Nicholas D Wolfwood X Reader - Tumblr Posts

“Can you show me how to use the “punisher”?” You look up at Wolfwood through your lashes, a flirtatious smile playing at your lips. He turned his head to the side, watching your finger drift down the base of the covered weapon, drawing circles along the way. 

“Big gun for a little thing like you.” He smirked, amused by your question. “You think you can handle it?” he peered down at you, his eyes drifting along the sight of your body. You picked up on his tone, knowing his question wasn’t really about the gun. 

“I can handle a lot more than you know.” 

He nodded appreciating your bold answer, making a mental note to take you up on that challenge later. Reaching forward he grabbed the cross from your wandering hand and set the hefty weapon in front of you now standing behind you. “How much do you know about weapons?” you shrugged at his query, “Not much, looks cool though.” 

“Well, it is cool.” He grabs your hand, placing it over the handle, showing you its mechanism. His movement is firm over yours, you feel the panels shift open, exposing the barrel of the gun. As he explains each part's function you begin backing yourself into him, your body flushed against his as he moves your hands to different parts of the cross.  A breathy laugh hits the back of your neck as you push up against him, his hips pushed forward letting you know he’s just as interested as you are. You felt a hand rest on your hip, Wolfwood leaning in to whisper, “I can teach you how to use something else too.”

A New Religion

Pairing: Wolfwood x Fem Reader

Rating: 19+ MDNI

Song Inspo: Soweto by Victony, Rema

Summary: You're reunited with Wolfwood after all this time. You thought you were catching up with an old friend, but he tells you that you’re everything but that.

Word Ct: 4.1k

“Come onnn preacher man, you’re gonna let a woman like me walk all by herself?” 

“You came here by yourself, didn’t you?”

You pouted and batted your eyes. “What if something happened to me? Here in Mecca city with a man with a 300 million double dollar bounty on his head, don’t you think it’s a little unsafe for me?”

Wolfwood flicked his eyes down to you hanging off of his arm. Your hands were warm enough for him to feel it through the sleeves of his suit, and you weren't letting up your grip. He tried to look into your eyes to see if it was the beers that you had that were talking instead of your true self, but you only had one glass that you nursed the entire time he had been in the bar. His eyes followed the way you licked your lips and pulled them back to smile again. Wolfwood quickly looked away, but you didn’t want that so you cupped his face with one hand and plucked the bent cigarette out of his mouth to smoke. 

“I feel like priests shouldn’t be able to smoke,” you said after a long drag. “Ain’t it in the Bible somewhere?”

“God cares more about my heart than my lungs.”

“I’m sure your heart is struggling to keep pumping your dying lungs,” you said, and to Wolfwood’s surprise you placed your ear right on his naked chest. You pulled back to move your hair out of the way and your face was pressed up against his chest again. You took another drag of the smoke and tapped his sternum. 

“It’s beating so fast, the poor thing. Don’t worry, I’ll get rid of the pack for you. Your body’s a temple and I’m willing to keep it that way,” you winked up at him. 

“I don’t need you to finish anything for me,” he reached into his breast pocket to pull out his stash of cigarettes. He tapped out a new one, and before he could get his lighter you stopped him.

“Lucky you, I have one last match,” you opened your matchbox and showed him the stick. You stood like a flamingo, holding onto Wolfwood’s shoulder for stability and struck the match against the heel of your boot. A bright flame erupted before sizzling down to where you could bring it up to his face safely. The cigarette hung loosely from Wolfwood’s lips, and he made the mistake of looking directly in your dark eyes instead of the butt of the smoke. The fire danced in your eyes with delight, like a pyromaniac finally finding their passion. When he was able to hold a flame you blew the match out, and before he could stop what you were doing you switched out the cigarettes, putting the bent one back into his parted mouth and taking the fresh one for yourself. 

“Hey!”

“It’s the least you could do for me, Wolfy. I got a long walk back to the motel. This’ll keep me warm,” you tipped your hat to him and turned on your heel. 

“And what about me?”

“What about you, Nathan?” You yelled, but you never stopped to face him. Your hair bounced and your hips swayed as you walked down the street, and he could hear you smirking as you got his name wrong.

“That’s not my name,” he grumbled to himself, and he readjusted the Punisher hanging on his shoulder. He was about to leave the opposite direction himself, and the cigarette smoke filled his lungs enough for him to puff it out, but it tasted different. He held the smoke between his fingers and saw the light pink tinge of your lipgloss on the mouthpiece. It was barely there but suddenly cherries were the only thing he could think about. His head whipped around to find you and he could barely see the top of your cowboy hat poking through the crowd of people who were also leaving for the night. Then he saw your hat jerk violently to the side and into an alleyway. 

Wolfwood parted through the ocean of bounty hunters, his blood rushing in his ears. The seconds stretched for miles and he pushed aggressively through the crowd as he got closer to where he saw you disappear, and when he finally rounded the corner he was moments away from unlatching the Punisher. He saw a dying cigarette and your white hat flipped upside down on the floor. Equal parts fear and anger surged through him. Before he could make any hasty moves a motion caught his eyes in the corner of the alley. You stood there hunched over and trying to catch your breath, your hair flopped over and filled with debris. A large man laid flat on his back, groaning and mumbling incoherent thoughts out loud. His fingers twitched to reach his gun on the floor but Wolfwood crushed his fingers with his foot. 

