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peachpitfics · 11 months ago

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Endgame

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Six years after you were married off to your Father's friend, you enter a period of mourning. As soon as it is societally acceptable, Benedict Bridgerton is in your foyer with a bouquet of flowers, amending a mistake he made all those years ago.

Length: 3.8k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Death, mentions of sex work, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), orgasm.

a/n: This is part iii to Wildest Dreams & Loml, requested by anon here! This is the final part!

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Your father stood acrost from you, tears in his eyes, which seemed genuine, though they did leave you confused. He was more devastated by your elderly husband’s death than you were – they had been friends a very many years, even with an age gap between them. It was six years since you were married to Lord Roger Howard, six of the most gruelling years of your life, pretending to care remotely for such a wretched man.

“I apologise for this display” Father wiped his tears from his eyes.

“Fret not, he was your friend after all” You replied nonchalantly, your father never caring enough to pay attention to your words, let alone the tone of your voice. He nodded sadly, blowing his nose in his handkerchief and stuffing it back into the waistcoat pocket.

“Your mother is thrilled at the prospect of you coming home” He asserted.

The shock of his audacity displayed in full force upon your face, “This is my home, I will not be returning to your house in Mayfair. I have an estate to care for until its heir comes of age” You shot back at him, far surer and more confident in your own voice than you had been when he bullied you into a match you did not want.

His weepy eyes filled with exasperation, you were not sure anyone had ever spoken back to him in such a manner, it sure looked as though they hadn’t. He stuttered over jumbled consonants, words unforming as they bowled out of his mouth. Never in your young life had you seen your father so beside himself, so baffled.

“Is there something you wish to say?” You asked brashly.

Stern eyebrows grew rigid over his unpredictable eye line, “How disrespectful! I do not recall raising a child with such an attitude! You will do as your father tells you, and your father demands you return to Mayfair” He almost shouted, the corrosive tone of his voice scared you as a child, even just a few years ago; but he had set you on a journey down Dante’s nine rings of hell. No longer afraid of small men feigning omnipotence in comparison to you, your father was no better nor worse than the husband you had just lost.

Your harsh statuette figure remained still and unblinking, unimpressed by his temper tantrum. Sweat formed on his brow line, rage simmering just below the surface. He was a volcano, ready to erupt in exaggerated self-importance. “It is obvious to me that perhaps you are confused. I was married to Lord Howard; I am Dowager Lady Howard. I do not belong to you, nor am I required to hear this nonsense any longer. I have land, and staff to account for. I will be remaining here. Would you like me to escort you out?” You asked calmly, your heart thumping in your chest, prepared for his next outrageous onslaught.

Father shuffled on the spot, puffed-up and fragile, dancing between continuing this argument, or storming out of the room. With a defeated, heavy exhale, he turned swiftly on the ball of his foot and stomped down the stairs. Staff peered around corners, having heard the yelling, worried for your safety.

Making your way out to the landing, subtly triumphant smile on your face, you watched as your father barged past someone standing in the foyer. You could not believe your eyes, unsure now of whether this was a dream or not. Benedict Bridgerton stood tall in the foyer, a big bunch of flowers in his arms, side eying your father as he passed. He looked just like you remembered, just like you imagined him every day since you last saw him. His eyebrows high, his crowning glory, that cheeky smile adorned on his face. There were small changes, delicious smile lines around his mouth and across his forehead. He looked neat, and very well dressed – you thought perhaps he finally had taken some advice from Anthony. The door slammed violently, and Benedict jumped slightly, pursing his lips together in a look of amusement.

“Mr Bridgerton, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” You hummed in soft interrogation.

“I have come to offer my condolences” Benedict tried to wipe the smile from his face.

“Alas, it has been six whole months since my husband passed away. Would you not consider these condolences to be quite late?” You retorted audaciously.

“One… might consider my visit late, yes. However, I do believe I am right on time. I would like to point out that it is but seven hours into a societally acceptable visit for a single man to call on a widow” He feigned checking his pocket watch, nearly dropping the bouquet on the floor, beaming at you as you started descending the stairs. Rushing down the stairs with enthusiasm, you threw yourself into his arms, flowers crushed between your bodies as your kiss landed. There was that sense of delirium you had missed so dearly. Your stomach dropped excitedly, your heart skipped a beat, your smile uncontainable as he pulled you into him tighter and tighter.

“Worried I would not come?” He asked between kisses, his eyes joyously lit.

“Not one bit” You groaned as his teeth took your lip, sucking it into his mouth, “Come upstairs”.

Benedict took your hand in his, leading you to the only place he knew well in this house, your bedroom. It was strange feeling this way after so long, so much glee in such a solemn house. You had not a care in the world at this moment, everything was finally right as it should have been.

Shutting the door forcefully, Benedict grasped at your arms and pulled you toward the bed, shifting behind you to undress you. Not a second later, Benedict gripped two sections of material and reefed them apart, tearing your dress from your body, his clamorous grunt igniting something within you. The fabric fell to the ground around you in a pool, embarrassment telling you to turn to Benedict, but his forceful hands stilled you where you were. Bending you forward, you rested your elbows onto the bed, the sound of his breeches unbuttoning behind you made your mouth water, wonderment tensing your mind.

Kneeling behind you, Benedict pressed his finger to your pussy, sliding it in as slowly as possible, coaxing soft moans from your lips. You so greatly wanted to spin around, eager to see what he was up to.

“God you are so wet and ready for me” Benedict commended, slipping that same finger between his lips, sucking the taste of you off it, moaning in unbridled thirst for you. Benedict’s hands snapped to your hips grasping at generous handfuls, reefing you back into him, running the tip of his cock along you.

He plunged into you without a moments notice, sinking to extremity unexpectedly. Gasping in wretched recognition as your body adjusted, his velvet skin sliding in and out of you, images flashed through your mind of all the times you had done this before. His large hands slid into the pocket between your belly and your hips, thumbs goading you back into him, savouring every thrust back into you. Benedict laced into your hair, firmly pulling you back to meet him, the starving kiss in his arsenal his best yet. That is what it had felt like, these last two years in particular – like surviving in a baron desert, aridity only quenched by a singular person, and that person being unattainable.

