#Lullaby (2022) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ashintheairlikesnow · 2 years

Text

A Lot Like Christmas

CW: Pet whump, dehumanized whumpee, references to beatings and torture, burns, sadistic whumper

Antoni’s tag | Masterlist (scroll down)

For @amonthofwhump, day 3: Forced Celebration

On Christmas morning, the ashtray wakes up on his little cot in his tiny room to cold sunlight through the bars of his high, small window. His nose is so cold that it feels like it all but burns his hand when he presses a palm against it to warm it, burying himself even further under the scratchy but warm wool blankets he is given in winter.

The light makes a broken square on the floor, and he lays there watching it slowly move, bit by bit, as the quality of the light changes.

All down his back the newest burns ache and itch. They’re slathered with the heavy, healing cream that would keep him from scarring if Mr. Davies did not burn him again and again in the same places. As it is, his master is pressing new burns over old scars, and the ashtray shifts only a little as the itching grows with every second he thinks about it, gripping hands onto his collar to keep himself grounded, to feel safe.

Last night had been a night of bourbon, warm and brown in a glass, clove cigarette smoke down his throat filling up his lungs, holding perfectly still for every bright hot pain until finally he could not hold back his whimper.

Last night had ended like so many nights end now, the smoke driven out of his throat by something he will not think about, will not remember, will simply put somewhere else in his mind. Mr. Davies, afterward, had fed him sips from the glass of bourbon and whispered, “It’s after midnight. Merry Christmas,” and sent him with a jar of the salve to his bed, to rub all the wounds he could reach and ignore, as hard as he can, the greater wounds inside.

A bird calls outside the window.

Eventually, he hears the sound of Mr. Davies on the stairs, and he pushes himself up to seated and then to standing. His feet freeze on the chilly concrete floor, and he shivers in the loose sweats he is allowed to wear.

It takes four steps to cross from bed to door, three if he lengthens his strides.

He opens the door, peering out into the hallway. The warmer air in the heated part of the house hits him like walking into a wall, and he comes to a sudden stop and lets his skin prickle and goosebump as it acclimates. The burns itch worse in warmth, but he ignores that and pads barefoot down the hall, walking on the heavy soft rug.

He can hear the clinking of silverware against dishes as he nears the kitchen. His own stomach twists, empty and light, at the scent of freshly-baked cinnamon rolls. He enters with his eyes down, letting his gaze move to Mr. Davies’s feet in his fuzzy fur-lined slippers.

“Ah, the lazy little pet wakes,” Mr. Davies says, with amusement. “Say Merry Christmas, darling.”

The ashtray looks up to follow his command, only to realize it isn’t meant for him.

Next to Mr. Davies is the woman, who looks at him with blank eyes that see but don’t comprehend. She just stares at him, blinking once or twice, and then says in a soft voice, “Merry Christmas.”

The ashtray thinks she probably had a lovely way of speaking, a long time ago. She forms each word like a singer, all enunciation and melody, but it’s a harsh rasp now, a broken violin voice.

Her hair is perfectly curled and pulled back at her nape, with tendrils framing her face. Her lower lip is busted, a burst of bright red where she was bleeding, but she doesn’t even seem aware of it. She just puts a forkful of cinnamon roll into her mouth and chews. Any awareness she had of him seems gone in an instant.

“Very good, love.” Mr. Davies is rubbing her back with one hand. If she tenses a little at the touch, it isn’t obvious beneath the warm, fluffy robe she wears in a deep royal purple lined with gold thread embroidery. “Say Merry Christmas, ashtray.”

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Davies. Merry Christmas, ma'am." The ashtray’s voice is low, carefully shaping each word to make his accent as slight as possible. He almost succeeds, and it’s enough to win a rare smile from his master. He doesn’t feel warm at the sight of it - only the absence of any new fear of punishment.

“Come and eat,” Mr. Davies says, gesturing broadly.

The ashtray’s eyes drop to discover an empty plate and set of silverware, a mug of steaming coffee with a little carafe of cream beside it. He dares to look back at Mr. Davies, and finds him smiling.

"... at the table?”

“Yes, at the table, you brainless thing. Sit.”

The ashtray moves forward, jerking like a puppet moved by strings, and finds himself sitting at the table staring across at the woman, who doesn’t look at him anymore, only off to the side, as if dazed or dreaming. There are bruises layered dark over her wrists, in the shape of the ropes Mr. Davies ties her with at night. She sleepwalks, he explained once to the ashtray, who had not asked. He’d said it like testing out the story, the way you practice a speech to a wall. She’ll wander out into the street and get hit by a car, you know. I have to keep her in one place. Anything could happen if she leaves.

There’s a threat, in those words, and the ashtray heard it. He only nodded, and wondered what in his face had made Mr. Davies feel the need to explain.

