Na-t0 - 【な-と】

𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳

Nicholas D. Wolfwood x reader (fem)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would God be able to truly forgive such an act?

"A-Amen."

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

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

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

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

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

“Divine forgiveness, what a bunch of shit.”

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

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

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

“F-Father Nicholas...?”

𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳

Nicholas D. Wolfwood x reader (fem)

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

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

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Confessions

Vash x Reader tags: nsfw, plant-vash biology, female reader, smut, feelings.

// sorry for any mistakes, i’m sleep deprived lmao //

The first time that you saw Vash, you assumed he would be a passing thing, a person who would take up too much space in your mind before fading away like everyone else. That’s how it usually goes, anyway.

Funny, you think, that you’re so incredibly close to him now. The fact that the two of you happened to meet in a tavern the same night you saw him wandering through town and you helped him escape a gunfight, well, that surely cemented the fact that you would follow him practically anywhere.

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𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳

Nicholas D. Wolfwood x reader (fem)

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

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

Seguir leyendo

Under the Covers

An Intimate & Sleepy Morning Sex Oneshot ft. Vash x f!Reader (NSFW)

18+ Only !Minors DNI!

♡Pairing:♡ Vash x f!Reader

♡Summary:♡ As morning dawns, you and Vash share a quiet and intimate moment under the covers in your hotel room.

♡Content:♡ fluff & smut, established relationship, PWP-porn without plot, cuddling, intimacy, longing/yearning, hotel sex, sleepy sex, frottage, vaginal sex, teasing, creampie, no use of y/n

♡Word Count:♡ 2'100+

{AO3 Link}

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵　　‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Warm. Your body is enveloped in a blanket of comforting warmth. It’s such a cathartic feeling, a release from the tensions and tribulations of the previous day.  

You breathe in, and then release a soft breath as you open your eyes. The first thing you see in the dim morning light is Vash’s face, resting just a few inches away from your own. Vash’s head is laid down at the other end of your pillow, and his blonde hair is sprawled against the fabric in an unkept mess. Vash’s eyes are closed, and his mouth is lax. He’s still sleeping soundly.

You blink, and then reach up to rub your eyes in an attempt to try and clear your brain of its morning fog, but unfortunately, you’re not entirely successful. Luckily though, you do have just enough brain power to process where you are, and how you got there. You and Vash are laying naked together under the coarse and tattered blankets of the double bed you had rented last night.

The hotel room that you are staying in is old, drafty, and ill maintained. But it was cheap, which made you and Vash jump on the opportunity to take it. 

Sadly, being cheap does have its drawbacks. You shudder when you recall walking into the cold and dank room the night before. You and Vash had stood at the door’s threshold, looking into the wretched space with helpless despair. Holes in the walls, dusty curtains, torn blankets, and the corner of the ceiling leaked. At least the bed looked semi usable. 

Normally, you would have gone down to demand another room or find another hotel, but you and Vash suffered from a bone deep exhaustion which made you significantly less picky that night.

After settling in, you had both gotten ready for bed. But as you two undressed, the chill in the room was so unbearable that you could hardly stand it. You and Vash had disregarded your clothes in a hurry, and then took shelter under the worn wool covers that had probably been around since the Great Fall. 

You both had cuddled together close with the express intention of keeping warm and getting a good night’s sleep. But then those cuddles led to kisses, which then led to groping and grinding, which then eventually culminated  into various rounds of passionate lovemaking. 

You take in another deep breath of the crisp morning air. The cold feels less intense compared to last night, but you are starting to feel a little chilly. You gently shift your body under the covers, seeking to snuggle up closer to Vash, and sneakily borrow more of his warmth, but when your thigh nestles between his and your hips come closer you realize that he’s aroused. 

Your eyes widen with surprise, and you sneak a peek under the blankets just to make sure. Yep. He’s hard. To be honest, you’re a little astonished that he has some drive left in him, given what you two had been up to last night.

