#{dex

[animentality]

[tredlocity]

(Dex is owned by @ghoulcandy)

[notgaybuckybarnes]

DAREDEVIL: BORN AGAIN 2.04 "Gloves Off"

[poindextergirl]

perverts - b. poindexter

hey horndogs we're back with one i had so much fcking fun writing (if u couldn't tell). anyhoo, enjoy!

tags: graphic depictions of violence (obligatory), attempted m*rder, stalking, angst, explicit sexual content, service-switch!dex, dry humping, choking (f receiving), gun play (pistol held to reader's head for one scene), oral, fingering, and edging (f receiving), handjob (m receiving), unprotected p-in-v (pls wrap it up), praise/degradation (both receiving bc i'm freaked out), dex being a desperate p*rv returns, dacryphilia (low key p*rv reader too), c0ckwarming, a dash of fluff

requested by cielmrain. original request linked here! thank you so so so much for requesting!!!! i had an absolute blast writing this :)

summary: benjamin poindexter had been sent to kill you, the reader, years ago, but daredevil had saved you. during prison-enforced reflection for his crimes in relation to wilson fisk, you grew to haunt his obsessive thoughts. when he escapes rikers' island, he seeks you out first, his north star. ✪

benjamin poindexter, former fbi agent, veteran, and scarily-expert sniper, was in prison, said the TV. your heart stuttered in your chest when his picture filled the screen. blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a chiseled, scarred face. your hand snaked up to your neck, where the bruises had long faded from his strong fingers keeping you pinned against your bedroom floor. he had pressed a pistol gently to the side of your head, snugly in the spot just below your ear that dex refused to admit he wanted to mouth at. you could nearly feel the cool metal on your skin through his empty gaze in the mugshot.

you smirked at the sight of one particular scar on his neck, where you'd gotten him good. the TV switched to video of his arrest and your smirk got wider. you hadn't pressed charges against him after the incident, but this was satisfying enough.

you owed your life to matt murdock. you knew that. he jumped in at the last second, after having tracked dex across the city that night, and got the gun away from dex, away from you, and away from harm.

yet for some reason, when you really thought back to that moment, you couldn't shake the feeling that you weren't in any mortal danger in dex's hold.

you had put up a good fight — you really had — but he took you down in seconds. despite his hand gripping your throat hard enough to bruise, and the obvious threat of the firearm, there was something akin to curiosity in his eyes when you batted your pretty eyelashes up at him. rays of moonlight peeked through the blinds, casting harsh diagonal lines across his ruggedly handsome face. a face you'd seen a few times on the street or the subway, watching from afar, now that you thought about it. when the initial surprise wore off, you willed your wild heartbeat to slow, but it rejected this request at the starved twinkle in his stunning eyes.

"it's you," you gasped.

you...recognized him? dex short-circuited. his mind spun like a top.

your breath caught as his hold tightened on you. you remember the fear that shocked you at the question of whether he had a finger on the trigger. why even bother asking? the answer was yes, of course.

what you didn't know was that benjamin poindexter was doing his absolute best impression of a person holding it together. you, with your minty breath fanning over him, coming from between your soft, parted lips, with your favorite lip balm on them. he was there to kill you after stalking you for weeks, and now you were there, in his arms, pressed against him and the carpet. he should be pulling the trigger. but here he was, wondering what the lip balm tasted like on your sweet lips. dex let out a measured breath. and was that...desire? just there, in the flecks of green in his eyes?

"'s me," he spoke. you thought his voice would be confident, but it rasped, grating the way a gravel driveway might. desperate.

your fear seeped through you. it only emphasized your intoxicating scent: the salt from the sweat beading on your forehead; the layered notes of your perfume; the pheromones stirring beneath your soft skin. the fear mixed slowly with shame as you found your eyes flickering down to his lips.

dex inhaled sharply, tracking your movements. he should just do it. it's simple. pull the fucking trigger and be done with the mission, dex.

you made the situation oh-so-much worse when you drew one of your full lips between your teeth. he took a ragged breath and tried not to calculate the exact distance between your bodies: mere millimeters, if that. everything about you was warm and intoxicating. when was the last time dex was warm? he got lightheaded at the thought.

"what's your name?" you ask, voice shaking, not at all expecting an answer.

a beat passed as he considered you the way a predator would. a dangerous gleam reflected in his his haunting gaze.

"dex."

"you've been watching me," you realized.

"i have," dex answered steadily, carefully, like he was walking on eggshells, terrified of saying the wrong thing. as if this entire ordeal wasn't way past "the wrong thing" at this point.

"you're here to kill me."

"i am," he answered with that same guilty calm. he wouldn't meet your eye, but studied your face.

your stomach churned. you knew your work would get you in this type of trouble someday. you pissed off wilson fisk? this is what you got.

the clock on your night stand ticked the seconds away. otherwise, the charged silence and dex's clean, musky scent in the room suffocated everything else. this stranger was here to kill you and yet, his brows were pulled together, forming a crease on his forehead, like he was reconsidering. you were floored by the overwhelming urge to kiss him on the wrinkled, slightly damp skin...god, you were sick for that, right?

dex warily watched you swallow. he was nearly vibrating with the need to let out a single one of the tormenting emotions he was feeling, especially with how things were now that julie had left. the buzzing in his brain was building. he felt like a dog about to whine, begging to be pet.

without making any sudden movements, you engaged your core and lifted your hips just so, to grind with him gently. his eyes nearly bulged out of his skull, cheeks turning pink when he couldn't stifle the erotic moan that you pulled from him. the barrel of the gun had nodded off, no longer pressed directly to your skull. you grinned wickedly.

"already, baby?" you teased, of course, referring to the quivering erection dex was sporting.

for the life of him, he didn't know what to do. dex was so mortified, he wanted to crawl inside himself and never show his face ever again. the tips of his ears were a shade of deep maroon. equally shameful was how fucking turned on he was by the whole endeavor, down to simply finding you beautiful in the early days, now to this. it took every ounce of self control in his body to wrestle back his appetites before they slipped free from his grasp.

"fuck you," he spat. anything to cool the burn of your rejection. you brushed it off with a chuckle and it only infuriated him more. the corners of your mouth curved upward in a knowing smirk.

"yeah?" you mocked, tilting your head to the side. "you wanna?"

"knock it off, you fucking brat." dex thrust his hips forward, pinning you both to the floor beneath. he stole the wind from your lungs and tore a moan from deep within your chest. humiliation flared instantly.

and then the motherfucker had the audacity to laugh. your nostrils flared in irritation. "sorry, sweetheart. you make fun of me for getting desperate but i get you down here and its..." he took a grounding breath. "well, it's the pot calling the kettle black, here, angel, isn't it?"

"shut the fuck up," you sighed, digging your fingernails deeper into the jumpsuit fabric covering his bicep as punishment. dex sighed too, trying his damnedest to mirror your movements as to not spook you away. he invited the pain from your nails — found it familiar — as something to tie himself to.

he bound himself to your degrading words. he bound himself to the gasp you let out when he rolled into you again; to the feeling of your warm body against him; to the view of you beneath him. dex felt himself becoming obsessed in real-time. it was intoxicating.

you were dizzy for a similar reason, but you'd never admit it, quite literally with a gun pointed at your head. shame cooked low and slow in your core. you had only intended to tease him, to knock him off his game. never did you think you'd like it. heaven forbid. nor did you think he'd be so responsive and...big against you.

you got the distinct impression that if you were to ask, dex would gladly manhandle you in this position onto the bed. to even consider it was horrible...right? to want it was...

