#tec x reader

[sugarcubeindulgent]

a lovely night | bill dickey x f!reader

synopsis. it's prom night. you've been stood up and of all your friends to be sent to check-up on you, they send bill. yeah, maybe you both hate each other, but it is a lovely night.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ contents. established relationship. fluff. misogynistic language. comfort. homophobic language. swearing.

You’re unsure if anything has ever been more humiliating. Pissing your pants on an elementary field trip to the zoo? Nope. Splitting down the ass of your pants on the first day of freshman year by eating shit in the cafeteria? Not even close. Getting caught watching porn when Pete thought it’d be funny to send a baiting link? No. No, you’ve never felt more humiliated than now. Sitting on the curb outside of the school’s entrance with tears refusing to stop rolling down your flushed and warm cheeks.

The night air is cool and breezy against your skin exposed in the dress your mom had spent three months making all for your date to have been part of some long, cruel prank. Your sash is discarded beside you with your earrings and necklace. Sniffling and wiping at your cheeks, you wonder if you should call your dad or walk home.

Hearing footsteps behind you, you press yourself harder into the left side of the railing while wiping your cheeks and underneath your smudged lash line. “Oh God you’re crying…”,groans a voice that’s the very last you want to hear. Still, it’s a reflex to turn and glare hotly at Bill who looks stupid with his chestnut hair slicked back and his suit a bit too big for his frame. He looks at you through his glasses, his hands tuck into his slacks and he seems to shift in discomfort once he looks at your face. He looks away.

“Fuck, I don’t wanna hear any of it, Bill. Save the mocking and jokes for tomorrow.”,you sigh in exasperation while looking away from him.

Unfortunately, his footsteps continue to grow closer. “I don’t wanna be out here either but I pulled the short straw to deal with your girly feelings.”,scoffs Bill. You grunt in frustration and drag a hand down your face with a sharp exhale. He’s such an asshole, you can’t help thinking as he sits down a hand’s length away from you.

You shake your head, sniffling and looking straight ahead with more annoyance and anger in you than hurt and humiliation now. A cool breeze dances along Bill and then reaches you, your eyebrows twitch noticing the cologne you noticed earlier on him on the car ride over. It’s cheap but it feels fitting for him, a bit pleasant after you get used to it. Wetting your lips you turn to Bill when he expels a deep and annoyed sigh.

“I mean we tried to warn you.”

Quickly, you shake your head. “My fucking God…”,you groan while dropping your face into your hands while your elbows press into your thighs.

“What?”,Bill complains incredulously. He shakes his head and you drop your hands, glaring at him with a hot scowl while his eyes finally meet you again. “We tried to tell you that football ape was just looking for an easy girl to fuck with and you didn’t believe us. You let your stupid woman's brain convince you he was a nice guy.” His expression is twisted in annoyance and irritation, looking at you as if you’re stupid but he also seems to be looking at you in a way you’re not familiar with from his eyes.

Regardless, your anger flares and you toss up your hands. “Well I’m sorry I wanted to believe for once that I could have one could high school experience that didn’t involve you guys.”,you snap at him, your voice dripping in sarcasm. Then you scoff and shake your head while wiping at your cheeks. Humiliation and hurt burns suddenly, it feels all the worse knowing the guys will probably never let you live this down. “Do you really have to be a fucking–a f-fucking asshole right now? Can you not save it?” You nearly fling yourself down the rest of the stairs when your voice cracks and your eyes start to sting again. Quickly, you turn away and wave him away. “Just fucking go away.”

For a long moment, Bill is shockingly silent beside you. He doesn’t say a word and you can only hear the wind rustling the trees around and whistling through the warm, night air. You’re hoping he’s just going to leave, that for once in his damn life he won’t be a miserable sack of shit that seems to love arguing with you and fighting with you. And for a hopeful moment, you think he will give you some mercy. But then he clears his throat and snorts, your fists ball up on your lap.

“We all agreed he’s probably just a faggot anyway…”,he suddenly murmurs.

You blink softly and turn to look at him. Bill’s looking down at his nails, they’re practically chewed down to the skin – his knuckles scarred and a bit bruised from the many fits of rage he experiences. “What?”,you ask, clearing your throat after realizing you sound way too pathetic. His eyebrows furrow and he shrugs with a shake of his head.

“I mean – y’know.” You look along his acne-scarred face and he shrugs again while looking up at the starry and clear night, the full moon bathes everything in a white glow. “You actually got all dressed up. You look like an actual girl for once and–and you smell nice and…I don’t know maybe he’s just some fag for standing you up.” Bill’s face is red. You’re unable to help but notice the way his cheeks are a hot red, so red that it’s spread to the tips of his ears. “So…stop being such a girl and crying about someone probably getting fucked by his teammates.”

You’re unsure what to say for a few moments. He’s comforting you. Complimenting you. You can only ever remember him being nice to you, you being nice to him during your tournaments or games whenever you’d carry the team. Only when it benefitted him. But he’s being nice to you, complimenting and comforting you right now. In his own way, but it still has you a bit surprised and taken off guard. Swallowing hard, you suddenly notice something red staining his button-up and you shift the topic just a bit.

“Why is your shirt stained?”,you ask a bit softer than you mean to.

Bill looks from you and down to his shirt, he rolls his eyes. “Lardo shoved me into Stacey Kupsbrick. That bimbo bitch threw her drink at me.”

A laugh leaves your lips and you cover your smile. Bill glares at you and you shake your head while you put up your other hand in defense. “Hey, at least you got to feel her up at prom like you always talked about.”,you remark, dropping your hands to hold your knees while you smile at Bill in amusement. His glare lightens, rolling his eyes again with a smile and nodding.

“Pete said that too.”,he laughs a bit.

Your eyes flicker away from him and your thumbs gently stroke the satin fabric of your prom dress, sniffling, you wet your lips that taste like watermelon. Something odd tingles along your chest and stirs in your stomach as a silence that isn’t awkward or tense with anger settles between you and Bill. You’re unsure if you should say something but you don’t even know what you would say. It doesn’t even feel like Bill’s next to you. Maybe his body was snatched by some alien who knows how to not be an asshole.

“You do look nice tonight. Pretty but not in a slut way.” Your eyes snap to Bill, he’s looking down and wiping his hands on his slacks. “Even if you’re an ugly crier.” He’s still red in the cheeks and tips of his ears.

You want to be mean, to ask him if he’s simply building up to be an asshole or to insult him. But you’re exhausted from crying and you still feel humiliated and embarrassed. Enough that your body disgustingly warms beneath Bill’s backhanded compliment. You clean under your lower lash line and then at the corners of your eyes. Then you nod and you look away, up at the lovely night.

“You smell nice.”,you compliment him, looking down as your hands feel oddly sweaty. You feel Bill’s eyes peek at you from the corner of his eyes and you shrug loosely. “Not like your dandruff shampoo and sweat.”

Bill clears his throat. “Yeah uhm…my mom got me a cologne for tonight.”,he replies. The air feels awkward now. Not in a bad way, it just feels foreign to be nice to each other. You wonder if you should just tell him to leave now. But he speaks first. “Are you gonna come back inside?” Your eyes flicker to him, lashes still wet with tears and eyes still glassy. Bill meets your eyes and he shrugs. “I mean you did make us come to this woman’s bullshit. If you leave you’ll owe us the ticket prices.”

A frown spreads on your lips. “That’s not fair! Jerry wanted to come.”

“Yeah and he’s practically a woman so?”,scoffs Bill. Then he stands and dusts himself off.

Glaring up at him, the idea of going back inside is nauseating. But oddly enough…you do feel better. Warmer and less humiliated. You look up at Bill whose hands slip into the pockets of his slacks. Contemplating for a moment, you sigh in frustration and grab your jewelry and sash. “You’re such a dick.”,you mutter. He mocks you in a girlish voice while you shove your sash into his hands and you first put your earrings on. Placing the chain around your neck, your eyebrows furrow as you try to do the clasp.

“Can you hurry up?”,complains Bill impatiently.

“I’m trying, asshole. The clasp is tiny.”,you snap.

A frustrated sigh leaves his lips and he tosses your sash over his shoulder before he walks over. “Turn around. God what kind of girl can’t put a fucking necklace on?”,he harshly spits, smacking away your hands.

Your irritation spreads to your features. “You barely have any nails left how are–fuck!” You hiss in annoyance when he smacks you upside the head. “God…asshole…”,you mumble.

Bill’s fingers work at the clasp and you’re unable to stop feeling weirder. You can feel his fingers brushing and touching the nape of your neck, you blink and look down at the ground while keeping your hairstyle away.

Finally, he pulls away and you release a breath you were holding. Turning around, you notice he’s shifting uncomfortably before tugging your sash and tossing it at you. “Hurry up or I’ll start making jokes about you being stood up.”,he says quickly, turning away and walking towards the school’s entrance with a stiff frame and scowl painted red.

You swallow a bit of that weird feeling, pulling on your sash and wiping your cheeks and cleaning your eyes before you follow where Bill disappears through the doors.

What a weird night.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

You mentioned ghoul scent markings-- can you elaborate on that? Explain it and dump any other thoughts you have about it?

So, I feel like ghoulification would heighten all of the senses (*within the confines of what tissues can remain intact over long spans of time, like centuries; we see older ghouls, especially, with things like cataracts, etc. that would would obviously impact your perception), but the sense of smell especially. Smell is widely considered to be the "weakest" of the human senses, but if you were constantly regenerating the smell receptors that are physically closest to your brain, along with having basically one massive nostril, I'd think you'd at least smell SOMEWHAT more effectively.

