#draculabbc

[dancinginashesandshadow]

[theplumsoldier]

eyes on me

summary: @yaziee wanted some drac smut so heres a lil something. hope its enough to quench the thirst! pairing: dracula x reader word count: 664 warning: explicit (18+); masturbation, voyeurism.

To Dracula seemingly every situation could be entertaining in some way. After all, you only have the fun you make. He was no hard man to please, especially not to you. Your very presence was enough to calm him, but this time, as he was sitting in the bedroom, working, in the middle of the night, he certainly was not calm.

A blood-red drink in a crystal glass in hand, a pen in the other, and several papers scattered before him, Dracula was currently working through some legal papers. At the light of a dim lamp and a candlestick, he tried his best not to wake you from your sleep.

A couple of hours ago, he had lied with you in the bed, letting you cuddle up against him as you liked to do until you fell asleep. When a soft snore rang through the room, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, before he cautiously left you to dream and stole to work.

But you tossed and turned, leaning to the dip in the bed where his body had earlier rested, and you hugged to his pillow, inhaling the sweet smell of macadamia and almond butter. You smiled cheekily into the memory foam, reminded of how he would use your shampoo, smell your perfumes, and would cue a slideshow of all the pictures of you that could be found in his camera roll.

Despite living through most of his life depending on the blood of prey, he was one big softie.

Dracula heard you moan out, groaning, and then shifting, the creaking of the bed. He did not have to turn around to know you were awake.

"Baby, won't you come snuggle?"

He chuckled deeply, turning in the chair, slouching down and lifting the glass to his lips, letting his eyes roam over your barely covered figure. Your eyes were heavy-lidded, a shine from the thin layer of sweat on your sleepy face, and only the cover only hiding your sex from view. He tasted the blood, thinking to himself you looked like a goddess of purity. But that did not fool him. He knew you better than that.

"I wanna feel you," hummed you, trailing your hand down the valley of your breasts. It was not supposed to be sexually alluring, but meant as a nice caress, imagining the way his hands molded you every night.

"You want to feel me?" chuckled he, his bold eyebrows perking up with a sly smirk, preening in your neediness.

You nodded, moving the pillow and comforter and tapped the spot beside you.

"Feel yourself for me."

Although a pout curled your lip, you could not deny the increased heartbeat banging on your ribcage.

Teasing your finger around your perk nipple, you shifted under the cover, using your feet to pull it lower and lower. Dracula's chin lifted ever so slightly, his dark eyes peeking a look at your already glistening cunt.

Drawing your finger index finger through your folds, a slickness soaked you, allowing you to easily circle your clit.

"Baby," moaned you, longingly, wanting nothing more than him to take over.

"Just like that, my love, keep it up. Eyes on me."

Moving a bit up the pillow, you followed his instructions and watched your man and noticed his finger dipping in the blood. That could be you he was fingering.

Doubling the pressure, your back arched and toes curled, a whimper, or was it a cry, escaping you. You could hear the sounds of your juices, his breathing, too. Clenching around the air, you wet a finger with your arousal and licked it into your mouth.

Sucking hard, you twirled your tongue around the flesh, moaning at the taste of yourself. You had not noticed you had closed your eyes in pleasure, until they opened when you heard him move, whisper "fucking hell", and before you knew it he was rid of all he was clad and bottomed out in your cave.

taglist: @catwomom @opal-stardust @carydorse @mondstein-isis-blog @akboro @gothic-rainbow @wolverinexmenn @lasgaleniel @psychobitchtess @labelladama @bloodhon3yx @xmjolnirs @ayatimascd @micr0bes @lasgaleniel @what-would-wonderwoman-do​ @girlonfireice @undead-notunreasonable @ptite-shit​ @millicentbystanderr @angelicdestieldemon​ @thebeautyofdisorder @damesteph​ @thetruebornwildchild​ @siriusblacksss @badedum-badaboom​ @deny-black​ @malkaviangirl​ @lost-girl-inc​ @punk-courtesan​ @weakling-grace @kokoro-no-yami​ @dracula-s-bride

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter I]

Word count: 2,134 Warnings: none but please keep in mind this story will eventually delve into mature themes so go away if you’re not 18+ Pairing: Dracula x female reader

I’ll try posting a chapter per week. Any constructive criticism and feedback is very welcome (really, english is not my first language so I’ll take any help I can get). I’m waiting for ao3 to e-mail me an invitation so I can post it there, too. 

_______________________________________________________________

He heard her footsteps long before she knocked on his door.

He stood sat on his armchair with a book on his lap, waiting. A loud song reached his ears, making him tilt his head. Hm. Interesting how humans could go around now with a tiny appliance that played music directly in their ears. The gramophone had lost its appeal and the wealth associated with it. Now everybody on the street carried one of those metal and glass slabs with strings attached to it, bobbing their head to their song of choice.

She was humming along with the song as she walked down the corridor to his building. Shifting in his seat, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. A hint of perfume, coffee, strawberries and honey. Curious. Not a scent of her blood yet.

The clicking heels stopped as she paused the music and he rose. He took his time on the way to the door so she could adjust her belongings. Another deep intake of breath and he came to a halt, a sigh escaping his lips. 

Oh, intoxicating.

He found that this new era had brought exquisite new flavours to his taste, but this one… ah, she was a mix of old european blood, found only in the hidden depths of the Carpathian Forest, and the lovely nuance of modernity. That old saying, you are what you eat applied to her as well. Whatever she was in habit of eating or drinking heavily influenced her scent. A nice, well preserved and safely kept bottle of wine, just for him. It quickly overpowered all the other scents surrounding her.

Knock, knock.

Throwing his head back to try and regain his composure, he opened the door. The door handle dented beneath his hand upon laying eyes on her. He expected her to pretty but he was met with far more than that. 

“Yes?”, was all he could manage. 

“I’m Y/N L/N,” she said as if it were explanatory. He stared at her blankly. “Renfield sent me, I’m from the lawyer firm? I brought you some documents to review.” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” he stepped aside, opening one arm to invite her in and putting a smile on display. 

