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after-witch · 1 year

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A Family Picture [Yandere Vash x Reader]

Title: A Family Picture [Yandere Vash x Reader]

Synopsis: Vash always wanted a family.

Word count: 2000ish

notes: yandere, possessive behavior, toxic relationship, pregnant afab reader, babytrapping

You thought you had known what it felt like to be shocked.

You were shocked when you came home from school one day to find your aunt in your house, with a sad but patient smile on her face, and the news of your parents death in a shootout on her lips.

You were shocked when you found out that the man you’d been flirting with all afternoon was Vash the Stampede, quite literally the most infamous man (if he could be called a man, technically speaking) on the planet.

But this? This goes beyond being surprised or shocked. This is something you were not expecting, ever, and it feels like you’ve been held upside down and shaken for a good long while. And then some.

“Miss?”

The doctor’s voice cuts unpleasantly through your shaking thoughts and you stare at him, feeling your gaze barely registering as you blink and blink and try to understand.

“Thank you,” you murmur, and the paper in your hands crumples as you grip it tightly and rush to get dressed. You ignore the doctor’s request for a follow up, and his remark about bringing the father in for a consultation as well.

That thought made you chuckle, bitter and breathy, as you hurried out the door of the office. Christ. You couldn’t bring the father into the doctor. Not unless you wanted to get surrounded by scientists, at best, or locked away in some lab at worst.

You had to get home. And then what? You didn’t know.

All you know right now is… you would have to tell Vash. There was no way around it.

You were pregnant with his child.

Vash’s expression doesn’t change for several long, agonizing moments. In those moments, your hand instinctively rests on your stomach. In anxiety. In desperation. In hope? You don’t know, you don’t know exactly how you feel about any of this.

All you know is that you can’t stand that look of quiet contemplation on his face. The uncertainty, the worry, something else--disbelief?

And then, just like that, his expression breaks and there’s a beautiful, soft smile and he’s looking up at you with tears in his tired eyes.

“S-Seriously? That’s what the doctor said? You’re not pulling a prank, are ya?”

You shake your head, feeling dumbfounded--feeling the tight coil of shock and anxiety begin to gradually unloosen.

“No, he…” You curl your fingers against your stomach. “He was pretty clear about it. He wants you to come in to see him, but um…”

Vash lets out a shaky laugh and runs his finger through his darkened hair.

“I’m not too keen on that kind of attention, so I think we’ll keep to ourselves, huh?” His grin doesn’t quite smooth over the real danger associated with what’s happening, but it does help you feel a little better.

You sigh, tired, beleaguered. And Vash is right there, pulling up one of the well-worn chairs you’d fished out from a dumpster a few weeks back. He slides it underneath you and helps you down, as if you’re already 9 months pregnant and need the help.

You laugh a little bit. “Hey, I can sit down on my own, you know.

Vash waves you away, and looks at you with this bright tenderness that makes your heart twist. “Call me a worried father, I guess.” He pauses at his own words, and you can’t help but grin at the almost surprised look on his own face.

He’s coming to the same realization that you’ve already dealt with; or at least, dealt with the initial shock: you’re going to be a parent.

He looks serious, suddenly. “Just… let me take care of you, okay? You and the baby.” He leans down and wraps his arms around you. His words are muffled against your shoulder, but they come out clear enough. Clear and strained and protective. “I won’t let anything happen to either of you.”

His hug is too tight, but you don’t say anything. You’re too relieved that he’s excited about all this to care about anything else.

Later, you swear to yourself, you’ll ask Vash how this was even possible. He’d told you on the night you’d first made love that it was impossible for you to get pregnant from him, because of his biology. That’s why you’d never used protection. It seemed a pointless expense.

Later, that question will come. But for now, you stroke Vash’s hair and let him hold you, and try not to worry about the future.

After one, two would come. Not right away.

Your daughter was about four when Vash brought up the idea of a sibling. You’d hesitated, if only because of Vash’s own history with his brother, which you still didn’t fully understand, because it was a painful subject that was best left untouched.

“It’ll be good for her.”

There was something so soft and sweet in his eyes, that it was easy to ignore the desperation in his tone. It was even easier to ignore the fact that you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted another child.

It was… different, being a parent. Especially with Vash, who was kind, of course, and loyal and protective. But it wasn’t like you could live an ordinary life together. He was too famous, his face plastered all over the world.

And whenever his identity was discovered or someone came looking for him, the three of you had to pack up and move on, often quickly, leaving behind treasured items in the name of safety.

But he pleaded. He wheedled. He convinced you. It would give your daughter someone to play with, when she was lonely. Goodness knows she had enough of that, especially during the days when you had to keep low and didn’t dare let her play with anyone in whatever town you’d ended up in.

Sometimes--privately, in your heart--you debated leaving Vash. Taking your daughter and just leaving. It wasn’t like your face was famous, or hers. She would be safe. She would be normal. She would get to live an ordinary life where mom and dad didn’t hastily bundle her up with a few of her favorite toys and get the hell out of town in the middle of the night.

And you… would be normal too. It was selfish to think about that, you knew. But you wouldn’t deny that you missed being able to live like a regular person, without the fear of people finding out who you were with, and who cared about you.

But could you leave him? He loved you. He loved her. There was no doubt about that. Every time you thought you made up your mind to leave, you simply couldn’t.

There would be no money in the jar for train tickets out of town, making it impossible to leave. Or your daughter would get sick, and you certainly couldn’t take her while she was ill. Or Vash would be exceptionally sweet that day and guilt would eat your thoughts up.

So… two came. And with two, the thought of leaving Vash seemed to ebb and flow, sometimes becoming unbearable and sometimes fading away to almost nothing.

It wasn’t like you thought about it all the time. Just now and then. An occasional thought that you carefully weighed in your hands before putting it back on the shelf so it could gather dust for another few months.

You loved Vash, and you loved your family. God knows you did, and would always.

But Vash could be… a lot. Especially now.

