#light stsg but when is a gojo fic NOT hinting at stsg

[elsecrytt]

masochist gojo. gojo who's in love with pain, so much that it feels like pleasure, he can barely distinguish between the two anymore.

gojo who's so starved for touch. who's had an infinite space between himself and the whole world for so long, for so many years, every day in and day out.

gojo who's survived off glancing presses when a barista hands him a coffee, the rare hug from his students (who are mostly orphans) that he can't bring himself to decline.

gojo who craves more but can't bring himself to accept it except in fleeting moments with strangers or students.

his hands that long to be held. he wants it so bad that he teases a cursed spirit, laces his fingers with its own, right before he utterly crushes the being in battle, untouchable all over again.

gojo whose skin is hungry for someone else's. he hasn't felt the warmth of a hand in his own in so long. not since - since his youth.

gojo who sometimes wishes he could get hit. who sees the impact of curse techniques on his infinity and feels a wild, strange desire for them to go straight through and strike him.

he imagines it, vividly, being impaled by a long spear (inverted spear) that goes straight through him. how it would lance his flesh so cleanly.

being struck so hard, across the face, in the stomach, enough to knock the wind out of him.

enough to feel it with his whole body.

gojo who wants to be touched so bad he doesn't even care if it hurts anymore. infinity couldn't protect him from geto's betrayal.

gojo who keeps infinity up not because he doesn't want to get hit, but because he's terrified of what he might do when it happens.

gojo who got hard whenever geto sparred with him. he still doesn't know if it was because of geto, or because he had no infinity back then, no way to block the strikes.

he dreams of his youth. bruises littering his pale, pretty form like kisses, proof that he was human, there, that there was someone who could reach him.

dark purple things that turned pretty colors as they healed. he remembers pressing into them, relishing the hurt, feeling like he was getting hit (touched, reached, connected) all over again.

nothing ever touches him again. not like that. not like anything.

he never feels it. he never feels anything.

satoru gojo who wants, so very very badly, to feel something.

pain is a choice for him, always a choice. he alone has the privilege of deciding whether or not anything can touch him.

he could try to let more strangers touch him. one night stands, discreet arrangements. he had a pretty face and a body to match. there was no shortage of willing partners.

he lets them touch him, lets them hurt him. lets them drool over his body and use it at their leisure. they tell him he's beautiful, and he believes them.

white hair, blue eyes, sprawled out with a lean, unmarred body full of bare flesh for them to bite and scratch and bruise. he finds people who will do it, do it hard, fuck him up until he's lost entirely in the feeling of being touched, having someone against him, with him, above him.

it makes him feel like a piece of meat. it makes him feel good.

or he thinks it does, anyways.

sometimes, when he's gone particularly long without sleep, when his partner has gone particularly hard, he gets a real rush.

heart racing out of his chest. a cold sweat that overwhelms him. breaths coming in labored gasps. he can heal himself, he's physically fine, so this must all be in his head.

he acknowledges that information, distantly, like it's not happening to him. it doesn't help.

it feels like part of his body has been ripped away from him, something vital and important, and it's about to get up and run away.

always, always, it happens when his partner is no longer touching him. when he lays alone in the sheets, by his own volition, because of course these partners are not meant to be attachments.

love is not a privilege, though, not for the strongest sorcerer. it's a curse.

it's the only curse which infinity cannot protect him from.

so gojo stays untouchable. distant.

but the hunger doesn't go away. never.

he likes to imagine that suguru swallowed this one last curse before he died. something sweet and bitter, like losses at the arcade, sunny days at the beach, walking together with shoko, nanami, haibara.

but even suguru couldn't have absorbed this curse. it's in his bones, deep, longing and wanting even after he's dead and gone.

gojo is hungry. he is so, so hungry. and he has nothing to eat that will not leave him just as empty as before.

touch-starved. love-starved. pain-craving.

if someone could hurt him then it wouldn't matter that he was terrified of attachment. they could latch onto him, into his heart, under his skin. bury themselves in his chest like they belonged.

they could kill a hundred and twelve people and it wouldn't matter, because he wouldn't be able to kill them.

gojo is hungry, so hungry.

please feed him.

