#nico wolfwood x you

[daryascurse]

𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘉𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘔𝘦, 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳

Nicholas D. Wolfwood x Reader

“Open up.”

Your lips part. Nick slides the popsicle into your mouth. Your tongue curls, cradling the sudden cold sensation. Nick’s breath is close enough to feel in warm ghosting over your nose, and the moment is frozen for a moment. He drinks you in the same – eyes wavering with each twitch of your lips around the popsicle, the flare of your nostrils as your breath grows thin.

Nick’s grin splits again, too wide for his face. His fingers tense, and he pushes it to the back of your mouth.

Your breath is choked out of you in a moan, your throat cold and closed. The sweet, sticky juice is already beginning to gloss over your lips, threatening to run down your chin.

“You wanna suck? Choke on it?”

ice cream truck driver!Wolfwood for @bastardblvd slimeball town hall event! 🥰 ɴꜱꜰᴡ | ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ ✧ pov : second person, AFAB reader, nongendered pronouns ("sweetheart" used as an endearment) ✧ tags: modern au, smut, smoking, choking, love bites, oraI (fem. receiving), fingering, finger sucking, creampie ✧ word count: ~4.7k ✧ ao3 link ✧ recommended mood playlist: raspberry cake

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It had been your first thought – with a wrinkle of your nose shifting the veil of your sunglasses over your eyes; that there’s no way this is sanitary. Maybe the families at the park know it too, with all the laughter and shrieks contained to the playground. You’re the only one on this part of the field. It’s probably because an ice cream truck shouldn’t smell like smoke.

And any smoke coming from a vehicle is bad, but it’s cigarette smoke.

The man inside the ice cream truck rests his elbows on the counter, chewing the end of a cigarette that burns down slowly, bringing the acrid smell of tobacco through the air with it. You slide your sunglasses down as you step into the shade of the truck’s overhang, and squint up at him. “Should you be doing that around food?”

“Quiet,” he says, barely flitting his glazed-over gaze down over you. “You’ll scare away all my customers.”

The smoke drifting away turns blue in the streams of sunlight. The roll of the ground is hard under your feet, the white walls of the ice cream truck blinding and peppered with faded photographs advertising the wares within.

“Anyway,” he says with a slight cough rolling into the first syllable, “most of it’s prepackaged.”

“Most?”

He pulls the cigarette from his mouth, smacks the back of his hand still holding the stub against a paper sign taped to the sliding window. Fresh fruit smoothies! “Strawberries and stuff in the fridge.”

“Then smoking’s definitely not okay. Haven’t you heard of cross-contamination? Don’t they train you on things like that?”

You don’t know why you’re suddenly pretending to be an expert on food safety, but he seems to enjoy it. At the very least, he’s intrigued.

“’S why I’m smoking over here away from the fridge,” he says, just as fast. He flicks the smoldering cigarette butt down by your feet and grins at you. “Who are you to tell me how to do my job, anyway?”

His smile is white, sharp. His dark bangs are forced flat against his forehead under a jaunty white cap that, just like the rest of the uniform, must be one-size-fits-all. The crisp white short-sleeved button-up shirt pinches at his shoulders, falls too boxy below his moving arms as far as you can see. It has a nametag pinned lopsidedly on it, with a square too narrow and handwriting too thick to fit what he had clearly set out to Sharpie in – NICH must suffice. And all in all, it brings a smile to your own face.

The visual scan, the appreciation of his appearance, has somewhat distracted you from the fact that he’s whipped out another cigarette. The hiss of a lighter is sharp. His lips close around it.

“A concerned consumer,” you say. He eyes you, sharp brows furrowed ever so slightly in careful, focused study.

“Well, concerned consumer, what are you consuming? You want a popsicle? Ice cream bar? Sandwich?”

“What do you recommend?”

He exhales white smoke. “For you?”

There’s a soft musicality in the way he asks the question, the two words singing, dancing into each other. For…you? He looks you up and down. You roll your shoulders, straightening your back without thinking. He slides his jaw as he breaks into another smile. The cigarette rolls between his teeth.

“Fuck the smoothies. I’m running a new special,” He says. He suddenly pulls the cigarette out of his mouth, new as it is, and stubs it into the side of the van before tossing it out to land at your feet. “Come round back, if you want something really good.”

He slides the window shut before you can say anything else. A moment later, grunting metal heaves around the corner of the ice cream truck, and the back door unlatches.

“Are you hiding all the good treats back here?” you say, twisting your lips and tracing your finger over the pasted images of ice cream cones on the door as you step up into the truck. There’s a dalmatian print of what you now realize must be other cigarette stubs and burns along the outer handle.

“I have a secret menu for special customers.”

You surreptitiously shut the door, making a decision without consciously thinking of it. When you turn back, he’s looking at your hand on the latch with an amused expression playing across his face.

It’s a small space, made smaller by his frame echoed in every silver, mirrored surface. Even with strewn paper cups and open canisters of whipped cream, it appears cleaner than you would have imagined. He rests broad hands on counters lining either side of the gutted truck, hunched in the narrow aisle between the chrome freezers. He drums his fingers, the sound dull thuds. He’s broad, taller even than the height difference from the window to the grass seemed.

He’s so hot.

He points to his nametag. “Call me Nicholas. Or Nick,” he says.

“What’s on this special, secret menu, Nick?” you ask.

Nick reaches up with a hand, scratches his forehead where the brim of his hat meets skin and bristling, trapped hair. “You like popsicles?”

You raise your eyebrows. “That’s what you called me in for?”

“Well, it’s your choice,” Nick says, and he turns. He heaves open a door, a blast of icy air puffing into the interior. He rummages for a moment, and you watch the flex of muscle moving in his arm, the crosses of veins prominent. “Orange?”

“Sure.”

You take a step closer. It doesn’t take much than a few more to meet him in the small aisle of the van, the tin, patterned floor shaking slightly. The smell of cigarettes is discernable only from the faint motions of his fingers, tense, white half-moons rising under his nails as he concentrates on rooting through the bin.

He closes the door and looks down at you, as you lean back, nestled nearly on the countertop. You watch, first his fingers as he wrests with the squeaky white wrapping, then up to his face – the automatic expression of slight concentration, the relaxing of his features as he succeeds and pops the icy treat free, sliding the wrapper off. He tosses it to the counter behind him; it catches on the air, floats to the ground instead, ignored.

You jerk your chin up. Nick turns the wooden stick in his fingers. You begin to extend your hand for it, but he speaks first, in a voice that comes softer than the banter. Softer, deeper. Dangerous.

“Open up.”

Enticing.

Your lips part. Nick slides the popsicle into your mouth. Your tongue curls, cradling the sudden cold sensation. Nick’s breath is close enough to feel in warm ghosting over your nose, and the moment is frozen for a moment. His fingers curl on the wooden stick. Your eyelids feel heavy as you stare at him. The cracks of smile lines webbing silver under his eyes; the stubborn push of stubble under his chin. He drinks you in the same – eyes wavering with each twitch of your lips around the popsicle, the flare of your nostrils as your breath grows thin.

Nick’s grin splits again, too wide for his face. His fingers tense, and he pushes it to the back of your mouth.

Your breath is choked out of you in a moan, your throat cold and closed. The sweet, sticky juice is already beginning to gloss over your lips, threatening to run down your chin.

“You wanna suck? Choke on it?”

You let out a muffled whimper again.

“Which would you prefer?” Nick asks, and his voice groans. “What’s your choice? You wanna take this little popsicle outside and enjoy the day? Or for me to open you up nice and slow right here on the counter?” He pushes the popsicle on your tongue, rolls it. It gags you and you make that strangled sound again.

Nick pulls it out, leaving your teeth to chatter.

You pause a moment, sucking in air, feeling the sugary tack on your lips. Nick swirls the popsicle, licks away a melting droplet.

So, you think, our first kiss is an indirect one.  

“Say it,” he says with a dare. He takes another step. It brings his knee between yours now, and your throat tightens as you tilt your head up to him. The pulse quickens in your neck.

“Nice and slow?” you say, and your voice cracks into ice. “What if I want it a little rougher?”

“Oh?” Nick asks, and you don’t know where the popsicle goes, you don’t care if he’s thrown it to the ground again, because your eyes are closed and his lips are on yours, dissolving the melting syrup. His hands are on your hips, and your hips are twisting in turn; in the sudden fog of lust, you’re not sure if you’ve boosted yourself on the counter or if he’s lifted you. But he’s on a closer level to you now, your fingernails skating over the stubble of his jaw on your way to throw your hands over his shoulders.

The tart bursts of orange lingering at the inside of your cheeks clashes with the musk of his taste, the earthy tobacco smacking with each kiss. Your knees part wider for his body stepping closer as his tongue slips into your mouth. With your eyes closed, it feels like falling, the oxygen taken straight from your lips to his, your head spinning with the remnant of the smoke, the soft work of his tongue against yours.

“Oh.”

Your thigh muscles tighten and shake. Even in the chill of the truck, something warm begins to settle down through you, and your grasp across Nick is shifting, faster. A hand at his arm before you realized it, the other still pressing through his thick hair to cradle the back of his neck. You’ve knocked that silly cap off, and he grabs at your waist in fervent agreement. As much as Nick holds your tense body into his, you pull him into you, even as the kisses begin to leave your mouth stale and dry with the remnants of smoke.

“I can still taste it,” Nick whispers, his tongue almost licking your still-parted lips with the words laced with nicotine, with orange sugar. He kisses the corner of your mouth and straightens up, pulls away, leaves you breathless as you open your eyes to drink him in again. His hands anchor on the counter, and you swear you can begin to feel it shift backwards with his strength. “But I want to taste something else.”

Nick’s hands move again. The pressure of your clothes, suddenly so palpable, unbearable over eager skin, releases as he unfastens your pants. Your hips roll almost desperately as he slips you nearly bare from the waist down, and the thought comes again as you tremble on the counter with only the thin fabric of your panties keeping you from the cold steel. “This is so unsanitary.”

It’s hard to sound assertive with strong, nimble fingers undressing you, and your sentence breaks into a gasp. Nick raises those thick brows at you as he sinks, barely able to kneel in the narrow aisle as he eases off your shoes, rolls off your pants. “What, are you gonna report me?”

You grin. It’s ruined by the drop of your mouth, the slack of your jaw as your voice keens into another “oh!” as Nick kisses your soft inner thighs, bracing his hands so lightly against your legs as he coaxes slight adjustments of your leg. Saliva cools across your skin, the warmth of his lower lip dragging as his mouth opens wider.

“Ah!”

The bite doesn’t hurt, really, but his teeth run along you lower, closer to the trembling heat below your panties. Nick gives another biting, sucking kiss. His other hand moves up your thigh with a softer touch than his lips.

He reaches the band of your panties and brushes against the fabric. You can feel the turn of his wrist as it allows him a better grab at the cloth, a better touch of your skin below, and you let out a sound closer to a hiss as he spreads his fingers to cup and shape your cunt perfectly through the panties.

“Nick – ”

His name is heavy on your tongue, your skin somehow feeling cool right between his touch, right where the side of his fingers pinch together.

“I like hearing you say my name,” Nick says softly. His breath is hot, closer and closer on your thigh. He rocks his fingers and pushes into you. The nerves sing under your tense muscles. And finally, with another exhale, his mouth sets.

It’s another kiss at first, open-mouthed and heavy over your underpants, but when he moves his tongue over the fabric it’s with a harder urgency. He flattens his tongue, saliva seeping through the cloth to meeting slick and push it back to you. The barrier is so rough, leaving you even more sensitive below it. You moan again when Nick’s tongue retreats, moving higher, harder, up. He flicks right between the groove that’s now so perfectly shaped beneath the damp panties, teasing your clit.

You reach forward, skating your hands through his hair, thick and shining like nylon. His busy hand pinches against you in response. It’s all heavy at your hips, the sensation teasing you just as much as the ministrations of his mouth.

Nick turns closer to the counter, shifting between your spread legs as he pushes his face into you.

“Take them off,” you hear yourself whine. It’s tauntingly warm, each twist of your body and sway of his lips rubbing the fabric on and off your body, settling with teasing whispers in just barely new locations. He shakes his head in a way that may or may not be a response, but brushes his lips over your cunt.

“Said I didn’t want slow,” you say.

“Be a little patient. I can see you so perfectly,” Nick rasps, and his fingers frame you again, pushing the wet fabric back against your body. “What a pretty, plump pussy.”

You push your hips into the counter and curl your fingers against his scalp, at the back of his head. “Nick,” you say again.

A heavy breath, and his fingers slide harder. He peels the elastic away from your skin, away from your already strained and aching thighs. It lifts from you as he forces your panties to the side. It’s so cold in the air for a moment, and then hot when Nick’s tongue forces past to your bare skin.

“Fuck!”

