#wolfwood… those are just words.
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Collection of my favourite memes made by the team who worked on trigun ultimate overhaul bc they’re just so fucking good
Thank u overhaul team I owe u my life for the work u have done
#trigun#trimax#trigun ultimate overhaul#hope they don’t mind me reposting they’re just so good I think everyone should see them#wolfwood… those are just words.
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here it is the master post for all my soul eater!au ideas (here are posts 1 and 2 + vashwood as souls), where I'll be periodically rebloging it whenever i think of something new! feel free to dm if you wanna talk about it and give me more ideas :) or point out any dumb contradictions but anyways lets go:
vash is the meister and wolfwood is the death scythe
wolfwood's original partner was livio but due to events livio is now presumed dead/missing, leaving wolfwood without a partner for a long time
livio is however very much alive and eventually he'll return with his new weapon who is razlo (how does it work? basically imagine razlo as ragnarok)
wolfwood scythe form is his giant machine gun (still thinking if he should be like tsubaki is able to change forms so that when he finally accepts vash as his partner he changes into vash's gun instead of always being a machine gun..... and can later transform into that wicked weapon vash's angel arm changes into)
vash himself is death (i suppose.. though nobody knows... yet) and he still brings chaos wherever he goes. he has been without a partner for a very very long time
due to walking around without a scythe, he has a lot of scars thanks to the fights he cannot avoid and his immense desire to save everyone
meryl and milly are naturally around and they are meister and weapon
they are currently looking for a chaotic meister that leaves a trail of destruction behind
when vash and wolfwood first start working together as partners, wolfwood makes his scythe self heavier just to see vash struggle as much as possible whenever they arent in combat because really what the fuck is up with this dude hating to kill?? you ARE literally death incarnate grow up
completelyyy unrelated to that is that people hear and tell many different versions of the same story: of a great battle many many many years ago that brought great destruction. despite names changing many times most seem to agree that one of the beings was called knives millions and that his heart only knew destruction. the ending differs for a lot of people, most agree there were no survivors but some believe there was only one because how else would the story exist ("ain't nobody surviving that, its just a story" an old man shook his head "but if someone did survive, they are either death or the devil itself")
so thus far no one has found out that vash is that "one" survivor nor have they found out that knives didnt actually die but instead he is trapped as vash refused to kill him then
but how long will he stay trapped? how long until he breaks free again?
#this is longer than i expected and it will continue to grow i hope#gotta admit dont quite like how i worded that last part with the story of a great battle but I'll figure it out how to do that better#i promise i will make a story out of this i need it for myself#also im sorryyy about the link above tumblr isnt letting me add multiple links so you just get the one where the art is#but that one has the 2 posts linked so yay i guess#though you probably have seen those if youre here rn#trigun#nicholas wolfwood#vash stampede#knives millions#vashwood#milly thompson#meryl stryfe#trigun livio#trigun razlo#soul eater#trigun maximum spoilers#trigun maximum#does it count as spoilers since i mention vash's arm? well better safe than sorry
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wait. wait. wait. ive been staring at ur latest comic for awhile now and i think i've noticed something about the colors? which are amazing, first of all- just gotta get that out there cuz i adore that soft pink and deep green combo
but i just realized that throughout most of the comic u use both in equal parts it seems. to separate bg + fg and such, to highlight characters/objects, etc.
but then when vash gets back to their room, all the walls are that dark green. and, bit by bit, the pink totally falls off. by the end, it's nothing but constant dark green as vash starts to cry
but then wolfwood slams in and he's backed by that soft pink. and suddenly the comic is nothing BUT pink. soft lines and whites and gentle pink tones EVERYWHERE to just. SO tastefully highlight the little details.
LIKE. WAS THIS INTENTIONAL?! i almost wanna guess that it wasn't since all those green panels w vash crying are all closeups focused on his expression so it makes sense to just put the simple green behind it and all attention on him so the pink just isn't Needed
BUT AT THE SAME TIME THE EFFECT IS SO MASTERFUL THAT I WANNA BELIEVE IT WAS ABSOLUTELY INTENTIONAL
HEHE..... first of all, thank you for looking at my comic so closely, THAT'S LIKE... REALLY SWEET and a huge compliment to hear, thank u thank u
and yes, it was intentional, especially more towards the end!!! in general, the colors are meant to serve as a mood indicator, so a balance of them in a scene would just mean a neutral "okay-ness" and have a functional serve to separate background / foreground / subject matter... deep green signifies introspection or incoming sadness (especially on pg5 when vash cries), and pink signifies wolfwood, which, not an emotion but he is happiness, someone that helps vash lose his doubts in a matter of seconds -- which is why those last few pages are just pink white and lines, and the panels are gone for the majority of it. i wanted to show their unity and togetherness!
while vash still has his issues of just Not saying anything about his loneliness, his feelings are alleviated temporarily with wolfwood's presence and he's just grateful that his paranoia didn't become true, and that wolfwood is genuine, true to his word, when he means he'll be following vash/staying with him. even though it's mission-bound, vash would probably still feel guiltily comforted by that fact.
I'M GLAD IT WAS PARTICULARLY EFFECTIVE IN THIS COMIC because i definitely could've pushed it more... i figured it was a minor thing that not a lot of ppl would care for, but more ppl enjoyed it and noticed the colors than i thought, so i'm glad it worked out!!!
#asks#thank you for sending this!!!#and for being so observant and putting it into words -- its really sweet!!!! hehe#ok this bit here is a bit off topic but. i forgot to mention in my original tags. very minor hc but on#p4 when i drew their beds -- ww bed is the left one vash is the right one and his blankets are all folded#bc i feel like vash would develop habits of being able to leave somewhere quickly + abruptly. so he cleans up after himself#everytime he wakes up and has to leave for the day. i feel like he's ran into enough trouble that he's grown accustom to making#sure he's ready to dip whenever necessary. and id imagine he'd leave payment if he books a room for more than a night so when he has#to leave suddenly - the room owners get their pay still. just preparing stuff in advance to not make trouble for the kind ppl#that houses him. idk its a small thing! i just recall those times in the manga where after accidentally destroying a part of the town#vash makes sure to join the clean up crew and help build things up lmfao he takes responsibility. its cute#ww sees him do this for the first time once and goes “that's stupid. we're not going anywhere and we're staying for the 2 nights”#and then he'd realize soon enough that they do have to prepare to book it at any random point of the day if vash gets caught up in trouble#regardless he doesn't fold it all up like vash does since its not habitual to him and in a way hes testing vash to NOT run off and do smth#thatll get him in trouble during the day. rare hopefulness. when they start sharing beds wolfwood doesn't let him fold up the sheets#very minor thing hc sorry for rambling in This space hub all of a sudden.#in the comic also vash gets pink bg panels every time he calls out to wolfwood. happy happy#it's really not a long enough comic to push those aspects... but im glad it was noticed at all -- but ok ok im done done
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please stop infantilizing the career killer
#this is about zhao jing and scorpion king in word of honor#but tbh#this could be abt a great many characters 😭#woobification is a plague#hmm let’s see#zhou zishu#xue yang#those dudes from call of duty probably#i would even dare to say…#nicholas d. wolfwood#vash the stampede#him too but he’s not REALLY a killer. i’m just tired of fandom treatment of him#hm#grimmjow jaegerjaquez#literally so many that i can’t think of rn lmfao
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affections towards reader
nb!reader x meryl, vash, wolfwood, and knives
NSFW headcannons involved, minors do not interact.
(nsfw is in red, if you’d like to skip it)
this is my first time writing smut lol. if you’ve got any constructive criticism please let me know.
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meryl
meryl loves physical touch. she will constantly hold your hand in public, and if your not walking then she will sit close enough to have your legs touching. if your comfortable enough then she will make the excuse of “needing to save money” in order to share a bed with you. it intentions are never sexual, just in the loving nature that she feels most safe wrapped in your arms.
she loves to offer her thighs for those short naps. she knows she isn’t the most well endowed but you knock out moments within laying down.
meryl also likes to show her love though acts of service. she might take over some of your work to lessen the burden on you. maybe she might clean your clothes after a rough day through a sandstorm, making sure to part out all the sand prior.
she’s the opposite in bed. she’s an absolute pillow princess, her back arched as her thighs pressed against your head as you eat her out for hours. your just trying to show your appreciation for her, you know?
being in bed with her is something sacred to her. its a moment of absolute intimacy and she wants to spend every part of it clawing and grasping your body, each shock of pleasure causes her to pine at you. you never leave the bed without a scatter of marks and hickies.
vash
this man is the biggest trinket collector in the entire world, and you are not safe from him. if he sees something that reminds you of him, its his. you have an endless collection of keychains gathering on your bag. “but it was so cute!! just like you!!!” its so hard to resist when hes giving you puppy dog eyes.
if he notices a hole in your gear or clothes, you’ll come back from a day of odd jobs to find something new on your bed, neatly folded and a small note laid on top of it. “i saw you needed new gear. dont pay me back :) “. if its something you have an emotional attachment too, he will wait for the perfect moment to snatch it from you. you will receive it back with an added patch, the color being practically identical. even if it means late nights and expensive prices, he will do anything to get it back to its original shape.
no one is safe from his nuzzling. if your really nervous or scared, he will rub his head against your head (or any available body part). when he pulls back his hair is messy and tussled in every direction. you think its a plant thing.
in bed vash is a man who dominates the “act of service” category. his whole goal while having sex is making you feel good, your pleasure is his and every moan you makes brings him closer and closer to orgasm. if hes having a rough day all he wants is to eat you out/suck you off for hours on end. if he had to spend the rest of life with his head between your thighs than he would willingly do so.
of course, mans is a switch. some days he craves your control, riding him as you hold his wrists together, preventing him from touching you. in times like this he doesn’t have to worry about the outside world, only how tight you are and your moans. on the flip side, he wants to pound you so hard you forget about whatever troubles may come. he wants to be the only thing you can focus on, you teary eyes unable to pull apart from his face as his hands roam your body, unable to separate himself from you for just a moment.
