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skelebellie · 1 year

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affections towards reader

nb!reader x meryl, vash, wolfwood, and knives

NSFW headcannons involved, minors do not interact.

(nsfw is in red, if you’d like to skip it)

this is my first time writing smut lol. if you’ve got any constructive criticism please let me know.

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meryl

meryl loves physical touch. she will constantly hold your hand in public, and if your not walking then she will sit close enough to have your legs touching. if your comfortable enough then she will make the excuse of “needing to save money” in order to share a bed with you. it intentions are never sexual, just in the loving nature that she feels most safe wrapped in your arms.

she loves to offer her thighs for those short naps. she knows she isn’t the most well endowed but you knock out moments within laying down.

meryl also likes to show her love though acts of service. she might take over some of your work to lessen the burden on you. maybe she might clean your clothes after a rough day through a sandstorm, making sure to part out all the sand prior.

she’s the opposite in bed. she’s an absolute pillow princess, her back arched as her thighs pressed against your head as you eat her out for hours. your just trying to show your appreciation for her, you know?

being in bed with her is something sacred to her. its a moment of absolute intimacy and she wants to spend every part of it clawing and grasping your body, each shock of pleasure causes her to pine at you. you never leave the bed without a scatter of marks and hickies.

vash

this man is the biggest trinket collector in the entire world, and you are not safe from him. if he sees something that reminds you of him, its his. you have an endless collection of keychains gathering on your bag. “but it was so cute!! just like you!!!” its so hard to resist when hes giving you puppy dog eyes.

if he notices a hole in your gear or clothes, you’ll come back from a day of odd jobs to find something new on your bed, neatly folded and a small note laid on top of it. “i saw you needed new gear. dont pay me back :) “. if its something you have an emotional attachment too, he will wait for the perfect moment to snatch it from you. you will receive it back with an added patch, the color being practically identical. even if it means late nights and expensive prices, he will do anything to get it back to its original shape.

no one is safe from his nuzzling. if your really nervous or scared, he will rub his head against your head (or any available body part). when he pulls back his hair is messy and tussled in every direction. you think its a plant thing.

in bed vash is a man who dominates the “act of service” category. his whole goal while having sex is making you feel good, your pleasure is his and every moan you makes brings him closer and closer to orgasm. if hes having a rough day all he wants is to eat you out/suck you off for hours on end. if he had to spend the rest of life with his head between your thighs than he would willingly do so.

of course, mans is a switch. some days he craves your control, riding him as you hold his wrists together, preventing him from touching you. in times like this he doesn’t have to worry about the outside world, only how tight you are and your moans. on the flip side, he wants to pound you so hard you forget about whatever troubles may come. he wants to be the only thing you can focus on, you teary eyes unable to pull apart from his face as his hands roam your body, unable to separate himself from you for just a moment.

since hes so clingy, hes an enjoyer of cock warming. he feels amazing connected to you, and he loves to monitor you face to see how much more the both of you can take.

wolfwood

words of affirmation got this man redder than the two suns above gun smoke. and in turn, he loves to support you verbally. “you did great out there”, “we couldn’t have done it without you”, “your my everything”. on top of that, if you feel insecure or anxious about yourself be ready to hear wolfwood list off the 1000 reasons why he loves every part of you. don’t feel like your inconveniencing him, he would willingly tell the entire planet if you let him.

wolfwood loves physical touch, especially your body. his touch is much more intimate, but not necessarily sexual. he will spend car rides with you in his lap or his arm wrapped around your waist, him pulling you into his side. if you let him wander he will start kneading your love handles or the fat of your stomach. you cant go anywhere without this man giving a surprise ass grab. your his personal stress ball.

if you’ve got a muscular or skinny body, hes tracing patterns into your skin or letting his nails glide against you, sometimes causing you to giggle.

he also loves to hear you rant about things than interest you. he would spend hours listening to you rant about some new invention or fixation. it warms his heart to see you so fascinated with something. that glimmer of excitement in your eyes gets his heart pumping.

speaking of physical touch, wolfwood is a man dedicated to the act, especially in bed. he will keep edging himself over and over again because he just doesn’t want it to end. he doesn’t mind you cumming, in fact the more fucked out you look, eyes rolled in pleasure, the more he just wants to make the moment last. he will go a tantalizingly slow pace until your vocal enough to beg him for more.

wolfwood likes a bush. i said what i said.

fave position is you on your side, it gives him enough support to grab at you whenever he wants. when he cums hes got a death grip on you. your the only thinking grounding him from the amount of pleasure you give him.

knives (million knives/nai)

whether or not this emotionally constipated man realizes it, hes got a love language.

he craves quality time, whether that comes from a need to have you near him 24/7 in order to protect you, or that his mind races every time you leave, is none of his concern. he just feels more at peace with you by his side, or at most, with you in his line of sight.

he discovered he really likes bathing with you, its a moment of non-sexual intimacy he looks forward too. he take pride in cleaning every part of you to make sure you are his “perfect partner”, using only the highest quality in JuLai on your skin. the first time it happened he just kind of walked in on you, eyes affixed to your body as you missed a spot. “your not doing it right”, he muttered before stripping and getting in with you. he can always tell where to massage your body if you’ve got a particularly sore muscle.

he always wants you sitting in his meetings with conrad. even when conrad was initially against it. he wants you to see the paradise hes working for, how far hes willing to go for you to live in a perfect world molded just for you and his brotheren.

sex though? oh hes a physical man through and through. as much as he tries to be gentle with you and your human body, he cant help but fold you over in order to get a view of your pleasure ridden face. his thumb resting in your mouth so the only thing your full of is him.

its only natural for you to be under him, as much as he tries to involve you as an equal at work, he knows the perfect place for you is under him and worshipping the love he gives you. and the best time for that is sex.

hes got an obsession with cumming in you. having a part of him inside you makes you so much closer to him, much better than all the other lowly humans. he will keep cumming inside of you until you simply can’t hold anymore. it gets him hard knowing how much your filled of him, both physically and emotionally.

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tenabrye · 1 year

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Sleepy time / cuddle headcanons for vash and nick? How they sleep with their s/o and without and how they cuddle and what positions they sleep / cuddle in?

Hope this wasn’t requested already! Ya boys need some sleep!

I would give anything for a night of cuddles with either one of them. Or both. :)

Vash

Big spoon, little spoon, it doesn't matter to him. He just wants to be near you when it's time to turn in for the night. If you want to be the big spoon and hold him during the night, go right ahead. He will love every second of it. If you want him to be the big spoon instead, he's game. He'll hold you close to his chest all night.

His favorite positions include you lying on his chest with his arm around your waist, lying on your sides with you both facing one another and holding each other close, or spooning one another. He claims all positions are his favorite, but he really loves it when you lay on his chest. It comforts him knowing you're so close to him and that he can keep you safe this way.

He snores a little, but ONLY when fully comfortable or if he's had a serious lack of sleep. Vash's snores are soft, adorable, and they are definitely something that lulls people to sleep. Vash is the type who waits for you to fall asleep before he even sleeps, however, sometimes that doesn't happen, and he'll fall asleep before you. In those moments, you can fully enjoy his relaxed expression when in deep slumber. He looks so heavenly when sleeping, and you can't help but give him a gentle kiss to the cheek or a peck to his lips, causing him to smile in his sleep.

Sleeping without you is awful. He's tossing, turning, trying every known sleeping position, yet he simply cannot fall asleep. You're like his teddy bear, someone he absolutely has to have with him when sleeping each and every night. He doesn't know if it's due to him feeling at ease with you by his side, knowing that you're safe and that he can protect you, or if you just bring him that level of solace that allows for him to fall asleep with little to no worries. Whatever the reason is, he just knows that falling asleep without you by his side is absolutely impossible.

Vash is the type to sleep either in his pants or just his boxers. Either way, he's shirtless when he sleeps because it's a lot more comfortable that way. He only ever sleeps in the nude if you had just finished a rather spicy love making session, otherwise he's clothed for the night. He has no preference in what you wear to bed, only that you're comfortable for the night.

Wolfwood

He's mostly the big spoon, however, give him those adorable puppy dog eyes and he'll be your little spoon for the night. He gives in very easily and can never say no to you with such a request. He's definitely a protector by nature, so that's why the big spoon is his go to when turning in for the night. Holding you close to him while sleeping lets him know that you're here, with him, safe and sound.

Aside from being the big spoon in the spooning position, his other favorite position when sleeping is you lying your head on his chest with his arm draped around you in a relaxed, yet protected, manner. That way, if anything were to happen, he can easily roll over and onto you and act as your shield. That, and he loves it when you snuggle up to him in said position.

Nicholas is a quiet sleeper, for the most part, however, there are a few times you will hear him make small noises. Sometimes talking, even. This is usually caused by dreams of him and his past. The people he's killed, the atrocities he's committed, the guilt that eats him up every day despite him trying to hide it from you. They're quelled by your presence when you cuddle in bed at night.

He hates the idea of sleeping without you by his side, especially since he's figured out that he has less nightmares with you by his side. If there is a time where he can't have you in bed with him, he won't even sleep. This man would rather stay up all night and endure the day sleep deprived than endure nightmares that will occur when he falls asleep. You provide such comfort for him that he really would choose to be sleep deprived than dream about his past mistakes when you can't sleep with him, and he hates that about himself.

He definitely sleeps either in his boxers or nude. It just depends on his mood and how tired he is at the end of the day. If he isn't too tired, he'll shed his clothes and practically slip into the bed and snuggle under the covers. If he's about to collapse, however, he will actually just sleep in his clothes. Nicholas is the type to enjoy being comfortable when sleeping at night, and he has no preference for what you choose to wear to bed. The comfier the better, he thinks.

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun vash #trigun stampede vash #vash the stampede #vash the stampede headcanons #vash x reader #vash x you #vash x y/n #trigun nicholas #trigun stampede nicholas #nicholas d wolfwood #nicholas d wolfwood headcanons #wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x you #wolfwood x y/n #trigun headcanons #trigun stampede headcanons

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rush-the-stars · 24 days

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undone

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pairing: nicholas wolfwood x afab f!reader

cw: smut. quickie? praise, reader referred to as "girl" and "sweetheart" and "baby". f!receiving oral. hair pulling. this is pretty tame tbh

wc: 2.4k

a/n: the fact that i wrote 2k words in the span of like. 2 hours for this man. unhinged. i am really going through something. shoutout to the anon who asked about wolfwood undoing corsets. i had softer and sweeter ideas with this but. alas. maybe i'll make it a lil series.

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You have roughly twenty minutes before Meryl and Vash are back from the water-station. Maybe more, depending on how much trouble they manage to get into on the way there or back—but that means you'll have to bail them out, too. So, still, twenty minutes.

Your back hits the door to the little room at the inn you'd gotten for the night with a dull thud.

"Nico!" You hardly have time to yelp before his mouth is on yours, stubble scraping against your soft lips. You claw at his shoulders, pawing and pushing at his blazer until it falls to the floor.

There's only two buttons on his shirt you have to pick at before it's open to you, since he wears it so obscenely low and unbuttoned already. When you get your hands on his bare skin, he's making a sound against you, low and desperate.

It's been a week and a half since he's had you like this, in his arms, big hands all over you.

It's been a week and a half since you'd had even a moment to yourselves long enough to do anything—

When his lips move over your jaw, your fingers sink into his dark hair, tugging, "don't leave any marks!"

The sound he makes can only be considered a growl, a rumble of it from his chest in annoyance, almost a groan. Your stomach swoops, tilting your head back anyways to give him room.

"Why are we hidin' it from them, anyways?" He barely gets out against your throat, warm, wet lips trailing lower and lower.