He was overprotective to a degree that made you irritated. You weren’t allowed to get a job anymore, because he didn’t trust anyone else to watch over your children. If you made friends with a neighbor, he wanted to check them out, to make sure they weren’t someone shady--or someone trying to collect the bounty on his head. Going out on your own, with or without the kids? Nearly impossible, unless he was in an exceptionally docile mood and you turned on enough charm.

And the running--it was unbearable. You were hardly settled into a new town before Vash came in, a familiar well-worn look on his face, sweat on his brow. And every time, you knew.

You would have to leave. Again.

It was always the same. Vash would come in with that smile that was more like a grimace. A hand sheepishly running through his hair, his eyes downcast. Apologies spilling from his lips, familiar words in familiar tones.

And then what little life you’d created was packed up, your children were uprooted, and life had to begin anew somewhere else.

Sometimes, on those long nights on the trains, crowded and noisy, kids and Vash and clutched luggage at your side, you thought: Is this the life I wanted to lead? Is this the life I want them to lead? Always running, always looking over our shoulders?

But after two… there was the third. Unplanned. A total surprise, especially because you’d been buying protection every chance you got.

But with the third, a little boy with chubby cheeks and a shock of blonde hair, your thoughts of leaving seemed to naturally subside.

Not because Vash had changed, or you’d learned to accept the things you hated.

But because you weren’t stupid enough to think that a woman towing three children behind her would be able to make it on her own on this forsaken desert planet, regardless of the new Earth outreach that was gradually making life more bearable in some places.

Vash smiles and watches his trio of children running about in the backyard, tripping over the sand, squealing in delight at the toys he’d picked up for them in town. The sound of their laughter is music to his ears, no matter how many times he hears it.

He glances into the house through the back window and you were there, in the kitchen, idly humming a nameless tune as you fixed dinner.

You seem to sense his gaze and give him a tired, worn, pressed-down smile. He grins back at you and your eyes flit back down to the stove, stirring something, throwing a handful of this and that into the pot.

Vash sighs and returns his gaze to the children. The oldest was the ringleader, of course. Bossy as all get out, prone to jutting out her chin and demanding her siblings do what she says.

The second was the quietest, a little slip of a girl, who was more content to read books in her mama’s lap than run around with her siblings. But she could be persuaded, in the right mood.

And the third, a boy, whose smile makes Vash's heart squeeze. Because it’s a familiar smile. Not his smile. But… sometimes, when his son turns his head just-so, or asks Vash a question in a particular lilt, his heart pangs tightly in remembrance of his twin. Someone like him, but oh, not quite.

The pain was mingled with the bliss of fatherhood, of course. And his love for you.

You would never know how much he loved you, really. It was that love that brought the five--five, even thinking the number made him smile--of you where you were today.

It was that love which made him swear to never, ever reveal the truth about your pregnancy.

Yes, it was a surprise when you’d rushed home from the doctor and told him about your pregnancy all those years ago. Not because he didn’t think he could get you pregnant. No, no. But only because he thought it would have taken longer, once he’d prepared his body for impregnation.

It was a bit funny, he thought, that he could turn on his fertility like a light switch. It made it easier to plan for kids… well, on his end, of course, since you knew nothing about it.

It was a secret that only one other person from Gunsmoke knew, and that man was dead. William Conrad, long since murdered by Knives. Vash didn’t like to think of Conrad too much--grief for that man was complex, distant and mingled with bitterness.

But he did have Conrad to thank for leaving behind clues to tests he’d run on independent plant biology, including their ability to have children under the right conditions.

He’s not heartless. He knows it wasn’t right to surprise you with that pregnancy, or encourage the others--not just because he wanted children, but because he knew it would make it harder for you to leave. But it was for your own good.

Besides… you loved the children, too. And him, though he could tell you weren’t always happy with the restrictions forced upon you because of his infamy. Yet you were a wonderful mother, and a wonderful spouse, and when you did manage to smile, it still lit up the entire room.

You were made for this, he thinks.

He just had to clip your wings a little to make you see that.

It wasn’t right. But… sometimes you have to do hard things to keep the people you love safe.

Vash knew that fact better than anyone else on Gunsmoke.

#yandere trigun #yandere vash the stampede #yandere vash #afterwitch writes #yandere

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thoughtsat3amconstantly · 1 year

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I saw your post on platonic yandere knive and I love it. It gets real boring to see only plantcest, but may I offer an idea for yandere knives who's not only a platonic yandere for Vash, but also a yandere (romantic) for Vash darling who is empathetic and doesn't hate knives and is understanding of his questionable philosophy about human beings.

Here's the scenario that I had in mind : Vash darling has been with Vash for a long time, long enough that Vash told them about knives, the plants and Rem(Vash also using his past to keep his darling with him) . Instead of being disgusted, they are understanding about the situation and stay with him. And as we all know knives love to stalk his little brother and took a liking to darling. His impressed by they loyalty to Vash and sees why his little brother is so in love with them. So what better idea is not only to kidnapp Vash, but also his darling to help him keep to stay put. When Vash is misbehaving his punishment is less time with darling and Knives gets to spent more time with darling and slowly becomes more obsessed with darling. Now knives has not only one person to protect, now he has two, which he doesn't mind.

This is as much comes to my mind and I hope you also like the idea. I'm sorry everyone, but I cannot choose between knives and vash. I love both of them so much. 😭

Thanks if you took a look at the ask. Hope you have a great day or night.

I kind of like your idea.

Here’s what I imagine:

Vash was not happy at the fact that not only was he captured by Knives, but you as well! He did not what his brother to get ahold of you for fearing that he would hurt you or worse.

Every time Vash tries to escape or upset his brother by acting out of line, he splits him up from you. You’re at the mercy of Knives when that happens, so you try to not make him agitated or angry in hopes of him ignoring you for the time being.

Knives would at first ignore you, as he had a lot to do. After a while he became more curious of you. He wanted to know what made Vash so drawn to you. Naturally he asked questions about you, where you were from, and how you met Vash. The more you two talked, the more Knives became drawn to you too.

