when I see the words "cunnilingus" in the warning instead of doggy style
Is that even how you spell cunnilingus... ?? Idk I hope so...
trying on a metaphor
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Origami Around
Cosmic Funnies
Peter Solarz
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pixel skylines

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

JVL

izzy's playlists!

Love Begins
Keni

blake kathryn

roma★
tumblr dot com
ojovivo
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

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Kiana Khansmith
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
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@wandaloverr
when I see the words "cunnilingus" in the warning instead of doggy style
Is that even how you spell cunnilingus... ?? Idk I hope so...
Lessons on sex
Pairing: Scott Miller x Storm Par partner!reader
⟡ Main Index | ⟡ Archive for Earth-181938
a/n: Here’s my little “get well soon” gift for @kryptidfiles !! Imagine this wrapped in a huge bow with flowers sticking out from every side. EVERYONE GO FOLLOW HER BLOG and I hope you enjoy!!
Summary: You made the mistake of turning sex into casual conversation with your coworker and accidentally start the worst HR violation of your life.
Classification: Smut +18 | coworkers to lovers, several smut scenes, alcohol consumption, rude/arrogant Scott Miller, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, rough groping, protected and unprotected sex, doggy style, missionary, squirting, ass smacking, marking/bruising, praise, dom/sub dynamics, workplace boundary issues and emotionally repressed idiots in love.
Word count: 9,2k
There was a difference between good sex and great sex, the same way there was a difference between getting fucked and being made love to...
GACHIAKUTA ⎯⎯ ܔܢܟ ⨾.. JINKI IDEAS FOR YOUR DR²
look thru OHSXXNTA'S tool box && choose what item speaks to you most part 2⎯⎯ ❝ ONE MANS TRASH ; IS ANOTHER MANS TREASURE. use this post as a guide to help you figure out what jinki you'd like for your dr, my descriptions of each one are to give a general idea as to how far the item can be of use outside of its previous states conventional purpose, everything can be changed and adjusted to your liking ++ i tried to include name ideas for this one
Rexsplode relationship headcanons ★
Rexsplode/Sloan x reader ✶⋆.˚
ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝
Sfw/nsfw headcanons
Reblogs and likes are appreciated `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹
every night is fanfic night if you're a whore like me
Without watermarks chapter 2) dat ass
fbi!ben poindexter has this bad habit of referring to you as his. it comes off weird to outsiders, occasionally, because you obviously aren't an object to be owned; you know, though, he doesn't mean it like that. in his mind, it's an equivalent exchange—he's as much yours as you are his.
my girl, he introduces you to colleagues sometimes. my perfect baby, he breathes into the space between you at night, sweat-slicked chest pressed to yours. so good to me, for me. in the mornings, while cooking breakfast: my pretty girl sleep well? mine, mine, mine.
and then, other nights, he's begging you to say it back, pleading for you to acknowledge that he belongs to only you, pressing your hands to his neck 'til your fingers wrap around it and euphoria fills his veins and you lean down to kiss him and call him yours. when he's bored, maybe at the checkout queue in the grocery store, or waiting in his car at a red light, he presses kisses to each of your knuckles, murmuring something against them you never quite seem to catch—i'm yours. my benjamin poindexter, you say once, in passing, and he's always hated his name, but he's just so flustered, cheeks flushed the prettiest pink, and just this one time, just this once, he might be okay with it.
or he overhears you talking to your friends when he's working in the other room—he doesn't mean to, really, he's just attentive, a good boyfriend—and you say you don't know how you got so lucky; you don't deserve your beautiful boy, and his brain short-circuits, because how dare you say that first part, and what did you call him? you don't make the correlation, though, that night, when he's somehow even more devoted to you than usual, telling you how obsessed with you he is, his gorgeous, gorgeous girl. must be a little pent up, you think, but you don't know how wrong you are.
after the events of s3 you don't expect him to come home, of course not. who walks out of that?
your boyfriend, apparently. much stronger than the last time you saw him, twice as built—you don't know what to expect from ddba!dex. he's obviously different, because that shit back there changes you, and not always for the better, right?
and yes, he's still your boyfriend, whether you're single or dating someone or you have a ring on your finger—not that it matters much, because if there is someone, he'll take care of them before he comes back home to you. neither of you will have to worry about them anymore.
