#sweet mayfly

[whatavery]

Sweet Mayfly Fly Away

An art trade I did for @miles-crow a while ago featuring Atlas and Asa. We love us some old man yaoi around here, don't we?

---

As the door slid open, Asa glanced up in time to see the familiar, leaner figure of his friend stepping into the dimly lit office. Cigar smoke swirled around Asa as he exhaled, his face breaking into a smile.

“Ah, Atlas… I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” Atlas may was dressed as sharply as ever in a nice, sleek, almost form-fitting black three-piece suit. Asa grinned and drew another deep hit of his cigar, exhaling slowly after the smoke had filled his lungs. Asa himself was also dressed up in a similar getup. He knew it was almost time.

“I wouldn't miss a party of yours for the world,” the gray tabby simply said as he took a seat on the other side of Asa's desk. Atlas wasn't a man who smiled very often, but just then, Asa noticed the unmistakable way the corners of the gray cat’s mouth tugged themselves upwards. “Look at you, working on the night of your own party…”

“Not working, just… making sure everything is as it should be,” Asa chuckled, before he resumed looking over the paperwork. Granted, he had a hard time keeping his eyes on it now that Atlas occupied the chair opposite him.

They occasionally stole glances at each other and Atlas didn’t seem to mind just waiting.

“Oh, but where are my manners…” Asa gestured towards the jars on his desk, one holding cigars, the others holding candy. “See something you like?”

“I certainly do.” Atlas’ eyes weren't even on the candy. Instead, the tabby’s golden eyes were staring straight into Asa's green ones. Asa smirked at him and chuckled.

“Well, afraid I can’t let you do that, old friend,” he said with a wink. Asa put out his cigar on a nearby ashtray beside his desk mat, and pulled the lid off a jar. He popped a hard rock candy into his mouth. “We’ll need something else to occupy your mouth tonight.”

“I’ll have one of those then…” Atlas leaned in closer, eyes still staring into Asa's. When Atlas opened his mouth, Asa knew what he wanted, making him snicker. And without a second thought, he picked out a piece of candy for his oldest friend and gently placed it into his mouth. When he briefly felt the other man licking his finger, Asa found himself grinning some.

“We really need to find you a lady friend – get those queer tendencies under control,” he teased him. He showed one of those small smiles Asa knew so well. Since the day they'd met, Atlas hadn't been much for smiling. Although many people found it intimidating, it hadn't ever bothered Asa. Besides, he knew fully well how to make Atlas crack smiles on a semiregular basis.

Asa finally rose to his feet and adjusted his red tie, before he checked his jacket and his vest, the left side of his chest adorned with the signature orange Marigold flower. “Mayhaps tonight is the night.”

“Mayhaps…” Atlas said, though he didn’t seem like the prospect was one that interested him very much. Asa had barely stepped around his desk before Atlas stopped him in his tracks. “You already know who I want, though.”

Feeling his friend invading his personal space, Asa gave him an almost guilty smile. He shook his head. “You’re a strange man, Atlas May. Pining for your oldest friend who’s taken.”

Atlas’ small smile faded quite noticeably when Asa reminded him. They both knew, it wasn't as though it were some shocking revelation that Asa was seeing someone. Atlas leaned in towards him till their lips almost met. “Can you blame me?”

“Well, I just want to remind you that no matter how bad you want it – no matter how bad we want it – we can’t, Atlas…” It was a rare, serious moment between them that didn’t involve business. For decades, they'd been together, generally in secret. Not many people would understand what they had.

“I know…” Atlas replied in that calm, almost cold voice of his. “I’m merely wondering what changed… This new lady of yours really must be something special…”

It was true, things had changed. They didn’t use to let something like this stop them. They'd always sneak around, kiss in secret, spends passionate nights together. Asa inwardly swore and closed his eyes.

Their lips met and Asa already regretted it. He couldn’t help it, he knew he shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t encourage this. Tonight was the night they were meant to end things, they had been doing this for far too long.

“She’s… Yeah, she’s something, alright, Atlas…” But she’s not you, Asa almost said. However, based on the look on Atlas’ face, he doubted he needed to say anything. Atlas’ lips were so sweet, and not just from the candy in his mouth. Perhaps his old friend just tasted all the sweeter because they shouldn’t be kissing.

Feeling Atlas’ hands on his cheeks was about enough to make Asa melt. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Stop…”

“Stop?”

Asa opened his eyes again and looked into Atlas’ piercing, golden ones that always took Asa's breath away. “Please, Atlas… You know how I feel.”

“I do know… But we’ve done this before. Tell me why it’s different,” Atlas demanded. Asa sighed inwardly as Atlas stroked his cheeks with his hands, being so very gentle. “That’s all you need to do, and I’ll drop it.”

Despite himself, Asa put his arms around Atlas and held him close. “Because I love you, Atlas. You know as well as I that we can’t have a normal life. You've been with me longer than anyone, you know I would marry you if I could.”

Atlas fell silent and said nothing for a moment. When Asa pulled back to look at him, the other cat had a somber expression on his face. Atlas was the first to avert his gaze, looking down. Asa took a hold of both his hands, holding them against his own cheeks. He removed Atlas’ hands after a moment of enjoying the feeling.

“Atlas… please, I want you to be properly happy… We can’t keep doing this for the rest of our lives. As much as I want to. I want you to be happy,” Asa said, repeating the main point of what he was trying to say. “You understand, don’t you?”

Even after that, Atlas said nothing, he didn’t even meet Asa's eyes. He closed his eyes again and sighed. “I know. And you know how much I love you. There's no one I've ever wanted like I want you, Ace.”

Asa couldn’t help but smile sadly upon hearing Atlas using that nickname that no one else used for him – not even the women he had seen in his life. “And I feel the same about you, Lassie.”

Upon hearing his own nickname, Atlas likewise gave a sad smile of his own. He kissed Asa's lips gently, briefly. Though they both knew it was wrong, it didn’t end at a kiss. Asa knew for a fact that while it could be seen as a finality, the ending of what they had had for decades, it might also make it harder to leave it behind. There wasn't a thing in the world Asa wouldn't do for Atlas, and he felt he owed the most important person in his life something good.

Feeling slightly lightheaded by the time they prepared to leave for the party downstairs, Asa stopped Atlas in his tracks. From a desk-drawer, Asa produced a small, black box and handed it to Atlas. He gave his dearest friend a sad kind of smile as he peered into the box. Atlas’ eyes darted back up to Asa's, fleeting hope showing itself on his face for just the briefest of moments.

Smiling sadly, Asa shook his head. “Give that to a woman you think is good enough for a man like you one day, Lassie. Give it to her and know it’s the ring I would’ve given you.”

Atlas closed his eyes and nodded. He seemed to steel himself before he eventually pocketed the ring. Nevertheless, he walked from the office with Asa. Asa kept stealing glances at Atlas, searching his handsome face for some, any kind of reaction – some way of knowing what he was thinking. Had it been a mistake to end things? Had giving Atlas that ring he'd held onto for almost a full year been the real mistake? Asa had no way of knowing, seeing as Atlas gave him nothing to really go off of.

But they made it down to the Marigold Room no problem. Asa had wanted to make tonight special. Perhaps it was knowing that he wanted to end things with Atlas, perhaps he wanted to see it as a new beginning. It would be quite a party with many people invited, it would have a band playing live music, a different band than the usual one. These people were from out of town and Asa didn’t know who they were. He just hoped they could deliver.

Perhaps this new band could bring about something new. A symbolic or literal new start for the both of them.

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

Ep 48: Gerojim is the most patient retainer at times...

ep 49: “how many times are we gonna have to teach you this lesson old man?”

[aimfor-theheart]

i feel like i’ve done this poll before but tumblr is evil and keeps me away from my own posts and i can no longer find it so:

[doctorslippery]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by m.design34 (@m.design34)

Gosh…out of that group, I've already got a pretty good idea of who lives and who dies in the comic/movie.

[vashs-turtleneck]

Three Empty Words.

✧ More than friends, less than lovers.

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY)

Summary: You love Vash. Does he love you back? It's complicated. Pairing: Vash the Stampede x reader Wc: 1.8k Cw: angst, smut, situationship, penetrative sex, pwp, crying, rough sex. An: trying to get myself back into writing after being gone for a little bit so sorry if this is a little bit messy! Also I don't usually do song recs buuuuut Song Recommendation: Sugar - Sleep Token

Vash is emotional.

He'd probably never outright admit that to you, and he seems awfully intent on keeping you at an arm's length no matter what you do, but you've been around him long enough to notice those rare and faint cracks in that perfect facade. As much as he tries to hide it, you can see it. His eyes are sad and his smile is hollow. He desperately seeks for love in a world where it feels impossible to find, and yet denies himself of it when it's right there, walking alongside him.

But there are some nights, after particularly strenuous travels and when too much venom has been spat his way where that handsome facade finally cracks. 

He's vulnerable, and he reaches for you, baring to you his fleeting moments of weakness. Deep down, you know what he's really searching for. Forgiveness, acceptance, love. But now, he seeks you for comfort in any way you're willing to give it to him and as much as you are willing to give him. He wants mercy. At least for the evening.

His will is strong enough that he'll never allow himself to have you, but just weak enough that he can't truly resist you. He yearns for you.

And you're not quite sure how it all started, or how you both got to this point - how you let things get so messy - but damn it you'd be lying if you said you didn't want this in any form. As long as you can have him. Even if it's just physically. Even if it's just for a night.

Sometimes it's loving, with worshipful hands – one smooth and cold, one warm and calloused – tracing your lines with a reverence you have to tell yourself isn't real. With wet lips pressing featherlight kisses along the curves of your neck and down the divot of your collarbone, his mouth wandering a slow, meandering path along your body and meticulously etching out every spot that makes your breath hitch like he's trying to commit it to memory.

It's tender, with languid strokes that have one orgasm flowing into the next, until you're left a pliable, boneless mess beneath him, whimpering his name over and over and your body begging for him to do whatever he wants to you. Luckily for you, you're in good hands. He's here to take care of you, even if it's for his own selfish reasons.

Your name falls off his lips like a plea for forgiveness, kisses oh so tender, drinking your moans like they're the sweetest ambrosia. He roves over your body with intimate familiarity and pulls you apart piece by piece with his fingers, his mouth, his cock, cataloging every inch of your skin before he puts you back together so he can do it all over again, all while whispering a litany of praises and sweet nothings.

“You're so beautiful when you're like this. Always so perfect, mayfly.”

“You're doing so well, feel so good around me.”

“Am I hurting you? Don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart. Just wanna make you feel good.”

“Let me just move your legs like– Yeah, like that. That feels good, right? Just like that. Now I can fuck you deeper.”

“You like me filling you with my cock like this, mayfly? You take me so well. So perfectly.”

“You're so pretty like this. All flushed and delicate.”

“Not so fast, angel. Wanna make this last. Wanna savour you.”

“So beautiful when you come. I could watch you for hours.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Sweet, beautiful, angelic, the words dripping from his lips like syrup. You hold on to them while you can, because you know they'll be gone come morning.

You wish he'd let you in. You wish he'd truly open up to you and not only seek you out when he's desperate. Fuck, you love him. You see him at his most vulnerable moments, you hold him close when he lets you, and you let him take pleasure in your body as he needs because you love him, all sides of him.

But, Vash is also angry, and that's a side of him he keeps hidden even in his most delicate moments. 

Sometimes, those feelings he keeps buried deep bubble up. When he's completely run out of those briefly lucky moments and he's forced to face the darkest, sickest sides of what humanity has to offer and he's made to question what it's all even for.

Sometimes it's almost selfish, possessive, with him wordlessly cornering you and his large frame caging you in against the nearest surface, strategically leaning his arm up on the wall next to your head so that you have nowhere else to run off to, nothing else to look at, only him - wholly commanding your attention with sapphire eyes begging for something he knows you can give him. He needs a reminder, and you're far too swooped up in the typhoon to deny him. 

It's impatient, with his flesh and bone hand holding your hip in a bruising grip while cool metal keeps your face forcefully pressed down into the dusty sheets. You wouldn't be able to cry out for him to stop even if you wanted to as he steals your breath away every time his scarred hips slam against the softness of your ass, your desperation making itself obvious to him in the form of the slickness pouring from between your thighs. He has your mind swirling under his ruthless onslaught of pleasure as he takes full advantage of each and every one of your lewdest weaknesses. He knows exactly where to touch, where to taste, where to tease, where to bite, red marks littering your pretty neck that'll bloom into faint purples and blues come morning. The dingy walls echo with the wet sounds of flesh connecting as he starts greedily chasing his own pleasure with every rolling buck of his stuttering hips, your name spilling from his lips like a curse, fucking you like it's another sin for him to bare.

