#exo vampire!au

[marshmallow-phd]

A Manor of Shadow and Blood

Genre: Regency Gothic AU

Pairing: EXO x Reader

Summary: A stormy night brought you to the manor in the middle of the woods. Nine strange men occupied its halls. They won’t let you leave. A dangerous secret haunts this estate. Learning it might either be your saving grace or it could lead to the last breath you ever take.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5

**

The grand hall was lit as bright as midday. Every surface was polished to perfection, reflecting the candlelight at a greater force. Brilliant brass and gold surrounded you as you made your way through the dancing couples, their movements in perfect sync. Wrapped in each other's arms, they spin around without a care for your wandering presence. 

While all who surrounded you were decorated in blacks and whites, your own dress was the color of freshly spilled blood. The heavy skirts that hug from your waist made it difficult to navigate the ballroom. Their fullness was of an older fashion, one that maybe your grandmother would have worn in her youth. The dropped shoulders left you exposed, your skin chilled despite the amount of bodies in here. 

You kept navigating the dance floor, on the look out for something, though you didn’t know what. Then you felt the familiar burn of eyes boring into your back, which sent a shiver down your spine. You whirled around to find the source, the dress brushing at your feet with the sudden motion. Through the crowd, you spotted Baekhyun leaning against the wall. With a single finger, he beckoned you over. And you obeyed. 

Breaking through the sea of dancers, you took in his elegant suit, the hems lined with gold thread that shimmered against black velvet. 

"You shouldn't dance alone," he purred. Arms crossed over his chest, he smirked at you with a grin even the devil wouldn't wear.

"I have no partner," you retorted. He held out a lazy hard. Hardly the romantic gesture. "No, thank you." 

"How about me?" asked a sweet voice in your ear. 

You turned your head to find Junmyeon at your back. He laid a soft hand on your hip to keep you from escaping out of propriety. When you didn’t shove him away, the hand slyly moved to your stomach, pulling your bare shoulder blades into his chest. With the fingers of his left hand, he tilted your chin towards him. 

"Am I a suitable partner?" 

No answer passed your lips. You could think of nothing to say. The thought of him twirling you around the dance floor was not… unpleasant. 

Junmyeon neither needed nor cared for a reply. He dipped his head to your shoulder and pressed a kiss to the skin. A small gasp passed your lips. And then he pressed another. More and more as he climbed up the curve of your neck. Heat rose from every inch of you as you sighed into the affectionate touches. You relaxed into his touch, welcoming each new contact of his lips. 

"It's rude not to share, Junmyeon.”

Your attention snapped back to Baekhyun, who you had forgotten was there. He pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer to you so he stood in front of the minor. 

No, not a mirror. There was no reflection. 

Except… there was. The mirror reflected the floor, the ceiling, the candlelight. You. 

But not Baekhyun. Not Junmyeon. And not the dancers still spinning behind you. 

Fingers snaked through your hair and pulled your head back, your vulnerable neck exposed. From the gallery above, Kyungsoo watched as elongated fangs flashed behind Junmyeon’s lips and plunged into your neck. 

*****

You woke with a start, the blanket flying off of you as you sat up in a fury. Sweet drenched every pore of your skin. Your day old dress clung to your skin in a way that felt suffocating. Each breath was a struggle for your lungs. 

Vampires. The nightmarish tale that had kept you up as a child until you were convinced they weren't real turned out to be true. But how could they be real? 

Creatures of the night. Blood drinkers. Horror stories meant to keep children from wandering about after dark. 

Curling your legs to your chest and encasing them in your arms, you tried to think of a way out. To escape. With what strength you possessed, you slid off the bed and walked over to the window. The sun, so bright and full of life, was just beginning its descent towards the horizon. Night–their domain–was hours away. If the legends were true, then they would all be asleep at this moment. Any risk that was to be taken had to be taken now. 

After changing into a sturdier dress, you retrieved your still mud-covered boots and, keeping them in one hand, you carefully pushed away the pathetic barrier and snuck out of the room. 

Each step was taken with unmatched caution. You tested every board with your foot before fully committing. Any squeak of a floor or stumble down a stair could alert them to your escape. But by the grace of a miracle, you made it to the front door. Fingers trembling, you pulled on the boots and tied up the laces before opening the door only wide enough for you to slink through. 

The next breath taken outside was like the first breath of life. But there was no time to take it in. 

Gathering your skirts in your grip, you took off into the trees. The dirt was dry and sturdy under your feet. Branches and leaves crunched with the weight of your boots. A lady’s delicacy was out of the question as you ran without abandon. You didn't know what direction you were running. But vampires needed blood to survive and they weren’t drinking yours. And Jongdae had brought those buns from a bakery, not their own kitchen. You doubted any of them knew how to cook. That meant a village or town had to be nearby. Junmyeon had lied about the isolation of the manor. If you just kept going, you could find freedom. 

However, your stamina was running out. This was never your preferred activity. Your lungs and throat burned in an unfamiliar way. The sun still shined above. A short respite could be spared. 

You leaned against a tree trunk for support. In your boots your feet pulsed. Only now did you realize that you had run away without food or water. Not knowing where the kitchen was located, you didn't have time to waste on it. You could survive, you told yourself. Just a little farther. The town couldn’t be too far. Unless you were headed in the wrong direction. 

A rustling rippled through the silent forest. You snapped to attention, trying to find the source. 

“The wind,” you gasped between ragged breaths. “It had to be the wind.” 

A low, rumbling growl said it wasn't wind. 

In the distance, large silhouettes emerged. Wolves. Nearly a dozen of them. 

You ran as fast as your crying legs could take you. With their superior nature built for the hunt, the wolves caught up to you within seconds. Their growls and howls grew louder and more threatening behind you. Running from the manor had been easy. Running from the wolves was to be your end. 

Powerful paws slammed into your back. You were thrown to the ground, rolling across the ground as a scream ripped at your throat. The momentum stopped you on your stomach. Hair covered your face, but you could still see your death through the strands. 

Wolves of gray and black gathered in a half moon circle. They had their prey in perfect position. The middle wolf pounced. All you had time to do was throw up your arms to protect your face. Claws raked across your forearm. Another scream echoed through the merciless trees. The wolf landed on the other side of you with pride. Now you were surrounded. A second wolf leapt. 

A blur appeared in front of you and collided with the wolf midair. The two bodies tumbled across the forest floor. A human and the wolf. 

Not a human. 

Chanyeol. The wolf trapped within his grasp, Chanyeol tightened his grip–

Crack. 

The wolf fell limply to the ground, its tongue hanging from its jaw. 

The others appeared seconds later. Not understanding what they were up against, the wolves let you go to attack the newest threat. 

"Are you alright?" Junmyeon knelt down in front of you. His hands were outstretched as if you were the wild animal on the verge of attack. Behind him, snarls and whimpers told of the fight–and who was winning. Despite not answering him, he caught sight of your bleeding arm. "We need to get back to the manor." 

He didn't ask permission before picking you up into his arms and sprinting through the forest. Everything blurred past you, your loose hair whipping at your face. He burst through the manor doors and didn't stop until he was able to set you down in the largest chair. Once you were safe, he fell to his knees, only his palms keeping him upright. The others soon stumbled in behind him, heaving and collapsing onto the floor. Only then did you notice the smoke floating up from each of their backs. Patches of burnt, red skin sizzled on their knuckles and faces. Anything that had been exposed to the sun. 

"Baekhyun," Junmyeon gasped. 

"I already have it." Kyungsoo came into the parlor with bottles stacked in his arms. He quickly passed them around, waiting until the others were quenching their thirst before pulling the cork out of his own bottle and chugging the contents. 

With his bottle empty, Junmyeon tossed it to the side and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Red smears stained the ivory fabric. You shrank back in the chair as he turned towards you. 

"What hell were you thinking!" He growled. "I warned you about the wolves!" 

"Junmyeon, she's shaken up enough," Jongdae defended. Before your eyes, his burnt skin healed to be like new.

"She could have been killed!" 

Your head was pounding. He was… concerned about your life? The legends said that the sun was a vampire's deadliest enemy. It was why they thrived in the darkness. But they had all risked a final death to come after you. 

"Did you hear me scream?" you whispered. You could barely feel your own lips moving. All heads tuned to you. 

Yixing was the one to answer. "Yes. We all heard you." 

"Why were you out there?" Sehun asked aggressively.

You sucked in a sharp breath. There was no escaping the truth now. You stared at Jongdae. "I figured it out.” 

Baekhyun laughed. "At least we don't have to walk around delicately anymore." 

"When exactly did you do so?" Minseok mocked.

"Then you should remember what I said to you before was true. Harm would not come to you within these walls." Junmyeon crouched down next to the chair. His eyes... there was something behind the darkness that tugged at your still wildly beating heart. "I know you were running away. And if you're desperate to get away enough to get yourself killed, then the choice can be yours. We can send you on your way with every provision. Or," he cleared his throat, "you stay here. With us." 

A choice? He was giving you a choice?

Your gaze drifted over the faces that stared back at you. Even Kyungsoo refused to look away while he waited. There was almost a plea in his expression, a subtle beg. But was it to stay? Or for you to run as far away as possible? 

Junmeyon took your attention away when he picked up your wounded arm with delicate fingers. His pleading was much more clear. 

To leave would be the better choice. The more sane choice. But what would happen afterwards? You could claim being lost in the woods. With evidence of the carriage and the missing driver, what else could they believe? After a few days on bed rest, you would be back by your aunt's side, following her every whim. Including indulging her on a "perfectly adequate" suitor because you had no other option, no other path. That suitor who would then become your future. But you didn't want it. You refused to give in to it. 

Already within these few days, you were… changed in a way. They might not be human, but these men would forever be burned into your memory. Who could move you with music the way Chanyeol had? What silent strength could match the aura of Junmyeon? You had been promised that none of them would harm you. The chance for something extraordinary was right in front of you. The kind of chance you had only read about. It just had to be taken.

"I think… I think I want to stay."

*****

The moon became an ever changing friend. You hardly saw the sun anymore. Like the men you had given yourself over to, you lived under the stars. It was oddly beautiful. This time was often forgotten about by you and many others. The night was only a background to your time within your dreams. But now it was your entire world. 

Every evening, you awoke to the dying orange light of the day. Breakfast always waited for you outside the door. It was the rule that no one broke; none could enter your room without explicit permission from you. Those walls remained your safe haven when things grew too overwhelming. 

Despite your decision to stay, discovering that other creatures walked the earth required a step away once in a while. Especially now, with you aware of their true nature, the men were refusing to hold back. 

Dropping from the roof, running around with spectacular speed, and lifting objects that ten men couldn't hold. It was remarkable. Except for the diet and inability to walk in the sun, the… condition seemed more like a blessing.

"You're rather thoughtful this evening,” Jongdae commented. He walked beside you like he did every twilight. 

After you finished your breakfast, you met Jongae at the front doors to go on a walk around the manor grounds. Often others would join you as well. Junmyeon was the most frequent, though Yixing, Changed, and Jongin made many appearances over the past week and a half. Boundaries were constantly tested, but one word from you and they retreated.

"I guess you could say I am thoughtful tonight," you finally sighed. You hadn’t realized that you were being so obviously quiet. Funny, since you would have thought Jongdae would enjoy the silence. You typically had many questions or comments of your own to make. 

"Should I go steal a penny from Sehun?" 

You laughed. "I'd like to think my thoughts are worth more than a single penny.”

"They must be if you've become so skilled in deflecting from them." He crossed over to block your path. Gaze narrowed, he studied your carefully guarded expression. "What are you thinking about so hard? Regretting your decision to stay already?" 

"No," you insisted. "Not at all."

He raised an eyebrow that simply asked, "Then what?" 

"Do you always stay here?" you countered. "At the manor, I mean." 

"We travel," Jongdae answered with a nod. "Not too often. It’s a bit difficult, you see."

"But we like traveling north.” Minseok dropped from who-knew-where, landing with barely bent knees and hands folded behind his back. "In the winter, the night lasts longer. Junmyeon has a small hunting lodge up there. 

A hunting lodge? "Then why do you stay here?" 

Minsoek shrugged. "This manor is bigger." 

"Having nine of us in one household can be a bit volatile,” Jongdae added. He stepped aside to continue the stroll. "We need the room to separate so we don't level a building." 

Your foot caught on an invisible lump in the grass. "You could destroy a building while fighting?" 

Minseok snickered as he caught your stumble and helped steady your stance. His hand lingered at your waist until your sharpened glare made him remove it. "We haven’t crumbled a wall in a few years."

You scoffed at the casual tone. "What sort of fight caused that?" 

"I can't remember." Minseok leaned forward slightly to look at Jongdae for help. But he didn't seem to recall either. 

"Who knows what started it between Chanyeol and Kyungsoo.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol had fought over something to the point of destroying a wall to crumble? It didn't feel plausible. Neither seemed like the hot-headed sort. You wanted to know the igniting incident so desperately. 

Both Jongdae and Minseok suddenly whipped their heads towards the front of the manor. 

"What is it?" you asked when neither offered an explanation. 

"Junmyeon's calling for us." Jongdae scooped you up into his arms without warning. At your confused expression, he explained, "We're not leaving you alone out here." Remember your last adventure in the woods lingered in the silence.

The short lived wind whipped at your hair that you still wore loose to cover your neck. As soon as he stopped running, you wiggled out of his arms to be back on your feet. Everyone else was already gathered just outside the door. Several eyed you and Jongdae with suspicious and annoyed glares. You took a step away from him for some separation. 

Clearing his throat, Junmyeon called everyone to attention. "We have to go hunting–real hunting. Now, normally, we all go together, but now that we have our guest," he nodded towards you, "some will have to stay behind with her until the first party… comes back." 

"If you all need to go,” you couldn't quite speak the word feed, "then I'll be alright. For a few hours, at least." You weren't sure how long this excursion would take.

Junmyeon's features softened. "No. We'll go in groups. Chanyeol, Kyungsoo, Minseok and I will go first. We shouldn't be gone long." He reached out and patted the top of your head before disappearing into the trees. Kyungsoo gave no goodbye as he followed suit. The last two playfully shoved each other while taking off. 

"Come." Yixing took hold of your hand and started pulling you inside. "I want to show you something."

"But–" You had wanted to ask Jongdae a question, but the traitor was already gone, off somewhere to do something he would never tell you about. So, you let Yixing take you into the manor and up the main staircase at the end of the hallway. At least he let you stay on your own feet instead of insisting on going at his speed. 

Going down an unfamiliar hallway, you were reminded how big this place was and how much you still had to explore. The men occupied most of your time, vying for your attention and pulling you this way and that so you didn’t have much time on your own. It was odd and overwhelming at times. 

During your seasons in town, you were hardly a well-sought after prize. There were prettier girls with grander dowries. You had accepted that fact. Now you were the center of a courting dance to which you knew none of the steps and possessed endless partners. 

Yixing paused in front of a door that looked identical to all the others. He kept his fingers tight around yours as he slowly turned the knob with his free hand. The door swung open. 

The gasp inhaled through your parted lips wasn't enough to convey your awe. 

Maps of all the places you'd heard of and dozens more you hadn't covered the walls like homemade wallpaper. Slipping out of Yixing's grip, you walked further into the study, spinning slowly around to take it all in. The maps were varying degrees of tan, some as light as his skin, others as dark as animal leather. 

Instead of bookshelves, doorless cabinets waist high lined three of the walls. Their squared shelves were stuffed full of parchment and ink and quills. A lone sketcher's desk sat in the middle, an unfinished drawing laying against the tilted surface. 

"What is this place?"

"It's my personal study," Yixing answered as he laid a hand on the edge of the desk. "Kyungsoo gave it to me after I had accidentally taken over one of the parlors." 

Your awe increased ten-fold. Your initial assumption was that he was a collector, not the original artist. "You drew all of these?" 

He nodded almost... shyly. "I did. I was a cartographer. Before." 

"Before?" You understood what he meant, but you didn't know how to ask for the story. 

Turning his eyes to the parchment, he pinched it between his fingers. "I didn't just love traveling. I loved capturing it on paper. I wanted to make these places into art, but not like every other painting. I wanted them to be perfect. Exact replicas as if you were staying at them from God’s point of view. And I wanted to be the best. I couldn't be, though. I wasn’t good enough." 

You moved closer to him, entranced in the story. "What happened?"

A rueful smile tightened at his lips. "I was given a chance to become perfect. What I didn't know was that I traded everyone knowing my maps for the talent to make it happen." Sorrow rolled from him like the tide warning of an oncoming storm. 

Feeling the pull to comfort him, you reached out and covered his fidgeting hand with your own steady fingers.

"People will be able to know your work some day," you whispered. "I’m sure of it." 

Perhaps you had been a bit too forward, a bit too open. 

Yixing moved gracefully forward to eliminate most of the space between you. A smooth thumb that once must have been calloused when it was human caressed the edge of your jaw. His flickering eyes made intentions obvious. 

Clearing your throat, you stepped out of the touch. "Why isn't this one finished?" You pointed to the drawing on the desk. It was an aerial view of the manor, with the top half of the parchment containing the beginning edges of the garden hedges. Disappointed, Yixing sighed and went along with your distraction. 

"I'm still working out the maze. It is intricate. Much more than I was prepared for." 

"Goodness." You were thankful that you hadn't wandered in there yet, especially on your own.

"Yixing.” 

Both of you turned towards the door to find Sehun standing under the frame. 

"Yes, Sehun?" Yixing said through somewhat gritted teeth. The young vampire wasn't phased. 

"I need to speak with you." 

"Fine." None of you moved. 

Sehun looked at you with a pointed glare.

You received the hint loud and clear. "I'll leave you, then.” 

With more relief than you cared to admit, you scurried out of the room and down the hallway. 

Around the corner, you pressed your back against the wall and forced yourself to take deep breaths that filled your lungs to capacity. Panic had been the response at Yixing's closeness. You didn't mean for that to be the response. You didn't want to be closed off to any of them. But you couldn't help it. Maybe it was merely the closeness of the situation. 

Giving yourself a small amount of grace, you pushed off the wall and made your way downstairs. So used to your time being absorbed by the men that you weren't sure what to do with yourself. Two of the ones that remained behind were currently occupied. As for the three others, they could have been anywhere. 

You wandered around the main floor with a fleeting hope that one would come to find you. Then you saw them. A row of grand doors evenly spaced along the north wall called you forward.

The grand ballroom took your breath away. Not so dissimilar to the one in your dream, though this one’s lack of warmth and light left you heartbroken. Memories of dancing figures and lively music haunted these walls. In the corner, you could imagine a small orchestra strumming their instruments in delight. 

You walked to the center where dozens of pairs used to twirl and bow and embrace each other in time with the melody. Ghostly laughter echoed in your ears. What had once been  bright and golden and full of life was dull, dark, and covered in cobwebs that swayed in the breeze of unknown origin. 

Glancing around, you confirmed that you were truly alone before closing your eyes, lifting your arms, and began a soft hum. 

You danced with an invisible partner in the fashion that your grandfather had taught you as a small child. It was more intimate than the choreographed dances currently popularized. You had always imagined your first ball like this, instead of the disappointment you really experienced. You had pictured a boy you didn’t know catching your eye. As the music was struck up, he laid a hand on your waist.

Just like now. 

Hm. Your imagination was running wild, even pretending the weight of a palm was there on your lower back. And now in your lifted left hand. 

No. That wasn’t your imagination. 

Your eyes snapped open. 

Jongin had taken the place of your imagined partner. He smiled down at you with a feline smirk as his hands tightened around you, refusing to let you slip away. There was no choice in leaving this musicless dance. You had stopped humming but he continued to whirl you around the marble floor. He controlled the dance, in charge of every step. He led with an expertise he shouldn’t have possessed–if he were a man of this age. 

In one final move, he slipped his arm fully around your waist, pulling you so close that no room remained between you. Without breaking the spin, he lifted you from the floor as if you were no more than a kitten and whirled you around like the heroine from your favorite novel.

When the spin came to a close, he set you back on your feet, but didn’t let go. Your lungs heaved from the exercise–and from the way your bodies pressed together. Each rise of your chest brought you even closer to Jongin. He kept your gaze like a stablehand trying to calm a wild horse. His right hand slipped from your fingers, softly tracing the delicate inside of your arm. The touch left behind a fire you couldn’t explain. A cold, simmering fire.

He cupped your jaw as his eyes drifted down to your lips. This was a different reaction to Yixing’s wandering gaze. Not panic, but something similar. 

Jongin held you in place as he leaned down, his lips pressing gently into the corner of yours. The thin breath in your lungs hitched. He lifted his lips only to find a new patch of skin. The delicate skin covering your pulse. Every muscle in your body froze. He kissed the skin softly. Surely, he could feel the race of your blood. 

“Whenever you need a partner,” he said in a hush against your neck, “just whisper my name.”

And then, he was gone. 

You stared off at the empty path left behind Jongin. The sheer hubris.

His name lingered on your lips, wondering if he would really come back like he said. But you kept the whisper inside and left the ballroom just the same. 

[miabbh]

I can recommend so many Baekhyun fanfics. 😃 I would suggest to read SkyeButterfly's fics on aff. And for more vampire Baekhyun, check out @vampwrrr s recommendation list.

You're such sweethearts giving so many things to read🥹 It kinda feels like a hug!

Thank you soooo much!

[bellabellaball]

Park Chanyeol was the most powerful vampire the world had ever seen. He was a pureblood from the Park clan, the oldest vampires known to man. In the vampire world, the Parks were basically royalty. They lived in a beautiful Gothic mansion that dated back to the 1700s, said to have once been the property of an ancient ruler. It now served as the residence of the vampire lord and his four lovers: Park Suho, Park Minseok, Park Jong-dae, and the youngest and most recent mate, Park Baekhyun.

Chanyeol met each of them at different times: Suho in Europe in 1351, when he neared death from the plague; Jong-dae in the early 1900s, as he suffered from the depression that swept the United States; and Minseok, Chanyeol's most recent find, saved from death as he lived with AIDS in the late 1980s. Minseok had been the most compliant of the three, as the concept of vampires wasn't foreign to him. He struggled with his loss of humanity, having been a vet in his past life, but life with Chanyeol entailed more than he could ever imagine.

Last was Baekhyun, a victim of a hate crime in 2010. Chanyeol happened to be passing by when he saw the young boy left for dead. The century-old vampire was no stranger to death and often wouldn't care when he saw murder, as it was a part of life. Yet when he saw the young man's face, he couldn't help but feel empathetic.

The blood of a pureblood was something to treasure. Many vampires would give themselves as slaves just to have a taste. Purebloods were the only ones capable of turning a human into a vampire. While most vampires were descendants of purebloods, they did not have the same power. For a time, it was heavily recommended that purebloods breed with one another to grow the vampire race. However, after a few centuries, vampires began to procreate with humans and other species. Now, 90% of the vampire population were low-level beings created by unions of vampires. Only 5% were still purebloods, and vampires like the Parks, created by purebloods, were known as aristocrats.

Ironically, the very night Baekhyun was turned happened to be a full moon. While not much could harm a pureblood vampire, werewolves had been their enemies for centuries. As Chanyeol held the boy in his arms and fed him blood to awaken him, a pack of wolves charged at him from behind. This attack would have sent any normal vampire to the ground, but Chanyeol came from a special lineage.

