winterwandersland

winter ❃ 22 ❃ she/her

[sendentaryworm]

Some wide angle shots I took back in the start of May. It was the transition of seasons and introduction of new palettes.

[blckgirlacid]

I need my weird alone time or I will explode

[junkfoodcinemas]

PREY (2022) dir. Dan Trachtenberg

[thehalfricanhoodpoet-deactivate]

I hope Black girls with anxiety have a good day today.

[antiblackness-archive]

I hope Black girls with depression have a good day today.

[beeorchids-moved-deactivated201]

I hope black girls with PTSD have a good day

[freshest-tittymilk]

I hope black girls with body dysmorphia have a good day

[thereluctantwife]

I hope black girls with verbally abusive parents gave a good day

[dittohasadhd]

I hope autistic black girls and black girls with ADHD have a good day

[midnight-soulless-system]

I hope black girls with schizospec and/or personality disoders have a good day today

[peanut-jelly]

i hope all mentally ill and or disabled black girls have a good day

[uriigamii]

I hope chronically ill & people pleasing Black girls have a good day today 🫂

[brellz]

[gutsby]

X

Summary: Simon finds your G-spot.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Disgustingly loving sex (sorry). Soft dom!Simon Talks You Through It™️ Creampie. Brief mention of Reader’s insecurities w sex

Note: I’m on Instagram now (kinda), come say hi :-)

Word count: 2.1k

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried before.

You’d had your fair share of lovers and experienced more than a good deal of fun. With everyone in the past, climax came the same way, every single time: clitoral stimulation, and clitoral stimulation alone.

By this point in your life, you suspected your g-spot was probably just a figment of your imagination, no more real than Atlantis, Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.

That was, until, you met your boyfriend, Simon.

And things had only been official for a week.

You and him had fooled around a handful of times—made love, as he called it, and kissed and cuddled and occasionally dry-humped until the two of you were both panting, groaning messes—but all of this was new. Simon was still learning you, as you were him.

He finished between your tits. You came on his tongue. He fingered you to the point of tears, and you learned how to touch his sac just right to get him to blow his load in seconds. On this night in particular, you were fucking missionary, and holding hands while you did.

Lovesick puppies, Price would say. Neither one of you seemed able to unglue your lips or unlace your fingers or keep your hips from colliding again and again and again in frantic search of the other’s furthest depths. You were perfectly wrapped up, with no desire to move

Except, you needed to reach down between your bodies to actually get off. That was a minor detail.

You didn’t think the man above you would mind if you moved your touch from his, but then that grip tightened the second you tried pulling away.

“Keep it there, lovie. Like holding you like this,” he said.

You enjoyed it, too. It was intimate, and sweet, and with your hands pinned on either side of you, locked securely in his, you felt safe. You just couldn’t finish.

“But I…I need to come,” you whispered against him. You rolled your hips and felt his cock twitch inside you.

Simon grunted, then swallowed. Nodded slowly.

“Yeah. I’ll get you there. Feel this?”

He slid deeper for emphasis.

You didn’t.

You rarely did, or at least not in the way you figured you were supposed to get when something pressed there.

“I think…sort of, yeah,” you hedged your answer.

Don’t bruise his ego, don’t hurt his feelings.

This is all on me, Si, I promise it’s not you.

Cutting in over your thoughts, Simon moved swiftly. Took your hips in his big, strong hands, lifted up, and plunged his cock to the hilt. The girth of him was enough to knock the air out of your lungs, and you felt your walls stretch, sting, and weep sweet liquid warmth around that intrusion. You moaned.

“Better?” The man’s question was simple.

Before you could answer it, he was sliding a pillow underneath your backside. Sawing his long, thick, leaking cock in and out of you, he reached a new spot.

You made a face, feeling good from that but…strange.

Simon snatched your hands up again and planted them beside your head on the mattress. He thrusted steadily. He peppered kisses all over your face and your neck while the bed frame squeaked in time, and you had to dig your heels into his ass to ground yourself.

“Talk to me, baby. Can’t make it better if you don’t.”

“I—I know, I just can’t—”

At the same time, Simon tilted your hips slightly once more, and the tip of his cock kissed something soft and wet and dizzyingly pleasurable inside your body. A loud, embarrassing cry slipped out between your lips.

You wanted to clap a hand over your mouth, hating the way you’d just sounded, but your fingers were stuck to his. Simon grinned down at you, toothy and approving.

“Can’t do what, now, darlin’?”

The warm, bulbous head of his cock had found its mark, and he just kept prodding that spot, like it entertained him to do it. The fingers laced between your own constricted their grip even more, and Simon leaned down to kiss you while his cock carved a mind-numbing path. In between kisses, he praised you.

