#Ask spring vash

[askspringvash]

Ask Desert Spring Vash!

Welcome to Ask Spring Vash, an ask blog specifically for the iteration of Vash from our fancomic, Trigun: The Desert Spring, a.k.a. Spring Vash!

Co-written by @lavvythejackalope and @hyperfi, The Desert Spring and this version of Vash exist in their own timeline, independent of any particular canon iteration, being kind of a mishmash of all of them.

Spring Vash is more than happy to answer any questions you might have about differences in the timeline, things about the world, or even things that happen in the comic. Some time in the future he may reblog comic pages with his own commentary on the situation as well, we will just have to see how he feels!

Trigun: The Desert Spring Index

This is a Trigun Fancomic co-written by @hyperfi and myself! It may contain spoilers for various iterations of Trigun, as well as;

Gun Violence

Underaged Drinking

Mental Illness

Blood

Trauma

Depictions of children in distress

Implications of slavery

Adult themes

Chapter 1

pg1 / pg2 / pg3 / pg4 / pg5 / pg6 / pg7 / pg8 / pg9 / pg10 / pg11 / pg12 / pg13 / pg14 / pg15 / pg16 / pg17 / pg18 / pg19 / pg20 / pg21 / pg22 / pg23 / pg24 / pg25 / pg26 / pg27 / pg28 / pg29 / pg30 / pg31 / pg32 / pg33 / pg34 / pg35 / pg36 / pg37 / pg38 / pg39 / pg40 / pg41

Chapter 2

Pg42 / pg43 / pg44 / pg45 / pg46 / pg47 / pg48 / pg49 / pg50 / pg51 / pg52 / pg53 / pg54 / pg55

The Desert Spring is its own, alternate timeline, and should be considered wholly separate. It draws primarily on Trigun Maximum and Trigun Stampede as its sources.

Updates on Wednesday Mornings!

Additional Links

Here's my Ko-Fi, just in case you were looking for it.

[vashs-turtleneck]

Desperate.

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ only)

Summary: What happens after Vash almost loses you. Pairing: Vash the Stampede x Reader Word Count: .8k CW: smut, pwp, slightly rough sex, penetrative sex, angst, crying AN: wrote most of this while I was at work ehehe so it's not really proofread

Desperate!Vash, whose heart sinks deep into the pit of his stomach whenever you get hurt or put yourself in the line of danger. A bullet flying past your head, barely missing your temple. He sees it coming, his sharp eyes watching its trajectory, yet he's not fast enough, he's not strong enough, and the only reason you're still alive is by sheer dumb luck. A little to the left, a little higher, and it would have been over, the flame of you permanently extinguished, his heart hammering away in his chest at the realization that he almost just watched you die. His hold on you is always a bit tighter after these moments, clinging to you and keeping you in his line of sight at all times. You won't get hurt. Not again. Whatever it takes, he'll keep you safe. 

Desperate!Vash, who pushes you against the nearest surface as soon as the door to your shared room is closed, pulling you closer and away from prying eyes, taking your mouth in a feverish kiss that threatens to crash your teeth together every time your lips meet. His strong body presses your back into the wooden door, caging you against him. You're exactly where he wants you, exactly where he can see you. Wrapped up in his arms, encased between the door and his broken body, you're safe. 

Desperate!Vash, who lifts you by your hips, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his tapered waist. He presses your back against the closest wall, his hands pulling at you– at your clothes, at your hair, at your hips– needing you closer. However close, it's not close enough. He can't be asked to take it slow, not right now, as he hurriedly unbuttons your pants and pulls them down to your knees. He tears your underwear off, leaving it to dangle loosely between the two of you before he's already shoving two long and dexterous fingers inside you. It's quick, sloppy, his fingers pumping harshly into that sweet spot inside you that has your body quaking until his hand is dripping in your arousal.

Desperate!Vash, who fumbles with his own pants, shaky hands making him struggle with his belt and zipper. He can't get them off fast enough. Just like your own pants, he doesn't bother himself with taking them off completely. He pushes them down just far enough to free himself, his cock springing from the confines of his boxers, groaning as he feels himself throbbing in the cold air.

His hands grip you, calloused palms spreading your delicate flesh as he presses the tip of himself to your entrance, a brief warning before pushing forward and completely sheathing himself in you with one sharp roll of his hips, pulling the breath from your lungs. He hisses through gritted teeth, your body barely prepped enough to accommodate the sheer girth of him. He stifles your cries of pain and pleasure with his lips, swallowing your sounds before pulling back and leaning against the side of your head. He brokenly whispers his sweet apologies, heartbreakingly chanting “I’m sorry” over and over again like a hopeless prayer as he begins swaying his hips and slamming you down onto his cock with a frenzied, almost angry rhythm that has your nails digging into the fabric of his crimson jacket.

Desperate!Vash, who knows he's not giving you the tenderness you deserve, and the guilt is enough to eat him whole, yet he can't stop. His body feels like it's burning, crumbling under the weight of knowing that he almost lost you, overwhelming his better judgment. He needs to remind himself– you're with him, you're here, you're safe, you're alive. His actions are primal, his body moving on pure instinct, the pain and guilt he keeps buried deep bubbling up. He shoves the bottom of his shirt into his mouth, teeth clenching into the fabric, holding it up to make sure nothing gets in the way of the frenetic rhythm of his cock sinking into you, and giving you a tantalizing view of the quick undulations of his lower half.

Desperate!Vash, who lets his head fall to your shoulder when he cums, sobbing into the divot of your collarbone, whimpering his apologies and praises, how much he loves you, how much he needs you. He can't live without you, and yet he'll be the reason he loses you. The crushing weight of reality floods him to the core, crippling his body with fear and grief. His arms tighten their hold on you, wishing that he didn't ever have to let you go, that another day didn't have to come so that he could never have to risk losing you.

Desperate!Vash, who only knows what his life was before you, what it is with you, and he prays to a God he doesn't believe in every time he's faced with the reality that one day, should he be cursed to live so long, there will be a time after you.

divider.

[novasintheroom]

091. Yellow Tulip

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 1.3k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: Vash realizes he's in love with you.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

The Tinkertons are grateful. Bringing back the entire flock of toma in one go wasn’t easy, nor expected. The bandits are already rounded and tied up, waiting for the local sheriff to arrive outside. They spit and glare anytime Vash got too close, like cats.

Mr. Tinkerton’s wide-eyed gaze was reward enough, and was all that was expected, really. Still, Mrs. Tinkerton insisted you both at least stay the night as some kind of reward for saving their farm.

Which leads to Vash standing in the hallway of the Tinkerton farmhouse while its matriarch digs through their closet for spare blankets. His feet hurt. So do his shoulders. Wrangling toma is no easy task, and wrestling them away from bandits even harder. Distantly, he wonders how you’re doing; everything happened so quickly, he isn’t sure how you’re feeling. He’ll have to ask.

“Alright, there you are my dear.” Mrs. Tinkerton places a large blanket in Vash’s arms. “Your girl’s already got the sheets, so it should be a quick make-up.”

There’re yellow tulips on the blanket. It’s fluffy, with the smell of musk from sitting in a closet too long. Vash bunches it up in his arms, murmuring a ‘thank you’ to Mrs. Tinkerton before turning and heading for the guest room.

“Breakfast will be ready at five,” Mrs. Tinkerton calls out. Vash turns again to nod, but she’s already moving down the stairs. Five, he thinks, yawning and going into the room.

There’s a lamp on in the corner, painting the already-yellow room in warm light. You’re set up on the bed reading one of your books. Your toes wiggle when he enters. “Oh, that looks like a good blanket!” Sitting up, you scooch over to let him kneel on the bed. He throws the blanket over your head, and you sputter under the fabric. “Hello?”

He lets out a chuckle and pulls the blanket down. Your hair is askew. “Aw, so pretty,” he croons. He reaches out to muss your hair even more. You swat him away, and he laughs.

“Knock it off!” You whine. “You’re gonna make me bend the pages!” Grouchy, you pull your book from under the blanket and finger the paper, checking for rips or tears.

“Oh the pages, the pages,” he jokes. “It’s fine, see?”

You sniff and pull the blanket around you, facing toward the wall. “Just get dressed already, you’re annoying me.”

He grins and flicks your ear before going for his bag. There’s a warmth, a giddiness in him, at the prospect of having a nice, clean place to sleep tonight. He closes the room’s door and dresses in his PJ’s quickly.

When he turns, he only sees a ball of blanket on the bed. You’ve burrowed yourself thoroughly in. “You have to share,” he warns. Vash pads over and pokes some of the tulips. You squeal and curl in deeper. “Mayfly, share.”

“No.”

His brows uptick. Really, now? He snakes his arms around your wrapped body and heaves you into the air. Your scream is muffled, but he maneuvers onto the bed and against the wall before gently lowering you back to the mattress. Feeling the softness under you again, you poke your head out of the blanket and give him a glare. “I was going to move!”

“No, you weren’t,” he laughs. He shifts to his side of the small bed, pulling at the blanket to get some for himself. “You have to share,” he says again.

A deep, heavy sigh blows out of you, and you reluctantly give up half the blanket to him. When you’re both under and have stopped shifting to get comfortable, the creaking of the bed springs and frame lessening, it is quiet. You go back to reading, and Vash stares at the ceiling. He naturally moves his arm up when you scoot closer to him, back pressing into his side and your ankle hooking to his.

It spirals his mind like a slow-moving drain, water and thoughts swirling down its sleepy path. His eyes feel heavy. Muscles sore.

“How do you feel about today?” he asks, shaking off sleep.

