#vampire!aizawa

[obsessed-dragon]

🎶 Dance at the Tavern 🎶

I love drawing for the fantasy / vampire AU by me and my best friend Moth. This picture may or may not be an upcoming scene in our fic Scorching Moonlight 👀

[m1sa22aman3]

When there isn’t 20 new fics for me to read after refreshing the tag (I just finished reading everything and have absolutely no patience)

[ayayapap]

Hi, I also have vamp! aizalight if anyone cares

Also matsulight!

[doumadono]

V - THE ABSOLUTE PIECE

Summary: you faced the terrifying reality as the tests clearly confirmed just how unique your blood was. Overwhelmed by the truth, you made the decision to flee, desperate for a moment of solitude to reconsider not only the events of the past few days but the very path your life had just taken. You returned to the hideout where you had once lived, seeking refuge in the crumbling remnants of your past. But little did you know, someone had already been searching for you...

Warnings: vampires, vampire Dabi, vampire Hawks, rebellion leader Aizawa

WCT: circa 1.9k

𖥸 SANGREAL - previous chapter 𖥸 chapter VI 𖥸 SANGREAL - playlist 𖥸 MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The silence in Aizawa’s office was unnatural. It didn’t hum with peace or comfort. It was the kind of quiet that preceded something terrible, something irreversible — a kind silence that waited to be shattered.

Every breath you took felt shallow, edged with unease, your pulse a traitorous, frantic drumbeat in your ears.

The parchment lay between you and Aizawa like a loaded gun, its contents far heavier than the fragile paper could bear.

You stared at it.

The words swam before your eyes, each syllable a cruel puzzle you refused to piece together.

“Your blood is unique,” Aizawa said at last, his voice even, measured, but there was an undertow of something serious.

Something terrifying.

Your fingers twitched, digging into the fabric of your sleeve. “I—” The word withered in your throat before it could form. You tried again. “No.”

Aizawa’s gaze was unwavering. “Yes.”

Your stomach lurched. “That’s not possible.”

“It is.”

You barely breathed. “It’s not possible.” Your words felt like they belonged to someone else. “I’m no one.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them, desperate, a plea wrapped in denial. “I’ve always been nobody. I’m just— just another piece of debris in this world. One more person waiting to be swallowed whole. That’s what we all are now.”

Aizawa exhaled, slow and deliberate. “You were never no one,” he muttered. “And now, you might be the only one who can change things.”

Your stomach twisted. You wanted to deny it, wanted to tear the words apart before they could take root in your mind.

But Aizawa wasn’t finished.

“Your blood fights the virus,” he continued, voice grim. “It not just resists the virus — your blood fights it. The infection that turned people into vampires? It should have touched you by now. It should have started breaking you down. But it hasn’t.” He tapped a finger against the paper on the table. “Your blood is pure. It’s like a fragment of what humanity was before this all started.”

Your heart pounded.

“So what?” you snapped, something bitter, desperate curling in your throat. “That doesn’t change anything. Vampires still rule the world. Humans are still dying.” Your nails dug into your palms. “This won’t save anyone.”

Aizawa’s dark eyes hardened.

“It could,” he said, the quiet weight of his words sinking into the cracks of your disbelief. “If there’s a way to replicate it, to understand its nature — this could be what we need to fight back.”

You clenched your jaw, shoving away the sick, sinking feeling clawing its way into your chest. “What if I don’t want to be part of your cause?”

Aizawa’s gaze didn’t waver. “Then you’re a fool.”

Something inside you snapped.

“I never asked for this,” you hissed. “I never wanted to be anything more than what I am. Do you even hear yourself? You’re putting everything on me like I’m some— some fucking cure.”

The words felt like poison spilling from your lips, but you couldn’t stop them.

“I’ve seen what the world is, Aizawa,” you sighed, voice shaking. “I’ve watched it rot. Humans aren’t going to win. This isn’t some noble fight for survival. It’s the last flickering moments before inevitable extinction.”

A silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

Then — Aizawa sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose like a man who had lived too long, seen too much. “I used to be a hero,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Before the Night of Ash.”

You froze.

His voice was steady as he continued, “I was a professional hero,” he told you, looking at you again. “I dedicated my life to protecting people. To saving them.” His fingers twitched slightly at his sides. “I watched the world crumble. I saw people burn, saw heroes fall. But I didn’t stop.”

Another breath. Another pause.

“And I won’t stop now.”

His voice was steel, cutting through the weight of your denial like a blade.

He straightened, stepping closer, towering over you with that unyielding presence of a man who refused to let the world break him. “I don’t care if you believe in this or not,” he claimed. “But the truth doesn’t care what you believe. Sangreal will come for you. The moment they realize what you are, you’re dead. And oh, they will. I'm absolutely certain they've already heard about the mercy Dabi granted you.”

The words settled like ice along your spine.

“They will hunt you,” Aizawa continued, slow, methodical, as if carving each syllable into the marrow of your bones. “They will rip this entire Dreg apart if it means getting to you.”

Your throat closed.

The reality of it pressed down on you like chains of suffocation.

You didn’t want to be a part of this. You never wanted to be a part of anything. And suddenly, you couldn’t breathe.

The walls felt too close, the ceiling too low, the lantern light too dim, too fragile, like it might be swallowed by the dark at any second.

Your chair scraped against the stone as you stumbled to your feet. “I need— I need air.”

Aizawa didn’t move to stop you.

But as you turned, his voice followed. 

“You might not believe in us,” he murmured. “But the Sangreal will believe in you.”

You left the chamber, leaving Aizawa behind.

But his words clung to you like thick, suffocating mud, seeping into every fiber of your being, just as the mire clutches at fabric when one falls helplessly into a swamp.

You moved like a shadow, slipping through the winding tunnels of the rebellion’s hideout until the air grew colder, the lantern lights faded, and the weight of the underground began to give way to the ashen sky above.

No one noticed you leave. Or so you thought.

The moment Hawks touched down in the safe zone, his golden-black eyes sharp with an unreadable intensity, he knew exactly where to go. He walked with purpose toward Aizawa’s office, his red wings fluttering briefly, sending a soft flurry of ash to the ground as he entered. “She’s gone, hasn’t she?” Hawks’ voice was laced with a quiet, almost bitter certainty. His gaze flickered briefly to Aizawa as he spoke with a piercing look. "You really should be better at keeping track of important people, Eraserhead."

Aizawa’s jaw clenched, his hand instinctively rising to rub the bridge of his nose. The weight of the situation was pressing down on him more than he was willing to admit. “She left after hearing the truth. I’m certain she went to her chamber,” Aizawa replied, his tone tight, his usual composure slipping for just a moment.

Hawks stepped further into the room, his expression hardening. “She was near the entrance earlier,” he admitted, his voice flat. “So I came straight here to let you know.”

Aizawa’s hand dropped to the desk, the tension radiating from his body unmistakable. His breath came out in a sharp exhale as his eyes darted to the door.

Recovery Girl, who had been standing quietly by Aizawa’s side, let out a soft, frustrated sigh. Her voice was gentle but carried an unspoken weight. “She’s scared, Shota,” she murmured, her eyes downcast as she placed a hand on Aizawa’s shoulder.

Aizawa’s fists clenched, his jaw tight enough to crack. His gaze locked on Hawks. "Keigo," he growled, his voice icy. "Find her."

Hawks nodded as he prepared to leave. 

But Aizawa wasn’t done.

His eyes flashed with a cold fury, his sneer cutting through the tension like a knife. "And when she gets back," he continued, his tone dark and full of venom, "I swear to God, I’ll lock her ass in her chamber and keep her there until the end of time."

“Shota…” Recovery Girl started but he silenced her by raising his hand.

Aizawa’s fingers curled into a fist on the edge of the desk, his teeth gritted. “She’s a liability,” he muttered, his words cold and calculated. But even as he said it, a deeper, more gnawing feeling coiled in his stomach — a feeling that only grew more pronounced with every passing second.

Because you weren’t just a liability.

No, you were far more than that.

You were the most important piece in this entire game. And apparently, you had slipped out of the safe zone, heading straight into the unknown.

The world outside the safe zone was a corpse, the remnants of humanity rotting beneath the rule of creatures who no longer needed the sun.

You had nowhere else to go. So you went back to the place you lived in before the accident with low-class vampires.

The ruined flat hadn’t changed. The walls were still crumbling, the furniture still broken, the windows still shattered.

It was exactly how you had left it — a graveyard of broken furniture, shattered glass, and long-dead plants.

You slipped inside, stepping over the wreckage of what used to be a cabinet, ignoring the familiar ache in your chest.

Your barricade was still there. A worn-out sofa, an overturned armchair, pieces of wood you had dragged from the wreckage of other rooms.

You curled up behind it, pressing your back against the cold wall, pulling your knees right under your chin. 

