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peachyloveswriting · 2 years ago

Note

What would Vash, Wolfwood, and Knives do about sick reader? Like reader knew they had been getting sick for a few days but saying stuff like "I sneezed from the dusty sand" or "I choked on my spit. I wasn't coughing. " they keep coming up with stuff to say till they have a fever and collapse.

YES. MORE FOR KNIVES. I actually really enjoy writing for knives. He's such a complicated character to get right because he hates humans and more often than not the reader is portrayed as human. His feelings are so contradictory but I love it.

You're Only Human (After all)

SUMMARY: Vash, Wolfwood, and Naï, find out that you've been hiding a sickness from them. The outcome feels like a nightmare come true.

NOTES: Vash and knives parts are very long. There's a shit ton of angst but there's also hurt/comfort. I'd say it took me 16 hrs total from start to finish and that's partially because a huge part of Kives original part got deleted and yeah... I couldn't remember some of it. Enjoy tho lol.

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Vash

Setting up camp for the night was no easy task, getting up to gather what everyone needs to sleep comfortably while helping Meryl set up her own tent. Yours always comes last and before you can even finish Roberto is asking you to help him cook. You never stop working and seize every opportunity to stay on your feet, the restlessness that comes with stagnancy kills you. Through constantly throwing yourself into work is painful and tiring, it's been even more so than usual.

"Hey kid. Come and help with this roast."

You ignore Roberto's request, too tired to even think straight much less give a coherent thought, only curling further into the backseat of the truck. In the back of your throat has settled an itch, one that's not quite there but prominent enough to make you force down a cough. It bubbles up suddenly, making you gasp for air in-between coughs. Your throat burns in pain and tenses as it stops.

Soft foot steps pad up to the open door. Meryl peeks in at you with worry before she fixes herself right. "Uh... Sorry if I'm bothering you but could you help me with my tent again?" She clasps her hands together, eagerly waiting for your answer.

Nick watches from the outside of his own tent, gazing at your still form while his hands blindly settle the cross firmly into the sand. He doesn't decide to speak until Meryl extends a hand to tap you. "I'll do it." He offers.

Meryl turns to look at him with a disgruntled smile. "Thanks?" He scoffs. "Yup. Don't mention it. And close the door while you're at it."

Meryl looks at your limp form, not wanting to close any limbs in the door she checks just to be sure before she carefully closes the door. Just before walking away she takes one last peek inside to see if she disturbed you but you haven't moved an inch. Taking a deep breath she turns to stand beside Nick while he puts her tent together.

The night carried on and with it came Vash. To everyone else the night went on as usual but to Vash, a part of him was missing. When he looked for your tent he was sad to find that it hadn't been set up at all. This only worried the blonde further. His stomach would churn with unease the further he looked around. There was no sign on you anywhere. Just as he was about to peek around the truck, a soft finger tapped his shoulder. He turned to find Meryl gazing up at him.

"If you're looking for them..." She points to the truck. "They've been there all evening."

Hia gaze follows her pointed finger to the backseat of the truck. Offering her thanks, he rushes over to the truck and pulls open the door. You lay curled up on the farthest side away from him, your face hidden and tucked away in your arms. Face softening, Vash climbs into the empty space by your feel and closes the door behind him, ensuring privacy.

"Mayfly?" He leans over curiously, his hand slipping under your chin to lift your face into view. You grimace, your head swimming in agony and dizziness. "Are you okay?" His cries crease in concern.

Lazily, you lift a hand to swat him away. Setting your head back on your arms he lifts the back of his hand to your forehead. "You feel hot. Maybe you should get out of the car. Get some fresh air." His hand brushes over your head in a soothing manner.

"I'm fine." He smiles at your half-hearted grumble.

"If you say so..." Swiftly grabbing your shoulder, Vash scoops you up into his arms with ease and scoots to press his back to the door. He spreads his legs and leans back just enough for you to lay comfortably on his chest. You're just lethargic enough that you flop against him, no resistance whatsoever.

He stayed with you until the morning, upset when he kept waking up to you practicing choking in your sleep. Every time he raises a hand to your forehead it burns his skin. You were certainly running a fever of some kind or at the very least sick, he's never seen you so lethargic before. You've always stayed on your feet, working yourself to the brink, till' your legs won't carry you anymore. This might just be one of those spells but you never left the truck. Even when he got out to help everyone pack up you didn't move.

When everyone gathered inside the truck, you didn't move, allowing yourself to get shoved around to make room for Wolfwood and Vash. As Vash climbed in, he scowled at the priest who shoved you about as if you were some object he could just discard. Gently scooping you far enough to slide in. he laid you back down in his lap and held you close, allowing you to get some rather comfortable rest. Hours later, you woke up in a daze. The heat consuming you from head to toe is unbearable, breathing comes harshly.

You can see legs moving through the sand below you as you wake up but very quickly realize they're not yours. You begin to feel hands under each of your knees and your body pressed against another. Below you, Vash's coat flaps into view, the edges of it tugging about with each step.

You groan, dizzy from the heat and disoriented. Your head is reeling about, begging to go back to sleep and crying at the same time. Every part of you aches and your throat feels like it's been grated like fine cheese.

"You're awake!" Vash turns his head to look at you nuzzled into his shoulder. Swallowing harshly, you lift your head to glance at him. "Where are we?"

You cringe at the sound of your own voice, sounding like a decrepit frog that smokes cigarettes. It feels like you haven't drank in forever and your stomach rumbles angrily. Suddenly Vash jumps to keep you up on his back, you whine at the sudden jolt and dig your hands into the chest of his shirt. He grimaces at your painful response.

"You okay?" Forcing yourself to right yourself, you begin to wriggle in his hold. "M' fine. Put me down."

Vash's brows creased with worry. "Are you sure? You've-"

Pushing from his hold you fall into the scorching sands. Hissing in pain, you jump to your feet jostling your brain into a wave of vertigo. Your hand shoots out to find purchase while your vision grows dark. Tingles flood your body as a low dull pain pulses in your head. Two arms scoop you up into security, keeping you from falling back into the hot sands. "Whoa!"

Vash steadies you as you lean against him limply for help. "Slow down. You're not well." His hands move to your shoulders. A long drawn out couch slips from your lips. You shake away from his hole to walk towards the group, they're way ahead of you occasionally glancing back to stop and wait. "I'm fine."

You trudge forward at your own discretion and Vash follows closely behind. "Let me carry you Mayfly." A hand comes to rest at the small of your back. Beneath you, your legs shake horribly, threatening to lose your balance. It's hard just to push forward in the sand without wincing from the sore ache that settles into your bones. "I'll be fine, Vash."

The desert becomes distant, a cold covering your whole body like ice. "I'm..." The sky began to darken, blotting out the light from the suns and the sand beneath you.

"oh!" Slipping forward, Vash stretches an arm over your chest to stop your falling body from collapsing in the sand. The over exertion is obvious and your body makes it hard to deny. Vash can see it clearly, the bleary look in your eyes as he scoops your bridal style in his arms. Gazing down at you with an unreadable expression, he shakes his head. "How long has this been going on?"

You roll your head into his chest, shielding your eyes from the suns. Breathing in to speak you choke out a cough, you can hardly catch a breath in-between. When you finish, your head falls back softly. "A few weeks ago." You mumble weakly.

A frown settles upon his lips as he looks ahead at the horizon, the glare on his shades stops you from seeing his eyes. Those are always a dead give away for how he's feeling. Those shades work wonders for him.

Taking a shaky breath, you relax in Vash's arms. "Don't worry. I'll take you to a doctor. You should rest until then."

You shake your head. "Won't you get tired of carrying me?"

He looks back down at you smiling softly. The smile reaches up to his eyes, softening his gaze and wrinkling the corners of his eyes. "I will. It's okay, I'm supposed to take care of you Mayfly. Just rest." His voice is so soft he's almost whispering. It makes a heat swirl in your chest as you close your eyes.

"I'm sorry Vash."

He chuckles. "It's alright my love."

Wolfwood

Sweat beads along your forehead as you follow the giant wandering cross in front of you. Your wavering pace slows you down even more the longer you push forward. It's so far away now. When was the last time you even had water? God, you can't remember. Trudging through the sands makes the ache in your already sore leg grow worse, you can barely lift your feet from the ground.

Breathing is a labor, it burns your lungs with each breath you take, the longer you go without calling for Nick's help the more dire this starts to become. The dull ache in your head is pounding with the intensity of the suns and your body grows weaker. You regret lying to Nick before he ran out of gas, you knew them you should have said something but the situation was bad enough. You thought saying something then would only cause more worry to settle in Nick's mind and you didn't want to burden him.

Suddenly, searing hot pain blossoms on your exposed skin and sand hugs your body as it lands. Your mind is foggy and blank, you watch Nick grow smaller in the distance not even bothering to look back at you. You rasp his name but your throat doesn't allow you to call any louder than a simple talking tone. After traveling with Nick everywhere, you never thought it would end like this, laying in the sand pathetically sick because of your irrational fear and Inability to ask for help.

Suddenly, in the distance. The space between you and Nick closes in. He runs towards you, tossing the cross all about on his back. Distantly you can hear him call your name for the first time ever, he's only ever called you by silly nicknames. You don't give much care to mutter a response and sink into the sand.

Panic squeezes in Nick's chest and he drops his cross beside him to tend to you. Grabbing your shoulders he turns you over and sits you up in his lap. "C'mon. Don't fall asleep." He begs.

You cough up a laugh. The concern in his face grows even more severe with your seeming obliviousness to the situation. "I'm fine..." You want to shrug him off so bad but even moving feels like hell.

Heart pounding in his chest, Nick swallows harshly "You haven't been fine since we got stranded, have you?" The back of his hand feels freezing as he presses it to your forehead. You grimace with discomfort and whine. "I'm not stupid." Carefully, he stands with you in his arms.

As he turns to walk away you spot his cross on the ground. "Your cross..." Nick acknowledges it with a hum. His face is stern, pointedly staring straight again with his lips pressed into a thin line. "I'll get it back later. You need medical attention first."

You smile. "So you're saying you care?"

His grip on you begins to tighten. *Of course I do! Don't fucking scare me like that again." He growls.

"Sure." Sleep tugs your eyes closed, pulling at your weight the less conscious you become. Nick glares down at you, squeezing you tighter against him. He feels your body grow limp in his arms, heart dropping to his stomach.

"What did I say? Don't fall asleep." You're jostled awake with a groan. "Just let me sleep. Please."

"And if you don't wake up again?" He's become eerily nonchalant. "What then?" The edge in his voice shakes with worry, tracing the thoughts of what might unfold after your death. His chest aches at the thought of losing you and he won't say it but he's scared of losing you. "It'll kill me..."

Nick will never admit it but you do more for him then he lets on. Your company alone could last him a lifetime, your smile, it could make him happy forever. Everything about you fixes everything bad about him and he's not ready to give that up. Especially not over some silly illness. Hearing his words and understanding what he means, you coo quietly and rest your hand over his heart. Your touch quells his fraying nerves.

"I drag you down Nico." Your heart weighs heavy in your chest. "It might be better if you leave me behind."

Stomach clenching wearily, Nick grunts. "No." Venoms laces his tongue. "You idiot. I love you too much to do that." You gaze at him in surprise. "Don't look at me like that. I said what I said. You should just be quiet and conserve your energy."

Hesitant, you gaze at him for a few moments longer before letting your head rest carefully against his chest. "I'll get you help. Just hang in there."

Millions Knives

Sitting beside Naï, he plays the piano. Quietly, you watch his fingers dance over the keys as they belt out a dramatic yet familiar melody. It strikes the soul as misunderstood, you know it well. Many times has Naï played this song in your presence. You've heard everything he plays, as his words command you stay by his side under his watchful eye. Many of his followers take this as a sign of mistrust, a show that the human race will never take his attention. Naï has said to you before: "Hear me and believe my word. My trust in you is not misguided, I only wish to protect you from those who wish to harm you."

Despite hating humans, Naï knows his fair share about the ways they operate. He understands the delicacy of your body and handles it with immense measure and meticulous care. He keeps you near to prevent his followers from making a move to take your life. For him, he even strives to understand more about you, to protect you. His care for you and your well-being runs deep, although Naï doesn't quite understand why it's you he's so careful about, he understands that you make him feel something.

Naï, even in his own strange way, shows that he cares for you. He appreciates the company you keep him and he's not foreign with thanking you. Just the same your appreciation runs deep, he offers you friendship, safety, food, and a place to lay your head at night. Above all else, his friendship and company you find the most rewarding, to know so much about him is to see under his facade. Knowing that underneath all of those sharp blades, a gentle, and caring man resides. Only sparing himself to his closet confidants.

Beautifully, the keys fade into an epilogue, an ending to the story it once opened with. You find that as you watch with a smile your lungs begin to burn. A cough tries to bubble its way past your lips, it takes your breath away and chokes you on the way out. Turning away to cover your mouth, you find it hard to catch your breath and tears blur your vision. The melody that had once carried through the room now falls silent in the stead of your sputtering.

Worry tingles in Naï's chest as you gasp for air beside him, he's unsure of what to do or what this is. His knowledge might be expansive but he still has so much to learn, about sickness, potential threats, the many causes of death. His lack of awareness makes his heart quell with concern and his mind reel is fear.

"Are you alright?" His voice carries through the harmonious room. Tentatively his hand hovers over your back.

You wipe the tears from your eyes to see his angelic face clearly. "It's okay Naï, just choked on my spit."

Cautiously, he looks you over with care checking for abnormalities along your external appearance. Your eyes are dark and lightly sunken, despite noticing this fast Naï goes along with your word and nods in earnest. You feel scrutinized under his gaze, like he's judging every part of you without ever saying a word.

"Choked?" He queries. "Is this choking, dangerous?" His brows crease with worry.

"Well..." Recalling gasping for air, the onslaught of coughing as it keeps you from breathing in deep enough to catch your breath makes you choose your next words with ease. "Yes. It can be, depending on the circumstances. But it can also be prevented"

Intensely focused, Naï nods. "How can this be prevented?" His absolute attention is always divulged onto you anytime you talk, it's endearing, the way he listens to every detail. Nothing you've said has ever been forgotten by him, he remembers everything, making it a point to bring it up when useful later on. It tells you that he cares about what you have to say, knowing that makes your heart soar.

"Drinking a glass of water, or anything of likeness, then there's the heimlich. You should ask Con'rad about that if you want to understand it." Although many of the things that Naï knows about humans have been acquired through you, there are many things you can't find the energy to explain. Best someone else with more knowledge explains it to avoid any confusion.

"I'll go visit him then." Naï stands. "Come. I'll escort you to the room." Gently, you hold his outstretched hand, letting it guide you to your feet. He holds it gingerly as he pulls you alongside him. His hand is soft and warm, inhumanely so, you find comfort in his warmth.

The more time chugs along the more you begin to realize you've fallen I'll, coughing spells out of nowhere, extreme fatigue, loss of appetite. The coughing grows worse with intensity, burning your sore throat, your body wastes energy faster, and waking up in the morning becomes a difficult task. For longer times you would lay in bed seeking the comfort of your companion, Naï, despite hiding your growing illness from him. He's buying into what you told him, though it won't last for very long. If he's really that worried he'll seek the knowledge of Con'rad once again.

He knows your habits even down to the smallest details, including your sleep schedule. Though sleep is the only time he lets you spend alone, that's only in his room, the only ones allowed inside are you and him. As far as his knowledge goes, since you last went in about a day ago, no one has bothered to enter. Not even Naï himself would go to see you. He figured you only needed a little alone time before you might come out again to grace him with your company. The time rolled around for you to come out but the door never opened, Naï waited in anticipation, trying to stace off the minutes to spare you time.

The paranoia got to him before you could.

The whole time you've been inside he's only let the door out of his sight once, for only a short amount of time. Very few people would dare enter knowing what punishment would await them if he ever found out but just the thought of someone going in and hurting you... It makes his blood boil. He paces just outside with worry and frustration beginning to build just beneath the surface. He has to know you're okay, he has to hear you speak... No. No, he needs something more... He has to see you physically. Otherwise, he might just lose his mind wondering what awaits him inside.

Eager to finally see your face again, to hear your voice and feel your touch, he pushes the door open. Eyes scouring the darkness for your form he finally spots you laying still beneath the covers of his bed, you make no sound as the door closes and you stay still even as he says your name. In his chest, his heart begins to pound wildly, sending the rest of his body into a frenzy of feelings.

He rushes to the bedside, a singular blade extending to turn the lights on. The darkness cowers away at the flick of a switch and your form is revealed amongst his mattress. Almost stripped bare of your clothes you lay unmoving, almost as if the life from inside you has been drained. Chest straining, Naï climbs over top of your body lowering his head to your chest, your skin feels cold against his ear as he listens for a heartbeat.

Just underneath your delicate skin beats the rhythm of your life, it beats on even as you lay utterly still. Naï can feel his shoulders relax, the sound of your heart telling him that you're indeed still alive, but as he pulls away to further examine you he knows something's not quite right. it makes his stomach churn with unease. Your skin tone seems off, like something's not quite the same as it was before.

As softly as he can, Naï shakes your body. After the first movement he expects you to come to life with a groan but you don't move. If your heart is still beating, why won't you wake up?