“Take it. Take all of it, mayfly. I know you can.”

“Spread your legs wider. Wider.”

“Look at you. Such a mess.”

“Gonna fuck you dumb, make sure you don't know which way is up or down when I'm done with you. Until the only thing you know is me.”

“Say my name.”

“Say it louder.”

“Touch yourself. Wanna watch you cream on my cock.”

“That's it. Fuck– That's it.”

“So fucking pretty when you fall apart.”

“Come for me. Come for me now.”

“Such a good little thing for me. Nobody else gets to touch you like this, make you moan like this, fill you up like this.”

“Tell me it's all for me. Tell me it's all mine.”

“Look at me.”

“Let me see you break.”

And when his breaths calm and his pleasure filled haze fades, when that fleeting moment of rapture dissipates, the guilt comes flooding back, leaving him faced with where he is, what he's done, and worst of all, who he's done it all with.

No matter how it goes, it always ends the same way, with him whispering his broken apologies as streams of tears pour from those ethereal pools of azure.

“I'm sorry.” 

“I'm so sorry, mayfly.” 

“I'm so sorry.”

It doesn't matter how many times you try to comfort him, how many times you tell him that you want this, or that you want him. Your sweet and gentle words do nothing to ease the ache he feels in his chest. If anything, you're making it worse. 

“I don't deserve this. Any of this.”

“Especially not you.”

“Never you.”

He always stays close to you for the night. He sobs and lets his tears fall on the skin where your neck meets your shoulder, brokenly weeping his regrets, begging you for forgiveness. He cries until the exhaustion seeps into his bones and pulls him into a deep sleep, his tears still staining his cheeks and his limbs still tangled with yours.

You wrap your arms around him and keep him pressed to you, savouring the soothing heat of his body on your skin, the feeling of his breath on your neck, the peaceful tempo of his inhales and exhales. Your thumbs brush away any remaining tears, your fingers ghosting over his sun-kissed skin, dancing over the curve of his jaw, the highs of his cheekbones, over that cute little mole, down along the bridge of his nose until you're tracing over those slightly parted lips. You keep him close while you still have him, holding on to these fleeting moments of intimacy you get to indulge in. Like always, it'll be gone come morning.

It never goes into the morning. 

No, when the morning light spills through the curtains and when the suns rise, you both pretend none of it ever happened. He rolls off of you and walks off towards the shower without a word. His tear-stained eyes are still puffy and red, but they don't even look at you. He keeps quiet, and when you're both cleansed of any evidence of your passionate evening together, he gives you that lovely, empty smile that you've grown to recognize. 

It hurts every fucking time you see it.

You wander through empty desert together, making small talk, just like friends do. Never do you discuss what's happened, what you two are, what you feel.

Once again, you're kept at an arm's length.

Until the next night, or maybe it'll be the night after, when he's suddenly hugging you from behind with his breath on the column of your throat, whining and apologizing as he begs for you.

“I'm sorry. I know I don't deserve it, don't deserve you, but just… please. You're the only one I can trust with this.”

“Please, mayfly. I need you. I'm sorry.”

Sometimes, he waits until the marks he left on you have faded. Maybe it's so he can mark you up again, pretend like any and every part of you belongs to him and give in to that satisfaction he gets from knowing he's the one who does this to you, that he's the one who leaves you writhing and moaning and begging on soiled sheets for any ounce of his touch.

Or maybe it's so he can admire every inch of your divine, unclaimed flesh, and he can pretend he was never selfish enough to try to mark you to begin with. He can pretend that he was never so foolish as to believe he could touch the holy body that is you with his blightful and wicked hands.

And he can pretend that those three beautiful words never fell from his perfect lips.

divider source.

[bendycxmet]

Hi! How are you? I hope you are doing well <3 I binge-read all of you trigun fics and i loved them, so i wanted to request something too!

How about a Vash x reader where the reader sleeps on him? Vash is listening to them ramble about something and then boom, they fall asleep on him bc hes warm. <3

MY FIRST ASK! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY THIS MADE ME FOR THE ENTIRE DAY!

i am doing well! thank you for your support! <33

i usually take forever to write a piece, but ur ask inspired me and had me thinking all day on how to go about this. so hope you enjoy this! thank you for the request!

Sweet Dreams

Exiting the bathroom, freshly washed and donning one of Vash’s shirts, you throw your towel over your head, continuing to dry off your head while you peered out into the room. Vash lounged on the motel bed, arms thrown behind him to support his head, lean legs sprawled out and taking up the entire mattress. He was whistling a tune you didn’t recognize, one eye closed while the other surveilled you in the opening of the steaming door. 

“Ya sure you didn’t wanna take a shower? There’s still some hot water left,” you offered.

“Nah, got too comfy waiting here for you. I’ll take one in the morning.” 

He closed his other eye, humming the tune now. He did look comfy. A little too comfy. With his eyes closed, he didn’t see the mischievous glimmer in your eye. The pattering of your feet was his only warning as you dove for him, body landing atop his, an ‘oof!’ sounding from him as your body weight collapsed on his chest. You were cackling at the noise he made, wrapping your arms around his waist as his fingers tickled your sides.

“Not fair! You attacked a defenseless man!”

“Getting comfortable without me, handsome? Ay! Stop it!-” 

His fingers didn’t stop their wriggling assault, only ending when you began to retaliate. 

“Ok, ok! I’m done!” He coughed a laugh out. “Mm, you smell nice. I haven’t smelled this soap before. Where’d you get it?” He twirled a wet piece of hair between his fingers.

“Oh I didn’t tell you! I met this vendor at the market earlier! While you were off looking for your donuts, the smell of the loveliest lavender drew me in.”

Vash hummed along to your story, indicating that his attention was still 100% on you as he played with your hair. He breathed in the calming scent on your skin and hair, allowing it to sway him to sleep slowly. You rambled on and on about how the vendor made the soap, the techniques and oils she used to bring out the herb. 

“But I got her card so we can go back and get you a soap! I do love how you smell Vash, it’s almost like you have a sort of gene that prevents you from smelling bad.” You turned your nose further into his shirt, inhaling the raw smell of him–sunshine with notes of something earthy…petrichor, or something along those lines. It grounded you every time. “But geez, would it kill you to wash your laundry sometimes?! You stink!” you lied, teasing a finger into his chest.

He yelped, abruptly awoken by your harsh jabbing. He grabbed your finger, bringing it up to kiss it, splaying your hand open with his own, observing the size difference. 

“We can do a laundry day tomorrow. I saw the laundromat wasn’t too far off from us, so we can easily carry our loads there.” He sighed, a content smile plastered on his face at the domesticity you two indulged in. He entwined your fingers, bringing it to the side of his face. “That reminds me! I got us donuts for the morning! You should’ve seen the options, I mean. I was in heaven, Mayfly. Powdered, glazed, cake-”

He let your hand go as he gestured in the air, passionate about the change in subject.

It was Vash’s turn to ramble. And once he started on his favorite topic–donuts–there was no stopping him. The deep timbre of his voice held some power. His voice always became deeper late into the night, hinting that he was getting tired; but it seemed to lower your heart rate, lower your defenses and diminish the adrenaline you had from a busy day. The warmth of the day seemed to never leave him, his body heat encompassing the parts of you that touched him. You tucked your legs closer to his body as the coldness of the desert night reached for your feet. 

One of his arms was wrapped around you, hand coming to rest on your shoulder. The other was busy with your arm on the opposite side, fingers lightly grazing up and down. The security you felt in his presence never failed to put you to sleep. 

You hummed one last time, eyes softly closing at his praise for a certain jelly doughnut. You promised in your head that you were only shutting them for a minute. What lies you told yourself.

“But I got your favorite! It might have a bite in it, but I saved the majority of it for you! I know you’ll like it, because I know you, hehe…um. Mayfly?” 

Your soft snores alerted him that you stopped paying attention to his tales of the day. He peered down his nose at you, love clearly painted into his features. Your eyelashes were long from this angle, gently laid out on your sun-kissed skin. Your lips were parted, soft breaths felt on his chest as you breathed in his scent on each inhale and exhaled the minty paste from your nighttime routine. He’s told you plenty of times before, but if only you knew how beautiful you looked in his eyes. 

He felt goosebumps rise on your skin from the chill in the air. He reached down to grab the comforter, pulling it up to your shoulders. You shifted slightly, stilling in the creases of his warm neck that was now heating your cold nose. He giggled at the temperature difference, arms also wrapping around your waist as he settled further into the sheets.

He had to admit, his exaggerated noise and fuss at your sudden dive from earlier was only a ruse. He loved the nights you chose to sleep tucked into his side, but he delighted in the nights you chose to smother him, arms always wrapped around him. He had days to live for with you, but there were always nights to live for as well.

“Sweetest of dreams, Mayfly.”

A/N: side note! i am open to requests! i think they're super fun and it really does get me motivated to write more :)

masterlist

divider

[spooblet]

Vash, Wolfwood, and Knives: (Y/n) biting their arm.

Vash The Stampede

The two of you were settling down after a long night of traveling. Upon walking to the motel room, (Y/n) was the first to collapse on the bed. Of course, Vash was one of the two who was used to traveling long distances with no problem for many years compared to (Y/n). 

“I don’t get how you can keep doing this. My legs are killing me!” (Y/n) dramatically groans while Vash smiles softly. He was happy to find a place for the night, but more happy to see his beloved partner resting at ease. 

Vash placed his bag near the desk and removed his coat; placing it on top of the chair before joining (Y/n) in bed. 

“We should get some rest. We still have a long way to go till we get to the next city.” Vash removed his prosthetic arm and then his shoes. Before he can make himself comfortable, he then removes (Y/n)’s shoes once he notices how no effort they put in to make themselves comfortable. The smile never wiped off as he was glad to help (Y/n)’s night more comfortable. He lay on his side and wrapped his arm over (Y/n), pulling them close to him as he slowly drifted to sleep. 

It wasn’t long until he felt a pinching sensation on his arm that woke him up. 

“My love…What are you doing?” He asked calmly as he looked down to see what was going on. (Y/n) gently bit Vash’s arm and looked up to meet his eyes. 

“Nuthin’” They responded as their mouth was still attached to his arm,

“Uhh…can you let me go, please?” He smiled and looked at them with pleading eyes.

“Na.” They responded. 

Their teeth still sank into his skin, not so much so to tear skin or cause a bad injury, but enough to make Vash try and shake them off of him. 

“Please, mayfly?” He looked at them with a calm expression, but they shook their head no as they put a little pressure. 

“Ah! Hey! No biting, please, and thank you?” 

Vash tried to pry his arm away from (Y/n)’s mouth but to no avail. He was about to give up until he thought of something that would help the situation. He leans towards their head and presses a sweet, gentle kiss against their temple. Even if it didn’t do anything to help his situation, at least he ended the day giving them affection. To his surprise, he felt the release of their teeth as they looked up at him, smiling and blushing softly at the touch of his lips. Vash looked down and smiled as well before pulling them closer to him for a well-rested night.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

He was at it again, being the annoying prick of a boyfriend as always. The whole time in the city they had just got in, Nicholas would annoy (Y/n) just for his amusement and entertainment. He would grab their hair and try to have it slid inside their nose, would tap the back of their knee to make them lose balance in public, along with aggressive hair ruffling at random. 

(Y/n) had enough. As soon as Nicholas put his arm around their shoulder it was an opportunity to annoy him by biting his arm. 

“Ahh! Hey what the hell, (Y/n)!?” 

Nicholas was shocked by the sudden action and tried to remove his arm off their shoulder but (Y/n) wasn’t letting him go that easy. Their teeth sank a little further down his skin, making him groan. 

“This isn’t funny, (Y/n), let go!” 

“No!”

Nicholas continues to try to pull his arm off their mouth, but to his surprise, they are locked in. unable to get his lover off his arm. It’s to the point where he decided to take it a little further. 

“You wanna play fire with fire, (Y/n), You’re asking for it!” 

In a quick motion, Nicholas grabbed (Y/n)’s arm and bit it with the same amount of pressure as (Y/n). They let out a slight yelp but refused to let him go. He was being too annoying and had to give him a taste of his own medicine, but they should have known better that he would try to get even with them. 

“Had enough?” Nicholas muttered the words out while having his teeth locked in. 

(Y/n) only shook their head no and continued to bite his arm. There was no point in having both of them biting each other by the sidewalk as some locals walked past them with slight judgment, Nicholas soon sigh then let go, seeing it wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Alright, alright, fine you win…happy now?” 

