Skoi༒︎

- You figured, rolled your eyes an warned him not to do it again because it was difficult for you to wash out. Yet if he did slip up again, you just got stronger detergent.

- Your house had a basement, so he started to take his bodies over to your place. It was just easier, especially since you knew.

- Hopefully they weren't heavy, especially after you've cleaned. He knew you hated when things got dirtier especially when you finished cleaning.

"Hey honey— what– be careful!" When he was dragging them they almost knocked over this vase you just bought.

"Oh, you're getting dirt everywhere!"

- He promised to clean it up right after.

- He found it adorable when you would come down for him to try your food. You in your apron as to not get your clothes dirty, flour on your nose and cheeks.

"Dex— oh, it stinks.." Nose scrunched before you got yourself used to the smell.

"Hm?" He had looked up for a moment, not yet plunging the knife inside of the victims abdomen.

- Sometimes Dex would have to stop himself from laughing when victims looked at you desperately for help, thinking you would set them free or call the police. But no, you didn't even spare a glance.

"Try this for me, hm?" Dexter slapped some tape on his victims mouth so he could try peacefully. It was a doughnut, you had ever made them before and since Dexter was prone to them, you wanted him to try it.

- He ignored the muffled screams, trying to get your attention. His taste buds taking everything in.

"Mh! It's good, can you make more please?"

- He smiles watching you giggle, giving him a kiss on his cheek and nodding your head. He waved you goodbye as you went back upstairs to continue.

"Right." He frowned, "Sorry about that.." He angled the knife once more, after ripping off the tape. "You— you're married, you get it. My husband's the type to insist on taking care of everything, I swear I didn't force it." And he would stab the knife inside the abdomen.

-Dexter feels terrible when you clean the basement, making sure the smell of death is all the way gone.

-He doesn't know what you smell, he swore he wiped it all out yet he would come home to you wiping the floors and walls, whatever you can.

"I'm truly not sure what you smell..all I can smell makes my nose burn."

- It was worse when you would be mid-cleaning and he came back with a body. His body would freeze, your eyes squinting in annoyance.

"Dexter! I told you to always call me when you were doing something!"

"I know, I know–"

"Can't you see I'm cleaning? Hm, do clean areas mean nothing to you anymore?"

"Hey, hey, look. I'll clean just the way you like when I'm done okay?"

"..Alright, I need to cook dinner anyways. I love you." He shared a kiss.

Dexter Morgan who brings you little sweet treats after work (or rather, after a kill)

He is also known to give you a foot massage from time-to-time

And makes you breakfast in the morning, pancakes of course

He's always watching you, analyzing you, admiring you. Wondering how you do it, act so graceful, exist so human. You're so human to him, real. You feel things deeply, you love, you hate, and craziest of all; you love him. You ground him, keep him in touch with his humanity.

He's often considered himself empty, a shell of a human. However, you make him feel things. Something that deeply shocked him at first, but something he's grown to adore.

He's very protective of you, especially in public. He's not big on pda or even holding hands, but he'll keep you as close to him as possible. Keeping an eye out for any unsavory characters. He knows what kind of people are in this world, he really knows.

If you mention you like something once, he'll show up the next day with a lot of whatever it is. It can be annoying at times, like when you mentioned you like yogurt and Dexter showed up with a case of yoplait every time that you saw him for like a week, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

For being such a control freak, he's not all that controlling in his everyday life. He pretty much always lets you choose dinner, the movie, tv, the restaurant, etc. While he may be thinking how stupid something is on the inside, if you're happy, he's okay with it.

He loves watching you get ready for the day, especially when you do your makeup. He likes the ritual of it, it reminds him that everyone has one, and that he may not be as disconnected from humanity as he thought. He knows they're not exactly comparable, but it's the principle of it.

He's a great listener, he loves hearing you rant about your day, your idiot coworkers, all your simplistic little annoyances and day-to-day happenings. It takes his mind off his very complicated, fucked up life. Allows him to see into the world of the average, normal person.

He's always touching you when you sleep, his hand on your waist, face buried in your neck, legs intertwined with yours. It's likely because his subconscious is convinced that you're going to wake up one day and see him for what he truly is, then leave him.

...

Got inspired by one of my mutual’s recent post, idk why I never considered making short little head cannon posts and whatnot. I think it's cute! Hope y'all like it :)

-> Dexter who worries his gf may look too vulnerable to a killer, so he spends weekends training her, making her do little exercises to help her in case someone tries to hurt her. and by the end of it, he always rewards her, without a fail. it could be going for ice cream, or watching her favourite movie, or going for a swim, or sometimes she'll ask for a kiss and that they go for a walk, and he complies because of course he does <3

-> Dexter who always takes out the trash without being asked. Dexter who keeps her medicine cabinet restocked. Dexter who looks after her very well <3

-> Dexter who doesn't bat an eye when she accidentally leaks on the bed during her periods. He cleans up and comforts her, tells her little jokes to not make her feel embarrassed. and then she'll be sitting on the toilet lid, while he tells her how to wash off blood best in the sink in scientific detail while he scrubs her sheets.

