New York is a flashy city, but underneath all of the neon is a gritty underbelly. It doesn't really try to hide it the way some cities do, and there has to be some respect for that.
It's still a bitch to be the woman trying to keep it all clean, though.
Gwen Stacy, adorned in the striking white, black, and pink of her Ghost-Spider persona (with the tiniest splash of blue for her slippers), hangs from the side of the building directly across the street from the gang fight about to break out in an alley just like a hundred others in New York City.
The difference is that, in this one, she might find the key to the turf war she's been trying to put a stop to for weeks now.
Gang wars aren't exactly uncommon in a city like this one, but this one has been especially bloody and has dragged a lot of innocent people into it needlessly. She wants to put a stop to it before it can get any worse, but the worst part of it is that, while she knows some players in this game, it's the newcomer who's swooped in and started causing trouble that has left her trying to figure out how she can wrap this up nice and neat with a pretty little bow on it before things get worse than they already are.
The shouting coming from the alley is keeping anyone who happens to be around very far away, windows and shutters closed, doors firmly locked. This is the kind of neighbourhood where if you value any kind of peace or safety, you turn a blind eye to whatever might be happening outside of your place at night, and only concern yourself with making sure you and yours don't get caught up in it.
Ghost-Spider isn't exactly known for keeping her nose in her own business.
She swings in, using the confusion of the ongoing fight to her advantage. Subduing a bunch of gangbangers who barely know how to hold a gun let alone shoot straight and seem to think a bunch of random rusty pipes they found lying around who knows where make for good weapons is easy for someone who spends most of her free time beating up people a lot more competent than they are.
It's when the last of the gang members, a scrawny kid with dreads and a frightened look in his eye as he hangs upside down webbed to the wall with his hat lying in a dirty puddle on the alley below. He's probably about the same age as she is, but that's not earning him any sympathy points; exactly the opposite, really.
"So." She clicks her tongue at him from behind her mask. She watches the Adam's apple in his throat bob as he swallows hard. It's a wonder his teeth aren't chattering from how obviously nervous he is. "Wanna tell me where I can find your boss?"
Where she can find his boss is, apparently, a half-constructed office building a few blocks away.
It's one of those places that makes for a perfect bad guy hangout; dangerous enough to keep the average person from wanting to poke their head in, and not well monitored. It's probably one of the many buildings in this area that someone started to build, abruptly ran out of money, and now it's just sitting there empty and desolate and just waiting for some super villain and his goons to take over.
This guy hasn't quite hit the level of 'super villain' yet, but considering how aggressively he's been trying to take over the local crime scene, she thinks that he's well on his way there.
Considering this guy's tactics, Gwen doesn't think that 'subtle' is going to do much good. She's also feeling cocky, running high off the small victory of having taken down all of his goons without breaking a sweat. As long as she manages to get the drop on the guy enough that he doesn't immediately gun her down, she doesn't have to worry about going through the whole ordeal of sneaking inside, doing intense reconnaissance— all of those things she would normally love to do, but right now she's running off far too little sleep, has a real bone to pick the guy in charge of this entire operation, and wants to get this dun and over with as quickly as possible with no time or care devoted to thinking too far ahead.
Swinging right in his window (identified by the fact that she can see him moving around inside), sending shattered glass flying everywhere, is the option she chooses on this particular day.
Only to be greeted with a sight she absolutely did not expect.
A kid.
He's pale, but not in a natural sort of way; his skin is an ashy white-grey, making him look like he's completely covered in Halloween makeup, but she can tell from the flickering light overhead that it's his natural skin colour. He's skinny, one might even call him scrawny, and he scrambles back away from the window as soon as she comes bursting through it.
She might think that she had the wrong room, that she had burst in on some street kid who had broken in to look for something to steal or a cool place to investigate— if not for the fact that the kid in question is wearing a suit, and arranged on the table that he had been standing in front of when she exploded through the window is a wide variety of firearms.
"So. You're Tombstone?"
She almost can't believe it, but when the kid bares his teeth at her, his surprise turning into an angry snarl, she knows she must have the right person.
"What's your boss' name?"
