L.T

15 ways dex shows you his love

summary: 15 ways dex shows you the depths of his love, though we all know the list could go on...and on...and on...

pairing: benjamin poindexter x f!reader content/warnings: 18+ (mdni), brief description of sexual acts, obsessive behavior, stalking/surveillance, reproductive coercion, birth control tampering, isolation, implied violence/murder, unhealthy relationship dynamics word count: 896 A/N: oops poll isn't even closed and i said it was a democracy but i already had this ready and got too excited, so... as always for these oneshots, technically an interlude in the North Star Universe, but can be read separately. enjoy :)

divider by: @uzmacchiato

Dex remembers exactly how you take your coffee. Splash of milk, two packets of Stevia. Not too hot, you burn the roof of your mouth easily. 

Dex waits for you after work to walk you home. He hates the idea of you riding the subway alone. It can be dangerous, you never know what could happen. Besides, he would never want you to be lonely. 

Dex buys you flowers every Friday. He knows your favorites by heart now: roses, little bundles of white baby’s breath tucked in between them. He presents the bouquet wrapped in cheap cellophane every week, and you react with squeals of excitement each time. 

Dex loves to cook for you. He’s not amazing at it (the fire alarm has gone off more than once during one of his baking sessions), but it feels good to provide for you in this way. Why should you have to lift a finger, especially after a long day at work? And don’t you dare think about washing dishes after, he’s got it handled. 

Dex always ensures your pleasure comes first. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, how many positions you need to try, he won’t even think about putting his cock in you until you’ve orgasmed at least twice. Sex is his preferred method of devotion. 

Dex listens to you. Really listens. How rare is that in a man? He’ll remember everything you say, whether that’s your favorite type of carryout food, or movies you find overrated, or even minute details like names of childhood pets or favorite subjects from high school. Everything you say is important. Every detail of your life must be memorized. 

Dex knows which of your smiles are real. It’s become easy to see them more clearly, especially now that he’s with you all the time. He knows which are genuine, like when he makes you laugh. Which ones are polite, like talking to cashiers when you just want to go home. Or which ones are downright fake, like when you’re hiding something. Don’t you know you can’t hide from him?

Dex knows what you need before you even know it. A new pair of sneakers because the soles of your old ones are getting too worn down? He’s already found the ones you’ve stared at before in a department store window and is buying them. Tired and hungry from work? He’s placed an order for your favorite pizza and arranged the pillows and blankets on the couch just how you like them. Overstimulated from too much talking? He’s blocked your friends and family on your phone so they won’t bother you. You can always call them back later, he reasons. When you feel better. When he decides you’re ready. 

Dex looks out for you. Being an FBI agent, safety is always going to be his number one priority. You shared your location with him when you first started dating, but what if your phone died? He put an AirTag in your purse, buried behind some junk you’ll never sort through. He also put some cameras in the apartment just in case. Like the camera he put in your favorite potted fern. It has a perfect view into the living room. Just to make sure there weren’t any unwanted visitors while you were home alone. 

Dex knows your menstrual cycle by heart. Twenty-eight days, five days of a heavy period, with ovulation happening always around the fourteenth day. It’s good for him to know. That way he can prepare, like making sure there’s enough pads in the bathroom, that your heating pad is working, that he has enough tea and snacks for you, and that on the fourteenth day, he can get you cockdrunk enough that you don’t think to ask why he’s so intent on coming deep inside you, keeping you in the mating press with your hips raised with a pillow for a few minutes afterwards. 

Dex already has your future planned. He knows sometimes you struggle with big decisions, so he’s made it easier for you. He already bought your engagement ring, a beautiful two-carat diamond with a thin, gold band, and he’s got your matching wedding rings, as well. The wedding will be small, maybe about thirty people. In your hometown, at a church, to keep it traditional. He already has an idea of a wedding dress you’re sure to love. Dex has been looking at houses, too. There’s one in particular in upstate New York, near the Catskill Mountains. Woodsy. Isolated. Big enough for the four children you’ll have to run around and play. You’ll like the kitchen. 

Dex makes sure your life is free from things you don’t need. Clutter and junk in your bedroom, unnecessary plans that will just make you stressed out. He clears out your bathroom cabinet, too, throwing away old things you don’t need anymore, like expired bottles of Ibuprofen, old nasal spray, birth control, things like that. It extends to people, too. Coworkers who annoy you. Men that try and hit on you in bars. Friends. 

Dex would kill for you.

Dex has killed for you. 

Dex doesn’t stop loving you. Even when you cry. Even when you become afraid of him. Even when he’s locked away, alone for years with nothing but a metal spine and his own thoughts. He will never stop loving you. 

taglist

⋆˚࿔ fucking you slow after overstimulating you ⋆˚࿔

ִֶָ🪽་༘ p in v, yes slow, 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.

he’ll swat your hand away when you go to put a second straw in, or he’ll take your straw out. or, he’ll just grab your face in his big calloused hand to keep you still for him, making your lips pucker, and shove his straw in your mouth after he’s taken a good sip.

