#interview with the vampire x reader
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Yandere Lestat and Louis x GN reader headcanons
This is my first time writing for Louis and Lestat so I'm sorry if this is kind of out of character for them. Also I'm basing this off of the 1994 movie portrayal of the characters.
Warnings: Yandere behavior, cheating on reader (not my Lestat or Louis), murder, forced blood drinking mentioned, manipulative behavior, unhealthy relationships, slight au
Lestat had befriended a local artist in France where they're currently staying. Lestat had heard about this artist's muse and brought Louis along to meet them. When both men followed the artist into the studio there, waiting on a chaise lounge was you. Your outfit was most likely some kind of sleepwear that’s trending. Your hair, your body, your smile, all of it drew both men in. They could tell why this artist has dedicated you as his muse.
When they saw you they knew they had to have you. Louis was hesitant to really admit to wanting you to be all theirs, but Lestat had no problem talking openly to Louis about how much he desired you.
Soon both men began to shower you with affection away from your boyfriend. Lestat was all about taking you out on the town and buying you gifts, being very physical. While Louis was content to talk with you privately about whatever came across your minds.
They spent whatever time they could looking at the art your boyfriend made of you. Lestat went as far as to offer to buy some paintings of you. But sadly they weren’t for sale, so he opted to steal drawings of you.
After establishing a relationship with you, that's when they began to try and separate you from your boyfriend. Lestat would plant the ideas in your head and Louis would be there to comfort you through it all. “I’ve seen him around town, looking at other people the way he looks at you.” Lestat would say. “You deserve so much better than him Y/N. I promise you that.” Louis would add.
Louis would be hesitant to keep going with this plan, feeling like he’s building a relationship with you on nothing but lies. But Lestat would be there to tell Louis that this is what’s best for you, that they would be the best people to take care of you. So Louis would feel less guilty over time about this.
They’d also start to get your boyfriend to see other people, encouraging him to cheat on you just so their plan could be set into motion. Louis would take a little convincing to actually get in fully on this plan but Lestat would get him on board in the end.
They’d set it up so you’d catch your boyfriend cheating on you during the night. You’d run over to Louis and Lestat’s house and there they would be to comfort you about what you just saw. After you fall asleep they’ll go to your ex-boyfriend's house and kill him and the person he was cheating on you with, draining them of all their blood.
They’ll then have to explain to you what they are. Louis would break it to you gently and promise you that they’d never do anything to hurt you. Lestat would offer to turn you too and give you a couple days to think it over.
They’d set up a letter to give you from your “Partner” that says he fled to another country with his new partner. This will hopefully send you over the edge and get you to let them turn you into a vampire. If it doesn’t they’ll manipulate you into it anyway.
Once you’re turned they’ll start to spoil you even more for letting them turn you, trying to prove to you that you made the perfect decision by letting them turn you.
Lestat will want you to drink from humans immediately while Louis will understand if you’re hesitant. But both of them won’t let you drink from animals. So if you’re not drinking from humans they’ll force feed you blood.
If you ever think about leaving they’ll manipulate you into staying. What other vampire would want you? Can you really trust someone else after your last boyfriend? It’s best to stay with them, they were the ones who turned you after all.
Louis is a softer yandere. He’ll be more comforting and won’t be as explicit with his manipulation tactics and possessiveness. Lestat is far more open with his yandere behavior. He’ll outright manipulate you and yell at you if you talk about leaving. Louis will comfort you after and Lestat will eventually apologize just so you don’t hate him.
You’re not going to leave them, that’s not an option. You’re stuck with them forever. If you try to leave they’ll track you down and they’ll lock you in their house if that’s necessary.
#interview with the vampire#lestat de lioncourt x reader#louis de pointe du lac x reader#lestat x reader#louis de pointe du lac x you#interview with the vampire x reader
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thank you @qlassicc for supporting our kofi <3 here is your first boi hehe :3
if anyone else wants personalised hcs this is our ko-fi
Interview with the vampire - Lestat de lioncourt - SFW HCs
How you meet: You caught Lestat’s eye from across the ballroom floor, and he knew he had to taste you. You liked the way he looked at you, the way he exuded power. You followed him to his chambers but were enraged when you realized he had another woman waiting there who began pawing at Lestat. You saw red and next thing you knew, the woman was dead and Lestat was looking at you like you were the greatest thing he had ever seen.
Lestat would be down to spoil you, especially with gifts. He’d buy you lavish jewelry, like necklaces and ballroom gown dresses.
Absolutely LOVES your clinginess. He is clingy himself putting his arms around you, cuddling with you, and stealing kisses throughout the day.
Since he plays the violin and piano, he’d be down to have a music collab. You can write him some rap and rnb sheets, and he’ll go wild on those instruments bringing dope ass music to that victorian era.
Lestat is totally okay with you sleeping a ton. If you fall asleep he’ll read some of his books and stroke your hair gently every now and then. Cat-energy.
Being a free spirit and a bit of a man-whore, Lestat would occasionally act out, trying to get your yandere side out. He would relish in the bloodlust he saw in your eyes, knowing that you were getting jealous seeing his flirty actions. He'd laugh and reassure you at the end of the day he loves you
Lestat would turn you into a vampire, and you both would terrorize the neighborhood together.
Lestat can mold himself to suit whichever personality you have on for the day. He is a man with years of experience and a lot of knowledge. He will show you a new side of him everyday.
He loves it when you are clingy, he enjoys your attention, your devotion. Every bit of it, he feeds off your blood and love. You are Lestat’s favourite.
Lestat would love to take you by the sea side, perhaps a graveyard beside it. A peaceful bliss for a few moments as you both watch the waves crash and the silence of the dead. It is truly his most romantic escape.
your rap lyrics,
admins sar, san & sav
#interview with the vampire#lestat de lioncourt x reader#interview with the vampire x reader#lestat de lioncourt#interview with the vampire 1994#yandere interview with the vampire#artist on kofi#kofi#kofi commission#ko fi page#fanfic commissions#commissions open#open commissions#writing commissions#commissions#commission
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THAT IS THE QUESTION…
louis de pointe du lac x fem!reader
in which louis’ new friend isn’t at all what he seems.
blood, death, vampire things. same level of maturity needed as the movie.
“Louis?” Your accented voice softly carried throughout the house. Yvette had let you in and quickly scurried off somewhere, leaving you to find your friend by yourself.