"are you gonna kill me tonight, dex?" your voice was barely above a whisper.

dex groaned like he was in pain, leaning down to nuzzle your cheek. "'m still thinking about it, honey, mkay? it's complicated. just...just let me think a second, hold on."

you nodded fervently. he was weighing his options. at this time, you had to weigh yours, too. was it clinical? to want to fuck your stalker? had to be. he's threatening your life, you fucking idiot.

dex's breath came in hot pants against you, his strong nose pressing into the soft skin of your face. yes, this was reckless. dumb, perhaps. if you didn't have so much damning evidence that he wanted you, maybe you could have just acted like a normal person and cried and begged for your life.

by the time matt — a dear friend — had swooped in and saved the day, you were certain that dex wouldn't kill you. he'd thrown something haphazardly after you once matt got him a safe distance away, but you couldn't tell anyone that, least of all matt. by god, how could you begin to explain?

"no, matt, he wasn't going to kill me. what was he doing here? he was here to kill me. but don't worry! he changed his mind!" is that what your line was?

as for exactly how dex changed his mind, you'd blame it all on the lack of oxygen getting to your brain from being choked.

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years went by and benjamin poindexter wondered if you were the same. he wondered if your smile lines had deepened; if you had changed your hairstyle; if you still smelled like an autumn evening. his leg bounced up and down in anticipation. the bus was nearly there.

calm and collected, dex got off the bus and went into the nearest thrift store he could find. after ditching the prison guard outfit in the nearest garbage bin, dex popped the tags off his new hoodie and sweatpants. thank you, goodwill.

in no time, he was off with a spring in his step, headed uptown to the cafe you spent most of your saturdays in. sometimes when he had a particularly awful saturday, he daydreamt of sitting beside you here.

despite being the most wanted person in new york city, dex passed through midtown without issue, with his head down, weaving in and out of people, like any other annoyed, overstimulated new yorker. because of course it was raining. he'd memorized the map to this cafe so many times that his feet took him there without much thought, even after all this time. the thought brought a rusty smile to his lips.

the cafe sign came into view and dex's steps slowed. he clenched his fists repeatedly, trying to keep his breathing steady. he could do this. he could talk to you.

he spotted you instantly: in the back corner as always, nose deep in a book, leg swung over the side of an armchair like a cat. you cradled a mug against your chest, cuddling against its warmth. you looked so cozy. dex let some very specific memories wash over him as he stood there, pretending to read the menu.

"fuck it," he said to himself. dex took a breath and steeled his reinforced spine, eyeing the armchair next to yours. he sat himself in it and grinned wildly at you.

"oh, um, hi," you greeted without looking, a smile on your eternally-pretty face, nose still in your book.

this stranger said your name in a voice that haunted your dreams and you froze. your blood ran cold. your eyes peeked over the edge of your book while your heartbeat was a stereo in your ear, and you met a set of fierce hazel eyes that you'd remembered all too well.

"hear me out," dex begged your name. it was quite the pleasant sound, you had to admit. he must have seen the horror on your face. "jus' wanted to let you know that i'm gonna be coming by tonight at eleven. want to apologize…for what i've done. gonna knock three times on the window, mkay?"

your stomach dropped, and your mug almost did as well.

"w-what?"

"'m home now." ben's cheek scars flexed as he smirked devilishly. "thought i'd come pay you a visit."

"you've already paid me enough visits," you spat with disdain.

"ouch, sweetheart, that hurts," dex softly mocked as he fake-cradled his arm. he leaned in low, lips right next to your ear. "i know you remember what happened last time."

you sat up abruptly, closing your book with a thump. dex caught your drink before it spilled, setting it down on the table beside you gently. you didn't have time to be grateful, instead doing your best not to look panicked to everyone else.

"really not tryna hurt you," he murmured. "i swear."

and with that, dex stood up and strolled to the door, exiting left and disappearing into the manhattan crowd outside.

by the time eleven o'clock had rolled around, your stomach was in anxious knots. you picked at the skin by your fingernails as you tried anything and everything to distract you: your favorite TV show, that book from earlier, etc. none of it could keep your mind from racing.

could you trust his word? probably not.

but something about the earnestness in his eyes was haunting. and he had chosen to spare your life before.

you were not entirely surprised when the tri-knock came at exactly 11:00:00 PM. it was your bedroom window, as you knew it would be. the same one he used to break into your home the night he tried to kill you all those years ago. the knock sent a thrill down your spine. you were frozen in place by it and its implications.

only after you took a shaky breath, and dex knocked thrice again, you scurried over to the window to unlock it. dex stepped into your bedroom and exhaled, smiling. he caught your watchful eye and clamped down his slight display of emotion. but he had to admit that it was nice to be back here again, surrounded by you.

shutting the window and blinds, you sat on your bed criss-cross applesauce, and so dex did the same beside you. your posture was razor-straight, rigid. he liked that about you. among many other things, now that he let his gaze drift over you.

he met your glare. "i'm so sorry…for trying to kill you. fisk made me."

your jaw dropped. "that's it?"

dex straightened, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. your hand landed on his knee. "w-what are you doing?"

you chuckled, inching closer to him with your hand resting softly on his thigh now. "i think i deserve a better apology than that, benjamin."

"you want me to beg?" dex asked lowly, pressing his nose to your neck, inhaling your perfume. part of you ached at the thought. "i'll beg for you, baby. i'll do anything for you."

your fingers gripped his thigh with authority, or maybe it was desperation. "tell me how sorry you are."

"fuck," dex panted. "'m so sorry, sweetheart, i never really wanted to hurt you. you're so good. too good for me."

"you purposely missed at the end — when you threw those pens — didn't you?"

a smirk slid across his pink lips. "i plead the fifth."

you laughed. you actually belly-laughed, and knowing he'd been the source, seeing the twinkle in your eye, ben poindexter could die a happy man.

"just wish i could make it up to you," he whispered, eyes pleading, like a sad retriever.

"dex—" you inhaled sharply when his lips gently attached to the delicate spot of your neck and began suckling. on instinct, your hand on his thigh began to move higher and desire began to pool in your core. dex swatted your hand away and moved to lay between your legs.

your mind was spinning with the wrongness of it all. never mind if he hadn't wanted to hurt you, what about all of the other things he'd done? what about—

dex's quest began with taking off your fuzzy socks and sensually kissing up the insides of your calves. you could think of nothing else with his lips on your skin, leaving trails of fire in his wake. he relished in the taste of the scented lotions and oils that were part of your nighttime routine — they hadn't changed. he reached your pajama shorts and hesitated, looking up at you.

permission? you could have laughed at the absurdity, but you found yourself nodding with anticipation instead.

dex made quick work of your bottoms, exposing your lower half to the cool air of your room and his greedy gaze. with no time to waste, dex's lips teased your inner thighs and vulva for an unbearably long time before he pressed a sloppy kiss to your leaking pussy. the whine that ripped out of your chest was pornographic in nature, and dex giggled like a kid at christmas.