You stand in your kitchen, admiring your work. You've spent the entirety of the day cleaning, scrubbing until the whole room sparkled. The entire house is filled with the fresh lemon-y scent of cleaner. You plop down on your couch, satisfied with your hard work. You reach for the book lying on your coffee table when suddenly the door flies open and shuts with a loud slam. In walks your very handsome boyfriend, Dexter Morgan. Something about the look on his face, and the dramatic entrance, tells you he's not in the greatest mood. His gaze is dark, angry. You feel like you should be scared when he's like this, hell most people would, but you feel rather turned on instead. He's pacing around your living room. Not stopping to look at you, or even say anything.

"Dex, what's wrong?"

He shoots you a harsh glare

"It's just work. I should probably go" he replies

"No, don't. I want to help" you reach to grab his arm

"No, I shouldn't have come here" he pulls his arm back

You frown in response

"What can I do to make you stay" you ask, looking up at him with pleading eyes

he sighs

"I'm sure there's some way I could help. I can be pretty convincing" you slide your tongue across your bottom teeth while holding eye contact

He sighs again, shutting his eyes and tilting his head back

He's contemplating his next move. He'd love nothing more than to rip your clothes off and have you right here on the floor. But considering tonight's circumstances, not being able to feed that need inside him. He's afraid he'll be too much, too dark and empty. That he won't be able to control himself. He's been stalking his prey for the past two weeks all for nothing, all for him to turn up empty handed. No blood slide to bring home. He didn't know what else to do but come over. Deep down he knew what he wanted, what this would lead to. The only thing that could take his mind off of things, just for a little while at least. Maybe he could channel that hunger, that need, into something else. You.

As he's looking at you, something in his eyes shift. From anger to a hunger. Something insatiable. You knew what this meant. You could hardly contain your excitement as your arousal began to pool in your underwear. He cups your face in both hands kissing you hard, deep. Teeth clashing, breath heavy. It's like something switched in him. From a man wounded, angry, to a man in need. A man who knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was you. In this moment it's all he could think about. He had tunnel vison, trying to keep tonight's previous failure out of his mind. His hands began to roam your body, grabbing anything they could. You slid your hand down to his crotch, grabbing and rubbing. He growls in response. This only further fueled the fire inside him, like a spark to gasoline. He spun you around and slammed you against the wall.

He breaks the kiss searching your face for any sign of discomfort. He may be a killer, but he would never hurt the woman he loved.

"Keep going" you say breathlessly

At your confirmation, he returns to kissing you. Moving down your neck, sucking and biting. Your breath catches in your throat. His hand snakes down to play with the hem of your pants. He slides between the band reaching further down, tracing circles around your clit. You let out a soft moan. You move your hands to his hair, gliding your fingers through his auburn locks, pulling and tugging. He begins to kiss you more roughly now, breathing hard. You can feel him hardening against your thigh.

"Bedroom" you whisper

You wrap your legs around his waist as he picks you up. Never once breaking the kiss as he carries you to the bedroom. He drops you onto the mattress, springs creaking from the impact.

"Off" he orders, referring to your clothes

You slowly remove your shirt, then pause

"Everything" His face is like stone as he watches your every move, his eyes the only thing moving as he follows your hands move across your body.

When you unclasp your bra and let it slide off, you watch as his pupils dilate wide, focusing in on your now exposed chest.

You move your hands down to start working the buttons of your jeans, moving teasingly slow.

He grabs your wrist

"Don't play games with me" His voice ragged and deep

You can't help but smirk ever so slightly. You've never seen him like this before. Dominant? Sure. But never this dark and angry, never this in need.

You slide your pants off, then your underwear. You're completely exposed now, while he's still fully dressed. You blush a little. His eyes scan your body, taking it all in. Preparing for what's about to happen, playing out different scenarios in his mind. You frown when he doesn't make any moves to remove his own clothes. That tight green button up makes you think horrifically sinful things, you just want him to rip it off and crawl on top of you already. You guess you'll have to do it yourself.

You reach up to tug on the hem of his shirt, he understands and pulls it off over his head. He removes his belt as well which brings your attention to his now extremely large bulge. 'He must be so uncomfortable' you think. You look up at him, making eye contact as you slide his pants and boxers down to his knees. His wild eyes looking into yours as you lean forward to lick a long stripe along his cock. He clenches his jaw at the sensation, wanting more. You finally take him into your mouth, pushing further inch-by-inch. His head falls back as he lets out a low groan. You move your head slowly, still trying to adjust to him in your mouth. He decides this is too slow and places a hand on your head pushing you faster. Your gags only encourage him as the closer he gets the rougher and faster he pushes until he's full-on face fucking you. He stops however and pulls away; this isn't how he wants to finish. He wants more, he needs to be inside you.

He looks down at you, noticing tears streaming down your face. He snaps out of whatever sex induced daze he was in. His eyes dissolving from aroused to concerned.

