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valeisaslut · 2 days ago

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Ellie fucking you with her gun…👅👅👅

loaded worship ₊ ⊹

𖥠 word count: 1.9k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

𖥠 content warnings: top!ellie x sub!reader, porn w no plot, gunplay (r!receiving, consensual, unloaded, treated as a kink object), oral fixation (licking/sucking gun), AFAB!reader, cursing, pet names, spit kink, mild choking, degradation + praise, overstimulation, power dynamics, brat taming, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

it starts, like it always does, with you mouthing off.

ellie’s at the edge of the bed, legs spread, perched in a chair that’s more throne than furniture. the window’s cracked open behind her. the clouds blur into the moonlight.

she’s cleaning her gun again—not for protection, not for purpose, but for the meditative rhythm of it. something ancient in her hands, like a priest with a chalice.

and you—bratty, barely clothed in a paper-thin tank and those sleep shorts she loathes and loves at the same time— are sprawled across the sheets, soft skin glowing under the bedside lamp.

“gonna spend more time with that thing than me tonight?”

your voice is honey-laced venom. flirtatious, syrupy, barbed. she hears the dare in it. she always does.

ellie doesn’t answer right away. she slides the barrel back into place. presses the magazine in, safety flicks on with a soft click. there’s a smile on her lips that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. the kind that says she’s deciding whether to be sweet. or cruel.

“you jealous, baby?”

that voice. low and warm and mocking, but still so tender it hurts.

“maybe.” you stretch, belly tight, spine arching in a way that’s downright pornographic. “it’s prettier than me.”

her head lifts. one eyebrow raises. her gaze cuts you in half.

“nothing’s prettier than you.”

you roll your eyes.

and that’s it. the eye-roll, the little sigh, the careless way you flop onto your back like you’re bored. like she doesn’t have her trigger finger twitching. like she doesn’t wake up every morning already wet just from the thought of shutting you up.

she sets the gun down.

softly.

like it's not the most dangerous thing in the room.

“come here.”

there’s a change in the air. you feel it like a shift in pressure. her voice is velvet-wrapped steel—low, calm, lethal. not angry, but simmering. inevitable.

“ellie,” you murmur, but you’re already moving.

“no,” she says again. “come. here.”

she’s spread out in that chair like she owns even the air you're breathing. tattooed arm draped over her thigh. pupils blown wide. the slow smirk of someone who’s been waiting all day for an excuse.

“you got a lot to say tonight,” she murmurs when you get close. “real mouthy for someone who couldn’t stop begging ten minutes ago.”

“wasn’t begging,” you whisper, breathless. fake confident.

she tilts her head. hums low in her throat.

“nah. you were whining.”

her hand curls around your wrist and tugs you into her lap. you’re not even sure how you end up there — her fingers are hot against your skin, her thigh spreads you open instinctively. she kisses you once, deep and slow, like she’s claiming her prize. then she leans back.

“take your clothes off.”

you blink.

her voice is soft, but the command in it cuts like glass.

“why?”

she smiles.

and picks the gun back up.

“ellie—”

“relax.” her voice is velvet now, coaxing, almost sweet. “you trust me?”

you nod. instantly.

“you like being a brat, huh?” she murmurs. “you like pushing me.”

your heart’s in your throat. “maybe.”

“you want me to show you who you fucking belong to?”

a shaky breath. a nod.

and when you comply, you do it slow. ceremoniously. like you’re undressing for god — or something much, much worse. your fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and panties, peeling them down your thighs with shaky grace. your breath hitches at the chill in the room, the way it grazes over your freshly bare skin. you kick them aside, standing exposed from the waist down — but ellie’s still watching. still waiting.

your hands reach for the hem of your tank. soft cotton, now clinging with sweat. you pull it up, slow enough to feel her eyes follow the motion. over your ribs, your chest, your shoulders. when it finally leaves your body, you’re stripped to nothing — and that’s when it hits.

you feel it.

