#ramshackle Howard | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghoulphile · 5 months

Text

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position.

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.”

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout smut #the ghoul x you #cooper howard x you #the ghoul #cooper howard #fallout #fallout fanfic

3K notes · View notes

grandlinedreams · 5 months

Text

|| i regret nothing I need Cooper Howard viscerally both pre and post Ghoulification

|| notes: semi Canon compliant, spoiler-ish for end of s1, semi-shifting pov, Lucy is adorable but baby girl you will be chewed up and spat out pls grow more spine, Dogmeat has never done anything wrong ever, godbless Cooper having a southern accent bc that's my accent, yeah, gonna do a sequel to this and a prequel on Coop and reader's first meeting, ok bye

|| warnings: weapons supplier!reader, couple of allusions to cannibalism, reader is not specifically gendered, NSFW ㅡ fingering/touching

“Where are we going?”

Not for the first time today, or even the last week, Cooper questions why he's letting the Vaultie (“Lucy,” she informs him primly, “my name is Lucy.”) tag along. The dog, at least, is a good, reliable companion. Dogmeat trots dutifully at his side, her tail wagging as he stops to glare at Lucy.

“Supplies, Vaultie,” he tells her, relishes the flicker of annoyance in her eyes. “Need supplies or we'll both be knee deep in shit.” He pauses. “More than we already are.”

She mumbles something he doesn't care to catch as he resumes walking, rolling his eyes as he adjusts his hat. He knows he could stand to be a little more sympathetic with the bombshell she's still dealing with, but he can't bring himself to ㅡ not when his daughter might still be alive out there, somewhere. (And his ex-wife, who he's pointedly trying to not think about too much.)

Lucy is blessedly quiet for a good while, all the way until they get closer to where they're going. Cooper doesn't need that piece of shit vault-tec device on her arm to know where he is, but Lucy says it anyways.

“It's a town,” she mumbles at the cluster of ramshackle buildings, surrounded by the clustering of trees so much like Filly ㅡ but isn't. “Is thisㅡ”

“Yes,” he answers, “now shut it and walk.”

Lucy huffs. “I don't know if you've realized neither of us have means to pay for anything,” she protests, “but the general rule ofㅡ”

“Vaultie.” If looks could kill, she'd be six feet under. He's never had much patience, but she’s already reached the bottom of it and keeps digging. “Shut the fuck up about your goddamn rules. If you haven't noticed, nobody up here gives a damn about playing by what's wrong and what's right.” He gives her a meaningful look. “Now if you don't want me to leave your ass to whatever comes along next, you'll be quiet and let me handle it.”

Lucy's mouth shuts with an audible click, and Cooper turns on his heel to resume walking, Dogmeat at his heels.

Like Filly, the center of buildings bustle with the day to day of so many others, the cacophony of animal sounds along with chatter ㅡ Cooper spares Lucy a brief glance to watch her struggle to keep up and scoffs to himself, shaking his head as he continues.

He knows where he's going, a little shop shoved between two others, narrow but deeper than the other two, because he's been here before. Several times, actually. Which accounts for the familiarity with which he strolls over the threshold and leaves Lucy and Dogmeat to follow.

There's the jingle of what might be a bell over Lucy's head when she follows, blinking at the interior. Neat and tidy, or at least as much as can pass for such things on the surface ㅡ rows of weapons and other assorted things on shelves and stands.

Lucy watches The Ghoul rap his fist on the counter. “I know you're here,” he calls, “you never leave this damn place!”

She expects whoever it is to come scuttling out with the tone of voice he uses and being as accustomed to his rougher attitude, and she listens to the clatter of something further in the shop.

“If that's your greeting nowadays,” comes the answer, “you can fuck off.”

To Lucy’s surprise, The Ghoul husks a laugh instead of offering another threat. Footsteps approach, and Lucy blinks at the person who rounds the corner.

“You,” you accuse, finger almost into his chest, “thought I told you I was done dealing with you if you couldn't work on your manners.”

Lucy stares, and watches as you turn towards her and raise an eyebrow, eyeing her with unrestrained curiosity, then at Dogmeat. “A vaultie and a dog,” you say, then glance back at The Ghoul. “So, taking in strays, huh?”

The Ghoul grimaces. “Guess so.” He clears his throat. “Need supplies again, sweetheart.”

“Figured as much,” you say, arms folding across your chest. Lucy decides she likes you, because you're standing up to him ㅡ and he's letting you. “Take it you have no way of paying, again.”

Lucy wants to tell The Ghoul I told you so, because he can shit on all her little rules all he likes but the surface still deals in keeping the scales balanced. You have to eat too, so it's fair that you're expecting payment in the nonexistent caps they have. The Ghoul, on the other hand, tries a different route.

“Oh come on now sugar,” The Ghoul wheedles, tone almost what could be considered as sweet. Playing at a gentleman for the way he leans against the cobbled together counter, even goes as far as to take his hat off and place it down. “Don't be like that.”

“Don't you sugar me,” you counter with an attitude that honestly startles Lucy for both the lack of genuine bite or answering hostility from The Ghoul. This isn't the first time you've met, she realizes, and is also quietly a little horrified to register that this almost sounds like flirting. “You're a pain in the ass, you know that?”

The Ghoul almost grins. “At least I'm consistent. Besides, you know you miss me when I'm gone.”

You snort, pressing your lips together to hide a smile. Lucy feels a tiny bit uncomfortable with the atmosphere, like she's watching something she shouldn't be privy to.

“Yeah, yeah,” you answer, bustling around to shove several fabric wrapped packs into his chest and giving him a meaningful look. “You owe me.”

It's definitely flirting now, Lucy notes as The Ghoul's face lights up in a way that's still entirely human, tracking your movements with something far softer than anything she's ever seen from him.

The turn towards her and head jerk to her and Dogmeat is as clear as dismissal as she's ever seen, to make herself scarce ㅡ so she does, but not before she catches the peripheral glimpse of the way you let him reach for you, almost melting into him for the way he moves to undoubtedly murmur something.

That something is not the sweet words of a long time lover, but it's probably about as close as you're going to get with things the way they are.

“Anyone causin’ you trouble lately?”

You roll your eyes. “Besides you?” He gives you a look, and you shake your head. “No, and even if there was, you know I can handle myself.” You turn to throw him a teasing look over your shoulder. “Don't tell me you're getting soft on me, old man.”

It's Cooper's turn to snort, even as he moves to follow you. There's a sort of peace to watching you sort through boxes of shell casings and bottles of powder, letting his gaze drift over your body.

When you turn, he doesn't even bother to hide the way he's watching you, and you arch an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he returns. “Can't I admire you?”

You roll your eyes. “I'm too expensive for you, Cooper.” It's a playful taunt, one that incites a little flare of something in his eyes as he approaches, the jingle of his spurs as he comes to loom over you, cages you in against the shelves of “inventory”.

“Really now,” he drawls, leans in, eyes predatory dark. A lifetime ago, you might have been scared. But the wastelands made no qualms about beating fear out of people just as quick as it snuffed out life all together. “Here I was thinkin’ I might get a discount.” He reaches, thumbs at your bottom lip with his gloved digit. “What's the askin’ price, sweetheart?”

This close, he smells like the wastelands and sunbaked leather, with a little bit of blood ㅡ but you don't mind. Never have, not sure you ever will. Not when it comes to him, anyways.

He's a dangerous man. A man with a reputation that's well-earned, spoken in hushed whispers and anything but nice. But you let him slot a leg between yours, lean in, press his lips to your hair. You smell like gunpowder and hot metal, grease stained fingertips and more than a couple bruises and scars for your efforts.

Sometimes Cooper contends with the idea he might need you just as much as he needs that chem that keeps him sane. Admits it here and there, quietly to himself when he wanders in, squashes it down that he makes the trips sometimes just to make sure you're still alive. Not like he'd know if you were, till he sees you. Not sure what he'd do if he someday came up and found you gone. No note, no goodbye ㅡ quick and quiet, the cruelty of the wastelands.

“Didn't answer my question, darlin’.” He mumbles, lips to your cheeks now. Soft skin, kept carefully with rationed doses of radaway and a healthy heap of keeping your cute little self out of business that doesn't involve you. “Come on, I asked you real nicely.”

You hook your fingers in the loops of his belt, pull him closer. He can feel the jump of your heartbeat under his lips, now at your jawline. A soft, shaky inhale. Selfishly, he wants to keep you. Steal you away, greedy to keep you for himself. Hates the idea of whatever scum that rolls in that you have to deal with on your own. You can handle yourself, he knows that.

Doesn't stop that little piece of him that's still truly Cooper Howard from worrying. But he knows better than to think he can protect you, because he can't. So he does what he can.

Your skin is soft under his teeth, forgiving to the nip of them, the blooming blossom of pink that reminds him of strawberries. The noise you make is just as sweet, and he wonders if you'd taste like that, too.

“I'm waiting,” he prompts between little nips, mouth curving against your flesh when you grip at him tighter. There's a lot he could do to you, and not a lot you wouldn't let him. “Don't tell me this big ol’ cat’s got your tongue, little songbird.”

Your lips part, and he expects either a sparky response or a soft plea for what this is tilting towards, partaking of something far softer than anything he's used to nowadays ㅡ but you’ve always had a taste for throwing him for a loop, and you do it now.

“Take me with you.”

That snaps him out of his little hazy, touch-greedy daze, enough that he pulls away to look at you properly. “Repeat that?”

“You heard me.” You tug at the loops of his belt, eyes steely, expression firm. “Take me with you. Tired of this shitty little outpost. Figure it's time to move before I get myself into trouble I can't get out of.”

Cooper laughs. “Think you're runnin’ straight into that fire by askin’ what you're askin’, sweet thing.” A warning and a plea, mixed mish-mash in his words. Part of him wants you to stay here. Concrete, much as it can be, where he knows where you are. Other part says it'd be easier to watch your back if he saw it all the time.

“That's not an answer, Cooper.”

He snorts, softens at the edges again, a little sadder as he reaches to stroke your jawline, leans to bump his forehead to yours ㅡ radiation warm against radaway cold. “Wanna make sure you know what you're asking for, darlin’. I ain't your babysitter. Got my own shit to do.”

“I know.” There's that fire in your voice, the kind he loves and hates at the same time. “Wasn't asking for you to babysit me.”

He swallows roughly. Lets his hands drift up your sides, tug at the tuck of your shirt, underneath to drag sun-worn leather against the soft skin of your abdomen. Relishes the way you shiver, leaning into his touch. “Can't promise nothin’, you know that.”

Your smile promises the same kind of heartbreak his own words do, the kind rooted in the reality that the world doesn't deal in any absolute but death, and sure as shit won't give happy endings. Not anymore. “I know.”

Cooper can't think of what to say to that, at least anything he's ready to, so he kisses you. Your lips are too soft against his, the warmth of your mouth reigniting that greedy, needy, human thing inside him. He pulls, digs his fingers into your soft, pliant skin, and he takes.

Takes what you willingly give him, hand over hand with nothing but that pretty little smile of yours. He muffles your gasp as he wedges his leg a little firmer, coaxes the part of your legs with a rough husk of, “just like that, dollface,” and delights too much in the sound of you moaning for him.

Hushed, quiet enough that there's no reason for Dogmeat or Lucy to come back yet (he doesn't know what they're up to nor does he really fuckin’ care at the moment), he lets himself indulge in the pleasure of your body against his. The sweet little sounds, half-gasped as he mouths at your neck, hitched to something almost like music as his hands wander.

Pauses long enough to bite at the tip of his glove and tug, one then two, the bare, radiation scarred wander of his fingers over your body. It's selfish, the way he covets every little twitch and jump of your muscles, the choked gasp as he guides you into rocking against his leg.

“You're so sweet for me, sugar,” he coos, syrupy as he picks you apart meticulously, piece by piece. Fingers still far too good at what they do when he replaces his leg with the press of them against you, remnants of a past life for how well he gets you to whimper his name. “Like ambrosia.”

His fingers stroke, deceptively gentle, working over your slick, too-hot, achy skin until you’re panting and gripping at him, pleading for a relief only he can give you. And that’s exactly how he wants you, where all you can see and think of is him.

The expression you make when he finally lets you come might truly be the most beautiful thing he’s seen in a very long time. Headier than the Jet, dizzying and making him swear as he jerks his clothed hips against yours, breath sharp in his chest.

“Gonna be the death of me, I swear.” He bites at your neck, digs a little harder, scrapes his canines into your sweet, yielding flesh. He could devour you, take bite after sweet, sweet bite and actually test that theory about the strawberries. Crack the cage of your rib, feast on that beating yolk of heart that thumps so hard in your chest.

“Gonna let me do it, sweet thing?” He rumbles against your ear. “Let me have it all?”

Your eyes flash, lips pretty and swollen as they part to answer ㅡ and the bark of that damn mutt ruins it all. At least it's a warning for you both, because he's stepping back and letting you fix yourself with surprising speed as Lucy and Dogmeat return, an expectant look on the fuckin’ vaultie's face.

“Well? Got what you need?"

Cooper snorts, tracks you instead of answering as you press your hand to his for a second, gone around the corner. Lucy frowns when you return, pistol strapped at your hip and a bandolier slung over your shoulder like his, broad pack strapped to your back. Like you planned for this.

And you did, he notes, but it hadn't been contingent on his agreement. Idly, he notes he never did answer you, not really. But he just hums, then turns towards Lucy, who looks between the two of you, confused.

“Yeah,” he finally answers, “got what I need.”

#ㅡmine.#fallout series #fallout x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader

518 notes · View notes

ghoulfuckersincorporated · 4 months

Note

Had a terribly great thought! The Ghoul and reader traveling together. She's a brat but loyal as a dog to that man. They get into a pretty bad fight and she storms off and he's too proud to follow after her, struggling with coming to terms that he's actually soft for her even though he's mean as hell. She finds him some days later, with her tail tucked between her legs. He's not surprised, comparing her to a female dog often. 👀 still, he's going to make sure she's sorry. Lots of groveling on her part, maybe some face slapping, boot licking, he gets off, she doesn't. Ends with her in his lap. Hair petting and praise for coming back to who she belongs to.

As A Dog

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 7,085

Warnings: smut (18+), DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Jealous!Cooper, canon-typical violence, intimacy issues, angst, insecurity, slightly fucked conceptions of love and loyalty, pet play-ish activity, hard drug use, forced intoxication, shotgunning, slapping, boot licking, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, riding, cannibalistic thoughts, orgasm denial (female), breeding kink, creampie.

Notes: I had several pieces in line in front of this one and then this prompt reached through my screen, sunk its teeth into my brain, and shook me until this came out. It really is a terribly great thought. Tagging heavy, since the themes/Cooper's mentality may be triggering for some. It is what it says on the can, folks.

I dunno what unholy demon you've unleashed on me here, Anon. But bless you for it. Another Coop POV because I have a problem. Thanks for the patience on this one; I've been doing some admin stuff the last few days, including setting up an AO3 that you can find here, where I'll be uploading all the long-form stuff. Enjoy!

Cooper's trigger finger was itchier today than it had been for a long time.

He was fully aware that he'd never be able to stop every man left in the world from talking to his little vaultie companion, but boy, he sure would love to try. On an average day, he struggled to hold his tongue as she drove away her own sun-baked suitors, standing silently aside until called up to defend her, no matter how badly he wanted to reduce whomever was bothering her to nothing.

