paired best with . . . ꒰ benjamin ( dex ) poindexter ꒱
𝓑𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 ! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 who … just moved into the trailer park alone, and she has no one with her. she just wanted a fresh start away from all of her problems, so this is where she came.
𝓑𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 ! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 who … ends up on the doorstep of her new trailer with her heavy box and she’s struggling to carry it, but then a sleazy looking man comes round the corner and offers to help her. “you need help lifting that sugar?”
𝓑𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 ! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 who … is the epitome of girly, she loves everything pink, lace, and frills, and she LOVES collecting little vintage trinkets, that’s why her moving boxes are so heavy…
𝓑𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 ! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 who … is so sweet to dex, always trying out new recipes and bringing him over a tupperware when he gets home from work since she saved him some, he tells her that she doesn’t have to and that she’s so sweet for doing that just for him.
𝓣𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 ! 𝐃𝐄𝐗 who … has been living at the trailer park for years now in his own trashy trailer, he fixes scrappy cars in his spare time just to get a little extra cash in.
𝓣𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 ! 𝐃𝐄𝐗 who … smokes very often, mainly weed and cigarettes but it’s just a habit he hasn’t put down yet, he usually does it to calm himself down after something stressful happens in his life.
𝓣𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 ! 𝐃𝐄𝐗 who … is quite pervy. but he’s at least sneaky about it, he’s always sneakily glancing down your top when your distracted while talking to him, or when you lean over in your garden, he’s looking up your tiny skirt with a gross smirk on his face.
𝓣𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 ! 𝐃𝐄𝐗 who … secretly always feels alone no matter what, he’s never really had that many friends so he just keeps to himself and does what he has to do, but with you he feels like your one of the only who really understands him and doesn’t think he’s weird and creepy.
𝓵ilah whispers … this was so fun to make omg !! pls start sending in asks about them, i already have so many ideas for what to write for them <3
𝓽aglist : @pittsick @softaurae @amourflores @blehbarbie @ellireccomendsfics @angelryex @chartingstarsx , comment or send an ask if you’d like to be added !!
I think Dex loves his girlfriend's ass. send tweet
Dex Can't Help Grabbing Your Ass
TW Suggestive | WC 609
Dex loves your ass, and this isn’t new information.
You are FBI!Dex’s first proper long-term relationship, and he learns very quickly that he likes the way you look in jeans. He likes the way you look in dresses. He likes the way you look in FBI-event-appropriate outfits that are supposed to be respectable but unfortunately still involve you having a body. He likes when you bend down to pick something up and he has to stare very hard at the wall like he’s a decent man with decent thoughts.
And he’s currently got intrusive thoughts about grabbing your ass.
Last night, he had you on the bed, taking you from behind with his hand spread over the small of your back, dragging you back to him every time you tried to crawl forward, smacking, grasping, and gripping your ass.
He wants to grab them again, but unfortunately, he is at an FBI work party. He is supposed to be Agent Poindexter, well-dressed and well-trained.
He knew inviting you as a +1 was a mistake when you’re standing in front of him, shifting just slightly on your sneakers while you listen to his coworker’s wife say something about the food, and Dex’s brain starts doing that thing where one thought becomes three thoughts becomes one very loud thought with no space between impulse and hand.
Grab it.
No.
Just once.
No.
You did it last night.
That was private.
She liked it.
She’s in public.
She likes it in public sometimes.
This is a work party.
Her ass is right there.
Hm. Good point.
His hand drops before he thinks about it and settles over your ass. His whole palm settles over you, possessive enough that your sentence stutters in the middle.
You freeze.
Then his hand squeezes, because apparently one bad decision was not enough. Apparently the horny little goblin in his brain has taken the wheel and driven directly into the edge of a cliff.
You turn your head slightly, eyes wide, mouth parted around a warning smile like, Dex. Dex, don’t.
And because you look flustered and secretly amused and pretty enough to make him stupid, he smacks your ass.
Your whole body jolts, your hand flying to your mouth to cover the laugh that immediately tries to escape, and Dex goes white-hot when he finally fucking realises what he has just done that at a room full of federal agents.
Then Ray materialises beside him. “You good, Dex?”
Dex’s hand leaves you like it has been burned. He’s beet red, neck, ears, face, all of it. He looks like he would rather be back under sniper fire than have Ray looking at him like that.
“I didn’t mean to,” Dex says in a small panic.
Ray’s eyebrows lift.
Dex swallows. “I mean, I did. I just— not here.”
“That’s not any better.”
You’re still standing there, trying so hard not to laugh. You look mortified and delighted all the same.
DDBA!Dex, though? He would do it in the middle of a bar while you were talking to your bartender friend and not feel even a little bad.
He would just come up behind you, palm settling over your ass like a fact of nature, squeeze once, maybe smack if he was in the mood, and if you turned around scandalised, he would blink at you.
“What?” He asked. “You like it.”
Because his logic is simple. He likes it. You like it. Ergo, he gets to have it.
So yeah, because of his impulsive thoughts, FBI!Dex knows better and does it anyway. DDBA!Dex knows better and thinks that is everybody else’s problem.
