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The first thing every human learns is that vampires can and will kill you.
The balance between vampires and humans is born from necessity. Vampires drink blood to survive, and humans survive by trying to not become prey. When one failed, the other had to finish the job. It was simple enough to believe, and Izuku had believed it for as long as he could remember.
Vampires were evil by nature, monsters that took and destroyed. Humans were the ones who suffered for it. It couldn’t be any clearer for Izuku — someone had to protect the good from being devoured.
Thus, becoming a hunter gave Izuku purpose.
As a hunter, he knew how to track vampires, how to starve them out of hiding, how to drive them out from the shadows. He studied their anatomy down to the smallest details. The poison in their bites and how the venom was delivered through their fangs. The signs of hunger setting in, pupils widening, breath going shallow at the scent of blood, that slight tremor before they struck.
Vampires were so desperate when they were hungry, they couldn’t even tell the difference between fake and real blood. They were pathetic enough to take Izuku’s bait every time, just a little pig blood, and they came running out into the open.
Everything Izuku learned about vampires repulsed him. They were wrong in every way — bodies made to gorge, fangs meant to kill. Gluttonous creatures by nature, they were a problem, and Izuku had taken it upon himself to fix it.
Izuku made a promising hunter, even his senior hunters considered him exceptional. He did not hesitate over kills or look back once the job was done. Monsters did not need justification. Ending them was simply the work.
He’d rinse his silver daggers under cold water, not giving a thought to whose blood ran down the sink; nor did he dwell on the fact that he was sharpening the daggers to kill. He had the highest success rate among hunters, and he didn’t earn that from feeling pity for monsters.
Hunters could not afford to show mercy to monsters when it meant it would cost another human’s life. That was the expectation. Izuku understood that protecting humans meant ending threats completely.
But somewhere along the line, something had gone wrong. Something became deeply wrong with Izuku.
He couldn’t remember deciding to change anything. Only that one day, his hands were already moving, hammering and sealing the windows with wooden planks, because leaving them open felt dangerous.
It didn’t stop there. When he bought the house on the edge of the old town, he tore it down to beams and brick and salt-lined earth. Each step after that felt just as necessary. He boarded every window, installed multiple locks, carved sigils into the foundation, layered protections until the air inside the walls felt dense, and salted the perimeter around the house. No hunter would think to look twice, and no vampire could come in, and most importantly, come out.
The house was perfect, unbreachable, a cage of his own making. Izuku knew it was excessive. He would later realize he’d started building it long before he understood who it was meant for.
Izuku remembers exactly when the shape of that cage first formed.
They had fought, of course, they had. That was the only way that meeting could go. Katsuki had been on top of him in the middle of a dark forest, teeth bared, blood dripping from his mouth onto Izuku’s face. Izuku had pressed his silver blade against Katsuki’s lips, holding him back, forcing him to stay just short of sinking fangs into his skin.
Still, somewhere beneath the panic and the strike of adrenaline, Izuku had thought, almost absently, that Katsuki was beautiful. Horribly, impossibly beautiful, even with the blood that streaked across his skin, even with the raging intent to kill Izuku in his eyes.
Izuku could’ve killed him that night. The opening had been there. Izuku could have hooked a leg, flipped him over, and taken control. He could have overpowered him, pressed the dagger to his chest, and ended it in a flash. He had the skill to finish it, and yet, he didn’t.
A part of him hesitated killing him because Katsuki was beautiful, unlike anything he’d ever seen. He didn’t look like the vampires Izuku had slain. They were supposed to be monsters, made ugly by what they were.
For one dangerous moment, an insane thought had crossed his mind that maybe this couldn’t be a vampire at all, because it should be impossible for something this beautiful to also be a monster.
But, there was no mistaking it. The man above him was a vampire. Katsuki was infamous among hunters, a threat no one took lightly, impossible to kill. He’d earned that reputation in blood. He had killed hunters, the best of them, too. Izuku had buried people who never came back from a hunt that crossed Katsuki’s path.
That was why they had sent Izuku. He was the best they had left, and he was the only one they believed could succeed where so many had failed. Izuku had listened to the survivors describe Katsuki in careful, shaken detail, but all of them failed to mention how gorgeous he was.
Izuku had gone out that night with one goal, and that was to kill Katsuki, but he had walked away without seeing it through. He couldn’t bring himself to kill Katsuki. He failed his duty as a hunter, and he knew he had done it on purpose.
They kept fighting until it stopped feeling like a fight at all, until they ended up smeared with each other’s blood, pressed up close, panting into each other’s open mouths. Izuku doesn’t remember who had kissed who first, but it didn’t matter, not when they wanted each other the same.
Their first kiss felt like being dragged under, like falling in love in a single breath. But the world they lived in did not allow for love between a human and a vampire to exist.
The rules were clear. Vampires killed humans, and hunters killed vampires. The world did not make room for exceptions. Harboring a vampire was a crime punishable by death. Loving one was not something the world knew how to punish, because it was never meant to happen.
Izuku convinces himself that the fight did this to him. That he got addicted to it, to the violence, to the way it felt to be that close to death. Katsuki must have infected him somehow, that something had slipped under his skin and into his blood, and left him obsessed.