“You okay?”

“Nevel!” You said, genuinely surprised to see him again so soon. “Me? Oh, I’m just peachy. Never been better,” you shook your hair out and put on a sweet smile. 

“Do you need to…” he started, but you shook your head.

“Don’t let my breathing fool you. He’s so drunk he couldn’t tell his dick from his gun. I’m just a little out of shape, but I can still protect myself.”

“Your shape is fine,” he said, dusting off your hat and handing it to her. 

“And what about my shape do you like?” You asked playfully, and snorted when he turned away to hide his flaming face. “Is it because I shared a holy cigarette with you? Is that why you can’t let go of me yet?”

“Let’s get you back to your room.”

“Now you want to walk with me,” you rolled your eyes. 

“I just want to make sure you get to bed and then I’ll leave. I’ll carry you if I have to,” he warned.

“Carry me and that death machine at the same time? I don’t even think you could do that. I’m not that tiny—“

But you were hauled over Wolfwood’s shoulder before you could finish your sentence. You caught your hat before it could fall again and he adjusted both you and the Punisher to sit comfortably to leave the alley. 

“Oh I’m going to tell the church about this, just you wait. A priest , manhandling an innocent bystander ! Is this because I haven’t paid my tithes? That doesn’t make me a sinner!”

“No, but killing people does,” Wolfwood jerked his shoulder up and you grumbled. 

“You’re no better than me.”

“I just do my job.” 

“Tell me, Father, do you ever do anything outside of your job,” you twisted and whispered in his ear. Your lips grazed the shell of his ear and a shiver went down his spine. “Caring for everybody else seems tiring. What do you like to do to unwind?”

“I’ll tell you if you can be quiet until we get to the motel.”

You pinched his butt in frustration, but surprised him once again by keeping your mouth closed. Wolfwood didn’t understand why you wanted to know, and he couldn’t tell if this was all a game to her. The only other time you talked was when he begged you for your room information so he could walk you right to it, but you were convinced he was trying to make you lose. When he reached the destination, he gently placed you back on your feet and fixed your tilting hat. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I kept track of all of your transgressions,” you tapped your temple. “See you in the morning paper, you corrupted church man.” 

Wolfwood chuckled as you turned around and unlocked the door to your room. He scoped behind him to ensure that nobody was watching you get inside. Before you stepped foot inside you asked him the same question. 

“I don’t ‘unwind’. I’m given a job, I do my job, and another one is given to me. There’s no time for anything else.” 

“Sounds… boring. Lonely,” you brushed the lapels of his suit and peered up at him. Wolfwood wished you would stop looking at him like that. It moved something in his chest he couldn’t identify. “You really don’t have time for anything else? Not even for a friend?”

“We’re friends?” He asked incredulously. 

You slapped his chest and frowned. “Of course we are! Why else would you come back running to me? We always find each other no matter how long it’s been.” 

Your eyes softened and you wrapped your arms around his waist. “I guess I shouldn’t be so hard on you. Thank you, Nicholas, for helping me tonight.” You kissed his cheek and let him go. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again but it wouldn’t kill you to write a letter.”

“I can’t be friends with you,” Wolfwood said lowly, and your eyes clouded over.

“What?” 

He hooked his free hand around your waist and drew you in close. your eyes widened and you splayed your hands on his chest to stop from crashing into it. You looked up in confusion but you could see Wolfwood trying to gather his thoughts. 

“What I’m feeling for you isn’t friendly ,” he said carefully. His grip tightened around your body like a vice and your eyebrows sprung up. You ran your fingers over his bare skin, almost able to hear his heart thumping behind his ribs. 

“And what is it… what are you feeling, Wolfwood?”

He could try to explain it to you, tell you how you’re one of the first people he thinks of whenever he brushes death, or how he prays that the time you spend apart would shorten from months to day or hours, but the words couldn’t make it out of his throat because it is impossible to accurately describe just how much space you take up in his mind. You hide in every crevice of his being, taking up residence in his heart, stealing every smoke filled breath and making it your own because in reality it was never his, and each breath he takes carries him closer to the next time he’ll meet you again.

He could try to explain that to you, but it’s much easier to close the gap between them and capture your lips with his. It’s much easier to guide you into the motel and kick the door close behind him. It is so much easier to gently lay your on the bed after shrugging off the Punisher and swallow your moans as you clawed his back to hold him closer. In a frenzied mix of tongue and lips Wolfwood tastes you fully, doing what he has dreamed of doing a thousand times before but could never bring himself to. Despite spending your whole life out on this godforsaken desert planet, every part of you is soft, his fingers sinking into the exposed skin of your stomach. Your fingers scrape his scalp and his eyes roll further back into his head, and the only times he unlatches his lips from yours is to rip off articles of his clothing and you do the same. 

