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thyme-in-a-bubble · 10 months ago

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the dead ringer

buttercup, chapter three

a/n: yeah, this did happen to me in real life, although it happened on a bus so i couldn't immediately get away... ANYWAYS! enjoy this hurt/comfort heavy chapter!

summary: “I think I know something that might help a bit.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, crying, panic attacks, matt using his superpowers for the sake of hurt/comfort, boxing

word count: 2057

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Drizzling the flour into the wide bowl, like a dusty snowfall, you watched the number on the scale carefully as you neared the desired number. Though just before you hit it, Walter’s head suddenly poked in through the doorway leading behind the counter and interrupted you and Howard’s all-too-important discussion on what the day’s music choice should be.

“Hey, Y/n? There’s someone here to see you.”

Laying down the scoop still holding a bit of flour, you dragged your palms down the brown apron tied around your frame and exited the kitchen. A bright smile spread across your face and crinkled up your gaze as you spotted who was standing on the other side of the counter.

“Matt, hey–, oh my god,” you then suddenly noticed the bruising that blossomed out from under his tinted glasses and stretched up over the patched-up scrape that split his left brow, “what happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just wasn’t paying attention last night, tripped and fell, that’s all,” he waved a hand, “I just wanted to stop by on my way to work, get a round of coffees to-go for everyone and perhaps some breakfast for myself, just whatever you think I’d like.”

“You’ll let me pick?” your eyebrows rose slightly.

But Matt simply smiled and said, “I trust your judgment,” his grip shifted gently on the cane standing tall before his chest.

As you moved to make the coffees, “alright,” you drew out a pondering breath, “are you in the mood for something sweet or savoury?”

Thinking about it a second, he uttered, “savoury.”

“Do you like sandwiches?” you popped the lids on the to-go cups. When he nodded, you placed the coffees in a little cardboard tray, “okay, I think you’ll like this one,” grabbed a brown paper bag and moved further down the counter, “it’s made with focaccia and has pesto in it as well as some tomatoes and cheese and stuff.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“I also–, you know what? I’ll be right back,” you then abruptly turned and momentarily disappeared into the kitchen, grabbing a few of the pillowy buns still on the cooling rack into a bag. As you returned, you also snuck a hand into the display case and stuffed a few other goodies into the sack, “just for the others, if they want,” you placed the bundle onto the counter beside the coffees, “I just pulled them out of the oven a bit ago and they’re still warm.”

“What is it?” Matt tilted his chin.

“Uh, some raisin buns, but I also threw two croissants in there in case they didn’t like raisins...”

A soft smile warmed his bruised features as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, “what do I owe you?”

“Oh no,” your hands waved lightly before you, “it’s on the house.”

“Y/n, come on,” he cocked his head.

“Fine,” you light-heartedly sighed, “if you really wanna sing for your supper, then I’ll cash it in at a later date. I don’t know, maybe if I get arrested someday or something you could help me out.”

“You don’t have to bribe me with free baked goods for that.”

“No, but it sure doesn’t hurt, does it?” you chuckled.

“No,” he joined in as he reached for the bags, “I guess it doesn’t.”

“You want some help carrying it?” you asked, hope seeping through your tone, “I could take my break and walk with you the rest of the way.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, we just got through the morning rush, they’ll be fine without me for–, I don’t know, 15 minutes or however long it’ll take to walk to your office and back.”

“Alright, thanks,” he smiled, one paper bag hooked in the fingers that also clutched the cane.

“I’m just gonna go grab my jacket, one second,” you said before ducking into the back to do so, letting your uncles know as you slipped out of your comfortable work clogs and into your sneakers.

You ended up dividing the load, with you carrying the coffees and the last bag in one arm, though a few protests left you at first, begging him to let you carry all of it, they melted away as his free hand enveloped yours.

When you reached his office, your arms wrapped around his frame as you hugged him long enough for your heartbeats to sync up, and just as you pulled away, his wide palms still warm on your back, you leaned in and planted a brief peck on his scruffy cheek.

One of his hands swept up to meet the side of your face as your lips retracted. You pulled back so slowly that you weren’t sure you were moving at all, being drawn in by his warmth like a moth to a flame.

His nose gently grazed against yours as he let himself linger, but just as your eyes fluttered shut in expectance that he’d kiss you, his warmth withdrew and he slowly breathed, “have a good day.”

In a matter of seconds, you had gone from giggling, glancing down at some silly joke on your phone as you walked home, to panic instantly kicking in as a passerby’s voice pierced your soul and made your blood run cold.

Glancing around, you saw a stranger standing off to the side and yapping into his phone. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t Michael, but it sounded exactly like him, so much so that the tone sent your body right back to that very night as if no time had passed at all.

Willing your body to move, forcing it to conquer the short rest of the way home, once your front door shut behind you and your quiet apartment consumed you, painful sobs began to burst out of your trembling frame. Hyperventilating, you crashed into the nearby wall of the entryway directly across from the door, incapable of getting deeper into your home.

Soon, a quiet and surprising knock found your door.

“Y/n?” the worried tone of your neighbour sounded from the other side.

Your shaky voice came out no louder than a whisper, “M-Matt?”

There might not have been any other instances you could recall where accidentally forgetting to lock your door turned out for the better, because when Matt then tried the handle, it gently complied.

Shutting it behind him, he rushed to you, “hey, hey,” he uttered softly, a hand soothingly finding your arm, “what’s going on?”

Attempting an answer, “I–, I–,” only incoherent sobs managed to seep from you.

“Okay, alright,” he sucked in a controlled breath, one of his hands sliding up to the strap of your backpack, “how about we start by getting all the way inside, huh?” gently gliding it off you and resting the bag on the floor.

You let yourself lean into him fully as he supported you on the short journey towards the couch. Wobbly taking a seat, his touch left you as he settled beside you.

Spine curving, you buried your puffy face in your trembling hands, letting the whole world drift away as small lakes were birthed within your palms from your pain.

When the sobs eventually began to subsite, growing further and farther apart, your frame slowly unfurled. Instinctively flicking your hands before your form, you tried to physically shake even a fraction of the excruciating sensation off of you, but without success.

Matt hadn’t moved an inch, simply stayed there right beside you.

When your quiet voice eventually filled space, it came out broken and overflowing with emotion, “I thought it was him… it wasn’t, b-but it sounded exactly like him… I’ve done double takes every time I saw a stranger with the same haircut or felt nauseous every time I encountered the same name, but this really did sound like him. Same voice, same accent, same everything… but it wasn’t him… it wasn’t… it just sent me right back, you know?”

Hesitantly, you grasped his hand in yours, expecting the contact to only make it worse, to somehow taint and ruin his wonderful and soothing touch, but it didn’t, he didn’t. It was Matt.

Trying to regain control of your breathing, you shakily sucked in deep breaths, feeling your gulps of air slowly become calmer and migrate from the very top of your chest, down to expand your sore stomach. Eyes only half open and utterly exhausted, you noticed that your head was now leaning against Matt’s shoulder.

Glancing hazily down at yourself, you muttered, “fuck… I still have my shoes and jacket on…”

Reaching down, he offered, “here,” before sliding your coat off, resting it on the back of the couch, and leaning down to pull your shoes off.

Curling your legs up onto the couch, the shift in your position offered you more relief than you’d expected. As you attempted to get as comfortable as you possibly could in the state you were in, you snatched up Matt’s hand once more.

Offering your palm a soothing squeeze, he asked quietly, “what do you need, huh? What can I do?”

“I–…” you thought, your brain just as drained as your body was, “I don’t know… maybe–… maybe just be here a bit?”

Exhaling lowly, he flashed you a faint smile, “of course.”

Glancing down at his fingers, sweeping across your own, you said, “hey, Matt? Could you maybe–, uh… could you give me a hug?”

Not hesitating, his strong arms engulfed your quivering frame and a fresh wave of sobs swiftly bubbled out of you as he held you tight, though your cries didn’t push him away, he stayed steadfast, embracing you close till the eruption ultimately simmered down, leaving you nearly asleep against his tear-stained shoulder.

As he gently lowered you down to lay on the couch, you tightened your grip on his shirt as he began to pull back, ushering him to sink down as well, allowing you to curl into his safe embrace and let slumber drift you away.

When you finally stirred, the sun was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey,” you blinked up at Matt still in the exact same spot as before.

“Hey,” you replied groggily, “what time is it?” swiftly fishing your phone out of your pant pocket before Matt could conjure an answer, “oh, fuck… it’s nearly midnight… did you sleep as well?”

“Not really,” he shrugged, “maybe for a little bit, but no.”

“Oh…” you breathed, averting your gaze.

“How are you feeling?” his thumb swiped your waist where his broad palm was planted.

“…I don’t know…” you exhaled, “…exhausted… sad… angry… really fucking angry… so angry that it kinda scares me…”

After a beat of silence, with only your woeful breaths filling the space, Matt then uttered, “I think I know something that might help a bit.”

Your gaze drifted from the faded paint on the walls to the worn punching bags as you and Matt sat on the edge of the central ring and his fingers worked at wrapping up your hands.

“Do you come here a lot?” you asked, your vision gliding back to him.

“From time to time,” he tilted his head slightly, “reminds me of my dad,” tucking the last end of the strip under the weave, securing it into place, he closed your hand into a fist and exhaled, “alright, you’re ready,” he adjusted your grip, briefly offering your wrist a squeeze as he said, “just remember to keep your wrist strong and your thumb right here,” he slid your finger down below your knuckles.

You hadn’t gone into it with much hope, in fact, it was only out of your desperation just feel better that you even humoured the experiment. In the beginning, it did feel as silly as you’d imagined, nearly stopped completely, but at some point in the mess of it all, your punches grew more ferocious, they grew more brutal, and suddenly something inside of you snapped and unravelled. It wasn’t some magic pill, but the physical act did loosen something within you and gave away to a fresh release of sobs, though not the painful and unbearable kind you’d had to endure earlier. It was the kind that felt like relief. Even if it wasn’t permanent, in that very moment, you didn’t feel like you were drowning anymore.

#lea’s writing #buttercup series #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock series #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #matt murdock hurt/comfort

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 6 months ago

Note

umm how dark are u willing to go? I'm thinking abt turning to a life of prostitution and the ghoul being your first ever client and he's not very gentle about it, (plus you're scared bc he's a ghoul ffs) in fact he's very smug bc he's the first client, probably buys you for the night :) mwah xoxo

Working Girl

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Sex Worker Female Reader

Word Count: 5,411

Warnings: smut (18+), sex for pay, rough sex, knife play, cannibalistic threats (he's joking...kinda), spitting, hair pulling, humiliation, rope play, dacryphilia, face and throat fucking, cum facial, some dubcon elements, soft-ish ending (I cannot help myself).

Notes: My answer to that question is "darker than this", anon. I suppose I should probably put together some sort of "wills-and-wonts" pinned post, though, honestly, there aren't many of the latter. With smut and romance content, I think it's important to keep an open mind and broaden your horizons. We are cool with sex work and sex workers in this house, by the way.

I had to let this one stew a bit to decide what direction I wanted to go with it. I'm obsessed with the idea of Cooper menacing around in New Vegas, so I hope you're alright with that. I am also obsessed with the outfits the sex workers outside the casinos wear. I went a little crazy with the length on this one, but I'm super happy with how it turned out. Hope you like it! XOXO

The uniform you'd been given for your new job was absolutely humiliating.

Sure, you looked...nice. They'd fed you, for once you'd had plenty of water, got the first chance to bathe that you'd had in weeks, maybe months. You'd even been able to wash your hair, a rare, rare thing that still had you trying to smell the silky strands as they blew by your face. Initially, you'd felt quite confident, actually; the cropped top even had sleeves, the tight black skirt and heels making your legs look quite nice, even if they were uncomfortable to walk and stand in.

However, your confidence had diminished a bit when they'd given you the black leather collar to wear around your neck, reducing to basically zero when you actually stepped outside to begin your work.

Okay, you had technically done this before, traded sex for medicine or repair work or a place to stay. Honestly, at this point, you thought you'd had more sex for trade than sex for pleasure, the latter hard to come by for someone as picky about actual dating as you. But it felt like one thing to have someone offer it in the moment, when you were truly desperate and a spur-of-the-moment decision was distastefully easy to make. This, standing along the New Vegas Strip and advertising yourself for it, felt like another. A late evening breeze blew across the road, stirring up some dust and making you shiver.

If you were honest with yourself, you got off easy. You weren't sure what the guys and girls with the chains around their bodies and their nipples exposed had done, right or wrong, to earn that uniform, but you weren't eager to find out.

