I love your dex stuff truly it makes me giggle!! You add a humorous side to your writing that other dex writers miss, they make him too serious! I have a request.. you’ve done jealous Dex but how would jealous reader look like?? Thank u!! <3
Cry Baby!
Benjamin Poindexter x gn! Reader
warning: jealousy, dex kinda ragebaiting you, sex ban (he deserves it)!!, fluff
A/N: AHHHH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU🥹🥹 The compliments I get mean so much to me <33 I hope you enjoy this 💘 Had so much fun writing this :))
Dex noticed something was wrong the second you stopped talking in the car.
Usually after going out somewhere, the two of you always ended up talking about something stupid on the drive home. You’d complain about people, make fun of strangers together, tease him for glaring at somebody too hard. There was always noise.
Tonight? Nothing. You just stared out the window while the city lights passed across your face.
Dex glanced at you briefly from the driver’s seat. “You tired?”
“Mhm.” Short answer. Definitely annoyed. He noticed immediately.
The problem with dating Dex was that he observed people for a living. Tiny changes in breathing, posture, eye movement: he caught all of it without trying. So the second you started acting quieter after that woman approached him at the bar, he already knew something was up.
He just didn’t know how funny it was yet.
By the time you got back to the apartment, you were still visibly irritated. Not dramatic about it. Just… off.
You dropped your keys onto the kitchen counter harder than necessary before heading for the fridge. Dex leaned against the doorway silently watching you.
There it is. The little tension in your shoulders. The avoiding eye contact. Oh this was jealousy.
Dex bit back a smile immediately.
“You mad at me?” he asked casually.
“No.”
“Okay.” You grabbed a water bottle aggressively. Dex was absolutely certain now. Even worse is that this was adorable for Dex.
He walked over slowly, stopping beside you at the counter. “You sure?”
“Yes.” Another short answer. Dex had to physically stop himself from laughing. Because you looked genuinely upset while also trying so hard not to show it.
“Baby,” he said softly. “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Mhm.”
“I’m just tired.” You twisted the water bottle cap open while avoiding looking at him. Dex tilted his head slightly, studying you for another second before realization fully clicked into place.
This was about the woman from earlier. The one who practically threw herself at him while you sat right there beside him at the bar. The interaction lasted maybe two minutes total.
She walked over smiling, touched his arm twice, and asked if he was single while very obviously pretending not to notice you sitting next to him.
Dex barely even looked at her.
“No,” he told her flatly. “I’m happily taken to this wonderful person in front of me.” Then he immediately turned back toward you and continued your conversation like nothing happened.
That should’ve been the end of it. Apparently not.
“You’re jealous.” Dex said suddenly. He knows that this is about this woman from the bar. 100%
“I’m not jealous.” Your head snapped toward him immediately. You were absolutely jealous.
Dex felt something warm spread through his chest instantly. Because this was new. Usually he was the insane jealous one between you two. He was the one glaring at strangers for looking at you too long. He was the one spiraling because somebody touched your arm while talking.
But you? You almost never got possessive. Which meant this was incredibly entertaining for him. Maybe now he can understand how you feel when he gets jealous.
“You are.” he said, visibly amused now.
“I’m literally not.” you raise one eyebrow and look at him weird.
“The girl at the bar bothered you.”
“She didn’t bother me.”
“You’ve been mad for forty minutes.”
“I am NOT mad.” Dex finally smiled fully at that. And unfortunately for you, once he found something funny, he became the most annoying person alive.
“Awww.” he cooed softly. Your eyes narrowed immediately.
“What.” you ask him, completely confused why he just cooed.
“You’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” you repeated through clenched teeth.
“Cry baby.”
You blinked at him. “What?”
Dex walked closer with the most irritatingly soft expression on his face. “It’s okay.”
“…What is okay?”
“You being jealous.”
“I’m not-” he doesn’t let you finish speaking and interrupts you instead.
“My poor little cry baby.”
You stared at him in genuine confusion now. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
Dex looked way too pleased with himself. “Because you look upset.”
“I don’t look upset enough to be called a cry baby.”
“No?” He tilted his head slightly. “You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Awww.” He reached over and pinched your cheek lightly. “Don’t cry. It’s okay to be a cry baby.”
Your jaw dropped slightly. “Dex.”
“There it is.”
“What.”
“That offended look.” He grinned. “Cute.” You were genuinely getting annoyed now while Dex looked like he was having the time of his life.
“You’re actually insufferable.”
“And you’re jealous.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.” Unfortunately, he said it with complete confidence. Because he knew you too well. Dex leaned against the counter beside you, still smiling faintly while watching your increasingly irritated expression.