The sound of the piano playing put you at ease as you started to head toward the noise. You had not heard from him in what seemed like forever. Of course, he had just suffered a major loss, so this was expected. However, you could tell that something else was bothering him.
“Louis? It’s (Y/N), I brought you some things..” your wicker basket felt heavy in the crook of your elbow. It held multiple eggs and a loaf of bread, you had made a habit of delivering things to him and figured he needed this now more than ever.
Turning the corner, you entered the living room. Sitting at the piano was a man. You had never seen this man before now, his blond, wispy hair was tied back in a low ponytail. He was pale, his clothes suggested he came from wealth, and he didn’t seem too observant as you were still lingering in the doorway.
You gave him a minute to realize that you were there, but when he seemed to get more and more lost in the music, you finally decided to speak up: “excuse me, monsieur. Is Louis home?”
The man didn’t flinch, he continued to play the song until the final few notes. Only then did he look up at you. “Yes, I believe he’s around here somewhere.”
You nodded, swallowing as you made a move to head toward another room. “I’m Lestat,” the man jumped up from his spot on the bench, bowing.
“Oh!” You giggled a bit at the formality, “my name is (Y/N).” Copying his bow, he snickered. You held out your hand to him playfully and he gently placed a kiss atop your knuckles.
Lestat opened his mouth, preparing to speak, when he was cut off by a creak in the floorboard. Turning around, you saw Louis.
“Oh thank goodness!” You sighed dramatically, approaching the man and wrapping him in a big hug. He was stiff, eyes not leaving Lestat’s, even as you hugged him. His eyes flickered down to your pulse point just as you started to pull away. “I’ve been worried sick about you, are you feeling alright?” You put the back of your hand to his forehead, he was freezing to the touch. “You’re awfully pale.”
“Yes, I’m - I’m just fine.”
You excitedly pulled the basket down your arm, handing it to him, a smile never leaving your face. You looked up to meet his eyes, but could only see him staring over your shoulder blankly. The basket was swiftly placed onto a side table as Louis and Lestat seemed to exchange words through their eyes.
“If you’re busy now, I can always leave..?” You started, suddenly feeling self conscious.
“Nonsense!” Lestat smiled as you turned toward him. “Stay for dinner.” His eyes turned a bit darker at the statement.
“No, that’s okay. I’m sure she has to be getting home now.” Louis stated firmly, placing a hand on her shoulder. The grip was tight, as if he was trying to prove a point. You craned your neck to look up at him. You caught a glance at his stern expression which immediately softened when he realized you were looking.
Lestat started stalking toward the two of you, Louis’ grip tightened. “She’ll stay.” Was all he muttered as he stopped right in front of you. He took the back of his hand and stroked your cheek, moving hair out of the way.
You immediately flushed at the sudden contact, nervously turning to look at Louis. Lestat took your chin in his hold and gently turned your head back to face him. Louis’ other hand grabbed yours, soothingly running his thumb overtop of it.
Lestat held eye contact as he started to dip his head. He kissed you. You could feel yourself melt into him. But you didn’t know this man, you only knew Louis. So, you squeezed his hand even harder.
You became a bit dizzy, light headed as he continued to kiss you. “Lestat, no! Not her.” Louis scolded sternly. You could feel him retreat from your lips, seemingly done with whatever it was he was doing.
His eyes moved from your swollen lips, up to your eyes. He smirked, giving a strange chuckle. Lestat looked over your shoulder at his friend, sending him a wink before diving into your neck.
You could faintly hear Louis begging his friend not to do whatever it was he was planning to do. Your friend grabbed your waist, trying to pull you out of the vampire’s grip, but it was useless. Lestat’s sharp nails punctured the skin on your hips, causing you to gasp in discomfort. The kisses to your pulse point turned rough, he opened his mouth, making eye contact with Louis once again, before his fangs grew and he sunk them into your neck.
“Stop! Please, Lestat!” Louis begged as he only watched. He kicked himself for not doing more before it had escalated to this level.
Your lips parted into a silent scream, eyebrows furrowing. Your mouth quickly grew dry as the man gulped down your blood. You lost all strength in your knees, they buckled, however, Lestat’s hold on you kept you upright.
Louis pushed Lestat off of you, watching as he stumbled a few steps back, wiping your blood off of his chin. Without his hold, you started to fall. Louis caught you, kneeling down to gently lay you across his lap. Lestat smiled.
Newfound tears made themselves known in Louis’ eyes. “Why did you do that?” He cried out, not taking his eyes off of you.
Lestat shrugged, “I was hungry,” he spoke nonchalantly.
Your lungs felt as if they were punctured balloons flying around inside of your rib cage. You couldn’t catch your breath, and whatever you did manage to catch for oxygen, quickly escaped you in the panic.
Your half-lidded eyes swept down over your body, taking in the now bloodied dress. At the sight, your breathing picked up, eyes watering.
“L-Louis..?” You squeaked, eyes becoming heavier and heavier. The blood continued to drop from the two puncture marks in your neck. The sight caught Louis off guard, it was mesmerizing. His breathing evened out and his jaw went slack. “Louis.” You started to cry now.
“That’s right, Louis. Finish her off.” Lestat smiled from his new seat in the arm chair. The two of you had his full attention.
Lestat knew, he knew if they were to leave you like this, you wouldn’t die. He hadn’t drinken enough before Louis pushed him. So, as you teetered between life and death, Louis had made his decision.
“If you let her leave now, she’ll survive. She’ll tell everyone about us, we’ll have nothing.” Lestat spoke softly.
You quickly shook your head, “No, -“
“Shhh,” Lestat smiled, standing up to his full height.
As your line of sight settled on the blonde monster, Louis couldn’t resist the temptation. He leaned in, and gently started drinking from the previous wound.
Your mouth dropped open again, watching how Lestat didn’t break eye contact with you. You didn’t understand why this was happening, why you? Why Louis? As he continued to gulp down your blood, your grasp on the world started to get hazy. “Louis,” you gurgled, placing your hands on his chest.
Your friend quickly ripped himself away from you, as if he realized what he was doing. “(Y/N), I’m so sorry, mon chérie.” You coughed and spluttered, choking on the lack of air. Two lines of your blood dripped from either side of his mouth.
Lestat started slow clapping from his spot a few feet away, though the sound was distorted to your ears. “Now, ooh, now she’s dying, Louis.”
