He's not looking at you in an obsessive or lustful way, but rather a longing manner. You feel him sigh in relief when you move an inch up, bringing your faces inches apart. Taking the hint, Dex closed the inches between you two, pressing your lips together.
It’s a gentle peck at first. Slowly nudging to lean into the kiss, Dex exhales and puts his hands on your lower back, bringing you onto his lap. Your hips rest on the center of his body with your hands cupping his cheeks as you deepen the kiss. Dex moves his hand up your mind, gently massaging it before finding the back of your neck again. His fingers glide under your hair and grab hold of it, gently pulling you back. As the kiss breaks, Dex begins to kiss your neck and sucks underneath your chin. He opens his eyes to look at you, lips agape and flustered on top of him. It was embarrassing the condition of guilt and lust you felt on top of him.
“Baby,” Dex mumbled the term of endearment like a prayer. His hand remained in your hair while the other rested on the small of your back, fingers crazing against the flush of your ass. You whined at the touch and adjusted before feeling him pull your hair and pull you in the place.
“Don’t,” You managed to get out with flushing cheeks and an undeniable feeling of attraction occurring.
Dex held you still in back, holding you down with your hair and lower back. looking like a cat that ate the canary. He looked incredibly satisfied with himself; you, on his lap, totally in his control.
“Don’t hold back.”
The shit-eating grin suddenly disappeared from his face. His face softened, but he still held you in his grasp. It had been unspoken, but the two of you knew what you were referring to.
When he hadn’t responded, you dug your knees into the side of the couch and slid your heat against his bulge. Dex shuddered at it and leaned back into the couch, roughly pulling your hair back. You let out a moan as he held onto your hair tight, throwing your head back and quickly back up to look at him. The darkness that had appeared for a second disappeared, with Dex’s hesitation stopping him.
“Dex,” Your voice commanded, this time firmer, causing him to look right at you with intent.
“I said, don’t hold back.”
Five seconds hadn't passed and immediately, Dex stood up and switched the two of you. With a yelp, he threw you into the couch with your face in the pillows and ass in the air. For a moment, he observed you and ran his hands up and down your back before landing on your ass. In a swift motion, he took your pants off and began to knead the skin of your ass. It had been oddly gentle as he looked in the mass before bringing his hand to strike your left cheek.
Letting out a squeal, you dug your hands into the pillows as he struck the opposite side. While it hadn’t been too harsh, it was hard enough to sting. Even while it had hurt, you felt yourself embarrassingly shaken.
“Look at you,” Dex lowly said as he pulled your burning ass right up to his crotch. Once he aligned his bulging erection with your soaking underwear, he slid his hands to cusp your breasts. As he grinned against the fabric of your wetness, he used his fingers to flick your nipples. You shuddered at the contact and dug your face further into the pillows.
With a satisfied hum, Dex tightly grasped your breasts with both of his hands, leaning down to press a kiss onto the top of your head. You could feel his erection slide in between the fabric of your underwear, knowing that you were leaking.
“That’s it,” He buried his nose in your hair before taking a sharper grind into your ass, “Whining and crying all for me.”
Ungrasping one of your breasts, two of his fingers slid down your chest towards your naval. His digits hovered against your clitoris, gently flicking it, causing you to shift.
Dex leaned further into you, forcing you further into the couch, preventing your movement. Reaffirming his stance by digging his fingers into your boob, he used his other hand to slide under your underwear and push right into your wetness. You let out a mixture of a mewl and moan as you turned your head to the side to look at Dex, smirking as he quickly moved his fingers in and out of you.
“You’re always so fucking tight,” He remarked, moving his hand from your breast to your neck. He leaned into you and grinded into you further, curling his fingers inside of you. You were unable to form any coherent words as you lifted your head to speak, only letting noises of pleasure and overwhelm escape you, “I always have to loosen you up every time I’m inside you. But whenever I come back,” When Dex pushed a third digit in, it had totally overwhelmed you.
“Oh my god,” He gasped, “You’re an angel. Fucking perfect.”
With shaking knees and milky fluids dripping down your thighs, Dex knew you were close. As you mumbled that you were going to finish, Dex moved to the side. As he violently pulled his fingers in and out of you, he began to suck on the side of your neck, leaving marks all on your sweet spots. His hands, his smell, his lips–all it caused you to finish all over his fingers.
But no, Dex wasn’t done with you. Pulling his fingers out of you, he used the hand on your neck to pull you up and turn you over. With wobbling legs and skin covered in red marks, you watched him stare into your eyes and suck his fingers, covered in your cum. He took his time sucking each digit, one by one, savoring the taste. You simply stare, your whole body feeling like jelly, knowing that the worst (the best) is yet to come.
Even though you had cum, you craved Dex’s dick. It was not only the perfect length and girth, but he knew how to use it. He knew his size and knew the ways to make you feel pleased with it, all while having his way. As he slowly sucked his fingers, he used his free hand to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, freeing his hardening cock. The veins had popped out due to how hard he had been. He scanned your body as he sucked on his index finger, full of your cum, stroking himself.
You didn't know what compelled you to move forward and reach for his dick. The tip had made your mouth drool. However, you didn’t even make it far before Dex harshly grabbed your hair and pulled you back. His sheer strength pulled you off of the couch and onto his knees to look at him with his penis scraping your cheek.
“Did I say you could move?” Dex coaxed with a low smile. When you didn’t respond, he pulled your hair back further, which made you shake your head.
“Words, sweetheart. Use your words.”
The low and gravelly sound of your voice made you shiver, preparing for another orgasm.
“No,” You managed to get out, holding back a whine.
Puckering his lips, Dex gloated at the scene; you, held back on your knees, as his cock bounced across your back.
“Good girls move when I tell them to,” He stated, “And when they don’t, this happens.”
Yanking you up to your feet, Dex lifted you and threw you over his shoulder. You decided to playfully fight back, squirming and kicking, but Dex grabbed your feet and restrained you against him. Moving quickly up the stairs, he kicked the bedroom door open and threw you onto the bed. You didn’t even have time to adjust into the bed as you climbed on top of you. With a dark (yet handsome) expression on his face, his bulky frame overshadowed you. You curled at the sight before feeling his fingers moved under your tank top. Digging his other hand on the top of it, he harshly pulled on the fabric. Gasping, it began to rip, and Dex removed it in a clean rip. Even though you were shocked, Dex ripped your shirt off so cleanly yet primarily, looking like a ravenous animal. He smirked as he looked at your exposed breasts and all of the deepening love bites across your neck and chest.
“My shirt,” You huffed, annoyed as he threw the fabric to the side, shifting under him.
Instead of giving you a vocal response, Dex slid his hands down and grabbed the top of your panties, also ripping them off. He ripped off your favorite colored panties in a clean rip, throwing them to the side. You once again sighed in disbelief as he pushed you back against the bed, climbing up and pushing your thighs back until your knees were in the air.
Before Dex had gone down on you, he stopped to look at you. He dug his fingers into your thighs, earning a mewl out of you, before smiling and winking. You loved the way the scar on his cheek moved when he did his shit eating and cocky smirk.
“I’ll buy you another pair.”
Dex eats you out like it was the last time he was ever going to eat you out. Even with how wet you were, Dex managed to suck in as much as you could. His tongue flicked around your clit as he buried himself into your thighs. Occasionally, he’d bite and suck at the sensitive skin around your thighs, leaving bitemakers that made you squirm and mewl. Even while he had been pleasing you, Dex had found a way to move you to his disposal, also while pleading himself. He had made you finish for a second time, and when you had squirted, he had taken in every last drop of you.
When he had finished sucking on you, Dex rose and wiped your remnants off his hand. As you leaned into the back of the bed, he reached to the bedside to grab a condom. Before he even opened the drawer, you placed a hand on his wrist. Dex immediately looked at you, hanging on your words.
“No,” You found your voice, “I don’t want you to wear a condom.”
Dex shuddered at those words, mouth going wide as he took in a deep breath. He looked at your nude form beneath him and bit his lip, feeling himself hardened only at the sight of you, but getting to feel you.
“I have my IUD,” You remarked.
Dex shifted to rest on top of you and engulf you with his hold. He moved to the side of the bed, tracing his thumb against your hipbone and stomach.
“You knew that.”
Dex looked above, letting the silence confirm he had. You didn’t want to know how he knew, but not that it mattered anyways. As his fingers lightly grazed the top of your stomach, looking down at it, you moved towards his ear, knowing what would make him snap.
“You’d be the first to feel me,” You cooed, lightly biting his ear as you shifted me, “All of me.”
Dex went completely still at the comment. His breath shuddered as his hand pressed down on your stomach. You didn’t have to look down to see how hard he was, feeling it in the air.
“You have no idea what you’re inviting,” He rasped with a low and dark tone you hadn’t heard before. His hands moved up to grab the sides of your head, knuckles white, to stare with you with an intensity that made you head pound.
“You think you’re safe here? Making the rules,” He leaned closer, pressing his forehead against yours, grinding against your naked firm. He let out a low growl at the sensation, bringing you closer, causing you to whine.
“I’ve been waiting to take you like that all this time. Just like this,” Dex stated, breath hot and ragged, “Say it again. Tell me you want me to feel you.”
Dex watched you, waiting, his dark gaze unmoving, as if he were daring you to take the words back.
You should have hesitated after all he had done. But yet the same guilt and hesitation that has haunted you before had utterly disappeared in the moment of intensity and heat.
Placing a hand on his cheek, you made sure to look right at him.
“Feel me. Take me, Dex,” You voice commanded, gently gripping onto his cheek, “Have your way with me-”
You hadn’t even gotten to finish your sentence before Dex pushed you back into the bed. As you landed back, Dex rose up to quickly take off his shirt and pants. Once off, he used one hand to pin both of your hands on the headboard, before pushing himself in with one push. The feeling of pleasure and pain made you wince as you shrunk. Once he had adjusted to you, Dex remained still and let out a low and guttural noise of approval. His hands pining you engulfed yours, now holding your hands above your head. He began to slowly pick up movement as he gently fucked you, shifitng hsi dick around to feel your walls. Sex had felt different without a condom, and there you felt all of Dex’s girth stretching you out.
“What am I gonna do with you, ___? My pretty girl,” Dex huffed, pulling out before shoving the tip back in, slamming into your cervix. Moaning, he moved up, moving fully in and of you, making sure to hit the sweet part of your cervix, which made you moan and made him smirk to himself.
“I’ve been thinking about filling you up for a long time,” Dex confessed softly. While keeping you pinned with one hand, slowly moving in and out of you, Dex brought his hand to cup your cheek, squeezing them to pucker your lips, “Seeing how much I can stretch you out and fill you with my cum. I’d be making you mine every single fucking night, baby.”
His very words caused him to harden inside of you, causing him to pull out and slam into you, more aggressive this time. When you whined, Dex smiled and moved his hand down to your throat. Even while he had been aggressive, Dex held your throat gently. You freed yourself from his pin, wrapping your hand around his wrist. You used your other hand to cup his cheek, in which he leaned into it with a hum of approval.
“When I first fucked you, you bled so much,” Dex gently reminded, lightly squeezing your neck, “If I’m being honest, I’d loved seeing your blood all over my dick. I put my claim over you. You were gonna be mine from the start.”
The words caused you to shiver in pleasure, soaking all over his throbbing dick. Dex pushed further him, thrusting as far as he could in you. He looked down at you, grunting, “Wanted to make you mine. All for me and only me.”
Smashing his lips into yours, Dex pulled out. He grabbed your leg and pulled it to his shoulder, wrapping your other leg around his back as he slammed right into you. There, Dex picked up the pace and began to fuck you with brute force. With the sound of skin slamming together to Dex bruising your cervix, you began to loudly cry at the pain and pleasure it brought you.
“You want all of me in you Sweetheart?,” Dex darkly announced. He held onto your ankle, slamming into you.
“Fill me up, please-” You had begged, letting your mind take over.
Dex hummed, once again wrapping his hand around your neck. You put your hand on top of his, holding it as he choked you. Dex held your hand in the chokehold, which drove him mad with pleasure.
“Wanna put my seed in you. Wanna make you mine permanently. Fill you up every fucking night so nobody touches you ever again. They won’t be able to touch you,” Dex grunted.
Feeling Dex’s dick vibrate inside of you, you mewled. Given his rapid fucking, you knew he was close.
“Say it, say your mine,” Dex commanded as he fucked you the hardest he could, sqeeuzing your neck, “I’m yours, ___. Say it, sweetheart.”
As he shook, knowing he was on the edge of finishing, you cried out, “I’m yours, Dex. Yours. All yours. Your sweetheart. Your girl. Your-”
With a low grunt, you are suddenly filled with warmth. Dex thrusts as deep as he can into you, making sure to fill you. You feel a warmness being pumped into you. As you threw your head back and let Dex fill you up, you relaxed your shoulders. Your whole body shook from the intense fucking and handling from Dex. You had asked him not to hold back, and he truly had not. You sunk into the bed, feeling Dex let out a sigh as he fell on top of you, keeping his dick inside of you. Sighing, you wrapped your hands around Dex as you closed your eyes, resting your body before you could process what had just happened.
There’s an unrecognizable shift in Dex. He had gone from fucking you like a hungry dog, throwing you around and digging his fingers into your flesh, to laying on top of you and wrapping his large arms around you, pressing gentle pecks on you. The same hands that had choked and slapped you were now caressing your sore body. You had never felt more stiff in your life, and it wasn’t helping that Dex’s warmth was still nestled in you.
“Hey there,” Dex nuzzled his nose into your ear, “You okay?”
You turned your head over to look at him, and shivered, nodding with a faint smile.
“Mhm. Sore.”
Looking at you with admiration, Dex moved your hair back to look at your face.
“I didn’t hurt you, right? Tell me, please.”
“No, no-” You reassured, moving up, but wincing, “-I did ask for you to do that…”
Seeing you wince, Dex reflexed to grab your arms and lean you into the bed. Noticing your shivering, Dex looked down at your body and bit his lip.
“And that I did,” Dex acknowledged, before looking at you and raising his eyebrows, almost shocked and proud of what he had done to you.
“And that I did, sweetheart.”
Softly pulling out of you, Dex grunted as you lifted himself from you. You whined at the emptiness, laying on your back, feeling the soreness climb all over your body. Your legs felt dry and sticky–with your skin crawling from the dried wetness and cum on the inner part of your thighs. Looking down down, you could already see the marks on your body, knowing they would be there for days. As he got out of the bed, he leaned over to place a kiss on your lips before heading to the bathroom. Turning on the light, you saw his form move towards the bathtub.
Shifting to your side, you thought about Dex asking if he had hurt you. You had asked Dex to be as rough as he, and to hurt you. You had never had sex like that before, and while you enjoyed it, you felt widely overwhelmed,d and ahemful. When Dex had wrapped his hands around your throat, there had been an unspoken rule around the night the two of you had met. You had closed your eyes and remembered the feeling of cold leather, smelling of blood and sweat, pressing into your throat. Those black and purple bruises lasted on you for two weeks.
But here you were, laying on your side and curling into a fetal position. Even while you felt sticky and gross, you missed Dex. You could hear the bathtub run and his whistling, but still, you craved his warmth beside you. You had gotten used to him being in your presence every waking minute of the day, whether that was waking up next to him, talking to him, cuddling with him, and more. Slowly, you had begun to forget what his suit had looked like. Was it black? Purple? Blue? A mixture of purple and blue?
As you laid, Dex’s whistling got closer. He stepped to the edge of the bed, seeing you curled to the corner. Curled on the upper corner of your bed, you’d brought your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. Your nose was buried in the messed up navy sheets that smelt like Dex. Why did you feel this way? Why didn’t you feel more conflicted?
“_____,” Dex cooed, sitting on the bed. While he sat near, he didn’t touch you. His fingers laid beside your exposed back, inches away from touching it. You knew his fingers were itching to touch you.
“Will you let me take care of you?” He asked, a nerve to his voice. “I have a bath running for you. Let me help you, angel?”
Lifting your head up, you could barely move. As you tried to turn, Dex placed a hand on your shoulder. His touch made you put a hand on top of his, squeezing it as affirmation. He immediately squeezed it back.
Softly after, Dex stood up and picked you up bridal style. He carried you to the bathroom, showing you the bath he had started. Placing you in the tub, Dex began to wash you. He used a cup to wet your body and hair, following with a sponge of your favorite scent. The bubble bath and shampoo he had been using were some of your favorite products. As he washed your hair, you looked down at your chest and arms, seeing the lovebites pecked across your skin. Dex had left fainter bites on your neck, but had completely wrecked your chest and lower areas with dark bites.
When he saw you look at them, he would kiss your cheek. You’d turn and kiss his lips, engulfing him. Occasionally, he’d get distracted from cleaning you, but would always resume emulating your routine to a tee.
Once he finished conditioning your hair and washing your body, Dex stopped the bath. Letting it drain, he picked you up from the tub in a clean stance, wrapping you in a towel before settling you on the counter. He had made sure to put a towel down so your ass, which was bruised, wouldn’t hurt.
