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amberlynnmurdock · 2 months ago

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Reciprocate the Feeling

Pairing: Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter x F!Reader

Genre: angst and smut oops, 18+ content

Summary: You and Dex aren't technically allowed to be together, but that doesn't stop you from seeing each other–and having feelings. Where your strength is with words, Dex's is with touch.

Words: 2,221

It wasn’t allowed, what they were doing.

Well, it wasn’t allowed in the obvious sense. No one told them they couldn’t be doing this—it was one of those unspoken things that everyone knew wasn’t allowed.

Did that stop them?

It never does.

She breathes him in like it’s her first breath of fresh air after holding it in for so long—gasping for air to fill her lungs—gasping for him to fill all her senses. Her heart was hammering in her ribcage from the adrenaline it still brought her—the adrenaline he made her feel. It only made her that much more attached to him, more than she already was. The physicalness of it all only made it stronger. Her feelings, that is.

Dex nudged his nose against her cheek—they were that close—as a way to gently push her in the direction he wanted her to go. Dex, the trained FBI agent, skilled sniper, who has seen many a horrid view and has done even worse (all a part of the job) gently pushes her with the tip of his nose as a way to indicate he wants her in his bed. It wasn’t shocking to him that he was capable of doing something so gently. It was shocking that she obliged. She knows what he’s capable of—knows he’s got a sniper sitting in his closet, locked behind a safe—and yet, she obliges. And yet, she trusts him. He’s not sure how he managed to earn that from her.

He’s never done anything to her that could make her think she shouldn’t trust him. In her eyes, he worked for the FBI. He was a good guy. He was the handsome sniper who kept to himself but somehow could only open up to her. He was just Dex in her eyes. Her eyes were now closed, lips attached to his. Dex guided her in that gentle way he knew she liked. His hand caressed the back of her neck, and his other used the small of her back to hold her steady. He walked her backward into his room.

There was no need to shut the door behind him and lock it. It was just the two of them, safe in his apartment. The outside world didn’t matter when it was just them like this. There was no work, no FBI, no tasks, or any of the harsh, mundane things he dealt with on a daily basis. It was just her in front of him, in his hands. Her soft skin and soft hair were between his fingertips. Her lips were on his. Her hands were on his shoulders. He gently lays her down. The warmth of his lips is gone as he pulls back to look down at her.

“Come back here,” she whispers with a mischievous smile, bedroom eyes looking up at him as he knelt on the bed between her legs.

“Yes ma’am,” Dex says equally as quietly. He mirrors her movements as he mirrors the way she speaks to him sometimes. If she indicated she wanted to be touched, he touched her. If she spoke softly, he did too. It was his way of ensuring he wasn’t doing anything wrong to make her leave. He wouldn’t dare to do something to have her out of his grasp. His hold.

He leans down again but this time snakes his arms underneath her, lifting her further up his bed so her head lays on his pillows. She was light as a feather in his arms. He pushes away her hair so her neck is exposed for him to taste. Dex traces the hollow of her neck with the tip of his nose before pressing gentle kisses on her skin. She turns her head more and closes her eyes. She places her fingers in his dirty blonde hair and scratches his head. Dex loves it when she does that.

He meets her eyes again before leaning down and kissing her lips. He held her gaze for a moment, wondering what thoughts were happening in her head. He was absentmindedly playing with the hem of her leggings, timid to slide them off her legs. Dex was never as forward as she was when it came to getting intimate, but he made small, intimate gestures—small ways to ask for permission, without using words.

“You can take them off,” she tells him softly. She found it sweet that he was acting this way. She’s never been with someone who touched her as gently as Dex did.

Dex nods, ever so slightly, and wraps his thumbs on the inside of her leggings, slowly taking them off her one leg at a time. Her left ankle rested on his shoulder. He ran his hand up the length of her leg, caressing her skin.

