“Now now my dearest little lamb, what have you gone and done to yourself this time?” An unmistakably sweet voice singsongs from behind you. The sudden heavy presence causes the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end.

  Ferid Bathory.

 “Poor thing… did you hurt yourself? Don’t be shy let me see.” The vampire croons gently against the shell of your ear, now suddenly much too close for comfort. Before even getting the chance to turn and face him, the progenitor crossed into the kitchen and now looms over you like a ghost. You can feel the cool brush of his breath as he talks down to you. Subconscious alarm bells sound off in the back of your mind as primal instincts awaken and tell you to run.

 You whirl around in fear to face the vampire with kitchen knife in hand ready to strike. This seems to amuse Ferid as he chuckles down at your startled expression, your pupils blown wide as adrenaline courses through your veins. He traps you between his tall slender body and the countertop, lithe arms caging you in on either side. Slow and careful as though approaching a feral animal the vampiric noble reaches out to slide the knife from your hand. Calculating irises examine the blade, the cool steel stained with a tiny fleck of your own blood. In that moment you swear you can see his catlike pupils constrict with interest.

 “It seems I was correct in my assumption.” Lord Ferid chuckles darkly in the back of his throat. Slowly he sets the knife down on the countertop beside you. “Humans are so fragile. Such a shame when they are so clumsy. Posing a threat to even themselves.” He hums with that sickening saccharine smile. You clench your jaw and tense when he reaches to trail his fingers down the arm that you keep firmly clutched behind your back.

 “Hiding your injury is a fruitless effort. I could smell it from across the manor.” Ferid reaches an elegant hand to stroke his knuckles against your cheek. He pauses to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ear, before guiding your gaze up to meet his own with two fingers poised beneath your chin. He touches you as though you are made of porcelain causing a sweet rosy flush to rise to your cheeks. When he strokes his thumb across your lower lip butterflies burst in the pit of your stomach. Your pulse races.

 “I was cutting vegetables for a soup, but my hand slipped…” You try and explain in a small voice. It is so hard to keep eye contact with the progenitor so your gaze flicks down to observe the ruffled lace of his cravat. The gash on your hand throbs as you feel blood steadily trickling out from the wound. It was almost certainly dripping down onto the cutting board of diced carrots and celery ruining your hard work. You didn’t know how Ferid kept his self-control. If he could smell your blood from across the house, the kitchen must be inundated with your scent. Any other vampire would have been driven into a frenzy. Yet here the progenitor stands gently caressing your face in an attempt to coax you out of your anxiety around him.

 “Just relax darling.” Ferid soothes sweetly. “I just need to take a look at the injury. I wouldn’t want my favorite pet bleeding out on me now would I?” The nobleman asks rhetorically. His hand leaves your face and reaches to grip the wrist hidden behind your back. Ferid’s touch borders on forceful hinting at his true vampiric strength hidden behind his carefully crafted mask. Despite your better judgement you try and pull your arm away.  “It’s only a small cut Lord Ferid.” You mutter in an unsure voice. The vampire chuckles as his smirk widens showing off the pointed edges of his fangs. He saw through you as clearly as a windowpane. “I will run it under some water and patch it up. Promise.”

“Ah, ah. There is no getting out of this.” Ferid coos as he pulls at your wrist with his iron strength. It hurt to resist. “You may either submit willingly… or I can bend you to my will. The choice is yours little lamb.”

But of course… the truth was you really had no say in the matter. You could either show him the bleeding gash on your hand, or have your wrist broken as he wrenched it out from behind you. Within the walls of the Bathory mansion there was no such thing as choice or free will. Only the promise and illusion of it to make you feel as though Ferid didn’t completely own you.

 You close your eyes and allow the vampire to pull your arm from behind your back. He hums in quiet approval of your choice as his fingertips tuck between your own and pull your bloody fist apart. You let out a soft whimper as your injured palm is exposed to the air and the progenitor’s awaiting eyes. Fear begins to creep back into your mind and you start to shake in his grasp. Was he going to drain you right then and there? Is this where you were going to die?

 “Shh…” Comes Ferid’s voice as he inspects the cut. Gently he prods at the tender flesh cooing softly at you each time you flinch and whimper. His serpent smile indicates how much he is enjoying himself at your expense.  

