#gob x lone

[danses-with-dogmeat]

G is for -- Gob

My sweet, sweet Gob 🥺

There's a reason his is so long 😅 I could write for this lovely guy forever <3

I hope y'all enjoy this one!

And here is the 2k event masterlist, for your browsing pleasure!

Also, just a little TW for brief mentions of abuse.

--

Pair: Gob x g/n! Lone

Dialogue: "I don't care if someone sees."

Word: Gush

Rating: SFW - but suggestive in some areas 😅

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

“Get over yourself,” Lone scoffed good-naturedly at the bartender across the counter. “Gob here can make a proper drink out of anything, you really– you wouldn’t believe it, I’m telling you.”

“Let’s not insult the man passing out the drinks, eh?” Gob said gently, leaning towards them so as not to allow his words to reach the man across the way.

“I’m not insulting him.” 

Gob seemed to pale at that.  That, and the loudness of their voice.

“No, but he was bragging a bit, and I’m sure his drink that he made from– what was it? Mirelurk egg yolk? Yeah. I’m sure it’s wonderful, but honestly, Gob, I’ve never had anything compare to that radscorpion venom and mutfruit thing you used to make for me back at Moriarty’s.” 

The poor ghoul smiled so nervously, like it pained him to do so, and Lone felt a pang of regret hit them. 

He hates when I do this…

“No, I’m sure yours is fantastic," they turned back to the bartender, "It’s gotta be, with how used to mirelurk you all must be here on the boat, I’m sure you know what best goes into it and everything, but um… Thank you. For the drinks, they'll be absolutely wonderful, I'm positive. Anyway, have a good night.” 

The blue-eyed brunette across the counter just quirked one brow at the unseemly pair, flashing a small grin as they slid off the stools, drinks in hand as they headed towards one of the small, round tables towards the edge of the restaurant in the middle of the Rivet City marketplace. 

“I’m sorry, Gob. I don’t mean to embarrass you, but…” 

“No, Lone, it’s really alright. Just… not used to all this, is all.” 

“I know.” Their voice was small, their drink neglected, as they only continued swishing it distractedly in their hand. “I wish you were though. I like bragging about you.”

Gob snorted, the sound all the more obvious with his meager nose. 

What’s there to brag about?

He didn’t need to say a word of the negative thoughts spiraling through his head. Lone could see them as plainly on his face as if he’d written them there in red ink. 

A firm clink sounded as they dropped their glass to the table forcefully, and Gob flinched. His grey eyes were cast downwards to the wooden floorboards, his fingers moving restlessly against each other where his hands were clasped together on the table. 

“Sorry.” Lone offered quickly, at his reaction. “But dammit Gob, do you think I would lie to you?”

“W-what?” 

“Do you not trust me?” 

“No, Lone, I trust you with my life, you know that, that’s not the ah… well…” 

“No, but it is, baby.” Gob’s eyes snapped to the contact as Lone’s fingers wound themselves to clasp with his on the tabletop. “You have to believe that I’m telling the truth, that I’m being genuine when I compliment you or brag about you, that I’m not just saying it to make you feel better, or anything. I mean, if you do, that’s a nice benefit, but when I gush about you, I do it because that’s really how I feel.” 

He didn’t even open his mouth to try and respond, just kept his gaze low beneath his furrowed brow. Lone almost spoke up again, until they felt his fingers move over their hand, the textured digits stroking lightly over their knuckles as the thoughts churned in his head. 

They stayed silent, then, and let him think, let him soak in the words they’d spoken, and if they were lucky, let him start to believe them. 

The restaurant slowly grew more busy, as the pair sat there in silence, Lone sipping their drink with one hand, as the other stayed clasped with Gob’s. Low voices began to toil and resonate within the metal walls of the ship as it came to life in the post-work evening. 

“I wish that I did…” Gob finally said, so low, Lone almost thought they’d imagined it. “Believe you, I mean… I wish it were easier, but, the way everyone else has treated me, the way Moriarty…” 

“I know.” They agreed sadly, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze. 

“E-even Nova, I know we seemed close, but… Still, in her face, I could see it. The… disgust.” 

Now Lone flinched, the admittance like the sharp sting of a bloatfly. 

“Some people just don’t know what to say, when they see others who are different, but that doesn’t mean you’re worth any less. That you’re any less of a person. I hope you know that.” 

Gob hummed uncertainly. 

“You seem to be the only one who thinks that way. There’s a reason people call us ghouls, you know?” 

“Well then,” Lone stood up, unclasping their hand from his so they could grab the chair they’d been sitting in across from him, and move it to sit directly beside Gob’s. “I guess I don’t really care what anyone else thinks. Because you’re a person, and even more incredible? You’re a good one. Even after all the shit ‘proper people’ have put you through, you’re still a sweetheart.” 

That forced a smile to his ruined lips, and Gob found himself leaning his head into his partner as they wrapped their arms around him in an all-encompassing sideways hug. 

“Lone…” He said their name with a chuckle, inspiring a delightful smile to pull at their mouth as well, just as they released him from their grasp, ever so slightly, to look into his glinting stormy, ocean eyes. “You sure you’re not an angel or somethin’? Cuz I can hardly believe you’re even real.” 

They blushed so sweetly at that, it made Gob’s stomach flutter. 

“Oh, I’m real, alright. You want me to prove it to ya?” 

Their eyes glittered with a genial sort of mischief, and the pittering in his stomach swelled to a startling jolt, as he felt his own face heat at the way his partner began to lean towards him, the way they looked at him, like he was something to be savored. 

How strange it felt, to be looked at that way… But how wondrous was the feeling that came with it. To be, not only tolerated visually, but wanted, desired, worth savoring. 

Gob felt as though he must be unconscious, to have someone look at him in such a way. It wasn’t– couldn’t be real life. It had to be a vision, a dream. Maybe Moriarty had hit him hard enough this time, maybe he was out for good. 

No matter what it was, he could only hope he lived in this dream forever. 

Without thinking, Gob found himself nodding to Lone’s question with wide eyes.

They grinned, satisfied, and leaned into him. 

The pair had kissed before, sure, and they’d done more than kissing, much to his surprise, and his delight– as nervous as he’d been for it all, but still… Nothing could quite quiet his mind and fill him to the brim with affection and elation like Lone’s sweet kisses. 

He could taste the slight bite of their alcoholic drink on their lips, could revel in the softness of their skin. So close to them, he could smell their familiar scent, the cornflower soap they used and the earthy clay from their boots. He could feel their warmth through their vault suit, where he hadn’t even realized he’d allowed his hands to roam. 

Gob was usually so reserved with his affections, so unsure, even after all this time, that Lone would want him touching their body, but after all they’d said and made clear to him this evening… They were right, he had to believe them. That they wanted this as much as he did, that they found him desirable, that they felt he was worth complimenting, worth bragging about– the way he felt about them. 

There wasn’t a day that’d gone by since he met the vault-dweller that he didn’t talk about them to someone. That he didn’t gush and amateurly wax poetic about their goodness, their kindness, their face, their eyes, their everything that he adored about them, even when they were still but a pleasant stranger. 

And he adored everything. 

Soon enough, the ghoul was completely absorbed in their contact. His hands respectfully wandered, tracing his partner’s soft skin, the seams of their suit; he tilted his head, deepening their kiss with a groan he simply couldn’t hold back, his face heating at the way Lone took that as an invitation to slip their tongue in to brush with his. 

They scooted forward, nearly until they were off their chair, using their hold around his shoulders to brace themselves as they melded their lips with his over and again, pausing only to pull in shallow breaths between the undulating contact. 

Gob wished he could tune everything out forevermore. That it could only be them two, where they both could feel more than adequate in this harsh world. Where he could feel deserving of the love his partner poured into him, where Gob could be beside them without garnering whispered insults and judgemental looks. 

Where they could simply be. 

But that wasn’t possible, he realized again, for the thousandth time, as he heard a dull comment about public indecency from not too far beside him. Then another, from a table behind the pair, about how much, they wondered, was the ghoul paying his partner to be with him, to do this with him. And in public, too. What will the kids think, if they see this sort of contact between the likes of him and that nice, young man/woman? 

Lone pulled away, as they felt Gob failing to reciprocate. 

“Did I get too carried away?” They asked with a breathless chuckle. 

The way Gob’s chest ached at their obliviousness, at their honest question, must have been plain on his face, because the smile Lone wore was soon dashed from their lips. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He shook his head, but his eyes must’ve betrayed him, as the noisy couple behind them continued to make their rude comments. 

“Oh, fucking hell.” 

Lone almost stood up, but Gob’s hand on their arm stopped them. 

“‘S not worth it, Lone.” 

They still simmered in his hold, their eyes alight and their nostrils flared. 

“You know what?” They said, their voice needlessly loud– he can only assume so that it reached the mannerless folks in question.

Gob barely had time to prepare himself, as Lone’s hands tangled in his shirt collar, and they hauled him into another kiss. This one was firm, powerful, as they pressed into him and resumed the ebb and flow of tender touching they’d both been absorbed in only a few moments ago. 

“Lone–” He tried to say through the kiss, his hands gently urging them back so he could speak properly. 

“No.” They said, as they relented, keeping their hands on his shoulders as their expression pleaded with him. 

“Gob, I don’t care if someone sees. If someone sees and doesn’t like. That’s not our problem, it’s theirs.” 

Their searing look was turned pointedly at the couple near to them, before it darted back to him, instantly softening as it set upon his face. 

Despite himself, Gob felt those tingles rise up in his gut again. 

“I love you, Gob, and if I wanna kiss you in public, everyone else can just deal with it, okay?” 

A grin broke out over his face, and Gob felt his hands tighten unwittingly where they rested on his partner’s waist. 

“Okay…” He nodded to them, before leaning in once again, and pressing his lips to theirs. 

This time was a bit more chaste, but only because he felt the overwhelming need to pull away, just for a moment, just to whisper, “And… I love you too, Lone.” 

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

i wana fuck gob

So, the best AND simultaneously worst thing about coming up with headcanons and fics for characters from Fallout 3 is that there's often so little to the characters, canonically. Most of them have pretty scant backstories and characterization. That can be both an opportunity to mold a character to what you'd like them to be and a way to end up with a very contested character no one agrees on anything about.

Don't get me wrong; I like Fallout 3 quite a bit, but in the same way I like Fallout 4, which is "wow this game has some really loveable/memorable/fuckable characters and you can make your own fun, which I don't mind". However, Fallout 4's characters overall have stronger characterization, in my opinion, so it seems like the fan base has a fairly generalized sense of what each character is like. That doesn't seem to be the case with 3, at least sometimes.

***All that to say: if I make any claims about characters you like from Fallout 3 that you disagree with, 1. sorry, and 2. I would love to discuss.

Gob (Fallout 3) NSFW Headcanons

Boundary communication would be HUGE with Gob, but especially for Gob. For decades, he hasn't been allowed to stand up for himself, to even have boundaries, so a long, long chat about consent would be due before the two of you ever did anything. You'll have to make it clear to him that if he doesn't like something, you don't want to do it, so he needs to say something, and that you won't be mad at him for not enjoying something.

