mira-selfships

[mira-selfships]

the tiger and his milk! 🐯

in this world, a certain tiger hybrid male keeps a keen eye on a cow hybrid female next door...

warnings; female reader, inaccurate?omegaverse, lactation without pregnancy, animal-human hybrid AU (but theyre more human than animal tbh just imagine them with ears and a tail), heat and rut, breeding, alcohol as aphrodisiac, bullying of the cervix, tit sucking, nipple teasing, biting, dry humping, overstimulation, sexual frustration, neighbours-with-benefits, knotting, f!masturbation, lots of cum, this is straight up just a hxntai oop

word count; 6.5k

dividers by @/saradika-graphics and @/thecutestgrotto

do NOT expect a serious and well-paced writing from this one, i was horny and the end result is just.... this. sorry not sorry, I AM WARNING YALL; this is one degenerate ass fic also forgive me for any inaccuracies in any of the tropes i used, i just cherry picked the parts i wanted and mixed it all together so...

moving to this new neighborhood hasn't been all too easy for you.

being a little low on money aside, there's a certain rambunctious neighbour who won't leave you alone. he playfully terrorises you with threats to eat you up, and makes comments that all go straight to your head, making you feel weak and flustered, leading you to cower beneath him. though you should firmly tell him to cut it out, you struggle to do this when you’re dealing with someone who could be a natural predator of yours, had you been an actual sow and not a hybrid. 

that, and also-

strangely, there's a part of you that doesn't despise the way he treats you. in fact, when you see his large, brutish hands and the veins that run up his arms, you feel yourself squeezing your thighs together. you brush it off as it being a result of your apparent loneliness and sexual frustration. there's nothing good that'd come out from being with such a discourteous man.

setting that aside... there are numerous other problems that you've been having to deal with, recently.

your breasts have been collecting milk faster, and much more than usual, recently.

even for cow hybrids, milk should only be produced when the female is pregnant, and for only a year or two at most after giving birth. for some unknown reason, you produce it all year round, even without needing to have children. doctor after doctor you've visited, and all they've told you is that you're a strange anomaly. there is nothing you can do about it except extract it every now and then, to relieve the pain and swelling.

tonight, that is what you're planning on busying yourself with, once you get home from your shitty office job.

walking towards your porch with a deep sigh, you hear a deep voice call out to you.

"bad day at work, dollface?" your terrible neighbour-- sukuna, he's called, asks you with a cigarette in his hand dressed in jeans and a black tanktop. his tail swishes playfully behind him.

dollface. one of the few nicknames he uses condescendingly to refer to you. it's either dollface, doll, or sweetheart, and you don't recall ever hearing him actually use your name.

"um, work was alright... thank you for asking. have a good evening."

you like to make things short and stop any further conversation from happening, even though it might come off as a little awkward. one of sukuna's ears flick at your dry response, but he doesn't seem to bother you any further as you hurriedly unlock your front door and head inside.

sukuna drops his cigarette bud on the ground, and puts out the flame by stepping on it. you're not very sociable, as per usual...

but your sweet, passing scent makes for a little growl to rise in the back of his throat. sweet milk. that's what you always smell like. how curious. how tempting.

once you're home, you immediately grab your breastmilk pump that sits beside your sink. it hasn't been too long since you last cleaned it. you unhook your bra, and grimace at the wet stains on it, from leaking bit by bit throughout the day.

you press the pump up against one of your breasts and press the on button. it starts doing it's job. you sigh from relief, and watch as it fills up quite quickly. you wonder what you should do with all of it...

you stop the pump to empty it out into a glass bottle. it's a tedious process. sometimes... sometimes you wish you had a partner who could help you with it. sometimes, you wish someone would latch their mouth on and extract you directly-

what if he-- sukuna- did that for you? forcefully held you down and-

your eyes widen and your tail droops with shock at your own intrusive thoughts. heavens, no! you need to get yourself a partner. it's been too long. you hope you're not heading into heat already? it's not time for that yet, at least not according to your usual cycle. shaking your head as you extract the remnants of the milk from your breasts, you finish up quickly.

at least tomorrow, it will be saturday.

you'd forgotten about how overgrown the grass in your front yard had gotten. so, even though it's a saturday, and despite how you'd love to stay inside with all the curtains shut and doors locked tight... an unpleasant duty calls outside.

but despite the meticulous preparation of lathering enough sunscreen over yourself in protection against the sun's rays - the lawn mower suddenly doesn't want to heed to your calling.

your face scrunches up into a frown. darn thing.

the useless machine splutters and makes an obnoxious noise only in the beginning before giving out, no matter how many times you try to rev it back up again.

"goddamn it. you stupid thing," you mutter under your breath, crouching down to inspect it.

"need help?"

sukuna leans against the fence that is shorter than his own height, watching you with amusement. he'd been observing you for quite a few minutes by now.

"no thank you. i'm quite alright..." you respond without turning back. you know damn well whose voice that belongs to.

but does he listen? of course not! you hear the noise of the man easily bypassing the fence by elegantly hopping over it, before walking over towards you. how funny, even the fence fails to serve it's purpose in this moment.

"like that's believable. you think verbally degrading it will make it work?" sukuna snorts, coming around and shooing you away from the lawn mower.

he gives it a nice big rev, but not much happens. you smile slightly, wondering if he was going to make a fool of himself, after all that big attitude.

sukuna brings his foot against the side of the machine and gives it a hard kick. the sound startles you.

and now it's starting up nicely, and beginning to do it's job.

the man begins to mow your lawn for you, without another word. you stand around, not knowing what to do... your ears flicker as you stare at him doing your job for you. it feels odd. what is he up to?

well... no matter the hidden motive, it's true that he's doing you a huge favour. perhaps you should at least make a cold beverage for him, once he finishes with your yard. after observing him for a while, you head back inside to search for what would serve as an appropriate iced drink.

by the time you've stepped back outside, the yard is cut neatly and sukuna is in the midst of returning your lawn mower to your garage.

you silently hand him over his drink, and he takes it with a smirk.

"it's gone..." he suddenly comments.

"what's gone?" you question, with a raised eyebrow.

"that sweet smell that always surrounds you."

he proceeds to down his drink very quickly, not breaking eye contact with you. then, he starts chewing on the ice, tail swishing mischievously behind him.

"i... don't know what you mean." you cross your arms.

"hmm. playing dumb, i see. that's fine, i suppose."

you stand awkwardly with him in silence, simply listening to him crunching away on the ice. the heat from the sunlight gets more and more unbearable.

"if you're done with your drink... i think i'll start heading back inside now. thank you for your help today," you tell him politely, carefully taking your cup back from his hands.

he makes it seem like he's handing it over to you obediently, but then he tightens his grip against it when you're holding onto the glass, making you stare up at him in confusion. he pulls it back, so that you stumble closer to him.

"just letting you know. if you need any help, you can always ask me."

you're a bit nervous, but you try not to show it. does he know something? how much does he know? you feel your tail cowardly fall in between your legs. sukuna's ears give a light flick, but you don't know what that means.

"...we're neighbours, after all."

you look at him with distrust, holding onto your cup tighter. your gaze is unwavering as you meet his eyes.

"sure. i'll keep that in mind," you respond slowly.

seemingly satisfied, he lets go of your glass.

"thanks for the drink. see you."

it's a short backhanded wave he gives you, before he hops over the fence again. you narrow your eyes. just what kind of fence is this useless? can't even keep away one bad, bad man. you're not sure how much he's caught onto, but you sure hope he stops being interested in you with enough time. he easily sends odd tingles down your spine, and you don't like that one bit.

not at all...

the working part of an office job isn't actually that bad.

it's the people involved around you that makes it a living hell. nothing gets your blood pressure higher than your collusive colleagues and snobby superiors - especially the lazy ones who do everything to shove their workload onto other people.

such people are yet also, annoyingly obsessed with get-togethers and teamwork, which makes you laugh.

today is such an unlucky day, that you've been dragged off to an after-work gathering at some cheap restaurant with your shitty coworkers, all because one of them decided that they needed one.

nothing like being surrounded by a bunch of people that you hate, on a wednesday evening. you have to put on a fake smile, and remain the passive, agreeable coworker in this environment. they coerce you to drink more alcohol. you want to decline, but you feel as though you'll ruin the mood if you turn them down. you down a few pints of beer.

you can feel your breasts leaking again.

just let me go home, you think to yourself, for the fifth time in a row.

your wish is only granted after an hour or two later. you're still sober, maybe a little tipsy, seeing as you can feel the heat in your face from the alcohol. your body is probably not taking it very well today.

the first thing you do when you get home is washing your hands and settling down with your little trusty pump. when you undo your bra, you sigh in relief as your chest feels free. and also...

it's probably the alcohol acting as an aphrodisiac - you're a bit more sensitive tonight. you caress the swell of your breast and groan, your horniness overriding how tired you are. your other hand wanders down your panties, and your ears droop down.

you purse your lips together and let your fingers work against your clit for an orgasm that you know will be unsatisfactory, but you chase after such pleasure regardless. your breaths quicken, and you tilt your head back, closing your eyes. nearly there...

just when you were about to reach your first high of the night, a firm knock is heard from your door. just your luck. a ruined orgasm.

who can it be, at this time of the evening? you throw on a cardigan that just barely covers you up, and boldly stomp towards the door, irritated. you could give this person just about any piece of your mind.

but when you open the door, you're met with your most cunning and bothersome of a neighbour, sukuna. maybe it's because you're hornier than ever right now - you feel as though he looks even...hotter, tonight. his scent makes you dizzy.

sukuna had come by because he needed an ingredient for his dinner.

he wasn't expecting to be met with the eye candy that is your slightly disheveled self, with one hand keeping your loose cardigan together, while you're very obviously braless, judging by your nipples jutting out against the fabric. that, and the thick smell of your arousal that hit him right when the door had opened.

"wh-what do you want?" you ask, a little breathless, trying to keep it together.

sukuna looks down at you, trying to keep himself calm. this seems amusing. he doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself from tenting his pants soon, if he stays around you longer...

"you look like you were busy with something... sorry to interrupt," he voices slyly, his fangs showing when he smiles.

"just... get on with it, please," you frown, your legs squeezing together. you can never tell what he's thinking - whether he knows everything or if he's pretending to know everything.

"nothing much, just ran out of salt at home. could i get some of yours?" sukuna shrugs innocently, holding up his empty salt jar.

"hold on a second."

you turn around to button your cardigan up with a sigh of annoyance, and you tell him to come in while you grab your salt from the kitchen.

once sukuna steps inside, he observes a million details at once. the very first thing he sees is your little pump that you'd forgotten to put away there. there's no way that puny thing is enough for you, is it?

in your kitchen, you grab your jar of salt, and attempt to open the thing - but your arms feel like jelly at the moment. you grit your teeth and try harder, cursing at yourself for shutting it so tight the last time you used it. you begin to strain your arms further. sukuna marvels at this excellent opportunity he is granted.

your feelings of irritation are whisked away when a pair of hands gently land on top of yours, against the jar. his fingertips reach the lid through the gaps between your own fingers. you feel the bigger man's body warmth, when he comes around from behind. it makes you feel so weak. your tail is hanging off to the side, raised high.

sukuna applies a bit of pressure, and the jar comes off easily. you note how warm his large hands feel.

"i came here for the salt, but now i'm thinking maybe i won't need it anymore..." he whispers down at you. your ears can't help but flicker from his voice.

"what... do you mean by that?" you ask, not knowing what to think.

he guides your hands to put the salt down on the counter. and then his body presses up against yours a little harder. you can feel his growing boner against your behind, and you feel lightheaded. sukuna peers down longingly at the exposed side of your neck.

your pheromones mix with his, and his fluffy tail curls around your leg, almost possessively. sukuna's hands are still holding onto yours, and you feel your breaths get more laboured by the tension.

"i promised to lend my help, didn't i? c'mon..." he coaxes, speaking closely so that his breath grazes against the skin of your neck.

you feel yourself starting to sweat a little more - his body heat is just too much. your chest is uncomfortably full, and the thought of someone sucking on your sensitive nipples is enough for you to finally cave in, and play the fool for the night.

you break free from his grasp for a moment, and hesitatingly point to your couch.

"...sit. it's probably easier on the couch," you tell him, not looking his way. and now you're even shoving him towards it, impatiently.

"my, how demanding," he comments teasingly. he knows you purposefully broke the tension - to prevent him from taking the lead. but he obediently takes a seat on your couch. following that, you awkwardly mount him and sit on his lap.

sukuna watches with a softer smirk as you unbutton yourself again, revealing your leaky breasts with a flustered look on your face. sukuna's hit with that familiar sweet scent that's always been floating around you all this time - but now, it's right in front of him, in full force. it makes his mouth water. he was right about you lactating.

"....go ahead," you tell him shamelessly, yet still sorely embarrassed, cheeks feeling so warm that you're concerned you might pass out. "just be gentle," you warn him, looking at him with a little hesitation and pursed lips.

sukuna feels his cock twitch against you, and he wonders if you can feel it too, from the way you're sitting right on it. his own face feels quite flushed - any man would be the same if they were in his position. such a pretty thing in his lap, willingly undoing her buttons for him. he's never seen tits more beautiful than yours.

"hurry-" you breathe out, impatient, and moreover, shy from the way he's shamelessly admiring your face and chest with a dumb smirk plastered on his face.

not even a millisecond after you say it, he puts his searing hot mouth around one of your nipples. your brain ceases to function as a zap runs through your body, and you whine without meaning to, your back arching against the couch. though you grab at his shoulder, your other hand claps over your own mouth to muffle your moans.

the suction of his mouth does wonders for pleasure, nothing like the dull feeling that your mechanic pump gives. you hear his throaty growls as he sucks on your nipple, getting a mouthful of the taste of your sweet milk. you shudder under him, becoming pliant with his touch.

sukuna bathes in your warmth and the softness of your breasts, enjoying how he is able to breathe in your scent from this close. your milk isn't like anything he's ever had before. not too sweet and yet not bland - a taste that is unique to you...

his other hand squeezes your other nipple, making sure it isn't too lonely from his touch. you jerk your hips against him, whole body twitching from the pleasure, the joy of having your tits milked by someone else rather than yourself. you can't hold your moans back any longer.

"fuck... oh please..." you mumble, feeling your breast being drained of it's milk.

he stops sucking for a moment, and you see the beautiful but subtle blush on his cheeks, as he looks up at you like he's intoxicated. he lets his tongue out and flicks it up and down your erect nipple, rolling it around the areola. it makes you whimper and tremble in his lap.

"don't... tease me..." you say through gritted teeth, frowning at him while he merely chuckles at your reaction.

sukuna attaches his mouth to your other breast, as it's leaking so much - as if to beg him to drain it next.

your cunt is pulsing so bad, and you feel yourself drenching your panties already. you subconsciously grind down against him and his obvious boner, trying to relieve yourself, desperate to reach a proper orgasm this time. both of you are in a lusty haze, unconcentrated eyes, you're lost in pleasure and he's lost in the taste of you, your breast milk dripping down his chin as he messily gulps down with greed.

sukuna also bucks his hips up against you, cock straining in his pants - god, he's so hard that it hurts. when was the last time he's felt such a way? he breathlessly sucks and slurps everything out of you, feeling the milk pass down his throat and into his stomach. he could drink this shit forever.

he wants to cum. he's gonna fucking cum. into his pants no less, like a damn virgin. with the way you're rolling your hips around and grinding down on him like a whore, its only a matter of time.

"haah... sukuna... more- do it more," you plead, relishing in the pleasure of having your tits taken care of, while you get yourself off on his very obvious erection - rubbing your clothed cunt against him. it feels so good on your sensitive clit, you're gonna lose your damn mind.

sukuna doesn't pry his lips away from your nipple, but his hands come off your breasts - you feel his arms wrap around your waist instead, holding you down against him tightly, guiding your hips and helping himself dry hump you harder while his face is still all up in your tits.

your breathing quickens even further, and you grab fistfuls of his shirt on his back, shutting your eyes in anticipation-- before letting your orgasm crash over you completely. you gasp as your clit throbs intensely, and you feel slick leaking all over in your panties as you ride your climax out against sukuna's hard cock, shuddering as you do so.

sukuna groans with his mouth still on your breast, his orgasm coming a little later than yours, dick twitching as rope after rope of his cum soils his boxers, hips bucking up into you without control - it feels so restricted in his shorts, and he desperately wants to take it out. his lips finally leave your swollen nipple with a little pop sound. his large hands come to grope the soft flesh as he comes off his high, a dull throb ringing in his cock, one orgasm being far from enough.