“Hm?” You put a finger in your book and glance at him over your shoulder. “Fine. Sore and tired. Why?” Then, brows pressing down, you roll over to face him. “Are you okay?”

And…he doesn’t know what comes over him. Perhaps it’s your sweet worry, the yellow light at your back, the feel of your ankle on his. But he mouths it before he realizes: ‘I love you.’

A cold sweat breaks out on his neck, and he sucks in a breath. It’s as much of a revelation to him as it is to you, surely. His skin prickles. What will you say to this?

Your eyes move from his lips to his eyes, confused. “What? What are you saying?...Why do you look like that?”

Lucky for him, you’ve always been bad at lipreading.

His breath comes out in a great gust, and you wrinkle your nose. “Go brush your teeth, your breath reeks.”

It doesn’t, and he has, but he laughs and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. You grumble, not in the mood for his affection; you want to read your book! Vash bonks his head against yours and says, “I was saying, ‘You’re my best friend.’”

“Tch. Get off me.”

He just laughs again and kisses your temple, releasing you to let you turn back over and get back to reading.

“You’re weird,” you mumble, embarrassed and a little flustered. Vash has a way of doing that to you lately.

But he doesn’t notice, so caught up in his realization that he…he loves you. Is in love with you. It…doesn’t scare him. Not as much as he thought it would, anyway. Vash readjusts on the bed, careful to give you enough room and squishing against the popcorn wall. The ceiling is the same – lumps of gravel and shards of metal holding the plaster together. He stares at it for a long time. He’s in love. He really is in love.

There’s the dread, of course. He was never meant to fall in love. Not with anyone. Yet his heart has betrayed him, following you and settling down in the warmth of your eyes, your smile. Is he desperate? Lonely? He shakes his head. No. Not since you came along.

Seventy-nine years he wandered alone. He forced another ten years out when he left you in the middle of the night. He knows what lonely is. This is not it. It settles over him like a blanket, warm and soft and so, so comforting. Like the blanket you both have now, covered in butter-yellow tulips. Symbols of friendship. He wants to reach out and hold you close to him. His best friend. His love.

“Alright,” you mutter after a time, startling him out of his thoughts, “I’m going to bed.” You groan when you sit up, walking on sore feet to the light switch. The light turns off, but Vash still sees you stumble back to bed. He opens his arms for you, and you fall into them.

“You’re really cuddly tonight,” you comment, settling your head on his chest.

He huffs. “Does it bother you?”

“No. Just noticing.”

Your breathing evens out after a few moments. Vash’s heart slows with you. It’s easy. It’s suddenly so easy, thinking of loving you. If you had asked him twelve years ago if he ever thought he’d be in love, he’d deny it with everything in his being. Love was not for him. Not after what he’s done. Maybe it still isn’t.

But he’s learned to not deny himself emotion. And what greater emotion is there than love? So he’ll hold you close, pretending that he is normal, that he is just a man with the woman he loves, and who loves him back.

Just for tonight.

[messinwitheddie]

Krampus "You hailed me... in die middle of SPRING... to ask me vhich one of you should vash dishes tonight?"

Pepito "And to say hi; see how you're holding up. Hola, tío Krampus! Hola, bebés!"

[In the background:

Squee "I got stuck with the dishes six nights in a row! Someone else tonight! PLEASE!"

Dib "It's not our fault the dish washer shit the bed and dad is taking his sweet time fixing it!"

Squee "It kind of is because a certain couple of somebodies never rinse the dishes beforehand!"

Gaz "I wash, dry AND fold 3 boys worth of smelly socks and fart infused boxers all week! Make Dib wash the dishes!"

Dib "Dad jams ME with shoveling duty and yard work all year around! Make HER do the dishes!"

Gaz "Fuck you."

Dib Fuck YOU."

Squee "Please, anyone but me! I work in the morning!"]

Krampus "Look, liebling, I don't have time for games. End die call, please. I have to check the traps und make breakfast for my kids. The vife vill be home soon--"

Pepito "It's mostly about the first thing though. I'm a guest at this house, so I'm technically not obligated to wash dishes ever around here, right?"

Krampus *several slow blinks* "............Pepito vash die damn dishes."

Pepito "What??! NO!!"

Dib/Gaz "Yes!!"

Krampus "Todd, go take a nap."

Squee "That works."

Pepito "This is bullshit!"

Dib "No, no, we all agreed your uncle Krampus was the "unbiased adult figure" that would make the call and he made the call. That was the deal; you can't back out now."

Squee "Your plan backfired, didn't it."

Pepito "Eat my ass, Squee."

Krampus "Everyone do your chores or come die first snowfall I beat you all skinnless vith birch branches."

Gaz "You can't threaten me with a good time."

Krampus *snort!!* Excuse me?"

Gaz "I do my chores."

Krampus "Do them vithout bitching. Both of you."

Dib "We will make a sincere effort to bitch less."

Gaz "What he said. We appreciate your time and input, Pepito's uncle Krampus. Thank you for settling this matter."

Pepito "Yeah. Thanks a lot."

Krampus "Behave, liebling. Don't make me call your fader. Now end die call, please."

Pepito "Love you, tio Krampus. You're still my favorite, but I won't forget this. See you in 8 months! Bye, bebés!..."

Krampus "Say goodbye to die antikrist, children."

"Hejdå, antikrist!"

*call ends*

Pepito "The one demonic relative I have that doesn't completely suck and he decides tonight is the night to suck hard! Un-be-fucking-lievable. My whole family is against me!"

Squee "Here you go."

Pepito "To warn you ahead of time, I'm doing a bad job. You'll have to rewash everything tomorrow."

Squee "I expected nothing less from you and I can live with it. 'Night."

[Here's to wasting time at work the past couple of nights. I should be wasting time at work finishing up a dozen other wips, but the dialogue in my head was eating away at me. A little scene from when Squee goes to live in the Membrane household.

Loosely based on the Always Sunny in Philadelphia episode, "The Gang gets analyzed."

[typingdyslexiaisathing]

Love Over Time (Trigun) fanfiction

Vash woke up to the sound of soft sniffling. His mind soon awake and alert that his wife wasn't next to him. So Vash rolled over and out of the bed to head for the bathroom. The door cracked open for him to knock softly on the door. Which had Anya go quiet right away. So Vash spoke up to make sure Anya was okay. "Honey? Are you all right? Did you have a bad dream? Or are you coming down with something?" The silence was deafening for Vash to start to really worry. But soon the door eased open for him to look down at his wife. The woman who had stolen his heart so many years ago. Anya was older now than when they had first met. But he still looked at her with that feeling his heart was soaking in soft spring sunshine. So Vash smiled down at Anya to reach his hand up and cup her cheek. Wiping away her tears on that side of her face with his thumb. "Oh honey. What is it? Please tell me. Please."

Anya gave another sniffle to lean into his touch. But her tears kept falling as she spoke with utter misery. "It's hopeless. I've tried and tried for months. But nothing is working. Instead of losing all this weight I gained, I just seem to add more." Vash blinked to then pause as he floundered for the right words to say. While Anya whimpered to then lean herself into his front. So Vash hugged her close as she sobbed and sniffled. "It's not fair. I keep doing those workouts and watching what I eat. But nothing makes any difference. The older I get the rounder I get. I hate it! I hate how I feel so fat and ugly!" Vash felt those words rip through his whole body. Hugging Anya closer to soon trace a hand through her long red curly hair. Red that now had traces of tinsel white in it. Vash didn't care about such things. He loved Anya and still lost his breath whenever she walked into the room. So he spoke with pure love to his wife. "Oh Anya. I know you are doing your best to be healthier. I know you are trying. My gorgeous and radiant rose. Time always seems to add more struggles in ways we tend to despise. But you are simply you, Anya. The woman I love with all my heart and soul."

Anya gave a hiccup for Vash to move so they were sitting on the bed. He took his time holding tissues to Anya's nose so she would 'toot the trumpet' as they told the local children. Soon leaning in to place tender kisses to Anya's face as he nuzzled and cuddled her. "Mine. My perfect love. My precious rose in the desert. I am the luckiest man alive to have you for my wife. Every day we've been together has been a joyous blessing. From the very start to all these years later. I have everything I have ever wanted in you and this life we have." Anya gave a sniffle to ask Vash, "Really? Even though it's been almost two decades since that day we first met? Even though we only met because I lost my scarf in the breeze for you to catch?" Vash grinned as the memory replayed in vivid detail. How a soft blue scarf had all but surprise floated over his head. Only to turn and see Anya come running up chasing after it. A pretty young woman with short curly hair and freckles all over her face. Eyes that were the most dazzling shade of silver grey Vash had ever seen. He had felt so stunned he had been unable to really form full sentences. The memory making him grin to come back to the present.

Vash gave a chuckle of pure joy before he spoke. His words full of love and contentment. "Anya. I am sure that God made the breeze grab up your scarf to then drop it on my head. At least I choose to think so. And I am thankful every second of every day and night that God did just that. You are my perfect summer day. My warm winter night in front of a fire. Every moment we have is one I gives thanks for and count as prefect. You are my perfect everything, Anya. I cannot help but keep on falling in love with you." Anya gave a squeak of shyness for her blush to creep in. Which dusted over her face and ears for Vash to giggle over. So Anya scooted closer to give Vash a good hug as he wrapped his arms around her. His wife saying with soft words, "My wonderful and sweet husband. Thank you. Thank you so much, Vash. I shouldn't linger in doubts or bad thoughts when I have you to shoo them away for me. I love you, sweetheart."