“You know what’s funny?” he asked casually.
“What.”
“I didn’t even talk to her.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows lifted. “So what is the point?”
You crossed your arms tightly. “She was practically in your lap.”
“She touched my arm twice.”
“She was flirting with you right in front of me.”
“And?” You stared at him in disbelief.
“And??” Dex looked way too entertained now.
“I told her I was taken.”
“You seemed very calm about it.” That made him laugh quietly under his breath.
“You wanted me to what? Bite her?”
“Maybe a little.” Dex’s entire expression softened instantly at that answer. God, you were cute when you were jealous. Especially because you clearly hated being jealous. You looked genuinely annoyed with yourself for caring this much. Meanwhile Dex felt almost smug about it.
“You know,” he murmured, stepping closer again, “I kinda like this.”
“Of course you would.” you let out a dramatic and long sigh. Is this how he feels when he gets jealous?
“You get all grumpy.”
“I am not grumpy.”
“Baby, you’ve been glaring at your water bottle for ten minutes.” You looked down immediately like the bottle personally betrayed you. Dex almost laughed again. Then he made things worse.
“You know she called me handsome?” Your head whipped toward him so fast he nearly lost composure completely.
“Benjamin Poindexter.”
“Full name now?” He looked innocent. “But she did call me that.”
“I don’t care.”
“Mhm.”
“She looked fake anyway.” That fully broke him. Dex laughed openly now, leaning forward against the counter while you glared at him harder.
“Oh my god,” he said through laughter. “You were judging her too?”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.” Unfortunately he’s right. You don’t hate his annoying ass.
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“I really am.” You stared at him for another long second before your expression flattened completely. Dex immediately got suspicious.
“What.” You took a sip of water calmly.
“Nothing.”
“No, what was that look?”
You shrugged. “Just thinking.”
Oh if only he knew what you’re gonna say next.
“About?” Then you looked him dead in the eyes and said completely blankly:
“You’re on a sex ban for two weeks.” Silence. Dex blinked once. You visibly see that he’s trying to process what you just said.
“…What?”
“Two weeks.” His smile vanished instantly.
“Wait no.”
“Yes.” you reply calm.
“Baby.”
“Nope.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I absolutely can.” He stared at you in genuine horror now while you calmly screwed the cap back onto your water bottle.
“Two weeks because you’re annoying.”
“That’s not fair.” he whines and you’re trying your absolute best to not start laughing at his face.
“You called me a cry baby three times.”
“You were acting like one!”
“Now it’s three weeks.”
“Okay wait hold on-” Dex immediately pushed himself off the counter. You walked past him toward the bedroom looking way too satisfied with yourself. He followed right behind you in actual distress.
“You’re joking.” You said nothing.
“Baby.” Nope. Still nothing. Dex grabbed your wrist gently before you could disappear into the bedroom, pulling you back toward him with a deeply offended expression.
“You can’t weaponize affection. You know how much I love makin love to you. ”
“You rage baited me.”
“You started it.”
“You continued it.” Dex stared at you for another second before narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
“…One week.”
“Three.”
“Baby please.” he starts begging you at this point. You’re enjoying this more than you should.
Summary: Matt gets hot and bothered when you start touching his scars.
Warnings/Tags: 18+, MDNI, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), biblically accurate whiny Matt, scratching, scars, no choking but Matt puts his hand on your throat to feel you moan, mentions of past violence, sorta overstimulation.
"What happened here?"
Matt dragged his hand down your naked thigh, and a shudder overwhelmed his already overstimulated body as your fingers absentmindedly danced across his slick shoulders. He slowly raised his attention from where it had strayed between your knees, and his swollen lips parted with a shaky exhale.
"What?"
You cocked your head, and your warm cheeks pulled tight with a smile as you traced the same line again.
"Your scar," you said, idly stroking the skin. "I've never noticed this one before." He could hear your eyes shift back to his face. "What happened?"
A breathy chuckle left his mouth, and he hung his head, a lock of damp hair sweeping past his flushed cheek.
"It's hard to remember," he admitted, skimming his lips over the inside of your knee. "They've all started to blur together at this point."
You pressed your lips together in amusement, and your hands shifted to tickle his delt, tracing the silver lines littering the flexing muscle as he shifted above you.
"I like looking at them," you murmured as his mouth wandered back to your knees, the sound of your drumming pulse drowning out most of your audible sentiment. "I like looking at you."