"My flower, wake up. You've slept long enough. I need your company by my side." He shakes you harder this time. "Petal, wake up. I demand it." He tries to sound like he normally does when addressing everyone else but he can't seem to find it in himself to truly yell at you, to demand something of you. Especially not when you're stripped of your freedom at this moment.

Naï's throat tightens, his brows creasing with worry and fear. He's so confused, you usually wake up when he calls for you but now he's got nothing. It scares him, knowing just how fragile you really are, it aside now that he rushes you to Con'rad.

Before he parts to the lab, he envelopes your exposed body in his cloak and carries you in his arms. Nothing like this takes more than the blink of an eye, Con'rad barely even has time to process his master's sudden appearance. Everything is thrust at him at once, the fear and confusion that riddles Naï's face when he presents you to Con'rad, how he begs for him to find out what's wrong, to fix you.

Con'rad frowns at your unconscious body as he takes you from his master's arms. "Careful! Don't hurt them." Naï warns.

Con'rad can only cast him a glance before he sets you down on a table, he collects his supplies needed to check you over and watches as Naï retracts the cloak that is wrapped so tightly around your body.

To plants, a decade is only supposed to feel like a day. So why did Naï feel like it had already been years when it was only minutes. He stared at you intently, waiting for you to wake up, willing you to do something. But you didn't move at all. Naï was anxious from tip to bottom, so to quell his nerves Con'rad began explaining things to him.

"Like we discussed, humans are susceptible to many things, illness being one of them. Should a person go an extended amount of time without medication or medical attention, it can cause death. This happens to be the case with your friend. You're lucky you found them when you did Knives. I can still run this IV to get the right fluids in check. After, you can take them back to your room, the IV has to stay in until it's empty though." He eyes the bleach blond from the corner of his eyes as he tapes the IV to your arm. "Again. You're lucky. They should recover soon. But they'll need plenty of rest."

Naï steps away from the wall he had leaned on, the blades slither out from behind his back and circle you carefully until they meld into his cloak once more. Content, he carefully picks you from the table with ease, using another metal appendage to grasp the IV bag.

"Thank you." Naï bows his head to Con'rad in thanks. Before he can reply Naï is gone again just as fast as he appeared.

Returning back to the privacy of his room, Naï gently sets you at the edge of the bed where he could rest the IV bag beside you. Leaving you swaddled in his cloak, Naï climbs up the bed behind you. For a moment he's hesitant to touch you, like it's the wrong thing to do but he pushes forward. Softly laying an arm over your waist, he pulls you flush against him, his face tucked into the back of your neck. He would lay here until you woke, until then, Naï would relish in the feeling of your body against his and find comfort in your presence by his side.

He might lecture you when you wake up, or inspect you thoroughly for any other sickness, but he also might enjoy your waking company for a moment before he does anything else.

#vash imagines #vash imagine #vash x you #vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #millions knives x you #millions knives x reader #knives x reader #nicholas wolfwood x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader

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anyasathenaeum · 1 year ago

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Not really nsfw but a crack-ish fic where Knives is trying to kidnap/threaten Vash's s/o and they just tell him "I fucked your brother, shitlips" and he starts arguing with them (they keep saying it) for at least 30 minutes until Vash shows up.

A/N: Okay this just made me burst into laughter, what a chaotic idea. I LOVE it. Sorry it's short but it's my first ever crack-fic

Warnings: MINORS DNI, Explicit mentions of sex, This is Absolutely Not Serious™, please enjoy chaos and Knives getting annoyed

"You will obey me, or else, I will-"

"You'll what? You won't do anything because jokes on you, I already slept with your brother," You immediately cut Knives off, grinning a bit maniacally at him.

Knives' eyes widened and he just stared at you for a moment.

"What?"

"I slept with your brother," You repeated, grinning even more maniacally. Despite you clearly being in a position of vulnerability, tied up and restrained, you were loving this and decided if you were gonna be unhinged, you would push the envelope as far as you could.

"You... what?"

Knives continued to just stare at you, confusion and lack of understanding clear in his pale eyes.

You let out a borderline-unhinged laugh, "What aren't you getting here, buddy? I. Slept. With. Your. Brother. I fucked Vash, which was amazing, by the way! I'm really glad we finally slept together, it took FOREVER for him to get the hint!"

Knives just rubbed his eyes with his hand and sighed exasperatedly, trying to keep himself calm and still maintain his intimidating facade, "As I was saying, you-"

"Fucked Vash, you betcha I did! Many times, actually!"

Oh, this was getting fun. You wanted to see how annoyed you could get Knives, partly out of the want to just frustrate and irritate him, and partly because you knew Vash would definitely be on his way to save you.

Knives scowled at you and just looked down at you as he got close to your face, anger clear in his features.

"Would you shut up about-"

"Fucking Vash? Never. And trust me, after the kind of sex we had? I'm NEVER shutting up about it ever again."

Knives let out an exasperated yell, "Are you kidding me?! Stop talking about sleeping with my brother!"

"Four times, Knives! Four orgasms in the span of ten minutes, I mean, what kind of man can pull that off?! It was impressive, I felt like I had no bones left in my body, and-"

"ENOUGH!"

Knives bellowed loud enough to actually silence for you, but it didn't wipe away the grin on your face. You couldn't help but stifle a laugh as you saw how red Knives' face was and how annoyed he was.

"What, jealous you aren't getting laid, Knives? I must say, the whole 'murdering the human race' vibe you've got going on might be the reason."

You couldn't believe you were pushing this far, but all your shame was out the window now - it was all or nothing at this point.

"I swear, if you don't stop talking about- about-," Knives spluttered angrily, but you immediately interjected before he could get too far.

"What? Sex? Are you so shy that you can't even say the word, Knives?" You teased mercilessly.

"Why are you two talking about sex?"

Both you and Knives turned to see Vash standing there, looking extremely confused and a bit of an amused expression on his face despite his gun being drawn.

"Get them out of my sight," Knives immediately snapped, just about throwing you across the room at Vash, "I give up. I never want to see them again, they're useless to me. Both of you, leave now, before they start talking about... about..."

"Sex?"

"OUT!"

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novasintheroom · 11 months ago

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Can you imagine Knives finding out about you? You, who travels with his brother, and dare taint him with your presence? How dare you even consider yourself worthy to walk with Vash.

He watches you from a distance. Through Zazie. Through Legato. Through word of mouth as his fumbling little brother chases ghosts across the wastes. You trail him, feed Vash your lies, your pity. And what a pity his brother is, truly. But the white hot rage that blooms in him like a crackling flower takes place when he finds out you're an item. A pair. Lovers. He could tolerate your comradery with Vash, but only Knives can love his brother - humanity is too dirty with greed and pride to make room for love.

So Knives takes you.

He isn't sure why he doesn't kill you when his minions drag you kicking and screaming to JuLai. For all the racket you cause, he should have. More than a few henchmen come back with blackened eyes and missing teeth from trying to feed you. But something in him - the dark, twisted part that is so consuming - enjoys the idea of toying with you.

He wants you to see what you're messing with. Who he is, why Vash is so afraid of you being in his clutches. But there's also a part of him, small and never acknowledged, that wonders what draws his brother to you, out of all the millions of humans that have been and are on the planet - why you?

You become something of a pet to him. A metaphorical chain and leash to your neck, as he strings you along with promises of more freedom if you behave. You follow him around, rather than his brother. Watch as he brings in more and more dying Plants and revive them through his own DNA. And you ask questions. Lots of them. Knives finds he enjoys answering them, unintelligent and mindnumbing as they are.

He would never admit to enjoying your company. But he plays the piano for you. Watches you watch him. The intelligence in your eyes he will never acknowledge. Slowly, he comes to understand why Vash keeps you around. The way you walk. The lilt in your voice as you ponder his grand plan. How your lips move. And the first time you smile at him - genuinely? - he makes a hasty exit as his heart beats faster and his face flushes. He tries to get you to smile more often, but it is hard - you are still only a pet, after all.

Eventually, you make an escape. The perfect timing, the perfect moves, everything. And Knives finds himself going near mental at your disappearance. You cannot go back to his brother - you just can't. You are his now, his pet, his human. But despite his best efforts, you are gone like the wind. Not even tracking his brother brings up anything. You learned your lesson, and are not putting Vash in any danger...for now.

But Knives knows humans. And you will return to Vash in time. And when you do, he'll be ready to take you again.

You belong to him, after all.

#knives my beloathed #i hate him but he's a fun character to play with #trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #nai x reader #millions knives x reader #vash x reader #NOT plantcest #pls for the love of pete dont see this as plantcest in any way shape or form #nova writes #knives x reader #tristamp

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fruitsoxs · 1 year ago

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What you wake up to "the morning after" ;;

Mostly wholesome with a little bit of NSFW in knives-- nothing too saucy.

Vash:

The clingiest sleeper you have ever met.

When you wake up, all of your limbs are intertwined and he's snoring super loudly.

He'll probably cling onto you and whine if you try to pry yourself out of his grasp.

When he wakes up, he'll pepper your face with kisses

He'll probably wanna cuddle in bed all morning and talk to you

Oh my God he's also the type to give you his shirt to wear around

He'll go absolutely feral to see you in his clothes

No matter what, he'll make sure you're comfortable and happy

Wolfwood

Not a super clingy sleeper, but he does seek out warmth

You'll probably wake up with his arm draped around your waist, and your back pressed against his chest

He'll wake up first.

Wolfwood will probably take a moment to just lay there with you in his arms, and appreciate this quiet moment

Then he'll wake you up by giving you soft kisses along the back of your neck

"Mornin' hun"

Oh my God his groggy morning voice is absolutely devine

He'll probably just hold you in his arms and kiss your shoulders and neck for a second

It might get saucy, because he cannot keep his hands off of you

Meryl

This girl sleeps like a freaking maniac

Limbs in every direction, kicking, slapping, talking

You'd wake up with her completely sideways, legs draped over you

But it's okay cause she's cute

Will apologize for her sleeping habits until you kiss her a bunch and tell her it's okay

She'll probably lay in bed with you for awhile and talk

She'll be the first to ask if this is a common thing, if you're in a relationship, or if this is a one night type of deal. She really values communication

She'll be understanding no matter what, but will be pretty disappointed if it was a one night only type of deal

If you want to pursue a relationship then...she'll take you on a little breakfast date

No joke, immediately she'll tell you to get dressed and take you out to a cute little diner to eat some greasy breakfast and talk

Knives

He'll leave

Jk jk

You'll probably be pretty sore in the morning if you catch my drift. Covered in bite marks and bruises for sure

This man likes it rough and you cannot convince me otherwise

You'll wake up alone and initially panic

But when you hear the sound of shuffling around in the kitchen you'll calm down

He probably woke up before you on purpose, so he could make you some food

Tells you it's just so you can regain your energy for round two, but he's totally doing it because he really cares

And it's a delicious meal?? So yummy??

If you walk out into the kitchen in his clothes, you better be prepared for him to pick you up and immediately begin making out with you on the counter, food be dammed

He also goes feral seeing you in his clothes, but his feral is...not as innocent lol

He likes seeing you all marked up too

Oh...and you don't really have the option of this being a one time thing

Your his now lol

A little bonus;; when he first wakes up, he'll turn over and watch you sleep for a second. He thinks you look beautiful in the morning. He finds himself relaxing, maybe even smiling?? And before he gets up he'll lean over and kiss your forehead. A little moment of softness that nobody will ever know about

#wolfwood x reader #nicholas d wolfwood x reader #vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #knives x reader #trigun x reader #meryl x reader #trigun headcanons

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wreckmetoji · 2 years ago

Text

Don’t Call Me Friend

A fic in which you find a cynical man desperately needing medical attention

↳ Millions Knives/Reader

content warning. gender-neutral pronouns, afab reader, mild overstimulation, unprotected sex, profanity, shameless smut, slight fluff, alien genitalia, oral (m!receiving), fingering, creampie, knives has never seen a pussy in his life, probably missing some tags but it’s 8 in the am and im tired

this is a fic trade piece dedicated to @strbrmlk! Go show them some love, they have lots of Knives content!

minors DNI

8.7k words

The light was unlike anything you had ever seen. It was cataclysmic, swallowing a city whole and whoever dared to remain, and even from so far away the shockwave winded you and made your eyes burn. Bright scorching purple, a light so pure and refined you had half a mind to think it was cast down from heaven itself. A shaky sigh pushed from your lips, shoulders sagging at the weight of the realization the city you were heading to had just been completely leveled, now nothing but a crater.

Perhaps you would take advantage of the night and keep traveling. Your bones ached, legs begged you to stop and rest, but now there was no refuge. You had to persist. Fuck, how far away was the next city, the voice in the back of your mind nagged as you began packing up your few belongings. You were nearly out of supplies, running dangerously low on water and even worse off for food. It was fine, everything would be fine, you always managed to scrape by no matter how dire or desperate.

With a low grumble, you hiked your bag over your shoulders, adjusting the straps before spinning on your heel and making your way back. Only upon glancing over your shoulder one last time, did you see a second impact several yards away. It was smaller, much smaller, and you would have missed it had you not seen the plume of sand that flew into the air as a result. Was it rubble left over from the blast? Had anything managed to survive that? Curiosity got the better of you, sliding down and climbing over dunes hastily to see what had landed so close. Maybe, if you were lucky, it was some intact supplies. Wishful thinking, maybe.

Upon reaching whatever- no, whoever- had landed, your hands flew up to your mouth as you gasped. A body, unidentifiable, completely burnt and scorched to a crisp, missing flesh in his arms and face. You inched closer, tiny steps carrying you nearer as you gave him a good glance over. Usually the sight and smell alone would leave you gagging, but you were compelled, maybe they were alive?

A slow rise and fall of their chest was all you needed, luck be on their side. Not on yours however, considering your survivors guilt would eat you alive if you had just left the poor man, so now not only were you stuck trekking across a barren desert with little to no supplies, you were doing so with a dying man that was in desperate need for medical attention you were most certainly not qualified to execute. Still, you did your best to wrap him in the comfort of your sleeping bag, tactfully tying it up with some spare rope and wrapping around your waist and arms. The chances of him surviving were less than slim, but you would be damned if you didn't at least try to save his life.

This conclusion nearly killed you, several times throughout your trek back to the small town you came from did you encounter obstacle after obstacle. Hungry vultures preying on the smell of death, inconspicuous bandits waiting around every rock and dune, and the fact you hadn't had a crumb of food or drop of water the entire way. At some point you must have started hallucinating, because you swear you could see the burnt skin on the stranger's face stretch in some unexpressed emotion when you poured the last droplets of water in his mouth. Regardless, the sight of the town flags waving in the wind was enough to nearly bring you to tears. Glancing back at your injured traveling companion, you huffed out a relieved sigh, whispering, "We'll get you some help, friend. Don't worry."

As it turned out, medical professionals were just as shocked as you to see someone in such horrible condition to still be living and breathing, and even responsive. Perhaps you weren't hallucinating when you saw him move earlier.

It took hours to get him in a bed, wrapped in bandages and gauze, leaving you to sit in the tiny room with him and sweat over the quadruple digit medical bill resting in your hands. No good deed goes unpunished, you thought to yourself, gently sighing and reclining in the bedside chair next to the mysterious man. You had money, sure, maybe enough to put a down payment and work the rest off over the next couple weeks running odd jobs around the small town. Maybe you could borrow a car and make some money off of supply runs, now that July was destroyed you could imagine They were just as desperate to help as some off-the-map backwash towns.

Movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention, seeing a tenderly gauze wrapped arm shift, attempting to raise up with weak urgency. You stood from your chair, sliding onto your knees beside the bed, resting your hand as tenderly as you could on him. "Hey, it's okay," You called out, to which you could see him tense ever so slightly, "It's okay, you're all patched up. Don't be afraid, you're in good hands. I promise."

Recovery was speedy, the doctors had mentioned. The mystery man was making amazing progress, and the speed in which his scorched skin was healing was inhuman. What would have taken months, years, if at all, was taking less than weeks. Those weeks you spent working at a local baked goods shop during the day, and a bar at night, keeping you endlessly busy and then some. Still, though, you would find time at the end of every shift to slip by the medical clinic in which the mystery traveler was stationed at, sitting with him for a bit and talking. It was odd, you noted, telling someone so much about yourself, the things you're interested in, all the way from your name to your favorite book you've managed to forage out of the odd pawn shop. It was odd having someone know so much about you, and you didn't even know what they looked like, who they were, how they sounded.

Still, you liked to think he enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his, even if he couldn't say anything.

The day you could no longer keep up with the payments for his care was the day the weight on your shoulders tripled. The nurses were empathetic, stressing over the steps you would need to take if you were to do it yourself, but emphasized the clinic wasn't a charity. Only slightly concerned one of the nurses mentioned he did have to be sedated nearly every time they changed his bandages, or he would put up too much of a fight, how the hell were you going to get sedatives? In all, you understood, and part of you knew this would be where you ended up, considering two minimum wage jobs could only get you so far. At least now instead of exorbitant medical fees, you could house him with you in your shitty little rental. Now you could see him more often too, you just hoped that his bandages would be fine through the day, or maybe you would have to start taking your lunch breaks to come home and tend to him. He was your responsibility, after all, and you had made peace with that.

