#Gun barrel care tips

[redgearguru]

Can You Repair Gun Barrels At Home

As a passionate firearm enthusiast, I often wonder: Can I fix gun barrels at home? With more states supporting Constitutional Carry, keeping firearms in good shape is key. This article will look into DIY survival techniques for gun repair. It’s important to be responsible and safe while maintaining our guns. We’ll cover how to spot common problems like rust and pitting. I aim to give gun owners…

[sttoru]

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dom!sylus x female reader. smut, pwp. gun play. degrading. cowgirl position. power trip. hunter - prey-ish? reader gets called ‘sweetie, kitten, sweet girl, slut.’ not proof read !

“careful, sweetie,” sylus’ husky voice rings in your ear. your hand trembles as you hold onto the large hand that’s pointing a gun right at your chest. you’re sweating—not knowing if it’s from fear or excitement.

the scene was a familiar one. you’ve been in this position before - on his lap - with a gun involved. yet this time you’re both so intimately connected; your clothes scattered around the velvet chair, your hips trembling as you ride him. the same man you swore you hated.

“it’s quite funny, no?” sylus inquires, unable to hold back a grunt when you stare at him with such a drunken look in your eyes. you’re drunk on the adrenaline, the barrel of the loaded gun pressed against your flesh. a hint of a smirk tugs at his lips, “how the tables have turned.”

your hips don’t stop moving. you pull them up and push them back down, the back and forth rhythm not to be missed as well. he fills you up too well—his pink tip prodding at your sweet spot with precision. it doesn’t help your case at all. especially when you’re whimpering and moaning about how good it feels.

it’s you who’s supposed to hold that gun up to his chest. that’s how it went last time, but alas. this is your second failed attempt to show your dominance over him, onychinus’ leader.

“it’s also quite pathetic to see you give in so easily to me, kitten,” sylus continues, teasing and belittling you. he presses the barrel right above your heart, his finger right on top of the trigger. your breath hitches and yet you can’t help yourself—your body seeks the pleasure by itself. he scoffs, “so desperate. is it that good? does it feel that good to have me all the way inside you?”

you shiver at his words. you can’t respond when you’re busy moaning the name of the silver haired man. he’s so big, you’re absolutely cock drunk on him. you don’t want to admit it. you refuse to, though the answer to his question is still as clear as day.

“sh-shut up,” you try to retort through a choked up moan. the lewd noises of your wetness swallowing him up to the base repeatedly, with each thrust, echoes through the room. it’s not like sylus can deny the fact that it turns him on to see you like this neither; he’s rock hard.

sylus shakes his head with a low chuckle. ��you seem to have forgotten that you don’t have the upper hand right now,” he sighs, the metal of the gun gliding up your skin to your chin, tilting your head back. your eyes widen and your hand squeezes his larger one that held the gun.

he bites back a groan when your sloppy cunt tightens up around him instinctively, “do you need me to remind me of your place, sweetie?”

“or do you simply like putting yourself in harm’s way?” sylus adds, his free hand guiding your hips in a strangely gentle manner, just so his fat cock could hit all the right spots. “either is fine by me. i love to tame disobedient prey like you.”

he leans his head back and his red eyes roam over your body. your skin is glimmering with sweat, the dim light in the room giving it a soft glow. his gaze stops at your bouncing tits for a second before returning to your face.

“i—i just want..” you stammer through whimpers. you can barely think, your thoughts are an absolute mess. you don’t know if you should fear the fact that your life is being played with while you’re in such a compromising position, or if you should just enjoy the addicting sensations the situation brings along.

sylus encourages you to keep on talking by tapping the barrel of his gun beneath your chin again, his right eye faintly glowing a brighter red. you gulp as you bounce on his dick. you know your inner desires and needs have already been exposed to sylus—he probably knows what you need, yet he’ll still make you say it to him directly.

“i just.. need you,” you finally manage to form a proper sentence. you’re unable to take your words back. you don’t care at the moment; you’re focused on chasing that sweet high.

sylus’s long fingers tighten their grip around your hip. he closes his eyes for a second to recompose himself before opening them again. “who knew you’d be such a needy slut,” he mutters underneath his breath, trying to keep calm when you admitted to needing him in such a whiny tone.

“need me, hm?” sylus grins as he finally got you to be vocal about your true needs. “need me to fill you up that bad? to pound you brainless? to have you submit to me while i show this slutty cunt of yours what it’s like to have me fucking it?”

the words fall off his tongue with such ease. the sudden dirty talk and change in tone makes your stomach do flips. his free hand reaches up to tug your hair back harshly while he whispers that in your ear.

“yes, fuck—yes, need it so bad,” you nod mindlessly. you don’t care about anything as you’re riding him. you’re willingly handing your destiny over to sylus—which drives him insane. the thrill of having that power over you makes his finger tremble on the trigger. the power trip is messing with his brain.

his eyes darken for a few seconds while he regains his composure. he can’t wait to flip you over and have his way with you.

sylus grins before kissing your ear and neck, bucking his hips up to hear you mewl from pleasure. he pulls away from your skin to look at you with his signature smirk, teasing you once more, “then, who am i to deny my sweet girl?”

[konigsblog]

adding onto this post

photo credit: @ave661

synopsis: sucking your lieutenant off, a gun pressed against the back of your head encouraging you to do your best.

tw/cw: gun play, teasing, blowjob, bondage, fear play. MDNI 18+

It almost feels as if all eyes are on you, like you're performing in front of thousands of people, desperate to perform as well as you possibly can. Although there aren't hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people watching you. Instead, it's your lieutenant, and he has the muzzle of his pistol on the crown of your skull.

You're sitting on your knees against the dirty concrete floor, your wrists tied behind your back, restraining you and holding you down. You're bound to the floor to act as a fleshlight and a sex doll for Simon, the perverted and debauched man that gazes down at you, the intense eye contact almost threatening. You sit between Simon's muscular thighs, gazing up at him with desperation visible in your glossy yes. You crave his validation, his compliments, and his praise, but right now you're left petrified, perhaps even mortified. The gun is fully loaded, which leaves you shaken up, attempting to act as obedient as possible. Your job is to obey his every command and do whatever he pleases, to please your superiors.

Your eyes are wide and full of horror when he hits the barrel of the gun against your head teasingly. You'd be lying if you said the thrill and anticipation didn't leave your panties soaked. Your thighs are glistening, coated in the sticky, pearly shine of your sweet arousal. Simon doesn't react; he doesn't let out a sound, not even a grumble, forcing you to do even better and push yourself further, attempting to make the man come. Through frustration and concern, you quicken your pace, bobbing your head up and down his lengthy, leaning cock with your eyes glistening up at him, the ache between your thighs intensifying yet being ignored and neglected.

Simon cups your jaw gently, almost too softly and tenderly considering his aggressiveness and frustration towards you prior, feeling almost like a façade. His other gloved hand holds the pistol, a low and guttural chuckle emitting from him, getting off to the power, control, and authority he has over his little recruit. He gazes down at you, watching your eyes flicker away, the intimidation leaving you uncomfortable and horrified. You can taste his bitter, salty cum on your tongue, and it lingers. the taste—something you're unfamiliar with. Such a docile, careful thing below Simon, naïve for falling into this trap. 

You try your hardest not to let him down, not to gag or heave or whine. You maintain eye contact with him through pitiful and muffled weeps, zealous and eager to follow along with whatever he says. You will agree; it doesn't matter what he says, you'll do whatever it takes to please the pervert.

You're riddled with anxiety and fear, causing your stomach to churn, tears rolling down your cheeks, and your bottom lip quivering despite being wrapped around his veiny, girthy shaft. Simon cocks his head to the side, and you can sense and feel his cruel and corrupted grin from behind the balaclava that only intensifies his terrifying persona, getting off to a sickening form of pleasure that causes his tip to weep orbs of his white arousal, creamy beads rolling down his shaft. He can practically smell your fear, with your pussy drooling and leaving your panties ruined from your sweet, delicious fluids.

Such an obedient, scared little thing beneath him, shaking pathetically whenever he rubs the gun against your cheek teasingly, encouraging you to do better, to act your best for him, and to not fall behind or lack effort.

Just sit pretty and obey, love.

[dietcokegirly12]

“Under the Desk”

featuring chuuya nakahara ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡)

﹌﹌﹌ ˚♡˚‧˚🖇️✩˚ °✩ ﹌﹌﹌ ˚♡˚‧˚🖇️✩˚ °✩ ﹌﹌﹌

art credit: ichiroachiroi on pinterest

﹌﹌﹌ ˚♡˚‧˚🖇️✩˚ °✩ ﹌﹌﹌ ˚♡˚‧˚🖇️✩˚ °✩ ﹌﹌﹌

tags: voyeurism, oral (m!receiving), port mafia executive!chuuya!, slight boot humping, teasing, risk of getting caught, degrading

KINKTOBER OCT. 10 Ѽ

· · ─ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ · · ─ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ · · ─ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ · · ─

You knew this was wrong, but you couldn’t help it.

The Port Mafia Executive, Chuuya Nakahara and you, a member of the Armed Detective Agency.

If the Mafia were to find out, not only would you be taken to their famous torture chamber and executed, but Chuuya would too for traitorous connection to the enemy. And if Fukuzawa were to find out.. you didn’t even want to imagine what the repercussions would be.

It had all started when the Detective Agency was assigned a mission against the Mafia, in which they were believed to have interfered with important documents. In the heat of battle, a certain red-head had pinned you down, the cool barrel of his gun pressed hard against your temple.

"Cease your fire, or she dies!" he had threatened. Your body pressed flush against his, you could feel everything, and he suddenly shifted, something hard prodding against your stomach. Your eyes widened, but before you could say anything he was wrestled off you by Tanizaki.

The mission had concluded over an hour ago, with both sides ceasing, the Detective Agency finding a new lead on the case, with evidence and reason to believe the Mafia had been framed.

And here you were, sloppily making out with the Port Mafia Executive, Chuuya Nakahara as you lay spread out on his desk, his hands roaming your body desperately, reaching for any of you he could find, his hands coming up to squeeze your breasts.

"Knew I wanted you from the moment I saw you, princess." He moans. "Too bad a pretty thing like you 's in the Detective Agency."

You groan into his mouth, and quickly you shift to pull down your pants, his hands reaching for your shirt.

Suddenly, a sharp knock raps against the door, interrupting, as you frantically scramble off the table in horror.

Chuuya reacts quicker than you, roughly shoving you under his desk. “Stay quiet!” he hisses, and quickly straightens up the papers that had scattered. “Come in.”

Akutagawa walks in, dipping his head respectfully. “I have the report for our mission against the Detective Agency, sir.”

“Good. Did you include…” Chuuya’s voice drones on above you, and the conversation quickly turns boring as you hunch over uncomfortably, cramped in the tight space.

As subtly as you can, you shift, opening Chuuya’s legs to make more room, sliding in between.

He stiffens and quickly flashes you a cautious look, before returning his attention back to the man seated in front of him.

This gives you an idea, and mischievously, you scoot closer, sliding your hands up his thighs. Waiting to see if Chuuya would stop you, you inch your fingers higher and higher, pausing to splay them across his bulge teasingly.

When he doesn’t do anything but inhale sharply, instinctively widening his legs, you take it as an invitation, reaching for his belt.

Slowly, you unbuckle it, careful not to make any noise as you finally push down his pants enough for his thick, leaking cock to spring out. It was fairly long, but what was most impressive was its girth, thick enough that you couldn’t wrap your entire hand around it. The tip was a dark angry red, pearly precum beading out tantalizingly.

Gently, you grasp his weighty length in your hand, the muscles in his thighs jumping, and cock twitching erratically.

“One thing I couldn’t figure out though was when…” Akutagawa is still going on, oblivious to what’s happening under the table, the soft rustle of papers sounding above you as he pushes it over for Chuuya to examine.

You quickly seize this opportunity, taking only his weeping tip into your mouth, saltiness flooding your senses as you suck gently, your tongue flicking out to run over his slit. He instinctively jolts, his boot coming to prod at you in warning.

You smile up at him mischievously as he focuses back on Akutagawa, shifting to sit on top of his boot to relieve some of the aroused throbbing in your pussy.

“Fuck.. you know what, just leave it blank and I can take care of it..” You gently lave your tongue underneath him, swirling lazy patterns as you move ever so slightly, grinding yourself against his heavy shoe.

“Was that all, Akutagawa?” His voice turns slightly forced as he tries to steady his breathing.

“Yes, I just had one more question…”

Chuuya’s hands tighten around the desk, his dick throbbing weakly in your mouth. You can feel your slick pooling messily on his pristine black boots, a soft barely detectable squelching noise coming from your humping.

Without warning, he thrusts his boot up, the tip of it pressing at your entrance, making you inhale sharply, your eyes widening in surprise.

You see his lips curve slightly up in satisfaction as he waits for Akutagawa to finish.

"...and at that point, it got chaotic and I couldn't tell which members were where so what would I put?" he concludes.

In retaliation, you suddenly take his cock all the way into your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat, causing you to gurgle slightly.

Chuuya immediately surges forward, his hands coming to grip onto his desk with a slam. "What a stupid.. ah.. fuckin' question. You were the ambassador for the mission, it's your job to pay attention." This last part comes out slightly breathy, as he pants softly, jerking forward.

You start bobbing your head eagerly, building up a steady pace, as you shift into a more comfortable position, hoping Akutagawa doesn't detect the slight movement.

Akutagawa's shoulders slump in defeat. "I know. But you were there, you saw it. Things got out of hand and..."

Chuuya's eyes screw shut tightly, and when he finally speaks, his voice comes out strained. "Akutagawa, I think you should leave now."

The dark-haired boy immediately protests. "Really, I'm sorry for messing up! But I have to take this back to Mori so..."

"Leave!" Chuuya's voice raises a pitch, becoming slightly more frantic as you feel him begin to move his hips faintly, thrusting into your mouth.

Akutagawa dips his head in acknowledgment, as he begins to gather his papers. "Apologies." He mutters gruffly.

You listen to the soft rustling, and laugh to yourself as you notice how long he's taking, determined to make this as hard as you can for Chuuya.

You force him even deeper, tears streaking down your face at the intrusion, as you try your best not to gag, hollowing your cheeks around him, and bringing one hand up to fondle his heavy balls.

At this point, his breath is coming out in soft gasps, using practically all his willpower to stay quiet.

You hear Akutagawa's steps beginning to fade, and finally, the faint click of the door as it closes behind him.

Chuuya looks down at you, and upon seeing your fucked-out expression, drool dribbling from your lips as they stretch obscenely around him, instantly fills your mouth with spurts of creamy white, his hips pushing shallowly into you as he twitches, finishing with a loud groan.

You eagerly swallow every last drop, wiping your mouth in satisfaction as you gaze up at him, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

You don't get to enjoy it for long, though as he forcefully pulls you up from underneath his desk, and shoves you down among his fluttering paperwork.

"Was that fucking funny to you?" He growls, his flushed face hovering above yours, locks of red hair coming down around you. "Do you realize the trouble we could've gotten into if he had realized? I didn't take you for such a naughty little slut, sweetheart."

"Chuuya.." you begin uncertainly, but he cuts you off, rubbing his still hard cock against you with a harsh chuckle.

"Oh, you're gonna pay for that little stunt you just pulled, doll. Now turn around f'me."

tagslist: (ask to be tagged!) @kissesmellow21 @rosebluuod @sakui1

[princessbrunette]

you’d always been a nerd, there was no doubt about that — it’s only now you were older, you were known as a nerd who was filling out her bikini top, and jiggling in her bikini bottoms. now, unlike yourself — you sit on a little boat out on the water with the infamous pogues.

it was jj who invited you here. it was always jj — he’d been enthralled to see the sexy little thing you’d grown into adulthood as. he’d spotted you whilst working at the library, frowning over a file book of library card entries with cute pouty lips and reading glasses that he wanted to cover in cum. hed always thought you were cute at school, but now he just had to have you. he’d used his charms on you, and now you were nervously tucked into his side, ‘making friends’ with his friends as he’d described it. “gotta get ya out there, there’s a whoooole life to be lived outside these books, you know that?”

he was burrowing through his backpack, leaning over on the boat beside you to find the weed he’d packed, clearly set on corrupting you for fun.