-
this is a queued post! I am currently either getting married or on my honeymoon! enjoy! 💕
Thinking about having a massive work crush on Benjamin Poindexter.
You like your job as a receptionist for the Bureau. It has nice benefits, you get to wear cute outfits to work everyday, and it's not as busy as some would think, allowing you to read magazines and play sudoku most of the time.
But the real reason why you look forward to going to work each monday morning is the beautiful agent who happens to work in the same building.
People around you immediately picked up on you infatuation — how could they not? Whenever he walks past your desk, you are quick to fix your hair and try to look busy, but your eyes always betray you.
But how could they not linger on his figure when he looks like that? Expecting you to function properly in his presence is just cruel.
"I'm not telling you this to be mean or anything, but I've heard that he's kind of... weird."
Hearing this words from one of your coworkers doesn't surprise you anymore. They're hardly the first ones to try and warn you about agent Poindexter, but the more they try to talk you out of your silly crush, the more into him you seem to be.
The reason you simply nod at their words and keep going on with you shift, as if they had never said anything in the first place, is because he's never been weird around you. He is a bit awkward sometimes — you'll grant them that — but you find it endearing.
Little do you know that Dex is actually obsessed with you.
Some of his coworkers have pointed out how how much time he spends at your desk, and they're not wrong. But how could he ever stay away from you?
Those moments when he gets to lean on your desk — getting a sniff of your sweet perfume — are the best moments of his day.
He want to impress you so bad, telling you about his missions, sometimes even exaggerating some details, just to get an impressed look out of you. And what if sometimes he rests on your desk in a way that makes his arms look particularly good?
Impressed you are, eyeing him with so much desire in your gaze that he feels intoxicated, desperately needing more of it. More of you.
The first time you see a glimpse of what your coworkers have been warning you about is when another agent tries to flirt with you.
He too tries to impress you with stories about the field, but when he does it, he just ends up sounding arrogant and full of himself, instead of brave and charming.
As he keeps talking, tentatively inviting you for drinks sometimes, you feel someone's heavy gaze resting on you. When you lift your eyes, you make eye contact with Dex, and what you see, just for a brief second, is not the endearingly awkward man you're used to.
Oh, no...
The man you see looks capable of killing the agent in front of you, just to keep you all to himself.
It only lasts a moment, but you swear there was something behind those eyes.
The look doesn't scare you, per se. What scares you is the fact that it doesn't make you want him any less.
It actually makes you want him more.
A/N: Just a little dynamic I would love to expand in the future. Feel free to send your thoughts in my inbox :))
magneto being a jewish holocaust survivor is integral to his story btw. i just saw a bunch of people on the internet talking about how it doesn't make sense anymore because he'd be like a hundred years old but you know what else doesn't make sense... a man with retractable claws coated in metal. or a woman that is blue and can shapeshift. or superheroes as a whole.
Yes. Yup. You are very well-adjusted and there is nothing weird or obsessive about your love for Dex. You have a normal, non-toxic, non-codependent relationship with him and your friends are not deeply concerned.
They really don’t even know the half of it. Really, they think you broke up with him the first time he went to prison and just haven’t gotten over him since and that’s for the best, because if they knew how desperately and painfully you love Dex, they might call a Bullseye sighting in. Which doesn’t work for you, because that would mean that Dex is gone and when he is gone, you feel that a piece of you has been violently taken--in your defense, that is how he would go.
You are staring at his back, the raised scar along his spine and the other occasional wounds you are scratching across. There are sporadic bite marks along his torso, his biceps and forearms. You really can’t help yourself. He’s just so cute that you can't help bite him, can't help but want to squeeze him and shake him and your arm is beginning to cramp.
Dex must be asleep, you’ve been scratching his back for at least thirty minutes now, so you let your hand fall from his back, flipping over and lightly pressing your back against his.
you feel his back begin to rumble against yours, at first you thought he was sleep talking—new, but whatever, he was cute no matter what. Then you comprehended that it was coherent speech and worse, what he was saying, “Do you want your alarm to not go off or not be able to use your laptop tomorrow?” You couldn’t fucking believe this motherfucker, who used his status as being closest to the wall plugs, thus your phone and work laptop as leverage against you, “Fine.”
You rolled back over and began to begrudgingly scratch his back.
There were red flags, you absentmindedly thought as Dex hummed in contentment, as if he hadn’t threatened you to get what he wanted. Your friends thought the way he stood sentinel behind you was terrifying, that he was more conjured golem than man. How could you explain to them that his preternatural stillness wasn’t what you found concerning, but how eager to please he was.
Yes—how could you explain that you had once, passively, mentioned how the trash would need to be taken out soon, how much you hated doing such a small task and then when you came home, it had been replaced.
Dex didn’t live with you, but he had a spare key. How could you possibly explain to anyone that it was that which unnerved you?
How to explain that when you had inevitably moved in and asked Dex, please, maybe, stop stress-vacuuming in the middle of the night you had expected an argument, had expected to beg him to please for the love of fucking god stop vacuuming at 3am.