Eventually he became more caring towards you. While Vash was glad that you were okay, he was really annoyed that his brother was getting waaay to close to you for comfort. You were not for Knives! You were for him only! And he didn’t like humans! WTF??!

In all honesty Knives came off as a tsundere yandere towards you (you can look at it as like romantically or platonically) after being drawn towards you. Anyone who witnesses Knives’ interaction with you will put it as either confusing, or funny.

Vash is desperately trying to escape, which results in punishment of being split up from you, in turn giving more time to spend with Knives. It’s a vicious cycle.

At this point, you just want some peace and quiet after dealing with their shenanigans and bickering about you spending time with who more. Knives crew sometimes hide you from both brothers as to hopefully get them to stop bickering and getting back on track. Sometimes they question their life choices as to how they got into this situation.

Either way, you’re not leaving either brothers side. You’re pretty much stuck with them.

A/N: Sorry if this is not what you had in mind. I hope you like it tho! Also, you’re like my first ask too! I was pretty excited!

#Yandere millions Knives #yandere trigun #yandere vash #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #millions knives

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wk05-writes-yans · 1 year

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Yan Vash moodboard hours

And an episode 12 version

#yandere moodboard #yandere #vash the stampede #tristamp #yandere trigun #trigun stampede #yandere vash the stampede #stampede spoilers

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holydayaria · 1 year

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Responsibilities

Millions Knives x Reader

Synopsis: Knives is in heat and finally caves to it.

Warnings: afab reader, oral sex (m receiving), knives tries to gaslight you (and himself??), questionable use of aphrodisiacs, knives is in heat, dubcon, p-in-v sex, implied soft yandere knives? sort of? It was written with that in mind

2370 words // i'm a bit iffy on his characterization in this, i hope its alright // @p00pdev1l @princessfetus @concerned-cat-paws @xxstarlightwaltzxx @lela-ri @colmustardseed

Knives runs over the plan a few times in his head. He looks over the syringe in his hand, filled with a pink fluid. Just the smell of it made Knives feel nauseous, but it had its intended effect on the human test subjects. He’ll have to trust Conrad’s work; the ‘medicine’ had been injected and ingested by a few humans, all with the same blood type as yours for added measure. Each one produced the result he was looking for, so he felt confident enough to give it to you. Knives worried that mixing it into something may dilute its effects, and while injecting it probably would freak you out- he has no incentive to be nice about this with you. You’re his to do what he wants with- he’s allowed to do this, entitled to it even.

The aphrodisiac would last a full 48 hours, lucky you. Unlucky for Knives, that wouldn’t be enough. He kept an extra four syringes to use once the 48 hours ended; just enough to last him for the rest of his heat. He’s held off for two weeks already, just one more week left. Knives isn’t sure what he’s expecting to happen. Sex, especially for a reason that isn’t repopulation, is something he’s never done before. Especially not with a human. He’s read up on anatomy textbooks, he knows how this is supposed go, which spots he should stimulate and which ones he should leave alone.

It’s the first time he’s ever been uncertain about something in his life. He doesn’t have to do this, it’s not too late to turn around and go back to his private chambers- to destroy the syringes before he thinks of using them again. Knives almost doesn’t know why he’s doing this; but he has an answer in the back of his head. In the recesses of his mind, Knives wants you to be the one coming onto him. How badly he wishes the roles were reversed- so he could be the one in control of himself while you’re helpless and needing him to stuff you full of his cum. But of course, nature was repeatedly so cruel to him. Knives refuses to be weak, to even ask you to for permission to relieve himself of his urges. You’d never agree, not to what would now be an entire week of constant overstimulation from him.

Knives could just ride it out like he has every other year, but if he has you- why should he? Don’t you owe him something, for all he’s done? This is your role as an inferior life form, a human, to serve him. He’s just making it easier for you to do so. And sure, he doesn’t have to ask for permission or accommodate for you, but Knives feels as if he at least owes it to you to make you comfortable. You’ve done your part in this… relationship, not causing too much trouble for him and allowing him to do mostly what he wants with you.

This is the best option, for both of you.

With that he opens the metal door handle to your room; cold and sterile- save for a few items he let you have; the bare essentials. You have everything here, and you (rightfully) never ask for more. There is nothing from your life before him; only the things Knives decided you needed to live. A third plush blanket, a nightlight (multiple, actually), a collection of books he deemed suitable for you, as well as other items to keep you preoccupied so you don’t go mad from boredom. In the far corner of the room was a collection of items you picked up on the times he forced you to accompany him to No Mans Land to take back his brethren. The items range from small trinkets to a stuffed animal you stitched back together.

Only the bare essentials, truly.

The awful pulsing of his lower half only gets stronger when he enters your space, breathing in your scent. It makes his entire body feels a tingly warmth. If for some reason you didn’t hear him open the metal door; you knew he was there from how heavy his breathing was. There’s a click as the doors lock slides into place. You’re both trapped with each other for the time being, either until Knives is satiated enough to pull away or until the end of the 48 hours. You look up from your spot on the bed, your figure drowning in the blankets and a Knives-approved book in your hands. Your eyes quickly make their way to the syringe in his hand, and combined with the locked door you're not eager to find out what’s about to happen.

You knew something was up with him as of late. The sudden avoidance, how he would insist on keeping his hand on your lower back whenever he did drag you somewhere with him (Knives usually insisted you walk behind him), and his constant staring at your body. Knives refused to personally see to your nighttime routine for the past few nights as well, only demanding you wear pajama pants and a button-up pajama shirt instead of the nightgown you sleep in.

Not that any of it should have mattered; you two weren’t a couple. Just a deranged plant and his favorite little human. Still, it was hard to ignore his strange behavior. But… watching him come through the door now, with a needle and unknown liquid inside doesn’t fill you with ease. Knives picks up on it, but he, as usual, doesn’t seem too interested in quelling your anxieties. He comes to sit on the edge of your bed, feet planted on the floor, holding the syringe up for you to clearly see.