and you're his girl, after all; even if you're scared or horrified or disgusted by his actions, you'll find yourself completely uncaring by the end of the night, when he's holding you in a headlock, firm bicep pressing into your airway and his chest pushed up right against your back. you're in tears, overwhelmed by everything you're feeling, everything you know is wrong (he's an escaped convict, for heaven's sake), and his breathless words are low and urgent in your ear—who do you belong to, c'mon, say it, that's right, my good girl—
and maybe he's a little scared that you'll still leave him after this, maybe he's gone too far. but you're lying under him, boneless, and his arms are braced on either side of you, and you push yourself up on your elbows (with considerable effort) and say, if he's still really yours, won't he kiss you again? and he smiles the biggest he has in a while, because he knows he won—and with you, he always will.
hi im back. sorry. i hate myself too. this man will be the death of me. 0.6k words
could you write a fic about dex having a blind girlfriend w heightened hearing like matt?💗
Your Heartbeat
Benjamin Poindexter x fem!Reader
warning: fluff!
A/N: This was so much fun to write! Hope you enjoy reading this🫶🏻
Just found your Noir content. Glad someone is writing for him. Noir and breeding kink? Been thinking about Noir fucking me in a mating press ever since he attacked Starlight in season 2. He can hold me down and choke me out like that any day.
MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: babe that fuckin mating press goes hard doesn’t it? goddamnnnnn. noir putting you in a mating press <333that whole thing with starlight was fuckin crazy i was clawing the walls
Rough grunts expel from BLACK NOIR’s nose with each sharp thrust, plowing into you from the angle the position provides. Folded up over yourself with no regard to your comfort, he’s got you bunched up in a way that pleases him. Heavy body leans over you, harsh hands on the backs of your thighs keeping you good and spread from him. You’ve certainly gotten more flexible since you’ve started fucking him. The edges of his armor dig into you, but you can’t even register it over the overwhelming sensation of being filled. Fat cock drives into you at a reckless pace, forcing air from your lungs as if its piston defines your diaphragm’s every move. You can barely breathe from being crushed.
There’s something different about his angle, not only is it mind-bending, tremors wracking through your body as your eyes roll so far back in your head they ache, but it’s the way he handles it. Grabbing you like he owns you, redirecting your body in any way he desires, muscling you into submitting underneath him so he can fuck your hole in peace when you squirm too much. Your cervix gets kissed by his tip occasionally, but he wants you to be still and take it. For his dick? You’ll do anything.
You let him mate with you. The way he’s fucking you reminds you of an animal. Pinning you down as if you’ll escape at your first chance, growls escaping him, possessively filling up your cunt with the wet sounds of a cock finding its home. Usually, you’re the dirty talker in the bedroom, but he’s effectively silenced you, yanking you into his bucks with his firm hold on your thighs.
It used to be difficult to tell what he’s thinking, but he can’t be more clear now. The stutter in his hips is a dead giveaway to his impending load, and usually this would be the point in which he’d pull out and fist his cock to cum on you. Stomach, face, ass, he loved to paint you. Instead, he’s keeping it in, not only that but he’s still moving. Like he wants to fuck a baby in you.
“Noir— Noir!” you scold, but he continues. Swollen cock bullying your insides as it twitches with need to cum. “Don’t you— don’t you dare—“ you’re able to get the words out, concentrating hard on forming a sentence when your brain is so empty. The idea of him cumming in you is appealing, but you don’t know how Supes work. You’ve never had that conversation with him. What if he’s not sterile?
Lips slot against your ear, and if you weren’t mistaken, you could’ve sworn they form and mouth the word “baby.”
BUT YOU FOUND A WAY TO KEEP ME HERE
no matter how many layers you wear, you still feel cold when you’re alone. you’ve started suspecting the feeling has very little to do with temperature. ۶ৎ
pairings ! lars lindstrom x fem! reader
warnings ! lowercase on purpose, reader can be read as neurodivergent, mentions of body image issues, mentions of past depression, non-sexual nudity, implied family issues i think, ooc lars maybe??, a little angst/comfort, FLUFF. english is not my first language!! part two of this ! title from: misuse oh — ethel cain.
author's note ! oh my god, this is long as hell and i lowk didn't know how to end this!!! please remember that my requests are open for any ryan gosling character!! please YAP ABOUT THEM IN MY ASKS!! PLWEASSEEE 🤧 ok thank u.
word count ! 3,9k words (so long i'm sorryyy).
since meeting lars, you’ve learned two things about him very quickly: he is devastatingly good at scrabble, and he knows how to chop wood.
you watch him outside sometimes through the kitchen window, sweater discarded and only wearing his flannel and white undershirt, splitting logs with repetition.
lars loves repetition. you think it makes him comfortable with himself; actions repeated enough times stop requiring conscious thought entirely.
you don't think anyone else has noticed that about him.
