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starvine · 2 years

Text

☾ ⋆* kiss it better

pairing: neteyam sully x fem!omaticaya reader

genre: fluff, angst

synopsis: all you wanted to do was serve your people. however, when you get injured, your mission is cut short. neteyam insists upon patching you up and decides to explain his concerns for your well-being and future together.

warnings: battle stuff, guns, blood, battle injuries, medical jargon, stitches, minor swearing (?), allusions to mating/sex ig, aged-up neteyam

word count: 7.9k

notes: IT’S HERE! i’m very excited to have started writing again, and although i’m very casual about when i write, i hope to be somewhat consistent lol. enjoy this for now, i have more planned for the future! i hope you all enjoy, pls reblog/comment/etc if you feel so inclined <33

The air was tense today, thick with disciplined focus as you keep your ears alert for any incoming airships. Reeking of smoke and burning metal, a scent that is foreign and unpleasant to your nose, you remain aware of everything and anything. Gray clouds billowing and a pungent smell that cling to the back of your throat like a hand with a vice grip—nothing was natural.

Tilting your forehead forward, you hope your visor, decorated with teeth and interwoven pieces, will shield your eyes from the wind. You hold your bow tightly, the wood smooth against your fingers as you use your other hand to guide your ikran swiftly through the air.

“Calm, calm,” you soothe her, tapping your fingers along her strong neck.

You’re anxious today. Not because of the imminent arrival of the Sky People, their ships ready to fire metal bullets at you at any second; you’ve dealt with that many times before. No, the reason you’re nervous is because of Neteyam.

Today is Neteyam’s first day participating in the raid—well, his first raid on the ground with his father’s permission—rather than being a part of the aerial surveillance team. You tried to insist that you should accompany him, but, due to his wishes, you remained in the air beside his mother.

“Do you see anything yet?” Neytiri’s voice asks over the intercom.

Bringing your fingers to your throat to press the responding button, you reply, “Nothing yet.”

“I’m going to fly down to help gather some of the gear. You stay here,” she orders, raising her bow to signal that she and her ikran were descending.

“Let us know if you spot any bogeys. We’ve got some heavy-duty gear and need as much time as possible,” Jake informs you over the intercom.

“Roger that, sir,” you say, steering your ikran closer to where the enemy would most likely be approaching.

Ears twitching back and forth, you attempt to pick up the whir of an aircraft amongst the orders commanded, the creaks and minor explosions occurring from the Meg-Lev train your people have intercepted, and the wind blowing past you. You hope that maybe you could track a scent, sniffing the air a couple of times to no avail. It’s all smoke and metal. The skies were calm, except for your ikran’s screeching, however, they couldn’t be for long. There was no way those demons would allow your people to escape that easily.

“Hey,” Neteyam breathes over the intercom, a slight huff of your name. You could hear the smile on his face. “How’re things looking up there?”

“What happened to using my code name?” you question, peering over your ikran in an attempt to find him along the ground. “I’ll tell you if I see anything. I know how to do my job, you know.”

“Just double checking,”

You scoff, guiding your ikran to the right. “Maybe you should focus on gathering all of the gear instead,”

“Oh, really? Maybe you should-”

Suddenly, your ears flex forward, focused on the faint whirring of something mechanical and man-made; something that was not naturally occurring within your world.

“Airships spotted! Everyone, move!” you shout over the intercom. You yelp out into the open air, pumping your bow in tandem with the three shouts you release to alert your fellow brothers and sisters in battle.

Just as people begin clambering for their ikrans and direhorses, the two Scorpions start firing. The relentless pop of military guns fills your ears, causing your tail to swish frantically and your ears to perk forward.

Using a high pitch, you signal for your ikran to dive, swooping up and under the two fighter pilots.

“Do not engage! I repeat, do not engage! I want minimal casualties today,” Jake commands over the intercom, the background full of shouts and grunts.

“Jake, I’ve got to take out these two airships. They’re already taking down ikrans,” you spoke, peering up at the airships as you stealthily soar below.

Just then, Neteyam responds.

“No! Listen to my father, do not engage. I can lead the people to safety,”

“There won’t be any people to lead if I don’t take these airships down.”

Neteyam groans your name in warning, the sound of shouts heard from all around. “Would you listen for once?”

Jake barks your name, frustrated and frantic. “Get out of there! Get back to the High Camp!” he orders. You begin mapping out the plan of your attack. “That is a direct order!”

“I’m sorry, Jake,” you respond, ignoring all that comes after.

Your ikran shoots straight up into the air, coming close to the tail-end of the Scorpion gunship. You arch over the top of the gunship, upside down and looping over to the front side. The sun high in the sky and its beams creating a glare on the glass makes it difficult for you to spot the pilot. Upon finding his location, you draw the string of your bow taught, ready to fire.

“Incoming! Enemy on-”

You shriek upon release. The arrow flies straight through the glass, nailing your target right in the chest.

The gunship begins to tilt forward, preparing for its decline. As a hunter and warrior, it was your duty to pay respects to the creatures you killed in order to sustain the way of life. Kneeling over them, declaring your thanks, and wishing for their safe return to rest amongst the Great Mother was a sacred practice. However, as the gunship crashed and blew up in flames, hot and angry, you felt no thanks or remorse. They did not deserve to rest peacefully, and they didn’t even deserve to die on the Great Mother’s sacred soil. Their spirits deserved to walk alone, isolated and cold from the warm glow of the afterlife.

“You skxawng! What the hell are you doing?” Neteyam screams.

Looking around, you see the green back of his ikran, its rider perched on top with no visible concerns except for the fury etched on his face.

“I got this! It’s just one more,” you insist, positioning an arrow on your bow, eyeing the last gunship.

“May the Great Mother help you when I knock-” and with that, he’s easily ignored.

The wind whips past you, high and soft, almost like a whisper from Eywa that she too felt the tensions of battle. You would do anything to soothe her pain. She could not endure the suffering of this war much longer.

Tightening your grip on your ikran, her blues providing a stark contrast to the grayness of the military equipment, you attack from the rear yet again. Guns firing, you duck, placing yourself as flat as you can get against her back. However, once you approach the opening of the ship, where all of the massive guns were placed, you sit up, firing quickly.

The scream and weak grunt you heard confirms that it was a successful hit. Loading your bow with another arrow, you soar underneath the aircraft, looping around until you have the high ground. Securing your aim, your fingers release the string until the arrow flies straight into one of the Scorpion's propellers. A small explosion soon turned into a large one, the ship dipping to its left and falling from its dominant space in the sky to the dirt.

However, so were you.

You must’ve underestimated how close you were to the ship, your eagerness to protect your people and the Great Mother clouded your judgment.

The sound and burst of light, as well as the force, must’ve spooked your companion as she, too, seemed to have lost her place in the sky. She tumbles towards the ground, shrieks and roars released into the open air. Jaw clenched, you tried to convince her to gain control to no avail.

“Come on!” you shout, knuckles turning a pale blue with the tight grip you had.

As you neared the ground, panic began to set in. Your ears lay flat against your head in an attempt to not become overwhelmed by the wind, you tried to think quickly.

You could stay with your ikran, but you would both get injured; you could also disconnect from her and leap from the group, in hopes of only injuring yourself.

Deciding on the latter, you had one plea for the Great Mother:

“Please don’t let Neteyam kill me.”

Disconnecting your kuru, you leap the rest of the way to the ground, the shock of the force of your fall causing you to fall instead of landing perfectly on your feet. The ship crashes a couple of yards in front of you, the force of the blast propelling you forward.

Rolling and skidding along the dirt, pieces of gravel and discarded glass and metal tear at your skin. Red begins to bubble up along the surface, the violent opposite of your blue skin.

Tumbling down a hill, you lose your grip on your bow, the wood being left behind in your trail. The burning sensation of your flesh being scraped away keeps you alert, blindly clutching at anything to break your fall.

Eventually, you slow to a stop, landing on your stomach with a mouthful of dirt. Spitting and coughing up the soil, you take a minute to catch your breath. With a slight raise of your head, you look at the ship as the flames crackle and cause a film of sweat to break out on your skin. That hunk of metal was truly ugly against the backdrop of the forest.

You begin to slowly sit up, a sharp pain coming from your side. A cut, not deep enough to need stitches, slowly oozes blood down your left rib, crimson staining the skin. It looks swollen, screaming to be disinfected immediately. Reaching behind you to check for any more severe wounds, you arch away from your nimble fingers just upon a light graze. The heat from the explosion must’ve irritated the skin, causing soreness and slight bubbling in some places.

Minor scrapes along your knees and elbows from what you could see and feel, makes you thank Eywa for her protection and the benign wounds. Stumbling onto your feet, you catch sight of something unnatural.

A small piece of metal protrudes from the side of your thigh, embedded into the flesh. Staring at the shrapnel, you’re reminded that your world doesn’t just belong to you anymore. Even if the Sky People were to disappear and return back to their planet, the scientists would remain here. Their clunky gear and massive structures would continue to reside amongst the nature of Pandora.

Something about that notion makes your heart sink.

You lightly touch the silvery metal, trying to gauge how deep the foreign object must be. It felt stiff and unwilling to relent to your touch, confirming that it was not something you could brush off. Taking a step forward, a broad, aching pain festers throughout your leg. It hurt less if you put less pressure on the limb, however, that would be hard to do on your journey back to the High Camp.

Picking up your bow from the ground, arrows broken and scattered around, you slowly mount your ikran, muttering expletives to yourself at the pain that dwelled throughout your entire body.

Neteyam was surely going to kill you.

Upon your arrival, after an arduous flight back home, you slowly slid off your companion onto the uneven rock. Blood oozed out from around the metal, the object having dug deeper into the surface the more you moved. With one hand clutching your rib and another trying to steady the object, you hoped to stumble into a healing area before you were noticed by a Sully.

Turns out, you’re not as stealthy as you thought.

“She’s back! She’s back!” a high-pitched cheer sounded, a small girl bouncing towards you. Tuk’s big grin slowly faded into a look of concern and worry as she sized up your injuries. “Mom! Kiri! She’s hurt!”

The younger girl prances over to you, lifting your arms and examining your body from front to back. You feel the small girl brush against your tail, which was agitatedly flicking back and forth.

With a sigh of your name, you see Tuk’s mother and elder sister approach you, war paint still decorating Neytiri’s face in vibrant greens and yellows. She gasps upon spotting the dirt, blood, and bruising that has blossomed across your skin, tucking a stray hair behind your ear as her eyes fill with worry.

“We must get her to grandmother,” Kiri announces to her mother, clutching your upper arm as softly as she could without hurting you.

“There’s no need. I can do it myself,” you try to assure her, taking a fumbling limp forward.

“There is a piece of metal sticking out of your leg.”

You glance down, almost as if you hadn’t noticed it at all before. It was a futile attempt, especially as you used your fingers to brace the object, preventing it from moving too much. “There is?”

“Damn, bro!” Lo’ak exclaims, waltzing up beside you and trying his best to not laugh at your given failure. “Looks like someone got their ass handed to them by some Sky People,”

Hissing at him, you weakly push at his chest to show him that you weren’t interested in his jokes right now.

“Lo’ak!” his mother scolds, hitting him upside the head.

“What?! What I’d do?!”

Then, the two people you desperately wanted to avoid came into view: Neteyam and his father. Jake had a stern, militant look on his face—a facade that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. Neteyam’s face was set into a deep frown, a look that was a delicate cross between his mother’s and father’s disappointed faces.

“Well, would you look at the time? Looks like I better start tending to-” you attempt to walk away, only to be kept in place by Neytiri’s firm hand on your shoulder. It’s not like you’d be able to escape them as quickly or swiftly as you would typically be able to. You–apparently–had a piece of metal sticking out of your leg.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Jake scolds still dressed head to toe in his fusion of Omaticaya and Sky military gear. “Disobeying direct orders? That isn’t something I expected from you.”

Casting your eyes downwards, you hope your flat ears and limp tail would get you out of this scolding quicker than it would’ve if he was scolding Neteyam or Lo’ak. Typically, avoiding his gaze would show that you felt regret—which, in this case, you didn’t really—and he’d let you move on. However, it’s hard to keep your eyes fixed on the ground when someone gets into your line of view.

Neteyam crouches down, face coming into view as if he’s trying to catch your fake performance. Instead, he places two hands, worn and calloused from all of the years of fighting and defending his people, onto your cheeks. He tilts your face upwards so he can view you from his natural height, allowing him to view each scrape and bruise in proper lighting. His lips twitch into a grimace, thumbs grazing over a small cut that must be on your cheek because, although there’s a faint sting, there’s no leaking blood.

Now, everyone knew about you and Neteyam. It’s not like it was kept a secret. Wherever you went, he followed; whatever he was doing, you were right there beside him. In the years to come, you would become his mate and that was an unspoken decision between you and him. Well, there was also an unspoken rule between Neteyam and the rest of the boys his age to not even glance at you, or else he’d have their tails. However, no matter how much people smiled softly whenever you’d exchange fond glances or spare looks when you two ran off alone, it wasn’t like you publicly displayed much physical affection. Nonetheless in front of his parents.

He unloops your visor from behind your ears, handing it to his brother without his gaze leaving your face. As soon as his hands leave you, they return just as quickly. His fingers smooth over your face, confirming that you’re breathing and here in front of him—something he’s very grateful for. Your stupidity—not so much.

“You’re such a skxawng,” he chides, tilting your face towards his.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. It’s not like I’m the one who took down—not one—but two whole- ow!” you yelp, stumbling forward towards the young man.

Tuk looks at you guiltily, one finger outstretched as if she was prodding at something.

Kiri steps forward, pushing Tuktirey out of the way in order to re-examine your back.

“We should take her to grandmother,” she insists, “now.”

You roll your eyes, trying to continue with your act of not being nearly as injured as you appear, but the longer you stand, the more it becomes not true. As the adrenaline wears off, the soreness and incessant throbbing grow throughout your muscles and bones. Your rib and leg are still oozing blood, warm and tacky against your skin. Neteyam loops an arm around you, careful to avoid the blisters and welts that decorate various places on your back.

His free hand reaches for the hand that hangs limply over his shoulder, intertwining your fingers and giving them a light squeeze. “It’ll all be okay,”

“Yeah, I know. Just ‘cause I’m walking a bit funny doesn’t mean I’m dying,”

You could say that then, but you sure as hell can’t say that now.

If there was one thing about Mo’at, it was that she couldn’t care less if her remedies stung like a bitch as long as they cured you thoroughly. So now, as she smears a paste along your back—the sensation as bitter and frigid as the Northernmost part of any mountain—that bites at your skin, you kind of wish you were dead. Or at least knocked out.

This isn’t even the worst of it.

Once the stinging fades more into a relaxing cool, Mo’at instructs you to lean backward so she can assess your torso. The older woman crouches next to you, hands hovering over the wound as if Eywa was sending her a direct message on the best way to heal you. Neteyam sits on the other side of you, clutching your hand with a grip that seems more like it’s to reassure him than you, his other hand brushing your hair away from your face.

