#ghoul grooming

[ratsummer]

Shhhhh shhhhhh I'm getting carried away here, but...

Y'all ever think about Phantom being unphased by griminess when he's first summoned?

Or maybe not unphased, but he just doesn't make cleanliness a priority. Like this guy has been roaming the circles as best he can on his own, more concerned with finding food and shelter and the reluctant ally here and there than with personal hygiene.

Summoning as a general rule isn't a very tidy affair, so no one really notices that first day. Omega and Aether give him the typical, cursory wipedown to remove the worst of the summoning... goo... before bundling him up in soft, loose, flowy robes while his skin is still sensitive. And of course, when they show him where his room his, they introduce him to the baths and let him know he has the rest of the day to clean up and settle in.

Well, morning rolls around and Dew arrives to the breakfast table, ushering a very sleepy little quint along in front of him. Cirrus scolds him for so obviously waking him up before he was ready, but Phantom insists it's okay, please, I asked him to make sure I was awake for breakfast! Don't get angry at him!

And while Phantom explains that Dew stayed up late with him to help him find and organize snacks in his room, Cumulus comes to the table, yawning wide and clutching Aether's arm. She was so excited to greet Phantom and Aurora at their summonings, hugging them tight (despite the goo) and welcoming them into the fold. She's just as excited to see them at breakfast, purring and pressing a kiss into Aurora's hair first before shuffling over to do the same for Phantom.

He can't help but flinch a little as she approaches. Old habits die hard, and he immediately rushes to apologize when she stops in her tracks and frowns. But Cumulus is used to skittish ghouls - she typically accepts boundaries gracefully. No, what's caught her off guard is-

"Phantom, sweetheart, didn't Aether show you how the bath works?" Cumulus' voice is soft and warm, but she's got Aether pinned with a disappointed glare.

Phantom curls in on himself a little, squirming and wrapping his tail around his fingers. "He did... why?"

"Little bat, you've still got... goo... clumped in your hair. That can't feel very good."

And while Phantom is squirming and explaining himself, that he was focusing on getting used to his room, Cumulus starts looking him over more carefully.

She notices his claws, broken and jagged in some spots, dirt and goo clumped around them. Little scrapes, scratches, and bruises littering what little bit of his bare skin is exposed. Hair dry and frizzed up, with tangles and knots all around the base of his horns. And his horns... dried out, brittle, chunks missing near the ends.

Well, Cirrus doesn't call her Fussy Lussy for nothing.

"Oh darling, it's okay you didn't have time last night. I'll tell you what, I was going to have a little spa day today, I've got so many new things I want to try out. How about you come along with me and I'll help you figure out all the knobs in the tub and you can try out some of my soaps!"

Phantom looks a little wary and unsure as Cumulus extends her offer, maybe trying to figure out how to say no, until Aurora gasps and starts kicking her feet excitedly.

"Oh! Phantom! Cumulus helped me wash my hair last night and her soaps smell soooooo good! You're gonna love it!"

So, that's how Phantom ends up reclined neck-deep in deliciously warm bathwater not an hour later.

Cumulus is humming quietly, sitting next to him and lighting all the candles she lined up along the edge of the tub. "These candles are always here," she explains, "And the matches live in that jar tucked over there, so you can use these anytime you want if you like them, alright?"

Phantom just hums a little to let her know he's at least kind of listening. He rubs his toes through a little pile of what Cumulus called epsom salts, enjoying the way the grains crunch and swirl around his feet as they slowly dissolve. He can't remember being so comfortably warm and relaxed, maybe ever.

"Alright, sugar, I've got so many good things to try out. Are you ready?"

Phantom loses track of time quickly, but it must be hours that they soak together. Cumulus grooms him meticulously, and it stirs up achingly precious, half-lit memories from his kit days, when he still had his parents to look after him.

She scrubs his hair thoroughly with a sweet, sudsy shampoo. Her claws scratch deliciously over his scalp, sending goosebumps down his back. She works something called conditioner in next, using her fingers and a comb to tug and tease all the knots out of his hair. Not once does she pull hard enough to hurt.

She rubs a creamy, buttery substance between her palms until it melts into a sweet-scented oil. She massages it over his horns, cooing about how it's adding so much depth to their night-blue color. His claws are next, and Cumulus patiently explains what each of her little tools is for as she goes about trimming, filing, and oiling each one. She even rubs a cream into what she tells him are his cuticles, apparently to soften them or something.

She uses the softest cloth he's ever felt in his whole life ever to wash him thoroughly with a mouth-wateringly scented soap. She's thorough, getting behind his ears and between his toes. While she washes him, she tells him they should talk to Rain later about trimming up his hair so it doesn't fall in his eyes so much. She checks in with him constantly, asking if he's still okay with her washing him or if he'd like to take over.

Once they're out and dry, she helps him put on a creamy lotion before handing him big, soft clothes to pull on. She helps him roll the sleeves and cuff the pants, having stolen them from Swiss.

"He won't miss them, sweetie. That ghoul has the comfiest loungewear and he's always happy to share."

Cumulus insists that the most important part of their spa day is to immediately crawl into her nest to snack, snooze, and watch movies. It's called beauty rest for a reason, Phantom!

It's with a full belly and a clean, relaxed body that Phantom snuggles down under Cumulus' fresh, soft blankets and promptly passes out. It's the deepest, most restorative sleep he's had in ages.

And while he sleeps, Cumulus pets his hair, rubs his back, and generally fusses over whether the blankets are covering him properly. Her entire heart has totally melted for this sweet ghoul who's seen too much hardship, and she vows to make him the most rotten, spoiled little brat the ministry has ever seen.

[tg-headcanons]

(The target audience is just me but-) Tokyo ghoul characters as official notes about the dogs at my workplace

Kaneki: will not eat unless fed by hand. Eats only wet food. Good luck

Seidou: does not understand how small and easy to step on he is

Hide: injured from wagging tail too hard

Shuu: Socially idiotic

Yoshimura: Old. I don’t know how she’s still alive

Akira: will herd other dogs and also you

Juuzou: Meat farm rescue

Nishiki: HATES MEN

Furuta: hates women

Houji: can only be in groups with females. Gay and unmanageable

Rize: goes out of his way to bite men

Naki: cries constantly

Urie: can climb all fences and wants to leave

Uta: no longer welcome here

[golden-rats]

We established Dew is just a kitty, right? Now imagine

Swiss: *Sitting on the sofa, just minding his business relaxing*

Dew: *Enters the room and sneaks onto the other side of the sofa, sitting down*

Swiss: *Glances over and acknowledges his presence, continues to scroll on his phone*

Dew: *Shifting in his position, fixating Swiss with his eyes*

Swiss: "Can I... Help you?"

Dew: *Starts the butt swivel*

Swiss: "Oh no no n-" *Tries to scramble away*

Rain: *Enters the room and almost gets hit with Swiss phone that flies through the air as Dew full on leaps onto him*

[rinzdets]

the ghoul isn't even that monster-looking yk 🙄

like, if you think about it they just gave him yellow teeth. and somewhat wrinkled skin. that's all. uh yes, they also took a small piece of his nose! omg he's sooo scary 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱

[repconnaerospace]

since i'm here and i'm thinking about it, here me out okay. i want arthur broken. i want the brotherhood decimated and him managing to survive, stuck in the commonwealth with everything he's been told his whole life is his birthright going down the like the hindenberg.

i want this, because i want to see if he will double down on the brotherhood's line of quasi-religious bullshit, or if he can still grow and change as a person, because despite, he's still a twenty-two year old kid. a kid that's been shoved into a position of power, yeah, and one with accomplishments under his belt, absolutely, but...still a kid.