Honestly, you were expecting the first day to be the worst. You stood from your kneeling position beside your bed in which the man was currently occupying, taking a deep breath and mentally going over all your steps on top of he puts up a fuss, don't be surprised. The second your hand made contact with his covered shoulder, he flinched, and you mimicked the reaction, squeaking a quiet, "Sorry! I should have said I was going to touch you." You sighed again, resting the supplies on the bed. "I've never done this before, so... Please be patient with me. I'm just trying to help, friend."

Unsure if maybe it was a familiar voice, or your reassuring words, but he definitely wasn't a nightmare like the nurses mentioned he would be. You unwrapped, washed, put on the required prescription ointment, and then re-wrapped both of his arms, quickly moving to his head. Your fingers hesitated, hands hovering over his neck for a moment. You could still see his scorched face, the missing skin, and showing bone. Still, it had to be done. After steeling yourself, and verbalizing where you were going to be touching next, you began to work the bandages from around his neck, then his jawline, slowly revealing him to you.

It was a sight you didn't think you could have ever prepared yourself for. You'd been told he was making a speedy recovery, not a freakishly inhuman recovery, but the skin on his face had nearly completely healed over. The skin was fresh and stretched and definitely not an accurate representation of the man he once was, and the voice in the back of your head silently wondered if it would scar like that, but his eyes. You couldn't stop the quiet gasp that left your mouth as your hands dropped, his right eye being revealed to you. Despite the wounds, the scaring, he was beautiful, even as he fixed you with a confused glare. "Oh," You found yourself saying, cheeks ruddy and thoughts scrambled at the way he stared at you, "S-Sorry, I just- I wasn't expecting..."

Unable to finish your sentence, your hand reached up instinctively to touch at the healed patch of skin at his jaw. Turquoise gaze shot down, hand flying up to intercept your course of action, snatching at your wrist in a tight hold. You couldn't will yourself to be shocked, or scared at the amount of strength behind his grip, only staring at his exposed eye with silent wonder. Finally, you whispered, "Sorry... You're just... Your eyes are very beautiful. Please let me change the rest of your bandages?" To your surprise, he did, his eyes glancing out the window as you removed and replaced his bandaging. When you asked if he would prefer to have the bandages off or over his eyes, he didn't reply, only continuing his hardened forlorn gaze out into the streets below. So, you decided for him, leaving his eyes uncovered. It was a hardened decision to leave him a stack of bandages to change whatever was under the waist and above the thigh, not wanting to impede on his privacy more than you already had.

After you finished up, you sighed, standing and cracking your back. "I have to go to work now, bills don't pay themselves. There's some pre-made meals in the fridge, and some bottled water as well," You smiled at him, his gaze refusing to meet yours. You took note of the slightly disgusted scrunch of his face, your lips curling in a sad, empathetic smile. "Please... Make yourself at home. What's mine is yours." You gathered up the used bandages, throwing them away, shuffling about for a bit, before leaving for your day.

When you came back on your lunch break, you took note that he hadn't eaten anything. You would have found it odd, if not for everything else that surrounded him in his shroud of mystery.

Life continued like this, and even if you were working yourself to the bone and absolutely exhausted at the end of every day, you found satisfaction in the recovery of your anonymous guest at your hand. It was enough to keep you going, knowing someone needed you. Even if sometimes you caught his frustrated glares, or looks of disgust out of the corner of your eye, you found it hard to take them personally. You wouldn't exactly be thrilled to be in his position, and accepting help was difficult for some people. Nevertheless, every scowl and glower he gave you was met with that same sympathetic smile, brows upturned, radiating nothing but unending kindness and compassion. You couldn't pinpoint when, unsure exactly how it came to be, but his dirty looks became less and less, slowly being replaced by what could be misconstrued as disinterest, but there was something else. Curiosity, maybe?

"Okay," You called over your shoulder, sliding your shoes on at your front door, "I'm headed to work now! I'll be home a bit later than usual, I need to pick up groceries, so if there's anything you want I- I..." You patted down your pockets, brows furrowing at the realization you had misplaced your wallet at some point in your rush to get ready.

"Here," A baritone called out from behind you, scaring the living daylights out of you.

You shrieked, whipping around with your hands up and out, as if you had any grace or tact to defend yourself against a potential intruder. Instead, you were met with a broad bandaged chest, eyes glancing up slightly to see that same look of indifference with something. What came out of your mouth was more a puff of air than a laugh, disbelief convincing you that you had just heard things considering up until now you had assumed he was mute.

"Th....thank you," You muttered, gingerly plucking your wallet from the palm of his bandaged hand. Meeting your eyes for just a moment too long, you found yourself searching. Searching for that unnamed emotion you saw whenever he looked out the window, or when you caught him watching you eat your food out of your peripherals, or whenever you gave him your understanding, endlessly kind smile. His abhorrence was apparent, before he turned around and headed back to your room.

Most of your day was spent thinking about your auditory hallucination, or at least that's what you chalked it up to be. It was deep, authoritative, and had a chill running down your spine. It also really couldn't have been anything else, and you had thoroughly gaslit yourself into believing you were crazy until you heard him speak a few days later.

The stress of having two mouths to feed was quickly smothered upon realizing the man you had taken in didn't require food to survive. You wondered just what kind of being he was if not human, and the words fallen angel briefly passed through your mind. There was no such thing, and the thought alone was silly in itself. Still, it never stopped you from wondering just what you had gotten yourself into. Distracted thoughts wandered, resulting in you slicing at the tip of your finger as you prepared your dinner. You yelped, quickly sticking your index finger in your mouth purely on reflex.

"Stupid creature," Came that same baritone, your gaze shooting up and meeting the hardened gaze of your guest. Your mouth fell open, blinking stupidly at him, before your brain caught up to what he was saying. All you did was laugh, pathetically, and nod your head.

"Yeah, it was a stupid mistake, wasn't it?"

He seemed taken aback by this, downcast brows raising slightly as he watched you rinse out your cut, but not take the time to patch yourself up. You simply went back about your business making food, avoiding using your injured finger as you continued. He scoffed, which garnered your attention for a second time, your gaze coming back up only to see him turning on his heel and walking back to your bedroom.

After dinner, you gently knocked on the bedroom door, slowly emerging with an armful of supplies. Unsurprisingly, he was on the bed as he usually was, looking out the window. Pattering your way over, you dumped the supplies beside him on the bed, kneeling on the floor to sort through everything, noting the fact he was already sticking his arm out for you to begin your work. This had been your routine for weeks, but even after all this time he never once willingly complied. The sight made you smile, a small laugh escaping your lips as you unwrapped him, put on the cream, then re-wrapped him.

"You're making fantastic progress, I'd say you probably won't have to wear so many bandages anymore after this week," You mused, working on the bandages on his chest next. "It's crazy, your hair is growing insanely fast, your skin is basically as good as new-"

"Why do you persist?"

The question caught you off guard, his voice scratchy from lack of use, but the deep rumble of him rattled your body. You paused, unable to answer right away. "Because... I saw someone out in the middle of nowhere gravely injured. I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself if I just left you there."

"So you pity me? You think you're superior, and this is for your own satisfaction?"

Despite the venom tainting his voice, you couldn't help but smile, shaking your head as you applied more cream to him. "No, absolutely not. I don't think I'm better than anybody. I saw someone hurting, and I know how it feels to have people turn a blind eye when one is in need of help." Your eyes glanced up, a lump in your throat forming when you caught him gazing down at you. "Humanity is... lost, I think. Everyone is caught up in themselves and their wealth and their own general wellbeing, we forget to take care of the people and things around us. We forget that we can't just take, and there has to be some give. So this is me trying to be a giver in a world full of takers, I guess."

"It's pointless. You're insignificant." He scoffed, lifting his arms as you worked your way down.

"Yeah, maybe. Maybe I'm never going to amount to anything, and I'll have spent my life trying to make up for humanity's shortcomings and regret it later on, but I'm willing to accept that when the time comes. For now, I'd just like to help you get back up on your feet," You emphasized your words by tying a little knot in the gauze, holding it into place. Standing, you reached for his neck, your hand being intercepted for not the first time. He held it there, not as hard, but there was a threatening aura if you disobeyed his silent request. You stood, quietly, nodding for him to say his unspoken words.

"You didn't bandage your hand earlier," It was more a statement than a question, but you understood the connotation behind it regardless.

With a shrug, and a smile, you braved through the threat and pushed your hand forwards, unwrapping him. He let you, surprisingly, with an unreadable expression. "I would much rather have all the supplies I need to take care of people that need help more than me. It's just a small cut, after all." He was quiet, watchful eyes peering at you as you unwrapped his now growing tufts of platinum blond hair. It was coming through smooth, even, as if he hadn't been scarred from head to toe in burns. "Besides," You continued, decidedly leaving the bandages off his head, "Why would I waste perfectly good supplies on someone insignificant?"

Maybe it was because he wasn't expecting your self deprecating answer, or throwing his description of you back at him, but he seemed genuinely surprised. You didn't take the time to enjoy it, simply flashing him another smile before gathering up the used bandages and supplies and leaving him to his solitude he seemed to enjoy.

In the following days, he became a bit more chatty. At first you only noticed his presence, hovering around you in your general space, and part of you wanted to laugh at how similarly he behaved to a cat. The second you would acknowledge him, or glance in his general direction, he would leave the area, as if he didn't want you to perceive the fact he seemed to be curious about you and what you were doing. It was cute, despite the dangerous aura he seemed to exude sometimes, and you found yourself looking forward to just being able to exist in the same space as him. Once he managed to warm up to the fact you didn't seem to want or expect anything out of him, he became more obvious in your space, offering a roll of his eyes as you spoke to him about nothing at all in particular. Sometimes it was your day, your coworkers, something interesting you saw at the market. You never asked anything of him though, not even his name. He had given you a stern look one morning, asking why you never wanted information out of him. I'd like to think if you want to tell me something, you'll tell me when you want to, you said softly, who am I to make demands and take what I want from anyone?

He never really had much to say when you answered his questions, but you could always sense the surprise. The realization came to you quickly, the side eye he would give you when you smiled at his otherwise hurtful comments or cynical view on you and your species speaking volumes. It was like he had already formed an opinion of who you were, a predisposition to fall into simple categories of "good", and "bad", with humanity, including you, falling into "bad". Nevertheless, you continued to surprise him, constantly going out of your way to make him a priority, put his comfort above yours to the point where you had been damned to sleep on your lumpy, three-times thrifted couch. Never once did you complain about the crick in your neck, or your sore shoulder, or the tweak in your back that made you wince when you knelt down to change his dressings. You were doing this of your own volition, after all, simply happy to help someone that was obviously deeply wounded by people before you.

The day you came back dirty and defeated and worse for wear was the day something significant change in him.

Pushing through your apartment doors as normal, you saw him sitting on your couch, brows furrowing at the state of you. Your face was dirty, palms and forearms scraped and bloody, a small cut on your cheek and matching cuts in your work clothes. Despite your appearance, you greeted him with a weak smile. "I'm sorry," You huffed, setting a paper bag on the counter, walking over to the kitchen and washing up your hands, "Let's go change your bandages quick."

Leaving no room for argument, not that you were sure he would do that anyways, you gathered up the necessary supplies and crouched in front of him on the floor. Trying desperately, but failing, you winced as you gloved your scraped palms, and this time finding yourself unable or willing to meet his gaze, You could feel him watching you, calculating your every movement. You had finished up quickly, now that he was more man and less bandage it was an easier process. Finishing up, you gathered all the used supplies in a pile, tossing it into the garbage. Looping back around the couch, you took a final look at him before nodding, a forced smile through pursed lips. "Alright, I'll get dinner start-"

An iron grip encased your wrist as you began walking back around the couch, holding you firmly in place. You winced again, his fingers encasing a particularly nasty scrape. You didn't resist though, simply staring at him with a confused expression while he stood from his sitting position. He dwarfed you completely, despite the lack of exercise and movement he was still built and arguably massive, so you found yourself staring in awe whenever you were in relatively close proximity.

"Clean yourself up. It's an eyesore."

Perhaps his words stung more than they should have, but you sighed, nodding slowly. He released your wrist, letting you walk to your room to grab a change of clothes. Unlike his previous mannerism, existing in your general space without getting too close, this time he was hot on your heels, directly behind you the entire time. Plucking up some comfy pants and a loose shirt, along with a towel, you trudged your way over to the bathroom. Once you reached the door, you went to close it, eyeing him suspiciously as he stood in place with his arms crossed just past the threshold. Closing the door with a click, you stripped, turning the taps on and hopping in. Feeling the tears well up that you had been staving off were harder and harder to fight back, deep in and out breaths only helping so much before the cloud over your head began to storm. Before you could let it consume you, you washed yourself up, dried yourself off, and got changed, deciding distracting yourself would be better than wallowing in self pity at the loss of your wallet, groceries, and dignity.

Upon opening the door, your guest was still firmly stood in place, completely unmoved from his last position you saw him in. You stared back, taking a small step forward and hoping he would get out of your way. His eyes were watchful, knowing, and the way they peered down at your scrapes and bruises, then came back up to your eyes was enough to tell you what he wanted from you, and that he had no intention of getting out of your way until then.

You didn't know why, you didn't know why that was what broke the dam, why the smallest glance had tears pooling in your eyes and falling down your cheeks. You stood there, staring at each other as tears bubbled past your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks, until a soft sob left your lips. Hanging your head, you watched your tears hit the tile of the bathroom floor. Perhaps because you were clouded with stress and regret, you could justify taking a step forward. Perhaps, because you have been trying so hard for so long, you just needed someone to tell you that you were doing a good job, you could justify resting your forehead on his chest, loosely wrapping your arms around his waist. For the first time in the months you had known him, you took, and you felt a deep guilt about it.

"I'm sorry," You whispered into him, closing your eyes as you went to pull back. A hand at the back of your head stopped you, pulling you back into your weak, one sided embrace. Despite the fact he didn't rest his arm around you, despite the fact all he did was put a hand in your hair, you found yourself tearing at the seams, coming undone and sobbing against him.

After a couple minutes, your shoulders stopped quaking, your sniffles began to subside, and you heard that deep voice in the crevice of his chest speak.

"Finish cleaning yourself up," His voice was low and assertive, to which you let out a small saccharine laugh, nodding your head against his chest.

"Okay. Thank you, friend," You slowly took a step back, looking up at his firm expression. Brows upturned, you offered your signature bittersweet smile, still teary eyed and ruddy cheeked as you wiped your face. His expression fell, lips downturned at your harmless name for him. It was visible, the cogs turning in his head as his eyes watched you brush the tears from your face, glance down at your pouty lips and wet jaw, then back up to your eyes.

"Nai."

"P... Pardon?" You paused, watching him take a step towards you.

"Call me Nai," He took another step forwards, crowding you in his space against the bathroom counter. You found yourself bending back a bit, eyes wide and glassy as you watched him lean into you.

"N-Nai," You repeated back to him, watching his eyes search you again. This time it was more frantic, his mouth hanging open, obvious distress on his face until he was nearly nose to nose with you.

"Again."

"Nai... What are- mmf-"

All it took was a blink. You blinked, and his lips were crushed up against yours in a searing kiss. It was desperate, needy, forceful, expressing every emotion he had kept bottled up in the back of his mind. White knuckle gripping the edge of your bathroom counter, you leaned back even more, spine bent over the surface at an uncomfortable angle. You tried pulling back, tried to ask him what he was doing and if he was okay, only for a hand to come up and firmly grip your jaw, holding you in place. The hand on your face squeezed, prying open your mouth with ease, his tongue licking into your open mouth before pressing his tongue against yours. Just as you let your eyes shut, just as you began to press back up into him, he ripped away, taking a stride back. Panting and delirious, you blinked through your daze, seeing the disgusted scrunch of his nose and downturned brows as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Flinging the partially closed door open, Nai stormed out in a heated rush, leaving the door to hit the wall and bounce nearly to a close again. All you could do was stare at the empty space where he was once standing, your mind having to work double time to catch up with everything that happened. Taking a deep, shaky breath, your fingertips ghosted across your lips in stunned silence. He looked so desperate, so hurt, and more than anything your heart ached at the expression that had graced his smooth, angelic features when you had spoken his name to him. Completely torn, unable to weigh the pros and cons of simply just leaving him be, or being at his side, you decided against your better judgement and slowly exited the bathroom. Your hair was still wet, cold droplets penetrating the thin fabric of your night shirt. Steeling yourself, you pushed through the threshold of your bedroom, only to see the tall man ripping off the bandages on his arms and chest. You sprung into action immediately, concerned for his healing process.

"Nai, stop that-"

"Do not!" He yelled, turning around and facing you. His eyes were wide, stress evident on his face due to his inner turmoil. When you swallowed, taking another step forward with an outstretched hand, he snarled, clenching his jaw.

"Please, Nai, let me fix your bandages-"

"Why do you persist?!" He asked for a second time, "You are a disgusting, unworthy creature. You are insignificant and meaningless! You have no right being so similar to him!" Insult after insult, he stepped closer, never lowering his voice, "Your kind are repulsive, you do nothing but take, nothing but steal, nothing but hurt."

The fact you only pursed your lips, unmoving in front of him, seemed to escalate his fury.