He laps messily over you, letting the jerk of your hands in response guide his head, the direction of his tongue as it twists and flattens. He eats you out sloppily. You jerk, the back of your knees bending hard into the underside of the counter. You’re grinding into Nick’s face without thinking of it, and the moan that escapes him in return is something uninhibited. It’s raw, gasping for breath, full of a desire that should have fallen from your own lips.

Your hips rock up, and his lips break away. Nick’s fingers flatten under the curve of your thigh and reach, a slight cushion drumming the back of your panties as his thumb strokes back up against the gusset. He presses into the wet fabric and teases it over your skin again. He bends and pushes his fingertip carelessly, almost randomly, along the covering of your slit, index finger drumming down around the back of your thigh.

“Oh, please,” you whimper. Your back arches as you try to write into his touch.

Nick’s finger rolls again, flattens, presses harder. You’re throbbing where his fingers touch you, even if it’s just over the coarse fabric that feels rougher and rougher the wetter it gets. The wetter you make it.

“You’re so messy,” Nick says, almost like a quiet observation. The pressure between your legs slips away as he moves. Your legs ache, knees curving instinctively together again as he rises with an involuntary grunt. He looks down on you with gleaming eyes beneath wild brows, and his half-parted lips are wet.

“Even through your panties,” he continues, and he extends his glistening fingers forward. “See?”

Not necessary for him to ask this time. Your mouth is open, you loll your tongue forward. The pressure of his fingers pushes it against her teeth, and you force your tongue up between the V-shape they make to swirl and turn, licking himself clean of you as your eyes roll up to him. Your cheeks hollow with it, the taste not as sweet as the popsicle, but you let your tongue work harder. The way his eyes gleam down at you only spurs you on. You turn your resting foot against his leg to urge him back, closer.

Nick’s thumb turns under your chin in response, and he leans down. Drool slips from the corner of your mouth when he replaces his hand with his lips on yours. You taste yourself even more than the traces on his fingers, entwined with the eternal earthy remnants of smoke. You reach to clumsily press your palms against his stomach. You can feel, almost to your surprise, strong bands of muscle beneath the cheap thin button-up, and you fumble at the buttons to bid the shirt open.

“Not fair if you still have all this on,” you say, breaking the kiss with words and peppers of little, closed-mouth kisses on his cheek, his jaw, blind as your fingers hunt up to his throat. When the shirt hangs open, you trace them down again, tilting your head back with a grin of your own as you feel the warm curve of his pectoral muscles, the softness below his breastbone where air pockets. And when you free the hem from his waistband and feel for the fastening of the dark slacks, Nick moves down to at long last wrap those strong fingers around the band of your panties and pull them from you. You sigh audibly as the damp fabric peels away, letting go of his own clothes for a moment. His bend of limbs knots into your reaching arms as your hips rock away and back to the counter as he undresses you, panties falling to the floor. He keeps a hand on your thigh, pushing your legs open again.

You groan at the muscle stretch, and it catches in your throat. “Nick,” you say again, softly, letting it linger.

His muscles tense beneath the billow of the open shirt as he forces his pants lower with his free hand, finishing your half-started efforts. The zipper clatters at the underside of the counter as he cants in.

The anticipation is trembling practically out of your body. Your shudders and whimpers are almost lost in the hum of the appliances.

“You want rough?” he says, rasping his words.

“Mmhm…god.”

“No,” Nick says, a slight, sudden dryness as his hand flexes, pushes on your leg. Something smoother, thicker, than his fingers, pushes against your inner thigh. His cock curves as he leans closer. “No God here.”

At that, his hips turn. And you writhe as his cock slides into you, so easily spreading and entering your cunt perfectly oiled with saliva and your arousal. You arch, moan a “fuck!” as he leans forward with a strained, satisfied, Cheshire-cat smile, and goes deeper.

He’s big, so big you can feel your body almost go numb, inner muscles beating at the intrusion – and then softening to make space for him. He sucks in a breath, as if he’s feeling the same shaking tightness.

You groan and curve your hips, the best attempt to roll up and meet him just as he pulls out, and then so deep back in that your mouth falls open with the next moaning breath. You reach forward, tugging plaintively at his shirt, grasping at the fabric to pull him close.

“Oh, oh, please – ”

No banter, no witty talk, nothing but pleading for him with your open body. He pushes, and your hand finds his side, wrapping halfway to his back. Your fingers bend, and he groans as your nails drag down the side of his ribs.

The pressure, the heat that his tongue was building in you rises again, and you jerk your hips pathetically forward. It doesn’t do much to interrupt the build of his pace, but it presses your skin close to his, the warm layer of sweat beginning to rise between your limbs. And the energy that rolls in your veins, shit, it has to go somewhere. You strain to pull him close to you, to bring his mouth down to yours again, but his body is stone, and his determined grip is hard.

You whine, letting your hands dance up again just to drag backdown with raking nails.

“Fuck,” Nick groans, and the guttural, raw tone, sends more through you.

His hand is off your thigh, the press so hard you almost expect a large, palm-shaped bruise to rise in its place. And the push is at your clit, his thumb rubbing busy circles that almost make you sob when you look down, hazy vision fixing on the thick expanse of his fingers working you over as his cock forces you open and swollen.

“Ah!”

Your hand still knotted in his shirt rises to your lips, your tongue lapping over your fingers, the curve of your thumb, and you reach an awkward hand down over spread thighs to surround him. You rub, at the inch of cock that can’t quite fit inside you at this angle, circle down to stroke with soft fingertips at his balls.

“Oh, oh,” Nick says in desperation. “Fuck.”

The words are broken, and you barely can lift your eyes up and away in time for his mouth to meet yours again. His lips are soft, fat, hungry, and you whine into his throat as he fucks you harder, harder.

It’s a brief kiss, because he breaks his head away to rest on your shoulder. His body cages over you, and you move your hands again, both scooped under the open shirt to grab at his back with frantic fingers. His hair has fallen forward, rubbing sweaty, rough, in strands at your neck.

“Oh, Nick – right there,” you say, feeling your voice shake higher and higher. Your instinct is to lean back, fuck your hips higher, but instead you pull him closer and try to curve into him. “Please – don’t stop – ”

“No?”

“No, no, touch me, fuck me, please  - ”

He tosses his head back and his throat muscles are tight, jaw pulsing, as he straightens up over you again. “What makes you think I’ll stop, sweetheart?”

He pulls his tormenting hand away and spits on it. You almost scream when it comes back, sliding faster over your suddenly even more sensitive clit, sore and puffy as he makes you bloom like a rose with split folds.

“You have to cum first.”

And you rock on the counter, the freezers groaning with the bumping shift of the van’s movements. Something clatters down as appliances, spoons, napkins, fall. It doesn’t matter if the ice cream melts around you. What matters is the way your muscles jump, the way friction is burning below your skin, moving faster and faster.

“Oh, oh!”

You close your eyes and cling to him. The force of his grunts with each pump vibrates through his chest. Your thighs are arched high, feet desperately pushing at the back of his legs, not quite high enough to cross and not quite enough strength in you to hook around him tighter. But your hands are hard on his back, his shoulder blades flat between the spread of your fingers.

Nick’s hunched over you. He lifts his hand, pulling it away and leaving you beating, shivering, practically gushing with the pumps of his cock. He cups the side of your face as your eyes roll open, gaze to the ceiling as you writhe.

“Does the roof make you cum?” he asks in jagged breath.

“N-no,” you say automatically.

“Is it god? Who’s fucking you?”

“God, no. You – you.”

He jerks your chin to him. His eyes are fixed, brows sharp, lips pulled back and teeth wet in a half-grin. “Then don’t look up; look at me, look at me, when I make you cum.”

It’s the words that are your undoing, the way they spit harsh from his mouth. The harshness is without cruelty, but with a vigor that’s echoed in the kiss when you lean forward to meet him in wanton agreement.

“Nick,” you breathe into his mouth, and bite his lower lip as you withdraw. “Make me cum – please, make me cum.”

“Wanna cum with you, sweetheart,” Nick says in that grating groan as he moves his hand back to rub in furious circles.

You tense your thighs and feel for it, squirming against the countertop as that friction beats harder. It’s something burning beneath your core, even as he splits you, again, and again, in frantic heat. When his hand stills, you can tell – you can tell in his body, in the focus right at his hips as they begin to buck into you harder, in the sucking of his breath, that he’s as close as you are.

“Nick – I’m gonna – ”

“Oh,” he groans, his words crashing into yours, and you pulse as he lets go. You bury your face in his shoulder and stuff your mouth full of shirt to muffle the scream. With each throb of his cock as he cums in you, it urges the shivers of your miniscule muscles wild. You cum without announcement, almost to your own surprise, and Nick’s hands anchor at the small of your back. He practically sings his moans in your ear as you cum on his cock, his rhythm slowing as yours tenses and stutters.

Somehow, the counter stops rocking.

The silence is cut by two lungs raggedly gasping, the hum of the freezers, the groans of the truck. Far off in the distance, the people in the park keep playing and laughing.

“Fuck,” you say, low, and you find your voice shaking.

“’S right,” Nick says.

He pulls out of you, and you whimper in your throat at the slide, at the warmth, at the ache across your legs.

Bam, bam, bam.

You physically startle, heart leaping into your throat, hands automatically flying to your lap as Nick’s seed beats out of you. Someone’s at the front part of the ice cream truck, knocking on the window. A shadowed hand appears at the glass as they try to look inside past the paper taped on the window.

“Hey,” calls a young man’s voice. “Anyone in here? You guys open?”

“Just a second,” Nick shouts back. He grins down at you as he hoists his pants back up. “Just a customer. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry?” you hiss quietly.

“Can’t see you from here.”

“Nick, you’re not actually going to serve –”

“Kitchen’s down,” he suddenly yells, interrupting you. “Only got the pre-packaged stuff.”

“That’s alright,” they shout in return.

Nick wipes his forehead, pushing back sweat-slicked hair. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

You suck your teeth and raise your eyebrows, trying to suppress a smile.

“Hold tight,” he says, buttoning his shirt. “Let me find my hat, sell an ice cream sandwich, and I’ll be right back.”

You can’t hide it when he kisses your cheek, hands busy as he rises to his collar. “Not gonna jump out the window and escape?”

“You think I’d fit through that?” Nick raises those thick brows. “I’m not trying to get anywhere. Not without your name and number first.” He reaches down, fumbles on the floor of the van and comes up with his cap.

You edge slowly off the counter, pins and needles aching in your thighs. He’s already crammed his hat on his head and’s turned, moving towards the window.

“Hey, hey,” you say, whispering as quietly as you can. “Do you – Nick, do you see my panties?”

At first, you think you haven’t gotten his attention. But when he hauls the window open, giving that cheeky grin to the spiky blonde-haired man you can barely see standing below with a “what can I get for you?” – you can see the wet, crumpled fabric winking at you from his back pocket.

fin

[demaparbat-hp]

I believe July is trying to tell you something, Nico.

[mediocreanomaly]

Good Boy - Hybrid!Wolfwood x Reader (NSFW)

Authors Note: Welcome to Wolfwood Wednesday 2: The Wolfoning (also known as Zero started a drabble thinking he could finish by yesterday and then he didn’t)  Anyways this is what happens when I read too much of @demxnscous post and I’m crediting you even though you said you didn’t need it because I got lot of inspiration from your post. (Also I hope you’re doing better :( sending good vibes ur way) 

You aren’t sure how you got in this situation or- no that was a lie you knew how you got here it was just hard to believe it was actually happening. It started the day your bleeding heart took in a stray. A mutt that looked more wolf than dog who was surprisingly eager to listen to you and what the hell, who doesn’t want scary dog privileges? That was until two months later you had came home from work to find a full grown man laying in your bed rather than your beloved pet. You had screamed until he jumped up startled, when you noticed a familiar set of pointed black ears and fluffy tail. It had been an adjustment to be sure to find they were one in the same and when he had hung his head low, ears drooping you couldn’t kick him out, you couldn’t because...he was still your Nico, right?

Then things got complicated. Nico still had a lot of his animal habits, whether that was normal for hybrids or based on the fact he had stayed in dog form so long you didn’t know but he was always there. At your heels, hovering, sitting by your feet trying to make himself look small, laying his head in your lap, nosing along your throat, along your belly. Half the time you were sure he didn’t know what he was doing to you always being this close. It didn’t help he was attractive, the kind of man you were sure wouldn’t give you the time of day had circumstances been any different and yet he was always trailing you desperate to be good. 

Maybe that was your real undoing, that look he gave you when you could tell he was trying so hard to obey, to listen, to please you no matter what, to behave. Maybe you were the real animal because it made something in your brain light up, made your knees weak and your tongue feel to big in your mouth.

Then...there was today. Today when you came home from work early to find Nico nude on your bed, used panties in his hand as he inhaled your scent, pillow tucked between his legs as he humped with abandon, chasing after his high with your name on his lips. You should have closed the door, left and pretended you never saw him but you couldn’t deny the rush of heat that blossomed between your legs at the sight.