“Nai-“ “Relax, this will only hurt a little bit.” He says, putting on his most gentle, soft facial expression. It’s hardly any different from his almost default frown, the bastard can’t even bring himself to sincerely smile. His half smile is only for himself, a boyish excitement building up inside of him. When you don’t immediately come within injecting distance, Knives yanks you by the arm to him, jamming the syringe into the side of your neck before you got any more difficult. You shriek at the stabbing pain, physically able to feel the liquid being injected into your veins, feel your muscles lose their tension. You take in multiple deep breaths, clenching your jaw. Knives finally retracts the needle, bringing you closer to hold you in a somewhat awkward position.

“There you go,” He croons, enjoying how you’re forced to relax in his arms. You were starting to press your thighs together already, biting your tongue. He lets you go as far as to rest your head in his lap while the aphrodisiac courses through your veins. The digits of your hands and feet curl into themselves, your jaw clenching and unclenching. Knives comes to pet you, hand going lower to your shoulders and upper arm. You’re warm to the touch, even through the barrier of clothing. You can feel the smooth area of his pelvis, where his genitals would- should be. There’s a pressure on the side of your head, something soft pushing against it. You sit up, acutely aware of how hard your nipples have become. From Knives’s once barren lower half were petals, white and blooming. The petals retract and meld together to be something phallic; Knives’s dick.

It’s big, long and uncut. It looks like the penis of a man; if not for how pale it is and how it’s striped with blue markings. The head has a cerulean gradient to it. It’s… certainly something. There are no veins, no pubic hairs or anything other than it’s shape that makes it identifiable as a humans genitals. Theres a particular heat to it, you can almost feel it pulsating in waves, radiating out. It’s almost hypnotic when combined with the effects of the aphrodosiac.

Knives is about to tell you to lay back on the bed so he can get this over with (as if this would be a chore and not the thing he’s been wanting to do for the past two weeks), but it seems you have your own plan. One of your hands rested on his thigh for you to steady yourself, the other wrapped around his newly showing girth. You felt it up, practically drooling at the sight. How disgusting, Knives thinks, ignoring the hypocrisy. He allows it, however, letting you slide your hand up and down his shaft. Your movements gain confidence after a while, and Knives bites the inside of his cheek to prevent any unsavory noises from escaping him. His breath hitches when he feels your tongue on the tip, giving kitten licks to his most sensitive part.

You take the entire head of his penis into your mouth, and Knives almost loses all control. The sensation is so foreign to him, hot and wet. A low whine resonates from the back of his throat, watching you go back to licking, this time across the entire shaft. Precum dribbles from the tip, and Knives thinks he’s going to die when you start to lick it off, suckling on his cock for more. Knives brings a hand to your head, the other one gripping the bed sheets. From your position, you can’t see his face, but his grunts and gasps give you a good idea of what his expression must be. “You- ah- you really are eager, aren’t you?” He breathes, letting you control your pace for the time being.

You only continue with licking at it for a bit longer, opting to take as much of him as you can into your mouth. Suckling on it, pathetic whining noises muffled by his cock in your maw. Knives’s hips twitch upward, wanting to just fuck your throat. You’re not in the ideal position for it, but it doesn’t matter to him. His hand rests on your head, and he soaks up your whining and half-protests when he begins to push your head, controlling the pace of your bobbing head.

Knives’ groans, pushing your head all the way down to take him as his hips jerk up, the cock deep in your mouth throbbing and pulsing when he cums. His cum is closer to a cool liquid, another thing separating his biology from that of a man. It’s intoxicating, but there’s so much you feel like you’re going to drown in it if Knives doesn’t get his dick out of your mouth. After a moment he does, and some of his cum drips out from your mouth as he does. You swallow what’s left, sitting upright on your haunches. Knives’ scoffs, borderline scowling as if he didn’t orgasm into you. His thumb comes to your face, wiping up the bit of cum that dribbled out, and putting his thumb into your mouth. Instinctively, you suck on his thumb, which is enough to ease the grimace on his face.

Knives’ pulls his thumb out of your mouth with a wet pop, eyeing you over. He can see your nipples beneath the cotton pajamas you’re wearing, he can smell your desire, building up between your legs and in your lower abdomen. You’ve had your fun, perhaps too much. You’re quickly pushed further up onto the bed and on your back, reminding of how much stronger the plant is than you. Knives positions himself on top of you, spreading your legs further apart. You were still squirming, trying to relieve yourself of the mounting pressure. “Nai…” A spurt of cum comes out of his dick at that, just hearing you call his name in such a breathy voice…

Knives decides to put an end to your misery, not like he can wait much longer either. With an inhuman speed he’s tearing off your clothing, grabbing your hips and aligning them upwards with his. A pathetic series of noises, gasps and whines, escape you as it all happens so fast. Before you can process it, you’re left bare beneath him save for a few scraps of cloth which are quickly discarded. Knives looks you over, the familiar sight of your nakedness. Every dip and curve of your body and the swell of your flesh, he’s seen it all before but in this context it’s all the more valuable to him. How soft and pliable you are in his hands, so willing to present yourself to him.

Cum still leaks from his cock, and Knives isn’t keen on wasting it. No, you’re going to take it, and you’ll be thankful. The head of his penis nudges at your folds, and then pushes past them into your soaked cunt. Far too wet, more than you would be if he hadn’t given you that aphrodisiac; and this was only the beginning. You let out another noise at the intrusion, your walls welcoming him and sucking his cock in. You clutch the bedsheets, Knives' hands settling on your hips and waist. He’s unsure of where to start; how to start, the books he read didn’t go into specifics- but his body and his hormones do the work for him. In and out, shallow strokes to start with that gradually deepen.

