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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 months ago

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Vash being flustered by compliments, acting like a total loser please? Lots of “Buwuhh?! uhhh I- That’s really kind of you to-” or him spilling his drink, stumbling on nothing and trying to laugh it off, moments would be extremely appreciated. 🙏♥️

Aweeee thanks for this request!

(note I wrote this with Tristamp Vash in mind)

...........

"You know..your laugh is adorable."

In an instant, Vash fell into silence, the tips of his ears turning a pinkish hue as he stared at you from across the table. With a drink in one hand, he shakily set it down--only to clumsily spilling small droplets onto the flat surface.

But he tried to play it cool by propping his elbow over the mess, smiling. "Ahaha..thanks. That's...actually very nice of you to say. Most people think my laughs are "evil", but-"

"Oh that's nonsense." You leaned over a bit, smirking as you could see the nervous sweat beginning to manifest along your partner's hairline. "That's because they don't know what genuine laughter is. One as joyous as yours is so hard to come by these days. You've been through a lot. Endured things that would easily kill a person's spirit. And here you are, still finding ways to laugh and smile and see the good in others."

"Well..I..I think I deserve to do that every once in a while."

"Of course you do. Your smiles are brighter than the damn sun...and your hair, for that matter. But all that kindness and hope? Your emphasis on "love and peace"? That's attractive."

Your wink is what nearly sent the Humanoid Typhoon over the edge, as he squeaked in surprise at your words, before noticing Meryl, Roberto, and Wolfwood at their own table, having a chat about the worms in the sand and sky...only for their gazes to land on him.

Knowing smirks appeared on their faces when they realized what was going on.

You were flustering the hell out of Vash.

It only made his growing blush worsen, and he sheepishly threw his hood over his head to hide it, turning back to you. "Th-They're watching us, you know.." He mumbled.

"So what? Let them watch. They already know how smitten you are over me, anyway." You chuckled and reached a hand out. His advanced prosthetic fingers instinctively reached back, intertwining their coldness with your warmth. "I love your arm, too. It's amazing, perfect...just like you, honey."

"Ah...! Thank you...h-honey. Haha.." At this point, he knew he lost the war..you were just too damn good at this. Pushing away your compliments was useless now, so he resolved to just covering his face with his free hand.

His heart was hammering uncontrollably, and for once in his life..it wasn't due to the adrenaline of fleeing from gun-totting bandits or cyborgs.

It was because of love.

The very thing he hoped to stand for.

Ever since getting together with Vash, and learning how hard he often was on himself..you made it your mission to let him know how much you adored him.

He was afraid you'd be scared off by the bounty on his head, or the fact he had to constantly be on the move...or that a whole town could turn on him at the drop of a hat....or that twin brother of his would find you two.

But you've made it clear time and time again that you weren't leaving his side no matter what, and by god you were sticking to that promise even when he attempted to push you away a few times before.

You'd go anywhere in No Man's Land, unless it wasn't with him.

The moment he realized you're in this for the long run, you helped him let his guard down a little, defending his name and trying to show him common traditions of human couples--or at least..whichever ones you could recreate on this planet.

Even when you weren't around him, people would ask what "horrors" you've faced during your encounters with the "terrifying" Vash the Stampede, imagining you barely escaping with your life while he smiles and laughs at the mass destruction and death that surrounds him..

But what they don't know (and probably never will) is that his smiles and laughs were simply the products of your endless ways of complimenting him...such as right now.

You had this man--who had the power to bring down an empire if he wanted to--stammering over his words, acting incredibly shy, and being unusually giggly. And he's barely touched a drop of liquor since your small group stopped in the bar for refuge from the desert heat.

Some of the patrons wondered how drunk he was to be acting the way he did, while others looked upon you two with fondness, now convinced that love may not be dead just yet.

As long as Vash was here, that will continue to exist, and you'll be there to show him that he's worthy of it, too.

#uheehee i love him'#i finally get the appeal yall #clanask #anonymous #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader #vash the stampede #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #tristamp vash #fluff

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ohitslen · 1 year ago

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What if I draw happy Vashwood for a change, any ideas?

