Let’s be honest I am around booktok too much, but mmmmhm vampires, amirite?
Fandom: Original Content
Pairings: Yandere!Vampire x GN!Reader
Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Innuendos, Violence (Biting Mention, Death Mention off-screen, Whipping Mention, Blood Mention), Slavery in terms of vampires being superior over humans, Mention of selling blood for services, “Blood Virgins/Blood Mates”, Reader gets brought up under cult-like circumstances, Reader is supposed to get auctioned off
Prompt: @sintember
Taboo - Polite, civilised people don’t do these sorts of things. But some choose not to care.
»»———————— ♡ ————————««
The sound of laughter and glasses clinking together reached you.
A bustle of noise, hushed voices, and polite questions echoed through the room. You were all the more receptive to it, with your eyes blindfolded and your senses sharpening. The air was heavy with cigar smoke and flowery perfumes, and despite not being able to see, you felt a strong light shine down on you as you kneeled on the floor, two burly men standing next to you and keeping you sitting upright.
Even though you knew what was going to happen, you gulped, feeling nervous.
You had waited for this day for the better part of your—still young—life. Your coming of age had been ritualized and celebrated, and you were washed, clothed, and prepared for the occasion. Many nights you had wished the day would never come. The other girls and boys you grew up with and lived with until your early adulthood, liked to tell horror stories about your future as much as they liked to romanticize all of it.
"Ladies and gentlemen, revered guests!" The booming voice coming close to you made you flinch, tearing you out of your memories. You had been waiting for this moment all your life, but it still surprised you, perhaps a given without being able to see. The voices around you slowly died down, a few last laughs being exchanged before the room got quiet, and you heard your heartbeat quicken, resulting in a constant thrumming in your head.
"We've come together today to decide the fate of our lovely blood virgin!"
Fingers brushed beneath your jaw, urging you to let your head fall back and show your neck. The touch of who you assumed must have been the auctioneer was almost reverently gentle, which made sense for ware as precious as you were. Truth be told, you never thought of yourself as especially pretty or incredibly clever. Still, the delightful moans going through the crowd as you presented your perfectly unscathed neck went straight to your ego, tingling your core and sending heat to your head which seemed to rouse the people's passion even more.
People might have been a stretch. In a world ruled by vampires, someone like you—a blood virgin, unbitten and kept locked away until you were ripe to be sold—was a delicacy. Usually, every remaining human had a bite or a dozen on them, selling their blood for loans and protection. Even your instructors had them, and you weren't shielded from the ugly truths about how much biting hurt and how humans were barely better than cattle to vampires. That was, frankly said, what scared you.
Someone like you, who was prepared from childhood to be property, had no rights and no means of saving yourself from what was to come. Sure, the other blood virgins liked to dream about being taken in as personal blood slaves to some wealthy, handsome vampires that would spoil them and treat them as well as a human could be expected to be treated. But you didn't believe in that. You only believed in the screams you heard as you walked to the room your big sister had been brought to after her auction. No one had stood guard, and you fearfully took a glimpse through the keyhole. Only to hear gurgles and see… blood. So much blood.
Your sister never came back.
Even when they tried to tell you she was merely taken to the vampire that bought her, you didn't believe it after what you saw. And you didn't believe there was any hope for you either. When the touch of the auctioneer slipped beneath the velvety blindfold, you wished you could have kept it on. You didn't want to see the faces of murderers enjoying their lives. You didn't want to see the vampire that would take you from your home. You had been trained for this occasion your whole life, but in the end, you weren't ready.
No matter how well they had whipped good behavior into your body, you couldn't do it. When the blindfold lifted from your face, appreciative murmurs going through the mass below the stage, your world seemed to slow down. For a few seconds, your anxiety made everything come to a halt as you breathed heavily. The spotlight shining down on you hurt your eyes, and you couldn't see anything really, in the darkness below the stage you were on. But in a moment of fear-induced clarity, you knew this was your only chance. The only moment they didn't expect you to act.
Before you could think it through, you bolted.
