doll

how to forget

summary: dex is the perfect boyfriend. at least, he makes you forget the things that would prove otherwise.

pairing: benjamin poindexter x f!reader content/warnings: 18+ (mdni), brief description of sexual acts, obsessive behavior, codependency, manipulation, toxic/unhealthy relationship dynamics, mention of firearms word count: 1.5k A/N: surprise!! i didn't want to leave you guys without any Dex while i'm on my trip before the next week's chapter of North Star :) so here's a treat from me to you! technically part of the North Star universe, but can be read separately from the series. i like to think of this as a little interlude, a peak into Dex and reader's relationship before chapter seven. hope you enjoy!

divider by: @uzmacchiato

Dex will never leave you alone. Proximity, to him, is worship. 

Standing at the stove making dinner? He’s pressed behind you, arms looped around your waist, chin hooked over your shoulder as he watches you stir whatever you’re making that night. 

Grading papers on the couch? He’s sitting there too, reaching over to take your legs and place them over his lap, idly running his hands up and down your calves as he waits for you to be finished.

Getting ready? He’s leaning in the doorframe, watching you apply your makeup in the mirror, already starting to conjure up some excuse as to why you shouldn’t be going out to dinner with your friends that night.

And worst, the shower. 

You made that mistake once before. After a long day at work in the dead heat of summer, you trudged home covered in sweat and misery, wanting only to take a shower, get a moment of peace, and slide between your sheets clean as a whistle. 

You managed to do that, actually. In rare form, Dex had been stuck late at the field office for God knows what. He had texted you multiple times earlier to inform you of that. 

Hey, going to be late tonight. I’m so sorry. Do you want to meet me at the office and then we can go to dinner? I hope you had a good day. I love you. 

Did that dad from parent teacher conferences email you again? 

Actually, just wait at school. I don’t want you riding the subway alone.

[ 2 missed calls ]

Call me when you see this.

Are you still in your classroom?

Hello?

[ 4 missed calls ]

Are you mad at me? 

Who are you with right now? 

I love you

Baby?

Are you not going to answer my call? 

[ 17 missed calls ] 

Oh, Dex. 

Unfazed at this point in your relationship by his reactions (and sometimes, a little bit flattered), you had promptly called him back and assured him that no, that dad from parent-teacher conferences hadn’t emailed you again, no, you weren’t going to ride the subway alone, yes, you loved him, and no, you weren’t mad at him.

Finally, you had settled on assuring him you would come straight home after work. It wasn’t like Dex didn’t already have your location, anyway. He would pick up food on the way home. 

You just hadn’t told him you had changed plans halfway through and decided a shower and bed were a better fit. It was no big deal, you thought. 

How wrong you were.

You were in that limbo between deep sleep and waking when you distantly heard the familiar jangle of keys, then the heavy sound of footsteps moving down the hallway. Your bedroom door creaked open.

“Hey, baby.”

You cracked open an eye. Dex stood in the doorway, illuminated by the hallway light. A black figure cut in the pale backdrop. In one hand, he held a plastic bag– your favorite Chinese takeout, likely. 

“Hi, honey,” you yawned, stretching your arms out and watching as Dex disappeared, likely putting the takeout on the kitchen counter (he despised food being anywhere other than the kitchen). A moment later, he reappeared and sat on the bed beside you, his weight dipping into the mattress. 

Dex’s calloused hand found yours on the sheets, squeezing once. He had to touch you as soon as he saw you, always. Like he was checking if you still existed.

“You’re already in bed? Are you feeling okay?”

You hummed and sank back against the pillow, eyes heavy as you looked affectionately upon your boyfriend. He was so cute when he was concerned.  “Mhmm. Just tired.”

He brushed his free hand over your forehead, pushing back some of your hair. Then he leaned forward, skimmed his lips over your forehead, and– 

Dex stilled. 

You felt him stop breathing. His hand stayed in his hair, his mouth close to your skin. Dex’s nose brushed your hairline, and then he inhaled. 

