Lilico

Pairing: Benjamin pointdexter x reader

Summary: Things keep going missing at your apartment and the fear never goes away, and the handsome man at the diner? Turns out he’s much more closer to the problem than you realize.

Wc: 5.3k

Warnings: blood and violence, detailed accounts of anxiety and paranoia, stalking, obsession, smut,dryhumping, oral (f!receiving) piv sex,

You were in a predicament.

You could feel something was wrong. The fear was coiling up deep in your tummy, snapping in loose circles to form that familiar feeling of “something is happening” every time you stepped outside and no matter how many paranoid trips you took to the nearest pharmacy round your shitty apartment block to get another prescription of sertraline, no matter how many times you looked over your shoulder to find something, anything , to find the cause of your worries, you couldn’t ever seem to pinpoint exactly what it was.

The fear followed you to the laundromat, to the bus stop where you kept counting faces to stop yourself from scratching the skin off your thumb. But your hands tangled themselves together in a sweaty mess of limbs no matter how much you tried.

Nothing ever happened.

That was the worst part.

Nobody waited outside your apartment door with a machete in their hand.

Nobody chased you with a chainsaw after you came home from your work at the diner during after-hours.

But the pressure in your stomach continued to build with no clear shape to attach the building anxiety to.

but you had an inkling.

————————————

However, your little panic attacks didn’t stop your boss from snapping at you when your hands shook scrubbing the grimy plates at your job at the local diner. You didn’t have any meaningful acquaintances in Hell’s Kitchen in the five years you had resided here- more like you didn’t bother to make any - there was your shitty situationship you only went to for a cheap fuck on especially lonely nights, then your old neighbor who gave you basket full of goods because “a young woman like you shouldn’t be starving herself”, and then the only coworker you could tolerate , Tyra.

You’d arrived in Hell’s Kitchen with a dream and a penny. Anything to get away from your shitty life back in the broken down rural west. Despite all the negative sides, Hell’s Kitchen had now embedded it’s monochromatic early mornings and vigilantes causing mayhem across the city in you, you would even go as far as to say you’d grown quite fond of it, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You’d spent more and more time at the diner, covering your co-worker’s shifts without mouthing back when they wanted to clock out early, all without asking for recompense. Anything was better than being stuck in your apartment with the anxiety now skyrocketing off your chest, and somehow being in a public space gave you the fake illusion of safety, an imaginary reprieve from a predator you weren’t privy to.

Over the years, you’d come to recognize a few customers as regulars. Knew their orders etched into the backs of your palm. There was the lady with sparse grey hair covering the side of her head- she always sat near the stall which faced the sun- she always ordered bitter espresso with cold oat milk, no added sugar. Then there were the mother and daughter duo with the same order of pancakes, topped with fruit and dollops of cream, and enough syrup to land somebody a permanent seat in the hospital for a chronic disease.

And then there was the new customer. The one who made a deep cloud of uncertainty settle into your stomach; whether to run from him, or climb into his lap and whisper to him all the ways you’d wanted to shut his stupid, handsome mouth.

Benjamin Pointdexter, he called himself.

Dex for short.

He’d been frequenting the diner for the past few months. All the same order- a stupid banana milkshake with a thick cherry sitting on top of the heavy cream.

‘You don’t look like the type of person to order a diabetic fraud’, you’d mouthed to him.

You should’ve kept your mouth shut.

Should’ve kept your head down and eyes to the counter, shoudl’ve never allowed the devil to willingly walk into your headspace and engulf you with his musky scent of pinewood and leather, and something else so heady you couldn’t describe it in any other way except that it was just so him.

He smiled a little at that.

‘there’s a lot of things you dont know about me’.

A typical response you’d get from somebody who wore gloves even despite the blazing heat of Hell’s Kitchen.

He’d kept his eyes on you the entire time he drank his order. You appreciated the ogling from this undeniably handsome stranger, but really, could he be anymore blunt in his staring? It was starting to get uncomfortable.

And this routine continued to occur. He would sit in the same seat right next to the cashiers counter, somewhere he could stare at you without explaining himself and make small talk.

You appreciated it, really.