Benedict’s hardness sunk into you again and again, particularly rigid on this occasion, you did not recall him filling you quite this much, but every moment was felt like a spiritual experience. His thrusts became vigorous, and he had that look in his eye that you knew all too well, his efforts quickly moving toward fruition. His pelvis slammed into yours with the most gloriously barbaric force, his moans and grunts animating, pleasure absolutely carved throughout his body and face. The eagerness of his movements made you squeal out as he reached deeper places, you hips bounced back encouraging his release inside of you. Benedict’s hands constricted in place; his body unyielding as waves of intensity rolled through him.

Desperately trying to inhale deeper breaths, Benedict rolled onto the bed next to you, stretching out his arms as if he had a stitch in his chest. You giggled at him, lying down too.

“Not as young as you once were?” You chortled.

Benedict flashed you a look of sunny offense, “If I… could breathe… right now, you’d be paying… for that comment…” Benedict chuckled through his panting. You placed your hand on his chest, feeling his heart thump against your hand, your eyes went wide with awe.

After catching his breath, you laid together in the bed for the rest of the day, slipping in and out of each other and conversation. Benedict was enjoying exploring your body again, as it had been two years and another child later.

“I cannot believe we are finally here” Benedict chuffed, his head resting on your navel, staring up at the ceiling.

“Six years later, my darling. To be fair, we did think we would be apart longer” You remarked.

Benedict paused, fingers circling your forearm wrapped over him, “Y/n… There are rumours circulating the Ton…” He uttered kindly, approaching with gentility.

“I suppose you should know what happened to Roger,” You sighed, more embarrassed for yourself than for the old codfish, “I received news six months previous, that Roger had passed at an establishment… during intercourse with a working woman” You pursed your lips together, trying not to laugh. This was the first time you had explained the situation out loud, to anyone at all. The hilarity was not lost on you, but it felt wrong for the widow to relish the death of her husband outwardly, no matter the kind of man he was.

Benedict was silent for a few more moments, his eyes squinting in reserve, white flashes of teeth peeking through his lips, trying his hardest not to burst into laughter. “At least, he died doing what he loved?” Benedict knew he could hold up the façade no longer, resigning to his impish personality, eliciting a perpetual and free laugh from you. You ruffled his hair merrily, giving playful shoves for saying something so outrageous.

“Perhaps so! It is difficult to explain to the children, not that he had much interest in them anyway. I am hoping they will adjust quickly; they are quite young still” You gave Benedict a gentle smile. You knew he had been waiting to bring up the children, only having seen them a handful of times over the last 5 years.

“When can I see them?” Benedict asked keenly.

“Their nanny took them for a walk in the gardens when I was informed my father was on the grounds… He is not particularly fond of them either” You shrugged, “They will surely be returning soon” You reached out to stroke Benedict’s face, his excitement uncontainable.

Benedict continued to talk about the children, taking guesses at their heights and how they walked. He asked about their favourite foods and favourite colours, he wanted to know everything. More than anything, he had wanted to be there to see them grow and change. He had spent their lives memorising details in letters, their descriptions and little personalities, so desperate to know them. Benedict was recently thrilled to learn that Benjamin had lost his very first tooth at just five years old. He was also filled with pride when you wrote of Beatrice climbing down the stairs for the first time, all be herself – she was three now and while Benedict felt like he had missed so much, he knew how much more there was to come, that he would get to be a part of.

“My apologies, I am just overjoyed to finally be here” Benedict’s eyes watered lightly.

“Do not apologise, they will be excited too, you know they love you” You smiled, wiping away his singular tear. You leant down to place a kiss on his forehead, which he intercepted, stealing yours lips away with his own, warm and full.

Benedict rolled onto his front, lifting your thigh over him and snuggling himself between your legs. His nose rested in your tangle of pubic hair, nudging gently at your slit. Without meaning to, you laid back in anticipatory relaxation, Benedict’s arms wrapping around your thighs.

“You are unreasonably delicious my love” Benedict moaned from between your thighs.

His fingers danced around your outer flesh, tickling and pleasing strokes slowly replaced by his tongue, wet and pleasantly heated. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your lung’s feeling collapse was just moments away. It had been so long, and you were well and truly voracious for him, you had thought about this every single day.

Writhing under his ministrations, Benedict gently lapped at your clitoris, hardly touching it at times. You whimpered in hopeless desperation as he teased and circled exactly where you wanted him to press. There was no doubt Benedict was a connoisseur at this fine art and you were thankful for it. His hands slid up under your behind, lifting you up and into his face, you gave a slight squeal at his strength. The smile in his eyes melted your core, watching the lower half of his face flex and move, buried in your pussy. With every flick of his tongue, every suck of his lips, you could not stop yourself from grinding back onto his face.

Your face strained, trying to conceal the loudest moans these walls would have heard, Benedict’s ravenous tongue lapping senselessly, your knees shaking either side of him. Every moan from Ben vibrated through you, your hand flew violently to the back of his head, demanding more and more of him. Sucking your clit between his lips insistently, his teeth grazing your sensitive nub, Benedict allowed you to orgasm. Your hips bucked against his face, the hot friction of his stubbled face a godly addition to your unleashing.

Remaining still, Benedict’s soft eyes peered up at you, taking in every moment of your completion, committing it all to memory. You could tell just by the look in his eyes that you were a transcendent idol, sent here only for him. His tongue dallied, sensually slipping between your lips a last few times before he released your thighs.

“God, I love it when you do that!” You almost yelled in exotic delight.

“You taste marvellous, truly otherworldly. I could spend the rest of my life tending to you like that” Benedict smiled widely, subtly licking around his mouth to take in the rest of you.

You remained on the flat of your back, drunk on your adoration of him, “I wish you would” You laughed, half joking. It occurred to the both of you at separate times, that there was no longer a need to rush, nor savour these moments. There was nothing to keep you apart any longer, no one to hide from.

Benedict suggested bathing before dinner, so you loosely dressed, calling for the housekeeper to fetch the ladies’ maids to sort some baths. Once the both of you were dressed and ready for dinner, you descended the stairs, you arm linked over his, his gentlemanly stature reinstated upon leaving the bedroom.

The children sat on the rug in the dining room, surrounded by the petals of the flowers Benedict had arrived with this morning. Benjamin looked up, playful excitement lighting his face as he noticed the two of you.

“Mama!” He exclaimed, running into your legs, wrapping his small arms around them.

“Good evening my boy” You hummed, bending down to swoop him up into your arms. Benjamin remembered Benedict from visits previously, but he had not been around in some time. He outstretched his tiny hand, offering a handshake to his father. His sweet little teeth biting into his bottom lip, the centre one missing.