since hes so clingy, hes an enjoyer of cock warming. he feels amazing connected to you, and he loves to monitor you face to see how much more the both of you can take.
wolfwood
words of affirmation got this man redder than the two suns above gun smoke. and in turn, he loves to support you verbally. “you did great out there”, “we couldn’t have done it without you”, “your my everything”. on top of that, if you feel insecure or anxious about yourself be ready to hear wolfwood list off the 1000 reasons why he loves every part of you. don’t feel like your inconveniencing him, he would willingly tell the entire planet if you let him.
wolfwood loves physical touch, especially your body. his touch is much more intimate, but not necessarily sexual. he will spend car rides with you in his lap or his arm wrapped around your waist, him pulling you into his side. if you let him wander he will start kneading your love handles or the fat of your stomach. you cant go anywhere without this man giving a surprise ass grab. your his personal stress ball.
if you’ve got a muscular or skinny body, hes tracing patterns into your skin or letting his nails glide against you, sometimes causing you to giggle.
he also loves to hear you rant about things than interest you. he would spend hours listening to you rant about some new invention or fixation. it warms his heart to see you so fascinated with something. that glimmer of excitement in your eyes gets his heart pumping.
speaking of physical touch, wolfwood is a man dedicated to the act, especially in bed. he will keep edging himself over and over again because he just doesn’t want it to end. he doesn’t mind you cumming, in fact the more fucked out you look, eyes rolled in pleasure, the more he just wants to make the moment last. he will go a tantalizingly slow pace until your vocal enough to beg him for more.
wolfwood likes a bush. i said what i said.
fave position is you on your side, it gives him enough support to grab at you whenever he wants. when he cums hes got a death grip on you. your the only thinking grounding him from the amount of pleasure you give him.
knives (million knives/nai)
whether or not this emotionally constipated man realizes it, hes got a love language.
he craves quality time, whether that comes from a need to have you near him 24/7 in order to protect you, or that his mind races every time you leave, is none of his concern. he just feels more at peace with you by his side, or at most, with you in his line of sight.
he discovered he really likes bathing with you, its a moment of non-sexual intimacy he looks forward too. he take pride in cleaning every part of you to make sure you are his “perfect partner”, using only the highest quality in JuLai on your skin. the first time it happened he just kind of walked in on you, eyes affixed to your body as you missed a spot. “your not doing it right”, he muttered before stripping and getting in with you. he can always tell where to massage your body if you’ve got a particularly sore muscle.
he always wants you sitting in his meetings with conrad. even when conrad was initially against it. he wants you to see the paradise hes working for, how far hes willing to go for you to live in a perfect world molded just for you and his brotheren.
sex though? oh hes a physical man through and through. as much as he tries to be gentle with you and your human body, he cant help but fold you over in order to get a view of your pleasure ridden face. his thumb resting in your mouth so the only thing your full of is him.
its only natural for you to be under him, as much as he tries to involve you as an equal at work, he knows the perfect place for you is under him and worshipping the love he gives you. and the best time for that is sex.
hes got an obsession with cumming in you. having a part of him inside you makes you so much closer to him, much better than all the other lowly humans. he will keep cumming inside of you until you simply can’t hold anymore. it gets him hard knowing how much your filled of him, both physically and emotionally.
#goreguttdrabbles#trigun nai#million knives trigun#trigun fic#trigun stampede#trigun 98#trigun meryl#trigun x reader#trigun knives#trigun vash#trigun#trigun maximum#trigun manga#vash trigun#vash x y/n#vash x reader#wolfwood x y/n#wolfwood x reader#meryl x reader#knives x reader#million knives#nicholas d. wolfwood#trigun smut#vash x reader smut
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An Audience
A fic in which Wolfwood is still bad at feelings but at least he dicks you down good
↳ Nicholas D. Wolfwood/Reader
content warning. gender-neutral pronouns, afab reader, mild overstimulation, unprotected sex, profanity, shameless smut, fluff, slight angst, don’t worry baby boy vash will get his turn eventually
I recommend reading Stargazing and Cigarettes for a bit of context, however it isn’t completely necessary
minors DNI
6.8k words
Love wasn't in your cards. That was something you had to wake up and realize, seeing the empty space in your sleeping bag that seemed twice as big now, despite being made for only one person. You weren't surprised, you couldn't be, you knew Nicholas D. Wolfwood well enough despite him only being in your life for the span of a couple weeks. He seemed... Non-committal, avoidant, and definitely bad at expressing feelings, let alone understanding them. Still, though, the short lived pang in your chest made you visibly wince. Either that, or the sun peering over the dunes, momentarily blinding you. It seemed you were the first to wake up, thank the gods for that, because you wouldn't know how to explain your brief moment of melancholy to the honest, good-hearted people around you. They would all be waking up shortly, so you were quick to recoup. Rubbing your eyes, slapping your cheeks, and standing from your sleeping bag, you vowed to carry on bravely. It was a moment of passion, you were both looking for a lifeline. At least, that's what you told yourself. You had been silently pining over Wolfwood for nearly the entire time he had been traveling with you, but it was time to shove those feelings deep, deep down, bottle them up and put them on the shelf of regrets and things left unsaid. You would have time to reminisce over it later down the line in your life. Poorly rolling up your crumpled sleeping bag, making sure to smack the sand out of the creases in the process lest you want it in every single crevice next time you find yourself stranded. That action must have roused Vash from his sleep, as you could hear a small groan from beside you. It made you smile, shaking your head. For someone constantly on the run, he seemed so carefree sometimes. That was just so undeniably Vash, though. "Good morning," Vash rasped, both hands coming up to rub his eyes, before placing his glasses on his face. "Mornin'," You returned, clipping the straps over your sleeping bag to hold it in place. "Did you sleep alright? I thought I heard you up pretty late, and now you're the first up." You weren't sure why you didn't expect Vash to be perceptive, considering it's in his passive nature to worry about and care for the people around him. The slightly bitter purse of your lips seemed to give you away, and he obviously took the hint not to pursue how you were feeling any further. "Well, once we get to the next town over, we'll get a motel or something and you can nap. Don't worry about coming to get the car with us." A poignant smile graced your lips, more than likely noticed by Vash. "Thank you." It didn't need to be said, but you wanted to voice your appreciation to him whenever you could. You noticed in your travels together he didn't get that a lot, being that his reputation as The Human Typhoon preceded him. You'd been witness to some of the horrible things that followed Vash and his attempts at helping the general populous, and at first it terrified you, but after watching him dust himself off and get back up every single time, you came to admire him more than anything. Vash stood, kicking some sand over the makeshift fire pit that was most definitely already completely out, not that there was anything anywhere around you to catch fire anyways. "Looks like Meryl and Roberto are up," You stated, thumb pointing to the open passenger door of the vehicle several feet away. Meryl was already hopped out, and Roberto sat up groggily in the back seat. No Wolfwood, you took note after a glance around the area. "Great! We can head off right away... then..." Vash trailed off, glancing around the area. Seems as though he had the same realization you did. "Do you know–" "Let's get going." Both you and Vash whipped around, seeing Wolfwood walking over and down the nearest sand dune, his cross slung over his back in the usual fashion. You tried to make eye contact, but it seems he wasn't interested in catching your gaze, let alone acknowledging you at all. Maybe letting everything roll off your back would be harder than you anticipated. "Ahh, it's already so hot... I thought waking up early we would be able to beat some of the heat," You heard Meryl groan, earning a chuckle from both you and Vash. "How far is the next town?" "Uhm, twelve or so miles?" Vash seemed unsure, running his intricate cybernetic hand through his fluffy hair. So it could take you up to four hours to get there? By the time everyone had come to the consensus that it was time to leave right now immediately, Wolfwood was already a good several yards ahead, obviously having no intention of slowing his pace. The trek there was awful. You were tired, hungry, covered in grime and sweat, and Christ almighty, you could absolutely crush a glass of water. It didn't even have to be cold, you'd take lukewarm. You and Vash walked side by side, occasionally joined by Meryl and Roberto for a chat. At some point during your venture, Wolfwood had ended up behind everyone, probably something to do with his inability to trust anyone and everyone around him, or maybe you were just being bitter. "Wahhh, I'm so tired," You whined, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. You intentionally made it seem exaggerated, hoping covering it up as fun and games make the shake of your legs less obvious as you walked up another mountain of sand beside Vash. "How much longer until we're there?" "We should be– should– oh, we're here!" Vash exclaimed after you had reached the top of the dune. You felt like you could cry tears of joy if your body had any moisture left in it at all, so instead you settled and a pathetic little cheer, your knees wobbling and threatening to give out. Your blond companion seemed to notice this, his metal arm coming down to your waist. He didn't touch you, simply hovering just in case you were to collapse. It wouldn't be the first time he's had to keep you from falling. Wolfwood walked in front of the two of you, bumping Vash in the shoulder with his cross as he passed. He stumbled, arm catching around your waist, nearly causing both of you to tumble down the hill. His sour mood made you scowl after you and Vash had gotten your bearings, in which you got a very frantic apology despite nothing being his fault. Wolfwood was simply acting like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. The group of you got to town, branching off in your respectful directions. You and Meryl made a beeline to the nearest and only motel in this tiny backwash town, deciding it would save on money if everyone paired up into their respective rooms. You and Meryl would share, as would Wolfwood and Roberto, leaving Vash his own room. You mutually decided he deserved privacy, considering he was the one that got everyone here in the first place. (You also decidedly left out the fact you were in this predicament because of him as well, since he was on car-charging duty.) Despite the slightly murky water and shitty soap that made your skin too dry, you accepted the cramped motel shower with open arms– after you had gotten a good late lunch in you– the lukewarm water sending goosebumps up your body. It might as well have been ice cold, considering you were in the direct sun and ridiculous heat for the first four, nearly five hours of your day. Your only respite in the sweltering heat was when Vash used his body to block the rays from hitting you first thing, but once the sun was high in the sky he could do nothing to save you. Fresh out of the shower, you sighed at your bag thrown on the bed. Your day clothes were hanging to dry, so really that only left you to putter about in your sleepwear. Not that this was an issue, considering you planned staying in this dingy motel room for the next twelve plus hours. You slipped your sleep shorts on, tugging the ratty worn t-shirt over your head soon after, flopping onto the bed with a huff. Meryl had gone out, most likely to the nearest market to stock up on supplies while Roberto, Vash, and Wolfwood fetched the car with a fully charged portable battery in hand. It wouldn't hurt to take a nap, you thought, considering how little you managed to sleep last night. You kicked your foot pathetically, cheeks flushing at the recollection of how warm his embrace was. Doesn't matter if he's just gonna be a dick to me after.