“That’s my girl. She’s likin’ it now, isn’t she?”

“Feel good when my cock hits that spot?”

“Your pussy’s fuckin’ soakin’ me, baby.”

But still, somehow, it just wasn’t quite enough.

Maybe you’d never found that place after all.

This was where most men gave up—after a few good minutes of fucking when their balls had gotten to be as swollen as stones and their bodies were aching for release, more often than not, they’d go off chasing their own high. That was when you usually started rubbing your clit, or waited for your partner to finish so they could get you off with their tongue or something.

You hated to feel like a burden, and you really despised the thought of being the reason your sweet Simon couldn’t get to orgasm. So you squirmed again.

Straining to reach down, to try and touch yourself, you whimpered, “Si, please, it just—it takes me too long—”

“Good thing we’ve got all night,” Simon replied bluntly.

Then, once again, he twisted your bodies like you were as soft and malleable as putty in his hands, and this time, he hitched one of your legs around his hip, high.

With one slow-rolling thrust and an audibly squelching sound, Simon’s cock stretched your hole to maximum capacity, and then a little more. Your juices leaked down his shaft, aiding the slide, and he stabbed in a few shallow strokes. Probing. Testing the waters, as if he were trying to find something hidden inside you.

You sucked in a breath. Simon’s gaze slid to yours.

“Let’s find that precious spot, lovie. Easy, now.”

Gently coaxing your body open, he drove a slow, measured pace. He split your cunt like it was the easiest thing in the world, delving within your wet, velvety heat to tease every contour and crevice of your pussy. His tip leaked precome. His balls glistened in your arousal and landed with the gentlest plap, plap, plaps while he explored your insides with his member.

It really was as simple as that, nothing more and nothing less than poking around. Having patience.

“S-Si,” you stammered, nose wrinkling slightly.

“What’s’at, baby? Got something to tell me?”

Like a teacher, almost, he pressed for more.

Like his cock was showing you something new about your body but he needed your help to tell him just how and where to find it, Simon took care to be kind. He smoothed a hand over the crown of your head and then cradled the back of it, one massive set of fingers splayed out against your skull and engulfing it wholly.

He still held onto your other hand tight.

Your cunt pulsed. Ached. Fluttered around him.

Stuffed to the brim, you had only to feel, and murmur:

“Higher.”

“Higher?”

“Um, to the…to the left.”

Simon tilted his hips left.

Yes.

That was just it. So close.

Almost…

Or, maybe…

“Maybe it just…isn’t there,” you huffed out, deflating. “Know you’re trying so hard, baby, but I think I can’t—”

Then Simon hit the same spot as before, only higher.

Just like you’d told him: to the left, and then…

“Oh, fuck,” you cursed. “Oh, fuckfuckfuck.”

The grin above you stretched even wider.

“There, lovie?” Simon goaded you on.

“Right there.” You nodded furiously.

A wave of pleasure swept through your limbs, from your core down to the soles of your feet. Your toes curled, and you squeaked, feeling Simon’s cock graze that soft, spongy, sensitive place—except he’d pushed in deeper. The sensation made your eyes roll back.

“Little dove doesn’t mind my pokin’ after all, huh?” Simon’s words were a tease, but you heard a strain in them, too. The second you were caught in the throes of real pleasure, your cunt must’ve clamped like a vice.

“Keep…keep pokin’, Si,” you choked out. “I like it.”

Your lover kept at it—poking from the inside.

The routine almost felt like losing your virginity all over again, together. Simon cradled your head, told you how good you were doing, how sweet you were for him, and you whimpered under his hold. Squirmed and clung to him for dear life, then kissed him feverishly.

Simon’s mouth was hard and hungry, his thrusts deep. His cock throbbed within the wet, clenching confines of your pussy, and he seemed to be going wild at the feeling. With the idea that he was driving you wild, too.

You realized as much when he whispered it to you.

“Could lose my bloody mind when you’re like this—” Another sharp, labored breath. Another shudder passing through his body when your insides squeezed. “—so why didn’t you talk? Ask for what you needed?”

Your voice was small. “Didn’t wanna be a bother.”

Your eyes were locked with Simon’s, and in his irises, you caught a shade of concern. It flared, hot as anything, then mixed with disbelief. Disappointment.

“Don’t be angry, Si, I—” you started, hurried.

“‘M’not.” Simon blinked. But he gritted his teeth, and he withdrew his cock until the head was bumping and teasing between your folds, then he shook his head. “It’s those fuckin’ pricks who should be sorry, yeah?”

The ones that you’d been with before.

You wanted to protest, insist that you were at least partly to blame, but you never got the opportunity.

Simon was back inside you in a blink.

