ÖŽÖ¶ÖžÛ¶à§ËÖŽ Ë iâm 18, (a jan baby), meaning my acc is mdni as i may post 18+ stuff <3
ÖŽÖ¶ÖžÛ¶à§ËÖŽ Ë my interests consist mainly of grown men. this may concern you, as it does i. just know i did not choose such a trait in which i possess, it was a god-given curse. one that has consumed my mind and tumblr searches.
 ֎ֶ֞۶à§ËÖŽ Ë oka so anyway me likey ted nivison, jschlatt, charlie slimecicle, jack manifold, hamzahthefantastic, hasan piker. this is bound to change lel.
Û¶à§ËÖŽ Ë iâm also a major lover of the bear, challengers, the pitt, wake up dead man
 ֎ֶ֞۶à§ËÖŽ Ë my inbox is open for literally anything. for writing reqs, i think iâm best at writing fluff, so if u req smut, it will be poorly written i fear (but i shall try anyway). i know most youtubers (chronically online since 10000 BCE), so just req for any, as long as i donât have my personal gripes w/ âem, i shall write for them. âtis also open for silliness. despite my nonchalant and 6â9 energy, i do appreciate a little whimsy. fank u vry mooch <3
 ֎ֶ֞۶à§ËÖŽ Ë i also want friends pleak. stranger danger does not exist in my mind, lets get married or whatever
can we please stop putting smut under fluff tags and vice versa?? i get you guys want people to read your fics but itâs so annoying, no matter the character, every time i search under the fluff tag, its always just smut đđ
please use tags for their intended purpose, whatever relates to your fic, use it, but if it doesnât have a certain element, stop putting it under that tag!!!
inspired by one of the greatest songs ever aka : family tree - ethel cain
tags: descriptions of gore and blood, angst, hurt/comfort, explicit sexual content, injured!dex, handjob (m receiving), dry humping, unprotected p-in-v (pls wrap it up), praise and edging (both receiving), dex being a desperate p*rv (contractually-obligatory), dacryphilia, c0ckwarming, fluff
requested by anonymous. original request linked here! thank u eternally for requesting!!
summary: benjamin poindexter is on the run from the avtf and lands a bloody mess in the side alley of the reader's building. in a shocking stroke of luck, you are quite the good samaritan and take him in. âȘ
it was approaching midnight as you were returning to your apartment from your long shift at work. the night breeze was cool against your face as the city lights illuminated your path.
your steps slowed when a rattle came from the alley just next to your building. a gurgling cough followed, and you couldn't stop yourself from looking, intrigued when you saw a pair of legs sticking out from behind the dumpster. you approached with caution and pepper spray, but lowered it immediately upon seeing how bloodied and beaten the stranger below you was.
you figured he was in his mid-to late thirties, built like a weapon. his face was torn to shreds, oozing with every wince he made. similarly, with each breath, he was wheezing slightly. his blue uniform, that covered his entire top half except for his eyes, was stained with blood in several areas. the worst was on his right side where he was clutching himself to stem the bleeding, gritting his teeth in pain.
you knew he was dying.
so you made the split-second decision to take him into your apartment. this was a complicated affair, granted that he was approximately double your size in terms of muscle mass, so getting him off of the ground was terrifically difficult. after bending his knees, much to his chagrin, and stepping on his boots to keep him balanced, you took the stranger's outstretched hand and hoisted him to his feet. he groaned, dribbling blood and spit from his lips as he leaned most of his weight on your much-smaller frame. you were beyond thankful you had started going back to the gym as a new years' resolution.
it was truly a miracle that you got him up to your apartment without falling. you had to go back down later with a rag and wipe up the trail of blood on the floor, though.
you took the bloodied, masked man into your bathroom, switching on the overhead light to see him more clearly. when you did, your breath hitched.
"hoping for daredevil?" he bristled, deeply uncomfortable beneath your scrutiny.
your brows narrowed, confused. "what? no."
your voice was like honey. he didn't quite know what to do with this. why were you helping him?
you opened the cabinet and pulled out an extensive first-aid kit, rolling up your sleeves. "alright, we need to get those cleaned and stitched up before you bleed the fuck out. will you let me help you?"
the stranger let out a laugh. "will i let you save my life?"
"consent's important," you replied. "gotta peel that," you gestured to his entire uniform, including the leather suit with the signature bullseye on his forehead, belts to store knives and guns, "off."
a beat passed and the electrical charge of the air changed.
"i have clothes that can fit you, don't worry."
dex wasn't sure if "worry" was exactly the correct term for what he was feeling. he let out a sharp exhale, and with his unoccupied hand, removed his mask.