“its the best of the best— like, perfect for a beginner—” he rambles, dumping things out his backpack struggling to find the small baggie of prerolls he’d prepared.

“jesus, jj do not corrupt the poor girl.” john b bites back the entertained smile, lifting his head from where he lounged in the sun to look at you. “you sure you’re okay with this sweetheart? can totally… you know, stick to what you know.” he shrugs, sympathetically and you shake your head, wide eyes finding the blondes.

“its okay, told jj i’ve always wanted to try. he said he’d hook me up.” you smile politely, still a little shy around the group.

“yeah but he’s being weird about it.” kiara glares at her friend with her nose turned up, nudging him with her foot nearly knocking his balance off. “dont be a creep.”

“look i’m not being a creep, alright! ‘said she wanted to try, and i���m being a good citizen and simply helping this sweet young lady out dabbling in just a lil bit of herb okay so i don’t wanna—” he dives headfirst into another one of his rants, but is quieted by your gasp when a couple of items fall out his backpack, including a gun.

“nice work.” pope shakes his head and your eyes widen, looking around wondering why no one else is concerned.

“why do you have a gun, jj?” you scandalise and he picks it up casually, flipping it in his hands making you shuffle away, jaw agape.

“gotta protect my people, what’s wrong wi’that? look i’m a pro at usin’ this thing— set up a little target practice in john b’s backyard and lemme tell you, i have quite the aim.” he waves it around making you stiffen up, touching his bicep to stop him from being so reckless.

“god, you must be careful with that thing. they’re dangerous jj! i read that these pistols just go off at random all the time, you could seriously hurt someone and i don’t wanna be the person who gets shot by accident! do you even—” you freak, and he turns his body to you shuffling closer and silencing you.

“shh, shh, shh, shh — hey. it’s all good. i would never accidentally shoot a pretty girl. trust me, i’m so careful.” he smirks, bringing the tip of the barrel to your lips making you freeze with wide eyes. to keep you there as he speaks, an arm slings over your shoulder, his clammy hand gently grasping the back of your neck. you know you should be scared, the boy seems reckless and unhinged — and worst of all, his friends seemed used to it which tells you he does this shit all the time — but something about it made your cunt throb, dampening your bikini bottoms and subtly pressing your thighs together as you felt your skin heat up.

maybe it was all the books you read, but you’d always loved a bad boy.

“seriously bro? you’re scaring her.” kiara complains, leaning across and yanking the pistol out his hand and shoving it back into his backpack.

fast forward a few hours, and you’re back at the chateau, the only ones inside in john b’s bedroom. you’re looser, high and relaxed from the joint jj had talked you through smoking — and now you were laying your head on his bicep, his free hand down your panties rubbing your copious juices into your swollen clit.

“cant believe you’ve never been touched like this, mama. been missing out on heaven, right?” he grins, leaning down to kiss at your cheek when your eyes flutter closed, so out of it and blissful.

“mm… wanted this since…” you trail off, lips parting and brows furrowing when he curls his finger inside you.

“nah, go on. since when… tell me how long this pretty pussy’s been horny for papa j.” he dirty talks so well you clench hard around him, working up the courage. it didn’t take much, the intoxication and lust making you brave.

“since you put the gun to my lips.” you admit quietly and his jaw drops gleefully, speeding up his fingers.

“seriously? damn i knew you were gonna be a freak. it’s always the quiet ones, always dude.” he celebrates to himself before staring down at you adoringly. “man, i’m gonna have so much fun with you, pretty girl.”

[oreo-creampie]

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮/ 𝐠𝐮𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dealer!toji, dealer!sukuna, dealer!suguru, dealer!satoru, gun play, oral (giving and receiving) light embarrassment, teasing, reader more into than she is scared of it, hints of a size kink, hint of reader being shy, light fingering, satoru plays with your clit, praise, praising degradation, jerking off, squirting, gun play - toji rubs it on your cunt - lightly fucks you with the tip before having you lick it clean

It was a choice to come alone. Good or bad? You’re teetering between the two. Glancing at the gun resting on the table next two thin white lines of ketamine, a rolled up dollar bill and some previous weight out bud.

He grabs the gun off the coffee table you keep glancing at. Checking the chamber, then clicking it back into place, spinning it. Slipping the cool tip of the barrel beneath your chin, tilting your head up.

The scared corner of his lip twists up into a smirk. “Does my gun scare ya princess?” There a snicker from one of his friends.

You press your tights together, shifting beneath Toji’s unwavering, cold gaze. His dark forest green eyes captivating yet hard to maintain eye content with. He’s looming over you, standing up whilst your sitting on the edge of his sofa. Hands clasp together in your lap.

Toji is blocking out the rest of the room with his large tattooed body. Doing everything he can to keep your attention solely on him instead of his friends in the room. You are so small beneath him, and it’s exciting.

Taking a breathe, impatience trickling into his eyes covering up the amusement. “Don’t have all night, other customers should be coming by soon. Answer honestly and for tonight I’ll play nice. Well as nice as a dirty beautiful slut deserves.” He drops the gun, leaning forward whilst you press yourself back into the sofa he grabs a hold of.

Partly caging you in, he taps the gun on your knees and your part your legs without a thought. Watching him drag the gun up your leg is surreal. Your body flushing with the heat of embarrassment and want, the coolness of the metal is welcoming.

“Yes and no? And…” closing your eyes, rushing out, “what if I don’t want you to be nice?” Your heart thuds in your chest, more heat rushing into your face. He slaps the gun on your thigh and you jolt.

Opening your eyes whining, spreading your legs wider, showing him your wet panties. He groans, “Oh?” a predatory, hungry smirk stretches across his lips. “Our princess wants me to bully her?” He nudges the gun lightly against your soaking wet cunt.

Twisting your hips down, grinding your clit, not caring there are other men in the room watching you. With your legs spread open and your one of your dealer’s gun pressed to your needy cunt. You want them to watch, to touch themselves and want a turn.

Pleading with Toji, “Please? My safeword is cherry.” He fondles himself through his sweats. His large fist wrapping around this thick cock, tightening the fabric over his head, highlighting it. He kneels in front of you, glancing past Toji’s broad shoulders.

A beautiful man with soft pastel pink hair and a black shadow root catches your attention first. He has a large cohesive, continuous tattoo on his face, neck, arms and chest. The ink along his v line hinting at more on his cock or thighs. You want to trace the line with your tongue to find which it would be.

Toji rips your panties off, lifting it to his nose, staring you in the eyes as he takes a deep breath. “Sweet ass cunt, I could tell from the moment I saw ya, you would have a beautiful slutty little cunt.” He licks the damp part, groaning then dropping the useless fabric.

He lines the barrel of the gun up with lips, parting them, smearing your slick. Gliding the gun up to your clit, swirling it around. The cool metal heating up from the warmth of your cunt. It shouldn’t feel so good.

The pretty one with white hair, and striking blue eyes and a playful smirk on his glossy pale pink lips stands up. Taking the seat next to you, grabbing your thigh, pulling your leg onto his lap. “I'm Satoru. It’s cute seeing you try to collect your nerves. Makes me want to fuck the shyness outta you princess.”

Furrowing your brows, huffing, “Im not that shy! Just awkward, I dunno any of you. And…and! All of you are so big, I don't know any of you. I-I-ah! Ngg!” You can’t get the words out when Toji tries to nudge the gun inside you.

Erupting between your legs is a fiery sweet, pleasurable pain of getting roughly stretched erupting between your legs startling but satisfying. Tensing up and jerking your hips away.

Relaxing whilst Satoru rubs your clit, testing the pressure to see what makes you squirm. "Aw we're too big and scary?" He quickens the pace, whilst Toji glides the tip of his gun out.

Dipping his head between your legs, slipping his tongue inside you. Moaning into your cunt, I'm going to make sure you can't walk out of here." Shivering, his words, his voice, watching his lips move. How could you be this turned on by someone?

The others are going to be upset they aren't getting their shit till the morning. But they shouldn't have ditched you. Forgetting about making it back to the apartment till tomorrow morning.

Dumbly stating, "Till I can't walk!" The sweet pleasure building an intense pressure between your legs. Toji’s tongue moves faster. The pleasure of having your soaking wet cunt played with by two meaning hampering your previous nervousness beneath thick layers of horniness.

You want to cum till your loose count, drench their cock in balls with your slick whilst they fucked you stupid.

You're even craving the intimate aftercare you neglect with others to avoid any attachment. The thought of not having a worry or thought afterward when you're being held close in the afterglow is too tempting.

One of the guys, chastises Satoru, “Toru don't pick on her too much, Toj has been doing enough of that. You are going to chase her off before we all get a taste of her sweet cunt.” He is carefully gathering his long, silky, shiny dark hair into a neat bun. Some of his long bangs fall into his handsome face.

There is a gentle, calm smile on his soft lips that don’t meet his tired, disapproving eyes. And in an instant your too eager to for validation and praise more so from him. He is staring at you, whilst not actually looking at you. But more so what he could get from you.

You want to give him everything your body can give and then some. This is only going to be sex anyway, so why not make the most of it. It’s a night that you dream about when touching yourself and maybe tell some trusted friends about a wild night you had at your dealers.

Your cunt spasms on Toji’s tongue, your thighs trembling. Your cumming too quickly, the intensity of it washing over you before you can realizing how close you are.

The pink hair one stripping himself of his gym shorts. Walking up next to Toji, grabbing your hair, yanking you forward toward his cock. Prompting Toji to pull away and glare up him. Your slick dripping down his chin.

He stands up grumbling, “Sukana you fuckin' asshole lemme me move.” Whilst pushing his sweatpants below his balls. Beautiful, thick heavy balls full of cum you wanting fucked into your cunt by his friends.

Cocking the gun, pointing it at your head whilst saying, “You heard her, she wants to be bullied why not give the slut what she wants.” Sukuna picks up where Toji left off,

“See how much she can take before she's a cock drunken whore with not a single thought behind her pretty eyes.” Your eyes widen, your mouth watering. His cock is beautiful with the tattoos on the side and the three barbells beneath his tan-pink head. They would feel so good inside you, rubbing your sweet spot.

He’s longer than Toji, but thinner, with more veins. Whilst the skin on Toji’s cock is smoother. Toji is pale with a soft pink hue at the base of his cock. He is dripping so much thick pre-cum. You can't pick who had the better-looking cock. Or balls.

The last unnamed guy points out, “If we start off too harsh too quickly she might bolt. But if we ease her into it before she knows it she’s taking everything we give without a thought like a good whore.” He slips his shirt off, making quick work of his jeans and underwear. Taking up the seat next to you.

"I'm Suguru, tonight we’ll see if you can keep up with us and be the new group slut. Hold your arms up." You do as told, Toji pulls the gun away for Satoru and Suguru to slip your shirt off together. Whilst Satoru croons,

"Good girl. Did you come dressed up hoping to catch Toji’s attention? With a mini skirt that barely covers your sexy ass." The moment Suguru tosses your shirt to the side Toji holds his gun in front of your lips.

Licking Toji’s gun clean. Toji praises you, “Good girl didn’t have to say shit. I knew you’d be the perfect whore for us. The way you looked at me I could tell you were a freaky little slut.” Grabbing a handful of your hair guiding you to Sukuna's and his cock.

Taking Sukuna's first, swirling your tongue around him. The strange yet pleasurable feeling of his barbells on your tongue. Bobbing your head, taking him deep into your throat, groaning happily.

Slipping Sukuna's cock out with a pop, switching to Toji's. Whilst Satoru grabs your hand and spits in your palm. Wrapping your hand around his cock, guiding your fist. Satoru moans are so beautiful, and breathy.

“Your hand is so damn soft.” Pumping your hand at a quicker pace, Satoru lets your go, letting you take the lead. Rutting his hips up, “That’s it, jerk my pretty cock off. You can drink the cum after as a reward.” You reach over and fondle Suguru's heavy balls. His fat cock resting on top of your hand.

Gliding Toji’s cock out of your mouth, “Please, want every hole filled with cum. Let me be your favorite cum slut, want all of you to use my holes like a flesh light.” Kissing Toji’s balls, his fat cock on your face smearing your spit. Switching to Sukuna balls, sucking one into your mouth gently. Letting him go and taking Toji’s cock into your mouth.

Toji presses your head down not letting you pull away. He sets a quick past whilst Sukuna strokes his cock. The slick sounds of his hand sliding along his cock and his groans pushing you closer to cumming.

Sukuna follows Satoru's line of teasing with, "Did you plan to bend over in front of him and show him your pretty panties in hopes he would use your cunt as a fleshlight?" Toji's lets up, gliding his cock out, looking up at him.

"He took his sweet ass time catching on." Kissing Sukuna's cock as he pauses stoking himself. Holding his heavy cock up for your to kiss his head. Licking the pre-cum off him, then taking Toji's cock into your mouth. Sucking whilst pulling away, your cheeks hallowing in. Whilst Toji groans.

You spit on your other hand and smear it on Suguru's cock. Whilst pointing out, "I've been here twice already, and both times you were serving manwhore along with your drugs." Toji's smirk widens showing a sharp tooth on the right side of his mouth.

He fires back, "Say the one about to serve cunt to four guys." Suguru swipes two fingers between your legs. You're already too close to Satoru playing with your clit. You’re squirting from the anticipation of Suguru finger fucking you whilst he traces your dripping cunt.

Satoru suggests, "Let's take her to the playroom. It will be easier to stuff all three of her holes." Your pussy juices soaking into Toji’s sofa.

strawberry brat

[tarot-archives]

hands. hands. and more hands. —Simon Riley

fluff | comforting simon and scolding him

Simon always had calluses, even before enlisting. His hands were etched on the butcher knife from frequent use. To the point that even the owner had to buy a new one for himself. The handle fits perfectly, with deep engravings of his print, and thick calluses pressing on its body to reshape the figure.

Now, Simon had returned home from training. His hands, were more worn than before, with scars and burns painting on the canvas of his skin. He didn’t have anyone to take care of him after all. No one to scold him for the mud caking under his nails. No one to swipe his hands away if he hadn’t washed them before eating.

Bottles of hand cream on your nightstand take twice as long to finish since he was shipped out too.

But he’s here now. The bed dips, it’s no longer a place fit for two. He’s grown bulky, more lean than fat, his back straight after months of corrective training. You wonder about the history of his scars so you asked.

“This one was from doing push-ups,” he proudly said. 

“Just push-ups?” you were disturbed that push-ups can leave serious scars. “why is it on your knuckles then?”

“Had to do them against the gravel. Under the heat of the bloody sun,” Simon thumbs over the discoloration on his skin. “It was hot enough to cook an egg and burn through skin. Even had those hard pebbles that push up the bone.”

You grimaced, “the bone?”

Simon looks down at you, then snickers, “almost, but not yet. No.” He lies more easily now. Gentlemen know not to burden a woman’s heart. Especially his best friend.

You sighed in relief. Your fingers now brushing over his palms. The question, tipping itself over the edge of your tongue, as you hesitate to ask. But Simon knows you enough not to wait for a verbal query.

“These ones were from the rope,” he turns his hands to face you. Thick skin on his fingers, especially on his thumb.  All of the digits are dry and in need of a deep clean. He looks down at your furrowed eyes and disappointed glare.

You opened your mouth, then closed it. You didn’t want to make a fuss about it since Simon was the strongest person you ever met, but how could you make him understand your thoughts. That you are mad about his lack of self-care. That his hands found home at the barrel of the gun instead of a knife. Both items share the same violence. Both professions are bloody and messy. Both his choices were out of necessity for his family.

Simon doesn’t speak as he lets you feel his rough skin. Your digits travel in between his fingers, over his knuckles, finding a new reason to be more worried than the last. But as you were about to lift your hands away, he entwines his hands in yours. 

He made sure you won’t run as he says: “There’s no reason to worry.”

You shake your head in disapproval, “How could I not?” Your voice cracked. Warmth spread to your cheeks at your choking defeat. “What would you do if your best friend always put themselves in danger?”