the weight of her stare. like a spotlight. like heat crawling over every inch of you. ellie’s not just looking, she’s devouring. the kind of look that makes you feel like prey, like art, like her favorite sin all at once. it makes your skin burn. your pulse skip. your thighs press together on instinct, already aching.

she doesn’t speak.

she just spins the gun in her hand with the ease of long practice—as if she was born with it, the ritual of cleaning and handling the only thing that steadies her. it twirls in her palm once, twice, catching the light as it flips , and then lands barrel-down in her open hand. her thumb brushes the safety. her fingers curl around the grip.

she’s still watching you.

you’re completely bare. she’s fully clothed. legs spread, eyes dark. the contrast makes you feel tiny. and impossibly turned on.

"you look like a dream,” she murmurs, her gaze pinning you in place like a knife to the throat. there’s a smirk playing on her lips — cocky, slow-burning — but her eyes are pure fire.

she spins the gun in her hand again and lets the barrel rest on her open palm.

“spit.”

“ellie—”

“spit on it.”

she doesn’t blink. and you —shaking now, lips parted— obey.

saliva hits the black metal, slick and hot. it glides down the barrel in the most obsene, wicked way imaginable.

ellie groans, quiet. pleased.

“fuck. good girl.”

she uses her thumb to smear it in. sensual, fucking indulgent.

“turn around.”

and you do. breath hitched. you straddle her lap with your back to her chest, thighs spread wide, cunt wet and aching. every inch of you is electric.

she nudges the barrel between your legs. just a tease. the steel is cold and slippery now, coated in spit and tension.

“still think she’s prettier than you?”

“n-no.”

“you gonna behave now?”

“i’ll try.”

she laughs against your neck.

“cute. too bad i don’t want ‘try.’ i want a 'yes'.”

and then she presses the barrel inside you.

your body jolts like it’s been shocked, the cold metal punching the breath from your lungs. it’s an unnatural stretch, one you've never felt before — not wide, but so precise. so smooth. it doesn’t flex. it doesn’t give. it fills you with the weight of power, the absolute certainty that you are being claimed, not fucked. your muscles clench instinctively, helplessly. the coolness burns as it warms inside you, the safety ridge dragging ever-so-slightly against your entrance, sending jolts up your spine.

ellie’s eyes are locked on your face, watching the transformation. the way your expression flickers from shock to lust to devotion.

she pushes in deeper, not rough, just deliberate. your thighs quiver around her lap. your cunt is already dripping, coating the slick metal in heat and want.

“jesus,” you gasp, nearly choking on it.

ellie grins, her voice a dark ribbon in your ear.

“nah, baby. not him.”

she begins to move. slow, sinful thrusts. the steel slides in and out, obscene and perfect. your slick is making it glide now, every drag sending aftershocks through your belly. it’s mechanical and intimate all at once. humiliating and holy. you’re spread wide on her lap, completely open, held still by her arm wrapped tight around your waist.

“this what you wanted?” she whispers. “you like being used like this?”

you moan. “yes—”

“like my little toy? like a wet fuckin’ hole?”

“yes—yes—”

your hips are rocking now, chasing it. chasing her.

“needy thing,” she breathes. “so fucking desperate. you gonna come like this? on my gun?”

“please, ellie—please—”

she lets out a groan. fucks it into you a little deeper. her free hand wraps around your throat, pulling you upright against her chest. your head falls back and your breath breaks.

“you hear yourself?” she murmurs. “you gonna remember this next time you wanna mouth off.”

she fucks you harder, a little rough now. precise. measured. like she knows every angle of your body, built it with her calloused hands just to use it like this.

you’re shaking.

“say it,” she growls.

“i’m yours,” you sob.

“again.”

“i’m yours—i’m yours—”

and then it hits you — a high so sharp it feels like lightning cracking down your spine. your body spasms. thighs clamp, back arches, a broken sob escaping your lips as you shatter. it’s not just release — it’s surrender. full-body, soul-deep, trembling surrender. you’re crying, and you don’t even realize it. your voice breaks open in a moan that borders on a whimper, like the pleasure was too much for you to carry.

ellie doesn’t stop. she fucks you through it — slow, possessive thrusts, making you feel every inch of the steel inside you, every twitch of your cunt around it, every aftershock that ripples through your core. her mouth is hot on your neck, mouthing filth against your skin like prayers.