Hitting that same spot again, and again, and again.

He grinned, the tic of a muscle in his jaw telling you that he was less amused this time around, but proud.

Vindicated.

“Well. It’s not like they’re ever gettin’ a chance in between these pretty legs again, are they, lovie?”

You nodded in agreement.

You smiled back at him, only to have that gentle curve falter a little when you felt Simon’s thrusts accelerate.

“Only thing that’s gonna touch this spot other’n my cock is my seed, splatterin’ all over your walls, right?”

When he gave a playful nip to your lower lip and squeezed your hand tighter, you knew that he meant it. The man had plunged so deep inside you that his pubic bone was now grinding against your skin, and the rest of him was buried. His balls, all full and warm and heavy with his release, rested firmly in your cleft.

And the steady, measured strokes of his cock landed with near-surgical precision on the G-spot you’d convinced yourself up until tonight didn’t exist.

Simon beamed. You were overcome with ecstasy.

“This it, lovie? This spot right ‘ere?” he cooed.

His cock bobbed against that gummy and indescribably dizzying place, causing your last moan to morph into something more akin to a shriek.

You nodded your head: “Y-Yes. Yes.”

“Feel good when I hit it?”

“Fucking perfect, Si.”

You sighed when the man bottomed out for what felt like the millionth time, and the pleasure never waned. He felt just as good now as he did when he first got in.

“Yeah? Gonna come on my cock then, pretty girl?”

“Yeah. I’m— I’m so close.”

“Go on then, love.”

And, shortly, you did.

Maybe three, four, five more stabs of his cock to your most precious, intimate place and you were unraveling beneath him, stars bursting in your line of vision. It seemed dramatic to say, but that was really what it came to—your mouth hanging open, eyes wide, gaze peering into Simon’s while he fucked you through the most intense orgasm of your life. You clung to him, and your walls spasmed again and again and again, milking the man’s release in the next few seconds. Simon shuddered and grit his teeth as he unloaded a thick, gooey load inside, dousing that spongy, body-numbing spot and then some. The two of you moaned in unison.

Your body was boneless, your head a hazy mess.

It took several seconds for your conscious mind to come back online fully, and when it did, Simon was leaning in again and planting kisses along your face.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, breath fanning hot across your skin. “My perfect girl. You did so good.”

You smiled and caught his mouth for a proper kiss.

“Thank you,” you murmured against him.

Then Simon squeezed your hand—the one he’d been holding this entire time. He lifted it gently, like he was afraid too rough of a movement might split you in two.

He turned your wrist and kissed the back of your hand, eyes locked on yours and expression soft while he did.

“That’s what I’m here for, lovie.”

[momoboyds]

i need it to be friday already

[iiumz]

[goth-queen]

[aquaticmercy]

Be Brave

Summary : Dex is finally home, but his son doesn’t understand why his very scary daddy is so clingy with mommy.

Pairing : DDBA! Benjamin Poindexter x reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : FLUFF!!! Dad!Dex, Mom!Reader, canon-typical danger referenced, assassination attempt referenced, parenting, you and Dex has a son called Leo, attachment issues, clingy! Dex, husband! Dex, fatherhood, domestic, North Star! Reader. (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count : 2.9k

Requested by : anon

Notes : This can be read as a standalone fic, but it’s also connected to to another fic of mine! All you need to know is that this takes place between DDBA season 1 and season 2. You and Dex have been married since his FBI days, and you have a son named Leo, conceived during a conjugal visit. Enjoy!

Could be read as a one-shot, but you can read more stories in this universe here!

Leo had never met his daddy before Dex broke out of prison.

At least not in any way that made sense to a four-year-old.

For most of Leo’s life, Daddy had been a name in your bedtime story. A photograph tucked inside a book. A man Leo knew through your sadness, your smiles, and the way you sometimes touched your wedding ring when you thought no one was looking.

Then, suddenly, one night after the assassination attempt on Fisk’s ball, Daddy was real.

Daddy was tall. Daddy had a missing tooth and very serious eyes. Daddy wore a baseball cap when he went outside and crouched whenever Leo spoke to him, like whatever Leo had to say mattered more than anything else in the world.

Leo loved him. That part was fine. Accepting him as a fixture in his life was easy peasy.

Children had a way of accepting miracles without asking them to explain themselves. Daddy was home, so Leo held his hand. Daddy could fix broken toys, so Leo brought him broken dinosaurs. Daddy listened very carefully to the difference between a stegosaurus and an ankylosaurus, so Leo decided Daddy was smart.

And Leo loved Daddy because they had one thing in common: they both loved you. 

Leo loved that Daddy loved Mommy. That was not the problem.