He tells himself that’s why Katsuki won’t leave his mind, why he keeps wondering when they’ll meet again, or why he keeps going back out, calling it a hunt when it’s anything but.
Izuku knows Katsuki felt it too. There was no other explanation for how they kept finding each other, always in the middle. An abandoned church with its roof caved in, empty warehouses, and rooftops at night. Each meeting growing bolder than the last.
Izuku knew how dangerous Katsuki was. That was part of the appeal, though he did not admit it to himself at first. He liked that Katsuki could tear him apart. Izuku liked it even more that he chose not to.
When the meetings stopped being enough, the choice didn’t feel like a choice at all. Izuku told himself it was practical. Hunters were closing in. Izuku could feel the net pulling tighter. It was only a matter of time before another hunter would find Katsuki, and they would not hesitate.
Izuku couldn’t allow that to happen.
After a while, finding Katsuki became easy. Once they started meeting at Izuku’s house, he didn’t have to seek him out anymore. It was safer this way, too. Hunters were nosy, abandoned places drew eyes. His home, on the other hand, was already written off as a paranoid loner’s bunker, which, fair enough. No one bothered him there. It was perfect for keeping Katsuki close to him.
At some point, Katsuki stopped leaving between visits. Not that Izuku had to force him stay. He knew better than to try to chain Katsuki up; one heartbeat and the vampire would break free.
Still, the thought of Katsuki leaving, even though he never had, made Izuku’s hands itch and his chest tighten painfully.
But, Katsuki stayed, always. Not out of fear — he was too strong for that — but because he wanted to. In Izuku’s house, he found something worth returning to. Even the thought of a hunter thinking they could hold him down didn’t offend him.
They had an unspoken understanding: Katsuki could leave at any time, but if he tried, he would find out exactly what Izuku was capable of if he tested the limits.
Even though Katsuki would never leave, sometimes, he would wander playfully near the door, hand against the wood, testing the idea of leaving.
Izuku would look up from whatever he was doing and meet his eyes. Katsuki would look over his shoulder, hold Izuku’s look, like he was waiting for some kind of permission. Izuku never gave it; his stare alone said it all — don’t you dare. Katsuki would grin, satisfied, and move back deeper into the house.
Over time, the novelty wore thin.
Katsuki grew restless. He wasn’t used to staying in one place for so long, especially not after centuries of moving around.
“You ever think about letting me out?” Katsuki had asked one night.
Izuku did not answer right away. He clenched his jaw. Let him out? No, never. Not even for a second. Izuku had crossed the room, cupped Katsuki’s jaw with a tenderness that made Katsuki’s breath hitch.
“I'm keeping you safe,” Izuku whispered.
Katsuki searched his face, frowning. “That’s not what I asked.”
Izuku had just smiled eerily, pressing a kiss to the corner of Katsuki’s mouth.
“I know.”
“It’s been weeks. You act like I’ve never survived on my own. I know how to keep my head down. I’ve kept myself alive for centuries before you even fuckin’ existed.”
Izuku’s eye twitched at the reminder that Katsuki had a life before him. He knew it was irrational, a stupid thing to care about. So, he held himself steady.
“I know, Kacchan. Just not yet. It isn’t safe.”
Izuku did not voice the worst of his thoughts.
He didn’t say how the idea of Katsuki out there — getting caught, or worse, killed — sent his thoughts spiraling into places no decent person should reach.
That if Katsuki was going to die, it had to be because the world finally pried him out of Izuku’s grasp. That if he were to die, it had to be here, because Izuku let him. That if it came to that, it had to be by his hand alone.
The thoughts did not horrify Izuku the way they should’ve.
Katsuki didn’t argue, he let it go. They’d had this conversation enough times for him to know how it would end. Sometimes it ended in arguments, sometimes in bloody scuffles on the floor, and sometimes it turned into something else entirely. Whatever it was, it never, ever ended with Katsuki walking out the door.
Trying to leave wasn’t something Katsuki did anymore. At some point, it had simply stopped feeling possible.
Truthfully, Izuku was never going to let Katsuki leave. Katsuki did not realize just how far Izuku’s mind was gone, how warped and possessive his thoughts had become, but he could feel it all the same. Especially in the way Izuku watched him, never letting him out of his sight, it made Katsuki uneasy, a faint prickle at the back of his neck, though he’d never say a word about it.
At times, Izuku’s devotion frightened him, not enough to make Katsuki leave, but enough to remind him that it carried its own kind of danger.
Izuku understands exactly why his feelings look wrong from the outside. He can name it if he has to. He sees a world that is always reaching and trying to take something precious from him and ruin it. He sees himself as the only thing standing between Katsuki and that fate. A necessary evil. A sanctuary no one else would be willing to become. A keeper.
He is keeping Katsuki safe. Izuku refuses to think of it as captivity. He hates that word. Captivity suggests cruelty, and Izuku does not think of himself as cruel. Katsuki is not chained or locked in a room. He moves freely through the house, drapes himself over the furniture, and complains about the dust collecting on the shelves. He sleeps in Izuku’s bed, warm and solid and alive. Izuku lets him do all of that. The only thing he does not let Katsuki do is leave, and that is for Katsuki’s own good. Izuku knows what waits outside. Wanting what is best for someone cannot be cruelty.
