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#nicholas d wolfwood x reader
wreckmetoji · 1 year
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An Audience
A fic in which Wolfwood is still bad at feelings but at least he dicks you down good
↳ Nicholas D. Wolfwood/Reader
content warning. gender-neutral pronouns, afab reader, mild overstimulation, unprotected sex, profanity, shameless smut, fluff, slight angst, don’t worry baby boy vash will get his turn eventually
I recommend reading Stargazing and Cigarettes for a bit of context, however it isn’t completely necessary
minors DNI
6.8k words
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Love wasn't in your cards. That was something you had to wake up and realize, seeing the empty space in your sleeping bag that seemed twice as big now, despite being made for only one person. You weren't surprised, you couldn't be, you knew Nicholas D. Wolfwood well enough despite him only being in your life for the span of a couple weeks. He seemed... Non-committal, avoidant, and definitely bad at expressing feelings, let alone understanding them. Still, though, the short lived pang in your chest made you visibly wince. Either that, or the sun peering over the dunes, momentarily blinding you. It seemed you were the first to wake up, thank the gods for that, because you wouldn't know how to explain your brief moment of melancholy to the honest, good-hearted people around you. They would all be waking up shortly, so you were quick to recoup. Rubbing your eyes, slapping your cheeks, and standing from your sleeping bag, you vowed to carry on bravely. It was a moment of passion, you were both looking for a lifeline.  At least, that's what you told yourself. You had been silently pining over Wolfwood for nearly the entire time he had been traveling with you, but it was time to shove those feelings deep, deep down, bottle them up and put them on the shelf of regrets and things left unsaid. You would have time to reminisce over it later down the line in your life. Poorly rolling up your crumpled sleeping bag, making sure to smack the sand out of the creases in the process lest you want it in every single crevice next time you find yourself stranded. That action must have roused Vash from his sleep, as you could hear a small groan from beside you. It made you smile, shaking your head. For someone constantly on the run, he seemed so carefree sometimes. That was just so undeniably Vash, though. "Good morning," Vash rasped, both hands coming up to rub his eyes, before placing his glasses on his face. "Mornin'," You returned, clipping the straps over your sleeping bag to hold it in place. "Did you sleep alright? I thought I heard you up pretty late, and now you're the first up." You weren't sure why you didn't expect Vash to be perceptive, considering it's in his passive nature to worry about and care for the people around him. The slightly bitter purse of your lips seemed to give you away, and he obviously took the hint not to pursue how you were feeling any further.  "Well, once we get to the next town over, we'll get a motel or something and you can nap. Don't worry about coming to get the car with us." A poignant smile graced your lips, more than likely noticed by Vash.  "Thank you." It didn't need to be said, but you wanted to voice your appreciation to him whenever you could. You noticed in your travels together he didn't get that a lot, being that his reputation as The Human Typhoon preceded him. You'd been witness to some of the horrible things that followed Vash and his attempts at helping the general populous, and at first it terrified you, but after watching him dust himself off and get back up every single time, you came to admire him more than anything.  Vash stood, kicking some sand over the makeshift fire pit that was most definitely already completely out, not that there was anything anywhere around you to catch fire anyways.  "Looks like Meryl and Roberto are up," You stated, thumb pointing to the open passenger door of the vehicle several feet away. Meryl was already hopped out, and Roberto sat up groggily in the back seat. No Wolfwood, you took note after a glance around the area.  "Great! We can head off right away... then..." Vash trailed off, glancing around the area. Seems as though he had the same realization you did. "Do you know–"  "Let's get going."  Both you and Vash whipped around, seeing Wolfwood walking over and down the nearest sand dune, his cross slung over his back in the usual fashion. You tried to make eye contact, but it seems he wasn't interested in catching your gaze, let alone acknowledging you at all.  Maybe letting everything roll off your back would be harder than you anticipated.  "Ahh, it's already so hot... I thought waking up early we would be able to beat some of the heat," You heard Meryl groan, earning a chuckle from both you and Vash. "How far is the next town?" "Uhm, twelve or so miles?" Vash seemed unsure, running his intricate cybernetic hand through his fluffy hair. So it could take you up to four hours to get there? By the time everyone had come to the consensus that it was time to leave right now immediately, Wolfwood was already a good several yards ahead, obviously having no intention of slowing his pace.  The trek there was awful. You were tired, hungry, covered in grime and sweat, and Christ almighty, you could absolutely crush a glass of water. It didn't even have to be cold, you'd take lukewarm. You and Vash walked side by side, occasionally joined by Meryl and Roberto for a chat. At some point during your venture, Wolfwood had ended up behind everyone, probably something to do with his inability to trust anyone and everyone around him, or maybe you were just being bitter.  "Wahhh, I'm so tired," You whined, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. You intentionally made it seem exaggerated, hoping covering it up as fun and games make the shake of your legs less obvious as you walked up another mountain of sand beside Vash. "How much longer until we're there?" "We should be– should– oh, we're here!" Vash exclaimed after you had reached the top of the dune. You felt like you could cry tears of joy if your body had any moisture left in it at all, so instead you settled and a pathetic little cheer, your knees wobbling and threatening to give out. Your blond companion seemed to notice this, his metal arm coming down to your waist. He didn't touch you, simply hovering just in case you were to collapse. It wouldn't be the first time he's had to keep you from falling. Wolfwood walked in front of the two of you, bumping Vash in the shoulder with his cross as he passed. He stumbled, arm catching around your waist, nearly causing both of you to tumble down the hill. His sour mood made you scowl after you and Vash had gotten your bearings, in which you got a very frantic apology despite nothing being his fault. Wolfwood was simply acting like a petulant child throwing a tantrum.  The group of you got to town, branching off in your respectful directions. You and Meryl made a beeline to the nearest and only motel in this tiny backwash town, deciding it would save on money if everyone paired up into their respective rooms. You and Meryl would share, as would Wolfwood and Roberto, leaving Vash his own room. You mutually decided he deserved privacy, considering he was the one that got everyone here in the first place. (You also decidedly left out the fact you were in this predicament because of him as well, since he was on car-charging duty.) Despite the slightly murky water and shitty soap that made your skin too dry, you accepted the cramped motel shower with open arms– after you had gotten a good late lunch in you– the lukewarm water sending goosebumps up your body. It might as well have been ice cold, considering you were in the direct sun and ridiculous heat for the first four, nearly five hours of your day. Your only respite in the sweltering heat was when Vash used his body to block the rays from hitting you first thing, but once the sun was high in the sky he could do nothing to save you. Fresh out of the shower, you sighed at your bag thrown on the bed. Your day clothes were hanging to dry, so really that only left you to putter about in your sleepwear. Not that this was an issue, considering you planned staying in this dingy motel room for the next twelve plus hours. You slipped your sleep shorts on, tugging the ratty worn t-shirt over your head soon after, flopping onto the bed with a huff. Meryl had gone out, most likely to the nearest market to stock up on supplies while Roberto, Vash, and Wolfwood fetched the car with a fully charged portable battery in hand. It wouldn't hurt to take a nap, you thought, considering how little you managed to sleep last night. You kicked your foot pathetically, cheeks flushing at the recollection of how warm his embrace was. Doesn't matter if he's just gonna be a dick to me after.
With a heavy, exasperated sigh, you pulled the blanket and sheet back from the bed, only flipping the thinner of the two on top of your body. He didn't explicitly tell you that you'd get to talk about it, he just made a noise and you had made an assumption. You really don't know what you were expecting of him, you didn't know why it bothered you so much. It was fine, everything would be fine, you just had to get over yourself and everything could go back to normal. It wasn't like he was treating you any different, he was probably just grumpy because he had to walk twelve miles on what felt like the hottest day of the goddamn year. Everything was going to be fine. You just needed a nap. You awoke with a slight start, eyes adjusting to the dark of the room. Meryl laid beside you, her back rising and falling at a steady pace. It was obvious she'd been asleep for a while with how disheveled the blankets were around her, and the slight tousle of her hair. Fuck, you hadn't meant to sleep this long, you didn't even hear her come into the room. You stretched your legs, swinging them over the side of the bed, and sliding your shoes on. You hoped the motel lobby was still open at the very least, and also hoped they sold snacks and drinks.  As quietly as you could, you opened the squeaky motel door, sliding out, and shutting it behind you. Luck really was not on your side today, was all you could think as you came face to face with the closed blinds in the windows of the motel lobby. The open sign was flipped, all the lights were off, and not a soul adorned the streets. Considering how high the moons were in the sky, you could only assume it was pretty late.  Well fuck. Heaving another sigh, you dejectedly turned heel, heading back to your shared room. What you didn't expect was bumping into another person on your way there. Wolfwood stood outside his- Vash's room? It was fine, everything was fine You tried to get away without saying anything, but having to walk past him in silence seemed to be mission impossible, especially considering the circumstances.  "Why are you standing outside Vash's room?" You asked, hand coming up to the door handle of your shared space.  He reached into his pocket, pulling out the numbered key ring and spinning it around his finger. "Traded," He mused, fingers tapping the cigarette he held in his hands, "Why, disappointed?"  It was intentional, you knew he was trying to get under your skin, that's what he did, and as much as you wanted to say you wouldn't fall for it, you absolutely did. "No, I was just curious. I already told you, it's not like that." Wolfwood hummed in response, low and void of melody or emotion, almost like he was mocking you. "Right, and I'm Mother Mary."  "Listen," You hissed, removing your hand from the door knob and taking a quick two strides over to him, "I'm okay with pretending like nothing happened last night, that's fine, but that doesn't give you an excuse to be shitty to me. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine too, but don't be a dick." This seemed to irk him, the scrunch of his nose surprising you. "Who said I didn't want to talk about it?" God, you wanted to rip your hair out. Or his. It was fifty-fifty. "You're the one that ignored me all day," You whisper yelled, pointedly shoving a finger into his chest, "You're the one that wanted to act like nothing happened, you're the one that was nowhere to be seen first thing in the morning!" "Oh, I didn't realize you wanted an audience for it. If that's the case, why don't we wake everyone up and call them out here?"  You raised your hands, dragging the heels of your palms down your face in frustration. "I can't win with you, Wolfwood. You're impossible. I'm going to bed."  As you turned on your heel, you felt his hand close around your wrist. It was warm, electrifying.    "You said you wanted to talk about it. Let's talk about it." A response you didn't think you'd ever hear from Nicholas D. Wolfwood. You sighed, nodding slowly, but when you turned to him he was releasing his grip on you and headed to the door of his room. "Not out here," He muttered, stamping out his cigarette while opening the door for you. Stepping inside, you saw his cross leaning up against the wall in the corner, but other than that nothing else was out of place. His room looked entirely clean, no belongings strewn about, the covers on bed were still fitted and tucked. Did he ever sleep? You kicked your shoes off and heard the door click closed behind you, making you vaguely aware that you were completely alone with Wolfwood once again. Through the thin walls, you could hear snoring, and you weren't passively aware of everyone's sleeping patterns enough to tell if it was Vash or Roberto, or both. You nervously wiped your palms against your sleep shorts, bravely turning around to look up at Wolfwood. His arms were crossed over his chest, standing tall in front of you. The longer you stood in silence, the more desperate you became for any kind of saviour. "Okay, I guess I'll go first," You whispered, stepping back and taking a seat on the edge of the untouched bed, "I... expected things to be like this. I was happy about what happened last night, but I mean... you don't exactly seem the type to want that kind of thing, y'know?" Silence. "It was nice indulging, lying to myself, telling myself that's really what you wanted as well," You picked at the skin on your fingers, acutely aware of Wolfwood stepping away from the door and closer to you, "That you wanted me. That it wasn't just... I dunno, us being caught up in the moment?" You were embarrassing yourself. What were you saying? He was going to laugh at you and call you an idiot, traveling with everyone just got that much more awkward. A small part of you wondered if you should just pack up your stuff and disappear into the night. The likelihood of you making it even a week with no food, no weapons, no money was absolutely slim, but it was a risk you were willing to take. You would leave a note for Vash, he would understand– "You done?" Blinking dumbly, you finally glanced up. He was much closer than you had anticipated, or even noticed, the proximity making you swallow the lump in your throat. Not trusting your voice, you simply nodded, a shaky exhale pushing past your lips when he began to lean down. "Good." His breath fanned over your face when he grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to tilt your head back and crane your neck up. It seemed so easy for him, the way he pressed his lips against yours, the way his hand trailed feather light touches up your jaw, fingers moving back to tangle in the hairs at the nape of your neck and tug oh so gently. And as you were, right here, right now, you didn't want anything else. It's like he knew exactly what strings to pluck to make your heart sing, knew what to touch and where to have you wanting more and more of him. Or maybe you just felt that way about him all on your own. You parted, but not for long, only pulling back long enough for him to start leaning you back, one of his knees on the bed as he knelt over you. He had a hand on either side of you, bracketing you in, much like he had done last night but this was just so different. There was no confusion, astonishment, or impulse. This was planned, this was calculated and it was desperate. His lips were desperate to feel you, his tongue was desperate to taste you. It was suffocating, having him lean into you, press his chest to yours, coax your mouth open with his tongue. It was dizzying, and instead of allowing yourself to dive headfirst into the glue trap that was Wolfwood's affections, you pulled back. "Wait, Wolfwo–" "Nicholas," He breathed into your neck, licking at your pulse point once before biting down. You whined, feeling his canines press harshly into your skin. "I told you to call me Nicholas." Hands planted on his chest, giving a gentle push, but his lips and teeth and tongue made quick work of your neck. "W–Wait, please–" You insisted, giving a gentle push on his chest, "I don't–" Wolfwood pulled back, only far enough for him to look up at you out of the corner of his eye. His body was rigid again, unsure, muscles tense. He panted, breathing uneven and hurried, but ultimately nodded, huffing out, "I'm sorry, I thought– this seemed like this is where things were going." His body pulled back first, his leg sliding down the edge of the bed when he pushed back to stand. This time you were the one to grab him, your fingers closing in on the lapel of his blazer. You were both ruddy cheeked, eyes half lidded as you stared at each other. You took a second to compose yourself, voice small and breathless. "I want you, but–" He pushed forwards again, knee back on the bed. You choked on your words, keeping your hand on his blazer, "But, I feel like we didn't really talk about things." It was a wonder to see Wolfwood at a loss for words. Still, he pushed forward, much slower this time. He leaned into you, closer, hovering mere inches above your lips. "'m not exactly a man of many words, but," He placed a slow kiss on your lips, hands palming at your waist, "I'd like to show you how I feel." All the air was punched out of your lungs, jaw hanging slack in awe at his forwardness. Part of you wondered how honest he was being with you, but there was a glimmer of something in his eyes that had you falling back into his glue trap. A nod was all it took before Wolfwood was dipping leaning you back down, kissing you so deep it made the room spin. Your eyes slid shut, every nerve ending electrifying when he would touch you, kiss you. His hands felt like molten fire against your skin when he grabbed at your inner thighs, parting them so he could comfortably slide in between. His touch moved down, around, holding under your knee as he wrapped your one leg around his waist. It was slow, but deliberate, the slide of his palm back up your leg, thigh, before settling on the meat of your hip. His other hand was just barely hovering beside your neck, fingers brushing back and forth along your jaw. Something you could say you never expected of Wolfwood was the tenderness of fleeting touches. When he pulled back from your mouth, you gasped, the string of spit connecting you snapping and soaking into the fabric of your night shirt, some of it dribbling down your chin. Despite not even being touched by him yet, you could feel how dizzy and– most likely– thoroughly fucked you looked. "Fuck," Was all he growled, both hands under your ass to hike you further up the bed to make room for him. The rusty springs creaked in retaliation, the flimsy headboard gently tapping against the wall at the motion. Impossibly warm hands scooped your other leg to wrap around his waist. His hips pressed down into you, pinning you to the bed, the seam of his zipper rubbing up into your clothed mound. You squeaked, hands coming up to his hair when he ran his tongue down the shell of your ear. He kissed, licked, bit every piece of skin he could reach, and all you could do was whine and sigh and take his affections. Hot palms ran up your sides, taking your shirt along with them as he hiked it higher and higher, eventually getting to the peak of your chest. He stopped, peering up at you inquisitively, as if you would say anything except please rip my clothes off. Another nod from you, another smirk from him, and your shirt was quickly pulled up and over your head, leaving you half exposed and on display for him. You had half a mind to hide behind your arms– how long had it even been?– but he seemed to predict your train of thought and beat you to the punch. Lips descended, trailing down to the concave of your chest, kissing your solar plexus. His tongue laved across your skin, circling a pert bud, before his mouth latched down and made quick work at diminishing your leftover self conscious thoughts. You were so caught up in trying not to make too much noise, you hadn't noticed the hand that came down between the apex of your thighs to swipe a thumb up the line of your clothed pussy. It made you gasp out a moan, hands flying up to slap over your mouth just a moment too late. He chuckled, seeming amused by your outburst, the vibrations making you shudder. "You can relax," Wolfwood breathed into your skin, fingers replacing his mouth, "I won't bite unless you ask me to." "You ah–already did!" A grin, cocky and wide and toothy and just so undeniably Wolfwood, was all you got in return. You didn't have any time to chastise him, considering he was pushing one leg of your sleep shorts open with his index and middle finger. Descending back down to your mouth, he smirked, running his thumb up and down the line of your aching core, his voice a low growl. "No underwear?" Tiny and meek, the little rebuttal of how these were your pajamas, of course you weren't going to wear unnecessary layers to bed died in your throat when the same fingers that coaxed open your shorts were spinning slow circles against your clit. The sound you made was airy, desperate, surprised at his forwardness and expertise with his hands He kissed you once, twice, licking into your mouth and pressing his tongue up against yours as his fingers worked you up. They dipped down, trailing through your slick, then came back up with more fervor, tight circles winding you just a bit tighter. You moaned into his mouth, absolutely certain with how fucking wet you were already, you were going to ruin these sleep shorts. There was no time to voice how tight the coil was twisting in your stomach, Wolfwood having pulled away much too fast for your liking right as you were starting to hump into his hand. He laughed down at you, sitting up and stripping your shorts from your body. "Don't look so disappointed," He mocked, shrugging the shoulders of his blazer off, "I'll give you better than that." You squealed when he grabbed your ankles and yanked you back to the edge of the bed, pushing up on your forearms to ask him exactly what he planned on doing with half of you hanging off the bed like that, but the sight of him dropping to his knees on the floor answered your question. You think, possibly in that moment, that was the first genuine and honest reaction Wolfwood had to something that wasn't annoyance. He looked like a man depraved, starved, his hungry gaze watching your face as his mouth and tongue worked up your inner thighs. He looked debauched, hair messy, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and while usually his shirt was unbuttoned up top, it trailed much further down, exposing the dark patch of hair disappearing into his tented pants. Good God. "Ain't no God here," Wolfwood verbalized, flattening his tongue and licking up your pussy, "Just me." Heavy against the bed, you fell back, the creaks and groans of the frame and mattress reminding you that you'd have to be much more quiet if you didn't want to alert your friends sleeping just on the other side. Easy enough was a farfetched thought as Wolfwood licked up the expanse of you again, arms looping under and around your legs, fingers digging into your inner thighs. He brought two fingers down, circling your clit as he tongued around