"oh, hi," you introduced yourself sheepishly, blushing under his intense gaze. that, and the fact that he was incredibly handsome. it was then that you realized who he was, but it wasn't going to change what you were doing. he needed help now.
"hi," dex breathed, reading that you'd recognized him, dropping the mask to the ground, immobile.
you approached him the way you would a stray animal, hands raised. "may i?"
dex nodded, yet he still appeared apprehensive of you. you started with the belts, easing them off his torso. his hazel eyes tracked every one of your movements as you unclasped the hook at the top of his uniform and began to unzip it down his muscular back. you peeled the fabric forward gently, pulling it over his unfairly broad shoulders toward you. dex hissed at the pain, having caught on a wound you hadn't seen.
"shit, i'm so sorry, there's no easy way to do thisâ"
"'s okay."
resolve churned in your pretty eyes when you looked back up at him. tenacious. he liked it.
you continued, taking dex's gloves off his large hands before you stripped the fabric further down, revealing meaty biceps and a built, wounded chest. you'd admire him if he wasn't so caked in grime and blood.
your eyes landed on the gash in his sideâto which he now held a clothâwidening in horror. "jesus christ."
your hands hovered a few inches away from his belt buckle. there was a wound on his left leg, you knew that much from his limping.
dex whispered your name and it felt intimate on his tongue. your lashes flicked up to him and he swore his heart stuttered, nodding. your hand was undoing his buckle and dex's head was spinning. he watched you religiously as you stripped his combat pants off, mindfully avoiding his wound. you'd made him kick off his boots as soon as he'd gotten into your apartment, so all he was left in were his black briefs as he loomed over you. maybe if he hadn't lost so much blood, he could've found it within himself to be embarrassed.
"need to clean you up," you said softly, gesturing to the first-aid supplies. dex agreed, not shocked when you were able to thread the needle with little-to-no difficulty. you reached for the 97% isopropyl alcohol first.
the giant gash had to be treated first, of course. you apologized sincerely for how terribly this whole ordeal was about to hurt him and dex thought that made you a good person. he slammed his hand into the wall, hissing through his teeth when you pressed the cloth soaked in alcohol against the wound. wiping the blood away from the edges of his flesh, you tried not to think about the length of the knife that could have done this.
dex clenched his torn fist as you pinched the sliced muscle together, previously-threaded needle piercing him with haste. he swore and grounded himself in the pain, teeth pulling his bottom lip between them harshly, certainly drawing more blood. he studied your beautiful face, so focused on saving his life with your furrowed brow.
the pull of the string through his skin was awful but necessary, the pain of it suddenly reminding him just how long it had been since someone had touched him like this. firm, but gracious. maybe never, he realized.
dex begins to fill with shame as his mind races. you pierce him again and he inhales sharply, giving you a quick nod to continue as he can feel himself hardening in his briefs. your warm fingers on his body feel foreign and heavenly. he's trembling when you finally finish the stitch, half-hard and strung out. you tidied your work, snipping off the excess string and wiping off any further blood.
you moved to the next incision near his left shoulder, gently washing his torso with a cloth as you did so. dex breathed heavy as he watched you through hooded eyes, aching with need. you repeated the same steps and dex lost himself in it, throbbing against the briefs that separated him from your thigh.
"fuck, i'mâ," his throat was dry, so he swallowed thickly. it didn't help.
"you'reâŠwhat?"
he wanted to cry.
"'m sorry." his hazel eyes darted down to his erection, guilty. "you're just..pretty."
"oh," you gasped, a stunning smile touching your lips. desire pooled low like lava in your abdomen, pussy soaking through your panties. grinning, you pressed a chaste kiss to his clean chest. "'s okay, honey. 's natural, it's okay."
he threw his head back and moaned wantonly, cock jumping. you finished your stitches quicker this time, cleaning him, before shifting to care for his bloodied face. the tenderness of your touch was intoxicating. dex found himself closing his eyes, slowly rocking his hips against you, sighing through his straight nose in contentment.
"ben?"
"mm?"
"gonna let me take care of that one on your leg too?"
dex groaned in response, nearly choking on air when he watched you sink to your knees in front of him. this was a simple bullet graze so you wasted no time in getting to work. you kept the same laser-focused intensity as last time, though now with a scorching heat in your cheeks under his scrutiny.
by the time you'd finished fixing dex's wounds with the proper gauze, he was whining your name, leaning on the counter for support to stand. you peered up at him from the floor, curious.