She peered at him from the corner of her eyes as she passed him, quickening her pace as he took another whiff. He would have to be more cautious so as to not scare her away. But if she did flee that would only make him chase her and he would drink her down too quickly, without any appreciation whatsoever. And what a crime that would be.

“I brought you a cell phone, as well. Renfield mentioned you were stripped of yours when you were taken to the Foundation.” She placed her bag on a chair and her briefcase on top of large center table of his flat. She had her back to him, giving an opportunity to analyse her.

The tight clothes and missing fabric was still something he had to get accustomed with but he wasn’t complaining. If anything, he quite liked the fashion of this century. 

The fact that he could see her stockings was outrageous, black with a seam running down the center of her legs. In his time, she would have been lynched for having her undergarments on display like that. The black high heels were a nice touch. And then the tight pencil skirt outlining her curves… It left just enough for his imagination. 

She turned around to see him standing there like a statue, the door still open. Ah, pity. How unfortunate that those shirts were still in fashion. He couldn’t recall the name humans gave it in this era and suddenly he hated it. The collar covered her neck entirely. In fact, now that he realized it the only skin showing on her body was on her face and hands. 

“Count? Are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine, my darling,” he replied, closing the door at last and swallowing down the saliva that had welled up in his mouth. He strode over to her, placing his hands on the chair closest to her. “I apologise for my manners. It has been awhile since I had a guest over, you must think me a terrible host. Please, take a seat. Unfortunately I have only water and wine to offer you.”

She looked derisively to the chair offered to her. Her lips fought a smile and he encouraged it by smiling in return, but, no, she refused to give it to him.

“Renfield was right,” she whispered under her breath but he caught it. Louder, she said “Thank you but I’ll stand. I’m in a hurry today. Don’t you worry about me,” she extended a white box with a picture of that metal slab on the front. A cell phone, she had said. “Here you go, there’s already a simcard in it, your new number is written in the back. I’ve taken the liberty to set it up for you. I placed Renfield’s number on speed dial should you need it, he’s registered as 6. You do know how to handle one of these, right?”

“I catch on fairly fast,” opening the box and retrieving the phone. “And if I need to contact you?” 

“You have no need to contact me. I’m simply running an errand for my boss,” she stated dryly, averting her eyes. “Here, if you could sign these for me to release the rest of your assets,” a pen was offered to him. He plucked it from her small fingers automatically.

It was not often that he met someone that resisted his charms. He could count on one hand, in fact. The Van Helsings, Johnny and now her. At the very least Agatha and Zoe held some interest in him and Johnny had made himself a hero waging vengeance against him - especially now with the Jonathan Harker Foundation.

But not her. Not one sliver of interest.

“Are you signing them or should I come back another da- evening?” she corrected herself, one hand on her hip and another raising to push her hair back. He caught a glimpse of the skin beneath her ear, paler than the rest of her.

He took his time signing each of the documents. When he was done, he gathered the papers in his hands, holding them flush against his chest so she wouldn’t get them and leave. She bit the insides of her cheeks, meeting his eyes with clear annoyance on them. Oh, fiesty. She was an impatient one. Maybe he had caught her on a bad day but he had a feeling she was always like this. He could not stop his smirk, which only made her heart beat faster in anger. 

“And if I want to contact you? I promise you I will make it worth your while.”

“I don’t do dates with clients.”

“I’m not your client.” 

That made her scoff.

“Right. You’re Renfield’s,” her eyes traveled up and down him, granting him a little satisfaction. “Still, I don’t do dates.”

“What if it’s not a date? I am new to London and I would appreciate if someone could show me the sights.”

“I’m not a tour guide,” she replied, her expression hardening. 

“No, you’re a lawyer.”

“I’m well aware. Can I have those back?”, one hand out to him with a raised eyebrow. 

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

Both of her hands went on her hips and she huffed, trying to make herself bigger as if she was demanding respect. The movement made her breasts press through her shirt, giving him a delightful sight. She grabbed her purse, swung it over her shoulder and proceeded to close her briefcase. 

“Fine. Keep them. I’m late to an appointment at court. I’m sure Renfield can send someone else to get those papers. In the meanwhile, enjoy life without all your money.”

“How insolent of you,” he shot back but he was smiling. He doubted she would address him like that if she knew just what he was.

“Yes I am. I don’t have time for games.” 

“This is isn’t a game.”

“Isn’t it? I see right through you. God, and you must think you’re so innovative with all the european sophistication. I bet you’re used to having women throwing themselves at you as soon as you mention you’re a Count.”

“Usually, I don’t have to mention it at all, in fact,” he intervened. She was about to continue but he carried on. “What was Renfield right about?”

Her eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise. He cocked an eyebrow, shaking the papers as if to say he would give them to her if she answered.

“That you are not from here and that you are old fashioned.”

Listening attentively to her heart and how it skipped a beat, he shook his head to the sides.

“That’s not all. What else?”

“He said that you would try and gain my affections.” 

The Count offered her the papers. 

“Perhaps I ought to change lawyers. He clearly speaks more about his own clients than he should. Would you be available?”

And with that she chuckled. Ah, so the façade could be broken… at least for a second. 

“I’m afraid I have a long list of clients at the moment, Count Dracula. If you commit a serious offense you may call on me to represent you,” she took the papers, her fingers briefly brushing against his cold skin. Her eyebrows furrowed but she was quick to conceal her startlement at his temperature.

She was walking to the door as she stuffed the papers inside her bag and he accompanied her.

“I might just murder someone to take you up on your offer,” he said from behind her, in a tone much more serious than he intended. Still, she laughed at that, the sound ringing through the room. 

He courteously opened the door for her and she turned on her heels, extending a hand for him. 