“I don’t let anyone touch me the way I let you, Dex,” she tells him in that same soft manner. Dex doesn’t know how to react. He just holds her gaze as he continues caressing her leg. Her other leg is between his parted knees. He turns his head to kiss her ankle. The more she opens up about her feelings, the more he wants to touch her. It was his way of reciprocating. Her feelings met with his physical touch.

“Does someone else have access to you?” Dex asks her, his face darkening at the question. He was teasing, but how she worded her sentence before tempted him to ask anyway. Dex runs his fingers up and down her legs.

Immediately, she shakes her head before she speaks. “No. Only you.”

Even though he knew the answer, Dex still let out a sigh of relief. Good—he was still the only one who had her attention. All of it. He had to keep it this way, whatever it took.

Dex kisses her down the length of her leg, holding onto her waist with his other hand. He wants to have her completely exposed to him, but not yet. He gently takes her leg off his shoulder and leans over her again, forehead to forehead. She closes her eyes as he kisses her again. She presses her lips on his, feeling his skin as soft as leather, brushing against her cheeks. She didn’t know when it happened, but their hands were interlaced now, with Dex pinning them on either side of her head.

He pulls back for a moment after sharing another deep kiss. Dex looks down at her, amused by how she looks so comfortable in his bed—comfortable to be beneath him. After everything he’s been through and all the secrets he’s kept locked up inside, he never thought someone like her could end up in his bed like this. And time and time again. She keeps coming back—he keeps letting her.

“What are you thinking?” She asks him quietly, a hint of a smile on her face. Now it was her turn to be amused by him.

He looks away from her, feeling seen. “Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, Dex,” she replies. She squeezes his hands. “Tell me.”

That’s the part he can’t do. The telling—the forming of words to accurately describe what he feels inside. She was so good at it. If he asked her the same thing right now, he’d bet she would say it without difficulty.

“What are you thinking?” He asks her, mirroring the hint of a smile.

“I’m thinking about… how much I like being with you,” she says easily. Dex knew it. “I’m thinking about how I feel connected to you.”

He’s equally terrified and amused at what she says. But he doesn’t let it show on his face. He looks serious suddenly, jaw clenched at the word connected. He wished he could reciprocate the feeling—the very foreign feeling of connection—that he was almost sure he felt with her. But wasn’t, at the same time.

The only way he can respond is with physical touch. Not with words.

He’s playing with the hem of her thin black underwear now. He slowly folds the top to expose where he wants to see but doesn’t completely pull it down. He’s asking for permission again.

“Take it off,” she whispered.

He wanted to, and he will soon, but he wanted to soak in this moment. He’s not sure how many more moments they’ll have like this together. He didn’t want to take it for granted and he especially didn’t want to rush anything. He knew that for sure. Because the most constant pattern in Dex’s life is he can never keep too good of a thing. Good things sometimes came but they never were for him to keep—for it to belong to him. It wasn’t in his cards.

He flips the top of her underwear again and covers the exposed skin.

“I will,” Dex whispered. “But not until I take my time first.”

She sighs and closes her eyes. She feels his fingertips trace her ribcage as he pushes her shirt up. He unclips her bra from the back and slides it off her. Dex didn’t hesitate to take a nipple in his mouth, licking her sensitive bud until he felt it harden against his tongue. When it was, he moved to her other nipple and did the same thing.

He pulled back and ran his hands down the length of her side, taking the image of her in and putting it to memory. He continues caressing her skin, not touching any intimate parts of her. She likes that he doesn’t.

She can see his hardness through his jeans. She reaches to touch him through the soft fabric. It disrupts his caressing only for a moment as he closes his eyes and realizes how badly he needs to be touched—by her. He feels his cock harden even more the way she rubs her hand back and forth. The feeling is so intense he has to take her hand away as he catches his breath.

He crashes his lips down to meet hers, taking her lips in a wet passionate kiss. She wraps her legs around his waist and brings him closer, feeling his hardness between her legs. Dex pushes against her and breathes deeply to control himself. He doesn’t want to take it there tonight.

