Day 12: Gun Play
A/n: Keep in mind the only cop show I watch is Brookelyn Nine Nine… also I wrote this over the timespan of about a month so there may be some inconsistencies bc I hate rereading my work but hopefully it’s still good
Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving), gunplay, improper use of guns, angst, blood, if you think I missed something let me know otherwise enjoy!
Kinktober
You’d been hunting them down forever, since you joined the force pretty much.
You wanted to make a real difference, being a woman who was a cop was already a lot for them to handle, but you were going to be the best fucking cop ever. Starting with the stars of the show -the Cowboys from Hell, a gang of rebels with a drug ring and marks on their walls, a river of bodies behind them.
When you got the job, your captain was always on your side, helping you fight your fights. He got you a great case, obviously it wasn’t yours, it was your superiors, your partners; but you were working on it day and night until they made you go home. When you started making busts, you made a name for yourself. They were recognizing you, your work. You got a promotion fast and kept working on the case as a detective.
Still, that was years of hard work. It felt like weeks, maybe just days. Years you’d been at this.
When you got another promotion, to sergeant, that’s when your crew truly celebrated. You went out to a bar for drinks, the band on stage was newer but had been making waves in the scene. You weren’t much for metal, but they were good. The lead singer was something else, and he made his attraction to you known.
When he got off stage, you’d already heard his name get yelled over the speakers, Phil Anselmo, came right over to you. “You liked that?” He asked, eyeing you shamelessly.
You swirled your drink in its glass and nodded, eyeing him right back. “It wasn’t too bad.” You said, teasing his ego.
Phil didn’t even blink at the silent attack. “You come here often? You definitely don’t, I would’ve noticed if you did.” He took the empty seat next to you. “You should come here more often, let me get a real chance with you.” That made you laugh.
“Really?” You asked. “You need a real chance with me?”
Phil smirked and scanned across the room, seeing all the identifiable cops surrounding him and his band. “Well, unless you’re gonna give me one tonight.” He looked back to you. “Looks like there’s some kind of a celebration anyway, is that for you?” He asked, almost hopeful.
You smiled proudly and nodded. “You, sir, are looking at the new sergeant of precinct 181.” You gleamed. Phil’s eyes widened, there was no way an opportunity just dropped into his lap.
He kept chatting with you, getting into your bed that night. He woke up there, too, and kept you there on your day off. You grew close in a short amount of time, and it wasn’t long before he was getting down on his knee for you, holding a bright ring up to you. Of course you said yes, and that was it, you were his and he was yours.
Now Phil stared at the unconscious cop strapped to a wooden chair in front of him, sack over their head but it didn’t hide who you were. He did everything to prevent this, at first it was just a lay, then it was the idea that getting someone in with the cops was great, now he knew when to be where, he could lead you astray and make it seem like he was helping you. Then he fell for you, but it was too late to care now. Your confidential work was finally going to get you killed when you nailed exactly where his men would be, when they’d be there.
Dimebag, Vinnie, and Rex all let him get away with it for so long, because it was working in their favour, but when they caught you at the scene they knew they couldn’t let you get away. You got caught and abducted, and he could see you quivering in place.
Though you’d been unconscious by the time they got the bag over your head, and had stayed out while you got driven and tied to a chair, drugs are a miracle in that sense, you were starting to wake up, and you knew things had gone wrong, and they were only getting worse.
Phil stood up from behind his desk and moved over to you, grabbing the bag but pausing before pulling it off, granting you a second to get used to the touch.
You wanted to be tough, coming out snarling and furious, like you had a chance at the upper-hand. When you saw Phil standing in front of you with that bag in his hand, guns in his belt, your heart dropped and your eyes filled with tears.
“Phil?” You squeaked out, staring at him with glassy eyes and a trembling lip.