[blood-driven]

@the-ghoul-remains​ when your local cookie is a airheaded menace, he needs a LICK

[homunculus-argument]

You know what? Dating is a numbers game. Not being rude, being well-groomed and dressed up nicely and being considerate of people is one thing, but you're just wasting your time if you go on dates trying to act normal. What you should be doing is going on 1000 dates with different people, put all your weird shit on display, and then pick the one who isn't repulsed by it. If they're repulsed by what you're into from the start, you're never going to be able to truly be comfortably yourself around them.

Don't stress about being 'too weird'. If you're genuinely just being yourself, that's just the limit of how much Your Particular Sort Of Weird Shit someone that's going to be a potential life partner will just need to tolerate, or even embrace. That might sound like some dumbass toxic entitled dramaqueen shit but trust me: You're absolutely 100% better off alone than with someone who's uncomfortable with the way you are when you're comfortable. And so are they. Like yeah, relationships require work and compromises and meeting someone halfway, but you shouldn't have to compromise who you are in order to be with someone.

Your personality is there to keep the kind of people that you don't want in your house, out of your house. Go out with seven different girls and send all of them some weird fucking meme of two humanoid ghouls eating a dead deer with some text like "this could be us but you won't go to the carcass with me :(" and pick the one who still wants to talk with you after that. And perhaps even inquires whether there actually is a deer carcass. Does it still have all the teeth. Because if there's actually a carcass and it still has all the teeth, she wants them. She has plans that need deer teeth.

[cupid-ghoul]

ghouls have fur and toe beans

that means they probably clean the spaces in between their toes like cats do

ghouls groom themselves and each other to bond and for comfort

that means there will be hair balls

can you imagine you're a sibling sneaking through the ministry at night and hear the typical cat hacking sound only to see swiss on all fours on the ground, his body doing the 🦗🦟🦗🦟🦗 , dry heaving and hurling up a huge hair ball

after that he just scurries off and you're left in the dark hallway with a hairball the size of a golf ball

[mytokyodebunker]

Asking The Ghouls To Do Your Hair

Frostheim

Jin Kamurai

Jin… Doesn't know. Probably hands it off to Tohma- I'm just joking…UNLESS-. He's actually pretty caring of others so he might learn one or two different braids but that's it. He seems like he's probably good at putting your hair in a clip or a bun but nothing else.

Tohma Ishibashi

Tohma…..He would be good at it probably. If not, then surprise!!! He is now. He's used to taking care of Jin anyways, adding hairstyles or braiding to that list wouldn't be that bad.

Kaito Fuji

Kaito would absolutely love to do it but he would probably be bad at it. He's SCREAMING at the fact that he's touching your hair with your permission, extremely happy the entire time. Might be confused during the process but he's not complaining at all.

Lucas 'Luca' Errant

He doesn’t know but won't give up until he knows every hairstyle humanly possible. Every time he asks you with earnest eyes to let him practice again, and every hairstyle is more elaborate than the last. The process is always long and painful on your scalp, but the end result never disappoints!

Vagastrom

Alan Mido

Our young grandpa himbo. We all know he wouldn't know how and he would rather not accidentally hurt you in any way, even if you flinch at the slightest tug, he'll stop immediately.

Leo Kurosagi

Leo knows different hair styles, but doesn't know how to execute it. He knows what's trending and what looks good on a person. Little bastard wouldn't give the advice until you mess up though.

Shohei 'Sho' Haizono

He wouldn't know until he get comfortable with your hair and he'll pick up on it after awhile. The type to learn quickly. Alternatively, he does Leo's hair when Leo makes him do it, and he always does a good job. Very gentle.

He also strikes me as Leo's unwilling makeup artist and lighting/photoshoot assistant so you know that he has some sort of experience.

Jabberwock

Haru Sagara

He's the best person to ask if you want someone to brush your hair nicely (and quickly), since he's the one who grooms all the animals at Jabberwock. Can't do much else to your hair - maybe add a bow? Would still somehow injure himself in the process though.

Towa Otonashi

Surprisingly good at hair. Would probably also put flowers in it too while he's doing it. Sunny sunny day the entire time....may or may not eat the flowers while it's in your hair. He knows One (1) style and proceeds to make everyone he can get his hands on look like a fairy princess. There's no choice.

Ren Shiranami

Doesn't know. Doesn't WANT to know. Frankly, he is offended you asked him. He hasn't touched a comb in ages, his hair is short enough and it'll get messed up again anyway.

If anything, you would be combing his hair. But be warned, he will loudly complain whenever you get the comb caught on a tangle.

Sinostra

Taiga Hoshibami

Taiga….Nope. He will pull and tug on your hair. Forget anything about braiding or any hair styles, he'll fuck up your hair worse than you ever could. Taiga would rip your hair out or else cut the tangles out with scissors if you ever asked.

Romeo Lucci

He had strong opinions about your hair (and the rest of your look) from the start, so if you let him he'll give you a full makeover.

he'll know what your face shape needs and wash & style your hair nicely, then complain that your skin is crap and give you a facial and apply your makeup, then put you in a better outfit so that your shitty clothes don't ruin his hard work. Then make you work the casino floor because his services don't come for free and no he won't pay you. Do you have any idea how much the perfume you're wearing costs?

Ritsu Shinjo

Doesn't know. Could learn. Will he though? Probably not, it's nothing he needs to be a lawyer. If you insist, then he proceeds to over-gel your hair while you die inside. Later, he'll genuinely ask why you haven't asked him a second time.

Hotarubi

Subaru Kagami

Subaru would say he doesn’t know anything about hair but if you insist then maybe he'll just brush it out for you, but secretly he probably knows all of the theatre hairstyles for kabuki. He prefers leaving your hair loose though.

Haku Kusanagi

He can, and is ridiculously smooth at it too. No head pain, can tell if you've got a sensitive scalp, knows all of the staple styles - ponytail, bun, braid. It's strangely therapeutic to get your hair done by him, like spending time with a big sibling.

Zenji Kotodama

Zenji would make some rendition of maiko and geisha hairstyles but with his own spin on it, but it will take hours and your scalp will be screaming at you and he won't shut up all through the process. He would spout off poetry while at it. Might sing too. If you don't like his voice, too bad he's doing it every time he does your hair if he gets the chance.

Mortkranken

Yuri Isami

He insists that he, a genius doctor, is adept at everything that requires dexterity, but he refuses to spend his incredibly precious time braiding your hair. Suggest he's not actually that good, and he'll change tune. He'll sit you down and plait your hair with perfect surgical precision (ha), then demand endless praise and fawning.

Jiro Kirisaki

Doesn’t know. Probably hasn't used a comb before. He could learn, but that's so much effort. Thinks it'd be easier for both of you if you just cut it all off.

Obscuary

Rui Mizuki

Rui won't touch your hair, because he's worried about his curse, but he'd notice right away when you change your hair. He'll happily compliment it, and might suggest hairstyles he'd love to see you wear in the future.

[acapelladitty]

NSFW Alphabet: Cooper Howard

Summary: A full NSFW alphabet for Cooper Howard/The Ghoul from Fallout (2024).