I've seen people assume that, as ghouls eventually lose their noses to decay, they have no sense of smell, and (absolutely no disrespect or anything) I find that sort of funny. The olfactory sense ultimately originates in the brain, like any other sense, and the smell receptors that pick up on odors are not only found in the cartilaginous parts of the nose AKA the part that would rot off.

Scent memory is also one of the strongest kinds of memory, as the olfactory bulb that processes smells is located very close to the amygdala and the hippocampus, the memory centers of your brain. For this reason, I think that many ghouls, but particularly ferals, would be incredibly sensitive to smells, even if their particular "nose" is weak from decay. I'd imagine that ferals, as they slip further and further into the sort of aggressive, rotting dementia state we see them in, would still be able to connect with some human memories through smells. I think this may be one of the things that draws them to people so easily, even when you're trying to sneak past them.

Imagine moldering away for years and years, rational and conscious thought basically lost to you, and then, for just a breath, you smell a long-lost loved one's perfume, a favorite food you haven't tasted in decades, a fresh rain after a long, long dry spell. Just for a moment...you can remember.

All that to say that I think smell would be a very big deal for ghouls. Especially the smell of people they care about. One day, the memory of that smell may be quite literally all they have left.

I'm not sure most of them would be conscious of the fact that it's scent marking, but it wouldn't be uncommon to find ghoul lovers (ghouls who are lovers AND those who love ghouls) swapping clothing, reveling in their partner's smell enveloping them and vice versa. Taking their lover around other ghouls and knowing that the fact that the others can smell them all over you means they know you're theirs. Ghouls smelling another ghoul on you and knowing all your business without you even having to say anything.

(Plus...it's just a fun excuse to not have to pull out, you know?)

[kimulus0check]

I need the butch tec so bad like it’s bad

——

•Like the butch tec telling a fem to come down to one of their meetings one night and then when she gets down in Dickeys basement they ravage herrr.

• Pete (Petra) would be mean and degrade you. Spanking you to hear you welp then call you a needy girl. Her strap game would be phenomenal. Shes unforgiving with her thrusts and her hands rough, she bites and leaves hickeys and licks away any blood the leaves your flesh. She sweaty but keeps fucking you with constant plapping. Fucking you like an animal.

•Bill (Beth) would do her upmost to dominate you. Her voice loud and bossy while she manhandles you and fingers you with her thumb circling your clit. Pinning your hands on your head as she mounts you with her strap. Her thrust slow but hard when meeting your pussy. With Beth you can try to dominate her when you sense she’s getting exhausted with her faltering thrusts you can pounce back at her and finger her. You two would fight it out for your orgasms cause she thinks everything is a competition.

• Josh (Jane) and Jerry (Jill) would tag team you. Jane would eat you out with ferver as Jill would play with your breasts and shower you with praising words. Jane can eat pussy like a starved woman. She would slip two fingers in while tongue fucking your clit.

Like I need them to violate me so baaad

[fandomnerd9602]

Can you do a male lone wanderer x Lucy MacLean where he’s patching up Lucy due to his father giving him medical training

Lucy tries to put her suit back on…

Lucy: thank you for patching me up

Y/N: it’s nothing. Y-you have a nice abdominal muscle grouping.

Lucy blushes and bites her lip…

She begins unzipping it…

Y/N: what’s wrong?

Lucy: I haven’t thanked the doc personally yet.

She pushes Y/N to the bed and straddles them…

[olsenmyolsen]

Fallout

master list

dark master list

Fallout/Marvel AU (Gender Neutral Reader X Wanda Maximoff)

Summary: You and your wife, Wanda Maximoff, are finally living your dream life in WestView. It was perfect until the bombs fell.

Word Count: 1.3K

Content: Fallout TV Show and Video Game references. Not a happy ending. I wrote this in like one hour.

Yakety Yak played from the tiny radio resting on the end table next to the couch as Wanda Maximoff, dressed in a red A-line skirt and Oxford shirt, reading through a lifestyle magazine her neighbor Agnes had lent her.

"Wow, is the death rate of single men really that high?" Wanda quietly questioned to herself before you came in through the front door. Sweating and out of breath.

"Gosh, it's a scorcher out there!" You said as you huffed and puffed in the middle of the entryway to the house. Wanda smiled at your voice and rose. "Let me grab you some water, dear." You smiled as she whizzed by you. Her perfume and infectious personality making you feel hotter all over.

"Honey?" Wanda pulled you from your thoughts as she handed you a tall glass of water. You accepted it and chugged the whole thing before handing it back to Wanda, who only took a single kiss as a form of payment.

"So I take it the lawn is done?" Wanda asked as she came back from the kitchen. You nodded. "It's perfect. Way better than Norm's." You smiled with a goofy grin while Wanda shook her head and chuckled at your stupid rivalry. "I'm sure it is." Wanda stepped behind you and started to push you to the back room. Where your bedroom was. "Now, why don't you take a shower so that way when I kiss you again, I'm not worried about getting a grass stain!"

Wanda was proud of her joke and let the inviable audience loudly laugh at that one. You playfully rolled your eyes and accepted it, but not before reaching out and grabbing your wife's hand.

"You know a shower is only fun if I have help?" You made your eyebrows bounce. Wanda smirked. "Really? You managed yesterday without help, so I think you'll be just fine." She scrunched her nose and began moving you once again. You went to reply, but the doorbell interrupted you. "Shower!" Wanda pointed back with a smile and laughed at your pouty face. But yet you retreated and went to take a shower as Wanda answered the door to a man dressed like a salesperson.

"Hello is this the Maximoff residents?" Wanda clasped her hands over themselves in front of her. "Yes, it is." The man was holding a clipboard and looked at it as he began marking some stuff off. "Okay, great! And there are two of you, correct?" Wanda nodded as she looked over the man.

Who was he?

"I'm sorry, but who are you? Who are you with?" Wanda asked as the man lifted his eyes to her with a smile. "Oh, I'm sorry. Please forgive me." He stuck his hand out. Wanda took it gingerly. "My name is Steve Rogers and I'm here with an opportunity for the future!"

The man was a mix of nervousness and overzealous.

"The future?" Wanda questioned as she looked the man over. Steve cleared his throat before speaking up. "Why yes, Ma'am. You see, Vault-Tec is the foremost builder of state-of-the-art underground Fallout shelters."

Wanda tilted her head with her eyebrows scrunched. She had heard of Vault-Tec, but why was a salesperson at her door? "Vaults?"

Like safes? Wanda wondered.

Steve nodded. "Yes Vaults! Luxury accommodations for you and..." He looked down at his clipboard. "Y/n Maximoff to wait out the horrors of nuclear devastation." Wanda's eyes went wide. "I'm sorry!?"

Steve kept going.

"If you haven't noticed, Ma'am, excuse my language, but this country has gone to heck in a handbasket. Now more than ever, people need to be prepared. The big kaboom is inevitable. Sooner than you may think. If you catch my drift." He said the last part softer and quieter. But he said it with a smile.

Wanda took a step back.

Steve noticed. "Now, now, I know you're a busy woman, so I won't take too much more of your precious remaining time. I'm here to tell you that you and your partner have been selected and pre-approved for our own local Vault. Vault 89!"

Wanda seemed a little surprised but nodded and smiled. She didn't like the feeling that was turning in her.

"Wow, well, thank you!" Wanda politely said while Steve nodded and tipped his hat to Wanda. "Thank you for trusting Vault-Tec with your future!" He turned on his heels and walked with a purpose off the front porch. Wanda watched as the man admired the lawn before hopping into his car.

As Wanda locked the front door, you were leaving the main bedroom. All dressed and clean. "Who was it?" You asked, startling your wife. You looked at her wide-eyed as she shrieked and composed herself before laughing. "Sorry." She said before fast walking to you and wrapping her arms around your body. Your clean smell invading her nose, making her feel better.

"No need to apologize." You replied as you held Wanda. The two of you softly swaying in the middle of the living room. "Are you going to tell me who it was, or do I have to guess?" You kissed the top of Wanda's head. "It was Vault-Tec." She said with her Sokovian accent slipping after she turned her head to face you.

"Vault-Tec? The company Cooper Howard promotes?" Wanda nods to your confused face. "Promoted. But yes. We've been selected for a Vault. Vault 89." Wanda said as she was reading your eyes. "Now, why in the hell were we selected?" You questioned, only to earn a shrug from Wanda. "Maybe only the house with the best lawn gets in," Wanda said as she couldn't hide her bright smile.

"Oh, you think you're funny?" You asked, looking into your wifes green eyes. She nodded. "I saw him admiring all your hard work before he left." She squeezed and poked your arms as she said it.

You laughed and untangled yourself from Wanda as you brought the two of you to the couch. "Well, I guess that means the Vault will be free of Norm." Wanda threw her head back and slapped your arm at your comment. "Honey!"

You chuckled before flipping on the TV. A weatherman was complaining about how hot the rest of the summer would be for WestView before a producers ran on screen and the broadcast suddenly cut. A singular tone and a screen that read Please Stand By followed.

Wanda's smile faded fast, as did yours.

It can't be.

"No, no, no," Wanda whispered as her voice broke and quivered. You immediately rose and went to the window. You didn't see anything through the shudders until it was all white.

What followed was smoke and fire.

The glass broke and sent debris flying above you as you protected Wanda.