But sleep wouldn’t come.

Your thoughts swirled, your heartbeat thrumming like a war drum against your ribs. You stared at the decrepit wall on the other side of the room.

Everything that had happened in the past few days felt like a fever dream.

A former Sangreal Hunter had saved you.

You were different.

Sangreal would come for you.

Your hands trembled.

Then — a sound pulled you straight out of thoughtfulness.

A shift. A creak.

Something moving on the staircase a floor below.

Your breath hitched, and you froze.

A floorboard creaked.

The footsteps were slow. Deliberate. Closer and closer.

Your stomach twisted, your entire body locking up as pure, primal fear shot through your veins. Your pulse pounded. Your breath came too fast. Your body screamed to run, to hide, to disappear.

Then another sound.

Your hands clasped over your mouth, muffling your breathing. Your heartbeat slammed in your ears, wild, panicked, like an animal caught in a cage. You moved before you could think, crawling under the rotting bed, pressing yourself flat against the cold, dirty floor.

The footsteps reached the door of your hideout.

There was a heartbeat of silence.

And then—

Fire. 

A sudden whoosh of blue flames, searing hot, deadly, engulfing the barricade you had built.

The sofa and armchair disintegrated instantly, turning to blackened ash in the blink of an eye.

You let out a soft whimper, certain that this was the moment of your inevitable end.

Smoke curled upward, licking the ceiling like the tendrils of a waking nightmare.

A figure stepped through the embers, tall, lean, wrapped in shadow and dying embers. Boots crunched against the charred remnants of your last defense.

Then came a voice, low, rough, yet smooth like silk caught on the edge of a blade, and way too familiar. “You’re an idiot if you thought I wouldn’t find you. I could smell your blood from miles away.”

Shattered glass crunched beneath heavy boots as the figure moved — slow, unhurried, like a hunter savoring the final moment before the kill. Then, with the grace of a predator, the person crouched, leaned down, and peered beneath the bed.

There he was.

Dabi.

He was grinning, with a glint in his mesmerizing, turquoise eyes that said, without mercy or question, that he had found exactly what he was looking for.

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[moniniconii]

Male characters practice! 🖤

[whoishotteranimepolls]

"Who's Hotter?" The Anime Alt Men

[fateisfiction]

Well, That Bites ... (Part 2)

Ask and you shall receive.

Vampire!Shouta, (temporary)Werewolf!Hizashi, Human!Reader

Part 2 of ???

Hizashi is bitten by a werewolf and undergoing treatment to reverse the transformation, but in the meantime, Shouta needs a reliable blood source. You're a friend from school and aware of Shouta's condition and volunteer yourself as a temporary solution. It's decided you'll move in with them to make everything easier.

NSFW (Get your Smut here)

Part 1

When Shouta came home from teaching the next night, he caught you swiping on some dating app. You should really be proud of the restraint he showed in not immediately smashing your phone. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end, but it’s different than when he’s hungry. He shifts, his weight resting on the couch cushion behind you causing you to jump. “W-were you hungry?” He is now, but he knows better than to eat when he’s like this. Whatever … this is.

Shouta pulls Hizashi aside when he comes home for a little discussion. You were looking to date? But you’re theirs. Part of their colony, their pack. Weren’t they enough for you? Their behavior changes after that. Hizashi is clingy. All over you when he’s at home, more than usual. You start finding his clothing mixed in with yours when you go to do laundry. Not that you weren’t already picking up more of the housework. After your incident, the three of you agreed that you would take a step back from hero work, at least for now.

Shouta, on the other hand, becomes colder toward you. He stops sleeping in the bed with you, he doesn’t join in Hizashi’s cuddle piles anymore, he keeps his feedings to a minimum until they stop altogether. When you try to talk to him, he shrugs you off, retreating to his bedroom to brood. Even Hizashi is on edge around him. When you make a joke that he must be getting “hangry,” Shouta storms into the room dragging Hizashi away. He barely acknowledges you, snaping a harsh, “I’m fine,” as the door slams shut behind them.

You can hear them arguing in the next room. Hizashi’s fears that by pushing you away, Shouta is damaging whatever relationship the three of you have built over these few months. When Shouta finally admits that he hasn’t fed in nearly a week, Hizashi throws a fit, reminding him how dangerous that is. You stand by the doorway throwing out that you’ve been offering. Of course you had been worried, but you figured he made other arrangements.

Accusations are thrown around. Hizashi lets it slip that Shouta saw you swiping through the dating app. Why were you leaving them? Did you really think it was a good idea to bring someone else into this situation? It dawns on you then what it must have looked like. You assure them that you have no interest in dating right now. All, well most, of your needs are fulfilled. An associate was suspicious that her husband was cheating on her, and she asked you to see if he was on one of the apps. Your friend wasn’t exactly pleased with what you found (he was), but Shouta and Hizashi are put at ease by your explaination.

What was that about only most of your needs were being met? They’ll need to fix that. Go on, tell them what you need. You’re so shy. You’re all friends here. No secrets, right?

You’re already in their bedroom. It doesn’t take much for them to have you backed up against their bed. You swear you catch a flash of Shouta’s red eyes as they stand at the foot of the bed, waiting for an invitation. And invite them you do. Holding out your wrist as you normally would to let Shouta feed. He shakes his head, chest rumbling with a chuckle at the thought of taking you like this.

It’s a sight to behold as you sit there, fearless before them. They stalk closer, hunger in their eyes as they descend upon you. Hizashi’s behind you, lips on your neck as his hand slips just under the hem of your shirt. Shouta’s above you, kneeling between your legs as he grabs a handful of hair tilting your head back, forcing you to look him in the eye. “You have no clue how long I’ve been waiting for this, kitten.”

Sharpened fangs rake a long your neck, not yet piercing the skin. Quickening breaths fill the room with an erratic harmony of whines. Moans. Pleas.

Hizashi's erection digs in against your hip. You're turning to kiss him, and then Shouta, and then Hizashi again. Your shirt rides up exposing more skin for them to grope. Jeans are unbuttoned and belts unbuckled, the sensual slide of a lover’s hands as they ease tight fabric down thighs and over heads.

Minutes pass and the three of you are are enthralled in one another. It's almost as if they're waiting for you to give them permission to move further. Thumbs catch on the lace of your bra, your panties, digging in and kneading your supple skin.

“Please-” the rest of your words are gone before you can finish your sentence. Sharpened nails tearing what little fabric remains, your body bare before their predatory eyes.

Hizashi guides your hand down to his cock, rutting into it as copious amounts of pre fall from the tip, coating your hand as he chases his release. He stuffs his fingers into your open mouth, preventing you from silencing your cries as Shouta takes his place between your thighs.

Shouta's hands settle on your knees, spreading them apart. Your breath hitches as he leans down, a sly grin stretching across his lips as he assures you that you’ll make a lovely feast tonight. You had already forgotten how long it's been since he last fed. His words doing little to reassure you, you begin to squirm, but you're no match for the two of them.

Hizashi's fingers slip from your mouth. The thread of saliva disconnecting to fall on your chin. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” he asks. Those few words reassuring you that you're safe. All you need to do is say the word and they'll stop what they're doing.

You lick your lips, eyes meeting his. “I'm good.”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That's right. You are a good girl.”

You're distracted, barely feeling the pinpricks when Shouta sinks his fangs into the femoral vein running down your thigh. You groan in … pleasure? Mind foggy with the promise of pleasure, clouded by endorphins and the venom seeping into your blood.

When Hizashi's spit-soaked fingers find your entrance, you see stars. The gentle flick of his thumb across your clit has your hips bucking against Shouta’s strong grip keeping you in place. Lifting his head from your thigh, he tsks at Hizashi, reprimanding the blond for making you squirm.

You can't help but be entranced at the sight of your blood coating his chin. Reaching out, you collect the trail as it runs along his neck. There’s a certain intimacy with how he takes your hand in his, kissing your fingertips before his tongue collects the traces of his meal. The reverence with which he lowers his lips to your wrist, kissing the barely noticeable scars from his past meals. The way his now clear eyes study your face, taking in the ecstasy from your other lover’s fingers curling into you.

[blackberreh-art]

Finished a vampire AU erasermight comm for @all-mights-side-hoe ~!

[shallyouobeyme]

Castle

Platonic!Yandere Vampire ErasterMic!Family x Toddler!Reader (GN)

Summary: Upon a hill over a small town stands a castle. It's vampiric inhabitants get a sacrifice every generation, but one year, they find a little child bundled up in a blanket at their door.

! Minors Do Not Interact !