“that’s it, baby,” she breathes. “that’s my girl. coming on my fucking gun like you were made for it.”

your body slumps against her, boneless. still twitching. still clenching around nothing when she finally eases the barrel out of you. the drag is slow —so slow— and the loss leaves you whimpering, your cunt fluttering around emptiness, dripping with slick and spit and the remnants of your orgasm.

ellie looks down at you like she’s just unearthed a masterpiece.

“fuck,” she mutters, reverent. “look at this mess.”

your thighs are soaked. your stomach rising and falling like you’ve run for your life. your cheeks are damp, lips parted, eyes barely focused.

she slides the gun slowly along your stomach, your chest, your neck, painting your release on your skin like a signature. deliberate, crude, worshipful.

then she leans in and presses a kiss to your neck — soft, warm, tender in the aftermath.

“mine,” she murmurs.

you nod, dazed. dizzy. your body’s humming. you don’t think you could move if you tried.

and then —slow as a ritual— she lifts the gun to her mouth.

you watch, hypnotized, as her tongue parts her lips. she licks a long, filthy stripe up the length of the barrel, tasting your slick like it’s a holy thing, worshipping the altar of your body even after she’s already made you come undone. her eyes flutter shut for half a second, lashes trembling. she hums low in her throat, a sound that vibrates through your chest like a second orgasm blooming.

and then she parts her lips wider — and takes the barrel into her mouth.

your breath catches. your knees almost give out.

she doesn’t break eye contact. not once.

it slides past her tongue, slow and obscene. her lips wrap around the metal like it’s your cunt she’s sucking. she moans around it, and it’s not just a show—it��s real, messy, shameless want. her spit mixes with your slick, glistening at the corners of her mouth. the sight is nothing short of devastating. your stomach twists.

her free hand slides between your legs, presses two fingers inside you without warning.

you cry out, overstimulated, needy.

“shit.” she says around the barrel, pulling it out with a soft wet pop. “sweetest fucking thing in the world.”

she sets it aside like it’s holy. it’s much more sacred now that it’s been inside you.

then she grips your chin. firm but gentle. tilts your face back so your eyes meet hers — pupils blown, lashes damp, lips trembling.

“get on the bed. gonna fuck you for real now.”

⭒ perm taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <3): @talyaisvalslutsoldier @miajooz @andiemiaswife @mayfldss @sewithinsouls @coastalwilliams @hotpinkskitties @ssijht @pleasejoel @pariiissssssss @liddy333 @beeisscaredofbees @d1catwhisperer @the-sick-habit @elliescoquettegirl @elliewilliams-wife @yueluv3rrrr @your-eternal-muse @ellies-real-wife @katherinesmirnova @ellies-moth-to-a-flame @thxtmarvelchick @natscloset @lesbiansreverywhere @2against3 @wwefan2002 @ilahrawr @harmonib @piastorys @azteriarizz @starincarnated @natssgf @ukissmyfaceinacrowdedroom @iadorefineshyt @claudiajacobs @urmomssideh0e @kingofeyeliner @womenlover0 @ferxanda @imunpunishable @elliewilliamsloverrrrrrrr @bambi-luvs @maru0uu @mikellie @gold-dustwomxn @nramv

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ PURE. FILTH. IM SHOKED WITH MYSELF. THE PARTS OF A GUN TAB IS STARING AT ME. AND JUDGING. huge HUGE HUGE love and tysm to my gorg mootie who sent this amazing request before i even started collide—you live in my brain rent free forever bby!

i might play around with a few more fics + requests before launching the next big series i’ve been outlining (👀), so stay tuned babes. ily all dearly ♡

credits for divider: @kodaswrld <3 – images from pinterest - edited by me

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