"I like looking at you, too," Matt murmured, a smile splitting across his busy lips at your following giggle. His eyes flicked in the direction of your face, and he raised a brow. "Can I continue now?" he asked, already beginning to trail kisses down the inside seam of your thigh. You hummed in confirmation, but your hands continued to wander.
The warmth of your scent overwhelmed his senses as Matt lowered his face between your parted legs. Heat radiated from your parted folds, and the resounding sound of your hammering pulse had his eyes rolling back into his head. He took you by the ankles when your legs threatened to close, grounding himself as his thoughts grew hazy. Your body twitched with anticipation, and your breath hitched as his lips skimmed your slick skin. The sheets shifted beneath you as your shoulder drew together.
And yet, despite gripping your thighs as they quivered with pleasure, despite smelling your arousal as it flooded your slit, despite listening to the high-pitched noises as they freely left your parted lips, and despite sensing all other clear signs of your obvious, mind melting pleasure, you still managed to ask, "And this one?"
He blinked, and the sound of your steady voice had his working mouth pausing.
"What?"
A full laugh rumbled through your body, and he listened to the friction of skin against fabric as you relaxed back deep within the ruffled sheets. You brushed your thumb over a thick, raised piece of healed skin stretching from the tip of his bicep down to the junction of his elbow.
"This scar, Matt," you said, the sensation of your fingers sending goosebumps erupting across his upper body. "How'd you get this one?"
Matt's face contorted out of confusion—brows rubbing one another and nose wrinkling—and audible evidence of his perplexity escaped from his throat as he opened his slick mouth.
"You're still talking about the scars?" he asked, and the heat of your cheeks moved as you nodded. "Really?"
"Afraid so," you teased, and you must have noticed his face falter because you quickly added, "I'm curious!"
"But why now?" Matt asked. "I'm sort of in the middle of trying to do something with you, and you—" he began, frustration apparent as he shifted, "—and all you want to do is... is—what?" he asked, shadow swallowing you as he buried his anchoring hand into the sheets besides your head. "Listen to me talk about all the times I've been stabbed?"
It was difficult to differentiate between the beat of his own irritation-fueled, escalating pulse and the excitement of yours. One of your wandering hands smothered itself over his heart and the other cupped his heaving side, and the effect of your hot palms on his skin was immediate and obvious; his jaw fell open, his eyes practically crossed, and his entire body jolted under the touch of your nimble fingertips as you played his protruding abs like the strings on a guitar.
Matt couldn't hold back the strangled mewl that fell from his numb mouth as his dick twitched against the smooth skin of your belly.
"I thought you liked it when I touched you, Matthew," you murmured, and he grit his teeth at the clear amusement in your voice. "Do you want me to stop?"
"No," he said quickly before snapping his jaw shut and hanging his head. "Don't."
"Then tell me about this one," you said, and he felt the tip of your finger encircle a prominent scar on his lower ribs. A whine left his throat at the sensation, and he struggled to keep his answer steady.
"Bullet," Mat bit. "'Just grazed me. I—" he began, but the words fell out of his wide open mouth as you palmed his twitching pec. "I can't remember who shot it."
He felt your hand wander from his side, and you repositioned your arms to rest over his shoulder, your fingers continuing to explore the expanse of his quaking back.
"You've got a lot over here," you murmured as he managed to slowly lower himself to his elbows. His hips moved at their own accord, smothering his dick between his own quivering stomach and yours. Matt had to bury his face in the crook of your neck to muffle his groans as you poked and prodded at his back. "You should watch your back more often."
"I'll keep that in mind," he grunted only for his entire body to seize as you dipped two fingers into the cavern of muscle that trailed along his spine. You hummed and followed the wide scar all the way down to his lower back which arched into your touch. His hips twitched out of instinct, and Matt moaned as his dick pulsed.
"What happened here?"
"Jesus, woman," he whined, fisting the sheets beside your face. "Knife—no—hook," he said, swallowing. "It was—uh—Japanese mobsters—the Yakuza."
"Did they catch you by surprise?" you asked, and his breath hitched as you dug your fingers into the superficial skin. "'Seems like it was deep."
"It was," Matt wheezed, audibly out of breath. "It was very," he murmured, and thrusted his hips against your stomach, desperate for friction, "very deep."
Your fingers danced over the healed-over skin, gently massaging the growing ache in his tense muscles.
"Do any of them still hurt?"
He huffed into your neck, and his jaw felt like it was permanently hinged open.
"That one does sometimes," he murmured into your skin, lips wet with his own saliva and your slick, "but it's better when you—" he tried, and his back arched like a cat's into your palm, his dick bobbing against his stomach "—when you touch it like that."