Her black eye from last week has nearly healed, which he knows only means another one is coming soon.

The cook puts a cinnamon roll on his plate, and the ashtray thanks him. He receives no reply, but he didn’t expect one either.

Warm, fluffy cinnamon-sugar sweetness bursts in his mouth when he eats, and he shivers at how unfamiliar it is to eat warm food, or to eat anything that tastes this good at all. He exhales, and takes another bite, and another. Somehow, the whole thing disappears into his mouth before he even understands that he’s eating it.

He stops when Mr. Davies starts to laugh, with cruel good humor, and looks up, briefly meeting those cold eyes.

“... Mr. Davies, I’m sorry, I did not mean to eat so quickly-”

“Hush. Call it a gift. I’ve nothing for you under the tree, after all.” He turns to the woman, who doesn’t look at him, only stares through the window at the trees outside, as if she could will herself out there if only she could remember how to walk out. Mr. Davies leans over to give her a kiss to the side of her head, and the ashtray watches her eyes briefly close, then open again to focus back on the world just beyond the walls.

“Darling,” Mr. Davies says in a low voice, “My ashtray and I need a smoke, I think. Will you go and wait by the tree for me? I’ll open your gifts for you afterward.”

The woman looks at the ashtray.

Just for a moment, something surfaces from beneath the still pool of her mind. She knows what happens when he and Mr. Davies are alone in the office, he thinks. And for just a second, he can see that she feels all the grief for him that he tries to feel for her.

Then her expression goes blank again and she nods, standing and drifting into the grand living room where the 12-foot-tall Christmas tree glistens with perfectly coordinated ornaments, tinsel, and a star on top.

The last the ashtray sees of her is how she sits on the couch with her hands in her lap, and turns her eyes back to the window.

Then Mr. Davies’s hand is on the back of his neck, and the ashtray’s stomach flips. Suddenly that perfect warm soft sweet bread sits like a brick in his stomach, and he wonders if he’ll keep anything down after they’re done. Sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes after-

But it’s not happening.

It doesn’t happen to him.

Not if he doesn’t let himself think about it.

Nothing happens in the office.

Mr. Davies is already lighting a cigarette, the scent of cloves is settling against his skin and soaking into his hair, his sweatshirt and sweatpants, burying itself so far down in his lungs that he will never escape the way it steals his breath.

The burns from last night itch.

The older ones do, too, as the ashtray follows Mr. Davies to the office and wonders where the new ones will go now.

His master’s hand rests at the base of the ashtray’s spine, stealing up under his sweatshirt to press like a brand against his skin.

The ashtray burns long before the embers ever touch him.

Mr. Davies hums as he walks.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas…

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @arlinthesnep @thefancydoughnut @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @emdeighamae @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

#amow winter whumperland 2022 #whump #forced celebration #holiday whump #christmas whump #antoni sings lullabies #dehumanization #pet whump #domestic violence tw #drugged whumpee #(not antoni but still)#burns tw #cigarette burns #sadistic whumper #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #amow #amow winter whumperland #winter whumperland

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nosferatvpussy · 2 years

Text

distorted lullabies [chapter XXIII]

Word count: 4k

Warnings: the usual // +18

Pairing: Dracula x reader

AO3 link | masterlist

Summary: Reader gets ready for the opera and Dracula thinks he has a moment of postnut clarity. Our girl is done with his shit.

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At the white glare of a morning cloudy sky, my eyes opened, quite unwillingly. I opened my mouth to ask Dracula to close the curtains when I noticed his absence and smiled at my own blunder. The covers at my side still held the shape of his body where he lay so the sunrise couldn’t have been more than an hour ago.

I slipped out the bed glancing at the clock and saw it was almost 8am already. My alarm hadn’t gone off and I’d slept in more than usual. A shower should startle me awake.

As I undressed in my bathroom, my shirt chafed at my back and the memory of being massaged, or almost skinned considering his brutality -- although surprisingly enjoyable -- returned. I turned my back on the mirror and tried to look over my shoulder to see the state of my skin. Not a mark in sight, though it glistened as if the skin was raw and new. Reaching, I experimented with feeling it with the tips of my fingers. I hissed when a nail accidentally scraped it but other than that, it felt only a bit sensitive. It was a small bother compared to the head splitting migraine from last night. When the hot water from my shower hit my back, I expected it to burn upon contact with the apparently new skin there. Instead I found it rather helped. My body throbbed as if the flow of hot water made my heart beat faster and the skin on my back to grow thicker.

After I showered, dressed myself and ate breakfast, I pulled the dress I would be wearing for the night out of the closet and laid it carefully over the bed.

It would be hours until I would have to squeeze myself in there, but I felt an inexplicable urge to stare at it while I worked.