Honestly, Leo thought it made perfect sense. Mommy was amazing. Mommy smelled like books and soap and the cotton she wore to the library. Mommy knew where the plasters were, remembered which dinosaur was which, and always did the voices properly during bedtime stories. Mommy could tell when Leo was sad.

So, of course Daddy loved Mommy. Obviously. 

Daddy loving Mommy was not confusing. But Daddy being attached to Mommy like a very large, very serious sticker was the confusing part.

Because since Daddy had come home, he had been very… clingy (he learned that word from your best friend, Uncle Jonathan). Leo noticed it immediately. Daddy stood too close to Mommy in the kitchen. Daddy followed Mommy down the hall when you went to get laundry. Daddy held on to Mommy’s waist whenever she walked past him, like he had to check she was still real. Daddy kissed Mommy’s forehead. Daddy kissed Mommy’s hand. Daddy kissed Mommy’s shoulder when she was making coffee, which made Mommy say, “Dex,” in that voice that meant you were pretending to be annoyed but were actually not annoyed at all.

And at night, Daddy was worse.

At night, when Leo was supposed to be asleep, Daddy slept in Mommy’s bed. Apparently it was also Daddy’s bed now, but Leo wasn’t ready to accept that.

And Daddy didn’t just sleep beside Mommy, but he was practically glued to Mommy!

Leo had seen it from the hallway more than once, when he was supposed to be asleep across the hall. You would be propped against the pillows, reading under the warm gold light of the bedside lamp, and Dex would be wrapped around your waist like he had been hired to keep you from floating away. His face would be half-buried against your chest, one arm heavy over your stomach, mouth pressing sleepy little kisses to your collarbone every few minutes.

You let him do it. You even smiled when he did, because you loved it.

Sometimes you put your fingers in his hair and scratched gently, and Daddy would go so still that Leo knew he liked it very much.

Leo understood affection. Leo understood love.

Leo didn’t understand, though, why Daddy was allowed to sleep with Mommy every night when Leo had to sleep by himself.

Because Leo had a room. Mommy had a room. Rabbit had a place in the dollhouse. The dinosaurs had their chest. Mommy’s library books went in her tote bag, even when you sometimes forgot three of them on the kitchen table. Shoes went by the door.

Everything had a place.

Except Daddy, apparently. Daddy’s place was just wherever Mommy was. He didn’t even have his own room!

This bothered Leo for days.

Not in a jealous way. More in a sad, practical way. Everyone needed a place. So one afternoon, Leo marched into the guest bedroom that had slowly become your office, pointed at the pull-out sofa bed and your desk, and announced, “Daddy, this can be your room.”

Dex looked up from where he had been fixing the loose hinge on the door. “My room?”

Leo nodded, very seriously. “You need one.”

Dex glanced toward the hallway, where you were making tea in the kitchen, then back at Leo. He looked confused. “I… have a room.”

Leo frowned. “Where?”

Dex said it like it was obvious. “With your mom.”

Leo went completely still. His little face folded into pure confusion. “With Mommy?”

Dex’s mouth twitched. “Yes.”

Leo stared at him like Daddy had just explained the laws of the universe incorrectly.“But that’s Mommy’s room.”

“It’s our room.”

Leo blinked.

You appeared in the doorway with two mugs just in time to watch your son’s entire worldview collapse.

Leo looked at you. Then at Dex. Then back at you.

“Mommy shares her room?”

You bit your lip.

Dex, unhelpfully, looked deeply pleased with himself, smug despite the fact that his competition was literally his own son. “Yes,” he said. “With me.”

Leo’s mouth opened. For once in his tiny life, he had no argument ready. He didn’t even know people could share rooms!

One night, though, when the apartment had gone dark, Leo climbed out of bed with his blanket dragging behind him and tiptoed down the hall. His night-light had been on, but the corner near the wardrobe still looked too shadowy, and Rabbit had fallen off the bed twice, which is probably a bad sign.

Your bedroom door was half-open.

Inside, you were trying to read.

Keyword trying, because Dex was not helping.

He was curled around you beneath the blanket, his arm around your waist, his cheek pressed against your chest. Every time your eyes moved back to the page, his mouth brushed against your skin in a lazy little kiss, like he couldn’t help himself.

“Dex,” you murmured, the book still open in one hand. “You’re distracting me.”

His voice came muffled against your skin. “Hmm.”

“I am trying to read.”

“So read.”

You lowered the book.

Dex lifted his head just enough to look at you, and Leo saw that gentle thing happen to Daddy’s face again. The thing that only happened around Mommy. Leo decided this was very sweet.

Unfortunately, Leo was also a very rule-oriented kid, so he also found it very hypocritical.

“Mommy?”

Dex went still immediately.