That does not make Izuku kind, either. Kindness is for strangers. Kindness is soft and distant and meant to make you feel better about yourself. What Izuku feels for Katsuki has nothing to do with that. He loves them together, sealed away from the rest of the world. He would burn the town down to keep Katsuki breathing if it ever came to that. He knows exactly what that makes him, and it is not kind.
Izuku thinks of himself as the only one willing to do what needs to be done. He knows he is selfish. He accepts it without flinching.
And if that devotion rots into something that leaves no room for anyone else, Izuku does not resist it. Love is supposed to change you. Love is supposed to ruin the person you were before.
If this is what love has turned him into, then so be it.
At some point, Katsuki started to get hungry.
He had stretched it longer than usual, stubborn about it in the way he was stubborn about everything else. If Katsuki fed once, he could coast for weeks, sometimes longer, and he had been holding out on principle alone. Spite, maybe. Pride, more likely.
But hunger crept up onto vampires the way rot set into wood, slow and quiet until it suddenly was not.
Izuku noticed before Katsuki said a word.
Across the room, a shadow moved. Izuku leaned back into the deep couch, the old leather creaking under him. Katsuki emerged from the deeper darkness of the hallway, a silhouette against the firelight.
Katsuki looked slimmer. Paler, somehow, which should not have been possible. His cheekbones were starting to hollow, his mouth set in a thin, angry line. Katsuki was starving. Izuku could tell. He knew Katsuki’s body better than Katsuki did. He’d made it his life’s work.
Katsuki walked past the couch without looking at him, heading straight for the door.
Izuku did not miss the way his shoulders were tight, or how his steps were too fast. Katsuki knew better than to look at Izuku in this state. If he did, Izuku might not let him reach the handle.
“You’re hungry,” Izuku said mildly.
Katsuki stopped short, hand hovering inches from the door. “I’m going out.”
“No.”
Katsuki turned then, finally, eyes blazing.
“The fuck do you mean, no? You think you can stop me? I’m not your goddamn pet, Deku.”
“Come here,” Izuku said. His voice was soft, but it carried in the room. It wasn’t a request.
Katsuki barked out a laugh that sounded more strained than amused.
“You’re out of your mind.”
Still, Katsuki did not move away from the door.
“I don’t need it from you,” Katsuki went on. “There are other options. I can steal blood bags from the clinic, or find some idiot in an alley who won’t remember a thing—”
“No.” Izuku cut him off, the word final. “You’ll drink from me. Only from me.”
Izuku leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The candlelight caught in his green eyes, making them look like chips of sea glass.
“I’m not doing that,” Katsuki hissed, but he was already moving, drawn to the command in Izuku’s tone like a moth to a flame he despised. “It’s dangerous. You know that.”
Izuku nodded. Of course, he did.
He had studied the venom, the way the fangs deployed and expanded inside flesh, the way the secretion flooded the wound to keep blood flowing and induce paralysis for easier feeding. He knows the pain is excruciating. He knew it tore something open from the inside. He had seen the aftermath of bodies laid out cold and pale.
He wanted it anyway.
“I know exactly what it does.”
“Then why the fuck would you offer?” Katsuki snapped, closing the last of the distance between them.
The firelight caught his face fully now. It lit his ash-blond hair, sharp mouth, eyes bright with hunger and anger both. Katsuki looked most like a monster when he was starving. His monster.
That was why the choice felt so obvious.
Feeding was not something Katsuki should do thoughtlessly. It was not something he should scatter across strangers, leaving pieces of himself behind in their veins. If Katsuki needed blood, then it should come from him. His throat, his pulse, his blood.
The thought of Katsuki feeding from anyone else filled Izuku with a jealousy so overwhelming it felt like losing himself entirely. He imagined Katsuki with someone else in his arms, taking from them what Izuku believed should have been his alone.
Izuku would have killed without hesitation. He would have burned whole towns to keep Katsuki from touching another throat.
He would rather let the world dry up and starve Katsuki before he ever let him belong to someone else.
“Because it’s you,” Izuku said, smiling fondly.
Katsuki shook his head. “You’re unbelievable. You know I could kill you, right? You know how much it hurts. I could lose control.” He let out a humorless huff. “I could drain you dry before I even realized what I was doing.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. You won’t try to kill me,” Izuku said, not because it was true but because he needed it to be. “You never have.”
Katsuki scoffed. “That first night?”
“You could have killed me,” Izuku said. “But you didn’t.”
Because Izuku tamed him. Taught him restraint. Made him safe for Izuku.
Katsuki just stared at him, his expression caught between horror and a kind of helpless, furious awe.
“You’re insane,” he breathed.
“Probably,” Izuku agreed, a small smile reaching his lips. He patted the space on the couch beside him. “Now come here. You’re shaking.”
Katsuki crossed the remaining space with the slow inevitability of a man stepping into deep water, knowing there was no bottom. He didn’t sit beside Izuku. He stood before him, his body tense as he looked down.