"look at you, rubbing your cunt all over my cock to get yourself off, like a proper slut. aren't you a little too eager?" he teases breathlessly, with a weak smirk on his face.

"you're the one... that came onto me so strongly..." you pant, drunk from the waves of pleasure you just received, and from the endless twitching of sukuna's giant cock... he's still hard.

"just admit that you're perverted. arguably, even worse than what i am," sukuna mocks, pinching at your nipples, making you wince.

"shut up, you."

in the spur of the moment, you lift your hips up slightly to shove your hand down his pants to take his dick out due to irritation. sukuna gives the slightest flinch from the sensation of your hand, grabbing onto his now bare erection.

you begin to fiercely jerk him off with a frown on your face, wanting to punish him for his comments a few seconds ago, knowing he's still sensitive from his recent orgasm.

"fuck-! what're you-" he cuts his own voice off with a choked off gasp due to the tight grip of your hand against his twitching cock. he's back to bucking his hips again as you pump up and down with both hands, his dick already being lathered with his own cum making it easier for you. the noises that come out of him almost fills you with pride - and also surprise. you'd never thought that someone like him would ever moan in this way... you jerk him off faster, and a little harder, being fixated on his pretty looking cock that keeps jumping in your hands.

"shit! that's- enough-" sukuna gasps again, chest heaving and whole body jerking, but oddly, not attempting to stop you at all.

you watch in awe, as his cock spurts out several strings of white cum once again, his head tilted back with deep groans, dick pulsing - your hands keep away from it for the first few seconds just to observe, but then you help to milk it dry, grabbing his base and slowly stroking up and down. he shudders from your touch, and the sight of him being so sorely sensitive makes you feel your heartbeat in your pussy again.

he really does cum a shit ton. it goes for what seems to be like ages, never ending pulses of his cock and rope after rope tainting your hands, and his own stomach. the way he shivers before you, how captivating his groans sound, it all makes you want to do it all over again.

you slowly rub his tip against your palm, playing with his dick as if it were a toy - but this time, he grabs your wrist to stop you.

"enough..." he says with a low voice - and the look that he gives you sends a shiver down your spine.

he's beginning to smell a bit different. its not like before. and it's getting thicker by the second...

"ah, fuck.... i'm in rut," sukuna admits with a scowl, and a flushed face.

the realisation hits you like a truck.

"look at what you've done," sukuna growls as he grabs your hips and pushes you closer towards him, his cock impossibly harder. he's breathing heavily, and you see the precum that's gathering on his tip. he won't be able to hold himself back much longer, and you know it.

and curse the omega in you - you're unable to resist him, and you can feel yourself syncing with his rut, a strange swoop occurring in your stomach. his strong pheromones make you lightheaded and feverish, instigating your submissive side as you become obedient - sitting on his lap with an eager shine in your eyes, breathing heavy from his strong scent and your desire to be dominated.

you want to have your brains fucked out. you can't take it anymore.

as if reading your mind, sukuna lunges forward and practically throws you onto your back on your couch - you let out a yelp and watch as he pulls your shorts and panties down and casts them aside, stripping you completely. you feel so vulnerable, but his intense strength and desperation is only adding to your arousal.

he pushes your knees up and rubs his cock up against your clit, and puckering hole.

"look at all this slick. you want me that bad huh?" sukuna remarks darkly, sweat gathering on his temples.

you grit your teeth, fighting the urge to give him a meek response - having the strange desire to provoke and set him off until the end.

"you're the desperate one here..." you tell him breathlessly, sensing how his dick is practically begging to be inside you, with the way it twitches on your cunt.

your blood runs cold for a second, when you see the way he looks down at you, with a vein popping out on his forehead.

"...maybe i am," he relents, with a low voice, grabbing your face.

and then he leans down to shove his lips against yours, while thrusting his cock into you at the same time.

you whimper into the kiss as his tip hits your womb like nothing. you'd ignored how massive he was at the start, but now it's impossible to brush off.

"t-too big..." you mumble when he breaks away from your lips.

sukuna groans as he drags his cock in and out of your sopping cunt, practically holding him in an iron grip from the suction. your endless amount of slick coats his dick with plenty of lubricant to fuck you more easily.

"you can take it, doll. i'll make you take it..."

his eyes dilate as he begins to piston his hips at a fast but uneven pace, groaning shamelessly as his cock ravishes your pussy by hitting all the right places, heavy balls smacking against your ass with every thrust. the pleasure runs through your veins like electricity, and you feel high off the feeling of someone so big and strong using you like you were his fleshlight - to relieve his rut.

you can barely breathe from the way he pounds you, relentlessly pushing you to the limit, tears forming in your eyes and high pitched moans coming from your throat.

"ohh-! sukuna... oh, please please please..." you plead, almost sobbing.

he responds by leaning down to lather his tongue against your scent glands, sucking on them and rest of the skin on your neck. you shudder and let out another set of whimpers - and sukuna's fangs feel antsy, wanting to sink them into your flesh.

sukuna aims for the sweetness from your breasts, to distract himself. you cry out as he roughly latches onto your nipple and begins to suck as he squeezes your soft flesh. his cock feels like it's about to burst.

when he stimulates your nipples a certain way and his tip grazes your g-spot at the same time, you're hit with an orgasm that makes you squeal and has your cunt fluttering uncontrollably.

his dick gives in to the sudden milkings of your pussy and sukuna pushes his hips to settle himself into you as deep as he can - giving a choked off groan from the sudden climax as his cock swells up inside of you, anchoring itself.

the knowledge of him knotting you doesn't seem to matter as you enjoy the feeling of the warm gush of his cum pouring into your womb, his balls clenching with every rope that spurts out, messily coating your walls with white.

sukuna pants so heavily above you, abs flexing as he continues to orgasm in your warm cunt that still has a dull pulse from your previous climax. he nuzzles into the crook of your neck with a soft growl, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

your breathing relaxes as you lay still on the couch while sukuna weighs you down and breeds you properly, consequences be damned. you could try and fight him off, but it's been so long since you've been so sexually satisfied that your logical thinking has turned itself off. all you want to do is enjoy bathing in the pheromones of your alpha and let the heaviness of his large body drape over yours as he pumps you full of his babies.

sukuna is usually very careful about who he's around when he's in a rut - and he's always made sure either he or his partner had some sort of protection on before doing anything. he wouldn't want to go around having kids with the wrong people. it's hard to say whether you're wrong or right for him - he doesn't know much about you to judge yet...

but you make him feel so right.

and he's still fighting off the urge to mark you to make you officially his, with drool beginning to run down his chin. his fangs are making it unbearable; he needs to bite something right now.

"you look restless..." you tell him, getting him to tear his gaze away from your neck, to your face instead.

you pull him in for a messy kiss, slipping your tongue into his mouth. he feels the way you brush over his fangs, paying extra attention to them as you make out with him, and it makes him groan. you must have done this with someone else before. sukuna nips at your tongue and lower lip, doing his best not to break skin - trying to relieve himself of the urge to bite.

the swell of his knot is gradually subsiding, but you know that the night is far from over.

"which way to your bedroom?" sukuna asks after breaking away from your kiss, breathlessly.

"farthest down the corridor, past the kitchen.." you respond, feeling a little needy after he abruptly stopped the kiss like that.

"hold onto me."

he lifts you up easily with his arms, and you wrap your legs around his waist, arms over his shoulders. the display of strength makes your heartbeat quicken.

when you're laid upon the soft mattress of your bed, his lips come crashing down again - while his hips begin to give shallow thrusts, cock still hard and throbbing. sukuna kisses you like he's a man starved, and you feel as though he might actually swallow you up at this rate.

the strong grip on your hips tighten as his pace gets rougher. you have to break away to gasp and moan. every time he jostles your body, you feel his previous heavy load sloshing inside you, and it's getting too much. sukuna doesn't look like he's even entirely here, hips moving mindlessly and drool dripping down his chin - it's a terrifyingly arousing sight.

he tries to come down and kiss you again, but you have to push his face away - you're so out of breath that you're afraid you might pass out if he does that again. it's overwhelming, how his thick cock bullies itself against your walls over and over again.

sukuna doesn't seem too pleased that you're pushing him away; he holds you tighter and he adjusts his hips to fuck you deeper. you mewl loudly, but keep your hand weakly against his face - he doesn't force it away, but lets his tongue droop out, caressing your fingers with it. you feel him bite and suck on your hand as his sharp thrusts produce small bulges in your stomach.

you witness his eyes dilating again, and you swear you see hearts in them this time, your fingers still in his mouth.

his dick feels so, so good in your pussy. your intoxicating smell now surrounds him after coming into your bedroom, and it's driving him insane. he grunts above you, balls feeling heavy, dick pulsing as his tip finds its way knocking on your cervix. there's a thick ring of cream foaming on the base of his cock now, a mixed concoction of both his cum and your slick.

his thrusting gets sloppy and his hips stutter, meaning that he's going to orgasm again. sukuna's eyes roll back, as he messily "kisses" your hand, pushing himself balls deep into you at the final moment.

you arch your back at the sensation of his knot swelling up once again, cumming at this moment. sukuna almost topples over from the tightness, as the walls of your cunt flutter around his knot, effectively squeezing everything out of him.

"f-fu-uuck..." he drones out, his voice dragging the curse word out.

you feel him dumping every drop into your poor womb, emptying his balls. you're afraid that you'll get addicted to this "full" feeling, the warmth of his seed filling you up, the way your insides can feel his cock twitch violently with every thick string of cum he shoots out. you never imagined being held down and inseminated would feel this good.

sukuna's eyes are half-lidded, pleasure continuing to run up and down his spine. he pins your wrist down against the bed suddenly, and latches his mouth to one of your breasts - beginning to suck immediately, like he's trying to rehydrate himself with your milk. you shudder. it seems as though he's doing nothing but take, take, and take from your body... not that you'll stop him from doing so.

you run your fingers through his soft hair, catching your breath, slightly trembling each time he sucks a little too hard. shortly after he is seemingly content, he completely collapses his body over yours, face all up in your breasts, purring while his knot still sits inside of you.

you sense that it's only the beginning of a long, long night.

once the sun has rolled into the sky, you finally remember the fact that the weekdays haven't finished yet - and that you're supposed to be getting ready for work right now.

problem is, there's a certain someone clinging to your whole body from behind, still purring against the nape of your neck with a hand lazily groping the flesh of your tit. you can feel his fluffy tail curling around yours, possessively. you're sleepy, and his stupid purring keeps coaxing you to take a nap. he's a lot more docile and softhearted than you imagined. you supposed he'd be out of your house by now.

you reach out and feel around to grab your phone, to give your workplace a call to take the day off. while you're on the phone, sukuna places soft kisses down your back. you hope your boss can't hear the excessive vibration in the background. once you're done with that, you shove your phone under your pillow.

"i need a nap... you can use my shower, or go home, whichever you prefer," you tell him sleepily, shutting your eyes.

"is sleeping next to you also an option?" he asks from behind you, snuggling up closer.

"mm," you reply mindlessly, already dozing off. he slips his arm under your head. admittedly, his arm pillow does feel comfortable.

when you next wake up in a few hours time, you don't know what to feel when you notice that he's still next to you in bed.

"finally awake?"

"yeah... i'm surprised you haven't left," you mumble, following that with a yawn.

"i'm surprised you're not chasing me out," he shoots back.

"what would be the point? i'll see you again the moment i step outside the house."

"i bet you love that. being able to see me all the time," sukuna teases, twirling a strand of your hair with his finger.

"ugh, think what you will," you roll your eyes, trying not to be flustered.

you suddenly realise how thirsty and hungry you are.

"i'm starving... i don't remember what's in the fridge," you mumble to yourself.

"hop in the shower with me and i'll take care of all your meals today," he offers, smirking.

you don't really trust his intentions - especially something as intimate as showering together - but you are famished, and you don't think you will be bothered to cook at all today.

"what meals are we thinking?" you ask, curious.

"hm. well, how about steak?"

"... is that a threat?"

sukuna bursts into laughter.

he informs you that the salt he had originally wanted from you was supposed to be for the steak he was cooking last night. who knew that he'd be having a different kind of steak that evening? you look unamused as he makes the joke between chuckles.

unsurprisingly, you do end up in the shower with him, and again, unsurprisingly, he does pay extra attention to soaping up your tits in particular, and making out with you a little here and there. but as promised, you are rewarded with possibly the best meals you've ever had since you moved to this neighbourhood.

after a bit of conversation, turns out the man is a freelance chef, which is something you would've never guessed. from first glance, he seemed like he could've been part of some gang or a shady underground business.

when you sheepishly apologise for misjudging him based on his looks, sukuna laughs once again, and tells you that he'll forgive you if you let him continue to "help you out" from here onwards...

the rest is in dot points bc im lazy!

originally, i had wanted to make this a bit more toxic but i turned it more wholesome bc i felt like ive already posted toxic stuff before this so haha...

btw you do a few pregnancy checks while sukuna is still there after that night, and it turns out negative. it's a big sigh of relief for you and while it should be the case for sukuna too, since he's never really liked the idea of having kids, for some reason there's the tiniest twinge of disappointment...

anyway - after this, their relationship turns into a weird mix between friends with benefits and ?lovers, semi slow burn

often crashing in each others beds and sharing meals, but also having periods where you won't see one another for a week or so when life gets busy

thing is, you always try and tell yourself that you'll only use him to relieve the swell in your breasts, but it's never the case. things always go out of control and you end up bouncing on his cock without thinking of the consequences.

and he can't stop himself from teasing you everytime, those tits of yours could kill a man, he swears. sukuna gets extremely touchy with them, grazing his fingertips over your nipples, groping you with your shirt still on like a lewd old man, life just feels better when he has your tit in his mouth or hands. it hardly feels like he's actually bullying you when he gets hard like a mf while doing it.

and there are moments where he blurs the line between FWB and becoming something a little more, like when he scents you before you leave his place. "...why're you scenting me?" "why not?"

there is an incident that happens in your house one time, where a huge water leak had happened while you were away at work, drenching the floorboards and things requiring a lot of fixing. you had nowhere else to stay that wasn't either a motel or some cheap sauna so sukuna offered you to sleep at his place for the time being.

"but there's nowhere for you to sleep except for my bed. i'm not bothered to clean out any of the spare rooms and i don't suppose you want to sleep on the sofa for weeks straight?" a sly method of getting you to sleep next to him.

it really made things between you two feel a lot more intimate and romantic, a lot of tension, especially when sleeping together without the sex and doing all the chores. both of you felt a little empty when the house maintenance was all done and you had to go back to your own place.

also, this man is quite loaded with money. freelance chef popular in demand, but he only takes up jobs that he feels like doing. sometimes he'll leave his house empty for longer times because he's busy, which makes you quite lonely and confused, since he doesn't really explain to you where he's going and why a lot of the time.

when he eventually is back again, he is met with you, holding the scent of some other alpha. he finds himself feeling incredibly upset and possessive, even though he's always deemed relationships to be superficial in his life, because it limits his freedom. but he just feels so deeply unhappy about it that he ends up arguing with you

he knows it shouldn't be something he is entitled to feel angry about when he's not even properly committed to you but it's not like he's ever mingled with other omegas ever since he's met you? it just felt so unfair to him in the moment.

shortly after the argument, you end up confessing you didn't even do anything with the alpha anyway, just a boring date and one quick hug. and sukuna also explains that it was his fault in the first place, leaving and coming back without saying anything. turns out that he sometimes works as a chef in places like hotels and when he's preparing food for companies or people who live a distance away, he just spends the nights somewhere nearby for convenience.

the tension is high after both of you are finished clearing things up, and it eventually leads to sex again. he wants to get rid of that scent ASAP, whether it was from just a hug or not, he needs it GONE. and this time, he properly marks you, sinking his fangs into your scent glands like he's always ached to do.

the night ends with you two officially becoming a couple, finally haha, happy days

the end

Masterlist

[mira-selfships]

what if your self insert and my self insert kissed

[mira-selfships]

Doodles

[mira-selfships]

Not posting to tumblr yet, but I made a JJK Jennifer's Body au if anyone would like to read it and give feedback ☺️💜

It's Geto x Reader and Sukuna x Reader!

