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Turns out, capitalism doesn’t discriminate between the living and the undead. The system’s simple. Humans sell their blood, vamps buy it, everyone’s happy.
But then there’s Donor Connect. Fancy name for what’s basically a vampire sugar daddy program. You sign up, get tested for compatibility, and bam! If you’re lucky—or unlucky, depending on your point of view—you get matched with a vampire who drinks straight from the source. They pay you, you bleed a little—mutually beneficial.
Atsumu Miya signed up for it two years ago. Why? Because he was broke as fuck. Like, couch-surfing, ramen-stealing, sell-your-soul broke. The kind of broke that makes you think, “Hey, maybe being a living Capri Sun for some rich vamp isn’t the worst idea.” And good for him, Atsumu was exactly what the system was looking for: high energy, athletic build, healthy as hell—perfect donor material. And who’s his match?
Sakusa Kiyoomi.
When Atsumu first got the notification about his match, he didn’t know what to expect. Maybe some rich, stuck-up heir with a superiority complex and a penchant for vintage capes. Someone who’d smirk down at him and say something dramatic like, I hope you taste better than you look.
But Sakusa didn’t even bother with that kind of flair.
Their first meeting had been memorable, to say the least.
Sakusa walked into the room with the kind of quiet confidence that made everyone turn to look, his posture so straight it could’ve been used to measure angles. He had this aura—like he was above everything and everyone. Atsumu barely had time to plaster on his most winning smile before Sakusa’s dark eyes flicked to him.
And then came the look.
It wasn’t anger or arrogance—it was worse. Pure, unfiltered disappointment and disgust. Like Atsumu was the wrong order at a five-star restaurant.
“You’re sure this is my match?” Sakusa asked the coordinator, his voice even but cold enough to make Atsumu’s ears burn.
Atsumu tried to recover with his usual charm. He stuck out his hand, grinning despite the creeping irritation. “Hey, Sakusa, right? Atsumu Miya. Nice to meetcha.”
Sakusa’s gaze dropped to Atsumu’s hand, lingered for half a second, then returned to the coordinator. “Is shaking hands mandatory?”
Atsumu had never wanted to crawl into a hole so badly—or more like punch someone in the face. And that was the start of their very mutually beneficial relationship.
But the thing was, in two whole years, Sakusa had never actually drunk Atsumu’s blood. Not once. The first time it was supposed to happen, Atsumu had psyched himself up for it. He’d stood in Sakusa’s annoyingly minimalist, perfect-looking apartment, his hands sweating like he was about to jump off a cliff. Sakusa had walked in, looking as effortlessly pristine as ever, glanced at Atsumu, and said the most baffling thing Atsumu had ever heard. “Put a bandage on your neck and leave in fifteen minutes.”
Atsumu had blinked. “What?”
Sakusa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like Atsumu was an idiot. “A bandage. On your neck. Fifteen minutes. Go.”
Before Atsumu could even think to argue, Sakusa tossed a roll of cash onto the counter—more than the usual payment, way more—and walked out of the room.
Atsumu stood there for a good thirty seconds, jaw slack, before muttering, “Okay, what the actual fuck?” But he wasn’t dumb. Money was money, and if Sakusa wanted him to stick a bandaid on and disappear, who was Atsumu to argue?
So, he did as he was told. He slapped a bandaid over his neck, set a timer for fifteen minutes, and left without a word. From that day on, it became a weird routine. Sakusa paid him like clockwork, but whatever “drinking from the source” was supposed to be, it wasn’t happening. But he was smart enough not to ask questions.
Two years of being paid to, well, not do much, really.
He didn’t know what Sakusa’s deal was, but whatever it was, it had turned Atsumu’s life around. He’d been barely scraping by, living off instant noodles and borrowing his teammates’ Netflix passwords. Now he had actual savings. Savings! The kind that meant he didn’t have to think twice about ordering takeout or splurging on concert tickets. His fridge was stocked with real food—actual vegetables, even—and he didn’t have to skip meals because he was too broke to afford lunch. He’d paid off his credit card debt, upgraded his phone, and even treated himself to a pair of ridiculously overpriced sneakers he’d been eyeing for months.
And yet, despite all the perks, Atsumu couldn’t quite shake the feeling. That tiny, nagging voice in the back of his head. Because as much as he enjoyed this strange, easy arrangement, he knew that nothing in life was this simple. Not for long, anyway.
And the confirmation came on a Monday in the middle of November.
Atsumu had just settled onto the couch, the comforting weight of a blanket draped over his legs, a half-eaten bag of chips on the coffee table in front of him. The air was crisp outside, the kind that nipped at your skin even through layers, and he was perfectly content not to leave his apartment for some time.
Then came the knock.
Three sharp raps, loud enough to echo through his small space but not frantic. Atsumu frowned, glancing at the clock. It was nearly midnight. Not exactly prime visiting hours.
Dragging himself off the couch, he shuffled toward the door, pausing only to peer through the peephole. His stomach twisted.
Sakusa stood there, his hood pulled low over his face, his shoulders hunched in a way Atsumu had never seen before. Even through the distorted fisheye lens, Atsumu could tell something was wrong. The usual fancy composure Sakusa carried himself with? Gone. His skin looked pale, almost ashen, and his usually sharp gaze was dulled.
Atsumu yanked the door open without thinking. “Oi, Sakusa, what the hell—”
Sakusa stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, moving past Atsumu like he hadn’t even heard him. His movements were stiff, like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.
“Close the door,” Sakusa said, his voice low and rasping, like it had been dragged across gravel.
“What—? Are you okay?” Atsumu asked, watching as Sakusa pulled the hood down, revealing a face even paler than he’d expected. His skin had this strange, almost grayish tint, and there were dark shadows under his eyes. He looked off.