Your teeth bump each other when you meld your mouths together again, and it’s like touching a live wire. 

Every nerve of his sings for you and it’s like you’re jump starting his heart. He gives you a moment to breathe, instead kissing the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the veins in your neck and the hollow in your throat. Wolfwood runs his tongue over your collarbone, licking the sweat that sat on your skin. His previous suspicions were confirmed. He could never be friends with you. Not when he’s on the verge of devouring you. His tongue skated down your body until he reached one of your breasts. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, inviting him in and he listened. He sucked and flicked your hardening bud until you were gasping his name, crooning praises at him and begging him for more. He had to lavish the other nipple with the same amount of affection, and came back up to kiss your lips once again. 

“Do you understand why we can’t be friends,” he mumbled into your mouth. You nodded fiercely, snaking your arm around his neck to deepen this kiss. Wolfwood’s hand trailed in between your legs, gathering your wetness and stroking your clit. You mewled again, spreading your legs wider, grinding into his palm. You tugged his bottom lip between your teeth and urged him. 

“I need more, Nicholas.”

“Can I—“

“Yes, yes, go ahead,” you rushed out, holding onto the last bit of restraint you had before you were dragged down to the depths of depravity with him. Wolfwood leaned away from you, which was the last thing you wanted him to do, but when he did you were finally able to take in his body the same way he was doing to yours. Red welts were already forming around his neck and creeping over his shoulders, marks that you made on him. He pushed strands of his hair up and out of his forehead and gazed down at you in your entirety. You were almost too bright to look at, like he had to avert your eyes lest he hurt himself. He wanted to kiss every inch of your skin, murmur praises into your ear, send you to heaven above over and over again. So much desire coursed through his veins he was unsure as to where he wanted to start. 

You saw his eyes filled with awe and it was like a spotlight on your body. You were still on your back while he rested on his knees between your legs, his pants still on but unzipped and unbuttoned. Although he wasn’t as close to you as you would like, his hands never left your body, and he caressed your calves as he canvassed your body. You could see his erection straining through his slacks and you bit your lip. 

“It’s not fair that I’m the only one naked here, Wolfwood.” 

You weren't even sure how he managed to undress you completely when you were sure that you had on more layers than him. His stares only heightened your sensitivity, but before you could say anything else he grabbed your ankles and dragged you to the edge of the bed, sinking to his knees on the floor in front of you. You propped yourself up on elbows and looked down at him. He knelt down, kissing the inside of your thighs before hooking his hands underneath them and resting them on his shoulder. 

“Forgive me,” he said, alternating which thigh he kissed, creeping closer to your heated sex that fluttered with anticipation. “I want to do this first.”

The sight of Wolfwood’s tongue flattening and licking a stripe from the seam of your sex to your clit was almost too erotic for you to watch. Your breathing trembled as Wolfwood wasted no time to open you up with his mouth and drive you to the edge. He lapped at your folds, moaning into your sex and his nose rubbed on your clit in a way that forced you to lay back down and silently cry into the sheets around you. You reached down and gathered his hair in your hands, pushing him deeper into your heat and he surged forward. He loved the way your nails scratched his head, and with that he showed his silent approval.

Pleasure filled every corner of your body. You arched your back, your hips lifting off the edge of the bed but Wolfwood was quick to follow and tightened his hold on your thighs. You jerked when his lips pulled back and he bared his teeth around your sensitive bud, and you snapped your head down to look at him again. His eyes were closed, but it did nothing to hide the sex drunkenness he was experiencing. 

Wolfwood did the same thing again, mixing pain in with pleasure, and you rolled your hips into it, taking anything he gave you. Choked sobs tumbled out of your mouth, and they fell on deaf ears as Wolfwood was lost in his own pleasure. The mixture of your come and his saliva made it even easier for his face to glide against you, and he was getting addicted to the feeling. The sacrament he had consumed could never satisfy him the way you did. Your thighs started to shake around his head and he finally opened his eyes to look at you. Tears stained your face and with parted lips you whispered his name. You had this disbelieving look on your face, unsure of how he had gone this long without gasping for air. The sheets were clenched in between your fingers and your orgasm was dangerously close from breaking you. Wolfwood stretched his hand over to pinch your nipple, his fingers mimicking the movements of his tongue and you rode his tongue to oblivion.

With his tongue pressed on your clit, Wolfwood allows you to fuck his face, only slowing your down so he can ease his fingers into your dripping entrance to find your spot inside of you. With that you were both panting, and you felt the coil in your stomach tighten unbearably. 

“Nicho las ,” you moan, your breath catching at the end as you finally crests over and you’re falling helplessly back down to earth. Wolfwood doesn’t stop moving his fingers inside of you, making you curl up and you try to push him away. You’re blubbering, and the tremors in your legs are crushing Wolfwood’s head between your thighs but he had no intention to stop. He thought maybe if he kept going it would dawn on you how he would completely devote himself to you. 

