Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Good evening. May I have your name . . .” 

The footman falters. His eyes widen. “You wolves never come.”

Kirishima growls. He cracks his knuckles, shoulders rolling back and body still wound tight with leftover adrenaline. “We come when we want to,” he says with no trace of his usual friendliness. His eyes flash gold in warning.

Sero shifts at Katsuki's back, restless with the same battle fervor. Even Kaminari, the least eager for a fight out of the three of them, tenses forward, his tail and ears already out.

“Announce us, vampire,” Katsuki says, voice hard. Silver whispers cruelly in his ear, and the flashes of blades and arrows cutting down his people, his pack, burn cold in his mind. His wolf snarls. Rage rips through him, sharp teeth tearing, its dark maw widening and threatening to swallow him and everything. 

He wants blood. He wants their fucking heads. He wants the hunters dead, dead, dead. He wants those fucking shitty worthless bastards resurrected just so he can eviscerate them again. He wants all of those fuckers to pay .

The dark desire howls through him. It must echo on his face because color drains from the footman’s already pale complexion. 

The footman nods quickly. “O-Of course. Right away, sir.” Stumbling in his haste, he hurries to the butler to give him their names. 

The butler stiffens in similar surprise. Shock flits across his face before his expression smooths out just as quickly into masked indifference. Nevertheless, Katsuki catches the slight narrowing of the man’s eyes, the age-old disdain threatening to curl the man’s upper lip. The bastard wears his arrogance the same way all aristocratic bloodsuckers do: underneath a thin veneer of civility.

Katsuki’s lips twist into a sneer. He deliberately waits. Sero catches his eye and smirks.

“Bakugou Katsuki, Pack Leader of the  —” 

Stepping forward, Sero whispers in the butler’s ear.  The butler’s back goes ramrod straight. He clears his throat. “My apologies. His Highness, Bakugou Katsuki, Wolf King!”

To the butler’s credit, his voice does not waver. His heartbeat does, thumping away like a scampering rabbit. He bows as they pass by.

Cruel satisfaction edges Katsuki’s lips. He slips his hands into his pockets and strides down the winding, ornate staircase into the ballroom. Sero, Kirishima, and Kaminari flank him, following.

There is a lull of silence as everyone’s attention rivets to him. He can see — sense the exact moment they all scent the fresh death and blood on him. 

Human blood. Not wolf blood like anyone would expect after becoming leader of all wolves so soon. No. Hunter blood.

The realization ripples through the ballroom. The rising crescendo of murmurs nearly drowns out the gentle notes of the waltz. 

Katsuki had not bothered to clean up before changing into his vest and suit. He did so on purpose.

For all their airs and graces, vampires ain’t social creatures. They don’t play nice with others. They can’t even fucking play nice with themselves. The bastards may sniff at how often packs brawl with each other — “wolves fighting like the mindless mutts that they are, tsk, tsk” — but they can choke on their own damn hypocrisy. 

Vampire politics are neverending games of chess and ruthless power plays. Prey is in the eye of the beholder, and their bad habit of playing with their food rears up even during their own pissing contests. It is anyone’s guess on whether that kind of mindfucking shit is sadism or masochism. The only other clusterfuck that rivals vampire society is fae court.

So there is only one damn good reason why the vampires would invite everyone to a ball right now when their world teeters on the brink of war with the humans. 

They want to test the waters, see where everyone stands before deciding whether they want to swim with or against the tide.

That’s fucking fine with him. Katsuki made his decision the minute the hunters trespassed onto his land today and spilled his people’s blood. 

His eyes narrow. He is only here to see who will get in his way.

By the look of things, everyone is here: fae, witches, vampires, merfolk, and other shapeshifters. He spots even a dragon curled up against the furthest wall by the balconies, the sheer girth of her glimmering silver scaled body and leathery wings taking up a solid third of the already massive ballroom.

It is rare that an ancient one would come out, so rare that Katsuki pauses long enough to garner a second look. The last known dragon, he heard, went into deep slumber centuries ago after the Great War.

He had not yet been born then, so he has legends and stories, not memories. That war was between the denizens of Musutafu and demons.

This one will be waged against mortals who are no less monsters.

A sea of faces and bodies, both familiar and unfamiliar, surges around him. He sees hands that wring and fingers that clench over beating hearts in fear and dread. Mouths that fall agape in horror. Knowing gazes that take in the black of his vest, recognizing it as an expression of grief rather than style, their faces creasing in sympathy right after. He sees shoulders that slump with resignation. Bodies that flinch away from both him and the truth as he passes by. Faces that show no surprise at all, just a weariness that speaks of years their eternal youth does not betray.  

There are sharp gazes cutting over him too, gauging his strength, calculating his weaknesses, wondering how the youngest pack leader climbed up the ranks and took the crown so soon.

Katsuki’s lips curl back. Well, it's real fucking easy to be king when there is no one sitting on the damn throne for years. The wolves' numbers dwindle with every hunter seeking glory, revenge, or whatever fucking bullshit it is that has those shitheels seeing a mere fucking pup as the bane of humanity's existence. Infighting and border skirmishes only splinter the packs further.

Katsuki did not fucking win. Wolves did not come to him seeking duels, and he sure as fuck did not challenge anyone to one either. No, wolves came looking for shelter, for protection, for solidarity. It is not victory that crowns him. It is loss. It is desperation and rage and sorrow. It is a need for a leader to unite the packs now because they will get hunted otherwise, and wolves ain’t ever supposed to be prey. 

What Katsuki carries is the will of his people to live, and that weighs heavier than any crown of gold and precious gems.

So fuck them. Instead, he notes whose eyes burn with the same anger and resentment blazing inside him.

He notes too the ones who are as cold and expressionless as stone, giving nothing away, suspiciously so.

Familiar petal pink locks and pale yellow horns catch his eye to his right. He turns, switching directions.

Mina moves to meet him as well. Her long, black dress sweeps across the floor in a shadowy veil of darkness. Briar for lace, black thorny vines thread her bodice, snaking up her waist and edging the deep cut of her neckline. A crimson spider lily tucks behind her ear, her only acknowledgment of the ball's red dress code.

It is a sombre change from her usual vivid colors and wild flora. 

"I'm so sorry for your loss," she says, voice soft with sympathy. “I can’t believe —” Her lips press together, expression twisting in bitterness. “No. I can.” Her fingers curl into a fist at her side. The vines on her dress slither, thorns sharpening to daggers’ points. “It’s unforgivable that they would attack one of us, much less our young." 

Katsuki is not surprised that she already knows. The forest has eyes and ears, and news travels from branch to flower like the wind. 

Her voice rises, loud enough for people to overhear. "You have our deepest condolences, children of the Moon."

The corner of his lips quirks up. He does not miss the implication of her last words. The fae have not come to the ball for shits and giggles either. There is power in numbers, plain and fucking simple.

Mina's eyes gleam, the bright yellow of her irises like twin harvest moons against the night black of her sclera. It reminds him sharply of the witching hour. The fae are fickle creatures, their mischief easily shifting from harmless tricks to devastating chaos at the blink of an eye.

She is fucking pissed too, and she is not wearing black for style either.

Her words set off another outburst from the crowd. Katsuki can hear people expressing their outrage at the revelation that pups were killed too, and surprise that the fae are on such friendly terms with the wolves.

He gives a curt nod of acknowledgement. "Thanks. We'll keep you in our thoughts and prayers as well.”

She nods back. "The red iron dust has taken several of my kin," she says evenly, answering Katsuki’s unspoken question. "How very clever of the humans." A manic glint enters her eyes. Her lips curve in a terrible, dark smile. "Well, we have our own tricks too."

Katsuki smirks. There are blood debts owed to both of them. 

People reap what they sow.

Mina tosses her head back, and the darkness flits easily from her features like the passing of a shadow. Stepping to Kirishima, she twirls. Her dragonfly wings flutter behind her, glittering iridescently. "You’re supposed to ask me for a dance, you know," she teases. "I have suitors waiting."

"What suitors?" Kirishima blurts out, wide-eyed and bewildered. 

Katsuki snorts. Sero and Kaminari snicker, their faces breaking in the first grins of the night. 

"Why? You going to throw down your gauntlet for her?" Sero taunts, bumping Kirishima's shoulder. "Declare your love in a manly battle to the death?"

Kaminari grins widely. "Didn't know you had a jealous streak, man. Or is this foreplay for you two?" He waggles his eyebrows. His shit-eating grin spreads from ear to ear. "By the Moon, how scandalous. How indecent. Why, I'd never. In my time, we wrote each other love letters every other century and pined endlessly from sunrise to sunset."

"And then you waxed poetry between the sheets in the bedroom," Katsuki deadpans. Kaminari ain't even close to being an elder, and he is eons even further from being a blushing virgin. "If we're talkin' about scandals, how about the time you had twin witches trying to hex you, lover boy?"

"How was I supposed to know? They look exactly the same!"

"That's because you got no brain and eyes!"

"Hey!"

"Will you fight for me?" Mina coos, batting her eyelashes at Kirishima. 

Kirishima reddens. "If I have to," he says, fidgeting. His eyes dart to her and away.

Mina's already pink skin blushes a rosier hue as if to match. She smiles, looking pleased and flattered.

Kaminari and Sero whistle, and even Katsuki has to crack a grin. It’s fucking ridiculous. These two idiots have courted for many moons now, and Kirishima is still so damn easy. He plays into Mina's hands like a lost sheep to a wolf's den.

"You guys leave brotherhood on the battlefield," Kirishima complains. He shoves a still snickering Sero off him. "You can’t abandon me like this."

Sero smirks. "What? You want us to prove our everlasting friendship with the blood of your mate's suitors?" He sniffs in feigned distaste. "How very last century of you."

"I mean, not to kink shame anyone, if this what gets you two hot," Kaminari says. He grins at Kirishima’s spluttering protests. "But where exactly in the sacred code of brotherhood does it say that I need to help a brother out with his depraved acts of public indecency?" 

Katsuki pauses. He scowls. "You should be the last person saying that."

He remembers very well — too fucking well when said twin sister witches came barging into their territory, hurling curses left and right, and screamed for Kaminari to show his cowardly ass. 

Kaminari came very close to dying that day, both by the witches' and Katsuki’s hands. It was the shittiest peace talk that Katsuki ever had the displeasure of negotiating — and it was definitely not to save the idiot. No, fuck Kaminari. Katsuki likes his dick. He likes the way it is, and he likes having one. Both of which looked like they would change in the very near future with the way those witches had murder in their eyes, and a magic circle eclipsed the entire damn settlement. His eye twitches just at the memory. 

Thousand year feuds have fucking nothing on the grudges Kaminari’s manwhoring brings. Not once in the entire bloody fucking history of Musutafu did a pack, clan, court, or coven ever face having all of their dicks hexed as collateral damage. Only Katsuki and his group of idiots gets that besmirched honor.

“Shh. We’re not talking about me right now, man,” Kaminari says, hushing him. Grabbing his arm, he ducks behind Katsuki and looks furtively around. “And uh, keep your voice down. Just um, for safety.”

Katsuki glares. “I fucking swear if you fucked someone you shouldn’t have again —”

“I didn’t!”

Kirishima laughs, shaking his head. He turns to Mina and dips into a formal bow. Eyes crinkling with humor, he kisses her hand. "May I have this dance?"

Mina grins back. She curtsies. “You may.”

The next waltz begins right on cue, and they whisk off into the crowd of dancing couples.

“Oh, hey! There’s Sato!” Sero waves to a spiky, dark-haired giant by the table balancing a precarious stack of assorted sweets and pastries. “I’m going to catch up with him and see what the giants think of all of this. See you guys later!”

Katsuki grunts in answer.

“I’m um, also going to collect information,” Kaminari says, ears flicking. His fingers fidget, fixing his collar. Katsuki follows his distracted gaze to a purple-haired werecat leaning against a wall with heavy half-lidded eyes and trouble tattooed all over him. 

“You mean scandals,” Katsuki retorts. He points to his eyes and stabs his fingers back towards Kaminari. “I’m watching you, lover boy. Don’t do shit that’ll bite you in the ass.”

“Right.” Kaminari gives a solemn nod. “Biting is for the bedroom.”

“You —!”

Kaminari sticks his tongue out. Dodging Katsuki’s swipe, he snickers and makes his way to the werecat.

Katsuki grumbles under his breath. That idiot never fucking learns. 

There is no real irritation in him though. After today's shitshow, they all could use a distraction. 

He sits down at the nearest free table. Without prompting, a footman strides over and pours him a glass of wine. "Please tell me if you need anything, Your Highness.” He bows. His black tailcoat flutters, the only ripple of movement; the rest of him is all starched stiffness and precise decorum. The vampire waits, gaze expectant and assessing.

It reminds Katsuki uncannily of a crow perched on the fence, statue-still and watching with beady eyes for anything of interest.

"I'm fine," he growls, rankled already by the special attention. No doubt, his newly elevated status is why. 

“Very well, Your Highness.” The footman dips into another elegant bow and takes his leave. The properness of it all makes Katsuki irrationally want to snap his jaws and bare his teeth.

The tittering nearby and glances flicking Katsuki’s way only raises his hackles further. He can read their intent as plain as day. All of these annoying assholes will kiss ass to either receive his favor or to glean any useful information from him.

Irritation prickles underneath his skin. Fuck, this whole game of charades is so damn tiring. The vampires should have just called for a meeting between the leaders of Musutafu instead of wasting time with hosting a ball. 

Katsuki scowls. He leans back against his chair, crossing a foot on his knee. Lifting the glass of wine to his lips, he looks out.

The vast ballroom gleams in icy marbles and stone blues. Diamond chandeliers glitter overhead from the dark vaulted ceiling, cold and bright like stars. Dark reds drape the arched windows and tables. Following the ball’s dress code, everyone dresses in shades of red, the colors bleeding warm and vivid against the cool tones of the decor.