Slipped right out of the guards' grip and pushed aside the gentle auctioneer, not even having seen that man's face if he even was one. Your feet lost their footing as you couldn't see where the stage ended, dropping you off the edge into soft but smelly carpet floor. Your body was pounding blood through it, making it thrum in your ears and filling you with adrenaline. The sound of the crowd gasping in surprise barely reached you as your mind was filled with the symphony of your body and the desire to escape.
You got up before anyone could reach you in time, just running forward despite not seeing anything in the darkness yet. Vaguely, the humanoid shapes of the guests darted by you as you hoped to reach the end of the room to escape it. You'd not end up like your sister. That was your only thought as you hurled your body into a door, fumbling to find a door handle to push it open.
This wasn't normal. You shouldn't have to accept your fate as cattle for vampires, a blood bank for just one night. Even if all your life led up to this moment, no one should have the right to treat you as less than worthy of living. It was insane to just sit and wait for someone to buy you so they could drink your blood and kill you when they had no use for you anymore. You never even kissed someone, much less experienced the world outside of the walls of the monastery where you were kept!
Finally, you managed to push the door open, slipping out the smallest gap you managed to pry open while you felt dozens of hands reach for you from behind. Hungry, greedy hands wanting to pull you back and devour you with hair and skin. They didn't care if you got hurt or even if you were still alive when they got to you, but now that you broke the most important rule—absolute obedience—you were free game. Monsters. All of them!
But you did it! You escaped them! And as you threw the door back in its lock behind you, a smile of relief painted your lips, knowing you made it. Your body's ache returned as you blindly ran into solid matter, forcing you to stumble back against the door as the way forward was blocked off. Not even your hands could have saved you from the wall right where you slipped out, and your senses slowly returned, the adrenaline running dangerously low now that you felt accomplished. Behind you, growly, angry vampires crashed into the wood, shaking the door and slamming their fists into it, no one managing to actually open the exit in their frenzy. All while you stayed still as a mouse, listening to their curses and then a tongue clicking right before you.
"Well-behaved and trained blood slaves don't act this way, you know? Running and creating a fuss. For what? You think you can outrun them?"
You flinched as someone crashed into the wood at your back, the man talking to you taking a step forward, caging you between him and the door, keeping the exit barred with his strength. No, once again, this was no man. With a soothing, deep voice and an expensive scent coming from him, he couldn't be human. Hesitantly, you allowed yourself to look up from beneath your lashes, the spare lightning in the hallway barely enough to illuminate all of his body. Expensive metal accessories decorated him, throwing back the light at you, but the rest was coated in darkness with only the red of his eyes shining through.
It might have been naive to think you could escape, but at least, you had nothing to lose now.
"Civilized and decent beings wouldn't auction off blood virgins into their death."
"Oh?" he hummed, amused by you speaking back. Even if your voice was barely more than a whisper and a shaky one at that, your words seemed to have reached him. Inwardly, however, you cringed. Talking back to a vampire was a big no-no, and this taboo had been burned into your very soul. Even though... you had to admit it felt kind of good to finally speak your mind. You felt his hand fall to your hair, letting the strands you had been forced to grow out, glide through his fingers, his touch running cold shudders down your spine. Without being able to see him properly and predict his movements, everything felt so much worse again, like you were back on the stage, blindfolded and devoted to your duty.
"But we don't kill our blood virgins, you know?" he tried to explain, but it only made you angrier. Of course, he'd say that.
"Liar!" you barked, surprising yourself at how strong the word left you. But you meant it, and seeing him recoil in surprise for a split second felt like a victory. If you could at least shock one of them before your inevitable death, you already achieved more than most blood virgins.
"I am not a liar," he hissed, leaning forward and pressing his body into yours. "I can't speak for everyone, but a blood virgin is a commitment forever. Once we drink the blood of one, it's the only blood we'll want, and they become our blood mates for the rest of their lives. Do you understand?"
Your mind was fighting against you to believe him, but somehow, his words sounded more genuine than you expected them to be. He spoke them with pride and conviction. Clearly, he could be lying, his honeyed voice trying to soothe you for the bite, but why would he say these things then?