Izuku reached up, his hands settling on Katsuki’s narrow hips. He pulled, gently but insistently.
“On my lap.”
A shudder went through Katsuki. “Izuku…”
“Now, Kacchan.”
The command broke the last of Katsuki’s resistance. He let out a shaky breath, and then he was moving, climbing onto the couch, straddling Izuku’s hips. He settled his weight there, his knees sinking into the leather on either side of Izuku’s thighs.
They were chest to chest, face to face. Izuku’s hands slid from his hips to the small of his back, holding him steady, feeling the subtle tremors that wracked his frame.
“Where?” Katsuki asked, his voice low and rough. He wouldn’t look Izuku in the eye.
“The neck is traditional,” Izuku murmured, tilting his head to the side, exposing the long line of his throat. His pulse jumped there, a rapid flutter under the skin, a blatant invitation.
Katsuki’s breath ghosted over his skin. His lips brushed the spot, a whisper of contact.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You will,” Izuku said, his fingers carding through Katsuki’s hair. It was softer than it looked. “And I want you to. I want all of it. Just take what you need.”
“Fuck,” Katsuki choked out, a sound of pure agony.
His hands came up, one fisting in the fabric of Izuku’s shirt at his back, the other splaying across his chest, right over his heart. As if he needed to feel the proof of life while it was still his to touch.
Izuku leaned in closer. He wondered if Katsuki could feel how eager it was, how his heart beat into the touch like it recognized its own ending.
The irony almost made him laugh. Izuku was supposed to be the one holding the stake, not offering his throat, but he had never been good at stopping once he decided something was his.
He grinned grimly. Either Katsuki would stop, or he would not. Those were the only options, and neither one scared Izuku.
If Katsuki lost himself and drained him dry, then Izuku would die knowing he had given Katsuki exactly what he needed, and Katsuki would spend the rest of his long, miserable existence remembering him. Izuku would be his first real loss.
And if Katsuki stopped himself in time, then Izuku had still changed him. He had taught Katsuki restraint. It meant Izuku’s love was enough to tame the beast, enough to soften something the world had sworn was unsalvageable and heartless.
Either way, there was no ending where Izuku could truly lose, so long as Katsuki remembered.
He felt the first press, not of teeth, but of Katsuki’s tongue. A cold, wet stripe laved over the pulse point on his shoulder, and he couldn’t suppress the shiver that followed. Izuku closed his eyes. This is it, he thought.
Katsuki’s mouth pressed a soft kiss to his neck, almost as an apology. A prelude.
Then Katsuki bit down.
The pain was instantaneous. It was a sharp, shocking sting that somehow felt warm and cold all at the same time. Izuku gasped, the sound tearing out of him as his fingers dug into Katsuki’s waist hard enough to bruise.
The fangs pierced his skin effortlessly. Izuku could feel every second of it as they sank deeper, growing longer, searching for the vein. His heart kicked hard against his ribs, so fast he swore he could feel it pounding in his throat. Then, almost instantly, it began to slow as something spread through his blood.
Izuku knew what it was with a gross, intimate knowledge. It was the vampire’s venom — meant to paralyze prey as they were drained. One thing the books never mentioned was how the body stopped feeling pain immediately, giving itself over to death all at once.
His vision blurred as his nerves went slack. He couldn’t see Katsuki clearly anymore. Izuku wondered, distantly, how this felt for him. He hoped Katsuki felt good. It would be so easy for Katsuki to give in, to kill him right there.
The thought made Izuku smile, delirious and pleased. He wanted Katsuki to stop himself in time. Not because he was afraid to die, but because he wanted Katsuki to hold back.
Then came the deep, insistent pull as Katsuki began to drink. Izuku had never felt anything like it. The sensation of his life being drawn out slowly was almost otherworldly. And yet, through it all, there was a wave of dizzying, euphoric bliss, because this was his Kacchan. He had never felt so utterly and terrifyingly connected. Izuku was giving his life to him — it was the ultimate act of devotion.
Through the haze, Izuku could still tell Katsuki was trying to be fast. He was drawing Izuku’s blood in almost frantic pulls, his throat working in quick, gulping swallows. Katsuki was trying to minimize the exposure, to get it over with before he could completely lose himself.
Izuku frowned. The thrill wouldn’t be the same if Katsuki stopped himself halfway before even feeling the pull of his own urges. The true rush was from Katsuki fighting his vampire instincts and still managing to hold back.
“Slow,” Izuku gritted out, his voice strained with pain. “Slow, baby. Slow.”
Katsuki froze. The sucking stopped for a moment, and he pulled back just enough to speak, lips stained with blood and fangs still buried in Izuku’s flesh.
“You’re out of your fucking mind,” Katsuki’s voice was muffled, thick with blood and disbelief. “It’ll hurt more.”
“I want it to hurt,” Izuku breathed, tipping his head further back, offering himself up completely. “I want to feel every second of it. I want to feel you take what you need from me. Properly. Don’t rush. Let me feel you.”
Katsuki looked into his eyes, and Izuku strained his head to meet him. He could see the furrow in Katsuki’s brow, the pleading in his gaze, searching Izuku’s eyes to see if he meant what he was saying.