"Th-th-they all call 'im Tombstone! Guy just showed up outta nowhere and started ordering everyone around, had all these guns and all this money and some big plan— what were we supposed to do?!"
Gwen tilts her head, looking at the boy in front of her. Even with his teeth that look like they've been filed down into sharp points— a terrifying enough sight to see on anyone, but particularly gruesome in a kid— he doesn't look scary to her. In fact, he looks like he would snap in half if she gave him one sharp kick to the sternum, which is pretty much the only reason she hesitates.
"Get out of here, spider." The kid's voice sounds like someone who's had two packs a day for the last thirty years, or like someone who's in the worst part of a case of strep throat. She's guessing the scar on his neck has something to do with that, but that's for the juvenile detention nurses to figure out; all she's concerned about is putting a stop to his illegal activities.
"I don't think so. You've been stirring up a lot of trouble, picking fights with the gangs already set up around here— and I think it's about time a kid like you learns his lesson. It looks like mommy didn't spank you enough when you were a little boy."
The taunt goes over exactly how she thinks it will. Most criminals are dumb enough to fall for an obvious taunt, at least the kind that get involved in gang violence in New York City— the really bright ones always go for the higher forms of organized crime, unless they really like to get their hands dirty, or they're big enough nutcases to go for costumed crime.
Although with his ashen skin and pink eyes that look like a crazed animal as the kid lunges for her, alongside the colourful nickname he apparently goes by, she's thinking that maybe 'costumed' isn't entirely the wrong word to describe him.
If an adult who really should know better than to let a woman in tight spandex get under their skin with a few well-placed insults falls victim to her ruse every time, she doesn't expect a kid who clearly isn't even in his teens yet to be the one to break with tradition.
"Hey, isn't it past your bedtime? Don't you have school in the morning?"
She dodges effortlessly out of the way of the swing he takes at her, even though with twiggy arms like that, she doesn't think getting hit will hurt much. Still, no point in taking senseless risks when she's already taking enough of one just by charging in blindly like this in the first place.
He already caught her off guard just by being a kid, she doesn't need him to catch her off guard by breaking a rib or something.
"How did a wimpy-looking kid like you even manage to get a bunch of gangbangers to fall in line, anyway? I'm surprised one of them hasn't given you a whooping themselves yet."
That's right, just keep getting mad. I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears. Just keep coming after me, and I can—
Gwen goes to swing out of the way of another one of the kid's punches, but the roof beam that she lashes her web to must be just rusted enough or not bolted tightly enough to its neighbour that the tug she gives has it pulled down, crashing right through the floor instead of lifting her up and out of the way of the attack. She quickly releases her web so she doesn't get dragged down with it— she doesn't feel like falling all the way to the bottom of a twenty-story building today, no, thank you— but before she can even manage to get herself into a defensive stance to brace for the hit, Tombstone's fist collides with her stomach.
And it hurts.
It doesn't just hurt in the way that getting punched in the stomach, even accidentally, can hurt. It doesn't hurt like getting headbutted by a big dog who's just trying to show you affection hurts.
It hurts like getting punched in the stomach by a professional MMA fighter.
Gwen is used to taking blows by now— comes as part of the territory, when you're a costumed crime fighter— but it steals the breath away from her, making her cough up spittle behind her mask from the force of it, making her eyes bug out in shock. For a moment, shock is what carries her through the blow— but when the pain sets in, it sets in hard, and she can't stop herself from crumpling to her knees.
With both the pain and the breathlessness weighing her down, her reflexes are a lot slower, and she can't gather herself enough to avoid his next blow— one upside the head that makes her entire world swim around her even before she hits the ground with a dull thud.
She might have a concussion after a hit like that, but of course she has to try to force herself to her feet, ignoring the way her swimming vision makes her want to throw up. If she doesn't at least try to get to her feet—
It turns out, she might have really underestimated Tombstone. Not just in thinking he couldn't defend himself or fight back because he was a scrawny little kid— but in thinking that someone as ready to square up against every other gang in the roughest part of New York City in order to etch out territory of his own wouldn't be ready for someone to swoop in and attack.
