Vashnsfw Alphabet [J-Q]

vash—nsfw alphabet [J-Q]

welp. this is about the point where ya’ll realize how absolutely feral I am for this man-plant. talk about no self restraint, I wrote this in a stupor of simpery, was guided by the spirit of the horny ghost on this long journey. I also did not edit it, because nobody has time for that. anyways, starting off part two strong with J, for Jesus Christ, I Am So Down Bad I’m Literally On My Knees. it also stands for Jack Off, which is funnier, I think.

warnings/tags; afab, fem pronouns, p in v descriptions, public sex, overstimulation, oral/cunnilingus, edging, praise kink TO THE MAX, pain kink, [we know how I feel about this, but imma be real and say he’s a not-so-closeted masochist] rough sex, hair pulling, biting, BEGGING, so much begging, and probably a ton of other things but you get the point.

word count; 3.6K [lord help me]

part one, [A-I]

J = Jack off [masturbation headcanon]

⍟ Vash may be a Plant, but some might argue he’s more human than he believes himself to be. He still has to sleep, and eat, drink water or he’ll succumb to the tribulations of dehydration, and so he does indeed find himself burdened with the very human ailment of sexual frustration.

⍟ Although opportunities to relieve himself with another happen rather frequently [he’s not blind, he can tell when a woman wants him], he never entertains them. It’s not that they’re not beautiful, or kind, or caring—they certainly are, most of the time—it’s just that he doesn’t really allow himself that easy relief. Something about it just feels wrong, like he hasn’t done enough to deserve it.

⍟ A voluntary celibate, if you will. Besides, the idea of a quick romp in the tattered sheets with some nameless girl rings very hollow to Vash. The connection would be purely physical, and he believes it wouldn’t be fair for either party. If he’s going to let himself be that vulnerable with someone, he has to know them, trust them entirely.

⍟ Countless times he’s brushed off a flirtatious hand on his bicep, excused himself from the sultry, half-massed gaze of a pretty girl to sequester in whatever decrepit motel room he’s in for the night. It’s there that he finds his relief, alone.

⍟ When he’s enveloped in the privacy of a room or even the vast solitude of sand for iles around, the only light being that of a luminescent glow from above, Vash takes his time. His palm smooths down his torso, feeling the ridges of tender scar tissue, the protrusions of metal implants, before passing his belt entirely to press firmly against his groin.

⍟ He waits to shuck his pants down, just enough to wrap a hand around his stiff cock—waits until he’s panting softly, desperately. He has a tendency to tease and inch his way to a point where he can no longer hold back, and sometimes, longer still. But when he finally does, the sensation is strong enough that it feels like the first crack of rapture. His rolling breaths catch in his throat, moaning loud enough that he’s scoring his lower lip between his teeth, harshly stifling himself.

⍟ Vash is both embarrassed and shameful of this, but he tends to favor his prosthetic over his remaining hand. He takes pleasure in the initial contrast of cool metal against the stiff, hot silk of his length, and the sensors are dull enough that he can suspend his disbelief, if just for a moment—imagine that the tight fist stroking his cock belongs to another.

⍟ The guilt nearly ate him up alive the first time he envisioned your delicate hand there, your beautiful face resting against the sharp crescent of his hipbone, lovingly and patiently shattering him to pieces. It does still, but it’s a gnawing thing now, and Vash thinks that this is a guilt he’s capable of bearing; he simply can’t imagine anyone else.

Keep reading

vash—nsfw alphabet [A-I]

interrupting my irregularly scheduled program to drop these incredibly self-indulgent headcanons! this is totally unedited, completely off the cuff simpery, and I hope it tickles your fancy. part one of three, because I have absolutely no self restraint. I mean can you blame me? just look at himmmm!

warnings/tags; afab, fem pronouns, p in v descriptions, oral/cunnilingus, edging, praise kink, pain kink [listen I have thots and I’m sorry in advance but this gets a little dark], vash is insecure but we been knew that, 18+ [obvs], pls don’t read if you’re underage, or I’ll be forced to punt you into the stratosphere <3

word count; 3k [my hand slipped]

A = Aftercare [what they’re like after sex]

⍟ Vash is the absolute king of aftercare. He is so inherently caring, and that kindness extends to everyone, whether that be some stranger on the street or a dear friend, he just cares. So, best believe that his lover—his mayfly—is going to be treated as nothing short of royalty.

⍟ It starts before it even ends, bodies melded together with sweat and lust; hot, rolling breaths dampening your skin, Vash will immediately ask you, “Are you okay? Was that good? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

⍟ Admittedly, you were surprised after your first time together. Even when he’s utterly wrecked by pleasure, his first and only thought is whether or not you’re comfortable. Whether you enjoyed yourself, if he gave enough, if you need more from him. He will give you everything, you only need to ask, and even when you don’t, he will give.

⍟ Entirely at your whim afterwards, as though you’ve cast some intangible love spell on him. He’s so adorably eager as he cleans you up, presses his canteen into your hands, pulls you close like he hasn’t been inside you for the last two hours. He has a tendency to borderline coddle you, but you’re certainly not complaining.