Katsuki idly twirls the stem of his glass. The blood red wine swirls against the gleaming curve of the crystal goblet, a perfect mirror of the guests in the ballroom. There are probably one or two macabre metaphors here about prey and hunters and another shitty five about gourmet eaters and fine dining. Bloodsuckers are egotistical bastards like that. They practically have an eternal hard-on for power trips and pretentious, flowery shit.

Katsuki does not need interior decor or elaborate schemes to tell someone to get fucked. He only needs a damn finger.

The faint scent of sea salt and fragrant flora wafts up before a familiar voice rings out: “You sure have a flair for dramatic entrances. Am I going to see heads on pikes next?”

Jirou steps forward. She cocks an eyebrow. Like Mina, she wears black, her dress cutting shorter in the front and long in the back, the delicate tulle fluttering softly. A glossy red silk stole drapes over her bare shoulders, rippling the same lavender tint in the bright candlelight as her ear fins and the fish scales freckling her skin. Without warning, she trips.

Katsuki moves, half-out of his seat, when creamy crimson velvet slinks across his vision, and a pale arm curves around Jirou’s waist. “Kyouka!” A young woman with long black hair steadies her. “Are you okay?”

Vampire. Pureblood too, judging by the way the other vampires parted automatically for her. Katsuki can already see a maid and a footman out of the corner of his eye, standing at attention and ready to step in if needed.

“I hate shoes,” Jirou mutters. She tests her weight, pressing down on one heel first, before she takes another step. Still fretting, the vampire links their arms together and guides Jirou to the table. “Legs are so weird,” Jirou complains. “I don’t know how you all walk. It’s clumsy and slow .”

Katsuki snorts. “You ain’t fit for land, Fin Ears.” He pulls out chairs for them. A maid sidesteps in to pour Jirou a glass of water and the vampire a glass of wine and pivots away just as discreetly. “Tell ‘em to put a pond somewhere and get one of those magic nerds to open a portal over it. The vamps got money.”

Jirou sits down and rolls her eyes. 

Her vampire friend perks up in contrast. “That’s a brilliant idea!” She claps her hands. Katsuki raises his eyebrows. Not noticing, she spins around to beckon a servant. “Let me go find someone. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable all night, Kyouka.”

A strange scent catches his nose. Katsuki lifts his head and instinctively sniffs the air. It is faint, very faint, barely there even, but it smells . . .  nice. Real nice. He can’t pinpoint it though. Searching, he turns his head. 

“Don’t listen to him, Momo,” Jirou says quickly, tugging her back. “I’m fine. I’ll get used to it. Practice makes perfect, right? And besides . . . ” She looks away. Her cheeks redden. “I want to dance with you.”

Onyx eyes widen before pale cheeks flush with color. “Ah. Y-Yes, that would be easier.” The vampire girl clears her throat. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “I . . . I want to dance with you too — Bakugou-san?”

Katsuki furrows his brow. Huh. It comes from her, but it is too muted to be her natural scent. No, it is more like faded perfume or a trace from someone else’s touch. It — A cool hand shoves his cheek away from the slender throat that he just now registers he has been tilting his head towards and sniffing.

“Oi,” Jirou says flatly, “you’re too close, wolf.” 

Embarrassment rakes through him, unfamiliar and scalding. He fights it back and bites out, “It ain’t my fault. She just smells —” Really fucking good. Katsuki’s jaw snaps shut, locking back the words in time. Jirou’s stare flattens even further, and her vampire friend looks between them in increasing bewilderment. “Weird,” he grits out. “She smells fucking weird.”

Black Hair blinks. Offense flashes across Jirou’s face. She crosses her arms and gives him a long, judgemental look that makes Katsuki immediately bristle.

“I ain’t stealing your lover, idiot!”

“We’re not — I never said —!” Flushing, Jirou bunches her shoulders up and wraps her silk stole tighter around herself.

Cheeks equally red, Black Hair fidgets, hands smoothing out her dress. She clears her throat again. “I am wearing perfume,” she offers. She pauses and frowns. “Are you allergic to it?”

“No,” Katsuki says and refuses to elaborate. That scent still lingers in his senses maddeningly. The desire to chase after it, to hunt burns like an instinct. He shifts in his seat, suddenly restless.

“I see.” She gives him a curious look, but she does not press for an explanation. “Oh!” She straightens up in her seat and presses a hand to her mouth in dismay. “Excuse my rudeness, I forgot to introduce myself.” She inclines her head. “I am Yaoyorozu Momo, lady and heir of the Yaoyorozu family.”

“Bakugou Katsuki,” he answers gruffly. 

“I . . . would offer you my congratulations,” she starts slowly, glancing up at him. “But it seems more appropriate to offer you my condolences instead. I am sorry for your loss.”

She looks like she really means it, shit, which is fucking terrible because Katsuki feels even more like an asshole right now. He rubs the back of his neck and gives a short nod.

“So we’re going to war, right?” Jirou says pointblank, cleaving straight through the awkwardness. 

Yaoyorozu startles, but Katsuki relaxes back in his seat. He has always liked Jirou’s bluntness. She hates bullshit as much as he does. “That what you merfolk decided?”

“Several of our sisters and brothers have gone missing.” Her eyes darken to the grey of storm clouds. The wine in his glass ripples. “You want to take a wild guess on who has been fishing" — Jirou’s voice ices over, the chime of her words echoing clear and sharp in his head like bells — "in our waters?"

"The same fuckers who invaded my land this morning,” he growls. Rage flares again in his gut, tinging his vision red.

Yaoyorozu reaches out and strokes Jirou’s hand. Emotions churn in Jirou’s heavy gaze before she laces their fingers together and takes a steadying breath. The maelstrom passes from her features, the ripple of the liquids in their goblets calming. "Anyway," she continues, taking a sip of her water. The slant of her lips turns wry. "Expect rough seas ahead."

Ships will sink for the foreseeable future, she means. Katsuki has seen merfolk hunting once before. They may have fish tails and scales, but Katsuki recognizes more than just a little wolf in them. Their pretty faces hide their ruthlessness. They use their speed and stealth to their advantage, lurking in the waters and placing themselves in strategic positions. Sailors never know that they are surrounded until it is too late, and by then, all they can hear is a siren's song beckoning them down into the bottomless depths of the sea and straight into the merfolk's deadly embrace.

Katsumi smirks. Good. So that takes care of the sea. The ship blockade is a nice bonus too. Resources are always critical in a fight. Cutting off supply routes is the same as having a hand choking the hunters' throats.

He lifts an eyebrow at Yaoyorozu. "And the vamps?"

"I am not at liberty to say," Yaoyorozu returns steadily. She meets his gaze straight on, but her face is a perfect mask of polite neutrality. 

You'll know when we let you know, he hears. Katsuki scoffs. Figures, bloodsuckers never say what’s on their damn minds. They take forever to say what only needs ten fucking words. Even then, nothing useful or meaningful comes out of their mouths.

Jirou shoots him a warning look.

Yaoyorozu’s gaze slides from him to Jirou and then back. "The council is divided," Yaoyorozu concedes. She does not elaborate any further. 

Katsuki sets his jaw. Divided means some of them want to fight, some of them do not, and some of them waver somewhere in between. It means the vampires are taking their sweet time sitting on their asses and debating the shit out of an issue that really has only one viable option.

He is about to let out a harsh retort when he catches Yaoyorozu’s fingers squeezing Jirou's hand again. Her gaze steels over, a bladed determination sharpening her features.

Huh. 

His eyes narrow. The council may still be deadlocked, but Yaoyorozu sure looks like she made her decision already. 

He suddenly smells the cold metallic tang of the netherworld, the damp chill of misty graveyards. An eerie green glow flickers from his right. Katsuki knows who it is without having to turn.

“Deku.”

“Kacchan.” 

Nostalgia hits him hard at the exchange of old childhood nicknames. Midoriya phases through the corner of the table before his ghostly form solidifies somewhat, flickering translucent around the edges. His bright green eyes instantly find Katsuki’s. Midoriya opens his mouth before he stops. He frowns, concern heavy in the dip of his brow.

Midoriya looks the same as ever, but it is not the eternal youth of a supernatural lineage. It is the timelessness of death. Memories weave through Katsuki’s head, emotions knotting as gnarled as fate’s threads that should not have snapped so soon. 

Even so, the past is what it is. Without it, both he and Midoriya would not be the people they are now. Hell, they would not be friends either. The bittersweetness ebbs away, the fleeting ache from a scar long past healed.

“It’s a terrible tragedy,” Midoriya says. His face creases in sympathy, his eyes earnest and sincere as ever. “How are you holding up, Kacchan?”

“I’m fucking pissed,” Katsuki answers because he is. He really fucking is, and there is no point in hiding it.

Midoriya nods, unbothered by his bluntness. There is no need for further words or questions, and that wordless understanding between them is something their younger selves never could have had either. They are too damn different and alike in equal measure. Accepting that was impossible for Katsuki back then. 

Midoriya pulls the chair out.

Uraraka slides into it. “Hello,” she says, voice hoarse. Her eyes are dark with sleepless nights. Unspoken sorrow etches itself into the gauntness of her features and the heavy slump of her shoulders. 

Yaoyorozu beckons a butler over to pour a glass of water for her. Uraraka dips her head in thanks. The black lace witch hat tilts, its wide brim shadowing her features even further. Sheer black lace sleeves billow as she reaches for the crystal goblet. The silver of her necklace gleams, and a single red pearl nestles in the hollow of her throat like an ominous droplet of blood.

Midoriya’s gaze lingers on her. His fingers twitch on the back of her chair before he lets go and takes his seat next to her.

Katsuki’s jaw clenches. Across from him, Jirou’s face tightens similarly. 

The humans have started their witch hunts again, he hears. Every day, more and more pyres burn. Man, woman, child. It does not fucking matter who in those bastards’ eyes. They interrogate anyone with even the slightest suspicion of using magic.

Midoriya’s gaze flicks back to him. His face twitches, hesitance staying his tongue once more.

“Just fucking spit it out, Deku.” Anger snarls within him, raking its claws, and viciousness bleeds red-hot. He is tired. He is so fucking tired of losing like this again. The hollowness in Uraraka’s eyes reminds him of the mother who gripped his shirt, silent tears streaming down her face, and pleaded for him to save her pup, already cold and lifeless on the ground, his small body riddled mercilessly by silver-tipped arrows.

Katsuki could not do anything. The words he murmured tasted like ash on his tongue, and the arms he wrapped around her trembling figure were not able to anchor her in her grief. He was crowned king today, and all he had were funerals for his coronation.

His fingers tighten around the stem of the goblet. The crystal glass trembles dangerously.

Midoriya sighs. His eyes slide shut briefly before he meets Katsuki’s challenging stare. “Have you made your decision?”

His voice is heavy with resignation. They both already know Katsuki’s answer.

Katsuki knows too what Midoriya wants to say. He bristles. The mean streak in him threatens to rear its head, but he has come a long way from the pup who mistook strength as sheer might and loathed weakness in anything and anyone. He ain’t about to step back now.

“The wolves are going on the hunt,” he answers deliberately louder, voice hard-edged and sharp. The declaration rings like steel in the air. Murmurs filter through the ballroom. “That’s our decision.”

“And who will you be hunting? The hunters?” Midoriya’s gaze is equally unwavering. “Or all of the humans?”

“The shitty humans” — Katsuki can’t help but sneer — “are the ones who make us fucking monsters in their nursery rhymes and bedtime stories. Hunters don’t outnumber us, Deku, but how many fucking souls have you helped cross over to the other side lately? How many of them are our people? Huh?”

Midoriya’s expression crumples. “Too many,” he whispers. His eyes squeeze shut at the memory. When he opens them, he looks worn well beyond the eighteen summers that he looks.

“I thought so,” Katsuki growls. Resentment and anger smolder, the unwanted reminders stoking the dark fire in him. He ain’t thrilled to go to war. No one with half a fucking brain would be. There is nothing fucking glorious over having to fight to the death to survive, but if it’s hunt or be hunted, then he sure as fuck ain’t waiting for everyone around him to be slaughtered. 

He scowls. “We’re going after the hunters,” Katsuki forces out, aggravated that he feels the need to justify the decision at all. The only way he sees out of this shitty clusterfuck is to make an example out of the hunters and force the human world to surrender. He does not share the same optimism that Midoriya has in the good in people. He never has. People are fucking selfish through and through, demi-humans and humans alike.

Monsters live underneath all of their skins. It is people’s fucking choices that keep them at bay or unleash them.

Midoriya’s forehead creases. Emotions flit across his face too fast for Katsuki to make sense of, but he does not look happy. He looks conflicted.

“They fear us,” Uraraka says thinly. 

Everyone looks up at her. 

“They fear us,” she repeats. The brim of her hat veils her expression, but her fingers fist the red tablecloth, white-knuckled and trembling. “And people hate what they fear.” The silverware quivers, threatening to float up. “And then they pass that down to their children and their grandchildren.” Her voice rises, warbling. “So it repeats! On and on and on and on it —!”

Midoriya grasps her hand. “You aren’t alone,” he says, eyes blazing with familiar resolve. His grip tightens. “You aren’t. You don’t have to face it all by yourself.”

Jirou and Yaoyorozu murmur in assent. 

Uraraka lets out a shaky breath. “Sorry.” She squeezes Midoriya’s hand back before she lifts her head. Color faintly tinges her cheeks, an echo of her usual expression returning. She gives a small smile. “It’s . . . it’s been a really long week. All the coven leaders have decided. Every witch will leave the human kingdoms and villages.”

Katsuki raises his eyebrows. Every witch? So the witches are cutting off all ties to the human world. His eyes narrow. That means even the witches think coexistence and peace are a lost cause. 

Well, there really ain’t a whole lot of options left. Talking does not get you fucking anywhere without anyone willing to lend a damn ear. Actions, on the other hand, have always spoken louder than words.