With a heavy, exasperated sigh, you pulled the blanket and sheet back from the bed, only flipping the thinner of the two on top of your body. He didn't explicitly tell you that you'd get to talk about it, he just made a noise and you had made an assumption. You really don't know what you were expecting of him, you didn't know why it bothered you so much. It was fine, everything would be fine, you just had to get over yourself and everything could go back to normal. It wasn't like he was treating you any different, he was probably just grumpy because he had to walk twelve miles on what felt like the hottest day of the goddamn year. Everything was going to be fine. You just needed a nap. You awoke with a slight start, eyes adjusting to the dark of the room. Meryl laid beside you, her back rising and falling at a steady pace. It was obvious she'd been asleep for a while with how disheveled the blankets were around her, and the slight tousle of her hair. Fuck, you hadn't meant to sleep this long, you didn't even hear her come into the room. You stretched your legs, swinging them over the side of the bed, and sliding your shoes on. You hoped the motel lobby was still open at the very least, and also hoped they sold snacks and drinks. As quietly as you could, you opened the squeaky motel door, sliding out, and shutting it behind you. Luck really was not on your side today, was all you could think as you came face to face with the closed blinds in the windows of the motel lobby. The open sign was flipped, all the lights were off, and not a soul adorned the streets. Considering how high the moons were in the sky, you could only assume it was pretty late. Well fuck. Heaving another sigh, you dejectedly turned heel, heading back to your shared room. What you didn't expect was bumping into another person on your way there. Wolfwood stood outside his- Vash's room? It was fine, everything was fine You tried to get away without saying anything, but having to walk past him in silence seemed to be mission impossible, especially considering the circumstances. "Why are you standing outside Vash's room?" You asked, hand coming up to the door handle of your shared space. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the numbered key ring and spinning it around his finger. "Traded," He mused, fingers tapping the cigarette he held in his hands, "Why, disappointed?" It was intentional, you knew he was trying to get under your skin, that's what he did, and as much as you wanted to say you wouldn't fall for it, you absolutely did. "No, I was just curious. I already told you, it's not like that." Wolfwood hummed in response, low and void of melody or emotion, almost like he was mocking you. "Right, and I'm Mother Mary." "Listen," You hissed, removing your hand from the door knob and taking a quick two strides over to him, "I'm okay with pretending like nothing happened last night, that's fine, but that doesn't give you an excuse to be shitty to me. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine too, but don't be a dick." This seemed to irk him, the scrunch of his nose surprising you. "Who said I didn't want to talk about it?" God, you wanted to rip your hair out. Or his. It was fifty-fifty. "You're the one that ignored me all day," You whisper yelled, pointedly shoving a finger into his chest, "You're the one that wanted to act like nothing happened, you're the one that was nowhere to be seen first thing in the morning!" "Oh, I didn't realize you wanted an audience for it. If that's the case, why don't we wake everyone up and call them out here?" You raised your hands, dragging the heels of your palms down your face in frustration. "I can't win with you, Wolfwood. You're impossible. I'm going to bed." As you turned on your heel, you felt his hand close around your wrist. It was warm, electrifying. "You said you wanted to talk about it. Let's talk about it." A response you didn't think you'd ever hear from Nicholas D. Wolfwood. You sighed, nodding slowly, but when you turned to him he was releasing his grip on you and headed to the door of his room. "Not out here," He muttered, stamping out his cigarette while opening the door for you. Stepping inside, you saw his cross leaning up against the wall in the corner, but other than that nothing else was out of place. His room looked entirely clean, no belongings strewn about, the covers on bed were still fitted and tucked. Did he ever sleep? You kicked your shoes off and heard the door click closed behind you, making you vaguely aware that you were completely alone with Wolfwood once again. Through the thin walls, you could hear snoring, and you weren't passively aware of everyone's sleeping patterns enough to tell if it was Vash or Roberto, or both. You nervously wiped your palms against your sleep shorts, bravely turning around to look up at Wolfwood. His arms were crossed over his chest, standing tall in front of you. The longer you stood in silence, the more desperate you became for any kind of saviour. "Okay, I guess I'll go first," You whispered, stepping back and taking a seat on the edge of the untouched bed, "I... expected things to be like this. I was happy about what happened last night, but I mean... you don't exactly seem the type to want that kind of thing, y'know?" Silence. "It was nice indulging, lying to myself, telling myself that's really what you wanted as well," You picked at the skin on your fingers, acutely aware of Wolfwood stepping away from the door and closer to you, "That you wanted me. That it wasn't just... I dunno, us being caught up in the moment?" You were embarrassing yourself. What were you saying? He was going to laugh at you and call you an idiot, traveling with everyone just got that much more awkward. A small part of you wondered if you should just pack up your stuff and disappear into the night. The likelihood of you making it even a week with no food, no weapons, no money was absolutely slim, but it was a risk you were willing to take. You would leave a note for Vash, he would understand– "You done?" Blinking dumbly, you finally glanced up. He was much closer than you had anticipated, or even noticed, the proximity making you swallow the lump in your throat. Not trusting your voice, you simply nodded, a shaky exhale pushing past your lips when he began to lean down. "Good." His breath fanned over your face when he grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to tilt your head back and crane your neck up. It seemed so easy for him, the way he pressed his lips against yours, the way his hand trailed feather light touches up your jaw, fingers moving back to tangle in the hairs at the nape of your neck and tug oh so gently. And as you were, right here, right now, you didn't want anything else. It's like he knew exactly what strings to pluck to make your heart sing, knew what to touch and where to have you wanting more and more of him. Or maybe you just felt that way about him all on your own. You parted, but not for long, only pulling back long enough for him to start leaning you back, one of his knees on the bed as he knelt over you. He had a hand on either side of you, bracketing you in, much like he had done last night but this was just so different. There was no confusion, astonishment, or impulse. This was planned, this was calculated and it was desperate. His lips were desperate to feel you, his tongue was desperate to taste you. It was suffocating, having him lean into you, press his chest to yours, coax your mouth open with his tongue. It was dizzying, and instead of allowing yourself to dive headfirst into the glue trap that was Wolfwood's affections, you pulled back. "Wait, Wolfwo–" "Nicholas," He breathed into your neck, licking at your pulse point once before biting down. You whined, feeling his canines press harshly into your skin. "I told you to call me Nicholas." Hands planted on his chest, giving a gentle push, but his lips and teeth and tongue made quick work of your neck. "W–Wait, please–" You insisted, giving a gentle push on his chest, "I don't–" Wolfwood pulled back, only far enough for him to look up at you out of the corner of his eye. His body was rigid again, unsure, muscles tense. He panted, breathing uneven and hurried, but ultimately nodded, huffing out, "I'm sorry, I thought– this seemed like this is where things were going." His body pulled back first, his leg sliding down the edge of the bed when he pushed back to stand. This time you were the one to grab him, your fingers closing in on the lapel of his blazer. You were both ruddy cheeked, eyes half lidded as you stared at each other. You took a second to compose yourself, voice small and breathless. "I want you, but–" He pushed forwards again, knee back on the bed. You choked on your words, keeping your hand on his blazer, "But, I feel like we didn't really talk about things." It was a wonder to see Wolfwood at a loss for words. Still, he pushed forward, much slower this time. He leaned into you, closer, hovering mere inches above your lips. "'m not exactly a man of many words, but," He placed a slow kiss on your lips, hands palming at your waist, "I'd like to show you how I feel." All the air was punched out of your lungs, jaw hanging slack in awe at his forwardness. Part of you wondered how honest he was being with you, but there was a glimmer of something in his eyes that had you falling back into his glue trap. A nod was all it took before Wolfwood was dipping leaning you back down, kissing you so deep it made the room spin. Your eyes slid shut, every nerve ending electrifying when he would touch you, kiss you. His hands felt like molten fire against your skin when he grabbed at your inner thighs, parting them so he could comfortably slide in between. His touch moved down, around, holding under your knee as he wrapped your one leg around his waist. It was slow, but deliberate, the slide of his palm back up your leg, thigh, before settling on the meat of your hip. His other hand was just barely hovering beside your neck, fingers brushing back and forth along your jaw. Something you could say you never expected of Wolfwood was the tenderness of fleeting touches. When he pulled back from your mouth, you gasped, the string of spit connecting you snapping and soaking into the fabric of your night shirt, some of it dribbling down your chin. Despite not even being touched by him yet, you could feel how dizzy and– most likely– thoroughly fucked you looked. "Fuck," Was all he growled, both hands under your ass to hike you further up the bed to make room for him. The rusty springs creaked in retaliation, the flimsy headboard gently tapping against the wall at the motion. Impossibly warm hands scooped your other leg to wrap around his waist. His hips pressed down into you, pinning you to the bed, the seam of his zipper rubbing up into your clothed mound. You squeaked, hands coming up to his hair when he ran his tongue down the shell of your ear. He kissed, licked, bit every piece of skin he could reach, and all you could do was whine and sigh and take his affections. Hot palms ran up your sides, taking your shirt along with them as he hiked it higher and higher, eventually getting to the peak of your chest. He stopped, peering up at you inquisitively, as if you would say anything except please rip my clothes off. Another nod from you, another smirk from him, and your shirt was quickly pulled up and over your head, leaving you half exposed and on display for him. You had half a mind to hide behind your arms– how long had it even been?