“How do you feel?”
You broke the comfortable silence as he rubbed your hair dry. Once he had finished, he had neatly folded the towel beside you.
“Fantastic,” He had remarked, “You?”
“Same,” You nodded, looking at him with a smile. He had looked back and smiled, and you looked forward, feeling your cheeks go red.
You didn't know why you had said that, even though you had felt it. What was fucking wrong with you? You wanted to feel shame, but you couldn’t grasp the idea of it.
Next to you, Dex had neatly laid out your pajamas, lotion, and hair products. He rubbed you up and down with your favorite lotion, which matched your bodywash. Then, he moved onto doing your hair routine, and had perfected it miraculously. As he pampered you, the thought came to you; Dex, in his strange way, was a better boyfriend than Jaxson had ever been. You had only known Dex for four months, but in those months, he actually had taken time to get to learn about you before and after. You respected the attention of detail he had paid to you, from your routines to rituals and more. Jaxson didn’t even know what your favorite perfume was, but Dex knew about your extensive collection and had perfectly emulated it to give you a piece of home.
You knew the situation you were in and were fully aware of it. But yet, a part of you had softened for Dex. In the last couple of weeks, you had begun to live in the delusion he had created in his age of house. A part of you knew it was a game, but a part of you also played into the game. The morning kisses, the handholding, the terms of endearment–oyu had become a part of the issue. Dex had probably been convinced you had “come to realize”. While you stayed in reality, there was a small yet strong part of you that leaned into the game you had been playing.
But maybe it wasn’t a game anymore.
Once Dex finished brushing your hair, he dressed you in your pajamas. They had been the white one with little blue hearts on them. As he dressed you, it made you chuckle.
“Do you remember these?”
Dex scoffed at you, putting your top on. He stood back to look at you up and down, wet hair and strong lotion and all. He got to see the body he had claimed as his; full of his cum and decorated in lovebites and bruises to stake his claim. You saw a smirk grow over his face.
Your pajama strap fell to the side and with the flex of a finger, he pushed it up. His finger trailed to your lower lip, gently pulling on it.
“How could I forget?”
He had come by to kiss you on the lips before picking you up and taking you back to the bed. Placing you with leveled pillows, he threw the blanket over you as you looked up at him, standing above you fully nude.
“You smell nice,” Dex had commented.
“Thanks, wonder who helped,” You whipped back.
“I can’t put my finger on it,” He had a challenge.
As you chuckled, you moved, wanting him to come in.
“I gotta shower, baby,” He reassured, “I’ll be back. Rest up, m’kay?”
With a hum, you adjusted to be more warm under the sheets.
“You’ll come back?”
Dex looked down and raised his eyebrows at the question.
“Of course. I’ll always find a way to you, ___. You know that.”
With a yawn, you quickly nodded, pulling the covers up your face.
“That I do.”
You heard Dex walk away as your eyes began to flutter. As you fought to stay awake, the bed felt like it was taking you in. Feeling freshly clean, yet sore, you began to let sleep take over your body.
Waking up, you hadn’t even known how long you’d been asleep. The faint light of Dex’s nightlamp casted the room in a warm yellow light. Slowly waking up, disoriented with sleep, you felt an arm around you. You recognized the smell of Dex’s bodywash, feeling his chest move up and down on the side of your cheek. When he had come back from his shower, you knew Dex had probably adjusted you to lay right in his chest. Your hand had been laying on his chest, holding his hand. Your thumb caressed his, and it caressed yours right back. You smiled in his chest at the motion.
Knowing he was awake, you moved your head up to find his face. Even in the darkness, you found it. You placed a kiss on his cheek, feeling the jagged skin of his cheek scar. You heard Dex hum as he shifted, wrapping an arm to bring you closer. Even while you winced at the soreness, you began to kiss his cheek further, feeling him melt back.
“Turn to your side,” You whispered.
“You shouldn’t move, you need to rest-”
“Turn-”
Without hesitation, you crawled off of him and Dex turned to his side. Seeing his back, you had been greeted with the long, thick, and jagged scape that went all the way down his back. Your hand inched towards the scar, gently touching in on top. Dex’s breath shook at the touch, but you could feel his shoulders relax. Hesitating at first, you moved closer, running your hand down the jagged line of his back. As you hand caressed the scar, you placed a gentle peck on the top of the scar. One small peck began to form in a climb down the jagged line of long kisses down his back. Dex stayed still, fully relaxing his body, making small noises of approval at the action. You took your time in taking in the scar, kissing every section of it until you reached the curve of his ass.
Returning up, Dex felt the dip in the bed and turned to face you. His features had totally softened as you looked at him, smiling with messy and drying hair. His eyes flew when he looked right at you, a soft smile forming on his face. As he moved to run his fingers through your hair, you cupped his scarred cheek. Dex longly sighed as he leaned into your palm, nuzzling into it.
“You’re a sweetheart,” Dex complimented, “C’mere. Please.”
Pulling you close to him again, Dex leaned the two of you back. You rested on his shoulder, placing a kiss on his chest. Your hand lingered on his hip, right over where he had gotten shot–for you. As you circled the small scar, Dex moved your hair back to give you a forehead kiss. As you rested your head on his shoulder, he pointed at the scar on his chest. It was the most recent one–it had been from you and a revolver your father had gifted you three years ago.
Right when you had been leaving for college and right when Dex had been recovering.
“This one, right here,” Dex stated, looking at you, before looking at the scar, “It’s my favorite.”
“It’s a reminder of a beautiful girl,” He had gone on, patting your head, “A beautiful girl who saved me.”
You had chuckled at the comment, but he was being serious.
“An angel. That’s what you are, ____. I’m so glad you came into my life.”
And it happened again.
When all had been good, something shattered in you. It had snapped you back into reality, and that had been the comment. You had been playing his game when comments like that, that normalized whatever this had been, made you stop. It made all of the ugly memories come back, making you clutch your fist.
All you managed was to hum, listening to the rapid beat of his heart in Dex’s chest. Hearing somewhat of a verbal confirmation, his heart beat immediately slowed down as his anxiety had gone down.
Sleep had been taking you over again. As you shut your eyes, laying on your captor and boyfriend without a label and monster’s chest, you let out a long sigh. And yet, you allowed him to stroke and play with your hair. A part of you felt disgusted, but a part of you had also enjoyed the attention Dex had given you, as much as you enjoyed giving attention to him.
Just as your eyes became heavy and the warmth overtook you, you felt Dex run his hands through the strands of your hair, chest gently breathing, when he had ruptured the peaceful silence between you two.
“I love you.”
You had heard the comment. It was fucking crystal clear.
And yet, you remained silent, basking in your exhaustion and conflicted feelings towards Dex.
Dex didn’t stir you, keeping his hand on top of yours, giving it a small squeeze as you drifted, warm and comfortable within his hold.
–
You wake up cold.
The noise of a door being kicked down makes you shoot up. Your hands instinctively grab for Dex, but you don’t feel the warmth of his chest. Men in black tactical gear with large guns and flashlights usher into the room, yelling and tearing the room apart. They approach you, looking like a deer in headlights, sitting in the bed. Once they had flashed a light on you, it made you squint and look down at the bed.
Dex wasn’t there.
He wasn’t in the house at all. Any trace of him was non-existent. He had left the place eerily clean. The FBI had gone through his closet, finding no trace of his weapons. Only packets and minor things remained, all neatly folded on shelves in the closet.
Upon finding you, you were rushed out of the house into an ambulance. With a blanket on you, a paramedic is asking you a list of questions, examining your body as he takes notes. When asking about the forming marks on your neck, you had made up a lie that they were from falling. While the paramedic didn’t believe it, based on his intense stare on the lovebite behind your ear, he simply nodded and jotted it down. You give one worded responses, processing the sudden change from an “I love you” to completely disappearing. You should have been happy, but something in you felt empty. Your routine had been shattered.
With the blanket wrapped around your shivering body, an FBI agent comes over with a phone. On the line is your mother. The agent looks down and smiles at you, saying you were going home.
You wanted to throw up at the thought of going home.
-
Home isn’t home anymore.
In the four months you had been gone, you had been overwhelmed with the mass of information. After your father’s death, your mother and brother moved to lower Manhattan to escape the country. Your mother had claimed that the area served as a haunting reminder, and that the noise of the city would keep her occupied. She had gone back to her maiden name, and while coddling you and showering you with attention, she hadn’t asked about the captivity and avoided the subject. It probably had been her guilt from being away that one evening, a stroke of luck.
When you had gone to your new home, you had your own room, decorated with all of the trinkets and items from your old one. You even had your old bedsheets, similar to the one in Dex’s house.
Your captivity had felt more of a home than the apartment of large glass windows and walls full of abstract art. Some things hadn’t changed; your brother was out of the house and your mother’s drinking habits had worsened.
The FBI was all over your family. For security purposes, you had undercover security guards with you at all times. Dex had disappeared into thin air that night. He’d taken little, such as his weapons and other items, along with his car; but past that, he was untraceable. Along with the intense security, your mother had changed back to her maiden name and kept a low profile. A majority of the time you spent, if it hadn’t been endearing questions for the FBI or in therapy, was with her or Jaxson.
Jaxson had been, if not, most of the same. He had been thrilled to see you, and when seeing you, he had gone over to hug you. Feeling his warmth, you closed your eyes and thought of Dex. The thought had disgusted you so much that you began to sob.
You didn’t know if Jaxson hadn’t known, or guessed, what Dex had done to you. It had been a sore subject. To get you out of the house, which you would exit to only go run and hope that Dex would run into you and sweep you off your feet, Jaxson took you on more dates. Nice ones as well, and even getting all dressed up, you didn’t feel happy. Jaxosn had been trying, and you felt awful for not being able to reciprocate your feelings back. You had thought of Dex’s promise to take you to his favorite Indian restaurant, which you had found. Jaxosn had taken you there because you asked, and there, you imagined it was Dex the whole time.
When out in public, overwhelmed by the loud spaces due to your prolonged capacity and guards surrounding you, you simply broke. You should have found a healthy habit, but no, you craved Dex. Even as you searched for updates, there was no sight of him found.
But other things had shifted. Wilson Fisk, your father’s friend and Dex’s abuser, was running for mayor. Fisk and your father had been friendly with one another, and it made you sick to know the connection. Upon your return, the Fisks had sent a bouquet of flowers, along with a note for you. Vanessa had left her contact information, saying she would love to meet and chat in “any way she could assist”. You had ignored the advances to speak, despite your mother attempting to make them happen. The two of them had gone out numerous times, and when you were at home, would be talking on the phone. She and Vanessa had been hanging out more, which made you further isolate yourself. Past running, going on dates with Jaxson, and avoiding the Fisks’s passive aggressive kindness, you looked forward to going back to school in January more than ever.
But why did he leave you? Why didn’t he bring you with him?
Your mother hosted a small Holiday party in early December. Just as you did previously, you were forced to make small talk with numerous people who'd known about the kidnapping and your father. Past the belated apologies and forced niceties, you did your best to keep to yourself. Jaxson had been there, which in a way, had been a form of its own entertainment. As you predicted, your mother had brought over the Fisks, who were trying to corner you about the kidnapping. Asking where you had been, what Dex had done to you, what you thought about the massacre, and move. Each question had an obvious sign of intention, especially with Vaneesa, as her responses felt off.
You forced a smile and said you were glad Dex was in custody. The Fisks agreed that a monster like him wouldn't ever hurt you again.
A week after the Holidays, Vanessa had been texting you. She had mentioned feeling sorry, knowing it had been a hard few months. She had offered to take you out shopping, to meals, and more. Yet, you had dodged the calls. In a way, you saw it as a means to honor Dex.
Jaxson and you ended things a week later. It had a mutual ending. There was no love and no loss; the two of you had been disconnected before your kidnapping and after. Jaxson had cried during the breakup, promising to be a friend to you, and you had stared at him, straight faced and nodded. You had thanked him for the support, but said you needed to take time to rebuild your life and self. He had respected that.
Before he had broken up with you, he had asked if Dex had touched you in any way. Confused, and hurt, you had defended yourself and asked why he’d ever ask something like. Jaxosn defended his answer, saying it was because you avoided his touch like the plague. You automatically knew what Jaxosn had meant by “touch”.
Knowing that you were never going to speak to Jaxosn again, you had told him that you did, and that it was a mutually agreed decision to do so. The tender and emotional moment turned sour as Jaxson had left your apartment, slamming the door. You had looked at your phone to see he had unfollowed you on all social media.
A week later, Jaxson had gotten back with his ex-girlfriend.
And yet, you didn’t really care.
Breaking up with Jaxosn had been the best choice. It had been a step in the right direction. You would be heading back to school in January with a final semester before you graduated. You’d get to see your friends and get back into your routine. Sure, it would be different, but once it started, you knew you’d adjust to it. You always did.
As you had gotten better, Dex remained in your mind. In those late nights in bed, you’d stay awake and look at the cycling, wondering where he was. You also pondered if he had been thinking about you. A part of you knew he had to have been. Selfishly, you wanted him to be planning to see you again and whisk you away from the world. As much as you craved normalcy, you undeniably missed Dex. His presence not only made you miss him, but it made you confront the feelings you had held for Dex.
But you had to move on with your life, he had been your past.
A few days after the major Holidays in December, you had been in the kitchen. Your mom and you had been making DIY Eggnogs. As your Aelxa played Holiday music, she had come in with a set of mail. Going through the numerous Christmas cards and bills, she pushed a box towards you. It was small and brown, neatly tapped and marked with your name, address, and what not.
Furrowing your brow, you picked up the box, looking for a sender, but found none.
“I bet it’s from Jaxson,” Your mother joked, taking a sip of her eggnog.
Looking up at her, you shrug your shoulders and shake the box. Something is obviously in there, but you can’t tell. It’s not heavy, but not light.
“Maybe he sent me back my clothes,” You commented.
Just as your mom was about to respond, her phone rang on the counter. Looking down, it had been from none other than Vaneesa. Making an excited noise, your mother picked up the phone and moved towards the bedroom to take the call.
As she turned the corner, you looked down at the package. Curious, you went to a drawer and grabbed a pair of scissors, wondering what shit Jaxson had sent you. Slicing the package open, it greeted you with dark brown wrapping paper, neatly tucked into the box. Removing it, your fingers hit the hard object. Pulling it out, it was a tape. It had read,
“LYNDHURST, 1993”
Upon realization, you felt the breath leave your lungs. It wasn’t some forgotten object or cruel joke, but a piece of Dex. It had been from his time in the home, which you remembered him talking about, but not in detail. You held it now in your hands as a cold shiver crawled up your spin.
A part of you knew he hadn’t let you go. Your gut had been right.
Holding the tape in your hand, you gently placed it down and dug further into the box. There, you found an old pair of black Sony headphones and a blue Walkman. They had belonged to Dex; a memory of his past.
Not only had the tapes confirmed he was alive, but he knew where you were, and he had not let go of you.
Feeling your palms sweat and breath quicken, it didn;t help to hear your mom boisterously laugh with Vaneesa on the phone. As you felt a panic attack come on, you instinctively grabbed the tape and Walkman, rushing to the power room. Slamming the door, you threw your back against the door, freaking out. You hadn’t been relieved, but not scared. Just as you had been moving on, slowly but surely, Dex had come back into your life.
And knowing him, he was going to find his way back to you.
Hyperventilating, you grabbed the tape and pushed it into the Walkman. Throwing the headphones on and turning the volume up to the loudest setting, you clicked play.
Static filled your ears for a moment, along with the high-pitched hiss of old magnetic tape before a voice cut through. The song softly came out, and you realized it had been a piano song. It had a slow tempo before the piano cut through, making you feel as if you were ascending.
You felt your breaths steady as your shoulders relaxed, closing your eyes as you leaned against the door frame. Taking in the song, you felt warm. The warmth was what you imagined was Dex standing behind you, holding you close, decorating you with small pecks.
You hadn’t even realised you had shed a tear at the feeling. Holding the tape close to you, it had filled you with a feeling of fear, as well as reassurance.
Dex was alive. He was within reach, albeit you did not know where. The package had not been some random gift, but a pointer to the singular, yet terrifying certainty that it wasn’t over. It had been a prolonged pause. Dex was waiting for you, just as you had been waiting for him. You hadn’t realised it until then.
And yet, the thought had soothed you.
before you write: THINK!
is it Tender?
is it Homoerotic?
is it Implicitly homosexual?
is it Noticeably repressed?
is it Kind of gay?
BIRD IN A CAGE CH.9 (SNEAK PEAK)
Pairing: Benjamin Poindexter x Female! Reader
Summary: You had been playing a game of survival in this house, and yet as the days went on, you found your moral compass being gradually eroded.