And when the fear started numbing you, dragging you down to the depths of its icy shores, to a place where you bled color but it sank to the bottom and never revealed at the surface, you find him an anchor in the quiet stillness of the endless ocean - as meaning evaporated. And your trust in what was real became impossible.

Your therapist told you you were being paranoid. You’ve had too much to drink, shed tell you. Did you practice the grounding exercises i told you to?. You’re not being hunted, sweetie. You’re safe.

But the fear never went away. It just coiled itself around your spine, grinding itself against your vertebrae, chewing it like sugar cubes. It whispers your name, but to you now your name is just white noise. Just a collection of noises that once mattered, but not now. Not ever.

So you talk.

You talk to the handsome man who sits with his eyes holding you in his periphery at all times. You let your eyes glaze over his form and your mouth ache. You tell him how you’re not feeling good, and how you yourself can’t pinpoint what it is. What it is exactly. You tell him about the cheap beer and the microwaved food that was keeping you alive because you were too fucking scared to take a trip the convenience store one block away from your apartment in fear something was going to happen.

And he listens. He frowns at exactly the right time. He comments at exactly the right part. You feel seen for once in your miserable life. And the fear starts untangling itself in his presence.

When you return back to work after taking leave for one day after falling ill you find dex sitting in the same spot. Posture straight but shoulders hunched a little inwards, like he’s trying to curl in on himself, though his powerfully built physique does little to make that effective

“Are you ill?” He asks dryly, though his eyes betrayed the emotion he failed to convey with his voice

“How’d you know? Do I look that bad?” You reply gruffly, huffing out a little laugh.

“No, you still look gorgeous. Though there’s this tiredness in your eyes, and as you failed to show up yesterday, I might’ve put two and two together. I’m worried about you”

Gorgeous? You? He really knows how to brighten you up, huh

“Relax dex. I’m not going anywhere”

That offhand promise would come to bite you in the ass

He slowly, but surely, becomes your savior. He sits with you in the cheap diner, watches you cover others shifts because you just can’t fucking say no.

No personal questions were ever asked. You never wandered too far in his territory, always afraid of misstepping

———————————-

He noticed the slight tint of your cheeks in the dim yellow lights in the room. How could he not? You were such a fucking plague. Smiling at him like that. Laughing at his unfunny jokes like they were peak comedy. Rambling to him about how something was off, despite not knowing how close the perpetrator really was. How you looked at him with those fuck me eyes of yours, ogling at him in broad daylight too. How could he not? You had embedded yourself in every single thought he’d had waking up, even being so cruel as to reach him in his fucking dreams. He wouldn’t let this end like Julie. He wouldn’t ruin this. He needed you. And he wanted you to see it.

———————————-

The first thing you noticed was quite small.

A silly pen. With oogly eyes you’d kept near your vase right by the entrance of your doorway gone missing.To any other person, your concern might’ve been seen as stupid, rambling of a person bordering on insanity, but to you it felt like a revelation that whatever anxiety you were having was valid. Youd spent hours locked up inside your apartment before during the peak of your paranoia and memorized every single little thing in your apartment to make sure they weren’t misplaced, and you know, you were certain that you had kept the pen right next to the vase.

You triple checked yours doors that night, and placed a heavy bat into the metal knob.

This incident pushed itself to the dusty, forgotten corners of your mind as the weekend approached.

The second time this happened, it stuck with you a little more.

The diner had reached its busiest days yet. When you clocked in for the night, you instinctively shoved your hands in the pockets of your apron, but your hands curled around a familiar metal rectangle. Your lighter.

How the hell did it reach here? You never, ever, smoke during shifts. That was your unspoken vow to yourself.

However you were forced to forget about this as well as your coworker shouted your name from across the counter.

“Coming!” You yell, cursing the stupid fucking guy who always yelled at you for even your tiniest mistakes, and yet your people pleaser ass still ends up working overtime to cover his shift when he decides to ditch you last minute.

And when you came back from work to the hair tie you remember snapping and throwing away two days ago sitting on the edge of your sink, you did everything possible to keep yourself grounded. Just a coincidence. Yeah. That’s it.

Whatever fragile composure you had finally fucking shattered was when you’re new, brand new, lingerie set vanished. You had only gotten to wear it once. A pink babydoll with a matching frilly thong. You had folded it neatly and kept it in your drawers, you were fucking sure.

