Sack

hearing lmk nezha talk is so crazy for me like so true vash the stampede

~ Vash the Stampede ; Trigun Stampede

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : the secret feelings between you and vash shine through when you dance together in your shared hotel room

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : vash x gn!reader, fluff

‧₊˚ a / n : i’ve had this idea in the back of my head for a while!! this was inspired by “in the night” by fly by midnight ~

You walked in the room curiously, eyeing the golden decor that complimented the cream color of the walls. You and your friends had managed to get rooms in a pretty fancy inn. Since it was a nice place it seemed like it was usually fully booked, and even though you did get a couple of rooms you still ended up having to share. After a heated game of rock paper scissors, Meryl won a room all for herself, Wolfwood had to share with Roberto and you were sharing with Vash.

I’m so very deep in my Trigun obsession, so it’s only fair that I write something about it

! Nsfw below !

“Does that feel good?” Vash’s voice comes out in a husk, low and gravelly as his lips brush against the shell of your ear. His fingers curl against your walls, pushing against that familiar spongy flesh of your g-spot. He has you seeing stars, your moan coming out as high-pitched whines as your hips rolled against his hand, your clit brushing against the heel of his hand and causing your eyes to flutter shut.

“So, so good…Gonna cum, Vash.” You croak, your chest heaving as the familiar heat of an orgasm pooled in your stomach. Vash groaned as you spoke, his lips nibbling at your earlobe as he curled his fingers inside you with a newfound eagerness. “That’s it…Go on, love. You can do it, know you can. My good girl..” he purrs, and he has your pussy spasming in seconds, your arousal spraying all over his hand, soaking both him and the sheets.

Your hand grips his prosthetic arm, your fingers trembling as your head falls back against his shoulder, your hot breath tickling his ear as you pant. Vash just lets out a breathy laugh, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as he slowly pulls his fingers away from your aching cunt.

“So perfect..”

——————————————————

“Eyes up here, sweetheart; and keep those legs open, yeah?” Wolfwood’s deep voice rings in your ears, his dialect rough from nicotine. His hand slaps against your wet pussy, causing you to wince and let out a whiney cry. He’s been bullying your cunt for hours now, only letting you cum twice in that timeframe.

Your legs snap open, your hands gripping the back of your thighs as you pull them back to your chest, your face beet red and dripping with sweat. “Please, Nico…Wanna cum so bad..” you mewl, your voice cracking from how long and loud you were squealing as Wolfwood’s thick fingers continued to curl against your spongy g-spot.

Your begging earns a playful smirk to pull at his lips, his eyes flashing as he purrs, his fingers picking up the pace. “Oh, well…since ya asked so nicely, I guess you can cum.” His words have you gushing in an instant, your knuckles going white as your pussy clenched around his fingers, spraying against his abdomen. It makes a groan rumble in his chest.

Wolfwood removes his fingers from your exhausted cunt, moving them to his lips to lick them clean. Your taste has him groaning again. “Good girl..”.

——————————————————

A/N: I’m actually super proud of this one, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Vashwood brainrot

——————————————————————————————————

playing house || j. miller

summary: you’re tired of playing house with Joel. you’re tired of pretending that you don’t want something more from him than unspoken touches on nights when you both feel lonely. your body finally gives in to what you want, barely leaving room for your mind to follow.

warnings: alcohol, smut smut smut, drunkish sex, fingering, oral (fem ), unprotected sex, dirty talk, breeding kink, creampie, some angst, blood imagery, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, gross men, probably ooc joel, swearing, female reader, let me know if i missed any ‘cause i probably did

word count: 4k

A/N: i haven't written smut in like two years…let’s not discuss it. anyways, i played tlou like a year ago cause i saw an edit of joel miller and goddd. i fell in love w/ pedro as mando, so him as joel? unexpected surprise. love it.

here's my masterlist if you want to read more of my work!

It’s hard to remember how it started. 

You met him without hope. Life was reduced to surviving, and you knew that you’d never exist for pleasure again. You knew that everything you had hoped for, everything you had hoped to be, was washed away with everything else on that great September day. 