When he realized Izuku was serious, he let out a sigh.
“You’re insane. A big, stupid idiot, Deku.”
“I know.” Izuku’s hand urged Katsuki’s head back toward the wound. “Do it. For me.”
Hesitantly, Katsuki gave in and started to suck again.
This time it was different — slower, but it burned. Like a constant star against his neck, incandescent and sharp as Katsuki’s fangs sank deep. It was unbearably intimate, how Katsuki drank from him, taking his very essence into himself, and Izuku let him. He’d never felt so alive that it made everything else meaningless.
He was grateful, so grateful, that Katsuki didn’t drink from anyone else. If anyone else got to feel this, Izuku knew he would kill them.
Katsuki took another long, deep draught, a bolt of something that was definitely not pain shot straight to his cock. It stirred, thickening against the confines of his trousers, pressed snugly against the cleft of Katsuki’s ass where he straddled him.
Katsuki felt it and went rigid. The feeding stopped abruptly.
He wrenched his head back, his fangs sliding out of Izuku’s flesh with a wet, sickening pop. Fresh blood, darker now, welled from the twin holes and trickled in hot lines down Izuku’s shoulder and chest, soaking into his shirt.
He stared down at the obvious bulge in Izuku’s pants, then back up at his face. “Are you… are you fucking hard right now?”
Izuku met his gaze and shrugged weakly, a lopsided smile on his face. He didn’t deny it.
“You’re a pervert,” Katsuki breathed, his voice trembling. “A fucking freak. I’m drinking your blood, and you’re getting off on it?”
Izuku chuckled softly, his hand lifted to wipe the blood from Katsuki’s chin, and without breaking eye contact, he flicked his tongue against it, tasting himself on Katsuki.
“Yeah… I am,” he admitted. “I can’t help it.” He rolled his hips, rubbing his erection more firmly against Katsuki. “My body knows what it wants.”
Katsuki scowled, his face scrunching not in disgust, but in genuine astonishment at how much of a freak Izuku was. He honestly had no idea how Izuku had managed to survive like this for so long, let alone become a vampire hunter.
He tried to scramble off Izuku’s lap, but Izuku’s hands on his back held him firm, keeping him in place. “Let me go, you sick—”
Katsuki tried to push back again, but his limbs felt heavy. His eyes fluttered, trying to blink away the haze. It was the blood — Izuku’s blood — making its way through Katsuki's system, satiating his inhuman hunger.
“You’re sick…” he muttered, words slurring. “A sick… fucking freak…” He slumped against Izuku. Izuku’s hands found the small of his back and stayed there, holding him up. “‘m full.”
“Good,” Izuku whispered. His own strength returned as the venom’s immediate effects receded, replaced by a pleasant, floating lightness from the blood loss. “I’ve got you. My good boy. You took what you needed so well.”
Katsuki made a small, incoherent sound against his neck. Izuku knew what it was. After feeding, vampires slip into a dazed state where their hunger is finally quieted. This was when Katsuki went soft and needy, responsive only to touch.
Izuku’s heart swelled with a possessive, worshipful love so intense it hurt. He’d done this. He’d tamed the untamable, not with chains or a cage, but with his blood and his own unhinged devotion.
He shifted slightly, trying to adjust their position to hold Katsuki more comfortably. As he did, his thighs moved under Katsuki’s weight, when he suddenly felt a strange dampness.
Izuku glanced down. It took him a second to register what he was seeing, the dark fabric blooming on Katsuki’s sweatpants pressed close where he straddled Izuku’s lap, marked by a dampness that definitely hadn’t been there before.
His pupils blew wide as he followed the line of Katsuki’s thigh, and oh.
That was… unexpected.
Katsuki was barely even conscious of himself, and still, his body reacted to Izuku like this. Izuku swallowed hard, heart thudding, his thoughts skidding wildly between awe and something dangerously pleased. Of course, Katsuki’s body would answer before his pride ever could.
In everything Izuku had read and studied, not once did it ever mention vampires becoming aroused after feeding. Then again, it wasn’t all that surprising. No one ever bothered to study vampires beyond the same tired conclusions: that they were disgusting, heartless creatures who fed and left their victims dry, or that they were slaves to their hunger, incapable of stopping once they started.
Izuku had just watched both assumptions fall apart.
Katsuki had been starving, far past the point of control, and still, he had stopped himself. For Izuku. He had fought his instincts and chose Izuku over his hunger. It proved Katsuki was more than what the books said. He proved to Izuku that he was worth keeping.
And now, with this new revelation settling into his mind, Izuku found himself curious about what else Katsuki could do.
“Kacchan,” Izuku said, his voice hushed with awe.
Katsuki stirred lazily. “Mmm?”
“Did… did you know this would happen?”
“Know what?” Katsuki mumbled, nuzzling against him, still lost in his hazy, sated space.
Izuku didn’t answer with words. He slid one hand from Katsuki’s back, down over the curve of his ass, and cupped him between the legs, right over the soaked fabric.
Katsuki jolted with a sharp gasp, hips jerking forward into the touch. He immediately tried to pull away, cheeks burning in mortification.
