#vamp!lock

[harpval002]

Fem!Vamp!Shidou x Fem Reader. Suggestive. Blood. Killings mentioned.

　　　　　It’s almost time for Halloween 🌚

☾ ☠︎︎༒︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚. ♱⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ♱‧₊˚. ݁˖ ݁𖥔 . ☠︎︎༒︎☽

Her skin was tanned, her body was well defined. You’d believe it if she told you she was sculpted from marble.

All the stories you’ve heard, the folk lore, the old wives tales. The depictions of porcelain skin and slender bodies, sleek hair. Inability to stand beneath the sun. None of those descriptions befitting the woman before you.

Though you’ve always had underlying suspicions. It began with her inconvenient disappearances. Her strength that surpassed anyone you’ve ever played against, practice scrimmage became tactical. Her pupils never dilated, never needing to absorb light.

The killings followed, they’ve always been there. Too many to just be by her. The thought of more of her kind made your throat run dry.

The upward curl of her lip sent a shiver down your spine. The teeth that lay behind those lips razor sharp—you’ve never paid that much attention, you can only assume she bears fangs—those pink glossy lips have torn the throats out of grown men. She left such a mess behind it led locals to believe it was by animal. An animal that sucks the blood from living things and leaves the carcass behind? An animal that feed solely on humans?

Their throats torn out violently, forensic investigators unable to even name the anatomy. Okay, I guess you can see where they get the idea an animal did it.

“The look on your face,” she smirks. “It truly is priceless.” Her thumb drags across your bottom lip. A nail (claw) gently gliding over your top lip. Even in your darkened bedroom, her pupils remain narrowed. Pupils dilate in response to light, the less light there is the more they grow to absorb what little light you can. Without the light, you can’t see.

“You’ve killed people, Ryu.” You search her gaze desperately. There’s not a speck of remorse in those pink irises.

“Haven’t we all?” If she could breathe, you’d be able to taste her breath. You lean back against your headboard. She grins. God.

“How long?”

“Gonna need you to be specific, sweetheart.”

“How long have you been a vampire?” You choke out.

“Four hundred and fifty years. Not accounting for my time as a human.” Your heart sank. She was old, very old. There’s a beat of silence. “Four hundred and fifty years, and I’ve never met someone like you. You make me hungry, doll.”

Your body stiffens and the hairs on your arm stand on end.

“I figured everyone would make you hungry.” Your legs draw up, knees armor for your chest. She smirks and places her hands on your knees, urging them to part. When they didn’t part upon command, she pushes them down to accommodate her weight.

“Not the way you do. You’re not food, relax.” She grins, reaching a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’d love to devour you. But not in the way you’re thinking.” Her voice drops an octave, her gaze suddenly magnetizes to your lips.

Oh, she’s that kind of hungry.

The ache between your thighs betrays the adrenaline in your veins. By the flare of your nostrils you’re certain she can smell your arousal. There’s no fighting it, not when she’s this close. Not when her hands are positioned on your thighs, keeping them apart.

“Say you trust me.” She drops the words in your ear. A command, even if she didn’t mean it. Your lower lip quivers, your head turning to the side as she leans into your neck. You’re suddenly hyper aware of your jugular.

“I trust you.” You say meekly.

You’ve barely finished your sentence, a dominant hand turning your head to face hers. Easier access for her to slant her lips against yours.

Without breaking the kiss she moves closer, hooking your legs over her hips, near folding you up against the headboard as your body slouches down. Your neck is strained in this folded position, but you’re too gone to care.

Soft whines escaping your lips at every teasing graze of her teeth, you feel the smile on her lips as she man-handles you beneath her. Inhumane strength pressing your arms up and overhead, hands pinning you down by your forearms. Her grip tight on your skin.

“This ends when the sun rises,” she murmurs as she trails sloppy lines of kisses down to your jaw. She inhales at the hollow of your throat before groaning. Your heart speeds up, and you turn your gaze to the clock on your nightstand. The digits in the small rectangle glowing a gentle red.

3:01 AM.

☾ ☠︎︎༒︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚. ♱⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ♱‧₊˚. ݁˖ ݁𖥔 . ☠︎︎༒︎☽

I’ve been watching TVD😼 expect more vampire stuff.

[consult-sherlockholmes]

How do you fight the urge to bite him when you around John?

You make it sound like I am a vampire. I wouldn't bite to kill. But he is delectable.

Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. I am very good at suppressing any impulses or intrusive thoughts. If I wasn't, I would have already murdered several people that annoyed me, upset me or threatened anything that is important to me. In fact, Anderson and Donovan would be long decayed and turned into fertiliser if I wouldn't be able to suppress any murderous instincts. Same applies to other people that upset, annoyed or bullied me. Of course in John's case it would never be a murderous impulse.