There was a man across the way, leaning against the wall in the shadows outside the tram station, a lit cigarette hanging loosely from his hand. You couldn't see his face, obscured by a dingy, wide-brimmed cowboy hat, his figure hidden as well by a long, dark duster that was incredibly ratty at the ends. He'd been there a while; you weren't sure how long, but you were fairly certain he'd been checking you out. His smokes were lasting an awfully long time.

You'd been told that oftentimes johns were too nervous to initiate the transaction themselves, that you needed to be fun and flirty and try to hook them in yourself if you wanted any business. It didn't help that you, too, were nervous to initiate, but you wanted this to work out, at least for now, and no one else had been interested so far.

"Hey there, handsome. Are you looking to party?" you called out to him, waving as playfully as possible.

That got him, the burning red cherry at the end of his smoke glowing brightly for a few seconds before he tossed it to the ground, exhaling a big cloud of smoke as he stubbed it out with the toe of his boot.

"Handsome, huh? It's been a hot, hot minute since anyone called me that, darlin'." he drawled, his voice actually quite nice. His footsteps gave off a funny little jingle you couldn't place, and you calmly took him in as he approached. But then he came close enough that you could see his face, see the pits and the sunken eye sockets and the gaping hole in the middle of his face where a nose was supposed to be.

A ghoul. Holy shit, he was a ghoul.

Now, you didn't have anything against ghouls, per se, not like some people certainly seemed to. You didn't like the idea of anyone being barred from towns and outposts or harassed just because of what they were, to no fault of their own. You still gave pause at the idea of sleeping with one. Couldn't it make you sick? Didn't some ghouls eat people? Or was that just the feral ones? No, that was stupid. There were people who ate people in this world. Of course a ghoul could possibly eat you.

"Busy the rest of the night?" he asked as if it were automatically the response he'd receive.

You tried your best to giggle playfully, desperate to no longer have to stand outside and solicit for a while, even if it meant your first trick was a doozy.

"Not if you've got the caps." you replied, clenching your shaking hands behind your back.

"Oh, I've got 'em, sweetheart. So." he asked, looking you blatantly up and down. "Are we gonna party or what?"

The two of you made your way into the casino, the bright lights throwing intriguing shadows across your new friend's gaunt face. You left him at the front desk and told him where could meet you after he relinquished all of his weapons, including the big gun strapped to his back. You'd be happy to see that go.

After you left him, you went to the back to check in and described the john you were going back with. When you said he was a ghoul, you expected some sort of reaction or concern, but all the older woman behind the counter did was produce a Rad-X from a half-empty bottle and push it across the counter at you along with a room key.

"Room three. He paid for the night." she said flatly, barely looking your way. "You're gonna wanna take that now, not later."

You picked it up and turned to walk towards the back rooms where the dates happened. You were a little floored he'd paid for that much time; you'd been anticipating an hour, maybe two. But all night? Did turning into a ghoul give you some sort of super stamina? Or did he have other plans for you?

As you passed by the doorway to the gambling floor, you could see him still standing at the counter emptying his pockets.

Just how many weapons did one person need?

Hesitating a moment, you waited to catch his eye, holding up your hand and flashing him three fingers. He gave you a slight nod, and you continued on, unlocking the third door down the adjacent, isolated hall. The rooms weren't much but the basics; a dingy but functional bed, a chair and side table with a jug of water and a few glasses in the corner. A lamp with a stained shade. A clock to keep track of the time. That was about it. You poured yourself a small glass of water from the jug and swallowed the Rad-X down, a bitter taste coating the inside of your mouth. Pulling a face, you took a fidgety seat at the foot of the bed to wait for your companion for the night to arrive, leaving your uncomfortable heels on.

Don't take off the shoes before the john gets in there, you'd been told. Some guys like to take everything off themselves.

You were pulled from your ruminations by the sound of the door creaking open, making you startle ever-so-slightly as he entered.

The people at the front desk had almost certainly offered to take his hat and coat, but it seemed he had declined. Maybe he had some particular personal attachment to them, you thought as he shucked the dirty duster, hanging it by the door. The hat remained on as he turned and appraised you, sitting straight on the bed, your hands daintily in your lap. He still wore a few layers, but you took comfort in knowing that he'd had his pockets emptied. They'd let him keep the lasso he'd been wearing, though, and you eyed it cautiously as it hung from his hip.

The ghoul didn't say anything to you as he crossed the room, pouring himself a tall glass of water and sitting in the chair, drinking it down as he stared at you. That sent you squirming ever so slightly, uncertain of how you were supposed to react.

"So, how long have you been in town?" you asked, eager to fill the silence. He didn't answer for an unsettlingly long time, finishing the first glass of water and pouring another.

"Long enough. Just blowing through." he replied, brim over his eyes and glass over his mouth.

"Ah." you responded, unsure what else to say to that. Things were quiet again for a long time, several minutes passing as you watched him dig an inhaler out of his pocket and take a long drag. You weren't sure what it was; you'd recognize a Jet container. Lots of people used it.

"I was surprised you wanted me for the whole night." you confessed.

"That right?" he responded. "Not in this line of work long, eh?"

"Oh. Uh, I guess." you replied, taken aback by that. "It's just that all night's a long time."

You were trying to make your voice as sweet and seductive as possible, despite the tingle of worry creeping up your spine.

"It sure is." he replied, a glint in his eye that you couldn't read. It frightened you a little, but you told yourself you were overreacting. Another few minutes passed by, another puff of the inhaler, before he raised his hand, still wearing those thick gloves, and beckoned you over. You stood, somewhat shakily walked over to stand in front of him as he sat reclined in the chair, and waited for him to direct you.

"Alright," he said, voice calm as ever as he suddenly produced a long, slender blade from...somewhere. "let's get that outfit off."

This, of course, sent you screaming, turning quickly to flee towards the door. However, he quickly appeared behind you, a hand moving to cover your mouth with one of those filthy gloves as he yanked you back into his chest, making you stumble in those awful shoes. The smell of leather and gunpowder washed over you.

"Jesus Christ." he said, mild annoyance in his tone as he held you almost effortlessly with the one arm. "If you're already screamin' like this when we ain't even had any fun, maybe you ain't cut out for this, baby doll. Never seen a knife before?"

Your hollering choked down into a little cry as the strange-smelling glove muffled you, as you took in what he said. You desperately didn't want to fuck up this job on your literal first night, didn't want to lose a chance to have some stability, a roof over your head. But you couldn't stop the way your brain screamed at you to run. He brought the blade back up to your eye level, turning it to and fro, as if to show it off to you, the small silver blade glinting dangerously in the lamplight.

"You aren't supposed to have that." you whimpered between his fingers, trembling.

"Lotsa people do things they aren't supposed to in this world." was his reply as he slid the blade directly between your breasts, slicing through the crop top from hem to collar. You swore you felt the blade swipe your skin, and it made you gasp in fear, but when you looked, the skin was untouched.

His hands made quick work of the button and zipper of your skirt, dropping it around you feet and leaving you standing before him in nothing but your underwear and your uncomfortable shoes, your heart clamoring in your rib cage.

Looking you up and down once more, he stepped back and took in the whole scene before slinking back down into the chair in the corner, his hands moving down to undo his own belt and fly. He paused, however, to invite you forward again, urging you to close the few foot distance between you. You moved as instructed, still shaken as you stood a foot or so in front of him.

"Kneel."

Carefully, you lowered yourself down onto the scuffed old floor, cool against your bare knees as you looked up at him.

From this angle, it was much easier to see his whole face, including his eyes, and they were gorgeous. You hadn't noticed before, between the nerves and the hat, that they were like pools of dark honey. They distracted you so much that you missed him actually tugging his cock free. When you looked down at it, you were pleasantly surprised at how normal it looked, save for the radiation-roughened texture of the skin. Save for that, all the normal parts were there in normal quantities. You let out a very soft sigh of relief.

"Well, go on." he said, brandishing the thing at you like a weapon. "If you're gonna be a whore, you gotta act like one."

You could feel yourself pouting at his statement, and you hated it, hated the way his words rang through your brain, but you felt some ease at finally getting into something you had experience with, at least. Promptly crawling forward the last foot or so, you let yourself sit a tad more comfortably, leaning forward and reaching out to wrap your fingers around him.

"Uh-uh." he corrected, stopping you in your tracks. "If you're any good at it, you shouldn't need your hands."

This gave you some pause, scanning him over as your palms came to rest on the bit of exposed chair between his legs. Slowly, you leaned forward and dragged your tongue along the underside of his erection, sending it twitching at the contact. The man sitting before you hummed in approval, fully reclining against the back of the chair to watch you closely as you cocked your head somewhat awkwardly to allow your lips to wrap around the tip. He tasted differently than you were accustomed to, you thought as you began to let your head bob up and down on the first few inches of him, your tongue running along the leaking slit; there was an almost metallic aftertaste to him, like licking a cap.

"There you go." he praised lowly as you slid down to take as much of him as you comfortably could, his right hand coming to softly fist in your hair. The movement made you vaguely suspicious, and rightly so, as a few moments later, his other hand joined the first, and together they held your head in place, his hips pistoning up to fuck your face. You tolerated it well, only gagging at the last few thrusts when it seemed he was trying to push deeper and deeper. When you did, the sensation made him pull your head back, his saliva-coated cock laying against his leather-clad stomach as he appraised you, his eyes largely obscured again, drool all over your lips and chin.

"Let's move over to the bed, shall we?" he said, already standing by the time he finished.

Awkwardly, you attempted to right yourself out of your kneeling posture, but before you could even try, he stooped and grabbed you around the waist, tossing you over his shoulder like you weighed absolutely nothing. He was so strong and it made you blush as an indignant sound left you.

"Hey!" you let out before you could stop yourself. You weren't supposed to complain, but it felt like he was almost antagonizing you.

"Allow me." he replied, shooting you a look over his shoulder.

He dropped you down back onto the foot of the bed rather unceremoniously, your hair falling in your face and eyes; when you moved it away again, the switchblade was back in his hand, and you screamed again, unable to stop yourself.

"Keep it comin', sweetheart. I doubt anyone's rushing in here to help you. Honestly, I think they'd respond quicker if you quit screamin' for too long." he said, mocking.

"Quit scaring me and I'll quit screaming!" you shot back, righting yourself so that you were at least properly sitting upright.

"Boy, you sure do love to run that filthy little cocksucking mouth of yours, don'tcha?" he sneered, grabbing your hair again and yanking you close. "Pretty sure I'm payin' you to put out, not to bitch."

The blade traced back down your cleavage to dig into the waistband of your black bra, quickly slicing through it as well and sending your breasts popping out, the now damaged garment hanging uselessly from your arms. The ghoul insistently urged you down onto your back by your hair, and you followed, your legs dangling over the foot of the bed past your knee. For a moment, he simply looked at you.

"Open your mouth." he demanded, leaning over you.

You did as you were told, the command not unusual, but then he puckered his lips and let a rather large gob of spit fall onto your tongue, sending you gagging and scrambling to sit up.

"Nope. Swallow it." he said, maintaining that painful grip against your scalp, keeping you on your back. "You need to remember where your place is right about now, girlie."

Incensed, you hesitated a moment before forcing yourself to do as he told you. Your face was burning bright red with humiliation. He was still leaning over you, bringing the sharp edge close to your skin again. You steeled yourself, calling his bluff despite how dangerous that felt, trying your best to keep your eyes on his, challenging him as he traced the point across your flesh.

"Such pretty, smooth skin." he muttered, watching your reaction closely. "Looks good enough to slice a piece off and eat..."

As he spoke, he let the sharpened edge dig fully into the side of your breast, and you let out a whimper, your stomach rolling at the feeling, at his words. You were certain he was about to really hurt you.

However, he stopped after a moment, pulling the thing away to reveal nothing more than a thin red dash the length of the blade. A kitten scratch. A joke. You looked to him rather incredulously, and he rolled his eyes, folding the edge back into its handle, showing you that it was fully closed before tossing it across the room, landing with a thud in the chair.

"Since you're so afraid of it." he taunted, putting his hands on your hips to flip you onto your stomach. "Hands and knees. Face down."

A frustrated huff escaped you at this newest little jape as you pulled yourself up into the proper position, watching him out of the corner of your eye, your face buried in the musty mattress. It was hard to focus your vision like this, but you watched him move up towards the head of the bed until you couldn't see him anymore. There was a sound you couldn't put your finger on, quick and quiet, but by the time you could even hazard a guess at what it was, he'd seized your right arm by the wrist and was wrapping the rope he'd been carrying around it, finishing it off with a knot. This was enough for you to risk a quick glimpse in his direction, only to see that he'd used the lasso to tie your arm to the head of the bed. Your heart raced as he gave the knot at the headboard a yank before disappearing behind you, tugging your collar loose and dropping it on the floor.