"please."
dex wasn't quite sure what he was begging for, but he could have wept in victory when you'd taken his hand and stood. something told him you knew exactly what he needed, so he followed you like the needle on a compass into your arms, into your bedroom, onto your bed, beneath you.
you giggled, planting a kiss on his lips. "'s okay, i got you. just gonna make you feel good, okay?"
he whined back into the kiss, nodding. you reached down and wrapped your delicate fingers around his girthy cock, feeling the weight of it in your hands. he twitched in your hold, moaning lowly as you began to jerk him off, squeezing his bulbous head, mixing the gathering pre-cum with your spit as lube. your cunt was sopping now, dripping your juices onto his thighs below.
you lined yourself up and sank down upon him, weeping into dex's mouth. you rocked your hipsâyou couldn't help it, you were just so needy. slowly, inch by inch, dex's thick length filled you, tip caressing the brim of you.
"f-fuck, baby," you whispered against his lips, and it had dex on fire. he was throbbing inside you, walls gripping him within an inch of his life as you gently began riding him.
dex had to think about some pretty sick shit to not cum right then and there.
after a whorish roll of your hips, dex whined. "fuck, i like that."
"yeah?" you did it again. "feels good, honey?"
he swallowed thickly, nodding uncontrollably. you leaned in, meeting his lips in a searing kiss. your fingernails left moon-shaped crescents in the slabs of his pecs, gripping him firm while you bounced up and down on his cock. dex hit deep inside you, stretching your gummy walls deliciously.
"wanna hear you, dex," you mumbled against him, moaning freely as you threw your head back. his hips' pace stuttered, slowing his movements inside you lest he finish too early.
dex planted hands the size of baseball gloves on your thighs and slowly fucked you on his cock. the new position added perfect pressure to your clit. a desperate moan fell from dex's pink, puffy lips, as he blinked up at you, dazed.
"'s warm," he groaned.
you nodded, letting out an "mhm".
dex choked on a breath, eyes flickering to where your bodies joined, wet and aching. "fuck. need this pussy, sweetheart. 's all mine, right?"
a grin lit up your radiant face. "make it yours, then."
dex chuckled for the first time in what felt like forever, in genuine joy. you kept your sinful pace, gliding up and down on his length as the tension in your core was building. he captured your lips between his in a bruising kiss as you matched each others' pace and swallowed each others' moans.
he must have read the pattern in your breathing, because dex relentlessly, steadily fucked you while you ground your sensitive clit on him.
"'m close, fuck," you whimpered.
"yeah?"
you nodded pathetically, nearly in tears from the stimulation.
"yeah, honey?" dex's voice shook as he spoke. "gonna cum all over me?"
your cheeks flamed in humiliation and a sob escaped your lips. but you couldn't stop riding him â not when it felt this good.
he barked a laugh when you nodded again. his right hand came up to rest against your cheek and you covered it with your own, interlacing your fingers.
"shit, 'm cumming, baby," you breathed.
you cried out, falling against dex's shoulder and sinking your teeth into the muscle there, avoiding any injuries. he gasped, cock twitching inside you. the pain was so erotic, dex had a hard time controlling his groans. a new wave of wetness as your cum gushed around his cock.
"mm, me too, pretty girl."
dex saw stars. he pulsed inside you, veins dragging against your sinewy walls, eyes rolling back and closing tight. his hot cum filled your perfect cunt, the excess dripping down your velvety thighs whenever dex thrusted again.
as your gasps and sighs slowed, you settled into dex's relaxing form, tucking your head under his chin as you lay on his chest. you inhaled deeply. he smelled of sweat, rain, gun oil, and a bit of fabric softener. by tracing nonsense patterns on his scarred skin, you were unknowingly putting dex's thoughts to rest and lulling him to sleep.
within minutes, he was out like a light, his arm a dead weight around your waist, snuggling you to him. with not much else to do, you smiled, planted a goodnight kiss to his chest, and readjusted to comfortably rest on his warm, large body.
a/n: hey again sexies! (dexies?) this took entirely tew long to write, but i was...como se dice "motivated" by those new ddba stils....so here we are. need this man so bad it's getting to be something insane. wow.
pls lmk your thoughts! and as always, asks and requests r opennn! :)
xoxo, b
poindextergirlâą 2026. do not feed my work into ai, repost, or translate my work. reblogs are very much appreciated! â±
warnings/themes: slight nsfw (making out + suggestive/explicit language), swearing, mental illness, wlw, not for men, slight angst, mdni 18+
reader is portrayed as: feminine, mentally ill, depressed, dissociative, ignorant (blud does not know whats going on around her). okay so she's essentially a girl failure and a girl kisser.
tags: wlw fic, tashi duncan x fem!reader, challengers.
a/n: i am so sorry if this is an unrealistic portrayal of tashi duncan i havenât watched challengers in a hot minute. it feels true to me tho. also its a FANfiction!! please enjoyyyy. OH and they were supposed to fuck but i have just found out i donât like writing IN-DEPTH smut, like the whole continuous descriptions of every little thing they do in it, dykwim? like i am down to write smut drabbles though.