When he had seen you he had been startled, instantly ashamed, ears flatting and a whine in his tone as he apologized, waiting for you to scold him or finally kick him to the curb. What he hadn’t expected was you climbing into his lap, gently kissing at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s okay... is my poor Nico in rut?” you mummer, it’s a little embarrassing hearing those words come out your mouth but the way Nico’s eyes glaze over with lust and his breath stutters you’re sure you won’t regret it.

He whines and nods, those big brown eyes watching you with something like admiration? No...reverence maybe. Like a righteous man standing at gods feet, but you weren’t god and if your Nico was so eager to worship, who were you to deny? Yet he waits. He’s good like that, he always is.

“Please Nico” you breath out by his ear, pressing a kiss along his jaw for reassurance.

He’s on you in an instant, not rough just eager to please. His calloused hands slide off your clothes with ease, Nico nips along your throat oh so carful not to bite minding his teeth but greedy enough to let himself mark your pretty skin. Because despite the thick black leather collar currently around his neck (the one thing he left on) he needs to know, needs to know he’s yours, that your his, that you don’t need anyone besides him. 

He lays down and before you can ask what he’s doing Nico claws at the fat of your thighs, dragging you up up up to his waiting mouth. You yelp at the action trying to balance yourself on your knees but he doesn’t give you much time to adjust, bullying his head between your thighs, stubble scratching at your skin as he dives in. He gives quick licks against your already wet sex. It’s sloppy at first, the excitement of Nico finally getting what he wants making his thoughts hazy but when you whimper and try to grind down on his face he gets the message pretty quickly.

He grabs at your thighs and brings you down, movements more precise as he laps like a man dying of thirst making you mewl and writhe in pleasure. He makes a pleased hum at the noises he manages to pull from you and the added vibrations only add to the warmth building in your gut. You won’t last like this, you can’t, not when Nico’s doing everything he can to make you fall apart. You feel his soft ears flicker against your thighs and then two of his thick fingers press in curling against your sweet spot. You finish embarrassingly fast, the sensations too much for you to keep up with. You moan trying to move away from Nico’s tongue which keeps moving, overstimulating you pass your release but he doesn’t relent, he’s finally gotten his treat and he isn’t passing up the opportunity. 

When he does finally pull his head from out between your thighs you dumbly think that it’s over when he flips the two of you, letting a firm hand press gently against your back moving you so that you’re face down against the mattress. Doggy style, how original. If you weren’t just as desperate as Nico you might’ve even made a snide comment. That pillow he was humping is placed under your hips now giving you something to grind against while giving Nico the added benefit of your body being angled up, presenting yourself to the man behind you. At this point you’re starting to wonder if he really is in rut. 

Nico presses himself against your back, his warmth and weight both grounding and mind numbing at the same time. He reaches down to swipe his cock along you once, twice, then presses in only barely just the tip and for a second you wonder if he’s trying to tease you until he whines. 

“So pretty...so good, let me make you feel good baby? Please? I’m hurtin for you, didn’t even get to cum earlier want to put it in you so bad, I’m so hard for you” Despite the pure filth pouring from his mouth...it makes your own mouth water. You’ve never been more sure that you’ve needed someone the way you do now, the way he’s begging, strong arms keeping his body weight on top of you. Because of course he was asking first, he was your good boy and even though you can tell it’s taking all his self control not to just take you he has to prove it, has to prove how well he can obey.

“Nico~ be a good boy and fuck me” you breathe 

The control that he was hanging onto snaps.

“fuck- ah, shit so good baby, feels so good” Nico pants in your ear. You want to focus on what he’s saying, really you do, but it’s hard when his warmth is draped over your back, his strong arm around your waist is the only thing currently keeping your shaking legs up as he sinks into you to the hilt.

The stretch is there but your eyes are rolling back in your head at the feeling of being so full. It doesn’t help Nico’s leaking precum like a fountain, making a mess out of both your thighs, was he really this riled up over you?

“Been wantin to do this for so long- shit, s’good sweetheart taking me so good.” he nips at the shell of your ear and yeah you’re going to hell but if you can get Nicholas to fuck you like this a few more times it’ll have been worth it.

His hips set an unrelenting pace right off the bat, yet even now as he mouths along your neck, presses in deep enough to ruin you for anyone else, heavy balls slapping against you with each thrust, he never hurts you. Why would he? He’s good, he’s obedient and he’s yours. He want’s to show you, needs to show you how good he can be, how good he can make you feel.

Noises that sound like a mixture of a growl and and moan spill from his mouth, the metal of his dog tag feels cool against your neck. One arm wraps around your waist, pushing and pulling you along with his motions dragging you down on his cock over and over again. The other glides up your chest then stops once it reaches your chin, holding your head up as he pants in your ear. His hair is getting long, you can feel the ends of his shaggy curls tickling the back of your neck, that and his hot breath fanning against your back. 

You can’t think straight like this, each thrust spilling out more of both your slick. The walls echoing back the perverse sounds of both your moans, sloppy noises of skin meeting sweat slicked skin. Nico’s tail is wagging slightly and you’d think it was cute if he wasn’t fucking you stupid right now. A familiar heat is beginning to curl in your stomach, you roll your eyes back and feel a bit of drool begin to spill down your lips. 

You’re close, god you’re so close and you can tell Nico is too, actually you think he’s been close for awhile now but he’s not going to be satisfied until you are. 

“N-Nico please” you don’t know what you’re begging for but luckily he does, suppose that just goes to show how devoted he is, he knows you better than you know yourself.

He reaches between your thighs and- fuck your dripping, you weren’t sure how you didn’t notice it, maybe you were so distracted with the mess Nico was making you didn’t stop to consider your own. Either way you’d have to change the sheets later.

His fingers press against that sensitive spot that aches and you swear the breath is knocked out of you.  “Nico Nico Nico-” his name falls from your lips like a prayer and he whimpers, thrust getting more frantic more desperate as he tries to pull you to the edge.

“Please angel please, cum on me wanna feel it need you to feel good” this is so far from the cagey stray you brought in but then again...Nico always was so much more gentle with you. He sits at your heels, he nuzzles against your stomach he-

“Fuck Nico I’m gonna cum” you whine 

“Cum fuck- cum please baby need it” Nico pants fingers dipping again to work an orgasm out of you.

And it does. Your orgasm comes crashing into you like a train, a broken sound that you think is a half hearted “Nico” choked off by your own moans. Your legs tremble and Nico’s hand flies down to rip at the sheets as he makes his own desperate noise. It’s animalistic, a deep throaty moan that tampers off into something like a howl. 

He doesn’t stop, thrusting into you as his cock twitches spilling hot cum into until you swear you can taste it. It doesn’t help your body is eagerly reacting to it, walls twitching trying to milk him for all he’s worth, earning you a few more lazy thrust as his release begins to spill out of you from the sheer amount of cum he’s just filled you with. 

You both pant trying to recover, your body is limp under Nico and you aren’t sure you’ll have the strength to leave the bed for the next week with out fucked out you feel.

Nico leans down to nuzzle against your neck and face giving you an apprehensive lick against your cheek. 

“Good?” He ask flashing those puppy dog eyes at you. You know what he really means, “Was I good?” “Did I please you?” “Did it make you feel good?” 

You reach up to lazily scratch against his mop of black hair and around those fluffy ears. You’re rewarded with the feeling of Nico’s tail wagging keenly.

“Yeah...you’re my good boy Nico” you hum tracing along his collar, he shivers and you can feel his dick twitch in interest. 

“Insatiable” you huff pushing his face away, he flashes you a smile with those sharp canines and nudges your hand out of the way to nose against your temple.

“You have no idea” 

It seems neither of you are going to be leaving the bed anytime soon. 

[aimfor-theheart]

not sure if you are still doing the game, so don't feel pressured, but how about nicholas & night?? (also hope you are feeling better 😘).

i am still doing it!! and HOW could i turn up my love nicholas??? he's been so heavy on the brain anon you have no idea...

and thank you for the well wishes! i am feeling better today thankfully!!

nicholas + night

you throw your head back and howl up at the heavy, gold moon in the sky. the sound echoes, fills up the entire world, piercing the night.

"what the hell are you doing?" nicholas hisses, grabbing at your shoulders as if he could stop you, but you're laughing like you're crazy now.

a moment later, warbling cries much like your own burst through the night. the wilderness calls back to you.

"isn't that cool?" you laugh, your own smile wolfish, too.

"if you're trying to get us killed–" he growls.

when you throw your head back to the stars to howl again, he's on you in an instant. hand over your mouth, muffling the sound against his palm. you start fighting him, twisting and turning in his hold until–

one misstep sends the two of you down into the sand and you cackle, bright, a firecracker of joy and amusement, as you begin to wrestle with him.

"you little–" nicholas curses, wrestling with you, grabbing for your wrists, twisting until he can get you under him.

belly up and vulnerable.

you're both breathless, hair a mess over your faces. he's got your wrists pinned to the ground and he's got your legs on either side of his narrow waist. your smile is wild and bright. he's scowling something mean down at you.

"learn to live a little, nico," you say with a lopsided smile. the stars are a crown around his head.

"yeah, i'm the one trying to keep us alive." he snaps, fingers squeezing at your wrists.

"but we've gotta have a little fun," you coo, hooking your legs tight and snug around his waist to suddenly throw all of your weight into flipping him onto his back. and now you're perched atop him, forcing his wrists down to the ground yourself.

"brat," he grumbles, but his eyes are hooded, appreciative, maybe a little enamored.

and when you lean down to kiss him in a fierce, biting kiss, he gives in easily, eagerly––as sweet as the summer night.

if only to keep your mouth busy, if only to keep you quiet.

give me a character + time of day (dawn, dusk, midnight, etc.) and i'll write a small blurb!!

[rush-the-stars]

undone

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

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.

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

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?”

[novasintheroom]

066. Irritate

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 1.4k

♡ Warnings - Vash being annoying, he pinches your butt once

♡ Description: Vash is in a mood today, and you have to take the brunt of it.

Now part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

Vash is in a mood today.

The others don’t see it. How could they? They’ve only known him for four months.

You, however, have almost seventy years of knowing him.

And you’re on your toes.

It starts in the morning when everyone is still waking up. The light of dawn is gray, casting silver sands across the horizon. Meryl and Millie are packing up their sleeping bags, while Wolfwood putters around with Vash, loading up the heavier equipment. Quiet chatter or grumbles is all anyone can muster.

You’re kicking sand over the ashes of last night’s fire when Vash comes up behind and wraps his arms around you, resting on your chest. “Hey,” he says. His voice has the croakiness of sleep still in it. He moves your hair to the side of your neck to press a chaste kiss at its base.

You warm at the affection and turn in his hold. You want a real kiss. Lips puckering, you whisper, “Hey,” and go on your tiptoes.

Instead of meeting lips, however, you feel Vash’s mouth close over your nose and blow. The air forces your voice to honk out in surprise, and Vash pulls away with a laugh. You give him a glare. He dances away before you can hit him.

That was innocent enough; he’s done that before. What really tips you off to his mood is when you’re walking through town later in the day.

It starts with one bullet casing in your pocket. Easy enough, you throw it away and continue with your group. But an hour later, you find another bullet casing in that same pocket. You look at it oddly, but again, chalk it up to nothing. Then another appears. And another. At one point, you pull your pockets out and five different bullet casings clink to the ground. The townspeople give you looks for littering their space with your junk. Embarrassed, you look to Vash for moral support. He looks away. You see the smile he’s trying to hide, though, and suddenly, you know it was him.

Little punk.

It escalates. When you go to hold his hand, he takes it and shakes it – every time – like you’re meeting for the first time. “Hello, miss, nice to meet you,” and “woah now, I don’t know you like that” are his go-to responses. He pinches your butt subtly when you’re in the middle of talking to someone, letting out a high squeak that makes the other person pause and look at you strangely. Vash also feigns a strange look, asking “Are you okay?” You can only give him another glare, the heat of the suns having nothing to the heat of your face. A hundred other little annoyances build up throughout the day, and by the end of it, you’re tired of his antics and avoid him like the plague.

The camp is set up in relative quiet. Millie’s talking about her family, with Meryl and Wolfwood halfway listening while getting dinner and a fire going. You’re trying to help, gathering sleeping bags and lean-to tents from the back of the car, when Vash comes up behind you and says, “Lemme take those.”

Your wary look has him acting innocent. “What?’

You slam the trunk closed and whirl on him, sleeping bags in hand. “Don’t ‘what’ me, what are you planning now?”

“I’m not planning anything – “

“Ha! Liar.” You hold the sleeping bags close like a shield. “Go away. Shoo. Go help Nico with the fire or something.”

He blinks. “But I want to help you!”

“Oh I bet you do.” Nose turning up, you march to the camp and start handing out everything.