The two stayed in that good hug for a while. But then Vash had a thought to simply sigh. "I am fairly certain that everyone on Ship 3 expected for us to visit a month ago. For many different reasons. So I think we should go back and see everyone. As well as do that dreaded health check up the ship's doctor threatened us with. I get poked and prodded and lectured. You get insight on better ways to workout and or try things they might have for losing weight and being healthier overall. So we both get the hospital gown and cold breeze in places together." Anya gave a grumble of resignation before she huffed. "You evil opportunist. Fine. Fine. My boss at the bank offices keeps hounding me about using my vacation time. So I can let him know I'm taking it right the heck now. While you get to pack our bags and see that the little details get taken care of." Vash let Anya go for her to get onto her feet. Yet Vash wasn't able to stop himself from giving Anya's backside a pat of encouragement. Which earned him a squeak and a light tap on the head before Anya headed for the phone. Meaning Vash got to watch her sway that very round and very perfect backside as she moved. Not even hiding his grin when Anya told him, "Less staring and more packing."

[narrators-journal]

The season of snakes and figs

Let’s fucking gooooo! This one’s pretty rough, but, despite how restless I was while writing it, and how much of a bitch it was to find a scenario to go with, I had a surprising amount of fun! It’s still a bit rough in parts, I struggle to clearly describe my more original monster designs in writing, but this was good practice! As for Vash’s monster design here, uhhhhh I kinda just chose to make him a Naga bc I don’t write Naga’s, like, ever, and I’ve seen some absolute banger art on pinterest of him in a more snakey, aphithere form that I enjoy. I hope you guys enjoy it too!

CW: Teratophilia, belly bulges, weird ass genitalia, dubcon energy for sure, aphrodisiacs, oviposition, mpreg basically lol. If I missed anything, let me know!

The blonde creature’s large, mismatched hands slid down your belly while he nuzzled into your shoulder. The smooth plastic of his prosthetic fingers a cold juxtaposition to the hazy warmth that oozed from your skin the same way the storm-chilled spring air that slipped in through the window that the naga-like monster had left open was. So, when his prosthetic hand’s fingers wrapped around your semi-hard cock to massage and stroke moans out of you. His other, warmer, hand meanwhile, continued further down your lust-riddled body until the naga-esque monster could squeeze your thigh and pull your legs apart so that you straddled his pale serpentine lower body.

That vulnerability alone was enough to make you shudder, but the cool smoothness of the creature’s scales beneath your bare ass on top of that let a moan slip out into your dark bedroom. And once that initial barrier was broken the slow tease of the curious creature’s plastic fingers was able to pull other lewd noises from you with a shameful amount of ease.

I really should be fighting more… You reminded yourself while you laid across the blonde demi-human’s scarred chest like a pad of butter on a hat pancake. Completely at the mercy of the monster that kissed and nipped your throat at the same time that he stroked and toyed with your cock. Yet, even with that thought added to the mix of cloudy bliss and need, the monster’s...pollen? Pheromones? You hadn’t the foggiest idea what was to blame for the desire-soaked cotton that filled your skull, but no matter what it was, had you in a chokehold.

So much so, in fact, that it took you a moment to register the tickle of blue, grass-thin feelers against your inner thighs. Though, when you finally did and looked down, you found that a pair of small wings the same color as the demi-human’s underbelly had opened up to let those feelers slither out of a drooling slit in a bare patch where the serpentine scales had seemingly worn away to expose the soft flesh beneath. “Wh...what the fuck?…” You asked through the haze in your head, but the blonde creature didn’t answer. Instead, he simply let your cock go so that both of his hands now rested on your thighs. More than strong enough to overwhelm your modesty so that the tendrils that slid and explored your skin could freely work their way towards your ass. Though, with the pleasurable lightning that they sent over your skin each time that they drew a new trail of slick across your thigh, you were too busy fighting to breathe to squirm or push them off of you. So, you were more than happy to simply moan when the first of the feelers inquisitively dipped into your ass. The minimal friction a spark of relief from the incessant heat beneath your skin, and it only grew when the other feelers followed the first one’s lead to explore your hole.

Which, felt odd. It was odd to feel so many things slip into you and begin to thrust, yet be too thin to fully sate the need that made your now-neglected cock twitch against your belly, but not bad. It simply drove you mad to feel the thin tendrils teasingly nudge and slide over your overly-sensitive walls while they explored deeper and deeper with each thrust. It drove you a bit mad to have the more humanoid upper body of the monster hold your thighs apart so that you couldn’t even squirm in frustration.

All you could do was press your back against his scarred torso and whine into your shadowy bedroom. Though, if your impromptu lover could understand you, all he offered in reply was a buzzy whine like a horribly tuned television and a microphone’s feedback mixed together. At least, until the blonde moved his head from your neck to capture your lips in a heated kiss that swallowed your moans and whines. Until, after what felt like an hour, though it was more likely a simple five minute stretch, you felt a bigger tendril push into your ass to follow the thinner tendrils.

Granted, the smooth, blue tendril wasn’t very big, it was still only the thickness of a ballpoint pen as it thrust into you and suction-cupped itself to every spot that made you arch your back and whine into the demi-human’s mouth. Though, the only thing the naga-like monster did was break the kiss to bury his face back into your neck. Your cock left to twitch and throb while you choked on the grass-scented aphrodisiacs in the air. Your thighs still held apart by the monster’s hands, the coil in your belly tightened by each gush of what you could only guess was either lubricant or some sort of aphrodisiac liquid that made your walls tingle.

Yet, despite the fact that you couldn’t understand whatever ‘language’ your monstrous lover spoke, you could understand the impatient ripple that you felt just beneath the smooth scales of his serpentine lower body. And, you could understand the way that the blonde’s mismatched hands twitched against your spread thighs, and his lower body fidgetted beneath your ass. And, that impatience was confirmed a mere moment later. When a third tendril of sorts slipped free of the slit in the blonde demi-human’s lower body right before your wide, lust-blown eyes.

This tendril was very different from the first ones, though. Even through the thick haze of the pollen or pheromones, your stomach fluttered with a mixture of anxiety and excitement. The tip of it looked like a tightly closed, darker blue flower bud that was the size of your hand on a two-inch-thick vine. Thinner at the tip and about as thick as a coke can at the base of the bud, all you could think of when you saw the way that it shone with a thin layer of some sort of lubricant was, Oh god, is that going to fit? Would this thing be able to pull that out?

However, you weren’t given much time to contemplate that question before it pushed into you and washed the coherent thoughts out of your head in a tidal wave of bliss. And, after that, it was nearly impossible for you to form a thought. Not with the way that the bulbous tip of the new tendril stretched your hole to a nearly painful degree until it was buried in your lube-slick warmth. No thought could withstand the delicious relief that flooded into your belly when the girthier tendril set a slow, thorough pace that let the flower bud tip squeeze every last drop of thick fluid from the squishier, thinner tendril that had just prepped you. Which, still did its best to thrust in time with the larger tendril that created a bulge in your belly once it had worked its way deep enough.

And, all you could do was lay back against the blonde’s torso and moan like a needy whore with each thrust. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you babbled, the taste of grass still thick on your tongue, your skin still heated with the flames of induced lust, and your prostate abused every time the thick tendril slid back to the base of his swollen tip, and pushed back in with a soft, wet squelch that seemed to make your dick twitch in time with every new curse that fell from your lips.

All the while, the blonde upper body of the monster moved his mismatched hands from the tops of your thighs, to the bottoms. That way, he could lift your legs and easily adjust your position to let his tendrils fuck into you deeper. Let the slow thrusts arch your back once again and press against your neglected cock whenever the bulbous tip of the monster’s tendril bulged into your belly. All while you whined and begged mindlessly into the quiet darkness of your bedroom. “Oh my god, oh fuck, keep doing that. W-wait, no. Go faster, please.” Which, only got you more monotone tones and buzzes from your lover while his tendrils refused to speed up or get rougher with you to fully sate the hellish heat that tightened the coil in your belly until it ached and snapped. Not that your yowls of pleasure, or the ropes of hot cum that splashed across your belly every time that euphoria throbbed through your cock stopped the tendril within you, though.

No. Despite the way that the demi-human’s breath quickened with his own need and desperation, the blonde’s final tendril continued it’s lazy pace until it was satisfied. Until it was satisfied with the pained whimpers that had begun to slip out. Only then did the tendril begin to drag itself out. Your whines muffled by another kiss, especially when the secondary tendril stayed inside of your ass to thrust and spew out more of that thick fluid that trickled out of your hole and made your skin tingle.

By the time that you registered the blonde monster’s moans, or felt a more solid mass slide down the tendril to slip into you and be planted against your twitchy, overly-sensative walls, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. All you did was count,

1...

2, 3, 4…

Even when the burn of desire began to ebb further from your skin with each breath you gulped down.

5…

6…

You began to squirm at that point. The odd feeling of weight that grew in your belly able to register once the taste of grass dissipated on your tongue. Yet, the scarred demi-human who’d slipped into your room to escape the spring storm simply tightened his grip on your thighs to keep you still and continued to moan.

9…

10, 11…

12.

At long last, all of the tendrils retracted from your ass and left you breathless, overstimulated, and a bowl of jello in the monster’s gentle grip. Too tired to move much, and too tired to fight when the blonde naga-esque monster shifted you so that he could coil his large, snake-like lower body around you. All you could manage to do was get comfortable with your now-swollen belly before exhaustion squished you to your bedroom floor.