He ignores the pounding in his heart and the rush of blood in his body, the almost overwhelming instinct to pound into you as fast as possible and empty his seeds into your cunt. He’s held off for so long, he has enough control over his urges to think straight. He tries to flip the tables on this, to give himself just that bit more power. You’re beneath him, crying his name and moving your body in tandem with his. You needed him, you needed him to fuck you and grant you some relief. No, Knives wasn’t the one who was so desperate as to hump your pillows while you were at a regular check up with Conrad; never him. You were the one who came onto him; threw yourself onto his cock, it’s only right that Knives do this for you.

After all, it’s his responsibility to take care of you, isn’t it?

#millions knives x reader #knives millions x reader #knives smut #millions knives x reader smut #millions knives smut #trigun x reader #trigun x you #trigun smut #knives x you #millions knives x you #yandere knives #yandere knives x reader #yandere millions knives #yandere millions knives x reader #yandere trigun x reader #yandere trigun #_trigun #_knives

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iwaasfairy · 2 months

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ETCHED IN RED | RUST Part 2

tw. dubcon, yandere, kidnapping, mention of murder, power imbalance wordcount. 1.5k

read part 1 here or see the valentine's masterlist

millions knives x reader

Everything else has an almost imperceptible coat of dust— it’s in the air, in the way the sand and dirt creeps through the crevices and lingers. You push yourself up from the warm bed to peer through the spaces between the rickety shack. Your sister still sleeps tight, with her pillow wrapped tight under her arms— and the soft snoring of your parents in the other room also stays steady. One split second you choose against better judgment not to wake her. Have you ever seen a God?

The blanket clings to you while you stir, but slips off when you get onto your knees. A small sliver of light whips around in the distance, quiet, as a hum fills the air. It flickers distractingly through the narrow windows, breaking through the cracks in the door.

It looks almost biblical.

The light that shines above the town, as the earth rattles beneath. You softly tiptoe around the sleeping person as you rub the sleep out of your eyes, open the door to the cold midnight air. Something’s in the distance. Vague and big, it coils in the darkness as if looking for something, and a heaviness settles into your stomach. Have you ever met a God?

Without a single thought, you set off towards the tower, trying to quiet your steps so as not to attract attention. It’s not a stretch to guess that whatever it is, it’s here for your plant. One you, and all the people nearby, need. The heavy rattling, the drilling noise gets louder and louder, until you’re sure that it’s right upon the town.

You slip through the door and sprint up three steps at a time until you reach the platform, taking a single deep breath as you take in the faint glow. The plant’s tired, you know this. She’s uncurled herself just barely, face hidden within her hands— sometimes you try to reach out to her. You place your hands on the tank, press your head against the glass. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” you promise, and as if hearing you, understanding you; the beautiful leaves slowly seem to bloom a little more.

A frightening mechanic screech fills the night, and whoever wasn’t awake before, surely startles as the entire town shakes. The building with it. You stumble to your knees and turn, just in time to watch the metal roof being ripped off and the bladed, robotic arms to slither in. The man lands with no sound, and blue eyes zero in on you— as you stand to place yourself between him and the plant. The whirring appendages sprouting from his back drip in blood, and it’s only then that you can hear the screaming and crying from outside.

“You can’t take her- she’s sick,” you say, wrapping your arms around it as if in a desperate embrace. Your bottom lip wobbles in the silence, one you fill with a plea. “She’ll die if you take her.” Barely half of his face is visible from underneath the hood, but he towers, and his mouth corners flatten when you shake your head. “Please don’t hurt her.” Crying continues, as your palms heat up. As light gets brighter and brighter in the cold room, and your eyes widen.

You turn to see that the plant’s opened up, and her hands are pressed back against the glass in response to yours— heat surging through your body as you gasp. Though your body stands between him and his prize, he too drops his shoulders, and the mean snarl that was on his face vanishes. It doesn’t last long, before she tuckers out— but it’s enough for you to stare back at him in shock, mouth falling open at the stunning display. Small orbs of light still rain down around you. “The plant—” You don’t get to finish, before one of the arms wraps around you and yanks you towards him; not disemboweling you in the process. The other arms pick up the plant and pull you all out of the building, through the mess of shacks he’s destroyed.

“Wait, please! I-” you try to fight against the blades, but it’s no use. You only cut your skin open further, being dragged through the street kicking and screaming. “Stop, my family! Let me go!” Your arm is caught within a hand, as your sister hangs on with all her weight and almost pulls your hand clean off, planting her feet. She’s crying, and her eyes are bloodshot and frightened. You’re hurting. “Aw, aw!” You say her name, try to cling onto her fingers as hard as you can. Until you go blue. But it’s no fair fight— and as soon as sweat makes you slip, you’re out of her reach.

As you watch her wipe blood splatters off of her cheeks, crying out for you.

He’s moving too fast. The image of your destroyed town doesn’t stay for long enough for you to print it into your mind.

The furniture is cold when you touch them, dragging yourself around the room with a monotone sigh. Aside from that blue haired freak who glares, or the Doctor, Knives doesn’t get a lot of company. They rushed off in some state earlier, where Nai had barked at you to stay where you were— but you don’t doubt they’ll be back soon. You’ve seen what the blond can do. You’ve seen what’s left behind when someone tries to steal his precious plants. The camp is cold and metallic and clean, and you’ve learned that he doesn’t feel these things the way you do.

Instead you’re stuck in this room, and wait for the alarm to stop blaring soon. You place yourself on the well-kept leather seat, and softly press a few keys of the organ— jumping when the door slams open too violently. You cling onto the instrument as you turn, only to stare in confusion. Your mouth cracks open, and you frown. “Where’s master Knives? Are you here for the plants?”

He’s got almost the same face, but it’s not him. Hair too long, eyes too gentle. He’s got mechanical parts where Nai doesn’t— as he stands in the door disarmed. “I’m here for-”

“Vash, step aside.” The deep voice fills the room, and the golden blond aims his gun now at Nai. You can’t help it, you hurry over to his side. Knives at least, has shown that he doesn’t have the intent to harm you. This stranger however, keeps glancing between the two of you with frightening precision. Nai’s quick to pull you behind him out of direct reach, and tangles his hand with yours as you stare. They must be twins, your mind supplies. He squeezes your smaller, softer hand in his, then glances over at you. “Are you hurt?”