"Maybe I should touch you more often," you said, and his eyes rolled back into his head as your hands flattened out across his lower back and sunk his hips into yours. The tip of his dick ground into your folds under the pressure of your hands, pushing roughly against your slit for somewhere to go before clipping your hole and slipping inside in one swift motion.
Matt's entire body shuddered, already overstimulated as he wetly moaned your name in your neck. You hummed, and your smile brushed the shell of his ear. "It seems like you enjoy it when I touch you, Matthew."
No longer able to think clearly with the horny haze fogging up his mind, Matt's hips moved on their own accord. His own slick, trembling skin slapped against your composed hips, and his cock chased its own high while the rest of his body found overwhelming stimulation from your prodding fingers. Every swipe, smother, and stroke of your hands had his body jerking and twitching like a man possessed.
Matt desperately mouthed at your pulse, and he swallowed around the pound of your heartbeat to muffle his whines when the signs of your whittling composure flooded his senses; your breathing had grown erratic, the rise and fall of your hips threatened to fall out of time with his own rhythm, and the most wonderful sounds vibrated the box deep in your throat.
"Matt," you gasped as his hand reached up to rest around your throat. A strangled cry left his wide open mouth as your vocal cords hummed like electrical wire beneath his palm, the signs of your need overwhelming his system. Your hands grasped his shoulders to ground yourself as his pace began to falter. His mouth moved against your neck, but he couldn't form words. "Oh, Jesus, Matthew."
The noises fell freely from his mouth as he felt your slick legs lock around his tilted hips, and your hands desperately clawed at his back for something to hang onto. Matt's entire body convulsed as your nails dug themselves deep into his middle back and dragged themselves all the way back up to his shoulders. And as your body seized around his, the pressure inflaming the burn of the long scratches marring his back, for a moment, Matt swore he saw God. His hips chased the internal pleasure as a hot, white, overstimulated shock overwhelmed him, and his dick jerked within your mutual release.
It sounded like he was underwater, and only the thunderous, slowing pulse of your heartbeat broke through his waterlogged ears. His whine was muffled as he slowly pulled his hips from yours, his core quivering and his thighs trembling, and he lazily reached up to wipe the mess of drool from his lips as he raised his head.
One of your hands cupped his jaw, and your thumb smeared the remaining spit on his lips.
"What's this one from?"
Matt hummed as your voice broke through the obstruction in his ears, and he leaned into your palm as your thumb passed over his top lip to follow the ridge of an old scar. An exhausted chuckle ripped through his spent lungs.
"You really are somethin' else," he grumbled, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. You grinned against him and lazily threw your arms around his neck, brushing the fresh marks lingering in his skin.
"I think you might've given me some new scars," he murmured, rolling his shoulders back. Goosebumps erupted across his body as you tickled the fresh area of sensitivity.
In love with anything that contains men with blood on their face…
Like, thats right you’re so manly and tough, you can fight damn
These three are literally all different species. Random headcannons for them>>>
>Dex is a mentally ill, aggressive, violent man who is ready to do anything to get you and keep you. He can be like a horror movie if you push him hard enough.
In truth, you don’t even have to push him for him to get scary.
He can hurt you if he “has” to meaning he will follow you if he thinks he needs to and after some good thinking through, he might even be ready to swipe you off the street when you turn to a slightly darker street.
Jail doesn’t change him at all. He just can’t wait to get out somehow and get to the people he needs to.
When he has his mind on someone, he will think about that person absolutely all of the time, especially if he feels some kind of love towards them.
He feels love in a much different way. He feels like he needs that person, and that nobody understands that this need feels like his life actually depends on it. Like he depends on air and water.
<Frank is a man who is also aggressive and violent but would never even in his dreams lay a hand on you or wish to scare you on purpose.
He would kill more than he could count if he had to, but you would be safe and sound.
He loves being a man. Providing and guarding. Like some kind of dog. You keep him on a leash and whatever you said, that was law. You felt scared? Thats over. You were hungry? He would bring food on the table. Someone threatened you? He’d gauge his eyes out.
It wasn’t really complicated. He would simply do anything and everything.
At first he is reluctant about letting you in, but when he realises theres no escaping his own feelings, he falls harder than ever. His fear doubles because he’s lost everything once already, and surviving that again would be a hard pill to swallow.
He just wants domestic love. Dinner and kisses. But instead fate has dealt him quite the opposite.
=Matt is a quiet lover. He Is soft, calm and collected in every possible scenario, and you have no idea how he does it. Maybe it’s because of his faith, you think. Or maybe because his other senses are so well developed. Who knows.