TW: Sacrificing a child (you), mention of mugging, fighting, attacks, murder + torture (not descriptive and not towards reader), vampires, being turned into a vampire, illness, dark content, I do not condone this - this is all just fantasy

There was a custom in a small town lying in the valley under a hill which adorned the horizon along with the great castle standing on top of it unshakable, permanent, unaging - just like its inhabitants. There were legends going through generations of people living in the castle's shadow. According to them, the castle housed four very specific, mythical creatures. A man of shadows who could only be seen in the night and whose sight was said to be linked with an imminent death. A banshee who could act like a siren and lure you in, only to them scream with the voices of all the souls who have lost their lives because of him. An undead boy who could make you see things, hear things, do things, which would shake any living thing to their core. And at the last, a girl pale as a sheet, with hair white as snow - a ghost, said to be one of their former victims (according to some even their first), who was hunting the castle to warn others who'd share her fate and remind the creatures who had caused her death of their rotten soul.

Along with the legends and myths, the custom developed as well - it came from a place of fear and dread, from a time when deaths rid the town of most of its people and the only cause they could discern was that they had attracted the anger of their mythical watchers - and now it was common practice for every generation to chose a sacrifice to bring to the gates of the castle to gratify the rage of it's owners. Usually, it would be one of the elderly who volunteered themselves, knowing that they had not long to live and wanting to see what all the legends were about at least once in their life. Because except for the sacrificial rite no one was allowed to climb the hill to the castle.

By the time the most unusual and determinative sacrifice happened, the medics of the town had realized that the deaths they had in the past blamed on the creatures were caused by natural reasons - most crucial, the plague. But still, the custom stayed, because why would they change the habit that had kept the townspeople safe for all these years? There was just one thing that was different by that time - it had probably been the result of more health and people having fewer children - but for the first time in generations, there were no elderly who were close to dying, all the elderly who were around were still healthy and fit. And so, one family offered to make the ultimate sacrifice, as they had a young child of only a few years of age who they'd be bringing to the gates. The child was old enough to walk and talk, but not old enough to understand what was happening. And furthermore, the child was ill and sickly. They had been born with their ailment and the doctors saw no possibility of betterment, giving them only a few more years of life before the ailment would take them.

And so it was decided for the best all to lose their child in exchange for the happiness of all the other children they would have and that were living around them. On the night of the summer solstice, their parents put the child into warm clothes and carry their sleeping form up the hill. They knew that the least they needed to do was bring them away together and spend their last moments on this earth as a family. When they arrived at the gate, they rolled their child in a blanket and laid her down in front of it, before the father took the mother's hand and used the knocker that would never work from that distance at any other house. The parents gave their child one last kiss and then solemnly made their way back down the hill to their lives.

On the opposite side of the gate were a family at dinner - or at least as similar to dinner as it was possible for this family. They were sitting around a table with chalices before them, filled with dark, red, liquid that some might assume to be wine. It was not. The family had been living in the castle for centuries. And it was not the fathers and mothers of the people living in it now, no, it had been the exact same people as were sitting around the table now, unchanged like the building they were living in. Unlike what the townspeople assumed, the family of vampires had no interest in ending the lives of the people below them, they had long since switched to an animal-based diet. Still, they also had no interest in stopping their little habit of sacrifices, because it kept them unbothered, and kept the people of the town just afraid enough to not dare enter their homes. And since the sacrificial humans were usually already smelling of death, they had no issue putting them out of their misery - giving the old humans the happiness of letting them know what they had been wondering about for their entire lives.

As the family was talking about the latest news and interests that had been going on in their very exclusive, very secretive society of vampiric creatures spread around the entire world, Aizawa looked out of the window and sighed. He wondered about how fast the last 25 years had passed, but stood up and went out to the gate nonetheless. He wondered a little bit about the unusual breathing and heartbeat pattern heard coming from the human. It had been centuries since he had bothered with visiting or listening to other humans so while his ears were as good as ever, he had some difficulties distinguishing between the differences in them just based on their sounds and smells. So he assumed that this human was just weaker than usual.

All this led to all the more of a surprise when he opened the gate and found not an elderly human looking to find their end for the greater good, but instead a little bundled-up child. You - looking slightly younger than their own daughter had been when she was turned by a nefarious vampire looking to extend their clan - looked so weak, so frail, and as Aizawa looked at you, for the first time in centuries he was reminded of his own time as a mortal. Back then he and Yamada had to hide their love, their romance forbidden for multiple reasons. Not only were they both men, no they were also part of opposite sides of a war, though on the nights when they both sneaked away to spend their time embraced without having to worry about the rest of the world, they spent their time dreaming of having a life together, living without fear and most importantly, taking care of a little life of their own. A child. And when they had been turned, that dream had been mostly fulfilled.

Now they were powerful enough to live without fear together and a few decades later they stumbled upon a dying boy - a mugger who had stolen from them earlier, but as they hunted him down to get their stuff back they found him giving away the stolen goods to the children living in the street without a way to make their own way of survival. When he had also thrown himself in the way of a fight that had escalated and an attack meant for Yamada, it had been clear to them they could not leave him to die. And so they turned him and gained their son. And while they loved him as if he was their own - he was in a sense, the bond forged by turning someone almost as strong as the bond of blood mortals had - he had still already been a young adult when they had 'adopted' him.

Their gaining Eri for their family had been similar. She had already been a vampire for years when they had saved her and while she still looked the part of a young child, she had already been mindful and conscious of things a child would never be, she was a teenager or even an adult trapped in the body of a child.

So when Aizawa looked down at you, he saw this dream of theirs, the dream of raising a child of their own, and he saw the possibility of that now happening. When he brought you back in it was safe to say that his idea was taken in with a lot of enthusiasm, Yamada taking you out of Aizawa's arms and cuddling you close to him - so very happy to have a little you like you so close to him. Oh, how adorable you were, how precious - it was like he finally found what he was waiting for all of his immortal life. Eri was over the moon as well, stating that she had always wanted to be a big sister, that she'd do her best to make sure you'd grow up safe and surrounded by love, and that she wouldn't let anything harm you.

Shinsou was the one who stated something that the rest of the family had forgotten to think about through their joy. Someone had sacrificed you to them, had left you to what they thought to be a soon and possibly painful death. Shinsou's eyes were filled with rage, infectious rage and bloodlust that he hadn't felt since he'd been turned first, as he thought about how someone could leave such a little, weak thing as you to your death knowingly. And so, you were left with Yamada who was not quite ready to let go of you yet, and Eri who insisted on you getting a room near hers (even though you'd spent your next years sleeping in your new parent's bed) and to be there when you awoke to keep you calm in your new surrounded.

While they were already planning your new life, Aizawa and Shinsou made their way down that hill for the first time in a long while, with fire and fury in their steps, knowing that they'd leave no one alive - all of the townspeople at fault for letting you be sacrificed in their eyes. They had only had you with them for less than a day, but one look at you cuddling into Aizawa and Yamadas was enough to have them put you into their hearts and they'd bring hell before letting you go again. So no matter if young or old, male or female or in between, sick or healthy, every single mortal in that town paid their due that day, most of all your own parents whom they recognized by their smell and made suffer for as long as they could before they felt like they needed to see you again to make sure you were doing okay and ended your families misery.

It was clear that your life would be very different from now on, you would be coddled and loved, spoiled and protected. You were still so young that you didn't really worry about the fact that there were these strange people calling themselves your daddies and siblings for longer than a month or two, after that, you accepted your new situation. You enjoyed the attention, loved playing with Eri, dressing up with Yamada, taking naps with Aizawa and getting told stories by Shinsou. Your new life was happy and joyful and you didn't even notice how protective and obsessive your new family was. Leaving the castle wasn't an option anymore - which you didn't worry about too much given how big the castle felt to you - and neither was being alone. There was always one of them with you unless you were sleeping, and even then someone was close to you, close enough to race to you when they heard the difference in breathing patterns of you waking up.

Upon multiple protective measures, it was Shinsou who took it into his hands to tell you stories that made you scared of being alone and leaving the safety of your home - it hurt him to see you so scared, but the feeling of having you run into his arms for comfort when you were afraid of a shadow outside of the window, made it all worth it. Only once you started seeing evil in anything outside and started fearing things around you once you were alone did he tone it down a bit, knowing that he would not have to worry about you leaving them for the time being. His parents had claimed that it wasn't necessary since someone was with you at all times, but they didn't intervene when he started so he assumed they were fine with it.

Aizawa and Yamada loved having your young innocent around them, it reminded them that there was still goodness left in the world, but they still decided that they would not turn you until you were old enough to agree to it. They couldn't promise that they'd listen to you even if you didn't agree - already knowing that they could never let you go - but they at least wanted you to have the opportunity to feel like you made the choice on your own.

Of course, there was still your illness. Your family had many connections in the world thanks to their community of vampiric friends so they had access to the top medication and the best doctors and you got all of that. Everything to make sure you were as healthy as possible and relieved of any pain. The only thing that might change the way they had decided your turning would go would be if your condition worsened if there was no chance of healing anymore. Then, turning you would be an immediate reaction. And who knows, maybe them having you being their little toddler for the rest of eternity - never growing and being coddled by them to make sure you stay as innocent as you are now - was the best thing that could happen to you since they had found you at their gate.