He takes a long draught of the wine. War, it fucking is then.

Jirou’s eyes widen. “Everyone? You’re all leaving?”

“Where will you go?” Yaoyorozu asks at the same time. She beckons a maid to bring over tea instead and pours Uraraka a cup herself. The soothing scent of chamomile wafts up.

Jirou has a good eye for people, Katsuki thinks.

“It’s not safe for us.” Uraraka murmurs her thanks as she accepts the cup. Blowing across the rim, she takes a careful sip. “The location is a secret until we settle down.” She gives a sheepish smile. “We’re just being careful.”

“And with good reason,” a new voice says. 

The back of Katsuki’s neck prickles, and the tingle snaps across his skin like static. That maddening scent surges along with the copper tang of blood. Half-rising out of his seat, he turns.

Dark pinstripes stretch up long legs, and a matching vest clinches a trim waist. Not breaking his stride, the newcomer drags two unconscious — or dead, Katsuki can’t fucking tell — bodies behind him by the collar. Snow-white and autumn red locks gleam, burning nearly incandescently in the candlelight. 

The music stops. The ballroom falls dead silent. Dozens of heads turn their way.

“We have spies,” the newcomer — no, vampire informs. Katsuki catches the shadowed line of his profile as he turns. There is a curious old burn scar over the left side of his face that should not be possible with how effective vampiric healing is. The vampire slams the two bodies face-down onto the table. 

They let out muffled groans. Not dead. Yet. That might change real fucking soon because what the fuck? Spies? Katsuki’s gaze lingers on the battered, blue butterfly wings fluttering on their backs. Fae? His eyes narrow. That’s fucking impossible.

“I caught them in the hallway,” the vampire says coldly, keeping the shitheads pressed on the table. Blood streaks up his bared forearms, disappearing into the same red of his silk shirt. He turns his head to a wide-eyed Uraraka, and Katsuki sees his face fully for the first time.

Beautiful, Katsuki thinks. Mine, his wolf growls in the same pounding heartbeat. The thought thrums though him, instinct a chord singing within. He does not know who this vampire is, does not even know his damn name, but Katsuki knows. He knows somehow beyond a doubt that the person before him is his.

Mine, mine, mine.

A growl rumbles at the back of his throat. He rises out of his seat.

Midoriya glances at him. “Kacchan?” he whispers, forehead creasing. “What’s wrong?”

The vampire’s eyes flick to him, and all Katsuki sees is the slate grey of winter storms and the jewel turquoise of summer oceans. He watches those pretty mismatched eyes widen, watches the pale, elegant line of his mate’s throat contract as that same raw instinct flashes across his face. 

Katsuki wants to touch him so badly. He wants to curl a hand around that vulnerable throat and feel the pulsing thud of the heartbeat that Katsuki can already hear drumming in his ears. He wants them pressed flush together, wants to press right up to the end of him and intertwine them so deeply that there won’t be a beginning or an end. His mate is so fucking beautiful, but he would look even more devastating with Katsuki’s bite marks and fingerprints, with Katsuki’s claim tattooed all over that marble smooth skin.

He wants. The desire pulls him taut, a siren’s call in the hot rush of his blood, the Moon beckoning to the sea. He takes a step forward, and his mate’s fingers flex on the spies’ collars as if to let go and meet him.

“Did you now, Todoroki-san?” Yaoyorozu asks, and the cold steel in her voice slashes through the stunned silence. 

Katsuki jerks, abruptly dragged back to the present.

“It is very rude to show up uninvited,” Yaoyorozu continues. The smoothness of her tone reminds Katsuki of the edging prowl of a wolf before the kill. Something equally dangerous lurks in her eyes. 

She does not look at all surprised by the spies, Katsuki realizes with a start.

The council stands divided, she said earlier. I found them in the hallway, his mate — Todoroki said, but he did not hand them over to the guards and take care of the matter discreetly. No, he blurred right into the ballroom in front of everyone and hauled the spies straight to Katsuki’s table.

Oh. A wicked grin curves Katsuki’s lips. And Jirou had the nerve to call his entrance dramatic. He sure ain’t the only one making a statement tonight.

Jirou catches his amused look and gives a matching smirk. Lifting her goblet slightly in a sardonic toast, she leans back into her chair to enjoy the show.

“It is,” Todoroki agrees, his attention back on the spies.

Yaoyorozu reaches out. The rings on her fingers glitter, her nails the same rich crimson of her dress. She slides her fingers along both of their jaws and tilts their faces up. 

Lavender irises. Blue curls. Pointed ears. Silver horns. Fae at first glance. 

“Who are you?” Yaoyorozu asks.

Both the girl and boy glare defiantly up at her.

“Refusing is useless,” Todoroki says. His voice is as cold as his eyes. “Answer the question.”

Yaoyorozu lifts an eyebrow at their sullen silence. “Do you think we cannot compel you to speak?” She fingers the golden heart-shaped locket on the girl’s necklace. “Vervain does not work on us purebloods.” 

Vervain, huh? Katsuki can’t smell it. Vervain flowers have no scent. The girl must have tucked some into her locket as a safeguard before infiltrating the vampires' ball.

The girl and boy stiffen. Their eyes widen, fear starting to creep over their features.

Blood red seeps into the dark of Yaoyorozu’s irises. Eyes glowing, she locks their gazes together and compels, “Reveal yourselves.”

Gazes vacant, both the woman and man nod. Limbs jerking, they stiffly yank at their beaded bracelets and rip them clean off. 

Instantly, blue curls straighten into tawny, straight locks. The horns shrink and disappear. Pointed ears round, and lavender irises darken to brown. Youthful faces wrinkle and age right before their very eyes.

Their presences no longer cloaked, Katsuki can scent a strange otherworldly trace now. It . . . it smells neither of the earth nor the sea. Katsuki sniffs. It is not the buzz of magic either. But it stings his nose like the frigid cold, and it rings of familiar metal, of silver. Something manmade and unnatural. A blessing most likely, from the new divinity that humans keep worshipping lately. The Lady of the Light, they call her. 

Light. What fucking bullshit. 

He scowls. A shitty false goddess more like. Gods and goddesses ain’t borne from the sparkling celestial skies or some exalted state of ascension. They are borne from stories, from prayers, from wishes. They are borne from people. These fuckers spun themselves a shitty fucking tale, an excuse, and now like a poor besotted sculptor pining away after their own creation, their twisted faith has somehow breathed life into those damned words, that unfeeling marble transforming into something just as inhuman and heartless.

“Hunters,” Midoriya realizes aloud, looking down at the two. His face twists in dismay, and his figure flickers, curling tendrils of green light and crackling red lightning. “What have you done?” he asks hoarsely, his voice the rasp of wind before an incoming storm. His trembling fingers curl into fists at his sides. “What have you done? ”

The tea cup clatters from Uraraka’s hand. She rises, shaking. “That’s — that’s a magic spell. A charm. The bracelets. That —” Her face is deathly pale. The horrified realization widening her eyes makes Katsuki clench his jaw and look away. “The witches who we couldn’t find their bodies to bury —” The tables around them shudder, and the dinnerware levitates. “Did you kidnap them? Did you force them to help you? Are they —” Her voice chokes. “Are they still alive?”

“Magic is an illness, a blight,” one of the hunters seethes, turning malevolent eyes onto her. “It is a curse on this land, witch.” The man thrashes against Todoroki’s unrelenting hold. “As are all of you . You do not belong here! Unholy beings defying the natural order, walking the same earth as Her blessed creations. It is unspeakable!” A wild fervour seizes him. Spine arching, he cranes his neck, body twisting, his face alight with a frightful devotion. “Only in Her light can we be saved! Be grateful that their wicked souls had a chance to be redeemed! You all —!”

“Shut your damn mouth or I’ll rip your fucking worthless tongue out.”  The threat rumbles from Katsuki’s throat like thunder. The hunter flinches hard, and bodies startle similarly in the gathering crowd. The harsh growl has Kirishima, Sero, and Kaminari stiffening, battle-ready again, from the corners of Katsuki’s eyes. His blood burns at the belligerent look on the hunter's face, the dark fire in him blazing anew. 

Saved, this shitheel says. Redeemed, this shitheel says. Uraraka has to see her fellow witches burning at the fucking stakes, her loved ones nothing more than kindling for their hatred. Katsuki has pups who died young and grieving mothers who would do anything to take their place, and this is the shitty fucking garbage this disrespectful fuckhead has to spew. His wolf rages, sharp claws scraping his bone-cage, phantom fur bristling underneath his skin. He is a hair’s trigger away from shifting and tearing out this bastard's throat with his teeth right here and right now.

How dare they. How fucking dare they.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Uraraka says, voice brittle. “Are they —” She closes her eyes, cutting herself off. 

She knows the answer. They all fucking do.

It is also not the only brutality these fuckheads have committed tonight. He levels a hard stare at the still fluttering butterfly wings on their backs. The lightning crackles around Midoriya even more violently.

“Your wings aren’t disappearing,” Todoroki says, stilling. Katsuki can see him finally arriving at the same conclusion Katsuki and Midoriya have already made. Horror pales Todoroki’s face, the painful dread stiffening his limbs. 

Katsuki’s fingers twitch with the sudden urge to pull him away, to hold him close because fuck, this won’t be a pretty sight. 

Hatred never fucking is.

Knuckles bleeding white, Todoroki rips the back of the hunters’ clothes away. Scraps of fabric rain down, revealing the truth. 

The butterfly wings are sawed off, still bloody at the edges, and crudely sewn onto the fabric. They flutter weakly, so the fae they belong to must still be alive. They won’t be for long though, not in the hunters’ cruel, callous hands. And even if by some fucking miracle they will be saved, then how the fuck will they — 

Katsuki grits his teeth. Todoroki’s hand falls, his body recoiling away. The pairs of butterfly wings drop on the floor quietly and damningly. 

Gasps ring out. No one utters a word, shocked into silence.

Jirou clasps a shaking hand to her mouth, and Yaoyorozu looks ill, gripping Jirou’s other hand tightly.

A heart-wrenching wail shatters the silence. Goosebumps racing down his spine, Katsuki turns his head to see a fae stagger forward from the crowd. 

“You rip our wings off?” she demands, fingers digging into her bosom. Eyes on the hunters, she takes another teetering step forward. Mossy green vines for locks of hair, they start streaming down her waist and legs in serpentine rivers. Her voice rises. “You dare defile my kin like so?” 

Vines coil on the ground, a thicket of thorns growing by the fae’s feet. Wetness gleams on her cheeks, but it must be a trick of the light because when Katsuki looks again, her dark eyes are stone-hard granite. She lowers her hands and clasps them in front of her. The similarity of her gesture to a devout follower in prayer is nearly mocking. “How unforgivable,” she says, absolute in her judgement. “You are foul of tongue and of heart.” The vines slither menacingly. “You rot at your roots, sinners. Burn and turn to ash so that you may return to the earth.”

The thorny vines whip out. Shadowy darkness suddenly sweeps in front of her. The vines stop, writhing in place. Mina embraces her. The other fae falters before she clutches back and returns the embrace. Calming her down, Mina murmurs in a voice too low to make out. 

Kirishima stands next to her, his body angled and protective. His gaze strays to Mina's own wings, and his expression hardens.

Mina's eyes are murderous when she pulls back to face them. “Mark my words, humans, you will regret what you have done.”

Next to her, the vine-haired fae holds her head high, a similar dark promise in her condemning gaze.

Rage darkens every fae’s face in the ballroom. The lush scent of verdant earth thickens in the air. Far from a gentle spring. poisonous flowers bloom in the vases. Thorny vines crawl across the windows, scraping the glass, and the ominous creaking of trees echoes through the walls.

“Indeed, they will,” Yaoyorozu says, rising from her seat. She wears no crown, but she looks every inch a queen as she stands tall and regal. Unflinching under everyone’s gazes, she dips into a formal curtsy. “Please excuse our poor hospitality. As the hosts of this ball, we will take care of . . . the unfortunate disturbances.” 

A dangerous smile curves her crimson lips. The bloodthirst in her words reflects in the burning scarlet of her eyes, and she makes no attempt to hide it. Katsuki flicks his gaze back over her dress. Red, huh? She clearly never meant to from the very start.

“Please accept our deepest apologies,” she continues, perfectly poised, her mask of propriety not slipping in the slightest. “Do not fret, and do enjoy the rest of your evening, everyone.”

She offers another curtsy. Todoroki lifts his gaze to the guards to his right and tilts his head in silent command. They come immediately and take the hunters from him. Yaoyorozu follows, the velvet red of her dress trailing after her, no less a banner of war than the trap she and Todoroki set up.

Vampires, both elders and nobles, separate from the crowd and excuse themselves as well. Katsuki spots disapproving frowns on some and pleased smirks on others. 

The corner of his lips hikes up. That’s one hell of a way to force the council’s hand. If there’s one thing those aged fuckers loathe, it’s losing face in front of everyone.

“Red is definitely Momo’s color,” Jirou says dreamily, looking both proud and completely smitten. Katsuki suppresses a snort. Not lovers, his ass. Besides, red also looks good on . . . 

His gaze drifts back to Todoroki staring right back at him, a little wide-eyed with wonder. Caught, Todoroki does not redden, but he shifts slightly on his feet, as if torn on whether to stay or go with the rest of the council.

Fuck, does Todoroki need to go? Katsuki wants him to stay. He wants him close, wants to know him. He hasn’t exactly been pining for his fated — didn’t even fucking expect to have one — but like hell is he letting go of his mate so soon after finding him.

Mine. The thought roars in his head, thundering in his bone-cage. His mate. Katsuki’s breath catches. His.

Before either of them can say anything, a husky voice reverberates in his head: Yes, enjoy yourselves. The night is still young, hatchlings.

The fuck? Katsuki’s head snaps up. He can see everyone else searching for the owner too. 

