twenties ⋅ she/they ⋅ bi ⋅ fic writer
multifandom ⋅ rambles too much in the tags
some things i love: spn, thg, lewis pullman, pedro pascal,
twd, mcu, the pitt, river phoenix, 5sos, exo, dcu, tlou,
heated rivalry, sdv, twilight, searows, lotr, off campus
asks are always open ⋆⁺₊⋆ ★
18+ only! minors/ageless blogs dni
insisting on patching up dex and he’s strangely calm the entire time, not even flinching when you stitch him up, completely focused on you and intensely watching you and admiring you the entire time until the second you’re done and he pulls you onto his lap… sigh
GOD okay!!! i got a bit carried away and i got a little filthy with it too OOP 🤭 i couldn’t help myself. ended up mixing two asks together for this one, hope you still enjoy babe! xoxo
the push and pull
benjamin poindexter x reader, bullseye x reader
cw: dex and his very obvious masochistic tendencies, a bit of dry humping (again, dont ask me why), he's completely covered in blood but you dont care of course. content is 18+, MINORS DNI
he already knows better than to fight you on it, you’re always so adamant on helping him, every time he arrives at your place all bloodied and beaten up you order him to “take the shirt off, sit down” so you can stitch him up
and he does, like an obedient dog, theres only a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watches you closely, meticulously every time, as if he were entertained and fascinated by your concern for him
his breathing does falter though, when you tell him "this is gonna sting" moments before pouring antiseptic over his open wounds
instead of flinching at the sharp sting, the only visible reaction from him is a slight tic above his mouth, an almost pleased but still quiet “mmph” sound emanating from his tight lipped smile
dex is in a state of elation as you stitch him up, his stomach progressively pooling up with heat at your proximity, his infatuation for you nearly bursts out from the constraints of his chest as he stares, and on top of it all you continue to rub or pierce at his tender and bruised flesh like you don’t even know what its doing to him
you being the one to inflict pain on him (even if its on accident) never fails to make dex’s mind reel with adrenaline and well… devastating want
the moment your teeth finally rips the thread you were using to stitch his last wound up dex sits up so alarmingly fast, his mouth aiming and landing directly on yours, his filthy hands reaching to lift and sit you between his crassly, almost disrespectfully wide opened legs
he kisses like he's starved for it, grunting against your lips when you squeal at the metallic taste of blood clinging to his mouth, his lips still gnashed open because of the hard blows that were inflicted on his damn pretty face
"dex, your wounds-" you mumble in between wet, messy kisses, feeling kinda angry at him for being so adamant on undoing your hard work "they're gonna split open again if you keep moving like that"
good, dex thinks
i want them too, he laughs outwardly at the continuing thoughts inside his head, the airy and mocking sound exhaled straight into your mouth
he thinks he could keep bleeding if it means he gets to watch you patch him up all over again, maybe he'll slice open new wounds just so it takes you longer to finish, to make the rawness and pain on his skin all the more worse for himself, the thought makes his cock twitch inside his pants
"dex im serious-" you say, but theres a shaky, heated quality to you voice, like the mere taste of him, his mind bending intensity and the feeling of his blood stained chest against your bare palms is easing you slowly into forgetting and dismissing his ‘delicate’ predicament
"i know you are” he says simply, separating from your mouth so he can lift a teasing brow at you, but right away his hands are moving your hips to place you on top of him, aching to feel your heat sitting right over the rough black fabric of his clothed (now painfully hardened) groin, guiding you to wrap your thighs completely around him
when you start to keenly whine in response to the rough, hardened friction dex smiles against your mouth, his teeth clanking into yours, he loves that you’re the one who’s always on the losing side when it comes to this part, that you always fall victim to his dizzying and aggressive pace
he still relishes on you putting up a fight though, he loves the push and pull before you inevitably give in to him like he always does with you
you grab the hair at the back of his head in frustration and pull, making his neck crane backwards until he can no longer access your lips, you do it so abruptly and forcefully its evident that you failed to consider the soreness and tenderness of his muscles
so of course dex hisses at the pain, his mouth still wet with your saliva and his blood, he spits out an aggresive “uungh, f- uck!”