Word-Count: 1.1k
Warnings: N/A
Author’s Note: previous chapter. hello all ! first of all, so sorry for the delay. i started my internship two weeks ago and dealing with two six week summer classes all at once starts to get at you. i had the ideas flowing in my mind for this chapter but got sidetracked with life and such. i was planning on splitting this into two chapters but tbh said fuck it and said "lets put it all together because why not!". and now there will be an epilogue that should be (hopefully) out this weeknd. as always, thank you ALL for the support. it literally makes me smile to see a comment, like, reblog, or anything. for that, I wanted to give you a glimpse of what to expect next chapter. it's almost done at the moment, I just need to write 3k more and I would if I didn't have to get up at 7am lol. this is the chapter where things get spicy, sweet, emotional, and downright messy...and as always, enjoy ! ❤️
Taglist: @star-yawnznn @efiask @n0bodykn0wss @miixkl @obsessedwithfakeguys
Masterlist
“Alexa, what’s the weather?”
You and Dex sat on the couch in the living room on a humid August afternoon. It had been the dog days of summer. It has also marked three months of your captivity. While the fact haunted you, it didn’t startle you as much as it did. Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something felt off with Dex.
Dex had been his usual self, but you felt as if he had been holding back. While you write confined to the house, Dex had been out often, and for longer hours. He had taken two night trips so far, and when you asked, he told you not to worry. When he took those night trips, you only assumed the worst, but he would make sure to leave and return when you were sleeping so he could wake you. It was his way of definitely avoiding questions. Regardless, Dex treated you the same, but bit his tongue. You itched to pry, but made a note of it to stay aware. Given the time you had on your hands, you’d figure it out with due time.
You had been building a lego on the couch when Dex had seen and joined. It was an unspoken language between the two of you. Dex would simply come by you, no matter the task, and sit near you. Ideally, he’d put an arm around you or pull you into his lap, but not smother you (for the most part.
His arm hung behind your head, not touching you, but lingering. Putting down the Lego set you were building (it was the hundredth you had built), you watched the device go blue before it gave a word.
“Right now, it’s 88 degrees with high humidity. Expected scattered thunderstorms later this evening with a low of 71. Have a nice day.”
Once the light faded, you hummed and leaned back, bringing a piece to the lego. Beside you, Dex didn’t move, but you felt him shift. His fingers moved closer to graze the nape of your neck. While the touch was feather light, it commanded your entire attention.
“Maybe the rain will break the heat,” He murmured. You could smell his cedar cologne and sandalwood on him. While you enjoyed the same, iIt had the same exact scent you had gotten Jaxson for his birthday last year.
You bit your tongue, in which he noticed. Instead of looking at you, his gaze was fixed on the fireplace with his hand further sliding into your hair. It nearly made you drop the lego piece in your hand.
“Mhm,” You mumbled, “You can ask it. You know.”
Dex looked at the coffee table, right at the blue Alexa.
“I bet it knows. Those things listen to everything you say.”
With a firm grasp on your neck, Dex moved your neck towards his shoulder, making you lean against his shoulder. You didn’t protest and instead held the lego piece in your hand, fidgeting with your fingers.
“They do. And?”
Dex looked down at you with a perplexed look, confused as to why you weren’t worried.
You looked back up and shrugged at him, deciding to try another trick
“Alexa, what is your favorite cuisine?”
A few seconds passed as Alexa processed the question before answering it.
“I enjoy Indian cuisine the most.”
Humming at the response, you looked up at Dex and held your hand out the machine.
“I also enjoy Indian cuisine too, just like Alexa,” You had commented.
Dex looked down and scoffed at your joke. One simple shift had pulled you to him. You wanted to pull away, to distance yourself from his suffocating possessiveness that both felt like a blanket and cage, but that was a part of you that you craved.
Leaning over, Dex placed a kiss on your forehead and held you close, basking in the warm silence between you two. You knew not to move, but a part of you didn’t want to move. And it terrified you that you felt that way about him.
“I know a really good Indian place in the city,” He casually remarked into your hair. The pads of his fingers ghosted over the sensitive spot on your neck, making goosebumps appear on your skin, “They had the best Poori.”
“Do they know?”
“Mhm,” Dex nodded, “I wanna take you there.”
Dex didn’t flinch or blink. Rather, he just continues the slow rhythm of stroking the back of your neck. You looked up and made direct eye contact as he looked down, giving you all of his attention. He used his thumb to trace your jaw that made your heart jammer against your ribs.
“Do you now?” You mustered out, feeling something flutter instead of you at his touch.
“I do,” Dex admitted with a low libration in his voice, “And I will.”
The walls of your prison in the house were merely minor inconveniences he had already accounted for in some dark and internal ledger. Regardless, he was unsettlingly calm.
“You’d wear a pretty blue dress. You look beautiful in it,” Dex said into your hair, “Something silk.”
“Silk?” You chuckled to yourself.
“Half of your pajamas and shirts are that, sweetheart,” Dex noted, “I’d buy you something to wear. Something you’d like, of course.”
Dex’s fantasy was a dangerous delusion that made you forget the bruises he had left on your neck only months before. You knew Dex was blurring the lines and attempting to paint a picture of a normal life, knowing that something was going to break. Looking at the blue light of the Alexa on the table, you focused on the moving life and wondered if the FBI had been listening. A part of you wished they had to catch him, but also hear what he had done to you.
“Every man would look at you, but I’m the only one who gets to take you home.”
Dex’s grip tightened, pulling you closer. Turning your face towards his, his eyes darkened with a hunger that was both terrifying and intoxicating. His thumb hovered over your bottom lip, and you looked up, smiling.
"You're dreaming,” You whispered, leaning right into his thumb. But you didn’t pull away, you couldn’t.
Dex stares right back at you with his dark eyes. In those moments of silence, Dex takes you in. He's not looking at you in an obsessive or lustful way, but rather a longing manner. You feel him sigh in relief when you move an inch up, bringing your faces inches apart. Taking the hint, Dex closed the inches between you two, pressing your lips together.
i swear the final chapter is coming guys i just decided to make it so long AND i started my new job today. but trust it will be out by this week
HEAR ME OUT!
Bridgerton/Regency AU | Dex x fem!Reader where Lord Benjamin Poindexter duels every man who flirts with you and leaves a trail of dead suitors in your wake.
TW: implied stalking, suggestive sexual themes, parental verbal abuse, duels/murder, obsessive jealousy, dark romance, but daddy, I love him! vibes
Lord Benjamin Poindexter, Duke of Arrowhead, is a violent man.
And somehow, somehow, you are the problem because you like it.
You are the daughter of a viscount. Unfortunately, you are also a romantic to the point of self-destruction. You want a love match, the kind poets lose sleep over. Your father, unfortunately, wants you married to Lord Daniels, a man thirty years your senior with fine manners, excellent prospects, and the emotional texture of damp bread.
Worse, Lord Daniels looks at you as though you are already his property. Not a woman with thoughts, wants, or a heart of your own, but rather just a pretty vessel meant to warm his bed, bear his heir, and behave while doing it.
And god forbid you have hobbies! He treats your love of plants like a defect, like a girlish little habit he intends to prune out of you after the wedding.
So when you try to make your father understand that you cannot marry Lord Daniels, he does not listen. He calls you a selfish bitch.
You get into a screaming match with him after that. You tell him he is selling you off. He tells you that you are ruining your own future.
By the time you start crying, you’re running out of the house.
You are not running forever, of course. You are not foolish enough to think you could survive alone outside your father’s house, let alone in the wild.
You just need space from your family.
So you run into the woods behind the estate, skirts damp, gloves dirtied, face hot with rage, needing only to be alone for a little while.
And that is where you meet Lord Poindexter.
Every woman in Mayfair knows of him but none of them truly knows him. Your mother once said he was “a fine match, of course,” then immediately followed it with, “Though there is something rather severe about him.”
Severe is one word. Dangerous is better.
He is hunting alone when he finds you, rifle in hand, coat across his shoulders. He frightens you, a little.
But then he lowers the rifle the moment he sees your tears. “My lady.”
“Your Grace.”
His eyes move over you, like he is cataloguing every sign of distress and deciding who must be punished for it.
You should curtsy and leave. Instead, you talk.
You tell him about Lord Daniels. About your father. About marriage without love. You tell him you would rather disappear into the woods than be handed over to a man who thinks your hobby is an inconvenience.
“I think I would like to marry a man who knows the difference between a daisy and a dahlia,” you say, bitterly.
That earns you another almost-smile. “Daisies,” he says.
“What?”
“You like daisies?”
You blink, thrown by the gentle edge of the question.
“Yes,” you say. “My favourite, in fact. They are not grand, but they survive almost anywhere. People overlook them because they are common, but I think that is rather unfair.”
Dex looks at you. He looks and looks and looks.
“My lady,” he says finally, “I do not think Lord Daniels deserves you.”
Your breath catches in the cold air. “You hardly know me, Your Grace.”
His eyes do not move away from yours. “Not yet.”
Hello?????
What the hell do you mean, Lord Poindexter?
Because what is that? Who says that in the woods to a crying viscount’s daughter he has known for less than an hour? A madman, maybe. A loaded pistol in human form.
He escorts you to the threshold of your home, kisses your gloved fingers before he leaves, and you spend the whole night staring at your ceiling and thinking about him like an idiot.
The next morning, Lord Daniels is dead because he had been challenged to a duel.
Apparently, he has been shot through the heart at dawn by Lord Poindexter.
Oh, Lady Whistledown is frothing at the mouth.
The entire ton becomes rabid, because even the scribe doesn’t know why the Duke of Arrowhead challenged him to a duel. Some say Daniels owed him money. Some say Daniels insulted him at cards. Some say there was an argument over hunting rights. The men insist it must have been something respectable and masculine, because God forbid a duke shoot another lord over a girl he met weeping in the woods the day before.
But you know Dex loaded that pistol for you.
By afternoon tea, Lord Poindexter comes calling, telling your father that he would like to court his daughter.
He brought the biggest bouquet of daisies you had ever seen.
Your father grinds his teeth and hesitates, because Lord Poindexter has just killed your intended.
But also…
He is a duke.
A rich duke.
A handsome duke.
A rich, handsome duke who has come calling with flowers for your mother’s daughter, who, as your mother very gently reminds your father, has not exactly been cooperative with any of the men your father has presented to her.
So eventually, he is allowed into the drawing room.
Your father looks like he is swallowing a knife. Your mother looks like she is watching a scandal unfold in real time.
And Dex looks only at you. He gives you the daisies like the dead man between you is merely an unfortunate scheduling matter.
From there, it snowballs.
Lord Benjamin Poindexter becomes devoted to you in a way that makes every ballroom feel like a crime scene waiting to happen.
He appears at social events he would once have avoided. He stands at the edge of every room in black gloves, watching you like the rest of the ton is background noise. He asks you to dance, and people are speechless, because the Duke of Arrowhead famously does not dance at balls.
Except now he does.
With you, and only you.
He is not charming with anyone else, though. Other ladies still try to speak to him (again, handsome, rich, duke). They flutter their lashes and smile and ask about his estate, his hunting, his views on town.
He gives them nothing.
Then you walk up and mention that your new fern cutting is struggling, and suddenly this man is leaning in like you have declared war on France.
“What kind of fern?”
“Maidenhair.”
“How much light does it need?”
And you talk and talk and talk, and the other ladies stare because this is not the Duke of Arrowhead they know. This man remembers the layout of your greenhouse, even when he claims he has never been there. He remembers the variety of your roses. He knows the shade your orchids prefer.
He remembers everything.
And God help every Lord who even attempts to talk to you.
A lord compliments your figure too boldly?
Duel, shot through the head.
A viscount laughs about Lord Daniels and your “unfortunate effect on men”?
Duel, shot in the bowels and bled to death.
A gentleman grips your waist too hard at a ball, and you come crying to Dex because you feel ruined?
Duel. Shot through the liver at dawn so he feels the pain as the light drains from his eyes.
There are dead lords behind you now. Injured lords. Ruined lords. Men leaving London for their “health.” Men avoiding your side of the ballroom as though you are cursed.
And maybe you should be horrified.
But there is a terrible and satisfying feeling curling inside you every time Dex’s eyes tunnel across a room because another man has made a pathetic attempt to court you.
You feel… flattered.
Your mother is like, “He cannot continue challenging every gentleman who causes you discomfort.”
Your father is like, “He is making you impossible to marry.”
And you are like…
Is he?
Or is he making me impossible to marry to anyone but him?
Because Dex is not stupid.
He knows what this does. Every duel ties your name tighter to his. Society begins to understand your honour as his territory, your reputation as his concern.
He wants the whole ton to know that touching you, wanting you, and embarrassing you comes with consequences.
Yes, he wants you ruined if ruined means no one else can have you. And the night Dex actually ruins you, it happens at Lord Ashcombe’s ball.
Ashcombe has been secretly admiring you all season like a man too stupid to notice the bodies piling up behind him. He asks for a dance with you and says it would be rude to refuse the host.
And you know Dex is watching.
Usually, you would say no. But today, you were feeling particularly brave and you wanted to test the limits of Dex’s affections. So you say yes.
Dex becomes murderously jealous almost immediately.
Dex watches Ashcombe’s hand settle at your waist and crushes the wine glass in his hands. You smile and pretend not to hear the shatter.
The moment the dance ends, Dex pulls you out to the garden and corners you there.
The wisteria hangs heavy overhead, purple and soft and romantic in the most damning way. The music from the ballroom is muffled behind glass. Your heart is still racing from the dance, from the thrill of knowing you provoked him and he came exactly as you knew he would.
“What was that?” He demanded.
And you pout, because apparently you have lost all sense of self-preservation. “Perhaps I am tired of waiting for a proposal.”
His jaw tightens. “You think I will not ask?”
“You have not even asked my father for my hand.”
And oh.
Oh, that wounded him. “I will.”
See, you don’t understand that yet. Dex is not delaying because he doubts his love for you. He is delaying because he is who he is. Because in his head, before he asks your father and puts the ring on your finger, he must clear the field.
He must eliminate every man who wants you and every lord who thinks he still has a chance.
And yes, that is deranged, but he enjoys hunting his romantic rivals for sport. He loves the fact that he gets to prove, again and again, that wanting you is dangerous unless you are him.
But then you ask with sad lashes, “How do I know you’re not lying, Your Grace?”
And Dex goes very still.
Then he kisses you.
His hands are on you at once, crushing your silk dress, dragging you closer. He kisses you like he is furious you ever doubted him. Like your mouth is the only argument he needs.
You should stop him.
You could.
You do not.
Instead, you kiss him back and sigh a triumphant yes, knowing no other man will have you now.
Eventually his hands bunches up your skirts and rips your undergarments. You gave a breathless little panic gasp, knowing no lady should let a man touch her like this before marriage.
Dex turns you carefully, presses you forward until he bends you over the garden wall, one gloved hand braced beside yours, the other holding you at the waist like he is both keeping you steady and making a claim.
“You want to know,” he murmurs, voice rough against your ear, “what husbands and wives do?”
Your breath catches.
“I need to hear you say it, Your Grace,” he says. Dex’s mouth brushes the shell of your ear, and you know that is not your title yet. You do not have a duchy. But it is the title you will take if he marries you.
When, you remind yourself, not if.
“Y-yes, Your Grace,” you managed.
“That’s my good girl,” he breathes, gloved hand tightening at your waist.
So Dex fucks you there beneath the wisteria, with the ballroom glowing behind the windows and your fingers trembling against old stone. He takes you, letting you adjust to his size as he ruins you completely and makes you understand exactly what he means to give to you once you are his wife.
He talks to you through it in that low voice, telling you this is what he will give you on your wedding night, and every night after, telling you he would not ruin you if he did not intend to keep you, telling you no other man will ever know you like this because no other man will live long enough to try.
You hate that it works.
You hate that every possessive word goes through you like fire. You hate that you believe him most when he is like this.
And when you fall apart for him, he holds you and kisses your temple through it, ever so gentle.
He destroys your reputation with the tenderness of a man arranging flowers.
By the time it is over, your legs are unsteady, your mouth is swollen, your skirts are a scandal, and Dex is still pressed close behind you.
Then, you turn your head and see Lord Ashcombe at the edge of the path.
He looks pale and absolutely destroyed by what he has walked in on.
You glanced at Dex in a panic, but he is just casually buckling up his trousers and smiling.
That's when you realised that Dex wanted you two to get caught.
He knew Ashcombe slipped into this part of the garden to smoke, that’s why he dragged you here, of all places! This was a trap. This was the hunting for sport he loved so much.
This was Dex proving his love in the most deranged way possible: by ruining you just enough to make Ashcombe understand he had already lost.
Dex adjusts your skirts while challenging him to a duel for your honour.
By dawn, Ashcombe is dead.
Lady Whistledown is frothing at the mouth.
By noon, Dex comes calling again with more daisies.
Your mother sits down very slowly. Your father says no when Dex asks for your hand.
Dex only raised an eyebrow like it was a minor obstacle.
So he leaves and comes back with a deed. He has bought you the largest greenhouse in the country.
A scandalous duke with dead men in his wake gives you a kingdom of flowers and expects your father to keep saying no?