“Save them from dumb decisions,” Simon answers. 

“But I’m not at the battlefield,” you gripped his hand harshly as an outlet of your frustration. “what can I do when you’re halfway around the world. And it would be months before I can hear again from you.” 

Despite your strength, it was nothing to him. He had experienced the butt of a rifle lodged into his hand as punishment. Your hold wasn’t a means for pain, but a way for you to deliver the words you left unsaid. So he returns the gesture, thumbing your skin in small circles, speaking in the language you spoke— the love language of touch. 

So you lean into him, understanding the silence and his affection. Realizing that his hands weren’t always a place of violence. It was your safe space, before the blood and the gore. 

He held your hands when you were anxious during preschool. He held your hands to keep you by his side amongst the busy street. He held your freezing hands when you left your mittens at home. And in more sacred moments when his lips touched a cut to heal it faster….

It was never about fixing him up. It was always about taking care of your best friend. All homes, when not properly maintained, tend to ruin quickly compared to others. And taking care of Simon was your way of making do or returning his kindness. 

“I need you to take care of yourself more,” you ordered.

“yes, ma’am.”

“you can’t keep coming back here expecting a manicure.”

“Of course,” he brushed away your gentle reminders. His arms pull you into a hug, purposely tipping you over to fall towards him. Simon was never the kind to fuss over the weight of your body over his. His heart welcomed you, accepting you as a part of him and all the burden you carry. 

[whateveriwant]

Happy Sunday! Whatever you do, definitely don't imagine Simon stuck in a time loop, forced to relive the worst day of his life over and over again 😀

The worst day of Simon's life? you might wonder. What would that be? Good question!

How about the day that Simon, at the tender age of four, came face-to-face with the boogeyman himself? His mother had warned him of the ghoulish entity, the one who lurked in shadows, inflicting pain on those who would seek to misbehave. What she didn't tell him, and what Simon would discover for himself that night as he awoke to the sounds of screaming, was that the boogeyman was no mere specter. She didn't tell him how he punished indiscriminately, uncaring if you were a woman or child. She didn't tell him how he wielded his fist like a hammer, his breath stinking of booze and cigarettes. And she didn't tell him (because how could a mother begin to explain to her young son?) that the boogeyman would wear the face of his own father.

Or how about the day that Simon realized he made the biggest mistake of his life? When he first joined the army, he had lofty ideas of honor and glory; action and duty; responsibility and yes, if it came to it, even sacrifice. Call him naive, but what else could you expect of a boy who's been fed nothing but a trough of propaganda his whole life? Simon surely didn't realize, not as he signed his soul over for a pair of dog tags. He didn't realize, not as he queued up with other lost boys for his chance to play soldier. He didn't realize even as he was shipped out with less than two months of basic training under his belt. No, Simon didn't realize until it was already too late, until it was staring at him across the blood-soaked trench with glossy, unblinking eyes. It was only then, looking into what remained of the face of a friend, that Simon realized there is decidedly very little that is ‘dolce et decorum’ about dying in war.

Or there's the day Simon discovered hell exists right here on Earth, and it's ruled over by a devil called Roba. Simon had thought that living a life already full of pain and horror would have thickened his skin like the rings of a tree, making an impenetrable armor even a mortar couldn't dent. But all it took was the careful orchestration of one wicked man to prove that even the toughest of trees can be felled. Day in and day out, he endured a steady stream of beatings, tortures, and assaults. Day in and day out, he was forced to the brink of his sanity, tipping over it once or twice. Day in and day out, the once unbreakable soldier entered a new circle of hell, and as he descended, finding each pit worse than the last, he wondered if he would ever make it out alive.

Or there's the any number of days (and there are a dreadful many) that Simon lost the only things in his life that ever truly mattered to him. The day he came home, the taste of betrayal acrid on his tongue, to find four mangled corpses had replaced the people he called family. The day he failed, the target vanishing like smoke from a gun barrel, his hands wet with the blood of the sergeant he had come to consider a brother. The day he never saw coming, the day that smashed what was left of his heart into pieces, the day he lost the best thing to ever happen to his miserable excuse of a life; the day he lost you.

It was years later, long after he'd hung up his masks and tags, that they came for you in the dead of night. Payback, they'd said, for something he'd done when he was still in the service. Though you had no affiliation with that period of his life, they knew that by taking you – by hurting you – it was the perfect eye for an eye. All Simon could do as they bound and beat you was watch from across the room, his own chains rattling desperately. He watched as your fingers bent at odd angles, your clothes adhered to your skin with blood, the bones in your face shattered and swelled until you were unrecognizable. You were strong – stronger than Simon ever wanted you to have to be – but that didn't stop his heart from breaking with every abuse your body received. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, he tried to get through to you, even as the sickening crack of your femur threatened to drown him out.

It was hours (it felt more like decades) that you were both dragged through this misery. Simon watched the whole time, hot tears obscuring his vision, his voice keeping you awake between the syringes of adrenaline pumped into you. But eventually there came a point in which you slumped, a sort of finality to the way your limbs sagged, and Simon couldn't help how his own heart stopped pumping. The room was loud in his ears, louder than it had ever been thus far, and yet, not a single sound was made. He shook his chains to rouse you. Get up, he ordered. Get up, my love. Get up! he begged, screamed until his vocal chords shred. His pleas were met by only silence, a slowing trickle of blood leaking from your mouth, and when the ones that did this to you declared that revenge was now claimed, Simon knew the last thread that wove any sort of meaning into his life had finally been cut.

Any one of these days could be a contender for the worst day of Simon's life, an eternity of torment looped within a 24 hour cycle. And no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries to change things, it's never enough. He is never enough.

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about Noir and the kinks he likes to indulge in

Pairing: Spider-Man Noir x Male Reader

content tags: 18+, MINORS DNI, gun play, Sub!Noir, Dom!Male Reader, humiliation kink, watersports, dry humping, oral fixation, degradation

A/N: I’m sorry for any mistakes and I hope you enjoy!

“Are you scared?”

What was essentially supposed to be a quiet patrol had turned into something else with Noir perched on your lap, hands cuffed behind his back and with a gun pointed in his face.

Is he scared?

Noir eyes the weapon in your hand. It’s the one you keep on you at all times. It’s one that’s usually in your glove department but now is in the palm of your hand. It’s the one he doesn’t know if it’s loaded or not with your calloused finger teasing and taunting the trigger while pressing it directly to his forehead.

Blood’s roaring in his ears, shaky breaths escaping his lips and body shuddering where you’re pressing the gun against him.

However it’s not fear that he feels with the way his cock is twitching in his pants, eyes half lidded and pupils blown wide while his cuffed hands are trying to reach out.

Noir shakes his head and presses himself closer to the weapon, firmly enough to leave an indent.

You just hum in content, before you drop the gun from his forehead to instead trace along his jaw, before lightly putting pressure on his throat and watching the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he nervously swallows.

“Please please don’t tease cant cant do-” he gasps out, words dying down as you push the gun harsher against his windpipe.

“Not another word, detective Noir,” you say with a smile on your face as you catch his gaze only to see the wide eyed look on his face , cheeks flushed and mouth agape, but once again not a speck of fear can be found his face.

You hum in content before you continue to trace the barrel along his collar bones, making sure to harshly graze the marks you left from the night before.

He whimpers and whines, body jerking away from the rough touch only to be yanked back in place by the handcuffs.

“Easy there doll, you’ll hurt yourself” You say, trying to suppress the smile on your face as you continue to trace the gun down his chest dragging it close to where his heart lays.

You hear him take shaky breathes as you drag the cold barrel along his nipples until they’re hard as pebbles and the skin around it is flushed an irritated red.

You continue tracing down his abdomen, finally reaching down to the outline of his boner, where his cock is weeping, so much so he’s managed to create a wet patch in the uniform he’s wearing.

You lightly push and press the tip of the weapon against his dick watching the way he squirms as a gasp escapes his lips

“Oh- oh god -please” Noir whines out, hips bucking pathetically up against the gun.

“You don’t listen do you?” You say, and take the gun away while glaring up at him. He quickly realizes that he spoke when he was supposed to be quiet and is about to apologize before you cut him off “open up”

He quickly complies, lips parting to leave room for the gun before you gently slide it into his mouth. “Suck”

Noir eagerly wraps his lips around it, tongue languidly dragging along the length of the barrel before completely sinking down on it.

The gun feels cold in his searing hot mouth, the barel a welcome weight on his tongue, and the smell of gun powder ever so prominent as he sucks on it.

He cant help but think that he enjoys it, a lot, eyes fluttering shut, needy noises escaping his lips as he eagerly sucks on the gun.

“Oh fuck just like that,” you groan out “suck it just like you’d suck my cock”. Noir suckles harder, brown pinching together as drool trickles down the grip.

“Fuck, you wouldn’t even care if you got your head blown off, you just want something in your mouth like the little slut you are huh?”

His eyes snap open at those words, body going taut as his gaze falls to the gun in your hand, down to the spot where you’re index finger continuously taunts and teases the trigger.

He looks absolutely obscene as he meets your gaze; eyes half lidded, lip stretch around the barrel with a look of anticipation painted upon his face.

You tilt your head, brow raising in surprise as you finally recognize the look in his eyes.

You can barely suppress the smile on your face as you fully press down onto the trigger.

His eyes flutter shut, brows pinching together as he prepares himself for what’s to come,

Clink.

The sound of the empty gun going off can be heard loud and clear before it’s overpowered by the sobs escaping Noir’s lips and as your eyes trail down to the lower half of his body you notice a small stream prominently appearing on his jeans, the patch growing larger with each second that’s passing.

You laugh hysterically, eyes wide in disbelief, as you take in the sight of him.

“Oh fuck did you just piss yourself?”you say still laughing in disbelief while looking down at the wet patch on his jeans.

However Noir doesn’t seem to notice or doesn’t seem to care as he resumes sucking on the barell while rolling his hips.

“Jesus Christ you don’t even care do you” you sneer, hands curling at the back of his neck and tilting his head to meet your gaze.

“Look at you grinding in your own piss just to get off, fucking disgusting”

As if finally realizing what he’s doing, he stops moving, and meets your gaze with a guilty look painted upon his face but it doesn’t take much for him to start moving again as he hears you say

“Come on why stop now, make yourself cum,”

[rottin6]

mdni. 18+ | bartylily. cw: gun kink.

in lily’s defence, she did just start dating him so how was she supposed to know the rules? barging into her boyfriend’s room wasn’t the best idea, but the best lessons, as she knows, are learned from experience. barty’s sitting there when she walks in, lazily sprawled out on his bed, his chest bare with drops of sweat. he stares at her expectantly.

her focus is stuck on the gun, the silver barrel of it resting against the crease of his hip like it was anything but. “your parents never teach you how to knock?” he’s pissed off at her, but lily doesn’t care. she opens her mouth to speak, then closes—then opens again to mumble an incoherent apology, before moving to back out of the room. it’s then that barty lifts his left hand, the one holding the weapon and lily stops in her tracks, fear clouding her mind.

his eyes narrow at her, his back up against the headboard. he motions the gun as if he were waving her to move forward, “come here.” lily moves, hesitantly of course. she knows he wouldn’t hurt her—or she thinks so at least, and yet, she becomes weary of him. she crawls onto the bed, slowly, sitting in between his legs, and she can’t help the gasp that releases when he moves the gun against her cheek, gently forcing her to look at him.

“i asked you a question, doll.” he murmurs, tapping the barrel against her cheek, and instinctively, a heat begins to form in the pit of her stomach.

lily’s voice is pathetically small—meek when she speaks. “yes—no, i’m sorry, barty. was just excited to see you.” his jaw’s clenched as he hums, dragging the tip of the gun along her jaw sideways, stopping when he reaches her chin. lily’s surprised at herself, at her breathing for staying scarily even as she holds eye contact with him.

he continues to study her, looking for any sign of fear. he keeps his brows crossed, “you missed me?” he says, his voice low, lips barely moving. there’s a fondness in his eyes that calms lily, and suddenly the gun held to the bottom of her chin is the least of her worries. she nods carefully, an animalistic urge to rub her thighs against one another.

“mm-hm.”

there’s a beat of silence and then the corners of his lips twitch, “good.” barty’s eyes fall to her lips, all bitten and chapped from her habits. then, he inhales, “you’re pretty.” and all lily can choke out is a thank you. she doesn’t know why she’s so tense—on edge, but the compliment sends shivers right down to her toes. then, before she even knows what’s happening, barty’s pressing the gun against her lips, tapping it lightly and his eyes wide, full of expectation.

it comes out as a harsh breath when he speaks: “open.” and lily can’t help but gape at him, coming to the realisation that he’s gone and finally lost his mind. but the look on his face is a completely serious one, and he tries to force the barrel past her teeth. his right hand pulls on her hip, rubbing slow, comforting circles on the skin as he mumbles more, “c’mon baby, give me more.”

the gun’s cold against her teeth, the metal reminding her of the piercing on his tongue, and when it slips past her lips and onto her tongue, lily lets out a moan, one she had no idea was building up in the back of her throat.

she takes the gun in her mouth and barty’s sick when he’s watching her, his mouth curling upwards. “good. good girl. show the gun how much you missed me, and maybe i’ll let you show my cock, instead.” usually lily would jump at the opportunity but she really couldn’t care less. she doesn’t care if she doesn’t get to suck him off, because the feeling of the gun sliding in and out, slowly, from his guidance, is enough to satisfy her. barty coos and praises her as her eyes roll further back into her head the more he speeds up, his hard cock throbbing against her thigh.

barty’s impatient though, and though lily could sit there forever, he wastes no time in pulling out, manhandling her face down into his bedsheets and positioning his cock into her dripping hole. “fuck,” he says, “you got this wet from a little bit of sucking?” he pants, heavy from the way her sticky walls cling onto his length. he’s violent with it, unforgiving when he rams into her, and lily makes the mistake of trying to push him back away from her—to slow him down.

lily feels the coolness of the gun barrel press against the back of her head, and a soft click follows after.

“you fuckin’ try that again and see where it gets you.”

for @sommerregenjuniluft always x

[kanencrow]

Can you write gwen stacy x fem reader when her spider-sense goes off and realizes that you're in danger ( also, can it angst in the beginning, then turn into comfort I would like that very much)

Just Be Careful - Across The Spiderverse | One Shot

A/N: Got you! I'm not extremely well-versed (no pun intended) in writing angst, so I hope I did your request some justice!

SUMMARY: After getting into an argument with Gwen, you leave to try and clear your head. However, what once was a walk that was meant as your way of calming down, quickly turned into a life-or-death situation with a group of thugs, who were up to no good. 

WARNINGS: All characters are 18+. Swearing, Angst/Comfort, Weapons, Descriptive Physical Violence.

WORD COUNT: 3400+

Gwen hated getting into fights with you. 

They didn’t at all compare to the ones she would have with the typical criminal that roamed Chelsea, New York. Those were physical altercations, and it always ended with her winning and feeling accomplished, because she got rid of a genuinely bad person. The ones she had with you were sometimes heated, and although there was that urgency to try and win the argument, it never felt like she succeeded. Even if her opinions on the matter the two of you disagreed on made more sense than yours, she still disliked the fact that you and her couldn’t have had a calm conversation about your different stances. 

Maybe it was stress this time that so easily tipped you over the edge and caused you to become so angry with her. Intermixing school and work was the worst concoction to have. The blonde tried her hardest to understand what might have been going on with you. Maybe she should have just pushed away her desire to get her point across, and simply asked you what the deeper reason for your frustration was. But she couldn’t. Not now, at least. You had left the apartment. You slammed the door and it felt like it rattled the entire building.

It didn’t take a genius to gather that you were pissed off. 

And, from what she had gathered, it was all because of the fact that Gwen wasn’t understanding your concern for her. You knew she was Spider-Woman. You found out early on, and it was due to the fact that she had crawled through the window of your shared apartment one night to try and be sneaky. But you were pulling an all-nighter, and so as you sat on the couch, watching TV, you just about had a heart attack when you saw this random woman in a tight black, white, and pink suit come into your apartment. You screamed, she screamed. You threw your box of popcorn at her, she – surprisingly – webbed it to the wall before it could even hit her, and then it was a domino effect from there. 