"yeah, you like that, pretty girl?" he teased, tongue swiping your juices off his lips like it was sacred.

"dex, please," you begged. for friction, for some kind of release, for anything at this point. shame tinted your cheeks a shade darker.

he groaned into your pussy, tongue working on your lips, until he finally paid some mind to your aching clit. you weren't shocked that he found it so easily: he was bullseye after all. but the pleasure from his lips wrapping around it was euphoric. your back arched away from the bed, so dex's arm slid beneath you. a smile touched your lips when you realized this was his attempt at closeness.

"so fucking wet…just for me," dex muttered to himself, possession taking root.

his tongue prodded your clit with perfect precision. oh yes, he noted each and every one of your honeyed sighs and rolling shudders. dex learned your body language so well he had you coming undone on his tongue in seconds. your legs shook as you rode your way through it, moaning and mewling.

dex thought he'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

your fingernails scratched his scalp just right when you ran your fingers through his hair like that. he purred like a cat beneath your touch.

dex left open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive cunt, lazily lapping up your cum. "pussy tastes so good, baby. i knew it would."

you whined at the praise. "yeah? you think about me?"

a wicked grin appeared on his frustratingly handsome features. a thick finger pressed at your entrance. he gazed up at you, light-headed, waiting for your permission again. but you wanted an answer first.

dex whimpered, avoidant. "think about you every fucking day, alright?"

a beat of silence passed between you two.

"you're the only good thing i have."

your heart broke at his admission. there weren't any sort of words to convey what you were feeling. you reached down for him, your kind hand cupping his trembling jaw. you beckoned dex to settle between your legs at eye-level, and you laid a soothing kiss on his horizontal cheek scar.

next, you kissed his swollen lips. they were just as soft as you thought they'd be. he tasted of mint and you. your tongue dipped into his damned mouth and dex moaned as you explored him, grinding his clothed erection into your pussy. you kissed him hungrily, pulling at his hoodie, anything to get him closer.

dex nearly ripped his sweatshirt off, and you decided to take your top off too. he choked on air at the sight of you, eyebrows raised. you tugged his pants down so you were both naked and he could have died on the spot.

"please," he croaked.

"i know, baby," you cooed, cradling his cheek. you brushed your lips over his and he sighed in contentment, gripping your waist for stability. dex sat down, hand held out to you in invitation to join in his lap, and you accepted.

he kissed you like a man starved, with feverish, hungry lips and too much teeth. you didn't mind. he reached down between your bodies once again in question, fingers just barely dancing over your dripping cunt, before you were nodding and dex was slipping them in. the stretch of his calloused digits was delicious. dex's head fell like a dead weight against your neck and laid kisses there.

"f-fuck, dex, just like that, please," you insisted, voice high and sharp.

he had two fingers pumping in you while his ruthless thumb worked your clit, already nearing you to orgasm once more. his fingers curled toward him, reaching that spongy part of your insides. your breath hitched as you clenched tighter on him.

"mm, right there, honey?" he teased, gaining confidence now that your moans had become considerably louder. dex increased the pressure on your clit, drawing flawless circles.

"yes, please!" you were putty in his hands and you both knew it.

he chuckled erotically beneath your earlobe, occasionally biting it. "want me to make you cum again, pretty girl?"

you nodded, embarrassed, chewing your lower lip.

dex tsk-ed in disapproval. "words, baby."

"please make me cum again, dex," you sobbed.

the words made dex pause, bathing in the feeling of being needed, his eyelids fluttering shut in pleasure. he grinned like a maniac against your smooth skin.

"don't worry, doll, i will." he peppered tender kisses to your throat as he resumed fingering you. the relief almost made your knees go out and you subconsciously leaned further into his large frame.

"feels so good," you whispered. "don't stop. please don't stop, oh god."

dex grunted, nodding slightly. he kept his pace, pushing his long fingers in and out as you made a mess all over his hand. it was a mess benjamin poindexter sincerely didn't mind.

"'m gonna…" the muscles in your core pulled taut as orgasm washed over you once again. you collapsed against dex, who caught and cradled you as your legs continued to ruthlessly shake.

"that's it, good girl," he grumbled, planting a kiss on top of your head as you lay on his chest.

it took you a few moments to recover from the aftershocks before you lifted your head enough to catch his eye. your saccharine smile made dex melt on the spot. you traced his jaw absentmindedly, admiring his handsome, scarred face.

"thank you," you said bashfully, smothering your shame by capturing dex's lips in a lingering kiss.

"you are very fucking welcome," dex replied with a laugh, kissing you passionately. his fingers slipped out of you and you took an interrupting sharp breath, wincing slightly. "i know, baby, 'm sorry."

"'s okay," you reassured, readjusting your position on his lap. his erection brushed your soaked core and you both sighed.

dex smirked like the devil, bringing his juicy fingers up to your pouty, puffy lips. you opened wide for him, sucking his digits with hollowed cheeks. you tasted your syrupy coating on him and moaned, looking dex square in the eye as you did so. his mouth fell open as you licked his fingers clean, big eyes staring up at him, straight out of one of his fantasies.

when you were finished, you released him with an exaggerated pop! of your sinful lips. but your mercy ended there as you started to kiss along the side of his neck. dex was lightheaded.

you reached between you and gathered some slick from your pussy onto your fingers, then wrapped them around dex's girthy, veiny cock. he threw his head back and let out a choked moan of your name. he throbbed in your hand, length growing as you stroked him with each flick of your pretty wrist.

but as much fun as it would have been to tease him all night, that wasn't what you wanted right now.

you released your grip, positioning him against your cunt instead. dex couldn't breathe.

"not gonna last long, honey," dex confessed honestly, eyes flickering over you in hunger and insecurity. you nodded in understanding. he was in prison for nearly a decade.

you leaned forward and kissed dex slow and sweet, as you gradually sank onto his length, inch-by-inch. his leaky cock stretched you open to perfection as you swallowed each others' moans.

"hng, fuck, s-sweetheart, so fucking wet 'n tight for me."

you nodded with fervor, whines slipping from your beautiful lips, desperate to please him. "just for you."

dex shuddered, cock throbbing inside you. he wanted to scream that you couldn't just say things like that to someone like him, but he lost the willpower when he bottomed out inside you. your gorgeous eyes rolled back as his tip kissed your cervix. you steadied a warm hand on dex's left cheek and he nuzzled into your touch, as you began to build a fixed rhythm of your hips. his hazel eyes bore into yours with intensity and he rocked his hips against yours in tandem. he truly never wanted to leave this moment.

the only sounds that filled the room were the obscene schlucks of your pussy as you rode dex and the feral moans that the two of you coaxed from each other. your unoccupied hand ended up intertwined with dex's much larger one, fingers interlaced.

he took one of your nipples into his mouth, biting and suckling. the pain-pleasure mix sent a fresh wave of heat down to your core and you moaned uncontrollably with your bottom lip sucked between your teeth. the noise encouraged dex, who was a mess of his own, to continue mouthing at your tits and fucking up into you. his breathing was ragged now, as he snaked his precise fingers down to your clit once more.

"yes!" you whined. "fuck me, baby, please. just like that."

dex grunted. "yeah, you like that, beautiful? like having me deep inside you like that?"

"mhm!"

