Vampire!Osamu keeps a bunch of blood in his giant special walk in fridge. Rows and rows of blood bags after blood bags, all categorised and labelled by their tartness, blood type, umami, expiry date, and sweetness. Whenever he wants a snack or a a full meal, that’s where he goes to cherry pick his choice.
It’s also password encoded because he’s sick of Atsumu stealing them whenever he’s too lazy to hunt. But ever since you’ve allowed him to feed from your body a few months ago, he decidedly handed over the 7-digit code to his twin to clear up his stock. It was instant in how Osamu realised that no other blood, regardless of how sought after or curated they were, could ever satisfy him the way yours does. Warm and hedonic and utterly gorgeous the way it slides down his throat — he’ll have to find a way to replicate it soon because it’s the fifth time in a month now that he’s accidentally overindulged, causing you to faint in his arms, again. It’s the best meal in all his life, but that doesn’t mean he wants to lose you in the process…
Vampiric gastronomy purely because Vampire!Osamu saw animal blood based dishes from various cuisines online the other day and now he’s practically on his knees, begging for some of yours. Not that he hadn’t tried it before (making dishes from human blood). Of course he has, who does anyone think he is? But! He’d been so into drinking straight from the source that the possibilities hadn’t even occur to him until he saw the blood cubes and stew and so on and so on.
You let him (take your blood, again) because one, you never could resist Osamu’s adorable, pleading, puppy eyes and two, it means he’d stop biting your neck for a bit (it’s getting a bit tiring having to explain to your friends that yes, you’re completely fine and no, it isn’t against your will). Your best friend rejoices, fist pumps and whoops out loud and all, before taking almost-too-gentle, careful measures of everything. The feeling of a normal needle, as supposed to the feeling of two pointedly sharp fangs, digging into your skin feels a little odd. A little lonely even. Not that you can or will or want to explain why, but when you glance at the way Osamu frets over you(r arm), a pang pierces you and you’re not sure if you have the means to explore that right now. So you don’t. You pack it deep away and instead, you watch him fondly in his new endeavour, mixing and stirring and tasting every step of the way — a dance practiced with love in the kitchen.
Nothing beats drinking right from your neck, Osamu quite shamelessly declares, but he thinks the closest that comes to it right now is held between two wooden chopsticks in his hands. Jiggly and soft and melts away in his mouth — cubes jellied purely from your blood, sat for awhile on a warm little dish. It was a delicacy in its own right.
One where only he gets to enjoy, to hoard, to savour. His, and his alone.
Contrary to popular belief within the vampire community (and the supernatural and the ‘normal’ and essentially all spaces the twins occupy), despite the differences in the presentation of themselves, the Miya Twins™️ are classified as identical twins for a reason. Identical in their faces, their physiques, their hunger, their drive, their determination, their playfulness, and most of all, their tastes. The difference comes in play when it’s down to the details of the matter. Atsumu and Osamu loves volleyball, but Atsumu craves it more. Atsumu and Osamu loves food, but Osamu appreciates it more. (Nearly) Same differences, but equal ground of their own spaces to carve their selected passion into. So it only makes sense that if Osamu is to be driven to near heaven with every mouthful of your blood, then theoretically, so will Atsumu.
That makes up a quarter of the reasoning in the bleach blond’s head when he catches the ferality blazing in Osamu’s bright red eyes, hunger almost akin to a wild beast even as his twin takes another audible gulp of your blood. Osamu, who is ‘technically’ the more composed one of the two. Osamu, the first one of the two to get ahold of his wits and common sense when they were first new to the concept of control. Osamu, who damn near snarls when he catches sight of Atsumu’s golden brown swirling with edges of maroon. As if he was young and uncontrollable again. As if he was starved and not in his right mind again. And maybe he wasn’t. And maybe, definitely, the main reason why Atsumu wants a taste of you too if it’s managed to reduce Osamu to this. Especially when the saccharine scent of your rich lifeblood permeates his every sense, driving him nearly as haywire as his brother looks.
Saliva fills Atsumu’s mouth, his vision tunnelling to the skin broken on your tender neck, and he feels the entirety of his fangs sharpening against his own will. He can’t say this is the first time he’s experienced this. After all, he’s lived for quite awhile now. But it’s definitely a first in a long, long time. Where the entire room closes in on him with air as heavy as it is heady. Is he breathing? Can he even breathe? He doesn’t even need to breathe, what the hell is he talking about? And yet, the blond’s chest heaves as if he’s desperate to because what else is he supposed to do other than drown in the smell of your blood? Ambrosian and inviting and—
Oh. That’s right.
“Fuck off, ‘Tsumu.”, and Osamu growls. Growls. Like an actual animal staking its claim. Frantic and selfish in his self-entitled rights to keep you all to himself. But the Miya twins are the Miya twins and they are identical twins for a reason. Just as one is headstrong-stubborn, so is the other.
invested in the vampire miya au… lol, feels like we don’t really see a lot of it in hq writing!
Thank you so muchhh I’m so glad you like the vampire AU 😭💗
I can’t comment much on the latter because I barely have time to read nowadays (also because I have poor memory 💀), but am more than happy to contribute to the fandom with the Miyas dripped in blood and fangs 🤤🥴
I just drafted a few new ideas for the AU too, hope you enjoy them when I put them out!