Neytiri stays close to her mother, observing or advising what she believes to be the next course of action—just as a tsakarem should do. Kiri stays by your feet, grinding and mashing up various plants and syrups that could be used to aid with disinfecting your wounds. Lo’ak and his father stay near the door, ready to leave if someone else should need assistance with anything to do with the war effort. However, as everyone stays well within their place, performing their necessary task, Tuk couldn’t seem to sit still.

“Is she going to need stitches?” Tuk asks, peering over her eldest brother.

Neteyam removes his hand from your hair, slightly readjusting the younger’s weight so she doesn’t put too much pressure on him, in turn, putting pressure on you.

The Tsahìk doesn’t look up from your wound, eyes brightening as if Eywa had finally delivered her guidance to the woman. “No, she will just need to rest. I would advise very minimal movement for at least seven days,” the woman says, being handed a bowl of yellowish sap.

“Seven days? But I need to be out there, it’s my duty to fight,” you plead, growing restless and inching upwards.

Neteyam pushes you back down, delicate but firm fingers pressing against your sternum. “Down,” he murmurs.

“It is not my fault you did not listen to orders,” the older woman retorts, using a brush-like leaf to observe the consistency of the paste before lowering it toward your injury.

“Yeah, well it’s not my fault that I just happened to save- oh, Great Mother! Holy sh-” you yelp upon Mo’at contact.

Neteyam presses a hand over your mouth, sending you a stern glare. “Not in front of the Tsahìk,” he hushes, palm warm against your lips.

You groan against his hand, face twisting and back arching in pain. Unlike the gel thinly spread across your back, there was no relief from this paste. Mo’at continued to slather it all across your skin, insisting that the more you move, the more it will hurt. You squeeze Neteyam’s hand, feeling the bones shift with how strong your grip is. If you’re hurting him, you can’t tell. The look of pain on his face seems to be linked to his feelings about your injuries, your pain. Always the doting lover.

Once Mo’at wraps the injury, using both Na’vi and human medical wraps, she places a palm over the injury, thanking the Great Mother. Then, she looks at your leg.

Your leg was held down by Kiri throughout the excursion, as she didn’t want the shrapnel to lodge itself deeper into the skin and muscle. At the base of your leg, a piece of twine is firmly wrapped around the skin to lightly restrict blood flow. The skin was not pinched, nor did you lose feeling in your leg as you would’ve if the twine was used as a makeshift tourniquet, however, your thigh still resisted against the band.

You haven’t cried yet, however, just with her eyes boring into your leg you feel as if you’re about to sob.

“Please don’t take it out. I don’t- I don’t want to have to do this anymore,” you begin to blubber, looking at Neteyam as you try to sit up.

“Shh, shh,” he placates, stroking your cheek. “It’s okay. I’m here, I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I’ve been hurting this whole time,” you groan, “what the hell have you been-”

Then, the last two people you want to see walk into the room: Norm and Max.

“I grabbed them as soon as I heard,” says Spider, following close behind.

“No. No, no, no. Get the hell away from me,” you say, instantly shooting up and trying your best to scoot away, even as Kiri still holds down your leg.

Neteyam says your name so sweetly, so full of fondness that a chill is sent up your spine—a chill that isn’t caused by the cooling medicine or a shock of pain. “He’s here to help.”

“I don’t want him here,” you spit, speaking Na’vi to the boy sitting beside you.

“We have no choice,” he reasons, his voice dropping an octave. “They will be much quicker with their equipment than with ours. I promise that my grandmother will heal and treat you, but we need their help to make sure that there’s no extra damage that is beyond what the eye can see.”

You shake your head, refusing to listen to him and averting your gaze.

His lithe fingers reach for your chin, turning you back towards him. There he goes again; always making you feel like the blushing fool, especially in front of his family.

“I will not let them hurt you.”

What a fucking liar.

Taking a team of three women plus Norm to hold your leg down, Max begins to lower his tweezers toward the piece of metal. With the first tug, you begin screaming. The pressure and the resistance between Max’s tweezers and the artificial shard against your tender skin and muscle caused your free leg to kick, hands tightening at your sides and clinging onto Neteyam. The fact that your whole body was tense, each muscle spasming, probably didn’t help what was already a difficult procedure.

“Damn, she’s strong,” Norm comments, adding more pressure in an attempt to hold your leg down. “Spider, help us out.”

You continue to sob, reaching for Neteyam to claw at his shoulder. If you’re hurting him or breaking skin, he doesn’t tell you. Instead, he cradles you as you cry against his leg. Ripping your hand from his, you squeeze his leg, nose pressed against his thigh to hide your face. There’s no guarantee that half of the clan hasn’t heard you by now, nor that a few people have poked their heads in to see who the hell was screaming so damn loud. You were well known. There’s no way anybody wouldn’t recognize that it was you who was being surgically tortured. However, if you could save some dignity by hiding yourself against Neteyam, you would do just that.

“I’m never letting them near my body again,” you weep, gripping tight to the blue skin beneath you.

Neteyam rakes his fingers through your hair, hands petting any inch of skin that has brought you comfort over the years. He knows you like the back of his hands. Playing with your hair puts you to sleep, rubbing his thumb across your cheek makes you keen, following the slope of your nose makes you smile, and touching your ear makes you quiet. Using this knowledge, Neteyam’s hands roam to any expanse of skin that he can reach. He must look mad, with busy fingers and frantic eyes, but he can’t help himself. His chest hurts when he sees you like this, and if he needs to kill someone to make you feel better, he’d gladly do that.

“It’s almost out. We’re almost done,” he assures you in a soft tone, getting close to your ear.

Your ears, which have been laying flat and folding over periodically finally perk up and away from your skull—a sense of relief. It’s quick-lived before they fall back against your hair, but he sees it as a small win.

“Can you dress it for me?” you plea, voice breaking painfully.

Who is he to deny you?

“All done!” Max cheers, placing the flat piece of shrapnel into an emesis basin.

The clang of the metal against metal causes you to abruptly sit up. Neteyam’s hand is on your shoulder, but for the first time, it’s not to push you back down. He lets you take your time viewing the sizable gash in your leg, an injury that without a doubt needs extra aid. You whimper at the sight, not necessarily at the pain, but because you knew what this means: you would be under strict supervision at the battle scene. You couldn’t be trusted to be alone, especially as you were a great friend of the Sully’s and Neteyam’s prospective mate.

Falling back into Neteyam, the cries you let out are softer but still cause your body to shake. Neteyam rubs his cheek against yours when you hide your face in his neck, tears causing the blue skin to become slick and tacky. He readjusts your top which has moved around during all of your painful squirming, protecting your modesty. The beads land softly against your shoulder, arms holding you snuggly against him. He tucks your hair behind your ear, giving him a view of the ear that is decorated with various pieces of Omaticaya jewelry. An orange bead, delicately dangling from your lobe, was a gift from him.

“It makes me feel wiser during battle,” you told him once before sending an arrow straight through the eye of a fish that swam around in the pond.

He touches it lightly, reminding you that everything is alright.

“No! She’s going to need stitches!” Tuk whimpers, a frown deeply set on her face. Even through your crying, Neteyam catches the faintest hint of a smile.

Mo’at begins to drip water over the wound, clearing away any blood that may have leaked down your leg despite the twine restricting your blood flow.

It’s silent besides Max, Norm, and Jake’s mumbling outside of the tent as Mo’at preps a needle and thread. Kiri, Neytiri, and Spider have since released your leg, observing you and the Tsahìk. Just as Mo’at blesses the needle and thread, Neteyam speaks up.

“I’ll do it.”

Mo’at looks at her grandson, her gaze strong but understanding. The white bone needle stays pinched between her two fingers, amber eyes unwavering.

“Neteyam, let your grandmother-“

“I said I’ll do it.” he hushes, lip curling in order to hide a scowl.

His mother looks at her own, a non-verbal communication occurring between their stares. Eventually, Neytiri acquiesces, standing up and taking a step away from you.

Mo’at hands him the needle, placing a worn but beautiful hand on your leg.

“Return here tomorrow so I can check on the wound,” she orders. You nod, eyes still teary before the older woman stands with her daughter, ready to move on to the other warriors who need their assistance.

Once his mother and grandmother leave, Neteyam grows restless.

“Everyone out, please.”

Kiri scoffs at him, still seated by your feet. “You can‘t be serious,”

“Out! Get out!” he hisses, fangs bared at his sister and the human boy beside her. “You have done nothing!”

“I wouldn’t call holding down her leg for nothing. I’ll have bruises for the next week,” Spider dismisses, standing up with Lo’ak, who is already headed towards the exit.

“Out!” he shouts one final time, his siblings leaving as his tail flicks back and forth with irritation.

It isn’t until they’re gone, that Neteyam leaves your right side, scrambling and pouncing over you in order to come in contact with your left leg.

The tent is silent as he begins his work. The process doesn’t hurt much, a gentle prick or pinch here and there; you’re not sure whether it’s because your nerves are shot and can’t detect pain anymore or because Neteyam is good at his work. It could be both. Before you know it, the wound is closed and a row of sutures stares back at you in a familiar Na’vi sewing pattern. The skin is even, nothing too uncomfortable, and although there’s bruising, it appears to be that everything will be okay.

You reach out to touch the stitches with a shaky hand, only to be slapped away. “Uh uh, don’t touch,” he tuts, eyes focused and mouth slightly ajar in concentration.

He grabs under your knee, bending it at the joint in order to prop it up so he can place a bandage over the sutures.

“To protect them,” he informs you, wrapping the gauze around your thigh.

He’s very quiet throughout, a reaction you were not expecting. Neteyam has always been logical, methodical; he never steps out of line or does something rash unless it’s for the means of protecting those he loves. Always quick to action, he’s usually the first to help and the first to reprimand someone (usually Lo’ak) for their stupidity. That would be the typical reaction. However, now he looked almost forlorn.

Once he’s done, he fully stands for the first time since you entered the tent. He begins to rummage through his grandmother’s remedies that sit in wooden jars and crystal vials, concoctions she’s mastered after years and years of being the Tsahìk. After selecting a small wooden bowl filled with clear oil, he grabs another bowl of water and a rag and sits down in front of you. Dabbing the rag in the bowl of water, he lifts the dripping cloth toward your face.

“What are you doing?”

He looks at you, eyes narrowing briefly before they return to their normal, large position.

“Your face is filthy.”

He gently holds your chin, tilting it up towards him so he can begin wiping your face. His hold is steady but his eyes look nerved, almost as if he has too much on his mind to bear. His breathing matches yours, and he dodges your gaze although his entire being crowds your line of sight. There’s no way for him to avoid you, really.

“What’s wrong?” you ask as he dips the rag and wrings out all of the water, approaching your face yet again.

“Nothing is wrong,” he replies curtly, his ears twitching quickly before returning to their previous state—a telltale sign that he’s lying.

“Oh, so you’re just going to pretend like I know nothing about you now?” you try to joke, smile falling when you notice how he doesn’t reciprocate your humor. “Talk to me,” you urge, grabbing his wrist so he can’t try to distract you or himself by caring for your wounds.

He sighs, looking away before he slowly looks back at you. Holding your gaze, eyes squinting and lips pursing slightly. Neteyam looks at you like you’re supposed to understand him–and you do–but it’s as if he’s expecting you to know what’s bothering him. However, the problem is that you don’t. Once he comes to that realization, he sighs, still looking into your eyes.

“I’m upset with you.”

And there it is. Your tail swishes uneasily, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Neteyam, but he can’t bring himself to quell his emotions for your sake. He almost lost you.

“Why are you upset with me?”

He shrugs, almost as if he’s embarrassed or too shy to explain his feelings. Being the eldest son and the next heir, Neteyam often felt as if he had to hide his own inhibitions or concerns in order to be a good son, a good brother, a good leader. When it was just the two of you, you would often have to do a little extra prying in order to get him to reveal what was truly occupying that pretty little head of his. Even once he admitted it, it was even harder to get him to elaborate.

“Just drop it. You should be healing,” he dismisses, trying to distract himself by wiping your face again.

Pushing his wrist away with your fingers, you take the cloth and throw it into the bowl of water. Holding his hands on your lap, his tail swishing timidly behind him, you make him look at you by following his gaze. “I can talk and heal. The two aren’t mutually exclusive,”

“I wish they were,” he mutters, a braid swinging in front of his face.

“Hey,” you tuck the strand behind his ear. He leans towards your touch, almost as if he craves it, no matter how much he wishes he didn’t. “This isn’t how this works. You need to talk to me.”

“You’ve already been in enough pain today. I don’t want to cause anymore,”

“Quit the bullshit. I’m better now. I’ll feel worse if you don’t tell me.”

“That’s not the way it works.”

“Um, yes, it is.”

“It’s not.”

“How would you know? I can already feel my leg hurting ten times more now that you won’t communicate with me.”

“You’re not in any more pain because of me,” he scoffs, trying to escape your grasp.

“Ow, my leg! My leg!” you feign a whimper. He cracks a small smile, your cheeks spreading as smoothly as the war paint that still dons his face.

Neteyam looks so beautiful when he smiles. It’s a special smile, reserved only for you; it drips of sticky honey, so sugary that sometimes you feel as if you could fall ill from its adoration. He’s soft as he looks at you, coy and all things delightful. The hands that once tried to flee your own, now reach for your wrists, petting the skin in a pattern that speaks a million languages at once. And yet, somehow, not one of those languages can truly resemble how much he loves you. He loves you a lot.

“Please,” you whisper, “tell me what’s wrong?”

He sighs, assenting to your pleas. With one final sweep over your face, he finally indulges you.

“I’m not happy that you took down those ships.”

“Well, duh,” you scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. “I know that, but I want to know why.”

“You weren’t careful.”

This causes a richer scoff to form at the back of your throat, a sound that makes his ears press against his braids. “I thought we agreed to take down the enemy at any and all costs?”

“I know, and we did—we did make that agreement. I just,” he groans, trying to find the right words. Neteyam never had the right words when it came to expressing himself. “I was scared.”

“Okay,” you reply softly, shuffling closer to him. “Why were you scared?”

“Why wouldn’t I be scared?” he answers, tone mimicking the same quiet tone you used. “You’re mine—my girl, and- and they almost took what’s mine away from me.”

“God, I just got so scared that something bad would happen to you. And when I saw you hurt, how badly you were in pain, and I couldn’t do anything about it I just…” his eyes are frantic, searching all across the hut for something—anything—to provide him an answer. His hands start to tremor in your hold. “I felt helpless and so stupid. I should’ve been tougher on you, or—I don’t know—had Lo’ak or even Kiri stay with you so you didn’t have to be alone. And it’s not that I don’t think you’re incapable or anything—” he excuses, causing you to smile lightly, “—but I don’t trust them. I don‘t trust them with you.”

Smile turning watery, you reach for his shoulder, soon deciding to hold his face instead. He leans into your palm yet again, seeking the warmth that can only emanate from your hands alone. It’s the only warmth that can rid him of any chill.