"mm, 's what i thought. look so pretty taking me nice 'n fucking slutty."

you gasped, preening at his explicit praise. he smiled up at you like you were the sun in the sky, sweat beading on his temple.

the familiar knot of tension in your abdomen was building. you could feel yourself getting wetter, the glide of his cock having so little resistance it should have been blasphemy. dex's cheeks were flushed, his intertwined fingers sweaty, his legs trembling.

you maintained your steady pace, licking a stripe of sweat from the base of his throat to just below his ear. dex whimpered and it's the sexiest sound you'd ever heard.

"f-fuck, baby, 'm close," he warned, trying to compose himself. "pussy just feels t-too fucking good. so fucking good."

"it's okay, dex," you said, laying another sweet kiss to his lips. "it's okay."

and something about your tone of voice, coating the "it's okay"s like honey, told him he was safe in your arms, and sent dex straight over the edge in hysterics. he crashed his lips into yours like a desperate teenager. you found it oddly charming, smiling against him. he moaned pathetically into your mouth, murmuring nonsense praise, while his cum spilled deep into you. his cock pulsed as your overstimulated pussy milked him dry.

your climax hit you violently at the sight of dex's red-rimmed, teary eyes. you wondered just how long his body had been deprived of that. you clung to him, trembling, as you rode out your high, leaving a juicy white ring around his cock that dripped onto his balls below. you were still holding hands — the grip suffocating.

you turned dex's gaze to yours and languidly licked up his tears. it almost made dex cry more — your kindness — but he methodically slowed his breathing with every bit of will power he had. and then you were kissing him and his cock was twitching inside you and he was dizzy all over again, but he was exactly where he wanted to be. his mind was dead silent.

you would figure out the mechanics of this tomorrow. for now, you were falling asleep with dex buried balls-deep inside you.

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a/n: hello again from the ether!! my goodness this was fun to write. sry it took so long to my lovely requester, since i wanted to give it my all, i took my time! i would suck this man dry à la capri sun. like mouth is actively watering. ugh. every day i wake up and thank god for wilson bethel.

i've decided to make this an ethel cain series because i think that fits dex horrifically well sometimes lolll

as always, pls lmk your thoughts! and as always, asks and requests r opennnnn!

xoxo, b

poindextergirl™ 2026. do not feed my work into ai, repost, or translate my work. reblogs are very much appreciated! ♱

[marvelimaginesyesplease]

Chokehold

Benjamin Poindexter X F!Reader (18+)

TAGS/WARNINGS: PUURRREE SMUT GUYS, MDNI, fighting, lowkey cnc, stalking, possessive Dex, handjob, fingering, controlling!Dex, cumplay

Synopsis: Dex cares about you…maybe too much. What’s the harm in looking out for a friend though, right? Right…?

Benjamin Poindexter has got you in a mean chokehold. Thick bicep flexing around the soft expanse of your throat, calloused fingertips pressed into your scalp, your hair curled around his fingers in a way that burns. It hurts, all of it. The way his other hand has your wrists pinned behind your back, grip so tight it feels like the bones are grinding, bruising in real time. Your breathing is laboured, choked sounding, as you struggled to swallow despite the way his muscles are constricting your throat. You can taste iron, though you’re not sure if it’s his blood or your own.

“Don’t move-” It’s a command, his voice low in your ear, breathing laboured as his chest presses against your spine. “Make one more god damned sound and I’ll snap your neck.”

The threat has anger coiling behind your ribs, your lip curling, teeth bared. You’d have snapped back at him if your windpipe wasn’t being crushed. Dex’s lips brush against the soft curve of your ear as he tries to catch his breath, and you try to wrench your head away from him, disgusted with yourself for having let this animal get close enough to you to have you in such a compromising position.

But Dex can feel your muscles tensing, your rigid stance beginning to shift as you struggled to control your breath. His grip was too tight, and he could feel you fighting to take in a deeper gulp of air. But if he let you go, you could scream, reveal his position, maybe even-

You jerked forward in his grip and Dex’s hand tightened in your hair, another warning.

“I’ll let you breathe if you promise not to scream,” His tone is mean, biting, as he forces your head back. Maybe it’s mocking, animalistic even, but he lets his canine graze the soft flesh of your ear, relishing in the way your body tenses. “You make a fuckin’ peep and I’ll snap your pretty little neck. Got it?”

There’s silence for a beat. Two beats, nearly three-

“Nod your god damn head if you understand me,” He snaps, though his voice is still a whisper. You nod, the smallest of movements in his vicelike grip. Dex shifts then, his grip loosening in your hair as his arm releases ever so slightly. Your throat is no longer pinned in the crook of his elbow and you take in a gulp of air, a ragged breath escaping you as your breathing levels out.

“There there,” His tone is condescending as he shifts his stance, turning so that he can grin at the top of your head. “That’s it.”

You’re still shaking in his grip, though the anger is now laced with fear. “What do you want, Dex?” Your tone is biting despite the circumstances that’s got you vibrating in your neighbor’s grip.

Dex is silent for a moment, seemingly mulling over what he’d like to say to you. “You weren’t supposed to find out about this,” He finally laments and you nearly scoff.

“That you were stalking me? No shit.” Dex’s grip around your throat tightens again and you hiss, eyes snapping shut. You should have stayed silent.

“Don’t be so-” He huffs before he’s stretching his neck, shoulders flexing like he’s trying to get comfortable. “Condescending, Y/N.” He sucks on his teeth, feet shifting as he taps a rhythm against your wrists. “This wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

“You’re an asshole,” You wheeze, back arching as you try to crane your neck, desperate to be free from this lunatic’s grip. He only laughs behind you. It sounds dry, unamused, bored even.

“Maybe,” His lips are against your ear again. You hate the way goose bumps ripple across your skin. A breathy chuckle escapes him and his warm breath ghosts across the skin of your collar bones. It seems as if he’ll say more, but instead Dex stays silent, fingers flexing against your wrists like he’s deciding whether or not he’ll release you.

Ultimately, he decides to, thick bicep slowly straightening as he releases you from his vicelike chokehold. Your head tips forward, and you swallow, a dull ache now present in the muscles of your throat. You suck in a lungful of air, acutely aware of how tense Dex is behind you. He hasn’t released your wrists yet, instead allowing his free hand to drift across your shoulders as he mulls over what he should do next.

“Why me?” The words escape you before you’ve properly thought about how they could impact the obviously unwell man behind you.

Dex is silent. You try to crave your neck to see him, but his hand is suddenly gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze forward. You hiss, his grip bruising as he keeps you in place.

“Keep your gaze forward.”

You breathe hard through your gritted teeth, jaw flexing as you try to control the anger simmering beneath the surface. “You don’t have to manhandle me so much.”

Dex sucks his teeth again, index finger tapping a soft rhythm against the corner of your lip. “You’re feisty. Can’t chance it again.”

You almost smile, the memory of your fist connecting with his lip replaying in your mind. He clearly hadn’t anticipated you attacking first when he’d pushed the doors of your balcony open and walked in like he’d owned the place. How many times had he done that? He’d seemed too comfortable, too smooth. Was it only when you weren’t home? What about when you were sleeping?