You looked toward the door, your eyebrows furrowing. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Leo stood in the doorway in his pyjamas, clutching his blanket with both hands. “I’m scared of the dark. Can you come sleep with me?”

Your eyes changed from curious into sympathetic. It meant Leo already knew you were about to say something disappointing and feel bad about it later.

“Oh, baby,” you said. “You’re getting bigger now. You need to try sleeping by yourself, okay? Being independent is important.”

Leo stared at you. It was very close to his father’s death stare when his eyes moved, very slowly, To Dex.

Dex, who was still wrapped around your waist.

Dex, whose face was still half-buried against your akin.

Dex, who had made no attempt to move, explain himself, or pretend he was not clinging to you for dear life.

Leo frowned. “But Daddy’s bigger than me.”

You froze. Dex’s eyes finally opened properly.

Leo pointed at him, deeply offended by the hypocrisy happening in front of him. “He should be independent first!”

What followed in the next few seconds was terrible, perfect silence.

Then you made a laugh-like sound into your hand, trying to hide it but failing. 

Dex lifted his head slowly. Leo stood his ground.

He had Dex’s stubborn little mouth. Dex’s serious eyes. Dex’s absolute confidence when he believed he was right.

And unfortunately, he was right.

“Leo,” you said carefully, trying very hard to remain a responsible parent. “Daddy is…”

You looked down at Dex. Your husband looked up at you, daring you to finish that sentence.

You couldn’t.

Because what were you supposed to say?

Daddy spent seven years missing Mommy?

Daddy has attachment issues?

Daddy is a six-foot fugitive who becomes emotionally unstable if Mommy is too far away?

Daddy is emotionally dependent but we’re working on it?

Leo blinked at you, waiting for an answer, but your husband beat you to it. 

“I am independent,” Dex defended himself, clearing his throat.

Leo’s eyebrows pulled together. “You’re holding Mommy.”

Dex looked down at his own arm around your waist as if discovering it there for the first time, because at this point, it was muscle memory. Then, he looked back at Leo.

“I’m protecting her.”

You chuckled, and Dex shot you a look, almost a pout.

Leo didn’t look convinced. “From what?”

Dex opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

You bit your lip to stop a laugh

That was when Leo knew he had found weakness.

He stepped farther into the room, dragging his blanket behind him like a tiny judge entering court. “There’s no bad guys in here.”

Dex’s face went serious. “There could be.”

You smacked his shoulder lightly. “Don’t scare him.”

Dex rolled his eyes, because he knew his son. “I couldn’t if I wanted to.”

Leo climbed onto the end of the bed without permission, still frowning at his father, which was funny, because it just looked like Dex and mini-Dex having the world's cutest standoff.

“If Daddy can sleep with Mommy because he’s scared of bad guys,” Leo said, “then I can sleep with Mommy because I’m scared of the dark.”

You stared at him. Dex stared at him.

Leo stared back, deeply satisfied with his own logic. It was, unfortunately, airtight.

Your resolve lasted maybe half a second. “Oh, sweetheart,” you sighed, already defeated. “Fine. I’ll come with you.”

Leo’s face lit up immediately.

You pulled the blanket back and started to climb out of bed. Dex, because he was your husband, moved at the same time. He was already sitting up, hair mussed, expression serious, one hand reaching for the edge of the blanket like it was obvious that he was coming, too.

Leo noticed, and his little smile vanished.

“No.”

You paused halfway out of bed, with one foot on the floor.

Dex looked at his son. “No?”

Leo tightened his grip around your hand and stood very straight, blanket dragging behind him like a tiny king issuing a royal decree. “Daddy can’t come.”

Dex blinked. You pressed your lips together.

“Why not?” Dex asked, and there was just enough offence in his voice to keep you amused.

Leo frowned at him, still deeply wounded by the audacity. “Because Daddy needs to practice to sleep by himself.”

You turned your face away because if you looked at Dex, you were going to laugh.

Dex stared at Leo.

Leo stared back with the calm, righteous confidence of someone who had caught a grown man breaking his own rule.

“I can sleep by myself,” Dex said, eyebrows furrowing.

Leo’s eyes dropped very pointedly to your side of the bed, where Dex had been wrapped around you two seconds ago. “You don’t.”

You made a small, helpless sound.

Leo tugged your hand, already pulling you toward the door. “Come on, Mommy.”

You let him lead you, biting your lip so hard it hurt.

Dex stayed in bed, visibly offended, the blanket pooled around his waist, looking like an assassin who had just been grounded by his four-year-old. As a result, he scoffed.

It was small, but Leo heard it.

“Daddy,” Leo said, scandalised.

Dex stared at him. “What?”

“That was rude.”

Dex closed his eyes.