“Are you going to be staying for tea?” He asked curiously, the way children do.

“Yes, my small friend, I am,” Benedict took his hand and shook it properly, “My name is Ben, I do not know if you remember me”.

“My name is Ben as well” Benjamin gasped in innocent surprise. Without thinking, you passed your five-year-old son over to his father as they continued to talk, Benedict instinctually taking him on his hip, just like he had Gregory and Hyacinth not all that long ago. You travelled across the room to Beatrice, who gathered handfuls of pink rose petals and threw them into the air above her head, clapping as they rained down upon her. You scooped your smallest child into your chest, meeting Benedict and Benjamin at the table, placing her in her little chair. Her dark curls framing her face in sweet disposition, she waved happily to the strange man at the table. As the staff served dinner, Benedict took his place at the head of the table, with encouragement from you. You could see joy filling him right to the brim, happiness pouring out of him without a hint of regret. This was what you had both worked for. The housekeeper stopped by you on her way back to the kitchen, gently pinching your cheeks just like a mother would, she had not seen you smile like this in such a long, long time.

The family spent one week together at the estate before Benedict thought it was time to travel to Mayfair, to tell him family of this news. He was not sure how they would handle him marrying a widow, nowhere on his list of objectives was there a point to explain the children and why they looked like him. Benedict had slotted into their lives perfectly and without incident, the children already slipping and calling him father at times. His heart nearly beat right out of his chest with pride.

Arriving at the Bridgerton house, Benedict carried Bea on his hip from the carriage, entering to his family waiting in the entrance hall eagerly awaiting whatever the news in his letters could be.

The first thing Benedict noticed before he had even introduced his family, was his mothers all knowing smile, and the happiness reflected in her eyes.

“Family, this is Lady Y/n Howard, and we are to be married” Benedict announced loudly, a slight echoing ringing through the entrance hall. Anthony and Collins eyes bounced between Benedict and each other, confusion ruling their faces. Everyone else littered them with congratulatory hugs and kisses.

“And who are these darlings?” Violet came forward, kissing Benedict and reaching out to rub Beatrice’s small hands on his chest.

“This is Beatrice, and this young man is Benjamin” Benedict introduced his children to his mother, watching her crouch down to take Benjamins outstretched hand for a handshake.

“How gorgeous! What a fine gentleman” Violet’s smile was sunlight, her demeanour so utterly welcoming. Beatrice leaned out of Benedict’s arms, shuffling herself across to Violet’s chest, snuggling into her grandmother. The both of you knew then that Violet had caught on as she rocked gently from side to side, Beatrice fitting perfectly in her arms as all the Bridgerton babes had before.

“Please, come to the sitting room, I will fetch the tea” Hyacinth directed everybody up the stairs to the second floor. As you and Benedict were about to follow behind the children and the other Bridgerton siblings, Colin and Anthony sequestered your arms away to an adjacent room.

Anthony closed the double doors to the dining room, and benedict slid his hand into yours in solidarity. Colin circled the both of you like a shark in open water, his normally cheery face overrun with suspicion. Anthony frowned pensively in front of you, rubbing his face, well and truly confused.

“This is all happening rather fast, do you not think?” Anthony asked sceptically.

Benedict licked his lips in preparation, “Brother, you know I was in love with y/n all those years ago. We have simply reconnected since the very sad death of her late husband” Benedict portrayed the sympathetic friend, the shoulder to cry on in a time of need.

“I see, and your engagement taking in place exactly six months after the death of Lord Howard is simply a coincidence?” Anthony questioned, logical suspicion stirring up his role as caretaker of the family.

“Yes. Benedict was very considerate, giving me my time to grieve my husband before coming to visit and offer his condolences. It can be quite confronting when one is bombarded with flowers and well wishes all but a day after a loss” You lamented, doing your best to act your part, the sullen widow.

Anthony nodded, having experienced such a similar event after the death of their father Edmund, “I understand, I am glad that you have reconnected with each other after all these years… I do just have one more question, and I will only ask once. I do not wish to offend you, however if I found out either of you had anything to do with the death of Lord Howard, I –”

“Lord Howard died in the bed of a prostitute” You blurted out, interrupting Anthony quite rudely. He was inferring the two of you had murdered Lord Howard for his estate and potentially as a crime of passion. That was not the case, your true secret seemed to be thoroughly unnoticed by the eldest brother.

Anthony and Colin stood side by side, their mouths gaping at the same time, blinking in uneasy embarrassment. There had been several rumours circulating the Ton regarding the death of Lord Howard, this was not the one they had expected to be true. Anthony snapped back to reality, shutting his mouth and nodding uncomfortably. He gestured toward the door, Benedict pulling you out of the room, heading for the stairs.

“It is strange… Those kids look a lot like Ben” Colin muttered to Anthony as they followed on behind you, not a far distance away. Benedict turned and met Anthony’s gaze in his peripheral as the whole thing dawned on the eldest Bridgerton boy. Dropping your hand, Benedict darted up the stairs, headed for the safety of his mother.

“Benedict, get back here!?” Anthony shouted, the vein in his forehead violently protruding, he stormed up the stairs after Ben.

Colin slipped into the space Benedict left, holding out his arm for you to take, “Come on, I’ll show you to the sitting room. They are going to be a while. At least you will not have to endure two dead husbands… Anthony’s going to kill him before he gets to the altar” Colin chuckled, your arm clinging to his as he escorted you up the stairs.

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moonlitdesertdreams · 1 year ago

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Take the damn shot

A/N: Ohhhhh I've spiraled. Going from Mandalorian fics to writing about a radioactive cowboy with no nose within a couple weeks of each other is totally healthy :) Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence. Summary: A single quiet day in the saloon is all you wanted. But somehow, your Ghoul partner is pulling his gun and you're covered in another person's blood. Honestly, it's just typical.

Word Count: 1.7k+

(GIF Credit to @djo)

The Ghoul hates to admit it, but he needs you.

In the same sick and twisted, goddamned way he needs the Vials to stay sane, he needs you next to him. When poison air grows thick and the scorching sun sinks beyond a brutalized horizon, you’re always at his side. Day in and day out, you stick around. Full of piss and vinegar, ready to take on the fucked up world you’re all stuck in.