N/A: Thank you to @dumpster-dive-reading for the inspiration behind this and thank you all for reading this. If you enjoyed it I'd love to read your thoughts. Tomorrow's entry for Yandere Writetober is going to be 'dagger' and let's just say while I'm not sure yet, I have a very mischievous character in mind for this. See you then ❤���

[puppyguppy]

You think he's come to kill you, to drink and fuck his fill, but no. He's come to claim you. 

That isn't to say he doesn't still fuck you, or devour you; and you're not sure which has you feeling closer to death, closer to damned. You feel spitroasted, between the six - maybe seven inches in one end, and the two or three inches in the other. The skin between your neck and your knees is on fire.

You beg for him -- not to stop, but just to put it out. As if he wasn't the source of the inferno in your veins. Still, he shushes you, soothes you with a kiss full of spit and blood, the touch just as cool in comparison to your spiking fever as the cum he fills you with; oddly refreshing, like an IV drip --

Drip.

Dream. Drop.

Through your sick-sort of sleep, you dream of a villain you'd once heard of, with metal in his mouth. But then the vision twists, and the metal is wrapped around a neck instead. A man made of moonlight and shadow, but with eyes that glow like a streak of sunset. Gold, to red, depending -- they'd been gold when he greeted you, when you let him in, but then red as he kissed you, killed you. You snap awake gasping, choking, not from a lack of air, but from too much of it. Your lungs feel full, expanded to their limits, stiff and gaping as you blink your bedroom back into your brain. Your neck itches, but when you squirm, it's just to realize that you're stuck. Pinned down by a hand in your hair, and a hand on your chest. Your fight and flight kicks in, and you're ready to bite, to scream and run --

He tuts above you.

Aizawa, as they call him. Shouta, as he let you call him. Your curse, his lover, your killer, his claim --

"Move too much and you'll only make it ugly."

You want to ask what. What will you make ugly. But then, through the pounding of your head (but not in your chest), you register a sliver of sunlight streaming in through your curtains. It's the soft, pale periwinkle of sunrise -- and it scalds perfectly across your neck like white, hot lightning. It sears your flesh, now that you're allergic to it; scarring across your throat until he forces you to roll over, like a goddamn rotisserie chicken. You hiss and cry into the pillows until he's finished with you, drawing the curtain closed only once you feel the circumference of your new, permanent collar connect across the nape of your neck. 

Because the bitemark wasn't enough?  Your throat hurts too much to give the question a voice; charred and scarred on the outside, parched on the inside. And yet, there’s something sort of like an answer that fills your head. It forms like TV static, a little sharp and fuzzy, a voice not your own, a laugh not your own. It makes your bones tingle and itch, like they’re stuck on standby, waiting for your brain to tell them what to do. Except, when you try to tell them to shift into a more comfortable position, they don’t. They don’t listen. And anxiety feels weird when not accompanied by a racing heart.

You feel him before you hear him, and then you hear him before you see him, and then when you finally, finally see him, it’s already too late. You know him. He’s made of the very same shadows, the very same moonlight, but there’s something…something softer about him. His eyes burn on you, inside of you, but pleasantly so – unlike the sun you’ll surely miss. The sun that’s surely burning at his back right now, if he’s really, truly the same. Same body language, same bags under his eyes, same strange scarf. A stranger, but already a comfortable guest amidst your stream of consciousness, whether welcome there or not.

He tells you to sleep.

That it’s still too early.

Sleep, you’ll feel better later.

Sleep, and then you’ll eat, you’ll drink, and you’ll be grateful that it’s Aizawa that’s claimed you.

Created you.

[k-nayee]

CHAPTER 10. TAKE OVER

❝To fuck around is human, to find out is divine.❞

Vespertilio M.List

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

recap

Izuku tensed, Tsuyu's breath hitched, and Mineta whimpered—but all three held their ground, shielding Aizawa with trembling determination.

Just as the Nomu closed in—

"You...piece of TRASH!!" 

|

| A blur shot across the Plaza, colliding with the creature and sending it flying.

The impact was so powerful that it crashed into the rocky mountainside of the Landslide Zone. Debris crumbled around as the ground shook from the force.

The battlefield fell silent as all eyes snap towards you.

You ignore them, your blood-red gaze locked on the disoriented lab project as it staggered to its feet.

Confusion briefly contorted Shigaraki's face as he registered your new appearance before fury took over once again.

"Well what are you waiting for?!" he screamed at the Nomu, his voice shrill with anger. "KILL HER!"

The Nomu roared in response, gearing up to attack again. But before it could even make it halfway you met it head-on.

Your fist connected with a sickening crack, sending the creature reeling again. Strike after strike you tore into the Nomu. Every blow resonating with power.

The battlefield seemed to blur around you, the chaos dimming as you focused solely on the beast before you.

Even when its regenerative abilities struggled to keep up you refused to slow down. You didn't stop.

"DO NOT FEAR! FOR I AM..." By the time All Might arrived the Nomu was barely holding its ground.

The Number One Hero paused mid-step, his sharp gaze falling on your transformed figure. "...here?"

White hair whipped around your face and your crimson eyes burned with an intensity that made even him falter—it was a look he hadn't seen in years, one that sent a shiver down his spine.

But as he watched you deliver a crushing blow to the Nomu, that flicker of recognition turned into determination.

"YOUNG AKASHIYA!" his voice boomed with approval. "LET'S FINISH THIS TOGETHER!"

The two of you moved in tandem, you and All Might tag-teaming the Nomu, your combined strength overwhelming the creature.

Blow after blow you fought in perfect sync, wearing it down until it was little more than a stumbling husk.

With a final, devastating punch, you send the Nomu far away from the battlefield.

And as its monstrous form sailed through the air, your eyes lock onto Tomura Shigaraki's. Through the disembodied hands, red vermillion filled with unbridled fury is what you meet.

A cold thought crossed your mind. 'Hmm...I'll fix that for him.'

"YOU—" he began, his voice trembling with venomous rage.

He never finishes the sentence.

You materialize before him in a heartbeat, fingers bypassing the severed limbs to wrap around his neck in a vice-like grip.

There's no triumphant glee in your eyes—only one of bored arrogance.

Time stops.

Both heroes and villains alike freeze.

Their eyes widen at the sight of you—a mere student—holding the ringleader of the League of Villains by the throat.

Seething with humiliation, Shigaraki lungs for your wrist in attempt to regain control of the situation.

His brittle fingers close around your skin; eyes squinting with a eerily grin as he waits for that satisfying crumble, that disintegration, that ultimate proof of his power.

He freezes. 'No...no...nononononononono'

Your skin...

'My quirk is absolute...It destroys...So why...'

Shigaraki's pupils tremble the longer he stares at your rapidly healing skin. It breaks and flake—like ashes scattering to the wind.

And in their place, new skin forms, unmarred and whole as if nothing had happened.

'Why isn't it working?'

His thoughts whirl, a tornado of denial and disbelief, until the horrifying truth crashes into him: he is powerless against you.

"Not so fun when it's happening to you...is it?"

With a gnawing sense of dread, he shakily moves view from your wrist back to your eyes.

Instead of reflecting the light cheerful tone of your voice, they were livid. Bloodshot—filled with a rage and intensity he's never seen, never felt before.

With the hand around his neck, Shigaraki realizes—without a shadow of doubt—that you have the power to crush his windpipe and end him right then and there.

Terrified, he breaks from your gaze and frantically tries to release himself from your iron grip on his throat.

But it was too late.

You caught the glint in his eyes. The flicker of genuine, unfiltered fear within those once malicious filled eyes—fear of you.

And you oh so adore it.

Your grip tightens. Almost till the point of feeling the fragile bones of Shigaraki's neck creak under the pressure.

You can feel his frantic pulse beneath your palm quickening, he's struggling to breath—desperate for oxygen.

His eyes widen in disbelief and terror before frantically removing his hold on you in attempt to free yours on his throat.

Knees buckling from lack air, Shigaraki finally collapse with struggling gasps.

For a brief second you relish in the sight of his kneeling form as the sensation of his once speeding pulse weakens under your grip.

Panic erupts on both sides: the heroes fearing you'll cross a irredeemable line while the villains, confident that you will, begin to close in.

Shigaraki's eyes dart, catching sight of Kurogiri hovering ominously closer; perhaps thinking you're distracted.

But you're far from it.

The corners of your mouth twitch upward in a sadistic grin and you press your nails even deeper into Shigaraki's flesh.

Crescent-shaped indents now become craters; each filled with a small pool of his blood before trickling down.