"But this is our home!" Wanda screamed as you tried lifting her.

It was real. It was happening. Fallout was coming.

Wanda thrashed about in your arms as she didn't want to leave the house you and her worked so hard for. She has the deed that you bought hanging above her bedside table. Pictures of family scattered around the house. Your music collection and hidden snacks would be forgotten to time. You didn't want to leave either. But you needed to survive. You couldn't do this without Wanda.

"Wanda, please let's go!" You yelled as the noise outside was growing louder and more chaotic. But only one thought processes through your wifes head as Wanda escaped from your hold and runs into the bedroom. Returning out of it moments later with one thing in her hand.

With tears running down her face, she opens your hand and placed it down. "Wanda..." You flip the plastic stick over before the air left your throat. "You're..." Wanda nodded and cried harder.

She was pregnant.

Tears fell onto the carpet below your feet as you brought yourself closer and kissed Wanda.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

You did everything you could to get Wanda to the Vault that day. Through crowds of panicked people. Through the incompetent security of Vault-Tec. Through the white flash of another bomb being dropped.

The two of you made it.

But that same day was the last time you saw Wanda before she was separated from you at the Vault checkpoint.

You don't remember anything after that until today.

Time passed. She's not here anymore.

So, as the doors open and the sun blinds as you stand dressed in blue and yellow, you're prepared to find Wanda and your children. Whatever it takes.

You're prepared for Fallout.

dividers by @/benkeibear

[lady-ashfade]

Fallout Masterlist

Requests for this fandom: closed

Angst: Red

Fluff: Pink

Both: Orange

Comfort: purple

A little bit of everything or nothing: green

Yandere: Red & Green

Fallout 4

<nothing yet>

Fallout show

<nothing yet>

Apocalypse world

<nothing yet>

[tinywitchgoblin]

So, I saw my brother made a ship request for The Bad Batch (this is my first time doing one, so I'm a bit nervous), and I decided to do one, too. So, I'm 5'6 with blue eyes and blonde hair in a ponytail. I love reading, and making art and writing. I love fantasy and science-fiction stuff. I love having shirts that the sleeves go over my fingers, and I'm autistic. I hyperfixate ALOT (especially with Star Wars, specifically The Bad Batch) and I have three cats. Can't wait to see the results! ^^

(also requested SFW, and specified cisgender straight female)

I'm glad to be your first ship request facilitator (if that's what it is... idk). Also, tell your cats I say hi!

I ship you with...

Tech!

Tech is a very logic-oriented person. His mind is very organized, and does very well with structure. On the other hand, art is something he's never really understood, tried or, frankly, even liked. That changed when he met you. When he saw not only your art, but the way you interact with it, he became mesmerized. He wanted to know all about your creative process, and asks how he can be helpful. Tech loves getting you new supplies and doing research on which brands/types of supplies work best with your art styles. When you make a piece of art inspired by him, Tech doesn't have much of an outward reaction, but inside, he's bursting with emotion. He doesn't really understand what emotions he's feeling, but he is beyond grateful that you love him so much to put your time and energy into making something about him.

When growing up on Kamino, Tech and his brothers didn't have access to stories, especially not fantasy stories, so he was fascinated when you introduced him to the fantasy genre. It's well known that Tech ingests information about as well as Wrecker ingests food, so when you hand him one of your favorite fantasy novels, he becomes engrossed in it. Sometimes when he's reading, you'll hear him mutter to himself about what he thinks the characters' thought processes are in order to predict what they might do next, and it can be quite entertaining to listen to.

When Tech finds out you like to hyperfixate on The Bad Batch, he's initially a bit confused, partly because he had no idea that their stories were told here. He asks to watch the series, which you happily pull up. The two of you end up binge-watching the series in less than a week, and you love every second of it. Tech is a bit miffed that the animators don't accurately portray how he and his brothers look, but he keeps his remarks to a minimum while the show is actually playing. However, Tech does like to provide commentary about how certain events actually played out, as well as discussing his own thought processes from while he was in the moment. Ultimately, he's happy that you wanted to share one of your favorite fixations with him, because to him, sharing in one's obsessions is one of the best love languages.

-

Thanks for reading! If you want a ship request like this one, drop it in my ask box, and don't forget to reblog <3 it may take a little bit, but I'll get to it eventually!

Also, I haven't seen anything about #unwhitewashtbb recently, but on my page we support Temuera Morrison-accurate clone protrayals

[heroicgartist]

Vault Tec Rep x Reader/General Vault Tec Rep ramblings

Being a (secret for now) oc/reader x Vault Tec Rep fanfic writer is so hardddddddddddddddddd because I really do not know how much to balance both his nice pre-war attitudes and the amount of honest crassness that he developed for over 200 years. But so interesting to navigate!

To me, I like seeing his post-war ghoul self as being more... honest and passionate. Also having a more grounded attitude from having to adapt to being a Goodneighbor ghoul for the past many years. Cynical but speaks from his heart! He's a genuine good guy that wants to work hard for the people/person he wants to carve a future with. And to me, would define a person's future from someone giving him his future.

But his pre-war self... I kinda see him as pretty egotistical and honestly maybe... advantageous with how he navigated his career XD

Idk, but pre-war Vault Tec Rep seems like the type that would use any good PR possible in order for him to good to Vault Tec like taking any opportunity to get his face in a camera whenever he's doing photos with kids and families, carrying people's babies for the camera kinda guy. And having ulterior motives when it comes to the way he addresses people, not in a harmful way but like... he's not that genuine of a person considering his whole lifestyle is for his job.

But like, that still would not discredit the feelings people would feel from his somewhat anxiety filled charming nice interactions. I imagine the reader being his co-worker assistant in the past and having to bear David (Death Shroud mention) pushing you to do your best.

While the reader may feel tired or even down in the dumps, David would use his charisma skills to his and yours advantage to encourage you to always do your best for the greater future!

Especially when he says that you are special and are meant to be greatness for the future if the reader has insecurities of their place in Vault Tec (or even the world). Because that’s advice that he tells to himself to always keep him going. That he himself is special and is meant to be greatness.

I feel like someone like Vault Tec Rep has lots of potential as a character if this is how flawed he is as a human being before. The concept of David being a ingenuinely and flawed individual like the very company he worked for is thematically powerful. Because the people that were encouraged by his seemingly chipper demeanor were genuinely affected by him, just like Vault Tec does towards others.

The difference of course is that Rep is a genuinely good person even if he doesn’t feel like he is/was. But now, he doesn’t have to pretend, especially not for the people he loves.

[poeticasoull]

Taekook Fanfiction | Court of Nightmares.

Summary: You've ever done something in a heat of the moment? Something that you will forever regret?

Jungkook studies in one of the most prestigious universities in South Korea with the help of a scholarship he got in Computer science. He is happy with how things have turned out for him and has great hopes for a bright future.

But everything crumbles down when he is taken by the biggest crime group in Japan because of a single damn debt his sister made.

Upon losing lots of money and not being able to pay her debt, she makes a deal with the ruthless and cruel boss of the group named Vante. What happens next?

Only God knows. Genres: BTS, Action, Drama, Thriller, Mafia.

Disclaimer: Drug usage, inappropriate language, sexual themes and explicit scenes of violence. You have been warned.

Additional disclaimer: Their appearances and their names are only included in this. Everything else is completely fictional and it's a fruit of my imagination. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all.

* * *

CHAPTER OO:

My hands were shaking as if I was holding the deadliest weapon known to human kind. I could feel my head spinning and heart racing at a rapid pace. Pace I never thought my body would adjust to so fast even after years of intense football practices back at school.

My chest was raising at an alarming rate, my heart was thumping so fast I knew at some point it'd fly straight out of my ribcage.

Her words echoed in my mind over and over again like a broken record. I couldn't believe it.

I was staring at her, the person I've grown up with, the person I thought was my guardian angel after our parents tragic death, the person I have always trusted and leaned on. She was the only one that has remained in my life after everything that happened. But right there, deep in my mind I remembered how my mom always used to tell me not to trust anyone. Even the closest people could stab you in the back - and unfortunately, she was painfully right. Here I was, staring at my sister as we both of us were sinking in uncomfortable silence.

I felt bitter. 

I felt betrayed. 

 I wanted to shout at Suha, I wanted to blame her, curse her and say things I'd regret afterwards as the anger was getting the worst out in me. I was never a person to get angry that easily. Never.  How could she? How could she betray me like that? My own blood. 

 I felt my throat go dry and I couldn't say a word at this point. Suha was standing there, the mascara she wore was smudged under her eyes from all the crying and her head bowed down in pure shame. She knew she was guilty, she knew what she fucking did and yet she was the one who got out of this situation without a scratch. I ran my slim fingers through my damp hair, turning around with my back facing her. I reached over, moving the red curtain over as I stole a short glance through the window, noticing the black shiny jeep with tinted windows parked in front of the complex and the two men dressed in black suits.

 They were leaning on that car with guns hanging off their belts, looking all scary and intimidating. They were waiting. And I sure as hell knew that they wouldn't leave until they got what they were ordered to take. 

 "How could you do this to me... " I trailed off quietly before the anger got the best out of me. 

"I can't fucking believe it! " I shouted, not being able to hold off the pure animalistic rage that has been building up within my chest. 

Before I knew it, my body turned quickly toward my sister and I grabbed firmly her elbow, fingertips sinking in her skin harshly. I was seeing red. 

 "I am sorry. " she whispered weakly, her hair was a mess and I could visibly see the pain and regret within her eyes. She didn't squirm away from my brutish hold. Probably she knew she deserved it. 

