Marvel Rivals Characters: do they grunt, moan, whimper, or pant?
MDNI
Grunts: Black Widow, Blade, Dare Devil, Hawkeye, Iron Fist, *Moon Knight, Punisher, Thing, Venom, Wolverine, Hulk
"oh yeah baby, just like that," they murmur in your ear, praise spoken just for you to hear. "you feel so good right now, keep doing exactly what you're doing." a low grunt pulls from their chest and their eyes squeeze shut in concentration. "fuck, you're gonna make me cum baby. You're making it really hard to hold out for you".
Moans: Angela, Captain America, Doctor Strange, Elsa Bloodstone, Emma Frost, Hela, Invisible Woman, Loki, Magik, Mantis, *Moon Knight, Phoenix, Rouge, Scarlet Witch, Star Lord, Thor
"yeahh just like that baby, just like that." another heavenly moan tumbles from their lips, you swore you could finish just from that sound alone. "come on, i wanna cum with you, you look so good when you do"
Whimpers: Dagger, Deadpool, Human Torch, Luna Snow, *Moon Knight, Namor, Spider-Man, Squirrel Girl
"oh my god, oh my god" they whimper out loudly, anyone around could surely hear them by now. "you feel so good, so good. i can't- baby i'm gonna cum"
Pants: Adam Warlock, Black Cat, Black Panther, Cloak, Cyclops, Gambit, Iron Man, Magneto, Mister Fantastic, *Moon Knight, Psylocke, Storm, **Ultron, White Fox, Winter Soldier
"fuck- hey, you doing good? yeah? good," they tuck their face into the crook of your neck, grazing their teeth over your skin. they pant as if they can't get enough breath, their body fighting against the need for air and the intensity of their pleasure. "shit i'm so close, are close too?"
*His different alters do different things
**the "panting" is the sound of his fans running on high. no I do not care it's ooc
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TAGS/WARNINGS: STRAIGHT UP SMUT MAN, lowkey cnc, fingering, fighting, blood, knife play, power dynamics, cum play, anger, hunter x prey dynamic. Let me know if I missed anything.
Synopsis: You and Dex are friends. You help each other out, stitch one another up, recount your heroic tales and victories because you’re both vigilantes fighting the good fight! At least, that’s what Dex has lead you to believe.
“Poindexter.”
Dex winces at the way you say it. It’s a bark, a command-harsh, biting, mean. He knows it shouldn’t bother him, that it should roll right off his shoulders. Why should he care? He doesn’t. He can’t.
He works his jaw, tongue sliding over his teeth like he’s trying to taste his words before he says them to you. He grins, lids low, uncaring.
Please say he looks like he doesn’t care.
“Y/N, it’s nice to see you again,” His voice is flat, as if he’s uninterested in this interaction, like he has other, far more important places to be. Like this time spent here, with you, is cumbersome. A nuisance at best.
And not at all like he’s about to go toe to toe with the woman he’s had feelings for over the past six months.
If he didn’t know you, he’d have said you also looked indifferent, angry at best. Your jaw was set, top lip curled ever so slightly-disgust? Probably. You’d spat his name like the thought of it lingering on your tongue made you nauseas. It was nothing like the way you’d said it so many times before. No, you’d been sweet before. Dangerous, yes, he knew what you were capable of. But you’d been sweet, especially to him. Understanding of his circumstances, wanting more for him, wishing he’d been treated better despite his condition. You’d made him want to be more, to do more, to feel. But Dex was an animal and he accepted that now.
And it pained him to see that it looked like you were itching to put him down.
Your tongue slides over your canines, hands flexing into fists at your sides, brows low as you look him over. He can see the anger, the burning rage behind your e/c eyes, and he understands why people are fearful of you. You hunt your enemies like they’re prey, and you do a damned good job at it. Matt had kept you on a tight leash at times, worried you may take it too far one day, take a life. You’d always told him he worried too much.
Dex wondered if today was the day you’d finally cross that line, if it was his blood you’d spill in a way that could not be salvaged.
He didn’t like the way it made his chest ache.
“You lied to me,” Your words were clipped, and your nose wrinkled ever so slightly afterwards, the way it always did when you didn’t like something. Usually you only did that when Dex spoke with you about something someone else had done to him. He’d gotten so good at being…well, good.
But how long could wild animals stay house trained?
“Did I?” He shrugged as he spoke, watching you carefully as he took a step closer. The weight of his blade in his hand felt familiar, and yet it didn’t comfort him the way it usually did. Maybe the idea that he may have to bury it within you felt too heavy.
I don’t have a choice.
“Everyone has a choice,” You’d said all those months ago. God, you’d sounded just like Matt. It had made him want to strangle you. No wonder the Catholic prick enjoyed your company so much. But Dex had stayed silent, you didn’t need to know that he knew Matt. He wanted his private life to remain exactly that; private. He’d wanted to keep you to himself. You cared for one another, patched up wounds, exchanged stories, shared meals and ensured the other got home safely.
Was it really his fault that you’d assumed he was a vigilante? No, no, it was on you for not digging better. It was on you for assuming he was good, for looking for the best parts of him. He didn’t ask you to do that. You did it on your own. You were foolish, you were dumb, not him.
Right?
You eyes narrowed at him, and he could hear your voice before you even spoke: “Omitting the truth is a lie, Dex!”
The last time you’d said that, you’d laughed as you stitched his shoulder. Matt had caused the damage, though you didn’t need to know that.
Except you didn’t laugh as you said it this time. In fact, you didn’t say anything at all. And it bothered Dex. He was supposed to know you.
Maybe not knowing you would make this easier.
Your head tilts as you regard him, and he watches the way your hair shifts as you do, mask forgotten in this moment. He supposed neither of you needed them now that the truth was out.
He can feel your eyes on him, feel the way you’re watching the way he’s breathing, the way his hands are flexing, his stance, where his eyes drift, all of it. You’re hunting him in the same manner he’s hunting you. He’s impressed, turned on, and angry. Hurt too, if he looked too deeply, but he can’t afford to do that anymore. Can’t afford to force his jaw to unclench when the scent of your perfume shifts in the wind and invades his senses. Can’t afford to let his gaze shift over your curves, or the way your suit hugs the taut muscles of your thighs. Can’t afford to acknowledge the hurt that’s so painfully evident in your drawn brows or the way your eyes are boring into his because he betrayed you.
Dex betrayed you.
The one person who’d had faith in him.
Whatever.
Right?
“You gonna kill me now?” Dex grins as he says it, pressing the tip of his dagger into his pointer finger, relishing in the way it nearly pierces the glove. “It’d be an honor to be your first.”
“I may have to,” Your voice is flat as you say it, like you’re accepting the circumstances you’ve found yourself in. Dex only blinks at you, seemingly unfazed by your bold claim. “Or maybe I’ll maim you. I think being paralyzed might keep that ego of yours in check.”
His smile wavers for the briefest of moments, lip curling with rage at your threat. How bitchy of you.
He can see the way your nostrils are flaring to let more of his scent in, the way your nails are lengthening, lips curling back over canines that are just a little too large to be human.
Mutant. That’s what people called you guys now. Huh, didn’t think he’d ever get lumped in with that lot.
“Feral,” You’d teased. It felt like ages ago that he’d been sitting at your table, the warm glow of your kitchen light bathing his greying hair in a halo. How ironic. “That’s what they call me. Maybe it’s because they’re scared of me.”
“They should be,” He’d shrugged, two hands wrapped tightly around the blue mug of tea you’d poured for him. Something about the herbs in it would help him heal faster, you’d said. He never believed in that bullshit, but the honey you’d tossed into it had tasted good. It helped that you’d licked the spoon before you’d stirred his tea. “One of these days I’d like to see you in action.”
“I stay in control,” You’d lulled, leaning against your counter. “I’m no Wolverine.”
But now, with the city buzzing beneath the two of you, and the darkened space of the rooftop providing the barest of lighting, Dex wasn’t so sure he’d come out of this as unscathed as he’d hoped. He’d betrayed you, and that was the only thing you’d said made you angry enough to lose control.
“You’re a coward,” You snarled, face tipping forward. Your stance shifted-lower, coiled, ready. “I can smell you Dex-you’re scared.”
He swallowed. “Maybe. Maybe I’m excited,” He shrugged again, cocking his head at you. “Maybe I’ll finally get to see if you’re all talk. If the big bad Y/N is as terrible as she makes herself seem.” He moved as if to bow. “Or if she’s still living in DareDevil’s shadow.”
You grinned for a moment and Dex cursed himself for thinking about how beautiful you looked. “I’m going to gut you Ben Poindexter, and then I’m going to suck the marrow from your bones and eat your insides.”
Oh.
He feels his cock jump at your threat. Honestly, mainly because he knows you mean it. The threat behind your words is very real and backed by the kind of skill he’s rarely encountered.
God, how was he ever going to get into a healthy relationship if the women he was attracted to were like this?
There’s a moment of tense silence, sirens and traffic blaring below you, the wind whistling through the stone maze of Hell’s Kitchen below you, and then you’re moving.
You’re fast, unbelievably so, claws outstretched and teeth bared-
But Dex is too.
He’s got his knife between his fingers before you’ve taken half a step and it’s whistling through the air.
He almost hopes he misses.
But he doesn’t, he’s Dex.
The difference? It doesn’t slow you. It’s sinks into the meat of your bicep with a sickening shlunk and you only roar in frustration. Dex barely has time to curse or pivot before you’re tearing into the flesh of his shoulder.