– but he seemed to predict your train of thought and beat you to the punch. Lips descended, trailing down to the concave of your chest, kissing your solar plexus. His tongue laved across your skin, circling a pert bud, before his mouth latched down and made quick work at diminishing your leftover self conscious thoughts. You were so caught up in trying not to make too much noise, you hadn't noticed the hand that came down between the apex of your thighs to swipe a thumb up the line of your clothed pussy. It made you gasp out a moan, hands flying up to slap over your mouth just a moment too late. He chuckled, seeming amused by your outburst, the vibrations making you shudder. "You can relax," Wolfwood breathed into your skin, fingers replacing his mouth, "I won't bite unless you ask me to." "You ah–already did!" A grin, cocky and wide and toothy and just so undeniably Wolfwood, was all you got in return. You didn't have any time to chastise him, considering he was pushing one leg of your sleep shorts open with his index and middle finger. Descending back down to your mouth, he smirked, running his thumb up and down the line of your aching core, his voice a low growl. "No underwear?" Tiny and meek, the little rebuttal of how these were your pajamas, of course you weren't going to wear unnecessary layers to bed died in your throat when the same fingers that coaxed open your shorts were spinning slow circles against your clit. The sound you made was airy, desperate, surprised at his forwardness and expertise with his hands He kissed you once, twice, licking into your mouth and pressing his tongue up against yours as his fingers worked you up. They dipped down, trailing through your slick, then came back up with more fervor, tight circles winding you just a bit tighter. You moaned into his mouth, absolutely certain with how fucking wet you were already, you were going to ruin these sleep shorts. There was no time to voice how tight the coil was twisting in your stomach, Wolfwood having pulled away much too fast for your liking right as you were starting to hump into his hand. He laughed down at you, sitting up and stripping your shorts from your body. "Don't look so disappointed," He mocked, shrugging the shoulders of his blazer off, "I'll give you better than that." You squealed when he grabbed your ankles and yanked you back to the edge of the bed, pushing up on your forearms to ask him exactly what he planned on doing with half of you hanging off the bed like that, but the sight of him dropping to his knees on the floor answered your question. You think, possibly in that moment, that was the first genuine and honest reaction Wolfwood had to something that wasn't annoyance. He looked like a man depraved, starved, his hungry gaze watching your face as his mouth and tongue worked up your inner thighs. He looked debauched, hair messy, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and while usually his shirt was unbuttoned up top, it trailed much further down, exposing the dark patch of hair disappearing into his tented pants. Good God. "Ain't no God here," Wolfwood verbalized, flattening his tongue and licking up your pussy, "Just me." Heavy against the bed, you fell back, the creaks and groans of the frame and mattress reminding you that you'd have to be much more quiet if you didn't want to alert your friends sleeping just on the other side. Easy enough was a farfetched thought as Wolfwood licked up the expanse of you again, arms looping under and around your legs, fingers digging into your inner thighs. He brought two fingers down, circling your clit as he tongued around your pulsing entrance, having you squeezing around nothing. "W–Wol– ah! " You squeaked when he slapped your clit, "Nick! " The depraved groan he breathed into your pussy made your stomach do flips, bringing one hand down to his hair and the other up to your mouth, biting down on the meat underneath your pinky. He was relentless, completely devoid of rhyme or reason but absolutely he knew what he was doing would drive you up the wall. His fingers and mouth changed places, the slow stretch of two fingers sliding into your dripping pussy making you keen for him. The curl of his fingers, the way he pushed and pulled just right made you see stars but it just wasn't enough. "Nick– f–fuck, please," Your begs and pleas dripped from your mouth like honey, sweet and syrupy and tantalizing. "Please, more, pleasepleaseplease–" It would be a lie to say you didn't know what your begging and pleading did to Wolfwood, it would be a lie to say you didn't see him rocking his hips up into nothing when you peered down at him devouring you whole. It would also be a lie to say that isn't exactly what you wanted, to push him to his breaking point so he would absolutely wreck you, because it was obvious he was going to take his time in teasing and toying with you. His fingers moved faster, managing to stroke a particularly spongy spot inside of you that made your back arch and your hips jump, and the fucked out noise you moaned into your hand was downright sinful. That seemed to be the desired effect, because Wolfwood was abusing that spot like a man on a mission, his tongue working in time with your clit to send you hurdling over the edge at break–neck speed. The hand you were holding to your mouth shot down, both hands gripping his hair as you rocked your hips up into his mouth and hands. It hit you like a truck, temporarily blinding you. Your hands clenched in his hair, looking for any kind of purchase to help ground you from your earth-shattering orgasm, his free hand coming up to press down into your pelvis, preventing you from squirming and bucking up too much. You whined, gasped, moaned, and pleaded too much, please stop stop too much before his mouth was pulling off of you, fingers slowing to a stop inside you. Your entire body went limp, eyes wide as you stared up at the dingy motel ceiling. You didn't know how you were ever supposed to be satisfied with your own fingers again, let alone another person. A distant chuckle snapped you back, your eyes trailing down to see Wolfwood now shirtless, working at the belt and button of his pants. "Y'look fucked," He mused, pushing his pants and underwear down at the same time, "Hope you didn't think I was done with you yet." It was a visceral effort to not stare at his cock as it bounced between his legs when he stood up straight. He was thick, and definitely longer than anything you had taken until now. You didn't have much time to gawk, considering he was hooking his arms under your legs and tossing you to lay on the bed properly without a seconds notice. He crawled up and between your thighs, coaxing your knees to hook around his hips and circle his waist while he sat back on his haunches. His thumb pressed against the base of his cock, hips slowly moving back and forth as he dragged through your slick and his spit. He hissed, his tip catching on your hole just briefly, before he went back to teasing up and down. Your drawn out whine made him grin wolfishly, but he didn't say anything. You knew he wanted you to beg. "Please, Nick," You whined, fingers gripping the crumpled sheets below you, "Please fuck me, I need you." "Fuck, you look good like this," Wolfwood sucked a breath through his teeth, thumb angling himself down to catch on your entrance once again. "So pretty, begging like a whore." The praise and degradation made you wail, as did the slow slide of every ridge and vein of his cock as he slid himself in you to the hilt. You were surrounded by him, drowning in him, every scent and sight and touch was nothing but Wolfwood and you would gladly die like this. He leaned down on his forearms, one hand coming to the center of your lower back and angling your hips up so he could drive even deeper and you swear you saw God. He started slow, only pulling out an inch and pushing back in, his lips on your neck, jaw, temple, as he slowly worked you through any potential discomfort. "F–Fucking– feels like you're in my throat," You sighed, hands coming up to claw at his shoulders. He chuckled, biting down on your pulse points. "So deep, so big. Please move, I need–" As soon as your plea graced your lips, he had pulled his cock out to the tip, then slammed back in with fervor. You cried out, only vaguely aware of the headboard slamming into the wall with equal force. You couldn't see straight, let alone think straight, with the brute force behind his thrusts. He was still taking his time devouring you, savoring you, his pace slow but deep and hard. You could swear you felt his cock tip reach your guts with every thrust, his name a mantra on your lips and your fingers scribing his shoulders and back. "So tight," Wolfwood huffed, hips bucking out of pace for a mere second, "Feels so fucking good." He was losing himself in you, emphasizing his words with harsh thrusts, his eyes rolling back into his head as he sped up. All you could do was hang onto him, desperately raising your hips in time with him in an attempt to get him further, closer deeper. He was intoxicating, the woodsy second-hand smoke emanating from him paired with his thick cock pushing you harder and harder into the bed making you drunk off of him. You couldn't string together a coherent sentence to tell him how fucking good he felt, only punched out moans and shrill cries of s'good, fuck me, harder, faster. He took them just as well, eventually folding you in on yourself. Your knees ended up over his shoulders, his arms outstretched and hands against the headboard as he fucked down into you with vicious ferocity. The constant bang of the bed frame against the wall getting faster, and you couldn't find it in yourself to be shameful if it ended up waking your companions, because you were lurching closer and closer to the edge you could taste it. "So good, you're so good, too good f'r me," Wolfwood panted in your ear, a hand coming down to grab your cheeks and crush his lips against yours in an agonizingly desperate kiss. It was deliciously wet, all tongue, spit dribbling down your chin. Another two, three, four thrusts, and you were whining into him, trying to voice I'm cumming, fuck fuck fuck I'm cumming, only to have it sinfully swallowed up in his gluttony for you and your desire. Your pussy squeezed him like a vice, trembling and quaking and milking him for everything he was worth. He pulled back panting, a sheen of sweat illuminated by the moons peering through the window. You barely got to say please cum inside by the time he was already pulling out, fisting his cock to completion. He groaned, spurts of his seed coating your pussy, stomach, and chest. "Fuck, f–hah, should've said something sooner," Wolfwood huffed, voice low and gravelly, "Would've filled you to the fuckin’ brim." You should've been ashamed that your pussy quivered at the thought. Both of you were panting, eyes half-mast, staring at each other with an equally amused and fucked-out expression. He was the first to crack, a chuckle leaving his lips as he unfolded you from your position underneath him. A swift smack to your ass made you squeak before your legs fell back to the bed, sprawling out like a starfish. He leaned over the bed, picking up an article of clothing and wiping you off with it. You quickly recognized it being the fabric of his button-up, your cheeks flushing at the thought of him walking around with everyone cum-stained tomorrow. Once you were sufficiently cleaned up, though still sticky with sweat, he tossed his shirt back to the floor and flopped down onto the bed beside you. The bed creaked and groaned under his weight, threatening to give out if there was even the slightest bit of extra exertion on it's frail frame. His arm snuck under your