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eiightysixbaby · 10 months

Text

afterglow

part 2 to cruel summer

tell me that i’m all you want, even when i break your heart

word count: 10.2k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you navigate the aftermath of your confession to eddie, but forgetting him is harder than you thought. it’s up to him to make things right.

cw: 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI. angst, use of y/n, eddie and reader being lovesick for each other, tooth rotting fluff, use of pet names, unprotected p in v, oral f receiving

author’s note: i am so, SO beyond excited to share this finally! thank y’all so much for the love on cruel summer, i hope you all enjoy part 2 just as much. this is inspired by afterglow by miss taylor swift, so go listen to that if you haven’t! okay smooches love u all hope u enjoy

part one

It had only been a few days since you confessed your love to Eddie and he left you without a word, but it felt like it had been years. Every minute crawling by, the hole in your heart seeming to grow rather than get any smaller. Your mind was ping-ponging back and forth between being furious with Eddie, and missing him and yearning for his touch. In all honesty, you mostly felt horrible for the way you yelled at him. Sure, he wasn’t being considerate of your feelings and he was being a bit of an asshole, but how was he supposed to know you loved him? You don’t even know if you knew you did until you were screaming it in his face. It’s not right what Eddie did, making you feel special and then turning around and flirting with other girls in front of you, but it’s not right for you to get mad at him for not being exclusive with you when the two of you were only supposed to be fuck buddies, and you weren’t supposed to have feelings for him. The guilt was eating away at you, and now that you’d gone and blindsided him with the confession of your feelings, you knew you couldn’t fix things. He clearly didn’t feel the same way, and he clearly didn’t want to rectify the situation at hand. But there were also moments where the guilt would subside and you were filled with pure rage, wanting to hurt him the way he’d hurt you. To say you were conflicted was an understatement.

In actuality, Eddie was doing no better than you were. He’d barely slept since the night he left your place, the bags under his eyes growing increasingly dark and his mood constantly agitated. You loved him. How could that be? Had he really been that fucking blind? Admittedly, Eddie’s never been great with the whole “feelings” thing. Screwing around with a different girl every week was fun for him because no deeper feelings were involved. It allowed him to get those brief dopamine rushes without the room to get attached to someone, just for them to end up leaving him when they really got to know him. But it was always different with you, from the moment the first line was blurred and you crossed into uncharted territory with each other, it was different. This had unnerved Eddie initially, the way everything felt softer with you, more intimate. He couldn’t let himself fall for you, and so he kept you at arm’s length - or tried to, anyways. He’d continue to flirt with other girls, to sleep with other girls in hopes that it would keep his mind off of you. He needed to keep himself in the routine of bouncing around so that his brain wasn’t hyper fixated on you. Your mutual agreement to have a little friends-with-benefits situation surely meant that you didn’t feel anything more for him, right? He couldn’t be the one that fell head over heels for you, just for you to leave him in the dust.

He should have fucking known you’d never do that to him. And now here he was, the asshole that hurt you probably beyond repair. All because he couldn’t work out his feelings, couldn’t face you in the event that you rejected him. He scoffs at himself, because look at how he handled things, leaving your apartment without so much as a word after you confessed your fucking love to him. Eddie groans, flopping face first into his pillows, letting out a long exasperated sigh. The moment you said you loved him he’d wanted to say it back without an ounce of hesitation, and honestly, that terrified him to his core. He’s never loved someone like that, it’s different than the love he holds for his friends or Wayne, or that old trailer park cat he’d befriended as a child . The love he felt for you was all-consuming in a new way, and it made him sick to his stomach with unease. He’s startled by a knock rattling the trailer, and he heaves himself off his bed with a huff. A frown is etched onto his face, his hair a wild mess as he opens the rickety door to the trailer. There on his front step is Nancy and Jonathan. Oh fuck.

•

“-And so, we just kind of want to know a little bit about what happened, on your end? She didn’t really give us a whole lot to go off of other than you flirting with the bartender…” Nancy winces as she says the last part, noticing the way Eddie visibly twitches at her words.

“I wasn’t flirting with the bartender,” Eddie says through gritted teeth, trying to keep his cool. “I didn’t want to start anything so I just… let her flirt with me. But I wasn’t interested! I just wanted one more drink,” he mumbles, his head throbbing with stress and lack of sleep.

Nancy and Jonathan had come over to your place the day after the incident with Eddie, gently trying to coax some information out of you. You’d revealed that the two of you had had a few drinks and some bar food, danced a little bit, and then hooked up in the bathroom - sparing them the gory details of course. Then you told them you caught him flirting with a couple women at the bar after you’d left him to talk to Chrissy briefly. You intentionally left out the part where you, you know, professed your undying love for him in the middle of the night standing in the doorway to your apartment. You didn’t need anyone knowing that you said those three big words when he didn’t even reciprocate them, the thought of telling your friends far too embarrassing.

Nancy, being Nancy, felt like there was something you weren’t telling her, or at least wanted to hear the story from Eddie’s perspective, hoping to get some more info so that she could better understand how to be there for you. She gave it a few days, knowing Eddie wouldn’t like to be cornered right after the incident, and that’s how her and Jonathan found themselves on the couch in his small living room currently.

Eddie was also in no way planning on telling them about how you’d told him you loved him, and he’d walked away like a big fucking idiot. Although his friends meant well, and wanted to help, he didn’t need any extra inquiring minds knowing about this. He needed to focus on figuring out how to fix things with you before anyone else found out that the big ‘L’ word was involved.

“Eddie, please just be honest with us-”

“I am being fucking honest!” Eddie snaps, catching his friends off guard. “I swear, on my fucking life, I was not flirting with those women at the bar. I just didn’t have the energy to start an argument or something,” the expression on Eddie’s face is growing desperate as he talks. “I should’ve just walked away, I know, but I didn’t. But I swear I was not flirting with them. For once, I wasn’t trying to be an asshole.”

Jonathan gives Nancy a look, and she nods in understanding.

“We believe you, Eddie. Thank you for explaining,” she says softly, trying to meet his eyes.

Eddie doesn’t look at her, can’t bring himself to when he’s hiding the worst part of this whole thing from her.

“Is there… anything else that you need to tell us?” Jonathan asks, careful so as not to sound accusatory.

“No. After she thought she caught me flirting, that must’ve been when she called you guys. There’s nothing else to say that she didn’t already tell you.” Eddie sighs, his voice defeated.

They could tell their presence was no longer wanted in Eddie’s home, and so they made their exit.

“Thanks for talking to us, Eddie. We’re here if you need anything,” Nancy says as she closes the door behind her.

Nancy originally intended on ripping Eddie a new one when he admitted to flirting with the bartender a few days ago, but now she knows that’s clearly not the truth. It was all a misunderstanding, at least this time around. But the hurt behind Eddie’s eyes, the pain in his voice has her thoughts jumbled. Something deeper has to be going on, she just doesn’t know what.

“So, do you think we should tell Y/N that him flirting with the ladies at the bar was a misunderstanding?” Jonathan asks, breaking the silence in the car.

“I feel like she deserves to know. Not that it’ll change anything necessarily, it doesn’t have to, but she deserves to be free of that pain at least,” Nancy nods as if assuring herself, before taking the car in the direction of your place.

The rapping at your door breaks you out of your daze as you sit on your sofa watching Friends reruns. You debate even answering it, before deciding that you can’t wallow all alone 24/7. You open your door to reveal Nancy and Jonathan, inviting them in but grimacing at the disastrous state of your living room. They don’t even pay any mind to it, Jonathan sitting on the arm of the couch as Nancy stands in front of you.

“So, we just talked to Eddie,” she says, her eyes searching yours.

You swallow, hard. Did he tell them what you said? Do they know you love him?

“Oh? W-what did he say?” you ask, your voice coming out more shaky than you would’ve liked.

“He told us that he was never flirting with the bartender and the other girl. Insisted on it, actually. He said he just wanted one more drink while he waited for you, and didn’t feel like starting anything by turning them down,” she says gently. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad for him or anything, I just figured you deserve to have that weight off of your shoulders.”

You stay silent for a moment, taking in what she’s saying. Clearly Eddie was convincing when he told her all of this, because Nancy wouldn’t believe just anything. He wasn’t flirting with them, it was all a misunderstanding. You flipped out on him for nothing.

“Thank you for telling me,” you say finally. “Did he say anything else?”

“No, his story was no different than yours otherwise.”

You nod, standing in silence because you can’t think of a damn thing to say.

“We’re gonna get going, but I just wanted to give you that update,” Nancy says, sensing the awkwardness.

You thank them again and hug them both before shutting the door behind them. You sink back into the soft cushions of your couch, staring blankly at the TV screen. The whole reason you’d even admitted to Eddie that you loved him was because you blew up on him, you couldn’t take it anymore, the image of the bartender all over him bringing you to your breaking point. It was all a misunderstanding, and you spilled your guts to him because of it. Things could still be the way they were if you’d never opened your damn mouth. Clearly, Eddie doesn’t love you back. He hasn’t reached out to you in three days. There’s no way you can go back on your words now, and you’re confident you ruined everything with the only guy you want. It should make you sick, still, the fact that he left you and couldn’t even give you a response. You should be furious with him, you should be cursing his name at the sky, but all you can do is feel guilty for putting him in jail for something he never did. You lay down, letting out a scream into one of your fluffy throw pillows. If you had any tears left to cry, they’d surely be flowing now, but instead you just lie there, zoning out completely. The only thing left to do was try and get over Eddie Munson.

•

Almost two whole weeks since he last saw you and Eddie had been wallowing pathetically the whole time, making little to no improvements since Nancy and Jonathan’s visit to his home. He shouldn’t have gotten so defensive with you when you accused him of flirting with the ladies at the bar - how could he blame you for thinking that? It’s not like he was particularly loyal to you or considerate of your feelings any other time. Basically, he was throwing himself a gigantic pity party, and Steve had decided he’d had enough of his friend’s antics.

He found out a little about what had happened through Robin, who found out through Nancy. Word travels fast in the friend group, needless to say. Steve came to Eddie’s trailer, for the third time that week, still finding him withering away in bed and looking like a kicked puppy. Steve, from what he understood of the situation, couldn’t figure out why Eddie was so distraught. You’d finally gotten tired of his sleeping around, and you’d kicked him to the curb. If anything, you deserved to be upset because you clearly had some deeper feelings for Eddie. Eddie on the other hand? He was the asshole, always, what right did he have to be upset now?

“Ed, seriously man, you’ve gotta cut this out. What good is it gonna do for you if you let yourself shrivel up and die in your bed?” Steve had tried to be gentle the first time he came to see Eddie, but by now he was frustrated.

Eddie just groans, grabbing his pillow and covering his face with it. Steve rolls his eyes, marching over to the bed and snatching the pillow from him, like a parent snatching an item from a child.

“You’ve gotta talk to me, dude. What is going on here? You acted like an ass to Y/N half the time, no offense, and now you’re upset? I just don’t buy it, man.”

Eddie scoffs and gets up, pushing past Steve and heading into the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee. Steve follows directly behind him, hands on his hips as he corners Eddie in the kitchen. The older man glances over at his friend, acting completely disinterested as he fills his Garfield mug with the black liquid.

“You’re being impossible. I want to help you, and you won’t even talk to me. If you want to be depressed as shit forever, then fine! Be my guest,” Steve says, like it’s final, like he’s done trying.

Eddie knows him better than that. He pushes past Steve yet again, plopping himself down on the couch and taking an obnoxiously loud sip of his coffee. Steve’s fuming, watching in disbelief as Eddie goes along like he isn’t even there.

“You know, I can see why Y/N got sick of you.”

This gets a rise out of Eddie. He brings the mug away from his lips slowly, his breath catching in his throat.

“Yeah, I mean seriously, if you’re this stubborn all the time then it’s no wonder she got tired of you…” Steve goes on, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

Eddie grips his mug tightly, certain it’d shatter if he held it any harder. He grits his teeth, breathing hard out his nose.

“You just couldn’t keep it in your pants, had to flirt with that damn bartender…”

“I DIDNT. FLIRT. with the FUCKING. BARTENDER.” Eddie is seething now, about ready to jump across the room and grab Steve by the collar of his shirt. He’s at his breaking point now, letting everything spill out of him. “You wanna know what’s going on? You really have to know? She fucking loves me, man. She told me she loves me, okay? And - and - and… that fucking terrified me, okay? So I left her apartment. I didn’t say a word and I fucking left,” Eddie’s trembling now, the brunt of his anger giving way to sheer anguish.

Steve goes quiet, his eyes widening. He opens and closes his mouth, scrambling to find words.

“Eddie, you just left her?” Steve asks, really not trying to rub salt in the wound, but what the fuck.

“I really don’t need you to lecture me on how wrong that was-”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That’s not what I’m trying to do. I just-” Steve pauses, looking at his disheveled friend where he sits on the couch. “Do you love her?”

Eddie is silent for a minute, his hands clasped together and brought up to his mouth, elbows resting on his knees.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I do,” his voice is noticeably shaky, and for the first time since Steve got here, Eddie’s sad brown eyes meet his.

Steve comes to sit down next to Eddie, the couch cushions dipping with his weight.

“I think you need to tell her, man.”

“How? How do I even start? She thinks I ditched her at The Hideaway to flirt with other women, she probably thinks I fucking hate her considering I left without a word after she-”

Steve puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, calming him down from the way his body has started to shake. Eddie looks at him, eyes glassy and confused.

“This is Y/N we’re talking about. I don’t think she could ever hate you. You need to tell her how you feel, Eddie.”

Eddie knows he’s right. Deep down, he knows. But facing you and admitting his feelings is the scariest part. He doesn’t like to be vulnerable, doesn’t like the way it feels to put himself so fully out there, and he honestly envies you for being able to spit the words at him so easily. Eddie has to tell you, he just needs to figure out how.

•

You stood in front of the mirror in your bedroom, holding up different outfits as you debated which you liked the best. Robin and Nancy scrunched their noses at one particular dress you held up.

“Too many ruffles,” Nancy blurts.

“You’d look kind of like a babydoll…” Robin muses, tilting her head as she looks at the short blue garment.

You groan, throwing all the hangers of clothes onto your floor.

“Guys, I have to wear something tonight and we’ve gone through, like, half of my wardrobe!” you hold your hands out at your sides, your voice incredibly whiny as you plead with your friends.

“Okay, okay, let me take a look,” Nancy says, getting up and searching through your ransacked closet.

You were going on a date tonight. Nancy had eventually squeezed the confession out of you that you loved Eddie, but you still hadn’t informed her that you actually told him that and that he left. It had now been two weeks since you’d spoken to Eddie and she kept telling you you needed to actively try and forget him. Because, big surprise, sitting alone in your apartment all day eating pints of ice cream clearly wasn’t helping - much to your dismay. So she took it upon herself to help and set you up on a date with a friend of Jonathan’s.

According to his Instagram profile, he was cute, and he seemed like a nice guy based on everything Nancy told you. He went by Argyle, which, a little weird, but hey - you just told your fuck buddy you loved him and he walked out so… you’re not really in a position to judge anyone for anything.

“Ooh! What about this?” Nancy holds up a hanger with a tight black faux-leather skirt and another with a shimmery silver top.

“Nance - they’re going to get ice cream, not to a strip club,” Robin chides, laying on your bed and flipping through a magazine.

“Okay, fine, but I’m borrowing this skirt,” she says, meeting your eyes to get your approval.

You roll your eyes, scrutinizing one strand of hair that won’t do what you want it to do as Nancy continues looking through your clothes.

“Okay! I’ve got it. This is casual, but not so casual that it says you don’t care,” she eyes her selections as she waits for you and Robin to weigh in.

She’s holding a pair of light wash denim shorts, embroidered with little daisies, and a baby pink top with ruched sleeves.

Robin bites her lip excitedly, nodding eagerly at you.

“Not my taste, but totally, absolutely, one hundred perfect for you. Put it on, put it on!” she urges.

You laugh, obliging and changing into the clothes Nancy picked. She has a good eye, you had to admit. The outfit was perfect, cute and expressed that you’d put effort into your appearance, but not overdoing it. As you look at yourself in your mirror, you can’t help but picture Eddie’s face if he saw you in that outfit. His arm snaking around your waist to pull you close. Your fingers trail down to the hem of the shorts, toying with a loose string.

“Hey, earth to Y/N?” Robin waves her hand, snagging your attention. “You still with us? Argyle’s definitely gonna need you alive for the date tonight,” she says lightheartedly, giving you a lopsided smile.

Your lips had fallen into an involuntary frown, and of course the girls catch it immediately.

“Don’t think about him, hun,” Nancy places a hand on your arm, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Argyle’s a great guy, and you’re gonna have fun tonight!”

“Yeah, no you’re right. I’m sorry. I want to give him a chance, I’m excited,” you smile, trying your best to shove the curly brunette metal head out of your mind.

It’s not that you weren’t excited for the date, you really were. Maybe a change of scenery and a new person were exactly the things you needed. But you still felt horrible about setting everything on fire with Eddie, leaving you to sift through the ashes now that the damage was done. And you still love him. The thought wafts through your mind like a bad stench through your nose, and you shake your head as if to rid your brain of it. Screw Eddie, you try and tell yourself. Who needs him anyway?

Just as Nancy finishes applying a healthy amount of makeup to your face, there’s a knock at your door. Like an absolute gentleman, Argyle arrives right on time. You feel wings erupt in your stomach, birds taking flight as your nerves kick in.

Robin notices you go rigid in her gaze.

“You’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna have a great time, you got this, kid,” she beams at you, giving you an affirming nod.

You try your best to give a confident smile back, nodding once in confirmation that you do, in fact, have this. The girls shuffle you out of your room and towards the door, practically shoving you to go answer it. Your straighten yourself, taking one last deep breath before swinging the door open.

“Well, good evening, ladies,” Argyle says, flashing his shiny white teeth as he smiles at you and your friends who stand modestly behind you.

“You must be Y/N. I’m Argyle, it’s so nice to meet you,” he keeps the smile on his face, reaching a hand out to shake yours.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, too,” you smile back, taking his hand firmly as you shake it.

“Mind if I steal her away, girls?” he jokes, directing the question at Robin and Nancy.

“Nope! Not at allllllll,” Robin draws out the last syllable, giving you a flirtatious wave.

“She’s all yours! Have fun you two,” Nancy smiles.

They give you a thumbs up when you take one last glance over your shoulder, Argyle leading the way out the door. And so it begins.

•

Tonight is the night. Tonight is the night Eddie is going to fix shit with you, or at least give an honest attempt. The thought of going through with his plan made him want to genuinely hurl, but he swallowed the bile that rose to his throat and was determined to right this wrong. After letting the truth spill to Steve, the only thing consuming his thoughts has been telling you about how he feels. The entirety of the past night was spent tossing and turning in his bed, fleeting dreams of you rejecting him flashing through his subconscious. His plan, as it currently stands, is as follows: he’s going to swing by the flower shop to get you a beautiful bouquet, and then head over to the local ice cream place to get you your favorite milkshake. Then he plans to show up at your door with his offerings, and apologize profusely. Like, he’s talking begging-on-his-knees, praying to the gods above, apologize. He stomach lurches as he mentally walks through the plan again, getting himself looking presentable for the evening ahead. He knows very, very well that there’s a huge chance this doesn’t go well for him. He knows you might just go ahead and rip the damn milkshake out of his clammy palms and throw it right back in his face, or maybe even throw a punch or two - hell, he deserves it. He’s not asking for forgiveness, he’s not asking for you to welcome him back in with open arms. He just knows that he won’t be able to rest well until he’s told you the truth, he has to apologize and be honest with you, whether you accept him back in or not.

Eddie gives himself a once, twice, three times over in the mirror, although his current attire isn’t much different from his usual. He’s still in his ripped black jeans, his surprisingly white Reeboks, and all of his chains and rings. Instead, though, he’s traded his usual band tee or denim vest with a black button-down shirt. He takes a deep breath, trying desperately to calm his nerves. He’d already smoked, hoping the high would ease his worries, to no avail. He’s not used to being nervous like this, not used to second-guessing his appearance or feeling his palms grow sweaty. He’s used to women throwing themselves at him, he’s used to one-night stands with no big feelings attached, he’s used to being balls deep inside someone and then never speaking a word to them again. He loves you. The thought plays over and over in his mind. He grabs his phone and his wallet and his keys before heading out the door, shuffling into his car and heading out on his mission.

•

The drive to the ice cream place wasn’t nearly as awkward as you thought it’d be, finding a lot to talk about with Argyle. He’s friendly and outgoing, never forcing a conversation but also never leaving room for the silences to be awkward. You don’t feel like you have to act a certain way to impress him, he’s just happy to be with you. It’s refreshing, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find your mind wandering elsewhere. It was already proving hard to keep Eddie out of your thoughts - Argyle would make a reference to something Eddie liked, the air freshener in Argyle’s car is the same one as in Eddie’s, so on and so forth. It’s like your brain was purposely torturing you, distracting you from having a good time. Eddie probably wasn’t thinking about you, so why did you have to be plagued with near constant thoughts of him?

“Hey, are you okay?” Argyle’s smooth voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to zone out. I’m fine,” you give him a reassuring smile, and he looks at you for only a moment before seeming to accept your response.

“Well, anyway, I’ve never had the ice cream here but Jonathan said it’s the best. You’ll have to give me some recommendations,” he grins as he pulls his car into the parking lot, one hand on the wheel as the other taps on the crevice of the open window.

“Will do,” you smile. “Though I have to warn you, I always get the same damn thing,” you laugh, and he laughs along with you.

You both step out of the car, the sweet scent of waffle cones and vanilla milkshakes filling your nose. Argyle opens the door and a bell chimes, signaling your entrance as he holds the door for you. The air conditioning is on full blast, hitting your skin and making goosebumps prick up. You cross your arms instinctively, rubbing the skin for some warmth as you eye the menu, even though you never stray from your tried and true favorite. Argyle notices your slight shivering, immediately slipping his hoodie off and holding it out to you.

You start to decline politely before he waves you off.

“You’re only gonna get colder once you start eating your ice cream. I insist, take it,” you blush a little as you take the jacket, slipping it over your shoulders and leaving the zipper undone.

