#ferid bathroy

So may I ask for a ferid scenario where he is trying to make his s/o feel jealous but it backfires.

Or if that doesn't work could I request how ferid would spend time with his s/o? Just like what would he want to do in his freetime with s/o?

Ah, welcome back feridsluver. It’s hilarious how you’re always on my ass two seconds after I post anything to do with Ferid. I think I’ll go with the second option, since that’s what I have the inspiration for right now.

How Ferid Bathory likes to spend time with reader~

Image off Pinterest, as usual.

🤍♦️It should come as no surprise that Ferid’s favorite way to spend time with you is by doing naughty naughty things to you, but that’s a different topic for a different post. For now, I will provide you with some sfw suggestions of what you can do to spend time with everybody’s favorite thirsty whore vampire!

🤍♦️Singing and dancing. If you don’t think Ferid would absolutely love screaming along to Panic! At the Disco, you’re wrong. This man has more energy than is strictly reasonable, but that’s what makes it fun! Come up with some fun choreography, or just improv it up! Either way, you’ll both be laughing hysterically by the end!

🤍♦️Art projects. If you’re the artsy type, Ferid would love to learn how to make different projects with you! Teach him to draw, paint, sculpt, or make things with resin. He learns quickly, though he sometimes takes his projects a bit too far. Expect some of his creations to be un-displayable.

🤍♦️Card and board games. There are so many to choose from! Ferid is an unreasonably fast learner, and he adores a good strategy game. He might even let you win from time to time!

🤍♦️Youtube/tiktok. Let me tell you, this man will make you go viral. No matter what topic you choose for your video, he will make it hilarious. His acting skills are incredible!

🤍♦️Watching TV. Again, Ferid's favorite genres are drama and comedy. I wholeheartedly agree with @feridsluver that one of his favorite movies would definitely be Mean Girls. I personally have never seen it, but I've seen the memes and I trust feridsluver's judgement on this matter. Be warned that if the TV doesn't have his full attention, you will!

My brain:

https://youtu.be/eTMb2UkW4xY

have them before i’m dragged away doing music coursework again

will try and get some more requests done this weekend 

Krul: boom

Mika: FERID

Ferid: *appears out of no where*

Crimson Sanctuary. Owari no Seraph.

Chapter one: The Girl in the Ashes

The sky was no longer blue.

It hung above the city like a death shroud—thick, noxious, bruised with smoke and sorrow. Each breath was a struggle, the air heavy with rot and the memory of screams. Buildings stood like the bones of giants, their shattered windows gaping with silent accusation, their steel spines jutting toward a sun that would never shine again. The world was a graveyard, and the only mourners left were children.

The virus had swept away the adults in a single, merciless tide. Streets once filled with laughter and life now ran with echoes and the stinging cries of the abandoned. Children wandered in packs or cowered alone, sobbing for parents who would never answer. The city itself seemed to recoil from their grief.

Ferid Bathory walked through this wasteland with the poise of a predator who knew the hunt was over. His boots made no sound, gliding over glass and bone as if the world itself parted for him. His white cloak billowed, ghostlike, in the foul wind—untouched by the filth that clung to everything else. The other vampires had already feasted, dragging the last trembling survivors from their hiding places, herding them below the earth where the sun could not follow. Ferid had no interest in such crude sport.

He paused, savoring the silence—a silence so deep it seemed alive, pulsing with despair. To Ferid, it was beautiful. The despair was a symphony, and he was its only audience.

Then—a sound. So faint it might have been a memory, or a trick of the wind. But Ferid's hearing was sharper than any mortal's. A child's cry—thin and broken, trembling with terror.

His crimson eyes slid upward, finding the source: a ruined building, half its face torn away, its insides exposed to the dying sky. With feline grace, Ferid leapt to the third floor, landing on a splintered ledge. His silhouette lingered in the window, a wolf at the threshold of the sheepfold.

Inside, the air was thick—choked with dust, and that uniquely human perfume: fear. In the shadowed corner, huddled against the wall, was a little girl. Her knees were drawn to her chest, her uniform filthy and torn, her golden hair streaked with blood and ash. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

Ferid watched her for a moment, savoring the scent of terror. Then his voice, soft as silk and twice as dangerous, slipped into the gloom: "Now, what have we here?"

The girl's head jerked up, emerald eyes wide and luminous with horror. She stared at him, lips quivering, too afraid to scream.

He gave her a slow, mocking wave, fingers curling like talons. "Lost, little lamb?"

She bolted—tried to, at least. Her small hands fumbled against broken glass, legs trembling with exhaustion and fright. Ferid let her run, his grin stretching wider as she stumbled through the rubble. For ten seconds, he allowed her the illusion of hope.

Then he moved. In a single, fluid sweep, he was behind her—cold fingers curling around her arm. She shrieked, a sound sharp enough to pierce the gloom, kicking and clawing at the air.

He lifted her easily, as if she weighed nothing. Her scent was intoxicating—warm, sweet, tinged with the musk of terror and innocence. She whimpered, voice breaking: "M-Mummy... please..."

Ferid leaned closer, his lips at her ear, breath cold as winter. "Shhh. She's not coming, darling. But I am here."

She wept, her small fists beating uselessly against his chest. Ferid only smiled, eyes glinting with cruel delight. "Such a pretty thing. I think I'll keep you."

From that moment, she belonged to him—not as mere livestock, not as another blood bag, but as something rare and fragile. A secret worth keeping.

Two years later, the world would know her as Ferid's shadow. She marched at his side, her small hand in his. She rode his shoulders through the vampire courts, her laughter echoing in marble halls that had forgotten joy. To the other vampires, she was a puzzle—a forbidden prize. To Ferid Bathory, she was a possession, a pet, a child, and perhaps the one spark of innocence he could never quite extinguish.