head, nudging you to lean into his side and cuddle up against him. Your arm slung over his torso, hand slowly sliding up and curling gently against his chest. His heart hammered in his chest, much faster than it should be by now, and when you looked up you were surprised to meet his eyes. It was quiet, and you simply watched as he processed his inner turmoil, waiting for him to come to a conclusion on what he wanted to say to you. Finally, he quietly muttered, "Will you stay with me tonight?" You beamed, watching his ears glow red at his request, simply settling for a nod. You rest your head against his chest again, slinging a leg over his thigh, eyes sliding shut for what you think was one of the best nights sleep you've had in years. The morning after, you woke to three loud consecutive knocks on the door. You groaned quietly, turning away from the noise. Four knocks now, this time harder, had you groaning just a little bit louder. You heard a sigh from beside you, then a gentle pap pap on your ass, before the weight on the bed shifted. Turning your head, you watched a still very naked Wolfwood march his way over to the door, the scratches running down his back and shoulders still angry, red and irritated. He cracked the door open, keeping the deadbolt fastened. "What?" He drawled, clearly unimpressed he was woken up from his slumber with you, "Someone better be dying." "Oh you're just as rude first thing in the morning, great," You heard Meryl, irritation dripping from her voice. She said your name briefly, trying to get another three words in before Wolfwood started closing the door. "Don't know, probably around somewhere. Be out in a bit." The sound of her cursing him from behind the door made you giggle, hands coming up to your mouth to muffle the sound. When he turned around, Wolfwood looked just as amused, plucking your clothes off the floor and tossing them to you. "That's not gonna buy you a lot of time," He chided, watching you slide your shirt over your head as he pulled his underwear and pants up his legs, "Better get going." "Yeah– I'll probably get an earful either way though," You laughed, walking over to your shoes as you put your shorts on. You were going to say something about have fun with your cum-shirt, but a hand grabbed at your hip and spun you around before you could slip your shoes on properly. You turned around, surprised by the soft kiss placed on your lips. "I don't want this to be a one time thing," Wolfwood looked away, his blazer slung over his shoulder, "If... I don't know if you–" "No, I'd like to do this again... and again and again." His ears and neck were red, making you laugh. You went to pull away, but his hand was steadfast on your hip, grip unwavering as he stared into you. You watched him inquisitively, blinking in confusion, what else needed to be said? "I did– do, I do want you, by the way." The way you looked at him must have been absolutely bewildered, incredulous, before you snorted, stifling a laugh in the back of your hand. "I think you showed me that much, Nick." He cleared his throat, taking a step back and looking away, his face a deep crimson. "R–Right, yeah– I did." You unlocked the deadbolt, then the door, twisting the knob and opening it just a crack. Looking back at him over your shoulder, you grinned, giving a little wave. "I'll see you at breakfast?" "... Yeah, see you at breakfast." And with your final goodbyes, you shuffled off to your room discreetly, getting ready for the day. It was a race against time and you won, managing to get changed in record speed and go downstairs to find Meryl and Roberto sitting across from Vash in the small diner attached to your motel. You smiled, waving, and made up some piss poor excuse about trying to find some cheap clothing stores along the market strip. You sat beside Vash, who was uncharacteristically quiet, his cheeks and ears a dark red, as opposed to their usual pale pink glow. Maybe you interrupted a sore subject. Not even a minute behind you, Wolfwood came strolling through a door, a very obvious damp patch on the front of his shirt where he had selectively scrubbed his cum out. Vash scooted over, then you, allowing room for Wolfwood to squeeze in beside you at the end. Conversation picked up as food and coffee was served, but Vash continued to stay mostly quiet, only ever piping up when addressed or spoken to. At some point you got concerned, placing a gentle hand on his metallic arm. He jumped, looking down at you, then over your shoulder, as you muttered a quiet, "Hey, what's up? You've been really quiet today." Cerulean eyes glanced back down at you as he weakly and nervously chuckled, seeming to not completely want to divulge in what was bothering him so much. You pursed your lips, giving him a knowing look. "Ahaha, w–well, I mean... last night I heard–" Wolfwood's knee jumped, hitting under the table beside you and shaking all the cups, plates, and cutlery strewn across it. Coffee was spilled, forks were lost, and audible disappointment was voiced from more than one party. "What was that, Spikey?" Wolfwood muttered through his teeth. As messes were hurriedly wiped, Wolfwood leaned back in his seat, peering over your head and glaring at the blond sitting beside you. They held eye contact, and all you could do was nervously glance between them. ".... Y'know, I was probably just imagining things!" Vash exclaimed, running a hand through his fluffy hair. "Roberto snores pretty loud!" There was some back and forth between Meryl and Roberto that seemed mostly one sided, leaving you room to heave out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. God, how embarrassing would that have been?
A hand on your thigh grabbed your attention, eyes glancing up at a very nonchalant Wolfwood that was leaning down to whisper in your ear. "Guess you still got an audience."
#nicholas d. wolfwood x reader#nicholas d wolfwood x reader#nicholas d wolfwood x reader smut#nicholas d. wolfwood x reader smut#nicholas d. wolfwood#trigun x reader#trigun stampede x reader#trigun stampede smut
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"No, no shooting." Not here. Not in this alleyway. Not when the bullets could ricochet and hit someone and hurt them, or worse, kill them. He gave him a sour look; an almost formed pout on his lips before it dropped. He mentally psyched himself up for this. Kissing was not something that Vash ever expected. But it was better than anything, even better than shooting. It'll save lives. That's what Vash thought to himself as he ignored the butterflies in his stomach.
His mind questioned the choice of Wolfwood bringing out his sunglasses, but soon that thought evaporated when a pair of hands cradled his face.
It's a surprise, one that soon discarded with the sudden task at hand. But it almost caught Vash off guard. He breathed in deeply. His cheeks burning. The kiss was delicate. A gentle pressing of lips, pushed together. It felt like an awkward kiss, like the first kiss between two people. Which is technically what it was.
Vash tested the waters and pushed forward, intentively kissing back. He's kissed a lot of people. A lot. So many ladies── yeah, that's a lie. But then Wolfwood dipped the other and Vash almost yelped. It was unexpected, but luckily Vash's yelp was muffled by Wolfwood's lips.
His cheeks burned more, and his heart was now throbbing in his ears. But he added to the charade in hopes that the gunmen were fooled by their plan. A stupid plan. One mentioned in romance books. ( A thing mentioned by Rem. ) But he spoke in a different language: french. He mutters out sweet nothings, all in french to provide fire to this already burning illusion crafted by them.
One hand cupped at Wolfwood's cheek while an arm was thrown over the back of his neck, still muttering and praising in french.
The gunmen witnessed this, and eventually muttered something, grumbling underneath their breaths. "Fuckin' couple wasting out times. C'mon! I bet they haven't gone far! This way!" And soon the gunmen footsteps faded away, and Vash was maybe a bit focused on kissing Wolfwood before snapping out of it: "I... I think they're gone now." He mutters, ignoring the heat on his cheeks. He sums it up to the cold, that's why his cheeks were like that. Definitely. "Wow."
@melpcmene 𝐅𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐎𝐮𝐭, 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐎𝐮𝐭 ~ (contiuned)
✞ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ "At least with bullets, I can shoot back," Wolfwood mutters with a sullen sigh. Of all the things to get mixed up in, kissing Vash the Stampede was not on Nic's bucket list. He'd rather stand his ground, but they were cornered, trapped like rats in an alleyway. A fitting comparison with how disheveled they are.
"Let's at least make this count," the priest grumbles, possibly too soft & miffed for Vash to hear. He briefly wipes his coat off before securing his sunglasses. Who the fuck wears sunglasses at night? He does. Without another word, Wolfwood reaches to cradle Vash's face.
Pucker up ~ he thinks but doesn't dare speak as the voices of the gunmen grow louder. They aren't even trying to be sneaky at this point.
"Where they at?"
"I see something this way."
Wolfwood leans in, planting a delicate kiss at first. It was more like touching lips more than anything, but when the gunmen come around the corner, Nicholas swoops his arm behind Vash & dips the Typhoon with a less subtle kiss. & because the moment calls for it... his back foot pops up & points into the air.
#[ THREAD ] ── * VASH ( 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥'𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 )#[ VERSE ] ── * MAIN ( 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦 )#geraniumplant#( DKFDKFDK the whole LIFTING HIS BACK FOOT UP )#( those idiot gunmen easily fooled by just that and vash's little murmurs sweet nothings full of french )#( gotta praise ur wolfwood in french tho ngl )#( too lazy to add actual french words dkfdkfdkfd )
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066. Irritate
♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader
♡ Word count - 1.4k
♡ Warnings - Vash being annoying, he pinches your butt once
♡ Description: Vash is in a mood today, and you have to take the brunt of it.
Now part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3
Vash is in a mood today.
The others don’t see it. How could they? They’ve only known him for four months.
You, however, have almost seventy years of knowing him.
And you’re on your toes.
It starts in the morning when everyone is still waking up. The light of dawn is gray, casting silver sands across the horizon. Meryl and Millie are packing up their sleeping bags, while Wolfwood putters around with Vash, loading up the heavier equipment. Quiet chatter or grumbles is all anyone can muster.
You’re kicking sand over the ashes of last night’s fire when Vash comes up behind and wraps his arms around you, resting on your chest. “Hey,” he says. His voice has the croakiness of sleep still in it. He moves your hair to the side of your neck to press a chaste kiss at its base.
You warm at the affection and turn in his hold. You want a real kiss. Lips puckering, you whisper, “Hey,” and go on your tiptoes.
Instead of meeting lips, however, you feel Vash’s mouth close over your nose and blow. The air forces your voice to honk out in surprise, and Vash pulls away with a laugh. You give him a glare. He dances away before you can hit him.
That was innocent enough; he’s done that before. What really tips you off to his mood is when you’re walking through town later in the day.