“N-no, I’m fine.” When you manage to get over your shock at the intrusion, you want to pout. It’s not like you trust him. He stole you, locked you up- you have every right to be angry. But still. He’s kept you from the Doctor’s experiments. And if Legato or any of the other ones had their way, you probably wouldn’t be so cared for. Dolled up. How should you understand this? You cling to his arm, as you peek your face from behind him. “What’s happening?”

The deep voice sounds again, and then the extra appendages come out gleaming in the low light, careful not to nick you in the process. “Vash is just leaving, pretty. Don’t worry.” He brushes a quick hand over your head, before pushing you down to the floor behind the couch. “Stay there.” They’re both back down the hall quicker than you can blink, leaving you behind in the otherwise empty room with only your heart thumping in your chest.

Your legs get yanked further down the bed, as almost luminescent eyes stare down at you. You wish you could say you were asleep, but Legato turned out to be right. Even master Knives has urges— that are now being inflicted upon your body as he nestles between your legs again. “Nai, promise me- I want you to go check on my family. I want to make sure they’re safe.” He’s ignoring you, circling your nipples with playful fingers before he leans down to kiss you all over. “Knives~”

After he sucks another hickey into you, he gets nose to nose with you, before dipping to kiss you there too- and biting your bottom lip as he groans. “You’re so whiny.”

“You promised. If I stayed with you… you’d take care of them. My sister and my parents will worry.”

His handsome face is always so awfully blank. In sharp contrast with the brightness of his eyes, and all that you can convince yourself to see in them. It’s so much easier to sacrifice yourself, when you know that you’re doing the right thing. You dig your nails into his shoulders, and pout. “You took the plant… All I want is for them to be okay.”

“They’re taken care of,” he mumbles robotically, before raising a brow. “I promise. Wouldn’t lie to you.” The hands instantly start roaming again, as his thighs push yours open to create more room for his hips, and the way he’s pushing inside you ever so slowly. The low groan he lets out is rumbly, cockhead stretching you around him so that your back arches. The wetness between your legs is hot, and ever since the first time, he’s wanted to be inside you as much as possible. The slick sounds fill the room as he sits back and watches his cock slide into you, squeezing your hips tight.

You cling onto him when he bottoms out, and forces another kiss onto your mouth. Whispers your name as he pulls out, and fucks back into you with a grunt. You can’t help but be grateful that master Knives isn’t all that bad.

#tw.noncon #tw.yandere #tw.death #knives million yandere #🍯honey.pot #trigun smut #dark content

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icyowl · 1 year

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NOW! Hear me out yandere vash {maybe throw in knives as the second yandere because may the reader show him human kindness or something like that} with reader like at first it's like a strange feeling to vash like ick but it started getting worse and worsening by time he know it his overprotective & possessive/obsessive over the reader and the rest is to you {And to throw in more drama to the flame make the reader related wolfwood so we have overprotective big brother! 👍} {+F!reader before I forget}

what's up!!

Now, yandere isn't my thing really..... but eh, who cares! Might as well get out of my box now and again:

Vash:

first are the thoughts. Like, he's thinking about you at all hours of the day. Food -- would you like if he got some for you? Sleep -- how are you sleeping? Are you cold or alone? Even in battle when he should be worrying about himself or others, he's only like where is she is she safe what if someone kidnaps her or takes her hostage I gotta find her help I'm fighting three bounty hunters and can't focus

At first he's a little put off because he has other things on his mind: his brother, saving the world, and staying alive, he doesn't have time for wandering thoughts. And like, why you? What is it about you that's special to him? why does he care what he does around you, or how he looks? Why is he insisting you put your tent next to his? Why does he want to offer the last bit of his food to make sure you're full? Why does he feel like he needs to see if his hair is the right kind of messy in any mirror he can find?

All it took was one time for you to wear his coat and do the dinosaur arms as a joke and Vash is gone. Now he does whatever he can to get and keep you in it: are you cold? You look cold, take my coat. It's sunny out, you should wear it to keep from getting sunburned. It restricts me, here, hold onto it for me. Oh, but I think you look so good in red. He daydreams about you in his coat. Maybe in only his coat.

It makes him feel like he's somehow got you wrapped up under his protection even if it's not really him exactly. Protective instincts go bbrrrrrrr

What was once a silly little quirk he had toward you has developed into a borderline problem. By now, he goes absolute gunslinger mode whenever someone tries to hurt you. He's pistol-whipping a guy across the face or shooting their weapon out of their hand before they can flinch or, if things get really spicy, he's even shoved the barrel into the mouth of a few guys, asking them to beg and swallow

And as Wolfwood's little sister, you bet your booty Nick and Vash are at each other's throats usually. Nick is being protective, but he also is genuinely creeped out by the way Vash looks at you. . . like he wants to devour you. More than once Vash has gotten on his last nerve and suddenly there's a six-foot-tall cross-shaped Gatling gun stabbed into the ground between you and Vash as some kind of barrier. Want a few extra holes, needle-noggin?

You've been the one unsullied thing in Nick's twisted, disgraceful life and he ain't about to let you out of his sight any time soon.

The one time they reconcile their differences is if someone manages to mess with you. Then it's on sight: Nick's got the high ground, Vash has the low ground, and suddenly the perpetrator-turned-victim has a gun to both his head and his kneecaps, or, if he's especially smarmy, right on his unmentionables. Their teamwork is breathtaking when they try.

You're the only one that can get them to back off or chill out, whether it be to strangers or each other. Occasionally Vash is so devoted and Nick is so belligerent that they end up in a flurry of fists and kicks in the sand, but in the end, they know when it comes down to it, they can rely on each other when it comes to you.

Kni

I'm not much into Kni, but I'll do my best

Doesn't like when you call him Knives. Everyone else has to, but you? NO. Kni is Kni is Kni, not Knives or Millions or psycho or anything else.

