Amor Sanguinum (Yandere Vampire Feitan x Reader)

6

Feitan moves the blankets off of your sleeping form, crawling on top of you in the process. Your sleep is a dreamless one, face rested in neutrality. He's mulled it over in his mind half a million times, all the ways this could go, the ways he wants this to go. There's a full moon out, pooling into your room and shining over the both of you. He settles on top, straddling your hips to keep you from kicking too much. Feitan examines your face, looking for any sign that you might be awake. He pokes at your cheeks, pinching them lightly. No unnatural twitch of the mouth. His hand trails down to your throat, running a finger over it. You don't move, don't stir and don't make any noise in your slumber.

Feitan smacks your cheek lightly, aiming to wake you up gently (maybe change this word), it's the least he can do, given what's in store for you.

When you finally open your eyes, having to blink a few times to see what's going on, Feitan's touch becomes rougher. Grabbing your face in his hand and squishing your cheeks together once he's decided you're awake enough. One of your hands shoots to his wrist to try to get him off, but it's futile.

"If you scream, I kill you. Understand?"

You nod, a terror gripping you as you come to realize your situation. Adrenaline is racing through you and Feitan can tell. Sweat beading on your forehead and the way your eyes try to find his motivation. Is he going to kill you, hurt you, force himself on you? He can practically hear your blood rushing in your veins, the frantic beatings of your heart. Poor thing, you're like a prey animal that just realized they've been being stalked, and that it's too late for them to escape.

Feitan's made sure to have his fill before coming to you, the last thing he needs is losing control and taking too much. He isn't here to drain you of your blood, and he doesn't need you to be weakened by blood loss. There isn't anything you can do to overpower him, especially not after he's had a taste. There's no urgency, not like this is the first time nor will it be the last.

The image of you, waiting for him in his basement with your pretty flesh on display for him to bite into. It's enough to make him shudder with anticipation and revolting delight. Your neck, collarbones and shoulders are visible now, begging him to sink his fangs in and make you bleed. It's good for both of you that Feitan has experience with where in the throat and shoulder to cut to cause the most damage. He could avoid biting right into one of your carotid arteries, potentially killing you. He wonders if you have the faintest clue of how careful he's being right now. If you do, you better be grateful.

Your blood is hot in his mouth, it almost cloys his senses in the best way possible. It makes his mouth water, this is probably the most lecherous thing he's ever done.

He can hear your whining, pathetic little mewling sounds escaping the throat he's feeding from. The pained attempts to not scream. The thought crosses his mind that you probably make these noises during sex too. Feitan knows you're in pain, that you're not whimpering because you're enjoying this. But he's put a lot of effort into this moment, he can pretend for a second that you are. His hips twitch against your stiff form, and he pushes himself further into you, taking in your scent. Iron, sweat, and the smell of your shampoo. If he had any less dignity and self restrain he might have taken you right there.

Your face, scrunched in pain was now twisting in disgust. It was already gross when he was chewing on your neck, but this wasn't just violence for the sake of it, he was really enjoying this. A louder yelp escapes you when one of his hands trails down to your side, almost resting on your hip and his nails pierce your flesh. A louder noise escapes you this time, not liking where his hands are.

"Shut up." He says against your throat, and you can feel it. You try to say sorry but no words come out, just a weak apologetic snivel. Feitan doesn't want you to shut up, he wants you to be louder. To scream and cry, for your neighbors to try and place hero again. He'll kill them, right in front of you and slash at your legs when you try to run from him. He hopes he can get you to scream, but perhaps it's a good thing you're being so obedient early on. It certainly saves him further trouble down the road.

Feitan gets a last taste, holding your blood in his maw. He readjusts himself and comes up to face you. Your face is noticeably paler, stained with tears and your lower lip trembling. Feitan's sure his heart is beating just as fast as yours (though for different reasons, obviously). His lips curl into a smile and blood runs down from his mouth to his chin, dripping onto your face. Feitan forces a kiss onto you, your mouth already halfway open for him out of shock. A muffled shriek escapes you once you realize what's going on. The blood that he sucked out of you was now going into your mouth. He was trying to make you drink it. He's crazy, he's fucking crazy. He's force-feeding you your own blood like you're a baby bird. Feitan stays like that, not letting you get out of this.

Whether by choice or not, you swallow your blood. You feel like throwing it up immedietly, whether it be because it's fucking blood or because you swallowed it lying down. You don't care about being quiet anymore, full-on sobbing. You cough and some of your blood comes out, which Feitan swipes with his thumb. You try to sit up, shoulders shaking and you start coughing even more. Feitan's still on top of you, now scooted back a bit.

You look up to your attacker, another surge of fright running through your frail body. It's as if the devil himself is in your bed, covered in your blood and looking at you with a twisted adoration and sense of pride. You're suddenly aware of how clammy you are, drenched in sweat and covered in goosebumps. The man in your bed says something but you can't hear him, only able to hear the blood rushing in your ears and an awful ringing. You can hardly see him, the edges of your teary-eyed, blurry vision becoming increasingly dark and fuzzy.

Feitan looks at your unconscious form, hands twitching to touch you again. He'll need to get something for your neck, can't have you losing too much blood and dying on him. For now, he presses one of your blankets to where he tore at your flesh. He'll get a hold of Machi later if he has to.

He can't wait to do this again.