“I need—” Sakusa began, but his words faltered. He swayed slightly, one hand reaching out to steady himself against the wall.
Atsumu slammed the door close and rushed forward on instinct, grabbing his arm. “Hey, whoa, sit down or somethin’. You look like you’re about to keel over.”
Sakusa didn’t argue for once, letting Atsumu guide him to the couch without a single snarky comment or overly dramatic sigh. That alone was enough to send alarm bells ringing in Atsumu’s head. Sakusa? Not complaining about touching the “germ-ridden” furniture in his apartment? Something was definitely up.
The moment Sakusa sank into the cushions, Atsumu could see it—the faintest release of tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw unclenched just slightly.
Okay, that’s good? Atsumu thought, though the tiny knot of unease in his chest didn’t loosen.
Stepping back, Atsumu straightened, folding his arms as he stood beside the couch. His mouth opened to ask the question burning in his throat—what the hell is going on with you?—but then Sakusa’s eyes met his.
It wasn’t just a glance—it was weird.
His dark eyes were locked onto him, unblinking, his head tilted ever so slightly. There was something in his gaze Atsumu couldn’t quite place, something sharp and focused, like he was trying to see beneath the surface.
“Uh, Sakusa?” Atsumu ventured, raising an eyebrow.
Sakusa didn’t reply. Instead, his neck extended just a little further, his nose twitching slightly as he sniffed.
Atsumu blinked. Then blinked again. “Are—are you sniffin’ me?”
“No,” Sakusa said flatly, as if Atsumu was the crazy one for even suggesting it.
Atsumu’s jaw dropped. “You’re sniffin’ me!”
“I am not sniffing you,” Sakusa snapped, looking affronted, but there was a faint flush creeping up his pale cheeks that said otherwise.
“Oh, this is golden,” Atsumu said, crossing his arms and grinning despite himself. “Two years of you actin’ like I’m some kind of unsanitary health hazard, and now you’re sittin’ on my couch, sniffin’ me like some kinda stray dog.” Atsumu dropped into the armchair next to the couch, one hand resting on the armrest while the other raked through his hair.
Sakusa rolled his eyes, the flush on his cheeks deepening, but his voice was steady, almost clipped when he finally spoke. “I need to drink.”
Atsumu’s grin froze. His brain caught up a second later, and the implications hit him like a truck. Because when a vampire said they needed to drink, it wasn’t exactly open to interpretation.
He shifted uneasily in his chair, leaning back just slightly, his hand twitching as if he was debating whether or not to make a break for the door. “Uh, when you say drink,” he started, his tone awkwardly light, a nervous chuckle bubbling out of him. “Like, how are we talkin’ here? Water? Coffee? A nice, vintage red?”
Sakusa’s expression didn’t waver. If anything, it grew sharper, his eyes dark and unyielding. “You know what I mean.”
Atsumu swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. Of course he knew. The fact that Sakusa was standing here, in his apartment, asking him for this, meant something. Something big. But instead of dealing with the growing knot of tension in his chest, he plastered on a nervous smile.
“Yeah, uh, you’re gonna have to spell it out for me,” he said, his voice pitching slightly higher than usual. “Because I don’t think I’m followin’.”
Sakusa sighed, his jaw clenching as he rubbed a hand over his face. “I need your blood,” he said, each word slow and deliberate, as if speaking to a particularly dense child.
Atsumu froze, his mouth hanging open like a fish gasping for air. “Oh.”
It wasn’t exactly eloquent, but what the hell else was he supposed to say?
Atsumu cleared his throat, the sound awkward and too loud in the tense silence of the room. “Right, yeah, of course,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze darted anywhere but Sakusa’s face. “I mean, that’s the whole point of this, ain’t it? I’m your donor. You need blood, you get blood.”
He chuckled nervously, his foot tapping against the floor as he forced himself to meet Sakusa’s unflinching stare. “But, uh, if it’s not too much to ask, why now? Not that I’m complainin’ or anything! Just, y’know, this—” he gestured vaguely between them “—isn’t exactly our usual routine.”
Sakusa’s eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”
Atsumu’s nervous smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of irritation. “Uh, yeah, I think you kinda do,” he said, his tone sharpening. “You show up at my door, lookin’ like you’ve been dragged through a graveyard, askin’ for my blood in the middle of the night, and you don’t think I deserve, like, a little bit of context?”
Sakusa’s jaw tightened, his voice cold as ice. “You’re my donor. That’s all the context you need.”
Atsumu scoffed, leaning forward in his chair and pointing at him. “Okay, first of all, rude. Second, I’ve been your donor for two years, and you’ve never once actually drank my blood. So yeah, I think I’m allowed to be a little curious when you suddenly decide tonight’s the night!”
Sakusa’s gaze didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something—guilt, maybe?—in the way his shoulders tensed. “It’s not your concern.”
“Oh, it’s not my concern?” Atsumu shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re literally about to sink your teeth into my neck, and it’s not my concern?”
“Stop being dramatic,” Sakusa snapped, his voice low but cutting.
“Me? Dramatic?” Atsumu laughed, the sound sharp and disbelieving. “You’re the one who barged into my apartment like some kinda broody vampire cliché!”
Sakusa’s lips twitched, like he was fighting back a retort, but he said nothing, his dark eyes locked on Atsumu’s face.
Atsumu leaned back, crossing his arms with a huff. “Look, I’ll do it, okay? I just—I think I deserve to know what’s goin’ on here. You don’t just up and change the rules without givin’ a guy a heads-up.”
For a moment, Sakusa didn’t respond. Then, finally, he let out a long, slow breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. “It’s complicated.”