It’s big on you, Argyle having a height advantage, so you bunch up the sleeves. Instantly, your brain goes to a memory of you at an ice skating rink with Eddie and the rest of the group. You’d forgotten your jacket at home, and Eddie had offered you his within milliseconds of you starting to shiver. It was one of few times where Eddie made any sort of affection towards you known to others, rather than keeping it a raunchy secret, and you’d felt on top of the world parading around in his sweatshirt. Of course, that night had ended no differently than the others, Eddie fucking you into his mattress and taking you home afterwards, leaving you feeling empty.

You try to replace the thoughts of Eddie with thoughts of your current date, try to convince yourself that wearing Argyle’s hoodie feels just as good as wearing Eddie’s, but it doesn’t, and you can’t. You put as much focus as you can onto what Argyle’s saying, put on a happy face as you give him your flavor recommendations, but a man that’s not here is tugging at your heart strings all the while. You order at the counter, your usual birthday cake milkshake, letting Argyle decide a moment longer. You actually wince when he orders two scoops of butterscotch ice cream, the exact same thing Eddie would order the few times you’d come here with all of your friends. You feel like the world is playing a sick joke on you, refusing to let you let go of Eddie. You feel like you’re not even in your body when you grab a hold of the cold cup that your frozen dessert is in, only coming back to reality when Argyle asks where you want to sit.

You choose a booth by the window, the electric glow of the ‘Open’ sign flickering onto the table through the glass pane. Argyle takes a bite of his ice cream, and you give him your best effort in conversation.

“Well, what do you think?” you smile at him, forcing it a little too much maybe.

“I think I could drop dead right now this is so good,” he smiles right back, licking his spoon clean of another mouthful. “How’s yours?”

“Even better considering I didn’t have to pay for it,” you take a sip of your shake to punctuate your sentence. “Thank you, again.”

“Don’t have to thank me, I’m more than happy to pay for a girl as pretty as you,” he gives you another little grin, nothing but kindness behind his eyes.

You smile back, but you’re cursing inside your head. You have a sweet guy sitting in front of you, genuinely trying to get to know you and have a nice date, and you can’t stop thinking about someone else. There’s nothing wrong with Argyle, and you’re trying your very best to will yourself to fall in love with him or something when the door chime breaks you from your thoughts.

You look up at the door instinctively, and you almost choke on your ice cream at what you see. Eddie walks in through the door, looking gorgeous as ever, because of fucking course this would happen right now. You go rigid when he looks your direction and meets your eyes, and your face is instantly flushed with heat. You suddenly feel suffocated in Argyle’s hoodie, your stomach churning as you stare into those all-too-familiar brown eyes. You manage to tear your gaze away before he does, not wanting Argyle to get suspicious and try to discover what you’re staring at. You give yourself a mental kick, refusing to allow yourself to crumble in Eddie’s presence. Don’t let him see you sad, show him you’re fine without him. You reach across the table and brush your fingers on Argyle’s arm, laughing maybe a little too loud at something he says. You feel bad using him as revenge in this moment, but lucky for you, you don’t have to do it for very long. Eddie doesn’t order a thing, just turns on his heel and leaves.

Eddie feels like he can’t breathe when he gets back into his car, sitting in the parking lot with his heart threatening to shatter beneath his ribcage. You’re on a date. He was going to try and fix things, going to tell you he loves you, and you’re on a date. Of course he noticed the garment keeping you warm, far too big to be your jacket. You’re wearing this other guy’s jacket, so the date must be going well. He feels the bile rise in his throat at the thought of you in another guy’s clothes, the thought of another guy taking you home and kissing you and holding you and treating you the way you deserved - the way he never treated you. The worst part of it all is that Eddie knows he deserves this. He doesn’t deserve to get the happy ending, he burned this whole thing to the ground and he’s left searching for remnants of life in the wake of the fire. He pulls out of the parking lot, no destination in mind anymore. The flowers he got for you sit mockingly in his passenger seat, their sweet scent filling his nose as if to laugh at him. What the fuck does he do now?

•

After seeing Eddie at the ice cream place, you couldn’t get your head back on straight. You ended up telling Argyle you had a killer of a headache, and without hesitation he brought you home. Guilt tugged at your feet as you trudged up your stairs with him, tugged at your heart when he asked if there was anything he could do for you before he left. The poor, sweet guy didn’t even question it, showed no indication of him doubting your excuse. You knew you’d get an earful from Robin and Nance if they got wind of this. You’d promised Argyle you’d be okay and told him he was fine to leave, thanking him for the lovely date. You hated yourself for the way you couldn’t like him, the way every inch of your body and mind was stuck on Eddie. Nothing about Argyle was bad, and you lay cursing yourself on your mattress in your room. You eventually decide to change into something more comfortable, shed any tangible reminders of the date you ended too soon. You crawl under your covers in sweatpants and your coziest sweatshirt, pulling the blankets up to your face as frustrated tears burn your cheeks. Anger bubbles up inside of you, and takes over any other emotion you’d been feeling.

You’re angry that you can’t stop thinking about Eddie. Angry that you had to see Eddie tonight. Angry that you went on a date with a very nice guy and couldn’t get into it because of Eddie. Angry that Eddie left without a word when you told him you loved him. Angry that you let him treat you so poorly because you just can’t get enough of him. Cotton sweater sleeves are soaked with tears as you let the feeling flow from you, balling your hands up into fists and releasing them. Entirely unsure of what to do next, or how to get over this.

•

Eddie went home for all of an hour before realizing he couldn’t just sit around in silence and do nothing. Not now that he’d already had his plan literally in motion, he couldn’t stop. Even if you didn’t love him anymore, even if you wanted nothing to do with him, even if you wanted to throw the flowers back in his face and throw a punch or two, he had to open up to you. He gets in his car, hands shaking and stomach in knots as he prepares himself. For all he knows, your date could be back at your place with you. Or maybe you aren’t even home yet. But he has to try, has to get his feelings out in the open, at least so you know - even if you don’t want to be with him. It feels like every stoplight on his drive is mocking him, glowing red for seemingly agonizing amounts of time. The more time he has to think, the more sick to his stomach he feels. When he finally arrives in the parking lot of your place, he just sits for a moment. Taking shaky breaths, his stomach somersaults in anxious anticipation. One ringed hand reaches out for the beautiful bouquet of flowers beside him, picking them up by the crinkly paper they’re encased in before he opens his car door and shuts off the engine. Every stomp of his shoes on the stairs makes his heart pound faster, coming closer and closer to a confession bigger than any he’s ever given before. He stands in front of your door, begging silently for you to simply answer, and finally, he raises a fist to the wood to alert you.

The knocking startles you out of your slew of emotions, and you groan as you heave yourself out of bed. You’re fully expecting it to be Nancy or Robin at the door, or both of them, ready to interrogate you on why you cut your date short. You swing the door wide, mouth open and fully ready to defend yourself to the girls. Instead, you’re met with that curly frizzy hair and those round brown eyes that you know too well. Eddie stands like a deer in headlights, as if he wasn’t the one who knocked on your door, holding a massive bouquet of flowers in one hand. You let out an incredulous laugh, a no-fucking-way-are-you-here-right-now laugh. You go to slam the door right in his stupid beautiful face when he holds an arm out, wrenching it open.

“Wait. Please,” his voice chokes up as he says it.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Eddie? Saw me on a date with someone else and had to come assert your dominance or something?” you scoff, crossing your arms as if to protect yourself from more emotional hurt.

“No, I…. is your date still here?”

“What if he is, Eddie? Can’t wrap your head around the fact that another guy wanted to go out with me?” you snap.

“No no, I just… I don’t wanna do this if he’s here,” his voice is desperate, rushing to get the words out.

“He’s not here. And do what, exactly? String me along again just to leave me stranded in the end?” the words hurt you as you say them, a part of your heart wanting to just run to him and never let him go, and the other part wanting to run from him.

“I need to tell you how sorry I am. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. I was an asshole, a horrible person to you, and you never deserved it,” his eyes flicker down to his feet before tentatively meeting yours again.

“Oh, my knight in shining armor, arriving at my door to apologize and I’m supposed to just fall at your feet, huh?” you shift your weight, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No! No, I don’t expect anything from you. But I can’t run from my feelings anymore.”

“Feelings?” you furrow your brows, your chest tightening.

Eddie is silent for a moment, fingers nervously fidgeting with the paper surrounding the bright green stems and vibrant petals. You roll your eyes, about to shut the door once again when he speaks up.

“I love you!” he blurts, his eyes frantic as they search yours.

“What?”

“I love you. I love you so fucking much, Y/N. I’ve known you were special since I met you, you’re different than anyone else I’ve ever met. I was too much of a fucking coward to tell you how much I liked you earlier because… because I was scared of getting hurt. And all I did was hurt you in the process, and I’m so sorry.”

You’re dumbfounded, your mouth hanging open slightly as you struggle for words.

“You didn’t say a word to me, Eddie,” your voice comes out quiet, pained. “You left without a single fucking word,” you hiss.

“I know I did. And it was the worst mistake of my entire life. I panicked, I didn’t know what to do - and that’s not an excuse - but I’m so, so sorry.”

You can see the hurt in his eyes, the fear encompassing espresso brown. He’s not joking around, he’s not playing with you this time.

“And you don’t have to say anything else. If you don’t love me anymore, if you don’t want to be with me or see me ever again, I get it. Say the word and I will walk away and never show my face to you again. I was a jerk, and I don’t deserve you. But I swear to you, I will never - never - hurt you again if you let me stay. I’m sorry it took me so long to say how I feel,” Eddie’s voice is breaking, and you can tell how much effort it’s taking him to keep himself together.

You snap, then. Your love for Eddie that you’ve been trying to shove down for weeks, finally claws it’s way out. No more forcing it back. No more hiding. Your feet are moving before you can process it. You throw yourself at him, taking the flowers and tossing them to the floor, wrapping your arms around him and feeling him hold you.

“I hate you so fucking much, Eddie Munson,” you smile through your wobbly voice, a new kind of tears springing in your eyes.

And Eddie laughs, his eyes also watery, because he knows you don’t mean it.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too.”

“Be mine forever, please,” he murmurs, his eyes fluttering shut as his lips ghost over yours.

“It would be the honor of a lifetime,” you say.

He presses his forehead to yours, letting you lead when you lean in to kiss him. It feels like fireworks go off above your heads, your lips colliding in a way that finally won’t lead to a quick fuck on someone else’s mattress. No, this time you kiss him and it feels real. You feel secure, no longer worrying that the floor will fall out beneath your feet. His hands hold your face, thumbs brushing soft strokes along the apples of your cheeks. You cling to him like he’s your lifeline, kissing him like you never have before. Pouring your love into him, filling his cup because he’s finally allowing you to.

“Wait,” you say suddenly, pulling back. Eddie’s stomach drops, worried you’ve changed your mind. “I owe you an apology too,” you say.

He gives you a questioning look.

“I know you weren’t flirting with those women at The Hideaway the night we went out… Nancy told me it was a misunderstanding… and it was wrong of me to accuse you.”

“Sweetheart… you had every right to assume. I wasn’t exactly the kindest to you…” Eddie frowns.

“Even so, you weren’t flirting and you still deserve some grace. I’m sorry, Eddie. I blew this whole thing up in your face over something you didn’t actually do,” your voice is remorseful, and Eddie tilts your chin up with his index finger.

“I forgive you, always. I was never upset with you for that,” he promises, and his heart aches. The sweetest thing standing before him, apologizing when there was no need to.

You kiss him again, pulling him with you as you shuffle backwards into your apartment. He kicks the door shut, holding you to his chest as he stands against it. Your fingers clutch the collar of his shirt, mouth moving against his with fervor, like this is your last chance to kiss him. Eddie gasps in surprise when you tug him even closer to you, his large palms spanning across your back and holding you snug to his body. Tongues find their way into each other’s mouths, soft like velvet as they lick and explore. You find yourself grinding your hips into his, your body desperate to have him in a way like never before.

“Sweetheart, sweets,” Eddie pushes out between kisses, finally holding you back from attacking his mouth once more. “This doesn’t have to go any further… if you don’t want it to. I don’t want you to think that’s the reason I’m here,” Eddie says, and his tone is suddenly sad. You know the guilt is still eating at him, and will probably continue to eat at him no matter how much you reassure him going forward.

“I don’t think that’s why you’re here,” you reply, cupping a hand to the side of his face and looking intensely into his eyes, reassuring him. “But I’d be a dirty fucking liar if I said I haven’t missed your cock lately,” your voice drops lower, leaning up to his ear to murmur the words into it.

Your breath tickles his neck and he shudders, his cock stiffening in his jeans.

“Shit, baby,” he breathes, diving back down to your mouth for another heated kiss.

You lead him to your bedroom, somehow managing to make it safely despite the fact that your lips might as well be velcro’d to each other. Your hands roam his body like it’s the first time, butterflies fluttering madly in your stomach. Eddie’s hands are gentle on you, touching you in a new way. Nothing is rushed or hasty, instead Eddie takes his time as his hands find their way up your sweatshirt. You shiver when his fingertips graze your hips and start to glide up your back, his mouth devouring yours all the while. He groans into your mouth when you reach a hand down to palm him through the denim of his pants, making you pull back to smirk at him.

“Getting worked up for me, Munson?” you tease, silently reveling in the way he’s letting himself be more receptive to you.

“You have no idea, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, his hands steady as he holds you.

You smile, leaning back in to kiss him with a clash of teeth. Eddie pushes you backwards gently, taking slight control as he encourages you down onto your bed. You lie back on your mattress, spreading your legs open for him to slot himself between. He climbs on top of you, hovering over you, dark curls falling in your face and tickling your skin. Your phone rings then, breaking you both out of the moment. The screen lights up with Nancy’s name, and you can’t help but laugh. Texts from Robin pop up right after, and Eddie raises a brow at you.

“I’ll debrief them later,” you smirk at him, shoving your phone away and holding his face in your hands.

“I’m so incredibly in love with you,” he says, his eyes pools of melted chocolate, sickeningly sweet with adoration as he gazes at you.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” you breathe out a little laugh, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

“I never thought I’d feel this way about anyone… never thought I’d let myself,” Eddie frowns slightly, relaxing when you grip his face in your hands.

“Thank you for letting me be the first,” you give him a soft smile, eyes lighting up when he blushes.

You pull his mouth back to yours, needy hands grabbing at the buttons on his shirt in a hint for him to remove it. He obliges instantly, unbuttoning it and sipping it off before being discarded onto your floor. You take a moment just to look at him, your eyes raking over his shirtless form. During your past hookups you never felt like you had the time to admire him, half the time you were too embarrassed to even try, for fear that he’d mock you for it. Now it’s different. You let your eyes and hands wander up and down pale skin, tracing the ink lines etched into various places. You can feel him growing harder in his pants when your fingers ghost over his crotch, smiling into the kiss when Eddie lets out a heavy breath.

“Need to get some of these clothes off you, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your mouth, pawing at the hem of your thick sweatshirt.

You help him pull it off of you, exposing your tits which lay perfectly on your chest, nipples perking up from the chill of your air conditioning. It’s his turn to admire you now, his hands cupping the soft skin of your breasts as he looks at you like you’re the greatest thing he’s ever seen.

“You’re s’fuckin perfect,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to your neck. “‘M so lucky,” a kiss to your collarbone, “the luckiest guy in the world,” his lips trail down to your tits before he wraps them around one of your peaked nipples.

His tongue kitten licks the sensitive little bundle, getting you breathless as his mouth switches over to the other one. One hand finds its way beneath the waistband of your pants, fingers curling over your mound still concealed by the thin fabric of your panties. There’s a wet patch already forming there, and you know he can feel it. Your cheeks flush when his fingers circle the wetness and he gasps a little, giving you a devilish smirk.

“Oh? What’s this?” he teases, leaning down to kiss your lips and then trailing his mouth to your jawline.

“Need you,” you whine, too desperate for him to retaliate against his taunting.

“You have me, sweet girl. For as long as you want me,” he brushes a strand of hair out of your face, leaning down once more to kiss you all over.

His lips move over the swell of your breasts, down to your bellybutton, finally stopping right above the fabric of your sweatpants. Big brown doe eyes look up at you, waiting for permission. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding at him as you feel yourself tremble slightly with anticipation. He hooks his fingers into the cozy fabric, tugging the pants down your legs before tossing them to the floor. His mouth kisses over your underwear, tongue pressing flat against your folds, causing you to moan at the heat you feel at your core.

“Ed-dieeeeee,” you choke out between a gasp, reaching a hand down in an attempt to take your panties off.

“So impatient, aren’t we?” he purrs, admiring the wet spot he contributed to on your underwear before pulling them off and letting them mingle with the rest of your discarded garments.

He buries his face in your cunt almost instantly, his plush lips so soft against your folds as he presses kisses to them. He tongue is gentle when it first licks a stripe up through your wetness, and you hiss at the contact. You missed his mouth on you, missed his hands roaming your body. It feels so good to know he’s not going anywhere this time. Eddie wastes no time getting to work, his tongue dipping inside of you before playing with your clit, shaggy curls tickling your inner thighs as his head moves. His name falls from your lips like a mantra as he devours you, licking and sucking on you like you’re his last meal. He ruts his hips down into your mattress, erection straining in his jeans. You notice the movement and halt him immediately, almost losing your breath when he looks up at you with sparkling eyes, chin glistening with your slick.

“Why don’t you take those jeans off, handsome?” you encourage, reaching down to run a hand through his wild hair.

His fingers undo his belt buckle with ease, it’s the handcuff one that you always struggled to maneuver. Black denim joins the pile on your floor, and you notice the tented fabric of his boxers instantly.

“Poor baby,” you coo, “look how worked up you are for me,” your gentle fingers stroke his shaft through the fabric, earning a deep groan from him.

“Feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” he rasps, and you can tell how desperate he is for more contact.

“Why don’t you fuck me, then?” you ask, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes.

Eddie doesn’t need to be asked twice, shoving his boxers down his legs and off entirely. His cock springs free, and he’s harder than you think you’ve ever seen him. You can see the veins protruding from the shaft, the head a flustered red with pearlescent pre-cum just starting to drip out. A patch of dark curls rests at the base of his cock, enticing you, his heavy balls hanging low beneath. You nearly whimper at the sight, and he watches you as you take in every inch of him. He’s always loved the way you love his cock, though it’s never felt quite like it does now. He knows he’s presenting himself to you in a new way, and you’re admiring him in a new way. All he wants now is to bury himself inside you, feeling every single inch of your tight pussy as it swallows him whole.

“You ready for me, baby?” he questions, leaning down and hovering mere centimeters from your lips.

“Mhm, please,” you whine, keening up to press your lips to his in quick kisses, a tiny string of saliva connecting the two of you.

One of Eddie’s hands grabs the base of his cock, rubbing it up and down through your wet folds. You arch your back instinctively, gasping at the sensation. Eddie chuckles, low and deep, pressing kisses to your jawline and traveling down to your neck. Without much warning he slips his cock into you, the head stretching you as it paves the way for the rest of him. You let out a pornographic moan, holding nothing back from him this time around. You want him to know how good he makes you feel, how he sets every inch of you on fire in the most remarkable way. He continues to stretch you open for him, groaning at how easily you’re taking him.

“Shit, sweet girl, you’re just suckin’ me right in,” Eddie praises, his forehead dropping to rest on top of yours.

You can’t form words in response, the air being punched from your lungs when he sinks the last inch of him in. You’re so incredibly full of him, you swear you can feel him in every inch of your body. Your hands wrap around his back, clinging to the backs of his shoulders, hooking yourself to him. You want him closer than ever, need him all to yourself, and the way he brushes his nose against yours lets you know that he’s not going anywhere. He starts to slowly move, hips rocking as he thrusts gently. Even with his subtle movements, the sounds coming from your cunt are obscene, and all he can do is curse under his breath. You whimper beneath him, clinging ever tighter to his soft skin.

“What is it, baby?” he asks, stroking your cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“A little harder, Eddie, please?” you ask, round eyes looking up at him.

“Okay, sweetheart. But I don’t wanna just fuck you tonight,” he says, pausing to kiss you. “I wanna make love to you, the way I should’ve been for months now,” he admits, his cheeks flushing pink at his vulnerability.

“I love you so fucking much,” you whisper against his lips, “make love to me then, Eddie.”

And that he does. He gives it to you a little harder, knowing it’ll drive you crazy if he keeps his movements too slow. But his strokes aren’t rushed, he’s not in a race to cum, he’s just taking his time with you. He rolls his hips into you, dragging out each thrust and letting you feel every vein and ridge in his cock as he stretches you. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, hair sprawled across your pillow, eyes glassy as you grow dumb on his thick length. Your lips brush, oftentimes frozen slack-jawed as you moan into each others’ mouths. Eddie devours every sweet sound you make for him, pinching his eyes shut as he picks up his pace a little. His balls slap against you as he delivers each thrust, filling you to the brim before pulling back out. His movements are sensual, his hands kneading your breasts or gripping your hips as he fucks into you. He kisses all over your face, unspoken ‘I love yous’ communicated by the affection.

You’re filled with so many emotions as you let him unravel you, your eyes welling up with tears. Having Eddie to yourself feels better than you could’ve imagined, every single snap of his hips into yours reminding you that this time, everything is different. He’s soaking you in like you’re uncharted territory waiting to be discovered, caressing every curve and dip of your body. You babble nonsense beneath him, his name falling from your lips over and over. Your lips are wobbly, eyes watery as you’re overwhelmed with adoration for him. Eddie’s quick to kiss your tears away, whispering his affections for you between each press of his soft lips.

“My favorite girl,” he mumbles into your skin.

The sentiment he’d given you so many times before, the one you always hoped he meant, always pining to be his most important girl. It sounds sweeter coming out of his mouth now, no doubt in your mind that he’s speaking the truth.

“‘M so close, Eddie,” you pant. “Gonna cum. Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop,” your eyes roll back in your head as Eddie keeps a steady pace.

The tip of his cock hits just where you need it to, setting your insides ablaze. Eddie’s close, too, you can tell in the way his breathing has grown staggered.

