Satoru Gojo

Feeding off of him had become a normal thing now. Gojo wasn’t really sure what to call it anymore. Not just what you two were, but how this entire arrangement had taken shape in the first place. You weren’t his pet or his roommate. You weren’t even his lover, though sometimes the way your cheek pressed into his chest during sleep made it feel like you were.

It all started when he found you that one night, shivering and gaunt behind a convenience store, feeding off a dead rat like it was your last option. The feeling that overcame him was something he never felt before. Maybe it was because he was used to finer things and the sight of you settling for a dead rodent rubbed him the wrong way or maybe it was because he couldn't fathom how the system let a person down so much that this was just how a normal dinner looked.

In any case, he didn't immediately know you were a vampire. Helping you came easy to him but the truth did come out eventually. He wasn't scared of it, though. He'd already tried so hard to find you something appetizing so when you revealed it, he was actually relieved.

He spent enough on high-end meals at fancy restaurants just for you not to eat them. If all you wanted to do was suck his blood? Light work. Plenty to go around and if it's helping you in any way then he was completely fine with it.

Now, he was your blood bag. Willingly. There was always some casual pretense. Maybe a movie night, a quiet cuddle on the couch, those late evening naps where your cheek found its place against his shoulder. And every time you got like that - soft and nuzzly, the telltale sting of hunger swimming behind your tired eyes - you’d start to get nip at his collarbone, run your teeth along his pulse like your body knew instinctively how close he always kept you.

"You get bitey when you’re hungry, don’t you?" He’d chuckle, always so fond, lifting his chin with a grin. "Go ahead. You’re cute like this." He'd tilt his head, offering his neck with that grin on his face. So full of life.

You stopped starving yourself in fear of hurting him because he reassured you it was okay, and you believed him. His blood was rich, and warm, and steady. You never took much. Just enough to soothe the gnawing ache in your stomach and the pressure in your chest. You didn’t want to hurt him and he never said you were. He always said it was fine so the guilt slowly ebbed away.

You noticed though, recently when his shift would come to an end, the sound of his steps approaching the front door changed. It was slow drag now and the way he leaned against the doorframe for a second too long when walking into a room also caught your attention. There were stifled coughs, nosebleeds he passed off as allergies, and the faint, almost imperceptible tremor in his hand when he poured his coffee each morning.

He still smiled and still laughed as he wore that ridiculous confidence like a second skin so it never worried you. He'd reassure you the second you hesitated in the slightest. But underneath it all, Gojo was running on fumes.

---

Tonight, you're cuddling on the couch again, same as always. Your body curled against his like muscle memory. You pressed your face into his chest, hands gripping his shirt, eyes fluttering shut as his arm came around you loosely.

It was automatic. His warmth always got you all bitey. Your teeth brushed his shoulder, you nipped gently at the skin above his heart, the growl in your throat was soft, not threatening - just needy. He chuckled, but this time it came out thinner, breathier. His fingers carded gently through your hair shaking in the slightest.

"You’re so spoiled," he murmured. "What am I gonna do with you?"

Then he rolled over, offering his arm like always. But that's when you saw it. The exhaustion in his eyes, the pallor in his skin, the tremble in his wrist, the fact that his arm - the one he’d offered to you countless times - was marred with faint bite marks. Fresh ones, healing ones, some overlapping like you’d gone back to the same spot over and over.

He noticed your hesitation immediately. "C'mon now," he said, like nothing was wrong. Like you hadn’t just realized how badly he was fraying. "What, you tired of me already?" He said with that soft grin and that tilt of the head. That reckless affection.