Realizing Dex was stalking you had been…jarring, to say the least. You’d known for months that something was off in your every day life, and you’d only recently started to put your finger on it. A stalker. You’d started watching everyone in your life more closely, waiting for a slip up, anything. You hadn’t expected it to be Dex, or maybe you’d hoped it wouldn’t be. The calm, calculated, handsome man who lived in the apartment above you. FBI. It made sense, right? He had the skills, the experience, the motive. But Dex had been nice, you’d even considered him somewhat of a friend.

But rounding the corner and recognizing the way the man’s shoulder’s shifted when you’d caught someone in the reflection of the window of a storefront? It impressed Dex. You were smart, observant, and your intuition was almost alarming it was so accurate.

You’d surprised him. Even more so when you’d stared straight through him, eyes fixed on where his should have been in the reflection and said one simple word; his name.

His full name.

“Poindexter.”

It was firm, resolute, almost…eerie. He’d frozen, heart in his throat, how had you caught him?

But before he could move forward, explain himself, explain that he was just worried about you, just wanted to make sure his neighbor was safe, that she was cared for, you were gone.

You’d taken off in a sprint, purse tucked carefully under your arm, breath laboured.

Fuck.

Where were you supposed to go?

Home, you realized. Because where else? He knew everything about you, because not only was he stalking you, you had let him in. Trusted him. Considered him a friend.

But home? It had everything you needed. You could grab your things and then run. Going to the police would do nothing. He was FBI. You were positive he had tricks up his sleeve, he was Dex-he was smart.

How had you been so dumb? How had you not known it was Dex?

Somewhere deep within you whispered that you were being foolish. You had suspected Dex for weeks, maybe even known it was him, but had foolishly hoped that just this once, maybe you were wrong. Maybe he was just looking out for you. He was charming, friendly, skilled. You enjoyed his company. Why would you assume something so big that it could ruin the very nice thing you had going with your neighbor?

Well, that tended to fall apart when he 1) stalked you, and 2) you tried to knock him over with a chair.

Dex had landed in your apartment like a lynx-smooth, silent, quick.

And you’d slammed your kitchen chair into his chest like you were an MMA fighter.

The fight only escalated from there.

You were proud of the way you’d handled yourself, more rage than fear burning through you as you fought the greying blonde. You’d landed a few hits, teeth bared as you fought to simply knock him down and have him stay down long enough to run again.

But Dex was strong, and skilled. He’d tried at first to simply subdue you-he didn’t want to hurt you, he cared about you. You were smart, kind, you’d let him in and listen when he was struggling. But you were also landing hits and your strength surprised him.

Eventually, he’d had to knock you down, use his full strength to keep you down. He hadn’t meant to be so rough, but you’d nearly knocked his jaw out of place. It was only fair that he knocked you back with just enough effort to get you into a position he could control.

But not before you’d bitten him.

“Fuck!” He’d nearly shouted when your teeth had sank into the muscle of his shoulder. He’d had to wrench you away from him like some wild animal, and he’d nearly snapped your neck with the force it had taken. His hand had been curled in your hair, grip tight enough to hurt as he’d pulled you off of him, his own blood coating your teeth.

He didn’t miss the way his chest had tightened at the sight.

You were tougher than he’d given you credit for.

But the tussle had hurt the both of you, and now here you were; back pressed against his chest, both of you bruised and bloodied, rage and betrayal coiled like snakes in the pits of your stomach. Dex, angry that he’d made such a fuck up with you, lip split and sore from where your fist had connected with it and you; betrayed and bloodthirsty because how dare a man pull such a cruel stunt? Was it what you deserved for having had faith that maybe just this one time, one would prove themselves to be good?

“Why?” Your voice was sharp, words almost slurred from the way he was gripping your jaw. “Why were you stalking me?”

You couldn’t see it, but Dex’s face curled into a grimace. He was embarrassed and angry with himself for having gotten caught. He had just wanted to make sure you were safe, that you were okay. You were too nice, listened too often to assholes who could hurt you, men who may try to take your time, time away from him.

His breathing was laboured, sharp, head buzzing with adrenaline-no, fear-as he tried to collect himself.

“Answer me,” You growled and suddenly Dex was pushing his pointer and middle finger past your swollen lower lip, the rough pads of his fingers heavy against your tongue. You started, nearly recoiling at the way he was silencing you, thicker fingers pressing past your teeth.

“Shh, just let me-let me-” Dex shudders behind you, stance shifting as he tries to collect himself. “Let me think.”

You blink, eyes wide. You could bite him, right now, leave him bloodied and injured with the way he’s got you situated. Two fingers pressed against your tongue, nose buried in your hair as he tries to collect himself.

You don’t, instead you find yourself trying not to flush with embarrassment at the way your spit is beginning to soak the digits. Your teeth press lightly into the skin, breath warm around him.

Dex lifts his head after a few moments, swallowing loudly behind you. The gesture doesn’t seem to be intentional in its sexual nature, and Dex seems to be genuinely lost in himself behind you, his anxiety obvious as it continues to climb.

“I-I didn’t mean to scare you,” Dex finally begins to speak, and his voice sounds different, somewhat smaller. His fingers flex absentmindedly against your tongue as he struggles to find the words, desperate to explain himself.

He couldn’t handle you leaving, hating him.

“It started out simple, I was just looking out for you. I was worried-” Dex lets out a shaky breath and you feel the way it shifts across the back of your neck. He licks his lips before he continues, “You’re too nice to people. Your exes, coworkers, hell even strangers, they try to take advantage of you.”

You frown, tongue shifting against his fingers as if to protest because no, you establish boundaries and are quite good at communicating-

But Dex’s fingers flatten against your tongue, silencing you. You try to swallow the spit that’s accumulating in your mouth but it’s difficult given the way he’s pressing into your mouth. You feel the digits press against the roof of your mouth as your tongue shifts, drool slipping past the edge of your mouth and down the corner of your lip, soaking his fingers.

The filthy nature of the situation is embarrassing.

Still, you squirm, ashamed at the part of you that’s thrilled by the way he’s got your wrists pinned, how he’s silencing you, and how desperate he sounds behind you as he struggles to explain himself.

“I care about you Y/N,” He says earnestly in your ear, sighing behind you. “I’m just trying to keep you safe. Can’t you see that?”

He was delusional, far more damaged than you’d originally thought, and fear prickled along the length of your spine. He genuinely believed he was in the right, that he was doing you a service, that he was a hero of sorts.

“Please,” His voice is desperate, near whiny. “Can’t you see that?”

You try to pull your head away from him, his fingers pressing too deeply into your throat, a breathy sound escaping you. You can’t speak, can’t answer him when he’s got you situated like this. If he pressed any further into your mouth you feared you may gag on him.

“I’m gonna move my hands, okay?” Dex’s voice is a bit more firm now as he speaks, his lips beside your ear. “Don’t scream.”

There’s a beat of silence before Dex begins to slowly slide his fingers across your tongue, pulling them from your mouth before he’s holding your jaw again. His hand is wet against your skin as he cradles your face in hand, his firm grip a reminder of the control he has over the situation.

Your tongue slides across your lip, the salt of his skin mixing with the iron of your blood.

“You didn’t need to stalk me,” Your voice is hoarse. “I was-” You sigh, frustrated as you struggle to find the words. “I thought we were friends.”