In a panic Shigaraki's gaze snaps back to you only to see the deadly promise that flashes in your eyes: Any closer, he dies.

Barely able to muster a voice through his constricted airway, Shigaraki uses the last of his rapidly depleting strength and weakly lifts a trembling hand.

"St...stop" Whether it's aimed at you or his underlings is unclear, but it achieves its purpose. Everyone cease.

When he turns back he sees the faintest trace of a smirk on your lips.

A mocking little twist, as if you knew he'd break—that he had no choice but to yield to you. His mind spirals.

'What is this feeling? This...crippling fear? She's...' He locks eyes with you once more, meeting what can only be described as the gaze of a demon, and the thought crystallizes:

'She's a monster.'

As he's paralyzed in a state of fear you began to lean closer to him. Your face nears his, so close that he feels your breath against his skin.

For a fleeting moment it's almost intimate and it sends an uninvited shudder down his spine.

Your lips are millimeters away from his ear, close enough to touch yet staying away, as if even the proximity is a privilege he doesn't deserve.

"I don't care who the hell you are—be it the leader of villains or even the Symbol of Peace himself." you hissed, your voice dripping with venom and conviction." I will destroy 𝑎𝑛𝑦 who brings harm to what is mine."

You pull back, but not before giving him a final warning, your fangs gleaming in the dim light like sharpened knives.

Then, with a flick of your wrist, you release him.

Shigaraki crumbles to the ground with gasps for air, all remaining dignity stripped away.

He looks up at you with hatred burning in his eyes. But there was something else there...something he couldn't mask.

Fear.

He hated it—loathed it. But he couldn't deny it.

He couldn't touch you. His Quirk was powerless against you and he knew it.

Still gasping, his gaze slid over to All Might standing a few paces away.

The sight of the towering hero sent a jolt through him and he remembered the initial plan, the one that had been ruined so utterly by you.

Weakly, he raised a trembling hand and rasped, "Kurogiri!"

The dark mist wasted no time. It surged toward Shigaraki instantly, tendrils of shadowy fog beginning to envelop him.

You didn't care. You had already turned your back on him, your focus now on Izuku.

Making your way to the greenette you helped him to his feet and braced his weight against you.

"Stay still."

But Izuku's eyes were locked on Shigaraki and All Might. The mist had spread rapidly, inching closer and closer to the Symbol of Peace.

Realization hit Izuku like a bolt of lightning.

"All Might!" he shouted in panic as he moved with desperation.

"What are you doing?!" you snapped, holding him firmly in place.

Izuku's panic only grew as the portal opened wider in front of All Might. "H-he's going to—he's going to touch him! Let me go! I can stop him!"

Your grip on him remains firm. "No."

"Please!" his voice cracked as he begged. "I-I have to help him!"

But you remained unmoving as you watch the scene unfold. Your crimson eyes take in the view of Shigaraki's trembling hand as he reached for All Might through the misty portal.

Izuku struggled even harder, his fear for All Might overwhelming him.

"Moka! Please! Let me go!" he cried, tears forming in his eyes. "ALL MIGHT!!"

Shigaraki's hand, jagged nails and all, was nearly upon All Might when the crack of a gunshot split the air.

The villain's hand recoiled, blood spurting from a bullet wound causing him to release a howl of pain.

"They're here!!" Relief filled All Might's voice as he spoke, the blood dribbling out of his mouth the least of his worries.

Shigaraki's hands twitched as his eyes dart toward Kurogiri. "Ahhh...game over. Guess we gotta try again another time Kurogiri," he muttered bitterly.

As the mist continues to consume him, multiple gunshots rang out. Shigaraki yelped as another bullet struck his legs forcing him to stagger.

"Apologies...we're a little late," Nezu chirped.

The mutant principal sat atop Vlad King's shoulder as other Pro Heroes stepped forward, their presence radiating across the battlefield.

Your eyes flicked to the approaching reinforcements, but you didn't release Izuku just yet.

His struggles slowly ceased as the arrival of the heroes brought him some measure of reassurance.

"Iida you made it!" "Yeah go Prez Iida!!"

The sounds of your classmates cheerful shouts brought a smile upon the usual formal student. "PRESIDENT OF CLASS 1-A, TENYA IIDA!! REPORTING FOR DUTY!!"

Keeping his focus on Shigaraki, Snipe fires a few more shots. "Only ne'er-do-wells we got a shot at wranglin' from a distance are..."

It wasn't until he felt a pull in Kurogiri' mist did Shigaraki truly realize it was over.

He had failed. And he needed to retreat.

With a venomous glare decorating his face, the head of League of Villains looked to All Might.

"I may have failed here Symbol of Peace," he spat with sarcasm and rage, his voice trembling with hatred. "But the next time we meet...you're dead."

As he spoke his eyes slid toward you. His gaze lingered, locking with your crimson ones.

The sight of you standing tall, unwavering even after everything, sent a fresh wave of frustration and helpless rage coursing through him.

He looked back and forth between you and All Might, his thoughts spiraling into an internal tantrum. 'No, no, no, no! This wasn't how it was supposed to go!'

The mist swallowed him whole, his words hanging in the air as silence settled over the battlefield.

"Yo Batty bitch!"

Bakugo's sharp voice cut through the haze as he stormed toward you with blazing eyes. "What the hell was that? You've been hiding this strength the whole damn time?!"

You didn't even spare him a glance, brushing past with an air of dismissal.

Instead of answering, you bit into your wrist, the pain barely registering as blood began to spill at the wound.

You extend your wrist to Izuku. "Here. Drink. It'll speed up your healing."

Izuku's face turned an impossible shade of red, his eyes darting nervously between you and the growing audience of classmates watching the exchange.

He frantically waved his hands in front of him. "W-what?! N-no thanks! I'll be fine! Really!"

You raised a brow, unimpressed by his protest. "I can always bite you directly...or force some into your mouth through a kiss." you said, your tone apathetic, as though discussing the weather. "Your choice. I refuse to let my blood bag get broken."

Though he was used to ̶M̶̶o̶̶k̶̶a̶ your remarks, his face somehow burned an even deeper shade. "F-fine! I'll drink it! No need to say that!"

With the class gawking at him, he reluctantly took your wrist.

It was quick and he pulled back immediately, clearly flustered, though you paid his reaction no mind.

Your attention shifted as you sniffed the air.

In the blink of an eye, you appeared and climbed in to the ambulance where Aizawa was loaded on to.

The EMTs paused their movements, staring at you in disbelief as you observed the Pro Hero.

His severe injuries and bloodied form made you pause briefly before turning to one of the workers.

"You. Get me a syringe," your tone is sharp.

The medic blinked, startled by your demand. "Uh...what? Ma'am, I don't think—"

"I said get me a syringe." You repeated. The intensity of your narrowing gaze made him stammer before quickly rushing to retrieve one.

He returned moments later. Taking the syringe from his shaky hands you wasted no time.

You stab your thigh with enough force to puncture muscle without flinching, drawing your own blood with a fluid motion.

Ignoring the horrified gasps, you carefully inspected the syringe, ensuring there were no air bubbles.

Then, stepping toward Aizawa, you grab his limp arm and insert the needle into one of his veins with practiced ease.

"M-ma'am you can't do that!" the EMT protested, his voice rising. "That's highly unhygienic and—"

You cut him off with a fanged snarl.

"C-carry on!" the medic stuttered, stepping back as you pushed the blood into the unconscious man's arm.

Once the syringe was emptied, you stepped back, your expression unreadable.

The effect was gradual. His labored breathing began to even out, the bruises slowly fading as deep gashes became shallow.

The paramedics stared in stunned silence at the rapid improvement of his condition before their eyes.

"He still needs professional care." you said curtly, breaking them out of their trance. "My blood can only do so much."

"Y-yes, ma'am!" they stammered, quickly finishing their preparations on Aizawa for transport.

As you climbed out of the ambulance, you were met with Izuku waiting with a worried expression.

But before either of you could speak the multiple footsteps of your classmates arrived.

"____ is that you?! You look so different!" Uraraka was the first to say something, her face flushed. "N-not that I don't like your original self!"

"Yeah! Her boobs and butt are bigger too!!" Mineta chimed in as drool seeped out the corner of his mouth.

"And when you fought that monster! Did the loss of your Prunus persica play a part in it?" Yaoyorozu asked, her eyes glimmering in fascination.

"Enough," you silence them and any other comment that was about to be said. Instead your gaze shifts to Izuku, who was talking to the EMTs in charge of your teacher.

The moment he finishes with a bowed head of thanks, the greenette joins the group, sparkling eyes filled with admiration direct towards you.

"The medics told me what you did! That was so kind of you to help Aizawa-sensei like that!"

You gave him a dry look. "I only did it because he might be a future blood bag."

The sparkles in his eyes vanished instantly and his shoulders sagged in disappointment of you. "Oh..."