The attack left him badly injured, requiring him to slumber for years until his body fully healed. He had yet to meet his new mate, and his older companions were forced to explain to the fledgling what had happened.

Cut to 2024, fourteen years later, Chanyeol was waking up from his slumber. The house remained unchanged, courtesy of Suho, who struggled with change. Chanyeol could detect a sweet, unfamiliar smell in the air.

The first person to see Chanyeol since he woke up was Xiumin, who had chosen to spend the decade beside him, finding solace in the quiet of Chanyeol's room. As Chanyeol lifted the lid and emerged, Xiumin couldn't contain the tears that slipped down his cheeks at the sight of his beloved awake once more. Chanyeol stepped out slowly, stretching stiff limbs as he adjusted to the world beyond his slumber.

Approaching Xiumin, Chanyeol embraced him tightly, pressing a tender kiss atop his lips and brushing away the tears that adorned Xiumin's cheeks. "I'm sorry I made you wait, my love," Chanyeol whispered softly, his voice a soothing balm after years of silence. "Where are the others?" he asked gently, his hands still resting on Xiumin's shoulders.

"Awaiting your return, Lord," Xiumin replied , feeling the warmth of Chanyeol's touch. Chanyeol tightened his grip around Xiumin's waist, a familiar gesture that spoke of years spent together. "After forty years, I'd think you'd be more comfortable dropping the honorifics with your husband," he teased gently, a smile tugging at his lips.

Minseok's cheeks flushed, his gaze dropping to the floor as he fiddled nervously with his hands. "I'm sorry, Chanyeol, it's just..." he began, his voice hesitant. "While you were away, the others made it clear how fortunate we are to have been turned by you. I don't want to be disrespectful. I am truly thankful to you," he confessed, sincerity lacing his words.

Chanyeol's smile softened, his thumb gently brushing across Minseok's cheek. "Well, I'll have a talk with them," he assured, his voice carrying the weight of authority tempered by affection. As they walked through the grand halls of their home, Chanyeol couldn't shake the feeling of displacement. It had been only a decade since he last roamed these corridors, yet it felt as though a century had passed. Familiar shadows danced upon the walls, memories etched into every corner of the mansion they called home.

Spotting his love, Chanyeol used his speed to tackle Jongdae. They crashed to the floor, the wind knocked out of Jongdae as his century-old lover lay on top of him. "I thought you'd be weaker after your slumber," Jongdae managed to say, chuckling despite the weight on his chest.

Chanyeol laughed softly. "Always be alert." He quickly helped Jongdae up, brushing the dust off both of them. "You've grown your hair out," Chanyeol observed, noting the stark contrast from the buzz cut he remembered.

Jongdae smiled, tucking a loose strand behind his ear. "Yeah, it just felt right, Yeol. It's more accepting now, so I thought..." He trailed off, studying Chanyeol's face, trying to read his expression.

Chanyeol met Jongdae's gaze warmly. "No, it's just... you look beautiful," he said sincerely.

Jongdae's smile widened. His second husband had been an army veteran, serving in the early years of World War II. Even then, Jongdae had known he was gay, coming to terms with his identity had been a struggle, even after being reborn as a vampire. Expression and identity had always been significant challenges for him. Chanyeol knew Jongdae was perhaps the most outwardly feminine among them, loving to paint his nails and finding joy in baking and housework.

Even when deciding who would carry their offspring, Jongdae had made it clear he would be the one to bear Chanyeol's children. This arrangement didn't sit well with the others, but Jongdae managed to give Chanyeol twins—more children than the other boys had.

"Where are the others?" Chanyeol asked. "Suho and Baekhyun are starting their lessons," Jongdae replied, guiding Chanyeol down the hallway and pointing towards the room where their children were completing their studies. "And Baekhyun..." Chanyeol's voice trailed off. "Has he been informed of the rules?"

Jongdae paused for a moment, confused, then realized Chanyeol hadn't had the chance to explain to Baekhyun before he was attacked. "Yes, Lord, he's completely untouched. I made sure of it," Jongdae assured him, but he couldn't meet Chanyeol's gaze as he continued, "We have all remained abstinent since your slumber."

Chanyeol smirked slightly, pride evident in his eyes at the loyalty he had built over the years. "Well, I'll have to address that later," he said casually. "But you and Minseok will have to drop the 'Lord' title. We'll discuss this."

Why shouldn't they address you correctly?" a voice spoke from inside a nearby room. Chanyeol walked forward, spotting Suho holding a book with their son in his arms, reading him a story. "Chanyeol, you've forgotten who you are. It's only right we remind you," Suho said calmly.

With his perfect hearing, Chanyeol realized he should have anticipated that Suho would be aware of his presence. As the oldest among his mates, Suho possessed powers that surpassed the others by light years. "So you're the one I should blame for this," Chanyeol remarked, walking into the room. Almost immediately, his youngest son Sehun ran into his arms. "oh my goodness you've gotten so big" he remarks "I have fangs appa" sehun bars his teeth showing little fangs "that's my boy you'll be caught up to me in in time, he holds the boy adding small kisses to his face.

Looking up he sees the new edition holding his other son jongin in his arms he puts down the book he held looking at his sire.

"and you must be beakhyun,your more beautiful then I remember.“

[sarangbear]

THE MATERIAL

[haus-of-wu-ao3]

fictober 2024 - day 8: are we happy?

summary:

jongin contemplates his relationship with taemin and whether what they have is working.

rating: teen and up audiences; no archive warnings apply

relationship: kim jongin | kai / lee taemin

genre: magical realism, vignette

content warnings: none

miscellaneous ao3 tags:

vampires

[spacequokka]

Page 187

Pairing: vamp!Chanyeol x Reader Genre: Vampire AU, Angst Rating: 16+ Summary: There’s something different about the newest fledgling you’ve been assigned to. Word Count: 0.5k Warnings: biting and blood drinking

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“Well, that’s good, because it’s probably the only thing that would’ve made this worse.”

He didn’t laugh or even smile. You sat across from him, observing his movements. He cowered in the corner, avoiding the sliver of light from the hallway. It was sad to find him like that—small, frail, wasting away. All because he refused to accept what he’d become and give in to the urges.

“Look. You don’t have to take much if you’re uncomfortable with doing it. But I need you to at least try so I can get you down to the Center. From there, we can discuss your options after the doctor checks you out.” You pushed up your sleeve and showed him your wrist, free of any jewelry. “If you’re too weak or too hungry, we won’t get far.”

Chanyeol’s eyes flashed red like glittering rubies before he shook his head and hid his face. “No. I’ll hurt you. And I don’t want that. I don’t want any of this.”

You didn’t know what to say. You’d helped plenty of people through the transition and coping with their new way of life, but this was the first time you genuinely felt remorse for someone. You wished with every fiber of your being for a better way to help the guy you barely knew. “You won’t hurt me.” He looked up, doubt in his glossy eyes. “I’ve experienced it all, okay? Short of tearing off my arm, there isn’t much pain I feel anymore. It’s what made me a great candidate for the Fledgling Mentorship program! So, please, will you try? A tiny sip?”

His gaze flickered between your face and wrist before he slowly uncurled his long body and crawled closer. “Are you sure I won’t hurt you?”

You nodded. “A hundred percent sure. I’ll even walk you through it.” You got to your knees and moved to a better position. “Here. Bite towards the center and once you break the skin, you suck the blood.”

His thin fingers went around your wrist with a weak grip. You couldn’t see how he was able to keep himself upright. He collapsed in your arms, and you cradled him as he brought your wrist to his mouth. He inhaled and shuddered. “You smell good…like home,” he whispered before his lips brushed your skin. His bite was weaker than you’d thought it’d be, no different from that of a teething baby. You knew the moment blood hit his tongue because he stiffened, went slack, then his grip steadily grew stronger until he was holding your arm in place. Each pull from his lips seemingly came from the top of your head and the tips of your toes, making you curl around him as if he were literally drinking you dry. But the odd thing was that where with others you’d quickly stop them because of discomfort, it never crossed your mind. The feeling was amazing, like a warm silk caressing you from the inside out.

Right when your eyes began to flutter, and you felt faint, he pulled away. “Are you—”

Not sure what he said, but as you fell over, all you could think about was that Junmyeon was going to chew your ass out for this.

[an-annyeoing-writer]

Vampire Alphabet (Masterlist)

Baekhyun:

Bite & First Bite

Intimacy, Vampire & Dangerous

Hate, Odd & Key

Chanyeol:

First Bite, Intimacy & Yandere

Lay:

Bite, First Bite & Yandere

Vampire!AU Alphabet

Werewolf Alphabet (Masterlist)

Baekhyun:

Claws, Enemy & Moonlight

Dog, Yearning & Fear

Good boy, Territory & Bitemark

Sanity, Joy & Insomnia

Chanyeol:

Dog, Good boy & Territory

Werewolf!AU Alphabet

My Fanfiction Masterlist

[sexygrass]

8. Death Is Always At Sidewalks.

"I saw magic in her eyes. dirty, dark, beautiful magic."

genre: smut, supernatural AU, soulmate au, vampires au, werewolf au, Sub/Dom dynamics, angst, mention of traumas, mention of torture, deaths of some characters, and blood, explicit language, fluff, mature content, sadism, lots of killing, and many plot twists.

stepping into a sketchy, empty, and old baseball stadium, she watched how jeno's smile widened as he pushed the shabby fence and stepped into the old court. taking a glance at the graphics on a wall of the entrance, she managed to read some names; jeno, jaemin, Renjun, Shotaro—

"I found it!" Jeno's chipper made her look his way; she saw him holding up a bottle of white wine in his hand, "haechan's hiding places are always expectable," he let out a chuckle.

walking towards him, she grabbed the bottle from his hand and examined it. "so, here is where you and your friends used to hang out?" pulling out two clean glasses from his backpack, he plopped on a beach seat and motioned for her to sit too.

"I know this is ain't your typical go-to date but I really like this place, it holds a sentimental feeling to me, I used to come here whenever I want to stay alone or clear my head." casting a small smile, she let him fill her glass, "no, it's fine," she took a sip and looked at him, "as long as I have fun and it helps me forget about life; it's fine."

offering her a quick smile, he leaned his head on the headrest and closed his eyes, breathing in the cooly hair; the glass still in hand. Racking her eyes around the diamond shape court, she smiled. it was calm and quiet as if the life's noise was muted—as If they were alone in the world. 

turning to her left, she glanced at his peaceful state. She traced the outline of his lips with her eyes, the natural yet subconscious pout evident on his face. she took notice whenever he was in deep thought; he pouts. and it was the softest little pout she had seen on any lips—She was so tempted to kiss it off.

as a result, her eyes lingered on his lips longer than she should have as she wondered what it would feel like on hers. "Jeno," she called suddenly and he hummed softly while glancing at other graphics with a longing look, resulting in him missing the way she was glancing at him.

“Why do you want to be a vampire, Lee Jeno?” Her sudden random question made him slowly sit up and face her. "Why would you willingly give up your life and your humanity…so willingly? Does that have anything to do with your friends being vampires and you not? Because your brother is one too?" she added quietly.

Taking a deep breath, he placed his glass down and let out a breath. his black hair falling on his forehead; covering his saddened eyes. Jeno stuffed his hands in the pocket of his black leather jacket.

"I don't want to stay alone," he mumbled under his breath. "I hate it when they look down at me… only because I'm a human. I hate Taeyong for being overprotective of me because I'm human; because I'm unable to protect myself." he reached for his glass and chugged down his drink.

"He always keep blabbering about the damn possibility of one of his or the 127's enemies would come after me since I'm his weakness, how wonderfu. however; when I asked for him to turn me into a vampire so I won't burden him, he turned his back on me." he bitterly scoffed, jaw clenched. pouring himself another glass and chugging it down, he finally turned to her. eyes lazily bouring into hers, his raw emotions swimming in his eyes, his tough facad sttarting to crumble. not that he cared, he was in need for someone to hear him and understand him and he found comfort in talking with her.

Jeno was feeling vulnerable, unable to be as strong as his brother and his friends for a long time, he hated it. he wanted nothing more than to change that. that and his inevitable fear that he never managed to shake was abandonment. the fear of his friends leaving him out of their lives and problems to protect him forever bugging him.

if anything he fears and despises equally or even more than the idea of being left alone is for him to be un-dependable for those he cares about. the feeling of being powerless and being a burden on his brother's back. he wants those he loves to rely on him and need him in their lives just like he does. He forver believe that he won't be complete without people needing him. he needed to be needed.

Samantha's dry laugh stopped his train of thoughts and slammed it to the wall, "lonely?" she gave him a bitter smile, "if you don't want to stay alone then cherish your humanity. Lee Jeno. becoming a vampire isn't the solution to your problems." 

knitting his eyebrows, he opened his mouth to speak but one look in her weighty eyes made him rethink his words, she spoke ahead. "We vampires are bound to live our immortality alone, bound to stay in the dark; as the creatures of the night. nothing can fill the void in our dead, cold hearts; not even love. why? cause we don't deserve it. ,Love isn't for the damned like us. For whom do you think loneliness was made?"

taking a sip from her glass, she added. "we've cheated death, we are a loophole in nature's system, and for that, we're eternally bounded by two things; loneliness and thirst for blood." downing her drink whole, she side-eyed him.

"so after hearing your excuse about wanting not to stay alone and claiming the solution to your dilemma is becoming a vampire is really ironic, ironic that it irritates me."

licking his lower lip, he found himself speechless. not because he had no reply but because the sadness that lingered in her voice was so loud, "this is a wine." she laughed pointing at the bottle next to jeno's leg. chuckling along with her, he shook his head. "damn, that was deep." she chuckled with him.

"aaand we ran out of wine," jeno slumped his shoulders when he attempted to pour hmself another glass, hearing a chuckle from the hybrid next to him, he smiled but when her laugh died in a heartbeat, Jeno's brows pulled together. "someone is here," she suddenly uttered before standing up and looking around the dim deserted building. 

jeno stood up too and checked his surroundings, "What do you mean? There's no—" he got cut off by noises of waves of laughter and heavy footsteps. "well, well, well. look who we have here!" 

a guy with a smug grin and curly brown hair clapped his hands together but his grin quickly turned into a startled expression when he saw Jeno. "wait—what? Taeyong's lil brother!? We thought you were dead! Nice to see you again, man" jeno clenched his jaw and glared at him intensely. "what do you want?" he spat, darkly.

Samantha stood two steps behind him with an amused grin on her face. this side of Jeno is new to her; all serious and tensed up, protective and pissed. She liked it.

the man whistled and stepped closer to him, his sidekicks following him. "where are your friends, Jen?" the guy shoved his hands in his pockets, lips curled, he looked behind him and once his eyes landed on Samantha, his brows shot up and a crooked smile appeared on his crusty lips. "Woah, Jeno! aren't you going to introduce us to your pretty lady friend?" he flashed her a smirk. 

Jeno stepped in front of the black-haired female, protectively, blocking him from seeing her "What. do. you. want, Juhyeon?" he spoke through gritted teeth, his fists clenched by his side. The veins in his arms were prominent as his sleeves were rolled up. 

Juhyeon lazily looked at him, unaffected by Jeno's attempt to intimidate him. clicking his tongue, he marched towards him, bumping into jeno aggressively in his way till he stood in front of Samantha, "Hey, sweety. wanna ditch this boring bastard and come with us?" he winked at her.

bastard

she smiled and pulled her hands off her pocket. She took a step closer before licking her lips, her smile masking her rage that started to boil right when she heard him cuss at jeno—the moment he called him 'bastard'. She at first, was going to stay out of it and let jeno handle them but now they lost that luxury.

however, before Samantha could lift her hand, jeno growled and lunched towards him with a clenched fist, ready to collide it with his face, but due to Juhyeon's vampirism nature, his fast reflexes allowed him to grab him by the throat mid-air. "what?" he grinned at him, "very protective over your girl, huh? how cute, how about I force you to watch how I'll—"

feeling that she gets enough of the pathetic, low-quality show of power, Samantha swiftly grabbed Juhyeon's wrist and twisted it with ease, making him lose ahold of jeno; the latter fell to the ground and caressed his neck with an irritated expression. boiled with rage, he jumped to his feet and lifted his hand, ready to punch Juhyeon's jaw, who was still yelling in pain, trying to slip off her grasp but jeno stopped dead in his track when Samantha raised her free hand signaling him to stop, Jeno just glared at him.

trashing in her hold, Juhyeon tried pushing her off with his other hand, but Samantha grinned sweetly and effortlessly broke his whole other arm, blessing her and jeno's ears with his scream. twisting his other arm and holding it behind his back, she pinned him against her torso.

"your show was entertaining but I must cut it short. your choice of words made you have lost any chance for me to demonstrate to you my mercy," she whispered in his ear. her low ominous sweet-sickening voice sent shivers down his spine, "I—W" Before he could vocal his words, she kicked his calves, forcing him to his knees.

"Now, kindly answer my friend's question," she demanded looking at the tensed-up five men. "Let him go." seeing their leader's trembling expression, one of them growled at her. "or what?" she replied with a mischievous grin. Jeno was in awe as he watched her with a fond smile.

letting a soft sigh, she clicked her tongue, "You have answered me wrongly, so as a penalty…" she trailed as she looked down at the struggling vampire kneeling down at her feet. bending a little, she brushed her fingers through his hair and tugged it up.

a flurry of gasps followed at the sight of the headless body that fell to the floor, blood pooling around the grey, desiccated corpse. jeno grimaced and scrunched his nose in disgust at the flowing blood. "you fucking bitch," one of them shouted, furiously before he whooshed towards her, only for him to halt in his track when Samantha's hand pierced into his chest.

pulling her hands out with his heart in it, he fell to the ground; his body, too, turned grey and veins start to prominent on the skin. looking at the three standing vampires, she glared at them. "anyone else?" her sudden change in her voice made even Jeno flinch.

one of them smirked and whooshed toward Jeno, hoping to use him as leverage. Jeno quickly noticed it and picked up an iron bar and slammed it to his head; killing him temporarily. "well done," she praised him before whooshing to appear before the other two vampires, looking at the blond vampire, she compelled him. "Don't move."

looking to the left, she glared at the black-haired, eyebrow-pierced vampire, he was visibly scared and that alone made Samantha's grin widen into a sadistic one, "Now, talk."

"Our boss send us in search of Mark Lee. He and his friends used to hang in this place here so we started searching here," he croaked out, Samantha's smile faded and her jaw clenched, her eyes turning whole black. jeno on the other side had his brows knitted. "what do you want from him?" he asked, dumbfounded; but Samantha knows.

breath going rugged, the blond stuttered, "Vampires can't compel …other vampires, how—" his words cut short when Samantha Slammed his brother's head with the flat of her hand before casually, turning to the blond, as if she didn't just behead his twin in front of his eyes.

drinking in his horrified expression, she calmly and slowly approached him, "Well, I'm a special vampire." he watched in panic his brother's head rolling on the ground till it stopped.

"Jeno, come here." confused and mildly nervous, Jeno obliged. "have you ever killed a vampire before?….with your bare hands?" she asked not breaking eye contact with the shaken vampire; enjoying every ounce of fear that he was displaying. "uh, not really. but I'd like to try," he finished with a crooked smile.

"hand me that stake, yes, that one near the chair. great." she stepped aside and watched him, attentively. "aim it at the heart, like that. now pierce it as hard as you can; if you want to kill him fast. slowly if you want him to suffer." tilting his head to the side, he grinned before pursing his lips, feigning an inner debate.

the gasp the blond let out made Jeno's grin widen as he watched the grey color creeping through his skin till he turned into a corpse. "fast? okay." his happy smile made her smirk at him. now that's a start. she thought.

"how about that one?" he looked at the one he knocked up earlier, "you can kill finish if you desire" he shrugged, "I think one is enough for today, thanks," she chuckled and walked toward him once she heard him groan and clutch his head.

placing the pointy edge of the heel of her boot on his throat, she looked at his nervous state as he started to choke. "who sent you behind Mark?" hearing no reply, she prodded her cheek with her tongue before pressing her heel deeper, the man under her feet gasped.

she grinned, maliciously and pressed more till blood start oozing out, and Jeno looked away immediately. from her position, she caught sight of Jeno's grimaced expression, without looking away from the man beneath her shoe, she demanded sternly "Do not look away, Lee Jeno." gulping down the lump forming in his throat, he obliged.

"O-oscar sends us- …he h-heard abo-out the doppelgänger and wanted him. every v-vampire on t-the other s-side of the city are trying to get hi-him for him—"

jeno yelped when Samantha kicked his head off with an infuriated expression. "what?" his eyes were wide in bewilderment, "what does that mean?" he asked but got no answer. seeing Samantha marching towards the exit, he followed her out to the car. 

along the ride, Samantha's jaw kept clenching to the point Jeno thought her teeth will crack at any second. he felt the tension build up and how her grip around the steering wheel tightened by the seconds that her knuckles were all white. her eyes were black as dark veins start to protrude under them. he knew something was wrong, something is happening— about to happen to one of his childhood friends but what made things blurrier is why Samantha Mikaelson was this bothered and affected by it. does she know him? Do they know each other? why would she get this angry over this?

the tension in the car was thick enough that you could slice through it with a knife and Jeno started to feel suffocated as the solemn silence became insufferable.

if what that vampire said was true; every vampire from the other side of the city is looking for Mark, then he must be in danger. Samantha felt a pang in her chest which made her exhale sharply. she had lost him a lot of times throughout her life. recollections of the centuries she spent mourning his death flooded her brain, bringing back vivid and bitter memories that she so desperately kept hidden and forgotten in the deepest part of her brain.

 I'm not going to sit around and allow that to happen. this time, he lives.

Seeing the screen of her phone lit up, she pulled it out of her pocket and skimmed the text she got, letting a sigh, she relaxed her shoulders before putting it back in her pocket. Samantha was aware of the nervousness of her car-mate, she noticed how many times jeno sighed and how he kept cracking his fingers—he was nervous. feeling her looking at him, Jeno turned to her, "Are you okay—"

"—When you hit that vampire like that, it was impressive. I'm proud of you. You're not weak like you prefer to assume, Lee Jeno. You too can be just as strong as your vampire friends. Stop looking down at yourself ." she smiled looking at him. chuckling softly, he let out a relieved breath "Thank you." he looked her in the eyes, emphasizing his genuine gratitude for her simple words. Samantha mirrored his action and smiled at him, "I think I was in the moment and got carried away a bit," he scratched his forearm, chuckling when she did.

opening the car windows to get some fresh air to cool her heated skin, she took a deep breath, "you okay?" jeno asked again, louder this time, concern lingering in his voice. smiling, she gave him a nod, "I'm fine, don't worry." It doesn't need a genius to know that something is wrong as it is very clear but Jeno chose to respect her privacy and sat back in silence again, but this time it wasn't as awkward as before.

but Jeno had no patience and he was just as stubborn as her.

"how do you know Mark?" he suspected with squinted eyes, "that's...that's a long story." she pressed her lips into a thin line and looked at him, "are you going to tell me about it?" he propped his elbow at the car door window, "eventually."

Taking a different road, Jeno sat up and looked out of the window, "this is not—", "change of plans." she cut him off him curtly, "Where are we going then?"

"My family's home."