Ow.
He cries out, grunting, thick hand wrapping around your other wrist before you can land another blow. Fuck, he may actually have to hurt you.
As if on cue, you snap at him, teeth missing his chin by an inch or so before he’s recoiling and taking you with him. Fuck sakes, you’re strong.
“Don’t go easy on me now, Dex,” You spit, teeth grinding as you struggle to twist out of his grip.
He only grins again, eyes ablaze. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
The fight that ensues is exhausting. Ben Poindexter has been trained in hand to hand combat for years, and despite that, both you and that god forsaken man in red seem to be level or even one step ahead of him.
He’s gasping for air, hurling whatever he can get his hands on at you, landing hit after hit, a kick to the ribs, even had your hair in his fist at one point and yet despite all of it?
You’re kicking his ass.
He’s never seen anyone so angry. You’d put even Fisk to shame with the way you were tearing into him. Blood, either his or your own, stretched across your face, and you’d torn through his suit and flesh in more places than he’d care to admit. You were hurt too, limping if he paid too much attention to you. He’d hit your knee in a way that would require medical attention but despite that, you were still standing, still clawing your way through him.
Benjamin Poindexter realized you may actually kill him on this rooftop.
He also realized you’d have to because he didn’t think he’d be able to kill you.
It was a second long pause, maybe even less than that, but it was enough. He’d cracked, hell maybe even broken, a few of your ribs and you were wheezing. Barely, but he could hear it. If he could sink a knife between your ribs you’d go down, he could win-
He didn’t mean to take note of the way your eyes were glassy. He didn’t mean to notice the way your mouth had turned down. He didn’t mean to notice that you were nearly crying despite the fact that your claws were extended while you launched at him.
He did, however, take note of the resounding crack that rang out when his skull connected with the rooftop. A dull, low ache ebbed out from the base of his skull and he groaned, eyes fluttering shut.
Fuck.
It hurt.
It ached.
“You bitch,” He managed to drawl, the heel of his boot scuffing along the gravel beneath him as he tried to pull himself back onto his elbows. His vision was swimming, heartbeat evident as the dull pulse in his head intensified. He could only grunt when he felt you straddle him, eyes rolling back in his skull when he felt a long, sharp claw drag along his pulse on his exposed throat.
Goosebumps ripple across his skin.
“I should kill you,” Your voice is low, he can hear you trying to catch your breath. You’re struggling to breathe, the beating he delivered evident in the wheeze you can’t seem to shake. “Men like you deserve to be put down.”
Dex doesn’t even bother to open his eyes, smiling at your threat. He would have laughed if his ribs didn’t hurt so damn much, teeth pink from the blood pooling on his tongue. “Yeah? Do it then.”
His eyes remain closed as he shifts, hands shifting to rest on your thighs, the one’s pressing on either side of his damaged torso. He swallows thickly, ignoring the sickly sweet taste of his own blood, as he taps a gentle rhythm on your suit.
When he does manage to look up at you, he almost feels guilty at the way you’re staring down at him. Your hand is raised, claws flexed like you might actually sink them into his throat, like you may actually kill him.
It may not have been the worst way to go out. Pretty girl on his torso, angry, possibly tearing his throat out. Could be worse.
Right?
Except you look anguished. If his head wasn’t swimming, Dex would have been able to see that your hand was shaking.
“You lied to me,” Your voice is hoarse, breathing laboured, eyes wild. There’s blood running down your jaw and throat, lip split by Dex’s fist, uniform torn and bloodied by his knives. “I trusted you. Believed in you. Wanted more for you. And you lied!”
Dex can only release a breathy laugh, choking on his own bloodied saliva as he does. He turns his face to the side and spits, tongue flicking out over the torn flesh of his lip. He could have spat on you, splattered the front of your ridiculous costume in more of his blood, but he decides he should be nice despite the circumstances, despite the fact that he wants to spit on you, watch the way it’ll trail down your chest, see if maybe a touch of it will catch on your lip-
You roar above him and Dex is reminded of how incredibly dangerous you are. It’s as captivating as it is terrifying.
He stretches his legs, boots scraping on the bloodied concrete of the roof you’ve got him pinned to. He lets his hands settle on your thighs, thumbs sweeping over the curved muscle, before he’s smoothing up the expanse of them.
“That I did, sweetheart,” He tuts, as if he’s disappointed in himself. Maybe he is. He’d enjoyed you. “So what are you going to do about it?”
You lean forward, nose nearly touching his, claws still extended, threatening. “Maybe I should finally, finally, put the Benjamin Poindexter down. Let this city rest.” Your words are clipped, a near hiss as you spit at him. He can smell his own blood on your breath, see the way it’s turned your pretty teeth pink, see his own reflection staring back at him in your near blackened eyes. It’s haunting, the way he’s staring death in the face and yet he’s thankful it’s you who may finally deliver him.
Dex tilts his head, regarding you for a moment, before he’s reaching up, oh so slowly, to gently wrap his gloved hand around your wrist. He’s soft despite the circumstances, even going so far as to let his thumb rub a gentle circle over your pulse point, before guiding your claws to his throat.
“So,” It’s a hushed whisper, eyes half lidded as he gazes up at you, blonde brows drawing together. “Do it.”
Your pupils dilate, ever so slightly, lips parting as you make sense of what the criminal below you has challenged you with. Dex can see the confusion, the hurt, the pain that flashes across your features, before a calm resolution seems to take place.
His breath catches when he feels the pointed tip of your thumb drag over his Adam’s apple, your pointer finger trailing down his neck while you grin above him.
“Me,” Your voice is low, sultry. “Y/N, the one to take down Bullseye.” Your clawed thumb stops below his bobbing Adam’s apple, pressing into his skin. His breath stutters when he feels you pierce the skin, a small rivulet of blood collecting at the very tip of your claw.
Dex can feel his heart begin to pump a little faster, feels his chest constrict, like he’s suddenly high. His head feels like it could burst, tongue dry as his hazel eyes flick across your sharpened E/C ones.
Fuck.
He can feel your heartbeat on your wrist despite the gloves, can feel the way it’s picked up, the way your temperature has spiked. Is it the blood? His blood? The sight of it? Does the thought of killing him give you the same rush? You were an animal after all. Had Matt really suppressed your instincts? Maybe it was within you to want to kill. Maybe-
Dex’s mind is silenced when you suddenly lean forward, nose just barely brushing his. You’ve never been this close before. Despite all the nights shared together, countless conversations, stories, stitches, you’d never actually moved beyond a few inches of distance. Nothing had ever been…said, addressed. There had been tension, sure, but you’d also seemed hellbent on maintaining distance. It seemed like no matter how many lingering glances Dex lent your way, you remained firm.
Nobody could get too close.
Not romantically.
You couldn’t afford to lose focus.
He couldn’t either.
Right?
Except you were his only focus when he was fucking his own hand, desperately clinging to the lingering scent of your perfume on his clothes. You were his only thought when he was whimpering your name, imagining your mouth against his ear, murmuring his name. Maybe you’d be tough on him, mean even. Maybe you’d use that incredible strength of yours and pin him-
Dex can feel his cock hardening beneath you and he knows you can feel it. You’re straddling his hips, leaning over him, and you’ve got your claws against his throat-can you blame him?
Your face twists in surprise, eyes snapping down to your clothed core, the one currently pressed against his hardening dick, before you’re looking back up at Dex. Dex, who tosses you a wicked grin before his grip on your wrist was tightening and he was yanking you forward.
You almost yelped in surprise, but it’s cut short when his other hand is suddenly wrapped around your throat and the grip is bruising. A choked sound escapes you, eyes swimming with tears as Dex drags your face to his.
“Should have taken the shot,” He whispers, and he revels in the way his lips brush past your ear and God-did you just shiver?
It doesn’t take much to maneuver you, especially when you’re already exhausted and he’s managed to take you by surprise. It’s practiced, fast, clean-a leg hooked over your own, your momentum used against you and suddenly: Dex has got you pinned, gloved hand wrapped tightly around your throat, knife pointed just below your ear.
You’re groaning, lashes fluttering, hands instinctively coming up to grasp, weakly, at Dex’s arms. Hm, your claws had retracted.
Dex huffs out a long breath, sucking his teeth as he looks you over. Your skin’s started to bruise from where he’s struck you, hair matted-maybe you hadn’t had time to secure it-and your breathing is shaky at best. You’re exhausted, bloodied, battered.
Perfect.
“Too slow,” He croons, watching the way your face twists at the realization that Dex has the upper hand once more. He can see your pulse jumping beneath your skin, hand squeezing your throat. He’s delighted, giddy even, with the turn of events. The two of you have finally fought, shown one another what you’re capable of. No matter banter, no more toeing this ridiculous line with you, pretending to be something he’s not-something good, something worthy of you, of your time. He pulls back to look at you, really take in the situation the two of you have found yourselves in when he feels sudden tightness in his throat.
He can’t kill you.
Lying beneath him like this, lashes fluttering, cheeks flushed and lips bloodied, his own blood dirtying your hands, he realizes he cannot kill you.
He also realizes he’d never had any intention of it.
But the knowledge that he’d driven you so close to killing him had him feeling…delighted.
“What’re you waiting for, Dex?” It’s nearly a drawl, you’re obviously exhausted as you half heartedly shift in his grip. “Isn’t this what you do? Kill people? Even the one’s closest to you?”
