With a smug smirk, Bakugou walked off. He knew he had pissed of the other blond bitch. Knew that it would surely get on his nerves. It was an old rumor in the coven, older than he was. After all, whispers of the old never die in the crevices of the cold stone walls of the castle. Only those with attentive ears could catch glimpses of those whispers.
‘Good.’ He thought. He heard Monoma growling and storming off the other direction. That’ll teach that bastard to talk lowly of him.
The hallway was empty, bar the singular undead making his way towards the throne room. It was late in the evening, surely the others are out and about; either out for blood or out for souls. He doesn’t give a shit. Doesn’t care for the others in the coven. Bakugou only cared about himself.
The blond felt eyes watching him as he continued on, those lifeless paintings staring at him, judging him. Paintings of the cursed family that took him in.
'I hate them. I hate them. I hate them all.’ the voice in his head was angry.
'Remember where your loyalties lie, Bakugou’ he could hear the bi-colored prince’s words, belittling him. As if he’d forget! They shove that loyalty bullshit onto his face every chance they get! It’s unlikely he’d forget about it anyway!
'I probably shouldn’t have agreed to let them take me. I could’ve made it on my own.’
'No’ a small part of his mind whispered. 'You would’ve died had they not taken you in. You would'nt have known how to get stronger.’
'You wouldn’t have met our lovely priest’ an even smaller part of his mind provided, stopping the vampire in his tracks. Yes. The red headed priest. His beloved clergy. His target. The man whose blood sings to him everytime they’re together, calling for him to take, to taste…. It agonizes him to be near the reverend, but he can’t get enough of him.
He wants Eijirou so badly.
Bakugou doesn’t even remember taking another step. Doesn’t remember climbing the spiral steps towards the large oak doors of the throne room. Did he actually walk? Did he shadow-walk? The blonde always loses himself in his thoughts about the priest.
’Father Eijirou’ he only dares to call the Holy man by his first name in his thoughts. 'You will be mine. I’ll make you mine, your mind, heart, body, soul. I’ll take it. It’s mine, all mine. You’re mine!’ His fangs grew longer as he was slowly sinking into the beginnings of bloodlust. The thought of finally sinking his teeth into the soft, warm flesh of Kirishima’s neck had his entire body shivering with want. Bakugou could only imagine the taste of the pulsating life source when it finally runs down his throat; would it be sweet? Savory? Would he taste like the richest wine? Would he get drunk from the blood? Would he get high off of the flavor?
This is bad. If he sinks any further into bloodlust he would lose himself.
The edges of his vision is already beginning to turn red, and his supernatural senses are heightened further. Fuck. He needs to drink. He feels so hungry…
Stop it. Stop it. Stop it stop it stop it don’t fall deeper-
The still sane part of his brain made Bakugou bite himself in the arm, jolting him out of the trance. How many months has it been since he last had a fulfilling meal? Animal blood could only sustain him for long.
Bakugou’s entire body was still twitching, shaking like an addict in withdrawal. He stood there in the hallway, steadying himself. If the king finds out he hasn’t been feeding, he’s in trouble.
A pale knuckle rapped on the door.
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