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Pretends that he's not needing anything after sex but actually loves it when his partner wraps themselves around him like a second skin. Won't ever admit to it, but the way his arm snakes around to pull them even closer is hint enough to his real desires.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Likes his hands because they're quick and dexterous, and can justbas easily gut a gulper as they can seek out and tease a clit. Not much pride in his own appearance aside from that. He's also a tit man and the pillowy softness of them is so opposed to his own body that he only enjoys them more, usually with his mouth as much as his hands.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Sterile as all fuck, he can do what he wants with his cum and it makes no difference. Enjoys the taste and likes oral because of it. He does love for his partner to hold onto his cum though, either by swallowing or by pushing it back up their holes with his fingers. They earned it so they're going to keep it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has experimented with his new abilities as a Ghoul in some interesting and intense ways. Usually pushing the edge of pleasure and pain as he tests his own limits. His leathered skin is less sensitive than most so he's spent some of his more boring nights doing things to himself that would have a normal man in fucking hysterics.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He knows his way around a hole that's for sure. He slept with one or two folks before Barb but he was pretty monogamous after that despite the sleaze of his acting career. He and Barb did share a very healthy, vibrant sex life and he was eager to experience new things with her but nothing too outside of the 'vanilla' realm.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Seated with his partner riding his lap like any good cowgirl should. The close skin-to-skin contact, plus the easy access to their chest, makes it a firm favourite as he's generous with his tongue and teeth. Plus, it lets him enjoy their facial expressions and hold some eye contact as he drinks in their pleasure.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Never 'goofy' is a daft sense but isn't above using filthy talk and double entendres while cracking a wicked smirk. Lots of word play around his status as both a cowboy and a monster and he likes to remind his partner of BOTH of those facets of his personality.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Look at the poor cunt 😭 he's a great big baldy bastard with nary a pube on him. The only hair he has are the follicles that fall off the folk he occasionally scalps.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Surprisingly romantic given how gruff and generally detached he is, but only with a romantic partner. A random fuck gets a casual pump and dump while sex with a partner has some meaning for him and he likes to feel his partner close and ensure that they have a good time with him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not at the top of his priority list in the grand scheme of things. If he's feeling horny then he'll deal with it and leave the mess splattered on the ground where it fell.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Roleplay is a kink of his and he would be at his happiest role-playing a very traditional "cowboy saves a damsel and she's looking to repay the favour" type scene. His most 'out there' kinks include a mild touch of erotic cannibalism, ropework, and dom/sub dynamics relating to discipline and cnc.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Strong enough to make any vertical surface a viable spot for a fuck, there are very few areas that Cooper can't turn into a good spot for sex. His preference is for a bed though because he can be a lazy fucker when it suits him but that's an indulgence he's very rarely afforded.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Very easily motivated if he can sense his partner is down for a rough tumble in the sheets. All he needs is a WHIFF of a chance of hole and he'll be rubbing himself across you like a cat in heat. Hand straight to the groin like it was magnetic.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sharing his partner? Oh no. He'd fucking kill any third party before they could do anything too untoward. He's jealous as hell and volatile with it as he claims so little in the shithole that is the wastelands. Will threaten to tie his partner up and leave them for the raiders and beasts but that's just a horny threat.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

One leftover from his previous life is his love of giving oral. His wife loved it and he loved receiving it in equal measure. However, with things as they are, he'd rather get his rocks off in warm hole when the opportunity and time arose.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Normally? Fast and rough. However, in the quieter moments when the sun hangs low and he feels relaxed enough to enjoy some time with his partner, he takes great pleasure in some slow and sensual sex.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Due to his circumstances, quickies are often the only option for some hole so if he and his partner are frisky then it's as and when the potential arises.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I think choosing to fuck someone in the wastelands automatically qualifies as a considerable risk. But, yes. He's fond of risk and it's something that he'll continue to push and push until he's satisfied.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Ridiculous stamina. The kind of stamina that will have smoke pouring from your hole if he's not careful lol. As a ghoul, his skin is slightly desensitised so he can go for longer but usually only lasts one good round.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Not really a big fan of toys (finds his cock and mouth MORE than capable thank you VERY much) but will use easy-to-access objects like his lasso and knife for some kinky play.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Only teases when it's a game he's playing. Most of the time, he's looking for some quick, rough action that he and his partner can enjoy in their limited, quieter moments. In terms of vocal teasing? He's very quick to spout off with some sleazy promises and demands.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Tries to be very controlled but does have a tendency to grunt and growl a lot which makes him more animalistic than vocal in terms of his speech when he's fucking someone.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Cooper would like to eat a little bit of his partner if they were willing and had the bit going spare. Most of his meals are a necessity but to have a willing offering would be quite erotic and a big deal for him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His cock is the same shade as the rest of his skin but with a slightly deeper tone in his cockhead. Very average length but on the girthier side with a slight lean to the right when he's fully erect. No pubes, obviously.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Makes a lot of inappropriate comments and touches which would have you believing that he's constantly looking for some tail. That's only true because he tends to be hornier in high-stress situations which, unfortunately, is most of the time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn't sleep much and there's something possessive in him that makes him happier watching over his fucked-out partner as they sleep rather than sleeping himself.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

imagining ghoul just being completely dazzled by vaultie reader….their beauty, their clean teeth and nails, their skin…the softest, smoothest skin he’s seen in hundreds of years. he could hardly remember how it looked til now.

he’d watch over you while you slept by the fire he made with such fascination, studying your features like this when he knew you wouldn’t be able to raise an eyebrow at him and he could allow himself to be relaxed and let down his tough guy wall (after all, you only just met a few days before).

and when you roll up the pants of your suit one day in the heat and expose your legs…he sees they’re perfectly waxed (who knew they had that in the vaults?) and it takes everything he has not to just reach out and touch them.

Smooth Skin

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Vault Dweller

Word Count: 3,109

Warnings: smut (18+), sexual tension, masturbation (male), mild somnophilia, very mild angst.

Summary: Cooper's new companion is beyond distracting.

Notes: Another excellent submission! I have had VERY similar thoughts about how people in the vaults would still adhere to so many old grooming practices that had long disappeared from most of the Wasteland. It would be such a weird thing for non-vault dwellers to see, and not being able to maintain them would be quite the shock for vault dwellers.

Also, this poor old man wouldn't consciously recognize the feeling of "arousal inspired by a specific person" if you beat him over the head with it. It's been about 200 years since he felt it.

Cooper was beginning to wonder if he'd been screwed.

Holding the deeply familiar vial up to the light once more, he gave the liquid contents a shake, examining the consistency, the color, the weight. For the half dozenth time that hour, he lifted it to the open cavity in his face where his nose once sat, inhaling deeply, testing for any unfamiliar odors, ultimately finding none. Lifting the solution to his lips, he tasted it, once, twice, rolling it around in his mouth with deep suspicion.

Everything seemed to be normal about the latest bunch of vials he'd acquired, at least on the surface. However, he was beginning to worry that he'd been given some sort of dud batch, and now he was starting to dissolve into some sort of ferality.

But this didn't feel like the dozens of other times he'd cut it close over the years, when his chest constricted, fighting for every breath as his mind began to cloud with aggressive thoughts, making him feel ready to lash out at anything that moved. No, he could breathe just fine, and he didn't necessarily feel aggressive, but he did feel oddly tense and ready to pounce at the slightest provocation. It didn't seem like anything had changed about his treatment.

Then again, something else had changed pretty drastically over the last few days.

Standing in the baking sun, he waited impatiently for the little vault-dweller he'd inexplicably managed to become attached to to finish her business, infinitely more fidgety than usual. He scanned the horizon with uncharacteristically anxious eyes, his boot tapping in the dirt.

"C'mon, Vaultie! Move your ass!" he called, harsher than he intended, but when the girl came scurrying up out of the ditch, he offered no apology, simply jerking his head in the direction they'd already been headed down the road, waiting for her to get a step or two ahead of him so he could follow, watching her closely.

Very closely.

The old cowboy prided himself on his ability to analyze people, to figure things out about them long before they were disclosed. It had proved an immensely useful skill over and over again. This girl, however, confused him. The pristine cheeriness of her was unsettling, making her stand out clear as day against the dingy, angry, consuming Wasteland.

He didn't trust it, frankly. It had been a long time since he'd met anyone who was genuinely selfless and kind simply because they felt it the right thing to do. She was definitely hiding something, concealing her true nature, but at least she was good at it. Besides, he'd be lying to himself if he said part of the reason he allowed her to tag along with him wasn't that he didn't want to walk past her pretty little corpse on the side of the road in a few days...as if there would be a corpse leftover. At least, a recognizable one.