Candlelight ripples off bright silver scales. The dragon at the back of the ballroom spreads her wings, and a luminous glow dapples the marble floor and dark ceiling like moonlight. Mirth twinkles in her yellow slit eyes. I daresay, a ball is the perfect place to make merry with new friends.

There is a meaningful emphasis to her last words.

Just like that, everyone spurs into movement. Chatter buzzes above the clink of glasses and the clack of heels.

“Uraraka,” a witch calls out from three tables away, his voice hard and clipped. “Meeting.” Not even bothering to follow the dress code, he wears all black, the sharp, sleek cut of his suit at odds with his messy bun. His dark, piercing eyes bore into Katsuki when the man catches him looking. 

Danger presses its razor-sharp edge against his skin. Instinct has Katsuki tensing. The sensation of being seen and known scores into him. The witch breaks his gaze, the tension a heavy blade lifting away, and moves on. 

Katsuki does not recognize him, but he does not need to. Whoever the hell he is, that man is the leader of his pack — the High Priest of Uraraka’s coven.

“I need to go. Sorry,” Uraraka hurries out as she gets up. Already, the witches gather around the ice sculpture with grim looks. Magic sparks ominously off their clenched fists and tensed figures. “I have to go talk with the others.”

Midoriya gives a concerned look at her retreating back. Frowning, he phases through the table. “There’s someone I need to see too.” Curiously, his gaze flits to the floor, distant and distracted. The catacombs maybe.

Midoriya gives a quick smile before he goes. “Congratulations on being fated, Kacchan, Todoroki-kun. May your union be blessed and everlasting.”

“That’s too fucking sappy, nerd,” Katsuki grumbles. Of course, Midoriya would be the first one to figure it out. “Save that shit for someone’s wedding or something.” 

“Thanks,” Todoroki says, not even having the decency to look embarrassed. He shifts again on his feet though, taking neither a step forward nor backward. The restlessness makes Katsuki’s own fingers twitch again.

He wants to slide them into Todoroki’s own and tug him close to clear all of Todoroki’s doubts, but that same uncertainty stops him too. He doesn't know if he can, if he should. What the fuck is the proper way of greeting your fated anyway? All the stories he heard of fated mates were just that to him: stories.

Midoriya laughs. He waves over his shoulder as he phases straight through the floor.

“No way,” Jirou breathes out. “You and Todoroki are fated?” Her face breaks into a grin. “You two sure are an unexpected pair, but I can see it.” 

Katsuki grunts. He does not know if she means their personalities or the fact that vampires and wolves ain’t real friendly to each other. Rivals at best. Archnemeses at worst. Frankly, it is a given when wolves and vampires are each other’s natural counterparts.

“Well?” She arches an eyebrow. Her eyes glitter with amusement. “Momo’s going to be busy for a while. This is perfect. I need a live demonstration on how to dance.” She jerks her chin to the ballroom floor. “Hurry up. Ask him to dance, Bakugou.”

“Hah? The hell does your pining have to do with me?”

“There’s no music,” Todoroki says at the same time. 

Katsuki scowls at her before his mind finally registers Todoroki’s answer. He blinks and then does a double take at Todoroki because shit, that wasn’t a no.

Todoroki, however, thinks his answer is a no because he bites his lips. Tilting his head, he looks searchingly at Katsuki, the furrow of his brow troubled. “Do you not want to dance with me?” 

Shit. Fuck. “I never fucking said that,” Katsuki finds himself denying. When was the last time he danced with someone? He can’t fucking remember. Pretty sure that the last shitty ball he went to ended in a bloody brawl. Fae mead and egos too damn big for the fucking room ain’t ever a good combo for him. “You want to dance?”

Todoroki nods. “Dance with me.” He pauses. The faintest flush of color kisses his cheeks. 

Katsuki has to clench his fingers to stop himself from tracing the soft curve of those cheeks. How can someone be this fucking beautiful?

“Please,” Todoroki adds like an afterthought. Those pretty blues and greys glance up, earnest and beseeching like he needs to beg, like he thinks Katsuki would be foolish enough to reject him.

I’m fucked, Katsuki thinks with sudden and damning clarity. He is utterly and completely fucked because how the hell will he ever be able to say no when Todoroki gives him those damn eyes? Katsuki opens his mouth to speak up, to reassure him, but his thoughts tangle, his tongue tied and twisted. All he can think of is how sweet his mate sounds pleading for him, how much more honeyed that sweetness would be with his mate in his arms, heat-flushed and wanton with pleasure, begging for more, and — Fuck. Fuck.

Arousal bolts up his spine, adrenaline a jagged streak of lightning. The desire must storm across his expression because Todoroki swallows visibly. That maddening scent thickens, heavy with the musk of arousal. 

Damn. Katsuki barely suppresses his groan. He smells so fucking good. 

The impulse to bury himself into that scent seizes him. Todoroki’s throat flexes above the red collar, and Katsuki’s eyes rivet to the unmarked smoothness. He can’t look away, can’t do anything but think about grazing his teeth over that flash of skin and having the taste of his mate on his tongue. He’d taste salt, the heat of skin, Katsuki thinks wildly, the urge a beating, red-hot pulse. Or maybe coldness like the wintry skies of Todoroki’s eyes or the ice white of his locks. He — 

“I said to dance, not to eye-fuck each other.” 

Katsuki jolts back to attention, and he can see Todoroki jerking similarly. Shit. Close. So fucking close. Todoroki is a hand’s reach, a toe’s step away. Jirou gives him a dry look from the corner of his eye, but his limbs strain, body fighting against the roaring current pulling him in. The burn of an instinct denied, everything in him aches to cross that infinitesimal distance between them.

Jirou rolls her eyes. “Consider this your congratulatory gift, wolf.” Without waiting for an answer, she gets up and strides, albeit a bit jerkily, to the vampire orchestra still casting furtive gazes around, unsure of whether or not to resume playing now that many of the vampires have departed for the impromptu meeting. The conductor bows to her — proving him fucking right because as if she and Yaoyorozu are just friends — and Jirou exchanges a few words with him. The vampire nods and raises his hands. Immediately, the orchestra ready their instruments, their smooth movements precise and in sync.

Jirou turns. Eyes closing, she vocalizes. The single note lingers, haunting and melodious. The ballroom hushes. Skirts and tailcoats rustle as dancers find their partners again, positioning themselves in unison. 

Right. Dance.

His heart pounds. Katsuki exhales. His body moves forward, swimming with the current at last. 

Todoroki inhales, stealing that breath between them. 

Katsuki ain’t on land he knows anymore. No, he drowns somehow in ocean blues and sky greys even as his fingers anchor onto an already outstretched hand. Todoroki watches him with parted lips and wondering eyes and all of his fucking attention. 

Katsuki sees only himself reflected in those eyes. He lost today, but victory surges hard now. His mate likes him, wants him. His lips curl in a wicked smirk. Not looking away, he lifts Todoroki’s hand and brushes his lips over winter pale skin. “May I have this dance?”

Not cold after all. The coolness is brief, a snowflake instantly melting on heated skin. Grey and blue flash down to his lips and back up. 

“Yes,” Todoroki says, the barest of a tremble in his voice. He sounds like Katsuki already kissed him breathless. A pulse drums through their tangled fingers, and Katsuki can’t tell whose pounding heartbeat that belongs to. Heat kisses those soft cheeks a delicate, tempting pink again. 

Cute. Too fucking cute, damn it. Katsuki wonders a little desperately if he could get away with nipping an ear. Just a little, just to see.

The violins play. sharp and wicked, their piercing notes the quick parry of blades. This ain’t a gentle waltz that Jirou picked. An inexplicable razor-sharp tingle races down his spine. Instinctively, Katsuki pivots them onto the ballroom floor, body moving on muscle memory rather than sheer willpower. 

Clasping an arm behind his back, he wraps his other around Todoroki’s waist. Silk drags across silk, and that bladed tingle runs its edge over him again. His hand curves on Todoroki’s hip, the press of his fingertips on the vulnerable small of Todoroki’s back, the feel of hidden strength in the ripple of muscles there. That scent — that fucking scent again floods his senses, the warmth of Todoroki’s skin now heady and thick at the back of his throat. 

A growl erupts from him. An even more feral howl rings in his head, his bones. His gut clenches hard with raw want. 

Mine.

He squeezes and tugs Todoroki in close, their hips brushing together. Todoroki’s breath hitches in his ear. Heat pulses between them, echoing their heartbeats. The music surges. They move. Katsuki turns, spinning Todoroki around. Their legs graze, fabric and heat rasping across. 

Todoroki finds him again and again. Parting for not even a breath, he slots back into Katsuki’s arms, gaze seeking and fingers threading back together with Katsuki’s, every inch of him searching for Katsuki’s touch again. Their heartbeats echo through every grazing press of skin, the thrum of blood hot and fast. 

The tempo picks up and up and up. Their footsteps quicken. It must be the dark, chaotic melody or the searing, perfect fit of Todoroki in his arms — Katsuki does not know, does not give a damn, overtaken by the sudden thrill. He speeds up with the rising crescendo, the full moon calling to him, the addicting rush of the hunt streaking through his veins. 

Todoroki matches him step for step, spin for spin. Feeling playful, Katsuki cups both hands on Todoroki’s waist and squeezes. Todoroki slides his hands up Katsuki’s biceps in an answering dare. A reckless grin splits Katsuki’s face. He hefts Todoroki up — hears the sharp intake of breath — and lifts him into another spin.

A breathless laugh startles out of Todoroki. Katsuki’s grin widens. The ballroom blurs around them in glittering flashes of light and color. He sees nothing but Todoroki, blinded by the lit halo of him underneath the chandeliers and the free, radiant smile dimpling his cheeks. 

Beautiful. So fucking beautiful.

The violins end their last note, the music coming to an almost jarring halt.

Katsuki’s feet slow to a stop even as adrenaline courses through him, gut clenching hard with howling instinct and burning hunger. Not enough. This ain’t enough. He wants more. Needs more.

“Another dance?” he asks roughly. His thumb strokes up the jut of a hip, fingers sliding under the hem of a vest before he catches himself. A sudden restlessness itches though him.

Todoroki shakes his head. Disappointment barely sinks its claws into him before Todoroki squeezes his hand and tugs him along. “Air.”

Katsuki glances down. Todoroki's elegant winter-pale fingers lace with his own rough, sunkissed ones. He likes it: that contrast and yet the easy fit of them together despite it. He runs his thumb up the soft, uncalloused edge of Todoroki’s palm and over a bloodstained knuckle.

The genteel grace of these hands belies their mercilessness. He likes that too.

Cool air suddenly kisses his cheeks. The din and clamor of the ballroom fades to a murmur behind them, seemingly muffled by the dark velvet of the night sky overhead.

Todoroki stops before the balcony rail and turns to face him. Shadows soften the elegant lines of him, and Katsuki’s entire body burns with the remembered warmth of him in his arms. 

His face breaks into another wild grin. Todoroki’s gaze instantly rivets to him, and the mad waltz still thrumming in his veins quickens. “Already stealing me away to a balcony?” Katsuki drawls, taking another slow step forward and another. He presses their hips together and revels in the sharp intake of breath that gifts him. Their bodies one long line of searing heat, he walks Todoroki back. Todoroki’s back thumps against the railing. Not looking away, he says lowly, “If you want me to grant a private audience, all you have to do is ask, Half-and-Half.”

Not looking away, he brushes his lips across Todoroki’s hand and then runs the edge of his teeth over a knuckle. A full-body shiver runs through Todoroki. It takes everything in Katsuki not to bite down and devour him whole right here and now.

“Shouto,” Todoroki manages out, gazing up at him with star-bright eyes and too much fucking attention again. “My name is Shouto, Bakugou.”

“Sho,” he says just to be contrary. The tips of  Todoroki’s ears redden. Cute. Too fucking cute. Unable to help himself, he nips the heated curve. Warm again. Huh. Not cold at all. He gives a quick lick just so that pretty flush can spread down Todoroki’s cheeks and neck. Todoroki lets out a sound caught half-way between a whimper and a gasp. “Katsuki then,” he says, grinning widely, “if we’re on a first name basis, Sho.”

“Katsuki,” Todoroki says like he is feeling the shape of the word on his tongue. 

Static snaps across Katsuki’s skin again. He wets his lips. His name passing his mate’s lips is more fatal than any siren’s song.

“Katsuki,” Todoroki says again like he can read Katsuki’s mind, and Katsuki knows he just fucking damned himself to hell again, fuck. Face a little flushed, Todoroki nevertheless raises his chin in challenge. “I don’t have to ask for an audience, do I?” The words are a hot breath against Katsuki’s lips, the heat seeping between them a smoldering, flickering flame. Todoroki tilts his head, baring the entire line of his throat, the fucking little shit. 

Katsuki’s grin slips. He can’t tear his eyes away from that vulnerable softness. Prey-hunter instinct seizes him, a snarling howl thundering right along with the war drumbeat in his veins, demanding him to snap his jaws and clamp his teeth down. All of that fucking skin on display, just begging for his bite mark. His mate should be wearing his claim proudly because he is Katsuki’s. He is his, his, his — A dark growl scrapes from his throat. “Darlin’,” he starts dangerously. Hunger bites him, the throb echoing in the painful clench of his jaw. His knuckles flex, hands gripping Todoroki’s hips hard. “Don’t play.”

He watches the hard bob of Todoroki’s swallow. The urge to bite down, to claim sharpens, the edge of  lengthening canines grazing the tip of his tongue. 

Todoroki doesn’t back away, doesn’t back down. Something untamed and raw rakes over his face, clawing apart that aristocratic composure and matching the wildness in Katsuki’s blood. “But wolves like to hunt,” Todoroki murmurs, lips barely brushing his own in a tease of a kiss. “Don’t you?”

Without warning, he slips out of Katsuki’s arms. Katsuki barely has time to feel the whiplash of cold air and empty space when red, white, black blurs away in front of him. 