...

parking in front of the big white house, she stepped out and jeno did the same. "Woah, this house is pretty," he exclaimed. "Klaus bought it. he does have a nice taste," she looked at him and burst into a loud laugh. his face went pale and his eyes went wide as socks, "no need to be scared. Come let go inside." she laughed again before walking down the stone path. 

pushing the door open, both Taemin and Kai stood up. "oh my god... Jeno...?!... I thought you were dead..." Kai mumbled with a shocked expression. "he was under a sleeping spell. that body wasn't him, it was someone else. it was too mutilated to be recognized anyway," taemin shrugged. 

Jeno waved awkwardly at him, not because the situation was weird but because the only Elite member he ever met was Suho and he always felt intimidated by them. One of them talking to him casually like this made him nervous.

Samantha took notice of the tight smile he was wearing and chuckled softly, "Calm down love. they're not going to eat you. unless I tell them so, so don't worry,"

"So, can we— bloody hell! why can't I still enter!?" she exclaimed. Kai chuckled at her annoyed expression but was quick to hide it, "we've been trying the whole day, even Jisung couldn't break the boundary spell," Taemin explained. "wait—what? Jisung was here?"

"Oh, yeah. your friends, right?" he nodded at Kai. "pour kid was shaken in front of Kai, wish you could've seen his face, it was priceless, so cute." looking at Samantha's face, he quickly zipped it up. 

clearing his throat, he added, "There was also a cloaking spell but Jisung lift it. but the boundary spell is still sealed. it's expanded to the entire house -the first floor included- except here; the foyer. once a vampire steps in the sealed zone, the sunlight will burn them—wearing a ring or not. " clicking her tongue, Samantha tugged on her hair, frustrated.

"what are you hiding, Klaus," she mumbled glancing at the flight of stairs. a moment later, she turned on her heel "Kai, take Jeno home, take my car," she threw her car keys at him. "sure."

"Why? Where are you going?" both Kai and taemin snapped their heads at him with widened eyes, "Okay, Jeno. Come, let us leave." Kai grabbed the confused jeno by his shoulders and pushed him to the door. he had no idea that he made them both freak out and fear that she might kill him for being rude and snoopy, but truth be told, sometimes they overreact and act dramatic for no reason. she's not that vulgar, but they refuse to acknowledge it.

"Why did you send him away?" taemin voiced out, his voice echoing in the big empty mansion, "I'm going to check on Taeil to see if he's still alive. it'd be a shame if he couldn't handle the blade for mere three days."

...

the ethereal purple-pink sky loomed on the horizon as the sun sent its last rays, only an orange hue was left creating a beautiful painting above her. The air was chilly and it nibbled on her skin but she could care less, her mind kept going back to the previous two hours she spent with her ex-lover. every time she recalls his confession, she feels more betrayed, hollow, and hurt. But the strongest feeling was rage; pure rage.  

After hopping out of the car, she stopped for a brief second to fix her sweater that fell off a little over her shoulders. She placed her coat on her arm before throwing her hair behind her back and proceeding to the house but she suddenly halted.

her vision got hazy for a split second as her breath got caught in her lungs more than it should. feeling the lack of oxygen entering her lungs, she sucked at the cold harsh breath till she felt her lungs burn. She saw him.

there he was—in flesh, sitting down on the porch of the house playing with Wes— the cat was purring happily on his lap. She knew it was him, his prominent cheekbones rising when he smiled; his perfect red lips stretching into a charming smile. his blue vibrant hair falling graciously on his honey-brown eyes. hearing his vivid chuckle made her heart flutter to the point it started to hurt.

next thing, she found herself walking toward him unconsciously, as if she were a doll and there was a puppeteer tugging on her string and controlling her. apparently, Mark noticed and obviously heard heels clacking as he slowly raised his head. his smile was long gone as he made eye contact with her soft eyes.

he placed the playful cat down and stood up dusting himself off. taking a deep breath, he swallowed it instead of exhaling it the moment he saw her arm-length away standing before him with a welcoming smile. he found himself mesmerized by the soft blueish-grey hue of her eyes, which nearly made him forget what he was about to say; however, her next three words had him frozen.

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[ethereal-choi]

~ blood sucker.

© ethereal-choi 2023–2024.

[cherryeol04]

Green Rose

➻ Pairings: ChanBaek, Chanyeol x Baekhyun

➻ Genre: romance, vampire au

➻ Additional: fluff, cute

➻ Word Count: 2.5K

➻ Warnings: N/A

➻ Author’s notes: This story is cross posted on multiple sites under the same username!

It was early one morning, slivers of sunlight shining through Baekhyun’s parted curtains. The young male laid curled up in a small ball, swaddled by his blankets in the middle of the bed. His alarm hadn’t gone off yet, but his internal clock was already telling him that it was time to get up, regardless of what the large, blaring red numbers read on his night stand. And as much as Baekhyun tried to fend off consciousness and keep himself buried in the warmth of dreamland, the warm rays of the sun is what finally stirred him enough that sleep slipped from his grasp. A soft groan left him, dark brown eyes fluttering open a few times; blurry, sleepy vision slowly correcting.

7:30AM

He was highly annoyed at the time he read. Mainly because today was his off day and while his alarm was still set, he could easily just hit snooze or turn it off and spend the morning sleeping in. He hadn’t realized how his body had already been trained to wake up early thanks to his current school semester. 8:30 AM classes all week; Psychology and Biology. At least his math class was online, because if he honestly had to take a math class so early in the morning, he would probably quit school altogether. Of course that would be the end of his life. Baekhyun shuddered at the thought of the two hour lecture he would receive from his parents, that were paying for his schooling through their life’s savings. Of which Baekhyun already felt guilty for using and was doing his best to pay back the money through the small part time jobs he could get. 

A groan left him as he pushed himself up to sit in bed. One, slim hand pressed against the left side of his head, trying to calm the throbbing of the headache already forming. Today was not going to be a good day, he could already tell. With a grunt, he pushed away his covers and got out of bed, and like he did every morning, he made his way to the window and pushed open the curtains, letting the sunlight flood his aesthetically pleasing white room. The brightness blinded his eyes, however, and he closed them tightly, waiting only a few short moments before opening them once more, allowing them to get used to the new light. On the third floor of his apartment building, Baekhyun’s bedroom window overlooked the horizon to the east, facing the mountains in the very far off distance. It was always a gorgeous and breathtaking sight and he could never get over the beauty, even though he has seen the same sight for the past two years. 

Following his regular routine, Baekhyun unlocked his window and began to push it up. He stopped though, when a rose caught his attention. It was just laying there, on his windowsill, as if it had always been there, like that was home. Though Baekhyun was 100% sure that the plant had not been there the night before. But what was really odd (besides the fact that there was a rose on his windowsill on the third story of a building) was that it was green. And not like an icky light green, or a puke green, or even a neon green. But a beautiful dark green. It was a color that Baekhyun had never seen before, but he truly loved it. With a slight smile, he pushed his window all the way up and locked it into position, letting in the fresh, outside air. He grabbed the rose with delicate, long fingers, cradling it in his hands as he examined it. It was pure green. There was no hint of another color inside it, as if it had been dyed. It was all green...all natural.

Or was it? Could a green rose be natural if one had never actually been seen before? Then again, maybe it was just an undiscovered species of rose. Of course that also brought up the question of how it got there. Many outrageous ideas ran through his mind. Like maybe scaling the building to set the rose there. Or maybe a magical being hovered in the air to plant the rose there? Or maybe, and this was the scariest idea, someone snuck into his apartment while he was asleep and left the rose there. That seemed more like a plausible idea though, as terrifying as it was. Baekhyun knew he could be a very heavy sleeper and it was possible for someone to come into his home and he would never know it. 

A cold shiver ran down his back and Baekhyun nearly dropped the rose in his hands.The thought of someone coming in and seeing him in such a vulnerable position was so terrifying he almost didn’t want to keep the rose now. Almost. But despite his better judgment, he scavenged around his apartment until he found a suitable cup he could use as a vase and placed the rose inside, setting it on his desk. It was a pop of color in his nearly all white room. It strangely suited the place and Baekhyun kind of wanted to have more.

Baekhyun got his wish the next morning. Following his normal routine, Baekhyun was greeted with another green rose at his windowsill. It was just as gorgeous as the first and just as mysterious. How did it get there? Why was it there and who put it there? These were the questions that were constantly eating at Baekhyun. Has someone mistaken his apartment for someone else's? He wouldn’t be surprised. He didn’t consider himself anything special. He was just an average college student with an above average talent in singing, but that was about it. He never tried to overachieve, never really tried to be the center of attention (even though he had a loud and outgoing personality). He considered himself normal, lived a normal life. Who would risk their life to leave him a rose on his windowsill? It was quite confusing to him, but somehow he found it strangely endearing. The second rose found a home with the first and Baekhyun went on about his day, going to class and hanging out with his friends. 

When night came, he sat on his bed in his duck pajamas, eyes trained on the window. He wondered if his secret stalker admirer would come again. Would he wake up to find another green rose, or would he be dead? He wasn’t sure and he certainly didn’t like how wild his imagination was running at the moment, but all of them were plausible scenarios. But honestly, what could Baekhyun even do? It could just be a fluke he was getting the roses and eventually the person would realize that he was leaving them at the wrong window (however he was managing to leave them), or maybe he should arm himself with a weapon in case this all was intentional and he really did have a crazy stalker.

That night, Baekhyun went to sleep with a knife tucked under his pillow and a mind filled with worry. Morning came quickly and Baekhyun was pleasantly surprised to find himself still alive. And just like the morning before, there was a single green rose waiting for him on the windowsill. Baekhyun placed the rose with the others and continued about his day. For the next month or so, Baekhyun continued to wake up to a green rose on his windowsill, which he continued to add to his collection. By the 28th rose, Baekhyun was starting to really wonder who was leaving these roses and why. He was pretty sure it was no longer someone sneaking into his apartment to leave the roses. Especially when he made sure to deadbolt the locks every night. One night he even moved his dresser to block the door so no one could and still there was a rose left. It was a mystery to him, a freaky mystery. And to add weirdness to this mystery, Baekhyun also noticed that the roses never died. Sure he filled the vase with water and left the roses near the window for sunlight, but he never did any real tending to them. They should have died, but they didn’t. They were just as bright, perky and alive as they were the first day he found them. It was interesting if not a little creepy. 

Curiosity was finally getting the best of him and Baekhyun decided that this would be the night that he would stay up late. He would wait, in the darkness, by the window to see who was leaving him roses and finally confront him about it. His plan was half decent enough, or at least he thought it was. Surely nothing could possibly go wrong. So that’s what he did. As night fell, Baekhyun turned off his lights in his room and took a seat next to his window. He wanted to be close, but not too close where he could possibly be caught, because that would just ruin it all. If whoever it was saw him before they left the rose, Baekhyun may never actually solve the mystery of the green rose. Resting his head on the wall, waiting as patiently as his patient little butt would allow him, but by two in the morning, he was already falling asleep. With one passing look at the clock, he noted to himself it was only 2:30 in the morning, and slowly darkness enveloped him. 

He was shaken from his sleep by a slight chill. It started on his cheek and slowly traveled downwards, making him shiver slightly. It was pulling him from the warmth of his dreams and as he became aware, he realized it almost felt like wind blowing on him. And while he knew he was at his window, he didn’t remember leaving his window open. So did that mean…?

Eyes snapping open, Baekhyun was greeted with an open window and once more on his windowsill, there was a green rose, laying neatly on top of it. But unlike the other 28 times, this time there was a piece of paper tucked neatly under the rose. With a shaking hand, he reached out and grabbed it carefully. Laying the rose in his lap, he unfolded the paper and read over the few, short words that were written.

‘We’ll meet soon, Baekhyun.’

Baekhyun’s eyes slowly moved back to the window, staring out into the dark of the night, skies only illuminated by the artificial light of the street lamps below. Indeed, there was someone who was really leaving him these roses every night. Someone who knew how to scale a building up 3 stories without being seen or heard. A person who knew his name, yet he was almost sure he had never met this person before. The stalker idea came back full force, but once more his rational side wasn’t fully convinced. Wouldn’t this person have already tried to be with him or kill him or done something more than just leave roses? Didn’t stalkers usually want their victims to know who they were and why they were stalking them? This honestly didn’t make any sense to Baekhyun.

It just continued to leave him confused. He let out a tired sigh and slowly stood, the rose tumbling to the floor. He stared at it for a moment, not really seeing it, but just staring. His mind went blank, as if in a trance, but as quickly as it started, it stopped and he snapped out of it. Shaking his head, he bent down and picked up the rose, holding it in his left hand while he closed the window and locked it once more with his right hand. He made his way to his desk and placed the rose in his makeshift vase of a cup with the other roses before shuffling his way to the bed. Crawling in, he slipped under his covers and curled himself up into a ball and laid there, letting sleep once more overcome him.

The following night, Baekhyun was determined to stay awake and meet this mysterious man. So instead of going to class that day he stayed at home and slept for as long as he could, which was only until the late afternoon. However, armed with the most sugary drink he could find, he set himself up once more by the window and stared out into the darkness. He made it till about one in the morning before his eyes started growing heavy once again. He tried to keep himself awake with more sugar (candy and soda), but he couldn't feel their effects like he had at the beginning. He struggled for nearly an hour to keep his eyes open, but eventually he succumbed to sleep, eyes closing with one last blurry look to the window. He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep or what actually woke him back up, but something did. Sleepy eyes opened and he looked around confused for a moment before he realized what was happening in front of his face. 

The window was opening. And it took all of his strength not to just jump up right then and there and see what was going on. Baekhyun realized that his nightly visitor wasn’t aware that he was awake yet, so Baekhyun was going to sit there and wait, at least until the window was fully open. It was an agonizing three seconds but the window was eventually open and Baekhyun saw the hand reaching through, green rose clutched into thick fingers. It was a quick movement, Baekhyun wasn’t even aware that he thought it, but he grabbed the wrist and pulled. The green rose fell from his fingers, a head coming through his open window and he was greeted to the site of the most handsome man he had ever seen. He was in shock and awe that this man was the one who was leaving roses on his windowsill. Speaking of which….

Baekhyun stood and moved closer, trying to see what the other was standing on in order to get to his third story window, but saw nothing. Nothing but just this man. How was that even possible? A deep chuckle left his visitor and Baekhyun found his hand removed from the other’s wrist. “Seems we finally meet.” His voice was so deep, it sent shivers down Baekhyun’s spine. “But unfortunately I can’t stay to chat. Maybe another time.” The male ducked back out of his window and Baekhyun gasped, rushing forward, hands pressed on his windowsill.

“Wait!” he called, but there was no one there. No sound. Nothing. It was like the man had never been there. His nameless visitor had appeared and like a ghost, had disappeared into the dark of night, leaving more questions than answers in his wake. He was handsome, with beautifully thick fingers. His voice was deep, almost melodic and Baekhyun was craving to hear more. 

 “I don’t even know your name.” The words barely passed his lips before he heard a whisper, from the familiar voice and for some reason it gave him a sense of hope. Hope this wouldn’t be the last time they would meet and like promised, next time, they could do more than just stare at each other.

“Chanyeol.”

[marshmallow-phd]

A Manor of Shadow and Blood

Genre: Regency Gothic AU

Pairing: EXO x Reader

Summary: A stormy night brought you to the manor in the middle of the woods. Nine strange men occupied its halls. They won’t let you leave. A dangerous secret haunts this estate. Learning it might either be your saving grace or it could lead to the last breath you ever take.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5

**

Leaning against the faded brick of the manor inspecting his cuticles was the one you remembered as Baekhyun.

"You've hardly cared in the past," Jongdae said drily. He shifted so subtly and minutely that you would have missed it if you hadn't been looking at him, silently pleading for protection. And, for some reason, he'd given it to you. That small shift was enough for him to come between you and Baekhyuon. 

"We haven't had this kind of excitement for a while." Baekhyun leaned to his left so he could see you. "Enjoying the moonlight?"

"That seems to be a normal activity in this place,” you murmured. Jongdae sent a rather pointed look in your direction. The message was clear. Speaking was not wise. 

The left corner of Baekhyun's mouth curled upwards. "Mind if I join you?" 

"You don't have an errand to run?" Jongdae raised an expectant brow. 

A deep, rumbling chuckle slowly escaped from Baekhyun's lips. He leaned forward menacingly. "Already done." 

Jongdae released a sigh full of resignation. His gaze moved to you. If protest was to be given, then it had to come from you. But fear kept the two-letter word from passing your lips. 

Gathering your skirt in your hands, you said nothing as you passed both of the men and continued on your walk. They quickly fell into step on either side of you. No one spoke, letting the silence become the norm as you took in the manor from a new angle. But it was difficult to focus. 

On your right, you could feel Baekhyun's closeness. One inch separated an accidental brush of fingers. The flutter of his loose sleeve continuously caught your attention. A wind had picked up, moving the distracting fabric even more. Giving in to your peripheral, you watched Baekhyun as he stretched his neck from side to side, his grin now gone. The long lithe fingers of his right hand gently massaged the soft skin. 

"Are you injured?" 

The idiotic question was out before you could think it through. Jongdae, apparently done with the protector role, shook his head with a huff and roll of his eyes. Baekhyun's earlier demeanor returned in force. No longer walking, Baekhyun shifted his body and gradually leaned in. 

"Why? Do you want to... take care of me?" 

"No," you said sharply, trying to make your voice a cracking whip. It was the wrong approach. His grin grew and something flashed behind his lips. Your eyes refused to leave his own. He came closer. No matter how hard you willed it, your feet refused to move. 

"Baekhyun." 

At the soft, confident call of his name, Baekhyun backed away, a rather... grumpy expression on his face. 

Junmyeon approached the group with his usual authoritative air, hands clasped behind his back and hair somewhat tousled. "Will I have to keep an eye on all of you at all times?" he asked in a very exasperated voice. His gaze narrowed in on Baekhyun. "Don't you have an errand to run?" 

Baekhyun straightened, gleefully replying, "Already done." 

Junmyeon didn’t waver. "Go find another." 

Slackjawed, Baekhyun glanced at Jongdae for a possible retort. When he gave no protest, Baekhyun turned to you, as if you would protest his dismissal. Quite the contrary, you were thankful for it. 

Knowing he'd lost, Baekhyun whirled quickly on his boots before stomping away. 

"Jongdae," Junmyeon moved in closer. "I'd like to speak to her alone." 

Not caring for this sudden dismal towards him, Jongdae shrugged and held the bag of buns out for you.

"No, thank you,” you said bitterly. He was abandoning you to the most terrifying wolf. The food already in your stomach churned and threatened to come up again at the thought of being alone with Junmyeon. What would he do with no witnesses to intervene?

Your acidic response slid right off of Jongdae. Swinging the bag by his side, he walked away without a second thought for you.

"There's still some path around the house,” Junmyeon said, suddenly appearing by your side, his elbow offered out for you. When you didn't accept his elbow, he took possession of your hand and held it hostage in the crook of his arm.

You would be going with him whether you found it agreeable or not. 

"I want to apologize for keeping you here," he said rather cooly, as if he were apologetic about missing dinner.

You scoffed at the heartless comment. "The only true apology would be to let me go."

"That was my original intention." 

You stopped just before the turn around the corner. With the hold he had on your hand, Junmyeon's steps also came to a halt."You– You were going to let me go?" Your throat constricted. What had happened to snatch your freedom away so quickly? "Then why keep me?" 

Junmyeon sighed and forced you to continue the walk. "We took care of you for the days you were sick with fever and realized we've been missing a feminine touch around here. It brings out the better sides of us." 

You didn’t believe him for a second. "The better side of you? I hate to see the lesser side." 

He leveled his eyes with you, his features hardened like stone. "No one is to touch you." 

"Really?" You scoffed. "Should I list the few incidents just in the past twenty-four hours?" 

Junmyeon’s eyes flashed. "Sehun has been reprimanded. That won't happen again." 

"And Mr. Yixing?" 

"Mr. Yixing? What about him?" He blinked, confused.  

"He was in my room last night." 

"What!" His voice cracked like the lightning before the storm rolled in. You flinched at his severe reaction. Realizing your face was full of fear, he composed himself. His voice came out more gentle. "He will be reprimanded. No one is to go into your room without permission." A frown knitted his brow. "Is that why you fortified the door?" 

You swallowed, forgetting that he had tried to enter earlier this evening. "Yes. Yes, it is." 

The way he nodded gave you reason to believe that…. Well, that he might actually be listening. 

"No one will ever enter your room without permission again," he promised. His leveled gaze made you believe him. 

"Even you?" you asked. 

His throat visibly constricted, but he didn't argue. "Even me." 

As relieved as you were for that promise, you couldn't be entirely ecstatic. "Why keep me here? 

The earlier coolness and arrogance of his demeanor had washed away. "I told you. We need a companion."

"We?" You pulled away from him, disgusted. For reasons unknown, he let you slip from his grasp this time. "I'm not something to be passed around for you all to play with." 

"Of course not." A ghost of a smile began to cut in the corners of his lips. "You'll choose. In time. Whoever you wish, we are at your disposal. Until then, you’re all our guest."

"That doesn't make any sense,” you pushed. "You're all fine gentlemen." In looks anyway. Manners was an entirely different  discussion. "Surely by the end of the season in town, you can all find a suitable wife." 

"We... have our reasons," he said slowly. "Your traditional ways aren't suited for us." 

"My traditional ways?" What could that possibly mean? 

Junmyeon didn’t explain. He merely took your hand and pressed cool lips to your knuckles.

"In time, you will come to see the truth. Until then, no harm will come to you." He turned your hand over and gave another kiss to your wrist. Letting you go, he walked away, his promise still lingering behind. 

On the edge of the gardens, a small swing made of a simple plank of wood and two long ropes hung from a mighty tree. It whispered a minute comfort. Not having been on one since your childhood, you were wary of sitting on the sun faded seat, unsure if the fringed ropes would hold your grown woman weight. 

There was no governess or wealthy aunt around to warn you of snagging your dress with such unladylike behavior. With cautious movements, you slowly turned and sat on the swing. The ropes didn't snap. 

Not wanting to test your luck, you didn't push yourself into full motion. No, you simply kept your toes on the ground, shifting only slightly from side to side. 

It was peaceful here, in this tucked away corner between the manor and maze-like hedges of the garden. No one else seemed to be around and that allowed you space to think. This was to be your home for... a longtime, it would appear. The negatives were more than obvious. So much that dwelling on them was pointless. That meant you needed to try and find a good thing in this situation. 

Your aunt. 

Well, that was easy. 

While she wasn't really a terrible human being, having to serve as her companion wasn't pleasant. Every whim of hers had to be met, the truth of your dowry hung over your head. And she could be as demanded as the Queen. Her holiday was not to be your holiday. 

And then there was the matter of your future. 

It wasn't that you didn't want to get married–you did. But you wanted love, passion. You wanted fire in your blood and yearning that could never be quenched. You wanted to know what it was like to be desperate for another person’s touch. Someone who looked at you with a gaze that sent your heart racing. Perfectly adequate was not what you wanted. 

Perfectly adequate was what your aunt was planning for you. Perhaps even less than adequate.

The rustling of nestled branches pulled you from your depressive, lonely thoughts. Kyungsoo had emerged from the garden hedges, his boots crunching to a halt on the rocky path. He stared at you with a horrified expression. The first bit of emotion you'd seen from him and it was accompanied by widened eyes and tightened lips. Was there something wrong with you merely sitting here? 

