#vampire!matt murdock
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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!
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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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Our #1 Guilty Catholic Matt Murdock as a vampire please 🙏🏽
This ended up more angsty than anything. Sorry if that's not what you wanted! But I hope you still enjoy!
To you, Matt Murdock was an enigma. A lawyer, vigilante, devout Catholic, and a vampire all rolled into one man. It didn't make sense and yet, he existed. Something you knew he struggled with often.
For every person he saved, he still had to feed. He lived in the city, after all. There weren't exactly many animals for him to feed on. He always made sure to take as little as he could to sustain himself and hypnotized all his victims so that they wouldn't remember a thing.
And then he met you. You weren't the first to learn of his secrets, but you were the first to fully accept him as he was. Both Daredevil and vampire. It meant more to him than he could ever voice. You also allowed him to feed from you so that he could cut down on feeding on random people.
And it worked. Most of the time. Until he got too into his head and felt like he was taking advantage of you. Then he would stubbornly refuse to feed not just from you but from anyone. It made him sluggish, irritable, and just all around miserable to be near.
He was currently in one of those slumps. It had been far too long since he'd fed and even though you had tried to coax him into feeding from you, he refused. He felt like a monster, always feeling as if he was taking from you in one way or another. It didn't matter how often you reassured him that he wasn't, that you loved him for all his flaws. He still felt you were better off without him.
It was your job to convince him otherwise. Which brought you to your current situation.
Matt was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees with his head in his hands. You were standing across the room from him. The room was tense and silent after he'd uttered the words you hated hearing.
"A break? Come on, Matt. Don't do this. Not now. You're tired, you're hungry, and you're not thinking straight."
"Doesn't change anything. I think we need to take a break. I need to get my shit together."
"I won't deny that but you can do that without pushing me away." You crossed slowly to him, treating him like a wounded animal. You neared him and reached out, giving him plenty of time to pull away. He didn't so you carefully cupped his cheeks and tilted his head up. Red eyes flashed back at you as Matt's gaze settled around your mouth. He frowned as you gently rubbed your thumb back and forth across his cheek.
"You deserve so much better than this, sweetheart."
"Maybe," you whispered. "Or maybe I deserve the chance to choose."
Matt's eyes closed and he sighed, finally leaning into your touch.
"You choose me?" Matt's voice was tiny and full of barely contained hope.
"I choose you. Every time."
Matt surged upward and kissed you fully on the mouth, his tongue slipping in easily. You could feel his barely contained hunger and you let him take complete control.
"Sweetheart, I need-"
"I know, Matt. Take what you need."
And as his fangs sunk into your neck, you promised him an eternity of your love.
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Um. Some Fratt vampirism thoughts came out late last night:
I'm just going insane over the thought of vampire Frank ripping out throats hunting for Matt.
Matt's mortal but has always been there since Frank turned to help him curb his hunger and stop him from needing to kill. Altar boy finally gets his way.
He lets him drink from him, just enough.
And its an intimate act but they don't even realise that they're actually falling for each other because they're idiots of course.
Matt's so weak, near death, being held by a gang of slayers who captured him in order to draw Frank out.
It works but they're not prepared for how fucking feral Frank goes on them.
And when there's not even a shred of them left he's holding Matt in his arms, slapping him, trying to goad him into waking up without having to face what he's going to face, don't you fuckin' dare die on me Murdock but he can feel his heartbeat slowing down. He has to make the worst decision of his entire life.
He's pleading with him, bloody tears rolling down his face and dripping onto Matt's. Don't make me do this, fuck I know you don't want this but you can't fucking leave me... don't leave me now.
And he rips open the vein in his wrist and holds it to Matt's lips, almost willing him not to be strong enough to drink... he knows Matt will end up hating him for it, that he should have let him die, but then he latches on, starts suckling, his hands gripping onto Frank until he dies his mortal death and awakens in Frank's arms. Changed.
You came for me.
And Frank is the most scared he's ever been, I'm sorry, fuck I'm sorry I couldn't- I'm selfish I-
And Matt banishes all his fears with a simple kiss.
If I'm gonna spend eternity with you, you have to quit apologising for it.
Tags:
@divinearchangel @saintmurd0ck @castlesnchurches @mindidjarin @hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados
@father4giveme @stress--relief @e-dubbc11 @whistle1whistle @tea-and-wine @emiemiemiii @imherefordeanandbones @officialjanetsnakehole @munsonownsmyass
#vampire!matt murdock#vampire!frank castle#fratt fic#fratt thots#fratt fanfiction#maybe Billy was Frank's sire?
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my dad made me rewatch Dracula: Dead and Loving It (dir. Mel Brooks) for the billionth time and i forgot how funny it is ? like it’s stupid physical comedy, which is a weakness of mine, but i literally have the entire script of this movie memorized so i figured i’d put it to good use and use it as inspo for a vampire au series ? i’m never NOT in a matt murdock brainrot era so prepare for a mostly planned, barely written 10 part series i guess ?
#daredevil#matt murdock smut#matt murdock x reader#vampire#vampire au#vampire!matt murdock#x reader fic#dracula: dead and loving it
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Fan Fiction Recommendations
Not an exhaustive list, mostly just what I could think of off the top of my head. Likely to be edited later with further additions.
All of these are currently x Reader.