 "Sorry isn't good enough! Sorry won't fix the shit you got me involved into, Suha!" I yelled and that made her flinch again. Honestly, I didn't care if I scared her or if I made her cry harder, I was pissed off. 

I had all the damn rights to be. Never had I imagined that I'd go through something like this. I thought that this was happening only in movies. 

 "How much..." I whispered after a few more minutes of me watching her weep. She sniffled quietly and slowly tried shake herself off my hold.

 "How much!" I yelled again, my voice raspy. I felt my nostrils flaring. 

 "Eighty grand." her voice was a whisper. That made her take a step backward, her frame was shaking uncontrollably. 

"You sold me. . . "I started quietly before my voice grew louder, "for eighty fucking grand!" New set of tears streamed down her red cheeks.  "T-they threatened to kill me, Kookie. I c-couldn't... " she stammered her words. "T-they promised that they w-won't harm you.. " 

 "I will be a fucking slave to those gorillas for life! I won't fucking live like this and you know it! They won't harm me? You serious? These men never tell the truth! They lie and murder for their own convenience." I whispered as if I was telling this to myself rather than to her. I though that today I'd do my physics lecture, go play some football with my friends and then meet up with my girlfriend. This day started normally, dammit! 

 "I will fix this, I promise! I will find the money and I will get you back. Please, don't cause any trouble. "

"You should've thought about that earlier!" I roared; my voice was loud enough to cause some of the neighbors to peek their heads through the windows to see what was happening. Then there was a silence. Suha kept sobbing helplessly. Short puffs of air came out from my lips. Soon enough two men burst through the door, guns pointed at me and my sister. I noticed that those tall bulky gorillas were the same damn men who were waiting by that shiny car downstairs.

 I froze immediately, my anger conversed into fear as I lifted my hands in surrender slowly. These men didn't react at all, they'd approach me and one of them spoke something in Japanese I didn't understood while the other one let out a low disgusting chuckle.

The panic slowly crept up in my heart. I turned to look at Suha who had stopped crying but her face remained twisted in pure horror. She was afraid of weapons but definitely not from the damn casino she went almost every night. She had gambled every single coin we had. 

Then I turned to look at those men. Their faces were unreadable yet covered in many battle scars that made their expressions more intimidating. If they reacted at all, of course.

I noticed how they held their weapons so damn confidently pointed directly at my head. It was a warning. They wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. I didn't see myself jumping out of that window. It was two stories high and besides, I'd be dead before I even got to do that. For the first time in my life felt vulnerable and helpless. 

 "Times up, kiddo. Either move or I put a bullet in your head." one of the men grunted in annoyance. Fuck. I was slowly starting to realize the seriousness in this situation. Before my mind could react on whatever was happening, my body did it first and slowly, my legs dragged toward the door with my hands still raised in surrender. I didn't even turn to look back second time, I could hear her faint sobs and sniffling in the distance. 

The minute I walked out, I gasped when they tied my hands firmly and put a black cloth on my head. I tried to struggle, but one of them let out a low growl of a warning and I froze. 

Before I knew it, I was forcefully pushed on a leather surface, guessing it was the back seat of that jeep parked downstairs. Silence for a minute before the door got slammed shut and that alone made me jump a little. 

I started panting heavily in pure panic. Here I was, sitting at the back seat of a car with two dangerous men. What was going to happen to me from now on? I knew that the moment I stepped out of that building, everything has already changed for me.

I heard that those men were ruthless criminals. 

And I already had a taste of how ruthless they were at a dark alley a few weeks ago as I got ambushed and beaten up.  Of course, it was just a warning from whoever was in charge of these men to my foolish sister.  I had managed to do my research on internet a few nights after that event occurred, informing myself at the reason of their current whereabouts. 

They were the Yakuza clan called "Black Tigers" which came from Japan to Korea and settled in back in the 70's. Perhaps I'd find my death wherever they were going to take me? Those people were famous for gauging their enemies eyes out and cut their hands before burying them in tons and tons of cement ten feet underground.

As soon as I heard the low purring of the engine, I realized I couldn't run away. I had ruined every damn chance I had.

 So I had no where to run. 

 God help me. 

[0funkyducky0]

𐐪𐑂 Tech 𐐪𐑂

𐐪𐑂 Smut 💕 - 𐐪𐑂 Fluff 💝

[wordywarriorwrites]

First, it was all...

And then, it was all...

And I'm just like...

Short Days, Long Nights: 11

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, pregnancy symptoms, gun violence

a/n: An ENDLESS thank you to @the-ginger-hedge-witch for having my back on gun lingo (me: American Citizenship=REVOKED) and for everything else. You're the best. ❤

Series Masterlist

--

“Are you just letting me win because I’m pregnant?”

His eyes lift to your face, unimpressed.  “That’s not a thing.”

“Sure it is,” you reply. “Grateful for carrying your child, you’ve taken pity on me and now you’re letting me win.”

He starts a low chuckle halfway through your explanation, and you grin at him as you slide a piece of wood from the middle of the tower, resting it on the top. You on the couch and him on the floor, your hands rest lightly on the small but hard swell of your stomach as you watch him choose his piece. 

“It always scares the shit out of me when it falls.” He says the words quietly, as if the volume of his voice alone could knock the tower over. Successfully sliding a piece from the bottom, he rests it on the top next to yours. 

The baby kicks, a sudden, sharp movement that has your hand automatically soothing the skin there and his eyes flash up from the table, his brow knit with concern. 

“You good?”

“Yea, I’m good. Just kicking again.”

He hums, watching you study the remaining pieces left. 

Near the end, this is the fourth time in a row you’ve played this game and your back twinges a little when you lean forward. Using the tip of your finger, you nudge several pieces to get a feel for how loose they are. 

“That’s cheating,” he protests. 

“It is not.”

“It is. I told you that already. You just gotta pick one –”

“And I told you,” you tease, “that everyone plays it this way. You test the pieces and –”

“You’re not testin’ anything,”  he insists, attempting to talk over you. “You’re compromising the structural integrity of the tower -“

“What?” you laugh. “What is this, another episode of Construction Corner with Joel Miller?”

He shakes his head with the curl of a smile, his hand reaching out to knock yours away and laughing again, you dodge it. His hand collides with the tower instead, knocking it over on the table between you, the pieces scattering everywhere. 

“Joel!” you scold him, but he isn’t listening. Done with the game, he gets on all fours with a slight grunt, crawling around the perimeter of the table.

“M’fuckin’ knees,” he says under his breath, and you giggle, watching him come closer. 

Pushing the table aside to get to you, he stops in front of your knees, and you automatically open your legs so he can fit his body between them, his large hands resting warm on the top of your thighs. 

“You lost,” he says lowly, grinning when you break into open laughter before feigning outrage. 

“Hang on, no I didn’t! You sabotaged me!”

“I would never,” he says with mock earnestness. “The mother of my own child? You think I would do that to you, honey?”

“You just did!”

You slide back to make room for him when he starts to crawl up to join you on the couch, reclining as your limbs shuffle together as he stretches out. He’s careful to rest himself on the side of you; one elbow propping him up while his other hand drifts down to the hem of your shirt. He plays with the worn fabric, lifting it slightly until he can see a peek of taut skin and then he’s smoothing it down, his hand lingering in place.  

His pinky brushes along the waistband of your sweatpants, your thighs shifting to press together.  

His eyes flick up to your face for a moment. “You need somethin’, honey?” he asks nonchalantly, his gaze back on his hand. 

“You know I do.”

It’s been distracting, your need. Insatiable, now that you’re not sick anymore and you aren’t sure if it’s the flush of hormones swirling through your system, but you’re always so wet. So wet, and empty. A fact that he’s only too willing to take advantage of. 

This morning, in your kneel by the bed as he eased himself into your mouth. 

Last night, when you were blinded by the strength of your release as you came from his tongue alone. 

The pleasure soaked haze of days before: a constant, needy ache blooming in your core, an almost desperate need for him, in whatever way he can give himself to you. 

He hums low at your response, a rumble that drags out of his chest. The sound washes over you, your nipples tightening. 

“Already want more, huh,” he asks, the tips of his fingers teasing beneath the band of your pants. “This mornin’ wasn’t enough?”

Planting your foot on the cushion, you push your hips upwards with a soft whine, and he chuckles. 

“My girl is needy today.”

“Seems like every day,” you answer him, turning your face to press a kiss to his throat. You push the collar of his shirt to the side, tugging it down for more access to his firm skin, and finding it, you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and kiss him again, this time with an open mouth. His skin tastes like salt and sweat and him, and you moan lightly against the tan expanse, dragging your tongue over it. 

His hand gently presses on your hip bone, keeping you on your back when you try to roll onto your side and you respond by wrapping your hand around the nape of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. 

“Please,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his mustache before you kiss him. 

He wordlessly grants you your wish, his mouth opening yours as his hand slips underneath your cotton underwear, and when he cups your damp heat with a firm squeeze, he swallows the moan you let out into his mouth. 

His fingers push through the soft hair that covers your cunt, brushing along the hollow dip of your entrance and gently parting you, he lets out his own groan at the wetness that greets him. 

“I just fucked this pussy a couple of hours ago,” he says, his middle finger dipping inside you before sliding up to your sensitive clit. The pressure makes your hips jump towards his touch, and he smiles. “She already need me that bad again?”