The one called Chanyeol appeared behind him. His gaze was more on the friendly side, something resembling a smile sent over to you. He took a step to start your way, but Kyungsoo grabbed a hold of his sleeve and dragged him away.

"Don't mind Kyungsoo, he avoids us all at one time or another." 

Jongdae suddenly chopped from the branches, landing on his feet beside you. Standing from the seat, you glowered at him. "You've come back, have you?" 

"If Junmyeon wishes to speak with you alone, then I'll give him that wish." His tone suggested that Junmyeon's wishes were met more like commands. 

"Well," you huffed, "then please obey my wish to be alone right now." 

Jongdae bowed deeply yet mockingly. He stayed behind, watching as you retreated back into the house.

Shoving the door closed, you leaned back against the wooden barrier that separated the main hall from the outside world. Only a few days ago, you had stumbled through those very doors, desperate for sanctuary. As insane as it sounded, perhaps you were given a bit more of a sanctuary than you had asked for. 

With a new resignation, you continued forward until you reached the main parlor on your left. 

The room was empty. Signs of recent usage were scattered amongst the furniture. Red stained goblets, chairs pushed away from the card table, a blanket half falling from an armchair. Thin slivers of moonlight broke through the heavy curtains, cutting across the floor like knives shattering the darkness. 

You stepped in further, drawn in by the grand piano off in the far left corner. It was so large it took up nearly a fourth of the room. Its black coat shimmered, even with your dull eyes. Someone loved this instrument, that was certain. They kept it polished and tuned. The ivory keys beckoned to create music. 

But you didn’t know how. Of all of the lessons to educate you that you latched onto, the piano had not been one. Still….

You jumped at the piercing sound of the plucked cord, a quiet gasp passing your lips. Your finger had pressed down on its own accord. Eyes frantically searched behind you, but none of the men appeared. You brushed your fingers along the keys, astonished by their softness. If only you could play the songs you knew in your heart. 

A hand suddenly covered yours. Several keys screeched at your second jump. 

Chanyeol didn’t apologize for scaring you or say anything gentle at all. Your mouth went dry in worry as he removed his cool hand from yours. You watched as he rolled the sleeves of his black silk shirt up to his elbows. He didn’t look up at you. He sat down on the bench and began to play. 

For a moment, you simply stood and listened. But you needed to be closer. Closer to the music, to the beauty that was being created before you. The remainder of the bench was under you before he could second guess. Your eyes fluttered close as the notes drifted up from the piano and wrapped around you, protective, whispering sweet nothings in your ear like nothing you had heard before. They were a lover, a comfort. You could lose yourself in that melody forever. 

The song too soon faded to an end. Your eyes remained closed, desperate to hold on. 

“Did you like it?” Chanyeol whispered. His deep voice was so low you almost missed it. All you could do to answer was nod. Coldness touched your cheek. Your eyes snapped open. 

Chanyeol was only an inch or so away, his dark eyes staring not at your own gaze, but lower. He ran his tongue over his lips. All you could do was breathe. 

You'll choose. In time. Whoever you wish, we are at your disposal.

The fingers against your cheek drifted down and brushed against your collar bone. 

In a blink, he was gone, only the ghost of his touch and the echo of the melody left behind.

Your breath quickened in panic. Jumping from the bench, you ran out into the hallway. The barely visible back of Chanyeol was on the edge of darkness. 

“Wait!” you called out to him. “Mr. Chanyeol, wait!”

He paused. Then slowly turned around so his face, half covered in shadow, was to you. 

“Play it again,” you begged. You wanted to hear more. Needed to hear more. And, he didn’t scare you. Not in this moment. You had been wanting to discover a story for yourself that you had read a thousand times. Perhaps, this could be the beginning. 

A shining smile growing on his face, Chanyeol nodded and came back to you for another song. 

*****

Chanyeol played for hours, never tiring or stumbling over the keys. Every note came from within himself. He never pulled out a single piece of sheet music. Each time one song ended, he paused only long enough to seek approval from you for another before beginning the next. 

For most of the concert, you sat in silent appreciation, but occasionally, you risked speaking to ask about the piece he was currently playing. Nearly all were his own compositions.

"How have you had time to write all of these?" you asked as the newest song came to a close. 

His fingers paused on the last keys, elongating the notes in a way that felt out of place. Throughout his playing, he had looked at you to gauge your reactions. But now he kept his eyes on the instrument, his brow furrowed. 

"I've had a lot of time," he said quietly. "All the time I could have asked for." He lifted his hand from the keys and stretched his fingers, curling them inward and then back out again. 

You laughed light-heartedly." You look hardly eight and twenty,"

"Have you been composing your whole life?" A forced smile pulled tightly at his lips. 

"For a very long time." 

You frowned at the cryptic answer. But your stomach prevented you from pushing another question onto him. The gurgling sound was soft, but enough to bring your hand to your stomach. 

"Oh, that's right," Chanyeol chuckled softly. "I forgot you have to eat." 

"Yes, I do that on occasion." The memory of his lack of dinner the other night brewed in your mind. And he said “you have to eat”. Not “we”. Was it merely a slip of the tongue? "Will you show me the kitchen?" 

"The kitchen?" he echoed. 

You nodded. "Yes. I don't need a full meal. Some bread, cheese, and salted meat would suffice." 

"Oh, erm." He stood from the bench somewhat clumsily. "Actually, you stay here and I’ll fetch you some food." 

"But-”

He was gone before your tongue could click on the “T”. 

"Well, humph." That was abrupt. It wasn’t as if you had asked to see the coffers. You merely asked to go to the kitchen. 

Many times at home you had prepared your own midday meal. There were obviously no servants around here. What could be wrong with you entering a measly kitchen? You had half a mind to go try and find it yourself, but... you were hungry. And if you got lost, it could be a decent amount of time before you were able to eat. You could always search another time. 

Standing up from the bench, you wandered over to one of the tables still holding a dirty goblet. Remnants of deep red wine stained the inside of the glass.

At first glance, the drying liquid looked like any dry red wine you'd seen a hundred times. But there was something odd about the way it coated the glass. The thick red stain it left behind....

You wiped a finger around the inside and brought the coating closer to your vision. There was a stickiness to it that was different from your previous experiences with spilling the nightly drink. And the color... it was richer, more striking red than a deep purple. A color you had seen time and time again. You pressed the finger to your tongue. And immediately spat the taste out. 

Blood. 

It was undeniably blood mixed in the wine. What the hell were these men? 

"Do you insist on being everywhere?" 

You stumbled back from the deep voice, your hand colliding with the goblet. The delicate cup flew off the table towards the hardwood floor. Before it could shatter As a million pieces, a hand snatched hold off the goblet. 

Kyungsoo didn't replace the goblet onto the table. He stared at you with a hardened expression. His dark eyes like hickory seemed filled with shadow. 

"What are you?" you whispered, your heart beating so fast it was traveling up your throat. 

Blood, reflexes, cold breath. 

Things that weren't human yet familiar to you anyway. Somewhere in the back crevices of your childhood. 

Kyungsoo leaned in, forcing you back until you stumbled into one of the chairs. 

"What are we?" he scoffed mockingly. His top lip curled upward, revealing unnaturally long canines. "Figure the monster out for yourself." 

Fear charged through you like a prized stallion. You scrambled past him to get away, tripping over the hem of your dress as you fled. Chanyeol reappeared in the entrance, two others by his side and a tray of the exact morsels you had asked for laid out in an intricate picture in his hands. But you didn't pause long enough to appreciate it. You ran from the room, their confusion in your wake.

You ran until you reached the sanctuary of your room. You shoved all you could in front of your door to keep them out, keep them all out. 

Reflexes, grace fullness, nighttime. 

Blood, cold breath... fangs. 

Not human. 

Monster. 

That was what Kyungsoo had said. Had called himself. You were in a house of monsters. But what kind of monsters? 

Gathering the blanket from the floor, you crawled onto the bed and buried yourself under the fabric shield. Immediately, the air grew hot, but still you folded in on yourself, your arms tight around your shoulders. Eyes squeezed shut, you wondered how you ended up here, what you had done to deserve it. 

You prayed silent prayers that you make it simply through the night.

[miabbh]

Feel it by blackwhiskers on aff is a vampire au feat Baekhyun. The third bride by lavenderseagirl16 on aff also has similar feel like vampire!au. Baekhyun isn't a vampire but his character is very much like a vampire.

I am so touched you're recommending me things to read!

I'll check them out, thank you soooo much ♥️

[norikuna]

CREAM SODA — gojo satoru minors dni

prologue. → you've always known that gojo satoru is a real piece of work. arrogant, haughty. definitely has a praise kink for when people always call him 'the strongest.' but you're not even friends anymore, so this isn't any of your business...right?

what you didn't know is just how nasty he is, caging you in front of a mirror to lick away blood that he spilled from the veins of another man, one who dared to touch you.

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. secondary love interest in the form of a random oc, jjk lore being mildly twisted, history around the world, in-jujutsu universe (not an au), gojo going feral and batshit bonkers, rough séx, créampíe, INSANE glass-shattering jealousy, hate séx but only a bit, brééding, oràl (f. receiving). enemies to lovers, former friends, PLOT AND WORLD BUILDING BTW this isn't pẃp, éxhibitionísm, mirror séx, overstímulàtion, bratty reader but with a reason to be a hater, working together on a mission, mentions of alcohol and the crime underworld, DEFINITELY a bit dark because reader goes through emotional whiplash, descriptions of a fight and heavy injury, biting because i always somehow write gojo as a vampire type of freak?? the PRIME example of the miscommunication tropes and a case where neither person is in the right...nuance is your friend here, fake bodyguard!gojo, reader wears a dress + makeup for a formal event, angst, hurt, lashing out, some comfort and fluff

excerpt: part of you knows that you just aren't seeing those pearly gates of heaven.

you know there's going to be a bouncer at the doors, with your face printed on a photo titled: dni! fraud! liar! the world's most incompetent jujutsu sorcerer! would bounce into a criminal's bed at first chance!

word count. 22k!!!!!!! AURKAY!! song inspiration. cream soda — exo, is there someone else — the weeknd

a/n. spent way too long trying to learn ps for the header 😭 wrote this only because of the new grey suit gojo art <3 there's a secondary love interest in this for the ✨ plot ✨ but he's just a character i made up for this story. i would have used one of the other jjk men but it would made it into an au that i didn't feel like expanding on 😭

mp3.. feel that tinglin', that silky smooth cream, each swirl deepens the flavor, babe. baby, go dumb dumb!

"f-fuck, if i had known it felt like this, would've stuck my fingers in h-her a long time ago," gojo unfurls his fingers that only just separated from your fluttering pussy, and you can only watch.

equally mesmerised as his slender fingers are coated in strands of your slick, clinging to the curves of his short nails and coating them in a mirror sheen.

"have some c-class, gojo! you've lost your fuckin' mind -"

smack!

the dewy pads of his fingers have come down in a harsh arc, slapping right at your throbbing clit, and the jolt sends such an incredible crack of lightning down your spine that you're bucking your hips back up into his hand, back for more.

"some class? hah, 'm not able to do that now, baby," and you can feel gojo shudder under your touch, as you paw at the linen of his black dress shirt, raking your nails over his pectorals, "not when it f-feels like your pussy is about to, fuck, vacuum my fingers off."

"i swear to god, gojo. never say that corny shit a-again."

but it's hard to convey any sense of righteous fury like this. not when he's back to pushing the tapered ends of his long fingers in and out of your tight heat. each brush from the pads of his fingertips leaves you squealing, tugging at the snowy strands on the back of his head.

but gojo's teeth are sharp as they sink into the damp skin of your neck with an almost reverent press, easily snapping through the delicate flesh.

and you're squealing, shocked at how fucking bold gojo satoru has become, whining at how a sharp hiss pulses through you, and you can feel the warmth of blood beginning to bloom and pool over your collarbone.

"shit, 'm sorry, baby. so sorry. but i'm gonna need to see you l-like this," and suddenly gojo snaps away the pussydrunk babble falling from his candied mouth, and he's pressing a searing kiss to your jaw, and the air becomes hazy with the scent of an insanely expensive cologne, cedar and something...sweet, like cardamom.

still, there's hardly time to dissect that.

not when his thick arm is around your waist, handling you until you're smack bang between his legs, right between dark slacks. and gojo has shifted, so your back is flat against the hard planes of his chest, and your knuckles can only grip at the vanity sink. so your eyes can only see your naked torso twisting in the mirror.

"keep your eyes h-here, sweets. on us."

wait. you need to pause this tape, and do a little rewind.

how did you end up here, getting finger-fucked in a luxury five star suite? by the one man on earth that you swore that you could never stand?

(earlier that day)

the chandeliers had been shimmering overhead like stars, each fine crystal caught the golden light and scattered it across the grand lobby, and it was making your eyes flare and twitch.

this entire hotel felt frozen in time, some opulent relic of the roaring twenties, translated straight into tokyo's beating heart.

it was all so...pristine, and gaudy. and even the air carried that faint scent of hefty chanel no.5 and furniture polish.

but hey, this cheque wasn't coming out of your pocket, so who were you to complain?

that's how you rationalised it to yourself, right after a smartly-dressed waiter had floated past with a tray of shimmering champagne, one that you had easily helped yourself to.

ah, fuck it.

let the bill rack up on yaga's card. the least he could do after volunteering you to the higher ups for this mission.

a thick folder rested in your lap, clipped papers inside threatening to spill over from the sheer volume of information, that made your head spin.

of course, it was all courtesy of the jujutsu administration's obsession with drowning sorcerers in needless bureaucracy. and so you leafed through it idly, your thumb skimming over the crisp edges.

names, places, dates, all laid out in haphazard detail.

what a mess, it was a lot, but not enough to fill in the gaps that gnawed at you. the higher ups never gave you everything, fuck, they hated making it easy. still, your eyes caught onto key phrases.

urgent recall of cursed object. yes, that's why you were here. and not enjoying your saturday afternoon at home.

declaration of most expenses covered, in the instances of losing a limb. fair enough, insurance was honestly hell these days.

gain access to the auction being held by the voiceless. find their leader, naoki sato.

you knew of the voiceless, most higher grade jujutsu sorcerers did. a crime syndicate so shrouded in mystery. operating overseas for decades without so much as a cloudy whisper to the general public.

you made an unimpressed face as you kept reading, crinkling sheets under your fingers. smuggling, extortion, and a great deal of unexplained murders that would leave the cast of criminal minds scratching their heads.

how tasteless. still, you weren't the law, each to their own.

however, something made this case different. it made it your apparent problem.

for the voiceless were not your usual ragtag team of ruffian criminals, intent on scamming the vulnerable and sad.

their ranks comprised of wayward jujutsu sorcerers, with a hearty appetite for special artefacts, including cursed objects.

and now here they were, back on tokyo's soil, their hands covered with more than just the regular mundane crimes that could land a man behind bars for life.

you shifted in the plush, sinking seat. flipped to a page that had been practically painted in the most unforgiving shade of neon yellow highlighter.

ah, so this was the cursed object. raijin's amulet.

there was a grainy, slightly off-centre photograph clipped to the top of the document. the image was not much to look out, all washed colours and shadows that clearly didn't speak highly of the skills of whoever was behind the camera.

a circular pendant, a darkened forged creation of bronze and jade, covered in the soot of the ages gone by. spiralled with intricate carvings that reminded you of swirling storm clouds on a summer's evening.

and at it's centre sat a jagged shard of some precious golden stone, rough-hewn at the edges.

you were certain that this was the cause behind the distorted photography, for a modern camera was simply just not meant to capture such high levels of cursed energy.

there was even a faint shape of a dragon coiled around the pendant's edges, with its claws gripping the frame as if guarding it...or imprisoning it.

you weren't sure which. you're not sure you wanted to know which.

the accompanying notes were sparse, filled with frustrated gaps that left you squinting.

believed to be an ancient relic of the heian era. captured from the treasure hoard of the early medieval sorcerer, ryōmen sukuna, after his death.

huh, you hadn't heard that name since your school-days, back when you had poured over fraying history tomes, trying to pen the perfect essay to beat out suguru's flawless grades.

said to be imbued with the power of the lightning deity, raijin. capable of summoning and manipulating thunder, and disrupting various veils and curtains. last known location: the british museum, 1982. current location: unconfirmed.

clearly not an artefact meant to sit behind public museum glass.

dangerous in the wrong hands, and priceless in the hands of all. this must have been at least leagues above your current pay grade.

your thumb hovered over the corner of the page, bruising the white paper underneath as you scanned over the rest of the text, hoping and looking for a section that would be titled: and here's how to track raijin's amulet down and find it, with no bloodshed, and just in time for dinner!

no such luck.

"figures," you muttered under your breath, shoving the folder shut with a disgusted sigh.

this entire mission reeked of playing politics. for years, the voiceless had operated under the radar of other nations, disguising the tell-tale jujutsu as unexplained natural disasters and accidents.

there had been no intervention. they had been untouchable because no-one had the foreign jurisdiction, nor the guts to intervene.

but now, with the voiceless back on home soil, it seemed the higher ups wanted to make a statement. something like 'hey, we're actually useful at our jobs of protecting the jujutsu world!' and who better to clean up their mess than you and...

gojo satoru.

speak of the devil. you glanced up towards the grand entrance of the hotel lobby, as an unfortunate doorman stood by revolving, glass doors.

your...partner strode in, with dark sunglasses perched on his nose, and you scrunched your nose, taking in his appearance.

despite gojo's striking features that could render anyone speechless, he always looked like an odd bird of prey to you.

hawkish with creepy eyes, like a big snowy owl that had been hit by a curse, transforming him and forcing him to assimilate into the world of humans.

"i wasn't sure if you would come," you called, hoping that you masked the bitterness well that he had arrived, and significantly decreased the quality of your day.

"you wouldn't say that in bed," was gojo's snarky, automated reply, before he gave you a mildly embarrassed look, as if his immature mouth moved faster than his common sense did.

"still, sorry to keep you waiting," and gojo was crushing the heel of his boot into the cream marble of the floor, tapping it, all ridiculously long legs in the same uniform dress pants that you also donned, "traffic was hell."

"you don't even have a license," you grouched with a glare that you hoped was sharp enough to cleave time and space, but you stood up all the same, "and i wasn't waiting, i was working."

click! click!

gojo snapped his fingers, reaching for the folder stacked in your arms, "yes, of course you were, sweets," and he clicked his tongue, "now, why don't you hand that to me, and go check us in? i can look over what i need to do, let's get this done before night falls."

the audacity. the absolute nerve. how so typically gojo. swooping in at the last minute for kill shot, as usual, while others poured through all the paperwork, and did all the mental heavy lifting.

"you mean what we need to do, gojo," you snapped, your scowl deepening, "you're the late one. you go check us in."

gojo arched a pale brow, and the corner of his mouth twitched as though he wished he could just unwalk through those doors now, caught between amusement and exasperation. "you used to be so nice. what happened?"

"tsk! i think you happened, gojo. didn't ask to be stuck here with you."

"ah, so you do think about me, at least. but now you're jus' so difficult all the time."

"fuck off, i'm not difficult!" you shot back, before shrinking at the foul look that an elderly couple had directed your way, muttering something about how youth just didn't know how to act indoors, "i'm just saying it's not fair -"

"fine, whatever. don't care, sweets," gojo interrupted, already rolling big, blue eyes and turning away, "i'll go do it. you just stay nice and comfortable here."

and just like that, after comfortably raising your blood pressure (and heart rate), gojo satoru strode off towards the vast front desk, hands shoved lazily into his pockets, as though the two of you weren't on the clock to hunt down and find a dangerous criminal, his syndicate and a cursed object.

you trailed behind him, resisting the violent urge to grab his stupid sunglasses and fling them across the lobby. or stomp on them.

or just sit on them.

meanwhile, your eyes landed on the last and final page of the file, where a bright pink sticky note stood out sharply against the dull black and white of the case file.

final task: retrieve artefact. execute naoki sato on site. alternatively, bring in for execution.

the words were scrawled in thick, impatient strokes of a black marker. the kind that spoke more of efficiency, than humanity.

typical. there was just nothing that higher ups of the jujutsu world loved more than lopping the head off anyone that they deemed inconvenient. quick, clean and final.

still, this decision wasn't your business, not really.

you looked up to see gojo casually leaning against the counter, and his entire demeanour radiated smooth confidence as he spoke to the receptionist.

the sweet-looking woman had fumbled her worlds almost immediately, and she had dropped her pen twice. and he had caught it with an easy smile and wink that would have made you roll your eyes clean out of your skull.

you wanted to gag.

in less than a minute, gojo had the black keycard in his hand, spinning it between his fingers like some trophy as he sauntered towards the elevators.

you sighed as he stopped in front of you, extending the card with a flourish, like a knight presenting a courtier with a wreath of fresh-cut flowers.

"we're here for a mission, gojo. not to get it wet."

the tips of his ears flushed a bright, vibrant red. but his grin didn't falter as he huffed, and snatched the keycard back. leaving your arm floundering in the air before you dropped it.

"how crude. that's not even what i asked her. but still, you're welcome, sweets," he had said, stepping into the elevator and holding the door open for you with an exaggerated stretch of his arm.

"i didn't say thank you."

gojo smiled, tilting his head in that distracting, no. what? in that irritating manner of his, "no need. i could feel the gratitude radiating off you," and he's crossing his arms against his broad chest in a way that made the tailored uniform seem unfairly snug, "warms my heart."

"what if you don't have a heart?

for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flashed in gojo's eyes, irritation easily — but something unrecognisable, but he must have smoothed it away with practised ease. for that same cocky grin returned like clockwork, infuriatingly charming and just as insincere.

"what if it only beats for you?" he shot back, wiggling his fingers dramatically, and the motion was so over-the-top that it leaned closer to sleazy than heartstopping.

"now i'm worried, you need to get shoko to check that out. sounds like a serious health issue."

"your tender concern for my well-being is what keeps my blood pumping," and you know that gojo has little regard for the personal space for others, the way that the distance between you is closing once more, in a way that makes your own pulse flicker.

"please," and you take a deliberate step back to reclaim your own space, "if i wanted you gone, i wouldn't waste my time hoping for a heart attack. i'd do it myself."

gojo shrugs, tilting his head like you had just told him a sweet joke, "you're cute when you're homicidal, y'know that?"

"and you're insufferable all the time. we all have our talents."

gojo's barked out a laugh, and the sound is annoyingly genuine. it has you grinding your teeth together, making your jaw tight.

"hey, gojo," you swivel back to the towering bean-pole behind you, leaning against a steel bar.

"mhm, what?"

"i'll give you a hundred thousand yen if you keep your mouth shut during the entire elevator ride," you mutter, staring at the ground floor map, and up to where your suite was meant to be, hands fiddling over the buttons.