You met him long after life had its way with both of you. Your flesh was painted with the whisper of knives on your skin. His was too, but the marks were accompanied by lines that came as easy as time, the colour driven from his hair an ever-present reminder of his loss.

You met him when his hands were covered in your blood. You had limped into the first place you could find free of infected. The wound in your thigh wept blood as you shut the door to the dingy house behind you. You fell into the closest wall for support, sliding down until you hit the ground. You tightened the makeshift tourniquet around your leg. Your pant leg was soaked with the dark liquid. The metallic smell of blood hung in the air around you. The humid air clung to your skin as it glistened with the effort your body was giving to try and keep you alive.

You were shivering, but it wasn’t cold. Were you shivering? Or were you trembling? The pain rippled up your leg and through your body. Your spine felt like a saw cutting through your body. You couldn’t think as straight as you needed to in this world. The only thing that kept bouncing around your brain was sleep sleep sleep.

You succumbed to the soft promises of rest as your mind lulled you into sleep. Deep sleep.

“Joel, come on! We can’t just fucking leave her here. She’s still breathing.”

“She could be bit, Ellie.”

“She’s not! She’d be fucking tweaking by now and shit.” There was a faint pressure on your leg. 

“Ellie! What the fuck are you doing? Get off-”

“She’s not bit, Joel, it’s from a gun. We can’t just leave her to die…”

“We don’t even know her!”

“I don’t care! I’m tired of leaving people to die. I’m tired of everyone dying. This is one person we can save.”

There was silence for a few seconds. You started falling into the remainder of sleep you clung to. 

“Move over.”

Another pressure on your leg. Someone slipping the tourniquet off your leg. The sound of a blade cutting through fabric. Your eyes fluttered open. A burly man and a young girl sat in front of you. The girl’s hands were dripping with blood. His were on your leg, pressing, pressing, pressing.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “She’s lost a lot of blood. Ellie…I don’t know if we can-”

“Stop,” you croaked out, your voice dry and rough, weaker than you intended it to be. You tried to push his hand away, but it was futile. 

“Gonna help you, honey. Relax. Not gonna hurt ya,” he said. His voice was gruff, a Southern accent lacing in his voice.

The presence of the girl reassured you. Surely, a man wouldn’t kill you in front of his daughter, right? Besides, her supportive hand on your shoulder gave you some semblance of trust in them. You were too weak not to trust them.

“I’m Ellie. This is Joel,” she smiled and motioned at the man working on your leg. He grunted in response. Your name fell off your lips in a scratchy groan. She repeated it and smiled a reassuring smile.

Joel had your blood up to his elbows by the time he got the bullet out. Your screams from the searing, white-hot pain of him digging the bullet out of your leg had died and left your throat raw. Ellie let you sip from her canteen as Joel stitched you up with his First Aid kit. Slowly, your eyelids fell and your breath evened out again. Your body worked on building your energy back while Joel worked on closing up your wound, while Ellie worked on convincing Joel to let you go with them. 

When you woke up, you would no longer be feverish, but you’d be frenzied, heart racing and palms sweating, shakily pointing your gun at Joel when he tried to check your wound for infection. You’d remember what he did for you, and you’d put it down. You’d apologize for freaking out. You’d sit down to a “meal” with him and Ellie. And you’d try not to think about the fact that you owed him your life.

Tension built for fourteen months. You’d acted as if you stuck with the two for the reason you said you would the day that Joel saved you.

Where were you heading?

Nowhere, now. My family is gone. My friends are dead. Just me left. 

It would be great to have another pair of hands to take care of that one, he said. She can be a handful sometimes.

You had just nodded and that was that. You have been with them ever since. Even when you made it to Jackson and settled down, the three of you settled into your own life together. You’d grown to love Ellie, yes, and you’d protect her with your life. But was that it? Wasn’t there some unspoken dedication you had to Joel, too? 