He left the heels on.

"It's funny that these fancy casinos think all these dirtbags and desert rats'll come in here and just give up every weapon they have willingly. That's not how things work out there, and it's still not how they work in here, no matter how much they pretend it is." he mused, his voice making it seem almost as if he were talking to himself and not you. His still-gloved hand petted at the round globe of your ass.

Now you were annoyed. Why was he fucking with you like this?

"Are you a dirtbag or a desert rat?" you muttered into the sheets, jumping when he suddenly grabbed you by your hair again in response, holding you tight in his grip as he forced you to look at him.

"I'm the first thing, darlin'. It'll be good for you to learn the difference." he said, actually smirking at you, at the pained look on your face as the feeling once more burned in your scalp, one of his hands slowly moving up the back of your thigh to stroke your mound over your underwear. Quickly, he pushed them aside, his longest finger tracing up and down your embarrassingly wet slit, and you bit your lips hard to muffle the moan you wanted to let out.

Soon, he was working that finger inside you, then another, and another, all in quick succession; this wasn't about making you feel good, it was about making sure you could take him properly. You could feel the head of his cock nudging against your bare ass cheek, leaking and throbbing. He was eager, no matter how cool and calm he seemed to be.

"Spread your legs more." he mumbled, knee pushing at your right leg to "help" you open yourself wider for him. You did as much as possible, feeling like you could fall at any moment. However, you tensed again when you felt the tip of him slip through your folds, collecting some of the wetness there before sliding down to press at your entrance. You held your breath.

It burned when he pushed inside, though whether that was because of the rough texture of his skin or because you weren't completely prepared, you didn't know. He didn't give you much time to adjust to his size, simply bracing one knee against the mattress as he began to fuck you. The sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the room, his blunt cock head slamming painfully against your cervix.

At one point, he shifted himself higher over you, seeking a way to be deeper inside. The change in angle caused the slick head of his cock to slip out of you for a moment, pressing against your taut asshole for just a split second, but it was enough to make you panic, squirming wildly beneath him. Pure fear shot up your spine. He only laughed sardonically, tugging your hair to make you look over your shoulder at him.

"You're lucky I ain't real mean, sweetheart." he murmured, slamming his cock back into your leaking, sore cunt. The way it hit hard against your already tender cervix made you whimper, but you were glad he didn't do what you'd thought he was gonna do. It was upsetting you that you weren't more upset, frankly. The whole thing made you wanna be sick, especially the part where you were insanely close to orgasm suddenly.

"The funniest part of all this is that you're still gettin' off on it." he called you out as if he could read your mind.

You desperately shook your head, silent tears beginning to run down your cheeks and tickle onto your chin. You weren't enjoying this, weren't enjoying the rough way he was using you. You certainly weren't enjoying those strangely captivating eyes pinning you as he held you down.

"Please." he scolded. "It's one thing to be a whore. It's another thing to be a liar."

That actually managed to draw an embarrassing little sniffle from you; not his taunts, but the fact that you were fluttering so enthusiastically around him at his words. The man on top of you tilted his head again at this, watching you teeter on the edge of something terribly amazing.

"Poor pretty thing." he cooed with fake sympathy, rubbing away an errant tear with his thumb. Your neck ached at the angle he was holding it at. "Open."

You obeyed, and he spat in your mouth again. It actually didn't have much taste, and you swallowed with no complaint, your brain foggy from the rough way he was fucking you. The feeling of humiliation was still there, creeping hot up your back, but it also made you clench hard around him.

"Fuck." he snarled, suddenly pulling back from you, standing beside the bed again, one hand jerking himself as he grabbed you up onto your knees once more, his fist in your hair as he rubbed and slapped his throbbing cock against your face.

"Open your fuckin' mouth." he growled, pushing himself as far back down your throat as he could go as soon as you did, both hands cupping the back of your head as he skull-fucked you with wild abandon. Your hands braced on his hips, your efforts to blunt his thrusts futile. You gagged and choked and drooled as he used your throat; embarrassingly, one of your hands appeared on your swollen, aching clit, rubbing it in tight circles as he began to throb.

"Shit, girlie, you're gonna make me cum." he panted, pulling himself back from you, leaving you sputtering for air as he resumed rubbing his cockhead on your lips and cheeks. His eyes were burning into yours. "Better keep your mouth closed."

You clenched your lips between your teeth just as the first jet of his release hit your cheek, much thicker and hotter than you'd anticipated, another and then another, seemingly an endless amount covering your entire lower face, dribbling from your lips and chin as he groaned and growled his way through it. Your hand was still rubbing furiously between your legs, and he must've noticed, slipping his fingers down in place of yours and rubbing those same circles, his rough touch just what you needed to fall over the edge as well, moaning loudly as your whole body seized.

Everything was eerily quiet and calm as you both let your breathing settle, one hand supporting his weight against the wall by the head of the bed for a moment, his eyes hidden by the hat once more. Surprisingly, he undid the knot at the headboard, then the one around your wrist, tossing the rope down onto the floor next to the bed as he went rummaging around in his pockets. You noticed that he was tucked back away into his pants. Suddenly, a dingy handkerchief was pressed into your palm; it took you a moment to realize that he intended for you to clean the mess from your face with it.

You set to it, the incredibly thick, almost gelatinous substance difficult to wipe away with the thin square of cloth, but you managed to make it happen. Mostly. As you tidied yourself, he pulled the inhaler from one pocket and a rumpled pack of cigarettes from another, taking a puff and jamming a cig between his thin, cracked lips. He paused to hold the pack out to you, and you shook your head.

"You can take a break, kid. We've got all night." he said, lighting the smoke and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

You supposed he was right; you were absolutely exhausted physically after that whole ordeal, and it was his time. If he was alright with you resting some, you'd rest some. Carefully, you crawled up and laid your head on one of the pillows, your side against his back as he sat there, smoking and righting his clothes. In the back of your head, a little bug nagged at you.

"How did you know?" you asked, voice almost timid.

"Hmm?" he replied, his focus seemingly on re-winding the lasso.

"How did you know that, uh, tonight's my first night on the job?"

This got him to turn to you, a mischievous, but not unkind gleam in his gaze.

"I watched you for a while. Just got off the tram when you came outside, wanted a smoke. Noticed you. Couldn't not notice you. You looked like a nervous little bunny out there, just waitin' for a hawk to come and snatch you up."

"So you decided to be the hawk?"

"Yep."

You were both quiet again at this, the perfectly coiled rope now sitting near your feet. Outside, you could hear the clinking of glasses, the drunken laughter of gamblers and bar patrons. Your eyelids were so heavy.

You'd sort of assumed that you would want to cry yourself to sleep after what you'd been through, between the roller coaster of emotions and the general humiliation of it all; oddly enough, you didn't. Instead, you drifted off into a brief, fitful rest, dreaming of disgusting leather gloves and radiation-pillaged skin.

The Strip at twilight was quite the sight, the neon and bright colors washed mute by the early morning hues. It would be nice to stop and admire if you weren't so desperate to get out of town.

As much as you were loathe to admit it, the ghoul you'd been with the night before was right; you absolutely weren't cut out for this. You'd hated every single second of trying to entice people to pay you for sex, the way people had looked and leered at you as they'd gone by. Besides, your employers gave you the impression that they didn't have your best interest at heart. They also gave you the creeps.

And if anyone in the future wanted to go further than he had, you now knew you wouldn't be able to handle it. Though, you'd be lying if you said that you hadn't learned some things about yourself.

An unidentifiable feeling passed over you as you thought of him.

You'd awoken, shocked you'd managed to sleep at all, with quite the start, eyes frantically jumping to the clock to find that only about half an hour had passed. To your genuine surprise, the ghoul was gone, several hours still left in the time he'd paid for. The jug of water on the table was empty. You'd waited dutifully, naked on the bed, for the remainder of his time slot. You'd even kept the heels on. At first, you'd wondered if he'd maybe gone to the bar for a drink. But after another hour passed, you were fairly certain he wasn't coming back. Despite yourself, you were strangely disappointed.

At the end of his paid time, the end of your shift, you checked back in at the desk, collected your pay, and immediately went upstairs to collect your things.

Your meager possessions were few enough to fit into a little drawstring; you'd cast a quick glimpse at the destroyed shirt the man had cut off of you, crumpled on the floor with the rest of your uniform after you'd changed back into your dingy street clothes, before tucking it away into the bag. You weren't sure why. After that, you'd tucked the bag up inside your jacket, calmly walked outside for a "smoke", and kept walking until you made it outside the walls of Freeside, feeling like there were eyes on you the whole way. It was only once you were past the border of the junk fences that you allowed yourself to pause and take a shaky breath.

"You made the right choice." came a familiar drawl from behind you.

The voice startled you, already on edge as you worried about being followed from the casino, sending you freezing in the middle of the decaying road. Through the dusty haze, you could make out his hat and coat, emerging from behind a barricade of concrete, smoke in hand. The big gun was back in its place, slung loosely across his broad shoulders.

"You scared me." you hissed, your hand resting on your flying heart.

He tilted his head at you, those hauntingly beautiful eyes scanning you. He gave a shrug, which was very apparently not an apology.

"Where you headed?" he asked.

"I dunno." you confessed flatly, trying your best to not fidget in place. "Not here."

He took a long, long drag off of his smoke before dropping it into the dirt, stubbing it out with the toe of his boot before looking up at you underneath the brim of that accursed hat. Everything felt very familiar, all of the sudden. Another transaction waiting to happen.

"Quite the coincidence. I'm also headed 'not here'." he replied, quietly assessing you as he leaned against the barricade, lighting another cig.

You hesitated for a moment before responding, considering some things. But eventually, you replied, tone teasing:

"Looking for some company, are you?"

He smirked at you, smoldering cigarette hanging loosely between those vicious teeth.

"Sure am. Interested?"

You crossed the rest of the way over to him, standing close. The smell of leather and gunpowder washed over you once more.

"If you've got the caps, handsome."

#cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv show #fallout prime #submission

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ghoulsbounty · 6 months ago

Note

oh hi love 😻😻 soooooo… “Until Tomorrow” was everything I imagined and more.. ummm.. can i maybe perhaps request a part two??❤️❤️❤️ YOU CAN ADD ANYTHING!! it can be smutty or ANYTHING. you’re an amazing writer i love u.

and thank you :)

Until Tomorrow pt 2

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Bounty!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+), masturbation, thigh riding, caught in the act, maybe a little dub-con but not really?, Cooper is mean but kind of soft for reader (and hates it), touch starved, control, angst, mentions of paying for sex (not reader), only 5 words of dialogue.

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: Thank you so much for all of the love on part one, and for requesting a part two! This picks up where the first part finished, and is some really self-indulgent smut with an insight into Cooper's inner workings. I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

👉 Read part one HERE👈

Cooper Howard was no stranger to life's unpredictable twists. Whether they took the form of hidden perils or unexpected windfalls, he had consistently demonstrated a keen instinct and unyielding determination that had garnered him both admiration and infamy in the wasteland. His standing as a ghoul capable of weathering any storm was well-earned. Yet, on this particular evening, he faced a novel obstacle – one that pushed him to his breaking point and muddied the boundaries he had carefully established to stay alive.

His digits lingered on the clasp of his belt, drumming softly upon the cool metal with an air of vexation while he gazed upward at the star-speckled sky. A fleeting moment of poor judgement, the lingering sensation of your leg grazing his unmistakable arousal, had tempted him to succumb to his base desires and satisfy his craving. Yet, Cooper managed to rein in his impulses, commanding his intellect to dominate the surge of desire that pulsed through his cock as he inhaled your essence deeply.

He was smarter than this; he hadn't survived all these years in this hellish landscape by giving in to his whims at the first touch of a woman. Granted, he'd had numerous lovers, but none as guileless as you, and all at a considerable cost. Each liaison bore a price, sometimes paid in coin, other times in loyalty or secrets, and once even in blood. It was true that he'd been known to indulge in fleeting pleasures when the mood struck him, but he'd also learned to be cautious and weigh the potential consequences of his actions.

After all, he had a reputation to maintain and a position of power to uphold. Yet, despite his reservations, there was an inexplicable allure about you – the way you clung to him for comfort, even though he was the one responsible for your suffering, the pink welt left from the rope where he had bound your wrists still marred your skin. It was a contradiction that enticed him to disregard his cautious demeanour and investigate the boundaries of your resilience.