[mira-selfships]

<the butterfly perched upon you>

slice of lifey vibes with trueform sukuna! youre like a servant-turned-girlfriend to him and dont mind me making it the clumsy girl trope sorry... lots of falling over and making a fool of yourself oops- mostly lighthearted, eventual romance, fluffy, very minor/implied smut. mentions of cannibalism, murder.

the warning of ooc sukuna goes without saying <3 hope u enjoy nonetheless <3

dividers by @/saradika, @/firefly-graphics and @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

word count; 8.1k

how can someone be this useless?

its not uncommon that you trip over your own feet. the food you try to make always ends up charred and inedible. and anything that wounds up in your hands seem to either break or get misshapen. seriously, uraume considers you an eyesore.

very much like a stressed mother in law, they try to whip you up into shape to best please lord sukuna, but you can't do a thing right. goodness gracious.

there are only a handful of servants here at the lord's estate, mainly due to how he dislikes crowds and has a low tolerance for people in general, and will only accept a few for maintenance of his abode only. and yet, an awfully incapable and bumbling girl like you finds yourself at such a place. uraume wouldn't be surprised if lord sukuna lopped your head off one day, if he managed to catch sight of your silly mistakes.

the servants have very minimal contact with the lord. he's often out tormenting whomever challenges him on the battlefield, and even when he's home, none of you are brave enough to be loitering about in areas where he's currently present. uraume is the only one who usually speaks with him directly.

today, you've been reluctantly given the job of wiping down the floorboards of the engawa before the courtyard. you quite like this, because it's nice and sunny outside, and so you'll get to admire the butterflies while you work.

theres a pretty little pond with koi fish here as well, and you've been permitted to feed them some vegetable and seafood scraps, so you'll be doing that afterwards.

you've run up and down against the wooden flooring a couple of times with a rag, and soon enough, you get catch eye of a bright blue butterfly that flutters around the garden. you stand on the edge of the engawa, absorbed with the view. it's not everyday that you get to be here, after all. allegedly, this is lord sukuna's favourite spot to lounge about when he's home.

you get so distracted that you don't notice the intimidating presence behind you, even though he's a man whose aura bleeds all over the place, wherever he may be. sukuna looms over you and is silent as he ponders taking your head for annoying him by standing about in front of him like an airhead with an incredibly lacking sense of survival.

no, he shouldn't. he'd get more annoyed if your blood spilled over the floorboards, and he'd have to wait until the stench of your blood flees the area. however, before he can say a word of 'get lost', you manage to notice the shadow of the figure behind you.

you turn around and see him close up for the first time. a strange noise escapes your throat. you get so startled, your feet loses its balance, and you go backwards off the edge of the engawa. the dirty rag is thrown up in the air in a frenzy by accident as you try not to fall over.

thud! you're on your back on the garden floor. making haste, you frantically get into the position you were taught to get into by uraume, if you ever happened to come across lord sukuna by any chance. you kneel and lower your head until your forehead hits the ground.

and with such nice comedic timing, the dirty rag you'd thrown into the air falls directly onto the back of your head. you shut your eyes tightly and bite your lip in sheer embarrassment. you then realise that your humiliation is not what's really important right now. you might lose your life here.

perhaps you should apologise? are you even allowed to speak to him? what would you be apologising for, anyway? for breathing in the same direction as him? for not noticing him right away?

when uraume runs into the scene, what they witness is rather... unique. the useless servant girl on her knees and with a dirty rag on her head, trembling frantically. and lord sukuna, who seems to be viewing her with what seems to be mild amusement, and not annoyance.

"sukuna-sama... i apologise for any tardiness displayed by the servant. i didn't realise you would be coming here as soon as you came back."

usually, he enjoys a full meal before going out to the courtyard.

amongst your frantic thoughts, you almost tear up at the sound of that familiar voice. uraume-san! can they save you? i mean, sure, they only care about lord sukuna and him only, but surely they wouldn't want your blood to taint this perfect courtyard, right? especially when it's his favourite view!

"we shall accept any form of punishment you see fit for us."

we!? who's we?! you internally sob.

"it's fine."

a deeper voice responds. it's the first thing he's said since you noticed him.

"you can take her away. i'm going to stay here a while."

you hear the large man sit himself down.

"you. stand up and head back to your quarters."

you get up as quickly as you went down. the rag drops to the floor and you have to bend down to pick it up again with speed. you bow deeply again before following uraume out of the area. you can finally breathe again.

"consider yourself lucky. it seems sukuna-sama is in a pleasant mood today."

you later get scolded by uraume after you tearfully explained how you managed to get dirt all over your back and ended up with rag over your head.

meanwhile back in the courtyard, sukuna replays that scene of you in his head--of you turning around with eyes as wide as saucepans, something about you left an impression on him, and its not just because of way you made an absolute fool of yourself.

later, he comments to uraume about how you seemed a little different than the usual ones they pick to have as servants.

"shall i get rid of her? servants can always be replaced if you desire it, sukuna-sama."

"no, leave her. i was only curious."

uraume is left a little stunned. curious? over a mere servant girl? they are in no place to judge, but goodness, it's a rare thing for lord sukuna to be curious about somebody.

uraume has absolutely no qualms of disposing a person if they end up being no use to the lord. however, they never step out of line and act upon their own judgements alone. if there is someone who has piqued his interest, then uraume shall make sure that nothing interferes with their master's source of entertainment.

it's been a while again since you last saw lord sukuna. and you're quite thankful for it, after that humiliating first impression you gave him.

the days have been somewhat peaceful, with only the occasional grumbling from uraume, upset by your helplessness in preparing and cooking food, as usual. after multiple cuts and burns, they decided that you were not to come even a metre into the kitchen area.

that's fine by you, anyway. cleaning and sweeping while you hum your silly tunes is what you prefer.

night arrives with the moon hanging up brightly, like it always does. you think it's going to be another uneventful closure to the evening, but uraume soon appears at the servant's quarters, looking for you. they look a little uneasy. the very few other female servants whisper amongst themselves.

"sukuna-sama has requested for you. come with me."

oh...

you feeling like crying.

there is nothing that you can do. 'requested' so they may say, but everyone knows rejection means possible death. so you follow uraume outside.

walking with them in the corridor, every step feels like it's bringing you closer to disaster.

"uraume-san... what exactly is sukuna-sama requesting me for...?" you ask cautiously.

"i'm unaware know the details myself. but he's in the middle of a bath. perhaps there's a splatter of blood he can't reach on his back."

yes, but why has he chosen me out of all people?!

but you know better than to question such orders. your hands become clammy with sweat.

you reach the bath area too quickly for your liking, and uraume ushers you inside without further concern for your wellbeing. their only concern is hoping that you don't do anything to displease the lord.

lord sukuna sometimes has a tendency to act upon his own whims, but even uraume was surprised when he suddenly asked for the servant girl he met in the courtyard...

the warmth of the misty steam inside caresses your face gently and also makes your kimono stick to you uncomfortably... making you sweat even more.

lord sukuna is sitting in his oversized, wooden bathtub wordlessly, his back turned to you. splashes of crimson against his skin, just as uraume had said. you take a quiet, deep breath.

kneeling before him as per protocol, you bow your head, despite the floors being soggy with water.

"sukuna-sama. how may i assist you this evening?"

the eyes on the side of his distorted face dart down to look at you.

"it's fairly obvious, isn't it? wash the blood away."

"right away."

you stand up straight, and it was apparently too fast for your poor blood pressure, getting you dizzy momentarily. foolishly so, you still decide to take a few steps with haste on the wet, slippery floor. with a loud yelp, you slip and land on your bottom. you want to scream.

"i-i apologise..." you say tearfully, getting back up.

"...not a dull moment with you, as i figured." he uses a tone of mockery.

there's a hint of a chuckle in his voice, and you're only glad he's amused rather than annoyed at your stupidity. your backside hurts again. it hasn't even been that long since the bruises stopped hurting from the last time you fell over!

you grab a cloth to start scrubbing the man down, holding back your tears. the metallic scent is prominent, and your mind begins to wander about exactly whose blood you were currently wiping away into the bathwater. you try not to think about it too much.

it's not new information that lord sukuna kills mercilessly, and even feasts on humans should he feel like it. you've seen the types of "ingredients" uraume has used in the kitchen at times, and the blood that paints the bottom of the sink. these were all things you needed to get used to seeing and knowing as a servant at this estate.

you keep your face stern as you clean him down delicately, thoroughly. the damp, warm cloth runs along the muscles on his back, neck and shoulders. you squeeze out the blood and dip it back in clean water, before wiping again. he has a delightfully toned body, with many tattoos. and more muscles than you could ever count. you take note of the neck tattoos that resemble the lines on a butterfly's wings. it draws you in, but you have to make sure you don't get too distracted.

you notice there's some blood on his hand as well. you move towards it and clean it down, gentle in the way you go over each finger. you're holding hands with him inevitably as you have to lift it up, and this makes you realise how large this man is. your hand seems almost like a child's in comparison to his. there's something rather exhilarating, yet also terrifying about this size difference.

the hairs on the back of your head rise, for some reason. you notice how his big red eyes are boring into you from the edge of your vision. you feign ignorance and focus on cleaning.

time passes in haste as you finish wiping down the last spot of visible blood from the lord's body.

"all the blood has been cleaned away, sukuna-sama," you tell him.

"is that so?" he asks, looking down at his own body. "but there's a spot left over here," he objects, pointing to the side of his neck, vaguely.

"i- i'm sorry, i must have missed that area. i shall clean it immediately-"

you crane your neck to look towards where he was pointing, your face getting closer to his. the place he mentioned is clean. no blood in sight. you meet his eyes. his lips curl upwards, seemingly pleased.

"finally, you look this way," he says, capturing your gaze.

you freeze on the spot, face heating up.

"your... your neck seems clean... sukuna-sama," you respond quietly, unable to think of anything else to say.

"i was only teasing. was it not apparent?" he smirks at you, and you feel that your heart may burst any second now. from either fear or excitement. or both.

"pardon me. i should have noticed sooner," you say, moving your face away from his.

"...i digress. where's the fun in that? just remain gullible for me."

he flicks your forehead, making you whisper 'ouch!' under your breath.

"understood?"

"yes, my lord."

without further conversation, he stands up to his full height, the water droplets racing down against his skin. you hurriedly grab some towels for him... doing your best to avoid looking at his... ahem. when you hand over the towels, your eyes are shut tight. sukuna gives a deep chuckle.

"silly girl."

since the bath, lord sukuna has developed a tendency to call you over during unpredictable moments, and for unpredictable errands. then, he disappears again for a while. and merely moments before you get too comfortable without his presence around you, he returns to repeat it all over again.

recently, he's taken towards looking for you himself, rather than asking uraume about your whereabouts. it scares the other servants when he barges into their spaces, but he pays them little mind.

this afternoon, he finds you sweeping down the leaves away at the front of the estate, humming to your heart's content.

"i come to check what's making all that noisy ruckus... only to find out that it's you."

your whole body goes stiff at the voice, and you reflexively try to get on your knees, but he stops you.

"keep your head up," he commands you.

"your face is worth gazing at, after all," he adds, albeit under his breath.

the compliment doesn't even register into your head as you immediately stand back up, broom in hand. you thank him for the pardon.

"are you done with the sweeping, yet?" sukuna suddenly asks, looking around with his arms crossed. well-- one pair of them, at least.

"not yet, sukuna-sama. but only a little bit to go," you respond with honesty.

"come to my chambers with a plate of fruits and a knife with you, once you're done. don't take too long."

after that, he promptly takes his leave without further explanation. you stand still for a moment, as you always do. every interaction you have with him leaves you in a bit of a daze. often, you wonder if he's a part of your daydreams.

you shake your head and continue to sweep, silently, this time around. don't take too long, he had ordered.

after you're done with that, you make your way into the kitchen on your tiptoes. you wonder if uraume would believe you, if you were to tell them that you're entering upon sukuna's own request.

but once you make your appearance to the entrance of the kitchen, uraume is already there, ready with a tray with a plate of assorted fruits on it. and a knife sitting next to the plate. the sight of the sharp utensil makes you feel nervous, somewhat.

you take the tray without a word, and head towards the lord's chambers.

three sharp knocks.

"sukuna-sama. i've come with the items you sought for. may i come in?"

"you may."

you slide the door open, and sukuna is there, waiting on the tatami mat while holding a kiseru in his hand. once you enter, he sets it aside after one more puff.

"put it here," he points towards the empty space in front of him.

you place the tray down where he gestured towards, and then sit yourself in front of him. there's a moment of silence as you flicker your gaze from looking at him, to the fruit before you.

"well? what are you waiting for? prepare it for me."

oh, no. you had prayed with every ounce in your body, that he wouldn't request for such a thing, but of course it didn't work. now, you have to display your terrible cutting skills to the very head of this estate.

hands trembling, you reach out for the knife and pick up a peach from the plate. you make a cut towards the seed in the middle. then, you cut diagonally to get one slice out. sukuna opens up his hand, waiting for you to place it in the middle of his palm. you do so, and the piece looks so pathetically tiny that you almost feel ashamed.

"faster," he demands, with a small smile on his face.

you swallow thickly, and try to speed up your cutting. the pieces get more and more jagged and unsightly. but sukuna doesn't display any signs of anger or annoyance.

"such poor knife skills. no wonder uraume left you to do the cleaning only. is that really the best you can do?" he taunts you, laughing through his nose.

"i'm afraid so... i apologise for my lack of skills, sukuna-sama," you confess, trying not to make your lower lip wobble from the anxiety and dejection. did he bring you here just to mock the way you cut fruits?! your brows furrow in determination and you try harder.

after the peaches, you grab a persimmon. they're trickier to prepare, since you have to carefully peel the skin off them as well. you purse your lips.

things go somewhat smoothly at first, but then you start to slip up again. it's slippery, and the blade of the knife slices through your thumb.

"ah-" a small noise leaves your lips and you watch as a drop of your blood runs down your palm. sukuna matches your gaze and narrows his eyes at the same scene.

"such a helpless, troublesome woman."

he grabs your wrist and slowly brings your thumb to his mouth. your eyes widen, and you're speechless as you watch him run his tongue up the trail of your blood and then suck on the small incision on your thumb.

you're like a steaming kettle, with the way your blood rushes through your veins, temperature rising with how flustered you are. sukuna looks at you with your finger still in his mouth.

"su-sukuna-sama... you needn't do such a thing-"

a shiver runs down your spine when you feel his tongue swirl around your wound. he then releases it from his mouth, with a smirk, still holding onto your wrist.

you retract your hand suddenly, due to an indescribable feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. you then begin to fear that snatching your hand away like that might've offended him.

"my apologies, sukuna-sama! if you will excuse me-!"

you stand up and run, and he lets you scurry away, with the same sweet, arrogant grin on his face. down the hallway, he hears you trip over yourself before exiting. it makes him chuckle.

you're a fun way to pass time, when he's not slaughtering millions on the battlefield.

back in your own quarters, you lean yourself against a wall and pant, being out of breath. what had just happened? he... he licked the wound on your finger. and that did something to you. your insides feel all squirmy.

you look down at your thumb, only to realise that the cut has mysteriously disappeared.

after running away from sukuna abruptly like that, you had expected to uraume to chase you up and drag you to him, where you'd be executed for fleeing. but it never happens.

in fact, you haven't seen him again for a while. however this time around, his absence does nothing to keep you relaxed, as you're always on your toes, not knowing when he'd next make an appearance before you. you wonder what he will do to you next, when he does come back sooner or later.

before you can drown in those concerns of yours, uraume sends you outside to hang some laundry out in the sun. some white sheets, freshly washed. you struggle a bit, to carry the large bucket of sheets out to the yard.

the laundry line is a bit high, so you need to grab a small stool as well to successfully get the sheets over it. the wind is gentle, and the sunlight pours endlessly from the skies. truly a perfect day to dry the laundry outside.

the sheets are large, so you find it difficult to squeeze the moisture out by yourself, but you suppose they will eventually dry anyway, thanks to the nice weather. you smile as the cool breeze runs through you, making you feel pleasant.

from afar, sukuna observes this scenic view of you, surrounded by the pure white of the swaying sheets around you, smiling as the wind jostles your hair slightly and the sun accentuates your features rather beautifully.

he walks towards your light.

you're busy trying to hang another sheet on the second line this time. you wish the stool was a tad bit taller. this is rather challenging. even standing on top of it, you need to get on your tippy toes to reach properly. and it doesn't help that the water-weight makes the cloth heavier...

a large hand brushes aside the sheet that covers you from view, startling you. you nearly topple over, but a pair of strong arms catch you, keeping you standing upright.