#look I am a person who actually draws fluff most of the time #sparkles pink love love kind of stuff. I adore! but I also have this thing for hurt and blood and angst and yk Vashwood is right. there.#but I mean I would also like to draw them all cute and lovely so I’d like to do that #I have an idea or two but I would like to see if anyone here wants to share #don’t expect a big thing they’d be sketches. unless I get carried away as usual LMAOOOO #nicholas d wolfwood #vash the stampede #trigun #vashwood

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strawurberries · 2 years ago

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Stretchmarks

Summary: Vash learns about those little markings he's seen on his lover, and oh God does he fall head over heels.

Authors Note: This is written with Tristamp! Vash in mind, and this idea was sparked by this post :) This is written as a fem! reader. I hope you all enjoy! (Also, here's your tag @blackkiwi! I hope you like it :) I went in a bit of a different direction so I might revisit this idea in the future!!)

Warnings: Mild nudity, sexual themes, self-hate.

Vash didn’t understand it—how could someone so beautiful, holding something so unique and precious, hate themselves and their markings? He felt bad for staring, he really did, but the damp air from the shower seemed to settle around her, water droplets becoming stars and her eyes morphing in a galaxy of possibilities. She, though, didn’t seem to understand his awe. All she saw was the man she loved staring at a part of her she didn’t hate, per se, but rather didn’t love completely. He knew he should’ve looked away, apologized and let her know that he was stunned with adoration, not disgust. Yet he didn’t. Like the fool he was, and always will be, he didn’t have the bravery to confess.

“Ah, sorry,” with a nervous grin she had tried to cover her hips, where the most prominent of her stretch marks were. “I didn’t know you were coming back so soon.” She grabbed her things and shuffled back into the bathroom, wearing only her underwear and a towel loosely draped over her shoulder, “I was just getting my clothes.” With a quiet click, the bathroom door shut and the room was plunged into a somber darkness.

Idiot, he bit at himself, why did you just stare? The patterns though, those curlings lines and loveable little dots and spots, it reminded him of himself; when he looked in the mirror and saw his face staring back, covered in blue lines that marked him as alien, foreign. Was she. . . like him? He turned to look at the bathroom door, listening to the quiet rustling within. No, he thought, she’s human. But there was something so remarkable about those lines, he couldn’t stop thinking.

Like me, she’s like me.

Later they sat in their shared room, the silence acting as a tyrant, holding its grip tight and solid over the melancholic atmosphere. Neither one had spoken since she had retreated to the bathroom an hour earlier; she being silent out of fear and embarrassment, and he out of nervousness and curiosity.

After finishing getting ready for the night, she laid in her bed across the room. Vash, on the other hand, was sitting criss-crossed in his, staring at his fumbling hands.

“You know,” he said, cringing at the abruptness of his voice, “I think you’re really pretty.”

She shuffled slightly in bed, blankets falling off her shoulders, “thank you, I appreciate it. You’re pretty as well.”

He blushed at the compliment—thump, thump, thump, beat his heart. It roared at him to confess, to open his mouth and say everything he wanted too. He didn’t. He fiddled with his hands and lightly tapped his cheek to cool the scorching redness that had overtaken him. “Earlier,” his voice was quiet, a pip-squeak of a noise, “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s okay.”

He started to disengage his prosthetic arm, small clicks and whirs making the silence seem louder than before. “I—” he gently set his arm on the ground beside his bed, rubbing the raw and sore flesh. He didn’t often sleep without his arm, for a fear of being attacked in the middle of the night, but his body couldn’t handle it much longer. It pulled and gnawed on his shoulders, making his entire body ache with a pain he can only describe as deafening. “I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings, but if I did, I apologize.”

She finally turned over, watching as he hopelessly stared at her with a twinge of fear and. . . something else she couldn’t describe. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she smiled softly, “I was jus’ thinking.” She could never be mad at him—not that she was mad at him in the first place, in fact, she had only felt mild embarrassment towards the whole situation. The day had been long, and even if he hadn’t caught her getting out of the shower, she would’ve been quiet and exhausted—, and looking at him now only made her feel like she was gazing at a kicked puppy.