"Aww, did I squash the pretty spider already?" Hearing such a thin, hoarse voice coming out of such a young mouth feels strange. It makes him sound almost like a ghost. Alongside the grey skin and the white hair… Not to mention the teeth filed into shark-sharp points…
She can see why he picked the name 'Tombstone'.
"Here, spider— let me give you a hand."
As if to display his effortless strength, he reaches down, as if he's planning to help her up— but the way he bunches his hand in the front of her suit comes across as anything but helpful.
So does the way that, once he has her back up on her knees— managing to stay up even if her head is swimming and her legs are trembling— he keeps pulling at the front of her outfit until she hears a sicking RIIIIIIIP.
It takes Gwen a second, with her brains scrambled, to realize that he's just ripped the chest off of her suit— leaving her tits to fall out, her nipples already starting to harden in the cool air that comes drifting through the unsealed and unfinished building.
Her first instinct is to try to cover herself up, throwing her arms across her chest. A wardrobe mishap is always embarrassing, and in front of a crime boss to boot— but a crime boss who looks young enough that she could still be babysitting him? Downright awkward, enough to cut through her sense of danger.
It's not until a moment later when the back of his fist collides with the side of her head, a backhand that makes her go flying and has her land hard on her back on the concrete several feet away— that her Spidey-Sense helpfully tells her that not only is she in danger, she's in a very different kind of danger than she normally finds herself faced with.
Turns out that being a superhero with incredible powers doesn't make her any less of a woman, and that's not just an empowering girlboss thing for her to say to herself.
It also means that she has to face the very real dangers that a lot of women have to deal with— like men who think they can just smack them around and take whatever they want from them.
And in this case, the kid doing the smacking might just be right.
Tombstone is back on top of her before she can even think about getting up and getting away, straddling her stomach. He looks so scrawny, but he seems to have no problem pinning her down, his thin legs just as effective at pinning her down as his thin arms are at beating her around.
He licks his lips— Ugh, gross, creep, is the only thing she can think coherently— as he stares down at her exposed chest. Again she wants to cover herself up, but Tombstone grabs her wrist before she can do that and slams it down against the floor, making a sharp pain reverberate up through her arm that makes her cry out.
It's not broken, thankfully— but it's very obvious that he could have broken it if he wanted to, and as much as it makes her stomach turn to even think like this, with how much her head is spinning it's definitely notsafe for her to try to fight him off in her state.
Not that Tombstone seems interested in whether she's going to try to fight him or not. He's much more interested in her tits.
With his other hand, the one not keeping her wrist pinned to the floor, the smacks her left tit— Gwen cries out in pain because even though it was an open palm slap, it still hurt, leaving a stinging red handprint on the side of her boob.
"Everyone said I should watch out for you if I was going to start messing with the gangs around here," Tombstone says in his wheezy voice. "But you're really not so tough, are you? I bet I could make you into my bitch. Then all of the criminals you've beat up in this city would have to bow down to me."
Gwen isn't sure she can follow the logic there, but she doesn't really have to, and Tombstone doesn't really care if she does, because he stands up enough to be able to reach down and grab her shoulder, flipping her over onto her stomach.
For good measure, he grabs her by the back of her hood and slams her face down into the concrete. Any semblance of clear thought that had started to come back to her flees all over again. If she were a normal human she would probably be dead by now, or at least really severely brain-damaged.
She doesn't know whether that means this kid just doesn't know his own strength, or whether he's even more messed up than she thinks he is.
Tombstone is far more interested in her body than in her thoughts, and now that he has her on her stomach, he reaches down to grab her ass. Not just so he can give it a humiliating squeeze, but so he can grab the fabric of her suit and pull again, ripping out the seat of her pants.
With so many of the seams let go from having it torn so roughly, the rest of her suit basically disintegrates into scraps, very few of them left clinging to her body. She's basically totally nude aside from a little held in place by her slippers, the last bits of her hood, and her mask— something she's thankful is separate from the suit, because all of this is already terrifying and humiliating enough without having to worry about her identity being compromised.
Not that something like that is going to do anything to make the fact that she's about to get raped by a child any better. But from the moment she had gained these freaky powers, Gwen had to deal with life just shitting on her at every given moment, just like most superheroes— and she is still here, she is still fighting.