Next day at the diner, dex waits in his usual spot, and looking at his familiar stature gives you a sense of relief no aphrodisiac could. As the day comes to an end, you lean over the counter and finally say what’d been brewing in your mind

”i think somebody broke into my apartment”.

Dex doesn’t react immediately.

That shoudlve been your first red flag.

You shoudlve been smart enough to notice the way he stiffens up imperceptibly, gloved fingers tightening around the half finished milkshake.

Then he blinks once.

”Tell me exactly what’s been moved”. There was an underlying monotonicity in his voice that lacked any real concern, any real surprise that a normal person would have towards hearing that somebody’s apartment had been broken in.

That shoudlve been your second red flag.

Your throat tightens anyway. “I already did.”

”I mean everything,” he corrects gently. “Start from the beginning.”

You swallow. “A pen. My lighter. A hair tie. And…” your voice hitches on your breath, “…my lingerie.”

For the first time, something flickers across his face—so fast you almost miss it.

Recognition

Then its gone.

“Are you certain it wasn’t misplaced?” he asks.

There it was. That fucking question. The one your therapist kept asking. The one your coworkers kept asking. The one you kept asking yourself.

“I’m not stupid,” you retort, sharper than you intended.

A beat passes.

Then Dex nods once. “No,” he agrees. “You’re not”

Dex’s gaze returns to you.

“Did anything else feel different?” he asks..

“Yeah,” you admit. “Everything.” You ignore the pricking at the back of your neck

Silence.

Then he sets his glass down with care.

“I’ll walk you home,” he says.

You hesitate. “Dex… I didn’t ask you to—”

“I know,” he interrupts, still calm. How the fuck is he so calm?

A pause.

“But I want to.”

————————————

So you methodically do your closing rituals like you normally would in the absence of a certain blonde haired man, flick off the lights, hook your apron and slip on your jacket, and march into a comfortable silence to your home, dex falling in step next to you.

None of you bothered with small talk as you reached your apartment. And when you leaned against your doorway with a heavy sigh you huffed out a small laugh

“This is kinda overkill, don’t you think?” you say.

He shakes his head

”No.”

None of you bothered to fill the silence, but you noticed his eyes scavenging your face, landing particularly on your lips for a beat too long.

fuck it

You dont know who initiated it first but suddenly you’re locked in a particularly vicious battle of teeth, blood and hunger.

An inaudible moan erupts from the back of your throat and you feel him greedily lapping up all the noise. He tastes so fucking good, so heady and masculine and so him. You lock your hands in his hair, pulling and tugging at his blonde locks, and you hear him sigh in your lips. His hands wander, tightening his hands on your body, crushing you against him that you’re almost afraid of losing air.

He pulls away slightly, and you breathe in gasps of air. And you realize you’re still right outside your fucking apartment door

”dex.. inside” You gasp out, already flushed from the exhilarating encounter.

He chuckles at that. “Oh yeah baby, soon enough”, and you roll your eyes

”You idiot, i meant inside my apartment. Youre not planning to take me right here on the doorway right?”

”i could take you on the fucking floor and I wouldn’t care”

”but i would, asshole, my keys-“

You notice how he’s already unlocking the door. How the fuck did he find the keys? You dont have time to question before you’re being pulled inside and smashed against his lips.

You two get locked in a heated mess of lips and spit and need, and he shudders against your lips as you bite his lower lip, instantly pressing his tongue against yours, sucking and coaxing out all sorts of groans from you.

You gently maneuver him towards your bedroom, never breaking the connection once ad lower him down on your bed, pressing your lips against him once more as you climb on top of him.The new position has your torso rubbing up against his front and as much as you enjoy having more room to explore now, you despise the fact that you both are still fully clothed. A sigh escapes you as he aligns you so your cores level better.

He makes quick work of your shirt and you allow him to steer you out of it, before your smashing his lips feeling as if a single moment away from him would kill you.

You tilt your hips, angling them in a way that has your pussy rubbing over his belt buckle and the sudden pressure feels so good, so very needed that you can't help but moan as you grind down on it some more.