“see? there, not so hard.” it’s almost crooned condescendingly before he gives your cheek a final squeeze.

leaving him to just stare at your lips as they finally wrap around where his mouth just was, ignoring the way you glare at him. because all he could think about was that your saliva was mixing with his.

your saliva was touching his. your saliva was touching his. your mouth your mouth your mouth. he swallows his own saliva that’s pooled in his mouth at the thought.

people are sooo intimidated but you think that’s just crazy! you’ve never really understood it. see, the thing is: dex melts in your presence. he is the sweetest to you; he is attentive, gentle, chivalrous, kind, generous… everything your friends seem to exactly not think of him.

your guy friends hate him. they tell you that he says the weirdest things to them—like ominous warnings, threats to their lives even. but you call them delusional and deaf because there is simply no way! that is crazy! dex would never say anything like that :( they must have misheard or misinterpreted his words.

when you tell dex about it, he snorts and presses a kiss to your shoulder and reassures you that no, he definitely did not say that and yes, he thinks your guy friends are trying to get into your pants by talking badly about him. like they have a chance. which does make sense. more sense than dex threatening your friends’ lives, anyway.

your female friends think he’s… okay. a little intense, perhaps. certainly intimidating, but that one, you reason, is probably mainly because of his resting bitch face. dex just has that kind of face, you know? he just looks stern, serious. but he can’t help it, it’s literally how he looks, okay!

but you suppose it could be worse.

a few weeks into your relationship, you discover something: dex is highkey hyper co-dependent on you. it’s like he can’t be calm if he isn’t around you, like he is constantly anxious otherwise. you, teasingly, call it separation anxiety. you have no idea how right you are.

to other people, dex is this… incredibly intimidating-looking, super jacked guy who looks like he could kill you with one hand—little do they know…—but you get to see that other side of him: his vulnerable side.

because dex is absolutely miserable without you. you went to a friend’s wedding in a different country for a week, and seeing as you didn’t even know dex back then, you obviously didn’t take him with you. even though he pleaded and begged you to let him come with, he was going buy tickets on his own, he could look for a hotel in your area—but no. you turned him down with a giggle, come on, it was silly to spend that much money just for a week. besides, you reasoned with him, it was just seven days. it wasn’t that long.

turns out, it was. at least for dex. because when you come back, you find him moping all over the apartment, lifeless and depressed and absolutely miserable. like, the man doesn’t take care of himself, there’s bags the size of california under his eyes, he is overall just super tense, exhausted, tired and looks it, too. but the second he sees you though, it’s like the life is literally flowing back into him, and he brightens up immediately. like a flower finally receiving water after weeks of drought. he will then proceed to follow you around like a lost puppy, like he’s scared you’ll disappear again if he lets you out of his sight.

it is at this moment that you decide you will never leave him alone again. that poor man is suffering when he is not with you, and how could you ever put him through that?

dex knows he’s a little overwhelming. and he is so thankful that you put up with him, with all his little tics and needs. but he rewards you very generously, especially in bed, like when he’s burying his face between your thighs, tongue darting in and out of you skilfully, as he grinds against the mattress and moans because of how good you feel. if he’s honest, he loves eating you out more than any other position. mostly because he has you right where he wants you:

⋆˚࿔ 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.

someone stop me before I write a story about RE9! Leon Kennedy and his cute little agent partner that’s practically useless and just loves computers and mold/viruses.

and you’re just madly, disgustingly in love with him but think he would never like you because you think you aren’t cool and if you held a gun you’d probably (absolutely) shoot yourself in the fucking foot.

you’ve also seen the women he attracts and it makes you want to barf. they’re all gorgeous and you feel lackluster in comparison (you aren’t — GO GET YOUR MAN !! HELLO ???). but it doesn’t stop you from gaining a complex about yourself and how you’d never be good enough to attract his attention further than making sure you don’t fucking die somewhere.

anyways, you request a transfer because you have to get away from him. the stress of worrying about if he’ll die on a mission because you can’t help more than collecting good specimens to study and clinging to his bicep (!!!) when something happens, plus the melancholy of loving someone you can’t have is keeping you up at night.

Written for @junebugonjupiter 's Jealousy in June event!

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Pregnant Na'vi Reader

Tags: Fluff and comfort, pregnancy and nausea, jealousy (duh), reader is a brat but jeytiri love it - if there's anything you think I should mention please lmk!

