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aizawaz · 10 months

Note

You're my favorite writer, and König is my favorite aussie man, so OF COURSE im making you write for him, hal, BEAR W ME !

Alright, what do you think about König with the “You’re here late.” prompt? The reader is part of KorTac and always worked alongside König, since they both entered about the same time, because of the readers personality, they are always fighting, one of these fights are specifically bad, leading the reader to go on a mission with another KorTac member, to help out somewhere else and take their mind off things, when the reader face a problem on the mission and ends up arriving late, König is furious.

Moths Hit the Window

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Fights with König were always loud, but this time his comments went a bit too far.

WORD COUNT: 5.9k

WARNINGS: Verbal fighting, angst, high tension, blood & stitches, wounds, canon typical violence, guns/weapons, death, suggestive near the end, fluff, hurt/comfort, etc.

A/N: Huge thanks to @idocarealot for the German translations!! Also, König's wearing the arachnid skin in this because I love it sm - enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You seethe. If eyes could turn red yous would be a beautiful shade of crimson—bloody knives ripping out of the cornea to strike whoever happened to get too close. It was as if the very air boiled with the force of a raging tsunami as you stomped down the local military base’s hallways, covered in blood and guts. Never had you reconsidered working for KorTac more than at this very moment.

Maybe I should just become a mercenary, you rip at the torn-apart gloves over your hands and jerk your arm out. Passerbyers quickly avert their eyes as you shove them into a garbage can and continue on with a growl. No shitty rules, no regulations—no fucking partners.

If people happened to slide past without noticing the steam coming out of your ears, they would have immediately locked eyes on the pure elephant of a man trailing fast behind. König’s eyes were goring into the back of your neck, gray and tan garb swaying as the packs and flash grenades on his combat vest bounced with every step. Accents of red do nothing in comparison to his visible flesh—the section of his eyes uncovered by his mask and head rig alight around his obsidian gaze.

König was muttering to himself far under his breath, curses and harsh comments all in German that he wouldn’t say to your face. At least not right now in view of others.

“I can hear you, you dimwit,” you hiss over your shoulder, grinding your teeth as you both make your way to the armory, “curse me out quieter!”

“You are making a scene!” The beast grunts, that heavily accented English striking your eardrums with its harsh dialect.

“Oh, jeez!” You raise your voice even higher, turning back forward and clenching your hands into fists as blood and guts drip off your gear—none of it yours. “I’m just so damn embarrassed, König! I’m making such a large and obnoxious display. Whatever will I do?!” Sarcasm like a valuable drug is injected into the waves of your voice. People from open doorways look out with shock, brows pulled up.

Everyone quickly darts back away when you snap your head in their direction and send them a scathing glare.

No one was surprised to find you and the Austrian going at it again but knew well enough to stay out of the crossfire. Lest someone get roped into it.

“Fuck off!” You spit the last curse into the burning air and shove past a soldier ahead of you.

König’s dark eyes flash dangerously, lips under his mask twisting into a sneer. The man’s shoulders seem to dig in even farther, spine curling over as if a brooding child.

This had all started the second you’d joined up with KorTac. Fresh out of the military and eager to get back into the game after a good vacation the PMC group had been at the top of your list. But if you’d known you’d be paired up with this damn mountain every chance there was just because he’d got into the game at nearly the same time as you, you’d have put in your luck with SpecGru.

“I do not see how this is appropriate behavior,” König follows as you place your palms on the black metal of the armory door, pressing with your shoulders. “I did what I was tasked to do—”

The masked man is cut off as you whirl on your heels, the door slamming shut as his body is shoved into it with strong arms. Dark eyes go wide in surprise, feeling the dig of your nails on his abdomen as your form presses into him and the chill of the door on his spine. You feel his skin bunch under his thick shirt and even if you want to stare him down that’s just not an option. Your warm figures shuffle together with panting breaths and dangerous glints in your eyes.

“Bull,” you drag out the word, growling it right up into his neck; sniper hood caressing your chin. König’s breath hitches with shakes of swirling emotions. “Shit.”

Shoving once more so he gets the point, you push off of him and stalk away like a feral wolf, already unclipping grenades and medical packs from your vest.

“You’re the damn reason the target got away!” Gear is thrown haphazardly to the long table in the center of the room. The Austrian watches with predatory eyes, hands clenched so hard that they quiver. He stays still, watching, as you send scathing glances. “The reason we’re going to be here for ten times longer than we’re supposed to be!”

“It is not my fault you failed to properly check the perimeter before you rushed in like a fool.” Volatile couldn’t be used to describe this…this was nothing short of volcanic. It was as if there were two sides of a scale filled with bullets and gunpowder—fire in the middle that was equally heating both piles as they raised and lowered erratically. König’s voice grates over the air, “I did what I could to fix your scheiße plan!”

“Don’t you shit on my plan!” You point, voice bouncing off the weapon racks as you rip the rifle strap from over your chest, chucking it away.

“I will shit on it—it was…it was…!” König’s voice cuts out and he can’t find the words. The Austrian descends into visceral German ramblings. “Es war so ziemlich der schlechteste Plan, den ich je gehört hab. Welcher halbwegs vernünftige Mensch geht in eine heiße Zone ohne vorher alle Zielobjekte richtig zu markieren?! Ich kann dich und deine Rücksichtslosigkeit nicht mehr leiden — du bringst mich um meinen Verstand! Hast du überhaupt ein Gehirn in deinem Schädel?”

You shake your head to yourself, heart pounding. “You’re still the one that was supposed to focus on the HVT. I rushed so he would flush out, but, no,” taking out the magazine of the rifle you hold it in your hands like an accusatory ruler that a teacher would hold. König shoves off the door and stands to his full height; arms tensed and straining before they coil around his chest in a soothing gesture.

He hated the fighting—the constant strain between the two of you. But when you were together it could never amount to anything else. The room felt like it was a million degrees.

Your eyes stab at him, “No! You had to go and focus on me! I hate to break this to you, König,” feet come forward and you once again find yourself close to him—breathing the same air and taking in the scent of gunpowder and blood. You point the tip of the magazine into his chest. His unseen lips pull; jaw clenching with held-back fire. “But I am not your damn mutt to keep on a leash. I had it under control.”

It’s as if you don’t realize the Austrian could snap you in half with a single kick of his leg, as if the sheer size of König had slipped your mind as a whole. His hands could snap your neck in an instant, but that was only if he got ahold of you.

But that was a line the both of you were never planning to cross. Words were one thing in this profession, actions another. If you ever got into a physical fight, you’d both kill each other, no doubt.

You’d like to think you’re a bit above that, but perhaps not.

König’s chest rises and falls deeply, taking in calming breaths as he tries to get his temper under control. “You didn’t,” he jeers out, “I saved your life, you Heißluftgebläse. And if you wanted to be treated less than a dog,” he grunts to you, head pulling down close to your face, harshly whispering out, “You could have simply asked me, yes?”

You both snarl at each other's throats like rabid animals, the world disappearing all around the obsidian eyes that match with yours; for a moment you get lost in the shining bits of silver in his iris that seem to burn with chilled iron. What little skin you can see is flushed and tight—hawk nose nearly poking out your eye as you’re leaned over like a giraffe near a bush.

Body vibrating, you sharply breathe, “I’m not even going to ask what that fucking means, you tool.”

“Good.” The words are bitten and fast, “because I am not telling you.”

“Great!”

“Perfekt!” You both were arguing like children. Hot faces and unwilling to let the other have the last word. If you got along it might have been funny.

“I’m going to dump all of your Einspänner out on the tarmac.” Your sure voice echoes with a definitive promise to the tone.

Pale lids widen in horror at the threat to the Austrian's favorite beverage, comfortably sitting in the Base’s fridge.

“You would not,” König’s tone is deathly serious and you smirk, eyes dancing. “You…” a guttural growl meets the air, mind translating words and giving meanings, “beast of a woman!”

“Oh, is that the best you can fucking do?!” You yell, splaying your hands out widely and moving away from him. “Now that’s really a show stopper, König, I’m shaking in my damn boots.”