There was no response from (Y/n) as they continued to bite his arm. Nicholas groaned at their stubbornness and looked at them for a moment before getting an idea.  He started to tickle them in a sensitive spot which caused them to let go and laugh at this action. He smirked at his success and took the chance to lift them and throw them over his shoulder, gripping their thigh tightly to secure them. 

“There, now be a good (girl, boy, individual) and try not to get any funny ideas. Alright?” 

He picked up The Punisher and continued walking down the sidewalk. Everything was going well until (Y/n) patted his ass for payback. It was now their turn to be the annoying partner. 

Nicholas blushed madly and called them out.

“Hey! Enough of that! You’re being damn annoying, you know!”

Knives Millions

…You…You just want to die, huh? 

(Y/n) would never dare themselves to take such a risky action by biting Knives. He was stronger and dangerous if he got mad, let alone being bitten.  It was already pure luck that Knives didn’t want to harm his beloved. There was just the thought in the back of (Y/n)’s mind of ‘what if’’s in the back of their mind. Knives were sitting on the edge of a bed that was given for (Y/n) to rest since he knew how important sleep is to humans. ((Reader if you’re reading this at 2 am. Go to bed.)) He had one arm around (Y/n)’s shoulder as he watched them drift to slumber. Based on how they were breathing, they were still awake even after 15 minutes. Before he could point it out he felt their teeth on his skin which confused him. 

“What are you doing…” Knives didn’t move his arm away or pull away for that matter, he just looked down at his (Y/n) while waiting for their reasoning as to why they were attempting to bite him. 

“...N-nothing.” They replied. 

“Truly there is a reason why you’re trying to bite me. Especially when you’re such a terrible liar.” He responded. To their surprise, He let out a chuckle at their useless reasoning.

 There was no reason to lie to him, but the panic was overwhelming. 

“Tell me…what kind of human behavior is this…” He sounded curious as to what tempted (Y/n) to bite him as if they had some animalistic behavior. 

“It…can be displayed as affectionate to some?” They responded.

There was a moment of silence before Knives considered it and then nodded. 

“Very well..”

It was his way of giving them his approval which (Y/n) nodded and gently bit his arm. Their sank pressed down on his skin for a while. The room was filled with an awkward silence between the two. It was getting uncomfortable to the point where (Y/n) let go and looks at Knives

“Hmm…Don’t do that again.” He responded. 

Knives sat there until he noticed (Y/n) fell asleep before getting off the bed and walked out of the private room that now belongs to (Y/n). As he walked down the hallway, a faint blush crept in his skin. He would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t like the feeling of their teeth on his skin, but he refused to accept the new sensation he was feeling inside. 

[miniaturecanvas]

The rest of the individual characters from my mass attack for artfight!

Ember Eclipse belongs to fluffiesauce on deviantart

Sweet Chilli belongs to @eggmilky

Scatter Brain belongs to @mumpsetc

Mayfly Bristle belongs to @melenocyte

Strawberry Mane belongs to @foxdrawsz

Wishing Star belongs to @starmilkman

Sharpened Pencil belongs to @nullkunst

Ivory Bouquet belongs to @eldritchmistake

Sweet Clover belongs to sw33tclover on artfight

Fogspot belongs to owlycatmov on Twitter

[boobav]

Rotten Petals

It was true that his hands left black marks on your skin, on your soul. Deft, filthy fingers pressed deep into your flesh time and time again, acid-laced words slithering into your mind and silencing the rational part of yourself that said that this was the last time.

You bring a hand to your face.

It'd been a week since you'd last seen him, he was busy, he'd said over the phone, busy dealing with Freddy's and the absolute mess it had devolved into. You'd been to that place once for a family gathering, and never again. You knew what took place there; you could see the screams on the walls, the blood scrubbed by those very hands that you let touch you- and it was sickening. You'd watched as your family laughed and played, completely unaware, and glanced over as he stared you down from across the room with a grin on his face. Those missing posters recently plastered on milk cartons made your insides churn, made your mind run in circles trying to find some justification. Moonlight streamed through the blinds onto your skin; you felt the ghost of his hand around your throat, the ghost of a knife pressed there too- and you sighed.

A knock at the door makes you jump. A rapid, almost violent string of knocks follows, and your stomach drops. 

Every hidden, tucked away piece of rationality lodged into your mind leaps up at once, begging you not to open that door, pleading desperately with you to stay in bed and hold the pillow tighter, cry quieter and pretend that nothing's wrong until that knocking goes away. But these voices are too quiet. In reality, there was only a moment of hesitation, a mere blip with the lifespan of a mayfly before you were on your feet, stumbling over discarded clothes to reach the front door. You fumble with the locks, heart beating with the ferocity of a prey-animal as a mixture of dread, excitement, fear and desire fight for dominance in the pit of your stomach.

And then he's in front of you. 

The light from the corridor lights up one side of him, leaving the other in deep shadow. There are stains on his white button-up, dark and unsettling, but today they appear to be nothing more than motor oil. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, you note, as your eyes drag along the vein running up his arm, along the creases in his shirt, and finally reach his own eyes that have a crazed, hardly hidden spark in them. He smiles, a genuine thing that juxtaposes the death and distaste that fit along the lines in his face. His hands find your waist as he steps forward, squeezing, kneading and moving you back into the small apartment he's marked as his property; his beard scratches your neck as he lays unnaturally sweet kisses against your throat- and you want to give in, you need to let your brain turn off, but a shaky excitement is wrapped tight around his figure- and you're terrified of what that means.

"William..." You mumble, barely forming the syllables, but he hushes you immediately, his breath warm against your neck as he consoles you in an almost mocking way. But you take it, you love it, you whimper as he smiles against your skin and laughs at your pathetic response. You're back in your bedroom now, moonlight flittering over the two of you as he slumps into your bed and pulls you into his lap; that look is still in his eye, and you find yourself asking, "What happened?" without actually wanting to know. His hand comes up to loosen his tie, and his words escape with a breathless quality. 

"They moved- they-" He clears his throat, and meets your gaze. "They moved again on their own, but more fluidly. More alive, more..." The horror in your mind is tangible to him, he feels it instantly, and he begins to stroke your hair, to tuck it behind your ear lovingly. "More alive works. They appeared more alive today." 

The only response you can give is a wavering hum, and a momentarily bowed head. And you know he revels in it- revels in the disgust you feel for him and the inability you have to live without him. He laughs lightly, nothing more than an exhale, and lifts your face back to his. 

And then you're kissing him, hard, because you don't want to think about what he's just said- you don't want to think about anything but the way his skin feels against yours and the way his grip crushes you into nothing but rotten petals again, and again. 

Your hands slip off his tie as his cold fingers slide up your shirt- you swallow your gasp and almost laugh at the tease, willfully forgetting that the man you were about to fuck had just reminded you that he was a murderer, a disgusting man that hell had gurgled up one day and spat onto the earth for its own sick amusement; he was dangerous, horribly so, and the thought alone sent a filthy shock through your abdomen. He flips you over, pressing you into the messy covers as your shirt is peeled off without thought. His hands squeeze your neck, your breasts, your waist whilst pressing sweet kisses to your stomach. You stare down at him through a half-lidded gaze, squirming every time his eyes flit up to yours whilst he tugs down your slacks, his breath hot against your thighs, his bites erotically painful. 

You throw your head back with a hitched breath as he licks a strip up your pussy, and you wonder for a hot second why you continue to let this man defile you with his searing touch and horrifying cruelty; he laps you up like water, thumbing your clit all the while, and the heat in your abdomen clashes with the disgust in your chest- and you feel your eyes sting. There was something so undeniably broken inside you, because you liked it, you loved it when he held you, when he choked you and when he fucked you like a man starved. You moan as he pushes a finger inside you, then another, shuffling up just in time to see a tear run along your face- and he hushes you, he consoles you, whispers a gentle, "What's wrong?" and smiles when you tell him it feels too good, too overwhelming. You taste yourself on his tongue as you kiss and arch your back as his fingers undo you with ease, but as your grip on him tightens, as your whimpers and moans heighten, he pulls his hand away. You re-open your eyes, whining, reaching down to touch yourself but he stops you with an iron grip, and tuts. 

His belt clinks as he discards it into the already-impressive pile of clothes that's been on your floor for a week. He palms his already-hard cock, lining it with your entrance in a messy, impatient motion as you throw your head back in desire, in disgust, in relief that he prefers fucking you to killing you. Your hands drift from his shoulders to his hair peppered with various shades of grey, and his first thrusts are slow, thoughtful even- but then his fingers wrap around your throat like a necklace and he starts fucking you like an animal. His shirt is still on, you realise, as he presses his body hard against yours and shoves his face into the crook of your neck, biting, rasping out grunts and dirt-covered words you can barely hear. Your moans and cries hitch as his grip on your throat tightens, loosens, and his other hand pulls at the fat of your hips; the sound of skin-against-skin fills the small room and the knot in your abdomen is tight again already, brutally so, and as he fucks you into the covers you moan brokenly into his ear. An undeniably violent wave of ecstasy washes over your body, over your eyes, over your heart, and you feel wonderfully helpless against his ravaging of your body.

In this tiny, brief moment, you forget all about his misdeeds. Even with his hand wrapped tight around your throat and his hips stuttering against yours, you feel peace for a second, pretending to yourself that William Afton loved you, that he cared for you and he'd done none of the things he'd openly confessed to doing. He was simply your troubled lover, nothing more and nothing less.

His groan is hitched and raw as he cums pressed deep inside of you, breath hot against the side of your face. You stroke his hair for a brief moment as he recovers, chest heaving, but soon he shifts over and lies down beside you, leaning up against the headboard. You can already feel the bruises forming, the bitemarks that he'd left scattered over your flesh. He meets your eyes again, that crazed look temporarily satiated, and asks for a cigarette in a tired voice. He did last time, and the time before that, so now you had a pack on the nightstand waiting for the occasion; you lean up against him, wrapping yourself around him like ivy as the lighter clicks a few times, and then the flame comes to life. It lights up William's face for the few seconds it's on, and then the sharp smell of smoke hits your lungs and poisons them that slight bit more.

[greetingfromthedead]

Gingerbread (Vash x GN!Reader)

Plot: You join Vash in a visit to Karsted City. To keep you being there a secret, Lina and Grandma Sheryl mingle with the townsfolk, leaving you and Vash to bake cookies to be decorated later together with Lina. Rating: E (for this part) Tags: No use of "Y/N", Established Relationship, Fluff, Festive Cheer, Holiday Traditions, Christmas Cookies, Gingerbread Making, Banter, Playfulness, Physical Tenderness, Shenanigans, Spending Time Together, Kissing, Licking Vash's Prosthetic Like a Whisk, Cuddling, Cookie Eating Word count: 2.4k

"It sure is nice to be here, but are you sure it is safe?" You ask as you wrap your arms around Vash's waist, knotting your fingers on his stomach and hugging him from behind. You feel the shifts and movements of his muscles as he continues to knead the dark brown dough that already starts to make the room smell heavenly and sweet.

"Yeah, Grandma Sheryl and Lina went to the church; they said they would mingle in town so nobody would get the idea to come here for a surprise visit. As long as we don't turn on the big lights, it's doubtful anyone would get suspicious of us being here. It's okay, love." Vash explains calmly. He has learned that it helps to settle your nerves, so he tries to do it more and not just shrug and go with the flow.

"I feel bad for them having to leave just for us. I was also looking forward to spending time with them, not to mention you've missed them both so much. Will they at least be back to have dinner?" You continue to question him, burying your face into the soft knitted sweater Sheryl made for him.

"Of course they will! They wouldn't miss a festive dinner together! They might just be here a little late. More time for us to make these gingerbreads!" he replies, the soft smile you love so much dripping from his voice.

"You're right! It was hard enough to get the ingredients! We can't let them go to waste!" New determination energizes you to loosen your hug and step out from behind Vash. You roll up your sleeves again and kiss his cheek. Vash tilts his whole body towards you to make sure you can reach his face and even turns his head afterward with his lips puckered. His hands are still busy kneading the dough in front of him, so you give in and put another light kiss on his lips. His front is covered in flour; his nice jumper is only protected thanks to the frilly apron he wears. The flour even dusts his face, a more prominent line on his forehead where he swiped over with his forearm. It's endearing, and you can't help but smile at his messy appearance.

You leave him to his task and start to look for the supplies necessary for the next steps. Preparing the baking trays takes some time; you need to smear the metal with butter and some flour to make sure nothing will stick to them once baked. You also check that the oven is preheating to the correct temperature, and you lay out the few cookie cutters you have so that they are easily accessible. A heart, a star, a little man, a bell, and a cat.