"What makes you so different?" He growled, impeding on your space for a second time this evening, the malicious aura surrounding him different as his hand shot up, clasping around your throat and fingers digging into your jaw. Still, you did not move, only wincing when he tilted your head back at an angle stressful on your weary muscles.

Your docile, unintimidated nature broke down his walls, his grip wavering, before loosening completely. He kept his hand in place, his chest heaving from his one-sided outburst. Quiet, much more quiet than he had been, he whispered, "Why are you so different?"

Slowly, as not to shock him, you raised a hand, eyes downcast at a portion of his arm that was scratched and bloody, most likely from his frantic half attempted escape out of his dressings. You were careful, wrapping the ripped dangling bandage around that spot, lifting your other hand to tie it off. Grip slipping, his hand slowly slid down the column of your throat, the heel of his palm resting on your collar bone while his fingers brushed your pulse points. He was impossibly close again, but this time there was no distress. There was no urgency. Only disbelief, and that familiar inkling of something else you had gotten used to finding in his eyes.

"I understand," You breathed, taking his sagging shoulders as an okay to keep going, "I understand that... People are cruel, and evil- I know. I encounter it every day. I know. It's tragic, and horrible, and that's why I try so hard to make up for others' shortcomings. I try my best to be the good I want to see in this world."

Turquoise eyes watched your hands continue tying off frayed ends, watched your lips purse and eyes grow glassy at the state of him, and he huffed a sardonic laugh. "It's pointless."

"I know. But that doesn't mean I'll ever stop trying."

Only met with silence, you scanned his expression, seeing that same bewilderment you were met with nearly every time you surpassed his expectations. It made you smile your signature smile, a small puff of amused air leaving your lips as his fingers twitched against your skin, enclosing the base of your throat in a loose grip. There you stood in silence with him, letting him mull over whatever he needed to sort through internally, you would be patient in letting him take his time. Gaining trust was never an easy process. He noticed this, brows furrowing as your hand came up and gently caressed the rough tattered fabric clinging to his arms. He swallowed, and just as you opened your mouth to ask if he wanted you to fix it for him, he was barking a quick order.

"Get on the bed."

Instantly you were bashful, cheeks heating up in a vibrant blush, ears warm and expression puzzled. Still, you listened, watching his hand fall from your neck before stepping over to the bed. You crawled on, settling yourself in the center of the mattress before spinning around and facing him, folding your hands in your lap as you awaited his next request. You never ended up receiving one, simply shuffling up closer to the pillows as he climbed on with you. Once again, he was caging you in, eyes searching you for any dishonesty, as if he still had his doubts about you but was unsure how to prove you wrong when you were so irrevocably good. His interest seemed to outweigh his suspicion, or maybe there was something else that had him gravitating towards your melancholic, teary eyed optimism. Perhaps that him he had mentioned was not so different from yourself.

Unsure what to expect, you simply blinked at him, slowly leaning back on your forearms, before laying down, his body unmoving as he watched you shifted your weight to lay on your side. Your eyes stared out the window towards the starry night sky, listening to the rustling of fabric sheets, before the mattress was sinking lower behind you. The sudden shift in weight had you pressed back against him feeling an arm come around, elbow resting on your waist, forearm tucked around your waist and hand dipped under your side, you inhaled sharply, tensing slightly. His uncertainty and back and forth had you confused, unsure exactly what he wanted to do or what he thought of you, but the closeness and physical touch had your throat growing tight and those familiar tears welling up.

"Nai... What are you doing?" You asked, barely above a whisper, unsure exactly what his intentions were with you at this point. Only met with silence for a short while, you closed your eyes, soaking in his warmth- because God was he warm- appreciatively.

"This helped my brother when we were young."

Understanding he probably wasn't going to elaborate further, you simply huffed a small, weak laugh at the insinuation he was treating you like a child, but you were grateful nonetheless. You weren't expecting him to have the capacity or compulsion to help you, considering many occasions had come up in the weeks you knew him where you had been in a position of needing help and he would only watch scornfully with crossed arms. A cheeky smile cracked your features, daring to turn your head and glance back at him at the risk you would be pushing him away. You were going to say something about him treating you like a child, but your smile fell the second you saw the expression on his face. His brows were downturned, but he looked tired, a twinge of sadness he poorly masked as irritation.

"Your brother must have been lucky to have you," You whispered, unsure what else you could have said, unsure if there's anything you could say to take away his pain and sadness. "I know I am."

There was a spark of recognition, realization, a switch being flipped in the back of his mind you barely managed to catch before he was leaning into you, slotting his lips against yours. You were surprised by him again, but much more accepting to his advances now that you got a brief glance into the window of his mind. He had so much inner turmoil, internalized emotion he masked with anger or irritation or indifference. Pushing into him, only enough to reciprocate, the arm around your waist tightened before turning your body, flipping you on your back. Gasping when your back hit the bed, the old springs below groaned in retaliation as Nai made space for himself between your legs, forcing them apart with flat, firm palms. His short, platinum blond hair illuminated by the moonlight made him seem even more angelic, the pale white light accentuating every dip and crease and crevice of his fit physique laying underneath tattered, torn bandages. You breathed as he leaned down, unable to contain your quiet, "Beautiful..."

It was difficult for you to comprehend, the languid kiss becoming more tongue, his teeth bared and biting at your lower lip when you pushed back, threatening to invade the space of his mouth. Strong hands came up to the small of your waist, grabbing at you in such a way it made you vividly aware of the fact he was so much bigger than you. He seemed to realize this too, pulling back from your spit ridden kiss to glance down at your much smaller body so pliant in his hands. His brows furrowed, mouth hanging open slightly as he squeezed. It wasn't hard, only enough to make you squeak, his eyes shooting up to glance at you through his light lashes. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, pushing it up and past the swell of your breasts despite your flustered protests. Not even realizing your eyes had clamped shut, you cracked an eye open to glance up at him, surprised to see him transfixed. His hands grabbed, squeezed, brushed, every bit of skin, setting your nerves on end when he always nearly avoided touching the most sensitive parts of you.

The thought of has he not done this before briefly crossed your mind, but was dismissed when he thumbed over your nipple, eliciting a drawn out whine from your throat. You were half expecting him to have a negative reaction, considering every time you had an innately human reaction to something, he was quick to scrunch his nose and turn away. Instead, he repeated the action, leaning down to shove his tongue in your mouth in the process. It was easy, your gasp and whine allowing him immediate access, and your eyes were rolling back at the feeling of him caressing and squeezing you. Another whine pulled from your throat, this time muffled by his mouth and tongue, you gently placed your hands on his wrists. He tensed, but didn't stop, a silent affirmation that you could keep going. Your hands skated up his arms, over his shoulders, arms winding around his neck, nails slowly dragging up the top of his spine. He groaned, squeezing your breasts in his hands, before his hands shot down to your hips, pulling you up and into him to meet the roll of his hips.

"Ah! N-Nai!" You gasped, glancing down at the pair of oversized borrowed sweatpants he had donned nearly every day living with you. Never had you been so happy to own a piece of clothing from an ex, and the satisfaction of watching your house guest fill them out much better was a treat in itself.

"Again," He demanded, watching your expression scrunch and release as he rolled his hips into you again.

"Nai," You breathed, throwing your head back against the pillows, nails digging further into his back. The noise he emitted was animalistic, grip wavering on your hips. You heard a rip, eyes shooting open and glancing down to see your shorts and underwear in tatters on the bed. It looked as if they had been put through a shredder, and all you could do is stare with absolute bewilderment as to how he had managed that so quick.

However, you were unable to say anything, now being zoned in on the heave of his chest, or how his eyes locked on the line of your pussy. A lump formed in your throat, wondering if maybe something was wrong, if maybe he thought you looked weird, or gross, and subconsciously you tried to tuck your legs up to close them, but with him occupying that space there was simply no room. He glanced up at your eyes again, then down, a hand abandoning its place on your hip to thumb over your already embarrassingly wet cunt and part you. Sitting back on his haunches, using his knees to push your legs apart further, his other hand came down, spreading you with both thumbs to observe. The embarrassed noise that left your lips didn't tear his attention away, hands coming up to hover over your mouth as you watched him, once again begging the question...

"Have you never seen one before?" You blurted out, cheeks rosy and eyes half lidded. Really it was the only explanation, as far as you were aware you weren't completely abnormal down there, at least not that you were told. Almost immediately regretting your decision, the slow slide of his eyes up to your face, he didn't answer, but there was a tinge of pink at the tips of his ears that spoke for him. "Here," You bit your lip, a hand coming down and slowly sliding your fingers down, then up, gathering some of your slick before rubbing at your sensitive bundle of nerves, "Like that."

Nai seemed to look apprehensive, confused, only for a moment before he mimicked your actions. You keened, back arching slightly as he pressed his fingers just a bit too hard. Reaching down, your fingers encased his wrist, holding it back slightly. "Gentler, you have to be gentle... Please."

A frustrated scoff was all you received, nevertheless his actions seemed much more careful, gentler, and you were only moderately concerned that the thought made your heart swell. With his middle and ring finger moving in slow, deliberate circles, you arched your hips into him, eyes sliding shut once again as he toyed with you, his fingers quickening in pace. His name was a mantra on your lips, syllable after syllable egging him on, before his fingers came to dip down like yours had. They dipped down a bit too quick, too hard, his fingers dipping into your aching core up until the second knuckle. A choked out scream was ripped from your throat, not expecting the sudden intrusion, but his curiosity gave you no respite. His fingers delved deeper, then pulled back out, all the while you were gaping at the ceiling at how well only two of his fingers seemed to fill you.

"T-That's- N-Nai, it's sensit-ah! " You bucked your hips when his fingers delved back in, seeming to get the idea quicker than you were hoping he would. Crying out a moan, you whined for him, keened for him, peering at him through your lashes as he fucked you with his fingers. Despite being rough around the edges, his fingers managed to reach a specific spot that you were sure was going to make you cum soon if he kept abusing it. As if he had done this plenty of times before, his eyes were locked onto yours, his other hand pressing down into his tented pants. The pants were loose around his hips, baggy on anyone that wore them really, so you didn't know if he was really that fucking big or if it was the moonlight playing tricks on you. It made your mouth water.

"Nai," You called out to him desperately, hand clasped around his wrist once again, "I want to touch you too," Your voice was quiet, raspy, sweet, and the smile gracing your features made his furrowed brows and focused scowl falter. Pushing yourself up on your forearms, you reached down, finger hooking in the waistband of his pants. Seemingly growing confidence, or more likely it was his ego shining through, he sat up on his knees, allowing your hands to pull the fabric down.

It was a visceral effort not to have the same reaction he did to you when you were met with sticky white petals encasing what would have been a normal, albeit massive, cock, absolutely shocked beyond comprehension. You always entertained the thought he was non human, considering how often he spoke lowly of humans and his incredibly short healing period. The glyphs running up the length of him left you breathless, the slow ooze and drip of endless precum coming from the tip making you lick your lips. When your hand gripped him at the base, the glyphs pulsed and glowed, the surrounding sticky petals curling in and around your hand. The glyphs began to spread, across his pelvis, down his thighs, and then you realized where you had seen these markings before...

A Plant. He's a Plant. His otherworldly beauty and distain towards people suddenly made so much sense, and you couldn't fault him for it.

Pushing yourself up onto your knees, but still not matching his height, you slowly moved your hand, a quick, deep exhale coming from his slightly parted lips. His cheeks were much more ruddy, a stark contrast to his pale skin and hair, and you couldn't help but smile softly at him as you gripped your fist a little tighter, the slide up and down slick and smooth with how much liquid was dribbling out of him. All you could do was watch, stare, transfixed by the dribble, the glow, before you couldn't take it anymore.

"Can you sit back for me?" You were sure he wouldn't be so willing to relinquish control, but the kind words coming out of your mouth weren't unalike the gentle words that you muttered whenever you would wrap him up or tend to his wounds. So, he did, kicking his sweatpants off and sitting back against the wall for you. Leaning down, you continued to pump the length of him. Testing the waters, you gave the head a kitten lick, pleasantly surprised by the sweet taste of the viscous liquid coming out of him. It reminded you of honey, or nectar, the floral scent behind it completely bewitching. Your lips encased the tip, a low groan being punched out from his lungs as you did so, hands working what you weren't immediately fitting into your mouth.

Really, it didn't take much to completely unravel him, only managing to hollow your cheeks and move down about half way before his hands were grabbing at your hair and forcing you the rest of the way. Unsure exactly why, even as you gagged you were moaning around him, earning noises from him in return, but you were completely enamored by him and his cock that you didn't care he was pushing his hips up to meet you half way, fucking your face. He was rough, tugging your head down in time with his upwards thrusts, his grunts and groans increasing in frequency as you completely lost yourself in him. Hand reaching down, spinning circles around your clit, you felt his hips stutter and falter before he let out a long, primal groan, pumping your mouth and throat full of cum. You spun your fingers faster, chasing your high desperately as he gave quick, shallow thrusts into your throat, but it wasn't enough. It didn't stop, and you thought you might drown in him before he was pulling out of your mouth, globs of sweet liquid pouring out of from your lips, clinging to your face and bed.

"Fuck, that-" Interrupted, you were grabbed by your bicep, being hauled up and tossed back. Your head hung over the side of the bed, addled brain trying to catch up to your sudden upside-down visual. When you felt weight on top of you, you strained to lift your neck, watching as Nai wrapped his arms around your thighs, tugging you into him. The slide was easy, instant, completely sheathing himself in you with one strong thrust. You wanted to scream, but the position you were in coupled with your throat being fucked raw, all that came out was a pathetic squeak. He grunted, setting a brutal pace, tugging you in time to meet his thrusts by your thighs. You moaned, gasped, sputtered, tried calling to him to slow down, please, but it fell on deaf ears.

Completely unexpected was the hand that came down between your legs, thumbing at your clit. That seemed to be enough for you, your mind running blank and seeing stars as he continued to fuck you through your earth shattering orgasm. Your legs seized, muscles spasming and tensing as you felt an unfamiliar wetness between your legs. A deep grunt and growl was immediately followed by a pair of strong hands grabbing at your waist, tugging you up and into him as if you weighed nothing at all. Delirious, mind spent, you could barely register the fact you had thrown your arms over his shoulders, a hand gripping your hip so tight it was certainly going to bruise as he fucked up into you. His other hand grabbed at your cheeks, squeezing and forcing you to look into his piercing gaze. He was beautiful, his eyes, the crease of his brow, the snarl on his lips and his bared teeth, primal and angelic.

"You're mine," He growled, your mind spinning as you moaned and whimpered for him, "I'll keep you, pet, I'll protect you, but you're mine. Do you understand?"

Barely able to nod in his grip, you simply swallowed, choking on a raspy yes.

"Say my name."

You didn't think you would be able to, mind hazy and voice weak, but one hard thrust up had your voice punched out. "Nai!" You keened, eyes sliding shut as you felt your second orgasm creeping up on you so soon. "Nai, please I'm go-gonna- cum!"

The firm grip he had on your face moved back, fisting your hair and pushing your lips up into his as he groaned into your mouth. His cock twitched inside of you, pumping you to the brim with more cum. He never stopped, hips humping up into you through his orgasm, pushing you over the edge on your second, and you were completely devoured by him.

Stilling, Nai pulled back, his heaving breaths fanning over your cum and sweat sticky face. His eyes scanned you, and all you could do was stare dumbly in return. Slowly, he lifted you, grunting when his softening cock slid out of you, petals curling and wrapping up to encase him. The slow dribble down your thighs made him huff a seemingly amused exhale, keeping you close in his arms as he laid back on the bed, you on top of him. Nothing was said, only the wind and chirp of bugs outside encasing you in a melody perfect to drift off to. You sighed, adjusting your head so your face was tucked into the crook of his neck. He tensed, but said nothing, so instead you filled the silence.

"I'll be yours, Nai. I'll take care of you."

#knives x reader smut #millions knives x reader smut #millions knives x reader #knives x reader #millions knives trigun #knives trigun #trigun x reader #trigun x reader smut

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ladybyakuya · 20 days ago

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MOONLESS NIGHTS.

cws ✦ fem!reader, boyfriend!vash,pussy-drunk!nai, mention of ovulation, periods, consensual, m→f-oral-receiving, polyamory if you squint.

syn ✦ an impromptu movie night turns out to be more interesting than the movie.

✦ redirect to blog navigation.

“Oh my my Nai, are you okay?�� Vash asks while he chuckles. You can feel his chest reverberate at your back but the sensation is too short-lived to be negligible. Nai does not respond to his brother, just hums as he buries his face deeper into your cunt. His nose is practically rubbing up and down at the apex of your pussy while his tongue is in between your folds.

Vash places a soft kiss against your temple. His hands are clamped over your knees keeping your folded legs far apart from each other providing Nai as much space as possible so that he can have a taste of you. Your ovulation period is going to end soon, maybe today or tomorrow or maybe now. Vash is going to make sure Nai remembers how you taste because you are going to taste different when your red week is over.

Nai has his eyes closed, hands underneath your thighs, fingers digging into your skin creating dips as he eats your pussy relentlessly. There is a yakuza movie playing on the television, a murder scene followed by a packed sequence of fighting but of course with jazz music playing in background. Needless to say, none of you are paying attention to the movie not even bothered enough to turn it off or turn the mute mode on. Vash said, “It’s a nice addition.”