For a second, you thought he might actually argue. Dex liked arguing when he thought he was right, and Dex almost always thought he was right. But then he looked at you, and the annoyance in his face tamed into something much more helpless.

Leo saw it.

Daddy loved Mommy so much. Leo liked that Daddy loved Mommy.

He did.

It made the house feel cozy.

But rules were rules.

“It’s one night, baby,” you said softly.

Dex’s teeth clenched.

He didn’t  like it, that much obvious.

But Leo was watching him with solemn expectation, and Dex had been trying very hard to be good at fatherhood. Good at breakfast. Good at bedtime. Good at not moving the dinosaur chest even though he clearly still wanted to. Good at letting Leo win small things because he was his son. 

So Dex exhaled through his nose. “Fine.”

Leo brightened.

Dex pointed lightly at him. “But Mommy comes back after you fall asleep.”

Leo frowned. “No. Mommy sleeps in my bed.”

Dex’s expression went flat.

“All night?” Dex asked, very annoyed now.

Leo nodded. “All night.”

Dex looked at you like betrayal had entered the marriage.

You smiled sweetly. “It’s only fair.”

“Hmmm,” Dex sighed.

“Yes,” Leo said. “Because Daddy is learning.”

Dex looked deeply unimpressed. Still, he leaned across the bed and kissed your temple. His mouth lingered against your skin, warm and reluctant, his hand coming up to cup your cheek like he was already annoyed about missing you from two rooms away.

Leo sighed loudly. Dex looked at him.

“You kiss Mommy a lot,” Leo said.

You laughed for real then.

Dex’s mouth twitched. “I’m married to her.”

Leo considered that.

“Does married mean Daddy is always cuddling mommy?”

Dex shook his head, trying to wrap around why his son was so argumentative about you. Oh right. He was his son. “No.”

Leo looked at you. “I think yes.”

Dex opened his mouth, but you reached over and patted his cheek.

“Don’t argue with him,” you said, still smiling. “He’s already won.”

Dex looked offended, but he kissed your palm anyway.

Then he leaned down and rested one large hand on top of Leo’s head. “Be good,” he said, even though he knew Leo was already a very good kid. 

Leo nodded. “Be brave.”

Dex breath hitched. 

Leo repeated very seriously, “Be brave, Daddy.”

Dex looked at him for a long moment, and then his voice went smaller. “I’ll try.”

So you carried Leo back to his room, even though he was big enough to walk, because sometimes being scared of the dark meant you got carried. His room smelled like clean laundry, picture books, and plastic dinosaurs. The night-light cast amber stars over the walls, and the dinosaur chest sat at the foot of the bed, exactly where Leo wanted it.

You curled yourself around him in his little bed as best you could. It was too small for you, so your knees bent awkwardly and one foot stuck out from under the blanket, but Leo looked pleased.

Your arm went over his tummy.

“Mommy?” he whispered.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Daddy loves you a lot.”

Your hand moved slowly through his hair. “Yes,” you whispered. “He does.”

“He kisses you all the time.”

You smiled in the dark. “I noticed.”

“Is that because married?”

You were quiet for a second. Then you said, “Partly.”

Leo thought about that.

“Does Daddy get scared when you’re not there?”

Your hand paused only briefly, but he felt it. To avoid thinking too much, you kissed his forehead.

“Sometimes.”

“But he’s big.”

“Yes.”

“And he has to learn.”

You laughed into his hair. “Yes. Apparently he does.”

Leo nodded, satisfied.

For a while, there was only the hum of the apartment and the faint noise of New York outside the window. Leo’s eyes grew heavy. Your hand kept moving gently through his hair until sleep pulled him under.

At some point, you fell asleep, too.

You meant to wait until Leo was settled and then secretly go back to your room. You really did. But Leo was warm, the bed was soft enough, and the apartment was silent. Your eyes closed for just a second.

Before you knew it, pale morning light was slipping through the curtains.

Leo woke first.

For a moment, he only blinked at the light on the wall. Then he noticed you still curled awkwardly around him, asleep with one arm across his middle.

Then, he noticed your hand.

It had slipped over the edge of the bed sometime in the night and… someone was holding it.

Leo lifted his head.

Daddy was on the floor.

Dex was asleep beside Leo’s bed, back against the wall, one knee bent, one arm resting on the mattress. His fingers were tangled gently with yours. He must’ve come into his room sometime in the night, found your hand, and fell asleep. 

He hadn’t climbed into the bed.

So, while he may have tried to stay in his own room, he had definitely not slept by himself.

Leo stared.

Dex looked different asleep. Still serious somehow, but softer around the mouth. His black T-shirt was wrinkled. His hair was messy. He looked uncomfortable on the floor, but he was holding Mommy’s hand like it was the only place his hand belonged.