Figuratively, of course. Because there isn't much she can do about the way Tombstone digs his fingers into her hips in order to drag them up, pulling her up to her knees even as her face stays planted on the concrete, her ass on full display for him.
He takes advantage of that by landing a harsh slap on one of her full, round cheeks, leaving her with a matching stinging red handprint to the one he had given her tits. Again Gwen cries out, feeling ashamed of herself not only for letting a villain get the best of her— a villain that's half her size and probably about half her age, too, and she's young— but for letting it show, for not withholding her cries of pain and not showing him that he's getting the better of her.
It's hard to do that with this kind of violence, though. Gwen is a superhero, but she's grown up hearing the same horror stories every girl her age has, especially considering her father is a police officer. He's told her all kinds of crazy stories trying to get her to understand why she shouldn't dress like a slut, or why she shouldn't get into cars with strange boys, no matter how hot they are. Best case scenario, she ends up pregnant, worst case scenario, she ends up raped, beaten to death, and thrown into a dumpster somewhere.
Very much the kind of education you want to be dealing with growing up, as a young woman just starting to get interested in boys and dating.
Now she can see that her dad wasn't exactly exaggerating— although her getting beaten around by a kid with supernatural strength and then having her vigilante superhero costume ripped off of her so he can fuck her is probably not what he was imagining when he was warning her about the dangers of sex.
Gwen tries her best, one last time, to get away. When she hears the zipper on Tombstone's pants be pulled down, she summons all of her considerable superhuman strength to try to fight against what she's pretty sure is definitely a concussion, trying to force herself to crawl away. If she can just summon up enough strength to start slinging webs, there's enough lying around that she probably has a good chance of grabbing something she can nail him with—
As soon as she manages to pull herself a few inches across the floor, she hears a gun cock behind her.
"Don't even think about it," that strange voice hisses as she feels one hot hand grab her ass and squeeze, and the cold metal of a gun press against her spine. "You're going to stay right there and take it, Spider-Bitch— and maybe then you'll think twice about messing with Tombstone again."
Fuck, she would love to make fun of how ridiculous he sounds when trying to sound all tough with a voice that sounds like he came out of his mother's womb smoking like a chimney and then someone punched him in the throat, but it's hard to make fun of anyone who's got a gun to you and is threatening to kill you— or at least paralyze you in the most painful and humiliating way possible.
So Gwen just… Freezes. She's not proud of the involuntary whimper she lets out, but there's a reason it's involuntary.
When she feels the cold metal disappear, she almost breathes a sigh of relief— but it would have been counting her chickens before they hatch, because she immediately feels something hot press against her.
Although she knew she was about to be raped, the fact that Tombstone is just a kid had made Gwen assume that whatever he was packing was going to be small. Sure, still terrifying and shameful, but there's a difference between terrifying and shameful, and terrifying, shameful, and painful, and she's already in enough pain as it is.
But from the size of the head of the cock pressing up against her, she knows that this was just one more way she totally underestimated this kid— and she swallows hard as she realizes she's really about to pay for that.
Tombstone starts to press inside. Gwen holds her breath. Fuck, he is big— big enough to more than rival all of the toys she's ever had inside of her, because all of her dad's warnings had gone maybe too much to heart and she's still technically a virgin, if glass and silicone and blowing a guy she met in a bar while she was playing a gig with her band in a gross alley didn't count.
She wanted her first time to be special, not with some freaky kid who has her at his mercy because she couldn't think straight enough to stop and analyze the situation a little more before charging in.
She made her bed, and now here she is, most definitely lying in it as Tombstone's fingers dig hard enough into the meat of her ass to definitely leave bruises and he seems to get tired of trying to get inside of her slowly— and instead thrusts into her all at once.
Gwen feels like all of her breath has been punched out of her; his cock is so fucking big that not only does it feel like it's ripping her apart from the inside, but it also makes her feel like it's pushed all the way up through her body to jab at the bottom of her lungs and squeeze all of the breath right out of her.
It fucking hurts.