“I’m gonna cum too, baby. Want it inside?”

“Yes,” you cry out, “please.”

Eddie rocks into you a few more times before you’re cumming around him, walls gripping him so tight, fluttering against his cock and giving him the friction he so desperately needs. You’ve got a death grip on him as he spills his load inside of you, his hips slowing as every drop fills you. He finally stills once every drop has left him, taking heavy breaths as he grounds himself. Your tits are pressed against his chest, feeling him so impossibly close to you, sweat coating your skin as well as his.

Chocolate brown eyes meet yours as you come out of your euphoric haze, Eddie giving you a lovesick grin. You giggle as you smile back at him, still catching your breath.

“That was amazing. You’re amazing,” Eddie says, letting out an airy little laugh.

“Feels so good to love you,” you reply, making him blush yet again.

He pulls out of you slowly, making you wince slightly. He goes into your bathroom without a word, grabbing a clean towel and getting it slightly damp with warm water. He returns to clean you up, wiping your sensitive skin oh so gently, leaving kisses on your inner thighs in the towel’s wake. You sigh contentedly, curling up under your blankets while Eddie goes to clean himself up. He makes himself comfortable in bed beside you once he returns, silently staring at you once more with those gorgeous eyes, saying so much without even opening his mouth. He pulls you closer to him, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your back.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “For everything.”

You don’t say anything in response, words aren’t necessary to convey how you feel. The way you curl closer into him, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing, says everything Eddie needs to hear. You fall asleep not long after, the sound of Eddie’s breathing and the feeling of his strong arms around you soothing you into a slumber.

The next morning you wake to sunlight peeking through your curtains, casting a soft orange glow on your entire room. You rub your eyes, letting them focus as you look around your room. Your gaze lands on the discarded clothes on your floor before trailing upwards, over the sleeping form beside you concealed by your comforter, until it finally lands on Eddie’s face snuggled into your pillow. Frizzy curls sprawled over the pillowcase, long eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he continues to sleep peacefully. You smile to yourself, your heart thumping in your chest as you hear him snoring softly. After the mess of the last couple of months, your aching heart and puffy eyes over the last couple weeks, the dust is finally settling. Everything was set on fire, and you’re realizing now that flames don’t always leave decay and destruction in their wake. Sometimes, they pave the way for new growth, blossoming beginnings. You and Eddie lie here together now, as the smoke leaves the air and the sun rises, bathed in the afterglow.

taglist: @paleidiot @ali-r3n @edsmunsonsgirl @edsforehead @bambi-horror @emma77645 @sidthedollface2 @figmentofquinn @girlwiththerubyslippers @myblindthirdeye-blog @aysheashea @suppeople @peaches-roses-sins @hideoutside @nope-thanks @squidscottjeans @hellfire--cult @chrissymjstan @hargrovesswifee @alissabckr @munsonzgf @a1ex-ba1ex @parmawiolets @zaddyskye69 @siriuslysmoking

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut

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deanbrainrotwritings · 4 months

Text

— DESIRE (THE WANTON SONG)

SUMMARY : dean looks delicious in a suit, that’s it.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : castiel, jack kline

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), fluff, p in v, unprotected sex (21 years of prison), car sex, smut, teasing, funnies (but maybe that’s the coffee talking)

WORD COUNT : 2.8k

A/N : led zeppelin song title. y’all… YALL! Dean’s so hot and I actually had coffee and so that’s why I’m… you know, imagine that this is really, really quickly spoken in your head :D XXXXXX

Was anyone really going to lie or hide the truth about how absolutely ravishing Dean looked in suits?

One thing Y/n knew was that she wouldn't be making that mistake. The only problem with that was that Cas and Jack decided to join them while Sam stayed at the Bunker recovering from a stomach bug with Eileen at his side.

Should she feel bad for how turned on she was?

He was just… existing.

Still, he must know what he’s doing. Placing his hand on her thigh, mindlessly brushing his fingers along the inside as he drove. And he sang. He was singing, playfully. Making her laugh.

And every time she laughed, he’d squeeze her thigh, and grin at her boyishly. She’d bite her lip, unable to resist his happiness. When they stopped at a red light or a stop sign, he’d lean over, and kiss her cheek, then he’d murmur something sweet into her ear. Her heart would flutter, her breath would hitch, and then he'd press one soft kiss to her lips.

If Cas and Jack hadn’t been in the back seat, she would have grabbed Dean by his tie and pulled him on top of her. That would be dangerous—considering that he’s driving—but, hey, it’s just a daydream.

She just wanted him, everywhere, like… all over her body. His lips and his hands. His body above hers and his skin moving against hers. God… it was worse than normal, her desire for him.

He was just so… irresistible. Not just because of how insanely attractive he is. It’s a combination of everything that makes him who he is. Adorable. Kind. Selfless. Brave. Funny. Smart. The list was endless, but every little thing was there, blooming deep in her heart, weaved intricately into her soul, growing hot like a star. At the end of it all, at the farthest edge of everything that she was, it was love built entirely of Dean.

Her mind was elsewhere. She started to lag behind as they walked into the police station and Dean weaved his fingers through hers to keep her in pace with him. She subtly checked Dean out from behind, broad shoulders, firm ass, hot… all over. She had to resist slapping his ass and grinned to herself at the thought.

Cas went ahead and started to talk to one of the detectives on the case while Jack looked around aimlessly. Dean pulled her hand to stop her from joining the angel and nephilim. He leaned forward, his nose brushing against her cheek, his lips ghosting over her earlobe, warm breath hitting her neck.

“You okay?” He asked, pulling away slightly, and looked into her eyes. He held her jaw tenderly and his thumb brushed along her bottom lip, causing her to inhale sharply. A spark from his hand on her mouth made heat rise up her face, but she nodded anyway. “You sure? You’ve been quiet, spacey,” he murmured, leaning forward to brush his lips against her.

“I’m okay,” she whispered against his mouth. Dean placed a chaste kiss on her lips and kissed her cheek afterwards.

“Okay,” he conceded hesitantly, circling his arm around her waist. Dean lead the way to where Cas and Jack were waiting patiently, having quiet conversation with each other. Jack looked confused at whatever Cas was trying to explain to him while Cas looked adorably exasperated. “Let’s go,” Dean smiled at the two of them, walking to where the officers placed the woman they’d just arrested.

“Actually,” Cas stopped Dean with a hand on his chest. Dean lifted a brow and glanced down at Cas’ hand. “This would be a great opportunity for Jack to learn how to properly interrogate witnesses on cases. You two should take a look at the footage from the mini-mart,” Cas suggested firmly, but he waited for Dean’s approval anyway.

Dean’s lips parted, he looked down her before looking back at Cas. He crossed his arms over his chest and it was oddly arousing. “You sure it’s not ‘cause you suck at using technology,” Dean teased with a smirk.

The deadpan expression on Cas’ face made it funnier, somehow. He sighed and stepped closer to Dean, looking down at both their shiny black shoes. “I’m being serious, Dean,” Cas muttered, but Dean had a smug smile on his face that she knew Cas wouldn’t let slide when he looked up into green eyes. “Besides, you couldn’t figure out how to get Netflix to play on the television, Y/n had to do it.”

Dean might have actually gotten offended. He shut his mouth, a firm line of his lips made those adorable little dimples of his to appear at the upper corners of his mouth. She stifled a laugh, and looked down at her heels, but Dean noticed anyway. Jack was the only one looking away, his gaze fixed across the room where the vending machine was.

“Agents,” one of the detectives called from the interrogation room, staring at the four of them.

“Whatever,” Dean murmured, turning away from them. He left her there with their friends. She grinned up at Cas and he failed to resist a smile. Blue eyes looked down while she patted his chest as a goodbye before she jogged to catch up with Dean.

“So,” she tried breaking the ice, hooking her arm around his as they walked to the room where they could watch the footage, “wanna place a bet?” Dean grunted in response, to which she took as a yes. “100 bucks, it’s a shifter,” she offered, letting go of his arm when he opened the door for her to enter first.

“If it’s anything but a shifter… I get to call the shots on everything we do together for six months,” he said distractedly, beelining to the nearest computer.

“Uh, no,” she laughed, “one month.” Dean glanced at her, it wasn’t anger, but there was something fiery in those forest greens of his that made her pussy clench around nothing. Her breath hitched, but she hid it with a sniffle.

“Four months.” There was a finality to his words that made her shiver. She couldn’t disagree, and anyway, Dean’s ideas were never awful. Dean leaned over the table, and started to type away skillfully at the keyboard, giving her time to consider his compromise, before he pulled the video footage up.

Had he not been waiting for the deal to be sealed with her agreement, she would have dwelled on the wave of arousal flooding between her legs at the sight of him proving Cas wrong about his ability to understand technology.

She stepped closer to Dean, sitting on the table—very close to him.“Cheater,” she smiled playfully, he knew she’d never fold. Dean looked up at her, one hand on the keyboard, the other on the mouse. “Deal,” she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

Dean immediately let go of the keyboard and mouse to step between her legs and kiss her hard. He wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her to the edge of the table, and tangled his fingers in her hair. She moaned into his mouth, lewdly brushing her tongue against his when he pushed into her mouth. With a final, hot, firm suck of her tongue, he pulled away breathlessly with a rosy tint on his cheeks.

She blinked the daze of his hearty lips away, and smiled dreamily, swinging her feet, her heels slipping off her feet slightly as she watched him work. She needed to fuck him, but she forced herself to look away from the pinched concentration of his brows, and the way he chewed on his lip.

She analysed the video with Dean a few times before switching to other cameras around and within the mini-mart. A few people came in and out, no one remotely suspicious or dangerous, nothing supernatural about them either.

“I don’t see anything,” Dean muttered, replaying the last video of the inside of the store. He watched it again for good measure. It showed the woman the detectives arrested serving herself a blue raspberry slushie from the machine with a woman standing next to her, asking for a taste.

She leaned the cup over to her lover, or friend, or whatever she was meant to be. She took a sip and they walked together to the register, the man barely paid any attention to them as they spoke.

“Right there, look,” she told him, Dean raised a brow and rewinded the video. She mischievously ducked under his arms, and placed her hand over his on the mouse, bending over the desk like he was doing so her ass brushed against his crotch. Dean grunted softly, moving away slightly with his hands on her hips.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” he whispered, squeezing her hip. She tried to remain composed, as much as she wanted to keep teasing and possibly do more, she genuinely found something.

Ignoring the throb in her clit, she teasingly asked, “uh, hello?” Dean’s hands flexed on her hip and then he pressed himself against her ass, to see what she saw. “You win the bet, it’s a siren,” she pointed out, pausing on the reflection of the monster’s terrifying face.

“Okay,” Dean whispered, letting her stand straight. “At least if it gets to me or you, it’s toxin won’t work,” he reassured her, kissing the top of her head.

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve always been perfect to me, the one person I could lean on, the one person I knew would never lie to me, or do what Sam did… you’re-”

“Reliable, boring,” she finished for him, crossing her arms insecurely.

“Kind, trustworthy, and good,” he corrected firmly, “you still are, there’s nothing I’m keeping inside, nothing… bad… because you’ve never failed me.” She turned to face him, stomach fluttering, flustered by his steadfast reasonings.

“I can be stubborn and repetitive,” she reminded him, they’ve been angry at each other a few times in the past. Frustrated is the more correct word for it than angry. She didn’t want him to be wrong, or to end up making him feel bad if it worked on either of them.

“Caring and empathetic,” he corrected again, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black slacks. He stepped close to her and narrowed his eyes at her self-deprecating words. Oh, wow, she felt small, and hot, and wet. “Stop arguing with me, I’m older than you. That makes me always right,” he tried to lighten the mood, she smiled softly at him, and laughed.

“You’re right, I don’t think it’s toxin will work,” she agreed despite her doubts. Dean smiled, but tilted his head inquisitively. “You trusted it… or whatever… because it gave you the one thing you wanted most, a family, but now, you’ve got most of what you wanted back then, Sam’s not doin-”

“I don’t pay for therapy sessions, sweetheart,” he dismissed bashfully, slipping his hands out of his slacks to reach out for her hips and tug her towards him.

“Uh, well… there’s always sex,” she suggested seductively, locking her fingers together behind his neck. Dean leaned forward, his nose brushed against hers, and her eyes fluttered shut.

“Sex is pleasure, not business, sweetheart,” he murmured. She felt one of his hands fall from her hip, then she felt a rough, arousing spank on her ass. She yelped while he laughed and lifted her back up on the table. “I love you, you know that?” He asked softly, pressing kisses along her jawline.

“Yes,” she whispered, hooking her fingers on his belt loops to tug him closer between her legs. She wiggled around and got the pencil skirt high enough to let her spread her legs wider for him. Dean finally kissed her, his fingers slowly ghosting along the inside of her thighs, moving higher.

She moaned against his mouth, impatiently waiting for him to touch her where she needed him most. Dean’s kiss became steamier, he pressed closer into her mouth, tongue slowly gliding over hers.

“Can you feel how wet I am for you?” She mumbled when he panted for breath against her mouth. His fingers finally grazed her wet heat and he groaned, roughly burying a hand in her hair. He tugged at the soft locks of her hair and drew circles around her entrance before sliding his fingers up to her clit.

“We need to ditch Cas and Jack,” Dean murmured desperately, pulling his hand out from between her legs much to her dismay. Dean kissed her forehead softly.

“That’s mean,” she pouted jokingly, leaning back with her hands flat on the table.

“Okay, maybe I won’t ditch them, but… I’ll drop them off at the motel, there’s a place on the way,” he informed her, then sucked his fingers clean of her wetness.

“God, you look fuckable,” she giggled, gazing at him flirtatiously.

He flushed red—well, redder. “What?”

“It’s not a secret.” She shrugged casually, playing with his bright red tie. It only made him look hotter. Wickedly so.

“What isn’t?”

“That you look hot in suits,” she laughed, pulling his tie to bring him down for a quick kiss to emphasise her feelings.

“Really? You think so?” He laughed softly against her lips.

“Everyone knows that.”

“I don’t care about everyone, I’m asking about you.” He bit his lip, amused, and squeezed her thighs.

“Yes.”

“I’m ditching them, they’ve got wings,” Dean gave in. He took her hand, pulling her off the table. She quickly fixed her heels and skirt, following him as a zap of excitement coiled up her spine.

“Let me text them first!”

“Seriously? Here?” She laughed, unbuttoning her shirt as fast as she could while Dean fumbled and removed his belt. Dean stared up at her, smiling from ear to ear, and she rolled her eyes at him halfheartedly.

“It’s an abandoned mall’s parking lot,” he reasoned, lifting his hips up to shove his boxers and slacks down all at once. “No one’s finding us here,” he reassured her, hands impatiently roaming up her thighs to lift the tight pencil skirt.

“Like you care,” she teased him, moving forward on her knees. The cotton blanket he placed covered the leather booth-seat, silencing the typical squeak of leather beneath them. Dean spluttered and shrugged indifferently, pulling her shirt out of her skirt to shove his hands inside her bra, and pulled down so her breasts spilled out. She held the door of the Impala, squeezing hard beside his head, and started to lower herself down on him with her fingers curled around his cock.

Dean’s mouth fell open, and he closed his eyes, moaning her name softly. Her pussy clenched around him as she gazed down at his face, her heart stuttering in her chest. His eyes fluttered open, and he bit his plump lip, smirking at her—like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Fuck,” she shuddered. Dean brought her closer, depositing wet kisses along her sternum and cleavage, all the while he gazed up at her from beneath his lashes. She could feel herself get wet around him, getting tighter, her breath hitching as she sank down lower and lower, taking every inch of him.

“You’re hot, too,” he whispered, “in heels, or naked, or in my bed, or… in my car, especially on my dick.” Dean grinned playfully, and cupped her breast, squeezing gently, his calloused palm created delicious friction against her nipple. “You make sexy faces, like the one I just made-”

“Oh, shut up,” she laughed, circling her hips once she’d sunk all the way down on his cock, his blunt fingernails digging into the flesh of her thigh.

“Really?” He teased breathlessly, bringing his two hands to her ass to squeeze and then slap roughly. She gasped and dropped her forehead on his, circling her hips excruciatingly slow. “I thought you liked it when I told you dirty stuff when we have sex. You know… like how badly I wanna cum when I see you every morning? It’s true, by the way,” he teased quietly, kissing her jaw, and bucked up into her pussy when she pushed herself up with her hands pressed against the window of the Impala.

“Drives you crazy, doesn’t it?” He asked, brushing her hair away from her face lovingly. “Sure drives me crazy. Ya know… your hot face, the… pretty sounds you make—all of you. The way you taste… all of you. The smell of your skin and your hair. All the dirty things you say.” She moaned softly, and Dean scooted up slightly, panting against her lips as she started to lift herself up and down again on his lap. “You have no idea how much I love you,” he whispered, his hands travelling along her sides.

“You have no idea how much I love you, Dean,” she laughed softly, cupping his cheeks. She tilted his head up and kissed him long, lips pressed firmly against his to pour every ounce of tenderness and love that flowered inside her heart, connecting the strands of her soul to his, and fusing her burning adoration for him like two colliding stars.

taglist

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#dean’s 45th birthday celebration #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x female!reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction

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hvreticz · 1 year

Text

VIRGINS PARTY (ethan landry x fem!reader)

WARNINGS : MINORS DNI, drunk sex, first time, ethan and reader are virgins (they both are bold), mutual masturbation, p in v, protected sex (ALWAYS), kind of dirty talk, smut with plot, hair pulling, it’s like soft smut it’s their first time but ethan is whipped (lmk if there’s something i missed)

NOT PROOFREAD

words count :

summary : You’re at a party playing truth or dare while drunk and things turns out unexpectedly hot.

a/n : virgin!ethan gives me butterflies (+sub!ethan)

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The music was extremely loud when you entered that frat party, you weren’t the type to go out a lot but when you did, it was always awkward at first. You scanned the crowd of drunk people in hope of recognizing one of your friends -who invited you- and saw chad at the other side of the room, talking with a guy who appeared as awkward as you.

You quickly walked to them and greeted them

“hi guys!” you screamed so both of the boys could hear you, chad screamed hi in return and the other boy looked at you, doing a shy hi from his hand. Now that you were looking at him, you recognized that it was the guy from your econ class, who’s like 2 seats in front of you. Not knowing what to say, that’s the only subject of conversation that came to your mind.

“You have econ right ? i saw you yesterday!” you said and chad gave you the biggest side eye and left, he wasn’t there to talk about school

“what ?” said the boy, frowning his eyebrows, he couldn’t hear shit with that loud music and bended forward to hear you. The proximity made your heart skip a beat. why was that hot ? you thought. You cleared your throat and spoke louder “i asked if you had econ ! i think we’re in the same class !”

“oh…yeah !” the boy looked at you, as if he was searching in his memory if he saw you before, the proximity of your faces made him blush slightly. “yeah i recognize you, saw you a couple of times!” the boy added without saying anything else and the two of you just kept looking at each other, nodding your head while listening to the music -which was awful by the way- and you quickly changed the conversation before the feeling of awkwardness could creep under your skin.

“want a drink ?” you asked, and Ethan looked at you with big round puppy eyes, eyebrows furrowed in a shocked expression. He wasn’t the type to drink but being asked so gently, he felt like refusing would make things weirder “sure ?” he said in a tone, and you didn’t know if he was asking or confirming but you grabbed two red cups anyways, bringing it to him but before you could sip on your cup, chad come beside you and got an arm around your shoulder while his other hand grabbed the boy shoulder.

“we are playing a game of truth or dare, you guys should play, would loosen y’all up.” and with that, he both grabbed you and manhandled the both of you into a room. There was some other people you never saw and some from his friend group. You all sat in a circle and the pretty boy sat next to you, softly smiling and chad spoke

“okay so i’ll start, Tara” he spoke and the girl raised her head “truth or dare?” the girl faked thought about it “dare” she said and you looked at the people around you, it was all the type to ask some dumb shit about running naked or things like that, that game could go wrong very quickly, you thought. “Kiss the hottest person from the room” chad said and the boy next to you rolled his eyes “don’t roll you eyes ethan, we all know you couldn’t do this.”

so his name was ethan…you thought to yourself and he whispered a faint ‘whatever’ and without the music, his voice was ten times more attractive than before, this was going to be hard. While you were lost in your thoughts, some rounds had already passed ans some people left the room, wanting to go back to the party.

A girl waved her hand towards you. “what’s your name pretty girl?” the girl asked, think her name was anika, as you could remember the names quickly now since you weren’t that much anymore ; just chad and his friends, plus you.

“truth or dare?”fuck, you weren’t prepared to be asked so soon and drank a sip of your cup to calm your nerves as everyone looked at you. “dare?” you said with the same hesitation as the boy earlier, not really super if it was a great choice. “oooh she’s bold” said chad and anika have him a slap on the back of his head before continuing “i dare you….” she said as she looked at the people in the room “to kiss ethan!” she said proudly and ethan chocked on his drink, already burning his face in his cup before making even bigger eyes and looking at you.

“you don’t, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to” said the boy and it made your heart melt, kinda. “Do you?” you asked and ethan cheeks grew redder as a laugh escaped chas lips “we’re just, gonna leave you guys do it, ethan’s a little virg—“ chad couldn’t finish his sentence before the sore closed, leaving you both in the room.

alone

You could faintly hear the music that was played from downstairs : the Weeknd.

you looked at ethan who was already looking at you, his heart pounding in his chest. he almost wondered if you were able to hear it. you slowly got to him, straddling him but not touching any part of his body, looking in his eyes. “Can i?” you asked softly and put your hands on his cheeks and ethan couldn’t even speak, he just nodded and you guys kissed. It was sloppy at first, ethan didn’t know what to do with his hands and just put them on your waist, squeezing slightly as you both deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against your lips and you let him enter, releasing a soft sight as you closed the space between your bodies, your covered ass on his front while your hands were in his hair, slowly pulling.