At 9am sharp my phone lit up with Hayes calling. I let it ring. At 10am another call. At 12pm, it was time for Chambers to call. Talbot called at 2pm, Hayes again at 2.30pm. Renfield called at 4pm and I answered.

“Y/N, for Christ’s sake, will you answer one of them? They call me when you don’t answer and they’re driving me mad!”

“Hi, Renfield,” I said in my most pleasant voice. “How are things going for the party?”

“Y/N, it’s no time to be a brat.”

“I’m doing well, yes, thanks for asking!”

He sighed heavily.

“I expect you are. Dracula arrived this morning minutes short of sunrise.”

His answer shook me straight out of my urge to annoy him just for the fun of it. Not only did that mean he had welcomed Dracula into his own penthouse – and possibly spent the night there, on the couch, waiting for him like a dog – Renfield had implied much more through his words. Although nothing had happened last night and I was a grown woman, I flushed in embarrassment.

“They won’t take no for an answer and I am in no mood today to listen to their ravings,” I spit out to disguise my mood.

“They gave you a week.”

“I’m giving myself another day.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“Yes, and I can say no to them at your party, where they won’t be able to annoy me for hours on end. I have work to do, you know, I can’t spend an hour saying no over and over to Hayes.”

“Fair,” he admitted. “Shall I tell them that? That you’ve asked for a stay of proceedings?”

“Those are kind words but yes, tell them that.” I leant back on my chair and straightened up at once as my skin was pulled tautly over my spine. “Ow.”

“Ow?” Renfield echoed.

“Nothing,” I said as I stood up from my chair and started pacing around the room. “Is Dracula awake yet? The sun is starting to set.”

“Asleep. Before he went to bed, he mentioned that he would be picking you up at 8.”

“Oh. Good, hm.” How awkward was this? “How are the preparations for the party tomorrow coming along?” I repeated, silently cursing myself.

“Fantastic,” Renfield said shortly. “Y/N, piece of advice… call the police if you’re worried about being stalked by Zoe’s people. Scotland Yard doesn’t need to know the whole story, only that you’re being watched and feel threatened.”

I opened my mouth to fight it, out of sheer need of countering the simplicity of his argument, but, simple as it was, it could prove effective.

“Dracula told you?”

“He asked me to keep an eye on you during daylight. I can’t be with you all hours and the police will prove more able than I should Zoe decide to take action, which I doubt will happen. Yet, it would set the master’s mind at ease. And mine, as well,” he completed.

“Okay. I’m sure the police have their hands full of lawyers with death threats, but I’ll give them a call this afternoon.” I sighed. “It can’t hurt to give them a description of Raoul as well.”

“You do that. Enjoy your date at the opera tonight.”

The phone became mute before I thought of an answer.

____________________________________________________

“Oof!” I made for the second time.

“Oh, so sorry, dear,” Diana said between gritted teeth, peering over my shoulder to look at me through the mirror’s reflection. She tugged again and my waist gained a cinched shape that made me gasp. “I didn’t tighten that much- oh. Oh.” She seemed to comprehend that this time I hadn’t gasped for air, but out of surprise. The both of us stared at my body reflected in the mirror. Not a piece of clothing in my closet flattered me this much. The corset bustier forced my posture into a severe elegance that suited me. I didn’t know my waist could look like that or that my breasts, although suffering from PMS aches squeezed in there, looked sexy instead of whorish.

“Pity I’m not a man,” Diana murmured, raising her eyebrows as if in contemplation, and making me laugh. “Honestly! And you said Dracula bought you this? You didn’t try it on beforehand?”

I shook my head, and she nodded hers, still a little transfixed. Admittedly, I was too as I ran my hands down my sides, feeling the accentuated curve from my waist down my hips. I turned around, sweeping my hair away, and gazed at the laced up bustier digging into my back. The skin still had a light sheen to it but hours since the abuse it had taken, the soreness and sensitivity had subsided to a faint tingling.

Diana left me to twirl in front of my reflection and went to rummage through the things scattered on my bed.

“What time is it?” I asked as I leaned to the mirror, pushing my eyelashes up with my fingertips as if that could have the power to curve them even more than mascara had.

“Uh, seven forty. He should be getting here in a few. Try these on with the choker,” she said, turning around from the bed with both her hands held out. A pair of teardrop earrings made of mother-of-pearl blinked at me from her left hand. In her right hand, a thin band of black velvet trimmed with lace of the same colour. Small, delicate pearls stood on the tips of the lace and a large pearl dangled on the centre of the choker. “I must have worn this once or twice. Don’t think I have the neck for it, although it’s very pretty.”

“Where did you get it?” I asked, taking the choker from her.

“Antiquity store quite a while back. The shop owner said it’s Italian but I don’t know how honest he was.” She shrugged. “Let me help you with it,” she said, extending her hand for it.

For a second, I started pulling my hair up, but then I remembered myself.