When she eventually showed you that she was the one and only Spider-Woman, you freaked out. And you had every right to, she thought. Hearing the news, reading the newspaper and seeing all of the things Gwen got herself into, it instilled a lot of worry in your chest, because you were well aware that this superhero of New York was getting herself into a lot of crazy situations. And they were ones that could have easily gotten her killed. And so that was where your concern came from. 

The weighing dread of responsibilities didn’t help your mood, however. And so as you thought about what had happened at that apartment, you felt a little guilty for the way you blew up on her. Your last words consisted of, ‘I don’t want to see your face for the rest of the fucking day,’ and of course, she came back with her own two sense, that only caused you to scoff in turn and slam the door shut before she could truly finish her retort. Something along the lines of, ‘you won’t be thinking that when you need me to save your ass.’ 

At first, you thought that the statement was belligerent and arrogant. 

But now, you didn’t really think so. 

Staring down the barrel of a gun wasn’t on your to-do list for the day. The man who held it shook the weapon impatiently while he yelled at you, but with the way your heart pounded, it caused your hearing to only pick up the rhythmic drum of the organ. You could feel yourself losing air as anxiety washed over you like a heavy tsunami, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get yourself to fall out of your frozen state. 

Clearly, it was causing the thug anger, and the two goons that had joined him also showed their own feelings of frustration. When one of them lunged forward and gripped the collar of your shirt to shove you into the wall, the other smacked the metal of their bat onto the brick surface you had been slammed up against, right beside your head. You flinched, rightfully so, but surprisingly, it seemed to be the thing that snapped you back into reality. Voices, gruff and cold, came back to your senses, and you could eventually hear the bustling of the dark New York streets from the alley you were stuck in, as well as the shaky breaths that slipped from your lips. 

“Either you give us everything you fuckin’ got, or I’ll beat your skull in!” You flinched when the man who gripped the collar of your shirt harshly smacked your cheek. It caused your head to turn and for a pained gasp to escape you, as a heated stinging sensation spread across the right side of your face. The hand that fell onto you was rough and callous, which only made the feeling all the more excruciating, though you weren’t able to dwell on it when a heavy fist suddenly slammed itself into your gut. 

All the air inside of your lungs vanished as a bloom of agony spread throughout your abdomen. Your eyes were quick to snap shut, and you unwillingly showed your pain when you clutched your stomach with your arms and fell to the ground. Your knees slammed against the cold cement of the alley way, and before you could even regather yourself, a boot planted itself against your shoulder and shoved you to the floor. You weren’t able to stop your teetering body, due to the power of the push, and so the moment the rest of your form hit the ground, your head was quick to follow. 

The feeling of your skull cracking against the concrete wasn’t pleasant. Even the men who gathered around you hesitated to continue their assault. Though, when you let out a weak groan and rolled yourself to lay on your back, that seemed to be the thing that pushed the muggers back onto the task of robbing you blind. Before you could even react, you felt grimy hands grab onto your body, searching through the pockets of your pants, while a pair of footsteps moved past you to search through the backpack you had dumbly brought with you when you left the apartment earlier. 

As much as you didn’t want them to steal everything that you had, you lacked the strength to do anything about it. You felt them rummage for your wallet, your keys, the single dollar bills you had, if you ever needed cash for something. Your pockets soon became voidless pits. You could hear their voices, even as the world around you spun like some extremely fast merry-go-round. You didn’t know what they were saying. However, you could notice the way their tones switched from calm to panicked and terrified in the matter of minutes. 

“In this day and age, you’re still robbing people in alleyways?!” 

You knew who had voiced the quip without even needing to see their face. The zipping of webs and grunts filled your ears as you stared up at the sky, and in your daze, you noted the way the walls of the alleyway slightly closed in, which almost covered the sight of the moon that illuminated the world. Scuffling of boots and a surprisingly high-pitched yelp echoed to your left, which caused you to lull your head to the side, only to see one of the men who had attacked you slam against the wall, as a glob of spider string spread across his chest to keep him there. 

It wasn’t difficult to find out where the other culprits of your less than ideal state had gone. Hanging from the balcony of a fire exit, the two men were wrapped within a cocoon of webbing. They struggled in their confinements, and you would have laughed at the sight, if your head hadn’t felt like someone drilled into it with a power tool. 

Even though you left on a terrible note earlier in the day, you were elated when you saw the familiar figure of Spider-Woman drop down from wherever she had been perched. She landed against the cement like a graceful ballerina, but she was swift in popping up to her full height and rushing over to you the moment she saw that you were still laying on the floor. “Shit shit shit–!” You could hear her voice, albeit muffled, and the way she was clearly concerned for your wellbeing. The expletives that leaked out of her mouth from behind her mask made the corner of your lip quirk slightly, amused. Though, the expression quickly vanished once you felt how sore your jaw had become, just from the simple action.

However, when Gwen knelt down to your side and cradled your face with her covered hands, you felt the pain that surrounded your head subtly dissipate. The way they touched you with a profound amount of comfort, compared to what you had dealt with only moments prior. Her palm was gentle in the way that it moved to cradle the back of your skull. Still, you couldn’t prevent the groan that bubbled within your throat from slipping out. “I’m sorry,” you impulsively uttered, even though speaking seemed to be too much, with the way your abdomen uncomfortably throbbed.  

“Please don’t start apologizing like you’re dying,” Gwen told you worriedly, as you felt her hands move away from your head. As much as you wanted to, you weren’t able to say anything in response, before you felt her arms slide under your body, and hoist you up. You let your own limb lazily loop around the back of her neck as she held you against her chest, and in the process, you couldn’t help but to glance down at the cement you had just used as your temporary resting place. You didn’t miss it, and honestly, you were only checking to see if you had left any blood behind.

You didn’t, thankfully. 

And so, it didn’t take long before you turned your focus back towards Gwen, and even though her face was covered by the mask she wore to hide her identity, you could still feel the worry that radiated off of her, with the way she stared down at you. It was dark out, yet with the moon shining down, and the artificial lights from buildings and signs radiating their glow across the walls of the alleyway, it wasn’t difficult to see her. “Thank you,” you eventually muttered, but all you got in turn was a wave of silence.

She nodded her head passively, before she spoke up. “Let’s just… go home.” She ignored your apology, which conveyed that she clearly wasn’t wanting to hash out your issues in a disgusting alleyway, while a trio of similarly disgusting burglars watched on. You understood, though a part of you had wished to receive the reassurance that things were okay between the two of you. 

You knew it wasn’t that easy, however. 

— — — — — —

You let Gwen carry you home under the guise of Spider-Woman, and you practically fell asleep due to how smooth of a journey it was. The trip was silent, full of pondering thoughts that circled throughout both of your minds. You slowly came to the realization that you were overly harsh when you had left, and the blonde had eventually come to terms with the fact that she was being way too hard-headed for her own good. She could have easily used the excuse that it was a trait she got from her dad, but it wouldn’t have made the situation any better, and she was well aware of that. 

Gwen let you go through the window of the apartment first, and you almost fell into the room, due to the unbearable soreness you felt surrounding your abdomen and head. Luckily, your girlfriend was quick to slip into the room right after you, and your arm was silently slung over her shoulders as she walked you towards the bathroom with her own limb secured around your waist. 

As much as you didn’t want to be the one to break the silence, you felt a wave of amusement fill your chest when Gwen helped you up onto the bathroom counter. “Well, this is romantic,” you mumbled, as you settled yourself onto the granite and fidgeted with your scraped up hands, all while you slightly swung your bruised legs back and forth. Sarcasm dripped from your tone when you spoke, but you could tell that the woman in front of you wasn’t pleased with your attempt at being comical. 

Gwen sighed and tugged the hood of her outfit down from hanging over her head. The moment she slipped her mask off of her face, she shook her head to settle her messy blonde hair back to normal, though she didn’t show a shred of joy in the action. For the first time in what felt like forever, your eyes eventually met her blue ones, and it didn’t take a magnifying glass to notice the shiny look in her gaze. The amusement you once held within your chest swiftly vanished, and a deep frown overtook your features as you watched her set her belongings next to you, before she moved close and wrapped her arms around your body. 

You felt your head press against the middle of her chest when her hand came up to pull you into her. The embrace that she gave you was tight, and you were quick to reciprocate it, as your own limbs moved up to hug around her waist. Her face moved down to bury itself in your hair as she squeezed your form, and you couldn’t stop yourself from closing your eyes when a wave of comfort washed over you. She seemed to find solace in the touch when she breathed you in and let out a shaky exhale, which caused your heart to squeeze even more than it already had, as your fingers scratched along her back, attempting to calm her silent worry. 

“I shouldn’t have let you leave. Not while we were still mad at each other,” Gwen mumbled, her voice muffled. “I tried looking for you when you did, but you just… you just vanished, and then I felt that you were in danger and I…” She trailed off and pulled back from the hug to look you in the eye. Her hands moved from behind your back to gently cup your face, and she furrowed her eyebrows in sorrow as your chin angled up to meet her concerned gaze. “I thought you died.” She shook her head and rubbed the pad of her thumb along your cheek, just barely grazing over the bruise that had formed on your skin, which caused her focus to flicker towards it for a moment. “I’m sorry for not listening to you. I know you care, but I guess I just felt like you didn’t trust that I could keep myself safe.” 

“I do trust you, Gwen,” you quickly replied, as your hands came up to hold onto her wrists. You didn’t try to push her palms away from your cheeks, though you made sure to give that part of her body a gentle squeeze, as a way to silently assure her that you weren’t upset. “And I know that you’ve got these crazy superhuman abilities because of what happened with you and that spider – which is still a story that I don’t understand–” You cut yourself off before you started rambling about an entirely different thing. A sigh slipped from your lips. “But… the point is that… even though you have the strength to lift – like, two cars or something, and the durability that allows you to get flung into a building a bunch of times without obtaining so much as a scratch… that still doesn’t mean you’re invincible,” you clarified, “I don’t want to come home one day, turn on the news, and find out that Spider-Woman – my Spider-Woman is dead.” 

Gwen frowned, “That won’t happen.” 

You pulled her hands away from your face and clutched them between your own as they fell into your lap. “But you don’t know that.” You shook your head and clenched your jaw, feeling a sense of worry hit your chest. “That’s what I’m so scared of. That your confidence will turn into arrogance,” you admitted, your voice soft. “I just don’t want it to be your downfall. That’s all.” You paused to gauge her reaction, but she only lowered her gaze and looked at the floor, as she slowly nodded her head. “I understand that crime-fighting is – basically – your full-time job, but I just need you to promise me that you’ll try not to let that confidence get to your head.” 

“I’ve gotten hurt many times before,” Gwen muttered, “I’ve healed… I always heal.” 

“But what happens when someone manages to get to your heart? Or another organ that could determine whether you live or die?” She remained silent, and you squeezed her hands tightly, trying to make your statement hold more weight to it. “You’ve gotten hurt before, but what if the next time, it’s fatal?” The question was rhetorical, and when she didn’t respond, it allowed you to continue. “All I’m asking, Gwen, is that you just try to be careful. Because I know you’re not all the time, and that’s what scares me.” 

Gwen knew that you were right. Just like every other Spider-Man in existence, she was also one that got herself into close calls with her fair share of what she called villains of the week. At first, she never truly worried about it. However, now, the reality of being in a relationship – while also being Spider-Woman – was hitting her hard. For the sake of helping you sleep at night, she needed to think about the consequences of her actions, which felt ironic, considering she had said similar things to the bad men and women she locked up. 

What goes around comes around, she thought. 

Although she was an extremely stubborn individual, Gwen could see the pleading look in your eyes, which was the ultimate thing that cracked her.

With a long, heavy sigh, she eventually relented, as her shoulders slumped, and a slightly exhausted expression fell onto her pale features. “Okay, okay…” She trailed off, before she pulled her hands out of the hold you had them in, and rested them back onto your cheeks. “I’ll be more careful from now on.” You felt her press a firm kiss to your forehead, and just as you were about to speak up and give her your thanks, she pulled back and held onto your chin with her fingers. “You too, though,” she added, which made your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I don’t want to see all this on your pretty face.” She gestured towards the bruising that had developed on your skin, which caused you to lightheartedly scoff. 

“Well, now you know how I feel when I see you come back from a fight all beat up,” you retorted. "And besides, it wasn't like I asked to be robbed in an alleyway."

Gwen pressed her lips together, before she pursed them in understanding and nodded her head. “Okay. Touche. You’ve got me there.” You shrugged, as if to silently say ‘I know,’ and instead of the usual quip you would have received from your girlfriend in response to your reaction, all she gave you instead was a loving stare that portrayed comfort. “Okay,” she hummed, before she let go of your face and stepped back to grab a medical box she had laying around… somewhere. “Let’s get you fixed up.” 

You stared at your partner for a few moments, watching as she scrounged through drawers and cabinets in an attempt to find where she had misplaced her medkit. Although the wounds on your skin slowly started to hurt, you couldn’t help but smile softly at the dorkiness she exuded. You yourself still had yet to apologize, but in that moment, you made a mental note to do so the moment she wasn’t too busy worrying about patching you up. 

Couples fought. It was a normal thing. 

You were just glad that it didn’t end everything.

[suzdin]

Belly of the Beast: Part I

Dark!Dave York x F!reader

Warnings: it’s Dave, so…buckle up! No use of y/n. Homicide with a gun, reader is shot and grievously wounded and dying, graphic descriptions of murder and gore, use of medical equipment/terminology, amateur triage and medical care, Dave is a voyeuristic creep, Stockholm syndrome?, physical restraints, partial nudity, divergence from EQ2 plot and major character deaths mentioned. No mention of wife or kids. No smut this time! (Shocking, I know.) Dark themes obviously, I mean, Dave DOES kill for money, after all.

Summary: You’ve been Dave’s housekeeper for two years. When you arrive for your morning shift, the last thing you expect to see is Dave standing over a body.

This was going to be a one shot but I decided it worked better as a two parter. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4,700

Taglist: tagging the people I know for sure want to be tagged. If you want to be tagged for part II, lmk!

@ohheypedrito @kateispunk @survivingandenduring @kellybelly1978 @awilderi @oberynslady @natdeandar @daddy-dins-girl @heavennumber2 @guelyury

—

The sky is still dark, a faint slice of jagged light cast across a slate colored horizon, when you arrive for the day at Dave York’s home.

You notice his car parked in the driveway as you pull in, checking your messages to make sure you hadn’t missed anything from him, finding nothing. You frown.

Normally, he would tell you when he would be home if he knew you were also going to be there that day. He simply must have forgotten to mention it this time. It wasn’t a big deal; you could just work around him like you always did.

He was gone for work more often than not. What that entails, you aren’t entirely sure of; all you knew was that he worked in D.C. Something bureaucratic, most likely.

What was even more curious than his unannounced presence, however, was a second vehicle parked behind his.

You pull up next to aforementioned vehicle and get out, gathering your bucket of cleaning supplies from the backseat. Dave provided most of what was used, but there were a few items you preferred for various reasons, with his approval, of course. You had been his housekeeper for the last two years, servicing his home bi-weekly, and he paid you well, plus tips. You had few complaints.

Although the home was large and stately, he lived alone as far as you knew. You couldn’t recall seeing anyone there before now.

As you walk along the edge of the driveway to the side door, you note the pale illumination filtering out through the kitchen window onto the concrete, which makes sense considering the time of day. He’s most likely just sitting down to have his coffee and breakfast. You hope you don’t startle him too much.

The sun is ascending rapidly, already burning brighter in the short walk from your car to the door, providing you with enough light to get your key out.

You unlock the side door, which steps directly into a small utility and mud room. The interior door to the kitchen is drawn shut, which wasn’t unusual, but an unfamiliar noise registers as you enter, immediately followed by what sounds like chair legs scraping along the tiled floor, and Dave’s voice saying what sounds like a name. Mac? Is that what you heard?

Your mind fumbles over the original sound, knowing it’s familiar, but that you can’t quite place it, trying to trace its source. You can best describe it as a muted pop, loud enough to notice but not so loud as to sound any alarm bells. Or so you think.