Today was a worse-than-average day, and the girl wasn't helping anything, herself.

"Are you gonna be ready to go any time soon, princess?" he asked her acerbically as she passed by him for the millionth time, tossing his current cigarette down to the ground.

He'd intended to stop at this shitty little settlement, little more than a dingy bighorner ranch at first glance, for a few minutes at most, just long enough to unload some things and check to see if they had any vials on hand. Here it was, nearly four hours of glad-handing and chit-chatting and unnecessary gun repairs later, and he was still leaning against the same crumbing wall, still angrily smoking. She was pushing it.

"Oh, be patient." she shot back, rolling her eyes as she turned to saunter back to the little ramshackle counter. "I'm waiting for my gun back and I was having a nice chat with the mechanic. Try to be pleasant for five minutes, would you?"

She was so full of shit, he thought as he snuffed the still-glowing smoke butt out beneath the toe of his boot with just a little more force than necessary. Typically, she shied away from male attention at her most demure, refusing to acknowledge most advances, playing innocent, playing dumb. The big doe eyes and soft voice didn't hurt on that front, but usually didn't deter the more steadfast predators.

He preferred the days where she had a little extra spitfire, when she told them clearly and loudly to fuck off, no doubt emboldened by having the rather intimidating ghoul hanging over her shoulder, silently encouraging her as she did it. In the past, she had proven that she wasn't above evoking his capacity for violence as a threat when the desert trash was persistent, and it gave him a thrill he couldn't identify, one that ruminated deep in his gut.

That same gut feeling was burning him now, eating a hole in his patience as he watched her listening attentively to the third scrawny young man who'd approached her as she waited around the repair hutch to yap her ear off. She nodded and smiled politely, even laughed from time to time (the sound of which made him want to shoot he kid between the eyes just for that), but kept a respectful distance. Clearly, she'd finally learned that the sort of over-friendliness that she'd been raised with in the vaults could be read differently up here. The young buck, however, continued to try and dance into her space as he spoke animatedly, and, eventually, she reached out and quickly touched his chest.

The old cowboy was stomping across the sand to her before he was even aware he was moving.

His logical brain could see very clearly what had happened: the boy had advanced into her space for the half-dozenth time and she'd put her palm out to gently rebuke him, distracting him from the rejection with a laugh at whatever he'd said. But that part of his brain was rather quiet after a long afternoon of watching her rather blatantly flirt with the asshole she was having repair her plasma pistol (something that she would typically have him do, since it wouldn't cost her anything, and he almost certainly could do with equal or superior adequacy), and letting every other little piss-ant farmhand in the next mile radius chat her up.

"We're hitting the road in five. Get your shit and let's go." he hissed to her, ignoring the little scowl she shot him as he interrupted her newest conversation with the willowy, greasy mechanic, who was sliding her her pistol back across the knotted wood of the semi-exposed countertop. Flashing him that brilliant smile, the one that he wanted to be only for him, she checked the thing over before tucking it back into the holster she kept on her hip, pushing a stash of caps in a metal tin back his way. The old cowboy watched with inflamed indignation as the fucker opened the box, dug out a massive handful, and tucked them back into her hands, letting his own linger across her skin as he placed them back into her palms.

Frankly, he was impressed he was able to let her drop the things back into her bag before he grabbed her by the arm, none too gently, and wordlessly began to yank her back down the road, back in the direction they'd originally been heading in. He could've shoved the damn things in himself and just dragged her along; it wasn't like he was unfamiliar with where she put them. The long, sleepless nights could be boring, and early on, he'd been curious enough about her to nose through her things once or thrice. That, like this, had been quite illuminating.

"Oh, you're being such a prick today!" she yelled, yanking at his grip in an attempt to free herself. He humored her, dropping her arm and turning to face her, unpleasantly surprised as the last farmhand she'd been chatting with, the one she'd touched, came running up.

"Hey, leave her alone!" he yelled. Or, he would have, if he'd had a chance to finish.

The sound of Cooper's rifle butt cracking into the kid's face was incredibly satisfying, collapsing him into a limp, useless pile on the ground, deep crimson pooling around where he lie face-down in the dirt. The girl didn't scream, probably surprised that he hadn't outright shot him, but her hands did fly to her mouth in a quick moment of silent shock before she kneeled to quickly check his pulse, rolling his ugly mug to face the sun. Blood poured from his obviously broken nose, leaving the old ghoul wiping at his face to cover the smirk it sent twitching across his lips.

"What did you do that for?!" she demanded, frustration clear in her voice.

"Oh, my apologies, sweetheart. Your little boyfriend there was trying to join a party he wasn't invited to." he replied, though she was clearly ignoring him in favor of turning the boy onto his side and examining him.

His little companion let out a huff, casting a look between the body on the ground and the little cluster of buildings they'd just left. After a moment, she grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt the best she could and began to drag him back towards where he'd come from. The ghoul watched her pull him about five feet, red and huffing by the time she made it there, rolling his eyes deeply.

"Leave him. He'll be fine."

"He won't be if no one comes over to collect him soon, and you know it." she snarled, and her tone sent him seething, snatching the kid up over his shoulder like a sack of spuds and stomping ahead of her, depositing him unceremoniously against the ranch's handmade sign before yanking her along with him once again.

"Y'know, if you'd have just gotten in and out like I told you, that wouldn't have happened." he said eventually, dropping her arm once more.

"Oh, fuck you!" she hissed. "I was trying to see if I could talk him down on the price. And sometimes people know useful things, you know!" she yelled, exasperation clear in her tone as she threw her arms up in the air.

She pretended to be ignorant, but clearly knew what he was upset about before he specified. Interesting.

"Oh, I'm sure. Y'know, I'd wondered how long it was gonna take you to start sellin' that little ass of yours. Figured it would be for something nicer than a pistol repair or some bad intel, at least." he sneered. He could feel himself slipping further from rationality.

"What are you talking about? It wasn't even like that!" she insisted, an edge of something more worrisome creeping into her voice.

"Quit playin' dumb, doll. You make it seem too easy." he said, watching her entire face light up bright red in frustration. She was tersely quiet for a minute, the gears in her head clearly turning hard and fast as she worked to contain herself and formulate a response at the same time.

"I'm sick of you getting pissed off and treating me like I'm the stupidest person you've ever met." she spat, eventually, madder than he'd ever seen her. "I'm sorry that I haven't spent enough bitter fucking years walking around the desert and killing things and being an asshole to know everything like you do, Coop. I'm sorry I still have human emotions and desires. My sincerest fucking apologies."

That was it: the argument had officially become about...something else.

Honestly, he'd assumed that she was going to leave him a few days back, when they'd stayed in a rare hotel room waiting for a bad dust storm to settle, the little thing getting just a tad too tipsy on some whiskey he'd given her before trying to kiss him. He'd rebuffed her, though not as gently as he wished he had, and, feeling bold, she'd pushed back with surprising fervor, basically demanding to know why he wouldn't kiss her more, why he wouldn't sleep with her.

True, he felt closer to her than he'd felt to anyone or anything in a long while, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but, as embarrassing as it was, the idea of being expected to perform sexually so suddenly made him feel a seizing sense of panic that he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before.

What he'd wanted to say was "I care about you so much, but I'm not sure I'm ready to take that step." Instead, what had come out was "Why are you buggin' me about this? I said no. Fuck off." followed by him storming out to spend several hours smoking in the decrepit, junk-walled-in parking lot.

When he'd returned, she'd been asleep, her poor face tear-swollen and red. He'd waited for her to rouse and hash it out with him, but she'd slept through the night, and, the next morning, didn't bring it up or seem amenable to discussing it. She hadn't seemed angry, necessarily, perhaps a little sad, but in the few days that had passed since, she had definitely been colder, poutier than usual.

It seemed, to him, that she was punishing him now for not doing what she'd wanted, and it was pissing him off.

It didn't matter that he hadn't fucked her yet, that he didn't feel ready to expose the most vulnerable parts of him, inside and out, so openly. She was his; she belonged to him and she knew it as much as he did. The fact that she was even still traveling with him after all this time, after what happened at the hotel that night, was proof. She proved it every single time she came back from one of her little stomp-offs every time he ticked her off, lacking the wherewithal to ever even move fully out of sight before slinking down to pout awhile, inevitably peeking out from whatever she was hiding behind to see if he was still there. Despite her lack of proper training, she was a loyal little bitch.

The fact that she suddenly didn't want to act accordingly sat entirely wrong in his mind, wriggled under his skin like when his stash ran low.

"All's I'm saying, princess," he growled, throwing out the nickname he knew she loathed once more, "is that you're too fucking friendly for your own good, and you shouldn't be shocked when it gets people hurt."

"Why would you give a shit who I'm friendly to, anyway?" she spat, suddenly pushing her way right into his bubble and sending him baring his teeth.

"I wouldn't. Didn't I made that clear enough the other night?"

He knew that this particular barb would hurt her, but he genuinely didn't expect what she did next.

"Alright, then." she said; her voice was trembling noticeably, as was her lower lip. With that, she snatched her backpack up from the ground, jammed her arms into the straps, turned, and began to walk back towards the way they'd come from. He watched her silently, waiting for her to duck back into the ranch, but she didn't; instead, she kept walking, as long as he could watch her, until she disappeared over the hill that fed into the horizon.

The old man watched her go, dumbfounded as she actually continued to walk instead of stopping as she always did. For a while, he hung around, waiting for her to come huffing back, but she still hadn't by the time the sun had fully sunk out of the sky. Eventually, he resumed moving himself, stopping after about a mile in their original planned direction, settling down for a grating night of looking out over the road at every little noise.

She'd never even looked back. He couldn't shake that thought from his mind as he sat there resting overnight. It was basically the only thought he had for hours, plaguing him as he puffed his inhaler and watched the world around him brighten with the rising sun.

When the next day started in full, he'd resolved to hit the road, to resume his travels as he would be resuming his existence before the girl had come along. Compared to how long he'd been exploring the desert solo, she'd been but a brief blip in his life, and there was no reason to fret so much over where she'd gone or what could happen to her without him around.

For some reason, he only covered about half the ground he would typically cover on a day like this, and he found himself beyond unreasonably frustrated...with himself. Nothing about the conditions was slowing him down; he didn't run into more trouble than usual, and he was fine on supplies, vials, but for some reason he found himself hypervigilant, looking for any excuse to move up high and scan the road with his binoculars.

By the time it was too dark to safely continue, he was seething once again, but at his weakness, at his cowardice. After he chose a tucked away little corner to settle down in for a few hours, he quite literally couldn't dig into his stash fast enough, doing line after line, hit after hit of whatever he had on him, until the horrible pain he felt behind his breastbone melted away into a familiar, soothing numbness.

But his numb mind liked to wander, and soon he found himself thinking about the softness of her voice, her skin, her lips against his that night...

And, quickly, he was back to pain and anger, but an irrational anger fueled by a far-more than reasonable dose of basically every kind of stimulant known to Wasteland man. This pain, too, was chased away with more and more chems, until he was so fucked up that he could barely keep his eyes focused and open.

She truly did plague him now, just as she had all the months she'd traveled with him. She plagued his thoughts at all points in the day, plagued his worries about the future, and even as he attempted to snort and huff himself free of the thought of her, she plagued him, dancing up along beside him in a quiet, stalking creep, watching him daintily from the end of the rotted log he sagged himself on, his back wedged against the large rock cluster behind him. At some point, he'd tugged his gloves off and shucked them somewhere nearby, leaving him feeling quite naked as his hands fretted with themselves absentmindedly. Against his will, he thought about running them through her hair like he'd wanted to for so long, and the unpleasant flip his stomach did made him sigh.

"I'm sorry." came a voice on the breeze, so much like hers. The visions of her were persistent, annoyingly so, the one staring hauntingly at him from the side really starting to unsettle him. He was no stranger to visual and auditory hallucinations when he was this far gone, but she was so solid-looking out of the corner of his eye, watching him so close. Judging him and what a fuck-up he was.

He squeezed his eyes shut hard, willing her away, willing himself to go back a few days and redo this entire thing differently.

"Aren't you...gonna say anything?" came the soft, timid voice once more, this time from beside him. Firmer, realer.

He narrowed his eyes in her ghostly direction, focusing as best as he could on her blurry, swimming visage.

"Huh. Didn't know that was really you."

When had she arrived, exactly? Fuck, he was dangerously gone if she'd been able to sneak up on him like that.

She frowned at that, leaning close and sizing him up with worrying eyes. Gingerly, she placed her palm on the back of his bare hand.

"Jeez, Cooper. How fucked up are you?" she asked, her tone sincere, almost apologetic.

Her glaring worry burned into him as judgment, harsh and stinging, and he struck out in response, yanking his hand away.

"Mind your fuckin' business." he slurred, forcing himself to sit up straight enough to point his full anger in her direction, growing with each passing moment. "Think you're better'n me? Hmm?"

He'd fully expected this to ignite another yelling match between the two of them, but she didn't scream back; instead, she quietly dropped her head, avoiding his eyes as she gazed around where he'd chosen to bed down. Truly, he was quite impressed she'd managed to find him at all, let alone in the dark. Turns out he was rubbing off on her even more than he'd thought. The idea left him bitter.

A big part of the anger he felt, the ugliest, most violent part, was the Jet; he knew this. The stuff had gotten him into more than his share of scuffles through the years, making him even meaner than usual, his sharp tongue exact and piercing. However, beneath the amphetamine fog, there was a nugget of true bitterness, an open wound of insecurity that pained him into lashing out when she tried to come close. He'd lashed out in such a way that night at the hotel, despite how hard he'd tried to hold back his sour words.

There was a fear there that he'd felt before, but never so strongly as when he'd watched her disappear over that hill. If she'd tried to leave over that relatively small argument, when would she try to leave again? He wasn't a pleasant man to be around, even when he actually tried to be, a lot of the time. Hell, he wasn't even pleasant to look at; if he'd been a giant prick in his old life, at the very least, he had been handsome.

Increasingly, since she'd come into his life, he tried to reach deep, deep into himself and pull out whatever remained of the old him, the one who was kind and hopeful and actually knew how to talk to women, but the process was infinitely more difficult and painful than he'd imagined.

She clearly wanted and needed intimacy from him, on more than one front, and the pressure of feeling like he couldn't give her what she needed was increasingly getting to him in a way that embarrassed him more than he could possibly say (not that he'd ever say it out loud). Centuries of time had passed, and yet, here he was, still dealing with the same anxieties and feelings of inadequacy that he had before, just dressed up in a new, uglier face.

When would he finally succeed in pushing her away, in frightening her away from him 'for her own good'? The walls around him had never failed him before, for better or worse.

Things were quiet between them as she fidgeted in her spot, the tension of an inescapable conversation in the air, but the desert's constant score, the hiss of sand across corroded asphalt, the soft rattle of the wind in the rocky hills, played on. His muddled ears played tricks on him, making him hear murmurs and distant gunshots and the crack of his rifle butt into that farmhand's face, but he tuned them out, focusing on her steadying, but increasingly heavy breathing, his eyes unable to leave her mouth..

He let himself drink in the fact that she really was there, sat on her knees in the dirt before him and already begging him for his forgiveness, for his acceptance; corporeal, flesh and blood and her sweet smell and that wet, warm place between her legs. Only in his drug-induced private fantasies had he felt it, but he knew he wanted to bury himself there, as deep as possible, and never let her pull away.