"I think the dough is done. You've kneaded it for long enough," you say as you fight the drawer filled with utensils to get the rolling pin out. Somehow the drawer has gotten stuck and won't budge no matter how hard you pull.

"Yeah, it feels all smooth and ready!" Vash answers and forms a ball with the dough. "Ohhh… Mayfly?"

"What's up, love?"

You finally manage to wiggle the utensils enough to pry open the drawer, the culprit being the rolling pin itself that had gotten lodged in the worst position.

"It's my hand…" He trails off, and you turn towards him, resting the pin on your shoulder like a bat. "I think I need your help."

Vash looks like a puppy that has gotten into trouble. He lifts his skeletal prosthetic that has gingerbread dough stuck in every nook and cranny.

"Well, good thing we gave it a good scrub with that toothbrush before we got started!" You laugh gently and go to him, leaving the roller on the counter and taking his right hand, scraping it clean with a butter knife first and wiping everything mostly off, leaving only a little bit of oily residue behind.

The other hand is in worse shape, and you carefully start removing the bulk, using a small spoon and the knife to get large chunks off and smushing them together with the rest of the dough. Vash looks a little ashamed for being in this situation, but he enjoys watching you work away. He starts to wonder if you will use the toothbrush again to get the smaller details clean, but then you lift his hand up to your face and put two of his metal fingers in your mouth to suck them clean, your tongue swirling around them. Vash suddenly feels flustered as you look up at him, his fingers still lingering on your tongue. The sweet taste of sugar blends with the spices, and you're happy with how the dough turned out. You suck on his fingers as you pull them out with a pop, shifting his hand to lick and kiss the next parts clean, from the other fingers to the knuckles and his palm. You treat his hand like a whisk. Vash's face and ears turn a deeper shade of crimson as he watches you with a mixture of endearment and embarrassment. His heart beats so loud in his ears, especially when you smile at his expression. You are so precious to him.

"Alrightly, it's toothbrush time!" you announce after getting him mostly clean and having indulged in raw cookie dough. You hold on to his hand as you drag him to the sink and lather the prosthesis in soap before scrubbing it completely clean. Vash tries to interject and offers to do it himself, but you ignore him, just giving a small bump with your hip as acknowledgment that you heard him at all.

After getting him squeaky clean again, you return to your dough; you take over the business of dividing the large ball into smaller portions and rolling it out evenly on the well-floured surface. You finally get to the part where you can start to cut out shapes. Vash stands right beside you, his arm often brushing against yours as he reaches for a cookie cutter or when he presses it into the dough. You start filling the prepared tray with cookies, carefully spacing them out so they don't merge together while baking. Vash eventually even leaves all the cutters to you and takes a knife, carefully starting to cut out his own shapes. Among them is a fairly large cross. It is a bit uneven, but Vash doesn't mind; he looks very proud of his work.

"What's that?" you ask, suspecting the answer but making sure.

"It's the Punisher!" he says with a very pleased expression as he carefully transfers it onto the tray.

"Thought so!" you respond with a smile, glad to see him so happy.

With the tray filled, Vash puts it in the oven and makes a note of the time. You already start work on the next set, rolling out more dough, and Vash joins you in making even more cookies, filling a second tray in the time it takes for the first one to bake. The kitchen is filled with your soft voices and the warm scent of gingerbread. It is easy to forget that your life is rarely this peaceful.

Vash is busy carving out the shape of a flower when it comes time to check on the first batch in the oven. You take the mitts and open the oven door. The hot puff of air hits your face, carrying the scent of cinnamon and sugar throughout the kitchen. You take the tray out to inspect it closer, not wanting to leave the cookies raw.

"Oh no," you chuckle as you look at the tray of freshly baked gingerbread.

"What's wrong?" Vash looks up with concern.

"It's the Punisher," you reply, trying your hardest to stifle a laugh.

"Did it break?" Vash still doesn't understand and steps closer to look for himself.

The cross is now misshapen; the dough has risen and expanded in the oven. The long straight remains vaguely the same, but it seems longer and wider; the sharp corners are all rounded. The shorter offshoots to both sides have also lost all of their shape, becoming blobs that melt into the top part.

"It has become the Penisher!" you exclaim, no longer able to keep yourself in check and letting out a loud cackle.

"You're right!" Vash looks over your shoulder, tracing the shape of the gingerbread in the air, "There's the shaft, and there are the balls!"

Vash joins your laughter, and somewhere, far, far away, Wolfwood suddenly feels very irritated for no apparent reason.

Like a well-oiled machine, you churn out more and more cookies, leaving them on the counter to cool while filling the tray with new, uncooked ones. Rarely is there a second of just waiting around, but when there is such a moment, Vash uses it to leave kisses on your cheeks and lips. You cherish these sweet gestures, feeling grateful for the love and joy that fills your heart. By the time all the gingerbread are done cooking, you have cleaned up the kitchen together. No sign remains of the mess you caused, except for the cooling cookies. You even clean off Vash's face and sweater.

"I'm sure Lina will love to help decorate all of these tomorrow! Or knowing her, perhaps even today after dinner," Vash comments as he looks at your creations as if he's in a fine art gallery.

"I'm sure she will. Guess it is a good thing she's not here. She would have a hard time being patient and waiting for them all to cool down," you chuckle a bit.

"We made quite a lot. We can't make enough glaze for all of them," he continues in a thoughtful manner, and you quickly pick up where he is steering the conversation.

"Hmm, yes, of course," you nod along. "We should definitely prioritize which ones get to be decorated. No point in putting effort into the broken and bloated ones! Nobody will know what they are supposed to be anyway!"

"Yes. To avoid any confusion, do you think we should separate the substandard ones from the rest?" He tries to sound as pretentious as possible.

"That's a good idea! We should pick them out and put them on plates so we can move them away from the rest more easily!" you keep nodding and taking out a large plate, shifting closer to the cooling gingerbread.

"I'm suspecting that separation won't be enough! What if someone wastes precious glaze on them? Or if their ugliness infects our perfect creations?!" Vash sounds outraged as he takes a long step to your side, leaning over the cookies.

"Fair point. We should dispose of the ugliest ones! It is for the best! We are doing everybody a favor!" you agree with him, hand already reaching out to pick up a bell that looks like it has melted in the desert heat.

"Indeed. For the greater good!" He hums in agreement, picks up some broken gingerbread to put on your plate, and then turns away with a fake serious face. "I will get the necessary tools for the job."

"Do you happen to mean milk?" you look after him.

"Of course I do!" he responds with a mischievous grin.

You continue to fill your plate with broken and misshapen cookies. The dim light remaining in the room makes it hard to see which ones are broken, but you manage to compile a small heap, and Vash returns to your side with a big glass of milk. His free hand lands softly on your lower back; his touch feels tender and sweet, and he keeps his arm around you as you walk over to the couch.

The living room has also gone almost completely dark, making the little lights decorating the room shine all the brighter. The smell of freshly baked cookies fills the air, creating a warm and comforting atmosphere. You leave the plate with the gingerbread on the side table for easy access. Vash puts the milk next to the cookies and sits down first, sinking into the plush cushions of the couch. He shifts a bit and then some more until he is all but lying on the couch. Vash looks at you and spreads his arms with a smile. You take his silent invitation and make your way into his embrace, snuggling up against his chest and feeling the warmth of his body envelop you.

He pulls down the blanket that was laid out on the backrest of the couch, covering you both with it, creating a cozy cocoon.

"Hey, Mayfly?" He speaks softly, and you feel the vibrations of his low voice through his chest.

"Yeah?"

"I love you," Vash whispers, his warm breath tickling your ear.

You lift your eyes to look into his. They shine back like gems, the tiny string lights reflecting back as tiny dots. He looks happy and at peace, something you wish to offer him every day for the rest of your days.

"I love you too," you reply and shift closer to kiss his lips. His arms tighten around you in a hug as he kisses you back, a familiar dance of your love for each other. His mouth tastes like sugar and spice, truly festive and full of warmth.

"You started without me!" you say in a low, almost threatening voice as you look at him. His eyes widen in surprise as if you had pointed a gun at him.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist!" He responds sheepishly. "You ate the dough first, though!"

One of his hands reaches out into the abyss, feeling for the edge of the side table and nearly knocking over the glass of milk to reach the gingerbread. He picks one and offers it to you with an apologetic smile. You were never mad at him, so you can't keep a straight face and burst out laughing again before taking a big bite of the cookie he still holds. The cookie tastes warm and spicy, just like the holiday season.

All is good. Everything is perfect. Together you lay on the couch wrapped in a blanket with cookies and milk. The holiday lights twinkle in the background, and festive smells linger in the air. There is no place you would rather be than in Vash's arms at this moment, and Vash feels like all his wishes have been answered with one perfect gift—you. As you both snuggle closer together, you feel loved and cherished.

Optional smutty Part 2 »

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

Divider and banner by saradika

[vshthestmpede]

Hi there!

Could we get some headcanons for vash, nick, and knives and what pet names they use for their s/o and how they would use them? Like in what situations they would use them? And what their s/o would call them in return?

Thank you 🫶🏻

the boys & their nicknames for their significant other

word count; 896

warnings; none, this is just some sweet stuff to alleviate the constant trauma our boys (and subsequently, we enjoyers) go through

note; i am such a damn sucker for cute nicknames, so this request was super fun to write!! tysm for requesting, i truly appreciate it <3 so sorry for the lack of things, covid has been kicking my butt lately on top of college ;-;

cross-posted to ao3

VASH

mayfly + lovebug

to make up for the lack of pda, vash makes sure you know how he cares by the way he calls for you

as soon as it starts, your real name is out the window and you're only to be called by the pet name he bestowed on you

you love the way it rolls off his tongue, like it was meant for you

started as a private thing as vash prefers to keep his love life under wraps but eventually became something he was proud to use in public amongst those he trusted

"good morning, mayfly."

you stretched the sleep out of your joints, blinking to adjust to the bright sunlight. vash had himself propped up on his forearms, twirling your hair around his fingers gently.

"sleep well?" he asked as you turned on your side to face him. he leaned forward and kissed your forehead as you nodded. "good. we don't have to leave for another hour or so, wanna snuggle?"

you responded by pulling him closer to you, burying your face in his chest. he wrapped his arms around you, his fingers lazily drawing shapes into your back.

"how'd you sleep, lovebug?" you murmured, voice still heavy with sleep.

vash grinned. "lovebug, hm? that's new."

you shrugged and readjusted, looking up at him. "well i thought with mayfly i needed to come up with something similar."

"fair enough, i like it." vash chuckled. "very creative. i slept okay, had a weird dream though."

"is that so? tell me all about it."

WOLFWOOD

my star + handsome

you never took wolfwood to take to romance or any of the cheesy aspects of being in a relationship

however, being a man who wasn't given any real love growing up, he craved it more than anything

of course, he'd never show it to the other three, so things like nicknames were saved solely for time between the two of you

you savored those times, enjoying the softer side of the undertaker

he would tell you how there were billions of stars in the sky yet only you were his, the brightest and most dazzling in his eyes

you pounded on the bathroom door, fed up. "c'mon, princess, i'm sure you look amazing now open the damn door!"

the door swung open and nicholas, hair still wet and messy, gave you the coldest stare behind his sunglasses.

"the hell did you just call me?" he asked, blocking you from moving past him. "no, no, no. you've never called me any sort of name before and now you just -"

"i'll keep calling you it if you don't let me use the damn bathroom," you snapped back, grabbing his arm and literally pulling him out of the bathroom. "thank you!"

coming out of the bathroom after finishing your business, you held back a laugh when you found nicholas sitting on the edge of the bed with his lips pressed into a tight frown. you flopped on the bed next to him, pulling him down with you.

"oh my gosh." you laughed as he turned away from you with a small 'hmph'. "c'mere, handsome."

instantly, he melted into your embrace, clearly much more pleased with the new nickname.

"that's better," he murmured.

"you're such a big softie," you chided playfully, brushing his hair from his face. "never change, okay?"

"yes, my star."

KNIVES

sunshine + sweetheart

if you thought it would take knives forever to even acknowledge the feelings you two shared, just imagine how long it took for him to take up on any sort of romantic gesture

you were at the helm in this voyage, showing him acts of affection first to egg him on

quickly you both learned he wasn't the biggest on physical touch but definitely enjoyed the whole concept of nicknames, something that made you stand above the rest even more to him

despite that, he found himself fighting on what he thought would fit you perfectly

you had cycled through the generic ones (babe, baby, etc.) but decided that sweetheart was the winner the way a goofy, almost childlike smile appeared on his face when you called him it the first time

knives refused any help on coming up with your nickname, demanding he figure it out himself

"i've got it!"

your head snapped up from your book as the piano playing suddenly ceased and knives stood, knocking the bench over at his abrupt movement.