[rhasima]

Sorry for shit talking lately... Here have some new Johnlock work!

I always like the vamp!lock AU. I mean, how sexy can Sherlock be?

So have some biting/kissing Johnlock right now for you ❤

[lizmindpalace]

Blood and Crime

Summary: A new and unusual murderer will make Sherlock change in ways he would have never expected.

Warnings: In this work there will be eventual explicit content, graphic depictions of violence, there may be a lot of triggers such as anxiety, depression, paranoid, mental illness, murder, suicidal tendencies, horror, very toxic relationships, manipulation, sexual innuendoes, gore, lots of blood, nightmares, fantasy and vampires.

You can find it also on AO3.

Chapter 7- Crime

Newspapers could be found piled up in the centre of the living room at Baker Street on the little table when a recent and interesting crime was slowly encroaching the attention of everyone in London, a serious crime, either because it was ticklish and involved ravening murderers or because it had to be solved having a race against time. It was almost unfathomable the way facts could be twisted among the lines of the sensationalism of the London press and in order to approach as much as possible to the real story, the notes of every newspaper had to be read, hence the coincidences in all of them could be found. 

However, in this specific case, there was little to be told, most of journalists agreed that the atrocity of the crime had been vast, and at the same time invisible, they could not decide, allegedly the case was so eerie, they were all perplexed and their tiny detective skills were useless now, they could not find a rational explanation to the thread that had led to that situation. John, on the other hand, trusted Sherlock would be able to make the pieces fall into places and solve that puzzle, no matter how much tangled it was. 

"So?"

John knew Sherlock's eyes shone every time he had a clue, even if his face remained emotionless, and that triumph expression was now drawn in his pupils, defeating his cold and apathetic look.

"I haven't figured it out yet" he muttered. "I will, soon". 

 Sherlock had given in his habit of smoking and nicotine patches turned out being an effective displacement to fight anxiety, product of the uncertainty that the lack of knowledge brings with it, as if it was a thunder that surprises an individual lost in the middle of the darkness, yet over the last days, Sherlock had increased the amount of patches from three to seven but his anxiety or desire for an adictive substance, that was not cocaine or morphine, would not recede.

He had adopted his usual but always weird position that indicated he was wandering through his mind palace and John noticed he was having trouble focusing, so he decided to give him some time alone, after all, he had things to do and the feeling of a crime such as this one was dismal... or enthralling, it depended on the individual, or rather if his last name was Watson or Holmes.   

It was a mental clinic in the north of London, in the area where the patients under serious conditions were treated, whose mental health was completely damaged. That wing in the hospital served as shelter for people that suffered from schizophrenia and were no longer able to discern real life from their hallucinations, real people from their persecutors; dissociative identity disorder and some with several and more complicated illnesses such as zoophagous people and even there was a case of cannibalism that was under control, according to the expert of the hospital. 

In words of the nurses, one of the patients, who had not been so long there and whose diagnose had recently improved, had to be putted down once more using tranquilisers over the last week, due to a sudden and unexpected aggressive period as well as uneasiness, both making a mortal combination, almost impossible to control. At night, a tranquiliser would be injected after dinner, hence he could sleep, the patient would show some resistance because he argued there was some kind of presence waiting for him to fall asleep though. It was planned some brain radiographs would be taken to find out if it was schizophrenia the new inhabitant of his brain, the one that produced the deliriums. 

That evening he had persisted with his ideas; he said the shadow he would always see under the moonlight that came through the little hole, that was supposed to be a window, had told him it would be his last night. The nurses tried to make him stay calm, tried to shut his fears and provided him the medicine, as they would do now every night. The next morning once they unlocked the door, they found out lying on the floor a distorted face: puffy closed eyes, broken nose, twisted lips, disfigured cheekbones as though he had received a thrashing, the spine was also broken, and he had suffered from an acute anaemia, there was not a single drop of blood in his body. The view left everyone flabbergasted, no one was able to find an explanation to such a violent death for a man, and the way the facts had occurred was also an enigma that could not be solved.

Lestrade was also surprised, and he also lacked a proper explanation of the facts, he was limited by his abilities in the criminology science, so he had called Sherlock at first time in the morning, hoping that his knowledge and abilities would be of use, and he could actually explain what had happened in that case with such a turbulent and dark environment, he knew it was Sherlock's speacialty and at any second, he would be begging for him to come to the crime scene. 