Ethan let out a groan and you pulled away “did i do something bad?” you asked and ethan looked at you, pupils blown “no ! no no- i really enjoy this, really.” he said before closing the gap between you guys lips again, feeling his pants tighten while he slowly reverse the position, you being laid on the floor, your arms supporting you as ethan was on top of you, kissing you deeper and his kiss got down to your neck, you were growing absolutely red and it was so sensual you thought it wasn’t humanly possible to be that hot.

“it’s my first time” ethan babbled in between kiss and your stomach made a knot, not of fear ; that information made you even more aroused. “me too” you slowly whispered and you both looked at each other “maybe doing it on the floor isn’t the best idea…” you said while laughing and ethan laughed back before getting up, helping you get on your feet. For your chance, the bed wasn’t far away and you both literally jumped on it and jumped on each other, more eager than before. “i need you” was all ethan whispered before you sat him on the bed and sat on top of him, kissing him and throwing your shirt away, as ethan did the same with his. You both started to dry hump each other while kissing to release some tension and the sound ethan made literally made your stomach turns.

You quickly got rid of his pants and yours before you hands went straight to his dick while his went for your covered clit, rubbing circles on it as you stroked his dick. Both moans escapes your lips and you looked at each other, no being able to break eye contact. The sounds were almost pornographic as he got under you underwear, dipping a finger into your throbbing cunt. “fuck you’re so hot…and so wet, woah” he genuinely looked shocked and turned on and you kissed him and he kept thrusting in and out of you while moans escaped your lips. You couldn’t wait anymore and pulled his boxer down before grabbing a condom that was on in your pants and he helped you by shifting his hips up, collapsing onto you

“oh fuck, oh my god” one of your hand clenched on his shoulder, digging your nails onto his skin as you slowly get down on him and you both moaned loudly, before staying like that for some time.

“you have condoms on you?” he said? chucking and you chuckled back “you never know, always be protected” was all you said before moving up and down slowly, clenching your cunt as ethan throw his head back, moans filling the room and you both fucked each other for the first time. Ethan thrusted his hips up and it hit a spot you never knew existed, which made you gasp and ethan stopped “fuck, did i hurt you?”

“no keep doing that, it felt so good” you babbled before both of you moved up and down on each other, skin against skin, pace quickening as you felt a knot forming into your lower stomach. Ethan’s name rolled on your tongue like a prayer, and so did he with yours. He grabbed your hips and smacked hard, he was close.

“m’close, fuck, fuck me longer” he started to whimper and let what sounded like a high pitched moan and you slowed down your rhythm before a thousand of ‘please’ and ‘yes’ left his mouth, making you reach you climax “m’gonna cum, fuck, oh my god” you said and Ethan nodded vigorously, kissing you again as you both came at the same time, fucking you through your orgasm.

When you both looked et each other, your faces where red, your breathing was fast and you were totally dick drunk while he was totally whipped by your pussy, it was made for him to fuck into.

You got up and gasped slightly at the emptiness now. You got to pee and ethan cleaned himself before you put back your pantie and he put back on his boxer before you both cuddled a bit. He kissed you on the forehead and looked at you. “Chad is probably wondering was is taking us so long.” he said “probably think we couldn’t kiss and just talked” you shrugged and ethan smiled before you both got dressed.

Before leaving the room, ethan grabbed you by the arm “so…i’ll see you in econ ?” you smiled and kissed him “keep me a seat next to you then” you both smiled and left the room hands in hands and reunited with your friends.

taglist : @1h3artjah @shrekscrustybudassy @monkeyp0x-blog @rafelvr @gemilee @qrminsbabe @sicbaby

#sub! ethan landry #ethan landry smut #scream #scream smut #scream 6 #ethan kirsch #scream 6 smut #smut #smut masterlist #ethan x reader #ethan landry imagine #scream iv #scream movie

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intoanotherworld23 · 7 months

Text

Guard My Body

Pairing: Reader x Joel Miller

Warnings: NSFW 18+ only, this whole one shot is pure smut and filth, there is unprotected sex, p in v, body guard Joel, rough sex, smidge of spanking, brief mention of masturbation, dirty talk, swear words

Summary: Joel is hired by your father to be your personal body guard, and he plans on doing more than just guarding your body

Hearts, reblogs and comments are highly encouraged and appreciated so I hope y’all enjoy this one! If you wish to be added to the tag list please don’t hesitate to ask cause I would be more than happy to add you! Thank you all so much for your continued support! XOXO

Check out my other works on my Hall Of Hunks

"This is so wrong." Moaning as you bounced up and down on Joel's cock. "God this is wrong."

"That why your pussy is squeezing my cock so tightly." His tone mocking as he smirked up at you. "Cause this is so wrong."

"No it feels so fucking good." Whining as your hands gripped on his shoulder most likely drawing blood.

"Should have known you'd crave my cock." His hands on your hips guiding your movements at the pace he wanted.

"What would daddy think?"

"Seeing his daughter riding her body guard." He was teasing you making your cheeks heat up. "See what a true slut his daughter is."

"Shut up." Smiling at his teasing words making him chuckle.

"Not that I'm complaining about this at all." His eyes looked down to where you two were connected. "Could stay like this all day."

A part of you knew your father would be pissed if he found out you fucked your body guard. He specifically hired him to watch you, and make sure no harm came your way.

Then again you were already so close to cumming that you didn't care. All your mind was focused on was Joel's cock so deep you felt him in the pit of your stomach.

"Joel please." Crying out as you felt the tip of his cock poking at your sweet spot making your toes curl.

Hearing you whine his name gave him the go to drive his hips up wildly into you. Your whole body was shaking and moving along with him. Your head reeled back in ecstasy hands clawing at the leather seats. Your arousal was coating his cock making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.

"What sweetheart?" He looked up at you licking his lips watching your face unravel. "Tell me what you want."

"Say it." He commanded as his thrusts slowed down and his hand came down hard on your cheek. "Say what you want baby."

"Harder Joel." Mumbling out as you started to grind your hips around his cock.

"God I should have fucked you sooner." Growling into the skin of your shoulder making your moan as he bit down.

"Bet you touched yourself to the thought of me."

He wasn't completely lying when he said that though. Every time you were alone at night you would sneak your hands down, and touch yourself imagining it was him. Of course you weren't going to admit that to him.

"No." Lying as you started to move your hips up and down, but his hands were preventing you from moving.

"I don't like liars." His voice became darker making your pussy clench around him.

Before you know it his hands one after the other came down hard on your ass cheeks. Leaving a stinging feeling as you took with scrunching your face up in pain. He wasn't playing around with you right now. It turned you on a lot more than you expected.

"Mmm wanna change that answer." A hand reached up to grab your chin and make you look at him. "I'll let you cum if you do."

"Please Joel." Begging him as you stared deep into his eyes too embarrassed to tell him the truth.

"Tell me the truth baby and I'll give you everything you want." His mouth reached forward to attach itself to your nipple.

"Oh god." Breathing out as your mouth hung open watching as he twirled his tongue around the nub.

"Fuck god yes I've touched myself to the thought of you."

"Good girl." He grinned before sharply thrusting his hips up making you gasp.

Wrapping your arms around his neck as he picked up the speed. Drilling into you so hard your entire body was turning into flames. Pressing your breasts close to his face feeling a wet tongue lick across. A shiver running up your spine as your senses became overwhelmed.

Whispering filthy and dirty things in your ear as you rode him. Your breath shaky every word he spoke, your pussy clenching every time he said something. Mouth wide open so overcome with pleasure that no sounds could come out.

"So desperate for my cock aren't you." It was a condescending question, but right now you didn't care. "Have you begging for it."

"Want to feel that delicious cunt of yours squeeze my cock." Groaning into your chest his hands coming down on your ass making them jiggle.

His cock hit your sweet spot making you scream. Finding that spot he was relentless and continued to hit it over and over again. His hands gripped onto your hips so hard they would probably bruise.

"Fuck Joel right there keep going." You mewled closing your eyes.

"Cum all over my cock baby." He snarled into your skin holding your body even closer to his trying to hit up into an angle that would have you seeing stars.

Your toes were curling and you could feel your pussy walls squeezing the life out of his cock as you released. A couple more thrusts and Joel was squirting his cum inside you. Your head leaned forward on his shoulder trying to catch your breath.

Joel's forehead was drenched in sweat and his arms were shaking still holding your trembling body. Both of you still trying to cum down from your intense high.

"Now I know why your father is so protective of you." He joked as he pressed his forehead against your collarbones.

"Thanks I guess." Scrunching your eyebrows at him with a smile making him laugh.

“I would not mind doing that again.”

“Well you know what they say.” Joel looking at you with a wide grin. “Practice makes perfect.”

Just as Joel was about to lean forward to kiss your lips a loud knock came from the door. Both your attention turning towards the sound in a sense of panic. Feeling terrified even more when you heard that familiar voice.

"Sweetheart everything alright?" Your fathers voice rang on the other side making you and Joel look to each other.

"I heard screaming."

#Pedro pascal #joel miller #Pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #Pedro pascal imagines #joel miller imagines #Pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x reader #Pedro pascal fic #joel miller fic #Pedro pascal one shot #joel miller one shot #Pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction

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glenechoslasher · 2 months

Text

"Savior" ||

Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader

Rating: None

Length: 2.1k

Asked by: @photo1030

Ooo! Random thought, maybe can link to my last request. Reader (or character, your choice) gets hurt and Arthur has to take care of them. Maybe shot in the leg and he has to carry them. They get to see a softer side to him, being all caretaker and protective.

Protective Arthur is just... *chef's kiss* I can't explain it but seeing him so good with a gun, being able to down someone within seconds then to turn around and be so gentle with you?? I need it, crave it, even. Thanks for the ask, hon!~

It was supposed to be a simple bank coach robbery, just a quick in-and-out sort of situation, and you insisted that you go along to assist Mary-Beth and Sean, but with Arthur being as worried as he always was, he felt it was best to tag along and make sure Sean didn’t pull you into any other mischief. The Irishman, of course, took offense to that, but he didn’t exactly mind that you two wanted to tag along. The more the merrier, even if the cut of the pay was less.

As much as Arthur tried to insist you remain back, you were headstrong and refused to let him tell you what you were capable of. You’d had a successful string of heists you were able to pull off with the other gang members, so why would this one be any different? Without much argument afterward, you rode off on your horse behind Sean and Mary-Beth, and a disgruntled Arthur followed you all from the rear.

It was difficult to put into words how this made Arthur feel, but he knew that going along to assist would have eased his discomfort, and hearing Sean’s plan to distract the coach was more than entertainment in itself. But with Sean being inept with firearms, Arthur had ridden alongside your horse to listen in on the plan.

Mary-Beth was more than excited to get out of the camp and put her talent to good use, and even more so when you had offered to tag along if they wouldn’t mind. “Oh, this is excitin’!” She exclaimed with a large smile on her face. “Easy enough to flag ‘em down, I think.”

Sean was proud of his idea and felt that he should have had more credit, but Arthur, being who he was, was unsure and unimpressed with Sean’s usefulness when it came to stressful situations.

“I’m just keepin’ an eye on you, MacGuire, I know they’re solid,” he stated matter-of-factly as his horse trotted along to the speed of Ennis.

“Alright, alright, you get knocked out on a mission one time-”

“More than once,” Arthur corrected.

The Irishman just scoffed and shook his head. “Look, you can write about it in your journals, but let’s get back to my job, the one I brought y’all in on!” He huffed.

You couldn’t help but laugh at how much those two men were always at each other’s throats, no matter what the other was doing. “Let’s focus, gentleman, the lady and I will have this done lickety-split, it’ll be a cakewalk.” You looked over at Arthur with confidence shining in your eyes, and you thought you caught a glimpse of a smile from across his face, but it was gone before you could blink.

Sean led the way until they came to a crossroads, then he told you all to keep the horses out of sight as he scoped out where they could hide for the time being. “Alright then, here we are, they’ll be comin’ from the North any minute, you both know what you’re doin’, right?”

Arthur just scoffed and shook his head. “Course they know what they’re doin’,” he replied gruffly.

You jumped down from your horse and patted its muzzle gently. “Mary-Beth is gonna run out and flag ‘em down, I’ll be off a ways to scope out the guards, and you two will be behind the log. Sean will ring off some shots, and Arthur will come in and clean up while I pick ‘em off from behind. Easy.”

Sean looked satisfied with that response and nodded. “Alright, perfect! Now, Morgan, let’s go and get behind this log, you-” he pointed in your direction, “-get over to those trees and don’t be spotted. Mary-Beth, get ready.”

The redhead felt proud of this plan, he was sure everything would work out, and he had the details down to a T. Everything went fine until it didn’t.

Instead of spooking the guards to throw them off, Sean took aim after hearing the way one of the men spoke to Mary-Beth and scoped him from his spot behind the log. Arthur immediately began to fire, albeit reluctantly since Sean was deviating from the initial plan. He hadn’t caught sight of you yet, but he figured you were doing alright for yourself. Then suddenly, a man lunged for Mary-Beth and held a gun to her head, his arm clenched around her throat.

“Let GO of me!” She snapped, trying her best to claw at his arm.

“Got your little lady friend here! Drop your guns!”

Arthur removed his rolling block rifle and watched the man hide himself behind the woman through the scope. “Dammit, he keeps movin’, don’t got a clear shot.”

“I got it!” You suddenly yelled out, and before you had a chance to line up the shot, the man had heard you and took aim. The shot rang out and the bullet penetrated your upper thigh.

Your scream echoed out and Arthur finally had a clear shot to take the man down for good. “Sean, get Mary-Beth! I got them!” He said as he threw the gun over his shoulder and took off running where you’d fallen to the ground. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbled to himself as he finally caught up to you.

You were trying your best to hold onto your leg the best you could to apply pressure, but it didn’t help much, you couldn’t stifle the scream you released when it hurt a little too much. “Shit, guess I messed that up badly…”

“Nah, you didn’t, lemme see,” Arthur said as he moved your hands, checking out where the wound was. “Ah, right through the meat of the leg but just missed your femoral artery. You’ll be alright, just gotta treat it when we get to camp. C’mon, it ain’t gonna feel pretty.”

Arthur grabbed his bandana and tied it around your leg the best he could to keep pressure, then he scooped you into his arms and carried you back to his horse.

Sean and Mary-Beth had cleaned out the coach and the dead men’s pockets as he took care of you, but Mary-Beth felt awful. “Are they gonna be alright?” She asked, her tone laced with worry.

He just nodded and helped you as carefully as he could onto his horse, but the discomfort was a lot, yet you remained as strong as you could and held onto the horn of the saddle. “Call my horse, please…” You whimpered. “Can’t leave ‘em here…”

“You worry ‘bout yourself, your horse’ll be fine,” the gunslinger assured you as he hopped on behind you. “It’s gonna hurt with the ride but the faster we get back the better. Y’all go on, we’ll split the money when we meet back, don’t let anyone follow you.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Sean said with a meek smile, feeling awful you’d been hurt. “Take care of ‘em, will ya?”

Arthur nodded in response, whistled for your horse to follow, and rode off as quickly as he could. The ride was definitely painful, but you managed to hold out long enough until you got back to camp, where Arthur had taken you to your tent, which thankfully had some privacy. He left you alone for all of two minutes when he came back with all the necessities he needed to fix you up proper.

You lay there on your cot, and as you tried to look up at him to speak, all you could do was groan in pain until he placed his hand gently on the back of your neck, having you sit up slightly. “Here, take a shot of whiskey, it’ll help a bit. I gotta dig the bullet out and cauterize the wound.”

After hearing all that and swallowing the burning liquid, your consciousness was in and out, very hazy, until you saw black and just heard the sound of Arthur’s voice.

Hours later, you awoke with a dry hoarseness in your throat, your eyes blinked rapidly to adjust to the low lamplight that had been inside your tent, and you looked up to see Arthur beside your cot. He already reached for the deerskin and placed it to your lips. You drank greedily at the water until you felt satisfied enough to pull away, coughing from the coldness.

“There you are,” Arthur greeted softly, removing the deerskin from your grasp. “You’re gonna be fine, just gotta stay off the leg for a while,” he commented. “You feelin’ alright?” He leaned over and dunked a cloth into a bucket of water, then wring it out, and placed it gently over your forehead.

You looked over at him and smiled softly. “Didn’t know you were so caring,” you joked softly, chuckling to yourself.

Arthur waved his hand dismissively and scoffed. “Had my fair share of bullets is all, makin’ sure you don’t pull a stunt like that again, you hear?”

You nodded and a small smile crept across your face, you couldn’t help but stare up at him and admire the man. He acted as if he didn’t care much about others, that he wasn’t any better than a stone-cold killer, but here he was worrying about you and taking care of you. Usually, it was left up to one of the women who were more well-versed in bedside manner, like Miss Grimshaw, but Arthur had insisted on your behalf. Naturally, he didn’t tell you this, it was Mary-Beth who informed you when she came in to visit while Arthur had gone to refill the bucket and grab some more medical supplies from Strauss’s wagon.

“Oh it’s been real sweet, he ain’t left unless he needed to get somethin’ for you,” Mary-Beth beamed. “Almost like somethin’ straight out of one of my books, he’s been real particular, too.”

“Of what?” You questioned.

“He hasn’t let anyone other than me and Tilly into your tent, even was on edge when Charles offered to help.”

This information made your cheeks feel warm, he was practically babying you back to health, you’d never seen this side of him before. “Wow, I would have never expected Arthur Morgan to be at my bed-side,” you teased as you looked up at the young woman.

She nodded, still all smiles. “Well, I hear him comin’ so that’s my cue, better leave you to it or else he’ll kick me out,” she joked and stood up from the chair. “You feel better, and holler if you need anythin’ from us.”

“Thanks, Mary-Beth.”

She nodded her head and left the tent, then was quickly replaced by Arthur, who set the bucket down beside his chair and had a bowl of stew in the other hand. “You think you can eat yet?”

You hummed in response and wet your dry lips with your tongue. “I can try if it’ll make you feel better.”

“It would, now here,” he offered as he slowly placed his hand beneath your shoulders, giving you a little push to help you sit up.

“Heard you’ve been fussin’ over me since we got back, that true?”

Arthur sighed, knowing damn well Mary-Beth was going to say something to you at some point. “It ain’t a big deal, no big drama,” he waved it off. “Just makin’ sure you’re gonna be okay, which you are, by the way.” He held the bowl until you were ready to take it and try to feed yourself, but still leaned forward in case he needed to grab it from you. “Just rest up and you’ll be right as rain soon enough.” You grabbed the bowl and smiled over at Arthur, the adoration in your eyes quite apparent. “Arthur… thank you, I know you’re gonna think it’s no big deal, but it is to me. Couldn’t have made it without you,” you remarked. “I owe you-”

“You don’t owe me nothin’, well, except maybe one thing.”

Your head perked up and you offered him a smile. “Anything.”

With that, his mouth curled into a wide smile, thoughts running through his head as if he could have said so many things, but those thoughts would be shared later. For now, he figured he should settle on the obvious. “Promise me next time you ain’t gonna go runnin’ with MacGuire, you need a job done, you ask me.” He sat back in the chair and offered a lopsided grin.

Thankfully you didn’t bring the spoon up to your mouth; you’d laughed and almost dropped the bowl. “Sure thing, Arthur, anything for you.” Your eyes locked with his and you couldn’t help but feel like you owed him more than that, but for now, you owed him to get better and listen for once. You’d show him how grateful you were when you could use your leg again.

“Hey, Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks again,” you said softly.

The man just chuckled and lit up a cigarette after getting your permission. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan drabble #arthur morgan writing #writing drabble #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 arthur morgan #red dead writings #tinalbion writings #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #gender neutral reader #comfort #slight angst

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farfromstrange · 2 months

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Interview With The Vampire | Vampire!Matt Murdock x F!Reader

-> Main Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire!Matt Murdock x F!Reader (she/her)

Summary: You are the first journalist to interview Hell’s Kitchen’s resident vampire vigilante after he requested you personally to tell his story. He’s offering you a way out of your miserable job—to make your voice be heard. You’re desperate and curious, so you decide to take the risk. Most people only know him as Daredevil, but you are about to learn who’s really behind the mask. How hard can it possibly be? As it turns out, interviewing a vampire is a lot more complex than you expected it to be, and Matthew Michael Murdock has set his mind on ruining you for any other man to come.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), alternative universe, blood play, marking, scent kink, slight Dom!Matt, unprotected p in v, oral f!receiving, biting, vampirism, angst, religious imagery & symbolism, Catholic guilt, mentions of violence, allusions to suicidal thoughts, lots of plot, age gap

Word Count: 12.2k (this is a beast)

Other Characters: Vampire!Elektra (mentioned), Ben Urich (mentioned)

A/n: I finally got this one edited. This is a beast, y’all! I drew inspiration from Anne Rice’s Interview With The Vampire, but particularly the 2022 AMC series (I fell in love with it then and there), but it’s not based on it, so I just played around with the idea and this came out. It’s a lot, but it wasn’t enough for a full-blown series, so you’re getting a big ass One Shot instead. I used my usual Smut tag list, but since this is slightly Dead Dove Do Not Eat, heed the warnings and proceed with care! Don't read it if you don't want to. Anyway, I hope you like it!

Read Me On AO3!

The sun has long set over the Big Apple. Artificial neon, cars, and ceiling lights burning in the highrises along the riverfront cancel out the darkness that has befallen the country’s east. Noise melts into a flood that rolls over people’s senses, but most in New York City have grown numb to the city that never sleeps.

Sirens follow cacophonies of screams. Teenagers get into clubs with their fake IDs, adults get drunk in bars or go to work the night shift at their underpaid jobs, and the other half cry themselves to sleep, knowing they will have to get up in the morning and go through the same hell all over again.

Life has become a miserable existence, and it leaves human beings wondering, ‘How much longer do we have to endure this before we all finally drop dead?’

The system fails them. The law fails to protect them. All they can do is lie down and wait to die. And they will die sooner or later. That’s inevitable.

In Hell’s Kitchen, in a penthouse with a view of the Hudson through colored windows that gloss over during the day and show the city throughout the night, resides someone who most of the city only knows by an alias—Daredevil.