[lavvythejackalope]

Links

Trigun: The Desert Spring Index

This is a Trigun Fancomic co-written by @hyperfi and myself! It may contain spoilers for various iterations of Trigun, as well as;

Gun Violence

Underaged Drinking

Mental Illness

Blood

Trauma

Depictions of children in distress

Implications of slavery

Adult themes

Chapter 1

pg1 / pg2 / pg3 / pg4 / pg5 / pg6 / pg7 / pg8 / pg9 / pg10 / pg11 / pg12 / pg13 / pg14 / pg15 / pg16 / pg17 / pg18 / pg19 / pg20 / pg21 / pg22 / pg23 / pg24 / pg25 / pg26 / pg27 / pg28 / pg29 / pg30 / pg31 / pg32 / pg33 / pg34 / pg35 / pg36 / pg37 / pg38 / pg39 / pg40 / pg41

Chapter 2

Pg42 / pg43 / pg44 / pg45 / pg46 / pg47 / pg48 / pg49 / pg50 / pg51 / pg52 / pg53 / pg54 / pg55 / pg56 / pg57 / pg58 / pg59 / pg60 / pg61 / pg62 / pg63 / pg64 / pg65 / pg66 / pg67 / pg68 / pg69 / pg70 / pg71 / pg72 / pg73 / pg74 / pg75 / pg76 / pg77 / pg78 / pg79 / pg80 / pg81

The Desert Spring is its own, alternate timeline, and should be considered wholly separate. It draws primarily on Trigun Maximum and Trigun Stampede as its sources.

Updates on Wednesday mornings as I’m able!

6/6/2025 - new page!

I use #current events for my political reposts

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[terkaterr]

6 , 10 , 14 , 15 , 17 , 18 , 22 , 28 , 29 !!!!!!!!

I am biting you. with tongue.

6. What characters captured your heart?

well you know me I've loved the polygun quartet since day one (circa february 2023).... this year I wrote fics about some other trigun characters as well, but there's been what, 4 entire fics in Milly's pov???? your honor i LOVE her dearly!!!! but at the same time, vash is still just like me fr fr (derogatory) and I think I understand him even better neow not that I tortured him some more :}

10. What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing? (already answered, copying here)

oh If We Live for sure!! it's only 7 chapters but it took sooooooo long to finish.... and it's only an interlude to a grand post-canon ww lives idea I have that I hope to write..... some day.............. I'm not a fast writer alright but I'm really glad I finally finished that one and thus was freed. for now.................

14. What were your go-to writing songs?

TECHDOG by Patricia Taxxon. yes, all 12,6 hours of it. there's a good match for a wide range of emotion so I just listen to whatever part is fitting at the moment!!! not a song, but another great band for writing trimax trigun specifically is Disparition. can't explain it, they just Get It

15. What was the hardest fic to title?

honestly, none??? idk titles just come to me cause im their most special little fishe

17. Share your favorite opening line

How much can you fit under your skin? takes the 1st place with:

The bullet has made a home beside Wolfwood’s lower rib. Nice and snug in the meat of his side. Deep. Clearly, on the way to the exit it decided it felt just right as is. Bitch better be cozy, Wolfwood thinks maliciously.

18. Share your favorite ending line

this one was much harder to pick as i'm a sucker for a good ending line.... but I chose this one from Schrödinger's Lazarus as it carries so much punch:

It feels like more of a reminder to self, but he listens, even pulls my flesh hand closer to his chest in such a sentimental gesture it makes my heart ache. It strikes me that fate cheated me into seeing two things I wasn’t supposed to today: my death and his reaction. I bite the inside of my cheek and hold my lips tight so that no promises I can’t keep may slip through.

22. What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

I use Scrivener mostly! find it really handy both for outlining my big fic ideas and for writing oneshots. also I occasionaly use gdocs if i want to go the text by some friend before posting. i don't write by hand cause it just doesn't hit the same spot... also it's much slower and I'll need to transfer all that to typed text anyway so liek. doesn't work for me

28. If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

all the beautiful beautiful people who comment on my fics I LOVE YOU FOREVER AND EVER <3!!!!! !!<3!1!!!1<3!!<3!!!! also special shoutout to my bestie @hudshem who's been and continues to be my personal yes-man

29. What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

I wanted to write and post a oneshot about ww and livio rebuilding the orphanage that would link If We Live with that au's later parts..... but unforch i barely started it....... here's to hoping I can finish it before spring

thank you frand!!!!!!! this was very fun

[og ask game link]

[fruitsoxs]

Hi I really love your writing, and I especially love the way you write angst!

May I request angst with misunderstandings or miscommunication with eventual fluff/smut featuring wolfwood and/or vash? Thank you and have a nive day!

( 。ớ ₃ờ)ھ

friendly reminder that i won't write smut for anons! but fluff is just fine !

pairing(s); wolfwood x (NB) reader warnings; a bit of angst, fighting, wolfwood is a little harsh and angry, there's a creepy person but they're dealt with fast wordcount; 1.7k notes; i have a vash version that i just can't get right. i'll eventually publish it, but for now have some wolfwood content. also this is kinda of 98 wolfwood coded

You pop open the tavern door to the outside, a spring in your step as you make your way over to the man currently leaning on the railing outside.

After rescuing a town from nasty bandits, the town decided to throw a party for your group of friends. Vash, Meryl, and Milly all seem to be enjoying the festivities inside. However, you noticed that a certain priest had excused himself outside without word. A little nervous he was going to leave, you decided to follow the man out.

He looks over at you, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He breathes in the smoke, and then lets it out before turning his body to face you. His normally goofy smile is replaced by something a bit…more sad. You don’t seem to notice his change in demeanor, too tipsy from all the free drinks the town was seemingly giving out. “Nicholas~” you sing at him, skipping forward until you stop right in front of him.

“What are you doing out here? The party is inside!” you ask him with a little grin.

He notices your state, and immediately goes tense. He takes a deep breath through his nose, then tilts his head up. “What do you want?” he seemingly snaps, obviously not in the best of moods. Your eyes widen at the immediate anger, the smile dropping from your face. You weren’t expecting him to be so…rude. Especially with how he treated you earlier after that fight. He was so worried about a little cut you got, even offered to help clean it up. It was such a nice moment…

Now his eyes are focused on anywhere but you, his muscles tense. He looks as if he’s uncomfortable to even be in your presence. He lets out another sigh when you don’t answer right away, and turns away once again. He looks out into the street with a glare you’re sure is meant for you.

Maybe spurred on by the alcohol in your system, you let out a little huff of annoyance at his attitude. “What’s your problem?” you ask, pouting slightly.

“You’re my problem.” He says simply, not even looking at you. There’s a sense of regret in the air after he says this, almost as he can’t even believe he said it himself. But he doesn’t back down. He’s not sure what’s wrong with him, but he’s angry. “And this isn’t the time or place to be talking about this.” he says dismissively.

“No- why are you suddenly so mad at me? What did I do? I thought we were doing okay…everything seemed okay earlier after-” He cuts you off with a growl, finally turning to face you again. “I said to leave it alone. Stop talking to me.” He almost demands. He takes a few steps back to make some distance between the two of you. The cigarette falls from his lips, landing on the ground. “Go away.”

Your eyes widen at the outburst. Tears begin to gather as you take a step back. You want to say more- demand more, but what can you do? Clearly he’s not in the mood to talk, and would much rather push you away. Even after the things he said earlier, even after the almost kiss you shared.

He turns away the moment he sees your tears. This isn’t the way things were supposed to go, but this isn’t where he wanted to have this conversation. This was supposed to be a celebration, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin everyone’s fun. There was no point in talking about all of this now, but he didn’t mean to hurt you. An overwhelming guilt starts to gnaw at his senses.

You look down at the ground. “Fine.” You mumble, before turning away and heading back inside the tavern. The door slams behind you. You make your way to the bar and accept a drink offered to you by one of the townspeople, immediately downing the liquid. You’re not exactly sure what it is, but it burns as it goes down.

If he doesn’t want to talk, then fine, you’ll party with everyone else. You’ll distract yourself from the overwhelming sadness in your gut, and try to have a little fun without him.

Hours pass, and the celebration has only gotten more wild. The music is louder, and the people are drunk and sloppy. Vash is absolutely out of it as he spins in circles with a grin on his face,. Milly is completely out of it, and Meryl seems to be the only person still sober enough to function. She has taken the job of waving off anybody that gets too close to Milly. You aren’t drunk, but you definitely aren’t sober as you dance around with random people.

The only other person who seems sort of sober is Wolfwood, who’s off to the side clutching onto a random drink as he watches you dance. He’s got a permanent frown on his face. While everyone else seems to be having fun, he’s definitely not. He just can’t seem to get over how he treated you earlier.

He really didn’t mean to snap. He knows you must be feeling heartbroken right now, especially after earlier. It’s just that…he can’t. He can’t stop thinking about watching you get hurt during that stupid fight with those stupid bandits. It’s not like the threat of death is new. You travel with Vash, there’s always been a risk. He knows that. Watching you get hurt today still shook him. He almost threw the fight to make sure you were okay.

Then, after he was tending your wounds he almost kissed you.

It’s become clear that his feelings for you are more than just friends. He just doesn’t know how to handle it. He’s been fighting his entire life, and he’s not going to stop any time soon. How can he ever realistically fit you into that picture without you getting hurt? It’s impossible. With him, you’re bound to run into trouble eventually.

But he…loves you.

He clenches his hand around his drink as he watches a random guy spin you around in a circle. His eyes have been fixated on you this entire time, watching to make sure you’re okay. He can tell, despite the smiles you’re giving off, that something is wrong. You’re probably still upset, and he doesn’t blame you for that at all.

He takes another sip from his and lets out a deep sigh.

Something catches his attention. Your dance partner’s hand falls a little bit too low as they lean in to whisper something in your ear. He sits forward in his seat, waiting to see how you react. When you try to push away from the stranger, Wolfwood stands up. The stranger keeps their arms around you, keeping you trapped against them.

Hell no.