 “You poor little thing.” He condescendingly hums before running his fingertip up the expanse of the gash, smearing the pooled blood in his wake. You flinch and cry out softly, trying to pull away from the sting of his touch. “It’s quite deep… you must be in terrible pain.” The vampire’s ruby eyes glint sadistically in the light clearly entertained by your suffering. Suddenly Ferid grips you firmly by the wrist before taking a step forward. He forces you back against the granite countertop and presses his body against yours. His hips pin you in place as his head lowers to the opening on your palm. Your heart jumps into your throat as his lips part revealing rapidly elongating fangs.  “Don’t! Please!” You gasp out in a panic, and much to your surprise… Ferid pauses. His slit pupils flick up to meet your gaze before he chuckles gentle as ever. In a careful fluid motion he brings his lips to caress your pulse point on your wrist. Your mind spins in confusion at the sudden tenderness of the kiss.

 “Easy now little lamb.” He whispers and meets your gaze with eyes half lidded. Silvery white lashes flutter as he presses his lips along your pulse once more. The faintest stain of your blood paints his lips from where he’d laid his kisses. “Relax for me now, I am not going to hurt you. It’s all going to be okay.” Ferid whispers in a melodic tone much like a siren luring it’s prey. He speaks to you low and intimate; sweet reassurances only for you to hear. You can’t help the way you react to his gentle words, tension in your shoulders beginning to melt away as your breathing slows. He is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, smiling so tenderly at you as your apprehension fades from your subconscious. For a moment as you stare mindlessly into vibrant eyes the color of the lycoris flowers, you could almost forget that he was a vampire. The backlighting from the lanterns on the walls set him in an ethereal glow making him appear almost angelic. Almost.

The illusion is soon broken when Ferid dips low to swipe his tongue along the length of the gash on your hand. Your gasp of shock breaks the still silence in the air. The pain of the motion is so intense you can’t help but try and wrench your arm out of his grasp.

Tears prick in your eyes as he drags his tongue up the wound for a second swipe, but to your surprise it doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as the first lap.  “Hush my love… don’t fight it. This will help ease the pain.” Ferid purrs against your palm before continuing to lick at the cut. He is gentler this time when he delves back in, moving slow and sure as the tip of his tongue prods at the deepest points of the wound. You bite back a whimper at the strange feeling, something warm starting to boil in the pit of your stomach. Goosebumps prickle up your neck, and your entire hand tingles with a familiar pleasurable warmth. The pain all but a distant memory now, it finally dawns on you the purpose of this exchange.

His venom… in his saliva… that was his play.

 Ferid smiles against your palm as your body goes slack against his. In a matter of minutes his venom takes it’s hold, weakening your muscles and filling your head with clouds. There is no more pain only warmth rapidly spreading to every part of your body. Your breathing is labored and hot as you lay defenseless against the progenitor. Butterflies of pleasure erupt in your stomach each time he draws blood from the open wound. It feels so good. It always does when he feeds from you. You could die happily in this euphoria, no longer caring if he were to drink you dry. Vampires were truly the apex predator. Their venom delivering such a quick and potent high, their victims easily giving in and becoming addicted to their bite.

 It is over all too soon as Ferid finally pulls away. Your blood coats his lips and drips from the side of his mouth but really you don’t much care. You blink up at him with your head completely empty, still riding the high from the dose of his venom.

 “There we go. Such a good pet.” Ferid praises as he reaches behind you to grab a cloth off the countertop. Quickly he wraps your wounded hand before lifting you up into his arms as though you weighed nothing. “Your blood is always so sweet. Not a single drop should ever go to waste.” The vampire muses as he smirks down at your blissful expression. Your eyes feel so heavy as you stare up at him in a daze. He coos at you in mock pity before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

Y/N groaned and pushed their hair back. They’d been sitting in the library for hours trying, and failing to do homework. Due to their horrible procrastination they had left all their homework to Sunday night. So instead of being curled up in bed scrolling through social media or watching anime, they were sitting in the library… scrolling through Instagram.