“Do you want to—“

“I don’t know,” he says. “Can I just keep touching you?”

“Yes,” she says. “That’s fine with me.”

Dex slides her shirt off her, so she’s completely naked from the top. He kisses the skin between her breasts and holds his hands at her waist. He kisses down to her belly button. His fingers play with the top of her underwear again. This time, he’s ready. But he looks up at her once more for permission.

“Yes.”

Dex slowly pulls her underwear down her legs until they’re completely off. She lay there fully naked in front of him. And all he wants to do is take her in. Every curve, every movement her body made. He starts with his thumb at her clit, brushing feather-like strokes and watching her react to his touch. He knows she likes this. It was written all over her face.

“Do you trust me?” Dex asks.

“Yes,” she nods. He’s amused again at her honesty and ease at answering anything he asked. In response, Dex lowers his mouth to her wetness and kisses her heat. She presses her head further into his pillow and closes her eyes as Dex dances his tongue in her wet folds, slowly and taking his time. He traces his tongue agonizingly slow up her slit and stops to gently suck on her clit. He pulls back momentarily when he hears her moaning and kisses her inner thigh. He goes back to kissing her heat and takes hold of her hand as she finally orgasms against his mouth, her wetness coating his lips.

“Dex,” she breathes out as she reaches her climax, heavy breathing and body shaking, fingers tangled in his hair. Before she can even think, Dex already has her wrapped in his arms, holding her until her heart rate returns to a normal pace and she’s breathing steadily, no longer shaking. He holds her and kisses her shoulders as she nuzzles her head in the crook of his neck. Dex is staring outside his window, grateful the world is outside and they are safely tucked inside, away from it all.

After a while, he feels her fall asleep in his arms. He’s running his fingers through her hair, unable to fall asleep. After what felt like an hour, he felt her stir in her sleep. She kisses his neck and pulls back to look up at him.

“I should go,” she says sleepily.

“You don’t have to,” Dex gently protests. “I want you to stay.”

“Are you sure?” She asks, clearly unused to the invitation.

“Yes,” Dex says. That was the thing he was most sure about. She sighed back into his embrace. He held her tighter than before.

He just liked holding her. He liked having her this close. To take it that far would mean the completion of what they had and shared was coming soon. Just one more night of pining—of holding it in and letting actions speak for themselves.

#bullseye #wilson bethel #benjamin poindexter #benjamin poindexter x reader #dex #dex x reader #bullseye x reader #ben poindexter x reader #benjamin dex poindexter #benjamin dex poindexter x reader #i forget how to tag these #reciprocate the feeling #daredevil #daredevil born again

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urdreamydoodles · 17 days ago

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THE DEVIL'S MARK — A Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter One Shot

Pairing: Benjamin Poindexter (MCU) x Fem!Reader

Description: You are in a toxic relationship with Benjamin who is obsessed with you.

Words: 1060 words

Daredevil: Born Again brought back my love for the MCU, specifically the Netflix shows, and Bullseye. DD: Born Again is so damn good.

There’s a moment, just before the blade strikes its mark, where the world stills. A breath held between fate and inevitability. The calm before the kill.

Dex savors that moment. That quiet heartbeat where precision becomes destiny, where all the noise in his mind hushes and the world makes sense—clean, ordered, obedient.

But you, you are the only thing he has ever aimed for and missed.

And the failure is intoxicating.

—

The first time he saw you, he didn’t know he was already doomed.

You walked into the room, and something inside him—something carefully conditioned, calculated, controlled—fractured at the seams.

Dex was used to knowing everything about a person before they spoke. The way they held their shoulders, the twitch of their fingers, the betrayals of their breath—tells written into the body like an open book. But you were a riddle, a cipher, a weapon wrapped in silk. He couldn't read you, and it made him reckless.