If anyone crosses him, he will suck them dry. It’s not a metaphor, I’m afraid; his reputation precedes him. Criminals fear the red eyes that come with fists and a sharp set of teeth that will surely run them into the ground. The rest of the city feels a little safer with him, but so far, no one has dared to question his nature.

Fear is known to work as a paralytic. And this man living in the penthouse by the Hudson is the personification of what one might consider fear-inducing. Without the fear of others, he would not be thriving.

An apex predator like him lives for the thrill of the kill. When the adrenaline spikes, it makes the prey start running and the blood taste so much sweeter. It is to a creature of his kind what a good glass of century-old red wine would be to a human being; he savors every last drop of it.

Two years out of your Master’s degree at Columbia University, you have become one of those hard-working adults who fall into bed later than they should, and you lie awake at night, wondering how much longer you have to exist before you can live.

You interned at the Bulletin; you ran the true crime and mystery column for over a year before the newspaper shut down. A billionaire from downtown Manhattan bought it to start his own magazine, and you were the only employee he didn’t fire. Instead of relying on your top-tier education and experience though, he has banned you to the lifestyle and beauty column. He’s a beast if you have ever seen one.

On a Monday in June then, after the sun has risen and is now falling again, you find an envelope on your desk. You glide your fingers over the fancy paper. The letters are written in handwriting that resembles the old letters from the 18th century you had the pleasure of using as research material for your Bachelor’s thesis.

Your heart skips a beat. Could it be…

It is no secret that vampires exist.

Over two decades ago, scientists published papers on the existence of blood-sucking creatures after years of valuable research, and now governments around the world have set out to burn the inhuman species out before they can cause any more damage. Vampirism though is older than humanity itself and unless law enforcement has evidence of homicide, vampires have the right to exist amongst humans.

They are excellent at hiding their true nature, that much is true. The lore that has been passed down since the beginning of time is only partly true. They know how to adapt and rise from the ashes like elegant phoenixes. The misconceptions surrounding their existence stem from fiction, horror, and fear, but they persist.

And a rule has been established in society ever since the truth was revealed: don’t talk about vampires!

Don’t talk about them unless it’s in a fictional context. Don’t put your research out there. Don’t fraternize with them. Don’t risk becoming prey. Don’t be fascinated by them, and God forbid, don’t you dare write articles about them for the public records. If you want to know about vampires, you have to dig, and you have to do so quietly or society will deem you crazy and a freak.

The worst thing to be is not a flying android or a super soldier with a shield; the worst thing you can be, in this day and age, is a vampire.

You were a curious child who turned into an even more curious adult. At times even a bitter one because she couldn’t get the answers she yearned for and had to do it herself. So, of course, the We Don’t Talk About Vampires rule came across as rather absurd, learning about it back when you were merely a teen.

You started researching, and you found out more than you thought you would—more than you thought you could. You wanted to cover the issue in the Bulletin back when you still worked there, but since humans were raised to fear the very mention of vampires in the real world, no longer romanticizing the concept but rather running from it, the truth shall remain hidden. Again, that seemed absurd, but you had to accept it to get ahead.

You kept researching to the point you convinced yourself you could be one of them if you tried. You felt like you understood them, but nothing could ever fully answer all of your questions to the point it felt truthful. Honest. Real.

Growing up, everyone told you dead things aren’t supposed to walk. They aren’t supposed to breathe and exist among the living. They are cruel, and vampires are killers that leave trails of bodies the government is hiding from us. Greediness exceeds common sense. The human mind tends to get sick and twisted, and those who don’t fit in hardly ever stand a chance.

Hell’s Kitchen is particularly quiet on the issue. Rumor has it that the vigilante chasing criminals at night and leaving the worst of them dry at the shore of the Hudson while, at the same time, surrendering those he deems worthy of rehabilitation to the authorities, is one of those vampires.

They call him Daredevil; the savior of innocents and the downfall of the vile. Only a handful of people know who he is. The truth is caught in a spider web of lies, unable to come out unless someone were to tell his story for the world to hear.

That Monday in June when you open the mysterious envelope on your desk, everything changes.

He addressed you personally. Your name resembles a masterpiece, the letters swirling at the edges.

You don’t know me, but I know you.

It’s strange to read your name out of the mouth of a stranger.

I must admit, Miss, I’m a big fan of your writing. And I’m not talking about the lifestyle and beauty column Mr. Doherty of the ‘Silver Lining’ has confined you to.

No, I am a big fan of the work you used to do for the New York Bulletin. I remember your name headlining many articles on crime here in Hell’s Kitchen—a column my late friend Ben Urich used to call his home.

It’s a shame that the paper was shut down. I tried to prevent it, but the disappearance of half of humanity and Wilson Fisk’s irreparable damage to the city’s foundation tied my hands.

The token female journalist reporting on unsolicited beauty advice and lifestyle choices no one is going to follow in the days of social media and fake marketing. It must be frustrating, right? Not having a story to tell. Not getting recognized for your impeccable talent. The Bulletin gave you a platform, but Mr. Doherty and his goons took that away from you.

What I’m asking myself is, are you satisfied? You were probably imagining a different future for yourself. A woman of your caliber must want to be more than a mere object used to make a bottomless magazine look better on the market.

Excuse my overstepping. I read one of your essays on the magical and the mythic—lore versus reality—the other day, and it inspired me. My life has been taking quite a few turns lately, so I required some new… let’s call it insight.

You don’t know me, but I am one of those creatures you are fascinated by. I’m the kind of creature people have been telling you not to write about because the weak minds of the public would not receive it well. The Catholics, the church, the fragile and fearful human beings that can’t imagine anything in fiction being real and want to remain the superior species—trust me, I know what it feels like to be backed into a corner. To be abandoned. To be underestimated. Not quite like you, I admit, but I have a few years of experience in and with this world to show for myself.

I imagine you’re tired of your position. I imagine you’re dissatisfied with human idiocy. You crave answers to your questions. Questions you have been asking yourself ever since college failed to answer them. My kind is being censored—partly for good reason—but that doesn’t sit right with you, does it? To live life in a monotone line with no clear way out of this boring rhythm you have had to fall into?

I can offer you a different path. A story. Answers to your questions. And the unfiltered truth of a 242-year-old man.

You are going to find a card with my address attached to this letter. I can assure you, sweetheart, we both want the same thing. I will wash your hands if you wash mine. Think about it, and come find me when you have made your decision. Preferably after the sun has set.

Yours sincerely,

The paper crumbles in your hands, but only at the corners. Your eyes are glued to the lost drops of ink, the blue blood of an old fountain pen caving under too much pressure.

He chose his words carefully. Every paragraph circles around your head. You breathe in, and it suddenly feels as though the whiff of the unknown is an inhalable drug, twisting your brain inside out.

The pull threatens to submerge you in a stormy ocean. You’re flailing your arms around helplessly, but there is nothing for you to hold onto. All buoys have drifted into oblivion, leaving a sea of utter emptiness behind, and in the midst of it, there you are, drowning.

In a moment of clarity, you fold the letter back down on the desk. It lands with a thud, and you look around frantically, checking if anyone is watching you. They aren’t.

M. That’s all he’s giving you. And the fact he is over two hundred years old proves the rumors to be true. He’s standing by it, but only to you. He wants to reveal himself to you, show you his true face for a story, but he’s a vampire.

You’re alone. You can wash his hands, but is just showing up enough for him? You don’t even know him.

You’re in trouble. This time though, you didn’t even do anything. You did your job, and he caught an interest in you. How does that work?

Your heart skips another beat. It should not, but it does. The danger is exciting. It shouldn't be exciting. You hate what your body is doing, but how can you make it stop? You can’t. You can’t do anything but take it.

This stranger has got you in a chokehold, but in his hands, you might as well surrender to your certain demise. You don’t consider vampires inherently evil, but there is a reason people warn you not to walk alone at night in Hell’s Kitchen. He’s dangerous, no matter his nature, and he is not supposed to lure you in the way he does.

But you’re a curious kitten, and he is offering you the holy grail of answers to questions you have been grappling with for years. He hit the nail right on the head. And it doesn’t even scare you how well he knows you.

This is a gold mine. Realistically speaking, telling a vampire’s story could make or break your career as a journalist. If you do it for the magazine, you’re done before you can even bring your words to print, but if you do it individually and you do it well, people will certainly eat it up. The question is just, are you going to play your entire life safe, conforming to your boss’s view of you until you get the freedom you crave, or are you going to take the risk and fly?

The answer is as clear as day, but it takes you a moment to process. It’s as though someone is in your head, steering you in the direction of whoever this M is. Daredevil. This vampire who wants you to interview him, and for what? That’s still an open question you don’t have the answer to. But you do know what to do.

You scramble for your laptop, your notepad, and the letter in the envelope. The clock strikes four. You have another two hours on the clock, but you can’t be bothered to stay.

Upon hearing the sound of your shoes hurriedly scraping against the linoleum floors, one of your colleagues turns in her chair. “Where are you going?” she asks.

“I, uh, have somewhere to be,” you tell her as you brush past her.

“What, now?”

“Yeah. I forgot I had an appointment.”

“What about Mr. Doherty?”

You stop on your way out, looking back over your shoulder. “If everything works out,” you say, glancing through the window to his office at the other end of the hall, “He’ll have my letter of resignation by the end of the week.”

She gasps softly. “You’re quitting?” her voice is barely above a whisper.

Almost sinisterly, you chuckle. “That’s the plan, yeah.”

“But—”

“Tell your daughter Happy Birthday from me. I gotta go.”

Your steps echo for minutes still, but you are long gone with the wind.

Silver linings are considered an advantage that comes from an unpleasant situation. The name has proven to be entirely unfit for the magazine that replaced a big piece of Hell’s Kitchen’s history. The Bulletin had cultural value as much as it was laden with decades of the city’s stories told to the average person.

Wilson Fisk was the dynamite that sent New York alight. The Bulletin’s destruction was mere collateral damage in the fight to get the city back on track. You have had so many reasons to leave presented to you, yet you never took them. If you had, maybe you wouldn’t be here, making bad decisions on what started as just another Monday in June.

The fact is though, you didn’t leave, and you are here now. Facts are what matter. They count. Your hypothetical past, present, and future have no place in this reality because you can’t travel back or forward in time. Vampires may exist, and the Avengers time-traveled to save the world, but things aren’t quite as easy once you look at the bigger picture. You are not a superhero, you’re just a journalist chasing the kind of story that will finally make her voice be heard.

You know that Ben Urich, at least, would be proud of you.

His address weighs heavy on the small card you pulled out of the envelope earlier that evening. You passed it on to the cab driver, and he began to navigate the dark streets of Hell’s Kitchen. The luxury condominiums in this part of the city can be counted on one hand. You know exactly when you’re there.

The sun has once again set over New York City. You’re wide awake, not quite sure though if you’re ready to face what you are walking blindly into. Even your driver refuses to take you past a certain point, and that is how you know that you’re not dreaming. This is real, and it’s supposed to be terrifying.

How come you’re not scared then?

You slip twenty dollars to the cab driver, then climb out of the backseat. The salty air from the Hudson River a few blocks down wafts around your sensitive nose. In the distance, you can hear waves crashing into the docks as the wind picks up in speed. The boats must be moving wildly by now, swaying from side to side and possibly even making the fish in the depths of the water seasick. You would be if you were them.

With every step, you grow closer to your target. On second thought, maybe you should have brought more than just a pathetic bottle of pepper spray and your precious laptop. You could have brought your grandfather’s cassette recorder, at least that would leave a mark if you hit someone over the head with it.

Do vampires get concussions? That is another question you can add to the seemingly endless list in your mind. It’s a confusing place as of late, and the weird sense that someone is playing with the controls won’t leave you alone. Either you are overthinking, or you are worse off than you originally thought.

The apartment complex the card directs you to stretches high above you. You look up, seeing not a single light on. That’s odd, you think, but then again, you are meeting with the city’s most notorious man. If he is who everyone says he is, and if the rumors are even true, that is.

As you are about to approach the entrance, your fingertips start to burn. A gasp escapes past your lips. Staring down, the cubical piece of paper goes up in flames. You are mere feet from the door, nowhere near close to an open source of fire, and the card starts to burn like a wildfire.

You pull back, your heart hammering against your ribcage. The ashes fall to the ground, but before they can hit the asphalt, they vanish.

“What the–” before you can finish, the doors before you swing open toward the inside. The lights turn on. Someone even has called the elevator for you.

Another step forward, and a voice stops you. “Fourth floor, down the hallway, first door to your right,” the voice says through the speaker. Only then do you notice the lack of a doorbell.

Everything in you is screaming for you to run, but you are rooted in the spot. He dragged you here with a mere letter, and you were more than ready to jump. Desperation was the only thing that drove you here. Your brain seems incapable of rational thought.

What if that is what he wanted all along? To get you complicit by playing on what you so desperately need, which is a story and a way out of this boring everyday life that is threatening to slowly kill you.

He’s like a siren, luring you into his deadly trap, but even knowing all of this, you still can’t find it in yourself to run.

The second you enter the building, the door shuts behind you, and your only way out is officially locked. You made the decision; you have dug your own grave, possibly quite literally, and now you have to lie in it. It’s better to die chasing a good story than dying at a desk in an office that doesn’t respect you.

You are a disgrace, you can hear your father’s voice in the back of your mind. He always warned you not to be too reckless or your bad decisions will eventually catch up with you. He always taught you not to trust strangers, and to stay the hell away from those who disgrace God, but you have never cared much about being a good girl.

Your thoughts are as morbid as your obsession with the walking undead. It is time you embrace what people are already saying about you.

The elevator ride feels like an eternity. It goes up and up and up until it finally stops on the fourth floor. The walls smell like nothing but a faint hint of bleach. It’s clean, parquette not carpet, and the walls are kept in a shade resembling a mixture between crimson and maroon, and it is blending into a sort of marble.

The metal doors slide open. Again, you hesitate. A sweet whisper echoes in your ear, dragging you toward the edge. You breach the border between the elevator and the hallway that waits behind it. The voice is distant, and it doesn’t sound human—it reminds you of a siren’s song, calling for you. He is calling for you, and a fog settles over your mind. You’re not in control anymore, he is.

You imagine him to be an old man, possibly middle-aged. Vampires stop aging when they’re turned. Their mind doesn’t. You’ve read the research plenty. They are wise beings, more intelligent than human beings could ever fathom. That makes them dangerous.

Their venom rivals the intoxicating feeling of heroin, you’ve heard, and it heightens your senses to the point all you can feel is the one who bit you. Research suggests it’s a million times stronger than an orgasm, for both the vampire and the human being.

Part of you has always wanted to try it. Part of you wants to know what it feels like to be sucked dry. You want to know what it feels like to be carried into a new dimension by someone who knows how to play the human body like a fucking piano, eliciting the sweetest melody through your very essence and the symphony of your moans.

This M—Daredevil—is inherently dangerous. He’s as mysterious as they come; a man in a mask lurking in the dark corners of Hell’s Kitchen every night, turning the fight for justice into his hunting ground.

It’s as though he curled his fingers, and you followed.

You walk the dark hallway down to the door on the right. Paintings litter the walls. Masterpieces, blotches of white, red, and color. You recognize the red marble as a decorative theme on the wallpaper. Tracing your fingers over it, the rough drywall scratches at your skin.

You reach out a shaky hand toward the golden knob. Before you can turn it though, the door already flings open. It must be witchcraft.

Red appears to be his favorite color. At least judging from the hallway, that is true. When you step into the room with a pounding heart and blood pooling in your cheeks though, the inside of the room is a lot more… human. You wouldn’t have guessed it from the gloominess surrounding you on your way there.

A leather couch and armchairs stand in the middle, facing toward the window front. Colored windows, as you have gathered from the rumors. They are see-through now though, showing the city skyline and the moon up high. The chandelier on the ceiling is the only piece of furniture you would consider old. Browns meet hues of blue and dark green, a forest at midnight, and you suck in a sharp breath. The apartment is beautiful.

You look to your left and see a bookshelf stretching the length of the wall. You can’t help but run your hand over the backs. You would have expected original editions from the 18th or 19th century, but when your fingers trace over the bindings, you are met with the bulging of Braille underneath the elegant golden writing of the titles. None of them seem to have collected dust. It surprises you to only find a mere handful of classics that haven’t been transcribed in Braille and a realization you did not expect starts to crawl its way forward.

“I stole that one from a library in Paris.”

Your racing heart stops beating. The book you’ve been holding falls to the ground, its worn-out leather cracking further around the spine. The thud is deafening. You gasp, turning around. Your shoulders fly up as the tension ripples through every last muscle in your bone. Your bones ache just from how stiff you’re standing, but you can’t move.

The man before you moves as quietly as a mouse. You didn’t hear him coming. The moonlight reflects off his dark brown hair, making it appear almost ginger. He’s wearing a simple suit without a tie, and the white of his shirt is as pristine and clean as the cut of his beard. You can see chest hair poking out from underneath the two open buttons, as dark as the locks on his head. His jawline is irresistibly sharp, leading up to a pair of plump lips he is wrapping around the brim of a crystal glass filled with rum.

Your heart remains frozen. Not a single drop of blood pumps through your veins, yet your cheeks burn brighter than a bonfire on a pitch-black night.

But his flawless appearance is not what catches your attention the most. Looking up into his eyes, wanting to know whether they are as red as those set into the devil’s mask, you find nothing but your terrified reflection staring back at you. It’s as blurry as the picture of your face in a still ocean’s water, your wide eyes staring back at yourself.

The red glasses are all you can see. Round with a black rim. Silver would have looked better on him, or maybe even gold. The black reminds you of an endless pit, a sinister embrace of vampire stereotypes, but you can’t look away from the maroon that won’t allow you even a glimpse into his eyes. They are shielding him from the world, and his eyes from curious, stupid humans like you.

He nods toward the ground. “You gonna pick that up?” he asks. His voice reminds you of rumbling gravel.

He looks like a man. He talks like a man. If you didn’t know better, you would say he is human. There seems to be blood in his cheeks and air in his lungs.

You have to pull yourself together. Clearing your throat, you bend down and pick the book back up.

“Thank you,” he utters your name. “It’s been a while since I’ve received visitors that don’t work for me.”

You put the book back on the shelf. Your lips are sewn shut; you can’t find the words. Every time you open your mouth like a fish on dry land, you close it again, and it is embarrassing to be standing in front of him with your guard down.

“Welcome to my home,” he says. You wish you could see his eyes to know if he’s mocking you. “Do you want a drink, or do you need another minute to process?”

He is mocking you. His tone is gentle, as is his voice, but he smirks like a smug motherfucker, and your anger boils to a tipping point. The candle is about to burn out.

“I–” you stammer. Internally, you curse yourself for being such a fool.

“Another minute it is then.”

You don’t need a minute though. “You’re blind,” you blurt out.

The beautiful—deadly—stranger nods. “Yeah.“

“How?”

“Accident when I was a kid.”

“But you’re…” you leave the missing part of that sentence hanging in the air like a noose.

“Say it,” he murmurs. You want to say it sounds like a growl, but you’re not sure. He isn’t asserting dominance or trying to force you into submission by scaring you away, but he is toying with you regardless.

You take a deep breath. The word, the truth, numbers your tongue and your lips with its weight. “A vampire,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, matching his.

His smirk broadens. He pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek for a moment, then releases it as it darts out to wet his bottom lip. “I’m a blind vampire, yes,” he answers. “We’re rare, but we do exist.”

Blind vampires. In all of your years of fascination, that has never crossed your mind. You used to believe that they had healing abilities that far exceeded your own. You were wrong. He lost his eyesight before he got turned into a vampire. He lived as a blind human being and didn’t regain his most crucial sense when he died.

He came back to life, but he died. It is surreal to stand across from him. He’s not just letters on a piece of paper, he is very much real. And he’s blind.

“Oh, my God,” you curse.

That elicits a soft chuckle from him. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t come,” he says.

“I was considering not to.”

He sees right through you with those empty glasses. “That’s a lie.”

“How would you know?” you counter.

“I can hear your heartbeat. The blood pumping in your veins…” His head tilts ever so slightly in your direction. You take a step back. It’s an instinct. “Your pulse picks up when you lie, or when you’re nervous, or both,” he states. “When you first saw me, your heart skipped a beat. It did again when you lied to me.”

Your eyes trail down to his thick thighs perfectly fitted in his tailored trousers. His thick digits pat the rhythm with his fingers on the fabric. Thud-thudthudthud-thud. You place a hand on your chest. He wasn’t wrong; your heart is racing.

His smirk turns into a smile, but only briefly again. It’s a glimpse of humanity he doesn’t want you to see. “I like that sound,” he says. “Has anyone ever told you that you smell good? Sweet, sour, and a little salty. Natural. You don’t use a lot of artificial perfume, but you like cherry chapstick.”

You swallow, taking a whiff of your arm. Besides your deodorant masking the scent of your nervous sweat, you smell nothing. How good must his nose be? His hearing? His sense of taste?

“Right now, sweat is dripping down your back, and your muscles are tense enough to strain against your bones every time you breathe. Your heart just skipped a beat again. You find it weird,” he muses. “I can’t turn it off, but I get it must be strange for you.”

“You–” The blood has collected in your head, pushing the temperature in the room to an all-time high. “Get out of my body!” you snap.

He laughs. “That’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear.”

“And I never thought you would ask for an audience with me, but here we are.”

“Here you are.”

You want nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face. He looks so smug, standing there with his drink, wearing a suit too fancy for his own home. He’s fully in his element. It’s scary how alluring he is, too. You don’t want to think that way, but as soon as your eyes gaze upon him again, your chest contracts, and you forget how to breathe.

He’s a wolf, and you’re a lonely little sheep that doesn’t know any better. That lonely little sheep just wants to be a part of something bigger, even if that means surrendering herself to the big bad wolf. He wants a taste of her, and the sheep would give him that in a heartbeat if he just asked.

You blink. There is a voice in your head, and it isn’t your own. Far from it. You don’t want to be associated with this stranger. She thinks she knows you. She thinks she knows what you want—the sheep in the eyes of her natural enemy. This voice is the most irrational you could be, and you need to stop letting her win.

And yet you—not just the voice of the lonely sheep you appear to be—would follow this man anywhere, even to hell if he asked you to.