"Are you okay? Was that too much?" His voice laced with worry

But to his surprise, you just smile up at him

"No, I can take it. I promise" you say, giving him the same pleading doe eyes that got you into this mess

With your approval, he immediately snaps back. Lips crashing into yours, tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, like he's trying to memorize your taste. He pushes you onto the bed and crawls over you. He continues devouring your lips, rough and passionate, he even bites and draws a little blood, much to his amusement. One hand grasping your jaw while the other snakes down to your core. He easily slides two fingers in while his thumb rubs circles on your clit. Your loud moans are muffled by his mouth on yours. Gripping your jaw tightly, he moves your head to the side to gain access to your neck. He loves the sounds you make when he bites the tender flesh where your jaw meets your earlobe. He ravages your neck, biting, licking, and sucking any available skin he can get his mouth on. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was a vampire. Maybe that's just the effect you have on him. You moan loudly as his fingers work you into bliss, practically screaming his name as you cum.

He moves your face back to look at him. Your eyes glazed over with pleasure, one of his favorite looks on you. He grabs your thighs, wrapping them around his waist. He locks eyes with you as he aligns with your entrance and slowly pushes in. He loves watching your mouth fall open and your eyebrows scrunch in pleasure. He moves his hands to your hips, gripping tightly. His pace quickens, causing you to moan with every deep thrust. You squeeze your eyes shut as pleasure rolls through you.

His thrusts become faster and rougher. He moves a hand from your waist to your chest, rubbing his thumb across your nipples.

He suddenly pulls out and you whimper at the emptiness. You look at him confused

"Dex, please. I need you"

But before you know it, he grabs your waist and flips you over. His hands return to your hips, gripping them tightly. You arch your back in response, pushing into him.

"Good girl" he says in a low taunting voice

You moan at his words, God you love when he's like this

Without warning, he plunges back into you. Hitting deeper inside you with this new angle. He's just as rough, pounding into you relentlessly. With every stroke he can feel all his anger and stress fall away. He doesn't care about what happened earlier, all he can feel is you and the way you wrap around him perfectly. It doesn't take long for you to fall over the edge as you're sensitive from your previous orgasm. You cum hard, moaning out his name as your walls clench around him. Dexter continues to fuck into you, his thrusts becoming increasingly sloppy as he gets closer. He leans over you, bringing his lips to your ear.

"Inside, is that okay?" he whispers

You can't do anything other than nod

With a few final thrusts he comes undone, spilling into you. He slumps over you, chest against your back. Breathing in sync, feeling each other's bodies pressed together. He places soft kisses to the back of your neck, a complete contrast to the man he was a second ago. He collapses on the bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you.

"I didn't go too far, did I?" he asks in his usual calm, gentle voice

"No, you were perfect." you smile, pulling his hand to your face and placing a gentle kiss.

...

You and Dexter were perfect for each other – or close enough. You loved his bluntness, his dry sense of humor (which wasn’t always humor) and his demons, whatever they were. You had your suspicions, but you had yet to muster the nerve to ask him directly about them. It was so frustrating, because you prided yourself on opening controversial or inappropriate topics. You kept telling yourself that you were just afraid of losing the tension between the two of you once you’d call him out on his nocturnal disappearances.  

Some nights, he’d come home at an ungodly hour, collapsing into the bed beside you like gravity finally caught up with him. Occasionally, you’d wake to his stubble brushing your cheek as he laid kisses along your face. More often than not, you were too tired to make something out of it, and usually, you also assumed he’d just gotten off on something else, because he would sigh and nuzzle into you like he was still riding en endorphin rush.

You rarely engaged in a sex in the middle of the night, unless he demanded it. Once, you told him he could do whatever he wanted with you. Yours and Dexter’s sex life had its own intricate taxonomy:  I am objectifying you right in this moment and want your body sex or my hormones are acting up sex. The list was long, really, but at the very top was something went wrong sex. That was your favorite, but too bad for you, because it wasn’t very often that you got to experience it. Dexter is very careful and focused most of the time. He doesn’t make mistakes. The bright side of that: you’d never ever get tired of it. Those nights felt like Christmas. No. Better than Christmas.

One evening, he came home earlier than usual (you weren’t even asleep yet). He was so angry. So frustrated. And you wanted to help. You set aside the book you were reading (it was about a woman who fell in love with a sociopath. safe to say, it was an intriguing read) when he stormed into the room. You crawled to the foot of the bed, watching his sharp movements with wide eyes as he took off his army green shirt.

You’d always imagined yourself grinding on him while he wore his uniform. And that time was no different. But that night wasn’t about you. It was about him. Well, partly.

“Can I help?”

“No.” his tone was clipped as he continued to move frantically around the room.

You weren’t sure if you should push his buttons. Your heart beat out of your chest from the nerves. Part of you thought maybe you should back off; the other part – it thrived on the uncertainty, the thrill of not knowing how far you could push before he snapped.

“I could make you something to eat…”

Horse shit. You couldn’t cook to save your life, and he knew that. But he just scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching into a humorless smirk.  

“How about a bath? I could light those lavender candles and throw in one of my bath bombs.”