And Cooper’s not one for generosity anymore, but he gives you credit a lot of the time. He knows he can be nasty, and you don’t mind one bit. In spite of his callousness and general disregard for safety, you put on a chipper attitude and tug him (sometimes physically) along to the next town. Outwardly innocent but filled with a mutual hatred for Vault-Tec and what its influence had done to the world and yourself, you’d quickly become his diamond in the rough.

And you shine particularly bright in the shack of a building the Wasteland called a saloon. You’ve made careful friends with a couple of gray-haired biddies- presumably the owners- in the back of the room, and chat happily with them. Cooper sits off to the side behind you, a bottle of the local brew dangling between his fingers. He’s content for the first time in a while; ass in a creaky rocking chair and boots kicked up on an old milk crate. The brim of his hat is pulled down to hide the majority of his face, but eyes wander lazily from you to the front door.

Cooper didn’t think many things were nice any longer, but listening to you prattle on with the women warmed something in his dead heart.

“You’re awfully pretty for this place.” The older of the two women, sporting a single eye and an impressively neat beehive style, compliments you. “Gotta be out of the Vaults with that skin.”

The Ghoul tenses, knowing the mention of your 200-year prison would strike a nerve.

“Yeah. I’m from before the war, actually.” You say it plainly and chase it down with a swig of liquor. “Fuckin’ Vault-Tec.”

The Ghoul’s familiar with your story, from you finding out about the plan to drop homemade bombs on American citizens to your confrontation with the executive group in Vault 31. Little did you know, you’d be sneaking in with no chance for escape. Cooper tightens his fist at the thought of Hank MacLean shoving you carelessly into a cryopod and slamming the button to lock you in. You’d relayed the story to him with watery eyes, and that’s something he absolutely loathed. He had enough personal beef with Hank that your trauma added to his ever-growing list of things to be absolutely pissed-the-fuck-off about.

Finch and Sparrow, as they were so comically named, clutch their pearls in sadness as you tell your story. They fawn over you, and Cooper makes out a few ‘fuck them Vaulties’ and a ‘well as much as it sucks, we’re glad you made it this far’. You sniff just barely and wipe your eyes.

“Thanks, ladies. It means a lot.��

The conversation turns back pleasant for the most part, and you’re enthralled as the women pull you into the town gossip. Cooper begrudgingly gets up to piss, comfy as he was, but stops at your side to hand off his bag first. You take it with a nod, more interested in the rumor mill than his whereabouts for the moment. He swaggers to the back door of the saloon, where wind whips sand against his jeans and patters the leather of his boots with tiny rocks.

Voices drift out the door from inside as Cooper yanks his zipper back up.

“Is it true what they say ‘bout Vaulties?” It’s a man’s voice, gruff and demanding in comparison to the happy lilt of yours. “Heard your story and always been… curious.”

“If you listened, you would know I ain’t no Vaultie.” Your reply is instant, but the edge in your voice has Cooper stepping a little faster down the short hallway. He reemerges to the sight of a suspiciously dressed man leaning against the wood beam beside your table, a little too close for comfort.

“Sure you are, darlin’. I can tell by lookin’ at’chya.” The man’s face is half-covered by a bandanna, and a pair of sand goggles are pushed up on his forehead, “Like they say.. everything’s… softer.”

There’s suddenly a hand landing on your shoulder, and Cooper sees red. His gun is pulled before he knows it, leveling at the man’s forehead.

“Hands off the girl.” He growls.

On closer inspection the man is probably close to the age you appear. Above the bandanna, weatherbeaten skin turns into frizzy ginger hair. He’s wearing a typical duster type coat, and the goggles are leaving red marks in his forehead. Cooper decides he’s taken shits more attractive than him.

Probably smarter, too.

“Fuck off, Ghoul.” Is the reply Cooper receives, sending a flash of white-hot anger through his already irradiated body. “I wasn't talkin’ to you.”

It was all too common, being brushed off. At this point in his life, it actually brings a smirk to his face. Your mouth is even tipping up at the edges, having had many interactions with the can of worms this guy was prying open.

“Listen man, I think you should let it go.” You warn and try to stand from the broken chair you had been carefully perching on. The red-head doesn’t relent, and pushes you back down into the chair. It wobbles dangerously as Cooper stomps closer. The movement prompts your captor to pull his own gun. It’s a crudely made pipe pistol, but able to shoot flying projectiles into your brains nonetheless.

“Get your goddamn hands off her before I decorate that wall with your fuckin’ skull.” Cooper yanks the hammer back on his pistol, hesitating at your close proximity.

The redhead pulls his bandanna down and Cooper watches you lean away as you recognize the scent and characteristics of a Fiend. His teeth are hanging loosely at crooked angles, and the pock marks around his mouth from scratching his skin open drip blood and serous fluid. His gun is trained on Cooper, but he freezes when he sees the Ghoul shift forward.

“Ah ah ah. How’d you like me to put a bullet in her instead?” The Fiend tugs you to your feet and nuzzles at your hair as he presses the barrel of his gun to your ribs. “I’d love a taste myself.”

The suffocating need to keep you safe and at his side fills Cooper’s corroded veins as you scowl at the Fiend whose nose is pressed dangerously close to your cheek with rotten teeth bared. Rage ignites from the anger he’s already feeling.

BANG.

Cooper’s watching when the red spray of blood washes over half the saloon, but still doesn’t quite comprehend what’s happened. His gun didn’t fire, but the scent of ignited powder fills the air. You fall to the floor along with your captor, and the aforementioned rage boils over. He holsters his gun and scrambles to pull you away in the chaos.

Thankfully, a quick once-over shows you to have no injuries, but the same can’t be said for your attacker. A foot away the Fiend lies still, about five pounds lighter from the gaping hole in his chest. Gore from his wound is splattered thick across your face and neck. Your eyes are pinched closed to avoid anything unsightly entering them, and you lash out blindly when Cooper grasps your arms.

“Let me go, you rotten bastard!” The Ghoul catches your right hand before it can hook into his jaw, “I’ll kill you myself.”

“Quit squealin’ sunshine, it’s me.” Cooper growls

While he’s getting a handle on your flailing limbs, a shadow covers the both of you. Cooper glances up at the one-eyed old woman who’s sawed-off shotgun is still smoking in her left hand.

“I know your brain is shrunken and all, but next time take the shot sooner.” She bites. “And feel free to clean up my damn bar.”