You can't get enough of the feel of him. He looks wonderful like this - so disheveled. his swollen llips pink from all the biting. and his black clothes rumpled. Youre hit with a feverish wave of pure need and you can’t help but paw at his clothes, removing his shirt and holy shit. He’s even more ripped than you initially thought. Toned muscles and abdomen, and the enticing happy trail disappearing down his pants which you’re so fucking eager to explore.

You pull off his belt and he lifts his hips in order to give you access to pull down his pants from under him and he does the same to you until you’re left in your undergarments.

You need to feel him, you need to see him, but he hastens your movement as you try to drag his briefs down and shakes his head

”need to make you feel good, baby” he has that promising glint in his eyes and you’re too fucking eager to feel him to decline.

So you allow him to switch positions until you’re the one under him. He crawls on top of you, hooking his finger under your bra and unlatching it. You instinctively try to cover yourself but he grasps your wrists and crosses them on top your head, covering them with his large hands

”no, no baby, no hiding, let me see all of you” he sucks a spot in the side of your neck, trailing down towards your bare chest. He grasps one tit in his hand and suckles on the other, swirling and licking the nipple and you gasp, back arching into his chest.

He makes his way downward, his lips leaving a raging fire in its wake. He pulls your drenched panties down your legs, and your slick connects you to the almost see through fabric.

“Baby you're drenched”, and dex sounds downright tortured. Like a man starved and withheld from what he needs most - and right now that thing is you and only you.He traces the spot where you need him most, slickening your little bundle of nerves with the wetness he collected dripping from your hole. Dex suddenly pushes two fingers inside your cunt, burying them in your squelching walls until you feel his knuckles press flush against your slick flesh. A hoarse moan immediately rips free from your throat, loud and unrestrained as you didn't expect this sudden intrusion at all.

It seems like a switch has been flipped inside of him. Dex curls his fingers inside of you, prodding and looking for all of your most sensitive spots. The feel of it is overwhelming.When his thumb rubs against your sensitive clit, his thick fingers simultaneously thrusting into you, another flurry of sounds escapes you against your will. It’s too much, yet it’s so little at the same time. You want something else, and you want it right now.

“Mmh- god, pleas- don't stop.” It's ridiculous, how quickly your ability to speak has fled you, but it's nothing you pay any mind to. You would willingly reduce yourself to a stupid bimbo if dex continues his brutality against your pussy anytime

“Don't worry, lovely, I won't.” And then he captures your lips again, groaning into your mouth as he does. Tangling his tongue with yours and ravaging both your mouth and pussy simultaneously.

He lowers himself down once again, and dives right in. Dex laps at your pussy like a madman, no build-up, no slow start. He immediately starts sucking and twirling without mercy, circling your most sensitive spot while simultaneously fingerfucking you, reaching that cushiony spot you couldn’t ever reach by yourself.

He looks so pussydrunk, and as you tangle your head in his hair he whines as if a single moment from your pussy would physically kill him. Your thighs jerk and spam as you wrap them around his head, trying to decide whether to push him away or physically bury him in your cunt

“H-holy shit dex, holy fuck..” the pleasure hit you with full force

You thread your fingers into his hair and try to push him away as the telltale signs of an orgasm build up on you and the feeling gets too much, but he doesn’t waiver once, mouth stuck to your clit as he harshly laps up the nub.

The orgasm hits you with such force that even your voice cracks in the middle of your pleasured moan.

“That’s my good girl”, dex murmurs encouragingly, barely loud enough to be audible between your labored breaths as he slowly laps away at your core and eases his fingers into your twitching cunt again and again to prolong your bliss and torture, your core clenching and the overstimulation slowly fading the pleasure into pain.

You try to come down from the high, as dex plucks his fingers out of you. Holy shit, that was the wildest orgasm you’ve ever had

You watch as he brings the soaked digits to his mouth, groaning as he licks your slick off them clean.

“Stop stalling and fuck me already.” You breathe out

“Be careful what you wish for, love” you groan as he fi-fucking-ally pulls downs his briefs and oh

Oh

You wrap your fingers around his length, already spilling precum, flushed red and so painfully hard. And you can barely close your fists around his thick cock.holy shit he’s going to fucking tear you apart. For a good few seconds you’re just fisting your hands around his cock as he hisses through his teeth, mind stunned and pupils blow apart.