“...Did you already shower?”

You blinked. Dex’s face hovered over yours, only inches away, but the expression on it had gone strangely blank. Empty, almost. Like blood had drained from him and left only a mask. It made your stomach tighten. 

“Um…yeah,” you stuttered, taken off guard by his sudden change in demeanor. “I got really sweaty walking home. It was kind of gross so–”

“Are you mad at me?”

What? You pushed yourself up from the pillows onto your elbows. Dex remained in place, watching you too closely with that flat expression. “Dex, what? It was like, ninety-five degrees out.”

He scrubbed a hand down his jaw. Something was building, you could sense it. 

“It wasn’t ninety-five today,” he said flatly. “It was eighty-nine.”

…was he fucking with you? Your mouth opened, and then closed. “Dex.”

Suddenly, Dex stood from the bed and began pacing the bedroom. In the low light, you could see red blooming beneath the collar of his shirt. He was still dressed for work: white button-up, sleeves rolled to his forearms, gray slacks, holster at his hip. His gun was still in it.

“I don’t–” Dex dragged both hands behind his head, fingers pressing hard into the back of his neck. “I just don’t know why you would lie to me.”

“Dex, I didn’t lie–”

He kept rambling, almost like he was talking to himself. “You’ve never showered without me. I mean, not since we– I don’t know why you do that and not tell me. I-I would tell you.”

“Dex, stop.” You pushed the comforter off of you before you could think better of it. Dex turned sharply towards you at the sound of your bare feet padding against the floor, like the small movement had startled him. His chest was rising and falling too fast, his hands still locked behind his neck, elbows drawn wide. In the dark, his eyes looked almost black. “I’m not mad at you. I promise.”

His jaw worked. “We always shower together.”

Dex was right. Since your relationship had become official, since the first time you slept together and suddenly apartment 415 ceased to exist, Dex had more or less moved into 416. You realized you hadn't showered alone in weeks. 

You would rise from the couch, or the dining table, or the bed, and on instinct, Dex would too, following you down the hall as you made your way to the bathroom. It was like he had Pavlov-ed himself to the sound of the shower head turning on. The second the water started, he knew it was time to join you. 

You were still in that glorious haze of the early days of your relationship, where being joined at the hip felt romantic instead of suffocating. Where you wanted to spend every moment either snuggling, whispering cringey words of affection, or fucking like rabbits. The shower tended to be the latter. 

“I know, honey.”

“And it’s not even–” He cut himself off, swallowing. “It’s not about sex. I don’t need it to be about that. I just…I just like taking care of you.”

Looking back, you should have countered that. You should have said something about how taking a shower wasn’t a betrayal, and you were allowed to be alone. That you didn’t need him in you or on you constantly. 

But Dex was upset. And that fact alone hurt you. Because you loved him. 

So instead of doing something smart, you reached for him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered softly as your hands cupped his twitching jaw. Dex’s shoulders loosened the second you touched him. “I didn’t know it would upset you this much.”

His breath left him all at once, shaky and relieved. “No, no, don’t–” Dex’s hands came up to hold onto your wrists, thumbs moving over your pulse. “Don’t apologize, please. I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to freak out.”

“It’s okay.”

“I know I get…” His eyes flickered between yours. “Intense.”

“A little.” You gave him a small smile. “But I like it.”

Dex huffed a thin laugh that quickly disappeared. His eyes had gone watery. 

“I just love you,” he said. “That’s all. I just… I love you so much that sometimes it hurts, and I just– I don’t know what to do with it.”

Your heart squeezed. How could it not? How could you look at this handsome man, who bought you your favorite food and gave you mind-numbing orgasms and listened to you and wanted you with such total devotion, and be mad at him when he said he loved you so much he couldn’t stand a second without you? You were only human. 

“I love you too,” You kissed the corner of his mouth gently, then fully on his lips. “I’ll make it up to you.”