Please.
Your father’s protests are running thin. Your reputation is half-shredded. Your mother is exhausted. The ton already speaks of you as though you are his. Men no longer ask for your hand because they enjoy having all their organs where they are.
So finally, your father agrees.
Dex proposes in the garden with daisies everywhere, because of course he does. Because the man is unwell and romantic and terrifying and yours.
He kneels in the dirt like a duke who has never cared less about being a duke.
And you say yes with your whole stupid romantic heart.
Lady Whistledown writes of speculation like the ink has been laced with laudanum. Your mother cries. Your father looks like he’s biting through bullets. The remaining eligible men of London quietly celebrate surviving the season.
And Dex looks at you at the altar like every dead lord was simply the road he took to reach you.
You wanted a love match?
Congratulations.
You got a love match with a body count.
—
note: reminder! This is a hear me out, so no taglist. Also, eventual full fic of this, yay or nay? (Might take me a year at this point lol)
18+ cunniligus with dex where you can't push him away
fem! reader, mdni. 1.9k words. cw: cunniligus, kinda mean dex, slight overstimulation, general filth
Dex is often comparable to a smitten cat: he hates a closed door. He'll mither and pester and bother, do whatever, except wait patiently on the other side of it. He may act like he's been cruelly depraved of your attention, or shunned by you, but really you've just closed it for a moments privacy.
Sort of like right now. You had not long gotten out the shower, and rather than been seen naked and hunched over drying yourself and applying lotions, you decided to close the door to the bedroom for a quick minute. If you shut it quietly enough, Dex won't notice.
But he does.
That little click of the hinge makes his ears prickle, and in no time at all, you hear feet scuffle on the other side. A small set of knocks follow and then a light cough — like he was clearing his throat.
"I need to get my charger."
You smile to yourself. The act coming from a place of slight amusement. It was like routine with Dex, when you close the door, he'll pretend he needs something from the other side — make up some kind of ruse in order for you to open it.
Making your way to his side of the bed, you look inside his nightstand drawer for the charger that's almost always there, though it isn't. The neatly segregated contents void of the charger he claims he needs to collect. And so you adjust the towel still wrapped around you and sit yourself down at the edge of the bed. You glance to the near empty nightstand and to the door, and it's then you decide to toy with him for a moment.
"I'll pass it to you, one second," you tease. You pretend to search and tap your feet on the floor; remaining in place so as to give the illusion you were actually looking. "It's not in here."
"Well," he sighs, seemingly panicking for an excuse. "It is."
"Where is it?" you question, playfully provoking him. "I'll get it."
"Can I just come in?" he remarks, growing annoyance clear in his tone. "I'll be quick," he adds, voice far softer — like he was prompt to correct himself.
You give him a hum in response, but it doesn't have to be particularly loud for him to hear it. All he needs is the slightest possible confirmation in order to open the door. And like it was an instant invitation, he pushes it open and steps inside.
He lingers in the door frame for a moment, eyes falling from the exposed expanse of your shoulders and down to your bare legs. His gaze reluctantly pulls away for a quick moment and to the kitchen behind him, the hot pans on the stove reminding him of where his prior attention was. Though he's thankful to have been ahead with forethought, and it's when he finally hears the pans reduce to a quiet, inconsistent sizzle, he steps further into the room.
Your eyes meet his, peered up gaze following his stalk like movements as he grows closer and closer. And it's then that he halts, big broad frame pausing in front of you — intense hazel eyes cast down on you below. You were fine playing with him between a closed door, fine to tease when he didn't face you; but to have him directly ahead of you, watchful gaze locked on you, you no longer felt that same sense to toy with him like you did before.
His eyes lower and focus in on your lap for a moment. And it's then his head tilts aside, like you were supposed to know what it means.
Though you do and you give him a small nod. Again, it was all he needed.
He bends at the knee and lowers, movement slow and controlled. He's far closer to the level of your eyes, but still, it feels like he's looking down upon you. Dex places his palms on either of your thighs, hands spread wide as he guides your legs apart — separating you.
The placement of his thumbs lower on either side of your thighs, the pads itching along the inners of each with faint little circles he draws into your skin. He sits further onto the heels of his feet, and it's then he looks up at you, eyes heavy as they study the growing want in your face.
His gaze soon diverts from you, though yours remains on him — watching him intently as he dips between your thighs, face turning aside so he can press his lips to the inners of one. Breath hot as his mouth ghosts your skin. The trail of his lips rises higher and higher and in it's place, a litter of kisses are left behind.
Your head involuntarily falls back, and the rest of you then follows. You adjust and push yourself further up the bed, scooching back so as to kindly make some space for Dex between you. He moves with you, lips remaining in place at the inner of your thigh like his mouth is fused to your skin.
Getting comfortable betwixt your thighs, he rests on his elbows — face subsequently itching in closer to your cunt. He shifts his weight a moment, arms coming up from their placement at the edge of the bed to wrap around you; arms encompassing your lower hips. His fingers paw at the squish of your inner thighs, pads sort of pulsing your skin as he pries your legs further apart.
He's slow and teasing. Like he's making you wait the way you did him a few moments before. But really, he's only taunting himself.
Nuzzling inwards, he presses a kiss to crease of your inner thigh, and then another and another, though the more that follow, the closer they get to your cunt. And by the fourth, maybe fifth kiss he sears into you, his lips reach the ones of your pussy.
Your stomach shudders as a direct response to his touch and it's when you feel your back lift from the sheets, that your hands shoot down and for his hair. Bending your legs, you lift your feet and place them at the edge of the mattress. You hook them, heels digging into that rimmed cuff as an effort to fix yourself more comfortably.
He presses another kiss to you, but this time, slightly higher than the one before. His lips reach your clit and it's there he resumes a small series of faint, and just as lengthy kisses — each one making your thighs beside his head twitch from the gentle care. His tongue extends outwards and he licks a stripe from the middle of your cunt, to where his lips remain just below the mound of your clit.
And he repeats that — doing so over and over and over until all that coats your cunt is a slight sheen of his spit. Before long, those licks turn into suckles; mouth moving deliberately in one spot, focus honed in on where you're most sensitive. Your clit.
With his grip still encompassed over the uppers of your thighs, he adjusts you within his grasp — angling and tilting your hips so as to better nuzzle his face between. You too reposition; altering the placement of your legs so they can trail down the length of his back, the behinds of your thighs pressing into his shoulders, the heels of your feet hooked at his sides.
It's as if you've inadvertently entrapped him, caged him between your thighs. But he's quick to return the gesture — quick to ensure he's just as trapped as you'd involuntarily made him.
Dex's hold withdraws from your thighs and instead roams upwards, hands flat, thumbs leading the way as he runs up the sides of you, movement slow and intentional. He pauses when he reaches your tits, and it's then that he cups them; holding each nice and firm as he uses them as a way to anchor himself to you. To keep you exactly as is.
His tongue curls between your folds, the once flat muscle now pointed and deliberate as he pushes it through your pussy's lips — pressure slight, yet apparent as it divides you. While his touch is light, your body processes it as anything but, and as the tip of his tongue knocks up against your clit, you jerk against him. Hips winding and bucking a couple times against his face like you had no control over it.
Your nails rake across his scalp, fingers pushing through his hair just moments before you grab fistfuls on either side. While it was an effort of control on your side, it only encourages him, it simply eggs him on to have you respond in such a distinct and albeit, forceful way.
But there's only so much direct pleasure you can take, especially when his mouth is so concentrated on your nub of nerves. And when he begins to tweak your nipples between thumb and index, you find yourself eager to scamper from the gratification he brings you.
The height within you hasn't yet been located, but with every lick and suck and kiss he presses into your cunt, you feel yourself aimlessly creeping closer and closer towards it. Though it begins to teeter into too much and your hips shudder against his tongue as a means to escape from the bottomless pit of pleasure.
He doesn't let you far, not when his grip tightens around you.
"No," he murmurs into you, the word muffled yet firm — voice reverberating against your cunt. "Stay."
But as much as you try, you just can't. You react instinctively, body responding through lack of self-control, and it's in the following moment where you feel yourself reach that edge.
You feel it harsh and fast.
Your back curves from the sheets as you cry out, panting out nonsensically as he continues to tongue fuck you through it.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you choke out, voice strained. Desperate.
If you thought it felt too much before, you were surely mistaken; just blatantly erroneous. You make attempts to rid him from you — weakened hands pushing at his head, though it's no use, not when he further secures his grasp around you.
"Keep still."
"Fuck," you whine. It's just shy of a mewl.
But when you really, seriously, genuinely try to flee, he lets up. He releases your shaking shuddering body and slowly stands, emerging from between your thighs.
Dex leans over you, hands either side of you for support as he lowers atop, face itching in for yours.
"Dinner's in fifteen," he hums against your lips, the taste of you on his tongue slight.
Even with his mouth ghosting yours, he neglects to press a kiss. Instead he pushes himself away from your bare body below and stands over you. His eyes trail over you a moment before he covers you with the towel that had fallen open from those ten-some minutes of tongue fucking.
His absence grows larger, and as he heads for the door, he pauses — turning slightly to look back at you. Features stern, sort of like a warning.
He taps at the door, head tilting so as to firm his expression.
"This stays open."
⎯ ☆ ⎯
I had this vision right, and it was POISONING my mind!!!!! so had to get it out
BIRD IN A CAGE (MASTERLIST)
𓅪𓇢𓆸ོ⋆˖⁺‧₊ ₊‧⁺˖⋆ོ𓆸𓇢𓅪
SUMMARY: You're the daughter of a Senator who happens to be on Dex's hit list due to his involvement with Fisk's release. Unintentionally, you inadvertently become a part of Dex’s plan to assassinate The Senator and his new North Star. PAIRING: Benjamin Poindexter x Female ! Reader STATUS: In Progress | 10/11 Chapters LAST UPDATED: 25. June 2026
CONTENT/WARNINGS: Age Difference, Stalking, Obsessive Behaviour, Talks of Dex inflicting violence upon people, Family Abuse, Bruising, Violence, Death, Aggression, Obsessive Behaviour, Stalking Mentions of Violence and Death, Graphic Depictions of Wounds, Masturbation, Dex being a creeper™, Dex masturbating to you with a wall separating you because he's a FREAK, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Stalking, Smut, Benjamin Poindexter, Extremely Unhealthy Relationship, Extremely Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Extremely Unhealthy Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Discussion/Mention of Death, Moral Ambiguity, Smut, Unhealthy Mutual Codependency, Trauma TAGLIST: @star-yawnznn @efiask @n0bodykn0wss @miixkl @obsessedwithfakeguys PLAYLIST & AO3 CHAPTERS:
Chapter 1 | The Star Chapter 2 | The Taking Chapter 3 | The Bird Chapter 4 | The Routine Chapter 5 | The Escape Chapter 6 | The Breaking Point Dex's Interlude Chapter 7 | The Things We Carry Chapter 8 | The Prisoner Chapter 9 | The Dog Days Reader's Epilouge
*gently takes your face in my hands* hey. remember that fandom is for fun. if you're not having fun it is ok to step back. if you're intentionally making it unfun for others it is ok to step back. none of this is real. go sit in the sun and smell a flower. i love you.
This is how I’m sitting in the sun, but yes, taking a step back shouldn’t be shamed, breaks are healthy, and helpful for your mental and physical health.
Don’t ruin fandoms by being hateful and toxic, it’s already hard on here sometimes and people come here to escape for fuck sake. Let’s not ruin peaceful spaces with stupid shit.
I think I am officially Fandom Old. I am so worn out from the arguments on who's the top or the bottom (who cares), what is allowed to be written (anything you want, bejeebus), what is Problematic (I know, just tag it), what other people Should Do (they Should live their lives free of judgment). There isn't a Right Way to do things. Tag your stuff appropriately, don't read stuff you don't want to read, and leave other people (me) alone.
There is nothing quite like the freedom of having gone through all of the Discourse and come out the other side into the promised land of Not Giving A Fuck.
The three keys to the promised land are “Block, Unfollow, and Do Not Engage”
How it feels to have curated your space in fandom
Me leaving Kudos on Yuri/Yaoi fiction be like:
BIRD IN A CAGE (CH.8)
Pairing: Benjamin Poindexter x Female! Reader
Summary: Dex held on as if he were afraid you were going to fly away.
Word-Count: 5.2k
Warnings: Smut, Unhealthy Mutual Codependency, Trauma, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Crying! Dex, 0.5 Seconds of Sub! Dex, Brief Mention of Death
Author’s Note: previous chapter. promise i making a master list...if you wanna get the vibe of this chapter, listen to "prisoner" by the weeknd and lana del rey. title and content inspired by both ! only two real chapters + epilouge left omg. i start my big girl job next week (eekk) so I will try to get them all out asap. I'm traveling back to mine wednesday so I'd say expect ch.9 by friday, this story should be wrapped up within the next week. but who knows? I may get a spark on creativity. as always, tysm for the support and enjoy !
Taglist: @star-yawnznn @efiask @n0bodykn0wss @miixkl @obsessedwithfakeguys
Things between you and Dex become intimate.
A quiet peace had come between you. Both of you had acknowledged a shift had taken place, leaving room for a soft yet electric tension between. You had found yourself seeking Dex and calling him a comfort for you. And in that light, Dex searched for you, and you sought him out. The soft touches that would graze your lower back, his lips pressed on the sweet spot on your neck in the morning, and the small terms of enderamrnet–he felt like your boyfriend.
However, the guilt was eating you alive. A part of you knew this was wrong, yet, it was impossible to stop it. It was a battle between your mind and heart.
But it was the times where Dex still treated you like a prisoner that grounded you in reality. He mentioned to you a couple of evenings ago that on one of his outings, he saw that someone anonymously tipped the FBI on a lead. Someone had stopped a “woman that strongly resembled you” in town. With this, Dex automatically banned you from leaving the house for your own “safety”; and out of his own selfishness to hide you for the world. You could see Dex’s anxiety from his planning for a worst case scenario and his inability to leave you alone. Slowly, you saw the cracks began to form.
Dex was your captor, an undeniable fact. But your captor was needy and touch-starved. Not to mention, emotionally-dependent on you.
He made it, especially in the bedroom. Dex was unusually soft with you in the bedroom. However, every time you had sex, you could sense a darkness he was hiding from you. You didn’t know why, but it attracted you to him, like a moth to a flame. He had kept asking if he was hurting you and even admitted that he was terrified of hurting you. You always reassured him he hadn’t, which would drive him crazy. Even the slightest of touches would make Dex shake with pleasure. Dex would not only make sure you were pleased, but he would take the best care of you before, during, and after the act. He’d decorate you with kisses down your body, compliments about your beauty, and touch you like a hungry, yet passionate man.
You hated to admit it, but it was some of the best sex you had ever had.
The last time the two of you had sex, it was on the couch a couple of days ago. While he had always initiated it, you never resisted him. After you both had gone down on one another, Dex had fucked you from behind as he pushed you against the back of the couch. While he took you in softly and slowly, you had begged (embarrased of it after) to fuck you harder. Dex gripped the flush of your ass and picked up the speed, fucking you mercilessly for two minutes before finishing all over your back. He had grasped so tightly onto your thighs that he left purple marks on both of them.
An hour later, you had walked into the bathroom to see him leaning against the edge of the sink, crying.
You had approached him, coming from behind to hug him and kiss his shoulder, asking him why.
“I hurt you,” Dex whispered, unable to look at you, “I’m so sorry, baby.”
He was a man who could kill anybody with any object, however, you brought him to his knees at the mercy of your approval.
Wrapping your hands around him, you hugged Dex from behind and placed soft kisses on his shoulder. You could hear his lips quivering and heart beating. When you pulled him tight, his heart beat began to stabilize.
“You didn’t hurt me,” You honestly admitted.
Letting go, you pushed yourself up to sit on the edge of the bathroom counter. You pulled up the shorts you wear to show off the bruises on the side of your thighs; a developing purple. They were going to darken. You took Dex’s hand and placed it on your thigh, right above the bruises.
“Look at me,” You cupped his cheek, bringing his face to yours. It was red with his eyes stained with tears. Dex tried to regain control, but he miserably failed. You softly sighed, using your thumb to wipe a falling tear. Dex immediately sunk into your touch.
“You just gave me a love mark,” You reassured as your thumb stroked his cheek. As much as the word came out naturally, and it made you wanna throw up, it also made you somewhat wet. It was a horrible conflict of emotions as you felt it hard and heavy, all at once.
“I like when you do that.”
“You like me hurting you?”
“No,” You shook your head and leaned over to whisper right into Dex’s ear, “I like it when you do that”. You grabbed his index finger and drew it across your blooming bruise.
“I like it when you mark me.”
Once you placed a kiss on the top of his ear and lightly bit it, Dex began to kiss your cheek. He moved to your lips, and you fell right into it. He proceeded to eat you out against the kitchen sink, making you finish for a third time that evening, before fucking you against the bathroom counter. He had kept his hands over your bruised thighs as he went into you, but made sure not to bruise you. You had been so sore that Dex made it his personal duty to wash you and carry you to bed that evening.