He tilted his head, “about what?”

“My body,” she huffed and sat up, “you know those days?’ Her voice was a little quiet, less teasing than it usually was, and so, painfully somber.

He understood. Sometimes he’d sit out in the desert, watch the sunset and wonder why he felt so unnatural; as if he wasn’t a person, but a thing occupying space in a body that didn’t belong to him. And sometimes he’d cover up mirrors with his coat, afraid to look into them and see what he really looked like. And other times he’d look down at himself and shove back the tears because he was a mural of pain and he wouldn’t have it any other way but God, did he wish there were other options. And sometimes he’d simply lay in bed and think about everything he hated about himself, starting with his personality and then moving on to his actions, and then he’d think about his body and then he really felt the pain because he belonged to this prison of flesh and bone, this sacred thing, and he had managed to decimate it in so many ways it would never be able to recover. And, sometimes, he hated how he looked because she deserved better. And sometimes he, without any reason really, despised the man he was, and the way he looked. So, yes, he understood those days. He understood better than anyone really; and it made his heart hurt thinking she had felt the same way.

In his eyes she was the most beautiful thing. She rivaled the stars, the ones he watched on that ship all those years ago. The greenery of flora and the nature of Earth couldn’t even compare. And even if some Goddess was to descend from the heavens, bearing all her glory and luxury at her bosom, he would deny it and find himself back in her arms. In his eyes, she was worth everything and more.

He stumbled over to her bed, momentarily forgetting himself as he slammed into the mattress with an abundant lack of grace and caution. “I get it, I do,”

She blinked at him.

“Somedays I–I hate myself and sometimes I can’t even look in the mirror, and really almost everyday I can’t even look at myself,” he forgot he had taken his prosthetic off, trying to grab her face with his hand. He paused and cursed a little under his breath, stub awkwardly hanging between them. “I forgot I took that—okay whatever,” he used his other hand to grab her face, fingers tracing her jaw, “but you know what makes me feel better about myself?”

She huffed a little and laughed, crossing her arms. “What?” she asked playfully.

“You.”

She smiled softly, “I’m glad I can help.” A little sliver of anxiety still rested in her eyes.

He took a deep breath and steeled his resolve. “Yeah, so, let me help you this time,” he sat back on his knees, suddenly realizing how close he was. “If–if that’s okay. . .?” All his confidence, his burning determination to help, dissipated into the air and floundered about his mind in a wave of unease and mild embarrassment.

She glanced down at herself, thumbing the edge of her shirt before nodding, “alright,” she wrapped her arms around his neck, “you’ve convinced me.” She gave a nervous smile, one unsure of what was going to happen but trustful in the one before her—she had no doubts that he would keep her safe, happy, and comfortable.

He let out a goofy grin, slowly pushing her back onto the bed, “okay so um,” he stared down at her, blushing a delicious red as he slowly came to understand what position they were in. Her arms were slightly settled to the side, hands above her head and chest slowly rising with each suspenseful breath. Utterly divine, was the only description he could think of. “Uh, could you. . uh, take your shirt off, maybe?” He wanted to cry when he realized his voice had cracked—uncool, so uncool.

She laughed, “alright, what are you really trying to do?” She grabbed the ends of her shirt and whisked it off, tossing it somewhere in the room. Neither of them really cared where it landed.

He waved his hand in the air and panicked, “no! No! I promise I’m not trying to do anything like that unless you want that—or, I mean, not right now! Uh, sorry!” His hands slapped over his face, covering the vague blue markings that had begun to peak through his skin.

She let out a boisterous laugh and grabbed his hips, lovingly drawing circles into his skin, “calm down, I was joking, pretty boy.”

The tips of his ears turned red, nearly drowning out his wonderful, brilliant blue, “pretty boy,” he mumbled. “Where’d that come from?” he squeaked out.