This man is SO quiet during sex that it's initially quite unsettling to you. Even when he cums, he's completely silent. He's so used to having to be ridiculously quiet all the time (or else), but especially at a time like this. You may feel the need to take a step or two back in terms of your intimacy until he feels more able to relax, because it would be difficult for you to gauge whether he was enjoying something or not with full confidence. At least, not without constantly having to ask him, which can be a bit of a mood killer if you're not sure the person you're doing things with is enjoying themselves or just going along with it for your sake. No one wants to feel like they're imposing themselves on their partner, and Gob is, as a result of what he's been though, absolutely the type to just lie there and let you have what you want so he doesn't upset you. He insists that he's enjoying himself, that he likes the way you touch him, but you'll have to explain that you need some sort of feedback when you're touching him to ensure you're not hurting him or crossing some boundary. Once he relaxes, he can be quite vocal, but still quiet; mostly hums and sighs.

I think he also struggles to maintain eye contact with literally anyone, and this doesn't improve when he's nervous or being sexually stimulated. He already feels so exposed with you touching him, even if he's still mostly or fully clothed, that eye contact feels like too much a lot of the time. Once you two have been together a while and you've been physical a few times, he may be able to relax enough to look at you when you ask him to (he gets the cutest look on his face when he cums), but his gaze will continue to wander otherwise.

I think you'd be wise to keep things fairly formulaic early on with Gob. Whatever the two of you enjoy, find your rhythm and stay with it for a while; no need to start experimenting or introducing the poor thing to a bunch of new kinks and positions and things he's never experienced while he's over here still trying to relax enough to let you jerk him off without him crying afterwards.

Would agree to try mommy kink stuff with you and then be beyond embarrassed by how much he likes it. Absolutely loves to be babied and treated softly while you take care of him.

Once he's really comfortable with you, and once he's begun to really feel like he has autonomy and safety in his life, he shyly starts to make requests, wants to try things that he's thought about doing with you since the moment he laid eyes on you. Of course, he's nervous, but he's gotten good at communicating his wants and needs at this point. He wants to fuck you on the bar when the place is closed. He wants to cum on your face. He wants you to peg him. He REALLY wants you to peg him.

Lots of early morning sex. He likes to lay in bed and cuddle for a little while before he gets up to open the bar, and, more often than not, that leads to him feeling all warm and appreciative of you, which usually leads to him pulling you on top of him so you can guide his cock inside you, grinding and rolling your hips lazily until you both cum.

Tit man. Not good at hiding the fact that he's oogling your chest from the minute you meet, sort of like a teenage boy, but once he's comfortable with you and it's been established that he's attracted to you, he doesn't really try to hide it.

[pyrettawychwiggin]

'Gobsmacked/Moriarty Must Die'

Because ghouls need love too, dammit.

..................................................................................

- Pairing: Maria Röntgen (Lone Wanderer) & Gob

- Rating: Teen/Young Adult/SFW

'Maria's about to something she can't take back. Before she disappears from Megaton forever, she has time for only a single farewell.'

..................................................................................

Note from the author: this is just a quick snippet of a casual fanfiction project I've been chipping away at since I've started playing through Fallout 3 again! The full version may or may not eventually see the light of day, but I figured I'd put it here in case anyone wants to read it! ~ Py

..................................................................................

A few quick notes:

• the name of the Lone Wanderer in this fanfiction is Maria Röntgen.

• Maria arrived in Megaton the same day she left Vault 101; she's been there for about three weeks, and has since gained a fair amount of goodwill from the people there - even having managed to disarm the bomb.

• Maria had become quite close with a few of the settlers there, but especially with Gob and Nova. She and Nova have had a flirtatious fling ever since she'd arrived, and Maria has been very close to Gob as well, though nothing has happened between them as of yet.

• Maria has never killed someone in cold blood before - but after seeing the amount of damage Moriarty has done, she's made a decision; taking him out will be the last thing she does before she disappears.

• This whole story won't be entirely about Gob and Maria - in fact, there are a few characters she ends up involved with, but Gob very well may be the first.

..................................................................................

Our story begins...

..................................................................................

The inky skies were dark over Megaton, and only the sounds of deep metal groans and aching creaks could be heard in the air. Even the radroaches seemed still and unmoving as an unspoken tension rose into the air.

Gob sighed and hummed an old tune under his breath as he wiped down the counter of the bar for the twenty-third time. Moriarty's Saloon was empty and silent as the grave - the few patrons they had were already tucked away in their beds. He enjoyed the peace on nights like this - no one to torment him, no Moriarty to berate him merely for existing in his presence. He couldn't help but think how life would be much nicer if it could just be like this all the time...

To his surprise, the front door swung open and in walked Maria. She seemed to be moving with a purpose, her head on a swivel as she took a seat right up at the bar.

"Oh, it's you, Maria," Gob let out a breath of relief. "Thought you were someone else for a second. You here for a nightcap?"

"Afraid not, Gob." Her eyes moved behind his shoulder to make sure no one was lingering behind him. "I have to tell you something, but we can't be overheard. Is it safe?"

"Uh, yeah. Everyone's out for night. Even Moriarty's out cold." Gob flung his cloth over his shoulder and leaned forward. "What's going on? Never seen you so strung out."

"I'll have to keep this short and sweet, Gob." Maria pressed her palm over the back of the ghoul's hand, gaining his complete, undivided attention. "I'm leaving Megaton. Tonight. After I take care of some... unfinished business."

"You're leaving?" Gob frowned. "Why? Where're you going?"

"I have to find my father, Gob. And besides," she paused, taking a breath before she continued. "Folks probably won't want me around after tonight."

Gob didn't know what to say - with so many questions in his head, he couldn't decide on which ones to start with. Before he could ask anything, Maria continued.

"Listen, Gob. I can't tell you exactly what I'm about to do, but once it's done, you'll know it. Seeing as how you're likely the one to be the first to find out..." Maria pulled a chip from her inner pocket and placed it in the ghoul's hand. "I want you to take this."

"What is it?"

"It's a confession - for a crime. My confession," Maria frowned, looking up into his eyes. "I know how people get, and I don't want anyone blaming you for what's about to happen, but I need you to promise me something."

"Anything, just name it," Gob whispered, leaning across the bar to listen closer.

"You must not listen to it until sunrise. I can't have you knowing any more than you already do - I didn't even want to involve you this much, but I don't have a choice." Maria squeezes his hand earnestly. "Can you promise me that?"

"But I have so many questions," Gob stuttered, unsure what to think.

"Promise me, Gob." Maria pleaded. "Please."

"Yeah," Gob sighs. "I promise."

Maria's shoulders relaxed as she bowed her head in relief. "Thank you."

"I..." Gob started. "... I don't want you to leave."

"Gob..."

"You're one of the only people around here that's nice to me." Gob shakes his head. "I like having you around."

"I like being around too, Gob. Believe me, leaving you here is one of the hardest parts of this whole situation." Maria places her hand gently on Gob's cheek, making his heart skip a beat. "But what I'm about to do is going to benefit not just you, but all of Megaton."

Gob places a hand on hers, pressing his cheek further against her touch. "I'm gonna miss ya, Smoothskin."

"I'll miss you too, barkeep." Maria leans forward and presses her forehead against his, closing her eyes. "Who knows. Maybe someday when this all blows over, I can come by again. But maybe not."

Gob and Maria stayed like this in silence for a minute before Maria sighed. "It's time, Gob. This is where I leave you." To his surprise, Maria places a soft, lingering kiss on his forehead before pulling away for the last time. "Remember. Not until sunrise."

Gob nods sadly, tucking the chip away in his pocket. He kept his head down, gaze to his feet as he listened to Maria's footsteps start to retreat. He quickly looked up as he heard her rushing towards him. Flinging her arms around his neck, she crashed her lips to his.

He couldn't recall the last time he'd been kissed - and it certainly hadn't been like this. When he managed to shake himself out of his shocked stupor, he snaked his arms around Maria's waist, returning her kiss. His heart thundered against his chest, feeling her pressed up against him, knowing this would probably be the first and last time he'd feel her lips on his.

All too quickly, she draws back, hands lingering on his face for just a moment longer; then just as quickly as she'd come, she rushes out the door and into the night, leaving Gob behind the bar, hardly believing what had just happened.

~ To be continued (maybe)

..................................................................................

If y'all enjoyed this, let me know if it's something you'd like to read more of in the future.

~ Pyretta Wychwiggin

[orangerosethorn]

Radiated Hearts

Gob x My lone, Delmar

[finely-arts]

Fallout Janitor Ai Mega-Post

Hi! I make Janitor Ai and Poe Ai bots for Fallout Characters. Below is my list of characters and the links to each one :) In addition, not only do I take requests but I have a bot that gives updates about what characters I am creating and what bots I am planning. It is here.

𝗙𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝟯 • Gob - x • Charon - x • Desmond Lockheart - x • James - x 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐭: 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐕𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐬 • Legate Lanius - x • Legate Lanius [You are given to him as a gift] - x • Raul Tejeda - x • Craig Boone - x • Dean Domino - x • Dean Domino [Added additional Backstory] - x • Arcade Isreal Gannon - x • Vulpes Inculta - x • Vulpes Inculta [He Tortures You] - x • Ulysses - x • Ulysses [ Shorter Version ] - x 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝟒 • Paladin Danse - x • Paladin Danse [Meets Lone Wanderer] - x

[slashingdisneypasta]

Dorothy Must Die!Tin Woodman x Fem!Lion'sWarrior!Reader || Drabble

Plot: The Lion 'lends' you to the Tin Woodman for a day after his own second-in-command is forced to go to the Scarecrow for repairs. And you're perceptive, and you're blunt. And you try to tell the Woodman a couple things that he... just doesn't want to hear.

You also may be developing a fondness for him.

Warnings: N/A.

Tagging: @marinerainbow. You havent specifically said to tag you in Tin Woodman stuff but... I assumed... 😅😅😅 I hope that was okay!! XD ^^

The Tin Woodman didn't require a lot of help throughout the day, so you aren't completely sure why your King needed you to accompany him when his actual number 2 was hurt earlier in the day. He makes all orders himself; all he needs from you is to hold his oil can in case of accidents with water (Or crying, the Lion told you. He's an awful cryer. But you haven't seen any sign of the Tin Woodman crying. You couldn't even imagine that. He's so... emotionless).

Though, you do wonder if the man is lonely, and thats why he requires a companion all day... you see the way he looks at Queen Dorothy. You both went into the throne room earlier while Dorothy was 'speaking to' (Sentencing) a poor munchkin woman, and you saw it clear as day; the longing in his metal eyes when she talked. And even more then that, you felt the air shift back to monotonous as soon as he left the room with her in it, again. You hadn't even realised it had lightened in the first place when she was near, but you couldn't miss it now. He was brighter with her, happier. But... it was in a sad sort of way. Because, clearly, she did not know.

In the forest everyone's quite honest with each other. Animals don't pretend to feel a way about each other that they don't- and, having been raised in the forest by tigers, you were just the same. You don't understand why the Tin Woodman wouldn't just... tell her he's in love with her. Lay it all out on the table. Its clearly eating at him, and even if she tells him she's not interested then at least he can begin to move on... find a more suitable mate...

For, at least in your opinion, the Tin Woodman was quite an... agreeable gentleman. Tall, strong, sensible. A little bit too uptight for your tastes, but... you're sure plenty a lovely lady would be happy to be his mate; be that a munchkin, human, beast, metal creature or any other walk of life he may be interested in.