Key
🔥Smut
❤️🩹Hurt/Comfort
🧸Fluff
🌶️Spicy
💦Angst
🐌Slow-Burn
🗡️Danger
@bellaxgiornata
Falling for the Devil (Matt Murdock 🧸❤️🩹🔥)
Seeking Forgiveness (Matt Murdock❤️🩹💦🧸)
The Devil at Your Window (Matt Murdock🧸❤️🩹)
Break the Tension (Matt Murdock🌶️)
You've Been Gone So Long, Baby (Matt Murdock💦❤️🩹)
Keep Coming Back To You (Matt Murdock💦🐌🗡️)
Acquaintances (Matt Murdock💦❤️🩹)
Right Here, Right Now (Matt Murdock🔥)
Distracted (Matt Murdock🧸❤️🩹)
Under the Weather (Matt Murdock❤️🩹🧸)
You're Safe With Me (Frank Castle 💦🗡️🐌)
Safe Haven (Michael Kinsella🐌🗡️🧸❤️🩹💦🌶️)
She Lit A Fire (Michael Kinsella🧸💦❤️🩹🌶️)
I Can’t Lose You (Michael Kinsella💦❤️🩹🔥)
First Thing in the Morning (Michael Kinsella🔥)
New Jeans (Michael Kinsella🌶️)
Keep Me Warm (Michael Kinsella🔥)
The Christmas Morning Surprise (Michael Kinsella🔥🧸)
Forbidden Love (Henry the Vampire🔥🗡️💦🧸)
@loveroftoomanyfandoms
Cooking Up Love (Matt Murdock AU 🐌❤️🩹🧸)
Sweet on You (Matt Murdock AU🐌🧸❤️🩹 )
It’s Always Been You - Reader’s Version (Michael Kinsella❤️🩹🔥)
It’s Always Been You - Michael’s Version (Michael Kinsella ❤️🩹🔥)
It’s Always Been Us (❤️🩹🔥🧸)
@chvoswxtch
Generous (Matt Murdock🧸🌶️)
The Bodyguard (Frank Castle🐌🗡️💦❤️🩹🌶️)
@mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment
A Work of Art (Matt Murdock 🧸)
Twelve Days of Christmas (Michael Kinsella 🧸) AO3 link
Luminarium (Henry the Vampire🐌🧸❤️🩹) AO3 link
Other
And Then I Met You by @souliebird (Matt Murdock 🐌🧸❤️🩹🌶️) - top of masterlist, pinned to top
Butterfly Effect by @farfromstrange (Michael Kinsella 💦🔥❤️🩹🧸)
#fan fiction recommendations#daredevil#matt murdock x reader#the punisher#frank castle x reader#kin rte#kin bbc#michael kinsella x reader#eat locals#henry the vampire x reader
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In this au, will the feys still be able to channel spirits? If spirits do exist, then are they haunting loved ones? (cough Gregory Edgeworth cough)
Yup! The Feys definitely spirit channel (as them not doing so would change almost the entirety of the games haha)
But that’s an interesting idea of spirits haunting because YEAH THAT WOULD MAKE SENSE IN A SUPERNATURAL WORLD
#doctorsiren#ace attorney#ace attorney au#miles edgeworth#gregory edgeworth#ace attorney fanart#silly little monster au#art#digital art#my art#fanart#procreate#NOT ME MAKING GREGORY LIKE THAT HEHEHEH#HE’S ALL WISPY AND STUFF BC GHOST#AND THE PARALLELS BTWN MILES BEING A VAMPIRE AND HAVING BLOOD DOWN HIS MOUTH AND GREGORY BEING DEAD AND HAVING BLOOD DOWN HIS MOUTH#im very normal I swear#ALSO BC I MADE HIS GLASSES RED#HE LOOKS LIKE MATT MURDOCK
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The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 1
Summary: Claire moves to Demsdale to take up a new job as an assistant teacher for one Loki Laufeyson. She's also very intrigued with all of the rumours within the borough of Redbridge. However, as she starts to fall for Loki's charm and good looks, she also learns that all of the rumours might not just be rumours after all.
NOTE/WARNINGS: Vampire/Teacher Loki, blood, talk of death, violence, dark-ish scenes, but fluffy Loki.
Also: I've tagged the other characters, but really, you can imagine whoever you want as them.
And a BIG Thank you to @toshisurtsdottir for helping me with this fic! x
-
Claire shivered as she looked down at the water flowing beneath her, glistening red in the pale moonlight.
‘So, the rumours are true.’ She whispered.
The snow crunched under her feet as she made her way across the old arched bridge, and then started following a small path through the park that followed alongside the river upstream.
There were rumours that every year without fail, on the fourth of January, the river always turned red for a few hours in the evening. And now, she had finally been able to confirm that rumour.
Claire had always been fascinated by Demsdale, a city rumoured to have a large vampire population, if you believed in vampires that was… Claire’s rational side didn’t really believe in it, she knew there had to be a reasonable, scientific explanation for it all. But at the same time, she had always been intrigued with the idea of vampires being real.
It was said that many authors of vampire books had come to Demsdale for inspiration. More-so the borough of Redbridge, where Claire stood currently, because of the red river. So, even if the rumours weren’t true, just being where many great books were born was quite exciting in itself.
Claire had just moved there between Christmas and New Year, due to start her new job tomorrow as an assistant teacher.
She continued her way through the park, keeping in line with the river until it came to an abrupt bend and went through a forest situated at the edge of the borough. Although, as she continued following it through the tall trees, she soon found she couldn’t go any further as an intimidating, high barbed wire fence blocked her way.
‘Damn it.’ She hissed and pulled her jacket in closer around her neck as the cold began creeping in.
A loud noise, similar to a bone snapping, came from behind her and made her jump, she spun around quickly and tried to get her eyes to focus. Whilst there was some light that came from the lanterns in the park, it was still dark enough for her eyes to play tricks on her. She could’ve sworn she had just seen a large shadow ducking behind a tree not too far from her.
Calm down, Claire. It’s just your eyes playing tricks on you… Just make your way back to the park. She thought to herself, trying to calm her nerves.
Inhaling deeply a few times to try and steady her shaky breathing, she began making her way back to the safety of the park. She kept her eyes on the ground to follow her footprints back out towards the path so she wouldn't get lost.
But just as she neared the edge of the trees, it sounded like there was footsteps following her through the snow. Her back stiffened as she hastily emerged from the forest, even though the noise abruptly stopped, she kept moving to get plenty of distance from the intimidating trees.
Once back in the light of the park, she bravely turned around and looked at the dark forest. Now that she was looking back at it, she mentally slapped herself for going in there in the first place. Redbridge was, after all, well known for murders and kidnappings. Not that there was a crazy amount regularly, but just more so than anywhere else in the city.
There was no sign of anyone now, allowing her to relax. But her calm moment didn't last long, when a deafening noise filled the whole area. It sounded like high-pitched screams and leather slapping all at once. Claire’s heart immediately began racing again. She turned on her heels and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Seconds later, a group of bats flew overhead out from the trees and dispersed around the park.