"how ridiculous. don't you get tired of doing that every time?" he sighs. his second pair of arms are crossed, while the first pair hold you so warmly.

"i'm sorry..." you mumble, staring at him with wide eyes. it's like he appeared out of your thoughts. could this perhaps be a daydream of yours? he fixes your stance so that you can stand on the stool properly again. despite your height boost from this stool, sukuna is still a bit taller than you.

"it feels strange, having you meet me eye-to-eye like this..." sukuna comments, while staring down at you curiously.

and it does feel strange, being almost at his height. how close you feel to him now. maybe this offends him.

"i shall get down immediately," you tell him respectfully, trying to get off the stool. his arms come around again to keep you still.

"ack-!"

"tch. don't overreact. i didn't mean it that way," sukuna mutters, tutting at you.

you stand stiffly with your hands by your sides as he inspects you, anxious yet also excited to find out what his intentions are this time around. every touch he lands on you makes you skin jump, in an intoxicating way.

you focus your vision particularly on the odd looking side of his face. it looks like it has a strange texture. would it still be skin? you want to try and touch it. and... his extra eyes look cute. you gasp at yourself for having such disrespectful thoughts about him. all four of his eyes then focus on your face, as if to notice your gaze, and you feel as though your heart may leap out of your throat. there's a part of sukuna that makes you question whether he can read your mind or not.

"you're curious about this face of mine, are you?" he asks, while smiling.

your jaw hangs open in shock, and you don't know whether to tell him that he's correct or to apologise for your insolence.

"what a strange expression you're making," he chuckles, "so easy to read."

it's not that he can read minds, it's only because you're openly letting yourself known to him, whether you're aware of it or not. transparent, like a perfectly pristine and delicate glass cup. shall he leave his fingerprints on you? shall he leave some cracks in that fragile vessel of yours?

his hands come off your body, and you have to concentrate to keep your balance on the stool, no longer being able to rely on his hold to stand still.

"continue with your duties. i shall call for you later," sukuna states sternly, looking off at the sheets that still wave gently in the wind.

"you didn't squeeze out enough water. it's dripping," he points out the soaking wet ends of the sheets.

you practically jump off of the stool and get to work. in the meantime, the lord has disappeared again. you look into the distance to catch a glimpse of him if you can, but he's nowhere to be seen.

and he never got around to clarifying about what happened to his face. perhaps that's a clear sign to mean that he's not interested in talking about his past.

upon finishing the laundry in completion, you make your way to the kitchen, due to the time being close to serving the lord's evening meal.

the other servants and uraume included, are running around to prepare his dinner to perfection, as usual. for the most part, you're left with nothing to do at these times since none of them trust you with handling the food.

lord sukuna did say he was going to call for you later. you wonder if you'll be able to help bathe him again. or if this time, he'll make you do something different. you're plagued with such daydreams as the servants bustle about behind you.

by the time the busy period finalises, the moon hangs high up amongst the stars, and the darkness of night consumes all. and yet, he still hasn't requested for you at all. you suppose when he said he'd call for you later, he perhaps meant tomorrow or the day after. you never know with the lord. trying to navigate him is like trying to look through the murky depths of the ocean at night.

right when you were about to return to your quarters with everyone else, uraume suddenly approaches you.

"sukuna-sama wishes to see you. make your way to the courtyard now."

your stomach starts stirring once again.

the courtyard is beautiful, even at night. sukuna sits in the now moonlit area, drinking from a sake cup in a languid manner.

it takes courage to speak up behind him.

"did you wish to see me, my lord?"

sukuna turns slightly to the side to look at you, before facing the front again.

"...come. pour me another glass, will you?"

"certainly."

as you pour him more of the crystal clear wine, you have to stay vigilant in order to not accidentally splash any of the expensive liquid outside of the cup from your shaky hands.

tonight, the lord's gaze rests not on you, but on the moon above. you watch along with him. there is nothing but silence in the first few moments you have with him together.

"the moon is beautiful tonight," he finally says, while taking another sip of his sake.

is it normal for one to be envious of the moon? even so, thanks to the moon, you are able to see him bathed in its light, making him look almost ethereal.

"yes it is, sukuna-sama," you agree with him.

there's another momentary silence between the two of you, before you bring up a sudden question.

"...do you enjoy watching the moon often?"

"not often, but at times. it would get boring if i did it everyday."

like almost everything else in life.

"i see. that is most understandable."

the chirping of crickets is audible within the garden, and you pour him another glass of his sake after he finishes his previous cup.

you look up at the black canvas of a sky, littered with specks of white all across it. it's easy to get lost in the sight. and much more comfortable than looking at something like the sun, which could burn the delicate areas of your eyes. you begin to get immersed in the view, and your previous train of thoughts ebb away.

you don't notice the way sukuna has stopped gazing at the sky. he's watching you, instead.

"you must know by now... that i favour you more than the other servants," sukuna brings up carefully.

you stop staring up, and turn around slowly to blink at the man.

"...is- is that true, my lord?" you ask, wondering if he really means that. you don't want to get ahead of yourself.

his brows furrow. how dim-witted can you be?

"perhaps actions will speak better than words."

that phrase alone makes your heart feel like it could leap out of your throat.

"sit closer to me."

you swallow dryly, and shuffle closer to the larger man. he sets his cup down beside him, and brings you even closer to him. his hand holding your waist. sitting with him, hip to hip.

sukuna begins to lean his face down closer to yours. your hands grab your own kimono in tight fists, questioning the reality of this scene, feeling skittish yet also giddy, all at the same time.

"don't run away, this time. i won't allow it."

the way his breath ghosts over the skin of your face, how close his voice is to your ears, sends goosebumps all the way down to your legs. is he going to kiss you? can you handle that?

his lips reach yours, and the softness of them is unreal. this must be a dream. he tastes of the rice wine was sipping on before, and he's doused in the same moonlight as you are, and he's now kissing you. a mere servant.

your ears pound with your own heartbeat, and your hands grip onto your kimono so tightly that it's bound to leave wrinkles behind. they shake slightly. sukuna's large hand comes over one of them, and grabs your wrist delicately.

"relax", he's telling you.

and so, you share your first kiss with him, under the moonlight.

quite a bit of time has passed since that day.

you could say that nothing much has changed - you still have your duties as a servant, and the lord still leaves his home vacant for periods of time.

however, on days when he has returned...

you gently sway your legs that hang off the edge of the engawa, on the very same courtyard as that fateful night. sukuna lays his head on your lap, eyes closed and completely at rest, both sets of his arms relaxed as the breaths he takes are slow.

your hand is unable to stray far from the soft bed of his hair, fingers combing through the peach-coloured strands, nails raking against his scalp with the right amount of strength, the way he loves. he gives the occasional purr when you go over his favourite spots.

it's odd, when merely a few weeks ago, you had trouble initiating these harmless touches without explicitly asking for permission beforehand.

"sukuna-sama, may i touch your hair?"

"would it be alright if i could hold your hand, sukuna-sama?"

"may i press a kiss against your cheek, my lord?"

you giggle to yourself as you remember his response to your endless series of questions and requests.

"tch... quit asking me about every little thing. just do it. i'll let you know if i don't like it."

and from then on, you've been bravely placing your hands on him whenever you wanted. and he hasn't been displeased by you, as of yet.

you freely caress the side of his face that you would describe as... unique. you're always curious about the nature of it, even now. but you don't invasively ask questions. you wonder if you'll ever feel brave enough to, one day.

his larger eyes open up narrowly in an abrupt manner, and they squint at you. it makes you nervous, in the way that heart fluttering way. you never get used to the feeling of being under his intense gaze.

red, with ringed irises. you've started to enjoy this colour more ever since you started to meet his eyes more often. you stare back at him but, oh- he's closed them up again.

your hand continues to softly caress him.

sukuna remains mellow, not really falling asleep, but also not in a state of full alertness. your lap serves as a great pillow.

this continues, until suddenly your touches become slower and more distracted. and he can tell your attention has been divided to something else.

the dismayed lord cracks open one eye to check what might have served as a distraction to you.

a butterfly...?

your eyes follow the pretty blue creature, landing on the flora of the garden, in it's carefree nature. a small smile blooms on your face and your hand's movements dwindle, which should displease him. he could cleave the thing into little bits, and let its remains scatter the lush garden.

but, he doesn't. sukuna lets you indulge in these small moments of joy, simply because he's gotten rather softhearted. he doesn't enjoy seeing you get upset at him. though he has control over you as your lord, his hand can't extend all the way to your heart and mind.

(and may the world burst into flames if you ever end up disliking him.)

he recalls... you were also staring at a butterfly the day he first met you, weren't you? so distracted that you didn't notice his presence. he doesn't understand your affection for such a fragile creature.

but...he supposes that he's the same.

what came over him, that he wound up caring for a silly woman like you?

as if to reaffirm your concept of being 'silly', you suddenly give a small sneeze, facing away from the front. his head gets jostled in your lap, which makes him frown and sigh.

"my apologies, sukuna-sama... perhaps it was due to the pollen from the garden..." you give your excuse sheepishly.

well, no matter. he'll keep you with him for as long as he desires. perhaps he can use your butterfly-infatuation to his advantage.

not long after, once the sun dips over the horizon and the area becomes a little chilly, sukuna decides he wants to take a bath before the day comes to an end. and you'll be coming along, of course.

...by now, you've been with him in the bath area at least a dozen times before.

nevertheless, you never seem to get used to seeing him in his naked glory.

sukuna is sitting in his tub, and you're running a warm, wet cloth over his shoulders, scrubbing lazily. he was already quite clean enough today, in your opinion.

a feeling of deja vu hits when your gaze falls onto the tattoo on the back of his neck. you remember having such a thought before. though it's not the strongest resemblance, you see it regardless.

without much resistance, you give in to the desire, and bring your lips to the area to give him a small kiss. it takes him by slight surprise.

"the tattoo on your neck resembles the lines on a butterfly's wings, sukuna-sama. it looks elegant, and wonderful," you tell him.

...he is not displeased with that comparison, strangely enough.

"is that so? no wonder i've felt your stare on it multiple times before," sukuna responds.

you never realised that he'd caught onto that. were you always staring that prominently? you continue wiping him down with the warm cloth, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden.

sukuna thinks for a moment.

"how about you join me in here, tonight?" he asks, out of the blue.

"p-pardon?!"

"quit acting so timid. go on, get yourself cleaned. i'm waiting."

you feel your face heat up at the thought of being... naked with him. anxiousness starts running through your body. you wonder if he really means it, or if he's trying to fluster you again. your lack of action causes him to raise an eyebrow.

"what, you don't want to?"

"no, no! i do, my lord! i'm just... a bit taken aback."

you spring into action. heart pounding as you shed your clothes. he doesn't turn his head or peek at you from where he sits, but your eyes dart to him to check anyways. you clean and rinse yourself adequately, with shaky hands.

"shall i lend a hand in scrubbing your back?" sukuna suddenly calls out. there is sarcasm in his tone.

"that wouldn't be necessary, my lord... i can do it myself..." you respond bashfully.

you only pray that you don't slip over on the way to the tub.

when you do eventually finish up, you walk carefully towards him. walking past where he sits, you reach the other side of the tub. you avoid his eyes as you enter at a slow pace, arms making an effort to cover your breasts. you're finally seated in the same tub as him. the water is steaming, and it's quite deep. still, you hang on to the edge and keep yourself a little distanced from sukuna.

"aw come on. it was mere moments ago that you kissed the back of my neck. so shy all of a sudden?"

"that- that was a different situation, sukuna-sama..."

"the only difference now is that we're both nude," he shrugs.

"nevermind that...the water looks a little deep for you," he says, almost mockingly so- "come. i'll let you on my lap."

you cannot tell whether he is only teasing, or if he actually wants you on his lap.

"quickly- don't run my patience thin."

you make your way towards him without further hesitation.

sitting on his lap, you find that he's oddly comfortable. an arm of his loops around your waist, holding you tight against him, as if to prevent you from running away.

the lord takes your hand and caresses it between his thick fingers. your back leans against his bare chest and abs as you relax yourself more. you wonder if the mouth on his stomach doesn't feel uncomfortable when you sit against it like this.

sukuna's extra arms begin to get more and more handsy with you. you feel his large palms on your breasts, squeezing the flesh gently. not that you find it unpleasant, but it makes you feel all squirmy and restless and hot. when he touches your chest like that, you can't help but turn your head slightly to give him a needy look. it makes him lean down and kiss you warmly.

his tongue explores your mouth in a thorough manner, encouraging a growing heat inside of you. you start gripping his hand harder, though you doubt he feels a thing from it.

when lord sukuna kisses you, you can't tell whether time is passing too quickly, or too slowly. you lose the ability to think of anything else, other than his soft lips and his rough tongue. and you believe that he's aware of this fact himself. why else could he be smiling against your lips like he is right now?

you don't know how long you'd kissed him for in that bathtub. but by the time you stepped out of it, your hands were wrinkly from the prolonged moisture.

and you came out with... feelings of unsatisfaction. rather than getting a little further than kissing, sukuna had stopped abruptly and told you with a smirk that he was ready to get back to his chambers now.

upon getting dressed again, you linger awkwardly around the man, wanting more but not knowing how to inform him of it. the lord looks at you keenly.

"well? aren't you going back to your chambers?" he asks with a sly undertone.

"...i would like to escort you to your room... my lord," you tell him, averting his gaze.

"oh? i don't recall needing an escort, when my room's right around the corner. but if you insist." you can't see what kind of expression he's wearing right now, but you imagine he's smiling at you teasingly. like he always does.

you trail behind him as he walks over to his chambers.

for sure, it doesn't take long until he reaches his room. sukuna slides open the door and makes his way to his large futon in the middle of the tatami floor. he makes himself comfortable, and lays on his side while you watch him from outside his room.

"you're still here. well? are you planning on tucking me into bed next?" he asks with his usual mockery, chuckling through his nose.

you frown cutely, feeling a deep sense of unfairness in the pit of your stomach.

"i was just about to leave, sukuna-sama," you respond a bit haughtily, getting bold with him.

"is that so. then run along," he ushers you, following that with a big yawn. your frown gets deeper.

you begin to slowly close his door, but then stop when it's only cracked open slightly. you brace yourself for the request you are about to make.

"sukuna-sama... could i sleep beside you, tonight?" you ask meekly.

his lips curl up similarly to that of a cheshire cat. finally, you're getting honest with him. he loves the feeling of having you run about in the palm of his hand.

"i thought you said you were going to leave?"

"please...?" you muster your best puppy eyes.

the lord smirks again, and eventually beckons you in with his index finger. you perk up, and step into his room with excitement, running into his futon like a dog, tail wagging from the happiness of being with its owner.

"you're like a silly mutt. foolish, but cute. i like the way you beg for my affection."

you're not sure on how to feel about being compared to a mutt, but you suppose it's not the worst comparison in the world.

"woof," you say quietly, shuffling closer to him. he laughs deeply at you. from your tight embrace with him, you feel the vibrations from his chuckling against his chest.

...there's always something hot or warm about sukuna.

his whole presence feels like a roaring fire at times, burning with his strength and charisma - the flames and temperature threatening to scald anyone around him.

but,

right here, when you're in his arms, the fire becomes tame. still an unrelenting and strong flame, but something more controlled and comfortable to be around.

you close your eyes with a smile, satisfied with this outcome.

"oi. i don't recall saying you could sleep yet."

that makes your eyes bolt open with confusion. sukuna furrows his brows and grabs your face, squishing your cheeks together.

"you're in my futon, and all you can think about is sleeping? i don't know how to feel about that."

"oh... was there something else you wanted from me, sukuna-sama?"

he looks further displeased by your question and suddenly grabs both your wrists, pinning them above your head. you gasp, surprised by his sudden shift in mood.