“Cold, mayfly?” Vash sleepily slurs, snatching your attention back up to his face. 

Vash’s eyes are still closed, but his arm begins to move underneath the blankets. He reaches for you, and then wraps his arm around your back, pulling you closer to him. 

Once every little inch of your body is pressed snug against him, Vash hums happily. He then proceeds to indulge himself by burying his face against your neck. 

“S’okay, I’ll warm you up.” Vash mumbles sleepily against your skin. 

And true to his word, Vash is quite warm. You smile contentedly as you start to feel his heat spread across your entire body, seeping gently into your flesh, and warming you to your core. He feels so cozy, so comfortable, so nice. Being in his arms makes you as happy and relaxed as a cat in a sunbeam. 

But, Vash can’t keep still for long when he has you in his embrace like this. Soon enough, you feel Vash’s fingers start to move. He begins to gingerly trace your spine up and down in a soothing motion. 

It feels good, and you want to touch him too. The arm that rests under you slips out and travels upwards, reaching for Vash’s head. Your yearning fingers thread through his messy blonde locks as you so gently and so fondly caress his head. 

Vash heaves a wistful little sigh at your touch, then much like an affectionate puppy, he snuggles even closer and rubs his face against you. You can’t suppress the giggle bubbling in your throat at his sugary sweet gesture of affection. 

“Feels nice. No leaving bed today. S’not allowed.” Vash whispers.

You heave a deep sigh at his words.

‘If only we could.’ 

But you both know that it’s only a matter of time before one of your friends is banging on the door to get you up, dressed, and back out into the harsh desert sunlight again. Back to dusty roads and the scent of smoking gunpowder.

You close your eyes and force yourself to push those thoughts aside. You don’t want to think about those things right now. Right now you are exactly where you want to be most in the world. You are going to savor every last second of this moment. This precious, quiet little moment that is just for the two of you.

You’re wisped away from your thoughts when you suddenly feel Vash’s hips shift against yours. You feel him release a shuddering breath against your neck as he starts to lazily rub his erection against your thigh. 

You bite your lip, and a daring spark of lust ignites and then simmers between your legs at the feeling of him using your body for his pleasure. With a breathy chuckle, you respond to Vash’s advances by raising your leg up between his own and trapping his cock between his hip and your thigh.

Vash groans and his hot breath continues to tickle your skin as he begins a slow and steady rhythm of frotting himself against your body. A delightful wetness spreads across the place where he is rubbing. He’s leaking for you. He’s aching for you.

You plant a tender kiss on Vash’s head, and he reciprocates by pressing gentle kisses of his own down your neck. You shudder when you feel his hot tongue slip out and lewdly glide all the way down to your collarbone.

“Vash?” You breathe his name into the morning chill.

His “Mmm?” vibrates against your throat as he latches onto your neck and begins to suck. You exhale a pleasured little gasp. In the back of your sleep fogged mind, you know that you’ll likely have a hell of a time explaining away that little hickey later, but right now you can’t seem to care.

“Are you sure you want to go again?” You softly pant. “You’re not too tired?”

Vash’s answer to your question comes in the form of him gently removing your leg from between his, and then hoisting it upwards to wrap around his hip. His hand moves down to cup your ass to pull you closer, and you both quietly moan in bliss as Vash’s hard dick nestles itself lovingly against the wet folds of your sex. 

You won’t need any preparation this time. Thanks to Vash’s ministrations, you are sopping wet with your arousal. Not to mention that there are also remnants of last night’s escapades to lube you up for one more round. 

Vash finally lifts his face from the cradle of your neck. His expression is still dazed with sleep, but his blue eyes are filled with tender devotion as he looks up at you and gives you his softest smile.

“Guide me inside you, mayfly.” Vash cups your face and then presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Please.”

Well who could say no to that? 