You nod, your hand reaching down to join his. Threading your fingers together, you guide him where you need him most and he pulls back to watch your face as he sinks two fingers in down to the knuckle, an audible wet sound barely heard in the softly lit living room. His thumb finds your clit, circling it with practiced, sure strokes. 

Maddeningly precise, firm circles, ones that stoke the fire building in your belly until the soft sounds you’re making turn into shameless moans, and your hips rock against the full pump of his fingers.

He curls them inside you, his thumb speeding up into a faster, firmer rub and you lift your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cool air. His mouth finds a peaked bud, his tongue swirling over your nipple before he draws it into his mouth and your back arches, your voice hoarse when you cry out. 

“Keep going. Please keep going,” you chant, breathless and lost in a lust filled haze, chasing the high he’s built so expertly inside you. 

His fingers speed up, his thumb never ceasing and pulling the taut peak of your breast into his mouth with a suck, you clench around his fingers and come with a cry; the need between your hips spilling over with a heady wave of relief. 

His fingers are soaked and smeared with your slick when you help him work his belt buckle open, your fingers trembling as you reach in and find him hard and hot. The weight of his cock fills the palm of your hand, a sound breaking in the back of his throat when you pull him out of his pants and using his slick smeared hand, you hold his hip as he pumps himself with a rapid, firm hold, spilling slick ropes onto your stomach after a couple of strokes. 

Your body boneless and sated, you roll lazily onto your side to face him. 

“Hey now,” he scolds quietly, slightly breathless, tucking himself away. “You’re gonna get it all over the couch.”

“I don’t care.”

You don’t. Lord knows his spend is on the couch already for how many times he’s fucked you on it, but more than that, you don’t want to part from him to clean yourself off. 

Sleepy, spent and perfectly content, you tuck your face into the hollow of his throat and inhale his warm, masculine scent. His heart thrums beneath your lips, your nose nuzzling the fragrant softness of his skin and your hand slides up underneath his shirt, seeking out more. 

He’s so solid next to you, so broad. Barely fitting on the couch together, he lifts his arm to allow you to tuck yourself tight along him, and his beard catches on your lips when you tilt your face up to give him a kiss along the line of his jaw. A nibble, another small brush of your mouth and when you move down to give him another one over his shirt, you let your mouth rest against the beat of his heart. 

Alive, strong, healthy. 

Yours. 

You take another deep inhale over the cotton, your eyes closing. 

“You wanna take a nap?” you ask, so comfortable and content you’re already starting to drift. His responding laugh rumbles against your lips.

“Lazy bones,” he teases, no real conviction in the words. You nod, burying your face further into the safety of his chest, and he chuckles. 

Your breathing already evening out, your body relaxes next to his and he gives in, finding a comfortable position to rest his head. He lets his chin rest on the crown of it, and tightening his hold on you so you don’t fall off the couch, closes his eyes. 

–

The last dregs of summer slipping by with stagnant heat and a sweltering last gasp, autumn begins.  

You swim while you can, obsessed with the thought of a child floating weightless inside you while you float weightless in the river. Water sluicing over your skin, you let the current lift you from the bottom, the small swell of your stomach a rounded island above the surface as the rest of you floats just underneath. Hours spent this way, it’s the only time you can get true relief from the growing pressure between your hips. 

Your limbs weighted like lead upon getting out of the water, you try to explain it to Joel, who tries to explain it in terms of gravity and while it is clear he doesn’t really know what he’s talking about, you find joy in the obvious affection on his face every time you drag yourself up the bank. 

Harvesting what you can from the garden without a means of preserving it, you base your methods on the gardening book turned into your personal Bible. The pages bent and marked in dozens of places, your cache is well stocked: the food you grew plus the food you found in other cabins alongside the meat Joel brought back from hunting, with an organized system of dried seeds for preservation next to it all. Everything in a cool, dark place tucked away in the pantry closet, you store everything that you can and cross your fingers for the rest. 

The tiny bump between your hips is a marvel to the both of you. Some days it’s nearly forgotten: an afterthought hidden underneath your clothes as you work in the garden, clean the cabin, organize your supplies. Each week slightly bigger than the last, you slowly find yourself breaking free of the days of constant sleep and nausea and shifting into something that seems more normal. 

The first day you notice a true, solid difference in your changing shape, Joel wakes to find you standing sideways in front of the mirror, studying your body. You watch his image reflect behind yours as he sits up, letting the quilts pool around his hips. His hair sleep mussed and flat on one side, you smile at his reflection and turn to face him. 

“Crazy, right?” you ask tentatively, both awe and insecurity creeping into your tone. 

He says nothing, his eyes locked on the bare swell and holding his hand out towards you, he guides you to stand between his legs. 

Then, he just…touches. Broad sweeps of exploration across your stomach, his thumb stroking what should be a hollow above your hipbone but now is rounded outwards with life. He looks up at you in a silent plea for you to understand all the overwhelming things he is feeling and wordlessly, you do. His face has always been more expressive than he realizes. When he’s done, he rests his forehead against the plane of your chest and wraps his arms around you so tight you’re forced closer to him in his hold. You stay there for a while, dragging your nails through those dark, rumpled curls until your body curls over his, returning his embrace.

An estimated timeline drawn up on the back of an old calendar, the dates are truly a best guess based on when you left the QZ. Your life ruled by the slow changing of the seasons more than anything, it takes you a couple of hours to work out that it’s approximately late October and counting backwards, the baby should be born sometime in the spring. 

One year here. A smile lifts the corner of your mouth as you think about how unsteady your footing felt with him when you arrived here versus the concept of birthing his child one year from that date. 

Filling the neat squares out, you felt it only right to add other important dates: Thanksgiving, Christmas, your birthday. 

“When’s your birthday?” you ask him, flipping through the limp pages to make sure you got everything. 

“September 26th,” he replies, and you pause, looking up. 

“Damn, baby. We missed it.”

He shrugs, busying himself with the tool kit in front of him. 

The date tugs at your subconscious for a moment and then it dawns on you. 

“Are you kidding me? Outbreak Day? That’s — Jesus, Joel.” You find yourself laughing, even though it isn’t really funny. A grim sort of laugh, devoid of humor. “That’s terrible luck.”

“Tell me about it,” he replies dryly, and before you can stop it, a laugh slips out. He looks up and smiles at you, the dimple in his cheek a deep indent and you mark it on the calendar all the same, shaking your head. 

That night in bed though, you give him a long, tight hug. 

“What’s this for?” he asks, murmuring the question into your hair. 

Sorrow had been slowly building in you all day, thinking about that birthday. He had joked about it, but the more you thought about your initial reaction, the worse you felt. It weighed you down, the realization of how he probably woke up that day with a certain way of spending it in mind, only to have the world in ruin and his only child dead by the time the day ended. 

His birthday now circled on the calendar, it was also the anniversary of her death. A visual reminder you weren’t sure he wanted.

You squeeze him tighter, burying your face into the soft crook of his neck. “Your birthday. M’sorry.” 

His body resistant to your apology at first, his first instinct seems to be to pull back. “For missin’ it? You’re kidding me, right? We –”

The shake of your head stops him, and when you don’t let go, he eventually melts into your embrace. His arms tightening in their hold and in understanding, his voice soothes you. 

“S’okay, honey. Don’t worry about it. It’s alright.”

–

You writhe on the sheets, the quilt twisted in your grip and a soft moan catches in the back of your throat when he licks your clit again, increasing the pressure. A damp sheen of sweat beads along your lower back, sticking to the cotton underneath you when you arch your hips into the heat of his mouth. 

For weeks he’s indulged your need for him, his own growing along with it. The calendar flipped to November just this morning, there wasn’t much to be done today and so he relished in dragging you back to bed, intent on keeping you there for as long as he could. 

He has. With slow, lingering kisses that grew in need until you straddled him with a weighted grind, with touches that bordered feral in their trembling hold as he grasped every inch of you that he could reach, and pulling two releases from you with those calloused hands alone, you felt limp and all used up, but he wouldn’t let you stay that way. 

His tongue is insistent, yet patient. The movement of it practiced, yet maddeningly slow. 

It feels good but it’s not enough.

“Don’t tease Joel. Please.”

“I’m not teasin’ honey. I want you to come like this. I know you can. You’re so –” he lets out a low groan, “- fucking sensitive, I want you to show me you can do it.” 

The dark crown of his head fits in the space between your thighs, and his eyes look up at you, watching your expression of frustrated bliss. His tongue flicks over you, laving a firm, wide stripe from your entrance to the bundle of nerves and when he starts to firmly circle it with the tip of his tongue, you cry out. 

The pressure between your hips from the baby centering all sensation between your legs to an impossible to ignore emptiness that you ache with constantly, the need amplifies into an all consuming sensation that quickly overtakes you – sometimes bordering on too much if he isn’t careful. 

He’s taken it slow this afternoon; nothing but seemingly endless time on his hands while he ignores the strain underneath the fly of his jeans, and his tongue works you a little harder, a groan slipping from his throat into your spread, soaked cunt. 

His hand splayed over your belly, it keeps you in place as you try to squirm away and a wave of saturated pleasure ripples through you, your body curling into itself. Any words you try to form slide into a breathless moan, your thighs starting to tremble against his ears, your fingers sliding through his hair. 

“Fuck – fuck,” you keen, arousal building to an upbearable height while your feet plant on the bed to push your hips into his face. He gives your clit a direct kiss, drawing it into his mouth as he fills you suddenly with two thick fingers and you let out a sob. 