Phil pushed whatever he felt for you down, replacing it with a smirk. “Sweetheart, what’re you doing here?” He asked, reaching out to cup your cheek in the palm of his hand, swiping his thumb just under your eye. “Got yourself into a real mess this time, huh?” You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. His hand was so warm against you, like all those nights he’d held you and loved you. “No way of getting out of it. No crew to back you up, no gun, your hands are tied.” You sniffled softly, he nearly cracked, he hated to see you cry.
Phil dropped to his knees, looking up at you now. “What is it, sweetheart? Can you tell me?”
You were going to die. He was right, you had no crew, no weapon, you were restrained. You were going to die by the hands of someone you loved. Even so, you loved him. You couldn’t look at him and see a killer, a monster, he was too humanized for you. He was Phil, the one who gave you the ring on your finger, who you’d spent so many nights talking through hard cases with -talking through his case with.
“You did it on purpose?” You finally managed to ask. “Made me love you so I’d tell you everything, so you’d be one step ahead of me, always?” You couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks as Phil stayed staring up at you.
“That’s not true.” He muttered, smirk falling for a moment. He stood up to be towering over you, his hand went to your head, grabbing you by your hair and tilting your head back. He smiled again. “Always loved you like this,” he mused. “Head tilted back, all teary eyed, choking on my cock.” He brought his other hand to your jaw, thumb ghosting over your bottom lip. “Wanna see you like that again, sweetheart, one last time.”
His hand left your face and he stroked himself through his shorts, getting himself hard.
He undid his shorts and pulled himself out, heavy girth hitting your cheek. “Open up for me, c’mon, you know what to do.” You hesitantly unclenched your jaw and opened wide for him, letting him slide down your throat. You gagged but forced yourself to take him, not letting him get any pleasure from hurting you, not like this.
He held your head in place, sharp breaths leaving him as he began to thrust in and out of you, cold gaze stilling on you as you took him. “Fuck, that’s good… always were good at that, love.” Your jaw twitched at that, he hissed as your teeth grazed his cock. “Watch it.” He bit.
He shouldn’t get to call you that, you thought, not when he was going to kill you, not after everything he’d done to you. He played you, and you loved him still.
Your wrists tugged at the restraints, trying to get free. Phil saw your struggle and reached behind you to get the knot. Your hands were free.
“Touch yourself, sweetheart.” He ordered, bucking his hips to get your attention back in the right place. Your jaw was starting to hurt, eyes red and puffy. Your fingers dipped into your pants, finding your thinly clothed clit and rubbing it in small circles, working yourself to the edge. “That’s it, make yourself feel good, gotta go happy, don’t ya?” Your eyes screwed shut at the harsh reminder of your eminent death.
You tried to focus on Phil’s low grunts, the way he rocked his hips into you, his hands on your head. You began to moan around him, rubbing yourself faster, your own hips grinding into your hand.
“Fuck, m’gonna cum, can you swallow it for me?” He asked, smirking. “Of course you can, you always swallow.” With a few more thrusts he came, shooting hot strings of cum down your throat.
He rocked his hips a few more times, easing his way out of your mouth, his cock already hardening again at the plans he had for you. “Did’ya cum?” He asked, kneeling in front of you. “No, you didn’t… need me to help, don’t you?” His hand went to the gun on his hip and he pulled it out of its holster. You didn’t bother fighting, but he held his free hand on your stomach to keep you in place anyway.
He held the gun, but didn’t point it at you quite yet. “Take your pants off.” He ordered, voice too sweet for the moment. You did as he asked, lifting your hips and pushing your pants down as far as you felt comfortable doing. They scrunched just past your knees. “Panties, too.” He spoke, eyes boring into yours.
You complied, pushing your panties down to meet your bunched pants. Your eyes bugged as Phil brought the gun between your legs, pushing it closer while you began to scramble. “You’re ok, you’re fine.” His voice was tender, caring, but that didn’t take away from him pushing the barrel into your pussy. “How many times were you in the field thinking of me, huh? All those hours spent at your desk when you could’ve been home with me.” He pumped it slowly in and out of you, finger staying away from the trigger to keep you somewhat calm and relaxed. “You ever think about going to the bathroom?”