“Nicholas, baby, please,” you groaned. “Please that’s enough.” He lifts his head up, a string of your arousal still hanging from his lips, and the bottom half of his face was shiny with your come. He licks his mouth clean and pressed one last kiss to your clit, and you release a weary groan from the sensation. He then kisses up your navel, your ribs, your sternum, your lips meeting each other when he crawls on top of you and you move back as well until you feel your head hit a pillow.

With all the strength you can muster up, you wrap your legs around his waist and flip him on his back. With him below her, you grind into his erection and his hands are firm around your waist. You attack his neck, sucking and biting all the skin you can see, and Wolfwood melts into the bed. His fingers find your sex again, stretching his fingers to prepare you. You whined into his neck and licked at his skin. 

“You make me feel so good,” you said, rolling your hips on him. “Nicholas, I need you right now. ”

Your words only made his cock ache and strain in his pants. He couldn’t believe that you were begging for him, needing him almost as much as he needed you. He wondered if he ever kept you up with thoughts of “what if” like he did you, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that when your hands feverishly shook while pushing down his pants. They would be ruined if you didn’t pull them down off of him completely, but neither of you couldn’t find it in themselves to care. 

You pulled him out of his pants and stroked him gently. He was the perfect size for you, and you wanted to use your mouth on him, but the pained look on Wolfwood’s face showed that it would have to wait at a later time. It didn’t stop you from teasing him.

“Can you have sex? You know, as a man of God?”

Wolfwood’s jaw tightened. He watched your hand wrap around him and pump him leisurely, and it was almost enough to make him come. “I thought it goes against the religion.” you were pushing his limits, you knew it, but the way he swallowed and his eyes fluttered close only spurred you on. You thumb his slit, collecting the pre-come that beaded at tip and he drew a harsh gasp. 

“I’ll throw it all away for you,” he promised. “I’d do whatever you want.”

“That’s a really big promise, Nicholas,” you whispered. you lined him up to your entrance, rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your sex and he was begging for release. “What if I abused that?”

Wolfwood couldn’t take it anymore and thrusted his hips up to seat himself inside of you. You silently cried out, your hand flying to his throat to steady himself but he welcomed it. The way you squeezed around his cock left him with no cognizant thought other than to get you to come again. His hips piston up, hitting the spot deep inside you until your moans turned to hymns. It made your toes curl and your hand tighten around his throat. He then realized in that moment, looking up at you with your name dancing on his tongue, that you are his religion. He only lived for you and it took him so long to finally accept it. 

“Use me,” he panted. “Any way you want. I want to be yours,” he grounded your hips down on his and you traveled your hand up his throat to put two fingers in his mouth. You pinched his tongue with your thumb and finger before spitting in his mouth, which you sealed off with a kiss. Your hand went back to his throat and squeezed the sides just enough for him to whine into your mouth and switch positions. 

With your back laid flat on the bed he pounded into you, and the bed threatened to give out. The sound of the coupling was enough to wake up other guests in the motel with the creaking of the bed and your wailing. Wolfwood was too enraptured in every emotion that flitted across your face, every change in pitch in your moans, the pressure of your hands on his body to be considerate of anyone else. The only thing that mattered was you . 

“Tell me how you feel,” he prodded, kissing away your tears that he couldn’t truly feel sorry for. “Tell me you want me.”

“God, Wolfwood, I’m about to—“

“Say Nicholas. Say my name, please,” he reached down between you and found your clit. He circled his thumb around it at a much slower pace than what he was fucking your with, and he reveled in the way your eyes rolled back into your head.

“ Nicholasohmygod !” You tried to keep your orgasm at bay but Wolfwood was on a mission to break your consciousness. You tried to clear your mind for one last time, your hand resting on the back of his neck and feebly pulling his hair. 

“Can you come for me, baby? Please, I want us to come together, Nicholas.” 

Your wish was his undoing, and with a few harsh thrusts Wolfwood came right when you reached the peak the second time. You spiraled down together, and Wolfwood rolled his hips into yours until he had nothing left to give. You locked him in with your legs, breathing heavily as you finally stilled but you still couldn’t let go. He pulled out of you carefully but you still sighed from his absence. He quickly got up to go find a washcloth in the bathroom and came back with it damp to wipe your down. You would still have to take a shower, but you convinced him to hold you in his chest while your legs regained function.

“And if I asked you to run away with me?” 

The question took wolfwood off guard. He wasn't sure he heard you correctly, but the way you looked up at him with wide eyes proved that you meant what you said. 

“Where would we go?”

“Anywhere. We could visit everywhere. You can’t leave me, not again.” 

Wolfwood kissed the crown of your head. You were right, he couldn’t leave. He wouldn’t be able to live the way he had before now that you took this step. It would be too much for the both of you. 

“Let’s leave before the sun rises.”

You squeal, jumping up on the bed and covering his face in butterfly kisses. 

“I’m not tired enough to sleep, and sunrise is only a couple hours away…” you wiggled your eyebrows, and Wolfwood kissed you for the first time to mark forever.

𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳

Nicholas D. Wolfwood x reader (fem)

nsfw . male masturbation . multiple mentions of religious themes . minors please do not interact

"I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth...shit, what's next?"