your pulsing entrance, having you squeezing around nothing. "W–Wol– ah! " You squeaked when he slapped your clit, "Nick! " The depraved groan he breathed into your pussy made your stomach do flips, bringing one hand down to his hair and the other up to your mouth, biting down on the meat underneath your pinky. He was relentless, completely devoid of rhyme or reason but absolutely he knew what he was doing would drive you up the wall. His fingers and mouth changed places, the slow stretch of two fingers sliding into your dripping pussy making you keen for him. The curl of his fingers, the way he pushed and pulled just right made you see stars but it just wasn't enough. "Nick– f–fuck, please," Your begs and pleas dripped from your mouth like honey, sweet and syrupy and tantalizing. "Please, more, pleasepleaseplease–" It would be a lie to say you didn't know what your begging and pleading did to Wolfwood, it would be a lie to say you didn't see him rocking his hips up into nothing when you peered down at him devouring you whole. It would also be a lie to say that isn't exactly what you wanted, to push him to his breaking point so he would absolutely wreck you, because it was obvious he was going to take his time in teasing and toying with you. His fingers moved faster, managing to stroke a particularly spongy spot inside of you that made your back arch and your hips jump, and the fucked out noise you moaned into your hand was downright sinful. That seemed to be the desired effect, because Wolfwood was abusing that spot like a man on a mission, his tongue working in time with your clit to send you hurdling over the edge at break–neck speed. The hand you were holding to your mouth shot down, both hands gripping his hair as you rocked your hips up into his mouth and hands. It hit you like a truck, temporarily blinding you. Your hands clenched in his hair, looking for any kind of purchase to help ground you from your earth-shattering orgasm, his free hand coming up to press down into your pelvis, preventing you from squirming and bucking up too much. You whined, gasped, moaned, and pleaded too much, please stop stop too much before his mouth was pulling off of you, fingers slowing to a stop inside you. Your entire body went limp, eyes wide as you stared up at the dingy motel ceiling. You didn't know how you were ever supposed to be satisfied with your own fingers again, let alone another person. A distant chuckle snapped you back, your eyes trailing down to see Wolfwood now shirtless, working at the belt and button of his pants. "Y'look fucked," He mused, pushing his pants and underwear down at the same time, "Hope you didn't think I was done with you yet." It was a visceral effort to not stare at his cock as it bounced between his legs when he stood up straight. He was thick, and definitely longer than anything you had taken until now. You didn't have much time to gawk, considering he was hooking his arms under your legs and tossing you to lay on the bed properly without a seconds notice. He crawled up and between your thighs, coaxing your knees to hook around his hips and circle his waist while he sat back on his haunches. His thumb pressed against the base of his cock, hips slowly moving back and forth as he dragged through your slick and his spit. He hissed, his tip catching on your hole just briefly, before he went back to teasing up and down. Your drawn out whine made him grin wolfishly, but he didn't say anything. You knew he wanted you to beg. "Please, Nick," You whined, fingers gripping the crumpled sheets below you, "Please fuck me, I need you." "Fuck, you look good like this," Wolfwood sucked a breath through his teeth, thumb angling himself down to catch on your entrance once again. "So pretty, begging like a whore." The praise and degradation made you wail, as did the slow slide of every ridge and vein of his cock as he slid himself in you to the hilt. You were surrounded by him, drowning in him, every scent and sight and touch was nothing but Wolfwood and you would gladly die like this. He leaned down on his forearms, one hand coming to the center of your lower back and angling your hips up so he could drive even deeper and you swear you saw God. He started slow, only pulling out an inch and pushing back in, his lips on your neck, jaw, temple, as he slowly worked you through any potential discomfort. "F–Fucking– feels like you're in my throat," You sighed, hands coming up to claw at his shoulders. He chuckled, biting down on your pulse points. "So deep, so big. Please move, I need–" As soon as your plea graced your lips, he had pulled his cock out to the tip, then slammed back in with fervor. You cried out, only vaguely aware of the headboard slamming into the wall with equal force. You couldn't see straight, let alone think straight, with the brute force behind his thrusts. He was still taking his time devouring you, savoring you, his pace slow but deep and hard. You could swear you felt his cock tip reach your guts with every thrust, his name a mantra on your lips and your fingers scribing his shoulders and back. "So tight," Wolfwood huffed, hips bucking out of pace for a mere second, "Feels so fucking good." He was losing himself in you, emphasizing his words with harsh thrusts, his eyes rolling back into his head as he sped up. All you could do was hang onto him, desperately raising your hips in time with him in an attempt to get him further, closer deeper. He was intoxicating, the woodsy second-hand smoke emanating from him paired with his thick cock pushing you harder and harder into the bed making you drunk off of him. You couldn't string together a coherent sentence to tell him how fucking good he felt, only punched out moans and shrill cries of s'good, fuck me, harder, faster. He took them just as well, eventually folding you in on yourself. Your knees ended up over his shoulders, his arms outstretched and hands against the headboard as he fucked down into you with vicious ferocity. The constant bang of the bed frame against the wall getting faster, and you couldn't find it in yourself to be shameful if it ended up waking your companions, because you were lurching closer and closer to the edge you could taste it. "So good, you're so good, too good f'r me," Wolfwood panted in your ear, a hand coming down to grab your cheeks and crush his lips against yours in an agonizingly desperate kiss. It was deliciously wet, all tongue, spit dribbling down your chin. Another two, three, four thrusts, and you were whining into him, trying to voice I'm cumming, fuck fuck fuck I'm cumming, only to have it sinfully swallowed up in his gluttony for you and your desire. Your pussy squeezed him like a vice, trembling and quaking and milking him for everything he was worth. He pulled back panting, a sheen of sweat illuminated by the moons peering through the window. You barely got to say please cum inside by the time he was already pulling out, fisting his cock to completion. He groaned, spurts of his seed coating your pussy, stomach, and chest. "Fuck, f–hah, should've said something sooner," Wolfwood huffed, voice low and gravelly, "Would've filled you to the fuckin’ brim." You should've been ashamed that your pussy quivered at the thought. Both of you were panting, eyes half-mast, staring at each other with an equally amused and fucked-out expression. He was the first to crack, a chuckle leaving his lips as he unfolded you from your position underneath him. A swift smack to your ass made you squeak before your legs fell back to the bed, sprawling out like a starfish. He leaned over the bed, picking up an article of clothing and wiping you off with it. You quickly recognized it being the fabric of his button-up, your cheeks flushing at the thought of him walking around with everyone cum-stained tomorrow. Once you were sufficiently cleaned up, though still sticky with sweat, he tossed his shirt back to the floor and flopped down onto the bed beside you. The bed creaked and groaned under his weight, threatening to give out if there was even the slightest bit of extra exertion on it's frail frame. His arm snuck under your head, nudging you to lean into his side and cuddle up against him. Your arm slung over his torso, hand slowly sliding up and curling gently against his chest. His heart hammered in his chest, much faster than it should be by now, and when you looked up you were surprised to meet his eyes. It was quiet, and you simply watched as he processed his inner turmoil, waiting for him to come to a conclusion on what he wanted to say to you. Finally, he quietly muttered, "Will you stay with me tonight?" You beamed, watching his ears glow red at his request, simply settling for a nod. You rest your head against his chest again, slinging a leg over his thigh, eyes sliding shut for what you think was one of the best nights sleep you've had in years. The morning after, you woke to three loud consecutive knocks on the door. You groaned quietly, turning away from the noise. Four knocks now, this time harder, had you groaning just a little bit louder. You heard a sigh from beside you, then a gentle pap pap on your ass, before the weight on the bed shifted. Turning your head, you watched a still very naked Wolfwood march his way over to the door, the scratches running down his back and shoulders still angry, red and irritated. He cracked the door open, keeping the deadbolt fastened. "What?" He drawled, clearly unimpressed he was woken up from his slumber with you, "Someone better be dying." "Oh you're just as rude first thing in the morning, great," You heard Meryl, irritation dripping from her voice. She said your name briefly, trying to get another three words in before Wolfwood started closing the door. "Don't know, probably around somewhere. Be out in a bit." The sound of her cursing him from behind the door made you giggle, hands coming up to your mouth to muffle the sound. When he turned around, Wolfwood looked just as amused, plucking your clothes off the floor and tossing them to you. "That's not gonna buy you a lot of time," He chided, watching you slide your shirt over your head as he pulled his underwear and pants up his legs, "Better get going." "Yeah– I'll probably get an earful either way though," You laughed, walking over to your shoes as you put your shorts on. You were going to say something about have fun with your cum-shirt, but a hand grabbed at your hip and spun you around before you could slip your shoes on properly. You turned around, surprised by the soft kiss placed on your lips. "I don't want this to be a one time thing," Wolfwood looked away, his blazer slung over his shoulder, "If... I don't know if you–" "No, I'd like to do this again... and again and again." His ears and neck were red, making you laugh. You went to pull away, but his hand was steadfast on your hip, grip unwavering as he stared into you. You watched him inquisitively, blinking in confusion, what else needed to be said? "I did– do, I do want you, by the way." The way you looked at him must have been absolutely bewildered, incredulous, before you snorted, stifling a laugh in the back of your hand. "I think you showed me that much, Nick." He cleared his throat, taking a step back and looking away, his face a deep crimson. "R–Right, yeah– I did." You unlocked the deadbolt, then the door, twisting the knob and opening it just a crack. Looking back at him over your shoulder, you grinned, giving a little wave. "I'll see you at breakfast?" "... Yeah, see you at breakfast." And with your final goodbyes, you shuffled off to your room discreetly, getting ready for the day. It was a race against time and you won, managing to get changed in record speed and go downstairs to find Meryl and Roberto sitting across from Vash in the small diner attached to your motel. You smiled, waving, and made up some piss poor excuse about trying to find some cheap clothing stores along the market strip. You sat beside Vash, who was uncharacteristically quiet, his cheeks and ears a dark red, as opposed to their usual pale pink glow. Maybe you interrupted a sore subject. Not even a minute behind you, Wolfwood came strolling through a door, a very obvious damp patch on the front of his shirt where he had selectively scrubbed his cum out. Vash scooted over, then you, allowing room for Wolfwood to squeeze in beside you at the end. Conversation picked up as food and coffee was served, but Vash continued to stay mostly quiet, only ever piping up when addressed or spoken to. At some point you got concerned, placing a gentle hand on his metallic arm. He jumped, looking down at you, then over your shoulder, as you muttered a quiet, "Hey, what's up? You've been really quiet today." Cerulean eyes glanced back down at you as he weakly and nervously chuckled, seeming to not completely want to divulge in what was bothering him so much. You pursed your lips, giving him a knowing look. "Ahaha, w–well, I mean... last night I heard–" Wolfwood's knee jumped, hitting under the table beside you and shaking all the cups, plates, and cutlery strewn across it. Coffee was spilled, forks were lost, and audible disappointment was voiced from more than one party. "What was that, Spikey?" Wolfwood muttered through his teeth. As messes were hurriedly wiped, Wolfwood leaned back in his seat, peering over your head and glaring at the blond sitting beside you. They held eye contact, and all you could do was nervously glance between them. ".... Y'know, I was probably just imagining things!" Vash exclaimed, running a hand through his fluffy hair. "Roberto snores pretty loud!" There was some back and forth between Meryl and Roberto that seemed mostly one sided, leaving you room to heave out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. God, how embarrassing would that have been?
A hand on your thigh grabbed your attention, eyes glancing up at a very nonchalant Wolfwood that was leaning down to whisper in your ear. "Guess you still got an audience."
1K notes · View notes
fruitsoxs · 10 months
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What you wake up to "the morning after" ;;
Mostly wholesome with a little bit of NSFW in knives-- nothing too saucy.
Vash:
The clingiest sleeper you have ever met.
When you wake up, all of your limbs are intertwined and he's snoring super loudly.
He'll probably cling onto you and whine if you try to pry yourself out of his grasp.
When he wakes up, he'll pepper your face with kisses
He'll probably wanna cuddle in bed all morning and talk to you
Oh my God he's also the type to give you his shirt to wear around
He'll go absolutely feral to see you in his clothes
No matter what, he'll make sure you're comfortable and happy
Wolfwood
Not a super clingy sleeper, but he does seek out warmth
You'll probably wake up with his arm draped around your waist, and your back pressed against his chest
He'll wake up first.
Wolfwood will probably take a moment to just lay there with you in his arms, and appreciate this quiet moment
Then he'll wake you up by giving you soft kisses along the back of your neck
"Mornin' hun"
Oh my God his groggy morning voice is absolutely devine
He'll probably just hold you in his arms and kiss your shoulders and neck for a second
It might get saucy, because he cannot keep his hands off of you
Meryl
This girl sleeps like a freaking maniac
Limbs in every direction, kicking, slapping, talking
You'd wake up with her completely sideways, legs draped over you
But it's okay cause she's cute
Will apologize for her sleeping habits until you kiss her a bunch and tell her it's okay
She'll probably lay in bed with you for awhile and talk
She'll be the first to ask if this is a common thing, if you're in a relationship, or if this is a one night type of deal. She really values communication
She'll be understanding no matter what, but will be pretty disappointed if it was a one night only type of deal
If you want to pursue a relationship then...she'll take you on a little breakfast date
No joke, immediately she'll tell you to get dressed and take you out to a cute little diner to eat some greasy breakfast and talk
Knives
He'll leave
Jk jk
You'll probably be pretty sore in the morning if you catch my drift. Covered in bite marks and bruises for sure
This man likes it rough and you cannot convince me otherwise
You'll wake up alone and initially panic
But when you hear the sound of shuffling around in the kitchen you'll calm down
He probably woke up before you on purpose, so he could make you some food
Tells you it's just so you can regain your energy for round two, but he's totally doing it because he really cares
And it's a delicious meal?? So yummy??
If you walk out into the kitchen in his clothes, you better be prepared for him to pick you up and immediately begin making out with you on the counter, food be dammed
He also goes feral seeing you in his clothes, but his feral is...not as innocent lol
He likes seeing you all marked up too
Oh...and you don't really have the option of this being a one time thing
Your his now lol
A little bonus;; when he first wakes up, he'll turn over and watch you sleep for a second. He thinks you look beautiful in the morning. He finds himself relaxing, maybe even smiling?? And before he gets up he'll lean over and kiss your forehead. A little moment of softness that nobody will ever know about
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spooblet · 2 months
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Vash, Wolfwood, and Knives: (Y/n) biting their arm.
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Vash The Stampede
The two of you were settling down after a long night of traveling. Upon walking to the motel room, (Y/n) was the first to collapse on the bed. Of course, Vash was one of the two who was used to traveling long distances with no problem for many years compared to (Y/n). 
“I don’t get how you can keep doing this. My legs are killing me!” (Y/n) dramatically groans while Vash smiles softly. He was happy to find a place for the night, but more happy to see his beloved partner resting at ease. 
Vash placed his bag near the desk and removed his coat; placing it on top of the chair before joining (Y/n) in bed. 
“We should get some rest. We still have a long way to go till we get to the next city.” Vash removed his prosthetic arm and then his shoes. Before he can make himself comfortable, he then removes (Y/n)’s shoes once he notices how no effort they put in to make themselves comfortable. The smile never wiped off as he was glad to help (Y/n)’s night more comfortable. He lay on his side and wrapped his arm over (Y/n), pulling them close to him as he slowly drifted to sleep. 
It wasn’t long until he felt a pinching sensation on his arm that woke him up. 
“My love…What are you doing?” He asked calmly as he looked down to see what was going on. (Y/n) gently bit Vash’s arm and looked up to meet his eyes. 
“Nuthin’” They responded as their mouth was still attached to his arm,
“Uhh…can you let me go, please?” He smiled and looked at them with pleading eyes.
“Na.” They responded. 
Their teeth still sank into his skin, not so much so to tear skin or cause a bad injury, but enough to make Vash try and shake them off of him. 
“Please, mayfly?” He looked at them with a calm expression, but they shook their head no as they put a little pressure. 
“Ah! Hey! No biting, please, and thank you?” 
Vash tried to pry his arm away from (Y/n)’s mouth but to no avail. He was about to give up until he thought of something that would help the situation. He leans towards their head and presses a sweet, gentle kiss against their temple. Even if it didn’t do anything to help his situation, at least he ended the day giving them affection. To his surprise, he felt the release of their teeth as they looked up at him, smiling and blushing softly at the touch of his lips. Vash looked down and smiled as well before pulling them closer to him for a well-rested night.
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Nicholas D. Wolfwood
He was at it again, being the annoying prick of a boyfriend as always. The whole time in the city they had just got in, Nicholas would annoy (Y/n) just for his amusement and entertainment. He would grab their hair and try to have it slid inside their nose, would tap the back of their knee to make them lose balance in public, along with aggressive hair ruffling at random. 
(Y/n) had enough. As soon as Nicholas put his arm around their shoulder it was an opportunity to annoy him by biting his arm. 
“Ahh! Hey what the hell, (Y/n)!?” 
Nicholas was shocked by the sudden action and tried to remove his arm off their shoulder but (Y/n) wasn’t letting him go that easy. Their teeth sank a little further down his skin, making him groan. 
“This isn’t funny, (Y/n), let go!” 
“No!”
Nicholas continues to try to pull his arm off their mouth, but to his surprise, they are locked in. unable to get his lover off his arm. It’s to the point where he decided to take it a little further. 
“You wanna play fire with fire, (Y/n), You’re asking for it!” 
In a quick motion, Nicholas grabbed (Y/n)’s arm and bit it with the same amount of pressure as (Y/n). They let out a slight yelp but refused to let him go. He was being too annoying and had to give him a taste of his own medicine, but they should have known better that he would try to get even with them. 
“Had enough?” Nicholas muttered the words out while having his teeth locked in. 
(Y/n) only shook their head no and continued to bite his arm. There was no point in having both of them biting each other by the sidewalk as some locals walked past them with slight judgment, Nicholas soon sigh then let go, seeing it wasn’t going anywhere. 
“Alright, alright, fine you win…happy now?” 
There was no response from (Y/n) as they continued to bite his arm. Nicholas groaned at their stubbornness and looked at them for a moment before getting an idea.  He started to tickle them in a sensitive spot which caused them to let go and laugh at this action. He smirked at his success and took the chance to lift them and throw them over his shoulder, gripping their thigh tightly to secure them. 
“There, now be a good (girl, boy, individual) and try not to get any funny ideas. Alright?” 
He picked up The Punisher and continued walking down the sidewalk. Everything was going well until (Y/n) patted his ass for payback. It was now their turn to be the annoying partner. 
Nicholas blushed madly and called them out.
“Hey! Enough of that! You’re being damn annoying, you know!”
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Knives Millions
…You…You just want to die, huh? 
(Y/n) would never dare themselves to take such a risky action by biting Knives. He was stronger and dangerous if he got mad, let alone being bitten.  It was already pure luck that Knives didn’t want to harm his beloved. There was just the thought in the back of (Y/n)’s mind of ‘what if’’s in the back of their mind. Knives were sitting on the edge of a bed that was given for (Y/n) to rest since he knew how important sleep is to humans. ((Reader if you’re reading this at 2 am. Go to bed.)) He had one arm around (Y/n)’s shoulder as he watched them drift to slumber. Based on how they were breathing, they were still awake even after 15 minutes. Before he could point it out he felt their teeth on his skin which confused him. 
“What are you doing…” Knives didn’t move his arm away or pull away for that matter, he just looked down at his (Y/n) while waiting for their reasoning as to why they were attempting to bite him. 
“...N-nothing.” They replied. 
“Truly there is a reason why you’re trying to bite me. Especially when you’re such a terrible liar.” He responded. To their surprise, He let out a chuckle at their useless reasoning.
 There was no reason to lie to him, but the panic was overwhelming. 
“Tell me…what kind of human behavior is this…” He sounded curious as to what tempted (Y/n) to bite him as if they had some animalistic behavior. 
“It…can be displayed as affectionate to some?” They responded.
There was a moment of silence before Knives considered it and then nodded. 
“Very well..”