Meryl gives you a strange look as she takes her bag. “Everything okay?”

You look at her, then roll your eyes. “Vash is Vash,” you simply say.

She nods like she understands. Millie frowns to the side. “Are you and Mister Vash fighting, Miss ______?”

A strange feeling settles in your stomach. The last thing you want is for them to think you’re actually fighting. “Nah,” you say, giving her a reassuring smile, “he’s just playing. He gets like this every once in a while.”

Light of understanding comes to her eyes. “Oh! My ma and pa do that! They’re always playing, poking fun at each other.” She shifts her legs to cross them. “Ma gets so annoyed at Pa, but they still love each other at the end of the day.”

“Yeah, that’s what we do.” You laugh, some of the tension of the day dropping off. Looking across the fire, you spot Vash setting up his own space for sleep tonight. You smile at him, and, when he notices, he smiles back.

Later, you’ve taken up a spot on top of the car. A small booksits on your chest as you read, curled up in a blanket, and stars glimmer overhead. Everything is cooling down, and with it, your temper.

The car shakes suddenly. You peak over your book and see Vash at the back end, climbing up the ladder. His eyes light on you, and your hackles rise. “What’cha doin’?”

You give him a look. “Reading…”

His smile is innocent to the unwary eye. You watch him carefully as climbs the rest of the way up. He shirks off his shoes and socks and coat and crawls under the blanket with you. He does not stop moving, flipping this way and that, bumping your elbows and squishing you further on top of the truck, bullying you into the side bar. You let out displeased grunts but try not to react.

When he finally settles, he’s got you pinned, rolled onto his side with an elbow supporting his head. “Hey,” he greets, and you see the mischief in his eyes.

The smile you give is tense. You only hum at him and pretend to go back to reading.

Slowly, he nestles down next to you. The blanket gets pulled up to his chin. He doesn’t give you any more room, but at least he isn’t doing anything. Your hackles settle after a few minutes, and you continue to read.

His legs shift. Then shift more. And more. His hand creeps out and takes a handful of your shirt. You shoot him a warning look. He blinks back. Then, in one swift motion, he lifts your shirt halfway and digs his feet into your side.

“Vash!” You shriek, and the others look over with wide eyes, “Your feet are freezing!” You squirm and kick to no avail; his blocks-of-ice-for-feet stay rooted to your ribs.

Vash laughs, smooshing his toes into your skin, ignoring the slaps you give his ankles. “Aw, c’mon, mayfly! It’s not that bad!” He hums and closes his eyes with a pleased look. “Nice and warm…”

You snarl and sit up, shoving his feet off you. “You’re such a boy! You irritate me! All day! Annoying little sh–”

 “That’s so mean…why would you say that…” He gives a kicked-puppy look, bottom lip wibbling.

You don’t fall for it. Grabbing his cheeks with one hand, you lean down and press your nose to his. “If you do not keep your filthy little ice nubs to yourself, I’ll throw you in the fire. That’ll warm you up.”

His eyes have a certain sparkle in them. Unrepentant, he gives you a quick peck on your lips. Ooo, he’s in such a mood. Your mouth twitches. He knows just what buttons to push to get a reaction out of you.

In the background, you hear the giggling of Millie, the long-suffering sigh of Meryl. Your cheeks heat, embarrassed. With your own feet, you push Vash away. He lets out an ‘oof’ as you push his stomach in, and he scrabbles against the luggage and roof of the car to stop this assault. “Why,” you say, “are you like this?!”

Still, he smiles. “Because I love you.” And with a great heave, he rolls over your feet and tackles you in a big hug, pinning your arms to the side to keep you from resisting. The air rushes out of your lungs in a wheeze. “My mayfly~” he sings, smooching your cheek.

“Get a room,” Wolfwood calls out.

“Isn’t it nice to see two people so in love, Meryl?” Millie sighs across the fire. “I wish I could find someone to be so comfortable around!”

When you have enough air, you reach around and bite Vash on the cheek. Hard.

Meryl smiles sympathetically amid Vash’s howl of pain. “I dunno if ‘comfortable’ is the right word for this situation, Millie.”

[bendycxmet]

Sleep Date—Vash the Stampede

Summary: Most of your and Vash's dates consist of getting cozy beneath the covers.

Word Count: ~1.2k

Content: fluff, cuddling, slight angst on Vash's side but nothing cuddling can't fix

Pairing: gn!reader x Vash the Stampede

Several rhythmic knocks echo into your living space, eyes lifting from your TV in your room. Instantly recognizing your and Vash’s shared knock pattern, you jog to the door. Living in Julai isn’t always the safest, so Vash came up with a way that you know it’s him at the door whenever he comes over. 

A second barely passes by between you opening the door and him launching himself at you, engulfing you in a hug. You can tell from the soft texture tickling your nose that he is wearing your favorite red hoodie of his. You plan on stealing it later.

“Well hello to you too lover,” you tease, head burying into his chest to inhale the very unique scent that is clearly him. 

“Couldn’t help myself. It’s been too long.” He waddles you backward, closing the door with his foot and reaching back to lock it. With how often he’s over, this is second nature to him. Your safety stays on his mind.

He continues waddling you back into your room, swinging you around so he’s the one to fall onto your bed first. Hugging him isn't enough. Your hands inch their way underneath his expansive hoodie to seek out his warm skin. You mentally cheer when you feel an instant connection to his skin beneath your fingertips, seeing he decided to come dressed simply in his sweatpants and hoodie, with no shirt underneath. Gotta love your boyfriend for knowing exactly what he wants when he comes over–as much skin-to-skin contact time he can get with you. Leaning back with an idea, Vash whines at the loss of your soothing skin on his, quieting with a blush to his cheeks as he sees you take your sweatshirt off.

Returning to his side, you burrow your way under his hoodie, popping out from his neckline to nuzzle further into his neck. Vash hisses.

“Mayfly you need to turn on your heater once and a while. It gets real cold at night. Your nose is freezing!” At the feeling of your arms wrapping around his torso, he reciprocates the movement. 

“Why need a heater when I have one now?” You poke his side. “You come over six out of the seven days a week. You should leave your apartment lease and just come live with me.”

“That would be nice, but Nico would bite my head off. He claims he’s strapped for money and needs a roommate to split the rent. But he’s always out at that one bar…”

“Well, looks like Wolfwood and I will be sharing a roomie.”

Vash reaches beneath his hoodie, fingers rubbing along your spine, lightly grazing his nails. Goosebumps rise on your skin, a shudder running through your body at the feeling before relaxing back into his caresses. Humming, you close your eyes, finally indulging in Vash’s love after a long day. It doesn’t get better than this. 

“You know the reason why I wear this hoodie every time I come over for the night?”

“Because you know it's my favorite~ plus it looks good on you. The color suits you.”

He hums. “It looks better on you when you have nothing on- hey!” you pinch his sides, ending his teasing. He exhales through his nose, collecting his thoughts, before continuing. 

“I wear it because it's stretched enough to fit us both. I don't even see it as mine anymore. It smells like me and you whenever I put it on.” You look up slowly, seeing his eyes focused on the screen behind you. Anytime Vash admits a tiny secret of his, one where he is obviously vulnerable and open with you, he finds it hard to maintain eye contact with you. He loves looking at you, taking in every curve and angle that makes up the face of the one he loves most in this lifetime. But seeing the way you look at him, with complete devotion and ardor, it's enough to make the man drop to his knees. It's hard to handle. 

You love it when Vash gets to be open like this. You love knowing he confides his feelings to you, even the ones he’s used to bottling up, especially ones connected to his past. Running all his life has led Vash to have trouble admitting any type of feelings. He was always forced to keep a smile on his face to hide any anger, sadness, frustration. Any sort of emotion that could lead the people around him to believe that he can live up to his nickname if pushed to extremes. You avert your eyes, giving a slight squeeze to his backside to let him know you’re listening. To give him time and space to confess what’s on his mind.

“I love that we can share moments like this all the time, but I wanna be able to feel you in these moments. Being able to physically touch you…it’s a privilege, Mayfly. I never had this before. I couldn’t, with how often danger followed me. I can’t imagine putting you in front of any bullets meant for.”

You sense his mind is taking a dark turn. In an attempt to pull him back to you, you recall one part of the sentence to him.

“Physical touch…hm. So that’s why you hardly ever wear shirts under your hoodies…”

He brings his hands up to cover his face, Vash’s muffled groaning sounding from beneath them.

“Sheesh, am I that obvious? Can’t fault a guy for wanting to touch his angel.”

It's your turn to groan. “Cheesy bastard…” you tease. It's your way of calming the fierce love blooming in your chest, shoving your face into the crook of his neck. Several beats of silence pass. Suspicious, you peek at him. He seems to be “watching” the movie. 

“...Vash.” you deadpan. His nose twitches, before he opens his eyes back up to watch the movie.

“Oh I like this scene coming up-”

“You liar! You fell asleep! I felt your breathing change.”

“Not true… I was just resting my eyes for a couple of seconds.” A fit of chuckles overtakes you both before you two burst out laughing. 

“I've been in a relationship long enough with you that I know exactly when you fall asleep. You can't lie to me.” His arms tighten around you before rolling you over, smothering you. You continue giggling as he lays a path of kisses up your neck to your face. 

“Can't hide anything from you! Plus, you're all warm now,” he sighs, ceasing his attack on you so that he lies his head down next to yours, content with feeling your heartbeat sync with his own, fully feeling connected with you.

“Vash, as much as I love our cuddling, I'm running out of air,” you wheeze.

Without a word, he rolls you two onto your sides, so that you can still stay cuddling chest to chest. You slump into the comfort of your pillow and his arms, closing your eyes as Vash intertwines your legs, pulling you impossibly closer. Your leg rests on his hip, finally hearing Vash’s evened and spaced out breathing hit your neck. Smiling, you lift the blanket over the two of you. 

a/n: oh to cuddle with vash...cries. part two will be out soon for this piece. it might get a lil...steamy. i'll link it here when i put it out! enjoy! muah x

masterlist

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[beanibon]

Hi 👋 can i request a smutty wolfwood x fem reader, where after everything him and his s/o finally retire and decide to take care of the orphanage. And seeing his s/o be amazing with the kids makes him go brrrr and think of how great she'll be as a mother and then....breeding kink? 🤣

GIVE THIS MAN ALL THE CHILDREN, WE ALL KNOW HE'LL BE THE BEST DAD IN THE WORLD!

TW: smut, breeding kink, mentioned oral (f!receiving), marking, doggy style (good breeding position tbh), overstimulation.

It had been several years now, peace finally entering Nicholas's life. Even if it did still feel odd.

But with all that said and done, alongside side the only woman he'd ever truly love, Nicholas took over the Hope Land's Orphanage. Protecting the children, and making sure none of them would ever go through what he had.

Another thing Wolfwood tried to do was quit smoking, but that proved a lot harder then he thought. Which was why he was currently hiding, a freshly lit cigarette between his dry lips, that bitter taste inhaled into his lungs.

He knew you'd kill him the moment he was caught, reprimanding him after he swore he'd stop. Yet maybe that's why he denied fully quitting, your face scrunched up in anger was always so adorable, how could he possibly get enough.

"Mieko that's a beautiful drawing, we'll hang it up on the wall later on." Nicholas peeked around the corner, dark eyes observing the way you kneeled low, admiring one of the children's drawings.

A familiar ache throbbed in his pants, causing Nicholas to grunt in discomfort, yet that saccharine voice dragged him back. Hearing the way you spoke to the children made Nicholas happy beyond a doubt, the way you took to each and every one. Not to mention how the children instantly grew fond of you, clinging to your clothes, begging for attention and constant affection. Hell it made him jealous even.

Yet there was one thing that drove Nicholas absolutely wild, which was the image of you pregnant with his own child.

That very thought had shivers running up and down his spine, another drag of his cigarette in attempts to calm the blood flow to lower regions. Perhaps it was something worth mentioning later when the children were all tucked into bed? It definitely wouldn't hurt.

"What did I tell you about smoking, mister!" Wolfwood straightened, head spun to look at your angry, displeased face.

The children surrounding you were giggling, faux looks of shock through some of them. The sight of children clinging to you had Wolfwood's mind wander, until you leapt forward to snatch the embering cigarette.

"What's the harm in one, sweetheart? Can't let me treat myself?" Nicholas cooed, easily moving the cigarette out of reach as you collided against him.

"You said you'd quit, and that I'm allowed to pester you when you caved!" Another poor attempt of thwarting his addiction.

"Did I say that? Shit I don't remember."

"No swearing in front of the kids!" You scolded, hands placed firmly on your hips. A chorus of voices agreeing, playful and teasing.

"Nico said a bad word!"

"Mister Nichowas stop teasing Mrs Y/N!"

"Geez Kiddos, you aren't gonna stick up for me? I'm the one being denied here, don't wanna stick up for lil old me?" Nicholas teased, earning a charge of children tackling him, allowing you to pluck the cigarette from his fingers.