Atsumu raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Yeah, no kidding. Care to elaborate?”
Sakusa glared at him, but there was less bite to it this time. “No.”
Atsumu groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re funny, you know that?”
“Are you going to let me feed or not?” Sakusa snapped, the flush creeping back into his cheeks.
Atsumu stared at him for a long moment, his expression a mix of disbelief and reluctant resignation. Finally, he sighed and threw his hands up. “Okay, fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
Sakusa’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, but his face remained as unreadable as ever. “Go shower.”
Atsumu blinked, taken aback. “What?”
“You heard me,” Sakusa said, his tone as curt as always. “Go shower.”
Atsumu gawked at him. “I already showered today.”
Sakusa’s jaw tightened, his gaze unwavering. “Then shower again.”
“Are you—are you serious right now?” Atsumu asked, his voice pitching in incredulity. “I’m about to let you bite me, and you’re worried about whether I smell like a damn daisy?”
“It’s not about that,” Sakusa replied sharply, crossing his arms. “It’s about hygiene.”
“Hygiene,” Atsumu echoed flatly, leaning back in his chair.
“Yes.”
Atsumu let out a disbelieving laugh, but he stood up, shaking his head as he made his way toward the bathroom. “Fine, whatever. You want me squeaky clean? You got it, your majesty.”
So, five minutes later, Atsumu reappeared, a fresh clothes clinging to his shoulders. “There. Happy now?” he muttered, running the towel over his wet hair as he shuffled back into the room.
Sakusa, who hadn’t moved an inch from his spot on the couch, turned his head toward Atsumu with the same unreadable expression. “Did you read the protocols?”
Atsumu paused mid-step, the towel still in his hand. “The what?”
“The protocols,” Sakusa repeated, his voice slow and deliberate, like he was speaking to someone particularly dense.
Atsumu blinked at him, then let out a dry laugh. “Pfft, no. Who actually reads those? They’re, like, a million pages long and boring as hell.”
Sakusa sighed. “Of course you didn’t,” he muttered under his breath.
“Hey, in my defense, if it was that important, someone should’ve just told me,” Atsumu said, plopping into the chair across from Sakusa agan and flinging the towel onto the armrest.
Sakusa gave him a pointed look, his fingers drumming once against his knee. “I’m certain someone did tell you to read it.”
Atsumu shrugged, completely unbothered. “Maybe?”
Sakusa pinched the bridge of his nose and closed eyes for a second, looking like he genuinely regretted every decision that led to this moment. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as if he were trying to summon every ounce of patience left in his body. When he opened his eyes again, he looked at Atsumu with an intensity that made the blond straighten slightly in his chair.
“First,” Sakusa continued, leaning forward slightly, “you’ll feel a sting when I bite. It’s comparable to a needle. Brief, but noticeable.”
“Okay, no big deal,” Atsumu said, nodding as if he were taking notes in a lecture. “Needles I can handle. Continue, professor.”
Sakusa ignored him, his voice steady as he went on. “Once my fangs pierce your skin, they’ll release venom into your bloodstream. It’s harmless to humans, but it will trigger a reaction.”
Atsumu squinted at him. “Like what? I’m not gonna, like, pass out or somethin’, am I?”
“No,” Sakusa said, though his lips pressed into a thin line like he was bracing for the inevitable follow-up questions. “You’ll experience euphoria.”
Atsumu blinked. Then, with all the subtlety of a brick wall, he leaned forward and grinned. “Wait, you’re tellin’ me I’m gonna get high from this?”
Sakusa’s jaw tightened, his voice losing a fraction of its patience. “It’s a natural response. Temporary. And it’s not a ‘high’ in the recreational sense—”
“Oh, my god,” Atsumu cut him off, a laugh bubbling out of him. “Why the hell haven’t we been doin’ this the whole time?”
“Because it’s not recreational,” Sakusa snapped, his eyes narrowing. “And because I haven’t needed to.”
“Well, lucky me,” Atsumu said, leaning back with an easy grin. “Sounds like I’m about to have a great time.”
Sakusa groaned softly, dragging a hand down his face. “Can you take this seriously for one minute?”
“I showered twice for this,” Atsumu shot back, still grinning. “That’s about as serious as I get.”
Sakusa muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse before straightening up again, his expression hardening. “You’ll also feel drowsy afterward. That’s normal. It’s your body’s way of recovering.”
“Got it,” Atsumu said, nodding like he was gearing up for a marathon.
Sakusa paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he seemed to weigh his words carefully. His fingers tapped against his thigh again, and he looked more uncomfortable than before.
Atsumu raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Sakusa hesitated, his gaze flicking to the side, then back to Atsumu. He cleared his throat, his usual composed tone faltering ever so slightly. “There is one more thing.”
“Okay,” Atsumu said slowly, tilting his head.
Sakusa’s lips pressed into a thin line. “The venom affects the nervous system. It heightens sensations.”
Atsumu blinked at him, his face blank. “Uh, yeah, I got that part.”
Sakusa sighed, his shoulders visibly stiffening as he avoided Atsumu’s gaze. “It’s more than that. It can stimulate certain responses.”
Atsumu frowned, squinting at him like Sakusa had just started speaking a different language. “I’m gonna start cryin’ or somethin’?”
“No,” Sakusa snapped, his voice a touch sharper now. His jaw clenched, his tone more measured. “It’s possible you may experience a physical reaction.”
Atsumu stared at him, completely lost. “Physical reaction? Just say it already.”
Sakusa’s jaw tightened further, his usual calm exterior threatening to crack. “It might excite you.”
Silence hung in the air for a moment as Atsumu processed the words. Then, with a slow blink, he leaned forward, his brow furrowing. “Like adrenaline?”