A little more, actually. You’d hoped he was interested and had fantasized about him more than you’d ever care to admit out loud.

“We are friends,” Dex insists, shifting closer to you. You startle, eyes widening as your hands brush against the crotch of his jeans. It isn’t intentional, you know that, it’s just the nature of the position he’s still got you forced in. Your wrists are trapped in his much larger hand, pressed against your tailbone as he shifts closer. “I just had to make sure you were safe-”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” You snap back, and it’s far more mean than you’d meant it to be. “That’s not what you were doing Dex, so cut the bullshit.”

You crane your neck to look back at him and for the first time this evening, Dex allows you to. You can only catch the corner of his face but what you can see startles you.

Pupils blown wide, greying hair moussed, drying blood at his temple, nostrils flared as he tries to catch his breath.

He looked…scared.

“Tell me why. Now. And be honest.”

Dex opens his mouth to speak again, stuttering over more bullshit before you’re rocking your head back, skull connecting with his chin. He curses, nearly losing his grip on you.

It aches but you snap at him again anyway. “Stop lying to me!”

“Fine!” He barks, and suddenly his hand is slipping from your jaw, long, slender fingers wrapping around your throat as he leans forward. “I don’t want to share you.”

You pause, eyes fixed on the wall ahead of you.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” His voice is a snarl, nasty, mean, as he talks down to you. “I don’t want anyone else spending their time with you. Listening to you, learning you, taking you away from me. I can do all of that for you. I can be there for you, help you, keep you safe. Isn’t that enough?”

You should be scared. More than that, you should be scared that you’re not scared. But a part of you, maybe the broken part that you should have addressed years ago, is flattered. Flattered that someone as intelligent, calculated and skilled as Dex has become so possessive over you. Flattered that someone so handsome was angry at the thought of sharing you.

So when you flex your hand and your palm flattens against the zipper of Dex’s jeans, right where his dick should be, and you feel him catch his breath, you don’t say a word. It seems innocent enough, like you’re trying to release some of the tension in your muscles, but Dex’s fingers flex against the smooth skin of your neck and you feel it-

Feel the way his cock flexes against your palm, the way it seems to jump to life at your touch.

Dex seems startled by it, swallowing loudly. “What’re you-”

He’s cut off when you cup him, grip tight as a strangled moan escapes him, face tipping forward against the back of your head as he momentarily loses control. Your pulse flutters under his fingertips, hands pinned between your ass and his front as you gently squeeze his hardening cock.

“Y/N,” Your name is a breathy warning on his tongue, his eyes wide as he stares down at your hand and how you’re palming him. This wasn’t what he’d expected, especially not with how angry you’d been with him only moments before. “If this is some sort of game-” He’s cut off when a strangled grunt escapes him, your thumb rubbing circles over the head of his sensitive dick. He can feel the wet spot forming in his jeans as his hips jerk forward, desperate for more friction, for more of you.

Was this mean? Maybe. Cruel? Probably. Maybe that should have startled you, but it didn’t. Instead, you continued to palm Dex’s growing erection through his jeans, thumb swiping across the growing wet spot where the leaking slit should be. His breathing was laboured, hot against your scalp as his hand flexed around your wrists. His grip on your throat was loosening, thumb coming up to drag across your lower lip.

If you could distract him long enough, then you could break free. That was the plan; use his attraction to you as an advantage, tease him long enough to have him let his guard down so you could escape.

Right.

Yes.

That sounded like a good plan.

Right?

So why could you feel your nipples hardening beneath your bra? And was Dex’s whiny, pathetic moans spurring you on? You could feel your cunt clenching around nothing, a damp heat beginning to flood the space between your thighs, goose bumps rippling across your skin at the way his breathing was shifting as he bucked into your hand.

Normal, you told yourself. My body’s just reacting, perfectly normal.

“Y/N,” He whispered, and it sounded broken. “Please.”

Oh, fuck.

You felt your chest tighten at how desperate he sounded.

Oh…was Dex a sub?

You found yourself screwing your eyes shut, trying desperately to will your body to just shut off and listen, to be scared of the situation, to be logical but Dex’s erection was full now and it was thick in your hand as your fingers traced the shape of it. Long, full, the kind that hurt you as they pushed into you, the kind that had you begging men to slow down as your nails sunk into their hips, the kind that had you squirming because of how good the burn was as they stretched you open.

But of course Dex was big. Of course the complicated, handsome, clearly somewhat insane man who was stalking you also had a huge dick.

And of course he was hard for you.

And of course he was panting and whimpering as he let his forehead fall against your shoulder, tongue lolling out as he lapped at your skin. And of course your name sounded sinful as his teeth grazed the gentle slope of your skin before he was biting into it.

“Ah, Dex!” You hissed, his canines sharp as they pressed into you. His only response was a breathy hum before his fingers were pressing against your lips again, gently tracing the shape of them.

“Open up.”

You didn’t mean to oblige, didn’t mean to moan softly as his fingers slid across your tongue, didn’t mean to have your eyes drift shut when he ground himself further into your hand. You didn’t mean to shiver when his lips pressed against your ear as you drooled on his fingers, didn’t mean to whine when he slid his tongue across your ear, or cry out when he pressed his tongue into your ear and started making out with it.

Oh, fuck-

Squirming didn’t help, didn’t sway him as he continued to lap at your ear, thumb hooked under your chin, two fingers pressing into your tongue as he kept you still for him. He was rutting gently into your hand, tongue wet and hot as it slid over the shell of your ear.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I imagined what you’d sound like once I got my hands on you,” Dex’s voice was deep, breathy, shiver inducing as he spoke gently to you. “How many times I imagined it was me touching you while I listened to all the pretty sounds you make when you make yourself feel good.”

Your eyes snapped open, startled at the realization that Dex has been spying on you while at home. You struggled to speak against his fingers but Dex just tutted in response. “Mm mm,” He hummed, gently pushing your tongue down. “Stay quiet for me.”

The action had heat flooding your core. The lack of control had you sinking into his grip.

“I want to make you feel good,” Dex begged in your ear, nose brushing against your temple. “Please, Y/N, let me make you feel good.” He gently withdrew his fingers from your mouth, spit soaked and shaking slightly as he gently pressed them against your cheek. He was silent as he waited for you to respond.

You paused, heart hammering in your chest as you mulled over your options. Dex was buzzing behind you, acutely aware of the infinitely thin ledge he was currently toeing with you.

He only breathed a sigh of relief when he felt you shift to curl your fingers around his belt buckle and tug, hands still trapped behind you.

“Take these off,” You murmured and Dex swallowed, hand still wrapped tightly around your wrists. He couldn’t let go, fearful you’d run, his need to control control control overruling his desire.

Dex shuffled back half an inch, eyes dark as he began to fumble with his belt buckle. He was watching your hands flex in his grip, finger tips tracing the obvious bulge in his jeans as he struggled to pull the belt free. It took only a few moments despite the slight shake in his hands, before he was watching with bated breath as you pinched his zipper and tugged.

“Dex, help.”