Realization hit the man as he looked back down at you. You were shaking, the alloted energy you had would’ve been used to turn over onto your stomach and start crawling away from the two monsters, but you were petrified. Sobs dripped out of your mouth. The muscles in your body continued to shake, as if they were trying to lull you into a deep sleep. Oh how you craved that sleep at this moment. Louis often talked with you about the subject of death. It used to make you uncomfortable, the way he spoke so nonchalantly about it, but all you could wish for in this moment is the sweet release it has to offer.
Lestat clicked his tongue at the sight, “Louis, the choice is yours.” Your breathing was turning shallow, your skin growing pale.
He snapped out of his blank state of mind, tearing his eyes away from your dying body, and facing Lestat, “what have you done?”
Lestat chuckled, not believing what he was hearing. “What have I done? Louis, I simply had a taste. You delivered her to death’s door.”
A tear slipped down Louis’ face as he closed his eyes and held you close. Silent sobs were racking his body, Lestat was right. He didn’t lure you in here, you were here for him. When he drank from you, you still had enough life in you to push on. Louis took that away.
Your limbs grew heavy as you laid there on your friend’s lap. Your head lolled back, dropping off the side of his thigh and hanging between him and the hard wood. Your frantic eye movement seemed to still, it was almost your time.
“In just a few seconds, Louis, will you lose your choice.” Lestat commented softly from across the room. Your arm that was oh so numb, was able to move just an inch further. You reached out toward Lestat’s shoe, looking toward him weakly. “Aw,” he cooed, “what is it, my dear? Are you frightened?”
Hesitantly, you nodded your head as best you could. “What are you afraid of? Louis?” Your eyebrows drew in as you were able to frantically nod your head.
Lestat openly laughed, watching Louis out of the corner of his eye. It was like a punch to the gut to the man who only wanted to save you. But he couldn’t blame you for fearing what was meant to be feared. Lestat laughed again at the sight of you, your shaking subsided, your body looked heavy, and your eyes were only open a sliver.
Louis didn’t know where to place his bloodied hands as he watched the interaction. He looked to Lestat, who only encouraged him to do it. Your eyes closed completely now.
Louis hesitantly bit into his wrist, watching as your strength continued to leave you with each passing moment. Blood started to drip it’s way down his forearm. Louis wished to stop, he didn’t want to damn you to a life like this, but he couldn’t live with himself if you died here tonight. He lowered his bleeding wrist just above your mouth, watching as the droplets of blood landed on your tongue.
You didn’t seem to have any reaction to the blood, your eyes stayed shut, your body remained motionless. “No, no!” Louis cried out, pushing his wrist against your lips now.
After a few seconds of nothing, your eyes shot open, your hands digging into his arm as you pulled his wrist against you harshly. You drank the vital fluid, relishing it as your body seemed to come back to life.
Louis looked down at you, opening his mouth in a silent pain as you drank from him. His tears didn’t dry.
Lestat chuckled at the interaction, “How cute.” Louis looked at his vampire companion, face settling into a glare.
“I hate you,” was all Louis spoke as he removed his wrist from your mouth. He looked down at you once again, a look of love, he would protect you. Lestat was not getting anywhere near you.
The smile dropped from Lestat’s face, jealously slowly crept into his gut. Perhaps he should’ve left you to die.
#interview with the vampire#interview with the vampire x reader#louis de pointe du lac x reader#brad pitt x reader#lestat de lioncourt#interview with the vampire fanfic#Louis de point du lac x reader#grace writes
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Lestat x Reader x Louis dating headcanons
Warnings: Toxic relationship, fighting, murder
Louis wanted to leave Lestat so bad, but then there was you, his precious (Name).
Lestat held you over Louis’ head. Louis couldn’t leave if Lestat had you.
But Lestat did love you. He wouldn’t let Louis take you without a fight.
You loved them both and you didn’t understand why they fought. Louis thought that there was something that Lestat wasn’t telling both of you about vampirism. This is what they fought about most.
Louis remembered the night you first turned into a vampire. He was so angry when he found out that Lestat turned you into a vampire. His calm demeanor breaking as he heard your wails about being thirsty.
He threw Lestat into a wall, asking him how he could curse you with a lifetime of hell?
Louis would try to coax you into drinking animal blood, while Lestat would try to convince you to drink human blood.
Lestat would lowkey be a bitch if you decided to drink animal blood. Rolling his eyes whenever he saw you drinking from a rat.
But if you choose to drink human blood Louis would look at you silently, watching you take a human life.
Dates/ time spent together:
Louis would take you out on late night walks. Talking about whatever came to mind.
Quietly reading books next to each other, snuggled up against each other. Sometimes Louis would read to you.
Lestat would take you horse riding. Holding onto his chest and feeling the wind go through your hair.
Lestat would try to make a date out of hunting humans.
Lestat would teach you to play the piano and/or violin, and once you’ve learned you’d play together.
They both would dance with you at balls. Taking turns.
#interview with the vampire#interview with the vampire x reader#lestat de lioncourt x reader#louis pointe du lac x reader#lestat de lioncourt#louis pointe du lac#lestat x reader x louis
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Love on the brain
Claudia X Reader
Synopsis: You are Claudia’s lover and Lestat has you and Louis right under his thumb and Claudia doesn’t like her lover seeing being so close to her enemy
All your life you lived with authority in your life I guess that’s why you can say Lestat and Louis always considered you a legit child. When you met Claudia it was so very random.
You were just eating from the cookie jar till they entered with her.
“Sunshine meet Claudia she’s a new addition to the family” Louis greeted making you look at claudia with your light brown eyes.
“Why does she have different eyes?” Is she a vampire too? Oh you look so beautiful too!” Claudia rambled making you nervously chuckle as she got close to your face.
“Thanks” You said before rushing to your cookie jar then back to your casket
“Oh yes little miss sunshine, she’s differently a joyful but nervous around strangers. Don’t worry my lil milkweed she’ll get used to you do time” Lestat said as Louis sigh leading Claudia around.
“Be aware of a snake also” Louis warned making Claudia gulp down her spit. “Is it poisonous?” She asked.
“His name is Faust and no he is not poisonous so don’t worry your little pretty head” Lestat answered as they showed her the basics of being a Vampire
And do time You did get used to Claudia and you introduced her to Faust who was always being lazy in your room. Even after Charlie, Claudia fell in love with you. You seemed to always smile and laugh. You though seem to love Claudia but you noticed her humanity is off after Charlie.
After Louis and Lestat read her Diary, you distance yourself from her. And she left.