And just like that, as you took a second, unnecessary shower with your perfect boyfriend, you didn’t think once about that silly little fight. You couldn’t, with your cheek pressed to the glass door, his hips snapping against your ass, his cock hitting that perfect spot in you over and over again as his mouth was at your ears, telling you how he loved you. Dex always made you forget those things when he had you like this. He made you forget the blank look in his eyes. He made you forget how any sane person would have broken up with someone over that. He made you forget the loaded gun that had been holstered at his hip for the entire conversation. He just made you…

Forget.

LESSONS LEARNT ━━╋━　 mdni .ᐟ boss!bruce wayne, a little ooc bruce, kinda 'secretary', 2002 inspired, impact play, fingering, public sex, free use, power imbalance...

you tried to be quiet and listen, you really did.

the air in bruces office room crackles with tension thick enough to taste. he sits before you, arms crossed and legs spread, his expression full of disappointment. you'd deliberately ignored his instructions, going out of your way to talk to his peers, battling your lashes all pretty. now, the weight of his gaze keeps you held down as you stand in front of him.

"i gave you a simple instruction," he huffs out lowly, his voice dangerously quiet, the deepness of it sending a shaky feeling down your spine and through your nerves, a thrum of want, you couldn't help letting your eyes linger down at his crotch.

"and you chose not to listen, didn't you?" , bruce raises his voice to get your attention back to his eyes you flush hot nodding quickly.

"can't even look at me when i'm speaking to you," his jaw ticks softly, but with an edge of steel that makes you lift your chin immediately, tinged with a need to please him. his eyes are dark, unwavering as he kept your gaze.

"not following orders has consequences. you know that, don’t you?"

you swallow, half nervous half sick excitement.

"c'mere—"

your breath hitches, but you do as told, the movement feeling both humiliating and strangely thrilling. you place your palms on him, feeling the solid muscle of his shoulders under his suit, arching your back slightly, presenting yourself with your legs parted around his thighs. you feel wetness begin to pool between your legs, your dress hitching up slightly. you love when he's like this, playing along like you're actually together.

"but the door, bruce —" you mumble a little worried, blinking up at his dark eyes he only shakes his head.

"it's late, just us—"

it starts, innocently enough, with bruces hand casually stroking the small of you back and then running down the curve of your ass and resting on the back of your thigh.

your breath hitches and you try to hold back the slight shake of your legs, his other hand squeezes at your hip possessively and you almost forget that this is a punishment.

his hands are still in their warm, heavy presence a dominant weight that sends a familiar thrill through you.

he knows, he knows you get off on this, being told what to do and when, you get off on his voice and his hands, the size of them, the length of his fingers, how they could poke and prod you into perfect compliance, the callouses rough against your skin, the way he can make you unravel with just a touch.

it's not exactly a secret, it's a game you both play, a silent secret between the two of you.

then you gasp all of a sudden, too loud for the quiet of the office

the pain is hot and stinging, you feel it as the first impact lands, sharp and sudden, right across the curve of your backside. you gasp, jumping in his lamp, hands clamping down on him as your head tucked under his. you swore you could feel your slick dripping down between your legs.

"count." he orders, his voice calm and steady.

the second smack follows quickly, just as hard. the sting layers over the first, making your skin flush in heat.

"two—"

again and again his hand came down on you harshly, with an occasional soothing rub.

"t-ten—", you gasp softly into the crook of his jaw.

"did good sweetheart," he murmurs.

"don't make me do that again."

bruce presses a kiss to the crown of your head, his hand doesn't move right away. instead, his fingers trace over the flushed skin where he struck you.

"my perfect girl—"

his touch no longer punishing, but possessive, almost sweet.

"let this be a reminder to listen next time, got it?"

you can only nod, swallowing and shaky with want.

he hums softly, a dark, satisfied sound. "good girl." his fingers finally dip beneath the hem of your skirt. lingering between your thighs and brushing over your clothed cunt, he doesn't go straight for your core. instead, he just rests his hand there, palm flat against your heat, fingers splayed, letting you feel his touch, his presence. you let out a soft whimper, arching into him.