Over lunch, you tell him as such.

~

"What???" The Woodman seemed startled, hearing you say such things so boldly; a confused look on your face at his fluster. "You- what??"

He didn't have to eat, but he acknowledged that you did - as an organic creature,- , so he had stood by the table you were eating your porridge at quite patiently, and calmly... though now his shoulders were hiked up and his eyes were open wide. "I think you're a very handsome tin-man, and quite a gentleman. You should just tell Dorothy how you feel."

"... this is inappropriate. You shouldn't be so forward with me, you know." He tries to act un-bothered by your words, but you just wait a few moments- and he cracks, turning to you fully. "-and how do you know of my feelings or her majesty Dorothy?? Did Lion tell you???"

"No, my King told my nothing. I saw it myself." You admit bluntly, scooping a mouthful of porridge into your gob.

"What do you mean you saw it???" His voice goes slightly higher in horror and mortification, and a little grin spreads across your face despite how you probably shouldn't laugh at him right now. Or at all.

So he's not so completely serious, then. Thats... endearing.

"You're not very good at hiding it."

"Whats- what's with the smiling?? Why are you sm- " Suddenly he remembers himself, and straightens his posture once again. "Never mind. You cant understand the depths of my feelings for the Queen, or hers for me. You're just a merry Ozian." At that, you cringe. He believes she has feelings for him?? Oof, thats... rough... So rough, in fact, that you let that belittling statement of his slide. There was absolutely no love in that girl's eyes. "Or, furthermore, how difficult it would be for us to manage a relationship in this political climate. After all, I am her general."

"Right... " You nod, forcing an agreement and turning your focus fully to your bowl of sloppy porridge. He's more deluded than you thought, so maybe you should just let him go. Breaking a crazy person out of their delusions can be dangerous!

But he hears the disbelieving tone in your voice, and swivels his head around to you again. He cant help himself. "What was that?"

"Absolute nothing, sir, I'm just going to finish my lunch and we can go about your business once again."

"Mmm... " He grumbles to himself, but gives a nod. "Maybe you should."

You manage a few large mouthfuls, almost finishing, before the poor Tin Man cant handle it and actually moves to sit down opposite you; setting you with a stern look and folding his formidable hands carefully on the table before him. Considering his height, you still had to crane your neck to look at him, but you appreciate the gesture he's made, all the same. "I order you to speak. Why did you sound so sarcastic?"

"I didn't- "

"I thought your people didn't lie."

... hmph. "Fine. You're right, and I hated it." After giving it a moments thought, you decide to be frank with him. "I just... don't think the Queen, as deeply as she may care for you which I'm sure she does, thinks... That, of you. You are her old friend, and thats all. And I don't think you should be disappointed, either, sir, because as far as love goes- thats plenty."

The Tin Woodman continues to look sternly at you, so deeply and stonily that you might think that he were made of rock and not tin at all, in fact... and he's so quiet as he thinks that you swear you hear his heart tick-tock-ticking inside his chest... until, finally, the man takes in a deep whistling breath through his pins-and-needles mouth, that you aren't quite sure he actually needs (Being made of tin, and all), and lifts his laser focused eyes off of you. Its a small relief, and you take your own breath as you relax.

"... And how do you suppose to prove these assumptions?"

That gives you pause. Makes you hesitate. Prove??? You're not in a court right now, you're just talking. "I- well-... I guess I cant." Giving a shrug, you put down your spoon; Officially finished with your lunch; Put off it by the Tin Man's way of thinking, which is rather too Official, for your tastes. Too human and pompous, especially for a man made entirely out of tin. Then you add, with certainty and conviction: "I saw it in her eyes."

-immediately the Tin Woodman starts to shake, and you're worried about him, until you realise that he's chuckling. This man is c h u c k l i n g- at you. Baffled, you watch him with frustration, barely noticing the munchkin servants around you flash you both boggled and horrified glances; having never seen the Tin Man laugh. "Oh... " He sighs, using the blunt edge of one of his terrible fingers to scrape a loose tear away from the corner of his eye before it can get into any joints. "Good, because I was quite afraid for a moment, there."

Your jaw drops. "Excuse m- "

"Miss." The Woodman cuts you off, and you immediately - obediently, - shut your mouth. All humour had disappeared from the metal man's visage as quickly as it had appeared, and once again he was as serious as could be. "I suggest you finish your meal, and build up your strength. We have a long day to go, yet, and- "

"I know what I'm talking about, Mr. Dorothy does not love you." You insist, eyes wide and earnest to which he just nods, humming. "She doesn't."

"Mhm." His stubbornness is just as tough as his skin!!

"Mr Woodman- "

"I suppose you're finished." He cuts you off again, picking up your bowl and setting it on the platter that a nearby munchkin is waiting with after getting up from the table. "Off we go." As swiftly as the bulky tin can is able, he turns on his heels and marches off down a hallway; and you have no choice but to follow after him despite your irritation. About halfway down the hall though, he suddenly stops and swivels around again (His upper body turning and leaving his legs facing the way he was going, before bending down at the waist in order to meet your eye), making you stop very suddenly as well as to not run right into him and hurt yourself. "Out of curiosity, if Dorothy and I weren't meant to be, which we are, who in your All Knowing opinion, would I possibly give all this love over to? I asked for a heart from the wizard all those seasons ago for a reason-- it wouldn't do, to let it all go to waste, now would it?"

... at this, you're speechless. Well, anyone, right?? Anyone who wanted it in return. Your lips part, but no words come out at first. What an odd question.

"... suddenly speechless? Nothing to say now all of a sudden, little Ozian?" He asks, and if you didn't know any better- teased. With his head lowered and rearing down so close to yours so the smell of oil fills your head and make you a little bit dizzy, and the playful and challenging tone in his voice, he's Almost... almost... "Colour me shocked." He's... almost...

"Well I'm sure I don't know, specifically." You say, straightening up. "Anyone, I suppose."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Anyone?"

"Yes." ... almost... something... to you...

... slowly a nearly-unseemly smirk spreads across the well-shined underbite of sharp and pointy nightmares he calls a mouth and a flutter erupts in the pit of your belly. You're shocked, and can only stand there with your eyes wide on him and your lips parted. "... well I'll keep that in mind." Then in an instant, the smirk is gone and he turns his back on you again; replacing his Almost-ness with that regular sensible general-sona he wears for Dorothy. But the fluttering inside you doesn't go away with it, eyes on him. "Anyway, lets go. Much work to do for Dorothy!"

He marches off, and you follow him, wondering what on earth this feeling is and how to get rid of it and when you can go back to your King.

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 1: Leather with Charon

Pairing: Charon x Reader/Lone Wanderer (Neither (Y/n) nor LW names used) Word Count: 3650 Warnings: Leather kink, Oral (F receiving), vaginal fingering, P in V sex, unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it), aftercare, lil bit of dirty talk, feelings (These bitches in love). Kinktober Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

My arms ached as we trudged through the metal door to our shared home in Megaton, the sound of Charon closing and locking it behind himself followed me up the stairs as my heavy feet carried me to my bedroom to drop my pack before I went to prepare the pair of us some dinner before the inevitable crash that always came after weeks on the dusty roads of the Capitol Wasteland.

“Bring your guns down with you, they need maintenance.” His low gravelly voice broke the non-silence of the house as I was shucking my Tunnel Snakes jacket off, preparing to change into lounge clothes.

The deep timbre of his voice sent a shiver down my spine that I was too tired to acknowledge right then.

“Yeah.” I called back before unzipping and messily stripping out of my vault suit, leaving it and my boots in a heap on the floor for tomorrow me to deal with, it needed washing anyway so it’s not like a night on the floor will hurt anything.

The worn soft material of my Brahmin skin pants was a welcome change from the skintight blue I’d been wearing for the last two weeks. It was a good thing that at this point Charon and I were used to each other’s smells, because I was sure I reeked, but bathing, just like laundry, would have to be a problem for future me.

With my pistol and assault rifle in hand I made my way back downstairs with heavy steps, softened by the Brahmin leather house shoes I now wore. “What sounds good? I’m thinking a couple cans of cram?” I asked the room at large, though I could see him sitting on the couch with his shotgun already in pieces.

“Got anymore of Jenny’s Mirelurk cakes in the fridge?” He asked, a question of such casual nature would have been unheard of 6 months ago, when it was like pulling teeth to get any kind of verbal acknowledgement from the large ghoul, but we hadn’t been quite so close then.

“I think so, don’t know if they’re still any good.” I made a face, though he wasn’t looking at me, I was trying not to look at him as I set my weapons on the couch next to him that was for certain.

I knew he was still wearing his leather armor, and out on the road there were enough distractions to keep me from thinking about how he looked, the way the thick material wrapped around and stretched over his muscular arms, the slight creak it would give when he flexed just right, and the way it made my lower belly feel like fire in the best way.

But here at home, where we were safe? There was nothing to help keep me from staring, nothing to help keep my brain occupied and not thinking about how much I desperately want to fuck my partner, a title that we’d agreed to use after a test run to make sure the mental conditioning wouldn’t cause him any issues.

It was right around that time that he started opening up more, about himself and just in general, like a switch had been flipped. Now, he still isn’t the chatty type, still content to stand behind me and stare menacingly while I do all the talking, but that was for the better, he’s not much of a people person.

And as he opened up, the schoolgirl style crush I’d gained on the man had evolved and after a near death experience I’d admitted to it, which resulted in…Whatever we were now, more than fuckbuddies, but the L word hasn’t been uttered though there were definitely feelings involved, I guess one could call it ‘going steady’ but we don’t exactly go on dates, seeing as the only options for that would be to go to Gob’s Saloon or the Brass Lantern, and we have booze and food at home, but I digress! The important part is that we haven’t taken any physical steps yet.

I’d asked about it once, why he hadn’t put the moves on me the way boys in the Vault had before they decided that I was untouchable. He’d said that he’d been around for a long time, and he was content to take our time, go at whatever pace I needed, and when I was ready, he was too.

At the time I’d been thankful for that. I’m no virgin, but this was a much deeper relationship than any other I’d ever had, so I didn’t want to fuck it all up by jumping into bed too fast, but it’s been 3 months and I was getting antsy, and that damn leather armor wasn’t helping!

It drove me insane, and it made it harder to keep my mouth shut, especially when he took off the top half and left the pants on, usually when he had to make repairs to a shoulder pad or something, giving me a beautiful view of the plains of his chest and back, rough patches of scarred skin over thick muscle that I knew was for far more than show.

“(Y/n)?” His voice saying my name damn near had a whimper falling from my lips as I snapped out of my thoughts to realize I’d been leaning against the counter staring at him this whole time. Shit, real fucking smooth Rad-for-brains…

“Hmm?” It came out a little dumb in my efforts to sound casual.

“You okay?” He sounded so genuinely concerned and it made my chest ache a little, still unused to being cared for.

“Yeah, why?” I asked, voice a little higher pitched than necessary as I turned to get our dinner ready, sniffing the plate of Mirelurk cakes and nearly gagging at the smell. “The cakes went bad.” I announced, still trying to sound casual, but then I heard him moving behind me.

“I said your name three times before you answered me.” He said from much closer than the couch, and a look over my shoulder revealed that he was standing in all his black leather glory about three feet from me. “And you were making the face you make when you’re thinking about something.”