⍟ He’s well aware of how dangerous it is to be associated with him, and as the long years have passed, he’s tried not to grow attached. It’s better that way, for everyone, but Vash can’t seem to muster the strength to leave you…so he’s going to do everything in his power to keep you safe, to ensure you are never hurt, to do right by you. It goes without saying, but Vash absolutely cherishes you, and he shows it whenever, and however he can.

Seguir leyendo

Vash x Plant!Reader Drabble

NSFW! Minors, shoo

When Vash makes love to you, he unconsiously expands his wing to coccoon the both of you, creating this safe space for you. This safe space is so warm and full of love and so beautiful because of how Vash's black wing is adorned with his blue flowers and the occasional purple energy that shimmers on his wing. It's like another galaxy in his coccoon. Roots will emerge from his back and they will lovingly carress you. Your body unknowingly brings out your own roots, too, to entertwine with Vash's.

When the both of you reach release, your tangled roots will create numerous flowers, a sign of your love for each other.

Bonus:

Vash will joke that the flowers are now your flower kids. (But inside, he's going to name each one of them.)

Vash calling his baby "lil seedling 🌱" 🥺

This hits so hard after finishing Tristamp that I am bawling in real life. Balling with a W.

HE WOULD LOVE HIS CHILD SO MUCH HE WOULD BE SUCH A GOOD FATHER AND SO GRATEFUL AND HAPPY AND breaks down into hysterical sobbing

omg i would die if you draw millions knives (trigun stampede)! i love your art sm ♡

a/n: geto has glasses in this / based on what i wrote below for someone:

On Sunday morning, the sun seeps into the blinds we argued over (you let me choose in the end) and there is a ripe clementine on the kitchen top. I relish at having woken up before you (because you said how European people are always early birds. Birds can oversleep too.), and seeing the mess of blonde and the freckles you said you hated so much.

My thumb rubs away something on your face like how I’d peel away at the fruit and I use a little too much force. In the next hour it happens again and you laugh at how the juice misses your eye by an inch.

“Thank God I have my glasses on your bedside table, at least. I’ll wear it after.” And after the mundane statement and a graze of your lips on my cheek, I realise how much I like having your things on my furniture and a just-ripe clementine for sharing each time the sun awakens.

wc: 0.7k

the sun is burning when you wake up, back slick with sweat when you rouse from slumber, and you catch the culprit sinking more and more into your rear: geto suguru, one of the special grade sorcerers and a teacher at his alma mater, mumbling into your neck.

it’s a sight to see, to be honest — you’ve seen his demeanour with enemy curse users, with satoru at times — it’s nothing like how geto is when he’s with you.

a flip switched even when he senses you, because he always has a curse guarding you. his eyes soften and his features relax and sometimes he can feel his curses leaving his body with how unstable his heart is and he finds it so hard to control his cursed energy.

sleepily, you inch away from his warm body before sitting up, huffing out a sigh at how your shirt sticks to your back. you’re not complaining, but sleeping in was something you cherished, and waking up sweaty is not the best way to go about it.

you find that your body is warm like helios, but your heart burns brighter than the god’s rays that filter through the blinds that geto let you choose. you have to clutch onto your heart, shaky breaths leaving you.

because you’ve shared a bed so many times, but you still feel like the you who resided in the basketball court, watching suguru practise his shots. your cheeks are flushing from hearing him say this is for you! and then almost missing it if it wasn’t for his curses helping him.

“sweetheart? what’s up?” geto is groggy in the morning, voice scratchy and raspy from the lack of use (he doesn’t sleeptalk like gojo). you shake your head, letting your lover wrap his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your nape.

“just thinking ’bout how much i love you,” you mumble quietly, putting your hands to your face and screaming into it, feeling a smile upon your neck. “you’re so sweet and so cute and hot and—”

“you just take care of me so well.” the last part is a little sentimental, now a little embarrassed at your outburst. geto notices this, easily manoeuvring you into his lap.

“baby. of course i do,” the other removes your hands from your face, kissing both of them before putting them around his shoulders. “i’d die before i put my needs before yours.”

“if you wish to be the stars, then i’ll become the night sky that wraps around you. if you’re a praying mantis, i’d give you my body to eat up.”

you make a face at that, pushing him away at that disgusting image he put in you and he laughs; he sounds like everything right in your life and it’s like you don’t know what disgust is anymore.

“gross. and cheesy. and also was that an oral joke?”

it’s later when geto says that instead, although just the first word, because you absolutely suck at peeling oranges and clementines; you insist on doing it. you’re digging your thumbs all the wrong ways into the fruit and you burst out laughing as another spurt of juice meets with geto’s face.

it just barely misses his eye and he just narrows his eyes at you, reaching for the clementine. you just put it further and further from him, chairs scraping the floor from the chaotic scene.

although suguru is insistent on taking the fruit from you, he lets you win anyway, because it’s so natural to him. video games, random races, rock, paper, scissors. god, he’d let you win at the stupidest games. and with this simple gesture, he knows you want to take care of him.

so while there’s a scowl on his face, you know he never means it when you chase him around the house with a half peeled clementine and juices spraying from how badly you peel it and booming laughter at how he frantically puts on his glasses.

you know suguru could never mean it as long as his glasses take its place beside your phone (and his), as long as there’s clementines in a grocery bag — and as you pop a wedge of the orange fruit into his mouth and the sweet flavour of the citrus floods his mouth, geto suguru hopes you’ll never share your uneven slices with anyone but him.