"want me to touch you properly?"

his fingers tease at you stroking gently, you can see his smirk, he's proud of himself, bruce doesn't usually indulge like this so it's a treat for the both of you.

bruces lips curve up as you let out a little moan. his fingers, strong and sure, slip beneath the dampening lace of your panties. one finger finding your clit and pressing down hard. you gasp out, hips bucking slightly against the solid of his body as he lets the length of his finger dip inside your now pulsing cunt.

he adds a second finger, parting your folds, exploring, teasing, before quickening his pace, in and out and in and out, pumping deep inside your slick heat.

he moves with expertise, stoking, curling, stretching your the walls of your clenched pussy, while his thumb never leaves its relentless worship of your clit. you lean into him, focusing on the feeling, the pleasure running through your veins as it works you over, the sight of his strong fingers buried inside you, covered in your wetness, almost as arousing as the sensations themselves. he knows this too, deliberately keeping his hand in your line of sight.

you watch on through silent gasps and moans muffled into the side of his neck which you've buried your head into, almost hiding from the authority of his gaze, his fingers working relentlessly at your soaked heat until you shatter. crying out with glossed over eyes, your body convulsing around his long teasing fingers and their perfect touch and you're left limp against him while he stares down at your mess.

"poor thing—", he tuts smiling into your hair.

"hopefully that little lesson got through to your head hm…"

Your grandma’s been mentioning that this nice young man has been helping her feed her cats whenever she's gone for physical therapy. You thought it was so nice that someone was helping her out while you weren’t around but of course your grandma being, well.. your grandma

she kept mentioning how amazing he was

“He’s such a good boy”

“He’s so handsome too, tall, blond, and a kind soul”

“I think he’s your age”

she was practically screaming in your face “DATE HIM” but you kept playing dumb, saying “thats nice of him” and “oh thats great, grandma” to at least TRY to get her to drop this

meanwhile, with Dex she was laying it on THICK saying “You’d be perfect for my granddaughter”

Every time he’s still at her apartment after shes already returned she says something like, “you’re so kind ben, y/n likes gentlemen”and he just has to say “im sure she does”

—

Then one day, you’re at her apartment waiting around, about to feed her cats, before its time to pick her up from physical therapy and suddenly you hear the door open, which confuses you because it could not be your grandmother, the woman who can’t get home on her own, let alone work the elevator by herself

so the only logical reason the door is being opened is because there’s an burglar coming in, so you instinctively grab the sharpest knife in the kitchen.

and then he comes in, the burglar… except he’s not wearing the typical black ski mask you imagined all robbers wore, instead his face is completely exposed. The thief’s handsome face is in clear view, And he raises both of his hands when you yell at him “who the hell are you?!” and hold the knife up

(dex would never be harmed by you but he plays along😭) he says “I’m Dex, I’ve been feeding Mrs. (L/N)’s cats for the past few months”

and you realize this handsome man is the man who’s been helping out your grandmother, and you just pulled a knife on him.

You apologize profusely and put the knife down “I thought my grandma told you you didn’t have to come over today,”

and Dex just says “She must’ve forgotten to mention that”

⋆˚࿔ it’s filthy, disgusting ⋆˚࿔

non-con, degradation, humiliation, blood and injury, violence, forced orgasm, spitting, choking, coercion, masturbation, creampie

you’re too kind. gosh, you are. so willing to help strangers. especially the ones bleeding and broken. you just wanted to help. you really did. so now you’re on your own couch with your own panties shoved into your mouth, spread open beneath the man you patched up, while he fucks into your cunt like he owns it.