Neteyam kisses your palm, soon rolling your hand over in his, placing his lips on each knuckle as if it provides him comfort. And it does. It provides him more comfort than he could care to admit. Placing your head in the crook where his neck and shoulder meet, you place a kiss on his collarbone, lowering your lips to place another on his pec, right above his heart. The young man draws in a deep breath, holding you close to him, savoring each second, each touch. Skin against skin; heart against heart.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” you apologize, your soft lips grazing his blue skin. He loves the feeling. “I just wanted to protect our people.”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs against your forehead, a light kiss placed there. “I’m sorry for yelling.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t even yell,” you forgive, cheeks pillowing against his chest. When you lift yourself away from him, he tilts his head in confusion at your smirk. “Also, we both know Kiri would be awful on the battlefield.”

He chuckles, brushing his nose against yours. “True. She can’t even shoot an arrow in a straight line.”

“Exactly! I don’t know what you were thinking when you said that. Lo’ak? Sure, whatever. But Kiri?”

“I know, I know,” he agrees, voice growing softer as if his quietness will preserve this moment between you.

His eyes become velvet—smooth and warm—the longer he looks at you and it instantly makes you melt. His lips look saccharine, a buttery spread of a light smile decorating his face which is just the absolute cherry on top. If Eywa hadn’t taken you during battle, she sure as hell was going to take you now with how crazy Neteyam makes your heartbeat.

He tucks your hair behind your ear, his smile growing more and more with each expanse of skin he navigates. Dancing his fingertips over your jaw and across your cheekbones, he eventually cups your cheek and you just watch. If you breathe too hard, if you shift your weight, this moment could crumble. He’s looked at you like this many times before but it’s usually in the dark, under the bioluminescent blue and purple lights of the forest, where all you can see are the shadows of his face and the warmth of his tongue and the breeze of his breath. Now, you can see everything in pure, golden hues. The way his mouth relaxes, the way his eyes absorb all they can with each quick glance, the way the corner of his mouth tugs upwards unconsciously. You love it.

“May I kiss you?” he asks quietly, thumb swiping along a stripe on your cheek.

“Why do you ask now? You’ve done it many times before,” you wonder, eyes transfixed on the way his own mouth moves with each word he’s about to form.

He chuckles, a sweet, melodic sound, “Just wanted to make sure you’re still down even when the sun is out.”

This earns a loud laugh from you, a laugh that makes Neteyam’s heart squeeze and his lower stomach burn. He loves you. One day, he’ll say it.

Once your giggles have fizzled into a content sigh, you bite your lip lightly before you release it and it returns to its normal place. Neteyam follows the movement.

“I’m always down if it’s you.”

“Yeah?” he smiles, breathy and lips plush.

“Yeah.”

With that, he seals the deal. His kiss is soft, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dip to your mouth right before the initial contact. It makes you feel hot all over. He’s gentle—he always is at first—and he’s so, so kind. He pulls away briefly, returning not long after as if he needs to be connected to you or else he would suffer. In a way, he would.

Neteyam is sweet. He still tastes like the fruit you shared before the raid and also a little bit like blood—whether it’s from him or you, you don’t care; you’ll devour it desperately just like you want him to devour you. He traces that stripe on your cheek again, his new best friend, and follows it down the nape of your neck. His other hand trails up from the small of your back to the divot in between your shoulder blades. He uses his hand to pull you closer, seeking any contact from you that he can get.

Your hands are a barrier, shielding your chest from his, and in a way, it upsets you but also pleases you. Nobody knows what would happen if you could feel his chest pressed against yours at this moment—not even you know. Your hands glide across his chest, lighting scraping and molding against the fine muscle that hides under his smooth skin. When a lithe finger accidentally catches against a nipple, his mouth drops open pliantly, his tongue searching for yours.

“‘S scared they took my girl away from me,” he murmurs against your lips, his own following after yours after each word.

“Never,” you promise, kissing him firmly, one hand gripping his shoulder to ground yourself. All of this kissing was beginning to make you feel as if you could float away. “I’m yours. They could never take me or have me. You know that,”

“Mhm,” he hums, voice lilting towards the end as he presses his mouth to yours. It makes your back arch forward, seeking more of his skin, his touch.

His hands are growing desperate now. Neteyam knows he has to be gentle, avoiding the damaged skin on your back and remaining weary of the injuries on your rib and leg, but he so badly just wants to pull you close to him and never let go. He wants to hold you, to feel you, to be with you in every single way he can imagine so passionately. But he can’t. He will have to wait for another time.

You, on the other hand, may roam freely. Your hands travel down his chest, exploring the taught skin of his stomach. It seems he subconsciously flexes underneath your touch, something that is rather enticing. Reaching the plusher skin of his lower stomach, although there still isn’t much give, you trace the muscle gingerly, bordering right above the hem of his loincloth. The delicate touch of your fingers causes him to lightly moan into your mouth, a sound you gladly drink down just to feel its warmth in your stomach.

Neteyam pulls away suddenly, a loss you’re greatly upset about until he relocates his lips under your ear, traveling down your neck. He hums against the skin, tongue swiping against it as if he’s trying to taste as much of you as he can, as much as he’s allowed.

“You can’t touch me like that,” he says, using a hand to bring both of yours back toward his chest. You cradle his head instead, tracing a finger along his ear. It twitches.

“Why not?” you question, voice airy. Neteyam nearly preens at the sound, tail wild. “You seem to like it.”

“I do like it,” he insists, “I love it, even.”

“Then why can’t I touch you there?”

He places a wet, fervent kiss against the crook of your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat, a moan threatening to escape past your lips.

“Because,” another kiss, “You are not promised to me yet.”

“I just told you that I’m yours,” you reminded him.

“Yes,” he nods, trailing his kisses back toward your jaw. “However, you’re still not mine.”

Oh.

“I could be yours. All you have to do is ask,” you say as if it’s not something he already knows. You hold his head in place, halting his journey upwards so you can whisper in his ear: “Ask me, Neteyam.”

His tail swishes excitedly, something that makes you smile. Great Mother, you could eat him up.

“No,” he responds, pulling away and facing you head-on. He has a lovesick smile on his face, a grin that nobody could wipe off as long as you’re around. “I want to do it right.”

“Yeah?” you counter. “How would you do it?”

“Well,” he hums, kissing your lips. “First, I’d get all of your favorite foods. All of those fruits you like, season everything all nice,” he begins to slowly kiss your cheeks, “and get it all ready just for you to eat.”

“What else?”

“Then,” his kisses travel towards your ear, “Once you’re full and comfortable, we’ll go for a walk.” He bites your ear lobe and you press yourself against him. “We’ll go to our favorite spots: we’ll look at those flowers you like, go to the river, maybe swim a little. I like the way your hair looks while wet, you look so pretty,” he sighs. “You listening?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Go on.”

“Then I’d bring you to our sacred tree, just so Eywa can see us and I can see you under her light. I want to see you when I ask you. I want to see you if you smile or cry or decide that I’m not the one, I don’t care, I just want to see you,” he smiles, no longer kissing you but nudging your nose with his.

“And if you say yes—Great Mother, I hope you say yes—I promise, I’ll treat you so well. I’ll hold you the way you ask to be held, kiss you in all of the places I already know you love to be kissed, and learn all of the new places I can’t reach yet too. I want to feel you, and see the way you react. I want you to feel me, too. I want you to see me, and I want to see you,” he whispers, voicing each wish.

You nod, slowly and then desperately. “I want to see you, too,” you promise. He smiles that big, toothy smile. “Tell me when you’ll ask me? I can’t wait for much longer. I need you.”

His eyelids grow heavy, skin heating underneath your palm. “I need you, too,” he gasps, leaning forward to kiss you again. “It’ll be soon, just want you to heal for now.”

“Yeah?” you smile. “Soon?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “Soon.”

#neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x female reader #avatar #avatar: twow #avatar: the way of water #neteyam sully fluff #neteyam sully angst #neteyam sully x reader #atwow #atwow headcanons #atwow imagines #neteyam suli x reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan x reader

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hexgaywire · 2 years

Text

LUXIEM Bedtime Routine

Writing type: Headcanons

Rating: SFW

Total Word count: 1036≈(before edits)

Other notes: Implied some sort of established relationship with the reader (you can interpret as platonic or romantic, it's up to you)

Featured?: Ike, Myta, Vox, Luca, and Shu

Author comment: HA! with a blog name like mine you'd expect a XSOLEI headcanons first but gotta keep them guessing ig.... Please enjoy;; my headcanons are a stream of my consciousness if anything; I haven't written anything publicly in like a year ahaha (killme)

Disclaimer and Reminder; this is based on the characters made by NIJISANJI, not the people behind the character voicing them. If in the future the person expresses or states that fics of this nature makes them uncomfortable I will 100% remove this or anything I write about the characters involved.

Bedtime routine:

Always has a cup of sleepy time tea before bed

Will force you to drink one too (because you both have no sleep schedule <3)

For nights where you both go to sleep on time, skin care routine

Hear me out.... I'm talking face masks, creams the full sends baby

Once all of that is taken care of y'all will eventually change into whatever you sleep in (Oliver-sensei outted Ike the other day for sleeping in only boxers lmfao but that's not relevant)

He will spend at least an hour reading in bed before falling asleep, be prepared with a sleeping eye mask maybe?

Or start a night time books club with him because he will not change this

He is a novelist after all

Once he's done reading and the glasses come off, one of two things will happen

He will fall asleep immediately

Or you guys will be up for the majority of the night talking about deep stuff

You know those sleepovers you have with your homies where it gets deep, that's what I mean

Regardless what time you pass out you are sure to sleep safe next to Ike!

Extras:

Ike doesn't strike me as a guy who likes to cuddle in bed, if anything you accidently snuggle up to him he'll shuffle away from you

He sometimes will fall asleep at his desk which is a habit he only started since streaming, back when he was novelist he didn't have this problem for some reason

Ike sleeps with like one blanket? I hope you like the cold <3

Bedtime routine:

I feel like Mysta's bedtime routine is a wildcard, you never know what he's gunna be doing to eventually end up in bed

You brush your teeth and he goes "OoOOoh I knew I was forgetting to do something."

Sleeping feels more like a chore to him then a necessity

You'll catch this man up at 3 am playing Minecraft and he'll still be like "Oh shit, is it bedtime?"

He's a piece of work to even get him to start to migrate towards the bedroom

Once he finally changes and lays down; he's kind of like Ike, where he'll immediately pass out or will spend hours talking to you

However the conversations are more like "Why is cheddar cheese orange do you think?"

GOOGLE IT IDK I'M TIRED

Once he finally falls asleep he 100% mumbles in his sleep, you find it endearing as you slip on a pair of headphones or earplug's

Extras:

Opposed to Ike; you will wake up either cuddling or being cuddled by Mysta

Despite the struggle to get this man into bed, he sleeps better next to someone

Known to occasionally sleep walk

You found him in the bathtub one time it was kinda scary

He firmly denies this ever happened

Bedtime Routine:

Vox is very ritualist when it comes to bedtime

He's also a very sleepy demon and enjoys maximizing his sleep to its full extent

So with him it's very "no nonsense"

He takes a shower

Blow-dries and cares for his hair

He brushes his teeth (While still in a towel)

Again h e a r m e o u t....

He's a voice demon that came back to life, he has a skincare routine for bedtime (Still in a towel btw)

All luxury products of course

After that he change into something comfy

For some reason after all of that this man sleeps in mismatched socks like a sociopathy

Once y'all lay down he'll watch some stupid memes on his phone of a bit or do some light reading

There is no in between

Once he's done however he is out like a light, usually within an arms reach of you

Extras:

Similarly to Mysta, you will wake up in his arms

It's funny because he insists it's entirely your doing

On the rare occasions where he can't sleep he'll get up and cook something

He says it helps him relax

The delicious aroma however wakes you up and the two of you share a lovely midnight snack

Bedtime Routine:

Luca tends to stay up really late

This is partial because of old work habits (if no ones awake to see you get rid of a body then it isn't a problem)

Luca like Vox though has bit of a ritualist bedtime getting ready routine though

Shower

Brush teeth

Change

Without fall no matter how late into the night (morning) it is

Once in bed, he crashes

The man is out like a light

I think because his bedroom is definitely his own space he feels at ease and can just doze off

It does help that he has a very nice bed I guess too

Once again you know you can sleep safe next to Luca, he wouldn't let anything disturb you

Extras:

Like Mysta, Luca does occasionally talks in his sleep, but not nearly as loud as Mysta does

He doesn't strike me as the cuddling type either, i think if you tired it wake him up

Despite being able to sleep easily he also wakes up super easily

Again probably due to his pat

Fear not though, once Luca let's his gaurd down again he passses out pretty quickly again

Bedtime routine:

Shu, like Ike, has a big cup of tea before bed

He swears up and down that drinking something warm before bed gets you to sleep faster

He's also diligent with his night time hygiene needs

Once again; for the final time, I'm asking you to hear me out

Skin

Care

Routine

You cannot sit here and tell Mr. Shu Sorcerer Yamino (eyyyyyyyyy) doesn't take good care of his skin

Off track but anyway

Kind of like Luca, once he's in bed he is out

I also feel like Shu snores but like not loud? It's kinda like white noise (like listening to ocean??)

Sleep well sweet sorcerer

Extras:

Shu is also not a cuddler, he's more the type to like accidently fall out of bed if you snuggle up to him

He doesn't like feeling the extra body heat on him while he sleeps

Off topic again but he also has a strict morning routine which consists of him getting up early

He's be trying to get you on board but like sleep ya know?

(My request are open plz send me some)

#luxiem #luxiem x reader #luxiem x you #luxiem headcanons #nijisanji #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #ike eveland #mysta rias #vox akuma #luca kaneshiro #shu yamino #ike eveland x reader #mysta rias x reader #vox akuma x reader #luca kaneshiro x reader #shu yamino x reader #hexgaywire headcanons

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inkygloom · 1 month

Note

jealous..shinobu x fem reader one shot.. perchance? ngl there's barely enough jealous shino here it's sad💔💔/j Only if you're comfortable of course, thank you! Have a nice day/evening.

Thank you so much for the request!! Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :3

Ship: Shinobu x reader

Genre: can't decide if this is fluff or angst... probably angst ig because as you might have guessed, Shinobu gets jealous in this one :0

Word Count: 905

Warnings: Rengoku, Tengen, Sanemi, and Obanai are kind of dicks in this one. But I image they didn't do it on purpose, they're just clueless. Except Obanai, he meant all of that. completely sfw c:

Sparring

"Honey?" Shinobu calls, peeking her head into your shared room within the Butterfly Mansion. When she doesn't find you there she walks around looking for you in every corner.

When she's searched nearly the entire mansion she stops just below the stairs. "Now where could she have gotten off to..." She asks quietly to no one in particular.