If you weren't half out of your mind with him, you would've been able to give a cohesive answer—something about not wanting it to make it strange to travel with or—maybe because Meryl's been warning you away from Nicholas for awhile now and you don't yet want to hear it from her.

Something like that.

But for now, all you can do is whimper when Nicholas' lips get down to the tops of your breasts before meeting the arch of your corset. He suddenly turns you and your hands fly up to steady yourself against the door.

And behind you, he gets on his knees and you feel a sharp tug at the lace of your corset.

You groan, "we don't have time for this—"

"Damn you, you said that last time—"

And he’s right, last time was quick and hot in the back of the truck, with your skirts hiked up around your waist but otherwise not a piece of fabric fully taken off. Just your poor bloomers ripped at the gusset.

And stubborn man that he is, he continues to pull at the laces expertly. Thick, strong fingers weaving into the delicate satin of the ribbon, as he gives another tug. It loosens.

You glance over your shoulder and the sight is—

Nicholas on his knees, shirt open, dark lashes fanned across his cheeks as he focuses on your corset. Another quick tug and the bodice loosens again, then he brings his other hand up—so big, so rough, and pulls at the corset deftly.

“Careful—“ you barely manage to breathe, watching, enamored with the way his fingers delve in to the delicate satin again. “You have to get this back on me before they get back, too.”

“Quit worrying,” he says, and you feel the stiff fabric give away, laces coming undone with his expert hands. “I don’t know when I’m gonna get this much time with you again.”

You let it fall from your body, freeing your breasts and revealing the sheer, ruffled slip underneath.

He hardly lets you step out of it before he tugs at the strings of the underskirt around your waist, expertly undoing that, too. It pools around your feet in swaths of peach and cream, joining your poor, undone corset.

“Slip off,” he gets out, big hands coming up to bunch in the fabric at your waist. You listen to the command almost instinctively, letting the white fabric fall from your shoulders, but realize sluggishly that—

“You’re a little too good at this,” you manage to get out as you’re finally bare up top, slip joining all your discarded clothes.

Down to your little bloomers and stockings, he lets out a huff of a laugh, one hand roaming over the bare skin of your side, other curling into the waistline of your bloomers. “What are you tryin’ to say?”

Bloomers slip down your legs with an easy pull.

“You’re a dog, Nico—!”

Your words break off into a sharp breath, just as you feel the nudge of his nose against the back of your thigh, lips settling in a wet kiss towards the inner crux of your legs. One of his hands presses on your lower back, bending you into a pretty arch for him.

The other holds you steady, creeping over your waist, thumb stroking soothingly against bare skin.

Heat rips through you like the high sun at noon, blazing, and furious. You whimper when you feel his stubble against the soft skin of the back of your thighs.

You feel where he’s headed—and it’s—in this position—

“Nico—“ you whine, and again, you try to say there isn’t time—maybe, to spare you some form of embarrassment or, or—

His tongue is sinful and hot between the shockingly wet glide between your legs. He shoulders your legs a little further apart for himself, squeezes your hip appreciatively and groans low and dirty.

You curse, hips twitching, trying to wriggle out of his hold, but he bares down. His hands squeeze.

“Don’t you run from me, sweetheart.” He gets out, gruff and soft.

And then the hot clutch of his mouth opens, sinful, against your cunt, damn near dripping onto his waiting tongue.

The whimper that works its way out of you is a flustered one, nails digging into the wood of the door as he sets to work on you. It’s messy—it’s fast and heated and his hands are being a little rough, guiding you on his mouth.

Sparks of pleasure, low in your stomach, erupt. He’s a little relentless—a little desperate. And you’re so damn wound up—

You arch into it and he hums in praise, pulling you back into the warm, wet heat of his moth, into burning pleasure.

It’s honestly a little embarrassing—

He slips one finger inside of you and curls and the angle with—his mouth—

You cry out, a pleasure burst of heat racing through your body, along the arch of your back to pulse hard and quick against his tongue.

He laughs a little when he realizes he’s already made you come, but he doesn’t let up right away. Not until you’re mewling and whining all pitiful, voice going high and desperate.

“Poor thing,” he says when he stands, crowding you against the door now with his height. His size. “Must’ve been so worked up—didn’t know you needed me that bad, sweetheart.”

“Just hurry up and fuck me—“

He laughs, low and soft, as he unzips his pants and pulls himself out. You feel him then slip through silken folds, glide all sweet and easy over where you need him most.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, hellcat.”

You groan as he sinks the head of his cock inside you. He curses. The stretch burns a little, aches deep inside—

“So fucking tight still,” he gets out, almost a growl, as he eases out and then a slow glide back in. You arch your back for him further, rock back further so he sinks deep down into you.

His turn to groan, one hand coming up to steady himself on the door by your own hand. He laces them together—sap that he is.

His other hand feels your bare body for once, no corsets or shirts in his way, calloused hands skimming over your torso. Your breasts.

He keeps himself deep inside you a moment, marveling, petting and stroking you as you try and catch your breath.

His thumb grazes the peak of your breast, pleasure skittering to life and rushing through your body. You wiggle your hips, desperate.

“Nico, c’mon, don’t tease—“ you mewl.

And then you move your hips off him, before taking him back deep inside you.

He groans again, “fuck—how could I deny you?”

You begin to set a slow pace, easing off him almost entirely before sinking back onto him. He carves a blaze inside of you, turns your mind to mush, as you continue rocking.

“Atta girl,” he gets out, watching himself disappear inside of you, before slowly pulling back out.

You moan, arching further into his touch, his embrace, before you feel his hand squeeze at your waist.

And then he thrusts, slower at first, letting you adjust. But you’re finding your own rhythm with him, chasing your own pleasure—chasing his. The way he moans, dragging you back and forth on his cock. So thick and deep, pressing into you.

His hands are all over now, savoring the way your skin feels, being able to hold and grope you like this. Rough hands on your breasts, your thighs, your ass.

You tip your head back onto his shoulder and he showers you in attention and praise—

“So fucking pretty, huh? You feel good, sweetheart? Whad’ya need from me, hm?”

“Harder,” you get out, turning desperate eyes on him. He groans again, helpless to your whims.

“Whatever my baby wants,” he says before moving to tangle a hand in your hair, taking a fistful in a swift move that has you gasping. Not too hard—but—

You moan as he sinks in roughly this time, tips your head back with his hand in your hair.

He doesn’t change the pace, just the strength. And you feel yourself flutter around him, feel the way he rumbles out another low sound of his own pleasure, as his thrusts get harder. Deeper.

“You got one more for me, sweetheart?” He asks, scattering kisses on your jaw, the side of your neck.

He lets go of your hair to skim his hand down the front of your body, to find the bundle of nerves between the crux of your thighs. It changes the angle, he crowds you, big bare chest up against your back. You’re so close he hardly even pulls out of you now, and you grind back against him.

“That’s it,” he hums, “take what you want, pretty girl.”

That’s all it really takes, with his fingers making quick, easy passes over your clit.

Your moan is broken, walls tightening up around him as he groans.

“Ha—fuck, good girl—just like that.”

He buries himself to the hilt just to feel you come around him, just to feel the way you squeeze and milk him.

“Nico—“ you get out, “want you—want you to come—“

Again, he says, voice a little wrecked, “how could I deny you?”

And then grabs hold of your hips to thrust, hard, and deep, chasing his own pleasure. It doesn’t take him long, especially when you start mewling and begging for him, arching all up into his hands desperately.

He comes hard, you feel him pulse and jump inside you, insides flooding with warm.

You’re both breathing a little heavy on the come-down, his lips scattering kisses along your bare shoulders.

For a moment, it’s peaceful— the sun is setting in a gold fury out the window, casting you both in its glory. Your body is warm and loose and—you press back into him.

You realize you want more, wiggling your hips again, but he stills you.

And somehow, he’s the voice of reason when he says, “I gotta get your corset back on you.”

You curse.

You have maybe, maybe five minutes. If that.

And then you’re both a flurry of movements, trying to clean up and get clothes back on. He helps you back into your slip.

He takes a seat on the edge of one of the beds and you stand between his legs, facing him, as he helps with your skirts, dutifully tying off the knots around your waist.

And then he’s helping you with your corset—

Nimble, knowing fingers lacing it up as if he’s done it a hundred times before, barely looking over the curve of your waist to do it.

He tightens it up, nice and snug, and you gasp at the way his big hands pull at it. At the cinch he makes.

He looks up at you, all dark, smoldering eyes.

“That was a real pretty sound,” he rumbles, twisting the lace around his hands carefully, then giving another swift tug.

You gasp again, reaching out to steady yourself on his broad shoulders.

He swears under his breath, “I need at least forty-eight hours with you alone.”

You hardly get a retort, because you both hear commotion down the hall of the inn. And two familiar voices bickering—

You lurch away from him, stepping out of his grasp and bustling over to the other bed, where you’d set down your bag, as if you might be unpacking.

Nicholas pulls out a pack of his cigarettes, puts one between his lips and lights it just as the door bursts open.

Meryl is berating Vash over something, but they’ve got the water they set out to find. And the town is still standing.

Vash cocks his head all funny when he gets in the room and looks between you and Nicholas, but otherwise doesn’t say a word.

Meryl, oblivious, is going on about how Vash almost stuck his nose somewhere he shouldn’t.

“What else is new?” You snort, trying to feel normal and not like jelly, not like you want to collapse in the arms of the man just across the room from you.

You turn to keep folding clothes, when Meryl says;

“Oh—your corset came undone. It’s untied.”

For a moment, your heart stops.

You glance at Nicholas, who catches your eye through a haze of smoke.

“Let me fix it.” Meryl says easily and you nod, swallowing, mumbling a thank you, as you turn away from her.

Her hands take the ribbon in hand and begin to wind and tie.

You face Nicholas, who’s eyeing you darkly.

And then Vash who says, “strange thing, that. Good catch, Meryl.”

He shares a look with Nicholas.

And then he chirps, “who’s sleeping with who tonight?”

You almost choke.

Meryl pipes up about how obviously you and her are sleeping together and Vash and Nicholas can figure something out—just like always. Why would it be any different? She asks.

True to his list of disastrous namesakes, what Vash says next makes pandemonium break out among the room. And truly, this might as well have been the trouble he was trying to stick his nose into, the kind of trouble that might just take down the town itself with the storm it’s about to cause.

And here you thought they’d managed to avoid trouble and you and Nicholas had gotten away scot-free.

Vash shrugs and says, “I dunno— why was her corset untied?”

#wolfwood x reader #nicholas wolfwood x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x you #wolfwood x y/n #nicholas x reader #nicholas wolfwood x you #trigun x reader #cielo writes!#cielo's writing!

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miamochi-writes · 1 year

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Hi! I’m the one who requested the Vash x reader and Wolfwood x reader scenarios of them having nightmares. Thank you so much! You wrote it so beautifully, my heart couldn’t handle how cute and sweet it was! 💖

I wanted to request if you could do the same thing but how would Vash and Wolfwood react separately to the reader getting hurt by someone? Bonus if you write for Knives too? The way you write him is so beautiful too 😭💖

I'm so glad you liked it! <3 And I can definitely take a shot at this :) Hope you like it :)

The Guys Being Protective

Vash

The minute this man finds out you're injured, your well-being is his first priority. He needs to know that you're okay before he decides his next move. If it is a minor injury, like a bruise or no bleeding, he'll probably let out a sigh of relief or give you a quick kiss. Vash is more likely going to caress your face or hold you very close to him without hurting you. He's thankful that you're still breathing and still by his side. Yet, he will remind you to be more careful next time. Vash has already lost many important people in his life, and he's not going to lose you too.