“see, that’s the problem with good girls like you.” his voice rasps against your ear, rough as gravel and just as cold. “you never check if the stray dog bites. you just open your door and roll out the bandages. real trusting.”

blood drips from his split lip onto your cheek. another drop, warmer, rolls from a wound on his side down your waist. you try to turn your head, but he catches your jaw, forcing you to look at him. his thumb brushes your tears away, smearing them across your skin like he's painting something. “i’m just paying you back for helping me.” he says it like a promise. mocking you. “next time, sweetheart, maybe check who you’re saving before you offer your couch.” then he slams into you deeper, and you muffle a scream against the cloth in your mouth.

he buries his face in your neck, kisses and bites until you’ll have bruises you can’t explain. your legs shake. you’ve lost count of how many times he’s made you come. one more gathers in your gut, hot and humiliating. you clench around him against your will. you turn your head away, face pressed into the couch cushion, but he fists your hair and yanks you back.

“if you scream, i’m going to make this night a lot longer for you. understand?” his tongue traces the shell of your ear before he pulls the panties from your mouth.

you don't scream. you sob. “p-please… I don’t like this- ”

“yeah?” he tugs your hair harder. “tell me how much you hate it. how disgusting i am. go on, pretty girl.”

“i fucking hate you- get off me- please-” the words come out broken, swallowed by tears. he laughs, low and dark. then he shoves your face into the cushion again, arches your back, and drives himself deeper. “i’m disgusting, baby? that’s what i am?”

“disgusting- you’re so fucking-” you gasp as he hits that spot. the one you hate and the one that betrays you every time. “disgusting- mmh…”

“yeah? am i?” his rhythm stutters. his breathless whisper made your cunt clench around him. you hated how your skin prickled, every hair standing up. he comes inside you, hot and thick.

“no- no, get off!” you beat your fists against his chest, slap his face, but he just laughs. the blood from his lips smears across your cheek as he catches both your wrists in one hand, grip bruising. with the other, he squeezes your cheeks, forces your mouth open, and spits. a thick gob of bloody saliva lands on your tongue. copper. salt. filth. you gag, try to spit it out. but he shoves his gloved fingers into your throat, pushing it down. you choke, kick, but he’s got you pinned. helpless.

but then,

a sharp knock at the door.

your eyes fly open. the fantasy shatters like glass.

you’re alone in your living room. legs spread wide on the couch. fingers buried knuckle-deep in your soaking cunt. panting hard. your panties are shoved halfway down your thighs, clinging to your skin, slick with shame. on the cushion beside you lies the blue mask. still damp and warm from your grip. the mask that you took that night he saved you, but you never saw his face. you wanted his face, his name, anything. the mask lay by your foot, warm with sweat and blood. you took it because you couldn’t let him vanish without a trace. you needed to have something of him. so you stole it, stuffed it in your pocket, and ran. cowardly? yes. you couldn’t let go of the only piece of a man who gave you nothing else. but you’ve put it to good use, haven’t you? good fucking use.

another knock. louder.

you yank your hand free. heart hammering, you scramble to pull up your panties, wipe your slick fingers on your thigh. you toss the mask onto the coffee table, smooth your hair, straighten your shirt. your legs shake as you force them to carry you to the door.

you open it.

tony stands there, holding a toolbox. your quiet neighbor with mysterious way of living. “tony?” your voice comes out raw, still thick from the moans you were biting back seconds ago.

“you said you needed help fixing your bed.” he smiles. small. easy. but his eyes flick past you for half a second, scanning your living room. something in the way he moves makes your stomach twist.