"deal."

you glance back, "that easy? clan money running low, gojo?"

gojo sighs, shaking his (ridiculous) snow-cone hair, "you have no idea. spent it all on a sweet talkin' girl who kicked me to the curb. even took the dog with her. who takes the fucking dog?"

despite yourself and your iron-clad resolution to not validate gojo satoru in anything, you snort, the first genuine laugh he's pulled out of you.

you choose not to notice how his eyes suddenly seem a shade brighter, as you snicker, "you're so ridiculous."

he doesn't reply as you press an index finger into the cool metal of the elevator button, and you turn around to see him sadly miming out his broke plight, with a sack of imaginary things over his shoulder, jingling the few coins he has.

tsk. you bite your lip to stop the corners of your lips lifting up to match gojo's own, wrinkling your nose in faux distaste as you spin back around, with gritted teeth. away from the mild bane of your existence.

true to his word, and shockingly so, gojo stayed silent through the elevator ride. mostly.

you caught his restless sighs, the shuffle of his ridiculously polished boots, and the occasional sharp intake of breath like he was simply dying to say something, but kept biting it back.

good. for once, it was nice to make gojo satoru stew.

the elevator dinged, and you had already stepped out, planning to ditch him in the suite, but clearly, gojo had other ideas.

"alright, sweets," he said, hand extended, "i won the bet. hundred thousand yen, i can take a cheque too."

you stopped short, glaring at his outstretched (sculpted) hand.

"right now? just as we're gonna plan how to catch a criminal? can't we do a pay later type of thing?"

gojo's responding grin was wolfish, and his voice dropped enough to make you bristle, "sure. pay later, with a kiss."

your groan must have echoed down the hall, and without thinking, you shoved past him. your shoulder colliding with his chest in a way that was deeply satisfying.

"my kisses," you snapped, refusing to look back at him, "are worth way more than a hundred thousand yen."

gojo didn't reply immediately, no. and for a second, you thought had finally managed to shut him up enough for a moment's peace to gather the thoughts that the white-haired man always managed to unravel.

but when you dared to glance back over your shoulder, his sharp gaze was fixed on you, and his lips were pressed together oddly — the faintest dusting of cherry pink peeking out underneath his sunglasses, and falling over his cheeks.

nary a peep from gojo then, save for him rushing past you to slot the keycard into the door. but holy fuck, the sheer luxury of this suite almost made you forget that gojo satoru even existed.

sleek dark woods, glowing orange accents, and a massive window that offered a panoramic view of tokyo's skyline. and then, there was the bed.

ridiculous in its decadence. a king-sized masterpiece, draped in plush linens that looked softer than the clouds dotting the afternoon sky. framed by polished ebony bedposts that gleamed in the warm light of the suite. the mattress was practically calling out to you, to sink your back into it.

wait, where was the other bed?

"nope! absolutely not," you blurted, spinning on your heel to face gojo who had sauntered in after you, pausing mid-step and clearly, equally caught off-guard with a stunned expression on his face — before morphing into something maddeningly smug.

"what?" gojo said, leaning casually against the doorframe, "it's a bed. you've seen one before, right?"

you tried to speak in a way that wouldn't quite make it show that you felt like your tongue was lead, jabbing a finger at the bed as though it had personally offended you, "there's only one!"

gojo's lips quirked upwards, his blue eyes gleaming with that irritating mix of amusement and mischief, most likely derived from your displeasure, "now look at that, we can count to ten. baby steps."

"don't start with me," you snapped, "i'm not crashing out there. i'd rather sleep in the hallway."

gojo tilted his head, the white tufts of his hair falling around his face, as though he were considering the suggestion seriously, "not sure the hotel staff would appreciate you loitering in their five-star corridors. won't stop you though, sweets."

"you can sleep on the couch," you try to offer helpfully, relishing in how it's his turn to scowl at you.

gojo's glancing towards the sleek leather sofa in the corner, most likely worth more than your monthly rent, "tempting," he drawls, "but i don't think that thing was designed for someone with legs this long," and he's slapping his hands on his thighs, and you do your very best to not track your stare down.

"then curl up like the overgrown house cat you are -"

"fuck you mean by that?"

"or sleep on the floor!"

"i'm liking these options less and less."

but then gojo straightens, and you're starting to see a small tick reach to the corner of his bright eyes, the faintest hint of irritation seeping through his drawl, "you know, for someone so desperate to avoid me, you spend a lot of time wondering where i'm gonna sleep."

you hate the traitorous flush heating up your face, "i'm thinking about it because you're my problem."

"well i hope i'm at least your favourite problem," gojo murmurs, brushing past you to toss his dark bag onto the bed.

"so, what's it gonna be?" gojo's voice was a lazy purr, patting the mattress beside him with a grin that could have launched a thousand arguments, "join me, or keep fighting a losing battle? because -" he faked a yawn, "i think i'm starting to get a bit sleepy."

"sleepy? you're a grown man, and it's barely three in the afternoon."

gojo arches a pale brow, and you have to force yourself to stop staring at the pink curve of his lips, "and? scared you won't be able to resist me in the middle of the night?"

"you should be scared you'll wake up with a pillow smothering your face."

gojo sighs, melodramatic and loud, rolling over onto his back, "i'd rather be smothered by -"

"gojo!"

his laugh is low and rich, and it vibrates in the air in a way that make your teeth itch, and your eyes roll, desparate to change the subject and actually get back on track.

you shove the hefty file in his direction, letting him flounder to grab a hold of it, "last page. naoki sato."

gojo's entire demeanor shifts, and falls under the mention of the name, eyes a touch darker, and suddenly serious in a way that almost makes you regret being on the clock. but he's pushed himself up from the bed, his legs dangling off the edge.

"what about him?"

you frowned, still turning over the situation in your mind, "well, he's supposedly working out of this district right, i mean, even this hotel? but why? i always thought crime bosses had creepy lairs in dark alleyways or something. and not," you gesture to the five-star architecture around you, "this."

gojo's broad shoulders shrug in that lazy way of his, like everything was beneath him, but there was something else flickering behind his perched sunglasses, "i've never even met him. just heard of him," but gojo seems to be chewing each word, as if choosing them carefully, "but what i've heard? not your typical criminal? he flies high, lives the wild life out in the open, rich and shameless."

you privately held back any biting comment that came to you as easy as breathing, about gojo also being the epitome of rich...and shameless. time and place, yeah?

gojo, thank the lucky stars, had not noticed you fighting demons to keep a straight face, "but then every so often sato vanishes off the radar, and then, bam!" your partner splayed his fingers, "he strikes again. always showing in a different place. the united states, france, england, egypt..."

you raise an eyebrow, tapping at your phone, "egypt?"

"egyptian artefacts are ridiculously powerful, sweets. i mean, on a whole other level. they aren't linked with y'know...jujutsu," he gestures vaguely between the two of you, "but whatever they've got is ancient and ridiculously potent. last the higher ups heard, naoki sato managed to get his hands on an old obelisk."

you shake your head at the prospect, humouring gojo, "whatever for?"

"whatever twisted things he does in his free time, fuck if i know. but of course, he couldn't control it. instead, it summoned the spirit of a massive serpent, killed a bunch of innocent civilians."

you have the faintest collection of the mythos surrounding an ancient serpent, and the thought makes you shudder, "wouldn't the local authorities have arrested him for that?"

gojo pushes his sunglasses up his head, so you're now looking back at unblinking blue eyes ringed by white lashes, "how do you arrest a guy who's practically a ghost? they couldn't even find him after all that shit. besides, his technique is something else. enhance. practically has control over every cell in your body."

you nod slowly, hoping that you're piercing it all together correctly, "so this auction is because he's got more of these artefacts? like raijin's amulet?"

gojo nods sharply, and you're struck by the intensity of big blue eyes with whorls of storm clouds lingering between his gaze, "i guess even villainous criminals want to make profit. but we can get a front row seat to whatever he's planning next."

"and stop him before that."

"right. that's what i said."

your frown deepens, "how the fuck does an entire auction stay hidden from the public?"

after all, you had scoured the floorplan of this hotel from base to rooftop, and not a single room or corner would accomodate naoki sato, and the voiceless that follow him.

gojo shrugs with infuriating nonchalance, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of the bed, "there's jujutsu that can create entire illusions. beneath this very hotel lies an entrance to a hidden ballroom, but it's been in and out of use for decades. we jus' need to slip in, find sato, and maybe shake him a few times until he spills the amulet's location."

you cross your arms, and the unfortunate truth lingers on your tongue, "if it were that easy, the higher ups wouldn't have sent you with me as backup."

"was that a compliment for me? careful, you might actually start liking me now."

and at your affronted expression, laugher is spilling out gojo satoru, sharp and cocky and awfully infectious.

you hated the sound, not because it wasn't nice, but because it was. too rich, too easy. the kind of laugh, from the strongest sorcerer to walk the earth, that made you wonder if ever took a damn thing seriously. with the unfortunate side effect of questioning why it was so annoyingly attractive at the same time.

nobody should get to look that good while being such an unbearable ass. it was unfortunate, you thought grimly, how much you liked seeing him laugh though.

"i don't think i'd ever like you at all, gojo."

but alas, the world has a cruel way of making you wish that the earth swallowed you whole. and your heart and mind certainly aren't on speaking terms with each other to coordinate properly. for the barb flies out of your mouth like an uncontrolled reflex, a rogue arrow hitting its mark.

and you're left grimacing as gojo's smile stills. not vanishing completely, but frozen while something cooler and sharper slips into his gaze. the awkward silence that follows is loud enough to make you wince and pray that a lightning bolt strikes you down right now.

gojo gives a quiet cough, and you're wondering just how much of his nonchalant facade he has left intact. fuck, you were a bit of an ass yourself.

"ah, gojo. i didn't mean -" you started, stumbling over the words, desperate to backpedal, if only for the sake of the mission. right?

"don't strain yourself pretending," gojo cuts you off, and you're mildly stung by the smooth edge of venom coating his voice, despite his relaxed smile, "let's just get this job done, yeah? it's just us two here because no-one else could put up with you. i was the only one left who actually wanted to try."

well. ouch, that was a low blow. motherfucker.

your jaw tighten, and for a moment, all you can do is stare into vibrant blue eyes. surely, that wasn't true...right? and how awful that the sharp look in his eyes softened into a smug satisfaction as he registered how his own barb had found his mark.

now, gojo satoru is leaning back with an air of victory, crossing his arms as if to bask in it. talk about drawing more blood from a wound than necessary.

"you're awful, gojo," you bit out, praying that whatever tremor lives in your throat is not enough to appear in your voice.

"yes, i know. you say that all the time."

it was almost tragic, you thought bitterly, how in those fleeting few minutes, you had found gojo satoru bearable. likeable even. insightful, in his own smug way.

but now, the two of you were back to square one, staring each other down with walls firmly back in place.

sure, your quip had been mildly unnecessary, but it wasn't like he hadn't heard your blithe and bland comments by now?

but still, gojo's words gnawed at you. the idea that no one else wanted to put up with you, except him, of all people, burrowed deeper than it had any right to.

maybe it was petty, but you weren't about to let gojo satoru have the last word.

"remember that the higher ups want naoki sato executed," you said, breaking the terse silence.

gojo didn't even glance up from the file he'd been pretending to skim, his long fingers casually flipping a page. and that nonchalance made your stomach churn with irritation.

when he finally looked up, his expression was a mix of curiosity, and disdain, as if you had become a particularly stubborn puzzle that he'd decided was not worth solving, "yes, i know that too. so what?"

"you and i both know you've had trouble executing criminals in the past."

a calculated jab, sharper than they needed to be. and you saw the impact hit almost immediately. gojo's jaw tightened, and the glint in his frosty blue eyes disappeared, replaced by something darker, furious even.

suguru geto was still well and alive, often appearing on television as a friendly priest who would cure one of all their ails such as lower back pain or bad headaches, for the low price of joining the ranks of his organisation (read: cult). but he still remained a sore point for...everyone. you, included.

gojo, especially.

and now the air between you shifted, chilling like a winter draft had snuck into the room. your eyes fell on gojo's knuckles as they tightened around the file, his expression stony.

you shouldn't have felt proud of yourself for getting under his skin, for pulling a genuine reaction from him. but you did. you'd found a crack in his flawless armour, without needing to bypass infinity.

and it was satisfying.

"f-fuck you," gojo said finally, the razor edge in his voice was matched only by the glare he pinned on you.

you crossed your arms, doing your best to feign indifference despite the adrenaline surging through you. ignoring how you felt an awful pit in your stomach sprout, rendering you rather nauseous, and quoting his previous words, "don't strain yourself pretending it's not true."

gojo satoru's glower could have melted steel, and for a moment, you wondered if you'd gone too far. but he stood, slowly, his movements deliberate as he slammed the file shut with a resounding snap.

you watched as he snatched up his smaller bag, and swung the door open with enough force that you were surprised that it didn't fall off its hinges, "just be ready by the time i get back. 'm gonna take a walk."

and you were left, alone, in a room that suddenly felt so much more suffocating.

you weren't sure how long it had been since gojo had stormed out, leaving the room icy in his absence. you hadn't moved from your spot by the door, though you told yourself that you were entirely fine.

arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin, defiant line. but even as you stared at the dark panels of the door, the lie began to unravel.

you told yourself that you just didn't care for gojo satoru. that you didn't like how he was too loud, too reckless, too overwhelming, a force that just didn't fit into the neat confines of your world.

the heat rising to your cheeks must have betrayed you, as did the tight knot in your chest. it had been...not your wisest choice to lash out at him, or to even bring up his name. suguru geto, a wound that would never close for anyone.

but more than that, you hated the memory of his expression just before he left. hurt, and anger. and something far more raw.

he would come back, you knew that much. gojo was much too dutiful to leave a mission and abandon a chance to do some good in this world. it should have been a comfort, but it did little to ease you. instead, that certainty only twisted the guilt tighter in between your ribcage.

finally, you yanked the door open, fuelled by an impulse you didn't care to name. you wanted to catch him outside, mid-pace and brooding. just so you could say...something. anything.

but the hallway was empty, stark and silent, with only the dim flicker of warm light as your witness. you bit your tongue as your stomach churned sourly with disappointment.

and instead, you just slammed the door shut, letting the sound reveberate with just as much force that gojo had slammed the door with, on his way out. you leaned against the wood, closing your eyes as you did your level best to swallow that lump of regret making a home in your throat.

pacing helped for about...three minutes. shuffling through the case files on the table did nothing but remind you of why you were here, why you had both been sent. after all, was this mission not bigger than you, or him? was this not about bringing naoki sato to justice?

it didn't feel that way.

your gaze landed on the garment bag handing from the chair, untouched from when you had pulled it out earlier, back when gojo had been inviting you...to bed.

sort of.

you unzipped the bag with (mildly) trembling hands, letting the fabric spill into your grasp. no doubt that the dress was beautiful, a masterpiece of icy, powder blue and shimmering sequins that caught the light like scattered stars.

well, this had certainly been worth half your paycheck.

your fingers brushed over the delicate embroidery, and for a moment, you felt a mild sting of your own hypocrisy and yearning heart. you accused gojo of being cold, distant and unfeeling, and yet here you were, holding a dress that reminded you of him in every way. the pale blue of the fabric, like the frost in his storm-eyes when they rested on you for too long.

if you ever came face to face with cupid, you would beat him with a baseball bat.

you sighed, dropping the dress onto the bed before gingerly stepping out of your uniform, as cool air stung your skin.

what had you been thinking, treating gojo like that? he didn't deserve your anger, not truly. you knew how much your former classmate carried, how much he gave himself to this cursed and thankless world.

but of course, the little pronged-devil on your shoulder whispered around the shell of your ear. he often drew equal blood from stinging cuts, no-one wanted to put up with you, anyway.

still, there was no use in showing up to a gathering of some of the world's most rich, wealthy and seedy looking like a hollow and shaken ghost. and this mission was just not about gojo, it was about the greater good of the jujutsu world, and that's what you repeated in your head like a mantra, as you swiped plush-red across your cheeks and lips.

a diamond necklace around your throat was the final touch. well, you say diamond, but the truth was more...cheap. still, the strand shone in linked chains of pretty crystals. and that had still been a minor fortune for one who lived on a jujutsu paycheck.

the hours had stretched the afternoon into evening, settling a fragile calm over the suite that made you ache to stretch your limbs out, and take in some fresh air.

but the silence was shattered by a sharp knock at the door, purposeful and deliberate. and it made you freeze, hands still resting on the straps of your glitzy shoes, a frown knitting your brows.

gojo had the keycard, did he not? but who else would be banging your door down?

with a sigh, you stood and lifted the hem of your dress as you crossed the room. opening the door with every intention of scolding him for whatever drama he was dragging in this time.

instead the words just about died a sad and lonely death on your tongue.

gojo satoru.

for a brief second, your thoughts emptied entirely, as though he had cast infinite void right over you, leaving you staring with a heart that hammered like a caged bird.

gone was his usual, drab uniform. instead, he had swapped the dull fabric for a sleek, black dress shirt that clung just right, paired with a crisp, grey jacket that framed his broad shoulders.

you tried to not let your gaze linger on the open gap right under the white tie that hung slightly loosened from his neck, where silk kissed creamy skin.

but gojo’s face was unreadable, distant and cool. you hated how his mere presence always seemed to tilt the world off its axis.

and you blinked, forcing your mouth to close, and you stepped back to let him in. 

"you’re late. again," you snapped, but your voice lacked its usual venom, tempered by the sharp edges of minor guilt that refused to settle in you.

"whatever. ‘m here now, aren’t i?" gojo’s tone was casual, but his eyes lingered a second too long, leaving your skin prickling with self-conscious awareness. 

it seemed that the universe needed to hit you with some karmic intervention, and you decided to take the rare moral high ground, "about earlier," you began, trying to steady yourself, "i shouldn’t have said -"

"forget it, sweets," gojo interrupted with a shrug, though his jaw was tight, "i’m not keen on hearing excuses. i get it."

you bristled, biting back the immense urge to shove him, an urge that becoming disturbingly frequent, "i wasn’t making excuses," sounding out each word slow and deliberate. anger simmering under the surface at his holier-than-thou attitude, "that was an apology."

that made gojo pause, and now he fully turned to you, expression shifting. though it was hard to read, caught between painful acknowledgement and absurd pride that would include him admitting that he was affected by what you said.

for a moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched unbearably heavy. but then gojo’s ice-gaze dropped to the necklace scattered over your throat, and he tilted his head, "not too bad," a flicker of a scoff curling at his lips.

"tch, they’re not even real," you blurted, then immediately regretted it, what was wrong with you today? you reached up, fingers grazing the cool crystals as if to shield them from his bemused scrutiny, "just thought i needed something to fit in."

gojo slid a pair of tinted sunglasses from his pocket, sliding them up his nose, smooth and practised, "in a room full of the filthy rich and tastelessly overdressed?" his pink mouth twitched, "you’ll fit in perfectly."

gojo was right. this was just…tacky.

the ground floor of the building had been nothing but a sleek, cold lifeless maze of marble, and now he had led you down into what could only be described as a scene for criminals with bad taste. an abandoned parking lot stretched out in front of you, a grimy stretch of concrete that left you expecting a quiet dead end.

until gojo waved his hand, and the illusion clearly met for non-sorcerer eyes shattered.

before you, a set of massive double doors emerged, seemingly from nowhere, and the lifting of the veil had left you disoriented, nauseous. but when the doors swung open, you almost felt like you were stepping into a warped fever dream.

this room inside was the most bizarre mixture of garish opulence that you had ever seen. gold…everything. the walls plastered in a deep red, like someone had dipped the entire place in velvet swathes and then covered it with more gold leaf.

plush, overstuffed settees sat like soft, jewel-toned thrones in every corner, and glass boxes lined the walls, each holding what looked like nothing more than expensive junk, tacky figurines and diamond-encrusted trinkets.

it was the kind of place you’d absolutely expect a mob boss to call home after a particularly long, indulgent afternoon making questionable life choices.

the hall reeked of wealth, the kind that demanded to be seen. opulence dripped from every corner — gilded fixtures, crystalline chandeliers, and glass displays showcasing treasures that screamed money but whispered nothing of taste. you twitched as you passed a goblet encrusted with enough jewels to buy a small city-state. the thought of how much it probably cost made your stomach twist.

"focus," gojo muttered at your side, his tone clipped. he squinted slightly, his sunglasses doing little to shield his six eyes from the garish light that spilled over the room like liquid gold., and you could tell it was a bit...much for his senses, making him blink rapidly. "we’ll sweep the displays, see if the amulet’s here."

you tilted your head, gesturing toward his snowy mop of hair, the unruly strands falling messily over his face and grazing the edge of his glasses. "and you’re sure they won’t recognise you, in this whole...circus?"

gojo's responding glance was sharp, flat, and utterly devoid of humour.

"most of these people wouldn’t recognise a threat if it was biting them in the ass," he said, voice low and laced with disdain. "they’re not sorcerers. just your garden-variety rich and bored — criminals, trust fund brats, maybe a politician trying to look cultured. the kind of people who buy antiques because they match their curtains and makes them look good for their friends."

the corner of your mouth betrayed you, twitching upward at his cutting dismissal of the glittering nonsense around you. he had hit the nail on the head, making contempt seem like an art form.

and worse, you hated how there was something almost…sexy about it.

the thought hit you like a slap, and you forced it down immediately. gojo and sexy didn’t belong in the same sentence. not in the same universe. fuck, not even as a passing joke.

"charmed as i am by your high opinion of humanity," you said dryly, trying to ground yourself in sarcasm, "maybe don’t make it obvious you hate everyone here. we're not here to arrest every person in this room."

gojo snorted softly, his lips curving into what might have been a smirk — or at least the ghost of one. "you think so little of me. i don’t hate everyone." his eyes flicked toward you, just for a second, before returning to the vast hall ahead.

it wasn’t much. barely a glance of electric blue. but it was enough to send your pulse into a sprint, and fuck him, he had to know it. you turned your attention to the nearest display, praying he didn’t notice the warmth blooming in your cheeks.

traitorous.

"let’s just find the amulet, and sato. and get out of here," you said briskly, your voice a shade too sharp.

"mhm," gojo's voice was infuriatingly calm, but when you looked up, his gaze wasn’t on the displays. it was on you.

"you look lost."

a voice, smooth and low, slid over you like silk, stopping you cold in your tracks. it hadn't come from gojo by your side, thank the heavens above, but it didn't make your heart any steadier. you turned towards the source, and your stomach did a three-point flip.

well. hello, gorgeous.

the type of good-looking that just felt unfair. the type that made you forget your name for half a second, and then hate yourself for it. the strnger stood out against the room of puffed-up men in overpriced suits, glittering with real diamonds of their cuff-links, and rolled cigars in their hands.

your eyes fell on dark auburn strands that fell in perfectly tousled strands over his forehead, and a tailored black suit that hugged a slender waist.

"i hope you didn't wander into the wrong hall," the stranger said, curling his lips into a faint smile, fraught with suspicion as it was.

you forced yourself not to stare — at an absurdly sharp jawline, at big brown eyes. but words were a different matter entirely. you struggled to conjure them, grasping for anything remotely coherent.

you settled on an appropriate response.

"um. no, we didn’t."

not your finest moment. not even close.

before you could mentally regroup with a few brain cells, a sharp jolt yanked you back to reality. you sucked in a sharp breath as gojo's long fingers pinched the underside of your arm, a deliberate sting that left you glaring at him.

he didn’t even bother to meet your eyes.

his entire focus was fixed on the stranger, his posture taut with unspoken tension, gojo's jaw clenched so tight you thought he might crack a perfect tooth.

the air shifted subtly, a faint hum of energy emanating from gojo. you knew that hum. it meant trouble. gojo, ever the master of simmering hostility, was gearing up for something, and he was looking weirdly agitated.

and you found it tasteless to jump the first person you had run into here.