“I apologise for being rude before but I will not apologise for setting boundaries. I hope you understand that, Count. And if you do decide to murder someone make sure to hide the evidence so it will be a good case for us.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

He grinned at her and she smiled back but without the warmth he presented her. A large hand slipped into hers and she shuddered. Gazing down unto her eyes he shook her hand which made her smile grow more confident. She had started to loosen her grip but he held her firmly. He bent forward and his lips caressed the back of her hand. She stared at him the whole time as if hypnotized and for a moment he thought he had gotten her in the palm of his hand but then she blinked and cleared her throat. 

“Boundaries, Count Dracula, you should remember them if we meet again. Goodbye.”

“Bye now, my darling,” he called when she turned her back to him and started marching down the corridor, swaying her hips.

“Boundaries!” she repeated as she entered the elevator.

Before the doors closed he could swear he saw an amused glint in her eyes. 

The Count sat on his armchair again, the book now forgotten as he thought about Y/N. He was still indecisive about what to do with her. Simply draining her would not only be a waste of good blood but as well of character. 

She demanded respect with every step of her heels. He would bet that she could cower many men with that stare of hers. Dracula had never met many lawyers and those that he did meet were fascinating in different ways. Johnny was determined although slightly stupid. Renfield was a slave to his every wish. Should Dracula ask him to retrieve the fattest fish in the sea, the poor man would probably drown trying to get it. But she was an entirely different breed.

So strong-willed that it was a charm all on its own, without even striving for it to be as such. He had heard an expression on the television the other day that he thought might apply well to her - “my way or the highway”.

And such amazing beauty. Make up was far more popular in this century, he could tell, and he was quickly learning it could disguise many unwanted flaws but she used in such a way that it added to her beauty instead of covering it. 

Beautiful, impetuous, resolute… and a sense of humour that was surprisingly dark. 

Ah… She would make quite the bride if she could withstand the change. And if she did not, he would make sure to savour every curve and every last drop of blood in her body.

[menace-y]

Just to remind the entire BBC Dracula fandom that there’s a Discord Server for us right here:

https://discord.gg/ba2jspCr

@alma37 @bang-and-a-blintz @bittenlove @mitsukatsu @gothicdracula @jeonggukieandcream @nosferatvpussy @flutteringphalanges

[crazytxgradstudent]

It’s me.

Just checking in to let everyone know I’m still obsessed. It’s been what, 30 days now? A whole damn month. In therapeutic speak, we call that the formation of a habit. FML

🖤🧛‍♂️🖤

[mr-kisskiss-bangbang]

Pure sex.

[bang-and-a-blintz]

Through the Darkness

Chapter One - The Singing City

Fandom: Dracula (2020)  

Relationship: Dracula/Roxana(OFC)  

Rating: Mature

Summary: Count Dracula survives the events with Zoe Van Helsing, much to his displeasure, and so he journeys onward finding a small, luscious city called New Orleans. What happens when he finds a familiar face that he thought he'd never see again? A story of redemption, friendship, betrayal, passion, food, and, of course, quite a bit of death. He is a vampire, after all.

Warnings: None  

Word Count: 1,411

There is a beat to New Orleans that reverberates in the soul of the city. It is felt in the sidewalks, the earth beneath constantly moving and writhing and creating cracks in the cement that bounce right up to meet the air. Feet dance around the crevices and move forward with a melodic thump, thump, thump. Like a heartbeat. It’s all around. Effortless.

Dracula took an unnecessary deep breath and exhaled with a grin. Yes, it reminded him exactly of a heartbeat - strong, thumping, certain, thriving. The humans walking all around him, each on their own rhythm and sequence, leading them all in different directions but somehow each one seemed to be pulsating towards the same thing. 

He stood atop the steps near the river, across from the chapel of St. Louis Cathedral - the iconic towers peering down upon the people below and gleaming brightly in its false righteousness. A mimicry of the depravity that daily occurred below. 

The strong current of the Mississippi River flowed steadily down and outward towards the gulf. It was rugged and muddled with red and brown. The Count reminisced of how much blood had helped taint the color. Tilting his head slightly, he briefly pondered how many people he himself had thrown into the unrelenting waters. 

Speaking of which, he realized with a short huff that he was running late for a meeting with some potential clients. Adjusting his jacket against the unnaturally brisk winter air that settled in the city, his menacingly dark figure cut through the growing crowds with ease as he sauntered down the cobblestone road and into the courtyard of the old French Quarter apartment building. His lawyer, a descendent of Renfield and who conveniently had the same name, was waiting dutifully for his master’s arrival with three large decanters full of fresh blood.

“Ah hello there, dark lord, how was the Quarter this evening? The chill seemed to have driven away a lot of the tourists and locals alike - “ Renfield began his pleasantries, even though he knew it was futile but he loathed the awkward silence that loomed around whenever the vampire was near. The Count held up a dismissive hand and snatched up the closest decanter, taking a sip before his lips turned down. “Oh yes, that was a-“

“A local politician who did not know how to take care of himself. Seriously, Renfield, this is horrible - it’s even starting to congeal!” 

“Apologies, sir, but he was the easiest specimen to acquire the knowledge of families you have been…researching in your endeavor to control the city.” The mousy little man stood and wrung his hands together nervously, he then motioned to the second decanter, “As a way to wash the filthy taste from your mouth, I found a fiery little salsa dancer and a philosopher from the university to perhaps appease your appetite a little more appropriately.”

Dracula rolled his eyes. As if he really wanted to ponder the insecurities of mortals who are so desperate to know why things are the way they are. He then shrugged, not in the mood at all to continue this conversation, and downed the decanters back to back. It had been a long day and he was rather parched. 

Surprisingly, as far as palettes go, it was not a bad mix - almost like a little charcuterie board of mixed personalities. They blended together rather well, though he would never admit to his eager…assistant. Now armed with the knowledge he had been searching for the past few months, he also had a little pep to his step along with an optimistically insightful outlook on this previously bleak evening. 

“Is it to your satisfaction, master?” Renfield tittered nervously on the outskirts of Dracula’s peripheral, close but not quite hovering. He knew better than that by now, which was worlds better than his predecessor. The Count raked a hand through his dark hair and licked his lips, a thoughtful look upon his face.