I barely proofread this I hope it doesn't suck

Prompts 14 and 20

Word Count: 2.3k

Divider by @cafekitsune

Your mates were wonderful people, always sociable and chatting with members of the clan whenever possible. Jake moreso than Neytiri, she always has been a little shy, but she always says that you and Jake bring her out of her shell. You were sort of a mix of the two personalities, shy at first but able to speak up if Neytiri truly does not want to, as well as being outgoing enough to keep up with Jake in a conversation. You were also tough enough to handle things when needed, though sometimes it took both of your mates to wrangle you in for the sake of whoever had the unfortunate luck of irritating you enough to cause an argument. Though those situations are few and far between.

Silent treatment — B.P.

Paring: Benjamin Poindexter x fem!reader

Summary: You try to give Dex the silent treatment. Key word: try. (0.7k)

Tags/warnings: angst, sort of emotional manipulation, pathetic dex

A/N: English is not my first language and this was not proofread. Enjoy!

masterlist

There's a sick part of Dex — if there even is one that isn't — that loves to see you mad.

He loves the way your eyes burn with rage, the way you yell at him. God, don't even get his started on that one time you got so worked up, your hand landed on his face with a loud smack.

In his head, you getting mad at him is proof that you care. That you still want him.

The way you're reacting this time, though, is completely different.

title is self explanatory :)

1. during sex, you had a habit of touching him anywhere you could reach. dex made you feel so so good, you needed ways to release energy before you could come.

one way or another your hands would always end in his hair, long nails raking his scalp as you softly moaned out his name.

he really tried not to, but anytime he felt your hand brushing strands of hair from his forehead, or rake your fingers through his scalp, he would let out a soft whimper while shutting his eyes from pleasure.

2. for the most part, you and dex never faught. he was your puppy, you didn’t like something he would never do it again, you asked him to do something, you wouldn’t have to tell him twice.

but like all couples, some sort of argument would take place. your hands waved around in the air, aggravated sighs from your soft lips as you tried to get your point across.

meanwhile, dex sat and listened. hands folded, head down but eyes tilted up at you. he felt so good when you yelled at him, like he was worth fighting.

somewhere between cursing and pushing his shoulder, a whimper slips from his lips and then only would he calmly apologize and make you feel heard and understood.

3. he woke up from the ungodly sound of your alarm, you begged for 5 more minutes and he headed for the shower.

while reaching for his pain meds, he felt an odd sensation on his back. somewhere between sore and sharp aches.

he reached for his t-shirt and pulled it off.

turning so his back faces the mirror, he tilted his head and low and behold. he let out a pathetic whine.

light pink scratches littered all over his back. all different lengths and positions. the sigh brought a grin to his face. a boost of confidence filtered over him knowing he brought you so much pleasure, snippets of last night flashing in his eyes.

4. dex was very selfless, even with sexual activities. they always benefited you. so when you decided to suck his dick.

the soft pants of “thank you” couldn’t stop from his mouth as he massaged the nape of your neck. his eyes were shut tight, he couldn’t believe how good you felt.

as he felt himself reach his release, he couldn’t sum up the energy to speak. he was lost in how good you made him feel. dex couldn’t stop the desperate, needy whimper that echoed against the shower walls as you swallowed his release.

5. you didn’t like shopping, you dressed pretty simple and often wore the same pieces styled differently.

so when dex visits your apartment for the first time and sneaks in your closet. the whimper that he tried to suppress eventually came out when he slid a drawer open and found bras and panties of different styles and colors.

fuck, he couldn’t wait to see you in all of them, whether in bed or through your bedroom window.

6. some rare nights, dex was usually alone in bed. you were sometimes too busy to come over or just not in the city.

desperate dex would roll over to your side, take in the scent that you left on the pillow and hump the bed imaging it was you.

he would sob and whimper into the pillow just wishing you would show up.

7. oh he loved your tits, he loved everything about you but holy shit.

when he saw your hardened nipples through t-shirts or just naked in bed, his dick would twitch.

or when you bent infront of him to place a plate or a book, fucking whatever. and he saw your cleavage down your shirt. an incoherent whimper would slip his mouth as he would pull you down to his lap.

8. you complimented dex often, like…he was fucking perfect and you wouldn’t let him forget it.

sleepy after fucking or doing whatever together, your mouth would let loose and you would mumble heaps of stuff.

“god your back is..so broad”

“if you wanted, you could probably choke me with your biceps.

“baby, let me kiss your chin”

“i miss your fingers, dex” you once pouted, drunk as fuck.

every time he would be left speechless, often ending up a whimpering mess in your hold as you kissed down his abs or massaged his big hands in your smaller ones.

he couldn’t believe his luck as your soft body leaned over his whispering things you loved about him in his ear.

———————————————————————————

‘lol I told this guy my boyfriend is coming to pick me up can you come get me?’

It’s entirely too soon after his ‘👍’ and a confirmation of your location that his work truck pulls up, and with a disgruntled, meek “that him?” the guy is already well on his way back inside.

The poor vehicle’s driver side door nearly flies right off its hinges in Johnny’s race against the retreating man that’s given him a misbegotten reason to stick his tongue down your throat.