Cooper is torn between staring at the older woman- Sparrow, he thinks- and trying to contain your squirming. He’s not too fragile to admit he really doesn’t want to take a punch from you right now, so he wipes the back of his hand across your eyes and tugs you to sit up beside him.

“Cooper?”

He huffs a laugh at your incredulous tone and flicks away the remnants of blood littering your skin “The one and only. Open your eyes.”

They flicker open slowly, and you pout at the blood congealing on your clothes. “I just got these pants.”

Cooper sets a hand on your thigh and squeezes gently. “I’ll buy you a new pair. S’Long as you promise not to get Fiend all over those ones too.”

You thrust an elbow into his ribs at the jab and climb to your feet. Cooper follows with a dramatic groan.

“Old man.” You tease over your shoulder, observing the carnage from Sparrow’s well-aimed shot. A kick to the corpses’ ribs follows, sending a splatter of blood across Cooper’s pants. You shoot him an insincerely apologetic look. “She’s right, you know.”

The Ghoul follows your gaze to Sparrow, who’s hollering at any remaining patrons that dare tread too close to the mess, damning them for tracking blood around the bar.

“‘Bout what?”

You lean into his space, the scent of blood thick in the air. “Take the damn shot sooner.”

Cooper grabs the back of your neck and yanks you forward in a hard kiss. The blood transfers easily onto his lips, and he licks it off while pulling away. “Fucker deserved more than one shot.”

Possessiveness floods his mind and he squeezes the soft flesh beneath his fingers.

“I’da strung him up by his balls if I got my hands on him.” He mutters, tracing another finger through the blood and popping it into his mouth. “After grabbin’ onto you like that.”

You lean into his chest and let a smile curl the corners of your lips up. “All for little ol’ me?”

The Ghoul pinches your bloody cheek. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

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thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

#fallout imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x f!reader #The Ghoul x Reader #the Ghoul x you #cooper howard x oc #fallout tv series #lucy maclean #walton goggins #fallout fiends #possessive!cooper howard #fallout #fallout 4 #fallout new vegas #ghouls deserve love too #the ghoul

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egypt-museum · 3 months ago

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Discovery of the tomb of Thutmose II

This week, archaeologists unveiled a momentous discovery—the long-lost tomb of Thutmose II, believed to be the final undiscovered royal burial site of Egypt’s 18th Dynasty. This marks the first tomb of a pharaoh uncovered since Howard Carter’s legendary discovery of Tutankhamun’s resting place in 1922.

The tomb, belonging to Thutmose II, the fourth pharaoh of the Eighteenth Dynasty and husband of the famed female ruler Hatshepsut, was unearthed by a British-Egyptian team led by Dr. Piers Litherland of Galashiels, Scotland.

The grandeur of the burial site was immediately evident, with a vast staircase and an imposing descending corridor signalling the tomb’s royal significance. “And part of the ceiling was still intact – a blue-painted ceiling with yellow stars on it. And blue-painted ceilings with yellow stars are only found in king’s tombs,“

- Dr Piers Litherland, an honorary research associate of the McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research at Cambridge University and the field director of the exploration, told BBC's Newshour.

Accessing the burial chamber proved challenging. The team crawled through a narrow, 10-metre passageway, squeezing through an opening scarcely 40 square centimetres wide before reaching the inner chamber. Inside, they encountered a striking blue ceiling adorned with scenes from the Amduat, an ancient funerary text reserved exclusively for kings—confirmation that they had indeed entered the resting place of a pharaoh.

Definitive proof of Thutmose II’s burial came in the form of alabaster jar fragments inscribed with his name and that of Hatshepsut, marking the first objects ever linked to his interment. However, Dr. Litherland’s team theorizes that the tomb may have been flooded approximately six years after the burial, possibly prompting the relocation of its contents. The researchers believe they have identified a likely site for this secondary tomb, which may still contain untouched treasures.

#ancient egypt #archaeology

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finniestoncrane · 1 year ago

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Big Iron

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 650 lmao no one is allowed to yell at me for the pun in the title (get it... cos blood tastes like iron??? PHEW) ANYWAY cooper howard eats people and enjoys the taste of blood so uh... eating someone out when they're on their period? winner winner delicious fuckin dinner for him, plus a healthy dose of romantic cannibalism🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: mentions of cannibalism, period sex, oral sex, drinking/tasting blood, blood play

Your fingers scratched at the thin mattress below you, catching on a spring that burst through the frayed fabric. Something to claw on to, to cling to, as your orgasm rolled over you, pulling back like the waves before a tsunami.

Sensing the imminent climax, Cooper cruelly pulled his head back from you, catching your eye as you looked down to see why he had stopped. With a wink, he dropped his tongue out past his chapped lips and ran it around his mouth. Wagging the long, pink muscle out, you could see the blood collected on it, smears of it still on his face.

"Why... why'd you stop?"

Panting. Pathetic. You were desperate for him to continue, to place his face flat against you, clit hooded by the cavity where his nose had been, tongue hungrily lapping at you. Even as you asked him, you could hear the whine in your voice. And his answer only made you tense up further.

"Because, darlin'... I like to savour my meals."

Why you had expected anything less was a mystery. Every month, right on schedule, your period arrived and Cooper went hysterical. Frenzied, like an animal in heat, as though he could smell the changes in your body. Blood lust driving him. He would claw at you any minute you were alone, tearing your clothes off to taste you, like he did now.

His fingers teased along your red, swollen lips, venturing into your cunt as you clenched around him, grateful for more of his touch. But it was over in a moment, as he withdrew his digits and held them out in front of him, admiring the way your blood, thick, dark and red, dripped slowly down them.

Placing them in his mouth, he sucked your juices off with a soft moan, eyelids closed to offer some sensory deprivation. All he wanted to experience was your taste. The metallic tang that coated his tastebuds, the smell of violence that filled the air.

Lowering his body, his knees scraping along the ground as he slid backwards through the dust on the ground, he rested his cheek against your leg before he began placing kisses on it. They trailed from the front, around to your inner thigh. Delicate, gentle, loving almost, before they turned to sharp bites. His yellowed teeth sinking into you with grunts and groans, either from arousal or from the sheer amount of concentration it took him to remember not to hurt you. Not too much anyway.

Between each nibble, each puncture of the top layer of skin with his surprisingly sharp teeth, he mumbled to you, low, rasping words that made you shudder, heating your cheeks and flushing your body.