“I think tonight will be, ah, transcendent.” With a self-satisfied smirk, he threw his jacket back on and swept out of the room without another word. His oxfords hit the flagstone on Royal Street with a catchy little click-clack, the sweet sounds of a trumpet echoing through Jackson Square, and the cheerful chattering of people beginning their adventures in the French Quarter. Dracula felt invigorated, exhilarated, inspired. After waiting and planning for months, this night had finally come, and with it his way into the city’s cabal that not-so-secretly ran all of the happenings in New Orleans - including the supernatural order. Yes, it was going to be an interesting evening. 

It had been a good few decades since the incident with Zoe. He wouldn’t lie, he was rather disappointed when he ended up surviving the event, not when he was ready to kick the proverbial bucket. However, it seemed like fate decided the world wasn’t giving up the great Count Dracula just yet. So he had the first Renfield contact the Foundation to take care of her corpse and then promptly disappeared before they arrived.

When faced with eternity, one must never stay stagnant. He decided that England was a tad too dull for his tastes. There was so much more in the world to see! Conveniently, he soon found the perfect opportunity in a city across the Atlantic called New Orleans. From what he gathered, it was a French and Spanish influenced area down in the south of the United States of America. It sounded exciting, but what he found was even better than he could have imagined. 

The Big Easy was singularly the most debaucherous civilization Dracula had found thus far. Never in his life had he seen humans act so recklessly and uninhibited. It was thoroughly entertaining and he reveled in the illicit society. But there was something more to it than just the freely found recklessness. The city felt like a magnet pulling him in, the air settled around differently, smells and sights and sounds hit with a mysterious and warm glow. He was an unstoppable force and met his immovable object within the borders of this boisterous city.

There was more to it that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but Dracula shook his head as he turned into the garage. That was quite enough abstract thinking for the evening. With a content sigh, he clicked the key fob and the lights of his Rolls Royce Phantom flashed brightly back at him. Back to business. 

He cruised down the streets and away from the ever-growing crowds of the downtown. Pulling onto St. Charles Avenue, he tapped his fingers along to some jazz song playing softly on the radio. Dracula had to admit he did enjoy the music scene here; he briefly wondered if Mozart would find the incongruity maddening or endearing. No matter. Dracula enjoyed the complexity and it suited this place. 

As he drove, the buildings sank lower and lower into the Earth and started morphing into magnificent mansions hiding behind the towering oak trees. Their robust and impressive branches spread out across the road reaching out towards the others just across the street. Eventually, he turned and pulled up to the curb of a dark establishment, his sleek red car glimmered under the flickering gas lamps that illuminated the front entrance to the restaurant. 

The valet opened the door for Dracula, and he gazed seriously at the young man while handing over the keys “Keep it close, would you? I’d hate for anything to spoil this evening.”

“Yes, sir, of course, it won’t leave my sight. I promise you that, sir!” 

The Count leaned closer, glanced down at the name tag, and then back up to the nervous kid, “I shall hold you to it, Eric.”

His gulp was audible and Dracula relished the fear, the rapid thumping of a heartbeat music to his ears. The vampire flashed a pointy smile and spun towards the entrance, grasping the lapels of his suit to smooth out any wrinkles from the drive. 

The lanterns danced light across the enormous front doors. the windows had long curtains darkening the frames for privacy, and the only hint that this was an establishment and not a residence, was the sloped cursive sign hung above the double doors. It was a dark maroon color, almost black, and elegantly spelled out the name, Sanguine.

[bloodaddixt-blog]

So I’ve made a blog dedicated to my obsession over Dracula and Claes Bang, so I’m looking for more people to follow! Like or reblog if you create some content or just reblog a lot of it.

[damndrac]

ATTENTION ALL EDITORS! CAN SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE A CLAES BANG FAN CAM?? ILL PAY FOR IT I SWEAR! DM ME PLEASE 🥺❤️🧛🏻‍♂️

[kurosakyk]

Dracula and Agatha Van Hellsing

[noctisarcanae]

Dracula BBC

We’re all aware of the fact that this tv show turned out to be garbage by episode 3 but-

BUT

I’d bang Claes Bang in a millisecond how about y’all

[draculafangirl42]

So, my lab notebook it's

Looking good

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter II]

Word count:  5,675

Warnings: vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x reader

AO3 link if you prefer that format.

chapter one

“But my Lord!” I exclaimed, doing my best to hurry after Judge Llewellyn and not slip on the wet steps of the Royal Courts of Justice. 

He opened his umbrella over his bald head, absolutely ignoring any attempt of being polite and offering me some cover. So I practically ran after him and stuck myself under his umbrella with him to avoid the pouring rain.

“Miss L/N!” he complained, furrowing his white caterpillar eyebrows. His dark eyes were tiny angry slits staring back at me as he continued walking. “Now you are being indiscreet! You were late. I am sure whatever motion you have got to present can wait until the courts open again on Monday.”

“But it can’t wait, my Lord. Not only that but my team has also uncovered important information-” I spoke so fast I was surprised that every word came out clear as day.

“It can wait. Good evening to you!” he bumped his shoulder on mine as if to dismiss me but I wasn’t letting it go.

“It cannot wait, Llewellyn! If you give me a chance to file these motions this evening, the Wilkes children can return to their mother tonight!” He stopped walking abruptly and turned to scowl at me. I was going to get scolded, I knew it, but I couldn’t for the life of me shut up. “These children have suffered enough, my Lord. I am begging you. You wouldn’t let this happen to your own family.”

“You are out of line, Miss L/N!” he boomed as if we were in the courtroom. I had trained myself not to flinch anymore under duress but the glances we attracted certainly embarrassed me, especially since a few of them were from colleagues passing on the street. “You will address me as it is proper and you will not attempt to put my position in check!  Those children are being well taken care of in Children’s Services. May I remind you that we are bound by oath to follow the law? Procedure is procedure and I will abide by it until I retire, which is far from happening. Do not presume that your pretty face will make things easier for you in my court. I expect better posture from you on Monday. Are we clear?”