You smell the strong waft of coffee and eggs cooking as you enter. And something else.

The scene that is laid out before you as you push open the kitchen door is the last thing you would ever expect or want to find, and the realization of what the unidentified sound was hits you like a freight train.

What you discover is Dave standing above a body, pistol clutched tightly in his right hand, knuckles turning alabaster, with what you’re certain is a silencer screwed to the end of the barrel.

The body sprawled across the floor belongs to a man you don’t recognize, a pool of fresh blood spreading rapidly from a single gunshot wound to the front of the skull, bone and brain matter studding the kitchen island and wall, the stink of crimson iron filling the air.

Dave’s head snaps up when he hears you enter, his face gone pale, but otherwise completely blank and devoid of emotion.

Your eyes lock.

You think you say his name. You aren’t sure, and the only reason you know you’ve said anything at all is because you feel the muscles in your esophagus stretching and vibrating, your heart thundering inside your rib cage.

You’re smart enough to deduce that this isn’t some home invasion gone awry. The unknown car in the driveway and the trained, emotionless nature at which Dave currently presents himself is testament to that.

The only option left is that Dave killed a man. And now he has his sights trained on none other than you.

You drop the bucket of supplies, the hollow sound of plastic hitting ceramic reverberating in your skull as you turn, your brain screaming at you to run, run.

In hindsight, running was a bad idea. But panic doesn’t always create rationale.

You feel your legs pumping, your lungs sucking in air. You want to scream for help but when you attempt it, the only sound that comes out is a small, strangled croak of terror. You feel like a damsel in distress in every horror movie you’ve ever seen, almost as if you aren’t actually moving at all, like you’re just running in place while the villain slowly catches up to you.

If you could just reach the neighbor’s house. If you could just… reach…

You manage to make it to the driveway, but you’re barely a few steps onto the concrete when that same muted pop registers again, and you instantly feel a sharp, burning, agonizing sting that rips right through you like a hot knife through butter, knocking you ass over teakettle just paces from Dave’s car, your face slamming hard against the ground.

You look down to see the spreading circle of blood on your shirt against your lower abdomen, a geyser of red bubbling up from the wound. And Dave is on you in an instant, hovering above you, gun trained right at your head.

You know you’re a goner. Abdominal gunshots are frequently fatal, at least according to the kind of shows you like to watch. And at the rate you’re seeing your blood spill out, you know it’s anything but good.

Before you fully comprehend what is happening, your vision already waning, you’re pleading for Dave to end your life as quickly as possible, ‘please, please Mr. York, I’ve been good to you. Please do it fast’, you choke out.

But Dave doesn’t kill you. His dark eyes bore into you, through you, and he hesitates. He’s watching you die and beg for him to put you down and yet he can’t bring himself to actually do it, regardless of how many names he’s scratched out of his ledger without remorse. Maybe because you’re just an innocent, wrong place wrong time, but he can’t seem to do it.

“Please, don’t let me suffer,” you sob as you lift a single, quaking hand that is slicked deep burgundy, and still he doesn’t put you down, only lowering the gun to his side, and you can’t help but wonder what you did to deserve to suffer slowly like this.

Finally, some sense of self preservation washes over you, and even as you’re dying, in your final throes of desperation, you start ripping and clawing at your shirt, managing to somehow tear a sizable chunk out of it, in order to make some kind of makeshift tourniquet that could potentially save your life.

Your hands shake and slip, blood pressure dropping rapidly, and your vision wanes more, the edges of the lightening sky fading and blotting away. You suddenly feel very cold and you can feel your heartbeat gradually ebbing to a slow, dull throb.

The last thing you see before your vision goes completely dark is Dave crouching over you, his face screwed up in regret.

——

God damn it.

When Dave had found out only days before that McCall was still alive, and that his old compatriot had sniffed out the details shrouding Susan’s death, Dave had lost all sight of anything else, completely forgetting you were scheduled to clean his house that day.

Had he realized, he would have canceled. It would have made things far less complicated.

But God fucking damn it. He didn’t want to kill you, his militaristic training and instincts piloting his actions when you fled instead of surrendering, intending to put a round in your skull but changing his mind at the last possible fraction of a second so that he totally FUBAR’d the shot and hit your abdomen instead. A gut shot wasn’t much better. In fact, it was worse. Way worse.

You’re still breathing when he finishes applying the crude tourniquet that you had started, which didn’t completely stop the bleeding but slowed it enough to make a difference. That way, he could get you down into the basement where he could apply proper triage.

His medical training was rudimentary and archaic at best, but it was better than nothing. And it was his best chance at keeping you alive.

Your blood soaks through the light blue dress shirt Dave is wearing as he carries you through the house draped in his arms, the one you once told him looked nice on him. He takes you into the basement and places you on his work table — which isn’t sterile — noting no exit wound as he sets you down, which can be good or bad, all things depending.

Thankfully, he locates the bullet readily enough, fishing it out with a narrow pair of forceps, discarding it into a medical pan as he lets out a sigh of relief when he sees the bullet didn’t strike anything crucial, an incredibly lucky feat.

He grabs a skin stapler to close up the wound; a messy and rushed method of closure that would leave behind a pretty significant scar, but he didn’t have the luxury of time to close the wound properly with a needle, especially considering the rate at which his hands were already shaking.

He takes in a deep breath when he finishes stapling you back together and leans over you, examining your face and body visually, his mind racing as to what he should do now. You still had a pulse. You were breathing. But you had lost a lot of blood, and your prognosis wasn’t good.

Frowning, the crease deepening between his brows, he cleans and sterilizes the wound, wrapping you up in proper dressing, which he hopes is enough to stave off any infection. He can’t risk taking you to a hospital. Especially when there’s still a dead man to deal with only a floor above.

The good news is that he knew no one would come looking for McCall, the majority believing him to already be dead, so disposal would thankfully be swift and painless. You, on the other hand, he was unsure of. He knew your parents had passed and you didn’t have siblings, but he didn’t know if there was a boyfriend or girlfriend in your life, or friends who would notice your absence.

His mind reels with every possibility. Dave isn’t a man who enjoys loose ends. Loose ends make his ass itch.

Your shirt is shredded and bloody, so he removes the remainder of it, leaving you in a soft black cotton bra. He doesn’t let his eyes wander, although, at the back of his mind, he realizes he has always found you attractive. Just as quickly as it dawns on him, he shakes the thought from his mind; it is neither the time nor place for such endeavors.

He removes your shoes but not your socks, knowing you would be cold from having lost so much blood. He might actually put one of his pairs over your own, for good measure.

After a long beat of silent contemplation, Dave scoops you up into his arms once more.

——

You wake up from a fitful sleep some hours later, in a bed you’ve never slept in before. The room around you is dark, shades drawn, a faint light flooding in from beneath a closed door.

When you attempt to sit up, pain lances through your torso and you cry out, your back hitting the mattress. You immediately realize, much to your horror, that you’re also handcuffed to a bedpost. Even if you could move without effort, you aren’t exactly going anywhere.

Your memory suddenly comes flooding back in a tidal wave of images, recalling all of the events that lead up to this point; the body on the kitchen floor, the gunshot, Dave staring down at you with a pistol in his hand.

But you aren’t in a hospital and this isn’t a hospital bed. You’re in Dave’s bedroom. In Dave’s bed.

The door clicks open and a familiar silhouette steps into the room, regarding you in steely silence. You recognize the broad shoulders right away, the thick arms, the short cropped hair.

Your pulse quickens, your body and mind telling you to flee again, even though you know you can’t, causing you to flinch with a choked whimper when he takes a step toward you.

“I wouldn’t move, sweetheart. You lost a lot of blood,” Dave explains, his voice low and soft to your ears as he approaches the bed.

Your body is trembling hard. So hard that it makes the entire bed vibrate.

He’s no longer wearing the blue shirt or black slacks from before, now dressed in a slate gray t-shirt and Adidas sweats. His dark eyes study you as he sits next to you on the edge of the bed. If you weren’t so weak, you think you would strike him.

He lifts the back of his hand to your cheek and you flinch again.

“Shh,” he tuts, “I’m not going to harm you.”

His hand presses to the soft round of your cheek, your forehead, checking for fever.

“Y-you— you s-shot me—?“ you croak.

“I reacted poorly,” Dave agrees with a small nod, his lips parted softly, “but you also shouldn’t have run.”

“You k-killed… that man…”

“I did, indeed.” His eyes grow a shade darker, his brow knitting together, lending him a sinister appearance. “But that man was threatening me. That man was going to kill me…” Dave explains, an edge of malice and contempt to his voice. “I was left with few options.”

You stare back, unblinkingly, trying to decide what to say next, if anything.

“My family will come looking for me,” is what you settle on, a wash of bravery suddenly welling up within you.

To that, Dave smirks, eyes remaining dark, hand lowering to the bed by your hip.

“What family?” Dave asks, smirk slanting even more, his tone semi-mocking. “Do you really think I would hire someone to come into my home without doing a full investigation on them?”

Your jaw drops open, hanging slack in the air, as it dawns on you that a trained killer has been right under your nose this entire time. You would scream if you had the lung capacity to do so.

You should have seen the patterns. Noticed the signs. The constant travel, the lack of personal touches to his home, the pinpricks of blood you occasionally found on his clothes that you excused for other things. That one room in the basement he forbade you from entering.

But you hadn’t, causing you to nearly pay with your life.

Truth is, Dave had picked you for good reason, and it wasn’t just because of the exemplary reviews. You were naive and trusting, you had no family, no criminal record, you didn’t work for an agency; you worked solo. Your work ethic and reliability were just cherries on top.

You look down to notice the IV needle in your hand, and you lift it in examination, your hand shaking and sputtering weakly. No… no, you really had no clue who this guy was at all.

Dave watches you for a beat before he gently grasps your hand and places it back down on the bed, regarding you with uncharacteristic softness and empathy.

You feel your consciousness starting to drift then as Dave pulls the covers back to check the dressings, finding they’re still intact and that the wound hasn’t reopened from what he can tell. He’ll clean and redress everything in the morning. For now, you need rest.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells you, stepping out of the room for what feels like only a meager blip of time to you, but when you open your eyes again, he’s hovering above you once more with a thermometer and an ice pack.

“Open up,” he instructs, and you do so obediently.

“Good girl,” Dave praises as he checks your temperature, and you close your eyes.

When the thermometer beeps, which feels like an eternity later, he frowns, exhaling a long sigh. “101.5. Here,” he says, leaning to the side where he opens a drawer on the night stand, a bottle of aspirin rattling somewhere next to your head. The sound is grating, making your head throb, and suddenly the lamp seems too bright.

He feeds you some pills and gives you a drink of water from a nearby tumbler, which you guess was also on the nightstand, but aren’t too sure.

He pulls the blanket back up all the way to your chin and places the ice pack on your forehead, staring down at you. Although Dave was the reason you were even here at all, he is treating you with a surprising amount of tenderness.

“You need to eat,” he says after a moment. “Dinner is almost ready.”

——

You must pass out again, because when your eyes reopen, Dave stands next to you with a small tray table filled with food.

“Chicken and dumplings,” he explains. “It will keep the cold away.”

You nod your head weakly as he places the tray over you. When you reach for the spoon, he stops you, blocking your hand with his own.

“Let me,” he says, picking up the spoon. “I don’t want you moving anymore than necessary.”

You have to keep reminding yourself that he’s the one who shot you. He’s why you’re in this mess in the first place. Why you’re here, injured, with a hole in your abdomen, chained to his bed.

The way he’s acting shouldn’t be trusted.

You try to resist, but he grabs your jaw with the other hand and forces it to pop open, pressing the spoon past your lips as he ladles the soup into your mouth, much to your displeasure.

“Eat,” he says softly, but sternly, his features darkening in regard.

The food is warm, as promised, and delicious. You aren’t sure of the last time you ate, not knowing what time or even what day it is, but you soon realize you’re starving. Because of this, the second spoonful is not met with as much resistance as the first, your mouth hinging open in resignation and acquiescence.

Dave’s eyes zero in on your soft lips. The way they twitch ever so slightly as they divide. The way your tongue looks so velvet and inviting…

He feeds you slowly, thoughtfully, watching your every move, his own lips parted in concentration as you take in the much needed sustenance.

By the end of it, you’ve managed to polish off about half the bowl. Seemingly satisfied with that, he makes you drink some Gatorade.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask weakly as soon as you swallow down a couple gulps of the blue liquid, your consciousness ebbing and flowing by the second. Dave looks at your face, but he doesn’t give you an answer. He doesn’t have one to give.

Part of him wishes he did.

“I have to pee,” you tell him suddenly when you notice the familiar stab of discomfort in your lower region. A realization that sends a jolt of anxiety rushing through you, your pulse racing when you watch his face fall. He hadn’t even thought of that…

His skills and equipment were limited to wound care, so of course he hadn’t put a catheter in. He wouldn’t know how even if he did happen to have one.

He deliberates on what to do. He didn’t have a bed pan. But, he was sure he could find something comparable to use.

Or he could help you to the bathroom. He has an en suite, it was literally only steps around the bed. But the space was tight. It would take some maneuvering. And he would have to be close to you the entire time. Not to mention uncuffing you from the bed.

In the end, that’s what he settles on.

“Let me help you to the bathroom, sweetheart,” he says to you, pulling the blankets back, and you are cold. So cold. Your flesh pebbling with the lick of cool air against your skin.

He unlocks the handcuffs and you massage your sore wrist and shoulder the moment you have full motion of your arm again.

“Slowly,” he instructs, his voice low and even. “Grab the IV stand.”

You do as you’re told, gripping the cool steel in your hand as you grasp his forearm with the other while he gingerly manipulates you into a sitting position. You cry out at the sudden dagger of pain that slices through your lower gut, and he does his best to steady you against him.

He did this to you, you keep reminding yourself. He did this to you.

He lifts you carefully, slowly, and you groan at the swell of pain when he places you on your feet.

“Easy, easy…” he murmurs, one arm circling your waist to keep you upright. You flinch at the contact.

You make it to the bathroom easily enough, light flooding the small room as Dave flips the switch. A bathroom you’ve cleaned countless times. There was rarely much to clean in here, save for the occasional whisker in the sink, or some light trash in the bin.

Dave was neat and fastidious, and not frequently home. You often wondered why he needed someone to clean his house in the first place.

The space looks no different than usual, but right now it feels… different. You shouldn’t be here.

He guides you to the toilet, and when you get there, you stare down at it, pondering to yourself how this is going to work.

He seems hesitant to leave your side.

“Go ahead,” he tells you softly, “I won’t look.”

You freeze. The last thing you want is to expose your body to him when he already has several advantages on you. But your bladder is screaming at you to go, especially now given your proximity to the porcelain bowl, and you can barely stand on your own, your arms and legs wobbling.

You watch as he turns his back, placing himself between you and the exit. You bend just slightly to tug your bottoms down, but it’s too much, more pain coursing through your body. You yelp, unable to even budge the fabric.

“Hey,” Dave says, turning back to face you, “Let me help you.”

“No, I—I got it,” you protest, your arms shaking, attempting it again, only to end up with the same result. “Fuck—“

“Hey,” Dave says a second time, more sternly than before, as he moves in to your space. “Let me help. I promise I won’t touch you.”

You tremble. You’re cold, you’re frightened, you’re weak. So weak. You’re in your bra, partially exposed to him already. Yet, you concede with a nod anyway. You’ll piss yourself if you don’t.

He mirrors your nod in silent confirmation and moves closer, crowding into your intimate space, his fingers finding the waistband of your leggings and underwear. He slides them down your hips and legs in unison, all the way to your knees. As promised, he doesn’t touch you more than he needs to.

But he has to look. He needs to see where his hands are in relation to your body in order to keep himself from accidentally breaking his promise of touching you in a way you didn’t consent to, and another part of him just can’t help it, either. He is a man, after all, and he wasn’t currently seeing anyone. Romance wasn’t exactly optimal for someone in his position, his attention honed in on his work above all else.

When the nights were long and lonely enough, he would, on occasion, share his bed with a sex worker, but aforementioned nights were few and far between. He enjoyed his job. He got off on it. Romance was often placed on the back burner.