‘Bloody hell.’ She gasped as she stopped to catch her breath again, hand clutched to her chest.
‘Time to go home.’ She muttered and finally made her way out of the park. She felt better being back on the streets, with cars and plenty of people going about.
It didn’t take too long for her to get home either, she stayed just on the borderline of Redbridge. It was ideal as it was in close proximity to the school she was going to be working at. As soon as she had locked the door behind her, she grabbed one of her history books and flicked through the pages until she found the one she had been looking for.
Articles about the history of the city. They claimed that the bridge Claire had stood on just minutes earlier, was where the very first five vampires were turned by a spiteful witch looking for revenge on people of the former village of Demsdale, for brutally murdering her sister. She had trapped five men on said bridge and cursed them into blood sucking monsters, hoping they would bring terror and death to the villagers.
That was apparently why the borough earned the name Redbridge, and where the rumour of the blood river started too. The book said the curse was brought upon the men on the fourth of January, where every year thereafter the river turns red on that very night, but just for a few hours.
Claire hadn’t truly believed it at first, but after seeing it with her own eyes tonight, she wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. She had hoped to find some kind of logical explanation, but she wasn’t about to go trespassing over barbed wire in a freaky forest to find out.
She decided that she'd had enough adventure for one night and went to bed with her book. She hadn’t closed the curtains yet, but ended up so engrossed in her book that she never noticed a bat at her window, looking at her from small, black eyes.
-
‘It’s barbaric.’ Matt uttered, shaking his head.
‘It’s fun! They don’t feel anything.’ David replied with a shrug, stirring his tea.
‘Yeah, maybe not when you do it, but we all know there’s some that enjoy torturing the poor humans in the process.’ Matt argued back.
Loki had just walked into the teacher’s lounge in the morning and couldn’t help but overhear their bickering.
‘Well, I wonder what it could be you’re talking about.’ He grumbled, making himself a cup of tea.
‘In our defence, it was mostly humans that wanted to end their life that were used last night…’ Jessica chimed in with.
‘Mostly is the word that’s the problem there.’ Loki huffed. ‘I read online there’s six humans that mysteriously went missing yesterday.’
The others went a little quiet. Then Severus, who usually keeps to himself, spoke up. ‘Still, less people were killed than in previous years. That number is going down, if only a little.’
‘Hey, how come you weren’t there? It’s not like you to miss out on the yearly hunt.’ David asked.
Severus’ eyes twinkled a little. ‘I was… otherwise engaged.’
‘Yeah, getting it on with his new girl.’ Jessica smirked.
‘Right, I forgot a human has got you wrapped around her little finger now.’ David laughed.
‘At least I have someone that loves me for me.’ Severus countered.
‘Don’t tell me she’s turning you soft, old man!’ Hannibal teased.
‘There’s nothing wrong with loving a human.’ Loki snapped.
‘I never said there was.’ Hannibal said in defence.
‘Well, Severus is right. At least things are still going in the right direction, it’s less numbers than previous years. Your father’s ways are really starting to get out there more.’ David tried, hoping to calm Loki down a little.
‘I guess so. I just agree with Matt. Hunting terrified humans just to drink for fun is disgusting. Especially when we have access to the blood bank whenever we need.’ Loki stated.
‘Plus, with all the bars we have deals with. There’s just no need to be hunting to kill and terrify anymore.’ Matt agreed.
Loki nodded. ‘Exactly. Even if most of the prey are willing to be there, there’s still no need for it. It needs to end. It’s a ridiculous tradition.’
‘Well, I made sure none of them felt any pain. It’s an old yearly tradition, but at least it’s less barbaric than it used to be. And I’m sure in the next few years it will be only the willing humans there.’ David shrugged.
‘Not with Chris still running it, it won’t be.’ Loki growled.
‘What won’t be?’ Came Chris’ voice as he entered the room.
‘We were speaking about the yearly hunt. That each year there’s less and less unwilling humans there.’ Hannibal said.
Loki stiffened and focused on drinking his tea, angry eyes not leaving the cup in front of him.
Chris smirked as he stalked across the room to the kettle. ‘Indeed, they are getting less… which is a shame, as it’s nowhere near as fun when they’re there of their own accord.’
Loki and Matt both bit their tongues to keep quiet. They knew there was no point fighting with him, they wouldn’t win anyway. No one could win a physical fight against Chris. Being one of the original five vampires, he was one of the most powerful vampires in the world even. There was only two of them left.
‘But we do need to keep the peace with the humans.’ Jessica said calmly.
‘True.’ Chris nodded. ‘However, that’s why having the hunt when we do is ideal. Everyone just thinks that people have ran away or killed themselves after spending the depressing holiday season on their own.’ Chris said calmly as he turned to face everyone with a grin.
‘Didn’t you enjoy yourselves?’ Chris then asked, looking at David, Jessica and Hannibal.
‘Of course, we did. It’s always fun, even with the willing humans. It brings us back to our carnal nature after all. Let’s us live out our little fantasy every year.’ Jessica said with a smile.
‘Well then. The vampires are happy, the humans that went there willingly are happily at peace, and the few I picked off because they were lonely, well… I am sure they are happier wherever they are now.’ Chris gave Jessica a charming smile.
Loki struggled to remain calm, his jaw clenched and his free hand balled into a fist. He tried his best not to crush his cup.
Everyone went silent when they heard the only two human teachers making their way down the corridor towards the room.
Redbridge secondary school was run by vampires, and most of the teachers were vampires too, with just two human teachers. The pupils were 60% vampires but only a few of the human pupils knew about their existence, mostly if they were best friends with a vampire or dating one.
As the school’s headmaster, Chris was almost in total control of the place. However, the school also had a set council of vampires that had the ultimate say in big decisions. The school had been set up by Loki’s father, Lucius. The income they received from family’s that sent their kids there could go into the blood bank at the hospital down the road.
The hospital was founded and ran by Lucius too, and the blood bank was for vampires to have a way of getting their feed without actually having to drink from humans. The humans got paid for their blood donations, of course thinking it went to fellow humans in need. Which part of it did, because Lucius did run a proper hospital too, bustling with humans working there, glad they had a well-paying job.