Ahead of him, the girl caught her boot on a crack in the ancient asphalt, sending her stumbling; his quick reflexes kicked in almost instantly, and he yanked her back by her suit sleeve, sighing when she cast a sheepishly apologetic glance his way. He rolled his eyes and gave her a small push to keep it moving, watching as her hair swished back and forth with her movements.

How many decades had it been since he'd seen a woman with long hair? Maybe it had even been a century, or more. Most women in the Wasteland kept their hair cropped fairly short; easier to care for, less for someone to grab onto if you were attacked. Shampoo was still fairly easy to acquire, but only because most people didn't have consistent access to enough clean water to bathe with. Hair could also be sold in some cases, and many people found themselves desperate enough to do something like that in this world, unfortunate as it was.

But this girl, her dark curls hung down to her waist, flowing down her back and shoulders elegantly, or laid along her spine in a neat braid when she got especially red and sweaty. It was so shiny; he wanted to run his fingers through it for some reason, so badly that when she'd bumped into him their first day of travel, her view obscured by the dark curtain, he didn't even think to scold her, too busy willing himself to not thread his fingers into the soft strands. When he was close enough, he noticed that it smelled like wildflowers.

He'd met her just outside Filly. Where she was headed, a few settlements northwest to find an aunt or a sister or a grandmother or something, wasn't the most perilous route she'd shown him on her Pip Boy (in a very surreal conversation where she'd treated him like he was any other man), but she was already showing that she wasn't truly equipped to make it there intact. Hell, she had flagged him down for directions, in a move that had made him genuinely wonder if he hadn't done too much Jet that morning. That little maneuver wouldn't get her killed with him (at least, on the right day) but it would quickly get her robbed or worse with many others.

His first instinct had been to leave her to her fate, but he found that he just couldn't leave her there on the side of the road, that blinding white smile, those big, round eyes, her basically pristine vault suit making her stand out like a sore thumb. Begrudgingly, he had agreed to let her walk with him to where she was going.

She tired rather quickly compared to him, his condition making thermoregulation much less of a concern. His soft new companion, however, was unaccustomed to the sun, to the heat, and was often too exhausted to continue in any real capacity by the time the sun set. The nights got cold, colder than it seemed she'd anticipated, and she chattered her way through that whole first evening; each subsequent night, he'd built a small fire to keep her warm through the coldest part. It annoyed him immensely, having to expose them in the dark like that, but, oddly, he found that he equally disliked watching her shiver on the ground.

"Do you think we could stop for a while?" she asked suddenly, stopping in her tracks to turn to him and nearly slamming into his chest in the process. His hand braced on her shoulder, slightly shoving her aside so they didn't collide; the hand that touched her tingled when he pulled it away, and he cast a quick glance at his palm.

"You're really pushin' it today, kid. You know that?" he growled, his tone dripping with unconcealed irritation. They could easily get at least a few more hours of walking in before the sun went down, and once she stopped walking for the day, it was hard to get her going again.

The way her eyes widened at him before dropping to the ground actually made him feel guilty, flooring him just a little. He held his face in its usual neutral mask.

"I'm sorry." she murmured, chastened. "I'm just not used to walking so long in the heat."

Immediately, he rolled his eyes, though whether he was rolling them at her or at himself, he genuinely didn't know. Casting his eyes further down the road, then around where they'd stopped, they fell onto a clutch of old, dead trees and rocks, a small amount of shade gathering there. It was well concealed enough, he supposed.

"Fine. We can stop over there. But we're gonna get a few more miles in today, at least, so don't get comfy."

Flashing him those perfect teeth again, she quickly made her way off the road and threw herself down at the base of the largest tree, hiding from the sun as best as she could. He took the opportunity to dig some food out of his bag, have another smoke or two, and reflect on his choices, his back to her by and large as he watched the road.

"I didn't know the sun was so bright." she huffed after while, her tone almost petulant. "Or so hot."

He turned back to her, a slick reply about her general naivete locked and loaded, but he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of her sat there on the ground, tugging off her boots and socks. Folding each sock into a neat little ball, she tucked them into their corresponding mate and sat them aside, stretching her legs out in front of her. Quiet, he watched her roll up each pant leg to her knee, as high as the cut of the material would allow, reclining back in the small patch of shade she'd found.

Those toned, smooth calves that peeked out at him were the most intriguing thing he'd seen in a minute, his eyes practically glued to the exposed skin. There was a softness to her that he thought didn't exist anymore; in her supple body, the way she actually held a little extra fat from years of being fed and safe in a vault, the soft, clear expanse of her skin, her clean, manicured fingernails. Oddly enough, he found himself deeply wanting to reach out and wrap one of his hands around her ankle, the other running up the taut muscle of her leg. He shoved the feeling down and turned back to the road, fidgeting.

A while later, the sun was dipping behind the horizon, but still frying everything it touched when she finally spoke again.

"Do you wanna get going soon?" she called, tone much more relaxed than before.

He turned to look at her again, having avoided doing so for over an hour, her sleeves rucked up to her elbows as well, and shook his head.

"Nah. Might as well just bed down here and get some sleep. Good a place as any, I guess. I wanna cover some real ground tomorrow." he replied, keeping his tone noncommittal. "Get your rest, princess. If you can't keep up tomorrow, I'm leaving your ass behind."

She shot him a look, somewhere between evaluating whether or not he was serious and rolling her eyes at his continued unpleasantness, but she didn't respond outside of a simple nod, sinking back down onto the ground and closing her eyes. Once the sun went down fully, he went around gathering up dried sticks and brush to build a small fire, setting up near where she was obviously quickly falling asleep, curled up on her side and using her backpack as a pillow.

Cooper kept watch for a few hours as it quickly darkened, the girl falling soundly asleep as he sat polishing his guns. Eventually, he grew bored of weapon maintenance, and his eyes were drawn to the vault dweller lying a few feet to his side.

He leaned closer, allowing himself to inspect her face closer than he'd had a chance to thus far. Walking behind her all day allowed him plenty of time to study her silhouette, her gait, the dancing length of her hair. But her face was always hidden, and when she turned to face him, he felt unable to look her in the eye for too long without that itch creeping into his brain, sending him searching through his pockets for his inhaler.

Now that he could take a long, uninterrupted look at her without worrying about being caught, it finally dawned on him, though, not immediately:

Fuck, she was beautiful.

And she was, and would have been if he'd met her in another life, too, each feature of her more appealing than the next. That long hair had been braided back away from her face, the length of it coiled like a snake along her back as she snored ever-so-lightly, her head sitting crookedly against her backpack. Before he could even think about it, his hand had already been tugged loose of his glove and reached out to softly pet at it, the strands silken under his bare fingers.

When did he get so close to her?

He thought back to her exposed legs, now hidden back away beneath her pant legs, kicked most of the way back down to assist in keeping her warm, and thought about how there had been no hair there. Many aspects of grooming that had once been normal were long lost to him, but that was certainly one of the biggest ones. He had completely forgotten that women once generally shaved the hair from their legs, and how big a deal it was considered when they didn't. He'd thought it was a silly thing to expect then; now, it just seemed like a sad thing to fixate on, with all that had been going on at the time.

However, that didn't stop him from imagining how smooth, how silky her legs would feel if he ran his hands along them, how high the smoothness would go until he would be able to feel the presence of downy little body hairs, the likes of which he hadn't had himself in centuries. Would they start at her knees? Or would he have to feel all the way up to the tops of her pillowy thighs to feel them? He remembered, vaguely, that some women would shave between their legs, too, and wondered if she did that as well.

Why was he thinking about what was between her legs?