Despite of what others think, Nicholas D. Wolfwood has come to the conclusion that he is indeed, the perfect example to belie the thought commonly held by people that him, and all the other children of the Lord who is high in the heavens, are made in his image and likeness. He is just a man, a mere mortal, vulnerable and weak in the face of temptation, son of original sin. Trying to atone for, and amend, the errors that life has brought within his path, and from which he cannot seem to escape.

Same life that unfortunately has also placed him in the way of your so intoxicating self. As if it were an unforgivable and cruel test to endure the strength of his already cracked spirit, a test to prove how much he is capable of resisting when the sharp claws of lust slowly scratch his back when he tries to sleep and the image of your beautiful face invades his mind. He also claims being able to feel them scratching once again when, after what seems like an eternal week of waiting, he manages to spot you sitting among the 47 people that fit in the orphanage’s chapel at the time of the religious ceremony he presents on Sundays at 10 in the morning.

Nicholas talks to himself all the time. He talks about a whole bunch of different things to stay busy and distant from the loneliness that his profession entails. He also writes, on a small black notebook that shamelessly reads Holy Bible on its cover, which he keeps in the inside pocket of his suit all day. It is possible to find random thoughts scrambled between its pages, occasional unfinished sketches of the kids who visit him frequently, prayers and attempts at poetry that, despite the ease he possesses to release a speech towards an audience made up of people full of faith in the word he preaches every weekend, the simple idea that one day you might inadvertently read what lies on those yellowish paper sheets terrifies him to the point where he can feel each and every one of his nerve endings on the surface of his skin, pulsing with the same intensity as the wings of a flying hummingbird.

He writes for you, more specifically. Even though in life, there are weaknesses that sometimes, do not allow the deepest feelings of the heart to flourish freely.

"I am just an object waiting to be ashes, and it is precisely for that reason that I would like my body to burn until it is consumed as one with yours. So at the end, dust will be the only thing that remains of our spirits, mixed together, to be later carried away by the wind of this unforgiving desert we call home."

“I have reached such a degree of insanity that, not even with the help of a thousand divine healing rites, my composure will return. I have even considered exchanging the blood of as many sinners as necessary to the Devil in order to melt into the blazing but purifying fire that surely arises with the single touch of your lips, and if you allow me, to endulge in the perfect contradiction that lies between your legs. A place both sacred and infernal, a place where good and evil converge and is powerful enough to drive even the most righteous and ruthless of religionists to an infinite madness. A place that I can only imagine feels like heaven and hell at the same time, capable to burn but also soothe the wounds in the soul of a disgraceful believer, one such as myself, your humble servant.”

“And I am not ashamed to affirm in front of the cross in which the son of God was punished because of filth like me, that, your mere presence encourages me to violate every order imposed by the invisible power of my belief, all that for what he, the same guy I mentioned earlier, sacrificed himself for in the first place. He sacrificed himself for you and especially for me, and above all, for the atrocities that come with the human race to disappear from the world. Such as the kind of things that flood my mind when my gaze manages to distinguish a little glimpse of your underwear when you put on that pretty dress of yours and you take a seat in the front row. A dress I like to imagine you only use for me.”

When Sunday comes, the ceremony starts and it's your turn at the moment of communion. It all happens in a matter of minutes every single time, a fleeting contact that is difficult to remove from his system. The host is delicately held by Wolfwood's hands as he stares at you, the abyss of his obsidian orbs capturing your attention to ask for your permission. You nod and look back at him too, subtly batting your eyelashes and slowly sticking out your tongue in an inviting way, that more than innocent, seemed diabolical, as if you knew which cards to move to obtain an absolute victory. And he feels it, he feels something struck his chest. Like a pair of magnets who can't fight the silent attraction that tries to unite them. You glance at the thick fingers infront of you for an instant, and then once again, you lift your stare towards him to take the host. His breathing stopped the moment he felt the back of his fingers get in contact with the wetness of your tongue while accommodating the wafer on it, and he almost, just almost, stutters in his words, but he doesn't, it takes all of his will not to. He blinks and his hand moves away from your lips to continue with the the other presents. You turn around and go back to your place without looking back. Luckily for him, the robe that covers his body does not allow to reveal any trace of what could give away his growing hunger for you.

Reminiscing something that he himself already wrote once in his notebook.

“It’s a disgusting sight, truly. How you take the sacramental bread from the hands of a sinful bastard, how you try to be purified by the same hands that are permanently stained with the obscene thought of consuming your body, your entire being. But you don’t have an idea of how much I love it, how much I want you to be mine.”

The lecture finished at 10:57 a.m. Nicholas remembers glancing at the watch on his wrist to regain the track of time he lost when you got close to his body. Seeing that people were starting to get up, he decided to clean his instruments to leave everything in order, and at the same time, bring some peace to his mind. He didn't have long arranging his space when Wolfwood felt a sudden and intense urge to look back, and when he did, you were the first thing that he focused on, stumbling upon the surprise of your eyes already searching for his while walking to the exit, wearing the most precious smile he’s ever seen on your face. A smile just for him.