For the last one hundred years, Lucius has had a vision of humans and vampires being able to co-exist together, with the humans mostly being unaware of the vampire’s existence. It had been a hard battle getting vampires to change their old ways, but with more vampire hunters entering the scene, the vampires realised that they couldn’t keep feeding off of human’s as they pleased without consequence. There was one vampire hunter in particular who had proven to fight the especially cruel and unrelenting vampires with the same, if not more cruelty. In the end, most of them realised that Lucius’ way was the right way, especially if they wanted to stay alive.
Some bars had policies for vampires, they would send the drunk humans out the back where vampires could take their fill from them. Providing they didn’t kill them. So when the human woke up, whatever they would remember from the encounter just seemed like a lucid dream.
While there were still lots of vampires that enjoyed feeding from humans in one way or another, there was a few that not only enjoyed feeding from them, but enjoyed torturing them too, not fearing the consequences or the hunters. Vampires could release endorphins while they were feeding, resulting in the humans to feel drowsy and happy, but some vampires choose not to. They loved hearing the cries of terror and pain while they were drinking from their prey far too much. Often, they would not stop after the human passed out, they would suck the human dry.
And Chris happened to be one of those vampires.
The human teachers Michael and Jeremy entered the lounge and happily greeted everyone. The vampires all put on smiles and everyone shared what they got up to over the holidays. Well, the human friendly parts, at least.
Loki was still uncomfortable about being in the same room as Chris, especially after what had happened last night. So he left the room as soon as he could.
‘I’m away to get my lessons planned for the day.’ He hastily said to everyone.
‘Oh Loki, before you go...’ Chris called to him, making him stop but Loki didn’t turn to face Chris. ‘You’ve got a new assistant joining you today. She’s just passed her teaching exams from across the country and is going to be joining us for a couple of years.’
Loki turned and looked at Chris with an eyebrow up. ‘You didn’t think to tell me before now?’
Chris hid a smirk behind his tea as he took a sip. ‘I didn’t know about it until this morning when I came in. It’s not a problem, is it?’
Loki kept his cool and shook his head. ‘No, not at all… I could do with the assistance actually.’
‘Good. She’ll be in your classroom, waiting.’
‘She? Finally, another woman in the mix.’ Jessica cheered.
Loki turned around and continued on out of the room with his jaw clenched. He was pissed that he was only being told now. He thought it would no doubt be another vampire, if Chris had something to do with it. Loki only hoped she wasn’t old school type with her feeding. Or they would end up not getting along well at all.
As he opened the door to his classroom, the most intoxicating, mouth-watering smell, instantly hit him like a ton of bricks.
‘Oh, hi! You must be Mr Laufeyson. I’m Claire, Claire Mason.’ A young woman said brightly as she walked up to him with her hand outstretched towards him.
Oh no. She was no vampire… This was going to be much, much, worse than he had thought.
#tom hiddleston#loki#loki x ofc#vampire Loki#loki fic#David Tennant#Jessica Chastain#Chris Motionless#Severus Snape#Matt Murdock#Michael Fassbender#Jeremy Renner#Hannibal#the redbridge hunts
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Daredevil (2015-2018) || Interview with the Vampire (2022-)
Catholic Guilt Boys™ being Catholic and feeling guilty.
#interview with the vampire#daredevil#louis de pointe du lac#matt murdock#charlie cox#jacob anderson#louis even gets the same glasses later
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How hot can she get
Jeremy Gilbert x fem!reader(romantic) Tyler Lockwood x fem!reader(platonic) x Caroline Forbes(platonic) x Rebekah mikaelson(siblings) x Matt devron(platonic)
Summary: Jeremy, Matt and Tyler take Rebekah, Caroline and you dress shopping for prom and Jeremy finds out that you just get hotter
warning: Cursing
“oh come on dude it hasn’t been that long” Matt says hitting Tyler on the arm “I swear it’s been an hour” Tyler said in a annoyed tone “we just have to see [reader] dress then we can go” Rebekah said with a smile looking at the dressing room “how hot do you think [reader] is going to be when she comes out” Tyler says with a playful tone “dude that’s my girlfriend” Jeremy said with a creoles out look on his face “she already super hot, how hot can she get” Caroline said looking at the boys. “Done!” [reader] yelled as she walked out of the changing room “so hot” Jeremy mutters under his breath “holy shit” Rebekah said with a smile as she went to go hug her sister “this one” Jeremy and Caroline said at once which made [reader] jump “okay” she said smiling
“you look so hot” Jeremy whispered in my ear “I know” I whispered back.
#fem!reader#jeremy gilbert x reader#original female character#the vampire diaries#the mikaelsons#the mikaelson siblings#mystic falls#vampire#witchcraft#werewolf#tyler lockwood#matt murdock#tvdedit#caroline forbes#tvdu
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Never ending cycle!
Pictures credits to mattspunshingbag on tiktok
#charlie cox#matt murdock#daredevil#michael kinsella#tristan thorn#owen sleater#Henry the vampire#stardust 2007#kin amc#Broadwalk Empire#Eat locals
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Watching the AMC tv adaptation of Anne Rice’s “Interview With The Vampire”, I got back into the mood of writing for my series ‘Total Eclipse Of The Heart’, but since it’s been a while since I’ve written anything fantasy-related, I decided to practice my vampire writing a bit more with a little One Shot. I’m going to tease it before I post it. I’m too excited not to. This baby will be yours tomorrow, and I will use my Matt Murdock Tag List for this, but if you want to be tagged (and you haven’t filled out my Tag List Form), let me know and I’ll tag you for this! Anyway, without further ado, here is a little sneak peak…
Interview With The Vampire
Pairing: Vampire!Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Warnings: Vampirism, angst, SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral sex, unprotected p in v (but it’s with a vampire, so not sure if that counts as a warning), blood play, biting, marking, scent kink, mentions of suicidal thoughts, violence, age gap, Dom!Matt, long One-Shot (it’s a word-count beast)
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.
ACTUAL SNEAK PEEK UNDER THE CUT
[…]
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 around, 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.