It was his way of giving them his approval which (Y/n) nodded and gently bit his arm. Their sank pressed down on his skin for a while. The room was filled with an awkward silence between the two. It was getting uncomfortable to the point where (Y/n) let go and looks at Knives
“Hmm…Don’t do that again.” He responded. 
Knives sat there until he noticed (Y/n) fell asleep before getting off the bed and walked out of the private room that now belongs to (Y/n). As he walked down the hallway, a faint blush crept in his skin. He would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t like the feeling of their teeth on his skin, but he refused to accept the new sensation he was feeling inside. 
163 notes · View notes
cheralith · 11 months
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what happens in gunsmoke... — 「 knives (nai) x reader 」
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content warnings ; gn!reader, no pronouns used (i think), reader wears makeup, one-sided jealousy, suggestive but not nsfw material, a really poor attempt at hints of comedy, explicit alcohol consumption
contains ; college!au, modern!au, reader and nai have known each other since childhood, some wolfwood x reader, "nai" is used instead of knives and is used as a nickname
word count ; 7.0k
notes ; heavily inspired by @demxnscous's magnificent college!au involving hundred spoons himself! highly, highly recommend reading all the blurbs involving it if you want to see nai being a foolishly and obliviously in love and some other comical headcanons!
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“I’ll pay you five bucks to come with us.”
“You’re fucking with me, right?”
Vash pouts and his eyes droop at Nai’s nth refusal to go with his brother and his friends to the new nightclub that had just opened on the corner of uptown that’s been all the hype nowadays across campus. Vash has heard about the throwback hits the DJ plays, the flashing lights that shine just right, the unique drinks that were offered there—he’d be insane not to go on a relieving Friday night after a week of midterms and essays. It wasn't unusual of the spiky-haired Saverem to go socialize and go all out with his closest friends as a way to relax and relieve some tension.
The story is the opposite for the other Saverem, however. Nai prefers to stay inside and be mellowed out with his usual oversized hooded snuggie and some warm tea, perhaps even binging a new show. Isolation wasn’t foreign to him either, and if anything, it’s what he would want on a Friday evening instead of being around sweaty, booze-scented college kids amidst a darkened club with flashing lights. Why would he bother with all-too-loud, outdated music with much too intimate lyrics when he could be savoring melodic Fauré’s barcarolles, instead? The answer seems too obvious.
“You can’t even buy a shot for that much in most clubs in the area,” Nai scoffs, taking off his grandpa-styled rectangular reading glasses and staring dully at him, not phased at Vash’s pleading puppy eyes. “You’re either gonna amp up the cash or come up with another dumb bribe to get me going to that madhouse with you and your little friends.” 
Vash whines, slinking his tall self onto the couch. “You know I don’t have much to spare on me, Nai…”
“And yet instead of using that money to buy yourself a new jacket,” Nai eyes Vash’s worn-out crimson jacket their mom made for them when they were children that hangs by a thin thread on the coat rack; Nai feels as if that jacket has seen better days and even impressed it made it this far in its life. “You choose to spend it on a one-time trip at a stuffy nightclub, instead.”
“It’s not about the money, though!” he retaliates, sitting up. “It’s about the memories and friends we make on the way!” he singsongs.
Nai grimaces at Vash’s cheekiness. 
“I’m not going. That’s final,” he says sternly, shoving his glasses on his face again and resuming his book.
A thick, uncomfortable silence fills the Saverem residence, only broken by the ticking of the clock and Nai’s occasional page turning. Vash breathes out a stubborn huff—he thinks his older brother has been locked up in the house too much for his own nowadays, even refusing to go out for a casual dine-in at nearby restaurants. Some people even ask about Nai’s whereabouts, to which Vash can only shrug and give the same reply: “Didn’t feel like coming.” given with a soft and dismal half-smile.
Vash studies Nai from the corner of his eye. He’s tried money, he’s tried bribing him with free food, he’s tried exchanging favors like doing his homework for him, but all have failed miserably and have fallen victim to Nai’s disturbed looks that just scream, “NO.”
So he pauses and thinks deeply for a moment. What’s something that could possibly change Nai’s mind about finally leaving their apartment that could also simultaneously let him let loose for a change, give those stiff nerves a chance to unravel and be free for a change? 
His mind flutters from option to option, all of them dying in the same instance they’re taken up inside his head… until…
Perhaps it wouldn’t be something that convinces him, but someone. Vash’s eyes slyly go to stare at Nai directly, a large grin on his face that uneases Nai ever so slightly because he knows something mischievous is brewing behind that smile. 
“What…?” he mutters, breaking eye contact. 
“You know,” Vash murmurs as he sits up, stretching, “There’s a bunch of guys that we know that are going, so you don’t have to go out of your way to meet new people.”
Nai raises a brow. He’s not too impressed at Vash’s last-minute attempt to try and get him on his feet. He doesn’t even like the majority of Vash’s companions. “So?”
Vash begins to stalk off to his bedroom to start getting ready to go to the club, anticipating Wolfwood's car that’ll pick him up in an hour or so. “Meaning Nico is coming, Meryl is coming, Milly is coming, Livio, Legato, Elendira… they’re all tagging along with us,” Vash says with a twirl of his hand, feeling Nai’s eyes dagger into his back. 
“Oh, and I also forgot…” Right before he closes his door, however, Vash glances back at his brother, stating the one thing that he knows for a fact will get Nai up and going. 
“(Y/N) will be there, too.”
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Nai can already feel sick. He can feel the bass of a song thunder from the parking lot as he drearily exits Wolfwood’s car, staring up at the flashy neon sign that screams “GUNSMOKE” in bright green text. There’s a vast array of people lined up outside, all tittering with excitement at the fresh nightclub that’s finally replaced the dingy bar, Jeneora Rock, that most people go to for a casual night out. But the bar had much too many rules to abide by because of its nonsensical history with the nearby college students, limiting what could and couldn’t be done inside. Now with little to no restriction in the new nightclub, who knows what could happen?
The unknown is what Nai fears the most, really.
He doesn’t even remember why he decided to go here on a whim, he thinks to himself as his feet carry him to the back of the line while Vash and Wolfwood talk noisily amongst each other, sulking behind them. He stares at himself in the semi-reflective surface of the window as the line moves up inch by inch, thinking he might’ve overdone himself. Nai thinks there’s too much gel in his hair, thinks that the cologne he spritzed on was too much, thinks that the Vash’s short-sleeved button-up he borrowed is too bold and a little tight, even, just barely squeezing around the biceps that blue geometric sleeve tattoos wrap around. His fingers begin to fiddle with the opened V of it, attempting to clasp in more buttons to hide his chest, but Wolfwood smacks his hand away from them. 
“Let ‘em breathe, man,” Wolfwood states, gesturing to his own exposed pectorals that almost rival in size to Nai’s. “You worked hard for them—don’t think I haven’t seen ya at the gym. Y’always hide them with those loose ass sweaters, so show those girls off for once.” He allusively cups one of them in his hands, raising his brows.
“I think I’ll decide that for myself, thanks,” a blushing Nai snaps at him and manages to close up a button that hides a sly inch of his chest, though frustration follows suit when it pops open again thanks to their prominence. His jaw tightens. He’s already in for a rough night.
It doesn’t take Nai long to regret his decision to tag along with his brother from the first step he takes into the nightclub, already overwhelmed by the thick air of sweaty bodies and dazzling lights that sparkle all across the dance floor. He especially doesn’t like the gleaming, large sign that reads, “What happens in Gunsmoke, stays in Gunsmoke.” straight across a wall that seems to be eyeing him with mischief.
The music is significantly better than most clubs and bars have to offer, but the volume and bass is still too plentiful for his liking. Nai is only halfway across the nightclub, he thinks that he could probably make a run for it when Vash’s back is turned and just walk home… maybe hitch an Uber if he’s feeling lucky. 
His second guesses, however, all manage to dissipate when he spots the one thing that managed to lure him into this hellhole in the first place.
Arctic blue eyes grow hazy when they land on a familiar figure adorned in a red top with a heart-shaped chest cutout in the middle, a pair of curve-hugging, white corduroy bell bottoms and a crescent moon buckle belt to match. Nai swallows thickly as he watches you listen intently to Meryl’s story about the latest professor-student scandal, his chest growing a little tight at the sound of your soft giggle even through the thunderous music—he’d be stupid to think it’s Vash’s shirt. It grows fuzzy by the second the more he stares at you, you still not noticing the three newest additions to the nearly full semicircle table. He picks out the smaller details of your appearance from his spot—the moon-shaped earrings match with the hardware of your belt buckle, he notices, as well as the glitter that sprinkles across your eyelids that’s framed by a razor-sharp eyeliner that rounds your eyes just right. Your lips, too, look so full with that shade of dark red lip gloss that stretches into a grin. Were they always that plump? Did they always have the bitten look to them? Why were they—
“You’re staring too much.”
Nai’s vision suddenly clears up the hazy background of the nightclub and his hearing sharpens to the music again with Vash’s voice sending chills up his spine. Vash’s lips splay a smirk that basically says he’s won in this little game of tug-of-war—for today at least. Wolfwood, too, doesn’t take long to imitate his best friend.
“There you guys are!” Milly’s voice echoes. They all go to whip their heads around and face her, a hand gesturing to them to come over to their table. “Hurry! Come!”
Another rock-hard swallow inches itself down Nai’s throat when your gaze lands on him, and he swears your eyes had grown a little larger at the sight of his attire that was very much not like his usual wear—but it’s hard to see with the darkness of the club, he can’t get his hopes up so quickly. Vash and Wolfwood greet everyone with equal fervor, Nai quietly following behind them. 
There’s an empty spot that sits right to the left of you, your eyes meet Nai’s and a silent exchange between you and him talk through stares and blinks. It’s a hesitant exchange of “No one’s sitting here right?” from his side, but he can’t exactly decipher if you’re exemplifying “It’s yours for the taking.” or “You can sit here… if you want.” Two messages with contrasting tones, Nai can’t let himself fall victim to a possible miscommunication.
But from the way you scooch closer to Milly, who’s the only other person next to you, Nai decides you’re letting him gracefully take what belongs to him…
… that is until a certain ravenette moves ever so slightly swifter than him and plops himself right next to you.
“Ah, shit,” Wolfwood expresses, manspreading his legs so there’s little to no room on the rest of the bench. “Sorry man, were ya about to sit here? My bad, but today was leg day at the gym. Hope ya can understand.” An impish smirk toys on Wolfwood’s lips as they dangle a cigarette almost mockingly. He gestures to the more gracious space on the other side of the table, where Vash pats down a spot for Nai to sit, Wolfwood’s antics going unnoticed by him.
You take the cigarette out of his mouth, your fingertips just barely feathering over Wolfwood’s lips. “Not here, mister. There’s a strict no-smoking policy here.”
Nai can only grimace and sit stiffly next to his brother, his eyes never leaving Wolfwood’s playfully wicked ones. 
With hardened icy orbs, he closely examines the sight across from him as you and Wolfwood exchange words, catching up for the evening and laughing nonchalantly, something Nai was never to particularly do as easily as him, something he was never able to get the hang of. A few drinks that the people had ordered earlier come by, and the veins in his eyes nearly pop when Wolfwood reaches over and sips your mango and dragonfruit cocktail from the same straw your lips had touched. 
“Hey!” you exclaim. “At least ask permission first, Nico.”
Nico.
That nickname that you affectionately give Wolfwood sounds like nails on a chalkboard to Nai’s ears, or like a fork on a ceramic plate. He twinges, his neck cracking menacingly from the reaction.
Wolfwood smacks his lips, fully examining the flavor before complimenting it. “Y’got good taste in liquor, sweetheart. Gimme some more.” 
“Absolutely not,” you huff. “This cost me too much, go get your own.”
Wolfwood’s arm suddenly lazily plops itself across your shoulders, pulling you (and the drink) into him closer. “Now, don’t be like that. Do some charity work for this old man. C’mon, didn’t mama ever tell ya to share?”
Nai’s eyes narrow behind the cocktail menu as he watches you blithely attempt to wriggle out of Wolfwood’s grasp, both of you exchanging inaudible laughs with each other. You sigh and cave in to his stubbornness and Nai miserably watches as you indirectly kiss Wolfwood through the shared straw that switches between your lips and his, you being completely oblivious to the gesture.
He looks over to the doors. The exit sign looks deliriously tempting right now.
For Nai, the night is quiet, something that isn’t a stranger to him when he’s around a group of people that he isn’t used to. For everyone else, however, it’s rowdy and boisterous and exciting. Adrenaline and alcohol is the only thing that everyone knows of. A song would come by and people would be racing to the dancefloor, flooding it with slurred-out lyrics and stimulating dance moves. Various glass and food trays have splattered themselves over the table, and Nai himself can feel a hefty buzz from the alcohol he’s consumed beginning to kick in.
His vision has finally adjusted to the darkness and he can see you much more clearly now. You’re envisioned in his sights just chattering aimlessly with Meryl, you three being the only ones seated still at the table as everyone else dances their night away—it’s then that Nai realizes that you haven’t gone out to the dancefloor like he has, yet, seeing as how you lacked the sweat and exhaustion everyone else was ornate in. 
It’s also then that Nai realizes he still hasn’t said a single word to you tonight—the one person that he managed to fix his appearance for.
He’d never admit that though, he thinks to himself as he downs another shot, he’d rather slit his own throat than willingly admit he attempted to fix up his appearance for your sake. Tongue hissing through his teeth at the sting of it, he blinks slowly at you when Meryl finally escorts herself out to go back to the dancefloor.
“You’re not gonna join them?” Nai finally begins, the hesitation in him hours beforehand suddenly dissipating as the alcohol reaches his system.
From your own reaction, it seemed as if you didn’t expect Nai to talk to you first, especially in such a social setting. Your mouth opens, but no words exit your lips for a few seconds before you softly smile and shake your head, “They have yet to play a song I actually want to dance to,” you murmur with your gaze turning affectionately to your friends. 
“So what’d you even pay your money for here?” Nai snorts. “Just to drink and eat? Do that at Jeneora Rock, then,” he mutters.
You narrow your gaze at him suspiciously through the frame of your drink, sipping on it ardently. “That’s rich coming from you, hm?” you test, raising a brow. “If anything, I should be saying that to you, Mr. Shut-In.”
A scoff brushes through his lips. “I was dragged here by a certain someone, if you haven’t realized yet. I’m not here voluntarily. Why would I be?” 
“It’s still quite odd to me, though,” you chuckle. “You’re quite the stubborn one, how ever did Vash manage to drag you out of your man-cave that you call your room? Truly is a mystery.”
Your tongue is just as sharp as ever—just how Nai likes it. Loves it, even. Maybe it’s because you’re the only person that returns his energy back with equal zeal, or maybe he just merely laps up any bit of attention you give him. He’d rather be tortured than admit it, but there’s that certain sting that he lavishes in at your insults. It’s the same sting that mimics itself in the alcohol he consumes ever so slowly… perilous, but addicting. Dare he say it’s the internal masochistic tendencies he lets out once in a while that makes him tempted to lure them more out of you.
Opportunity arises and he replaces Milly’s spot on the curved bench. It’s his turn to let a breathy laugh escape him, not sure whether it’s because of amusement from your words or because he’s amused at his own out-of-the-ordinary behavior tonight. “Figure that out by yourself,” he replies coolly, his fingers fiddling with the shot glass. “Since you’re so smart.”
“Oh?” you raise a brow, a faux gasp escaping you. “Was that a compliment from the one and only Nai Saverem? Should I be graced with such honor?”
He sneers lightly with a roll of his eyes following shortly. “Savor it while you can, because I’m not handing any more out.”
You feign a light pout with your lips, and Nai swears that the small head tilt you give him will lead to his demise. A swift glance at them reveals that even in the dimness, there’s a hypnotizing gloss left upon them, but Nai can’t tell if it’s because of the shared saliva between you and a specific smoker or if it’s just from all the alcohol left on your lips. Do they taste like the mango dragonfruit cocktail from earlier, he wonders, or do they now taste of a mixture of—
He blinks and returns his eyes to yours, a curious glaze still running over them. A poor attempt at distraction for himself is made by pouring two shots for you and him. 
“Oh, boo,” you sigh as you gracefully take one of the shots given by him before clinking your glass together with his. “What a waste.”
A blonde eyebrow raises itself up as you and him down your shots together. “Waste of what?”
You smack your lips from the sting of the shot. “Waste of time getting ready,” you shrug as you examine your painted fingernails. Your eyes suddenly fleet to his from a side view, and Nai swears that there’s the lift of a disappointed smile creeping on your face. “I got dolled up for no reason, then.”
And it’s there where his nerves go haywire for a split second. Nai is about to shoot back with something along the lines of wanting you to elaborate, wanting to know what the hell you meant by that, but he’s cut off at the sudden boom of the bass and beginning lyrics that makes your head whip to the dance floor. A celebratory shout rings through the nightclub at the song, per usual, with the additions of some whistles and woops from your friends. 
“C’mon, (Y/N), this is your song!” Vash shouts, motioning his hand to join you with everyone else. Everyone else chimes in with their attempts to woo you in with them. 
A short burst of laughter leaves your vodka-stained lips before you lick them, shrugging your shoulders again in fake-doubt. Panic shoots through Nai oh so suddenly. His plans to gain some alone time with you are ruined by the song that booms through the speakers. Quickly, he pours two shots into the two spare shot glasses and shoves one of them to your hand to attempt to distract you. He’s about to protest against you joining them, but a certain black-haired bastard cuts through one again.
“Promiscuous girl… wherever you are~” Wolfwood sings roughly, approaching you with his hand out rather princely. “C’mon, now, you heard ‘em. Time for ya to shine.”
“Dunno, the floor looks pretty packed…” a soft tease creeps through your tone. You share a glance with Nai and you’re a little taken aback by the irritation that he doesn’t try to hide anymore towards Wolfwood’s consistent cockblocking given how furrowed his brows are.
And it clicks to you suddenly—as to why Nai, the man who appears outside of campus once in a blue moon—was here in the first place. Why he wanted to sit next to you, why his eyes were consistently on you throughout the night, why he even came to an event like this. It drips with a one-sided acknowledgement, and your tongue darts out to lick your lips once more just before you down your handed shot for an extra confidence boost and take Wolfwood’s calloused hand. You might as well toy with him now that he’s here.
“Fuck it. Let’s go, Nico.”
Nai twitches again at the nickname.
“These for us?” Wolfwood snatches the spare shot Nai poured for himself on the table. “Thanks!” With him downing Nai’s shot meant for himself, Wolfwood shoves the shot glass back into Nai’s hand and escorts you to the dancefloor with his hand on the small of your back. 
But not without throwing a smirk over his shoulder to Nai.
Nai’s blood is about to boil to demonic temperatures whilst he watches a rare side of you expose right in front of him. He thinks the sight should be reserved just for him; hips swaying, head thrown back to relish the rhythm, lips syncing to the lyrics. But no, you’re there for all eyes to see and admire, especially a specific flirt’s.
Wolfwood trades the lyrics on and off with you, taking the role of the male voice in the song as his hands run down from your waist to your hips. Your back touches his front chest, lip bitten as he whispers the lyrics into your ear. His ringed fingers teasingly drum themselves on your curves, and there’s a desire embedded in them to go just ever so slightly lower on your body. A flash of red races through Nai’s vision when Wolfwood gently pulls your body towards him, unaware of a pair of eyes that carefully watch his reaction at the intimacy you and Wolfwood share.
“I want you on my team…” Wolfwood mutters hotly into your ear. His teeth get tempted by the shell of your ear that almost asks to be pierced by his sharpened canines, and he draws them slowly closer to it to mark his territory, a tongue running over them hungrily.
But you spin around and push him away teasingly, leaving the stubbled man tempted. 