By 11:23 a.m. the chapel was completely empty and Wolfwood walked with an unbearable weight on his feet towards the confined space of the confessional, along with a box of matches in hand that he took from an old cabinet. He closed the door, took a seat and leaned his head against the wall, which protested with a slight screech, as if it knew what was going through the troubled man's mind. Of course you appeared immediately, the images of every time you two have exchanged greetings in the streets, in the market, or even at the events to raise funds for the orphanage.

First came the color of your eyes, which seemed to dominate and illuminate the darkness of the small space he was in, then your eyebrows and the expressions that characterize your words while speaking. Thirdly, your mouth, the Eden he dreams of so much, reflected in the shine that your lips acquire when you bite and wet them with saliva. Imagining how they move to the compass of your voice, if they are rounded, if you smile or if you stay quiet. Nicholas raised his right hand and gently touched his own mouth to try to calm the urgency of joining it with yours. He closed his eyes and remembered the slight meeting he had with it an hour ago. The warmth of your breath on his knuckles and the softness he touched with the pads of his mistreated fingers. How easy would it be to draw a whimper out of you, the sweetest sound he can think of. His pants began to feel more and more uncomfortable with every passing minute, the pressure exerted by the growing erection in his groin started to become unbearable. Will he be able to obtain salvation if he confesses everything, here and now?

"God...please" And just as he often does, he began to talk. "I want her more than...a-anything in this world...can't I have her either?" The hand that previously touched your lips, traveled up to his crotch and gave a first cautious squeeze, allowing himself to be carried away by the venom of the serpent that condemned us all as sinners centuries ago, which little by little contaminated his veins and blinded his sight. Now not only did he imagine the Eden in your beauty, he was about to enter that precious place, only to break the rules. "I haven't been...a g-good man, but..." His breathing began to falter, with great gulps of air, his chest rose and fell, trying to oxygenate his racing heart. "I swear I...I can treat her right." The restraint of the stiff bottoms was starting to be painful for Nicholas, so he reached for the button, hastily undoing it to reach into his underwear. The burning heat of desire greeting him. And as he could, he pulled out his member from the base without removing his pants. The cold edge of the zipper brushed against the prominent veins of his rigid sex while his hand tried to conciliate the relief he so desperately needed. He kept traveling with his mind through your neck, your chest, your waist and your navel, the unknown nudity that he longes for unfolding before him in an imaginary scenario within the four small walls of the confessional. His breathing became more and more disturbed and growls began to sprout from the depths of his being.

"I'm sorry, God...I'm so s-sorry" He started to apologize because he knows exactly what is next. He enjoys being rough with his wicked self, he is violent. Pulling his own hair with one hand while the other strokes himself harshly. He spits on the tip, and watches how saliva slowly rolls to the base. He grunts, an animalistic type of sound that reveals the wildest part of his existence, his human predatory instinct, the part that he tries to repress with calling himself a preacher of the Lord’s word. He likes to tighten the grip in his member to the point where the veins on his forehead begin to become visible and the color of his shaft changes entirely with the accelerated flow of blood. Suffocating in his own body, a prisoner of his dark desires.

"Our Father, who...a-art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is...i-in heaven." It was in that moment when he began to pray. And the drops of fluid that came out of his slit with anticipation gave his hand more access to stroke with a quicker pace. From outside the confessional, it was possible to hear the faint slippery sound of friction from skin to skin and the murmured pleas of a man sunk in perdition.

"Give us this day our daily bread, a-and forgive us our trespasses...as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temp-temptation...but deliver us from...evil."

Would God be able to truly forgive such an act?

"A-Amen."

And it's just when he finishes his pleas that he finds himself betrayed by his own mind, letting your name slip from his lips, over and over again, like a renovated prayer, but profane and corrupted. The peculiar burning sensation in the lower part of his abdomen starts to approach. He bites the collar of his white camisole and drool escapes from the sides of his mouth in the delirium of a near orgasm. Squeezing his eyes shut he imagined your breasts swaying in front of his face as you grind on top, your angelic face contorted with the ecstasy of a fictional encounter, and your core eagerly receiving each of his thrust. The sweet aroma that your sweat must have and all the possible ways you could moan his name.

"Ni..cholas, ah...Nicholas...Nic..."

The entirety of his skin crawls to the thought. And his hips begin to move with an unbridled, involuntary frenzy, consequence of the carnal instinct that species keep hidden in their bodies.

"Oh...God..please, please...ple-please." He calls uselessly for the only one who could redeem him, the only one who could accept a sin like this. Finally, he rapidly drags his hand a couple of last times and the orgasm begins to hit his senses. A last growl comes out of his chest before his teeth unconsciously loosen the fabric of the shirt to let out a deafened cry. With some last thrusts, his hips rise in a lost rhythm from the bench on which he is sitting as his seed spills violently into his right hand, staining some of the fabric of his black pants along the way.

The warm sensation of contact with his own release brings him back to himself, and he can only at this point, contemplate more clearly the mistake he has made.

“Divine forgiveness, what a bunch of shit.”