He slams his drink down and walks over. He pays no mind to the people around him as he moves through the crowd, forcing people to jump out of his way. Once he’;s over next to you, he puts his hand on the stranger’s shoulder, digging his fingers into him.

“Excuse me. Is there a problem here?” he asks the stranger, a fake smile stretched across his features. The stranger looks a little annoyed at first, until he takes in the sight of the man before him. They mumble out a quiet “no.” and yank themselves out of Wolfwood’s grasp. They scurry off into the crowd, leaving you and Wolfwood alone.

You stare up at him for a second, unsure of what to say. You’re thankful for his help, but you’re still unhappy with the man. You cross your arms over your chest and look at the floor. “Thank you.” you finally say.

Wolfwood sighs and holds out a hand. “I’m…sorry…” he mumbles under his breath. You look wince as someone bumps into you. Wolfwood wraps an arm around you to help keep you steady. The people around you are still dancing, oblivious to the events that just happened. It’s a bit overwhelming, and Wolfwood can tell you’re getting upset. So, he starts to pull you away from the scene.

Despite the fact you’re still angry, you let him. You want to get away from the party for a second.

He pulls you to the back of the bar and lets his arm drop. You stare up at him in awkward silence for a second, before he sighs and repeats his words. “I’m sorry.” he says it louder this time, making sure you can hear him. “I'm sorry for snapping at you. I just…”

He looks around, running a hand through his hair. You can tell he’s getting nervous. It’s an emotion you don’t see him wear very often. It’s almost endearing to see him so…shy. He looks down into your eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I shouldn’t have said all that stuff. I do want to talk to you about things- I just needed a moment to gather my thoughts. I was never angry at you- I was …scared of my own feelings. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” He keeps his gaze locked with yours as he talks.

“Scared of what feelings?” you ask, curious to know what upset him so much.

He looks down. “I ... realized that my feelings for you are...” he trails off, stuttering slightly. “What I mean is that I...I just like you.” he finally gets it out. The sentence makes your heart start to pound. You understand now.

You reach out a hand and put it in his. “It’s okay.” you mumble softly as your fingers interlock with his. His hands are big, and a little cold. “I mean it’s not okay, but I understand. I forgive you.” You smile softly at him and pull him a bit closer.

Before he can say anything, you stand up on your top toes and press a kiss to his cheek. “We can talk about it later. I’ll be patient. But…I like you too.”

He smiles and pulls you into his arms, hugging you close. Despite the little fight from earlier, you know everything will be okay.

[shmothman]

J K L NSFW PLZ THX FWEN

I still need to watch Trigun to understand your husband but in the meantime I wanna help you continue to be insane and indulgent 🩵

Ava you’re LITERALLY my hero thank u for enabling me. Also watch Trigun.

SFW/NSFW Alphabet Prompts

(Vash/Reader)

NSFW below the cut. 18+ only.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Whatever the level of experience you see him as having, the vast majority of Vash’s sexual escapades over the past century-plus years have been solo. Most of the time, Vash is honestly too depressed to jack off much—especially during the events of canon—but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t do it; it’s a physical need for him, same as any other (and, unfortunately, he’s prone to self-denial of all of his physical and emotional needs when he’s really down). Still, he sees people he thinks are attractive, and sometimes, he allows himself to want. Carefully, doing his best not to get too hung up on emotion—he knows he can’t have the love that he so badly yearns for—he thinks of them that night, lets himself imagine the hands of the kind bartender, or the smile of the stable hand, dips his fingers between his legs and jolts—it’s been a while, and he’s so sensitive. Even when he tries to draw it out, he can’t last long, and there are usually tears pricking at his eyes by the time that he comes, sticky and tired and, if he’s being honest, sad.

When he meets you though, everything changes. Not only does his sex drive spike wildly (which I’ll save for D), but his fantasies are in overdrive, like he’s making up for over a century of lost time. He just can’t find relief, you wind him up like a coiled spring with the most innocent brush of your hand against his, and he replays it a thousand times that night in his room, muffling himself with a pillow as he strokes himself—slow at first, but losing composure quickly. What he could once emotionally distance himself from he finds himself far too enmeshed in now: he can’t touch himself without imagining your voice saying I love you; saying good boy, and come for me. He imagines your hands, your mouth; imagines himself inside you and it’s too much, always too much—your name on his lips as he falls apart. Vash wants more than he’s ever wanted, and he’s convinced that he can’t allow himself to have it. So this—his fantasies, the things he does as soon as he’s alone—is all he’s going to get.

Until you prove otherwise, of course.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

HO BOY YES. What kinks DOESN’T he have.

Vash’s number one kink is True Love, your pleasure being enough to get him surprisingly close, devoting everything he has to making sure you’re never left wanting. However he can please you, he will; whatever you ask for, he’ll provide. He’s singleminded in his purpose: he simply wants to learn your body as well as he knows his own—perhaps even better—just so he can wring every possible ounce of pleasure from you, every time. He wants to hold your hands as he thrusts into you, wants to mold himself to your body and be one with you in every possible way. He loves you, and that’s the thing that riles him up most of all.

This kink of his is, of course, followed very closely by praise of any kind. Please call him your good boy, tell him how pretty he is, he’s dying; tell him he’s doing so well for you, whether he’s giving or taking, and he’ll combust. And if you praise him for his kindness? His conviction? If you call him amazing and incredible and wonderful? It’s the sweetest validation he can receive—you’re his everything: the kindest, most wonderful person he’s ever met, so if you think he’s good, then there must be a truth to it, right? Puppyplay stems from this, too: he wants to obey you, be good for you, so that you’ll say it to him—the collar’s just a bonus to remind himself that he’s yours.

He also really likes being tied up and teased, edged and denied—well, likes may not be the right word; it’s sweet torture, to have you bring him so close and not let him have it, again and again until he’s sobbing and begging and pleading, binding him and not even letting him touch you. But the buildup is too good, the catharsis in it, the way you so gently wipe his tears and tell him just a little longer, you’ll let him have what he wants soon. He’d let you keep him on that precipice forever, if you wanted to; let you tease him until he can’t think of anything but how much he needs to come, until he can’t think of anything at all. He loves the edge just as much as he loves the release, and he loves the glint of mischief in your eyes most of all; the predatory promise of your smile. Overstimulation goes hand and hand with it all, the dangerous pleasure of I’ll let you come, but then you’re going to keep coming for me until you can’t anymore. It makes him sob and writhe and gasp for air, but oh, it’s such a wonderful sort of too much. By the end of it, he’ll be begging you to stop—though of course he knows he just has to say one little word and you’ll stop immediately.

He isn’t human, and just for fun, I give him a better sense of smell than most: your scent is intoxicating to him, and he’ll breathe you in (discreetly) at every chance he gets. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: vash the stampede sniffs panties. He also likes goofy roleplay: pretending you’ve captured him, or he’s captured you, or you’re meeting for the first time at a seedy bar—though he can’t keep himself from voicing how much he loves you, so staying in character becomes difficult the second that pleasure is involved. He tends toward voyeurism, too—he likes to watch you, especially when you call his name and talk to him, tease him for enjoying the view (and there’s a denial in this, too: he wants so badly to touch you, to be the one brining you all that pleasure). Really, he’s into whatever you’re into, however you want him to touch you: you want to be blindfolded? Tied up? Edged? Tickled? Yes, absolutely, he’s already hard. And, legally, I can’t ignore his canon (in blr) foot fetish. He’ll try to be sly about it but… the man wants to touch ‘em. Sue him. Finally, although it may be controversial, and it’s not my thing so I’m not gonna be the one to explore this further… I think he’d be kinda into cucking.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Call him a bit vanilla, but he prefers your bed. Especially if you live together, have a home to return to that’s yours—he will carry you there so proudly and happily every single night, and there’s truly no place he’d rather be. Until then, though, your room at the inn, or wherever you’re staying, is perfect for him—it’s just the two of you, and he likes being able to let go and be noisy, to lay you down and really look at you and take things slow.

This isn’t to say he won’t fuck you wherever you want him to, though—couch, floor, against the wall, bent over the table, outside under the stars in your sleeping bag�� even in a closet, if need be. If you get him riled up enough, he’ll take you just about anywhere (though he isn’t much for public or semi-public sex, and he’d much prefer to drag you somewhere more private).

[novasintheroom]

Prince!Vash AU. Thunderstorm in the dead of night means one spouse seeking out the other to feel safe.

Thank you for sending this in, anon! I appreciate it!!

--

“Vash…”

“…”

“Vash…”

“Hm…?”

“Vash, can I…?”

He doesn’t catch the end of your sentence, too drowsy from sleep. He blinks his eyes open in the gloom, registering the sound of rain and thunder booming overhead for a moment. Ah, the storm season. He’d forgotten it was coming.

Where are you?

Vash’s brain is slowly catching up. He heard your voice. Here. In his room. Had he been dreaming? He’s been having more dreams about you, lately. Perhaps that’s all it was – a waking dream. Vash sighs and rolls over, toward the door between your rooms.

It’s open.

And you’re standing next to his bed.

“Can I sleep with you?” you whisper.

That wakes him up.

Vash sits up in bed, looking at your shadowed form. You’re hunched, almost like a scolded child. He can hear you cracking your knuckles in the dark – a nervous tick you have.

You’re here. In his room.

You’ve finally crossed the line between rooms.

He says your name like a question. “What are you doing here?” Such a silly question for a husband to ask his wife, but…his heart skips beats. Is this it? Is this when you’ll…?

You clear your throat and flinch when another burst of thunder roars overhead. “The storm…it woke me, and I…I’ve always had a fear of them, so I was wondering if I could sleep. Here…Tonight.”