Tombstone obviously doesn't care that it hurts, and instead seems to be having a great time with the wheezy noise of pain she lets out. He levels another hard slap against her ass, in a different place this time, and all of the bruises she's going to have at the end of the night are going to make it hard for her to sit down in the morning, not to mention how hard it's going to be to walk after this monster splits her in two with his cock.
"How do you like that?" he asks her as he leans over her. His other hand— he's either shoved the gun somewhere or dropped it, not that Gwen heard it fall, otherwise she would be fighting to get out of his grasp— snakes under her body so he can grab her breast, squeezing that hard enough to hurt and make her whimper breathlessly. "Your ass jiggles when I hit it. Never though this city's big hero would have such a juicy ass."
Ugh, I know I've been eating like shit lately, but hearing it coming from a kid like this… That's notwhere her mind should be going right now, but it's easier to think about than the fact that Tombstone just shoved into her raw, and he's pounding into her like he's made it his life mission to stretch her pussy out so much that his massive cock is the only one that will ever really fit in it ever again.
"Fuck just making you my bitch… I bet I can make you my woman. You just love my cock, don't you?"
"Wh-who would ever— Ah!" Gwen wishes she didn't cry out just then, and wishes it sounded more like pain than pleasure, but that's the moment Tombstone angles himself just right to hit that spot inside of her that has her gushing like a waterfall and has her pussy clenching around him, now hungry for more and unwilling to let him go until she gets it— whether shelikes it or not.
"Yeah, just like that. Fuck, you're really gonna cum that easily? I don't know why everyone else in this city thinks you're hard to defeat. One dick in you and you're purring like a kitten."
Gwen wants to lash out and kick him just because he said something like that, but the hand squeezing her tit squeezes it even harder, and she feels like if she speaks out of turn this kid would have no issues crushing it— or any other part of her.
The worst part is?
Now that the pain of suddenly being split apart by something so huge is starting to fade, her body not only getting used to it but her superhuman durability able to make her withstand a lot more than the average woman, it is starting to feel good.
She thinks that's probably an accident, that this kid is way more interested in making himself feel good and anything else is purely a coincidence, but the angle he's fucking her at, the speed, the feeling of a hot, hard, totally raw cock inside of her—
It's obvious now why so many of the girls in her dad's stories always ended up so miserable, even dead, because of sex. It's because it feels so fucking good that they must just lose all of their ability to think straight because of it, even when there's obviously danger in the air.
Gwen feels Tombstone's cock twitch hard inside of her, and she hears him curse above her, a string of words that would make even someone who's lived in New York all their lives blush— and before she can even think about what that might mean, she feels something hot flooding into her, filling her up.
By the time she processes that Tombstone just came inside of her, he's already pulling out, leaving his cum dripping out of her pussy and making a mess on the floor alongside her own juices.
Gwen lets out a pathetic sounding noise, trying to angle her face into the concrete to muffle it, because she knows she can't resist the urge to make anynoises at this point. Fuck, she had just started to enjoy herself— the one silver lining in this bullshit— and the kid went and came before she could even get off. Where was the fairness in that? It's not like he was even trying to hurt her this time! At least then she could just be angry at that!
Her mind throws the debate back and forth between whether to chew him out for leaving her wanting— the option her pussy obviously wants to take— and keeping her mouth shut as she looks for a chance to escape— the option her mind knows that she shouldtake. But ever full of surprises, Tombstone takes her by one again as she feels the head of his cock pressing up against her again.
Only this time, it's the wrong hole.
"Wait, fuck, don't—" Gwen flails one hand behind her as if that's going to make any difference, as if that's going to keep this guy from doing whatever the hell he wants to do to her and then laughing about it afterwards. In fact, he's already laughing now as he pushes his cock into her ass— something she has no experience with beyond a few of her own exploratory fingers, because although she's thought a few times about working those sex toys she keeps hidden under her bed into her ass, she's always chickened out at the last second. After all, it has to just be porn that says it feels good to get fucked in the ass, right? Girls only do that stuff to make boys like them more, and then the rest of the girls call them sluts for doing something like anal just to make the boys want to fuck them?