“right… yes. yes, of course. come in.” you struggled a bit. then he steps forward. the space between you shrinks. you catch his scent. sweat, something metallic, and somehow a strong perfume. something that makes your freshly-used cunt clench again. it’s like the same scent that clung to the mask. the same copper tang that filled your mouth in that filthy fantasy you had. you push it away. stupid. he’s just tony. a nice guy who fixes things. nothing like the man in your head. you’re just being too disgusting.

you turn and walk fast toward your bedroom, rambling about screws and measurements you don’t understand. nervous chatter to fill the silence. behind you, tony stays quiet. too quiet. his eyes are still moving. when you finally glance back, he’s stopped. standing by the coffee table. looking down.

fucking dex in his bullseye suit, breeding, daddy kink, fingers in mouth, riding, manhandling, age gap (wc ~ 1.1k)

⋆˚࿔ every inch of you ⋆˚࿔

ִֶָ🪽་༘ body worship, marking liek a lottt, slow burn, orgasm, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, praise kink, cunnilingus, cum eating

you stand in front of him as he sits on the edge of the bed, looking up at you. his hands rest on your hips, gentle but sure. “you’re beautiful.” his voice is soft, almost a whisper, and it makes you smile. a small shy curve of your lips. your eyes are confused but full of awe. “thank you, dex.” your fingers find their way into his hair and threaded through the strands.

he slowly leans into you. his lips press small, deliberate kisses across your stomach. his hands slip down behind your thighs, squeezing just under the hem of your short dress as he pulled you closer. he’s not rushing. his mouth wanders everywhere. your ribs, your stomach, your hips, down to your thighs. and even as his grip tightens, there’s nothing rough about it. he’s savoring every inch.

then he stands, rises to his full height, and presses a kiss to your forehead. then your cheek, your nose, and finally your lips. the kiss is slow and deep, a lingering taste. he trails down to your jaw, your neck, your shoulders, your collarbone, each kiss a small worship.

“what’s with all of these?” you murmur, smiling, and kiss his jaw in return. he doesn’t answer, just smiles against your skin, his breath warm. he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, a silent question. you nod, and his gaze softens with permission granted.

he eases one strap of your dress down, pausing to kiss and suck the newly exposed skin until faint marks bloom. then he pulls the strap further, until the edge of your bra is visible. he stops, lets the fabric hang loose around your waist, and his lips move to your chest, kissing, sucking, but not yet pulling the bra down to spill you free.

finally, he guides the dress down your body, over your hips, past your thighs, until it pools at your toes. he holds your hand to steady you as you step out of it. real gentleman, huh? your fingers grip his biceps, feeling the muscle tense. he squeezes your waist, then kisses your forehead again, then your lips. “lay down for me, baby.” his voice is raspy, low, a rough edge of desire.

you obeyed. your hands lingering on his chest as you pull away. you settle onto the bed, lying back, watching him. dex’s adam’s apple bobs as his gaze travels over you. beautiful. the word is written in his eyes.

he climbs on top of you, his body warm and solid. he kisses your jaw, then your lips. the kiss is messier now. your hands tug at his shirt. he breaks away just long enough to pull it over his head, then returns to claim your mouth again. tongues slide together, tasting, teasing. he pulls back to kiss a path around your face, your neck, your collarbone. his hands find the clasp of your bra behind your back, and you arch up, making it easier. he takes the chance to press his mouth between your breasts as he unclips it, then slides the straps down, freeing you completely.

he cups both of your breasts. it fits his hands just perfect. it’s like you were made for him. he was kneading both of it gently. then lowers his mouth to suckle. your nipples harden against his tongue. he lavishes attention on each one, slow and thorough, before kissing down again.

god, he's kissing every single inch of you.

from your face to your torso to your legs, he leaves almost nothing untouched. his mouth climbs back up from your thighs, pausing at the hem of your panties. he hooks the waistband with his teeth and pulls it down. you part your legs slightly to help, and he replaces his teeth with his fingers, sliding the fabric down your legs, over your ankles, off completely. he takes a moment to look at you, bare and open beneath him. then he’s on top of you again, his mouth planting hickeys across your waist. “so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin.

his mouth drifts lower, to your bare pussy. he kisses the inside of your thighs, then your folds, before his tongue makes a long, slow lick from slit to clit. he pushes inside you, stiffening his tongue. he was eating you with a hunger that contrasts sharply with the gentleness he had treated you with moments before. you grip his hair, head thrown back, a gasp escaping. “dex! oh my-” your jaw drops, words lost. you’re pulling him deeper, grinding your hips against his face. his hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as you squirm.