With a deep exhale, his fingers returned to their earlier task.

He couldn't tell how long it had been since he started the slow, methodical movements of stroking his cock with his gloved hand, attuned to the faint, sultry sounds that now and then slipped from your mouth while you dozed next to him, to which he responded with a tender increase in pressure. The abrasive texture of the glove's material offered a friction that, with each insistent stroke and release, delivered the peculiar blend of ecstasy and slight pain that he had come to desire. Having endured for countless centuries, it was only through discomfort that he could find any semblance of solace.

As he continued to caress himself, his thoughts fixated on you, the soft curves and delicate features that filled his mind. He wondered if you had ever experienced the touch of a man, felt the ebb and flow of an impending orgasm, and then dared to imagine you coming undone on his own fingers. Despite quickly reprimanding himself for having such forbidden thoughts, he couldn't shake the feeling of the boundary he should not cross and the one he had already transgressed.

Looking down at your hand resting innocently on his abdomen, he couldn't help but imagine how your gentle fingers would feel against the rough bumps of his shaft. The contrast between your flesh, soft and delicate, and his so harsh, stirred a curiosity that he struggled to suppress. He tried to distract himself by focusing on the sensations coursing through his body, but his thoughts always seemed to find their way back to you, and the temptation to cross that line grew stronger with each passing moment.

With a conflicted sigh, he lifted his unoccupied hand to his mouth and nimbly pulled off the glove with his teeth. The leather peeled back, unveiling his exposed hand which he laid over yours on his middle with deliberate care. The feel of you under his touch, so fragile and unawares, sparked a reaction that made him throb against his palm.

His thumb glided along the slit of his cock, gathering the clear droplets of arousal into thick globules that he then spread around his thickness, easing the friction as he stroked himself with a steady rhythm. The stimulation was heightened by the feel of your soft skin brushing against his, a sensation that sent shivers through him as he gently skimmed his fingers over your knuckles. His gaze flitted to you, wondering whether the extended contact might stir you from your sleep, yet you merely exhaled in peaceful satisfaction, your face burrowed now into his chest.

Cooper clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to let out a moan as your thigh made contact with his sensitive balls, sending a jolt of sensation racing through him. His hips lunged forward of their own accord, his body reacting with fervent need as he simultaneously fucked himself with a frantic rhythm and ground himself against the solidity of your thigh. Each movement etched lines of desire and satisfaction across his ghoulish features as his back arched, bracing against the coarse fabric of the bedroll as he lost himself to the limited feel of you.

He knew that his senses were dulling, his awareness of the world around him fading like the last rays of a setting sun. It was a perilous descent into a realm of vulnerability, one he rarely allowed himself to enter, especially when he was saddled with such a valuable cargo. Yet, in the privacy of his thoughts, he succumbed to the dangerous fantasy, squeezing his eyes shut with an intensity that bordered on desperation. In that shadowy sanctuary of his mind, he conjured the image of you, your hands taking the place of his own, your touch igniting a fire that his ravaged body hadn't felt in ages.

It was a reckless indulgence, a stark departure from his usual vigilance. But you had awakened something within him, something primal and undeniable. Beneath the ghoulish exterior, marred by the relentless march of radiation, there remained a man, a man with desires and longings that refused to be quenched by the harsh realities of his existence. You had started this, whether intentionally or not, and now he grappled with the consequences of his own humanity, a humanity that stubbornly clung to life despite the monstrous transformation that sought to smother it.

Succumbing to his desires, he whispered to himself that a bit more would suffice, just a few more strokes and he'd be satisfied. It was then he perceived your subtle movement next to him, a sharp intake of breath as your fingers clenched the fabric of his duster. He gripped them in a bid to stop you from inevitably fleeing, his hips coming to a complete stop as you both lay there. His chest rose and fell with each laboured breath as he cast his gaze downward, fixating on you with an intense stare while you watched, eyes wide, as his hand firmly grasped his erect member mere inches away from you.

Neither of you stirred as you both took in the sight. Beads of precum glistened, oozing from the inflamed slit of his cock, standing out against the darkness of his gloved hand that gripped it firmly. You seemed to consider him for a moment, and he braced himself to overpower you should you attempt to exploit his momentary weakness to flee.

Instead, you gently wriggled your fingers within his grasp, repeating the motion when he did not yield, until he finally let go with a degree of wariness. Your hand glided down his torso, fingertips skimming the edge of his shirt until they met his gloved hand, following the intricate stitching until they grazed the bare skin of his length, tentatively stroking the pronounced furrows. His breath caught as he observed you, his firmness quivering in his hand as you circled your forefinger over the sensitive head, spreading the precum that welled up under your caress.

Cooper fought against every urge to force your hand around him, to thrust into it until he was seeing stars. The delicate contact of your skin against him caused his mind to malfunction, and had he not been a proud man, he would have begged for more. As if reading his thoughts, your fingers gradually wrapped around him, positioning themselves above his own grip at the base while trying to encircle his sheer size. He gave a tentative thrust of his hips, probing your determination before he began to fuck into his hand and yours at an almost frantic rhythm.

Cooper's stifled moans reverberated through the darkness, his grip on the base of himself becoming rougher to counterbalance your delicate touch with the pain that heightened his pleasure. His cock throbbed under your ministrations, the rush of blood echoing in his ears as he maneuvered his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. He felt your body press firmly against his, your clothed cunt grinding against his leg, and a blissful moan slipped from your mouth. He believed it would be the end of him.

"Fuck," he sighed, his voice a mix of strain and desire as he slowed his thrusts. He adjusted his position, bending his knee so that his thigh pressed firmly between your own, creating an intimate pressure. "Ride it, go on," he urged, his tone both commanding and coaxing, inviting you to take control and find your rhythm against him.

He sensed your initial hesitation, followed by the sudden heat of your arousal as you began to move, bucking and writhing against him as you lay beside him on your bedroll, seeking your pleasure. He anchored himself by planting the boot of his other leg firmly on the ground, continuing to stroke himself with urgency as he fucked up into his hand.

As you relentlessly thrust against him, your hand tightly gripping his swollen shaft, your breaths grew heavy and ragged, accompanied by moans of unbridled pleasure. The harmonious blend of your ecstatic sounds and the wet, slurping noises of his cock sliding through your fingers brought him precariously close to the edge, yet he was determined for you to come first. He found himself curious about the nature of your cries, wondering if they would be pathetic or even endearing when you finally reached your peak. This thought spurred him to delay his own release, focusing instead on the increasing fervour of your hips grinding against him and the surge of warm, sticky wetness seeping through the leg of his pants.

At last, you let out a broken scream, your voice cracking as you were consumed by the intensity of your orgasm. He was right; it was utterly pitiful, but also incredibly alluring. You continued to writhe against him with abandon, your movements sloppy and desperate as he clenched his jaw, powerless to stop himself from chasing his own peak. You witnessed his final, frantic thrusts, his cum erupting from his flushed cockhead in thick ropes, coating your hand and dripping down your fingers as he rode out the last shockwaves of his release.

As the intensity of his climax subsided, you maintained your hold on him, observing the spill of the white fluid as it coated your fingers and trickled down to his thumb. Cooper released a deep, resonant breath, his hand groping blindly behind you until it landed on your bag. He delved into it and extracted a well-worn shirt. Pressing it against the juncture of your hands, he enfolded you in the crook of his arm, diligently wiping your skin clean of his essence, until only a fine, tacky sheen remained, clinging to your flesh like a second skin

He went through the same steps for himself, then tossed the dirty cloth aside. He pulled away from your slack grasp and tucked himself in. Your hand automatically sought warmth between your bodies, resting against your beating heart. You didn't try to distance yourself from him, your leg still coiled around his, keeping his thigh tightly pressed against your core. It was moist and somewhat uncomfortable, but as you both came down from your shared highs, the harsh cold of the night returned to your bones. His hand remained firmly on your back, holding you in place.

Cooper gazed up at the stars, listening to your breathing as it slowed, settling into a calm rhythm that contrasted sharply with the tumultuous events of the night. He marvelled at how easily you could drift into sleep, even after everything that had happened. You must have known the effect you had on him—you had burrowed beneath his tough exterior, the first to ever do so, the first to fracture his ironclad resolve.

Now, he was left with a burning question: what was he supposed to do next? Indulging in you had been a moment of weakness, a slip he couldn't afford to repeat. You weren't meant for him, nor did you belong to him, and he didn't truly desire you—not entirely. It was merely a fraction of him that did, that stubborn, nagging part he constantly tried to suppress because it had no place in the perilous wasteland. Here, vulnerability was a liability, and Cooper Howard prided himself on being anything but weak. Yet with you, he seemed to falter.

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, he resolved to cast you aside, bind you once more, and ensure the knot was tighter, harsher this time, just for good measure. You couldn't be allowed to think you had outsmarted him, nor could he permit you to believe he would show you any leniency from now on. There was a bounty to be claimed, but until that moment arrived, he contemplated as he drew you nearer to him, perhaps this wouldn't be so detrimental to his health.

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #fallout #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #fallout prime #fallout fanfiction #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout x reader #fic request

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rebelliousstories · 6 months ago

Text

Old Wound

Relationship: Cooper Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mentions of Death, Brief Strong Language

Word Count: 1,167

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: She was supposed to be dead. He held her while she died in his arms. How is she here?

“You ever think about what’s gonna happen when we’re dead, cowpoke?” She asked.

It was a cool night, probably winter now if Cooper was remembering right. It had been so long since he felt a proper winter that he was not sure after all these years. He turned his head to the woman that was resting on his chest as they huddled around a fire to keep away the chill.

“You on drugs or somethin’?” Cooper’s serious tone made the woman burst out with laughter. She pushed herself up so that she was level with his face to look into his beautiful ocean blue eyes.

“No but, you’ve survived centuries. I may get a few decades if I’m lucky. I was just wondering if you’ve ever thought about what’ll happen when we die.” Her repeated question did not even make The Ghoul miss a beat.

“We’re gonna become food for someone or somethin’ else. That’s what’s gonna happen.” He stated, trying to get the woman to lay back down.

“I meant the afterlife, baby. Like do you think that there’s the pearly gates, or just nothingness?” She laid back down and let the man run his ungloved hand over her head, and through her hair.

“I hope there’s an afterlife, but if there is anything these last couple centuries have taught me is that God is cruel. So whatever is waiting for us, we take it as it comes.” Howard pressed a kiss in the wake of his hand and felt the woman relax into him. That answer seemed to pacify her as they settled in for the night and went to bed.

If only he could ask her what was waiting for them on the other side of death’s embrace. It had only been a couple weeks and the sting was still fresh, but you know cowpokes. They take it as it comes. Cooper had been traveling alone this entire time with a chip on his shoulder, and saddened eyes.

Walking into Filly, there was a vacancy in his pouch where his chems would be. The thought alone made him want to shoot something. She always got his chems for him because they would give the pretty girl a discount, but the ghoul behind her would get nothing. He had not needed to get his own since she began traveling with him a couple of years ago.

A sign on the door pointed him to where he needed to go. His spurs clinked against the wooden floors as he went inside the little apothecary. There was a bell that he ringed, and soon a man stepped out from behind a curtain.

“Sixty chems.” The Ghoul left no room for small talk, and set the necessary caps on the counter between them. Without a word, the man disappeared and retrieved the items for the mutant. Each man pocketed their own items and said nothing as they turned to go back to what they were doing before.

As soon as Cooper stepped out, gasps and shouts were heard through the downtown area. At first he thought it was him; ghouls were not exactly welcomed in many parts, especially him. But it was not. A woman in distressed clothing was walking around and looking for someone or something with desperation in her eyes. Looking at her from underneath the lip of his hat, The Ghoul thought that her clothing was remarkably familiar.

“Get lost, Ghoul. You ain’t welcome round here.” One of the shopkeepers shouted at the woman, who was clearly very lost. She said nothing as she kept looking around and did not even respond to the man. However she did respond when someone threw something at her. Trying to protect herself, she reached for something on her hip, only for that object to not be there. It was not until she turned around the Cooper felt his breath catch and his heart stop.

It was her. His little spitfire girl was right in front of him. There was no way though. She had bled out in his arms. She died in his arms. He felt the last breath leave her body, and her pulse stop. And yet, here she was. Standing in front of him as if nothing had happened. The sound of a gun cocking caught his attention, as well as the end of a barrel trained on the woman. In an instant, Howard shot the assailant first before he had time to harm the woman. She did not flinch, but rather calmly looked to where he stood and gasped out his name in a hushed whisper.