It starts with one bullet casing in your pocket. Easy enough, you throw it away and continue with your group. But an hour later, you find another bullet casing in that same pocket. You look at it oddly, but again, chalk it up to nothing. Then another appears. And another. At one point, you pull your pockets out and five different bullet casings clink to the ground. The townspeople give you looks for littering their space with your junk. Embarrassed, you look to Vash for moral support. He looks away. You see the smile he’s trying to hide, though, and suddenly, you know it was him.
Little punk.
It escalates. When you go to hold his hand, he takes it and shakes it – every time – like you’re meeting for the first time. “Hello, miss, nice to meet you,” and “woah now, I don’t know you like that” are his go-to responses. He pinches your butt subtly when you’re in the middle of talking to someone, letting out a high squeak that makes the other person pause and look at you strangely. Vash also feigns a strange look, asking “Are you okay?” You can only give him another glare, the heat of the suns having nothing to the heat of your face. A hundred other little annoyances build up throughout the day, and by the end of it, you’re tired of his antics and avoid him like the plague.
The camp is set up in relative quiet. Millie’s talking about her family, with Meryl and Wolfwood halfway listening while getting dinner and a fire going. You’re trying to help, gathering sleeping bags and lean-to tents from the back of the car, when Vash comes up behind you and says, “Lemme take those.”
Your wary look has him acting innocent. “What?’
You slam the trunk closed and whirl on him, sleeping bags in hand. “Don’t ‘what’ me, what are you planning now?”
“I’m not planning anything – “
“Ha! Liar.” You hold the sleeping bags close like a shield. “Go away. Shoo. Go help Nico with the fire or something.”
He blinks. “But I want to help you!”
“Oh I bet you do.” Nose turning up, you march to the camp and start handing out everything.
Meryl gives you a strange look as she takes her bag. “Everything okay?”
You look at her, then roll your eyes. “Vash is Vash,” you simply say.
She nods like she understands. Millie frowns to the side. “Are you and Mister Vash fighting, Miss ______?”
A strange feeling settles in your stomach. The last thing you want is for them to think you’re actually fighting. “Nah,” you say, giving her a reassuring smile, “he’s just playing. He gets like this every once in a while.”
Light of understanding comes to her eyes. “Oh! My ma and pa do that! They’re always playing, poking fun at each other.” She shifts her legs to cross them. “Ma gets so annoyed at Pa, but they still love each other at the end of the day.”
“Yeah, that’s what we do.” You laugh, some of the tension of the day dropping off. Looking across the fire, you spot Vash setting up his own space for sleep tonight. You smile at him, and, when he notices, he smiles back.
Later, you’ve taken up a spot on top of the car. A small booksits on your chest as you read, curled up in a blanket, and stars glimmer overhead. Everything is cooling down, and with it, your temper.
The car shakes suddenly. You peak over your book and see Vash at the back end, climbing up the ladder. His eyes light on you, and your hackles rise. “What’cha doin’?”
You give him a look. “Reading…”
His smile is innocent to the unwary eye. You watch him carefully as climbs the rest of the way up. He shirks off his shoes and socks and coat and crawls under the blanket with you. He does not stop moving, flipping this way and that, bumping your elbows and squishing you further on top of the truck, bullying you into the side bar. You let out displeased grunts but try not to react.
When he finally settles, he’s got you pinned, rolled onto his side with an elbow supporting his head. “Hey,” he greets, and you see the mischief in his eyes.
The smile you give is tense. You only hum at him and pretend to go back to reading.
Slowly, he nestles down next to you. The blanket gets pulled up to his chin. He doesn’t give you any more room, but at least he isn’t doing anything. Your hackles settle after a few minutes, and you continue to read.
His legs shift. Then shift more. And more. His hand creeps out and takes a handful of your shirt. You shoot him a warning look. He blinks back. Then, in one swift motion, he lifts your shirt halfway and digs his feet into your side.
“Vash!” You shriek, and the others look over with wide eyes, “Your feet are freezing!” You squirm and kick to no avail; his blocks-of-ice-for-feet stay rooted to your ribs.
Vash laughs, smooshing his toes into your skin, ignoring the slaps you give his ankles. “Aw, c’mon, mayfly! It’s not that bad!” He hums and closes his eyes with a pleased look. “Nice and warm…”
You snarl and sit up, shoving his feet off you. “You’re such a boy! You irritate me! All day! Annoying little sh–”
“That’s so mean…why would you say that…” He gives a kicked-puppy look, bottom lip wibbling.
You don’t fall for it. Grabbing his cheeks with one hand, you lean down and press your nose to his. “If you do not keep your filthy little ice nubs to yourself, I’ll throw you in the fire. That’ll warm you up.”
His eyes have a certain sparkle in them. Unrepentant, he gives you a quick peck on your lips. Ooo, he’s in such a mood. Your mouth twitches. He knows just what buttons to push to get a reaction out of you.
In the background, you hear the giggling of Millie, the long-suffering sigh of Meryl. Your cheeks heat, embarrassed. With your own feet, you push Vash away. He lets out an ‘oof’ as you push his stomach in, and he scrabbles against the luggage and roof of the car to stop this assault. “Why,” you say, “are you like this?!”
Still, he smiles. “Because I love you.” And with a great heave, he rolls over your feet and tackles you in a big hug, pinning your arms to the side to keep you from resisting. The air rushes out of your lungs in a wheeze. “My mayfly~” he sings, smooching your cheek.
“Get a room,” Wolfwood calls out.
“Isn’t it nice to see two people so in love, Meryl?” Millie sighs across the fire. “I wish I could find someone to be so comfortable around!”
When you have enough air, you reach around and bite Vash on the cheek. Hard.
Meryl smiles sympathetically amid Vash’s howl of pain. “I dunno if ‘comfortable’ is the right word for this situation, Millie.”
#trigun#vash the stampede#trigun stampede#tristamp#vash#writing#vash x reader#vash the stampede x reader#reader insert#nova writes#trigun x reader#x reader#150 Bullets
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NSFW Trigun Headcanons
A/N: I felt inspired to just kinda punch these out before I start tackling requests. So yeah, please enjoy these LOL my first NSFW writing ever (PLEASE BE NICE)
Warnings: MINORS DNI, nsfw writing, mentions of cunnilingus, penetrative sex, marking, rough sex, etc. etc.
Vash the Stampede
Somebody who absolutely focuses on his partner's pleasure over his own
Like, Vash would absolutely be the type to straight up cum in tandem with his partner when he's been pleasuring them.
He's eating you out/sucking you off? You better believe he's humping into the bed or whatever surface is beneath him as he does so, making his cock leak precum all over, especially hearing your moans and cries of pleasure as he does so
WOULD ABSOLUTELY MOAN INTO YOUR PUSSY/ON YOUR COCK no doubt about it
His noises? THE PRETTIEST
Vash would be the type to cover his mouth with his hand in an attempt to stifle his sounds, because you draw them out of him constantly
"Mmph, (Y/N)... y-yes, like tha-ah!"
You'd absolutely have to pin his hands down to hear those noises more, I lowkey imagine Vash is a little embarrassed at just how noisy he can be
"Now, now, I wanna hear you, Vash."
The blush on his face is unmatched, his whole face red and his blue eyes all shiny as he looks up at you
"O-Okay! Hah-, o-okay, nngh!"
Whines, whimpers, even slight sobs, they're all sounds you'll hear escaping him
As well as calls of your name and passionately proclamations of his love for you
Sex with Vash is always a loving affair, so filled with tenderness and care. It's rare for it to be rushed or purely lustful
Vash would have a hard time leaving marks on you, he doesn't like the notion of hurting you, even at the height of passion
Of course, if you insist, over time, Vash will learn to leave a mark or two on your skin, wherever you'd like him to - your chest, your neck, your thighs
He'd be!!! so!!!! gentle!!!!
Caressing your skin constantly with both his real and his prosthetic, enjoying the feeling of you in his hands
I definitely think he'd cum even if you didn't touch him, especially the first few times you have sex with him
Over time, once you and Vash become more comfortable, there would definitely be moments where you two have rougher rounds
Or, maybe not rougher, per se, but more desperate, less careful
Maybe after Vash has almost lost you or something has almost torn you away from him, he'd be tearing at you desperately, clutching onto your skin, kissing you and marking you freely, tears going down his cheeks as he thrusts into you, savouring the feeling of your skin against his, a reminder that you're still alive and still with him.
"(Y/N), o-oh... (Y/N)... I love you, I- ah! Pl-please don't leave me..."
Nicholas D. Wolfwood
Sex with Wolfwood starts out more as just a purely physical thing - an act you both partake in, but it slowly becomes something more
Wolfwood would lowkey use you as stress relief
He's had a bad day? You'll know by how hard he thrusts into you, his skin slapping against yours, his grunts and moans echoing off the walls of the empty room you two have snuck off to
"Yeah, take it, (Y/N), just like that. Take it!"
This man? Dirty talker extraordinaire, can straight up turn you on with very few words
He takes flustering you and turning you on as a personal challenge, trying to keep you on your toes all the time and see how red he can make you
If he sees you rubbing your thighs together in desperation, in need, or crossing your legs, your face heating up, Wolfwood takes it as a win
He rewards you for taking his teasing all day by giving you one of the best fucks of your life
What's surprising though - he doesn't actually have all that much experience
I actually can't imagine Wolfwood sleeping around a lot before you, despite all his confidence and his smugness in bed
So, when he actually starts sleeping with you, at first, Wolfwood knows the mechanics of the act of sex, but he doesn't understand the small things
With time, Wolfwood becomes softer with you, learning how you like to be touched, what you like to hear, all your preferences
"Does that make you feel good? Yeah? Lemme hear you, sweetheart. Yes, just like that... good."
Marks you up SHAMELESSLY - will leave hickies wherever he feels like it and he doesn't give a damn who sees because you're his.