"I really am sorry, Coop." she whispered, those big, round eyes brimming with big, wet tears. It wasn't difficult to see her sincerity, even as he struggled to focus. But that hot coal of bitter anger still smoldered in his gut; not replaced by the lust he felt, but fed by it.

Slowly, his own movements labored under the weight of too many substances, he reached out and ran the thumb of his sullied glove along her smooth, smooth cheek. Smearing the trail of wetness there until he was tracing the outline of those pouty lips, he pushed it into her mouth.

"Prove it."

She let out a pitiful little retch, though whether it was from the taste of the incredibly filthy material, or because he was shoving her tongue back in her throat and gagging her with it, he didn't know. What he did know was that the sound made his cock twitch, which was already more blatant sexual desire than he'd felt in ages.

"How?" she asked, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand as he pulled his own away. The wetness that trailed from his thumb, from her lips, made him feel feverish, and he quickly knotted his hand into the thick, soft hair at the back of her head, yanking her so close that their noses would've been touching, had he still had one. When her wide eyes met his, not so much as a sound escaping her lips at the sensation in her scalp, he finally gave in and harshly mashed his mouth to hers, swallowing the sigh that escaped her as he did.

Cooper was unsure how long they kissed, how long he plundered her swollen, eager mouth with his tongue before she stumbled onto her knees, pulling back slightly to pull air into her lungs. As she hovered there, eyes closed as she attempted to gather herself, he dug deep into the pocket of his duster and withdrew a Jet container, giving it a shake to prime it as she righted her breathing. Once she was steady once more, he cupped the back of her head again, bringing her to him and lifting it to her mouth. There was hesitation in her eyes, then disgust as the chem filled her lungs. It touched him with a twinge of amusement, knowing how badly the stuff tasted, watching her retch harder than before. He let her cough for a few seconds, allowing her a few half-cocked breaths of air before shoving the thing back between her lips and holding it down even longer.

By the time she managed to stop sputtering and drooling, he'd had a hit of his inhaler and started stroking his increasingly hard cock through his pants, watching her closely as she raised her now bleary, glassy eyes towards him. He waited for her to mouth off, to complain, to remark on anything that had happened, but instead, she sat there, unmoving, waiting for his instructions. She was the picture of obedience, but nevertheless, he could still see that glint of outrage behind her gaze, waiting to argue with him the moment she sensed an opportunity.

It pissed him off more than he thought possible, and, before he could even think to stop himself, he lashed out and slapped her across the face, the blow landing squarely in the center of her cheek and making her head turn away from him slightly. Surprising him again, she didn't make a sound, but she also didn't correct her head to look back at him.

Pulling a long drag off of the Jet inhaler himself, he held it deep in his lungs as he grabbed her by her long hair to kiss her again, exhaling the stuff right down into her lungs. She kissed him back until she choked on the sensation, leaning away to spew and cough more.

"Wanna prove you're sorry?" he hissed, his brain buzzing with the fresh hit as she leaned against his knee. "Clean my boots, vaultie. Show a little humility for once in your life."

His words were mean, meaner than he should be right now, but she didn't seem to register their full weight as she struggled to focus her eyes on the boots in question. When she lifted those dark, glassy pools back to his, he could see she knew what he meant, a heavy blush staining her cheeks and neck. Of course she knew what he meant; she was a smart girl, and her brain worked so much like his, even if she wouldn't freely admit it.

She looked up at him so dreamily through those thick lashes, though whether it was real affection in her eyes or simply the haze from all the Jet he'd forced down into her lungs, he couldn't tell.

In truth, his boots weren't as filthy as they could've been, as he'd cleaned the farmhand's blood off of them the night she'd taken off to get rid of the smell. But it wasn't about cleanliness; no, she'd humiliated him, her and her spoiled, entitled vault-dweller attitude, when she ran off, and he wanted to see her humiliate herself a little in kind.

The woman kneeling before him didn't hesitate as much as he'd thought she would, the red outline of his palm and fingers seeming to glow on her cheek in the dying firelight as she cast a vaguely-seeing glance around her, measuring her space before pulling herself into a sort of downward dog position, her round ass in the air as her marred cheek rested softly on the sandy ground. There was a moment of quiet tension as she seemed to study it, planning her approach before rather timidly leaning forward and running her tongue along the side, swiping a clean stripe across the tarnished black material from ball to toe. She gagged at first, likely from the dryness of the dust, but, again, she didn't complain.

He didn't have to tell her to clean the other boot; she did it with no prompting as soon as the first was finished, gagging less as she ran her pretty pink tongue all along the sullied, scuffed leather, and he couldn't believe how much it turned him on while equally failing to quell his indignation, his disappointment. Before she'd really finished her work, he yanked her up by her hair again; this time, she let out a slight yelp of surprise as he dropped her onto her ass, gesturing to her shabby, scavenged armor with one hand as the other began to wrestle his ammo belt, then his actual belt, open.

"Take that shit off."

Again, she did as he asked with only a moment's pause, placing all the little pieces of boiled leather and metal off to the side, her eyes flitting to him for a heartbeat before she proceeded with the rest of her clothes, quickly exposing herself completely. He could see her well in the moonlight, but not as well as he'd have liked, leaving her standing there, vulnerable and shivering ever-so-slightly as he took a good, long look at her. He was painfully hard at this point, desperate to have at least some minor relief from the confines of his trousers, but he was also uncharacteristically nervous at the idea of exposing himself to her this way. Beckoning her forward, he used her distraction as she kneeled once more to pull his cock free, grateful for the darkness and her weaker eyes.

"Suck me." he growled.

While he wasn't exactly pleased at how entirely fucked up he'd been going into this, he was sort of grateful that he couldn't feel almost anything with any vivid detail across the expanse of his body; the visual of her wrapping her dainty little fingers around him and obediently leaning down to take him into her mouth alone would have been enough to finish him if he'd have been able to feel her properly.

The way she went about it also seemed to indicate she wasn't entirely experienced, simply sliding her mouth down over his cock and setting to finding a pace that she could handle, as everything was surely spinning for her. For a while, he let her do so, fingers knotting into her hair again, before his patience wore thin and he began to push her head downwards, the sound of her gagging once more sending a thrill up his spine. Even with the numbness from the most recent hit seeping through him, he wasn't able to keep it up long before he yanked her back, taking in the drool hanging down from her swollen lips.

Cooper gave his spit-slicked cock a few firm tugs, hissing from between his worn teeth at her as he sat back, making room for her on his lap.

"Now get up here and show me you know who you belong to."

She didn't even look towards her bag, towards the condoms he knew she kept tucked deep inside her little toiletry pocket, as she quickly and sloppily pulled herself up into his lap. A part of him knew that he'd have stopped her if she did try to put one on him.

He tried so hard to not think of Barb as the pretty young thing on top of him began to sink down and envelop his cock in her heat, tried so hard to not feel guilty for giving himself to another, and he failed miserably. She felt heavenly, tighter and warmer and sweeter than he could've ever imagined, and he hated himself for how much he loved it, for how alive it made him feel when for so long he'd simply been existing. The choked noise that left his dry throat as the aching head of him fully breached her wasn't a sob, but he wouldn't have known what to call it.

It must've seemed to her, he thought, that he was forcing her to do all the work out of anger, wanting her to fully prove that she wanted him, that she was his; this was true, but he was also terrified, deep down, of how he would react if he allowed himself to freely touch her the way he wanted. He feared he would literally rip her limb from limb in his intoxicated state, sink his teeth into her pillowy flesh until it bled, tear a chunk off of her and swallow it so that she could be part of him forever.

He couldn't tell if the way she huffed and whimpered her way down his length was because she was high and hypersensitive or because she'd never been with a man this way before. That thought was quickly and harshly banished from his brain, however, his hands finding the plush fat of her hips, fingertips digging hard into the soft, supple flesh.

"Good pup." he breathed out when he eventually felt her ass rest on his thighs, fully sheathing him inside her.

The whimper she let out in response, her tight little clasp quivering around him as she clumsily reached out and braced her hands on his shoulders, made him throb hard, leaving him at least slightly grateful for his intoxication once again. If his numbed brain and body had been able to feel her fully, he knew he would've absolutely shot his load already.

Cooper struggled to stay still as she moved experimentally on top of him, lifting and lowering and grinding herself a few different ways before she found a rhythm that made him let out a throaty moan, the ghost of a smile flashing across her sleepy face as she rode away at him for a while.

What he really wanted, deep beneath all the unwanted feelings and unanswered questions about things he didn't want to think about right now, was to knock her up. For so long now he'd thought of her as his, and now that he'd claimed her, he wanted nothing more than to see her round and full to the brim of him. He wanted her to need him, to be completely dependent on him to provide for her and keep her safe.

He wanted her too vulnerable to get away from him.

On top of him, her movements were rapidly losing all coordination as her glossy, heavy eyelids drifted shut, her head nodding violently as she struggled to maintain her pace. He'd given her too much for someone who didn't use regularly, someone her size, and she was crashing out, falling asleep against her will right there. Poor thing.

He slapped her again, the sound ringing out across the vast, empty desert, watching closely as she startled back into a fully upright posture, her hips stilling for a moment before slowly beginning to churn again, her gaze unfocused.

"Mmm." she murmured groggily, leaning forward and placing her forehead against his shoulder, her arms winding around his neck as she tried her best to keep in some sort of motion.

This gesture, the way she cuddled up to him and sought comfort, support from him, even after the way he'd treated her, the fact that he'd literally just slapped her awake, was the only thing she'd done thus far that truly quelled the ugly, raging anger inside him.

"Thought this stuff was s'posed to wake you up." she sighed into the crook of his neck. She was entering the peak of her high, her body pitifully liquid against his chest as she clearly struggled to stay upright.

Personally, Cooper was reaching the un-fun part of his comedown, where everything started to feel grating and the mind began to uncloud, providing an increasingly painful level of clarity, but the senses remained muddled in a way that provided more discomfort than relief.

"Usually does. You had too much, baby." he responded, the mild chastisement in his tone doing a poor job of hiding the guilt behind it. His naked hands stroked reverently at her back, at the long, wind-swept hair that flowed down it, mindful to hold her so that she wouldn't lilt too far to one side as he attempted to soothe her.

Familiar with the unpleasant swimming sensation too much Jet could give you, he let her relax fully against him, the small sigh she let out one of gratitude as her whole body sagged even further. But she didn't stop grinding against him, probably out of some sort of pleasure for herself, he figured as he could feel her greedy insides tugging around him. He hid his grin again, this time in the crook of her neck as his hands found her hips once more, easily lifting her a few inches before dropping her down again, bouncing her on his cock as she rested.

Things went on like that for a spell, him bobbing and rocking her naked, lax body on top of his as she curled up on his shoulder, cooing and nodding off from time to time. As his high wore off, the sensitivity in his body was returning, and it made her feel more and more overwhelming as he continued to fuck her, her hot, wet little cunt leaking all over him as he continued to use her body to get himself off.

She seemed to be more conscious now than before, though barely, jostled awake by the increasing force of his thrusts up into her, bare breasts heaving with the movement. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to trace his lips down her chest, sealing them around her puffy, erect nipple and swiping his tongue along her slightly salty flesh. In response, her arms tightened around his neck, holding him on her breast as she clenched around him hard.

"Cooper." she whimpered, and that single little sound pushed him right into what felt like the most powerful orgasm he'd ever had, his fingers digging into her hips far too hard as he dropped her full weight onto him, grinding her down onto his cock and yanking her against him. His head dropped back, dead weight as he let out a feral snarl, tapering off into a throaty moan.

As he throbbed his gift up inside her, she squirmed at the feeling, tucking her bright red face into the side of his neck in what read as slight embarrassment, giving little huffs and whimpers as he continued to fill her. Another, smaller wave of guilt nagged at him as she clung to him, as he held her as close as he possibly could, struggling to regain control of his breathing; even if she'd had sex before, she'd never done this.

He held her as long as she could tolerate, her grip around him loosening slowly as she moved closer to real sleep. His girl was exhausted through and through, lightly snoozing against his chest.

For a few minutes, he let her rest uninterrupted, scanning her over to assess how badly he'd fucked up. She seemed fairly intact, though certainly more bruised than before. Eventually, he went digging into her bag, knowing (hoping) that she would have Radaway somewhere, and letting out a small sigh of relief when he found some jammed into the bottom.

Only one dose; he would have to find her more, and soon. This would be enough to see her through the next day, though, and he was pleasantly surprised to note that she wasn't showing even minor signs of radiation sickness as he found a vein in her arm, starting up the intravenous line to administer the thick, yellowed solution. Surprisingly, she didn't rouse fully when he slid the included needle into place, but she did begin to stir and groan mildly as the stuff began to effuse. Dimly, he remembered being given it when he'd been in the service, and how shitty it could make you feel.

Softly, he stroked her cheek with the backs of his bare knuckles before setting to jabbing her with a Stimpak from his bag around where she'd stuck some staples in her belly, making a note to ask her what had given her the several inches-long laceration he saw there.

He hesitated, though, when he moved to give her a dose of Med-X he'd dug out from the depths of his saddlebag. Most of the Wasteland's mind-rotting and pain-soothing substances were on the table for him, and in great amounts, but he hated the way the opiate made him sluggish and sleepy, reducing his accuracy in a fight significantly. The pain relief it provided wasn't worth it if he ended up dead anyway.

Smoothskins loved it, though, so he usually kept a few syringes on him for bartering purposes. Never did he think he'd be happy to give so much of his stash away for free.

He knew she must be hurting, or, she would be when she woke up, whenever that was. But he was hesitant to give her anything else, both for fear of how she would react, and, somewhat selfishly, because he knew a proper dose would make her sleep even longer, and he was desperate to actually get to speak with her again.

If she asked for the stuff, he'd give it to her. But...tomorrow. After they'd gotten a chance to discuss everything that had happened with cooler, more sober heads. After he was sure she wouldn't wake up in the morning and hate him for what he'd done to her.

His fingers played softly in her mussed hair as the indigo cover of night faded into the periwinkle of twilight, washing her nearly grey in his arms. She slept hard awhile, undisturbed until the awkward angle of her neck made him gently resettle her into a more comfortable-seeming position, letting her slip down until she was curled up in a ball on her side in his lap, her head supported in the crook of his elbow. Lying this way, he'd have to hold her up while she slept, but he found himself strangely excited at the prospect.

"M'sorry I ran away." she murmured suddenly after a long period of silence, readjusting herself in his lap to curl closer.

"I know, kid. I forgive you." he replied after a moment of hesitation, the words soft and strange as they formed on his lips. He petted her hair as gently as he could manage. "Did a good job findin' your way back to me, pup. Proud of you."

"Mmm. Please don't be mad at me." she echoed his own thoughts softly, so slurred as she finally began into unconsciousness that it was barely intelligible, her face buried in his side.

"I'm not." he said, fully, completely honest for once in his long life. He let his eyelids rest, his hand on his gun, ready to stop anyone who would try to ruin this quiet moment under the fading stars. "I promise. Now, get some sleep, pup. I know you came a long way today."

She sighed at that, as if to say "You have no idea." before flopping loosely into his arms, and was snoring lightly within a minute. He allowed himself a small smile at this, at how earnest and adorable she was.

"Good girl." he murmured.