Your eyes meet his when you say the last part, as if you’re challenging him, urging him to disagree with you. It was as if you wanted Dex to prove to you that he was exactly what everyone thought he was: heartless. He cocks his head at you, the corner of his lip lifting into a grin as he drags the edge of his blade along your jaw.
“Don’t you have any questions?” He taunts, thumb dragging across the middle of your throat. “Don’t you want to know why I lied? Why I hid who I was?”
His gaze slides across your pretty face, lingers on your mouth, before his eyes are boring into yours once more. He wasn’t anticipating such an emotionless return.
“No.”
His jaw ticks.
“Your explanation means nothing.”
Dex’s lip curls, eyes widening with surprise, and fury, at your words. He almost missed the way your lip shifted into the barest of grins.
“Why would I give a fuck about why some low life criminal hung around?” You scoff. “I can see why you have no friends, now,” You’re laughing as you continue, “Had to lie to me to get me to give you an ounce of attention.” You push your face closer to Dex’s, ignoring the way his knife presses dangerously against your throat. “You’re a loser Benjamin Poindexter. You mean nothing to anyone.”
Dex’s jaw is clenched, lips pulled into a thin line, rage coiling like a snake behind his ribs at your words. He knew you were only being bitchy and cruel to him in an effort to have him lose control. But why the fuck did you want that? To what? Prove a point? Have him kill you? Matt was already after him, hated him for what he’d done, so why not add another friend to that list?
“I kept you around like a pet,” You laugh, tongue sliding out over your top lip as you mock the man above you. “Because I felt bad for you. ‘This poor, lonely, loser of a man. Maybe it’s my duty to help him, to save him-’”
“Who in the hell do you think needs saving, huh?” Dex hisses, thumb pressing into the hollow of your throat. You nearly choke, hands flying up to his biceps as you struggle to breathe past his unrelenting grip. He pushes the corner of his knife into the skin behind your ear, grinning when you try to choke out a cry. It’s only the faintest of pressure, but it’s enough to pierce the skin. “Who do you think is going to find you up here?” He laughs. It’s cold, and cruel. “Matt? Where is he? Huh? You need help and where is he?”
Dex’s rage is beginning to boil over. The biting sting of your words has left him feeling betrayed and angry. He understood being enemies, that was something he’d grown accustomed to. But pitying him? Letting him stick around because you felt guilty?!
He felt betrayal and rage begin to gnaw at his gut, the biting teeth of the beast gnawing at his rib cage, begging to be set free, to wreak havoc-
You’re grinning. It’s subtle, the tiniest lift of the corner of your lip, bloodshot eyes welling with tears as you glance his way. Understanding washes over Dex as he looks you over.
“You’re trying to provoke me.” His tone is flat, cold, dry. Your lips split into a shit eating grin, and Dex marvels at the way his cock instantly hardens in his pants.
Fuck.
“Fuck you, Poindexter,” You spit, and he grimaces when it lands directly on his mouth. A dry laugh escapes Dex before he’s slamming his fist into the ground beside your head, knife gripped tightly in hand.
“You fucking brat,” he growls, hand slipping from around your throat to grip your jaw. It’s rough, aggressive as he forces your mouth open, eyes alight with fury. You’re laughing in his fucking face and he could kill you. Dex’s eyes scour your face for a few moments, watching the way you’ve lit up with laughter, before he’s suddenly pressing the flat part of his blade against your tongue. You startle, eyes widening as you regard the roughened blonde atop you. You make a noise, as if struggling to say his name before Dex is grinning down at you. “Not so loud now, eh?”
He watches you, enraptured, as you slowly bite down on the blade, teeth flashing, pupils dilating as you meet his gaze. Your words are muffled by the sharp, cool piece of metal that pushing your tongue flat but you try anyway, looking downright feral as you do; “Bite me.”
Dex feels his chest tighten, breath caught in his throat as he stares down at you. He feels like a starved man, the muscles in his thighs tensing as he shifts his stance over top of you.
You, in all your animalistic glory, were trapped beneath him with his knife in your pretty teeth.
“I think…” He started slowly, blinking as he watched the way your breath fogged the metal. “You like this.”
Your brows dip, eyes widening a fraction at his bold claim. Your grip on his arm tightens as he leans closer to you, nose nearly touching yours.
“I think,” He continued to drawl. “You like that finally, finally, someone can beat you at your own game.”
Sure, Matt would train with you, and he was good. He fought well and hard, In fact, he’d kicked Dex’s ass a few times now. But Matt was…tame. He kept himself, and others, on a tight leash. Everything was always accounted for, in check. And the odd time Matt did lose his temper, his Catholic guilt immediately followed suit and flooded his system. He had a moral compass and strict code that he urged everyone around him to follow. Honestly, Dex found it to be fucking annoying at times. Honestly, was he really a hero if the people he let free kept killing others?
But you, you, were something else entirely. You were a live wire, a caged beast. Dex could see that. He’d felt it that first night you’d found him bloodied and stumbling up the fire escape to his apartment. You’d assumed he was another vigilante, something akin to you and your Matthew, and he’d never denied it. But he’d seen how you moved, the way you consistently fought the urge to give into your instincts. What was it that kept you so in line? You weren’t religious, you broke the law, you’d cursed men and broken bones with ease and yet…through and through he found you there: at Matt’s side, taking the high road, the ‘right way’, playing the hero.
“I think you like that you have to try a little harder,” Dex was smiling out of the side of his mouth as he spoke. “With me.”
He huffed a dry laugh before he was licking his teeth, eyes narrowing as he dropped even closer to you, one hand planted firmly beside your head for balance, the other keeping the blade in your mouth as he lowered himself so that his chest was against yours, thighs encasing your own.
Your eyes widened, gaze wild as you frantically sought his, looking for an explanation.
“I think,” Dex’s voice had dropped, dangerously low as he looked you over, blonde lashes fluttering ever so slightly. “You like this.” His hips shifted as if to accentuate his point and he heard the way your breath caught when his semi hard cock pressed against your crotch. The thick material of your jumpsuits made it difficult to feel all too much, but there was no denying Dex’s arousal or the way his hips settled so nicely between yours thighs.
“Come on, Y/N,” Dex whispered, winking. “You’re never this quiet.”
If he didn’t know you, he’d have said you were scared. Pupils were so wide your eyes were nearly black, breath escaping you in short bursts, hands flexing like you couldn’t decide on how to hurt him to ensure your escape.
And survival.
But Dex did know you, and you were rarely scared.
So when Dex let his free gently brush your hair from your face and your eyes lit with rage, he wanted to laugh. Yeah, he’d always hoped you’d end up in this type of situation but he’d never actually allowed himself to want for it. You were on opposing sides of the existential war. A hero and the villain? Fucking? Your morals were too in tact.
But his weren’t.
Dex tuts quietly under his breath as he gently takes the knife from your mouth, frowning at you when you move to speak.
“For once, just stay quiet-” The handle is tapped against your lips. “For me.”
Your face twists in disgust, but Dex is no fool. He’s spent enough time with you to know you’re intrigued.
He shifts his weight onto his right forearm, the one still planted by your head, as he begins to let the sharpened tip of his blade run down the front of your body. It’s slow, almost cruel, as he lets the metal drag down the front of your throat. It catches for a brief moment on the collar of your jumpsuit before its descent down your body continues. His eyes are almost half lidded as he watches it slowly trail over the swell of your chest, over the curve of your breasts and down to your rib cage. He pauses for a moment when he sees your breath catch, the blade hovering just above your belly button.
“Nervous?” He almost grins as he says it, and he nearly laughs when he sees the way your mouth presses into a hard line. Always so frustrated with him.
Dex’s eyes flick back down to your navel, watching the way his knife smooths over the kevlar of your suit. It’s not long before it’s ghosting over your pubic bone. Dex stops, letting his eyes drag up your body before he’s meeting your burning gaze.
There’s a beat of silence, the sound of the city kicking up around you on the abandoned rooftop, before Dex is tap tap tapping the flat of his blade against your pussy.
You wince, nearly growling in frustration? Disgust? Anger? Possibly all three? He isn’t sure. Dex is quick, the blade leaving his hand for a second or so as he tosses it, now gently gripping the blade in his gloved palm. His eyes are focused oh so carefully on you, taking in every breath, every bead of sweat on your brow, the way your teeth are glinting as you struggle to even out your breath.
He grins.
You stiffen when Dex presses the dull handle of the blade against your core. It’s soft, but…demanding, as he gently prods where your clit would be.
“Shit-” It escapes you in a hiss and you nearly curse yourself, thighs tensing and eyes snapping shut as Dex begins to gently move the handle in circles against you.
“You fucking-” You start, eyes flying open but you startle when you meet Dex’s gaze. His eyes are half lidded, pupils blown so wide the hazel frame surrounding them is nearly lost, teeth barely showing in his lopsided grin.
“Stay still,” His voice is almost gravelly when he speaks. Soft, low, slow. Your claws extend, instincts maybe, but you actually fucking listen to him for once. Your breathing has picked up, and Dex watches you while your tongue glides out over your lower lip, teeth pink with smeared blood, but you’re still. He can feel the barely there movements in your hips as your muscles tense.
He knows you.
Knows you like this.
Knows you in a way no one ever has.
Because, just like him: you’re an animal.
And how often are you subdued? How often are you bested at your own game? Controlled, pinned, beaten?
The answer is never.
Except for now.
And Dex knows, knows deep within his bones, that you’ve craved this.