“Ich komm mit dir nicht mehr klar.” König yells, moving back and placing both of his hands atop his head, knuckles white. “You’re rude—you do not even try to get along. You are loud and disrespectful; how do you live like this?!”

Your eyes slightly widen, watching the Austrian.

“Don’t try?” You echo, scoffing loudly. “What do you mean don’t try? I was the one to try and smooth things out between us in the beginning.”

“When?!” König spreads his hands out, knees slightly bent. “Because I have no recollection of such events.”

“Well of course you wouldn’t!” The heat was meeting a breaking point—words were getting more personal, sharper. Like a blade being honed for the kill slowly; being sharpened by rocks and whetstones of conviction.

König points a finger at you, voice going low and thin, “I’ve had enough of you, yes?” His sniper hood moves rapidly with his fast ricochets of breath. “Just about enough. Would you have wanted me to let you die?”

“I had it,” your lips spit, nose scrunched, and forehead tight. The man’s chest vibrates with a mute growl.

In all actuality, you’d never seen him this worked up before. König wasn’t above giving your quips back even if he obviously disliked it—most of that was due to the strange familiarity between the two of you. In large crowds, the man preferred to stay silent. This only added to his almost deadly aura with others, though you knew the muteness was because of social anxiety and not some built silence. He wasn’t shy per se, just afraid he’d say something wrong; mess up the conversation. You did most of the talking in meetings and you never minded it. Added him in when the topic was something he knew a lot about.

Your mind had addled it up to thinking it was cute, actually. How his feet would shuffle; his half-lidded gaze and his intense eye contact to let them know he was still listening. When he’d have to remind himself to look away with a pinch to his thigh because it was starting to seem threatening. It was endearing, even.

But around people König knew, well, he was going to speak his mind. No matter how long it takes his brain to catch up with his lips.

The only thing the two of you were good at was being moths—hitting the metaphorical window over and over on the same topics and tension points. Slamming heads and flapping wings. You were at the end of your rope just as he was.

“I should have never taken you as a partner!” He calls, feet splayed. “Should have gotten out of this the second you were assigned with me. Gott, ich hab wirklich versucht, dich zu verstehen — Ich hätte gleich aufgeben sollen.” Your lips thin, lungs stalling as all the air vacates the room. You stand still and listen to what he really thinks, fingers shaking.

König’s large form towers over all, great sparks of electricity flying out. His gear shakes as he moves, thigh straps pushing fabric to shift and conform to his body. Your blood pumps with brewing hesitance.

Maybe this had gone too far. I’ve never seen him like this.

“I can’t stand you any longer! Pathetic squabbles that mean nothing, absolutely ludicrous plans that make little headway.” Your head bursts with aggression and what little warning signs you have are squashed. “I can’t keep saving you because you can’t do your job correctly!”

“You don’t have to save me at all!” You scream. “You can’t keep your damn eyes off of me for five seconds, König.” Feet move away quickly from the armory door as if someone had come to put away their stuff but thought better of it. The next words burst from you before you can think of the contents. “It’s like you fucking love me or something!”

König doesn’t miss a beat, but for months afterward, he wishes he had.

“Oh, do not make me laugh—” he scoffs ferally, adrenaline making him talk, “as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place.”

Twin eyes widen and both parties immediately fall silent. A sharp inhale.

Too far.

Under the hood, König’s face goes an embarrassing shade of red all the way down to his chest. Fingers freeze. Jaw slackens.

You feel like your heart was just grasped in his grip and ripped out of your ribs with one violent motion—one sentence out of all the others enough to knock down the rebuttal that had formed on the tip of your tongue. Your throat closes up as you blink in shock.

“I-I…” König stutters, mind blanking as he struggles for words. But anger was easier than pain.

Numb fingers rip off the last of your weapons and belongings as you let them hit the floor with defining thuds as warm shame floods your cheeks. Shaky puffs of breath like a panting dog. Dark eyes watch with regretful panic, heart jumping and eyes flinching. The adrenaline it…it made him forget himself on occasion—how to properly act when not on the battlefield. It was like that with everyone but…but he hadn’t meant that.

Shame that it’s already too late.

Your fisted hand slams into his chest, brutal and unforgiving. König lets off a grunt but does nothing as you slither past, hissing into his ear, “Find yourself a new punching bag.”

His hand snaps to his breast where you had slammed your KorTac patch right into his heart, catching it. It’s many moments before he can think enough through the alarm; form words.

“I…I didn’t…oh, du blöde Kuh!”

By the time the man composed himself, panicked tears burning in his eyes, the door had already slammed shut. His feet squeaked over the tile to an empty audience.

—

Private Military Companies don’t have ranks. There are no Sergeants, Lieutenants, Generals or Colonels. Just people. Beyond the orders you’d been hired on, there was nothing keeping you in line with König on this mission. And those orders were loose at best.

Adhere to policy and listen to the Base’s COs. Shut up and get the job done.

The Austrian and you weren’t due out for another week because of rotations. Since you’d failed to capture or kill the HVT that you were assigned, another group had picked up the tracks in the meantime. Like an oiled machine, the gears of this operation kept whirling.

Evolve, or die.

“Lieutenant!” You call to the geared-up man on the tarmac—the one heading that very same group. It had been only a few hours since the incident in the armory. You needed a distraction; blood was still running high and brain pounding for release. There were only so many times you could bruise your fists and legs on a punching bag before people started giving you nervous looks. “Need an extra hand?”

Your voice sounds strained, even to you. The man looks you over once and narrows his eyes. Nods not moments later.

“Get tired of your big friend? Okay, how fast can you be ready for me?” You feel your shoulders loosen, a relieved sigh exiting your lips.

“Three minutes.”

“...get to it then. We move in five.”

So that was how you found yourself backed into a corner five hours into the op from hell—bloody knife held tightly in your grip and mouth open in ragged pants.

“Fuck,” your vest is torn and riddled with bullets; your entire chest must be bruised by now because it surely aches like it is. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You really are reckless, just like König had said you were. Maybe you’d just never realized it because he always seemed to watch your six. This…this was really bad. The comms were awash with screaming orders and panic, ringing out across the abandoned mining factory that exploded with light from gunfire and the sounds that accompanied it. You knew for a fact three soldiers were down; two KIA.

The Lieutenant is one of them.

Your hand snaps to the radio strapped to your chest, one eye squinted in pain at the ragged slice across your left brow line. At your feet, two heavily armed men lay dead.

“Pull back! They knew we were coming!” But your word didn’t carry weight here. Your face twists between pain and rage. König’s comment still rings in your ears as the onset of tinnitus does, as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place. It wasn’t ideal to be thinking about this now—it was detrimental that you didn’t.

But König and the things he did often stained your brain. No matter how much you tried to distance yourself from that fact.

Snapping the knife in your grasp down in an arch to dispel the blood from the blade, you take a steel-laced inhale and shove off the wall. Limping, but moving. Sprained ankle. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.

The concrete under you is splattered with crimson viscera and you stumble over spasming bodies riddled with bullets. With a subdued shink you slip your knife into its thigh sheath, grabbing the FTac Recon strapped around your chest after slamming a fresh mag into it. With a numb calm overcoming you, you slip your forefinger into the trigger guard, poised over the easy press of the trigger itself.

The long shadows spread over you; your head illuminated by the dull sheen of the moon as you pass under a stretch of open sky to slink into the building across the empty street. Feral yells still bounce off the air and you go to them readily, purpose settling in your veins.

Pain flies to the back of your mind, displaced by adrenaline and the rabid puffs of breath that fall like grinding thunder from your lips.

You wonder what König’s thinking right now—he’d without a doubt noticed that you were gone. He’d even probably gone to your barracks room to try and apologize and found it empty. That was just how he was.

Would he be happy? You wondered. Relieved to see you out of his life? You’d both done nothing but fight, but there were moments of peace. Understanding.

Shared meals and comfortable, yet sarcastic, comments; soft glances when the other wasn’t looking. Heat in your face and obviously shown on his when shy hands brushed.