A snarl on his lips, he sprints, body already moving before his mind can even catch up. Mine. The thought rolls like thunder through him, desire-instinct the lash of lightning down his spine. His entire vision narrows down to the small of Todoroki’s back, the garden around him a haze of greenery. It’s fucking common sense, basic survival instinct even, not to show one’s back to anyone, much less a wolf.

And here his mate is, carelessly daring him on a chase, on a hunt. That fierce thrill from earlier surges, streaking over his face in something too feral to be a grin.

He likes this part of Todoroki too.

Distantly, he registers the white carved columns of a gazebo coming into view, but the thought is fleeting because Todoroki’s pace slows. Surging, Katsuki lunges.

They tumble in a tangle of limbs. Katsuki’s hands find pale wrists, fingers curling over a drumming pulse, and his thigh is a hard, unforgiving line of muscle forcing long legs up and apart. Todoroki resists, but he’s fucking playing again. It’s all bark and no bite because when Katsuki grips his wrists a little meaner and pins them above his head, Todoroki sinks back into the plush pillows of the cushioned bench with a moan. His hips buck a little, the heated bulge of his arousal grazing Katsuki’s own.

Hair a spill of sunset wherever the candlelight halos him, Todoroki gazes up, cheeks flushed and throat bared again, prey that wants to be caught.  

“Sho,” Katsuki snarls because this idiot has no fucking idea what he does to him, letting himself be pinned so easily like this. His mate is underneath him, willing and wanting, and Katsuki has never been this fucking hard in his life. He presses his hips down, letting Todoroki feel it, and grinds their cocks together in one rough drag. Todoroki throws his head back with a whine, exposing that tempting line of smooth, unclaimed skin again. “You have no fucking sense of danger,” Katsuki growls, his grip tightening.

“Because it’s you,” Todoroki pants out, voice raw like the confession scrapes out of him. “Because you’re mine.” 

Emotion ripples across Todoroki’s face, and Katsuki finds the ground underneath his feet stolen again. He is swept once more into a current that tugs straight at his heartstrings. The ache echoes in his fingertips, and he lets go to cradle Todoroki’s cheek instead, thumb stroking.

Something trembles in Todoroki’s expression, the break of a wave that might take the both of them under. Still, he meets Katsuki’s searching look, his gaze brave and painfully open, baring his soul the same way he showed Katsuki his back. He tilts his head, exposing his throat again, and Katsuki finally sees the vulnerability as the gesture of trust, as the implicit test of faith that it is supposed to be.

Katsuki’s mouth runs dry. He swallows hard.

“Should I be scared of my fated?” Todoroki asks quietly, his lips brushing Katsuki’s thudding pulse.

Yes, he thinks helplessly, lungs burning with a long-held breath as he sinks in deep waters and touches their lips together. You should be. The ache in his chest burns the back of his throat, and the kiss sears him from the inside out. Because Katsuki knows himself. He knows he can be a right fucking bastard when he wants to. Hell, even worse sometimes when he is trying his fucking hardest not to be. 

A fighter. That he knows how to be. A lover though — He has teeth too sharp for that tenderness.

“No,” Katsuki says hoarsely instead. Because —  because even so, fuck, the mere thought of hurting Todoroki is unbearable. “Not of me,” he says in a ragged breath, the truth torn from him. He presses their foreheads together. “Never.”

Todoroki’s gaze softens. He nods. The simple acceptance makes the rawness in Katsuki’s chest smart again. Todoroki reaches up, gentle fingers stroking over the tip of Katsuki’s wolf ears that Katsuki only now realizes are out. “Then you don’t scare me, wolf,” he says earnestly.

Not knowing what to say, Katsuki answers him with another heated, desperate kiss. Todoroki’s fingers tighten in his hair as Todoroki returns it with matching fervor. Katsuki’s tongue delves in, tasting warmth and tea and strawberries. 

Sweet, he thinks, heat cloying low in his belly. Like the rest of his mate.

He chases after the taste hungrily, licking his way back into the slick heat of Todoroki’s mouth. A moan shudders out of Todoroki. Katsuki greedily drinks in that sweetness too. 

His hands wander down. Rucking up a shirt, he slides his palms up and over quivering muscles and smooth skin, mapping the shape of Todoroki with his fingers as thoroughly as he does with his lips and tongue.

“K-Katsuki,” Todoroki chokes out, breaking the kiss. His hands slip down to clutch Katsuki’s vest instead. 

“What, sweetheart?” Katsuki murmurs, kissing along his jawline. That intoxicating scent blooms up, rich and deep. He noses down and presses right in the soft spot underneath Todoroki’s jaw to get another lungful of it. Eyes sliding shut, he breathes Todoroki in. "Fuck," he groans aloud, his senses swamped with that maddening scent. “You smell so fucking good.”

"What do I smell — ah, smell like?" Todoroki’s voice stutters into another moan as Katsuki mouths down his neck.

He smells like a lot of things, all of them good but none of them easy to name. He smells a little like autumn when the trees are set ablaze in reds as fiery as the shade of Todoroki’s locks, and the heavy, deep notes of rain-soaked earth mingles with the smoke from crackling fireplaces. He smells like winter too, a cool crispness that reminds Katsuki of brisk winds nipping his skin and streaking through his fur when he runs through the forest, fully shifted, his paws treading through freshly fallen snow.

Mismatched like Todoroki’s hair and eyes. It fits Todoroki somehow.

"You smell like home," Katsuki realizes because underneath it all, there is a welcoming familiarity that soothes him. He smells like the mountains Katsuki was born and raised in, like all of his favorite things about living there.

It is as if Todoroki’s scent is tailored solely for him.

"You smell like you're meant for me," Katsuki rasps out, finally realizing the sheer fucking enormity of having a fated. He never thought — fuck he never even imagined having a mate, much less wanting someone as one. And now — now he has a fated, a bond closer than kin or pack, deeper than blood and flesh. Someone who will be his best match, for better or worse, and — 

He sucks in a breath, the throbbing burn of it like a cracked rib cage. Rawness bleeds where he shouldn’t be, where he always makes damn sure to guard because vulnerability feels a lot like weakness, and weakness gets people fucking killed in a shitty world that always takes and never gives. A part of him raises his hackles, wanting to bare his teeth in the worst fucking way. Another part of him, a bigger part, aches. Overwhelmed, he draws in a mouthful of flesh, his teeth sharp and nicking soft skin.

Todoroki gasps, his hips hitching up.

Warm. Todoroki’s scent settles at the back of his throat, the warmth of Todoroki’s skin lingering on his tongue. Soft too. Katsuki sucks, flicking his tongue before he lets go. Too damn soft. The hickey blossoms immediately, a plush rose petal on snow white.

His eyes rivet to it. His mate wears his mark so prettily, so easily. Desire tears into him, biting and vicious. All he wants to do is sink his teeth in deeper and leave behind a mark, a reminder of himself that will never fade. The possessiveness makes him growl before he can stop himself.

Fuck. Shit. Hand fisting, he clenches his teeth against the snarling howl in his head demanding him to do just that, open his mouth wide and devour Todoroki whole, body and soul, scrape his teeth over every inch of that unclaimed softness, dig his claws in and never let go. His forehead drops on Todoroki’s shoulder. He takes in a ragged breath, desperately trying to claw back his control.

Fingers card through his hair. "Because I am yours,” Todoroki tells him, but his voice trembles at the last word. When Katsuki drags his gaze back up, that raw vulnerability is back in Todoroki’s eyes. “Do —” Todoroki licks his lips. “Do you want me to be?” He tilts his neck and guides Katsuki up with unfaltering hands. “Please,” he whispers, begs like Katsuki isn’t trying his fucking hardest not to give in right now and be selfish.

Katsuki’s lips graze a thrumming pulse. Want and yearning swell behind his ribcage, and he loses his last foothold in the break of the wave. He bites down, the copper bloom of blood on his tongue and a savage thrill roaring in his veins. 

Todoroki chokes out a moan. His fingers rake down Katsuki’s back, scoring white-hot lines of fire.

Katsuki groans. He swipes his tongue over the bloodied bite to soothe and draws back.

Mine, mine, mine, his wolf howls with glee. No longer unmarked and empty of his mark, Todoroki’s throat bears his bite — his claim, fuck — high enough where no collar will hide it. The imprint of his teeth is as good as his name tattooed for all to see. Every fucking extra will know who Todoroki belongs to now. 

His mate. His, his, his. Something more feral than victory rushes through him. 

Grinning, he surges up and kisses Todoroki hard. 

“Ka-Katsuki, wait,” Todoroki pants out. He draws back, chest rising and irises flickering scarlet. The tip of his tongue flashes pink. “I taste — Mm.”

Katsuki captures his lips again, loathe to let him go for even a breath. The wildness in him streaks up, unfettered and untamed. He wants his mate so fucking bad. Fabric tears under his searching fingers.

His lips follow the edge of a jawline down to a flexing, pale throat. Catching soft skin between his teeth, he sucks another trail of lovebites, drawing sweet moans from Todoroki. Rosy reds bloom again, their petals scattering across creamy skin.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Katsuki croons, admiring his handiwork. He drags the rough pad of his thumb across a soft pink nipple. Instantly, the bud perks up, needing nothing more than his touch. Fuck, Todoroki is so sensitive too.

Todoroki whimpers. Hair mussed and clothes disheveled beyond repair, he looks debauched. Heat flushes down to his chest, and Katsuki can’t help but kiss the bare curve of his shoulder.

“Look at you,” he says lowly. He cups the slight swell of a pec and rolls the peaking, pink nipple between his fingers. The same lovely color blushes Todoroki’s cheeks. Todoroki squirms, whimpering. His body draws up in taut, rigid lines that Katsuki wants to trace all over again with his teeth and tongue.

A wicked smirk curves Katsuki’s lips, one that he knows probably edges on mean. Todoroki’s breathing hitches audibly. He strokes rougher and pinches the reddened swell of Todoroki’s nipple between his fingers. “You’re gorgeous everywhere, aren’t you?”

“Ngh!” Todoroki’s back arches up beautifully. It pushes his chest unwittingly further into Katsuki’s hands, and Katsuki can’t help but tug and twist a little meanly. 

Todoroki seizes up with a cry. “N-No. Don’t pinch. Not there. Too mu—m-much. Feels weird. Ah, ah, ah —” Todoroki catches his bottom lip between his teeth and turns his head away. It does little to stifle the sweet sounds Katsuki can feel quivering through the heated press of their bodies. 

Katsuki chuckles. “Weird, huh? It feels good, you mean.” He leans down and licks a stripe across a smooth collarbone. Warm. A little salty. Too bare again. He bites down, a little harder than he means to. But it feels right, feels fucking good, and the sight of  his teethmarks indenting all this soft flesh soothes that roaring snarl in his head. Todoroki lets out another strangled sound. “I’m fucking up somewhere if you aren’t, sweetheart.” 

Todoroki twitches underneath him at the endearment. So he likes that too, huh? Katsuki’s lips curve up, smirk pressed against Todoroki’s pounding heart. He kisses Todoroki’s pulse. “Want to see you come, darlin’,” he says, deepening his voice to a low drawl. “Bet you’re even prettier when you do.” He circles his thumb back over the tempting pink nipple, coaxing another moan from Todoroki. He presses a tender kiss there too. “I want you to feel so fucking good that you’ll cry.” 

He slides his hand between them and drags it down trembling muscles. “Do you want that? Want me here? Huh?” His palm presses into the softness of Todoroki’s belly. 

Todoroki inhales sharply. He gazes down with wide eyes.

Katsuki’s cock twitches, trapped in his tightening pants. Fuck. “Inside, yeah? Filling you up,” he says huskily, so fucking hard that it hurts now. “Making sure you’re never empty of my cock, of me .” He splays his fingers wide deliberately and feels as if to trace the outline of his cock already inside. Todoroki’s belly quivers under the press of his fingertips. “You’ll ache with the shape of me, sweetheart,” he says lowly, locking their gazes together. “Will you be able to take me?”   

Todoroki’s tongue darts out, wetting his lips. Katsuki watches him swallow hard. Dropping his arm over his face, Todoroki wordlessly nods his head.

Fuck. 

Heat clenches hard in his belly, desire a hot pulse in his veins. His face splits wide into a feral grin. “Yes? Yes what? You want my cock?” He grinds down. Todoroki whines, fingers scrabbling and hips bucking up to chase him. Katsuki presses him back down, not letting him. “My fingers? My mouth? Which is it?” he taunts, feeling dangerously wild. “Huh? What do you want?” He rolls his hips and revels in the small, pleading sound that earns him. Cute. His mate is so damn cute, fuck. It makes him want to bite Todoroki all over again. 

“Use your words,” he condescends because he is starting to know what Todoroki likes now. He knows Todoroki’s type at least, the type that likes both a firm hand and to be spoiled. It looks like they will be compatible in more than one way. Hiding his smirk, he lifts an eyebrow. “I haven’t fucked them out of you yet.”

Todoroki’s cheeks redden further. He bites his lips, and it takes every bit of Katsuki’s self-control not to catch that kiss-swollen flesh between his teeth instead. “You.” 

Katsuki’s heart thumps. 

Todoroki gazes up, eyes earnest with an innocence that makes Katsuki’s blood burn all over again. “I want you,” he says, jutting his chin out a little stubbornly like he thinks Katsuki is going to fight him on it. “All of you.” His fingers close around Katsuki’s lapels, grip tightening, even though leaving him is the last damn thing on Katsuki’s mind. Todoroki tugs. “Please.”

Katsuki swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “Say it again,” he says roughly, and he does not know who is begging now. 

 “I want you, Katsuki,” Todoroki says softly.

Again, those damned eyes. Katsuki sees no lie in them, just an unwavering tenderness that he does not know how to fucking hold, how to keep . Helpless, he wraps his arms around Todoroki.