[…]
#matt murdock#daredevil#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x fem!reader#vampire!matt murdock#matt murdock x you#matt murdock angst#matt murdock smut#daredevil x reader#journalist!reader#alternate universe#interview with the vampire#reader insert#charlie cox
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Matty, Vampire, "Lick it" :3
Kneeling before your boyfriend in a posh bathroom at a too-fancy gala was not exactly how you thought your night was going to go but you certainly weren't complaining. You leaned forward and nuzzled at the sizeable bulge in his pants before pressing a feather light kiss over it. Matt groaned above you, red eyes flashing down at you. His fangs were elongated, something he showed off to you with no fear. You knew it meant you were doing a good job.
"Come on, sweetheart. Quit teasing and take care of me so I can return the favor. I know you want my head between those pretty legs." At the reminder, your cunt throbbed and you hastened your actions. You quickly unbuttoned and unzipped Matts pants, tugging them and his boxers down just enough to allow his cock to spring free. Your mouth watered at the sight of it and Matt groaned again.
"That's it. Go on. Lick it. Get it nice and wet so I can fuck you with it." He growled. Another sign you were doing good: the way he couldn't stop talking.
As you finally wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, he tossed his head back and whined. There was a ominous creak as the granite countertop he was clutching started to crack under the pressure he was putting on it.
You wasted no time and quickly began to work him over, using your hand for what couldn't fit in your mouth. The sounds coming from Matt's mouth were sinful and did nothing but spur you on. However, just as he was about to cum, he stopped you.
"Matt, what-"
"Didn't want to finish in your mouth, sweetheart. I want to cum in that pretty pussy of yours. So stand up and face the mirror. I'm gonna make you feel so good."
Standing, you quickly switched places with Matt. He easily pulled your dress up so he could have access to you. Kissing your neck, he lined himself up.
"Promise I'll eat you out later. For now, I just need to be inside you." With that, he sunk in. Both of you moaned as he bottomed out.
"Fuck, Matt..."
"Feel so good, sweetheart." He began to piston his hips, fucking you in earnest. He growled into your neck at the feeling of your tight cunt clenching around him.
"Won't last long, sweetheart. Need you to cum for me." He reached down and began rubbing tight circles on your clit causing you to cry out. Matt hissed and you felt his fangs scrape your skin. You tilted your head to give him better access.
"Are you sure?" Matt asked, his voice strained. No matter how many times he drank from you, he still always asked.
"Of course. Bite me, love." With a growl, Matt bit down. His fangs sank into the flesh of your neck. You felt a spark of pain followed by a rush of pleasure that had your orgasm slamming into you. You screamed Matt's name as you came. Matt continued to drink from you, prolonging your pleasure.
With a few more thrusts, Matt came with a shout of your name. He buried his head in your neck, lapping languidly at the wound he'd made. You shivered and felt Matt smirk.
"Oh, sweetheart. I hope you don't think I'm done with you yet. There's much more I want to do to you."
You were in for a long night.
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the more media i consume, the more i realize i have a type (tortured man with dark hair, sopping wet, drenched in blood, fighting tooth and nail with death/life/morality/mortality, probably in religious turmoil, bonus points if he is monstrous in form but divine in spirit, even more points if it's the other way around)
#interview with the vampire#hannibal#midnight mass#daredevil#matt murdock#beyond evil#the magnus archives#frankenstein#mary shelley's frankenstein#iwtv#tma#tag edit: i have now watched bones and all. thus:#bones and all#nick.txt
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MidnightsWithDearKatyTSPB's Recommendation List: March
Welcome to March’s recommendation. Down below is the link to February’s part 2 featuring Peaky Blinders, Bucky Barnes, and more. March is a very busy month for me, I’m traveling all over to see specialists, so there may be more stories than usual, or there could be fewer. If you are interested in having your writing challenges featured here, or your stories, or even just your blog, please feel free to tag me in your works, message me, or use the hashtag MidnightWithDearKatyTSPB. I hope you are enjoying the new theme on the blog for March, as St. Patrick’s day holds a special day in my heart. My folks got married on that day in an intimate ceremony and again in July in a bigger ceremony many years ago, before many of your parents got together.
🌹 Feb. '23 Pt. 2
March '23 Pt. 2 🍀
Masterlist
A Handsome Stranger >> John Shelby x Reader (Moodboard)
Me and The Devil >> Alfie Solomons x Reader (Moodboard)
In Death's Realm >> Fortunate Souls Playlist, "Death has feelings, death weeps, death feels anger, death has hopes and dreams, and death has a heart."
Have It All by @look-at-the-soul >> Tommy Shelby x Reader (Moodboard)
Keep Us Safe by @zablfie >> Tommy Shelby x Reader (Moodboard)
Make A Good Thing Bad >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Estella (Moodboard)
My Darling Tommy (Moodboard) >> Tommy Shelby x Reader "I do not think such a smile or happiness will be known till we are in each other's arms once more."
Lighthouse Vacation (Moodboard) >> Tommy Shelby x Reader
Happy Birthday Buck (Moodboard + Drabble) >> Bucky Barnes x OFC!Sparrow Lake
How About Now by @look-at-the-soul >> Tommy Shelby x Reader (Moodboard)
Polly Gray x Aberama Gold (Moodboard) "Across the vast quantity of multiverses, Polly Gray always fell in with Mr. Gold. Mr. Gold himself fell madly deeply in love with Mrs. Gray."
The Blackbird and The Lionheart (Playlist) >> Polly Gray x Aberama Gold
HEADCANON'S:
Being Finn's Twin Sister by @mindful-of-ideas >> I loved seeing more Finn Shelby on my dashboard.
ONE-SHOTS:
Fireflies by @acewritesfics >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Extended version of her Moodboard and Blurb. | Did I cry? Yes. Would I read it again? Yes, times a million. It's such a beautiful story, yet so sad.
A Handsome Stranger by @zablife >> Vampire!John Shelby x Reader - Summary: You meet a handsome man one night in a club who makes you feel a powerful desire for him. The events of the evening grow increasingly strange and difficult to comprehend. | I did not see that end coming at all, but then again, with all of Lee's writing, she always takes me by surprise with her endings! I hope to see more vampire!Shelby family.