“I said no.”  

You were still kneeling on the bed, dressed in your checkered shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top. Trying to act as innocently as possible.

“Do you want–”

He finally charged toward you, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Do I need to spell it out?”

Finally. Bait taken.

You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, slowly rising to your knees. The top of your head barely reached his chin, forcing you to tilt your neck to meet his gaze.

You started placing kisses along his collarbone, trailing up over his shoulder and to his neck. Your hand rested on his chest, palm splayed over his heart.

“Any chance I can sub in for one of them tonight?” you murmured, your lips brushing against his skin.

His brows furrowed and then shot up. “Them?”

You felt the sudden quickening of his pulse beneath your hand. You nibbled on your lower lip as you nodded.

“Who’s them?”

Instead of answering, you tanhled your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. It was a reassurance, a promise that you’d always be there. Okay, maybe you did it because you didn’t want him to leave you. You didn’t want to activate a chain reaction.

He leaned into you, his hands sliding to your waist, holding you. When your lips parted, your forehead rested against his.

“You tell me, Dexter. Or don’t. I don’t care. But I want you to be happy. Do whatever you need to me if that’s what it takes.”  

Pathetic? Most definitely. But who cares? He secretly loved it when you got like this – whiny, needy, entirely his.

His hand cupped your right cheek, his thumb brushing a faint vertical line against your skin, the nail scratching just enough to leave a fleeting mark. But his gaze darkened again, pupils dilating, like he was replaying unhappy memories.

He kissed you then – hard and insistent. His hand circled your neck, his thumb pressing just underneath your ear, while the rest of his fingers gripped the other side, his pointer brushing against your earlobe. Your hand instinctively shot up, clutching his forearm as if steadying yourself for what was coming.

Long story short, he fucked you that night, like never before. And since then, you’d been relying on your own version of Thorndike’s Law of Effect: if you wanted to ignite that fire in him, to get destroyed by him, you had to be a brat. Acting like you had control was the fastest way to make him prove otherwise. Sometimes you suspected he loved control more than he loved you. You’d told him that once, and he’d said you were being dramatic. Again. Well, you could still weaponize it.

The problem was, Dexter was otherwise a calm and patient boyfriend. He tolerated your antics with an almost infuriating ease, whether it was leaving the windshield wipers on long after the rain stopped or overbuying carrots at the farmer’s market only for him to help you eat the whole bowl of carrot salad. He even helped you find reliable owners for the stray cats that always “followed” you home. He was so good to you, and that’s why you always had to wait for something to go wrong. That’s when he was at his weakest and that’s when you struck.

Today’s the day. It was Friday and you didn’t have any classes, so you hadn’t set an alarm. You usually managed to wake up before 8 am – not too early, not too late. But this time, it wasn’t the sunlight or your internal clock that stirred you awake. It was the sound of chewing. Muffled munching, punctuated by the occasional scrape of a fork against a plate.

You cracked your eyes open, squinting as the golden rays of the early Miami morning sun flooded the room. You groaned softly and turned to look at the clock on the bedside table. 7:42. Acceptable.

Blinking the sleep away, you shifted your gaze to Dexter. He sat propped against the headboard on his side of the bed, a plate balanced on his lap, spearing pieces of egg and bacon with his fork before shoving them into his mouth.

What the fuck?

He never ate in bed. One time, when you’d brought a bowl of popcorn to share during a movie night, he’d almost thrown you out.

“I’m not a clean freak. You just can’t even drink out of a bottle without spilling it all over the place,” he’d said. Well, he wasn’t wrong, but you’d managed to convince him anyway.

Now, though? Now he was the one violating the sacred no-food-in-bed rule.

“Morning,” you mumbled, your voice still groggy as you reached for him.

He paused, registering your movement, and turned to you. His fork hovered mid-air as his gaze softened, just enough for him to take your hand and press a kiss to your knuckles. It was a gentle gesture, the grease from his lips lingered on your skin.  

“Hey,” he said, offering a weak smile. His voice carried a strange edge too, almost shaky.

You watched him carefully, he turned back to his food and with a quick flick of the remote, he raised the volume on the TV you hadn’t even noticed was on.   

The screen showed a reporter standing in front of a crime scene, her voice urgent as she rattled off details about a recent incident. They flashed an image of a man – the criminal – and then back to the reporter.

Your eyes darted from the TV to Dexter. His brow was drawn low, his stare almost predatory as he watched the broadcast. His jaw tightened and released, the muscles flexing as he chewed. Occasionally, his teeth ground together, producing a faint, grating sound.

He was in the mood. And it hit you.

He never ate in bed. He wanted you to provoke him. A slow smirk curled your lips.

“Careful, Dex. You might intimidate the reporter through the TV.”

His grip on the fork tightened and chewing came to an abrupt halt. He exhaled sharply through his nose, not amused.

“Not today.”

“Did someone leave a typo in their lab report or what?”

He stuffed the rest of his food into his mouth without so much as glancing at you.  

“Drop it.”

“Oh no, did Masuka out-gross you again?”