Your eyes drill knives into his skull, but they are also full of curiosity. Can he hear your thoughts? Your heart beats in your throat. You can taste it on your tongue. If you bit your lip, you would bleed, and he would probably fall into a frenzy. Still, your teeth dig into your bottom lip. What if he can hear your thoughts—hear how fucking needy you are? You’re pathetic. What he must think of you, standing across from him, smaller than human life itself.

You want to read him, but he is far from an open book. He’s not Braille you can run your fingers over, and even if he was, you don’t know how to read it. He’s an enigma. His face is set in stone; an iron mask you can’t penetrate.

His chest heaves with another chuckle. He sets the crystal glass down on the coffee table, taking a step forward. “No, I can’t read your mind,” he says.

You flinch. “What?”

“Your breathing pattern. The way you look at me. I can sense that you’re thinking about something.” He adjusts his glasses. “It’s just… Most humans ask me if I can read their minds, you know. I can’t. Some vampires can, but my senses are the only heightened ability I have.” This time, when he chuckles, a hint of bitterness dances in his voice.

“At least you’re not in my head then,” you say.

“No.”

“Good.”

A pregnant pause follows. You clutch your bag to your chest, your fingers digging into the frame of your hidden laptop.

“Can I offer you a drink?” he asks, pointing to his empty glass.

You wave him off. That’s the last thing on your mind. “No, thank you.”

Sometimes at night, you fantasize about diving into the abyss of darkness. It looks and sounds a terrifying lot like him. You want to know him. You need to know him. When it comes to him and this—whatever this is—the lines between want and need are blurring into an unidentifiable mess. It’s an ocean of emotions with no land in sight. A total eclipse of the heart, if you will. You’re losing your mind.

“What you can do–” You straighten your shoulder, hoping it will add height to your beaten confidence. “You can tell me your name. Sir,” you say.

He nods. “I suppose it would only be fair, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, it would.”

“Matthew. My name’s Matthew.” The softness of his features as his lips move to the rhythm of his words takes you back anew. His eyebrows raise slightly, and you catch a glimpse of a pair of beautiful, unfocused hazel eyes that steal your breath away.

Matthew. It is a name that easily rolls off the tongue. It suits him.

You repeat his name aloud. “That’s an odd name for a 200-something-year-old man,” you point out.

Matthew scoffs. “My parents were both Catholic.”

“I suppose you’re not?”

You hit a sore spot. His head dips, fingers running over his nails and tongue tracing his teeth. “Not anymore,” he says.

God died for him a long time ago, and all churches burned down.

Your grip on your bag loosens. “Then why Daredevil?” you ask.

His lips part. “I, uh, have the Bulletin to thank for that one. After centuries of existing in this world, and being despised for no matter what I do, I’ve decided to embrace it. I am Daredevil, not even God can stop that now.”

Matt grabs his glass, turning away from you. He doesn’t use a cane to navigate from the couch to the mini bar on the other end of the room. You carefully follow his movements. One of his hands remains at his side, snapping his fingers as he navigates the familiar terrain of his home.

He uncaps a half-empty bottle of Whiskey to pour himself another glass.

“You know, Matthew,” you prompt, daring to step forward an inch, “as big as your reputation is in this part of the city, Silver Lining is not the kind of magazine that would cover your story.”

“You still came,” he says.

“I could lose my job if anyone knew I came here.”

“And yet you’re here and not where you should be.” He turns his head over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t risk losing your job if it wasn’t important to you, would you?”

You stammer, “I–” He’s got you. You’re a fish with a hook in her mouth.

“If Silver Lining Magazine won’t cover my story, why are you here?” Matt turns back to you, leaning back against the shiny Mahagoni of his minibar. It offers a beautiful contrast to his strong physique and the slight paleness of his skin. “Could it be because you’re fascinated by the mythic?” he asks, teasing. “By werewolves and witches and vampires?”

It’s your turn to scoff. “I won’t confirm or deny. My boss wouldn’t let me write a vampire vigilante exposé even if I begged him to.”

“And that’s why Mr. Doherty doesn’t deserve you.” Your body visibly recoils when he pushes forward, moving just an inch toward you. “Your curiosity is a virtue,” he purrs. The moonlight sets your reflection in his glasses alight.

“Is that why you lured me here?” you ask him. “Because my curiosity is a virtue and you consider yourself better than the people in my life?”

“I didn’t lure you here, and I think you know that. That’s not what this is.” The distance between you starts to shrink, backing you into a corner. “I believe you came here because the thought of interviewing a vampire and sharing your findings with the world on your account excites you,” he says. “You want to be heard. You want to be taken seriously as a journalist, and you want to make people happy.”

The only way for you to come out of this with your pride and dignity still intact is to put up walls before the already existent labyrinth of walls keeping your heart guarded and your soul safe. “Again,” you ask, “why me?”

“Why not you? As I stated in my letter, I’m a fan of your work.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, about that. How did you write that if you’re blind?”

“I didn’t, my secretary did.”

“Of course.” Of course, he has a secretary. “I… I just don’t get it,” you say. “You’ve been hiding for so long–”

Matt cuts you off with an urgency you didn’t expect, “Things have changed. Circumstances…” he trails off.

“Wouldn’t it be a suicide mission?”

His answer is silence. You let out an exasperated sigh. “If you want me to interview you, you have to be honest with me.”

“I’m not on the record yet.”

“Right. Maybe you can answer this though—off the record, of course—how can you be certain I didn’t call the cops or the FBI before I came here?”

His eyes crinkle. “I’m not stupid, sweetheart,” he says.

He’s amused. You’re amusing him.

“Don’t call me that,” you growl.

He’s spreading you open, holding up a mirror for you to look into. It’s your miserable self in all its glory, and he knows you better than you know yourself.

You ignore the sharp pain in your left ribcage as you pull the arrow out of your heart. “Unless someone holds up a sign that they are pro-vampirism, how would you even know I’d listen to you and not just refer you to the Journal of Psychiatry?”

“Are you telling me you don’t believe in vampires?” Matt quips.

“That’s not… Answer my question!”

The sound of your heartbeat must sound almost like the rapid firing of a machine gun, that’s how fast your pulse is racing. Your veins threaten to burst with the excess blood. It’s a heat like no other. You’re a witch at the stake, and Matt is holding the torch to your gasoline-doused body.

He clears his throat. Your face falls at the words that tumble out of his parted lips, and the rapid firing turns into a deafening silence and a monotone line on a heart monitor.

“After what I’ve learned from reading Dr. Rice’s research on the phenomena of vampirism, I can confidently say this species is no different than an animal like the great white shark or the Homo sapiens sapiens—our kind,” he recites. “Vampires are a medium of fiction and propaganda to induce fear, but they are also a widely misunderstood species that is being silenced rather than heard. Our species, the human species, likes to consider themselves superior, even when we’re in a position of being someone’s natural food source. Dr. Rice’s research is based on a comprehensible set of facts, and isn’t that what we have been relying on ever since the beginning? Our psychology makes it possible for us to change the narrative in our favor, and more often than not, we ignore the very facts deemed by humans as an intellectual importance to spread the message of an entirely different agenda. Dr. Rice’s research only proves that egotism and humans themselves will be humankind's certain downfall.”

“My investigative journalism essay,” you breathe out.

“Published by Columbia University.”

Your heart restarts with a rush of adrenaline. “How… how do you know all of this?”

“I may be blind,” Matt says, “but I know how to read between the lines.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

The alcohol in his drink seems to have little effect on him. “I know you have questions, and I’m willing to answer them if you promise to publish a detailed report somewhere other than Silver Lining Magazine.”

You look down at your bag, then back at him. “Ben Urich could have told your story in a way that would’ve made people listen,” you murmur. “I don’t have an impressive career like him.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, “but you could have easily written ‘Attack on NYC’. Ben was a good man, an even better journalist, but he could not have written your college essay. And he could never have been you.”

Your name rolls off his tongue—not a pretentious nickname that makes you want to vomit but your name, and it flicks a switch within you.

You glance around the spacious living, pulling your laptop out of its confines, and you bridge the distance between you, finally. You notice he smells of sandalwood cologne and scentless soap. “Okay,” you cave. “Where do you want me to set up?”

Session 1.

The spacebar clicks underneath the tip of your index finger. The white of your screen fills with a series of red sequences as the microphone takes in every little sound around you. Except for the two of you and the fading footsteps of one of Matthew’s assistants though, the world has fallen silent in the dead of the night. He’s sitting across from you, legs crossed, head tilted; your life is about to change.

“So, Mister Murdock,” you begin, “tell me. How long have you been dead?”

His mouth opens in a wide grin. “242 years,” he answers.

“And what happened the year you died?”

“Well, it was 1782. I was a good few years out of law school. I was a good lawyer, but I wasn’t successful. That year, I met a beautiful woman at a banquet. I wasn’t rich—trust me, I was beyond penniless—but she had been adopted into a wealthy family, and that made her one of the richest women in the room. Everyone wanted her, but when I sensed her across the hall, she only had eyes for me. And she was the first woman to not see me just because I was blind.” He chuckles sadly. “I thought she was the woman of my dreams, the love of my life, but a few weeks later, after letting her into my life, I realized that she didn’t look at me that night because she was interested. She was hunting me. El— Miss Elektra Natchios…”

The year 1782 becomes apparent before your inner eye. As he tells you about the night he met her, you can see the dark-haired beauty making her way across the ballroom. Red lips and a gown to die for. Her dark eyes were full of mischief, but the passion in them could have knocked a grown man off of his feet. And that is just what she did to poor Matthew.

“I was going to marry her,” he tells you.

He went to church regularly. His knees were bloody from praying, his senses already heightened before he died. God’s soldier, that is how he puts it. He was told that the accident that left him blind happened for a reason, and he had to fight a war that went beyond the country’s fight for independence.

That summer, Elektra drained him. He didn’t know what she was. She fooled him. He was obsessed with her. Her dark eyes he couldn’t see lured her in, and it was the venom in her blood that became his downfall after she dug her teeth into him.

Matt tried to beg his priest for forgiveness, but he didn’t even make it past the marble stairs before the doors locked. He knelt in a pool of blood—both his and that of the first human he ever sucked dry to survive as a newborn vampire—offering an eternal sacrifice to Catholicism, but God abandoned him on his doorstep.

The church walls would have been set on fire if he had touched them from the inside.

You look up from your notepad to find him now standing at the window. He’s not looking out, of course, but he seems so deep in thought, the memories that aren’t your own but his start to dissipate, and you’re brought back to the here and now.

Matt poured his heart out to you. You expected answers, but not this kind, and certainly not of this magnitude. You see him in an entirely different light. He’s vulnerable, fragile, and human. He has endured trauma that killed him, but he couldn’t die because the woman he loved made him immortal. It’s a bigger curse than growing up with the belief that an accident made you God’s soldier.

He lost everything. For centuries, he has had to live with that. It’s killing you, feeling his pain, the pure agony that radiates off him.

Your voice is quiet when you ask him, “What was it like?” You don’t have to say it out loud for him to know what you are referencing.

Matt chuckles, the sound a mere breath in the atmosphere. “Like she took my soul from my body, setting fire to my belief system and already heightened senses,” he says.

You swallow. “That sounds… overstimulating.”

“It was. Is. My heart stopped, but when that happened, something else awoke inside me. The hunger… the hunger was the worst part. It’s insatiable. One hour passes, and you feel like you’ve been starving for weeks.”

“Like you’ve been possessed by a demon?”

“Like I am the demon.”

“But you’re not.” You should stop the recording. You’re not on track; you’re incorporating your feelings into Matt’s story, but you can’t help it. The words tumble out of your mouth without a second thought, a train that cannot be stopped.

He raises his eyebrows, you can see it in his reflection in the windows. “Are you religious?” he asks.

You shake your head. “This isn’t about me.”

“Are you?”

The veins on the back of his hands bulge as he balls them to fists at his sides. Your throat is a desert, and your heartbeat resembles a storm that burns right through it, sending the sand flying in all directions of the horizon.

You adjust in your seat, crossing one leg over the other. He takes a whiff. He’s smelling you, and that doesn’t help the speed of your pulse to calm down.

Tapping your pen on your notepad, you watch the red sequences fill the white space of the recording program. It moves with the sound of your voice when you finally dare to answer. “It’s a complicated question because there is a difference between believing in God and believing in the church,” you say.

“Do you believe in God then?” Matt asks. It’s as though he’s trying not to seethe at the mere mention of someone he used to worship. You make a note of that.

“There is so much bad in this world. So much cruelty. I can’t…” You take a deep breath. “I don’t know how to believe in a God that would let the things humans do to each other happen. If God existed—if he was as merciful as Christians like to claim, he wouldn’t let this happen. And I’m so sick and tired of people using their faith, and their beliefs in God and the church as justification to be disrespectful. I don’t understand it. How can anyone? Why is someone who has to drink blood to stay alive—someone who didn’t even choose this life—worth less and the devil’s breed when humans do worse things to each other? Why would God allow us to start wars that kill innocent people? Children? It’s just not fair that we treat ourselves and others as though we are already in hell, and we’re just supposed to accept that God doesn’t care—” You stop yourself, the tears burning behind your eyes.

Matt turns back around. You can’t look away. “When I was still human,” he murmurs, “I used to believe everything that happened to me was God’s will. The accident, God’s will. Me going blind, God’s will. I went to confession, prayed until my knees were bloody and bruised. I tried convincing myself that every scream I heard from down the block, every person who lost their life or their innocence was my responsibility. God made me this way for a reason, right?” The scoff is as bitter as the liquor in his glass. “I fell apart, you know. I was a kid, so I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand what was happening to me,” he tells you.

You hold your breath. The glasses slip from his eyes as he takes them off with shaky fingers. You are met with the most beautiful pair of hazel eyes. Emotions dance a heated tango in a tornado. If you look closer, the green specks bring life to his eyes. It’s human nature in the purest sense of the word.

Your reflection stands in his irises, his unmoving pupils, and the tears glisten in his eyes. They’re as red as blood, watered-down crimson essence. You want to reach out and stroke his cheek, but that would be crossing a very big line that you can’t bring yourself up to touch.

“I studied law because I thought it would change something,” he continues. You listen. It’s the only thing you can do—listen. “It wasn’t enough. Nothing I ever did felt like it was enough. I lost my father. Jack. I didn’t know my mother until it was too late. Maggie. I had no one. No money, no prospects, just me and those voices in my head, telling me I was supposed to be God’s soldier.”

“You’re not,” you cut in.

He shakes his head. “I prayed; I crawled up the stairs of the church, and I spent hours repenting for my sins. I bled myself dry for Him. I sacrificed myself. I sacrificed my youth, my heart, and my soul, and I got nothing back. I begged for help until my voice was sore, but nothing… God, nothing was ever good enough. Until Elektra came around,” he says.

“She changed everything for you. It makes sense. She turned you into a vampire, but she also loved you.”

“She did love me, in her own twisted way.”

“It’s what you deserved,” you say.

He isn’t yours, but the pang you feel in your chest is treacherous. Your heart cracks like a porcelain vase, jealousy creeping in like a parasite of toxic waste.

In response, Matt only chuckles bitterly. “She made me believe again, then took my soul and crushed it in her hand.” The correction makes your shoulders slump. “Instead of feeling like my world ended though, I felt at peace when she sucked the blood out of my veins and fed me her venom,” he says. “It’s sick, I know. I was aware I died that night, that she turned me into a devil who could only survive if he drank the blood of others. The Catholic in me struggled to accept it, but I had no choice but to embrace what she made me.”

“And where is she now?” you ask.

“Gone.” The light in his eyes has fully disappeared now. “I stayed with her for a while until she died in my arms. She showed me what love is, and she showed me heartbreak. She made me hungry for blood, awakening the devil I’ve been trying to tame. She taught me how to feed, how to hunt, and how to chase. But she also cursed me,” he says. “I only exist for myself now. I only bleed for myself. No God, no church, and no more religion. I’m not Jesus, I’m Judas, and I retired the cross the day I was crucified.”

You have run out of questions to ask. Too overwhelming is the sight of his walls crumbling down, this stranger you now know better than any living being seems to. You no longer see money in this, or a story to chase, you only see Matthew, and the halo above his head he still believes is a pair of horns. The world broke him. His faith in God broke him. It crushed him, and he lost everything. How broken he must be.

“Not such a pretty story when I say it out loud, huh?” He scoffs.

The spacebar clicks again. The recording comes to a sudden halt. One hour and fifty-eight minutes, the first session of your interview with the vampire. You need to put a halt to it now because what you are about to say or do as you reach your hand out to brush his cold, dead skin is not something that should be found on a record. And you won’t ever tell.

Matt pulls away when your warm fingertips brush his. You’re standing across from him now, so close he can smell, hear, and feel all of you at once.

Your touch is the holy water that burns his skin, but the fire sustains him and shoots straight to his core the same way the blood rushes to yours.

“It’s not a pretty story, no,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, “but it did tell me what I already knew.”

“And what’s that?” he asks.

“That you’re not evil. You’re not the Devil. You’re misunderstood. You’ve been beaten; you’ve been abandoned, hurt, and broken. That doesn’t make you a monster. Trying to make this city a better place does not make you a monster.”

“If you only knew the things I’ve done…”

“I know the rumors suggest that you were the one who fought Wilson Fisk and got this city back where it needed to be. You’ve saved countless women from the worst of fates. You are the reason the innocent people of Hell’s Kitchen feel safe. By picking up that mask, you became a hero, not a villain, and that is the story I want to tell.”

In lightspeed, he has moved you from the window to the other end of the room. Your back hits the wall.

Matt towers over you in all of his intimidating glory. His eyes spark red, but you hold his unfocused gaze. He has such beautiful eyes. This pull between you is far from human; it’s unhealthy, and it is exactly where he wanted to get you. You’re trapped, pinned underneath him like a deer caught in headlights.

Exhaling, your breath strokes his cheeks. He closes his eyes, savoring the taste of you. Every particle in the air, he inhales. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. Oh, what you wouldn’t do to suck that tongue into your mouth.

Your pheromones play his head like a puppeteer pulling the strings of his marionette. He growls. “Do you have any idea how dangerous I am?”

The moonlight catches his sparkling white teeth. This time though, you come face to face with the sharp edges of his previously concealed fangs. Your jaw drops open. He’s ethereal.

“I could snap your neck—” Matt places his hand on your neck, “I could make that heart stop beating, take the air from your lungs. I could eat you…” He traces the vein in your throat from your jaw to your collarbone. “I could bite you and suck your blood until you’re empty. I could kill you, sweetheart. My kind is your natural enemy. You shouldn’t be here.”

You shudder. His nose brushes the sensitive skin below your ear. He’s so close you can smell him. On inhale, and his scent consumes your senses. He is all you can feel now. You reach out to hold onto his arms, his muscles tensing under your teeth. He’s big and strong, and those hands have a mind of their own as they begin to wander but never where you need him most.

You shouldn’t be here, yet you came. He asked you to him, and you complied. Is this your fate now? Chasing after your big bad wolf like the helpless sheep that you are?

Your walls clench around an agonizing emptiness, your swollen clit brushing against your soaked underwear. Whatever he is doing to you, it’s the cruelest form of torture.

A strangled noise breaks out of the back of his throat, rumbling in his chest. “You have no idea how badly I want to taste you,” he breathes.

“Do it,” you beg. “Taste me.”

He utters your name again. “Stop.”

“Please.”

Your tone shatters him. When he kisses you, finally, fireworks explode in the universe around you. All the stars seem to finally align. Your heart opens, and it sucks him right into you. Your soul yearns for him. He’s so close yet so far away.

The moon stands between you, but you cross even that ocean as you push against him, forcing your tongue into his mouth. He takes like heaven and hell; he’s the apple Eve bit into and cursed her for all eternity. But he’s also the snake, the one who compelled you to take this journey of bad decisions and jump right off the cliff’s edge. You melt into him like a broken candle.

He pulls away. Those fangs are alluring, as sharp as a knife’s tip. You want to know what it would feel like gracing your skin, digging into your as he thrusts his cock into your tight cunt. The thought alone sends your mind into a spiral.

Your lips are swollen, but he has yet to draw blood. Matt looks as though he wouldn’t dare, his eyes darting around in a darkened conflict he feels might cost him more than your dignity. You are begging for it, as is your body, but he’s holding himself back. He’s the one who tied himself to an invisible pillar, keeping his hands locked behind his back. But that is not the Matt you want.

You lean your head to the side, exposing the length of his neck. All control has slipped from your fingers. It’s in his hands now—you are. He cups your head gently. A mere few inches lie between your fountain and his lips.

You press a kiss to his calloused palm—a desperate and needy kiss, tracing your tongue over the lines that tell his life’s story in a way no interview can retell—and it is then he is forever done for. He’s doomed, and you are the second woman to pull him under the pits of hell.

Saliva drips from his fangs. You hold your breath. He hisses, a weak admission of surrender; the words die miserably on your tongue when his lips close around your pulse point with all his might, and his teeth drive home.

You moan aloud. Your fingers tangle in his hair, forcing him deeper as he sucks the dark red essence out of your vein. The sensation is more than you bargained for. It’s a drug that wrecks your system. The synapses in your brain backfire with all their might, and what follows the initial explosion of pleasure shooting white hot through your being is complete and utter silence as this God of a man feeds on you.

The invisible string between you glows a bright crimson. It slings around you, tying you together like the roots of a tree. It’s an eternal sacrifice. You are giving your all to him, the very core of your existence that is now flowing into his mouth. You swear you can hear his thoughts mingle with yours. Yes, more, please. You taste so good. Your knees buckle, but you remain standing strong. He makes sure you don’t fall. Don’t slip away from me. I need you.

A tear rolls down your cheek. You could sob. It feels so good—too good to be true. In that moment, you become one. There is no telling where one begins and the other ends. The coil in your stomach tightens, and the only pain you feel is the pleasure threatening to overwhelm you. He’s taking everything as you give him everything, but it is not enough. It has never been enough.

When your body struggles to catch up with the lack of blood, he pulls away. His fangs drag out of your neck agonizingly slowly. You whimper at the sudden loss.