He drops the other hand that was tugging at his brunette locks in the heat of the momentum inside his pocket, pulls out a cigarette, places it in his mouth and proceeds to wipe the remains of cum on his right palm with a handkerchief, so he can pick up the matches he had brought with him, light the stick, and take a hit, trying to quell with smoke the latent nectar of lonely intimacy impregnated in the air. He takes a few moments to let the haze of the moment pass completely as he watches the mess in his lap and his now softened member.

The cigarette is half finished, he is a fast smoker.

He inhales and exhales once more, and then, there’s a subtle, almost silent, knock on the door, followed by what he recognizes is your voice coming from the rusty confession room's grate.

“F-Father Nicholas...?”

𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳

Nicholas D. Wolfwood x reader (fem)

nsfw . male masturbation . multiple mentions of religious themes . minors please do not interact

“I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth…shit, what’s next?”

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𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳

Nicholas D. Wolfwood x reader (fem)

nsfw . male masturbation . multiple mentions of religious themes . minors please do not interact

“I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth…shit, what’s next?”

Seguir leyendo

a smoker and his consequences

this is very self indulgent and wrote at 6am with a headache so pls forgive any mistakes, i jus wanted to write wolfwood secretly caring the absolute most

nicholas d. wolfwood x reader

gender neutral, only fluff! reader has headaches because of his smoking and wolfwood cares in an unexpected way.

No one ever mentions the headache that comes with knowing a smoker.

They mention the cough, one that burns your lungs like you were smoking yourself, and the smell that lingers on your clothes for days even after washing, but never the headache. Never the headache that makes itself at home behind your eyes, makes even keeping them open too painful to manage. The headache that makes nausea welcome itself in your stomach, making it hard to hold a conversation or even close your eyes for rest. Knowing a smoker is hard, which meant knowing him was hell.

Him being your close friend and the person you had sat next to all day, Nicholas D Wolfwood. Being susceptible to these headaches means knowing Wolfwood wasn’t easy. Not when he goes through at least one pack of smokes a day, not when he causes nearly as much damage to himself as he does you with his cigarettes. Despite the pain, the almost permanent headache you had around him, you couldn’t help but be fond of the man. He had been travelling with you for a while now, and saying he didn’t make you happy would be a lie. Despite the headache, and his brash attitude towards everything including life itself, you cared for him. He was attractive, someone you could rely on, and if it wasn’t for his damn smoking you would have made much more of an effort to act on said attraction. You were always happy to talk to him, even about the most mundane things, but it was hard to stay invested in conversation when constantly seemed to have a cigarette on hand, revitalising the pain in your head each time.

You had recently gotten to a small village in the middle of nowhere, decided now would be the best time of any to make sure the car was charged and prepared for the rest of your journey,  make sure you all had food to last, and to get as much rest as you could before you set out again, either tomorrow or the day after, depending on the weather and how you all felt.The hostel had three rooms available for a decent price, three doubles that meant you’d all be able to get at least a decent sleep. Meryl and Milly would share a room, as would Vash and Wolfwood. With the odd amount of people in your party, you all took turns in who had a room to themselves, and you consider yourself lucky that this time it was your turn. The headache you had was raging, as a result of having to sit next to Wolfwood in the back of the car, and you really needed the rest. You knew that going to sleep this early wouldn’t be good for you, not when it meant you’d be awake in the middle of the night, but you really could not bring yourself to care. The pain between your eyebrows was only growing, and it showed in the way everyone was making conversation around you, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to join. Something that Meryl noticed quickly.

‘’Hey, you okay? You don’t look so good,’’ She spoke to you gently and quietly, knowing of your previous headaches.‘’If your head is hurting, you don’t need to join us for the supply run! You should go and rest whilst you can.’’ 

You let out a hum in response, returning the gentle smile she gave you with one of your own, and a small nod of your head. As you turned to walk up the stairs, you heard Vash jokingly mention his own ‘headache’, to which Meryl quickly swore at him and told him to shut up before she really did give him his own headache, to which Milly let out a loud (but not as loud as usual, she knew of your headache, and you really appreciated her in that moment) laugh. Despite the pain in your head, you couldn’t help the small, affectionate smile that came to your face. You really did care about all four of them so much, despite Wolfwood’s current out of character silence. 

Whilst you walked away up to your room, away from the noise, you missed the furrow in his brow and frown on his face. He wasn’t stupid. Wasn’t the type of person to miss little things, so when your headaches only happened around him, only happened when he was either currently smoking or had recently smoked, it didn’t take him long to connect the dots and realise what was happening. It’s what caused him to currently have a strawberry lollipop in his mouth instead of his usual cig, despite currently craving one so bad he felt like he could strangle needle noggin’ if he so much as tried to comment on the unusual action he was taking. He sighed, walking out of the hostel and ignoring the yells of ‘’Hey, where are you going?!’’ and ‘’Dude, you were meant to help us pick up the food!’’. He had his own plan, one that he deemed more important than helping the others, even if it meant they were angry with him. He didn’t mind, he’d deal with the yells and any punishment. His current task was more important to him, you were more important to him, he’d deal with everything else after he did what he needed to do.