Although, if this injury is serious, Vash's fight-or-flight is going to kick in. He is going to make sure you're out of harm's way and that you get the necessary treatment possible. If anything, he'll try to patch you up with what he has available or rush to find someone to take care of you immediately. Vash is already restless that you're hurt, but would be devastated if your condition got worse.

If you even dare try to brush off your injuries as nothing, you're going to make him feel worse. He's only okay with him doing that to others, not when you do that. He's already beating himself up that you got hurt under his watch and that he didn't prevent it. So be sure to give him lots of cuddles and kisses to reassure him before he spirals. Make sure you tell him that he's not at fault and that you stay by him no matter what he says. He's been through so much, so you comforting him and showering him with kisses should do the trick.

Afterwards, he's going to ask you who did this to you. This man will find and go after whoever hurt you. Because if Vash finds the culprit, this person needs to run for their life. Vash may be Love and Peace, but that goes out the window if anyone hurts the people he loves and cares about, especially when it comes to you. He values you way too much. If he catches the culprit, Vash will make sure they don’t hurt you again. If this person gave you minor injuries, Vash will try to warn them not to do it again. But if that fails or if this person gave you serious wounds, Vash will use his fighting skills or his gun, (no killing obviously) I’m sure of it.

Let me just remind you, this is the same man who took out a good chunk of the Badlands Boys when the people in the Sand Steamer were under attack. Don't forget, this is also the same man who threatened E.G. Mine to disarm the bombs or else he'd make sure he wouldn't get away unscathed. Have you seen Vash angry? He may be babygirl, but he will punch, fight, chokehold, and bite whoever hurts you. Period. Vash will fight for you and your safety until the end of time.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

If Wolfwood finds out you got injured there's a bunch of scenarios of what could happen. But they all to lead one thing, him beating the hell out of whoever laid a finger on you. It doesn't matter if you got a bruise, scratch, cut, wound, or mark, this man is going to be worried sick about you. Despite how cold, stoic, or teasing he is, Wolfwood has a big heart for you. He's cares way too much to brush off your injuries. Although after a minute or two, this man will be seething with rage. No one hurts you and walks away it.

Of course he's going to check up on you and see how bad the damage is. If Wolfwood finds out you're lying about the pain or hiding any other injuries, his anger is going to boil over. Not at you, but at the person who did this to you. But, he would rather you tell him honestly. Wolfwood has the biggest soft spot for you and would hate it if you lied about being fine. This man has already lost Livio, and he refuses to lose you too.

This man is invincible, but you're not. He knows you only have one life and he's going to make sure you live it to the fullest with him. Once Wolfwood is done looking you over, he's hunting down the person who did this to you. He's going to give you the: "I just want to talk to the person is all." Which means, "I'm going to beat the living shit out of this person."

No one messes with The Punisher and his loved ones. Just remember that this man carries the heaviest and deadliest cross weapon in No Man's Land. So imagine the beating this person gets once Wolfwood finds them. It doesn't matter how much they run, Wolfwood will find them and make sure they know what happens if they hurt you or anyone else again. Let's face it, Wolfwood is not going to let this person live unless you or Vash stop or convince him.

Once Wolfwood settles things with the person who hurt you, you're not leaving his sight. He's going to be taking care of you to the best of his abilities and making sure you get plenty of rest. This man will need lots of reassurance from you that you're doing okay so he'll be sticking by you a lot more. Probably going to cling onto you with hugs and kisses and giving you his lollipops. Call him Nicholas from time to time in private and this man will be putty in your hands.

Knives Million

Knives is someone who rarely wears his heart on his sleeve. But if it involves you, he'll only show his feelings in private with you. So imagine what is going on with Knives internally when he finds out someone hurt you. That stoic face? Gone. Composure? Shaken up. His blades? Ready to cut someone up with no hesitation.

If you're a human, Knives knows that humans are delicate and don't live long compared to him. If he sees a cut or a minor scratch, he'll tell you to be mindful of your actions. He knows those kinds of wounds will recover in no time. However, if he even sees a bruise, any deep cuts, or bleeding, Knives is not going to let that pass.

If you're a plant and Knives finds out someone hurt you as mentioned above, there's no stopping him from seeking revenge. Knives will send Con'rad to tend to your wounds. If Con'rad doesn't do a good job of patching you up, the plant will have a long and menacing talk with him alone. If you can bring joy, solace, or even fill the lonely void Knives has within him, of course he's going to hold you in high regard. You are beyond special to him and will make sure no one lays a finger on you. Or rather, make sure no one takes you away from him.

Knives will demand you tell him who did this to you. If it was someone from outside his humble abode or lower ranking men that hurt you, he's going to off them immediately. Plus he never liked most humans, so less people for him to worry about. However, if he finds out it was one of the more important men like Legato, Con'rad, or any other high ranking follower...good luck. He's probably going to make their punishment slow and painful. Knives will reiterate what happens if they dare even hurt you and that they should consider themselves lucky that he's keeping them alive. He’ll probably make an example of someone if he catches them hurting you again.

Once he's done taking care of things, Knives will go check up on you to see how you're doing. He will take time out of his schedule, more importantly his alone time, to see you. Knives needs to know that you're doing okay and healing from your injuries. If you visit him while he's playing piano, he'll beckon you to sit with him and play you a song. If you try to play along with him, you're going to brighten this man's day.

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strawurberries · 11 months

Note

Oh my god! Berry I had an idea and I had to come running to you with it cause I thought you'd enjoy it too (and cause your writings awesome) but,

A Soulmate AU where you can hear the other person's thoughts?

With Vash, Wolfwood and nai please! (Separate obviously cause I honestly think having all three as soulmates would just be too much xD)

Whether headcannons or a little scenario thingy I leave up to you 😁

Hope you have an awesome day! - 🍰anon

Soulmate Head cannons

Summary: Head cannons with little drabbles about Soulmates <3

Authors Note: I'm sorry this took so long! Finals are finally over so I can focus on writing :) I hope you all enjoy!! Also I wouldn't mind having all three as soul mates. . . but ya know 😂

Warnings: Self-hate, mild sexual themes, angst, cursing, mentions of religion and murder.

Vash didn’t know what an ocean looked like—deep, painfully blue, and so cooling yet full of dangers unimaginable—but he assumed it had to be something similar to the sight before him: sand dunes rose and fell like the chest of some great giant, tumbling across the horizon without thought or remorse. Compared to the vastness of sand before him, he was nothing but a speck of dust—smaller than the grains of sand that covered this desolate, prison-like planet. Part of him was comforted by that fact, knowing that in the grand scheme of things he would be nothing but a passing memory—no one out there to judge him, hurt him, or even see him. Yet he also hated the loneliness of it all. Looking out and seeing no life but himself, it only served to remind him what he was.

Vash the Stampede:

“Shit!”

He paused, feet sinking into the dry sand below. A semi-cool wind hit the back of his neck. “Hello?” his voice echoed out into the world around—hello. . . hello. . . . . hello. Nothing responded and he adjusted the strap over his shoulder. He must really be losing it now. He had suffered from heat stroke before, had experienced delusions, and been near deaths’ door due to the pounding suns above, so, unfortunately, he knew what might be happening.

He stood still for a moment, longer. . . nothing. Okay, perhaps this was a one time delusion and he’ll be fine.

“How the hell am I going to get out of this alive?!”

He whirled around, looking for any sign of life—the person of whom the disembodied voice belonged to. After a moment he confirmed his suspicions. There was no one around. He groaned and covered his face, thinking to himself: “the heat must be getting to me. . .”

“What?”

He blinked, “What?”

“Who are you?”

“Who are you?” he yelled out into the vastness of the desert. No one responded. “What the hell?”

“Great! I’m getting shot at and I’m hallucinating!”

“What is happening right now?!”

“You tell me! You’re the voice in my head!”

“No, you’re the one in my head!”

The first time you two met—and by that, I mean: the first time you two heard each other—was a mess. You were busy running for your life, and he was wandering through the emptiness of a sandy sea. Both of you, due to different reasons, thought you were going insane. You thought the adrenaline of the situation finally made you snap, and that this run-in with danger took the last bit of your sanity. Vash, on the other hand, swore the heat was out to kill him again and he ignored you for the most part—no use in talking to a delusion. It was only after you both reached safety and had a night's rest, that you both came to realize this was something more than hallucinations.

“Uh. . . so. . . are you real?” Vash thought to himself as he washed his face in the sink, the morning sun starting to make the hotel room feel like an oven.

“Of course I am! . . . are you?”

From then on you two talked a lot, and bonded immensely considering the other’s deepest, darkest and most intimate parts are on display.

Vash tried desperately to keep the fact that he’s a plant and an outlaw a secret, but simply thinking about how he wanted to not think about it, made him think about it. And, therefore, you heard it all within the first five minutes of knowing him.

“You’re Vash the Stampede! The humanoid typhoon?!”

“Uh. . . no?” He thought about how stupid of a lie that is.

“I can hear your thoughts, Vash! You can’t lie!”

“Aw man I forgot!”

Really, Vash was terrified at first. Having someone able to hear his thoughts? It meant his act, his silly persona, was useless. He was laid bare in front of a person he didn’t know, had never seen, and wasn’t even sure if they were 100% real. No matter what lie he constructed, the truth would be sitting somewhere in his thoughts; easy to access, and even easier to talk about considering there was no way to ignore each other.

“Vash?”

He didn’t want to talk today. A mother had been killed, he had been shot in the shoulder, and ran out of town faster than he had ever known was possible. Sitting by himself in a crude rock formation, miles from any town with the moons shining down on him with pity. He wanted to be alone—to wallow, and think, and cry, and grieve for what was lost and what could never be.

“Vash, I know you're throwing a pity party right now.”

He wiped some tears from his eyes, watching the stars.

“Vash, Vash, Vash, Vash, Vash, Vash—come on! I know you're hurting, but it wasn’t your fault. Nothing is. The whole space ship thing? Not your fault. Your brother? He’s his own person, you can’t control his actions—his decisions aren’t on you. The deaths? Inevitable, Vash. Everyone dies someday.”

“But they died because I was there!” He hated showing this side—the pain, the anger, the grief. He didn’t deserve to feel this way. His life, the wandering and suffering, was his punishment for failing to save the people he loved. He didn’t deserve comfort.

“When I finally meet you, I’m going to slap you upside the head before giving you the biggest hug you’ve ever felt.”

He blinked. “Eh?”.

After the rocky start, the weird emotional trauma bonding, and the insecurities—Vash fell hard. Having someone who could peer into his very soul? It, despite feeling so terrifying at first, made him feel so understood and. . . safe. This person has seen the very worst of him, the bottom of the barrel, and yet they chose to keep on talking to him. And, of course, normally Vash would take those emotions to the grave. He doesn’t deserve love. Whoever loves him, whoever he loves, will end up dead. But those thoughts, quite literally, are destroyed the moment they are given tangible sound.

“I love you too, so I need you to stop thinking that I shouldn’t. Even if you keep running away—” despite the fact that he so desperately wants to meet you he’s terrified you’ll get hurt, and runs away the moment you're in a hundred mile vicinity—“I’ll still love you. And one day I’ll find you Vash. I promise that.”

He sobbed for about an hour straight after that.

He really does want to meet you, it’s the truth, but he needs to confront his fears before he can enjoy your love without guilt.