“I’ve got it.” I smiled. “You know, I think it’s quite cold outside. I’m worried the stole won’t do it. Do you have something else to lend me? If not, I think I’ll take my trench coat…”

“Trench coat with that dress?! I’ll lock you up for that. No, no, no…” she trailed off, already heading for the bedroom’s door. “I’ll find you something.”

With Diana gone, I turned to the mirror again. I hooked the earrings to my earlobes quickly and twisted my hair up in a knot so I could work the clasp on the choker. My eyes lingered on the light serrated scars on each side of my neck. The freshest one sparked alive when the choker brushed it, sending a shiver to my spine that finished in a ball below my navel.

I drew a breath in.

I knew that feeling.

Shaking my hair down, I shoved my phone in a tiny purse where the tickets were already safely kept, grabbed the pair of Louboutin’s waiting for me by my dresser and practically pranced down the stairs to the first floor. I stopped on the last step, staring at the bottom of the front door, balancing on one leg at a time to fit the shoes on.

The pull on my navel tightened a moment before a light flickered on beneath the front door.

There were only hours since I last saw Dracula but excitement filled me either way as I turned the doorknob. Smiling big, I swung the door open to reveal him filling the doorframe.

“You’re early,” I told him but I barely registered my own words.

I stared at Dracula. He stared back.

I think he said something, that, again, I didn’t register.

A black striped silk scarf was draped around his shoulders, falling down his chest to frame a magnificent damask burgundy waistcoat, half concealed by the long suit jacket. The matte black tie contrasted against the white shirt. With the sheen of the scarf and waistcoat, the effect was rather striking. The light hitting the scarf and the imposing wideness of his shoulders inside that suit kept stealing my attention to form a more elaborate response than simply staring stupidly.

To my delight, he seemed a little lost for words as well. But instead of staring continuously as I did, he stepped forward and seized my waist in his hands. I felt the weight of them. Dracula lowered his face to mine. I pressed my lips to his only to amuse him but turned my cheek when he tried for something more.

“I just finished doing my makeup,” I told him as he kissed my earlobe. “Let’s not ruin it before we go out.”

A low rumble came from him - whether in agreement or not, I couldn’t tell - and, as if dropping the subject entirely, he forced me round with a twist to my waist. My feet tangled over each other. Gasping in surprise, I had to lean into him so I wouldn’t tumble and he took that as an opportunity to follow the deep curves of my waist to the rest of my body. His left hand drifted down to my hip and lingered there as he apparently detected something to his interest. Exploring still, his hand slid back to gather a firm grip on my ass.

“You seem to be lacking something,” he stated, almost matter-of-factly as if he wasn’t veritably groping me.

“Very perceptive,” I taunted. Dracula squeezed my ass again, his fingers biting into the inside of my buttock. I let out a strangled noise as I tried to shift away from his grip but once he released me, the lingering touch was more pleasurable than painful. “Underwear doesn’t go with this dress,” I panted. “It shows through the fabric.”

“Really?” His tone was almost disinterested as both hands were now uptaking the task of exploring each and every curve of my hips. Then, his lips were on my exposed shoulders, rovering over my back. I shivered and bent my back at the feel of his lips on the fresh skin. “Do you mind being late?”

“No, but I do mind showing up looking a mess.” I turned my head to look over my shoulder at him. His eyes, hungry and red, were on my throat. I grabbed his face to make him focus and he met my gaze. I understood by his look alone that he didn’t really care about the opera or me looking a mess.

The creak of the back door opening dissipated the moment as Dracula glanced up in alertness. Quick steps sounded from the kitchen to the hall. I stepped away from Dracula, trying to disguise that we were moments away from tearing each other’s clothes off.

“Y/N, I’ve got just the thing-” Diana cut her phrase short as she appeared from behind the stairwell and saw us. She cast the coat she held over an arm. “Oh.” The brown in her eyes appeared dull for a fraction of a second, but a polite smile curved her mouth and gave life to her face. She glanced between Dracula and I.

“Di, this is Count Dracula. He was a bit early,” I added, as if that was meant to remedy the awkwardness. “She was very excited to meet you,” I told Dracula and I wondered how I made the words sound so casual. “I’ll spare many introductions. You both know a lot about each other already because of me.”

Ever the gentleman, Dracula took Diana’s hand and kissed it. She looked at me as he did so and I shrugged in unspoken conversation - “really?” “told you”.

“She talks a lot about you,” Diana said when he let her go. “But meeting the man is always quite different from knowing of him.”

“Always,” he agreed, smiling down at her. “I hope I didn’t hurt your expectations.”

“You’re exactly what I expected,” she replied quickly, a frozen smile on her mouth. I narrowed my eyes. “Count, what do you think of lunch on Saturday? It would be lovely to have you over and get to know Y/N talks about so often.”