BLURBS:
Pizza and Champagne. by @peakyscillian >> Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: A peek into your and Tommy's life. | So good, and I would love to have a night like this with Modern!Tommy.
Three's A Party by @peakyscillian >> Tommy Shelby x Reader x Ginger!Lady - Summary: You and Tommy have a threesome with a frequent female patron from The Garrison. Tommy thinks he just might be in Heaven. | This is so very hot. Please enjoy it.
MINI-SERIES:
Keep Us Safe by @zablife >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Family history repeats itself when your daughter is taken by parish authorities. This time Tommy won't let them get away with it. | This story will make your eyes water and your heartache, but you will see a father's true desperation to do whatever it takes to make his family whole. Lee, you did such an outstanding job with this story.
What About Now by @look-at-the-soul >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Tommy has been hard at work with your children Charlie and Ruby, planning something extra special for you. | This is very beautiful, and I absolutely adore it. Tommy puts so much effort into doing something for his significant and evolving his children. Be still my heart.
DRABBLES:
Request: Ties and Baton by @dameronscopilot >> Steven Grant x f!reader - Summary/Request: Okay, but now that you’ve mentioned it, Steven using his tie and batons on the reader. | I read the warnings, I promise I did, but I still did not expect it to be as hot as it was.
ONE-SHOT:
Favorite Kind of Trouble by @amhrosina >> Frank Castle x Reader x Matt Murdock - Summary: Frank and you get up to no good at a gala event, and Matt’s enhanced senses can’t help but focus on the pretty sounds you’re making from across the room. | Be prepared to read something that has just the right amount of spiciness to it.
Present by @crazyunsexycool >> Alpha!Stucky x Reader - Summary: Reader has never presented as a beta, alpha, or omega, but she still managed to find the loves of her life. If she isn't presented, then why is she in the middle of a mission, cramping and hunched over, craving her two loves so badly? | If you are looking for some spicy Stucky x Reader, look no further. This will have you covered.
SERIES:
Push & Pull by @milkymoon2483 >> Frank Castle X Plus Size Jewish OC Hannah Friedman - Summary: You’re going back to your small town for your father’s funeral and Shiva. You know you’re about to face family drama, but what worries you the most is that you’re going to see HIM, your dad’s long-time friend and probably the most attractive man you have ever met. When Frank finally sees you and realizes that you’re all grown up, he struggles with accepting his budding feelings for you. | Please do yourself a favor and go and read this, especially if you are on a Frank Castle kick or if you are a sad bunny like me. This story is just perfect. The emotions that are portrayed through the writing are just beautiful.
ONE-SHOTS:
Can You See His Silhouette? by @psychedelic-ink >> Joel Miller x f!reader - Summary: You get your period and without anything to help you with it, you're mortified. Luckily Joel is there to help. | This is really sweet, leaving me wishing for Joel to take care of me.
Compass by @frenchiereading >> Frankie Morales x f!reader - Summary: You receive an unexpected visit that threatens to tip over the fragile balance you’ve been trying to maintain for the sake of your love, your family, and your marriage. Set about a year after the events of the movie. | Grab some tissues for this one, folk, because let me just say, you'll need them.
Crossroads of His Heart by @jake-g-lockley >> Frankie Morales x reader - Summary/Prompt: “would you acknowledge my feelings for you if i kissed you right now? you can’t seem to take a damn hint, [name]”, Glancing at you but immediately looking away when you catch them, Almost kissing, but someone walks in. | Can you tell I'm on a Triple Frontier kick, and I'm getting my fix? This was so adorable, especially the cotton candy scene.
Lush by @javierpinme >> Neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!Reader - Summary: You buy a sex toy and accidentally send a request to your hot neighbor to join in. | Is this really hot? Yes. Did I need to splash cold water on myself after reading? Very much so.
Stay by @dameronscopilot >> Kacey Dutton x Reader - Summary: When a downtrodden Kayce arrives on your doorstep at nearly midnight on New Year’s Eve and shares unexpected news, reigning in the feelings you’ve harbored for him for years becomes exceedingly difficult. | I'm a big fan of Yellowstone, and Kacey is my favorite character, so I freaked out when I saw this. It's something I didn't know I needed and I want more of in my life. Please go read if you are a fan of Lukas Grimes or Yellowstone!
Worth the Risk by @melodygatesauthor >> Santiago "Pope" Garcia X f!Reader - Summary: You're visiting your hometown on college break, and you are staying overnight at your best friend's house. You never realized how attractive her dad was until that night. You wonder if he feels the same. | An Oscar Isaac character *chefs kiss* and some spiciness, just what everyone needs.
The Wow Factor by @movievillainess721 >> Frankie Morales x Plus Size!Female!Reader - Summary: You now owe Santi a favor. | Can something be adorable and hot at the same time? Well, this was.
MINI-SERIES:
*Grays Part 1 & Part 2 by @fuckyeahdindjarin >> Frankie Morales x Hairstylist!Reader - Summary: Frankie wants you to cover up his grays. You want to knock some sense into his salt-and-pepper head. | I only give you the summary of part 1, but trust me, you will want to read both parts. Part two is spicy, but part one is the teasing, and I just love this so much.
MOODBOARDS:
Arthur + Wedding by @acewritesfics >> Arthur Shelby x Reader | Arthur and Reader sneaking off just warms my heart. I need more Arthur in my life now.
Men (Modern AU) by @dreamlandcreations >> Tommy Shelby x Reader x Alfie Solomons - Blurb | TOMMY'S WHAT?!? Alex does a wonderful job making your jaw drop. Beautiful moodboard.
Your Eyes by @forgottenpeakywriter >> Tommy Shelby - Poem | Such a beautiful poem and moodboard, Selene.
@acewritesfics - Ace was one of the very first Peaky Blinder writers I followed on Tumblr when I returned, and I'm so glad I did. I don't just follow her peaky content. I follow because Ace is so kind in her feedback on other people's content and just encouraging. She is definitely someone you want on your dashboard.