You had seen Dex’s dependence on you before, but ever since the two of you had sex, it became more apparent. Dex became physically calmer with you around, whether he’d be asking to lay his head in your lap as you read to him or asking for you to sit next to him just because he wanted to be near you. Dex melted at your sheer presence. You leaned into the reassurance and intimacy he craved, watching the predator in him dissolve into a desperate and clingy child. You offered the affection he was starved from, and in return, you gained subtle control over the man who held you captive. Yes, you were still Dex’s prisoner, but Dex was a prisoner of his own emotional shitstorm.
Quickly, you realized his neediness and dependence on you was a lever you could pull.
In addition to being entirely dependent on your mood, Dex was a control freak. His routines were how he kept his emotions regulated and stabilized. Even the slightest differentiation in routine made him crack, albeit slightly. With the FBI seemingly closing in, he made sure to hide you further from the world. Even the slightest change with you would cause him to panic–which is something you saw rather quickly.
One night after dinner, the two of you were in bed. You had been watching some film, and Dex had thrown his arm to bring you close. You decided to test your theory. As rested your head on his shoulder, you stiffened your neck, which he immediately noticed in his constant glances over. At one point, you had moved just an inch over on the bed when he had paused the movie and asked if you were mad at him. When you immediately said no and said you were stretching, he sighed in relief and kissed you on the forehead.
Another day, you had been on the couch, trying to read on your Kindle. Dex had come out of the shower and invited himself over to sit with you. As he attempted to rest his head in your lap, you pressed your knees up. He had clocked the coldness immediately and shook his head, saying he shouldn’t bother you. Not even five minutes later, he had returned and sat right next to you, looking panicked until you said you weren’t mad, but you just wanted to read. Alone. While he didn’t like the answer, he became calmer at hearing your words reassure him.
Those had been tests, and they were successful.
But the one time you were acting, it had tested not just Dex, but you.
You had complicated feelings towards Dex. Yes, you did hate him–but god, sometimes he did things that made you question him. Dex took incredible care of you in all fields. He gave you whatever you desired and wanted. He’d do anything for you, even if you hadn't asked. Just a few mornings ago, you had complained of your slippers becoming old. Dex had gone out and bought you three different pairs to make sure you liked a certain one. He even had put them on you, kissing your knee when doing so.
And the sex? It was intoxicating. You admittedly loved the attention he had given you; the affection, the gifts, and all. You loved when he listened to everything you said, devoted to every word you said. You loved when you could feel him against your back in the morning, holding your hand as you woke up. You loved that he took care of you, but you hated him for the monster he was. He did things that reminded you that he was very much you were his captor, and that you were his prisoner.
“You have got to be in the house,” Dex declared, coming into the house as he slammed the door, “No going outside.”
“There are unmarked cars all up the road and in town,” He began to explain, leaning against the kitchen counter as he looked outside, “It isn’t safe for you, ___. It’s for your own good. No town. No running. No porch. Nothing.”
As you opened your mouth to protest, Dex had shut it down.
“And what about you? Huh?”
“I’m also keeping a low profile. I will go only into town when needed,” He shut down the conversation, “I need to protect you.”
But no, you weren’t gonna let him win.
“You don’t think I can hold my own?” You were accused.
Dex turned over and came to your side to explain. You had put your Kindle down and looked away, crossing your arms and turning your body over. As Dex mumbled, finding his words, saying you could with some bullshit excuse of how it was his duty to protect you, you scoffed and turned to look at him with a disapproving face.
“Remember who shot you? When you, hmmm,” You intentionally froze on the word until you raised your eyebrows, “Oh right, when you came into my house, massacred the people inside, and took me. How could I forget?”
Dex sunk at the words, unable to speak. You didn’t stop on your tirade of words towards your captor.
“Scared they are gonna find you?” You had remarked out of annoyance and anger.
Dex froze at the comment. You saw his eyes darken.
“No,” He couldn’t look at you as he said, “I don’t care what they do to me. You? That’s what I care about.”
“They’d take me home,” You casually remarked as you grabbed your Kindle to go up to the bedroom.
Seeing this, Dex walked to the stairs and blocked them. As you tried to go push through him, he blocked you.
“This is your home. I’m your home.”
You tried to push by him again, angered at his words.
“No, you aren’t. Let me go through-”
“Stop fighting, ___.”
Once you stopped fighting, you dropped your hands from his chest, looking up at him coldly.
“You aren’t my home,” You said low and steady, “Look at you. You can’t let anyone have me so you hold me for yourself like a toy.”
Your very words had caused Dex to flinch. As his jaw slackened and his eyes looked wounded, he lowered his arms. You immediately pushed past Dex to head upstairs. You felt him turn to reach for you, in which you responded back with a cold silent stare. Dex immediately put his hand down, letting you walk up the stairs.
As you got to the top, you stopped and deliberately did not look back. You thought of something to say, but opted to keep to yourself. You knew Dex would stand there, and for a long time, stewing in his self-pity and guilt at the silence you starkly enforced.
You locked yourself in the bedroom you shared with him (you occasionally said “ours). Once locked, you sat against the door. You don’t know why the face of your father came to mind; it had been complicated in the last few years, from his affairs to morally questionable choices, but he was your father, and here you had been. You felt disgusting, knowing you could stop, but you lunged yourself at Dex as a form of comfort. You poked at the bear for entertainment and the thought of it made you sick. Biting your wrist against the door, you hold back tears. You felt fucking sick.
Dex had come hours later and had knocked lightly, but you didn’t respond. He didn’t dare enter.
The next morning, you awoke to a cold and empty bed. You were greeted with the smell of detergent on the sheets. No kisses on your neck, no hands around your waist, nothing. You looked at the nightstand and saw no cup of coffee.
Carefully unlocking the bedroom door, you walked downstairs. No sight of Dex. You assumed he had slept on the couch since the pillows looked perfectly straight. Looking both ways, you made your way down the stairs to make yourself coffee. As you began to brew the coffee, you heard some footsteps and clutter in the distance, but resumed with your routine, even with your heat beating in your chest.
Once the coffee machine stopped brewing, you hear the front door slam. Seconds later, gravel moves as a car exits the driveway. You walked to the door, seeing no car in the sight, and therefore no sign of Dex.
A part of you feels relieved, another part of you feels sad. You leaned against the cool glass of the window, letting the dust style.
That was what the next week of interaction looked like between you two.
You avoided Dex as much as physically possible. You felt like a petulant child, giving him the silent treatment, but you felt as if you had justified reasons. If he saw you, even for a split second going up the stairs or in the living room, he’d just look at you. He’d look like you had just shot him. Most times, you chose it was best to ignore him and go to another room. Other times, you looked at him, giving a disapproving look and getting up to escape his presence. The two of you lived in absolute silence.
Dex, of course, tried to speak to you. He had still made meals, and you’d come if you had felt. If he saw you come in, he’d get excited and do everything to get you to speak. He’d pull out your chair, make all of your favorite mela,s and try to spark up conversation. You could feel his anxiety from across the table with his nervous fidgeting and forced smile.
“Do you like the food?”
“How is the book you're reading? You seem into it.”
“You know, I saw this sewing kit. I got it for you. I wanna watch you do it.”
“Are you mad at me?”
The question made you drop your fork and place your face into your hands, loudly groaning.
“You make me feel so confused,” You admitted as you leaned on the table, voice full of anger and defeat.
“One minute, you’re smothering me. Acting like your boyfriend. You want this domestic life. Then, the next minute, you're locking me away from the world. You’re a monster who took me away from my life, and then you cry when you bruise me. Which one is it, Dex? What am I to you? Your prisoner? Your toy? Something to take your anger out when you're all frustrated?”
Dex didn’t flinch this time. As he took in the words, his face went pale.
“Don’t say that.”
You looked at him, titling your head.
“What?”
“You’re not a toy,” Dex gripped the edge of the table, “Never were. You’re more than that.”
Dex stood up fast, causing you to as well. As you made your way up the stairs, Dex followed. The two of you ended up in the bedroom as Dex came behind you. He didn’t dare move closer as you edged towards the best, getting closer to him.
“Please, ___.”
You awaited his response, seeing the fight go out of his eyes. Dex looked scared. He was scared.
“You hate me,” He confessed, “And I hate that you hate me.”
“I hurt you when I met you. I didn’t mean to. You were so good to everyone around you. Despite him being your Dad-” Dex caught himself, clenching his fits, “-I didn’t wanna let you be there. Get corrupted. Let people hurt you. I took you because I care about you.”
“Why?” Your words landed like a thud, “You think this is saving?”
“It sounds wrong, but it’s not,” Dex admitted, his eyes on the carpet, “ButI don’t know how to live without you with me. I never wanted to hurt you, I just wanted you to be safe. I understand you. You understand me.”
So, you decided to walk the final few steps and sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at him as his eyes stayed on the carpet.
“Understand what, Dex? Tell me everything. Tell me why me,” You silently commanded.
Dex moved towards you slowly, getting onto his knees. He kept an inch between you, but his forehead rested against your knees. You allowed it.
“Dex,” You softly said. When he looked up, you softened your features. Slowly, you reached your palm out. Dex immediately put the side of his cheek in there, soaking in your touch.
Dex took in a shaky inhale before exhaling, right before his explanation. He began to talk about the years of isolation he faced, from his childhood to time in the military to the FBI. He spoke of the silence that lived in his chest until he saw you, that one spring morning, that gave him a reason. Dex further unraveled about his childhood and the pain that came with him. He said people like you, minus his routines, were his regulation. He repeated Julie’s name, but not her, but the idea of letting someone get hurt because of him. Dex’s need for you–the only person he had confessed he had ever felt attraction to-had driven you to kidnap him. He had seen your father, and had seen his evil, and had seen your goodness. He had convinced himself he was the only one who could keep you safe, and the only way to keep you safe was to lock you away from the world. Dex had confessed to his past of being a monster, but wasn’t ashamed of it. The only thing he was ashamed of was hurting you. You were the first person that Dex had ever felt an emotional connection too.
Not Julie, not Dr.Mercer, you.
“You listen to me,” Dex acknowledged, leaning into your palm as his lips brushed against your fingers. “You see me. You're my good deed.”
“When she died, it was because I hesitated. Because I didn’t act. I watched a good person die because of me. I would never let that happen to you.”
Dex finally looked at you, his eyes becoming glassy. As you sat, you listened and felt your heat go heavy. You didn’t want to sympathize, but you were trapped under the haze of his words.
“You’re too good to get caught up with people who wanna use you. You're my good deed, ___. If I can protect you, I’ve done something. I’m terrified you think I’m a monster and you’ll leave. I don’t want you to go, please. Stay with me, sweetheart.”
Dex’s lips moved to kiss the palm of your hand. As you sat, you breathed heavily, matching his. He looked at you, eagerly awaiting an answer. You leaned down to look at Dex, hand cupping his face, seeing him look up with you with awe, hanging off of your lips opening.
“You think you’ve caged me?” You held onto him, letting him hold onto you. You stroked his hair back, “Look at me, Dex.”
As his eyes rose to yours, wet but with a flicker of hope, you moved towards him–not to speak, but place a kiss on his forehead. You kissed down his nose and met up with his lips at once. Dex kissed you back quickly, and frantically. You titled your head down, pulling him towards you. Dex eventually calmed down when you stood up and moved him to the edge of the bed. He pulled you into a hug and began to kiss the top of your head.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” Dex pleaded into your hair, “Please, I-”
You reassured him by saying his anime, causing him to stop. Stroking his hair back, you gently pushed him back on the bed. Dex laid as you laid right next to him, tracing your hands across his face. Your fingers grazed the scar on his cheek, and you leaned down, placing soft kisses to it. You heard Dex’s breath hitch as he grabbed the small of your waist, bringing you close. You hummed as you placed your hand on his chest, running it down to the waistband of his pants. Your hand strayed far, hovering over his bulge.
When you looked up, moving your hand, you looked back at Dex. His eyes, while sad, looked hungry. He'd been away from you for days, and seeing you curled next to him, kissing and reassuring him drove him nuts. As you both breathed, you looked at his bulge before looking at him. Dex had never nodded quicker.
So for once, instead of Dex initiating, you had.
Your mind, for once during the act, remained quiet. Instead, you focused on the man in front of you. Dex had taken off his shirt and belt, where you began to make work. You pressed kisses to his neck, hearing his soft moans. As you decorated kisses down his body, you made sure to kiss each scar you saw. You made sure to spend time on the scar on his shoulder, sucking gently on it. Dex let out a soft sigh as he petted your hair, back slightly arching.
Eventually, you made it down to his waistband. Unzipping his pants, you pulled them down. Quickly pulling down his boxers, his throbbing dick stuck out. It had been going up, and when you looked right at Dex, flushed and emotional, it hardened. You looked up and down his dick, spitting into your hand as your hand scraped the base. It was enough for him to throw his head back. Putting your hand around the base, you begin to slowly move it up and down.
Dex hummed in pleasure as your thumb circled the head. Dex looked at you with such raw vulnerability that made your chest tighten. As his hands gripped the duvet, you put your throat over his base, all while sliding your hand up and down. His hips moved up, finding a sweet spot to add from friction. As you slowly increased the pace, your eyes never left his as he began to lowly whimper.
“Baby,” Dex hitched as his horse voice cracked. You moved up and sucked hard at the tip of his head. Dex grabbed the back of your hair, pulling you up. You had let out an embarrassing noise as he made you look at him, saliva spilling from your lips. You rested your hand on his chest and he put his hand over yours, gripping your hand tight. Dex quickly kissed you before pressing your head back down on his cock. You made quick work, going at a faster up and down movement. Dex neared his limit as his body went rigid, squeezing your hand on his chest. Before he finished, you pulled away with a deliberate and wet pop. Dex kept his eyes on you, letting out a strangled groan. His eyes were hazy with desperation and need.
Moving quickly, you straddled him, knees pinning his arms loosely. You reached to the nightstand and pulled out a condom, holding the wrapper tear to Dex’s lips. You didn;t have to do anything as Dex ripped the cover off and you put the condom on his cock, quickly running your hand over it. You looked at the mass of the man in front you; scared, toned, and handsome. He breathed heavily, eyes begging for you to go in.
You sat up further as you teased Dex against your entrance with the friction making him moan.
“So wet,” He hummed in pleasure, “All for me?”
You nodded eagerly, lost in a haze. As you slowly sank down, taking it at once, you let out a moan of pain and pleasure. Dex let out a jagged noise. You leaned forward and placed your hands on his shoulders, moving slowly. You made sure to go slow and deep to both torture and please him. Dex threw his head back into the pillows as you bounced slowly, but strategically. Dex hands sucked into your waist, fingers dipping into your hips with not the bruising force before, but a trembling desperation. Dex held on as if he were afraid you were going to fly away.
“Look at me,” You cooed in his ear as you leaned up. Dex darted his eyes to yours, devoted to you. In a sudden movement, your fingers wrapped around Dex’s neck. You lightly squeezed, causing him to grind under you as he pushed into you deeply. It earned a loud moan from you, with you quickly picking up the pace, the sound of skin hitting skin aligned with your uneven breaths. Eventually, you reached your own peak and leaned down to catch his lips. The two of you kissed messily as Dex wrapped his hands in your hair, pushing your head down to his as he bit your lower lip. His hand squeezed your ass as you finished on his cock. You slowly stopped, but no, Dex did not. Dex kept moving his dick upwards, feeling the slush of your wetness squish around his legs.
Your body, from your emotional and physical exhaustion, was going limp. As your body slumped, your head fell into the crook of Dex’s shoulder, taking in the scent of his cologne and sweat. Feeling Dex’s thick dick push in and out of you, you felt that familiar large hand grab the end of your hair and curl it around his fingers. He used gentle force to pull your head back to look at him as he continued to push his whole length in, and out, of your soaking pussy.
“There now,” He muttered, voice smooth and commanding. It had been a change from the once needy and pathetic voice from early, “You see, sweetheart?”
Dex pulled your head back, causing your back to arch. As he laid under you, he thrusted his hips forward. He had his way with you, eyes dark, harshly pulling out before pushing himself back in one full movement. You whined at the movement, becoming news. He had been your prisoner, all but for a brief moment. Now, you were his prisoner.
“I’m the only one who gets to handle you like this.”
A pathetic whimper escaped your lips. As Dex grabbed your shoulders and slammed you down, his hand grasped on your shoulder. His fingers were dangerously close to your throat.
“Only one who gets to see you like this,” His voice was hoarse and pointed, “Only one who gets to see your beautiful body like this.”
With his brute force, Dex lifted you up, his dick temporarily leaving you. As your breath hitched, Dex looked up at you and grinned to himself, before slamming you right down into his throbbing member. When you had gone down, Dex let out a hearty grunt. He fucked you fast, thrashing you down into his cock, a sudden change from minutes ago. But not that you minded at all.