You did not think a movie night with your boyfriend and his brother would end up with you being in between them. You can barely think swating his head away or moving or building up some sort of resistance. You do not want to move but have to keep the urge to buck your hips against Nai's face at bay because Vash would not like that. Vash just said, “Stay still baby. Stay still. Hmmm? ” to you, and when Vash says something in a firm even tone, you listen; you listen to him like the good pet you are to him, which is why he is sitting behind you with his chest against your back holding your legs for his dear brother, Nai. God! he's such a mess right now. You are no better. The velvet skin of the couch has turned into it's darker shade.

It actually started with mere a question.

“Nai, have ever gone down on someone?”

The crunch of popcorn seemed loud to your ears as Vash lets his arm encapsulate around your shoulders which was resting on the backbone of the couch a while ago.

“why are you asking?” You held your breath as another moment of silence lingers in the air.

“Just answer.” Vash states finally shifting his gaze on his brother who was still watching the movie, well at least tried to.

“No. Never. Didn't have the chance!”

What happened next was a delight to Vash’s eyes. You wet your bottom lip in a quick swipe of tongue.

Vash pulls you closer to his side saying, “Would you like to try?”

Nervousness crawled all over your skin and of course Vash noticed, you were his girlfriend after all. The room fell into silence once again, accompanied by a heavy tension that three of you were obviously aware of. Vash had always noticed the yearn in his brother's eyes from time to time for you. He is seeing it now so he did not hesitate one bit to explore more about it.

Vash brings his face near your ears whispering, “Why do you say love? Care to help my pathetic brother out?” It was not a question and you were aware of that.

Nai could hear him. The popcorn in between his index finger and thumb fell and rolled onto the floor. He could not believe his ears. Both of them were looking at you now and all you had to do was to nod.

And when you did, you did not had to do anything else. Just follow Vash’s lead that had Nai peeled off your jeans from your skin, followed by your underwear having your pussy at display as Vash held your legs open positioning you in Nai's direction.

Nai did not waste any time from putting his mouth in between your legs. In fact, you could feel how desperate and needy he became as he kept slobbering up your juices. You did not mind, neither there was any resistance of sort; just ownership and surrender. Nai could not get enough of you. Even though you came he kept going. Vash could feel how intense the orgasm was for you since the fingers that interlaced with Vash’s became too tight for a few seconds and then became so lithe that Vash almost felt lonely.

Nai straightens himself up to finally take a breather. With his wings and tentacles spreading out from his back, he looked so handsome, so divine, especially with that craving in his eyes for more. How come you never noticed it?

“Now,” Vash deadpanned, “kiss her.”

“But—” Nai hesitates so you hold his face in between your palms pulling him into a kiss. His breath hitches but he gives in. You kiss him quite long you think before you feel Vash’s cold hands slipping under your top, fondling your boobs over your bra. A moan escaped from you making Nai sink into your kiss deeper. You felt another pair of lips upon the croon of your shoulders, as Vash’s arms travelled down to your torso lifting you up a little to have you onto his lap.

Nai is now deprived of your soft candy flavoured lips. He looks at you with lustful yearn filled in his eyes. He just wants to be inside you.

“My turn,” Vash says as he positions you on his bare thighs. He can not wait to be inside you which is evident from how is cock protrudes from the slit in his crotch. He thinks that by the time the movie ends he will make sure that your hunger for this movie night is satisfied up to the brim. It was your idea to include Nai, after all.

networks | @interstellar-inn @the-all-stars-network @houseofsolisoccasum @pixelcafe-network @underratedcharactercorner

mutuals | @kentocalls @theoxenfree

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suguwu · 5 months ago

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WRAP YOUR TEETH AROUND THE WORLD I PART ONE

A child of the harvest, your life is forfeit when you're chosen for the Hunt's Rite.

You don't expect the god to take an interest in you instead.

minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

pairing: gn!reader x millions knives

notes: if you've followed me for a bit, you know that i've been thinking about this concept for a long while. it's such a delight to be able to finally share it. with massive apologies to my beta, who has not read this because i am too impatient.

the title is, of course, from hozier.

content: god of the hunt nai au, reader is specifically a vegetarian, slow burn, human sacrifice, implied murder, predator/prey aspects.

wc: 5.2k

The sun is setting when they come for you.

Light is still pouring golden over the horizon, dripping along the edge of the sky like honey, sweet and thick despite the teeth of the encroaching night. It casts the High Priest’s face into shadow, blurs the edges of her until she is something else, something more. God-touched.

You watch her disappear into the temple, absentmindedly holding the lantern-lighter to the wick. The flame catches quickly, a kiss of light, flaring like a shooting star. The bright flash makes you blink. It makes you refocus on your task. The next lantern is lit just as quickly, and you make your way around the courtyard, until a constellation bathes the courtyard in soft, flickering orange.

You’re lighting the final wick when you hear your name. It rings out like the toll of a dour bell, deep and sad. Frost spirals down your spine, winter come early. You take a moment to blow out the lantern-lighter before you turn around.

The High Priest of the Hunt flashes her teeth. The forest lives in the sharpened edges of them, each carefully filed to a knife’s deadly point, smooth and sharp. You shudder.

“Child,” your High Priest says. “You have been chosen for the Hunt’s Rite.”

Your next breath hurts. It shears through you, drags up between your ribs to split you apart, carves its way out of your throat. You choke on it.

“But—” you gasp out. “I’m a child of the harvest.”

“You are not claimed,” the High Priest of the Hunt says, her voice billowing out like smoke. It fills the cracks in you with char, with something you cannot name. “And you have been chosen.”

You have no words; they slip away from you like mist rising from the lake’s surface, wispy and intangible. The harvest god does not claim. It is not his way, but you had thought it would be different for you.

(The man smiles at you, soft and sweet and edged with something like sorrow. “Eat,” he says, holding his hands out, his palms suddenly overflowing with plump fruit. The berries gleam in the dappled sunlight, little multi-colored gems.

Your stomach aches at the sight.

“You’re—” you breathe.

“Eat,” the man—the god—repeats. “It will do you well.”

The berries burst beneath your teeth. They’re salt-kissed, a remnant of his touch. You devour them, ravenous with months of famine settled into your weakened bones, and only taste devotion.)

You had thought it would be different for you, you who had supped from his palms.

“Please,” you say softly. “Please.”

Your High Priest looks away. His mouth twists, going sour at the edges, and his eyes are glassy in the low light, shining brightly with unshed tears.

The High Priest of the Hunt’s eyes glimmer too and you think of a predator peering out from the depths of the woods, eyes flickering beneath moonlight.

“It is an honor to be chosen,” she tells you. “The hunt has always provided.”

You stay quiet.

She hums low in her throat, the sound like the distant baying of the dogs, and reaches out. You bite your tongue to keep from flinching. The pain shatters beneath your skin, a lightning strike sting, and you concentrate on that as she traces her thumb over the apple of your cheek. Her touch is reverent, skimming over your skin like silk.

“Come,” she breathes. “We must ready you.”

Your High Priest protests, but the sound of his reedy voice is lost under the pulsing thrum of your blood as it echoes through you. It’s loud, like the purr of the pebbles that tumble over themselves each time a wave draws back from the shore. You stumble back a step.

There’s a ribbon woven around your chest, you think, and it’s growing tighter, compressing the bones until they start to creak. You suck in a sharp breath; it burns.

The High Priest of the Hunt studies you. In the lantern light, her features are stark, flickering shadows dancing over her face. She tilts her head and her blonde hair spills over her shoulder like starlight. It illuminates her, a galaxy spread sparkling in the sky, and again, she seems like something more. Something bigger. She flashes her sharpened teeth in a mockery of a smile.

“Come,” she says again. “There is nothing for you here.”

“Elendira,” your High Priest says. “Please.”

Her eyes harden. “The child is ours. The rite must be prepared.”

“They are to be given one night—”

“That is for those with family.”

You cast your eyes to the ground. The guttering flames of the lanterns send undulating patterns over the packed-down dirt of the courtyard; they writhe like snakes. The two High Priests continue to go back and forth, but they sound distant, as if they’re just echoes of themselves.

“Child.”

You look up. Your High Priest gives you a ghost of a smile; there’s a deep sorrow tucked up in the corner of his lips. He takes your hand in his. His fingers are bird-boned, delicate things. They’re trembling.

“You must go,” he says.

“Must I?”

He squeezes your hand. “Yes.”

You blink back the tears. Just behind him, Elendira watches the two of you, her eyes gleaming in the lantern-light. There’s a triumphant curl to the crimson slant of her mouth, a brutal slash of victory. You squeeze your High Priest’s hand and draw in a ragged breath.

“I would bring some of my things with me,” you tell them. It will help, you think, to have them with you.

Elendira scoffs. “There is no need,” she says. “You are in the care of the hunt now. We will provide all that you want.”

“Then the hunt can provide me with my things.”

She eyes you, her lip curling up into a fierce little smile. “You have bite after all,” she says. “The hunt lives in you yet.”

You resist the urge to bare your teeth. “The harvest lives in me.”

She arches a perfect brow. “We shall see.”

Still, she relents. Two of her acolytes silently accompany you to your room at the temple; you pack in a daze, plucking up a few keepsakes, though you’re not sure why. You know the fate you are heading towards. You let your fingers play over the spirals of seaglass that line your dresser, the deep blues and the soft greens misted over by the ocean’s touch, years of gifts from the woodcarver.

You pick up one of the pieces, rubbing your thumb over the rounded edge of it. It’s the gentle blue of a mid-morning sky, of a speckled robin’s egg tucked carefully into the mess of a nest. You bring it to your lips and think that you can still taste salt.

The acolytes urge you from your room, their hands reverent against you. One of them has callused fingers, a bow’s lingering kiss, and you shrink back from the abrasive feel of them.

Elendira is waiting for you in the temple’s courtyard. She hums, low and resonant, as you approach, eyeing the few things you’ve gathered, but she says nothing. You bite at your lip as you take in your own High Priest beside her; he’s stooped over, heavily slumped, an eroded rock. He can’t meet your eyes.

You look away and into Elendira’s keen gaze. She smiles, a crimson slash that shows off her sharpened teeth, and beckons you close.

“Come here, little one,” she says.

You follow her command, coming to a halt in front of her. She slips a finger under your chin to make you look her in the eye. Her sharp nail digs into the softness there, just shy of breaking the skin. She examines you again. Her eyes—blue as the nearby lake, glittering like the water beneath the sun—are keen. You set your jaw and meet her gaze.

She laughs. She pushes your chin up higher for a brief breath before she withdraws, her nail dragging against your delicate skin like the tip of a knife. You draw in a sharp breath, but it doesn’t hurt.

“We leave now,” she says.

“Let me say goodbye.”

She considers you again. “Is that a demand, child?”

“You said the hunt would provide.”

“You’ve already used that once,” she says, but she sounds amused. “This is the last time I’ll allow it.”

She turns around and strides away before you can reply, her hair rippling behind her, a comet’s blazing trail. One of the acolytes trails behind her; the other remains in the courtyard, stepping back into the shadows cast by the lantern light.

“Child,” your High Priest says softly. He still can’t look you in the eye. “I am sorry.”

“I know.”

“There is nothing I can do for you.”

“I know,” you say, and the tears beading crystalline on your lashes finally spill over, running hot down your cheeks. He reaches out and cups your cheek. He hushes you quietly, his thumb running softly beneath your eye, brushing away the falling tears. His own eyes are shimmering.

“The woodcarver,” you say. “Will you—”

“I will go to her as soon as you’re gone.”

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything you wish for me to say?”

You shake your head. “She’ll know.”

“As you wish,” he says.

The acolyte shifts. “It is time,” they say, stepping forward into the light. “Come.”

Your High Priest’s hand tightens against your cheek before he lets it fall. You miss his warmth; the cool night air erases the ghost of his touch in an instant. “Goodbye, child,” he says softly.

“Goodbye,” you whisper.

The acolyte steps up beside you and gestures you forward. They lead you to where Elendira lingers in the shadows at the temple’s entrance. She steps forward and raises the hood of your well-worn cloak, her long fingers careful. The smile on her lips is sharp. It sinks down into your marrow, a well-placed knife. You shiver, frost spiraling down your spine.

The acolyte chivvies you into a carriage. Elendira slips gracefully in across from you, her cloak flowing around her like a gentle river. You turn your gaze outwards, unwilling to face her.

She laughs, the sound billowing out from her like smoke. But she doesn’t try to engage you; you watch the darkened countryside roll by, blurring like a mirage. You mark things familiar to you to try and ground yourself: the half-bent oak, the overgrown path to the long-dried lake, the curl of smoke rising from the temple.

It doesn’t work. You feel wool-headed, as if it’s stuffed between your ears. The world is a watercolor, smearing across your vision in flickers of color. You close your eyes against it, stomach roiling, and concentrate on breathing from your mouth, low and slow.

You only open them when the carriage creaks to a halt.

Elendira gives you no commands; she merely flashes her sharpened teeth at you in a mockery of a smile before sliding from the carriage. You have no choice but to follow.

There are two acolytes waiting for you, their curious eyes tracing over every inch of you. Elendira beckons one of them close.

“Ready them,” she orders. “They need to be prepared for the coming days before the rite.”

The acolyte bows and ushers you forward. You don’t bother to fight it. You barely look at your surroundings, too focused on each heavy step towards your fate. They guide you through the temple carefully. People bow as you go by; you catch the shadows of them out of the corner of your eyes, each one wispy as they yield to you and the acolytes. A shiver trickles down your spine like icemelt.

The air changes as you step into another hallway. There’s a dampness to it now, like the humid touch of a midsummer’s afternoon, when there is a promise of a storm in the air. The baths, then, you think. You’ll be scrubbed clean of the remnants of your temple, stripped of the very last of it, the scent of your soap.

For a moment, you consider running, but there’s no point. Instead, you let them herd you through a door and into the baths.

Once you’re in the steamy room, they strip you of your clothing with reverent fingers. You sink into the bath without a word, barely taking in the magnificent stretch of it, the bath so large it could almost be a pool, lined with tiles as blue as the sky.

You don’t fight it when they begin to wash you. Their touch is gentle, as sweet as a spring lamb. The soap smells of clover, of the meadows that edge the village, and it’s almost enough to mask the rusty tinge of blood that lingers in the air. The acolytes murmur to you as they bathe you, but their voices are distant, burbling like the river current.

They rinse you by pouring ladles of cool water over your head. It’s a balm against your heated body; you turn your face into it despite the gasps it brings. The water cradles you like a lover. Their murmurs meld into something songlike, rising and falling like the wind, fluting high and rasping low. Prayer, you think. You don’t bother to listen.

They dry you with towels scented like the forest, like the deep woods, all moss and loam. You do not receive your clothing back; instead, they dress you in fine silks that stick to your skin, that cling to your body like a gossamer spider’s web. You shiver as they sweep against your skin, as cool as a river.

The bath starts to darken as they blow the candles out. They chivvy you forward, back into the halls. Your cheeks heat as you go, aware that the silk sticks to each inch of you, a second skin, and that all eyes are upon you. The murmurs echo off the walls, rolling across you like waves against the shore.

The room they bring you to is a lavish one. There are luxurious pelts spread on the large bed, ready to keep the chill air of the encroaching fall at bay. They nudge you through the door. You stumble through it, your foot catching on the draping silk, and catch yourself against an ornate chair.

By the time you turn around, the acolytes are gone, the door scraping closed behind them. The click of the lock rings through the air. You cannot help yourself; you try the door. It does not budge.

The tears start to sting your eyes. You sniffle, willing them back, and make your way to the bed. It’s soft as you sink down upon it. You stare up at the ceiling until it starts to blur, and then you finally close your eyes.

You do not fall asleep for a very long time.

—

Dawn comes too early.

You’ve barely stirred in the bed when the door opens; an acolyte sweeps in. She’s keen-eyed, almost vulpine, with the sharpened teeth to match. You sit up as she draws near, huddling under one of the pelts.

“Come,” she says, her voice rolling like summer thunder. “You must eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’ll find your appetite once there is food in front of you.”

You shake your head.

Her expression doesn’t change, but suddenly, there’s something cold to her, the slow creep of the first frost. “It wasn’t a request,” she says. “Now come.”

You grit your teeth, your fingers tightening in the thick fur of the pelt you’re under. Then you let go and slide out from under it.

“Good,” the acolyte says.

She dresses you in silence, brushing your hands away when you try to smooth out the silken clothing they’ve brought you. It’s finely made, more beautiful than anything you’ve ever owned, and it makes your stomach twist.

She takes you through the winding temple halls, your bare feet quiet against the cool stone floors. The other acolytes stare as you go by, just as they did last night, and you shrink into yourself, make yourself small. It does little to alleviate the weight of their gazes.

The room she takes you into is a small one, but it seems cavernous, with its high ceilings and sparse decor. Elendira is there, her long blonde hair gleaming in the light, a falling star. She turns as you enter. She beckons you forward; you slink towards her, a cowed dog.

“Sit,” she tells you, gesturing to the chair across from her. “You must eat.”

You hesitate for a breath before you sink into the chair. She smiles, clearly pleased, and when she nods, another acolyte places a plate in front of you.

You pause. The plate is laden with seasonal vegetables, cooked and raw. For a moment, you almost feel like you’re home. “There’s no meat,” you say. Your own voice startles you, small as it is.