"It's an obsession, pure delightful need that we want to constantly satisfy. You humans would call it… love? We want our blood mates to always be around us, and no one is allowed to touch or taste them except us. Much less kill them, little human."
"I…" you mumbled, trying to process the information you were given. But all of this didn't change your mind about the whole thing. "I don't want that… I would rather die than be someone's property like this."
"We'll see about that," he huffed, his hand gripping your arm as he pulled you back into his chest, finally allowing the door to open, bodies falling out of it that you assumed were the staff members. They groaned and slowly got up, but their sounds fell silent just as quickly, and a voice you recognized as the auctioneer perked up, hesitantly addressing the man that pressed you against his body.
"S-Sir! What a pleasure to see you! We had a small hiccup, but the auction will resume any second now!"
"No need," he waved him off, and you felt his cold hand grip the clothes you were wearing, giving off a possessive vibe. "I will take this one for myself. The auction is off; you can send everyone home."
"B-But, Boss…" the auctioneer stammered, and your eyes widened, body tensing as goosebumps erupted all over your skin hearing the auctioneer call this man his boss. Without much regard for the poor auctioneer left to handle all the angry guests grumbling behind him, you were dragged away by the auction boss, the one in charge of raising and selling the blood virgins. The most evil one of them all.
And as you stared into his face, occasionally lit by the lights in the hallway and too handsome for such a creature, no signs of aging or care about anything other than his selfish desires, his eyes found yours, a grin curling on his lips.
"We'll see if you'll still refuse to be mine when I give you pleasure beyond what you'll ever know. One you'll never get from anyone but me, Darling."
Here are the prompts for Sintember 2022! If the image is unreadable, I deeply apologize. Luckily, all of the prompts are listed (with little blurbs!) under the cut. All of the Free Day Friday prompts are designed to be much vaguer than the other prompts.
Obsession - Love? Hate? Lust? Fear? Worship? Whatever the case, it’s all they can think about.
Free Day Friday: Phobia - Pick your favourite (or perhaps even least favourite) fear and go wild with it.
Coercion - Subtle application of threat, the brute force of physicality, or could it be someone’s will itself working into their brain?
Intoxication - Drugs, alcohol, hormones running rampant and space sex pollen, the senses are not quite lost, but the will to struggle is gone.
“Well, the usual methods didn’t work, so...” - An escalation. What do those above want from the one below, and what will they do to get it?
Life must go on - If there is one thing to be said about life, it is that it comes at the expense of others’.
Power imbalance - So many ways for one to have advantages over the other.
The tables have turned - And so many ways for those advantages to slip from their grasp. Is it revenge or fear that motivates what comes next, or was it an act all along?
Free Day Friday: Blorbo - Is there a character (or more than one) you just need to do something to? Now’s the time to do it. This can be a character from anywhere, including your own head!
Eldritch Horrors - Twisting minds, twisting depths, slithery limbs that shift and grasp and pull you deeper into the madness.
Transformation - Becoming comes with pain, with loss. What skin do you shed, and what steps into new moonlight?
Captivity - How long has it been? Does the sound of your captor getting closer bring fear or hope. Has it been long enough to become joy?
Possession - To belong to someone, to have them wash over you, erasing you, becoming you. Did you ask for this? Does it matter?
Taboo - Polite, civilised people don’t do these sorts of things. But some choose not to care.
“You didn’t think I was going to touch you, did you...?” - Is that contempt you hear, pity? Or the threat of something else out of sight? Don’t they know how cruel it is to play with your emotions?
Free Day Friday: Philia - Got a kink or a paraphilia? Is there never enough content for it? You know what to do.
Lost and ‘Alone’ - You could die out here if you can’t find humans soon. Maybe that would be better.
Heaven and Hell - The rapture of being utterly known, utterly loved. The exquisite torture of the very same.
It was an accident! - You swear you didn’t mean to do it. Some might even believe you.
“That’ll teach you where to put your fucking fingers” - Consequences, a touch unwanted, a thief, a rebellion. Teach them better.