Some nights, long after Ellie had gone to bed, the faint taste of old whiskey still on your tongue, you and Joel would find yourselves exploring each other, but never tasting more than each other’s lips offered. Sometimes, if he was feeling brave, he’d glide his tongue down your neck, kissing down the column of your throat, but you’d always stop him from going further. What would it be like when you woke up in the morning? Would he regret it? Or would he only want you for your body after that? Surely he didn’t feel the same way you did. Surely he had more resolve than you.

Surely it was obvious that there was no hope for the two of you. He only showed interest in you when the whiskey took over, his Southern drawl becoming drawn out and his jaw loosening. 

You’d keep playing house with Joel and Ellie until you found a good enough reason not to. Until you could pry yourself away from the man who dragged you out of death’s grip.

A wedding in the apocalypse was fucking ridiculous. Two years ago, you would’ve started laughing hysterically when you were handed a wedding invitation. 

But here you were. Some couple in Jackson decided to get hitched, and Tommy and Maria were just fine with having a huge wedding for them. 

Jackson had developed some sort of an economy, so you bought a dress off of a sweet old seamstress a few houses over. It was a nice piece in your favourite colour. It was nice to be able to think about your favourite colour again.

The wedding was in a park. It was a nice, peaceful afternoon. The reception was at Jackson’s most functionable bar, the same bar that you and Joel frequently found yourself at after patrol shifts. Ellie was off somewhere with the other kids in Jackson.

Old country music filled the air from a radio behind the bar. You sat on the barstools with Maria, talking about supply, patrol, the wedding, anything, everything. You were a few drinks in by now, swaying slightly to the music, less tense, content. 

“So, how’s Joel?” Maria said with a scheming grin and raised eyebrows.

“To hell if I know,” you huffed, downing your drink and flagging the bartender for another one. 

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me there isn’t something between you two.”

“There’s nothing between us two. Hear that?” you said, glaring at her. She hummed, as if to say sure there’s not.

“If it’s a matter of age, I think that flew out the window when people started biting each other-”

“God, Maria. Drop it, okay? He’s not into me. There’s nothing there,” you said, staring into your drink. 

“You really don’t see it? The way he looks at you?” You glared. “Okay, I’ll stop. But for the record, there is someone who’s all over you right now,” she grinned and gestured to a guy at the other end of the bar. You groaned and turned back to Maria. 

“Yeah, he’s been all over me since I fucking got here,” you said as you sipped your drink. She laughed and wished you goodluck. She wanted to go find Tommy. 

You silently cursed yourself as the guy from the end of the bar moved to slide right into Maria’s old spot. 

“Hey, pretty lady. Can I get you a drink?” He said with a smile on his face dripping with condescension.

“Got one,” you said, raising your drink back to your lips.

“A second, then?”

“I’ve already had my second. And my third. I’m good, thanks,” you said, giving him a tight-lipped smile. You hoped that would be the end of it.

“God, you’re feisty, huh?” He chuckled, finishing his own drink. “Good thing I like them that way.” His arm snaked around your waste. It made your skin crawl. You stood, trying to ignore the way you swayed back and forth.

“Look, buddy, I’m not interested. Fuck off.”

“Oh, come on, honey. Don’t be such a bitch,” he grinned, standing to wrap his arms around you.

You began to push him off, but he was torn from you and pushed into the bar instead. 

“You heard the woman. Fuck off.” Joel. How the fuck did he get there so fast?

“She yours?” The man said, pointing at you. He laughed. “You can have her. A piece like that has probably slept with half of Jackson’s population. Fuckin’ bitch,” he growled, attempting to push past Joel.

“The fuck did you just say?”

“You heard me.” In seconds, the man was on the floor, cradling his jaw. 

“What the fuck, man?” He whined.

“Get out.” Joel growled.

He scampered out of the bar, but not without a you’re fucking crazy.

Joel’s jaw was tense. Tenser than it has been in a while. He looked at you.

“You okay?” He said, voice softening.

“I’m fine, Joel,” you said, trying to push past him. He grabbed you by the shoulders and stopped you.

“Woah, what’s got you mad at me, darlin’?” Darling. Him and his fucking names. If only he could feel the effect it had.