Sakusa groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “No.”
“Okay, so, not adrenaline,” Atsumu muttered, nodding like he was working through a puzzle. “So, what, I’m gonna feel like runnin’ a marathon or—”
“Sexual arousal,” Sakusa interrupted, his voice flat but laced with frustration.
Atsumu froze mid-thought, his mouth hanging open for a beat too long. “Wait. What?”
Sakusa’s eyes darted away again, his composure cracking just slightly. “It’s a potential side effect. Not guaranteed.”
Atsumu blinked once. Then twice. “You’re kiddin’.”
“I’m not,” Sakusa said, his tone clipped.
“Oh, my god,” Atsumu finally breathed, leaning back in his chair and letting out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re tellin’ me I might—while you’re—” He couldn’t even finish the sentence, his grin equal parts amused and horrified.
“It’s just a possibility,” Sakusa cut in, his voice sharp and defensive.
Atsumu groaned, dragging his hands over his face and letting them settle there, his voice muffled as he muttered, “Oh my god, I wanna die. Just bury me right here.”
Sakusa rolled his eyes, his tone sharp as ever. “It’s not a big deal.”
Atsumu peeked out from between his fingers, his expression a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “You just told me there’s a chance I’m gonna get a boner while you’re drinkin’ my blood. How am I supposed to stay normal about this?”
“It’s a side effect,” Sakusa said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms. “Not a certainty.”
“Oh, cool, that totally helps,” Atsumu said, dropping his hands and glaring at him. “So it’s like, ‘Hey Atsumu, you might not get embarrassed for the rest of your life, but then again, you might.’ Great odds.”
Sakusa sighed, his patience visibly wearing thin. “It’s a physiological reaction. It’s not personal.”
“Not personal?” Atsumu spun around. “You’re gonna bite me! How is that not personal?”
Sakusa didn’t flinch, his face a perfect mask of indifference. “Do you want me to leave?”
Atsumu froze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Finally, he let out a frustrated groan, flopping back into his chair and rubbing his temples. “No, don’t leave. Just give me a second to process the fact that this might be the weirdest night of my life.”
Sakusa watched him, his expression unreadable. “Take your time,” he said flatly, though there was a faint twitch of his lips, like he was holding back amusement.
Atsumu shot him a look from between his fingers. “Oh, don’t you dare smile. You’re the one makin’ this awkward, not me.”
“I’m not smiling,” Sakusa replied coolly, though the tiniest curve at the corner of his lips suggested otherwise.
Atsumu groaned one last time for good measure as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay,” he muttered, like he was bracing himself for impact. “Let’s just do it and get it over with before I lose my nerve.” He sat up, rubbing his hands over his face, then spread his arms dramatically. “How do you want me?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Atsumu froze, his eyes widening as the unintended meaning hit him like a slap. “Oh my god, no, wait!” Atsumu yelped, his face turning beet red as he waved his hands frantically. “That’s not what I meant! I meant, like, how do you want me to sit or—or stand or—or whatever! Not—not that!”
Sakusa’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” he said coolly, though his tone carried a trace of amusement.
Atsumu groaned, burying his face in his hands again. “I hate this. I hate you. I hate everything about this.”
“I’ll remind you that you agreed to this.”
“Oh, shut up. Just tell me what to do so we can pretend this conversation never happened.”
Sakusa tilted his head slightly, fixing Atsumu with a look so intense it could’ve melted steel. “Come here,” he said, his voice low and deliberate.
Atsumu froze, his entire brain screeching to a halt. Excuse me?
Did he just—no, there’s no way. He didn’t say it like that. Did he? Atsumu’s face heated up, and he blinked at Sakusa, half-expecting the vampire to break into a smirk or laugh or—God help him—wiggle his eyebrows suggestively. But Sakusa just sat there, all calm and composed, like he hadn’t just delivered those two words in the most unnecessarily suggestive tone imaginable.
Get it together, Atsumu. He’s a bloodsucking freak, not some kinda romance novel bad boy.
“Did you not hear me?” Sakusa asked, raising an eyebrow as his gaze remained locked on Atsumu.
“Oh, I heard you,” Atsumu blurted, hands twitching at his sides.
Sakusa’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Atsumu swore he detected a flicker of impatience. “Sit,” Sakusa said, nodding toward the spot next to him on the couch.
For a moment, Atsumu didn’t move. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to—it was that he couldn’t. His brain had officially blue-screened. All he could do was sit there, staring at Sakusa like he’d just asked him to solve a complex math equation in front of a live audience. After what felt like eternity, he finally pushed himself to his feet with all the enthusiasm of someone walking to their own funeral.
His legs felt like jelly as he shuffled over to the couch, his heart thudding embarrassingly loud in his ears. Why is this so nerve-wracking? It’s just a couch. Next to a vampire. Who’s gonna bite me.
Atsumu plopped down onto the cushion next to Sakusa, careful to leave a good amount of space between them. He stared straight ahead, determined not to meet Sakusa’s eyes.
“Turn around,” Sakusa instructed.
Atsumu frowned, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “Turn around? Why?”
Sakusa’s expression didn’t waver. “It’s easier if you’re facing the other way.”
For some reason, that made Atsumu’s face heat up again. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but his stomach did a weird flip. Reluctantly, he shifted, turning his back to Sakusa. “This is so weird,” he muttered under his breath.
“Take off your shirt,” Sakusa said evenly, as if it were the most normal request in the world.
Atsumu froze again, his eyes widening. “What?!” he yelped, whipping his head around to glare at Sakusa. “Why do I gotta take off my shirt?”