[somepsychopomp]

Vampire Gojo/Getou/Nanami AU!

I got a commission to write a saucy AU featuring Vampire!stsg & Vampire Hunter!Nanami. This was a ton of fun to write and a much needed breather between the bigger fics I'm actively writing right now. Thank you for the commission, anon! ♥️

Word Count: 2,300

TW: blood

Link to read this fic on Ao3

(BTW my commissions are still open. See the details here!)

+++

Nanami couldn’t say he ever envisioned himself hunting vampires for a living, especially after trying to give it up, but he kept trying to tell himself it was somehow superior to wasting his life at an office job. 

Yes, sleeping at odd hours of the day and working from sunset to sunrise most nights, embodying a cruel parody of his prey’s nocturnal lifestyle, was better than toiling away at a perpetual stream of emails and phone calls. Yes, nearly having his throat ripped out on a near-daily basis was preferable to having an overbearing boss that loved to ask Nanami to work overtime while he himself left early every Friday. No, he did not regret his change in careers, even if the pay was laughably low considering he could die on the job at any time. 

Until now. 

The higher-ups sent him to clean out a vampire nest that had established itself in an abandoned warehouse outside of Tokyo. It was the perfect location, isolated but still bearing easy access to human populations. The vampires he found were rather weak, bearing deadly fangs and preternatural strength but no additional abilities. They were more like mindless animals than the people they once were, but he’d learned not to pity the things he was sent to exterminate. Nanami made quick work of the nest once he arrived, killing the few dozen vampires in just one night. It would’ve gone by quicker, but the old warehouse was full of discarded industrial machinery, making up a labyrinth of steel.

By the end of the job, he’d run through nearly his entire supply of wooden stakes, blunting all but one in his messy, bloody endeavors. The scent of rot and gore hung in the air, though to be fair, it did already smell like that when he arrived. Nanami twirled his last stake in his hand as he did a final sweep of the warehouse. The holes in the ceiling let in the very faintest trace of gray light, hinting that dawn was soon to come. But until then, it was still too dark to see. Nanami had to navigate by his narrow flashlight beam and his own eyes, long accustomed to scanning for movement in the shadows. 

He was on the far side of the warehouse, as far from the only known exit as he could be, when he shivered. His only warning was the way the hair on the back of his neck rose as if lightning was about to strike. 

Then it was as if something did hit him, his flashlight shattering in his hand and plunging him into darkness. Nanami raised his stake without hesitation, keeping his other arm up to guard his throat. 

“Who’s there?” he called, hoping to lure the straggler to him. How annoying, that the surviving vampire had some kind of additional power. Nanami waited, but nothing burst from the shadows. However, he could tell he was being watched. He shouted, “Come out! I know you’re there!”

He expected a shriek or a low hiss. Not a coherent human voice. 

“Hey, Nanami.”

His stomach coiled into a tight knot. That playful tone… he’d heard it only once before, back when he was a young student and a novice hunter. But he could never forget it; that voice belonged to one of the two beings in their profession that spelled certain death. 

A light turned on in front of him, almost making him step back. No, it wasn’t a light. It was the glowing blue eyes of the strongest vampire lord in the entire world, Gojou Satoru. 

He appeared in front of Nanami out of thin air, just out of reach and hovering a few inches over the ground as if to add to his already staggering height. Gojou was canted forward, hands behind his back in a strangely childish pose. 

The only reason he’d ever let a hunter live was to play with and kill them another day. Nanami thought about the tedious office job and long life he willingly gave up just to wind up here, about to be bled dry like an animal for slaughter. 