"i usually know most of the guests at my events," the stranger continued, his voice calm, unbothered — but there was an edge to it, like he already knew the answer to the question he hadn’t asked.

oh.

you felt your stomach plummet as recognition dawned.

naoki sato.

no wonder gojo looked ready to snap someone in half. naoki wasn’t just anyone — he was the head of the voiceless. the host of this auction. the man whose fortune was built on enough shady dealings to fill a large library. the one who had more blood on his hands than those who had been dealt life sentences.

one of the most wanted jujutsu criminals in the world.

"you've — " gojo started, his voice sharp, but you cut him off with a forced, almost too-bright smile.

"you've thrown quite the party," you said, your words tripping over themselves as you elbowed gojo subtly, hoping to god he’d take the hint. "i’m actually quite new to the area. just exploring, hoping to find something good tonight."

gojo let out a low grunt, a sound that promised retribution later. you ignored him and plastered on a wider smile, one you hoped would distract from your partner's upcoming reversal: red.

"and, ah. this is my bodyguard...genji," you added, giving gojo's arm a firm retributive pinch through the fabric of his jacket.

the look he shot you could've melted steel, but you held your ground, determined not to let him ruin this.

if for once, he could take your plan into account, a great deal of bloodshed could be avoided.

naoki's faint cherry smile widened, bemused, "your…bodyguard?" he echoed, gaze flickering to gojo satoru.

gojo who stood like a coiled spring, gojo who certainly was no method actor. his icy glare practically speaking volumes of 'i will burn this room down.'

"well," naoki drawled, his tone almost playful now, and you flushed, "i hope you find what you’re looking for here."

behind him, his entourage, a cadre of hulking men stuffed into suits barely containing their bulk, followed with synchronised precision. they looked more like walking fortresses than bodyguards, with their cold and suspicious eyes cutting through the room as they passed.

one of them shot you an odd look, and you forced yourself to feign interest in a nearby display of sapphire-encrusted forks.

the moment the criminal was out of earshot, gojo leaned down, "genji? really?"

you shrugged, ignoring how you felt your nerves fray. and refusing to meet him half-way, "what? okay, i panicked. it was the first name i thought of."

"yeah, that was so convincing," gojo muttered darkly beside you, and you caught some bitten off words about how he was never going on a mission with you again, how yaga should never have roped him into this.

all things you blithely ignored.

you didn’t need to look at him to know he was furious. it rolled off him in waves, the tension in his posture, the barely audible hum of cursed energy still crackling under the surface.

"we don't even know where the amulet is. and imagine if we show up in front of yaga without it. you can do whatever you like with him after we get our hands on the cursed object," you whispered back, pretending to study the ridiculous cutlery with exaggerated focus.

gojo lowered his head, as though he suddenly saw the worth in gemstones embedded in cutlery, but just enough so he could glower at you. "you're flirting," he hissed, "i could have blasted through half this room, and just finished the job by now."

you coughed and hackled, "not all of us think effective battles are fought with a hollow purple."

"and not all of us,” gojo bit back, "feel the need to blush like schoolgirls the second someone bats an eyelash at us."

heat shot through you, part anger, part something you didn’t want to name. "blush?” you snapped. "i wasn’t blushing."

"you just wanted to jump his bones. thought we weren't here to get it wet."

"i'm not entertaining this conversation," but your voice was mildly higher pitched, drawing attention, "is that why you were there? standing like an idiot, or a jealous ex-boyfriend?"

gojo's sneer faltered, just for a split second, but it was enough to make your heart lurch with a strange, vindictive triumph.

"i wasn’t jealous," he said, "i was doing my job. y'know, being a jujutsu sorcerer. bringing a criminal to justice."

you opened your mouth, ready to retort, but no words came. because he wasn’t entirely wrong, and that infuriated you more than anything.

so instead, you lifted your hand, placing it firmly on his shoulder, onto the crisp and fine fabric of his jacket. you didn't miss the way he stiffened, briefly disarmed.

"look, i've got this. just stay close."

gojo's jaw tightened, and you could feel the unspoken protest simmering there. before he could get a word in, you turned away and called out.

"hey! naoki!"

the red-haired man stopped mid-stride, turning his head back toward you with a quizzical look. the confident words you’d planned evaporated the moment his sharp, brown eyes pinned you in place.

"i mean, naoki sato. mr. sato," you fumbled, mentally kicking yourself.

brilliant start. truly one of jujutsu tech's finest.

naoki raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from confusion to faint amusement. his gaze flicked to gojo, who had crossed his arms like a fortress of disdain and immense ill-will.

"found something you like?" naoki asked smoothly.

you ignored the huff that escaped the white-haired man next to you, and forced a smile, "actually, i was hoping you could help me choose something out. i'm not an expert here, and there's just so much to see."

naoki's bodyguards shifted, their expressions darkening as if you’d committed some unspoken faux pas. but the crime boss merely tilted his head, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

"ah, well," he said, drawing the word out lazily, "i don’t usually get this forward with my clients, but i suppose i'll make an exception."

his eyes slid once again to gojo, who was now glowering at a waiter hovering too close to his personal space, on the edges of infinity. "your bodyguard," naoki added helpfully, "can walk behind you. perhaps he'd like a drink to keep him occupied."

gojo's snarl could have peeled garish paint off the walls, "i don't want it."

you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the stubborn ass.

instead, you pasted on a smile, tight and sweet, and shot gojo a look that could cut glass, "our host is offering you something. you want that drink, genji."

"i don’t want cream soda," gojo muttered, all mulish in his six foot three glory.

gritting your teeth, you flashed naoki a helpless look, like what can you do? bodyguards, am i right?

and you reached for the waiter's tray, grabbing a tall glass of the offending soda and thrusting it into gojo's warm hand. then you leaned in, your voice a whisper, "take it. smile and act normal. ten minutes, that’s all i need."

for a moment, his blue eyes locked on yours, a storm of irritation twirling in them. you were now close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, close enough to notice the faintest hitch in his breath.

but gojo, for once, didn’t argue. with a final glare, he downed half the glass in one long, defiant gulp, his adam’s apple bobbing as he drank.

naoki laughed, watching the scene unfold with thinly veiled amusement, "you're very kind to the help. shall we?"

you shot gojo satoru one last look — a mix of triumph and warning —before stepping forward.

but your partner, predictably, looked like he'd rather swallow glass than stand a moment longer here. still, bodyguard is as bodyguard does, and he trailed after you like a reluctant shadow.

"i must admit," naoki began, his brown eyes catching the glittering lights as they swept over you, "it's rare to see someone so beautiful at these things. i think i would have remembered seeing you before, too. i'm usually stuck with old men trying to swindle me out of my fortune."

a flush climbed up your neck, unwelcome and irritating at what must have been calculated words, enough to flatter and also to disarm.

behind you, gojo audibly scoffed, clearly abandoning all manner of proper etiquette. you glanced over your shoulder to see him gripping the stem of a champagne flute, his knuckles white. the empty glass of cream soda had been abandoned in favour of something stronger.

he caught your eye and rolled his, making a slicing gesture at his neck followed by a pointed hurry up motion.

"ignore him," you murmured to naoki, pushing forward.

naoki’s eyes gleamed with amusement, easily unbothered as he gestured for you to continue walking. "does your bodyguard always look like he’s seconds away from murder, or is this special treatment for me?"

you didn’t dare look back at gojo, “he’s just protective," you said carefully.

naoki chuckled, "protective, sure. but of his job...or you?"

the words struck a nerve you refused to acknowledge, so you pressed the conversation forward. ignoring the jitter that erupted in your stomach.

"can i ask...," you said, tilting your head just enough to feign casual curiosity, "are these all cursed objects? or just pretty trinkets?"

naoki's amusement didn’t falter, but his gaze sharpened, assessing you like you were a puzzle he was only now beginning to piece together.

"why?” he asked smoothly, "are you interested in jujutsu? i thought you were here to...browse."

fuck, caught, but not completely.

you played it off with a small shrug. "some members of my family dabble in jujutsu," you said, letting a sliver of truth escape, but letting the rest of your words drip with lies, "i can only see curses, i'm not a sorcerer. but most of my family still hates me for how i was born."

behind you, gojo shifted, his movements a touch sharper than before. he hadn’t known that, hadn't known the small truth that you had snuck into your words.

but naoki's expression softened, his smile more thoughtful now. "that’s rare. and often not appreciated, i imagine.”

you hesitated, cautiously, but nodded. "not by them, no."

"i understand. my parents hated jujutsu. thought it was unnatural, and against the way of the world. my grandfather...he was the only one who didn't," and there's a quiet sincerity threading naoki sato's words, "he raised me when my parents refused to. at least, until he passed."

something in his story tugged at you — a familiarity you hadn’t expected. your family’s disdain for your own jujutsu, their rejection, mirrored in his words. it was unsettling, but oddly not unwelcome.

"i’m sorry about your grandfather," you said softly.

"and i, about your family,” naoki replied, a calm mask settling over his features once more, reminding you so painfully of the sorcerer who trailed behind you, "no-one should be made to feel lesser, sorcerer or not."

you caught your lip between your teeth, hoping the red stain didn't catch onto your teeth, "i thought most sorcerers hated humans."

naoki shrugged, "we aren't all that different. all flesh and blood with temporary lives."

oddly wise words from a mass murderer, thief and criminal.

you glanced over at gojo again, and just as you predicted, his scowl deepened and the glass looked like it was about a shatter in his hands. if looks could kill, naoki sato would be the first to go, no questions asked, followed by you.

naoki snickered, "your shadow grows restless."

"ignore him, please," you muttered, stepping closer to a glass case to distract yourself, "what’s this?"

naoki followed, stepping closer so you could catch the scent of expensive almond and saffron, "ah," he said, gesturing at the artefact inside, "a blade, from ming dynasty china. the jade serpent on the hilt grants its wearer the ability to control minds. some say it can even raise the dead."

the claim sent a shiver down your spine, but you masked it with feigned interest, nodding as naoki moved on.

"and here," he continued, pointing to a golden ring, with an oddly boyish grin for someone dealing in murderous items, "the lion's eyes. said to see through any veil, any curse. the last treasure of the dynasty of the pharoahs."

you tried to listen, but gojo's presence loomed larger with every word. his disdain for naoki sato, his barely concealed anger at the stolen objects— it was all too palpable. when you glanced back, his scowl had deepened, and the champagne glass in his hand looked on the verge of shattering.

if looks could kill, naoki sato would already be six feet under. you would be next on the list.

you swallowed hard, turning back to naoki sato and pointing at the next display. "and this?"

naoki pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks, "the broken english crown. apparently worn by the last king to die on the battlefield, and i haven't tried it on," he shares this with you, with a conspiratorial smile, "but legends say it fractures the bones of anyone deemed not powerful enough to wear it."

this criminal was not what you had expected at all. it was hard to reconcile the image of a hardened criminal with years of ruthless ambition, with this effortless charm and disarming way of making you lose the blurred line of correct propriety. you tried not to stare at how the warm light caught his auburn hair, like the autumn leaves in the dappled sun.

and yet, it wasn’t just his looks that threw you off. it was the way he carried himself — like he had nothing to prove and everything to hide. dangerous in a different way, one that was far harder to guard against.

it reminded you of gojo satoru.

"you know, i have to admit," naoki said, gesturing to the gilded displays around him, "most of this stuff? tacky as hell. but then, you would be surprised what most people would pay for tacky."

from a swindler, fraud and scammer? you were quite sure.

"funny, coming from someone whose livelihood depends on it. isn't that gaudy by association?"

naoki winked, and you averted your gaze from long brown lashes fluttering against soft skin, "touché. but people don't want to just buy the artefact, or the cursed object. they want the story. that shit's priceless."

you swallowed, focusing on how gojo was trying to draw your attention to a glass case hidden by all the others, and you hoped you weren't squinting, "so, you're just a storyteller then?"

but beside you, naoki sato tilted his head, "you could say that."

you thought of the clipped photos printed into the file. some in black and white, and some in raging shades of colour. where naoki sato's hands had painted entire buildings in shades of sticky red, and heads rolled on the floor. where his enhance technique could burst arteries and lungs, leaving people in pieces on the floor.

"sounds dramatic," you said, though your voice came out quieter than you intended.

"life's dramatic, and too short to not take what i want," naoki replied with a faint smile, his hand lightly brushing your waist as he guided you further past long tables.

you leaned into it without thinking, a tiny movement that made a creamy, berry flush paint over naoki's features. and the sorcerer's laugh was warm, low, like he’d already won something you didn’t realise was at stake.

behind you, a sharp cough broke the moment.

gojo.

you let your lips curl into a faint smile and leaned into naoki's just a fraction more, with a very deliberate look, one that spoke of triumph and having tamed a beast.

gojo's scowl deepened, his shoulders taut with barely restrained frustration, and he started mouthing at you, silent as his lips parted. if you read his mouth carefully, well...

he was calling you rather unflattering names.

"what's that?" but it was gojo's voice that roughly cut through the air, like gravel grinding underfoot. his shaded eyes were fixed on the glass case tucked in the corner.

you followed his gaze, past his outstretched arm, and your stomach twisted.

raijin's amulet.

the cursed object you’d been hunting, the one you’d sworn to protect at all costs, gleamed innocently behind its protective glass. you could recognise the serpentine dragon coiled protectively around the stone at its centre, its intricate carving daring anyone to claim it.

your frantic eyes met gojo's. his were sharp, seething. then, both your gazes flicked to naoki.

naoki, of course, noticed nothing — or pretended not to. he let out a soft hum, following gojo's pointed stare.

"the bodyguard's interested too?"

you coughed, cutting through the rising tension before gojo could turn that look into something explosive. the glass case between them might as well have been kindling for the fire brewing.

"it's mainly for academics," you said, feigning an air of curiosity. then, with practiced innocence, you tilted your head and smiled at the dangerous special grade cursed object as if it were nothing more than an ordinary trinket.

"but it’s so pretty. what is it, really?"

naoki's hand tightened subtly on your waist, and you tried to ignore the guilt that bubbled up in your chest when his sharp features softened at your feigned interest.

"it’s just an old thing," he said, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret meant only for you, "did you know it once belonged to ryomen sukuna?"

your mouth was dry, but you kept your face blank, tilting your head as though you’d never heard the name before, "sukuna?"

naoki pressed his palm to the glass case, his expression shifting into something darker, more reverent.

"the king of curses," he murmured. "lived over a thousand years ago. ruthless. when he died, most of his treasures were plundered by clans too greedy for their own good. but this..." he tapped the glass softly. "this one? it wasn't easy to get my hands on."

you leaned closer, feigning fascination while calculating your next move, trying to figure out how you could get close enough to that glass case without shattering the illusion cast on naoki sato, "what does it do?"

for a moment, naoki's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in their depths. but just as quickly, his expression smoothed out, and he chuckled.

"trust me, beautiful," he said, his voice like silk with an edge of warning. "you don’t want to wear that thing. i could get you something far more...safe."

you forced a smile, ignoring the chill that ran down your spine. instead, you threw a quick, desperate glance at gojo — a silent plea for the strongest to listen to you: i'll distract him. you get the amulet.

gojo's expression tightened, but his head snapped once, briefly, in the faintest hint of acknowledgement.

time to move.

you let out a soft, breathy laugh and tugged naoki toward a table, your hand brushing his arm with casual ease. "let’s sit," you suggested, leaning into his toned chest just enough to sell the act. "all this walking is making me tired."

naoki's laughter was warm, a touch too easy, and he let you guide him without resistance, "tsk, whatever you want," he murmured.

now you're trusting gojo satoru, simply because you had no other choice. he had to get the amulet out of the glass before alarms began to blare, and before needless blood was spilt over the glimmering floor.

and so you sat, letting naoki have his back to gojo, oblivious to the white-haired shadow slipping closer to the case. your eyes lingered on gojo, pulse racing each time he disappeared behind one of naoki's own burly guards.

but then naoki sato's gaze locked onto you, drawing your attention back with a searing warmth that caught you off guard.

"so," he asked, eyes glinting, "what do you think of all...this?"

"it's impressive," and you're surprised at how the truth has found a home in your mouth, "i didn't ever think of different sorcerers, around the world."

naoki leaned closer, with his elbows on his thighs, propping his face upon his hands, "most people don't. here, it's all about jujutsu. tokyo, this. kyoto, that. the higher ups are so narrow-minded. stuck in their ways, obsessed with tradition. they don't know anything about the world out there."

for a moment, his words startled you. they weren’t the boastful musings of a crime boss but something else. they reminded you of how gojo spoke about the rigidity of the old ways, about why he fought so hard to change things, to create a better world for jujutsu sorcerers.

ah, focus.

"hey," naoki suddenly said, pulling you out of your thoughts. his gaze was sharper now, more intense. and over his shouder, you caught the faintest blur of white hair in the background, gojo's movements.

but it was hard to focus on anything but naoki sato's face — the sharp lines softened by his proximity, the warmth in his dark eyes that you didn’t want to admit was almost magnetic.

he was a man marked for execution, and the warrant must have been burning a hole through your suite on the highest floor.

yet here he was, looking at you like you were something worth risking everything for.

and suddenly, you weren’t sure you wanted to see autumn's locks matted with rusted blood. to see eyes go dull and lifeless.

you felt like you had the moral spine of a sponge.

"can i kiss you?"

the question hit like a punch to the gut. your lips parted, but no sound came out. and suddenly, the steps in the background stopped too.

naoki's hand came up to your jaw, his touch unexpectedly reverent, and all you could think was: distraction. right. distract him for gojo. what the fuck is taking him so long?

so you closed the distance.

naoki's lips captured yours with a softness that disarmed you, but the kiss was anything but tentative, and you could taste a sweet tang like lemons and sugar. but you let his large hands pull you closer and his touch was warm and intoxicating.

the kind that made you forget, just for a moment, that this was all a ruse.

his lips moved against yours with a heat that made everything else fade to black, and his hands slid down your waist and back, tracing lines that felt dangerously real.

when you finally pulled away for air, your lips tingled, and your breath came in short bursts. you couldn’t help yourself — you reached up, your fingers brushing against his now-flushed lips, glossy under your touch, and you hated the way your stomach twisted from the way naoki sato melted under your touch.

focus, again.

you hoped, prayed, that gojo was doing his part, taking advantage of the way you had naoki sato, one of the most dangerous men in the entire world, wrapped around your finger, and bruising his tongue into your mouth.

but your gaze flicked upwards, past his shoulder and collided with something that stopped your heart cold.

electric blue. devastatingly vibrant, crackling with a fury that hit the air like a thunderstorm.

gojo's eyes pinned you in place, shadows pooling in sharp cerulean, from shades that had slipped just a touch down his nose. no mask to shield whatever expression gojo had clearly painted across his face.

hurt? anger? what the fuck, was that betrayal?

your throat tightened, and you resisted the urge to dig your nails into naoki's tailored jacket, to hiss at gojo to get a move on. to stop standing there like he had been hit with a shovel.

but the words didn't quite form, didn't pull at the corners of your mouth to silently shape them. his expression just held you captive, no. shamed you.

and that made you angrier. he had no right to look at you like that, like you had just crossed a line that you didn't even know was there.

but under you, naoki shifted, tilted your chip up to meet his lips again, and you let him. you...wanted him to. but the heat of his lips didn't drown out the chill of gojo's stare. your own body betrayed you with a shiver, one that you couldn't quite place yourself.

nerves, or desire.

the kiss was firmer this time, insistent, as if naoki sato was staking his claim in front of an invisible audience. his hand cupped the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw with maddening ease, over the pulse of your neck.

and for a second, it was too easy to fall into the lie. but you felt it: the searing weight of gojo's glower burning into you, not far away.

naoki pulled back just slightly, his breath fanning your lips, "hey, you're distracted," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his eyes scanning your face as though he wanted to read every thought. "should i be offended?"

"no," you said quickly, almost too quickly, "just a lot to take in."

naoki smiles, all coy and glazed lips, clearly pleased by what he thought was pure flattery, and not the glowering six-eyes shining behind him. "good. i think 'm gonna like leaving you speechless."

part of you knows that you just aren't seeing those pearly gates of heaven.

you know there's going to be a bouncer at the doors, with your face printed on a photo titled: dni! fraud! liar! the world's most incompetent jujutsu sorcerer! would bounce into a criminal's bed at first chance!

naoki's warm thumb lingers against your jaw, and your breath hitches just enough for the sorcerer to notice. you don't miss how his eyes darken, a hint of triumph gleaming in them.

you risked a glance past his shoulder again, and gojo was still there, stony-faced as naoki's own guards. but there's something else broiling in his eyes, rolling over his face like a thunderstorm cracks over a grassy plain. the fury in his eyes hadn't lessened, but now it was laced with something sharper, something that you can finally read.

jealousy. absolute glass-shattering, world-stopping levels of envy paint over gojo satoru's face.

the realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.

was he jealous of naoki sato? of you? of this entire charade that you both had agreed to? or rather, the one you had roped him into.

the idea shouldn’t have thrilled you, but it did. and it terrified you just as much.

you let naoki kiss you again, forcing yourself to deepen it this time, your hands coming up to rest against his hard chest. you don't miss how he suddenly parts from your lips, panting softly into your mouth, and suddenly you're hit with the most awful wave of longing for a man who cannot have.

naoki’s large hands, however, weren’t idle. one brushed the edge of your dress, under the shoulder strap of your powder-blue gown, his thumb grazing against the fabric, and your breath hitched.

you shift, your breath stuttering as naoki's other hand slides higher, his fingers brushing against the flesh of your thigh, pushing your dress higher, and his hand brushes against the silver details on the side, scratching your skin. it's maddening how cool air meets the heat of your now exposed skin, and naoki's mouth crushes against yours, as if he's equally savouring the taste of you.

"t-there are people here," you gasp, your voice a fractured whisper, trembling at the edge of composure, "what if they can see or watch?"

gojo satoru is here. gojo is watching. you know your partner is close enough to hear every breathless sound you make, every treasonous whine that slips past your lips.

but naoki sato's mouth is curved into a plush, wicked smile, "let them look," and his teeth are grazing against the curve enough in a way that makes you arch your back into him, he who is now leaning over you, as if he's the one trying to capture you, "who cares - hah?"

any reasonable thought of your duty. of honour, of a mission flees from your head.

the sight of gojo's softly parted mouth and darkened eyes as he watches you in another man's arms spurs you on, and you let naoki sato press his lips against the hollow of his throat.

naoki's long fingers are blazing as they reach the very apex of your thighs. as they press two rough pads into the sopping slick that's gathered in your panties, as they run themselves along dampened fabric in a way that has you openly keening.

"can i?" and your eyes meet the mahogany gaze of the man above you. it's electrifying. you should be ashamed, furious at how you're just being taken like this, on display. but this is a room of the seven deadly sins, where each corner of the room is a lesson in hedonism, and obscene wealth.

"please."

but your eyes are only on gojo satoru behind him. on how he catches the pale-pink of his bottom lip between his teeth, and his face is seething. how his darkened eyes drop to naoki's hand working its way between your legs, and you wantonly roll your hips up to meet him there.

you let writhing fingers slip under the waistband of your pale-blue underwear, dipping into glossy, thick arousal. but you also don't miss the tent in gojo satoru's grey slacks, only metres away, and the frenzied look making him look pained.

you would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy moaning openly, spreading your legs just a bit wider, so gojo could get a glimpse of your drooling cunt.