“Because it will get in the way,” Sakusa replied calmly, as though explaining something to a child. “And it’ll end up covered in blood.”
Atsumu stared at him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Covered in blood? That didn’t sound comforting at all.
His brain, being the absolute menace that it was, chose that exact moment to dredge up a memory he didn’t ask for. This feels like that time with that one girl. The one-night stand where eye contact had felt way too intimate, so he’d gone for the safest option: keeping things strictly back-facing. Nope, nope, nope. Not the same. Don’t even go there.
Atsumu opened his mouth to say something, but quickly realized he didn’t have a better comeback. Huffing, he reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it off in one quick motion and tossing it onto the floor with more force than necessary.
“Happy now?” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Don’t cross your arms,” Sakusa said, his tone clipped. “You’ll need to relax your shoulders.”
“Of course I do,” Atsumu muttered, shifting to sit up straighter, his hands dropping into his lap. “Anything else, your highness? Should I dim the lights? Play some mood music?”
“Stop talking,” Sakusa said simply, leaning closer.
Atsumu clamped his mouth shut so fast his teeth clicked. He could feel Sakusa’s presence behind him now—closer than he’d expected. There wasn’t warmth like a regular person’s breath, but it wasn’t cold either. It was just there, brushing against the back of his neck in a way that made his skin prickle.
He swallowed hard, staring straight ahead at the empty wall like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. His heart was beating so loud he was pretty sure Sakusa could hear it. Is that a thing vampires can do? Hear heartbeats? Great, he’s probably listening to me lose my shit right now. Fantastic.
“You’re too tense,” Sakusa said, his voice calm but close enough that Atsumu felt it vibrate just slightly in the air.
“I’m totally fine.” Atsumu chuckled nervously, his hands gripping his thighs so tight his knuckles went white.
“You’re not fine,” Sakusa interrupted, his tone dry. “I can feel it.”
Atsumu froze, his face heating up even more. Feel it? Feel what?! His brain went into overdrive, spiraling into places it definitely shouldn’t have gone.
Sakusa sighed softly, the sound brushing over Atsumu’s shoulder. “Biting into someone who’s tense is unpleasant. It’s better if you relax.”
Atsumu snapped his head around to gape at him. “Unpleasant?! What am I, a tough steak?”
Sakusa’s expression didn’t change. If anything, he looked slightly annoyed. “You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.”
“Yeah, well, excuse me for not bein’ a pro at this!” Atsumu shot back, gesturing wildly at himself. “It’s not like I do this every day!”
“Clearly,” Sakusa said, his tone cool and even.
Atsumu let out a frustrated groan, turning back around and trying to focus on literally anything other than the vampire looming behind him. “Alright, fine. Relax. Got it. Thinkin’ relaxing thoughts. Puppies. Beaches.”
“You’re still tense,” Sakusa noted flatly, and Atsumu felt the lightest brush of fingers at the back of his shoulder, like Sakusa was checking just how much he was failing at relaxing.
Atsumu jolted at the contact, his brain kicking into full panic mode. Why is this weirdly intimate? This shouldn’t be intimate. It’s just a bite. A casual, blood-sucking bite. Totally normal. Everyone does this, right?
“I swear, I’m tryin’!” Atsumu muttered, his voice a little higher than usual.
“Try harder,” Sakusa said evenly, his presence still looming. “Otherwise, this will hurt more than it needs to.”
Oh, great, Atsumu thought, his palms clammy. No pressure or anything.
Atsumu squeezed his eyes shut, his hands gripping his thighs like they were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. Alright, Atsumu, pull it together. You’re not gonna die. He’s not gonna drain you dry. Probably.
He took a deep breath, then another, the sound loud and shaky in the otherwise quiet room. Slowly, the buzz of panic in his head began to dim. Not much, but enough that the imaginary flashing red lights started to flicker out.
Okay. Okay. Not dying. Not freaking out. Just sittin’ here on my couch, lettin’ a vampire bite me like it’s the most normal thing in the world. No big deal. Totally fine. You’ve got this.
When his breathing evened out, he dared to crack one eye open. The wall in front of him hadn’t changed, still as dull and neutral as ever. He focused on it like it was some kind of lifeline. See? Everything’s fine. Just a wall. Just a couch. Just—
“Better,” Sakusa said, his voice low and quiet, breaking Atsumu’s train of thought.
Atsumu almost jumped out of his skin at the sound, his eyes snapping shut again. “Jesus, warn a guy, would ya?”
“You knew I was here,” Sakusa replied. “You’re less tense now. Stay like that.”
Atsumu opened his mouth, but then the words vanished. Gone. Poof. Just like his dignity. The sharp press of Sakusa’s fangs sank into the tender spot where his neck met his shoulder, and Atsumu froze like a deer in headlights. It didn’t hurt—not really. It stung, sure, but it wasn’t the bad kind of sting. It was more like a pinch that ran deeper than it should’ve, enough to steal the breath right outta his lungs. And holy shit, it was weird. His brain scrambled to keep up, ping-ponging between what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck and don’t freak out, don’t freak out. And the sensations weren’t helping. A warm, spreading pull was building from the bite, and it was like—he didn’t even know how to describe it. It wasn’t like he thought it’d be. No messy chomping, no gross slobber.
Just smooth and calculated.
At first, it wasn’t even noticeable. Atsumu was still hanging on—barely—but he was there. His brain was still running in circles, screaming at him to keep it together, even if his body was starting to betray him. Then the shift started. Subtle at first, like someone sneaking up and yanking the rug out from under him in slow motion.
The tight coil in his chest started loosening, like someone had reached in and cranked the tension dial down a few notches. His breaths came slower, deeper, like his lungs had finally stopped hyperventilating without checking in with the rest of him.