You tilted your head, raising a brow. "The rosary."

Izuku fumbled for a moment, patting himself down frantically. "Uh—I don't...I don't have it!" he began to stammer when Kirishima stepped forward sheepishly.

"Actually...I still have it," Kirishima admitted, pulling the rosary from out his pocket.

Izuku stiffly takes it, avoiding touching his hands with a near-blank smile. "Thanks." he said quietly, his voice strained.

"You're welcome!" Kirishima said brightly, oblivious to the tension radiating off the green-haired boy. "Us two got to stick together. With helping ____ and her blood stuff right?"

The red-head falters for a moment with a confused yet sheepish look. "Or is it Moka? I heard you call her that earlier..." He softly mutters to himself.

Izuku's face morphed into an ugly expression, a mix of irritation and something deeper. "Yay," he said faintly before quickly stepping away from Kirishima and moving toward you.

You raised a brow at the exchange, a mocking smile tugging at your lips. "My my my" you mused with a click of your tongue. "Never thought I'd see the day."

Izuku blinked, his scowl giving way to confusion. "What?"

"You've gotten so territorial," you teased, tilting your head with an amused expression. "Sweet little Izuku has become so jealous. What is it? Don't want to share little ole me?"

Izuku's face burned as he stammered incoherently, trying and failing to deflect. "Th-that's not—I mean—no! I just—"

You stepped closer, cutting him off as your teasing smile fell into something more serious.

Lightly patting his face, you leaned in slightly.

"You're going to have to fix that," you said coldly. "Blood bags are hard to come by. Just my luck so many have come within my vicinity. But don't worry though. You'll still be my favorite...my little Zuki."

Izuku shivered at the childhood nickname, the warmth it usually carried was replaced with a tone that was almost unsettling.

With that, you took the rosary from him, hooking it back to your choker. The moment it clicked into place, your transformation began to reverse.

Buds of peach blossoms appearing, your white hair began to bleed back into its usual [hair color] as your crimson eyes faded back to their original [eye color] shade.

The rosary hanged loosely from your neck as you swayed.

Izuku darted forward, catching you just as your knees gave out. "Got you!"

The smell of fresh peaches surrounds him as he hold you steady in his grasp. Your head lolled against his shoulder, voice barely above a whisper. "Is...is everyone safe? The villains..."

He gives you a soft smile of assurance as he searches for an open ambulance. "You did good ____. Everyone's safe and taken care of, now you need help."

Spotting one nearby, he adjust his grip, maneuvering you in a protective bridal carry and making his way over.

Relief washes over you. "Really? Well...that's good to hea—" Your words cut off, passing out from the exhaustion and falling limp in his arms.

Izuku couldn't help but huff a laugh through his nose.

As he placed you on an open stretcher, he turned to the EMTs. "She'll need some blood to drink when she wakes up." he told them firmly.

Despite exchanging uneasy glances at his request they nod.

Izuku stepped back as they start to work on you before the doors closed and the ambulance prepare to take off.

He watches the vehicle when it began to drive away, its sirens wailing in the distance.

A weary sigh leaves the freckled teen as a mix of relief and exhaustion washes over him. "At least it's all over now..." He mutters to himself.

"DEKU!"

The shout was like a thunderclap, causing Izuku to flinch as Bakugo stomped over, fury etched into every line of his face.

"MIND EXPLAINING TO ME WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED BACK THERE WITH BATTY BITCH?!"

Izuku deflated, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "Or not..."

[crimsondreamprod]

Kinktober 2024, Day 9 and vampire Present Mic is such a messy eater! Of course, it's hard to be neat around a snack like vampire Aizawa !

[doumadono]

IV - THE BUTCHER OF THE DEADLANDS

Summary: Shigaraki and All For One sought answers from the ruthless Overhaul, whose dark experiments and growing influence might threaten Sangreal’s reign, and might hold the key to unraveling the mysteries of the human girl Dabi spared as well. Meanwhile, Hawks, a Sangreal Hunter, suggested a deeper connection between you and Dabi’s potential plans, sparking a new wave of uncertainty within you

Warnings: mentions of blood & experiments, vampires, mentions of vampire Dabi, vampire Shigaraki, vampire AFO, vampire Overhaul, vampire Hawks, Shigaraki despises Overhaul and vice versa

WCT: circa 2.6k

𖥸 SANGREAL - previous chapter 𖥸 chapter V 𖥸 SANGREAL - playlist 𖥸 MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The Deadlands stretched endlessly beyond the shattered ruins of Musutafu, a wasteland of ashen soil and skeletal remains, where the land itself had been scarred beyond repair. The last nuclear blasts had left this place twisted, grotesque, a place where the air was thick with the stench of decay and scorched metal.

The sky, choked by ash, hung low over the ruins, casting everything in an eerie sepia glow. 

Nothing lived here. Nothing human, at least. What was left had been claimed by monsters. And some of those monsters built kingdoms in the dark.

Somewhere within this desolation, carved into the ruins of an abandoned research complex, was a place that Overhaul had carved out his dominion.

The facility was a fortress of steel and suffering, built deep into the husk of an old underground medical research center. The original structure had been swallowed by time, but Overhaul had repurposed it, expanding its depths, reinforcing its walls, and filling its corridors with horrors that should have never existed.

The moment AFO and Shigaraki arrived, the stench of sterilization chemicals, blood, and rotting flesh assaulted their senses.

Tomura’s nose curled. He already wanted to disintegrate this place to the ground. He hated this place. It stank of sterilized, unneeded cruelty, of rotting flesh and antiseptic, of Chisaki’s disgusting attempt at godhood.

The walls were lined with metal pipes, steam hissing through the cracks, condensation pooling beneath flickering overhead lights. The corridors were tight, clinical, but everything here felt wrong. A laboratory built on corpses.

The doors hissed open.

The man waiting for them stood perfectly still, flanked by two masked enforcers, his posture straight, pristine — calculated.

Chisaki Kai. Overhaul.

His golden eyes gleamed with clinical detachment as he stepped forward, his black gloves flexing against the sleeves of his meticulously kept coat. “Welcome,” he said smoothly, though there was no warmth in it. “I wasn’t expecting a personal visit.” His golden eyes flicked toward Shigaraki, lips curling slightly behind his plague mask. “Oh. And you brought your heir.”

Shigaraki’s fingers twitched violently — he already wanted to tear Overhaul’s face off.

Overhaul’s lips twitched slightly, but he ignored him, turning to AFO instead. “To what do I owe the honor, my lord?”

All For One sighed. “Must you always waste time with empty pleasantries, Chisaki?”

Overhaul gave a shallow bow. “Only with those who deserve it.”

Tomura bristled immediately, but All For One raised a hand. Not yet.

They were led inside, deeper into the labyrinthine halls, past observation rooms filled with creatures that barely resembled vampires anymore.

Tomura’s fingers itched to decay the place.

As they moved through the corridors, the creatures imprisoned behind tanks made of glass convulsed, their twisted forms a nightmarish patchwork of flesh — warped, stitched together as if Overhaul had played god with whatever shattered remnants he could salvage. Mutated limbs sprouted where they didn’t belong, some grotesquely fused, others jutting at unnatural angles. Jagged bones pierced through their skin like cruel, organic armor.

No wonder they call him the Butcher of the Deadlands, Tomura thought to himself.

Overhaul walked ahead, hands clasped behind his back. “I take it you’re here for something important.”

“You tell me,” All For One said.

Overhaul paused, turning slightly. His golden eyes were calculating. “I assume this is about the incident in Musutafu.”

Shigaraki clicked his tongue. “Tsk. You mean the mess Dabi left behind?”

Overhaul arched a brow, amused. “A traitor burning some street filth? That’s hardly news.”

Overhaul’s minions pushed a massive iron door open, and Kai shifted aside to let his master and his heir into the chamber.

Tomura stepped through the massive iron doors with utter disdain, heavy boots clicking against the bloodstained floor. All For One, his father, walked beside him.

Overhaul stood at the far end of the chamber, hands clasped behind his back, his golden irises gleaming dully in the dim light.

Shigaraki clicked his tongue, stepping forward with a lazy, slouched stride, his claws dragging over the rusted railing of an abandoned operating table.

“Dabi spared a human female,” All For One stated. “Have you heard of this?”

“Well,” Overhaul mused, “that is interesting.”

Shigaraki rolled his eyes. “Spare us the dramatics.”

Overhaul ignored him. “A former Sangreal Hunter saves a human?” He exhaled, tilting his head. “If it were anyone else, I’d assume he was making a pet out of her, but Dabi?” His voice dipped in something almost thoughtful. “That’s not his style.”

“Do you think she’s of value?” All For One asked. "I had hoped you'd tell me she was one of your little projects — one that somehow defied the odds, slipping through your grasp before you had the chance to tear her apart."