"we should continue with where we left off, shouldn't we?"

another hand comes up to hold your neck gently for a moment, before he slides it down slowly to your chest, the warmth from his palm trailing with it, reaching your clothed breasts, making your head spin with arousal.

"were you not anticipating something like this? when you asked to stay the night beside me."

he leans down and presses his lips against the space just below your ear, making you shudder. he likes this reaction, and continues kissing down your neck.

"s-sukuna-sama..."

"what a lewd tone you're using with my name. i hope you're prepared for the consequences of that."

he overtakes your senses with another searing hot kiss. hands clawing away at your kimono. teasing touches to your chest. his flames are threatening to envelop you, producing yet another unique kind of heat.

but you've never welcomed anything else more in your life. you'd gladly burn to ashes if it means being so close to your lord, your light.

...it's safe to say that you woke up the next morning with more bruises and bite marks than the number of fingers you have on your hands. and the lord lays beside your exhausted frame, aimlessly curling a lock of your hair around his finger with a satisfied grin on his face.

during one quiet afternoon, uraume beckons you towards them.

"i've been ordered to dress you lavishly. come with me."

you follow them without question, wondering what the sudden occasion could be. lord sukuna has left for the battlefield once again, so he's been missing for a couple of days. is he due to come back this evening?

such hopes fill your mind.

you stand awkwardly as uraume fits a rather elegant and expensive, but beautiful looking kimono onto you. it feels odd. you could even say you feel a bit guilty; in what world would someone dress a servant so extravagantly? nonetheless, you accept the treatment with silence. you get lost in your own daydreams, while uraume prepares you for whatever's been arranged for you.

by the end of it all, they angle you to face the mirror properly, their hands placed on your shoulders.

"it's complete. feel free to take a look at yourself."

you turn your face to one side, and then the other, all while keeping your eyes on the mirror. you look... stunning.

"th-thank you..." you tell uraume, quite speechless.

"please withhold that gratitude for lord sukuna. he was the one that arranged for this, after all."

you're then told to wait at the courtyard, for the lord's return. tingles of excitement run through your veins, and reaches the tips of your fingers, at having your hopes confirmed. he's due to return tonight.

quite a bit of time passes. yet, no signs of him coming back yet. you swing your legs back and forth languidly over the engawa, looking up at the sky aimlessly. though you shouldn't be doing such a thing when you've been fitted with a lovely kimono, there's no one around to scold or stop you from your usual habits.

you sigh, wondering when he'll be back. your eyes wander around the garden, this time. under the moonlight, there's a singular butterfly that flutters about, appearing in good timing as if to help cure your boredom.

you step out onto the grass and approach it, lending out a finger towards it to see if it decides to land on your hand. it takes a bit of effort, but after some gentle movements and patience, it eventually stops to linger on your index finger for a while. it allows you to admire every ridge, and all the patterns on the wings in better detail. you wonder whether you'll ever get another opportunity to observe a butterfly so closely again in the future.

a few footsteps resound behind you, getting you startled. when your body moves slightly from the scare, the butterfly flees and seemingly disappears out of sight.

yet, right now, you have no room to feel disappointed by a mere butterfly.

sukuna is smirking at you from a distance, looking very pleased with the way you're dressed for him. he steps down and walks into the garden as well, approaching you languidly, one arm concealed under the sleeve of his kimono.

"welcome back, sukuna-sama. i've been awaiting for your return," you greet him, smiling.

"were you now? missed me that bad?" he asks, reaching out to caress your cheek.

"yes, my lord. i missed you so much. not a day goes by where i don't think about you."

"why, how sweet...perhaps you deserve a reward for your honesty."

"a reward...?" your eyes grow wide and you start getting embarrassingly overjoyed at the idea of a reward given to you by the lord himself.

"so eager. you seem like you're truly getting committed to playing the role of a mutt."

you try to change your expression in haste, but you end up looking more bashful than anything. sukuna laughs at another one of your strange expressions.

"i'm only teasing."

he then pulls his arm out of his sleeve, revealing something you never thought you'd see in his hands.

a hairpin... specifically, one with a large blue butterfly on it. embedded with pretty jewels, and shaped to perfection. it would've been something difficult to obtain. for someone who's always busy creating chaos, when would he have had the time to find such a thing amongst everything else?

"i thought you would enjoy having something like this. do you like it?"

"oh... like would be an understatement, sukuna-sama. i adore it. is it really for me?"

"who else could have it? don't ask foolish questions."

it could only ever belong to you.

he places the pin into your hair, graceful and elegant with his hands. it makes you feel overjoyed. heat rises to your cheeks and they hurt from how much you're smiling.

"not bad at all. it was worth obtaining."

your hand rises to where the hairpin is, and you touch it gently, letting your fingertips feel the texture of the pin and it's butterfly pattern.

"am i... am i pretty, my lord?" you ask sheepishly, looking up at him with your doe eyes.

he's smiling at you rather gently, his eyes mirroring your reflection within them as he gazes down at you in silence. his lack of a verbal response almost makes you nervous, however.

sukuna reaches out to hold your hand, and pulls you closer towards him. he's glad that nobody else is around, for he's certain they would've also felt so drawn to you, like he is right now.

he palms your cheek again, before letting his thumb brush over your lips delicately.

you never sever your gaze from him, continuing to await his reply.

"... you're beautiful,"

he finally relents.

sukuna then presses his lips against yours, underneath the moon's blessing. once again, and forevermore.

fin.

Masterlist

[mira-selfships]

So I kinda tried imitating gege's artstyle (not the most accurate but I tried🫠)

[mira-selfships]

you cant pout around sukuna bc he'll squish your cheeks together with one giant hand hard enough that it aches a little and ask you in the most condescending voice one could possibly conceive if he upset you and do you want him to make it all better?

[mira-selfships]

Gojo Satoru who’s working undercover at a florist shop. He doesn’t know much about flowers, but he hardly thinks it matters, for this obscure florist shop had remained unvisited since he got here a week ago.

It’s nestled in a quaint corner in the city, hardly noticeable — its inconspicuousness being its very shield as it conveniently found itself in the direct eye line to the building he was assigned to watch.

He thinks Yaga might have sent him here out of spite really, but also he thinks that anything could happen, and he would hate it if he was right so he played his part, if only to thwart the satisfaction of Yaga's potential correctness.

And to really hone it in, it starts raining, the clamorous beats of the rain runs on the roof akin to a cascade of hard stones, ensuring that no soul would venture in at such an hour.

Then, like a shifting scene in a play, the bell above the door chimes, and you enter. You flit through with a slew of apologies about your wetness and the rain. And frankly, you’re really pretty so he couldn't care less about the clean-up.

"Uh," he cleared his throat, a practiced smile forming, one he knew appealed to many. "Hey," he says, threading a casualness into his tone.

"Hi," you reply, gracious in demeanour as you offer a nod to your accompanying greeting.

You bend down, carefully balancing your closed umbrella against the door's ingress, before your eyes start wandering, scanning the shop as you advanced toward the counter.

"How can I help you?" Gojo inquires, upholding the same practiced smile, despite his unfamiliarity with the florist's etiquette.

"Right. Um — I need some roses,” you say, mirroring a smile — courteous and formal. His discerning eye catches a wave of shiver that passes through you. He wishes to offer a coat or warmth of any kind but it remains unfulfilled; he had nothing.

“Of course! Any preference in—" And then his eyes flit to the rose section — stashed with only red today. "Color...?" he concludes, somewhat disjointedly.

Amusement twinkles in your eyes, as they come to meet his. "Well, red, I suppose?"

"Red it is!" he quips, moving with haste as he rushes to get them. He reaches for a fist full of the bunch, promptly placing them on the counter before him.

He catches you staring at the other flowers as he works, your drenched appearance only seemed to amplify how pretty you seem to look.

He smiles, as he talks again, breaking the silence, “So who are these roses for? Parents? Sister? Grandmother — Aw, she's not sick, is she?” He frowns, with a look of pity and you stare back with your eye brows raised — concerned and cautious.

As your silence persisted, he made another attempt. “Um, or are they for a friend?”

An internal chant commenced — Please don’t say boyfriend. Please don’t say girlfriend. Please don’t mention a partner. Please. Please. Please — but he knows he’ll do nothing of it. It’s odd, really. This senseless chase of his.

"Actually," you say, your tone finding a precarious balance as you quint in response. "They're for my boyfriend."

“I hope he dies,” the mutter that leaves his mouth is immediate, and shocking even to him.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "What?" you questioned.

Acting swiftly, he retraced his words with fluidity, “I hope he likes... the flowers,” he recants, like the liar he is.

A pregnant pause ensues, a silence ripe with tension.

"Right. Thanks," you managed, your mask of politeness only slightly marred by the odd exchange.

"For valentine's day, ah? Perfect choice," he quips again, with a smile as fake as his enthusiasm.

You don't know what it is that prompts you to speak up but you do. "More of an apology, actually," your tone softening as the confession escaped your mouth.

He responded with a mere hum, as his attention resumed its focus on the flowers before him.

A few beats pass.

"Should you really be working here this late?" you ask casually, your gaze assessing the store for another person, a mentor perhaps. "You seem young."

"Well, you're young too," he retorted. "Should you be out here at this hour?"

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. "Nah, Mom's going to kill me, but young love and all that. Sacrifices must be made."

Something twinges inside him — will he ever experience this? Young love? Does he even want to?

"Well, I hope this guy appreciates the gesture if you're going through all this trouble," he adds.

"Yeah, fingers crossed." Your chuckles fluttered after your words nervously.

His fingers reached for satin ribbons, his hands moving deftly, crafting delicate arcs to bind the bouquet tightly.

He held his hand out to you with the bouquet now, wrapped in a simple gossamer wrap, "Well, here you go. I hope they do the trick."

"Thank you," you responded, reaching for your purse. "How much do I owe you?"

"Just a moment," he finally says, disappearing into the back of the shop. He returns with a small card, slipping it into the bouquet with practiced ease. "Here you go."

"Thanks again," your smile was a touch more authentic than the first time.

He smiles, and waves you a little goodbye as you make your way out after paying him. The rain seems to be cleared out and you start making the trek down to your boyfriend's place. And as you walk, there's something within you that nags and nags and urges you to do it.

You pick up the card placed inside the bouquet by the peculiar man you just encountered.

You turn it over, and you notice flowery calligraphy presenting a number, alongside a message: "In case your boyfriend doesn't appreciate the roses. Call me :P"

You could only laugh out loud, like a madman on the street. The sheer audacity of it all.

However, you don't seem to realise how you end up pocketing the card instead of throwing it out at the nearest bin.

Part 2

[mira-selfships]

Offer

Summary: Din is absolutely sure that you know that he’s courting you. He wants to makes the offer formally anyways. 

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

Word Count: ~3.9k

Warnings: pining, absolute FOOLS in love, bit of grumpy x sunshine, Din thinking he's being so obvious while not showing a single emotion, self doubt and insecurity (Din), lil angst, probably incorrect lore, fluff, Mando'a (translations at the end)

A/N: This is the prequel to Significant! It's not necessary to read Significant first, though I do, of course, recommend it. You can read them in either order, or one and not the other. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!

Din examines the blade closely, shifting it one way and then another.

The gleaming metal catches the light of the sun, reflecting back into the visor. He waits for a moment, until the clouds drifting through the sky obscure the rays again and he can more easily see the symbols engraved along the edge of it. 

“So?” The man across from him asks. “Obviously it’s no beskar,” he says, eyeing Din when he glances up. “But good enough, I hope?” 

“Beskar is not used for weapons,” he says. “Only for protection.” When the man bows his head in acknowledgement, Din slides the necessary credits across the table. “And the sheath?” 

The credits are collected in gnarled hands before the smith slides the leather sheath across the table. It’s soft and well oiled. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mando,” he says, sitting back in his chair as Din stands. “I hope your, ah, partner, enjoys it.” 

Din glances down at the blade and then back at the man. “It will be sufficient.” 

He hopes so, at least. 

The man is correct that it isn’t beskar, and so not as good of a gift as he could have hoped. But you are precariously and curiously weapon deficient for a person who’d spent years traveling the galaxy alone before joining him on the Crest. 

Probably because you’re disarmingly charming. You can talk your way out of practically anything.

Din sticks the blade into its holster and then tucks it against his back, the cloak falling forward to conceal it. “Thank you.” 

“Good luck,” his contact says, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands against his stomach.

The sun emerges from behind the clouds again as he searches the market for you and the child. It’s not a particularly dangerous planet, but you have a knack for trouble, not that you don’t also have a particular way of wriggling out of it. 

He sighs when he rounds a corner and finds you chatting with two people at a stall selling food. You’re focused on the woman in front of you, actively listening even as your hand sneaks food to the little green hand that pops out of the woven bag at your hip every few seconds. 

Din approaches and stops a few paces away, leaning against the corner of a wall and folding his hands in front of him to wait until you’re done. 

He’s content enough to indulge you in this, to wait until you’re done chatting. Though, as he’s come to realize recently, he’s content to indulge you in most things. He sometimes feels guilty that you’re often trapped with only him and the child in the Crest for days on end when you so clearly enjoy talking with people. You’re outgoing and talkative to his stoic and reserved. 

Your eyes flick to him, the grin on your face tugging a bit wider before you glance back to the people next to you. Though he would have waited there for you all day if that was what you required, he’ll be glad to have you back by his side. 

As Din watches you say your goodbyes to your temporary friends, that word flits through his mind again. 

Riduur.

Dangerous, hope laden. 

He tramps the thought down as he always does, buries the possessive twinge that the word works through his heart. 

You wave and turn away to approach him, your hand pushing back the blanket you’d layered over the top of the bag on your hip. To keep the sun off the baby, and keep prying eyes away from him. 

Long green ears poke up above the rim of the bag, suspicious chewing sounds echoing from within. 

“Find what you need?” You ask as Grogu finally pokes his head out, cooing up at him. Din settles a hand on the kid’s head for a moment before nodding at you. 

You tip your head to the side. “Well, I think we’re all done. The baby might be hungry-,” 

Grogu burps then, before he makes a sound that Din supposes must be a giggle. “I saw you feeding him,” he shares. 

You huff, “Well, he’s always hungry. Besides, that was just a snack.”

Din doesn’t respond. A smile tugs at his mouth as you pass another neon blue cracker down to the little waiting hand from the sleeve of them inside the shopping bag on your shoulder. He waits until the cracker has been taken from your fingers before subtly offering his arm to you as you begin your trek back to the ship. 

As always, a peel of anxiety settles in the pit of his gut as he waits for you to take it. And, as always, you take it without hesitation. 

Your hand settles firm and warm in the crook of his elbow. You tighten your grip and lean into him and he’s left to  wonder if it's conscious on your part, if you might be as drawn to him as he is to you. 

Either way, your weight is comfortable against him, your hand warm. The scent of you drifts up to him, your soap mixed with market scents, ash from cookfires, sun warmed leather, the breath of this humid world’s sweet air. 

There’s a curious hope that’s beginning to take shape in his chest. One that feels wrong almost, in its intensity. 

This is not something he could have ever hoped for, should have ever hoped for. 

And yet - 

First, the kid. 

Then you, tempering his initial meeting with Peli on Tatooine, protecting the child in his stead. He remembers Peli’s assurance when you accepted his offer to travel with him, of your penchant for job hopping. Never stays anywhere more than a couple months, had been her exact words, only been here a couple weeks. He had been assured that you’d be off on another adventure, with another person, on another world, within weeks. 

And, at the time, he hadn’t needed anything more than that. Temporary help. 

But years have passed, and you’re still by his side. 

Or, rather, he’s still by your side. If you decided to suddenly remove yourself from the Crest, he’s not sure what he’d do. He’s not sure how they’d fill the hole you would leave behind. 

You wouldn’t though. You are a part of the tiny clan he calls home. 

It’s unthinkable, the prospect, the notion, of you leaving him, them. 

What he intends to do next, then, is harder. 

Offering you the blade is only the first step of many. It’s an overdue one. He should have presented you with a weapon of your own long ago. He should have given you a courting gift long ago. Before he kissed you, shared a bed with you, let your fingers trace over the planes of his face, even if your eyes remained firmly shut. 

“So what did you need so urgently to pick up?” You ask as you emerge from the market and take a turn out of the center of the small town, still feeding pieces of the crackers to the child with your free hand. 