I could not believe my ears.

Maybe I was out of line - I could agree with that - but I expected more compassion from a man who had been working as a Judge of the Family Division of the High Court for almost as long as I have been alive. But what truly left my mouth agape was the bit about my “pretty face”. If I hadn’t already made things bad I would have had a grand time of making a case of just how misogynistic that claim was. However, I was not going to give him any more reasons to hold me in contempt. 

“Crystal, my Lord,” I bit off, trying to meet his eyes without any defiance in them.

“I heard great things about you from Pauline McGowan,” I immediately unfurrowed my brows upon hearing the name of one the strictest professors I had had on Law School. “I hope she was not wrong. Use your brain, not your looks. Enjoy your weekend,” and he was gone, leaving me in the rain. 

“I am using my brain, you fucking twat,” I whispered to myself as I hurried out of the rain, taking shelter under a bus stop close by.

Judge Llewellyn had almost made it better by mentioning McGowan but then he ruined it by mentioning my looks. To say I was angry and insulted would be an understatement. Toughen up, I told myself.

Ignoring the stares of my colleagues on the other side of the street, I whipped my phone out of my purse to order an Uber and papers came flying out, dancing in the wind, treacherously out of my reach. 

“Fucking hell!”

God, if those papers were damaged that would mean that I would have to get new official ones and take them to Count Dracula, again. And I would not do that. Seeing my distress a teenage boy decided to help me gather them and stick them back in my purse.

“Thanks! Really, thank you so much!” I said for the third time in a row. 

He kept staring at me with a silly smile on his face.

“Huhh- can I like… get your number?”

I blinked, digging my nails on the palms of my hands so I wouldn’t burst out laughing. What a fantastic end to a day. Not only had a Count made an attempt to woo me, but I was also insulted by a High Court judge and now I had a 15 year old asking for my number. Cute, yes, but what had I done to the universe to deserve this kind of attention?

“I don’t think so, love,” I managed, putting on an apologetic smile.

“Are you sure? Cus like we can-”

“She’s sure,” said a velvety voice with a hint of finality. 

I pivoted to my left to see Count Dracula standing over my shoulder with a polite grin plastered to his lips. I was drilling a hole through his skull with my eyes but he kept his stare on the boy as if I wasn’t there.

“I can take care of myself, thanks,” I said through gritted teeth. Yes, maybe he was trying to be polite but years and years of people talking over me had made me develop a reflex of shooting someone down even if they were on my side. And I knew I most definitely did not want Count Dracula on my side. He was too handsome to be good news.

“I don’t doubt that for a second, Y/N.”

“Are you following me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Finally taking the hint, the teenager shuffled to the other side of bus stop.

“Why would you think that?” he said very slowly.

“You live on the other side of London. And I’d say it is pretty unlikely we would bump into each other.”

“But not impossible. Perhaps fate is at play here, uniting us,” he bowed his head closer to mine, one hand dramatically draped on his chest.

“Charming...” I rolled my eyes. “What are you doing on Strand? There are far more beautiful sights in London.”

He made a show of looking around us as if to analyse the sights. Across from us, the gothic building that served as the Royal Courts was lit up in purple lights from below, casting shadows and highlighting every intricate detail of the structure. Our side of the street was all yellow lights and a mix of neoclassical and gothic design. 

Having lived in London all my life I barely realised just how unique and beautiful the city could be to a foreigner. Especially to someone who had lived most of his life isolated somewhere in Eastern Europe, as Renfield had mentioned to me. Strand had become part of my routine for the last years and I hardly paid attention to my surroundings during my daily commutes. Count Dracula, however, seemed to be quite fascinated by it.

“I decided to prowl the city in search of a good meal,” he said at last, taking a step closer so he was stood in front of me. From this angle I could see that he had something smudged on the side of his mouth. “Ended up there,” he indicated a corner at the end of the street with his head “and then I heard your lovely voice arguing with an old man as I finished eating.”

I surveyed him coolly. He smiled under my scrutiny, remaining very still. To be fair Strand did have fantastic restaurants and it was a tourist attraction. He could have just asked any cabbie to take him to a popular destination and ended up somewhere around here. If he was dropped off at Trafalgar Square, he could have wandered to the Courts. Finally, I decided it was not that unlikely that he had found himself all the way from Kensington to Strand.

“You have some sauce on your face,” was what came out of my mouth. I touched a finger to my lower lip to show him where. “What did you eat, bolognese pasta?”

He raised his thick eyebrows, smiling devilishly as if that was incredibly funny and pulled a handkerchief from an inside pocket of his blazer. 

“Rare steak, actually. Delicious. Thank you for warning me,” he said after wiping his mouth clean. I bobbed my head as a welcome. “What are your plans for the rest of the night? TGIF is what this generation says, right?”

Laughter escaped my lips before I could stop it. Hearing “TGIF” from a man of his prestige and age caught me completely off-guard. 

“Yes it is,” I answered, still laughing. “Until twenty minutes ago my plans consisted of going home, ordering takeout and binge watching Netflix until I passed out. But getting in argument with a judge certainly got to me. So I’m heading to Camden Town to get drunk. By myself,” I added so he would understand that I was not inviting him. Why did I even give him so many details? I questioned, suddenly struggling to break eye contact with him.

“May I give you a lift? Merely being chivalrous,” he raised his hands, showing me his palms as if to add to his “innocent” claim. 

“Do you even have a car?”

“Not yet. But Renfield has been kind enough to lend me his in the meanwhile. It’s parked not far away from here,” he explained. Moving closer to me he placed a hand on the small of my back, “Please, it’s dark and while you are perfectly able to take care of yourself I would rest easier if I was the one to drive you to this town.”

“It’s not a town,” I replied. “It’s a district.” 

“Is that a yes?” he pulled his eyebrows together. 

He was an attractive man, I would give him that. Sexy, even. But from my experience that didn’t always equal nice things. However, my brain was starting to disconnect from my body and when his eyebrows did that I felt butterflies doing cartwheels on my stomach. Those traitors. 