“So does everybody else,” you chant with a cheeky smile before you fend off to dance with the others.
Nai is almost proud from the way you just about make yourself out of reach for Wolfwood. He watches as Wolfwood pokes his tongue in his cheek from what seems to be… frustration, perhaps? A flush of amusement goes by as quick as it comes in Nai’s head. The ravenette man merely shakes his head with a chuckle before resuming his antics with the others, but Nai notices how his tawny eyes don’t exactly leave you when you indulge with the others—much like his own sky blue ones.
The song ends with a riotous cheer through the dancefloor that haunts Nai’s ears. Now the only one isolated at the table, he can only watch from a distance as you smile widely and thank everyone for dancing with you. His heart lifts from its place in a pit at the sight of your footsteps beginning to come back to the table—to come back to him, but you’re yanked back by Milly and Vash when another familiar song seeps through the speakers. Wolfwood, however, manages to return you to him as a Pitbull song bellows from all sides, and his grip on you seems more stubborn, more resistant this time. Your chests are dangerously close to each other and the mere centimeters of distance between you two makes Nai’s jaw grit with aggravation. 
Wolfwood mouths to you some suggestive lyrics that make you raise a brow and grin at him. Nai hates, despises, even when he shortly follows up with his fingers close the distance between your bodies and whispers promiscuously, “And baby, I'ma make you feel so good, tonight,” into your ear.
With a gasp, a shy shiver runs up your spine at his breath so close on your skin. Nai’s grip on the shot glass is so dangerously tight, the glass threatens to self-destruct in his to-be-bleeding palm if it doesn’t loosen up any time soon. But it doesn’t seem like his grip is going to weaken and if anything, it strengthens in power when Wolfwood’s teeth go to finally bite the shell of your ear tauntingly, whetted canines glinting with deviltry back to Nai.
Nai is seeing red—angry red—like a bull to a scarlet cape. A single crack crevices itself in the shot glass. He slams it down on the table at the peak of his torment and stands up.
“Nico!” you exclaim with a strained throat at his gesture when he pulls away. You nervously laugh and create a space between you and Wolfwood, who merely replies with a chuckle and a bounce of his shoulders at your embarrassed reaction. “That was—!”
Amusement diffuses across his features, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just playin’ with ya, darlin’.”
“Mind if I come through.” 
Nai’s deadpanned voice interrupts, and it’s toned more as a declaration more than a suggestion. It hasn’t even been a minute, yet he already acknowledges the attention that’s beginning to bring a certain spotlight on him. But it isn’t just his voice that makes heads turn, it’s Nai’s presence itself that makes people all around a little stunned. And Nai knows it, he can feel the stares of not only Vash’s friends, but people all over wondering who the mysterious platinum blonde was on the dance floor whose aura just oozes a certain enigma. 
“Nai?” Vash is the first to question what on earth the Knives Saverem is doing on a dance floor, amidst a crowd that isn’t designated for his liking. “You gonna dance your heart now for once? Don’t be shy now, what happens in Gunsmoke, stays in Gunsmoke!”
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Nai huffs as a response to Vash’s delight. His impassiveness doesn’t waver his twin’s smile, though. “I’m not here to dance or sing or whatever.”
Wolfwood goes to give him a wily look, already knowing the answer to his upcoming question. “Then whatcha here for, big guy?”
You flinch at the way Nai cracks his neck to look at you, his brows furrowing in dismay and it truly doesn’t take long for Vash and everyone else who gazes upon Nai in wonder to realize why the reserved and solitary older twin is here. 
Because he’s here for you. 
Ignoring the way the tightness in his pants form when he subtly wonders upon your lustrous face from the perspire and heat from the body heats (he’s trying unnecessarily hard to avoid looking at your chest window that is glazed with crystalline sweat), he grabs your wrist and only yanks you from the crowd and a smirking Wolfwood, your complaints and pleas falling deaf on his ears.
“Nai?!” you yelp as he leads you down a skinny hallway made up of scarce couples eating each others’ faces off. “What are you d—hey! Answer me!”
Nai hisses you to shut up after a lengthy, boiling silence, to which you sullenly obey to your own wits end. The hallway seems endless, almost, if it weren’t for the emergency exit flashing in the furious red that had filtered across Nai’s vision for a brief moment earlier. 
Now it’s clear to him his true motivation for coming to this inferno of liquor and lust between strangers. The thought of you possibly meddling with someone unknown makes his chest cringe with a flicker of resentment, your body being pressed up against someone nameless is just an upcoming recipe for his own disaster. A gross taste on his tongue suddenly forms when he imagines you entwined with someone’s limbs hotly in the middle of a crowd with intentful eyes that could possibly land on you and your being.
A single bathroom lies at the near end of the hallway and Nai angrily raps his knuckles on it before bursting in when no reply echoes from the other side after only a mere second.
Wolfwood’s younger brother, Livio, stills idly in front of the toilet, and stares directly at you and Nai. While you knew he wasn’t a man of many words, an odd utterance escapes his lips obviously indicating confusion. 
Nai groans and juts his thumb behind him. “Get out.”
“But—”
“Get out, brat.”
Livio stands significantly taller than Nai, despite both men being over a hefty six feet, but Nai’s gaze toward him shoots nothing less than daggers and it’s enough to make the nearly seven-foot man scurry away from the bathroom like a frightened field mouse.
You scoff at him, pitying poor Livio as Nai slams and locks the bathroom door shut. “You could’ve waited for a few minutes for him to do his business.”
“What the hell was that?” Nai spits venomously as he ignores your previous statement. For any person, that icy glare that he currently spots at you would make anyone fall to their knees and do his every bidding. But for you, it stirs up a sudden excitement in your stomach.
“What was what?” you question innocently, eyes fiending a fake confusion.
Nai goes to let out a brief, amused laugh that has traces of spite embedded into it. It’s a mocking sort of laugh—one that powers over your faux ignorance. 
“Don’t play coy with me,” he mutters as he drags a watch-embedded hand across his face, the silver of it glinting at you with temptation. His mind replays the intimacy shared between you and Wolfwood, how there was no gap to bridge between you and him and how his teeth had pierced a piece of him onto you. Malice flickers through his face when the imagery becomes too vivid. “What the fuck was that with you and him?”
“Who? Oh, Nico?”
Disgust fills Nai’s mouth.
“Don’t call him that around me,” Nai states sternly. His body begins to mirror how Wolfwood’s body was acting towards you on the dancefloor, except in the bathroom, you’re all for him to take in. No other bodies, no suffocating heat, no overlight head—just another neon light glowing brightly in the darkness with just enough illumination to bask only you and Nai in a chilled, misty purple fog. “You know that I hate that name.”
“It doesn’t bother you when Vash or Livio says it,” you retaliate with a suspicious look glaring in your eyes. “So why am I the odd one out, huh?”
“Because—” Nai’s voice falls short. He grits his teeth in agitation and to seal the true reason as to why he hates it when your voice specifically calls Wolfwood that stupid name. “‘Cause… ‘cause we’re no longer ten years old, so it’s about time you stop calling him by that childish nickname.”
You let out an obnoxious laugh, obviously poorly humored at Nai’s reasoning. Him and you know that you’ve called Wolfwood “Nico” for ages, that the nickname is older than a decade and giving it up would be out of the blue and uncharacteristic of you.
“If that’s the case,” you mutter as Nai cages you in between the cold bathroom wall and his body, your gazes challenging each other. It takes you an incredible amount of strength to avoid inhaling the sweet scent of his cologne that you’ve savored in before and will savor again and again, and also to avoid questioning the sudden get-up that reveals his skin like never before to others, but seems all too familiar to you. “Then does that mean I should start calling Milly ‘Millicent?’ Should I start calling Vash ‘Valentinez?’ Or perhaps… since nicknames are so childish to you… should I start calling you ‘Knives’ again?” you eye him with darkened eyes, searching for any illicit reaction.
Nai fights the urge to grimace at the strangeness of his real name falling from your lips by pressing his palms deeper into the grout of the tiled bathroom. Anyone that wasn’t you or Vash were only permitted to call him by his true name, that his own nickname given by Vash as children was reserved for people that knew him from a young age—one of them being you. “That… that isn’t what I meant.”
“But you don’t mind, right?” you press. “You want me to call Nico by his proper name? Fine. Then I’ll do it with you too, Knives.” 
He bites the inside of his cheek, rolling his neck out to ease the exhaustion given to him by tonight and you before he brings it back to face you properly. Now instead of his usual frown that’s grimaced with annoyance, there’s now a smirk toying on his own lips; and it’s one that mirrors your own to your own hesitation.
“Funny you say that,” he murmurs, gently pushing one of his legs between yours and nestling his knee between them. He scans your face and satisfaction laces itself in his being as you stiffen as his gesture, letting out a small exclamation. “Because I don’t really think that name sounds too nice when you'll scream it in bed, just like how you did the other night.”
Your eyes widen at his husked tone, taken aback. Another yelp passes through your lips as Nai lifts his knee teasingly higher and the slight force of it makes you grasp onto his exposed, tattooed arm for proper balance. “Wait… Nai—”
“Oh, dear, I thought my name was Knives, though?” he taunts and puts an end to your cockiness. “Mmh, I guess it doesn’t sound too bad. I suppose I like the sound of ‘Oh, god, Knives, fuck me harder!’” He slurs, mimicking your voice. Your mouth goes agape at his poor imitation of your own breathy moans he’s heard you echo time after time. “Or perhaps ‘Knives, I’m sooo close… don’t st—”
It’s your turn to hiss at him to shut up and silence his lips with your own palm despite no one being around you. A bolt of fear runs through your nerves at the sight of Nai’s eyes entwined with a hushed craving that only you know can suffice it. Your brows knit together and Nai’s smirk peeks through the side of your hand, making your eye twitch at his arrogance that’s infected you.
“Shut the fuck up,” you whisper hotly.
Nai takes your hand away from his lips, a firm grasp around your wrist. “What? All I’m doing is just repeating what you said… what was it? Not even two nights ago?”
You bare your teeth in an attempt to hide the rising heat which begins to creep up your skin at the mention of you and Nai’s somewhat disorderly relationship with each other. 
It confuses the both of you—you’re not exactly friends-with-benefits, but you and him tiptoe along the border of what a possible relationship could be like and it’s you and him alive by the day. The only way you and Nai cope with the big pot of feelings boiling in as one in a cauldron is nonsense is through a physical intimacy shared with each other, one that tells the other that no one else gets to have you and him except each other—at least for that tumultuous night tangled in each other’s limbs because neither party wants to share their feelings first. It’s a current deciphering between whether you and Nai assume it’s a weakness to admit your heart, or you merely don’t want to ruin what you have with each other because the potential of it breaking down into nothing scares you both.
You don’t really know how much more you can take, though, prancing around a solidification of a potential label. It’s like toying around with a jack-in-the-box. The crank goes around and around time and time again for endless laps, but there eventually comes that breakthrough where something from the unknown finally bursts open and reveals itself. It could be ugly, it could be beautiful. 
But both you and Nai don’t want to know and would rather drown in ignorance. It is bliss, after all—both metaphorically and physically.
“You wanna play it that way? Alright. Then tell me, what led to all of this?” You gesture to the current position you were entrapped in—Nai confining you with his body and arms, breaths just barely exchanging with another, and a certain aura lingering around in the dim bathroom where the music just barely booms through the walls. “What? Don’t tell me you were jealous of him?” you dare not to say Wolfwood’s nickname directly in front of the very man that loathes him entirely tonight. Your answer comes in the form of Nai’s eye twitching with a poorly-hidden covetousness. “Hm. So you were.”
“I wasn’t, stop jumping to conclusions,” he mutters immediately. Nai can’t tell whether his consciousness is being blurred by the intake of alcohol he’s consumed in the past few hours or if it was the lascivious images of you dancing to your heart’s desire on the flashing dancefloor that managed to hypnotize him.
“Oh, but you totally were,” you titter with a taunt. “C’mon, don’t think I didn’t pick up on the fact that you wanted Nico’s spot next to me when you came in, that you saw him bite my ear—” you see Nai’s eyes flicker on the same ear where a soft mark positions itself on the cusp of it made by yours truly. “—and it being the sole reason why you came to me.” You lift your head up.“Don’t think I didn’t know why you came here, to a nightclub out of all things, either, especially in this outfit,” you whisper.
Nai feels your hands touch his chest, fingers ever so gently running down his exposed skin. They unbutton a singular, tempting button to expose the beginning crevices of his abdominals before your hand latches onto his belt and pulls him towards you by the yank of it. You fight the urge to grin when he grunts and lazily sling your arms on your shoulders to bring him closer to you. 
“... I’m not stupid, Nai.”
He doesn’t pull back when you run your fingers through the locks of his white blonde hair, the same shade of blonde that frames his glassy stare that prods through yours. He knows you aren’t an idiot like most people, that you’re able to read them like a book all too easily, him not being excluded in that. So he gives in—sighs softly and presses his forehead to your own, now being able to smell the faint perfume you usually wear mixed in with some hints of booze. It’s a gesture of intimacy he’s only revealed to you, and he’ll only ever reveal to you.
“So, now what?” he cedes. “Stop torturing me and tell me what you want. What do you want from me, (Y/N)?” 
Eyes lifting from his exposed chest to his that stare you down with a familiar hunger, you mumble to him, “Do you want me?”
You move his hands from the wall to your hips, the same place where Wolfwood’s hands touched moments earlier. It’s almost like you want him to replace Wolfwood’s touch entirely, as if there was a space there only Nai’s hands can fulfill, now. His fingers brazen with anticipation, he drums them the same way Wolfwood did, but to his own beat… to his own rhythm… to his own song.
 Nai stays physically silent, with his only reply being his hands gripping your hips tighter as a confirmation of sorts.
You take his hands squeezing your curves ever so lightly as a yes.
“Then have me.” 
And with that, Nai doesn’t waste any time locking his lips with yours, doing the very thing he wanted to do tonight with the one person he desired with. All flavors of fruit are on your tongue, with his own tasting every inch of you as far as it can reach. A radiant atmosphere of lust and yearn permeates in the bathroom. The bass of the music is the only thing keeping you and him steady together as one connected being, albeit if it wasn’t there, you and him would’ve collided with all surfaces a long time ago due to the haze of desire burning within you both.
You don’t know what’s to come after this. You’ll never know as long as this torturous cycle of a fire of passion blazes in flames on a routinely basis continues because you’re not sure what to feed it next. Nai isn’t sure, either, both persons being ignorant to what has to keep the fire going for more than just a singular, libidinous night amidst each other's bodies. It nips at him and you, the way you’d share such intimacy one night, only for the morning after to go back to what you would consider “normal”, of you and him sharing bickers and taunts instead of blissful sighs and soft whispers of each other’s name, desires of want going hushed between the sheets.
A soft plea of his name echoes through the air before you’re silenced by a deepened kiss that makes you grasp onto his shoulders for dear life because you know that everything will just grow in strength the more seconds pass by. Him and you can only hope what’s to come in the lone bathroom you share with each other on such a fateful night in a fateful nightclub.
After all, what happens in Gunsmoke, stays in Gunsmoke, doesn’t it?
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(a/n): situationships amirite
hi hi! i'm really surprised at myself for cranking out a fic this long in the span of only two days. for reference, "if the shoe fits" took me probably a week and a half to write or so, but i'm gonna take a wild guess and assume i wrote this to use as a distraction from my many essays due soon—yikes! that's okay, as long as i'm writing, still! i actually went to a nightclub that was the prime inspiration for this fic the other day, but i spent my time daydreaming (or nightdreaming? eveningdreaming?) about what knives would do in such a setting instead of being a normal person and drinking and clubbing. the mango dragonfruit cocktail is an actual margarita i drank during then, and though it was pretty delicious, it didn't have wolfwood spit on the straw unfortunately :/
anyways, thank you again to dem for her wonderful trigun college au (please go read it, im on my knees atp), and you for reading. as always, comments and reblogs are never unnoticed and always appreciated <;3!
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heich0e · 11 months
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bright - vash/f!reader/wolfwood (trigun stampede) 2k, part 3 of poly!au, wild west!au, bounty hunters, wolfwood calls reader 'kid' as a petname, this is just sweet n fluffy and nothing is bad (for now...), alexa play home on the range BOUND - poly!au masterlist
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it’s been two days since nicholas and vash returned.
well, two nights and one day, technically, but it all seems to bleed together—the seconds since the two crept through the door at midnight passing slow and sticky-sweet like honey. half the day following their homecoming was spent asleep, just a pile of tangled limbs and warm skin together in your shared bed, and the remaining hours had been spent in that same place as well—though your activities had been far from restful. your body is left tender and heavy and tired as you make up for the day’s work you’d neglected, but those aches are sweet too in their own way; a reminder as sure and tangible as any that your boys are home. 
the day is hot, like most days are on the little homestead where you dwell, and the sun beats down on you oppressively from overhead. at the clothesline, you find some reprieve hiding in the shadows cast by the sheets you’re hanging out to dry, catching in the warm breeze and fluttering as it passes. you’ve got a few more pieces of bedlinen to hang waiting in the basket at your feet, freshly washed and then wrung out until they were a manageable degree of sopping, and you wipe the sweat from your brow before you stoop down to reach for the next one in the pile.
on the front porch, nicholas watches your every move from his favourite rocking chair. you feel his eyes on you even when your back is turned to him.
“hey,” you call back to him dryly, turning and squinting against the brightness as you peer across the yard in his direction. he perks up when you acknowledge him, a brow drawn up in question. “you gonna help me with this? or at the very least pay for the show?”
nicholas stands, laughing a little at your lip, and hops off the edge of the raised porch to saunter over to you at the clothesline.
“pay for the show?” he asks, dipping down so he’s near to you under the brim of your sunhat. his nose is almost brushing yours, so close you think he might even kiss you, but suddenly he snags the next blanket from the wash basket and slinks back again. he shoots you a pointed look as he unfurls the sheet, something akin to a scowl though not quite as severe. “with what money?”
you pucker your lips slightly. he’s not wrong—the purse you keep tucked safely away in the back of your chest of drawers has gotten dangerously light these days—but he doesn’t need to say it like that.
“i can’t believe he blew another fucking job for us,” nicholas mutters with a derisive tch as the two of you work to fasten the wide cotton bed sheet to the line; stretching it out between your bodies until the full width separates you. you struggle to keep it secure as the damp edges flap in the wind. 
you clip your side of the linen down with a clothespin, and then hand him another from the edge of your apron so that he can do the same. he takes the pin without comment, his rough fingers brushing yours as they close around it and pluck it from your grasp.
“you know how he is, nico,” you say quietly, as you have many times in the past. “vash sees the best in people. he just wants to help them.”
“you can’t help wanted criminals,” nicholas bites sharply, pinning his side of the sheet down with an undue amount of force—the rest of the line bouncing lightly from how he’d jostled the length of cord.
you pause.
“we did.”
he huffs, shooting you a resentful look—half-guilty and half-frustrated, all because he knows you’re right.
“that’s different,” he murmurs.
“it’s not,” you counter, the wind lifting the edge of your skirt as it blows past, your eyes remaining unwaveringly fixed to his.
nicholas lets out a weary sigh to be caught and swept away by the breeze, rubbing at the back of his tanned neck as his body slackens in defeat. he stoops down and reaches for the next sheet in the basket.
the two of you work side by side in silence for a while, emptying the basket and filling up the clothesline. there’s nothing around you but the sound of the midday wind whistling through the valley, just the silence you’ve grown used to now after so long. vash went into town that morning to run some errands, so as it stands you and nicholas are the only people around for miles. 