His brain was so foggy the longer he looked at her, his one free hand quickly moving to dig his inhaler out of his pocket, taking the longest drag he could take off of it. It didn't clear his mind, didn't stop him from feeling like he wanted to touch more of her, to lean close and smell her, taste her. A hard shudder broke down his spine, and his cock set to throbbing in his pinstriped pants, his teeth gnashing. He was anxious to get to the next big settlement so he could buy new vials; he was convinced there was something wrong with these ones.

Regardless, he could breathe fine and didn't feel like a threat to the girl, necessarily...so his attention shifted, rather sourly, to his aching erection, now straining against his thigh.

It wasn't that he never masturbated; he was still a man beneath all the rads and rot, and his sex drive had never fully died, only dwindled down to a single flame whose presence didn't usually draw any attention from him. But it wasn't something he relished in, no more than eating food he couldn't really taste anymore to sustain himself or feigning sleep to allow his legs and back to rest. It was simply another need that had to be met on occasion; a quick tug at himself, not thinking of anything in particular, until he spilled onto the ground and went on with his life. It never needed to be more than that.

Now, however, his entire gut was aflame, the smell of her filling the air and further intoxicating him, his still-gloved hand moving to press against his cock through the fabric, the feeling leaving him arching his hips slightly up into his own touch. He wanted so badly to touch more than her hair, but knew that it wasn't advisable; the girl slept more soundly than anyone in the Wasteland, it seemed, but if she were to wake up and find him touching himself beside her, who knows what trouble there would be?

He couldn't touch her, but that didn't mean he couldn't study her, running his eyes over each part of her over and over again as the light and warmth of the fire slowly died down. He was tracing curve of her breasts and the way it flowed into the little roll of her belly for the umpteenth time, grinding hard against his hand, by the time the flames died down completely. She'd curled almost completely in on herself, hiding her face against her hands, and he wished he could look closer at it again as he slunk closer and closer to the edge.

As if she could read his mind, she suddenly rolled onto her back, resettling quickly as her head slid fully off of the bag. The mild highlights of the moon played along her face and torso, her plush lips parting in a soft, dreamy sigh. Fleetingly, he wondered if she would make that sound for him if he touched her just right, and, embarrassingly, that thought was enough to put an end to him.

The orgasm that washed over him granted some mild relief, his spend pooling in a sticky mess in his pant leg as he let out a few quiet heavy breaths, the hand that had been touching her hair scratching lines into the dirt, but it was bittersweet. In the haze afterwards, for the first time in a long, long time, he thought about Barb, about the way she would sigh his name when she came apart, about how soft and warm she would feel against him when he held her close after they made love. The deeply buried pain behind his breastbone that had started the day he'd found out the truth about her kicked up once more.

Sitting in the dark silence, a hard edge of discomfort and annoyance steeled up his spine, leaving him still in his ruminations until the uncomfortable feeling of the mess in his pants became intolerable. Letting out a huff, he shifted away from her and walked a few steps away as quietly as possible to clean himself up as best as he could, shame thick in the crisp air. When he finished, he dug into his pocket for an angry cigarette, jamming it between his thin lips and turning back towards her to face away from the breeze as he lit it.

But when he looked at her once more, really let himself look at her, he felt that pain in his breast soften, her soft skin almost glowing in the moonlight as she slept, peacefully unaware of anything but her blissful rest. It wasn't something he saw often. When he sat back down beside her, grabbing for his loose glove in the dark, he sat close enough that the outside of his thigh touched the arm under her head, pulling on his lit smoke absentmindedly as he continued to study his little companion. Her even, steady breathing was quite soothing to him, actually.

He was still going to buy a new set of vials.

[ghoulishneeds]

✦ ° ✦Cooper (The Ghoul) Howard ✦ ° ✦

✦ NSFW Alphabet ✦

° I’m so sorry I want him so bad °

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I hate to break it to you but you’re not gonna get much out of him. Just really a general once over and he’s tucking himself back into his pants, and back on his feet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He’d be hard pressed to pick a favorite on himself. If he had to, his eyes. They’ve kept that, whiskey in sunlight color and he finds himself favoring that.

On his partner, anything particularly soft and fleshy. Tits, thighs, ass, stomach anything in that vicinity. He likes the way that skin feels under his rough hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Has a thing for cumming buried in you. Dragging you back, flush against him, pressing his weight down on you. I wouldn’t call it a “breeding” kink more like an ownership thing.

He likes watching it drip back out of you.

But if he’s feeling particularly mean, he likes painting your face nice and messy. He likes the look of indignation you give him, gets off on making you mad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Sometimes likes taking on a more submissive role (very rarely)

He still needs control in some facet, but he’s not above teaching you how to tie a good knot, if you know what I mean.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The man’s been around for over 200 years, he knows what the fuck he’s doing. You’re in for a good ride.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl, but SPECIFICALLY when your arms are tied behind your back. He likes watching you struggle a bit to reach your own pleasure. Watching your tits bounce is an added bonus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Definitely serious, I’d even say threatening. However, definitely consistently makes his little quips and remarks through the entire encounter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Bro looks like a hard boiled egg.

Moving on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Almost no intimacy, eye contact is even a power move from him. If you want intimacy from him you’re reeeeeaaaalllyyyy gonna have to work for it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I gotta be honest, I feel like he’s not doin it that often. Like, when he does it’s 100% a tension/stress release and he moves on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

B O N D A G E. I guarantee 9 times out of 10 you will be tied up in some way.

I also think he’s into knife play, he likes to mark you up a little. Leave his mark permanently.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s not picky. Anywhere, anytime. Doesn’t matter to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

A good fight gets him going. He likes it when you get a little feisty and fight back, try to run. Anything that triggers the hunter instinct really does it for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I gotta be honest I’m coming up blank here. I don’t really think he’s above doing anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Absolutely prefers receiving. Number one fan of skull fucking. Likes watching you drool around his cock while he pushes it down your throat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Very rough. Sets a fast, hard, punishing pace from the start and stays in it. You ache for DAYS after.

That’s fine though, he likes watching you wince when he fucks you the next time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

They’re frequent. You’re in the desert jumping from town to town. Any chance he gets, he takes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Nothing makes him nervous. He takes risks left and right. Big fan of semi public fucking. He likes watching you struggle to stay quiet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Decent stamina, lasts for a good amount of time. But let’s face it, mans is suffering from radiation poisoning, he probably needs a second after to catch his breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

That’s a big ol nope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he loves to tease. He’ll make little comments throughout the day. Says outright vulgar things. Grinds himself up against you every chance he gets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not particularly loud but runs his mouth the whole time. He says absolutely filthy things. Little grunts and curses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Secretly, desperately craves intimacy but would drop dead before asking for it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Thick and curved. Probably an average length. Probably looks the same as the rest of him. (Insert ribbed for her pleasure joke here)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s probably got a high sex drive. When he wants it, he takes it. Ready to go just about whenever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You’re not fully convinced he even sleeps. He’s careful to make sure you’re asleep before him, not wanting to let his guard down like that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[not-neverland06]

Crash of Worlds

Previous part / Next part

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The Ghoul x fem!reader A/N: After this there’s gonna be more canon divergence - this one’s short (rope divider done by @saradika-graphics , cowboy hat/revolvers done by @firefly-graphics) Summary: You’d been expecting everything to be different, people, to be different. But not like this. Not to such an extreme extent. Maybe the vault had softened you more than you’d have liked but there was nothing to do about it now.

The green canopy of the forest provides a welcome relief from the heat. You and Lucy follow the signs pointing the way to Filly. You hear it before you ever get to see it. There’s a distant sound of yelling and the murmur of people. It has your heart clenching in your chest. 

You’re outside, breathing in real air, not oxygen from tanks. You can feel the breeze in your hair and hear people. It’s all you wanted for three years. Bud prepared you for a lot. But he didn’t prepare you for just how jarring it is to wake up and suddenly everything you’ve ever known is gone. You don’t feel the years you’ve been asleep. It was like it happened yesterday. 