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

226 notes · View notes

thesightstoshowyou · 5 months

Text

Generosity

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x F Reader (NSFW)

Summary: The Ghoul has never been one to refuse a lady in distress.

Warnings: Discussions of past domestic and sexual abuse, dacryphilia, dubious consent, biting, use of “daddy,” dirty talk

Everyone go bow down to @lilkrissmuffet and her delicious prompt idea

Gif by @melodyoffire

The Ghoul ought to thank you. You’re an easy bounty to track. In your obnoxious blue and yellow jumpsuit, you stick out like a sore thumb among all the lifeless tans and browns of the wasteland. Shivering and scared, you’re a prey animal in a foreign land inhabited by predators, and you just ran headfirst into the worst of them.

Despite the split lip and jaundiced bruise over your eye, you’re a pretty little thing. Stupid too; you turn and bolt like a startled whitetail when you spot his twisted face and the hand cannon nestled in its holster. The Ghoul doesn’t blame you, though. If he were in your shoes, he’d run too.

The lasso hooks you around an ankle and yanks your feet out from under you. You crash to the ground in a flurry of sand and flailing limbs. A few, quick tugs and you’re thrashing and wailing at his feet. A knife to the throat and a whispered threat to cut out your tongue and fry it up for lunch quiets you down in a hurry.

“P-Please, please, no, I c-can’t go back, please, you don’t know what they do to us down there!” They always beg. Though, none of them beg quite as sweet as you.

The Ghoul turns his apathetic gaze to your watery eyes. Your lips are chapped, the bottom one trembling as you struggle to keep your blubbering contained. Tears streak through the dust that has collected on your sunburned cheeks. Before now, you probably never went a day without a shower.

“Honey, you got no idea what I know.”

On the horizon, thunderheads build. The ominous rumbling and static that fills the air tell the Ghoul it will soon be too dangerous for you to travel. The muscles in his face flex as he works his lower jaw back and forth. If it’s not one fucking thing, it’s another.

Rain pummels the ancient shingles of the ramshackle house, your temporary accommodations for the evening. In the corner, you sit huddled and trembling, your sniveling audible in the lulls between cracking thunder. Flashes of lightening glint off his blade as it slides across a whetstone.

From under the brim of his hat, the Ghoul watches you square your shoulders and inhale a fortifying breath. Here comes the bargaining.

“Excuse me, Mr…?” He says nothing in response to your timid question. A head tilt and a quirked brow are the only indications he gives that he’s listening. Voice quivering, you try again, “Um, I-I know there’s probably a reward for…for bringing me back—

“Yer husband’s offerin’ a handsome sum of caps for yer safe return. So, unless ya’ got double that stashed in that lil’ uniform a’ yers, ya’ can shut yer trap.” The Ghoul sees the tears welling up in your eyes from across the room. Now the sob story….

“Please! Please just listen. They…we’re used like chattel down there! He, my-my husband…” you spit out the word like it’s poison, “…hurts me. Hurts me all the time. I’m not the only one, there are other wives, others he hurts. I’ll-I’ll do anything not to go back, please. I don’t have any caps, but I’ll do…I’ll do anything.”

The promise of that last word hangs in the air, thick and heavy like the humidity from the thunderstorm. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand what you’re offering. If he were a weaker man, or if he cared even a little for your predicament, perhaps he’d take you up on your “generosity,” but pussy doesn’t pay for chems.

“That’s mighty generous of you, sweetheart, takin’ pity on a lowly Wastelander like myself.” The Ghoul’s tone drips with sarcasm. He revels in the way you stumble over your apologies, your ‘No-that’s-not-what-I-meants.’

Casually, he adjusts his position, the hand holding the knife draping across his bent knee so he can more comfortably observe your floundering. Admittedly, the desperate tears pouring down your face are beginning to stir something deep in his belly. It’s too easy to imagine how you’d look under that vault suit: So much supple, unmarred skin begging to be bruised….

You’d offered, the Ghoul supposes. He isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, what the fuck else is there to do around here?

How you ended up beneath him, nearly bent in half and taking him up to the hilt is all a bit of a blur, but it’s too late now to question things. You’re wet and mostly willing, gripping him so tight it almost hurts. You were a fantastic little actress—probably have to be with your home life being what it is—mewling like a kitten just how most men would adore, but the Ghoul isn’t most men. A “performance” isn’t what he had in mind.

Now, you scream for real. Your nails dig into the gnarled flesh of his shoulders and fresh tears wet your face as the Ghoul grips you behind the knees and jackhammers into your suckling hole. “That’s more like it, sweetie,” he urges, his voice clipped and hoarse. “Keep cryin’ for me.”

His teeth find the soft skin of your neck and the urge to sink them in deep and tear your throat out pulls a growl from his chest. However, you’re worth a lot more alive. The Ghoul settles for sucking a purple bruise onto your flesh instead. You taste like salty sweat with barest hint of familiar floral perfume.

“Oh—god, god, D-Daddy don’t stop—

You choke on your words when you realize what you said. He chuckles low in his throat when he feels the embarrassed heat rushing to your face. “Now who told ya’ t’call me that?” he teases.

Furiously, you shake your head and stammer, “I’m-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—

“No, no, baby, I never said I didn’t like it. Let’s hear it again. Tell Daddy how good that lil’ pussy’s feelin’.” Your needy whine makes him groan and renews his desire to fuck orgasms out of you until you pass out.

He does, almost. He fucks you until the downpour outside tapers off into a light sprinkle, until you’re sore and drooling into the dirt. He fucks you until dark bruises in the shape of his fingers bloom along your hips and your blood dries on his lips because he couldn’t help but have a taste of your sweet skin. He fucks you until he has no choice but to pull out and paint your inner thighs with spend; he’d pump you full but he has no desire to share his last bag of Radaway.

Sated and feeling merciful, the Ghoul lets you sleep off your fucked-out stupor until afternoon the next day. He spends the morning resting and refueling and sucking down Jet while you doze, oblivious. Golden rays of sun pour in through the holes in the rickety house frame and illuminate the gentle rise and fall of your shoulders. The word “peaceful” comes to mind as he notes the way your worried frown has smoothed out in slumber.

But, all good things….

The Ghoul stands with a groan and a long stretch before he slings the saddle bag over his shoulder. He nudges you with the toe of his boot and rouses you with an energetic, “Rise and shine, sleepin’ beauty!” You roll over and blink up at him, bleary-eyed and befuddled.

“Wha…?”

“Got a lot of ground to cover today. Make yerself decent.”

“What…what are you talking about? Where are we going?” Your confusion would be endearing if he didn’t already know what comes next.

“Well, sugar, I got a bounty to cash in on. Now, are ya’ gonna behave or am I gonna have to drag ya’, kickin’ and screamin’ through the dirt?”

“But-but last night…!”

“Last night was real sweet, darlin’, but Daddy’s got bills t’pay.”

Most men would be moved or even ashamed by the look of betrayal and rage etched in every inch of your expression.

But the Ghoul isn’t most men.

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout #fallout show #fallout 2024 #thesightstoshowyou

238 notes · View notes

sweetbunpura · 4 months

Text

Time for a much needed update to my blog!

Hi, Hi! I'm Pura! I'm a fanfic writer for a bunch of fandoms! Some fics are published, some aren't-and shall remain unpublished.

I'm Black, 29, Pansexual, She/her, has ADHD (which explains so many of these little ideas I have that show up and disappear into the night)

Link to my fics: AO3

TWST Writings:

Beehive: Someone in NRC tries blackmailing Yuu to get her to date him, she says no and pictures of her get spread around the school. AO3 and Tumblr - Complete, due for a rewrite

Symbiotic Relationship: Eels and Shrimps have a Symbiotic Relationship. Jade and Floyd have that with Yuu, she treats them as friends and not enemies, in return for her friendship, they protect her. So, when Yuu gets badly injured, Jade and Floyd protect what is theirs. AO3 - Complete

Charmed by the Sea: If Yuu had a madol for being in the middle of someone's family nonsense by accident, she'd have three madol, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it's happened three times. Of course, it would've been nice if Jade and Floyd had warned her first about their parents visiting. Sequel to "Symbiotic Relationship". AO3 - In progress.

Stolen Jackets: Yuu somehow manages to gain a collection of stolen jackets from the NRC boys that they had left at Ramshackle. She decides to wear them around the campus, much to the dismay of some of the owners of the jackets. AO3 and Tumblr - Currently writing, infrequent updates. Next up: Leona (Clubwear)

Twst Rambles: Where I ramble about random ideas I've had that refuse to leave my head, some of which may become fics.

TWST fanchild - Welcome the Fankids for some of the NRC boys~

Dorm Outfit Wars - What started as Leona being his petty self has now spiraled into all the dorms getting Yuu to wear their modified dorm style outfits

TWST x PKMN - Potion mishap causes Pokemon to be brought into the TWST world

Return to Wonderland AU - An AU of Yuu where they were taken from TWST into a different world, only to return to TWST during the entrance ceremony. Now they have to renavigate a world that was lost to them with magic. Oh, and they may have a sibling or a parent just chilling at NRC, no big deal. (Also might be a sibling to NBC and RSA). If you like this idea, feel free to just make up a Yuu for this, anything is welcomed! (Moved over to @return-to-twisted-wonderland)

Sanctuary - Haha, what's this? A joke I made about Yuu and Rollo unintentionally dating has now spurned into a tag and gained a mind of it's own. It's an AU of sorts, since that would mean Rollo got kicked out of NBC and now attends NRC.

Welcome to Ramshackle - The residents of Ramshackle: Yuu, Grim, Rollo, Fellow, and Gidel! It's becoming a proper dorm with the only outlier being they have to live within close proximity to each other! Ties in to being it's own stand alone AU or part of Sanctuary.

Twisted Wonderland OC's

Yuuki “Yuu” Homura (Yuusona)/ Bio/ Chart

J.J. Tulgey/ Bio

Alexander Ramos/ Bio

Rouge Willow/ Bio

Jet Mordus / Bio

Rascal Gallucci/ Bio

Goliath Gallucci/ Bio

Aster Nightingale/ Bio

Xavier Soria/ Bio

Kabir Trak / Bio

Fatun Axebi / Bio

Evan Montgomery/ Bio

Lancaster Stevens/ Bio

Ignatius Bolt / Bio

Obsidian Woodsdale/ Bio

Night Alexander (Retired, became Obsidian Woodsdale)

Atlas Lakia / Bio

Staff

Howard Chestnut

RSA

Dorm leaders and Vices

Whose dating who?

Yuu x Floyd

J.J x Evan, even tho it's the on again off again nonsense

Rouge x Ruggie

Obsidian x Cater

Lance x Idia (It's a crush both of them refuse to acknowledge or even think about)

#Masterlist #twisted wonderland #twst oc

109 notes · View notes

pan-problemed · 5 months

Text

A body on the step and lies all about - i

cooper howard x angel!gn!reader

tags; slow burn, character study, cowboys, angels, religion, gender neutral reader warnings; none

masterlist | cross posted on ao3 inspired by the fallen by @geeks-universe! please check it out summary ; You are an angel, trying to help humanity build what their leaders destroyed. He is a man cursed to painful immortality, trying to survive in the world his leaders destroyed.

He thought he had squashed out all that remained of his humanity, but here you were, all gentle hands and knowing looks, throwing a wrench into the character he had so carefully constructed.

Some of the others questioned why you remained on Earth, even after Father’s creations had burnt it in fire and gamma. They had all given up hope that good may remain and therefore given up on all of them.

You knew not all of them were at fault - a single secretary could do nothing in the face of her government’s greed and hubris. She could not be blamed, could not be declared evil for someone else’s crime.

Still, grief was something you had become intricately familiar with. Looking at the ashen remains of all Father and humanity had created, you felt nothing but grief in its rawest, most volatile form.

But you remained. You held onto that hope, because what else were you without it?

Few of your siblings remained on Earth, equally dedicated to protecting and nudging humanity in the right direction. You remained in contact, despite millennia-long arguments on right and wrong.

If you asked yourself back in the 20th century whether you’d find yourself allies and almost friends with Lucifer himself, you wouldn’t have believed it.

But here you were. Constantly tasting the acidic flavour of radiation in the air, watching as humans tore each other apart again and again and tried to undo what they had done each time.

---

Purdue had grown into a careful little town in recent years. Before, they had called it West Lafayette, and before then it was Chauncey. But now it was Purdue, named after the title stamped into cracked signs and burnt textbooks.

They still used the old street signs - someone had taken time to repaint the little forest green rectangles and white letters.

Fondy was a bar built in the bottom floor of an apartment building, half of the letters had fallen off with age, the original name lost to time. Some of the apartments now were used as an inn, though not many travellers ended up in Purdue when Lucas Oil and Big State were only a day’s walk south.

And here you were, sitting at the counter as Buddy Holly’s voice buzzed from the little restored radio on the counter. Lukas Striker had recently set up in Big State, and you had provided a generous donation of songs to the bright-eyed boy. What a King was doing starting a radio show in the remnants of Indiana was beyond you, but you were happy to indulge.

You had always liked music, after all.

You were nursing your first drink of the night - whisky, caravanned out of Kentucky. The bitter taste was familiar on your tongue. Nothing compared to the expensive drinks Lucifer would encourage you to indulge in back in the day, alongside corny movies and drunken exchanges of stories.

He had been on a Western kick in 2076 and some of ‘77, particularly fond of one pretty little actor named Cooper Howard. His dark hair carefully slicked back reminded you of a gang you met back in the day, though it took quite a few more drinks to pull that story out of you.

You reckoned, if they ever made a movie about them, put some facial hair and cigarettes on Howard and he was practically the spitting image.

The ice clinked against the stained glass as you thought back to those late nights, drinking and laughing at the humans’ entertainment.

Before the resources grew too few, and the humans’ greed too powerful.

The ramshackle wood doors creaked open, announcing a new customer, but you didn’t look up from the spot you were studying on the counter. It had been built out of old signs and car parts, you could see a Toyota logo.

He sat three stools from you and ordered in a low voice, heavy with a southern accent. Speaking of Westerns, you thought to yourself.

You cast him a brief glance. He had rough skin, most of it covered with a ragged duster and clothes stained brown. His hat was angled to shield his eyes, despite being inside, and you could see the way his hazel eyes studied the room curiously.

You recognised his kind - mortals cursed to immortality. Skin ragged and burnt. Some had their brains melt away with the cartilage and hair, but others held onto their sanity despite.

His gaze met yours - intelligent, calculating, suspicious - and you held it for a moment, sizing each other up.

There was something familiar about him that tugged at your tongue, but you couldn’t puzzle it out just yet. You would keep an eye on him, then - he had a dangerous look about him.

The radio buzzed as the music rolled over to Billie Holiday. You didn’t look away, even as his drink was passed to him.

Finally, he downed the thing in one gulp and slammed the glass on the counter, leaning forward. “Reckon I’ve seen you before.” He mused.

“I thought the same.” You replied evenly, taking a careful sip from your drink.

The two of you fell silent again. You wondered what he was thinking, why he wasn’t ignoring you as you had planned to do to him.

He gestured for another drink, and the bartender hesitated for a moment. The man sighed and retrieved a few coppers, which seemed to appease the bartender for now.

“What brings you to Purdue?” You decided to ask, growing uncomfortable with the tense silence in the nearly empty bar.