So, he studied you. Obsessed over the smallest details. The way your lips parted slightly before you spoke, the exact cadence of your voice, the subtle tilt of your head when something amused you.

He mapped you in his mind like a target, memorized the landscape of you until he could recall the details with deadly accuracy. He told himself it was about control. That knowing you meant owning you.

But the truth was uglier.

He needed you.

He needed you like a bullet needed a chamber, like a knife needed flesh, like a man on the edge needed a push.

—

The first time he kissed you, he left bruises.

Not on your skin—he could be careful when he wanted to be. No, he bruised deeper than that, down to the bone, down to something fragile and aching inside you that you didn’t even know was there.

You kissed him back, reckless, wanting. And when you pulled away, breathless and dazed, he knew—knew—that you were already his.

But Dex didn't want just your body. Didn't want just your lips, your touch, your soft sighs in the dark.

He wanted your thoughts. Your fears. Your secrets.

He wanted the darkest parts of you, the ones you hid from the world.

—

You realized too late what he was.

Maybe it was the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching. Like a predator watching prey. Like a hunter measuring distance before the kill.

Or maybe it was the way he always found you, no matter where you went. The way his fingers traced your skin like he was writing his name there, claiming you in ways deeper than touch.

By the time you understood the depth of his obsession, it was already too late.

Because you loved him.

Because no one had ever seen you the way he did, stripped bare of pretense, laid open like a wound, worshiped and devoured in equal measure.

Because the darkness in him called to the darkness in you.

—

Dex doesn’t believe in fate.

Fate is random. Sloppy. Unpredictable.

But you?

You were placed in his path like a perfect shot, a trajectory leading straight to him.

He would do anything to keep you.

And when he whispers your name in the dead of night, when his fingers tighten possessively around your wrists, when his breath is hot against your skin and his voice is a low growl in your ear—

You don’t pull away.

You never do.

Because you are just as lost as he is.

And maybe, just maybe—

You don’t want to be found.

—

At night, you are his religion.

Dex worships you with his hands, his mouth, his breath, his hunger.

There is nothing soft about him, nothing hesitant. He is a man with a target locked, a bullet chambered, a blade already sinking into flesh—precise, deliberate, lethal. And you are the mark he never intends to miss.

He doesn’t take you like a man in love. Love, as the world defines it, is something gentle. Careful. Tender.

Dex doesn’t love like that.

Dex loves like violence.

He loves like he’s carving his name into your bones, like he’s etching himself into your soul so deeply that no one else will ever be able to erase him.

And you let him.

Because what he doesn’t know—what you would never, ever tell him—is that you love it.

You love the way he needs you like an addict needs a fix. You love the way his hands tremble, the way his breath comes ragged against your skin when he’s trying to hold himself back.

You love the way he never really does.

—

There are no slow undressings, no careful caresses beneath candlelight.

Dex doesn’t make love to you. He claims you. He takes what is his, again and again, until you are breathless and shaking, until his name spills from your lips like a plea, like a prayer, like the only thing you have ever known.

He bends you beneath him like a force of nature, like gravity, like inevitability.

He leaves bruises—finger-shaped brands along your hips, bite marks at the curve of your throat. He watches them in the morning, tracing them like proof, like evidence, like he’s afraid they might fade.

They never do.

—

It’s in the aftermath that Dex is at his most dangerous.

Because when the storm of his need has passed, when the fire in his blood has burned itself to embers, he is left with only you.

And Dex, for all his skill, for all his deadly precision, doesn’t know what to do with you.

You, soft and breathless, your fingers trailing absently along the scars on his chest.

You, eyes half-lidded and lazy, wrapped in his sheets like you belong there.

You, pressing a kiss to his jaw, murmuring something sleep-soft and warm, something tender.

He doesn’t deserve this.

Doesn’t deserve you.

But that doesn’t stop him from keeping you.

From wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in, anchoring himself to your warmth.