#rec list#ktk recommends#fanfiction recommendation#midnightswithdearkatytspb#peaky blinder#john shelby x reader#vampire x john shelby#frank castle#matt murdock#frank castle x reader x matt murdock#mcu#alfie solomons#moodboards#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#finn shelby#frank castle x reader#tommy shelby x alfie solomons#alfie solomons x reader#tommy shelby x reader x alfie solomons#polly gray x aberama gold#polly gray#aberama gold#modern!tommy shelby x reader#santiago pope garcia#santiago garcia x reader#frankie morales x reader#bucky barnes x ofc
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Bitten
Summary: There was something off about Matt Murdock. You just didn't think of the obvious.
Pairing: Vampire!Matt Murdock x fem. Vampire hunter
Wordcount: 2.3k
Rating: E
Warnings: Vampire AU, mysterious deaths, mentions of blood, smut (public sex, unprotected sex) biting (the sexy way), witchcraft
Masterlist
It started with a blind date.
Which, given the fact that your date was indeed blind, should have been weird but when he smiled at you, you found yourself charmed by him.
His name was Matthew Murdock, he was a lawyer with his own firm and your friend Kimberly who was friends with the girlfriend of his partner had set you up.
“Honestly he seems like a lottery win to me. I don’t know why he’s still single,” she had said and after spending two hours over dinner with him you were asking yourself the same question.
He not only was intelligent and compassionate, no he was also one of the most handsome men you had ever laid your eyes on. The dark suit he was wearing seemed to be sewn onto him with how it was fitting him perfectly. The first three buttons of his dark grey shirt unbuttoned giving you a peek of his chest hair. He wasn’t freshly shaven, at least a week's worth of stubble on his cheeks, making you wonder how it would feel rubbing over your skin.
His eyes were hidden behind round dark red glasses, making you wonder what colour they had. You had a feeling they were brown, matching his dark hair that was unkempt in a way too sexy way.
He seemed perfect.
Almost too perfect and you couldn’t put your finger on what was throwing you off about him.
“Are you still with me?” you heard him ask and you smiled, nodding your head.
“Yeah sorry. Just… thinking.”
“About what?” he asked with a small smile.
“About what it is that you’re hiding,” you said and his smile got wider.
“What makes you think I’m hiding something?”
“The fact that you’re sitting with me here on a date we were both set up on. How are you still single? You seem like quite the catch.”
He grinned, his hand reaching for the glass of wine on the table and you noticed that he grabbed it without any issue. Not like you would expect a blind person to act. As if he saw it.
“I’m no catch. I’m a workaholic who gets paid for his services in chickens and, I have to admit, a very delicious Lemon tart this week. But it’s worth it in the end.”
“But you fight for what you want. What you think is right.”
“In more ways than you’d think,” he said and you tilted your head to the side. His jaw flexed once and you frowned, taking a deep breath.
You had a suspicion.
A suspicion about what he was that you couldn’t test in a room full of people.
His head snapped to his right, as if he had heard something.
“Excuse me. I have to use the restroom,” he said, getting up from his chair. You watched him, taking his cane as he slowly made his way towards the restrooms.
You waited for fifteen minutes before you called for the bill, rolling your eyes.
You paid, glancing at your wrist watch, deciding it was still early enough to take a walk around the neighbourhood. You checked if you had anything in your purse, finding your gun, filled with eight silver bullets securely waiting for you.
You felt your phone vibrate with a new message, another address of a hospital.
You sighed, shaking your head, before you got up and exited the restaurant.
Unsuspecting of Matthew watching you from the roof of the neighbour building.
“This is what? The sixth one this month?” you asked the officer.
“That’s why we called you. There are no fingerprints. Nothing on camera. And it’s always…” you interrupted him.
“Have there been any new Vampire’s registered lately around here? I mean it’s all in and around hell’s kitchen. There must be…” you sucked your bottom lip in, looking around.
“Nothing. There haven’t been any new vamps being registered in half a year or so.”
“That’s a bit suspicious, don’t you think?”
The officer shrugged, clearly waiting for you to dismiss him.
“Okay. Thank you Officer. I’ll take it from here,” you said, looking away from him.
“Call the station if you need anyone to come by.”
“I won’t. I can take care of myself.”
The hairs on your neck stood up, and instinctively you reached for the dagger strapped to your thigh. Turning around in one fluent motion you saw someone standing in the far back corner.
“You’re new,” he said and you narrowed your eyes.
“And you shouldn’t be here.”
Slowly he walked towards you while you still held the dagger up, ready to defend yourself.
“They really called a vampire hunter?” he asked and finally stepped into the light. His suit fit him like a second skin. Red leather hugging his body. His eyes were covered behind a mask, the little horns on his head you had made fun of suddenly looking more intimidating than you thought.
The devil of hell's kitchen was here.
“They suspect a vampire has been stealing the blood supplies. So I guess calling me makes sense. Why are you here?” you still held the dagger up.
“To keep my city safe,” he replied and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.
His lips twitched into the whisper of a smirk and you huffed before you released a breath.
“Only A negative is missing,” you turned away from him, pulling the Dagger back. You heard his footsteps behind you.
“It was the same at the last five hospitals. I have been trying to follow whoever did this for some time now but they mask themselves. I always lose them.”
“Protection spell?” you asked.
“Maybe.”
“Or maybe you’re just not as good as you think,” you hummed.
“Oh, I am. Don’t you worry your pretty head sweetheart,” he said but you were ignoring him, picking up a business card from the ground.
“Look at that. Maybe that’s a clue?” you said, turning around.
But he was gone.
“Men,” you huffed, rolling your eyes.
You looked at the business card, already dreading what you had to do to follow the lead. But it was good money.
“Oh fuck this,” you groaned to yourself before you turned around and left the room.
B-Juice was a popular, let’s call it restaurant chain across the country.
Vampire’s weren’t cast out creatures like in the past decades. Some of the most famous people were vampires. And B-Juice was where they would get their blood. There was something for everyone. All human blood types. Some animal blood types. Artificial blood.
But you found yourself before the B-Juice lounge deluxe in Hell’s kitchen.
Lounge because they had human donors the vampire’s could drink from directly.
Lounge deluxe because same humans could also be paid to have sex with.