Secretly she been following you. and the mess of your family but mostly you. And then the fight between Louis and Lestat until Lestat left.
3 years. A lot changed in 3 years for instance Claudia begged you to go on a date. You said yes of course. You would always sneak in her coffin with just a bra and sweats before sneakily kiss her with het hands on your waist and your arms around her neck in the small space.
Her hands would wander up your skin to under your sports bra playing with your breast as you moan quietly. Until she’ll slip her hands out before putting her hands on your ass.
“You tease” You pouted as she kissed your neck as you close your eyes and enjoy her touch.
“Goodnight my love” She mumbled in your ear “Good night” You sigh
When you were alone walking to feast you saw Lestat, someone you haven’t seen in years shows up with a small gift in his hands.
“Hello my sunshine” he greeted her with a mysterious smirk. “Hello Lestat, May I help you with something?” You asked with a ick in your voice.
“Oh just wanna drop off a gift for you I was gonna give it to you earlier but it seems like Claudia have her plans” Lestat said handing her the gift. You opened it to see these most beautiful pink ring one standing out as you noticed it matched one ring he was wearing.
“I know how much you love rings especially matching ones” he smirked already winning her heard once more.
“I-I thought you hated matching Wha-“With you my little sunshine its an exception” He said gently to her.
You rushed and gave him a bone crushing hug before repeating the same works “Thank you” over again. You came home happy and smiling and both Louis and Claudia looked worried at that.
So they read her mind and Claudia was fuming with rage as her lover forgave him and I don’t think she was gonna tell Claudia anytime soon until Louis forgave him and he did.
She stormed out making You follow her in a rush leaving Louis thinking about forgiving the same man.
“HOW COULD YOU?!?” Claudia yelled baring her teeth out making you slightly flinch at the noise.
“Lestat is like a father figure to me, Claudia and I knew him longer then you so back off” You hissed before rushing away from her.
You sat on the roof for hours drinking blood bags and eating croissants. Until Louis came checking on her, he sat next to her before taking her blood bag drinking the rest of it making her give him an irritated look.
“Was that necessary Louis?” You asked him making him chuckled.
“Listen Sunshine I know how you’re feeling” he said ignoring the question. You already know where this conversation is going as you rolled your eyes.
“Hey! Don’t you eyes at me, I know you love Lestat as Family but- “He hides to many secrets… he hides to much I mean” You interrupt him making him nod as sigh.
“I know what you mean and I’m scared to be alone. What if I loose you or Claudia? I’ll be alone with no one” You shared your thoughts.
“Oh Darling i’m forever gonna be with you, me and Claudia aren’t leaving you ever” Louis reassured making her hug him tightly.
“Thank you Louis” You mumbled making hum in content.
Days past as they forgave Lestat Except Claudia.
“Louis, and My love I have a plan” Claudia said in they’re head
Louis and You worriedly look at each other as Claudia and Lestat continued to play chess.
“My love as much as you see him as a father figure we’re gonna kill him” She continued
“We’re gonna kill Lestat”
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So, today I got a bit of an interesting book by the name, "Interview with the Vampire" and was wondering...
My mom said she's pretty sure she has "The Vampire Lestat" and she'll give it to me once I finish the interview, don't know if that would bring anymore characters into requests tho. (I'm only going to do the books and movie, none of the TV show)
#Poll#interview with the vampire#Iwtv#interview with a vampire#Iwav#X reader#Interview with the vampire x reader#Louis x reader#louis pointe du lac#Louis#Louis iwtv#Louis pointe du lac x reader#Louis iwtv x reader#Iwtv x reader#lestat x reader#lestat de lioncourt#Lestat de lioncourt x reader#iwtv lestat#Armand#Armand x reader#armand iwtv#Does armand have a last name?#Whatever
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we don’t give devils minion era Daniel enough credit bcus imagine ur boyfriend (who can kill you) has the emotional volatility of an ultra mentally ill teenager and u fight constantly and not only is this bitch prone to tantrum style throwing and breaking things when he’s angry, he can also *read your mind* and 100% is going to call u out and break down cry and scream etc over something you DIDN’T EVEN SAY OUT LOUD 😭😭 like omfg Daniel can have the most restraint in the world during an argument and his uncontrollable stream of consciousness is still going to get him in deep shit, it’s a miracle he fared as well as he did actually
#I think about this all the time ngl super terrifying to me I could never date a mind reader#tvc#the vampire chronicles#vampire chronicles#vc#armand#iwtv#interview with the vampire#devils minion#the devils minion#queen of the damned#Daniel molloy#daniel x armand#armand x daniel
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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,
M.
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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Blood baths~
Lestat de Lioncourt x Afab!vampire!reader
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Warning: fingering, blood baths, lestat being a little bitch, cheating?(hes married to the reader but he’s with Louis but reader isn’t iyk), neck nibbling? I think that all xx
Also this is my first time writing smut so might not that good idk
Please like and reblog❤️
~~~~~
The cherry red liquid dripped from the brass jug, as it hit the warm water it diluted and the water turned a copper colour, getting darker and darker as you continued poring. Once the jug was empty you slipped off your robe, exposing your body to the cool air of the bathroom. a great contrast to when you climbed into the tub and sank into the warm plasma.
Your muscles relaxed as you leaned back against the bath wall and you let out a sigh of content.throughout the day you had to suffer with a constant teasing from your husband, the seductive looks and gestures mixed with the fact you hadn’t fucked in nearly week due to him busying himself with Louis made you not only furious but extremely libidinous.
When you and Lestat were closer in your marriage(before he had met Louis) he had introduced to you blood baths, he wasn’t entirely fond but you became obsessed with them and you commonly took them, sometimes with him. The tradition had faded over time but recently as you became close again your desire of the baths grew with your desire of the vampire.
The metallic scent drifted through your nose straight to your head, triggering the memories of the times you and Lestat had made love while soaking in the blood of your victims. You tilted your head back and closed your eyes, arousal gathered between your thighs as lust clouded your senses.
Your hand drifted between across your stomach towards your groin, your fingers then dipped between your folds and you stated slowly circling your clit, letting out quiet gasps. As you kept stroking your bud, all your thoughts were occupied by the man who had tormented you all day.As your fingers entered your heat cause your whimpers and little sighs to get louder.