The plate clattered onto the bedside table with a force that made you flinch. Before you could react, he was on you. In a flash, his hand gripped your cheeks, his face hovering dangerously close to yours.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

That was easier than you thought.

“Funny? No. I think I’m just observant.”

His eyes narrowed, dark and unrelenting as he studied you. His grip on your cheeks tightened just enough to make your lips purse.

“Is that what you call running your mouth until you get yourself in trouble?”

You couldn’t help it. Even with his face inches from yours, his hand firm on your cheeks, you smirked. “Please, Dexter, you’re all bark and no bite.”

Now you were just being annoying. He was actually all bite and no bark. His jaw ticked anyway, a muscle jumping just beneath his skin. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your lips as his nose brushed against your cheek.

“You really want to test that theory?”

You tried to shrug, but his grip on you made the movement awkward.

The air between you was thick, electric. His eyes searched yours, and you finally saw that primal tweak of his.

Then, without a warning, he released your cheeks and grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the bed on either side of your head. His strength was effortless, his movement precise.

“If you don’t come at least four times until I have to leave for work, I’m not gonna let you come for four weeks at all.”

Shit. Four weeks is a long time. That’s a whole month!

“Now you’re setting ultimatums?”

“Your time is running out, you sure you want to talk back?”

And that was your cue to finally keep your mouth shut.

“Good girl.” He said, the words sending a jolt straight through you, and you became acutely aware of the wetness pooling in your sleep shorts.

“On your knees. Grab the headboard.”

You obeyed without hesitation, pressing your chest into the mattress as you shifted onto your knees, sticking your ass into the air. You felt the fabric of your shorts clinging to your slick pussy in a way that was both uncomfortable and relieving.

Dexter moved behind you, his hand brushing over your hips, the touch almost gentle before he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. He tugged them down, watching the material stick to your pussy, making his cock twitch in his pants. You squirmed under his fingers as they brushed against the skin of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Jesus, you’re sopping wet. Am I even surprised?” He said, bringing his fingers to your cunt and skimming them along the center from your hole, down to your clit. As he grazed that little spot, you bucked your hips into his hand, only for him to retreat it and bring it down in a swift move, slapping your clit and sending a tingling into your stomach. You moaned, not expecting him to get rough so soon.

Then, he kneeled next to you. You were too afraid to turn your head, but you could see with your periphery vision the tent in his pants. He brought the middle finger and the ring finger of his left hand to your mouth, and you opened without hesitation, wrapping your lips around them as he slid them all the way in. For you, it was awkward from that position, the fingers hooked in the corner of your mouth, forcing it to tilt slightly.

Once he decided that they were wet enough, he removed them and the same arm reached under you, his forearm touching your stomach as his fingers, now slick with your saliva, reached your pussy. They slid between your folds with ease, the two fingers pinching your clit between, before rubbing circles into it.

The tension in your stomach coiled tighter with each movement. You squirmed under him, needing more than he was giving you, and he knew that. But when you started moving too much, he slowed, barely grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Dex,” you whined, your hips moving, trying to chase the friction he was withholding. But his only answer came in a form of a slap to your ass. Your mouth opened in a silent cry, and your hand instinctively let go of the headboard and reached for your cheek in order to sooth the pain. But before you could touch your own skin, his free hand was wrapping around your wrist, holding it high and causing your muscles to strain.

“Don’t make me tie you up. You don’t have time for that.”

You nodded in silent obedience, and you gripped the headboard again, focused on not letting go. His hand was still teasing your clit while his other hand reached from behind and played with your hole, your slickness sticking to his fingers. For a moment, he was enjoying the feeling of it, of you on his fingers. Then he spread the wetness up and over your asshole. He only teased your back entrance, returning to your pussy and plunging his fingers inside, making your grip on the headboard tighten, as well as your walls around his fingers.

Dexter’s fingers worked you expertly, curling upward to hit that spot inside you that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. The movements of both his hands were in sync, the combination driving you to the edge as he upped the pace, relentless and unforgiving his fingers thrusting deeper, while also pinching your clit harder and occasionally grazing a nail over it, sending shivers down your spine.

The room was filled with the sounds of your gasps, Dex’s occasional grunts and most importantly, the squelching sounds of your drenched cunt. You were almost embarrassed by it, and Dexter made sure you felt that shame.

“Listen to yourself. So messy.”

Your response was a broken whine, your body trembling as his fingers curled just right to hit that devastatingly perfect spot again and again and again. His other hand maintained its tormenting rhythm on your clit, switching between sharp pinches and soft, tantalizing circles as your juices dripped from your hole to your clit.

Your knuckles became white from the hold you had on the headboard, your focus on not letting go and letting go at the same time. The pressure pulled you further under, and when he felt you clench around him, he pressed harder, his fingers moving with even more intensity.

“You wanna come?”

“Yes,” you whined, your body shaking with the overwhelming sensations.

“Don’t forget your manners, sweetheart.”

The pressure was unbearable now, your release so close you could taste it.

“Please, can I come?”