Cooper marched right up to her, and observed. Not a hair was different from the last time he had seen her. He did not even allow for another moment to pass as he grabbed her arm and began to drag her from the market. Once they were in a quiet part, he let go and could not hold his tongue.

“Who the hell are you? Why are you wearin’ her clothes?” Cooper demanded, holding his gun out to point at the woman.

“What- what are you talking about. Coop, it’s me. This isn’t funny.” She pleaded, feeling afraid as this was the first time in years that she had been at the end of his gun.

“Prove it,” he breathed, “what did you tell me you hoped was waiting for us in death?”

“I never told you.” She whispered. “But you told me that no matter what, we cowpokes take it as it comes, so it didn’t matter. Please Coop. Just put the gun down.”

With a deep breath in and out, he did as she asked. Cooper rushed forward and took in another deep breath, this time with the scent of her. But there was something off about her scent. It smelt much more… ghoulish. Pulling away, he saw her same eyes staring back at him. Those same eyes that he begged to open just one more time a few weeks ago.

“How?” Cooper asked, running his hands everywhere he could.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what I am, or what happened that I came back. All I know is that one minute I’m in your arms, and the next I’m picking myself up off the ground and all alone.” She repeated the process of running her hands everywhere she could as her lover was doing to her.

“Hate to break it to ya, sweetheart, but I think you’re a little like me. Who the hell knows with all the radiation bullshit.” He whispered, chuckling lightly at the face she pulled when he proposed his theory.

“I guess there are worse things to be. I’m just glad I found you again.” Cooper was brought into a tight embrace, as she buried her face into his chest and breathed in his scent.

“Me too, darlin’. Me too.” He whispered back, pressing kisses to her hair as he was glad to just hold her in his arms again.

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout #fallout imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #cooper howard x oc #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul x oc

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lanabuckybarnes · 8 months ago

Text

Always.

This is a sequel to Empty Words. I had someone ask for it and I was also thinking of writing one so here it is. I don’t know if it’ll be as good as the first part but I hope it’s up to your standards.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none?? If you see any plz lemme know and I’ll add them.

Words: 1.1k

EMPTY WORDS

"How long has it been?"

"70 years."

The words replayed in her head constantly. It had been a year since that day, since she’d woken from her Cryo-sleep. Steve sat by her side telling her it was no longer 1945 but much later, she shouldn’t even be alive.

Tony, Howard Stark's son, had been generous enough to offer her a place to stay at the compound. She had been fed by the girl, Wanda, every day and they gave her peace since she so desperately needed it.

She never got to grieve for Bucky, not long after Steve told her of his passing, she was captured. For some Hydra experiments, according to the guy who turned green.

She still had Bucky’s jacket. She’d woken up with it wrapped around her frame, and she refused to take it off. It was the only part of him she had left.

A knock sounded throughout the room. "It's me, I've got dinner," Steve spoke from the other end of the door, his voice slightly muffled by the thick wood.

"Come in." She spoke, her words monotone and quiet.

He set the tray of food down on the bed, pasta and sauce. Wanda’s favourite. He picked up on her gloom quite easily, it must have been a perk of the super soldier serum.

"Are you alright?" Steve questioned softly, a reassuring hand rubbing her shoulder clad in the dark military jacket. He watched as she picked at the food but never put any of it near her mouth.

He knew better than to push people to talk about their feelings, he hated it when people did it to him.

They had both bonded over Bucky. In the 40s, they never really got the chance— he was too busy being Captain America, and she was too busy saving people's lives away from the frontline. He had never really spoken to her, he knew a bit about her from his old friend’s stories but besides telling her about Buck he’d never really seen her himself. In the past year though, the two had become good friends.

"It's... our anniversary, today." Her voice was small, like the squeak of a mouse, almost as if speaking any louder would scare him away. Steve didn't know how to answer. He was an excellent soldier and had always been great with words, but even he became tongue-tied at the mention of Bucky.

He blamed himself, he could have done so much better than what he did. Countless nights he stayed awake wondering how he could have changed the past, how he could convince Tony to invent some contraption and put himself in Bucky's place. Maybe he would have survived the fall.

"I'm sorry," Steve's voice mimicked her own. His arms wrapped around her smaller frame in a warm embrace, the only form of comfort he could truly give her at that moment.

She cried into his arms that night. When he eventually left she’d flopped her weak body onto the large bed that was far too comfy. She tossed and turned with Bucky's coat, hoping, wishing that dreaming hard enough would bring him back.

The compound was under attack, she had strict orders to stay in her room. Steve had warned her, promised that he’d keep them away from her but passed her a pistol as a last resort.

She could hear the sounds of bullets flying around, hitting walls and people. She felt helpless just sitting on the wide windowsill watching the world go by, what could she truly do though?

Just as a dark feathered bird flew by her window the hairs on her neck stood on end— there were eyes on her, someone stood at her door. She mentally cursed herself for setting the gun on the bedside table.

The presence stalked forward, till his thigh bumped her shoulder. Her head tried to turn to him but the feeling of coolness; a metal hand, spread over the top of her head and turned her back to face the window slowly.

The cool fingers dropped to the side of her face, tucking a few loose stands behind her ear. Was he trying to torture her? or was she finally receiving a final act of kindness before the sweet release of death? Her eyes squeezed tight in preparation, no matter the outcome she would not watch.

Death never came, no, instead the soldier flopped his large body down beside her. He was still as rigid as before, she could feel as much from the way his arm brushed against hers.

When she finally turned to look at the face of the last man she’d ever see, her killer— the muscles around her eyes pulled them wide and her breath caught in her throat.

His eyes, although obstructed by dark locks of her, emulated hers, shock evident in those deep blues along with the reflection of something she knew danced in hers— Recognition.

“B-Bucky?” She hadn’t realised tears were falling from her eyes until she spoke, her voice breaking. His head nodded softly, almost unnoticeable and his eyes glazed over as well. After all these years they were both alive, and the past 70 years' worth of bottled-up emotions bubbled over. She pulled him forward into her arms.

The way his tired body slumped forward into her frame told her he’d faced a similar story, he’d been holding onto a lot too. She could see Steve’s frame standing in her doorway in shock from her peripherals but she couldn’t find the will to glance at him. Not when he was here, not when Bucky was home.

“You came back” she whispered into his hair.

“Always”.

“Bahhhh!” God those goats were impatient. It must’ve been around 6 am, and the Wakandan heat blared through the mud-coloured walls.

“BAHHHH” the goat wailed again, more desperate and demanding than before. A groan sounded from the man behind her, his arm pulling her close and his lips ghosting over her bare shoulder.

“You gotta get up and feed them” she whispered silently hoping they’d disappear and leave them in each other’s arms, at least for a little bit longer. The heat made their embrace almost impossible to withstand but she’d missed years' worth of closeness to him, some sun wasn’t going to stop her now.

His grumbling vibrated against her neck before he pushed himself up to sit. He was quite the sight shirtless, much more muscular than before. The soft blue fabric wrapping around his left side and over his shoulder complimented his skin perfectly.

“Fucking goats” he complained as he threw the deep red fabric over his body, doing as much as he could with one arm before shifting to her for help.

Her fingers moved expertly over the fabric as they did every day, fastening it to his body before pulling half of his long hair into a bun.

“Love you” Her breath blew between his shoulder blades, her lips pressing into the nape of his neck as she wrapped the thin belt around his waist from behind— she’d become so familiar with the routine she could secure it with her eyes shut. He couldn’t help the way his worries fell apart at her soft touch.

His body twisted to face her naked one, his right hand finding her left, squeezing tight before dropping his fingers to roll the thin gold band around her ring finger; a symbol of his promise fulfilled. The matching one secured around his neck.

Steel blues ran up from their joined hand to her face, searching for her own eyes, asking in silence for permission that she was glad to give him as she leaned forward locking their lips together in a sultry dance that mimicked one of the many they shared all those years ago.

“Bahhhhh” he growled into the kiss and she couldn’t help the bubble of laughter rising from her throat. He’d never get a moment's peace with his girl with those beasts around.

Tags: @matchat3a

#bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #marvel #mcu bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #winter soldier #winter solider x reader

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deacons-wig · 8 months ago

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I'd prefer if we never got to see the origin of Vault Boy and Vault Tec's branding in the same way I'd rather not get a canon answer of who started the War or how. That's the point of War Never Changes.

Vault Boy is a sinister figure in his cheerful embrace of Armageddon. Giving the Vault Tec brand a face and a name and a backstory feels so unimportant to what is actually interesting about Fallout. What's important to me is the big picture pre war, and the details of what comes after.

What is interesting to me is exploring how propaganda is designed to convince people how close they are to annihilation--or homelessness, unemployment, obscurity, or being The Other and therefore destined to suffer--in hell, in oppressions, being ostracized. Honestly insert any sort of marginalization or suffering here. Crony capitalism uses propaganda to market products designed to manipulate people into buying distance between themselves and that annihilation. Putting themselves "behind the thumb" of Vault Boy, so to speak. Buying a lifestyle. Vault Boy does it with a wink and a smile, inviting those who can afford it to buy their way to safety while using capital and fear to perpetuate the cycle. I don't need the specifics to understand this.

Some ghoulnaysis below the cut:

I'll admit, my initial reaction to pre-war Ghoulgins being the inspiration for Vault Boy was funny! Mr. Cooper Howard, washed up actor experiencing an existential crisis being shoehorned into corporate propaganda that then haunts him for the next 200+ years? Selling manifest destiny, racism, the Rugged Individual, the revisionist history that cowboys were a) white and b) more than a brief footnote in the history of the colonization of North America's west. The commodification of entertainers/creatives/public figures. Selling identities to be packaged into a product that will outlive them? Only to have that person live alongside that role they regret (?) playing... kinda tasty, if we have to give Vault Boy a backstory, though I didn't get a clear sense of his actual feelings about being used as a propaganda guy which I think is a failure of the show to commit to the narrative they set up, which happens with a lot of the show's (lack of) engagement with Fallout's larger themes anyway.

But The Ghoul (stupid name!!! weird and boring choice!!!) is just such an uncompelling and repellent character to me. I love a good bad guy or even anti-hero, but honestly he lacks any interiority. He's an evil karma character (eats people, waterboards and mutilates people, sells people to organ harvesters...like? that literally makes you evil in the games...) but the narrative pushes him as an antihero or someone with gray morality because he what..."likes" dogs? And isn't as decayed or unsettling looking as other ghouls (implying handsome=good or interesting). People aren't afraid of him because he is a ghoul, they're afraid of him because he's evil and will hurt them! Sometimes for no reason! I see the callback to the director telling him to shoot his co-star and Cooper saying he's "the good guy," but is that why he becomes so fucking evil post war? Really?

I don't know why he does what he does other than...the world sucked before and sucks now so he might as well represent the basest of human behavior? That seems to be the thesis of the show--unless kindness and community is engendered (by the vaults, by Management, by a civic government, by corporations) people will descend into chaos.

So why have this poorly executed anti-hero be the origin of Vault Boy? What are the narrative choices being made here? Is it just Rule of Cool?

Personally I would like a pathetic, rotting wet cat of a ghoul, some sort of carved out husk of a washed up movie star either trying to relive his glory days, or avoid them--having given up hope of finding his family after 200 years--being dragged into Lucy's orbit and being constantly reminded of his Vault Boy fame, that she is a walking Vault Girl with her Okey Dokey's and Golden Rule. He'd be a joke, a footnote of the old world. He'd be mean and snarky, even unpredictable and uncooperative--have a public persona of friendly curiosity and a private, cynical one.

Pathetic Ghoulgins would remind audiences of the cost of capitalism and imperialism without resorting to the thesis that war never changes means that people are inherently cruel and will resort to violence, rather than existent corporate and political power structures intentionally create the conditions in which people accept perpetual cycles of exploitation and harm for the sake of their own safety and comfort, despite knowing the cost of maintaining the status quo, and not seeing or believing that distance between the status quo and total annihilation is measured by the smiling thumbs up of a cartoon mascot.

I'm sure there are other ways The Ghoul could have been a successful character as well but.... That's satire. That's interesting. That's Fallout.

#fallout #fallout tv #fallout prime #fallout tv show #the ghoul #cooper howard #vault tec #“let people enjoy things” well i enjoy critical analysis #i dislike the big picture of the show but i love fallout enough to dig through the mess #fotv critical #fallout critical

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ihaznoclue · 2 months ago

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Could I request Grace, Billy, and Lycaon with a very energetic s/o who loves praising them?