“My mornings are eternally busy, I’m afraid, and this Saturday I’ll be hosting a party at my home. I’m sure Y/N’s told you-” he looked at me and I nodded in confirmation “-you should come. If you want to evaluate me, and I do believe that’s what you want to do, you can do so there.”

Diana laughed. I was sure it was the laugh she used for corporate meetings - polite, short and a little contemptuous.

“I’ll come.” She stepped aside from him and handed me the coat. Heavy black and grey fur caressed my skin as I threw it over me. “Don’t want to be late. Tell me all about it later?”

With that and a last surveying look at Dracula, Diana made her way back and left with the same creak of the closing door.

“She doesn’t like you,” I blurted as he turned to me.

“She knows something is off about me,” he said, grabbing the doorknob. “I don’t think she remembers what I did, as you suspect.”

“That’s comforting,” I replied, although it was not.

Cutting, bone-chilling wind put Diana out of my mind as we stepped out into the night and I locked my door. When I turned around, I found Count Dracula holding the passenger door of his car open for me. My gaze lingered on the cufflinks on his outstretched arm, the dark rubies winking at me under the streetlights, and the waistcoat tight over his torso, accentuating his noble posture. He narrowed his eyes with a slight tilt of his head as I continued staring. Then the wind slipped under my coat and I was reminded of the freezing cold. I rushed past him, fumbling to throw my keys inside my purse, and took my seat on the passenger side.

Dracula slid beside me with a slam to his door. He opened his jacket to sit more comfortably and flipped the ignition. We shot through the road. His legs underlined the fabric of his trousers as he changed gears. Lean muscles tensed and relaxed as I watched. The light coming and going from outside barely highlighted his profile with how darkly tinted the windows were.

“What did you do to me last night?” I questioned, observing him.

“Healed you,” he replied.

“With a massage?” I scoffed.

He glanced at me.

“A massage,” he repeated, and chuckled in that way I hated so much, like he knew something I didn’t. “Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“Why should I?” He asked, leaning back in his seat as he held the wheel with only one hand.

“Because I’m asking you to.”

Again, he chuckled.

“No.”

With his square shoulders set back, his body relaxed as he drove in feigned concentration.

I did remember, at least, I thought I did. But something was missing. He knew it and wouldn’t give me the answer. What he wouldn’t give, I would take.

“Make a right here,” I said, giving into impulse.

“But this is the quickest way,” he replied even as he obeyed me.

“There are tolls on that road.” I kicked my shoes off. My heartbeat accelerated.

He smirked.

“And your point is?” He prodded.

“You would have to lower your window at some point.” I removed my seat belt, bent my legs under me as far as the dress would allow and leaned across the centre console. Dracula turned his head to look at me as my chin rested on his shoulder. “I can’t have that right now,” I breathed. “Eyes on the road.”

For a moment too long, he stared deep into my eyes, his smirk growing into a smile as he fully understood my intention, then he raised his left arm to give me space and put his eyes back on the road.

Keeping my lips to his ear, I reached between his legs, feeling the most promising outline of his cock through his trousers growing rigid to my touch. I took his earlobe between my teeth. He tilted his head in response, shoulders tensing and relaxing as a chill came and went through him. I undid his trousers carelessly. The steering wheel let out a sound of complaint as Dracula tightened his hand around it. To my utter fascination, I saw that he had his bottom lip caught between his teeth. My hand drifted lower, fingers brushing against the distinct hardness hidden beneath the fabric of his boxers. He exhaled. Content, I pushed his underwear aside and bent down, settling on my knees and elbows so I could reach him and bestow a generous lick down his length. I taunted him with licks and brushes of lips and in return, he twisted my hair around his hand.

“Put your tongue out,” he said between his teeth.

Opening my mouth, I did. He raised his hips slightly as he forced my head down. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced my tongue out as far as it would go to stop myself from choking as he hit the back of my throat. He thrust upward once again with complete disregard, past my defences, and I pulled back, gasping for breath. A sound between a groan and a laugh came from him.

Mocking laughter.

Grasping him tightly, I brought the soft contours of the head of his cock to my tongue. Dracula kept a firm hold over my hair as I fell into rhythm. Tears nearly leaking out of my eyes, I took as much of him as I could down my throat. Drool cascaded out of my mouth as I pulled back. I stroked his cock and left sloppy kisses along his shaft as I tried to catch my breath. Rasping groans escaped from him. He sounded the same way when he was inside me, and my body responded. My breasts felt heavier, my nipples puckered to hypersensitivity, and my loins swelled while wetness slicked my inner thighs. That arousal made me move my head a little faster, drawing on him harder. His grip on my hair tightened.

The car swerved and jostled to a stop. I started lifting my head but he raised his hips and held me still.

“Ahh, good.”