Maybe that’s why you liked Matt so much.
Maybe Matt could tame you. But could he match your wild frenzy the way that Dex could?
Never.
Dex sucks in a breath, the corner of his lip tugging into a smirk as he gently runs the handle of his blade up and down the seam of your suit, right where your pretty little cunt is, and sees the way your throat bobs as you swallow. He can see the way your nose keeps scrunching ever so slightly, the way your brows dip for the briefest of moments before you’re forcing your face back to one that indicates this hasn’t affected you. No, it couldn’t, right? Not Dex, not the handsome vigilante you’d been helping, not with the way his sweat and cologne were invading your senses, or the way his hair was hanging over his brow as he remained poised over you, or the way his pupils had grown so large the black nearly swallowed the hazel rings entirely.
No, not Dex.
Dex was smiling, a shit eating grin now as he watched your lashes flutter. It was only a moment, a barely there reaction, before you were steeling yourself again but Dex caught it.
“Aw,” It was a whispered coo, his eyes narrowing. “That feel good, princess?”
Before you could respond, your eyes snapping open, teeth bared, Dex had flipped the blade in his hand again. This time, the tip of steel was pressing gently against your upper thigh. Panic flashed in your eyes as Dex’s grin turned into something predatory and your ears pricked at the sound of your suit being torn. The tip of the blade was caught in a tear that must have happened earlier during your battle with Dex. You snapped your gaze downwards, watching in horror, and fascination, as Dex continued to drag the blade down the length of your inner thigh. It was quick, a simple tug of his wrist, but that left you exponentially more exposed. You felt the city’s air rush along your skin, the 6” tear leaving your inner thigh painfully exposed.
“Dex-” You barked, moving to reach for his hand but he only tutted in response, the tip of the blade now pressing into the soft flesh of your thigh. Anger flared through you, but you gritted your teeth despite it.
“Now now Y/N,” his tone was condescending as he continued to smile down at you. “Stay still and behave for me. We wouldn’t want you to accidentally hurt yourself, would we?”
When you swallowed it was audible, and Dex nodded at the sound of it, as if he was pleased with your cooperation. “That’s it.”
Dex was slow, methodical in his movements as he gently pushed the fabric away from your skin. The knife was carefully pinned between his thumb and palm as he let his hand ghost along the edge of the tear on your suit. He let his gaze slide along the length of your pretty neck and down your torso as his gloved fingers finally slid along the flesh of your upper thigh. Goose bumps had rippled across your skin, and he smiled lazily to himself when he felt you tense beneath him.
He finally let his gaze flick back up to yours, hazel eyes locked on your e/c ones when his hand finally slid under the fabric of your suit, fingers pressing flat against your hip. The blade was pinned between your skin and his fingers and you shifted as the cool metal pressed against your warm skin. His thumb was tucked in the crook between your thigh and cunt, the rough material of his suit pulling a shiver from you as he began to trace slow, slow, slow circles.
“Now,” Dex’s voice was just above a whisper. “You tell me; if I touch you, is my glove going to come back clean?”
His words surprise even him, and you, as he says them. He can’t remember the last time he’d been this bold, but there’s something about the way you’re pinned beneath him, and the way he can’t tell if it’s lust or rage clouding your eyes.
The possibility of it being both has his dick pulsing in his pants.
Your only response is the grinding sound of your teeth as you clench your jaw.
Dex grins again.
His hand shifts lower, palm still flat against your skin, fingers splayed, the blade pinned between your warm skin and his gloved hand, as his thumb glides under your suit and-
You hiss, eyes snapping shut when the rough pad of it drags upward, pressing through your folds and presses firmly against your flit. Your hips jerk upwards, head pressing back into the concrete as you involuntarily react.
Dex can’t tear his eyes away from your trembling form. You’re so desperate to control your reaction, to not even react at all, but he can’t help but watch you. He’s barely even touched you, has barely torn your suit to get to your pretty cunt, and he’s only got his thumb pressed oh so sweetly against your clit, and already he’s watching you bare your teeth at him.
Oh he can’t wait to watch you cum for him.
“Now now,” It’s a drawl, and he stills his hand, letting you catch your breath. God, you look so angry.
He loves it.
“Let’s see if my glove’s clean,” He’s still smiling as he speaks to you. “Because you shouldn’t want this, right?” He tips his head forward ever so slightly, tongue flicking out and dragging along his teeth. “Because I’m the bad guy, right?”
He presses his thumb against your clit once more when you’re silent. “Right? Answer me.”
You speak through gritted teeth, “Right.”
He nods, once, like he’s pleased with your response before he’s slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulling his hand free from your suit. The blade comes with him and you watch, in horror and embarrassment, as he raises his hand to examine it.
Despite the dark city sky, and the way he’s holding it so damn close to your faces, you see it; the wet sheen coating his thumb. In fact, the way it’s completely soaked the fabric.
Dex watches the way your face contorts.
You’ve been caught and you both know it.
His grin turns wolfish.
“Seems you enjoy me after all,” He taunts, peeling his eyes away from his hand so he can meet your own.
You open your mouth as if to deny it, to deny him, but Dex is moving before you can.
RIIIIIP!!
You gasp as the greying blond hooks his blade in your suit and tears along the fabric, completely exposing your cunt to the night air.
“Poindexter!” You snarl, but it’s cut off when he suddenly shifts, the hand that was once placed firmly beside your head now hooking into your hair. He’s still braced on his elbow, but the grip on your hair is painful as he forces your head to the side. He pushes himself higher onto his knees, forcing your thighs apart before he’s settling beneath them again. Your hands fly up to grip his shoulders, claws extended and pressing into his flesh when suddenly-
Dex watches you gasp at the contact, eyes snapping open to meet his.
He’s pushed two gloved fingers into you, his palm snug against your cunt, the pad of his thumb pressing into your clit.
His eyes flick across your face, feeling somewhat drunk as he takes in your reaction. Your mouth falls open, brows drawing together, a soft gasp escaping you as realization dawns on you. It feels good, he knows it fucking feels good because you’ve been soaked since he started teasing you, and he can feel your cunt fluttering around his fingers as you try to adjust to him.
And he knows you fucking like it.
Dex knows you; your pride would never allow you to willingly give in to him. The rights and wrongs of heroes and villains and blah blah blah. But if he took it? If he pushed you over the edge? What then? You couldn’t feel guilty.
And he’d been watching you hope he’d push you over the edge since he’d met you. You couldn’t allow yourself to want, no no no-you were too busy. Too busy for a man, for sex, for anything with feelings. What if they got caught in the crossfire? What if they were used as bait? Heroes and their martyrdom. Didn’t you guys ever get tired of your own bullshit?
“That’s it,” It’s a whisper, a soft coo, as Dex feels your thighs flex around him, like you were trying to draw them together despite his knees keeping you spread open. He’d cut along the seam of your suit and left you completely exposed, and fuck he should have taken his god damn glove off so he could actually feel you, but your nails were digging into his shoulders despite his suit and he couldn’t afford to waste any more time. “Take it, just like that.”
He’s slow to move at first, watching the way your face contorts as he slowly draws his fingers out of you, before gently pushing them back in. His thumb stays pressed against your clit, ensuring he’s gently grinding his palm against you when he pushes his fingers back into you. You’re fucking soaking already, he can feel it through the material of his gloves, and he lets out a shakey breath because of it.
“D-Dex,” Your eyes flutter shut and the corner of Dex’s lip lifts at how broken your voice sounds. Yeah, he fuckin’ knew it. Knew you wanted him. Knew you were his.
“Yeah, that’s it,” He murmurs, letting his face drop closer to yours. His skin ripples with goosebumps as the tip of his nose ghosts along yours. He’d never been this close to you before. He could smell your sweat, your perfume, even your blood. His blood too, he realized, as he continued to finger you. “Just like that.”
Your face was contorting in pleasure, and Dex just about creamed his pants when you finally, finally, let a soft moan slip past your lips. Your hands were still on his shoulders, claws extended, and he grit his teeth as they continued to bite into his skin. He didn’t care though, didn’t care the way they’d likely scar his skin, especially since they were sinking into him because of he was making you feel good.
“Dex,” This time it was a sigh and he felt you lift your hips, meeting his gentle movements as he continued to work you open. He could feel your breath ghosting along his lips, his brow furrowed in concentration as he focused on your expression. Your eyes were screwed shut, brow scrunched, cheeks flushed-he had to make sure you felt good, that this was good, that this was perfect-
It had to be perfect.
He had to be perfect.
For you.
Dex’s grip in your hair tightened just a fraction, gently forcing your head back, exposing your throat. He watched your face contort in pleasure, mouth falling open once more, canines peeking past your lips.
Fuck.
His dick was straining against his pants, hips lifted above yours and aching for friction as he continued to touch you. He was still pumping his two middle fingers into you at a slower pace, gently curling them upwards and letting them drag along your walls as he pulled them out again, the fabric of his gloves proving to be an aid in your pleasure.
He needed to feel you. Fuck, he had to feel your fuckin’ cum on his hands, now.
Dex pulled himself from you for a moment, cursing himself when you mewled at the loss of contact, eyes flying open in confusion.
“W-wait,” You started, seemingly pulled from your reverie as Dex reached up to bite the fingers of his cum soaked gloves. He tore it from his hand with his teeth, letting it drop onto your chest before he was reaching back down between your thighs.
Still, it was like the trance had been broken.