Lestat had come to find you, hoping to make you suffer a tad bit more but when he entered your chambers with a giant smirk and stopped in front of you adjoined bathroom, something caught his attention. First it was the strong scent of copper then as he got closer, it was the familiar lewd sounds he recognised to only come from you. He cracked open the door and peaked through to see you with a leg propped up on the tub wall, your hand between your legs and head tilted back. If your eyes hadn’t been closed you would’ve made eye contact with him in an instant, but alas they weren’t so he just stood there and watched.
Just as he was planning to stop you, to increase your misery, you let out a sound that froze him. “Mhm~ Lestat, fuck.” Just at the sound of his name falling from your lips he let out a quiet growl and rushed to kneel beside the bath tub, his lips right up against you ear. “Do you know what you do to me when you say my name like that, dear wife?” Lestat groaned and your eyes shot open but your movement failed to cease.
“Lestat-“ You were cut off by your husband kissing you neck passionately, nipping and biting at your sweet spot making your body jolt and volume increase. “Lestat please- please touch me” you pleaded, thanking every god out there when he started to copy your earlier actions and his hand made its way to your heat. You removed your hand and he cupped your pussy and coated his thick fingers in your arousal.
He let out a low moan at how wet you were, running his fingers back and forth until he pressed them against your entrance, slowly inching in, still teasing you. “Don’t tease,husband” you warned, but Lestat ignored you and continued to tease your hole. You whimpered and tilted your head to the side to make eye contact with him, your lips inched closer together and just as they met he shoved two fingers into you and you let out a desperate moan into his mouth.
Your lips moved against each other eagerly, moaning into one another’s mouths. You parted for breath and you glanced down towards Lestat’s hand, his sleeve was soaked in blood up to his elbow and his hand was making deliberate slow movements under the blood-stained water. You whined at this and he let out an amused chuckle. “That desperate are we? Have I left you in want all day, mon ange?” He teased.
After what felt like a century long wait, he decided to take “mercy” on you and his skilled fingers sped up, the sudden change in pace catching you off guard and making you let a shamefully loud moan. You threw your head back once again and your back arched slightly, giving Lestat a perfect view of your flushed chest and the marks he had left on your neck. Your husband began to feel elated too, the scent of the blood and your own arousal acted as an aphrodisiac to him, driving him insane.
He restarted his assault on your neck, your moans and whimpers were continuous as your stomach tightened with each trust of his long fingers. Your body thrived on the pleasure you were receiving and your back arched even more, making your nipples harden when confronted with the cool air.
“Lestat- I’m close…please” You sobbed as your turned towards him once again. He lifted his head from your neck and placed his forehead against yours, the intimacy only made the coil in your stomach tighten as you looked at him with pleading eyes. He smirked as he placed his thumb on top of your clit.
“Cum, mon cherié. Cum for me.” He commanded and you snapped, crying out as pure ecstasy took over your body and you swore you could see stars. Your body convulsed from the pleasure, twitching every time lestat would thrust his fingers into you to help you ride out your orgasm. As it faded you slumped against the bath and you had only just realised you had closed your eyes.
As you let out heavy breaths, you slowly opened your eyes only to see Lestat watching you intensely, blue eyes blown with lust. He withdrew his fingers from your cunt, making eye contact as he brought them up to his lips, sucking the cum and blood from them. “We must do this again, chère” he uttered as he stood up, he caressed your cheek with his thumb, smiling at you as he left the bathroom. You watched him in astonishment then let out an amused scoff.
If he thought that was all you wanted off him after today, he was mistaken. You silently thought to yourself as you planned out your vengeance.
#lestat smut#lestat de lioncourt#lestat de lioncourt smut#lestat de lioncourt x reader#the vampire lestat#lestat x reader#amc iwtv#iwtv#iwtv 2022#smut#interview with the vampire#vampire#vampire smut#vampire x reader
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The official synopsis for s2 + the poster of Louis holding the bloody opera mask 😳
#s2 will be mad!! btw im a non book reader so i have no idea whats gonna happen at the theatre everyone is talking about!!#iwtv#iwtv series#interview with the vampire#louis de pointe du lac#lestat de lioncourt#louistat#louis x lestat#lestat x louis#sam reid#jacob anderson
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Tis the season: Lestat De Lion Court and Louis De Pointe Du Lac X reader
This is a silly little thing I wrote for the holidays. Sorry for barely posting, I got a new job and I've been busy.
Warnings: None I can think of
“You seriously bought a Christmas tree this year?” Lestat asks Louis, his arms folded over his chest. You’re in the other room, working on gathering out the decorations for the tree while the two of them bicker over this.
“It’s not like we don’t have the money to do this for them. I know you think it’s a waste of space and just, stupid in general but you have to understand that they’re still human and humans like to celebrate things. They don’t live as long as we do, so let’s let them enjoy this.” Louis retorts to him, shaking his head slightly. Lestat rolls his eyes and huffs a breath through his nose.
“If we had already turned them then this wouldn’t be an issue. I don’t see why you care so much about them staying human for as long as possible. We could preserve their youth, Louis. They can have the choice I never had.” Lestat exclaims, hearing your footsteps sounding from the other room.
You walk back in, holding a box of ornaments and beaming proudly. Louis smiles at you but Lestat doesn’t even try to hide his annoyance at Louis.
“Some of these were from my family. I can’t wait to celebrate Christmas with the two of you this year.” You say, setting down the box on a table and taking out a few ornaments. Louis nods and gives Lestat a quick glare before he walks over and takes out a few ornaments too.
“I’m very happy to celebrate with you this year too Y/N. I can’t wait to see what this season has to offer us.” Louis says, hanging a few ornaments on the tree. Lestat just stands and watches the two of you decorate the tree.
“I don’t exactly see a point in celebrating this year, after you turn-”
“If they turn.” Louis corrects.
“Time won’t matter much and celebrating things will be less of an important ordeal to you. If you ask me, this whole thing is just excessive.” Lestat says with a wave of his hand.
“Since when have you had an issue with things being excessive?” You ask, looking over at him as you gather more ornaments to put on the tree. Louis chuckles and Lestat suppresses a smile.
“Well humans do have a limited time here on earth and it’s important to us to celebrate things while we can. It’s fun to decorate for seasons and maybe be a little ‘excessive’ with our celebrating. You too were human once Lestat. You should understand what it’s like to want to celebrate the small things in the world.”
“Always so dramatic.” Lestat says dismissively as he walks over to the chase and takes a seat, watching you and Louis decorate the tree together.