No one will believe you - There’s no one to help, no one to trust, do you even believe yourself?
Make a mess - There won’t be anything left pretty after this.
Free Day Friday: Creature - Monsters, beasts, cryptids galore. We can’t let those humans think they run the show.
Overwhelmed - There’s too much, too much. You can’t scream, you can’t think. you can’t breathe. When will it be over?
You got yourself into this mess - It is your fault, but did you deserve this? Could anyone?
Death - A simple thing, in the end.
Disgust - Things that slither and ooze, the constant decay of the earth beneath your feet. The things that make us sick, so we turn our heads and do our best to forget.
Why did nobody listen? - A threat ignored, the devastation wrought. Will you survive it alone, to remember their folly? Or will it consume you as well?
Healing, or so they say - Why did it hurt to be fixed. Did they make you perfect just to ruin you again?
Free Day Friday: True Freedom - Write anything you want! Anything.
Summary: Someone new arrives at St. Mathilde's just as things calm down after the enigmatic Fiamma's departure. (AU where Fiamma returns to Spain before Miss G can take things too far.)
Word Count: 1,130
Warnings: Obsession, hints of future minor/adult relationship
A/N: Miss G will be referred to as Camille, as she was never addressed by a first name in the film.
Following Fiamma, Camille did not think she’d ever feel desire again. No one and nothing could ignite her passion as the strangely exotic girl once had. It broke something within her when Fiamma left. She’d never even gotten close to the girl, though no matter if she had, nothing would have been close enough for Camille's liking.
She performed her duties as she must, but lacking any of her usual luster and flair. She taught her girls their lessons and supervised her once treasured diving team, but her day to day always felt hollowed out; empty. She was positively devoid of feeling, and some days she wished only to scream. At least the rawness of her throat afterwards would be a feeling of some sort. Yet she resisted the urge.
It was torturous for Camille to not have something, or rather someone, to focus her thoughts. Someone to impress, charm, woo, that’s what she needed. She could regale the girls with tale after tale, both real and made up, but she never wanted attention from the masses. No, Camille wants singular devotion, one person to be sucked in by her as she is by her desire for them. And that was what was missing.
One morning, after suffering a particularly dull and dreary week prior, Camille woke up to a shift in the air. She wasn’t renewed with hope, but more of a cautious optimism. And it turns out she had a right to be optimistic. A new arrival was to brighten her day exponentially. It was at mealtime when she first crossed paths with the newest student at St. Mathilde's.
Aerla Grae came from Ireland. A recent incident that was not entirely divulged to Camille, had resulted in fifteen-year-old Aerla's transfer to the school. Camille was advised to keep a close eye on her. Following her colleague's gaze, Camille's own eyes first landed on Aerla, and she decided in that moment alone, that keeping watch of her was not going to be a problem.
Aerla sat alone at the end of one of the tables, keeping her distance from the other girls. Camille watched as she tucked her mass of red curls behind her ear in order to eat. Camille drew a deep, silent breath as she became transfixed by Aerla's every small movement.
It was apparent to her that she was nothing like Fiamma, not in looks, nor, Camille suspected, in personality, as Fiamma had been such a social creature, where it appeared Aerla had a much more individual nature. Aerla had also arrived here from another country, but that's where her similarity to Fiamma ended. Yet, all the same, Camille was utterly enchanted.
Spotting an open seat across the table from Aerla, Camille left her colleagues in favor of making the acquaintance of the newest member of their little school. As she slid into the vacancy, she caught the girl's attention. Aerla paused, fork halfway to her mouth, as the soft breeze from this stranger's arrival ghosted over her face. She sat down the bite of food and tilted her head, regarding the woman with curiosity.
"Miss Gribben," Camille introduced, offering her hand to Aerla from across the table. She briefly considered giving the girl her first name, but thought it best to stick to a more formal approach for now. Camille's heart leaped to her throat when Aerla took her hand to give it an awkward shake.