Already lubed up by his cum and her juices, Tombstone's cock forces its way into her tightly furled hole more easily than either of them would have expected— but it's still dry and still a stretch, and Gwen fingers herself biting her lower lip to hold back any noises of pain as her brain starts to clear a little more, clouded now mostly by the unfulfilled pleasure her pussy is still throbbing with.
"You're tight," Tombstone groans, and Gwen groans too, her entire body shaking. There's no way she can take a cock that big in her ass with absolutely no preparation without something tearing— and yet, in spite of the fact that it hurts, the fact that she's still desperate to cum has her body translating that pain into even more pleasure, to the point that she can feel herself drooling behind her mask.
She doesn't even have the energy or the presence of mind to make some snarky comment about how of course it would be tight if he wasn't even going to fucking bother preparing her at all— it probably wouldn't be a good idea anyway, pissing off the guy that has her helpless on the floor with his cock in her ass and a whole pile of guns close at hand, but being in danger has never stopped Ghost-Spider from being quippy before.
Turns out the only thing that can do that is to activate her latent hidden sex drive. Who would have thought?
If she thought she would be able to do it without just completely toppling over, Gwen would try to reach a hand under herself to rub at her aching, throbbing clit— although having her ass fucked feels so much better than she ever thought it would be (and she knows that she's going to be well over that hesitancy of hers when she gets back home to the warmth and comfort of her room, because if it feels this good when she's being raped on the cold concrete floor of a derelict half-built office building, how good is it going to feel when she's in her own comfortable bed?), she doesn't have that direct stimulation anymore, and it leaves her frustrated building up so fucking slowly to that edge that she thinks she's going to die before she actually gets to cum.
Maybe literally, since she has no idea what Tombstone plans to do with her when he's finished— although the way he's talking makes it sound more like he'd like to keep her than just kill her and get rid of her, which makes her a little more hopeful about her chances for escaping.
Not that she's thinking about escaping right now. No, right now the only thing she can think about is how wet she is, her thighs totally and completely soaked as her cunt throbs hard, missing being filled by Tombstone's massive cock even as he drives himself into her ass so hard she can feel her face being scraped by the concrete floor even through the mask as he pushes her up along it.
As much as she wants him back inside of her pussy, though— it seems like her body is enjoying having her ass split apart, too, because that slow build is still enough to push her up and up and up, that warm feeling in the pit of her stomach leaving her whining and squirming, pushing her hips back against his cock instinctively to try to get more.
More what, she has no idea, but she just wants more.
"You're a real slut. I bet everyone in this city would stop treating you like you're hot shit if they knew what you were really like. Or maybe they would all be lining up to get a chance to fuck you themselves."
Fuck, she knows all of this is just meant to torment her, but with her brain in that space where all it cares about is sex and pleasure, the idea of the people she risks her live saving every day lining up to get a chance to shove their cocks into her one after another—
Gwen moans, and she doesn't even realize just how close she got to that edge until all of a sudden she feels herself falling over it.
She lets out a scream, one that she's sure would have most people calling the cops just from how loud it is, but in this neighbourhood is just one more thing to ignore the sound of in the night. She clamps down hard on the cock in her ass, her pussy clenching even harder as she makes even more of a mess of herself, shaking and shuddering through the most powerful orgasm that she's ever had in her life.
Tombstone lets out another creative string of curses as she feels something hot flooding into her, a stinging pain left in its wake because she's no doubt chafed up and raw on the inside, but she doesn't even give a shit about that right now. Her ears are actually ringing, and whether that's from the lingering effects of having her head beaten around and then smashed into a concrete floor or whether she just came that hard in spite of not having anything in her cunt or any stimulation at all to her clit, she has no idea.
It doesn't seem to matter to Tombstone either way, who pulls out of her ass with a wet sounding POP as Gwen feels his cum— still thick and plentiful in spite of the fact that it was his second orgasm of the night— immediately gush out of her abused ass and down her thighs, joining with her juices to make an unsavoury sort of puddle on the floor between her knees.
Gwen's brain has decided to do a full reboot, lost in that post-coital cloud as she struggles to process anything but how much she feels like one giant overcooked noddle, but she does know that noodles aren't very good at keeping themselves upright and she has no idea how much longer she's going to be able to stay up on her knees.