“Go ahead.” He growled, his fingers resuming his relentless pace, the wave of pleasure hitting you like a tidal force, crashing through every nerve in your body. You cried out, your body convulsing with the intensity of your climax. Your thighs trembled and your grip on the headboard faltered, but you were quick to remember to hold on, otherwise he wouldn’t let you ride it out.

Dexter worked you through the aftershocks, his fingers slowing but still keeping you riding that high until you were an overstimulated mess beneath him. When he withdrew his hand, you thought he’d give you a moment to gather up, but instead, in a quick motion, he was behind you, spreading your ass and burying his face between your cheeks.

Your body twitched as you felt him press his tongue flat on your puffy clit, shaking his head from side to side before catching it between his lips and sucking on it. The stimulation too much, you even tried to pull away even though you didn't really want to. It was to no use anyway, he followed you and his hands pushed against the small of your back, limiting your movements. He kept sucking on your bundle of nerves, his nose nudging your wet opening.

The thought of him being this messy alone made you so fucking horny and needy, as if you weren’t at the maximum capacity to feel those things.

Dexter pulled another whine out of you when he tugged on your clit with his lips, pulling back until he let go with a pop.

“You get so fucking sweet when you’re on your on your knees.” He said before returning his tongue to your pussy, running it flat up and down your lips, spreading your cunt and mixing his spit with your juices before he slurped it all up.

Your hand itched to let go of the headboard and cover your pussy to give your swollen clit a rest, but you were afraid of what he might do if you disobeyed again.

Besides, eating you out was his favorite thing in the world, and bad things would happen if you deprived him of his favorite activities.

One time, he’d made you ride him for so long until it was physically impossible for you to lift your ass. He’d proceeded to call you lazy, and had you dared, you would have slapped him.

Now, too much was at stake. He flicked his tongue against your clit repeatedly before finding your entrance and plunging it inside, the wet muscle massaging your walls. He loved your taste, he loved how you squirmed, he loved how slick and sticky you were. And you loved how animalistic he was about it, and how he didn’t care that you were overstimulated.

He dragged his tongue in and out of you, and then finally, it returned to your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot. And the slightly sharp sensation was all it took to send you over the edge again. Your pelvis twitched against him, his hands squeezing the flesh of your ass, dragging his nail against you aggressively and leaving red scratch marks behind.

You loved them more than bruises. You could get bruises anywhere, sometimes they appear, and you don’t even know how. That's a common knowledge. But chafed, irritated skin? You know exactly how it gets there. You remember it. It evokes memories.

He hummed against your hot, wet flesh, the vibrations only accelerating your orgasm. You mewled, almost screamed, but you didn’t want to seem overdramatic. Your cum spilled straight into his mouth and he drank it all down as if he didn’t want to waste a single drop. He caught it on his tongue, licking you through the orgasm. Your upper body felt so numb, while down there, it was like fireworks. And when you finally started coming down, he slowed down, laying kisses over your pussy lips and your butt and your thighs. You felt the wetness his mouth left behind, your slick slowly drying on your skin. It was almost comforting, feeling him be so soft. You felt like curling up to him, falling asleep in his embrace.

“Three to go. You think you can make it?” He asked, and you heard him move behind you, followed by the sound of his buckle as he removed his belt.

You looked at the clock. 8:02. You didn’t think you could, but even if you did, it was in his control. He was just manipulating you to think that it was yours. Or he was just mocking you. He knew you weren’t stupid.

“You think you can?”

The leather belt came down on your ass, to the same place he’d slapped before. You made a note about checking out that bruise later.

 “You’re only giving me reasons to spank the shit out of you.” He said, dragging the belt across your ass, before touching the curved part to your pussy. Once it was gone, you waited for Dexter to hit you there too, but the blow never came.

“Let go of the headboard.”

Your brows furrowed, but your confusion quickly disappeared when he hooked the belt around your neck, yanking you upwards, your back against his chest and his clothed cock nestled between your ass cheeks.

You subtly ground against him, making him purr into your ear, which made you smirk. He gripped both ends of the belt in one hand, while his other arm snaked around your waist, his hand slipping under your tank top and squeezing your breast. The way he pinched and tugged on your nipple made you buck into him with more force, and he reciprocated, grinding against you, giving in to his own pleasure. Then his hand disappeared from your body and you heard the sound of him spitting into his palm, before he brought it to your pussy. As if you weren’t completely drenched. He knew you loved how disgusting the thought was. How lewd you felt when he did that.

For him, this was nothing compared to the things he did during his free time.

Then without a warning, he released one end of the belt, causing you to collapse face-first into the bed. He unbuttoned his khaki pants and pulled his cock out before grabbing your arm and turning you on your back.

You finally got a good look at him - strands of hair sticking to his forehead, his eyes dark framed by lashes that looked like he'd used an eyelash curler (something you envied him). You admired him. Not just for his look, though that part was obvious. He knew he had women turning their heads in his direction. But they didn’t know the brilliant mind beneath it all. He was so clever, so undeniably smart, and that was what truly excited you. That a neat man with a compartmentalized brain like his could get so messy when it came to sex. Like now, all sweaty, his cock leaking onto the sheets. Some of the precum probably landed on your cunt too. The thought alone sent another wave of pleasure building deep in your abdomen.