In a haze, you put your hand above his. You guided his hands and wrapped his digits, gently, around your throat. Dex, even in his frenzy, softened at it. As he fucked you, eh had slowed down the pace as his fingers hesitantly wrapped around your neck. A small mewl escaped your lips as you hand hovered above his very hand resting around your neck. You began to nod, telling him it had been okay.
“Sqeeuze, please-”
Dex gave a light squeeze to your throat, causing you to whine.
It lit him on fire.
As Dex gave his all to you, he held on your throat lightly, pushing into you with the rigor of a starved man.
“Say it,” Dex commanded in a lustful haze, “You’re mine.”
When you let out a croak, Dex squeezed a little further. You shook as you felt him hold you down on his dick, vibrating instead of you.
“___. Say it.”
You nodded, cockdrunk and pathetic.
“Yours. Yours,” You let out a whiny noise, “All yours. I-”
“Baby, I’m gonna finish-”
The shift of him finishing was visceral in you. He moved his hand from your throat to your shoulders, holding you down as he finished entirely in you. As he got every drop of his cum within the condom, Dex let out a long sigh. He gently brought you down next to him, collapsing into the pillows. Dex began to press feverish and apologetic kisses to your shoulder, throat, and jaw. In that silence, and in that brief moment he held power, he had quickly lost it. He laid his head in your chest.
In your own world, you panted. You saw him rest his head on your chest. It had been almost like your body had been programmed to reach out to sweat-stricken hair and push it back. Dex hummed positively at the movement as he wrapped his muscular hands around your body. The two of you fell asleep like that.
The next morning, you're the first to wake. You wake up, holding his head as he sleeps in your chest. Fluttering your eyes open, your hand instinctively runs over his head to push his hair back.
As your body aches, you quietly grunt and push his head to the side of the pillow. Just as you get up and place your feet on the ground, you feel a hand grasp at your waist.
You don’t look down, knowing who it is.
“Where are you going?” He mumbled, half-asleep. His hand squeezes at your waist.
Sitting at the edge of the bed, feeling an ache in your lower stomach, you struggle to find your words. You're processing the events of last night as it hits you all.
“Coffee,” You mumbled back, “For us. I was gonna make you a cup.”
“No,” Dex responds and pulls you back to lay to him. As you scoff, you don’t stop him. Dex notices the goosebumps on your skin and grabs the edge of the blanket, throwing it over you two. You make a noise of protest.
“Five minutes,” Dex places both of your heads on a pillow, burying his face into his hair. You can hear him inhale and exhale into your hair, letting out a satisfied noise.
“Dex-”
“Five.”
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
Who Are We Haunting Tonight? - Submitted by SeesawSiya
#3f3734 #5b4454 #ac9295 #dedfe4 #bdc5d0
BIRD IN A CAGE (CH.7)
Pairing: Benjamin Poindexter x Female! Reader
Summary: The FBI, a murderous vigilante, and a dead woman walk into a bar. Somehow, you're forced to deal with all three.
Word-Count: 8.3k
Warnings: Smut, Benjamin Poindexter, Extremely Unhealthy Relationship, Extremely Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Extremely Unhealthy Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Discussion/Mention of Death, Moral Ambiguity
Author’s Note: previous chapter & interlude. you guys are getting SPOILED today. okay am i crazy for this? dating is going on on dates with someone and testing the waters. being partnered up is a committed relationship where you are not with anyone else. people say they are the same but I beg to differ. anyhoos...wow. longest chapter of the whole fic. there is a lot here so lock in...esp for the end. just to warn that this is in fact a dead dove: do not eat story with characters who align with that so yes morals are quite ambiguous here! anyways, enjoy this. thank you for the support as always love u all xx
Taglist: @star-yawnznn @efiask @n0bodykn0wss @miixkl @obsessedwithfakeguys
Dex wakes you up the next morning. He doesn’t touch you or shake you awake, but instead, stands at the edge of the bed. When you turn over and grumble, he stands up and claps his hand together.
“Good morning,” He said, trying to be casual, but you knew he was watching you sleep.
Sitting up in the bed, you bring the duvet over your cold body and look at him.
“Were you watching me sleep?” You sleepily grumbled, rubbing your eyes.
He walked over and held out your mug. Thanking him, you took it and sipped on it. Just as you liked. Every morning, without fail.
“I just walked in five minutes ago and you were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.”
You look up and put your mug down, looking at Dex with raised eyebrows.
“So you were watching me sleep,” You joked. Any normal person would feel unsettled by that, but you had become accosted to it.
“Good morning to you too.”
Dex didn’t flinch from the word “watching”. Instead, Dex watched the steam rise from your coffee, seeing the way your fingers curled around the mug as you held it and placed it down. The sight of you in your blue heart pajamas, all soft spoken and sleep muddled, was a good start to the morning for him.
“I have a surprise for you downstairs,” He said, “I hope you’ll like it.”
You grabbed the mug and took another sip. Looking over at him, something changed in your expression.
“You did that all last night?”
“Come,” He urged.
You slipped out of bed and followed him down the hallway to the stairs.
“You said the house felt empty. So, I stayed up to find some things I had,” He explained, “I thought we could start here.”
The two of you made your way down to it. You stopped at the edge of the stairs, but looked
His living room. The downstairs was no longer the unlived space it had been. Dex hadn't simply put items down, but curated. The coffee table, past a few big landscape books, had a collection of books. They were organized in color and shape, perfectly arranged by size. Across the main wall, three rectangular items were perfectly aligned; a set of old and topographical maps. One tap, in particular, was covered in faint red markings and a blacked out area in the center that looked like an art project. It caught your attention, but you’d analyze it later.
A small, dark side table by the kitchen door had a lamp, along with a book opened. You walked over and held up the book. It was “The Things They Carried” by Tim O’Brien. You remembered reading it senior year of high school. The page Dex had left it open to was a random one, but you read the quote.
“They carried the sky. The whole atmosphere, they carried it, the humidity, the monsoons, the stink of fungus and decay, all of it, they carried gravity.”
You felt Dex walk behind you, hands in pockets as he tried to hide his anxious pacing at your silence.
“Do you not like it?” He asked, “It’s okay if you don’t. I can-”
“No, Dex,” You turned and walked over, crossing your arms as you looked around the room.
“This looks very nice, thank you. You didn’t have to stay up,” You politely thanked him, “Didn’t realize you had a kick in interior design.”
“Well, you're welcome,” He responded, rubbing the back of his head.
“I don’t really. I just know how to put things in order, like curating paintings in a museum,” Dex explained, “Not in that way, but-”
“I get the picture,” You said, taking it in, “It looks really nice. Cozy.”
Dex looked at you, a soft smile forming on his face. It showed his slight wrinkles and accentuated the gray on the sides of his hair. You smiled back, making it quick.
“I do it for you,” He confessed before moving to the coffee table, “I wanted to give you something.”
Dex moved to the coffee table and picked up a sleek, black object that had been on top of the dark black and grey books.
“Since you don’t have a phone and have read all of my books,” He said, holding out a Kindle, “I figured you’d like this.”
He held it out, not quite meeting your eyes, the act of giving an awkward and foreign concept.
Stepping forward and taking the device, it was your only piece of technology in the isolated house past the TV in the living room. It was a small object of freedom, yet significant to you. It also showed the bond between you and Decx had grown stronger. Trust had become a part of the bond you two had. Slowly, Dex let you sit on the porch by himself, and even let you run, albeit short distances on trails you knew. He had taken comfort in knowing that you didn’t seemingly want to run or leave. You didn’t let him think any otherwise than this.
As you ran your thumb over the screen, you smiled at it.
“Thank you, Dex,” You replied, words practice, but the gesture hitting a strange note of domesticity, “This was, uhm, thoughtful.”
“I loaded everything you have mentioned,” He stated, “I added some classics. Some thrillers. Some stuff I have read. I added reading lists, like my old one. It might give you some ideas if you need them.”
“You read?” You asked, scrolling through the books. Like clockwork, Dex did not lie; almost every author or book you had ever mentioned, in detail or passing, had been added. In full alphabetical order.
“Sometimes,” He mentioned, “I used to read a lot in the FBI. My co-workers wife got me a kindle. They had some free thriller books and I read them at night. I read here and there.”
You hummed in response, holding the kindle to your chest. Dex looked at you, stratification in his eyes, masked by his intensity to hide his anxiety.
“I want you to be comfortable here,” He dropped the nervous edge in his voice.
It made you tighten your grip on your Kindle. The weight of his words hung in the air. You knew the comfort was fragile and curated, but looking at the device in your hand, you felt unfortunately conflicted.
“It’s a lot,” You admitted, “But thank you. For this.”
Dex wordlessly acknowledged you with a nod. He rubbed his hands together and began to walk to the kitchen.
“I need to run out. Would you like to come?”
–
Just as you had built a routine in the house, so had you during your public outings. After you two grocery shopped, Dex drove to that same old gas station.
Dex had mentioned he was going to fill the car up, and told you to go in and buy the usual of two waters and a pack of gum. “You get yourself whatever you want,” He specifically had requested a small bottle of anti-bacterial hand sanitizer and heavy duty tape, two new additions in his routine.
This time, instead of his card, he gave you two crisp twenty dollar bills. Not a single wrinkle was in them.
You neatly folded them in your pocket and made your way to the gas station. As you walked, you heard Dex call out, “If he even gives you a look-”
“Bill,” You corrected the name of the old cashier who owned the station, “Bill’s harmless.”
Rolling your eyes, you opened the door and heard the chime you knew all too well. You turned to the corner and saw Bill, reading a newspaper. He looked up and waved at you, and you waved back. He was a sweet old man, and Dex hated him for that. You had joked it was probably because another old man was staring at you, and Dex scoffed at the joke.
Grabbing the two bottles of water, a pack of gum, the single, high-fiber protein bar, and a small bottle of anti-bacterial hand sanitizer, you headed to the cashier. You told Bill you wanted to go grab some other items. He allowed you and you walked to the snack row, stacking up on whatever ten dollars would get you. As you filled your hands with your favorite snacks, you looked up at the TV. It was how you got your intake of daily news; victims reappearing after the Blip, Daredevil’s disappearance, and other things.
It was also a dull reminder of your father. Today, it haunted you particularly.
You headed back to the register with the snacks. As you put them down, Bill began to scan them. The two of you made small talk, before you looked up at the screen, feeling your heart drop at the sight.
“WANTED: BENJAMIN LEONARD POINDEXTER” was in an alarming bright red along with a white loud font with black outlined letters.
A photo of Dex appeared across the screen. He was straight faced, dressed in a suit, with the American flag in the background. Most likely from his FBI days.
“This fugitive is an extremely dangerous individual. Anyone who locates him will be awarded one million dollars. If you see him, do not engage. Do not go near him,” The robotic voice read over, “He will use excessive force without hesitation.”
As the robotic voice went on, listing the crimes he had committed, you froze. You knew of his past, but this was a slap in the face; the reminder of the monster Dex was. The man you had been living with; the one who you shot, the one who you had kissed, the one who kissed your palm in the shower, the one who choked you until you fainted, the one who slept with his back to his, the one who had a hit on your father and went through with it.
Your stomach did a slow and nauseating role as you remembered you weren’t a guest, but the property of a monster who the entire country was hunting.
“Hey honey, you okay?” Bill’s voice shattered the static in your mind.
You snapped your gaze down the counter and looked up, nodding with a smile, despite your heart hammering against your ribs like a bird in a cage. You couldn’t let Dex see you like that through the window.
“Scary news, that’s all,” You forced a brittle smile and cleared your throat.
“Damn straight,” Bill commented, “Stay safe out there.”
“You too.”
You nodded your head and grabbed the bag, walking out of the store. You carried the physical weight as you saw Dex, pulling the pump from the gas. Those words of “WANTED” echoed in your mind.
As he screwed the gas cap shut, his eyes scanned the surrounding area as the two of you got into the car.
You reached the car and wrenched open the passenger door, tossing the bag of water, gum, and snacks onto the seat. The bag landed with a soft thump, but the sound was deafening to you. WANTED: BENJAMIN LEONARD POINDEXTER. The words echoed in your mind. He was right there, a national fugitive, pulling the pump from the gas tank as casually as if he were tending a garden.
Dex screwed the gas cap back into place, his eyes scanning the surrounding parking lot before they settled on you.
You looked over as your blood ran cold, looking at the cash.
“You think I don’t know?” He paused, a slight frown crossing his face, “I know about those FBI Ads, ___. I’ve seen them.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” You lied, looking forward.
“Yeah, I have seen them. Everywhere,” He casually responded before starting the car, “I’ve seen Black SUV’s and unmarked cars everywhere.”
It explained why he was using cash, and how he looked around him now three times.
“It’s best we make sure to lay low,” Dex said as he pulled out and made a left hand turn, going back into the road of trees.
“What did you need those items for?” You broke the silence, uncomfortably shifting in the seat.
“Why do you need to know?”
“Why did you give me a kindle then?” Are you trying to build some trust with me so I don’t run again?”
Dex clenched his hand on the wheel, looking uncomfortable.
“That’s not why,” He argued, “It’s for…I just need it. It’s to keep you safe if something happens.”
“Do you think there are going too-”
“No,” He stated, “They won’t. I just wanted to be ready if they do.”
“I have to make sure you're safe. Don’t worry, sweetheart. Okay?” He said in a calm tone, treating the FBI hunting him like it was just some nosy neighbor.
“I’m sorry for being tense. I’m really sorry.” Dex admitted, trying to hold it together, “Okay?”
You looked out the window and crossed your arms, nodding. He hung on you, waiting for you to give him the verbal satisfaction he needed.
“Okay, Dex. Okay.”
You saw the tension in his shoulders drop immediately.
–
At times, Dex would touch you.
Whether it be sleeping with his back right to yours or gently touching your shoulder when walking, it would be little displays of affection. However, in each touch, Dex hesitated slightly as if he were approaching you with both care and fear. When you were annoyed with him, he’d avoid touching you like the plague, but he’d look at your worried eyebrows and sad eyes.
Dex knew he was being hunted, and he was hiding the severity of it to you.
It was those little things that woke you up from the delusion of domesticity you had created in your way, both as a means of survival and to maintain your sanity.
The two of you had gone to bed that night without speaking to each other. It had been purely by accident since you had fallen asleep with the intention of avoiding him.
When you had woken up, you had felt not only the warmth of his back, but two other things; his nose and his hand. In his sleep, Dex had filled in the space between your bodies, with one hand slung over your waist. You could feel his low breathing against the nape of your nape. The weight of his burly arm felt heavy and oddly grounding as it pinned you to the mattress. You didn’t dare ruin the strange intimacy of the moment, staying completely still.
Holding back a shallow breath, you thought back to the posters. He was a monster, the two of you knew it. But, you didn’t move, allowing yourself to sink back into the slumber and shelter of his unintentional embrace.
You felt Dex wake up when he shifted, realizing his hand was draped over you. He hummed and pushed himself against you, sighing against your ear. Feeling this, you leaned your head back, letting his nose sink your hair.
Feeling Dex place a soft and quick kiss, you sunk into his hold. It was unexpected, and it should have frightened you, but it felt tender. Before you could process anything else, Dex pulled his hand back, moving it up and down your waist. Then in a moment’s notice, he shifted and moved his hand to the mattress. He moved deliberately not to awaken you from your slumber. The cool air filled the bed as he had gotten out of bed, heading to the bed. As you pulled the budget cover up, you felt a wave of sadness and resented yourself for self-loathing.
Once Dex bought up your coffee is when you pretended to fully wake up. He stated he had to go out for the day, and didn’t disclose why. You didn't bother to ask. He mentioned he’d be back later in the day just in time for dinner, asking if you wanted to cook. Maybe a nice change. You nodded, and said you’ll come up with something. He nodded in response and left, saying that maybe after dinner, you guys could do a fire in the electric firepit in the backyard.
When you confirmed he had left, you decided to go on a run. You took advantage of the opportunity, since Dex had left. He had also left a spare set of keys under the kitchen sink, which you found. He had locked the door from the inside, but you easily unlocked in. You soaked in the cool breeze of the air and a tiny bit of freedom you got to enjoy, even if it was only temporary.
After a long shower, you had gotten into some comfortable and warm clothes. You had even stolen one of Dex’s old navy Patagonia’s since you were cold. When he wore it next, it would smell like your matching body wash and lotion. He’s into all of that, even if he didn’t tell you.
You sat on the couch for an hour, trying to read something on the Kindle. You were bored. Next, you unloaded the dishwater and did some laundry for you and Dex. Still, you were bored. As you walked down the hallway to go downstairs, maybe find a lego or sewing kit you hand;t had done yet, you saw the door creaked open to the empty bedroom. You knew that room–it was where you had first hid from Dex with all of those boxes.
Something in your gut screamed for you to not go in–automatically remembering how Dex kicked down the door and threw you over his shoulder–but as usual, you let your curiosity get the better of you.