He pauses. Sleep? Here? The rain torrents on the roof overhead; he can hear the sheets of water even through the thick stonework. A flash of lightning bursts into the room, and for a moment, your terrified face is lit in full stark white. His mind finally catches up to what you’re asking.

Ah. That explains it.

Vash quashes any kind of disappointment that springs up from the truth and nods emphatically. “Yeah, of course!” He opens up his bed sheets like you’ll crawl in right there with him.

But you don’t. You hurry to the other side and lift the blankets, scurrying underneath. He feels the brush of your bare legs against his as you adjust yourself, and goosebumps trail all over his body. You settle. The room goes quiet but for the rain.

If he listens hard enough, he can hear your breathing. And he can’t stop the question bubbling up, now awake. “You’ve never liked storms?”

You shift your head to look at him in the gloom. “No. I hate them. It’s the thunder.” On cue, thunder breaks overhead, and you hunch further into the covers. “It always scares me awake, and I fear someone is in my room when I do. So I stay up all night looking at every shadow.”

He hums. His eyes feel heavy, but this is new information. He pursues it further. “Who would you go to when you were at home?”

“My siblings would usually come to me for comfort. I never…had to seek anyone out but for when I was a little girl.” You scooch further into bed, arm brushing his. You don’t pull away. “I’m sorry. I know I must be brave, but – “

“Who said that? I didn’t.” Vash reaches out and takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. Even now, he can feel the tremors shaking your body, the bed. “I’m scared of lots of things, and I think that’s okay.”

He feels your eyes on him again. “What are you scared of?”

Vash yawns, then clears his throat. “Don’t laugh. But I hate bananas.”

You laugh. “What?”

He shakes your arm in reprimand and continues. “I don’t know what it is, but ever since I was a kid, I’ve been terrified of them. Their shape, their texture…eugh.” He shivers. Your laughter, though, is worth it.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing!” You giggle. “I just thought you didn’t like fruit at banquets!”

“I love fruit! I’m very fruity!” He realizes his mistake and shakes your arm again when you snort. “Shut up. You know what I mean.” The thunder rolls overhead, and you go quiet. He strokes his thumb along your hand and squeezes. “Hey, it’s okay. Nothing’s gonna get you.”

“I know,” you murmur. Then, slowly, as if waiting for him to reject you, you turn to him and wrap your arms around his torso. When he in turn wraps his own arms around you, you both settle into the embrace and warmth. Vash hadn’t realized how cold it was in his room ‘til then.

Minutes pass by like this. Vash is fully awake now, heart pounding. This…this is nice. This is really nice. Even if his arm is falling asleep under your head, he isn’t going to move. Nope. This is what he’s wanted for a while, now. He rubs a hand along your back, slow and methodical. He teases the skin at the base of your neck with tickles. Your breath evens out, and, eventually, you fall asleep.

Vash stays awake longer than he intends. He just can’t get over the feel of you this near. You’re warm. Soft. Your hair smells good – a day or two from washing, but good nonetheless. He thumbs at the fabric of your nightgown. It’s well-worn; a favorite of yours.

“Would you mind if we do this more often?” He asks openly, knowing you were too far gone to answer. “I really enjoy it…”

He falls asleep.

-~-

A gold morning wakes you slowly. Its beams shine through the cracks in the shutters and window panes. The storm has passed, and with it, the night.

You feel breath on your forehead. Such a strange place to feel it. You reach a hand up to brush at your bangs, only to feel toned muscle beneath your fingers first. What…?

Your eyes creak open. You stare at a white shirt, the chest it hides rising quietly. The night comes back to you, and you look up at your husband.

His eyes are closed, and he lets out small snores.

You didn’t know he snored.

You don’t know a lot of things about him. Much less than you would like. But…you reach up and move his bed-tangled hair from his face, he is kind, and good, and unfairly handsome. And isn’t that what matters most? You could have gotten a lot less lucky being married off to someone else.

But that’s the thing isn’t it? He is more than kind and good and handsome. He is loyal, and quite funny, and sociable, and…and he’s afraid of bananas!

That startles a laugh out of you, and it stirs Vash in his sleep. You put your fingers to your mouth and watch with guilt as Vash’s blues open and blearily look at you. “Wha…” he says, clearing his throat, “Wha’s so funny…?”

Your eyes crinkle, and you can’t help but brush his face now, laughing openly. “Just…you have a bit of drool, coming out here.”

Vash groans and rolls away, wiping at his face. You continue to laugh. Today is already going to be a great day.

[epilvgue]

「𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔤 𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔤!」- The deep bags under Vash's eyes had been darkening for a long while now.

Maybe he should ask for help, but that was far easier suggested than followed through on. He'd been trying to just ignore the hallucination, trying to block them out as he usually did.

He couldn't seem to sleep anymore. It was difficult to concentrate.

A night time walk was probably for the best. The park was dead silent aside from the spring crickets. The moonlight was patchy through the trees that canopied the walking path and the only other light source were the streetlamps... but those were flickering in the wake of the energy the Plant was unknowingly giving off.

It would be better if it weren't for the feathers slowly blooming across his cheek and the whispering in his ear.

There there was the distinct voice of Wolfwood right inside his head: "Heads up, needle-noggin. He's here."

Vash's formerly somewhat unfocused gaze sharpened. Before his could quite register what he was doing and that it might not even be what he thought, he'd drawn his long colt and aimed. Not firing, but he had a firm grip on the trigger. He was already starting to sweat, anticipating Knives wandering out... again.

@bluestringpuppeteer || Erudite Challenge Act I

[somereaderinblue]

It's already Day 6 of Trigun Fanfiction Appreciation Week. I don't want any regrets so here goes: I give you a VW mpreg rec list. If this isn't your cup of tea, that's fine. If it is:

what I am trying to cultivate… by Altered-Havoc (Altered_Karma)

100/10, I've lost count on how many times I reread this. Both of them have suffered & after everything, they finally get a soft epilogue. Angst? Who dat? This is 80% comfort to me.

Surprise, Wolfwood! It's A Bouncing Baby Plant! by @attackofthezee, rated T

WW returns from the dead & there's a surprise waiting for him. 3 guesses as to what it is.

Until The End by squishycake, rated E

“Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” – Richard Siken A bittersweet fic wherein an aging WW makes peace with his mortality but not before Vash two new lives.

Innocent Souls by NaughtyJacks (JackalJamboree), rated T

In a quiet moment, Vash asks WW to bless the two blessings he carries. Vash knows WW is still keeping secrets from him, but he also knows that he's decided to choose Vash & his kids over them. And that only makes him love him more.

o' light, won't you shine (upon souls of youth) by seventhgiver (fifthgiver), rated T

Another bittersweet fic wherein WW still faces his canon death, but Meryl & Milly are there to support Vash through thick & thin. There's angst, but it really does have a happy ending.

dear star and spring bud, my preachers by elemmacil, rated T

Post-canon AU where VW have a child. Does a great job at depicting their awe over the fact that they were allowed to make this dream their reailty.

I've Taken to Calling Him Nico by mak000000, rated G

Short one-shot wherein Vash tells WW that the little boy he assumed to be Lina's baby brother is in fact someone's kid. 3 guesses as to who's the father.

i’d give you the sun (i’d give you the sun) by justotherdays, rated M

Set post-Trimax, full of nothing but tenderness & a much deserved happy ending.

This is not humanity's song, this is ours by O_ToJoy, rated M & T

An AU where Knives's victory is short-live & WW has to pick up the pieces, one of said pieces being Nikolai. He's 16 years too late, but that won't stop him from trying.

Talk About Timing by lucifergooseifer (Lucifergooseifer), rated M

A small detour causes everything to NOT go according to plan. BUT! Nothing (too) bad happens, I swear.

A Black Angel at Your Side by hazeltea (madlovescience), rated E

I would've listed this at the top but then I read it, cried, & slapped it here. I want to devour this but also throw up. On a side note, I like how this fic depicts Livio's still somewhat religious view on Plants & how said view is deeply embedded in NML's culture, which causes conflict with the Earth Federation. There's also a Meryl POV chapter where she justifiably remains wary of Livio/Razlo, which really individualizes her. Also has fanart.

Flower Dew, Deep Waters, Desert Thirst & Use My Heart by cloudbureiku, rated E & M

Aside from smut, there's also tender caring & non-sexual intimacy, all of which are three of many reasons why VW is our bread & butter.

Lavender by @vaporame

Gotta love it when Plant pregnancy involves markings & telepathic bonds. Totally makes breaking the news to your s/o less nerve-wracking. Their other VW works are also recommended.

Modern AUs

To Build a Home by hielhue, rated G

Everyone is alive & happy, and WW narrates how he met Vash, fell in love & started a family.

cause everything else is a substitute for your love by @sascake, rated M

VW have a bad history when it comes to using protection despite one of them ironically owning a sex shop. They're not perfect but they make it work.

little moment verse by justotherdays, rated G & M

VW's journey as parents. In the second fic in the series, the author isn't afraid to write how some parents, no matter how much they love their child, still inevitably struggle. Which is why it's important to have support.

devil on your shoulder (or the angel laying on your tummy) & paint the town red by cloudbureiku, not rated & G

The former guest stars the one & only Kuroneko while the latter shows us why it really isn't advisable for heavily pregnant parents to sit on the floor.

