jaid

warnings: piv sex, cervix bruising, grief, manga spoilers, aki has a massive cock, the reader loses their mind and fucks the gun fiend. a lot of horny angst. mdni

The Gun Fiend doesn't touch you like how Aki did.

You'd started sleeping with Aki after that journey into Hell. Somewhere between rehabilitating Power and helping Aki adjust to working in the kitchen with only one arm, the two of you fell into bed with one another. Himeno once implied to you that Aki was a mediocre lay—detached and quick, almost like sex was a chore for him—but this turned out to be untrue. Aki was extraordinarily tender with you. Sometimes it seemed as though he was afraid you'd break if he got too rough with you, if he hurt you in any way at all. He kissed you calmly and intentionally, curled his fingers inside you carefully and patiently, and fucked you slow and deep. He was careful even when you asked him to be rough, squirming beneath him and begging to give you the entirety of his cock.

“You could go deeper,” you whined. “I don't mind. I wanna feel all of you inside me.”

Aki panted into your neck, and you could feel his cock twitch inside you—the part of it that he'd pushed into you, anyway. Aki never let himself bottom out. The two of you tried once and he only got maybe a little over halfway before you felt him press against your cervix, forcing a strangled cry out of you. You hadn't tried again since. But you could tell he wanted to give you the full thing then, with the way he looked at you—eyes hazy, pupils blown.

“I don't want to hurt you,” he ground out.

“You won't,” you reassured him. “I'll be fine, I promise, I'll be—ohhh—”

His cock pressed into your sweet spot—angled carefully, precise. Aki let out a breath as he ground his hips against yours, watching you writhe beneath him, feeling you squeeze around his length. “I think this is more than enough for you,” he remarked mildly, and when you tried to protest he started pumping himself into you, and suddenly you were panting into his mouth, too incoherent to argue.

The Gun Fiend isn't nearly so mindful.

If there is anything of Aki left at all in his corpse, it doesn't have much influence over the devil possessing it. It doesn't bother kissing you, for one. You don't know if it even knows what kissing is. You don't know if it totally understood what you were doing when you leaned in and pressed your lips against its mouth, tears and self-loathing spilling out of your eyes.

a long summer day on the sand slowly starts to end. ace traces the breeze along your waist as the sun meets the sea.

“i don’t want to leave yet,” you say, glancing behind you; fighting visions of a sleepy drive home. “do we have to?”

“mmm,” ace considers as his eyes bounce between you and the horizon. “i want to enjoy the view a bit longer.”

*2.0 being the prettier version...

🎀 For my birthday month of June, my gift to you is for you to enjoy a 25% discount* on my services! *excluding the Peekbis!

Click the titles below to take you directly to the VGen commission page! If you have any questions, please don't hesitate!!

Full Body -> Normal Price: $130.00 CAD | June Price: $97.50 CAD -> +1 Character: 80% of price ($104.00 / $78.00)

Half Body -> Normal Price: $65.00 CAD | June Price: $48.75 -> +1 Character: 100% of price (+$65.00 / +$48.75) -> +2 Characters: 150% of price (+97.50 / +$73.15)

Peekbis! -> $15.00 CAD

If you can't commission me, no problem! But just by reblogging this, you're being a super big help, and I appreciate every single one of you for it. Truly; it's hard to create for people when no one sees or knows you're creating!

It's nothing he did. There's nothing he could do. It's just—you look at him one day, look up from the snowdrift of paper bills on your kitchen table, from the monotony of carrying the numbers to add it all up because your phone died again. It's charging on the counter that you keep meaning to get chairs for, chained just beyond your fingertips by a too-short cord, the screen still blinking with the little battery icon, so you suppose it doesn't matter anyway. You don't have a calculator without it so you scratch a number into the margins of the bill, pressing hard enough that it cuts through to the next paper, a deep little pinprick, a tiny fang through the skin.

You're tired and you're sifting through the numbers and you can hear the clink of Phainon's water bottle against the counter. You look up and he's Phainon—he's beautiful and he's sweet and he has been the perfect lover and he is, you think in some quiet part of you—empty.

Except maybe it's you that's empty—empty of the soft space inside of you that used to fill when you looked at him, like the pulsing body of a star growing far too quickly to stay steady. Maybe it's you. Maybe it was always going to be you.

You loved Phainon, once. Loved, you realize. Loved. Though you think you still might, underneath it all. But thinking is not knowing, and besides—you're not sure what the skeletal remains of your love even are. If it's romance that sits in the catch of your throat, a bone shard not easily moved. If it's something deeper, more inexplicable, the intoxicating flare of being a sun for a lonely little planet. (Because you know you are. You used to think Phainon was the sun, and that you orbited around his glow, but you blinked that light out of your eyes years ago. It is Phainon who adapted to your light, who made an environment inside of himself that was built around the way you shone to him.)

You watch him for a moment. He knows; you know he knows. It's in the crinkle of the paper thin skin at the corner of his eye. It's in the way his back straightens, just a bit, sheep's wool pulling tight around the spindle to thicken into a skein.

You look back down at the bills. You mark off the chicken-scratch number in the margin; you round it up to the nearest decimal. The pen is steady in your hand as you say, "i think we should break up."

Phainon goes stiff. He starts to turn to you, a flower following the sun as it tracks steadily across the sky, and in those seconds before he faces you, you can see it.

You think of permanent marker against the whiteboard, how it lingers no matter how many times you scrub against it. Phainon wrote you into the blank slate of himself. You wonder if that's why it's shifted. If you could always love something you'd carved yourself with an accidental hand.

Phainon will try, in these next few moments. He will be good at it. He understands people, Phainon, the way water knows a body submerged in it.

It will not be enough.

"What?" he says.

(One day, the slate of him will be inked with his own handwriting. It will be enough.

But you do not know this yet, and so you will say again—)

If you wanted to embrace the moon tonight, I'd find a way to bring it to your doorstep.

*2.0 being the prettier version...

🎀 For my birthday month of June, my gift to you is for you to enjoy a 25% discount* on my services! *excluding the Peekbis!

Click the titles below to take you directly to the VGen commission page! If you have any questions, please don't hesitate!!

Full Body -> Normal Price: $130.00 CAD | June Price: $97.50 CAD -> +1 Character: 80% of price ($104.00 / $78.00)

Half Body -> Normal Price: $65.00 CAD | June Price: $48.75 -> +1 Character: 100% of price (+$65.00 / +$48.75) -> +2 Characters: 150% of price (+97.50 / +$73.15)

Peekbis! -> $15.00 CAD

If you can't commission me, no problem! But just by reblogging this, you're being a super big help, and I appreciate every single one of you for it. Truly; it's hard to create for people when no one sees or knows you're creating!