Looking behind you and side to side, you slowly opened the door, hearing a small creak.Once the door fully opened, you stepped inside the room. It had been the amae as it was, minus a few of the boxes being opened. Still, the room was still empty. Remembering hiding amongst them, you walked down memory lane. FBI, Dr.Mercer, and other boxes didn’t catch your interest. What did was the box, unmarked, tucked away in the far corner of the room. It was a smaller box with its flaps completely shut. Walking over, you sat on the ground and looked around the box, finding no label. It didn’t feel like Dex.
A pit began to form in your stomach, but you ignored it. As you pulled open the folds, you saw a few items. The first thing you noticed was a flipped over picture. Grabbing it, you flipped it over, immediately noticing the shattered glass. Furrowing your brow at the contents, you pulled the frame out, showing Dex among a group of people. He stood to the side while all of them stood together. The crack landed on top of a woman with red hair and a warm smile. You took the frame out, further digging., You had found an old maplet for the “Brooklyn Suicide Prevemtion Center”, finding the staff. Dex was among it, but you weren’t focused on that, but this mysterious woman.
You found her quickly with her name being Julie.
And for some reason, she made your breath hitch.
Dex had never mentioned working for a suicide prevention hotline, or Julie.
You dug further into the box, finding a few items; an old Birthday card for Dex from Julie, a coffee receipt, train tickets from the LIRR, and a blurry photo of Julie. She’s in a Bodega, talking to someone. Dex had been following her, sitting in a car across the street. It made the hairs on your back stand up.
But what really got you was the obituary clipped. It didn’t look cut out, but ripped right out from a newspaper.
“Julie Barnes, 27, passed away unexpectedly on March 31. Born in Long Island, Julie was known for her kindness and involvement in the community. She was unwaveringly loyal to those she loved. She worked at the Brooklyn Suicide Prevention Center, all while pursuing her dream to become a professional dancer.
Julie had a love for long runs, The Mets, and Ballet. She had recently run The Brooklyn Half Marathon. She was a die hard fan of The Cure. She also loved any form of coffee. Friends remember her for her warm demeanor and bright smile.
She is survived by…”
The bottom of the box showed the card for Julie’s funeral, along with a crumpled red rose.
You began to drift off at this part, letting the paper fall from your hands.
Julie liked to run.
You liked to run.
Julie liked coffee.
You liked Coffee.
Julie loved the Cure.
You loved the Cure.
Julie had been an ordinary woman, and so had you been.
If anything, the box shows two things; the sad nature of Dex’s obsessive and his deeply unsettling nature.
And for some reason, it hurt you.
Did Dex have a type? Were you just a copy and paste? Was it about you or Julie? Were you the Julie 2.0 for Dex to fill a void?
The nicknames, the soft intimacy, all of it. He often closed his eyes whenever he did any of this, or never made eye contact. Maybe he was imaging Julie–he probably had been.
Hearing a navy SUV rumble in the driveway, you felt your fists clench in anger and eyes grow hot and heavy.
Everything you had built with Dex was based on a pattern.
If Julie had still been here, would you even be here?
Probably not, but whatever it is, it makes you furious. And you despised this sick feeling of envy, anger, and jealousy.
–
“So who’s Julie?”
You had made dinner as Dex had sat down. Hearing the name stunned Dex, making him look extremely uncomfortable.
“The box,” He said, his voice dropping low, “You weren’t supposed to see it-”
“The multiple photos, the obituary, the dried rose,” You listed off, feeling hurt, “Tell me who she is, Ben.”
The birthday card Julie had given Dex said “Happy Birthday Ben!” with a stupid little smiley face that made your blood boil.
“Julie was my friend. She helped me,” He finally said, “Long time ago, before I met you.”
Dex placed his fork down as the metal clicked against the place. He didn’t look into your eyes and instead went to the side.
“Okay, we dated for a bit-”
“You mean the photos you took of her?” You scoffed, feeling envious even though you were disgusted by the behavior, “That’s what you call a date?”
At that, Dex looked up. He looked both tired and sad, hands clenching into fists on the table.
“I wanted to do it right this time, with you.”
“Did you kill her? Did she reject you?” You taunted him, tilting your head.
You could see the anger in Dex’s eyes, but he did not flinch as you poked the bear.
“No,” He admitted defensively, “It was-No. It wasn’t my fault. It was Fisk’s. I didn’t protect her,” You could see the spiral begin to occur, "That's why I need to protect you. I didn’t protect Julie enough. I scared her away. I need to-”
You let out a sarcastic laugh, pushing yourself up from the chair.
“You kept her fucking obituary with a dead rose,” You spat at him, “Am I just some replacement? Some standby?”
Hearing this, Dex got up and shook his head vigorously, looking like a puppy who had just got kicked.
“No, ___. Not at all, please-”
“Do you love her? Did you fuck her? Did you kiss her neck in the morning when she’s sleeping?”
“Calm down, please-”
“No, you calm down,” You silenced him, pointing your finger. Standing up, you began to walk to the living room. Dex got up in a suit and followed you, making you walk faster.
“Am I some Julie 2.0?
You suddenly felt a firm grasp on your wrist. Stopping in place, you spun around to see a panicked Dex holding you in place, squeezing your wrist tightly.
“Let go of me,” You commanded.
He didn’t loosen his grip, “Please, don’t do this. Don’t make me explain.”
“Explain what, Ben?” You hissed at him, “That you have a type? Take ordinary girls and ruin their lives? That you’re trying to recreate your dead ex-girlfriend?”
He looked angry at the way you hissed out the last word. When you yanked your arm, his grip got tighter.
“She was a mistake,” Dex let out, “A stupid mistake. I failed her. I didn’t even love her-” He began to emotionally unravel, “She ran from me. But you? No, you didn’t run. I don’t want you to run, please. You’re different, ___. You’re better. You just need to calm down. You need to listen to me.”
Hearing those words made you not only sick, but full of rage.
In a hot split second, you slapped Dex right across the face. You feel the sharp contact of the palm of your hand meeting his cheek. Upon impact, Dex immediately let go of your hand and you fell back against the wall, tears of frustration stinging your eyes.
Seeing a burned Dex hold his cheek devastated you for some reason. You began to feel tears fall from your face.
“I am not something for you to project onto, Dex,” You cried, feeling like a needy child as you held your throbbing wrist. Dex simply looked at you, completely destroyed.
Dex didn’t move as the red imprint bloomed on his skin. His eyes glazed at you with confusion. He looked less like a hunted dangerous fugitive and more like an abused child who had been struck.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” He choked out, his voice all raspy.
“But you did,” You whispered back, silent but profound, “You hurt me. You hurt Julie. I’m not your replacement.”
Letting go of your red wrist, you felt it tingle, a dull reminder of the way Dex grabbed you. His hollow voice, along with glassy looking eyes, made you feel defeated. You closed your eyes, breathing, waiting for him to come over and grab you and enforce his control. But all you heard was him breathing, holding back in his tears while you let them fall.
Dex opened his mouth, but now words came out. You watched him swallow twice, unable to form a sentence. His eyes never left you.
“I know you're not.”
The words were low, but audible.
“I know,” You muttered, wiping your eyes with a sniffle.
The living room, dimly lit and warm, felt suffocatingly silent.
Then, slowly, Dex took a small step towards you.
And you didn’t flinch at it.
It wasn’t to trap you, but to be near you. Dex’s eyes flickered over your face, waiting patiently.
You still stood there, not telling him to stop, wiping your eyes. Your body screamed at you to run, but you stayed.
In fact, you cautiously took a step forwards Dex. Dex was taken back by it, seemingly relieved by the small step. You saw him swallow hard, taking another step right towards him.
As he caught his breath, only inches apart, none of you spoke. You looked down at the ground at your and his shoes. You couldn’t look him in the face. As you brought a hand, still looking down, to wipe your face, you saw Dex take a careful step forward. You heard him lift a hand, the one that wasn’t holding his face, and you froze, expecting a retaliatory grab.
Instead, his shaking fingers brushed lightly against the side of your neck below your ear. The unexpected gentleness, along with the raw and wounded look on his face, made you break.
Dex placed his forehead against yours, letting out a shaking breath. It was a moment where you lost all control. You closed the remaining distance, walking over to fall on his shoulder. Your foreheads touched as you rested your face in the crook of his neck, smelling his cologne and scent. You shifted your head, seeing tears fall from Dex’s face. He looked at you, relieved at the sight of your red and teary eyed face.
Feeling compelled to do so, you pressed your lips right to his. Soft, but unyielding.
Dex immediately sunk into the kiss. He pulled your head up, and in suit, your body closed to his. His hand found his way into your hair as it pulled your head slightly back, angling him to deepen the kiss.
You grabbed onto the front of his first, bunching up the fabric in your fists. Feeling the slight tug in your hand, you let out an embarrassing and low whine.
It awoke something in Dex.
He grunted in the kiss and dropped his hand that wasn’t in your hand, wrapping it around your waist and hauling you right against his body. The two of you moved to the cool wood wall as he set you against it, kissing you slowly and softly. His tongue moved slightly into your mouth, moving from the sides of your mouth. Removing your hands from his shirt, you wrapped them around your neck, pulling him in deeper. His breath hitched against your mouth as he entrapped you against the wall.
Dex pulled away, breathing heavily onto your ear. His hands remained wrapped around you, his head resting against your cheek. You cupped his cheek in his head, causing you to look at him. Dex leaned into your touch, putting his hand above yours, looking down at you like you were an angel.
You placed a hand on his shoulder, signaling him to get on his knees. Dex happily obliged, on his knees, holding his hand that held his cheek. You ran across his hair, which made Dex softly groan, squeezing the hand that held his cheek. He tilted his head as his hands dropped to your hips, squeezing them.
Looking up at you, Dex took your palm and began to kiss your palm. He kissed up your palm, moving to kiss your soft digits, before taking one into his mouth. He began to suck softly on your index finger, looking directly up at you. You let out a low mewl as you backed against the wall, letting him suck both your index and middle fingers. He sucked them with precision, savoring every moment they were in your mouth. His hands on your waist teetered close to the edge of your ass, massaging the beginning of the curve.
Holding back a moan, you felt yourself become wet. You felt guilty, but you let the pleasure take over. You moved your hand to the back of his nape, and pulled the back of his hair.
Looking up at you, Dex immediately rose. He quickly turned you around and pinned you against the wall. He held one hand up and used the other to carefully move your hair to the side. There, he began to press gentle pecks to your neck. His hand moved to your waist and carefully up, right to under your boob.
Once he found the sweet point behind your ear, gently sucking at it, you couldn’t control yourself.
“Dex,” You confessed, voice slow and whiny. You looked at him, shiny lips. He looked at you, hanging onto your words. You felt his fingers scrap right under your breast, but he stopped. Feeling this made you slightly arch your back into his, “Please.”
“Mhm,” He mumbled as his hand fully grasped your breast. Letting out a loud grunt, Dex pushed himself against your arched back, squeezing your boob. You let out a loud gasp at the shockingly gentle touch. As Dex kneaded your breast, he pressed his body harder against your back, grinding into your back.
The two of you remained like that for a hot minute; Dex pinning you to the wall and grinding you from behind as he played with your breast. You were unable to move, minus arching our back into his to feel his slowly growing erection. You removed your hand from his grasp and moved his hand under your fleece–Dex’s fleece.
Dex’s cold fingers touched against your warm skin, trailing up to cover your bare breast.
“This is my fleece,” He said slowly to your ear.
You let out an approving noise, feeling the heat grow in your stomach.
“I wanna take it off you,” He murmured in your ear, biting your hip as he moved both of his calloused hands under the fleece, one on your breast and the other on your stomach, massaging both with precision. You hummed when he bit your head, making you shake.
“I wanna undress you. I wanna take such good care of you,” Dex hummed lowly in your ear, “Will you let me, ____?”
You moved your head to the side and nodded softly, feeling your panties were soaked, the sensation of Dex’s touch. Firm, but soft.
“Please,” is all you were able to get out.
Dex quickly swooped you into his arms, carrying you bridal style up the stairs. You placed an arm around him, placing your face next to his. You could not only feel how hard he was becoming, along with how cool his touch was. Dex had let out his primal instinct, through his breathing, take him over as he got to the top of the stairs and made his way to the bedroom, kicking the door open. Once the two of you were inside, Dex let you slide down his body enough for your feet to hit the floor. But he didn’t fully let you go, and instead backed you against the closed door, hearing the soft shut, to steal another kiss from you. This kiss, while still soft, had been a little rougher as he fully stuck his tongue, fingers digging into the sides of your hips.
Breaking from the kiss, Dex took your hand and led you to the bed. He laid you down, placing a kiss on your lips as he unzipped the fleece, taking it off over your head. You had been wearing nothing under the fleece, feeling the cool skin against your bare nipples.
“God,” He breathed, his hand placed on your shoulder, “Look at you.”
You went red as Dex leaned down to kiss you and your body; his thumb rubbing your shoulder before he began to pepper kisses on your cheek and down your neck. He took his time as he took in your chest, pressing kisses and sucking at your nipples. You arched your back as he kept it down, feeling his fingers graze under your pants. His hand hovered over your warm wetness, covered by your favorite color of lace underwear.
Dex grinned to himslef and let out a satisfied noise, his index finger hovering above your clit under your pants.
“Fuck,” He hummed with a huff.
Even the hover of his finger made your arch back.
“Do you want this?” He looked down at you, tracing his fingers up your waistband, “If you don’t, I’ll stop-”
“Don’t stop. I want you to undress me. Hurry. Please.”
At your plea, Dex snapped; in a swift movement, he took off your pants and threw them to the side. He paused, sitting up and locked in on your naked display, along with the sliver of lace that remained. He quickly got off the bed to throw off his shirt and unbuckle his pants, taking them down along with his underwear in a single pull. As he stepped out, you took him out; he was big and bare. While lean, his arms and thighs were burly, and you wanted to feel them.
What stood out was his dick, which was big, thick, and veiny. It was throbbing, standing straight.
Also now naked, Dex looked at you up and down, starstruck by you.
“You’re beautiful,” He murmured, coming down to place a kiss on your forehead. He moved in between your legs, in which you slowly wrapped around him, “You’re so pretty for me.”
“You don’t know what you have been doing to me,” He gasped, his voice full of pure want. Moving in between your legs, Dex cupped his hand around your cheek and used his other hand to carefully slide his fingers between the band of your lace. You wrapped your legs around him tighter, sending a shiver down your whole body.
It was enough for Dex to move your legs up and completely remove your underwear all together. He gently placed your legs back around you and looked down at your throbbing and wet lips. He breathed at the scene, holding your legs tight.
“Do you like?”
Dex looked up and nodded eagerly, “You don’t realise how long I’ve been waiting to take you like this .I’m gonna take such good care of you, Baby.”
The little nickname made you even more wet than you already were. Pulling you up so your head rested on a pillow, Dex moved to the edge of the bed, pressing kisses down your chest, waist, and legs. He wrapped your thighs against himself. Dex didn’t rush, but admired the sight in front of him. He lightly bites your thighs, hearing you make sweet noises of pleasure. Before he began, he looked at you with dark and hungry eyes. His touch brushed against your lips, tasting your slickless. It made you gasp and arch your back.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” He shushed gently, placing a kiss on your clit. His breath was warm in contrast to his cold hands.
Dex used his tongue to swipe from your clit down your opening. You let out a moan and felt your hips move up. Dex put his hand on your stomach to keep you down. You saw him grin to himself and do the same exact thing, just quicker and deeper. He applied pressure with his tongue and flicked at your most sensitive point.
Taking his time, Dex ate you out like his life depended on it. Whenever you squeezed his head, he would only go deeper. Not once did Dex bite you or hurt you, but he took his time as he took you in, playing with your clit and sucking in all of your wetness. You pulled at his head, pushing for his head to go deeper as you felt a climax coming.
The pleasure was instant and overwhelming. As you pulled on his hair, he responded with a deep suck, pushing into your walls as you felt your body rise.
“Oh my god,” You shuttered. Dex hummed, speeding up his sucking and licking until you bucked up fully against his face, finishing all over his mouth. Dex sighed into your thighs, sucking all of your cum spilling out.
You fell back as Dex fell into your thighs, resting his face there. He then climbed back up the bed, moving your hair back. His hand ran down your thigh, remaining dangerously close to your wet pussy.
“Was that good?” Dex carefully asked, his finger teasing your entrance.
“I have no words,” You replied breathless, wincing at his finger grazing over sensitive clit, “Was it bad?”
Jaxson never ate you, and now that you had thought about it, you never finished it. You had just had your first orgasm.
As the guilt was about to eat you up, Dex brought you back to reality, a light squeeze to your right thighs.
“You taste incredible,” Dex watched you, pupils blown wide. He petted your head as he watched out for any sigh of hesitation, but all he saw was your hands reaching out to him, fingers curling by his shoulders to bring him close.
“I want you inside me,” You whispered into his ear.
Dex moved his head up to look into your eyes. He froze, breath shaking as he looked at you.
