#thecomediansmut

[detachedminxsfics]

Bad Romance

Masterlist

Characters: Comedian x Vigilante F!Reader

Summary: You and Eddie have been making eyes at each other for a while now, and tonight he decides that playful flirting is no longer enough.

Word count: 3.6K

Warnings: NSFW - Dub-con (eventual consent), period typical misogyny, rough sex, choking, brief dry humping, dom/sub dynamic, creampie, Eddie's filthy mouth, shotgunning, public sex

A/N: Yes, I named this after Lady Gaga's song because I saw this one edit of The Comedian on tiktok to it and I can't stop thinking about it.

Space. That was what you needed. Sometimes it felt like he could pin you against the wall with just the look in his eyes, the long, lustrous stares making it feel as though you were fucking each other with just that. The way he would lean in as close as physically possible when he spoke to you or came up from behind you, and the smoke of his cigar would wisp and swirl beside your head, clouding your peripheral. Or the times when you would be trying to gain control of the chaos in the streets and he'd get carried away as he typically did, his usually brutish heavy blows to some poor civilian's skull only growing increasingly violent if he caught you staring at him, nearly beating the man half to death as he got caught up with the sight of you. The tension was thick between the two of you, and tonight was no different. Being a lady in these times meant you were expected to fight in far less armour and clothing than the boys, something to which he often took notice of.

"Hey, sweetheart." Eddie whispered, quiet enough for any prying eyes or ears to not hear.

You rolled your eyes a little as he rounded you after emerging from your side, coming to stand in front of you with a cigar pushed between his lips. You weren't sure why he was so persistent, but make no mistake, it wasn't love. Edward Blake didn't love anything or anyone other than himself. Given his cold nature, you arrived at the conclusion it was more of a possessive and authoritative desire to have you, with no intention of pursuing anything of real worth afterward. And honestly, in your weaker moments, you often found yourself fantasising about the parameters of that arrangement.

"Hey, Eddie." You mumbled, leaning over and adjusting the narrow bands of fabric on your thighs that were fastened to your stockings.

The moment you finished fiddling with them, and straightened your back intending to politely meet his eye as he spoke to you, you felt the calloused pads of his fingers dig into the top of your thigh.

"This is definitely your colour." He remarked teasingly, still balancing his cigar between his lips.

His thumb smoothed over the garter, and your whole body tensed. You hoped nobody was looking, because the way he was humiliating you so publically, touching you like you were some whoreish display, was appalling. You stepped back to break the contact, and Eddie chuckled as you recoiled from him.

"Damn it Eddie, get your hands off me." You tried to keep the volume of your voice low, not trying to cause any sort of unwanted commotion and make a scene.

Usually, it was passing flirtatious comments or heated moments, but this was the first time he had gotten particularly handsy. It wasn't that you were necessarily opposed to the idea of being intimate with him, his rugged handsomeness undeniable when he flashed those pearly whites with a dirty smile; but he was cruel. Eddie's hands were bloodied with the countless lives he had taken, just for the fun of it, and because everything was one massive joke to him. On the spectrum of vigilantism, Edward Blake crossed the line of total criminal, kept going only by the media's reassurances that his actions were driven by patriotism, thus branding him as some kind of twisted all-American dream. Delivering justice one murder at a time, as if any of the things Eddie did were really for the greater good.

After backing up and scolding him for treating you so impetuously his eyes narrowed for a moment, as though he was trying to make sense of what it was that just made you so resistant to his curt, manly charms. Then the frustration began to set into his features, and you could feel him practically restraining himself from telling you just how much your rejection vexed him. This man was too much, the weight of him and all that he was crashing over you for the hundredth time, and the havoc he wrought upon your morals. Though most would argue heroism is subjective, you believed you could tell right from wrong. And Eddie? He was just damn wrong. You turned and left wordlessly, a pace in your steps encompassing just how much you truly needed to be anywhere but here, anywhere so long as it was somewhere without him. The double doors flung open allowing a gust of cool air to sting your bare skin, but you'd brave the frost of the evening if only to be away from him. To be alone. You rested your back against the brick wall, allowing the unrelenting chill to work through your spine, and tipped your head back, eyes closed as you craved to wander in a place of peace for just a moment or two. A Comedian-free zone, as it were. You were granted that for a sweet, short while, and then reality overcame you in one word.