“I’m – I’m–”

A sudden noise from outside makes him jerk back, alert. 

It takes you a minute to catch up, submerged deep in the weighted waters of an impending release, but the expression on his face sobers you quickly. 

“What –” you start to ask, but he gives you such a stern look that you immediately fall silent. It’s a look you haven’t seen in months, and adrenaline sends a shiver across your exposed skin, flooding quickly through your body. He slips his fingers from you, and you watch as he quickly rises from his knees. 

He’s shirtless, the top button of his jeans undone with his small belly pushing against the waistband of his pants as he leans forward to grab his rifle from the corner of the room where he’s left it propped. His broad frame is rigid with tension, but outwardly calm: his face still yet hyper focused, his dark eyes narrowed as he listens. His chin still smeared and damp with your slick, you watch as he flicks the safety off and in a practiced, fluid motion, positions the gun with the butt tucked into his shoulder with a glistening finger poised near the trigger.

Near silent, he crouches and takes a step forward, shaking his head in a reprimand when you scoot forward on the bed to join him. 

“Stay there,” he says quietly, but firmly. 

“You can’t go out there alone,” you plead, your hands searching for your pants among the bedding. 

“You ain’t comin’ with. Just stay put.” He jerks his chin at the corner of the room, at a small space between the dresser and the wall. “Get over there and hide. Don’t come out till’ I say so. You got it?”

“Joel,” you whisper fiercely, his back already facing you as he turns towards the door. “Joel!”

As soon as he rounds the corner into the hallway and disappears from sight, you stand and shove your legs into your pants, pulling them up into place. Wet and sticky between your thighs, you ignore the uncomfortable way the fabric clings and debate: stay or follow. 

You hear something in the front room of the cabin, furniture scraping over the floor as it’s being pushed to the side and peering out from the bedroom, you see Joel trying to set up a vantage point. Half hidden behind a chair and the window frame, his eyes are trained on something outside, and a shift in your footing has him looking over at you, urgency and anger tightening his features. 

“I said hide. Get back in the room,” he orders, a vein in his neck flexing. “I told you to stay in there.”

His attention snaps back to the window and then he’s standing up, finger near the trigger. 

Someone is outside, a figure distorted by the windows, moving along the edge of the property. Not a clicker, telling by their cautious, deliberate steps - a human. A man, judging by the size. 

After that, it all happens faster than you can process it. 

Whipping the front door open, Joel has his gun trained on the man immediately.

“Stop!” Joel’s voice is loud and terrifying, your body flinching at the sound. 

The sound of movement from outside and a low curse from Joel tells you that the order isn’t heeded, and you bite back a scream at the same time a shot rings out, splinters of wood exploding into the living room. 

Another shot bursts through the air, shattering a pane of glass and crawling quickly on your hands and knees, you fit yourself behind the couch, shaking as you curl into a tight ball. You can see Joel from your spot, his bare back tightly locked into place as he tries to line up a good shot. Whoever it is must now be hiding behind the tree line, because you know Joel would have taken a shot by now if he had a clear one. 

Instantly transformed into the Joel you knew before, you can’t tear your eyes away from how powerful he looks. Imposing and calmly confident, with a barely restrained rage in the tremble of his muscles, he’s terrifying. He doesn’t move, one eye closed as he keeps aim and when a corresponding two shots fire at him in rapid succession, he takes a deep, shaky breath in, not even flinching as they hit the door about a foot away from his head. 

The closeness of the shots has you covering your mouth with your hands, panicking. 

Your gun, your gun — where the fuck is your gun? 

Your mind races through your mental map of the cabin, and remembering it’s in the kitchen, you run a visual path between the couch and where you need to be. You’d have to cross right in front of the open door, but it could be worth it for two guns against one.

Right? 

Another shot rings out, this one piercing an instant, bright hole through the wall in the living room. 

“Come on,” Joel growls to himself. “Come on.”

You flick your eyes over to the kitchen, willing your body to stop shaking as you get ready to move when one more shot rings out, and then Joel is suddenly standing tall from his position behind the chair, aiming and squeezing the trigger. The deafening bang makes you flinch and watching him reload, your knees automatically draw into your chest to protect yourself.

He moves to walk quickly outside, and you scramble again to follow. 

His strides are longer than yours, but still cautious as his eyes scan the edge of the property. The silence around you is unsettling, and confirming there is no other immediate threat, he turns back towards you. When he comes closer, you take a step back at how furious he looks. 

“What did I tell you?” He spits out the words between clenched teeth, one hand whipping out to tug you close. “I said to stay put. Why the hell did you follow me out there?”

Tears immediately fill your eyes, slipping down your cheeks in a warm rush as the tremors in your body start to get stronger. “What – who was that?”

“Are you okay?” He ignores your question, the intensity of his gaze raking over your features, dark and laced with worry. His hand comes to cradle your face, sweeping down over your collarbone, his knuckles dragging over your stomach. A tactile confirmation of your safety, not satisfied until he’s inspected it. 

Nodding, peering over his shoulder at the treeline. “Was there only one of them?”

“I think so, but I gotta go check.”

Panic grips your body, your hand clamping around his wrist. “No. No you can’t. You –”

“I gotta, honey. If there was one, there’s probably more. You know that.”

You do. You’ve been on both sides enough to know the truth in his words, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the idea of him leaving. 

His arm slips around your shoulders, turning you towards the cabin. His words are directed at you, but his eyes remain vigilant. “I’m just gonna walk the perimeter, make sure there isn’t anyone else.”

“But you just said there would be –”

“I know what I said,” he replies firmly, guiding you through the door. “I know.” 

He faces you fully, his hand cupping your chin to keep your eyes on his. “You and I both know it’s better to get them before they get us. We can’t just sit and wait. I need you –” he pauses, giving you a look when you start to open your mouth. “I need you to get your gun, and then hide. Okay?”

“But –”

“No buts. Please, honey. Please.”

His expression brooks no room for argument, but it’s the softness around the corner of his eyes that has you nodding. Worry has seeped into his features, and if he’s worried, you know it can’t be good. 

But you also trust him.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself while committing his face to your memory. 

“Okay.”

[bisexualiteaa]

actually dying for a cooper howard x vaultie!reader smut where they have some slow burn longing steaminess, but coop thinks she’s too good for him UNTIL she comes in contact with a sex pollen-esque chem and he finally gives in to save her 🥵 please work your magic and elaborate however you want

A Flame in Your Heart

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)

CW: NSFW like absolutely filthy y’all, you’ve been warned. 💀 unprotected sex, irradiated cream pie, p in v, p0rn w/ plot, slow burn, flirting, cursing, perverted thoughts, dub-con (because of chem usage though consent is asked and given!) rough sex, dirty talk, choking, praise kink, degradation, squirting, mention of fingering, FEELINGS!! Slight deviation from TV series, possible grammar/spelling mistakes, cooper starts off mean but slowly warms up to reader

AN: I absolutely LOVED this request! I was up all night writing down all my ideas and spent all this morning perfecting it, and this has to be my longest one yet! I thank you for your patience anon and my lovely readers as I finally post this! Hope you enjoy and that I have done your ask justice! ❤️

Life outside of the vault was difficult to say the least. You felt hunger and dehydration in ways you’d never experienced before, going out of your way to do desperate things you would normally never do in order to get said food and water. The heat was unbearable, every stretch of land you walked across had a danger lurking around every corner, and worst of all, you’d never felt so alone. You weren’t sure what it was about you, maybe it was because you were new to the surface, maybe it was your nearly perfect skin, but everyone seemed to stare or glare at you when you would walk through. It wasn’t until you’d passed through Filly, meeting Ma June that you realized people didn’t take kindly to people like you. “Vaulties” she called them, an audible disdain in her tone, making you look down to remember you were in your blue and gold Vault-Tec suit. “I’ll be going then, have a nice day!” You said skiddishly, offering her a kind smile before turning and exiting the shop. You just wanted to make friends, why was that so hard up here? So when your eyes set on a man clad in classic Wild West cowboy clothes, watching smoke settle after a stand off, you weren’t sure why but you knew that was who you needed on your side in this world. Before you knew it, your feet were already moving and mouth speaking to him, grabbing his attention.

“I ain’t no charity case sweetheart, I don’t take on strays” The ghoul spoke, his southern drawl making him even more memorable than the marred texture of his skin. You looked to the dog that trailed not far behind him as he walked, changing its pace to keep up with the man. “The dog there with you tells me otherwise” you quipped. “Ain’t my dog” he responded harshly as he continued walking. “I can make it worth your while!” You yelled, making him stop in his tracks for a moment, a scary sight at first before you worked up the nerve to come closer once he turned back to you. “And how you suppose you’d do that?” He asked, and at first you didn’t know what to say, the words leaving your mouth before you could really think of a good enough reason. Did nobody like company anymore these days? “Well…I can be your scavenger! Pretty good at collecting stuff” you offered, shaking your bag and making things rattle around inside to prove it, making him give a huff of a chuckle. “‘f I wanted a pack mule I’d‘ve found a brahman” he shot you down. “Okay, then I can be good company to talk to!” You offered. “They make radios for when I want to listen to someone yack” he shut down once again. “I’m a good cook! Even with shitty supplies, I can make a stew that’d put a smile even on the meanest son of a gun’s face” you said, hopeful that he’d at least take you for something, but you had a feeling he’d probably turn you down again. “Iguana on a stick’s just fine” he said, though he had to admit the stew sounded good. Reminded him of home before all this wasteland bullshit. “Oh, umm…” you said awkwardly, your tone growing quiet and my how it put a sad look in your eyes. The evil part of him liked it, seeing your sweet innocent face all downturned but the part that was still human deep down, the part that hardly ever saw the light of day anymore, had half a mind to let you.