Will smirk when he sees other people eyeing the marks on your skin
P O S S E S S I V E - he gets jealous easily, even if he doesn't admit to it, and when he's jealous? Goddamn, RIP you, you're not walking for the next few days
Will also not hesitate to fuck you wherever he feels like it - in the bathroom of a saloon? Check. In an alleyway, not too far away from the main street where people are walking? Check.
The thrill of potentially getting caught makes it all that much more exciting for Wolfwood
Not a huge fan of cuddling after sex when you first start seeing him, but after a while, he softens and doesn't want to let you go
Basically, at first, sex isn't an emotional thing with him, but it becomes one over time - it changes as your relationship with Wolfwood changes and becomes deeper, more intimate, more romantic.
And you know what? Wolfwood wouldn't change it for a thing (though he'd rather die than admit it to you or anybody else)
#anya's athenaeum#trigun stampede#trigun#trigun stampede x reader#trigun x reader#vash the stampede#vash the stampede x reader#vash x reader#trigun smut#vash the stampede smut#wolfwood smut#vash smut#nicholas d wolfwood smut#trigun stampede smut#trimax smut
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Wolfwood doubts that Vash bothers celebrating Christmas, and he can't blame him. He doesn't really either, he just does the gift-giving part. Usually the people celebrating the holiday worship the two Angels, and while Wolfwood will gladly get on his knees for Vash, he'd rather not think of him as some holy deity, thanks. Angelic, yes. An actual angel? Well, he'd expressed discomfort with the idea in the past, so an angel Vash is not. Finding a gift for someone who doesn't ask for anything other than a box of donuts from time to time is harder than it seems. How's he supposed to pick out a gift that fits perfectly between the 'casual' and 'you may as well propose to the guy' categories? He hasn't even had the courage to tell Vash how he feels about him yet either, so maybe this would be a good opportunity to. Maybe. Hopefully. It'd also be a good time to give Vash a different kind of present, but that's neither here nor there. Trinkets of any decent quality are rare finds on Noman's. Rarer still are the ones without any kind of religious inspiration. Eventually Wolfwood finds an eclectic collector's shop with myriad baubles. Immediately, what catches his eye is a whiskey flask with the words "Holy Water" printed on it, so he of course needs to pick that up as a little gift to himself. It'll probably ignite one of Vash's contagious laughs—a brilliant light in an endless dark void. What in the world is worthy of being given to Vash the Stampede? He grumbles over this for some time before the owner of the shop takes pity on him and approaches, concerned. Immediately, she picks him out as a 'boyfriend getting his partner something for their first Christmas' type. As embarrassing as it is, Wolfwood relents, which leads to the present moment, when Vash convenes with him at their hotel room: "I know you… probably don't care about Christmas—I don't really either—but I wanted to get you something," he begins, nervous as all getup. Wolfwood pulls a gift bag from behind his back, then offers it to the blond. "I like to do stuff for the kids, you know? But this time I had to give a gift to you as well. You're pretty hard to shop for, has anyone ever told you that? Jeez…" Inside the sparkly red bag is an instant-print camera and a brand-new journal—oversized, presumably, to fit photos into. "I know you got a photographic memory, but… thought it might be nice to, uh, keep some, I guess. You know, in case you go forgetting stuff again. And also for the sake of those of us who don't have the ability to remember what they had for dinner 75 years ago. Might be nice, is all." He turns away to avoid watching Vash's gaze, but remembers that he's absolutely guilty of wanting to see the way those blue, glassy eyes glimmer with excitement, so he braves the fear and meets them head-on, determined. "I… have another gift for you but I still… need to wrap it. Go get us some hooch or something and come back in an hour." @forgivenpunishment
Well now! Didn't that put his little gift idea to shame?
In a funny way, of course-- Vash didn't actually think of it like that. It was just kind of a funny coincidence that Wolfwood had also gone out to find him something for the whole holiday thing, and apparently had a difficult time of it. Which was fair; he'd been told quite a few times that he was hard to get gifts for in the past. Partly because he didn't really ask for or openly want anything, and party because he was happy with anything people were willing to give him, which apparently just made that even more difficult? But even just thinking about him was more than enough--
This, though, this gift was... not only very sweet, but extremely thoughtful. Both of which had seemingly caught the Plant a bit off-guard as he looked into the bag.
"This is..." even just those two words, ushered out with the tail end of an exhale and barely audible, sounded completely awed by what Wolfwood had found. Vash lifted his gaze from the contents of the bag; summer sky blues positively sparkling with adoration as they caught the light at that angle.
Then Wolfwood mentioned having another gift, and that sent dark brows shooting straight up.
"Something else...? Y-you didn't have to-- I mean, this is more than-- I--" the poor thing blustered, flushed and a bit all over the place (and a little confused: he needed another hour to wrap something else when this had been put in a bag?) now that the situation called for his brain to be put to use. Eventually he caught himself, and just... nodded. Smiled and nodded. Beamed and nodded, really-- "y-yeah, okay. An hour. You got it~."
He did still have to set the gift down for safekeeping (no way was he risking bringing this outside yet!) and grab the rest of his cash before he set off as requested... buuut not before stealing a quick kiss from the undertaker; catching his upper lip in something sweet and warm and, again, quick--
"Thank you. Seriously, this is... really amazing, Wolfwood." he said. Decent as he usually was at withholding his lovesick glances until Wolfwood's back was sufficiently turned, the blond just couldn't help himself this time. His moony gaze drifted slowly from his boyfriend's light blue eyes down to his mouth, then back up again before he finally pulled away to get himself sorted and headed out the door.
The Plant was reluctant to part, but Wolfwood had specifically asked, after all.
"Be back later, yeah?"
#curtains up ✧〗( ic )#unmade ✧〗( main verse )#he might get burned but he's in the game ✧〗mothwood ( forgivenpunishment )#( HEHEHEHE )#( mans is not getting away without *quick smooch* for being so sweet )#( read more is solely for space! nothing spicy is below )
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Wolfwood… those are just words.
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content: 825 words. fluff, lil suggestive (mostly in another language), spanish speaking wolfwood, cowboy/vaquero wolfwood
Cowboy!Wolfwood who needs a farmhand for his ranch. He sees the desperation in your eyes as you peruse the shops in town, and offers you the position.
Cowboy!Wolfwood who is smooth in every way possible, all lingering gazes, hot, fleeting touches as he instructs and shows you how to fix the gate fencing in his cattle. The first time he brought you to his ranch miles away from town, he hopped off his horse and immediately helped you down as well, but instead of letting go of your hands, he gripped them tighter, turning them over this way and that, inspecting something you perhaps hadn’t seen. Your heart rate increases, a blush spreading along your body as he rubs his callused hands and fingers against the soft flesh of your own. “Que delicadas…” he muses, and drops your hands, sadly, the warmth of him whisked away with the biting wind.
Cowboy!Wolfwood dresses always in his signature suede sombrero, with a black and silver embroidered poncho constantly hiding the matching black underneath, the only difference being the brown leather chaps just running short from the bottom of his dirtied and muddy boots that stomp down the hallway early in the morning, rousing you from your sleep in your assigned bedroom. It’s an outfit that wouldn’t be flattering if it were on anyone else but Wolfwood.
Cowboy!Wolfwood and you slowly become used to each other’s company, working in fluidity to keep the ranch running like a well-oiled machine. You discover he has a joking side to him once the ice thaws between the two of you, cracking constant jokes at you with a toothpick lodged between his teeth–a habit he now has as he attempts to kick cigarettes since you mentioned you hate the smell.
As easygoing as he is, he takes his ranch responsibilities seriously. You watch as he rides his stallion, hands off from the reins as he twirls and lassos a stray calf, muscled thighs hugging his steed, hips following the rhythm of her trotting. Your eyes never leave his form, your body hot from watching his. A loud whistle cuts through your ogling.
“Mind opening the gate?” he shouts, chuckling at your stuttering. You quickly open it for him, watching as he guides the calf inside to join her herd. He stops in front of you, poking fun at your flustered state.
“I just think you ride Angelina so gracefully! I wish I could ride a horse as good as you.”
He laughs lowly and moves to leave through the gates, but not before you hear him mumble “tengo algo más que puedes montar…”
Cowboy!Wolfwood isn’t just a cowboy living on the outskirts of a town that welcomes him, but he also holds the duty of a priest, going into town for Sunday morning mass, shaking hands with everyone, exchanging easygoing smiles and inquiries into each and every person’s daily life. From your spot across the street, you would think he was a different man from the one who curses when he gets a splinter, but a glance down erases all doubt as you see the same dirty boots that traverse the ranch home’s hallways peeking out from his priestly garments.
“Not very Catholic of you to wear your boots with those robes you know. Why not wear the dress shoes you have shoved in the back of the hallway closet?”
He leans down from behind to whisper in your ear, rosary gracing your shoulder.
“It’s simply not how I work, mi cielo,” his answer comes quickly, quick enough that he’s conversing with a blonde churchgoer by the time you whip your head around.
Cowboy!Wolfwood’s lingering gazes no longer linger, the grazing touches turning into caresses even in the midst of your duties. Your bantering and joking only intensify as does your chemistry, but Wolfwood begins to throw in more flattering remarks about your work, and you. Mi alma. Corazón. Tesoro. His nicknames for you begin to flow and ebb seamlessly into your conversations, so smoothly said that you nearly miss them each time. But he never turns his loving words into actions. You begin to get impatient.
Cowboy!Wolfwood’s eyes widen, his toothpick falling from his lips.
“Come again?” he asks you.
“Si no me besas en el próximo momento, ya me voy de aquí. Wolfwood, please.”
He crosses the distance between you in half the time it would usually take him.
“How long have you known what I have been saying?” he begs you, the embarrassment evident on his tanned cheeks, the callused hands you have been dreaming of holding you like that first day coming up to caress your jaw.
“Desde el día que te conocí,” you say. Since I met you… I have loved you since the day I met you.