Itâs not like you were considered the most joyous creature to grace Stanfordâs presence, but an air of concern and judgement has surrounded your being, it may have blended into your shadow, considering how it follows you around everywhere. Whispers, glances cast in your direction, and noticeably lowered tones was a regular occurance for you to experience at this point. It didnât make you feel anxious anymore, you didnât get that gnawing feeling in your gut, anxiety seemed like an old friend to you nowâone that drifts away when you move away. Melancholia had replaced this former ââcompanionââ, in the same way that anxiety had once met you, by seeping into your brain chemistry and thus depressing all that you do.
Your sorority had dropped you, said you werenât ââsocialising enoughââ, you didnât go to parties and fuck frat boys much anymore. You spent most of your free time sitting on your dingy twin-sized bed, legs dangling over the footboard, palms against the mattress and placed beside your thighs, head tilted down to fade in and out of reality gaze at the floorboards of your dorm. Nothing felt clear anymore, that was certain, and even with your long-sighted glasses, you wouldâve never been able to see Tashi Duncan coming your way.
Tashi had her eyes on you for a while now, unbeknownst to you, obviously. Your ignorance to her excessively long stares worked to her advantage, classes were spent with her eyes trailing from the professorâs boring slideshows to your back, something that her eyes had become well accustomed to ogling observing. She first noticed you whilst you were sitting in a partyâs smoke room with your then-fling, months ago. You look bored out of your mind, an elbow resting on the cigarette burned loungeâs arm, your head leaning into your hand, posture slumped, and eyes looking as glazed-over as ever. Something about your barely-on-earth presence willed in Grand Slam winning tennis player, Tashi-fucking-Duncan. You probably couldnât give a shit about that anyhow, huh.
Safe to say, Tashi was somewhat elated when you made a mystical appearance at her birthday party, that she had invited you to while you were packing up your stuff for your next class, scaring you at first with her initial greeting. Gosh, you were jumpy, she had internally noted after your shoulders had jolted, and your body turned quickly to face hers. It had been your first face-to-face interaction for a while, you were bound to be a little flinchy, right?
Tashi let out a little snort but apologised anyhow, commenting on how you looked like a ââscared little puppy,ââ and then quickly added, ââan adorable scared little puppy.ââ Which earned a genuine chuckle from you, it was the first time in months something as rare as laughter had slipped out of your mouth, ââIâve heard worse, I suppose,ââ you had joked, dryly, but the realness in that statement wasnât lost on either of you.
She then proceeded to invite you to her birthday party, and handed you a tennis-themed invitation with the numbers ââ19ââ stamped largely on it, which you had pinched out of her hand. You had noticed how it was her serving hand, from all the callouses and scars that decorated it. You shoved the invitation in your pocket and spoke, ââIâll uh⊠see if I can, thanks,ââ offering her a polite nod and closed-lipped smile before walking out of the classroom.
Tashi stood still, slightly shocked at how you had only simply considered attending her birthday party. It wasnât like she was an entitled brat, she didnât expect you of all people to attend social events of those you werenât close withâor at allâbut the girl was used to people fawning over her, cut her some slack! Needless to say, a part of her liked the fact you were⊠normal about her. However, Tashi was anything but normal about you.
So, remember that invitation, the crinkled one you are currently staring at between your fingertips? Great! Well, something medically insane mustâve happened to you, because youâre going to Tashi Duncanâs 19th birthday party. You couldnât be bothered to put on a shit-ton of makeup, and a skin-tight dress that wouldâve been less than breathable, so you settled on an old, barely-worn cashmere sweater, denim, wide-leg jeans, wedge shoes, and a dainty necklace. You supposed looked presentable, so you shrugged off doing anything more, grabbed your purse, and left your dorm room.
You crossed a few hallways before entering the lionâs den Tashi Duncanâs birthday party! Yay! And were ever so kindly greeted with plenty of gasps and judgemental glances, it nearly made you roll your eyes and find a closet to hide in, until Tashi approached you, a big smile on her lips, as if she was excited to see you. Weird, you didnât think Tashi was that smiley of a person, it left you reading the expression to filth, searching for any potential snark, but you were cut off by her waving a hand around, trying to get your attention, ââhellooo? Anyone home?ââ She joked, with feigned sarcasm.