“I can take care of my fucking self. And stop calling me that,” you seethed, finally pushing past him.

“Oh, come on,” he called your name, following you out of the bar. 

Once outside, the fresh air helped you to sober up a little. The sky was darkening, streaked with a palette of oranges and pinks. You looked at your shoes and crossed your arms as Joel appeared beside you. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” He broke the silence. His voice was softer than normal, but it didn’t lack the gravel it usually has. You turned your face away from him. He moved to stand in front of you. His fingers found your chin, turning it to face him. “Hm?” Blush crept up your neck and to your cheeks. You pulled away from him.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“You’re not very convincing, honey,” he said, crossing his arms, eyes searching for yours.

“Don’t call me that. You…”

“I what?”

“You can’t say things like that,” you said, finally looking at him.

He took a step closer to you. You could feel his breath on your cheek. He smelled like whiskey and pine. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Why not, darlin’?” His voice was low, emphasizing the name.

You huffed out. “‘Cause it’s not fair. You can’t just go around calling me things like that with no weight behind it. Gives me the wrong idea.”

“And what idea might that be?”

That he cares. That he cares more for you than just what he shows you in the moments when your lips are on his. When he’s lonely. When he’s drunk. That he might be yours.

“Forget it,” you shake your head.

“Tell me,” he demands. “Tell me what I do to you.”

You shove him away from you. “Don’t fucking do that, Joel. Not again. I’m tired of it.”

He looked like a kicked puppy. Joel Miller, rejected? By you? 

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the adrenaline of having him this close to you. You kept going. “I’m tired of playing house and acting like I don’t want more.”

His brows furrowed, but his eyes told you to go on.

“I’m tired of acting like I don’t want you.”

The words hung in the air between you two. His lips parted and his gaze softened.

“And I know what you’re gonna say. You’re gonna sugarcoat it, but I’m begging you to just put me out of my misery. Just tell me you don’t want me so I can move on,” you breathed, that familiar feeling gathering in your chest and in your throat.

He cocked his head to the side. “Show me.”

“What? Joel-”

“Show me how much you want me.” Oh. Fuck. 

To stop yourself from thinking about it any longer, you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him into you. He caged you between his arms on the wall behind you. You could almost taste him, your breath mixing with his. Your chest heaved. 

You brushed your lips over his, barely touching. 

“Quit teasin’” he growled. Fisting the collar of his shirt once more, you pulled him forward, connecting your lips with his. It was a mess of teeth and tongue, feverish and needy. It was the destruction of the dam that you’d both built over months. And it felt good. 

His hands moved to your hips, pulling you in close. You tugged on the greying hair at the base of his neck with one hand and ran your hand over the scratchy hair on his jaw with the other. He groaned. “Let’s go home, pretty girl.” He grabbed your hand and started leading you in the direction of your house. “Can’t do the things I wanna do to you outside of a bar.”

Joel broke from your mouth to throw you down on the bed. Then he was right back on you. He crawled on top of you, caging you underneath him. He kissed you like he was hungry, like he thought you would get away. You moaned into the kiss. 

He slotted his thigh between your legs, the skirt of your dress riding up. Slowly, you began to grind on his thigh. Joel pulled away from the kiss. “Needy thing, aren’t you?” He said as he began sucking marks into your neck and chest. He pushed the straps of your dress down your shoulders so he had more flesh to lay his claim on. Sometimes he’d bite gently, then lick over it to soothe it. His hand ghosted over your breast, looking up to ask for permission. You nodded fervently.

“Words, honey. Gonna need words.”

“Yes, Joel. Do it. Do anything you want to me,” you said, just above a whisper. He groaned at the admission. He grabbed the fabric at your chest and pulled it down, past your tits. He palmed one, playing with the hardened bud, while his tongue drew circles on the other, his warm mouth enveloping your nipple. You were still grinding on his thigh as he sucked marks across your chest. It wasn’t enough, the heat in your core was spreading, but it wasn’t high enough. You needed more.

You whimpered, “Need more.”