The feeling from the bite spread further, seeping into his shoulders and sliding down his spine, like liquid sunshine had decided to take up residence in his body. It was nice? Too nice. Nice in a way that immediately set off alarms in the one functioning corner of his brain. Nope. Don’t like this. Too comfortable. Too weird. Abort. Abort.
But apparently, his body wasn’t listening anymore. His head dipped forward slightly, the weight of it catching him off guard. Oh, cool. Guess I don’t have a neck now.
The warmth wasn’t just spreading now—it was thickening, like syrup pouring through his veins, weighing down his limbs until they felt like they didn’t even belong to him. His legs went first, then his arms, then, oh, cool, the rest of him.
And then Atsumu’s body moved, not of his own volition, but because Sakusa’s arm had wrapped firmly around his middle, tugging him against a solid, chest. Wait, what—
Another hand settled at the side of his head, fingers threading into his hair with a touch so light it sent a shiver down his spine. Sakusa tilted Atsumu’s head back further, guiding him until the back of his skull rested against Sakusa’s shoulder. After that his hand shifted, his palm pressing over Atsumu’s eyes, blocking out the dim light of the room completely.
Atsumu tensed instinctively for a split second.
What’s he doin’? Why’s he coverin’ my—
Every logical part of him was screaming at him to do something. Push Sakusa away. Say something. Anything. But instead, he let his eyes slip closed beneath Sakusa’s hand.
It wasn’t trust—not exactly. It was more like he didn’t have the energy to care anymore.
Atsumu’s lips parted slightly, and before he could stop himself, a sound escaped. It was quiet, rough, halfway between a sigh and a groan—and it was mortifying. The moment it happened, his brain short-circuited. Oh my god. What the fuck was that? Was that me? Did I just make that noise?
It echoed in the silence of the room like a goddamn fire alarm, bouncing around in his skull and making his face heat up so fast he swore he was gonna combust.
No. Nope. Not happening. That did NOT happen.
His lips stayed open, and another shaky exhale slipped out, weaker this time but still enough to make him want to yeet himself into the orbit.
Why can’t I keep my stupid mouth shut? WHY?
His head tilted back just a little more, like his body had completely given up on dignity, and another sound started creeping up his throat. No. No. No. Don’t you fucking dare—
Too late.
A softer, breathier sound spilled out, and Atsumu swore his soul left his body. Great. I’m not even gonna die from blood loss. I’m gonna die of sheer, unfiltered humiliation.
His hands twitched at his thighs, like they were thinking about saving him, but nope—too heavy. They were useless, just like the rest of him.
And then it hit him.
That slow, creeping heat slithered lower, pooling in his stomach before sinking further, and Atsumu just—
Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Not this. Not now. Not because of him.
It wasn’t unfamiliar—it wasn’t like Atsumu didn’t know exactly what was happening. He’d felt this a million times before. But it was happening now, with Sakusa’s fangs in his neck and his goddamn hand covering Atsumu’s eyes like this was some kinda fucking scene. His breath stuttered, catching in his throat as his body betrayed him in the most humiliating way possible. His spine arched slightly, pressing his back into Sakusa’s chest without permission, and his jaw clenched so hard it ached.
Jesus Christ. Stop it. Fucking stop it. This isn’t happening. It’s just the venom. Just a side effect. This isn’t real. Fuck.
But his body didn’t listen. It never fucking listened. And another shaky breath slipped past his lips, too loud, too telling, and he felt the muscles in his thighs twitch like they were begging for something. His skin felt hot and cold all at once, his nerves firing off every goddamn signal they could, and all Atsumu could do was sit there and fucking take it. And that asshole didn’t move. His hand stayed pressed over Atsumu’s eyes, his grip on his waist firm, steady—unfazed, like he didn’t have a fucking clue what kind of disaster was unfolding against him. Or worse—like he did know and just wasn’t gonna acknowledge it.
Oh my fucking god, he knows. He has to know. He’s gotta feel me—feel this—Jesus fucking Christ, I’m gonna die.
But there was no getting it together.
This is it. This is how I die. Fucked up and horny on my own goddamn couch.
And next—a whimper. It wasn’t just embarrassing; it was fucking filthy. Before he could even process the noise, his hips shifted. Just slightly, just enough to drag him back into the solid line of Sakusa’s body. What am I doing? What the fuck am I trying to do?!
His brain lit up like a fucking Christmas tree with every dirty, awful, completely unforgivable thought it could muster, all of them revolving around Sakusa.
Fuck. Stop it. Stop thinking about him like that. He’s just biting you. That’s all. It’s not—oh, fuck. His body was moving on its own now, his legs tense, his back arching slightly without permission. He was on autopilot, and the pilot was clearly trying to crash the goddamn plane.
What the hell is wrong with me? What am I even trying to do? Grind on him?
And—God, why is that so fucking hot?
The thought hit him like a truck, and his brain spiraled immediately, conjuring up images he absolutely did not need right now. Sakusa pinning him down, his mouth dragging along his neck, his hands—
Fuck me. Fuck me sideways. I’m so fucking done.
It wasn’t intentional—it couldn’t have been, because what sane person does this?—but the next thing he knew, his fingers were sinking into Sakusa’s hair. Soft. Too fucking soft. Atsumu didn’t even mean to notice, but there it was—just another thing making this worse. And his hand tightened in Sakusa’s hair like they’d always belonged there.
And then he pulled.
Not hard. Not rough. But enough. Enough to tug Sakusa closer, enough to press his mouth into the curve of Atsumu’s neck like it was supposed to be there.
Sakusa’s grip on his waist tightened—just barely, just enough to let Atsumu feel it. And he made a sound.