You get free reign of the entire complex. Ultimate security clearance.

Everyone knows not to step on your toes or Kni will see to it they aren't a problem for you anymore.

One time, you get roughed up by some underling and end up flat on your stomach on the ground. You try to get up, to fight back, but suddenly several bladed whips have dug into the ground around you, caging you in and protecting you from harm. You look over your shoulder to see Kni, positively bristling with anger.

Loves to run his knife-whip-things over your body. He'd never hurt you with them, he just likes touching you; using his own hands and arms feels too human.

Yeah. That's what I got. Hope you like!

#trigun stampede x reader #trigun stampede #not really yandere #protective vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #io has ideas #io answers

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writing-fanics · 1 year

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Little Taste of Humanity [Part III]

Millions Knives x [Reader x Vash]

[summary: after a failed escape attempt y/n wakes up handcuffed to a bed]

Masterlist < previous part > next part

Knives watched as they whimpered in their sleep, “Vash..” They whimpered, tears rolling down their cheeks as sweat ran down their forehead. Sniffling as they wrapped their arms around themselves, and curled up on their side.

His gaze drifted towards the bandage wrapped around their ankle, that had a few spots of blood seeping through the bandages. “Vash…” They whimpered, once again crying in their sleep.

“What parasitic creatures you humans are,” He mumbled, titling his head he stared at them as they cried in their sleep. He grinned, at them and gently caressed their cheek, causing them to recoil.

“You’re greedy and selfish creatures. That deserve to be wiped out.” He said, and smiled manically as he stared at them.

[Y/n] groans and opens their eyes, “That’s apart of human nature.” They said, glaring at Knives causing him to look at them raising his eyebrow.

“You’re right, we’re greedy we’re selfish. But that’s apart of human nature. We do what we have to do so we might survive.”

“We take those sacrifices, we become greedy when money is shoved into our faces. Cause we won’t have to worry about anything anymore.”

Knives just scoffs, “Your greed is what led to the fall of the old world.” He said, they just glared at him. Then their stomach grumbled, a groan escaped their lips. They’ve lost tracked of how long it’s been since they’ve last eaten.

Knives smiled, revealing an apple in his hand. [Y/n] looked at him and tried to reach for the apple, he stepped back causing them to fall off the bed, and groan in pain. As the chain clatters around their ankle.

“See greedy.” He says, and [Y/n] growled in response. “I’m hungry asshole what you expect?!” They shouted, and he frowned and grabbed them forcefully by the hair.

“You have a lot to say for someone who’s just a mere parasite.” He said, forcefully letting go of their hair. He then walked towards the door and took a bite of the apple, then threw it towards [Y/n]. Who caught it and began eating it, despite the fact he’d already took a bite.

…………….

Vash stared up at the night sky, something him and [Y/n] would do often. Their head would be resting against his shoulder, as they pointed out the constellations in the sky.

“And that’s the Big Dipper,” they said, pointing up at the sky. Vash smiled, as he looked at them in awe; seeing the smile on their face as they explained everything to him.

“And that’s Le-” They turned to look at him, “Vash are you even paying attention?” They asked, and he looked at them as if snapping out of the daze.

They giggled in response while he blushed, his heart skipped a beat. As they intertwined their fingers with his hand, causing Vash’s heart to pound against his chest.

“Y/n, I-” He said, and to only look over and hear snoring. They’d fallen asleep against his shoulder. He gasped, then sighed shaking his head. He planted a soft kiss on their forehead.

‘Another day’ he thought to himself.

‘another day’

“Y/n,” He said, looking up at the stars. Meryl gave Vash a sympathetic look. Ever since [Y/n] been taken Vash hadn’t been himself, even though his expression said otherwise. He’d act goofy and idiotic still throwing others off, but deep down he was hurting.

He’d lost so much as a child; his surrogate mother, and him and his brother didn’t see eye to eye, and basically fought whenever in each other’s presence. And now, Knives took someone of importance to [Y/n] and was doing who knows what to them.He was scared and worried, about what Knives might do.

#yandere!knives millions x y/n #yandere!knives millions x you #yandere!knives millions x reader #yandere!knives millions #yandere!knives million #vash our beloved #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #vash the stampede #trigun vash #x reader #fanfic #angst #headcanons #fluff #romance #tw kidnapping

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mildh4nn · 1 year

Text

VAAAAAAAAAASHU

#million knives #trigun stampede #favorite yandere evil twin

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seijorhi · 2 months

Text

Etched in Red: Rust (Part One)

Event Masterlist

Vash the Stampede x female reader

Part Two

w.c 1.4k

tw: yandere themes, canon-typical violence and death, kidnapping

There’s an old earth saying about the best way to boil a frog.

If the water’s already boiling and you drop the frog right in, it hops right out. The key, or so the story says, is to start with tepid water, then turn the heat up slowly, little by little. The poor frog, relaxed by the warming water, won’t make a fuss when the temperature starts to rise, won’t leap from the water.

Blind to the danger, that frog will sit calm and placid, letting itself steadily be boiled alive.

Has the water always been this warm?

You stare, empty eyed at the wreckage of the homestead before you. The broken bodies Wolfwood’s diligently dragging off god knows where to perform whatever rites he thinks are necessary. Smoke and the scent of gunpowder and blood linger in the air you breathe, you can taste it on your tongue.

But it’s white noise in the background. You keep thinking of the man you saw.

Well, maybe ‘man’ isn’t the right word. Half his face was cybernetic, his body twisted and warped into a weapon that mercilessly ripped through that family. You don’t doubt his humanity because of his body, you doubt it because there was nothing in his eyes. Not anger or rage, not glee or regret.

He was nothing but a tool, mindless to all but his master’s whims.

“I’m sorry.”

The words wash over you, but the blond’s touch is warm, solid as he pulls you into his chest, rests his cheek against the crown of your head and holds you, his own cybernetic arm rubbing soothingly at your back.

Why he’s apologising, you’re not entirely sure. For not getting there in time to stop it? Because it happened at all?

