bf!dex who puts himself to sleep by eating the soul out of you. he swears he doesn't need medication or any other clinical method to silence the overwhelming thoughts that insist on keeping him up at night, that's why he has you—and that sweet pussy of yours, of course.
he'll go down on you almost nightly if you let him, thick fingers stuffed knuckle deep inside you and curling repeatedly against that sweet spot of yours that he recently found out makes stars explode behing your eyelids, eager mouth blabbering nonsense into your pussy the whole time.
he can make you come more than three times with his tongue and fingers only—the most he has ever achieved without you threatening to pass out beneath him—and probably won't even register your tiny whimpers of "dex, that's enough" until you start kicking and pushing at his shoulders, forcing him to break away from the mess he made between your legs.
he'll climb back on top of you with the most relaxed expression you've ever seen on his face, eyelids heavy already and chin dripping with your arousal. dex drops his head to your chest then, humming a sound similar to a content little cat, then proceeds to sleep like a baby for the rest of the night—snoring and everything.
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bf!dex who puts himself to sleep by eating the soul out of you. he swears he doesn't need medication or any other clinical method to silence the overwhelming thoughts that insist on keeping him up at night, that's why he has you—and that sweet pussy of yours, of course.
he'll go down on you almost nightly if you let him, thick fingers stuffed knuckle deep inside you and curling repeatedly against that sweet spot of yours that he recently found out makes stars explode behing your eyelids, eager mouth blabbering nonsense into your pussy the whole time.
he can make you come more than three times with his tongue and fingers only—the most he has ever achieved without you threatening to pass out beneath him—and probably won't even register your tiny whimpers of "dex, that's enough" until you start kicking and pushing at his shoulders, forcing him to break away from the mess he made between your legs.
he'll climb back on top of you with the most relaxed expression you've ever seen on his face, eyelids heavy already and chin dripping with your arousal. dex drops his head to your chest then, humming a sound similar to a content little cat, then proceeds to sleep like a baby for the rest of the night—snoring and everything.
bf!dex who looks way too pleased with himself when you get angry enough to hit him.
you two make a very disfunctional couple, that much could be said. you patch him up from knife and bullet wounds more often than you go out on dates, and you're constantly arguing about dex's obsessive, infuriating need to keep everything in your life under his control.
on particularly bad fights, you make him grovel for days.
dex will mostly spend them chasing you around your apartment while you pretend not to notice the hulking mass of a man stalking you around every room, an inevitable presence you couldn't get rid of even if you tried. he says i'm sorry and please talk to me and i'll do anything while you try your best to remain unphased, even if the undeniable lack of remorse in his voice only fills you with even more rage.
one day you turn on your heels and slap him across the face.
it's a sudden, sharp crack that echoes around the room like a gunshot. his head turns to the side and stays there, because you struck him hard enough for dex to freeze like that for a moment before he blinks once in surprise, tongue moving inside his mouth to poke the inside of his cheek.
you can see it in him, the change that happens when dex registers the sting and the heat that starts spreading across the side of his face, the shape of your fingertips painting his skin a crimson red. his mouth curls then, lips tugging into a smile as his eyes flutter closed to savor the impact.
you make a disgusted sound, and because you're still pissed, even more mad now than before you realized you can't even hurt him without his deranged brain turning it into this, you snarl: "what the fuck is wrong with you?"
dex only laughs in response, seemingly pulled out of his trance by the sound of your voice. it's the first time you've spoken to him in hours, and something inside him hums in satisfaction at finally earning back your attention, even if you're still scowling at him with an intensity that would make a lesser man feel the urge to bolt.
to dex, though, the only thing worth registering is that he has your eyes back on him once more, your touch back where it belongs—on his skin, burning across his cheek as physical proof.
he reaches out to grab your hand, fingers enclosing around your wrist and lifting your arm with enough gentleness to make you hesitate upon the thought of pulling it right back, then guides your palm to lay flat against the other side of his face.
"i'll let you take it out on me all you want, we both know i deserve it," he says, soft eyes fixed on yours despite the haze of rage still clouding your vision. "but if you really want to hurt me, then you'll have to hit me harder, sweetheart."
neighbor!dex who you keep asking to come over to fix things. you set on your eyes on him once, that time you saw him moving very heavy furniture into the apartment across from yours—his apartment now—and then decided he was a big enough man to handle the shit you've been procrastinating too much to call someone else for.
it had been your heater first. you showed at his door one night, too late to sound anything but desperate as you pleaded for him to come in and get a look at it before you started freezing to death.
your shower came next. the water was too cold—or too hot. dex didn't even register it. he was already at your threshold by the time you could finish asking if he was busy that afternoon. that alone could've been enough indication of how much you were already getting into his head.
he found himself perking up at the sound of knocking on his door like a fucking pavlovian experiment, eager to make himself of use any time you'd come asking for his help. it wasn't until the fourth or fifth time that he finally understood there was something else going on there.
he came home one day and heard you instantly swing your door open at the sound of his keys, a high-pitched call of his name following like you've been looking for him all day. he had to fight back the urge to purr like a cat at the sound, turning around as you already started to complain about one of your shelves falling off seemingly out of nowhere.
a few minutes later, as dex kneeled between the mess of books scattered across your bed, something clicked into place inside him like the final missing piece to a puzzle. his head tilted slightly to one side, a movement that accentuated the gears turning inside his head as he registered the visible cracks around the two holes in your wall from where the shelve had been previously hanging from—as if someone had forcefully pulled at it trying to get it off.
your sweet voiced sounded from somewhere behind him, small and unsure. "what is it? can you fix it?"
he chuckled, just slightly. "you think you're clever."
you didn't respond. dex turned around just enough to face you, your mattress dipping beneath his weight as he adjusted his position to find you already staring back at him. you looked like a little deer caught in a pair of headlights. it was adorable.
"i bet you got that pretty head of yours working real hard thinking of ways to get me in here." his voice was a different register when he spoke again. he felt the scar across his cheek pull as his smile grew wider, a full on grin now. "you don't need to pull things off your walls to make me notice you, sweetheart. i've already been looking."