Use your brain. Hm, maybe Llewellyn could act as my conscience if all else failed. 

I felt something poke me on the back of my ribs and I dodged Dracula’s hand to turn and look. An old lady sitting on the bus stop’s bench gazed at me attentively, milky blue eyes shifting between the Count and I. Her hair was white as snow but her face was hardly wrinkled, withstanding the test of age. 

“Go,” she whispered, winking at me. “He’s a good one. They don’t make men like this anymore. Trust me.”

My body immediately relaxed as I chuckled. Leaning closer to her, I winked back.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said in the same amused fashion.

She grinned for a second then her expression closed itself again, as if Count Dracula hadn’t witnessed the entire exchange. She shooed me away with her hand and a gleeful glint in her old eyes. 

Turning to Dracula, I caught the triumphant expression on his face. If he thought he had won this round then he was seriously mistaken.

“I’ll let you be chivalrous and accompany me there. But don’t think this is an opportunity to make another pass at me. I haven’t got more insolence to spend today”, I took control of my lips before I could smile at using the same word he had accused me of earlier “and I’m trying to be friendly. So, behave.”

A grin slowly emerged on his face, exhibiting white teeth and pouring all his charm into it. His fine lines only appeared when he smiled or frowned which made me question his true age. It made him all the more alluring.

“For now,” he responded, placing a hefty hand on the small of my back again. 

_____________________________________________________________

Most of the drive to Camden was surprisingly quiet. I was the only one speaking from time to time to give him directions. But then when he finally made a curve that brought us right into the heart of Camden, an awed sound escaped him. 

The neon lights from store signs tinted the inside of the car in red and green. The cloudy night sky had gained a wonderful violet tonality that said that more rain would come but that didn’t stop the Camden streets to be overcrowded. Looking out the window, I could see people getting tattooed inside the nearest tattoo parlour. Vintage shops, pubs, restaurants and the food market all of them busy with boisterous noise from people and music. 

It was a stark contrast to London’s weather. 

“I love it here,” I told Dracula. 

“I… love it, too,” he almost whispered, gawking at two girls with pink hair passing on the street. “Uncanny.”

“That’s a good way to describe it. Hey, there’s a good parking spot,” I pointed ahead to an alley that ran between a salon and an adult store. 

He gaped at the adult store window display, showcasing a mannequin clad in latex, a cape and fangs drawn on over its lips. Handcuffs held the mannequin’s hands together while another mannequin was positioned as if to show them whipping the other one. 

Count Dracula laughed suddenly and I joined him when he couldn’t seem to stop. 

“It’s a trend at the moment in this side of the world,” I explained between laughs. 

The car behind us honked and the Count finally made the turn to the alley, parking behind a row of motorbikes.

“Vampires are a trend?” he asked, killing the car’s engine.

“They haven’t been out of fashion since the 90s, especially. But I was talking about the BDSM thing,” I grabbed my briefcase and purse and opened my door. 

Count Dracula was standing there a mere second later, holding the door open for me and offering a hand. Frowning, I did a double take between him and the driver’s seat. How had he moved so quickly? I shrugged it off, thinking that he must have gotten out of the car while I was distracted getting my things.

Accepting his hand, I let him support me while I got out of the car. We were awfully close to each other, I realised with a start. I had to look up from his chest to meet his eyes, which glowed red under the neon lights. 

“What’s that?” he muttered. It was pure luck that the alley was deserted, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to hear him over Camden’s noise.

The alley was empty. And I was alone in the dark with a man whom I didn’t know very well. My heart hurt as if a hand had squeezed it. Shit. I could feel the tips of my fingers going numb and my legs getting cold from fear. 

When had I stopped using my brain and ended up here?

As if sensing my fear, his nostrils flared for a moment and then he stepped back, giving me enough space so I could breathe. 

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, I was being-”

“Polite, I know,” I finished before he could.

Yellow light from a lamppost shone on him when he stepped back and I stared at his face. He was either truly sorry or very good at faking it. We looked at each other for what seemed a long time before I started to relax. 

I wasn’t particularly scared of him, I decided after analysing the situation for a second. Being a woman I had been brought up with an instilled and sensible fear of men in general, as it is with most women - unfortunately. 

Count Dracula opened his mouth to say something but I was faster.

“It’s fine,” I said reassuringly, to him or myself I wasn’t sure. “Your chivalry doesn’t seem to fit with how on edge I am as a person. Why don’t we tone it down for a minute?” Willing my heart to slow down by taking deep breaths, I sauntered past him towards the shiny and inviting colours of Camden’s markets. I turned around, seeing Dracula with his hands stuffed inside his pockets and a puzzled look on his face. “Are you coming?”

“You want me to come with you?” 

“You obviously like Camden. I’m not leaving you around someplace you don’t know, looking like that. You’ll just attract trouble,” I gestured with my head so he would follow me. 

Turning the tables for a second made me feel slightly better. He was a tall man and he had this vaguely menacing air about him that made me doubt that he attracted more trouble than the occasional horny person with working eyes. There was no denying he was nice to look at. He just would not attract the same kind of trouble as I would, that was a fact.

“Looking like what, exactly?” he asked when he caught up with me. 

“I don’t need to tell you how you look like. You have looked at yourself in the mirror, I trust,” I shot back with a smirk. 

“I try to avoid them, actually. I would much prefer if you gave me your thoughts on how I look like.”

Chuckling, I tugged the sleeve of his blazer so he wouldn’t go past the entrance of my favourite pub. The light banter was a good way to relieve my previous anxiety.

“I’m not feeding your ego anymore than that,” I turned to flash him an amused smile as I pushed the door open. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk,” he made, knitting his brows and making an excellent job at feigning indignation. 

An involuntary image popped into my head of him making that sound at me while holding the handcuffs from the adult store. I swiveled my face away so he wouldn’t catch the desire that had undoubtedly appeared on my eyes.

Use your brain, use your brain, use brain.