"Hey." Eddie's confrontational tone wouldn't go unnoticed.

Hesitantly, you opened your eyes to stare back into the bottomless chocolate hue of his irises, the whites of his eyes only further brought out by the smouldering black mask that circled them.

"I've had enough for tonight, Eddie. Please, just go back inside." You were trying to keep as level-headed as possible but couldn't help the impatient hint to your words.

It only riled him further, and he stormed towards you in determined, large strides in no time. You instinctively backed yourself against the wall to put any kind of space between the two of you, anything but the alternative, but to no avail. His body pinned you against the wall, and you hissed slightly at the way he mushed you with the coarse brick pressing in against your back. Eddie was built like a linebacker, broad-shouldered, and in sickeningly good shape. It was something you might have been able to appreciate if it weren't for the fact that it meant you were shit out of luck when it came to getting out from underneath him, or beating him in hand-to-hand combat. You were screwed.

"I'm not goin' anywhere, baby. C'mon, we both know that you've wanted this for a while now. You been givin' me fuck me eyes since the moment we met."

As he accused you of employing the supposedly womanly wiles he was so sure of, his hands moved up to grip your hips, a slight wince escaping your lips as you knew the bruises that would later form.

"God, what the hell's gotten into you?"

You attempted to wedge your hands between your bodies, hoping to slam your hands against the solid leather plating decorating his chest, and failed miserably. Eddie used his hold over your hips to draw your lower half against his groin, his head burrowing into your neck to suck and nip at the skin between his teeth as he began to grind, creating inconceivably obscene friction that had you threatening to give in. His stubble scratched along your jaw, and his subtle groans mixed with your own unsteady, hitched breaths. It took everything in you not to move against him, not to return his ministrations, but you sure as hell found your strength. In a quick, deliberate movement you reached up and gathered the hair at the back of his head in your hand, making sure you'd gotten an effective fistful before yanking, hard. The force was enough to swing his head back, and he grimaced at the painful sensation searing through his scalp, recovering far quicker than you'd anticipated just as you were about to clock him in the jaw. He caught your wrist expertly and swung you back against the brick, the back of your head colliding with the wall and allowing a deep, tender pressure to work through your skull, the world around you seeming to darken with the gradual enclosing border of your vision. Just as you began to fathom the ache seeping into your head you felt the feeling of fingers digging into the underside of your jaw, gripping along the line that met your throat. Lack of oxygen worsened your already hazy vision, your gasps for air barely acknowledged as you heard the click of him undoing his belt.

"Y'know, you putting up a fight is just gonna make me harder." He drawled between his chuckles, a smirk of triumph plastered across his lips.

You tried to free yourself from his hold, but your futile attempt resulted in nothing but squirms that had you asphyxiating yourself against the grasp on your throat. The fingers of his free hand ran down the top of your thigh, caressing your skin before his fingertips passed over the lace trim of your stockings. He rolled some of the material between his thumb and index finger before drawing it back and releasing it, snapping the elastic against your skin.

"I'm the real reason you dress like this, aren't I baby? You been trying to get my attention?"

"Fuck you." You spat, your not-so-ladylike mouth resulting in him turning you around and hiking up the fabric of the mini skirt you wore for your costume.

He was not so considerate when it came to your panties, fingers delving into the back of your thong and ripping them clean off, the sound carrying through the uneasily silent evening air. You hissed at the cold rush between your thighs, unable to feel the full extent of the icy harshness as his hands took hold of both your hips, forcibly angling you into a sleazy arch. Eddie wedged his boot between the small space inbetween your stilettos, hooking over your heel so he could slide your feet apart, thus spreading your legs. You flatten your palms against the brick in an attempt to brace yourself, but nothing could have prepared you for that. Eddie lined himself up and then slammed inside you with one rough thrust, sinking all of him into you mercilessly as you let out a humiliating whine. You wanted to despise him for the man he was, the unforgivable things he has done, and yet, it was like nothing else mattered. You knew it was wrong that he felt like you were his for the taking, that there would be nothing more than a dirty secret between the two of you afterwards, but quite frankly you could care less. The start of a series of surprisingly slow thrusts was your undoing, every movement threatening to buckle your knees, and the filthy moans that began to pass your lips. With one hand left clutching your hip, the other moved to your front, his large hand cupping your clothed breast. Then you felt the hard leather of his chest plate press against your back, and the sound of his low, heavy breaths blowing just past your ear.