Wolfwood:

Wolfwood couldn’t fall asleep. The lull of the bus hadn’t hit him yet, the rocking and groaning metal not a lullaby but a shrieking reminder of how far away from civilization he is. Usually he’d be passed out by now, cigarette limply hanging between his lips, but he had opted to twiddle with it between his fingers. The smoke curled around his palm, lazily rising up into the musty air of the bus. No matter how long he closed his eyes for, how many sheep he counted, or how he positioned himself, he couldn’t reach the comforting arms of sleep. Eventually he gave up, annoyed that everyone else on the bus—excluding the driver himself, thank god—had managed to peacefully drift away into their dreams.

“I’m tired. . .”

He blinked and chuckled quietly, “you and me sister.” He turned away from the window, taking a small drag of his cigarette as he turned to see who had spoken. A lady across the aisle looked at him, tilting her head. He gave a small wave and she turned away quickly.

“Rude,” he thought for a moment before sighing. Maybe he should try to go to sleep again.

“Hello?”

He blinked and looked around. Surely someone must be sleep-talking. Right? “Wish I could be sleeping,” he looked around once more, eyes lingering on the lady across the aisle who was now starting to doze off. “This sucks.”

“Okay, I’m hallucinating now. God damn it. I knew that I shouldn’t have eaten that sandwich.”

He turned around, looking behind him, and then back to the front where the bus driver was humming a song to himself. “What. . .?” Pure confusion was all he felt. Earlier he had spent several hours in the sun, but the heat couldn’t have gotten to him this bad. . . right? Right?

“Oh God, please make this food poisoning death quick. I’m not into pain.”

Sleep deprivation must really be getting to him. This is going to be a long ride.

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

Part of Wolfwood thought for a moment he might be getting possessed—he tossed that idea aside quickly but he did consider it for a moment before shaking his head. The other option, he thought, would have to be that the stress of trying to find the Humanoid Typhoon finally caught up to him, and he’s in the middle of a psychotic break. But he remembered hearing that you can’t be aware that you’re in psychosis so. . . where does that leave him?

“Has God really forsaken me this time?” he grumbled, stumbling off the bus and waiting for someone to toss the Punisher down to him.

“I hope not!” came the voice again, “I already have bad luck. If god hates me then I’m really a goner.”

Both of you came to the conclusion fairly quickly that there was no demon or god involved, nor were either of you dying or having a breakdown. Wolfwood, unlike Vash, accepted the situation a lot faster. He was confused and apprehensive at first, after all, no one likes showcases their true, intimate selfs—but he got over it fairly quickly. If this was what fate had given him, he would accept it. After all, it didn’t seem to be too horrible. What’s the matter with appreciating the good things in life?

When he gets bored he’d just stare off into space and annoy you—doesn’t matter what you're doing, or what he’s supposed to be doing. He’ll call your name over and over and over, or start preaching until you tell him to shut up. Sometimes, though, he will start talking about the dirtiest, strangest things you’ve ever heard of until your interest is piqued or until he can hear a reaction from you. Either way, no matter what method he chooses, you’ll eventually be talking to him.

“Here’s another quote, ‘Give your burdens to the lord. And he will take care of you. He will not permit the godly to slip and fall. Psalm 55:22’. You know, personally, I’ve always thought that bible verse—”

“Please shut up. I will literally kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try, Doll.”

His favorite pastime is annoying you, making you flustered, or straight up saying the most out of pocket shit you can ever imagine. And, the funny thing is, you always know what he’s trying to do yet he still manages to get a reaction. It doesn’t matter if he spends several minutes brainstorming before saying what he wants, and it doesn’t matter if you try and prepare yourself, he is a master at being a cocky, loveable bastard.

He does hate when you manage to get him to talk deeper about himself, when you bring in the comfort and philosophical talk. Deep down he knows this life isn’t something he wants to partake in, he doesn’t want to go down the path that has been chosen for him, but what other option does he have?

“You don’t have to kill.”

“How am I supposed to survive if I don’t? This world is built on blood, and one person trying to make it better isn’t going to do shit.”

“Well, I actually think it’s two people trying to make it better. Can’t say I’ve ever killed anyone.”

He was slightly salty when he got that response.

He didn’t fall first here, but he most certainly fell harder. His heart is a little petrified, and he often lets people in, but only deep enough to where they feel accepted yet can’t glance at anything too important. It’s like if he invited you over to his home, showed you the kitchen and living room, but kept every other door locked and closed. Yet you had the key and essentially broke every lock in one go. He still doesn’t know if he hates or loves it.

He also desperately wants to meet you but, like Vash, he’s terrified you’d get hurt. But his love and desire outweigh his nervousness and, besides, he’ll protect you with everything he has. If he must die for you, so be it. So, the moment he is sure of himself he asks where you are. And, of course, you knew this was coming, and he knew you knew, and you knew he knew you knew. Make sense?

“Do you want to meet in person?” he thought about how much he wanted to see them, feel them, hear them with his ears not with. . . his mind? He wasn’t really sure how this whole thing worked.

“Of course! How could I deny you when you’re practically begging?!”

“Begging? You haven’t seen me beg yet. . . and now that I think about it, I haven’t seen you beg either. That must be a pretty sight, huh?”

Bastard. He’s a bastard.

Million Knives:

Knives were pissed. No matter how loud he played the piano, or how many plants he surrounded himself with, he could not get that annoying little song out of his head. A solemn, lonesome hum that echoed through his mind like nothing he had ever heard—and it infuriated him beyond anything he had ever known. At first he had assumed it was the sound of the pipes, the mechanical building breathing with man-made life, but once he found himself in the desert, alone, he knew that wasn’t the case. It crossed his mind for a moment, a moment, that he might be having some mental issues but he quickly tossed that idea out the window. He could never have any problems like that, never.

He brushed his fingers along the piano keys, thinking of problems past and future, thinking of what is to come and how he should deal with it all. His own thoughts, he noticed, almost drowned out the humming; that was, until, a voice blew through his troubled mind.

“Woah, you’re a plant?”

He whirled around, ready to mame and kill whoever had managed to infiltrate his base. . . but no one was there. “Come on out now!” he seethed, “and I’ll make your death painless.”

No response but the clacking of gears and the hiss of steam.

“Audacious human,” he spit out in his mind, already thinking of different ways to kill whoever dared to address him. He began to stalk the room, eyes snapping from one corner to the next. “They can’t hide long. I’ll find them.”

“Why are you so violent? Geez. . . well, I mean I guess it makes sense but don’t you get tired of being angry all the time?” The voice trailed off and began humming that infuriating tune. A vague thought that wasn’t his came to the forefront of his mind, wondering if it was worth eating the stale bread or if he should—wait no, not him because this isn’t his thoughts—they should wait until they get paid tomorrow to eat.

He ignored the mundane thoughts and confronted the voice in his head, “you’re the one who’s been singing that idiotic song?!”

“Wow, you’re rude too. Who would’ve guessed?”

The conversation devolved very quickly after that.

To be honest, you’d be found very, very quickly. Unlike Vash, Knives won’t avoid you; and unlike Wolfwood, he won’t wait until the time is right—he’ll rush off into the desert and hunt you down in less than a week. Finding a stranger is surprisingly easy when you have infinite access to their thoughts. At first he was angry and only wanted to find you so he could cut your head off, but soon—despite his hatred for admitting this—he found you interesting.

“I’m coming to kill you, and you’re not worried at all?”

“I’ll die someday, and besides, I think I’m starting to charm you.”

“I will rip you apart.”

“Sounds sexy.”

You infuriate him on so many levels he doesn’t even know where to start.

Actually, he does know where to start. You peer into his mind and learn everything about him and oh my god that pisses him off because now a human—a mere human!—knows everything about him: his trauma, his fears, his past, his brother. And he has now way to stop you from learning about him. Out of pure spite, though, he tries his best to learn nothing about you. . . but that plan fails quickly.

“I’m going to kill myself!” you cry out in your mind, rage edging at the tone of your words.

“Please don’t, it’ll take the joy out of me torturing you.”

“I’m already being tortured! My boss sucks! Ugh! I’m going to kill him!”

He has a tiny, second-long urge to say he’ll kill the man for you before he literally gags with disgust. He had never been so glad someone was distracted because if you had focused on his intentions in that moment you would have teased him until he showed up on your doorstep and killed you.

Over the course of the couple days he spent tracking you, he unwillingly came to be invested in your life and found a small amount of joy when he debated with you.

“Humanity sucks, yes, but we can be good!”

“It doesn’t matter if you can or can’t. What matters is what you’ve done, and what you’re doing. Your potential means nothing when compared to the damage you’ve done.”

“. . . damn it why are you smart. Also, I didn’t do anything! I was just born!”

“That’s a sin in itself.”

“Okay, well, gotta call you out on that one. Being born is not a sin, also, what are you? A preacher? Jesus Christ!”

“Don’t use his name in vain.”

“What?”

After he gets over his initial repulsion and hatred he finds the look into human life interesting. You’re pitiful, weak, and disgusting yet you still push on. Why? Why? Why?

“Why not?’

“It’s useless.”

“So?”

“So. . .?”

“I got you, the great Knives, tongue tied? Wow, I can die happily now.”

Overall, it takes a while for him to fall for you. At first it’s purely rage, and then it’s curiosity, and then. . . maybe he’d call it interest. He wouldn’t fall first and he wouldn't fall that hard, but he’d still appreciate you in some capacity.

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h4venpha · 9 months

Text

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𓂃 ⟡

idk i just like possessiveness. and wolfwood

“kiss me.”

“—what?” you almost spit out your drink.

“kiss me,” wolfwood repeats, hand reaching up to grab your jaw and tilt your head as he leans down.

“wha— what are you doing?” you whisper-yell, heat rising to your face while you place your glass on the table.

“cmon…” he grumbles, voice rumbling as his other hand sneaks down to tug you in by your belt loops. you squeak and close your eyes as he presses his fingers into your cheeks before slotting his lips against yours. you can taste the smoke and the alcohol in his mouth, its intoxicating as you relax into the kiss.

wolfwood moves to your jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your nape. his hand slides possessively to your lower back as he makes eye contact with the man behind you. you can feel him smile against your neck.

wolfwood pulls away and lets out a triumphant snort and watches out of the corner of his eye as the man walks away. still, his hand stays firm on your hip and he turns to pick up his cigarette from where he propped it up in the ash tray.

“what was that for?” you huff, fanning your face gently

wolfwood blows out smoke, greyish white clouds curling toward you. “someone was eyein’ you,” he sighs.

“really? that wasn’t just your excuse to kiss me?” you raise an eyebrow at him.

“you complainin’?” wolfwood chuckles, fingers rubbing just above your waist line.

“well— no but—“

“shhh shh then it’s fine, yeah?” he grumbles, pulling you possessively against his side.

#h4venpha #bruh lazy ass post #nicholas d. wolfwood #trigun #trigun stampede #trigun maximum #trigun 1998 #trigun 2023 #wolfwood #wolfwood x you #wolfwood x y/n #wolfwood x reader #wolfwood fluff #wolfwood headcanons

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meguwumibear · 4 months

Text

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!

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.”

#trigun x reader #trigun x you #vash x reader #vash x you #wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x you #nicholas wolfwood x reader #nicholas wolfwood x you #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede x you #nicholas d wolfwood x reader #nicholas d wolfwood x you #vashwood x reader #vashwood x you #trigun x y/n #vash x y/n #wolfwood x y/n

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fruitsoxs · 11 months

Text

midnight munchies

sometimes getting high with your crush ends in success

pairings: Modern!wolfwood x AFAB!reader warnings: !nsfw minors dni!, smut, making out, fluff, kinda mentions being high (doesn't go into much detail about that), cunnilingus, fingering, adam sandler notes: this went a bit out of my control lol- i may or may not have a part 2 in the works. also i have like a bunch of headcannons for my modern wolfwood in this fic if anyone wants them-- word count: 2.2k words

“Remind me again why we can’t grab all these snacks?” The gravelly voice of your dearest friend Nicholas D Wolfwood asks, grabbing a few bags of chips from your kitchen. You sigh and shoot him a look. “Because I get the munchies and literally cannot control myself when I’m high.” You reply as the microwave beeps lightly. You pop open the door and grab the popcorn with a smile. Nic sets a bowl down next to you, and you give him a quiet thank you, before pouring the warm snack into the bowl.