Something about the way he spoke seemed to sink in and I took his cock deeper as I tried desperately to suck and breathe at the same time. My hair was released for a brief second before being pulled again, guiding my head to his own pace. A large hand, the one that was supposed to be steering the car before, began traversing down my back only to find rest on my ass sticking up in the air. “Again, pet.” Eyes filled with tears, gagging and choking, I obeyed, if only to hear him moan again in that way that seemed both demanding and pleading. “Good, good,” he said, and I thought ‘more, more’.

His groans became louder until they reverberated inside the car. I felt his legs tremble, heard a breath leave his body when it didn’t belong there, felt his fingers digging on my behind, and then tasted him on my tongue as his groans subsided. Still, I kept him encased inside my mouth, attempting to drain all that he could give.

He pulled my head back by the roots of my hair and raised me to eyelevel. I swallowed hurriedly, before I let anything spill, as I continued grasping his cock. It was a shiny, slobbery mess.

My chest heaved with deep, rewarding breaths. Gaze turning to the man at my side, I found him with his head resting back, eyes shut. Fangs loomed behind his parted lips.

“Such a brat,” he sighed.

“Brat?” I prodded, stroking his cock slowly. He tensed.

“You’ll do anything to get what you want.” He chuckled, showing me more serrated white teeth.

“Well? Have I earned it?”

“I spoil you too much.”

A racket of noise from outside filtered in and I let go of him in alarm, recoiling to sit on my ankles, before I realised it was people leaving a pub down the street where the car was parked.

Dracula adjusted himself, apparently unbothered by the interruption, and wiped a hand down his trousers.

“You’re still scared of me,” he murmured, as he continued analysing his trousers.

That was his response after that?

“I’m not,” I protested at once.

“What did I do to you yesterday, Y/N?” He asked, turning his face toward mine too quickly. His face was unnervingly closer than a fraction of a second before. My heart pumped harder. But not with fear. I wouldn’t allow that.

“Healed me,” I repeated his own words back.

“How?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. I opened my mouth to give him an acidic answer. “Think. You are much too clever.”

“You bit me,” I breathed out without a second thought. “Several times,” I completed as I thought of the cold pressure on my back. But no scars to attest to that fact, which meant he had licked all the wounds away, as he had once done to my breast. If I was right, that justified the feeling of raw skin on my back.

“I didn’t drink your blood, though. Not much of it.”

The corners of my lips curled.

“And you think I forgot about it- rather, I erased it from my memory because I’m still scared of you? Please.”

“I bit you repeatedly last night and you have no memory of it,” he said.

“Didn’t feel like bites. It felt a lot like-” a clear image of Dracula hovering over my back, sharp teeth biting and pulling my skin to meet the cold and cavernous inside of his mouth. Blood coalescing but not being drawn to pour. “Cupping.” A questioning look appeared in his eyes. “Alternative medicine, that’s what you did. It’s used to draw sickness out and clean toxins,” I finished, divided between wanting to find it fascinating and funny. “You learned it from the Turks.” I gave him a smile. “It’s very popular now.”

“Entirely not the point,” he muttered, and leaned back to his seat.

“Isn’t it?” I carried on as I sat straight. “Maybe doing that on some damsel of yore could have elicited some kind of- what? Horrified and disgusted reaction? I know what you are, and it’s the 21st century as you are well aware. Not much mystery going around. So you snuck into my room, quite literally sucked the pain from my body and healed me better than medicine ever could, and I’m thankful, but not scared.” I exhaled harshly. “I don’t know how many times I have to repeat myself. I’m not bloody scared of you. Stop trying to test me and push me away.”

I angled the rearview mirror towards me. My makeup was mostly intact, which was somewhat of a miracle. My hair on the other hand was a different story.

Dracula’s black gaze was fixed on mine through the mirror. Empty. It cut through my stomach.

“We’re late,” I grumbled.

Staring straight through me, he put the car in first gear, then looked away and sped off.

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A/N: So, hot and (slightly) angsty, my favourite combo. He's having a hard time fully coming to terms with this relationship. He still expects her to run off. He never quite stopped believing it. And now she's like a dog with a bone :)

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In another note, I am SO excited for the next chapter!! I've been thinking about it for months and it came out exactly how I wanted to. It'll accompany a small playlist to set the tone, so you can read while listening to the pieces that inspired me.

Same time next week.