Pairings -> Grace Howard, Billy Kid, Von Lycaon x Reader

Warnings -> None

Note -> Reader is energetic and loves praising their partner

Genre -> fluff

Grace Howard

She matches your energy sometimes when she wants to

But you're more energetic than her as well as praising on her work and machinery

She would happily clap at herself for doing a good job on her new machinery

Then you would come along and see what she made and praise her for how hard she must of worked on that

She would be so happy to actually have someone to tell her she did a good job on her machinery work

'Woah! Grace did you make this?" You looked up at a turned off machine but it looked cool in your view

"Sure did, But I need to add more stuff to it" Grace spoke as she examined it a bit closer

"It looks cool! You're such a great engineer Grace, the things that you make are always going to turn out great in the end!"

"Oh Why thank you sweetie" Grace gave you a genuine smile

"I can't wait to see what it looks like when it's finished!"

"Don't worry It would be finished in no time!"

"And this is why your the best Grace"

Billy Kid

I feel like he would geek out when he gets a compliment from you

Maybe Billy and you are in a hollow fighting Ethereal creature and you catch Billy off guard after defeating the creatures

You would totally praise him on his fighting skills with his guns

"No bad Billy, You are actually skilled with those guns huh?" You gave him a cheeky smile as you walked up to him

"Why thank you!" He would then bow, you giggled as this as you playfully shook your head as you gave a eye roll

"I'm serious Billy, You actually good with those weapons of yours, I could tell Nicole got the right member and I got the right man who can protect me"

You chuckled, it looked like Billy's yellow eyes turned into hearts as he started to geek over your compliment from his very own soulmate

"Aw Name! Come here!"

"Wha- Billy!"

Von Lycaon

This man properly hasn't got much praise in his life

But that would change as you would praise him on his hard work and how professional he is

Like come on you have a hard-working boyfriend on your hands that just want someone to compliment on it

He would be shocked but he would keep his professional stance but secretly his tail would wag

"Good Job Lycaon, you managed to keep the mansion clean because of your hard work" You said

"Why thank you Name, but it's just simple cleaning"

"Simple cleaning? Lycaon I have you know that you cleaned an entire mansion on your own even with a bit of my help, but you did it yourself and you took a lot of work"

Lycaon smiled as he thanked you again, seeming that no-one tells him he's doing a hard day of work

But you were there to reassure him that he did a good job, even though you did your room but he did the whole mansion which would take you a couple of days because of your motivation

But Lycaon needed to know he did a amazing job

-A<3

#zenless zone zero #zzz #zenlesszonezero #zenless zone zero x reader #grace howard zzz #zzz grace #grace howard x reader #grace howard #billy kid #zzz billy #billy kid zzz #zzz billy kid #billy kid x reader #zzz von lycaon #von lycaon zzz #von lycaon #von lycaon x reader

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evansbuck-ley · 2 months ago

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okay but when buck and tommy eventually have kids, uncle chimney is going to be insufferable. just imagine it.

uncle chimney being one of the first, alongside maddie, to go and see the new baby after they brought him home and he is just openly weeping at the sight of his little buckaroo holding tiny henry robert buckley-kinard. (though he still insists through the tears that howard is a better middle name than robert)

uncle chimney taking pictures and videos of everything that his nephew does, every sneeze, every laugh, every smile. he shares them in the 118 group chat and prints doubles of the pictures, one set to put in the baby box that buck and tommy made and another to give to maddie for her little “evan” box she made after everyone found out about daniel.

uncle chimney always jumping at the chance to babysit whenever they need it because he’s secretly trying to make sure that “howie” is henry’s first word.

uncle chimney being the first person that henry runs to whenever they are at a family gathering because “uncle chimney is just so cool daddy” and chim being so smug over the fact that his nephew thinks he is cooler than his own dad who is a firefighter and a pilot.

i could just talk about this for hours PLS tim give me it all

#chimney han #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #ALSO I know everyone loves the idea of girldads! bucktommy #BUT not enough people talk about boydads! bucktommy #and I want to scream about it okay #jamie rambles #henry buckley kinard #boydads! bucktommy #henryverse

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 7 months ago

Note

Prompt: Tommy angst? 👁👄👁

I didn't know I needed this. But I did. And I loved it, so, thanks! I combined this prompt with one of my personal head canons that one poor soul on Discord agreed to talk with me about 😂 So, have Tommy angst (about Buck, of course) and the idea, that Tommy might not be so confident after all.

Kill the Pain Away

–– I was gonna hope to choke the fire I was gonna face up and let go Oh, I was gonna ally with the golden guising And by the light of dawn, I'd put my brave face on ––

That evening in Buck's loft was etched in Tommy's memory.

Yes, also because of their first kiss that started something Tommy hadn't expected, though he appreciated it all the more. Most of all, he couldn’t forget it because Buck, that inimitable man with his puppy eyes and this smooth face had managed to coax a secret out of him, and he had willingly revealed it. As he’d opened up, Tommy had meant every word: he had been jealous of the bonds the 118 found after his leaving. He still was, actually.

Never as much as now.

As a pilot, Tommy wasn’t able to just cancel his shift, couldn’t ask anybody to take over when he was already in the air. And so, while his thoughts were far, far below, he continued to circle above the city that seemed so much bigger than usual. And although he usually enjoyed escaping the hustle and bustle, would have exchanged the street for the clouds at any day, right now he wanted nothing more to be on solid ground. But right now, he couldn’t, and he had nothing but his thoughts and a text message he’d already stared at for about ten times. It was a tough shift, as it often was when air support was needed; it was hard to control the fire, but even harder to contain the one burning in his chest.

The text was from Hen, and he’d been wondering for half an hour whether she had only written because she felt she owed him. Those were dark thoughts, Tommy knew, but sometimes, they were unstoppable; especially up here, trapped in the cockpit which was meant to be his freedom. The message was terse, unemotional, yet it evoked so many emotions in him.

Buck injured during op. Heading to St Mary’s now.

Contrary to his fondness for Hallmark movies, Tommy wasn't interested in astrology, he didn't believe in fate and thought love at first sight was a beautiful but irrational myth. Meeting Buck, and more so, learning that the cool kid of the 118 was interested in him, had been... strange, and kind of overwhelming. As luck would have it, he made friends with Eddie very quickly, and both he and his boy mentioned Buck remarkably often. From this, Tommy gathered the man had taken his place at the 118 in an extraordinary way. They had only exchanged a few words during the breakneck rescue operation for Athena and Bobby, and when the next opportunity arose, Tommy was prepared to meet some kind of superman. Somehow Hen, Howard and even Bobby and Athena, who were adamant about thanking him personally, managed to weave Buck into every conversation.

Tommy was therefore surprised that the man turned out to be anything but one of the usual powerhouses, brimming with self-confidence; not one of those arrogant types who rush into every burning house but have no respect for their colleagues.

Buck looked like a surfer boy, but Tommy sensed that something was lurking behind this façade of sunshine. Something about Buck was purely Evan, and it was mesmerizing.

Even more surprising for Tommy was to realize he was head over heels in love.

They had told him the man was a notorious womanizer, ironically they thought this was common ground, "you'll like him, you'll definitely have something to talk about, your exes". It was clear they meant women, because nobody in the 118 knew at this time. But Buck had sent out some very mixed signals in Tommy’s eyes, and yes, maybe he had been his gay awakening or some shit. Buck, at any rate, had been his awakening of sorts. Maybe Tommy was just a romantic deep inside, but this man, this man…

Tommy's radio crackled, and he bit his lower lip until it bled. Thinking of Buck distracted him, and that was irresponsible. How many times had his hand jerked to his phone, ready to answer the message, to ask questions, to beg for information. He hadn't done it because not only would it have been highly unprofessional; he shouldn't even have looked at the phone while he was on the job.

"10-19 for active units on scene, fire under control."

Tommy hastily tapped the intercom button, "Air support dismissed?"

"Copy that, air support dismissed."

Dispatch sounded almost cheerful, and perhaps there was reason to be – the fire was under control, according to the radio reports there were no casualties; these were the good, the satisfying jobs. Tommy, however, was anything but content. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t even interested in how the job had turned out. The cockpit was suddenly tighter than ever before, the ground much further away, and the loop he had to fly seemed to take so much longer. His hand gripped the controls so hard that his knuckles turned white.

That message could mean anything.

Anyone who was not interested in logic, in cool calculations, was not suited to be a pilot. In this respect, it was pointless to get carried away with what ifs. On the other hand, pilots without instinct were just machine operators. But his instincts weren't helping Tommy right now, except to remind him of all the things that could go wrong. Because one thing Buck really was: a fucking daredevil.

Tommy had experienced it once, during one of those dates that simply hadn’t happened because an incident had interrupted it. Every firefighter knew that a day off could very quickly turn into an emergency call-out. Like most in the services, they took it with humor, they collected the incidents and called them their overtime list, hours to make up for later in bed.

This one time, Tommy had happened to drive right past the accident on his way home, catching a glimpse of the 118 in action. Something inside him had struck a chord of wistfulness, but then he’d seen Evan. No, at that moment he had really just been Buck. Buck, who threw himself under a burning vehicle with a child trapped underneath.

Every firefighter suffered injuries at some point. They all had scars, and they were unduly proud of them. But some of them did not boast about the strength of the fire in which they were burned, nor about the weight of the steel that had trapped them. Some scars were rarely shown, and some were internal: all these were from saved lives. And Tommy knew what it was like to be the one to whom this happened. The one who was hurt. No one was really prepared for the pain, and no one liked to remember it. What Tommy hadn't known, however, was what it would be like to be on the other side. Anyone who got injured was afraid; a fact that was often left out of the bragging stories. But that kind of fear was completely different to the one he felt now, this fear was terrifying.

And how did this happen in the first place? A pair of blue eyes and a sunshine face, that wouldn't have been enough to penetrate his façade in the past. But somehow that's what it was all about. To look behind the guise. Making yourself vulnerable without hurting. Because what was really deep inside was beautiful, worth letting out and discovering –but it was still terrifying. He had only known the guy for a few weeks. Buck had stormed into his life, throwing himself into this crazy rescue operation with determination, a look in those pretty eyes that clearly said, you better get on with this, because I will walk through fire for these people.

There was something about him that magnetically attracted other people, and it wasn't just his handsome face or his sometimes awkward charm. Something about him had made a string in Tommy resonate that hadn't been tuned for a while. Something in Buck made people go through the blaze for him, too. Tommy would happily return to the fire that they had already successfully fought, would walk right through the embers if he had to, if only it was clear in the end that nothing had happened to Evan.

As the aircraft sank lower, he tried to relax his hand so as not to jerk the controls, but he couldn't stop his thoughts from wandering to that blank text message again and again. He had no regrets about leaving the 118; changing jobs had been the right decision at the time. But that dark voice inside him whispered that he should never have left, because these people were with Evan now, they had all the information they weren't sharing with him because he wasn't a part of them... That was irrational, after all, he would probably never have met Buck if he had stayed. He would never have met Evan. Evan, who had been hurt out there, probably in some reckless act; who may have been in pain, scared, but who wasn't alone.

Tommy, however, was alone, still high above the city, and as he got closer to the ground and the vehicles and people got bigger, he appeared to shrink. Would Buck even need him? What if everything wasn't so bad, and after all, his friends were with him… and Tommy, the onlooker, would get weird looks because he hadn't just called, hadn't just answered a message, but had rushed to the hospital with this panic in his eyes.

They had not yet given a name to what was between them. Tommy had been Buck's date for a wedding that had taken place unplanned in a hospital; and as they stood there, everyone had seen there was something, but what exactly? They hadn't suddenly turned up together wherever they went, hadn't picked each other up from work or introduced each other as "this is my boyfriend" at random meetings with friends. It was almost as if they had both navigated around this first, invisible cliff in their relationship.

So what if Buck thought it would be odd for him to show up at the hospital? After nothing but a few dates, far too few kisses and even fewer nights that Tommy remembered when the day was long and Evan was across town? Tommy wasn't part of the 118, and maybe not a real part of Buck.

He landed the aircraft mechanically, did the paperwork, answered questions and couldn’t have told how he got into his car. He didn't recall the trip to the hospital either, but he did remember putting on a confident, relaxed face in the elevator mirror.

They were all there, and his heart sank as cold fear crept up and down his spine.

Henrietta and Howard, whom they called Chimney for some inexplicable reason and who had somehow grown close to Tommy’s heart. The captain, Bobby, who made a more than just serious face. Ravi, who was no longer a probie, but was still busy getting coffee to distract himself or the others. Eddie, traces of dirt on his face, constantly scratching his arm, which looked suspiciously singed. Buck’s sister, Maddie, which was the most disturbing sight, because if she had managed to get here, things were serious.