“oh shit! baby- i- im so sorry i didn’t think it would-” you’re quick to mumble out the worried apologies, searching his face frantically, looking for any sign that could indicate you hurt him far beyond what he could tolerate, what he can stand
the truth is, so so far from that actually
dex’s face goes from a pained scowl to a dazed smile in a matter of fucking seconds, his near black eyes slowly blink up at you beneath his half closed eyelids, with a soft encouraging nod and a deceptively sweet tone he requests “harder”
dex’s face goes from a pained scowl to a dazed smile in a matter of fucking seconds, his near black eyes slowly blink up at you beneath his half closed eyelids, with a soft encouraging nod and a deceptively sweet tone he requests “harder”
reini ur crazyyyyyy!! oh my god i love when i read something and i can hear the character’s voice so clearly in my head and you’re able to do that every time!! had me giggling into my pillow with this one fr 🙂↔️
Dex x vigilante! Reader chase kink blurb where he’s the one getting chased for once?👉👈
Dex likes Being Chased
TW consensual chase kink, knife kink, sex in a public area (the woods), blood/marking kink, sex is very much described but I don’t go into anatomical detail as per usual, freak4freak, tactical gear kink(?), sub!dex
word count : 1.7k (I keep getting overboard)
Usually, Dex was the one chasing you.
To be fair, you asked him to.
Like, not in a cute normal “haha babe chase me” way. You wanted him to hunt you.
You were a vigilante, and you had gotten sick of being in control all the time. Every fight. Every decision. Every room you walked into, you had to be in control, because if you weren’t, you were dead. You fought close-range, using your trusty knives and dirty little pivots of your hips that made Dex’s brain short-circuit, because if you weren’t one step ahead of everyone, you were one foot in the grave.
So one night, you looked at Dex and said you wanted to know what it felt like to feel scared.
Just once.
Y’know, to run. To be caught. To be held down by someone who could overpower you, and you wanted it to be him.
And Dex, at first, was like. “…Okay?”
He didn’t really say it in a judgmental way. More like his brain had briefly blue-screened because you had just handed him the exact kind of fantasy that should have scared him, except it didn’t.
But he was still Dex, so of course he was terrified of scaring you away, because you’re the best thing to ever happen to him so he cannot risk it! Please. As if your obedient guard dog of a boyfriend could ever harm you. “I would never actually hurt you,” he said immediately.
And you were like, “I know.”
“I mean it.” His eyes went dark in that serious, almost wounded way as he nuzzled into your neck bed. “I never want you to feel unsafe with me.”
Which was so funny, honestly, because two days later he was in his Bullseye suit, chasing you through the woods making the filthiest empty threats you had ever heard in your life.
He got so into it.
At first he was careful. He’d let you set the pace, let you glance back, let the fear stay thrilling instead of real. But once he realized just how much you liked it?
Oh, that man would stalk you like it was a mission.
He did it slow enough to make you think you had a chance. Fast enough to remind you that you didn’t.
You’d be darting through the dark, boots skidding over leaves, heart hammering because you could hear him behind you.
“Run faster,” he’d call, voice rough and mean in the dark. “You wanted this.”
Then he’d catch you after throwing a knife that pinned your skirt to a tree. Of course you wore a skirt. Easy access, you said, as he unbuckled his belt and lowered his trousers just enough.
He’d put an arm around your waist and hand over your mouth just long enough to make your whole body go hot. He’d shoved you up against a tree, bark biting through your shirt, Dex pressed behind you, breathing against your ear like he was trying not to lose his mind.
“Got you,” he’d murmur.
And you would go pliant, not because you were weak. Because with Dex, pretending to be helpless didn’t make you helpless. It made you adored.
And then, yeah.
He’d pull your panties down and fuck you against the tree like he had earned it. Which he did.
And when you made those pretty little mewls, he would get worse.