“Do you remember when you used to celebrate Christmas?” You ask. Louis thinks for a moment as he hangs up more ornaments on the tree.
“Not exactly. I do remember a good amount of my life but I don’t exactly remember every detail about my Christmas as a human.”
“Oh he’s so resistant to change I thought he’d die the first year he was a vampire,” Lestat says, stretching his arms across the couch in a flamboyant fashion, “You have to understand it took Louis decades before he would even drink fully from a human. He lived off rats and various animals, and I’m the dramatic one.” He says sarcastically.
You chuckle and Louis gives Lestat a look. You don’t get too involved in their bickering, you much prefer to watch them bicker back and forth rather than actually engage with it. Despite their bickering back and forth, it still feels like a great Christmas season.
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Imagine watching Lestat teaching your daughter French.
“Ma mere,” Lestat said, holding your little girl in his arms, her cheeks a rosy pink, little lips delicately moving to try to form the syllables. What came out only slightly resembled the words that Lestat said. “- est tres belle.”
In his voice, the french words sounded magnificent, so lyrical and sweet that it took you a second to translate it in your head, so attracted were you to the tone. He was calling you beautiful. He was teaching your daughter to call you beautiful.
“Mon pere,” You said, attempting to teach your little one the language as well, though you did not know it very well. You were learning along with her. “- est amusant.”
The noises that came out of your daughter’s mouths were still more on the gurgly, babbling side but she at least could say mere and pere, the two coming out in repetition. Her little hands, so perfect and tiny, were clapping as Lestat let out an amused chuckle, his eyes settling on you.
“Tres belle,” He repeated, as your eyes looked upon him with so much love and adoration - which proved to him further that true love never dies, even if the lovers do.
Requested by: Anonymous
#Lestat#Lestat x reader#Lestat imagines#Interview with the Vampire#Interview with the Vampire imagines#imagines#x reader#lestat#request
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l. de lioncourt as your boyfriend
summary: headcanons for boyfriend lestat
pairing: lestat de lioncourt x reader
wc: 302
warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of death/killing
a/n: writing for the best fictional vampire yep! again, requests are open, send something for any character on my masterlist! likes and reblogs appreciated.
you were turned by lestat after louis almost killed you (like claudia) and he was immediately enamored by you
buying you elaborate and expensive gifts to please you
teaching you how to play the piano and any other instrument you were interested in
him opening up to you about how he was turned, talking about how it was, being by himself
you and him growing closer that night as you consoled him
you him and louis going to fancy balls and rich parties together to find some rude upperclassmen to dine on
him helping you with the initial guilt of killing after becoming a vampire
you sharing the same hunger as him so he quickly see's himself in you
sharing a coffin together, you holding on to him as you slept while he played in your hair
a very gentle kisser, takes your chin with his fingers and tilts your head up to grasp your lips
slow dancing to orchestral music
having to deal with his anger outbursts every once and while, calming him down and reassuring him everything would be ok
him taking you to paris, milan, tokyo, anywhere you wanted to go
reading together in the huge library he built for you
him getting you the most expensive and high quality dresses or suits
him comforting you when you talk about how much you miss seeing the sun
going to plays together, laughing loudly in the back at how silly they are
him telling you everything he knows from his many years of being alive, never failing to keep you interested as he details his endeavors
you initially having a hard time getting along with him, but slowly warming up to him
debating current issues to keep yourselves entertained since nights can be boring
being spoiled by him constantly
#lestat de lioncourt#lestat de lioncourt x reader#lestat de lioncourt 1994#lestat de lioncourt x fem!reader#the vampire chronicles#interview with the vampire#interview with the vampire 1994#iwtv fic#iwtv 1994#the vampire lestat#lestat de lioncourt x you
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Kinktober Day 1: Lestat X reader
Marking, Blindfold and FaceFuck
!18 plus! Minors do not interact!
Hi, guys sorry I haven’t written in so long 😓 been busy with life and haven’t had the time to write but I’m hoping I can write more now that I’m in a better position lol this also goes along with a request from @sunshine-be thank you for requesting 🥰
Overview: Lestat ties you to the bed and teases you whilst out on a feed
Warnings: pet play, use of toys, dirty talk, throat fucking, marking, cream pie, blindfold and tying up to a bed post, explicit language
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🎃~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You whimpered as the cool air from the barren room moved over your searing body. Sweat rolled over your bare skin, an ache roaring deep within you as the toy inside buzzed away insistently at a slow pace.
Golden silk ribbon kept your wrists bound to the intricate bed post, eyes hidden by a black cloth. It felt like hours since lestat had tied you to the bed opting to tease you tonight before he finally decided to play with you.
He said he had wanted to make you ripe when he fucked you into the mattress.
Suddenly the toy inside your dripping pussy shot up to medium strength, a moan ripping from your throat as you felt your orgasm climb to its peak once more.
“Please…oh fuck Lestat please!” You begged into the empty room
Your legs shook as the tip of your orgasm grew closer and closer and then… the buzzer ceased all together.
A cry of anguish left your lips as tears rolled down your cheeks, you wished he would come back from his feed and have his way with you already. Your poor body aching for him to touch you, to kiss you, to run his fangs over your body.
As you thought of the ways he would have you the door creaked open, lestat standing in the doorway.
He smirked looking at the site before him, you quivering, sweating, dripping.
Licking his lips he walked over to the mattresses edge a cold hand reaching up and placing itself upon your ankle. A tiny gasp left your lips at the feeling of his hand slowly caressing over your silky skin.
“Master?” You faintly called out
He lets out a hum sound “Yes, I’m home,pet.”
Your body shivered at the nickname
“I-I’ve been good…” you start when he cuts you off
“I’ll be the judge of that. Now hush, I never gave you permission to speak.”
You instantly shut your mouth, knowing the lengths Lestat would go to for punishment. Lestat looked over your curves, golden eyes wandering down your voluminous breasts down your stomach to the wet patch between your legs, left there by your poor swollen pussy.
“My poor little pet, look at the mess you’ve made.” He swiped up your juices, barely touching your swollen lips.
A smirk formed as he looked from hooded eyes up at you “I’m sure good girls don’t make messes, now do they?”
You have no retort making a growl rumble in his chest. Ripping his hand from you he quickly moved up your body wrapping his skilled hands around your throat.
“Answer me when I am talking to you!” He shouted
“No sir! Good girls don’t make messes!”
A chuckle came from Lestat “good girl, you do know how to listen.”