“Can’t wait any longer, love” he drags your hand apart from his cock, and you could see the slight tremor in his hand as if it physically pained him to do so

“Need to feel your pretty pussy around me”.

“Condom or no?”

“I’m on birth control, dex” and that’s all the confirmation he needed before he fucked you raw

his right arm wraps behind your left knee, pulling your leg up to your chest and then you feel his cock press up and against you. There’s barely enough time to draw in a full breath before he’s notched at your entrance and he buries his entire throbbing length into your waiting cunt with one brutal snap of his hips.

he grabs you tightly, leaving you no escape, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave purple bruises where ever he makes contact with your body. He rolls his hips forward, pushing his cock even deeper into you and you just feel so full.

You gasp, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you’re suddenly overtaken by a feeling so intense you don’t know what to do with your hands anymore. So you try to anchor yourself by scratching his back bloody. Nails skimming across his shoulders, his chest, as he pulls his cock all the way out before giving an experimental push and you scream.

“I-it’s-holy fuck dex - it feels so good” you can’t form any thoughts except for how how fucking good this feels, and how you’d die happy under him, legs bent all the way to your chest and not being able to do anything as you just take it. When he starts thrusting with full vigor, you swear you see god.

“Shit, you’re tight”, he curses under his breath, groaning out all his frustrations into your mouth as he captures it again, and your tongues clash in a messy battle.

His thrusts are deep, long, hard strokes that push his cockhead against your womb upon every stroke.His thrusts only seem to be getting rougher, balls slapping against your ass every time he rams his cock into your soaked pussy, smearing your juices between your bodies. The sounds he made were just purely pornographic. You didn't even realize another orgasm was building before the tension accumulated in your muscles starts stiffening your limbs around dex’s waist

“Are you gonna cum, love? Are you gonna give me another one?” And that throws you off the edge, your cunt pulsing around his cock, as rivulets of your juice flow down your enjoined bodies and your orgasm tears you from the inside out. Your eyes shutter in pure bliss.

“OhmygodohmyfuckingGod—D-Dex—” it was just too much

He never falters even a little, jackhammering into your tight cunt. The sounds that bounced off the walls were just so lewd and filthy. You drag your nails across his shoulders, and that pulls him over the edge with you.

He buries his face in your shoulder, groaning huskily in your ear, and you feel you could cum again with just that.

Liquid heat spreads through your insides, urging you on to grind yourself down harder against him, milking his throbbing cock and riding out the waves of your earth shattering orgasm as he stuffs you so full it leaks out of you in thick, messy rivulets.

That was undeniably the best sex of your life.

————————————

After the first time, dex and you fall into an unpredictable rhythm, the sex was always the same -mindblowing - but the relationship had no clear label on it.

You took leave from the diner for one day.

One fucking day.

And the next hour, news about a manslaughter in broad daylight occurring in the same diner you worked at was plastered across the city

And the remaining witnesses describe the culprit all the same - cropped blond hair, and a healed gash on his cheek

There’s no fucking way.

Absolutely none, nope. There was no way. You don’t even let yourself think of what this could mean for you

Instead you fall into the same rambling incoherent mess that you once were before dex. Checking the doors over and over again, the windows all bolted shut. But this time you had a pretty certain inkling you couldn’t run from him no matter how much you tried.

————————————

He had knocked on your apartment that week

All bloody, fresh cuts loitering his body, as you watched him from the peephole

You knew this was wrong, you knew he was wrong. But you just couldn’t not let him in

You knew this was so fucking wrong

But your hands found the doorknob anyway.

“I can explain baby”. He’s injured. You can tell that.

“Were you the one that killed those people at my diner?” You get straight to the point, despite how your body wants to physically pull him closer.

“I can explain.” His voice is flat now, devoid of any depth.

“No, no dex I don’t think you can. Who the fuck are you?” You’re on the urge of pulling out your hair, you wanted safety, because the only time the fear actually stopped pulsing in you was when you were around dex, but now that illusion has come crashing down.

“Baby I told you I can explain, I’m gonna make this right, I swear I am”. You huff out a laugh

“You could’ve at least fucking told me I was riding a fucking murderers dick every night, dex, holy fuck, how can you explain this? Stop lying to me!”