"That's what I fucking thought. You like this, huh?"

He finished his sentence with a hard thrust, the sensation of fullness leaving you breathless, and allowing the brick grazing one side of your face as he kept you pinned against the wall to become something of an afterthought.

"Please, Eddie. Oh, fuck."

He rested his forehead against the nape of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin as you could practically hear his righteous smirk, even feel that shit-eating grin pressed against your skin. Then, he brought himself all the way out before slamming back inside, the snap of his hips making you curse. If anyone were to pass by, a car or a simple pedestrian, they would find arguably one of the most notorious headlining vigilantes in New York City balls deep in one of his team members, and you'd never be able to live it down. Eddie loved that you were vulnerable, however. He loved the position of power he had over you, and he savoured the way his name rolled off your tongue, the way you moaned for him.

Without warning he removed himself from you and impatiently flipped you to face him, allowing you to drink him in in all his glory. The illumination of a nearby streetlight faintly backlit him, his typically styled front strands of hair still curling magnificently at one side, and his darkened eyes boring into yours. The smell of the city permeated the bitter air, the familiar scent of car fumes wafting through the street, and then him. His aroma consisted primarily of cigars, something that didn't come as much of a surprise considering you had barely ever seen him without one, the smoke always dancing in front of his face or leaving a momentary trail as he walked before dispersing. This very moment had to be the longest you had seen him without one. The fact that a man this nihilistic could look so striking was nauseating, depraved even. You knew Eddie wasn't the type for this sort of touch, and that he may deject it entirely, but you couldn't help yourself. You smashed your lips against his, and sensed his surprise for a moment or two, before he returned the movements with his own. His stubble was scratching along your chin as he moved his hands from your hips and took hold of the underside of your thighs, cupping just below your ass. He hoisted you up without a hint of struggle, holding you as though you weighed nothing, and entered you once more. You whimpered against his greedy lips, and he groaned against yours, the scarlet shade of your lipstick surely smearing messily over both of your lips.

"You feel so damn good, babygirl." He muttered between kisses, both stealing your air and breathing it back into your mouth with hoarse grunts.

For a split second you allowed naivety to wash over you, the idea that you were something more to him than a pretty face, something other than a way to alleviate the bulge that strained at his pants every time he laid eyes on you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, closing your thighs around his hips and letting him bury himself inside you over and over, his ruthless thrusts growing progressively harder and rougher. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you rolled your hips in time with his thrusts, your fingers combing through his hair and being careful not to ruffle the way Eddie kept it. It didn't take long for the pace he set to become unbearable, your head tipping back whilst you mewled from the pressure building in your abdomen, your walls clenching around him and making him take a sharp breath inward.

With your throat bare to him, he rushed to start marking you again, his lips assaulting your skin in a wild purposeful frenzy. Eddie knew what he was doing. Every kiss and bruise he made, every contusion in the shades of blues and violets left in the path of his lips only fulfilled him that much more, stroking his vast ego. Eddie didn't want you to ever be able to find another man that could make you feel like this again, that could fuck you right out in the street in the middle of the night like he could. The last thing you had ever wanted was a man like Edward Blake, the thought of craving and needing such a cold callous man having never crossed your mind, and yet you had this dread working through your body, a fear that you would never be able to go without him. Your thoughts were interrupted by the trembling of your legs, your whole body burning with a heat so intense that all you could do was wait for him to relieve you, the teeth you dug into your bottom lip the only thing left stopping you from begging him to.

"That's it, you gonna cum for me baby?" He husked.