I make a thinking face? And he noticed it? Could he get any more perfect?

“It’s nothing, just getting lost in thought, you know how I get when I’m tired.” I shrugged, and it was true, I turn into a total space-brain when I get too tired.

The sound of him moving met my ears and I could feel his heat at my back, he was close to me now, probably less than a foot away. “That wasn’t your space-brain face.” He said lowly, inches from my ear. “Talk to me.” I felt his rough hand wrap around my forearm soothingly, the warm weight was grounding and it made something zing down my spine when I saw the black sleeve of his shirt.

Setting down the unopened can of Cram I let out a sigh and closed my eyes. “Leather.” I said, like it would explain everything.

“Leather?” He repeated and I could picture his confused face.

“Your armor, the leather…It…” I let out another sigh, harsher this time as I got annoyed with my inability to just say it. “Your leather armor turns me on. Like really bad, and I can’t stop thinking about it and how much I want you to pin me down and fuck me within an inch of my life every time I see you in it.” The words came out in a rush, but I was sure it was clear and coherent enough for him to understand, he’s always been good at deciphering my ramblings.

I felt him get closer, till his chest pressed into my back, pinning me between him and the counter. “Do you want me to do something about it?” He had, voice somehow lower than ever before and husky and his breath is hot on my neck as his free hand wraps around the curve of my hip and gives a gentle squeeze of the softness there.

My brain ground to a pleasant halt at his words and actions, words seemed miles away now, so I nodded instead, and he let out a quiet “Tsk” before he turned me to face him, wasting no time to crowd back into me once he had me where he wanted me. “Words, Baby…Need to hear you say it.”

His foggy blue eyes were burning into mine with a heat that I’d seen before but hadn’t been able to name, usually after he watched me do something smart like hack a terminal or talk our way to a better bounty for a job, now I knew the name, it was lust.

“Please, do something about it.” The words were so quiet I was worried I’d only mouthed them for a moment, but then a small slow smile curled the corners of his lips before he leaned down and pressed them to mine.

We’d kissed before, plenty of times, usually in the privacy of camp or here at home, but it was normally just little pecks, never proper making out, and certainly nothing like this. His lips were as rough as they always were, but he moved slow, like he was savoring it as much as I was. He had his hand on my chin to tilt my head back for a better angle as he tilted his head to the side, running his tongue over my lower lip, pulling a soft gasp from me that he used as an opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth.

My hands, which had felt almost numb hanging at my sides seemed to find their life again as one came to rest on his chest, curling around one of the pads of his armor and into the fabric, while the other rested on his cheek tenderly, thumb brushing back and forth along his cheekbone.

He had an almost death grip on my hip, keeping me pulled flush to his body, letting me feel every curve and angle he had to offer though the thickness of his clothes, which included the very solid presence in the front of his pants, the realization of which made my pussy ache for him.

Taking some initiative, I pressed my hips to his, grinding as best I could with our height difference, and he let out a shuddering breath, soft and warm against my lips.

I felt his muscles flex under his armor seconds before he was lifting me, a hand under my ass while the other held my thigh, prompting me to wrap my legs around his waist as he pulled back from the counter and started toward the stairs, taking me with him.

As we went, I set to work undoing the buckles and belts of his armor, determined to feel and see more of him.

By the time he was laying me out on my bed, the door kicked closed behind us, all he had to do was shrug out of his shirt, which he did before dropping to his knees between my legs, hanging off the edge of the bed.

His hands deftly worked my pants off, slipping them slowly down my legs to reveal I wasn’t wearing anything under them, giving him a perfect view of my slickened pussy.

I watched him lean in then stop inches from contact to look up at me, gazes locking, pupils dilated and questioning, like he thought that I would stop him now of all times. I nodded my assent, and he wasted not a second more before diving in, pressing kisses first to my thighs, still plush from my time in the Vault but more muscular than they had been from all the walking.

The kisses turned into bites that punched a moan from my lips, my hand flying down to grip his where it wrapped around the outside of my thigh, I felt rather than saw him smirk before he ran his tongue from the bottom of my cunt to the top where it flicked my clit, sending a zing through my body.

“Just started and your thighs are already shaking…” He murmured before repeating his previous action, making my back arch a little. “God you’re perfect.” He sounded like he was saying it more to himself than to me, and I was too lost in him to respond anyway. “All this just from some kissing and seeing me in leather…” He chuckled teasingly. “Poor thing, you’ve been desperate for so long, haven’t you?” He looked back up at me, waiting for my response, but as I managed to put together words, he slipped a thick finger into me and curled it into something that made me cry out. “I could live off the sounds you make.”

He set a slow rhythm, a steady in and out, curling on the way out into that spot over and over while continuing to flick over my clit. I could feel the knot building in my belly, and he must have noticed because he added a second finger and went from flicking to sucking.

“Fuck! Charon…!” I whimpered, grip on his hand tightening as he drove me up the hill faster than I’d ever managed on my own.

“Come on, pretty, give it to me…” He coaxed slowly, the low timbre of his voice nearly ended me right then, but no, it was the way his eyes never strayed from mine, the expanse of blue so open and waiting. I tumbled off the cliff in a show of whimpers and gasps, thighs shaking and eyes rolling closed. “There it is, atta girl.” His fingers slowed but didn’t stop, letting me ride out my orgasm.

Once I’d started teetering on the edge of overstimulation I tugged his hand, a wordless request for him to join me on the bed, one heeded with a sweet curl to his lips. He settled over me, hips resting between my thighs, the tight leather rubbing against the slowly bruising skin, and pressed a kiss to my forehead, then another on my cheek, then my nose, then finally his lips met mine and I sighed into the contact, pressing up into him with my whole body, thighs tightening on his hips in an effort to pull him closer.

He let out a shuddery breath as he rolled his hips down against me, the smooth front of his pants delivering sweet friction to my sensitive clit. “Charon…” I breathed his name to get his attention and his eyes cleared as they locked on me, waiting patiently for whatever I was going to say. “Please…” I pleaded, and both of us knew exactly what I was asking for.

His eyes grew hazy once more as his lips pressed to my neck softly, leaving a tender trail down to the hem of my shirt, where his hands followed to tug it up and off, baring me fully to his hungry eyes.

He wasted no time in continuing the sweet trail of kisses down to my chest, where he latched onto one of my nipples to give it a soft suck, the other not left neglected as his hand came to cup it, a rough thumb brushing over the pebbled tip.

He only lingered there for a few moments before sitting up, giving me a full view of his muscular chest and tummy laden with a layer of fat that made him look soft yet didn’t detract from the powerful strength I knew he possessed, and for a moment I wondered if he’d had a happy trail in the same shade of red as his hair before he went ghoul, but that thought lasted only till my eyes met the edge of those damned leather pants, where his hands were working the front open.

As if sensing that I was neither willing to wait that long nor have him move away long enough to fully remove them, he just shoved them down far enough to free his cock, letting out a sigh as the pressure that the front his pants was putting on him was relieved.

He truly is beautiful, all hard plains of scarred muscle and hands that were only gentle for me, light eyes that see into my soul and lips that make my heart sing. I could die a happy woman if it was in his arms.

He stroked his cock a couple times, spreading the precum that had clearly been leaking for a bit over the whole length, my fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch, but I knew neither of us had the patience for that right now, and there would be time later, so instead I let out a hum to get his attention.

The diamonds that made up his eyes flashed up to meet mine at the sound, looking half as if he expected something to be wrong and half like he could fall off the edge of sanity at any moment; I understood the feeling.

When I let out another hum and shifted my hips against him the worry in his gaze turned to understanding and he let out what might have been a chuckle if not for his breathlessness.

Shifting his knees where they pressed into the mattress just under my thighs, he leaned down till his face was inches from mine, so close we could share breaths, and pressed the tip to me, not pushing in, but a firm presence.

I only had eyes for him as he held there, he searched my face for a moment before seeming to find what he was looking for and pressing in slowly.

He was thick, thicker than anyone else I’d ever been with, but then he was also the largest man I’d ever seen, so it made sense.

There was a slight burning stretch that a depraved part of me loved, knowing it would leave an ache for the next day or so after we were done, and it made a pleased whimper shiver its way out of me, hands gripping his shoulders to pull him closer while my legs wrapped around him, unable to meet in the middle to lock ankles, but he seemed to understand what I was trying to do as he bottomed out.

He stayed there for a couple moments; forehead pressed into the crook of my neck as his breaths came in ragged puffs that warmed my already flushed skin. It took a moment for it to dawn on me what he was doing.

He was trying not to cum.

I ran my hands up and down his shoulders, arms, the back of his neck, anywhere I could reach soothingly, content to stay like this as long as he needed.

After a couple moments he pulled his face from its hiding spot, eyes half lidded and dark as he looked down at me. He looked like a starving man that’s been given a feast.

I barely had time to react to the shudder that that look sent through me before he was rolling his hips into me, a slow in and out, the curve of his cock brushing hard against that same spot from before on the out stroke and reaching my deepest point on every in stroke.

There was no control to be had over the sounds coming from between my lips, whimpers and gasps and half-finished cries of his name were carried on every breath, and he was no different as he let out soft grunts and sighs, eyes rolling back for a second before locking back on mine once more, like he couldn’t bear the thought of not watching me fall apart under him.

All too soon I felt the building of that sweet release, and just like before he could tell, as one hand, which had been pressed into the mattress next to my head, moved down to make tight circles over my still oversensitive clit, causing me to arch up into him with a sharp gasp.

The climb up the hill was shorter this time, and the plunge off the edge was grander as my vision went white and my body was wracked in shakes. At some point tears began to fall, leaving lines in the dust that still clung to my face from our time on the road.

I had barely enough wherewithal to feel the flood of heat that filled me as he followed me right off that cliff.

When I came back to earth, it was to the feeling of his weight carefully rested on me, most of it on his knees where they rested on either side of my body, and an arm resting next to my head, the other hand now running through my hair slowly.

Turning my head, I found him looking at me, eyes soft.

“Hi…” I whispered, voice a little hoarse from breathlessness.

A gentle smile curled his lips, eyes shining with mirth. “Hey…” He returned, the depth of his voice sending a rumble through my body.

I curled around him as best I could from my position, not caring that his softening cock was slowly slipping from me to free the mess that I knew he’d made of my insides.

We stayed like that, basking in each other for a while, before he got up to get a rag and a can of purified water. When he returned, he gently cleaned me up, then himself, then made me drink half the can before laying back down with me.

I was on the edge of sleep when his voice broke the silence. “So, leather huh?” He teased, and I could hear his smirk.

Sleep became a thing for later as peals of our laughter filled the darkness, light and happy.

[yabanil]

me scouring the internet for gob x lone wanderer fanfiction and then falling into a moral dillema of 'how old is gob' and 'why the hell would he even be interested in a 19 year old' self insert isteklerim suya düştü. içimde mutsuzluk var başka hiç bişey yok

[distractedrighter]

The Lone Wanderer and The Tunnel Snake, Chapter 2: Daddy Lied

Universe: Fallout 3

Pairing: f!Lone Wanderer x Butch DeLoria

Rating: T

Prompt: Felicity escapes Vault 101 in pursuit of her father, and her childhood bully follows suit. A reimagining of Fallout 3, but if Butch was by your side the entire time. 

