If youre still in that mohyo mood can I request a smut fic but vampire themed (stay with me here)
Like imagine vamp!Jihyo becoming human!mom's roommate and like trying to seduce her for the blood only to fail cuz mom's too oblivious for her own good and sooo sweet she cant just leave her alone so it all culminates into Jihyo just jumping momo or smth like that
If not totally cool, thanks for everything you write!!
tw’s// non idol au, vampire!jihyo x human!momo, fluff, slightly suggestive, mentions of blood(?), that’s pretty much it i want to make this silly and sweet.//
Find a human. Get a room. Feed. Leave.
Jihyo had done it a hundred times across a hundred years — slipped into someone's life like a shadow, taken what she needed, and disappeared before they could ask questions. She was good at this. She was exceptional at this. She had seduced counts, charmed heiresses, reduced stoic generals to blithering idiots with a single look from beneath her lashes.
She was not prepared for Hirai Momo.
The roommate listing had been straightforward. One room, one bathroom, one kitchen, looking for someone clean and quiet. Jihyo had glamoured the landlord, moved in on a Tuesday, and introduced herself to her new roommate with her most devastating smile — the slow one, the one that showed just the barest hint of fang, the one that made mortals feel like they were drowning and didn't mind at all.
Momo had looked at her, eyes wide and sparkling.
"Oh my GOD," she'd breathed. "You're so pretty."
And then she'd handed Jihyo a plate of rice cakes.
"I made too many. Do you like tteok? I can make more. I make them when I'm nervous about new people but now I'm not nervous anymore you have a really nice face."
Jihyo had stood there, rice cake in hand, smile frozen on her face, and thought: What.
The direct approach had simply been... interrupted. She would try atmosphere. Ambiance. She lit candles in the living room — deep red, naturally — and waited for Momo to come home from dance practice, planning to be draped elegantly on the couch, looking ethereal and irresistible.
Momo came home, saw the candles, gasped like she'd witnessed a miracle, and said, "Are you watching a movie?! I wanna join..I'll get the snacks!"
They watched three episodes of a cooking competition show.
Momo cried when someone's soufflé fell.
Jihyo... did not leave at a reasonable hour.
She tried the window next.
Classic. Foolproof. She'd appear at the glass in the witching hour, dark and otherworldly against the night sky, and Momo would invite her in —you always had to be invited, that much was true— in a daze, neck already bared
Momo opened the window and said, "Jihyo-ya, it's 3am, why didn't you use the front door, do you not have your key?"
"Come in, you must be cold, I'll make tea."
Jihyo sat on the kitchen counter at 3am drinking barley tea with a human who was wearing pajamas with little bows on them and thought about all the dignified centuries she had lived and whether any of them counted anymore.
The thing was —and Jihyo would only ever admit this to herself, deep in the privacy of her own skull— Momo was a problem for reasons that had nothing to do with blood.
It was the way she laughed, too loud and a little unhinged, tipping forward to grab Jihyo's arm when something was funny like she might fall over otherwise.
It was the dancing. Momo danced in the kitchen while making eggs. She danced in the hallway. Once, Jihyo had caught her slow-dancing with the mop and had stood in the doorway for a full minute before retreating to her room to sit in the dark and contemplate her choices.
It was the fact that Momo noticed things. Small things. That Jihyo never seemed tired. That she didn't eat much. That she was always oddly warm when winter made the apartment cold. Momo never pressed, just squinted sometimes, head tilted like a very beautiful confused puppy, then visibly decided it wasn't her business and offered snacks instead.
Nobody had ever responded to Jihyo's otherness with snacks before.
One month became two. Two became three. Jihyo kept telling herself she would feed and leave. She kept not leaving.
She told herself it was just that Momo was an interesting case study in human obliviousness.
She told herself that a lot.
She was telling herself that, in fact, when Momo padded into the living room one evening, freshly showered, hair damp, wearing a tank top, and folded herself onto the couch next to Jihyo with the total unselfconsciousness of someone who had simply decided they were comfortable around you —close enough that Jihyo could feel the warmth radiating off her skin, could smell—
"I'm going to bed," she said, voice approximately three tones higher than usual.
Momo blinked up at her. "It's seven pm."
She made it three days of strategic avoidance before Momo knocked on her door holding two cups of tea and wearing an expression of such genuine, uncomplicated concern that something in Jihyo's chest did something it had not done in a very long time.
"Did I do something?" Momo asked. Simple. Direct. No dramatics.
"Are you sure? Because you've been kind of—" she wiggled her hand "—distant. And I know we're just roommates but I thought we were like. Friends? Are we friends? I think we're friends."
"I think we're friends," Momo repeated, more firmly, as if she'd made a decision and was standing by it.
Look..Jihyo would not describe what happened next as losing control. She was a composed, centuries-old creature of the night and she had excellent self-possession. What happened was simply that she took the tea out of Momo's hands, set it aside carefully, took Momo's very pretty face in both hands, and kissed her.
Momo made a small surprised sound.
Then kissed back, enthusiastically, with both hands fisting in Jihyo's shirt, which Jihyo had not anticipated and which absolutely did not make her feel like she was the one being swept off her feet, except for how it completely did.
When they finally broke apart, Momo looked at her, flushed and bright-eyed, and said:
"Okay so I have some questions."
"I have answers," Jihyo said, which was the most honest thing she'd said in months.
"Are you—" Momo squinted, the way she sometimes did, the way that meant she'd been noticing things and finally decided to press. "Are you a vampire."
"Yes," Jihyo said. "Yes, I am."
Momo nodded slowly, processing.
"Okay," she said. "Cool. Do you want to bite me or is that weird now that we just kissed, like is that separate or—"
Jihyo kissed her again, mostly to make her stop talking, and also because she'd wanted to for approximately two and a half months and she was done being dignified about it.
Momo melted into it immediately, which was unfair, which was completely and utterly catastrophic for Jihyo's continued sense of self, which she was deciding right now was fine.
The plan had been simple: find a human, feed, leave.
( Later, Momo would tell her friends she'd known since week two. "She appeared outside my window at 3am," she'd say. "That's a vampire thing, right? Also she never eats breakfast."
"Why didn't you say anything?" they'd ask.
Momo would shrug. "I didn't want to make it weird. Also she was really nice to watch cooking shows with." )