“Jus’ tellin’ the truth,” she hummed, “now, why is my shirt off?”

“Oh!” his hands flew off his face and came to settle on her torso, nervously pressing into her skin. “I wanna—well, can I see your markings?” he leaned a little closer, tempted to put his forehead to hers, but he was too scared—what if she knows what that means? What if she hates doing that? What if she hates me?

“Markings?” she raised an eyebrow, “what do you mean?”

“On your hips.”

“Hips?”

He gently hooked the edge of her pants, looking up at her for permission and when she gave it, he pulled them down slightly, revealing the little lines he had been so obsessed with earlier. Despite everything in him trying to keep his smile back, he couldn’t. “These,” he mumbled, tracing the marks with his fingers. His markings, no longer dull and scared, flowed to the surface of his skin and danced along his fingers. “They’re really pretty.” He wanted to see them in their entirety, observe how they rested along her skin and how they intertwined with one another—that would require less. . . clothing, and the thought made him blush madly, making his markings blink a bright blue for a moment.

She grabbed his hand and gave him a questioning look, “they’re not markings, they’re stretchmarks.”

He tilted his head.

“It’s like. . . little scars from when our skin stretches or shrinks too fast,” she smiled somberly, “they’re not as precious as your markings.”

He huffed and went back to caressing her skin, “I still think they’re amazing.”

“Not many people do,” she closed her eyes and savored the feeling of his touch, “so I appreciate it. Thank you.”

He hesitated and pulled his hands back, “do you. . . do you have more?”

She hummed.

“Can I see them? If that’s okay with you?!”

She sighed and opened her eyes, “you love them that much?” A slight bit of hesitance, disbelief.

A child-like joy seeped into his voice, “yes! They’re like mine, but they’re so much prettier.”

She blinked, a small embarrassed expression coming to rest upon her face. “I mean, if you really want, I can show you.”

He grinned excitedly and sat patiently on the bed as his lover slowly shimmed out of her pants, leaving them hidden by only two, thin articles of clothing that covered barely anything (not that he minded, but he was trying his hardest to focus on the markings solely—he didn’t want to be a creep. He was also trying to ignore the fact that this was only the third time he had seen her so vulnerable before. It made his heart soar, thinking that she trusted him so). After a moment, she returned back to bed and presented her thighs, where stretch marks were painted across her skin like a mural of heaven. “Here’s some more. They’re mostly on my legs and hips.”

“Oh,” he breathed out, “they’re a lot prettier up close.” He leaned down and pressed his forehead to her legs, closing his eyes. For a moment, he could’ve sworn he felt her very soul, as if he was connecting to a plant, and he shuddered out a sigh. “So, so, pretty.” He was lost in her now, gently tracing his fingers along her skin, nose buried into the side of her leg and he cherished every giggle and breathy laugh that came from his lover.

“I never knew you’d like ‘em so much,” she tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging slightly when he got a little too dazed and trailed his head up further than he should’ve.

He kissed the inside of her thigh, “they’re so. . . you’re so beautiful.”

She smiled softly, “you are too.”

The compliment flew over his head, focused solely on the Goddess before him. The divinity that had graced his presence. He sloppily kissed her thigh again, trailing his love up and up and—

She tugged on his hair, “hey,” she warned, “you’re getting a little too close there, pretty boy.”

He stared up and blinked, chin settled in between her legs and nose dangerously close to the bottom of her underwear. It took a moment for him to come back to reality, realizing that he was in a position he’d only dreamed about. “Oh,” he blinked again. “I’m sorry!” he shot up and rested back on his knees. With her hand still in his hair, he was slightly bowed forward, eyes deliciously plastered to her legs.

“Don’t apologize,” she whispered, “you’re fine.”

He whined a little, “I made you uncomforta—”

“When did I say that?”

He peered up at her through his eyelashes, watching her coy smirk expand into a sly smile. He stumbled over his words and quickly decided it would be better to shut up. What’s happening? Wasn’t she supposed to be yelling at him? Ashamed he had given into his desires a little too much? This was supposed to be about her, and how wonderful she was. Not him and his inability to hide his lustful curiosity.