“Why… I could just devour you whole… Make you a meal I’d never forget…”

Your lips curled into a smile at the thought. Cooper’s possessive nature only ever served to make you lust after him more. It consumed you, and you’d be content for him to consume you.

“Eat of your flesh… drink of your blood, that old chestnut…”

There was a soft scuffing sound which you identified as Cooper’s hips, grinding into the ground, desperate for the friction against his stiff cock as his tongue flitted back up your lips and pressed into your aching cunt one more. And still, he took breaks to speak to you between breathy, lustful moans.

“You taste… you taste as sweet as I remember honey being… you got the bite of a sour cherry… tender like the steaks they offered me at contract meetings… juicy… dripping… fresh kill…”

Your hand fell to the back of his head, keeping him buried between your legs, not quite strong enough to prevent him from stopping for just a few more words.

“I’m gonna eat you alive, darlin’…”

#fallout #fallout amazon #x reader #finnie writes #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout fic #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard smut #cooper howard imagine #fallout tv #fallout tv series #walton goggins #cooper howard x fem!reader

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linuxgamenews · 3 months ago

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The Roads Untraveled: Exploring the New Content in Scarlet Hollow

The Roads Untraveled game update coming to Scarlet Hollow is a relaunch on Linux, Steam Deck, Mac, and Windows PC. All thanks to the creative minds at Black Tabby Games. Which you can find on Steam and Humble Store. Scarlet Hollow, the award-winning gothic horror story from Black Tabby (the minds behind Slay the Princess), is back with a massive update — The Roads Untraveled. This update isn’t just some minor tweak; it’s a full-on overhaul with tons of new content for Linux and Steam Deck. Due to hit Steam on Monday, March 3. Just in time for Visual Novel Fest. If you’ve already explored the eerie town of Scarlet Hollow, you’ll notice some big changes. And if you’re stepping in for the first time—welcome, but don’t get too comfortable. The title’s married dev duo has gone all in, expanding the script by over 70,000 words across four chapters, and upgrading the UI. Due to make the whole The Roads Untraveled experience smoother and creepier than ever. Plus, you’ll get even more of Abby Howard’s hauntingly beautiful art to pull you deeper into the mystery. You’re back in North Carolina, for your Aunt Pearlanne Scarlet’s funeral. She was the owner of the town’s old coal mine, but her passing isn’t the only thing stirring up trouble. Your cousin Tabitha isn’t eager to see you, and something else—something unnatural—is lurking in the shadows. The town has always had secrets, but this time, the mysteries feel heavier, the air thicker with something that shouldn’t be here.

Scarlet Hollow — before The Roads Untraveled update

youtube

It’s not just grief that brought you here. There’s a pull—something beyond logic—that’s dragging you deeper into this place, forcing you onto a path you might not be able to turn back from. Every choice you make changes the story, twisting it in ways you won’t see coming. And, it’s also not just Aunt Pearlanne’s life on the line. You can shape your experience in wild ways—maybe you can talk to animals, maybe you’re just that hot (seriously, it’s a trait). The choices you make unlock unique routes through the game’s branching paths, and yes, romance is an option—even if your potential partner happens to be a cryptid hunter or, you know, a decaying specter that won’t leave you alone. Seven chapters are planned, and each one pulls you deeper into this cursed town’s unraveling fate. The Roads Untraveled update lands on Steam starting March 3 with the launch of Visual Novel Fest. The best part? The first episode, completely reworked, will be free as a demo. You can play it and carry your progress straight into the full game. Which si also on Humble Store. Both priced at $24.99 USD / £19.99 / 21,99€. Coming to Steam Deck, Linux, Mac, and Windows PC. So, are you ready to return to Scarlet Hollow? Just be careful — you might not leave the same person you were when you arrived.

#scarlet hollow #update #the roads untraveled #linux #gaming news #black tabby games #ubuntu #steam deck #mac #windows #pc #renpy #Youtube

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zolass · 2 months ago

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Detectives Attraction Ch. 02 Top Male Reader x Male Yandere Harem

Decided to finish chapter 2 as well, because I'm not sure how much energy I'll have tomorrow. I hope that it doesn't feel rushed.

content warnings: a gun and breaking in. 1.2k words

Hours passed since M/n sat down and looked over the case files again, his once styled H/c hair was now disheveled by the many times he had run his hand through it in annoyance and frustration. He pinched the bridge of his nose as tiredness settled in, but he can’t possibly stop now.

E/c eyes glanced at the empty glass, but he couldn’t drink more of it and keep going– the risk of overlooking important details was not worth it. At least not for M/n if he wanted to catch these people.

He stood up and stalked into the kitchen, deciding on something that would keep his stomach satisfied for a while. Just as M/n got everything he needed, he was interrupted by a ringtone from his phone, which he grabbed from his back pocket. The screen was lit up with a call of an unknown number, which made M/N frown, but he still picked it up, the only sound coming through was the typing of a keyboard.

The person was typing fast, M/n noticed. He leaned against the kitchen counter, waiting if the other person would speak first, and give him a hint of who they were. But nothing, the typing continued as if the call wasn’t started by the other person. “Hello?” M/n spoke up, and suddenly the typing slowed down, yet didn’t stop. “Mr. Howard– it’s nice to finally be talking to you myself– usually Adrian–” the person on the other end stopped themselves, a giggle followed– it was someone M/n didn’t know, “Oops– slip of a tongue~ anyways usually I get informed if someone snoops around–” there was a short pause, “I have to say it’s really admirable how– organized you are with the files but it’s not an option to share it– so I’ll take what’s rightfully not yours to share,” suddenly a gut wrenching feeling churned inside of M/n’s stomach.

With the phone at his ears, he took precise steps towards his study, grabbing the gun that hung snug in its holster by his pants. Standing out of view of the inside of his office, he tried to listen to any anomalies in his study. The typing that never ceased penetrated his ear, just as M/n heard a faint “Now,” did he push the half open door, further open with his arms raised and loaded gun in a tight grip, ready to shoot.

Yet all he saw was that his desk was a sudden mess with some papers drenched in liquor, but his eyes fell on the shadow that made its way out of his, now open, window. “Fuck–” M/N cursed as he dashed to the window, but as he leaned out of it the figure was already at the ground running into the next best alley.