you feel yourself clench around his tongue. you sense the corner of his lips lift in a knowing smile. he knows. his free hand finds your clit, rubbing fast, the wet sounds filling the room. you’re gasping, moaning louder. “ ’m close, dex- fuck!” you cry out. a few more flicks of his tongue, and you come. hard, messy, your body shuddering. you sob. gripping his hair tight and then releasing. you were panting heavily. dex cleans the mess with slow licks, drawing soft whines from you. he gives you a moment, then rises to kiss you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. without warning, he slides two fingers inside you, moving them slow and gentle just to feel your soft moans into his mouth.

I'm jus gonna leave this here... 18+

dex leans down, one hand holding your jaw to tilt it up. large palms cupping your cheeks with pressure. he doesn’t let you look away.“eyes on me," he growls. your body feels overwhelmingly full - each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you as he keeps pounding into that perfect spot. your lips part on a shaky moan - high-pitched and helpless as the pleasure crashes through you.

your eyes roll back for just a second before his voice snaps you back to reality. “be a good girl n' don't make me repeat myself,” he demands as you try to speak but another moan slips out. dex suddenly pushes into you harder, changing the angle completely. tears prickle at the corners of your eyes from how full you feel - how much sensation is flooding every nerve.

finally, your eyes, still glassy from tears and overwhelming pleasure, lock onto his. they’re hazy, unfocused as you force yourself to hold his gaze like your life depends on it. you don’t dare blink too long. don’t even consider glancing down or away because the moment your eyes start to drift, he notices instantly - his expression flickers with mild disapproval.

tears start sliding free at the overstimulation, the fullness is unbearable in the best way possible. dex's dark eyes are full of hunger and danger. the eye contact alone sends shivers down your spine. your body tenses suddenly - every muscle locking as the climax rips through you like lightning. a loud, unrestrained moan tears from your throat, raw and unfiltered. you stay locked onto him with pupils dilated, lips slightly parted from uneven breathing.

"atta girl… that’s it."

Dex plays pew pew video games with reader and they kick his ass the whole time.

"this is rigged!" he yells, pushing the keyboard away, his face turning to another shade of red. yes, you taught him to say that, too.

⋆˚࿔ slow sex with him after overstimulating you ⋆˚࿔

ִֶָ🪽་༘ p in v, slow sex, deep penetration, creampie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dex pinning you down with his body weight yayyy

dex’s got you crushed under him with his whole body heavy and hot, pinning you so deep into the mattress you can barely breathe right. his cock’s still buried so deep inside you, and when he starts moving it’s this slow, nasty drag that makes you feel every ridge, every swollen vein, the way he’s already so thick from wrecking you three times before this.

he pulls out until it’s just the fat head stretching your entrance. everything was leaking out, your slick and his cum sliding hot down your thighs in a sticky mess. then he sinks back in, inch by inch, shoving all that length right back inside you. your gasp punches out when he hits that spot again, the one that makes your toes curl and your nails dig hard into his biceps without you even realizing. dex stays right there, grinding his hips so his pelvis rubs your oversensitive clit, and the noise that rips out of you is broken, needy, almost embarrassing.

his mouth’s all over your neck, open and sloppy, sucking bruises you’ll definitely feel tomorrow. his grip on your hips is bruising, fingers trembling like he’s fighting the urge to just pound you senseless again. so before he fully loses control, he gives you another one of those slow, devastating thrusts that makes you clench around him like you’re trying to keep him there.

"come on," he growls low against your ear, voice rough and strained, "just take a little more for me, yeah?"

he keeps going like that. slow, deep, deliberate. all you can focus on is the way his cock drags against every sensitive inch inside you. every thrust pushes more of that sticky mess deeper, fills you until you’re overflowing and the sheets are ruined beneath you.