"fuck, 's good. so good, naoki."

a finger travels up, away from your winking entrance to press a soft flick against your throbbing clit, "yeah?"

and the beautiful man in between your legs all but purrs. pleased beyond measure at how you've apparently been captured, heart and soul by him. and your attention snaps back to how he suddenly draws his fingers off your soaked cunt, and brings them up to his mouth.

"sweetest thing i've ever tasted, i think 'm gonna have -"

and then, it hit you.

a hot, sticky spray of liquid.

the scent of iron slammed into your senses as fresh blood splattered across your face, your chest, and stained the delicate blue of your dress into a deep and damning red. it clung to your skin, to your lips as you pressed your mouth shut, fighting the bile rising in your throat.

reversal: red crackled in the air, cursed energy humming sharp, and it had sliced through the hall like a whip. naoki's arm had been torn from your waist, wrenched away as he staggered back with a guttural hiss, and you avert your eyes from the blood that paints the space between you.

"that's enough."

gojo satoru's voice is like a thunderclap, reverberating around your ears, and when you finally meet his gaze, you're met with unbridled fury. you're not sure where his shades have gone, but you're met with the full weight of six-eyes, blazing and unrelenting.

naoki stumbles ahead of you, clutching his shoulder where blood seeps through his fingers, torn between shock and raw rage. his cherry-lips are curled back into a snarl, flush with indignation.

"hah, you're a sorcerer?," and naoki sato's voice drips with venom, heavy with disbelief.

you're not quite sure gojo satoru needs to answer. not when his presence alone sends waves of cold through the hall, cutting the air precisely, cleaving it.

but there's a man running towards the commotion, a guard encumbered by a hefty black suit, and there's a cold shock that runs through you as your eyes fall on the gun at his side.

"we think that's gojo satoru," the guard wheezes, breathless.

"you're telling me this now? i gave you fuckwits one job," naoki snarls, shaking the man, with his nails dug into the guard's shoulder.

and you're quickly pushing your dress down, letting the fabric spill over your legs once more, fighting back the hot sparks that sting at your eyes.

it's enough to snap naoki's attention back to you. and for a moment, for the briefest of moment, he wasn't the hardened criminal you had been playing this dangerous game with. a boy your age, wild and beautiful, and utterly undone.

and it heaves your stomach at how the fury in his gaze trembles slightly, just enough to reveal betrayal underneath that strikes you harder than any limitless could.and it struck you harder than any whip of magic ever could.

"i must be stupid, fuck," naoki's voice cracks as he spits the words, his expression twisted with something raw, something painfully human, "you’re a jujutsu sorcerer too, aren't you?"

the accusation was a dagger, his voice trembling with disbelief but its wholly true, and your head wavers in a half-shake, half-nod.

"you’re with him, aren't you? just another one of the higher up's lapdogs?"

the words weren’t a question — they were a condemnation.

naoki's lips are curled, and his bloodied arm is now trembling but steady, defiance burning through the pain.

and a whisper in your mind tells you to smash the glass case holding the amulet, to push through it with your bare hands, just so you can bleed alongside him.

but naoki sato's bitter scoff shatters that thought, and his gaze must have followed yours, sharp and knowing, for his hand has moved faster, pulling the gun from the guard's holster.

the blast came before you could even think, loud and jarring.

but you never saw the bullet's path, only gojo.

gojo, whose arm has snapped in front of you like a barrier, impossibly fast, and well within the bounds of his infinity. as if he had tore through space itself.

the bullet collides with infinity, ricocheting into the chaos of the panicking crowd.

naoki’s gaze didn’t waver. it slices back to gojo, sharp, calculating, and darkly amused. he must have seen it now, everything.

the truth was etched in the way gojo had positioned himself, the way his blazing blue eyes never left you, the unspoken claim humming in the air like a second heartbeat.

naoki sato's laugh is lower, bitter, and you watch the mesmerising plink! of crimson on the floor.

"he's protecting you, isn’t he?" his voice dripped with venom, each word striking like a dagger, "how sweet.”

and just like that, something broke. gojo's restraint, most likely.

you can see how his fingers are flexing, his hands lifting and cursed energy is coiling at his fingertips. his thumb and index finger brush, a telltale sign of an impending blast. hollow purple.

you clench your eyes shut, bracing for the devastation of the impact —

but naoki sato was faster.

his arms snapped outward, a surge of his own jujutsu ripping through the space between you. the bodyguards around you crumpled like ragdolls, their bodies bursting under the pressure. blood sprayed in thick, sticky waves, painting the walls, the floor — against the edges of infinity.

you opened your eyes in time to see gojo falter, his hands trembling as he stared at the carnage. even he, the unflinching sorcerer, the strongest, looked shaken by the sheer brutality of what cursed technique: enhance was capable of.

and in the heartbeat of his hesitation, naoki was gone.

"fuck's sake! s-satoru! let go of me!" you snap, voice cracking with fury as you fight against gojo's tight grasp.

his vivid focus shoots back to you, his expression a storm of anger and disbelief, "what?" and gojo's voice is razer-sharp, "if you think i'm letting you go after that stunt you pulled -"

"shut up!" and you can feel your own desperation cut through the air, "you go after him, i'll go after the amulet."

you toss your head to the shattered glass and the chaos erupting all around you, "if that thing gets lost in the mess, we've done this all for nothing!"

gojo's jaw is clenched, his mouth pressed into a hard and furious line. for a moment, you think he's going to argue with you again, but then you're dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

pain shoots through your knees as you land, but you're soon hauling yourself up.

"go!" you hiss, shoving at his shoulder, "i'll come find you when i have it."

gojo hesitates for a fraction of a second longer, then he's gone — a blur of movement faster than your eyes could track, leaving you alone in the chaos.

your hands tremble as you grab a heavy steel bar from the wreckage, swinging it with all your strength at the glass case. the sound of shattering glass barely registers as you reach inside, your fingers curling around the cold, smooth surface of the amulet.

wild shocks run through you, and you almost keel over, feeling the rush and pulse of such a cursed object against your skin. but it's safe. you have it now.

with it clutched tightly in your hand, you turned and run.

by now, you can't find it within yourself to stop the hot tears from running down your cheeks, streaming freely as you tear through the blood-soaked scene.

you run, the air sharp and cold against your skin, your heartbeat an unrelenting drum in your ears. the thump! making your head pound.

you can follow the residuals of gojo's cursed energy, lingering like a sickly beacon, drawing you back to the dull parking lot. you pushed open the doors with both hands, red smudging onto the concrete as you ignored the sting of your palms

and then you saw it. saw it all.

the scene hits you like a wrecking ball, knocking the breath clean from your lungs.

a body lies crumpled on the ground, its lifelessness more harrowing than the carnage that surrounds it. blood, thick and sticky, smears across the concrete. massive pillars, toppled like a child's toys in the wake of a clear explosion.

your gaze snags on a limp hand sprawled on the floor, and you feel your stomach twist. instinctively, your tongue slides against the back of your teeth, and the metallic tang of iron is already sleeping into your senses.

and then, there was gojo satoru.

he stands amid the wreckage, like a figure carved from shadows, and ice. and fury. his chest softly rises and falls, as though he had been running for miles, his hair disheveled and darkened with sweat.

the sight of him might have almost been human, almost comforting. if not for the gore streaked across his hands, and the thing he drops onto the concrete with a hollow thud.

you don't look at it. you don't think you can. your stomach knows the truth before your mind catches up, bile heaving within you once more.

the head of naoki sato. he would never have stood a chance against the strongest sorcerer in modern history.

final task: retrieve artefact. execute naoki sato on site. alternatively, bring in for execution.

you mind flashes back to that dastardly pink sticky note, still stuck to the case file.

what did you feel now? anger? sadness?

maybe both. maybe neither.

the blood pooling in front of gojo is already congealing, its sickly shine dimming in the cold, fluorescent light of the lot.

you were tired of seeing blood, of tasting it on your tongue, of breathing it in like the very air you needed to survive.

you’d thought there would be relief in the end. but instead, disappointment had rooted itself deep inside you, twisting itself.

naoki sato, for all his crimes and cruetly, had been...something. somewhere beneath the sly smirks and sharp words, there had been glimpses of something that almost looked like hope. he had said he wanted better — for everyone. for you. was it a lie? or had you twisted his words into something more comforting than the truth, desparate to see light where there was none?

your throat burns, but no tears come. just a hollow ache that matches the cold weight of raijin's amulet in your hand. you looked at it now, the thing you’d fought so hard to win, its edges biting into your skin, the dragon leaving its mark.

gojo's voice cut through the silence, low and ragged, and tired, "don’t look."

you hadn’t even realised you were staring, your eyes hovering dangerously close to the lifeless hand on the ground.

"i'm sorry," he had continued, his tone strangely neutral, as if apologising for a cracked glass rather than the irrevocable violence around him, that seemed to trail after him, "i had to do it."

you laughed then, short and bitter, the sound cracking like a whip against the cold air. "had to, gojo?" your voice trembled, not with fear, but something darker. something far more raw.

his gaze had snapped to you, and there it was — the thing that always churned between you two. a storm of emotions, tangled so tightly you could no longer tell where hate ended and yearning began.

"you think this is the resolution i wanted?" gojo shot back, his voice laced with something too jagged to be regret. "you think i enjoyed that?"

and in the most twisted, perverse theatre of your mind's eye, you see gojo's open-mouthed stare, focused on how another man touched you, made you his.

"i don’t know what you enjoy anymore," you take a step closer, your grip tightening on amulet until your knuckles whitened. but the air pushed from your lungs, "but - god, gojo. forget it. i-i don't even know. 'm sorry, too."

gojo sighs, and you see the exhaustion hanging over him too, "we'll go back tomorrow morning."

the walk back to your room is…suffocating. the air is thick with everything that you just cannot say, words that you can't even bring your heavy tongue to shape.

gojo is beind you, and you can feel the weight of his presence pressing between your shoulder blades, but you just can't turn around. you don't dare to. raijin's amulet is still clenched in your hand, and its edges are cutting into your palm, a form of self-flagellation you suppose.

you push the door open, and your breath catches and hitches as you slip inside, slamming it shut after he follows. locking it with shaking hands.

in the suite, the moonlight now slices through the half-drawn curtains, as the tokyo skyline glimmers underneath you. it's painting silver lines across gojo's spectral frame, and he strides to the amenities sink, a smaller outlet near the door.

you watch, as though you're holding a sacred vigil.

your gaze doesn't leave gojo's figure as he throws his jacket off his sharp torso with a disgusted sigh, leaving him in his black dress shirt and a loosened tie.

still watching as his movements are tense, restless as he cups water from the faucet in his hands, splashing it onto his face.

when he finally looks up, gojo's white is hair dripping, his tie slightly askew, and his tired eyes catch yours like a snare.

for a moment, you’re frozen. neither of you say a word. the air feels too thin to breathe, and his gaze is too much — too piercing, too relentless, too him.

you can’t take it.

with a sharp motion, you slam the amulet onto the table, the sound echoing through the quiet room. you spin on your heel and lock yourself in the bathroom, shutting him out.

inside, the luxurious space feels surreal. marble floors gleam under the soft glow of recessed lighting, gold fixtures glinting and stinging your eyes. it smells faintly of jasmine and mint, too perfect for the mess you're about to create.

you grip the edge of the sink as the first sob wrenches its way out of your chest, hot and raw.

tears spill over, cascading down your cheeks in waves you can’t control. they come faster, harder, until you’re gasping, choking on gulps of air that burn in your throat.

you sink onto the cool floor tiles, your knees pulled to your chest as the sobs wrack your body. the weight of everything, what you did, gojo's eyes gleaming, naoki sato's hands on you, the smell of blood, it all crashes over you like a tidal wave. it’s too much for a human heart to bear in one night.

but your hands are shaking as you reach for the hem of your once beautiful dress, peeling it off with clumsy, desperate motions. the air is cool against your skin, you who is now left in undergarments.

and you stare blankly at the blood that smears your arms and legs, before grabbing a small towel, dampening it under the sink and wiping crimson stains away.

small cuts sting on your skin, faint patches where glass struck you, and you hiss.

a knock rattles the bathroom door, sharp and unrelenting, dragging you back to reality.

you close your eyes and exhale through gritted teeth, your voice brittle, "not now, gojo."

silence follows, stretching out long enough to offer the illusion of peace. but then it breaks. another knock, louder, more insistent this time.

"satoru, i swear to god," you snap, your exhaustion fraying into something sharp, laced with more venom now.

there’s a sigh from the other side, audible even through the thick wood, "don't make me blast this door down."

you groan, rolling your eyes as you toss the bloodied towel onto the counter, "you wouldn't dare."

"try me. just open the door, would'you?"

you don’t have the energy to argue, and something in his tone tells you that gojo isn’t bluffing. and so you dragged yourself upright, swinging the door open with more force than necessary.

gojo stands there, with damp hair still clinging to his forehead, beads of water trailing down his templates. and his sleeves are rolled up now, revealing thick forearms flecked with rust and crimson. it wouldn't be his. no, gojo hasn't bled in over a decade.

you straighten, aware of your own state right now. in your undergarments, only shielding you from being entirely bare under his gaze. but the only clothes in this room with you are now crumpled on the floor, in a heap of ice-blue and dark red.

let him look. he's seen more than enough now.

and so you lean back against the sink, crossing your arms as your eyes meet blue, "what do you want?"

gojo hesitates, his jaw tightening as he braces himself. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, rough around the edges, "just...asking if you're alright."

the laugh that escapes you is sharp and hollow, devoid of any humour, "why wouldn't i be?"

gojo's faze flickers, his expression unreadable, but his eyes linger a moment too long. you let him trace the dried blood smeared across your collarbone, the faint scratches on your skin.

"after all of that tonight..." he starts, but the words hang in the air between the two of you, unfinished. his voice suddenly falters, and you're struck by how gojo's razor-sharp confidence has dulled into something weaker, more conflicted.

you know exactly what he means. the stunt he's referring to, in his own earlier words. you wonder what exactly is eating at him now. is it honest concern, pride? residual envy?

"please, trust me. i'm fine, we managed to do what was asked of us, anyway," you clip curtly, hoping your tone is final enough.

gojo looks at you like he doesn't believe a single syllable that slips from your bitten lips, but then his shoulders sag and he exhales sharply, "fine," he mutters, turning on his heel as if he's the one that can't stand to be near you any longer.

"wait."

the word slips out before you can stop it, and gojo pauses, and his eyes are narrowed with suspicion.

you swallow hard, suddenly unsure of yourself, and lift a clean towel from the counter, helping yourself to another one of the hotel's free amenities, "can you help me with this?"

an olive branch.

you gesture with a single finger, over dried blood that has streaked over your back, your neck. the hollow of your collarbone.

you can see the refusal dancing on his tongue, the hesitation in the way his throat bobs, and how gojo's eyes flicker over you once more.

but he doesn't refuse. gojo just wordlessly steps forward, taking the towel from your outstretched hand. you watch, silently, as he moves to the sink and runs it under cold water. you're sitting on the edge of the counter now so you face him, watching the warm golden glow of the overhead lights in his pale hair.

the porcelain is cold against your thighs as you angle yourself away from the mirror, facing gojo. the towel in his hand drips faintly, and you watch as he hesitates again, just for a fraction of a second before stepping closer.

at first, his movements are slow and careful. he's raising the towel, and his hand is steady as you feel the first touch of the cool fabric against your back. a shiver practically races down your spine, not from the cold, but from the way his arm snakes behind you, brushing against your bare skin.

it's subtle at first, but you notice it. the hitch in his breath, the faint tremour in his movements.

gojo, who is always so infuriatingly composed, is shaken. you hear it in the sorcerer's uneven exhale that he doesn't quite manage to suppress, the way his fingers press the towel just a little too harshly.

the suite is silent now except for the faint drip of water and the rasp of fabric against your skin. you should say something, anything, but the words don’t come. instead, your gaze fixes on him, his profile illuminated by the warm glow of the bathroom light.

gojo's features are always striking, almost ethereal: the ice-white hair that falls messily against his forehead, the long white lashes that frame those sharp, cerulean-blue eyes. there’s something softened by the warm light, as though the harshness of his presence, of a man who stands above heaven and earth, has been dulled just enough to make him seem almost...human again.

but you feel as though your heart must just give way, pounding so hard that it may burst. where the blood that fell from another man's veins had somehow drawn a line to gojo satoru instead.

an hour ago, you had been arched into another, naoki sato, one who had been a dead man walking. an hour ago, his hands were on you, his lips hot and insistent, and his eyes were warm, and now he’s gone. dead. gojo made sure of that. and that was always meant to happen.

the thought should make you furious. it should make you push gojo away, but instead, all you can do is sit there, feeling his hands —gentle now, impossibly careful, on your skin.

it's wrong. it's so deeply, fundamentally wrong, and yet the space another man left feels like it was carved out for gojo satoru all along.

gojo's touch slows as he runs the towel over your skin, tracing the line of your collarbone with a precision that feels almost tender. your eyes slip closed for a moment, the warmth of his hand lingering even as the cold water wipes away the blood.

then he moves again.

it happens fast enough that you barely register it. one second, gojo satoru is standing tall and focused on the task, and the next...he's leaning down. his breath ghosting over the hollow of your neck.

you feel your entire world tilt as his lips press softly against the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, a touch so light that it feels stolen.

but now you've frozen, every breath catching as though the air was snatched from your lungs. every nerve feels as though it's on fire, hyper-aware of how soft the brush of his lips was, the faint scrape of his teeth just shy of your skin.

how gojo's lips were almost reverent, like a prayer offered in silence. how he was worshipping something he couldn't ever have.

but your eyes snap open to meet his.

gojos's cerulean eyes are molten, the usual ice cracked and melting into something deep and desperate and all-consuming. they bore into yours, wild and unguraded, and the pale lashes framing them tremble lighting as though even he's unsure of what he's just done.

but gojo's pupils are also blown wide, and electric. like a storm trapped in glass.

you swallow hard, your pulse thundering in your throat. slowly, cautiously, you dip your head, just enough to give him permission without saying a word.

the look in his eyes shifts — hunger, disbelief, and something darker all tangled together. he presses his lips to your neck again, firmer this time, lingering as though committing the feel of your skin to memory. then again, slightly higher, his breath hot and uneven against you.

"satoru…" the name slips from your lips in a whisper, trembling and unbidden.

the warmth of his tongue catches you off guard, tracing the curve of your neck in a way that sends a jolt through your entire body, heat down to your thighs. it's...unhinged, but the part of you that should push him away is nowhere to be found.

gojo pulls back just enough for you to see the faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remain dark, intense, and burning with something that feels too big for the room.

"another man got to taste you," he whispers, "now i've tasted him."

you almost laugh, sharp and bitter. the sound lodging in your throat. the absurdity of it all, the jealously lacing his words like a poison vine, the way his breath still fans against your skin.

"that's insane," you manage, your voice shaking. it does little to stop the searing heat curling low in your stomach.

for a second, gojo's breath is still hot against your neck. and then suddenly, his hands are on you.

and fuck, it's not delicate at all. there's a roughness to his touch, desparate and unrestrained, as though something inside him as finally snapped.

his palms trace along your bare shoulders, sliding down to your arms, and then to your waist. his fingers press into your skin with a heat that makes you feel like you're burning from the inside out. you don't even realise when you had opened your mouth slightly, panting as if you're trying to pull more air in.

"gojo," you manage, barely audible, and you're acutely aware of the low tense ache beginning to throb in your groin.

his hands slow for a moment, resting on your sides as if he’s trying to ground himself, or stop himself. and gojo's eyes find yours again, and they’re ablaze.

"can i keep going?"

you wonder just how you've managed to unravel this man, to leave his voice hanging by a thread in the air.

you don’t answer right away, your head swimming with confusion, slick desire, and something dangerously close to surrender. gojo satoru is watching you so intently it’s like he’s searching for every unspoken answer written on your skin.

finally, you shift — subtle, but enough. your knees part slightly, just enough for him to step between your bare thighs.

"what do you want me to do?"

you're aware of the insistent, rhythmic pulsing under your panties. of how every small shift of gojo's body against yours amplifies the soft arousal forming, as your heart pounds faster.

and so you let your fingers hook onto the pale waistband of your underwear, and you watch as his gaze follows your movements.

"i want you to touch me, there. please."

you hear the white-haired man breathe out a thankful, reverent fuck before he's following the path of your own hands, hooking a slender finger into your waistband and pulling your underwear down, and off.

and you're so painfully aware of your own arousal right now, the wet that is pooling beneath you. it feels like a relief, parting your legs so your searing heat meets cool air.

"that's perfect, look at t-that," and you're suddenly whining as gojo's fingertips begin grazing sloppy folds, raking themselves over your fluttering entrance, "she's practically been beggin' for my touch all this time, hah!"

"you - ohh, gojo!" you moan, feeling awfully faint from the rippling warmth making your cunt tighten around him, each pshh! echoing in your burning ears, "y-you wish!"

gojo's laugh is a little crazed, undone as he rolls his fingers in practiced curls, at an inhuman pace. bullying his fingers into your opening, as he rasps, "yeah, i w-wish. 'm wishing for this all the time. you never knew, huh?"

"f-fuck, if i had known it felt like this, would've stuck my fingers in h-her a long time ago," gojo unfurls his fingers that only just separated from your winking pussy, and you can only watch.

equally mesmerised as his slender fingers are coated in strands of your slick, clinging to the curves of his short nails and coating them in a mirror sheen.

"have some c-class, gojo! you've lost your fuckin' mind -"

smack!

the dewy pads of his fingers have come down in a harsh arc, slapping right at your throbbing clit, and the jolt sends such an incredible crack of lightning down your spine that you're bucking your hips back up into his hand, back for more.

"some class? hah, 'm not able to do that now, baby," and you can feel gojo shudder under your touch, as you paw at the linen of his black dress shirt, raking your nails over his pectorals, "not when it f-feels like your pussy is about to, fuck, vacuum my fingers off."

"i swear to god, gojo. never say that corny shit a-again."

but it's hard to convey any sense of righteous fury like this. not when he's back to pushing the tapered ends of his long fingers in and out of your tight heat. each brush from the pads of his fingertips leaves you squealing, tugging at the snowy strands on the back of his head.

but gojo's teeth are sharp as they sink into the damp skin of your neck with an almost reverent press, easily snapping through the delicate flesh.

and you're squealing, shocked at how fucking bold gojo satoru has become, whining at how a sharp hiss pulses through you, and you can feel the warmth of blood beginning to bloom and pool over your collarbone.

"shit, 'm sorry, baby. so sorry. but i'm gonna need to see you l-like this," and suddenly gojo snaps away the pussydrunk babble falling from his candied mouth, and he's pressing a searing kiss to your jaw, and the air becomes hazy with the scent of an insanely expensive cologne, cedar and something...sweet, like cardamom.

still, there's hardly time to dissect that.

not when his thick arm is around your waist, handling you until you're smack bang between his legs, right between dark slacks. and gojo has shifted, so your back is flat against the hard planes of his chest, and your knuckles can only grip at the vanity sink. so your eyes can only see your naked torso twisting in the mirror.