[whuspdoodle]

The 5 Times They Kissed.

synopsis: a drabble of 5 times Meryl kissed Vash. this is something I wrote for a writing partner but liked it so much, I decided to post it here.

warnings: sfw, mentions of blood, gun shot wound mentions, cryptid vash because come on, heavily implied apocalypse au, mentions of unnatural body stretching.

the first time was . . .

tough to reach the highest shelves when you've been granted the height of a rodent . Meryl struggles , as always , to reach the very supplied that are most crucial to the group's survival .

what a shitshow .

she could climb , maybe break an ankle or two on the way . but a presence disturbs those disquiet thoughts , a flash of a smile , a shimmer of eyes . before she can speak , react , do anything . . . there is a large , flat surface propping her up underneath her backside . a few cracks of bones , a stretch of skin , and Vash is pulling Meryl up to the highest shelf on an arm that is far too long to be human . and yet , there's no hesitation as she grabs the supplies , drops them on the ground and tells her companion to lower her down .

but before he can let her drop , her hands gently place on each cheek of his face , thumbs disturbing the glasses that are hiding those hypnotizing luminescent eyes . she leans in , and plants a kiss to the tip of his nose . " thanks , big guy . " she praises , and he's red , his smile turned wobbly , and his sounds akin to a happy chirping . he looked so silly , so proud .

and that's just so Vash .

the second time was . . .

she scrambles to the body laying left , unmoving in the rubble . she's frantic as she scatters about the debris , and the more she does so , to more of him she sees . there's liquid like blood , yet not quite the color . his limbs seem broken , battered . and those extraordinary eyes are closed , unresponsive . Meryl wastes no time .

there's so much urgency in the way she keeps pushing on his chest , to elicit any form of response . yet Vash remains unmoving , and Meryl grows desperate . her body moves , her fingers shaking and clumsy part his lips so she may crush her own on them . she tries . god , she tries to breathe life into the man .

and as soon as she does , the body jolts . springs to life . Vash quickly sits up , and Meryl ends up yelping in surprise as she is being scooped into his arms . it's so unreal , how unaffected by it all he seemed . like he wasn't just one foot in the grave .

instead , he leans his forehead against her , flashes her a reassuring smile , and thanks her . despite not even needing her help , he thanks her .

and that's just so Vash .

the third time was . . .

nobody would really dare to get closer than it was necessary to the strange creature that was Vash . yet when Meryl saw his bionic arm fidget , twitch and flex uncomfortably , she had to ask about it . had to be told it needed maintenance .

had to offer to do just that .

" do you know how ? " he'd ask . " you'll show me . " she'd say . and so he did . and so they did .

it took some practice , but Meryl knew to learn quick . she made sure to avoid the parts that Vash mentioned caused discomfort , and simply focused on the ones that needed to be looked into .

she always wondered how Vash lost that arm . he always seemed so unbreakable to her . invincible . to think something did this damage to him was . . .

fingers began to wander , as gentle blues raked over the expanse of metal . soon did her hands grasp around his own . she felt the cool texture of it , her curious digits soon enveloping his own . they played with his fingertips , smoothing skin over the machine - like nails carved into them .

she couldn't have been thinking when she did this . not when she brought his hand so close to her lips . not when she allowed the same lips to gently brush against the surface of his prosthetic knuckles . not when she kissed them , audible , surprised at how nice it felt .

more chirping she could hear coming from her inhuman companion , and when her eyes turned towards him , he had his signature wobbly smile plastered to his face . his cheeks were as red as his coat , and his eyes tried so hard to hide behind those orange shades , but she could see them . and she could see them seeking her out constantly . and Meryl huffed out a laugh , a chuckle . he was so endearing .

and that's just so Vash .

the fourth time was . . .

well . . . she wasn't really careful during that last shootout . in the end , someone was ought to be the mark . but of all the tall , lanky and humongous people she travels with , the one person who's the hardest to ever get spotted gets shot ? give her a break .

everyone was far too busy to help her with that wound , and she knew that damn well . but patching up a bullet wound she can barely reach was . . . problematic .

the only thing that told her Vash was already by her side , was the sudden change in the air . imagine , how terrifying this man must be to the people who don't know what he's like ? standing there , looming over her like a tower - cast shadow . but she knew him , didn't she ? and instead of fear , there was calm . and instead of a knit of her brows , there was a gentle smile .

he wanted to help , she knew he did . she did her best to guide him , show him where the skin and charred flesh needed his attention the most . he was so patient with her , yet the quiver of his hands betrayed that smile he always wore . she must have made him worry . when her body hit the ground from that shot's impact , she thought she heard something . like a screech , followed by a snarl .

but she wouldn't look into it . not now , not ever .

her entire body jolts to life as she can feel something wet and sticky against her shoulder blade . shivers erupt across her spine , shaking her every nerve as she watches past her shoulder as Vash's ridiculously long tongue covers up her would in its saliva . she is about ready to scream , when all of a sudden she realizes . . . the pain is gone . it's gone , and she cannot shake the feeling Vash was just trying to help the only way he knew he could .

her anger subsides , replaced with something else . something . . . warmer .

and she thanks him , turning around to face him , she thanks him . the way she knows how . Meryl leans in , her tongue darting out . and it drags , a gentle trail up the length of Vash's cheek . and he does the same , his ridiculously massive tongue leaving much more saliva in his wake . he makes her laugh , oh so easily .

and that's just so Vash .

the fifth time was . . .

the jukebox was rather quiet , worn out and probably missing a part or two . but it was loud enough , for Meryl to tap her foot to the song ' Limitless ' by Richard Marx . and it seemed that managed to catch the attention of this one blonde , watching Meryl as she began to sway , move her body in tandem to the slightly muffled music .

she doesn't know when it was that her hands had joined with Vash's , doesn't remember . all she knows is the rhythm of the beat , the clumsy steps , and laughter that filled the otherwise empty room .

the ground is swept from under her feet all of a sudden , and she is held up so gently by hands large enough to encompass her body twice if they wanted to . there is chirping , there's a flash of this ridiculous smile . and Meryl moves on her own , as her lips collide against her dancing partner's . he's soft , and careful , and scared and so , so gentle .

but he doesn't pull away . he closes the gap further , his forehead pressed against Meryl's as his embrace envelops her in so much warmth , so much love .

love . yes . she loves him . dearly , unconditionally . she wants to show this man just how little she cares about their differences , and how much she wants to focus on what they have in common instead . to make him feel that he belongs .

and that's just so Meryl .

and that's the end! hope you guys liked it, it was pretty short but considering I haven't posted in a while I figured it's better than nothing 😅

reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[revenantghost]

What fics have you been reading recently?

Not as many as I'd like between bookclub and finally having access to the Tristamp dub! I do try to remember (and often forget) to bookmark my favs on AO3, but tonight's lineup has been really fun so let me grab them for you:

kinder, gentler by skittidyne (VW, WIP, been my favorite WIP since Tristamp was airing, can't recommend enough)

Vash goes through another life. He's done it enough to be pretty good at it, these days. They're getting easier, even if "easier" means a string of murders while trying to make friends anew. Not his usual bullet-ridden trouble, but this is meant to be a kinder, gentler life, after all.

Tomaship by museq (gen, one-shot, a fun little read)

A cute little oneshot where horse girl, teenage Vash learns how to ride a thomas with Brad.

two eggs, over easy by AllegedlyAnnie (VW, WIP, first chapter was posted of this not too long ago, I love the author's work, and this is SO GODDAMN FUNNY, I can't wait for more)

I (30M) keep getting into fights with a cook at Waffle House. --- "Uh, hey, 'scuse me?" Nick calls out toward the kitchen. "Sorry?" the cook asks. He comes over, and Nick gets a good look at spiky blonde hair and fathomless blue eyes framed by lashes like clock springs. "Was there something wrong?" And okay. So Nick might have a thing for a tall blonde with a dancer's figure. A man likes what he likes. With an effort he usually reserves for life-and-death scenarios, he forces himself to smile and says, "Is this your first day?" "No? Why do you ask?" "I asked for my eggs over easy." The cook glances at Nick's table, now holding six different eggs cooked three different, incorrect ways, and Nick can see in his eyes the exact moment he decides the next thing he'll say. His brow furrows into a faux quizzical expression. "I don't see the problem," he answers.

Fenrir by eshtaresht (gen but V&W-centric, one-shot, this was a very beautifully worded and created piece, I do love me a bit of whump)

He opens his mouth slowly, making a show of his sharp canines. Just so they’re clear on that. Without a word, Vash puts his arm inside the toothy trap. Pushes it deep, back to the very molars, making him breath through the nose to avoid gagging. Belts taste of gunpowder and sand. His tongue stumbles on a metal buckle, but his teeth feel only the satisfying give of worn leather. And, if he presses deeper, skin. ______________ or, Wolfwood goes a bit too feral and gets telepathically poetry blasted

[greetingfromthedead]

C73: Last Night

For more information on the series (tags, CW, etc) click the banner!

Series Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Chapter: 73/84

Words: 2.4k

Warning: There's no real plot here, it's just smut. Skip if you want.

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"Well? Are you just going to stand there?" you pull the blanket from your knees so he can clearly see your bent and spread legs, but you keep the rest covered by the blanket between them.

Vash springs back to life, pulling off his belt and throwing it aside before undoing his pants, pushing off his boots and socks. He stands in his underwear, watching over you.

"What if I have requests?" He has definitely found his footing again, an edge to his voice as his eyes burn up.

"I will fill your every desire, but first you will have to strip down completely." you smile wickedly as you gaze into his eyes.

You keep looking up even as he pushes down his underwear, only after he straightens up again do you look down to measure him and then look back.

"Spread your legs wider for me." You hear his request as he comes closer and lowers himself down. You do as he asks, your bent legs taking a wider stance.

"Good girl." His voice is husky as he touches your leg, placing kisses on the inside of your thigh, starting from the knee and moving closer to your warm and wet core. His hands stroke your skin, moving up until they pull away the blanket, letting him place his lips in the center as his hands push your thighs even further apart. His tongue explores the folds and tastes your arousal.