“Are you sure you want me? I don’t wanna’ hurt you," He asked hesitantly.
“No no, You haven’t hurt me,” You promised, ignoring what had happened an hour ago, “I’m giving you permission, Ben.”
Hearing his name–his real name–made Dex break. Dex groaned, getting on top of you. Dex reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a box of Magums. You were enticed on how he took the wrapper on the side of his mouth and ripped it out in a clean bite. It made you even more wet than you already were. Throwing the wrapper to the side, Dex slipped the condom on, and returned back to your face and smashed his lips into yours. Although the impact was forceful, he left a gentle mark as he sucked at your lips. He fell onto you, grabbing the base of his dick and moved your hips to align with your soaking entrance.
“Can you go slow please?” You politely asked.
As Dex was ready to push in, he nodded.
“Of course,” He gently reassured, “Just tell me if it’s too much. Okay?”
You nodded, anxiously awaiting.
“___,” Dex emphasized, looking down at you, a look of pleasure and attention, “I need to hear you say it. Please.”
“Okay, Dex,” You responded, a hand moving up his arm, “And you do the same.”
Once Dex got his verbal confirmation, he pushed an inch in. He heard you wince, but you didn’t stop. Inch by inch, and there was a lot of him, he moved slowly into you. You were so tight, but so wet. Dex let out a sigh as he felt his walls squeeze against his dick. He made sure to keep his eyes on you as he entered, almost fully in. With one last push, Dex pushed in, feeling your sultry walls. He leaned down, wrapping his arms around you and leaning into the crook of your neck.
“You’re so tight,” He murmured as he placed his forehead against yours, his nose brushing against yours, “You feel amazing.”
Once he was fully inside of you, he paused, letting you both adjust to being inside one another. You wrapped your arms around him, fingernails gently in this back.
Dex’s mouth brushed by your ear, “Am I hurting you?”
“No,” You managed to get out, feeling the tip of his cock brush against your cervix, “Shit, you're huge.”
You felt Dex harden in you at the moment. He then began to move. His movements were steady with each thrust becoming deeper. As he went deeper into you, would you moan louder, sending scratches down your back. It would also make him let out a primal grunt, slowly sinking into you. You squeezed your legs against his chest, earning a moan from him.
“Feeling you around me is all I ever need,” Dex panted, placing a kiss on your hair, “Makes me feel like the richest man in the world.”
As Dex fucked you, you grabbed his head and placed him into the crook of your neck, letting him suck at the skin of your shoulder as he firmly held onto your thighs.
You had expected him to fuck you like a animal; pulling your hair, choking you, taking you from behind, and caling you demeaning names. But what you were experiencing was the opposite of what you expected. Dex treated you like you were made of glass; slowly moving and decorating you with kisses. He gently thursted in you, savoring you rather than claiming you. He kept reiterating how much he wanted to take care of you and satisfy you, which he had been doing.
Thinking back to it, Jaxson never touched you like this. He lacked the effort, in every field of your relationship. Your sex had often been short lived and focused on his end; you had felt like a spectator more than a participant. But with Dex, it was different. Dex had taken you in and appreciated every piece of you, making sure that was taken care of before he moved to him.
And his dick shouldn’t feel as good in you as it did, but here you were scratching your nails down his back until you cried, driven by the adrenaline of the argument earlier.
As he finished sucking at your neck, Dex moved to look back at you. Dex had given you his absolute attention as he began to pick the pace up. His eyes were locked into yours; tense, but vulnerable. He once again pet your head, this time, going the deepest he had gone in you. When you let out a whine, Dex pressed a chaste kiss on your cheek.
“___, you take me so well,” He purred, moving his dick sideways, “You’re an angel.”
He sat up and pulled his dick out, before pushing it back. Seeing you whine out of pleasure had him smugly smirk, and did it again for each word he spoke.
“So. Good. For. Me.”
You turned your head at the side, feeling your legs shake.
“Look at me,” He commanded; more of a plea than an order.
When you met his gaze, Dex wrapped his large arm around the back of your throat as he squeezed you tight, beginning to thrust into you faster and deeper. Each stroke was deliberately done, slamming right into the top of youcervix. You cried out as you scratched down the sides of his back, making sure to avoid the long and new scars.
“m’’ gonna finish-” Dex panted lowly in your ear, “God. Sweetheart, I-” In those ten seconds, Dex lost control; holding you as tight as he could as he slammed into you, earning breathy moans. As his body shuddered one last time, Dex let out a loud groan as he collapsed on top of you, releasing into you. While you didn’t feel this cum, you certainly felt the warmth of it through the condom. Dex laid on top of you, heavily breathing. He eventually lifted himself up and pulled out, looking at the condom. It had been nearly filled up to the brim. Dex knotted it neatly and tossed it onto the dresser with a thud. As you laid on your back, Dex rolled onto his side and put his arm around you, pulling your hot bodies together as your heads rested on the same pillow.
“How do you feel?” He inquired, rubbing up and down your shoulder.
You stared up at the ceiling, processing what had happened. No, it was not a dream. You just had sex with Dex.
Holy shit. You had a fucking boyfriend. A grieving family. They were wondering where you were–and here you were.
And it was all because of him.
When Dex didn’t get an immediate response, he slowly began to ask panic. His fingers froze on you.
“Was it too short?” He inquired again, both breathless and anxious.
Snapping out of your trance, you turned over, focused on how ruffled his hair was and how the sweat stuck to his forehead.
“It was really good,” You reassured, and felt him falter in relief at your words, “I think I just had my first orgasm.”
His fingers stilled before pulling you closer. He began to pet your hair, playing with it as he moved his hand in up and down motions.
“First?” He whispered, processing it. It was raw with disbelief, but triumph in a possessive nature. Dex smiled to himself, and you were unable to read his thoughts, but he was certainly pleased with himself. You wondered if he was comparing himself to Jaxson, but you didn’t dare question it.
A slow smile formed on his face as he pressed his lips to your forehead.
“Good,” He smiled against your hair, his voice husky, “I’m glad I could help, Sweetheart.”
Dex gently squeezed your shoulder as you sunk into his chest, running your hand over his thigh. You felt his warm breath, trying to ignore the guilt and conflict that was washing over you.
Eventually, Dex had gotten out of bed and cleaned up the mess that was on the floor. He then came back to the bed to grab your hand, pulling out of bed slowly and leading you to the bathroom. Standing up, you felt an ache in your legs, feeling sticky and gross. He held your hand as he started the shower. He had asked, all while holding your hand in his, if you wanted to shower with him. You said yes, and a second later, was standing under the hot water as you two cleaned yourself.
As the water poured on you, hands cleaning your arms and legs, you zoned out. The guilt was eating you alive as the pleasure, while incredible, was short lived. You looked down at your body, seeing the water pour over the light bite marks and finger prints on your waist and legs. Some blood had fallen down your legs, probably from the thickness of his dick, running down your legs as it mixed with the water and went down the drain.
After you two finished in the shower, Dex took a towel and began to dry you off. He dried you off quickly before drying himself. As you dried your hair, Dex came behind you and wrapped his arms around you, pressing himself against you with a soft sound. You froze at first but then sunk into the embrace, your hand massaging his forearms wrapped around you. The hot air, along with the steam and his hold, made you feel warm and secure.
Dex and you did not dress. Once he let go and hung up the towel, Dex took your hand into his head and led you out of the bathroom, back to the bed. He climbed in and put his arm around your waist, pulling you close. Kissing the top of your head, he buried his head into your air and closed his eyes.
While you laid, you looked over at the open window into the night sky.
You felt a spur of emotions, and it was almost dizzying. However, just as it was needed, your eyes began to flutter shut as a dark sleep took you over. And your mind went final quiet–which was what you needed at that very moment.
BIRD IN A CAGE (INTERLUDE)
Pairing: Benjamin Poindexter x Female! Reader
Summary: Dex immediately chucked the address box into a trash can. He didn’t need it anymore as he felt no need to keep maps to dead ends when he had found you at the center of the world.
Word-Count: 1.9K
Warnings: Masturbation, Dex being a creeper™, Dex masturbating to you with a wall separating you because he's a FREAK, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Stalking
Author’s Note: Previous Chapter. I felt as if a Dex POV was needed for the masses (and myself)..along with him being a repressed freak™. I was gonna add this to chapter 7 but since you guys are so sweet, I wanted to give you a little tease to what chapter 7 may or may not entail 🤭 only time will tell! im halfway through ch.7, so expect that within the next 24-48 hours. also decided there will be another chapter because I said so lol. anyhoos enjoy as always !
Taglist: @star-yawnznn @efiask @n0bodykn0wss @miixkl @obsessedwithfakeguys
Dex doesn’t consider himself to be a horny person.
The thought strikes him on a random Thursday night. He’s in the second bedroom that serves as a space of empty boxes, decluttering objects his old place he hadn’t unpacked. He had organized each box by a time of his life, and while it wasn’t a lot, it had been enough for Dex. You had mentioned at dinner that the house lacked decor. Immediately, he offered to pick out some decorations he had in boxes and said you two should decorate together. You smiled, small but noticeable, and agreed to do so.
Dex would let you help, he wanted to surprise you in the morning. Partially to see you smile again.
He’s listening to “It’s Probably Me” by Sting on his Walkman. It’s not the best quality, but it’s the quantity of memories that matters to Dex. You had swung by the room after dinner, seeing him unpacking, and joked he needed to buy Airpods. He said he had actually had them, but he didn’t like the feeling of them in his ear. He was old-school, and you had zipped back, that he was just old. You laughed to yourself and walked away in your blue heart pajamas that made Dex weak in his knees. They smelt of your scent and body lotion, which Dex sometimes would take and smell. It was intoxicating, Dex watched you walk away, and was convinced you were an angel on earth.
He’s pushing forty-two and he’s never had a real girlfriend before, and it doesn’t bother him much. He doesn’t let him bother him as much as it did when he was thirty-two, twenty-two, eighteen, and twelve. The thought of being married, with a wife that hates him and screaming children, having to change his routine with crying things that take attention away from him, makes the hair on his skin spike up.
He’s digging through a box, finding the group photo from the Brooklyn Suicide Prveention Center. The photo is just as it was years ago; in its white frame and cracked. He stares at it for a long minute, and looks right at Julie. He feels his whole body go heavy as he runs his thumb over her face. It’s been years, and out of all his failed relationships, this one had affected him most. He could have prevented it, and it haunts him every day. It taught him a valuable lesson of what not to do.
He turns the photo faced down in the box and closes it, sliding it to a corner of his room. Out of sight, out of mind.
Sure, Dex’s done the whole nine yards of being very much attracted (obsessed) to people, having good, mediocre, and downright bad sex (most of the time without any real connection), and had the hard “what are we conversations” and “sorry, it's not you, it’s me” conversations that for some reason, even if it’s year laters, he laments over.
Eventually, he had found an old box of items from his time in the FBI. Deep in the box, he found the weary address box that he used to keep the addresses of all of the girls he'd gone out with. Some of them he dated, but others he didn’t. What they all had in common is that they were failed and often one-sided relationships that involved the girl ending it with Dex. Dex would always try to plead, and as respectful as he had been, it made him mad. He couldn’t let go, so he didn’t. Out of all the girls he dated, he kept their addresses. Sometimes, he’d visit their places. Sometimes, take things they wouldn’t notice. Sometimes, hide in the closet just to hear the girl’s breathing. It was a temporary comfort that subsided the pain.
Yet, they weren’t his North Stars. He tried to make them, he really did, but he wouldn’t force it. His co-workers tried to help, but it wouldn't work. Dex would just dabble in his unhealthy habits and let the pain go away little by little each day. He didn’t have time to be in a relationship.
He quickly realized he wasn’t really in love with any of them. Yes, they were all pretty, but not perfect.
But you?
You. ___, You were Perfect. Beautiful.
Not the curated and frantic perfection of others–no, your perfection was effortless. It was in the way you didn’t look for him, didn’t know he was there, didn’t try to be anything at all. You were what made the noise in his head stop, the ache in his back cease, and the tension in his shoulders drop.
Dex thought about your kiss every waking hour of the day, just as he thought of you.
You tasted even better than he had imagined. With your hand on his chest and the back of his neck, that little mewl you made when he brushed your hip skin, it was fucking gorgeous. He felt the richest man in the world with you in his hold. Dex wanted to devour you whole at that moment. He didn’t wanna just watch you; he wanted to be the air in your room, the silence between your breaths, the water that spilled down on you in the shower, and the coffee you drank. Dex wanted you whole.
Dex immediately chucked the address box into a trash chap. He didn’t need it anymore as he felt no need to keep maps to dead ends when he had found you at the center of the world. He closed his eyes and mapped out your routine and life with better precision than any FBI file he ever had handled. Every light you turned out, every day you cast–he felt as it was written for him. You weren’t a routine to be changed–no, you were the routine he had been waiting to add to his.
Dex had thought relationships weren’t for him, until he met you, of course.
Dex wanted to date you. He wanted to spoil you, call you his girlfriend, and do all of that cheesy shit with you that would have disgusted him normally. He wanted to do it right. This time, no fuck ups. No past dates, no Julie, nothing. You would be in your perfect and untouchable state.
And god, Dex wants you just as much as he wants you whole.
He’s thought about having sex with you, more times than he should. Even before he kidnapped you, he would catch himself losing it over you in a sports bra and shorts that barely covered your plump ass. He’s thought about pressing kisses to your neck as he swipes his hands under your tank top and cups your perfect breasts, kneading them until you make that pretty little satisfied noise. He’s caught himself looking at your perfect frame in your pajamas more than once, imagining you straddling on top of him naked as you rode him, grinding your hips as his dick hits your cervix. When your bending over, he’s imagined walking over and pulling down your pants and fucking you from behind as he wraps his hand around your hair and chokes you, fucking you until you cry. God, you were probably so tight.
“Sextape” by Deftones was about to start playing when the thought of you made him throw his headphones off and stop unpacking. He looked down and saw the bulge from his pants. He stood up and sat himself down on a chair, lifting the waistband of his pants to see his erect member.
In the room over, he heard movement–it was you. Dex leaned against the wall, and while it was muffled, listening to your quiet breaths and humming as you were organizing your dressers. You had done your laundry, and were humming “Lovesong” by The Cure.
Just your humming along, you, caused Dex to pull his pants and underwear off. He leaned against the wall to hear your shallow movements and noises. With his breath shuddering, Dex spat in his palm and placed a hand at the base of his cock. Closing his eyes, he drew a slow and shallow breath, running his hand up and down his shaft slowly. He imagined becoming an architecture of your tight walls, flicking the tip of his cock. Pre-cum fell out as he bit his lip, rubbing the pre-cum all of his member, imaging it to be your wetness.
Dex would never force himself onto you. If you wanted to do it, he would allow it. Even as much as he had wanted to, he was not going to take you without you wanting it. Dex was a monster, he knew it, but not in that sense. When he did it with you, for the first time, he would not hurt you. He would never hurt you again.
Dex’s dick stood straight as his slow movements began slightly faster.
He imagined fucking you for the first time. He’d wake up next to you, holding you in his arms, and kiss you awake. Then, he’d flip you onto your back and kiss you down your pretty waist until he reached your perfect lips. Making sure you finished first, he’d eat you out and play with your perfection until you were crying his name and cumming all of his mouth, in which he’d gladly suck in.
Imaging you moaning his name made Dex sink back in the chair as he quieted himself, holding onto his growing pleasure.
As Dex quickened his movements, he could see himself aligning himself with your tight hole, pushing in inch by inch. He imagined how tight, and how divine, you’d feel. You’d mewel and whine in pleasure and pain, but Dex would kiss you and tell he’d take it slow. You’d kiss him back as he would move balls deep into you, finally taking you whole.
Dex imagined fucking you slowly, but softly with you on your back. You’d wrapped your toned legs around his waist, allowing him to go deeper into you, touching your cervix. He’d dig his nails into your plush thighs, admiring the canvas in front of him of the lovemarks and bites he’d decorated you in.
With a low and guttural moan, Dex let the climax hit him. He shook as thick white cum shot out of dick and all over his hand. In that moment, he wasn’t alone, but inside of you, fulfilling the temporary fantasy of possession. His whole body shuddered as sticky and warm cum stuck onto his hands. He gasped quietly, falling behind in the chair as he rested against the wall. His Walkman still played music, and it was the smooth intro of a U2 song. He felt the room be filled with his heavy quiet breaths and the ambient music.
He was still breathing as his heart was sick, hands feeling sticky, when he heard the drawer over shut. You were still humming, finished organizing your clothes, completely unaware of him pleasuring himself that had just transpired on the other side of the wall.
It wasn’t like it was the first time this had occurred, either.
Dex stood heavily and made his way to the bathroom, cleaning his hands off. He had a few minutes before the high wore off entirely. After all, Dex still needed to unpack one last box and change his tapes to Radiohead’s “OK Computer” album so he could start to decorate the downstairs for you to wake up to.
Why he sleeping like a glitched npc character