“...and you don’t use wet wood,” he explains one evening, crouched carefully beside the fireplace. “it smokes too much.”
you nod seriously like this is the first time you've heard this information. it is not.
Dad of the Year - Holland March x F!Reader [MDNI 18+]
Summary: You somehow waltzed into the Marchs’ lives one day and never left. You’re a strong, independent, and smart role model for Holly, and a sexy, demanding, and dominant figure for Holland. However, it’s not established that you're Holland’s serious girlfriend,... yet.
₊⊹content warnings: smut smut smut!! mdni 18+ only! established relationship between holland and reader (albeit a couple months), lowkey a mother figure to holly (she loves you!!!), domestic fluff at first, mentions of holland’s alcoholism and how he's trying to quit drinking, afab!reader, holland is pathetic, dom!reader & sub!holland, HE WHIMPERS A LOT!!! but sweet ending :) you hath been warned!!
.✦ ݁˖word count: 3k.✦ ݁˖
author's note: first time writing for holland, hope y'all like it!! computa make him whimper and cry during sex. ok love ya bye⭑.ᐟ
Idc, normalize kink shaming. Cause y'all be using “don’t kink shame” and “it’s fiction” to excuse being into incest, pedophilia, cannibalism, etc. Like, be so fr, you ship a 14 year old with a 30 year, want to get railed by your dad and want to see two brothers f*ck each other. I don’t engage with things fictionally that I don’t like/wouldn’t want to do in real life. Yes, I’m judging you.
inexperienced clark asking bestfriend reader how to make a girl feel good, and she teaches him how to eat her out (please make him so nerdy)
now………….this but party girl!reader with her sweet, kind best friend!clark who's just so desperate to fuck her that he'd be willing to do anything for her.
tags: smut, inexperienced!clark, uni!au, voyeurism, sexual tension, party girl!reader, perv!clark, munch!clark!! (1.6k+ wc)
—
clark didn't like to admit it, but he had a dirty little secret.
not the sort that would be a felony — gosh no. though it technically would've, if not for the fact he was eighty percent sure that you didn't mind it.
there was no real reason for you to have ever needed to approach him. a girl like you just didn't talk to guys like him without intention. pretty and so incredibly unattainable.
his brain short-circuited from the second you'd approached his desk that day. you were probably headed to someone else near him, he thinks.
but then a dainty manicured palm rested on his shoulders, gentle wafts of bubbly, sparkling berries and fruit fills his senses before he lifts his head. you're at his eye level. with your canines caught on your lower, glossy lip with a sheepish look on your face.
clark, right? think we could work together on our term paper?
it began innocuously. overnight cram sessions in the library, where clark had been mostly doing the work. you'd reward his work with overpriced frappuccino's and spent your time closely beside him.
study sessions then turned to staying over in your dorm room. a logical switch — comfortable and warm, endless refills of 3 in 1 crappy coffee, to list some of the benefits.
but that wasn't clark's favourite part.
it was how comfortable you'd begun to get around him. all sprawled across the rug across him, belly down on the soft pink, while he did assignments. he'd hum mindlessly to your endless rambles of nothing in particular. his gaze would occasionally flicker — to how your shorts would ride up too high on your ass, up to the back-and-forth swaying of your thighs. the gentle chimes of your anklet would mock him, tempting him to look.
and then there'd be times he'd watch as you'd whine about having a bra on, until you'd crack and ask him if he'd mind if you took it off.
