#soft dex

he begins to like it more when you start stumbling into him and using him as support, snuggling up into him when you inevitably get sleepy. he likes knowing you depend on him when you aren't sober.

soon he's holding your hand and smiling as you stumble to his car beside him, barely able to keep your balance and hugging yourself to his bicep as he practically drags you along.

he starts to drive you home until he hears your breathing slow and glances over to you absolutely passed out. he can't take you home and leave you alone in your apartment like this, can he?

of course not, so he changes course to his apartment. he carries you inside, and gently places you on his bed before stepping out to grab you a glass of water and aspirin. when back, he realizes it can't be comfortable to sleep in the clothes you wore. he gently takes your shoes off, tugging your jeans down and pulling your shirt carefully over your head. he then dons one of his own comfortable shirts over you. you stir and whine which makes his heart soar and his dick twitch, but he simply just tucks you into his bed and kisses your forehead before he leaves to get himself ready for bed.

he's a gentleman, of course, so he only sits atop his bed with you there and watches over you. eventually he's resting his head back and drifting off, too.

The apartment was quiet, apart from the buzzing of the fridge and the ticking of the clock.

You sat there, back pressed against the armrest of the couch as your legs rested on his lap. You held the rolled blunt between your thumb and index finger, flicking it every once in a while.

And Dex?

Oh, he looked wrecked in the best way—loose hoodie, sweatpants low on his hips, head leaned back on the cushion. You could see the way his chest rose and fell, slow and easy now. His hands, calloused and fidgety at first, were finally still. One rested on your thigh. The other tapped against his knee in a lazy rhythm.

“You good?” you asked, voice thick from your last hit.

He blinked at you slow, dazed. “Mhm.”

Pause. Then he smirked. “Didn’t know weed could make me feel like this.”

“Like what?”

“…Safe.”

Your chest fucking ached. You didn’t say anything, just passed him the joint again. He took it with a little more confidence this time—brought it to his lips and inhaled, eyes on you the whole time like he was waiting for approval.

You watched the smoke curl between his fingers. Then, when he exhaled and passed it back, you got an idea.

Without a word, you shifted, crawling over to him before straddling his lap.

“Whoa—” he said, voice cracking just slightly as his hands flew to your hips. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, tone soft. “Just wanna try something.”

You brought the joint to your lips, took a long, slow drag, eyes locked on his. Dex swallowed. Hard.

Then, before he could ask, you leaned in.

Your lips met his—not rushed, not messy, just slow and warm. He stiffened for a half-second, surprised, and then melted into it. You opened your mouth, exhaling the smoke gently into his, and he whimpered into you.

Swallowed it down like it was holy.

By the time you pulled back, his eyes were wide, pupils dilated, mouth parted just slightly like he was still trying to taste it. Taste you.

“Jesus,” he whispered, stunned. “Do that again.”

You grinned. “Say please.”

And fuck—he did. Quiet and breathless, he pleaded, “Please.”

You pressed your lips against his, again.

He held you tighter, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt like he needed something to anchor himself to. Like he wasn’t used to softness—especially not yours. His breath hitched again, chest rising quicker now, and you felt the way his body trembled just faintly beneath yours. It wasn’t from the high. It wasn’t the weed. It was you.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads brushed. Dex’s eyes were still half-lidded, pupils blown wide as he looked at you like he didn’t know where he was anymore. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe you’d just given him a kind of warmth that short-circuited whatever fucked-up emotional wiring he’d been stuck with since birth.

“Shit,” he whispered, voice rough.

You grinned, brushing a thumb across his cheek. “Good shit?”

He laughed—quiet and breathless—and nodded. “Yeah. Real good.”

The blunt burned between your fingers, but neither of you reached for it. Instead, you stayed there, straddling him while he looked at you like you were the first calm thing he’d ever known. You traced your fingers over the curve of his jaw, down the line of his throat. He let you, didn’t flinch, didn’t shift away. Just watched.

“I think I’m gonna be high for a week,” he murmured, blinking slowly.

“You’ll live,” you teased, brushing your nose against his.

His grip on your hips tightened, grounding. Like if he let go, you’d float away. “If this is what living feels like… then yeah. Maybe I will.”

The silence after that wasn’t awkward—it was golden. Just the hum of the fridge, the soft tick of the clock, and his quiet breathing under yours. You rested your forehead against his and felt his heartbeat—sluggish and steady, like it finally wasn’t trying to outrun something.

He leaned back slightly to look at you better. There was a flush on his cheeks now, not just from the high, but from the intimacy. The closeness. Maybe even from the realization that for once, he wasn’t afraid.

“You’re being soft,” you muttered, lips curving into a smile.

He raised a brow. “You climbed into my lap and kissed me like I hung the moon. That’s your fault.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss just beneath his jaw. “Guess I’m a bad influence.”

“No,” he said, fingers threading through the fabric at your waist. “You’re the only good one I’ve ever had.”