"are you alright, sweetheart?" you asked, pushing yourself up out of your chair and heading towards him. he met you halfway, taking your hands in his excitedly. "what's going on in that head of yours?"

"you're my sunshine, (name)."

he had said it so happily, staring right in your eyes as he declared his newly thought of nickname. you felt your heart race at the simple gesture and the look on his face, basking in the joy that radiated off of him.

"i love it." your hands moved from his up to cradle his face. "what made you think of sunshine?"

knives leaned into your hand, proud of himself. "you just. . .you light up my life. you're so warm and caring, it's like you're if sunshine was a human."

your heart swelled at his kind words, this soft and sweet side of knives - albeit rare - was something you treasured and would always hold close to your heart.

[novasintheroom]

Can you imagine your wedding day with Vash?

It's sudden, that's for sure - both of you wake up one day, years into your engagement, and Vash has this look in his eye and asks, "Wanna get married today?"

Of course you say yes.

You both bully Wolfwood into officiating the wedding. He does it with grumbles, but you can see the pleased blush on his face at being so included. Meryl and Milly scramble to put together bouquets made of fake flowers and shiny metal bits found in the local pawn shop and just around town. Meryl complains that it should be more, that there should be a venue, decorations, something, but Milly can barely talk because she's so choked up about being made a bridesmaid.

Your dress is simple - something you packed away in your sack for fancier occasions. It's not even white, but it's special, now. You slip it on, pressing down the wrinkles from being at the bottom of your pack for so long. You have to go in your boots, and you worry you don't look like a bride.

That worry vanishes when you see the look on Vash's face.

You appear in the little church the town has, and you can hear the breath leave your man when you walk through the doors. He's staring. Of course he's staring, you look beautiful. Milly did up your hair the best way she knew how, and Meryl helped to clean you up and put some make-up on your cheeks. He's seen you in that dress before, and he still thinks it's perfect for you, how it hugs your curves and just screams you. Wolfwood has to nudge him a bit, giving him a cheeky smile when he sees the tears in Vash's eyes.

You walk down the isle to no music, and when you reach him, Vash reaches out his hand to hold yours. His thumb rubs your ring finger, absent of your engagement ring in favor of using it for the ceremony. "We'll fix that," he murmurs, and you smile at him with your own tears.

Wolfwood does his best at being a proper priest, for the most part. There's a lot of 'ums' said as he makes up his speech while going along. When you get to your vows, Vash pulls out a paper you didn't know he had and reads it:

"Mayfly, I didn't sit back and take inventory of your qualities and say 'this one ticks all the boxes, done.' I was drawn to you and profoundly lucky that you were drawn to me. And we started something that we still work on everyday, that gets deeper and wrinklier every day. I hope that doesn't sound unromantic, calling it work. I don't mean work like drudgery, watching the clock waiting for work to be over - I mean work the way artists talk about paintings as vital and prioritized. It's the most important work of my life, our partnership, and I cherish it. Also, to be clear, I am hopelessly in love with you. That helps. I am on a daily basis completely knocked over by the person in front of me; this crazy dancing, music humming, sweet and spicy woman that I get to spend my life with. It's just that life is long, and I know that loving well is a thing you do, not a lottery you win."

He goes on to promise to always cherish you, listen to you, love you the way you deserve. By the time he's done, you're a mess, and your make-up is running. You kiss him before Wolfwood can even say "I pronounce you husband and wife," but when have you two ever done things the "normal" way?

Credit to @cullinmcgree on TikTok for the vows I use here - her husband's vows; I fell in love with them and just had to share them in a short story with Vash! I hope one day we may all find someone who loves as ardently as that man loves his wife.

dividers

[strawurberries]

Rain

Summary: Vash has never experienced rain, but she is how he imagines it to all be.

Authors Note: Wrote this in one sitting, edited (lol not really) in one sitting, and posted this in one sitting. Guys I think I might be on drygs or something? This is scary how did I do this all so quick?

Warnings: Fem!Reader (she/her) pronouns, 3rd person writing.

Rain, as it had been described to him once, felt like feather light kisses upon sun-smothered skin; a relief that only the heavens would offer, and a delight that only the blessed could experience. As a child, Vash had been in awe, hoping that he would be able to one day feel such a thing. He could practically imagine it: the small, cool raindrops that would glide down his forehead, against the curve of his nose and over the corner of his mouth, finding its way over the edge of his chin. He could imagine the softness of his hair after the rain, the smell of wet Earth, and the calming energy that seemed to permeate the very air with its existence. After he wandered the deserts, though, he came to the realization that rain would never come to him, and he would only be able to imagine such an intimate touch by the skies—until the day she kissed the nape of his neck.

It was a hesitant, fluttery thing—as fickle as man’s nature yet as sweet as late night laughter. She had pressed her lips right above a jagged scar, deliciously gentle and faint. The ghost-like affection made him crave more, a thundering in his heart and an uncomfortable feeling blooming in the pit of his belly. With a small giggle, which he didn’t even know he had whispered out, and a vague stammer in his voice, he had asked what she was doing. 

And she, in all her holy-ness, had smiled and responded, “loving you as best I can.”

And this morning, when she had wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed the awkward jut of his spine, just below the back of his neck, she had said the same thing. With that sleepy, barely-awake-but-still-vaugely-there gravelly voice making his ears turn a faint red. He knew she could see that, and he knew that later she’d tease him, and then he’d pout and whine, and they’d laugh—but right now he didn’t want that banter. He wanted to enjoy the silent love that flowed through the warmth of her arms and the slight pain of her chin digging into his back as she stared up at the ceiling, counting spider-webs and the knots within the wooden beams. 

“Morning mayfly,” he tilted his head up as well, one hand squeezing her arm and the other dropping to his side. “How’d ya sleep?”

She hummed and pulled back slightly, “good. You?” A gentle kiss was pressed into the middle of his back, another one below, and one more above. Her nose dragged along his exposed flesh, hot and lightly layered in sweat from the sweltering heat of the day. Like raindrops, she indiscriminately showered him in divinity—a kiss there, a smile here, a squeeze of her arms, or the loving tone of her low, morning-sung humming. 

He hung his head and stared at her intertwined fingers. He wished he could lace his hand with hers; their bodies pressed so close together that every crevice and curve filled with the other's skin, morphing into a set of lovers who ascended beyond themselves, and came to understand each other in such entirety that they were nothing but one. He tapped the knuckle of her left ring finger, feeling the patterns on her flesh, memorizing her down to the atom. “Perfect,” he mumbled, “the best I’ve slept in a while.”

He could feel her grin, another raindrop of love pressed to his side, “good. You needed it.” She loosened her grip and opened her palms up, a silent question. He couldn’t help the bashful, knowing smile that tugged at his lips. Almost hesitantly, as if his touch could break her, he set his palm against hers. They slotted together like it was destined—it was the only thing that made sense anymore. The curl of her fingers and the awkwardly bent angle of his, the dip of her palm giving way for the hills of his. The feeling of being so full, so perfectly complemented, made emotions well up in his chest. His heart tightened and he remembered what he had been told about rain:

“The clouds hold the water until the pressure is so great, so overpowering, that they weep and burst. From the sorrow of the clouds comes the life below. Every horrible experience can be also understood to be a blessing by others. The clouds cry and the flowers drink.”

The love, he felt, would burst out his pores in waves of stuttering conviction and hidden affection that sometimes he, himself, didn’t understand. He could feel the waves of emotion tumbling over his heart and lungs, making his eyes sting with pain and pure adoration for the woman behind him, for the kindness she showed and the patience she held between her teeth.

The pitter patter of rain drumming against the edge of the human conundrum, the human condition, and the human experience. Everyone is so different, yet at their cores, all life requires the same of each other.

“I love you.”

Drip, drip, drip; each raindrop plays a part in a nature-wide symphony of music. The ancient song of life and everything that follows thereafter.

She gripped his hand and pressed her cheek against the rough edge of his shoulder blade. “I love you too.” As gently as the Earth accepted the rain, as the plants drank the water, and as the animals bathed in the heavens—as easily as they had listened to their natural instincts, she had admitted her love. Without doubt, without the pain of the clouds nor the hesitation that Vash showed in every action and movement, she had said the words he so desperately craved. 

He squeezed her hands, no longer knowing where his body began and her’s ended, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I love you.”

A rainstorm of kisses dripped down his spine, “I love you.”

Teardrops fluttered off his eyelashes, dripping onto their intertwined hands. Like rain, the tears slid across flesh and disappeared into the crevices of flesh. “I love you.”

Another raindrop, another smile, another tear, another burning confession.

The storm, it seems, will go on.

[beanibon]

hai (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

ive been reading your fics for a while now and i love them and look forward to each one 🩷

mayhaps i suggest one where vash get reader pregnant and it ignites more kinks?? lykk ugh ik breeding is such a heavy hc on vash so imagine whenever reader accidentally bumps her belly on any part of his body and his brain just *short circuits* 💥🥵 into a loving spiral of inappropriate thoughts--akdndnsomsnsjsndk feel free to disregard if u not comfy muah!

This gives such 98/BLR Vash vibes, so I hope you don't mind me incorporating that into this request. But honestly though interpret however you feel 💜

TW: dubcon, breeding kink, sex during pregnancy, creampie, vash calling himself daddy (cause he would), mummy kink, breastfeeding kink.

The moment Vash could see that beautiful baby bump it drove him crazy, worshipping your stomach every spare second, showering you in kisses. So the moment you grew bigger, waddling around the house you could only imagine how Vash reacted.

Every spare moment Vash found a way to pamper you, or coo at your stomach at your unborn child. You adored how enthusiastic he was, it was quite adorable.

For years he had only ever dreamed of having a child, now that dream was becoming reality. Vash could pamper you endlessly now, already finding out how holding your stomach had you sighing with relief. He found it cute.

Your soft called summoned him into the kitchen, happily skipping up to you. Loving greeting you with endless kisses to your beautiful neck, drinking in every giggle. You were so perfect to him, everything about you had him in giddy delight.

"Can you please grab those spices for me? It's hard to reach without hitting my stomach." Vash was happy to oblige, sidestepping around you to grab the spices. As he reached up, you turned, stomach bumping into his side.

Apologies spilt from your lips, but Vash heard nothing, mind far from blank with all the thoughts flashing through it. Unholy and very inappropriate thoughts.

The sensation of your curved stomach pressed into his side made him almost carnal, mind running wild with all the things he could do.

"Vash?" Your sweet voice drove him to look at you, smile wobbly. "You're hard."

Blinking, Vash looked down, jumping as he turned away. Shielding his erection with his jacket, he offered you an awkward grin, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead.

"Geez, sorry about that Mayfly, don't know what's happening there haha." His voice was flustered, silently willing his cock to unharden.

"Vash, if you're wanting sex I'm not at all offended by it, we're married you know." You teased gently, cupping his face to have him looking at you.

Excitement was evident in the way he looked back down at you, pulling closer until your baby bump pressed carefully against his stomach. It had his eyes rolling back into his skull, groaning at how his cock ached within his pants.

"Might wanna take dinner off the stove beautiful."

You had been placed comfortably on your side, Vash slipping a fluffed up pillow underneath your stomach. He was so gentle with everything he did, placing a leg over his shoulder to angle his cock perfectly inside your soft walls.

"Daddy's gonna make you feel so good, make you cum around my cock." Vash moaned, thrusts short and sweet.

Teeth grazed your leg, leaving small love bites wherever his lips touched. Vash was needy, with one hand placed so lovingly on your stomach, the other massaging your thigh. It drove you wild how his hands tenderly graced your skin, even if you did cringe slightly the moment he so proudly called himself 'daddy'.

"Go-gonna cum beautiful, pump you full of my seed until your swelling with more of my children," Vash shivered, eyes rolled back into his skull. "Gonna look so beautiful, daddy's gonna love you."

Your eyes squeezed shut as Vash's warm seed was pumped into your orgasming cunt, panting heavily as you leaned back, watching as Vash drooled at the sight. That hungry gaze had you sighing, knowing your sweet husband hadn't been satiated quite yet.

"Go on, I don't mind Vash." You encouraged, giggling at the way he kissed your stomach.

What you didn't expect was Vash flipping you on your back, instantly uncomfortable at laying flat. Your lungs were already struggling to suck in air, hands squeezing Vash's bicep as you tried to get him to prop something under you.

Only Vash didn't, the moment he saw you struggling, uncomfortable and squirming, it lit something primal in him.