But there’s just something about you. Especially now, with how vulnerable you are, that he finds irresistible.

His gaze only lingers on your bared skin for a moment, big brown puppy dog eyes roving over your soft curves, holding on to you as he lowers you down to the commode. And, god, you’re just as beautiful as he imagined, his skin heating at the sight of your soft folds.

“Call for me when you’re done,” he grates quietly as he takes a step out of the bathroom, blood rushing to certain parts of his body, shutting the door to give you a modicum of privacy, which you’re more than grateful for.

His eyes on you had not gone unnoticed. You weren’t stupid and you weren’t seeing anyone either, currently; his attention, regardless of how brief, had made your skin heat and your core pulse with need. You clear your throat and try to discard the thought.

Dave is why you are here. Dave is dangerous. So dangerous he can’t even take you to a hospital to get proper medical attention. Stop it.

It feels like you pee for ages. You aren’t totally convinced you’re awake for most of it. Eventually, you finish, even managing to wipe yourself, in spite of things, which you’re relieved for. You wouldn’t want him to do it for you; that would be humiliating and degrading.

You call for Dave when you’re done and he returns in an instant, hoisting you to your feet as he pulls your pants and underwear back up and over your hips, trying not to think about your soft cunt. You can see how hard he’s trying not to look at you.

“Good?” he asks. You nod.

Bracing yourself against him, he helps you back to the comfort of the bed. It smells like him, despite how little he’s actually in it. You hiss through your teeth as he manipulates you into position, adjusting the pillows and covers until you’re as comfortable as possible.

You’re cold. Freezing, in fact, despite it being the swell of summer.

“I’m c-cold,” you lament to Dave, crossing your arms over your chest beneath the blanket.

Dave’s lips pinch to the side in thought. “Hold on.”

He returns a moment later with an extra blanket, tossing it over you, tucking the edges neatly around your form, taking extra care to be gentle, noteably around your abdomen.

As you watch him, his face and eyes soft, his hair mussed and unkempt, you ask yourself once again why he’s doing all of this for you.

Guilt? Shame? Something else?

You don’t have much time to ruminate on it for too long before your consciousness peters away once more.

——

Dave sighs as he watches you slip back into listlessness. You’re doing better than he anticipated, but you aren’t out of the woods yet. He knows how much blood you had lost; he’d spent hours cleaning it. Not to mention McCall, the remains of which he had delivered to an acquaintance who works at the industrial incinerator on the outskirts of town, after tending to you.

He loops your hand back through the cuff on the bedpost and peers down at you. You’re so beautiful; he hopes you make it. He wishes you hadn’t run from him. God, why did you run? He doesn’t want you to meet the same fate as McCall. He doesn’t want to know what your incinerated body smells like.

Every body has a different smell, in his experience.

He gives you another dose of morphine to reduce any pain you may be feeling and to keep you knocked out for a few more hours, checking for fever again, which is currently holding steady. It was good that it wasn’t going up. Any higher and you could potentially be in trouble. He’ll keep checking throughout the night to be on the safe side.

He sighs, knowing he’ll have to stay in town for weeks, which he detested doing. He hated staying in one place for longer than required. But he didn’t have much of a choice at this point.

He turns off the light and shuts the door behind him as he leaves you to rest.

Part II coming soon!

[cookie-crumblr]

Desperate Cookies<3

a Dark Desperate housewives/weeds style F!Reader X multiple Yan OC’s (M!doctor/Vet Ivar, F!bully Serana, M!Professor Reichsgraf, +more)

Episode 1~

Episode 2 here>>

MINORS DNI!

CW: Fem! Reader, reader has a vagina, reader referred to as she/her, reader has a bad relationship with food and her body(i usually add a lil comment to hopefully make it a little easier to read), threats with gun violence, guns, HARD DRUG USEAGE by reader and pm everyone else tbh, cervix fucking(just about), names against reader (dumb whore, little cocksleeve, ) p in v, failing marriage(for now 😚✨), cheating on both sides mentioned,

Disclaimer: I fully expect you to not like reader/not relate to reader, this is purely for entertainment and i implore you to think of it more like you’re an actor in a crazy DARK soap opera! :3 or this is a chance to get all the chaos out of your system, like me!

(DISCLAIMER: don’t do drugs plz, coke literally only lasts like 15 minutes, and it’s so dangerous. smoke pot instead if you need something and are able to responsibly an all that🥰✨! this is just how this reader feels)

Song rec: Do I make you Nervous? by Lilyisthatyou

“What!? What do you mean ‘lost’” You scrunch your two fingers in the air to quote the forbidden word in the face of your newest enemy.

“I donno what to tell ya, we just lost it.”

“How do you lose an entire shipping container!?” you rub your temple.

You could just about rip your hair out.

and unbeknownst to you, your face says it all.

Reaching under the diner’s table, you push the barrel of your gun to the thick meat of his left thigh.

“I’m s-sorry ma’am, I dunno what happened, I swear!” he cowers slightly with his hands up.

“Shut up.” When you speak, he instantly zips his lips.

The diner is decorated with paper bat and pumpkin bunting and pumpkin cutouts cover the windows.

A waitress comes to your table and puts a couple things down. She’s cute, you’ll give her a decent tip. two, maybe three hundred? Your eyes follow her rump in that frilly diner dress, the bow from the apron over her front makes her waist look so perfect too. you shake your head, back to the present.

You have a milkshake in front of you, vanilla, with whip cream, a cherry, and a red and white spiral striped straw.

Your delivery boy has a plate of various american breakfast items.

Neither of you touch the food. You’re watching your carbs(stupid disgusting fucking societal standards) and he’s clearly too scared.

You pull the gun away.

“Find it.”

At home~

The trees surrounding your estate are a multitude of golds, and bright orange.

Your “husband” isn’t here, thank the gods, cause fuck, do you never want to see him.

Ever.

Especially now that you’ll have to tell him a shipment is missing somehow. You put your gun in the safe in his office. The dark wood panel closes over the safe seamlessly with a turn of a busts head back into position.

Neither of you hide anything from eachother, affairs and all laid out bare, right on the table. too bad it’s only because neither of you care about the other in the slightest.

You grunt, and your head falls to the side, landing your eyes right on your antique candy dish…

You sigh, and stand to approach it.

Taking a deep breath you take the jagged pattered crystal glass lid and set it to the side. dipping your pinky into the white powder, you’re reminded that:

Every bump you take, you say you’ll quit.

You touch your little finger to your nostril and inhale sharply.

The drip down your throat almost makes you gag, you’ve still never gotten used to it.

But your good at hiding the bad sides of things.

It hits instantly, You feel as though you can do anything, and succeed. This time you inhale freely, without any weight on your shoulders, and exhale blissfully.

Getting the house ready to receive guests is more than a breeze, sure you could do everything without it, but it’s so much more fun while on it.

*Ding Dong*

Double dipping your pinky into that candy dish, and putting the lid back on, you’re now ready to head to that looming front door and open those flood gates.

They rush in in a massive herd, handing off their coats to your doorman, and rushing to complement you on either your attire or your home.

Yes yes, you’re both lovely, don’t let it all go to your head yet reader!

Now back to business.

“Is everyone comfortable? good, good. Now,” you stand in the back of the living room, opposite the closed french doors. “How are we feeling about the last chapters of the book?” You ask.

Yes.

You host your neighborhood book club.

Of course you are an active member of society, why couldn’t you be?

Just because you have a little cocaine empire on the side?

You still have to be a good trophy wife and keep up appearances.

~

A rough hand squeezes your neck, as the man attached pounds his dick deep into you, practically piercing into your womb.

“Yes! Yes! Ye—” Your voice squeaks as he cuts it off.

“Bad girls don’t get to talk,” He slaps your ass, eliciting another squeak from your throat.

The red hot sting comes down onto your ass again and you bite your lip. Your hips are digging into the desk, it hurts so much it’s raw, but holy fuck is his dick amazing.

“P-Professor!” You manage to breathe out.

“How did they lose a SHIPPING CONTAINER! Y/N! You dumb fucking whore. They Stole it!” he seethes as he yells at you through clenched teeth, his hips slapping into your ass.

He lets go of your neck to tangle his hand into your hair and pull you back against his body, and slaps your tit, as he bites your neck.

He’s left innumerable marks across your body tonight.

Your stupid husband.

You were arranged to marry this lazy, asshole, cougar chaser of a man by your parents. It’s not like you love eachother…

But his dick game is truly top tier.

“Ahhh~!” you whine out already too dumb on his cock to speak anymore.

“That’s it, take it, like a good little cocksleeve.” His long, hard dick presses deep inside you, the way he moves his hips while it’s still inside making sure to rub every spot you like makes you melt and shudder against him.

The sweet cashmere scent of him surrounds you, as it rolls off his glistening body in waves.

His thrusts become more unstable, and he bites down harder into your shoulder. It feels as though he wants to tear you open!

His hand comes down to your burning sex, to rapidly massage you.

You cry out, “Ah! mm-mm haaah!”your body twitches as he fucks you through your orgasm. Cum mixes with cum, forming a thick ring around his cock base.

He throws your spent body down onto the bed and then leaves you in the master by yourself to catch your breath.

You push your shaking self off of the mattress, wrapping the silk duvet around your sticky body before you go.

Upon inspection in the mirror, your hair is stuck to your forehead. Uhg.

Dropping the duvet, and without evading the chill of the air, you hop into the shower with Felix.

You don’t notice his eyes roaming your body, you’re too busy trying to stay warm in the water.

He hands you your shampoo with a sly smile.

“What?” Your voice is way more annoyed than you meant it.

“Nothing,” He shrugs and nonchalantly looks up at the ceiling as if it were anything interesting.

[inkmonster21]

Sing for Me

14. Let's Get High and Fuck

Cooper Howard × Fem!Reader / The Ghoul × Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence. From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

Tagged: @fallout-girl219 @harmfulb1tch @themadhattersqueen @one-of-thewalkingdead @giggle-shade

Walking along the sandy land all I could do was ponder on these distracting feelings. The heat on the back of my neck as we walk makes me tense. His eyes are addictive to look at, but when I give in and allow myself to gaze his way, I can not stand the pounding of my heart. The ghost of a memory unknown in my mind. So many memories were lost through the years of my torture. (Y/n), Melody, back and forth battling for space. I hadn't thought of myself in a long time. My body aches as I remember the special moments of her life... of my life.

The Ghoul's coughs caught my attention. He stops in his tracks bringing his canteen up to his mouth, the droplets landing in a large collection of radiated water in a round barrel. Lucy pants as she watches his actions. Her tongue projecting, begging for her to break. Just for a simple sip.

He dips his canteen into the puddle collecting the water. Lucy stumbles over and kneels next to the barrel. She dips her hand into the water and begins scooping it into her mouth. I can't say it wasn't satisfying to see her struggle. The closest I could get to hurting Henry MacLean was her, and that was just peachy at the moment.

The Ghoul nods as Lucy drinks the dirty water. "Now you're getting it." Lucy shakes as she gulps more of the water. The Ghoul tilts his head at her, "How does that Golden Rule jibe with what's going through your head right now?" Lucy glares at him, "What are you?" He smirks, "Oh, I'm you, sweetie. You just give it a little time." He spits up in a coughing fit once more, this time very powerful. He hunches over turning away from Lucy and I.

We make eye contact, a single choice, a 50 50 shot. Or if it went well, we could both get away. I nod once, and with that, we both sprint off in different directions. I race into a building shielding myself behind a wall, being able to peek out of the window near my head. I hear the scuffle of Lucy getting captured. I run my hands through my hair processing a plan. Did I need this shit? I was comfortable in my little bar singing for stupid drunk wastelanders who tipped well. Revenge smelt so sweet, but it wasn't worth getting severely damaged over. Eseshellay now that my trusted maintenance assistant is fucking dead.

The crunch of their steps stops, and I wait, shotgun posted up and aimed at the door. It was silent and my hopes raised. I lower my gun and sigh, I had done it. Just as I pass the open window, a loop straps around my middle. I look down in shock, before following the rope to its wielder. The Ghoul tightens his grip on me with one tug, he makes me tumble out of the window. I hit the sand with a thud, my arm breaking the fall, and the arm breaking in the process. The Ghoul pulls me back to him, "Where the fuck you think you goin'? Huh? Been long enough, honey. Ain't letting you go for shit." He mumbles lowly as he straddles me, his knees clasping against my hips.

That burning in my chest begins again, the slow ignite of the flame heats my body. My core aching with a certain want that has been disregarded for years. He grounds his hips down as he rips my hands up, my one arm limply in his grasp. He looks at it with a certain sliver of care. He quickly flips me over, my back facing him. He bends my arms back, takes my wrist, and ties them together tightly. I couldn't control the small whimper that left my lips. The small noise had a large effect on the Ghoul as I could feel a growing hardness in his pants. I stare up over my shoulder with wide eyes, surely shocked. He smirks down at me, "Shit, darlin', you think I could keep it down for you?"

He hauls me up and pushes me forward with Lucy. I shrug at her, a sad sorry defeat. My hands are still tied behind my back and my arm is still broken as I travel through the sand. The building coming into view makes my insides uneasy. I look at the Ghoul with panic. He doesn’t look my way, too distracted by his own determination to keep going.

We pass through a fence, the three of us walking up to the intercom. I look down in defeat. At least I would finally die. They would take my heart, the only lifeline I had. I could finally rest. I could finally be with my Cooper. The Ghoul presses the red button, "Transaction." Seconds later the attendant, answers, "Yes?"

"Two-month supply of vials. Exchange one female. Near mint condition." One? I look up to meet the Ghoul's eyes. His hazel eyes were so warm. His gaze comforting in the situation of life and death. The attendant voices again oulling his gaze away from me. "Condition grading requires physical evaluation. Please send her in." The lock buzzes, allowing the doors to open. Lucy stares into the dark building, "What's in there?" The Ghou pulls out his gun and aims it at Lucy, "You're about to find out." "You're selling me?" Lucy looks at me, tears in her eyes. "(Y/n), please." I look away at the sound of my name. I couldn't do anything, if this Ghoul was keeping me around, I had another day promised to live. I wasn't going to give up the chance to return home. I meet her eyes, sorrow in mine, "You can't always be a good guy out here, Lucy. I'm sorry." She stares at me with wide eyes, anger and panic in her gaze. The Ghoul pushes her roughly, "You got problems out here, too. Best you try your luck behind that door." She stumbles on, advancing through the doors leaving the Ghoul and I in silence.

He looks down at me, blinking heavily. He swallows dryly, a low wheeze in his lungs, and topples to the dirt motionless. What a convenient thing to happen to allow me to escape...

I don't take a second thought as I run away, tracking our previous steps. My heart beat quickly, yet a smile was not on my face. I was going home. I should be happy... right? I stop running and lean against a crumbling brick building. I rest my head on the wall, closing my eyes. My head hurts as memories flash through my mind. Unwilling I am made to see the most happy moments replaying. Most of them Cooper and I. The early mornings making breakfast and sipping coffee as he makes jokes. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of hazel. They would always light up when he saw me. I could tell he was truly happy when we were together. The truth always held in his orbs. I could always see the threads weaving his soul through his orbs.

I missed his eyes the most...

His eyes...

His fucking eyes...

"Oh fuck..." I push myself off the wall and sprint back in the direction I just came from. Half a mile away a stampede of Ghouls is running in scattered directions, rushing past me paying no mind. I push myself harder. If he were to die without knowing... Without me finding out if he could be...

The entrance of the building came into view, but no Ghoul on the ground. So, that was a good sign. No Lucy either...

I walk into the door, the scatter of glass bottles and heavy panting can be heard the closer I get to the middle of the store. The Ghoul hunched over the coffee table, digging into the supply box, scooping several vials and bottles of pills into his hat.

It had to be him. That or someone just decided to jack Cooper Howard's closet after the bombs dropped. "You feeling better?" The Ghoul whips around, his hand automatically grasping for his gun at his hip. A sly smile working on my lips. I look over his body, the long duster coat shielding most of him, but I can still imagine. "Looks like it anyway." The Ghoul tilts his head, a light grumble rising from his chest. "What are you doing here?" I walk towards him, looking down at him as he stays on his knees. A sight I could've only imagined until now.