Chapter Summary: Felicity and Butch make their way to Megaton in search of James. 

Warnings: None, yet. 

Tags: Enemies to friends to lovers

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32799556/chapters/81392401#workskin

[embeanwrites]

I Need You! Butch DeLoria x Reader

TW: Butch curses

Masterlist

It had been two miserable weeks since she had shot Butch in the shoulder in order to slow him down from trying to stop her from going into the purifier. He should’ve been mad that she shot him, but it was a clean shot, just grazed his shoulder enough to stun him and buy her some time. She knew what she was doing. It made Butch think she had planned this all along. 

Why take him around the miserable wasteland if she was just going to fucking kill herself in the end? 

Butch wasn’t a patient man, but he stayed in her room at the Citadel. Hoping if he stared at her long enough, she’d wake up and tell him to take a fucking picture. 

He groaned and laid back in his uncomfortable chair. He had already counted the number of tiles on the ceiling at least a hundred times. Scribes came and went, urging him to get some air and warning him that she may not wake up. She never gave up on the wasteland, he sure as hell wasn’t going to give up on her. He only left to grab food and to take quick showers. He probably looked like utter shit. 

“You gotta wake up. I miss you so fucking much.” He whispered. 

It was as if his words held some sort of magic because for the first time she started shifting and groaning. Butch stood up so fast his chair hit the ground with a bang. Her eyes shot open as she blinked a bunch, her eyes straining to see what was happening. 

“Butch?” Her voice sounded as if her throat was made up of sandpaper, but to him it was the sweetest sound. He stood frozen looking at her.

“Fuck you.” He whispered, hoarsely. She smiled and laid her head back. 

“I’m sorry I shot you.” She whispered. 

“I thought you were fucking dead!” He shouted, she flinched at his words, but remained silent. She was stunned by his reaction. “You should’ve let me or someone else fucking go in there! Why are you so fucking adament about killing yourself! You’re not allowed to die on me! People fucking care about and need you! I need you, (Y/n)!” His voice cracked at the end. Two weeks of this bullshit piling up. He looked back at her, her eyes were watering and looking at her hands. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. “I had to do it for my dad. I had to, Butch.” Looking at her, he felt all the air deflate out of him. This is what he wanted, for her to come back to him and he immediately started yelling at her. He picked up his chair and sat as close to her as he could. He couldn’t look at her face, terrified she would be able to read him like an open book. 

“I was scared, nosebleed. I hadn’t been that scared since I first left the vault. I thought I was going to lose you.” She moved her hand to cup his jaw. 

“I’m here.” She whispered. He closed his eyes tightly. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” He nodded and she laughed. 

“What?” He snapped at her. 

“I missed you too.” She gently put her hand under his, brushing her thumb across his knuckles. “I am sorry. I want to promise I won’t do anything stupid again, but- “

“But we both know you’d break it within the next 24 hours.” Butch finally locked eyes with her and they both smiled. 

“I told you at Rivet City, I’m dangerous.” 

“Dangerously stupid.” She scoffed. 

“You told me to stop being a goody two shoes, DeLoria.” 

“Whatever, nosebleed.” Butch felt her squeeze his hand. 

“Thanks for staying with me.” Butch felt his throat tighten as she gently pulled him down to kiss his nose. “When I get out of here, we’re going straight home. I promised Gob I would tell him all about meeting Herbert Daring Dashwood.”

“God, nosebleed. Will you ever stop doing things for other people?” He scoffed. 

“You know the answer to that, DeLoria.” They both smiled, of course he knew the answer. He wanted to tease her some more, but she looked exhausted and he was just happy she was back. He stood up slowly and kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger as he started to whisper. 

“Get some sleep, nosebleed. We’ve got some long days ahead of us.”

[eeveevie]

loose lips

Rosie just wants to have a quiet night of studying, but that changes when she learns Butch is causing a ruckus at Moriarty's Saloon. After collecting him and taking him home, he says a lot more than he intended while under the influence.

Unprompted, but I’ve been sitting on this idea for a long while. I make reference to this in a few of my other one-shots since I go back and forth between pre-relationship and developing-relationship fics for these two. 

Butch DeLoria x Rosie Sheridan (Lone Wanderer)

3200 words | [read on Ao3]

Sitting upstairs in Craterside Supply, Rosie was immersed in her research, reading over the extensive notes she had taken after investigating the colony of mirelurks in the Anchorage Memorial. The work on the Wasteland Survival Guide was a welcome distraction, allowing her to keep her mind busy until the Brotherhood provided her with a solid lead on where to find a G.E.C.K. Moira had set up the private sanctuary in her shop a few months ago, more than happy to give the vault-dweller a quiet place to study. Even though Rosie had her own residence within Megaton, it was difficult to get any work done when she had Butch DeLoria as a housemate.

Ever since finding him in Rivet City, he’d been her constant companion—annoying and distracting at first, but gradually became someone she could rely on. He made an effort to be less of a jerk, owning up to the mistakes of his youth, and performing thoughtful gestures of kindness for her unprompted. Rosie wouldn’t admit it aloud, but it was nice having him around. The more she got to know him as her friend, the more she realized they had a lot in common. Unexpected from the boy who used to stick gum in her hair. Now, he watched her six with a loaded pistol and cooked her breakfast (sometimes—when he remembered to set an alarm, that is). She liked him—a lot more than she wanted to.

Rosie could hear Moira teasing her about the redness in her cheeks—little red potatoes—all dreamy-voiced as she expressed desires for the two to ‘circle up’ and have babies. Assuming by the order of things, it had to be Wasteland slang for marriage, which was horrifying for so many reasons. Maybe it was a bad idea to confide in her shopkeeper friend about her potential feelings for Butch. Now she’d never hear the end of it when all she wanted was peace and quiet.

Just as Rosie refocused on the lines in her journal, the metal door to the shop creaked open, disrupting her train of thought—descended from local crabs, I’d call them…

Moira’s chipper voice echoed downstairs. “You’re back so soon?”

Rosie glanced to her Pip-Boy to confirm it was past store hours. She grumbled to herself, wondering if Butch had gotten bored and decided to come collect her for a more fun activity—it wouldn’t be the first time. Distracting, she reminded herself, for completely different reasons than before. She didn’t want to parade around town with his arm slung around her shoulder—or did she?

“Ugh,” she groaned, hand sliding across her face and smudging her glasses. Rosie stood and leaned over the railing, prepared to reprimand her companion when she realized Butch wasn’t even the one standing in the doorway.

Mitch, Craterside Supply’s mercenary was disgruntled as ever, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed. Moira paused from cleaning the countertop to look at him, giving him the full attention she gave anyone she talked to.

“It’s your night off, Mitch! Shouldn’t you be enjoying it instead of standing there like you always do?” she ended her sentence with an easy sounding laugh, something Rosie wished she could emulate.

The merc muttered something incoherently, lips set in a fine line when he regarded his employer. How the two got along was anybody’s guess. Rosie imagined it had something to do with the frequent exchange of caps—though, Moira’s glowing personality seemed to melt even the coldest of hearts.

“There’s a problem at Moriarty’s,” Mitch explained, briefly.

“Oh no!” the redhead exclaimed, more intensely than the mercenary expected. “Is everybody alright?”

Mitch let out a deep sigh and let his eyes roam to where Rosie was perched, silently eavesdropping on their conversation in clear view. She sheepishly backed away before stepping back, realizing it was a little late to pretend she hadn’t been listening. He gestured to her with a jutted-out thumb.

“It’s that other vault-kid you like so much,” he said, with just enough distain in his voice it verged on resentment. Rosie wanted to smile, thinking the mercenary was jealous of Moira’s affections towards the younger visitors. Her mind was preoccupied, however, when she realized he was talking about Butch. “That boy can’t hold his liquor. He’s no Jericho, but he’s still a rowdy drunk.”  

Rosie felt a rush of disappointment at the information. She had hoped that Butch would stop spending so much of his free time at the Megaton saloon, wasting his caps on alcohol. This behavior seemed like a step back in the wrong direction, backsliding into his old, rebellious ways. Maybe she was wrong to think that people could change—that Butch could change. Regardless of how tumultuous she felt at the moment, Rosie knew she couldn’t sit idly by. So much for staying in and studying.

“I’ll go,” she said as she descended the stairs. “Before something worse happens.”

Mitch smirked. “Moriarty already had him drink the moonshine, and we all know what’s in that.”

“Oh, my poor sweet potato,” Moira cooed, tilting her head to the side in a sympathetic gesture. Rosie pressed a hand to her mouth, trying not to retch at the thought—she’d heard the rumors—and sent a silent prayer, hoping they weren’t true on Butch’s behalf. Her shopkeeper friend looked at her. “Do you need any help?”

Rosie shook her head, doubting that either of them would be of any real assistance. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Moira. Thank you again.”

“You’re very welcome,” she replied with a bright grin. “Take care of widdle Butch, now, okay?”

Rosie could only nod and fled from the building before her friend could embarrass her with any suggestive comments or innuendo. The last thing she needed was for the mercenary to know about her unrequited crush.

Moriarty stood outside his establishment as Rosie approached, smoke in hand as he overlooked the night sky. He noticed her just as she made to slip by to the entrance, in no mood to want to speak to the surly man.

“Aye, if it isn’t Miss Sheridan,” he crooned, feigning pleasantries. “Here to collect yer loverboy?”  

She huffed, clenching her fingers into fists before relaxing. Better to kill him with kindness, she reminded herself. “I hope he hasn’t been too disruptive,” she said, forcing a smile.

“The boys’ entertaining, I’ll give ‘em that,” Moriarty replied. “See for yerself. May haf to hire ‘em for the bar—”

Rosie turned on her heel, tuning out his accented words as she pushed through the sturdy metal door to the bar. She rarely visited the saloon, and the stench of booze and nicotine overwhelmed her as soon as she crossed the threshold. Immediately she found who she was looking for, sitting at the bar with his back to her so all she could see was the Tunnel Snakes embroidery. Butch. He was hunched over the counter, empty beer bottles and glasses surrounding his frame. It had only been a few hours since she’d last seen him, but apparently he’d been busy.

“One—one mrr,” he slurred at Gob, who stared at him with a mix of pity and annoyance. “Jus one!”

The ghoul bartender sighed, shaking his head. “Kid, you ever hear of alcohol poisoning?”

“Wha-uh?”

Gob noticed Rosie standing in the entranceway and relaxed, though his expression became much more sympathetic. “Better sober up, unless you want to disappoint your best gal.”

Butch perked up, swiveling around in the barstool so fast that he nearly toppled out of the seat altogether. She rushed to steady him, wincing at how much heavier he seemed—maybe it was all the beer and whiskey. With one arm wrapped around his torso, she held him upright against the bar.

“Stitches!” he greeted, awkwardly slinging an arm around her shoulder and dragging her close for a sideways hug. “Here!”

She nodded, choosing to ignore him for the moment and glanced to Gob who was studying their exchange. “Did he drink all these?” she asked, pointing to the display bottles.

“Sure did,” Gob answered. “Would not stop talking about growing up in the vault, and then leaving the vault. Talked a lot about you, actually.”

Rosie blinked, her heartrate steadily increasing. “What?”

The bartender gave a dismissive shrug. “But then he started singing, which soured the mood.”