Leo looked at you. Still asleep. He looked at Daddy again. Still asleep.

Then Leo slowly reached for Stegosaurus.

He lifted it close to his mouth so he could whisper without waking either of you.

“Daddy is not independent,” Leo told it.

Stegosaurus, wisely, didn’t argue.

Leo nodded to himself. Then, after a moment, he added very softly,

“But he’s learning.”

—end.

Dex taglist : @itsdynotdaddy @diabolicallydownbad @doesanyonereadthis @meicore @pixie2k5 @bibiishin @starlitflora @pearlstiare @glorybeat @stardustworlds @castawaybarnes @supervampireflame @not-the-teen-witch @billybonesxx @ultimatewolverine @treetrees-world-of-imagiation @bitch-spaghetti-o @lostinthes4uce @cotton-eee @weallhaveadestiny @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @moonbug333 @yujyujj @mattdexx @lostfallenangelsblog @bloomsberryfairy @flimsysquid @abbotfan @leonetta2014 @ficcharsimpsblog @odairtrqsh @ugh-whytho @riverjane-d (Let me know if I missed anyone. If you want to be added, please ask/messege! it gets lost in the comments sometimes!)

[goth-queen]

[goth-queen]

[goth-queen]

[jay-rayart]

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[creatingblackcharacters]

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[cyber333angel]

Licking on dex scar during missionary… that alone will drive him crazy. he’d get sloppy afterwards mumbling and cursing bcs you could do anything to taunt him; he has the patience for it all but licking the scar??? wheww that’d do it….

WHEWWW

and at first he would be thrusting into you slowly and lovingly, his cock sinking into your tummy and drawing little gasps from you. your quivering legs just closing in on his waist every time he draws back and pushes his length into your cunt. and with how tender dex is being it makes you so needy that you just want to kiss him :(( making grabby hands at him until he smiles and lowers his head down for you, letting you wrap your arms around his neck. “needy girl..” he’ll mumble, knowing he totally loves it when you get like this.

you’re just pecking at his lips and his neck, whines of dex.. and feels s’good.., sweetly leaving your lips after every smooch. you’ve pulled him so close that your cheeks are pressed together and you could hear his breaths in your ear, hard panting and strained groans every so often. and you really weren’t thinking when you did it, your lips were already kissing at his cheekbones when you decided to lick a long stripe against his scar. tongue gliding over the damaged skin with a pant as you hold him close to you, tasting the sweat of darkened scar. and dex just stills in his movements, his cock still snug in between your legs as he takes in how fucking hot that was.

you hear dex groan out a rough, “fuck..”, his hands moving from holding behind your head to gripping at your hips, sloppily pounding into your cunt with need. and he hits right at your g-spot extracting a sob from your throat, instinctively hiding into dexs shoulder. “hey, stop that. keep doing what you were doing sweetheart.. for me yeah?” dex urges, taking one of his hands from your hips and pulling your head from his neck. with tears running down your face you start to lap at dexs face again, and you give him little kitten licks at his scar with a whimper.

his mouth curls into a grin and he bites his lip, eyes shut in pleasure as his hips rock into you harshly. “atta girl just like that..” you hear, feeling your core tighten up with an intense orgasm creeping up on you.

you can barely keep up steady licks on dexs cheek, only managing a slick stripe on his skin every moment from how much he’s rocking you back and forth on the bed. and his thrusts stutter when you clench around his length, tightly squeezing around him while you cum, his cock having to pry itself from your sopping folds. dex is mumbling curses in your ear and you know he’s about to cum himself, cos he gets all sloppy and hazy, cock pulsing with the need to paint your walls. dex plunges his load in your hole with lowly moan — you’re hiding in his shoulder again, and his face is all messy with spit because of you!

[honeysucklewatr]

18+ benjamin poindexter is big, needy, and pathetic.

at first you were afraid of what bullseye can do.

you didn’t know benjamin poindexter, but you knew of that other side of him. the blood on his hands that he acted like didn’t exist or just didn’t care to dwell on. how capable he is of destruction that it followed him everywhere he went.

but then he met you.

well, first he followed you. he found your address and place of work. found your parents house and your coworkers husband who stared too long at you when he picked up his wife.

dex watched you walk home from afar because someone should make sure you’re safe, right?

but you’re attentive and when he starts to get closer, you notice him. he’s not hard to miss, all that muscle mass and that deafening stare. you lock eyes with him at the grocery store. then, at your local coffee shop when he lifted his hat and visibly gulped. he finally builds up the courage to talk to you then and buys you a cup of coffee, plus some sweet pastry because he knew you hadn’t eaten yet, even though you didn’t tell him.

though when he slips up that the gym by your house is nice, you just knew.