Todoroki makes a small sound, Immediately, warm arms curve around his neck, hands clutching him right back, their bodies fitting seamlessly once more. Rightness echoes deep in Katsuki’s bones. It’s not fucking enough. Even this distance is too fucking far. He presses closer, the aching desire in him infinite like the endless reach of the sky and earth for each other.

How? Katsuki wants to say, throat tightening. How the fuck do you want me this much when you don’t know who I am?

His lips part around not a word but flesh. Todoroki jerks, his ragged moan echoing right through Katsuki’s fingertips. Fingers instantly fist his hair. 

“No, no, not there. Don’t b-bite there — Hnh!”

Katsuki edges his teeth around the pert nipple and tugs. Todoroki arches up with a broken sound that makes Katsuki’s cock throb. Sucking, Katsuki pinches his other nipple and coaxes it to stiffness.

Not enough. More. He wants — He wants —

Switching, he wraps his lips around the other nipple. his tongue flicking across the tender bud. Todoroki’s hips stutter underneath him. Moans and whimpers spill freely from Todoroki’s lips. That pale elegant throat flashes again above him, and Katsuki wants to bite down, because how? Fated or not, how the fuck can Todoroki be his this easily? 

Todoroki’s heart pounds against his fingertips. Katsuki can barely tell it apart from his own heartbeat drumming through his skin.

That intoxicating scent drenches the air like heavy rainfall. Heat pools low in Katsuki’s belly. Fuck, he needs — His hands edge under a waistband, and Todoroki lifts his hips without prompting. 

Fucking hell. He growls and scrapes his teeth over the jut of Todoroki’s hip bone. And then bites down when Todoroki whines.

Shit, how many of these stupid fucking buttons are here? The fuck — He pulls his lips away from the blossoming hickey to scowl. Fuck it. He hefts Todoroki up the cushions and rips the trousers clean off. 

Todoroki makes a breathless sound, the same one Katsuki heard when he lifted him up while dancing earlier. 

Katsuki flicks his gaze back up, a smirk already tugging his lips at the realization, only to falter in the next breath. 

Already glassy-eyed with pleasure, Todoroki pants, chest heaving. His rosy nipples glisten, all swollen and spit-slick, just fucking begging to be sucked and pinched again. Katsuki’s teeth marks circle around his left one in a perfect ring.

Possessiveness runs hard through Katsuki. He rakes his gaze down the bite marks and hickeys marring the smoothness of all that bared skin. They won’t stay for long, not with vampiric healing. Todoroki bruises without Katsuki even trying though. His eyes linger on the inviting dip of Todoroki’s waist, the supple flesh of Todoroki’s splayed thighs, plushness that would carry the shape of his fingers and hands so, so, so damn easily. The thought makes his palms buzz sharply.

No. He takes it fucking back. His marks won’t fade at all. There won’t be time for them to. Not if Katsuki proves himself as a damn good mate. 

“Katsuki?”

He tears his gaze away from Todoroki’s flushed cock curving against Todoroki's stomach and already seeping wetness from the plump head. Gorgeous all fucking over, damn.

Todoroki bites his lips. He looks uncertain now, and Katsuki finally realizes that he’s been staring without moving or saying a word like a fucking idiot. “Am I — Is something wrong?” Todoroki asks.

Something in his voice makes Katsuki’s senses prickle with alarm. He eases off to take a full look at him.

Todoroki folds his arms around himself, body curling small like his voice. Defensive, guarded, the hunter in him thinks. Odd, Katsuki thinks because Todoroki has been nothing but open and trusting so far. Recklessly so even. Laid bare before him, Katsuki sees his mate soft and vulnerable against the burning gold of the candlelight and the dark silks of the cushions in searing clarity all over again. 

Arousal pulses white-hot even as a sudden burst of protectiveness tightens his chest. Pale fingers flash up to the old burn scar, the touch fleeting but telling.

Oh.

Katsuki can’t fucking have that. His mate has nothing to be ashamed of. “Nothing’s wrong, Sho,” he reassures, lacing their fingers together. He strokes his thumb along the delicate curve of a cheek, grazing the edges of the scar, and wishes he could smooth out the troubled crease of Todoroki’s brow just as easily. “You’re fucking beautiful,” he presses because they all have scars, on or underneath the skin. It does not bother him a fucking bit. He brings their linked hands to his lips and kisses Todoroki’s hand gently. “Just got lost in the sight of you. That’s all, sweetheart.”

Todoroki’s eyes flit from their hands back up to Katsuki’s face. He swallows visibly. “Oh.” His fingers twitch in Katsuki’s hand, the skip of his heartbeat unsteady and unsure.

Katsuki grips his hand tighter. “You calling your mate a liar?” he challenges. Todoroki’s lips part in a protest, but Katsuki leans up and mouths his truth first. 

Todoroki’s breath hitches, body stiffening, before he lets out a desperate, needy sound that throbs at the back of Katsuki’s own throat. Fingers clutching Katsuki back, he chases after him, tongues wrapping together, the drag of their lips rough and hungry.

Katsuki groans. The warm scent of Todoroki’s skin seeps thickly into all of his senses. It’s fucking addicting. Todoroki drinks in every single one of his touches and follows after him in a wordless plea for more like he starves, going without Katsuki for even a breath. His body is too damn honest. Every part of Todoroki tells Katsuki that Todoroki wants him. It’s —

“How could I not want you?” Katsuki asks aloud, breaking apart for a breath that is still fucking stolen from him. The ragged ache in his chest matches the raw bite on Todoroki’s neck. How could he not want someone who wants him this fucking much?

Todoroki stares wide-eyed. “I . . . You . . .” His expression turns as helpless as Katsuki feels. He tugs at the hem of Katsuki’s vest and turns pleading eyes up at him. “Let me see you too.”

The vest is already sliding off his shoulders, his fingers working at the buttons. He leans back, and Todoroki’s heated gaze follows. “Want me bare?” he asks roughly. Todoroki nods, eyes wide and wanting. Arousal burns low in Katsuki’s belly. Compulsion doesn’t work on werewolves, Katsuki thinks, taking off his shirt, but it sure doesn’t make a fucking difference. Todoroki doesn’t need to compel him if he keeps looking at Katsuki like that.

There ain’t much that Katsuki wouldn’t give to his mate right now.

Todoroki watches him, tracking his every movement. Heat rasps over Katsuki’s skin like a searing flame. It’s fucking heady. Todoroki’s entire attention rivets to him, enthroning him anew, the weight of it not a bloodied crown but devotion that burns like power through his veins. He licks his lips. “You like what you see?”

“Yes,” Todoroki breathes out like Katsuki kisses the answer out of him. His fingers flex, gripping the cushions. 

“You can touch me, sweetheart.” Katsuki gives him a knowing look. “I didn’t say you couldn’t.” He grins when Todoroki’s cock twitches tellingly, fully hard again. Todoroki reaches out, seeking— always seeking him — and Katsuki wonders with amusement if Todoroki was waiting for permission all this time.

Todoroki’s fingertips skim across his skin, tracing the lines of him with a curiosity far too fucking innocent for what Katsuki wants to do to him. Katsuki lets him explore and tries not to preen under the naked admiration in Todoroki’s gaze.

He stiffens though when Todoroki’s fingers brush over the tender skin on his right side where a silver sword grazed him earlier. It doesn’t throb, the scar already scabbed over and skin knitting together, but anger bleeds again with the memories. This wound will disappear in a day or two, but the losses his people suffered today? His jaw clenches. No, that hurt won’t heal so fucking easily. 

Todoroki pauses. He glances up, and Katsuki knows his face betrays him. Shit. He opens his mouth, but the hard dismissal — he doesn’t want to fucking talk about it, not even to his fated — never makes it past his lips. Todoroki surges up without warning. Strong arms circle Katsuki’s neck and firm thighs bracket Katsuki’s hips, holding him in place.

Katsuki blinks. “Sho?”

Todoroki settles further in his lap. Katsuki's palms automatically curve on his waist to steady him. He blinks again, bewildered and distracted by the naked press of their bodies. Uncaring, Todoroki turns his head. Soft lips and sharp fangs run right over the dried splatter of blood on Katsuki's shoulder. 

Katsuki stills. Todoroki's eyes glint, bright as stars and sharp as steel. “Did you have a good hunt, alpha?”

Alpha. The word snares him, its jagged teeth piercing in, desire welling up to the surface hot and thick like blood. It's an archaic term. No one uses it anymore, not since the warrior days of olde. But Katsuki knows what it means. Every wolf who knows the thrill of the hunt, knows that dark feeling that burns like lust, eats like hunger right before the kill, does.

Todoroki meets his smoldering gaze. He does not press his fingers to Katsuki’s wound, does not fret, does not ask questions that Katsuki knows he won't be able to answer without bristling. There is none of that well-meaning but chafing sympathy that Katsuki would bare his teeth at. No, his mate instead tilts his head, baring the claimed slope of his neck and shoulder like a fucking challenge.

“Yeah," Katsuki growls. His anger muzzles, leashed for now, and something equally feral crouches in its place. "I did.” He and his wolves had not left a single one of those fuckers alive. And tonight he . . . 

He slides his palm up that elegant curve and curls his fingers over Todoroki’s pale throat. His thumb presses into his purpling bite mark. 

Todoroki does not flinch. He presses back into Katsuki’s palm and watches him with half-lidded eyes.  

“I caught a pretty, dangerous thing,” Katsuki says, voice low and dark. He leans in, and the dark of the night eclipses their bodies, shadows pooling under his touch. Todoroki’s pupils dilate, his irises gleaming red like twin blood moons before flickering back. “You know . . .” His grip hardens, squeezing just so. Muscles spasm, and Todoroki’s pulse quickens underneath his fingertips. Todoroki’s eyelashes flutter. “I think I met my fucking match.” 

Todoroki’s eyes snap open. Hunger rakes across his face. 

Katsuki’s smirk sharpens, and he laughs.

It’s a coin’s toss on who moves first. Todoroki’s hand fists his hair, yanking, and his hand tightens around Todoroki’s throat, squeezing, the both of them just taking. 

It is not a kiss. It is too violent to be a kiss, too merciless to even be human desire, the collision between them a touch only in the way two storms thunder into a raging tempest.

Fangs slice his tongue. Pain stings, the crack of lightning, and Katsuki tastes slick copper between his teeth. He growls. 

Todoroki gasps. Hands suddenly push him back, breaking them apart.

Katsuki’s gaze fixes instantly on the blood reddening Todoroki’s swollen lips, made all the more vivid against the iciness of Todoroki’s locks and skin. Beautiful. He is a fucking siren song in living flesh.

Todoroki, however, leans back. His heartbeat skitters in Katsuki’s ears, his scent souring with sudden distress. Katsuki’s gaze cuts up, his body already tensing —

Todoroki’s eyes burn red with bloodlust. His hands grip Katsuki’s shoulders hard, fingernails digging in; although to hold himself back or keep Katsuki away, Katsuki doesn’t know. Todoroki opens his mouth to speak, closes it, the tip of his tongue darting out. And it’s a fucking mistake, Katsuki can tell, tasting all that blood staining his lips. Todoroki shudders with a moan. Bright crimson slants to Katsuki’s throat and away.

Katsuki pauses. “You hungry?” he asks, watching him.

Todoroki does not quite meet his eyes. “No.”

His voice does not shake, but Katsuki can feel his thighs trembling, his control fraying at the seams. His mate is a shit liar for a vampire. 

A bite, huh? Katsuki pulls Todoroki back in close. He strokes up Todoroki’s thighs absently. He hasn’t been bitten by a vampire before. Hasn’t fucked one either. His gaze flicks back to his claim on Todoroki’s neck. “You wanna bite me, Sho?”

Todoroki flinches, and Katsuki knows he hits the target dead-on. Blood red eyes flick back to his throat and away. “Yes. I . . . I do,” he says, voice strained, like it is a truth that condemns him. He even looks a little guilty for saying it. “But I won’t — You don’t have to worry —”

“You can,” Katsuki says and finds himself meaning it. He locks their gazes together and very slowly, deliberately bares his neck. It burns, this damning vulnerability not borne of blood spilt and shared. Trust is earned with him, never given. It is something forged on the battlefield fighting alongside his packmates, and it is the sword, the shield that will save their backs as much as it will save his.

So this is . . . His muscles pull taut with the urge to pull back, to lash out. He forces himself to stay, even though he feels fucking cornered in a long fucking while. 

Todoroki is his fated, he tries to remind himself. His fated is a different story. That’s pack too. And Katsuki is a lot of fucking things but never a damn coward.

“Katsuki,” Todoroki breathes out. There is disbelieving wonder in his voice, desire too, his gaze flashing back to Katsuki’s throat. But his pulse drums wrong in Katsuki’s ears, and Katsuki catches the sharp sliver of fear piercing through that want.

And suddenly, it’s easy fighting his instincts. “I ain’t scared of my fated,” Katsuki says, returning Todoroki’s words from earlier. He will return this too. He wants to. He cups Todoroki’s nape, thumbing over his bite mark, and keeps his hand curled there. Todoroki lets out a small sound and sinks, soft and sweet, under his grip. 

Katsuki drinks in the sight, and yeah, surrender doesn’t feel so fucking hard anymore. Not when it wins him this. “Bite me, sweetheart,” he coaxes, guiding Todoroki to the crook of his neck. “I won’t have my mate going without.”

Todoroki’s breath hitches audibly. The bow of his back strains, weathering an unseen storm from the inside. Katsuki strokes again soothingly. His fingernails dig into Katsuki’s shoulders. “You’ll stop me if I go too far.”

“If you do,” Katsuki agrees easily. He kisses Todoroki’s hair. “But you won’t.”

Warm lips graze his pulse. Katsuki wonders what his heartbeat tells Todoroki because he relaxes. A soft tongue flicks over his vein, kitten licks, before Todoroki seals his lips over it and bites down.