“Wha—? Fuck. Don’t–”
“You’re wet,” Izuku said, his tone one of reverent discovery. He pressed his palm more firmly, feeling the heat, the sheer saturation through the thin cotton. “Did it feel that good, Kacchan? Drinking from me?”
“Shut up,” Katsuki whimpered, but he didn’t move away. If anything, he grinded against Izuku’s hand, and Izuku took that for the answer it was.
Izuku moved his hands to the waistband of Katsuki’s sweats and the loose boxers beneath, hooking his fingers in the fabric.
“Lift up for me, baby.”
Katsuki, pliant and hazy, obeyed. He raised his hips just enough for Izuku to tug his pants down to his thighs. The cool air against his bare skin made a shudder run through Katsuki.
Izuku’s gaze fell, and his mouth went dry.
Katsuki’s pussy was fucking art. There was something surreal about it, meaty and swollen, dark blond dusting over soft, pale skin, laid bare in a way that felt indecent for a vampire to allow. His outer lips were full and puffy, flushed a deep, aching pink, already parted like it was begging for Izuku, like denying him would be the real cruelty.
His cunt glistened, absolutely drenched with his own arousal, a slick sheen coating every fold. The hood of his clit was drawn back, the little nub visibly engorged, a hard, eager pearl peeking out, throbbing with Katsuki’s pulse.
Izuku felt giddy and sick with it, a laugh threatening to claw its way up his throat. Killing vampires used to give him a rush, the violent end, blood sprayed hot and meaningless across the floor, their bodies twitching into nothing.
It had meant something then, felt righteous, but this was better. So much better. Nothing compared to seeing Katsuki’s body react like this, open and betraying him in Izuku’s hands. His thoughts began to rot into each other. He should write this down, cross-reference it, test it again later, figure out if it was the blood or the bond or if it was just Katsuki.
Izuku knew he was smiling too wide now, and he didn’t bother pretending this was normal. If this was what vampires really were, then keeping them, studying them, holding them like this was infinitely better than killing them.
The thought lodged deep in his skull and pounded there, and Izuku let it.
“Fuck, look at you,” Izuku breathed, his own voice sounding foreign to him. He didn’t touch yet. Just stared, drinking in the sight of Katsuki’s exposed, dripping cunt presented to him so openly. “You’re dripping for me. All that slick, just from feeding. You’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you? You take my blood, and then your pussy begs for my cock.”
Katsuki whimpered in response, his head rolling on Izuku’s shoulder, eyes fluttering open. They were glassy, unfocused, but they found Izuku’s.
Izuku bit his lip, then dragged his fingers lightly over the swollen folds, testing pressure and response. Slickness coated his fingertips.
He pressed his fingers into Katsuki’s mouth. “Taste it. Feel what I do to you,” he whispered.
Katsuki’s tongue flicked out lazily, tasting himself. He blinked up at him through wet lashes, whimpering with need. “Izuku…”
“Shh… it’s okay,” Izuku soothed, curling his fingers inside. “I know what you need. I know, baby. I’ll give it to you.”
Izuku kissed him. It was their first kiss since the feeding began, and it was a messy, bloody, perfect thing. Izuku licked into his mouth, tasting iron and that unique, dark flavor that was Katsuki, everything that made him his.
Katsuki responded with a soft, open-mouthed whine, his body melting further into Izuku’s.
Izuku wanted to record it in his mind forever, every little sound that Katsuki made. He leaned down, but didn’t touch with his mouth yet. He blew a soft stream of cool air over the glistening folds.
Katsuki shuddered violently, his back arching off the couch. A fresh trickle of slick oozed out. “Don’t… don’t tease…”
“Tease? Oh, but Kacchan… you make it so hard, I can’t help myself.”
Izuku began with slow, broad strokes of his tongue. He licked up the entire length of Katsuki’s slit, from his perineum to the very top of his clit, gathering the tangy-sweet essence of him. He moaned against Katsuki’s cunt.
He settled into a rhythm, lavishing attention on the outer lips, sucking them gently into his mouth, nibbling with careful teeth, tracing every fold and crease with the flat of his tongue. He wants to see how much Kacchan will give him, how much he can take.
Katsuki was writhing beneath him, hands fisting the cushions, broken, pleading noises falling from his lips.
“Izuku… please…”
“Please what, baby?” Izuku lifted his head, his chin slick with Katsuki’s slick. “Tell me what you need. Use your words.”
“I need… I need you inside,” Katsuki gasped, his eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck, just… fuck me.”
“Soon,” Izuku promised. “But I’m not done with you.”
He shifted, kneeling up between Katsuki’s spread thighs. He hastily unbuttoned his own pants, freeing his aching cock. It sprang out, thick and flushed, already leaking pre-cum at the tip. He gripped himself at the base, giving a slow, firm stroke. “See what you do to me? See how much I want you?”
Katsuki’s eyes opened, drawn to the sight. He licked his lips, a flash of that old hunger returning, but it was different now. “Yeah…”
“Now,” Izuku said, his voice turning to gravel. “I’m going to tease this perfect, wet cunt with my cock. And you’re going to love it.”