@plutonianvenusiangoddess @rheabalaur @deborahlazaroff @thorin-smokin-shield @girlonfireice @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @saint-hardy @xoxodracula @princessayveke @dreamer2381 @25ocurer @vampirescurse @blue-serendipity @sunscreenfeverdream @iwasjustablur @daydreaming136 @hello-itsbarbie @bittenlove @newyorkrican922 @soph3228 @feralstare @clussysposts @jmor25 @spnkpholland @goddessofmischief03 @mistandmoss @luciahoneychurch @candleslut @theswiftnational @soulofsalt @werwulfy @skelior @cesspitoflove @hiphop-gir @mymindpalaceismywonderland @lddracula @festering-queen @rainbowgoblinfan @sweet-delila @jar-of-moondust

#distorted lullabies #dracula x reader #dracula 2020 #dracula bbc #dracula 2022 #dracula fanfic #dracula fic #dracula x oc #claes bang #claes bang dracula #vampire fanfic

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dearly · 1 year

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LAIA COSTA in Cinco Lobitos / Lullaby (2022)

#laia costa #lullaby 2022 #cinco lobitos #film #alauda ruiz de azúa

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rewatcher · 2 years

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So, a little thing about Erza from my many times watching this:

She has a hard time picking up social cues. Especially early on. So, while everyone else knows that Gray and Natsu are clearly putting on an act, Erza doesn't see that. She legitimately believes they're good friends. Or at least believes that that's just how good / best friends act.

I don't know what to do with knowledge, so here you go.

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patwrites · 8 months

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“I said shalom, bitch.”

Truly one of the lines of all time

#lullaby 2022

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lovestereo · 2 years

Audio

#lullaby #b.i #hanbin #chuu #loona #2022 #2020s

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the-iceni-bitch · 2 years

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Le plus pur, le plus émouvant

Kinktober Day 6: Omegaverse

Pairing: Alpha!Ransom Drysdale x wife!Omega Reader (YNGDTTGA)

Words: ~1.7k

Summary: You need your Alpha

Warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR YOU’LL NEVER GO DOWN TO THE GODS AGAIN, explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, soft sex), mention of post-pregnancy symptoms, very soft protective Ransom with just a hint of soft!dark, anxiety, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: Mentioned above but there are massive spoilers for the future of Ransom and bunny so if you want to read the story chronologically, skip this one!

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

You couldn’t stop pacing as you waited for your Alpha to come home, the frustration and anger you had felt through the bond all afternoon making it almost impossible for you to stay in your nest with your pup even though he had told you he wanted you to rest. But you couldn’t when you were constantly feeling that thread of agitation tugging at your hindbrain, knowing that he must have been especially upset if he wasn’t able to mask the bond.

He was close now, you could feel him, cooing and purring unconsciously to try to soothe yourself and your pup when you felt her stir against your chest as you kept rocking her gently. Hopefully he wouldn’t be angry at you for not letting the nanny take her when you left the nest, but the only thing that managed to keep you even slightly calm when he wasn’t there was feeling her tiny heartbeat fluttering against your chest. She was so precious and small and you didn’t trust anyone else to take care of her.

Then you heard the slam of a car door and keened when you felt his presence drawing nearer, kissing the top of your baby’s head and trying to take deep breaths while you braced yourself to greet your Alpha. As soon as the door opened and you saw him you started to feel better, the sight of his face relaxing when he set eyes on you making you preen as you shuffled to meet him.

“No, bunny, what are you doing out of the nest?” The stress of having to deal with fucking asshole congressmen all day disappeared immediately when he saw you, dropping his case and rushing to you when he heard you let out another distressed sound. “Where the fuck is the nanny? And your nurse? I’m gonna tear that fucking agency apart…”

“I was so worried, I could feel how angry you were.” You whimpered when he scooped your little girl into one arm while he wrapped the other around your waist, chirping when he scented your hair and running your hands over his chest. “Who made you so upset? My Alpha, I hate when you’re not here.”

“Oh god, bunny, I know, shh.” Ransom tried not to snarl openly when the nanny finally showed up and took the babe from him, crooning softly at you when you tried to reach out for her as he wrapped you in his arms and slid a hand to cradle the back of your neck. “She’s asleep, it’s okay. I’m done with this bill now, bunny, I won’t have to leave you again for a long time, I promise.”

“Ha-hate it, need you.” You gazed up at him with watery eyes as you let out a pathetic little hiccup, gripping the front of his shirt in your fists and rising on your tiptoes so you could scent his neck. “We both need you, don’t feel safe when you’re not here, my Alpha.”

“Bunny, baby, I’m here. I’d never let anything happen to you.” He let his chest rumble against yours when he heard you whimper, kissing the crown of your head and trying to send soothing reassurance through the bond. “Do you want me to hire more security, bun? I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I just want you.” You trilled when his fingers brushed over your mark, kissing the hollow of his throat and winding your arms around him while you tried your best to crawl into his skin. “You’re the only one who can protect us, only one I trust. Our nest is so empty when you’re not here.”

“I know, sweet bunny, I’m sorry.” Ransom chuffed when he finally felt you starting to relax, rubbing his cheek against your temple and holding the nape of your neck before tilting your face up as he kept trying to calm you. “My Omega.”