He hummed, leaning back in his seat and draping one arm on the counter, tilting his head to look at you.

It clicked, then, who you were looking at. Speak of the devil (haha), the hollowed out ghost of Cooper Howard sat in that torn duster, staring you down with curiosity and bitterness in those chesnut eyes.

“Work.” He replied simply. “You?”

You shrugged. “I travel.”

He paused, tilting his head a little further, and you couldn’t help but compare him to a little labrador puppy studying something new for the first time.

The conversation largely ended there, though both of you did ocassionally hum along to the music playing from the radio. He was much more quiet than you, but the tapping of his fingers and the soft rumble of his voice didn’t escape your attention.

You gave him a friendly smile as you left, though he ignored it.

And you wondered.

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #fallout #fallout tv #fallout tv series #fallout series #x reader #fallout x reader #gender neutral reader

83 notes · View notes

cyberneticfallout · 4 months

Text

Chapter Eight: The Yao Guai's Visit

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: The two of you seek shelter for the night, enjoying a brief moment of domesticity before a glowing yao guai stalks through. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventually more smut, language, canon-typical violence, chem/alcohol use, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.7k

The two of you manage to find a ramshackle of a home. Sure, half the roof is missing and there’s a gross amount of radroaches but it feels like a haven compared to the risk of sleeping out in the open. Without wasting time, both of you start working - getting rid of the pests and settling into your newfound shelter.

While he gets a fire going in the more open area of the tiny dwelling, you sit on the floor, rummaging through your bag, contemplating what meal to prepare. You had discovered a few packaged meals like Blamco Mac and Cheese, Cram, and InstaMash from the Super Duper Mart. After a bit of consideration, you decide on Cram mac and cheese for tonight's dinner. You can't help but wonder, though - does he still have his taste buds? It's possible for some ghouls to retain some sense of taste. However, if he's been like this for two centuries, it's highly likely that his taste buds may have deteriorated.

You're grateful that those so-called sheriffs didn't confiscate your weapons or any items from your bag. Although you rarely use the pip-boy nowadays, it's handy for monitoring your health status and checking possibly high radiation levels in new areas. Seeing you fiddle with the device, the Ghoul decides to join you, taking a seat beside you as the fire roars into a steady blaze.

“Keep that on you. It will notify us if there’s any sizable mutants nearby.” He commands.

"Aye, aye captain," you half-heartedly salute him as you secure the pip-boy onto your wrist with a click.

Getting up, you make your way to what remains of the kitchen area and start rummaging for any cookware. After some searching, you find a decently sized pot, fill it with a carton of somewhat purified water from your bag, and position it over the fire. As you begin preparing the meal, The Ghoul silently observes, watching as you cut up the Cram into bite-sized pieces and add the macaroni pasta into the now boiling water. There was something so domestic about the whole thing, a rare moment of nostalgia washes over him, reminding him of a time when such simple comforts were more than just a distant dream.

After some time passes, you manage to create a modest dinner for the two of you. The effort you put into the meal is a bit surprising, but it's a welcome change from the usual scavenged scraps. The scent of the food wafting through the air adds a touch of comfort to the desolate surroundings.

"It’s too bad you can’t smell this," you joke as you hand him a serving with a bent spoon and an intact bowl you found. "I’m hoping you can at least somewhat taste it?"

With a glare, he quickly devours everything in the bowl before setting it down, offering a nod in your direction. He then leans against the nearby wall, the weight of the day's chaos settling between you. The silence that follows is a welcomed break, allowing you both to catch your breath and collect your thoughts. But as the quiet lingers, the unanswered questions from the day's events weigh heavily on your mind.

"What did that guy mean when he said you’re still looking for her?" you ask quietly, taking a bite of food.

"None of your damn business, Smoothie," he retorts, his tone sharp and guarded.

"Is it a wife or somethin'?" you press, unable to shake off your curiosity.

"If you don’t drop the subject, then I will shoot you," he warns, pulling his hat down to cover his eyes. Just as you're about to argue, the geiger counter on your pip-boy starts going off, the sound cutting through the tense atmosphere. The Ghoul looks up at you, alarmed, and rushes to put out the fire. As you stand up and look around for any sign of what could be causing the disturbance, you feel a sudden grip on your arm as he pulls you towards the wall, pressing you against it and covering your mouth with one of his hands.

“Shut the damn thing off,” he whispers urgently to you. You hastily flick through the device and manage to turn off the geiger counter, the sudden silence amplifying the tension in the room.

As you stand frozen against the wall, a hand tightly gripping your waist and another muffling your frightened gasps, he silences you with a shushing motion. The sound of a deep, rumbling growl resonates ominously from the other side of the wall, causing your heart to pound with such intensity that you fear the creature on the other side will hear it.

Desperate for any distraction, your eyes dart towards the nearby window, revealing a glowing yao guai leisurely strolling around the building. His gaze locks onto you, his eyes filled with intensity, as if he can sense the frantic rhythm of your racing pulse beneath your skin. His touch momentarily rubs circle on your waist, but he withdraws abruptly, as though realizing the inappropriateness of the gesture.

Gradually, the footsteps of the yao guai fade into the distance. The Ghoul slowly removes his hand from your mouth, and for a few lingering moments, the two of you simply gaze into each other's eyes. Overwhelmed by a surge of unexpected courage, you reach out and gently caress his cheek, feeling the rough yet surprisingly smooth texture of his scarred skin. Drawing closer, your lips tenderly brush against his.

"You don't want this, sweetheart," he murmurs softly, his words barely grazing your lips.

"And how could you possibly know what I want?" you challenge.

A mischievous smirk dances across his face as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. "Well, considerin’ you keep referrin’ to me as 'beef jerky,' I'm inclined to believe that most people don't fantasize about dried meat."

"Maybe I do," you assert, the words barely a whisper as you close the gap between you two with a soft kiss. You can sense his hesitation as your part, a subtle tension in his body as he grapples with his own conflicting emotions. In a sudden, bold move, he leans in, capturing your lips with a hunger that takes you by surprise. A low, guttural moan escapes from his mouth, blending with your own as the kiss deepens.

His hand comes up to tug you towards him from the back of your head, intensifying the contact between you. The sensation almost leaves you breathless, eliciting a gasp that mingles with the shared breath between you. You bite his lower lip, a mix of playful teasing and unbridled longing in the gesture. He responds with a deep groan, the sound sending a thrill through you as he presses his hips into yours, the bulge of his arousal evident.

Your heart races as your hands glide down his neck, delicately tracing the contours of his skin. Your touch remains gentle and exploratory as your fingers nimbly unbutton his shirt, slipping beneath the fabric to reach his chest. Tracing the intricate patterns of his skin with care, you relish the intimacy of the moment. He twitches underneath your touch, his bare chest feeling the caress as if for the first time in ages.

Suddenly, he pulls back, his hand gripping your neck and pushing you away forcefully. He stares at you, his grip firm and unyielding. You're left wondering what caused him to snap. Could it have been because you touched his bare skin? You notice his expression shifts from intensity to a hint of vulnerability. His hand slowly releases its grip on your neck, and he takes a step back, creating a distance between you.

Stunned by the sudden denial, you watch as The Ghoul walks away and settles against the opposing wall. With crossed arms and a resigned posture, he leans his head back, uttering a soft “G’night” that hangs in the air like a final farewell to the intense moment you both shared.

Feeling a mix of emotions, you slide down the wall on your side of the room, your breath still heavy and your skin slightly damp with sweat. As you sit there, processing the abrupt end to the passionate encounter, you can't help but feel an anxious pang of rejection. The feeling begins gnawing at you, a heavy ache in your chest that lingers.

The morning sun finds you both silent and tense, caught in the aftermath of the previous night. The air between you is thick, filled with unsaid words and unaddressed feelings. Neither of you managed a good night's sleep, the discomfort of the cold, hard floor only a minor nuisance compared to the war within your minds.

As you both go about packing your things, each movement seems to echo loudly in the silence, punctuating the awkwardness that has settled between you. Neither of you dares to meet the other's gaze, the memory of the stolen kiss lingering in the air like a ghost.

In hindsight, kissing him was a foolish decision. You barely know him, and the little you do know paints him more as an uncompromising brute than a potential romantic interest. Despite the brief moments of camaraderie, he's been a prickly, distant companion for the most part. You find yourself questioning your actions, the taste of regret bitter on your tongue.

“So what’s the plan?” You attempt to lighten the mood, “Seems like we’re not after a head anymore.”

“We’re tracking a woman by the name of Moldaver. That's where the head is goin’,” he responds.

"Flame Mother…" you muse aloud, "I wonder what her deal is."

"I find myself askin’ the same about you," he murmurs almost inaudibly.

With an eye roll, you sling your bag over your shoulder, then give him a nod to signal that you're ready to hit the road. The Ghoul briefly mentions a letter he found on one of the men he shot up in Filly that references Moldaver. He believes that the same man was the son of an old associate of his, and that's where the two of you are headed - a long journey ahead. You take a deep breath, activate your pip-boy, and lock eyes with him. "Let's do this, beef jerky.”

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123 @sunnexaltation @coolrobloxkid28 @cheshirecat484 @capan-deveraux2 @rebelmarylou

#sorry for the delay - work has been CHAOS #beef jerky jokes until the day I die #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #cooper howard #Smoothie and The Ghoul

81 notes · View notes

eras-mus · 4 months

Note

hii ive had this idea for a while now and its basiclly a crossover with twst and monster high, it could be a clawdeen yuu or a operetta yuu or or a cleo yuu headcannons. but theres this other idea wity SIX the musical im not sure if youve seen it but you could do any of the wifes of your choosing but i would think it would be good if they were all platonic (especially with k howard)

I'm sorry but I'm not comfortable with doing the SIX Wives because they are based on real people!

I will do your Clawdeen, Cleo, and Operetta Yuu though!

-GN Reader

-Reader IS Yuu

Sorry it's short!

Clawdeen! Yuu

- Everyone first thinks that Y/n is related to Jack, and both of them have to constantly correct people on that.

- Y/n is unbelievably good at keeping Ace and Deuce in control because of their siblings in their world

- They probably redesigned their uniform and made a new outfit for every unbirthday party

- As much as they get along with Vil their best friend is Epel. Y/n understands why Epel doesn't want to learn useless manners and dress impractically and Y/n is able to help him make clothes he likes and that Vil approves of

- Vargas loves that they aren't afraid of playing hard and would put them in the spell drive team if they had magic

- Y/n probably spends a lot of their time at the Savanna Claw Dorm, helping Ruggie, working out with Jack, and talking (bickering) with Leona

Cleo! Yuu

- The change of being in Twisted Wonderland was pretty hard for Y/n, not having their daddy's money and not having any respect like they did in their old world, but it didn't take long for the students of Night Raven to fear them.

- They easily became Crewels favorite, from their sense in fashion to the kindness that they only had for their friends. However, Crewel tends to get frustrated when they turn into a complete diva.

- As soon as they met Vil the two were inseparable. They did skin care together, shopped for new clothes (paid for by Vil), and even started vlogging on Magi-Cam.

-Speaking of Magi-Cam, they grew a following on their rather fast, partly thanks to Vil and partly because people were so interested in Y/n being a mummy

-Half way through the year Y/n was running the school and helping overblotted students without breaking a sweat.

-The Ramshackle dorm had never looked so extravagant, Y/n had to get it redone because it wasn't fit to their standards. (Honestly they probably broke down when they first found out they were staying there)

-A couple of students confessed their love to Y/n but they turned down each one because they were so loyal to their significant other in their original world

Operetta! Yuu

- Y/n loved the Ramshackle dorm, it reminded them of the catacombs of their old school, they were able to restore the building and kept a lot of the original features

- They play music at Mostro Lounge for extra money, because of this Azul and them are relatively close, if Y/n has any information on a student they don't like then they tell Azul

- During book two Y/n was able to shut the Savanna Claw students up so fast

- When Epel starts speaking in his southern accent, Y/n is the only one who can understand him and normally has to help translate

- Speaking of Epel, Y/n and him will play sports together and Y/n might teach him how to fight

- Vargas loves how competitive they are and finds it amusing to watch the magicless students beat up his spell drive team

- They're definitely Teirns favorite mainly because of their accent

#twst x reader #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted #monster high #clawdeen wolf #operetta #cleo de nile #twst yuu

93 notes · View notes

its-in-the-woods · 4 months

Text

The Woman Who Couldn’t Die Part 3

master list

Part 1 , Part 2,

Pairing: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x Original Character

Alternative Universe where I make things up cause I can only research so much

Synopsis: His hands found their way to her hips, when was the last time he had looked at someone? Someone that he wasn’t trying to use, or kill. Her eyes roved over his, he kept waiting to see disgust or disinterest, instead her eyes just held his. A small smile played over her lips, as she glanced down

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning: This is based on fallout expect Canon typical: Drug use, dEath, graphic viOlence, suggestions of SA, NonCon (not by the mc) suggestions of non con bodily harm, body horror, angst, hurt/comfort, death or people and animals, ptsd, drugs and alcohol use, addiction, slow build, angst with no comfort

Note: These will be spaced out as I am heavily editing and researching them. Each chapter will be 2-3+k words. Tags will be edited based on the chapter, please make sure you read them.

Also note that I will not be spoiling any of the reading. I will keep my tags relevant without spoiling what is happening in the story.

Jade didn't expect to feel suffocated as they entered into the settlement. The place was busy, people rushed back and forth, and there was an air of uncertainty. Mutters of raiders hanging around had the men at the gates asking a lot of questions. They were almost turned away until the Ghoul had fished out a handful of caps. The guard had taken a second before snatching them and letting them in. The place was the usual, several ramshackle buildings shoved together and surrounded by piles of trash that stood as walls. People gave them both the side eyes as they moved through the different kiosks and grifters.

The Ghoul didn’t say much just moving off towards a ramshackle pharmacy, Jade sighed at that. Guessing that their deal was now done, dead raiders or not she had only paid him to get here. The movement of people made her skin itch, too many people, too many eyes, too much of everything. She pushed back that crawling feeling that was poking at her neck. If she was gonna lose it she needed to be somewhere private, outside town. For now, she just needed to get some new clothes that actually fit. She saw a small shop with various clothes peeking out through some dust-covered windows, the place looked mostly empty which would be a good spot to try and clear her head.

Her heart slowed as she made her way into the buildings going through the racks of pieced-together clothing. Hoping to find something that fits a little better than her current attire. Her stomach was still knotted from her breakdown in the woods. Kill or be killed, was how she had lived most of her life, but seeing the raider beg for his life just to end it, had snapped something in her. The raider couldn’t have been out of adolescence, just a kid really, they all were just kids. Trying to somehow survive in this world. She wondered if they would have even attacked them, but they would have. The Ghoul had several rounds in his shoulder to prove that, and the raider he had skewered as he jumped out of the bush would have cut her throat just the same. Going soft over the dead would help no one. She needed to keep pushing forward or she’d end up dead.

The woman at the front was watching her closely, as she pulled out a shirt, a pair of cargo pants, and a heavier jacket. She had managed to grab a small amount of caps from the raiders. It won’t be enough but maybe a trade could be brokered.

“How much for these?” Jade asked, undoing her bag and putting it at her feet. The woman at the front wore a scowl as she came up to the counter.