Elendira hums. “No,” she says. “It would make you sick.”

It would, considering how long you’ve gone without it, but you hadn’t expected to be accommodated. Perhaps you should have; it’s easy to forget that you’re important to them now. That you are something bigger than yourself. You gaze down at the plate and your stomach churns.

You think you might be sick anyway.

Under Elendira’s gaze, you pick away at the food, mostly pushing it around on the plate. When you finally lean back, unable to take even a second more, she purses her lips but says nothing. Instead, she beckons to you, a silent command.

You follow her out into the courtyard in the middle of the temple. You’re surprised to see the garden that fills it, the scent of wet loam rising to your nose as an acolyte waters a patch of summer roses, their petals the color of the dawn, a sweet, pearly pink. There’s a basket of them on the ground, their cut stems still oozing sap. You pause.

“Go on,” Elendira says, sounding amused.

You pick one up, twirling it between your fingers before hissing out a breath as a thorn catches the pad of your thumb. The blood wells up, a crimson seed, and you press your thumb between your lips to suck it away. Iron spreads on your tongue.

There’s a drop of blood clinging to the thorn; it trickles down the stem a bit. You wipe it away as Elendira watches, something like a smile blooming on her lips, but she says nothing.

Instead, she takes you through the garden to a set of rooms on the other side. There are acolytes waiting inside.

“Take care of them,” Elendira says. Before you can protest, she turns on her heel and glides from the room, her blonde hair flowing behind her like a comet’s tail.

“Come,” one of the acolytes says, holding out a hand.

You almost shrink away, but you take a deep breath and straighten your spine instead. You do not take their hand, but you follow them anyway. They bring you deeper into the chambers, into a room that smells of incense. It’s heavier than what your temple uses, but there is comfort in it nonetheless.

You spend the day in that little room, retreating deep into your mind as they prepare you, engaging in little rituals that are beyond your knowledge. Normally, you would ask, always curious, but you cannot bring yourself to do so.

By the time they lead you from the room, night has fallen. The scent of incense lingers on your skin as you walk through the courtyard, your face lifted towards the sky to better see the rising moon. It shines silver on the garden, painting petals with its soft touch.

A different acolyte chivvies you along. He’d joined the group later, taking over from faces that had just started to grow familiar. Part of you thinks that is exactly the intent—that you gain no true companionship with anyone. It is utterly lonely, like living amongst shadows.

He leads you to your room; once inside, you again hear the click of the lock. This time, you don’t bother to try the door. Instead, you shimmy out of the silken clothing and into the bed, closing your eyes.

When you open them again, you know that you are dreaming.

You are small again; you barely come up to the woodcarver’s hip. She presses your face against her skirts, her hand gentle but firm. The words are lost to the dream, but you remember them well enough—the elders discussing your fate after your father was lost to winter’s teeth, claimed by a cliff disguised by drifting snow.

The gods are not kind. That much is clear.

The elders say your father’s name like a funeral knell. You think it will haunt you forever.

When you look up from the woodcarver’s skirts, she is older, time smearing together as it only can in a dream. The edges of her eyes crinkle like parchment, laugh lines etched into her skin. They do not show now her face is solemn, her lips pinched together. She is thinner, her cheekbones sharp, and you realize it is the famine years.

The world swirls and suddenly, you are in the town square, desperate cries echoing around you. The woodcarver is next to you, her face grim, and she pulls you close as the crowd—the mob—pushes forward.

You know what happens next. It’s already written, a history you can’t change. But you turn away anyway, hiding your face back in the woodcarver’s skirts, as if it can block out the cries of the harvest god’s acolytes as they fall.

You wake with a cry, char and blood lingering in your nose, a phantom of the past. You sob once, twice, and bury your face in the furs of your fine bed.

The gods are not kind, but neither are men.

—

The morning dawns red.

It streaks through the sky, crimson fingers of light smearing against the horizon, the sun bleeding it like a cracked egg. It spills into your room through the high window, pooling on the stone floor.

The ruby sky fades into something softer as the sun continues its rise, but the damage is done. The burning spectacle haunts you as you dress for the day, unaccompanied by any acolyte. You can hear them in the hallway, the temple stirring to life, but no one comes through your door. Something in you burns cold.

When the door finally opens, you know.

The acolytes take you to the bath through deserted halls. The water is warm and sweetly scented with a perfume that you don’t know. It winds around you, soft and soothing. You drift as they bathe you.

Your skin prickles with gooseflesh when they rinse you, the air dragging its cool fingertips over the length of your body. The acolytes dry you with soft towels before they wrap you in clinging silks yet again. You trail your hand over the material, take in the icy slip of it.

You look up as one of the acolytes approaches with a piece of fabric in his hands. You dip your head at his gesture; he ties it over your eyes, leaving you in darkness, with just the tiniest hint of light seeping in at the edges, like the sun peeking over the horizon.

Blinded, you’re entirely reliant on the acolytes to lead you. You take deep breaths, trying to loosen the knot that’s wound itself around your ribs. You drift in the darkness, your mind fleeing.

The light hurts when the blindfold comes off. You wince, blinking away the sting, and find yourself in a grove at the forest’s edge, surrounded by the temple’s acolytes. They cry out at the sight of you, and you shrink into yourself, feeling your heart fluttering between your ribs, a trapped bird. Your hands are shaking.

Smoke billows around you, the scent of char settling over your skin as the acolytes disrobe you. Elendira watches from her place by the altar. Her blonde hair glints in the light, haloed by the sun, and her gaze is heavy upon your form.

The silk you were wearing puddles at your feet, iridescent, an icy lake reflecting the moon’s glow. They dab oil behind your ears and in the hollow of your throat. You choke on a sob.

It was not meant to be like this.

(Eat, the god of the harvest says, his smile sad. So that you may live as you are meant to.)

You let the acolytes wind pelts around you, the heat of them settling into your bones, a stoked fire caught up in fur. They’re for the deepest parts of the forest, you think, where the trees still murmur to each other. Where it stays chilled even in the height of summer.

It’s kind of them to think you’ll get that far.

“Please,” you say quietly, as one of them dips near to smear crimson juice on your lips.

She ignores you.

Elendira raises her arms at the altar. The others turn their attention her way; you glance to it and see a pearly pink rose laid out against the stone. You turn away and stare at the ground, at the forest loam full of moss. There is a spider skittering across a leaf. You watch it run.

Elendira is speaking, her cool voice filling the meadow. You cannot hear her. The acolytes move with her, at her command. You glance up and cannot make sense of what they’re doing. They whirl around you, snapping their sharpened teeth into the air with sharp clicks of their jaws, the muscles working beneath their skin. It’s too different from your own temple, all vicious, violent movement.

You only know the rite is complete when you feel him.

He blazes into being behind you, his presence oppressive, the weight of his gaze dragging at you like an anchor and its heavy chain. It sinks into you. Crawls beneath your skin. Flays you open and touches the deepest parts of you.

It’s almost familiar, like a dream within a dream.

Elendira cries out, her voice fluting like a bird’s before it grows rougher, crueler, until you hear the hunting dogs in her voice, nipping at your heels. Behind you, his presence grows, a stoked fire.

You don’t flinch when he touches you. His touch blazes like cold fire, a frostbitten thing. His thumb—thick and callused—dips into the oil that’s gathered on your neck.

He smears it up the soft underside of your throat to the tender skin just beneath your jaw. He presses there, just against your fluttering pulse.

Please, you almost say, but you know better.

The god of the hunt is not known for his mercy.

(Knives is just one of his many names, but it’s the one that rings truest. A blade is a blade is a blade. It cares little who it nicks.)

“Acceptable,” he says, and there is the forest in his voice, something ancient. It echoes around you. Thunders through your bones.

He leans in close, his breath warming the nape of your neck. Your chest goes tight.

He murmurs, almost fond, into your ear:

“Run, little rabbit.”

You do.

You know better than to look behind you; you bound off towards the forest, where the saplings rise like ribs, their shadows long against the ground. You feel the grass beneath your feet give way to the loam of the woods, dirt cushioned with moss.

The forest blurs by as you dash through it, nimble-footed as you dodge around the massive oaks that soar to the sky, their canopies darkening the woods around you. You gasp in a breath, your chest tightening more, anxiety spooling around your ribs like thread.

The woods have gone quiet. There are no birds calling; even the rustle of the trees is gone, as if fall has already consumed them, given them over to winter’s slumber. You only hear the pounding of your heart as it flutters against your ribs, a hummingbird's frantic beating of wings. You duck beneath a branch but not far enough. It scores your cheek, a whip crack of pain that fades quickly.

You have no time for it; you hurtle over an old, old root system, the tangle of them gone mossy with age. You barely clear it, your toes brushing against the mushrooms blooming from the bark.

You land hard.

It knocks the breath from you, rattles up through your bones, the earth's admonishment. Air rushes from you in a great, gasping breath and you cannot pull it back in. Your chest aches with it, a bruise freshly pressed.

Still, you don't dare stop.

You can feel Knives behind you, pacing like a wolf behind its prey. He keeps his distance, but never too far, nipping at your heels each time you slow with his massive presence, something too big to name. You hadn't known how divinity devours.

There is a maw at your heels and you can only go forward.

You dance between the saplings, breath caught in your throat. The woods are hungry around you; everywhere you look there are only trees.

Your feet pound against the dirt. They ache, a bone-deep bruise. You're slowing, you know, but you cannot help it. Your legs feel encased in resin, the slow drip of exhaustion trickling down them.

"Please," you pant. "Please."

(“Slowly,” the god says, brushing a knuckle against your cheekbone. “I will be here to give you more.”)

The blackberry bush to your left blooms into being, berries pouring from it, ripened to a plumpness that's beyond anything you've ever seen.

You change directions instantly, veering towards it.

Another one blooms, and then a raspberry bush, the berries little blood-red rubies, thick and juicy. You follow the verdant path coming to life, something bright starting to burn in your chest, something that you barely dare think of as hope.

You choke on your next breath.

Knives' presence has roared to life behind you, a freshly stoked fire. It drapes over you like the nighttime, deep and oppressive. Ozone crackles in the air. It's stark on your tongue. Suffocating.

Then there's an arm around your waist.

It stops you in your tracks, so sudden that it hurts. It shakes the sense from you. You gasp, the air forced from your lungs in a long, low hiss, a rattlesnake’s vibrating tail. Only the arm—thickly muscled, unyielding as iron—keeps you upright.

When your breath returns, it only catches in your throat once more.

There's heat against you; air stirs the fine hairs at your nape. You can feel the slow, steady rise of Knives’ chest against your back. His arm tightens around you. His fingers dig divots into the flesh of your hip.

His voice—full of the forest, of the hunt, of fur and fang and blood—rumbles through you.

“Not this one, little brother.”

The berry bush that had just burst into life withers, its verdant leaves curling up into brittle skeletons. You draw in a sharp, ragged breath. Your chest aches, a bruise of a thing, bone deep. You shift and those fingers flex, sinking even deeper into the curve of your hip.

You go still. There’s little point in struggling; this close, you can feel the divinity radiating off of him, a falling star, cold and bright. It’s overwhelming, burning through your very bones. It devours you. His arm tightens around you as your knees start to give, your chest heaving. Your vision spots, going black at the edges, and you feel more than hear him speak. It cracks like thunder and your body gives up.

The last thing you see before the world fades is a flash of blue hair.

#bee writes tristamp #knives x reader #millions knives x reader #tristamp x reader #trigun x reader #fic: wrap your teeth around the world

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skelebellie · 2 years ago

Text

affections towards reader

nb!reader x meryl, vash, wolfwood, and knives

NSFW headcannons involved, minors do not interact.

(nsfw is in red, if you’d like to skip it)

this is my first time writing smut lol. if you’ve got any constructive criticism please let me know.

———————————

meryl

meryl loves physical touch. she will constantly hold your hand in public, and if your not walking then she will sit close enough to have your legs touching. if your comfortable enough then she will make the excuse of “needing to save money” in order to share a bed with you. it intentions are never sexual, just in the loving nature that she feels most safe wrapped in your arms.

she loves to offer her thighs for those short naps. she knows she isn’t the most well endowed but you knock out moments within laying down.

meryl also likes to show her love though acts of service. she might take over some of your work to lessen the burden on you. maybe she might clean your clothes after a rough day through a sandstorm, making sure to part out all the sand prior.

she’s the opposite in bed. she’s an absolute pillow princess, her back arched as her thighs pressed against your head as you eat her out for hours. your just trying to show your appreciation for her, you know?

being in bed with her is something sacred to her. its a moment of absolute intimacy and she wants to spend every part of it clawing and grasping your body, each shock of pleasure causes her to pine at you. you never leave the bed without a scatter of marks and hickies.

vash

this man is the biggest trinket collector in the entire world, and you are not safe from him. if he sees something that reminds you of him, its his. you have an endless collection of keychains gathering on your bag. “but it was so cute!! just like you!!!” its so hard to resist when hes giving you puppy dog eyes.

if he notices a hole in your gear or clothes, you’ll come back from a day of odd jobs to find something new on your bed, neatly folded and a small note laid on top of it. “i saw you needed new gear. dont pay me back :) “. if its something you have an emotional attachment too, he will wait for the perfect moment to snatch it from you. you will receive it back with an added patch, the color being practically identical. even if it means late nights and expensive prices, he will do anything to get it back to its original shape.

no one is safe from his nuzzling. if your really nervous or scared, he will rub his head against your head (or any available body part). when he pulls back his hair is messy and tussled in every direction. you think its a plant thing.

in bed vash is a man who dominates the “act of service” category. his whole goal while having sex is making you feel good, your pleasure is his and every moan you makes brings him closer and closer to orgasm. if hes having a rough day all he wants is to eat you out/suck you off for hours on end. if he had to spend the rest of life with his head between your thighs than he would willingly do so.

of course, mans is a switch. some days he craves your control, riding him as you hold his wrists together, preventing him from touching you. in times like this he doesn’t have to worry about the outside world, only how tight you are and your moans. on the flip side, he wants to pound you so hard you forget about whatever troubles may come. he wants to be the only thing you can focus on, you teary eyes unable to pull apart from his face as his hands roam your body, unable to separate himself from you for just a moment.

since hes so clingy, hes an enjoyer of cock warming. he feels amazing connected to you, and he loves to monitor you face to see how much more the both of you can take.

wolfwood

words of affirmation got this man redder than the two suns above gun smoke. and in turn, he loves to support you verbally. “you did great out there”, “we couldn’t have done it without you”, “your my everything”. on top of that, if you feel insecure or anxious about yourself be ready to hear wolfwood list off the 1000 reasons why he loves every part of you. don’t feel like your inconveniencing him, he would willingly tell the entire planet if you let him.

wolfwood loves physical touch, especially your body. his touch is much more intimate, but not necessarily sexual. he will spend car rides with you in his lap or his arm wrapped around your waist, him pulling you into his side. if you let him wander he will start kneading your love handles or the fat of your stomach. you cant go anywhere without this man giving a surprise ass grab. your his personal stress ball.

if you’ve got a muscular or skinny body, hes tracing patterns into your skin or letting his nails glide against you, sometimes causing you to giggle.

he also loves to hear you rant about things than interest you. he would spend hours listening to you rant about some new invention or fixation. it warms his heart to see you so fascinated with something. that glimmer of excitement in your eyes gets his heart pumping.

speaking of physical touch, wolfwood is a man dedicated to the act, especially in bed. he will keep edging himself over and over again because he just doesn’t want it to end. he doesn’t mind you cumming, in fact the more fucked out you look, eyes rolled in pleasure, the more he just wants to make the moment last. he will go a tantalizingly slow pace until your vocal enough to beg him for more.

wolfwood likes a bush. i said what i said.

fave position is you on your side, it gives him enough support to grab at you whenever he wants. when he cums hes got a death grip on you. your the only thinking grounding him from the amount of pleasure you give him.

knives (million knives/nai)

whether or not this emotionally constipated man realizes it, hes got a love language.

he craves quality time, whether that comes from a need to have you near him 24/7 in order to protect you, or that his mind races every time you leave, is none of his concern. he just feels more at peace with you by his side, or at most, with you in his line of sight.

he discovered he really likes bathing with you, its a moment of non-sexual intimacy he looks forward too. he take pride in cleaning every part of you to make sure you are his “perfect partner”, using only the highest quality in JuLai on your skin. the first time it happened he just kind of walked in on you, eyes affixed to your body as you missed a spot. “your not doing it right”, he muttered before stripping and getting in with you. he can always tell where to massage your body if you’ve got a particularly sore muscle.

he always wants you sitting in his meetings with conrad. even when conrad was initially against it. he wants you to see the paradise hes working for, how far hes willing to go for you to live in a perfect world molded just for you and his brotheren.

sex though? oh hes a physical man through and through. as much as he tries to be gentle with you and your human body, he cant help but fold you over in order to get a view of your pleasure ridden face. his thumb resting in your mouth so the only thing your full of is him.

its only natural for you to be under him, as much as he tries to involve you as an equal at work, he knows the perfect place for you is under him and worshipping the love he gives you. and the best time for that is sex.

hes got an obsession with cumming in you. having a part of him inside you makes you so much closer to him, much better than all the other lowly humans. he will keep cumming inside of you until you simply can’t hold anymore. it gets him hard knowing how much your filled of him, both physically and emotionally.