"I think that answers your question, seems that's another win for me." Stamping out the cigarette, you shooed the children away, helping your disgruntled husband off the ground. Gentle hands dusting off the sand sticking to his clothes, fixing his collar.

"Can we have kids?" He blurted out, eyes trailing down to your stomach.

"We have many kids." You responded patiently, oblivious to what he was suggesting.

"Angel," Nicholas brought your face to his, placing a sweet kiss to those beautiful lips of yours. "I'm meaning our own kids."

Your face flushed red, eyes wide as you considered his proposal. You weren't against the idea, just confused as you thought Nicholas was content with all the children running about the orphanage. Never before considering he'd want his own children.

"Why don't we discuss this further when all the children are in bed, okay?"

The bed creaked dangerously, the sound echoing off the walls had you shushing Nicholas frantically, worried the kids would awaken. Only Wolfwood didn't care, pace quickening.

"Nicholas! The childr-"

"Please Angel, just shaddup for a sec," Nicholas cooed, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he pounded into you roughly. "Gonna impregnate you real good, sweetheart."

Your cunt was already dripping with previous loads of his cum, face pressed into the pillow to muffle your pleas, moans and whimpers. Teeth marks covered the back of your neck, entire back and legs even from when Nicholas was eating you out.

Rough hands squeezed your waist, pulling it back as he thrust his hips forward, the plush of your ass somewhat cushioning his harsh hips slamming into you. Nicholas grunted, breathing irregularly as he faltered yet again.

"Ready for another load of my cum? Gonna make some mini mes?" Those fangs nibbled against your ear, earning some angelic noises from your lips.

Those sweet noises were the cherry on top, hot cum filling you up until you were swollen to the brink. Tongue hanging out as you cried at your final release, stars filling your teary vision.

Chaste kisses were placed along your spine, calloused hands massaging you with more gentleness then their previous rough nature. Nicholas laid you on you side, legs pressed together in attempts to keep his seed inside you, arms wrapping around you.

"You did well, Angel," He praised sweetly, a hand placed upon your stomach. "You look beautiful."

Nicholas couldn't stop imagining you fat with his child, the very idea had him hard yet again. Only this time your tired form smacked his arm, groaning at the idea of being fucked ruthless again.

"Put it away, I'm not dealing with it anymore." You grumbled, Nicholas chuckling at your irritated voice.

"Sorry Y/N, can't help it when you get me so excited." Another smack, this time to his face had him barking in laughter, arms squeezing you close as you whined. "Don't worry, I'm too tired anyways. Think I went overboard..."

"No shit, five rounds without a break in exhausting, if I'm not pregnant then there's something wrong with your cock." You teased, turning to nuzzle into his chest.

Nicholas smiled, holding you close as he pressed a final kiss to the crown of your head, eyes closing as he drifted off to sleep.

"I love you, Angel."

"I love you too, Nico."

[whirlwindimagines]

Hi thereee, can I request a Wolfwood with a s/o who is touch-starved when they're about to sleep plz? 👀

Of course! Here's a short little thing <3

'And the name of the game's just the living'

Nicholas D. Wolfwood x Reader.

“Please.” You begged hands clasped together; you were making sure to do your best puppy dog look. Wolfwood was ignoring you, sitting by the window with a smoke in between his lips. 

You need to use a better tactic it seemed, dropping your hands you join Wolfwoods side you don’t touch him you want to, but you have no idea what was okay and what wasn’t. It was easier when Wolfwood initiated contact, but he was mad at you.

It was justified anger, you knew that and you knew Wolfwood wasn’t really mad at you, but at the person who shot you. But you were fine it was just a graze; he was more upset that you ran out of cover to help him and got shot. 

He bandaged you up in silence after he had yelled at you, and you had done some yelling back. But now you were tired and just wanted to sleep with him beside you. It had been a new thing, a bit of an accident really. Touch was something you were hardly given but craved and when Wolfwood held you that first night so many nights ago you were hooked. 

A part of you said you were pathetic, that you survived this long without a cuddle buddy for sleep, but another part of you felt like you deserved good things, and comfort. You also knew Wolfwood enjoyed it too, he’d never admit he was too tough for that. But when he thought you had fallen asleep, he would pull you closer and run his hands through your hair, it nearly brought you to tears the touch too much but so wanted. 

Hovering over Wolfwood you hear him sigh, he turns his gaze up and catches your own gaze. “I understand why you're upset, it was stupid. But that doesn’t mean I regret it.” You say it sternly to him, he stubs the cigarette out on the windowsill and then stands. You don't back down, he looks like he wants to fight, but then his shoulders drop and he rubs a hand over his face. 

“I'm too tired for this shit.” you jump when he grabs your upper arm and drags you towards the bed, a thrill shoots through you when he pushes you onto said bed. You laugh as you move to lay under the covers, and he joins you. Rolling your eyes when he lays on top of the covers, but you won't complain you're getting what you want in the end. 

Slowly hands still unsure you reach for him, curling into him as you rest your head on his chest. “I'm still mad.” he says it quietly bringing his arm around to wrap around you, “I know, but we're both here don't go down that dark place Nico” you lean into him more, as he doesn’t answer. Just wraps his arms tighter around you. 

Sleep comes easier to you when you’re with Wolfwood, closing your eyes you let out a little sigh. You grin when Wolfwoods hands run through your hair, “You’re such a sap.” You whisper, “And you’re supposed to be sleeping, or should I leave.” You laugh holding onto him tighter, “No I promise I’ll go to sleep.” you tease. 

The nights were truly your favorite thing, you would never know what the next day would bring either danger or something else, but you could find peace in the night in the comfort of his arms.

[fruitsoxs]

drunk vashwood x reader fic where the three start fooling around with eachother. First it starts where Vash and Reader have to kiss (Wolfwood is the initiator) then the dares get more and more extreme until Reader gets fucked by them. love the idea of ​​being used like a slut by both of them ❤️

so this...is longer than i was planning

pairing; vashwood x (GN AFAB)reader warnings; smut, !NSFW MINORS DNI! , hairpulling, choking, cunnilingus, rough fucking, three way, blowjobs, face fucking, use of the word "slut" , drinking , drunk sex , use of {name} word count; 2.7k notes; uhm...so yeah...i made them a bit tipsy - not super drunk btw. also this setting is totally written to be part of this au

It might have been a  bad idea to buy a bunch of flavored vodka to “try” it all out with your roommates. Or maybe it was the best idea you’ve ever had. All you know is that this night will definitely go down in history for you three.

Your reach for the next flavored shot, cheeks red from the alcohol. The movie in the background had been paused a half an hour ago, forgotten due to how much the three of you were talking. You pick up the disposable shot class and press it against your lips. In a second you’ve downed it, the liquid burning your throat. “Peach.” you mumble confidently slamming the glass down.

All three of you are sitting on the floor, you and Vash leaning against the couch behind you while Wolfwood sits with one leg up in front of you. He looks pretty unfazed as far as drinking goes,but you can see a light pink color on his ears. He’s good at hiding it because he’s usually found with a drink in his hand when the three of you decide to venture out. He’s not a party animal by any means, he just can’t get through social situations without being black out drunk. So, he’s probably just hiding it. 

It was your idea. Something you saw on some stupid video and decided you wanted to try out with Vash and Wolfwood. The idea was to buy a bunch of flavored vodka and have you three guess what the flavor is every time you take a shot. It’s supposed to be harder the more you drink, but the almost sickly sweet stuff is pretty easy to taste. The only one you struggled with so far is caramel.

“This game is boring.” Wolfwood hums, leaning forward to rest his chin on his knee. “Well sorry for trying to have a fun Saturday.” You pout flipping him off. “Any better ideas?” You challenge him. He grins, and you suddenly have a feeling that was not the right move to make. He looks much too happy. “I can think of a few.” He sits up and turns to Vash. “Hey blondie, truth or dare or whatever-” He asks. Vash’s eyes widen at the and he stutters out a hesitant “Truth.” 

“Boring.” Wolfwood groans. 

“Let him live Nico!” you chide shaking your head. You pat Vash’s arm and he smiles over at you in appreciation.

Wolfwood sighs and shrugs. “Fine.” he looks like he’s deep in thought as he mulls over his options. His lips lift into a knowing smile at Vash. “What was your first time having sex like?” he asks and Vash turns bright red. “That’s not fair you know about that!” the blonde exclaims. Wolfwood just laughs and motions for him to go on. “If you don’t say it you have to drink.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “When was that a rule?” you ask the room, clearly confused. “I just made it one.” is all Wolfwood says. Vash sighs and rubs his embarrassed face before speaking. “Okay so- It was my first time at a college party. I had never …. You know… and this girl asked me back to her dorm. I thought she was cute, so I went with her. And I uh finished just from her touching me.” He tells the story with a wince. “But that was a long time ago! I’ve improved so much more since then.” He tells you while you laugh.

“Hell yeah you have.” Wolfwood winks, eyes burning into Vash’s. The comment has you shuffling in your seat (or lack thereof) awkwardly. You know that those two definitely have a relationship that’s more than what you can see, but they’ve never really explicitly talked about it in front of you. Maybe they don’t want you to feel left out? Then again, they’ve been a lot more handsy with you lately. Maybe you’re being invited into the mix?

Or you’re just living a fantasy. Who wouldn’t want to be with those two? You knew the moment you moved that it would be difficult to not fall in love with these two idiots. They’re so attractive, and somehow the sweetest people you have ever met (despite how tough and nonchalant Wolfwood likes to act). So yeah, you kind of want to kiss them both. Really bad.

The conversation moves forward when Vash turns to you. “Hey, truth or dare.” You think for a second, but ultimately land on “Dare.” Vash looks like he wasn’t expecting that and sighs. “I’m bad with dares. Ummm..” he thinks for a few minutes while Wolfwood taps his fingers against the ground impatiently. “Go ask for some sugar from door 111.” Vash finally dares and you give him The look. “Vash, it’s 12 am.” you point out, but the man only smiles.

The guy in apartment 111 has been a thorn in your side for a couple months now. Not only does he never stop talking when he sees you, but he’s been trying to get you to go to dinner with him since you moved in. He just doesn’t know how to take a hint. He’s probably not awake, but if he is you can’t imagine how long you’d be stuck out there. So, instead, you grab one of the bottles of vodka and take a swig.

Vash pouts and lets out a small boo while Wolfwood laughs.

From then on the dares and truth continue. The three of you have fun baring your secrets and doing silly things for one another. Wolfwood takes off his shirt per your request (you love his tits okay?) Vash texts his brother a stupid pun that is immediately met with a “I can’t deal with your shit right now, Vash” text. You tell them about your first time. The activity is a lot more fun than what you had planned, and it seems to just keep getting wilder.

Until it comes back to Wolfwood and Vash. The moment Vash says “dare” Wolfwood’s eyes light up with mischief, and he leans back on the floor resting his palms flat against the carpet. “I dare you to kiss {Name}.” and the room goes quiet. You laugh a bit at the awkwardness, expecting Vash to take a drink. He doesn’t. Instead he turns to you, and slowly dives in. He gives you plenty of time to move away if you want, but you don't.

Soon his lips press against yours, and the sickly flavor of the alcohol is all you can taste on his lips. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close as he moves his lips against yours. You can’t help but keep the kiss going, finally getting what you always wanted.  It’s a sloppy kiss, but it feels incredible. When the two of you finally pull away, he’s smiling. 

You don’t even realize Wolfwood has moved closer until he speaks. “Shit.” His cheeks are a little pink, and he’s smiling at the two of you. Vash squeezes your waist and sits back. I dare you to kiss them too” You try to stutter out the fact that he hadn’t even been asked ‘truth or dare’, but Wolfwood’s  lips are on yours before you can get a word out.

His kiss is more demanding. He grabs onto you and lifts you into his lap so you’re straddling him, forcing your lips together with a soft grunt. Lips taking over yours, as he licks and nibbles at your bottom lip. You let out a gasp and his tongue is in your mouth before you can even think. He twirls his tongue around yours before slowly pulling away. 

You’re dazed, and a bit confused by the suddenness of their actions. The dares continue though, giving you no time to really think over what’s happening. “I dare you to take off their shirt.” Wolfwood mumbles, his lips resting against your neck softly. Vash acts immediately, lifting the fabric over your head from behind you. His lips trail across your shoulders, pressing tenderly against the skin. Your eyes are wide, your face red, and breathing hard. You’re having trouble keeping up with what’s still going on. Vash’s light touch completely contradicts Wolfwood’s harsh grip on your hips as he bites at your ear. You think It’s technically vash’s turn to dare, but the two have seen to completely forgotten about that as Vash unhooks your bra. Wolfwood  reaches a hand up and slides the thin fabric the rest of the way down, his eyes on your chest. He smiles and trails a hand up your stomach before grabbing ahold of on of your breasts and squeezing.