He positioned himself, leaning over Katsuki but supporting his weight on one arm. With his other hand, he guided the swollen head of his dick to Katsuki’s entrance. He didn’t push in. He just pressed the broad, slick tip against the soaked, swollen outer lips.
Katsuki cried out, a sharp, ragged sound. His hips bucked, trying to impale himself, but Izuku held firm, pulling back just an inch.
“Ah, ah,” Izuku chided gently. “I said tease.”
He began to move. He dragged the head of his cock slowly, deliberately, up through Katsuki’s slit. The glide was obscenely smooth, aided by the copious wetness. The fat crown bumped over Katsuki’s clit, making him jolt and scream.
“Fuck! Right there, oh god–”
Izuku did it again. Down, then up, painting Katsuki’s pussy with his own pre-cum and Katsuki’s slick, mixing them together. He focused on the clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves in slow, circling passes with the most sensitive part of himself. Each pass drew a higher, more desperate whine from Katsuki’s throat. His pussy was clenching around nothing, lips fluttering, dripping more fluid onto the couch.
“It’s so swollen,” Izuku observed, his own breath coming in harsh pants. “This sweet little clit, begging for attention. Look how much it wants me.” He tapped the head of his cock against it, a soft, rhythmic spanking that had Katsuki sobbing. “Does that feel good, Kacchan? Does it feel good when I use my cock to play with your pretty pussy?”
“Yes! Yes, fuck, it’s so good, just… more…”
Izuku complied, increasing the pressure. He rubbed up and down the length of Katsuki’s slit, spreading the lips wider with each pass, until the flushed, glistening pink interior was fully on display, pulsing and dripping.
He could feel Katsuki teetering on the edge, body tensing, shivering with desperation. Katsuki tried to chase the release, rolling his hips in small, broken, almost pleading motions, and Izuku watched, riveted.
The teasing had gone on for long, agonizing minutes, each one stretching Katsuki’s pleasure like a strained, thin wire. Izuku watched every inch of him struggle — the way his stomach muscles hardened, the arch of his back lifting him high off the couch, head thrown back, exposing the clean line of his throat. Izuku’s eyes burned over him, thoughts crawling with dark fascination.
He imagined tearing Katsuki apart and watching him crumble just to see that flicker of need in his eyes. He could break Katsuki completely, and he would still beg for more.
“I’m… Izuku, I’m gonna–”
“Come,” Izuku said, and he brought the head of his cock down hard, circling it directly over Katsuki’s clit.
Katsuki finally broke, gasping for air, and his orgasm seized out of him in a pained, broken cry.
His pussy spasmed, clenching around nothing, and a fresh gush of wetness spurted out, soaking Izuku’s cock and his own thighs. Izuku milked the orgasm, drawing it out until Katsuki was a trembling, oversensitive mess beneath him, tears streaking from the corners of his eyes.
Katsuki collapsed back onto the couch beside Izuku, wrecked and panting. Izuku leaned over him, kissing the tears away, whispering praise against his skin. “So beautiful. You came just from me teasing you. My prized vampire... perfect, just for me.”
Katsuki could only manage a weak, shuddering sigh. His eyes were dazed, sated in a whole new way. The blood-haze had been replaced by lust.
“Izuku… more… please…”
“More what?” Izuku asked, his own control fraying. His cock was throbbing, pounding in his veins. “Tell me.”
“I-Inside. Need you inside.”
Izuku couldn’t wait any longer. He positioned himself again, this time not teasing. He lined up the broad head of his cock with Katsuki’s aching entrance. Katsuki’s hazy eyes drifted open again, struggling to focus. He looked down, between their bodies, watching as the broad head of Izuku’s cock pressed against his slick opening.
Izuku pushed in, just the head, and they both groaned in unison. It gave way easily, the soaked, hot muscles fluttering his cock. The fit was perfect. Tight, but so, so wet.
“Fuck, oh, f-fuck,” Katsuki moaned, his eyes rolled back in his head.
Izuku held still, savoring the feel of being just barely sheathed in that incredible heat. Those meaty inner lips folded around his cock, clinging to him, coating him in slick as he pushed deeper.
“Oh, Kacchan,” Izuku groaned.
He watched, hypnotized, as his cock disappeared into Katsuki’s body, as that perfect, wet pussy stretched to accommodate him, hugging him obscenely tight. It was a tight, hot sheath, fluttering around his invading length, drenching him in slick, hot juices.
Izuku bottomed out, his hips flush against Katsuki’s ass, his cock buried to the hilt in the dripping, clinging heat. They were both panting. Izuku looked down between them, eyes dark with obsession, watching where their bodies joined.
Katsuki was giving himself over to him completely. So perfect. He would never let Kacchan leave. He wants to keep him like this forever. No one will ever see what he sees.
Katsuki’s eyes fluttered open. He looked utterly possessed. A fresh tear traced a path through the blood smeared near his temple. “Move,” he whispered, his voice wrecked. “Please, Izuku… fuck me.”
And what kind of keeper would Izuku be if he denied this perfect, writhing creature in his hands? An unworthy one — but Katsuki would take anything Izuku offered, bend to it without question, and that only made Izuku hungrier.