"Oh, fuck..." you moan as your head already falls back. He knows you well, he has his own little tricks he uses on you, every millimeter is measured and known. He could have you shaking uncontrollably within a minute, but that really isn't his style. He carefully inches you closer to your edge, waiting until your whole back is arched and moans escape your mouth. His fingers move into your cavity, pressing against your walls, giving you a whole different stimulus to focus on as he pulls his lips back.

"You like this, love?" His voice is quiet as he looks up from between your legs.

"You know-ooooh-I do.... ooh... ohhh," your moans getting louder and longer as his fingers touch you in every way that makes you gush. "Oh, Vash..."

"Your voice really is music, baby," he says, placing a few kisses on the inside of your thigh again. "So what now, darling?"

"Ah, fuck!" He keeps you hovering on the edge, the inferno burning in your core, waiting to release all the tension. "God, you make me feel soo.. ah, so good... Get me there."

"Where?" his kisses getting closer to his fingers again.

"Make me come, Red, oooh." you can't arch any further, your legs spread as wide as they go. "Please!"

His tongue goes back to the swollen bundle of nerves, his digits still pleasuring you from the inside, and it only takes him a few pressured and skillful licks to have you reaching your limits. He feels you contract against his skin, your lungs letting out a loud moan sounding like his name. The mess you have already made amuses him as he gives you a few more teasing touches and feels you twitch under his fingers.

"You really are a demon." You breathe heavily, your head still falling backwards.

He ignores your comment as he moves up your body, leaving sloppy wet kisses on your stomach and breasts to your neck until your back is pressed onto the mattress. Vash reaches over to turn off the radio, conveying the latest news.

"I only want to hear you," his lips say by your ear, and you feel him against you, his tip touching your wetness. You try reaching out for it, but now it's Vash taking your hands and pinning them both with his prosthetic above your head. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, and it takes you by surprise.

His other hand moves down to run his tip between your folds before pressing it against your opening. Your breathing is still fast as you wait with anticipation. You see the smirk on his lips as he slowly sinks himself into you. He starts off slow, but the last of him nearly slams into you. A moan escapes you as you adjust to his girth, and he pulls away just a little bit, but he doesn't start moving like you expected.

"Please..." You try reaching his lips with yours, but he denies you. "I want more..."

Your hips try to get the stimulation you're looking for, but you're too pinned under him, barely able to move along his length. Dissatisfied noises escape you, as even rolling your hips doesn't get you much closer.

"Please... give me more..." You bite your lip. "This was my idea... How did I end up as the one being teased?"

"So whiny..." He smiles. "What do you want?"

He bites your ear, and you let out a slight yelp.

"Fuck me!" you nearly growl by his ear. This gets his hips moving again, pulling almost all the way out, and you feel every vein and pump of his tease your insides. He only gets a few calm thrusts in before he sets a frantic tempo.

"You're so tight and warm," he whispers into your ear. "So wet."

You feel him pounding deep into you, the pleasure tingling up your stomach. You are completely at his mercy as he pins you under him, your hands tightly between his and the ground. Your legs are hovering in the air above him. Your moans sound out together. He quickly has you arching from pleasure again, your body already looking for the last push that he won't give you yet. You know your insides are dripping for him, the arousal and pleasure make you go feral. The fire burning in you is driving him insane just as much as the one in him affects you. You feel his overwhelming pleasure as he pulls nearly completely out, only to dive as deep as before. His whole length is trying to fit into you, pushing against you with every thrust. You clench up a bit and immediately feel his excitement grow further.

All you can think about is him, his rough body against your skin, the way his lips feel, his breath, his voice, his moans. The way he calls out your name due to the pleasure fills you with butterflies even now. The night would be filled with colors if they burst out of your chest. Vash makes you feel things you previously thought were impossible. The whole world feels vibrant, painted in colors of red, and orange, and yellow, like your desire for him.

He lets go of your hands and pushes up into a kneeling position. He catches your legs and pushes them against your chest, you're flat on the ground again. He uses his prosthetic to pin down both of your legs, their closeness making you even tighter. He might be good at keeping you on the verge, but chasing his own climax is a different story. The arousal has been filling his mind since the moment he noticed your naked body. Seeing you squirming because of the overwhelming pleasure he brings forth does unspeakable things to him, and his fingers find your clit again as he keeps pushing deep into you. Your hands grab onto the sheets as he gives you the last little push and makes you come hard around him as you scream his name into the desolate night. Your tightly clenched walls spell the end of this round for him too, as he fills your insides with a few more slow thrusts. His brow is sweaty as both of you come down from your high.

He releases the pressure on your legs and leans them against his shoulders as he leans back. He pushes his sweaty hair out of his face as he still catches his breath. Your insides tingle, and you move your grabby hands onto your breasts, giving them a squeeze as you calm down a bit. The ease is only physical, your desire still burns in your soul, and so does his. His hands run up and down your legs as he looks into your eyes.

"You're beautiful, this look suits you," he says over his panting and leans closer, your legs sliding down his sides again. He comes close enough to kiss you, and you feel him move, still inside you. His lips lock with yours, hungry yet soft.

"I love you," you whisper through the kiss as best you can as your nails move onto his back.

His kisses move to your neck as he talks through his nips and licks.

"I could never get enough of you. You're mine... I'm yours..." His voice is low, but loud enough for you to hear.

It makes you clench around him again, and you feel your mixed releases flow down your crack. His words arouse you further. You know you feel the same, but hearing it out of his mouth does something else.

"I love your blush. The rosy tone... the heat of your skin." His kisses move down your body, making his lower half pull away until you're left yearning for him to fill you again. It feels wrong, like you're missing a piece of yourself. His hands feel your body, and he leaves you tingling all over.

"Shouldn't it be my turn now?" you look at him as his lips touch your belly button and his hands track along your hips.

"No, you said you would fill my every desire." His fingers touch the ample wetness between your thighs. His answer is so resolute that it leaves no room for arguments.

"Again... this was my idea, and you choose to tease me instead..." you enjoy his touch as his fingers press lightly into your skin.

"Alright... I'll let you, but only if you turn around for a bit." His eyes look dangerously sharp in the dim light of the gas burner. "On your hands and knees."

"I wanna hear you beg." you push yourself onto your elbows again to look at him.

"You're not in a position to make demands," he says, slightly amused as he pushes two fingers into your cavity.

"Ah, fuck!" He takes you by surprise. "Dammit... when did you get like this?"

You may be complaining, but in reality, this makes you very hot and bothered. You lift your leg over him, the fingers slipping out again, as you turn onto your stomach and support your body up. You're about to turn toward him, thinking you know what he had in mind, when he slaps your ass.

"No need to move. This is good... Actually..." you look over your shoulder to see him sit down, and he beckons you closer. You comply, slowly and teasingly moving to his side, your lips begging for a kiss as you're close enough.

He smiles a crooked smile as he kisses you on the lips, his hand closest to you stroking over your back. His lips part, and you're ready for more, but his hand presses down and guides you to lay on his lap, his hand giving another spank before sliding in between your legs again.

"You're mean!" you moan with your ass up, "In the best way possible..."

"Open your legs," he says as he strokes up and down your crack and spreads your cheeks.

As soon as your knees part, his other hand moves under your body to find your clit, his fingers glide effortlessly over it due to the slick, and it already starts to feel good. He strokes your parts, palm against your swollen bits. Your deep breaths quickly turn into moans and whines. His free hand keeps you in place as you start to squirm. He watches your body twist from the pleasure, and his hand that kept you where you are moves, the fingers slide into your slit, moving roughly and pushing you further, but not far enough.

"Aaaaah!" you scream out as you squirm to his touch. He pulls out his fingers, only leaving his other hand stroking against your clit. You feel his fingers move slightly up and draw a circle against the back entrance, but you're so consumed by the pleasure that you barely notice it.

"Let me fuck you!" you pant out as your fingers grab onto the blanket.

"Not yet. Come first." you hear the amusement in his voice, he is clearly enjoying this, your helplessness contrasting with your headstrong nature.

"Make me!" you shout desperately as he keeps you on the verge. "Give me more!"

He listens to your plea as his finger glides into your lubed ass and makes you gasp. He has been there before, but not in quite such a position. The hand on your clit presses down harder as he fingers both your holes, and it doesn't take half a minute for you to be screaming his name into the night with your legs uselessly twisting.

"Oh..." you press out between the panting, "I've had it with your unpunished teasing. Now it's my turn."

"You can't even stand," he says, putting one hand on your shaking thigh.

"I don't need to." you push up and grab hold of his shoulder. You roughly press him onto his back before climbing on. You see him rock hard again and, for a moment, consider your options, but you have been pushed too far, your mind clouded by the desire and just how well he knows you. He's an excellent lover, always paying attention and learning your every quirk.

You pull up pinning his member between your bodies and starting to grind on it. Your texture quickly starts to pull deep breaths out of him. His hands hold on to your legs as you move up and down the length of him.

"Iris..." His eyes are closed as he enjoys you. "I won't last like this..."

"Don't worry, Red, I will make you last." Your hands glide over his chest. "Look at me. I want to see your pretty eyes."

You keep going, looking into his blue eyes, till you feel his desperation reach its limits. Only then do you change things up and sink him in, taking his length and rolling your hips, giving him different, lighter stimulation. Your gentleness only lasts long enough to let him slightly cool off, and then it is replaced by you riding him like a wild tomas, making sure to edge him more than once before letting him empty himself into you again. His load dripping down the lower halves of both of you.

For more information and chapters, check out the MASTERLIST.

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