But you’ve had three years to come to peace with what had happened. You can’t let yourself get wrapped up in this feeling of nostalgia. The raiders that came down to the vault were proof enough that the people you’re going to meet up here aren’t going to be anywhere near friendly. You know this world has turned into dog-eat-dog, Lucy doesn’t yet, though. 

She walks towards a large grove of abandoned cars. The paint has flaked off and the glass smashed in, but they’re not in horrible condition for being two hundred odd years old. You're distracted by the convertible she stands next to and you gasp. 

You rush forward, hand smoothing over the hood and grinning at the familiar feel. “I-”

You cut yourself off abruptly and Lucy looks over at you, a curious smile on her face. “What is it?”

You shake your head, “Nothing. Just excited to see civilization again.” You give her a terse smile, hoping she doesn’t smell the lie. You’d almost said that it was exactly like your old car. But that would have opened up a can of worms you weren’t ready for. 

She groans, linking her arm through yours and nodding. “I know, me too. The surface is definitely not what I was expecting.”

You sigh, glancing back at the car before stepping towards Filly. “Yeah, me either.” 

The noise reaches a crescendo as you finally manage to make your way into the market. There’s still signs directing you further through the woods so you figure this must not be Filly yet. Probably just a little place where people tried to peddle junk. 

A man lurches out at you holding out a kebab and grinning widely. “DOG MEAT!” You jump back in shock as he screams in your face. His eyes are unseeing as he waves the kebab around. “GET YOUR DOGMEAT HERE!” 

“Oh, what the fuck?” You mutter, you didn’t mean dog-eat-dog literally. You notice you and Lucy getting odd looks and you finally realize just how much the two of you stand out. In comparison, you're both well groomed and much cleaner than anyone here. 

Not only that but you’ve got the stupid Pip-Boy’s on your arm and vault suits on. You’re walking advertisements of “Come rob me!” You steer Lucy further through the market, narrowly avoiding a lizard meat stall and dragging her towards a tunnel at the end of the path. Filly’s just beyond and you shove her through the opening, eager to get somewhere where you might be able to find something useful. 

You seperate with the promise to meet back up in the middle of the town square. You’re going to look for something to change into and she’ll find some information on her father. Should be easy enough. 

He’s not supposed to be here. He’d gotten himself and all of his kind banned a long time ago. An impressive feat, considering how lawless Filly is. But no one’s going to say anything to him, no one ever has before. 

Any other ghoul and they would have been dragged right back out before they could even put a foot through the tunnel. But he’s not any ghoul, he’s the ghoul. And no one in their right mind is going to be the one to start a fight they’ve got no fucking hope of winning. 

He rolls the empty vial of RadAway around in his hand, hat tipped down as he waits for his mark to show up. Ma June, cantankerous old bitch that she is, always has good supplies. But she doesn’t sell to ghouls, and if he didn’t need her alive right now he would have shot her for turning him away. She’s a well known fence for fugitives and bounties. If his mark is going to show up anywhere, it’s going to be right here. 

Most of the people who try their hand at bounty hunting do it for the experience. They get bored, not that he can fucking blame them. After a while staring at nothing but sand and chickens makes a man go a little crazy. They don’t understand that it’s all a waiting game. 

Sometimes it’s an exhilarating chase, like a predator tracking down its prey. But more often than not he’s just waiting for a slip up. A mistake from whoever has a price on their head is usually what lands them in his hands. And the second this man decided to use Ma June as a transport was when he made his mistake. Everyone knows that Barv can’t keep her mouth shut for shit. 

When someone decides Ma June can help them, everyone knows where they are. It’s a big bounty, enough to keep anyone with a normal life cycle sated for the rest of their life. For him, it’s all about the hunt. The wait, that look in their eyes when they realize they're trapped and there’s nowhere left for them to turn. He loves it when he’s got them cornered. 

There’s a desperation to them that makes the capture all the more sweeter.  

There’s two bright flashes of blue against the otherwise dreary countenance of Filly. He doesn’t look up much, still trying not to draw too much attention to himself. He sees one, brown hair and wide eyed as she takes in the sights. Fucking vaulties. 

It’s been a while since he’s taken one of their bounties. Their tech was pretty valuable among surface dwellers and when one was spotted, which was rare, there was usually a good price on their head. He can only catch the back of the other one, her face blocked by a conveniently placed support beam next to him. 

She stops by the clothing stall, waving her friend along and speaking to the woman who runs the booth. Good fucking luck to her. There was no haggling with that woman and her prices were fucking ridiculous. He wonders how long it will be until he sees those two on the poster in some bar somewhere. He’s sure when the time comes, he’ll enjoy taking them too. 

His gaze goes back to Ma June’s shop, interest already waned in the rare vault dweller. They were never all that fun. Never had any good information and always had a stick up their ass about morals and being a “good” person. 

Finally, his mark turns up. Blind to the danger lurking behind him. 

You’re in a really shitty spot when the fighting starts. You’re overwhelmed by everything around you. Freaks in wacky ass clothes peddling their mutated animals and fucking teeth. Teeth. 

Teeth and bottle caps, that’s the currency now. Who decided that bottle caps were a good idea? Or teeth for that matter. You’ve only got so many of them. You don’t even want to think about what they’re getting used for.

The woman in front of you only has four of her own left and she’s demanding three of yours for a shirt. You’re not well versed in the economy of the wasteland, but even you’re sure that three teeth is a ridiculous ask. From the way people keep glaring at you as they walk by, you’re sure that she thinks because you’re from a vault you’re going to be gullible. 

You’re too caught up in your quickly escalating argument to realize what’s happening until it’s too late. A man stands in the center of the square, his back to you. You can tell from your view that he’s pretty badly burned, the skin around his neck and skull warped and twisted. 

He’s yelling about a bounty and your head tilts in confusion. There’s something to the lilt of that accent that sounds familiar. You take a step forward, abandoning the clothing stall and trying to place how you know him. It’s impossible, really, that anyone recognizable would still be alive. But maybe someone else got out of a vault and made it to the surface. If they did, it clearly wasn’t unscathed. 

It’s only when he pulls out his gun that you realize Lucy is standing in front of him, with the man that bothered her last night. You want to call out her name, try and catch her eye, but the last thing you need is him pointing that gun at you. You jump back in shock as he shoots the man’s foot off, eyes widening, and feet scrambling backwards. 

The woman in the clothing stall hisses, “Fucking ghoul,” and makes a run for it. You watch her go, finally realizing just how empty the square is now. Everyone has left, all of them terrified by the man in black. Your eyes dart between him and the stall. 

She’s gone, and you need clothes. You’ll deal with Lucy’s scolding later. You leap over the counter of the stall and begin to rifle through the woman’s stock. Stuffing any spare clothes you think will fit into your pack and just because she was such a horrid bitch, you steal her bag of caps too. 

The crazy old lady by the shop screams out a reward for anyone who manages to kill the man in front of you. When the guns start going off you realize just how screwed you are. You’re in the middle of the town square. Granted, you are blocked by the clothing stall, but these bullets they’re using aren’t ordinary. 

They’re getting holes blown clean through their chest and the buildings around them are damn near exploding from the impact. The measly little wooden stall isn’t going to be any sort of decent cover against them. 

You risk another look over the counter, hoping to find a clear path to Lucy or at least some better cover. He’s finally turned around now and you can get a half decent glance at his side profile. There’s nothing truly recognizable about him, just familiar. It’s hard to really tell anything about him when he doesn’t have a nose. 

You watch with wide eyes and a disbelieving expression as he takes three shots to the chest like it’s nothing. He keeps chewing on his tomatoes and slowly finding cover to reload. A ghoul. Hank and Betty had told you and the other’s about them. People poisoned by radiation. 