Overhaul exhaled slowly, tilting his head as if considering the possibility. "Sadly, she’s not one of mine," he admitted, his tone laced with a quiet disappointment. "It’s been quite some time since I last had the luxury of a human subject in my laboratory. But I think it would be wise to retrieve her,” Overhaul continued, stepping closer. “If she was spared by Dabi, then there must be a reason. She must be an anomaly,” Overhaul continued, golden eyes gleaming. “And anomalies are meant to be studied.” He straightened, his confidence absolute. “I need that girl. I’ll find out why she was spared.”

Shigaraki didn’t miss the way Overhaul’s fingers flexed slightly, as if anticipation was curling through him like a drug. Tomura bristled. He knew what that meant. Stripped down. Drained. Torn apart. Kai's research didn’t birth miracles — it gave rise to abominations that could one day become a devastating threat to Sangreal.

“This facility has grown,” All For One noted, his voice smooth as silk, yet laced with quiet menace. 

“Indeed,” Kai replied, bowing his head slightly.

“You’re making an army,” Shigaraki muttered, voice low, dark.

“Let’s say I’m preparing for the unexpected future.”

Shigaraki scoffed. “The future?” His fingers twitched. “You mean the one where you stab us all in the back and play king?”

AFO, however, remained neutral. “I do not tolerate insubordination, Kai,” the vampire king reminded.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, my Lord.”

Shigaraki hated him. He hated the calm, collected way Overhaul spoke, as if he wasn’t standing in a mausoleum of his own twisted creations. “Careful,” Shigaraki sneered, voice thick with mockery. “Wouldn’t want you to choke on all that self-importance.”

Kai gave Tomura a brief glance, scoffing under his breath.

AFO was unmoved. “So, what do you propose, Chisaki?”

Overhaul’s voice remained calm. “I’ve been working on a new batch of enhanced hunters. They are stronger, faster, and unshackled by the limitations of lower-class filth.” He gestured to the cages lining the walls. “I will send them into the Dregs. They will retrieve her. Alive.”

Shigaraki exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as he turned his gaze toward AFO. “This is a bad idea,” he stated, his tone edged with frustration. “Dabi shall be our main priority now. He’s unpredictable, and he’s had too much time to get comfortable. He should have been eliminated already.” His crimson eyes cut toward Overhaul, filled with disgust. “Going after the girl first gives him leverage — it gives him time. And if we’ve learned anything, it’s that he thrives when he's backed into a corner.”

“The difference between you and me, Tomura,” he said smoothly, “is that I think strategically. I plan every move, carefully considering the outcome before I act.”

Tomura grinned, sharp and jagged. “The difference between us, Chisaki,” he murmured, stepping closer, “is that I don’t need to play god to be dangerous.”

AFO simply raised a hand, silencing them both. “Do what you must,” he looked at Overhaul, his voice final. “And do not fail me.”

Overhaul bowed his head. “I won’t, my lord.”

Two days passed before the results arrived.

Aizawa sat with Recovery Girl in one of the makeshift med-bays, fingers tapping against the surface of the old desk.

The results lay before them.

The girl’s blood was unlike anything they had ever seen. Quirk-carrying. Pure. Unchanged.

And, most importantly — it resisted the infection.

A cure. Possibly.

The Recovery Girl sighed, setting the document down. “Her blood is unlike anything I’ve seen. It’s resisting the virus.”

Aizawa exhaled, rubbing his temples. “We need to keep her safe.”

“Further testing could lead to a cure.” The Recovery Girl nodded. “If Sangreal finds out…”

Aizawa didn’t need to say what would happen. 

Because if they had figured this out — sooner or later — so would Sangreal.

The rebellion’s safe zone was a hollowed-out metro station, its tunnels stretching deep beneath the ruins, carved into a labyrinth of survival. Makeshift shacks, supply stations, and dimly lit corridors breathed with life, filled with refugees, fighters, and those who had nowhere else to go. The air smelled of damp stone, of rusted metal and burning oil, of too many bodies packed into too small a space.

You wandered the tunnels of the rebellion’s hideout. 

You weren’t supposed to leave the infirmary. But you needed to walk to clear your mind. And you needed answers.

That was when you saw him.

And every instinct screamed at you to run.

The scent reached you first. That faint, unmistakable trace of death. It wasn’t the overwhelming, suffocating stench of low-class vampires — or feral ones who reeked of rotting flesh, dried blood, and decay. No, this was something different. Fainter. Sharper. Cleaner.

But unmistakably, it was a vampire’s scent.

You had learned to recognize it. The knowledge had saved you more than once.

Your body locked up, muscles winding tight, your heartbeat kicking against your ribs. Your gaze snapped to the winged man lounging lazily against a stack of crates.

He was handsome. Too handsome. But not in the way that made people comfortable. His features were sharp, lined with an unnatural, effortless beauty that felt almost designed to be disarming. His golden eyes, half-lidded in amusement, glinted like a predator watching its prey.

But it was the details that gave him away.

The massive red wings shifting lazily behind him. The long, clawed fingers, tapping idly against the hilt of a sword that was one of his large, red feathers. And when he smirked — pristine white fangs, sharp and gleaming, flashed on the people that were passing him by. 

A vampire. Undoubtedly. One of them.

And yet — no one reacted. The rebels passing by didn’t scream, didn’t run, didn’t even flinch. Some even greeted him. One woman tossed him an orange — the most luxurious of all goods, which he caught without looking, flashing her a cocky grin.

Your fingers curled into your sleeves, stomach twisting in confusion.

What the hell was a vampire doing here?

More importantly — why wasn’t anyone afraid?

His golden gaze slid toward you. And he grinned. “Well, well.” His voice was smooth, light, laced with amusement as he raised his tone to make sure you could hear him. “Look who finally decided to crawl out of hiding. You’re the girl Aizawa took care of?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to step forward, even though every instinct begged you to stay the hell away. “You’re a vampire,” you pointed out flatly, not bothering to mask your suspicion as you skipped replying to his question.

He let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Yeah, I am.” He tilted his head slightly, flashing his fangs in a mocking little show. “But don’t worry — I don’t drink human blood. Anymore.”

That didn’t make you feel any better. 

Your fingers clenched at your sides. “You must have been a Hunter. What are you even doing here?”

His grin widened. Too sharp. Too knowing. “Still am,” he corrected lazily. "Let’s just say I’m deeply loyal to Aizawa so I am helping around from time to time, and that’s all you need to know for now.”

You swallowed hard. His name clicked in your head. “You're Hawks.”

The vampire gave a slow, mocking bow. “In the flesh.”

A thousand stories surfaced in your mind.

Sangreal’s fastest, deadliest Hunter. The one who could track anything, anywhere. A shadow with wings, a death with golden eyes, as survivors used to call him.

And now, he was standing in front of you, alive, laughing like this was all some kind of joke.

You had no desire to prolong this conversation — exhaustion weighed heavy on you, and the last thing you wanted was to linger in the presence of a vampire who, under different circumstances, wouldn’t hesitate to sink his teeth into your throat. But he was the only one who might have answers you desperately sought. The only one who could tell you about the vampire who had saved you.

The words slipped past your lips before you could stop them. “What do you know about Dabi?”

The shift in Hawks was immediate.

The amusement in his gaze didn’t fade, but something changed beneath it. A flicker of something deeper. 

There was a long pause. Then, a slow chuckle came.

“I know he’s not who he used to be,” Hawks uttered. “But I don’t think even he knows who he is anymore.”

Your brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

Hawks exhaled, tilting his head as if debating how much he wanted to say. “He was the most dangerous of all Sangreal’s Hunters,” he began, his voice low and steady. “Every order from All For One was carried out swiftly, with no room for hesitation or mercy. He was promising. Whispers among the vampires suggested he could one day take the lead of the Court of Obsidian, overthrowing Kurogiri, who had held the position for years. But then, he started to defy Sangreal’s rules. To question their orders.”

He paused, his gaze sharpening as he studied you. “You heard what he did?” He let the silence hang for a moment, then spoke again, his voice a quiet hiss. “He left Sangreal.”

You shook your head, disbelief tightening around your throat. That was impossible.

“And you need to understand that’s like a death sentence.”

A cold dread slithered through your veins, sinking deep into your bones.

Hawks leaned back, stretching with a casual ease, a yawn escaping his lips as his wings shifted behind him, the feathers rustling faintly. “It happened nearly twenty years ago, before the sky was permanently smothered by clouds after the Night of Ash,” he stated, his voice smooth yet cold. “Sangreal passed the death sentence on him. They wanted to make an example of him, to show the other vampires the price of disloyalty. They executed their plan, tying him down on the rooftop of the highest skyscraper in Tokyo, leaving him there to burn under the sun. And yet,” the winged vampire continued, a sly amusement creeping into his tone, “he’s still alive, somehow. Still out there. Stirring up mayhem whenever it suits him. Thumbing his nose at the Sangreal regime like he’s untouchable.” 