Pain sparks, bright and jagged. The scent of blood sharpens. Todoroki moans, and Katsuki suddenly has an armful of his mate, pliant and molten, all but slumping on his chest. 

It stings, but not bad. Katsuki runs a hand down the gorgeous curve of Todoroki’s back and cups the ample swell of his ass. He squeezes. Another moan shudders out of Todoroki. Katsuki rakes his gaze down, stopping where his palm fits just so fucking perfectly over that plumpness. The sudden image of his handprint, a burning red on pale flesh, sears into his mind. He bites back a groan. 

Next time, he tells himself, palming both cheeks. His eyes rivet to the soft bounce of flesh. Fuck. Later. He kneads, spreading Todoroki open until Todoroki whimpers. His hips hitch up, rubbing up against Katsuki. Soft, plaintive sounds murmur from him as he drinks.

Yeah, not fucking bad at all. 

Todoroki somehow feels warmer. He is just so fucking soft now, all supple skin and heated flesh that molds to Katsuki’s wandering hands. It drives Katsuki fucking crazy. He lets Todoroki suck his blood for a little while longer before he runs his fingers through silky strands. “Sweetheart,” he forces out, voice as taut as he feels. It’s not so much blood loss as it is all of his blood rushing to his fucking dick. There’s a limit to how much he can tolerate his mate humping his lap like this.

“Mm?” 

Todoroki’s fangs slip out, and the scrape of them across sensitive skin makes Katsuki moan. Blood trickles, hot and sticky, down his neck. Todoroki laps it up, head bobbing.

“Sho,” Katsuki tries again, distracted by Todoroki’s mouth on his throat. He imagines those lips wrapping around his cock instead, swallowing him down just as hungrily, and the thought makes desire pulse sharp and hot. Stroking through Todoroki’s hair again, he curls his hand back over Todoroki’s nape. He squeezes. “Shouto.”

At that, Todoroki finally lifts his head up. Blood smears his lips, painting them dark red. Pupils blown wide, he blinks real slow up at Katsuki, looking already dazed, fuck.

Katsuki was fucking right. Red does look good on his mate. Pleasure even more so.

“You taste really good,” Todoroki murmurs, turning his head to nuzzle the edge of Katsuki’s palm and wrist. His hips roll lazily, and Katsuki wonders if he realizes that he’s even doing it. “The b-best —” His voice chokes into a moan when their cocks grind together. “The best I’ve ever —ah — had,” Todoroki pants out. “I feel so warm and full. It’s — Mm. It’s nice.” He licks his lips like he is still savoring the taste of Katsuki on his tongue.

“Yeah?” Katsuki’s neck throbs at the reminder. So this is what being bitten feels like, huh? He is Todoroki’s just as much Todoroki is his now, and it’s — His heart pounds.

Todoroki looks so fucking sated too. Katsuki really fucking likes that, the instinct in him an itch that he never knew he had until it was scratched. His mate won’t fucking lack for anything. Katsuki will take care of him. Pleased, he runs his thumb over the blood streaking Todoroki’s chin. “You’re a messy eater,” he says huskily, tilting up.

He licks into the seam of Todoroki’s mouth, tasting his own blood on Todoroki’s tongue. 

Blood must taste different to a vampire. He tastes only burning metal, Todoroki, and raw heat that sears his senses like a fresh kill and a good hunt. The red of Todoroki’s eyes and hair flame in his vision, and lust smolders in his veins, war drumming in his blood. He growls. He catches Todoroki’s bottom lip between his teeth and bites down, caring not for the rush of hot copper but the thrum of Todoroki’s pulse on his tongue.

Todoroki's gasp stutters in a breathless whine. He presses back for more, letting himself be conquered, giving himself up, and the surrender only makes Katsuki burn all over again. "Katsuki — Hah — Katsuki, your turn," he says fervently as Katsuki nips harshly at his throat. 

Katsuki is not sure what he means until Todoroki shifts up in his lap, and his cock slips into Todoroki’s crease. 

Todoroki grinds down, deliberately slotting Katsuki between his cheeks. Circling his hips shamelessly, Todoroki gazes down, eyes still burning blood red. “Eat your fill, alpha.” 

Katsuki snaps.

He seizes Todoroki by the hips and slams him back down against the cushions. Todoroki only moans at the rough handling and arches his back, muscles rippling and cock leaking all over his stomach. 

“Eat my fill, huh?” Katsuki digs his fingers into Todoroki’s thighs and wrenches them up and apart. He splays them wide on his hips, baring Todoroki entirely to his gaze. 

A whimper hitches out of Todoroki. His thighs shake around Katsuki, but his cock twitches tellingly, pre-cum welling up again from the flushed head. 

A sharp smirk edges Katsuki’s lips. “Sweetheart,” he says darkly, “I’ll eat you fucking alive.” Todoroki’s throat works in a hard swallow. The urge to bite down on that thumping heartbeat grips Katsuki. He drags his thumb over that tight furl of flesh instead and revels in the tremble rippling through Todoroki like a wave. “My blood’s not fucking enough, huh? Are you starving for cock that badly?” 

He wraps his other hand around Todoroki’s dripping cock and strokes. Todoroki’s head falls back with a whine. He chuckles. “Looks like you’re the one still hungry. But that’s fine. I’ll take care of my mate even if he is a fucking slut.” Condescension cuts his words cruel, and he can see Todoroki shuddering underneath that hard edge. His smirk widens. “But how am I going to fit?” he croons. “You’re so fucking small here.” 

He presses his thumb harder, not quite entering but just so Todoroki can feel it. Katsuki means to tease him. He really fucking does, but that pink pucker shyly kisses the pad of his thumb, barely widening, and he has no fucking idea how it will swallow all of his cock.

Fuck.

“You’re going to break, sweetheart,” Katsuki says, voice scraped so rough that he barely recognizes it. His cock throbs hard despite himself. 

Todoroki’s eyes dart down. He makes a helpless sound. Katsuki can see the same realization flash across his face because it is not fucking ego when Katsuki says he is big. The musk of Todoroki’s scent deepens, and Katsuki can nearly fucking taste him at the back of his throat again. 

“Katsuki,” Todoroki whimpers. He tugs at Katsuki’s fingers, but the next words out of his mouth are not a plea for mercy. “You said you’ll make me cry.” Katsuki’s breath catches. Todoroki gazes up through his eyelashes, eyes so full of want that an answering sharp-toothed hunger claws into Katsuki. “So make —” Todoroki licks his lips and lifts his hips in blatant invitation. “Make me take it. Fuck me open.” His fingers trail down the bitten v of his hips, past his pretty cock, and down to his hole, their hands grazing together. He spreads himself wider, and Katsuki’s finger sinks in deeper past the stretching rim. “Claim me here too.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

“I’ll make you scream,” Katsuki hisses, so fucking hard now that he fucking can’t do this anymore. Hands finding the back of Todoroki’s thighs, he shoves them up and moves down. He pulls Todoroki’s cheeks wider apart and laves right over that tight, puckering rim.

Todoroki jolts, hips bucking up. “Mn! Ka—Katsuki!”

Katsuki bats his hands away with a growl. “You said eat my fill, sweetheart,” he reminds him. He swirls his tongue, and Todoroki moans, shaking. “So be good and let me eat you out. I’ll spread you open, yeah? Get you nice and wet.” 

Todoroki gives a frantic nod. “I’ll be good for you,” he says quickly. His fingers curl into the silk of the cushions instead of Katsuki’s hair. “I’ll be good for you, alpha.”

That damned word again. The easy obedience has him muffling a groan. The night is not over yet, and his mate keeps fucking going for his jugular. He seals his mouth over the pinkening rim and sucks hard.

Todoroki cries out, his whole body seizing tight. Katsuki does it again just to hear his broken sob and shoves past the resisting ring of muscle, tongue fucking into Todoroki’s soft, soft, soft heat.

It’s good, so fucking good. Katsuki moans, eyes sliding shut, senses clouding under the heaviness of Todoroki’s scent. Todoroki’s sweet moans and whines fill the air. His snug heat clenches around Katsuki’s tongue, rim mouthing against Katsuki’s lips in a lewd imitation of a kiss. He is just as eager here as the rest of him. Katsuki could do this forever, could make Todoroki come like this. He wonders if he should because Todoroki is still so fucking tight. Rimming is not going to be enough. Fuck, they should have been in a bedroom or something. 

He is still deciding whether to fuck Todoroki’s thighs or other mouth instead when cold glass bumps his fingers. Todoroki pushes a pink glass bottle into his hand. 

Katsuki pauses. It's oil. Maybe. Or some fancy perfume shit. Wait. He blinks up, finally taking in the cushions and the candles in the gazebo. 

Vampires must be kinky bastards if they set up places like this for a quick fuck. He heard blood sharing is intimate for vampires, so if Todoroki knows of this place, doesn't that mean — 

A possessive growl rumbles from him before he can stop it. He tries hard not to think of it, but the images of faceless lovers pressing Todoroki down like this, touching him, spill through his head, riling him up.

“They usually leave — Mngh — some here,” Todoroki manages out, answering zero of Katsuki’s fucking questions. He arches back against the cushions, hips rocking up desperately. “Hurry, Katsuki.”

He doesn't need to be told twice. Unscrewing the vial, he pours some of the clear liquid on his fingers. Slippery. Feels like oil. He sniffs it. Smells like it too. He really fucking hopes it is oil and not some weird potion shit that will turn their dicks into flowers or leave them hard for hours, unable to come.

Slowly, he pushes two fingers inside. Todoroki moans and rocks down. His rim swallows, easy and deep, kissing Katsuki’s knuckles. 

Oh, damn. Riveted, Katsuki watches as Todoroki fucks himself on his hand. 

“I’m re-ready. O-Open and — and wet for  you. Fuck me. Please. Want it. Want your cock — Ah, ah, ah.” Todoroki’s tongue lolls out, mouth open. His hips rock faster, his pretty cock slapping his stomach with every jerky thrust. Katsuki drives his fingers even deeper and curls them. 

A sob tears out of Todoroki. “No,” he gasps out, eyes tearing up. His hand darts down, and Katsuki groans aloud when he sees Todoroki fisting his cock so he won’t come.  “N-No. Not your hand,” Todoroki begs, still clenching Katsuki’s fingers hard. “Your cock. Want to come on your cock — Mngh!”

Katsuki keeps his fingers pressed there and rubs. His cock throbs hard at the wail that gets him. “Look at you. You’re crying already,” he says, not letting up. Todoroki’s chest heaves with another sob. Tears slide down his beautifully flushed cheeks, and Katsuki has to grit his teeth against the hard pulse of arousal. He wants Todoroki wrecked. “You can’t take my cock, sweetheart,” he growls. “You can’t even take my fucking fingers. How are you going to take me when my cock will split you wider, deeper than this?”

“Please. Please,” Todoroki babbles, hips bucking and feet kicking. “I can — hah — can take it. You can fuck me as — as hard as you want.” His eyes glimmer wetly, tears threatening to fall again. “Katsuki, break me.”

Katsuki cusses aloud. He jerks his fingers out. 

Todoroki whimpers at the loss. Unable to close, his hole mouths lewdly at the air, flashing an even rosier red inside. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Katsuki slicks himself and presses his fat cockhead into that soft gape. 

They both moan aloud. 

“You’re so fucking warm and wet,” he chokes out. Impossibly tight too even with the prep. Todoroki’s silken heat clamps down onto him, molding further and further to the shape of him with every inch he sinks inside. Todoroki can take him, he thinks a little deliriously, eyes squeezing shut and head tipping back. At his most fucking softest, his mate somehow takes Katsuki, rough edges and all. Everything.

That inexplicable ache throbs in his chest, bleeding feelings that he can't name. He wants to bury himself even deeper, wants Todoroki to carry the shape of him inside always and forever. The possessiveness of that claim makes his pulse race.

Todoroki gasps and then lets out a breathless laugh. He reaches up, and Katsuki leans down to meet him. Warm arms circle around Katsuki. The world narrows down once more to the drumming heartbeats pulsing through them. “See?” Todoroki murmurs, and Katsuki does not see anything beyond the gold haloing him. His lips tilt up. “I told you I could take you.”

Katsuki’s throat tightens up. “Yeah,” he rasps out. Helpless, he kisses the soft curve of Todoroki’s smile. “Yeah, you can take me. You’re —” His voice breaks. It aches, this trembling tenderness slipping in between his ribcage like a dagger but with none of its blooded edge. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Before Todoroki can react, he thrusts back in, jostling Todoroki up the cushions.

Todoroki’s lips part in another sweet moan. His arms tighten around Katsuki, hands clutching him close.

But Katsuki can’t fucking anchor him. He is lost in the depths of him. “You’re so good for me, sweetheart. You take me so —hah — so fucking well. Squeezing me so tight like you never want to let me go,” he says without the slightest fucking clue what comes out of his mouth. The rawness in him can’t hold the shape of words. He sinks, sinks, sinks under the burning, ragged wave.

He slides his cock out, dragging along those soft, clenching walls. Todoroki’s swollen rim widens obscenely but closes over his cockhead at the last minute. Sucking, Todoroki draws him back in that snug heat, claiming Katsuki all for himself even as Katsuki imprints himself inside. His mate is just as fucking possessive as he is. 

“You want to keep me, baby? Keep my cock all to yourself?” He snaps his hips, driving his cock back through that slick tightness. Todoroki shakes, whimpering and whining. “You have such a fucking filthy mouth here. Greedy as the rest of you. Does it feel that fucking good swallowing my cock? Having me kiss you inside?”

“Feels good. Want it. Want you,” Todoroki pants out, hazy eyes finding him. He fucks his hips down, meeting Katsuki’s thrust. “You belong here. In — Ngh, inside me. With me. You’re mine.” Thighs quivering, he spreads his legs wider, taking Katsuki deeper. “This is mine,” he whimpers, clenching down and gripping Katsuki tight. “O-Only mine.”