She was the first to catch sight of him, turning by chance as the elevator door opened, and then there was an expression flickering across her face that confused him, something he couldn't place. Howard's mouth formed a silent oh, as if surprised to see him, and Hen glanced first at Tommy, then at her phone. I shouldn't have come, Tommy thought, but everyone was here, and he wanted to be here, he wanted nothing more than to know what was going on.

He faltered, but started walking slowly towards them. Maddie suddenly approached him, touched his arm like some delicate flower and said, "Oh dear, I'm sorry, I should have called you."

Tommy's false smile of confidence crumbled.

"I assumed you were on call, you didn't answer," Hen said, who had somehow also appeared next to him, "I didn't want to worry you, so I kept it short."

Well, now you've got me worried, Tommy intended to say, because he recognized very well that she was using her first responder voice, the tone reserved for patients and relatives. Now he noticed that they were all surrounding him; it was frightening, but there was nothing but genuine concern on their faces.

"Buck already asked for you," Bobby said, and Tommy finally found his voice again.

"What's going on anyway?" he asked.

All of a sudden, the tension was released. He received encouraging pats on the back, was pushed to a seat, and Hen sat down with him and laid out in concise words a story he had heard many times before.

Tommy had known firefighters who kissed a St. Florian badge before a job, yet it rarely helped – things just went wrong sometimes. Someone stumbled over the hose, jammed the ladder or grabbed the axe at the wrong end. And sometimes a fire could not be contained, with a flame so bright you could no longer see, a roaring so deafening you could no longer hear. Then you were at the mercy of danger, and those were the missions that no one would forget. The ones where no lives could be saved, there were only casualties. It was bad, and it was reflected in every single face around him.

"But he's conscious?" Tommy asked, tuning out the list of injuries he had just heard, concentrating only on Bobby's words. Buck had asked for him.

Bobby and Hen exchanged a look, and Bobby said, "I'll ask the doctor if you can see him."

I'm not a relative, Tommy thought to say, but he could see in the other’s eyes that it didn’t matter. They were family, even if not by blood, and an unwritten law allowed emergency services to be with their wounded in times of need. And all of this screamed that he was a relative after all, at least in spirit. Maybe because he had been part of the 118 before, but maybe mainly because he belonged to Buck.

If that was true. If Buck wanted that, too.

But it seemed that everyone else accepted this, just as they included him in their care and concern. It was almost pleasant if he hadn't been so tense; so full of adrenaline, as if he was about to turn a corner of a building already burning brightly.

And then, again without knowing exactly how he had put one foot in front of the other, he stood in Buck's room. All of a sudden, the strain actually disappeared, as is often the case when reality has overtaken your worst expectations and you can finally focus on the truth. The truth was that Buck looked very young and very vulnerable amidst all the equipment and tubes and bandages, but the truth was also that he was alive; and as bad as everything was, he was going to get better.

Tommy pulled up a chair, sat down and grabbed Buck's hand without thinking. Did it matter if Buck actually wanted him? Perhaps a very selfish thought, because right now Tommy seemed to need this touch much more than Buck, who was asleep. It was a misjudgment, because those beautiful blue eyes opened, and even though his gaze wasn't completely focused, it was directed at Tommy.

"Evan," Tommy said softly, the name flowing from his lips as easily as the weight that was taken from his mind in that moment.

"I was wondering when my boyfriend was gonna show up," Buck mumbled sleepily, but with that inimitable grin that neither a few broken bones nor a bunch of painkillers could seem to take away from him.

Tommy's heart stumbled, but he smiled.

"It's not like I could interrupt a perfectly good job to console you for your lousy one."

"Console me now, think I need it."

"Call me your boyfriend again, and I might," Tommy said, while his mind kept repeating the truth: Evan wanted him.

"I've already bragged to all the nurses about my handsome boyfriend."

Buck’s voice got softer, his words choppier, but Tommy held his hand long after he fell asleep.

He had no intention of letting go of it anytime soon.

#writing #fanfiction #my fics #9-1-1 #9-1-1 on abc #9-1-1 fanfiction #BuckTommy #Bucktommy fanfic #Evan Buckley #Tommy Kinard #firepilot #Tevan #Buck/Tommy #Tommy/Buck #Buck x Tommy

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onewithblankets · 2 years ago

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pro tips for administering your own t shots

aight so i’ve been doing the whole self injection thing for nine/ten-ish months now, and as someone who’s always been, and still is, a little squeamish around needles, here are some things that help:

when you wipe down the injection site (I do my thighs, intramuscular injection) with an alcohol wipe, wait a little bit for the skin to dry before sticking the needle in. i’ve found this helps reduce the sting a bit.

listen to music. it helps make the whole process a little less nerve-wracking when you’re humming along to a song you like as you prep your syringe.

along the same lines as the last point, I like to use certain beats of a song as a ‘countdown’ almost, to hype myself up for the injection itself. instead of going “three-two-one” and then sticking the needle in, i’ll go “alright, i’ll put on cotard’s solution and stick it in when he starts screaming.” definitely makes the anticipation of the needle itself more bearable.

the anticipation is always worse than the actual injection. don’t let your own brain psyche you out of taking your t for fear of pain. i came into intramuscular injections thinking it’d be awful pain all the time, but half the time it’s barely more than a slight sting and usually doesn’t feel like anything after I put the bandaid on. i think i was more sore in the first couple weeks than i ever am now, though, so i may have just gotten used to it.

don’t inject too quickly, once you have the needle in your flesh. testosterone is pretty thick, so it’ll be a little slower coming out, and trying to push it too hard too fast will just make it uncomfortable or a little painful.

do all the prepwork and keep everything together in front of you before you even uncap the first needle. make sure you have all the alcohol wipes, needles, vial, bandaids, and sharps box right next to you. you don’t want to pull your needle out of your thigh and then realize you don’t have a bandaid to put on the bleeding hole. that stuff gets everywhere.

alternate your injection sites. don’t do the exact same spot every single week (or however frequently you do your injections) or it will build up tougher tissue and make it harder for you to do injections. i just switch between left and right thighs every week.

once your t is in the syringe, keep your fingers/palms FAR AWAY from the plunger until the needle is inside you. you do not want to know how many times i accidentally squeezed some t out of my syringe because i was moving things around and absentmindedly squeezed on the plunger just a little too hard

check out Howard Brown! very good high quality videos on how to do subcutaneous and intramuscular injections + how to draw medicine out of the vial in the first place. highly recommend.

that’s all i can really think of atm. might update this later if i think of more things/figure something new and cool out for myself, though. hope it’s at least a little helpful for some of you funny internet people.

#trans #transgender #transmasc #trans man #testosterone #tw needles #tw injections #trans masc #t shot #hrt #transmasculine #ftm #trans ftm

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lillian-gallows · 29 days ago

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Kinktober Day 31: A/B/O with Cooper Howard/The Ghoul

Pairing: Alpha!Cooper Howard/The Ghoul X Omega!Fem!Reader Word Count: 4119 Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics (and everything that entails), P in V, Mean!Cooper to Soft!Cooper, Mention of Cannon typical violence, Fingering (F receiving), Doggy style, Pet names.

Kinktober 2024 Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

Traveling with Cooper isn’t what one would call easy or simple.

The man has a metric shit-ton of enemies, half of which have very valid reasons to hate him.

In the roughly five months you two have traveled together, a partnership born of convenience and a little bit of necessity, though he’d never admit to needing you, you have been shot at, and actually shot once, stabbed, blown up, and irradiated once when he forgot that walking through a radstorm wasn’t something humans can safely do.

Yet somehow you find yourself not hating him, especially when he actually seems to feel bad for all those instances, only half of which were actually his fault.

At first, he just offered lame apologies, but after the first month he started taking it upon himself to patch you up, his strong scent filling your nose and making your skin prickle.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t drawn to him, and not just for all the ‘nature’ reasons. He wasn’t hard on the eyes, and when he wasn’t being an asshole, he wasn’t so bad, funny even.

Oh yea, that’s the other part.

He’s an Alpha.

And you an Omega.

Not that he knows that bit about you, which is by design as you take great strides to keep your secondary gender hidden, not just from him but from everyone.

Being an Omega in a semi-safe town is dangerous enough, but being an Omega that travels a lot is practically a death sentence.

You suppose that’s why your family of Alpha’s and Beta’s kicked you out when you presented as a teen. It’s a miracle that nothing has happened since then.

Cooper however is under the impression that you’re just a jumpy Beta.

Every time you two get to a town, you split off to go on the hunt for suppressants. Post-war ones work best, but pre-war ones were just as good in a pinch.

This was one such day.

You had run out a week ago, and seeing as you’ve been on them pretty much 24/7 for your entire adult life it means you can already feel the heat of impending doom on the back of your neck.

Cooper walked ahead of you a couple paces, not for any reason other than him being taller and not caring if you fall behind, you’ll catch up eventually.

The rickety metal gates of the town, “Saintstown” the sign on top of it reads, open as you approach and Cooper doesn’t hesitate to walk in, the guards eyeing the pair of you warily.

Once inside the Ghoul turned and threw a small pouch at you. “Get us more food while you go chem hunting or whatever it is you do…” He grumbled, not looking at you, but rather as his gloved hand as he adjusted the material lazily.

After the first two times he watched you get fidgety before getting to a town to disappear and come back cool as a radcumber, he started to assume you were just a functional junkie, which wasn’t necessarily wrong.

He wasn’t one to judge, he was worse than you could ever be.

The man was a walking pharmacy with all the shit in his system on the average day.

“Uh, right.” You managed as you nearly fumbled the pouch, the rattle of caps inside. “Any preferences?”

He lifted the space where a brow would be if he had them as if to say, “What do you think?”

Right, he doesn’t give a shit. Ass-jerky, case and point.

Nodding, you turned and walked away in search of the market, thankfully there were signs posted pretty much everywhere.

Finding the local doctor wasn’t hard, he had a small booth and a locked chest with a big red cross painted on it.

“I need meds.” You said as you approached.

“Gonna have to be a lot more specific, girly.” He answered as he used a filthy rag to clean a scalpel.

Leaning in you lowered your voice. “I need suppressants. As many as you can spare.”

His eyes finally flicked over to you, looking you up and down carefully. He was older, probably in his 50s, and seemed the caring type if a bit bored. “When was the last time you rode out a heat?” He asked as he stood and came closer so you wouldn’t have to strain to hear each other.

You gnawed at your lip and looked away like a child that knows she’s about to be scolded. “A few years.” You answered and he sighed.

“You need to take a break; these things are going to hurt you.” He warned but turned to the chest anyway.

“I know. But it’s not really an option right now.” Your answer was frustrated but more at the situation rather than his warning. You were well aware of the dangers.

The lid of the chem chest creaked as it opened and he reached in, moving a couple things around before pulling out a small stack of metal tins and coming back to you.

“How long will you be in town?” He asked, looking at you over his cracked glasses.

You sighed. “I think you can understand why I’m not about to answer that question.” You said with a lifted brow.

He nodded and held out the stack of tins. “Twenty caps per tin, 50 pills per tin.”

Your heart dropped. That would set you up for months, but you only had enough caps for one tin. The temptation to use the caps Cooper gave you was strong, but that was a bad idea.

That money was for food, and he would be able to tell if there were too few caps for too little food.

“I can only afford one.” You said as you pulled your own cap bag out.

The doctor nodded and set the extras aside as he waited for you to count out his pay.

The trade off was made and you shoved the tin into your duster pocket until you could pack it safely into your backpack.

“If you come across more caps, these’ll still be here.” He said with a sympathetic look before turning away to return the meds to the chest.

“Thanks.” You said before going on your way.

Getting the food was easy, there were several vendors with preserved food and packaged goods for sale, and with some scrap left from your travels you were able to barter for a good deal on the provisions.

Finding Cooper again wasn’t hard, he stood out.

A tall, imposing, mean looking Ghoul is a bit hard to miss in a town of humans that skittered around like they expected him to lash out at any moment.

They weren’t wrong but still.

He was lounging at a table outside what looked like the local eatery, a beer in one hand and his hat hung in front of his eyes.

As you approached you were nearly knocked on your ass by a kid running into you.

Shoving the kid back from you carefully, so as not to knock him down, you looked down at his filthy face. “Watch it, kid.” You warned sternly, he should be happy it was you and not Cooper he ran into.

“Sorry!” Then he was gone.

“Get what we came for?” Cooper asked as he appeared in front of you.