“did i mention i lived around there?” you blink at him.

his smile reaches his eyes, crinkling beautifully. “i believe so.”

calling his bluff and inching closer, you press on, “i believe you’ve been following me, Benjamin.”

everything in his face drops and his expression falters. “no… i just—i saw you and i thought,”

“—it’s okay,” you smile, lifting your drink and sipping slowly. eye’s glued to his as they began to soften. “i can learn things too. really interesting things officer.”

he blinks hard, “i didn’t tell you about my job…”

“and yet? you’d be surprised how much information you can find online.”

the words die in his mouth and he’s left dumbfounded and speechless. still, he stays and he asks for number. you give him it. you could ask him to anything and he’ll say yes or soundlessly change the odds so they’re all in your favour. it’s not coercion and it’s almost worse than obsession, but the control is all in your hands. he is at your beck and call willingly.

so when he you’re mad at him, he doesn’t know what to do. he just falls apart.

“please,” he begs over the phone, “i’ll be good i swear. i’ll stop fighting just let me come home.”

from his tone you could tell he was just done crying and it just sounded pathetically beautiful.

“this is not your home. this is my house.” you coo as you stir your dinner. “stop calling me dex.”

you hang up without listening to the rest of his pleading. though less than 10 minutes later, he’s at your front door, begging again.

“baby,” eyes red and puffy, “i need you, i can’t breathe without you. please, please, don’t cut me off again, just—” he breathes as he ghosts his arm by your shoulders like he’s asking for permission. “can i please stay?”

you sigh and let him inside the house. he silently walks in, muttering a quiet thank you as he passes you. as soon as you close door and turn, dex is already on his knees.

“what the hell are you doing dex?”

dropping to his knees, his hands caress the backs of your thighs, dropping his head and burying it between them. gripping you tightly like he could bare letting go. “please take me back. nothing is good without you and it’s making me fucking sick, please,” practically blubbering at this point.

he was so strong and his biceps wrapped around you effortlessly. you could feel the strength just radiating off of him always, like an ever glowing essence.

you sigh, hand touching the nape of his neck and travelling up through his hair while he hums in contentment, “please stand up.”

the sound that he makes was teetering the line of desperation and relief. his lips press against the plush of your thigh while his hands rise to cup your ass. with your hand still buried in his hair, you pull him up with a slight tug, trying to get him to stand. though he keeps slowly rising, kissing up your side and dancing over your stomach, the fabric rising with every movement. a soft gasp escapes your lips and his touch slides up your spine, a shiver running through you. he stops just by your neck when you tug his hair harder and he hisses your name though one would argue it was a moan. you shove him gently and tell him to sit down, though you knew he could’ve stopped you.

you tend to his wounds and wipe his face and he watches you the whole time with puppy eyes. you share your dinner with him but you don’t touch again then, he only steals glances between bites.

within the span of an hour he’s inching closer to you on the couch and he’s watching you when he thinks you’re not looking. no one really cares about the news playing on the television as it repeats something about the AVTF.

his heavy hand rests just under your chest as he pulls you in and buries his nose in your hair, taking a long deep breath in. memorizing your scent like it gave him life.

by the end of night dex is situated between your legs, groaning like it hurts to part from you. he whispers soft thank you’s like he’s grateful for this meal you’ve provided. pushing your legs up higher over his head while you pant and squirm. but dex takes more control then, ignoring your pleas to slow down and dragging you closer to his mouth. maw slack and relentless as he laps and teases. his strong arms wrap and hook around your thighs. tongue teasing the sensitive bud for what felt like eternity. you’ll push his head away to no avail, weakly spent as you attempt it.

“dex, enough. i can’t,” you pant, voice bordering on barely concealed exhaustion and blissful satisfaction.

he shakes his head against you and that only makes you gasp again, throwing your head back.

“not until you promise hmm?” he says between his drunken moans, “you can’t leave me.”

crying out from overstimulating pleasure you nod, “okay, fuck— i won’t. you can stay.”

looking up at you through his hooded eyes, he smiles with them before kissing your inner thigh. he leaves gentle kisses to let you cool off, letting the feeling subside for barely a minute before diving right back into his ministrations. he lets you squeeze yours legs around his head and writhe as you say his name.

“now really try to suffocate me with these,” he says as he squeezes your thighs harder around his neck, turning his head to bite the plush of your thighs.

you know you’ll let him in again. you’ll always let him come back. maybe one day you’ll tell him how you follow him too.

can you tell i just rewatched the whole show again?

[usergambit]

BULLSEYE DAREDEVIL: BORN AGAIN S02E02 - 'Shoot the Moon'