A couple of hours later, the detective moved around the room with cold but light hues as if it was a place he knew well. There was no trace of intruders, no one who was an outsider had been there, except for the detective himself, of course, who carefully walked from one spot to another and was now examining the corpse, there was no trace of murder, yet those injuries had to be produced by someone else, the victim could not have done that to himself, and in addition, no one had heard anything, not a single noise coming from either the room or another part of the hospital. It had been a quiet night for the patients, allegedly, everyone had deeply slept, regardless the fact the screams of the victim must have uttered, due to that massacre, should have been heard all around the place, and someone should have gone to give a look, to help. 

"Any theory?"  Lestrade was shocked, and that picture had left a knot in his stomach that would not disappear before some time, at least some days.

"Two" Sherlock snickered, he didn't think he had to force himself to hide his fun, he hadn't had such a good mood since a long time ago, and this case was both interesting and dreadful, features he loved when it came to a case. Sometimes detective inspector Lestrade could not stand Sherlock Holmes' behaviour, and his blood would freeze.

"Which are?" he asked in an attempt to rush things; hence he could send Sherlock home and stop seeing that damn sociopathic smile.

"Either he was killed under the effects of a strong drug or poison, or someone in this place murdered him and had some allies. We'll wait for the forensic examination results". 

The detective went back to Baker Street under the moonlight, the coldness was slapping his curls and immaculate face, but he didn't feel cold. 

-

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You can read the finished work in Spanish on Wattpad.

[musicprincess1990]

Flufftober, Day 5

"Sparkle"

Oh, goody. Another prompt that's going to be at least a two-parter. My head is spinning from all the WIPs. GAHHHH!!! Anyway, this little snippet will have to do. The remainder will be posted on Ao3, once it's finished.

*

“Why in God’s name does his skin glitter?”

“That’s just what she wrote.”

“Ridiculous,” he muttered, returning to his microscope.  “Once again, the human race proves how very little it knows.”

Molly pressed her lips together from the effort of suppressing a laugh.  She had made the mistake (though she felt no remorse, considering his reaction) of telling Sherlock about a certain American author’s interpretation of his kind.  Naturally, he was affronted… never mind that said author was half right.  Sunlight did not instantly burn vampires to a crisp.  Only prolonged exposure to direct sunlight would be harmful, and it would take several hours before there was any real damage.  Yes, she would admit the sparkling was a bit much… but not yet.

A girl needed to have some fun, after all.

“Heaven forbid someone apply creative liberties to what they assume is a fictional being,” she muttered.

In an instant, he was at her side, his inhuman speed sending a few papers flying.  “Molly.”

“Sherlock,” she replied, not so much as blinking.

“Please tell me you don’t actually like that drivel?”

Molly stared back at him, holding a straight face for an impressive fourteen seconds before breaking out into a grin.  “Not in the least.  How could I, when I have intimate experience with the real thing?” she added with a saucy quirk of her brow.

His perfect lips curved into a smirk.  “And don’t you forget it.”

[sherlockedcarmilla]

Sanguineous Serendipity

by CarmillaCarmine ( @sherlockedcarmilla )

AU. Vampire Sherlock meets a dying John in a field hospital in Afghanistan and gives him a whole new life. Explicit, 35K

CHAPTER 14: “FREE” is up!

As Sherlock's recollection of his story nears an end, John needs to decide what to do with his future.

***This fic is now COMPLETE at 35K***

Let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged in future fics/updates.

Thank you for the subscriptions, comments and encouragement! You are all amazing readers! THANK YOU.

[cupidford]

How to lose a guy in 10 days: Vamp!Lock AU by MorganeUK

Johnlock Love Letters #1881

A vamp!lock version of the wonderful and silly romcom “How to lose a guy in 10 days!”

[morganeuk]

How to lose a guy in 10 days: Vamp!Lock AU

Chapter 28: Enough! I’ve heard enough!

(excerpt - Sherlock at Highgate Cemetery)

After a few minutes, he stopped in front of the Egyptian Gate. Oh no, I wanted to arrive by one of the small entrances, not passing through this cut-throat of a tunnel! He was pondering his options when a light flashed at the end of the small tunnel.

“Come in, Mister Holmes, we are waiting for you.” Directing the torch on the wall of the tunnel, the mocking voice added, “nothing to worry about, I need to talk to you first.” The man chuckles, “and Johnny boy is waiting for you.”

Without hesitation, Sherlock entered the majestic entrance to the Lebanon Catacomb, and shouted, “don’t you dare touch even one of his fingers!”  The beauty and majesty of the Egyptian sculptures in the tunnel were lost to him, as eager as he was to get to John. 

At the end, he turned to his left, then his right, looking for the doctor and his opponent.

“Follow the circle…”, the voice of the criminal resonated in the closed space, his cheeriness an affront to the vampire’s concern.

A special addition to my series of rom-com adaptation, especially for Fictober!

Beta read by the wonderful @notjustamumj

One chapter a day for 31 days! (Almost!)

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20798864/