"Name's Aerla Grae, Miss," Aerla replied politely, though there was an edge to her voice that seemed to Camille as if the girl would rather have not been disturbed. At that, Camille should have left, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Instead, she stayed, remaining quiet so as not to disturb her further. Some of the other girls at the table cast suspicious glances down their way, but one glare from Camille and they went about their own business once more.
They were isolated at their end of the table, just as Camille wanted it to be. There was a danger in numbers. It had been that way with Fiamma. She vowed then that it would be different with Aerla. She wouldn’t let anyone come between them. Despite her efforts not to stare, Camille's eyes wandered back to Aerla time after time. She wanted to ask questions, get to know her, but the girl's standoffish tone gave her pause. She couldn’t push, or she’d resist, just as Fiamma had.
Camille attempted to push the thoughts of Fiamma out of her head. That was the past. She only need think of her in order to not repeat her past mistakes. It would only serve to depress and anger her to think of the wretched girl now. Now she had Aerla to think of. Aerla deserved her at her best, not sullen and moody. And she would prove herself in time. She just had to figure Aerla out and be what she needed her to be.
A thought nagged at the back of Camille's mind. In spite of herself, she voiced it. "Tell me, what exactly was it that brought you to St. Mathilde’s?"
Aerla seemed surprised by the question, as she froze, eyes widened. After she swallowed her bite of food, she answered with another question. "What have you been told?" She sounded accusatory, as if Camille already knew the truth of her situation and still wanted to hear the confession from her own lips.
"Only that there was an incident that resulted in you leaving your previous school for this one," Camille informed gently. Aerla seemed quick to anger, and that was the last thing Camille wanted to leave as a first impression.
"It was harmless," Aerla began in defense of herself, leaning in so as her story would reach Camille's ears only. "I kissed one of the girls at my last school." Camille's heart pounded in her chest at Aerla's admission. It began thudding so loudly in her ears that she feared she wouldn’t be able to hear the rest of Aerla's story. "We got caught in the stairway and the stupid girl blamed me. Said I'd taken advantage of her, when she wanted me to do it, but was too ashamed to admit to it. So I was expelled and sent here. I’m surprised they didn’t tell you. They had no problem telling everyone else as if I’m some sort of monster."
"You're not a monster," Camille was quick to reply. "You followed your heart, your desire, and that is the most important thing in life." This elicited a smile from Aerla, as Camille suspected she may have been the first one to stand up for her and take her side in this matter. Perhaps this would be her way into Aerla's heart.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Locked Tomb Series | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Augustine the First/Alfred Quinque
Characters: Augustine the First (Locked Tomb Series), Alfred Quinque
Additional Tags: there is a dismal lack of augustine content, so here is my terrible attempt at fixing that, i think about augustine and alfred far more than any sane person should, luckily i am not one of those, god they loved each other, i insist upon this
@sintember okay this is the second one i’ve managed, i took the prompt quite loosely, and also it’s 350 words lmao. but hey! i did it! i hope someone wants this content as much as i do
The first piece of fiction I've sat down to write and finish in years, and my first written piece for @sintember 's month of delightfully sinful prompts ^^ !
Day 1: Obsession - Love? Hate? Lust? Fear? Worship? Whatever the case, it’s all they can think about.
Featuring: original characters, a mother/underaged son pairing.
Word count: 1k
Warnings: explicit sexual content, incest, (extremely) underage, medical neglect, rape, infantalization, fantasizing about cannibalism, descriptions of being pregnant and complications while giving birth.
This work isn't for everyone and contains material that may be upsetting, so please be careful if you decide to read it and let me know if there's any other warnings I need to add. Thank you! –🪢
———
These days, nothing ever seems to be enough for her.
It isn't enough to hold him close, the peak of her breast held in his mouth while his prick prods against her hip. It isn't enough to feel joined at the place he came from, either, to know that at least part of him had returned to her– she wants more. She wants him to climb back into her warmth, to be a part of her again... It's cruel that the two of them had ever been seperated in the first place, she thinks with a forlorn sigh.
"Mama?" Her baby's voice stirs her from her thoughts and she smiles, cupping his cheek as she meets his sleepy gaze. He gives her a small, concerned frown as he continues, "you looked sad just now."