It’s movie night - a now weekly tradition the two of you have developed. A night where you pick out a terrible movie, get high, and just hang out.

You’ve only been friends with Nic for about a month now, after meeting on the balcony at some party you didn’t want to go to. It’s crazy how immediately the two of you clicked. And instead of making out and never talking again, you held yourself back from kissing this insanely attractive man and got his number instead. To be friends.

Now the two of you are basically inseparable. Texting constantly, always hanging out during your free time, and basically becoming the ultimate pair of best buds. And although that relationship is great, you can’t help but long to be something more…intimate. You thought he was attractive the moment you saw him with his messy dark hair, and tan skin. He’s like straight out of a TV show. As you got to know him more though, you couldn’t help but just keep falling. He’s funny, nice, a bit of a loser, and he is really good with kids. He’s like a dream guy!

Even now, as you sit next to him on your shitty ass couch, you can’t help feel your heart flutter within your ribs. The way he leans back, and puts his arm across the back of the couch- almost around your shoulders. The way he throws a chip in the air and catches it with his mouth so casually- his light chuckle as something funny happens in the movie. It’s all so perfect.

You’re not even paying attention to the movie at this point, eyes focused on him with this small smile. You’re sure you look absolutely in love, but he’s not even paying attention to you.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss Adam Sandler.”

His eyes are hyper focused on the movie (Hotel Transylvania 4). You’re a little confused on why he’s actually invested in this movie, but he’s cute so whatever. His smile starts to widen, and his eyes glance over to you, as if he’s waiting for you to answer.

“He’s not in this one?” You ask, turning your head to the screen with a slight blush. “How can you not tell?” Nic asks, laughing softly.

“Oh I’m sorry I’m not an Adam Sandler expert like you.”

He laughs again, throwing his head back. He’s so cute. You break out into a little giggle of your own, and join him in what feels like a non-stop laugh session. Yeah- the effects are starting to hit you now for sure. As soon as you can catch your breath you cool down, and with a happy sigh you lean over resting your head on his shoulder.

He smiles when your head hits his shoulder and looks down at you. “This is kinda cute, you know.” He mumbles softly, only loud enough for you to barely hear it. Your cheeks turn a bit pink, and you let your thoughts inside your head flow through your lips without even thinking. “You’re kinda cute, you know.” you huff.

He smiles softly at the words, his eyes lighting up. “What was that?” He asks, an amused tone to his voice. “You gotta be louder than that.” He chuckles, flashing you a coy grin, before turning back to the movie.

“I said you’re kinda cute.” You repeat, this time louder. Suddenly you’re feeling a little brave. There’s an almost permanent smile on your lips, even as your heart thumps softly in your chest. Nic’s breathing stops for a moment, before his chest erupts into a light chuckle. He lowers his arms around your shoulders, and pulls you into his side. You can feel the vibrations in his chest from the laughter, and smell the smoke on his clothes.

He angles his head down to look at you. “Aww thank you darlin~” You can feel his breath against your face and it makes your heartbeat pick up. He looks at your relaxed expression and chuckles again. “Is it hitting you already?” He asks, his hand squeezing your shoulder softly. “You really are so cute…”

You make no effort to push yourself away, but hide your face a bit. “Don’t make fun of me like that I might actually explode.” You mumble, flustered beyond all belief. He puts his fingers under your chin, and lifts your face up so it’s facing his.

“Adorable…” His hand drops, but you stay looking up at him. His tone is soft, but there’s a hint of amusement on his face. “If I tell you a secret, will you promise me you won’t tell anyone?” he lowers his tone to a light whisper, leaning in closer so his lips graze your cheek. “Just between us?”

“I promise.” You mumble oh so softly, taking in his scent. Your eyes are a little wide, staring up at him with red cheeks. This feels intimate.

“Okay…I think I like you.” He whispers, his tone so soft. “It’s dumb and cheesy I know, but I just…” he trails off with a sheepish smile. “Wanted to be honest with you. I mean we just smoked together, and I’m a little bit stoned, and you’re cute and this just feels right to tell you how I feel about you.” He rambles, lifting his head away a bit so you can see that he is serious.

It hits you hard. Really hard. He likes you too. You should kiss him, or tell him you feel the same way. Instead though, you give a little dramatic gasp. “This is crazy, but I…” you trail off, your teasing tone becoming more serious as your voice drops down an octave. “I think I like you too.” And when you say those words, they come out serious. You’re being honest.

His eyes widen, and it looks like he’s letting the news settle before he leans in more. “How much?” he asks with a tiny, playful smile. You lean forward and press a soft kiss to his lips, closing your eyes as you do. It’s a small kiss, and before he can kiss back you pull away. “That much.”

In an instant he sweeps you up into his arms and pulls you onto his lap, his lips connecting with yours again. It’s a heated kiss, one filled with passion. He pulls you against him, and you have to hold back a whine as you rub against him softly. His tongue swipes against your lips, and as soon as you part them he’s shoving his tongue right into your mouth. He takes a little while to explore every inch he can, before he pulls away. It leaves both of you panting.

“Wow.” Is all you can say, dazed from whatever that was. Nic doesn’t seem to be doing much better, nodding with a smile. “That was…really nice.” He agrees. “We should….keep doing that.” You mumble.

You both lean in for the kiss, picking back up where you stopped. Your hands rush to his hair as your lips move in sync. He puts his hands on your waist, squeezing your body softly. He pulls away from the kiss, and pushes his lips against your neck. He trails kisses down, nibbling and sucking slightly. “N-Nic-” you moan and grind down slightly. He gasps at the pressure and lets out an honest to god whimper. “F-Fuck darlin’- you’re driving me crazy.” he mumbles against your skin.

You whisper a curse, your body heating up at the little nickname he calls you. “I love when you call me that.” You murmur. You feel him smile against your neck, and his lips leave your skin as he pulls back. “Oh is that so?” I guess I have to keep calling you that then, Darlin’~” He chuckles, watching your reaction. He must like it, because the next thing he does is lean down next to your ear. “Does it just make you melt?”

You let out a shaky moan, and his laughter vibrates against your ear. “You fucking tease.” You shoot at him with feign anger. He pulls away from your ear and instead presses his lips to yours again. A sweet little apology kiss. You grab onto his face and deepen it again.

It turns into a lazy open mouthed kiss soon enough, his tongue twirling around yours as soft moans leave your throat. As you pull away you bite his lip softly which causes him to grunt. Next thing you know you’re being flipped onto your back with him hovering over you. His lips are on yours again, and he trails his hand up your shirt. His hand is warm, and calloused. The skin to skin contact sends a shiver down your spine.

He slowly pushes his hand up further, cupping your breast, massaging it through your bra. You whimper against his lips, and in return he moves his hand to your other breast and gives it some attention as well. The feeling goes straight down, and you buck your hips up in a desperate attempt for some friction.

He hums, and starts moving his lips down. He places phantom kisses over your clothed nipples, and keeps moving down. Your eyes widen at the realization of where this is going. His fingers dig into the waistband of your bottoms, and he pulls them off quickly. Now completely bare- he stares down at your exposed pussy. His pupils dilate with a hunger you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. He flicks his eyes back up to your face. “This okay?” He asks- voice soft.

You nod, but he doesn’t move. “I need a yes darlin’.” He mumbles. You can tell he’s excited, especially with the way his fingers dig into your thighs, but he’s still taking the time to make sure you’re alright. Cute.

“Y-Yes.” You manage to get out- despite being helplessly speechless by the situation. At your consent, his fingers trails down your stomach. Your breath hitches in your throat as he takes two fingers and dips them slowly through your folds. “So wet for me, and I’ve barely done anything…” He trails off, smirking as you twitch below him.

“I can’t wait to taste you.” He growls softly, lifting your legs into the air. He starts trailing kisses down your thighs, lowering his head between your legs. It takes everything within you not to scream at him to hurry the fuck up. He bites the inside of your thigh ever so softly, before his face hovers your cunt.

His eyes meet yours and he smirks before letting out a warm breath against you. You whine and try to lift your hips up to meet his face, but he’s holding you down. “Now, have some patience. I promise you it will be worth it.” He coos, softly.

The noise you let out must tell him how desperate you are, because right after he chuckles and licks up your folds, never breaking eye contact.

“Nicholas- oh my god!” You arch your back up and cry out. He smiles and slowly inserts a finger into you, soon joined another. “Let me hear all those pretty noises.” His mouth moves against your cunt. You sob out his name again, and he presses his tongue against your clit.

He licks and sucks at the sensitive bud, while his fingers curl inside of you. The noises you let out are loud, and rather sinful. You’re not sure if your neighbors are appreciating the symphony of lewd screams as much as Nic is- but you honestly don’t care much right now. Your hands drop to his head, gripping onto his hair as he eats you out.

He moves his fingers in a certain way that has your toes curling, and it becomes clear that you’re already close to the end. “Nic I’m close-” You warn breathlessly.

He speeds up his fingers in response, mumbling praise against your folds. It’s enough to send you over the edge- and the orgasm hits you fast.

“FUCK- I’m coming- oh god I’m-” You squeeze your eyes close as you yell out for him. The pleasure waves through you, causing your body to jerk around a bit. He works you through your climax, lapping up everything that flows out of you like a starved man.

You fall slack against the couch as he sits back up, wiping his face. He’s got this lazy, satisfied smile on his lips as he looks down at you.

You reach your hand out to his dick, still trapped in his pants but he shakes his head. “Tonight is all about you.” He mumbles, grabbing your hand to intervene. He brings your palm up to his lips, and kisses it softly. He pulls you up and has you sit with your face rested against his chest. He wraps an arm around you lazily, and goes back to the movie.

“Hey Nic?”

“Yeah?”

“I thought I was the one who got the munchies while high”

“Shut up.”