“You think I’m lying to you?.” Was he being dense on purpose?

You let out a laugh that sounds closer to a choke.

“I think half the people I worked with are dead.”you snap

He doesn’t deny the statement.

Yet he doesn’t look guilty. Or ashamed.

He doesn’t even flinch.

“I didn’t come here to hurt you.”

“Oh, that’s supposed to make me feel better?” You snap. “I-I fucking trusted you!”

“You’re a fucking murderer dex!”

“I didn’t lie about you. I-I need you sweetheart, you need to understand” his voice cracks in the middle, like his composure is pulling apart at the seams

Whys he so stuck on the lying part?

“I’m trying, dex, I’m trying to understand what is wrong with you. I trusted you enough whenever I was feeling paranoid, whenever this fear creeped up on me and you made it better. How will I ever rest easy knowing I had a murderer on speed dial?!”

“I know” he breathes out

“I told you I was terrified” you’re on the verge of crashing down

“I know”

“You sat there and listened to me sound insane”

His face morphs a little at that. Something akin to frustration.

“You weren’t insane, baby”

“Then what was I?”

Silence.

“Dex”

His eyes lift to yours

“What was I?”

“Scared.”

“No shit.”

“You had a reason to be.”

Your heartbeat thunders.

“What?”

Dex’s expression changes immediately.

“What did you just say?”

“Baby—”

“No.”

You point at him.

“What did you just say?”

His gaze drops briefly to the floor.

A habit you’ve noticed before. When he’s trying hard to be truthful..

“You had a reason to be scared.” The words come slower now. Each syllable ringed out.

You take another step back.

“Why?”

No answer. And you feel your chest tighten.

“Why, Dex?”

His eyes flick up.

“I never wanted you scared.” The response is immediate, like something that’s been building up has finally come crashing down.

But you know what this is. This is an admission.

“You knew.”

“Doll—”

“You knew.”

His jaw clenches.

“You kept telling me everything was okay.”

You feel tears threatening to spill. He knew. He fucking knew. Every time he sat across from you on the counter, he already fucking knew when you told him about the misplaced things in your house. He fucking knew. And that hurt more than the murders, more than the blood staining his clothes.

“The pen.”

The words leave your mouth as a violent sob burst .

You don’t even know why.

“The stupid pen with the googly eyes.”

Dex freezes, movement stiffening.

But you catch it.

And that’s all it takes to confirm.

Oh.

Oh.

“You know what happened to it.” A statement.

“Dex.”

You can barely hear yourself.

“Dex, tell me you don’t know what happened to it.”

His eyes close like he’s in pain.

“I wasn’t going to keep it.” The air leaves your lungs.

He admitted it so fucking casually.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

A laugh breaks out of you. You hastily wipe away your tears

“You broke into my apartment.”

“I never hurt you.”

“You stole from me.”

“I never hurt you.”

“You watched me.”

“Dex…” Your voice cracks, “Do you hear yourself?” You need him to understand.

He takes a step closer to you, slowly, like he’s approaching a cornered, frightened animal.

“I know you’re scared.”

“Of course I’m fucking scared!.” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused.

“I never touched you without your permission,

I never threatened you baby, never let anything happen to you.”

“Dex, there shouldn’t have been anything to stop.” Your voice breaks as you give up. You don’t know what to do. How those months that you spent in fear were being inflicted by the exact man who you were fucking, who also ended up being a murderer. Great. Just your luck.

“I don’t know what to do with this.” You’re so tired and the apartment feel so small with his frame engulfing your living room, the blood from his cuts pooling on the floor. You were out of your Oxiclean, you realize with a little huff. Wrong time to be thinking that.

“You don’t have to figure it out tonight, doll” dex murmurs, stepping close, not enough to corner you, but close enough you can feel the body heat emanating off him.

“I know you’re angry”, his gaze drops down to the floor, “And you have every right to be”

Your throat tightens.

“I never wanted to scare you, baby.”

“I know.” The words leave before you can stop them.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? You do know.

You believe him. Even now.

Dex reaches for your hand slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

When you don’t, his fingers close around yours.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

You close your eyes.

Because for the first time all night, you think that’s the one thing he’s saying that might actually be true.