Your hold tightens on your gun, brows dripping with sweat as it dribbles down along with the blood. Gunfire flashes.

Closer now.

Shadows scream on top of a raised walkway attached to an in-mountain compound, targets with trigger fingers firing on your fellows who take cover behind crumbling walls. Pinned down. You watch, unseen, from a broken window as dust and moths collide.

Your eyes lock on the closest hostile and you raise your weapon slowly, barrel resting on the frame between shattered glass. You clock the distance and adjust accordingly; breaths falling steady.

The small insect that keeps hitting the window plays in your mind over and over—drowning out the yells; the fire.

Just a moth readily willing to smash into that barrier until it dies. You hum under your breath and rest the gun into the crook of your shoulder, cheek to stock.

Your finger slams into the trigger.

—

You stumble out of the loud infirmary with a bloody rag pressed deeply into your forehead, medical pouch under one arm. You hear rushing feet and barked orders from nurses and doctors just before the door closes, cutting off as you stake out on your own.

Limping, you reason there were others with more severe wounds than your own; as blood drips from your flooded rag, your feet take you deep into the base one broken step at a time. You’d figure it out yourself.

Plus, the silence would give you time to think. Think about König.

You just gritted your teeth and decided that was better than taking up space in the infirmary.

In times like these, the Austrian would fix your wounds for you, just as you did his. While you had your disagreements and heated fights, he’d never made it as personal as he had hours beforehand. Never made it hurt.

“Jesus,” you mutter, rubbing your other crusty hand over the mud along your chin. Everything ached and you don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing.

Flinching along like a downed bird, you shove through into the last door into the barracks; thoughts now stuck on finding a chair to sit down on before your legs gave out. The darkness of the common area was deep—staining your eyelids as you grunt, bumping into the back of the couch.

It’s almost funny the way the lamp flicked on mere moments later.

You hiss, eyes snapping shut as the rays attack your sight, rendering you blind for a moment. The shaking hand on your dripping rag tightens before the spark of pain makes you lighten the pressure.

There’s a dark grunt just as you open your eyes back up.

“You are late.” König.

He sits in one of the chairs—sniper hood still over his head yet only clothed in a large compression shirt and casual camo pants. Like a disappointed parent, the Austrian’s arms were crossed over his chest; feet resting out and crossed at the ankles. With such a big stature the look could strike fear into anyone.

Anyone but you, that is.

König’s dark eyes rove over you, stopping immediately on the fabric you keep to your forehead. The previous, furious, tone stops and the flash of very real concern takes precedence. His hands tighten on his biceps, thighs tensing over the cushion; spine just a little bit straighter.

You watch and say nothing—dead-faced.

Your heart suddenly skips beats, stuck into the framework of the man’s eyes. König’s brows peel back and a timid stutter stays in your breast.

“...Vögelchen?” Lids blink rapidly, and before you can register anything because of your blood loss and fatigue, you’re being dragged to the couch and forced to sit down.

Strong hands encompass your shoulders and small breaths flutter in front of your face as König peels back to kneel in front of you; spying the medical pouch in your under-arm.

“What is this?” He mutters to you, vision flinching along your body but always dragging back to the bloody rag on your face. “What did you do to yourself?”

Scarred hands raise before pausing, obsidian eyes staring deeply into yours as if in frantic question. Your own gaze keeps him close, spying on his veiled fear at the sight of your blood and your disappearance. He’d heard about the mission, then, that much was upfront because of his earlier comment.

The humvee had been late arriving back. Half an hour.

“Fuck off,” you utter, shoving off the couch before you’re captured in an unyielding press again, shoved down. Your anger spikes along with your unease, “König! I don’t have the patience—”

“I’m sorry.” The fight leaves you.

Fingers squeeze your biceps, hold lightly shaking with nerves. “I did not mean it.” Obsidian pierces you, “Please, Vögelchen, I am sorry. Utterly. I speak so fast I misplace words—get far more,” words fail as you stare so intently at him, a strange feeling swirling in your gut. König’s face was going crimson again, though not from anger. His tone was deep and honest, accent becoming more whole with emotion. The hands on your skin stay. “Rude than I intend. It is not an excuse, but…”

In the horizontal oval of his hood, you spy the dots of tiny freckles; the whispers of auburn hair. That hawk nose still points violently from behind the fabric. König never finishes his sentence, just takes a large breath and looks to the side after a moment of silence.

Then he steals the medical pack from your grip and opens the zipper with firm fingers, taking out gloves and gauze. Needle and sutures. It’s all placed on the side table as the bear of an Austrian stays on his knees for you—bending and shifting as the bottom of his shirt rides up.

It’s a tense affair of touching skin; warmth and hissed curses. Gentle shushing. But you say nothing through it. Until he’s up in your face trying off stitches with forceps and a needle holder, breath making his hood lightly caress your bloodless face. His fingers are large and firm, never second-guessing or stuttering over the course of directing tools that dig a needling and thread into your flesh.

He’s warm and every motion elicits shivers. You see his form from the side of your eye; his face’s outline as the lamp light illuminates the hood’s fabric. Shadowy silhouette of König’s strong jaw that shifts with every other breath from his wide chest.

“You’re an asshole for saying that to me, y’know.” you slip your gaze away just as he snaps over. “Adrenaline or not.”

The needle pauses and a swift nod is given.

“I…I know it was. No amount of apologizing can explain how very horrible I feel. It was like I was so…so…” An annoyed grunt was leveled at himself.

“Pissed off?” You offer quietly.

“Yes! Pissed off.” Amused glances were shared, the air slowly smoothing out between the two of you. Dark eyes quickly look away from yours and König clears his throat terse-like. But softer, steadier, “I…could not bear it if I were to see you in harm and be unable to assist you. That…is why I was watching. Why I do watch you.”

Inside of you, it was like there was a pot of water on the stove, steadily boiling under the heat. Your eyes are delicately wide when the man’s hands leave your face; kneeling body still tall enough to stare into you.

“You are…” König pauses, but not to find the words. To ready himself. He takes a long breath. “You are special to me, my Vögelchen. I can not see you hurt,” a gesture to your forehead and creased eyes. As if your pain was his own. “Not like this.”

“What are you saying, König?” You whisper, face twisted with hurt and confusion. Apprehension. “You’re giving me mixed signals. We always fight with each other. I’m not saying I’m blameless, but…c’mon, now. Look at us.”

“Not…always.” He grumbled like a child, tools placed away and hands dripping blood before he slips the gloves off. They meet the side table with a tiny toss. The Austrian leans back onto his ankles, butt to heel. He begins to look at your forehead and you can practically hear his heart break. “I do not like arguing with you, you know that, yes?”

“Me neither,” you whisper, fingers fiddling as a sheen of anxiousness sets in. “You just,” you pause, “confuse me.”

König blinks in surprise, head tilting and large eyes shimmering. Your mind flashes to a curious cat and you try to explain with a burning face and fast lips.

“You say we’re partners but you never act like it,” he stares and listens. When had you both had a conversation like this before? “You make it seem like you can’t trust me to do the simplest task. I’m not,” your voice betrays you, cracking, “I’m not that useless, am I?”

He freezes, muscles going taunt.

“U-Useless? Nutzlos? No, no,” A hand comes to capture your chin and you let him move you where he wishes. Creased eyes lock on yours. “That is not right. You’re not useless to me—how could you be?” Pained brows move in, “did I make you think like this? Like I did not appreciate your skills?”

Your eyes burn, and the aches from your wounds mix with the pure fatigue in your flesh to leave your emotions running between sanity and sadness. A moment later you’re turning your head away.

König recaptures it, hands finding both sides of your cheeks. He looks shaky; desperate.

“No, please, Vögelchen, please. I need you to look at me.”

“König, I don’t—” You close your mouth before you let out the beginnings of a sob. “I can’t keep fighting with you.”