"I was just thinking about something silly," she dismisses, kissing his forehead and letting her hand drift down to stroke along his spine. She's a firm believer that skin-on-skin contact is just as important six years into a child's life as it was on day one. And she takes every precaution she can to make sure no one has the opportunity to tell her otherwise. "...do you remember the story of how you were born, baby?"
"Uh-huh," he says with a little grin, having heard it a million times but seeming to enjoy retelling it as much she does. "I grew really big in your belly, because you didn't want me to leave, and I didn't, either."
"They had to take you out of me by force," she continues the story, her eyes misting a bit as she hugs him closer. It didn't matter how many times they went over the story together, the memory would never fail to make her emotional. "That's how much we loved being together. That's how close we still are, baby..."
He hugs her back, and her heart aches at the size and strength of his arms. He's always growing bigger, always soaring past milestones that make him less dependant on her– the quacks at the pediatrician clinic had said that he was actually behind his peers in terms of development, but she stopped taking him there. She's going to cling to every last bit of the baby in her baby boy, thank you very much. She'll never let go, never–
"Mama," he whispers, soft but still enough to ground her again. Her precious little anchor, her everything... He pecks her lips, holding her face in his chubby fingers. "Do you want me to go back in?"
She wants to cry at his thoughtfulness, at how he always seems to know just what she wants. Right on cue, he kisses her mouth again, holding still for her to kiss back and sob a bit into it.
"Yes, baby," she manages, smiling as she nuzzles his cheek and rearranges them so that his hips are slotted between her thighs. He purses his lips into that cute little pout he always makes when he's focusing, and already she feels the feeling of desperate need begin to ebb. The tension in her muscles melts further as the tip of his cock nudges against her opening, and she coos, "Right where you belong..."
She spreads her lips, guiding him forward by his buttocks to slip right inside of her, and he whimpers at the sensation of being engulfed by her warmth. She wraps her legs and arms around him, wriggling her hips to feel him press against her inner walls. A tiny squeak leaves his lips at the movement, and she relishes in the way he presses even closer, closer still...
She misses how he used to press against her from the inside, his tiny feet playfully exploring the walls of her womb. She misses being able to hold one hand to her ever-extending tummy, the other on her clit, while imagining he could feel all the pleasure that she could. She wasn't exaggerating when she said the hospital staff had forced him out of her– they'd graciously kept it off of her files, chalking it up to the delirious urges of a single mother giving birth alone, but nobody in the roomed missed it when she reached down and tried to keep her baby from crowning.
What wouldn't she do to keep him as close as possible? Every year he's bound to grow more independent, more eager to leave her side... She unconsciously digs her fingers into his soft, perfect skin as she contemplates making sure he can never leave. She could eat him bit by bit until his body becomes part of hers once more... She'd swallow him whole if she could, if only to feel her stomach bulge outward at the size of him again, the two of them becoming as inseperable as the day he first formed within her womb--
Her baby cums with his prick buried as deeply inside of her warmth as it can reach, his cry of pleasure muffled against her skin. The intimacy of the act tips her over the edge she'd already been narrowly balanced on, having become excited by her ever-spiraling fantasies. She groans softly in satisfaction, kissing the side of his head and ear over and over again until he squirms from overstimulation, releasing him with a chuckle.
"Mama, it's all wet, now," he gasps with a giggle, caught between wanting to pull his cock away from the intense stimulation of her cunt and wanting to hide it away from the cooler air of their bedroom.
"I'll keep it warm while I get the bath ready, okay?" She promises, gently cupping his crotch as she lifts him up and into her arms-- her perfect baby is still small enough to carry, she notes with glee. "After that, it's time for breakfast and then we'll continue your lessons."
"Okay!" He lets her carry him as always, taking a moment to affectionately press his cheek against her collarbone, and her heart melts.
The world might do everything in its power to seperate them, hell– time itself seems to be an enemy of what they have together. But for now her sweet baby is just as eager to be close to her as she is to him, and she'll cherish every second of it.