“Wait, Dex-” Your voice was firmer this time, coherent, as your hands lifted from his shoulders. He was almost sad when your claws pulled away from the tender muscle. “This isn’t-”
You’d reached between the two of you to wrap your hands around his wrist, as if to stop him from touching you, but Dex’s bare hand was now smoothing up your thigh, his fingers gently smoothing along the seam of your pussy.
He heard the way your breath caught, felt the way your thighs tensed, and he hummed as he looked down at you. You looked fucked out and he’d barely even started.
“Isn’t what?” There was an edge to his voice as he spoke. He paused, pointer finger tapping lightly against your sensitive skin.
You were silent, eyes searching his, as if you were desperate to come up with anything. He saw your expression harden, saw the way your jaw set, recognized the defiant and fucking stubborn expression you always wore started to come back into play. Oh fuck no, not now, not when he finally had you. Not when he finally had you making real noises, unlike all those other guys.
He leaned forward until his nose was against yours, eyes half lidded as he stared down at you.
“Tell me this isn’t right,” He murmured, and you nearly shivered when his hair fell against your forehead as he spoke. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
Defiance and anger rose within you like untamed beasts, but you couldn’t help the way the terrible, awful ache in your gut and the wet, desperation in your cunt seemed to overrule everything within you.
Dex smirked. “That’s what I thought.”
He was pushing two, thick fingers back into you then, pride and hunger surging within him as he felt you gasp beneath him. The difference in texture as his bare fingers pumped in and out of you was euphoric, even more so for him. He could actually, finally, fucking feel your pussy and how wet you were as he continued to touch you, feel how tight and warm you were, and how your cum was soaking his palm.
Dex’s hand tightened in your hair as he forced your head back, exposing your neck to him as he pushed himself deeper. He kept the heel of his palm pressed snugly against your aching cunt, grinding it into you as he curled his fingers inside you. Your reaction was instant, a loud cry escaping you as your hands flew to his arms for grip. Dex hissed when your claws sank into his biceps, canines dragging along your throat as he began to work you towards your first orgasm.
“Look at you,” He sounded wrecked atop you. “Pretending you don’t want me. That you don’t need me.”
You were a mess beneath him now, thighs trembling, hips stuttering at his relentless pace continued, the onslaught of pleasure proving to be too much because no man had ever been able to touch you so well and so accurately. Soft, broken cries continued to escape you, pitiful whimpers, and fuck, his name sounded so good-
“Say it,” Dex’s face was suddenly above yours, his fingers curling, pushing, pulling. “Tell me you need me.”
Your brows drew together in confusion, cheeks flushed as you met his gaze. He looked borderline delirious, like a caged animal.
His thumb was suddenly pushing mean circles against your clit, grip tightening to a painful degree in your hair.
“Say it!” He snarled, and you felt hot, wet tears pool in your eyes at the overwhelming sensation.
“I-I need you!” It was broken, pathetic as you cried out. You were shaking, your impending orgasm creeping up within you in a way you’d never experienced before.
“Say my name when you say it,” Dex snapped and you cried out, tears spilling over your cheeks.
“Fuck, I need you, Dex! Dex, I need you, I need you, I need you-” You were delirious beneath him, crying out when you suddenly came all over his fingers. A long, low wail was pulled from you as Dex continued to work you through your orgasm, his pace brutal despite the way you were shaking beneath him.
Dex continued to pump his fingers into your fluttering cunt, only slowing when he realized you couldn’t handle it anymore. You were flushed, cheeks tear stained, and shaking beneath him. Dex couldn’t tear his eyes from your face, watching every shift and movement as you slowly came to. He still had two fingers tucked neatly into your soaking wet cunt, gently pulling his other hand free from your hair so he could run a thumb along your cheekbone.
You were slow to open your eyes, blinking softly up at him, warm despite the city air on the rooftop. Dex was staring down at you, pupils so wide it was startling, jaw working as he looked you over.
“What-what’re you-” Your voice was broken, exhausted as he slowly pulled his fingers free from you. You winced at the loss of contact, still feeling bleary and somewhat delirious as he gently dragged the soaking digits across your cheek bone. When he lifted his fingers up towards his face to inspect them in the dim light, they were pink with the mix of blood and cum. Dex regarded them for a moment before he was pressing them against his tongue. His eyes fell shut and he moaned softly, tongue swirling slowly, sinfully, around his thick fingers.
You swallowed loudly at the motion, pussy clenching softly despite having cum only moments before.
When Dex finally looked down at you again, it was predatory and dark.
To note: I'm not an x reader writer like I used to be and I ain't starting again but I do love writing headcanons for my babies.
Blade:
•"I got better shit to do than this."
•He's still not moving though, is he?
•Is very warm.
•Rests his chin on your head
•Makes you feel extremely safe.
•Probably rubs his thumb back and forth over your wrist or where your pulse point is on your neck.
•Grumbles
•"Could be out there, killin' suckheads... You really that comfy like this?"
•You're already half-asleep.
•He finds this adorable.
•You could not torture that admission out of him.
Wade Wilson:
•"Yeah? You wanna get all snuggly with the ugly duckling, babycakes?"
•He smells like bacon (I had a huge scar on my knee once, it smelled like bacon no matter how much I washed, and he's covered in scars, so...). And a lot of cologne, like he's really trying to cover up the bacon part. Also there's some bleachy, lemony something or other in the mix.
•Will pull you RIGHT on top of him.
•His arms are tight around you and you can't move or otherwise he'll complain
•"You're making friction happen. It's making me feel some very un-wholesome things during this very wholesome cuddle, snookums."
•There will be groping. You're going to have to accept that.
•"That? Oh, my hand just rested there. Naturally."
•Will NOT shut up.
•Might start trying to quietly serenade you.
•"Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose..."
Peter Parker:
•You snuggle up to his side and he has to hide his delight.
•"Oh, hey. Just... Make yourself comfortable."
•He'll pull you into his side and maybe kiss your forehead more than once
•His hands roam. Not because he's trying to escalate anything! He just... Does Not Know Where To Put Them.
•One's playing with your hair. The other's on your thigh. Then the one in your hair is on your hip and the other is screwing with your fingers.
•Eventually, you hold one and rest your palm over the other when it wraps around your waist. Just to keep him still.
•He talks a lot, but not in a Wade way.
•Funny stories from patrols, stupid nerd facts, goofy little anecdotes about the best places to get food in Queens.
•Eventually, he'll get quieter. Softer. He'll tell you secrets, little things no one else knows.
•"Sometimes I wonder if I was supposed to get bitten. If it was—god, this sounds lame—fate, or something. If I was supposed to become Spider-Man, or if I was just... In the right place at the right time. Makes me wonder if it would've led to you either way."
•He yawns like a cat; silent and adorable. When he gets quieter, he gets sleepy.
•This is your favorite version of him.
Kurt Wagner:
•If you're laying down, he's there, right on top of you, eyes glowing like a cat.
•"Care if I join you, schatzi?"
•Not that it really matters.
•You're stuck now. Better hope you don't have to pee or something. He'll pout.
•You called him your 'sexy weighted blanket' once. He found this absolutely hilarious.
•"I suppose I am very fuzzy. Just like a blanket, ja? Your favorite blanket."
•He'll nip at your neck, just because he likes doing it.
•If you play with his hair or scratch his back, he purrs.
•He almost always falls asleep.
•It's not his fault his partner is so comfy!
Steve Rogers:
•Oh my god.
•This is the safest you will ever feel.
•He likes holding you after particularly taxing days.
•Rubs your back or upper arm
•Acts like you're the one who needs the relaxation.
•Talks all sweet and quiet
•"You're so good for me. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm gonna keep doing it."
•He's warm-ish; just a little cold, like when you flip over a pillow mid-sleep.
•The serum made him the perfect soldier but it also made him the perfect cuddle buddy
•He smells like liberty and the best cologne you will ever smell. What is that? Pine? Bergamot?
•Even if you ask, you won't get a good answer.
•"Oh, my cologne? I don't know. I... I just bought what smelt the best."
•God, he's just ever-so-slightly ridiculous.
•You love him.
Johnny Storm:
•It is... Warm.
•Seriously. You may start sweating while spooning.
•He heats up more when he's happy, and, well... He's really happy when he's with you.
•If you try to get some distance from your warm-ass boyfriend, he will not be having it.
•"Hey, hey, hey, no. Where're you going, firefly?"
•You mumble about the heat, and he pouts, nuzzling into your neck like if a furnace were a puppy were a human.
•"You can't handle a little heat? Baby, it's what you sign up for when you date the Human Torch!"
•He'll roll you over onto your back just so he can lean over you and present his best puppy eyes.
•"Come on. Stay."
•It's unfair. He knows you're weak for him.
•So, you stay, and he lays down right on top of you, and you're still sweating.
•After a bit, he feels a little bad.
•"...I'll turn on the ceiling fan."
Matt Murdock:
•"Come here, please."
•It's soft, quiet, coming from the either the bedroom or the couch, depending on how lazy he's feeling.
•He waits until your footsteps pause in the doorway, and then he deploys his methods of manipulation.
•His arms go out, he offers his most adorable smile, and you're sold. He doesn't even need to ask out right.
•You lay down beside him, he pulls you close enough to drape over his chest.
•"Just... Stay. Like this. For a little while."
•Everything is quiet. You usually fall asleep, but not Matt.
•He counts heartbeats and breaths, he rubs your back, sometimes he'll give you a shoulder massage, if you stay awake long enough for it.