Despite herself, Rosie smiled, amused by the thought. Plus, he’d been talking about her—she didn’t know what about, and he’d been drinking—but that certainly made her emotions aflutter.

“You’re cute when you smile, Stitches,” Butch mumbled, head titled to the side as he stared up at her with a sideways, dreamy smile.

Rosie instantly felt her face flood with heat. Gob smirked at the two and all she desperately wanted was to get out of sight from him and Butch. Speechless, she fumbled through her skirt pockets for a handful of caps, placing them on the counter, implying it was for the mess and for any unpaid drinks. She tightened her hold around Butch’s waist, holding onto the arm wrapped around her shoulder as counter-balance as she hoisted him from the barstool.

Gob watched the two. “Got him?”

“Ssshe’s got me!” Butch answered for the both of them with a beaming grin.

Rosie clenched her teeth, sucking in a breath as she adjusted him again, nudging at his feet so he’d support the weight of his own legs. It was a futile effort, but she’d helped carry heavier people with her father down in the vault. She could help an inebriated Butch walk back to her house across town…maybe. Gob still moved from behind the bar to push open the front door to make her exit easier. Caught up in the moment, she offered him a passing remark.

“If you hear a loud crash, we’ve fallen from the rafters. Please send our bodies to Moira,” she instructed sardonically. “For science.” 

x ------- x

Butch was of no help in the journey across town. Rosie would’ve guessed he had fallen asleep if it weren’t for the occasional drag of his feet and giggle, followed by an incoherent stream of words. All the while, she couldn’t help but wonder what had led to his sorry state—why’d he chosen to drink so much in the first place. Rosie knew he had the penchant for it—a bad habit learned from his mother—she was naïve to think the pattern would drop now that he was on the surface. Thinking back to her medical training and knowledge on addictive personalities, it wasn’t always so easy. The best thing she could do was to be there for him—he had done the same for her when she went through the paces of the emotional trauma of her father’s death—maybe the Wasteland was finally getting to him. Regardless, she could be a supportive friend. Friends—that’s what they wanted to be, right?

What if she wanted more?

“Ugh.”

“Huh?”

Rosie ignored Butch’s confusion and pushed open the front door, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process.

“Good evening, Miss Sheridan,” Wadsworth greeted as soon as they entered her Megaton home. “Oh, and Mr. DeLoria, he appears to be incapacitated. Do you require assistance?”

Rosie nodded as she continued dragging his body along side hers towards the stairs. The robot-butler instantly floated over, gently sliding a metal appendage under his other arm to assist in carrying him up to the second floor.

“Do you need the bathroom?” Rosie asked him, repeating the question when Butch shook his head too quickly. “Are you sure?”

“I ain’t gonna hurl,” he assured, a whine in his voice.

She was more worried about him pissing his pants but wasn’t about to embarrass him (or herself) by stating the fact out loud. Wadsworth continued to help carry him to the smaller bedroom, depositing him on the edge of the mattress where he promptly flopped backwards, arms flung to the side.

“I shall fetch you some water!” the Mister Handy exclaimed, whizzing away to perform his task.

Rosie exhaled like she had been holding her breath since leaving Moriarty’s, wondering if her pulse would ever settle. She glanced over her shoulder to find Butch sprawled out on his bed, legs dangling off the edge and boots twitching against the metal flooring. It would’ve been an amusing sight, if he weren’t so intoxicated. With another sigh she approached, quietly sitting down next to him.

“I’m taking your boots off,” she explained, looking up at his face to see his eyes were closed.

He hummed in response. “Oh-kay.”

One, two clunky black combat boots fell to the floor with a clang, and Wadsworth returned with a bottle of purified water. After another whirl of his robotic arms, he left the room, leaving the two alone. Rosie tapped Butch on the knee with the bottle.

“Sit up,” she instructed, shaking him harder when he didn’t move. “You need to drink some water.”

Slowly, he lifted himself onto his elbows, head rolling like it contained bricks instead of a squishy brain—she wondered sometimes if that were actually the case. He pushed himself up and swayed close, lips quirked up in a smirk.

“He-llo.”

Rosie bit her tongue at the foul stench emanating from his mouth, wishing Wadsworth had brought bubblegum as well. Oh well—Butch could worry about his hygiene in the morning—no doubt his hair would be a mess too. She pushed the purified water into his hand and guided it to his mouth, sliding away only when he started to drink on his own. When it was empty and sitting on the nightstand, he began wriggling out of his leather jacket, only to get the sleeve stuck on his Pip-Boy, as expected. Rosie shifted around to help him, half-standing, half-kneeling on the bed as he almost resisted her help, until he noticed their compromising position. As soon as his Tunnel Snakes jacket and Pip-Boy laid discarded on the foot of the bed, he wrapped an arm around her waist, nearly knocking their heads together.

“If ya’ wanna get closer to me, that’s all you gotta say, girl,” he muttered, sending sparks across her skin.  

Impulsively, she pushed away, standing upright, almost falling backwards from how dizzy she felt. Butch looked up at her, steely eyes glazed over in mild confusion. She needed to set the situation straight immediately, before boundaries were crossed and feelings were hurt. Her feelings.

“That’s not what’s happening right now,” she spoke quickly, waving her hands.

He followed the movement of her fingers, and she wasn’t sure if he understood. The silence stretched on for too long, Butch staring at her with doe-eyes, the softest hint of a smile. Why wasn’t he saying anything? And why couldn’t she say anything back? Rosie thought about forfeiting and leaving him as he was when there was the most subtle change to his expression, brows furrowing as his eyes flickered across her face.

“I—I don’t feel so good,” he mumbled before falling backwards.

Rosie jumped into action, shifting his body so he was laying properly along the bed, repeatedly checking his vital signs to ensure he was only passing out from exhaustion and not acute liver poisoning. Eventually, she moved his jacket and Pip-Boy aside, pulling the blanket over his body so she could better tuck him in—if he got chills during the night, he’d appreciate the warmth. Just as she was pushing herself off the bed, Butch’s finger’s tightened around her wrist.

“Hey, don’t,” he murmured into the pillow, one eye peeked open. “Stay?”

Rosie was about to protest when he smiled, and her chest tightened with a kind of yearning she was only recently familiar with. She didn’t want to leave him, not now, not ever. Through the good, the bad and the drunkenly. Even if he didn’t feel the same way about her, romantically—she’d find a way to get over it—just as she’d done before in the vault. Without offering him an answer, she scooted towards the headboard, leaning her back against it and stretching her legs along the sheets next to his body. Butch eyed her, but he surprisingly didn’t make a snarky remark about her choosing not to snuggle up close. Instead, he lifted his head and plopped it right into her lap, hooking his arm loose around her legs.

More silence fell over them, more quiet that Rosie didn’t know what to do with. She didn’t know where to put her hands, wringing them awkwardly by her chest as she studied Butch’s profile. His eyes were closed, usually coifed hair now a wavy mess hanging down his forehead. Hesitantly, she rested her fingers there, pushing back the black strands, studying the faint constellation of freckles she’d never noticed before dotted across his skin. When she noticed his smile increase she repeated her movements, steadily combing her fingers through his hair and across his scalp in a calming motion that reminded her of being cradled as a toddler in her father’s arms. This was far more intimate, however.

“Love you Rosie,” he mumbled into the fabric of her skirt.

She froze immediately, staring at his face wide-eyed and frantic. What? What? Her heart seized to beat for a second before fluttering to life so rapidly, it felt like she was going to have a stroke. He had to be drunk still, or she had to be dreaming. Or both. Maybe she was inebriated. As the thoughts swirled in her head, sending her into a panic, Butch continued, unaware of her stunned reaction.

“You’re my best friend.”

Oh.

Rosie swallowed the lump in her throat, but only found herself conflicted. So it wasn’t romantic love, but…platonic? That was still one hell of a confession, coming from Butch, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t letdown. Even with all the sudden fear that settled over her, it didn’t compare to the disappointment she felt now. Though, it wasn’t the first time she’d had unrequited feelings, and she was sure it wouldn’t be the last. That didn’t mean she was about to throw away a friendship forged from a rocky past.

Butch hugged her knees a little tighter. “You’re all I got left, ya’ know? The only one who’d take care of a sad sack like me.”

Rosie smiled, brushing her thumb across his forehead in an affectionate sweep. Completely unsure of what to say, or how to respond, she hoped it was enough. She was sure that he would’ve never said these things to her sober, anyways. If she said anything now, he wouldn’t remember, so it was better to enjoy the moment while it lasted. As soon as he was asleep, she would sneak away and decompress in her own room, try to sort through the emotional weight of it all. She decided that if he didn’t recall tonight in the morning, she’d not bother with bringing it up to him again—no need to embarrass him—even if she’d remember it forever. Rosie thought about what he said, realizing it was true. Butch was all she had.

Maybe one day, she’d tell him too.  

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Day 7 -- Gob

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober, Day 7 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don't interact.

Pegging with Gob x F!Lone

Day 7! One week in, woo hoo! And it's our lovely Gob this time. I adore this ghoul with everything in me, omg.

I hope you enjoy reading as much as I loved writing for this soft baby.

Here is the link to my Kinktober 2022 Event list so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: Pegging, strap-ons, dirty talk, praise, anal sex, anal fingering, hand jobs, multiple orgasms, enthusiastic consent, aftercare, pillow talk, fluff.

2.4k words.

--

Gob bit down hard on the bed sheet between his teeth as Lone stretched him open with a third finger. 

“Thaaaat’s it.” His partner said quietly, her free hand stroking over the few rough patches of hair left on his head as she slowly worked the fingers of her other hand deeper into his ass. “How’s that feel, baby?”

Gob groaned. It was all he could do at the sound of her words, as Lone leaned over him and whispered into his ruined ear, asking him questions like that when he was in this position. She sat back on the bed, her three fingers rhythmically working themselves deeper with each methodical thrust. Her other hand dragged down the back of his head, stroking over his back soothingly as she felt his body clench up. 

“Talk to me, honey. How are you feeling?” 

“Good.” He choked out. And dammit, he was. 

When he realized this was something he’d wanted, he’d still been nervous as hell about it, but Lone had been so supportive from the beginning, asking questions and establishing some ground rules, promising to take the time necessary to prepare him for what was to come. The strap-on they’d found wasn’t huge, but it sure as hell was a whole lot bigger than the couple of fingers he’d taken before realizing he’d wanted to try more. 

“I’m feeling good.” He reiterated. 

“Mm, good.” Lone leaned forward, her lips meeting his shoulder blade as she drove her fingers inside the rest of the way, finally reaching her knuckle. 

“There.” She whispered, kissing his shoulder again. 

Gob sucked in a breath at the feeling of being so stretched, of taking something deeper than he ever had before. The feeling of being so full.

His body shuddered as he involuntarily released another moan at the way Lone began to pull her fingers back, before thrusting back in again, as far as she could go. 

“What a good boy.” 

Gob’s muscles tensed at her words, his ass clenching around her fingers as though he never wanted them to leave. 

“Taking me so well.” 

He couldn’t do more than moan at her touch, hands clenching at the mattress for desperate purchase as he bucked his ass back against her fingers. Gob grit his teeth at the feeling of sudden friction against his half-hard cock, pressed firmly between his stomach and the uneven fabric of the bed sheets. 