Capturing Vash’s lips in a passionate kiss of your own, you reach down and take hold of his throbbing length. You rub the head of his cock teasingly up and down your slit, mixing your fluids, and getting him nice and wet and ready to enter you.

Vash inhales sharply as you temptingly rub him against you. Your eyes flash and capture him in a sultry glance as you bring his tip up to rub against your clit. You tremble as a deeply seated desire starts to bloom in your core. 

“T-tease.” Vash gasps in a playfully accusing tone. You chuckle, and then press a pert little peck to the corner of his mouth as a half apology.

Then, with a shimmy of your hips, you guide Vash’s cock to your entrance, and start to slowly sink yourself down.

Vash’s grip on you tightens and he moans as your tight, wet heat envelopes his length. You also can’t stay quiet and you groan with rapture at the feeling of Vash’s hot cock spreading you open. The pressure of his fingers gently digging into your back is gratifying and serves to entice you even more.

Encouraged by Vash’s reaction, you decide to take your time with him. And Vash is so patient, and so good for you. He litters your jaw with little kisses as he takes what you give him without complaint on the pace. He honestly just seems content to just savor the feeling of you slowly and lovingly bottoming him out inside of you.

Eventually, you do take Vash all the way to the hilt, and a sigh of relief escapes his lips when you do. A small and sly little smile spreads across your lips. You intend to tease Vash for a little bit longer; cockwarm him until he’s desperately oozing precum. But now that Vash has had a taste of your sinfully tantalizing insides, he finds that he can’t hold himself back anymore.

With your bodies entwined, Vash starts to slowly thrust his hips against yours. Your eyes are both locked in each other’s lustful gazes as his cock starts to massage the walls of your pussy. You tremble as you feel Vash plunge deeper into you with each drive forward of his hips. 

“J-just one more time, okay?” Vash moans as he looks yearningly into your eyes. “I promise.”

Now where have you heard that before?

You lean forward and give Vash a hungry kiss. He returns it with just as much fervor.

“Okay.”

No more words are exchanged between the two of you as you both lazily thrust your hips against one another’s. The sex is slow, groggy, and passionate. You and Vash give each other lazy kisses as you both pant and moan into each other’s mouths. It doesn't take long for the haze of sleep to be replaced by a haze of love drunk euphoria.

Vash starts to rut his hips against yours more vigorously, and when you feel his hand travel across your skin to ensnare your hip in a desperate grip, you know he is close to coming. You want to come when Vash does, so you reach down and circle your clit with your fingers. You mewl at the sensation as you feel your orgasm start to build fast.

Keen as ever, Vash doesn’t miss a beat, and his eyes follow your hand’s every movement as he watches your erotic display of self-pleasure.

“Fuck,” Vash whimpers. The snapping of his hips against yours becomes more forceful and intense. “That’s…that’s so…”

He isn’t able to finish his sentence. You silence Vash with a sloppy kiss and you purposefully clench your sex around his length. A breathless and whiny little moan escapes Vash’s lips as he thrusts his cock inside you one last time. 

Vash comes so sweetly. He buries his face into your neck and his entire body trembles with ecstacy in your arms. You can feel his cock twitch inside you as he pumps another thick, hot load of his cum into the deepest recesses of your body. It feels so good.

The feeling of Vash filling you up always sends you over the edge, so it’s not long before you reach your own peak too. With a firm circling of your clit, your breath hitches, and then you release a pleasured sigh as your orgasm gently washes over you too.

As your climaxes subside, the two of you lay still and panting in each other's arms. Both of your eyes are closed as you each revel in the pleasurable aftershocks of your releases. 

With time that sweet tension eventually eases from both of your bodies. You both are left limp, sweaty, and so fulfilled as you bask in the intimate aftermath of your joining. 

Then, you hear a heavy knock on the door.

“Rise and shine sleepyheads! Get your asses moving before I do it for you!”

You and Vash simultaneously sigh with disappointed longing. Then, hand in hand, you both emerge from your warm sanctuary under the covers.

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.

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