This isn’t his fault.

Either way, you let your arms curl loosely around his waist and bury yourself in him, eyes welling up with tears you’re sick of shedding. “I have to get her back, Vash,” you mumble.

For weeks now, you’ve imagined it. All the terrible fates that might’ve met your sister at the hands of Knives Millions. Dead. Locked in some dungeon somewhere, rotting away. Tortured. Ripped apart. Forced into servitude, humiliated, broken, beaten–

Your stomach clenches, threatening to upheave.

Experimented on.

“I need her back.”

The broad palm stroking along your spine falters, and Vash pulls back enough to meet your watery gaze. Behind his glasses, pools of impossible blue shine with concern, a flicker of something else – guilt, maybe? – bleeding through, even as he paints a small, thin smile across his face, “Hey, you promised me you weren’t gonna think like that anymore. Your sister… he won’t hurt her.”

“Stop saying that!”

Snapping at him won’t solve anything, you can’t help it though. Whatever this spiral is that you’re caught in, it has its claws in you, dragging you down into a pit of hysteria. Your breath comes quick, choppy, and all of a sudden you can’t bear his hands on you – you shove at him, stumbling back with a shuddering gasp.

“He hates us, Vash! He hates humans. I watched him kill our parents, he cut them to pieces, like they were nothing, less than dirt, and for what? Why?! And that– that thing!” you gesture wildly in the direction the gunman disappeared off to. “Do you think whoever he was, he signed up for that? Is that the best I can hope for? That if my sister hasn’t already been eviscerated, maybe he’ll lay her down on a table, slice away at her until nothing’s left but metal and blind obedience to a madman, until she’s just another tool for him to–”

You don’t get to finish the thought, Vash quick to close the distance between you, seizing your violently trembling hands in his, holding them up between you. “He won’t,” he vows. “I need you to believe me, Nai isn’t hurting her. He wouldn’t.”

But you’re too far gone for soft platitudes. You shake your head, only half aware that you’re moving at all, “You don’t know that, you can’t–” your voice cracks, another sob threatening to burst.

You hate that you’re doing this here, now; crying for your stolen sister on the site of another bloody, brutal massacre. The only mercy in this is that Wolfwood’s still off dealing with the bodies. Vash bearing witness is bad enough, you don’t think you can handle anyone else seeing you this brittle.

With a wounded noise, he lets one of your hands slip from his to brush at your tears with a gentleness that steals your breath. “Don’t cry, angel. I promise you, she’s not being hurt. Nai won’t let anything happen to her.”

A promise.

Vash promised weeks ago, earnesty dripping from every word, that he’d help you find and free your sister. At the time, you could’ve kissed him, bowed at his feet, given him anything in your power to give. No else was offering. No one else cared about some stupid girl from a nowhere town, kidnapped by a vicious egomaniac bent on eradicating humanity.

(You swore to yourself, too, that you wouldn’t hold it against him that he called that monster brother).

You trusted him then, the weight of that promise settling into your soul like a brand. Vash would help bring her home, he promised.

Vash, cradling your tear-stained cheek, peers down at you with that same striking intensity, like he’s willing you to believe they’re not throw-away words to comfort you, he means them. Your sister hasn’t been harmed. She won’t be.

Which makes you wonder, a cold thread of unease slithering down your spine, how he can promise something like that.

“… Vash, how could you possibly know that for sure?” you whisper, the sound carrying in the too quiet stillness of the homestead.

The hand you squeeze isn’t made of flesh, blood and bone – you barely notice, searching Vash’s face in turn, praying to yourself that just this once, his words are empty.

The soft, pink flush that paints his cheeks quickly turns those hopes to ash and dust.

And perhaps he senses that too, because the moment you try to step back, put a little distance between you so you can breathe, that grip of his becomes iron.

Vash wets his lips and swallows, a shallow bobbing of his throat, “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not. I’d never–” he breaks off with a strangled sounding huff, his fingers flexing around your wrist. He’s always been bright, excitable. Sunshine on a summer’s day.

Now he just looks manic. Eyes too bright, too wide. A jitteriness that sets you on edge.

“The plan was to get her out, like I promised. It’d be quicker if it was just me, I didn’t want– I couldn’t risk anything happening to you if I brought you with me. It’d kill me. Kill me. But Nai, he– she’s important to him, I think. He needs her.” Vash frowns, “I swear I was gonna bring her back to you like I promised, that’s the only reason I went, and I would’ve, you know I would’ve if I thought for a moment she was in any danger, but…”

“You saw her?”

With those sad, puppy-dog eyes fixed on you, he nods.

Something painful wrenches in your chest at the admission, and with a sharp tug to your wrist, Vash is there, his forehead pressed against yours, murmuring near frantic reassurances – excuses – as though there won’t be bruises left in his wake.

He saw her.

Vash was there, he saw her and he left her.

Bitterness cleaves at you. Betrayal. Heartbreak. Agony.

You’re a fool.

“Let go of me.” Your voice is robotic, a cold contrast to the roaring mess of emotions in your head.

If Vash hears you, he gives no indication. There’s not enough air in the room, every inch of it tainted by Vash clutching you closer, holding you tighter. Like he senses that if he loosens his grip, even for a second, you’ll disappear altogether.

“Let go of me… Vash, let me go! LET ME GO!”

You’re shrieking, pushing and shoving at him, beating your fists against his chest, and Vash looks halfway to distraught as, for a split second, his eyes flicker to focus on something just behind you. “I’m sorry, angel. I’ll make it up to you.”

The sudden, blinding burst of pain at the back of your skull comes out of nowhere. Drops you cold to the ground, and as the darkness swallows you up whole, you hear him speak again, that broken, mournful tone that tears at your heartstrings.

“I’m sorry.”

Close your eyes, little frog. Drift off. The water’s nice and toasty.

#yandere trigun stampede #yandere vash the stampede x reader #yandere vash the stampede #yandere vash #yandere vash x reader

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