Their scrolling was interrupted by a notification dropping down. It was a text from their… they wouldn’t really call him a friend, maybe acquaintance Feird. Y/N rolled their eyes and opened the messenger.  Normally they’d ignore him, nothing good usually came out of talking to him, but they really didn’t want to do their homework.

Rat Bastard 5:59 p.m What are you up too 6:00 p.m What do you care Rat Bastard 6:00 p.m Bored Got a date?;) Who’s like lucky guy

Y/N rolled their eyes, a common occurrence when talking with Ferid. Of course Feird would message them when he was bored. Next to Mika they were his favorite person to annoy. And Mika now had a boyfriend so Feird had taken to picking on them for being alone. Which was even more annoying because they wouldn’t be alone if Yuu and Mika hadn’t ended up dating each other. Not that they weren’t happy for them but it often left them alone and vulnerable to Ferid.

6:03 p.m Ya I do  What’s it to you Rat Bastard 6:04 Oh who’s the guy 6:04 It’s a study date With my math book I figured I’d go out with someone who has equal appeal :) Rat Bastard 6:10 p.m Well,

From behind them a hand caged Y/N in and the person lead over them saying, “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who hasn’t looked at a math book and said ‘Fuck me’.”

Y/N jumped and almost screamed before realizing it was Feird leaning over them. They reached up and pulled out their ear buds. They scowled up at him and opened their mouth to tell him off. Their words died in their mouth though as Faired leaned down and kissed them. Before they could close their eyes he pulled away and Y/N scowled.

“So, would you like a hand?” He stood up and pulled out the chair beside them and leaned in, “Or should we just get straight to the fucking?”

At that Y/N turned bright red and face planted into their book. Feird immediately started snickering and leaned back. Y/N was so lost in embarrassment that they didn’t notice Feird pulled their book out from under them until they hit the table.

“What the hell?” they whisper yelled.

“So, where are you stuck?” he asked like nothing had happened.

“Why do you care?” they scowled.

“I’m guessing you haven’t had dinner,” he said “ So, the sooner you finish, the sooner I can take you out for dinner.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

He looked up from their math book and smiled. He didn’t answer their question but that was the most sincere they’ve ever seen him smile. Taking their math book back, Y/n pointed to a question. Pushing over their notebook they smiled slightly.

this thing is a monster, and of all people it has picked you to entertain its whims and desires. It likes to doll you up, leave you to fend for yourself and whisper sweetly worded pities to you when things go wrong, because if you become too safe you become boring to it. He doesn't want to play with something that can maintain a sense of security and doesn't wonder if they should smash a chair over the head of whoever enters when they hear the door open. No, that's not entertaining.

he wants to play with someone so scared out of their mind they don't care what he does, they'll keep running back to him without a moment's hesitation, because however much hell he puts you through it'll never be the same as being alone.

at first it wasn't bad, at least not as bad as now, the occasion tousle here and there as he enjoyed tormenting you on the surface where everyone could see it, an odd form of humiliation. Then came the bargaining, the offers, the temptations as he attempted to coax you into trusting him, and you never did. He escalated again, and suddenly came the aggression, the grabbing, he was becoming less patient with you but no less coy.

he wants to see the product of a pure, unadulterated fear. He revels in seeing you pushed and pulled on the strings he's made for you, his little marionette, as you are brought to the lowest point of mental fortitude and highest peak of insecurity a Human being can reach while still teetering on the edge of your sanity just enough to rip you back to the sweet embrace of safety with a good tug on your chord. On the days you keep your mind you are nursed only by your own desire to live, though for what you haven't figured out yet, the fantasy you've made in your head of a prettier world seen through nothing but a comfortable pair of rose-coloured glasses seemingly your only idea.

it is a hell you wouldn't have fathomed before, not until you learn the pain of leaning yourself against the bathroom sink on the hard tile floor, feeling across your scalp for the laceration you know is there from the pool of blood you woke up in and the head-splitting pain. You know he will greet you with the perfect explanation, something that would start to make you question yourself if you hadn't danced this tune of lies and deceit many times.

your world is dismal, soul-draining and most glaringly, colourless, as if the world loses its bright hues and beautiful vibrance when your only memories are of a single colour that plagues you like no other. red.