“Eighty caps,” The woman chewed, her eyes looking Jade over. She was slim, like most folks, skin tanned by the never-ending sun, wearing a handmade dress.

“Could I do thirty caps and trade you some chems?” Jade asked, pulling out a few of the chems she’d snagged off the raiders.

The woman looked over the chems in front of her, eyes narrowing at the different bottles. Lips screwed up as she assessed each vial. She held them up to the skylight above her.

“Where you get these?” The woman prodded, standing back and putting her hand under the counter.

Jade backed up immediately, only grabbing her bag and putting it in front of her like a makeshift shield. Hand resting on her pistol behind the bag, she wasn’t the quickest draw but she wasn’t gonna let scrawny get her without a fight.

“There were raiders outside the town, just took care of them. Scounged what I could, like anyone else,” She swallowed eyes looking at the vials of chems still on the counter. As the women twitched staring daggers at Jade.

A familiar click sounded and Jade turned to see the Ghoul standing there with his gun pointed at the woman. His face was tight underneath the wide brim of his hat. His clothes fluttered around him as he stood there like something out of one of the old West novels Jade used to read.

“The girl was just doin’ what we all doin’,” He said, moving around to grab the vials of chems off the counter. “You don’t like her deal, just say so.”

The woman moved slowly, putting both hands on the counter, her eyes wide as she watched the Ghoul move. Her hands shook slightly as she looked over the man.

“Just had a lot of raiders around Ghoul. Don’t need my shop known for dealin’ with unsavory characters, such as yaself,'' She sputtered, “If the girl wants the clothes I will trade her what she offered.”

The Ghoul turned to Jade who had backed up even further, nodding his head at the women. The younger woman moved to drop the caps on the counter, turning to take the chems back from the Ghoul. She placed those down and grabbed the pieces of clothing.

“Thank you, for the trade,” Jade said briskly, turning to make sure the Ghoul was following her out of the building. His gun was still pointed at the cashier as he moved through the doorway, the way he moved was more cat-like. Fluid, quiet, and with ease.

Outside the Ghoul grabs Jade’s shoulder and spins her around as she tries to move away. She stifled a squawk looking at his face, a hardened mask, eyes searching over her, was he looking to see if she was okay?

“Figured you’d have ditched me by now,” Jade said quickly, tucking her clothes into her bag and placing it back onto her back. Looking around to make sure no one else was gunning for them. A cold weight pressed against her stomach.

The Ghoul sighed, turning away from her, “You’re welcome too, Pips-squeak.”

“I am going to go see if there is any work, maybe make enough to get a room,” The woman stated before walking towards the building with painted INN on the front. Underneath the awning was a board with several dozen sheets of paper pinned to it.

Stopping, she was surprised to feel the Ghoul stop a few feet from her, “I can’t pay you anymore, the last of my caps were used for the clothes.” The words felt bitter against her tongue, despite only knowing the man for three days, she had grown fond of him. They worked well together if the Raider incident was any indication, but she was certain that they’d be going their separate ways here.

“Ya, tryin’ to get rid of me, tiny?” The Ghoul chuckled, “Pretty sure you’d be radrat bait if I hadn’t walk’d in there.”

“Just figured the contract was up,” She licked her lips, eyes scanning the flyers. Not much was actually sinking in, Jade had very little knowledge of how any of this worked.

“Said ya wanted to be a bounty hunter.” The man said casually, Jade could see from the corner of her eye that he was staring at her.

Jade turned, her hands tucking around the straps of her backpack as she looked at him. That prey feeling washed over her, “Yeah I did. What are you suggesting?”

The crooked smile came across his face, which made her stomach flutter, “Why not let me teach ya? Best bounty hunt’r around.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, moving slightly closer to him. “The best for now.” Trying to hold his eye contact and not let the fear and sudden arousal eat at her.

He let out a short laugh, grabbing a flier off the wall. “Come on, got some roaches to kill.”

***

The Ghoul rests against a tree trying to wipe his face of the green guts from the radroach. Jade wasn't far from him flicking her hands of the viscous liquid. Stuff was everywhere and on everything, thicker than molasses on a cold day.

They had traveled for a day to get to the farm, the farmer had been a bit too welcoming for his liking. Something about him was shifty, that and the fact there seemed to be no one else on the farm. That said he did give them half the caps before they even went to look for the roaches. It took an additional three days of searching to finally find the den, which ended up being much more than a den. It was a hive.

Both of them had run out of ammo, instead moving to machetes to cut and slaughter the never-ending swarm of beasts. Jade had got cut up several times. Nothing that stitches and stimpak won't fix, but it had made his heart clench to see the girl covered in both green and red blood. If she had died it would have made the whole thing much trickier, at least that’s what he told himself. They had managed to get all the way to the queen. A fat rotund thing that never stopped howling. Jade had climbed over the piles of dead bodies and decapitated the thing as Ghoul continued to fend off the last of the swarm. The woman had looked triumphant holding the things head in her hand, like some kind of warrior Queen.

Now out of the cave system, the Ghoul was unsuccessfully trying to get the slim off his face. It was becoming clear that some of the goop had gotten into his nose hole. It wasn’t the first time stuff had gotten up there, unfortunately he was fresh out of cotton swabs.

“Fuck,” He growled, pulling his gloves off with his teeth and slapping them on the ground.

“What’s up?” Jade said coming over and plunking her bag down, the queen’s head strung up in a tree. Didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention to the thing, plus it was proof they’d done their job.

The Ghoul felt around the edges of the cavity trying to figure out if he could dig the sludge out. Letting out a frustrated sigh, knowing his fingers would do more damage than good. He leaned forward and tried to shake it free but nothing came out.

“Do you have roach guts in your nose cavity?” The girl said, with a small chuckle as she diug around in her bag, and pulled out some cotton swabs.

He tried to wave her away, “It’ll come out on its own.”

“Oh hush, and hold still,” She said, grabbing his chin to look at her. Her hands worked skillfully to remove his hat so she could see what she was doing. The fading daylight is just enough for her to see into his nose cavity.

He froze, despite the number of scars she had. Her hands were soft, her grip on his chin firm as she tipped his head more to see what she was working with. He hadn’t been this close to her before, her eyes weren’t just brown. But brown with shots of green through them, her face mostly unmarred by the abuse she had suffered. Her hair slicked back into a ponytail full of roach guts. Her fingers worked quickly as she used the swab to scoop out some goop. He squirmed slightly, it was not painful but an uncomfortable feeling

“Shit, did that hurt?” Jade asked shifting so that she was nearly sitting in his lap.

The Ghoul just shook his head, he could feel how warm her body was. The way her thighs rested against his, her body almost pressing against his chest. His heart was pounding so loud he thought she’d be able to hear it. The Ghoul could hear her heart beating. Her hand loosened its grip on his chin and moved to rest on his shoulder.

“Almost got it, there is a little more, just hold on.” She whispered skillfully, grabbing another swab and inserting it carefully, he felt it brush inside his nose. Making him feel like he might sneeze for the first time since losing his nose. She pulled it out and flicked off the goop into the bush. She turned back and looked at him.

He couldn’t help looking up at her, her features were so soft and delicate. His hands found their way to her hips, when was the last time he had looked at someone? Someone that he wasn’t trying to use, or kill. Her eyes roved over his, he kept waiting to see disgust or disinterest, instead her eyes just held his. A small smile played over her lips, as she glanced down at his lips. Leaning in to kiss him.

His heart rate shot up as he felt her push her lips against his, mouth opening to lick across them. His hands gripped onto her hips as her hands gripped against his shoulders. Mind going bank as he pushed her off of him. He stood up, this was not happening, walking away from her.

“Wait. Stop” Jade shouted after him, but he kept moving forward away from her.

His mind was ablaze, he hadn’t kissed someone in years. A flash of a memory, the bombs dropping, holding Janey on Sugarfoot as they rode away. Her face as she screamed in the arms of soldiers dragged her away. Look on his wife’s smug face as they drove away. The moment he shot Sugarfoot because the animal was starving. His skin blistered in the neverending sun, and watching as his body changed, every time he got a cut or nick it would gnarl and twist. The look on a soldier's face when he came looking for help. The first taste of radaway, med-x, rad-x, and a laundry list of other drugs. The first time he had to kill someone just to eat. The first time he saw himself in a mirror, his nose sloughing off, skin a dirty meaty red. Begging for help and being shunned away. Called a monster, a creature, a zombie, a killer, a murderer. A Ghoul. He was a Ghoul. The word echoed around in his head like a bell chime.

His lungs were screaming and he dug around his duster pockets pulling out the inhaler. He pushed it into his mouth taking a shot back. His eyes rolled into his head as his brain went foggy before he collapsed onto the ground. His hands dug into the soil, the feel of soil under his fingertips. The sound of birds moving in the trees, bugs buzzing. He focuses on that, on the numbing sensation spreading from his lungs out. Coughing and spurting he pushed himself onto his feet, leaning heavily on a tree, mind finally quiet. He took two more puffs before the numbest finally stamped out the fire of the memories.

***

Jade watched him stumble away, her ass in the dirt baffled at what had just transpired. It was just a kiss, and here he was acting like she had asked him to fuck her. She spat some bug guts that had fallen from her hair, out of her mouth. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, before pushing herself up and off the ground. They had spent over a week living out of each other's pockets, it wasn’t like he was a bad-looking man. He was better looking than ninety percent of the men around this hellhole. Just cause he was a Ghoul didn’t mean she wasn’t attracted to him. She sighed going over to his bags to find a needle and thread, she’d needed to at least try and stitch herself up. The one on her left wouldn’t be too bad, but the cut that went across her back would have to wait.

She grumbled biting into a piece of stick as she sewed it up, her teeth clenching as the needle pulled in and out of her skin. Done, she grabbed a stimpak and jabbed it in with a small sigh as it numbed the pain. If the Ghoul ever came back she’d ask him to look at the other wounds. She cleaned the needle and tucked it back into his bag.

Her mind wandered over the day, the week. The unavoidable haze that was before that. Stomach knotting as she looked around the empty forest. It was mostly blank, she remembered some stuff and saw some of the marks on her. Luckily the stimpaks and whatever else they fed her had kept her body mostly intact. Even the places below the belt, how that whole area was okay was beyond her. The memory of the first time she had let herself feel down there flooded in.

One night while they were looking for the roaches, she disappeared to go pee. Had taken a moment to actually feel around there, something she had been terrified to do since she had left the outpost. Expecting to find scaring, tears, and more damage, but there wasn’t much. There were dozens of scars on her thighs, ass cheeks, two scars that had actually slit down each side of her cheek. Even so, maybe one day she’d be able to enjoy that part of herself again. One day, but that wasn’t something she’d really been concerned about till tonight.

Letting out a sigh she rubbed at the back of her neck where that tingling feeling still lay. That tingling feeling had spread and overwhelmed her when she had shot the Raider kid. It was always there, trauma, suppressed memories, things trying to crawl towards the surface.

“No, Nope, we aren’t doing that Jade,” She said out loud to the forest, “We are here right now. We are okay. We are okay. Just killed a bunch of radroaches, and got enough caps to get a bed for the night. Ghoul will come back, no way he’d leave his bag here. The bag means more to him than anything. Also the hat, the bastard would melt without his hat.”

Jade takes a few deep breaths, bringing up good memories. Looking after the calves on the farm, bartending at the Lazy Susan, the way the forest sounded, killing radroaches. She imprints those memories at the forefront. Focusing her mind to push everything back into the hole it had popped itself out of.

“Anything else doesn’t matter, we just keep going. We got this.” Jade says finally, shaking her arms and hands. Letting the feelings flow out of her like dust behind her.

The sun had started to set, as much as she wanted to light a fire it would be too dangerous alone. Grabbing her jacket she slipped it on, the cut on her back stung, she’d have to deal with that later. Instead, she gathered up their things and moved herself more central to the clearing. She also took a moment to cut down the head of the Queen. Grabbing some rope and tying it to the bag for easy pickup.

Briefly wondered if she should try to climb a tree to camp out overnight. Most of the trees around her were too small or didn’t have low enough branches to climb. The center of the clearing would be safest, and hopefully. the Ghoul would be back soon. Asshole anyway, Jade felt resentment at the fact she had let herself rely on him. Even with his gruff lone wolf bullshit attitude, something under that hard shell had made her feel safe.

As if he had heard her, the man sauntered through the forest, his marred features evident in the rising moon. He walked right up to her without a word snatching his hat off the bags and tipping it back onto his smooth head. He didn’t say a word, as he re-gloved his fingers and shouldered the bag. Before starting to walk off in the direction of the farm.

Jade huffed but packed up, and followed after him. Muttering to herself about him being a giant dickhead, she struggled to keep up with his pace. Her body ached from the various wounds that rub as she moved.

part four

*If you enjoy the story let me know! It keeps me writing!

*Want to be on the tag list le me know below

*more to come, this is fully plotted just a lot of editing and additions..

*Find me on AO3 here

#fallout #the ghoul #fanfic #cooper howard #writing #fallout tv #writer #angst #horror writing #fallout fandom #fallout series #fallout tv series #the ghoul cooper howard #the ghoul x oc #the ghoul x original character #the woma who couldn’t die

33 notes · View notes

ihavemanyhusbands · 2 months

Text

Quiet On Set!

Also on AO3

Pairing: Prewar!Cooper Howard x Latina!Reader

WC: 3.0k words

Summary: It’s your big break in Hollywood — you are cast in your first big film and your co-star is none other than Cooper Howard. // a little prequel to Vidas Pasadas :)

Warnings: none really! implied mutual pining (but nothing they can do about it), one instance of smoking, a little bit of Spanish, just kinda fluffy in general!

----

There was a polite knock on the door that made your makeup artist pause.

“Yes?” You called out.

The door swung open and a production assistant sheepishly poked her head in.

“They’re ready for you, miss,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you. Give me two minutes, I’m almost ready,” you said, glancing at your make-up artist. “Mind if I take a moment to myself?”

She nodded and both women left. As soon as the door closed, you let out a long breath. It wasn’t your first picture by any means, but it was your first big Hollywood picture, and the pressure that came with it was nearly insurmountable. But it was thrilling all the same, your limbs slightly jittery with excitement.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, already in full costume and makeup, and put on your best smile. You took a fortifying breath and nodded at yourself in encouragement. You got this.

You emerged from your trailer to the late California afternoon, greeted by the hustle and bustle of the studio lot. The production assistant led you to the sound stage, weaving around giant props or grips hauling equipment. You smiled at some passing extras who were dressed in military uniforms, some of them nodding in return.

When you arrived at the sound stage, she led you towards the director – Lenny Fletcher – who was talking to your co-star, Cooper Howard. You had met him briefly during the table read, but you hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to him otherwise. He exuded charm and confidence, with a hearty laugh and a brilliant smile that immediately drew one in.

You had to admit he was quite handsome, and not to mention an admirable actor, which was a big part of why you were so nervous. An up-and-coming starlet such as you had to put in a lot more effort to be able to match him on screen, especially if you wanted to be cast again.

And since you were also the love interest… Well, you hoped the kiss scene wouldn’t be too awkward for either of you. At least you had some more time to prepare, since it wouldn’t happen until the end of the movie.

“Ah, there you are,” Lenny greeted with a smile as you reached them. “How you feelin’? Ready for the first day?”

You nodded, keeping yourself from fidgeting with your costume. “Ready as can be.”