We made our way to the counter dodging the seas of people laughing drunkenly. It took us a few seconds but we managed to wiggle our way up to the nearest barmaid. I waved my hand to get her attention and she signaled back that she’d seen me. 

While we waited, the music changed to Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode and I absently started mouthing the words and moving to the beat of the song. I felt more than saw Dracula shifting closer to me and I stopped dancing, fully turning my body so we were facing each other and putting my hips well away from his grasp so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. 

Dark eyes met mine, a fire burning in them that could have made my cheeks blush a few years ago. I put on my best deadpan expression so he would give up but it was fruitless. 

Shifting closer still, he said “You didn’t answer my question before.”

“Which one?”

“What’s BDSM?” he asked precisely when the barmaid came to take our orders.

The barmaid’s mouth fell open for a second but she quickly recovered from it and sniggered.

“Okay…” she drew out. “What can I get you?”

“Rum and coke,” I looked at Count Dracula, looking curiously between me and the woman. “What will you have?”

“Nothing, thanks,” he nodded his head at the barmaid to dismiss her and she left. Seeing my furrowed brows, he added. “I don’t drink… alcohol.”

“I’m sure they serve non-alcoholic drinks here,” I raised my hand to get the attention of the barmaid again. 

“No need.”

A large hand closed around my wrist and politely pushed it down but did not let go. Instead, he used it to bring me closer. My eyes flickered from his and to his hand as a silent request to let me go. He loosened his grip but kept his hand on me. I pulled back to create distance between us. 

“BDSM stands for bondage, discipline, sadism and masochism… I think. I’m not entirely knowledgeable on the subject. Mostly it’s related to sex but that’s not exclusively the norm.” My response broke his attention on me for a second while he considered it.

“Oh!” He joined his hands and chuckled.  “So there is a name for it now. How delightful.”

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish trying to find my words. I couldn’t take my eyes off of his, that’s how dumbfounded I was by the implications of his answer. Slowly, he let his gaze travel over me when he stopped laughing and a chill went down my spine. He was undressing me with his gaze, I knew it and I stood there allowing myself to feel desired for a second before taking control back.

I was still trying to work out how exactly I was going to regain control when the barmaid saved me by returning with my drink. Finally, I rescued my arm from the Count’s grip and took hold of my glass. I downed half of it in two gulps.

“You promised me you’d behave,” I declared. God, it was a challenge to maintain eye contact with him but I was not losing this battle. 

“I didn’t promise you anything, my dear,” his eyes shone mischievously. 

Fuck, he really hadn’t. But if he wanted to play a power game, I could do it. 

“I have no interest in you,” liar, my body screamed at me. “So let’s keep it friendly or I’ll leave.”

Dracula inhaled deeply, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He straightened for a second on his barstool but then relaxed again, placing an elbow on the counter. The staring contest between us was put on pause and he met my eyes with curiosity instead of heat. 

“The judge,” he said simply. “You are clearly someone who does not accept being undermined, so why let him talk to you like that?”

I stared at him. A single black eyebrow jumped up, waiting. 

“You’d make a fine lawyer”, I conceded with a small smile.

“Why’s that?”

“You asked me a question that’s perfect to incriminate a defendant. Why would I surrender to him but not you?” I swallowed down the last of my drink, keeping my eyes on him and he grinned from ear to ear. “By following that logic, once I surrendered to Judge Llewellyn it is plausible that I surrender to you as well, is it not?”

“Now you’re putting words in my mouth,” he rubbed his chin, a full grin still stamped on his mouth. 

“Mm-hm,” I grinned back. “I don’t have the option to be rude to a judge while working. I was out of line and he was right to call me out on that. As much as I don’t like being treated a certain way for being a woman and looking the way I do, withstanding that treatment is just something I’ve got to deal with on a daily basis.”

“Ah, I see,” his grin faltered for a second and then slowly faded. “And if things were different?”

“Oh, I would whip Llewellyn into submission until he granted me respect,” I shot back, laughing at my own joke. “But I’m not power hungry like that. I like having just enough to have some control.”

“Seems we are drifting back into BDSM territory.”

My laughter came easily again. The rum was obviously starting to affect me already.

“This conversation is taking a weird turn. Let’s go back to basics,” I suggested while showing my empty glass to the nearest bartender. He nodded back to indicate he’d bring me another one. “You sound quite English. I suppose you had a good teacher all the way in...  Hungary?” I guessed. 

“Romania,” he corrected, rolling his R and accentuating the last syllable. It was the first hint of his actual accent I had heard coming from his lips. “Indeed. Coincidentally, this teacher of mine was a lawyer like you.”

And with that, the conversation moved forward much smoother. Of course with the occasional banter that seemed to be a requirement whenever we opened our mouths. Still, it flowed nicely, the back and forth of questions we had for one another. By the end of the night, I had acquired a sense of trust in him simply because I knew more about him. 

He explained that his actual title was Voivode, which was closer to Prince than Count but he preferred the latter because he considered that “Wallachia’s principality was an obsolete system constantly defied by usurpers”. I noticed that he constantly referred to Wallachia, the region where he was born, rather than using the name Romania. 

He stated nonchalantly that he was a widower to many brides, which struck me as odd at first but everyone dealt with grief differently. More than once I saw him picking his words as to not give away too much but I didn’t judge him on that for I did the same. He only slipped once upon mentioning a friend by the name of Agatha of whom he had been very fond of but had drowned during a boat trip. When talking of her, I was fascinated by the wistfulness in his voice and the delighted smile that took control of his mouth. Perhaps the rum had played its part but I found it heartwarming to hear him speak so highly of someone who had clearly meant a lot to him.

The more we spoke, I realised he had much more depth than he let on. Sure, he was a cocky bastard but one that wanted more from the world than what his title could provide. Curiosity drove him. He wanted to “drink up” the knowledge from this era which he had been deprived of for so long. 

When he’d had enough of talking about himself he started prodding me with various questions, most of which I had laughed off because they were too complex for my brain on alcohol. Some of them were standard questions people made when getting to know one another, as why did I choose to go to Law School, did I have brothers and sisters, had I been abroad. But they got progressively deeper such as would I live forever if I could, would I kill anyone if there were no consequences, did I believe in magic. 