"Not much I can do with my hands tied behind my fucking back, and a broken arm can I?" I turn around, pressing my ass closer to him, twisting my bound wrists. "If you don't mind." He grants my request, cutting the rope. One arm falling limply to my side, still broken. I'll have to work on that...

"Thanks," I walk around him, taking a seat on the couch, I kick the dead body off the cushion beside me before lifting my legs to rest. The Ghoul tracks my movement with his eyes. His questioning orbs stare into mine directly. Who was going to break first? Did he remember me? Was he even him? I look down at the powder on the shard of a mirror. "You going to take that?" He slides it over the table with a grumble, "Not much fucking use without a nose, sweetheart." I giggle as I quickly snort the line. I tip my head back as the drugs burn in my brain and existing nerves. I was thankful this was one of the effects I could still enjoy. A good habit? Fuck no, but this was the wasteland. Had to do something to numb reality.

I looked back to the Ghoul and I could see him. A smile on his face as he watches me, unable to hide the warmth I provide his soul. "I kinda dig the whole no-nose thing." He tilts his head, "A ghoul kinda girl, huh?" I shrug avoiding his eyes. "Maybeee."

I lean up and dig into the box of various drugs. Pulling out some chems and pills I smirk at him. "You wanna party a little?" He raised his hairless brow, "Shit, I ain't saying no to a good time."   

I snort a line and knock on the table as I feel the numbness swell in my body. After a bottle of liquor, several pills, and a rolled joint the Ghoul and I were both slumped on the couch. I cough as I pass the joint to him, the parallel in the universe replaying.

“Good shit, isn’t it, darlin’?” I agree as I stand to my feet. I look at myself in a mirror. I was built to perfection, not a hair out of place, nor a smudge of makeup. I watch him look over my frame in the mirror. He meets my gaze and locks in. "I had a life before all this shit. A good life." He watches me intensely in the mirror. "I was a fucking star. You think this here is something, you should've seen me back then." His lips tug in a small smile, he blinks slowly as if imagining my words. "I was engaged too. That actor from the movie poster. Cooper Howard. Fine mother fucker. I'm telling you." The smile on the Ghoul grew even more. I was playing with his ego, one thing Cooper Howard was fond of. Clearly, nothing had changed that much.

"I just have one question for you." I turn around, facing him, beginning to stalk his way. I waltz towards him, playing a game of cat and mouse. I wanted him to break first. I stop in front of him, his eyes gazing into me. His hat was still abandoned on the table, now empty with the supply stashed in the saddle bag. I see a single corner of a photo tucked into the band of the hat. Our photo. I take the hat between my fingers, plucking the photo out of the band. I place the hat on my head and press a hand onto the Ghoul's shoulder, pushing him back onto the couch. I stare into his eyes, traveling into his soul. He's lived for too long, in search of me. When I breathed, so did he.

I hold up the picture for his viewing. He switches his gaze from the photo to my orbs. I lean in closer, our faces exchanging the same oxygen. "Do you think I'm fucking stupid, Cooper?" His eyes are closed as I speak his name, a breathe leaving his dry lips. I place a hand on his wrinkled cheek, resting our heads together. His ungloved hands claw at my clothes, pulling me into his lap. I melt into him, merging into his frame, getting as close as we could. I nuzzle into him, our foreheads still together. I wrap my arm around his neck, "I thought you were dead." His grip on my jacket was so tight I could hear the seams fighting to stay sewn shut. Cooper looks up at me, with an undying smirk. "Well, darlin' you did say you'd wait 200 years to love me. Can't hate me for taking that literally." I lean into our lips just an inch apart. I ghost over them before pulling back with a smug smirk, making him chase me.

"You ain’t runnin’ from me." He grabs the back of my head, pulling me flush against him in a heated kiss. Needy and rushed as he clawed at my clothes. The jacket was long removed, and my pants slid down my legs with haste. Cooper lowers himself near my legs. He pulls them apart just an inch before I shut them. It had been so long, that I was nervous in the simplest way to say it. He didn’t like that, shoving his hands between my thighs and splitting them apart with ease, pushing them far enough to make me wince from the stretch. 

He tucked his fingers beneath the waistband of my underwear and ripped them free, the poor thin fabric never stood a chance. The cool air hit my exposed flower like a slap, showing my needy cunt to him above. His fingers daringly intruded my slit, thick and rough against my warm, velvet skin. Bucking my hips to free myself only made his pleasure that much easier, his fingers easily welcomed into my soaked walls. Cooper rests his head against my knee, placing several kisses and nips at the skin. “Spread your legs, baby, that’s it… Wider.” I moan as his fingers dig deeper, curing my most sensitive glands.

My body was beyond harmonizing with my mind for once. It was all a perfect world when Cooper was around. The blissful sensation dawning upon my body was a rush of warmth deep in my belly. It coiled in my gut like a constricting snake. I shutter, fighting against Cooper to close my legs. He holds them open, his eyes glued to my pussy as he pumps his fingers in and out. "That's it, you're taking my fingers so well, honey. Such a good girl." I archer up for him, pulling him closer. I had to have him.

He sank onto me, our mouths meeting with a passionate kiss. He ground into my frame. He was already rock-hard. I ran a hand over his chest, leading it to his pants, unbuttoning them in a rush. The bulge straining against the fabric finally released, revealing him.

I widen my eyes in shock. He had grown surely! He was certainly girthy; veins spidering along the length, tracing to the bulbous red tip, a pearl of pre-cum sliding down the head of his cock. He meets my orbs, cares appearing in secret. He whispers in a calm voice, "Is this okay?" I nod, "Please, Coop. Please."

He wasted no time, he plunged himself in, my body giving no resistance. I winced initially, my walls stretching almost uncomfortably to accommodate his width, filling you to the brim. “Fuck,” he breathed, his voice nearly stuttering. “So damn tight.” He pulled back and slammed his hips forward, sending forth a wave of absolute knee-trembling ecstasy.

I was a moaning mess, sprawling on the couch, clinging to him as if he could slip away. "You feel so good!" I swore out loud, my body melting within his hold. my back arched, head tilted to sing my pleasure to him.

He’d snaked his fingers to my center, fiddling and teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves. I hardly could comprehend the second build of the release. With a few quick strokes, the coil wound deep sprung, manifesting as a scream.

Cooper’s lips were quick to find my own, swallowing the outlet of my pleasure. He dragged his fingertips in conjunction with his thrusts, wringing my orgasm to the last drip. He relented once satisfied.

“Almost done, sweetheart,” he grunted in between heated kisses, moving his hand to grip the arm of the couch, providing more leverage for himself. Without another word, he drove himself even faster and harder. It wasn’t much longer until he pressed deep, a guttural growl resonating within his torso as he released his spend within me. He groans out with his eyes closed.

The stillness encircled the two of us, my heart hammering within my ears almost deafening as it settled. Cooper's frame, shaken slightly from his heavy breathing, straightened up but not before fluttering his lips against mine for another kiss. He pulled out of me, causing me to whine at the loss of feeling.

While tucking himself back into his pants, he grabbed a spare cloth from behind himself to help clean me up. I stare at him as he wipes me clean. He was still the man I loved. He just wore the story of someone who has run through some tough shit. "You're so handsome." Cooper looks up at me with a confused look before he shakes his head and looks away. "Shit, darlin', you need to get your eyes checked." I move quickly, grabbing his face in my hands. "I might even say, you're more sexy now. I am digging this bounty hunter badass. It does it for me." Cooper forces down a laugh, "You're a fuckin' idiot." Where before he could laugh freely, now he pushes it down and remarks with smartass comments, but even I could see past his wasteland bullshit.

[desswright29]

Soldier Girl

Warnings: (Smut 18+), Mentions of blood, Inexperience

Pairing: Mo WashingtonX Black Fem reader

word count: Baby ion know. Let it ride

A/N: Enjoy!!

I stepped out onto my porch couple hours ‘fo sundown. Going out to collect a bit mo’ wood for my oven and fire pit. I grab my axe throwing it over my shoulder, hiked up my dress and set out on my usual path, intendin’ to make quick work of me one of them dead tree’s in them woods near by. Don’t much happen ‘round these parts for me. No neighbors for miles and I grow all I need right chea on my land, only gotta make a trip to town ‘bout once a month. Built me a good size house and barn fo’ my animals, got a few chickens as well. I do damn well on my own and that’s how I likes it. 

  As I walk, gettin’ further down on my trail I noticed a horse tied to a tree a lil up yonder. As I got a bit closer, I found a man laying ‘gainst that same tree, hat covering his face, restin’ I reckon. But, I don’t take to kindly to folk trespassing on my land. So, I silently make my way cross the brush up to the restin’ fella. Fast as lightenin’ I brought my axe down to meet the side of his neck stopping short from cutting’ ‘em. Just as fast, I was met with the barrel of his Remington six-shooter. 

 “Who’s you and why is you in my woods.” I say real calm like. His other hand come up grabbing his hat placing it back on his head directly. He slowly turned his head toward me careful not to meet his neck with my blade. That’s when I got a view of his sharp jawline, perfect lips (not too full, not too thin), and the tip of his nose. Hm, look like he a handsome fella.

“I ain’t know’d nobody owned these here woods Ma’am I’s just passing through. Needed a rest thas all. I can be on my way.” That’s when he looked all the way up, I got a peak under that there hat, and I’ll be damned….

“You’s a lady!” I say. I wasn’t asking. I know a woman when I see one, and this one here  was one of the handsomest women I’d ever laid eyes on, it could take ya’ breath away. She looked at me, expression not changing. 

“Ma’am, I promise ion’t want no trouble. If you would lower ya blade, I could be on my way.”

“How ‘bout you lower dat gun first.”

“How ‘bout we do it together.”

“Fine by me.”

“A’right on three.” She say, gettin’ up real turtle like from her spot on the ground. “One.. two.. three”

We both put down our weapons and then fast brought ‘em back up. She looked at me and smirked. My stomach felt all fluttery. She put her gun down and I followed along wit my axe.

“What’chu doin’ out chea lookin’ like this gal” I say. Curious to know why she was out here masqueradin’ in men’s clothes.

“Just passin’ through ma’am. I’ll be on my way now.” I looked her up and down as she gathered her things to head out. Her clothes was covered in blood, she looked like she hadn’t rested in days. 

“Naw nie, you look like ya’ need some rest. That yo’ blood?”

“That ain’t yo’ bidness”

“Gon’ be my business if you want me to let ya’ rest here. It’s almost sundown and all this here my land. Where else ya gon’ go gal.”

She turned her head left and that’s when I saw the gash in her neck. I gasped.

“Somebody hurt you!”

“Don’t matter. They gone now” She say, mystery lying’ in her tone. Dat’ll be a story fo’ another time.

“Let me help ya.” I offer. “The sun gon go down in a few. I’s just gathering some wood so I can cook some dinner and light a fire to keep warm. My house just up yonder. You know these nights get freezing, and you look like you could use a hot meal. I got some water, apples, and some shelter for your horse too.”

She looked up into the sky and then back down at me with those eyes that was as deep as pools. Filled with stories. She nodded. 

“Well, lady I reckon I should know your name if you gon’ be my guest” I say.

“Mo. Mo Washington.” She say, with a tilt of her hat.

“Mo. I’m Y/n” I say with a nod.

“Nice to meet you Miss Y/n” She looked at me, sizing me up cautiously. 

“You ain’t gotta worry bout me lest you here to cause harm. You safe round here. Why don’t you help me gather up me some of this here wood and we can head on back.”

“Dat sound just fine Miss Y/n” Mo’ took off her jacket and threw it over her horses back, she rolls up her bloodied sleeves and takes the axe from my hands. 

“I’ll cut. You can load it on ol’ Blondie over there.” She pointed at her horse, and went to work. 

I watched her work. The veins protruding from her forearms as she gripped the axe and swung hitting the the stump she found with 

precision, easily breakin’ it down. She was strong, and I was intrigued. 

“What’s yo’ story? If you don’t mind me asking. How you end up here?” She brought the axe up and back down with a grunt, breaking the stump into another halve. I bit into my lip. My God.

“Once, I was set free, I decided to join the war. I watched them boys for awhile, and then I cut my hair bought a suit, walked on the base and picked up a uniform.” Grunt, slam. “Made enough money to get out and buy me a gold claim, so I can buy me and my people some land out this way. Ran into Tommy Walsh and his boys on the way to cash the claim, the coach crashed, ruined the claim.” Grunt, slam. “Long story short everybody dead and the good Lord saw fit to get me out alive, nie I’m tryna get far way from that place as possible.”

“You killed Tommy Walsh and his boys!?” My eyes wide as saucers. As a walked over gathering the wood she cut to stack on her horse back. She glanced over her shoulder at me. 

“Only cause I had to.” There them damn flutters again. 

“ Hm, So you’s a soldier. I ain’t never met no soldier gal befo’ “

“ We’ll I’m the only one I know of” she say walking up to me hand reachin’ out for a shake axe thrown over her shoulder. I reach and grab it, admiring how veiny and strong her hands are “So nice to meet ya.” She say, with a small smile. Our eyes met as we shook hands. The touch sent ‘lectricity through my body. Was it possible that I fancied this woman? The touch lingered a bit longer than normal. 

“Uh I-I reckon we got enough here. We should head back fo’ dark catch us.” I said letting go of her hand. She stepped back eyes still on me, she smirked a little before tying the wood to the horse and guiding Blondie towards my home as I led the way. 

The walk was silent as I walked beside her. I couldn’t help but to keep glancing’ her way. Lookin at the stride of her walk. All them cuts ‘n bruises and she still walked real smooth. This Mo smoother than any man I ever met. “You smell real pretty” I hear her soft voice break our silence. I smile. 

“I make my own soaps and butters out of some of the stuff I grow in my garden. I’ll let you choose some to wash with tonight. I know you’re dying for a good soak.”

Mo’ smiled and nodded, as we walk up to my home. I led her round back to the stables and gardens and got Blondie some apples, then led her over to the trough to tie her up so she could drink. Filling my witches pot with water to boil, I couldn’t help but feel a pair of eyes borin’ a hole into my back.

“How a lil lady like you get all dis here? You got a husband?” Mo’ say walking up on my porch with me. I scoff a bit. 

“I’m surprised a strong woman like yo’self would aks a question like that. Another woman can’t be jus’ as strong as you?”

Mo’ smiled using one side of her mouth. Tilting her head to the side a bit, her hat adding that mystery to her. It was almost seductive. 

“I ain’t said all that gal, I’m sure you plenty strong. You sho’ll stacked up to be.” A hint of what I believed to be flirtatiousness in her voice. Couldn’t be. 

Thank the Lord fo’ my chocolate skin though, cause I’d be red as a tomato from blushin’. I turn ‘round and head in the house with her following behind me. I can hear her chuckle. 

“To answer yo’ question Soldier gal, I built all this here m’self. I sell my soaps and things, milk from my cow, vegetables from my garden, and I do a bit of sewin’, to pay for supplies, and I do pretty damn good.”

“You out here all by yo’ lonesome?” Her eyebrow raised. 

“Yup, I do a good job handlin’ m’self too” 

Mo laughed, I knew then I’d do anything to hear that sound come from her again. 

“Yea, I got a piece of that when you had yo’ axe up ‘gainst my neck.”

I raised a confident brow and headed to the kitchen. 

“Got yo’self a nice place here Miss”

“Thank ya’ very much.” I smile big with pride. We should get you cleaned up fo’ dinner. Come on here, I’ll show you to the Wash room. First let me let you pick something to wash with. And get you some clean clothes.” I take her to my room pullin’ out my collection of soaps, oils, and butters.

“Whatever you wanna use just take it”

“You say you sell these?”

“Yea”

“How much?”

“Don’t worry about that I’m giving it to ya’”

“I can’t take from yo’ livelihood” 

“ Chile! It’s only a few lil thangs I got plenty just take it!”