WICKED GAMES…… sitting on your boyfriend’s lap proves a bigger issue than you thought
18+ MDNI
🏷️ fem!reader,hands free orgasm,sub!clark [0.6k]
You’re sitting on his lap leaning over the open laptop sat on the kitchen table,scrolling through a news article he called you over to show you and he’s calling on every power in the universe to help him not blow his load right here and now. You’re wearing those pj shorts that he wants banned from the house for this exact reason,the ones that your ass practically swallows up and leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Maybe if he just doesn’t look and keeps thinking about anything else he can play this off,maybe if he thinks about work yeah wor- oh god oh god why do you keep moving like that? Do you really need to be squirming so much to read an article? You’ve got to be able to feel him through his flannel pyjamas,surely? If he looks down he can see the outline of his cock nestled between your ass cheeks. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him,what was wrong with him? You must think he’s some sort of pervert,you can’t even sit on his lap without all the blood in his body rushing to his cock. It’s pathetic,he can feel his cheeks heating up as he thinks of you maybe pulling your shorts down,maybe even slipping him out of his pants,lining him up to your entrance and sinking down on him. You wouldn’t even have to move,he’d be happy just to feel your walls gripping around him,fluttering and twitching trying to accommodate his size,you’re always so tight and so warm and so we- what is your deal?! You’re doing it on purpose,you must be,each shift of your hips,the arch of your back as you place your elbows on the table in front of you,you’re torturing him! It’s embarrassing,mortifying really at how close he is,how he can feel his balls tightening with each little wiggle of your ass,how much he wants to thrust up into your softness and make a mess of himself. What would you say to him if you felt the wet patch start to bloom across his pants,would you scold him? Tell him he’s disgusting? Make him clean up the mess by wetting your fingers with it and have him lick them clean? Would you sink down on him anyway,ride him to another orgasm while his sticky cum clings to your thighs? He loves that sound,the thwap thwap thwap of your bodies meeting while he thrusts up into you,your arousal dripping down his balls. Would feel so good, so good “feels so good”. The words escape his throat before he can even register them,a pathetic whine as he ruts himself into you,one,twice. That’s all he needed,just that little bit of friction to have him soaking himself. “s’good s’good” he moans out,sitting up to wrap his arms around your body,pulling you back towards his chest,hands squeezing anywhere they can. He would apologise later,beg for forgiveness for being such a disgusting pervert,sink to his knees in front of you and take anything you wanted to give him but right now he needs to fuck up into you and cry into your ear as his body goes into overdrive,soaked cock twitching and already half hard again.
benjamin poindexter x fem!reader
synopsis your cat isn't a big fan of you bringing dex around the apartment
notes yes this is based on him feeding that cat in episode 4
tags humor, fluff, just for fun, pretty domestic, dex trying to reason with a cat, mentions of his past
wc 1.5k
Your cat despised him.
There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason behind it. Meeting the little beast for the first time went well enough, after all.
“Let him sniff your hand first.” You cooed at him as you held the furball in your arms.
Dex knew something was up before he even had his hand up to the tabby’s pink nose. It was in his narrowed green eyes, silently confronting him for his past transgressions against its kind.
DO YOU THINK I HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOU?
❝it's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender❞ part II. of something about you
pairing: dr. ryland grace x fem! reader summary: memories return to you and ryland as you both piece together your purpose and what you mean to each other. wc: 7.8k cross-posted to ao3 tags & warnings: mdni please! spoilers for phm. hella angst. slow burn. enemies to lovers. reader is still lowk mean af. recommended listening: about you - the 1975 & a special little playlist :)
'SUPERNOVA, [CHAPTER THREE]
-BENJAMIN POINDEXTER X READER-
⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; You decide to treat Bullseye to breakfast.
⋆ tags/warnings. Benjamin Poindexter x female!reader. SLOW BURN!!! Not sure how many chapters this will be yet (but likely a LOT)! LOTS OF PLOT SET-UP!! AGE GAP ROMANCE! LOTS OF EVENTUAL ANGST, FLUFF, AND SMUT! Reader's powers are weird. Warnings for mild body horror. Reader is an ex-avenger, originally an experiment by HYDRA, and naturally has intense trauma (and regenerative/healing powers through her blood! think deadpool just quieter and more depressing). Set during/after the AVTF manhunt for Matt and Dex. Writing this kind of artistically and as character studies for everyone. Dex and reader are doomed soulmates, she becomes his northern star. Basically two characters who do NOT want to be saved consistently being saved by each other...until they learn to live for each other. Eventual smut in later chapters. More about reader is revealed as the story goes on. I'm taking canon out back and beating it with a stick until it stops twitching. You can find this fic on Ao3 as well @/cupid360!