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saetoru · 2 years ago

Note

girl same i just wanna sit on nai’s lap and kiss him and squeeze his tiddies is that so much to ask

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。HUMAN — MILLION KNIVES (NAI).

「 SYNOPSIS 」 nai can’t bring himself to hate you—until you almost make him feel human, that is

☽ contents ⋮ gn! reader, slightly suggestive but also not rly, fluff if you squint but also idk if it’s rly fluff, kissing and all that good stuff lolz

☽ notes ⋮ y’all saw his tiddies in todays episode right. we all saw that right. we all lost our minds right. RIGHT.

“nai,” you whisper, hands traveling along his abs, feeling the ridges of his taught muscles before settling for his chest, squeezing slightly as you pant against his mouth, “nai, i want you.”

he scoffs, and he wants to glare at you, but your lips nip at his jaw, suck sweetly at the skin, make his eyes flutter shut and his breath turn erratic as he holds back a grunt when you find a spot on his neck that makes him particularly hungry for you.

nai doesn’t like you.

which is a step up, you suppose—if you were anyone else, he’d hate you. if you were any other human, he’d despise your existence. but, for some unknown reason to even himself, nai doesn’t hate you.

for some reason, it’s hard to hate you—it’s not like he sees value in you, or that he even finds you all that tolerable. you still feed off plants, off his kind, off his brethren. you’re still every bit as guilty as the rest of the disgusting likes of humans. but somehow, he thinks you’re a bit fascinating, so he settles for disliking you instead of his usual hatred.

and it’s not that he makes an exception for you—or so he tells himself, that is. it’s a complicated situation, really: you seated on his lap, his hands gripping your waist, your mouth molding against his, his chest rising and falling with every slow stroke of your palm over the skin. it’s all a bit too complicated when he knows you’re supposed to eventually be dead like everyone else when the time for a new world comes.

because nai doesn’t like you, and he certainly doesn’t need you around—but he does love the way you make him feel when you kiss him like that.

your hands are cupping his cheeks, thumb stroking over the mole on the right side of his face under his eye—and for a moment, just a moment and nothing more, this rare, foreign gentleness of a human erases the atrocities.

but knives dislikes you, and he’ll never give you the satisfaction of knowing he wants you too.

“pathetic,” he spits, “how pathetic of you to think you’ll have me.”

“ah, but i do have you, don’t i?” you hum cheekily. how bold of you, he thinks, how bold and downright foolish you are to speak to him with such confidence, such little regard for your life.

it’s almost as if…as if you trust him. like you trust him not to kill you, to let your bravery slide and look past it. how utterly naive—and yet, it makes him all the more fascinated by you, makes him want to keep you around so he can observe you some more. perhaps kiss you too, and feel the warmth of your hand against his cool skin.

“you’re certainly confident for—” he’s cut off with a small grunt when your mouth finds his again, and then your hand is trailing to find the back of his neck, and then his hair, and then your fingers thread through the locks slowly, deliberately, gently.

like you’re taking care of him, like you’re not using him or taking from him for your own gain. like you’re here just to give and give even if you can’t take.

and for a moment, nai wonders if you’re really human. you must be greater than that, he decides. you must be something far more divine than a human—and it must be why he’s unable to loathe you like the rest of humanity.

it must be it—it has to be, he almost reasons desperately. why else would he of all people melt under your touch like this?

“you can’t get rid of me,” you murmur, pressing sweet, delicate kisses to the corners of his mouth, scratching at his scalp with tenderness he’s only seen once from a human before. “im staying right here, nai. with you.”

“yes,” he decides, gripping your hips tighter, pulling you a tad bit closer, “yes you’ll stay right here. under my watch.”

and then you kiss him again, sat on his lap as your hands explore his chest and your lips chase his own—and nai decides maybe it’s not so hard to hate you, after all.

he hates the way you make him almost wish he was human for a short moment.

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#knives x reader #million knives x reader #nai x reader #knives x you #millions knives x you #nai x you #trigun stampede x reader #trigun stampede x you

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millionswrites · 11 months ago

Text

trigun stampede! brothers as twitter links

mdni, masc reader, bottom vash, no writing just porn

top! knives

01|02|03|04

sub! vash

01|02|03|04

millionswrites

#knives x reader #millions knives #millions knives x reader #male reader #transmasc reader #bottom reader #vash the stampede #vash x reader #trigun smut #trigun stampede x reader #twitter links #knives x reader smut #nai x reader #vash x reader smut

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peachyloveswriting · 2 years ago

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I just loved your writing! So get ready for the highs to come! how Vash, Knives and Wolfwood would react to a reader who is immortal, like Kenny from south park, the reader keeps dying in tragic and horrible ways or even weirdly funny ways in front of them, but for some strange reason, the next day you're alive,as if nothing had happened the day before.

sIf you want to approach it in a somewhat comical way, because in the south park cartoon kenny is cursed by immortality, because his parents went to a satanic ritual because there was free beer. If you want to tackle that part of the story, that's fine with me.

Actually, this is kind of funny. Kenny is my favorite South Park character at this point I know him inside out. Lol. This ought to be interesting. Thanks for the request. I'm actually really excited to write for knives finally! Let me know what you think.

YOU'RE IMMORTAL!? --- Vash, Knives, & Wolfwood

SUMMARY: For years you've wondered where your immortality comes from, your parents never told you so you kept it to yourself. Until the day came that someone remembered.

WARNINGS: Major angst, death, death description, death mentions, trauma. Please continue at your own discretion. I warned you.

NOTES: Vash's part is before he runs into Meryl and Roberto because I'm too lazy to write the other characters reactions as well. Wolfwood's part is short because I spent all my energy on Vash and Knives. I think Knives is my favorite part, I'm cherishing it.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

Vash

"Sleepy head. C'mon wake up." You shake Vash's shoulder to wake him up. He groans before his eyes crack open. At first seeing you he mumbles a greeting before turning over to ignore you. It was right when he was going to turn away that the realization hit him like a freight train. His eyes suddenly open wide, pain swims inside of them as he looks up at you.

There was no way this was possible. Just the night before you had died right in front of him. Your head was blown into bits by some piece of shit bounty hunter. You had nothing to do with this. There was no reason for it to happen and it was all because you got involved with him. He was just starting to accept what happened and now here you are shaking him awake.

"I must be crazy." He mumbles to himself. Tears pool in his eyes and he sits up, bringing his hands to cover his face. "It's not real."

"Vash?" His babbling is confusing. He wouldn't know about you dying would he. No one else seemed to realize, so why would he? His sobs make this almost clear as day. Lifting a hand you rest it on his shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. "What's wrong?" He continues sobbing into his hands and saying things you can't understand. It breaks your heart to see him like this, he's never cried in front of you before he's always been so happy and lucky. What happened?

Sliding your hand across his back and pulling him close, you hug him tightly. With your other hand pressed to the back of his head you tuck it safely under your chin where his teas soak your skin. Quietly you hush him, rubbing soft patterns along his back and whispering soft reassurances until he's reduced to nothing but harsh breathing.

Suddenly he speaks. "You're not real." He claims. Lifting his head to pull away from the hug he securely grabs your biceps. "You've got to be a ghost."

Now it's clear, exactly what's going on. Lifting your hands to cup his face you hush him once more. "It's me Vash. It's really me. I'm still here."

He shakes his head and his bottom lip trembles. "But I watched you die. I even buried you!" He cries.

Frowning, you pull him back into a secure hug. That night is as clear as ever in your head. You were laying flat on your back struggling against a man that pressed his gun to your head. You weren't strong enough to push him away and he pulled the trigger before Vash could stop him. You still remember hearing Vash calling out to you right before you died. He shouldn't have remembered in the slightest. That should have been the only time you'd ever have to see him in a bad mental state over your death. Yet he sat in your arms mentally destroyed by the sight of you.

How would you explain everything to him? Even worse, how could you put him through something like that and expect him to not be upset at you? This is the first time you've ever had to consider these things, it's never happened before. How were you supposed to deal with this?

Vash lifts his head once more to look you in the eyes. "You're not playing tricks on me right?" He asks in a broken voice. The tip of his node is red now and his eyes are puffy too. He even trembles in your touch. Why did it have to be him?

"Vash, I need to tell you something." His eyes don't show any hint of what might come next and that scares you. Anything could happen, the possibilities are endless and not all of them are good. You take a deep breath to quell your frayed nerves. It doesn't work but you try to carry on the calmest you can.

"What I'm about to tell you might make you mad or even make you think I'm crazy but I swear to you what you saw that night and what you're seeing right now is absolutely true. I did die." My hands can no longer hold onto him any more, they shake so hard I can't occupy them at all. Vash suddenly intertwines our fingers together to calm my shaking. I offer a brief smile before continuing.

"I can't die. I'm immortal." Those words are the hardest to say. Now that it's done it feels so easy but I know I might not be able to deal with causing this kind of trauma again.

Vash's hands loosen from mine. "Oh thank goodness!" I'm tackled into a hug. He has me pinned to the ground from his enormous weight and his head is tucked away against my neck. "I thought I really lost you." He lifts his head to look down at me. "You have no idea how happy I am." Tears still flow freely down his face as he gives me that stupid smile of his. It still makes my stomach do flips just looking at it.

"I could kiss you right now!" He doesn't move to do anything even though he's already announced it. He stares at me quietly in anticipation for my response. With wide eyes and a red hot face I nod. He's eager to kiss me right away as his hands find my face in no time at all. Surprisingly he's a lot more gentle than I expected. His lips are so warm and soft against mine. Quick to start but in no time to stop, Vash deepens the kiss for just a brief moment before he pulls away.

"Oh my god I have so much to tell you. I love you so much. I was so worried when it happened, gosh I wish all humans were immortal."

You chuckle at his excitement. "You can tell me all about it whenever you want. I've got all the time in the world."

"Hey. I do too." Vash beams down at you. Your eyes widen and your stomach does somersaults. "Wait, what!?"

Allowing you to sit up, Vash nervously scratches the back of his neck. "I guess I have something to tell you too."

Millions Knives

You woke up in your bed slightly out of it. The events from the day before are ever present in your mind. The little girl the doctor had been escorting everywhere had killed you. It was accidental on the Doctor's behalf but that girl had every intention of filling you with nails. Waking up the next day completely okay isn't out of the ordinary, it's happened before. It's still shocking to die and wake up completely okay it never seems to entirely become a nonchalant process.

You left your room and passed by the very doctor who watched you die. Just like every other morning he gives you a wave as you pass by which you return happily. He doesn't remember which is a good thing. No one has ever remembered you dying before, at least it's yet to come into fruition. You're glad that day hasn't come yet, you're still unsure of what to do when it does.

"Oh, Doc?" You turn to face him. He does the same. "Where's Naï?"

The doctor frowns. "He's been in his room since yesterday." That's strange, Knives doesn't need sleep, so why would he be in his room?

"Thanks." You offer a parting wave as you turn to walk off towards knives room. Knives or Naï, as he lets you call him, lets you stay here in the tower with him. He often enjoys your company throughout the night, everyone finds it bizarre that you won him over. It's obvious that mostly everyone except for the Doc and Naï hates you. Each one of them respects you in the presence of Knives but away from him, they make it known.

The reason why Naï favors you is unknown. He never speaks about it and he always acts like he wants to keep you at arms distance, but it's so much more than that. He's played songs for you on his piano and claims he made them for you himself. He makes sure your needs are met, he gives you food, a bed to sleep in, and keeps you happy. Naï protects you. There have been times where you've needed saving from someone within the building, mostly the ones who hate you. You call his name and he's by your side immediately, it's amazing. Sometimes you wake up to Naï sitting at the end of your bed watching the door, other times you find him tracing parts of your skin with his metal attachments.

You're not scared of him but everyone else is. Even as you step up to his door and lift your hand to knock, you're not scared. Just after your first knock, a scream comes from inside. Wooden shards break apart from the door as his metal tendrils snap through. You scream and drop to the floor with your arms covering your head.

Knives has always seen himself as a being who's incapable of truly caring for another, especially humans. Humans are the very thing he has worked his whole life to get rid of and yet at this moment in time he finds himself scared. The scream that had come from the other side of the door sounded like you, but how? You had died hours before, surely it was someone else.

"Go away!" He warns. His tendrils recede from the door and back inside of him where they seeth with unrest.

Seeing his blades recede you slowly rise to full height, your legs shaking underneath you. "Naï, it's me" Your hand shakes profusely as you rest it along the threshold to keep your balance.

Inside the room, Knives can feel his anger boil. "You dare impersonate them. I'll kill you!" In anger he stands from his bed and extends his tendrils once again. They break through the door, pulling back to rip it away inside the room. He steps forward, releasing his blades from the holes within the broken door to slice his visitor into pieces. For the first time, he feels time slow to a stop. His heart is pounding in his ears and his chest burns hot.

It's not possible. Humans don't have the ability to sustain injuries like the ones he saw from you and walk away unharmed. Humans definitely can't come back to life. He knows it, so why are you cowering in his doorway shaking with fear? Why can he hear you telling him to stop? Why is he scared?

Your arms cover your view again, you know it's a futile effort. He could kill you any time he pleased yet you tried to block it anyway. Surely you were already dead, you'd wake up again in your bed and return back to normal. Instead, rapid footsteps race towards you. Fear consumes you. This nightmare was really still going.

Naï screams your name as he tackles you. His strong arms scooping you into his grasp and sweep you from the floor. Gasping in surprise you open your eyes to find him looking at you in fear. Falling to his knees he releases you onto your knees.

"You died how are you still alive?" His breathing is hard and rapid as his hands raise to cup your face. He's so soft when he touches your skin like he's afraid he might break you if he presses too hard. "I didn't hurt you just now did I?" Panic fills him when you don't respond, his chest begins to ache and his eyes begin to sting.

"Please, speak. I'm so scared right now." This is the first time you've ever heard him beg. He's never sounded so scared before or alone.

"Naï." You wrap your arms around him pulling him into a hug. He can feel you shaking hard against him as small whimpers fall from your lips. He's never known a feeling stronger than the one he feels now. The way his heart tugs at the sound of your cries when he securely wraps his arms around you in fear of this all being fake.

Feeling his arms wrap around you, releases the tension in your body. Suddenly the fear you held onto at the beginning melts away and his smell calms your nerves. His breathing stutters against your neck before he lifts his head to cup your face again. Tears now soak his face and shine with the lights in the room. His hands tremble against you as they hold you.

"I'm so sorry, I scared you." Closing his eyes in disdain, he shakes his head and presses his forehead to yours. "I didn't think it was you- I thought you died."

Your heart aches as you grab his shaking wrist. "Don't worry about that Naï. I'm here. It's ok."

Opening his wet eyes he pulls his head away and grabs your hands. "How are you here? I saw the video. She killed you, I saw your body myself. I swear you... I was so scared. First Vash... But you too."

Pulling your hands from his you raise them to wipe the tears from his face. "Breathe Naï, I haven't left you. I can't even die."

His eyes grow wide as his breath hitches in this throat. "I'm immortal, Naï."

For a moment he stares at you, unsure of whether he can believe your words or not. You're living proof, touching him and talking to him right now. Even when he saw you dead that was real too he was sure of it. Was that really the truth? Could you really not die? Even with his doubt, relief filled him from top to bottom. The corners of his mouth began to twitch upwards into a smile, what he could only describe as joy warmed him.

"My flower..." He coos. "You can stay with me forever?"

You nod. "Yes. Naï. I can stay."

Breaking free of your hands, he pulls you into another hug. The only being he's felt this way towards is you and if he had to say what love is he'd tell someone about you. The joy you bring him is immeasurable to everything else in this stupid world. He'd kill an empire of people just for you and you alone. You are the ultimate being, the one that's just perfect for him.

"I don't know if this is right but I love you." He pulls away.

Heat blooms in your cheeks. Did he really say that? The most powerful being, could snap you like a twig and yet he presses a soft delicate kiss to your forehead.

"Oh Naï. I love you too."

Wolfwood

This was the first time during Wolfwood's contract that he let Vash leave his eyesight. Never before had he experienced enough grief to make him walk away from something like this. Maybe you were just the last straw. For sure he would retire after this. He had something with you and just like that it's gone. He would never feel something like that again, it's just not possible.

Sitting alone in the desert he was sure you called his name somewhere in the distance, for some reason he felt hope before it fell and shattered to the ground. You were gone, there's no reason for his mind to be playing tricks on him like this. He couldn't subject himself to this kind of torture and live on. No. But then it came again and it was closer this time. You called out to him from somewhere in the distance. You begged for him to come back, but he knew it was just a hallucination. Knowing that, he still turned around to see your figure wading through the darkness towards him.

Seeing him turn around, you jogged forward with worry. "Nick! You can't just leave like that. Do you know how worried I was. I've been searching for you since this morning. I thought something horrible happened."

He turned around and didn't say anything. If god was real he was surely laughing at him from hell right now. Just as he thought your memory had left your hands slid around his chest and you pressed against his back. He watched you lay your head on his shoulder with a sigh of relief. Was it even possible to go this crazy?

"You're dead. So stop following me." He grumbles.

Hearing those words fall from his mouth leaves you frozen against him. "You remember?" You stammer.