You were wearing your most revealing dress, your hunter’s mark hidden behind at least three layers of concealer. You knew the owner and he had told you that he wanted to help.
The robberies were bad for his business after all.
You made your way to the backdoor, waving at the bouncer who knew about you. You did not know if or what you would find here.
But finding the card of this lounge at the crime scene seemed suspicious to you.
You felt the bass hum in your chest as you made your way inside the lounge. Vampires and humans were sitting around. Some engaged in conversation, some were feeding.
Vampires had always been fascinating to you.
It’s why you chose to become a hunter.
The stigma Vampire’s still had, was not something the majority of them deserved. But much like humans there were always some assholes.
You let your eyes wander through the room, before your eyes found his. Well… his glasses. He was looking straight at you and if you wouldn’t know that he was blind, you would think he was looking directly at you.
You sighed and the left corner of his mouth twitched.
“Fancy seeing you here, Murdock,” you said as you walked towards him.
“Likewise. Hey I didn’t mean to just walk away but…”
“You had a date at a blood bank?” you asked and he flinched.
“I deserve that. I was an ass. But No. Something else came up.”
“Okay. Be mysterious. Anyway, have fun,” you waved at him, shaking your head to yourself because he was fucking blind and couldn’t see it. But before you could leave, his hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist. You looked down at this hand around your wrist.
“Don’t go into the deluxe lounge,” he said and it sounded like a warning.
“Why?” you asked.
His head tilted. You took the time he took to answer to look at him. Really look at him. He was wearing different clothes than when you were at dinner. He looked on edge for some reason and these lips…
“Because if you would let me, I’d like to drink from you.”
These words shouldn’t sound so damn filthy coming from his lips.
“I… Matt…”
“I know you want to. Your heartbeat… It's faster. Your body temperature went up there for a moment and you…” he took a deep breath.
“I can smell you, sweetheart,” he hummed and you gulped.
You shook your head, closing your eyes to get you back to damn focus.
“Fuck you and your weird vampire senses. I’m here for work.”
He pulled you closer, so his mouth was close to your ear.
“The man you are searching for is sitting across from us, feeding. She’s an A negative. If I take care of him, will you let me take you home?” he asked. You blinked once, twice, before you pulled back and he released your wrist. Slowly you turned around, finding a young man almost inhaling from the woman sitting next to him, her wrist against his mouth.
Turning back towards Matt you tilted your head in suspicion before you sat down next to him.
“You’re the devil,” you said and he nodded.
“And you just… told me? How do you know it’s him?”
“His scent was all over the hospital. I smelled him before. I think the woman he’s been feeding from is the witch who helps him.”
“Then we need to take both of them,” you said.
Witchcraft wasn’t against the law either. Just using it for crime.
“You are one hundred procent sure?” you asked him. He leaned in, his lips close to yours.
“Absolutely,” he whispered and fuck you wanted to kiss him.
You took another deep breath.
“I need to make a call.”
“Of course,” he nodded and grinned. He took your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it and you shuddered. His grin got wider.
“Will you let me take you home? After?”
You smirked, leaning down, your lips against his ear.
“I will let you take me wherever you want, Murdock. You got some making up to do.”
Your back was pressed against the wall, Matt's arm holding you up as he kissed you.
It had taken over two hours to get the suspect to the station. You had to make a statement, lying through your bones at the reason you suspected him.
Not that you needed it. When they searched his house they found douzen of empty blood bags and he confessed to dealing with them.
Matt had waited for you in front of the station.
Said station you were currently pressed against with your way to revealing dress while Matt was slowly fucking into you.
Superhuman strength really came in handy.
“Fuck…” you whimpered, throwing your head back against the wall and Matt kissed down your neck. His teeth scratching over your skin, making you clench as he slowly pumped into you.
“Shit… Sweetheart…”
“Faster. Fuck me faster. Wanna cum… Wanna…”
“You wanna cum?” he asked, moving faster.
“I wanna cum before I get arrested for public…. Fucking….”
He huffed a laugh.
“Good thing you have a lawyer inside of you, huh?” he teased and you bit your lip as he hit something perfect inside of you.
“There it is…” he grinned. He sucked at your collarbone, his thrusts getting faster and harder.
“Bite me,” you whimpered. “Fucking bite me,” you whispered.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Don’t make me ask a third time. I know some really mean things for V… ahhh,” his hand came up to cover your mouth as his teeth bit into your neck.
Your eyes rolled back into the back of your head and you moaned loudly under his hand as the combination of him fucking you hard and drinking from you pulled you over the edge, thankful for him holding you up because no way in hell were you able to stay upright.
He hummed against your skin before he parted from you, his lips bloodstained. He licked his lips.
“Like honey,” he groaned, his hand leaving your mouth to kiss you.
“Cum inside me,” you whined against his lips and only a mumbled fuck against your lips was the warning before you felt him twitch and release his cold seed inside of you.
“Fuck me…” you said lowly, catching your breath.
He chuckled.
“I just did,” he said and you shook your head with a laugh.
“How about that offer of you taking me home, Murdock? Or does your alter ego have somewhere to be?” you asked and he grinned.
His arms around you tightened before he jumped and you squealed, holding on to him.
“I am fucking naked Murdock. Not everyone is blind!” you jelled against his neck and he laughed.
“No one is gonna see you,” he said when you were on a rooftop over the station.
“But they might hear you,” he hummed before he sank to his knees in front of you, grinning wickedly before he dove in.
#my fic#matt murdock#matt murdock x fem. reader#daredevil#vampire au#Charlie cox#fanficiton#fanfic#fan fiction
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It’s come to my attention that people don’t know how to use the community labels on this site.
So here is how you do it on mobile.
Click the icon with people on it near the tag icon
Choose mature if it has mature themes
Then click on the themes that apply to your content
And that is how you make people who don’t want to see your 40 chapter smut fic not see your smut fic when you won’t tag it as nsfw or lemons.
#supernatural#sandman#castlevania#hellsing#the vampire diaries#stranger things#Matt Murdock#daredevil#arcane#silco x reader#eddie munson x reader#matt murdock x reader#alucard hellsing x reader#Alucard hellsing#the Witcher#geralt x reader
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