He felt like he couldn’t focus, heart in his throat as he unbuttoned his jeans, watching the way you tugged the zipper down and pushed past the fabric, fingers slipping beneath the waist band of his briefs and then-

Dex should have been embarrassed at the sound that escaped him when your fingers wrapped around the thick shaft of his dick. He should have been embarrassed with how his hips jerked forward when your grip tightened, the weight of him heavy in your palm when you pulled his dick from his pants started jerking him off. He should have been embarrassed at how turned on he was watching your fingers trace the flushed tip of his cock despite the fact that he was still holding your wrists in his other hand, how your hands were still being held behind your back, how big his dick looked in your smaller hands, and how he couldn’t peel his eyes away when he started gently bucking into your grip.

“Dex.”

He realized you’d been gently calling his name and he whimpered, cock flexing.

“Hm?” He hummed, half lidded gaze lifting to the back of your head.

“Spit on it. Spit on my hand.”

His cock jumped in your hand at the lewd command and he damn near busted in that moment.

“Y-yes m’am,” He finally managed, tongue sliding across the back of his teeth before he was gathering his spit. It was filthy, the way it sounded as he tipped his head forward and spat onto the length of his cock and watched as it slid across your fingers. Even filthier still when you began to jerk him off again, using his own spit as lube.

Dex’s eyes snapped shut, head falling forward as he cried out, hips stuttering at the brutal pace you’d set. It was somewhat awkward, your hands still forced behind your back, the tip of his cock pressed against your ass, his free hand moving back up to wrap around your throat as you jerked him off. He was a mess, breathing laboured as he whined in your ear, soft gasps escaping him every time the edge of your tight fist caught the sensitive tip.

He wasn’t going to last long, not like this. Not with his face buried in your hair and the scent of your conditioner flooding his senses. Not with the way you were tightening your grip on him. Not with the way your own breathing had shifted, or how you were encouraging him to let go.

“That’s it Dex,” Your voice was so god damn soft, so you, so- “That’s it baby, does that feel good?”

He ruts forward at the pet name, fingers flexing around your wrists.

“Uh huh,” It’s breathy, needy. Embarrassing.

“Is this how you wanna cum?” Your voice is like honey, though somewhat condescending and Dex feels like he may keel over. His cock is unbelievably sensitive in your firm grip, the obscene shlick shlick sounds drifting upwards as you continue to tug on him, precum and his own spit mixing across the thick length and flushed tip.

“D-do I have a choice?” He manages, and he tilts his head forward, pupils blown wide as he stares down at your chest. Fuck, you look good.

He can hear the way you grin as you answer; “No.”

Dex can’t help himself, can’t help the way his hand shifts from your throat and slides down your chest, how he palms your tit through the flimsy fabric of your tank top, can’t help the way he tugs the cup of your bra down so he can let his fingers drag across your nipples. He can’t help the way he feels your arch in his grip, chest pressing into his hand when he pinches your sensitive peaks, or the way his grin turns sinister when your body so clearly responds to him.

He knew you liked him, knew you wouldn’t deny him, knew you were his. Filthy, desperate, needy, just like him. All his.

No one else deserved to have this, have you. You belonged with him, to him.

“That’s it,” His voice is soft, though the tone is almost cruel as he tugs your top and bra beneath your breast, pushing it free and leaving you exposed. He lifts his hand to your mouth once more and taps your lips, encourage you to open your mouth. You oblige, a soft sound of surprise escaping you when he forces his fingers into your mouth for the umpteenth time that evening. “Suck.”

You do, eyes drifting shut as your tongue slides across his thick fingers, cheeks hollowing as you suck him further into your mouth. You can hear the way Dex moans behind you, body sagging against you as he ruts more aggressively into your fist. Needy son of a bitch.

He pulls his fingers free from your mouth with a wet pop and you whine softly, though it’s replaced with a loud gasp when he begins to toy with your exposed nipple, coating it in your own spit.

“How’s that, hm?” His voice is barely above a whisper, blonde scruff dragging against the soft shell of your ear as he speaks. “Feel good?”

Your head falls back against his shoulder, grip tightening around his cock as you momentarily surrender to the pleasure. Dex shouldn’t have known these things, known exactly what got you going, but clearly he’d been stalking and watching you for far longer than you’d realized.

A particularly sharp tug has you gasping, eyes snapping open.

“Answer me.”

You nod, thighs clenching at the harsh treatment, before answering: “Y-yes Dex, it feel’sgood.”

“Good girl,” It’s a purr in your ear, his voice smooth as velvet as he continues to palm at your chest. Your eyes drifting shut, mouth falling open as Dex continues to fuck his cock into your slick fist, his grip still bruising as he holds your wrists. It was filthy, abhorrent, the way he seemed to be using you to pleasure yourself, and yet you found yourself growing needier, pussy soaked, as time wore on.

You moaned softly as Dex’s large, warm palm began to smooth down the expanse of your rib cage and over your stomach, fingers dipping into the waist band of your pants.

“This what you want, huh?” He asks, near breathless. You try to turn to him, to catch his gaze, but he’s got his chin on your shoulder, eyes glued to your arching body. “Filthy girl, so needy for me, pretendin’ she’s mad that I know her.” His hand slips below your jeans and you gasp, suddenly nervous. “That I need her.”

“Wait-” You startle, trying to straighten. “Dex-”

His fingers are suddenly sliding between the slick folds of your pussy and you cry out, startled by the sheer amount of slick to be found, and how fuckin’ sensitive you are.

You hadn’t realized how needy he’d made you feel until his middle finger was gently sliding over your swollen clit.

“Fuck!” It was a gasp as you arched, head pressing against his shoulder.

“Don’t try and stop me,” He snarls, and the animalistic gaze that meets yours when your eyes open should have scared you. You know that, that Dex should scare you shitless, but instead you find yourself clenching around his fingers as he pushes two into your aching cunt.

“Gah, Dex!” You nearly sob, fist tight around his dick as he begins pumping his fingers into you, palm pressed flat against your swollen clit, an embarrassing amount of slick now covering his hand and fingers.

Dex curses, hips jumping forward, before he turns to press his lips against your ear, merciless as he begins to work you open.

“I know you more than you know yourself,” It’s a growl, a warning. “Let me in. Let me take care of you.”

The pace is brutal, filthy, the wet sounds of his fingers pushing into you are obscene as they fill the dark expanse of your now messy apartment. You’re on the tips of your toes, back arching, head pressed into Dex’s shoulder as his palm pushes against your clit. Your breathing is laboured, whines and praise freely escaping you as Dex works you up faster than any man ever has.

“D-Dex!” It’s a warning, your thighs shaking, as you struggle to continue to pump his cock, eyes blurring with tears as your orgasm builds at an alarming rate. You want so desperately to continue to pleasure him, his cock unbelievably hard in your fist as he forces you to ride his fingers.

“That’s it pretty girl,” His voice is shaking with the effort he’s putting into making you cum on him. “Gonna watch you cum all over me, all for me, yeah? Isn’t that what you want? Do it, fuckin’ cum for me. All over my fingers-” He tilts his head, grinning as his lips brush against your ear once more. “Before I fill you to the fuckin’ brim with my cock. See how pretty you look when I stretch you open.”

His voice sends you over the edge with a loud cry, eyes squeezed shut as begin to shake in his firm grip, thighs desperately trying to close around his thick fingers. But Dex doesn’t slow, doesn’t stop as he continues his brutal pace, fingers pushing into your fluttering cunt.