It shut you up. Completely. You looked at him, heart stammering like it didn’t know how to hold something that sincere. Something that real.

“…Dex,” you whispered.

But he just shook his head, lifting one hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing along your skin like you were fragile. “You don’t gotta say anything. Just—stay here. Like this.”

And so you did.

You leaned back in, arms sliding around his neck as he held you tighter. You stayed there until the blunt was nothing but a smoldered stub in the ashtray. Until the hum of the fridge faded into nothing and the ticking of the clock felt like a lullaby.

His hoodie smelled like old cotton and a hint of your cologne. His sweatpants were warm from your weight, and his chest—when you finally pressed your ear against it—was calm.

You didn’t need to speak. Neither did he. The silence held all the meaning.

And somewhere in the haze, he kissed your forehead. Like a thank you. Like a confession.

Because for once, he was safe.

And you were too.

mini taglist: @blxckwidxxw, @cannibalisticcorpse

dead dove: do not eat. afab/fem!reader unless otherwise stated. this is a space to share my own twisted desires/kinks including but not limited to: dubcon, noncon, bdsm, age gap.. inbox drabbles can be found under the 'dexdiary' tag.

do not copy, repost as your own, or plagiarize any of my work.

dex with a girlfriend that works as a kindergarten teacher. he sees her being so kind with kids, returning home full of drawings made of them and i find it so cute that him and his girlfriend are totally different and work in totally different departments. she’s just such a soft spoken and sweet girl and the kids love her, and sometimes he goes to take her from work and sees the kid hanging off her legs to hug her as much as possible, sometimes even refusing to let go. it’s just so cute guhhhhhhghhdhdhd

meowww i love this so bad.. you know the trend that's like "my hands look like this so hers can look like this" but it's dex's scarred, bloody hands versus each of his gfs fingers held by a little hand. this is what dex does what he does for. it always strikes him how lucky he must be to be with such a gentle, kind soul who values the livelihoods of the little ones so much. sometimes he feels unworthy of her, that he's too evil and mean and messed up, that he'll corrupt his gf... but she always reassures him and in fact makes him a better man in some ways.

i am under the belief that the kids would adore dex. he drops off her lunch, stops by on a break, picks her up and if they catch a glimpse of him they're all stumbling to him like "hi dex! what r u doing dex?! r u treating ms gf right?" n just bombard him with questions and tell him about their days. he always gently asks them questions back and ask if his gf has given them enough sweet treats for being good students, etc.

Because while your going to dye your hair or just wash it without takin a full shower

While you were standing in the kitchen

Talkin

I imagine him sayin or actually murmuring “let me do it”

He showers it very carefully avoiding to make your face get any water as much as he can,

Scratchin you scalp softly after your hair is full of shampoo to hear you either sigh from pleasure or gigling

And then he wipes it for you as you’re sitting down lookin up and then with hair dryer while he is smirking

mmmfph i think dex would luv to play with your hair regardless.. trusting him with your hair and handing over control of washing/drying it would make his heart rate accelerate.

i can just imagine dex walking into your apartment and finding you bent over the sink, colored water running down the sides of your face. your muffled "hi!" makes dex chuckle. he can see all the spots of dye you're missing washing off.

he'll set all his things down and come over, rolling up his sleeves and muttering "lemme help," as he softly swats your hands away and takes over. he's gentle and meticulous, making sure all the dye is off your hair and skin. when the water is running clearer and he's satisfied, he'll lather your hair in conditioner, too. once rinsed, he'll wring the water from your hair and towel dry what he can.

he smiles when you pop up, thanking him and giving him an excited kiss. when you say you'll let it air dry, he insists he wants to see your pretty new hair dye and offers to blow-dry your hair for you. he's watched you so closely over the time you've been together, he knows exactly how you approach your hair care and copies whatever he's seen you do.

ok now write a headcanon where reader is pregnant and dex is just doting on you 🙏🏻

wooweee dex would lowkey be the best baby daddy ever.. he ends up making you his absolute number one priority. he put the baby in you, so he'll keep the two of you safe.

dex loves to keep his hand(s) on your belly no matter how far along you are, but when he can feel the baby kick he'll curse under his breath and get so excited, smiling so warmly at you whispering "did you feel that, honey?"

he's also willing to satisfy any craving you might have, no matter how outrageous. maybe he'll grumble, tease you just a little bit, but he'd go to the ends of the earth to fulfill your every desire. wake him up in the middle of the night for specific french fries from a specific place? he might not appear happy, but he'll be back in record time with warm fries and some extra goodies for you.. and once you're full and content he'll cuddle you back to sleep. ^-^

lifting up your belly for you becomes a habit for him, when there's a lull in activity or conversation he'll come up behind you and lift your stomach to ease the weight. he loves listening to your sighs of relief and contentment.

occasionally (all the time), he's a little too protective. any whine, sigh, groan, moan that passes your lips and he's crouching next to you with his brows furrowed, caressing your face or running his fingers through your hair and asking what's wrong, what he can do to help.