His fingers pressed on your gland and you melted instantly, sighing when he lifted you off the ground and started to carry you towards your bedroom. When he scruffed you like this it made you feel like you were floating, purring as you nuzzled at his chest and squeezed your thighs together when slick started leaking out of you.

Ransom really did hate leaving you, even before he’d finally managed to breed you. You were so sensitive and soft and ever since you had the baby you were even more prone to anxiety, the scandal that surrounded your wedding and all the court hearings leading you to withdraw even more until you refused to leave the house unless it was absolutely necessary. He did love that, though, knowing that you were protected and that none of those fucking activists could try to make a mascot out of you. You were his, he never wanted anyone else to touch you ever again.

“Alpha…” your voice was low and sultry and full of need when he finally laid you down in your nest, the combined scent of both of you along with his weight on top of you making you feel safe and sated, your limbs curling around him once he finally slid out of his clothes and started pressing his lips to your skin.

“Tell me what you need, Omega.” He kissed the insides of your wrists softly and purred when you chirped for him, rubbing his nose up your arm until he could bury his face in your throat and inhale your scent, his nostrils flaring when even more slick poured out of you and stained your sheets. “My ‘Mega, lemme take care of you. Are you swollen at all, bunny? When was the last time she ate?”

“‘M okay, oh!” You gasped when he unbuttoned the front of your nightgown and cupped your breasts as he kept chuffing into your hair, your tongue sliding across your bottom lip as you writhed underneath him. “She ate just a few hours ago… please, I need your knot, Alpha, always feel better when you’re inside me, my Alpha.”

“Omegamine, shhhhhhh.” Ransom crooned against your cheek as he rolled you onto your side, settling behind you and running his hands over your shoulders as he pressed his lips to the mark of your bond while you melted into him. “My good girl, so sweet for me, so warm.”

The feeling of your soft cunt stretching to take him as he slid inside you almost made him lose it, his lips increasing their pressure on your gland as you arched your back and let your body sink into him. He was still so tender with you, though, gently cradling your chin in one hand while the other held your waist as he slowly rocked his hips into you.

Every soothing sound he made against your skin was like a balm for your heart, the waves of affection and love and calm he was sending through the bond making warmth bloom in your chest. You never felt more content than when you were full of him, cooing and whimpering every time his hips met yours as you leaned your cheek in his palm.

Ransom groaned when he felt your cunt start to clench around him in waves, the arm around your waist pulling you closer as his lips trailed over the back of your neck. He let you press your body back into his as he kept slowly moving, knowing how much better you felt when as much of your skin as possible was touching his.

“My good girl, letting me take care of you, giving you what you need, my ‘mega.” His teeth scraped over your mark and you let out a long whine, gushing all over his cock and letting your eyes flutter closed as you lost yourself in him. “You feel better, bunny? I know you do, know how to take care of my ‘mega, what this sweet body needs. Tell me how it feels, bunny.”

“Alpha, it’s so good, so full.” You were floating at this point, nothing in your brain but your Alpha and his cock and the way he held you so gently and made you feel loved. “Don’t stop, don’t leave me.”

“Never, I’ll never leave you, bunny.” He felt tears starting to leak down your cheeks and rumbled to soothe you, sucking on your gland and waiting until he felt pure bliss starting to seep through the bond before he sank his teeth into your mark.

Your entire body vibrated as you fell apart with a choked off wail, your pussy fluttering wildly and milking Ransom’s cock while you deepened the arch in your back and begged him for more. He knew what the change in your breathing meant, what you wanted when you made that soft breathy whine. Ransom rolled you onto your stomach as he kept his body pressed close to yours, driving into you slow and deep and keeping his teeth sunk into your mark as he grew closer to his own pleasure.

The only warning you had was a soft grunt he let out into your skin before his knot swelled and his cum started spurting into your swollen cunt, sinking into the bed with a moan when he locked inside you even as his hips kept rolling against your ass. You purred when he wound his fingers through yours once he was finished, turning your head so he could nuzzle at your cheek while he breathed heavily.

“My bunny, is that better?” He kissed your temple and smiled softly when you nodded, rolling you back onto your sides as his knot started to go down but he kept himself buried in your soft heat. “Do you need food? Water? I know you have trouble eating when you’re worried, bunny.”

“Mm, I am hungry, Alpha.” You sighed when he pulled out of you, letting him grab a warm cloth to clean between your legs before he helped you pull your nightgown back on and tucked you under the blankets. “I want her back, Alpha, please?”

“Of course, bunny, whatever you need.” Ransom kissed you softly before pulling on a pair of sweats and heading towards the kitchen, he was going to have to call Rogers about keeping the fucking lobbyists off his back until it was time for the vote, there was no way he was leaving you again until he knew the fucking staff he hired to take care of you could do their fucking jobs.

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