“I know, oh, I know,” his hands are so grounding it’s like you’re the inner pages of a book, and his grip the thick leather cover—leather laced with shared scars and the same that had stitched you up countless times. This push and pull had to end. “I cannot fight with you either—it tears me apart. Oh, du weißt gar nicht, wie sehr es mich schmerzt, dein wunderschönes Gesicht anzuschreien. Mit dir zu streiten bedeutet, meinen Verstand und mein Herz gleichzeitig zu brechen.” König’s thumbs run up and down your skin, still bloody with dried flakes falling to the ground. He seems not to care a bit.

“What can I do to fix this? Anything. Anything to get us to stop doing this to each other.” You stare into his eyes, both creased and glazed over.

There’s a brief moment where you wonder if anyone truly even knew you as well as König did—there was no one else that you shared such a deep connection with. Years upon years of being stuck at his side.

And someone else’s hands had never felt as good as his. They were hard and callused over but cupped your face as gently as one would cup water from a rippling stream. His eyes were stars; visible skin like porcelain, his breath raised a large and wide chest with a fast-paced heart. You could sense his throat trapping air.

König kneeled to you and bared himself.

Anything, he had said, to fix what he had said. To stop this.

There was one way you could think to stop this—it might not have been smart, certainly not, but…hmm…You gradually raised your hand raised from your lap and slipped it under the front of König’s hood.

Slowly, with all the delicateness of a glass dragonfly, your fingers strayed to the side of his neck to press into tight flesh. A rapid pulse.

The man goes to stone. It’s like you’ve stolen his nervous system. Dark eyes stay locked onto yours as you gaze back, hand dragging nails up with a light pressure near to the speed of a slug.

König whispers your name into the empty space and the oxygen seems to dry up. Warm light from the lamp cast phantoms on walls and over skin in a small moment of foreign discoveries. The Austrian swallows saliva and you feel his neck flex. You don’t answer him, just watch and feel his own hands tighten on your cheeks in warning.

But you never listen, do you? Reckless you were called. And König had been right.

You were reckless.

Your hand had now explored like a map the indents of hidden facial scars; long and short over jaw and lips. The hand that was doing this had hiked the sniper’s hood up around your wrist so that the man’s lashes were twitching as the fabric got too close to his eyes. And you watched. And so did he.

A twin pair of moths hitting a glass window, staring from opposite sides at one another until they realized the break in the frame.

“Anything?” You ask in a loose tone, barely heard above the flood in both of your ears.

König was breathing heavily but didn’t pull away. Pupils wide and body heavy to your touch. His spine briefly straightened, until he realized he had moved back slightly and immediately hunched again if only to keep your hands on him.

“I…” he grunts, “A…anything.” Fingers touch his nose, they spread under the hood to trace the bumps and marks he keeps hidden like buried treasure. Your vision takes in the otherworldly hue on his visible skin; the glaze of rapture in his eyes yet still that ingrained heat.

Your body shivers at the gravel in his accented English.

Fingers stall over his lips, hood showing you the pale being of König’s strong chin and jaw. You shift your touch to the side and find chapped lips revealed to you, a small palate scar that had healed to nothing more than a line up to his nostril.

You spare it nothing more than a glance before you look back into obsidian. Dark ether and dead galaxies devoid of stars. Swallowed in a sea of pasts and futures. You look for hesitation; for disgust.

You find none.

“You said that no one could ever love someone like me,” your head leans in, and your breath mingles together with an intimacy that had never been shared between this type of partners. König, as if broken from a spell, takes down a swift inhale of air into his stiff lungs. He stares with far back lids. Flashes of unidentified emotions. “Why did you say that?”

A moment of silence and of rabid hearts. The man’s lips twitch over yours as he answers slowly, not breaking eye contact for a moment. As if he did he’d be turned to rock. As if he’d miss something amazing from happening.

He speaks with a whispered confession.

“Because if they did—I would have to kill them. Because no other than I would be able to love you more.” Your world slows and your ears strain with the breathy words.

Face burning your lips part with shock and awe. Violent to any other, but to you this was a confession from a man that could meet you blow for blow—calm you and infuriate you all in one. Challenge you, but knew when he’d gone too far and how to properly apologize.

He’d waited in that chair for you all night, you’d realized.

For you to come back to him. His partner.

You press your lips to his and hear his pitiful sounds of gasped reassurance. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you let saliva drip off of your chins to splatter onto bent knees and shaking thighs.

König’s arms cage you; capture your waist and draw you closer, lips breaking apart before you both share a wide-eyed look of momentary pause. There was no room to breathe; to think. Chests hit together and fingers tighten to a tendon-visible hold.

The man's growing smile is wide from where you still hold his hood up by his nose, and with a lick of his red and wet lips, he reconnects your awaiting mouths.

This time, you’re the one to gasp.

“Lass mich zeigen, wie leid es mir tut, Vögelchen.”

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aizawaz · 1 year

Text

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

! Minors dni !

Fingering headcanons ; Vash x reader ; Wolfwood x reader

Warnings: afab!reader , fingering , slight impact play , slight temperature play , praise , just a whole lot of pussy worship

! Nsfw below !

Vash absolutely adores fingering you, it’s his favourite pastime. He loves being in control of your pleasure, and boy is he good at it.

He knows every single spot that gets you all whiney, a proud smile curling his lips every time he earns a breathy “Right there!” or “God, don’t stop..”. Vash has every one of your sweet spots stored in his memory, and it has your mind foggy with every stroke of his fingers.

If he’s feeling extra playful or just in a giving mood, he’ll finger you with his prosthetic arm, the cold metal of the fingers making you shiver and your eyes roll back into your head. Vash’ll even alternate between his two arms, the contrast in temperature always manages to have your toes curling.

Also, if you’re okay with it, Vash will finger you while wearing his glove. I mean, he wears them on his two middle fingers for a reason, right? The rough material of the fabric makes you cum so fast and so hard, and Vash can’t help but marvel at how your juices soak his glove, turning it an even darker black. He’s had to throw away a few gloves before, but it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. He loves making you feel good, even if it’s at his expense.

Vash makes it his mission to have you cumming on his fingers at least 3 times before he actually gets down to business. He can’t help it when your pussy just clenches so good around his slender fingers. Bonus points if he can make you squirt.

His favourite position to finger you in is to have your back against his chest, having you on full display as his deep blue eyes are glued to how you gush around his fingers. This way Vash can whisper as many praises as he desires, telling you how pretty you are and how good your perfect pussy sounds and feels.

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

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

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

“So perfect..”

——————————————————

Wolfwood isn’t as gentle as Vash, if anything he’s the other side of the coin. He fingers you before and after sex, he’s a greedy man. He loves how you whine and weakly push his hand away, saying how sensitive you are as he pushes his cum back where it belongs.

His fingers are calloused from carrying around that heavy cross every hour of the day, and he knows how to use them. Wolfwood’s fingers scrape against every bump and dip of your pussy, making you jolt and cry out every time.

Will slap your pussy if he thinks you’re cumming too fast. He loves to rile you up as much as he can until you’re begging him to just let you cum, your voice like heaven to him.

Wolfwood’s fingers are thicker than Vash’s as well, and they stretch you out so good it has you practically drooling every time he pushes them into your sopping pussy.

His favourite position to finger you in is having you on your back, holding your legs to your chest as Wolfwood hovers over you, abusing your cunt with his rough fingers. If he notices that your legs are closing, he’ll give your pussy a slap, warning you to keep your legs open or else he’ll leave you high and dry.

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

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

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

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

——————————————————

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

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun smut #vash the stampede #trigun vash #vash x reader #wolfwood smut #wolfwood x reader

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aizawaz · 1 year

Note

Tee imagine being vash’s first kiss :(

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。FIRST — VASH THE STAMPEDE.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ vash has never fallen in love—not before you, that is (2.1k words)

☽ contents ⋮ mutual pining, slightly jealous vash (of nicholas), confessions, fluff

☽ notes ⋮ i don’t even think this has anything to do with the ask anymore LMAO i got carried away but here <3

“nico, get your grimy fingers off my share,” you huff, shoving nicholas’s fingers away from the last few bites of your lunch.

food is scarce these days—more so than usual, and you don’t even try to hide your hunger when you finally find a place to grab a bite. vash eyes you as your lips are curled into a soft frown, the crinkle of your brows making his throat dry—because you’re cute, even with a look of pure irritation on your face, you’re soft and angelic and you make his heart skip a beat.