“Keep touching me baby,” He pleads, breathless when he finally, finally, releases your wrists and wraps his hand around your throat again, keeping you pinned against him as he forces you to ride out your orgasm.

It’s overwhelming, overstimulating as you clench around his thick fingers, and you feel delirious when Dex is suddenly grunting in your ear, hot ropes of cum spilling across your hand and the back of your ass as he cums into your fist. He’s still pumping his fingers into you as he cums, whining in your ear as he ruts into your hand. You try, desperately to make sense of what’s happening, to gather your thoughts and do something, anything, as you come down from the high but instead you’re sinking against him, watching with bleary eyes as he pulls his hand from your jeans and-

God, you came so hard you fuckin’ creamed on his fingers and you can see it-

Dex’s pupils are blown wide, eyes half open as he pushes his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean. He moans, eyes fluttering shut, tongue lapping at the digits like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted and it has you licking your lips.

Dex keeps his eyes on you as he hand slips back into your jeans, fingers lazily pumping into you for a few moments, ignoring the way you wince and cry out softly, before he’s bringing his cum soaked fingers to your lips once more. He taps them-

once.

twice.

“Open up.”

You do, moaning softly as he presses his fingers against your tongue once more, the sweet, salty taste of your cum flooding your senses.

“That’s it,” Dex coos, voice unbelievably soft as he urges you on. “Such a good girl for me.”

He gently pulls his fingers free from you then before resting them against your lips. You have only a moment of rest before Dex is suddenly kissing you, breath hot as he laps at his fingers that are still pinned between your mouths.

You groan, mouth opening as you lick at his spit and cum soaked fingers, your tongues dancing and lapping at one another’s and around his thick digits. It’s wet, needy and unbearably hot. Despite the fact that he’s released your wrists, you keep them behind your back, still holding his softening, cum soaked cock in your hands while you kiss around his fingers.

Dex pulls back after a while, breathing heavy, a thick line of saliva attaching his swollen lips to yours, his pupils blown wide as he watches you. There’s a long stretch of silence as you regard one another, your breathing levelling out as you relax in your stalker’s embrace.

“I will not share you.”

Unfortunately, you’re starting to like the sound of that.

[romantacysblog]

Im going feral. I don’t know what to do with myself.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

18+ freaked out sex with dex

fem! reader, mdni. 1030 words. cw: switch dex x switch reader, spit mentions, throat holding, hair holding, face holding, scar licking, cowgirl into missionary, pinv sex, just general filth.

benjamin "you're mine" poindexter who likes to enforce the reminder that you are in fact his. it comes as a given with dex, that you belong to him, though he can't help but sprinkle it in. doesn't matter whether he's beneath, above or beside you, if it's morning, noon or night, that same notion still stands: that you're his.

it comes out gruff, a low decibel coo against the shell of your ear as he times it with a firm pump into your cunt above. it's strategic, the way he murmurs filth against your mouth— like he knows it to be something your body will respond well to. and it always does, without fail. 

you sit atop him, cunt taking his cock comfortably from beneath. you're in close, stomach pressing against his ever so slight pudge, tits sandwiched with his chest below. your hips seemingly with a mind of their own as you wind and rock over his groin, movements desperate and depraved — almost like you're utterly uncomfortable with your own wicked need. that's what a few days apart does to you, it takes a toll on both you and dex.

tonight, you're particularly handsy, far more than typically normal. and so with these antsy hands of yours, you're clasping at dex, at his neck, at his face, whatever it is that you need in that moment. you then settle one on the sheets above the swell of his shoulder, and the other just over his chin; palm hooked above it with your fingers extending out, tips reaching that thick scar on his cheek.

he in turn holds you close, large hands settled on your waist — grip directing your winds and grinds over his aching cock. the inners of his thighs hook at the outers of your own, legs bent and pressure firm as if to keep you close, close as humanly possible with his lounged position against the headboard.

your grip intensifies around the lower of his face, and it's then your thumb and fingers dip further into the hollows of his — pressure making his lips part against yours. his breath is ragged against you, pants hot and desperate in a way that matches your own. 

you itch in slightly and brush your lips over his. though you don't connect them, instead they ghost his, mouth agape as he swallows the gasps he earns from you with each pump he fucks up into you with. each upward wind making you splutter on choked-out whines.

with your mouths merely connecting, you swipe your tongue over his bottom lip and then nip at it, latching on lightly. you hold it between either set of your teeth, tugging on it with the most gentle of pressure. he chuckles, noise low and lewd while his pawing tightens around your waist, his grasp growing with extremity. desperate hold guiding you down on onto the cock he dicks up inside you.

you release your toothed hold from his bottom lip and press a kiss to where you had momentarily bitten into, giving him something slightly sweet and heartfelt. though your kisses drift from his bottom lip and teeter outwards, reaching his cheek. pointing your tongue, you trace over his scar — trailing the joined fusion of skin. haste non-existent.

but that's short lived and you soon feel absence grow around your upper hips. 

instead, he places them around your neck, one on the side, one nearing the back as he directs you to meet his eyes once more. he's mindful as he tugs you, thick fingers encompassing the base of your throat like it was no effort at all. he lowers you down, making you meet his lips so he can speak against them. 

"you're my dream girl," he utters, voice low and gruff. it sounded honest. or as honest as you believe dex to be capable of.

"yeah?" you hum, smiling against his lips.

the hand around the back of your neck itches upwards, fingers swirling at the root of your hair at the base of your neck. and it's then that he gives it a considerate tug. his hold like an effort to keep you close, to keep you right there.

"yeah," dex affirms, eyes cast up at you — gaze heavy and wanting. He nips at his own lip, it's like a redirectional effort for the slipping self-control, you believe.

his hands snake from their placement and pause at the either side of your face, grasp encompassing your head within two of his very thick hands. he retains your position and itches up to meet your lips; the connection rough and sort of desperate as deep breaths muffle between from either one of you.

your winds grind to a gradual halt when you feel dex's hips still beneath you, the motion of his upward fucking ceasing completely. you pull back to look over him, like it was to question the reasoning for such a sudden stop. though by the time you're able to figure out what his expression meant, he's pushing you backwards, grip firm on you as he repositions with you — cock still plugged inside you. 

he lays you down, pushing you back just under 180 degrees so the position you're each in is the same, only reversed. he's on top, like how you were only a mere moment ago.

his hands have since retracted from the sides of your face and one instead finds itself anchoring your pinned wrists into the mattress, his hold keeping your interlocked pinkies above your head. though the other has situated itself at the top of your throat, just under your jaw. he angles your face, making you look him in the eye as he rebuilds the pattern of thrusts from before. each one grows, and a system of deep and equally strategic pumps fall into place. 

dex keeps his eyes cast down on you below, gaze focusing on your growing fucked-out expression — the one that he's a direct cause of. and it's then that he nods down at you, encouragement building across his features as he gives your lower cheek a few light taps. ones that were again, some means of encouragement.

his thumb slips aside and reaches for your mouth, and it's there that he hooks onto your bottom lip, tugging on it slightly so as to keep your gasping mouth agape. he leans in nice and close, lips brushing past yours as he spits between them, laying saliva on your tongue for you to swallow. 

"attagirl," he coos against your parted lips, eyes as smitten as he can manage. "attagirl."

⎯ 𑄹 ⎯