#nicholas d wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x you #wolfwood x y/n #wolfwood imagines #wolfwood smut #trigun x reader #wolfwood x reader smut #fun fact my partner beta read this and told me they'd be better as friends #also they're the one who told me to put adam sandler in this fic so

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kakubun · 1 year

Text

noooo! don't turn me into a marketable plushie!!

about: trigun guys with a reader who likes to make plushies

a/n: tiny vash (this is also short cause i was impatient to post this limau (lmao) )

pairings: vash x reader, wolfwood x reader

vash

best believe he does a little squel when he sees your works

he ADORES all of the little animal, fruit, veggie, whatever you make plushies you make and squeezes the living hell out of it in excitement

if you like gift giving, he will gladly show it off, keeping them on his bags as keychains, putting it on his table, hell even on his ears if he wants to feel silly

he's also the type to send those good morning messages with the small plush that you made sitting right next to his plate of eggs and bacon

and when you make a tiny version of him, he thinks he died and went to heaven (not literally though i haven't read the manga bro isn't dead right)

it is the most cutest fcking thing he has ever seen in his life, you even got down to the shade of his hair and coat!

for funsies, you would defitenely make his gun and he would scream if you added something that could make tiny him hold it

he would hug you and the plushie at the same time to thank you

he will cherish this gift forever

just know if anybody ever sees it and mskes fun of it, he'll just say that they don't have a wonderful, most coolest person to make plushies for them and fake cries to make fun of them and run off to giggle

gives it silly nicknames like vashie or vash the junior

wolfwood

would grip the ever living shit out of your plushies as if they'll respond

he thinks it's a cute hobby (and that you're cute too

i see him as a guy who just fucks with it, you do you

would buy you materials if you ever run out and you would panic every single time if you think you're running out but a new fresh batch (the exact same colour too!) would pop up in your sewing basket!

he doesn't admit this though, he thinks he's slick

he keeps some in his pockets and gives them to children if they're in need of a small companion/ cheer them up

very much suprising you when kids come at your doorstep to thank you for the plushies and they would grin in thanks

but his favourite one is the tiny version of him, how adorable

he places it into his pocket like it was his kid and brings it everywhere, so if he ever wants to pull out a cigeratte to smoke, he would always have to push away tiny him deeper into his pocket to get at his box of cigerattes

calls it little guy

knives

he doesn't have a need of plushies, it clogs up his space, he finds it useless

second chill guy? he doesn't care at all of what you do and he doesn't bother with your gifts, keeping it into a basket at first

until you made effort in creating a tiny version of himself to which he scoffs in amusement

and hey!! there's detachable blade coils, isn't that fun???!?!?

you have to look at him closely for a reaction, just a tense constipated look of focus on what you've done, intricate details of his suit means he kinda likes it (he doesn't want to admit he finds this action cute whether friend or spouse, it was nice to receive something that was really worked hard on especially when it was him, literally)

there was also a slight twitch of his lips, a quick lift at the end like he wanted to smile but he didn't want to give you the pleasure

(he find your methaphorical droppy ears on your head funny, what a meanie)

he keeps it on his piano, although he finds it bothersome when it falls face flat because of the piano's vibrations or his tiny him blade coils making it heavy on the back, he still likes keeping it close

he goes through that same basket of what you sewed for him and gradually the plushies you thought he threw/dump it elsewhere were now popping up in every corner of the house as decoration (atleast there was some use..? right?)

vash calls it little nai (knives doesn't do nicknames)

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2kmps · 9 months

Text

wolfwood has wanted to kiss you for a while. his inexperience decides to come front and center when he tries.

notes; 1.2k, woowoo fluff and him being clumsy and sloppy, tristamp coded.

out of habit, wolfwood plucked a piece of gum from the blue package in your fingers. he had just expended his last cigarette; the bent tip still glowing hot amber in the sea of golden-beige underfoot. there were more scattered around, partially buried and snuffed, not an entirely unusual scene, but enough to lure you away from mingling around the campsite to where he stood, obscured by van while perched on a tire. distantly, through the erratic lick of bonfire and animated, drawled chatter from drunken others, you saw lighter spark and cigarettes extinguish in rapid succession.

"okay, spill," you tucked another flat stick of gum into his dusty blazer pocket, "you've been standing over here for an hour. what's wrong?"

"ain't your business. back up, would you?" wolfwood said, lightly sweeping your hand away as he stood to lean his shoulders into the van alongside you. he tucked the gum as far back in his teeth as he could, the particular taste astringent and burned his nares, and not in any way he enjoyed. "sounds like you guys were having a good time. should I be flattered that you came over here to be nosy?"

you puckered and tutted at him. "I'm always half expecting to find you face down in the sand from your lungs shriveling up."

"right now, I think you'd better worry more about spikey choking on his puke in his sleep--" he shifted his weight onto an arm he curled near his head, body towards you--"or, gramps breaking a hip trying to tell one of his shitty stories. surprised you didn't drink anything."

it was all in jest, all of it. there was a sense of familiarity in this situation; standing next to one another in the cold night, faraway warbles from your comrades in high-spirits an oddly lightening feeling. wolfwood didn't get enough moments like these with you, not without intrusive gazes and busybodies coming to foil the good mood he had built up.

"they'll be okay." you voiced a shared opinion while wearing a subdued smile, something a little more timid than he was used to seeing from you. "you've been out of sorts for a few days, though. I know we're not-- I don't know, super close, but you can still talk to me, nick."

oh, but he wanted to be closer to you. oh, he didn't know how to handle the patter behind his ribs, the heat swirling in his core and crawling up his face whenever you called him something other than nicholas. the longer he stared at your face, drawing closer to moment your eyes averted as though daunted by him, he wondered if you would accept him any other way than now-- the long-standing way things had always been between you both.

amicable. unserious. he would be leaving that behind in hopes of what he ventured towards would be reciprocated. half a thought he froze in place was to strand this entire thing he orchestrated; it was dumb and dangerous, there was no reason to fuck up the status quo, but yet he argued that there was-- and it simply was that he wanted more.

"maybe-- maybe you should take the edge off with a few drinks. it may do you some good." you were grasping for things to say now, but the fact that you kept trying, heels inhumed in sand whilst your weight relaxed into cold metal against you told him all he needed. you weren't in a rush, and neither was he.

coarse granules scuffed under his shoes as the divide separating the heat of your bodies narrowed, and he could see the moonlight catch a glimmer in your eyes. this was the closest you had let him get to you on purpose, in the past claiming that the smell of smoke stuck to him every bit the same as whiskey did to an alcoholic, or a weepy leg to infection.

"you really shouldn't be telling someone to trade one vice for another." he turned his head to spit out the gum, an ungraceful display that made him sputter when the taste of it landed fully on his tongue. it took him a moment to rebound, swallowing back another cough. "especially not when you're tempting with another vice."

you gave him an oblique glance. "hey, are you gonna make it? did you choke on your spit?"

this was not how he intending things to go. ordinarily, this was when he would've backed out, masked his embarrassment as some type of stunt that left you bewildered, while he would puff away on a new pack of smokes as he sulked.

tonight, however, he wasn't dwarfed by cowardice but rather that very same desire to have more from you. his arm bent against the metal near your head, dry fingertips a rough touch on your jaw as he tilted your face up to meet his lips. the wispy, dark tips of his hair feathered across your skin each time he leaned into you, imprints of warmth lasting until the next kiss and the one after that.

he tested the feeling, softly, at first, partially anticipating you to rip away from him with some exaggerated horror to downplay your uneasiness. the longer he went kissing you, leaning into the softness of your lips a little more each time, the more eager he became, spurred on by thrumming in his ears and heat and cold warring spots on the high planes of his face.

then, you swiveled your head out of his grip, letting his hand fall to your shoulder where he had stop himself from digging his nails into the roundness of them. he stayed close to your face, calming his shuddering breaths that were the closest thing he'd allow to verbalizing the ache of rejection on his chest. it was the sharpest knife he had every felt, every heartbeat was almost enough to make him sink his hand in there and rip it out.

"no?" it was a raspy whisper belonging to a parched, pathetic man who let his pride fall to the wayside for once. "that's all you gotta say."

"'no', what?" you said, plucking his sunglasses away by one of the arms before settling them into the same pocket with the slither of gum. "they were bothering me. it's nighttime, nick, you don't need them on--"

your back was flush to the van now, cool and hard, a jarring contrast to how hot his body felt slotting against yours. his lips were back on you, this time ravenous and feverish, sloppy and struggling to find a rhythm with you.

and, as your arms weaseled up to wind the back of his neck, he sank deeper into the warmth of your clothes and skin and smell, and felt it all so immensely it made him a little queasy. but, he didn't want it to stop anytime soon.

divider; @/anlian-aishang

reposted from my deleted blog, cardeneiv

#trigun #trigun maximum #trigun stampede #trimax #tristamp #wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x you #wolfwood x y/n #nicolas d wolfwood #nicolas d wolfwood x reader #nicolas d wolfwood x you #nicolas d wolfwood x y/n #nicolas d. wolfwood #trigun imagines #trigun fic #trigun fanfiction #2k writes

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thebellearchives · 1 year

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𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇

~ Nicholas D. Wolfwood ; Trigun Stampede

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : When you and your friends arrive at a new town at night, everyone decides to go to bed, except for you and Wolfwood. Next thing you know, you get involved in a drinking competition with The Punisher.

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader (it is implied they use the women’s restroom), consumption of alcohol and smoking of tobacco, fluff

‧₊˚ a / n : honestly i just adore the way this turned out, it’s a little long though, i got carried away (‘:

You stared into your reflection in the bathroom. You weren’t dizzy, but you could feel the room slightly veer to the left… and then to the right? Squinting, you focused a bit more into the mirror, you really weren’t drunk enough for this. You couldn’t be drunk! Not when you had a stupid brunet to prove wrong back at the barstools. Specially when out of Vash, Meryl, Roberto and you, the only one who wanted to come down to the bar with him instead of going to bed had been the person staring back at you in the reflection.

“Fuck, I’m so stupid, how did I end up in this situation?”

A sudden knock at the door almost made you jump.

“You coming out yet?” an unknown female voice called out.

“Yeah, hold on!” quickly, you dried your hands on your clothes and headed outside. You opened the door, a petite blonde woman stared at you with a mixture of annoyance and concern “sorry!”

She just sighed and hurried into the bathroom, you gathered your courage and started walking back to where you had left Wolfwood. It didn’t take much time to reach the main room of the establishment again, the smell of cigarettes lingered in the air, and so did the lively music that a group of men were playing from the other end of the place.

“You’re finally back! For a moment there I thought you had either puked your insides or chickened out” Nicholas offered you a scornful smirk.

“You’re insane if you think you can beat me so easily” you rolled your eyes comically.

“So you’re perfectly fine” he teased with an incredulous frown and pout, nodding.

“I’m great, I’m sober, and I can take anything you throw at me”

Suddenly, the bartender placed a tray of yet another round of shots in front of you two. The undertaker smiled widely.

“I’m so glad to hear you say that!”

Oh shit.

-0-0-•-0-0-

You weren’t sure how much alcohol you had consumed by then, but if you had to lose your pride and admit defeat you were going to, because you could not handle another round. Holding back a sigh, you watched Wolfwood grab his last shot and arch his arm your way. With a laugh you grabbed your shot and hooked your arm with his. Alright, last one, come on you can do this.

“One, two, three!” you both downed your shots together.

You scrunched your face when the taste filled your senses, the cold liquid burning your throat all the way to your stomach.

“Ugh, god”

Nicholas laughed at you.

“Hey let’s head to the back, I need a cigarette”

“Sure”

Standing up from the bar stool, you almost lost your balance, so you gripped the table nervously and held your breath.

“You good?” your companion raised an eyebrow, but you waved off his concerns when your surroundings seemed to stabilize again.

“Yeah, I’m good” he didn’t seem convinced at all.

“… right, come on, let’s go”

Grabbing your wrist, he pulled you ahead of him and you stumbled, he placed his hand in your lower back to keep you stable and guide you outside. Your face flushed in embarrassment, but clearing your throat you decided to play it cool, focusing on walking as normal as you could and not stumble upon your own feet. The second the brunet opened the back door and you were outside the cool breeze relieved you. It was a clear night, the dunes of the desert were tinted in a somewhat purple shadow, and the deep dark blue of the sky was sprinkled with thousands of small bright stars. You took a deep breath and leaned on the wall next to the door, the undertaker walked just some steps ahead of you and you watched him as he lit up his cigarette. When a bright flame met the end of the cigarette he inhaled and turned off the lighter, sparks lingered in the edge of the paper cylinder until he lowered it and blew the smoke out of his mouth. You watched mesmerized, the wind blowing his dark hair and the lapels of his shirt, which had a few buttons undone. You swallowed on dry air, trying to steer your sight away from the tanned skin of his chest.