Deciding you couldn't have gotten far, she leaves the mansion and instead begins to walk through the grounds of the demon slayer corps.

She passes kakushi and demon slayers alike as she walks along the paved walkways, getting respectful bows from each. Though she ignores them in favor of keeping an eye out for you.

She passes the Master's residence and sees Mitsuri and Obanai talking out front. "Hello," She approaches, putting a hand up in greeting.

"Hi, Shinobu," Mitsuri turns excitedly to wave. "Me and Obanai were just talking about a recent battle between three of the new demon slayers and a powerful drum demon."

"Oh, I've heard. Anyway, do you know where my beloved is? I can't seem to find her."

Mitsuri hums and tilts her head in thought.

Obanai points a finger at her while taking a step back to take up a menacing stance. "You lost her? Unforgivable. You must never lose sight of the woman you love." He says angrily.

Mitsuri gasps and puts an arm out in front of him as if to shield them from each other. "Obanai! You can't say those things. Shinobu's girlfriend is her own person who can make her own decisions without Shinobu's permission," She scolds.

He kicks the dirt beneath his feet and hangs his head. His "right" is barely audible, but heard nonetheless.

Shinobu grits her teeth and closes her eyes as she responds. "That's big talk for a man who can't confess his feelings to the one he loves. Now, I asked if you've seen my darling. If you haven't I'll be on my way, yes?"

Mitsuri nods. "I haven't seen her recently. Have you, Obanai?" She turns to the man in question, to which he shakes his head.

With that, Shinobu continues walking, her good mood ruined. She manages to keep up her usual smile as she walks, though it's not easy.

She rounds a corner in the path to see Rengoku, Tengen, Giyuu, Sanemi, Muichiro, and her girlfriend standing around the large path of ground designated to sparring. Her face lights up and she picks up the pace.

Since you were talking to Tengen and looking up to do so, you notice her out of the corner of your eye. You turn around and catch her in a hug. "Hi, baby!" You say against her shoulder.

"Shinobu's here!" Rengoku's booming voice calls out, catching the other hashiras' attention.

Since she's now by your side, Shinobu's feeling much better. "What going on over here?" She asks, gesturing to the crowd of hashira.

Sanemi steps into the middle of the group, unsheathing his sword and raising it. "Tournament. Who's up against me next?"

"Wait, wait, wait. Since Shinobu's here we gotta restart, right?" Tengen asks, to which Rengoku nods enthusiastically. "Good idea!"

Giyuu nods, Sanemi grumbles, and Muichiro shrugs without a fight.

While the wind hashira steps out of the middle, Tengen and Rengoku turn to each other. "Wait," Tengen begins. "Who's fighting who then? I want to fight her because she's the flashiest, next to you, of course." He gestures to you.

"Sounds good to me. Even though I also wanted to fight her due to her elegant fighting style and how entertaining of an opponent she is, I'll leave her to you." Rengoku gives his best friend a thumbs up.

Shinobu gives them a stern look. "Well, shouldn't we ask her who she wants to fight first?"

Tengen just waves her off. "Like she'd want to fight someone else. Nobody's as flashy as me, and plus, she likes me the most, right?" He smiles cockily before putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

"Excuse me?" Shinobu starts, before promptly getting cut off.

Sanemi, who still has his sword unsheathed, points it at Tengen. "Hey! If it's entertainment we're looking for, she's obviously going to want me. Everybody knows she enjoys spending time with me anyway."

Something about his wording just ticked her off. 'She's obviously going to want me,' is the only thing Shinobu heard from Sanemi's statement. She pulls you away from Tengen, which wouldn't have been easy had she not been so mad, and marches off back down the pathway.

"Hey- woah," you squeak in surprise at Shinobu's sudden grip on your wrist. "What's wrong?"

Shinobu huffs as she listens to the men behind you make exclamations of surprise. Her anger is evident on her face, which is very unusual for her.

"They think you're so obsessed with them. I just couldn't listen to them argue over you." She stops walking near the place Mitsuri and Obanai had been before. "They're so annoying! They can't ever put their egos aside, can they?"

You frown as you watch her rub her temples and sigh. "Oh, Shinobu, It's ok. I promise I'd never choose any of them over you." You pull her into a hug.

"I just wish they'd shut up." She grumbles against your haori.

You nod and then gently pull away so you can cup her face and kiss the top of her head.

#demon slayer #hashira #shinobu kocho #shinobu x reader #implied obamitsu #mitsuri kanroji #obani iguro #tengen uzui #rengoku kyojuro #sanemi shinazugawa

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ghoularaki · 2 years

Note

Loved your baj keisuke primal prey fic! Especially the plot in the chase was soo good eventhough it was the built up!

I was wondering if you'd be cool with writing something along the lines of a crossover of a yokai or a vampire. I would love a little demonic energy. Along the lines of denying feelings, to being in heat/need for blood (?) To a little chasing and well wooing in the yandere way >>:)

Happy holidays ! :DD

my bloody valentine

ig chase scenes and clubs are just gonna become my staple, i aint complaining >:) (meant to post this on valentine's so heres a 12 day late holiday fic lmao)

tw yandere vampire! baji, vampire hunter! reader, manipulative! baji, aged up! baji, dom! baji, DUBCON, violence/blood, sex work?, blood play, biting, praise, breath play, drugging, cunnilingus, overstimulation, size kink, reader almost dies from blood loss, hinted mindbreak

You blew hot air into your freezing hands. The warmth would only linger for a second but it was idle movement that kept you busy. This winter was incredibly cruel this year. Shivering, you look around into the den you will be infiltrating. You can’t say you weren’t thrilled to be given this mission by the Higher Ones.

Humans and vampires have been at war since life and death were created. It was a constant push and pull. Humans would win for a century, vampires would retaliate, then vampires would reign for the same length. You were sadly born in the time where vampires ruled. Most humans kept to themselves, some would even offer themselves to be feeds for promises of luxury. Others would hand over their lives in a different way, swear an oath to the Higher Ones to wipe out vampires for once and for all.

None of the hunters—or rather cleansers—knew exactly who the Higher Ones were. All cleansers knew was that they would receive a message whether in the mail or on their phones with a simple location and target. The target was usually the sire, cut the head of the snake and others will follow. It wasn’t rare for cleansers to work alone. Usually you would be given a partner but for this mission, you were left to your own devices. It’s not like you worked well with others, anyway. Maybe the Higher Ones finally got the message, or they were trying to kill you off. Either way, you were going to finish this mission and reap the benefits.

Flipping your phone open, you spied the message. Your mission was to pretend to be a feed to cleanse a higher ranking vampire by the name of Baji Keisuke. The number of those sired to him wasn’t the highest count—only somewhere around a dozen—a concerningly low number considering he usually had a feed.

Slipping your phone into your jacket pocket you finally make your way into the den disguised as a club. For some reason there was no bouncer at the door. Immediately you were hit with the thumping of a constant bass. Up high was a platform where a DJ set the mood for the atmosphere. The only illumination were red, flashing lights that cut through the artificial fog. There was a gaggle of grinding bodies throughout the room. By the bar were even more people. A balcony was right over the bar which you assumed was where the feeding rooms were. Glancing up, you swore you felt eyes boring right into you, but as you squinted your eyes to see farther, all the vampires hanging off the side were enjoying the show.

On high alert, deep in vampire territory, you were surprised that no one had smelt your very human scent.

“You must be lost!” A sweet, bubbly voice called to you.

Not knowing how you didn’t sense her, a petite woman stood before you. To say she was beautiful was an understatement. This woman had dazzling hazel eyes paired with soft-looking, blonde hair. Her skin was just as perfect, no blemish in sight that made you want to cover your own face. The best way to describe her was as angelic.

“Oh!” She piped up, realization on her face, “you must be a new feed.”

Straightening up, you replied, “how could you tell?”

“I can smell you, silly.”

She tapped her nose. Looking closer, from her grin you could see the baby fangs poking out.

“Yes, I don’t really know what to do, though.”

“I’ll take you to Draken!”

You were correct to describe her as bubbly. Minutes into knowing you, she wrapped her arm with yours and led you to whoever Draken was. Pushing her way through the crowds, she pulled you towards a set of doors near the bar. Now under the balcony, the feeling of being gawked at went away. You needed to be more careful.

Past the doors was a hallway not as smokey and loud as the club. A few couples leaned against the wall in their own worlds. Further down the hall stood a gargantuan man with a long, blond braid. On the side of his head was an intricate, blackwork tattoo: you can’t imagine how much it must have hurt.

“Draken,” the girl called with you in toe.

He looked up from his phone to see you both. His eyebrow twitched. He seemed displeased with said girl.

“Emma, why did you bring a human back here?”

Ah, so that’s why he was so pissed.

She ignored his question, “she’s a new feed.”

His eyes widen at that, almost relieved, “thank fuck,” he turned to you, “have you ever been a feed before?”

Pretending to seem insecure and meek, you shook your head no. Sensing your nervousness, Draken took you from Emma. She had made a noise of protest, but he had given her a look.

The hand on your shoulder was warm. He must have fed recently. It was true vampires were cold to the touch, but once they satiate their carnal needs, the blood they drank would warm their system for about an hour before becoming cold again like freshly baked cake left to cool for too long. That is why so many vampires indulged, to feel the warmth of being human again.

Further down the hallway you two went. Draken cleared his throat, “I’m sure you know that being a feed means that you will have a vampire drink from you.”

When you nod your head, he continued.

“Feeding doesn’t hurt if you are worried about that at all. Anyway, how we do feeding here is that we make sure that all feeds' needs are met. You will always be allowed breaks, and plenty of foods and drinks to bring back up your blood sugar. You also have the option of anything sexual happening and whether or not penetration will happen as well.”

Your face heated up at the implication, “no sex or anything like that, please.”

“Good to know.”

Draken led you up a flight of stairs to what you saw was the balcony you were previously looking at. Similar to the hallway, the walls were a burgundy with gold detailings. How stereotypical.

“I will inform who will be feeding from you what you decided. Wait here.”

With that, he went into a room beside you. You looked left and then right. While taking you upstairs, you memorized the route in case something goes wrong. You needed a fast escape in case. This mission was completely solo so you had to watch your own back.

Draken pushing the door back open startled you out of your thoughts. The door was left wide open as he gestured for you to come in. Taking the invitation, the room was just as red as the rest of the club. In the room were two wine hued, velvet couches adjacent to each other. Right between them was a mahogany table, under what was a mini fridge. You guessed that’s were all food and drinks you were promised for your blood sugar was.

The most eye-catching part was the three men in the room sat on said couches. On the sofa to the right were two men, one had bleach blond hair. You could tell from here that he was on the shorter side but you didn’t let that fool you. He had an alluring, cat-like look to him.

On the other hand, the man beside him had honey gold, rounded eyes. His hair dangled past his shoulders with yellow money pieces framing his sculpted face. Along with that, thick inking was displayed on the side of his neck depicting a tiger. It oddly suited him.

But what grabbed your attention the most was the vampire sitting on his lonesome, arms sprawled over the back of the couch. Legs spread as well, his whole posture demanded attention. He tilted his head to the side with a cocky smile. His hair was in a similar style to the tattooed man across from him. Though, the vampire’s hair was that of spilled ink. It tumbled around him, his fair complexion all the more pale in contrast. Similar to Emma, his fangs were on display as he smiled up at you as a cat to an unsuspecting mouse.

“Must be the new plaything,” the black haired vampire teased.

The bottle blond scoffed, “don’t scare her, Baji.”

You schooled your expression. That was a lot easier than you thought to find your target. So sure you would have to ask around without being conspicuous to find him, this seemed almost too easy.

Baji reached a hand out from where he sat. Taming your disgust, you leave the security of the doorway and enter the belly of the beast. Placing your hand into his freezing, larger palm, Draken took his leave and closed you in with the enemy. Forgoing any formalities, Baji pulled you right into his lap. You struggled in shock but he was quick to snuff the resistance by gripping your hips.

The other vampires in the room laughed. You silently seethed being used as a toy for their sick entertainment. Knowing in this position you couldn’t even imagine taking down the vampire, you melted into his chest.

“Atta girl,” he sighed into your ear.

Coming down from their giggles, the other men introduce themselves.

“I’m Chifuyu. I will not apologize for Baji because he will just be annoying,” the bottle blond—Chifuyu—clarified with no malice in his voice. Baji playfully snarled at him.

“Kazutora. Lets hope you last longer than the other ones,” the tattooed vampire spoke cryptically. How reassuring.

Chifuyu elbowed him.

Ignoring the bickering, Baji placed his attention on you, “Don’t listen to him. I don’t intend to break you… yet.”

“I don’t like what that implies.”

The room became silent at your sass. Kazutora smirked, “so the little lamb has fangs as well.”

You clamped your mouth shut at that. Baji adjusted you in his lap, but he didn’t give away any displeasure.

At that, the room becomes lively once again. Your presence was completely ignored. You didn’t know if you should be insulted or not. The strangest part was the whole time, Baji didn’t feed from you at all. Besides in the beginning of the session, he had not even grazed your neck. This confused you as you were sure it has been weeks since he has fed. His self control was terrifying if he could starve himself and have basically raw meat served to him on a silver platter and not give into temptation.

You tried your best to keep your cool and slow your pulse to not show how confused you were. By the end of the night, Baji had sent you away by dragging his nose up the length of your neck.

Kissing the skin beneath your ear, “‘til tomorrow, pet.”

In a daze, you leave his lap and walk out of the den with not a scratch on you. As you made your way back to your hideout, you completely forgot about your goal of immediately annihilating him.

You were awoken with two text messages. One from a Higher One and another from Draken. While walking down the hall, you had totally forgotten you had given your number so he could contact you when Baji wanted you. You were officially Baji’s feed.

ONE WEEK

sent 10:00 AM

Come to the club at 10 pm

sent 5:53 AM

Throwing your phone in anger at the first message, you racked a hand down your face. How the fuck where you supposed to kill him in a week? These old fucks were definitely trying to kill you off.

Sending a thumbs up to Draken, you lay in bed contemplating your next move to take out this den.

When you went back to the club, you were met with Draken at the door this time. He guided you through the crowds. You caught a glimpse of Emma, exchanging a shy wave to her overexcited one.

Going down the same path to the room, you once again mark in your head how to swiftly get out of the building. There were no windows to not let sunlight touch the inside. Vampires didn’t burn up in the sun, but it could make them ill if exposed for too long, like a worm stuck on the concrete on a summer day.

Deja vu crept in when you walked in just as you did yesterday to see the same vampires in the same position. You could tell yourself that they never left like dolls in a dollhouse waiting for whatever child to play with them again.

Baji welcomed you back into his icy embrace. Less skittish as the day before, you thaw into his cold body. They went back to their conversation. You played the part of a lap dog for these beasts.

This went on for seven more days.