•He cherishes the fact that you feel safe enough with him to be like this.
•Sometimes he'll ask you to bring whatever book you've been reading. He loves listening to your voice.
•You play with his hair between page turns, all the other noises in the world go silent for once.
Peter Quill:
•There are three things Peter loves doing with you when it's quiet and nobody else is around.
•Dancing, you can probably guess the second, and... Cuddling.
•He loves it the most, honestly.
•He specifically likes pulling you into his side, ear buds shared, listening to music and eating whatever unhealthy space snacks are in the bulkhead.
•He'll attempt to feed you things you've already wrinkled your nose at.
•No, I swear, I know it looks gross, and it smells gross, but once you get past the first couple chews, it's great, baby!"
•He'll tell you stories about his adventures, movie plots that he's passing off as his adventures—you've seen every single one, but you don't call him out on it—and little memories he has with certain songs.
•His arm is around your shoulders or waist, and his fingers never quite stop tapping out beats on you.
•He's always fidgeting.
•He'll start singing to you, if there's a long pause in conversation
•...He's not good at singing.
•"If you like piña coladas, or getting caught in the rain..."
content: Dex never does tolerate anyone touching what he deems as his.
words: 2.4k
cw: MDNI 18+ p in v, bloodplay, choking, attempts at assualt (not Dex), canon typical violence, reader is not a good person (unless you ask Dex), they are both insane, but in a hot way, possessive!Dex, not proofread, because I hate reading my own work, lmk if I missed any
a/n: he deserves his unhinged gf in my opinion. this idea came to me listening to r u mine? by arctic monkeys on a two hour drive.
You weren’t good. Not truly, and you never hid that fact from anyone. He had known this from the very start. As a long trail of blood had been what led him to you.
To most it would have been a blaring alarm to stay away, but Dex never had been normal. So alas the darkness inside you called out to him, luring him in like a siren song.
You were a trained weapon. You were much alike, pawns for the government to control, but you now had freedom. You were a free lancer, taking odd jobs ridding the streets of men no one would miss.
You were slightly good where it counted. You didn’t kill women and children. You were some sort of protector over them if anything and it was enough to convince himself that you were in fact good. At least enough for him.
He loved you. He adored you, and you were absolutely everything to him.
The problem was despite all his devotion you got bored. Once you had seen beneath the layers of charm, you saw the truth. You saw the rot that claimed him, and you didn’t try to put back the disguise.
Even worse. You like it. Loved it even. The sick and twisted that you had long learned exactly where to poke to cause it to come out full tilt.
And mayhaps you weren’t good and true like a North Star, but you were the thing that guided him nonetheless.
He knew it was a game. It was your thrill just as much as it was his. He should stop playing into your hands, but he couldn't stop no matter how hard he had tried. He always ended up right where you wanted him. The only thing that changed was the amount of time it took you to get him there.
Tonight it took hardly any time, and he was sure that was on purpose.
He knew the second he walked through the door that you weren’t home. It didn’t take him long to track you down. That had led him here, and as soon as he arrived he knew it was a game as you were here without your usual side kick that you took out when you actually wanted some companionship other than him.
He would have ended up here regardless, to check on you. To make sure that nothing happened to you despite the fact that you were more than capable of taking care of yourself.
The flashing lights and loud music of the club truly did nothing to distract him as he kept his gaze trained on you. The man in front of you was a problem, and he was getting ballsier by the minute, inching closer. Soon he would have the audacity to touch you, which would always be where Dex lost.
Or won? The object of the game truly depended on who you asked. The man that usually died at the end of the night suffered a loss.
But to Dex… he won either way. He ridded the streets of another man that would dare breathe the same air as you and was often rewarded with your mouth, hand, cunt or even sometimes all three.
You could feel him even if you could not see him. He was here with his eyes on you, it was only a matter of where, and the thought brought a smile to your lip. You leaned forward, your hand finally running against the man’s arm and for a moment you thought you could hear a jaw clench, but during the music you weren’t sure.
What you were sure of is that there was a ticking time bomb watching you and you could do nothing, but feel the adrenaline running through your body. The wet spot gathered in your panties as it clenched around nothing, wishing Dex was buried inside you already.
The agent’s eyes swept over the exits again as he began to make a plan of attack for the intended target. It was somewhat insulting, the man you had chosen tonight, but he imagined it was last minute.
He had caused this after all with a text stating he was going to be late, and so tonight was on him. Though he would have taken the blame even if it wasn’t, because nothing could truly ever be your fault.
He felt a small sense of satisfaction watching as your eyes scanned the club, you knew he was here. You were as connected to him as he was to you, a constant tether keeping you both attached to the other.
The man’s voice…Brett?Brent? Pulled you from your thoughts forcing you to look back at him, “Huh?” you asked. The distraction could easily have been passed off as not hearing due to music and not lack of interest.
“What is it you do?” Brenden? Bart? then asked. You shook your head, that name didn’t sound quite right either.
“I am an influencer,” you lied, with a grin spreading across your lips.
“Oh, cool! Are you popular?”
“With a certain audience.”
That was not so much a lie. You were “popular” with a certain audience, though most of them wanted you dead.
“Why don’t we go get some air?” you suggested, getting bored of this game. You forgot how annoying you found most men. You let out a sigh, turning back letting your eyes scan around searching for him one last time, but wherever he was hiding was out of your direct view.
You wrapped your arm around the man’s arm…Brayden? Brantley? You still couldn’t remember, and you tried searching for it in your memory, but decided it really wasn’t important to the objective of tonight.
You slipped out through a hidden door into the alley and watched his face light up in real time. He thought he was going to get lucky. They always thought that they were going to get lucky, and you wondered what part of their brain drove them to that conclusion.
You had been nothing, but friendly. Only touching him once to come outside, but even that did not step over the line. “I am sorry to inform you that you are not getting what you want, and you should probably walk away.”
He scoffed, “What the fuck are you taling about?” Your eyes moved down to his hands watching as his hands bawled into fists. You could feel the anger radiating off him, and it made you frustrated. They never could just take the warning.
You only smiled, “I mean something bad is going to happen to you if you don’t walk away. So I am advising you to walk the fuck away.”
You turned your back, testing him, and he failed just like you expected. His arms wrapped around your throat squeezing, cutting off your air supply, “I am going to assume you are fucking with me, and give you a chance to change your mind,” he hissed into your ear.
If he was smarter he would have noticed how calm you remained despite the fact that he had his bicep squeezing into your throat, and that he had the ability to stop your air circulation.
But the smart ones never did get lured into your game.
You titled your head back like you were giving in. He lowered himself to you and before he could quite realize what was happening your teeth clambered down around his ear. You could feel the metallic taste on your tongue coating your canines.
He let go of you shoving youf forward as he let out a cry of pain, “You fucking bitch!” He stared at you a moment, debating, before he finally gave in.
You let him grab you by the throat slamming you against the wall. Your head rattling off the concrete causes you to let out a groan, “You have been teasing me all night! You fucking owe it to me now!” he hissed, spit flying into your mouth as one of his hands roamed down groping at your chest.
His free hand moved to his ear, blood dripping, onto his skin. His hand now squeezed harder around you at the confirmation that you had broken skin.
You let out a sigh, “I was almost going to save your life,” you told him.
His eyebrows drew together, “Huh?”
You smiled at him, the blood staining your teeth. His grip suddenly went slack around your throat as he fell to the ground. You let out a laugh as you turned toward the entrance of the alley as the man of hour, your man, quickly approached you.
“I couldn’t wait any longer,” he told you, eyes trained on the target on the ground attempting to crawl away despite the knife lodged into his chest.
“You lasted longer than I expected you too, baby,” you told him. His eyes snapped toward you when he noticed you lifted the black material of your dress. A holster strapped to your thigh, a gun on your outside and a small blade on the inside.
A sense of something close to excitement filled him, watching the flash of silver through the air as you wrapped your hand tightly around the knife. He sat back watching you as if he was admiring an artist painting their art work.
You gripped the man’s shoulder pulling him to his back quickly, swiping the weapon across his throat, the man’s blood staining against your hands.
Dex felt giddy, almost boyish as he watched you, digging the blade further, as if it was nothing, and he was sure to you it was. You had done worse. He had witnessed you performing worse for sport.
You turned toward him, standing, the blood moving against your thighs as you placed your knife back in the holster. “Did I do good?” he asked, his voice was slightly pathetic, searching for your approval, but God it turned you on the very same.
That was the difference between Dex and the dead man on the ground and the ones that had perished before him. He was loyal, he was devoted and took your every word like a direct command and would not step over any line that you did not wish.
“You did so good, baby. How long did it take you to find me?” you asked, moving toward him, slowly.
You circled him slightly moving to lean back against the brick wall, watching him. He looked already wrecked and you hadn’t even laid a hand on him yet.
“Once I got here, under a minute.”
You hummed as you nodded your head in approval, “Good boy.” He preened at the praise, reminding you more of a dog than a man. “Do you think you deserve a reward for being such a good boy?” you questioned.
Before he could answer you brought your hand up to your face. He watched you carefully as you took in the red stained skin, as your eyes lifted up meeting his. Your mouth wrapped around your fingers licking the blood off them causing him to groan.
“Please,” he begged
You could have prolonged this, to make him whiter, and even have him drop down to his knees, but you needed him just as much as he needed you. “Come here.”
He waisted now time, shooting forward to attach your mouths together. It was rough, your head colliding with the brick behind you, pain shooting through your skull, it did nothing, but cause your cunt to drool even further.