“i’ll look for some more jobs in town to help make ends meet,” you say as you reach up with another clothespin in hand and secure the hem of one of your nightdresses down against the twine of the line. you reach over and do the same to the other side, angling into nicholas’ space as he holds the garment safely in place. “not like there’s any shortage of bullet wounds to patch up around here.”
nicholas catches the brim of your hat between his fingers, tilting it back so he can stare you clearly in the face.
“you’re not going around stitching up strange men,” he says firmly, something possessive and protective in his staunch, unswayable tone. “that’s the rule.”
you huff, your nose scrunching in a weak glare. it’s a rule you'd set for yourself years ago, long before nicholas stumbled into your life: you only tend to the medical needs of the town’s women, no exceptions. this guiding principle is as much for your own sake as it is for theirs, but the local women aren’t the ones running around getting shot in the first place, so while the rule is one that you’ve operated under for as long as you’ve been taking on odd doctoring jobs, lately it’s been holding you back—money’s never been this tight, so there’s never been a reason to change it, but things are different now.
“the girls don’t need me much these days,” you mumble softly, and it’s true: since you started helping more and more of the women in town (beyond just big annie’s working girls,) their overall wellness has improved significantly, which consequently means they don't need to see you nearly as much. “i’ve been taking good care of them.”
nicholas smiles then, a crooked, fond expression—as proud as it is warm. “yeah, you have.”
he lets his grip on your hat fall and leans away, and you do the same—stepping back around to the other side of the basket where you’d started. nicholas snags a cigarette from the holder he keeps on him at all times and pinches it between his lips, then starts fumbling around his pockets for a match.
you look out at the property around you; your little house on one side of the yard, the stable on the other, with the old well pump poised halfway in-between. you’re insulated from the worst of the heat and the elements in this little valley just outside of town, craggy rock formations stretching in a ring around your little homestead, protected on every side. you’ve even got a few meagre patches of green down here, beyond all the brush and bramble. 
it’s not much but it’s something; it’s yours and it’s home.
you turn to your husband, still digging around in his pockets for a match, and you pluck his sad little cigarette from his lips unceremoniously. nicholas looks down at you in surprise, finding you suddenly toe-to-toe with him again. this time you’re softer. this time you’re gentler as you intrude upon his space.
“we’ll make it work, nico,” you say to him with fluttering lashes and a tender gaze, tilting your face up towards his. you fiddle with the cigarette idly, watching the way the gold band on your finger glints in the sunlight. his eyes never stray from your face. “just like we always do.”
“hey!”
both you and the dark-haired man before you’s eyes snap to the other side of the valley at the loud, excited greeting that echoes through the yard. at the top of the beaten dirt path that leads in the direction of town, vash is approaching on horseback. he’s waving his arms overhead, moving at a quick canter like he’s eager to get to you. 
nicholas laughs under his breath at the sight. he steals his cigarette back from your still outstretched hand, tucking it quickly behind his ear, and his hand finds the small of your back. the two of you make your way towards the edge of the property to meet vash upon his arrival, watching as his mare paws at the ground when her rider pulls the reins to a stop.
“what’s all this?” you ask, your eyes tracing curiously over the array of goods that vash has hanging from his saddle. there’s food—you see some local vegetables and jars of pickles and jam—and a bolt of cloth that you can make out right away. he’s hours later returning home than you expected him to be when he departed that morning, and clearly he’d been busy.
vash hops down from his saddle, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek and then another to nicholas’s. 
“what the hell have you been up to?” nicholas asks warily, his lips pulled into a thin line as he scrubs at the spot on his cheek vash had kissed—as though you aren't all perfectly aware of the pleased flush staining the tips of his ears. nicholas has every reason to be wary: vash hadn’t taken much money into town with him, just enough for the few errands he had to run, certainly not enough to explain the splendours he’d returned with.
“you know all the old ladies who sit outside the general store playing bridge?” the blonde asks, his eyes bright behind the lenses of his glasses as he ruffles his untidy hair. “well, one of them stopped me when i was leaving town and asked if i could help put one of her shutters back on since it blew off in that storm last week! once that was done, another one asked if i could look at her well pump because it’s been squeaking so much lately and too hard to turn. i helped out a couple other people while i was in town too! i told them they didn’t have to, but they kept giving me stuff when i was done.”
you feel a smile tug at your lips, peeking over at nicholas beside you to gauge his own reaction. his expression is flat, but you can tell he’s just as amused as you are.
“oh!” vash perks up, his eyes wide. he reaches into the saddle bag and pulls out the bolt of blue fabric you’d been appreciating a moment prior. “this isn’t from them though, it’s from that young couple who live above the post office.”
you know the couple he’s referring to well. they’d just had a baby a few months before, and you’d helped the young wife through her pregnancy and caught the baby when labour finally came. it was a little boy, no bigger than a loaf of bread the first time you’d held him, that they’d named samuel. 
“sammy’s getting big”—vash grins, squishing his own cheeks a little bit with his hands—“super cute and chubby too. they wanted you to have this to say thank you.”
he passes the fabric to you, and you cradle the tightly-wound bundle into the crook of your arm like it’s precious—because it is.
the things vash brought home aren’t enough to live off of indefinitely, but it’s something to help you get by for another little while—at least until another bounty comes through for the boys, or until another mother needs your hand to hold through the quickening of labour. 
it’s something. 
it’s enough for now.
you shoot nicholas a little smirk and he rolls his eyes at your blatant self-satisfaction, at your smugness that you’d been right about finding a way to get by. he looks over at vash who’s watching you both with expectant eyes, waiting eagerly (though perhaps unconsciously) for praise.
after a moment, nicholas plops a hand down into vash’s hair, ruffling it affectionately.
“good job,” he murmurs wryly, removing his hand and pressing a fleeting kiss to the crown he’d just been mussing. vash’s cheeks go pink and pretty at the gesture, teeming with pride. nicholas looks over at you next. “you too, kid.”
you smile, not as brilliant or beaming as vash’s, but with a happiness that’s every bit as sincere.
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Imagine the Trigun Guys Carrying You After Spraining Your Ankle
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(A/N:) I got this idea after seeing some adorable fanart and I wanted to give all the Trigun Stampede guys some attention. Cause I know how it is being a fangirl and not having a lot of different options for my favorite characters that normally go on the back burner. So this is for you cause I’m including Roberto and Knives for y’all! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess
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Vash the Stampede X FemReader
Vash was watching the horizon carefully, looking out for anything dangerous or welcoming towns. The sun was harsher than normal so you found yourself lagging behind. You would have thought you would have been use to Noman’s Land’s harsh environment but your staggering steps said otherwise. Your chalky tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth and your clothes were drenched with sweat. You felt lucky to have Vash around as you would be dead a hundred times over if he hadn’t stepped in and saved you that fateful day. Now you found yourself attached to the man labeled The Humanoid Typhoon as he quickly became special to you. You liked to think you were special to him as well. Vash seemed to be lost in thought or he would have waited a moment longer so you could catch up. Lagging behind further you started up the dune Vash had already climbed halfway up. You huffed, not wanting to be defeated by some stupid sand dune. You had made good progress as you stubbornly refused to give up when your foot planted in a soft spot of the dune. Quickly the ground gave way leaving you pinwheeling your arms to gain your balance back. You steadied yourself for one second when the rest of the dune gave way. Your ankle rolled from the falling sand and down you went tumbling back down the dune.
Vash heard your scream before he could hear your body crashing down. His eyes widened in horror watching you roll and tumble uncontrollably back down. He didn’t waste a second, sliding down the crumbling dune to catch you before you hit the hard ground. You grunted as his grip on your arm stretched your joints but you were thankful he caught you before you shattered your head on the unforgiving rocks below.
“Are you okay,” Vash panted while he checked you over thoroughly.
Despite the blood trickling from some small gashes you felt fine. Your breathing was beginning to calm down from the ordeal but Vash had a look of guilt on his face.
“I think so,” you replied. “It was scary more than anything. You saved me and my brains from being scattered across Noman’s Land.” 
You chuckled but Vash didn’t find it funny as he held onto you tighter.
“I’m sorry I pushed you so hard. It’s my fault you got hurt.”
You sighed, “It’s not your fault. I’m just clumsy sometimes, I’m human I’m going to fall down sometimes. I just gotta get back up.”
You wiggled free from his grasp, rising up from the ground only to topple back down into Vash’s lap as your ankle wouldn’t hold you up.
“Okayyy I can’t get up this time,” you joked. “I guess I sprained my ankle when the sand gave way. You can go on without me and find a town. Surely I can hold out the rest of the day until you can bring help.”
Vash wordlessly stood up, you knew that it was the smart decision. You were a little scared to be left alone but you couldn’t ask Vash to drag you along when you can’t even put weight on your injured leg. Thinking he was about the turn and walk on, you were left speechless when Vash bent down and scooped you up.
“Wha?! Vash what are you doing?! I’m too heavy put me down,” you screeched.
Vash shushed you, “You’re not too heavy and I’m not leaving you here alone. I’ll carry you all the way until we find a place to get you taken care of. I promise.”
Knowing he had made up his mind, you held onto Vash’s coat collar watching the scenery pass you by. This was the Vash you knew and loved. You never wanted to leave his side or stop being there for him. It was only fair that he returned the favor sometimes, though you didn’t want to burden him.
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Nicholas D Wolfwood X FemReader
Nicholas had never thought he could become attached to someone like he was towards you. He had become your protector of sorts as you both trekked across the unforgiving terrain that made up Noman’s Land. When you both had first met he was aloof and kept to himself. He only really started to open up when he found out what kind of person you are. You didn’t judge him about his job or the fact that he had been an experiment for the Eye of Michael cult. Though him smoking you couldn’t let that one go as you scolded him every time he lit another cigarette.
So on the trip to the next town over, Nicholas found himself pushing harder to get there. He was tired of sleeping out in the desert and he was ready for a bed to sleep in and good food in his stomach. Worms could only get you so far, though he didn’t mind eating them. He just didn’t want to hear you whine about crunching on the nasty looking critters. Though he did get some enjoyment of the disgust and whining as he shoved the worms at you.
‘C’mon girlie I caught this one especially for you,” he would coo.
“Ew no thanks,” you would reply.
Nicholas chuckled at the memory while looking back at your lagging form. The sun was sapping your energy as it was at it’s highest peak in the sky. While he wore black and carried a heavy machine gun, no ordinary man should lug around, Nicholas was able to deal with the harsh environment better than you. You kept complaints to a minimum because you knew Nicholas would get annoyed easily. He’s protective of you but he still has his limits and you didn’t want left alone on a dune while he cooled off. 
“It won’t be much longer and we’ll be at the next town,” he said gesturing for you to pick it up a little.
“Good I’m getting sick of this desert wasteland,” you grumbled.
Nicholas chuckled, “That’s the whole planet sweets better get used to it. We just have to cross a few more dunes and we’ll be there.”
Nicholas was climbing one of the first dunes like it was nothing. You geared yourself up for the climb grumbling the whole way.
“I don’t wanna get used to it,” you huffed stomping your foot on the sand. Nicholas opened his mouth to reply and tease you more when your eyes widened. The sand under your feet starting to cave away. You fell backwards twisting one of your ankles and you would have tumbled the whole way down if it wasn’t for Nicholas’ fast reflexes. His cross thrown to the side, he bolted forward, grabbing your wrist and tugging you back to the safety of the more solid sand. You buried your face into his chest, trembling from almost potentially getting hurt worse.
“Are you okay,” he panted tucking your hair behind your ear while checking you over.
“I think so,” you quivered. “My ankle stings pretty bad.”
“Let’s see if you can put any weight on it,” he answered helping you back up. “Upsy daisy.”
You laughed at his choice of words before the pain of weight bearing on your ankle made you hiss in pain and crumple back down.
“I’m sorry,” you were on the verge of tears, “it hurts too bad.”
Nicholas nodded already prepared with what he needed to do. He wasn’t going to leave you out here by yourself. Not with so many threats that prowled the sandy planet. He wordlessly strapped the cross to his back. You couldn’t say anything as you felt horrible that you were becoming such a problem for him. You watched a few rogue tears slip free to fall on the sand when a pair of arms scooped you up. Nicholas wordlessly held you to his chest as he started across the desert sands again.
“Nicholas what are you doing?!”
“Carrying you,” he replied. “No way I’m leaving you alone while I go get help.”
“I’m too heavy and we’re so far from the next town,” you protested.
“I’ll rest when I need to. I’m used to lugging this big thing around you’re nothing to carry.”
“But.”
He cut you off with one look and you wordlessly quieted any arguments that was left on your lips. Nicholas effortlessly carrying you across the desert sands like a black clothed hero.
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Roberto De Niro X FemReader
Roberto always kept one pace when it came to do anything, and that was his pace. He never went faster or slower for anyone. Even when it came to you and you liked to think that he liked you at least a little bit. But now you found yourself taking the lead as you both had to make the trek to the next town. The vehicle’s battery had died in the middle of the hottest time of day and you were ready to get to your destination as that meant water and power. Roberto lagged behind, content on going his own speed while smoking and drinking booze along the way. It didn’t matter that you scolded him that alcohol would just make him dehydrate faster, it just made him take a big swig just to spite you. You glared but turned around to focus back on where you were headed.
“That way sweetheart,” Roberto burped and pointed towards the East.
“I know that,” you huffed before changing directions. Your cheeks flushing red at the nickname he had started to call you a few weeks ago. “And my name isn’t sweetheart.”
“Whatever you say sweetheart.”
You grunted, knowing that any argument would just make him want to call you that worse. So wordlessly you started in the direction he told you. Still leading the way you wanted to converse with Roberto but he wasn���t much for conversation and you usually wound up wanting to argue or push him off a cliff. So you stubbornly remained silent, starting the climb up a tall dune. Since climbing was slowing you down, Roberto was right at your back making his way. You still didn’t speak, just ready to get to safety and get the vehicle you both had to leave behind. Maybe get some water and food while you both waited for help. You daydreamed of clean water and something warm and filling, your mouth beginning to water. You didn’t watch where you were stepping, your mind in the clouds. Your ankle twisted causing you to yelp and tumble backwards. Fortunately for you Roberto was still behind you as he caught you easily. He grunted at the sudden weight but took it easily, steadying you back on your feet. You stumbled immediately as your ankle couldn’t take the weight.
“You okay sweetheart,” he asked before looking at your swelling ankle in concern.
“I think I sprained it,” you hissed trying to hide the tears welling in your eyes. Roberto didn’t say anything else, just went into action by putting your arm around his shoulders and lugging you up into his side. With your weight on him you were able to make it the rest of the way up the dune before collapsing to the ground. You panted wiping the sweat from your brow. You couldn’t even argue about him calling you sweetheart again as he had helped you up. You weren’t expecting Roberto to squat down close to you, his green eyes searching your wounded ankle. You hissed as he prodded it and nodding his head. He wordlessly tore some of his shirt into strips.
“Roberto,” you started.
He shushed you picking up your leg with one hand and placing it on his thigh. You blushed deeply as he gently caressed your leg and wrapped up your ankle with the strips of fabric.
“It’s not professional but it’ll get you to our destination where a doctor can look at it,” Roberto said tying off the last strip. He patted his hand against your skin and you squeaked. “Let’s get going,” he said offering you his hand.
Once again you were lifted up with Roberto placing your arm across his shoulders again. He made sure to go your pace this time, helping you walk across the desert and never leaving your side.
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Millions Knives X FemReader
Knives always kept you at arms length, so you were certain that he felt nothing for you. It didn’t matter if you tagged along or not as he went town to town stealing plants. It was a surprise to all his underlings that he had yet to dispose of you. You didn’t get your hopes up that Knives felt anything for you, your best case scenario was that you were a useful bug and that’s why he kept you around. Another plant mission came around and it was proving difficult enough that Knives was having to go take care of it himself. You were brought along by his wishes. You didn’t understand why, you just knew that he asked and you couldn’t say no.
It made sense that he would leave you behind as Knives was quicker and you were left to trudge all alone trying your best to keep up. You were beginning to wonder if you were just a form of entertainment and a terrible joke to him and the Eye of Michael. You watched Knives’ form grow smaller and smaller before pausing to take a rest. Maybe it would just be easier to be left for dead in the desert anyway as you were tired of trying to find what purpose you had in this cruel world. You stood atop a dune, questioning your entire existence when a worm breached the sand. The huge beast shattering the earth and the dune you found yourself on. Your legs gave way as you fell down. At the bottom you became half buried in the sand, so much that you couldn’t move. You couldn’t have walked even if you wanted to, now that one of your ankles were badly sprained. So you laid in the hot sun waiting for the end to come.
Nightfall came to Noman’s Land and you were still stuck, you had gone through different spells of screaming for help and quiet acceptance. On the verge of passing out, you watched the worms dance across the sky. 
“What happened to you?”
You looked around for the familiar voice before you finally spotted him. Knives knelt down by your head stroking a lock of hair away from your eyes.
“The dune I climbed got destroyed by a worm,” you answered. “Why did you come back for me?”
“I honestly can’t answer that question even to myself,” he sighed rolling his blue eyes. “When I thought about it I couldn’t leave you behind.”
You couldn’t say anything as you were at a loss for words. So you just laid there ankle throbbing unbearably before you felt Knives’ blades moving through the sand and wrapping you in the cool metal. He carefully pulled you from the heavy sand, nestling you against his chest.
“Hang on tight,” he spoke while you grabbed at his cloak. Though still confused on the way he felt about you, there was a little hope that you meant more to Knives than he actually let on.
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whirlwindimagines · 1 year
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hi hi!!! i love your work so much and feel like there is not nearly enough wolfwood/reader content. can i request wolfwood/reader scenario with a very oblivious reader who doesn't realize when wolfwood is flirting with them until it's spelled out or until it's so obvious that they're like "wait are you flirting with me" ("have been for the past few months thanks for noticing" type response)?
Thank you so much! And yeah I agree lol, poor Wolfwood I feel like he wouldn't know what to do with such an obvious person like he's making big heart eyes and you straight up don’t notice at all. Lol, enjoy! Also, I’m not good at writing about flirting :D
'Notice me'
Nicholas D. Wolfwood x Reader 
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“This is just painful.” You glance over at Meryl confused, “What are you talking about?” she gives you a deadpanned look, had you seriously not noticed Wolfwood staring at you for the past ten minutes? You watched Meryl open her mouth to say something, but it looks like she decides against it, “Never mind, you’ll figure it out!” she says with a wave of her hand. 
She leaves you then, you're still confused by the whole conversation, but you don't need to think about it long when Wolfwood sits down in the seat Meryl was sitting in and places a drink in front of you. You light up at seeing him and thank him for the glass. 
You notice him staring openly at you, placing a hand to your face you meet his gaze, “what? Is there something on my face?” Wolfwood startles, downing his drink instead of answering. You watch him raising a brow as he smirks at you. 
“I’m just thinking how lucky I am to be having a drink with the most beautiful person in here.” Your eyes widen, and you look around the room before pointing to yourself, “me?” You squeak out, and he gives you a deadpan look. Funny you’ve been receiving a lot of these looks today.
“You think I’m pretty?” You say with a nervous laugh, really looking at Wolfwood, you can feel your face growing warm. What is happening here? Surely, he couldn't really think that? Could he… 
“No, I said you're beautiful.” He leans in closer, and you blush brightly, your hands going to your face. “Careful Wolfwood if I didn’t know any better, I would say you're flirting with me.” You say this with a light laugh. Because no way, Wolfwood was attractive, and he knew it too he could probably have anyone he wanted in this bar. Yet here he was with you instead.
Wolfwood leans back with a groan, he takes your unfinished drink and downs it in one go you can only watch surprised, “I am flirting with you.” He says as he drops his head to the table, the ‘thud’ is audible and you swear your heart stops beating. 