You let out a soft moan  and rest your head back against Vash’s shoulder. Vash smiles and tilts his head to kiss your cheek. “So good for us.” he whispers before pulling you into another kiss. As Vash kisses you, Wolfwood continues to play with your breasts. Squeezing, rubbing, and pinching. It draws out the sweetest sounds from your throat. He eventually takes a nipple in between his lips, and you have to pull away from Vash to look at the new feeling.

Your legs squeeze around Wolfwood, and you already know you’re dripping wet. 

Wolfwood grins around your nipple, and bites down gently before pulling away. His hand slides down to the line of your shorts, before going further down to trace against your clothed pussy. Your breath hitches and  your hips jerk up. He holds you down and lets out a husky laugh that travels straight down your body. He’s so hot it’s unfair.

“So excited already. I bet you’ve been waiting for this huh?” he asks as Vash kisses your neck. “Don’t tease them.” Vash mumbles against your skin. Wolfwood eyebrow raises. And he shakes his head. “Fine. Then I dare you to eat em out.” he then snatches you away from Vash, directs you so your back is against his chest, and your legs are spread open. 

Vash turns a bit red, but he looks happy to do as he was asked. He carefully slips your pants off, and smiles as his hands trail back up your legs. His fingers ghost over your cunt, the barrier of your underwear still there. “Soaking through…” he coos, and leans down hooking one arm under your thigh. He presses his face against your pussy, and licks the folds through your underwear softly. Your hips try to buck up again, but he holds you down with the arm wrapped around your leg. He slowly works his tongue up to your clit, and draws circles around it. All the while, Wolfwood is lazily squeezing your breasts as he watches Vash destroy you. You are desperate for more friction, finding that the underwear is too heavy of a barrier. You cry out a moan. “Take them off.” you beg.

Wolfwood laughs and slips a hand under your shin, lifting your head up so his lips can connect with yours. He kisses you roughly, shoving his tongue down your throat as Vash continues to tease your pussy. When Wolfwood pulls away he’s got a devious little smile. “I don’t think it was your turn to dare us sweetheart.” he points out. His next words make you sigh in relief. “But I think we can let it slide this once.”

Vash pulls your underwear to the side, and finally his lips connect with your pussy. He lets out a moan as he slides his tongue between your folds, licking up your wetness. “So good.” He hums as he works his tongue along your vagina. He finally starts licking and sucking at your clit, and you find yourself moaning and reaching down to grab at him. 

Wolfwood’s hands are back on your breast as he whispers praise into your ear. Together, the two work to draw out your first orgasm of the night. Vash’s tongue is insanely talented, and Wolfwood’s voice just does wonders for you. Your body shakes as you near your climax. “I-I’m close.” you moan out, and Vash continues at his deadly pace. “Good. Cum for us sweetheart.” Wolfwood whispers, and you come undone. Vash works you through your orgasm, lapping up all the juices. 

Vash takes his face away just in time for Wolfwood to flip you over onto your hands and knees. Your face is now pressed onto his jeans that are dripping with precum. He Runs a hand through your hair, and grips tightly. You get the message and start hurriedly undoing his tight pants. Behind you, you can hear Vash struggling to do the same to himself.

You manage to undo Wolfwood’s zipper, and he rises to his knees so you can rip his bottoms off. His dick springs out, and you have to hold yourself back from gasping. It’s thick. You mumble something along the lines of “Jesus” and Wolfwood laughs. “There’s no Jesus here.” he grips your head and pulls you forward so your mouth lines up with his cock. You part your lips and stick your tongue out, which earns a soft grunt as he thrusts it into your mouth. You choke and moan at the feeling, running your tongue along his member the best you can as you bob your head back and forth.

Behind you, you feel two fingers probing at your entrance, the slide in and out making you squeeze your eyes shut. The work you open and then pull out,  leaving you feeling empty. They are quickly replaced by something much bigger at your entrance. Your eyes widen, and you try to pull away from Wolfwood. His grip tightens though, and he keeps your mouth wrapped around him as Vash slowly slides himself inside you. You choke and cry out around the tip of Wolfwood’s cock as Vash bottoms out. The two sit there for a moment, getting you use to the feeling before finally Vash begins to move.

As Vash slams his hips against your ass, you let out a moan which makes your throat squeeze around Wolfwood’s dick. He groans and begins to full on face fuck you, holding your head in place as his hips snap against your mouth. The two fuck you senseless, sinful noises echoing through the apartment.

Vash doesn’t speak, but he whines and moans each time he thrusts into you. Wolfwood, on the other hand, lets you know exactly what he’s feeling and thinking. 

“Such a good little slut.” he groans, slamming his dick into your mouth. “Letting us use you like this.” He grips onto your hair a bit tighter. “Your mouth is heavenly. I bet your pussy feels even better though.” You look up at him, and he can’t help but moan when your eyes meet his. “How do they feel, Vash?” he asks looking over to watch as Vash fucks you from behind. 

“So-So good.” Vash responds, barely able to speak. 

You feel so full. They both move in and out at the same speed, making sure that no matter what you are stuffed with one of their dicks. It’s amazingly good, and your body can only handle so much. Your orgasm starts to build as you clench around Vash. You’re almost crying around Wolfwood’s dick at this point. 

“She’s close.” Vash mumbles and Wolfwood nods. “I can tell.” He smiles down at you and grips your hair tight again. “You gonna cum sweetheart? Cum like the little slut you are?” His words are the final nail in the coffin as you let out a scream, cuming around Vash’s cock. He lets out a whimper as loses himself in you, trusting  you rigorously as his cum coats your insides. 

The scene makes Wolfwood’s dick pulsate before he slams against your face one last time, making you choke as he cums down your throat. You cough as he pulls away, face red and lips swollen.

He tilts your head up and smiles at you. “Such a good little slut.”

Vash pulls out, making you whimper and collapse onto the ground.. He disappears and comes back a moment later to wipe down whatever remains. Wolfwood lifts you up onto the couch, and holds you softly in his arms. At some point, a blanket is set on your body. The two of them cuddle up beside you as the movie begins to play again, and shower you in soft kisses throughout the night.

[greetingfromthedead]

Green Horror (Wolfwood x GN!Reader)

Plot: You catch a cold and Wolfwood has a magic remedy you aren't too happy with.

Pairing: Wolfwood x GN!Reader

Raiting: Everyone

Tags: domestic fluff, sickfic, hurt/comfort, flu, common cold, caretaking, banter, play fighting, forceful administration of medicine, some swearing, WW is a little shit

Word count: ~ 1.1k

Author's Note: (H/Cr)appy flu and cold season! A Wolfwood sickfic to match Vash's.

You woke up with a scratchy throat but chose to ignore it completely, certain it would go away on its own. But instead of leaving you alone, the sore throat continued to worsen throughout the day. You keep your talking to a minimum, afraid your voice will be gone before long. You keep a low profile, avoiding Wolfwood and slinking between the kettle and the bed. You really don't want him to know that you're feeling a bit poorly. It's better to just soldier through and hope it passes soon. You'll get better with tea, rest, and willpower; you're sure of it. Just stay quiet, and hope he doesn't notice.

As you settle into bed after getting your fifth cup of tea, you feel the scrathing getting worse. You hurried a little too fast out of the living room, where he was tinkering with something you didn't see. Now you are a bit winded, and the heavy breathing causes your lungs to spasm violently. You try to muffle the sound with your blanket, but it's too late.

"Did I hear you coughing?" Wolfwood's voice sounds from the other room.

"No, you didn't!" you reply, nearly starting another coughing fit.

Footsteps approach, and you see his figure appear in the doorway as you settle into bed, holding the cup and book with as much composure as you can muster. You look over to him with a forced smile. You're not very good at acting natural around him when you have something to hide.

"Really?" He leans against the doorframe and acts nonchalant. "Man, I must be hearing things then. I could have sworn I heard some coughing. I must be wrong."

"Wouldn't be the first time." You turn your gaze to the book again, but you have completely lost where you left off.

"Yeah… Guess my eyes are also playing tricks on me, and you don't actually have a red nose and puffy eyes, Doll."

You can feel his eyes on your skin, and you shift the book to hide your face from him.

"Yeah, you should get them checked, or perhaps go take a nap. You're being delusional." You swallow, but you manage to do it just a little bit wrong, irritating your throat in a way that makes you cough again, and you nearly spill some tea. You quickly cover your mouth with your arm, trying to hide your face from him.

Wolfwood lets out a laugh, and you glare at him.

"I'm glad it's just a cold!" He chuckles with his arms crossed. "I thought you were mad at me! You've been avoiding me all morning! A cold I can deal with. But if you were actually mad at me, I wouldn't know what to do."

He pushes off the doorway to head out, and you know what's coming next.

"No! Nico! Come back!" you yell after him as he disappears. This outburst was too much and leaves you coughing again.

"I will be in a bit! Stay put!" You hear his voice calling out to you, and a shiver runs up your spine.

You put aside your book and sip on your tea, comforting your burning throat. You're halfway done and feel much better by the time Wolfwood comes back, and you see that he is holding something.

"No! Go away!" You try to be commanding, but you see the grin on his face.

"But, love, it's my duty to take care of you. In sickness and in health. Right?" He approaches you, and you see the green liquid in the shotglass he is holding.

"Lucky, we aren't married. Feel free to leave. Don't bring that near me!" You point at his hand holding the mysterious concoction.

"Oh, Poppet, don't be like that." He is unable to mask the amusement in his tone. "I'm here to cure you! It's Miss Melanie's recipe! All the kids in the orphanage got rid of their cold with this magic potion."

"I don't care. I'm not drinking that." You scoot further along the bed after putting away your mug. "It's horrendous!"

"Don't be dramatic, darling," he purrs as he reaches your bed. "It's just a little booster, and you'll be all better."

"I don't need it!" You say a bit nasally, "I just need to drink tea and rest. I'll be better tomorrow!"

"But this will fix you in an hour." A mischievous glint appears in his eyes like a cat hunting a mouse for sport. "Won't you take it willingly?"

You shake your head rabidly. "No thanks. I'll stick to my tea."

Your mind is more sluggish than you realized, since before you can truly react and roll away from him, Wolfwood has already bounced. He left the green horror on the nightstand as he wraps you tighter in the blanket and sits on top of you.

"Piss off!" You try to fight him off, but he catches your arms and tucks them under the blanket that he keeps tightly around you like a straitjacket with his knees. "You little shit! Get off me!"

You feel another fit coming on despite your soothed throat. Wolfwood just laughs and says, "Calm down; it's for your own good."

"Never! I know what an atrocious concoction that is!" You try to wiggle out of your captivity with no results. Wolfwood smirks and reaches for the shotglass. "I'll cough on you! Then you'll be sick too!"

"No worries, Poppet, I'll just drink one of these and be better in no time." He raises the glass like he is cheering you, "Now do me a favor and hold still."

To your surprise, he downs the horrible green liquid himself, but before you realize what is happening, he grabs hold of your face and presses his mouth on yours. As a reflex, your lips part a little for the kiss, but that's your mistake, since the bitter and sour taste of the so called medicine engulfs your tongue as Wolfwood forces it into your mouth. You don't want to taste the horror, so you swallow it quickly.

Wolfwood loosens his grip on your face and pulls away with a satisfied expression.

"Wasn't so bad, was it, baby bird?" he laughs.

"Bleh!" you let out a disgruntled noise and stick your tongue out. "I hate you!"

"I love you too, Doll!" He chuckles and places a gentle kiss on your forehead before getting off you. "You'll be better in an hour, promise!"

And that annoying fucker is right.

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[aimfor-theheart]

cielo,, how does nico react to you shifting around in his lap when you're in public w friends,, if you'd have any ideas,,,

of course i have ideas anon. of course. pls enjoy 💗

pairing: nicholas d. wolfwood x gender neutral reader

cw: sweetheart pet name used, flirting…suggestive…

ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ୨♡୧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ

the night is young and warm and hazy—the moon is a shy curve in the sky, glowing beneath thin clouds that amble by. the stars are dancing and bright, like girls in the night, heavendrunk and giddy.

on the patio of an old dive bar in the middle of nowhere, you sit in nicholas’ lap.

vash and meryl and milly are around the table. their drinks are almost empty—you’re just shy of finishing your own. the card game has just begun. some old one vash likes to play and milly claims she used to play with all her siblings. nicholas knows it because—well, when doesn’t he know a card game?

you and meryl are new to it but meryl has that determined little furrow to her brow. she’s set her jaw. she wants to win.

but you’re in nico’s lap, sitting pretty with your bare legs thrown over his. one arm looped around his neck so you can lean back into him and look at his hand of cards. he claims he’s tryin’ to teach you.

you haven’t been paying enough attention.

it’s a rare night that you really indulge in displays of affection this large, especially around the group, but you’re all a little tipsy and soft-hearted and there had only been four chairs around the table. they’d all taken their seat and nico, without missing a beat, had pulled you right in to his lap. fit you snug against him.

meryl hadn’t even said a peep about it, who usually complains if you get a little overly affectionate in front of her. instead, she’d just kept chatting away to you like nothing had ever happened. like you weren’t perched in nick’s lap with one of his arms looped around your waist.

vash eyes you a little funny from time to time—staring a little too long at you or nico. you catch him once glancing down to nico’s hands on the curve of your waist or softness of your thighs.

you don’t really mind.