Matt catches you as you stumble into his arms. “You okay?” He cradles your face, brushing the hair out of your face. Your blood stains his lips. Blinking up at him, the force of your metaphysical connection slaps you awake.

You cease to exist in all solar systems but his.

He pokes the tip of his index finger with the sharp edge of one tooth, sliding it over the two holes that are pulsating with the work of your heartbeat.

“I shouldn’t have—” he begins.

“No,” you say. “You did exactly what you should have.”

“I couldn’t stop.”

“But you did.” You wipe the blood from his mouth. “And I felt you. I only felt you.”

The living room passes by you. Before you know it, your back lands on something much softer than a concrete wall. He’s not a monster, that one, but he surely is an animal.

You taste your blood on Matt’s luscious lips as he devours your tongue. It tastes of copper and a little bitter, but that is what makes him moan. That sound is the last thing you could ever grow tired of.

His palm rests on your chest. Your heart pounds against his palm. “You’re so alive,” he says.

You cradle his face in your hands. “And you’re more human than you think.”

If he wanted to pull your heart out and hold it, you would let him in a heartbeat.

He leans you back. He strips you bare. He kisses down your body like you are a fucking masterpiece for him to explore. That is how he sees you.

Your head falls back. The kisses wander from your hips to the inside of your thighs. Every kiss brings his breath closer to your center. Matt pulls them apart. He opens you up to him. Your scent clouds his senses, and he groans, but he doesn’t touch.

His fangs graze your skin. “Mine,” he growls.

You gasp. He bites into the sensitive flesh. Hard, passionately. Your legs wrap around his head, trapping him there. He sucks, and he sucks, and he drinks, and the wetness pools out of your cunt in an obscene amount. This is foreplay to him. It drives you toward the edge leading to an abyss you are afraid you might never be able to crawl back out of. There is no bottom, it is just a pit, and he’s pushing you closer and closer, and—

Your back arches, but he pulls away before the coil can snap into a million butterflies. He pries your legs away from his head, spreading them further on the mattress, as far apart as they will go.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner have been served on a silver platter. He breathes in. The scent of your soaked pussy sticks to the hairs in his nose. It isn’t enough. He breathes in again, your arousal sweeter than fiction. You’re everything and more. He wants to taste that part of you more than anything, suck up the slick that is soaking the sheets—and you didn’t even think that was possible—but he waits because he needs to savor it. He doesn’t want it to be over too soon. neither for him nor for you.

The blood is still dripping from his tongue and his fangs, and the raw inside of your thigh. He runs his finger through it. The sting runs from the wound to your folds, then back down. Still, he doesn’t touch. He plays with the blood, sucking on his fingers until they’re clean, and then he dives back in for a taste. He doesn’t bite, he kisses and sucks, but he doesn’t push it further. He doesn’t hurt you.

You’re his saving grace; he has to worship you. Pain only has a place in pleasure.

“Matthew,” you moan.

He chuckles, kissing where his fangs left deep indentations. “No one will ever touch you again,” he purrs. “I’ll make sure of that.”

You try to protest, but the words die on your tongue when he leans in, capturing your clit with his hungry mouth. The wound on your thigh closes. The blood from his lips mixes with your juices, and you cry out at the intensity of it all.

He eats you with the ferocity of a man starved for weeks. He eats your pussy like he ate your blood, savoring every drop but still feasting for the taste to spread out in his mouth like wildfire. Sour, sweet, and copper. He sucks your sensitive clit into his mouth. His tongue drags through your folds, up and down, and then the tip slides inside, tasting your walls. He grows bolder as your moans accelerate.

Matt cradles your thighs. He forces your hips back down to the mattress, stronger than the average human man. You have to endure his beard scratching and burning, and the pace he has set.

The orgasm creeps up on you. Before you know it, he has plunged his tongue into you, and your body convulses around him. You scream into a pillow as you come.

You are each other’s forbidden fruit. No prayer in the world could keep you apart.

Faintly, you can hear him say, “Good girl.” Your legs quiver. He pulls away, then comes right back like a boomerang.

He’s warm now. He was cold before, but when he kisses you this time, he’s warm. He’s hot. You run your hands over his bare chest, the scars that lie under the dark strands of hair. You tug at it, and he moans. You can tell he is a little insecure, but by pressing your lips to one of the cuts on his shoulder, he relaxes.

What he must have endured, what he must have lived through before he died and was resurrected in the same breath, just without a beating heart—you don’t want to think about it or you will break, but you can still feel him through the crimson tie that holds you together, and you know that he has suffered enough for more than two lifetimes. You wish you could take it all away from him. You wish you could have saved him before it was too late, loved him more than the woman who turned him, but turning back time is an impossibility. You are both acutely aware of that.

“Hey.” Matt tilts your head toward him. “Where did you just go?” he asks.

“Thinking about you,” you murmur.

“Me?”

“You.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to be your salvation.”

You. His salvation. He kisses you, softly this time. He pours gratitude into his lips and bleeds them out in poetry as they slide into your mouth, and you swallow every last drop.

If someone had told you a week ago where you would see yourself on that particular Monday, you would have laughed at them. And if someone had told you a week ago that you would be making love to the devil, you would have called them crazy. But it’s happening.

He thrusts into you without a warning. His thick cock fills you like nothing and no one ever has before. Your cunt has been molded to fit him, you’re sure. You take him in, and you moan at the stretch. It’s a pain so delicious you could fall apart right then and there just from the feel of him inside you.

Every thrust drags the tip of his cock along your sweet spot. Every added sensation drives you closer to your death.

Your body tingles. He explores your face with his lips rather than his fingers, moving to your neck again. You cling to him, oh-so-desperate for him. He likes you like that, and you like him like that.

“You’re fucking with my head,” he tells you. “Offering your pussy to a vampire. Letting me drink your blood. Begging me to fuck you. You’re in my head, baby. Can’t get you out of my system. Fuck.”

You are his downfall, his salvation, but he is all of those things to you as well—all of those things and more. If he could read your mind, you would tell him that. Words can’t do justice to how you feel. Not right now, maybe not ever.

“Bite me again,” you beg.

His thrusts falter. He searches your body for any sign of regret. His fangs come out, and he buries them deep in your jugular vein. The floodgates open wide. Your walls clench around his cock, your clit pulsates, and the wave crashes into you.

You come as he devours your neck and your blood. You transcend into another dimension, far away from everything and everyone but never him. Never Matthew.

The sensation of you wraps around him like a weighted blanket. His balls tighten, your blood unfolding its taste on his tongue. You are all over him, inside of him, everywhere at once. He falls head-first, dragging you down with him.

He comes with a shout that is only muffled through his teeth buried in your flesh, his cum spurting into you and filling your cunt to the brim. Your eyes roll back. You’re flying and falling all at once.

Oh, how good it feels to be consumed by him. To be fucked and sucked dry. You would have never expected this to come out of your week, let alone your life, but now that it has happened, you are floating on cloud nine.

Dizziness threatens to take over, but before you can pass out, he forces himself away, allowing your heart to catch up with the lack of blood in your system. He collapses on top of you. His cock softens, but he stays inside. You need him there. You want him there. And that is the only place he wants to rest tonight.

He heals the wounds on your neck. “You have a mark,” Matt rasps, tracing your skin with his finger.

You choke out, “Yours.”

“Yes, you are.” He kisses you there. Once, twice, even a third time. “Mine,” he says.

You’re his. He’s yours. It doesn’t get any better than this.

The minutes tick away on the obnoxious clock on the wall. Matt pulls out eventually, wrapping you up in a blanket. He coaxes you to drink, but you’re barely lucid. Only when he begins to stroke your hair you start coming back to yourself. You thought you might regret it, but as you look at him, his almost guilty eyes staring back at you, all you can do is reach out for him.

“Session two tomorrow?” you ask.

He chuckles and retorts, “Have I not scared you away?” There is some truth to it though.

He’s covered in your blood. It sticks to his lips, his hands, and his chest. It’s sickeningly intimate, in a way.

You shake your head in response. “You could not possibly.”

He listens to your heartbeat. You’re as honest as they come.

“Okay,” Matt says. “Session two tomorrow then.”

That night, you fell in love with the Devil, but he also fell in love with you, his angel in the form of a reckless journalist, and the only blood he ever wants to taste again until the end of his miserable, cursed days.

Matt Murdock (Smut) Tag List: @shouldbestudying41 @theradioactivespidergwen @cheshirecat484 @1988-fiend @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-girl-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #vampire!matt murdock #matt murdock angst #daredevil #x reader #interview with the vampire #charlie cox #alternate universe #reader insert

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iwrotetheilliad · 1 year

Text

3AM

♡ Sae is mad. You’re a stubborn bitch. Put that together and that equals hate fuck

Genre: P WITHOUT P ;) also a little fluff at the end

CW: Oh lord there’s quite a bit. The biggest one is def that this entire situation is a bit toxic cuz y’all are flirting in a fight. Ig u could think of it as cheating, but I don’t so. SAE IS A BITCH. He also calls u a bitch so be warned that he is mean af. Also degradation. Slapping, hair pulling, clothes getting ripped off is also there. No prep as well. Unprotected sex babes. Theirs is also mentions of hickies and heavy making out. Sae manhandles you a bit. THAT SHOULD BE ALL THE TRIGGERING CONTENT MATERIAL BUT BE WARNED THAT THIS IS SMUT SO PLS PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!

Characters: Sae Itoshi

A/N: thé sae brain rot has been BAD. Like there was so much in my head, so this fic is honestly just like, a small portion of the smutty thoughts and hcs I’ve had. I’ll probably write more if this does well!

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sae demands.

“Oh please,” you scoff, tossing your black clutch purse onto the bed. “There is nothing wrong with me, she had it coming.”

You whip your head around to face your husband. He stands in the doorway, his white shirt slightly unbuttoned, letting some of his collar bone peak out at you. Anger and jealousy flood throughout your body again at the thought of what that cunt did. You can practically see the line she traced with her nail across Sae’s neck. To get back at her, you had pretended to bump into her, practically tossing you wine all over her. It was a shame honestly- because of her inability to take a hint, her pristine white dress left the body with a giant wine stain adorning her side. Good thing you wore a black dress. It just looked like someone’s spilt water on you.

still the way you spilled the wine was very obvious. What can you say? Acting’s never been your strong suit. People were bound to notice, and although no one said it to your face, it’s obvious that they knew you’d done it on purpose.

it’s fine, after all, if they were in your situation they would’ve done the same.

“Y/N,” Sae groaned tearing off his overcoat. “You can’t just ruin-”

“The dress was ruined the moment it touched her skin.”

“You are fucking horrible.”

“No, Sae! You know what’s horrible? You did absolutely nothing to stop her!” You shout storming towards him.

“Oh shut up, yes I did,” he replies, shoving past you.

“Oh I’m sure that tent you have in your pants was trying very hard to shove her away from you,” you roll your eyes, pursuing him.

You knew right know was not the time, but Sae’s back looked very nice in that shirt. It hugged his muscles in all the right ways.

“Are you insane?” He growls, spinning around to stare you down. You didn’t back down though, sizing up to his gaze.

“I fucking wish,” you say just as lowly. “Look, it’s still there.”

You cast your eyes down to where his dick was in fact pressing up against his pants. It looked uncomfortable, and if the night had gone any better, you would’ve loved to help him, but right now, sex did not seem anywhere within your near future.

“You’re actually fucking mental,” Sae rolls his eyes, straightening himself out. “I cannot stand you when your like this.”

“You can’t stand me?!”

“No!”

“Sae! She was flirting with you. That bitch was unashamed and practically choking you in the middle of the hall!” You scream. “You are so frustrating sometimes. You cannot say that you can’t stand me, when you’re like this!”

“Like what?”

Hot.

“Oblivious.”

“Better than being a jealous bitch.”

“The fuck did you just call me?” You ask, stalking towards him like you’re about to pounce on your prey.

Sae didn’t move, just stared down into your eyes as you two came chest to chest.

“You heard me,” he muttered hotly.

From being this close, you can see something you weren’t able to recognize just moments ago. Sae’s pupils had blown up, almost completely block the aqua of his irises. His breath was hot against your face, and his lips were such a pretty pink-red color. His hair was pushed off to the side, making him look so much more handsome than he did normally. It was all so much, and you couldn’t tell if the sudden feeling in your blood was lust, anger, or a weird mix of both.

“Fucking try saying that shit again,” you mutter lowly.

He shivers. “You are such a fucking bitch.”

His hands slowly traces curves through the skintight fabric. They travel up your ass to the small of your back, and then slide back down to the swell of your ass. He offers a light squeeze, before leaning over you.

“You,” he begins, “are such a jealous. Fucking. Bitch.”

You hands move on their own accord, shoving Sae back onto the bed. Shock doesn’t last long in him though, because just moments later, you’re falling on top of him. Your arms wrap around his neck, and the swell of his dick is pressing against panties you wear underneath this dress. His hands stop balancing himself, and he reaches up to drag them all over your body. He starts rubbing them over your back, before moving down to your ass. He gropes them unabashedly now, guiding them over his crotch. His left one stays leading your ministrations, and his right hand goes up to your scalp. Grabbing a handful of hair, he pulls you back, a string of saliva lingering between your mouth as you pant. Your eyes are lidded as you stare into his. There is not a single doubt in your mind right now that you look like a fucking whore, and you know he’s thinking the same thing.

Sae pulls your hair again, this time making your head tilt back. You raunchily moan out, and his mouth immediately finds a new home on your neck.

“You are such a dick,” you gasp out as he sucks hickies into your skin. “Mmmmmm.”

“Yeah?” He growls, pulling away from you. “I’m a fucking dick huh?” He releases your hair to slap your ass. “I’m a fucking dick? Dirty bitch.”

His other hand slaps your ass again. Moans break free from your throat, involuntarily, of course. “Yes,” you whimper. “You’re so fucking horrible.”

Sae lifts you off the bed with absolutely no effort whatsoever. It’s infuriating how strong he is. His lips find yours again and soon enough, the kisses devolve into something sloppy. You hear the bed creak again, as Sae kneels onto it. He drops you onto the mattress of a sudden.

You land on your side, with your left leg hiked up over your right one. You lean on your right forearm and push yourself up with your left hand. You toss your hair over your shoulder and glare at him.

“What’s wrong?” you sneer, “afraid that your gonna cum in your pants like a fucking virgin?”

Sae is quick to lean over you, continuing the messy kisses. He shoves you down so that you’re entirely on your stomach now, and with his free arm, pulls your ass into the air. He pulls your dress over your butt, revealing the lacy black underwear you’re clad in.

“Me? Cum in my pants?” He growls. “With how wet you are, you might as well have already came.” He leans down to lick up your pussy through your panties, further wetting the already soaked fabric. “Might as well just leave you like this huh? Since you already fucking finished.”

Desperate thoughts want you to scream at him to not, but your stubborn ass decides against that. “And what? Jerk off in the bathroom? You’d still be imagining me in there.”

Sae backs away from you, and grabs the top of the back of the dress. He pulls, and you are now just sitting on all fours. You’re confused as to what he’s doing, before he grabs the same spot with the other hand. Soon, there’s a loud riiippp, and the fabric falls off your body in one giant piece.

“That was fucking expensive,” you growl, as Sae flips you onto your back.

“As if a cunt like you pays attention to the price of shit. I’ve spoiled you too much huh? You need a good lesson.”

You gulp, but still try to mask your fear. “What are you gonna do?”

His left hand traces your neckline, before wrapping tightly around the bruise littered column. “Maybe I will just leave you here like this,” he muses. “Your pussy soaking wet, begging for my cock.”

“Then I’d just cum myself,” you laugh sinisterly. “I’m thinking I’ll get off to Ryusei in my mind what do you think.”

Another loud crack echoes through the room, but now the sting isn’t in your ass. You cheek burns as you yelp. Sae backhands you next, creating to bright red glows on your face.

“You bitch,” his voice sounds demonic, like he’s two seconds away from becoming evil.

“You were gonna be the one leaving me here needy!” You cry out, trying to lean up. His hand on your neck pushes you back down though.

“Shut up.” Another loud rip, and your pussy is suddenly exposed to the world. The cold air is oddly nice. “I’m gonna make you regret everything you’ve said.”

“You can’t do that.”

“If you cum,” he starts. His hand traces your lips, and his voice grows a mockingly gentle as he whispers, “I’ll tie you up to the headboard, stick a vibrator against that clit, and drain you dry until your begging and screaming and crying yourself hoarse. Ok, baby?”

The pet name is new. Normally when you two hate fuck, he ignores all of them, but the sudden presence of it makes you realize that your actually in deep shit right now.

“Do your worst,” you command.

Sae doesn’t even prep you. He undoes his belt with one hand, unbuttons his pants with the other, and swiftly drags them down with his underwear. His dick springs out, hard, pink, leaking precum. You want to suck his dick so bad, make him feel so fucking good, but you push that urge down.

He lines himself up against your pussy, and in one move, starts fucking you ruthlessly. He’s going fast, he’s going hard, he’s doing everything that he needs to be doing to make pleasure erupt in your body like only he can.

Moans tumble from your lips but you literally do not care whatsoever that this is your admitting to him making you feel good. That stubbornness is quite literally being fucked out of you, and right now your perfectly ok with it.

“S-s-sae…”

“Hm?” He hums shakily from above you. “Do you need to come already?”

Never mind, the stubbornness is back.

“N-no. I just wanted to tell you that you can’t fuck to save your life.”

Somehow, he gets faster and harder. You hadn’t even thought that possible, yet here you are, getting your shit absolutely rocked.

“Really?” Sae mocks as you whimper louder.

“Yes,” you reply, not daring to back down.

Sae doesn’t say anything else, content to just let you go insane on his cock, however much you try to deny it. He can tell when you’re close. He’s fucked you so many times that he’s memorized every tell that your body has to offer. Right now, your eyes are becoming heavy, almost looking like you’re about to fall asleep. They’re also turning super glossy, despite no tears falling. When he feels your hole repeatedly clamping onto him without letting go, making yourself feel even more tight, he knows your going to cum.

“You can’t cum baby,” he growls.

“O-ok, I wasn’t going to,” you sigh as he continues screwing you.

“Good job,” he says mockingly.

You don’t miss the sarcasm drowning his words, and somehow, you find the strength in you to reach up and slap him. When he doesn’t say anything, you backhand him. A couple seconds go by, before he commands, “Harder.”

You slap him again.

“Harder.”

You slap him again.

“Goddamit, I said harder bitch!”

You slap him, then yank on his hair for good measure.

“Still can’t cum,” he groans, pleasure overtaking every nerve of his body.

“Sae!” You cry when he starts ramming into just the right spot.

“No. Cumming. Baby.”

“Sae, please!” You sob. You’re trying, you really are. “Sae!”

“What is it?”

“I’m sorry!” you moan out finally. “Sae please, I’m sorry I’ve been- oh my god please Sae, please just let me cum!”

“That’s it baby. That’s all I wanted from you,” his voice suddenly saccarine sweet. “You can cum baby don’t worry.”

Your orgasm is so intense, you almost pass out. Every part of your body is lit on fire, you feel like your blood is lava. There’s it not a single inch of your body left untouched by this overwhelming pressure that does nothing but consume you. It feels like you’re drowning at the same time as flying. Your back arches and finally, you feel satisfied with something that’s happened tonight.

Sae fucks you until he comes, and the feeling is pretty much the exact same as yours. Nerve shattering pleasure follows each thrust he sends into you. His thighs shake at the end.

When he finally gets a good look at you, he watches the red painted across your skin, shining from sweat. Your hands cover your face, and a twinge of remorse stings at his heart.

“Y/N?” he hesitantly moves to touch your hand. When you don’t pull away, he lifts your hands off of your face. Your eyes stay closed though. You’re not crying which is good.

Sae sighs, and steps out of his pants. His shirt sticks to his skin with sweat, so he removed it before walking to the bathroom. Right next to it is a cabinet with towels, which he grabs a fresh one from. Going into the bathroom, he cleans himself off, dampens the towel and goes to clean you off. Your eyes are still closed, but you respond to his touch. He wipes the inside of your legs, and then chucks the towel somewhere behind him. He walks to the bedroom door, where his lounge shirt and sweatpants hang. He slides the sweatpants on, and then grabs the shirt.

“Y/N, I need you to sit up.”

Slowly, you pull yourself up. Sae pulls the shirt over you, and you adjust your arms through the sleeves. It’s only after that do you open your eyes to look at him.

Your eyes have darkens but a little bit of light still reflects in them. You look exhausted though, which he supposes is only fair.

“Sae…” you whisper, collapsing against his body. He wraps his arm around you, hugging you firmly against him.

“I’m sorry too,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t have… encouraged, I guess, what she was doing.”

You’re silent for a few beats, before murmuring, “It’s ok.”

“No it’s not.”

“To me it is now,” you say, leaning back to look him in the eyes.”

“Why?” He snorts. “Cuz we fucked.”

“Because you apologized,” you roll your eyes. “That’s all that I wanted.”

You end up falling asleep against Sae and when you wake up, the two of you are curled up underneath a blanket on the couch. Figures, the bed was probably messy. After all, it always is after your 3 AM activities.

A/N: Goddam.

#sae itoshi #itoshi sae #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi smut #itoshi sae smut #blue lock smut #bllk smut #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock sae #bllk sae #bllk itoshi sae #blue lock itoshi sae

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itgetsdark-x · 1 year

Note

I have a request for Joel x reader where the reader has never been in a relationship where her orgasm was important to her partners so Joel makes it a mission to make her cum as many times as possible 👀

Oh anon, sweet anon I couldn’t turn down this request if I tried. I just know Joel would wanna satisfy his partner in bed as many times as he wanted to. I just 🧎🏻‍♀️ I hope you like it, I kinda rushed it a little as I was too excited to write it but yeah! Thanks for the request <3 I’m gonna go and hide now <3

Warnings: 18+, please it’s just smut. Oral (f receiving), mild breeding kink if you squint a little, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it, be sensible), use of good / little girl a lot, age gap (reader is mid - late twenties, Joel would be older but not explicitly stated), roughly follows the game / show but not at all lol cause the timeline is way off

Summary: Joel knew you had been left frustrated by your previous partners and well, when he heard you moan his name he couldn’t deny you the pleasure any longer.

