Husband!Nanami Who Doesnt Expect Anything For His Birthday Because Youve Both Been Pulling Long Hours

Husband!Nanami who doesn’t expect anything for his birthday because you’ve both been pulling long hours at work and putting money toward savings

Husband!Nanami who comes in exhausted from another overtime shift, the scowl on his face melting away when he sees you waiting up for him with balloons and a tableful of treats from his favorite bakery

Husband!Nanami who hugs you tight and gently tells you that he didn’t need anything, only for you to respond that he deserves everything

Husband!Nanami who laughs when you come out of the kitchen with candles stuck in a loaf of bread and blows them out with a silent wish, feeling like a kid again with the way you’re pampering him

Husband!Nanami who closes his eyes when you tell him to, happily wearing a cheesy paper party hat as you count down from 10

Husband!Nanami who opens his eyes to see you standing in front of him wearing nothing but a big red bow and a shy smile

“Happy birthday, my love!”

Husband!Nanami whose heart melts, (and whose cock does the opposite) immediately standing to pull you close to him, his strong hands exploring every inch of his “present”

“All for me, beautiful? I’m too lucky.”

Husband!Nanami who pulls you into your shared bedroom and leaves all his stress at the door, groaning in relief as you rip his work clothes off until there’s nothing separating the two of you

Husband!Nanami who makes sure to show you just how grateful he is for the little celebration, neither of you noticing when it passes midnight

not a request but Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy(‘s Gun) DOES NOT HAVE ENOUGH LIKES !!!!! i read it daily, such a masterpiece.

omg thank you so much!!! this is my first ever tumblr ask hehe and totally made my day/week/month/year aaaa thank you, super glad you enjoyed!!

Last Rites

a Vashwood fanfic, cross-posted on ao3

"What is wrong with you, blondie?" Wolfwood hit the brick wall with a closed fist, hissing as his knuckles split. "They don't give a damn about you! Whether you live or die!"

Vash stumbled, shifting his weight against the same wall as he cradled his right side. "That doesn't matter." 

"Like hell it doesn't matter!"

Vash flinched at the other man's intensity. The weak smile he offered Wolfwood slid sideways off his face with a new wave of pain. "You know how I feel, Wolfwood."

The undertaker shook his head in frustration. "Wish I did."

Vash's knees buckled, and he slid further down the wall. Wolfwood threw a strong arm around his shoulders before he hit the ground.

"Hey, easy, needle-noggin. Easy." Wolfwood's voice was soft gravel and warm gunmetal. "You don't get to die before I convince you you're a damn fool."

Vash blinked up at him, glassy-eyed. "Die?" He huffed a shaky breath. "You know I can't do that."

"So you say." Wolfwood didn't meet Vash's gaze as he rifled through his bag for first aid supplies. "Where's that damn gauze?"

"The bullet just grazed me. I've had worse, Wolfwood."

"Really? Because you're usually a drama queen and now you're actin' all tough. Got me scared as shit."

"Look at me, Wolfwood."

"No, damn it! We gotta get you patched up."

"Look at me!" Vash's jaw clenched with effort as he reached up to drag Wolfwood down by the collar. Wolfwood dragged his eyes down to Vash, his heart clenching as he took in the gunslinger's bloodless face. Vash didn't let go of his collar but kept pulling the man lower until they were nose to nose.

"You don't have to believe in me. But I'm not gonna let yourself get killed for me either. Nobody else gets hurt." Vash tried another smile, this one lasting a little longer before it trembled away.

"Believin' in you was never the problem, blondie." Wolfwood's mouth went dry this close to Vash. His eyes flicked from the Stampede's bright blue eyes to his tight-pressed lips. "Let me help you."

Vash's hand weakened and Wolfwood took the chance to pull gently out of his grip. "We gotta get this bullet outta you. You can argue with me later." He cautiously reached a hand down to the hem of Vash's tight black top. "Can I?"  Vash's eyes had fluttered shut, but he gave enough of a nod that Wolfwood kept going.

"This isn't how I wanted this to happen," he mumbled, carefully lifting the shirt over Vash's head as he searched for the bullet wound. "Fucking hell," Wolfwood swore. Vash's muscled torso was a patchwork of thick scars and metal grates, as if he had been taken apart and put back together over and over again. The undertaker's breath left him like a punch to the stomach. "What happened to you?"

Vash groaned and tried to curl around himself protectively. “N-nothing. ‘M fine, don’t look…”

“Oh, Vash…” Wolfwood couldn’t stop himself from gently running his calloused fingertips over the longest scar, a raised and jagged line that traced his ribs. Vash flinched and Wolfwood instantly removed his hand, cursing himself for the slip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” 

“No, you didn’t do anything. I just…I don’t like people to see me. Like this.” Vash’s words were sharp-edged with pain. “Especially people I- especially you.”

Wolfwood’s dark eyebrows knit together as he shushed the other man. He couldn’t know how wrong he was. Vash’s body was an alien landscape, and Wolfwood longed to map every inch of unexplored territory. “Don’t be ridiculous, blondie.” His voice dropped, ragged with the raw edges of the truth. “You’re beautiful.”

Vash laughed, but the normally musical sound was out of tune. “Don’t feel bad for me, Wolfwood. Doesn’t suit you.” He shook with the effort of speaking, and it didn’t escape Wolfwood’s notice.

“I feel bad for you ‘cause you’ve got such a spiky head, needle-noggin. But you’re fucking beautiful.”

The blonde opened his mouth to reply but was wracked by a cough. Bright blood dribbled over his lips, and his jaw went slack. 