You lifted your head and found yourself barely able to breach a word through your quickened, unsteady breaths, eventually managing to muster a frantic nod in response that would have to suffice. Eddie's release seemed to be nearing too, his forehead coated with the perspiration of the sweat he'd broken into despite the chill carrying through the nocturnal breeze, and his thrusts growing impossibly vigorous. You couldn't take it any longer, your whole body quivering with the waves of pleasure that crashed over you, the overwhelming sensation heightening your senses. He held you against him throughout and only continued to work you through it with pitiless thrusts, before his release washed over him. Eddie's throat rumbled with the most guttural of sounds as he released hot, wet spurts inside of you, his sounds of pleasure ultimately dying down to leave you both with nothing but the sound of your agonisingly heavy breaths, and the distant sound of gentle wind passing through Manhattan's streets. He was stilled for a brief moment just to catch his breath, not that he had much breath or composure to chase with stamina like his, and then prompted you to unwrap your legs from him with a pat on the side of your thigh, his other hand still cupping your ass. You did, unwrapping your legs from him and then your arms whilst setting your heels down on the concrete, steadying yourself on your shaky legs. Eddie tucked himself back into his pants and put his large tactical belt back on with a click, meanwhile, you shamefully unrolled your skirt from where it had gathered at your hips. In the underwear department, you were utterly commando thanks to Eddie's carelessness, whereas Eddie looked as though he'd just gone for a walk, asshole.

"Well, thanks for that, doll." He murmured as he retrieved a lighter.

Though a crass way of doing so, he was trying to flatter you somehow.

"Just, keep this between you and me, okay? Things are hard enough without everybody knowing I dropped my panties for The Comedian."

He chuckled and retrieved a fresh cigar, balancing it between his lips as he held the flame of the lighter towards it, the embers roaring aflame and smoke bellowing out almost immediately. With every passing second you'd further feel the extent of the way Eddie handled you, the bruises most likely having already begun to form, and your neck undoubtedly littered with vicious marks. You craved the feel of your bed beneath your spine, the night having been a whole lot more eventful than you'd anticipated, the balls of your feet sore from having been in heels for so long. With your new desired destination of home, you leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on his stubbled cheek, smiling a little as you turned to start the journey home. You took one step when he closed his hand around your wrist and brought you back, turning you to face him again.

"Hey, I think we're a little past that, don't you think? C'mere."

You weren't sure what he was referring to for a moment, and then you felt fingers taking hold of your jaw. He closed the cigar between his index and middle finger with his free hand, inhaling before he removed it from his lips and pressed his lips against yours. Your lips parted wantonly, enabling him to breathe the cigar smoke into your mouth and taste the tobacco on his lips, even down to the liquor on his tongue. The combination had you infatuated, and you had to suppress the urge to ask him for round two when he parted his lips from yours, the warmth of his mouth dying on your lips.

"That's better." Eddie muttered, the hold on your jaw quickly shifting to an oddly gentle hand cupping your cheek.

He smoothed his thumb over a particular area of your cheekbone, and you slightly winced, the sensation suggesting that you'd grazed one side of your face when he'd been pinning you against the brick. Your reaction brought a smile to his lips, considering what it was that you'd received your injuries from. Not entirely sure he'd noticed his rather comical appearance you decided to show him a little compassion, raising your hand and brushing your thumb along his lips in an attempt to wipe off the lipstick you'd smeared over his mouth, and he let you. You thought you'd leave the faint kiss mark on his cheek though, it was hardly revenge when you knew a man such as himself would be happy to sport it as a badge of honour when someone pointed it out, the mark of a lady.

"There, now it doesn't look as much like you got in a fight with some lipstick." You finished your sentence with a small giggle before leaning back, to which Eddie removed his hand from your cheek.

"Okay, now I really gotta go."

He nodded and brought the cigar back to his lips, the smoke tangling in the air and occasionally surrounding him like some kind of makeshift fog. Without warning Eddie reached around you and gave your ass a playful spank, his lips curling into a grin around his cigar from your slightly surprised reaction. If you thought he was a handful before, things were about to get a whole lot worse.

"Night, doll."

He turned on his heel and left, leaving you alone in the unforgiving evening chill, and covered with the marks of his rough treatment. You supposed it best you get used to this feeling, as you suspected you'd be encountering it again sometime soon.

No, you were sure of it.

#jeffrey dean morgan #the comedian #edward blake #watchmen #thecomediansmut #jeffrey dean morgan smut #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #thecomedian x reader #edwardblake x reader #watchmen 2009