He leaned down, his tongue flicking into your pussy in one swift motion before crawling over you and capturing your lips in a kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue. His hand slid to your neck, his thumb pressing firmly against your pulse point, making you aware of how fast your heart was pounding. You moaned into his mouth as he applied a touch more pressure for a split second, giving him the chance to slide his tongue deeper into your mouth. You sucked on it, tasting the tanginess that he'd collected from your lower lips.

Without warning, with just a sublte shift of his hips, he was inside you. A low moan escaped him as he felt the tightness of your walls, and you let out a soft whimper at the stretch. He didn’t move at first. He kept kissing you and his hand slid down your body, squeezing your boob again, rolling the nipple between his fingers. Lowering his head, he wrapped his mouth around your sensitive peak, sucking gently on your tit. Your fingers tangled into his hair, your nails scratching lightly against his scalp, pulling him closer.

His teeth grazed your sensitive nub, sending a jolt through you, and in one fluid motion, his arm snaked beneath you, lifting and sitting up as he pulled you onto his lap. He started thrusting his hips into you, holding you in place, his cock gliding effortlessly along your slick walls.

Leaning forward, his lips found your other breast, his tongue tracing lazy circles around your nipple before his mouth opened wide, taking in as much of your soft flesh as he could. You arched against him, your back curving as your hads pressed his face closer, your head tipping back in ecstasy.

He kept on fucking you, hitting that sweet spot inside of you that made you dizzy. He drove his cock into you, quickening the pace, a sign that he was getting close. His arms around you tightened and then suddenly, you felt a sharp pain originating in your breast and going straight to your pussy, making you clench around. He was fucking you hard and deep, and when you looked down, you saw him still latched onto your tit, his upper lip covered in crimson.

You felt the sting from the way he was sucking on you, and when he finally removed his lips from your breast, you saw red drops dripping down your breast, the blood leaking from the bite marks where his upper teeth sank into your skin. You were mesmerized by it, and you wanted more. You pushed his face back against your sore nipple and Dexter surprisingly didn’t argue. He licked the blood off you and sucked again while ramming into you. Your body shuddered, and finally your third finish was brought on by a couple of additional thrusts of his hips. Then he laid you flat on the bed and chased his own release. You pulled him up by the chin, meeting his lips in a sloppy kiss as he fucked you hard and fast until he spilled inside of you.

Once you both came down, he was lying on top of you. You wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him affectionately, because you were so content that he was there with you.

But you were yanked out of your dreamland when he rose to his feet, making your brows furrow.

“That was only three,” your tone couldn't be more confused, as he headed to the bathroom.

“Yeah, but I need to shower and pick new clothes to wear. Can’t go to work with your cum all over my pants.” He came back to the bedroom with a smile on his face, as if he just hadn’t fucked the shit out of you. “Last one’s on you.”

“On me?”

“Yes. Make yourself cum before I leave. If you don’t, you know the consequences.”

He gave you a quick peck on the lips before disappearing into the bathroom.

Asshole. He knew you’d lost the ability to make yourself cum shortly after you’d started sleeping together. But luckily, you had your stash of toys that might help you with your problem.

With the roll of your eyes, you rolled over and reached into your nightstand, but in that moment, he peeked from around the corner.

“Oh, and your hands only.”

“What? That’s not fair!”

His face dropped again.

“You want to tell me what’s fair and what isn’t?”

You slammed the drawer shut and fell on your back, your body bouncing on the soft bed.

“Good girl. And no cheating. I’ll keep the door open. If I so much as hear something else that isn’t your fucking scream, I swear you’ll have to work your ass off to make me let you come ever again. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

You hadn’t done this in a long time. It almost felt unnatural. But despite that, your fingers dropped to your clit, and you began pushing yourself over another edge. Or at least you tried. But it was pointless. You tried to squeeze your wounded breast to get that rush going, but it didn’t have that effect this time. It only made you sweaty.

He managed to finish his shower before you made yourself orgasm, obviously. When he entered the bedroom with a towel around his waist, he looked at you with feigned pity.

“Aww… Don’t tell me my baby needs a manual to get herself off.”

“Dex, come on. You know I can’t make myself orgasm,” you tried to reason with him, but he wasn’t going to budge.

“I can’t do two things at once, I’m only one person,” he argued, as if it was the most logical thing in the world. “This is for your own good. I gave you an opportunity to make it to four before I have to leave. It’s not my fault you’re not capable.”

You huffed, bringing your fingers to your pussy again, stuffing them inside yourself and trying to fuck yourself, but again, to no avail.

He even laughed at you, and when you opened your eyes, you saw him already with his work bag slung over his shoulder, hands casually tucked in his pocket. You’d lost.

“Fuck, I wish you could see yourself. So desperate. It’s like your world has been destroyed.”

“It kinda has.”

