hate that i made U love me . . . ♡
your keys, obnoxiously adorned with pink trinkety goods hits the wooden floor of your apartment first. then comes the thud of your bag, thumping and then slumping like a corpse into itself. you can only stare ahead.
dex is there, but not the dex you know so well — the version of him that usually welcomes you home with strong open arms and a kiss at the top of your head. you’d seen this alter ego of his a handful of times, mostly at the start of your relationship. he looks like a void, a shadow — stood parallel to you at the end of your long hallway in his bullseye gear, but he’s not alone.
it takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the male figure struggling, tied to the white chair that usually sits tucked beneath your small circular dining table. you’d think you wouldn’t recognise him after all this time, but the body never forgets. your eyes widen, matching his frightened gaze. you know that face, that muffled voice escaping the makeshift gag stuffed into his mouth. your ex boyfriend.
“hello, sweetheart.” dex’s voice was cool, calm, his silhouette more imposing than ever, casting a jagged shadow up the wall, reaching closer to you.
“wh—why did — what is this—” your voice refuses to climb higher than a raspy whisper, fingers trembling so hard you thought your glittery rings might slide off the manicured tips.
“what, don’t tell me i got the wrong guy?” you can hear the jest in his voice, big black boot taking a calculated step toward you. when you jolt, going to step back only to be caught totally off guard by the firm door hitting your back. dex slows, holding out a hand as if to show you he meant well. “baby, really? we both know i wouldn’t hurt you by now. not unless you asked me to, anyway.”
your ex boyfriend lets out a frantic wail behind his gag, silenced into a cower when dex slowly turns to acknowledge his presence for the first time since you’d walked through the door, his spread, reassuring fingers curling into a brutal fist— irritated at his interruption.
dex only leads him a scalding glare, before focusing his attention back on you. “october 2022.” he hums, like he was reminiscing — but there’s a bitter underflow to his tone as he reaches into his pocket for his phone. his screen lights his face up— his eyes peeping through their balaclava staunched with neon blues and whites as he clicks around. he turns the screen toward you, a facebook post from an account that didn’t even belong to you.
it’s you, younger, even more innocent than you were now, a concept that dex couldn’t have fathomed. he didn’t want to fathom it — a time before him, an innocence that he didn’t get to claim. you’re grinning in the photo, arms wrapped around someone that wasn’t him. it’s halloween — couples costumes. regina george and aaron samuels. such a typical, girly costume from you. the costume looked cheap and the bunny ears were too big for your head, but you looked like a million bucks. he was… there.
“cute costume.” he goes to snort, but his voice comes through icier than intended.
“i— i haven’t seen that picture in years, i haven’t spoken to him in—” you’re panicked, hands held up in defence and dex frowns nearly in offence.
“oh i know. i would never question your loyalty to me, baby girl. my very good girl, aren’t you?”
you nod— because you don’t trust your voice, and you had no idea where this was going.
he steps toward you again, but slower this time so it doesn’t catch you off guard. you allow it, as you have no choice — the painted door cooling your spine.
dex observes his phone screen once more, before forcing out a scoffed chuckle and stuffing his phone back in his pocket. “what was that, ‘mean girls’?” he asks, but you know he knows the answer. you’re guessing he looked it up, researched everything revolved around that one picture from years ago. “you must’ve been so little when that movie came out, baby.” he chuckles adoringly, like it was just the two of you.
you can’t hold his gaze, focused on the man strapped down in the background. he looked different now, older, you’re not even sure if you’d recognise him if you were walking down the street, in your own head like you usually were. dex, now stood just out of arms reach follows your gaze, twisting his body in annoyance to observe the frantic ex boyfriend. the older man’s chest expands as he takes a grounding breath. what he asks next doesn’t feel like a question, the certainty in his tone telling you everything you needed to know.
“was this the boyfriend that cheated on you?”
your body runs cool, heart thumping too hard to feel the remnants of the cracks left by the heartbreak that took place years ago. “w—we were young, and stupid. i don’t even think about it anymore. doesn’t even hurt anymore, ‘cos i’m so happy, so happy with you!” you try to reassure him, but you sound panicked as you watch his jaw tense beneath the mask, rolling his neck like it ached.
“i really, really just hate these young guys. found a beautiful girl, tainted her innocence with his…” his eye twitches. “unclean hands. n’then he just… wasted it. threw it away, just like that.”
your ex boyfriend cries out one last time, voice strained and cracking — telling you he’d been at it for quite some time now. around the spit-soaked gag, you can barely make out that he’s crying for ‘help’.
“i just can’t stand an ungrateful motherfucker.” dex ticks his head, like it were all a minor inconvenience. what happens next, occurs within the blink of a feathered lash. dex reaches, a glint of metal in low light, he swings his body, throws something— and then a chilling groan, and a gurgling sound.
“oh my god. oh my god dex.” you shake like a wet chihuahua, watching the syrupy, dark red fountain from your ex boyfriends mouth and throat, his eyes are wide with terror, before they go lax, unblinking…
your glossy lips part by themselves to scream, and it escapes you for a second before dex is on you in a second, one hand stuffed over your mouth, the other cupping the back of your head to stop you from hurting yourself against the door when you inevitably started flailing and panicking.