Joel released your tit. “Need what, baby? Use your words.”

“Need you. I need you to do something. It’s not enough.”

He hummed. “And what do you want me to do, sweetheart? Tell me where you want me. Don’t get shy on me now.”

“I want you inside of me. Want your cock,” you blushed. He smirked. His hand travelled down, down, down, until he was cupping your heat. 

“Here?” You nodded. “Hmm, that’s not gonna do, pretty girl. Gotta get you ready for me first. Don’t think you can take me just yet.”

“I can,” you argued, but he wouldn’t relent. He slid his shirt off instead. His chest and torso was littered with scars, proof of a heavy life. Proof that he was tired. Proof that he just wanted to lay down with someone instead of fighting. His position between your legs proof that he wanted to lay down with you.

“Don’t wanna hurt ya,” he said, his voice soft. His thumb traced the scar on your bare leg. “You’ve been hurt enough.” At that, he kissed you. But this was soft. Softer than any other kiss you’ve shared. It was passionate, but it wasn’t fueled by passion. It was fueled by something unspoken. Something new. Something blossoming.

When he pulled away, he kissed down your body, down your neck, down the valley of your chest, pulling your dress completely off to kiss down your stomach, all the way down, stopping at your core. He looked up at you, again, silently begging for permission. 

“Please, Joel. I need you,” the heat seared in your centre, dripping from you. He hooked his fingers inside your panties and pulled them down your legs. You didn’t miss the way he tucked them in his back pocket.

Joel ran his ring finger through your folds, collecting your juices. “You’re fucking dripping, sweetheart. All of this is for me?” You whimpered a yes.

He grinned before flattening his tongue and licking a broad stripe up your pussy. As he lapped at your folds, the sounds you made were obscene. Nobody had ever made you feel this good. His tongue was like a blessing. He lit every nerve in your body on fire with just his touch. His hands squeezed the soft flesh of your thighs as he ate you out. 

“I’m so close. So close. Please,” you moaned. Your hands found his head, pulling gently at his hair, making him groan into your core. He likes that. Noted.

The pressure was building in your core. The heat was scorching, running through your body, trickling down every inch of you. When he added a finger inside you (or two, you were too close to tell), the coil finally snapped, and you swear you died and he revived you. Flashes of white seared in your vision, your throat raw from the noises you were making for him. All for him. 

When you finally came down, you were panting. Noticing the way you started to squirm out of sensitivity, Joel ceased his ministrations on your clit. He pulled his fingers from your hole and brought them to his lips, licking your juices from his digits. You moaned at the sight. 

You pulled him up to your lips. He knew you could taste yourself on his tongue, and the thought made him harder, if that was even possible. It was now that you noticed the tent between his legs. You palmed him through his jeans, eliciting a groan from him. 

“My turn,” you said, undoing his belt. His hand on your wrist stopped you.

“Not tonight, honey. Wanna be inside you.” You nodded your head and let him undo his belt. He tossed it to the side with his pants and boxers. His length stood from between his legs. You’ve wanted him so bad for so long, but you never could’ve imagined how big he’d be. Your mouth nearly watered at the sight. He chuckled as he observed you staring, mouth agape. 

He took in the sight of you, laying, spread all pretty for him, clenching around nothing. Your slick and his saliva smeared between your thighs, chest heaving, cheeks flushed, a light sweat coating your skin. Fucked out. His hands explored your body, rubbing your soft flesh and pressing kisses across the expanse of your skin. “So beautiful. My pretty girl.” 

His?

Joel’s mouth found yours once more. He rubbed himself across your folds to collect your slick. You squirmed. “Now who’s teasing?” you said, exasperated. He chuckled and lined himself up with your entrance. 

He paused before pushing in. “Tell me something, honey. Tell me you’re mine,” he said. There was something different in his voice, something new. Or maybe it had just gone undetected for so long. 

“I’m yours, Joel,” you said, barely above a whisper. “Always yours. Always have been.”

With that, Joel slowly pushed into you. When he bottomed out, you both moaned. “Fuck,” he groaned. Hands planted firmly on your hips, he pulled out and pushed back in again, harder this time, at a spearing pace. 

