積ん読

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.