“shh, shh, shh.” he soothes over your muffled scream as he crowds your space. “baby,” he almost scolds with a laugh, seemingly shocked by your reaction like he’d only played a harmless prank and you were majorly overreacting. “i don’t think you wanna draw attention to this, hm?”
you suck in a breath, and trusting you — dex slowly withdraws his hand, smiling proudly and softly beneath his balaclava as he nods, a fond thumb stroking your cheek. “good girl. relax, s’just us now.” he whispers as you peer behind him at the dead body.
“you killed him.” you mewl.
“i just couldn’t— the idea of him walking around, having memories of you, of touching your skin, kissing those lips.” he drags two gloved fingers down your glittery lips, pulling down your pout as you drag your gaze back to his. “it has to be all mine.”
“it is.” you gasp in disbelief. dex peels his balaclava back off his face and drops it beside his feet. he tilts his head, still cupping your head like a predator about to devour his prey, about to unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole.
“say it. say it’s all mine.”
you so hope he misses the way your thighs naturally push together, an unexpected throb in your underwear distracting from the unadulterated terror and guilt swelling in your chest. but of course he saw, he always does.
“s’all yours. i’m all yours. always was.”
dex tilts his head, a fond smile on his weathered, scarred face. he presses a long, warm kiss to your lips, and then your jaw, bringing his lips to your ear as he lurches over you. you stare unblinking at the corpse over his shoulder. there’s a pool of blood beneath the chair now, so dark in the low light that it resembles an alien, black mucus. his body is slumped and contorted in an unnatural position, dead eyes staring forward. watching with cuckhold perversion.
you’re distracted by your flimsy mini skirt getting kicked up by firm gloved fingers, rubbing over your panties where your clit was. his movements are gentle and precise and your vision is shrouded by your own eyelashes as they flutter. “what about her? she all mine?” he refers leudly to your cunt, applying a firmer pressure. your jaw gapes, trying to fight your gaze away to anything but your dead ex-boyfriend. dex nips at your ear and you yelp quietly. “answer me.”
“she— my pussy is all yours dex.” you whimper, hating how your body reacted to him so easily. it was just so familiar, a grounding warmth even in a horrific moment like this. you feel your shameful lust drooling from your pussy and into the delicate pink lace of your panties. dex chuckles when he dips his hand inside, swirling his fingers through your folds and smearing the arousal down to your spasming hole.
“hmm, she definitely doesn’t seem as scared as you, sweetheart.” he teases, pushing his thick fingers inside. he pulls back from your jaw to watch you, pin your gaze with his dark one. you can barely stare back as you buck into his hand. not because you couldn’t stop looking at the dead body behind him this time, no— you always squirmed and struggled to keep his gaze when you felt good like this. your eyes water, twitching and squinting as he toys with your g-spot, curling his long, precise fingers inside you.
“daddy—” you whine, humping against his hand. his lost little puppy, he just wished he got to you earlier.
“oh baby.” he chuckles, letting you drip down his wrist and up his sleeve. “so ready for me. makes you think, doesn’t it?”
the hand cupping the back of your head that had grown relaxed suddenly claws into a grip, yanking you by the hair to turn your body, pushing you against the wall of your hallway. your cheek presses to the cold paint, your boyfriend ensuring you’re staring directly at the corpse that grew colder by the minute as he uses his other hand to hold your skirt at the small of your back and fight your panties down.
dex only let’s go of your hair to make quick work of his belt, shoving his cargos down to his knees to line his tip up with your needy hole. you’re soaked, but to be extra generous he spits, the glob landing directly on the centre of his tip. his aim was impeccable after all.
he doesn’t say a word, just pushes inside you. your back arches and you gain sweet relief for a second when you squeeze your eyes shut, not having to stare at the massacre before you for a second. seated deep inside, balls resting against your ass — dex leans in, lips to the shell of your ears once more. “open those pretty eyes for me, baby.” he sounds strained, like he’s holding back a groan. “look at what i did, for you.”
you do as he says, and he sighs a kiss against your cheekbone, starting to thrust — slow at first, calculated, measured, like he’s feeling out the exact spot where the slight up-curve of his cock notches in the crook where your g-spot was. “fuck.” his voice comes out a broken moan as he indulges, briefly staring down between your bodies to admire the way you cream on his shaft in the dim light.
it’s when he turns his cheek to look at the corpse that his thrusts get harder, meaner, more merciless — almost like he was putting on a show to eyes that could no longer see.
he’s gripping your hair again, forcing you to stare back too.
“that’s it, take daddy’s dick. s’a good girl. my good girl. show him, baby. show him.” he’s growling, maddened by possessiveness. you can’t do anything but whine, held completely in place by his strong frame. in all honesty, there wasn’t anywhere you’d rather be but pinned beneath him.
“please daddy, please dad, need it, need it—” you’re just as mad with lust, and it becomes increasingly less difficult to stare at his act of love before you. you hated how easily mouldable you were, how easily you bended to his will every time he got his hands on you. you hated how special you felt, because he did this for you. you hated how hard your pussy squelched around his cock as you stared at a dead body. you hated how your ex boyfriend cheated on you, messing you up more than you already were. most importantly, you hated that once upon a time you made him love you, because now he was nothing — and thanks to dex he’d be nothing forever.