“c’mon, give me a bite or two,” nicholas chuckles, sneaking his way back to reach for your share of food, “you try carrying that big ol’ cross around all day.”

this time, you slap his hand away, huffing as you shift closer to vash to put extra distance between you and nicholas. vash has to keep himself from leaning in when he feels the warmth of your body radiate against him at the proximity.

“oh, you’re such a jackass, y’know?” you grumble, rolling your eyes at the easy chuckle nicholas gives you. but vash can see it—the beginnings of a smile you try (and fail) to fight back as you shake your head. “you’re the one who insists on carrying such a flashy weapon.”

“well it saved your pretty little head a few times didn’t it?” he shoots back. nicholas is easy to talk to like that, banter filling the air between you as you dance around each other with petty taunts and sly grins and stolen touches through pokes to the forehead.

vash thinks the only time he’s ever touched you is to pull you away from danger. in fact, he thinks it’d be easier to fight off an entire city after him than pluck the courage to reach out and flick your forehead the way nicholas does. it’s so smooth, so simple, so natural—and he can from tell the way your eyes soften for nicholas that it must be love.

he glances down at his food, feels his appetite dwindle and his chest tighten, and soon enough there’s an extra share of food pressed to your hand as he stands up.

“i’m not hungry,” he smiles softly, “you have it.”

you blink for a moment before opening your mouth to protest. “but vash—”

he’s off before you can finish talking, climbing into the van and closing the door while everyone stares after his figure and blinks. you frown, looking back at nicholas who only grins wider, holding a hand out for the half eaten dinner in your hold.

“well, don’t be greedy. share the goods,” he insists.

you roll your eyes, pulling away from his outstretched hand as you glare at him.

“something’s wrong,” you announce. meryl and roberto share a look, glancing quickly between you and nicholas again before continuing eating, making your brows furrow. “you guys know, don’t you?”

“everyone does, sweet cheeks,” nicholas chuckles, shaking his head, “you’re a bit more oblivious than i thought.”

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” you glare, but he only eyes you with amusement, turning back to finish the last few bites of his dinner before standing up and walking off, mumbling about needing a smoke under his breath.

you stare back at the van, unsure whether or not you’re supposed to go after vash—whether or not he even wants you there. it takes you a few moments of contemplation before you ultimately stand up, earning a look from meryl and a sigh from roberto.

“i’m gonna go after him,” you announce.

it doesn’t take long to walk up to the van and climb in, finding vash sitting slouched on his side of the back seat, looking out the window. he almost looks…defeated—it’s a type of vash you don’t think you’ve ever really seen.

“vash?” you ask softly, making him tense for a moment before he glances at you, offering a poor attempt of a reassuring smile.

you don’t think vash has ever successfully hidden an emotion ever in his life. for as long as you’ve known him—though it’s not been that long—he’s worn his heart on his sleeve and his emotions bared before you whether he means to or not. you sit down beside him, staring at your lap as he stares out the window again.

“hey,” he says quietly, “why aren’t you with everyone else?”

“why aren’t you?” you counter gently.

“ah, well,” he chuckles nervously, painfully aware of how close your knees are from brushing, “just wanted to sit. and think, i guess,” he says quietly.

“about what?”

“just stuff,” he mumbles.

he doesn’t want to tell you he thinks about how he must be in love with you, doesn’t want to admit as much when you’ve clearly got someone else in your heart. vash has never fallen in love—but he thinks if he’d have to give the feeling a label, it’d be you.

he thinks it has to be love when the first pair of eyes he searches for are yours, making sure you’re okay before he even thinks about checking on anyone else. what else could it be besides love when even if for a split second, the very thought of you being in danger makes his gun leave its holster and ready to aim. if not love, he’s not sure what else it could be when he’s so nervous around you, he feels words stick to his throat like he’s choking.

vash has never fallen in love before, but there’s no mistaking this feeling now that it hits him.

you’re kind—maybe a bit more than you should be to him since he does nothing but drag you into danger. the rational part of him wishes you’d stop coming with him wherever he goes, it hopes you’ll see you have so much to live for outside of cleaning up his messes. the more desperate part of him feels nauseous at the idea of you going your separate ways—he can protect you, can’t he? the desert is a dangerous place with or without him and if you’re in danger one way or another, you should stick by his side where he can keep an eye on you.

no, vash has never been in love—but he’s sure as hell seen it happen before his own two eyes in the many, many years he’s lived.

and he knows you’re in love with nicholas with one painful glance.

“c’mon vash,” you nudge his shoulder with your own, “we’re friends, i know you better than that. something’s wrong. are you upset about what those people in that last town said to you? because i’ll march right up to them and give them hell and back if—”

friends.

he’s tuned you out, too hyper focused on that awful burning sensation pooling in his chest, the one that hits him as soon as you use that cruel word. of course vash is just your friend, why wouldn’t he be? he can’t remember the last time someone actually wanted him around at all let alone as something more.

he doesn’t even notice your hand reaching for his until it lays over his fist, gently unclamping it from the fabric of his coat. he doesn’t even notice he’s been fisting it this whole time, doesn’t even notice his shoulders are tense until you lean your head on it.

“you don’t have to tell me,” you murmur gently, “i’ll wait here with you.”

“why?” he can’t help but ask, can’t help but wonder why you care to spend your time here when you could be there. with nicholas. without him.

“because i care about you.” you say it like it’s obvious, like he should already know that.

perhaps he does—you do care about him, he can see it with the way you help clean his wounds and scold him for being reckless…just maybe not in the way he wishes you would.

“are you ever going to tell nicholas how you feel?” he asks.

you sit up, shock on your face and a crease in your brows as you stare at him in bewilderment. he almost thinks he’s asked something out of line, something he should apologize for. but before he can offer you a stuttered apology, you beat him to it.

“what?” you chuckle. “do i look like i feel something for nicholas?”

“you don’t?” he sounds shocked, making you blink.

“no,” you shake your head, grimacing like the idea is an unpleasant one. “he’s a nuisance i tolerate at best.”

“oh,” is all he says, surprised. it’s silent for a moment before he hesitantly asks, “is…is there someone?”

he doesn’t want to know the answer either way. yes means the pain of knowing there’s someone else he has to let you go to. no means it’s not him even with no one else to compete with at all. but he figures whether your answer is yes or no, it’s enough to force him to let go.

“well…” you hesitate for a moment, inhaling before letting out a shaky breath and slumping back to his shoulder, “can i be honest?”

“of course,” he says instantly.

“i don’t know how you’ll take it,” you admit quietly, and he can hear the slight shakiness in your voice—like you’re nervous, like what you’re about to say will change everything.

but vash knows no matter what you’ll say, no matter what you’ll ever do, he’ll still keep loving you even if you don’t need him to.

“is it embarrassing?”

“no,” you shake your head, “well, maybe a little. depends on how you react. i might look stupid.”

“can’t be worse than running out of bullets,” he smiles softly, “i bet i looked pretty stupid then.”

“a little,” you admit, giggling. and then you both laugh softly, your cheek against his shoulder and your hand gently clasped over his. distantly, you can hear nicholas ask where you are—and you know it’s not long before you’ll lose this rare moment alone. so you take a deep breath, stare at your hand over his as you mumble, “i think i love you. a little. actually, that’s a lie—a lot. like, a whole lot.”

he blinks.

he feels his breath hitch and your shoulders tense and his heart race all at once. for a second he thinks he might’ve heard you wrong—but then you whisper how you understand if he doesn’t feel the same way, how it’s okay, really! you understand, it’s not his fault and you can still be friends because you’re fine with friends. just as long as he’s still in your life because he’s important to you and friends is better than nothing at all.

and then he cuts you off with a soft chuckle, making you pause and glance up at him with doubt on your face.

“can i be honest too?” he smiles gently, melting your heart even as it shatters just a little in your chest.

“of course,” you whisper.