“In fact,” she tugged on his hair a little more, forcing him to crawl halfway on top of her to stop the dull pain in his scalp—he really didn’t mind it though, which made him rethink some things about himself. “I really enjoyed it.”

His markings glowed so bright, she had to look away for a moment. She snickered and brought one hand to his chin, the other leaving his hair and slowly trailing down his chest. “If I’m being honest,” she sighed, “I didn’t really like my stretch marks. They’re ugly and gross, but,” she stopped trailing her hand down when she got to the hem of his pants, “you made me feel better about them.” She smiled.

“I’m glad!” he nervously grinned and tried to adjust himself so the position would be less. . . intimate, but she didn’t let him. Part of him was begging her to do something, and the other part of him was screaming with fear and embarrassment so loudly he almost didn’t hear what she said next.

“So,” she drawled out, “if it’s okay with you, can I help you feel good?”

“What?” he squeaked. “Like–what? What does that mean?” Oh my god, he cried to himself, I’m an idiot! He beat down a whine that threatened to erupt from his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted the ground to swallow him up and never let him go.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed herself into him, hips bucking up and creating a delicious friction. He sucked in a strangled gasp and let his face fall into the crook of her neck, “sen–sensitive!” he cried. He gripped her waist, fumbling for a moment before once again realizing he had taken his prosthetic off. Vaguely he wondered if he should put it back on, but she bucked again and all thoughts fell out of his mouth as he cried.

“What do you say?” she purred, “up for a little fun?”

“You’re a,” he panted and ground his hips into her, muffling his moans in her flesh, “a tease.” He shouldn’t be doing this, should he? Should he have asked before he pressed himself into her, or was that normal? He didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing here.

“C’mon pretty boy, I have to hear a yes,”

“Y–yes!” He whined and ignored the blue light that bathed them both—this is so embarrassing.

“Good boy.”

He squeaked and buried his face deeper into her neck, “oh my god.” This was going to be the death of him—not that he really minded.

#vash #vash stampede #vash trigun #trigun vash #vash the stampede #vash 98 #tristamp #vash x reader #vash x you #vash x y/n #trigun x reader #trigun x you #trigun x y/n #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede x you #vash the stampede x y/n #trigun #Strawberry writes

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revenantghost · 2 years ago

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OH MY GOD THIS IS SO CUTE??? CRYING IN THE CLUB, I ABSOLUTELY DIDN’T EXPECT ANYTHING AND THIS IS SO SWEET AND CUTE AHHHHHHH THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I didn't have time to do much more as I only learned right now that it was your birthday but anyway. I wish you the happiest of birthdays @revenantghost 🥳🥳🥳🥳

#AHHHHHHHHHH #Birthdays are Rough for me and this was SO SWEET to log onto just CRYING over here THANK YOU!!!!!!!!#Saving this and clutching this to myself like the adorable Vash plushie that he is #Trigun

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vashyr · 1 month ago

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୨۪୧ ִ 　トライガン　⁝ 　𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 　𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦　 ֺ ⑅ 　( ♡ )

— 𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘝𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘧𝘢𝘳, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘬𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 ִ ۫ ˒

˚꒰♡꒱‧ First post, my requests are open to any requests sfw or nsfw <3

It was late, way too late for anyone to be awake, but your phone buzzed with a soft vibration that startled you out of your sleepy haze. You squinted at the screen, barely making out the time—3:23 AM—and the name that flashed across it.

₊ 　˚ Vash.　 𓂃　 ♥︎

Your heart did a little flip at the sight of his name. Even though you were miles apart, just seeing that he was calling gave you a little rush of warmth. It wasn’t unusual for him to call at odd hours—his job kept him on the move constantly, and he couldn’t always call when it was convenient for you. But you never minded. A call from Vash was always worth waking up for.

You swiped to answer and pressed the phone to your ear, your voice groggy but soft. “Vash…? Is everything okay?”

There was a beat of silence before you heard his voice, a little breathy and… pouty?