Thinks its better to keep you in the dark about things so nobody gets hurt. Especially you. Being quiet is the way you stay safe. Anyone can learn from that right? Being quiet never got someone in trouble.
If someone asked, you knew Matt, that was it. Only far later did he tell you who he was also.
Unlike Dex who would do anything to keep you with him, Frank who thinks keeping you safe and near was the way, Matt often sees that walking away is the best choice.
His identity cannot hurt you if he wasn’t there. But he loves you. If needed, he was ready to let you go.
But if you ever came to his mind, he would always imagine a simple life. An apartment for both of you with no real danger besides court looking at him in disagreement when he was defending someone.
SYNOPSIS: You worked as a prison psychologist, you were face to face with the worst criminals of New York every day, but was it scary? Yes. It was. But somehow the thrill of it all overruled the feeling of fear. The information you got, stored, gave away. Since your friend Foggy Nelson died you decided to seek out his killer, Benjamin Poindexter. To what end? You didn't know yet. All you knew was that you had to meet him. What you didn't know when you took the job was that it would make your life a whole lot messier. Your friendships were at stake, your life, your morals. Would you give it all up? For a certain criminal?
PAIRING: Benjamin Poindexter x Psychologist reader
TAGS: Violence, mature themes, sexual content, slowburn, enemies to lovers, lethal violence. This takes place in the same timeline as ”daredevil born again” with references to season 3 of daredevil. Reader is 26 while Dex is 28
PREVIEW
It should be studied, how the world quiets within the walls of a prison. How it all suddenly feels cold and clinical, like the stillness had always been there, waiting.
Was it scary?
Was a question you commonly got asked by acquaintances and family. Working as a prison psychologist, talking to some of the worst people of New York. Sure, plainly said, it could be scary. Sitting face to face with the person who'd just been a headline of the bulletin was always, unsettling. Fortunately, you and the prison had an agreement. Your arrangement with the institution granted you a privilege few others enjoyed. You selected your own patients. You only had 6 clients currently, most in solitary confinement. The most recent one was also the one you took the job for—Benjamin Poindexter.
Your heels struck the stone floor in a measured rhythm as you crossed the main corridor, the sound echoing against the blank walls. The guards by the entrance offered curt nods as a greeting. you had been working at Rikers Island for only a matter of weeks now, just getting settled, yet you've become a familiar figure for the guards. There weren't many new employees on Rikers Island.
The metal detector emitted a sharp beeping sound as you walked through.
Your earrings.
You looked at the guards for confirmation, they nodded and let you pass. You knew that you didn't carry anything of value, well of danger with you to the prison but still your heart started racing every time you heard that beeping noise.
The rest of the procedure went smoothly, they searched your bag, checked your ID, professional pleasantries were exchanged and then you went on with your day.
You were dressed deliberately, a mix of fashion and professionalism. In simple black sheer tights, traced with one long stripe at the back. A black pencil skirt, a crisp modest white blouse and your blazer. Predictable, professional and flawless.
You'd probably dress a bit differently if you were the general psychiatrist and you had to meet all the prisoners, but you only met around two a day and your office was located on the north side of the prison, away from all inmates.
You made your was towards your office, being escorted by a guard a few steps behind you. The part of the building you were escorted in was almost empty, no inmates in sight. Which was a relief, it wasn't always easy being a woman with this job.
After a few minutes you arrived at your office, bold letters on the dimmed glass signed your name.
Y/N MATTHEWS — Prison psychologist & former psychiatrist
You unlocked and stepped inside, you had redecorated quite a bit, the former physiologist had been pretty boring. You had made the space a bit more of your own, with white bookshelves, one or two plants and some small decorative pieces. You sighed as you sat down in your chair, you knew what was waiting. It was staring right at you, the papers signing you off to be Benjamin Poindexters new psychologist were staring right at you. They were laid out on your desk, appointment scheduling, do's and don'ts, cautionary disciplines and well, what could happen in contact with him.
You knew all to well what he could do, what he was capable of doing. You had seen it, that night when Foggy died. That was why you took this job, you weren't sure yet what it was for, revenge, could you make his life worse? To get info about him to Matt—daredevil? Karen.
It was all a mess, you buried your face in your hands, probably smudging your makeup a little. The clock on your desk ticked away, 9:00 was glowing in red bold letters.
Your next appointment at 9:30 with no other than Benjamin Poindexter.
FIC ON WATTPAD ”TRUST ME | BENJAMIN POINDEXTER” BY Bookwh0rw. CHAPTERS OUT NOW