The way your head was thrown back, crying out as Vash thrusted into you, watching as your swollen breasts bounced painfully at his rapid thrusts. Your large belly was bouncing slightly against his own stomach, and it only made Vash shudder and groan.

With your head pounding with an oncoming headache, whiny pleas spilling from your drooling lips. Crying out when rough hands pinched, pulled and massaged your bruised breasts.

Guilt started to form in the pit of Vash's gut, seeing his beautiful partner crying at his advances, but for some reason he couldn't stop, apologies fired rapidly your way. When his release was close he pulled out, fisting his cock until he was coming all over you.

The sight had Vash melting, seeing that beautiful stomach coated in his seed, he was swooning until your pained groaned had him scooping your body into his arms.

"I'm sorry Mayfly, you looked too gorgeous, please forgive me. Can I get you anything, water? Maybe some pain meds?" He rubbed your back, easing the tension that caused it to ache. You just nodded tiredly as Vash propped some pillows behind you, ensuring you were comfortable before running off to grab water and meds.

As Vash came sulking back, passing you the much required painkillers, he snuggled up to you, nuzzled into the side of your breast. You placed his prosthetic hand over your stomach, lips pressed onto Vash's forehead in a loving kiss.

"Please don't do that again sweetie, I know you've been holding back for months now, but I can't lay on my back anymore." You explained gently as if Vash was a child, fingers combing his spikey blonde hair.

"Of course Mayfly, I'm sorry." Vash hid his face in your neck, breathing in your natural scent.

His eyes drifted down to your breasts again, saliva pooling in his mouth once more.

"Hey Mayfly?"

"Yes Vash?"

"They say breastfeeding helps you bond with the baby."

"Yes, I know... what are you suggesting Vash?" Your voice held a warning tone, already gaining some idea as to where he was going with this.

"This baby also need to bond with its mummy."

"I swear to god Vash, you're not drinking my breast milk."

"Our child needs to learn to share with its daddy!"

You swore to only have one child after this, turns out Vash managed to persuade you to have three more.

Hope you enjoyed Anon! Love you all heaps 💜

[vashs-turtleneck]

Say my name.

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) Summary: After your heartfelt reunion with your boyfriend, Vash realizes how much he's missed hearing you say his name. Pairing: Eriks!Vash x fem!reader Word count: 6.5k Content: smut, angst, established relationship, oral, p in v sex, reunion sex, very service top Vash A/N: bro this took me so long. I put more effort into this than anything else I have ever written. Anyway, this is my first ever smut fic so uh please enjoy (had to make it eriks because he does things to my brain chemistry)

NSFW below, 18+ only, minors do not interact!

Vash holds your hand through the rickety, quaint house, helping guide you as you walk, avoiding the floorboards he knows creak louder than the others. As much as Granny and Lina adore you, he didn't feel like explaining why he was sneaking you in so late at night. Not only that, he didn't want to explain your relationship to them just yet. After all, the two of you haven't even gotten the chance to properly talk yet, about what your reunion after his two year absence means for you both.

Vash finally guides you into his little bedroom, quietly shutting and locking the door behind you two. He cringes at the how the door hinges creak loudly into the hallway, hoping it wasn't enough to wake anyone.

"So 'Eriks', huh? Did you pick the name all by yourself?" You tease him as your eyes dart around the room, taking in the space your lover has been living in these passed two years. Or... he was your lover. Is he still your lover? For all you know he found someone else during his time here. No, wait, that can't be right. He just snuck you into his bedroom.

Vash chuckles quietly, his gaze never leaving you. "Yeah... guess I did."

You can feel his eyes burrowing into you. His gaze follows you as you curiously take in the room, as you pat the bed draped in old linens, as you look out the window, taking in the scenery, the stars and moons illuminating the sky above. You've always had a tendency to look up at the sky.

God, you're as beautiful as he remembers.

He's pulled out of his own thoughts when you speak again, realizing he's been staring at you the whole time.

"Nice little spot you have all to yourself. Sheryl and Lina are both so sweet. They really do love you, I can tell. They're like family now, hm?" You say as your eyes finally meet his, your voice remaining soft, yet a hint of somberness weaving its way in. "You... You have a good life here."

You feel your heart start to beat faster, your head filling with a million questions that you're almost too scared to know the answers to. What if there was no room for you in his life anymore? What if he wanted to leave everything about his old self in the past, including you? What if, what if, what if...

You start to absentmindedly pick at the skin around your nails and rubbing your palms, subconsciously trying to calm and ground yourself. You're starting to lose yourself to your own mind, horrible thoughts filling your head like a poison.

Vash immediately notices the change in your tone, the subtle, shaky uncertainty in your voice, the way you anxiously play with your hands... Old habits die hard, huh?

"I do. The people here have been very kind to me. It's mostly quiet, apart from when I get myself into trouble. I'm grateful every day for it."

He takes a step towards you, his arms outstretched slightly.

"But, my life here is... incomplete without you by my side, mayfly."

He wants to hold you, feel your body against his, remind himself that you're really here, but he hesitates. What if you despise him for abandoning you? For leaving you behind to think he was dead? Worse, what if you hate him for the sins he's committed? For destroying July and taking the lives of its people? Not that he could ever blame you if you did. He hates himself for it. It's the whole reason he left you behind in the first place. How could he ever face you again after he became the walking demon with the 60 billion double dollar bounty on his head? He deserves every bit of venom spat his way for the things he's done, every bit of the nickname 'The Humanoid Typhoon'.

Yet, despite how much he knows he doesn't deserve you, he wants you so bad. Every moment without you had been agony. He didn't know where you were, how you were doing, if you were even alive. Hell, he wondered if he killed you in July too. So when he finally saw your face again, he swears he felt his heart beat for the first time in two years.

"Mayfly, I... I don't deserve you. I don't. I'm a monster." He takes another step towards you, trying to bridge the gap between you both. "...but I can't live without you. I... I need you. Here. With me."

He's fighting back tears, trying desperately to keep himself together. His vision is blurring from the tears pooling in his eyes, and all he can see is your wide-eyed expression. You're so beautiful, even if you might be about to break his heart.

"If you don't feel the same, I understand. If you want to hit me and yell at me for all I've done, I won't put up a fight. If... If you hate me-" Vash's words are cut short when you rush towards him and plant your lips against his in a feverish kiss, throwing your arms around his shoulders and clinging to him desperately.

Vash stays motionless and rigid in a moment of shock before he's flooded with relief at the feeling of your lips, your body, just you. His prosthetic naturally encircles your waist, pulling you in closer as his flesh hand tenderly cups your cheek, tilting your head to meet his lips with a practiced touch that makes it feels like you were never apart.

You became a shell of a person the day you watched him fall from the sky, like an angel stripped of their wings. You spent the passed two years believing, convincing yourself he had to be alive, or else you would have been lost completely.

With his lips finally pressed to yours, you feel whole again.

Vash can feel your lower lip tremble against his own, your tears mingling with his against both your faces as you each pull the other closer, closer, until there's no space left between your bodies, his stubble scratching your chin.

Your lips meet again and again, each kiss more desperate than the last, pants and sobs and the sounds of lips smacking filling the otherwise dead silent room.

"I missed you." You breathe against his lips, voice cracking from the overwhelming feelings of relief, love, and pain flooding you.

And Vash whines in turn, prosthetic tightening its grip around you.

"I missed you too. So much. Every day I thought about you." He whispers back, his voice strained, flesh hand pulling your face closer by the back of your neck. "I love you, I love you, I missed you."

"Love you too. Missed you so much..." Your voice comes out as a sob, trembling and broken. Your hands tangle into his soft locks. His hair is much longer now, the golden blonde mixing with dark raven.

You feel his tongue tease your lower lip, the warm muscle begging for entry, and you're happy to grant it. When your tongues entangle, he feels himself shudder with want, his body heating up as he gets reacquainted with the taste of your mouth. His hands move down your body, sliding down your waist, past your hips, and hooking themselves beneath the plush of your thighs. He lifts you up with ease, encircling your legs around his waist.

It's not close enough. He needs you closer.

He carries you to the edge of his bed, gently lowering you and as he towers over you, broad shoulders caging you in beneath him. He pulls himself from your lips and holds his weight on his hands, palms against the mattress beside your head. His face is flushed, lips wet with your kiss.

Vash is silent as he looks at your face, tears still staining his cheeks, his gaze reverent and adoring, yet filled with tragedy, like he almost doesn't believe you're real. His flesh hand cups your face again. His thumb traces your lips, your cheekbone, your jawline, his palm resting against your cheek. He takes in your features, committing the way your face has changed over the past two years to memory. You have new lines around your eyes, signs of how time kept passing for you, even without him around, signs of aging that he knows you won't see on his face. Fuck, he's lost this precious time with you, years he'll never be able to get back. Gone, just like that.

He'll be damned if he loses anymore time with you.

His hand trails down, thumb sliding along the side of your neck, down to the bit of your collarbone peeking from under your shirt. His breath hitches at the feeling of your soft skin beneath his hands, how your legs stay wrapped around his hips, your arms clinging to his shoulders like a lifeline. He can feel your body heating up at his touch, like it remembers him. He's missed you. He's missed your touch. So much.

"Please, I- I need to see you. Please." He begs, voice already breathless and needy.

"N-Need to see you too. I need you so much." Your voice comes out as a pathetic whine, but at this point you don't care. He's here. You have him again. You need him.

Vash wraps his prosthetic around your waist as he gently lifts your upper body up enough to pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. With your shirt finally off, you can feel contrast of his arms on your body, the cool metal of one, and the warmth of the other.

"I missed you. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for leaving you, mayfly. I'm so-"

You stifle his apologies with another hot kiss, your hands weaseling between your bodies and working quickly to take off his white button-up. Your fingers fumble with the buttons until his shirt is open, exposing the scarred muscles beneath. His hands leave you for just long enough to push the fabric off his shoulders. When his shirt is finally off, both his hands move to the back of your neck, pulling you in for another heated kiss, making you both groan into each other's mouths.

Your hands trail along his chest and back, tracing over the myriad of rough, raised flesh. Your touch is gentle, as though you're trying to heal him. He wishes you could. He wishes your touch could take away his 150 years of anguish, only made worse in your absence, and heal this body he's so carelessly destroyed. Yet, he knows he deserves every bit of it for what he's done. If nothing else, at least your touch is a momentary reprieve from it all, a moment for him to just be.

His hips twitch when he feels your hands trail down his chest, over his abdomen, to the hem of his pants, fingers working to undo his belt and buttons, working them off his body.

"M-Mayfly..." Vash mutters, his breath hot against your face. He works the rest of your clothes, practiced hands swiftly unclasping your bra before moving to peel off your pants, tossing the garments somewhere in the room, leaving you both in just your underwear.

Vash gently pushes your shoulders, moving you slowly like you're made of glass and laying you flat against the bed. He sits back on his knees to get a good look at you, propping himself between your thighs, his half-lidded eyes practically glowing as he drinks you in.

You're suddenly filled with this overwhelming shyness as you're laid almost completely bare in front of him. It's been so long since you've been looked at like this, and you can feel the heated rising to your face. Your body has naturally changed since he's last seen you, and the thought that he'll be disappointed weasels its way into your head, flooding you with insecurity. Without thinking about it, your hands move up to cover yourself, draping your arms over your chest and stomach.

Vash's gaze break from your body before darting up, his eyes softening when he sees your blushing and flustered face.

"Oh, sweetheart..." he coos, bringing himself down to pepper your face with soft kisses, stubble grazing your face. "Come on now. Don't hide from me. Please? I want to look at you. I love looking at you." His large hands gently wrap around your wrists, trying to coax you to uncover yourself. "Please. Let me see you. I missed looking at you so much."

Oh, how silly you are to think he'd look at you with anything but pure adoration and worship. He's only ever shown you love and acceptance, just as you have shown him. Vash can't even fathom the idea that you'd see yourself as anything other than breathtakingly perfect. Your body is his place of worship, every sound you make a prayer.

So, with a quiet whine, you let him pull your arms from your body, his hands gently pinning your wrists next to your head flat against the mattress.

"There you are..." Vash whispers adoringly, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of your nose before leaning back again to look down at you.

He takes in the sight of you beneath him for the first time in two years, his hands letting go of your wrists and tracing up and down your curves slowly, savoring the feeling of your warm and soft flesh. The world hasn't been kind to you in his absence, your body baring new scars he knows weren't there before, and he hopes to God you didn't get all those looking for him, sacrificing yourself for his unworthy soul.