His words register in your mind and then your jaw drops, because what? “You are!?” You say surprised, “I have been this whole time.” You start to think back on all your interactions, and ohhhh…. Yeah, maybe those were flirty…. You feel bad now, reaching across the table, and resting your hand on his head to run your fingers through his dark hair.
“Oh well! Please continue then!” God, you are so embarrassed, how could you be so dense? He grabs your wrist and it stills your actions. Wolfwood brings your wrist to his face and places a light kiss on the inside of your wrist. Your whole face flushes and you make a strangled sound.
Wolfwood looks at you with that damn smirk, “well if you say so.” You laugh, God what have you just unleashed on yourself? You don't pull your hand back, choosing to lift his face gently “Well don't hold back for my sake, let's just say I’ll be paying much closer attention now. Nicholas” Your heart skips a beat at his blush. 
Well, this was certainly a change, but a welcome one. You had no idea you had such an effect over the Punisher, you were definitely looking forward to future exchanges between the two. “Now I think you owe me another drink.” You say pulling your hand back, with a smile.
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jottositto · 1 year
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MIND GAMES! ft. nicholas d wolfwood.
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★ description—x gn! reader. you’re a temptation that nicholas is unable to resist and you enjoy watching the fall. [wc: 1.6K]
★ content—suggestiveness, sexual implications, tension, not smut though! indirect saliva swapping, moreno/brown&implied hispanic! nicholas d wolfwood, nicholas being a total simp for you, me being a simp for you why’d i write you so sexy, blasphemy probably! comments and reblogs appreciated.
★ a/n—this was meant to be a fluff drabble at first, but yeah that didn’t work out. i have very mixed feelings about this piece of writing??? not sure if i like it or hate it. i like the reader wearing boxers concept so i will probably reuse it again, it fulfills my gender satisfaction. on the fence of how i write nicholas rn.
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“Are you wearing my boxers?”
Nicholas D. Wolfwood stares over at your groggy figure with crossed arms and a thin, white stick from a lollipop poking out the corner of his lips. The candy only serves to muffle the words that sound from deep within his chest.
From your splayed-out position on the couch, your shirt rests nicely above your stomach. Showing off the vast ocean of your thinly sweat-stained skin as well as the happy trail that leads to and stops at black and blue plaid boxers. Nico’s black and blue plaid boxers. Your sand-coated pants had been long discarded into the pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the dingy room.
And your half-lidded hues are droopy from having just woken up from a well-deserved nap. And after traveling for hours and hours on foot, the decision of choosing the couch over the bed was simply one of convenience. (Plus, you were sure the bed was bound to have some questionable stains)
Nicholas, on the other hand, had already been awake for a while now. Vash dragged him out of his slumber to take a trip into the town to gather some supplies and fetch the group something to eat.
It was the middle of summer and the shitty hotel— surprise, surprise— had a shitty air conditioner. One had to stand in front of the bulky box sticking out of the cracked windowsill to feel anything that came out of it, and even then it was just a gentle warm breeze that fell hot as soon as it reached you.
Stretching your arms behind you, the white top you wear drifts further up your stomach and bunches up just below your chest. You make no move to pull it down, instead voicing, “In case you forgot, smart guy, my luggage got lost when we got eaten by that giant bug.”
You watch the way his eyebrow twitches and it brings you great pleasure in knowing you’re getting under his skin. Said pleasure is evident by the coy smile that curls at the corners of your mouth. By now he’s forgotten why he’d barged into your room in the first place.
Your dearest Nico was hardly ever on the receiving end of this kind of treatment but rather was the cause for such disdain— usually directed at Vash and Meryl. It’s what made these reactions all the more amusing.
The undertaker had finally met his match. Someone whose arrogance and charm were enough to rival his own.
“Alright, but the fuck does that have to do with why you’re wearing my underwear?” He grumbles, rubbing at his temple in annoyance. But his eyes never leave your tantalizing figure, you’re teasing him. You have to be because he knows how much of a brat you can be sometimes.
Tonguing at your cheek, both your eyebrows raise. The smile you wear gradually turns into a smirk and you watch him curse under his breath as he fights the urge to let his eyes roam anywhere other than your smug face.
His resolve begins to crumble and finally, he allows his irises to drink in and scan over every piece of exposed skin you have to offer. It’s abundant and he doesn’t believe there’s anything else more holy than the sight right in front of him.
Your own wandering eyes turn him into nothing more than a flustered pile of mush. His tanned, sun-kissed skin is heated by your blitheful gaze. The suit he wears suddenly grows unbearably tight (especially his pants), almost like it was shrinking in on him.
“Would you rather I wear Vash’s?”
A scowl appears on his chiseled features— generally, he wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he found that he can’t help himself around you. The mere notion of you wearing anyone else’s clothes makes him uncomfortable despite his previous berating. It irritates him that it does because you two have no claim over each other.
Just two people hitching a ride together and coincidentally happening to have the most stagnant sexual tension in the history of mankind. No big deal.
His jaw is unreasonably tense and he rubs over it, smoothing the muscles with his calloused fingers. The same fingers that itch to explore every detail, every crevice of your body.
Nicholas begins to dwell further on your relationship with him (dangerous, he knows), and simply put; it was a game of cat and mouse. In this instance, he certainly felt like the mouse. But now that he really thought about it, when had he not been?
A ‘Will they? Won’t they?’ air followed the two of you wherever you both went. The tension was beginning to get suffocating though, to him and the other three you were traveling with.
Still, you seemed to be breathing that same suffocating air just fine. In fact, you relish it.
“You’re shameless,” His gruff voice breaks through the silence, he’s well aware of the hypocrisy of those two words. Telling you you’re shameless when he’s practically already undressed you with his eyes. Because even with your half-naked form, he still aches to see more.
His heart hammers against his chest and he can practically hear his pulse as he watches you sit up from your previous position. Gulping down the lump in his throat, your movements are relaxed and sluggish. Pretty hands taking their time in coming up and rubbing over your face and neck.
His eyes continue to linger, watching as your lips contort into a large O shape as you yawn. You’re hunched over lazily, legs remaining open in a man-spread position before your impish eyes find his ogling ones once more.
After taking a couple of seconds for yourself, you stand up and make your way over to him. He takes a step back and you laugh, your shirt has dropped back to its original length and it registers to him that it’s actually just cropped. It suits you well and he has to resist the urge to reach out and touch the visible flesh.
Uttering something unintelligible and in another language beneath his breath. Spanish, you recognize, something that rarely comes out from him. He’s completely exasperated by these games of temptation you’re playing with him. But you’ve only just begun, it hasn’t even gotten to the fun part yet.
Your hands extend, fingers plucking the sweet treat still in his mouth and planting it in your own. Strawberry flavored, you hum at the taste of pure sugar coated with his spit.
His mouth has gone completely dry at this point, he’d been unaware of just how desperate he was for any amount of attention from you up until now. His tongue jutted out and dragged over his chapped lips. All he can do is watch you.
Deriving enjoyment from such a scene, you allow the candy to rest on your tongue the same way it had on his. The power you held over such a big, strong man-made your ego swell with pride.
The Punisher, what a joke.
“You’re shameless, says the slutty priest.”
“It’s not—” He stops himself, embarrassed at how hoarse and fucked his voice sounds. You let out a series of chuckles as he clears his throat, leering at him as he tried to pick up and piece together whatever dignity he has left to no avail. “I’m not slutty.”
You cock a singular brow, doubtful of the response he’s given you. Not slutty? Who was he trying to fool here? Your pearly canines peeking through as you nibble on your lower lip.
“Yeah?” Your hand snakes towards him and before any contact is made, he can already feel the warmth of your hand. The skin-to-skin contact on his chest leaves goosebumps running down his arms and shivers trailing down his spine. If there was any doubt in his mind regarding god’s existence before, this proved these doubts to be incorrect.
The array of undone buttons leaves you room to trail a single finger up his cleavage before the other four join in feeling up the stretch of his pretty, brown skin. Bypassing the cool material of the rosary that nicely adorns his neck. His body hair tickles the soft edges of your fingers, and you take your time in familiarizing yourself with what is soon to be all yours. “How do you explain this then?”
It was as if you wanted to kill him, he’s left tongue-tied and weak in the knees. Your touch is exhilarating and he’s unable to focus on anything else but that specific warmth provided by you. A warmth that he’ll soon acquaint himself with very well. You’ve won whatever game you’ve been playing with him and are free to indulge in your prize.
“What? Cat got your tongue, Wolfwood?"
Pulling back from his proximity, you want to test his reaction. In a surprising move, Nico’s hand clasps around your wrist to keep you from retreating. His eyes are overflowing with desperation, he’ll take anything you give him.
Bringing your hand forward to cup his cheek, it’s almost second nature the way he leans into your touch. The unbelievable softness you receive from Nicholas Wolfwood has your heart skipping a beat. Planting a kiss on your wrist, the spot tingles in the aftermath.
“Say yes, Nico.”
And he couldn’t care less about what he was saying yes to. He could be signing his soul away for all he knew, but even in acknowledging this possibility, he wouldn’t change his mind. You’d consumed him for all that he was— body, mind, and soul.
“Yes.”
Now the real fun could begin.
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Thinking about the possible idea of how utterly jealous Wolfwood could be before he gets into an actual relationship with you and how much he HATES when others flirt with you in front of him.
However rather than be an actual reasonable adult and TALK to you about it, he finds his own ways to state his feelings.
He'll do everything to state to any attempted interlopers that he already has his eyes on you and he DOES NOT intend to let them get close.
He's even more touchy with you than he typically is, any excuse to brush past you, or to bump his shoulder against yours, toss an arm over your shoulders and lean all his weight against you, or to stroll up to you while this new idiot is trying their best to flirt with you, he's going to take it!
If that still doesn't get the message across, he'll be a little more blatant (at least in his eyes).
Anything of his that he can attach to you, to even imply that you're already taken, he's going to.
His suit jacket draped over you, his hat or his glasses placed on your head, anything he can basically pry off himself and place on you, he's going to take full advantage of it.
He'll claim it's not his fault if people automatically assume that means you're with him.
His final ace is the lollipops he always carries with him.
He may prefer a cigarette but if he's honest with himself, nothing compares to the surprise on your face when he (carefully) pops the lollipop straight from his own mouth into yours (typically while you're mid conversation with Meryl or Vash).
Your expressions are always worth it as far as Nico is concerned.
Nicholas can practically feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as you realize what he's done. But he'll brush it off, trying to play it like he's done nothing wrong at all, with a simple
“What?? It's not like this is the first time we've swapped spit?"
THAT comment will surely be enough to scare off anyone who still dares to attempt to get too close to you, even if he has to endure you, fulled by embarrassment, smacking at his chest, he considers it worth it.
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anyasathenaeum · 8 months
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Romance/fluff prompt 3 with wolfwood? Maybe the reader just casually takes his shirt
A/N: Awwww yes! That's kinda cute so here, have some fluff!
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Wolfwood couldn't find his shirt.
No matter where he looked for it, it was nowhere to be found. He had checked the drawers in the room, and through every pile of clothing he had come across - nothing.
He had been wounded pretty badly, and while his vials managed to get him to a point where he was stable, they didn't fully manage to heal him with how much damage he had taken. The last thing Wolfwood could even remember was you trying to support him and get him to what looked like an abandoned, run down house.
Imagine his surprise upon waking up in a bedroom filled with dust and sand, on an old but still intact bed. Wolfwood had blinked around, trying to piece together what had happened during his unconsciousness, and that's when it hit him - his wounds were healed.
That's when he heard the humming.
It was a familiar voice - your voice. Humming some ancient love song with long-forgotten lyrics as you did whatever you were doing in the next room over.
Wolfwood all but shot out of bed, wanting to see you and talk to you, but he realized his shirt was missing. You had likely taken it off to tend to his wounds.
"Damnit!" Wolfwood muttered to himself as he gave up looking for his shirt. Maybe it had to have been cut off of him. Either way, Wolfwood found himself frowning in annoyance - he had really liked that shirt.
Your humming suddenly snapped him out of his search, and when he approached the door, Wolfwood realized the door wasn't fully closed. He peaked out from the opening, hoping to see what you were up to. What he saw absolutely stunned him.
There you were, in a ruined, decrepit, long-abandoned living room, humming to yourself and swaying happily with something in your hands. Wolfwood could see other clothes hanging from a makeshift clothesline - had you done laundry?
To his surprise, his heart rate hit the roof and he felt his heart do some funny things in his chest. Why did the sight of you doing something as simple as laundry make his heart want to burst? Why did you humming a love song make Wolfwood want to dance with you, to spin you around and dip you dramatically to surprise you?
Then, his heart all but stopped when he recognized the thing in your hands.
His shirt.
He watched you give the shirt a tender and gentle hug, holding it against your face with such care that you'd have thought it were made of glass. You took a breath before hanging it up with the rest of the clothes you had presumably washed, gazing at it with affection.
Wolfwood had to stop himself from storming out of his hiding spot and kissing you then and there. Instead, a small smile appeared on his face, and he allowed himself a moment of true joy as he realized that maybe, just maybe, he made you as happy as you made him.
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angelltheninth · 1 year
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Nicholas D. Wolfwood Being Your Bodyguard
Pairing: Nicholas D. Wolfwood x Fem!Reader
Tags: fluff, teasing, developing relationship, playful touching, kissing for cover, Reader being pinned against the wall, flustered!Reader, flirty!Nicholas
A/N: I haven't been able to stop thinking about this concept since I saw him.
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Nicholas is pretty relaxed on most missions, not because he doesn't take them seriously, he knows he has to, but most of them are boring to him, a routine of sorts
Imagine his surprise when he saw that his contract included guarding a lovely lady like yourself
The moment he saw you he ran his eyes over your body, making you a little self conscious
According to him you need to cover up a little because your beauty will attract all sorts of attention, a very wrong kind too
Guess that's why called him isn't it
Holds his cross over one shoulder and the his other arm is either on your back to keep you moving forward or he's holding you around your wrist, gently its not good practice to hurt his clients
Unless he has to knock them out when they're being too hard to deal with
But you don't have to worry about that, he's not gonna hurt your pretty face
He doesn't really care of you like him smoking or not, its his ritual, he's not gonna stop just to make you more comfortable when he's just gonna be working with you for a few days at most
Hates waiting for you to get ready in the morning
Doesn't really get why you're so shy about sleeping in the same room as him, how else is he gonna protect you if someone tries to kill or kidnap you at night
No shame when he himself is half naked in front of you
Thinks you're cute when you get flustered when you see him half naked
Considering everything he's been through, he's pretty proud of his body
Will point his weapon at anyone who approaches you but won't use it indoors, that's what his fists are for
Is pretty impulsive when it comes to problem solutions
To be fair he does say sorry before he pulls you into a kiss in the hallway as he tries to play the role of your lovestruck boyfriend
He can't help but take advantage of your gasp to slip his tongue into your mouth, you're a pretty good kisser once you relax into it
Sorry if he startled you but when it comes to shutting you up he'd much rather kiss you then knock you out, unless that kiss of his was enough to do that
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wreckmetoji · 1 year
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Stargazing and Cigarettes
A fic in which Nicholas D. Wolfwood is bad at feelings
↳ Nicholas D. Wolfwood/Reader
content.  gender-neutral pronouns, fluff, wolfwood got a little angy, it’s ok give him a smooch anyways
3.4k words
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Some may say Gunsmoke is the epitome of misfortune. If you're misfortunate enough to be born on this hellscape of a planet, you'll die an untimely death at the hands of someone or something completely out of your control. The violent crime rates were high, and the likelihood of terminal starvation and dehydration were even higher. But, although some may say that, others– not many, however– would disagree. My favorite thing... is when the sun disappears behind the dunes. When everything is cast in pink and orange and everything is so soft and the air is cooling down. It reminds me that, even through the worst of days, things will be okay in the end, as long as I keep pushing forward. It's evenings like that you learned to appreciate the most, only with the help of your blond travelling companion. Vash had put life into a new perspective for you, had an arm around your shoulders when you were sulking about being hungry, or hot, or absolutely exhausted. He was a good person, an even better friend. You came to be quite fond of everyone, really. Vash, Meryl, Roberto, and admittedly an extra soft spot for the newest addition, Wolfwood. He was brash, cocky, and more often than not, he was a grump. He never seemed to direct his ire at you though, you had noted this at some point while the five of you sat in some hole in the wall diner enjoying a very inexpensive meal. You can't even remember what the argument was about, if you were being completely honest. Meryl would have her one-sided bicker with Wolfwood, then Vash would interject and inadvertently make himself the target. At some point you had sighed, the sheer amount of personalities in one group clashing was giving you a migraine, and looked up at Wolfwood with pleading eyes. Really, you hadn't even said anything, the look you gave him seemed to be more than enough for his eyes to widen, then narrow, turning his head to look out the half-boarded up window he was sitting next to. Not so much as a peep came out of his mouth for the remainder of the meal, and you appreciated it despite how out of character it was for Wolfwood to be completely silent. You smiled, eyes watching the stars above as you recollected the memory. The car battery had once again been neglected, decidedly leaving your little group stranded for the night. Vash had assured everyone this was as good a spot as any, since not a lot of bandits OR worms came this way, but the at least I think so tacked onto the end left everyone unsettled and eager to start the trek to the nearest town first thing in the morning. It really is beautiful, you found yourself thinking, watching the pink and orange sky slowly fade darker and darker, making way for the stars and constellations to shine so clearly, so beautifully. You sighed, sitting up in your sleeping bag and looking around the sad little impromptu camp to find everyone asleep, or trying to sleep. You and Meryl had been given the rights to sleeping in the car, however you found yourself politely declining. I stay up late, and I like watching the stars was the excuse you used. So, instead, Meryl and Roberto took the car to sleep in, leaving Vash, Wolfwood, and you under the chilly desert sky. The small fire someone, most likely Vash, had graciously started prior to heading off to bed definitely aided in your evening chills, but you knew deeper into the night would be difficult to sleep through. Letting out a small grunt, you stood from your spot, shuffling out from your little sleeping bag. Vash was a few feet away from you, face peaceful as he ever so quietly snored. A hard exhale from your nose, followed by a quick glance around camp, you noticed a missing member. A part of you would like to say you were surprised, but the other part of you thought it was very typical and on-par that Wolfwood wouldn't display such a vulnerable act of sleeping peacefully around a group of people in the middle of nowhere. He wouldn't be difficult to find, you thought with a slight smile, if the distant smell of cigarette smoke was anything to go off of. And difficult to find he was not, considering you had only taken a few strides to get around the mobile storage container on the back of the vehicle, seeing him sitting with his back against the cold metal. A cigarette hung loosely from his mouth, sunglasses fallen down the slope of his nose. Evidently, he had anticipated you before you had even spotted him, with how his dark eyes were trained on you through the corner of his vision before you even had the chance to look down at him. All you did was wave, rocking back on your heels when he said nothing. "Want some company?" You took the deep exhale from his nose as a sure whatever, sauntering over to stand beside him, pressing your back to the container, and sliding down to mimic his posture. It was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Copious amounts of prolonged silence wasn't something you got a lot of in your travels, so there seemed to be a mutual understanding to simply enjoy the moment and each others' presence. "What're you still doing up, anyways," Wolfwood finally