He was setting a brutal pace, tightening the coil in your centre tighter and tighter. His hand travelled down to circle your clit. Still sensitive from before, your orgasm washed over you unexpectedly, making you clench on Joel’s cock. “Fuck, baby. Gonna milk me.”

Your legs were shaking now, you were past the point of comprehension. “Poor girl. ‘M fucking you dumb, hey?” Joel groaned. “Give me another one. C’mon, I know you can, pretty girl.”

“Anything. Anything for you,” you whined. Your orgasm neared fast, and you began to feel his thrusts falter with his impending release. “Cum inside of me. I want it,” you begged.

Joel groaned. “Fuck, honey. Gonna fill you up, sweet girl. You’d like that, huh? Fuck a baby into you? Fuck. Gonna be the death of me.”

His pace quickened, became more needy. Your orgasm hit you for the third time, Joel leaving your cunt ablaze, every nerve in your body on fire. Joel kissed you through your orgasm, finally spilling into you, moaning into your mouth as he came, filling your head, your heart, and your cunt with him him him.

He pulled away from you to catch his breath, but pecked small kisses on your lips and around your face between breaths. Your chests heaved.

You found yourself wrapped up in him under the blanket, drifting to sleep. Your bodies fit together like two pieces of the same puzzle. You laid in his arms in the dark, listening to his heartbeat, feeling his chest rise and fall steadily under your cheek, wondering what the morning would bring you. Wondering who you would be when you woke up. Would you wake up next to him? Did he mean anything he said?

You woke the next morning to the sun streaming in through the windows. The rays kissed your skin, dancing over the marks left by your lover. Your lover? Was he your lover?

You reached to the spot where he should be sleeping next to you. Your heart dropped a little when you felt the lack of his presence, fingers brushing over the-still warm bed sheet. You had let yourself believe that whatever last night was had been real. That he felt the same way you did. That you were really his. That he was yours. Maybe you woke as different people than you were last night. 

You roll onto your back and scold yourself for being so naive, when you hear soft, deep humming coming from the hallway, getting louder the closer it gets. Joel.

Your eyes open as he enters the bedroom, holding two cups. 

“Coffee,” he says gently, handing you one cup and sitting on the edge of the bed with his in his large hand. There’s something different about him today. Maybe it’s a different air. Or maybe it’s the gentle smile on his face as his eyes meet his marks on your neck and chest. Maybe it’s the lack of a crease between his brows this morning. He looks content.

You grin, blushing as you sit up, looking down at your coffee, shaking your head at yourself. 

“What’re you worryin’ that pretty head of yours about?”

You give a curt laugh. “Nothin’. It’s stupid.”

“Nothin’ you think it stupid, pretty girl,” he says with a smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Tell me.”

“I just thought you’d left. Regretted last night or something.”

He chuckled lightly. “Hey, ‘m not goin’ anywhere anytime soon, got that?” You nodded. “I already told you. You’re mine, honey.”

permanent taglist:

@winters-fairy

just moon being an asshole n distracting y/n on purpose while they're tryin ta WORK!!!!

i heard this audio on insta a week ago n my simp brain activated

Never Ever Getting Rid Of Me (FNAF Daycare Attendant) fan animatic

Softwares used: Medibang Paint Pro and Kinemaster app

If You made a sandwich and cut it into neat triangles for Karamatsu while he was drunk he would cry.

Donnie: you’re annoying

Y/n: let go of my hand then

Donnie:

Donnie: no.

Jane: The moon is beautiful tonight

Nina: It really is

*In another room*

Jeff, whispering: Should we tell them that's a tortilla you threw at the window?

Y/n: Please don't

Masky, on the phone: I need your location so we can find you

Y/n, looking at the sky: I’m under a cloud that looks like a lion

Masky: Could you be more specific?

Y/n: Simba

Y/n: WHAT THE FUCK?!

Slender: Language, please!

Y/n: Whom the sexual intercourse!

Slender: WHAT THE FUCK?!