“Vash?” Wolfwood grabbed his shoulder and shook hard. “Vash!” He swore and frantically tore apart his bag until he came up with bandages. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” He couldn’t tell whether the reassurances were for himself or the other man. Wolfwood tore a strip of bandages with his teeth, his eyes locking on a seep of sticky blood from underneath Vash’s body.

“Alright Typhoon, you’re gonna hold on for me.” Wolfwood turned him over quickly, steeling himself to the task at hand. “This is gonna fuckin’ hurt.” He ripped his flask from his pack and dumped stinging liquor over his hands, sterilizing them as best as he could. “I’ll make this up to you, okay? I swear to God, if He gives a shit.”

The undertaker took a deep breath and plunged his finger into the wound on Vash’s back, carefully feeling for the bullet lodged inside. He whispered apologies as Vash moaned in pain, his body still limp on the ground. The moans trickled to whimpers, and slowed entirely. In the silence, Wolfwood grew more desperate, no strength left to spend on his self-censoring.

“C’mon, baby. C’mon Vash, you stupid pretty thing, hang on f’me.” He gritted his teeth when he brushed against the warm metal, crooking his finger to pull the bullet out without causing too much extra damage. Wolfwood was numb everywhere except the places where his skin touched Vash’s. Those places burned like stars. “You’re doin’ so good, love. Stay here with me. I have so much to tell you if you stay here,” he murmured. 

Wolfwood reached for the liquor and took a hard swig from the bottle, swallowing with a wince. The rest he poured onto Vash’s wound, shakily brushing his hand over the blonde’s hair as the pain made him thrash. “I’m sorry, so sorry…your hair is so soft…softer than I even imagined,” Wolfwood whispered, a little hysterical. “I’ll tell ya so if you wake up after this, okay needle-noggin? Maybe I won’t even call ya that anymore.” 

“Forgive me for this, okay?” Wolfwood pressed clean bandages against the gunshot wound, a half-remembered prayer falling from his lips as Vash let out a strangled cry. “Almost done, almost done, love.” His eyes burned. “Why do you care about these people so goddamn much?” He leaned harder on the wound, willing the blood loss to slow. “What about the people who care about you? ” Vash’s blood soaked through the first fistful of bandages, and Wolfwood added a second. 

“I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep losing you.” Vash’s blood covered his hands, and Wolfwood swallowed down bile. “Fuck you, blondie. Fuck you for leavin' me alone again.” He was leaning his whole weight on the wound now, praying the bandages would be enough to hold Vash’s life in.

“You goddamn bleeding heart, you aren’t on your own anymore! This isn’t fair!” Wolfwood was crying, sick at himself. He didn’t even know he could still produce tears, and now he was on his knees next to the only person that would ever matter enough to wring them out of him. Vash’s eyes stayed shut, his body still and soft except for the tension in his jaw and the throb of his pulse in his neck. 

Wolfwood bent over him like a guardian angel. He turned Vash back over as the bleeding slowed and tenderly wiped the blood from his mouth. He pressed a heavy palm to the metal grate over Vash’s heart. “I love you, Vash. It scares me to death and I still love you. I can’t help it.” A bitter smile flickered over his face. “I’ve tried. Just get through this for me and I’ll tell you myself, okay?"

Suddenly out of things to do, Wolfwood collapsed back against the wall. His hands shook so badly that it took him three tries to get his lighter going, and he dropped the first cigarette he held to the flame. When it finally took, he sucked the smoke into his lungs like a penance and held it till he choked. That way, he had a reason for his voice to crack and his eyes to burn as he whispered, “Vash, please.”

they can’t keep getting away with this!!!

paradise

Nanami being the first to encounter humans that had been transformed by Mahito in s1ep9,

Nanami realizing that they were humans instead of curses and trying to keep Yuji from panicking,

Nanami putting the pieces together and realizing how powerful an enemy Mahito must be,

Nanami lying to Yuji and Ichiji about finding Mahito’s hideout and going in alone so that they wouldn’t be put at risk,

Nanami facing his fate from his literal introduction…

Gege when I catch you Gege!!!!!

jjk men + your thighs

Satoru Gojo wants you to suffocate him with your thighs. He loves nothing more than to be buried in your cunt, eating you out like his life depends on it, while your thighs clench around his head. With his hearing muffled, he can just make out your breathy whimpers and moans as his tongue finds your sweet spot. Genuinely wants you to crush his head like a watermelon. 

Suguru Geto leaves hickeys all over your thighs. He says he can’t help himself, he just needs to sink his teeth into them when you’re splayed out underneath him on his bed. He kisses your thighs lovingly while your legs are thrown over his shoulders, the tenderness clashing with the way he pounds you into the mattress.

Kento Nanami's hands are always on your thighs. Gripping them while driving in the car, discreetly tracing shapes on them under the table at a fancy restaurant, firmly holding them open while he devours you. His favorite thing, though, is when you're at home relaxing and lay your legs over his lap so he can massage them while you read or watch tv together.

Hiromi Higuruma can’t get enough of fucking your thighs. They’re just so tempting and accessible, especially when you visit him at work wearing the short little skirts that drive him crazy. He’ll pull you into his office and bend you over his desk, sliding his aching cock between your thighs with a muffled groan. 

Choso Kamo loves to fall asleep with his head in your lap, using your thighs as a soft, warm pillow. Especially when you stroke his hair while he does it, especially if you’re wearing nothing but panties, or better yet nothing at all. He loves being close to you and feels safest with his arms around you and his face nestled in your thighs.

Toji Fushiguro doesn’t admit it, but he’s obsessed with the way you lock your thighs around him when he’s inside you, holding him in. It throws him off his rhythm but he makes a valiant effort to keep going, hips stuttering against yours as he rocks deeper into you, barely able to pull out for each stroke.