Suddenly he breaks free of your grasp and stands to face you. "Of course I remember you dying. Did you really have to remind me, you damn trick."

This has never happened before, it would have happened eventually for sure but why did it have to be with him?

"No one's ever remembered me dying before." You mutter.

His eyes widen and he backs away from you, anger laced on his face. Turning away he grabs his cross and settles it on his back. "Stop talking crazy!" With his back turned he begins to walk away. Your heart drops as you rush forward to stop him.

"Nick. Wait!" You trip against the sand. Gritting your teeth, you push yourself to your feet. "I can't die. I'm immortal!" Grabbing his shoulder, you force him to face you. "Feel me! I'm alive and well right in front of you! And maybe I should have said something sooner but I didn't think I'd have to. Nick please just believe me." Tears pool in your eyes. "Please."

Nick's gaze doesn't leave the sand at your feet. The crushed cigarette in his lips falls to the wayside and he sets the cross down. You died, yet you stood in front of him. He could hear you, touch you, it had to be you. How would he know otherwise? Even if it wasn't real what could it hurt to indulge himself just a little bit. So, he drops his facade and reaches forward to capture you in his arms.

You're hard, your skin is squishy and warm. You're not soaked with blood. This is real, it's real. It has to be. "I swear if this isn't real..." He trails off.

Wrapping your arms around him and sighing into his chest, you speak. "I swear it's real. Nick... I'm sorry."

Feeling his legs grow weak, Nick falls to his knees and pulls you down with him. Against you he begins to shake and his breath grows ragged. "You scared me baby." He cries.

You raise and hand to the back of his head and stroke his hair. "I'm so sorry."

#vash imagines #vash imagine #vash x you #vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #millions knives #knives x reader #millions knives x reader #millions knives x you #nicholas wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader

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anyasathenaeum · 8 months ago

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Hello! I feel like I might have already requested this before your ask box was wiped, but how about a virgin!Knives x Reader smutfic?? I love how you characterized him as shy and flustered over the idea of sex in that one crackfic you wrote 😵 I hope you have a great day and life is treating you well!! You're one of my favorite writers regardless of what you write :D

A/N: Hey anon! Yes, I remember this request! I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to it, but here it is! This is my first (serious) attempt at smut with Knives, so uhhhhhhhhh please don't come for me, I tried my best. I've decided to start with some headcanons followed by the fic itself, apologies - it's long. Also, anon - thank you SO much for your comment, you're super sweet and I'm sorry I took so long to get to this. All the best! Warnings: MINORS DNI, Virgin!Knives, AFAB!reader (female terminology is used), hinting towards plants having "heats", a touch of yandere-ish behaviour (it's Knives, so not entirely surprising) penetrative sex, P in V sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), reader is submissive in this one, rough sex, marking, a little bit of a breeding kink, Knives being a Loser™, he's kinda in love with you but the fucker definitely refuses to admit it, name-calling (Knives calls reader things like "slut" and such) Word Count: 3.3k

Virgin!Knives is definitely not nearly as confident and as ruthless as he is in all other points of his life - he might seem like he knows what he's doing, but deep down? Man is SHY, but he'd rather die than have anybody realize that

Seriously, you won't ever hear him talking about sex, and he doesn't even use the word if he can afford to outside of the bedroom

When it comes to his first time, he likes to make it seem like he's in charge and like he fucks all the time, but he's literally just a hair breadth away from cumming the moment you touch him for the first time.

Would absolutely make you ride him (mostly because he has no idea what he's doing), but he plays it off with cool indifference and because he "just wants you to please him".

He tries to make up for it, trying to be more forceful or rough with his thrusts, talking dirty to you and calling you names, but it's a double-edged sword because the moment you're crying out his name and squeezing around him, he sees stars and cums WAY too soon.

Basically, Virgin!Knives is a mess and wants to seem like he's still in charge in bed, but with a few thrusts of your own, driving him deeper and deeper into you, you'd have him falling apart beneath you in moments.

But, of course, because he's not human, his stamina is INSANE and the moment he cums for the first time inside you, it unhinges him (do I sense a breeding kink???) and suddenly he's chasing orgasm after orgasm using you, and you're definitely not gonna be leaving his bed for the next few days.

Full fic below! Enjoy!

"Are you sure this is what you want, Master Knives?"

The question slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself. You just couldn't believe what you were hearing.

Millions Knives, the independent plant who you'd been working for for years, had had you brought to his chambers in the middle of the night so that he could ask you something important.

"Are you questioning me, pet?"

The way Knives glared at you, his gaze cold and calculated, made shivers course down your spine, and you quickly bowed your head.

"No, Master Knives. Not at all. I was merely surprised by your request. I apologize."

Knives simply raised his eyebrow as he continued to gaze at you, taking in your form as you stood before him. You'd initially been just some filthy human he was forced to keep around due to your utility and your skills, but over time, as much as Knives refused to admit to it, you'd grown on him. You were one of the more intelligent of your species, it seemed, and one that seemed to know its place whenever you spoke to him. But, in the end, you were still just a lowly, miserable human, part of the plague that threatened Plants across the planet.

So... why?

Why did Knives feel this... pull towards you? Why did he have to fight the urge to be near you each and every time he spotted you, the urge to tuck you against him with his wing and whisk you away, out of sight and out of reach of all others? Why did he feel rage boiling up within him whenever you smiled or laughed at something somebody else had said? A fair share of other henchmen had lost lives and limbs just for speaking to you (not that you knew that, of course - they just conveniently "disappeared" during a mission).

Beyond just those moments, Knives had also noticed... other things. A warmth that seemed to bloom from whatever part of him had brushed your skin, spreading through the rest of his body until it became full blown heat. This heat was unbearable to resist and made him feel as though it were burning him alive from the inside out, unquenchable even when he took matters into his own hands time and time again.

Knives wasn't a fool. He knew of the lust and the need to reproduce that his kind often felt, but he'd never experienced it himself ever before. Not until you showed up. But, you were part of the very thing Knives had sworn to destroy, so why did his body call to you in this way? Why did his body betray him so? What was it about you that made him feel this way?

"You heard me, (Y/N)," Knives spoke slowly and quietly, his gaze not leaving you for a moment as he lounged on his bed, "I wish for you to stay the night."

"Yes, Master Knives."

"You will not speak of this to anybody," he continued, his voice scarily level, "Or I shall ensure you are permanently silenced."

You simply bowed your head again, your heart pounding frantically in your chest.

You had always had an interest in Knives - asides from being somebody who was hired to work from him, you found him a truly interesting being. An independent plant, more beautiful than any living creature you'd ever seen before, hellbent on exterminating the human race to save his sister plants and trying to find his twin brother, another independent plant. He was always transparent of his end goal, and despite it all, you had still agreed to work for him. After all, humanity was a mess and it wasn't going to get any better - you'd seen proof of that time and time again throughout your life.

So, here you were - working tirelessly so he could achieve his goal.

Although, you hadn't expected to be summoned to Knives's chambers so late in the night, and you certainly hadn't anticipated him to wish for you to stay the night. You'd been summoned to his chambers several times in the past, sometimes for work purposes, other times simply on a whim, and you weren't ignorant of the way you felt around Knives.

His presence made you feel simultaneously safe and on edge, as if something was always just about to occur. As though there were always words hanging in the air between you two, just waiting to be spoken but never truly acknowledged.

Despite his reputation of being unforgiving and ruthless, you'd never been on the receiving end of that side of him, somehow. He could be harsh and sharp with his words and his actions, but he'd never caused you any true harm. You couldn't ignore the way your skin felt as though electricity coursed through it whenever Knives accidentally brushed against you, or the way the heat rose to your cheeks whenever you found him watching you intently. He never looked away immediately whenever you caught him staring at you, simply maintaining his gaze and ensuring to keep eye contact with you for a couple moments before looking away almost lazily, as if he'd grown bored of you. But the fact that he did it so often... could it mean?...

You didn't dare let yourself hope. It couldn't possibly mean anything. After all, you were just a human. Unworthy of him in every possible way.

And yet, here you were, summoned to his chambers in the middle of the night and told you were to stay with him overnight. Your mind was in overdrive, trying to figure out what this meant.

"W-Where am I to sleep, Master Knives?" You inquired softly, not daring to look up at him.

Knives would've scoffed and laughed had it been any other person standing before him, but this was you. His pet, of sorts. And as much as he refused to accept it, you softened him. You weakened him.

"We'll address that later, pet. Come here."

Before you could process everything, you found yourself approaching Knives's bed, stopping right before it and waiting for his commands, not wanting to overstep.

"Did I not make myself clear? Here, pet," Knives all but hissed, making it clear he wanted you right on the bed next to him.

Blushing slightly, you quickly followed his demand, crawling into his bed so you were right by his side. You could feel his gaze on you, and you risked a glimpse at his face - his expression was surprisingly calm, almost curious as he studied you as you sat there next to him on his bed.

"Don't move," Knives whispered quietly, bringing his hand up to your face.

Immediately, you froze, almost afraid to breathe.

"So obedient," you heard Knives chuckle, clearly amused, "What a good pet I have."

Without further comments, you felt Knives's fingers beginning to trace over your skin, skimming lightly over your cheeks and making his way over the bridge of your nose, then down over your lips. His touch was surprisingly gentle, more gentle than you ever thought him capable, but you remained silent as he continued his barely-there touches.

You struggled to ignore the beating of your heart and the roaring of your blood in your ears, your whole body feeling like a livewire. You had to remind yourself not to let your mind wander and make your hidden desires obvious, but something in the way Knives was watching you made you believe that he already knew of your hidden desires. You felt your face heating up even worse than before as you looked away from Knives, suddenly finding the threading of the bedding very interesting.

"I don't understand you."

Knives's sudden voice startled you, making you jump slightly as you sat there next to him. However, you remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"Look at me, (Y/N)."

Slowly, you brought your gaze up to look at Knives, trying not to let your heart beat straight out of your chest as you did so. His icy blue gaze was steady as it trained on your face, still studying you even intently.

"What do you not understand about me?" You asked quietly, steeling yourself as you held Knives's gaze.

After a couple moments, Knives replied quietly, "I don't understand what it is about you that makes my body feel this way. How you, a mere human... are the only one who has the ability to set my soul and my body aflame. I get no rest because of you."

You felt your heart stop for a moment before it began to thunder violently in your chest, your eyes widening in surprise. There was no way that he meant what you thought he meant.

"Master Knives, I-"

"Nai."

You looked at him curiously, and Knives simply continued, "In here, I'm not Master Knives. My name is Nai. You use my name, here and only here."

"Yes, Nai," you replied softly, testing out his name on your tongue.

"I think you know why I've summoned you to stay the night, now. Don't you, (Y/N)?"

You nodded, making Nai smirk slightly, "Clever pet."

Without a second of hesitation, you felt Nai's hand cup the back of your neck, pulling you down against him and slotting his lips to yours in a passionate, lustful kiss.

You let out a small, muffled yelp as you fell forward onto him, your lips pressing against his and your eyes wide in surprise. His taste was surprisingly bright, and you found yourself melting into the kiss, eyes closing and matching his passion in the kiss within moments. You felt Nai's hands burying themselves into your hair as he pulled you on top of him, holding you close to him as he continued to kiss you lustfully, his desire for you overwhelming his typically-controlled self.

Despite the kiss being lustful and filled with desire, you found that Nai's kiss still felt as though he were holding something back. Was it simply due to him not being as invested as you believed him to be? Or was it for some other reason? Regardless, you found your hands coming up to cup Nai's face gently as you continued to kiss him, his hands resting firmly on your hips and holding you in place.

You could feel Nai's hands pressing your hips down hard against him, and underneath his robe and through your clothes, you could feel something hard rubbing against your core. A wanton moan escaped you as Nai continued to force you down onto him, getting you to grind on him as his hands guided your hips. You could feel your pussy beginning to soak through your panties, and your whole body shuddered as Nai pulled away from you, a string of spit connecting your lips together.

You watched as Nai's knives suddenly appeared from him, slowly approaching you. Your eyes widened in fear, and you tried to figure out what you'd done wrong, your whole body freezing and your blood turning to ice. However, the blades of the knives didn't touch your skin, instead the tentacles slowly working their way under your clothing, cutting piece by piece loose and letting the scraps of fabric fall from your body. The tentacles of knives glided across your skin almost tenderly, continuing their work diligently until you found yourself completely naked in Nai's bed, your clothing nothing more than strips of fabric now.

"Worry not, pet. You'll get new clothes," Nai spoke quietly, his eyes eagerly taking in your naked form.

Nai could feel himself getting riled up the moment he laid eyes on your bare skin, his cock hardening beneath his robe as he took in every part of you. You were beautiful, he supposed, for a human.

As he gazed at you, Nai couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like for him to finally take you, to stake him claim on you and to feel you around him for the first time. Of course, he'd never let you know that he'd never done any of this before, instead maintaining his façade of cool indifference and superiority, as if he'd done this so many times that it almost bored him.

Reaching out towards you, Nai pulled you back on top of him, his robe dissipating and allowing you to finally see him, his cock rock hard and throbbing, a glob of pre-cum leaking from the tip. You could see that the same plant markings that sprawled across the rest of his body were also on the shaft of his cock, as well as his tip. Just the sight of him, laid out before and below you like this and clearly wanting you, had your pussy dripping wet. You couldn't believe just how badly you wanted him inside you.

"Well? Go on, pet," Nai commanded, watching you carefully, "Please me."

"Yes, Nai."

You couldn't believe this was happening, but you found yourself feeling excited by the fact that you actually got the opportunity to sleep with Nai. As much as you wished that it could've been more than just sex, you were happy to have this, at the very least.

Slowly, you settled yourself in his lap, your hand wrapping gently around his cock and aligning him with your pussy, letting the tip just barely rest against your entrance. You were surprised to hear Nai hiss as soon as you took hold of him, feeling his body tense and feeling something warm and wet dribbling over your fingers.

"A-Are you okay?" You asked softly, looking at Nai with slight concern, hoping you hadn't hurt him or made him uncomfortable.

"Fine," Nai gritted out, "Don't question me. Remember your place, pet."

Then, suddenly, you felt Nai's hands tighten on your hips, grabbing onto you firmly before pushing you down onto his cock hard.

You let out a cry at the sudden stretch, your pussy stinging at the feeling of being split open so deeply for the first time in a long while, trying to adjust to the feeling of Nai inside you. With him sheathed inside you, you could feel just how big he was - even without moving, he was pressing against the most perfect spot inside you, pulling a whine from your lips.

"Quiet, slut," Nai growled, his hold on your hips bruising your skin as his fingers dug into your flesh.

What you didn't know was that Nai was struggling worse than you were at the moment - he'd never felt such warmth and tightness before, especially not around his cock, and he was trying so hard not to cum then and there. He hadn't expected you to feel so good around him, or for his body to be this sensitive.

However, as he held you against him, you let out a soft whine of pleasure and began to roll your hips desperately, pushing him just the slightest bit deeper into you. Nai's grip tightened on you, and he was about to growl out another command when his orgasm suddenly washed over him.

A choked "Fuck!" slipped from his lips as he involuntarily bucked his hips up into you, wanting nothing more than to bury himself into you even more than before as his seed coated your walls, painting them in white and claiming you as his in a way nobody ever really had before. You let out a moan and clutched onto Nai's shoulders as you felt the warmth spreading within your abdomen, and you couldn't help but continue to roll your hips as you chased your own release, wanting to feel more of Nai inside you.

"N-Nai, please," you whined, continuing to thrust your hips against him, "Want more... need more of you... please..."

Hearing you plead for him, for his cock, to give you pleasure made something in Nai snap.

In a flash, you found yourself laying back in the bed with Nai above you, his cock still buried inside you and still hard as ever. However, now, you could see a fire in his eyes as he gazed at you, his hand coming up and squeezing your breast. The mewl that came from you as Nai touched you made him feel more powerful than ever before, his instincts beginning to take over.

Leaning down and pressing his lips against yours hungrily, Nai began to thrust into you with urgency, his thrusts powerful and deep, pulling moan after moan from you as he continued to fuck you into his bed. He couldn't care less that this was his first time - nothing else mattered right now except for cumming inside you over and over again until you knew nothing but his name and that you belonged to him. He allowed his instincts to take over, the instinct to claim, to mate, to breed, to fill you up until it spilled from you endlessly.

"You're mine, slut. You hear me? Mine."

The growl that came from Nai made your whole body shiver, and the way he sunk his teeth into your neck and left a dark bruise to show that fact to the world made you scream out, partly from pain and partly from pleasure. You were his now, and nobody else would ever have you.

"Say it!" Nai commanded, thrusting into you harshly without stopping. "Say-" thrust "you-" thrust "are-" thrust "mine!".

"Y-Yours!" You cried out, feeling your own orgasm wash over you stronger than ever before as Nai continued to fuck you through it, "'M yours, Nai!"

"Mine!"

Nai slammed his cock into you one final time as he came yet again, filling you to the brim with cum once more. As he recovered from his orgasm, Nai continued to leave marks down your neck, your shoulders, your breasts, working his way down until he was ready to go again, wanting nothing more than to continue this until he could no longer stand it.

"Prepare yourself, (Y/N)," Nai growled into your ear, pulling your body against his hard, "You're to stay with me all night. And I'm nowhere near done."

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