Teeth clashed, as your tongue moved, sweeping inside his mouth swallowing his low moans as your hands moved. You made quick work of his belt, as he dipped lower, nipping into your throat as he pushed your panties down your legs.
In a flash, his cock was out and less than ten seconds later he was fully buried inside you. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned, and you wondered if he was going to cum right then and there.
It was a possibility. The fore-play of the evening was too hot and heavy for both of you. Neither of you would last long. It was only a question of who would topple first.
Your hands moved lacing through his hair giving him a harsh tug, as his fingers gripped the fat of your thighs bruisingly as he held you up against the wall. He lifted one of his knees to help better support you.
You went to question it, but did not need to. Dex’s hand wrapped around your throat squeezing harshingly, enough to cut off air circulation and hopefully to paint your flesh with black and blue reminders of his fingers.
You let out a laugh, something that would be regarded as manic to most, but it only fielded his pace further, as you clenched around, gripping him as if he would dare withdraw from you before you were finished.
He continued to fuck up into you like a mad man. It had taken a lot of work to get him to this point. To help him take what he wanted, to show exactly the pace and speed you wanted him at.
It was never about where he was hitting as his cock moved in and out of you. It was about how, and he had been a fast learner, eager to please as always.
He continued to hit the spot that caused you to see stars, over and over again without any needed guidance. Your head tilted back smashing against the wall again as the air supply started to dwindle.
The fact that he could have killed you then would have scared any sane person. It would have caused most to scream, squirm, try and get away from the man.
It caused you to finish. To allow yourself to succumb to the please, as your vision went white. Your nails breaking the skin at the nape of his neck as he clenched you clamp down around him like a vice.
You felt weightless and if it wasn’t for him supporting you then you would have fallen to the ground as if you were paper. His hand moved from your throat back to his hip as he further his pace now chasing his own high.
“You’re mine,” he grunted, “He touched what is mine," he added, as if that was an excuse for the blood that covered both of your hands.
“All yours baby,” you confirmed, as you could feel him bury himself further, his cock twitching inside you as he filled you to the brim.
“Mine. Mine. You are mine,” he muttered into your neck.
You moved, kissing the top of his head, “I am yours, Dex. Only yours.”
Thinking about a reader who finds out about Matt being Daredevil and doesn't question whether or not he's blind because "why would someone lie about that?"
In a world with people such as thor and iron man, it's really not that big of a leap that Daredevil could be blind and so for the first time in Matt's life, someone is able to accept him being Daredevil and still being blind without the immediate questions of "but, are you, really?"
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I have this idea in my head for a Matt Murdock x Parker!Reader story. She’s a lawyer too perhaps but related to Peter Parker. Potentially just a female Spider-Man scenario, like they’re both vigilantes in NYC? Idk does this exist? If it’s does lmk PLS
Summary: You thought you'd have enough time with Matt when you two escaped, but happiness comes with consequences
Warning: violence, weapon use, death
a/n: This took so long to write! this will be the last part of this series, so I hope you enjoy!
Matt breathes in and out his nose, lying on a bed. The sun that warmed his face lets him know it's about breakfast time. He hears a soft grunt next to him, moving their hand closer to his naked chest.
He kisses your forehead, making you snuggle closer to him.
"Morning." He whispers.
"What time is it?" You ask, groaning in his chest.
He chuckles a bit, feeling his chest vibrate.
"I think it's almost ten?" He guesses.
You turn around and see your clock on your night stand to make sure.
"9:50 a.m., You must be a wizard." You joked, making Matt hold you closer as he laughed more. You were then both at eye level with each other, taking in each other's presence.
"I'll make us breakfast" he whispers, kissing your temple. You groan a bit, but you feel hungry. Sitting up, you see him get out of the bed as you see his toned body while wearing sweats. You smirk, throwing yourself in his pillow. You suddenly hear a ping from your phone and reach out to see a text on your home screen.
Your breath gets stuck in your throat, seeing it was from Wesley.
Fisk is getting impatient.
You straighten yp, trying to think of a response.
Ever since your disappearance last week, you told Wesley that you wanted more time and you'll return with Daredevil yourself. You and Matt haven't talked about it since not wanting to pop the bubble you two have made together.
I'll give you what you want Saturday night.
You see that he read it, but didn't reply. He knows that you're able to deliver, or else your life depended on it.
As you get out of bed and head to your kitchen, you caught a whiff of pancakes and eggs.
"I wanted to serve you in bed." Matt says, as he's still flipping food on the skillet.
"I'd rather be here with you." You said, hugging him from behind.
Soon, you two ate by the dining table and lounged around in your living room. You haven't gone out of your luxurious apartment, fearing that Fisk's spies would catch you in public.
For the past few days, they were either full of passionate nights as you drank white wine in your bedroom or the picket fence life when you two would mindlessly dance around your house listening to your record player.
Each moment was blissful.
Now you were on the couch, kissing every inch on Matt’s face as held you tightly.
“I gotta ask... when you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?" Matt asks.
You hum in thought, biting your lip.
"A music teacher."
"Really?" He asks as you two sat up.
"Yeah, I always loved music at a young age. During college, I had to find an internship in order to graduate. I saw a flyer for a part-time job at a public school. I think they just needed the kids to join a curriculum after school so their homeroom teacher wouldn't burst into flames. I applied and got the job as a music teacher for the rest of the school year playing piano, ukulele, and guitar. Guess those kids made an impact on me 'cause I loved it so much."
"Wow, that's pretty cool." Matt says.
"Yeah, took me back to simpler times. Guess you can say I'm in the wrong profession." You chuckled, hoping he'd join in.
But there was dead silence.
"Don't, don't go back to them." Matt says.
You look down at your lap, as the uneasiness of this topic was hard to avoid now.
"If I stay, they're going to find us. I can't let that happen." You said.
"Then we go to the feds, I know some people who can help." Matt assured you, but you get from the couch.
"You know damn well no one escapes from Fisk."
Matt gets up as well, feeling the anger build.
"Then we'll find another way, together." He says, holding your hand
You look down, your heart breaking. This was the man you've been hunting down, but also the person you've been falling hard for. He's wanting to give everything up, for you.
"I know what we could do, but that means ending him... for good."
Matt feels helpless. He's tried his hardest to do what's right, to not submit to the sins he has already left behind.
But being here with you was his saving grace, as he never felt more alive in his life than with you.
He closes in the gap between you and holds you close, as his features crumble down.
"I would choose forever only if it’s with you."
You hold his face in your hands as you connected foreheads.
"We'll finally get that happy ending, together..."
You two then planned to get Fisk offguard. You'll lull Fisk into a vegetative state with your powers while Matt fights off anyone that stops your way. The only way to start this plan was if he got backup. So when he appeared at the office with you by his side, Foggy and Karen were upset. Matt and you told them of how you got your powers and that you've been working for FIsk all of this time.
"You broke my friend's heart, tortured him under the orders of your boss that's been trying to kill him, took him away for days without us knowing, and you want us to help you?" Foggy asks in a rage.
Karen looks at you, betrayed.
"Taking out Fisk like this isn't right, you know it too, Matt."
Matt held your hand as he speaks up to his friends.
"The last time I went after Fisk, I thought I lost an inch of my life. I am here, asking you to help us and end this fight for good."
You look at them as the guilt began to crawl on your back.
"What I did wasn't right, but I had no choice. Fisk thought he could form me into something sinister, but not anymore. I'm done with fighting, we're done with hiding."
Foggy looks at Matt, worried. When he realizes that you never let go of Matt's hand, he saw that you were worried too.
"Damn it." Foggy mutters as he lightly punched the desk in front of him.
He looks at you two, placing his hands on his hips.
"What do you want us to do?" Foggy asks.
"I'll deliver Matt to Fisk at a new shipping port, we'll sail across the bay and we'll take him out before the ship anchors. You'll wait for us at the destination and drive us out."
Karen crosses her arm, unimpressed.
"Fisk will know if Matt is at full strength. I'd think he'll notice he's not beaten to a pulp." Karen says.
You give Matt a side glance as he tightens his grip on your hand.
"That's when you come in. My powers have no limitations, so I need you to stop me if I hurt Matt by placing him under a spell."
She shoots up from her seat.
"You are not doing that to him!" She says, overprotectively.
Matt takes a step forward.
"It'll be the only way Fisk will know I'm not at full potential. She said it will only last about an hour and I'll return back at full strength. I trust her."
Karen shakes her head and left the office, not speaking to you or Matt. Foggy chases after her.
"Well, that was better than I expected." Matt said.
You huff when you sat down on the desk, staring out at the window.
"They don't want to lose you, I'd react like that too."
Matt joins you on the edge of the desk and lowers his head to the floor.
"We thought this out, right?" He asks.
You scoff and give a dry laugh.
"Only you could make a joke at a time like this." You said, nudging his shoulder.
You look at him, feeling a sort of guilt.
"Did you mean that you said? That you trust me? I mean, I almost killed you."
Matt moves his head to your direction.
"I do. More than you know."
You place the side of your head on his shoulder.
"We really didn't think this through." You said.
"They'll come around. I promised I'd come to them first if I wanted to take down Fisk, they have every part in this fight as we do. Then, we can live the lives we always wanted, together. "
You smile at the thought of a provincial life with Matt, making your heart shed off the ice it was once protected by.
"Together." You said, intertwining your hand in his.