“i love you too. not a little though. a lot. i thought you had a thing for nicholas, though—”

“nico is rude and smells like smoke. i wouldn’t kiss him if my life depended on it,” you interrupt with a crinkle of your nose, making him chuckle with bright eyes and love scribbled over the curves of his features.

he leans in, presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes when your hand cups a cheek gently.

“good,” he murmurs, “but don’t worry, i’ll keep you safe. your life will never depend on kissing him.”

“good,” you hum, “because i only want to kiss you.”

and then you do, slow and sweet and so in love. it’s his first kiss—he doesn’t really know what to do, but he follows your lead and learns fast, soft lips molding with yours and mingling your warm breath with his. vash doesn’t even care he’s gone this long without feeling something as gentle as being in love. he’s in love now, with you—and he’s glad you love him too and not nicholas wolfwood, the man who keeps trying to steal dinner from under your nose.

“are you two done in there already?” nicholas is pounding on the door, making you pull away with a sour look on your face. “we got places to be. better not be baby making where i’m about to sleep.”

“can’t you make one exception and kill him?” you whine, making vash chuckle before he leans to kiss you again, more chaste this time. and again, and again.

vash has never fallen in love—and he’s sure it’s because he was meant to wait this long to fall in love with you.

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aizawaz · 1 year

Text

I haven’t posted in a long while, so here’s a little Itto drabble I came up with to make up for it. Enjoy <3

! A/N ! : Hyperosmia is having a very high sensitivity to smells !

! Nsfw under the cut !

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

It was hard having Hyperosmia as an Oni, as Itto constantly got headaches from the overwhelming smells in Inazuma. However, your smell was the one scent that drove him absolutely wild for an entirely different reason.

Itto was on his back, laying on the plush fabric of your bedsheets. Your scent enveloped him, making his head feel warm and fuzzy. You always smelled so good to Itto. He’d catch himself leaning down when you weren’t looking to get a whiff of your delicious scent. He needed to know why and how you smelled so good to him, so here he is, in your bed. It wasn’t his plan to just let himself in, but you left your door unlocked again, and he thought he’d seize the opportunity.

Itto felt himself throb in his pants as his nostrils flared, filling with the smell of you. He can’t help but get so hard when he’s around you, it was almost embarrassing how close he’s gotten to cumming in his pants when you’d get a little too close to him, wafting your scent into his face. Itto released himself from the confines of his pants, his thick cock slapping against his stomach, the tip a deep red and drooling precum.

He whimpered as the warm air of your bedroom surrounded his cock, the thick mass bobbing as he thought about you, your smell. He was hesitant at first, his hand slowly taking hold of his girth. He was ashamed of himself. He was clearly overstepping the boundaries of your relationship, but he needed this. Itto has been aching for this for so long, so he wasn’t going to back out now.

His hand began to stroke down his shaft, shivering as he reached the base from how good it felt. Itto wished so badly that you were the one jerking him off, your soft and gentle hands stroking his dick as your mind-numbing scent filled his lungs and his brain. He turned his head towards your pillow, taking a deep breath, allowing your intoxicating smell to travel into his lungs. He moaned, loud and breathless. Oh, he was in heaven. This is all he ever wanted. Itto’s wrist jerked him off even faster, the slick noises of his precum being used as lube filling your bedroom. He whined and whimpered, croaking out your name as he felt the familiar heat of an orgasm deep in his stomach.

Itto rolled over onto his stomach, pressing his face into your pillows, practically drooling all over them. He took one into his arms, holding it close to his face and rubbing his nose into the fabric. His hips began to thrust against the rough fabric of your blanket, causing him to let out a choked groan. “Oh, f-fuck..Y/N, shit!” he whimpered into the pillow, his thrusts becoming more desperate the closer he got to his release. Taking the pillow into his mouth, he bit down on it, attempting to muffle his sweet noises just in case you were somehow home early.

Itto drooled all over your pillow, soaking the pillowcase until it turned a completely different colour. He was on cloud nine, his head completely filled with you and your scent. He wondered how you would smell under him as he pounded into your tight cunt. Would it be sweet, or salty? Warm, or perhaps bitter? He wanted to know so bad, he was willing to do whatever it takes for him to get the chance to smell you as you’re taking every inch of his Oni cock, wringing as many delectable orgasms from you as he could.

“Y/N, oh- Y/N..Wanna cum in you, so fu-fucking bad. Gonna cum- shit! Y/N, Y/N..” your name rolled off his tongue like a prayer as his hips began to stutter, his moans coming out as loud whimpers as he coats your sheets with thick ropes of his cum, breathing heavily as his jaw unlatched itself from your pillow. Itto laid there, shivering from how hard he came. He cuddled his face further into your pillow, getting one last lungful of your scent before sitting up to asses the damage.

Itto’s cum was going to leave a stain for sure. Don’t worry, though, because Itto will buy you new sheets, but not without keeping the old ones for himself. He can’t just let you throw away the one thing that smells so much like you! He’d keep it for the sole purpose of smelling it when he wants to get off to the thought- to the smell of you.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

! A/N ! : this wasn’t proofread at all lmao so I’m sorry for any grammatical mistakes in this. I also wrote this high so some of it probably doesn’t make sense but it’s the thought that counts, right?!

#genshin impact #ataraki itto #itto smut #genshin smut #genshin impact itto

161 notes · View notes

aizawaz · 2 years

Text

A Lending Hand - [ Arataki Itto x Reader ]

𝐚/𝐧 ; itto has been taking up 99% of my brain ever since his banner came out, so it was only appropriate that i write something about him.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ; 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦 , 𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 , 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 , 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 , 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘵 , 𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 <3 , 𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘺 , 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘰.

𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 ; 𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘰 , 𝘴𝘶𝘣!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 , 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 , 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵.

! 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭 !

“Can you fuckin’ believe it? Who does she think she is, takin’ my vision like it’s nothin’?” Itto grit his teeth together, his ruby eyes full of fiery anger. The Oni’s knee bounced as he recalled the events that had taken place an hour prior to him bursting through your front door. Him and his gang had gotten into a little scuffle with Kujo Sara, resulting in the confiscation of Itto’s geo vision.

“Itto, calm down. You can always get it back. You’ve done it before, haven’t you?” You tried your very best to console your partner, but you knew what Itto was like whenever he was angry. He behaved like a child, only ever calming down when given something that he wanted.

The Oni clicked his tongue, the metal of his tongue piercing clacking briefly against his teeth. “Calm? I don’t think you’re understandin’ me here, doll,” Itto glared at you, his sharp finger pointing to the blank space where his vision should be. “My vision was taken. There’s nothin’ to be calm about.”

You could tell that the more the two of you talked about it, the angrier he got. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands. With a soft smile you withdrew your hand from the male’s back, earning an angry glance from him. Nimble fingers pulled at the buttons of your top, slowly exposing the intimate parts of your body.

“Instead of sulking about all day, why don’t you let me help you forget about your vision? Even if it’s just for a little while.” Your sultry voice rang through Itto’s mind, his piercing gaze never faltering, even as you sank to your knees in front of him. As you kneeled, you gently pushed open his legs and trailed your hands up his thighs, though made sure to not push your luck just yet.

Itto’s chest convulsed as he laughed, a flash of his long fangs making your stomach shudder. A clawed hand gripped your chin and roughly pulled you closer to the male’s groin. “You see me all worked up about losin’ my vision, yet all you can think about is suckin’ me off? Didn’t know you were this big of a slut, doll.”

“Jus’ want to help, baby.” You whimper, the sharp points of Itto’s nails slightly pressing into the skin of your cheek. “Yeah? You wanna help me? Start by takin’ these off,” Red eyes flickered down to the buckle around his hips. “Since you wanna act like a greedy whore, you can do all the work yourself.” The hand holding your chin disappeared and instead rested on his upper thigh, nails subtlety tapping against the fabric of his pants.

Although his words were meant to be taken to the heart, they instead shot straight towards your now heated core. Itto knew exactly what words to use against you to get you riled up. With a nod and a shaky breath, your hands clambered with the buckle of his belt, and you saw the amused grin on your boyfriend’s face at your eagerness.