Your eyes snapped up to meet her slightly feverish gaze, ââhey, sorry, yeah, I, uh- didnât get you a present, sorry,ââ you sounded less than apologetic, but Tashi didnât care about a present, not when you were here. ââOh, no, donât worry about that, I only just invited you today,ââ she brushed it off with a wave of her hand. ââDid you want a drink? The barâs just over there-,ââ ââI donât drink.ââ you cut her off, tone dry but not malicious, with a shake of the head. ââOh- that's fine, let me know if you want anything, like a soda, or-ââ ââarenât you supposed to be the birthday girl? Shouldnât you just⊠relax, or whatever?ââ You asked, with a slight huff.
Tashi processes this for a minute, her eyebrows slightly furrowed, tongue darting out to meet her bottom lip, then going back to rest on the roof of her mouth. ââI mean, yeah, but itâs not like Iâm doing this for everyone, yâknow?ââ Her head tilts at the last bit of her sentence, forcing your head to lift and eyes to once again meet hers.ââWhat could you possibly mean by that?ââ Your dry tone was simultaneously an incredibly desirable and infuriating trait to her, and when met by your subtle glare and naturally bored expression, she wanted nothing more than to fuck you.
ââOh, for fuck sake, you know what I mean. I talked to you for the first time today, in like, ever, invited you to my birthday party, and you donât know what I mean âby thatâ? Are you stupid or just so fucking not-here that you canât tell that I like you.ââ She had exasperatedly declared her love confession with a large sigh, but her tone wasnât loud enough for many people to notice, she was careful to not cause a scene, careful to not scare you away. You werenât easily scared though, jumpy, sure, but you had a talent for causing even the most patient of humankind to erupt in an outburst, and that removes the fear of a harsh word exchange. So, your eyes fluttered open and closed repeatedly as you tried to process this, eyebrows furrowed, and hands raised as if to tell Tashi to slow down.
But, Tashi isnât a patient person, she doesnât slow down, the court isnât the only place sheâs fast in. ââSo? Do you like me too or what? Câmonâjust answer, I donât care what it is but just answer,ââ she impatiently demanded, and a hint of insecurity could be found in her tone. Tashi Duncan was scared. Tashi never had crushes, like, ever, romantic affection was a big no-no unless she was truly playing for keeps or just wanting to get off, otherwise, it was just a big distraction from her self-proclaimed lifeâs purpose: tennis. So, if Tashi liked you, and was willing to put herself through humiliation via confessing her pent-up romantic attraction towards you, you probably shouldnât fucking humiliate her.
âââŠUh, wanna like, make out, or somethinâ?ââ you suggested, as if it was the best answer you could provide as you shrug your shoulders. Tashi truly wonders if you died a frat guy, but accidentally got reincarnated into a mentally ill college girl. Tashi gives you an almost disgruntled look before she cuts her own expression off and mutters, ââyou know what, good enough for me,ââ and practically takes your hand captive before bringing you to an empty room within her friendâs senior dorm.
She shuts the door after you come inside, and instantly slams her lips against yours, her fruity flavoured lip gloss tastes holy on your tongue. However, it might be smart to not attribute Tashiâs own godly doings to her lip gloss, but whatever it is, youâre somewhat alive for the first time in ages, and drowning your tongue in her mouth. Your lips fold into hers as if youâre seeking life support, and Tashiâs lips are the plug, so you make sure you donât pull away.
Oxygen appears optional to the two of you at this point, an afterthought, especially when your back is now pressed against the wall and Tashiâs hand, the famous serving hand, is firmly placed upon your jaw. Her free armâs forearm pressed against the area above and slightly to the side of you, and your hands around the curve of her waist.
Nothing has ever felt more pathetic to Tashi Duncan than this moment here, her lips intertwined with yours, and your hands on each otherâs skin. Youâll wake up in the morning and move on, and Tashi doesnât know if she ever will. Shame will linger within Tashi, and you know it too, but fuck it if you actually care. Maybe, if you put people on a pedestal, this moment wouldnât be just another moment, but you donât, and Tashi loves and loathes that. Somehow, youâve become the very thing she hates: a distraction. So, Tashi Duncan will continue to find ins and outs to get you in an empty room with her again, one she knows youâll be out of in a fucking flash. And thus, a kiss is the beginning of cannibalism.
i do not have majority of social media apps, and i donât live in america. however, when you search up âfuck iceâ on pinterest, it will not show anything. when you search up âfuck leftistsâ it will show everything.
found this out myself today. get more woke, get more progressive, get more educated.