muttered, breaking the silence. How long had it been? Five, ten, twenty minutes? Long enough for the last reaches of the sun to dip below the horizon, now only leaving you to bask in stars and moonlight. "Dunno," You shrugged, arms wrapping around yourself as you bunched your knees up, "I like watching the sun go down when I can. It reminds me that even on the worst days, everything is just temporary. With every sunset is an ending, and every sunrise is a new beginning." A small smile crept up onto your lips at the scoff he gave you. He didn't have to say it, but you knew what he was thinking. You've been hangin' out with that needle noggin too much. There was another extended period of silence. "What about you?" You returned, head tilting back against the metal behind you as you looked up at him. "No rest for the wicked, as they say," He sighed, taking the cigarette butt from his mouth and flicking it somewhere in the distance. You didn't understand what he meant by that completely, so you decided to glance away and not say anything at all. Something you and Wolfwood seemed to have a mutual understanding of was knowing when to accept you can't know everything and just move on. The quiet crinkle of plastic pulled your attention back to him, his hand fishing another crumpled cigarette from his pocket. This time you were the one to scoff. You opened your mouth to speak, but his elongated groan of disapproval beat you to the punch. "Don't wanna hear it. If I didn't know what these were doing to me I wouldn't be smokin' 'em," His words were muffled by the object between his lips, one hand cupping in front of his face to block the non-existent wind, the other flicking the lighter to life. Fair enough. He took a deep inhale, exhale following quickly suit. The plume of smoke that surrounded him and tapered off into the night sky was hypnotic, the twists and turns performing an intricate dance with a mind of its own that you've learned to describe as simply very Wolfwood. An enigma, a man of little words and a heavy burden. What that burden was, you don't think you would ever learn, but sometimes you liked to imagine the thought of getting close enough to learn. Everyone needs a shoulder to lean on, even wasteland-jaded priests. "So," Your words trailed off, eyes looking up at the stars above for anything, anything to keep you here in his presence, "Do you know anything about constellations?" "Nah, can't say I do. Do you?" "No." You shrugged, earning a teasing, low chuckle from him. It was a marvelous sound, something you could only package up and wrap it with a nice little bow to keep close to your heart. "Why'd you ask if I knew then?" He pushed his glasses further up his nose, lazily tilting his head to the side to look at you. And what a wonderful thing, being seen by Wolfwood when all you've gotten until now are fleeting glances and indirect side-eyes. At one point you started to think maybe it was deliberate, the way whenever your eyes met he would look away soon after, that perhaps you made him uncomfortable. The weight of his gaze made your cheeks heat, even if your body was cold, and hug your legs closer to your body. "I... dunno, I thought maybe you would so you could teach me a little." There was another short stretch of silence, butterflies anxiously fluttering in the pit of your stomach. "Y'know you can leave if you're cold, the fire's probably still going." If it was anyone else, you would take that as an indirect request for you to depart. Perhaps you'd even take the liberty with Wolfwood, but in this moment, you were selfish. He brought some sort of foreign comfort a fire and a moderately warm sleeping bag couldn't provide. "It's okay," You sighed wistfully, "Even with the fire and the sleeping bag, eventually it'll get too cold out. Just trying to acclimate myself sooner than later." You chuckled in good nature, but he didn't seem to find it as funny. "Heard sharing body heat helps." You nearly choked on your spit. Nearly. "'m sure needle noggin wouldn't mind helping you out. You two seem close." Ah, you got ahead of yourself. "He wouldn't mind because that's just the kind of person he is," You stated, matter-of-factly, barely catching the purse of his lips, "But... we aren't close like that. We're both dreamers, and without an anchor we'd just float away." All you got was a hum. "Plus... I think, even if there was some kind of... feeling there, I don't think he'd feel the same way. He's got enough of his own stuff going on, I don't think throwing a person into the mix would be a good idea for either party." Honestly, you hasn't realized how close you and Vash were gave off indication that there might be some kind of relationship potential. You were more than certain Meryl would have said something about it if that were the case, but perhaps you were wrong. "Didn't mean to make an assumption," Wolfwood muttered, hands plucking another cigarette out of his jacket pocket. You sighed, digging your heels into the ground as his lighter sparked up once again. "It's okay," You reassured, in the motion of standing up, "I'm gonna try heading to bed though." He grunted, his eyes sliding shut for just a moment. You used this to your advantage, snatching his cigarette from between his lips with a smirk as you stood. Maybe he didn't want you to say anything about it, but you weren't going to sit and idly watch as he chain-smoked himself into an early grave. This seemed to shock him more than anything, his hand swiping up to catch your wrist as he stood to his feet. You had managed to use some momentum to toss the now thoroughly crumpled cigarette, catching it in your other hand. As if you'd give up to him that easily, who did he take you for? All you heard was a growl, then a hollow metallic thud, and everything had happened so fast you didn't process that the noise was from your back hitting the mobile storage trailer. Your eyes were wide, mind reeling to process the precarious position the two of you were in. His hands each held a wrist, body boxing you in and enclosing you in a space that was just entirely Wolfwood. You were gazing up at him, only to be met with an equally bewildered expression. The both of you fell silent, only hearing the thump of your increasing heart rate pounding in your ears. He was close, too close, close enough that you could smell the smoke on his breath and the earthy scent emanating from his well-worn clothes. What felt like hours was probably more realistically a matter of seconds, but eventually you had gotten your wits about you to open your palm and display his much desired stolen item. Only then did he pull away, hands releasing your wrists to take a couple steps back. He cleared his throat, once again reaching in his pocket as if you hadn't just attempted to give back what started this scuffle in the first place. Swallowing, you took a step towards him, arm outstretched with the now snubbed cigarette in your palm. He said nothing, quickly taking it, placing it between his lips, and lighting it in silence. You were unsure if the moonlight was playing tricks on you, but you thought you could see pink dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. "U-Um–" You stuttered, hands coming together to pick at your nail beds nervously, "I'm–" "It's fine," He interrupted, and you couldn't help but admire him even now, even as he avoided tour gaze, even as he clenched his jaw in what you could only assume was annoyance, admire the steady slope of his nose and his sun-kissed skin and growing stubble. And, subsequently, noticing the smear of ash that ran from his jaw to the corner of his lips, most likely a result of you so bravely snatching what was quite literally a burning object from his mouth. If anyone were to ask you what you were doing, you wouldn't be able to tell them. If they asked you what you were thinking, you wouldn't answer, you couldn't answer, it was completely instinctual. Maybe it was because you were still so high off of the headrush he gave you, off of his scent and his gaze and his energy, you were much more bold. Either way, you didn't think, thumb coming up to swipe the expanse of grime tarnishing his otherwise flawlessly rugged appearance. Unlike before, everything moved in slow motion. The way he reached up to once again grab your wrist, the way his other hand snatched the cigarette between his lips and flicked it away, as he had done to the other. The way that same hand came up to cup your neck, his thumb cradling your jaw, all while he was stepping closer and leaning into your personal space. "Wolfw–" "Shut up," He breathed before his lips slotted against yours. There was no malice behind his words, but a surprising inkling of desperation. How soft he was surprised you. His touch, holding your neck in one hand and your waist in the other, how soft his lips were against yours, as if he was scared to press any further into you, scared he would hurt you or scared you would push him away. You didn't, though. You don't think you ever would. By the time you had come to your senses, he was already pulling away, brows furrowed and lips slightly parted, as if he was already looking to conjure up some kind of excuse as to why he had just done what he did. You didn't want an excuse though, you didn't want another reason to pull away, and the way your hands came up to grasp the front of his shirt and your eyes gazed into him must have gotten that point across. He pushed his sunglasses up onto his head and kissed you again, pulling your body closer to his, lips just a little less forgiving. This time you could feel the pent up desperation, the stress, the uncertainty, and then you could feel it all melt away. His rigid and tense muscles relaxed under your touch as your hands slid up his chest, onto his shoulders, eventually cradling both sides of his neck with your hands. Your thumbs stroked his jaw, the scratch of his stubble adding to the symphony of noises you held close to your heart that were just so Wolfwood. By the time you pulled back again, you could feel the heat on your cheeks, feel the droop of your half lidded eyes, feel your heart hammering in your chest as you panted desperately for air. You stood like this for a good while, eyes lazily blinking up at him in complete disbelief, before you chuckled, "It's... really cold out." Wolfwood continued to stare at you, eyes glancing back down at your lips, and even if he began to lean in again, he didn't have the courage to see it through for a third time. "Then let's get you to bed." He lead the way, completely detaching from you with his hands shoved in his pockets. Part of you wondered if this would ever be spoken about again, was it all just a moment of passion and weakness? Did you both just desperately need something, and now you were unable to shoulder the weight of your decisions? Your mind came to a grinding halt the second he stood above your sleeping bag, gesturing to it vaguely. The fire was nothing but weak embers by this point and would do absolutely no good shielding you from the bitter cold that awaited you further into the night. "Is... Earlier, you said–" You began to whisper, pausing when you noticed Vash shift in his own sleeping bag. You swallowed, eyes downcast as you pointed to Wolfwood, then yourself, then the sleeping bag. You glanced up in time to catch him biting the inside of his cheek, before ultimately nodding and following you in and under the covers. There definitely wasn't enough comfortable space to fit two people, and it took a couple minutes of awkward shifting and repositioning to finally settle on laying on your sides, your back to his front. You had to hand it to him, it was warmer than if you were just by yourself. Forcing your eyes closed, you took a deep breath, trying to will yourself to calm down enough to actually get in some shuteye. That all went out the window the second his hand came up to rest on your hip, then slowly slide down so his arm was holding you back against him. "Wolfwood..." You whispered, barely a word at all in fear that you would wake up your nearly sleeping companion. ".... Nicholas." "Wh... what?" "Call me Nicholas." It was as if your heart grew wings and flown up into your throat, and you didn't know why, because this was something as simple as being on a first name basis, but it was the moment of vulnerability that he displayed that pushed you close to tears. Somehow finding the space, you rolled over, now face to face with the man of your affections. He didn't seem fazed in the slightest, but his furrowed brow gave him away, as did the quick flicker of his eyes, bouncing from one feature to the next, before settling on your eyes. "Nick," You couldn't stifle your grin if you tried, not with how the deep crimson crept up his neck and the tips of his ears, "Will you stay with me tonight?" He scoffed, as if it were a ridiculous question in the first place, eyes sliding shut. "Yeah. I'll stay." "Nick?" "Mmh." "Can we maybe talk a bit more about... this tomorrow?" He didn't answer you, not verbally at least, but if the way his arm tightened around your waist spoke for him, you could only assume that was a yeah, sure. You smiled, craning your neck up to place a chaste peck against his lips. You caught the stutter in his breathing, and the shift in his expression, before you closed your own eyes to welcome the warm embrace of sleep. Maybe you wouldn't know what the morning ahead of you would bring, but you knew that being right here, right now, with Wolfwood holding you so close, like he needed you... you could accept whatever challenges came your way.
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fruitsoxs · 9 months
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I don't know how comfortable you are with voyeurism but the thought of Vash secretly watching reader get fucked by Wolfwood is hot.
so- uh- yeah...
PART 2
pairing; vash x (GN AFAB)reader x wolfwood warnings; smut, !NSFW MINORS DNI! , voyeurism, choking, hair pulling, uhhh wolfwood is a bit rough notes; this got out of hand at the end- im so sorry (or you're welcome) spoiler; wolfwood knows the entire time
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He shouldn’t be watching this.
Vash’s eyes are wide as he peaks around the corner. His face is a deep shade of red. He really shouldn’t be watching this. He can’t help it though. Each slap of skin brings out the sweetest sound moans from your pretty lips. How are you able to make such angelic noises  while doing such a dirty act? Vash will never know. He feels his body shake as he watches Wolfwood grab your legs and push them back, slamming deeper into you.
The door had been unlocked. 
He was fully prepared to walk into the room and witness Wolfwood passed out like normal. Instead he had walked in on the man holding a person down against the mattress, fucking the life out of them. So into it, they didn’t even notice the door opening as Vash walked inside.His eyes widened at the scene, and he was fully prepared to high tail it out of there until he heard your voice call out in such a sweet way.
“Wolfwood~” You had cried. The man’s name falling from your lips like you had said it many times before. Had you? Vash had been a little too focused on other things to really notice how close the two of you had gotten. His mind elsewhere as the person he loved slowly bonded with the man he considered his best friend.It should hurt him, seeing such a scene, but there is no jealousy in his gut as he watches Wolfwood ram his dick inside of you. 
“O-Oh. Oh. God!” You yell, throwing your head back as Wolfwood picks up his pace. His tan skin is slick with sweat, and he’s got this tiny smirk on his lips. “Is God the one fucking you Angel?” The man asks, slowing down. 
“N-No.” you answer, your voice so weak. “Who is?” “You.”
Wolfwood grunts and grabs your face, forcing your eyes back on him. “Then keep that name out of your mouth, and keep your eyes on me.” he commands. You let out a soft whine and nod. His hands move from your cheeks down to your throat. Vash’s throat goes dry. He really shouldn’t be watching this. It would be so easy to leave. To turn around and exit the room, but he’s stuck. His hands shake slightly at his sides as he feels the warmth travel down to his cock. He’s hard. He’s so hard he has to shove his hand down his pants to shift it around.
Vash bites his lip as he watches your eyes flicker open and closed. Your lips are parted, and he can tell you’re close. So can Wolfwood, as his pace picks up again. His dark eyes narrow as he tightens his hand around your neck. You let out a choked moan and try desperately to warn him, but the man doesn’t let go. Not until you’re cumming around his cock. “Fuck. Good. What a good little Angel you are.” Wolfwood praises you, letting his hand drop so you can breathe better. He doesn’t stop though. Vash is suddenly reminded how much stamina his friend has. The two of you could be at this for awhile
His mind starts to drift and he presses the palm of his hand against his hard on. You left the door unlocked, and are fucking in the room him and wolfwood were supposed to share? And with how intensely Wolfwood is fucking you, it seemslike you weren’t planning on having a random quickie. It’s almost like you two wanted to be caught but- Ah. He shouldn’t think like that. That’s so..gross.
And yet his hand is stroking himself inside of his pants.
You let out a gasp, as Wolfwood pulls out and spins you around, pushing your head into the pillow on the end of the bed. He grabs your hips and lines himself up again before slamming his cock inside of you. You scream out, muffled by the pillow as Wolfwood starts at his unrelenting pace again. He keeps his hands on your hips, digging his fingernails into the soft skin. 
Wolfwood is rough when he fucks you, and you seem to like it. He picks up his hand and slaps it against your plump ass. Vash has to hold himself back from moaning by digging his teeth into his bottom lip. Why is this so…hot? Vash’s pupils dilate and he finds himself wishing he could crawl over and join in. He wants to lift your head up by your hair, and shove his cock into your mouth ans Wolfwood fucks you from behind.
He hisses out as his hand strokes himself faster and faster. The noises you’re making are so pretty- It’s unfair. He wishes he could help in drawing them out of you. He wants to make you scream his name too. If he could, he’d make you say both of their names over and over again. The thought makes his hand jerk a bit, letting out a warm breath as he presses his back to the door. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He’s watching.
Wolfwood slows down, and reaches over to grab a handful of your hair, lifting your head up. “You’re being so loud, angel.” he murmurs. “What if someone hears us? What if someone hears you screaming my name.” He slams against your cunt. “Oh Wolfwood!” you yell as he does it. He smirks and pulls your hair again. “What if Blondie hears us.” he asks and you moan even louder.
Vash’s eyes widen and he pauses his movements for only a second, before his grip becomes tighter and his strokes become faster. Him? Why would you like that?
“That’s right.” wolfwood grunts and slams into you again. “You want him to hear us don’t yah angel? You want that needle-noggin to walk in on us fucking huh?” he asks you. Vash is not sure if he can handle this any longer. Especially with how loudly you seem to mewl at just the thought of him walking in on you. “Hah. yeah. I see the way you look at him. Maybe I should ask him to join us?” Wolfwood lets go of your hair and goes back to digging his nails into your hips. His movements are a bit sporadic. He must be getting close. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Let Vash and I fuck you like the slut you are?” 
There’s an almost wolfish smile playing on Wolfwood’s lips, and Vash can’t stop his heart from beating. Would you like that? Is what he’s saying true? Vash lets out a small whimper, and Wolfwood’s smile grows. “Why don’t you say his name, angel? Call out for him.” Wolfwood commands
And then from your lips comes the softest, most beautiful little “Vash~” Vash finds himself covered in his own cum instantly, his hips jerking up into his hand. At the same time, you scream out as Wolfwood pumps his cum inside of you. Wolfwood holds you down as he thrusts deep within you, moaning out until he’s empty. You ride out your own orgasm, all but collapsing from the intensity.  
Vash is unsure what to do when Wolfwood looks over at him, that smirk still on his lips.
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meguwumibear · 3 months
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wc: 3k and contains: Vash walks in on Nico and female!reader having sex and is invited to join. piv sex, tit play, some instructional fingering, cum eating, virgin!vash, light angst re: Vash's scars...happy to add warnings as requested but i don't believe it needs any unless threesomes aren't your thing!
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There are…noises coming from inside Vash’s apartment. Not the usual sound of tv commercials or Spotify ads—ads that he hears quite often since Nicholas refuses to just pay for premium—but the sound of something throatier, something base and primal.
A pair of guttural grunts and groans fill the air, one deep and masculine, the other lighter and almost feminine in nature. They compliment each other, so in sync it’s like it’s been rehearsed. A symphony of unrestrained ‘oo’s and ‘ah’s and the occasion ‘fuck’ seep out from under the doorway and worm themselves into Vash’s brain, imbedding themselves so deep he doesn’t even realize he’s slipping his keys into the lock until it’s too late.
The sight before him gives him pause. Okay, sure, he could probably guess from the needy whines and desperate cooing that Nicholas was having sex, but hearing his roommate fuck and seeing his roommate fuck are two entirely two different things.
Shirts and pants and underwear—his and yours—litter the floor, like crumbs meant to lore an ant. The two of you hadn’t even made it to the bedroom. Nicholas has you shameless pressed against their shared sofa. A sofa that Nai and Meryl and Milly sometimes crash on when they’re in town.
The violation of the shared space should bother Vash more, but all he seems able to focus on right now is the wonder that is Nicholas D. Wolfwood’s bare ass. Plump and round and firm. Not quite as dark as the rest of him, but still a beautiful, tan color. So muscular it barely even jiggles as he pounds away at your pussy.   
It’s you who sees him first as you angle your head back to nibble at Nicholas’s shoulder. Your eyes widen in surprise as they catch sight of him. He figures he should probably leave or apologize or do literally anything other than stand there like a stupid fucking statue, but that’s all his treacherous body seems capable of at the minute.
“Nicooo,” you whine—and, hang on a minute…Nico? Nico?!—“ugh, fuck, you didn’t tell me you had such a pretty roommate.”
You blink at Vash through long, thick lashes, eyes wide and inviting. If his best friend and roommate wasn’t already balls deep inside you, he might think you were trying to seduce him.
“Fuck,” Nico grunts as he continues to slam into you, hips smacking loudly against your ass. Vash’s presence has apparently had little to no effect on either of your libidos, “little bugger’s supposed to be at his brother’s this weekend. Guess he came back early.”
Neither of your movements halt, but you’re both looking at him now. He can feel his cheeks heat with what he tells himself is embarrassment. The flush creeps along his whole face, all the way to the tips of his ears which he imagines are as red as his favorite jacket by now.
He isn’t sure what to do with himself. Can’t figure out where to look. Anywhere other than at the two of you would probably be a good place to start, but he just can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Nico’s heavy, swinging balls, or the little sneak peak he can see of Nico’s thick cock pistoning in and out of your quivering hole.
There’s a heat pooling in his belly now, stronger even than that of his cheeks. He’s so sexually inexperienced it takes him a minute to understand what’s happening to him. Watching and listening to the two of you fuck has his dick half hard.