Anxiety bubbled up inside you. This was the last day given to you to complete this assignment. Typically, you were fast at finishing a job, but for some reason you had dragged this one out. Maybe it was the first time you had to actually get close to a target instead of your usual shoot and leave. You had grown comfortable with the company of those three vampires. Dare you say, safe, as no one had harmed a hair on your head. It had been years since you had been cared for. It was hard to befriend fellow cleansers as you never knew who would make it back, whether it was a vampire or by the Higher Ones’ hands.

There was a reason not many chose to be cleansers, most didn’t even have a choice. You bared through the cards dealt to you. You can’t afford to not complete this job. Tonight was the night.

Adjusting the silver blade strapped against your thigh, you saw Draken waiting for your arrival.

“Before you come in, I must warn you tonight is Valentine’s day so there is going to be a lot of traffic. You will go to your usual room, but don’t be surprised by the influx of your kind.”

You understood the implications. Some people were here to get their kicks. “Whatever, let's just get out of this cold.”

“After you.”

Nodding your head, you are hit with the warmth of tightly packed bodies, a mix of vampires and humans. Lust really does bring camaraderie, you mused. You abandoned the sentiment, prepared to finish this once and for all. If you were smart, you could use the crowd to blend in when you make your departure. It was difficult to see over the sea of people.

Forcing your way through, you take the road to what could be your doom and be in the company of those strange vampires. Usually Draken would lead you to the room, this time he was too busy dealing with the crowd. There were plenty of inexperienced humans he had to make sure wouldn’t be drained like sun dried fruit.

Knocking on the familiar door, you awaited entrance. If you were in a better mood, you would have laughed at how the roles were reversed. You, a human, had to wait to be invited in.

“Come in,” Chifuyu’s voice called.

You twisted the door open to be presented with your typical company.

Baji beckoned you to take your place sat upon his thighs. Cocooning his body around your smaller form, you noticed that he seemed colder. His skin had light frost to it, but now he was glacerial.

On the side table were four wine glasses of varying heights of liquid in them. Baji grabbed the only cup almost filled to the brim.

“Here, drink,” he didn’t let you answer before tipping the glass to your lips.

Unable to refuse, you gulped down the rich drink, parched. As if you haven’t drank in a millenia, you let Baji pour the liquid until the glass was empty. Chifuyu and Kazutora watched on, sipping their own drinks.

“Good girl.”

Finished your glass, he placed it down and went about his business. Following routine, he ignored your pulsing jugular and kept banter with his fellow vampires. At this point, he must be famished. He hadn’t fed in what you guessed three weeks. Lesser vampires would have withered in a couple days without blood. Vampires could get nutrients from human food, but blood is where they thrived.

Mixed with the suspense of having to kill Baji without getting slaughtered and the suspicion that Baji refused to feed from you, you were more fidgety than normal. Picking at your fingernails, your eyes bounced to the door and then subtly to Baji. If you were quick you could puncture his carotid artery and sprint out, praying to whatever god that Chifuyu and Kazutora would be too stunned to instantly pounce on you.

A whisper breathed against your ear, “getting antsy, little hunter?”

Fuck.

You instantly struggle in his hold but he wrapped his arms around you tight, tight, tight.

He snickered at your misfortune, “don’t think you could trick me, little hunter, I saw you eyeing out the club weeks before finally presenting yourself on a platter. Thorough aren't you?"

Spiteful, you clenched the dagger hidden in the garter belt and stabbed right through the meat of his thigh. He growls at the pain, face contorting more demon-like. Vampires were good at hiding their true forms unless presented with silver.

You sprung yourself from his lap as he cradled the wound. Him refusing to feed came to bite him as the wound would take longer to heal. Cursing yourself for only having a dagger, you raised your fists in self-defense. You were so worried about the attention a gunshot would bring, you forgot how useless a dagger would be.

Inching towards the door away from the three vampires, you braced yourself. "I will kill you all.”

Kazutora giggled, "how boring." He looked at you as if you were a kitten hissing.

Your face twitches at the taunt.

Still cradling his thigh, Baji’s voice cut through the room, "how about let's make this a game. I will give you five minutes to make it out of the club. Do so and I will let you leave. If I find you, though, little hunter, you're mine. My eternal."

Your eyes widen at the proposition. You will not become a vampire's pet.

Weighing your options, you seethed, "fuck you."

He simply pouted before grinning, "tick tock, you now only have 4 and an half minutes left.”

Even if you didn't want to play he was going to force you. You looked at the three vampires before you. Baji elated, Kazutora bored and Chifuyu looked almost concerned, but you knew it was falsely placed.

You ran out the room with the haunting cackles calling after you. How naive of you to think these creatures were any different. They will always satiate their hunger before anything else. Gluttons, the lot of them.

Sprinting down the intimate, winding corridors, you were confident in your escape. You memorized the path over the week, knowing it would come to this. But before you were even in the vicinity of the stairwell, you felt woozy.

The red walls blending together, the hues likened to meat more than plaster and wallpaper. Shaking your head, you steeled your teeth. The fucker put something in your drink.

You weren't going to be shackled to him no matter what. Leaning against the walls, you try to hurry away from the private rooms and down to where the population was. Hopefully you could slip away as easily as you planned before. It be damned if you were punished by the higher ones for failing this mission, you weren't going to lose your autonomy to a vampire of all things. You rather lose the eye you sure were going to. The repentment was always a high price.

Willing yourself to push forward, you kept your weight against the wall. If you played your cards right—and stayed awake—you could possibly make it out of this alive. He did say he would give you five minutes. Despite this, with the drug pumping through your veins, time slowed. Every muscle in your body was sluggish. Clutching onto the blooded dagger, you tread on. The one thing you had was your stubbornness and you let that fuel your heavy bones.

There had to be a reason you lasted this long, especially with spending most of it alone. You were built to endure. And endure you must if you truly don’t want to become a vampire's eternal.

Brain swimming, you made it to the stairs. Almost there, you reassured yourself. Once you make it to the crowd, your scent and form would disappear into the pool of bodies. Surely, Baji would lose you like a bloodhound presented with too many stimuli. Hope was all you could cling on for now.

Trying your best to forgo the fuzziness, you race down the stairwell back into the forsaken hallway that started this all. You were almost there, all you needed to do was exit the winding corridor. You would crawl back from the mouth of hell.

A chuckle bellowed in the deserted space. Speak of the devil.

At the top of the stairwell was the very last creature you wanted to see. Stood before was the very vampire that damned you. Smugness reeked from his posture. His hair was tied back. Doom settled in your belly.

“Hard to focus, huh?” He mocked.

You sneered. Even if he caught sight of you, this morbid game of hide and seek was not done until you decided so.

Adrenaline pumping ever faster, you ripped open a door not too far from you. Slamming it closed and locking it, you ignored the screaming of a woman. On a couch very similar to the one upstairs was a woman with a vampire drinking from her wrist.

“Get the fuck out!” The vampire sneered, her body shielded the woman. How sweet.

“Don’t let him in,” was all you replied.

This room also had no window, though there was a door to the right. You swung open to see it was another room just like this one. Must be a safety precaution. Doesn’t matter, all that does is that you can use this to your advantage. You will just room hop until you reach as close as you can to the exit.

Baji slammed against the door of the room you had just left. Not tempting fate and not wanting him to know you knew all the rooms were connected, you jumped over the couch to the next door.

You opened and once again you were met with nothing. Sighing in relief, surely if another person kicked up a fuss Baji would instantly pinpoint your location. Dagger in hand, you barged into room after room. The repetition of decor flashed in front of you like a fever dream.

After what could have been the tenth door you were met with a deadend. This must be the last room in the hall. Inhaling as much as you could, you open the door to the hallway. You were met with nothing and the red lights poured into the hall. Just as you were about to leave the room, a hand grabbed your lower face and pulled you backwards. A scream caught in your throat as the door was pushed shut. Slammed into a tall, freezing body, you struggled.

How the fuck were you caught? You were careful, this wasn’t fair.

The body wrapped their arm around your waist and hauled you further into the room until you both collapsed onto the couch. Sat upon the lap of the very vampire you wanted far from you, you dug your nails into the skin of his arm. He simply squeezed you tighter.

“Guess you lost, little hunter.” His tone was condescending and amused.

No, no, you weren’t done. This wasn’t over until you decided it was. The forgotten dagger was quick to dig into the meat of the arm binding you to him. He growled in pain. The hand clutching your lower face, moved its grip to slam your head against the arm of the couch. Your brain wobbled in your skull. Blood gushed from your nose. Everything was in a daze.

Baji ripped the dagger that poked from the other side of his forearm. You were sure you nicked yourself, but it was worth it. He threw your only weapon far from the both of you.

He leaned over you and gripped you by your throat. “You brat.”

You laughed in his face. You had definitely sealed your fate as rage built in those molten eyes, but the satisfaction was worth the penalization.

“You content with yourself?” He mocked, and as you laughed harder, something in him shifted.

In those golden irises, mischief crept in. Baji never liked prey that rolled over and let him devour. The best part of a meal is the anticipation.

Still clutching your fragile throat, he leaned down and licked the blood that pooled from your nose down to your lips. A moan left him as his nails grew sharper and the teeth in his mouth stretched. Feeding was always a vulnerable time for vampires as their true forms manifested. Still beautiful, but oh so haunting. Black veins spidered from his under eyes as his mouth became a darker hue.

“You are absolutely divine.” The words were meant to flatter, but you recoiled. Baji saw the fear start to build. “Now don’t be like that. I won’t hurt you, unless you want me to.”

“Get off me!”

He pressed his body further into yours, his cold meshing with your warmth. The chase had left you heated and your body almost craved the ice he gave.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun, little hunter. Your kind are always the adrenaline junkies. Can’t say I can judge, though.”

You sniped at him, “yes, running for my life was very thrilling.”

“That's the spirit!” He laughed. This damned vampire was insane.

You squirmed, wanting him off you. Your arms still freed, you slapped and hit what you could, but it was useless. Baji easily gathered your wrists into one hand and pinned them to the arm of the couch. His weight pressed further into you. His legs, he pried yours apart so he could slot your crotch to his. There was no way you could escape his hold now.

Exhausted, you don’t know if you even want to. The drugs still haven’t left your system.

Baji nosed the side of your neck as he did the past week. “See, it doesn’t have to be hard. Just give in to me and you will never have to worry again.”

The words were tempting, but how can you believe the words of a forked tongue beast?

Still seeing you hesitating, Baji pushed more, “it can’t be a great life as a hunter. You spend your days in solitude, in fear of your Higher Ones. With me, you will no longer be afraid.”

You furrowed your brows, his words were too accurate. “How do you know that?”

“I have watched you for so long, my dear hunter. You can say I’m a picky eater.”

Of course, he had been stalking you, why would you think anything else? “Get off. Get off!”

Baji’s thumb stroked right where your carotid artery is, entranced of the blood flowing under the flesh. He stopped listening to your defiant quips. The vampire forgot how long it had been since he fed and he has his meal right under his thumb. He wanted you to be more willing about this, but if he must be mean, he will.

Moving his thumb so it dug into your jawbone, he tilted your head to the right. Baji licked your neck before diving in. A screech bubbled in your lungs when he bit down. His teeth were needles and the more he sank in, the more agony spread throughout your body. Your feet kicked in instinct. God, it fucking hurt but as he gulped down your rosy life essence, your body became pliant.

His saliva finally hit your system, endorphins clouded your mind. These happy chemicals dimmed the pain and how he was draining you of all your worth. Your screams ebbed into tiny whimpers.

Seeing you had calmed down, Baji pulled away from your neck and licked the blood that fell from the open wound. Falling into blood lust, Baji grew hard from your noises and the taste of you. A warmth grew in his tummy. He needed you and he needed you, now.

He dragged himself from your body until his knees hit the ground. You were too blissed out from the blood lost to refuse him. Taking advantage of that, Baji pulled your pants and panties off you. Despite his hunger, he was gentle with how he undressed you. The vampire wanted to savor you.

He took your shoes off as well so you were completely bare for him. Groaning, he spied how slick collected on your slit from the endorphins and fear. Taking your right leg and placing it on his shoulder, he kissed your calf. He slathered you with open mouth kisses until he reached your inner thigh.

You whined at how he teased you. The build up was making you clench around nothing. Your clit throbbed, begging to be stimulated in any way.

Baji laughed at your impatience. He kept up kissing your inner thigh, switching to the other side to give it the same amount of attention. Dragging his teeth gently over the skin, you whimpered when his breath hit your cunt. You bucked. He took his other hand and splayed it on your tummy to hold you down.

“Patience.”

You kicked him and he scowled at you. The endorphins were wearing off faster than he wanted. Baji went back to your right thigh, so close yet so far from your cunny, he placed another kiss. Before he bit down once again. Your eyes shot up from the half-mast and you gasped in pain. Baji was quick to remedy the pain and licked you. A moan left you when he drank from you again.

It was borderline addicting how your life was drained from you. The familiar sluggishness crept back up. No wonder people were feeds. To stay in this cloudy sensation was heavenly.

Baji parted from your thigh and finally licked your pussy. Blood was smeared over you as he sucked your clit into his mouth. You yelped at the attention. He laughed into you. The vibration of his mouth sent more pleasure down your spine. He pulled off your clit to drag his tongue from the bud down to your hole. The appendage dipped in, testing the waters. Bucking up again, or at least attempting to, Baji took that as to keep going.

And keep going did he. Nose deep, he kept tonguefucking you. It was an odd sensation but not unwelcome. His tongue was more dexterous than fingers. He twisted against your walls. Pulling his tongue out, you whined but he was quick to shut you up by taking your clit back in his mouth. The constant attention was becoming too much.

Finding purchase, your hands gripped the one holding your hips down. He welcomed the contact as he kept pushing you closer and closer to the edge. It was unfair how good he was at this.

“Please, please!” You begged. At this point for more or for him to stop, you didn’t know. It was just too much.

His tongue flicked against the swollen bud as his hand dipped down to split you open with two fingers. The intrusion was almost enough, you just need more. Moans poured out. The stuttering of your chest and the shake of your thighs was enough of a tell to Baji. Ending your misery, he sucked your clit in his mouth as he curled his fingers just right.

Ringing in your ears was all you could hear as you fell apart for the creature you swore you would end tonight. Tears bubbled up at how overwhelmed you were. Baji gave a few more licks and pumps to slowly bring you down from your orgasm. Like he cut all the strings from you, you flop further into the couch.

Oversensitive, you whined when he took his fingers from you and pulled away from your thighs. Blood coated his lower face along with your slick. Your face almost steamed from the humiliation. Still kneeling, he kept eye contact as he brought his fingers to his lips, coated just the same as his face. He dragged his tongue from his palm up to the underside of his appendages.

A wicked gleam flicked in his now ruby eyes, “here, you have a taste.”

He crawled back up to crowd and pin you against the couch. Without poise, he shoved his fingers into your mouth. You gagged at the intrusion and the taste of your own blood and cum. Though still high on the happy hormones, you sucked on his fingers. Maybe if you clean him, he will release you of the taste. “Fuck,” he breathed, slack jawed. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You kept his gaze, eyes bleary. That was enough for Baji. He pulled out from your mouth and sat back up. Impatient, he flicked up the button of his black jeans along with the zipper. The vampire couldn’t take it anymore. He had to be in you. From what he gathered tonguefucking you, you were warm and tight.