“Thanks for the cooperation– hope to talk to you again, so don’t make it easy or boring~” the voice from the other side chirped, before the call was cut off. Hot boiling anger surged through M/N’s veins, his grip tightened around the gun before he grabbed the phone from his pocket in which he shoved it before going in his study. The screen was black, making him grind his teeth trying not to let the anger take over.

Shoving the phone back into his back pocket, M/n turned around and walked over to the mahogany desk, and as his eyes fell on it the anger seemed to take new heights. Papers were missing, not only from his newest case but also one of the drawers was open in which he kept the case files of one specific group, a mafia that had their fingers dipped into a lot of crimes.

M/n doesn’t have the chance to link any of the crimes together and back to the mafia, but he– hell everyone knew that there were multiple corrupted groups out there fighting for power, to rule. But with the corruption even in his own area of work, it was basically impossible with everyone paid to shut up– or made to never speak.

But exactly those case files were gone.

Gritting his teeth, the anger boiled over. With a swift motion he grabbed the empty glass bottle, and in the same heartbeat the sound of shattering glass was heard as M/N threw the bottle against the wall. His hands were balled into fists as he stared at the wall furious, before his attention landed back on the table in hopes of finding anything that was still useful for him and the case.

Finding absolutely nothing useful, as the other papers were drenched in alcohol where basic information. Closing his eyes, M/n took a few deep breaths, until he remembered that one specific name was said on call– Adrian.

The next morning, M/n parked his car in front of the large high end tower, which belonged to none other than Adrian Sinclair. Getting out, closing the door rather harshly– which he might regret later– M/n stepped foot into the building, making his way quickly to the front desk, there sat a woman who typed away at the keyboard, “Is Mr. Sinclair in the building today?” he asked.

With the focus of the woman now on him, “He is, but you need an appointment– hey!” M/n only listened so far, before he stalked over to the elevators, getting in one that was about to close, as he heard hasty footsteps behind him. “Stop!” the woman screeched, but before she reached the elevator it closed.

Turning around, M/n only raised an eyebrow as he saw the two people occupying the elevator beside him, eyeing him.

Adrian looked up as the doors to his office were pushed open with force, he was about to say something about how he could simply fire whoever thought they could just burst into his office, but the words got stuck in his throat as the one person– man walked in with whom he didn't mind.

“M/n what an honor to see you so soon–” Adrian spoke, but as he saw the look on the man’s face he shut up, but the excitement swirled in his stomach. M/n slammed his hands on the desk, that stood between them leaning forward, e/c eyes stared into the green ones of the lawyer. “Already so desperate to send someone to break into my home, to steal case files?” M/n asked, voice laced with barely contained rage.

Adrian frowned at those words, “What do you mean?” “I mean that you first let some random call me to distract me– while another clown breaks into my office– god don’t act fucking stupid, he literally brought up your name,” his voice was surprisingly held low, as his body trembled with tension.

“I know you have a lot of shit under your shoes– I wouldn’t be surprised if you hired someone to do this–” Adrian suddenly stood up, “Are you okay?” he suddenly asked and for a moment threw the other off. M/N licked his lips, as he let out a scoff, “Oh now you’re worried?” “I didn’t hire anyone– I swear,” there was a tension between them, but not one Adrian would’ve liked.

“Forget it,” with those words turned M/n on his heel and walked back out, while Adrian stood there, quite dumbfounded by what occurred just now, before he gritted his teeth and sat back down, “Seems like I have more to do, today.”

#Detectives Attraction - zolass #zolass writes #male x male #male reader #mlm #gay #x male reader #top male reader #yandere #yandere harem #male yandere

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eupheme · 10 months ago

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So I finally watched Fallout. Really cool. Loved the main characters a lot. Totally going to be normal about it all 🫠 Also, if you're still taking requests, what about #10 "Spread your legs wider" with The Ghoul but in two different contexts? One where he's (begrudgingly) teaching reader how to shoot and another that's spicy.

ooh hi anon, I love this idea! 👀💖 these were such fun scenarios to explore together, I hope you like this! thank you so much for sending it in!

— on target

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 1.8k

Tags: weapon practice, pining, flirting, big dick cooper howard, parters-with-benefits, mutual mast, rough PiV

Two times the Ghoul tells you to spread your legs, and two times that you listen.

"Again."

You frown, a sideways glance from over your shoulder, "But I hit it."

A neat mark pierces clean through in the outlined target. Low and to the left, but still within the boundaries. A win in your book, compared to the mess where you started.

"That'd just slow a fella down, not kill 'em." The Ghoul snaps, "If you were aimin' for a head, you'd have missed. Again."

You sigh, as you peer down the sights. Somewhere along the way, your desire to learn became a desire to prove him wrong.

That you could be - would be - good at this.

Enough time spent watching him - drawing and firing before you can even blink - to know, out of anyone in the Mojave Wasteland, that you wanted it to be him to teach you.

But the Ghoul had been reluctant to show you how to shoot. Seemed content enough to handle things himself, when shit went down. A sneering curl of his lip, when you had asked.

"Shoot your own damn foot off, sweetheart," He scoffed, "Then were'd we be?"

You had pushed. Never begging, you wouldn't stoop to that. Just needling - a reminder of how much use you could be to him if you could truly have his back.

He had laughed. Hadn't needed someone in two-hundred years to do that. Doesn't know why he'd start to worry about someone watching his back now.

But, he relented. A small pistol pressed in your hand, with a spinning chamber and everything.

The next shot you take is closer, but still too low.

With a grunt, he's manhandling you. A hand at your waist, at the small of your back - moving you into position. His knee pressing to yours, a heavy boot nudging your own.

"Spread your legs wider, now." His voice is low in your ear, making you shiver, "Center your gravity."

Your body is slow to respond. Caught up in how close he is, how his touch feels electric - even through the layers.

"You listenin’, vaultie?" The sharp tone snaps you back, as you do as he says. Thighs inching wider, the curve of your ass pressing against his front.

"Good girl." He hums - the syllables drawing out - and it shoots straight through you.

A heat pounding in your cheeks as his hands still rest at your waist. Solid and unyielding, as he always was.

It takes a real effort to raise your arms and aim again. Inhaling a breath, and holding it.

His voice rough, as he rasps in your ear.

"Now, take the shot."

This time when you fire -

Your bullet hits dead center.

“Well, come on.” The Ghoul’s fingers pinch into your skin, “This was your idea now.”