Those blinding, sapphire eyes looked past Nanami’s stake and bore right into him, as easily as a fang would sever an artery. 

He refused to give up his steady composure even in the face of the greatest vampire. 

Gojou smiled, flashing his sharpened canines. “Aw, do you really think you’re going to hurt us?”

Nanami’s blood ran cold. “Us?”

To his credit, he didn’t flinch or cry out in alarm as two arms wrapped around his waist and a broad chest pressed against his back. A purring voice in his ear asked, “Oh, mister vampire hunter, please show us mercy.”

Getou Suguru, the second strongest vampire. And Gojou’s beloved. 

It was a trap, Nanami realized too late. The vampires he slayed before were just underlings, meant to die and deplete his supplies until he was all but defenseless. But why plan anything at all?

Alone or together, Gojou and Getou would be strong enough to kill him without lifting a finger. Getou was said to have an army of demons at his disposal, in addition to whatever poor humans he turned into thralls. And Gojou… he could kill with the barest effort.

“You should know…” Nanami said, keeping his voice even as much as possible, “...my guild’s higher-ups refuse to divulge their most valuable knowledge to those below them; I don’t know anything about their future plans. And another hunter will eventually rise up to take my place. You will gain no advantage in my death tonight.”

“Death?” Gojou asked, tilting his head to the side. He suddenly appeared right in front of Nanami, taking hold of his stake and crushing it to splinters, “Who ever said anything about death?”

Then they wanted to turn him. What a useless idea, they should know that most vampire hunters regularly consumed a potion that would conflict with the influence of vampirism and cause one’s demise rather than transformation. It was a rather unpleasant drink, one of its main ingredients being a copious quantity of onions, but Nanami believed death was preferable to eternal servitude. 

The voice behind him asked, “You think we’d bother to establish a nest here, and watch you slaughter our kin, only to kill you now?”

So they were watching. 

Nanami finally did flinch as he felt lips ghosting over the side of his neck. He tried to free himself, but the arms around his waist held fast. And one of his hands was now trapped in Gojou’s clutches. 

“Silly Na-na-mi,” Gojou said, drawing out his name. The corners of his eyes creased as his smile widened, “What do you think we want to do to you, hm?”

“With you, would be more accurate.” Getou said. 

Too close, Nanami thought. They were both far too close. Not just because they were his greatest enemies -arguably humanity’s greatest enemies- but because their hands on his body felt hauntingly intimate. 

He’d had an occasional fling, most of them when he was younger, but Nanami hadn’t been intimate with another person in years. He never wanted to endanger potential partners, but also never felt the urge or any kind of spark. Nothing like the burning handprints he felt on his waist and now his chest. Gojou pressed his palm flat against Nanami’s chest and hummed in curiosity 

“I can feel how fast your heart is beating, are you that excited to see us?”

Getou added, “We’ve seen how hard you work. We see the way you care for your juniors. But when was the last time anyone has ever taken care of you, Nanami?”

A creeping fog was starting to enter his mind, making it hard to think. It was vampiric compulsion, that much he knew. But he surprised even himself when he said, “I dislike off-topic questions.”

For a stifling moment, no one spoke. 

Then Gojou threw his head back and laughed. Nanami felt the chest pressed against his back tremble with the effort to not join in. 

“Satoru,” Getou said, almost admonishing but with a grinning lilt to his voice. 

“Nanami!” Gojou said, his voice teetering toward a childish whine, “Does everything have to be work-related with you? What do you like to do for fun, huh?”

“I drink,” he said. Startled, he clapped his free hand over his mouth.

Gojou Satoru’s compulsion was that strong, even with all his training?

Nanami supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. 

Getou’s soft, mellow, sugary voice filled his head, “Is that so? We love to drink, too. Maybe you’d like to join us? You must be thirsty after such hard work.”