"So beautiful, mayfly." Vash purrs. His hands trail up your middle, up your sternum, before parting to grope your breasts, thumbs rolling over the perked buds. The act sends a wave of heat straight down between your legs, your hips involuntarily writhing against the bed. In turn, your reaction makes Vash suck in a breath, his hips gently grinding against the plush of your thigh, letting you feel his hardened cock.

You both need this. Badly.

"Mmph- you like that, huh, baby? That feel good?" Vash whispers, voice hoarse with desire as he circles his thumbs over your nipples again, this time rolling his hips right against your clothed sex.

You howl at the pleasure, hips bucking to meet his own. You bite your lower lip to muffle your cries, nodding your head up at your lover. "M-Mhmm!"

With a lewd grunt, Vash brings his head down, pressing his lips to your inviting body. He sucks on your neck, nibbling and licking slowly and sensually, finding the spots he remembers would make your breath hitch, your back arch, and your grip tighten around him. He lets out a deep groan against your neck when you react the way you used to, your voice pitching up to a needy, wanton moan when he sucks on your neck just right. You tangle your fingers in his hair as shivers dance up your spine, rolling your hips up against his.

He leaves a trail of kisses along your form, giving special attention to any scars he comes across along the way, just as you had done for him countless times before. His lips reach your chest, kissing along your sternum before moving his mouth to one of your breasts, his skillful lips enveloping your perked nipple, tongue circling the peak. His hand moves up to massage your other breast, kneading the soft flesh in his palm.

And you can only do what your body tells you to, your voice quivering into what only comes so naturally to you when he's worshipping your body like this.

"Vash." His name leaves your lips as a broken moan, but they hit him like a typhoon, shattering him to pieces.

Vash's body tenses, all his actions pausing as his lips part from your nipple with a quiet smack, his hot, ragged breaths against the wet skin of your breast. He tilts his head up, bringing his face closer to yours, letting your noses brush and his forehead press intimately against yours. His beautiful baby blues drink you in, eyes upturned into a longing, pleading stare. His eyes captivate you, trapping you under his gaze. From this close, you feel like you could drown in them.

"Please... Say it again." His voice is raw, fragile, and begging.

You have to blink yourself out of your trance, completely ensnared by him. Even though he's the one begging you right now, with that look on his face, you'd do anything he asked. So, without hesitation, you say it again.

"Vash."

And he whimpers.

A name he hasn't heard in two years, lost to his new life. A name that, despite the heavy weight it carries now, was gifted to him by someone very important. A name that has always rolled of your tongue with a softness he never felt he deserved, that he used to hear you cry out over and over when your voice was pulled taut with pleasure. His name.

He didn't realize how much he missed hearing it, and especially how it sounds leaving your lovely lips.

"Again. Please."

"Vash."

"One more time. I beg you."

"Vash."

Vash groans again, his eyes fluttering before pressing his lips to yours again, catching your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls away.

"Mmph... Fuck, mayfly. The things you do to me."

His lips capture yours in a hot, wet kiss, tongues tangling, his hips undulating against yours and seeking out that little bit of friction between your bodies. He can feel the heat coming off your core against his hard cock, and his mouth waters as he thinks about how wet you must be right now.

"Need to taste you, mayfly."

Vash pulls back before he stands up between your legs and pulls you by your hips to the edge of the bed, grinding himself against your thigh again. His fingers hook to the elastic of your panties, his eyes not missing the wet spot forming on them already before meeting your gaze again. "Let me take these off you, baby."

And fuck, you are absolutely reeling right now, barely able to form a thought as he continues to handle your body with so much care and deadly precision, like he know it better than you. And really, he does. Despite the time you two have spent apart, his confidence in his knowledge of your body and his desire to please you is naturally weaving its way back into his mind like it's pure instinct. You can't tear your eyes from him as he stares down at you with the darkened, hungry eyes of a man that looks like he's just found his first sip of water in days on No Man's Land.

He tilts his head as you stare at him silently, taking in your half-lidded, hazy eyes. His fingers unhook from your panties, palms resting against your thighs.

"Mayfly? Do you want me to? I won't do it unless you tell me to."

You whimper needily, shifting your hips back and forth, unintentionally teasing him as your body begs for more of him.

"Please. Please, Vash. I need you to touch me." You beg, your voice shaking. You need him right now, both body and mind begging him to do something, anything to ease the ache between your thighs.

With a smirk that flashes his sharp canines and sends another shivering wave of heat to your core, Vash swiftly pulls your panties down your legs, letting them drop to the floor.

With you completely exposed to him now, Vash hooks his hands under your thighs, pressing your legs up and opening you up to himself, spreading you out on the mattress before him and watching as your slick drips from your sex as he practically folds you in half.

"Breathtaking." He purrs, staring down at your sweet flesh. "And so wet already."

"It's... It's because of you." You say back, your voice a pathetic, high-pitched whimper, feeling yourself pulse with anticipation.

Vash chuckles breathily, his eyes never leaving your sopping cunt as he lowers himself to his knees, propping himself between your thighs.

"I know it is."

With a soft sigh, Vash presses his tongue against your cunt, taking his time as his licks his way from your dripping entrance all the way up to your clit, gathering your sweet juices on the flat of his tongue with an audible eagerness. His mouth presses a fiery kiss to your clit, his lips wrapping around your little sensitive bud as his tongue flicks it with a skillful precision that is downright deadly, like it's all muscle memory coming back to him in this moment, as though his place in this world is right here between your thighs.

For Vash, you truly are an oasis on this desolate planet. In a life that's been so lonely and so filled with tragedy, you have been a solace that he never felt he deserved, yet he selfishly let himself indulge in. After being by his lonesome for so long, how could he ever turn away from your open arms? You unconditionally loved and accepted his broken mind and tattered body, and he was never able to deny your affections, no matter how much he told himself he didn't deserve them.

You are the only piece of heaven he's ever had.

"Mmmh... Taste so good, angel." He coos against your sex, licking his lips of your slick before tonguing another stripe up your cunt. "It's been too long. I'm absolutely parched for you, baby."

"Oh fuck, Vash!" You gasp out, your hands moving to tangle through his two-toned hair, holding it back and away from his face. You can feel his stubble grazing your plush folds as he eats you.

"Say it again, mayfly." He mutters against your cunt, the vibrations from his voice sending shocks of pleasure coursing through you.

Your mind is a pleasure-filled haze. You're barely able to think as your lover positively devours you, gorging himself on your dripping sex like it's more for his own pleasure than it is for yours.

"Ahh... w-wha-?" You manage to mumble, barely understandable.

His head pops up from between your thighs, hungry baby blues staring back up at you.

"My name. Say my name again for me, angel. Please."

"V-Vash..."

He growls as he dives back down to your cunt, his tongue teasing your entrance as his nose presses against your clit.

"Say it softer. Please."

"Vash..."

"Say it louder."

"Vash!"

His hips rut against the mattress as he pleasures you, pathetically rubbing his still-clothed cock against the old linen in tandem with his mouth. He can feel his boxer-briefs soaking up the pre-cum from his engorged tip. His body is aching for you, but he'll be damned if he doesn't make you come on his tongue at least once before he fucks you. He needs to taste you as you come.

His right hand slowly trails up the soft meat of your thigh, fingers dancing along your hot skin until they reach your pulsing flesh, swirling his fingers over your wet heat. Then, he gently presses his middle finger inside you, the long digit curling and pressing against your warm walls, gently stretching you as he takes you apart from the inside out.

You have to throw your hand over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in white hot pleasure, hips undulating against his mouth and hand, seeking out more of the pleasure he's giving you.

"This okay, mayfly? Feeling good?" Vash whispers before circling his tongue over your clit again.

You don't trust yourself to speak right now, instead nodding your head frantically as you moan and wail silently against your hand.

Vash groans hoarsly when he sees just how well he's taking you apart, eyes fluttering closed as he focuses entirely on your pleasure. When he feels your body relax around his finger, he slips in a second digit, his dexterous middle and ring fingers meticulously and lovingly abusing that sweet spot inside you until he has you seeing stars behind your eyelids.

Your hand gently tugs at his hair, biting into your palm and clenching your eyes tight, your thighs trembling against his head. You pull your hand away from your lips just long enough to call out to him, your voice breaking, your body ready burst, "Vash! M' gonna c-come..."

He growls against you when he hears his name leave your sweet lips in a such desperate tone, tongue lapping away at you more eagerly, your juices dripping from his hand.

"Yes, baby. Come. Come all over my tongue. Wanna taste you..." he grunts, panting as he fucks you with his tongue and fingers and grinds himself against the mattress. Fuck, he's gonna come all over himself if he doesn't reel it back.

His mouth devours you, digits pumping faster into your fluttering cunt as he chases your high.

When Vash feels your body tighten and convulse against his fingers, your sweet whimpers filling his ears, he moans louder than you, as if your pleasure is his pleasure, and it takes every bit of willpower in him to not come along with you.

Vash has always denied himself the pleasures in life, deeming himself unworthy for the sins he believes he's committed. But when it comes to you, to your pleasure, he's always eager to let himself indulge, his tongue lapping away at your sex like your come is a reward for his efforts until his mouth is dripping with you.

When he feels your body relax, your muscles unflexing, he licks one last strip over your cunt before pulling his mouth and fingers away. He licks your sweet cream from his digits, his other hand removing the boxers that have grown unbearably tight from his lower half. Slowly, almost like he's reluctant to leave his place from between your thighs, he raises himself up and towers over you again.

"You're so perfect, angel." He whispers, voice hoarse with desire, and you can see his need from the way his cock twitches as he stares down at you, his big hands holding you by the softness of your thighs. He brings his pelvis forward, gliding the hard length of himself along your dripping pussy, coating himself with a mix of your come and his own saliva.

"Vaaash~" You call to him weakly, your head still fogged from your intense orgasm, but your body craving him. Your hips rise to meet his own, and he grinds against you more desperately.

"You want this, angel? Wanna feel me inside you?" His tone is breathy and light, almost teasing, but you know more than well enough that what he's seeking right now above all else is your consent. How you got so lucky as to find yourself such a caring and thoughtful man (plant) is beyond you.

"Want it more than anything, angel." You purr back, using the loving nickname he's given you back at him as your hands reach for his shoulders. Because let's be honest, if anyone is deserving of the nickname, it's him.

A soft smile crosses his face when he sees you reach for him and, like a moth to a flame, he leans down towards your touch. One of your hands clasp over his shoulder, gripping him and pulling him closer to you. The other traces your thumb over his cheekbone, your finger dancing over that adorable birthmark under his left eye.

"Don’t go stealing my words now, mayfly." He teases back before his lips cover yours. When he pulls away, you feel him pant against your face, his body shaking and his cock gliding over you folds. Despite how much he's been holding back, putting your pleasure far before his own, you can feel now just how badly he wants this. He's at his limit.

Still, a pang of concern crosses over his handsome features, always thinking of you despite the agony he's in right now.

"If... If it hurts, I want you to tell me. Tell me and I'll sto-" You shush him before he can keep going, your thumb quickly moving from his cheekbone to his lips.

"You won't hurt me, Vash." You whisper tenderly, trying to ease the worries undoubtedly forming in that pretty head of his.

Hìs face softens again, his expression changing from one of concern to one that can be described as nothing short of reverent. His eyes might as well be hearts from the amount of love you see in them. With a shaky sigh, he nods his head once, and you move your hand from his face to his other shoulder, holding him tightly against you.

"Alright." He places doting little kisses to your temple and cheek, his hands on your thighs gently parting your legs further. "Let me take care of you, mayfly."

One of his arms weaves its way between your bodies, grasping his cock and aligning himself with your inviting entrance, placing a gentle pressure against your core with the tip of his cock. Vash's gaze never breaks from yours as he slowly sinks himself into your tight heat, the head of his cock splitting you open as he sheaths himself inside you, his mouth falling agape with a mewling whimper as he feels every inch of your sweet warmth.

Your breath hitches as he presses himself inside you slowly, your body taking him inch by sweet inch until he gently bottoms out, your nails digging slightly into his broad shoulders. You can feel him stretching you out on his thick cock, a mixture of the sweet sting and pleasure filling your entire body. You take in deep breaths to calm and relax yourself, your eyes fluttering up at your lover.

You're everything he's ever wanted, everything he's ever needed, everything his soul craves and begs for. He caresses your thigh and whispers between gasping breaths, a sweet smile on his face as your catch your breath, "You're okay, mayfly. Relax. Take your time. Tell me how you feel. I'm here with you, all the way." He coos, peppering your cheeks and neck with soft kisses as he whispers gentle words of praise and encouragement. His expression is one of pure love and adoration, seeing your body relax as you adjusts to his, your walls moulding to his cock, your breath slowly coming back to you.