“That’s the spirit,” Cooper said, his enthusiasm contagious. “Don’t worry too much, Lenny here is a joy to work with. Me, on the other hand…”

“He has his diva moments,” Lenny said, then lowered his voice into a mock conspiratorial whisper. “If he gets a little fussy with you, you have my permission to wrangle him back into order.”

Cooper laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. You chuckled, already feeling some tension leaving your shoulders.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, sharing a brief glance with Cooper before looking away. “So, where do you need me to go?”

“Come on, let’s talk through things. We’ll do the exterior shots of the saloon first,” Lenny said, standing up to walk you and Cooper there.

The set was a small western town with a saloon, a bank, a sheriff’s office, and other miscellaneous ramshackle buildings. A few extras mingled about, and there were horses with their wranglers to one side.

Lenny explained that Cooper, who was a sheriff from a nearby town, would come riding in at the top of the scene. You, the daughter of the saloon’s owner, would spot him and dash inside to inform your father of the stranger causing a stir in town. Later on, you would eavesdrop on their conversation, and Cooper would catch you in the act.

Sparks would fly when you looked at each other, but of course, the stoic hero would have to pretend this wasn’t the case. He didn’t have time for such things after all, or so he’d tell himself. Even when you insisted on going along with him on his mission, going so far as to run away from home when he’d so adamantly declined.

And slowly, as you relished the freedom and the adventure, the hero would find himself softening with love.

“How does that all sound?” Lenny concluded, glancing at his notes to make sure he didn’t miss anything.

“Let’s do it,” you said, your conviction beginning to override your nervousness.

“Great, let’s do a rehearsal first. Let me see where camera’s at,” he said, striding off and leaving you and Cooper alone on the steps of the saloon.

“Hey,” Cooper said, noticing you starting to slip into character. “You’re gonna do great, I can already tell. Just have fun with it, alright?”

You nodded, smiling appreciatively. It sure was one of the prettiest smiles he had ever seen, but he immediately cast away the thought and swallowed hard. He placed his hat on his head and tipped it to you before walking off to where the horse wrangler was waiting. You listened to the sound of his spurs receding, thanking another production assistant who brought you a bottle of water.

You watched as Cooper got on his horse and absently petted its mane as he spoke to the wrangler. He looked up, but before he could catch you staring, you looked away and started going over your lines in your head.

—--------------------------

All said and done, your first day went much better than you’d expected. There’d been a few hiccups with the blocking a couple of times, but nothing that wasn’t quickly solved. Lenny had been delighted with how things turned out, saying he was really looking forward to the next day.

Cooper invited you to the studio’s commissary for a small celebratory dinner. You’d sheepishly told him you didn’t want to bother him, but he’d insisted, and in the end you happily relented. You slid into the vinyl booth across from him, thanking the waiter as he brought menus for you both.

“What’s good here?” You asked, looking it over.

“Depends on what you like. Cobb salad’s good, and they’ve got a decent steak,” he said, getting himself a cigarette from a silver case and lighting it up. “Oh, and they’ve got a killer root beer float, if you like that sort of thing.”

“Oooh, I’m definitely getting one,” you said. “Always been a sweet tooth.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” he said with a grin, ashing his cigarette on the glass ashtray. “My daughter Janey, she’s only one, but she’s the same way. Got that from her daddy.”

You chuckled, touched by the affection in his eyes as he talked about his daughter. You had noticed the ring on his finger earlier, so it hadn’t come as a surprise. Whoever had married him was one lucky gal.

The waiter came by after a couple of minutes and you placed your orders. You glanced around the place, still partially in disbelief you were there. Cooper noticed the wonderstruck look on your face and smiled a little to himself. He remembered being in your shoes, and how it had all looked to him then.

“So, tell me, what’s the verdict? You having a good time?” He asked, leaning forward on the table.

“Yeah, so far so good. It’s been… kinda crazy, I guess, but in a good way!” you said excitedly. “I’m used to sets being much smaller scale, you know. Got a couple of B movies and some telenovelas under my belt. I guess I just never thought I’d see so many people at once!”

He chuckled warmly. “Yeah, I get you there. You get used to the hectic flow of things. I can tell you’ll catch on in no time.”

The waiter arrived then with your root beer floats, and you immediately scooped up some whipped cream with a finger and brought it to your lips. Without noticing, some cream ended up on the tip of your nose.

“Um, you’ve got a little…” He trailed off, gesturing at his own nose.

His eyes snagged on the way you licked the rest off your lips before cleaning yourself up with a napkin. Your face heated up at having lost your manners in front of him.

“Sorry, I’m not normally a messy eater, I promise.”

He cleared his throat and let out a nervous little chuckle, trying to play it cool. He was confused as to why he was feeling those faint, unexplainable stirrings somewhere within him. Perhaps he was intrigued, not having worked with any new faces in some time. Perhaps he was drawn to that joie de vivre that came with being young and having your career ahead of you.

Or perhaps it was also the fact that you were undeniably beautiful, and quite talented to boot. It was impossible not to notice you, truly. Lenny had made the right choice in casting you.

Whatever the reason, he knew he had to keep it to himself. He didn’t have much of a choice to do otherwise, and he was content to work with you and get to know you more. Something told him you would get along swimmingly.

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me how it is,” he said, scooping up some whipped cream off his own glass and popping it into his mouth. “Best part of the float, in my opinion.”

You smiled and nodded, appreciating his attempts to put you at ease. The rest of the dinner went by smoothly, conversation flowing surprisingly easy. You felt yourself relaxing as time passed, laughing frequently as you swapped stories of past film shoots.

He answered every single question you had about his career, what films he liked best, and Hollywood in general. You felt like an overzealous fan, but he was patient and assured you he didn’t mind talking to you about it.

“We gotta look out for each other in this business, you know?” He said. “It ain’t always peaches and cream. But I’m sure you already know that, don’t you?”

You did, all too well. But you knew that any past problems you’d had weren’t nearly as high stakes as they would be going forward.

“So what you’re saying is… I can count on you whenever there’s trouble?” You asked.

He grinned lopsidedly. “You bet, come hell or high water.”

You let out an amused huff. “I hope you don’t end up regretting that.”

“‘Course not,” he said. “Don’t be silly.”

Soon enough, the place was starting to be shut down for the night, and the waiter politely but firmly urged the two of you to wrap it up. The two of you couldn’t help snickering, but you felt slightly mortified about staying so late. You had to be back early in the morning, after all, and you should’ve been back home a while ago to go over the script.

After paying, Cooper walked you to your car all the way on the other side of the lot. Most of the activity on the lot had died down by then, and once again you were awestruck by seeing yet another side of the place. In the distance, the Hollywood hills seemed to glitter with the lights of all the different mansions atop them.

You breathed in the fresh night air, counting your blessings. This was your life now, and eventually, it would become as familiar to you as the back of your hand.

—-----------------------

As it turned out, Lenny was really feeling the chemistry between you two. After almost two weeks of shooting, he even made some changes to the script as he got much better improvised moments between you. Already you felt much more at ease, like you’d been there for far longer.

It was fun, and not to mention easy, to work with Cooper. Sometimes, it barely even felt like acting, and those were the moments you liked best. He did most of the stunt work, but they soon found you were surprisingly nimble and could hold your own.

And that’s when Lenny had a new idea for the kiss at the end of the movie, when the two of you reunited after a brief separation. After completing his mission and taking out a group of bandits, you would exaltedly ride up to him and jump off your horse into Cooper’s arms.

It was a bit of an audacious move, and it took a long time to rehearse. But the kiss wasn’t part of the rehearsal, as Lenny wanted it to look as natural as possible in the moment. Still, after everything, that was the part you were most antsy about. You’d had plenty of on screen kisses in the past, but somehow it felt different this time around.

The day you were going to shoot that scene finally arrived. You weren’t needed on set until the afternoon, after Cooper had filmed the final showdown. You hunkered down in your trailer, listening to Connie Francis and Agustín Lara on your record player as you got ready.

And when the production assistant finally arrived to fetch you, your heart pounded fiercely all the way to the sound stage.

“There y’are,” Cooper, who was getting his makeup retouched, greeted with a broad grin as you arrived. “You ready to do this?”

“You seem awfully excited,” you teased, slightly raising an eyebrow. “Think we rehearsed enough times?”

“Oh, por supuesto,” he said confidently, his thick accent making you snicker. “What? I know my Spanish, too.”

“Si, claro,” you said, mock seriously.

“Oh good, I’ve been trying to get the studio to get him a Spanish tutor, but now he’s got you,” Lenny said as he approached. “Always good for a cowboy to have more skills, isn’t it?”

“They should put him in a telenovela next, the ratings would go through the roof,” you said.

“I don’t doubt it.” Lenny laughed. “Now come on you two, let’s get you to your marks.”

“Remember to plant your feet!” You called over your shoulder, and Cooper’s laugh trailed behind you as you made your way to the other side of the set.

Your horse was an even tempered brown mare that you had gotten familiarized with during all the rehearsals. You petted her mane as the wrangler gave you more pointers for the scene. Then he helped you onto the saddle, holding the lead in one hand.

From the middle of the set, Cooper waved and then pantomimed throwing a lasso at you, pulling towards him. You shook your head, biting your bottom lip to contain a smile. It wasn’t the time to get distracted, but the fact that he was your scene partner was reassuring. You’d come to trust him quite fast, witnessing his strong work ethic and sunny disposition. And it seemed he trusted you too, or at least you hoped so.

Given that this was the last scene of the film, you felt a little sad that it was almost over. You hoped that if it did well enough, the studio executives would consider casting you together more often. At least you figured your paths would cross around the studio lot, which was something to look forward to.

When the cameras started rolling, there was no room for hesitation. Thanks to all the rehearsals, it was much easier to hit your marks. You tightly held onto your wits, and the rein, when the horse dashed forward. Slowing it down at the right time was pivotal so you could halt at the marked spot next to Cooper, and that was probably the most challenging part of it.

But once you successfully got through it, kicking up dirt in your wake as you pulled up next to him, you threw yourself off the saddle with gleeful abandon. And in the next moment, without any thought to it, your lips met his. He repositioned you slightly in his arms and immediately responded to the kiss, holding you tightly against him.

It was sweet and short, but in your mind it seemed to stretch on infinitely. His lips were soft and sure against yours, leaving you more lightheaded than the actual stunt. Then he pulled back, the two of you looking at each other for a giddy, breathless moment.

“Figured it was about time one of us took the lead,” you said, grinning slyly. “And knowing how hard headed you are…”

“That so?” Cooper huffed in amusement. “Well, I gotta warn ya, sweetheart… You climb in the saddle, ya gotta be ready for the ride.”

“I jumped on the saddle the day I met you, cowboy.” You raised an eyebrow. “Or did you forget?”

The tip of his nose touched yours. “How could I forget? Gettin’ me in a whole lot of trouble left and right… Just what am I gonna do with ya, hmm?”

“Well, we could always start with another one of these.”

And so you drew him in once again, your straw hat falling off your head as he set you on the ground and dipped you backwards. You let out a little squeak of genuine surprise, holding fast onto him.

“And cut!” Lenny’s voice over the megaphone broke the spell, and Cooper straightened you both as he pulled away.

“Phew! What a whirlwind,” he said, grinning ear to ear even if he sounded like he was actually winded. “I’ll be damned, you fuckin’ nailed it!”

You bent down to retrieve your hat to hide a sheepish grin, waving him off demurely. “Think he’ll have us do that a couple more times?”

“Lenny does like his safety takes,” he said, winking at you conspiratorially as the aforementioned approached you both.

“Brilliant, you two!” Lenny exclaimed. “I want one more take of the stunt, and then we could pick up from the kiss if we need to. How’s that sound?”

You and Cooper shared a furtive glance, both individually figuring that perhaps a couple more takes wouldn’t be so terrible after all. There was a playful glint in his eye that made butterflies stir in your stomach, but you adamantly tried to push them aside.

You were just giddy because it had all gone so well, that was all… Right?

Well, no time to figure that out for now. In the meantime, you swallowed hard and once again put on your best smile.

“You’re the boss, we’ll do it as many times as you want.”

-------

#Cooper howard x reader #prewar!cooper howard #fallout fanfiction #Cooper howard fanfiction #Cooper howard x latina!reader #fallout x reader #Cooper howard #walton goggins #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul fanfiction

24 notes · View notes

small-world-au · 4 days

Note

*a wild Lila appears*

*she bites your sleeve, she trusts you!!*

Stone: “OWWWW! WT-?!”

My oc’s reactions of getting bitten by Lila ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Sora: “Ow! Uhhhh, hello there!” ^^ *pats Lila’s head*

Rowan: “SOMEONE GET THIS GREMLIN OFF OF ME-“

Natalia: “Ahhhh, como mi niña chiquita.🥹🥹🥹” (trans. Like my little girl.)

Howard: “Ow! Hello, small child.” ^^

Gabriela: “¡Awwww! ¡Que cosita más linda!” ^^ *pats Lila as she can no longer feel pain* (trans. What pretty little thing!)

#ramshackle #ramshackle au #ramshackle ocs #ramshackle sora #ramshackle Natalia #ramshackle Gabriela #ramshackle Howard #ramshackle Rowan #ramshackle Lila #ramshackle stone #she’s a menace and I’d freaking DIE FOR HERERR!!!!

3 notes · View notes

johngarfieldtribute · 2 years

Text

JULIE DOING “STUFF” WITH FAMOUS PEOPLE (10th post)

Above Julie takes finger food to a new level with Harpo Marx.

Above with Patricia Neal in a still from THE BREAKING POINT.

Julie and Jennifer Jones mask up as they dig a freedom fighting tunnel WE WERE STRANGERS.

The two actors are getting some background behind the scenes from director, John Huston for the same film.

Wonder if Julie picked up some tips from boxer, Bob Montgomery for BODY AND SOUL? Montgomery was a boxer who took the New York State Athletic Commission World Lightweight Championship in May 1943, and again in March 1944. His managers included Joe Gramby.

Pictured above in one of the earliest USO Tours, The Flying Showboat in 1941.

The Flying Showboat with John Garfield, Ray Bolger, Mitzi Mayfair, Oliver Hardy, Jane Pickens, Stan Laurel and Chico Marx in Miami on November 1, 1941. Here’s some explanation about The Flying Showboat from Laurel & Hardy Central:

“The Flying Showboat, a revue toured U.S. military bases in the Caribbean. Once again, Chico Marx was on board, with other stars such as singer Jane Pickens, dancer Ray Bolger and actor John Garfield, who acted as master of ceremonies. These stars performed under some extremely trying conditions, as the weather was brutally hot and many of the camps were not equipped to host theatrical performances. Chico, whose "shoot the keys" piano solos were the heart of his act, often had to do without a piano at all. Thankfully, Laurel and Hardy's Driver's License sketch needed only a few simple props. In any event, even the most ramshackle shows brought loud cheers from the troops, overjoyed that anybody had come to perform for them, let alone some of the finest talents Hollywood had to offer.”

Julie performs with actor, George Tobias at another USO show at Drew Field during the making of AIR FORCE.

The ensemble is ready for action for the film AIR FORCE directed by Howard Hawks.

Julie is pictured above with actor, Gig Young at Drew Field on location for AIR FORCE.