“Yeah. Hope you like Pork and Beans. It was the cheapest thing I could find.” You answered as you tossed him the cap pouch.

He caught it without looking, cocky bastard, and nodded. “Good. Let’s get outta here.” Then he was turning back to the gates and making long strides, not bothering to make sure you were following.

“‘Let’s stay the night, kid’” You muttered, mimicking his voice. “‘Nah, Coop, let’s get back on the road. We got shit to do.’” You said in your own voice. “‘If you’re sure’. ‘I’m sure.’”

“You gonna keep talking to yourself like a batshit or are you comin?” He called over his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah…” You grumbled as you sped up your gait.

He walked until long after dark, and the town was far behind you, barely a speck on the horizon behind you.

When you finally stopped for the night, you felt feverish and clammy, assumably from all the time spent in the blistering wasteland sun.

The old Red Rocket station he chose for the night was thankfully mostly intact, even had glass still in the windowsills, so barricading the doors was an easy enough task that took barely twenty minutes, and by the time you were done, Cooper had a fire made to stave off the chill of the night.

Exhaustion hit you hard as soon as you settled across the fire from him, and sleep wasn’t going to be fought this time, so you laid down against your pack and let yourself fall asleep, knowing Cooper would be taking first watch either way.

He never lets you take first watch.

Who knows how many hours later, you woke to the feeling of your skin burning and for a moment you feared you’d rolled into the fire, till you felt that telltale twisting in your belly.

Fuck.

With sweating hands, you reached into your duster to the pocket you had tucked it into and found said pocket completely empty.

Flicking your duster open you looked down into it with wide eyes, breaths picking up as you confirmed that it was indeed empty, but before you started to really panic you reached into the opposite pocket and only found your cap bag and a few loose bullets.

Had you already put it in your pack and forgotten?

Reaching for your pack you started digging, trying not to look too freaked out, knowing Cooper would still be awake sitting across from you, but that went out the window as you found only your normal supplies in the bag.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…” You whimpered, heat rising on your neck, sweat beading on your forehead.

“Lose your new stash?” Coopers voice was like a rock through glass, sounding teasing and maybe a little smug.

“Shut up.” You snapped as you looked around at the ground where you’d been laying, maybe you dropped it while you slept.

He hummed at your response. “Desperation ain’t a good look on you, Sweetheart.” He said, tilting his head as he watched you search.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t care about looking good for you.” You snapped, too busy freaking out.

When could you have lost it?

Then it hit you. The kid.

“That little shit!” You hissed, kicking your backpack in anger.

Even if you could convince him to go back to the town, you didn’t have enough caps for more, and even the doctor wasn’t going to be nice enough to give you a discount.

And you were pretty sure you didn’t have that kind of time anyway, not with the way you felt like you were on fire.

Cooper sighed in annoyance. “Christ, if I’d known this was what you were like without your fix, I never woulda let you come with me.” He grumbled.

“Yeah, that’s not the only reason.” You said without thinking, but your words snapped you into a different panic as soon as you heard them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, sitting up from his previously lounged position.

“Nothing.” You said quickly, looking away from him, trying to act like you were still looking for your lost property.

Behind you, you heard him get up. “What is that supposed to mean?” His voice was slowly getting closer, a step with each word, and you felt your hair stand on end, both because his scent was so strong in your nose right now, and because his voice was like smooth pebbles in your ears.

Danger, but every part of you was drawn to it.

Your breaths were fast as you turned to look at him. He was only a couple of inches away from you.

And judging by the look on his face, he didn’t need you to answer anymore.

He could smell you now.

“You tellin me you’re a fucking Omega?” He growled and you whimpered.

You’re not sure if it was in fear or arousal.

Words lodged in your throat as you looked up at him.

And before you could force them from your lips, he had you by the throat and pressed against the wall.

“Were you ever going to say anything about it? Or were you planning on just going into fucking heat during a firefight?” He asked through gritted teeth.

Your brain felt like it was burning, and all you could think about was how his hand felt on your neck, and how he smelled, and how close he was to you.

“I’m sorry…” You whimpered, tears welling in your eyes and falling when his grip tightened, and your eyes squeezed shut. “I had it under control…”

His lips twitched down as he watched you cower before him, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Yeah, till you went and got robbed.” He hissed.

He looked like he was trying not to breathe too much.

“You’re going into fucking heat right now, aren’t you?” He asked, sounding like he couldn’t decide if he was concerned or mad about it, which was a strange thing to hear in his voice.

You nodded as best you could with his hold on your neck.

At that he let go like you’d burned him, and he let out another growl, this one much deeper in his chest, as he started to pace. “Fuck!” Then he was facing you again. “How long has it been?”

“Years…” You answered, still leaning against the wall, feeling flushed and weak already. Your heats have never started this strong before.

That seemed to piss him off even more, but now the reason was much clearer, he was worried. “Do you have a goddamn death wish?”

“It wasn’t safe.” You reasoned, but it was as weak as your legs felt.

“Neither is not having a heat in years.” He started pacing again, muttering to himself. “Can’t cross the wastes like this…No one for miles…Shit…”

He didn’t need to say it, you both already knew.

He was going to have to help you through it if you wanted to guarantee survival.

And he didn’t look like he was against it so much as hating the circumstances, which was more than a little jarring.

“Coop…” You started but he held up a finger.

“Have you ever had help through a heat before?” He sounded gentler now, still stern but much calmer.

Shaking your head couldn’t look at him. “No.”

“You ever been with an Alpha at all?”

“Once, but he wouldn’t knot me. Some Brotherhood guy I encountered.”

At your words he nodded.

The look on his face spoke volumes. He was mentally preparing to help you, and it made you feel horrifically guilty.

“You don’t have to.” You said quietly. “I can lock myself in the office and stay there till it’s over. You can stay out here or leave. But you don’t have to help me.” You said and he looked at you like he was offended.

“I’m not going to let you suffer alone, and not when it could kill you.” He stalked closer to you as he spoke.

He looked like a completely different man, and you wondered if you were seeing whoever he’d been before he was a Ghoul peeking through.

“Now.” He started. “Sit your ass down and drink some water. You’re going to need it.”

That was the last thing he said before going back over to sit where he’d been before.

Doing the same, you took up your canteen and took a couple long swigs from it, feeling fatigue edging back in.

“I’m gonna try to sleep more.” You said as you laid back down, getting only a hum of acknowledgement in return.

Sleep found you fast, but it was shallow, and your body still felt far too hot.

At one point you woke up to the feeling of being moved and found Cooper taking your duster off.

Managing a grumble of annoyance at being woken he chuckled. “Down girl, just making sure you don’t get heat stroke.” Then you were back out again.

When you woke again for good it felt like you were laying in a pot of boiling water, sweat soaked your clothes, which were heavy and itched at your tingling skin, your eyes were fuzzy and watery, and you could feel a distinct slickness between your legs.

“Cooper?” You rasped, partially fearing he’d changed his mind and abandoned you.

“Right here, Darlin…” He said then you felt the rim of your canteen at your lips. “Nice and slow now.”

The water felt like ice with how hot your mouth and lips were, but it was so nice. “Hurts…” You managed as you tried to tug at your shirt, then your pants, feet kicking at your boots feebly.

“I know, let me.” He said, then his hands were on you, his actual hands, not his gloves.

They felt cool against your skin as he pulled your boots from your feet, then your pants, and finally he helped you sit up and tugged your shirt over your head, leaving you only in your soaked underwear and equally drenched bra, which he helped you out of too when you tried to tug the straps down your arms without success.

“Fuck…Wouldja look at that…” He said as he looked at you, eyes scanning over your body like you were a feast waiting just for him.

You were sure you looked like a mess, and with him so close your glossy eyes could make him out in the haze.

His pupils almost consumed his eyes, his breathing was fast, and his chest was expanding so much with each breath that it made his shirt go a little taut, the sight had you pressing your thighs together, though with all the slick that had gathered there was little friction to be found.

His eyes tracked the movement, and it was like a switch being flipped, his own shirt was pulled free from his pants, which were quickly undone but neither were removed, with made you whine but he shushed you. “You don’t wanna see what’s under all this, Sweetheart…” He whispered before leaning in.

You thought he would go in for a kiss, but instead they met your neck, trailing along your jaw with shocking tenderness, little kisses and nips and licks that made you shiver.

Your hands gripped his shirt collar, pulling him closer, forcing him to reposition between your thighs, allowing you to grind up against him.

“Coop…” You whined as you trailed one hand down his chest till you reached his opened pants, then past the hem till you found what you were looking for.

He was hard, which wasn’t shocking, but his responding shiver sent a bolt through you.

Suddenly you felt stone cold sober. You were about to fuck Cooper.

The man who was to blame for a lot of the misfortune you’d experienced over the last five months.

But he was also the source of a not insignificant amount of fortune.

As quickly as your mind cleared it fogged back over, and you were right back to tugging him closer, now with your legs wrapped over his hips.

Your hand, still wrapped around his thick cock, moved up and down, gathering the pre-cum that was collecting at the tip to spread it down the length.

He let out a quiet groan as you worked him, dipping down to his base to give the raised space where his knot would form a light massage.

At that his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled your hand away. “You do that, and this’ll be over before I can be any use.” He chided lightly, smirking down at you.

You let out a needy sound and he sat up, moving to flip you but earning an annoyed sound instead as you tried to resist, some primal part of your brain wanting to see him. “This’ll be easier if I’m behind you, Darlin.” He said, using your weakened state and superior strength to carefully turn you over.

In the clear part of your brain, you knew he was right, but the whinny Omega part of your brain you wanted desperately to see his face, to kiss him.

Okay, maybe that last bit was a shared desire, but that was beside the point.

Behind you, Cooper moved around for a moment before you felt him help you sit up a little, slipping your wadded up duster under your head. Your arms wrapped around it immediately like a pillow and you settled on it.

Then cool hands were pulling your panties down your legs, the slick on your thighs had stated to cool uncomfortably and you whined at the sensation, but that whine morphed into a moan as two thick fingers pressed into your cunt.

The ache abated instantly, and your body pressed back into the touch without your input, practically riding his fingers as he curled them, hitting that sweet spot that had your already spinning head turning into a cyclone.

The orgasm snuck up on you entirely.

Your whole body went taut for a moment before descending into shakes as you cried and moaned, it was so good but nowhere near enough.

“Cooper…” You drew out his name, both praise and plead.

Then his chest was pressed to your back, his shirt felt scratchy, and you tried to pull away from the sensation, but then it was gone.

No, not gone, fully unbuttoned so it wasn’t in the way. “I’m right here...” He whispered into your flushed ear, once more sounding like smooth pebbles but now lacking the anger from before.

The head of his cock prodded where you wanted him most, and he didn’t make you wait as he pressed into you, filling you to the brim in one slow thrust.

The base where his knot sat half inflated pressed against your pussy, but he stopped there, letting you get used to the feeling of being so full.

There was an ache of a different kind now, the kind that teetered on the bleeding edge of pleasure, and you tried to press back into it, but his rough hand on your hip kept you still.

“Stay still, let me do all the work.” He ordered before he pulled back only to push back in hard and fast.

The moan it punched out of you was absolutely filthy, and it served to urge him on.

Setting a punishing rhythm, Cooper made no effort to hide that this felt as wonderful for him as it did for you, his voice was rough and raspy as he groaned and growled, his lips pressing to your bare shoulders.

For a moment you wondered if he’d sink his teeth in and claim you, but he never did, instead he pressed his teeth to the spot to make the Omega part of your brain keen.

Each thrust was like a spark to gasolene, igniting every part of your body, and unlike before you could feel the orgasm swelling in your belly.

You tried to vocalize it, warn him it was coming, but with the way his speed increased it seemed he was well aware and didn’t need to be told, especially when it seemed he was right there with you.

In a swift moment he pressed all the way in, causing his knot to press past the barrier of your pussy and lock him to you as you both came screaming.

His name was an incoherent babble as it fell from your lips.

Your name was a low groan as it fell from his.

Heat filled your belly in spurts and your body felt like it finally got exactly what it needed to calm down, the overwhelming fever ebbing and the shaking of your limbs easing.

As you both panted, Cooper shifted you both onto your sides, careful not to tug at the place where you were bound as he went.

Your bundled duster became a shared pillow.

Words didn’t feel needed right then. Even though he hadn’t claimed you, something felt like things were more permanent between you now, like you didn’t need to worry about waking up to him having absconded in the night.

Sleep once more edged at your brain but you tried to resist it, still basking in the afterglow, but when a yawn escaped, he wrapped his arm around you. “Get some sleep, Darlin…”

So, you did.

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader

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