“Awright, awright gal, Shucks!”She went through smelling the soap, until she got to one I could see she took a liken’ to. “That one right there I make out of bergamot and lemon, it would suit you well.”

There goes that smile again. I could just die. 

“I’m sure your waters done. I’ll go get it.” I say.

“Naw, I’ll take care of it. You can gon’ get started on that dinner.” 

“All right. I’ll leave you be. I layed out something comfortable for you to wear for dinner.” 

I decided to change into my thin white house dress to be a bit mo’ comfortable. I head back to the kitchen. And put on my apron, and pull out my chicken from the icebox, I’d  got it all seasoned and let it marinade through out the day. Figured I’d make chicken, peas, and cornbread. I got my oven all started up and got the food going. Once I got my cornbread in the oven, I decided to go and check on my guest. I walked to the wash room and knocked. 

“You doin’ aight in there?”

“I’m fine.. actually I was wondering if you had shampoo.”

“It’s in there in that lil cabinet. I could get it for you if you don’t mind me bein’ in there.”

“It’s fine.”

Slowly opening the door and making my way in, I see her in all her glor, soakin’ in the tub eyes shut head lying back relaxed. I walk to the cabinet and grab the shampoo. 

“ You know uh, I-I could wash it fa’ ya. You been through a lot gettin’ this far. I’m sure you could use a lil pamperin’. ” 

Mo opened her eyes, turning’ towards me lookin’ me directly in the eyes, she nods slowly. I move toward her, nealing at the side of the tub, grabbing my water cup to dip into the water and pour into her hair. I add the shampoo and began to massage it into her scalp. A deep groan come from Mo’s throat, she closed her eyes and sank deeper into the water. I smile and continue to lather rinse and repeat as I hum her a song. 

“Ain’t nobody handled me this gently since I’s a baby I reckon”

I smiled. And reached out a hand in front of her as I finished washing her hair. 

“ Here, let me get that sponge imma get ya back fa’ ya’”

Mo handed me the sponge and sat up. Surprisingly, she had a beautifully smooth back. I started washin’ her and she moaned meltin’ into my touch. The more sounds of approval I got the more it felt like an honor to cater to this here soldier gal. And I knew then, I did indeed fancy her. I wanted her more than I wanted to breathe right now.  

  I brought the sponge up from her back round her shoulders allowing her to sit back in the tub again. She leaned back and our heads were so close that I know she could feel my breath ticklin’ her ear. I held the sponge ‘gainst her upper chest and began to scrub. She brought her hand up to stop me and we locked eyes. Her eyes were filled with a confused type of desire, as our faces grew closer. I had to admit I was feeling the same. My head was confused but the throbbin at my core felt very sure. Our lips grew closer touching in the most gentle of kisses. Sendin my head swirling. I pulled back breakin’ away from those lips that were slightly rough, but in the most beautiful way.

“I’m sorry… I should go f-finish cookin” I say rushin out the do’.  What in the world was that?  I think as I start to fry my chicken.

A little later she come in the kitchen, dressed in  a fresh button up and some more twead slacks that I’d sewn to sell, smelling like fresh bergamot and her Afro damp and picked out, parted in the right side. My heart stuttered, as she sat down at the table, chair turned to face me. I pulled the cornbread from the oven. And feeling eyes on my backside I had to break the tension. 

“You like what you see soldier gal?” 

I turned to look at her, and she looked caught. Sitting man spread, leaned back in the chair hands restin cooly on her stomach, bottom lip trapped inbetween her teeth. Her eyes shot up to meet mine. 

“I I I’m uh sorry.”

“That’s not what I asked” I say, wiping my hands on my apron and walking towards her. A sudden burst of bravery hit me, I stopped right in front of her, her knees touching my shins. 

She shook her head to both sides absentmindedly. 

“I-it ain’t natural.” She says

“That ain’t what I asked neither. It ain’t nobody but me and you here, and I’m askin you, Do you. Like. What you see?” I ask bending over the chair holdin on to the seat of chair next to her thighs so I could be face to face with her. Her eyes locked on mine, and she nodded.

“Y-yea yea I reckon I do.”

“Is it comin’ natural to ya’? To like lookin’ at me?”

“I reckon so” she say breathin’ pickin’ up.

“Well that right there sound natural to me” I stood, leaving’ her breathless wantin’ mo’. I turned to go fix her plate. Putting a little extra somethin’ in my walk to give her a show. I could hear her let out a long sigh behind me. I fixed our plates and sat them down at the table, sitting next to her. 

“Eat up” 

“Look good” She say’s, but when I look up I see she’s looking at me. I bit my lip and  turned toward her. Reckoning’ she wasn’t hungry fo’ no food at the moment.

“When you lookin’ at me like that. What you thinkin?”

“I ain’t thinkin’ as much as I’m feelin’. “

“Well what you feelin’?” Her eyes lower in an undeniable lust, and her voice is lower than i remember when she speaks next. 

“Like I wanna kiss you, and I wanna feel you pretty lady. You gon’ let me do that?” She ask, leanin’ forward elbow on the table. 

I stand again. This time making my way over to her, I push her back in her seat, hiking up my dress I make myself comfortable with both legs on either side of her lap. 

“Do it please, kiss me, touch me. You can do whatever you want with me soldier gal”

She hungrily leaned in and connected our lips. Her hands gripped my waist as my arms snaked around her neck and I started to roll my body into her lap. Her hands lowered from my waist down to my backside givin’ it rough squeeze. She pulled away from the kiss, shocked. 

“You ain’t got on no drawers!?” She whisper yelled. I laughed heartily.

“I’on like wearing’ em round the house.” 

She growled low in her throat, and next thing I know I was being picked up and placed onto the table. Plates pushed to the side. Mo’ crawled on top of the table between my legs wrestlin’ with her shirt. I reached down helpin her untuck her shirt and I clumsily unbuttoned her pants as she got her shirt unbuttoned, and tossed to the side. Our lips connected again with her pressing her body into mine slowly grinding into me. I moan into her mouth reaching under her form fitting tank she still had on, touching the smooth skin of her firm stomach. 

“I ain’t never done this befo’” she manages to say between kisses. I pulled away and looked into her eyes. 

“Me neither, but it’s natural right. So we’ll just listen to our bodies. Do what they tell us to right?”

“Right.”

She leaned in, kissing my forehead, the tip of my nose, my lips, my chin, down to my neck. She took her time there. Sliding the straps of my gown down my arms revealing my breast. She looked down at them licking her lips. She went down further attaching her lips to my left breast while palming the other. 

“Ah! Mo” her name comes out as a sigh on my lips. She moans at my taste, bringing her tounge out flicking it over my nipple before reattachin herself suckin a bit harder. She moves on from that one showin the other some attention too. Then she squeezes them together burying her face into my breast. Kissing, licking, sucking, moaning like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted. I could feel my core leaking, waiting for her touch as she gave my body some much needed attention. She made her way down my body until she pulled my dress up making it bunch up at my center. 

She opened my legs groaning at the sight of my flower. She began to kiss her way down my thighs. I threw my head back eyes clenched shut in anticipation. Then I felt her hand touch where I craved her most. My breath hitched.

“ My God… it’s so wet” she placed her thumb on my pearl, Stroking up, down, circle, circle. Up, down, circle, circle. She repeated the pattern. 

“Ooooh Mo Babyyy! Y-you makin my body feel so goood!

“You smell so good Miss Y/n, I wanna taste you, can I put my mouth on you?”

“YES! Oh God please yes!” My breathing picked up, as she lowered herself down on me. I moaned softly as she placed a gentle kiss on my lady parts. Then another, and another. Slowly she stuck out her tongue and began licking long slow strips through my folds. It felt like my soul had left my body and was somewhere in another universe. I thought that was as good as it could get until Mo’ wrapped her lips around my pearl and began to suck. My eyes snapped open, my body lurched forward, mouth droppin open into the shape of in O, and my arms came down behind me to hold my body steady. 

I watched her work. Strong hands gripping my thighs, face buried between them, eating me like I’s the best meal she ever had. “Mo’ I-I Oooooo”. Words betrayed me as my body shook from the pleasure I was recieving. I began to roll my hips into her face, head dropping back as I brought my hand up to grip her freshly washed hair. Apparently, this drove her crazy, because both of her arms wrapped themselves tightly around my thighs and before I knew it I was being lifted into the air and carried to the nearest wall. She pressed me up against the wall as I sat on her shoulders as she devoured me from what felt like the inside out. I was going crazy. She brought a finger to my entrance and started to thrust it inside me. 

“Gyat Damnit Soldier Gal! I-I f-feel like I’m gonna explode! I can’t take nomore! Please!”

She took her mouth off only for a moment.

“ Yes you can. You can do it You strong pretty lady. Take it. I’m not done tasting you.”

“ AHHHH! Mo somethings happenin’ Don’t Stop!!! ” I scream as a warmth radiated throughout my entire body. I felt something snap inside my belly and then I was gripping the back of her head with one hand and the other shot to the ceiling. My hips bucked into her face and my back arched. My body was trembling overwhelmed by this new sensation, tears began to stream down my face. I had never felt anything like that befo’. 

Mo, stayed down there and licked up every drop, then gently lowered me down, wrapping my legs around her waist.

“You alright pretty lady?” I looked at Mo with stars in my eyes, speechless. Still slightly jerking coming down from my high, causing Mo  to chuckle a bit. “Talk to me little lady”. 

I grabbed both sides of her face kissing her passionately. “I wanna make you feel good too, you been doing all that fightin’ and killin’, you deserve to somethin’ pleasurable.”

“You gon’ do that for me?” She bit her lip and raised a brow.

“Take me to the room and I’ll show you.”

Mo’ smiled and ran to the room with me in her arms. Once we reached the room, I wiggle out of her arms and push her backward until we reached the bed. I push her back onto the bed and pull off her tank, allowin her to pull down her pants and underwear. She now lay underneath me completely naked and all I wanted to do was take care of her. 

I hover over her looking her deep in the eyes. Takin in all her scars. They somehow made her more beautiful. Knowin all she had been through and here she was trustin’ me with her body, Layin bare. I couldn’t possibly let her down. I kissed her neck right above the healin scar, and the other side against the one already healed. I moved down to her breast takin my time there. Her back arched as she brought her hands up to the back of my neck holding me up against her breast as though she was feeding me, and I sucked her slight but pretty breast like I’d been starving’ for years. 

I left a trail of kisses down her belly making my way to her pretty little womanhood. In between strong toned chocalate thighs that glistened with her need for me. I placed two fingers against her folds. Swiping up, seeing her wetness coat my fingers. I hummed, looking up I met the eyes of the Soldier Gal, and proceeded to press a kiss against her bud. She let out a hissing sound, the arch in her back getting deeper as she threw her head back. I followed her lead doing what I’d felt her do to me. 

“My my pretty lady” She moaned with that enchanting voice of hers, as I stuck my tongue inside her entrance moving it in and out. I brought my hand to her pearl and rubbed circles as I continued to bask in her taste. 

“Oh right there! Please make me feel good!” She screamed grounding her heat into my face , that’s when something came to me. I pulled away suddenly earning a disappointed huff from Mo.

“It was feeling so good! Why’d you stop?”

“I w-want to try something. Uh, I want to feel you up against me”

“Huh? I ain’t no man I don’t think we gon feel nothing.”

“Let’s just try it hm?” She nods her head. I began to position myself over top of her. Throwing a leg over hers, then reaching down to spread open her lips, I lowered myself down onto her and both of us moaned out. Our eyes connected and we both smiled as I began to move my hips ‘gainst her. Her hands shot up to my hips holding me as she moved under me. We let out a simultaneous “Ooohhh!”. 

“Oh goodness, Pretty lady t-this here feel too good!”

“Mhm!” Is all I could manage in response as I speed up the pace reaching down to pinch and play with her nipples. She groaned as her eyes closed and her breathing picked up and her head began to thrash side to side. 

“Uuuhhhnnn!! I think I’m bout to explode!”

“Yes soldier gal that’s it! Let it take over you! We gon’ explode together! “

“Y-you feel s-so good ‘gainst me p-pretty lady!”

She say in a blissed out whimper. I bend down, our bodies still moving together, and took hold of her lips again. 

“ Let it go fo’ me Mo, I’m goin’ with ya’” I moan before grabbing’ her breast and placing my lips against hers again. That’s when I felt the damn break. Mo’ started to tremble underneath me her mouth opened against mine, as she let out the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard, followed by “Shhiiitt! shit, shit, shit!” 

I felt her liquid gushing from her womanhood and that quickly brought me over the edge as well. My hips stuttered against hers. She wrapped her arms around my waist and held me real tight. Our mouths sitting open against eachothers swallowing the moans, my hands tangled in her Afro. Our bodies still moved against eachothers, in a trembling slow whine as we road out our highs together until we came down.

We both lay tangled together, quietly collectin’ our breath. She broke the silence.

“Miss y/n,… I wanna do that again.”

I looked up at her and couldn’t help but giggle at the smirk against her face. I kissed her lips. 

“That was a hell of a welcome home huh Soldier Gal.”

—————————————————————————-

A/N: Y’all saw Mo dragging them big ass men y’all know she can scoop you up. Lol I hope y’all enjoyed, and don’t worry Shame pt. 5 is coming!

[valentine-cafe]

. ˚◞♡ mercenary bosses x gn reader ꒰ kinktober: gun ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 9948e rasui / reader / lisse ꒱ you're a new recruit and you catch the eyes of both of your leaders. they just so happen to find out that you have a gun kink

𖹭. content warnings◞  explicit content . penetrative sex . gun kink . oral fixation . rough sex . degradation . praise . 1.6k

𖹭. receipts◞  decided to do this in headcanons ! these two are soooo

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𖹭. a newly recruited mercenary - who knew you’d find yourself between two of your merc leaders? you’d seen the tension between them; so imagine your surprise when you were down on your knees in rasui’s office while lisse crooned down at you. an appetiser for the many - many sessions you would spend with them

𖹭. they’ve noticed the way you stare a little longer whenever they pull out a gun. either on a mission or elsewhere. you can’t help it. you’re already fatally attracted to them and now to see their pretty hands on such a weapon? so skilled and tempered? you couldn’t help but go home and hump your pillow after a particular week of aim practice around the syndicate.

𖹭. lisse has always preferred guns a bit more than rasui. you learnt that especially when she had you slotted over the barrel of her gun and grinding your clothed crotch down. all while she pressed kisses up your throat and mumbles soft praised to you

“doing so good, hmm? does it feel good, pretty petal? mhhm?”

𖹭. of course rasui joined in on the whole ordeal with his own pistol. tracing it along your most sensitive parts - while the cold metal grazed and contrasted the warm feeling of him fucking into you. while you’re partially bent over his desk and taking him like the good darling you promised to be. rasui always fucked hard. it seemed that having a loaded gun pointed at you made him even more feral. the backs of your thighs were all sore.

“hah - so she was right? my, what a lovely little kink you have. . .”

𖹭. on you knees between lisse’s legs as she sat upon her office chair. you begged to taste her. to eat her out like she deserved. instead you got your mouth fucked by her pistol instead. a hand tight on the back of your neck. and while she is careful - she certainly does enjoy the way you drool around the black steel. her head tilted to the side and that sweet, cunning smile on her pink lips. if you’re lucky she’ll grind her high heeled shoe up into your throbbing crotch. remind you that your pleasure only comes when she says so.

𖹭. she’s made you lick around the barrel. drool and salivate all over. kiss at the rim. all while you caress at her thighs and whine for her. she’d be a liar if she said that the sight was not beyond arrousing.

“choking so well on it. enjoy it mor than rasui, do you?”

𖹭. well you had that answered when rasui just so happened to enter the office after. he made sure to give you a little reminder and fucked your throat for you just right. until you were choking on his cum and whining around his cock so prettily. all while lisse watched. leaned back in her chair and looking oh so serene.

𖹭. rasui has fucked you wild from behind. bent over and whining. while lisse takes the liberty of pushing the barrel into your mouth again. so that you feel utterly helpless by the two of them. if you whine and cry enough she might replace it with herself. have you messily, sloppily eat her out while she degrades you. and while rasui makes a mess of your insides.

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