He brings his face down to you, soft and sun-chapped lips meeting yours, his sombrero tipping to fall to the dirt behind him.
a/n: pspsps @ayyydra and @aboveweirdest for all our screaming about cowboy wolfwood, i deliver some HCs xoxo
i tried to keep it gender neutral as possible but damn spanish is a very gender heavy language (that being said, there is many nicknames i wanted wolfwood to call you e.g. precioso/a (precious), hermoso/a (beautiful), querido/a (beloved) but the ones i wrote out are for everyone.
some translations:
“Que delicadas…” = "How delicate..."
"Tengo algo más que puedes montar…"= "I have something else you can ride..."
"Mi cielo. Mi alma. Corazón. Tesoro." = My heaven/sky/darling (idk it can mean many things). My soul. My heart. My treasure.
“Si no me besas en el próximo momento, ya me voy de aquí." = "If you don't kiss me in the next moment, I'm leaving this place."
"Desde el día que te conocí." = "Since the day I met you."
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#VAMOS MIS AMORES VAMOS!!#i just needed these thoughts out somewhere#vaquero!wolfwood i will always cherish you#this is reallyyy self indulgent but whatever#let wolfwood speak spanish dammit he would make anyone swoon#this is out to all my cowboy!wolfwood lovers#cowboy!ww#cowboy!wolfwood#trigun#trigun stampede#trigun x reader#trigun stampede x reader#tristamp#tristamp x reader#wolfwood x reader#nicholas d wolfwood#nicholas d wolfwood x reader#trigun x you#wolfwood x you#nicholas d wolfwood x you#bendycxmet writes
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thanks to Timehop, i stumbled across your post i reblogged where you say that Vash only calling Wolfwood “Wolfwood” is the equivalent of his pet name for him. i completely agree, but i would love to hear your thoughts on this!
So! I think that the fact Wolfwood introduced himself how he did, seeking to distance himself by not giving Vash his first name out the gate, is always an attempt, no matter what canon, to prevent himself from being endeared to Vash. Vash is a stranger that way. Vash is at arm's length. He doesn't have to feel bad.
But he does. Because Vash just embraces it. It's like Wolfwood gave him his preferred name (boom, trans feelings) and he runs with it. Says it like it's the nicest word he's ever had in his mouth. Wolfwood's never been addressed with more gentleness, more affection.
Nicholas is what the Eye called him, what Chapel and/or Conrad called him. It's what he's called when he's in trouble. Nico is what he was called as a kid and, despite being forcibly aged, he is a grown man now. It doesn't fit right. To be close to Vash, in the end, both of those people die. And he's left with just... Just Wolfwood.
Vash gets nicknames. Sometimes they're sweet, mostly they're silly. Wolfwood tries not to use his name because it feels too familiar but, eventually, it just becomes a habit. That's His Needle Noggin.
But for Vash? That's Wolfwood. There's no other way to call him. It's a name he already had, a name he gave Vash to use, but it's also a name Vash gave back much more gently than he expected.
In summary?
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Love at first bite?
Thinking of a Trigun Vampire AU. (Idea no idea if I will continue or will get a chance to write it down)
Rem takes in two little Vampires Only one is more blood thirsty than the other. Nai blames the humans for Rem's death when it was really him. There was a Raid on the Saverem Estate by Vampire Slayers that night, it was the perfect cover up. Though Rem was not a Vampire, she was human.
"If God didn't want Vampires to exist, why are they here? Do you have any right to take away what God Intended?" those words reverberated in Vash's mind always repeating in Rem's voice.
Nai tries to encourage Vash to feed off of humans but he just Can't Not unless they invite him to feed. Otherwise he's feeding off of animals, and even then he hates it. But he's never killed an animal while feeding. He doesn't even take what he needs, just enough to get by. Because Vash doesn't feed enough, or from a Human he doesn't heal as well as he should which shows in the amount of scars he has.
Vampires do age, just slower (Sticking with how they grew as independent plants. Vash can't be in the Sun like Nai can, Nai has drank more blood then him, the more you drink the more power you get, the more immunity. And despite common belief Garlic is their favorite flavor. Which is why Vampires spread propaganda about how Garlic keeps them away, if a human eats enough they are tasty drinks to them.
The more terror Nai Reigned, the more trouble it got Vash into. Because they were twins. They looked alike, so he took the blame for trying to go out of his way to protect Humans from them
And here is you finding an Injured Vash in the middle of the woods because you were looking for a flower that bloomed only at night. You were aware of the dangers, the creatures that roamed. that when you rushed over to Vash at first you didn't know even with how pale he was, but he couldn't hide his fangs with his shaky smile. trying to wave it off as everything was okay when it wasn't. You helped him get to your cottage to help care for him. Though there is only one fool proof way to, and you tell him to drink from you. Telling him it's okay if he drinks too much, you have a potion that can heal you and replenish your blood.
Not that you can give your potions to Vash, you have never tested them on Vampires. And you weren't going to test it on a Vampire that was on deaths door either.
And you far from expected to fall in love at first bite.
Bonus Points for the usual Father Wolfwood showing up (EXTRA bonus if he's a Vampire or Werewolf that Reader helped out as well)
#tw religion#Vampire au#x reader#Vash x reader#vash the stampede x reader#trigun x reader#vash x you#vash the stampede x you#Vash the stampede x reader#SoR story ideas
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nuts reading trigun in japanese 2 - slight tonal change
i dont have access to darkhorse's version so these are from trigun overhaul (ilu), so i might be flying a bit blind here on this bit. anyway.
im. confoos at the change here:
JP bubbles are all sound effects. the white is "kuikui" = flicking his hand?, and the black is "pachin" = roughly snap/pop/slap
so im not too entirely sure whats going on here for the change, if its to match up with contemporary works in that time or to fit a different media culture vibe. im assuming this was in DH's version. anyway.
vash here gets very quiet when a plan seems to start churning in his head and he just. gets on it and puts it in action. he doesnt engage shit talk or provocation, he just... does things.
bc right after this he sets the waitress down
and gets to work helping the other victims caught in the mess. without a single word.
ive noticed this especially in the later parts of the manga and this is not an isolated incident.
when a city ends up getting destroyed as a result of vash & wolfwood fighting midvalley the hornfreak & hoppered the gauntlet, vash seems to rope wolfwood into repair and construction. and there he would say "less talking more working" towards wolfwood.
when he creates those mini dark hole bullets for the final fight against his brother, vash doesnt consult or ask for advice, the guy just does things.
its likely that hes lived for such a long time and been so alone in his lifestyle that relying on others in a communicative way feels unnatural and weird. but thats my read on it. its also kinda... knives like in a way. "dont need approval, dont need advice, dont care about judgement, dont care if i do it alone, this feels right, so ill just do it"
ofc he seems to grow from this a little if his relationship towards wolfwood is any indication, but oooonly a little.
i think stampede vash inherited a lot of this mindset, but didnt get the little shit behavior as much
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I've always been meaning to ask- It's generally known that Wolfwood has a Kansai dialect in the original Japanese, which you've chosen to localize in English, but what I'm curious about is: does Livio have any sort of dialect or accent in Japanese as well? It seems the way he speaks in your translation has a some of the same quirks as Wolfwood, so that really got me curious.
Hey there and thanks for the ask!
Yes, it is 100% clear in the Japanese text that Wolfwood speaks with a Kansai accent. I remember reading in an interview long ago that Nightow imagined this accent to be southern or very cowboy in English, but I do not have it on hand so I can't back it up. Either way, we decided to go with the southern twang for Wolfwood, to ensure that his distinct speech prevails.
Now, Livio is a very interesting one with his language, as it goes through a metamorphosis during the time he has in the manga. It changes a lot, and that goes hand in hand with his character arc.
The first very obvious change that happens to Livio's speech, is his move from very polite, controlled and submissive speech as we meet him. Obviously this reflects his position as a pawn to the Eye of Michael. The key factors in this are the lack of dialect and his usage of "私, Watashi" to refer to himself.
This changes as he becomes Razlo.
Razlo's speech is pretty distinct. No, he does not have a thick Kansai dialect like Wolfwood, but he does pronounce words in certain ways. His speech is the kind that Japanese people would describe as vulgar; low class, gang-like. Razlo is a punk in every sense of the word when it comes to how he talks, both in the pronouns used towards other character, always the most hostile ones you can pick, and always speaks in a disrespectful manner towards anyone who isn't Chapel. This is also where we see "俺, Ore" used towards himself, a pronoun considered rude, or very masculine, if not used casually with your close friends.
When Livio is finally freed from Chapel and the Eye of Michael, he transforms more into his true self. He begins to use "俺, Ore" towards himself, his speech becomes more casual, occasionally playful, but also with some force. This is where it gets interesting.
Livio's speech pattern is reminiscent of the Japanese masculine stereotype of the Kyushu Danji, the macho man, or as would be perceived in the West, a core picture of toxic masculinity. However, since this is Nightow we're talking about, the idea is turned on its head.
Livio, despite being portrayed as a big, muscly, tough guy in almost every way he can be, is instead called Crybaby Livio. His emotions are on the outside, he's gentle, loving, and polite towards women. He even tries to imitate Meryl's very proper speech when he meets her, wanting to be respectful. He is everything that a Kyushu Danji isn't, yet speaks a lot like such a person when it comes to the patterns of his speech.
On the topic of this trope; Wolfwood tries his hardest to be a person like that, a Kyushu Danji, and it causes him mostly suffering. Wolfwood is indeed a victim of toxic masculinity himself, which makes it very interesting how this behavior is portrayed in the series. One suffers because of it, another turns the whole trope on its head and gives us the opposite.
Just more of those tiny Nightow things that I personally very much appreciate, especially for its time.
The short answer:
Livio does not exactly have the same written dialect in the manga like Wolfwood, however his speech is supposed to be crude, and "low class", something the Japanese often connect with the Kansai dialect. So, we decided on the team to give Livio a similar dialect to Wolfwood.
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