“Like I’d be anyone else’s,” Katsuki growls, undone by it all. “I’m your fucking fated.” He licks messily at Todoroki’s mouth, lapping sloppy kisses from him. Gripping Todoroki’s thighs, he fucks back in. 

Todoroki arches off the cushions, body seizing tight. “There, there, there, again,” he sobs out, nails striping fire down Katsuki’s back. His cock smears wetness between them. “Rub — rub me harder there.”

Katsuki groans. Gripping, he raises Todoroki’s hips up and pushes even deeper. He keeps Todoroki pressed meanly onto his cock and grinds until Todoroki cries, shaking his hips uselessly. Glistening tears brim his eyes, clumping those long eyelashes.

“You’re crying again, sweetheart,” he croons, easing off only to do it again. “Feels that good, huh? Being fucked full with cock. Or are you still empty, baby?” He grinds the fat swell of his cock down, tugging at Todoroki’s rim and spreading him wider. 

Todoroki writhes under him, legs jerking around his hips. Katsuki’s got him folded in half, has him practically in a perfect mating press, fuck.

“D-Deep,” Todoroki gasps out, spasming when Katsuki harshens his pace. “You’re in so deep.” His head rolls to the side, tongue dipping out. “I’m so — so full inside,” he babbles. “It feels g-good. You feel good. You fuck —” His voice hiccups, body jerking with Katsuki’s thrust. “Fuck me so well, alpha.”

A tingle streaks up Katsuki’s spine, sparking in his belly. Fuck. The words are so fucking good. Nipping Todoroki’s lips, he kisses him hungrily.

Todoroki only hugs him closer, letting him plunder. Desire licks through him like fire, and he burns.

This is not his heaven, he thinks, burying himself back into the deepest, softest parts of his mate. Todoroki trembles, but he takes it, takes him like he is meant to, like they are made for each other.

No, this is his fucking ruin. His fingers dig into soft thighs. And he would fucking fight to keep it. Maybe that’s part of being fated too.

His mouth latches back on Todoroki’s pale throat. He scrapes his teeth over Todoroki’s pulse just to hear him whine before he bites back down, right over his earlier bite mark.

Rustle!

He presses Todoroki down flat, ignoring Todoroki’s surprised cry, and brackets him in. Intruder. Bristling, he whips his head around. A feral snarl rips from him. 

Hazel eyes widen. The maid stumbles back a step. 

Bloodsucker. His narrowed eyes flick over her. The rabbit pulse on her throat. The hidden softness of her belly. The thin skin on her exposed wrists. Flesh that his teeth would tear through like paper. Bone that his jaws would snap in half like toothpicks.

He could fucking kill her right here. 

Phantom fur pricks sharp underneath his skin. He should. He tenses back on his haunches, ready to lunge. Because Todoroki is his mate. The fuck is she doing walking in on them, challenging him? His knuckles crack. Fear flashes across her face, and the wild urge to draw blood, to rip her apart seizes him. 

“ — Katsuki,” Todoroki murmurs, his voice penetrating the red mist fogging Katsuki’s vision. His fingers rub the underside of Katsuki’s ears. It feels good, stupidly so, and he comes a little back to himself, the growl rumbling from his chest subsiding.  “She’s one of our maids,” Todoroki continues, albeit a bit unsteadily. He is still inside him, Katsuki realizes. “It’s alright. I’ll dismiss her.”

Todoroki pushes gently at his shoulders. Reluctantly, Katsuki lets him up from his protective hold. Todoroki’s breath catches audibly in his ear at the new angle, but he settles in Katsuki’s lap. Turning his head, he gives the maid a pointed look.

The maid must have a fucking death wish because she does not take the damn hint. Instead, she lowers her head, averting her eyes. “Your father is looking for you, Todoroki-sama. He requests your presence at the meeting.”

Katsuki growls, not liking the challenge to both him and Todoroki. He likes even less this new position. Todoroki’s nude back faces her, his vulnerability all but on display. “Fuck off,” he snarls, jaws snapping around words instead of the flesh he still wants to shred into.

“I am busy,” Todoroki says, voice hard. “You are dismissed.”

The maid bows even lower. “Please return to the castle. It is imperative that you are there for the deliberations. And this is . . .” She clears her throat delicately. “This is most inappropriate,” she finishes, but her eyes flick to Katsuki and away. 

Katsuki gets the fucking feeling that she is less put off by them fucking in the open and more by her precious pureblood master getting fucked by a mutt. He bares his teeth in a vicious sneer. 

Todoroki tenses. His scent sharpens, autumn chill crisping to winter frost. “And what is so inappropriate about being with my fated?” 

There is steel in his voice, and its coldness tingles down Katsuki’s spine like the whisper of a blade. This is not the Todoroki he had crying and moaning a mere moment before. No, this is the Todoroki in the ballroom earlier with hunter blood staining his hands.

The maid’s pulse thumps faster, but she does not answer, vampire decorum too ingrained in her to insult a guest outright.

“Is it because he is a wolf?” There is a dangerous look in Todoroki’s eyes. This is a side to him that Katsuki has only caught glimpses of, the mercilessness in him a silent kill, a hidden blade. “Because he is a wolf,” Todoroki answers for her. Raising his hips, Todoroki bears back down on Katsuki’s cock. “And he is mine.”

The slick sound draws the maid’s eyes up to where they connect, where Todoroki takes him in, making him stay, keeping Katsuki as his. Color flushes her face. She splutters, looking scandalized.

Katsuki grips his hips, torn between being outraged that she’s fucking seeing a part of his mate that should be only for his eyes and turned on as fuck at Todoroki’s possessive claim. 

“You should apologize,” Todoroki says, tilting his head to watch her. His eyes are icy and bright, and Katsuki’s heart pounds, the Moon calling to the wildness in his blood again. The maid begins to protest, but crimson seeps into Todoroki’s eyes. “I said, apologize.”

Katsuki hardens. His cock pulses, and his fingers clench.

Her limbs jerk like invisible puppet strings pulling taut. “I . . . I apologize,” she says stiltedly, her body even stiffer. She folds into a low bow. “That was . . . very rude of me. Please forgive me.”

There is silence. It takes a moment before Katsuki realizes Todoroki is waiting for his reaction, but he does not give a damn about the meddling maid anymore. He needs to fuck. Now. And he does not want an audience. “Sho,” he growls, nosing the curve of Todoroki’s shoulder. Unable to help himself, he grinds up.

Todoroki’s hips buck underneath his palms. “You’re dismissed," Todoroki manages out, voice breathy. "Make sure no one bothers us.”

Katsuki waits until the maid’s footsteps disappear before he flips them and thrusts, sharp and brutal. Todoroki moans, body jerking with the force. “You’re fucking beautiful,” he snarls into Todoroki’s mouth, resuming his pace. The lingering taste of his blood on Todoroki’s tongue only provokes him further. He wants.

The hunger throbs in between his teeth, buzzes sharp in his palms and belly. He drives his cock back inside, fucking Todoroki into the cushions. His mate is still so fucking warm and wet and tight. Fuck. Katsuki pants. Heat hazes out his mind, pleasure burning through all of his senses.

“Mm? Ka-Katsuki, what is that?” 

Katsuki struggles to make sense of the question. What is what? He catches Todoroki’s wide eyes darting down, and — Oh. His knot. Distantly, he can feel fur whisking across the back of his legs. His tail is out too. He usually has better control. 

Except when he is in rut. 

Is he in rut? He blinks, finding it really fucking hard to think of anything beyond Todoroki on his cock.  He feels like he is in rut. He — 

“Katsuki?”

Before he can reassure Todoroki that it’s fine, that he won’t knot him, Todoroki shifts up and swivels away. Katsuki slips out of him. The cool night kisses his cock, and it’s fucking freezing compared to Todoroki’s silk heat squeezing him tight. A whine catches in his throat. He’s so fucking close. “Sho, please,” he rasps out, desperate. “I won’t knot you if you don’t want it. I fucking swear —”

Todoroki turns on his belly, and it's a fucking perfect picture of submission. Blood roars in Katsuki’s ears, desire pulsing so sharp that it nearly rends him in two. Katsuki wets his lips, throat dry.

“Here. It’ll be easier like this,” Todoroki pants out. He reaches back, pulling a cheek and baring his sloppy, gaping hole. “Knot me, alpha,” Todoroki begs without a damn for Katsuki’s splintering control. “Please. Want to feel it. Want to feel you fucking my belly full. Come — Come in me. Mark me inside too. Make me messy and — and  wet with it. I’ll keep it in, keep all of you inside, I promise.”

“You fucking slut,” he curses. He plunges back inside, and Todoroki wails, knees buckling. "Do you even know what a knot is for? Huh?" He hauls Todoroki’s hips up, pinning him on his cock, and presses deeper, harder. "It's for breeding. For putting a pup in you. Making sure my seed fucking takes." He slides his palm under and presses it into Todoroki’s belly as he fucks in. Todoroki whimpers, shaking at the fullness. It’s not fucking possible, Katsuki knows. He doesn’t even want pups, but some part of him revels in the thought all the same, in the image of Todoroki's belly round and soft like if he fucks Todoroki hard enough, then maybe he would carry. "We won't need to announce our bond. Not when you're stuffed full with my cock and come. You already reek of me, you know that? They'll smell it when you walk in. You'll be leaking for days, sweetheart." A growl rumbles at the back of his throat. He pounds faster, pushing at Todoroki’s fluttering rim. "Everyone will know you’re fucking mine."

"Please, please," Todoroki hitches out, face pressed into the pillow.

It takes two, three more thrusts, and his fat knot finally pops in. Todoroki screams, body spasming and cock spurting all over the cushions. The vice grip on his cock has Katsuki moaning. Pleasure flares, a burning buzz that jolts down his spine, sparking all the way to his fingertips, and explodes right into his climax. His teeth closes around soft skin, and he comes so hard that his senses white out.

When he comes to, he can taste blood on his tongue again. There is a bleeding bite mark on Todoroki’s nape. Licking it over, he wraps his arms around Todoroki and shifts them on their side, careful not to let his knot tug at Todoroki too much.

Todoroki still lets out a soft whimper. 

"Sorry," Katsuki soothes, kissing his nape. "You okay?"

"You’re still — still coming inside," Todoroki hiccups. Katsuki can feel his cock pulsing inside even now. He muffles a groan. Fuck, Todoroki is so warm and wet now, slicked only further by Katsuki’s own come. He could stay like this, locked inside his mate, forever.

Todoroki moves his hand down and cups the slight swell of his belly. Katsuki's cock twitches. He'd fuck him again, if he wasn't wrung out of everything he had.

As it is, he only holds Todoroki closer and laces their hands together. "It'll go down soon," he says hoarsely. "Does it hurt, Sho?" He strokes over Todoroki's knuckles. "You okay?" he presses, a little fucking worried now because he still has not gotten an answer. Maybe he shouldn’t have knotted him so soon.

Todoroki nods. He draws Katsuki's arm up higher and over his chest like a blanket. "Yes," he says, voice slurring. He curls up into the curve of Katsuki's body. 

Protectiveness tightens Katsuki's chest, heart clenching hard. He presses a kiss behind Todoroki’s ear and another to his cheek. 

Todoroki sighs out, "I'm good. Feels nice." He makes a sleepy sound. "I'm glad you're my first."

"Mm." Eyelids heavy, Katsuki buries his face into Todoroki’s locks, breathing him in. It soothes him instantly, and he relaxes. Wait. He blinks rapidly. First? "You mean, first wolf? Or . . . knot?" he hazards, trying to catch Todoroki’s gaze. There's no fucking way he is Todoroki’s first first.

"Hm?" Todoroki turns his head, blinking blearily over his shoulder. "You're the first person I had sex with."

Possessiveness and triumph shamefully grips him at the fact that Todoroki only knows his touch before Katsuki catches himself. He drops his head down onto Todoroki’s shoulder with a groan.

The old hag is going to fucking murder him when she learns that he took his mate’s virginity within five fucking minutes of meeting him. And in the bloody fucking gazebo, no less. 

"Katsuki? What's wrong?"

"You wanna have dinner tomorrow?" he tries. "Spend the night out and — shit, I don't know what the fuck's here." He never stays long in the vampire capital. "But we can do whatever you want, yeah?"

Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero won't object to staying for a couple days. Katsuki frowns. Probably not a week though. He still has shit that needs to be taken care of back home.

Todoroki blinks.

Shit. Heat crawls up his neck. He looks away and mutters, "Only if you want to. We did this all fucking backward, you know."

There is a pause before a sharp elbow stabs his side, and Todoroki is an inch away from his fucking nose, trying to look him in the eye. "Are you courting me?" 

"What the fuck do you think, idiot?" Katsuki bites out, a little defensive. 

"People usually bring flowers when they ask."

Katsuki's eyes narrow. He's not sure if that means Todoroki had past suitors or if that is how fated vampire pairs court. He scowls. "We're in a fucking garden. There is a whole shitload of flowers, princess. You turning me down or —"

"Yes," Todoroki blurts out. They both blink. "I mean, no," he amends. He looks up, fearless and determined, and Katsuki falls a little more in love with him. "Court me, Katsuki."

Katsuki grins despite himself. 

"But . . ." Todoroki bites his lips. A small furrow etches between his brows.

Katsuki waits, but no further explanation comes. "But what?" he asks warily. 

Todoroki shifts, and the tug on Katsuki's knot startles a moan out of the both of them. "Can we do this again too?" he asks innocently, cheeks flushing a pretty pink again. "Even though we're courting?"

"Yeah," Katsuki croaks out.

Todoroki glances down, face creasing in contemplation. "Again, after we sleep?" Todoroki asks, tilting his head up.

Fuck.

"Whatever you want," he says weakly.

He has a feeling those words will be coming out of his mouth a lot more often now.