Wesley and Fisk come out of the car at the meet up. They both look slightly irritated as they await you.
Soon, they see a car drive up and see you dressed in dark attire. Your leather heeled boots echo onto the pavement.
"Where were you?" Fisk asks.
"I thought to have fun with the devil himself, wanted to see what was all of the trouble since your guys can't catch him."
Wesley walks up, his jaw locked.
"Survivors said that you left them to die when you let him escape." He says, joining his hands in front of him.
Your gaze darkens, but you scoff.
"You really going to trust them? They were sloppy: made his restraints lose so he fought his way out. It was their fault, so they had to pay the price."
Fisk didn't reply when Wesley turned to him, trying to see your game.
"Where is he?" Fisks asks.
You turn around and walk towards the trunk of your car. Fisk motions to Wesley for him to follow you. When you open your trunk, It reveals a body bag, but Wesley isn't impressed.
"Open it." He demands.
You show no emotion and unzip it, revealing the masked Daredevil.
"Used my powers, he's pretty useless if you want anything out of him." You said.
Wesley turns to Fisk and nods his head.
"Zip him up and we'll have someone take him in. We need to talk, privately."
"Fine." You said. You left the car as you followed Fisk and Wesley to a private room on the ship. The room was small, but very elegant for Fisk's comfort. Windows surrounded the area as you see the front deck and the night sky. Once you settle, Fisk pours you and him a drink.
"I have to admit, you surprised me." Fisk said, cooly.
"You know I always deliver." You said.
"That is true. Some had doubts." Fisk said, giving a side eye to Wesley.
You cross your legs, giving an innocence look. Wesley never liked you before.
"Oh really?" You ask, taunting him.
He doesn't display much emotion, but you know he's biting his tongue.
Fisk gets out of his chair and walks around the room.
"Don't place the blame on him, some doubt came from me as well. I know how rebellious you can be, including your... love affairs."
The hairs on your neck started to stick like pins. You remember getting your powers for the first time. You felt invincible, wanting to lure men you attracted and left them for dead. Wesley had to clean up the mess like he always does for you. Fisk told you that caving into your powers is a dangerous thing, especially when they're driven by desire.
"I'm not like that anymore, you know that."
He gives a dry chuckle as he puts down his cup.
"Yes I do. You changed a lot. But I need to know where your loyalties lie."
A light brightens outside. You get up from your chair and peer down, almost gasping.
Dozens of bodyguards surrounded an unconscious Daredevil that was chained to the ground. He was forced on his knees, his head lulling side to side.
"I'm surprised you didn't unmask him." Fisks asks.
"I didn't see the fun in it." You said in a small voice, your eyes still locked on him.
Fisk comes closer to you, coldly smiling.
"I want you to do the honors." He says.
You swear you felt your heart dropped in your stomach as you look up, almost horrified.
You didn't have time to respond as Fisk gave you a box.
"A gift from me. What better way to use it then on the devil of Hell's Kitchen?"
You forced yourself to fake a smile.
"It'll be an honor."
Once you walked away to the staircase, you try your hardest not to waiver. Everything was set in slow motion. You arrive on the deck, as all eyes were on you. You uncover the box's lid and see a gun sitting on the cushion like a diamond necklace.
Typical of Fisk, dramatizing everything he did
Your eyes centered on Matt who still looked unconscious. Your cold hands lifted the gun from inside and you lifted it up in the air, slowly raising your arm and facing it to the one you loved.
"Hey." a whisper called out to you.
You look down and see Matt lifting his head, grinning in a small manner.
"Still have faith in us?" he asks.
You couldn't help but smile in relief.
"Still do, keep your head low."
You twirled around to the guards and let out a scream. Everyone is forced on their knees, trying to cover their ears but it was no use. They were powerless under your voice.
You know their will be more guards coming your way and helped Matt out of his bonds.
"We really need to stop meeting like this." he joked.
You chuckle, as you try hard to not kiss him when he throws quips like that. You help him to his feet and hear more coming.
"How many do you think are on the boat?" He asks.
"Maybe 30 tops." You said.
"I handled more." He said, ready to throw his punhces.
"Apparently, you don't know me well enough." You said. The first guard that came charging at you both, you dodged down and swooped him from under his legs, knocking him out as you strike him with your knee.
Matt was impressed, but shortly stopped as he punched another guard.
You two were almost invincible, fighting side by side. You turn around, thinking it may be over, but Fisk looms over you with fury in his eyes.
You were about to open your mouth, but Fisk grabbed you by the throat and lifted you in the air.
Matt turns around as he hears you struggle and ran towards you, but Wesley stepped in his way, pointing a gun at him.
"Not your turn yet." Wesley said in a monotone voice.
All you could do was try to wriggle out of Fisk's grip but it got harder to focus.
"I gave you your gift, I gave you a career, and this is what you give back to me? Betrayal?" Fisks screams.
All you could do is smile wickedly at him with hysteria.
"Guess I'm not the villain you'd thought I'd be."
You found a pocket knife in your pocket and took it out, slicing Fisk's arm. He lets go of you, screaming in pain. You landed on the floor, already feeling the bruising around your neck. When you look up, you see Matt trying to get to you. Little did he know, Wesley was pointing his gun at him.
"No." you whispered. With your last strength, you got up and drew in a breath, releasing one final song.
Fisk falls on his knees, trying to shut out your voice as well as Wesley. But the gun went off, and you only had enough time to hold onto Matt as you pushed yourself and Matt overboard.
You felt the impact of the water as your body hit it, and swim upwards. You gasp for air, trying to look for Matt. You see him struggle a few feet away from you, so you scream out for him so he could hear your voice.
He holds onto you tightly as you grabbed him firmly.
"Don't- let go" You stammered as you helped him steady himself in the water.
Fisk and Wesley get up and look over the ship, as they lost you and Daredevil in the darkness of the night.
"What now?" Wesely asks.
"Right now, we'll assume they're dead. There's bigger fish to fry." Wilson said as the two make their way back inside.
As morning rose, Foggy and Karen were sitting in a rental.
"They should have came hours ago." Foggy says.
Karen looks down at her phone, trying to see if any of you texted or call.
"Still no reply."
Foggy shakes his head and unbuckles his seat belt, getting out of the car.
"I need to get out, I can't stand not doing anything."
They were parked by the opposite dock of where you promised to meet them, and Foggy decided to walk down the rocky path that connected the water. He looks casually over the water, thinking he sees an abnormal rock that the water pushed forward. But somehow, it looked more round and red, with two pointy ears sticking out.
"Karen!" Foggy yelled out, as he started running towards the helmet. Soon, he sees his friends' bodies as they washed up on shore. Matt still clung out to you as both of you appeared unconscious.
Foggy tears Matt off of you and performs CPR.
"C'mon man." Foggy whispers, as he keeps pushing down.
Karen runs over and sees what's happening and begins to pale. She resumed running as she tries to perform CPR on you.
Soon, Matt coughs out water and tries to breathe.
"Matt buddy, we're here," Foggy says, trying to calm him down.
"Where- Where is she?" Matt asks as he was still coughing. Foggy was about to point out that Karen was trying to resuscitate you, but his face fell. Karen could only look down at you with blood on her hands, seeing the bullet wound in your side.
Matt could smell the blood, that was all he was smelling.
"No, no no no no." He murmured, trying to crawl to you. Foggy tried to help but pushed him aside.
Matt held your cold body in his arms, as he tried to heart beat or hear you say something, anything to him
"Come back to me." Matt begged, rocking you in his arms.
He screamed out in pain as his two friends stood behind him, looking at their friend who lost everything.
Matt walked along the sidewalk, smiling to himself.
He finally came to his destination at a busy entrance to a catholic school. Matt took out his visitor's pass and walked along the hallways.
"Hi Mr. Murdock, we've just prepared the room for you." Shelly, the middle aged receptionist said as she took his arm.
"Thanks for having me come, Shell." Matt said.
"Of course, the kids love you. Especially since you're dating their music teacher." She said, opening the door.
"-now everyone! I'd like you to welcome Mr. Matt Murdock from Nelson, Murdock, and Page: Attorneys at Law!" A voice said out loud to busy kids.
They all cheered as Matt enters to the front of the room, folding his walking stick.
"It's great to be here! I work at a law firm that I and my friends made together..."
He talked about his job and had a few questions from the kids. But the last one that made him slightly turn was when he was going to marry their teacher.
The dismissal bell finally rang and all the kids left, saying goodbye to their guest speaker and teacher. A pair of heels goes up to Matt, smirking at him.
"I hope I didn't bore them." Matt said.
"You didn't, they loved you." You said, smiling.
You survived the incident from the boat two years ago. You didn't know if it was your powers or if the bullet go through all the way: you were still alive. Matt could hear a faint heartbeat and told his friends to drive you to the nearest hospital.
You woke up a few days later, seeing Matt by your side. Since then, you two became closer and you found a great place to restart your life, working as a music teacher at a catholic middle school.
"Shall we head out?" Matt asks.
You hum in agreement as you and Matt planned to get something by the cafe next door and have a small picnic.
"Yep, I'm starving. Anything else planned?" You ask jokingly.
Matt chuckles as he had a ring in his pocket as he wanted to propose to you.
"Eh, Got a trick up my sleeve. Nothing too special."
You roll your eyes as you hold Matt's hand as you walk out of your classroom.
"Be careful, Mr. Murdock... I'll torture it right out of you. I always have a lasting effect on you."
Matt grins before kissing you as you made it outside.