“You excited or somethin’, doll? Can’t wait to suck this Oni’s fat cock, huh? You better be takin’ it all, or else I’ll have to make ya take it myself.” His gruff voice made your toes curl, even if what he was saying was straight up mean. Your fingers had barely pulled down the zipper before his cock freed itself from the constricting piece of clothing he was wearing. The sight in front of you almost made you moan involuntarily.

Itto’s cock slapped against his abdomen, beads of precum pooling around the pulsing tip. Long strips of red that matched the ones that ran along his neck snaked down the shaft and up towards his stomach. Due to the Oni blood coursing through his veins, Itto was exceptionally larger than any other man you had been with before, making for a delicious stretch any time he plunged his way into your cunt.

The male noticed your stare, a low chuckle rumbling through his chest at your ogling. “Look at ya, practically drooling from one look at my dick. You want it, don’t ya? Tell me how bad you wanna choke on it. C’mon, I’m all ears, sweetheart.” Itto’s fingers wrapped around the base of his length and with a soft grunt, he tapped the heavy mass against your bottom lip. He was always one to tease you, no matter the situation. It was almost relieving to see some of his anger from before dissipate.

Without missing a beat, a string of pleads and whines flew shamelessly out of your mouth; “Oh, Itto, please. Want your cock down my throat so bad. Wanna make you feel so good. Can I? Please, Itto? I’ll take it all, I swear. Just wanna make my Oni feel better.”

Itto hummed in approval as he pried your jaw open with his cock. “Atta girl. Always know just what to say to get me so fuckin’ hard.” You couldn’t help but moan around the head of his length, earning a low groan from the male above you. Your eyes screwed shut as you slacked your jaw in order to take more of him into your mouth. Despite his size, you weren’t about to go back on your word just yet.

Your face grew hot when a sudden gag ripped through your throat, hot tears soon springing from your eyes. You heard Itto click his tongue, causing you to open your eyes. Even through your blurred vision, you could still see the disappointed frown on the Oni’s face. “And here I thought that you were actually gonna do what you were told. Don’t worry, I’ll just have to give ya a little push.”

A large hand tangled into your hair and gave a forceful tug, the burning on your scalp making you wince. It had taken you a moment to fully register what he was trying to do, but once you realized, you only choked around him once again. “Trust me, love. I’m not gonna suffocate ya, I know what I’m doin’” Itto’s soft and encouraging tone of voice was a great contrast from what he was using before, though it wasn’t unwelcome. It helped you relax back into his touch.

You relaxed your throat and allowed him to pull you further down on his length, breathing heavily as he did. Itto groaned as he felt the back of your throat press against the head of his cock, the heat of your mouth making his stomach twist with pleasure. Soon enough, you felt the familiar coarse hairs of Itto’s happy trail brush against your nose. You could also feel the way that Itto pulsed against your tongue as well as the bitterness of his precum.

“See, was that so hard? Look at ya, stuffed to the brim with my cock. God, so fuckin’ good. Knew ya could do it, doll.” Itto’s praise sent shivers up your spine, the stickiness between your legs increasing significantly. However, you could only sit still for a few seconds before your gag reflex caught up to you, making you sputter and drool around Itto. You tapped against his leg, silently pleading for a gasp of air.

Itto slowly pulled you off of him with a deep moan, dribbles of your spit and his precum falling from his now glistening cock. With your throat free, you coughed and sucked in as much air as you could. “Look at the mess ya made, it’s all over the place. C’mere and help me clean it up.” Your Oni boyfriend tapped his lap expectantly, waiting oh so patiently for you to climb on top of him. Your knees ached and shook as you stood from the floor and onto Itto’s warm lap.

Immediately, Itto’s clawed hand groped at the flesh of your ass, kneading the soft muscle through his fingers. You whined breathlessly as your hands cupped his face, leaning in to kiss him as a reflex. Instead of feeling his lips, you felt the sharp points of his nails scrap against your bottom lip. They felt wet against your mouth, and you stupidly looked down at Itto for guidance.

“I told ya to help me clean up, didn’t I? Or are ya too much of a dumb slut that ya forgot already?” A whimper forced its way out of you and straight to Itto’s cock. What got him even more riled up was the way that you obediently opened your mouth without even needing to ask. With little to no hesitation, Itto shoved his fingers into your mouth. The bitterness that you tasted earlier once again dominated your tastebuds and you realized why. You moaned softly around his fingers at the thought of him shoving the spit that you had selfishly allowed to make a mess of him back where it belonged, in your mouth.

On instinct, you ground your aching cunt against Itto’s abdomen, your eyes fluttering shut at the stimulation. The male’s free hand grabbed your waist with such a force that you felt as though he would bruise your skin. With a muffled yelp and a whine, you grabbed at the straps of Itto’s chest garters, causing his pecs to bulge sightly. “If you’re gonna act like a little brat in heat, ya coulda done it in a less shameless way than that. Gettin’ off on top of me like that, how disgusting.”

“‘m sorry, Itto. Wanna fuck you so bad.” You mumbled, the long digits in your mouth hindering your speech, but Itto understood you perfectly. “Oh yeah? Ya want Itto’s big cock in your perfect little cunny? Don’t worry, I’ll give it to ya.” Itto’s hand began to tear away at your pants, shredded fabric falling to the floor. You nodded desperately, any sense of pride that you had left leaving your mind.

Itto removed his fingers from your mouth, allowing you to freely whine and moan into the room. He continued to tear through your pants until you were left bare and on display for anyone deciding to pay you a visit. You shuddered from the cold air that fanned across your exposed pussy; but the cold was quickly replaced with the warmth of Itto’s hand. A deep groan emitted from his chest at how drenched you were for him.

“Shit, so fuckin’ wet. All this just from suckin’ my dick a little bit? Like it when I’m mean to ya, do ya? I betcha that I don’t even need to give ya any prep time you’re so wet.”

Your hips twitched against his palm, your clit brushing against the heel, causing you to cry out and crumple against his chest. Looking back at yourself, you could see the angry red tip of Itto’s cock pressing between the mounds of your ass and his hands lifting you by the hips.

He lowered you down onto his cock, and even though it was only the tip, you felt the familiar burning of his girth splitting you open. This made you tear up and push your face into the crook of his neck. “‘s so big, Itto. Already feel so full. So good.” You mewl. Each dip and bulge of Itto’s cock left you breathless and aching for more.

On the other hand, Itto was moments away from filling your tiny cunny to the brim with his thick Oni cum. You squeezed him so deliciously tight that he thought he was almost too big for you to handle, but you always managed to take him all without fail. “Fuck, baby. This slutty pussy is always so tight. The prettiest little cocksleeve for me.”

Itto quickly thrusted up into you, fully bottoming out inside your cunt. You choked out a mix of a cry and a moan at the straining feeling in your gut. Itto’s hand snaked its way up your back and to your throat, long fingers wrapping around your jugular as he pushed you backwards. Your limp body complied with him, relying entirely on his hand to keep you upright. Itto hissed at the sight in front of him.

Breasts all perky and just waiting for his mouth to latch on to. Chest rising and falling in a steady yet heavy pattern. Head rolled to the side with tears rolling down red cheeks. Stomach bulging outwards in order to accommodate his thick girth. A transparent ring of your slick gathering at the base of his cock. Breathtaking.

“Take a look at how well you’re takin’ me, doll. Such a good girl for your Oni.” He used his hand to pull your head down, forcing you to look at the state of your body. Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked upon yourself. The both of you felt how you gushed even more around the male’s cock, which only fuelled Itto’s desire to fill you up with his seed.

Itto began to quickly piston his hips in and out of you, the bulge in your belly disappearing for a moment before appearing once again. “God, can’t hold back anymore, darlin’. Gonna fill you up with so much of my cum, gonna make ya pregnant with little Oni’s of our own. Wanna be a pretty little breeder for me, huh?”