Low. Guttural. Raw.
The kind of sound that wasn’t planned, wasn’t controlled—it just spilled out, vibrating against Atsumu’s skin. The moment Atsumu heard it, his thoughts were there one second and gone the next and letting go wasn’t an option anymore. Not after that. Not after that fucking sound. Or, that was his plan for a second.
Atsumu could feel the sting of the bite, a dull throb that sent waves of heat rippling through his body, each one slower and heavier than the last. His breaths were still shallow, shaky, catching in his throat like his body hadn’t gotten the message that the moment was over. Sakusa wasn’t biting him anymore. And yet, despite the absence of Sakusa’s mouth on his neck, the pull—the connection—was still there. The venom—or whatever the fuck it was—had sunk too deep. It made his body feel too light, too heavy, too much. And Atsumu didn’t know if he wanted to pull away or press closer.
Sakusa’s hand stayed over Atsumu’s eyes, blocking out the light, the room, the world, leaving nothing but the feeling of him. His arm stayed wrapped around Atsumu’s waist, keeping him exactly where he was, like he was anchoring him to the moment.
“I’m gonna lay you down,” Sakusa murmured, his voice low and deliberate, vibrating faintly against Atsumu’s ear.
Atsumu couldn’t respond, not really. His lips parted, and a soft, incoherent hum slipped out, barely audible. He felt Sakusa shift, guiding him gently, tilting him back with steady hands until his body sank into the couch cushions. Just as his thoughts started to blur again, he felt it—a soft pressure against his neck. The sensation startled him, pulling his attention sharply back to the present. Some kind of fabric—light but firm—was pressing against the side of his throat, right where Sakusa’s fangs had been, but he did not have the strength to inspect it further.
“Look at me,” Sakusa’s voice cut through the haze, steady but edged with something Atsumu couldn’t place.
Atsumu forced his eyes open again, blinking sluggishly as his vision swam, everything slightly out of focus. But then Sakusa came into view, leaning over him, his face stark against the dim light.
And Atsumu saw it.
The faint smear of red at the corner of Sakusa’s mouth. The heat in his body flared again, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away, couldn’t stop staring at the way the blood stood out against Sakusa’s otherwise pristine face.
“You can’t fall asleep,” Sakusa said firmly, his voice cutting through the fog clouding Atsumu’s head.
Atsumu tried to respond, but all that came out was a weak, mumbled, “M’not,” as his eyelids fluttered, heavy and uncooperative.
Atsumu felt the faint sting of Sakusa’s hand against his cheek—not harsh, not rough, but just enough to get his attention. His head lolled slightly with the motion, and he blinked up at Sakusa, the haze in his mind flickering like a dying bulb.
“Atsumu,” Sakusa’s voice was sharper now. “Don’t close your eyes.”
“I’m not,” Atsumu slurred again, his voice weak. His head tipped back against the couch cushions, and a shaky breath escaped his lips, his chest rising and falling too slow.
Sakusa’s hand lingered at the side of his face, his fingers brushing against Atsumu’s jaw. “Stay with me,” he said, quieter this time but no less commanding.
Atsumu’s lips twitched like he was trying to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. His body felt too heavy, too light, too fucked up to obey.
“You’re fine,” Sakusa said, his voice steadier now, like he was trying to convince Atsumu—and maybe himself. “I’ll get you some water,” Sakusa said, his voice even but low, like he was reluctant to leave. Atsumu felt the absence immediately as Sakusa’s hand slipped away. He wanted to protest—wanted to say don’t go, even though that was the stupidest thing he could think of. The sound of footsteps padded away, and then there was the faint hiss of water running from the tap. The noise was distant, almost muffled, like it wasn’t really happening in the same room.
Why’s it so goddamn hard to keep my eyes open?
A weight pressed into the couch beside him and hand slid behind Atsumu’s head, tilting it up.
“Drink,” Sakusa said, his tone soft but unrelenting.
Atsumu blinked as something cool pressed against his lips. He parted them instinctively, the edge of a glass tipping just enough for water to slip through. It was cold—refreshing—but his body didn’t cooperate like it should’ve. He sputtered at first, barely managing a swallow before his head lolled slightly in Sakusa’s hold.
“More,” Sakusa ordered, his voice sharper now.
Atsumu’s gaze flickered upward, and through the haze, he saw Sakusa watching him intently, his face unreadable but so close it made Atsumu’s pulse stutter.
“C’mon,” Sakusa coaxed, his grip on Atsumu’s head steady. “Drink. You’ll feel better.”
With more effort than it should’ve taken, Atsumu parted his lips again, letting the water flow, easing the dryness in his throat. He swallowed—slow and shaky.
“That’s it,” Sakusa murmured, his tone softening as Atsumu managed another small sip. “Good,” Sakusa said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Sakusa pulled away the glass and placed it on the table with a quiet clink. A second later, Atsumu felt the pressure of Sakusa’s hand easing him back against the couch. Something soft—probably one of the throw pillows he’d never used for actual comfort—was slipped beneath his head, lifting it.
“Are you nauseous?” Sakusa asked, his voice even but quieter than before, like he was trying not to startle him.
He shook his head slightly instead, the motion lazy and uncoordinated.
Sakusa frowned faintly, his dark eyes scanning Atsumu’s face with a sharpness that made him feel oddly self-conscious, even in his current state. “Dizzy?”
Another small shake of the head.
“Your chest?” Sakusa pressed, his tone still calm but edged with a faint tension now. “Tightness? Pain?”
Atsumu let out a soft, breathy laugh, his lips curling faintly. “Nah,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse but laced with that stubborn, Atsumu brand of humor. “Jus’ floatin’.”