Most of them turn feral, but those who can find the right chems live a lot longer than any normal human should. They heal nearly immediately and are almost invulnerable to anything except their own disease. Considering how quick on the draw this guy is, no one has any real hope of taking him down. 

With the shooting redirected you leap out from behind the counter and rush towards the shop. But something stops you before you reach the door. You don’t know what it is, what connects in your brain that has you so harshly coming to a stop. 

You whirl around, ignoring the way Lucy calls out your name. He’s back out from his cover now. He aims, grinning and laughing as he manages to get two people with one bullet. Carnage is all around you. Blood flying through the air, surrounded by blood and guts. The relatively peaceful downtown has been littered with dead. 

And in the middle of it all stands him. You have to be wrong. There’s no fucking way he’s standing in front of you. You take a step forward and his head whips towards you. The rest of him isn’t recognizable, but you would know those eyes anywhere. 

His eyes widen with surprise and you feel your gut drop to your feet. This can’t be him. There’s no way. He’s slaughtering these people like it’s nothing. The man you knew could never be so casual about this. Then again, the relationship you’d had was built on lies. Maybe you’d never really known him. 

Before you can process the anger in his face you’re being jerked to the side. Lucy pants as she drags you into the shop and you look over your shoulder, shocked to find a bullet where you’d just been standing. You catch his eye, see the smoke coming from the barrel of his gun and realize he’d tried to fucking shoot you.

Shit, maybe it is him. He had always had a bad temper and a good aim. 

You can feel his eyes, tracking you even as you disappear behind the walls of the shop. You and Lucy risk a peek out of the shop when you hear something like an explosion. You gape as a power suit lands in front of him. What twisted ass blast to the past have you just been sent to?

How the fuck was Cooper Howard, ghoulified, and a power suit both in the same area? 

You had to be dreaming. There was no way this was happening. But it was, and whoever was in charge of that suit had no idea what they were doing. He’s ducking under their swinging metal arms, taunting them and drawing out the fight. He could end this now, you both know where the weakness is. 

Hell, you could end this fight right now. But you don’t see the need to kill the Knight when it’s clear he’s trying to protect you and Lucy. “We need to get him,” Lucy points frantically to the man on the ground. He’s not really moving, just clutching the bloody nub where his foot used to be and looking astonished at the blood around him. 

“This is really stupid,” you hiss as you both start forward and wrap an arm around one of his own. You don’t have much time to process what happens next. 

“Watch out!” The knight barrels towards you both. He wraps his arms around Lucy and goes flying into a building. You jump back at the explosion of wood and metal flying down around you. The ghoul has his gun pointed at them both. He’d clearly been trying to snipe you both, get you away from the man on the ground. 

Well, he could fucking have him. You drop the man to the ground and he grunts as you make a run for it. A coward’s move, the same one you admonished Norm for. But, you’re a fucking hypocrite, so what? Right now, you’d really just like to survive this gun fight unscathed. 

Something lands near your foot and you jump, realizing it’s a bullet. You glance up and the ghoul is laughing at you, full on belly laughing as he shoots around you. You realize with a start that he’s playing with you. Taunting you like a man who’s got all the time in the world. But you can’t stop running. If you stop, those bullets are going to catch up with you. 

You keep going, legs pumping and heart racing as you’re separated more and more from Lucy. The mission, the whole reason you came up to the surface, is lost on you. You can only focus on one thing, surviving. You keep running, through alleyways and around buildings until you’re back in the woods. The whole time his laughter is following you. 

The sharp noise of something whistling through the air reaches your ears and then something snaps against you. You glance down, only a moment to process the rope over your arms before he’s dragging you back. Your head hits the ground with a harsh snap, the motion slamming your teeth together and nearly biting off the tip of your tongue. 

You groan in dazed pain and then he’s slowly dragging you back. One sharp tug after another, rocks ripping at your suit and scalp, hair ripped out underneath your back. Until, finally, he’s peering over you, face upside down and lips twisted up into a strained smile. 

“Well, there you are, sweetheart.”

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[skele-bunny]

Braids. (No CW) Everyone/Everyone

CW: NONE, Minor nsfw at end.

Characters: Dewdrop, Swiss, Rain, Mountain, Phantom.

So one of @divine-misfortune 's anons inspired me to write some Swiss grooming! Reminded me of when I used to do my ex's hair. It's extremely comforting!

Read it under the cut or on AO3!

The smell of jojoba oil and soapy water filled the common room, making Phantom peek his head out from his room, yawning from his nap. The bat crept forwards, tilting his head as he seen Dew and Rain on the couch together - Swiss between Rain's legs, and Mountain on his left also on the floor. 

Purrs were shared with the TV adding a comforting background noise, some family game show that Rain always adored watching. 

“Hey!” Phantom called out, getting the four to look back and smile wide. 

“Mornin’ bug.” Swiss called out first, not moving his head anymore after Mountain turned him back.

“What are you doing?” 

Dew shrugged, picking up a spray bottle and shaking it, spraying it through Swiss' scalp. “We're redoing Swiss’ braids.”

“Oh! I know how to braid!” Phantom trilled, quickly going around the couch to join. “Cumulus showed me how!”

Swiss laughed, “That's adorable, bug. But they're doing specific braids. It's for my hair type, not like the silk one you guys do.”

“There's a difference?” 

“Mmhm.” Swiss leaned his head back as Rain began to slowly section his hair with a comb. “You can watch if you'd like.”

Keeping his eyes on his pack mate's, Phantom’s tail began to wag as Dew lit his hands up, carefully drying his hair - keeping his hands at a comfortable distance so he didn't set Swiss’ hair on fire… Like the first time he did Swiss' braids, but Phantom didn't need to know that. Rain pressed his fingers down, sectioning more and more on Mountain's side before getting to his own, then finally Dew's once he was finished. He brought out a small thing of pins, pushing down the tight curls to stay still as they waited for their turn to be braided. 

Mountain had started, using his claws to gently spread into three, starting near his scalp and slowly pulling back. The action made Swiss sigh, his tail curling then releasing as he got comfortable as more nails began to touch his scalp. After a moment of silence, Swiss peaked his eye open at Phantom, smiling as the newly summon watched with bright curiosity.

“Do you wanna try one?” He asked.

It took the Quint to realize he was being talked to but nodded with such bright joy. Dew patted his leg which Phantom quickly sat on, letting his mate guide him through sectioning the hair.

“There you go… Now, keep it center, bring the right under… Now left.” Dew mumbled against Phantom's shoulder, keeping a close eye on his work. “Make sure you stitch it into the scalp… There you go, you got it. Now, keep it flat. Swiss wants his flat, but usually, you'd add other sections into your stitch.” 

Phantom nodded, listening and keeping a close eye on what he was doing, following Dewdrop's advice and words. As he got off Swiss’ neck, Phantom fell into a comfortable rhythm as he kept pulling down before taking a hair tie Dew offered, closing off the braid. 

“Look at you, bat! Hell of a job for your first time.” Dew praised, patting Phantom's side as he slid off on the floor again.

Touching the new braid, Swiss pulled it forwards and smiled. “Damn! That's what I'm talking about!” He offered his hand, laughing as Phantom high-fived him back. “Now you can Dew’s poor fingers a break.”

Laughter joined the circle before the fire ghoul went back to braiding, Swiss patting his lap for Phantom now - not minding as he hopped around for more affection from his pack. His own hair was played with, head tilted to watch the show - a man looking astonished at an answer a contestant gave. It was about half an hour when Mountain stood up, kissing Swiss’ cheek as he went to make lunch, leaving his section clipped. Then more time, and Mountain came back with plates stacked professionally on his arm, giving one to each mate before they sat silently for a break.

“We asked a hundred married men, what is something that you do for your wife that you hate?”