#john garfield #harpo marx #laurel and hardy #jennifer jones #ray bolger #Chico Marx #John Houston #we were strangers #the breaking point #Patricia Neal #air force film #howard hawks #gig young #george tobias #the flying Showboat #Julie doing “stuff” with famous people

22 notes · View notes

rocket-69 · 2 years

Text

I posted 5,744 times in 2022

120 posts created (2%)

5,624 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@lost-in-interwebs

@daxdraggon

@thespiral

@thefirstknife

@lesbenny

I tagged 1,673 of my posts in 2022

#good luck everybody - 108 posts

#ref - 43 posts

#boostin' - 34 posts

#ramshackle - 26 posts

#unreality tw - 21 posts

#night falls over novac - 18 posts

#falloutfun - 17 posts

#:) - 17 posts

#this is peak rocket tho - 15 posts

#ship nepenthe - 14 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#and dirt paths. and youve finally put your feet up and youve finally sat down and youve finally ate something that made you feel whole again

My Top Posts in 2022:

Everything around Carla Boone is a tragedy, from her potential future as a slave, her child's potential future in the Legion (trained to kill soldiers like his father, or...) to Boone firing the shot, being trained to fire that shot, and not believing himself worthy of anything but a life of bloodshed.

But a smaller tragedy is this: she was never going to be a happy housewife in Novac and what was going to be the Boone family is doomed from the start. Rightfully overshadowed by everything that actually happened of course.

Carla's biggest tragedy however is when she is reduced to a martyred ingenue- the death of a young, beautiful, soon-to-be mother, not even being mourned by many players as Carla herself.

479 notes - Posted June 15, 2022

FNV did something to my 15 yr old brain and I'm forever a little affectionate of messengers, mailmen, delivery drivers,

523 notes - Posted February 2, 2022

Wasteland Rule #1: if you kill the dad you become the dad

Wasteland Rule #2: Never trust a fucker in a skintight jumpsuit

523 notes - Posted April 27, 2022

875 notes - Posted July 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Ever since that Kotaku postmortem on 76 that described Todd Howard’s management style as “seagulling” I can’t look at how he talks about game development objectively

13,867 notes - Posted October 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #really feelin that head in hands fallout fan rn wrt the kotaku post

3 notes · View notes

ghoulfuckersincorporated · 4 months

Note

something tells me our ghoulie would be fond of period sex (i’ll go to horny jail now)

Bloodletting

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 2,839

Warnings: smut (18+), blood play, bloody cunnilingus/bloody kisses, period sex, masturbation (male), rough sex, creampie, biting.

Notes: Can't lie, this was my immediate thought watching him tear into that bloody chunk of meat for the first time. I usually try to include at least a little plot, but this is basically all porn. Very fun submission to write; thank you! Please save a good seat for me on the bench in horny jail, I'll be in promptly.

Fun fact: orgasms can help relieve period cramps for some people.

Today had been a poor choice of start point for this long walk.

Normally, trekking across the bombed out western seaboard was strenuous and uncomfortable enough, the deadly sun baking seemingly the entire planet to a crisp, the cloying dehydration, the constant danger that something or someone was around the corner, ready to eat you. It was a far cry from the safety and monotony of the vault you'd grown up in. Usually, you were able to find lots of beauty on the surface, plenty of things to appreciate. But right now everything was just awful and uncomfortable.

Menstruation was such a nightmare topside. The proper products were apparently incredibly difficult to find anymore, leaving you to make the best of things with old torn pieces of clothing and less-than-ideal medical supplies. But these things didn't provide the absorption you'd long been accustomed to, and you kept having accidents the last few days, the result of a heavier-than-average flow. Normally, these things wouldn't bother you, but it was insanely annoying to constantly feel as if you were bleeding through basically the only clothes you had, doubly so when there was no place to clean them or bathe yourself most of the time. Besides, these pants chaffed terribly when they were damp.

Months back, you'd made the choice to ditch the vault suit. It was surreal and sort of sad feeling, packing away what had truly been a symbol of your identity for so long. However, it attracted far too much attention and caused trouble when people assumed they could take advantage of you, so you'd opted to start dressing like a proper Wastelander, boiled leather armor and denim pants. Right now, however, you desperately wished you'd been wearing the suit. The absorbent liner would have saved you some of this embarrassment.

The old ghoul had been telling you some story or another as you mounted a steep hill, your mind tuning in and out in frustration. You were sweaty, cramping, bloated, and bleeding on yourself, and all you wanted was a chance to clean yourself up and sit down for a minute. Eventually, the two of you came across what looked to be the abandoned skeleton of an old repair garage, just barely maintaining its tall stance against the horizon. As the two of you began to pass it by, you paused.

"I need to stop for a bit." you said, frowning at him as he turned his gaze to the position of the sun in the sky and back to you, confusion plain on his face.

"Whassa' matter?" he asked, "You're not usually this pussy about the sun anymore. Been long enough."

He was right, you were usually able to soldier on better than this. Today wasn't one of those days, though.

"I need like ten minutes alone, okay?" you snapped, short of patience. "I just...need it."

Your companion held up his hands in a silent, play-offended gesture of surrender, stepping aside to let you walk into the ramshackle little garage.

"Ten minutes!" he called teasingly behind you, prompting you to roll your eyes despite him not being able to see it.

Dropping your bag against the wall, you quickly toed your boots off so you could shuck your pants to the ground, groaning quietly at the bloody mess between your thighs. Digging some dirty rags out of your bag, you checked the spare canteen you kept undrinkable water in. Almost empty. You wanted to cry.

You could always ask Coop for some of his, since he was prone to drinking from questionable sources. He might even give you some, close as you'd become lately, thanks to a night of whiskey and Jet by the fire that had led to other forms of entertainment.

But you'd rather not have to explain this to him. As you did your best to scrub away the rusty red covering your skin, you wondered if he even remembered that this was something that happened to women. You had no idea what you were going to do with your pants.

Apparently, time had slipped away from you, as he appeared suddenly in the doorway a moment or two later, already speaking to you like he'd been standing there the entire time.

"It's been fifteen minutes, girlie. I'll have you know--" came his halted snark, quickly cut off as the two of you made eye contact, as he took in your nakedness below the waist. You felt a creeping sense of panic, a desire to flee out the broken window to your side. Neither of you said a word, and after a moment, he stepped forward towards you, softly gripping your wrist in his hand and holding it up to examine it. His honeyed eyes flicked back and forth between the soiled rag in your bloodied hand and where you'd been attempting to clean yourself up, briefly moving over to where your pants lay crumpled up on the floor.

"I'm--" you began, wanting to explain that you were fine, but you were quickly and decisively cut off from speaking when he lifted your bloody fingers to his mouth, sucking them between his lips with an obscene sigh. Your jaw fell slack as you watched him lick them clean, feeling like you were having some sort of erotic fever dream you'd wake up from any moment. Your hormones must've been working in tandem with the sun to drive you crazy.

However, it only continued to escalate as he seized you by the wrist, dragging you a few feet forward towards the rickety, grimy couch that leaned against the back wall, shoving you just enough to make you sit right in the center, a stale plume of desert dust filling the air around you as he rucked your hips up against his chest, your calves hooking over his shoulders. One of your flailing, still-socked feet knocked his hat clear off his head, sending it tumbling down to the floor, but he didn't even seem to notice, too preoccupied with running his hands along your inner thighs, smearing through the patches of drying blood there with fascination.

Your whole face burned white-hot, but you continued to watch him closely as his hands converged at your mound, one thumb tracing lightly over your now-swollen slit, just barely grazing your bud and drawing a hiss from between your teeth. However, instead of touching you there again, as you'd hoped he would, both thumbs traced down the line of your labia, parting them softly and spreading you open for his hungry eyes to see.

This new kind of attention made you squirm a bit at its intensity, the movement making your abdominal muscles clench just right to draw a trickle of warmth from between your legs, your face reaching supernova in embarrassment, but before you could pull away, he dove forward, his mouth sealing itself over your cunt and lapping wildly. The feeling was electric and ticklish and sent you clamoring to grab onto anything for leverage, letting out a screech that was half giggle and half moan.

He had done this before, gone down between your legs and licked and tasted and teased you until you couldn't handle it anymore, and always with great enthusiasm (and more than a little smugness, frankly), but never with a hunger like this. His thick tongue traced back and forth along your folds, seeking out every sanguine drop before dipping back down to your entrance, the wriggling muscle slipping inside with ease, drawing out another cry from you.

You were on fire, being teased more than you could handle; his tongue felt amazing, but largely avoided where you really wanted it to be, leaving you pushing and grinding your hips against his face as best as you could in your strange, folded over position. With one proper swivel, you managed to brush your clit against the bony ridge that sat at the top of where his nose would have been, scraping just right and sending you bucking right back at the same angle. The rough way you pushed against him was met by his hands curling under your ass, attempting to yank you even closer to his face as you felt that knot in your gut begin to tighten.

"Oh god, Coop, I'm gonna cum." you gasped, nails digging into his scalp as your thighs pulsed around his head. The older man, typically quite silent for most of the performance, let out a rather loud groan at that, and the sound was enough to push you right into a tense, crying orgasm, your little mewls ringing off the ancient concrete walls. If he were any other man, you'd worry about smothering him between your damp thighs, your scrambling hands pressing into the back of his head.

Fortunately, Cooper Howard wasn't just any man.

He continued to fuck you with his tongue through your climax, dragging it out for what felt like minutes. However, once you finally came down from that euphoric peak, he didn't stop, his tongue continuing to slather across you in full, wide strokes, his fingers moving up to tease at your oversensitive clit.

This, too, he had done before, this beautiful torture of keeping you constantly on the verge of a new orgasm despite still riding the wave of your current one. You both loved and hated it, feeling like every nerve in your body was alive with electricity, but simultaneously on the verge of pain from all the sensation. Presently, you loved it a lot more than you hated it, feeling the tight, cramping muscles in your belly relax just a little with your release. Glimpsing down at him once more, you could see that he'd tugged his hard cock free from its confines, jerking himself enthusiastically.

The ghoul's lips wrapped back around your clit, long, nimble fingers probing your saliva-slicked entrance. Two of them slid inside to the hilt before you even really registered their presence, causing you to hiss at the slight burn of the rad-rough flesh against your sensitive insides. The suction on your bud soothed the burn, allowing you to relax, and soon a third was added alongside the first two, quickly pushing you into another sudden and intense climax, washing over you like a tidal wave as he stretched you. When he eventually pulled his hand away, it was half-covered in red.

You were still trembling hard as he quickly worked his way back down your thighs, swiping up anything he may have missed. The sensation of his tongue running along your plush flesh made you giggle, earnest and breathless, but the sound was immediately cut off with a whine when he suddenly turned and viciously sunk his teeth into the meat of your inner thigh, not hard enough to break the skin, but damn near.

This, he had never done before.

Of course, you knew the man was intimately familiar with sinking his teeth into human flesh, but feeling them against you didn't frighten you as you expected it might, the sensation exhilarating and primal. The searing, pinching pain made you squeal, and one of his ungloved hands jammed up against your lips to silence you, filling your nose with the smell of iron and gunpowder. Come the morning, you'd be sporting a gnarly bruise there. The knowledge sent another hot tremble down your spine.

Unlatching his jaw from your leg, he pulled himself up to his full kneeling height, right even with you, a wild look in his eyes you weren't sure you'd seen before. So often he had the brim of his hat to obscure them, but now they stared, wide and glassy, into your own.

His fingers fisted into the already wild hair at the back of your head, pulling your forward into a passionate, metallic-tasting kiss. You could feel the way your face attempted to stick to his where he'd smeared your blood around your mouth with his hand. Quickly, he began to lean forward over you, pressing you into the mildew covered cushions as he pulled himself on top of you. The dry-rotted frame of the couch groaned loudly in protest at the additional weight, squeaking and sighing out curses as he repositioned your legs along his hips, falling right into place to rub his throbbing prick against you. Another throaty noise left you, strangled and awkward, but you were past being able to be embarrassed right now.

It distracted you just enough when the old cowboy dropped his head into the crook of your neck, his lips dancing along your pulse point, that you didn't tense when he pushed his way inside you, burying himself nearly to the hilt in one push. Both of you let out soft, satisfied groans as you stretched taut around him, clenching hotly already after all the attention he'd given you, his heavy breathing in your ear making every hair on your body stand on end.

For a short moment, he allowed you to adjust to his girth, warm hands pushing your shirt up to expose your breasts to him. His bare hands felt like they were everywhere, swiping affectionately against your face, tugging and pinching at your nipples, eventually settling into your hair, holding your head steady and forcing you to look at him as he began to fuck you. It didn't take long before he had you built right back up, the rub of his pelvic bone against you too good.

"Go on, gimme one more, baby. I know you can." he huffed, his warm breath tickling you just right. His thumb was suddenly strumming against your puffy, sore clit again, and tears brimmed in your eyes as your muscles seized once again, whimpering almost pitifully as you gave him what he wanted.

"Attagirl." he praised, running the blunted edge of his teeth along your throat as your body tugged at him. Your breathing was hard to control, making you see spots as he shifted your calves back over his shoulders, basically folding you in half once more as he pulled himself up higher and began to rut into you in earnest. The blunt head of his cock slammed into your tender cervix like this, making you jump and whine, but your legs only tightened around his shoulders, pulling him closer as he used your body to get himself off.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack, and the entire couch frame collapsed into a plume of dust, even worse than before, making you screech in shock. Cooper, however, seemed to barely notice, his pace not even slowing as he shifted you a few inches away from a busted 2x4 sticking out in your direction, pressing you harder into the cushions that were now trapped beneath you. Nevertheless, he did seem to be making sure you were okay in his own way, his wild eyes and insistent hands checking over every visible inch as he continued to pump between your thighs. When he dropped his mouth to your breasts, you throbbed around him, cooing as he sucked and nipped at your breasts.

"Fuck." he growled at the sensation, his hips slapping against you even harder, but in less coordinated strokes, his head heavily dropping back into the crook of your neck again, his entire weight resting on you now.

As you felt him begin to throb inside you, signaling his own release, you also felt those strong teeth latch onto the sensitive skin where your neck met your shoulder, digging deep into the smooth muscle as you screamed. You could hear your lover groaning loudly as he gave you a few more rough strokes, his teeth keeping firm at your neck as he pulsed every last drop of himself inside you. Beyond the pinching pain repeating itself, you could feel the burn of him sucking hard on the flesh between his teeth, trying to mark you up as visibly as possible. Remarkably, this was enough to push your oversensitive body into one last muted orgasm, leaving you shuddering against his chest.

Once his teeth released you, his strong arms wrapped around your body, carefully flipping you so that you laid across his chest, the leather of his clothing sticking eagerly to your sweaty skin. No one said anything for a few minutes, his fingers dancing along your spine, tracing the outline of the bite on your shoulder and earning a small whimper, which he chuckled at. Things were strangely blissful.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna need another fifteen minutes, boss." you sighed eventually, snuggling your face against the smooth leather of his vest and breathing in the smell of violence and sex.

"You can have ten." he responded, drawing a look from you until the hand that had been kneading away at your ass cheek slipped down further, rough fingers teasing at your abused entrance once more, pushing what was leaking out of you back inside.

"Oh? And what happens then?" you asked, trying hard to keep your hips still against his sinful hand and failing.

"Then we're going again."

#men who jerk off when they eat pussy go to heaven #cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv show #fallout prime #submission

370 notes · View notes