“Are you scared of dying?” he asked me at last. 

Too distracted eating chips and downing yet another glass of rum and coke, he placed his hand over mine when I didn’t answer right away.

“Are you?” the intensity on his voice made me blink.

I tried to focus and ground myself in reality. Fixing my stare on him, I let the darkness in his eyes engulf me and drown the sounds around us. For a second he was the only person in the room. My heartbeat raced. I was unsure if it was my body trying to sober me up or just him.

“This is an important question for you,” I stated. 

“Yes. And I would very much like to hear your answer.”

I licked my lips and shut my eyes in thought. It broke the bubble of darkness that had settled about us and the noise came crashing back, flooding my senses with music, laughter and excited voices. 

His hand was still over mine and I moved my own so I could interlace my fingers on his as an attempt to focus. 

“It doesn’t matter,” I mumbled, still staring at the pitch black of my eyelids.

“What?”

“Death doesn’t matter. It just happens to people. Were there times I contemplated it? Yes. But it does not matter because I am alive and will eventually die as does everyone on this planet.”

His fingers tightened around mine and I opened my eyes to watch his reaction but there was nothing there. His face was empty, likening one of a statue.

“I think I’ve drank a little too much. Alcohol has a way of making me more insightful than normal,” mumbling and suddenly feeling like I had done something wrong, I withdrew my hand. It was as cold as his. “Will you take me home?”

___________________________________________________________

“You can stop here,” I told Count Dracula and he diminished the car’s speed until we came to a halt. 

“They all look the same,” said he, admiring the terraced houses that continued down the street. I could see the Clapham Common’s lights very dimly ahead of us.

“That one’s mine,” I pointed to the closest. It was the only one that had bushes of red and white roses decorating the small garden in front of it. Hugging my belongings, I gave him a small smile. “Thank you. You behaved quite nicely.” I patted his shoulder. 

“One of us had to do it,” he smiled back.

I scoffed.

“I was going to say I behaved like a perfect lady but I’m not a lady,” I grabbed the door handle and pushed it open in the same movement, which resulted in my purse and briefcase spilling out of my lap and falling to the street. “Ah, shit!”

Not a moment later, Dracula was out of the car and had taken my things under one of his arms. 

“I should show you to your door,” he said, offering me his free arm. “Wouldn’t want you tripping.”

I laced my arm with his and kicked off my heels, not minding that my stockings were the only thing between my feet and the freezing asphalt. I leaned down and picked up my shoes with one hand.

“Less likely to trip now but I’m still not fully sober, so I’ll accept the offer, oh good sir,” I giggled at my own joke.

The automatic light over my door came on when we stepped past the short iron gate that guarded my garden from the street. I wiggled free of Dracula’s arm and turned to him.

“I need my purse,” I informed. “To get my key,” I added when he didn’t seem to register what I had said. 

He swallowed and grimaced as if that took great effort. Staring down at the ground, he gave me my things. I frowned, thinking if my joke had been in poor taste while I dug for keys inside my purse. A small sound of joy came out of me when I found them much faster than I usually did. 

I was trying to fit them in the keyhole when a low groan reached my ears. I spinned to see Dracula standing way closer to me than he had a moment before. His head was thrown back, face turned upward and with parted lips, as if he was praying. He groaned again, harshly this time. 

“Are you alright?” I asked, already fishing for my cell phone inside my purse in case I needed to call an ambulance.

A step closer and then his hands were holding my forearms. I dropped my stuff to ground with the sheer force in which he grabbed me. He pushed my back against the door, standing so much taller than me that he completely obscured the light above us. 

“A taste. Just… a taste,” he spoke as if he was struggling to get the words out.

Barely breathing, I tried looking up into his face but he smashed his lips to mine before I could catch his eyes. My eyebrows shot up and I moaned in protest, struggling to push him away with my hands but he still had me well within his grasp. He stopped abruptly, leaning his forehead on mine. My nose was glued to his and I could feel my breath ricochet on his face. 

“Count- no. I don’t think we should,” I all but whispered because it was all the strength I had in me. Appealing to reason, good, I told my brain. 

And then his lips were on my cheeks, veering closer to my mouth for a second and then back to my cheeks, making a trail all the way to my earlobe and throwing all reason out the window.

“Please, please,” he whispered back, almost pleadingly. A kiss on my jawline made me shudder. A slow lick to the same place he had just kissed rid my body of all the stiffness it had built up. “Let me, my dear, let me…”

He retraced the path he had created and found my lips again. I exhaled, relenting to his touch. This time, my tongue greeted his and he groaned in response. His hands released my arms and circled my body, greedily seizing my hips and squeezing. My fingers found their way inside his shirt and I allowed my nails to lightly scrape the skin on the nape of his neck. He sucked my bottom lip to the point where it hurt but it only served to intensify the waves of pleasure flowing through my body. 

A cry of protest left my mouth when he stopped the kiss. But then he followed that glorious path to the skin on my jaw and I shut up. One of his hands snaked up, finding my shirt’s collar and pushing it down. I pressed my body closer to his, striving to feel more of him, and in response his fingers digged down on my ass harshly. 

Finally, his lips touched my neck and I tilted my head to grant him better access. Teeth lightly chafed the sensitive skin between sloppy and wet kisses until I was out of breath. Sharp pain followed for a second and I stiffened into his arms only to relax again when he held me tightly. A distinct mix of pleasure and pain flooded my body in a way I had never felt before and a moan tore out of me. 

I’m going to have the biggest hickey ever tomorrow, was my last coherent thought. 

[kispexi2]

Dracula BBC

I do believe I smell a second season in the offing.

[crazytxgradstudent]

Haha...I had to 🖤🧛‍♂️🖤

[mr-kisskiss-bangbang]

Cannot get over how gorgeous he looks. The wolf scene is the best I have seen in a f-cking long time. So feral.