He obeyed the pull of his own obsession, wanting to make his vampire shiver, to make him ache under his touch. Izuku drew back almost entirely, savoring the wet, needy resistance, the little trembles and shudders begging him to come back. Then he slid back in with a long, smooth thrust, claiming more of Katsuki.
Izuku fucked up into Katsuki with long, grinding thrusts, angling to reach the deepest parts of him. The couch creaked in a counterpoint to the wet, slapping sounds. Izuku kept one arm locked around Katsuki’s back, holding him close, his other hand tangled in his hair, keeping his face turned toward him.
There was a wet, squelching shlick with every inward thrust, punctuated by Katsuki’s choked moans. Izuku could feel Katsuki’s pussy gushing around his cock, soaking his groin, dripping down onto his own thighs.
“You needed this, didn’t you?” Izuku grunted. “Needed to be filled after you fed.”
“Y-yes,” Katsuki gasped, the word barely audible. His eyes were squeezed shut again, brows furrowing. “‘Zuku, more… fuck, p-please.”
Izuku changed the angle, pulling Katsuki forward so he was arched over him, and hammered up. He began to fuck Katsuki in earnest, hard, driving thrusts that jolted the vampire’s body. The couch creaked in protest beneath them. The new position tore a raw cry from Katsuki, and Izuku’s chest thumped with manic hunger.
He knew he’d found the spot with the way Katsuki trembled like a confession. Izuku fucked into his cunt without mercy, while his lips pressed to Katsuki’s, stealing moans with bruising kisses.
Izuku broke the kiss, a string of spit hanging between them, and pressed their foreheads together. His crazed eyes locked on Katsuki’s.
“This is where you belong,” he ground out, voice low, teeth bared with obsession, even as his thrusts never faltered. “Drinking my blood, taking my cock. Staying with me. You’re never leaving this house, Kacchan. Never.”
“Yours,” Katsuki sobbed, his legs wrapping tighter around Izuku’s waist, heels digging into his back, pulling him deeper. “All yours, fuck, it’s all yours, just go harder.”
Izuku snapped his hips harder, driving in with more force, but he kept the pace. He could feel his own climax building, but he focused on Katsuki. He slid a hand between them, his thumb finding Katsuki’s swollen, hypersensitive clit, and pressed down.
Two circles, rough and curt, and Katsuki was coming again. This time, the orgasm ripped through Katsuki, his pussy clenching around Izuku as if trying to drink him whole.
Katsuki pressed his face into Izuku’s neck, tongue tracing over the fresh bite as he sucked deep, drawing out the venom with a strange, painstaking care. Every pull carried all his love, a desperate effort to purge the poison. Even like this, he still had the presence of mind to keep Izuku alive.
Heat and dizzying lust rolled through Izuku, vision swimming with crimson sparks, every nerve alight with the raw, messy communion of blood and flesh. The world narrowed to the slick press of Katsuki’s body, the trembling pulse under his fingers, and the dark, intoxicating proof that this beautiful, voracious monster belonged entirely to him.
Izuku came inside Katsuki, pulsing with the hot, shuddering release filling him. Katsuki squirmed beneath him, uncomfortable with being so full while still so sensitive. Izuku pressed on, thrusting and grinding deep, making sure every drop sank as far as it could.
Katsuki collapsed on top of Izuku, careful not to crush him completely. Izuku sank back onto the couch, head resting on the armrest, while Katsuki pressed his ear to Izuku’s chest. Izuku was still inside him, softening but still intimately joined.
For a long while, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the crackle of the fire. Katsuki opened his eyes, listening to Izuku’s steady, comforting heartbeat, mentally thanking whatever god he didn’t believe in that Izuku was still alive and breathing.
Izuku turned his head, fingers threading through Katsuki’s blonde hair, holding him close. He pressed a long, soft kiss to the crown of Katsuki's head, lingering there, breathing in the scent of Katsuki’s hair. Izuku let himself imagine keeping him this way forever.
The vampire stirred weakly. His head turned, his lips brushing the skin of Izuku’s neck, near the old, faded puncture scars. His voice, when it came, was a hoarse, ruined whisper, filled with a despair so deep it was almost beautiful.
“I could’ve killed you.”
“Killed me?” Izuku smiled against his hair. “I’d crawl back to you, Kacchan. Even death wouldn’t keep me away from you.”
Katsuki lifted his head despite himself, eyes flicking up to Izuku’s face. He couldn't believe how serious Izuku was, how far he was willing to go for him. His cheeks were burning. For a second, he just stared at him, mouth opening like he had something to say, then thinking better of it.
“…You’re stupid,” he muttered, flustered and breathless.
He immediately ducked back down, burying his face in Izuku’s chest like he could disappear there, the rest of it coming out muffled against his shirt. “So stupid.”
Izuku laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest where Katsuki was pressed. He was definitely a freak, Katsuki thought, but somehow it didn’t bother him; maybe it should have. Katsuki just let out a small grunt, face still burning. Izuku tightened his arms around him, holding him close with no intention of ever letting him go.