⋆ tag list. @xreader1989 @tvdumarvelhpsimp @xjyuto @gojoswhkre @not-the-teen-witch @cpuffz @memeorydotcom @kkkkisworld @astrozonaut @itsneversirius @urm0msoldcar @andi-o-geyser @vvitchesh3x @starlitflora @mewmew222 @redpool @njutul @skollinghunter @triciawritesstuff @noble-17 @spderless @cricketmeow @ancientbeing10 @sprinkles260 @lillycore @eternallovers65 @cicikinby @montagoves @yyiikes @benspoindexter @that1weirdweebgirl @she-elfworld @celleryxo @mistalli @badbishsblog @bitch-spaghetti-o (let me know if you'd like to be added 💛)
⋆ chapter directory. previous chapter / next chapter
♫ “I'm a winner, I'm a sinner / Do you want my autograph?” Breakfast In America by Supertramp
Poindexter is practically whistling in the corner of your bed. Almost like a cartoon character, you'd never guess this man would've been responsible for the murder of Vanessa Marianna Fisk. But, you suppose, stranger things have happened. Like super soldiers and aliens and the very blood in your veins.
He's twiddling his thumbs. You're grateful the man has seemingly given up on trying to rip the restraints around his wrists in half. You're positive that one more tug to the thin, cheap material that is your HomeGoods bedsheets would've resulted in the man freeing himself.
Every so often, you swipe a look at him over your shoulder. He looks pretty...content. Bored, even. Picking at his nails as he studies your room.
You put on a brave face and decide to focus on the task at hand- which at the moment, is frying an egg and buttering some toast. Probably should've asked him how he takes his eggs, lest he decides he's too good for sunny-side up and launches a frying pan at your head. You cringe at the thought. Ouch.
The sunlight is coming through the blinds, highlighting all of the dried and sticky blood to your clothing and his skin. Whole apartment looks like a murder scene, but hey, you guess it could be worse. At least there isn't an actual body.
Looking back over your shoulder, you catch him already looking back, expression unreadable. You quickly turn back around to this cursed egg that is taking much, much longer to cook than normal.
"That for me?" His voice cuts in without warning. You wince while you nod, turning your back to him so he can't see the pallor of your face. He knows who you are. You turn the spatula anxiously in your hand.
"...Your pan is too hot."
What.
"What?" You almost scoff, offended. You can cook a damn egg. You...you think. At least. The more you actually do think though, you realize there wasn't much room for eggs between H.Y.D.R.A torture chambers and saving the goddamn world. You feel your eye twitch, and his must twitch too, because his voice tightens at your disorganized approach to frying.
"The butter’s browning too fast." He tilts his head. "Egg'll crisp on the bottom before the yolk sets."
Oh, go fuck yourself. You don't say that though, because he's probably right, and your first ever hostage is giving you culinary tips.
"Is...are you joking?" You say, shaking your head, but he doesn't seem to take the social que to quiet down.
"I'm helping." He nods, smiling. The words are spoken more to himself, like he's proud. Leaning back, a crooked and pleased grin on his face. He rests and lounges into the bloodied sheet like a smug cat. "I’ve been told I should try to be more personable."
"Who told you that?"
"My therapist."
"Something tells me that didn't work out."
You don’t notice the way his jaw tightens at that. It’s quick, gone almost as soon as it appears, but something in the air shifts anyway. Subtly. Like a wire pulled just a little too taut.
The egg sizzles and you decide to begrudingly lower the heat.
"…There," he murmurs, watching the pan like it personally concerns him. "Better." Like suddenly everything wrong in the world has been corrected. He closes his eyes in pure satisfaction at the click click click of the burner knobs.
"Right. Cool. Awesome." You mumble under your breath. "You're lucky I'm even feeding you."
"That remains to be seen."
You pause.
"…You think I’d poison you?"
"I think," he says carefully, eyes flicking over the spatula in your hand, the pan, the distance between you, "you and Murdock are still deciding what you're going to do with me."
You clear your throat. "You don't really seem that...worried at the prospect of dying, Mr. Poindexter."
Mr. Poindexter? What is he, a teacher? He's a criminal. You should be calling him...an...an asshole! Yeah. You got this, Angel! WWDD. What would Daredevil do?
Leave you alone with a mass murder, apparently.
He cracks an eye open at the title, but makes no move to comment. But you see his lip curl with confusion at the polite, formal treatment.
"Go ahead. Doesn't matter what happens to me now. It's just an equation." He seems entirely more aloof and unconcerned at the idea of death-by-egg than he is at having it be cooked incorrectly.
The egg hisses in the pan as you slide it onto toast, more force than necessary. You turn off the heat and grab the plate, but you don’t move closer right away.