“What-what are you talking about?” Your voice shook.
“At work.” He clarified, not missing the twitch when you wanted to fuck yourself on the gun. “You sit at your desk all day, trying to find the bad guys, you never needed a break from it all to think of me? You’ve got perfectly good fingers, I bet you make good work of yourself in there.” He was right, late nights when you missed him you would take a break in the bathroom, your precinct didn’t have enough women for it to be a real issue.
You bit your lip, watching your eager cunt suck the weapon in again and again. “I-I missed you.” You mumbled, not wanting to moan at such a disgusting act. “At work, I missed you… so-so many nights I wanted to be with you.” Your voice grew shaky as tears rolled down your flushed cheeks.
“That’s it,” Phil mused, coaxing softer sounds from you, “keep going, tell me how you wanted me to touch you.”
Your breath hitched, you couldn’t think of then, of how much you loved him then. “I wanted you to love me.” You choked out, hicking a breath after. “All that time you just lied and made me love you, all of it was just fake.” Phil’s expression grew firm, his hand stilling. “You made me love you!” You yelled, shoulders bouncing as a sob ripped from you.
Phil pulled the gun from you and set it on the ground, nostrils flaring in anger. “I didn’t make you do anything!” His voice was louder. Phil was bigger, as was his voice, and he wasn’t sitting defencelessly on a chair naked. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you.” He rasped, waiting for you to lift your fallen gaze. Phil lowered his voice, softening his tone. “Look at me when I love you.” You exhaled all the air in your lungs and brought your gaze to meet his, catching what you swore was the man you’d laid in bed with all those months.
Phil brought a hand up to cup your cheek, thumbing tears away again. “I didn’t fake a single fucking thing with you. When I said I love you I meant that with all that I am, I love you.” You bit your lip until it bled, holding back your sobs and screwing your eyes shut as if that was stop the stream leaving you. Your body still jolted and shook with unspoken pain. “I tried to get you to drop the case, you don’t know how hard I tried, I spoke to your fucking captain and nothing. Nothing, you just couldn’t let it go.” His expression hardened, lip curling as his brows furrowed. “But I never for a second didn’t love you.”
There was a long moment of silence where you focused everything into being a cop before it all came crumbling down and you were just scared and hurt with your boyfriend. Phil wrapped his arms tightly around you, pulling you off the chair and onto his lap. He fixed your pants and carried you around to the other side of his desk -footsteps were coming down the halls and he couldn’t let anyone see you.
Phil did his best to rock you, petting your hair and shushing your cries as the gunshots grew nearer. You had backup, far too late. “It’s ok, I’ve got you, just-just let me love you again.” His voice cracked and you looked up. Through your glassy eyes you saw his lip quiver, only slightly, and a tear roll down his cheek.
Finally the noise from the hallways broke through your mess. You opened your mouth to speak, but the door opening cut you off.
“Get up with your back turned and your hands above your head!” A booming voice came, one you recognized of course.
You tried to get up but Phil stopped you, keeping you hidden under the desk while he got up, following your captains instructions closely. It didn’t do him any good as a bang sounded and a bullet split through his back and straight to his chest, landing on the floor in front of him. Another followed, then a third, both causing blood to spurt from his stomach before he collapsed.
A scream ripped from you and you rushed to him, holding your hands over the wounds as they shook, begging for him to stay and be ok, to just keep loving you. “I-I’ll let you love me, please.” You mumble as your coworkers came to your side. “Please love me, I love you, Phil, I love you- don’t stop loving me!” You cried as they dragged you away.
Phil’s eyes followed you, he wasn’t dead yet, but he was dying. Blood gargled out of his mouth as he watched you claw at the ground until you freed yourself and ran to him again, tripping over your own two feet and falling into his pooling blood. “Love me.” You stammered. “Love me!”