“alright, sweetheart, let’s see what we got.” nico says to you, leaning back in his chair so no one can see his cards except you, nestled close to him.

you lay your head against his sternum to look, tucking beneath his chin. his arms are looped around you to fan the cards out for the two of you to see.

seems like a good hand to you—two queens, a jack, and a ten. you don’t say a peep, though, and you feel nico sigh beneath you. he nudges his nose to your temple absentmindedly.

he smells like the faded cologne he wears—grisalva and amber and leather. and a little like the sun, after a long day beneath it. bourbon on his breath. tobacco.

you nuzzle into him—you forget yourself for a moment. you have half a mind to dot little kisses against his jaw, maybe a little nip of your teeth—

“what card should we put down?” he murmurs, voice rumbling and low. you can feel it vibrate in his chest.

you squirm a little and sluggishly return your focus to the cards.

you eye them. then eye the card meryl put down.

you tap one of the queens.

“good call,” he says and leans forward, jostling you a little to put it down on the table.

“damn,” vash says and he’s got a flush on his face. you think it’s from the drink—he’s got the same drink as nico. something strong and stiff—milly does, too. she likes to keep up with the boys. “i’ve got a shit hand.” he laughs, nudging down a four.

you and meryl have something a little sweeter—peach and honey and liquor.

you don’t really know how the game is going.

when the round is over and nico throws down his cards, the table groans.

“i really thought i had him!” meryl cries.

“you’ll get him next time, meryl!” milly encourages, sliding the cards into her hands, collecting them all.

“hard to beat him this round.” vash agrees, looking at you.

with nico’s hands free, he squeezes your thigh, your waist. “got my lucky charm right here.”

vash’s eyes flicker. you squirm. vash quickly takes a sip of his drink, averting his attention.

“meryl, if you want, i can start cheatin’ for you.”

nico bounces his knees a little, jostling you, “you’d betray me like that?”

he hitches his chin over your shoulder to rub his stubbly cheek against your own. you can’t help but laugh a little, the soft, high way you do when it’s just you and nico. giggly and sweet.

“you always win card games.” you reply, “i’m rooting for meryl this time.”

he nudges his nose against your jaw and—

you wanna kiss him. you wanna turn in his arms and straddle his waist and you wanna—

your hips shift a little. his hand squeezes your thigh. maybe in warning.

“while i appreciate the support, i need to win fair and square.” meryl announces and the flush in her face, all rosy, is certainly from the drink. she hardly pays you or nico any mind.

“atta girl, meryl!” milly says, beginning to deal the cards again.

nico’s got his arms around you again to hold up the cards. you’re not really thinking of much except that he’s so big and solid beneath you and you wish his hands would do something else than hold some cards.

he has some rings on his fingers and you eye them.

you squirm again, imagining those fingers between your legs or in your mouth or—

this time, he rumbles in your ear, low and soft and just for you, “sit still.”

which only makes you want to move more.

he hums as he looks at his cards.

you have half a mind to purr, to wrap your arms around him and just melt into his embrace, let him have you whatever way he wants. and though nico can be a brute, he tries not to react to the way you shift again.

the game unfolds.

you try to stay patient but it’s proving difficult.

your hips shift fractionally, an aborted little rock, and you feel—

you feel that he’s hard and.

heat rushes through you, cracks through you like a lightning strike to an old, dry tree. and—

and you want more.

“how much longer until the game is over?” you try for casualness. nico huffs.

“probably a half hour or so,” milly says and then she looks dead at you and asks very cheerfully, “why? in a rush?”

vash coughs into his drink.

you feel heat rush to your face. “no!” you reply quickly, “i’m just gettin’ tired.”

“poor baby,” meryl mocks, “i better hurry up and win then.”

nico remains strangely silent. but when you shift again, he grabs your waist tight. he stills you. he doesn’t let you move like that again.

he finishes his drink—he tosses down his cards.

meryl shouts, cheering. she’s won finally and with it, the whole game.

“good play, stryfe.” nico grunts, “you caught on fast.”

“that’s what i do!” she boasts, clinking her glass with milly’s, then vash’s. then yours.

“and now you’re free to go—“ meryl looks at the pair of you and she flusters a little finally, “uh—sleep.”

vash laughs and milly chimes in, “beauty rest is important, after all.”

“yeah, yeah,” nico waves them off, “i need a smoke. and to sleep.” he says, more to you, as he urges you up with a little tap to your thigh. you hop up.

you bid your friends goodnight, downing the rest of your drink, before skipping a little to catch up to nico. the moment you’re beside him, his big hand comes down on the nape of your neck, and he pulls you in close.

you cozy up to him.

“you think you’re cute?” nico asks, leaning down a little, “squirming in my lap the whole damn night?”

“couldn’t help it,” you try to shrug, smiling up at him with a little too much innocence, “was feeling antsy.”

“you’re a brat.” he says, “you need better manners, sweetheart. i was enjoying myself.”

“oh i know,” you say, “i felt that—“

he swats your bottom and you yelp his name, scandalized and quickly glancing behind you to see if anyone saw. no one in sight. he guides you back to your room.

“maybe i’ll teach you some, huh?” he asks but he’s not really asking. you feel warmth hit your face. you peak up at him.

he squeezes the nape of your neck as his dark eyes find yours.

a fissure of heat, like lightning bursting across the sky.

“maybe a lesson in patience.” he says and though his tone is light, you hear the barb in it somewhere, catch the flash of his teeth when he smiles at you.

your stomach flips.

you have a feeling you’re in for a long night.

[novasintheroom]

hiii ✧⁠*⁠。

could i request a scenario w wolfwood (trimax coding if possible) and reader in an established relationship, using kiss prompt 13 from dialogue list 1? thank u heehee 🩷

Absolutely! I'm not familiar w/ trimax really, so I hope this still came out alright!

Lipstick Kisses

♡ Pairing - Wolfwood x Reader

♡ Word count - 1k

♡ Warnings - slight make-out session

♡ Description: Nico complains about your lipstick. He doesn't mean it, though.

The floorboards beat with the strumming of guitars and drums. People stamp their feet, dancing with each other and their drinks. It’s bright in the bar. Lively. The whole town is celebrating another close call from bandits. It was a hard-won victory, thanks to Vash the Stampede and his friends.

The Stampede himself is at the bar, tie magically around his head and babbling happily. Meryl and Millie watch from a nearby table, murmuring to themselves and enjoying their own drinks. They don’t wonder too much about where their other two friends are. You’re usually around somewhere, just out of sight.

Of course, you and Nico had secreted yourselves nearby, in one of the bar’s small hallways. The perfect place for a little lovin’.

“You’re gonna get lipstick all over me,” Nico grumps, but still stretches to let your lips find another spot on his skin.

You hum, leaning back to admire your work. A patchwork of lips decorates his neck, his jaw. “Not all over you,” you tease. You rub at a lip mark, dark red-turned-purple smearing in the dim lighting. “Just the parts I can see.”

“Well if you want to get it all over me, we could find a room and – oof.” Your hit doesn’t actually wind him, but he takes the hint. He smiles at your glare.

You smile back after a moment. “You’re awful.”

He pulls you close again and leans down for a kiss. Your lips meld together, sweet and endearing. It’s hard to have moments like this alone nowadays. Too many eyes, too many whispers. But tonight is a celebration of another close call. It’s time to indulge.

Your lips wander again. You feel his Adam’s Apple bounce with his swallow, his stubble grazing your cheeks as you reach for his ear. It’s easy to kiss him. Easy to love him. You press another red kiss to his earlobe and whisper. You aren’t even sure what, but it brings goosebumps to his skin. He tries to do the same to you – bending down to press a kiss to the groove of your neck. It tickles, and you laugh. Nico lets out his own breathy laugh, cut off to a low groan when you kiss his throat again.

“Princessa…” he warns, but you keep kissing. You want to mark him up, see nothing but your lip stains on his skin. Not a patch of natural color in sight. But Nico knows where this could lead, and he isn’t about to let you go so far. So he grabs your chin and hefts your lips to his again, pressing once, twice, three times before melding perfectly again to a sweet, long kiss.

You’re breathless when he pulls back. He isn’t much better. He leans his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath through his nose. “What you do to me…”

You giggle and press your nose to his.

A waitress suddenly opens the door and moves through the hall. She only glances at you two, eyes sliding over you like water before she’s gone again, into the backroom. She must be used to scenes like yours.

You, however, are not, and your face is flushed at being caught. You bury your face in his chest and shake your head. You want to leave now. Go back to the party. “That’s so embarrassing…”

Your man snickers and says, “Hey,” softly. You look up at him, pouting, but unable to hold it when you see again just how many lipstick marks you’ve left over his face. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he says. Nico laughs and pats your cheek. “S’a good color on you.”

You punch him in the shoulder and he laughs. “Not as good as the lipstick color on you,” you shoot back. You’re pleased to see the red rise to his cheeks.

“Alright, alright,” he pulls out a handkerchief from one of his jacket pockets and gives it to you. “Help me clean up, will you?” He mutters something about getting back to the party, anyway. The moment is gone, and it’s time to move forward.

You take your time wiping the makeup off. Each one needs a bit of good scrubbing. You’ll have to get this lipstick brand again – it really stays on well. Nico is patient, letting you wipe and re-wipe several areas, dampening the handkerchief with your spit to help the stubborn ones. He watches you stick your tongue out, concentrating on every little bit. It’s hard to not kiss you when you look like that. When you’re finally satisfied with your work, you step back and give him a once over. “Okay…I think you’re clean.”

He reaches out and wipes away a smear of lipstick on the side of your mouth. He smiles and pecks you on the lips. “Thanks, doll.”

The bar is bright when you come out of the doorway. People nod at you two, some giving winks and knowing smirks. You squeeze Nico’s hand before flitting away to the bar to get you two the drinks you want. He watches for a moment before finding his way to Millie and Meryl nearby.

“Well, you two seem to be having fun,” Meryl quips.

Nico pauses for a split second before lowering himself in a seat. “What do you mean? We just went for a little walk.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Millie is staring at a spot on Nico’s neck. “Gosh, Mister Wolfwood, if you went for a walk, it must have been a very loving one, what with that lipstick on you!”

Nico feels a blush creep up his neck. He slaps a hand where he sees Millie’s eyes and rubs. Red lipstick smears onto his fingers. You’d missed one on purpose. He looks at you at the bar. You turn away with a quick smile. Caught red-handed.

Meryl and Millie laugh at his plight while he grumbles about you being blind. Still, his heart hammers at how blatantly you made your mark for everyone to see.

Oh, he’d get you for this later.

[bendycxmet]

Crowd—Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Summary: You watch as Wolfwood tries to find you in a crowd.

Word Count: ~1.5k

Pairing: gn!reader x Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Content: down bad reader and Wolfwood, mainly fluff, gets a lil cheesy but oh whale

A long day of traveling calls for a long lunch break, you and Wolfwood decide. Tucking yourselves into a restaurant at the edge of town, Wolfwood lets a low whistle out at the populated cafe.

“Just our luck to pick possibly the most popular restaurant in town when we’re starving.”

Your stomach grumbles aggressively at the smell of fresh food wafting in from the kitchen. Your nose twitches. Ahh, grilled Tomas. You cast your eyes to the menu hanging from the wall, immediately honing in on the longest description. You wanted something filling as a reward for the amount of steps you’ve accumulated for the day.

“Mind ordering me the Tomas Special? Gril-”

“Grilled with a side of hot sauce. Want some fruit juice too?” Wolfwood finishes. You smile at his thoughtfulness, nodding. 

“Exactly that. You already know me.” You pinch his side, Wolfwood yelping and jolting out of your reach. “I’m gonna go find us a table before someone takes our chance to rest our feet.”

“Don’t go too far, sweetness.” 

You wave your hand behind your back, focused on your search for a table. You find a tabletop outside, right beneath some fans. Perfection. You take a seat, watching as Wolfwood walks up to the counter to place your guys’ order. Your mind wanders, disassociating from your surroundings as you observe every detail that is Wolfwood.

His long eyelashes caressing his sternful eyes, the gentle slope of his bumpy nose, leading you to his plump lips forming the words of your order. You gaze down to his lean but broad shoulders that constantly tote the monster of a cross across his back, his long legs that are in a wide stance, demanding space and authority from those around him. Your eyes catch on his sturdy hands that quickly grasp the change that the cashier hands to him, pocketing it as he turns to look around the cafe.