The world is a lush one, verdant with green undergrowth and prone to bouts of driving rain and humidity. The sun is still working its way through the sky as you cross out of the village and into the surrounding forest. 

“I never said it was urgent,” Din replies dryly, steadying you when you nearly trip over an exposed root. 

You smile and squeeze his elbow in thanks. “And that did not answer my question.” 

Din doesn’t answer immediately, instead watching the curve of your cheek, the way the sunlight catches in the feathering of your lashes. 

Din is always glad of the helmet. It provides safety. It lets him uphold his creed. But he’s none more grateful for it than recently. It allows him to watch you without fear of being caught, with the knowledge that you can’t see the way you make him blush and smile. 

“No,” he agrees. 

You roll your eyes at him, nudging your shoulder into his. “Cryptic,” you hum, your voice amused. 

When the ship comes into view, you release his arm and pull ahead of him. He automatically lowers the ship's ramp with the vambrace. You disappear inside the ship where he can hear you cooing to the child, banging around the hull as you settle in again and sort out whatever purchases you had made. 

It’s an oddly domestic moment, considering everything about your circumstances together. He has no doubt you’re indulging Grogu in something else. 

The dagger he means to give you weighs heavily against his spine, along with the pressure of the task he needs to complete, the offer he needs to make to you, officially. 

His relationship with you is a strange one. It’s one that seems to have started at the end and gone backwards, one that circles itself and eats its own tail. 

There are times he can’t imagine you not knowing that he intends you as his, and that he hopes that you feel the same. Like when he lies with you in the dark, helmet discarded somewhere near his feet, your careful hands tracing features you’ve never once asked to see. 

Seeing your face with his naked eyes for the first time, your features for the first time not distorted by the visor, had nearly upended everything inside him. How trustingly you’d tipped your head into his hands, waiting patiently for him to tell you what to do, or make a move. 

He could tell you felt no urge to open your eyes, no urge to take something from him he could never give you, not without making serious and lasting vows. 

Riduurok. Marriage. More literally: a love bond. 

Din longs to tell you to open your eyes in those moments, to let you see him as clearly as he sees you. Without any barriers. 

He shouldn’t have been able to see you like that, shouldn’t have been able to kiss you, shouldn’t have been able to touch you, sleep with you in his arms. 

He’s been lax, bending rules to the point of near breaking. 

Which is both dishonorable and unfair to you. You’re worth more than broken rules and fumblings in the dark. 

Still, he has to do something properly. And this is the thing he will do correctly, as is your right. As is his duty to you. 

It’s what you deserve. A proper offer, proper courting. Not whatever he’s been playing at so far. 

You are not Mandalorian, and you should also be afforded the chance to learn of his culture. To make a complete decision about him. Though he’s been teaching you some Mando’a phrases, you should see it all. Traditions and language and myths. To understand what you would be a part of. 

You and Grogu both, if he’s honest with himself. 

All he can do is lie everything at your feet and hope that he’s not found wanting. 

Something seizes in his heart, because you could reject it. You could easily reject the formality of it, tell him it had never been that serious to begin with. 

Din follows you into the Crest to find you patiently listening to the unintelligible chatter of the child. Wide brown eyes shift from you to him, tiny arms lifting. You smile and laugh, fidgeting with Grogu’s collar as Din shifts to lift him into his arms. 

He should give you the blade now, make promises to prove himself to you as an ally and partner, as worthy of you, capable of protecting you and the clan. But you’re already turning away, chattering about a bolt of cloth you’d seen in the market that you want to go back for before you have to leave the planet. 

“You should eat,” you remind him lightly, like he would forget if you didn’t tell him. Which, he supposes, is sometimes true. He forgets there’s more than ration packs to eat. “I’m going to shower.” You point to your bag, “Food for you.” 

“Yes,” he agrees. Then hastily says, “Wait.” He steps forward and snags your wrist in his hand before you can go any further.  

He shifts Grogu to the cradle of his other arm, nerves running up the inside of his skin. Cold sweat prickles at the back of his neck. 

You turn and lift a questioning brow. Whatever he meant to say sticks in his throat and he can’t find the words to say what he needs to. 

A smile plays around your lips. “You okay?” 

His hand is still on your wrist and he hastily releases you. “Yes.” 

“Okay,” you laugh. “So, what is it?” 

Din swallows, unsure if he’s going about this the right way. He knows what he should do, but he’d never seen it done before. There were few couples among the covert, and there had been periods without any couples at all.

He’s never had to do it before, never had to declare himself quite like this. “Nothing, cyare. It can wait.” 

You tilt your head. He can tell you’re amused. 

Instead of teasing him, you lean forward and tug at the lip of his helm. “Cyare,” you coo back at him before releasing him and turning into the fresher. 

There’s heat in his cheeks when the door slides closed.

“Mesh’la,” he hears you sing to yourself from within.

“It’s not really the same, is it?” 

Din is only pretending to look at the stars that are scattered in the darkened sky above the Razor Crest. The faintest rays of sunlight can still be seen on the horizon. The sun never quite sets on this world, perpetually lit with just the barest brushes of light. Purple spills into midnight blue, the sun a smear of tangerine and honey.

He’s watching you from the corner of his eye. You’re lounging in the co-pilot’s chair, one hand braced on Grogu’s floating pod. 

“You can’t see the stars properly with that light,” you grouse. “I always miss sleeping in hyperspace anyway.”

Din still doesn’t answer, watching the line of your throat, the shape of your curled legs, the shine of your eyes in the relative darkness. It's an imitation of the routine you have in hyperspace, watching the stars until you fall asleep, or until you’re ready to go to bed. 

Your gaze shifts from the sky to him, your eyes abruptly meeting his. “Are you alright?” When he just tilts his head at you, you roll your eyes. “You’re quieter than usual. Which means you’ve been very, very silent all day. Since we got back from the market.” 

“I enjoy listening to you,” he hedges. 

“Is that so? What was I just talking about?” 

“The stars,” he answers easily, not really entirely sure that’s true. 

Your gaze narrows. “An easy guess.” 

He chuckles lowly. “Then you should have picked a more difficult question, cyare.” 

Your mouth pulls up into a smile. “So, what’s wrong?”

The worry that’s been gnawing a slow hole through his stomach all day beats back to life. It clenches his lungs in a tight fist that doesn’t compute. 

Of all the things to give him pause. Of all the things to frighten him. 

It had to be this. 

This thing he has no experience of, no knowledge of, no one that he could have watched when he was younger to at least imitate. 

His mind slides past the covert, all the way back to his mother and father. He remembers the gentle moments between them, the easy love, even in hard times, that should have lasted for decades. 

That's how he feels with you. Like everything is easy.

Din swallows the image down, courage returning to him. 

“Cyar’ika,” he answers, turning to face you directly. “I have something I’d like to give you.”

You perk up at that, straightening in your seat. “Oh? Is that what you were being mysterious about earlier?” 

You’re smiling, the words a joke. 

Din just nods, too nervous to attempt teasing you back, though it doesn’t show. He’s as still and silent as he always is. Instead he holds out a hand. 

You readily stand, placing yourself between his legs, your fingers still on his. 

He stares up at you, admiring the way those last dregs of light you complained of wash your skin in a low orange and pink haze. He must look at you for too long, because you suddenly jut out an impatient hip and fist your free hand on your waist, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

Despite himself, he huffs out a laugh. 

Din takes a steadying breath and reaches behind himself for the sheathed weapon at his back from beneath his cloak.

When he presents it to you, there isn’t a single word he can think to say. All those crashing thoughts of proving himself, of making vows to you someday and everyday in between, falls away, and he’s left adrift with nothing but the blade in his gloved hand.

He really isn’t even sure if he should say something. He’s not sure if it's normally done. 

He looks from your face, down to the knife and back again. 

A small frown has embedded itself on your face. You release his hand and reach out for it with both. Din hands it over carefully, watching you closely. 

You pull the blade from the sheath slowly, eyes roving over the dark metal, the polished handle. You align your fingers over the grip before your lips part softly, brow scrunching. Din opens his mouth, but you shake your head, peering at the lettering along the side of the blade. 

The language and script is foreign to you, he knows, etched in Mando’a. 

“It’s beautiful, but I can’t accept this.” His heart plummets, the air around him seeming thicker than before, hard to breathe. It all seems like a terrible miscalculation all of a sudden. His fear had been that you might reject it, but a much worse worry swims to the front of his mind. 

You could leave. If it offends you. 

“Din, this must have cost so much - you have so many weapons I can borrow. I’m not a fighter. I don’t even carry-,” you break off and shake your head again. “It’s too much.” 

Some of the tension in his chest releases. 

Din covers your hand, stopping the motion of you sliding the dagger back into the leather. His shoulders loosen by a fraction more, his heart not galloping quite so hard. “Please accept this.” A note of desperation slips into his voice, which he makes no effort to clear away. 

“I’m not a fighter, Din,” you repeat as your mouth pulls into a small smile. “It’s too much. It’s better with you, really.” 

He frowns at you, tilting his head. “That is not the point, cyare.” Din cups his hand around yours and guides it to the grip of the knife. “The point is that it’s yours. That I am offering it to you.” 

There are other things he should say to you, other promises he should make, he knows that, but he can’t bring himself to speak them. “It is yours,” he repeats. “As you are owed”  

You tilt your head and consider the blade again, pulling it slowly from the holster. “Owed,” you echo, a thread of confusion still laced in your voice, a question mark perched on the tip of your tongue. “But it is beautiful,” you say again, more confidently this time, turning it in your grip. 

He relaxes a little more when you seem to understand its meaning. 

“But the cost-,” 

He almost scoffs. He’s offering you his heart and you are worried about the cost. 

“It’s nothing. The smith owed me a favor,” Din says, watching as the smile on your face grows into something genuine. 

Unlike yourself, almost shyly, you ask, “It’s really mine?” 

He gives a simple nod of his head. “You’re proficient with knives,” he attempts to explain his choice. In a perfect world, he would have gifted you something cast from beskar. A piece of armor. But, the world wouldn’t be perfect then, you would be a very different person if you were one to wear armor as he does. 

“I had a good teacher,” you tease. “Thank you. You…didn’t have to go through all this though.” You peer at him from beneath your lashes. 

Din doesn’t answer, a smile easing onto his own face. He feels lighter, now. “What is this?” You point to the letters engraved on the blade. “I’ve never seen this script before.” 

“Take a guess, cyare.” 

You blink at him. “It’s not Mando’a is it?” You ask excitedly.

“It is.” 

“Well,” you say impatiently, lifting the metal closer to your face. “What does it say?”

He huffs a small laugh at your demanding tone. 

“Kar'taylir darasuum,” he says, taking your hand to lower the blade a fraction, pointing to each word as he speaks it. “To hold in the heart.” 

To hold in the heart forever, he should say. He should tell you that its literal equivalent in Basic is essentially to love. 

He doesn’t, his coward’s heart in this thing alone rising up again. 

You blink at him, a strange expression pulling over your features before you seem to shake the thought away. 

“Say it again,” you request. 

He repeats the words slowly, and you sound them out after him. You smile widely when he says, “Your accent is good.” 

“Thank you, Din,” you say, finally sliding the blade back into its sheath. His eyes flash up to yours when you press your free hand to the slide of his helmet. He doesn't blink, can't even draw a breath as you tilt his head up and bring your forehead to his in a gentle tap.

You rest like that for a moment, eyes fluttering closed, before you abruptly pull away.

He's done so much with you, seen more of you than he should have, but nothing rivals that moment, the kiss of your forehead to his.

“We should probably take the little one to bed, don’t you think?” You straighten and drop your hand. “I won’t sleep up here tonight,” you point to the sun. 

Din stands, presses a hand to your back. He’s more than happy to follow you down into the dark hull. Once the baby is settled and you’re pressed together, he removes his helmet and kisses you, first your closed eyelids, a thank you for something he isn’t sure he deserves. 

He wonders for just a moment, when you grin against his mouth, if you understand what just happened. 

But he pushes the thought away. 

There’s no way such a gift could be interpreted any other way. 

This is the beginning of him doing something right. He’ll teach you more Mando’a, he’ll share the myths held sacred by his people, he’ll remove his armor before you. 

He would lie all at your feet and hope that it might be enough. 

One day, he might actually be able to call you what he has trouble reminding himself you aren’t already. 

Riduur. 

You’re molded to him in the dark, and the promise is more than enough for now. 

There's no way you don't know what it all means.

Thank you for reading! Please let me know your thoughts!

Translations:

Riduur - spouse, partner, wife, husband

Cyare - beloved

Cyar'ika - darling, sweetheart

[mira-selfships]

I’LL MAKE THIS FEEL LIKE HOME

cw: nsfw, 18+. minors and ageless blogs will be blocked for interacting. wc 6k. todoroki fam lore. bnha manga + s6 spoilers. angst and fluff and smut and love and

“Do you feel held by him? Does he feel like home to you?”

- Midsommar (2019)

Touya was eight years old when his youngest brother was born—the same age realized that his house no longer felt like home. 

And while it never fit the traditional cookie-cutter feeling of a home before then, it was comforting in its own kind of way. It was definite, something that he could hold onto and strive towards. Something that was there at the end of the day, no matter how badly his hands burned or how quiet the dinner table was. 

Because before Shouto was born, there was still a chance. 

Fuyumi and Natsuo were just as much of failures as he was—it was anyone’s game. He could keep pushing, train his hand to defy the science of his body and deal with it. Become what his father wanted so badly he’d kill for. That was home, the knowledge that there was still a chance for him. 

But the moment Shouto was born, hair perfectly split the same as his flawlessly cursed body, Touya knew. 

Instantly, he knew that his time was over—that there was no saving his dream of making his father proud. He hadn’t been enough, and he would have to live with that, in a house that’s no home with a family that lives in the shadow of what he never got to be. 

He carries that feeling everywhere he goes. Like an eternal kink in his neck, it weighs heavy on his shoulders and disintegrates the marrow of his bones. Forever the boy without a home, Dabi continues to do what he does best—or maybe worst—and he survives. 

But, you don’t remember when Dabi became home to you. 

Keep reading

[mira-selfships]

VASH x PLANT ENGINEER!READER

volte-face; noun: a sudden change from one set of beliefs or plan of action to the opposite.

synopsis; plant engineers are a rarity in no man's land, let alone good ones. you stand as one of the best humanity has to offer, having worked alongside vash for two years to alleviate the suffering of humans and plants alike. you're immediately attracted to the rumors of plants dying in a metropolis built above a geoplant hub; an oasis in the desert. with no way to know whether the city actually exists, you and vash set out into the unforgiving wasteland, chasing myths, and unprepared for what's hidden at the end.

chapter one warnings; you & vash have a complicated relationship, lots of drinking, a kiss, some pretty heavy dependency from vash towards you, detail & prose heavy, some canon divergence, spoilers to tristamp, tristamp!vash coded w/ aspects of trimax!vash and trimax included.

word count; 6,774

CHAPTER ONE: RUMOR HAS IT...

It was the man with one eye and a top row of silver teeth hunkered over a bottle of jack who spoke of New Oregon; a city-oasis veiled by beige wasteland and tempestuous sandstorms. A heavy haze of gray smoke and booze made the air in the cramped space stagnant; hard to breathe, sending the man into a fit of dry sputters that he chased with the burn of whiskey down his throat.

He never offered his name once that evening; a drunk nobody like everyone else there. It didn't matter how they crowed about bounties and conquests, modified their bodies with gatling guns, metal, shiny gold or silver. They simply didn't matter, so their nights were spent suffocating on dirty air that dimmed the flickering amber light from metal lampshades overhead, and the smell of unwashed men.

Not many turned from their card games or glistening liquid in sticky cups to hear this prattling fool at the bar, though. He was a regular; morning, day, and night, in fact. A sad shape of a man desperately clinging to any lasting stares, or perhaps remnants of a better time in his life imitated through liquid courage.

Boisterous, nonsensical, slurring words through coughs that made his barrel-shaped chest flounce, he was extremely ignored by everyone--

All except for you and Vash.

In a nondescript little corner of the bar nearest to a brown-tinted window just slightly cracked, you swirled around the speckled ice cubes in your glass; loud enough to hear it, not loud enough fade the man's adamant claims.