He’d give you empty threats and filthy praise, telling you how cute you looked in a headlock, how badly you wanted this, how fucking stupid you were to go in the woods by yourself, pretty girl.
So, of course, after a while, Dex got curious.
Because he couldn’t watch you fall apart from being chased and not wonder what it would feel like to be on the other side. And because he had usually always been the more submissive one in bed.
He would bring it up like it was casually, as if he hadn’t been thinking about it for weeks. As if he hadn’t replayed every time he’d chased you through the woods, wishing the roles were reversed.
So when he finally said, “I want you to chase me next time,” you just looked up at him and smiled.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
So yes, you chased him.
You gave him the head start he asked for, watched him disappear between the trees, watched the darkness swallow him up like he actually thought he had a chance.
Cute.
You tracked him through the woods with your pulse hammering in your throat, following the glimpses he let you have.
Dex could overpower you, sure.
But he could not outthink you when he was too wired and you wanted him badly enough. And you wanted him badly.
When you got to him, Dex did fight back a little. Adds to the realism, y’know,
He shoved wrist aside, twisting out of your first grip, smiling like the bastard knew exactly what he was doing. Like he wanted you to even be more mean. You feinted left, slipped under his arm, and shoved him back hard against a rock.
Before he could recover, your knife was at his throat, and the edge kissed his skin.
A thin red line of blood bloomed beneath it, and the pain was euphoric.
Dex inhaled like you had touched him somewhere much lower. “Fuck,” he whispered.
Dex knew you would never actually hurt him beyond what you had both agreed to beforehand. You had made him sit down and talk through it, because he had looked at you with those dark eyes and said, “You can do anything to me,” you had immediately gone, “Absolutely not.”
Because was it sexy? Maybe. Romantic in a deeply unwell way? Unfortunately. Healthy? Not at all.
So you made rules, signals, boundaries, and lines neither of you crossed. Because you loved him too much to let him hand himself over like his body was a blank cheque just because you were the one holding the knife.
Dex had looked almost offended, like he could not believe you would reject such a romantic, unhinged offer.
But he agreed, eventually, because it made you comfortable.
Right now, though, he wasn’t planning to use any of the safe words you had set.
“Don’t move.” You said.
He gulped as you pressed the knife a little closer, just enough to make him feel it. Just enough for that tiny bead of blood to slide down the column of his throat.
“Strip,” you said.
Dex’s eyes nearly rolled back.
God, he was pathetic for you.
He swallowed carefully against the blade. “You want me to—”
“I said strip.”
And he did.
Slowly, because you made him. Because every time he moved too fast, you tutted and dragged the knife just enough to remind him who had caught who. His jacket hit the ground first. Then his shirt. You watched him bare himself under the trees, watched muscle shift under scarred skin, watched that obedient hunger take over his face piece by piece.
He liked this.
By the time he was stripped enough for you to be satisfied, his mouth was parted, his chest rising too quickly, his throat marked by that pretty red line.
You leaned in and licked the blood away. Dex made a whiny little sound.
“Please,” he said, and it came out so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.
You kissed the corner of his mouth.
When you finally shoved him down onto the blanket you’d both “forgotten” near the clearing— because again, planned, discussed, consensual, deranged couple enrichment activity— you climbed over him like you owned him.
And Dex let you.
You didn’t even bother getting off him to get your clothes off.
You were still in your tac gear, with straps, thigh holsters, everything. You looked like you had come straight from a fight and decided he was the thing you wanted to take apart next. And Dex, poor Dex, looked like he was going to start praying about it.
But no. You were too impatient for buckles, too hungry, so you hooked the knife under the tight black fabric at your waist and ripped it open with one hard drag. The sound of it tearing made Dex’s whole body jerk beneath you like you.
“Jesus, Dex,” you breathed, grinding down harder just to watch his mouth fall open. “You’re so easy.”
He made this wrecked, humiliating little noise and grabbed at your thighs.