“Why are you blushing?” your eyes snapped back to his deep dark eyes “are you drunk or do you see anything you like?”

You rolled your eyes at his playful smirk.

“You’re terrible at guessing games, both answers are wrong”

“Uh-huh, sure. I just watched you stumble all the way here” his chuckle was painfully teasing.

“If that’s the case then you’re drunk, because I absolutely did not”

“Alright, show me” he raised his brows and pointed towards you with his chin, confusing you.

“Show you what?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Show me you can walk in a straight line”

“Fine, i’ll prove you wrong” stubbornly, you walked up next to him and proceeded to walk over the sand as perfectly as you could, counting your steps. When you reached ten steps, you turned around and raised your eyebrows at him. His lips turned into a straight line, and a second later he started laughing.

“Hey! What are you laughing at?!”

“You should’ve seen the way you walked! It’s like you just learned how to do it!”

“Okay then you do it mister stone cold sober!”

He bit the tip of his tongue in derision before taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Watch and learn sweetheart” you pulled a face, mocking him.

Crossing your arms, you watched as he walked away and counted his steps. One, two, three, four, five, a stumble… You snorted, but he ignored it and kept going. He turned around and pretended like he had just done the most graceful catwalk on the planet.

“What the hell was that?!” this time it was your laugh that ringed out in the open.

“What you couldn’t do five seconds ago, clearly”

“You literally just stumbled”

He grimaced and shook his head.

“I absolutely did not” he repeated what you had said earlier, even imitating your tone.

“Wolfwood!”

“Ooh, you used my last name!” an annoying grin shone in his face.

“This is literally what you looked like”

Your eyes fixed on the trail his shoes had left in the sand, you walked over it and counted your steps again. This time, you pretended to stumble on number five. Except that at number five instead of pretending you actually did sprain your ankle.

“Woah!” Nicholas quickly caught you in his arms, your fingers grasping his shoulders. “Listen I may be a bit inebriated but I’m sure that’s not what I looked like.”

Your eyes looked up to meet with his, and when you did you found them just centimeters away from yours. It did not take long for your cheeks to catch a bright peach color and your heartbeat to pick up an accelerated pace, staring into his never ending black pupils that seemed to dilate for a second. He licked his lower lip before showing you that heart-stopping crooked smirk of his.

“I insist, if you do see anything you like you can just let me know”

You gulped.

“Nicholas D. Wolfwood, are you flirting with me?” you attempted to sound teasing, but your voice came out in a whisper.

“What if I was?” You inhaled sharply when you felt his his fingers gripping your waist a bit harder to keep you in place.

“I think I’d like that”

“Yeah?” his eyes flickered to your lips and back.

“Yeah”

Wolfwood didn’t need to hear anything else to close the gap between your mouths and place an intense kiss against your lips. You almost swore the sensation of his lips on yours ignited your chest like he had done with his cigarette just minutes ago, which had now been left forgotten in the sand. Forgotten like everything and everyone else around you. His arms brought you closer to him and your fingers traveled up to the back of his head, where you gripped his black hair passionately. You broke the kiss for a second to grab air, but he immediately took the chance to kiss you again. His tongue explored yours, he tasted like minted tobacco, and if it had been possible to get drunk off it instead of the alcohol that ran in your veins you would’ve gladly taken the chance. This time, he was the one that pulled away from your lips, allowing you to breathe again. The only thing that flashed through your head right then was a silent prayer to remember this kiss the next morning when you woke up.

#; fluffy belle #trigun stampede #trigun #nicholas d wolfwood #nicholas the punisher #wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x y/n #wolfwood x you #nicholas wolfwood #wolfwood imagine #trigun wolfwood #nicholas wolfwood x reader #gn!reader

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tenabrye · 1 year

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Headcanons on how vash and wolfwood (reboot!) would like to be comforted by their crush or s/o! Maybe even what situations/circumstances would lead to them possibly needing/yearning for it? I just know these babies need it fr😭

Thank you for feeding the fandom✨

I just know these men yearn for comfort and deserve it all. Apologies if this seemed a little more on the angsty side with the situations I put them in, especially Wolfwood's. This was also something new I tried, which was a small drabble with headcanons.

warning(s): murder, death, and guilt

Vash

He knows certain things are completely out of his control. That people--humans--get hurt, even die, however, not a day goes by that he wishes he could have done more during those situations. Such are his thoughts on this last incident. Despite being told that it wasn't his fault, Vash still holds guilt over those that perished that day. What started as a wonderful, peaceful day being spent with you was cut short by raiders. The screams from the townspeople as they were cut down still haunt him, and he won't ever be able to erase the images of their deceased bodies from his mind. Despite being able to thwart the raiders and save the remaining townsfolk, you could see how badly it affected him with those he couldn't.

Some thanked him for his bravery with the town while others blamed him, spitting out vile names. He hated that all he could do was apologize, with his brows furrowed and his gaze downwards. His words were met with them yelling how apologies couldn't bring their deceased loved ones back. You followed him back to the room, thinking of what to do to comfort him after this. Vash doesn't initiate things when he's in such a mood, as his mind is clouded with the guilt and harsh sting from the names he was called. You'll have to be the one to take the reins and do it. He won't say anything when you pull him to the bed and sit him down.

Being held in your arms is so nice to him. Just keep your arms secured around him and let him bury his face into your chest or neck. Let him be the little spoon for when it turns into soft cuddling.

He loves it when you talk to him. Whispering sweet and soft nothings into his ear, telling him how people only say harsh words when angry. He knows, but it just makes him feel a little better hearing you say it.

Vash lets out a soft, content sigh when you slip a hand under his shirt, gently dragging your nails down his back in a motion that gives him little goosebumps. It also makes him snuggle into you more.

He melts when you trail kisses from his face and to his jaw, soon moving to his neck. It's nothing spicy, but your kisses are so soft and featherlike that they bring a certain calmness to him that he craves right now.

He will learn to let you know when he wants to be comforted. Soft little looks are an easy tell of his, accompanied with a slight tilt of his head. If that doesn't work, he'll take a hand and gently drag his nails down your exposed flesh. You've grown to learn that this is another way of him wanting some comfort.

Wolfwood

You watched as he took a hit from the cigarette in between his lips. His hands are shoved into his pockets while his head is angled to allow him to look down at the makeshift headstone he created. Nicholas then removed his hands from his pockets, one having removed the smoke and dropping it into the dirt where he snuffed it out with the toe of his shoe. You watched as he prepared himself to say a small prayer as he normally did with the deceased, only to watch as his legs faltered when he lowered himself. He fell back, ass hitting the ground and you watched as his body slumped. His shades fell from his face as his hand took their place. His shoulders gently shook, and you bit your lip as you watched him silently cry.

You knew he was feeling immense guilt over the death of the child he had buried, their death caused by an idiot that Nicholas was quick to fill with holes. The idiot in question was someone Wolfwood let go from a prior altercation, showing mercy in that moment. Though you knew it was solely because you were there. Had you not been, then the undertaker wouldn't have been as merciful. The bullet was meant for Nicholas, he knew that, but he had bent down to give a kid one of the lollipops he carried, only for them to end up taking the bullet instead. His body shifted as he hung his head, as if trying to not let you see the tears that rolled down his cheeks. You frowned and approached him, knowing he needed the comfort.

Wolfwood will sit there, letting you wrap your arms around him in a comforting hug. He's not vocal about liking it, but you can tell with the way his head leans against you.

Run your fingers through his hair. He finds so much comfort and will actually relax more when you do this. You always know he wants you to mess with his hair when he lowers his head towards you. Sometimes he'll be vocal about it, too.

This man melts in your touch when you hold his face in your hands, your thumbs gently rubbing his cheeks. He definitely leans into your hands, loving your gentle touch.

When it's just the two of you in a rented room, he'll sit on the bed while you stand in front of him. His arms will be wrapped around your waist as his face is buried into your side or chest. You often take this moment to run your fingers through his hair for added comfort.

Forehead kisses hit differently when he needs comfort. Honestly, all types of kisses hit differently when he's this soft and vulnerable. To him, every kiss lifts a small bit of guilt he's kept bottled inside over the years. You know he wants one when he taps his cheek or forehead at you.

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miamochi-writes · 11 months

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Always on My Mind

A/N: Hi! Been awhile since I posted Wolfwood x reader. I was inspired by a Wolfwood art piece made by @usuallynana ❤️ Please check out her beautiful work! Hope you enjoy!

You hated that cockiness. You hated that smirk. You hated how smug he was. You hated how he looked at you. You hated how he teased you. You hated him, yet he made you feel things you had never felt before one night. That person was Nicholas D. Wolfwood, who lived rent-free in your mind.

Meeting Wolfwood was a happy accident. The gang was driving past the desert dunes into the next city. All of you were lost in your thoughts until something hit the van. One minute, everyone was panicking about nearly killing a passerby. The next minute, he was fine and walking on his own two feet.

Your first impression of him? A mysterious person that knew how to smooth talk his way out of any situation. He was the kind of person that was nowhere near your type. He lied about being a priest, wore a shit-eating grin, and held many secrets. Plus, he carried this high-tech cross weapon that could annihilate a gigantic sand worm or human life at any moment. Any time you tried to dig any information out of him, he would either reply with vague anecdotes or tease the living daylights out of you.

Whenever you found yourself in sticky situations or fought with pesky enemies, Wolfwood was always there to alleviate or take care of things. Some people can say he was helping you, but the thing was you never asked for his help. You were competent enough to diffuse any fights and beat up some baddies. Despite your efforts, Wolfwood always had to come at you with the nickname he gave you no matter the situation.

“You looked like you needed some help, Your Highness.”

“Careful there, wouldn’t want to see yourself get hurt, Your Highness.”

“On your left, Your Highness!”

Oh how that name irked you. Every. Single. Time. You don’t know where he came up with that nickname for you, but you were far from a spoiled brat. You can fight just like him and Vash with your gun and fists. You made sure everyone was taken care of before even taking care of yourself. So who was he to go around and call you that nickname so matter-of-factly?

Anytime you fought bandits, police, military, sandworms, or anything getting in your way, you made it a point that you were capable of fighting on your own. Sometimes, you would knock out one of the enemies for Wolfwood if he wasn’t careful enough.

“Just thought you needed a hand, Nico~” you told him one day. Oh did that strike a nerve for him. You could see he was red with rage as you laughed at his reaction.

“That’s Wolfwood to you, Your Highness!” he yelled. Sometimes, the teasing between you two would start silly competitions such as “Who could finish the fight faster? How many enemies can you knock out?” Meryl and Vash never heard the end of it with the constant teasing and bickering from you two. It didn’t matter where you two where or who was there with you, but one of you had to had the last word. Eventually, Meryl and Vash would get used to it or they would:

a. Break up the incessant arguing (Vash always resorts to this).

b. Someone will threaten to stop or swerve the van (that someone is always Meryl).

Option B only happened when Wolfwood was fighting recklessly to where he got injured multiple times. When you saw how bad he looked, you ran to his aid immediately once you took care of the men shooting at you. Before you could apply first aid, Wolfwood refused your help. He kept turning you down and said he didn’t need treatment. You two practically yelled at each other until Meryl halted the van. She couldn’t take the fighting anymore, and locked the two of you inside until someone gave in. Eventually, Wolfwood explained why he refused your help when you saw his wounds disappear. He showed you the ampule he took and disclosed a bit of his past to you. You saw his more vulnerable side, and appreciated that there were less secrets between the two of you. From that day on, you held a bit more respect for Wolfwood and the teasing toned down...a little.