Leaning in close you felt his breathe ghost over your cheek sending shockwaves down your spine as he slowly made his was further down towards your neck. Soft lips pressed against your sensitive flesh, tongue lapping over you as he kissed your neck, sharp fangs scratching against it, not enough to break the skin but enough to make you whimper in pleasure.
“You are so beautiful.”
He kept devouring you, lips latching onto every patch of skin he could find until both hands cupped your breasts. Finally pulling away he looked in awe at the way your breasts moved in his palms, the way he massaged them made his cock twitch.
With pert nipples at attention lestat latched his mouth around the left side, rolling it between his teeth gently before flicking it with his tongue. His right hand rolled the other between two fingers forcing a moan to come from you.
A gasp leaving your lips as you mindlessly let out a soft whisper of ‘Lestat’
“You are a very noisy girl today my love.”
Confused you furrow your brows wanting to see what he was doing as you felt weight of his body leave the bed. You felt deft hands skillfully untie your own from the bed post, still tied together but finally off the bed frame.
Lestat tugged you off the mattress positioning you onto your knees.
“Since you can’t learn to obey my rules and not make a single peep.” He scolded taking his hardened cock from his pants
“Then I’ll have to re-teach you how to be an obedient puppy.”
Grabbing your jaw he forced your mouth open pushing the tip of his leaking cock inside. You moaned around his cock letting your tongue circle around the shaft up to the tip as he pushed further in.
His hands carded through your hair moaning out at the sensation of your hot wet cavern taking him all the way in, The tip hitting the back of your throat forcing you to gag.
“Good, take it all you slut.” He growled pulling out to shove back in.
Placing the other hand upon your hair he couldn’t help by smirk at the way you looked so helpless underneath him with his cock down your throat.
Beginning a bruising place you obeyed letting him use your mouth as his personal toy, the tip of his cock brushing the back of your throat with each thrust of his hips. Skillfully you kept licking around his shaft with every thrust hoping to give him the utmost pleasure, which in turn gave you such delightful noises from the vampire before you.
“You’re being so good for me, my sweet angel. Letting me use your throat-ngh gah!- you’ll let me cum down that pretty throat of yours won’t you pet?”
You nodded the best you could with his cock still down your throat.
“Good girl.”
He praised gripping your hair tighter as his thrusts became more erratic and forceful.
“Fuck!”
He cursed clenching his eyes shut as he pushed your head back and forth down his throbbing member.
“I’m going to cum princess, take it all!”
He moaned out shoving your face all the way down as a flood of his seed poured down your throat, making your best efforts to swallow all of it.
Pulling out of your throat lestat looked down at you with heavy lust filled eyes, a hand coming up to caress your cheek moving up until it found the blindfold. Ripping off the black material, you blinked a couple times trying to get your vision back.
Looking up at him you waited for his next command, leaning down lestat grabbed you by the upper arms hoisting you up and onto the bed, face down.
“You’ve done very well my dear.”
He praised moving his hands over your ass, both legs straddling your thighs.
“Do you think you deserve a reward?”
You whimpered shaking your head yes, lestat hummed placing his cock between your ass, slowly thrusting up and down between your cheeks.
“I think you do too.”
Pulling his cock away he maneuvered himself to where your legs spread and his own settled in between them. Taking his fingers he could feel your fluids oozing out over your pussy lips, absolutely drenching your thighs in the process.
“So wet for me my love.”
Lestat cooed pressing two long fingers inside your pussy making you mewl out in pleasure, licking his lips he curled his fingers around the small toy that had been torturing you for hours only to slowly pull it out of you. Tossing it to the side his fingers delved into his mouth cleaning off your liquids as his other hand pressed his throbbing cock to your entrance.
With a low moan around his digits Lestat started to press into your slick heat, your own hands clenching around the pillow your face had been buried in.
Taking his fingers from his mouth Lestat grabbed at the fat of your ass, growling deep in his chest as he pressed further into you.
“Fuck, Lestat, please.” You begged into the pillow
A swift slap echoed across the large room, your ass feeling the sharp pain making you jolt from the suddenness of it. Gripping your hair lestat pulled you up to where your back pressed against his cold chest.
“What have I told you to call me pet?” He hissed out into your ear
“M-master”
The soft breathe of his chuckle ghosted over your skin “Good girl, now take your masters cock like a good girl.”
Pulling out to the tip lestat shoved back in knocking the breathe right out of you, starting off at a punishing pace Lestat’s hand repositioned from your hair to your throat. You moaned loudly hearing your juices squelch every time his thick cock pushed inside of you.
“Fuck master, feels so good!” You moaned out
Lestat’s hand gripped tighter around your throat making your pussy clench around him.
“My little fucking whore, ready to take whatever I give her whenever I want.”
Thrusts becoming faster you could hear lestat hiss and deeply groan, feeling it rumble in his chest as he got closer to cumming deep inside you.
“I’m so close love, fuck, do you want me to touch that pretty clit of yours?”
You nodded frantically eyes pleading for some sort of attention to your throbbing clit.
“Very well pet, since you’ve been so good with my punishment tonight.”
His other hand left your hip circling around to your swollen clit, two fingers pressing against it firmly as he slowly moved in a circular motion.
Eyes rolling back you desperately moved your hips into his fingers then back against his cock that rammed into you.
A chuckle echoed from Lestat’s lips “that’s it pet, chase your pleasure like a needy slut, go on fuck me like you mean it.”
Mouth hanging open you felt your orgasm approaching, lestat noting how your pussy kept fluttering around him. Kissing under your ear he whispered
“Cum, pet.”
Loosening his grip around your throat, a tidal wave of pleasure washed over you gripping his cock as you gushed over him, down your legs and over his thighs.
Feeling you gush around him clenching him like a vice his cum spurted out inside of you filling your womb with his seed.
Lestat’s thrusts slowed to a halt as he tried to regain his breath, gently laying you down his hands held himself up above you, blonde locks cascading over your face as he tried to regain composure.
Eyes slowly opening back up he looked down upon you, an absolute fucked out mess, a chuckle left his lips wiping hair from your face.
“Fucked you till you passed out did I?” He asked himself quietly, caressing his hand over your warm cheeks
Pulling himself back he untied your wrists rubbing the raw wrists gently to relieve some of the redness around it. Slowly pulling out of your full hole with a hiss he got himself up out of bed, picking you up into his arms.