You step toward the bed.
“Okay, A-asshole!” you say again, stuttering, and momentarily curse yourself. Did your voice just crack? "Here’s your equation!"
You throw the plate down at his feet, and it slides pretty pathetically on the edge of the bed.
Oh yeah. That's badass. Total aura farm. In your defense, you were never in The Avengers for your offence skills. Steve would've never let you get ten feet in the radius of an actual fight. Your particular skillset was much more beneficial off battlefield.
His eyebrows knit together as he looks from the plate back to you. Clearing your throat at his clearly bewildered and confused expression, you take the plate and re-place it in your lap.
He waits expectantly for his restraints to be undone, to which you look at him like he's gone crazy.
Then he looks at you like you've gone crazy as you cut a piece, stabbing it with your fork and holding it out to him.
"…You’re not untying me," he says.
You blink. "Why would I do that?"
A pause. His eyes flick down to the plate in your lap, then back up to your face.
"So I can eat."
You stare at him for a second, then gesture vaguely with the fork. "You are eating."
“That’s not-” He stops himself, jaw tightening slightly. "That’s not the point."
You tilt your head. "What?" You scoop another bite of egg, unsure what to do, holding it up absently. "You were bleeding out in my bed and now you're worried about table manners?”
"I’m not worried about manners."
"Then what are you worried about?"
His gaze drops to the fork. Again.
Then the plate. Again.
Then the small trail of crumbs already scattering across your sheets like evidence at a crime scene. His fingers twitch once against the blanket, as if he wants to brush them away but knows moving too much will just make it worse.
"Crumbs," he said flatly. "Grease. You’ve got dried blood under us and you’re dropping food particles directly onto the sheets. Do you have any idea how unsanitary that is? Bacteria doesn’t care how convenient it is for you. They’ll set up shop in a heartbeat." His voice stays even, but the tension in his shoulders is obvious. "I don’t eat in beds. Ever."
"Oh, I'm sorry, princess. Here comes the airplane." You scoff, shoving the bite near his face. He let's out a sound akin to a growl, a huff of air, before deciding to let up take the bite. Success!
You slide the bite in. Then another. His teeth close around the fork with a borderline surgical precision, never touching the metal more than necessary. He chews methodically. Says nothing.
After he swallows, he exhales through his nose, breathing heavy. "This is ridiculous. I can feed myself if you untie one hand."
"And risk you putting a fork through my carotid? No thanks." You scoop more eggs, voice softening despite yourself. He lets out a scoff, lips twitching into something amused.
"You’re an Avenger," he said quietly. "You could've left me to die. Most people would have."
"Was an Avenger." You correct. "And I’m not most people." You lift the fork once more, waiting for a moment, letting him come to you. He does- leaning forward just enough, eyes never leaving your face.
"Still," he said, voice low and even, the way he spoke when he was putting pieces together in his head. "You could be out there. Could have the kind of life people like you are supposed to want." His bound hands shifted slightly against the cuffs, the movement small but restless. "And instead you're here. Playing nurse. Doing favors for Matt Murdock."
You don't miss the accusatory tone. The false righteousness in his own words. You pause, letting the silence settle. Then it kicks in.
"Wait- hey, are you profiling me right now?"
"You could be anywhere. Doing anything. Instead you’ve got a blind vigilante dumping half-dead bodies on your doorstep and you just…let him."
With another forkful of eggs, you deliberately leave a few more crumbs to tumble onto the sheet near his hip. His eyes track the falling pieces with visible irritation.
"Open," you say softly.
He stares at the fork for a beat longer than necessary, then leans forward just enough to take the bite. His lips brush the tines. When he pulls back, a tiny, glossy fragment of butter clings to the corner of his mouth. Without thinking, you reach up and wipe it away with your thumb.
You feel him go rigid. You pull back like you've been stung.
But he doesn't jerk away. He just watches you, breathing steady but shallower, like he's calculating the exact risk of every millimeter between you. Studying every plane of your face. Eyes zeroing in on the corner of your own lips before turning away.
"...You’re still making a goddamn mess," he says. The words came out rougher than before. Quieter.
"Yeah?" You finally pull back, if only to take pity and spare him from the germs. "You’ll survive some crumbs, Poindexter. Survived worse last night."
He refuses to look at you now, but you note the throb of the vein in his throat and forehead, fists wrapped around the restraints once more.
You watch him swallow again, this time with no real bite to go down.