As if he was no more than an innocent bystander. As if he doesn’t need this as much as you do, with the way he shifted into your wandering palm.

Your back arches, where it presses against the bedroll. Bare knees clamp against his waist. A boot lost to the wastes in your urge to rid yourself of clothing - pants and underwear in a twist around one of your shins.

Torn down after all that pent-up pressure finally came bubbling over.

“Spread ‘em wider, sweetheart.” There’s a tap against your thigh, a command in the low rasp of his voice. “Show me.”

Your heart thunders in your chest as you obey. Legs butterflying as they spread, dipping down as you open yourself up for him.

For once - instead of that laser focus on you, with that distrustful nature of his - those eyes dip down.

There’s a shark intake of breath. His fingers flex when he sees you - damp and glistening, as few things are out in the wasteland. The pretty gleam of your arousal as it drips from you.

Almost as if he means to touch. Sink two fingers deep, bury himself in you until you forget everything else.

Instead, they pinch against your hips. Slipping back up to work open that thick belt buckle. The sun glinting off ancient, yellowed resin as his layers loosen. Fingers closing around himself instead, easing the hard length free.

He’s thick, bigger than you thought. Your pulse spiking at the way his fingers, bigger than yours, just make it around. Ruined and red like the rest of him - though it doesn’t stifle the urge to part your lips and stick out your tongue.

The Ghoul’s chin dips down, when those eyes fix on yours again. A breath passes before realize what he wants - your own hand drifting. Your moan soft as the tips of your fingers press down, slowly sliding to your clit.

Teeth clenching down as your circle, aware of the sounds you make. Not just the hitch of your breath, but the loud, slick swirl of your fingers.

A betrayal, showing how much you need this - aching even before that first brush of his hands, guiding you into position.

His attentions transfixes you enough that you almost miss it. How his fist moves in tandem with yours, copying your rhythm.

It has your hips bucking into your touch, fingers rubbing just a little faster. Your lips parting with a harsh breath - torn between watching him get off to you, and wanting to see the look in his eyes doing it.

The decision makes itself - your eyes lifting until they’re dixing on each other, held until he makes a rough sound.

“Never seen you want somethin’ like this before,” He rasps, “You gonna ask nicely for this, too?”

His fingers tighten with the emphasis, squeezing. The tip gleaming with a pearl of precum, before it dribbles down to smear against his swollen tip.

Reminding you how you had needled at him to teach you, until he had barked a “fine, fuckin’ fine already-”. But this time, you can already feel that strung-tight wire inside you.

An innate knowledge that yes, it would be pleasurable to come with the heat of his gaze upon you - but to have his length buried deep, to come around his cock as he fucks you -

It would be incomparable.

“I need you,” You hear yourself beg.

“You need me to what?” His brow lifts, “Seems like you’re doin’ a fine job yourself.”

Your teeth grit, swallowing down your pride. The pace of your fingers just barely slowing - drawing it out, in the hopes he gives you what you need.

“Please,” The syllables draw out as you keen, “I need your cock, need you to fuck me-”

His eyes glitter in the afternoon sun, the cat that caught the canary.

“Where was this before, hm?” The Ghoul rasps, a twitch at the edge of his lips, “Could’ve gotten what you wanted a lot sooner, darlin’.”

Your answer comes out strangled, his hips moving just as your lips part. Fingers wrapped around his base to angle the tip. Nudging himself just inside the tight clench of your pussy - parting you open - before there’s the sharp forward punch of his hips.

It’s immediately too much.

The moan breaks, the air stolen from your lungs. Going from aching and empty to full in a second, all of your muscles going tight.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He breathes - jaw gritting the same way when he had looked at you, on that last day of practice, “Gonna snap it clean off if you don’t relax.”

That hunger etched so clearly across your face, his hands still resting on your hips. Tired of the teasing. The flit of his hands and the shift of his hips into yours. The rock of his thigh against your core, just as you were about to fire.

“Don’t start somethin’ you can’t finish, sweetheart.” It had been rough in your ear, a warning and a challenge.

But if you could handle his gun - you could handle him, too.

With your own little snarl and a tilt of your head, you had kissed him. It feels like a dream, now, even though it was only a few moments ago.

And it’s only been a breath since you’ve been full of him, but each second lengthens. Your sounds bleeding into a whine as he starts to move - hands grasping at your hips, the thrusts starting shallow and turning longer.

“Not my fault.” You huff, that sharp sting easing into a syrupy warmth as he starts to move, “Didn’t tell me you were packing a-, a sarsaparilla bottle down there.”

“Is that right?” Lips wide stretch over stained teeth, “Can’t say I’ve heard that before.”

Your strangled laugh becomes a groan, as your start fingers swirl again. This is how it should be, you think - stuffed to the brim with him, as you bring yourself to the brink.

Eclipsing your quiet fumbling in the dark, the bitten-back hiss of pleasure. No more than a relief of tension and a way to sleep. Now, it’s so much more than that. The pleasure mounting, clicking upward - a geiger counter in the wastes.

Only for your cunt to tighten around him - a new wash of desire crashing over you - when the Ghoul inches his thighs wider. Arcing over you - his eyes narrowing when yours go wide, lips parting with a breathless gasp.

You wonder if he’s had as much practice with this, as he has with that gun of his. This new tilt of his hips sends him against a sensitive spot inside you, the tip nudging against it again and again.

He must, with the way he bares his teeth - the rough chuckle at the “oh fuck” that loosens from your throat.

The sound is like the sharp scrape of steel against flint to your ears. It would be startling if you didn’t know him the way you do.

“D-Don’t stop.” You beg again - the heel of a foot hitching to dig into his back, keeping him close, “Oh, you’re gonna make me come.”

“That’s the idea, sweetheart.” He growls - but for once he listens. That pace staying steady, his own chest heaving as you writhe beneath him.

Hips bucking to meet the sharp slap of his. Your touch too harsh, too needy. Pulling you to the edge with the realization that he wants to feel you come around him.

Just like he wanted to see you hit that target.

It’s that flicker of knowledge that sends you over.

The grin he gives you is near feral. Your head tilting back as the pleasure floods through you, sending your nerves endings alight.

Barely able to hear the soft echo of his words before.

“Good girl.”

thanks so much for reading! I have a few more requests I am working on, can’t wait to share them when I am done! 💖

#I feel you on being Totally Normal about it #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x female reader #cooper howard x y/n #cooper howard smut

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