“Oh! Yes, fuck. Wanna have your kids, Itto. Please, god please fill me up. Needa feel your cum inside me.” You were beginning to slur your words, your head too hazy to form fully formed sentences. Itto let out a growl, his hand holding a bruising grasp on your waist. You could feel your orgasm building up deep in your gut, moans becoming for frequent and high pitched. Itto was close as well, his hips faltering every few seconds, his groans sounding more like whines.

In the last few moments of his energy burst, Itto leaned forward and latched his lips onto the hardened buds on your chest. The cold metal of his tongue piercing causing you to arch your back farther into his mouth. Hands wrapped themselves around the pointy horns sitting atop the Oni’s head, making him whimper against your chest. Your fingers stroked and caressed his horns, making Itto’s hips stutter for a moment. His whines only grew louder as you reached the base of the pretty red horns. “G-God, gonna make me cum so hard, darlin’.”

With a final thrust of his large hips, you felt hot spurts of cum paint your inner walls, causing you to spray your arousal around Itto’s cock and his lower abdomen with a loud whine. The two of you sat breathless in each other’s embrace, collecting your thoughts before speaking. Itto remained sheathed inside of you, although you could feel his cum steadily leak out of your exhausted pussy.

“Are you feeling better now, my love?” Your voice knocked him out of his trance, his red and sweaty face looking up to meet your gaze. With a toothy grin, the male pressed his cheek into your chest.

“Much better. Thanks for helpin’ me out, darlin’. But don’t ya dare think that I’m about to let my vision go. That stupid General ain’t gonna know what hit her.” Itto heartily laughed. “But seriously, thanks.”

“Of course, Itto. Anytime you need it, I’m always here to lend a hand.”

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that was incredibly long, i apologize lol. hope you enjoyed. :) p.s. this wasn’t proofread, so if there’s any grammar or spelling mistakes, i am sorry. :(

#genshin impact itto #itto x reader #arataki itto #genshin impact #genshin smut #itto smut

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aizawaz · 2 years

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been thinking about writing an itto x reader fic. if that’s something that you’d like to read, please let me know and i’ll get right on it for you. :)

#arataki itto #itto x reader #genshin impact itto #genshin impact

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aizawaz · 3 years

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𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫 - 𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝗮/𝗻 ; hello, this is my first fic being posted on tumblr so i apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors. also foul legacy tartaglia >>>.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ; 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘤, 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘪-𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦. 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺.

! 𝗻𝘀𝗳𝘄 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝘁 !

You didn’t know how you ended up in the current situation you were in, and in all honestly you couldn’t remember how it happened. All you knew was that Tartaglia had just finished coaxing out your third orgasm of the night with just his tongue alone.

His long, clawed fingers held you in place, your face pressed into the shiny floor of the Golden House. Your ass was stuck high in the air, allowing the harbinger to skillfully lap at the juices that were spilling from your abused cunt. “So pretty. Can’t wait to see you squirm on my cock.” The low, rumbling voice of Tartaglia filled the empty room and you swore that you could see the walls vibrate as he spoke.

You could do nothing but whimper as the large male had his way with your limp body. The only thing holding you together was Tartaglia’s tongue as it slid in and out of your pussy, loud squelching noises accompanying his actions. “T-Tar, please..” you whined, your voice hoarse from how much you were crying out because of him.

Tartaglia unlatched himself from your cunt, causing you to shiver as cold air quickly replaced the warmth of his mouth. “Hm? What is it, lovely?” He loomed over your small body and you felt so intimidated by his size, but you couldn’t help but want him inside of you. You weren’t satisfied with just his tongue, you needed so much more from him.

”Need your cock. God, please fuck my pussy. Want you to fill me up to full. Want you, Tar.” your eyes watered uncontrollably as you begged for him, your eyes searching his masked face for any sort of reaction. You felt so small underneath his huge figure that just thinking of how much he could fill you with his cock gave you butterflies.

The large man above you laughed, or what you assumed was a laugh, and pulled you towards him, your back pressed against his hard chest. “Oh, princess. Why didn’t you say so sooner? All you had to do was ask.” he cooed as his hand freed his aching cock from his pants, the heavy mass slapping against your abdomen.

You whimpered as you saw the size comparison between you two, sure that he was not going to fit all the way. As you looked up at him, it was almost as if he could read your mind. “It’s okay, little one, it’ll fit. I’ll make sure it does.” You shivered harshly at his certainty, giving him a shaky nod.

Tartaglia manipulated your body with ease, his hands lifting you by your thighs. He hovered your drooling cunt over his cock, teasingly prodding at your entrance which caused you to whine in frustration. He just couldn’t help it, he found it so cute that you got angry when we would tease you. “Tar, stop te-teasing, please. Can’t take it anymore. Just need your big cock inside me. Want your cum so bad.” you sobbed, hands gripping his own clawed fingers.

“Such a desperate girl, aren’t you? So needy for my cock. Don’t worry, my love, your wish is my command.” With that, Tartaglia slowly inserted himself. Your eyes widened at the stretch you felt with every curve and bulge of his cock, long moans voicing out each one. The harbinger stopped once he was halfway inside of you, making sure you were comfortable with his size.

”You’re doing so well, lovely. Just a little more. Can you hold on just a little longer for me?” You didn’t answer at first, the obvious bulge of your stomach distracting you. You felt so incredibly full already, your mind was going blank just from this. You couldn’t imagine how good he’d feel seated all the way inside of your cunt. Before you could think too much, Tartaglia’s rumbling voice interrupted you. “My love? Are you okay? We don’t have to-“ “Feels so go-good, Tar. ‘S so big, gimme it all. Ruin me on yo- oh- your cock, please.“

Your sparring partner was taken aback by your dirty words, his breath catching in his throat. Who was he to deny such a pretty girl something that she wants? He groaned loudly and you could feel his dick pulse against your walls deliciously. Without warning, he slammed you down the rest of the way, making you cry out in ecstasy. Your hands gripped at anything you could, fingers clasping around his pointer finger.

You squirmed on his lap, his cock hitting so much deeper than it was before, a string of curses flowing out of you once he pressed against your cervix. “Fuck- So tight. Your pussy is the most perfect place for my cock, isn’t it?” Tartaglia’s hips snapped against your rear, making you jolt upwards with every thrust he sent into you. Loud moans and whimpers filled the Golden House, and you weren’t surprised if passerby‘s heard what was going on behind the closed doors.

Tartaglia watched your stomach grow every time his cock re-entered you, the feeling of your small body trying to accompany his size drawing him closer and closer to his release. He easily turned you around to face him, wanting to see your beautiful face as he quite literally rearranged your guts.

You stared at him with glassy eyes, your cheeks tear stained and a deep red; lips swollen and parted as you sung out his name, you yourself so close to gushing all over him. “S-So close, Tar. Wanna cum, please. Lemme cum on your cock- o-oh fuck-“ you pleaded, your pussy spasming around him. The male leaned down and bit harshly on your shoulder, leaving a deep mark. He wanted to mark what was his, to let everyone in Liyue know that you belonged to the harbinger.

“Go on, lovely. Cum for me. I’m gonna fill you up so good, paint your insides with me.” he groaned, his words muffled by your skin. You finally felt the coil inside you snap, and you felt yourself gush all of him, twitching violently at the sheer power of your orgasm. You screeched out Tartaglia’s name, your voice cracking ever so slightly.

Tartaglia lifted his head and whined from the feeling of your pussy clenching hard around his cock, pulling you in for a harsh kiss. His long tongue swept the inside of your mouth, your moans being swallowed by him. His hips began to stutter, but his quick pace never slowed as he came deep inside of you. A low growl emerged from the male as he pumped you full of his cum, soon spilling out of your cunt and onto his lap.

At the same time, the harbinger reverted back to his regular size, your body now comfortably wrapped in his warm embrace. The two of you sat for a moment, trying to catch your breath. It was silent, calm, until you felt Tartaglia rut back into your leaking pussy. With a tired moan, you looked into his deep blue eyes, now being able to see his face. He was wearing a smile, sweat accumulating on his forehead.

”Just because I’m back to my regular size, doesn’t mean that I’m finished with you just yet.”

#genshin impact #genshin tartagalia #smut #childe x reader #childe x reader smut

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