"keep your eyes h-here, sweets. on us."

and god, that's exactly where your eyes are. falling on a tense forearm around your waist, as the other works its fierce way through the clamping, gummy walls of your leaking cunt. and you're shuddering underneath him, feeling each brush of his fingers in you.

"w-we make a pretty sight, don't we, yeah?" and the words are spilling from gojo's lips with a certain smugness, but it's rough around the edges, strained. and you just can't look away from how utterly ruined he looks, from touching you.

you watch the glossed shine of your trickling pussy twinkle in the warm lights, as gojo pushes your thighs open wider. his frame leans over yours, taut and straining. and his lips are flushed and parted, betraying the deep ache of his breath.

"go onnn, say it. c'mon," and now gojo's whining in your ear, letting his hand push further into the mess as your pussy is practically weeping onto his fingertips, "won't let you c-cum if you don't say it."

your chest heaves with each desperate, gulping breath. and you can see gojo's vision narrow on how your tits threaten to spill out from their confines, the swell of your chest rising as you try to draw air through your close orgasmic daze. where the edges of your vision blur, and your heart is pounding erratically, "ahhh, gojo! 'm gonna, i think 'm gonna, oh my god!"

but there's more, you want so much more.

and against better thought, you push and elbow back into gojo's chest, heaving as he flicks his thumb over your aching clit.

"hah, what is it now? fuck was that for?" and the man is scowling at you, seemingly irritated that you drew him away from the hypnotic pull of your pulsing walls.

you swivel, away from the mirror so you're facing him. and your eyes fall on the heavy, pitched tent in gojo's grey slacks, one that must be aching and awfully painful from the way he's running his pink tongue over his bruised mouth.

"wan' more, gojo. on the bed."

you've reached up behind your back, unhooking the clip that was holding your bra together. it falls, and you toss it into the pile where gojo had flung your clingy panties, over your gorgeous dress.

and you think gojo satoru might have just had a minor heart attack.

his expression has shifted, lips parted as he takes in your naked form. you think you hear his breath hitch, as his eyes roam over you, unblinking. you're certain that the mildly brighter light in the room has nothing to do with what's overhead, rather the bright blue of gojo's six eyes.

you snicker at his dumbstruck expression, letting your hand curl around his wrist — marvelling at how he almost whines at the sight of you pushing him out of the bathroom suite, and onto that glorious bed that the two of you had argued over earlier in the day.

"n-not so opposed to sharing a bed with me now, sweets? oh, fuck," you don't let him get any more words out, since you're reaching for the sleek leather belt threading through the loops of his slacks, pawing at them so you can finally undress him. have him as bare as you are now.

something in your desparate touch must have made gojo snap, because now he's shuffling the two of you around, so you're practically splayed out under his warm, large hands. thighs spread, parted so your dripping cunt is displayed to the room, as he scoots closer. his knees pressing against the carpet.

"hnnghh, f-fuck, look at her. practically cryin' on me."

and what a sight. gojo satoru, the most powerful man to walk this earth in centuries is slumped beneath your thighs, close enough to your clit that when he breathes, he knocks his nose right over the sensitive bud, coating his face in that syrupy glaze.

and then its slow, painful. how his long tongue descends onto your weeping pussy, writhing flat in wide, broad strokes that leave you whining out his name.

you spread your legs even wider, fighting against gojo's tight grip on the flesh of your thighs. the thighs that are trembling as he brings his teeth up to graze your clit, and your arousal drips from his lips. making candied pink lips look like they've been glazed and dipped in sugar.

briefly, in the back of your mind, you wonder how you're going to continue to function tomorrow. how you're going to even be able to walk after gojo satoru has rendered you boneless.

you also wonder if there's a cosmic deity out there, looking at an invisible and heavenly camera with a dull look on their face. something like what can you do?

"mmhph, y'know i l-like this a lot better than that drink from earlier," and he's cooing at how you squeal and moan, "hah, what was that s-shit called? a cream soda."

you pull at the white strands of his hair, yanking gojo's head back from where his tongue had been lolling around your clit, ignoring his whine, "if y-you make a stupid, fuckin' joke about creaming, i'm g-gonna leave."

gojo rolls his eyes, but this time? this time, there's no malice in it, no irritation. his expression is almost fond, if not shadowed by the enormity of his own lust, "leaving before the main event is dumb choice, sweets."

"tch! get to i-it then, oh! what the fuck, gojo!"

he's found the right place to prod, to roll his fingers over the hood of your clit, occasionally propping his mouth down to suck at it lightly. your mouth is clamped shut, so you don't release an absurd amount of babble, wordless and airless about how good he's devouring you.

"hah," gojo huffs, pressing three flat fingers against your entrance, letting them curl into your walls, enough to tease you, "i can feel her beating for me. 's pulsing all over."

"c-can't you jus' make me cum?" your hands are desparate for some friction, running past your perked tits, down to his hair again. now clamping your thighs around his head, and the soft, snowy hair of his head tickles at your skin.

"can' believe you're talking shit when i'm e-eating you out," gojo chuckles, but you're just too mesmerised by the glint of your slick lighting a beacon over the lower half of his face, strands of slick as he pulls away from your pussy, "y'not that patient, huh?"

he's practically attached to your clit now, kissing it with a tender and yet firm press of his lips, seemingly aware of just how sensitive you are to that type of pressure.

you whimper and mewl as gojo's head disappeared back between your legs, deeper and lower as his tongue pushes into your pussy, flicking shallow thrusts that makes you breathe out gasps of his name.

"now i think 'm gonna cum, so close, satoru," with your hand firmly lodged in his platinum strands, you're rocking your hips messily, sloppily against his awaiting mouth.

"y-yeah? go on, sweets," he's moaning now too, and you don't miss how the edge of the bed rocks just a bit from him grinding the frame for some release on his own erection.

your orgasm makes your mind foggy, and you practically quake in gojo's large, warm hands. with a sharp cry of his name, followed by an endless chant of praise for the unearthly man between your legs, lapping at you as though you are his last drink, his last meal on this earth before he ascends elsewhere.

the hard streaks of white shoot through your vision, even as you come down from the incredible high, and you realise gojo has not stopped.

gojo's jaw is still locked as your slick dribbles down your folds, into his open mouth and onto his waiting tongue. the extra stimulation makes you deliriously cry out, "fuck, s-satoru! 's too much, holy fuck!"

you were still shaking, and a second orgam blurred your sight into an incredible spectrum of colours, white hot starlight and streaks of blue. that cascade of vivid tints flood your vision, each one jerking your hips and cunt forward until you felt your legs give way.

until gojo finally separated himself from your thighs, satisfied at how he had pulled two climaxes from you.

he's absolutely lost it, lost in that daze of being pussywhipped, and his eyes gleam with a feverish intensity. and when he crashes pink, glossy lips down on your mouth, you can feel him shake under your touch.

you moan, loud, as he nips at your lower lip. at how you can taste yourself on his tongue, syrup strands falling into your mouth as gojo suddenly twitches.

"i think 'm gonna have to be in you right now, otherwise i'll literally fuckin' die."

a breathy laugh falls from your lips as your partner pulls himself up, heavy limbs finally extracting themselves away from your naked body, reaching up to hook his fingers over the black crinkle of his rumpled dress shirt, pulling the fabric off.

leaving your mouth dry.

the moonlight spills over gojo's torso, and you track your eyes over his broad chest, rising and falling and flushed from his own arousal.

you follow the faint dusting of pale white hair as it disappeared past the waistband of his slacks that he's quickly making short work of, and you feel your pussy clench thinking about how badly you need to jump gojo satoru's bones.

but you're too transfixed by him, by the sculpted figure of a supposedly cold and arrogant bastard you've spent months and years rolling your eyes at.

he's real. all hot flesh and blood, and stunning. not that sneering, and infuriating man who's always one step ahead, always one callous word away from making your blood boil.

for a different heat has settled in you now, as your eyes fall on his throbbing cock that has sprung forth, up over his stomach. the tip is an angry, and furious berry-pink and you wonder just how you're going to make these inches fit.

"hah, didn’t think you'd be this shy, you know,” he says, voice a low, husky tease, as if he’s been watching your struggle. gojo's eyes glint with amusement, but there’s something deeper beneath it, something that you hope with lead him to take mercy on you.

"n-no. no," you repeat yourself more firmly, but it's far too breathless to be convincing, "no, 'm not shy."

but it's hard to form coherent thoughts when gojo satoru is towering over you, and his absurdly long and girthy shaft is twitching in between your slick folds.

"fuck you, s-satoru," you're whimpering, feeling the pulsing, rounded head of his flushed tip brush past your sensitive, drooling slit, "taking too long. jus' put it in already."

"mhmm, sweets," and gojo's bustling at your thighs now, pinching the soft and tender skin in retaliation for your touch undoing him so easily, "she can't even be patient, hah, trus' me. just lay back."

you comply, just this once. just because gojo satoru's cock looks so big, you think you need to gather all your thoughts so you'll be able to form coherent sentences later.

resting your head back on plush sheets, with the skyline twinkling in your peripheral vision as gojo's aligning himself with your cunt. he's gasping in low, shuddering breaths as his tip teases and hooks onto your inner walls.

"look at thaaat, oh! baby, fuck, wasn' even joking before, just sucking me up so fuckin' good!"

you don't reply, just mewling as he pushes inch after veiny inch into your dribbling walls, gasping as his large hands rest on the back of your thighs, pushing them further up so he can slot his torso in between your legs.

"oh my god, satoru! s-satoru, hnnhgh, it's too much — i don' think it's gon' fit," you always thought you would be embarrassed to lose composure like this in front of gojo, but you find yourself panting into the crook of his neck, raking nails down his flushed neck.

he's big, and you can feel every vein of his tapered curve hitting the right spots within you, as you shift your hips, desperate to let his sinuous cock kiss every inch of your pussy lovingly.

"gon' dumb already?" gojo's huffing, but you can see that he's not unaffected. his eyes are glazed over, hazy as he slowly draws his hips back just an inch, before scooting them forward already, "jus' gonna have to make this pussy learn from now on. don' worry, sweets. it'll fit."

the 'from now on' makes something in your pounding heart flutter.

but you have little time to focus on it as he bottoms out in your drenched cunt, as though you're hearing the slosh of your pussy coat him entirely, right up to the wiry, white hairs on his groin.

"hahh, there we go! the w-wonders of a positive attitude, don'tcha think?" and you're left with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, as he begins to pick up the pace. a steady staccato that has you jostling underneath his ministrations.

you let his mouth chase yours, capturing glossy lips with your own bite, letting him pant, and whine and praise the heavens above for how tight you're snatching him right now.

"she's p-perfect, isn't she? t-thought about it so much, y'got no idea, got no c-clue about how much i thought about you under me like this n' how you'd f-feel!"

gojo satoru is absolutely drunk from a nectar that he has tasted once. the same nectar that coats his cock in frothy, filthy rings as he pistons his hips out of your pussy.

"happy for y-you, satoru," and you're letting your nails scratch over the shell of his ear as he twitches and shudders, "but fuck, y'talk too much! jus' focus on fucking me!"

gojo's mouth quirks upwards, that knowing smirk playing on his lips as he looks at you bemused, and so hazy.

"god, a lot of that attitude now, hahh?" and he's drawling the words out, and you don't miss how he shudders when you clench around his shaft, on purpose. he's leaning in closer, barely brushing past your lips, and you wonder briefly for a split-second, gojo satoru might just really love you.

and then, without warning, his hand comes down to your side, just underneath the fat of your tits, pinching lightly at the abdomen. causing you to take a sharp intake of breath, and a dizzy huff of his name.

if you ever believed that gojo satoru was malicious in the workplace, a bane on your sanity, you had not been prepared for how he was stretching you out in all the right places.

that inhumane pace of the strongest had him snapping his hips sharply, over and over until he's hitting the spongy patch, deep within your walls.

"clamped around me like, ohh, like a fuckin' vice," gojo's grunting now, each breath coming out short puffs that match the timing of the slap! each whack of his cock delivers, pressing your hips together and coating his hips in sweet slick.

"mmph, feels so good, satoru!" you squeal, pressing a hand over your mouth so you don't wake up the entire top floor of the hotel, tits jostling with each shuffle and movement.

it's all coming down on you too quick, that electric haze shooting down your spine. made all the worse by gojo groaning and slipping his hand between his jackhammering hips, down to where your clit is practically throbbing for his touch.

he's running tight circles, before pressing the flat of his thumb under the hood of your clit, ripping a raw cry from the back of your throat, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as gojo's lips are leaving blooming marks over your neck.

"satoru, i t-think 'm gonna c-cum again," you moan, fluttering your lashes against your skin, rolling your hips up into gojo's quick fingers and brutal cock. but it feels different this time, nothing like your past two orgasms. you feel something draw its claws further into your groin, like you're going to burst and the breath will be stolen away from your lungs.

you hear gojo say something, snarky but tender as he laughs into your collarbone, as he's slapping his fingers down quickly over your clit, making you jolt. but you don't hear his words as blood roars in your eears, gushing all over his cock with a clear, sticky sheen that coats him deliciously.

makes gojo satoru groan out filthy praises over your marked skin, "didn' know you were that nasty? hahh, squirtin' over me on your first go, yeah? it's gettin' too much for me too, s-sweets. think 'm gonna hafta maaa -"

you have no inkling as to what gojo was aiming to groan out, fluttering his own blue eyes shut as his orgasm catches up to him, pumping you insanely full of thick, stringy seed. practically painting your inner walls a translucent white as you huff and whine.

but in the back of your mind, you think he wanted to marry you. a bridge you'll cross when you get to it.

"fillin' you up, good, aren't i?" and he's lost in a daze, and you watch as his muscles ripple in the light of the moon, pectorals gleaming as he stuffs you further, as if plugging his seed to stay in you, making you squirm from the delicious stimulation.

you should have paid a little more attention to your surroundings. less attention to the thick veins of his cock drilling a home in you. or less attention to how his lips curl up into a sweeter smile as he presses soft, happy kisses to your cheek while you lay exhausted, caged by his thick arms.

then, you might have noticed the lights flicker and then shatter for half the hotel's rooms.

the morning sun peeks through the curtains like an overenthusiastic alarm clock, dragging you out of sleep with its gentle warmth. you stretch lazily, limbs still heavy and sticky from the weight of...the previous night's activities.

the sheets feel ridiculous soft, kudos to the insanely over-priced hotel. and for a second, you entertain the thought of just staying here. forever.

that is, until your eyes fall on raijin's amulet over on the wooden table.

and the fact that gojo is nowhere to be found.

you blink, squinting at the empty space beside you. your first instinct is to check besides the bed, and then under it, for fear that the six-foot three man has simply fallen off.

but your gaze falls on a tiny pink sticky-note on the nightstand. one that you suspect was pilfered from the scattered case file on the couch. you peer at looping cursive, scrawled in a blue marker.

don't eat anything yet! gone to get a proper breakfast!

you can't help the soft huff that leaves you, fond in its escape. you feel this sudden urge to don some proper clothes, to go down and join him in the warm sunlight.

but then you pause. perhaps, you ought not to. it would be fun to let him miss you just a bit. the thought of the gojo satoru standing there, waiting in line for entirely average pancakes is amusement enough for you.

but before you can pull the crisp sheets over your head, your eyes catch a glimpse of something else by the bed. a small, satin-blue box that didn't exist yesterday, in the world of cruel choices and...semi-successful missions.

the memory of yesterday pulls a frown from you, but you shake your head, determined to clear your thoughts.

you reach for it, letting your fingers run over the smooth surface, before tugging at the silver ribbon cautiously. half-expecting to find something weird like gojo's usual idea of a joke like a half-naked framed photo of him with a lipstick print.

ah!

but instead, inside the box lies a thin necklace. you've stared longingly enough at shop windows to know that these are real diamonds. not the cheap kind either, a well-cut carat that makes you gasp to yourself, a flush running over your cheeks.

for a moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched unbearably heavy. but then gojo’s ice-gaze dropped to the necklace scattered over your throat, and he tilted his head, "not too bad," a flicker of a scoff curling at his lips. "tch, they’re not even real," you blurted, then immediately regretted it, what was wrong with you today? you reached up, fingers grazing the cool crystals as if to shield them from his bemused scrutiny, "just thought i needed something to fit in."

you pick it up, feeling the cold weight of it in your hand. what is this, romance? a necklace? gojo satoru doesn’t even do romance. at least, not in the way anyone would expect.

he’s the kind of guy who would absolutely get you diamonds just to throw you off balance. mission accomplished.

you glance at the sticky note again, then back at the necklace. this is way too much for your sleep-addled brain. and yet, there’s this funny little thing inside you, a warm spark that you don’t know what to do with.

fuck, when did he even have the time to get this gorgeous gift?

you’re definitely not soft, but gojo does this thing to you — he has a way of turning your whole world upside down, and now…apparently, he’s gone and done it again.

your cheeks warm, but you don't admit to it. not yet. but there's no denying the softer spot that's growing in you, the urge to have gojo satoru in your arms in this very moment so you can run your hands through soft, white hair to watch him purr. to see his cheeks flush from a sweet blush as his blue eyes flutter shut.

your eyes fall on his crumpled uniform jacket from yesterday, his discarded clothes. perhaps, you could just join him. after all, you feel words threatening to spill from your mouth and you want him to hear them.

a surprise of your own? you think you want to see gojo satoru speechless for once.

do not plagiarise or repost! likes and reblogs appreciated. btw, this jenny packham was the dress i envisioned for reader but imagine whatever you like!

[haus-of-wu-ao3]

fictober 2024 - day 27: let me remind you

summary:

it's easy to forget that taemin is dangerous. that he isn't human, that he can break everything around him with little effort at all.

rating: teen and up audiences; no archive warnings apply

relationship: lee taemin & kim jongin | kai

genre: magical realism, vignette

content warnings: none

[spacequokka]

Page 104

Prompt: The dinner was elegant, with freshly pressed white linen beneath tall white candles that burned in silver holders; and a table set for guests who didn’t eat.

The table Sehun guided you to was massive, enough to fit ten people easily. “The others will come down when they’re ready,” he said as he pushed your chair in. “They gave me permission to start serving you so the food doesn’t get cold.” He uncovered the tray in front of you. The dinner plate was loaded with food that made your stomach growl. To say it smelled delicious would’ve been an understatement.

“Thank you.” You picked up your fork and carefully sampled the vegetables. “If you don’t mind my asking, why are they late? Is it because of work?”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all.” He grinned as he filled your glass with red wine. “You know we invited you here to sign the contract. Well, some of us are just about at our limit. In other words,” he bent down and whispered in your ear, “they had to be…restrained until you’re ready to feed them.”

“Oh. Oh.”

He stood upright again. “Yes. Don’t worry. As soon as they’re secured, the rest will be down shortly to join us.”

[aphroditelovesu]

.navigation

✿.｡Welcome to my blog! My name is Larissa, but feel free to call me Lari or Lady L, which is how you know me. I'm Brazilian 🇧🇷 and I was born on October 15th. English is not my first language. My pronouns are she/her and I am bisexual 💖💜💙. I am Libra ♎️ and INTP.

⤷♡. If you want to support my work or to just tip me, can you buy me a coffee? ☕️

⤷✿.Here I've gathered all my series, masterlists and some additional things to make them easier to find. Enjoy my blog, dear reader.

© aphroditelovesu, 2022. all rights reserved. do not translate or repost my work without my permission. you are free to use my edits, but I only ask that you credit me.

⤷♡.+ disclaimer: some of my works may have nsfw content in addition to the yandere genre. if you are sensitive to these topics, I recommend not reading.

⤷♡.+ genre: yandere/dark!au.

⤷♡.+ Requests are OPEN. Asks and concepts are open.

⤷♡.+ character ai: aphroditelovesu.

⤷♡.+ Rules and Fandoms List;

⤷♡.+ Emoji Prompt List + Prompts List;

⤷♡.+ Wips; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6; 7; 8;

⤷♡.+ Commissions;

‘‘Love you so bad, love you so bad, mold a pretty lie for you.’‘ ˚˖੭ Fake Love, BTS.

⤷♡.+ BTS; 💜

⤷♡.+ BLACKPINK; 🖤

⤷♡.+ ITZY; 🧡

⤷♡.+ Stray Kids; 💙

➷ EXO: Yandere Baekhyun (Romantic), Yandere Suho (Romantic).

➷ TWICE: Imagine as Classmates.

⤷♡.+ Greek Mythology; ⚡

⤷♡.+ Egyptian Mythology; 𓂀

⤷♡.+ Historical Characters; 📜

➷ The Lost Queen | Yandere!Alexander the Great ❝You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn't understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren't safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won't let you go so easily.❞ The Lost Queen Series Masterlist

⤷♡.+ The Vampire Diaries + The Originals; 🧛

⤷♡.+ House of the Dragon; 🐉

⤷♡.+ Game of Thrones; ❄️

⤷♡.+ The Sandman; ⌛

⤷♡.+ Outlander; 🗿

⤷♡.+ Wednesday; 🎻

⤷♡.+ Brooklyn Nine-Nine; 👮‍♂️

⤷♡.+ Bridgerton; 🐝

⤷♡.+ Shadow and Bone; ☠️

⤷♡.+ Outer Banks; 💰

⤷♡.+ K-Dramas; ❤️

⤷♡.+ Reign; 👑

⤷♡.+ The Tudors; 🗡️

⤷♡.+ Hannibal; 🍽

➷ The Bloody Viscount | Yandere!Anthony Bridgerton ❝You had fallen in love with Viscount Bridgerton and he had fallen in love with you. The marriage seemed perfect, but then why did Anthony Bridgerton always come home late and bloodstained?❞ Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; ➷ The Shadow of the Golden Dragon | Yandere!ASOIAF/HOTD/GOT ❝You have always been an avid reader and your greatest passion was delving into the pages of "A Song of Ice and Fire" by George R.R. Martin. You knew every character, every twist and every detail of the Seven Kingdoms as if they were part of your own life. But what you never imagined is that an unexpected encounter with a mysterious antique book seller would change your life forever.❞ The Shadow of the Golden Dragon Masterlist

⤷♡.+ Percy Jackson; 🌊

⤷♡.+ Harry Potter; 🔮

⤷♡.+ A Court of Thorns and Roses; 🌹

⤷♡.+ A Song of Ice and Fire; 🔥

‘‘We were born to be alone but why we still looking for love?’‘ ˚˖੭ Lovesick Girls, BLACKPINK.

⤷♡.+ Attack on Titan; ⚔️

⤷♡.+ Naruto; 🍥

⤷♡.+ Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir; 🐞

⤷♡.+ One Piece; 👒

⤷♡.+ How To Train Your Dragon; 🐲

⤷♡.+ Death Note; 📓

‘‘Don’t you know that you’re toxic?’’ ˚˖੭ Toxic, Britney Spears.

⤷♡.+ Marvel; ۞

‘‘I wish you would love me again, no, I don't want nobody else.’’ ˚˖੭ Love Me Again, V.

⤷♡.+ Love Letters; 💕

⤷♡.+ Love Letters II; 💕

⤷♡.+ Kinktober 2023; 🎃

➷ A Black Rose | Yandere!Ian Daerier ❝A cruel and narcissistic reaper falls in love with the woman he was supposed to take the life of.❞ Oneshot;