“Baaaabe,” he whined, drawing out the word like a child who didn’t get their way. “I miss you sooooo much.”

You could practically see him, that familiar mop of blonde hair and those big, puppy-dog eyes. The image alone made you smile, and you settled back against your pillows, snuggling into the warmth of your bed.

“I miss you too, Vash. Where are you right now?” Your voice was a little hushed, the kind of tone people use when talking in the middle of the night.

He let out a dramatic sigh on the other end. “Somewhere boring. There’s nothing to do here, and I can't stop thinking about you. I just—ugh, I need to hear your voice.”

His whine was adorable, laced with that clingy tone he only ever used when it was just the two of you. You knew Vash could be a bit of a goofball, always flirting and joking around, but when it came to moments like this—when it was just the two of you in your own little world—he was the softest, neediest man you’d ever known.

“Why don’t you tell me about your day?” you offered, your voice soothing. “That’ll help.”

Vash hummed in agreement, though you could hear the way he shuffled around on the other end, probably flopping down somewhere, just like he always did when he called. “Well, I had a run-in with some bandits, but it wasn’t anything serious. Took care of it without any fighting.” His tone was nonchalant, as if that was just a regular day in his life, which for him, it probably was.

“But then,” he continued, his voice dropping to a lower, more teasing pitch, “I kept thinking about how nice it’d be if you were here with me. We could’ve gone on a little adventure together. You’d have loved the sunset I saw earlier. It made me think of you.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. Vash always knew just what to say to make you feel special, even when you were far apart.

“I wish I could’ve been there,” you murmured, curling up tighter beneath your blankets. “It sounds beautiful.”

“It was, but not as beautiful as you,” he said quickly, the flirt in him resurfacing. You could hear the grin in his voice, and even though you rolled your eyes, you couldn’t help but smile too.

There was another pause before Vash spoke again, this time softer, more vulnerable. “I really do miss you, though. It’s hard being away from you for so long. I just… I wish I could hold you right now.”

Your heart ached at his confession, the distance between you feeling like a weight that pressed against your chest. Vash wasn’t always vocal about his deeper emotions, but when he did open up like this, it hit you hard. He was all bravado and charm most of the time, but underneath it all, he was just a man who craved closeness—who craved you.

“I wish you were here too,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I’d hold you so tight you wouldn’t be able to leave again.”

He let out a soft, contented hum at your words. “That sounds perfect.”

For a while, neither of you said anything, just the sound of each other breathing filling the space between words. It was the kind of comfortable silence that only comes when two people are truly at ease with each other, where just being present was enough.

“I bet you’re all cozy in bed right now, huh?” Vash finally said, his voice laced with a hint of jealousy. “I’m so jealous. I wanna be cozy with you.”

You giggled softly, imagining him pouting like a child who had been left out. “I am cozy, but there’s plenty of room for you here. You should come over.”

“I wish!” he groaned dramatically, but you could hear the affection in his voice. “I’d wrap my arms around you and never let go.”

“That sounds nice,” you murmured, your eyelids growing heavy as the comfort of his voice and the late hour began to lull you back to sleep.

Vash must’ve sensed it because his tone softened even further, like a warm blanket being pulled over you. “Get some sleep, okay? I’ll stay on the phone until you do.”

“But what about you? You need to sleep too.”

“I’ll sleep when I can. Right now, I just wanna listen to you.”

His words made your heart melt, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft, contented sigh. Vash was clingy, yes, but in the sweetest way possible. He didn’t just want your attention—he needed it, needed the comfort that only you could provide. And in moments like this, you were happy to give it to him.

“I love you, Vash,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

“I love you too, more than you know,” he replied softly. There was a brief pause before he added with a playful whine, “But I still miss youuu.”

With a sleepy smile, you let his words wash over you, your heart swelling with warmth. Even though he was miles away, it felt like he was right there beside you, his voice a gentle comfort that lulled you back into peaceful slumber.

And as your eyes fluttered shut, you heard him whisper one last thing, barely audible but full of love. “Sweet dreams, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you too.”