"Bah, no one here wants to hear it, but I'm tellin' y'all! It's a whole damn city! No, no, wait!" He forced more whiskey down his throat, wetting his mustache when he nearly missed. "It's bigger! It's like July, a metropolis! Except, it doesn't look like July, it- it- it looks like- like- shit, I don't know. It's nothin' like we've ever seen here on No Man's Land!

"It's all lush, lush, lush green! There are water fountains, and trees and flowers! Flowers! You've heard of 'em, right? They're all livin' in a real lap of luxury there. Been hearin', though, that it's goin' extinct like everywhere else; plants are dyin' off. Innit just shit? I haven't even had a chance to look for it yet."

Everyone in the bar knew that New Oregon was a fabled place, sort of like a eutopia; somewhere, if you found it, you could live out the rest of your days in comfort and bliss. Surviving human artifacts from the bygone millennia on earth told legends of similar places: El Dorado, Atlantis, Avalon, and Zerzura. All places humans wanted to venture to, yet have never found. And never would.

Vash nursed his drink, the alcohol here didn't leave a good taste in his mouth, and neither did the stifling air. He looked to you occasionally, perhaps watching you more closely than he did anyone else in the bar. You were oddly fixated on this man's story and for good reason--

You were a plant engineer; one of the few, one of the best humanity had to offer at this point. Staking out the saloons and unsavory spots in outposts and trading posts for information on towns falling into disrepair and death was your hobby; tracking down these places and their plants was your bread and butter.

"You ain't ever even been to New Oregon; who you getting your info from, brother?" called a newcomer to the bar, throwing down his losing hand in poker. "These rumors are starting to get around more now. You're the fifth person in two months I've heard talk about that damn place."

Elated, the drunk shouted back across the room with all the eagerness of a smart schoolboy, "Lambertonville! One-fifty iles southeast! Good watering hole, lots of hawkers. There's a guy named Jetson, said he used to sell in New Oregon a while back."

A couple of the men groaned, laying down their cards, slugging their absinthe, whiskeys, and beers. "It's all crock! All bullshit! New Oregon is just made up, we're tryin' to have a good night. Stop talkin' about it!"

"It ain't made up!" he thrust a fist onto the solid wood bar repeatedly. "It's a geoplant hub! Are you gonna say those don't exist, because they do!"

Vash took a finical sip, mainly trying to wrap his tongue around a chipped piece of ice. It crunched against his molars as he chewed slowly, gaze darting between the quarreling men, to the splendiant look in your eye just as you hopped to your feet and made for the doors.

"I don't know if you're going to be able to convince Meryl to drive one-hundred fifty iles to this place." Vash admitted to you on the way back to the hotel, shaking his slight buzz off into the cold night air. "It sounds like a longshot to follow rumors from a random guy in a bar."

"Don't worry about it." You said, untying the white coat at your waist to slip your arms through it. "I've got an idea."

Vash was worried clear up until the point of the one-hundredth ile ticking on the van's dashboard several hours later. Meryl drove with a otherworldly determination now; skillfully weaving the vehicle around mountainous sand dunes, looming rib bones of ancient beasts long gone, and the frequent wild thomas attempting to cool their bodies in layers of dust.

"What did you say to her?" Vash tried to pry out of you more than once in that four-hour trip.

You had your jacket bunched up against his shoulder, a comfortable barrier between you and him until he tried flattening it down to whisper in your ear.

He was too close, so you swatted the air near his face. You stumbled through your words, letting your grogginess win over actually caring enough to explain. "Exclusive interview with magical hawkers saves humanity in the city."

It wasn't as obvious to decipher what you actually meant to say.

For a while, he left you alone to drift off into a mostly heat-induced nap, your thighs still housing a tremendous insulated tumbler. The water and ice cubes would slosh and chatter against metal walls, only briefly eclipsing the roaring engine pulling the vehicle your bodies through the sand. Roberto's snores from the passenger seat came closer to dwarfing either of those, though.

You slept more heavily during the day than any other time, he noticed. Often times spending your nights in town or rummaging your twin dufflebags of equipment to account for each and every piece; all components necessary to repair the reactors housing plants. You were meticulous and careful; clinical yet easily one of the more excitable people he'd ever met.

He only ever saw you wrapped up in a task or work, or sleeping, rarely anything in between. A byproduct of your upbringing in a pale, sterile, and technical environment more focused on progression and results, rather than personal development within.

Still, he could think on you fondly. A very rare, single constant he's had in his life for two years since you left that pristine environment with bright lights, holopads, and computers. You had told him once, fate decidedly pushing you to cross paths again in the desert, that progress couldn't happen by waiting like Luida chose to do with her glass dome and flora.

A faint smile touched his lips when he looked across the balled fabric at you, finally resting after a long night. You didn't stir when he shifted his arm, letting your head and body slump into a new crevice he made--hopefully more comfortable for you than having your neck bent at an odd angle.

He looked up when Wolfwood moved--switching one cramped, crossed leg for the other--not missing the meaningful, pointed stare he received through the other man's darkly tinted sunglasses. The bent cigarette bounced as it was pinched in a crooked, knowing smile and silent laughter that instantly sent Vash's gaze sweeping to the blurred, brown landscape out the window with a body-wide burn that he suppressed.

It stayed like that for the last hour or two of the trip; complete silence apart from Roberto's planet-shaking rumbles and the engine sputtering beneath oppression of the binary suns. They glowed white and hot, vaguely reminiscent of the searing fluorescent lights that plagued his youth; long hours simply lying and staring, unfocused and shackled by his own unwillingness to move.

Some days, it felt like nothing had changed at all.

Lambertonville appeared distantly just before dusk, while the pitched rooftops of houses and reaching steeples of sleepy churches were caressed by the faraway sky hued in wreaths of scarlet and orange. They were chased away by the sprawl of night, of a black blanket dappled by uncountable glittering stars observed only by a pair of moons slowly rising overhead.

The headlights on the van illuminated an old wood sign hanging above the entrance to town, all at once fading to dark when Meryl killed the ignition, slumping over the wheel while gripping it with both hands.

"We finally made it." She expelled a hard breath, almost as though she had been holding it for a long time. "It was starting to feel like we'd never get here. I'm so hungry and tired. I want to take a bath."

"No rest for the weary, rookie." Roberto said, unclipping his seatbelt to let it reel back into its slot near his head. "We still gotta check in somewhere and move our luggage. Don't forget to consolidate your notes for your article, too."

Meryl nearly triggered the horn when her forehead landed with a dull thunk on the steering wheel, her sighs of suffering growing. "Sure thing, boss."

"Must be hell to be a reporter." Wolfwood mused aloud, barely pushing the door ajar with his foot before his hands were cupping a quivering flame and he was puffing away on his cigarette. "Can't say I envy either of you. Oi, Spikey. Buttercup. You both awake?"

"With how loud you talk, it's impossible not to be." You groused, sorely tempted to send your tumbler rocketing at his head while collecting your things. "I have a name, Churchman."

He grinned. "Could've fooled me, Sweetcheeks."

"Oh, shut up."

Wolfwood sucked in a breath and shrugged, throwing the door shut when you chose to get out on Vash's side; a trivial act of petty vengeance, but certainly one that he would retaliate at some point, somewhere down the line.

When you finally had your bearings after the long car ride; hard stretches and bends, joints cracking as you flexed them out and wrung out your spine, everyone's belongings were laid out in the sand with exception to your white jacket. Vash approached you with it neatly folded, a few creases forming that he looked particularly doleful about, as though if were his responsibility to fix.

"It shouldn't be too hard to get them out," he was telling you, hiking the narrow strap on his knapsack higher onto his shoulder. It was then that you noticed your black dufflebags hanging off of his other one, managing the weight of all of your equipment with impressive ease.

He saw your eyes, offering a disarming smile as he tilted that side towards you. "You just woke up. I thought I'd just lend you a hand. I can't believe you carry these around everywhere, they're pretty heavy."

Once slipping into your coat, you took your bags from him and flattened the shoulder straps on your body. "I guess some people are just built differently."

Your back was to him then, starting after Meryl and Roberto to hunt down the cheapest inn that'd take your double-dollars. The look he fixed on you was one he didn't think was possible to show to your face; wistful and somber, a beautiful ache spurred by memories that gouged him whenever you were near. You were a working mechanism in his daily life; part of routine, part of a peaceful sameness he desperately sought out, yet eluded him and slipped through his fingers like water.

If you weren't there now, he wasn't sure if he could go back to how it used to be. Wandering. Wandering. Wandering aimlessly and all alone; lost amid the vastness of No Man Land's desolation, praying the next town would hold out longer than the rest.

And yet, he saw all the things in you that he didn't want to. He saw the suffering of humanity in you and what it meant to claw and struggle to survive; saw hope and depravity in the white coat you kept close, now lightly browned from age and elements. He saw his past when he looked at you, the very thing that kept him walking on and on and on...

"I'll be back later." You announced to the group a little later on, having antsily tossed aside your equipment in the room you planned to share with Meryl and Roberto. "I'll try to be quiet when I come back."

This was work time, everyone knew.

No one tried to stop you on your way out, Vash and Wolfwood keeping pace, flanking you on either side. It was easy enough for them to anticipate where you were going: the closest dirty, rowdy bar you could find to scrape out some information, or buy it with a couple of shots of hard liquor.

Wolfwood was a simple man, he held as much interest in your investment with plants as he did knowing whatever Meryl's next article was about. What he did enjoy, though, was a lively crowd after half a bottle of whiskey. Besides, places with cheap booze always had the best food, for whatever reason.

You did a double-take towards Vash, catching the dull sheen across his eyes; a distracted, thousand-yard stare.

He nearly started, pulling at the cold arm you touched. "Hey, you doing okay? You should go back to the inn and sleep off today."

"Yeah," Wolfwood injected, flicking his lighter a few times until the bud of his new cigarette glowed hot. "Don't think I saw you sleep at all the entire ride. Besides, a bar in a trading town probably isn't the best place for you to be, Spikey."

When he gestured past you both, towards a nearby building with bullet holes pocking outmost layers of brick and limestone, you saw a row of wanted posters. It was everything you could do to keep yourself from yelling expletives as you rushed over, tore them down, shredded them in half, and let the breeze carry them far, far away.

"Nice work." Wolfwood clapped languidly, giving your shoulder a hard smack on his way by. "Just gotta do that with the hundreds of other ones hanging around."

You could kill him sometimes, you really could.

"Vash." He didn't look at you immediately. "Seriously, you should probably head back. These small towns are the worst places for us to be. All it takes is one person to recognize you."

He already knew that. He's already heard it all from you before. Many times over.

"What about you?" he said, at last, motioning weakly with a hand to your mostly white uniform. "You stick out a lot more than most people. No one is going to see you and think you belong there."

You spaced your arms and legs out, looking down at yourself, frantically patting away dust on your pants. "Do you know how expensive clothes are? Besides, everything is heat resistant. I'd probably actually die of heat stroke if I wore anything else."

He was inclined to agree.

You yanked the coat zipper down when he spoke again. "What I'm saying is: I'm not letting you go alone."

"Mister sixty-million-double-dollar bounty, I think you need to worry more about yourself. Besides," you pulled away one side, the handle of a pistol peeking out from a brown holster. "I'm packing, too. If it came down to it, I'd be just fine."

"As if you know how to shoot!" Wolfwood yelled from somewhere, his voice carrying on the breeze and spearing through the back of your head with all the sting of an untuned instrument.

Tonight, you would kill him.

Wolfwood was right, Vash thought glumly. This was all talk; handling weapons much less firing them was nowhere within your scope of practice, nor expertise. In the two years he had traveled with you, that gun had never been set off once. He had been the one to force it into your hands following a particularly nasty scuffle, one where you almost didn't make it out with him.

You scared him that day, and you still manage to scare him most days in how you purposefully flaunted yourself around, brandishing the uniform on your body in hopes it attracted the very attention he tried so hard to thwart.

"Can..." Vash had to sigh, shoulders rolling forward as he rubbed his nape. "Can we at least stick to the back corners or something? Out of the way?"

That's exactly what didn't happen.

Vash sat at the bar, fingers so tightly clenched around his bourbon he thought he felt the glass splinter against his skin. The insides of his cheeks were raw from how long his teeth had been gnawing on skin. He had been sitting with the same drink for over an hour now, too tight in his shoulders and back to will himself to take a sip, too on edge to think he even could.

The bar met every expectation between the three of you; Wolfwood was having an adamant chess tournament, the long neck of a bottle of wild turkey closed in his fist while he and others hollered over every poor move and checkmate.

Fortunately, you stayed nearby to Vash despite having about three shots in you already. Just enough to loosen you up to socialize and pry for information; always work related, never for pleasure. Vash kept his eyes on you whenever you roamed away, palms full and fingers splayed across multiple shooters that you passed around. The favorite beverage of hapless, drunk men.

"Jetson?" echoed one man returning for a drink. You handed it to him, he thanked you, slammed it back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Jetson. Jetson. Oh! That hawker guy. Yeah, he's been long gone for a few weeks. Who knows where he's at now."

Not what you were hoping to hear. "That sucks. Well, he share anything about a place called New Oregon?"

"That mythical city or whatever?" came a new voice, this one belonging to a fairly young, lanky lad. He didn't look old enough for alcohol, though laws like that didn't really apply to towns sitting this far away from major cities. "I remember people talking about it. It's supposed to be some sort of oasis, right? Run by geoplants?"

The first man nodded. "S'posed to be a big hub for 'em, I guess."

"I've heard rumors about their plants dying." You said, leaning a hip into the nearest table while looking between them both. "Anyone mentioned that around here recently?"

"Well," the young guy started, pouting when you kept the drinks in your hand out of reach. "I don't know if it's related, but there were a couple of merchants here last week talkin' about how these really wild sandstorms keep picking up near Serpent's Tongue. And they're just too... weird to be natural."

The one man squeezed a whistle through his parched lips, kneading them together after downing another shot. "Serpent's Tongue is a ways out there. Didn't realize these guys were going that damn far."

"How far are we talking here?" you asked, skeptically.

"Let's put it like this," the drunkard stumbled closer to you, holding both his hands erect and a distance from each other. "You're gonna have an easier time getting to July; sand steemer, fed checkpoints, all of that stuff. That's almost two weeks. Serpent's Tongue is two huge rock faces with a passage between 'em. Real nasty area in certain parts. You're lookin' at almost a month just to get there, not countin' how many days you stop to build your strength back up."

You nearly let the liquor in your hand smash to the ground at the mention. The very notion of spending a month or more on the move to a city that may or may not exist was insane. It would mean a month of praying the elements didn't get you first, that bandits didn't find you, that grand sandworms didn't plague those areas.

"Has anyone ever actually been to New Oregon?" you pressed, taking a shot for yourself to dull the panic beginning to twist in your gut. "Has anything ever been verified? Anything at all?"

The lad watched you pointedly, heard the glass clicking as your fingers curled into the makings of a fist. "You tryna go there? I don't think you'll have any luck, but something I'm remembering: Apparently there were some wind turbines in the area. They weren't old, either."

You felt your heart pinch in your chest and then lodge in your throat, this was the feeling you lived for. The sheer elation of a breakthrough, a sliver of light somewhere cast in darkness. The very small, very few straws you could grasp and hold onto with dear life.

This was justification enough.

With a splendid smile that pulled your lips taut over your teeth, you said, "Two things: A map, and where do you stable your thomases?"

Vash tried to gauge the bright look on your face as best he could. You had been that way since meandering back to his side, finally satisfied enough in your pursuit to sit down at the bar and order something a little more digestible. He watched your lips dance across the rim of your cup, teeth clicking into the glass a time or two, letting your mind hazily turn over the possibilities.

At that point, his shoulders were a little loose and he was on his third drink, having switched over to jack a while ago. He had questions he wanted to ask: Who did you talk to? What did they say? What are we going to do? What was that pamphlet they gave you?

He couldn't will himself to utter any of it; instead, he leaned forward on his arms, pads gripping the wide rim on his glass while observing you and your entire lightness. A side of you he rarely saw apart from a successful job; a glimmer of happiness often so easily stripped away.

It looked dazzling on you. He smiled tenderly.

"Alright, compadres!" Wolfwood was at both your ears suddenly, an arm over each neck as his weight bore down. "I can say that these hicks don't know shit about chess. I'm also fucked up. Time to go."