He tugged down his pants and boxers with the crass he lacked when he undressed you. His cock was heavy as it flopped out from the constricting material. Baji sighed in relief. His cock was pretty. It was about average length but it was thick. His pubes were untamed and you squirmed at how it would feel against your already overstimulated clit. Precum drooled from the head.

Thank fuck he opened you up or else you don’t think you could handle it with no prep. Baji gathered your arms again. Now filled with your blood, Baji was warm, hot. With his free hand, he lined himself up to your twitching hole.

With no warning, he breached your slit. You groan at how the head bullied its way inside you. Baji followed the noise as he forced his hips further. The drag of his cock against your almost reluctant walls was having you see stars.

He went back to wrapping a hand around your throat, fingers almost meeting at the back of your neck. Baji was so much bigger and stronger than you. He was just a tall man in general, but as he hovered over you with his hips smooshed against yours, you melt at how he engulfs you.

Buried to the hilt, the vampire brings his mouth back to your throat, the wound still throbbed.

“So good,” he slurred.

At that he started his rhythm. He pulled his hips back until only his cockhead was in you. You whined at being almost empty again. He shushed you. Right when he slammed in, he bit down on your throat, a lower place than before. You screamed.

“T-too much!” you cried.

“You can take it.”

Baji ignored your pleas as he fucked into you like a piston. He was using you like a cocksleeve. His pace was thorough and hard. His cock was filling you up in ways you never had before. It was like he was trying to mold your cunny to the shape of his cock.

Baji kept gulping down your blood until you were fuzzy again but this time it was from the blood loss. If he kept drinking from you, you might actually pass out.

You clenched down at the thought. Would he still keep fucking into you even if you were unconscious? A sick part of you wanted him to. So drunk off him, you wanted to be used by him in any way he needed. Why were you so set on killing him only hours ago?

Fuck, maybe you were dying. What a whorish way to go out.

Baji squeezed on your wrists as he lost his rhythm.

“I’m close, fuck, you are divine. Your blood and your pussy. You were built just for me, my eternal.”

A sense of foreboding tried to dig into your consciousness but you were so focused on how you were right that his pubes digging into your clit was too much. Almost to your end as well, you canted your hips in tandem to his.

“More, more,” you pleaded. More of what? You had no clue.

Baji did know what you needed as he pressed his hand further into your throat, squeezing the sides to cut off blood flow to your brain. That was enough for you to clench down so hard that Baji growled. As your cunt fluttered around him, the vampire bit further into the juncture of your shoulder until teeth almost met teeth. You screeched at the pain and Baji’s hips stuttered as he came deep in you. Him filling you has that same ringing blind you.

You came right after him as he kept thrusting his hips into yours, not ready to leave your warmth. The strain of cumming left you limp in Baji’s grasp. Pulling his teeth from your throat, he saw the mess he left of your neck. It was as if you were mauled by a wolf rather than the vampire before you.

You were losing blood fast and no matter how much Baji licked your wounds, it wouldn’t take back all the blood he took from you. Releasing the hand from your neck, he ripped open his own wrist so the life he stole from you and cycled through his undead heart poured from him.

He brought the bleeding arm to your mouth, “drink,” he commanded just as he did earlier tonight.

With no way to resist, you drank. You drank until your belly was filled with his blood that was once yours. Letting go of your bound hands, you cradled the wrist as you swallow all you can, desperate. This was likened to drinking liquid candy.

“Enough.”

Baji pulled his arm away as you whined, missing the taste. Your chin was drenched with blood just as him. Slowly your wounds started to close and your missing blood was replenished. Despite this, you still were in an endless fog.

The vampire leaned back on the other end of the couch and gathered you in his arms. He rested your weary head on his plush pectoral. Whatever drive you had was gone. You wanted to stay in his arms forever. Eternally.

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xcalciumx · 2 years

Text

Priority | Mitsuri Kanroji x Reader x Obanai Iguro

Word Count | 4.0k

Warnings | Mentions of blood ig. No spoilers. Mentions of Doma (ew.) ANGST i didn’t mean for it to be, but it is what it is. Tears. Drama.

Summary | After a mission goes wrong, you’re left to battle with something far worse than a demon: your emotions. Or in which Mitsuri and Obanai are kinda in love with you but you’re kinda broken.

part one | part two

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

Your ribs trembled as you struggled to stay upright, each inhale more painful than the last. The wracking pain in your lungs gave way to the harrowing coughs leaving your lips as you wobbled precariously on your feet. The coppery tang of blood invaded your nose, ears ringing.

In front of you, the demon pranced about with his golden fans.

A particularly harsh cough burst forth from your throat, your hand gripping the nichirin sword in your grasp tighter as you propelled your feet forwards. Gotta keep moving. Can’t stop moving. The dewy grass beneath you turned to dust as you narrowly avoided another one of the demon’s attacks. You took a wide berth around the demon's form, trying to allow time for you to control your breathing. It became glaringly clear that this was no inconvenience for the monster.

“Now, now. Why put up such a fight?” The white-haired beast crooned, his eyes tracking your every move as you came to a stop, legs no longer able to fully support you. “If it’s any consolation, you’re not the first hashira I’ve killed. Oh no, far from the first. You know, you’re very pretty. It would be an honour to carry you with me for eternity…”

A crazed look crept onto the demon's face as you ground your teeth together, shaking your head to clear away the dark vignette bordering your vision. You ignored the throbbing pain in your ankle, forcing yourself not to stop. Every inch of you screamed for reprieve - begged for mercy. But you could not give in.

You had long since discarded your blood soaked haori, your sword was one strong blow from breaking and your vision was swimming with big black, ink-like blots.

You knew that one wrong move would spell the end.

Under the moon's guidance, you sought far into your soul, searching for a way to get out of this alive. Anything. From the deep nothingness of your mind popped a face, much like your own.

“My darling baby. Don’t stop. Never stop.” You blinked blearily at the person in front of you. Were you hallucinating? Is this what death felt like? Two warm hands cupped your cheeks, and suddenly you felt four years old again. “You need to snap out of it. You’re not going to die - not my girl. Not today.”

Your mothers voice was ringing in your ears. But as you went to grab for her, she vanished, leaving only the forest and carnage behind. A sob bubbled out of your mouth, wet tears dripping down your cheeks and mixing with your blood like some twisted painting. It had been too long since you had seen your family. Since they had…you vanquished the thought. You must have looked like a wreck as your gaze pinned onto the demon. His eyes widened in a childlike wonderment, his lips curling into a soft frown.

“Tears? Human emotion -”

You didn’t let him finish his monologue. Mustering all the strength left in your body, you darted forward, hair whipping everywhere as you recited the forms that you had said a thousand times before. A slicing pain came from your abdomen but you paid it no mind, just like the rest of the cuts and bruises now littering your body. You got closer and closer, each breath hurting like a jagged knife to the heart. But you didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. The final words of your twelfth form ripped from your lips and you barely registered as you swung your sword in an arc above your head. You were so close. The demon's neck was so close. From here, it would be like cutting cheese. It should’ve been like cutting cheese.

Solid force bashed against your sword, a loud metal THWANG echoing through the silent woods. Blood rained over you like a shower, hands shaking as you severed through the demon’s neck. The momentum drove you forward, and you were left stumbling onto your knees, head smashing against a rocky outcrop. Screaming was impossible, your throat felt so raw and stripped of skin that even muttering became impossible. Your body was on fire, burning you apart from your toes to your scalp. You couldn’t keep up your constant breathing anymore, lungs constricting rapidly inside your shuddering form. Something sharp poked inside of you. Maybe a broken rib or two or six. You could feel that your ankles were both broken, and your arms were like cooked ramen, floppy and useless.

The stars in the sky dimmed, or maybe that was just your vision slowly fading. Whatever it was, you welcomed the darkness. With the upper moon dead, you could resign yourself to death peacefully, knowing that you’d contributed to the efforts to defeat Muzan Kibitsuji. Or that’s what you thought.

“Oh my, you sure are stubborn.” Said a voice, breaking through the hazy cloud that had settled over your mind. “You nearly got me, you know? Pity that your sword couldn’t keep it up any longer.”

Terror hugged you like a ghost. He wasn’t dead. You hadn’t killed him. That sound…it had been your sword breaking. It didn’t make sense. You had felt the blood spraying your skin, had felt the sword cutting through his flesh. How…?

“Don’t be afraid, little one. You will live on through me. Or well, in me.” The demon was giggling to himself, his pants brushing against your corp uniform as you lay broken on the ground. You had lost. This was the end. All your efforts had been null. You should’ve known that you would never truly make it as a demon slayer. The only reason you had made it this far was luck. If the universe hadn’t been playing its stupid tricks, then you would have been massacred like the rest of your family.

Yeah, so much for being a Hashira.

Laying on the cold grass, you questioned how you had ever been strong enough to qualify as a pillar. To be considered ‘the best of the best’. What a load of crap.

You couldn’t feel your legs, or your arms. Something heavy was pressing against your back and suddenly your body was forced to its feet. The arms looped under yours were the only thing keeping you standing. As much as you wanted to fight, you physically couldn’t. Hours had already passed since the upper moon first arrived. What you first thought was a simple mission had escalated far more than you could ever imagine. It was only you and him; everyone else was dead or well on their way. Your heart cried for the junior members of the corps. They hadn’t stood a chance.

Dark. Everything was so dark. Sharp tingles of pain were creeping up your neck, your body felt like it was being moulded into something else.

Dark. The dark was here.

You couldn’t die like this.

Dark.

Tears were streaming down your face. Were they? Maybe you were just imagining it.

Cold.

You needed to fight. You needed to fight. You needed to fight.

Tired.

The most you could do was pry a single eye open.

Through your squinting vision, you saw the large white moon, so far away up in the sky. The trees whistled with the wind, swaying gently in your peripheral. The demon was elsewhere. Behind you? Was that what the pain radiating from your back was? Maybe. Maybe not. You didn’t know. Everything was numb. A voice whispered into the shell of your ear.

“I can hear your heart slowing down…you sure don’t wanna die, huh?”

You stared forwards, towards the trees. Was there someone there? What was that sound?

A warm hand clasped yours. You couldn’t see her, but you knew your mum had come back. And she was tugging, tugging. Tugging you away somewhere. You let your eye fall shut again, just wanting this to be over. Your mum was taking you home, everything would be okay.

No. Something muttered deep in the black depths of your mind. Look.

“I just want this to stop,” you tried to say back, but your vocal strings were fried, your life was slowly slipping from your grasp.

The voice came again, this time with a fiery barrage of anger.

Look.

So you did.

Your gaze narrow and shaky, you watched as a roaring snake blocked out the moon. And there was pink, pink everywhere. The pressure on your back suddenly disappeared and your body was left to tumble to the ground. This time, nothing could stop your descent into darkness.

“Mmh,” a groan rumbled in your chest. The ground was rapidly moving beneath you, your arms deadweight on your chest. You were floating - no, someone was carrying you. You tried to move your body, but the flaring pain immediately stopped you.

“We’re nearly there,” a quiet voice mumbled somewhere above you. If you weren’t in so much pain, you would have flinched at the sudden noise. Where were you? What was happening?

Peeking your eyes open, you managed to make out the mismatched coloured eyes of the man carrying you. Something silky slid along your neck.

You tried to say his name but failed, eyes blinking once, twice and then falling shut again as the darkness returned.

The next time you woke up, it was to a dimly lit room. A plush pillow was situated under your head and a soft blanket was draped loosely over your lower half. Your whole body ached like a buttcheek on a stick, that was for sure. When you tried to move your legs, nothing happened. Your eyes grew wide, but you winced, your skin feeling tender around your left eye. Huffing a breath, you wiggled your way so that you could sit upright, staring in horror at your legs. Were you…?

“Don't get ahead of yourself. Your legs are in casts for now, they’re just broken.”

Head whipping to the side, you saw Shinobu situated off to the side of your bed. You gaped like a fish, eyes darting between her and your unresponsive legs. A small smile covered her lips.

When you tried to speak, your mouth was too dry. You only managed to cough.

The Insect Hashira got the hint, picking up a glass of water from the bedside table. You took it graciously in trembling hands, gulping down the liquid like a dry sponge. It became clear that you were about to choke, and Shinobu did nothing as you did just that, water sputtering from your lips as you hacked up your lungs. When your coughing fit finally ended, you handed the glass back, slumping unceremoniously back onto the pillows. The room stayed silent for a moment, your heavy breathing occupying the space. You were in the Butterfly mansion, that much was clear. However, you didn't know how. The last thing you remember, you were on the cusp of death and hallucinating some wacky-ass snake covered in love hearts.

“How…” you rasped, making eye contact with Shinobu. “How’d I get here? Am I dead?”

Shinobu stifled a giggle into her haori, magenta hair flying around as she shook her head no. She smiled at you, getting up from her seated position.

“Well, Obanai and Mitsuri brought you back here. Poor girl was crying too much to explain what happened and you know how that damn Snake Hashira is.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying hard to remember the past events. As you did, Shinobu made her way to the door. You raised a brow in question, but she only smiled again and slipped out of the room, silence following in her wake. You groaned. So much for asking questions.

For the next couple of minutes, you dwelled on your thoughts, eyes slowly drooping shut. Just when you thought you would fall back asleep, the door to the room burst open. Loud yelling instantly invaded your ears.

“Yahhh! You’re awake, oh, you’re awake! Do you know how scared I was? Oh! You were bleeding everywhere and you wouldn’t respond when we were saying your name! I thought you were dead. I thought you…” You could only blink in shock at the love hashira. Her yelling quickly quieted down to sobs as she ran over to wrap her arms around your neck. Gargantuan tears rolled off her face and onto your prone form. “Never do that again, okay! When Obanai and I found you, we thought we were too late. Nyahh, why would you fight an upper moon demon alone you dummy!” The crying girl reached a new crescendo as she started yelling again, her voice causing a new throbbing to start up in the back of your head.

“Okay, ‘Suri. I’m alright,” you whispered, hoping to soothe her screaming. Two big green eyes stared at you for a moment, a steady stream of tears still rolling from them. She went to open her mouth again but you sighed, reaching a hand to stroke her bubblegum hair back from her face. A red tint now accompanied the wet stains on her cheeks. She bit her lip hard, eyes darting all over your face before she wailed one last time and slumped over you like a cat.

Internally, you cried at the pressure that she put on your ribs, but covered it with a small smile on your face.

“Oi, you’re hurting her.”

Mitsuri leaped off of you in an instant, hands covering her mouth. With her no longer obscuring your view of the room, you could see Obanai stood motionless in the doorway. He quietly entered, closing the door behind him. His dull eyes roved your form for a second, before settling on your face.

“How do you feel?”