“Let me clean you up love.” He said to himself as he walked the two of you to the bathroom.
#slasher#slasher x reader#slashers#slasher smut#horror#halloween#lestat x reader#lestat de lioncourt#interview with a vampire#vampire#kinktober#smut
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Yandere Lestat de Lioncourt x Reader
Warnings: Yandere Behavior, mentions of suicide, baby trapping, kidnapping, based off of the 1994 movie and book(s), a bit of misogyny(?), verbal abuse
Lestat is a selfish yandere, who puts his desires above his lover’s.
He does whatever he can to make you stay with him.
Belittling you, so that it may seem like he’s the only one to care about you. Tells you how stupid you are for believing others can love you.
He’s very likely to kidnap/trap and isolate his lover. (He literally baby trapped Louis so he wouldn’t leave him).
He’s very clingy. Nicolas killed himself and Louis left him, causing him to form a fear of abandonment.
He’s a bit delusional. He doesn’t really understand why you get upset at him, and may mock you at times.
He doesn’t want to, but he may forcefully turn you. You would have to do something drastic for him to do so. Or he may coerce you into letting him turn you, so that he may feel less guilt
Lestat is controlling. Specifically to your guys’ money. If you're a woman this would be easier for him to do so.
Arguments with him are terrible. Yelling about all the things he does for you, and even threatening to kill the people you hold dear to yourself.
You may soon believe that Lestat is the devil.
A/N: I'm really proud of this. I had to go through the book to write this and forgot how good it was.
#interview with the vampire#lestat de lioncourt x reader#interview with the vampire x reader#lestat de lioncourt#interview with the vampire 1994
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£{Strawberry shortcake}£
Claudia x mix reader
Synopsis: Claudia been admiring you for days until you finally turns you in new orleans
You always like sweets maybe this Admirer knew that as they been setting strawberry shortcakes on your door for a couple weeks now. Of course you ate them seeing nothing wrong with the gesture but it can’t help but made you think of that gesture.
Until today the person finally wrote to you with the cake. It was a weird way to write the way they write.
Ya know I thought I was always gon be alone till I met you. You’re my Lestat but better, Darlin. Oh I can’t wait for you to be with me already so we can just cuddle and just enjoy each other for eternity. Just us against the world.
There was no name but You knew you falling slowly in love with the cake and them letters. You knew they didn’t see you as just a girl whose white dad fucked a black woman.
You didn’t get no criticism from them about your own skin. They saw you as an equal.
Sure she got attention from other boys in new orleans but they’re just boys. Little boys who can’t keep it in their pants.
Her parents don’t give her enough attention either making her off and about doing whatever she wants that won’t cause her trouble.
The thought of it made you sick. You wore your beige coat over the same color dress. Beige was always a color you adored.
You exited your room roaming the streets of new orleans, an old black baker approached her with a bag of free beignets offering a gentle smile. You thanked the baker smiling back before going on your day.
It was peaceful til A beautiful girl was walking beside her with a red cloak. You secretly admired the girl, her red eyes, brown curls and her light skin. She was beautiful.
You didn’t think you liked girls but she seemed like exception. So you stopped walking and so did she.
“Hello lil red” You greeted first holding your hand up first. She smiled with heart eyes before taking your hand holding a little tight.
“Hello i’m Claudia” She greeted still holding your hand making you blush.
“Wanna get ice cream, we can get sundae’s if you like?” You asked making her smile brightly. “Sure Doll” She chipered
As they entered the dinner, you ordered a strawberry shortcake sundae as Claudia ordered a Vanilla sundae. Claudia took small bites of her ice cream as you eat a full spoons of ice cream.
“You must love strawberries” Claudia stated looking at the girl glow in the moonlight.
You gasp in excitement at the mention of strawberries “oh my God I just love strawberry’s its one of my favorite fruits its actually my favorite food” You rambled as Claudia just stare at you with admiration.
by the end of the night, Claudia walked you home, and you gave her a little kiss on the cheek.
after that, you saw her more often more after the usual you didn’t know she existed till now, but now she just talk to you and every waking moment well every waking night usually you go out all night and shes usually there but at daylight she’s never there. 
she does worry about your well-being about staying up too late, but she realized that you have nightmares so you can’t go back to sleep.
Days went by and Claudia started to think about changing you into a vampire. She thought long and hard. The more y’all talk the more shes falling in love more and more with you. It was getting overwhelming she can’t last the day without you. 
so one night she decides to be selfish when you were asleep, she turned you in your bed right there you couldn’t stop screaming it burned your whole skin burnt you felt like you were changing. Sure you will love Claudia but you love being human.
falling in love with a female wasn’t ideal for you and it was an abomination to your family so you kept on denying the love you have for her until now.
Claudia picked you up and rushed you to Louis and Lestat for help. surprisingly, Claudia was successful of turning you maybe because it was in your blood or something no one knew why She could turn you but not Charlie. It was a mystery that they did not have time for but Lestat did.
when you woke, you had long nails, your eyes look red as flames. Skin was a little pale but you still looked Light Skin and your hair was just a mess there was blood on your neck until you saw this human smelling so delicious like candy or more like strawberries, Strawberry shortcake that’s what you craved, so you brush the guy and bit his neck drinking all his blood leaving him pale.
“Claudia” You whined for her feeling clingy and overwhelmed with unfamiliarity.
“Hello Angel” A strange white man said making you jump in surprise. “Oh don’t worry sweetheart I won’t hurt you” He said again
“My name is Lestat” he greeted making you look at him in curiosity and weirdly
“And i’m Louis” A black man said coming in the room. You stared at the room in such curiosity like a bunny haunting a new area.
“Where am I? And what am I?” You asked looking in a mirror of an unknown you reflection.
“Well you’re a Vampire and Claudia is your creator” Louis explained. “My creator?” you questioned back making him hum in agreement.
Lestat held a creepy smile watching your expression and your movement. You legs shake as you fidget with your baby blue sweater. “I’m so hungry” You mumble. Just in time as Claudia to come in the room with a A positive and B negative blood bags with a joyful smile.
“Here you are my love” Claudia said handing her the blood bag.
“Now we can be together for eternity” She said joyfully watching you drink the blood bag.
After a while y’all decided to travel to paris, New Zealand, and other countries. Life with new was peaceful and enjoyable. And life with her was exciting and fun. You weren’t mad about your new life because nothing can beat this life right now.
And you still didn’t know she was the strawberry shortcake giver
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