"A-Ah... I need you to move, Vash. I think I'll explode if you don't move right now." You whine, hips bucking and writhing against his own, begging him to fuck you already.

His adoring smile never falters, chuckling breathily as you beg for him.

Fuck, he's missed feeling needed.

"Well, we wouldn't want that now, would we?" He teases with a shit-eating grin that splits his perfect face. He places a tender kiss between your brows before gazing back down at you.

"Hold on tight now," he purrs against the shell of your ear, tightening his grip on your thigh, his prosthetic palm pressing against the mattress by your head. He's trying so hard to keep himself together, but you can feel his arm shaking from the sheer euphoria as he supports his weight.

Gently, he pistons his hips against yours, his cock gliding along your inner walls at a sweet and tender pace and giving you the chance to adjust to the feeling of him stretching you out. As fogged as his mind is right now in a haze of lust and need, he is still acutely aware of you, and it would break him more than anything if he hurt you.

Vash stares down at where you two connect so intimately, watching how your body engulfs his cock over and over and coats his shaft with your arousal.

"You feel so good, mayfly. Taking me so well, like your body remembers me," Vash praises you sweetly, his face falling to the crook of your neck.

"V-Vash..." you mewl, thighs gripping his waist tighter, cushioning his hips as he pumps you full of himself. "Feels so good. M-More, please. I need you more."

"Of course. I'll give you more," he whispers, his voice dripping with tender affection as his hands move to your thighs, lifting them up and hooking your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half again. You moan wantonly at how deeply he can reach in this position, the head of his cock kissing your cervix.

Vash increases the pace, his thrusts gradually growing more deliberate and quick, pumping into you so deliciously that he wrings out every sweet sound you can make from your throat. He rocks his hips, his muscles tightening and relaxing as he pushes himself all the way in and pulls back out again, letting himself feel every inch of your velvety walls. Every pump of his hips has him pulling himself out to the hilt, leaving just his hot tip inside, giving you no time to breathe before he pushes himself back inside again, fucking you deeper and harder than before. Every time he pulls out, he sees your lips part slightly as you wait for him to ram back inside. And he does, over and over, making both of you moan louder as the room fills with the sounds of skin slapping.

"I love you, I love you! P-Please, please don't leave me behind again. Stay. I need you!" You cry out in rapture, tightening your grip around him and pulling him so his patchwork chest is against yours, your breasts squeezing and bouncing against his pecs.

"I'm here, mayfly. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I can't- I'd die without you. I love you too much." He grunts against the side of your face, the sound of his labored breaths filling your ears.

He thrusts into you faster and harder now, the withered bed creaking and groaning beneath you both along with the sounds of your pleasured cries.

"Mmm~ Vash... Feels too good. Gonna come. Gonna make me come."

Your words break the last bit of restraint in his lovedrunk mind, grunting loudly against your ear.

"Fuck, say it again. Say it- Say it like you missed me. Like you thought of me every day. The way I thought about you."

"Vash!"

You can feel your body quivering and pulsing around him, and it only makes Vash moan louder, your pussy practically sucking him back in every time he pulls away. He moves a hand from your thigh to thumb at your swollen clit, desperate to feel you come undone around him.

"That's it. That's it! Mmm fuck~ I can feel it. Say it as you come all over me, baby. Please. Please."

Your orgasm hits you like a sandsteamer, your back arching harshly off the bed before you even have the chance to cover your mouth, crying out his name with a melodic and broken moan.

"Va- Vash!"

He's quivering, his grunts and breaths shaky as he feels your pussy clench around his aching cock like your body is trying to milk him for all he's worth.

"Ahh- S' too good... M' gonna c-come, mayfly. Gonna come with you."

Vash bites his bottom lip, trying to stifle the sounds of pure agonizing rapture, only for your name to leave his lips like a beautiful song to the heavens as he spills himself deep inside your heat. His hips stutter as he fills you with his hot come until you feel like you're bursting, hips slowing and gently rocking into you as you both ride out your highs until they gradually come to a stop. He feels his muscles go limp, pressing his weight down on you more than he means to as he collapses against your smaller frame. He covers your temple and cheeks with weak, tired kisses, whispering sweet words of affection until you've both gathered your minds a bit more.

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you." He chants over and over again with every breath like a prayer, eyes closed, relishing the feeling of euphoria filling his body.

He stays inside you well after you've both come down for your climaxes, cockwarming you on his thick shaft like he can't bare the thought of ever being separated from you again. But when he feels his cock softening, he carefully pulls out of you with an almost pained groan, disappointed at the loss of your warmth but his body completely satisfied and drained regardless. When he sits back on his knees and sees his seed spilling from your dripping hole, he groans, cursing under his breath. The sight is enough to get him hard all over again.

_________________________

After a night full of round after round of hot and passionate lovemaking, your exhausted bodies lay beside each other. The sheets are wet and tangled, your bodies slick with a mix of your arousals, but you're both far too content and tired to care about the mess right now, enveloped in each other's embrace.

"Mmh... bed's comfy. I see why you like it here," You coo against his head, his hair tickling your nose.

"Having a bed to sleep in has definitely been nice. Beats sleeping out in the desert," He mumbles and pulls you in closer to himself, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble scratching at your skin.

"But this bed might as well be a bed of sand if I can't sleep in it with you, mayfly."

"Always such a smooth talker," you chuckle at him. Then, your smile turns to a look of reluctance as you gently raise your head. "But I should probably go, huh? Don't wanna explain to Granny and Lina what I was doing here in the morning."

"Well, you were doing me." Vash snickers back at you, eyebrows wiggling teasingly.

"You're hilarious," you scoff with a deadpan stare, but you can't help the little amused smirk forming on your lips, "I'm glad to see your sense of humor hasn't gone anywhere."

He chuckles against the hollow of your throat, his lips ghosting over your skin.

"I know, I know. It's just one of my many charms."

"You won't need to say anything to them. I'll do all the explaining for you." His grip tightens around your waist, any thoughts of leaving the bed vanishing from your mind. How could you leave after everything that's happened? After you've both finally found your ways back to each other?

"Besides, they might already know you're here. We weren't exactly... uh, quiet." He chuckles nervously, and you can feel his face heating up as he thinks about just how much noise the two of you were making. You feel your own face heat up too. Yeah, the morning's gonna be a bit awkward.

Vash grips you tighter, his warm body flush against yours, clinging to you.

"Stay, mayfly. I need you."

Your body settles back into the bed, cuddling yourself up against the man you love most, and the world feels a little brighter.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

[chris-continues]

Good Luck Kisses

SPECIAL THANKS to @linkdedruid for beta reading!

TW: suggestive (making out + nothing explicitly sexual stated or written)

TAGS: @millionsvash @vashfantasy @beanibon @astrathecowboy @captaintweet @lune010 @h4venpha (I hope you enjoy this! <3)

NOTES: I’m planning on writing a part two during/after the concert with Livio! I had sm fun writing this hehe :) note that Livio and Wolfwood are platonic since they are brothers.

Inspired by this

“Kiss please?” Vash wraps his arms around your waist, drumsticks tossed onto the couch out back as his voice rumbles against your neck. His nose is already nuzzling against you, lips brushing your neck tentatively.

“What, so you can use me as your good luck charm?”

“Baby..” he whines, but soon he’s grinning. You can feel it, his smiley cold against your skin. Then you smell the smoke. You’re fucked. Perhaps literally. Your other boyfriend’s hands, hot, heavy, and calloused from playing guitar grasp your hips and spin you so your back is against his chest. The metal of his rings against your flushed skin sends shivers up your spine as he mouths at your neck. “Give needle noggin what he wants, you tease.”

“You’re-“ shit, you have to take a breath, “you’re calling me the tease?” Ah, the goddamn irony.

The slightly acrid smell of smoke presses closer to you, persisting. The heat of both him and Vash only serve to make you squirm further. Vash’s flesh hand rises to cup the left side of your face, his prosthetic settling on top of Wolfwood’s on your hip.

“Please?” He pleads, and fuck, if that isn’t the best thing you’ve ever heard. “..need you, mayfly. Every show goes well when you kiss me, please baby..” his voice shifts to a whine. He’s so beautiful, long eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he bats them to look at you with a slight pout.

“C’mon, sweetheart..” Wolfwood’s voice rumbles by your ear, his stubble against you. It’s almost comical how your knees almost buckle from their collective ministrations of just pressing close to you and speaking- especially when you truly didn’t need any convincing to kiss them, you’d do it any day.

But fuck, them convincing you was hot as hell.

Wolfwood’s thumb runs circles against your hip, lifting the hem of your shirt slightly. The sensation is addictive, and you can’t help but lean back against him.

He clicks his tongue, “Listen to blondie,” the bridge of his nose is pressed to the side of your face, brushing the high point of your cheekbone, “Or I’ll stop and leave ya high and dry.”

At this, Vash simply presses closer so his lips are brushing yours, prompting you to just press the slightest bit closer.

And they call you the tease. Hypocrites.

When you finally lean in to initiate, he keens happily and eagerly presses into you, pushing you further into Wolfwood whose tongue is languid against your neck. The sensation of both of their tongue piercings on the sensitive skin of your neck makes you gasp, which Vash quickly uses to his advantage as he sandwiches you tighter between him and Wolfwood.

They’re both dizzying, making you feel lightheaded- as if you’re ascending onto some astral plane or whatever. Love, you guess. They’re so sweet, so loving, caring, and make you feel so full. Pressing close to them like this isn’t enough, you need to melt into them and simply be one. To feel them against you all the time. You’d never minded being their good luck charm, using that as an excuse to pull more kisses from you. It’s a funny bit, one that allows Vash to pepper kisses onto your face, or for Wolfwood to kiss you stupid against a wall before tickling you like the ass he is.

Wolfwood’s hands run up your sides (not tickling you this time), dipping under your shirt to caress the skin and returning so his thumbs dimple your hips in a way he absolutely loves to articulate to you with heavy breaths,

“You love the way my hands engulf you? Hm?”

“Y- yeah,” your voice is breathy and light thanks to Vash who pulls you back for more, a high pitched whine escaping his throat. You can feel Wolfwood’s groan rumble from his chest at the sight, staccato tapping and drumming of his fingers on your hips as the calluses on his fingertips run across your midriff. Their touches are languid and all encompassing, engulfing you whole and each sensation is almost too much, yet there’s always the desire and need for more. Wolfwood’s words remain ever so salacious, muttering filthy sentiments to you that work both you and Vash up. It’s funny- you’d consider Vash to be a smooth talker but Wolfwood has a way with words in private, cutting to the chase and managing to let loose even more. "So soft.." Vash whines, the noises of your lips meeting growing more obscene by the second. His tongue piercing chills you, cold metal a definite contrast to his soft yet chapped lips. "..'y always feel so good mayfly," fuck, why did they want to rile you up like this right before a show? How much time did you even have? They still needed to rehearse and- god, it's hard to focus when you're lightheaded from the two of them toying with you. A small squeak from the corner of the room catches Wolfwood's attention- his irritated groan turns into a snicker. "Hey, Liv. Care to join?" You can practically picture the shit eating grin on his face. (Knowing him, he's half joking. ) If you didn't enjoy seeing your other other boyfriend flustered, you'd pity him. "Meryl, uh, sent me to get you guys. Gotta rehearse 'n whatnot.." His breath hitches when you try to pull away from Vash to look at him- in dissent, he openly whines into your mouth. Goddamn tease. "But you're uh, busy, so-" "Livio.." It's painfully obvious how he stiffens up, almost as if he's touched a live wire. Like he's been shocked. You had such an effect on him, and Vash was gracious enough to pull away to allow you to call out to him. His eyes are fixated on both you and Vash, an audible gulp erupting as Wolfwood only watches in amusement. "Hurry up! Are we having a show or not?" Meryl yells out for you all, "We're waiting!" Vash pulls away, to his dismay, his eyes soft as he gifts you with a goodbye peck and starts to head out with Livio. "He'll make it up to you after the show, I'll make sure he doesn't chicken out." Wolfwood mutters, moving a hand to your back pocket, "Meet me later, though?" A chaste kiss is pressed to the crown of your head as you give your assent, nodding happily. That is, until he squeezes your ass- "Hey!" You playfully nudge him with your elbow, to which he only chuckles.

"Blondie forgot his drum sticks." He clicks his tongue to his teeth, "You mind pickin' them up?" With his cheeky smile, you can't help but roll your eyes at his ulterior motives. Your boyfriend really was an ass man, huh. Nevertheless you indulge him, bending to grab the aforementioned drumsticks and returning to Wolfwood's side, readying yourselves for the night ahead.