Sure, you were definitely jaded by the string of ex-boyfriends who would’ve literally killed themselves before something you asked the first time, but there was undercurrent of something in his actions that caused you to go past vague unease and right off the ledge into terror.
How to fucking explain that? Huh? That it was being taken care of that was the most difficult adjustment?
How to explain that his ease in which he changed his coping mechanism for you was the most terrifying thing he had ever done? This was the same man who you would later know had killed men with office supplies, who you had watched take a discarded cap and shoot right through a man’s eye, this is the man that you knew had killed AVTF agents with straws and lobsters.
When you lived separately, you had ordered a new cabinet and it had taken you three hours and multiple fits of rage crying before you even debated on asking Dex for help. You had expected to need to beg, to plead, to bargain with him, probably threaten him as your patience waned. You had been pacing, still crying and in your fit, hadn’t realized how much Dex had been trying to get in contact with you—thirteen missed calls, five voicemails, twenty-five text messages that you had accidentally ignored.
You stilled when your front door knob began to jiggle, then after a few failed attempts the key had been inserted and Dex stepped in, looking just as panicked as you thought you might've. His hand was shaking, his eyes were rimmed red—he looked positively desperate.
“Why haven’t you been answering me?”
You gestured towards the cabinet. “I’ve been trying to build it, but..” You looked at the disorganized mess in front of you—haphazard, every semblance of order from when you had pulled it out of the packaging had been lost.
Dex had crowded you, had pulled you against him while looking at you like you might flee from him before he squeezed, “I thought you were leaving me.” That was when the first cracks had really began to show, but you, so upset over the cabinet had just resumed crying but into his shoulder while apologizing, that it wasn’t him it was the stupid cabinet.
He had looked down at you, brows furrowed and lower lip trembling because he used to be so openly pathetic, “Why didn’t you ask me?” and you had only stared stupidly at him, because it didn’t occur to you that might’ve wanted to help you. It had never once crossed your mind that that Dex would be more upset that you hadn’t asked because wasn’t he useful to you? Why weren’t you relying on him?
So he built the cabinet. You had sat beside him with your legs to your chest and watched him work and every time he made progress he looked towards you with those big fucking puppy dog eyes and you had felt so lucky.
Basically, whatever was wrong with you, was ten times more wrong in Dex and made you look considerably more well-adjusted in comparison and it was ten years too late to back out now.
You listen to the sounds of Hell’s Kitchen, distant shouting, laughing and the sounds of cars running. There’s a far honk that triggers a few more, a little excessive, but what do you know? You listen to the scratch of your nails against Dex’s back, occasionally pausing to rub the pad of your index finger against the raised edges of his spinal scar.
“Bebé?”
“Hm?”
“Just testing if you’re sleeping yet.”
“Why? Got plans?” You pinch the skin near his armpit. “No, my fucking arm is tired.” You waited another ten minutes, “Schnookums?”
“What did you call me?”
“Schnookums.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Okay, well, what about babygirl?”
“I’m not remotely a babygirl.”
“If not babygirl, why babygirl shaped?” Dex shifted, your hand slid down to the fabric beneath, still warm. Dex turned over to face you, eyes narrowed--the only person who might've dared to call him something so ridiculous.
“Grown men are the opposite of babygirl shaped.” But there is just enough moonlight seeping through the curtains for you to tell that the tips of his ears are red.
You looked past him, contemplative. Your expression too serious for the jovial nature of your conversation.
“Hm. Princess?” Dex shook his head, “Pookie?” He physically cringed, “Tough crowd. Okay, Dillo?” His lip curled, “I wasn’t a fan of that either.”
A minute of silence, “Dexcito?” he inched closer, “Not bad.” that was all you needed to spurn you forward, “Dexy.”
“Dexcito is better.” You hated how easily he picked up the pronunciation. ‘All about precision’ he would tell you about how easily he picked up languages—what the fuck ever.
It took you some time to notice that because you, like everyone you had kissed before Dex, closed your eyes when kissing someone.
It wasn't until one time, when you opened your eyes to slowly pull away, that you noticed it. There he was, staring right back at you, with his eyes and lips on yours.
In a way, it made sense. Dex was an observant person. Only that sometimes, instead of looking for objects he could use as weapons in the case of a potential attack, he observed you. as he so often did.
Dex had learned how you liked placing candles around the kitchen after you cooked something with a strong smell. Dex had learned to read your reactions when he made breakfast. If you didn't smile a specific way, he knew the dish lacked salt, even if you told him it was perfect.
To him, watching is loving.
So naturally, he kisses you with his eyes open. He watches as you melt into him, watches how your eyelids shut tight when his hand sneaks under your shirt—that's how he learns when to touch you.
Kissing you with his eyes open also means that he can reassure himself that you're not running away. You're right there where he can see you. You can't leave him while he's watching you, can you?
Dex can only imagine what he would do if he lost sight of you.
✧ aimee's note i don't have original thoughts, and this actually was inspired by this absolutely delicious artwork.