You leaned over him, torn tac gear hanging off you, knife still in your fist, and rode him like you were trying to make him useless. “Look at you,” you whispered, cruel and sweet all at once. “All that body count, all that talent. And the second I cut my clothes open, you forget how to fucking breathe.”
Dex’s hips snapped up before he could stop himself.
You shoved him back down.
“Don’t,” you warned. “Be a good boy for me, yeah?”
“Fuck,” he gasped. “Please—”
“Please what?” You smiled, filthy, dragging the knife’s blunt spine down his chest while you moved. “Please let you come? Please ruin you? Please make my pretty little killer shake?”
Dex looked up at you like he would let you carve your name into him if you asked nicely enough.
You laughed under your breath and rode him harder. “God, you’re disgusting.”
And Dex, ruined so badly he looked feverish, could only rasp, “Use me then,” his voice filthy. “You caught me. Make me worth the chase.”
Oh, he was worth the chase indeed.
By the time you got back in the car, Dex looked ruined in the sweetest way. His hair was a mess, throat marked with cuts and kisses alike, mouth still pink and dazed, one hand on the wheel even though you were parked, like he was trying very hard to remember how normal people behaved after being hunted down and thoroughly fucked in the woods.
You were draped halfway over the passenger seat and halfway over the center console with a sheet pulled pathetically over you, giggling into his shoulder like you were innocent. Like your tactical gear wasn’t shredded in the backseat. Like you hadn’t been mean to him just fifteen minutes ago. Like Dex’s entire nervous system hadn’t been permanently rewired by the experience.
And he loved it. Fuck, he loved you.
He took your hand in his like he couldn’t help himself, brought your knuckles to his mouth, and kissed them so tenderly it made you giggle again, all warm and stupid with affection.
“Next time,” he said, “don’t wait so long to catch me.”
You smiled.
Poor thing.
As if he’d ever really been running.
—
Note: I see all your blurb requests from this post, and keep them coming!! I will try my best to write most of them over the next few days but I might pass on a couple simply because I’m blanking on them😅
‘He took your hand in his like he couldn't help himself, brought your knuckles to his mouth, and kissed them so tenderly it made you giggle again, all warm and stupid with affection.
"Next time," he said, "don't wait so long to catch me."’
omggggggg 😩😩 i don’t even have words!! this was so good so hot wowowowow
dex and reader both being a lil fucked up and they do russian roulette as a form of foreplay 😳 the tension of sitting and facing him on the bed, keeping eye contact the entire time while he keeps his voice low and soothing, encouraging even with a glint in his eyes, both your hearts racing as he loads it with the one single bullet, leaving it up to chance…
but i could also see him not even using a real one tho, just a blank so as to not actually put you in any real danger, but he wouldn’t tell you that because the look of exhilaration on your face when it doesn’t fire would make him hard…..
………i’m gonna go touch some grass LMAO
UGH YOUR MIND destiny!!!! when wilson bethel said dex needs a fucked girlfriend this is exactly what he meant actually <3
below the cut cw: life threatening thrill seeking, self harm in a way??, read at your discretion
staring at you with an euphoric look in his eyes, pupils blown wide, smiling at the fantasy of it going off and you being the last thing he ever sees, its already heaven to him, and then the thrill of watching you do the same, your loving eyes zeroed in on his, placing your blind faith on his rigged gun (because he's far too selfish to ever let you go), soothing with gentle touches all over your face, nodding slowly and whispering at you to go ahead and pull at the trigger, watching intently as your breathing halts and pauses, your body going stiff, feeling himself get painfully hard when you gasp out loud at the realization that its another blank
when you realize he cheated though, you tell him "oh baby, if were gonna do this we better do it right" loading the weapon and spinning the revolver dramatically loud and proceeding to sit on his lap, smiling wickedly at him when he aims it at his head and he responds in kind with a vile smile of his own, eyes glazed over with want, his dick threatening to spill into his pants at you exhibiting that control over him, the both of you breathing loud sounds of exhilaration into each others mouths when dex pulls at the trigger once more