He shifts his weight a bit from foot to foot, pondering how to best handle this. It isn’t too late for him to turn around and leave. He can always apologize to Nico later. He’s not usually the kind of guy to hold a grudge. He grew up Catholic or some shit, so his people are all about forgiveness.
“Oi,” you shout, snapping him out of his stupor, “you just gonna stand there all night wondering at your semi, or are you gonna make yourself useful and join us? I got more than one hole you know. Nico’s only occupying one of ‘em.”
“Shit,” Nico swears, his thrusts unsteady, “keep milking me like that and I’m gonna blow before the brat even gets the chance to whip it out.”
Vash sucks in a breath so quickly he chokes on it. Fuck, he can barely think let alone breathe with the two of you staring at him like that. He still has half a mind to bolt and slam the door behind him, but the other, more pertinent half of him can’t stop wondering what Nico’s cock would taste like now that it’s all covered in your slick.
“Think he needs some more convincing, baby,” Nico says, maneuvering the two of you so that he’s now seated on the sofa with his chest pressed against your back. The two of you didn’t break stride once during the switcheroo, which does give Vash some pause. There’s no possible way he could join the two of you; you’re way out of his league.
“Still watching, Vash?” Nico asks, roughly palming at your tits. “You can touch her you know. She wants you to. Her pussy gripped me so fucking hard when she caught sight of you. Who knew I snagged such a dirty little exhibitionist?”
Vash watches Nico pinch and pull at your already swollen nipples with rapt curiosity. It’s shameless the way you arch your back, encouraging him to pluck and prod at you. He wonders if this is all a performance for his benefit or if you really do enjoy having your nipples tweaked like that.
“Vashhh,” you keen, “c’mere, pretty boy. Wanna know that the mouth feels like wrapped around my teat.”
Vash no longer cares if you’re acting or not; an invitation is an invitation, and he’s dying to do the very thing you’ve just goaded him to.
He makes his way to you slowly, like he’s still not sure about the whole thing. He figures there’s no need for his hesitation; you clearly don’t startle easy. But he’s nervous damn it! Watching Nico paw at you has his dick standing at full attention. It bulges uncomfortably against the cotton of his boxers, restricted and aching and already starting to leak.
“Atta boy,” you coo encouragingly as he drops to his knees. Vash is taller than the average man, so even kneeling like this he’s eye level with your perfect tits.
“C’mon, baby,” you whine, reaching out to grab his hair and deciding against it. You must be waiting for him to make a move.
His touch is gentler than Nico’s, soft and curious as he glides the smooth pad of his thumb across your puckering areolas. Your reaction is immediate and seemingly genuine. A shiver skitters down your spine, and at this distance he can see the way you tighten around the base of his friend’s cock.
“Like that?” he asks just to confirm.
“Yeah, baby, just like that,” you smile.
“Tch,” Nico grumbles from behind you, “you don’t gotta be so fucking gentle. She’s not gonna break.”
Vash frowns, rolling your swollen bud between two fingers, “what if I wanna be gentle?”
You seem to like it anyway. His eyes are glued to your pussy and its puffy lips, mesmerized by the way it flutters around Nico’s impressive length as he works your nipples. He squeezes and you clench. He releases and you relax.
“Suck, Vash,” you moan, “Suck, Vash. Please. Please.”
Who is he to deny you? Vash hasn’t sucked a tit since he was still in diapers and breastfeeding, but he figures you never really lose the instinct. He wraps his lips around you, careful of his teeth and begins to tenderly suckle on your left breast. You throw your head back and moan so loudly he’s sure even the neighbors can hear you now.
His still clothed crotch is pressed against your leg. He’s been absentmindedly humping it ever since he dropped down before you, but his thrusts are purposeful now. It takes him time to find a rhythm that he likes. It’s tricky, balancing his own pleasure with yours, but he wants to make sure this is as good for you as it is him. When you realize what he’s doing, you shift your leg encouragingly, coaxing him to grind against it.
“Such a good boy,” Nico laughs.
“Like a bitch in heat,” you return, twisting your fingers through his hair, blunt nails biting into the skin of his scalp.
You use the hair you’ve gathered to yank him off your tit and slot his lips against yours. He has to rise a bit to reach you, and when he settles again it’s over your thigh which feels somehow even better than your leg.
He licks into your mouth experimentally and you kiss back with enthusiasm, running your tongue along the tips of his teeth, the roof of his mouth, anywhere the muscle can reach. He tries to mirror your actions, but they’re foreign to him. He swirls his tongue around your own a few times in practice.
When he pulls away, your lips are red and plump from the friction, a thread of translucent spit connects the two of you. He leans back and back and back until the thin thread snaps completely and what’s left of the liquid dribbles messily down your chins.
“Nico,” he whines as he grabs at Nico’s hair. He isn’t as coordinated as the two of you, but he manages to pull Nico into a deep, heated kiss. Nico smiles into the kiss, wrapping his large palm around the back of Vash’s neck to push him impossibly closer.
The moment Nico’s fingers graze the back of Vash’s neck he’s cumming. Hot, thick ropes of cum shoot out of him, soaking his underwear and likely seeping through the denim of his jeans as well. He ruts himself through the orgasm, using your leg as a toy to get off while he wantonly moans into his roommate’s open mouth.
When he finally pulls away from Nico, you’re grinning at him.
“Did our cute little virgin cream his pants?” you tut, but there’s no real bite to it. Not while you’re on the verge of cumming yourself, hole creamy and brimming with an off-white mix of your arousal and Nico’s pre.
You wind your fingers into his shirt as if to rid him of it, and he pulls back so violently he falls from your lap, hitting the hard ground with a deafening thud.
He’s absolutely mortified. If it were physically possible for his face to get any redder it would, but luckily, he hit max redness while he came all over himself.
When he dares to look back and you and Nico, the two of you have stopped fucking. It’s the first time all night the two of you have called it quits. Nico’s still balls deep inside you, but neither his focus nor yours is on that.
He’s the only one still wearing clothes, but he feels bare before you. Clumsy and stupid, like the awkward man child Nai always accuses him of being. He’s ruined both your nights in one, dumbass move. He feels so bad he could cry. In fact, he can feel warm, wet tears beginning to pool in the corner of his eyes.
“Sorry!” he manages. “I’m sorry. I just, uh, well I’ve got some pretty gnarly scars is all. Didn’t want to kill the mood.” He rubs soothingly at the back of his neck, taking deep breaths as he wills the tears threatening to spill away.
“Vash-” Nico starts, but Vash cuts him off again.
“Sorry! I’m so sorry. Ha, I, uh, I’ve never done anything like this before. It was super nice of you guys to include me. Didn’t mean to fuck it up. Anyway, I really did cream my pants lol, so the two of you should go ahead and finish. It’s only fair.”
You exchange a look with Nico he can’t decipher before saying, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have assumed anything. I’ll ask next time before trying something.”
Fuck, now your apologizing?
“Oh, no, it’s fine. Really! It’s okay. I don’t need you to apologize. Sex is kind of a clothes off activity. It’s a pretty fair assumption. I don’t mind watching you guys finish if you’re okay with me staying. I’d, uh, I’d like to learn actually.”
You turn back to exchange another undecipherable look with Nico.
“Christ,” Nico swears, “have you always been this cute?” The question must be rhetorical because he’s adding, “C’mere then, pretty boy. Let me show you how to make a woman cum.”
“What about you?” you and Vash ask in tandem.
“Already did,” he smirks. “Twice.”
As if to prove it he quickly slips out of you and without his cock to keep you all plugged up ropes of silky, white cum gush out of your pussy, painting your pretty lips and even slicking up the puckering hole of your ass.
“She’s definitely close,” Nico says, pushing his spend back inside you with two thick fingers. “But I’ve been neglecting her poor little clit.” He flicks your swollen nub for emphasis and you immediately cry out.
“Hush,” Nico coos, “I’m gonna get you there, sweetheart. Just wanna make sure he’s watching. Don’t be selfish now, you’ve been so good for me all night.”
He sneaks an assessing look at Vash whose eyes haven’t once left the two of you.
“Most women can’t cum from penetration alone,” he says when he’s certain Vash is watching, and really, it’s not like Vash was going to turn down his roommate’s generous offer. “You gotta stimulate them here too. Different women are going to like different speeds and shit, but once you get a feel for woman it isn’t too hard to read them.”
He’s circling the edge of your swollen clit with his thumb, not quite touching the throbbing thing yet. He teases the skin around it, playing with the mix of liquids gathered there.
“Best to make sure you're lubed up when you touch her. Clits are sensitive. They like the lubrication. I’m using my cum and her juices, but spit works too if you haven’t got her off yet.”
He’s thumbing at the bud now, slow and teasing, as if he wants to see just how long he can keep you teetering on the cruel edge of pleasure and pain.
“There are toys you can use to help you out, but we’ll save that demo for another night.”
Your body visibly jerks as Nico begins to pick up the pace.
“She’s sensitive even though she hasn’t cum. It happens sometimes. Especially after a cream pie’s been bullied into them. Penetrative sex is pleasurable for women, despite the fact they can’t usually get off on it alone. It’s even better for them when they’re with a man who knows how to hit all the right spots.”
“Nicooo,” you whine. “Please. Wanna cum. Wanna cum so bad.”
“Yeah, princess?” he hums. “Wanna cum all over my fingers? Wanna ruin this fucking couch? It was expensive you know. Might have to pitch in and help us buy another.”
“Anything. Anything,” you cry, clear, crystalline tears streaming down your face. “Fuck, Nico, ‘m so empty. I need, ah, I need-”
“I know what you need, baby,” he says, stuffing two fingers back inside you and curling them against the sensitive flesh of your walls.
He’s able to hit the exact spot you need him to, and the motion along with the circles he’s drawing into your clit has you cumming so hard you see stars, nails biting so harshly into the skin of his thighs you draw tiny beads of blood.
He fingers you through the orgasm, fingers unrelenting until he has you screaming and squirting around them.
When your orgasm finally ebbs he shoves the two cum covered fingers into your mouth and you obediently began to suck on them as he orders you to clean up your mess, savoring the salty taste of both your releases.
He slips some of the cum into his own mouth too, and into Vash’s when the nerd finally works up the balls to ask. He doesn’t stop shoveling cum into your mouths until he’s certain there’s absolutely no cum left to swallow.
It’s Vash who suggests a shower. Nico calls dibs but you run in there after him, still a ball of energy despite the orgasm.
Vash contemplates waiting until the two of you have finished to wash up, but his living room feels oddly lonely without the two of you in it. Plus, the drying, flaking cum in his own pants is starting to itch.
The door to the bathroom isn’t closed, but he enters meekly, head down, eyes averted, like a dog with a tail between his legs.
He takes his time undressing. Peeling his shirt off first followed by his jeans and ruined boxers. His back is to the mirror as he undresses. If he sees he’ll chicken out. If he sees he’ll just slink back to the quiet of his room, trying and failing to block out the soothing sounds of you and Nico.
There’s laughter from the shower. Yours and his. The curtains they have are thin, dainty things, and he can tell the two of you are wrestling over the shampoo bottle. If he doesn’t get in now, he’ll lose his nerve, so he rips the tattered curtain open and slides in wordlessly behind you.
The water is mercifully warm against his back. He stares at the way it swirls around your toes. Fizzy white suds circle the rusted drain, probably from the open shampoo bottle the two of you keep fighting for control of.
“Glad you joined us, pretty boy,” you say. When he manages to look at you, your eyes meet his. They aren’t prying or judgmental. They don’t roam along his patchy skin. “Nico’s hogging the shampoo, but he’s got a soft spot for ya. Bet I could convince him to let me wash your hair.”
“Tch, as if,” Nico tuts, shoving you aside. “You’re too small, squirt. I’ll help him with his hair.”
When the three of you are finished washing up, Vash is the first to leave the bathroom, towel wrapped tightly around his waist. The fabric doesn’t cover much since most of the damage is on his chest and back. He somehow feels less self-conscious now. Maybe because you’d pointed out he’d seen so far up your pussy he knows the color of your cervix.
Of all the girls Nico’s brought home, you’re his favorite. None of the others have ever bothered with him before.
He comes back to the room fully dressed with a pair of his boxers and an oversized t-shirt clutched to his chest. He holds them out for you, struggling to maintain eye contact.
“For me?” you ask, eyebrow quirked in genuine surprise.
He nods, “Yeah, for you. The clothes you came in didn’t look very comfortable. Figured these would work as pajamas.”
You exchange a look with Nico. It’s another look he can’t fucking comprehend. He doesn’t understand how the two of you managed to develop a language of your own so quickly. You’ve only known each other a few hours.
“Pajamas?” you ask, as if you’re unfamiliar with the concept.
“Yeah, it’s like 3am. You’re spending the night, right?”
You hesitate for a moment more before grabbing the clothes from him with a smile. “Not on that sofa I’m not. Which one of you boys wanna cuddle with me tonight. Or am I getting a room to myself while the two of you spoon?”
“You can sleep with me!” Vash offers immediately. “I’ve got the space.
“Tch, for the three of us I hope,” Nice says. “There’s no way I’m missing out on cuddles.”
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blondeboyfriend · 1 year
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𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈
[ PAIRING ] Wolfwood x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] Yes, this is a repost. Yes, I didn't write this my brain. [ SYNOPSIS ] idk you fuck your best friend's brother. I truly didn't think that hard about any of this. [ WORD COUNT ] like 1k [ CONTENT ] Porn without a stitch of plot, you're besties with your roommate, vaginal sex, "just the tip", he hits it from the back (ayyy), dubcon (drunk sex), alcohol, overstimulation, pet names (girlie, baby), barely edited, and nothing about this is serious like in the least.
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You alwaaaaaaaaays thought your best friend’s older brother was cute in a fucked up kind of way. He was tall, legs toned and long, and broad shouldered. His clothes were always disheveled in some way: pants that were too short and revealed his ankles, shirts with several buttons undone that showed off his chest. His black hair was always in a state of perfect disarray. He wore dark sunglasses all the time and chain smoked.
But the biggest appeal was that he was a seminarian. A priest-in-training. You assumed those types were stuffy, good boys that went to bed sober every night.
Nicholas, however, was anything but that. You wouldn’t say he was an alcoholic, but he felt no guilt when it came to imbibing. Anytime he stopped by he brought a bottle of dark rum and made you play drinking games. When your friend would go to bed, you would jokingly confess to a multitude of sins of varying severity.
And you alwaaaaaaaaays wanted something more to happen, but getting caught by your friend deterred you. She already thought her brother was a bit of a loser and she would have judged you endlessly for having poor taste.
She loved him of course; she simply didn’t hold him in high regard. His existence was too contradictory, the juxtaposition too much to reconcile. He was a lout of the first degree, but also was relatively pious and devoted to his studies.
Your friend wanted more for you (not her weird, religious brother). And as long as she was around you could fight off your desires with zero issues.
That’s why you were set up for failure the night he stopped by without warning. Your friend wasn’t home and your fantasy started to feel more tangible. Everything was falling into place; this was the perfect opportunity to indulge in your crush.
You scurried around in search of something slutty yet comfortable to wear which ended up being a pair of booty shorts, a cropped sweatshirt, and absolutely nothing underneath. You knew if you stretched your arms over your head he’d get a tantalizing view of your breasts.
You opened the door and told him that his sister wasn’t home, batting your lashes. He smirked and asked if you were doing anything, his voice like honey, endlessly beguiling. You invited him in.
“You tryna have some fun?” he asked with an impish grin. He held up a bottle of Bacardi.
“Hell yeah. Let me grab some shot glasses.”
You strutted to the kitchen with a little spring in your step. You looked over your shoulder to make sure your guest was following. His eyes were firmly pointed at your ass, noticing how the cheeks poked out from the bottom of your shorts. The swing in your hips successfully hypnotized him, pulling him deeper into your clutches. You were going to make this night count.
He took a seat at the table and watched as you grabbed two glasses from the highest shelf. He smirked as your sweater rode up, revealing the plush underside of your tits. You pretended not to notice.
“Shall we?” you asked, handing him a shot glass.
The two of you took shot after shot, rarely speaking to one another. You didn’t need words. A smoldering glance, a flirty wink, said it all.
“You got a drinkin’ problem, girlie,” Nicholas finally said, pointing at the nearly empty bottle of rum.
“You drank just as much!” you laughed, elbowing him.
“I’m shouldering the weight of God’s words. What’s your excuse?”
“I’m trying to get the courage to fuck a priest-in-training obviously.”
He cocked an eyebrow and genuinely seemed surprised by your bold initiative.
“Nah. My sister’ll kill me… And you too probably.”
“She will never know,” you purred, grabbing a hold of his hands and leading him to your bedroom.
You undressed immediately, tossing your clothes at him. You got on the bed on your hands and knees, and arched your back. You gave him the perfect view of your glistening cunt. You heard Nicholas fiddling with his belt and dropping it on the floor. He positioned himself behind you, rubbing the tip of his cock along your dripping folds.
“I’m only puttin’ the tip in, alright?” he said, flicking his lighter. You immediately smelt the acrid smoke of his cigarette. “I don’t need you fallin’ in love with me.”
He guided his cock into your cunt, stopping halfway, and began to massage your clit with his free hand. The pads of his fingers were soft and warm. 
“I want all of it,” you whined pathetically.
You craned your neck back and pouted at him. His cheeks were pink, jaw clenched. He was a man in trouble, a man weighing his options. He took a drag off his cigarette and put it out in the cup of water sitting on your nightstand.
“Alright. You want my cock that bad, huh?” he asked, playing with your aching clit.
“Yes!”
He sank his cock inside you and he let out the most heavenly moan. It was thick, stretching out your cunt in a euphoric way. His thrusts were fast and deep, with an air of desperation to them. He kept his fingers firmly placed on your clit, furiously rubbing it. It was almost too heavy a burden to bear. You felt like you were going to collapse under the weight of your ardor.
“To—too much,” you choked out.
“Nah. Lemme show what too much really is, baby.”
He pinched your clit between his fingers and you yelped. It was already so sensitive, the pressure he was applying was dizzying. You struggled to hold yourself up and buried your face into your pillow. He was right. This was too much. But you loved it.
Nicholas chuckled and slammed his cock into you. His thrusts were relentless. Each one was punctuated with one of your dreamy moans. You were seeing stars, ascending into the arms of God, or something… you didn’t fucking know. Your brain was leaking out of your ears. And it didn’t matter; it served no purpose. All you needed was his cock throbbing in your slick cunt.
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heich0e · 8 months
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BOUND - VASH/F!READER/WOLFWOOD (TRIGUN) - SERIES MASTERLIST tags: f/m/m poly!au, this is an equilateral triangle of a relationship, bounty hunter!au, wild west(ish?)!au, fluff, smut, light angst, reader practices medicine, frequent use of 'kid' as a petname, gratuitous depictions of a shabby western homestead (alexa play home on the range), please read the tags on each part for appropriate warnings <3 MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT - 18+
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this series is written NON-CHRONOLOGICALLY and this masterlist is organized by order of posting—feel free to refer to the timeline above (updated as new parts are added) for a sequential outline of the plot, if you'd like to read it that way!
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i. bounty - 1k - fluff ⋯ a tense, late-night homecoming as vash and nicholas return to you following a bad hunt.
ii. bliss - 3k - immediate follow up to bounty - MDNI ⋯ nicholas enjoys his favourite meal upon returning home, just the way he likes it.
iii. bright - 2k - set in the days following bounty and bliss - fluff ⋯ in the wake of their unsuccessful hunt, you and nicholas contemplate how best to make ends meet.
iv. begin - 8k - prequel ⋯ nicholas shows up in The Bend for a job, and gets a little more than he bargained for—specifically someone called "mama" whose porch he shows up on in the middle of the night with a bullet hole to patch.
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