You bit your lip to stop from saying how you really felt. That was, complete and utter shit. Instead, you managed a small grin, watching as he came to sit on the edge of the bed. Mitsuri followed, climbing up onto the sheets and snuggling up close.

“Fine. How long have I been out?”

Mitsuri hung onto your arm for dear life, and you watched as her bottom lip wobbled.

“Two weeks now. I didn’t know if you were ever gonna wake up.” She said sadly, burrowing her head into the nook of your neck. From the side of your eye, you watched as Obanai rolled his eyes at the girl's words. With your free hand, you patted the love hashira on the back, hoping it gave her some sense of comfort. Craning your neck to the side, you averted your stare back to the Serpent Hashira, knowing he’d at least answer some of your questions without bursting into tears.

“What happened back there? I mean, I thought I was dead for sure.” You ended your words with a small laugh, but he didn’t seem to find them very funny.

“When Kanroji and I arrived, that demon was absorbing you from behind.” That explained the numbness in your back. “You looked as good as dead, hell you were dead. But somehow we managed to ward him off long enough to grab you and get you back here.”

He stopped talking, gaze assessing the look on your face. At your prolonged silence, Mitsuri popped her head up to look at your expression. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You didn’t kill it?” you asked slowly. Next to you, Mitsuri gulped. Obanai just looked at you. “You let it get away?” You insisted, neck cracking as you raised up onto your weak forearms. Mitsuri uttered words of warning but you ignored them, brows pulled tightly together. Your eyes flew between your fellow hashira, lips opening and closing in disbelief.

“That wasn’t the priority.” Obanai said simply. Your eyes focused on him. Besides you, Mitsuri hummed her agreement.

“Why?” you growled. “How was that not the priority? I fought that damn demon for hours. Okay? Hours. The two of you together could have beat him no problem, upper moon or not. And what, you just let it get away? This is our job! This is what we do! If we don’t kill these demons when we get the chance, how the hell are we supposed to ever stop Muzan, huh? Ubayashiki won’t be happy to hear this. I’m not happy to hear this!”

Mitsuri ducked her head, but Obanai’s gaze didn’t waver.

“Ubayashiki knows.”

You grit your teeth. “‘He knows’, that’s all you're gonna say? Why not explain your actions then! Explain why you let an upper moon get away when you were in the prime position to kill it!”

The raven haired man stayed silent this time, eyes finally falling to his lap.

But you weren’t done with this, no way. A heavy pressure bared down on your chest, stopping you from getting full lungfuls of air. All the pain did was remind you of what happened. Remind you that you nearly died. And for what? What did you almost die for, if the demon got away in the end? You said exactly this, watching as the two avoided meeting your eye.

“I swear to god,” you seethed. “You better tell me that you know where that demon went, or so help me…”

The silence gave you your answer.

Mitsuri sat up fully, eyes brimming with fresh tears. She took hold of your hand, bringing it close to her chest.

“We did it for you,” she babbled, tugging on the sleeve of your hospital jacket. “Please don’t be angry.”

You wrenched your hand away.

“Well I am! I am angry! How can you say -”

“Stop it,” Obanai suddenly snapped. Both Mitsuri and you shot your eyes to where he was now standing up. His gaze had hardened, fists clenched by his side. “Don’t get mad at her. She did nothing wrong. We had two options: kill the demon or save your life. Now, I don’t know if you have some suicidal tendencies or something but we made our decision and we chose you. It’s up to you if you can accept that or not, but there’s no going back, so just stop.”

“Obanai…” Mitsuri whispered but he kept his steely glare directed at you.

“That’s the problem,” you hissed, recovering from your initial shock. Out of all the hashira, Iguro was one of the quietest - rarely did he raise his voice or get angry like this. Nevermind that though, the beating in your head and the irritation you felt urged you on. “You made a dumb choice. That demon is gonna go and he’s gonna kill hundreds of more people. Why? Because you had a severe lapse in judgement? Is that why, Obanai?”

Obanai met your words head on, his eyes narrowing.

“Maybe it was a dumb decision,” he growled. “But it was our decision. Mitsuri and I. We chose you. You were more important in that moment. What about that can’t you understand?”

“Oh, I understand perfectly fine! I understand that there are two incompetent hashira among us that don’t understand where their priorities should lay. How's that for understanding?”

Mitsuri gasped quietly next to you but you didn’t dare tear your gaze away from the serpent hashira. If you could have seen his mouth, you swore he’d have been sneering at you in this moment. You watched as he took a few deep breaths, eyes shutting in what looked like exasperation.

“You.” He declared lowly. “You are our priority. And I am not going to apologise for saving you. Nor is Mitsuri. So, get. over. it.” The last words sounded like they were spoken through gritted teeth. Your nostrils flared.

“I am not your priority.” You argued, eyes blazing.

“That is not up to you to decide.”

“No? Well I just did! If you think… “ you started, voice beginning to rise. “If you think that my life is more important than taking down Muzan, then you're delusional. You’re crazy!”

“Do not put words in my mouth!” Obanai hissed back, Kaburamaru copying this sentiment.

Your eyes shot open as you laughed mockingly. “I’m not putting anything but the truth in your mouth!”

“Stop it!” Mitsuri cried, now standing as well. “Stop it, the both of you!”

Both your heads whipped towards the pink haired girl, who now had her hands clasped together as if she were about to get on her knees and beg.

“Mitsuri,” Obanai said softly, his tone doing a complete 180. “It’s her, not me.”

It’s a miracle your neck didn’t break at the speed in which you turned to glower at him. Your throat, still not completely healed, scratched with every word.

“Me? Are you kidding? It’s ME?” You were hysterical at this point.

Obanai didn’t concede.

“I don’t understand what your problem is. Really. This is pointless. What you’re saying is pointless!”

You were going to murder this man. You were going to have to commit seppuku for the war crimes that you were about to commit against him.

“Why!” You finally exploded. “I just want to know why you think saving me was your priority! Especially, when we both know that the right thing to do would’ve been to ditch me and kill that son-of-a bitch!”

This time, Obanai didn’t respond. You were panting, glare prominent on your face. Your ribs were hurting and all the shouting hadn’t helped the headache you were sporting. Off to the side, Mitsuri whimpered.

“Tell her, Obanai,” she murmured. He glared at her, then at you.

“No.” He said.

“Tell her,” she urged again.

You could quickly feel the rage swelling in your belly.

“Tell me what?” you croaked, voice ran raw. You wanted to shout and scream and demand answers, but you were so tired.

Obanai stayed quiet. Your eyes darted to Mitsuri now, who squeaked at whatever she saw in your gaze. Her hands fumbled nervously with the front of her uniform, teeth gnawing on her bottom lip. She shot a look at Obanai.

“We, um…” she started. On your other side, Obanai said something quietly. You didn’t hear, but Mitsuri clearly did as she grew a determined look on her face.

“‘Suri…” You warned.

No one spoke for a moment, before…

“We love you!” Mitsuri wailed, volume going unchecked as her face turned as red as hot coal.

You blinked, suddenly stumped for words. “Huh, you mean…Huh?”

Mitsuri started to cry again for whatever reason. You could only stare dumbly.

“I love you,” Mitsuri babbled between sobs. “He loves you too but he won’t say it!” She continued to cry.

When you looked back at Obanai, he refused to meet your eye.

A sudden knock on the door shocked you out of your stupor. Shinobu peeked her head inside, but immediately stopped as she took in all of your faces. Without a word, she quickly retreated, door slamming shut.

The room went dead silent, aside from Mitsuri’s quiet sniffles as she tried to gain control over her emotions.

Slowly, you started to speak, directing your words at Obanai as you did.

“Tell me that’s not true. It’s just Mitsuri being Mitsuri, right? Right.” He still didn’t look at you, silently shaking his head. You felt your chin wobble. “Don’t say that,” you protested. “Don’t say that!” You grew angry again, poking a finger into the snake pillar's chest. Your body turned to Mitsuri. “‘Suri you don’t mean that. Don’t say that, please. Please.”

She only smiled sadly. One of her hands reached out as if to comfort you, but you backed away into the pillow behind you. Your eyes widened in horror.

“Get out,” you crowed. “Get out, now!”

“What?” Mitsuri whispered.

“Get out of my room.” You stated, curling in on yourself. Mitsuri stepped forward, looking as though she didn’t know what to do with herself. Her eyes stared into yours, but it was like she wasn’t actually seeing you.

“You don’t mean that. You’re just tired, you need time to recover. You don’t… After everything, you can’t possibly mean to say…”

You choked on a sob, pulling the blankets higher over you. Bound by the cast, you did what you could to turn away from the both of them. Mitsuri said your name one last time but you covered your ears, tears finally springing into your eyes.

“Get out…” you murmured, too tired to do anything. Too tired to beg or yell or cry.

You heard as Obanai moved, saying something quietly to Mitsuri. Footsteps, then the door to your room closed and you were left all alone again.

Alone.

Maybe that’s all you’d ever be.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Do we want a part two to this? I kinda do lol

part two is out!!

#demon slayer #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #obanai x reader #mitsuri x reader #poly!demon slayer #angst #mitsuri x reader x obanai #x reader #mitsuri kanroji #obanai iguro #love hurts #aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

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doeeyeddyke · 1 year

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post Lazarus transfem Jay, where no one knows shit about her coming back until completely accidentally, partly bc she's not even the (sole) center of attention

Damian is sent to Gotham and is one day like btw I have some sisters and Bruce is like..... "Are They Mine" (Wait I Might Have Girls 🥺) (secret girldad Bruce for the win) and Damian is like.... Jane will be displeased if I say anything.... but I think Athanasia biologically is Father's..... but I don't want to lie..... hmmm...... "idk anyway look at the time doot di doot...."

Talia doesn't pick up when Bruce calls she's just like "girls go check if it's anything important or if he's just having a meltdown"

So now 2 sisters start popping up around more often to keep and eye out and check on Damian and one is super tall and buff and the other is much shorter and slighter but they call themselves twins even if short one says she's older and tall one is like "barely!! it doesn't count!!" which honestly yea they're sisters alright

That's how Black Swan and White Dove come to be known, Black Swan is quiet and seemingly ambivalent about the bats but White Dove sounds like she's about to beat the shit out of Batman and to a lesser degree Nightwing and seems vaguely displeased being around Tim's Robin but is cool with Spoiler/Batgirl (esp since she's gotten close to Black Swan and treats her well) and distantly polite to young Duke the very few times they meet

Tim's Robin: hey what's up with that

Damian:

Robin:

Damian: she has Issues With Men don't you know anything Drake smh leave her alone

Robin:

Robin: Oh. Yea ok that makes sense ig sorry man

Damian: don't tell her I said anything tho

(Damian to himself later: it's not Untrue but that's not exactly what's- wait ok that's kinda exactly what's going on here isn't it)

Btw Damian calls her Jane but her full name is Catherine Jane Columba (Mom's name + Jane Austen + Mom's hc maiden name) and she uses Jane with league sibs but CJ in general for everyone else

Anyway I imagine that Cass and Jane start hanging around more and are eventually considered neutral to friendly extension of batfam via Damian (and Athanasia and Mara when they're sent over) (Athanasia is sweet if a lil awkward and much younger than everyone else, Mara is very "You're Not My Dad just a sort of step uncle at best" but Bruce is like "omg,,, daughters,,,,")

Cass might even eventually come over for dinner or smth maybe as Steph's plus one and Dick would be like "omg I am going to big brother you so hard" and Bruce is like "are you sure you don't want to be my daughter" and Tim is trying to figure out if he can do his stalking out of affection and respect thing without getting his butt kicked and the Al Ghul kids are being absolute demons fighting for Cass' attention and trying to find out what Jane is upto

The Jane identity reveal can be totally anticlimactic (Damian says Jane wants to meet them and then at a scheduled dinnerthey meet a buff tall older female lookalike of the dead second Robin and they think "omg 😱 surprise older Todd sister no one knew about??" and Jane doesn't let anyone say anything bc she wants to see how long this lasts)

Or maybe there's some big fight or whatever or fear toxin is involved and a league sib is hurt and Jane unmasks to comfort and tend to them and Bruce or Dick (or even Alfred!) see her face and have a bit of an aneurysm and Jane's too distracted with big sister-ing to be too explicitly angry with the bats at the moment but makes a snappy remark or smth that gives her away ("miss me old man" /sarcastic and /derogatory if it's Bruce)

And uh yea anyway don't take this too seriously I'm half delirious and keep dissociating in turns and I just wanted an excuse for transfem Jason and ended up really loving CJ/Jane

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readreactrant · 6 months

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'Tale of Winter and Spring' another goyuu arranged marriage fic that might just become a fave despite some reservations of mine!!! Let me explain!!! (Rec Review and thoughts)

This review was so sweetly requested by the actual author and lovely mutual of mine @star2112 (really love their name for some reason). So with that context and their permission I'll be going a bit more in depth, and letting them know where I feel they could improve upon. I do keep in mind that many ao3 authors aren't from the pro writing background so I'll be super gentle.

But before we get to that I will give you a quick summary and listing out the fic's strong points (and there are a lot (✿ ♡‿♡)

CW for review and the story itself: there will be spoilers in this rev so if you want to read it before hearing my thoughts go ahead and follow the link in the title. The story involves mpreg, omegaverse and dub con.)

Tale of Winter and Spring is set in historical Japan as all good fics should be, where Yuuji is given away to Gojo by his older brother Sukuna. Thing is Yuuji is in love with next heir of the Zenin clan, Megumi and he's very, very, very unhappy with what's happening. Nevertheless he goes through it all with some very un-Yuuji like gloom )don't worry, we'll get to that). Its an ongoing fic so we don't know the end or which direction the plot itself is taking but for now there's a whole lot of intrigue and hints of Geto coming into the picture to ruin (or maybe not ruin) everything happening.

There's a handful of things that made this story a bit challenging to read but one of the many things I have to give props to is the development of the FushIta relationship side of Yuuji's story. I don't hate FushIta but it's one of many jjk ships that makes me grit my my teeth when it's not a side story in a goyuu ntr fic. So reading the development of their bond here… actually made me kick my feet a bit, is the author a FushIta shipper in disguise??? We'll never know ig ¯_(ツ)_/¯

There's the flashback scene where they're talking about books they read and after some banter Yuuji's like,

"hey megumi… in the future, let's go North, and see if those demons are real or not."

And I felt that, especially since Yuuji does end up going North (Gojo's Clan location if I remember correctly) but Megumi isn't there with him and it's much colder and lonely for him since he can't relate to Satoru at all.

Genuinely almost sobbed ಥ‿ಥ

Another thing I did enjoy was Sukuna's backstory and part of me really wanted more of it and him. It's said he got his hands dirty but I'd love to know what exactly this entails as it would really add more depth to the evilness of his character which is mostly told but not shown. It's easy to so say oh this character does evil things and imply that constantly but harder to display those evil things and show them doing the tragedies that solidify them in the reader's mind like 'yeah, this dude is the worst'. Example, Sukuna throughout the entirety of jjk lollll.