He came to your side of your bed where you were still lying with your hand between your legs. He leaned over you, brushing the hair that stuck to your forehead and placing a soft kiss there.

“Take that as a lesson. You shouldn’t take a bait if you can’t handle the hook.”

And with that he turned on his heel and left, leaving you wrecked and messy, the most agonizing four weeks of your life just now beginning.

And what if Dexter likes to manhandle her around? Sometimes certain social settings exhaust him, and his social battery runs out and he wants to leave. She always agrees to going back home, and then what if they're leaving a club and there's quite a bit of stairs, his girl has heels on, ridiculously high, and is taking it slow.

Dexter is feeling a little impatient, and the noise and the drunk people are certainly not helping much, his head hurts, so he sticks an arm under her shoulders, and one under the crook of knees and lifts her. She yelps in surprise, wrapping her arms around his neck as Dexter hurries them down the stairs and to his car.

His strength comes to an advantage then, outside of his bloody night time activities. He's glad she doesn't mind his hands on her, or the display of strength whenever he runs out of patience or does something just because he thinks it's convenient or faster.

She's always smiling at him, all sweet and pliable. Dexter's glad of that, because he knows some women may not particularly enjoy being moved around like some doll like his girlfriend does.

You were looking for something specific while Gumball was out. You realized he had it but didn't know where he put it. You might be wondering what 'it' is; All you need to understand is that it's important. You hear the door jiggle and quickly hid under his desk.

You could hear two pairs of footsteps and people talking. It was Gumball and Lemongrab. You covered your mouth when hearing them getting closer to you. You couldn't make out their words, because your mind was drifting in and out and trying to find an exit.

Prince Gumball stopped in front of the desk and you could see his long thin legs stop right where you were.

"You can leave."

At first, you thought he knew you were there and was talking to you, but before you got out, you heard Lemongrab abide Gumball goodbye. You scooted back as his legs reached out further, almost touching you. God, why did he have such long legs?!

"You realize it's not very nice to go through other people's things, Y/n."

Your eyes widened, but you quickly frowned. You were about to speak up, but then realized that he wasn't conscious of where you were; He was trying to get you to speak so he could find you. If you didn't talk he wouldn't be aware of where you were.

"Making a mess out of my things. What were you looking for? That stupid book? I told you I didn't have it. Why don't you believe me?"

He waited for your response, but when not receiving one, he started looking around. First, he opened his pantry and then he looked in some cabinets.

"I know you're in here, so you might as well come out."

You knew he'd find you eventually because as much as you hated it, he was incredibly intelligent, so you decided it'd be better if you just came out. You crawled out from under the desk and peeked at the top.

"You have my book."

He groans, holding his head in his hands. "I don't have your book," he goes through a dresser and pulls out some handcuffs.

"What are you doing with those?" You backed up frightened.

"Since you want to be here so bad, rummaging through my stuff, you can stay here."

"That's unethical-"

"So is going through other's things." He grabs your wrist and pulls you near a pole. He buckles your hand but before he can buckle you to the pole you grab his hand and force it in front of the pole so he accidentally cuffs himself. "Why you little!"

You laugh, while the Prince struggles with the handcuffs.

"You've got to be kidding me-"

"You got stuck with me! What an idiot!"

He frowned at you as you continued to mock him.

"God, I've never met someone so addlebrained."

"Oh, that's a big word. Where did you learn it?"

"Thank you! Marshall introduced me to the word."

"God, why do you hang out with that jerk?"

"He's not that bad... All the time. Why do you care?"

"I don't care!" He quickly defends, causing you to gasp.

"Are you jealous?"

"Of course not. He's just a bad influence for you."

"Okay Daaaddd."

He rolls his eyes, yanking harder on the cuffs, "Don't call me that."

"Oh, you don't like it? Well, don't act like my dad."

"I personally wish you'd surround yourself with better people."

"People like you?"

"Yes."

You frown, "God, you're so pretentious! And an ego-manic."

"Ego-manic? Are you serious! I put my whole life into everything I do! God, you make me question myself sometimes."

"Sooo... You are pretentious?"

"Y/n, do you have... How do I say this? Do you have a more mature side?"

"You cuffed me, which seems oddly sexual, but I'm the problem?"

"You were in my lab!"

"You have my book!"

"No I don't! In fact, I was going to tell you that Fiona had it."

"Fiona?"

"She got it from Marshall. Your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend," You quickly defend, but the Prince just shakes his head.

"Well, you sure defend him like one. Why, sometimes I'd think you were in love with him."

"What are you talking about? I'm not in love with him and I don't defend him," You look down at his hand, which was so close to yours, "Why do you care so much? You're so mean to him and sometimes you're wrong. Why do you hate him?"

"I don't hate him-"

"Then what's your issue?"

He looks towards you, not saying anything, but he started getting closer and closer. You were frozen and only snapped out of it when he put his lips on yours.

You were surprised, but Gumball speaks quickly.

"She was looking for you to give it back to you. You're lucky he wasn't able to open it."

"Yeahh..." You respond, still confused about what happened.