Characters: Joel Miller x (f) reader

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: y’all know how bad I’m down for Joel rn, and I saw this tiktok that had me truly feral and frothing at the mouth so me being the true slut I am for this man, I had to include the dialogue. You’re welcome. Just as a little side note, I have all the other requests in my inbox and I love them all, I will work my way through but I work full time so please be patient, my loves <3

Before the outbreak happened, you had never had a boyfriend, not a proper one anyway and well, since then it had only gone downhill. You were in high school when the outbreak happened and miraculously you had managed to escape and actually survive. You had lost your family along the way and met up with a man called Joel Miller. You first met him in the Boston QZ, and since then you had become a team. It had been years and you were in your late twenties now, still teamed up with Joel but a few years back you took Ellie on with you. It had been a messy journey but one that was so worth it, Ellie was your bestfriend and Joel fathered her like his own. She was just a teenager but she had seen so much in her short life that had matured her much beyond her years.

After the outbreak, and in the world of dating, men seemed to be greedier at chasing their own highs rather than actually satisfying you in anyway, shape or form. The only orgasms you had really experienced in the past few years were from ones you had drawn from yourself; those long nights where you shifted in your bed and let your fingers give you some much needed relief. Still, you would have traded all of those orgasms for one decent one from another man.

“Are you listening to me? Hello?” Ellie snapped her fingers in front of your face. “I was saying,” she huffed. “I was saying, how was that date with David the other night, haven’t seen you since and I wanna know all the juicy details.” She giggled.

You were pulled out of your thoughts but you continued to stare at the food on your plate, you pushed it around before admitting defeat and setting your knife and fork down. “It was awful.” You whined. “Absolutely awful, like guys really only care about getting off themselves. I haven’t had a decent orgasm in years.” You complained and just as you finished your sentence, Joel joined you both at the table.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and you felt embarrassment rise in you. “Sorry, Joel.” You mumbled and Ellie was biting back a humungous laugh; you shot her a look and she tried to stifle the noise further.

“Anyway… I should be heading off to school.” Ellie giggled and looked at your embarrassed face and Joel’s awkward demeanour.

The three of you had settled down in Jackson after your journey temporarily ended when Joel finally located Tommy. It was a decent place; so long as you stayed in line and did your fair share of jobs. You helped out in various places; you helped tend to the animals, you sometimes assisted in classrooms and you were known to frequent shifts in the kitchen. Joel ran defence classes, teaching the older teens how to shot their guns, how to fight with weapons and generally preparing them for if they ever needed to evacuate and look after themself in the wild. He always did frequent patrol shifts around the walls, much like his brother did. In return the three of you had a decent three-bedroom home and for the first time in years, stability and safety. You were just pleased that it offered Ellie a small sense of normality and belonging.

“David is an asshole.” Joel stated with a smirk.

“Yeah, well, I know that now.” You laughed bitterly, no humour behind the noise at all.

“You know… some men out there do actually care about pleasing women. Not all. But some.” Joel said nonchalantly and it only caused your blush to grow deeper in your cheeks.

“Yeah, well, when you find one. Send them my way, yeah?” You said bluntly and rose from the table, taking your plate. “I’ve got a shift in the kitchen now and then I’m out at the farm for the afternoon. Ellie is going round to a friend’s this evening but promised she would be back before 10pm like normal.”

“Alright, sweetheart. See you later.” Joel said as he continued to eat his breakfast.

You long had a crush on Joel, from the moment he first met you in the QZ, you were hooked. He helped teach you how to fight, shoot and even hunt. There had been brutal moments outside the world of the QZ’s and Joel had saved you multiple times. There had also been those unspoken moments between you both where a touch on your hand as he helped you aim maybe lingered a second too long or his gaze fixated on you as you changed, when he thought you weren’t looking. You just assumed he never made a move on you due to your obvious age-gap, you assumed he always kinda looked at you like a kid. The age-gap seemed like such a trivial thing since the whole world ended but you never pushed your luck as you know you needed Joel to get by and actually live.

—

Your shifts went by quick and by the time you finished you were sweaty and in need of a long, hot shower and maybe, just maybe, you could get five minutes alone to scratch the burning itch under your skin.

“Joel, you home yet?” You called as you stepped into the home, no lights were on so you assumed maybe he was already in bed. Joel worked different shifts and so, nothing was really a surprise with him anymore.

There was no answer, just silence, you thanked the god’s above and all but ran upstairs, you turned the shower on to warm up and within minutes there was hot water filling the space. You underdressed yourself quickly and stepped into the water, the second the warm water hit your skin, you sighed with relief.

You soaped up your body and it didn’t take long for your fingers to explore your body and to slip between your slicked folds; a soft moan fell from your lips as your fingers circled your sensitive clit. You worked yourself quicker as your orgasm neared, you were so deep in the moment.

“Joel,” You whimpered as your eyes were closed and you worked your fingers faster. Your naked chest heaved as your ragged breaths ripped through your parted mouth. “So good, please. More.” You whined to yourself.

You had fully allowed yourself to delve into your fantasies; normally someone was always hope and you had to keep quiet whenever you masturbated. So when you had the house to yourself, you allowed yourself to be louder and enjoy it more.

Joel got home, he immediately saw lights on and heard the water running upstairs. He didn’t think anything of it and went to the fridge to grab himself a drink. That’s when he heard his name, he put his drink down and wandered upstairs, he didn’t make a lot of noise but he wasn’t exactly being sneaky either.

He saw your body, well, the back of your body at least; his hungry eyes raked over your naked form and they stopped at your ass. That’s when he heard you whimper again and he realised what you were doing. Which meant… no. You were thinking of him?!

Joel went to knock on the door, to politely announce he was home. Anything, but he couldn’t bring himself to and he certainly could held the way his cock hardened in his jeans at the thought of your cumming around your fingers whilst you thought of him.

His mouth went dry and gingerly he knocked on the door frame which caused your whole body to jump and you almost slipped in the bathtub.

“What the fuck?! Why are you watching me?!” You yelped and you saw Joel stood there, his eyes raked over your body before he looked around the room and avoided making eye contact with you. You brought your arms to try and cover some of your body.

“I uh, sorry darlin’. Heard my name and thought you called for me, I, uh, I get what you were doing now…” he said quietly and your cheeks turned a deep crimson.

“Joel,” you gasped. “I-I’m so sorry I — I thought no one was home and I was just, well, y’know what I was doing. I’m so embarrassed. I’m sorry.” You mumbled and switched off the water. You grabbed your towel off the ground and wrapped it around your body tightly.

Joel finally looked at you and this time he couldn’t help but smile, a boyish grin spread across his features and you wanted to punch him for being so smug.

“What?! What are you smiling about?” You whined, still embarrassed.

“Oh it’s nothing just… you want me to help you out, sweet girl. Show you what a real orgasm feels like?” Joel said lowly, the smug expression still on his face. Never before had he allowed himself to indulge in the lust he felt for you, until now; there you were, your hair was damp and your body glistened as the water droplets slid down every beautiful curve of your body.

“Oh fuck you, this,” you gestured up and down your body and between the two of you. You stepped out of the bathtub on shaky legs. “This isn’t something you get to take the piss about, okay? You can forget about that!” You hissed as you went to push past Joel. This was beyond humiliating and you didn’t need him to remind you of it or hold it above you as some kind of joke.

You tried to leave the room and Joel simply grabbed your wrist, before you could open your mouth he had you pushed up against the wall and was kissing you passionately. It was hot and heavy, your teeth clashed and your tongues met with a moan from you. Your hand found its way into Joel’s salt and pepper hair as his hands rested on your hip.

“Joel,” you mumbled, barely breaking the kiss between you both. “We shouldn’t, I mean. What about Ellie, what if she comes home? It’ll mess everything up.” You whispered, your breaths short as Joel peppered soft kisses to your jaw.

“With all due respect, darlin’… how about you shut up and let me show you how good a real man can make you feel.” Joel breathed, his lips hovering just by your ear.

His words, his lips, his breath; it was entirely all too much and not enough and it had your body quivering under him.

“Already shaking for me and I’ve not touched you, sweet girl.” He growled lowly in your ear and you shook your head in disagreement. “Bedroom. Now.” He commanded and you obediently left the bathroom and entered your own bedroom.

You stood awkwardly near the bed, you didn’t exactly have heaps of experience in the bedroom and the experience you did have was usually late at night and with someone you didn’t care for, where the other person was more interested in chasing their release rather than helping you get yours. Joel walked into the room and smirked at you, god, he was so infuriating with his arrogance.

“Let’s take this off, shall we?” Joel asked softly and held the edge of your towel, he tugged it off and it fell to the floor with a dull thud. You felt exposed and vulnerable as Joel’s hungry eyes drank you in; he was trying to memories every dip of your body, every freckle, every single hair and he wanted this image to replay every night in his head for the rest of his life. “Fuck. So beautiful, look at you.” He cursed, closing the space between you once more to kiss you again.

He walked you both back until your back fell flat on your bed, you whimpered helplessly under him as you felt his weight on top of you. His large hand came up to knead the soft skin of your breast before his fingers took your nipple and twisted it gently, your back arched off the bed at his actions and you whined under the older man.

“That’s it. Good girl, that feel good?” Joel asked and let his head duck down to envelope your sensitive nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicked over the bud and you moaned softly.

“Want you to take your clothes off.” You gasped out as your hands clutched at Joel’s grubby shirt. He released your nipple with a pop of his mouth and sat back to remove his shirt.

Your mouth went dry at the sight, you had seen Joel shirtless before but you had never been able to truly appreciate it. He had a little chest hair and his torso was delicately peppered with various scars, all of them ranging in size and intensity. He locked eyes with you as he stood to undo his belt and jeans, he kicked off the heavy denim and you couldn’t deny the way you clenched around air; you could see the outline of Joel’s cock, it was heavy and thick.

“Like what you see?” He laughed and grabbed his length through the thin fabric of his boxers. You nodded and shamelessly you let your thighs open further for him. “Good girl.” He cooed as he admired the site of your glistening cunt.

Joel wasted no more time and he was back on the bed with you, this time just dressed in his boxers. He positioned himself next to you, one leg draped over your to keep legs spread and teasingly, he trailed two fingers through your wet folds. You whimpered under him, spreading your legs further again. Joel laughed above you, he was watching your features as he let his fingers tease you for the first time. Your back arched slightly and your breaths became more ragged.

“Please,” you whined, your voice high pitched and needy. “Please don’t tease me, Joel.”

He laughed, again, he laughed and your body thrummed with anger as his fingers moved agonisingly slow before they fell to your clit and he circled that sensitive area just perfectly. You moaned, it was a loud noise and it shocked you as it was ripped from your throat. You threw your head back and your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you until they turned white.

“Nice and wet for me, hm? That all for me? I heard you moaning my name like a good little slut in the shower.” Joel groaned as his fingers got coated in your slick arousal.

He started a punishing pace and already, you felt the white heat in your stomach start to bubble aggressively. Joel leant up to admire your features once more, he loved the way your eyes fluttered shut every time he would move his fingers just so. Just as your body tensed, Joel teasingly changed the tempo of his movements and he could see the frustration that settled in your eyes but with that smug smirk on his lips again, he plunged two thick fingers into your tight hole and let his thumb stroke circles around your clit.

The noise you made was sinful, it almost didn’t sound human. Joel laughed, it was low and breathy and he felt so proud he was the one to elicit these filthy noises from you. He pulled his fingers out just to plunge them in deeper, only this time, he curled them upwards and it had you seeing stars. You felt lightheaded as you screwed your eyes shut and bit down onto your bottom lip.

“Think you can cum for me? Cum all on my fingers?” Joel asked and tenderly stroked some stray strands of wet hair from your face. “That’s it,” he cooed as he kept his fingers deep in you to stroke against the sensitive spot deep in your walls.

You were broken, already. Completely and utterly broken as Joel’s fingers ripped an orgasm from deep within you. Your back arched higher off the old mattress and your fingers clawed at Joel’s arm. No man had made you cum like this before.

You came heavily around Joel’s digits, your walls fluttered and clenched around him as he worked you through your first proper orgasm with another male.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he cooed softly into your ear as he sped his fingers back up. “You reckon you can cum again?” He asked and you looked at him with your lust-blown eyes and nodded silently, your lips still parted in pleasure.

Joel’s thumb drew circles around your clit and every so often he would swipe it directly over the little bud of nerves that had you whimpering under him. Your fingernails dug into the skin of Joel’s shoulder and in their wake, you left crescent moon shapes. Joel groaned at the sting of your fingers nails and it only encouraged him to work his own fingers in you deeply.

“Anyone ever eaten this little pussy?” Joel asked in a low tone, he pulled his fingers out of you and placed a light slap to your sensitive area. You yelped loudly and squeezed Joel’s arm.

You shook your head no and shivered under Joel’s watchful gaze, you couldn’t speak, you didn’t trust your voice to make the correct noises as you knew what was about to happen and it made your body ache with anticipation.

Joel kissed your mouth once before he trailed kisses down your stomach, it caused it to heave under his soft touches; his rough facial hair tickled across your skin. Joel took your thighs into his hands and pulled them so they draped over his shoulders, fully exposing your wet pussy to him. His mouth watered at the site and he couldn’t wait to taste every inch of you.

Joel wasted no more time, he parted your folds with his fingers before he delved his tongue into your wet heat. He couldn’t hold back the deep groan that rumbled up his throat, he had longed to taste you and have you gasping under him.

“So sweet,” he whispered as he slurped up your arousal. His tongue flicked over your clit and you gripped into his thick hair roughly. “That’s it, use my face, just like that, atta girl. Keep doing that.” Joel groaned as you greedily chased your high again on his face. He attached his lips onto your clit and suckled on it softly, his tongue rhythmically flicked over it.

“Go-gonna cum again!” You groaned. You looked down at Joel below you and it had you clenching around nothing, you longed to be filled as you came hard. His hair was a mess and his eyes were drooped shut as he ate your pussy like a man starved of food. “I-I want you in me. Need to feel your cock in me.” You whimpered as Joel flicked his tongue over your sensitive body.

“Yeah? You think you can cum again on my cock? How about you ride me, need to make sure you get all the orgasms you need, good girl.” He purred, standing up to stroke his cock after he removed his boxers. His length bobbed against his stomach when he removed his boxers. Your pussy fluttered with arousal as you watched his hand pass over his length a few times; none of the men you had been with were as big as Joel. He wasn’t just long, he was thick as well and you couldn’t wait to feel the stretch of him inside of you.

Joel climbed onto your bed so his back was against your pillows and he was half sitting up, he continued to stroke himself as you watched. You were strung out on the intense orgasms already and you weren’t sure how you were supposed to have it in you to ride his large dick. He held a hand up and made a ‘come hither’ gesture with his fingers, you sucked in a deep breath and moved your body up to his. You swung your legs over Joel’s lap to straddle him and he took his cock and passed it through the wetness of your pussy.

You shivered and gripped at Joel’s chest below you, your fingers combed through the light dusting of hair there. He pressed the tip of his fat cock to your wet hole and held your hips tightly as he brought you down on him. You moaned weakly as he bottomed out so you were sat in his lap, there was a faint sting as you adjusted to him.

“Bet you can feel me in your stomach, can’t you?” He purred, his fingers stroked soft patterns in the skin of your hips. He took one hand and gently stroked at your clit once again which caused you to grind down onto Joel’s length. He moaned at that and his head lulled back; you were so wet, so warm and just so tight. He knew he was the first one to split you open like that. “Such a tight. little. cunt.” Joel growled, his hips bucking up to fuck into you.

“So good.” You breathed as you started to bounce in his lap. “Feels so good. You’re so big.” You whimpered, with each bounce down, Joel thrusted up to meet you and it sent delicious shockwaves through your body. Your skin felt impossibly tight and too small for you and the burn in your stomach flickered furiously.

“That’s it. Atta girl, use my cock. Make yourself cum on me.” He growled, his thumb swiped over your clit once again which ripped a loud moan from your parted lips. As you bounced on his cock, your breasts heaved with the effort and your breaths came out of your mouth ragged and laboured.

“Can’t cum again, t-too much.” You whined and it was true, your body felt entirely too sensitive and everything almost felt too good, it took you by surprise since you weren’t ever aware that you could feel this good.

That’s all Joel needed, something animalistic switched in the pit of his stomach and with that, he had lifted your body to flip you onto your stomach. Your face pressed into the mattress with the force and he grabbed your hips roughly, pulling your ass up into the air for him. Joel brought a hand down and spanked the soft skin roughly.

He shoved his cock back into your wet heat with a groan and his balls slapped forward onto your clit. You whimpered pathetically and tried to grab at the sheets below you for leverage as Joel built up a rough pace.

“I said,” he accentuated the words with a rough thrust. “Cum on my cock, you wanted to been shown what it was like to cum properly. So cum for me.” Joel growled, his voice was dark and commanding.

Tears filled your eyes and soon there was a wet patch under your face on your sheets; you weren’t entirely sure whether it was from your tears or the saliva that pooled from your mouth.

“Touch yourself and cum on my cock.” You commanded bluntly and you obeyed, you snaked a hand under your stomach and rubbed at your clit with fervour. This angle caused Joel’s cock head to bump against that spot deep within yourself. You were soon cumming around Joel’s cock with a scream, you felt a gush and Joel was groaning behind you. “That’s it. Good girl, cum on me. Soak me.” He cooed and slapped your ass, softer this time so he could knead the skin.

You whimpered as you worked through your orgasm, your eyes screwed tightly shut and your walls fluttered around Joel’s cock as you came down from your high. He didn’t give you a second to recover as he pulled out and flipped you over so he could see your face.

“I wanna see your pretty little face when I fuck my seed into your greedy little hole.” Joel groaned, he tapped his cock against your sensitive clit and you quivered under him. You weren’t sure you could take much more, never had you felt so pleasured in your life.

Joel teasingly slow pushed his length into you once again and your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling. He didn’t reach as deep in this position but you could feel every single inch as he slid in. He rolled his hips to meet yours and he groaned with each pass of your tight pussy.

“Want me to fill you up? What if I fuck a baby into you? You want that. Wanna get all round with my seed?” He growled and it made your walls clench around him, he smirked at the reaction and toyed with your abused clit. “I think you can give me one more, little girl. I think you can gush on my cock whilst I fuck my cum into you.”

You couldn’t believe the words Joel was saying, you were sure it just ‘in the moment’ but you still couldn’t believe the filth that fell from his dirty mouth. You shook your head no at Joel and he just barked a laugh at you.

“I’m sure I’ll get another out of you,” he whispered and leant down to kiss at your breasts once again. “Bet this is what you thought of in the shower, isn’t it? Bet you thought of my cock splitting you open as I fuck you. I’ve thought about it, baby girl. Fucked my hand so many times imagining it was your tight little pussy. God this is so much better than I imagined. You’re so good for me, taking me so well.” Joel praised with a gutteral groan, his hips were slower as he worked himself closer to his own relief. He was surprised it he lasted as long as he did, it had been a while since he had been with a woman and that was mainly down to you. Anytime he was with someone else he imagined it was you he was filling up.

“Come on, please give me one more. Just one.” Joel purred, his mouth sloppily licking at your hardened nipples.

It was too much; his words, his hand, his mouth on your nipples and his cock filling you so deliciously. You didn’t think you could but it happened again; you clenched around Joel once more, his hips stalled and he thrust deep inside of you as you’re tightened around him. The room was filled with your laboured breathing and Joel’s soft pants as he filled you with his seed. You whined as you felt the hot liquid coat your inner walls.

Joel laid there for a few seconds as he gained his composure once again and he rolled off your body, and slid out of you with a grimace and he winced. Your body shuddered as you laid there, completely fucked out and drunk on the older male’s cock.

You weren’t sure how long had passed but when you finally found the strength in your body to get up and go to the bathroom, it was pitch black outside, your room was illuminated softly with a distant spotlight. You pulled Joel’s shirt on as it was the only clothes readily to hand and you couldn’t help but smile as you saw his sleeping face, and for once, he looked peaceful. You tiptoed out of your room and headed to the bathroom, just as you stepped inside and turned the light on a figure appeared in the doorway of Ellie’s room.

“Gotcha!” She giggled as you held your chest from the shock.

“Ellie!” You hissed. “You almost scared me to death. Go back to bed, it’s late.” You scolded.

“Why are you wearing Joel’s shirt?” She asked with a knowing smirk.

“Oh I, uh…” You mumbled, trying to think of the words on your feet.

“I’m fuckin’ with ya… I came home earlier and well, let’s just say I’m glad the weather was alright for me to walk around the block a few times.” Ellie laughed although you could see the faint disgust on her features.

You held back a choked laugh and brought your hand up to your mouth. “Ellie, I’m so sorry.. we, I mean, we’re so sorry. We didn’t wann—“ you rambled nervously and she held a hand up and waved it dismissively.

“Eh, it’s whatever. I’ve seen the way you two practically eye-fuck each other anyway. I’m surprised it took old man Miller this long to make a move on you. Glad you got a decent orgasm though.” Ellie laughed with a shrug. “Goodnight, Y/N. Let Joel know I’m home safe.” She smirked and disappeared back into her room.

You sat on the edge of the bathtub and held the backs of your cool hands to your burning cheeks. You couldn’t quite believe that today had happened, and of course it ended exactly like that. You laughed quietly to yourself and got yourself up with shaky legs. After finishing up in the bathroom, you went back to your room and crawled into your bed and you drifted to sleep with the soft sounds of Joel’s snores.

You braced yourself on the edge of the bathtub and held your burning cheeks in your cool hands, you couldn’t quite believe that conversation just happened and Ellie had heard the two of you earlier.

You were just grateful she didn’t seem pissed or upset about it. Maybe things were going to work out all okay in the long run. However they panned out, you were just so relieved you finally were able to have a decent orgasm, or multiples, at the hands of another man. For the first time in a long time, you slept soundly as you listened to the low rumble of Joel’s snores.

#joel miller #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel miller smut #anon request #thanks anon <3

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