“Can’t wait to give you my strap.” Lone carried on with her dirty words, even as her fingers pushed and pulled themselves out of his yielding entrance. “Be nice to hear those sweet sounds when I’m inside you. Even better than having you beg for me like you did earlier, even better than this.” 

She plunged her fingers all the way in again, and Gob gasped as he felt the tips of her digits just barely graze a pressure point deep inside him. 

“Lone, please.” He unwittingly obliged her wishes, his voice begging only half as loud as his writhing body, his tensing muscles, his throbbing cock and clenching ass. “I-I need it. Need it now. Please. ‘M ready.” 

He couldn’t see her face, but he could feel the way her grin formed on her lips as her hand stroked over his back, her fingers drawing out of him slowly before circling teasingly at the loosened opening. 

“Good, baby. I need you too. Need to see you fall apart beneath me, need to feel it happen.” 

He whimpered at that, his ass clenching at nothing as she drew her hands from his body completely. 

“Need to see your face as I take you like this for the first time.” Her hands came back to his body, gently guiding Gob onto his back on the bed, spreading his thighs as she scooted forward between them. 

Gob’s chest rose and fell heavily as he looked down his body, the imposing rubber cock Lone wore jutting out towards his stomach and making some warm feeling leap within him. He didn’t know how he was going to fit it all, but dammit, he wanted to. Not only so he wouldn’t disappoint her, but also just because he craved it. He craved the power she’d have over him, the trust that it took to be this vulnerable with anyone, especially someone as perfect as his gorgeous Lone. He craved the closeness they would share, craved her voice in his ear and her smooth skin against his, craved that look in her eyes when they were intimate, craved the way she– against all odds and reason– craved him in return. 

“You remember the safe word, baby?” 

Her voice broke into his thoughts, and Gob nodded quickly, assuring her. 

“Good.” She leaned over his body, the strap laying on his belly and nudging against his hardening cock as she bet to kiss him. “And please don’t be afraid to use it if you need to, okay? You're safe with me.” 

Her voice was normal for a moment, not bedroom Lone, not the dominant seductress he loved to submit to, but just his partner. She knew how he hated to let her down, but the way she spoke to him, Gob knew no matter what happened next, he wouldn’t be disappointing her. 

It was unfamiliar to feel so safe with someone. 

Gob couldn’t get enough of it. Of her. 

He raised his head and kissed her this time, more chaste than her contact, but still reassuring in the same such way she had been with him. 

“Okay.” His voice rasped, and Lone’s lips drew into a grin. 

“Okay, then, why don’t we begin?” 

She leaned back again, pulling her pelvis back and stroking one hand over her strap, while the other rested down on his thigh. He watched with half-hooded eyes as she applied more lube to the rubber cock, his body shuddering as her hand came next to spread more of the slick substance over his entrance. 

“Alright baby, just relax.” She prodded the head of the strap to his puckered asshole, pressing at him teasingly, but never fully allowing the bulbous tip to slot inside. 

He tried to do as she asked, to be good, making himself focus on his breathing, on her voice, the sound of each breath she took, the feel of her hand on his thigh, instead of the mildly uncomfortable stretch that pressured him with each subtle pulse of his partner’s hips. 

“That’s it.” She told him, feeling her strap dip inside as his entrance relented. “You’re ready. I’m gonna put it in, okay?” 

Gob’s teeth gritted together, but he nodded to her nonetheless. 

One more check to see if I really want to do this. 

She must be the most thoughtful person I’ve ever met.

Even amidst their heated moment, Gob found himself in utter bewilderment that he was the lucky ghoul that got to be with her. 

Anyone in the wasteland would be lucky to be with my Lone, and somehow, she chose me…

His body shuddered against the mattress, and on the next thrust forward, Lone applied more pressure, slowly stretching his entrance wide before popping the head of her strap fully inside. Gob’s fists clenched and he bit back a grunt of pain at the sudden motion. 

“So good for me, Gobby.” Her voice came out hoarse, and her pupils were dilated by the pleasure of seeing him beneath her. Just as she said, she loved the sight of him taking her in, even when it was nothing more than her fingers. The way Gob’s mouth would fall open, his brows creasing together, jaw clenching and eyes closing so tightly in bliss, the sounds that spilled from his gravelly throat. Lone couldn’t get enough. But this? With the length and girth of her strap? Everything was so deliciously amplified. 

As she felt Gob’s tense body begin to relax, his fists still clenched, but not quite as tight, teeth gritted, but grimace lessening, she pulled back a smidge, before pushing further forward. Lone rocked against him, slowly working the length of the strap into his ass as Gob moaned beneath her. Her hands were warm against his thighs and hips as she grabbed ahold of his body and helped him press further down onto her length. 

“Doing so well for me, almost there.” 

Gob groaned. 

Almost? I thought we were there two thrusts ago. 

His brows creased together firmly as her rubber length delved deeper than any fingers could reach, and she gave one final, definitive pulse until she was hilted inside him. 

“There you are. That was it, baby.” She leaned forward again, hands smoothing up and over the firmness of his chest as she laid a kiss to his tight lips. Gob’s teeth were still clenched with… well, not pain, but rather… discomfort, and he hardly managed to return the kiss before she pulled back again. 

“I told you you could take it all.” Lone whispered to him just before sitting up again. “You ready for me to move?” 

Gob took a deep breath, feeling some of the tension release in his clenched muscles, and he nodded to her. 

“Good boy.” She pulled her hips back, dragging the length of the strap out so slowly, but the friction against the sensitive walls of his ass was almost too much for him, even at this pace. “And don’t forget, baby. I wanna hear you.”   

He nodded to her, a moan escaping his mouth to prove that he would do as his partner asked.

At that, Lone pressed her hips forward, just as agonizingly slow, allowing him to feel every little ridge in the rubber cock as it delved back into his ass. Her hands stroked over his torso as she bottomed out again, lithe fingers moving up to stimulate the raised points on his chest. Lone pulled back again, thrusting back in a bit quicker, and continued with her rhythmic movements until she’d worked up a consistent pace. Gob grunted with each press into his depths, the rough head of the strap bumping something deep within him that set off sparks in his mind and behind his eyelids with each forceful touch. 

“Tell me how it feels, love.” 

Gob felt a cool hand brush over his burning cheek as her rhythm slowed to a more languid pace, and he heard himself unwittingly sighing in relief. 

“Feels different.” He managed between breaths. “So full, and when you–”

He cried out as she nudged at his prostate, his ass clenching tight at the strap as she ground her hips against him and made his legs shake from burning pleasure. 

“That’s it, baby. Just relax for me, give in to it.” One hand sunk lower, fingers dragging down his sweat-slicked torso until she reached his half-hard cock where it rested against his stomach. With another maddening pulse of her hips into that special spot, she began to teasingly run her fingers up the length of his member. 

Her stroking digits brought him to full hardness in no time at all, his pleasure spurred too with the drag and press of her strap as she lazily thrusted inside him. By the time she wrapped her fist around him and began to quickly pump over his cock with her lubed-up hand, Gob was bucking his hips and moaning unabashedly with each of his partner’s overwhelming touches. 

His lower half felt like burning hot coals, Lone’s movements stroking the flames upwards to lick at his belly and touch his chest while his cheeks heated from the flame’s proximity. Everything about her in this moment was invigorating, enlightening, even. 

She gave another forceful thrust inside him, and Gob choked, his breath seizing in his chest as every muscle suddenly clenched within him. He cried out a broken sound as her hand moved quickly over his hard cock, stroking furiously over him while her strap stayed buried in his ass. 

Just as his first bout of pleasure was subsiding, a new one built up just as rapidly, spilling over the edge as Lone’s hand wrapped firmly around the head of his cock, her thumb dragging over his sensitive slit until he was spurting cum over his stomach and shaking from relief and overstimulation. One orgasm spilled straight into the other, and Gob couldn’t even hear his own voice, as his body writhed on the mattress, hips bucking, hands clenching, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he was utterly overwhelmed by a cacophony of immense pleasure. 

The ghoul’s body trembled as his release finished washing over him, and when his eyes finally were able to open and focus, he was met with Lone’s soft smile and a look of pure adoration that damn near made him choke with emotion. 

She kissed him once, and as unprepared as he was for it, the feeling of her soft, reassuring lips on his was comforting, and he pressed forward before she pulled away. Carefully, Lone pulled her hips back, one hand holding his torso in place as the other gently guided the strap from his ass. 

“You did so well, baby.” She said after she removed the strap from her body, and settled down beside him on the mattress. “Did you like it?” 

He only nodded to her, not yet trusting his voice as he slowly came down from the cloud 9 she’d pushed him onto. 

“It sure looked like it.” She smiled, “I’ve never seen you like that before. You were beautiful, Gob.” 

His brows furrowed, and Gob found the presence of mind to turn his head to face her. 

Me… beautiful?

“Yes, you heard me right.” One of her soft hands reached forward, caressing his jaw and pulling him into another sweet kiss. “Beautiful. Mesmerizing. To see you come undone like that, I nearly came myself, just from the sight of you.” 

Gob snapped out of his fog at that, blinking rapidly to chase away the blur in his eyes. 

“Lone! What about you, how can I–?” 

“Gob, baby, no. You just rest, okay? I got everything I needed just from seeing you like that. Trust me.” 

She kissed him again, throwing one arm over his chest before scooting closer and settling her head in the crook of his shoulder. Gob smiled, his hand moving up to rub over Lone’s gently as he released another deep breath, just reveling in the care and closeness of his partner as she cuddled up beside him.

[kiwisfics]

[Harper and Charon/Gob]

A/N - I don't even know what sparked this but here it is...

x

   Harper grit her teeth, hands gripping the straps of her bag to the point of white knuckles and numbness. A month and she comes back to have to deal with this.

   She wasn't oblivious to the hatred widespread throughout the Capital Wasteland and beyond-she traveled with a ghoul, of course she knew the garbage they had to deal with, just because radiation happened to let them live. She was an avid defender of every ghoul she happened to come across, giving herself quite a name in the Underworld.

   Her and Charon made an unstoppable team to be sure, though it had taken months to convince him to talk about anything more than enemies and trading supplies, but Harper wasn't one to back down when she set her mind to something-practically everyone in the Wasteland could attest to that. He didn't have a prayer. He was still quiet, preferring to keep the image of a bodyguard rather than that of the friend she saw in him, but it was a silent agreement; she didn't strike up conversations in public and he'd chat with her whenever they were alone.

   Being an unstoppable team didn't stop the comments or the looks though. Even when traveling with her, someone known across the Wasteland as both a formidable force and a selfless hero, he wasn't spared from the rude remarks and glares given to any other ghoul. Charon never seemed to care, more focused on watching Harper's back-from both obligation and his own protectiveness at this point-but Harper would have none of it. She'd broken many noses over the course of their traveling together and he'd gained all the more respect for her for it.

   However, the scene in front of her was exactly where she'd first encountered her first ghoul, as well as the pointless hatred-it was like people thought they chose to be ghouls-and she'd had quite enough of this reoccurring  pattern. Every time she stepped through the bloody door, someone was yelling at Gob-she didn't even drink; how much alcohol had she bought just to store it in her house or sell it to a caravan as soon as she left town, just so she could strike up conversation with him? She'd almost reached her boiling point the day she'd met him and he'd begged her not to hit him, but she'd refrained from putting a bullet through Moriarty's head out of desperation of finding her dad.