Sakusa sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly, though the line of his jaw stayed tense. “That’s normal,” he said, almost to himself.
“You look worried,” Atsumu muttered, the words slow and slurred. “Ain’t like me to make ya nervous.” He blinked sluggishly up at Sakusa, a weak grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Kinda cute, though.”
Sakusa’s lips twitched, but his face didn’t betray anything else. “You’re delirious.”
Atsumu sighed, the sound long and drawn out, his chest rising and falling with the effort. His gaze shifted lazily toward Sakusa, though his head barely moved. “Y’know,” he started, his voice still slurred but carrying a hint of that familiar sharpness, “you owe me now. Big time.”
Sakusa tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable but clearly bracing for whatever was coming.
“Owe you what?” he asked, voice low, carefully neutral.
“An explanation,” Atsumu muttered, his lips quirking into a lazy, almost smug grin. “Why you didn’t wanna do this.”
Sakusa’s expression hardened slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze flickering away as if he were measuring his words—or deciding whether he should say them at all.
Atsumu’s grin faltered. “C’mon, Sakusa,” he pressed, his voice quieter now but no less persistent. “I let ya bite me. Least you can do is tell me why you’ve been dodgin’ it like the plague.”
Sakusa sighed, long and tired, dragging a hand down his face before resting it on his thigh. He stared at the floor for a moment, his brows furrowing slightly as if the words themselves were heavy.
“My father,” Sakusa started, his voice clipped, almost detached. “He’s traditional. Believes blood should only be consumed directly from the source.”
Atsumu blinked slowly, his fogged brain struggling to piece the information together.
“‘Direct from the source’ as in?”
“As in, no blood bags,” Sakusa clarified, his tone sharp but not directed at Atsumu. “No storage. No processing. He thinks fresh blood makes vampires stronger, more powerful. Better. It’s a belief he’s drilled into me since I was young.”
There was a beat of silence, heavy and uncomfortable. Atsumu’s eyes narrowed slightly, his sluggish thoughts starting to catch up. “He made ya sign up for Donor Connect?”
Sakusa nodded once, his jaw tightening. “He insisted on it. Claimed it was necessary. Refused to listen to anything else. And he—” Sakusa hesitated, his voice faltering for the first time. “He threatened me. Said if I didn’t, he’d make it impossible for me to maintain my independence.”
Atsumu blinked again, slower this time, the weight of Sakusa’s words sinking in. “So, you’re sayin’ this whole thing was—”
“A performance,” Sakusa finished bluntly. “I had no intention of drinking from anyone.” He paused, his fingers drumming once against his knee before stopping abruptly. “But I couldn’t buy blood bags. Not openly. If he found out—” Sakusa trailed off, his voice dipping lower, quieter.
“So, you just decided to starve or somethin’?” Atsumu asked, his brows furrowing.
Sakusa shook his head, a faint, humorless smile tugging at his lips. “No. I bought it illegally. From a dealer. Only from specific donors.”
“Wait. You were buying black market blood?”
Sakusa didn’t dignify the question with a response, his gaze steady but distant. “The donor I relied on is no longer available,” he said instead, his voice sharp with frustration. “And you—” He stopped, his dark eyes locking onto Atsumu’s. “You’re the only other match I know about.”
For a moment, Atsumu just stared at him, the silence heavy between them.
“So you’re tellin’ me,” Atsumu started slowly, his voice hoarse but edged with incredulity, “I’m your backup snack?”
Sakusa exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening again. “You’re my only option.”
For a moment, Atsumu said nothing, his gaze fixed on Sakusa like he was still trying to process everything he’d just heard. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he broke the silence.
“So, does this mean we’re gonna be doin’ this regularly now?” he asked, his voice a mix of exhaustion and disbelief.
Sakusa’s expression didn’t waver. “If I can’t find another source, then yes. It’s possible.”
Atsumu groaned, throwing his head back against the couch cushions dramatically. “God, no. I can’t take that much embarrassment,” he muttered, dragging his forearm over his face to cover his eyes. “I’ll die. I’ll literally die.”
Sakusa’s lips quirked faintly, a flicker of something that might’ve been amusement passing over his face. “You handled it well,” he said evenly, like he was offering a professional critique.
Atsumu froze for half a second before peeking out from behind his arm, his expression torn between incredulous and horrified. “Well?” he blurted. “I tried to grind on you. I made—” he gestured vaguely toward his mouth, his face heating up again, “—those noises. You’re telling me that’s handling it well?”
Sakusa was quiet for a beat, his gaze steady and unreadable.
Atsumu’s chest rose and fell as he stared at him, his mind racing. The silence stretched too long, too heavy, until finally—
“I’m not saying I didn’t like it,” Sakusa said, his voice calm, deliberate, almost too casual.
The words hit Atsumu like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath right out of him.
“What—” Atsumu started, his voice cracking slightly. “What the fuck?”
Sakusa raised an eyebrow, his expression impossibly composed. “I’m just being honest.”
“Oh my god,” Atsumu muttered, dragging both hands down his face as his ears burned hotter than the rest of him. “You can’t just say shit like that.”
“You asked,” Sakusa replied smoothly, his tone so infuriatingly calm that Atsumu wanted to both punch him and crawl under the couch at the same time.
Atsumu groaned again, louder this time. “I hate you. I hate you so much,” he mumbled, his voice muffled.
“No, you don’t,” Sakusa said, his voice carrying the faintest hint of a smirk.
“Shut. The fuck. Up,” Atsumu hissed, his face buried in his hands again. “I’m calling my lawyer.”
“You don’t have a lawyer.”
“I will if it gets me a restraining order against you.”
Sakusa didn’t respond, but Atsumu could feel the smirk on his face.