Tombstone seems to have an answer for that, because he sticks his foot out and kicks her in the side— not hard enough for it to actually be meant to hurt her, surprisingly, but just enough to knock her over, making her land with an 'off' on her side.
He uses his foot to roll her fully onto her back. The world is spinning a little from the sudden motion as she stares up at the bare beams and rafters, but Tombstone decides to be the centre of her vision anyway, leaning over her to show off those sharp teeth of his again.
"Don't go passing out on me yet, pretty spider," he practically coos at her, a weird sounding tone coming from that scratchy voice. "Not that it makes much of a difference if you do— we're still gonna have a lot of fun tonight."
Gwen manages to look down, even though it might be one of the hardest things she's ever had to do, and this is coming from a woman who let her own best friend die once.
Tombstone, even after cumming twice— the evidence of which is leaking steadily out of her and making her feel like an overstuffed donut— is still hard.
She always heard that the younger the guy, the faster he would be ready to go again, but this seems a little ridiculous.
He grabs her by both of her knees and folds them up towards her chest as he spreads them apart, taking advantage of her ample flexibility. With her holes fully exposed to him— an embarrassing thought even though he just absolutely wrecked both of them— he crawls in between her legs and lets his hard cock fall against her pussy, giving her a show of exactly what kind of monster just went inside of her.
It's obvious that he's nowhere near done with her yet— and although Gwen knows that she should be terrified (and there's a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach telling her that she's a twisted and reprehensible individual for finding any of this arousing, for getting off on being raped on the floor by a kid), she can't help the way her heart beats faster at that.
Or the way her sensitive pussy clenches, making her wince.
Gwen has absolutely no intentions of becoming this kid's bitch or his woman, like he was boasting about before… But there's no denying it.
He's definitely awoken something inside of her.
And as he lines himself up with her pussy again, ready to give her a third round of a vicious pounding…
She wonders just how deep she's already gotten herself.
"Get up."
Gwen can barely understand the command with how hard her head is swimming, but even though her body feels so sensitive and loose, even though she's actually lost count of how many times Tombstone has fucked her (leaving her with a noticeable bulge in her stomach from how much of his cum he's pumped into her, which she thought was something that was only possible in porn— maybe whatever has made this scrawny kid into such a vicious fighter has also given him superhuman semen, or something equally crazy), she still finds herself instinctively following the commands.
Potentially in part because Tombstone grabs her hair through her hood when he says it— and she doesn't want him ripping her hair right out of her scalp orpulling her hood off to reveal her identity.
Most people wouldn't know her from Adam, of course, but a superhero's secret identity is precious. And the last thing she needs is it falling into the hands of a terrifying monster like the kid in front of her.
Gwen forces herself up onto her knees, although she has to use her hands planted on the floor to keep her balance. Her entire lower half feels like she's just been through the worst hellish training exercise in all of existence, and this is coming from a ballerina, so she knows a thing or two about hellish training.
Tombstone lets up his grip on her hair, but he doesstart to tug her mask up— and although it leaves her wobbling, Gwen instinctively reaches up to grab it and pull it back down.
Tombstone considers her for a second with his head tilted— and then slaps her so hard across the face her vision dances.
"You really think you're in a position to call the shots right now, bitch? Read the room," he mutters, almost like she wasn't supposed to hear him, but she gets the message clearly enough.
Thankfully, Tombstone's interest doesn't seem to be in seeing her face under her mask, but rather in pulling it up far enough to expose her mouth. He leaves it bunched up just over her nose.
Small mercies, she supposes— but that mercy only goes so far as keeping her identity hidden, because as Tombstone shoves his cock further into her face, it's painfully obvious what he wants from her.
Covered in his own cum and her juices, and having been in both of her holes multiple times now, Gwen does not especially want to suck his cock. But Tombstone doesn't give her much of a choice— he grabs her hair again, tightly, and when she opens her mouth to let out an involuntary gasp he immediately shoves his cock inside.
