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est. 2021 | photo | (icon) | villager at @maplewood-valley | Last Updated: 7 Jun 2026
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900w drabble inspired by this thirst from my goat @saudadiste
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.
It seems to understand desire, though. It understands that you want to feel close to it. It understands that you need something inside you, something to fill your emptiness. It understands your urgency, your desperation. Where Aki would have once chided you to be more patient so he could take his time with you properly in bed, the Gun Fiend has pushed you onto the floor, supine, ripping the seams of your pantyhose as it seeks access to your sex.
You shouldn't be so wet. You shouldn’t want this so badly. You shouldn't be parting your thighs so willingly for the monster that killed Aki, but you miss him and your body misses him and your cunt’s soaked through your panties by the time Aki’s hands have torn them off. And maybe the Gun Fiend doesn't touch you like how Aki did—it feels more animal than human when it mounts you, more possessive than loving when its arms cage you—but it’s all you have and you'll take it even if it hurts.
You stare down the barrel of a gun as you spread your legs for a monster.
It doesn't give you much warning. You feel the fat head of its cock press against your entrance, silky and hot against your cunt, and then it's pushing inside you, stretching you out. Your mouth falls open, a cry tearing from your throat. You can't help it. Aki is—was—always so gentle with you, you aren't prepared for being handled so roughly. Unused to the feeling of being filled up past your limits, your cunt struggling to swallow the full length of him. Unused to being stuffed so full cock that you can feel it not just in your cervix, but in your throat. The Gun Fiend pauses there, feeling you tremble around its length, maybe watching salt track down your face. Can it tell the difference between tears of pain and tears of pleasure? In the eyes of a devil, are grief and ecstasy indistinguishable?
Your breathing evens out. Your body relaxes as it's broken in. You shouldn't be so wet, you shouldn't want this so badly—but your pussy is starting to squeeze around Aki’s cock, your cunt slick and dripping for the monster violating it. But the Fiend is staying itself, for whatever reason—doing nothing but watching you, a gun aimed at your racing pulse.
“Why aren't you moving?” you whisper.
It takes you a moment to understand what it's saying. The Gun Fiend rarely talks, so Aki's voice is rusted with disuse, each syllable halting, heartrending:
“I don't want to hurt you.”
You hear a pained noise—a strangled cry. Aki's hand is cupping your face. He's wiping your eyes. Let’s slow down, he’s saying. His kisses are so patient, so comforting, so intentional. Let me make you feel better.
The Gun Fiend is thumbing away your tears. You wonder if it's going to kiss you. You wonder if its mouth will feel savage or if it will feel familiar. You wonder how it will break you.
You take a deep breath, and you wrap your legs around its waist.
“Don't worry,” you say, resting your hand over the Gun Fiend's, kissing its fingers. “That’s fine. I want it to hurt.”
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yakuza kita killing a guy just because having to listen to his grovelling made kita late for dinner. the guy is pleading with him for leniency, for mercy, and apologizing for whatever it is that got him there in the first place. kita looks at him with the blankest expression and goes (with absolute sincerity) 'i could kill you twice and that payment still wouldn't be worth the debt you owe for inconveniencing my wife.'
“In my dreams I am kissing your mouth and you’re whispering ‘where have you been?’ I say, ‘I’ve been lost but I’m here now. You’re the only person who has ever been able to find me.’”
it's so wild to me that you absolutely cannot force a hyperfixation to happen. like you'll watch the most perfectly tailor-made-for-you content that everyone says you'll love and feel absolutely nothing, and then the thing you watch on a whim to fill time will reach through the screen and put its damn fingers in your brain and start rearranging the neurons right in front of you and every single time you're like THIS??? THIS??????? and this happens like every 6-12 months forever
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"why can't they just be friends?" not in the homophobic sense, but in the "in your need to center romance in everything you are missing the whole point of the media in question" sense
i agree so much about making your blorbos pathetic but i do fear that many take this to mean 'make them more traditionally feminine/submissive' which genuinely hurts my soul. make your blorbos pathetic in interesting character-oriented ways. understand their neuroses and turn the dials up to eleven. juxtapose the parts of life they handle extremely well with the parts of their lives that make them eat shit. make them angry. make them cold. make them pave their own way to hell while building walls preventing them from seeing any other way. please i'm begging you no more pathetic as an euphemism for bottoming im gonna mclose it.
i'm going to move away talking about self-shipping on this blog and instead do so on @haruix. i've been feeling discontent with the shift from being a writer to being seen as a self-shipper and i'm discontent with the fact that there is a focus on this blog on my self-ships (which is entirely of my doing) and so i've created a space to focus on self-ships separate from my writing and general shitposting and fandom posting.
it is not private and you are more than welcome to follow (though it will be subject to being locked down every now and then).
it remains an 18+ space as i will be sharing nsft posts and thoughts and while i am sharing with all of my ships, i do request that non-sharers do not interact with it. i will not tolerate drama that arises because of playing with pixels while having fun and exploring my relationship with myself. ✌️
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Every time an author reassures readers that the smut is skippable I sigh a disappointed sigh. This is not a reassurance. Why would anybody who likes smut want to read smut that was only included as an afterthought and has no impact on the narrative? Insulting. Just don't write it at all if you're not going to make it matter.
#on the one hand I understand that some people don’t want to read smut
Like 85% of tumblr users hate and loathe embarrassment based comedy with every fiber of their beings, but never in my life have I ever seen an author reassure their audience that the embarrassing scenes are skippable.
Lots of people dislike tragedy but never in my life have I ever seen an author reassure the audience that the death and grieving scenes are skippable.
Stop trying to pass off self-censorship as “accommodation.” Stop trying to pass off pandering as “inclusivity.”
Your audience can smell your fear, and it smells rancid.