A few hours later, in the middle of the night, you awoke from your nap. Despite the time, despite the fact you were currently awake in the middle of the night and felt as if you were now wide awake, you finally had managed to get some good sleep. Enough good sleep that your headache was almost entirely gone, and that you felt hungry enough to try and eat something. Standing up slowly, trying to avoid the old floor creaking, you slowly shuffled over to your shoes and put them on. You really were thankful for your own room, you wouldn’t want to wake anyone else with your midnight cravings, not when they’d all worked so hard during the day whilst you slept. With a quiet sigh, you slowly made your way downstairs, listening out to make sure everyone else was asleep. You could hear Vash’s snoring, and the quieter snoring from Meryl and Milly’s room was enough for you to know they were all asleep. The fact everyone was sleeping soundly made you smile, and you were careful not to make too much noise as you went downstairs.

The last thing you were expecting when you got downstairs was Wolfwood waiting for you, sitting in a chair with his arms crossed and head leant forward. He was… asleep. Asleep with a paper bag in his lap and surprisingly, not smelling of smoke. Walking towards him quietly, you knelt next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

‘’Wolfwood…’’ Voice gentle, you didn’t want to wake him unpleasantly, not when he already did not look comfortable in his position. ‘’C’mon, wake up, it’ll be better if you sleep in bed.’’

His eyes opened slowly, blinking the sleep out of them and letting out a loud yawn. It took him a moment to realise what was going on, where he was and who woke him up, and he gave an unusually sheepish smile once he knew what was happening.

‘’Ah, damn, must have fallen asleep waitin’...’’ His voice was quiet, deep with sleep, and it shouldn’t have sounded as attractive as it did. He stretched his arms above him, before grabbing the paper bag and throwing it towards you, despite how close you actually were to him. ‘’Here, for you.’’ 

The paper bag was light, and you furrowed your eyebrows. He had never gotten you anything before, never waited in the middle of the night for you to wake up just so he could give you something. Glancing between him and the bag, you sighed quietly before opening it. If he was so kind as to get you something, you would absolutely appreciate it. It was… headache tablets. He had gotten you medicine for your headaches. You knew he was aware of your headaches, but you never thought he would go so far as to get you medicine, not when you were scarce in resources and you knew how expensive medicine could be.

‘’For y’r headaches… I’m not stupid. I know i make them worse.’’

Your eyes widened, and you quickly looked up at him. You didn’t expect to see him so… sheepish, shy even. He genuinely looked guilty. You would never blame him directly for your headaches, but knowing he was aware he didn’t help and would go so far as to try to fix that… that meant a lot to you. Enough that your eyes filled with tears, the fact he had been paying attention enough to notice and wanted to help… It meant a lot to you. You quickly brought your hands up, wiping away at your eyes and turning away from the man sitting in front of you.

‘’Aw, Jeez..’’ Muttering to himself as he moved to kneel on the floor with you, gently taking your face in his hands. ‘’’M sorry, i really didn't mean to make you cry.’’ 

‘’No, no…’’ You started, letting out a quiet laugh and leaning into his touch, ‘’I'm really happy. I didn’t… I didn't think you noticed. Let alone enough to do all of this..’’ arms referencing the medicine in your lap, you offered him a gentle smile. ‘’Thank you, Wolfwood, really.’’

Another surprise was the way that his face flushed at your words. He gently rubbed any tears away with his thumbs, offering another sheepish smile. The act of kindness wasn’t unexpected from him, but he was always discreet in showing the fact that he cared. Saying he was full and giving you the rest of his food when he hadn’t eaten much at all and could tell you were still hungry, purposely running late so you could bathe first and get the hot water whilst he would be left with lukewarm at best… He’d never been so upfront about how far his affection for you went, and it was obviously new to him as well. The flush on his face was sweet, he was embarrassed at the fact he was being so open about everything. 

‘’Nicholas. And nah, don’t thank me…’’ a soft chuckle followed by a scoff, ‘’I caused you pain, this is the least i can do for you.’’ 

At his response, you brought your own hands up, mirroring the way he was holding your own face. You ran your thumb over his cheekbone, admiring him.In the dark dingy downstairs of the hostel, you could look at him closely. Usually, you weren’t alone with him, so your admiration was always a lot more secret, a lot more stolen glances and fantasising about him in your room at night. Being able to touch him like this, being so close to him with no interruptions and no one else around.. It was really, really nice. It was obvious Nicholas felt the same, if not by the affectionate look in his eyes then by the fact his hands had dropped to your shoulders, involuntarily moving you closer to him. It was almost by nature, the fact he wanted to be closer to you, wanted to be as close as he possibly could.

‘’Nicholas…’’ a quiet mutter, eyes glancing between his eyes and lips. He muttered your own name in response, his voice low and deep. In response to him glancing down at your own lips, you leaned forward to gently press your lips together, an intimate kiss.

And surprisingly, he only tasted of strawberries.

𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳

Nicholas D. Wolfwood x reader (fem)

nsfw . male masturbation . multiple mentions of religious themes . minors please do not interact

“I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth…shit, what’s next?”

Seguir leyendo