“Got a lotta nerve walkin’ up t’ me, girly. If you somehow been lucky enough that you ain’t met dangerous yet, you’re lookin’ at someone who could put you down before you’d even mutter your last words” he threatened, motioning to the double barreled shotgun in his hands. “I know, I saw it first hand. You hold yourself well, I envy that. I’m new to all of this and just really want someone who can help me hold my own the same way” you explained. “Look, I know I don’t look like much but please just give me a chance” you begged, looking up at him with a fighting spirit in your eyes that he had to admit, he was pretty impressed in seeing in a vaultie. “You help me, I help you, however that ends up being” you offered, standing strong on this and damn if he didn’t see a little bit of himself in you at that. He gave a sigh, tilting his head down before shaking it, not believing himself for the words he was about to say. “Alright, but the minute you start draggin’ you’re out, got me?” He said, and he hated the way his cold heart seemed to pump a little faster upon seeing your eyes light up with joy and a smile stretch to your face. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” You said, opening your arms up to hug him but being met with the barrel of his gun poking your stomach to keep space between you. “I don’t do hugs” he spoke gruffly, making you back up enough to where he’d drop the gun back to his side. “R-Right…sorry” you apologized, embarrassment washing over you but still glad to finally have someone in your company. “C’mon, I ain’t got all day now” he said, motioning you to start walking, so you joined him.

Your travels with him certainly weren’t at all what you were expecting them to be. From being used as bait, to being tied up with rope most of the time you’d traveled together, or being sent in as his scavenger, you weren’t prepared for a lot of the reality you faced with being up on the surface. Most nights made you question why you’d ever left the comfort of the vault, why you’d abandoned a trusty food supply, regulated temperatures, a safe place to sleep that wasn’t riddled with radroaches or had the likely hood of waking up to a raider with a knife at your throat for no reason. Then you would remember the experiment in your vault, why you left that awful place for arguably a worse reality on the surface but at least you had freedom. Out here you were free to say what you want, do what you want, consume what you want so long as you could defend yourself incase that supply wasn’t unclaimed. You’d gotten pretty handy with a gun in the most recent weeks. Cooper, you learned one night was his name, using empty glass bottles as targets to help teach you accuracy and how to hit things from a longer range. In exchange, you came a little more useful than he had first thought. You had some useful stuff on you for trade like chems, ammo and food, were a good extra bag to hold stuff in, and you were a better cook than you’d talked about. Sure you had a tendency to talk too much, and you weren’t great with a gun, but you were getting there.

“Might I suggest takin’ them clothes instead of wearin’ that suit?” He said, making you look at him weird for suggesting you strip a dead raider of their clothes. “Why would I do that…?” You asked, genuinely confused and not sure what he was implying either, he was a hard man to predict. “Because, people see that shit and get real mad. People up here don’t like vaulties or the ones that run ‘em” he said and it made sense, it helped you understand why you kept getting evil glares each time someone would look at you or talk to you. You figured he knew best, so you took the shirt and pants from one of the female raiders, tucking them into your bag to change into at a better time. He gave a chuckle watching you do so, apologizing to the dead body profusely as you took their clothes and whatever valuables they had on them for the betterment of your own survival. You were still so naive, part of him was hoping he could slowly start to break and corrupt your way of thinking, but that was a thought for another time.

Before you knew it, night finally began to fall. The sun setting across the horizon gave the air less of a hot, harsh bite as the temperature began to cool rapidly across the sands of the Mojave. All you managed to grab was a pair of beat up, old jeans and a tank top, so as soon as the sun set, the chill set in. As you both set up camp for the night just outside of an abandoned rest stop, you started a fire to cook some of that stew you talked about being good at. He had to admit, it was pretty damn good, likely the best thing he’s had since before the bombs went off. Though even the kindling fire couldn’t manage to chase the chill away, watching you run your hands up and down your arms to try and warm up some by it. He felt a slight pang in his heart, watching you shiver like that, how your eyes lit up by the blaze of the fire and your hair seemed to be tousled just right. You were pretty, too pretty to be trekking this wasteland, and certainly too pretty to be trekking it with him of all people as your company. Even he had a heart still, as cold as it was, so out of kindness he shrugged his duster from his shoulders, draping it around you. You looked at the fabric pooled around you, pulling it over you better before looking to him as he sat down across from you again. “Ain’t no use if the cold gets ya” he said, making you smile appreciatively at him as you realized what he did. “Thank you” you replied, a slight blush fanning to your cheeks as the chattering of your teeth finally died down and you grew warmer. It smelled like him, sure it had splatters of old dried blood and was rather worn, but it had that gunpowder and smoke smell to it that you associated with him. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya” he replied, trying to sound cold but it didn’t come off that way, making you chuckle. “What do I owe you?” You asked, making him fall silent for a moment as he pondered the answer to your question. He looked you over for a second before tipping his hat down to cover his face a bit, the signal that he was about to try and get some sleep. “Just keep watch for a bit, I’ll be up in a few hours” he responded, and while it wasn’t what you were expecting, you’d take it.

He was startled awake a couple hours later when he heard a commotion, you yelling at someone telling them to back off that this place had been claimed. The raider you were up against didn’t seem to like that very much, claiming that wasn’t how it worked up here. The altercation took a turn for the worst when the man reached for his gun but you were quick to fire and kill him before he could let out a shot. A shaky feeling set in your hands and a horrified expression across your face at the realization that you just killed someone. Cooper, who was certainly wide awake now, was rather impressed by your quick timing and precision, coming up behind you to lay a gloved hand to your shoulder. “Well would ya look at that, looks like them lessons been payin’ off after all. How’s it feel?” He asked, looking down at you as you stared at the gun in your hands. “He was yelling at me but…he was aiming at you. I don’t really know what came over me, I didn’t like that he was going to shoot you so I just…I killed him” you said, recounting the encounter to him as if he hadn’t seen it himself. He didn’t really know what to think in that moment as you explained how your mind worked, he was proud for sure at your show of improvement with a gun, yet also touched at the same time. No one ever really looked out for him since he started his bounty hunting, he was a well hated man by many but you defended him without really any reason to. You’d just learned his name not but two weeks ago, and before that he was dragging you around with rope yet you still defended him, had you two really gotten closer in the time that’s passed since? He wasn’t sure, but it was something he could mull over while you were sleeping. “Get some rest vaultie, sun’ll be up soon” he said, knowing you likely wouldn’t get much sleep with the adrenaline still coursing through you, but it was at least worth a try, you two had a long day ahead of you.

When you woke up that next morning, things felt a little different between you two. You weren’t some annoying little dog following him anymore, you were an equal. He no longer looked at you and treated you like you were lower than him as you both set out across the wastelands, he had respect for you. Hell, he even started talking with you now when you were out traveling which was almost unbelievable. You learned through those conversations that he used to be an actor in Wild West themed films, explaining his outfit, and that he was married before the bombs dropped. You of course told him bits and pieces about yourself in exchange, after all it only felt fair but it was also nice to just finally talk to someone after all this time.

When night time fell again you two sat enjoying a meal by the fire together, only rather than across from each other, he sat next to you, making a blush come to your face as you’d smiled sweetly at him. “Glad to know I don’t have germs anymore” you said jokingly, making him chuckle. “Give an old man some credit. It ain’t exactly all peaches and marmalade out here darlin’, even cute can be deadly” he said, the nickname and him calling you cute sending a deeper blush to your cheeks despite knowing it’s just how he spoke. Whether it was the lack of contact with other people for so long, or just his charm you couldn’t quite tell, but it always seemed to have an effect on you. “Just teasin’ you, I get it. I’d tie me up and use me for bait too if I’d been doing this as long as you have. It’s a shit hole out here” you said, making him look at you as you dropped the first curse word he’s ever heard from you. “Well I’ll be damned, either I’m a bad influence or you’re finally growin’ outta that naive shell there, vaultie” Cooper replied, making you laugh as you saw a smirk stretch to his thin, marred lips, the first one you’d seen in a while that wasn’t brought on by drugs, chems or that first sip of a good bottle of alcohol. “Probably both” you quipped, making him chuckle. “Yeah, probably. Been told I ain’t easy to stomach” he said, making you hum. “You’re alright in my book, Coop” you replied with a sweet, genuine smile that matched your tone and was that butterflies you felt in your stomach? Did you just call him Coop? No ones called him that in ages, why did it make his heart start to flutter a bit? “You ain’t so bad yourself, vaultie” he responded, still affording you that small smile before turning back to his food. “Keep making food this good and I just might have to keep you around” he joked, making you giggle and break the slightly tense silence. “It’s not much but I certainly try. I’ll definitely make sure to stay good at it, I like traveling with you” you said, unintentionally coming off flirtatious and fuck there it goes again, that feeling in his chest and his stomach like he needed to hit his inhaler but he felt great. What were you doing to him?