~*~ Fast forward to many weeks of fighting and visiting new cities ~*~

Vash and Meryl were resting at the bar after a long day of fighting off bandits and police in the city. Overwhelmed by the loud cheers of drunken men and how stuffy the bar was, you decided to get some fresh air. Welcomed by the cool crisp air, you smiled at the fresh breeze. Plus, the moon looked beautiful tonight. You wanted to take advantage of the scenery, and how peaceful outside was. That was until you picked up the faint smell of smoke. The universe really said you’re not getting 5 minutes of peace. You were about to tell the person to quit smoking until your eyes landed on him.

Despite how dark it was, you could tell it was Wolfwood as he was lighting up his cigarette. The light from his cigarette highlighted Wolfwood’s calloused hands that carried the heaviest weight. Yet, those same hands were delicate enough to protect the fading embers from the night’s cool breeze. Furthermore, that light highlighted and accentuated his facial features. You never knew how well-sculpted Wolfwood’s face and jawline wer until now. The way his dark brown eyes met your e/c eyes gave you goosebumps. Finally, once he realized it was you, he gave you a small smirk that you knew all too well. Anytime you were with him put you in an irritable mood. Yet, the way he looked at you tonight felt different. His gaze made your heart race, and his smirk made your stomach do cartwheels.

“Fancy seeing you here, Your Highness,” he spoke. When did his voice start to sound so sultry and make your cheeks flush? Was this the same Wolfwood you traveled with that Meryl and Vash were familiar with?

“Hey, Earth to Y/n? Are you going to answer me? Or let me guess. Cat got your tongue?” Wolfwood asked as he cocked his eyebrow at you. His smirk grew slightly as he asked you those questions. Your head was spiraling, and you needed to act fast.

“As if! You know how I feel about smoking, and you calling me that nickname. It’s so appalling, I can’t think properly,” you argued and pouted at him.

“There’s that feisty spirit of yours. So what brings you here to join me?” he answered with a hearty chuckle. He then blew the smoke away from you as the cold breeze carried it away.

“First off, it was too stuffy inside the bar. Second, I didn’t know you would be out here. So don’t flatter yourself,” you explained. He chuckled again at your response. He then closed the top of his lighter and put it away in his breast pocket. Since when did he have such defined pe-

‘SNAP OUT OF IT Y/N! WHY ARE YOU LOOKING THERE?!’ you screamed internally.

The more you looked at him, the more disoriented you were with your thoughts. You managed to look away and stare at the moon to gather your thoughts. What in the world was happening to you?

“Hey, Y/n,”

“What?”

“Look at me.”

You don’t know why, but you reluctantly looked at him again to see his hand approaching your face. You panicked at what he was planning to do, but you froze at his touch. His fingertips gently brushed your cheek as you held your breath. You couldn’t look away from his eyes as he was focused looking at you. Finally, he pulled his hand away from you as you exhaled away the tension.

“What was that for?” you asked.

“You had a stray eyelash. Make a wish,” Wolfwood answered with a grin as he held it before you. The way the moonlight shined on Wolfwood left you speechless. You were nervous all because he was trying to remove a stray eyelash on you. What has gotten into you? You shook away your thoughts and blew away the eyelash. At least you managed to do that.

“What did you wish for?” he asked.

“I’m not telling you, or else my wish isn’t coming true,” you replied. Then another cold breeze hit you. You regretted not taking a swig of beer to warm you up before leaving.

“Bet you wish you had something warm,” Wolfwood teased as you scoffed. Then you felt something on your shoulders. You turned around to see Wolfwood smoking but with his button-up only.

“You need it more than I do. Hate to see you catch a cold anyway,” he continued talking as you looked at him. He then started walking past you as he put his arms behind his head.

“I’ll be inside taking a shot before calling it a night. You can keep that for tonight. Just make sure to give it back in the morning ‘kay?” Wolfwood added as he winked at you. You didn’t say anything, but nod your head at him. You could feel your cheeks turn a tinge of red as he continued walking.

“Don’t do something I wouldn’t do Y/n,” he waved off without looking at you. You slowly slid down to the ground once he was gone from your peripheral vision. Your knees were close to your chest as you held onto his clothing. It smelled just like him and cigarettes. Your heart raced at the thought of him.

The way he looked at you. The way his hands carried the Punisher. The way he was always next to you in battle. The way he grinned at you. The way his fingertips touched your cheek. The way he winked at you. The way he spoke to you just now was overwhelming. After being alone in your thoughts, it hit you. Your eyes widened at the realization as your face flushed. Despite no one being around you, you covered your red face with both hands.

“I think I like him,” you said out loud.

@invisible-imaginary

#wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x y/n #wolfwood x you #trigun reboot #trigun fic #trigun stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun wolfwood #wolfwood #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader #trigun x you #trigun x y/n #miamochi writes

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kanasthings · 8 months

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Band-aids - Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Summary: He was never very good at vocalizing his needs, especially when it came to anything of the intimate kind. He'd much rather beat around the bush or simply never ask at all. Thankfully, he has you. And you're always happy to humor him. Content: Fluff. Angst if you squint? GN!Reader. Possible spoilers for Trigun, so don't read if you don't wanna risk it. Poor man is whipped in this one. Word Count: 1,400 Kana's Notes: So, this is the very first time I've ever posted any of my writing on this site. Ever. And I'm too lazy to make a separate account for it, so here ya go. I hope y'all enjoy! I always have so much fun writing for this sad, wet cat of a man. This was also written under about an hour, so if the flow is kinda fast, that's why.

"Come sit. I’ll be back.”

Nicholas, for once, was at a loss for words on what to say. Usually, he’d have a snarky remark to toss around or some kind of silly little joke to chip away at the tension within his body. It helped to distract him from the real feelings that wanted to rise to the surface whenever you did this for him. This time, all he could do was nod as he did as told, sitting down on your bed to wait patiently for you to come back.

When you return with some alcohol wipes and a box of band-aids, you find Nicholas staring out the window, watching the setting sun cast a golden glow against the stained walls that enclosed you both within this quiet moment. You come to sit beside him, dark eyes gazing in your direction. You smile.

“What happened this time?”

You reach out and gently take his larger hands in yours, your thumbs rubbing purposeful lines against the valleys of his knuckles. Your eyes look down to begin inspecting the damage, finding at least one or two little cuts against each finger, some roughly crossing against the lines of his palms, others scratched against the calluses of his fingertips. Small, fleshy cuts and scratches that definitely weren’t there yesterday.

Nicholas turns his gaze towards the covers of your bed. The waring tension he felt was a feeling he deeply hated, but could never outrun.

“S’clumsy. Thas’all.”

His words were as soft as the breath that leaves his lungs as he hears you chuckle at his horrible excuse. You knew. This was the third time in the last three weeks that he’s come with scratches on his fingers. They were deliberate. Intentional. His roundabout way to ask for your affection once more.

He knew you knew. He just didn’t know how to bring it up.

All you give is a hum and a nod, taking his answer before ripping open one of the alcohol wipes to begin cleaning the small cuts.

Like every other time, your touch was gentle. You handled him with the sort of care someone would give to one who was worthy of such a thing. As you gently swiped the white pad over the rough lines of his dark skin, Nicholas recognized that sense of quiet intimacy that he was never familiar with until he had met you. Maybe if he pushed himself to think back far enough to those fleeting, faded memories of his childhood, he could grasp at some semblance of what this was. Before he ever had a gun and an impossible responsibility shoved right into his hands. The very hands you were now tenderly wrapping with band-aids.

His dark eyes finally peer over to look at your work, and he feels a lump form in his throat as he watches you rub soothing circles into his rough palms. His chest tightens, and he brings his attention elsewhere just as quickly.

Nicholas was fighting for his life to keep himself together whilst you gave him tenderness that he felt less than deserving to be on the receiving end of. His jaw is tightened, and he’d hold his breath with the useless hope that would stop the tears that threatened to form.

He mentally curses himself when he feels his hands begin to shake within your hold.

You respond by squeezing them, your fingers delicately tracing the lines of his veins that pushed against his wrists before bringing his hands up, and pressing the bandaged pads of his fingertips against your lips.

Nicholas’ breath hitches in his throat, and he keeps his eyes fixed down.

He couldn’t take it. This was too much.

“Y’don’t gotta do alla that…” He croaks. God, he sounded pathetic.

“I know.”

His eyes snap up to look at you, and he swears that he caught the guise of a halo glowing around the crown of your head as the sunlight peaks through the window.

“Then why do ya keep doin this for me? Why do ya keep goin through the trouble?...”

The words stumble over his tongue before he even realized what he was saying. Regret flashes across his face. You could see it race through his mind just by gazing at his eyes.

He wanted to run. To pull his hands away from yours and put a stop to this little game he created to drag himself out of the cold, thick mud of his life. To ruin this fragile, painfully wonderful good. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, he felt fear rise within his chest as he awaited your answer.

You simply smile for him, pressing small kisses to the inside of his palms before peeking up at him once more.

“Because I love you,” you utter against his skin. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

Incredulous, Nicholas forces out a huff of laughter and shakes his head, letting it gently fall forwards with heat washing over him in benign but firm waves. You bring yourself closer to him, kissing at the muscle of his palm before slowly trailing up his wrist.

The image of his skin staining yours with blood crashes against the looming walls of his mind, cracking his fortress. It’s enough to send him reeling.

“Purity is something that was made to shame you.”

You breathe out. Confident. Forever infallible.

His dark brows press together. He bows his head low, and the waves become stronger.

Please don’t. Don’t say anything else. He was hanging on by a thread and if you uttered one more word, gave him one more reason to be as greedy as he was now, he’d fall apart at the seams. You’d witness how pitiful and alone he was, see how dirty and broken and scared he truly felt. Wretched to his core.

“You don’t need to be pure to be good, Nico.”

You let go of his hands, and the thought that you finally made the good decision to leave him crossed his mind for a split second. He instead feels your hands cup his cheeks and wipe at the tears that had come spilling over his lashes.

Now, Nicholas is gently guided to look up to you. He stares into your eyes and tries to keep himself afloat. He fails, miserably. But how could he not? You, in everything that made you, were the Creator of a universe that Nicholas had given up in finding the key for long, long ago. For years, he watched as others were given the chance to intimately know and study this very thing that bound this world together. He’d witness them all fall and sink down with such peace; such wondrous expressions of awe as they come to be made new by this. It filled him with such a horrible ugliness that slowly coursed through his blood like a poison.

Nicholas made peace with knowing that he would never be able to grab hold of this miracle.

And then you found him.

How could you blame him for failing to breach the surface when you, in your goodness, allowed him to know what this was? To know you?

He bows his head lower, his forehead now brushing against your lap. How pathetic it was for him to cower away from a lie he knew his heart wouldn’t survive from.

You smile, and bring him into your arms.

He sinks into your lap as your hands—ever forgiving and filled with reverence—tangle themselves within dark locks. They smooth over the muscles of his back, cascading over the hills and valleys of his shoulders and gently caress the back of his neck.

“Sorry-” He chokes on his tongue as his hands find purchase at your sides. His fingers twitched back. You press your hands over his and guide them to rest at your hips. “Don’t know why I-”

“Don’t say sorry.” Your voice cuts through whatever he was about to say as you return your hands to play with his hair. “Take up all the space you want.”

In that moment, Nicholas did his best to ignore that foreboding feeling that he was running out of time. It had always been something that grabbed and gnawed at his ankles. He was a dead man walking, and he knew that very well. It was always at the back of his mind. But for once, he lets that thought slip past. He lets it go, and focuses on everything that encompassed you as that cruel God was forced to bear witness to a heaven He could only create within His dreams.

“I’ll be with you. I’ll always patch you up through it all.”

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