   Collin Moriarty was far worse in her eyes than a group of raiders or even the super mutants in the DC ruins, simply because he was an insufferable pig. He'd rubbed her the wrong way from the first word out of his mouth and her distaste only grew each time she chatted with Gob, learning more about his past and the almost never ending battle to buy his freedom.

   Of all the people she'd resisted shooting in order to remain chummy with others around, no one had even tempted her more.

   "Hey!" Her voice echoed around the saloon, gaining the attention and silence of everyone present. Oh yes, she might spend a little over half her time in Megaton, but she was still widely respected; everyone knew what her and her companions had accomplished and they were immediately interested and intimidated by her outburst.

   Dogmeat rose from where he rested at her feet, offering a growl as he sensed his master's unrest. Charon was already standing, always refusing any offered seat while he maintained his "bodyguard mode" as Harper liked to call it, his hand was at his gun the moment Harper got to her feet, the only sound in the room the skidding of her bar stool against the floor.

   "How much?" The question came from gritted teeth underneath blue eyes burning with a fire no one in Megaton had ever had the displeasure of seeing. Charon had seen it on many occasions and, he knew, that fire only appeared when all sense of goodwill and charity had vanished from her mind. She only gave that look to those she saw as irredeemable, namely, those who mistreated ghouls.

   Simultaneously, Gob and Charon's mouths opened, both prepared to argue against her intentions-Charon for concern that this would get out of hand, Gob out of concern of her getting involved at her own risk-but a glance from her fiery eyes stopped them before they could start. She was the Lone Wanderer. She knew exactly what she was doing.

   "Well?"

   "For what?" He was the only one in the room who seemed completely unconcerned, but Harper knew better. She saw his hand twitch, moving closer to his weapon as his eyes glanced between her and her 6'4 companion.

   "How much does Gob owe you?"

   The confusion on Moriarty's face turned to amusement in an instant and it made her blood boil. Though she prided herself on not pulling her gun prematurely, her hand twitched of it's own volition before she quelled the fury in her. Even Charon had taken a step back, noticing the twitch of her hand and giving her room if she did happen to lash out. While neither him, Dogmeat, or anyone not Moriarty had anything to fear from her, if she whipped that gun off her back quick enough, she was liable to hit him with it.

   "Are you planning on paying his debt? I doubt you could pay your own bar tab."

   Months upon months of scavenging had brought an overabundance of caps to her possession, add to that the countless caps rewarded after she did a good deed and she was practically loaded. While his comment didn't irk her as much as his actions, she was going to enjoy shoving the caps into his hands with no hesitation. Whatever extortion he had managed to gain money from, she'd gained far more by simply being a good person.

   In a flash, Harper had grabbed hold of his collar, pulling him to lean over the bar while she snarled at him, "How. Much." Multiple people had brought their hands to their own weapons, few of them giving any real sense of certainty, they knew that any hostility would likely lead to their own deaths.

   Finally, a true look of fear flashed through the man's eyes, calming her anger-how long had she waited for that? He named a number and, after a quick glance at him, Charon tossed a bag onto the bar, 5,000 caps-all they had on them, but certainly not the extent of their resources.

   "Pleasure doing business with you." She gave a solid shove as she released him, sending him stumbling back as a satisfied smirk grew on her lips. She wasn't one to be trifled with and now Collin knew it as well as anyone else who had inspired her anger.

   She turned to Gob, smirk turning to a kind smile, "You're welcome to come with us. We stop by Underworld a lot, if you're interested of course. Other than that, anyone gives you any trouble, you come to me and I'll handle it."

   "Uh... thank you." He was beyond shocked, sure Harper had never once commented on his appearance, even when she had first met him-she had questioned him gently, explaining where she had came from with a tired, but kind smile-she always left extra caps in the wake of her visits, even in the beginning when she was scraping by to keep her weapons and clothes from falling to pieces, but he'd never expected her to buy his freedom. She'd stated once that freedom was something everyone should be allowed, that was the first time he had noticed the disdain in her eyes. He'd assumed it was something that had always been there, something he'd happened to overlook and chalked her kindness up to her being that way naturally.

   When she'd returned to the saloon with Charon in tow, he'd initially been confused, certain that the disdain he had seen had been for what he was, but here she was, the talk of the Wasteland, traveling with a ghoul at her side. She even occasionally nudged him, offering a bad joke to which he wouldn't respond, clearly he'd misjudged her disdain.

   Still, no matter how much she had done for others, even gaining a nasty and deep gash across her face after one difficult task, he'd never thought she'd offer her caps for him.

   Harper's eyes were scanning the occupants of the saloon, eyes meeting each concerned gaze. She raised a brow. Was it really so hard to be kind to a ghoul?

   With a sigh, her eyes returned to Gob, "Well, what'd'ya say? Want to head out?"

   "Yeah," he nodded, smiling at her, "I'd like that."

[pyrettawychwiggin]

The Iron Angel: The Tale of Maria Røntgen (A Fallout 3 Fanfiction) - Coming Soon!

(The following post is a handful of writing process notes for this project; depending on how the writing goes, some of these details may change going forward to better suit the story I'm telling.)

I've been re-playing Fallout 3 recently - amidst all the Fallout fever since the series came out; and one thing I love doing when playing story-driven games, is imagining a more fleshed-out story for my character based off of what happens throughout my playthrough.

So naturally, that's what I've been up to - and it is hitting me so much harder than I was expecting.

I've cried.

Like, actual tears.

I'm out here hurting my own feelings, and it gives me LIFE.

So, I figure maybe it's time to start sharing it.

I will likely have the first chapter be more of a series of flashes throughout her childhood leading up to the events the beginning of the game, so obviously, SPOILER ALERT.

Before I start posting full chapters, here's some info if you're curious as to what to expect from this fanficton.

About the Main Character

• The main character of this fanfiction is named Maria "The Lone Wanderer" Rőntgen.

• She has pasty, white skin, and a flat nose with deep blue eyes and jet black hair that she typically prefers to keep cut short.

• She's on the shorter side, standing at about 5'5". She's little stocky, and also quite soft with very little muscle, seeing as throughout her life in Vault 101, she's not been particularly active.

• I will likely be doing up some digital art of her in the near future.

• Much like her father, James, she relies greatly on her intelligence, charm and perception to get by, but she is a pretty great shot with rifles and shotguns seeing as how she learned fairly early how to shoot.

About the Story

Below, I will be discussing some more in-depth things, such as what character(s) she may be romantically involved with.

If you'd rather read the story and be surprised rather than knowing this ahead of time, I would advise skipping this blurb and waiting until the story starts getting posted. It's your call!

• This story does have a fair amount of a focus on romance, but keep in mind that not every chapter will focus on this. Some chapters really are just about Maria's personal journey throughout the storyline.

• While this fanfiction has a couple will-they-won't-they storylines, and various minor love interests, the main love interest for this story is Charon (trust me, I was just as surprised as you are at this - but you'll see how things get there throughout the story - this wasn't how I thought things were going to go when I first started playing).

• However, you may still see some moments involving Gob, Nova, Butch, Fawkes, Vance, Holly, etc.

• This fanfiction will have some 18+ scenes - however, these will only be viewable by my supporters on Ko-Fi & Patreon. This will ONLY apply to 18+ content, however; general romance will just be part of the base story.

• There is one point where the story comes to a head and may deviate into two branches; I could have decided to simply choose one, but I'm considering writing both of them.

To put it very simply - a very important character actually wound up dying unexpectedly in my playthrough, and for the sake of sticking to the events of my actual playthrough, I wrote the rest of the original storyline with the assumption that they truly died in that moment.

However, I'm considering, for the sake of my bleeding heart, to write another, you could say, alternative routing where this is not the case. You, the reader, could be free to decide which version you think is best.

Or maybe I'll just write whatever the hell I want; who the hell knows?

That's about it for now, folks - keep an eye out for more - I will be posting the chapters here, as well as on my Wattpad/Fanfiction accounts, but any behind-the-scenes, and writer's notes such as this one, will be posted here on my Tumblr, as well as on PSH's Ko-Fi/Patreon pages. Check out the links below if you're interested in any of that.

Thanks for tuning in, m'strudes! See you next time!

~ Pyretta Wychwiggin

[alien-ariel7]

“Here’s a quick ne-ne-neeeews flash!” Three Dog continued, and Gob gave the radio his full attention, “God knows why, but the kid from 101 is scouring the Capital Wasteland for a unique brand of Nuka-Cola. It’s called Quantum, glows bright blueish purple. I’ve also heard it tastes like radscorpion shit and turns your piss blue. Or was it the other way around?”

Gob almost felt a little chuckle in his chest at that. Almost.

“Well while we all know not to bother with that shit, we gotta give our Vaultie Heroine the benefit of the doubt. So all you storeowners, beware: Miss One Oh One may be headed your way. Do Ol’ Three Dog a favor and throw her a bone.”

The Wanderer had never stepped foot in Megaton. Somehow her exploits had never led her here, which was especially amazing considering the town’s proximity to her home vault. But still, One Oh One had never visited his town.

Didn’t stop Gob from hoping, though. Now more than ever.

--------------------------------------------------

If something as stupid as a Nuka-Cola was what finally brought her to his bar, he could live with that.

New series!! So excited about this one. A shorter series like this make it less stressful for me, and I’m more likely tooooo--you know--finish the story.

[kharonion]

I saw that ask meme, talk about.. Charon!

Ah, howdy, Anon Friend! 💚

aaaa I was secretly hoping someone would give me The Boy. Here we go... >:3

favorite thing about them: Most definitely how dynamic of a character Charon actually is! He's got those little spurts of personality in him--making clear Beatles reference, The Ahzrukhal Moment, etc.--that bring more to the table than just "big boy bodyguard who shoot things."

least favorite thing about them: This'll come as no surprise, but--the contract. It's a situation entirely out of his control, one that prevents him from being the free-thinking man he deserves to be, but he's so desensitized to it that he knows nothing else (and probably can't imagine it).

favorite line: "I'm nobody's errand boy."

brOTP: Charon and Willow. They chat over smokes and such, you can't change my mind.

OTP: I'm a huge sucker for Charon x Gob (and yes, they pining for each other like no one's business); they share a commonality in their circumstances that, let's face it, not many others in the Capital would relate to. Charon x Lone (neutral - very good karma specifically) is a close second.

nOTP: Charon x Ahzrukhal. Yes, I've seen it, and no, I don't like it. (Listen, I ain't here to yuck any yums, but uh... y'all can keep that one.)

random headcanon: I know the poor lad has, like, 3 Intelligence... but I like to think that's book smarts. Now, when it comes to survival, stratagem, and weaponry? Charon is super knowledgeable, maybe even encyclopedic.

unpopular opinion: I think freeing Charon completely of his contractual binds is a bad idea. Now, before you start feverishly typing... hear me out, 'kay? As I mentioned, he knows nothing else (consciously, anyway). Shitty as it is, the contract gives him purpose; freeing him of that takes it away. And Charon, I imagine, would not react well to such a tremendous change as that.

song I associate with them: My Own Prison -- Creed

favorite picture of them: Charon rocks that Outcast Power Armor... God, I love he.

Ask About a Character!