Just as you thought the call might end there, you heard Vash shift again, his voice thick with need. “You don’t understand how much I wish I could just feel you next to me. I… I’m really trying to behave, but I can’t help it.”

You felt your cheeks heat at the way he practically whined your name, the sound making your heart race. “Vash, what are you doing over there?” you asked, your voice teasing, but with an edge of curiosity.

“Nothing bad,” he replied, but the way he said it made you raise an eyebrow, your curiosity piquing. You could hear the soft, quick sound of his breaths, the rustling of clothes, and then a faint, wet noise that made your stomach flutter.

“Are you…?” Your voice trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

“Just keep talking,” he urged, his tone turning a little more desperate. “You don’t know what you do to me. I can’t stop thinking about you, and now… now it’s just so hard to hold back.”

You could hear another soft rustle, followed by a quiet, almost pained groan that sent heat coursing through your body. The faint wet sounds were unmistakable now, and you swallowed hard, feeling yourself grow needy for him too.

“Vash,” you scolded lightly, even as your heart raced. “You’re supposed to be behaving. I thought you said you would!”

“I am!” he insisted, though his voice was strained, like he was on the edge of losing control. “I just… I need you. I need you to talk to me, to tell me how much you love me. It’s driving me insane!”

You bit your lip, a mix of playful indignation and arousal swirling inside you. “You’re impossible. You’re making this so hard for me.”

He let out a needy groan that was unmistakably full of desire. “Please, don’t stop. I love it when you talk to me like that. It’s so… it makes me want you so badly.”

You could almost hear him shifting again, the soft squelch of movement against the fabric of his clothes creating a sound that only intensified the heat pooling low in your belly. “Vash, you need to calm down. I can’t believe you’re like this,” you said, your voice teasing but with a hint of breathlessness.

But instead of calming down, Vash’s voice grew deeper, thick with need as he continued to plead. “I can’t help it. Just hearing you, imagining you here with me… it’s too much. You don’t understand how much I crave you right now. I just want to feel you. I want to hold you close.”

Your heart raced at his words, a warmth flooding through you as the distance between you felt more palpable than ever. “You’re really something else, you know that?”

“Just for you,” he promised, voice husky and thick, sending shivers down your spine. “Just for you.”

You could hear the quickening of his breaths, the way he was losing himself in the sound

of your voice, and it made your own desire flare up, wrapping around you like a heady mist. You could feel the warmth pooling in your core, your body aching for the closeness you could only dream of.

“Vash,” you whispered again, but this time it was more of a breathy plea. “You need to stop.”

“I can’t!” he cried softly, desperation coating his words. “I want you too much. I’m sorry, but I just… need to hear you more. Just keep talking, and I’ll try to behave, I promise.”

“Try harder,” you teased, even though your own voice was strained, fighting against the heat that was building in you. “What if I told you how much I want you? How much I miss being with you?”

His groan was long and deep, the sound making your insides twist with need. “Oh, god. That’s not fair,” he moaned, the sound mixed with the wet, faint noises that echoed on the line, making it impossible for you to ignore the way your body was responding.

“Tell me what you want,” you urged, your voice dropping into a whisper. “Tell me how much you want me.”

Vash’s breath hitched, a choked sound escaping him as he struggled to get the words out. “I want to feel you, to have you wrapped around me. I want to kiss you until we’re both breathless… to hold you and never let you go.”

His voice cracked, the longing in it raw and palpable, and you could feel your heart race, every word igniting that need deep within you. “Vash,” you breathed, your voice thick with desire. “I want that too. So much.”

He let out another desperate groan, the sound sending jolts of heat through your body. “Please, don’t stop. I need you. I’m so close, and I can’t… I can’t hold back anymore.”

And in that moment, you realized just how much power you held over him, how much he needed you, even from so far away. And though the distance hurt, moments like this—where it was just the two of you, even if it was only over the phone—made it all worth it.

"Alright," you whispered, your tone softening as you settled back into the pillows. "I guess I'll stay on the line... just for you."

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