request: Please can you do 57 with dark!ransom x dark!reader
summary: a scene from your first feeding as a vampire.
warnings: 18+ only. dark!. vampire!Ransom x vampire!Reader. blood play. death.
word count: 413
author’s note: this got away from me. potential for this to become a series??? don’t hold me too it but this ignited something in me. 💙
“Umbra” translates to “shadow or darkness”.
☽ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ☾
Warm crimson drips onto the lacquered floor and pools at the base of your victims' twitching feet. Their shoes slide in the tinny liquid; painting a morose work of art.
The helpless body grows colder with every passing second and yet, yours has never felt so alive.
“Careful now,” Ransom’s voice cuts through the thick, hunger filled haze, “You don’t want to get too full before the moon has risen.”
Your eyes press shut as you disregard his orders and continue to drink down your first meal. Every nerve of your lifeless body pulses although you knew it was only an illusion.
As your teeth dig further into the flesh, you feel the last soft thumps of the heart beat and suck even harder wanting to know what it feels like to taste the final moments of life.
A roaring, raging shout bounces off the walls, “I said Enough!” A strong hand grabs you by the back of the neck and drags you from the now soulless corpse.
Ransom brushes a hand through his fall quaff, taking a moment to regain his composure. He knows what the first feed feels like. That unshakable urge to drink until sunrise. To quench that thirst only a rare few can.
He looks you over with a smirk before crouching down and he runs a finger through the fresh kill that stains your chin. “What am I going to do with you?”
He tongues at the tempered essence and grimaces. It tastes better when it’s warm and pouring from a vein.
“Clean yourself up, my little Umbra.” Ransom commands, offering the pocket square from his suit coat. “You’ve got to look presentable if you want to play with your prey.”
You wipe the crusty, dried blood from your chin before brushing the fallen red flakes from your dress like snow. You timidly meet his gaze. You didn’t want to upset him anymore tonight.
“I’ll be good, Sir.”
“I know.” He says, confidently before motioning towards the door. “Shall we?”
You bid him a smile before stepping out into the night for the first time. You stall for a moment in the doorway and soak up the darkness that you now call home. For once in your life you feel strong, omnipotent.
He watches you sway down the steps, your pristine dress and sweet features ready to lure and obliterate.
“The night is young and we’re immortal.” Ransom muses to himself. “The world is not ready for us.”
Guys I have what feels like approximately 724 half-assed, partially written fics and I can't finish anything. 😤
In lieu of finished anything, have a snippet of Vampire!Ransom I've been working on. He's such an asshole and a whiny baby and I love tormenting him.
Preview under the cut:
“Thought car phones went out in the 80s? Don’t you have a cell phone?”
“Just shut up about the car phone. Leave the car phone for now,” Ransom leans closer. “That is the least exciting thing inside this car. The most exciting thing in this car besides me, is you. And I excite you sweetheart, I can tell.”
You try to temper your body’s reactions to this handsome man and his marble-statue beautiful face being so close, studying you intently, hungrily. You huff in reply, “Cocky. What makes you think that?”
He kisses his teeth and tuts. “Your heart rabbiting away under your sweet tits, your strong little pulse coursing up your pretty throat.” His index finger points to your heart and traces in the air the path up your throat, until he tilts your eyes up to meet his by catching your chin with the finger. “I can feel the way your face heats. The way your breath...hitches.”
Your body reacts just like Ransom says. You bite your lip while he holds your gaze. Your pulse throbs and you’re certain Ransom feels it in his long fingers. His very cold, long fingers.
“Think you need gloves. Your hands are freez-"
Ransom pulls his hand away, but he's still leaning over you. "Do you want to come inside for a nightcap or not?"
You gulp, but look him dead in the eye as you breathe out, "Yes."
Ransom's smile curls with something almost sour underneath it. "Good girl. Let's go."
---
The spell breaks during the walk from Ransom's car. You're not sure what prompted this line of conversation, but as he lets you through the front door of the impressively sleek glass-fronted mansion, Ransom isn't tickling your ear with all the ways he's going to ruin you. He's lecturing you as to why everything in society is going down the tubes.
“... Kids these days, you’re all so clean. Even you, only 2 beers all night. You’re practically sober.” He sounds disgusted.
“Like that’s a bad thing? Are you so bad at pick-up lines you can’t consensually bring a girl back to yours? Does that mean I’m the first one?”
Ransom’s so fun to exasperate. He looks incredibly sexy when he huffs in annoyance, it puffs his broad chest out so nicely. And when his hands go to his hips, your mind's eye easily slots your legs around his trim waist, your ass into his hands.
He narrows his eyes and goes to retort but you interrupt at the sight of a treasure across the room. “Oh my god--is that a beta max player?!” You scurry across the den to the bank of high-fi systems, touching the player reverently like the museum piece it is.
“Yes.”
“These are so cool. It's absolutely mint, you're so lucky to find it. Was it eBay? You’re a real throwback, aren’t you?” you tell Ransom, glancing back at him admiringly. He seems suspicious of the compliment. You turn back to gawk at the other a/v equipment.
“You could say that.” His voice pops up from right beside you, and you gasp. He's next to you much faster than you thought one could cross a living room that large.
"I'm also impatient."
His closeness unnerves you, so you cover with a joke. "I'll say. You haven't even offered me a drink yet."
"Hoping you'll offer me one." Ransom takes another step towards you, bracketing you against the shelves.