Against Nanami’s will, his shoulders started to relax as his hand fell away from his mouth. This was part of what made the two lords so dangerous; their hypnotic sway was beyond that of any other vampire. Gojou had his eyes that pulled the truth out of his victims and Getou’s gentle voice could sway anyone to do his bidding. 

Being in both their presence for this long… Nanami had no idea what he might say or do. If he still had his stake, he would’ve contemplated using it on himself to escape whatever dreadful fate awaited him. 

Gojou laughed softly, lowering himself until his feet touched the ground. Even then, he was still so tall that Nanami had to crane his head back to keep track of those long, sharp fangs. His head fell back against a shoulder, as if Getou was just waiting for it. 

Gojou smirked and said, “Don’t be so worried, Nanami. Here, why don’t we just show you what we're planning.”

Nanami braced himself, fully prepared to lose his jugular and return from whence he came. But Gojou reached over his shoulder, pulling Getou closer. Though Getou kept one hand on Nanami’s waist and Gojou did the same, it might’ve been possible for him to break free and run. However far he got, he could at least die knowing he tried.

But how could he leave? How could he ever look away when Gojou cradled Getou’s pale face with more tenderness than had ever graced Nanami in his life? 

He watched, starstruck, as the two vampire lords shared a kiss. Getou tilted his head back, those violet eyes fluttering shut. That intense blue light dimmed as even Gojou’s own eyes fluttered and closed into half-moons. Vampires did not need to breathe, but one of them let out the softest moan. 

Nanami saw a flash of white and watched as Gojou’s fang sliced Getou’s lower lip open. A thick trail of blackened blood snaked its way down his chin. Vampires, being undead things, needed the blood and lifeforce of others to sustain themselves. Nanami always thought of it as a sad existence. But here and now, he couldn’t deny how enticing it all looked. 

Another flash of white. Getou bit Gojou’s lip hard enough to draw blood. 

It was the sway of their compulsion that compelled him to stay and watch, surely. And not the sound of Getou moaning as Gojou lapped up his blood and made a mess between their lips. 

Nanami shuddered. He felt his whole body start to heat up despite the chill in the air. He suddenly wished he was free of his jacket and tie. 

The two vampires parted. The sight of a thin trail of viscous blood connecting their lips made Nanami swallow. His throat was suddenly very dry. He was so parched, so thirsty. 

A hand took his chin and forced him to look Getou Suguru in the eye. Those half-lidded violet irises and plump, parted lips took whatever embers of resistance he still held and blew them away. 

“Come here, hunter.”

Nanami felt his whole body flood with an aching, hungry heat, his head going fuzzy as the vampire lord kissed him. He felt the glide of those fangs but no bite. He parted his lips as a faint gasp escaped him, Getou taking that as an invitation to slip his tongue past Nanami’s teeth and force him to taste vampire blood for the first time in his life. 

It was cloying and heavy on his tongue. And so very sweet. 

It felt like pure bliss. Nanami swayed where he stood, supported by both of the arms cradling him close. Seemingly from far away, he heard Gojou chuckle and say, “My turn.”

And he was met with another set of lips, and another taste of vampire blood. Despite how much it felt like he was burning up, Nanami also felt as though he were sinking into some dark lake. His thoughts and concerns drained out of him as he was unable to imagine the sight of the sky nor the bottom of the depths. He simply was, floating yet still somehow standing. Blissed out yet still hoping for more. 

He reached out to steady himself and unknowingly leaned against Gojou’s side. 

Getou spoke, voice low and sweet, “Poor thing, must be awfully tired to fall so fast. Why don’t you take the rest of the night off and come home with us, Nanami?”

“Yes, come home with us. We’ll let you stay for as long as you like. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Nanami opened his eyes. When did they close? Did it even concern him anymore that he’d let his guard down so easily?

No, not really. At that moment, he couldn’t imagine a life without this taste on his tongue, this heat curling low in his belly. He never wanted this moment to end. 

Only one word escaped his lips.

“Please.”