Gwen lets out muffled noises of mild distress from the way her mouth is forced to stretch around his cock until her jaw hurts, but compared to most of the pain she's had to endure tonight, it's entirely bearable. In fact, with her brain still feeling distant and cottony— from a mixture of the head trauma and the fact that she's been made to cum so many times she doesn't think she's even going to be able to walk tomorrow— it almost seems easier to just lean into it.
Which is how she finds herself bobbing her head forward to take more of his cock, at the same time he thrusts into her mouth.
It doesn't surprise her at all that there's absolutely no waiting, that Tombstone has no interest in easing her into it. She's going to take all of his cock into her mouth and down her throat whether she likes it or not, and if she suffocates on it, it's not his problem; he's just done the criminal underground of New York City a favour, right?
The taste and smell of it is overpowering. In any other headspace, Gwen would probably say both were disgusting— but right now the smell goes straight from her nose to her brain and it's such a pervasive smell of sex that even though she's pretty sure she couldn't cum again even if she wanted to (her clit feels like it's on fire), she's left squirming there over the masculine and dominating smell and the feeling of his thick cock being shoved down her throat until it's raw.
She's probably going to end up talking like him tomorrow, after all of this.
His balls slap against her chin as he fucks into her mouth, and even though it would be easier for her to just sit back and let him do whatever he wants to her, she can't stop her instinctive need to push forward, to swallow around his cock. This is the only real experience she has when it comes to sex, and maybe she's trying to show off a little, although she has no idea why she would ever want to show off for a guy like this.
Tombstone growls, but it's not an angry growl; it's something primal from deep in his chest as both of his hands land on her head and he starts fucking into her mouth so hard that it feels like he's going to break her nose, her face an absolute mess as saliva slops out the side of her overstretched mouth, and snot and tears run freely.
When Tombstone cries out to the bare ceiling and she feels something hot running down her throat, she thinks that's the end of it— but just like all of his other orgasms so far, there's so much cum that even as he starts to pull out of her throat, he hasn't stoppedcumming, allowing him to jerk himself off onto her face and leave thick strips of white across her lips and her nose.
At least she doesn't have to worry about any of it getting into her eyes, although now she's going to have to deal with the very awkward question of how one gets cum stains out of their superhero mask.
"Fuck… If I had known you were going to be such a good lay, I would have had my boys bring you in a lot sooner…"
Gwen is sitting there on the floor caught up in a haze of pleasure and mild medical distress, but that statement manages to cut right through all of that, bringing her back to a sudden clarity.
This was all a trap. That fight in the alley was meant to lure me in and this guy was planning this all along!
That thought alone gives her a sudden burst of energy, and Tombstone seems to have finally worn himself out, so confident in the fact that he has her broken and docile that he isn't paying attention to her— but just like she underestimated him at the start of all of this (and still seems to be underestimating him, it seems, having no idea he was smart enough to pull a trap like that off without her suspecting a thing), he's underestimating her now.
Which is why, with the burst of adrenaline she gets from realizing she's been duped, she's able to swing her leg out in spite of how exhausted she is and catch him by the ankles— and even though he's strong, he doesn't seem to have any better balance than the average pre-teen, so an ankle sweep takes him out easily.
Before he can have a chance to recover and realize what's happened, she jumps on him, hauling him up by the front of his shirt and throwing him towards the wall. As soon as he collides with it, she shoots out a web to stick him to it, leaving him attached and dangling a few feet in the air so he can't get the leverage to rip his way out of it.
If he's really as clever as he seems to think he is, then he's probably going to get loose before she has the chance to alert the police— especially because she's naked now except for her slippers and her mask, which she tugs back down into place.
As soon as he realizes what's happened, Tombstone curses a blue streak at her as she jogs towards the window with no glass. It's only her own instinct to be smug that has her turning back towards him.
"You know how to show a girl a good time, Tombstone— I'll give you that," she says, because it's not like she can deny how much she enjoyed it when he had her cumming so much she couldn't see straight by the end of it. "But you're going to have to work a little harder than that if you want to make me your woman. See you around… If you don't end up in juvie first."
Gwen dives dramatically out the window, but in her mind, she's trying to think of the best way she can take to get home without half of New York seeing Ghost-Spider's nude body.
And also trying not to think about how much that idea turns her on.