And there was an opportunity for the story to show one of such things which I'll get to in the critique part of this review.

I also really love the characterization which is very important you're making and alternate world. You don't always have to put characters in roles they'll fit but one thing I do like is when a they reflect that role with their canon personalities. And I know someone's already going "well fanon doesn't care about canon" which is fine and true but realistically many fanfic readers, myself included aren't into ooc content. What counts as ooc does vary from person to person tho, especially bc different people interpret characters differently.

Despite the various interpretations there is a common way a character is viewed and enjoyed, which is why, despite how much I enjoyed reading, there was something about Yuuji that constantly…called out to me.

I'm getting into the critique section now to talk about that. Where the writing shines in dialogue and interesting world building, it's kind of falls back in consistency.

Somewhere at the start, in the wedding scene, Utahime says they all have high expectations of Yuuji putting Gojo in his place with kind of indicates a firey kind of attitude but up until this point Yuuji has being quiet and avoidant and kind of continues to be until some of the later chapters. So it's weird she puts this responsibility on him when his character hasn't shown any signs of it. It's not one of more glaring instances but it's one that precedes a few others.

There's another part where Yuuji apologizes for speaking angrily, but Gojo says he doesn't have to because he knows he's the problem. Yuuji's internal thoughts proceed to view that as his apology being discarded which don't exactly make sense to me and ends up feeling like he's looking for reasons to be nitpicky at this point.

Character building isn't a huge problem but it's always the little things that manage add to the overall picture. There's a scene where Sukuna wants to take Yuuji to the Zenin clan and Wasuke doesn't want him to bc everyone thinks Sukuna wants to sell him off. Thing is Sukuna says he's not depraved enough to use an omega child like that but in my opinion it would have done his story and Yuuji's a greater service for him openly consider it and hold that over Yuuji's head for good behavior. He's evil, even if he'd actually never do it, evil people say evil shit.

With all this talk about characters it's time I finally expand on what really got to me and that would be Yuuji. My baby boy is literally all over the place. Yuuji canonically is a very social characters, eager to please and more ready than usual to give other's the benefit of a doubt. Here he's very quick to judge and overly guarded to me.

Now, I'm not saying has to overly friendly either but there's a balance that could struck with him not insulting or assuming things of Gojo constantly, and yeah the white haired bastard doesn't make it especially easy but one of Yuuji's admirable traits is his fortitude and patience with those around him.

Nevertheless, a part of me does think this was a stylistic choice to convey the disparity of Yuuji's behavior with his two love interests; Yuuji is only truly his best self with Megumi and the worst with Gojo. And understanding this, I was able to look past his behavior with the hope and interest of seeing both him and Gojo warm up to each other.

Also, did I mention it's still a mystery why Gojo asked for Yuuji's hand in marriage. Either that or it was mentioned that it's bc of his scent and I forgot (I've been through a lot this week forgive me (〒﹏〒)

My final critique is the writing structure and grammar. Grammar and writing are like 80% of a fic for me. If I don't vibe, no matter how interesting the concept I just might not read.

Thing is, I do vibe with Star2112's writing a lot, it simple yet beautiful in the way in which it conveys the emotions and moods of the story and characters. I enjoyed reading the scene where Yuuji freaks out cuz Gojo didn't spend the wedding night with him and now it may harm his reputation and Sukuna's. I enjoyed every FushIta interaction and I most definitely enjoyed when towards the ending of chapter 8, Yuuji allows Gojo to touch his belly and feel the baby while the Alpha spoke it (also Gojo wants to be a girl dad and that made me throw my phone across the room screaming cuz cuuuute (●♡∀♡)!!!!)

What I didn't enjoy was the structure of the sentences.

"Sentences work like this," Ren says. ✅

" Not like this, " They add. ❌

Figuring out how dialogue and quotations work are a big step for every author's writing journey, it's common not to know if you end with commas of full stops but for the most part, that doesn't really matter. Leave no spaces between the quoted sentence and the quotations marks and always start a new statement with a capital, doesn't matter if it was a continuation of what they were saying in a previous sentence.

Capital.

Grammar-wise, there were a lot of frequent errors but none to glaring and they could all be fixed with a more thorough read through. It can be pretty hard without a beta reader bestie but I believe you, there's so much talent for you not to give the best reading experience you're able to.

Overall, this is definitely a fic I would recommend to avid arranged marriage goyuu fans that love the DRAMA (and if you're like me who likes to read Megumi getting cucked, tho it's not exactly cheating here we'll manage ( ꈍᴗꈍ)💕

At the end of the day, a lot of this advice is partly objective, all authors are free to take what they feel they want to work on and leave the rest. Or leave it all because what matters about writing and fanfiction is that you enjoy what you do. Other's enjoying it is just a bonus/by product.

And to Star2112, you're doing so good, keep it up, I'm subbed and ready to see more, especially if I'll get to read goyuu raising their kid or kids, I'm a sucker for 'oop it's twins'. I'd also encourage you to read more books outside fanfic if you don't if you're still interested in dialogue and sentence structure. You have a strong voice and I think working on your weak points will really amplify that. I'm honored you came to me and hope I was able to help.

If anyone else wants to request, recommendations and reviews are kinda two different things. If you Recommend me a fic and I may or may not talk about it, depends. If you request I Review (for analysis and advice) a fic it has to be yours and you'll have to prove it to me. Depending on what you want I'll either write a post or just let you know my thoughts privately. DMs open so don't be shy.

Thanks for sticking to the end, go check out Star's work to get in on that action and happy Easter my precious freaks!!!

Ps: will edit this later, my brain is literally on fire, bye lovelies (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

#fanfiction #anime #ao3fic #ao3 author #jjk #gojo satoru #itadori yuuji #omegaverse #smut fic #jjk smut #fic writing #fic rec #goyuu #writeblr

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 years

Text

Left In Hell

Dream of The Endless x Musician!Reader

Summary: You left your harp in hell, and by the domain's laws, the item was quickly claimed by a demon. Your only hope of claiming it back was a bit of luck and a bit of Dream.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Insufferable!Dream, jittery!reader, gender neutral!reader, deity!reader ig, intense make out scene, typos, etc.

A/N: I originally posted this on my AO3 but yeah i wanted to bring this over here psssst a part two? "Sounds Like Heaven"

The hair on the back of my neck was raised. My stance was low as I carefully tread this annex of hell.

I let out a string of profanities once I saw exactly who was holding my instrument. I stilled in my creeping to hide behind a boulder near the swamp of torment when the demon looked over its shoulder.

I shuddered at the howls of help in the undead slurry of water and had to slap my hand on my mouth, as not to allow my squeaks from being heard.

In my anxiousness and fear, I topple backwards on my bum. I crawl away, breath hitching through my attempts to calm myself down.

I jolt up, startled when my hand pressed onto a dry branch, causing it to break with a loud crunching noise. Then I hold back a scream as I feel my back come in contact with something unanticipated.

I throw myself forward and whip my head back, in an attempt to see what I hit. Stupidly though, my frantic action nearly made me dive into the river.

I was blessed by the gods when something pulled me back and brought me to my feet.

I bring my hands up to my face in some sort of defense, although truly, it wouldn't matter, because whatever being hell would not be deterred by two fleshy limbs.

I find myself pressed against a chest with an arm around my back. I look back at the being that saved me then let out a sigh of relief, "it seems it's not the gods but the Endless that has delivered me."

Dream of the Endless, with his signature brooding look and gleaming yet tired eyes, peers down at me, inquiring with a dark tone, "what are you doing in hell?"

I place my palms on his firm chest and breathe in deeply before replying, "I was invited. The Lightbringer had always been fond of my music," I turn away from him, not bearing the weight of his gaze, "but then as I was about to leave, I realized I left my instrument."

Dream tilts his head.

"So, naturally, I came back for it, but by then a demon already laid claim on it, as it was technically already a lost item."

I hear his deep yet soft chuckle.

I make a twisted face of embarrassment and regret, and turn back to him, "I'm not causing trouble, I swear. Lucifer allowed me to retrieve my ha-my instrument, my instrument, my instrument, by my own power."

He hums then I realize I gave myself away by saying the words 'my instrument' a bit too much, "so it is your Harp of Dreamlight that got stolen?" He finally releases me, "no wonder you why you haven't begged me to help you the moment you saw my face."

"Please, my lord," I quickly change tune and grovel. I bend down and grab his coat, "there can be no forgiveness for losing your most precious gift, but surely, you cannot allow a demon make music with it."

The Lord of Dreams lowers his eyes to me, grabbing my arms, bringing me back to my feet, "the thought is most disturbing, and yet if I meddle, I would be overextending my power in a domain that is not mine."

"You wouldn't have to do anything," I shake my hand, gripping my hands on the lower part of his collar, "just allow me-- to..." I do a double take when I realize he had a raven on his shoulder. I raise my brows at the bird, "oh, hello. I hadn't noticed you there."

The raven squawks after I say my name in greeting, then replies, "I'm Matthew. I'd say it's nice to meet you, but considering we're in hell and all, I really can't."

I break into a soft chuckle, "that's true. I remember the first time I came here. It was horrible, I nearly couldn't-"

"This is exactly why you lost your harp in the first place," Dream cuts in, making me jolt in surprise and lower my gaze, "you are so fickle and so thoughtless that your focus so quickly fades."

I purse my lips at his harsh but true words as Dream brings his face down and further speaks, "well? What is your plan?"

I lift my eyes up to him and let out a nervous chuckle, "right, right. My plan. My plan. My plan." I grab his arm and point my finger very to the direction of the demon that was holding my harp closely by my chest.

Both Dream and I jerk when the demon begins to roughly rip through the chords of the instrument, playing it not only out of tune, but with such lack of care it breaks a string, then another.

I heave heavily and face the harp's maker, "That thing is a lust demon, so I was thinking I would flash it and make a run for it-"

"That is a reckless and horrible plan only one like you coul-"

"-but now that you're here!" I raise my voice, "we can just make out really, really roughly, and then Matthew could go fly over and grab it--"

"Matthew could what?!" Matthew repeats, "you are talking about that giant harp right?! There is no way I could."

"It turned giant because of that demon!" I exclaim a bit too loud because of my nerves, "it morphs itself to the size of the player. All you have to do is perch on it and-"

"You want me to perch on a harp next to a fucking mammoth demon!?"

"No!" I raise my hands and pull away from Dream to fully face the bird on his shoulder, "it's not a mammoth demon, it's a lust demon! I've never even heard of a mammoth demon!"

"I MEANT IT'S A LARGE DEMON! MAMMOTH AS IN LARGE!"

"Well how was I supposed to know that?!" I screech back.

"OI!" a cruelly loud voice calls, making all of us turn to the said demon that was holding my harp hostage, "WHAT DO YOU LOT WANT?!"

My eyes widen and my pulse quickens.

"No time," I squeak, shooing the bird away.

I then grab his master by the neck, pulling him down to crash my lips on him.

Matthew croaks in protest, flapping overhead, watching us kiss. He dares a look at the demon, and is honestly shocked to see that its angry face was now completely blank as the thing watched the two kiss before him.

He thinks about how weird and borderline disturbing this whole thing is.

My head was spinning because of the intimate exchange. Dream had placed his hands on my back and pulled me close. I had dug my hands in his already disheveled hair.

His lips were like wine I was getting drunk on. My body against him felt so at home even in a place such as this. And though I really didn't want to, I break away momentarily from the heated kiss to see how Matthew was fairing.

I let out a groan for two reasons, Matthew was still flying overhead, and Dream started kissing my neck.

"Matthew!" I whine out a plea as I looked up at him.

I squeak out in pain at the sudden nip at my earlobe. It seems Dream did not appreciate whatever I did, but I don't manage to do anything but melt against Dream's lips again as he presses his lips on mine.

I don't know if I was beginning to hear things, which would not be farfetched, considering there are echoes of misery here, but I could have sworn it was Dream that grumbled something along the lines of, "dare you say the name of another while kissing me?"

Nah.

That's probably all in my head.

I then squeak at the sudden shift in our stance; I was being lifted up by my thighs. His grip was firmly encouraging my legs to snake their way around his waist.

Matthew, at this point, finally makes way to the harp, heaving in both fear and tiredness, since he could not bring himself to fly high enough, lest he be caught up in the fog of wraiths above him.

True enough, once he perches on the harp, it rapidly begins to shrink.

"Boss!" Matthew croaks, "I got it," he says, beginning to fly off.

Instantly, Dream releases my lower lip, which he had caught in between his teeth, and my mind begins to spin.

I barely even register the sand that was suddenly swirling around us.

The next thing I know, there is a light that is irritating my eyes.

I turn back to Dream, nibbling my lips at the sight of his bitten ones, feeling my stomach flip at the sight of his eyes that were looking down at my lips.

"I got it," Matthew proudly calls again, flying over to us with a small harp hanging from his two claws. It was his voice that brought my back to reality, or so I realized as I was let down on the floor, to the main hall of the Dreaming.

I look up to Matthew as flies down to place the harp on the floor. I release a breath and crouch down to meet Matthew eye to eye, "thank you so much." I stand, then turn to Dream, whose heavy gaze was already on me. I am unable to croak out thanks at the unsorted looks of him.

"My Lord, I had not realized you have retur--" the voice of Lucienne echoes in the grand expanse of the room.

I turn to the speaker, breaking into a smile, "Lucienne! It's been a while!"

The librarian's eyebrows quirk as her eyes dart between her master's face and her master's guest. She decides not to remark on the swollenness of their lips and the unusual roughness of her master's hair, and instead readies herself with the incoming embrace.

I jog over to her and pull her into my arms.

She smiles back at me after I break away, then says, "the whole of Dreaming will be pleased to know of your visit."

"Yes, it's been a while since these halls have echoed with Dreamlight," I say, turning to Dream, who looked suddenly back to normal-- hair in its normally wild state, and lips not at all swollen, then to my harp, heart sinking at the sight of it's broken strings, "but I'm afraid I can't play you anything while its strings are broken."

I turn back to Dream and move to and fro on the pads of my feet, "unless, that is, I get some help-" "are you asking me for yet another favor, harpist?" Dream's voice booms across the expanse of what felt like the entire Dreaming.

"NO!" I squeak quickly, raising my hands up, "no, no! Psssssh," I shake my head quickly, "not at all. I can," I sigh, "collect my own materials in the abyss..." and turn to my feet with a painful look, "and forge my own strings by myself."

"Very good," Dream states, "I do hope you accomplish it quickly so you can perform for us all soon."

With that, he turns about and walks away, saying something about being terribly busy. And yet even if it was unwise to do so, I could not help myself to raise my fist at him in annoyance as I watched him leave.

#dream of the endless #sandman fanfic #dream of the endless fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #dream x you #dream of the endless x deity!reader #dream x deity!reader #the sandman fanfic #sandman fluff #the sandman fluff #dream fanfic #morpheus x reader #morpheus fanfic

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