“Braid their fuckin’ hair.” Dew teased, lightly nudging Swiss with his foot.

“Yeah, yeah! You know you love it.”

The pack leader tilted his head, going back to his side salad. “Have you thought about changing it up?"

“Sometimes. I think having them in cornrows is more comfortable for the helmets, really. But I've been wanting to do butterfly braids for a bit.”

“That sounds pretty.” Mountain chimed in, his own plate finished and now just rubbing his wrists. 

Phantom nuzzled under the Multi’s chin, kneading on his chest as he got comfortable again. “What are butterfly braids?”

“Just another way to do my hair.”

The quint let out a small ‘oh!’ and nodded, eventually feeling Swiss sit up a bit more as Rain went back to braiding his few sections. It took a few hours before it was finished, Swiss standing up off his pillow once Phantom moved and stretched his back, rolling his neck to pop. He grabbed his scarf, grabbing some of the bobby pins, quickly covering his hair after shaking them out and giving one last spray of the conditioner water.

“Thank you, lovelies!” Swiss cooed, kissing each mate with a smile. 

As he finished with Mountain, the earth ghoul tugged on his shirt. “I wanna use one of my rewards.”

“Haha, yeah?”

“Rewards?” Phantom tilted his head again. 

Mountain settled himself on the couch as Swiss got to his knees again, speaking over his shoulder as he began to undo Mountain's belt. “I pay them back for doing my hair by offering them blowjobs whenever they want for an entire week and me doing a day of their chores. Works out pretty good!” 

The Quintessence Ghoul's face quickly became a deep purple as he watched before scrambling up to grab the plates, walking into the kitchen to the sound of Dewdrop's laughter at his embarrassment.

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Obscuary's monster catwalk

Obscuary ghouls as cats

Wc: ~700

Ed

The sleepiest chartreux ever. He is always on the cat tower or in his bed.

Maybe it's because he is older than the other two and you see the contrast, but when Rui and Lyca chase each other or play he prefers to lay in your lap and make biscuits.

He used to play fight with Rui but once he acted really hurt to go back to sleep and Rui now feels guilty and still licks him to ‘make up’ for it.

His laziness is such that if you make him walk to his food and not carry him there/ serve him closer he will act as if he has a limp or meow as if he was pained enough for you to feel sorry. Either you or the vet are sure if he is in any real pain but you give him supplements for his bones and joints either way. You do notice he doesn't meow sadly while walking until he sees you and starts the whole melodrama.

What gives him away is how quickly he jumps up the platforms on the wall when Lyca tries to play with him and how smug he looks down on him when he can just meows him to go down.

Either way he is so sensitive to your emotions! When you cry in bed he will hop on your chest and lick your tears. (totally not him liking the salt in them)

Just like Ren you have to control his screen time, he might not like playing but he does stay totally still and has his eyes wide when you put on a conspiracy theorist on the tablet or TV.

Rui

A blond American shorthair.

The sweetest cat that purrs and meows so sweetly and contorts his body trying to ask for cuddles and kisses but as soon as you step a little closer and attempt to catch him he starts sprinting to the hideout. It isn't only you, the few female cats that seemed interested in him made him retreat too.

No matter how many times you chime at him and even spritz him he keeps biting pieces of your plants and flowers and keeps them ‘hidden’ in his hideout.

He is such an innate hunter! And he always brings you his victims, still when he brings you a dead ladybug or bird his appearance is closer to that of an apologetic child than a prideful hunter. It's almost as if he wants you to fix his mistake and return the little thing's life.

He seems to meet up with Romeo and Haru every night on your dining table as they meow (principally Haru, he is such a whiny baby)

He has a habit of picking up small pieces of clothing like socks and underwear and bringing them to the laundry room, even if it's helpful to already have them on the floor when you go load the machine, he sometimes opens your drawers and grabs clean ones to feel he is doing something productive. He did put Ed there once when he was nasty enough for him to refuse to help groom him.

Lyca

A messy and stiff haired Lykoi.

He was a rescue found between wild dogs that you fostered but decided to keep as his forever family.He still has some dog-like mannerisms, like wagging his tail when happy.

He is in kitty confinement jail (cat carrier) until he stops swatting and hissing at you or his brothers. Luckily Subaru was brave enough to stand beside him until he calmed and he behaved enough for you to free him under parole.

The first few days, even though he wasn't hitting anyone, nobody dared to approach him unless Subaru was besides him.

Speaking of, Subaru is the one who took it upon himself to teach him how to behave like a cat again, teaching him how to groom himself and jump high, much to Ed's chagrin.

He likes to stalk Ed, wanting to imitate what he thinks is the leader of the pack. He even annoys him trying to fight him but he just huffs and climbs up furniture or up the cat tree.

Unlike Rui, he is good at hunting and proud of it. He might be one of the few, if not only, who will bring you dead rats to show off. Once you even got a baby bunny that luckily was still alive even if scared.

[gabessquishytum]

Hi Gabe and welcome back 💖💖 I’ve got a particularly delicious ask for you hehe

So TJ-Dragonblade and Delta-Pavonis both wrote incredible fics on the concept of immortal gigolo to the supernatural, Hob Gadling, and Dream finding out about said occupation in modern day.

But what if Hob had the opportunity to service Dream in 1389? Then 1489, and 1589…you get the gist. 

Maybe Hob is the token mortal at the agency who happens to become immortal because Dream just finds him so irresistible and he wants to fuck this mortal way past his normal lifespan. Or maybe Hob’s already met Death and gotten immortality another way from her, and now he’s heard all about Dream and is eager to please.  

Maybe they both think at first this is just a nice arrangement, a good way to get a mindblowing orgasm once a century but oops, Hob’s caught feels! And Dream has too but he’ll be the last to admit that.

Anyways, how do you think their 1789 meeting REALLY went in this scenario? 😏😏😏

Hey beloved seiya!!! Thank you for this ask - I have been thinking about immortal gigolo Hob SO MUCH. My brain immediately went to 'Hob started the agency and is like the brothel madame and only very occasionally takes on special clients'. The idea of Hob as a somewhat morally grey person who takes in supernatural waifs and strays and kind of grooms them into the perfect escorts really tickles my brain. Of course when he sees Dream, Hob immediately calls dibs on him because he's so fucking pretty no one else is allowed to have him.

As for their 1789 meeting, I have so many thoughts about Hob getting dressed up beforehand. I mean it in the nicest possible way but he looks like such a tart at that meeting (in all fairness so does Dream) so I can't help but imagine all the other employees helping Hob get ready for his big date - he's got a selkie coiffuring his hair, a couple of ghouls helping him with his garters, a werewolf giving him a manicure. It's like cinderella getting ready for the ball. Hob books the private room for them to have their little tete a tete... and of course he doesn't forget to specify that he wants a bedroom.

How can Dream resist this particularly tasty morsel? Hob looks better than ever in 1789, he's really made a go of it in the business world... Dream may disapprove, but he appreciates the results. Add the fact that Hob is so eager for him, so clearly prepared and thrilled to be fucked by his mysterious stranger... well, Dream has an ego. He's only too happy to sprawl back against the mattress and allow Hob to suck him off - not once, but twice. His hair comes lose from his pretty ribbon and Hob doesn't look so different from 1389, long haired and dishevelled and grinning. Dream is about 30 seconds from taking him off to the dreaming forever. Why limit himself to once a century, when he could have this every night?

Alas, they are interrupted.

Instead of accusing Hob of being the Wandering Jew, Lady Constantine calls him the Devil's Whore. She's not exactly far off. Lucifer is a client of the agency, but Hob never serves them personally. In fact, Hob only serves Dream. But Dream doesn't need to know that. He believes that Hob spends his immortal days in the debauched company of many, many beings. Believing anything else would be admission of something special between them, and Dream can't allow that...

Not for another 250 years or so, anyway!