Your breath hitched. “You think he has a plan?”

A slow smirk crossed Takami’s face. “I think he’s waiting.”

“For what?”

Another pause.

"No idea. But I start to think—" Hawks flicked his feather sword into the air, the blade spinning, catching the dim light as it tumbled effortlessly before landing back in his grip, snug and sure. His fingers curled around the hilt with unnerving ease, his smirk lazy, his eyes anything but. "—that you might be exactly what he’s been waiting for all this time, girl."

The weight of his words didn’t just settle— it sank, deep and leaden, pressing against your ribs, squeezing the breath from your lungs.

And for the first time since waking in the rebellion’s safe zone, a familiar, icy grip of fear coiled in your gut — sharp, cold, and undeniable.

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[velvetjester]

Pretty sure my "hear me outs" have a pattern but beside the hair I'm not quite sure of what it is yet...

[softest-epilogue]

my need for a vampire shota fic is so strong, it’s actually wild. gimme some. or go write them & then give them to me 🫶🏼 and I love Occam’s razor but not that. I want one where my guy is down back for drinking blood. I want him actually covered in it. please and thank you.

[fateisfiction]

Well, That Bites ...

Vampire!Shouta, (temporary)Werewolf!Hizashi, Human!Reader

Part 1 of ???

Hizashi is bitten by a werewolf and undergoing treatment to reverse the transformation, but in the meantime, Shouta needs a reliable blood source. You're a friend from school and aware of Shouta's condition and volunteer yourself as a temporary solution. It's decided you'll move in with them to make everything easier.

Eventual smut (but not in this part)

Part 2

Shouta isn't the stereotypical posh Victorian vampire people expect when they find out he's a vampire. Sure, he’s a quiet night owl and fairly reclusive, but the ruffled collars and red velvet-lined coffins just aren't his vibe. He sleeps in a bed. He can absolutely walk in sunlight, he just needs extra SPF protection or else he’ll break out in an allergic reaction. (Not to mention the bright sunlight is absolutely exhausting.) And yes, he does drink blood.

And that's part of the problem. Ever since the incident with that one villain in the park, Hizashi's blood has tasted … bad. And that's where you come in.

A friend of theirs since highschool, you’ve been aware of Shouta's condition for a while. You know from experience that a starving vampire is a danger to the very people you’ve all sworn to protect. So you offer your own neck (or wrist) for Shouta, at least until they can figure out what's going on with Hizashi.

It's only a matter of days until the tests come back revealing that Hizashi has contracted lycanthropy. It's curable, but the treatment is a year-long regimen, and it's expected that it will take even longer for the taste to fully leave his system. The important thing is that it was caught early and he's already receiving treatment.

After some discussion, and a rather complicated trial period, it's decided that you’ll move in with them for the time being. The guest room has been made up and repainted in a color of your choice, your furniture and belongings moved to storage, and you're settling into your new home, getting used to the new routine of living with the boys.

Things are fine the first week or so. You have the run of the house with Hizashi busy juggling his many jobs and Shouta spending most evenings grading papers while you watch TV. It's easy enough to tell when Shouta is getting hungry. He lingers in doorways, staring, and you can feel the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

He hesitates, not wanting to ask, to trouble you for a bite. But he's hungry, and you taste so good. In the beginning he offered to use a butterfly needle and looked horrified when you joked that it wouldn’t do anything for your public image to turn you into a literal walking juice box.

Eventually you settle into a pattern. Whenever you feel his hungry eyes on you, your arm raises almost involuntary offering your wrist to him. You still wince every time his fangs sink in. The sharp sting quickly soothed by the mild numbing effects of his venom.

He often winds up sitting on the couch with you during his feedings. Limbs curled around you protectively while you watch a show or movie together. Letting out a satisfied hum, he’s careful not to waste a drop of your precious blood. He licks away a stray rivulet before placing a kiss on the already healing bite.

The process is draining, in more ways than one. On more than one occasion, he’s had to carry you off to bed afterward, tucking you in and letting you sleep. He always leaves a glass of water and a snack pack of cookies for when you wake up.

Hizashi's first full moon is unpleasant, but he's grateful that he doesn't have to go through it alone. Thankfully the medications prevent any physical transformation, but he gets really clingy. Leading up to the full moon, he goes into full den mother mode. The fridge is overstocked with snacks and drinks. He hovers, constantly checking in on you and Shouta. Piles of blankets and pillows are amassed in designated cuddle areas, each of the bedrooms, his basement studio, and of course the living room.

An entire corner of the living room has become a permanent pillow fort. The cozy space is filled with bean bags and fluffy blankets. He designated the space as his your “nest,” and every night, like clockwork, he herds you and Shouta into the fort just in time for a late night snack. Sprawling his lanky body across the two of you as he enforces mandatory cuddle time, taking care to ply you with snacks and drinks while Shouta snags a bite for himself. You have to hold back a giggle when he starts kicking his leg whenever Shouta runs his fingers through Hizashi's hair.

You’ve taken it upon yourself to wash the blankets weekly, letting in fresh air to air out the house while the boys are busy at work. Hizashi can't help it, but there's a distinctly dog-like smell filling the space now. You can't help but notice he looks sad whenever you ask him to help you put the fort back together once they're all clean.

It's not until Shouta drops a few tactful mentions about how the sweater you're wearing smells like Hizashi as he snuggles into you, or how Hizashi would love to see the two of you like this, all wrapped up in his favorite blanket, that it dawns on you. It's Hizashi's way of marking out his territory while trying to still give you space of your own. When Hizashi's comes home on laundry day the following week to find everything just where he left it, he’s all smiles as he sweeps you up into a big hug, absolutely spoiling you with attention.

Over time, the two of them become increasingly protective of you. For Shouta, there's a level of intimacy that comes with regular feedings. A bond that grows stronger the longer you’re with them, until the idea of you leaving when Hizashi is back to normal fills him with an irrational anger. To Hizashi, you're a part of his pack. You've even started to wear his clothes around the house.

On the rare occasion that the three of you all have a day off together, you find yourself sandwiched between them as they preen over you. Hizashi checking to make sure that Shouta's bites are healing nicely and not leaving any noticeable scarring, and Shouta massaging anywhere he can reach. He subtly takes note of your muscle tone, mentally creating a training plan to keep you in shape since you’ve had to cut back, your body still getting used to these new arrangements.

You have a close call responding to a villain attack one day and when Shouta and Hizashi get the call, they're rushing to the hospital. You wake up to Shouta hunched over, head resting next to yours on the pillow as the machines beeping around you track your vitals. You can tell from the darker-than-usual circles under his eyes that he was worried. Hizashi comes in carrying two paper coffee cups, perking up when he sees your eyes are open. You motion for him to stay quiet, wanting Shou to get some much-needed sleep.

You're discharged from the hospital later that evening with instructions to start taking an iron supplement. Shouta curses under his breath. Your iron levels are fine. He should know. He’s been carefully managing your diet since you moved in, making sure you're getting all the nutrients you need. All the nutrients he needs.

You spend the next week assuring the boys that you're fine. Hizashi's cuddle pile moves from the living room to your bedroom, the entire room turned into a comfortable nest. You noticed that they’ve started sleeping on the floor, almost as if they can't bear to be away from you. Shouta pulls you into his lap while he's grading, propping his chin on your shoulder as he looks over the assignments. When you get a bit restless, he wraps his arms around you, shoving his face into the crook of your neck. The sensation of his cool fangs against the sensitive skin of your neck send a shudder through your body, but you know he won't bite you.

You can't stand seeing them sleep on your floor. The morning brings a symphony of pops and cracks as they stand up, so when you realize they're not going to be giving up this new habit, you ask if they would rather sleep in the bed. When you move to sleep on the floor they're horrified. Where are you going? There's more than enough room for the three of you.

It doesn't take long to get used to the new sleeping arrangements. At first you were worried that you were coming between them, but Shouta assures you that there's nothing to worry about. Compared to him, Hizashi’s almost unnaturally warm, and while that can be an issue in the heat of summer, it also means you’ll never have to worry about the cold, and of course he's a cuddler. They can just set the AC a few degrees cooler to compensate anyway.

As for coming between them, Shouta and Hizashi had a few ideas, but they're gentlemen. They would never force you into anything you weren't comfortable with. Granted, after waking up on more than a few occasions with Hizashi's morning wood pressed firm to your back, only for the two of them to quickly excuse themselves off to their own bedroom, it was pretty clear that your presence wasn't detrimental to their relationship. In fact, judging by the sounds you pretended not to hear coming from the next room, thing were pretty damn great between them.

---

There's a chance I'll rewrite this and it'll become a full fic and if I do, it'll be super slow burn.