Your malicious edge had all but dissipated by now, giving way to someone far more malleable. Between the three of you, it was bottoms-up one more time, the hot liquid gaining purchase in your throats as it burned inside your nostrils and behind your eyes. A nice way to keep warm as you left the bar, the cold desert air still making your teeth clatter as it caressed your neck and jaw.

Far ahead of you, there were glints of orange and the smell of smoke. Wolfwood wasn't looking back at either of you, now grumbling on about the inbred hillbillies not knowing how to play chess, and resorting to cheating. You meant to take it that he lost a few too many games, and couldn't stand to sulk about it in the bar with everyone around.

"Better luck next time, Pastard*." You laughed.

He stuck a finger up at you, pocketing that hand afterward to keep it from getting numb. "You guys are too slow. Figure out your way back on your own."

Vash tilted towards you, whispering conspiratorially, "I think you struck a nerve."

"I think anything we say to him strikes a nerve." You rejoined.

"Yeah," he looked over his lenses, trying to scope out any lasting trace of Wolfwood, finding none. "Can we get back on our own? Was the inn along the main street, or the next one over? I think I drank too much."

You grunted at him, giving him a once over while sidling some paces away so he couldn't reach you even if he projectile vomited. His only response was to whine pitifully and apologize, once again closing that gap as you both swayed along the unpaved road, stirring up puffs of dust and sand that felt coarse in your throats when you'd laugh.

It wasn't as cold as it usually was at night, a simple thought that crossed your mind. You figured it was all because of your shift in good fortune for a change, the booze playing a secondary role in it. Maybe, you considered, it was also Vash's shoulder brushing against yours while you walked. For some reason, you noticed it so much more right now.

And so did he.

Trying to keep his mind elsewhere, on anything other than that slight pressure when you'd bump into him felt insurmountable in that moment. He let his eyes roam all around; noting the rusted street lamps with cloudy glass cages glowing a murky yellow, homes casting pillars of light into the streets through curtained windows, relishing how unaffected Lambertonville felt to everything outside of it.

It was the type of place he'd try to hang onto for as long as he could; days, a few weeks, a month at most with any luck. He would get to know names, the regulars at the bars, all of the local gossip and food. An impermanent haven where he could rest awhile and know you were safe.

Vash felt it then, yours and his knuckles touching, brief, but burning. The world spun around him a little too fast when he stepped away, opening the space between your bodies as much as he could, but managing to tangle his legs in a bucket that sent him staggering into the side of a building. He caught himself easily enough, the cold off the brick seeping through his skin and bone, straight to his nerves and spine.

He heard you call out. "Whoaaa, you okay?!"

"I'm good! I'm good!" he assured, raising a hand towards you as proof. It didn't stop you from trotting over anyway, nearly smacking into the wall yourself when your shin caught the very same bucket. "Are you good? I really think we overdid it tonight."

You edged along crumbling, ruddy brick with your shoulder, getting close enough to pluck one of the arms of his sunglasses from behind his ear and then the other. They were tucked away neatly in his coat pocket now, leaving you to fully see him bathed under a warm, faint glow from overhead.

"We're fine." You said, moving in until your chests just touched. "It was nice to have a few drinks with you."

Vash didn't know what to say, he didn't know what to do or think. All he knew is that he didn't want to move away, something kept his legs rooted there; waiting and anticipating, sending his heart into a frenzy against his ribs. And, when he felt your cold fingertips press into the sides of his face, guiding his head down to where your lips met his in fervor, everything went blank.

Your hands pushed divots into his skin, thumbs resting against the peaks of his cheekbones. The kiss was hard, leaving a searing imprint in his mind and on his lips. It was such an unfamiliar thing; the feeling, what he imagined a kiss was like, you so near in proximity he wanted to melt into the warmth shared between your bodies.

And, it was so quick. Just when he had gathered the nerve to reach for your shoulders, nursed the thought of kissing you back-- you pushed him away with a satisfied smile and gentle slap to both his cheeks.

He yelped, taking the chance to shield as much of the red blistering across his face as he could. "What- what was that for?!"

"That was for helping me out last night," you wagged a finger at him, stilling it midair. "For tonight too, actually. I just wanted to thank you for everything up until this point. I know following me around looking for plants isn't what you want to do. So, do me a favor and don't."

He wasn't processing what you were saying, troubled creases forming in his brow. "Where is this coming from?

"Oh," you scoffed, swiveling the balls of your feet, arms shooting out at your sides to catch your balance. "Don't worry about it. It's nothing. Let's make sure Wolfwood got back, and get some sleep. I have a feeling we're gonna have some nasty hangovers."

Three o' clock rolled around hours later and he was still thinking about what you said. Vash wasn't sure how much sleep he actually got before giving up, knowing he had spent most of the night thrashing on the mattress, making old boards underneath groan and squeal.

Wolfwood had made a point to hurl his wadded up, dirty socks and both loafers across the room, slurring out any expletive he could come up with when Vash moved around too much. After several minutes, things settled once again and Wolfwood's snores were a welcoming invitation for him to scoot his back upright against the headboard, eyes trained at the empty streets outside the window next to his bed.

Too much had happened in one day for him to be able to muddle through it all right now. More than anything else, he wanted to know what was going on with you; why you were so preoccupied by rumors of a place that may been conjured up by men on the verge of death-- a final deception from their brains to make the agony bearable.

'What did you figure out? Why won't you tell me?'

His eyes swept the moonlit streets. Unlike before where the street lamps faintly illuminated your paths to guide you back to the inn, the lights housed within walls of dingy glass had all extinguished, leaving just the pale glow from the binary moons to shine off of gabled, tin rooftops and the corners of metal signs swinging by rusty chains in the wind. Simultaneously an eerie, peaceful scene that did well quiet his distress, until--

You came into view of the window, riding astride a fully saddled thomas with your dufflebags and belongings tied down behind your seat. A high beam flashlight lit your way through town towards the looming archway leading out into the desert.

Vash came close to smashing his face against the window, his warm breath trembled and fogged over the glass. His mind started to race as he scrambled off of the bed, hobbling around creaky floorboards by the tips of his toes, slipping on socks and boots and his coat, cramming all his things into the tawny bag he had slung across his shoulder by the time he was closing the door behind him.

Why were you leaving without saying anything?

Why were you leaving without him?

Why were you being this way?

The thomas let out an agitated cry, stretching its long neck to peck at him as he tightened the girth around its undercarriage. He moved his fingers in time to avoid being bit, giving the large avian gentle shoves until it grew tired and relented to his weight soon settling on its back.

He ran the large beast for a long time, wondering just how far out you managed to get. A column of hot white light bounced across the dark ground, showing him tracks already being swallowed by sand and dust, carried by frigid southern currents. It wasn't until those same prints started appear more vividly; newer until very fresh that the lines in his face smoothed with a wave of a relief wracking his body.

You had finally slowed your thomas, giving it just enough rein so it could move it's neck more freely. It stayed on path dutifully as you unfolded the map the drunk man in the bar had given you a short while ago. The paper opened more wide than tall, sprawling most of your arm span and seemed to cover most of the explored territories on No Man's Land.

"So, next town is going to be Jukeblight." You spoke into the air, moving your wrist across the map, dulling your flashlight. "That's about three days. Yoke is--"

There was a sound. Rustling sand moving fast.

You whirled around in your seat, flashlight set to maximum and spinning around your body. It could've just been a bird, or a hive of worms that were startled by the noise, at worst a smaller sandworm looking for its dinner. It was all meant to keep your composure, though you immediately lost it when you flicked the light towards the right of you, snaring a flash of red in the glare.

Vash caught you by the side of your coat, keeping you in the saddle despite screaming and nearly falling off the other side. "Hey! It's me, it's just me!"

"Vash?!" you didn't know whether to be glad, or throttle him. Either way, you slapped his hand off of you once he pulled you center in the saddle. "You're following me even though I told you not to?"

"It sounded more like a suggestion to me." He replied, gaze flicking towards the map now creased in the corners from your scare. You offered him a view with light, giving him time to study it. "How are we going to find New Oregon when it isn't even on the map?"

With the way he was already talking, you knew he would be in it for the long haul, dissuading him now would be impossible. "I'll catch you up to speed later. It's going to take us a month to get there."

Vash's jaw unhinged, emitting an airy groan in disbelief. "A month?! Seriously? You're- you're really being serious about this?"

"Of course," you said, tucking the map back into a satchel hanging off the side of your thomas' breastbone. "I've been serious about this since day one."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Vash never looked away from you. "We've got some really vague clues with no guarantee New Oregon is real. We could be just going around in circles."

Your eyes were fixed straight ahead stubbornly. "Then, wouldn't it be easier for you to go back?"

"I won't do that." He frowned. "I'm not going back without you."

This was a constant with him. No matter how hard you'd try to shake him off, turn him around, lose him-- he'd always find you, completely unpeturbable regardless of your nastiest tactics and vitriolic comments. If anything you said to him left a lasting scar on his heart, he never showed it.

Still, it didn't stop you from trying time and time again.

"To be honest," you sighed, "I was hoping you would be drunk enough to just sleep through the night."

He gave you a reaction; mouth agape again, face twisted in despair, eyes gleaming in a way that nearly convinced you he would start to cry.

"That's the only reason you've been letting me drink with you?"

You tipped your chin down into the collar of your jacket, masking a smile trying to tug your lips. "Duh. I always forget how fast your body metabolizes everything under the suns, though. Being a plant has its benefits, I guess."

Vash turned away sharply, nose in the air, chest flouncing with one large puff of air. "That's a dirty move, even for you."

"Can you blame me?" he definitely thought he could, but bated his words, letting you finish first. Something shifted in your demeanor as your shoulders sunk a little deeper in the oversized coat, sweaty palms making the stiff reins squeal. "Will you be able to handle the pain of being there with me?"

His lips were forced thin and tight.

"A theoretical city that size doesn't run on just a handful of plants, Vash." You said quietly, voice above the distant howls of wind and skittering sand. "If we find it, there's no telling what we'll see."

It came back to these moments most days. They reminded him why you could be as elusive as you were towards him. One of his sisters in agony was hard enough, he didn't want to imagine dozens of them screaming at once; a cruel cacophony of suffering. And he would be the only one to bear it all.

"Vash?"

"I'm not sure." He was honest, a solemn gaze towards the horizon where dawn broke through the shroud of night, bringing with it a burning sky and the first warm breeze of the day. "I won't know until I'm standing there with them."

The conversation whittled away after that; you had nothing comforting you could say to him. It wasn't your thing, and it wasn't realistic given the nature of your work. He knew that just as well, perhaps it was the reason why the silence worked so well between you in these moments. It was amicable, calm, and easy; part of the reliable sameness that he sought out from you.

"So," he tried again after a while, venturing a curious look that you met with a tired one. "You didn't let anyone know you were leaving, did you?"

"Do you ever?"

He sputtered in embarrassment, hunching over his beast with a pout that made your nostrils flare when you laughed.

You grinned. "I left a note, actually."

"Really? A note?"

"Yeah." You said. "They have all the details they need to know. Maybe we'll cross paths with them again in the future."

Once again, the somewhat somber look returned to Vash's face. In some ways, it was bittersweet knowing that they wouldn't be able to follow you two anymore; their journeys would continue separate from your own. Your intention for leaving them behind was equal parts selfishness and love, something you would never freely acknowledge, but something he knew to be true.

He kept his thomas in stride alongside yours, flicking out the arms of his orange-tinted lenses as he set them on his nose and looked out towards the rising suns.

"Yeah, it'd be nice."

LATER...

The upstairs of the inn was steeped in chaos by eight in the morning. Heavy footfalls rattled the light fixtures in the downstairs dining room, frantic shouts traveled from individual rooms towards the main staircase as Meryl, Roberto, and Wolfwood stomped their ways down with their things hardly in shape to travel.

"I- I can't believe they left us behind again!" Meryl didn't hide the flush of frustration on her face, fist overhand on her luggage as she yanked it through the front door towards the vehicle. "Why do they always do this?!"

Roberto didn't share the same urgency of the rookie, nor of Wolfwood's seething anger when he stormed past the front desk, thrusting down a brass room key for the terrified employee to take once he was out of the building entirely.

"Sorry about them," was all Roberto said, leaving his key behind as well, along with a few double-dollars in sympathy.

He climbed into the passenger seat a little later, tugging his seatbelt a few times to seal himself in. The flask tucked inside his worn, old blazer came out once Meryl put the van into drive and thrust her foot into the gas, making tires spin on sand before it lurched forward.

Roberto took his first sip of alcohol that day, swishing it around his gums a few times to let the burn dance in his mouth. "Ay, rookie, don't get so upset that you wreck."

"Just wait, just wait..." she chanted, her face screwed up in concentration.

Next, Roberto turned to look in the backseat at Wolfwood. The man continually fussed with his dark sunglasses slipping down his nose, teeth clenched around four crimped, unlit cigarettes.

"I knew that fuckin' brat was up to something." He spat his venom, foot tapping on the floor. "I'm gonna kill both of them when I get my hands on them. The fuck is their problem just bailing like that?"

Roberto faced forward in his seat, an arm hanging out the window as he took a larger swig this time.

He wasn't going to be the one to ask where they were going.

a/n: thank you for reading chapter one!! I anticipate this story to be anywhere between 4-6 chapters, unsure as of this moment. this has taken me weeks of planning and writing, so I am on my goddamn knees-- PLEASE REBLOG THIS STORY. share it on your dash, talk to me! I'd love to hear your feedback and theories!

for notes on the story:

1) I'm taking canon from tristamp and trimax and mashing them together. I like certain aspects of both, so both are being included. This interpretation of vash is very heavily tristamp coded, though.

2) Pastard = pastor who is a bastard.

3) I really wanted to write a different type of reader with a different type of relationship to Vash. I have not seen anything like this done, so I hope that y'all will stick with this story and hang on for the ride.

4) I have a lot of kisses planned. So many kisses. This entire project originally was "vash smoochie fic", but I wanted to work on something bigger, serious, and more complicated. Kisses are still at it's core tho 🫰🏻

[mira-selfships]

"i will not f/o this character" immediately starts making an s/i

[mira-selfships]

self ship experience

[mira-selfships]

i dont care if he killed people hes still my babygirl‼️💥💥💥‼️💥‼️💥💥‼️

[mira-selfships]

TO LOVE IS TO…

tiny glimpses into touya todoroki’s journey of learning to love.

a series by: @missmeinyourbones

TAGS: hurt/comfort, elements of angst and fluff, a slice of life, canon universe, mentions of touya’s background & family dynamics, mentions of blood and injury, nsfw content to come (MDNI, 18+)

STATUS: ongoing !

SUMMARY: Touya knows nothing of love. He’s used to just barely making it by unscathed, with his tail between his legs and a yearning for something he’s never known. With your gentle patience now under his wing, he begins to think that maybe love isn’t an anomaly, after all. Maybe together the two of you can learn that to love is to…

#001: ACCEPT

What he does know is that he’s selfish. Because in this very moment, Dabi wants to stay here forever. He wants to relish in your good, despite his own evil. He wants you all to himself, for himself.

#002: NOTICE

All of this pans out as you stand there, mentally shaking your head as you let one another play each other for puppets—no one is winning, but knowing you need one another in the silliest of ways tastes like a victory all on it’s own. 

#003: COMPROMISE

“You like me that way,” he’s quick to return, grabbing the hand that just flicked him and pressing a gentle sloppy peck to the heel of your palm. 

#004: TRUST

You deserve better, is what he means to say. You deserve someone who won’t put you in these positions. Someone who doesn’t need to scare you in order to have the chance to love you properly. 

#005: REMEMBER

And for once, it’s untouched and solely his own.  It doesn’t sound like the broken whisper of his mother, it sounds like him. But it doesn’t remind him of his younger and weakened self, it reminds him of you.

#006: BE LOVED

Your ear pressed against his stomach, you can hear his insides digesting what’s left inside of him. It’s a bittersweet reminder that he’s alive; tangible and real according to all of your senses. 

# MORE TO COME !

like what you see? read more of my touya works here!

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED @MISSMEINYOURBONES. DO NOT REPOST. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS: DO NOT INTERACT OR FOLLOW. 

[mira-selfships]

sorry for seeing the divine in the monstrous. not my fault.

[mira-selfships]

no more monster!sukuna. angel!sukuna confirmed