You decide to toy with him for a bit, letting him look around for you. You wanted to continue your ogling a bit longer. His sunglasses are for once not obscuring his eyes, but instead hanging from his coat pocket. Wolfwood’s regal face is set in a way that the crowd flows around him, choosing to not get in the way of someone whose looks could kill. If you didn’t know him, you’d also avert your eyes. 

Instead, you lean your hand against your fist, softly smiling at the man you call your own. Whenever you are separated, you love to watch the people around Wolfwood as he searches for his other half. Wolfwood has a mission, and that is to be at your side again. 

“Why don’t you make it easier for me to find you in this hell? Raise your hand next time, sheesh,” Wolfwood admonishes you.

“That’s no fun, Nico. You look ready to murder someone if you don’t find me within the next minute, yanno that?” 

“So what I’m hearing is you do want me to put someone six feet under? Never took you to be violent, babe.” You shove him, only able to push him one foot away with how sturdy he is. If you didn’t know better, he let you push him so far. He chuckles at your antics. 

“Not what I mean! It’s just fun to see what you look like to other people when you aren’t looking at me.” He goes silent. You peer up at him, wondering where the usual witty remark is. You smirk at his pink cheeks. “Aw, is someone embarrassed?”

“Ugh, shove it.” He looks away, mumbling his next sentences. “Can’t fault a guy for wanting to look at his sweetness. You’re a sight for sore eyes compared to the uglies that wanna test me.”

“Ohh, so you’re calling me pretty??”

He rolls his eyes before looking down at you, lips quirked, silently answering your question. 

You laugh at how childish he acted early in your relationship. It took some time to thaw the ice that surrounded Wolfwood, ice that had formed as a result of a hard life that he rarely spoke of. So it was no surprise when it was hard for him to admit his feelings for you, especially such soft and tender ones.

He wasn’t familiar with the warmth he felt whenever you smiled at him, wrongfully diagnosing his racing heart as a premonition to some unseen danger in the area instead of feelings of love. That was uncharted territory for him. He was glad now that he could show you just how important you were to him. Now where the hell are they?

A sudden, melodic laugh alerts his senses to his right, eyes finally seeing a charming sight. His eyes skip over the mounds of heads that stand in the way of you leaning against your hand, a graceful smile painted across your face as you watch him. Your eyes are half-lidded, a serene yet distracted look hidden beneath your lashes. 

His heart stutters. He hates when it does that. He’d been trained ruthlessly to maintain an even and lethal composure in his day-to-day work by the Eye of Michael, but when it comes to you, years of training are forgotten. He knows the admiration etched in your entire body comes from watching his every move. It’s what he sees everytime you two look at each other. You look at him as if he was better to look at than the setting suns. 

Your smile deepens, eyes crinkling as you watch Wolfwood’s stony facade melt. He has never turned that predatorial intent on you, only ever offering you the soft, slight joy that is carved into his features when he sees you. 

His long strides carry him to you in no time, dragging his stool closer to your side. He sits down close enough that your knees touch, an affirmation that he is next to you. 

“You’re just never gonna wave me down, huh?”

“Nah, don’t feel like it.” Wolfwood hangs his head, sighing. A couple beats of comfortable silence pass. You blink slowly at the hustle and bustle of the cafe, watching customers waving their receipts at the waiter. Are they killing the Tomas out back? What is taking so long? You manage to hear one of the angry customers ask.

“You did it again.”

“Did what?” Wolfwood looks up.

“You walk around like you own the place. Hell, the whole town. People move out of your way. You got that much power without realizing it, Nico.” He cocks his head at you. Of course he doesn’t notice. “You’re scary. These people know without you even saying it that you can be a liability.” You let out a short laugh. 

“Hey, what’s the big idea? You just said I’m scary!”

“Yeah, but never to me. I know where your technique comes from.” He leans into your space now, eyes fully focused on you, gaze sweeping over your features. His fingers play with yours on the table, lightly lacing your hands together.

“Oh, you know me that well? I can say you don’t know the half of it,” Wolfwood brings his lips to your knuckles, grazing them softly. You recognize him trying to turn the tables, trying to steer you away from your analysis.

“Did you know you look at me as if I put the moons in the sky? Or if I was one of the stars decorating the night sky?” Your comparisons stem from the way that Wolfwood looks when night falls: peaceful. Almost glad that the darkness helps hide whatever burdens he still carries.

He brings your hand up to cover his face, knuckles now brushing his forehead. Maybe that was too poetic on your end. “I know without you even saying it that you love me, Nico. It’s written all over your face–is what I’m trying to say.” 

He rubs his forehead against your hand. “...maybe you do know the half of it.” A quick peck to your lips throws you for a loop for the first time that day. He separates only by an inch, ensuring that the next couple of words are for your ears only. “Let me say it out loud, then. I love you.”

“ORDER NUMBER 56 FOR NICOLE! GRILLED TOMAS SPECIAL AND A TOMAS BURGER!”

Groaning, Wolfwood’s head falls onto your shoulder. 

“That idiot of a cashier can’t hear for his life.” You chuckle, hand coming up to pet his hair.

“Whatever you say, Nicole. Now hurry up and get our food before someone snatches it.” 

With that, Wolfwood kisses the side of your neck before jogging to the counter. 

You rub where his lips were, heart racing. Damn him. He always manages to leave you speechless. 

a/n: yeah i needed to distance myself from my upcoming vash smut so woe wolfwood fic be upon ye

divider by saradika

masterlist

[mlmshipbracket]

Fourth MLM Ship Bracket Propaganda Submissions

Below you will find all of the submitted and approved ships for the Fourth MLM Ship Bracket Tournament along with the form to submit further propaganda at the bottom

This is another opportunity to submit propaganda for your favorite ships. Wether you were unable to submit propaganda for them in the initial form or you spot your favorite ship who has no propaganda submitted. Ships with a strikethrough have propaganda submitted, I will continue to update this post as propaganda is submitted. I will accept further propaganda for ships with already submitted propaganda but please prioritize those with out.

The goal is to have propaganda for all ships but I understand that may not be possible. Therefore I will be leaving the form open for a few weeks to see if we receive propaganda for at least half the ships.

Note: Please reach out to me if you spot any mistakes in character or fandom names, even if it is only formatting or spelling issues.

Monkey D. Luffy/Roronoa Zoro (One Piece)

Kyojuro Rengoku/Akaza (Demon Slayer)

Mikhail”Misha” [Heavy]/Dr. Ludwig [Medic] (Team Fortress 2)

Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas (Homestuck)

Chu Shuzhi/Guo Changcheng (Guardian, 2018)

Oliver Marks/James Farrow (If We Were Villains)

David Starsky/Kenneth "Hutch" Hutchinson (Starsky & Hutch)

Tinn/Gun (My School President)

Loki Odinson/Mobius M. Mobius (Loki)

Jaime Reyes/Bart Allen (DC Comics)

Levi Schmitt/Nico Kim (Grey's Anatomy)

Ren Amamiya or Akira Kurusu/Goro Akechi (Persona 5)

Wallace Price/ Hugo Freeman (Under the Whispering Door)

Daffy Duck/Bugs Bunny (Looney Toons)

Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan (Guardian, 2018)

Isak Valtersen/Even Bech Næsheim (SKAM)

Henry "Monty" Montague/Percy Newton (Montague Siblings)

Nico di Angelo/Will Solace (Camp Half-Blood Chronicles)

Argos/Mr. Plant (The World of Mr. Plant)

Richard St Vier/Alec Campion (Swordspoint Universe)

Klaus Hargreeves/Dave Katz (The Umbrella Academy)

Woody/Buzz Lightyear (Toy Story)

Victor Lawson/Hap (In the Lives of Puppets

Charlie/Babe (Pit Babe The Series)

Fred/Shaggy (Scooby-Doo)

Simon Snow/Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Grimm-Pitch (Carry On)

Gaius Octavius/Jedediah Smith (Night at the Museum)

Sound/Win (My School President)

Pat/Pran (Bad Buddy)

Mike Wazowski/James "Sulley" P. Sullivan (Monsters, Inc.)

Nicholas “Nick” Bell/ Seth Gray (The Extraordinaries)

Evan 'Buck' Buckley/Edmundo 'Eddie' Diaz (9-1-1)

Sean/White (Not Me: The Series)

Vegas Theerapanyakun/Pete Saengtham (Kinnporsche: The Series)

Runaan/Ethari (The Dragon Prince)

Larry Daley/Ahkmenrah (Night at the Museum)

Tintin/Captain Archibald Haddock (Tintin comics)

Bai Lang/Jin Xun An (My Tooth Your Love)

Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin (The Man from U.N.C.L.E)

Wario/Waluigi (Mario franchise)

Peter Parker/Miguel O'Hará (Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse)

Steve Rogers/Anthony "Tony" Stark (Marvel Comics)

Dave Miller/Jack "Old sport" Kennedy (Dayshift at Freddy's)

Boston/Nick (Only Friends)

Kinn Theerapanyakun/Porsche Kittisawasd (Kinnporsche: The Series)

Satoru Gojo/Suguru Geto (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Craig Cuttlefish/Octavio Takowasa (Splatoon)

Tulio/Miguel (The Road to El Dorado)

Sun Wukong/Neptune Vasilias (RWBY)

Zachary Ezra Rawlins/Dorian (The Starless Sea)

Fox Mulder/Alex Krycek (The X-Files)

Thomas/Newt (The Maze Runner)

Fulgrim/Ferrus Manus (Warhammer 40k)

Kim Theerapanyakun/Porchay Kittisawasd (Kinnporsche: The Series)

Alec Lightwood/Magnus Bane (The Mortal Instruments)

Tan/Bun (Manner of Death)

Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi (RWBY)

Rhy Maresh/Alucard Emery (Shades of Magic)

Yashiro Isana/Kuroh Yatogami (K Project)

Jaskier/Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher)

Dustfinger/Mortimer "Mo" Folchart (Inkworld series)

Brandon/Sky (Winx Club)

Phineas Taylor “P. T.” Barnum/Phillip Carlyle (The Greatest Showman)

Alfred Hillinghead/Henry Ashe (Bodies TV Show)

Baal/Inanna (The Wicked + the Divine)

Timothy "Tim" Drake/Bernard Dowd (DC Comics)

Vash the Stampede/Nicholas D. Wolfwood (Trigun Stampede)

Anthony Lockwood/Quill Kipps (Lockwood and Co)

Henry Winter/Francis Abernathy (The Secret History)

Crowley/Aziraphale (Good Omens)

Dainix/Falst (Aurora Comic)

Prince Rupert/Prince Amir (The Two Princes)

Finn/Poe Dameron (Star Wars)

Jean Luc Picard/Q (Star Trek: The Next Generation)

Will Stronghold/Warren Peace (Sky High)

Heart/Li Ming (Moonlight Chicken)

Wallace Wells/Todd Ingram (Scott Pilgrim Takes Off)

Sunai/Veyadi Lut (The Archive Undying)

Linus Baker/Arthur Parnassus (The House in the Cerulean Sea)

Aaron Slaughter/Jace Boucher (House of Slaughter)

Hercule Poirot/Captain Arthur Hastings (Hercule Poirot)

Phaya/Tharn (The Sign)

Hercules/Iolaus (Hercules: The Legendary Journeys)

Todd/Black (Not Me: The Series)

Julio "Rictor" Esteban Richter/Shatterstar (Marvel Comics)

Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishu (Word of Honor)

Siffrin/Isabeau (In Stars and time)

Kendall Knight/Logan Mitchell (Big Time Rush TV Show)

Yuichiro Hiyakuya/Mikaela Hyakuya (Owari no Seraph/Seraph of the End)

Palm/Nuengdiao (Never Let Me Go)

Khatha/Dome (Midnight Museum)

Asterix/Obelix (Asterix Comics)

Bowser/Luigi (Mario Franchise)

Lucien "Luc" O'Donnell/Oliver Blackwood (London Calling)

Kazuki Kurusu/Rei Suwa (Buddy Daddies)

Benjamin “Ben” Tennyson/Kevin Ethan Levin (Ben 10: Alien Force)

Lumière/Cogsworth (Beauty and the Beast)

Damian Wayne/Jon Kent (DC Comics)

Spy/Dell Conagher [Engineer] (Team Fortress 2)

Shanks/Buggy (One Piece)

Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Ecks (Six of Crows)

Harold Finch/John Reese (Person of Interest)

Ulrich Stern/Odd Della Robbia (Code Lyoko)

Vincent Freeman/Jerome Morrow (Gattaca)

Eustass Kid/Killer (One Piece)

Christopher Hitchcock/Jalil Sherman (Everworld)

Frodo Baggins/Samwise Gamgee (Lord of the Rings)

Edgin Darvis/Xenk Yendar (Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves)

[miamochi-writes]

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​