“Hey, if it isn’t too much can I ask you a sort of…personal question?” You asked, holding the beat up bowl in your hands as you looked over at him. This was normally the part where he would say no, absolutely not, he wasn’t here to be questioned on his personal matters. Yet, with you, it was different. Ever since last night he hasn’t been so on edge with you, it was like he’d warmed up to you. “Depends on what you’re askin’ there, sweetheart” he said, the nickname once again making you blush. “Do you…miss them? Your wife and daughter?” You asked, not sure if it was a good subject or good question to ask but after finding out, you were genuinely curious. He looked down at his bowl again, thinking of the proper response to your question. The old him would have been defensive, told you it was none of your business, but now? He wasn’t sure. “Ain’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about ‘em. About the way I ran out on ‘em when them bombs dropped” he answered, making you give him a sad look as genuine guilt filled his tone. This was the most honest and open he’s been with you this whole time. “I feel guilty. Not sure if I feel guilty for runnin’ out and leavin’ ‘em behind or guilty for the way I ran out, been tryin’ t’ figure that out for quite a while now and I still ain’t sure” he added, and you sympathized with that. Everyone has regrets, things they’ve done in the past that they aren’t proud of, people up here were no different in that aspect. “Well, in the short time I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve come to understand that everything you do has a valid reason behind it. So even if you feel it was a shitty thing to do, you obviously had a reason for doing so. No one can blame you for trusting your gut, and I don’t think you should blame yourself for doing so” you responded, your hand falling to his as a comforting gesture, your words ringing in his head almost as if you’d opened something in his mind, something he’d never really gave himself to think about before. He looked down at your hand that rested on his, noticing the way you didn’t flinch away from him like others did, the way you were brave enough to walk up to him, talk to him, *trust* him when he made it very clear that you shouldn’t. It was smaller than his, softer for sure, but warm all the same, then he looked up to see that caring look in your eyes and smile on your face that told him that you cared. “Guess you’re right, still wonder sometimes if it was the right choice to make” he replied. “I understand. Everyone has regrets, we all look at the past and hold at least something that we’ve done before in regret, it’s what makes us human” you said, making him give a huff as a chuckle. “You got anybody?” He asked, making you look down as you moved your feet along the dirt. “An ex-husband, but not anyone I really care about, no. My parents passed a few years before the bombings and he and I split up when I caught him cheating on me with some other woman in the vault..” you explained, not sure why it hurt you to tell the tale still, but you felt it was only fair considering what you’d asked of him to share. “Sorry t’ hear that” Cooper said, making you chuckle weakly, a somber look coming to your face that made his heart wrench. “I haven’t exactly been in love since, and considering he and I split up just a little over ten years ago, really says something I guess, huh?” You asked, trying to laugh to bring up the mood, knowing you sounded pathetic. “He was the fool, not you darlin’. He was the one skippin’ out on one hell of a woman” Cooper said, making you look to him and blush a bit as you gave a chuckle at his response.

“Thanks” you replied appreciatively and with a smile before casting your gaze down to see your hands were still connected and it left you blushing harder with embarrassment, you’d been holding his hand this entire time without realizing it. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable if I have I-“ “relax vaultie” he cut you off, pushing your hand back down onto his to assure you that he was far from uncomfortable. “It’s…rather nice actually” he admitted, making you feel relieved but your heart fluttered in your chest from it. A thick tension soon began to set in between you both after that night, something of an unspoken, kindling romance beginning to develop. “Then there it can stay” you said, making him smile softly at you, tipping his hat at you as a silent thank you.

Months passed on like this, where you’d spend the days scavenging, picking the land for its resources you could find and hunting bounties by day, then spending your nights by a fire growing closer and closer with every passing day. Through your shared meals, jokes, deep conversations, and plenty of near death experiences, you started to notice your fondness of the ghoul you traveled with. The way you’d hang onto his words with that southern accent that seemed to pull at your heart strings, or the way you’d go out of your way to stand between him and a stray bullet. You’d helped him on more than one occasion in getting out of a sticky spot, or getting him the stuff he needed to keep from turning feral. In return, he started to notice he was feeling the same towards you. There was this sudden need to keep you safe, to do nicer things for you, to speak better towards you, even flirt with you at times. Some nights there’d be so much tension in the air, it’s a miracle you haven’t jumped each other yet. Though in his eyes, as much as his heart yearned for you, he knew you were too good for him. You’d been hurt before, and he had a reputation for hurting people, feeling undeserving of even just the sweet smiles and company you afford him even now. You didn’t need someone like him, you needed a good man, someone who didn’t kill for a living, someone who could treat you right, someone who didn’t look the way he did. You were soft and warm, he was rough and cold, though he supposed that’s where the term “opposites attract” came from. So even when he was a whole bottle deep, he was sure to hold his tongue to a certain point.

Some of those nights around the fire were spent sober, others not so much, and this night happened to be one of those nights spent under the influence. You two had stumbled across a mini-mart, doing your best to out run the radstorm that had been trailing you guys for hours, coming in just to find whatever supplies you could to make it through the next week and possibly hunker down for the night. So imagine your surprise when you seemed to have found the largest chem stache you’d both ever laid eyes on. “Coop! Come here, you gotta see this” you said, making him run towards you to make sure you weren’t hurt or in trouble. His nerves were eased once he saw you, fully intact. “Tell me I’m not seeing shit” you said, pointing to all of the supplies sitting in a box on the table, joined by other supplies around it. You both looked at each other in complete and utter disbelief, this would keep you stocked for months, maybe even a whole year if you conserved it well. “Well ain’t that just the prettiest fuckin’ sight” he said. There was no way a horde of chems this large and this valuable was just completely unprotected you reasoned, so you routed around the place, scoping out for any raiders, straggling traders or ferals who happened to still be around. It was as if heaven was shining down on you both as you found no one around, seemed like no one had been here for days. So you did the most logical thing anyone would do in this situation. Stuff each of your bags to the brim of drugs of all varieties! Seeing as you had food, chems and even some clean water and alcohol lying around, Cooper locked and barricaded the door shut, proposing it could be a good spot to sleep for the night. With a radstorm approaching, it was best to have a roof over your heads to keep out the rain and potential radiation sickness that came with it. “This is the closest fuckin’ thing to a slice of heaven I’ve seen in ages” he said, aside from you is what played in his mind but he couldn’t speak that out loud, no matter how much he wanted to. “You said it!” you replied, and it’s even better with you here you thought, but thought it best to keep it to yourself. He plopped down on the couch, kicking his feet up to rest on the small table that seemed to be in shambles, enjoying a tape that was playing on the TV that he was surprised to still see functioning. “Holy shit, this thing still works?” You asked, amazed to see working technology out in the wastelands, sitting next to him as you watched it with him. He gave a smirk at your reaction, thinking it was cute the way your eyes would light up when you got all excited over something. Deep down it made him want to give you everything you laid eyes on like that just to see it pointed towards him. “Guess so” he replied, enjoying your excitement only to see you turn and look his way, which was his signal to stop staring holes into you before he gets caught. “I dunno about you baby doll, but I ain’t about to spend tonight sober with this stache sittin’ here ‘n front of us” he said, making you laugh as he routed through all the different drugs and chems til he found what he was looking for.

In the process of searching through it all, a small metal box fell to the floor at your feet. It looked like a box of mentats only the design was different, instead of the characteristic green and white box was a red one covered with hearts labeled DN-Chem. You supposed the worst that could happen was turn into the man sitting next to you, which you figured wasn’t the worst fate to succumb to all things considered, so you went against all better judgement and said fuck it, popping two of the mentat like chems and chasing it with the vodka he’d found to wait for it to take effect. “The hell is DN?” He asked, looking at the box, wondering what it was you took. “Don’t know, guess we’ll find out here soon because I took two” you said, taking another sip from the bottle of vodka he passed your way, and he gave a chuckle as you handed it back to him. “You come a mighty long way, little lady” he commented before setting the metal pill box down. He took the bottle from you, taking a swig, then placing one of the small viles into his inhaler before taking a hit of it then lying back, breathing a sigh of relief as it and the alcohol entered his system like the perfect remedy to any ailment. As about a half an hour rolled by, you waited for the high to set in but it never came, instead you were just getting hot, like really hot. There weren’t any windows open, and it was night time so you shouldn’t be this uncomfortably hot for how it was but you felt like you were on fire. “Shit, it’s hot as hell in here…” you complained, shaking off your jacket that you’d picked off of some raider a few weeks back, making him look to you curiously. “Lightweight” he quipped, making you chuckle. “Accept I don’t feel anything, I just feel hot” you said, making him hum with intrigue before turning back to the TV. “Give it some time, you’re new to all this. ‘m sure your body is wonderin’ what the hell you just put in it” he said, and he had a good point, maybe it was just a side effect of not doing them so often compared to his every day use.

As time went on, you began to notice the way your eyes couldn’t help but be glued to him, more specifically glued to the way his legs were now spread as he sat back. You wondered to yourself what he looked like beneath all that cowboy get up, what his reaction would be like to see you getting on your knees for him and slotting yourself between his spread legs. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of such inappropriate thoughts, but what you couldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried was the feeling of arousal beginning to pool in your panties. Sure he flirted with you every now and again, but you doubt he felt towards you the same way you did for him. To him you were sure you were likely more akin to a pet than a friend, useful and nice to have around, but not anything further. At least so you thought. You’d rather hoped you were wrong in assuming so, that maybe he saw you the same way you saw him. You bit your lip as you tried bouncing your leg to relieve the ache between your thighs, a light pink dusting your face and neck even up to the tips of your ears, but nothing worked. Even as you closed your eyes, all you could picture was you laid out on the couch beneath him, or bent over it with him behind you, or you riding him on it. “Been awful quiet. You doin’ alright over there, sweetheart?” Cooper asked you, and the audible whimper you let out from the nickname left you completely embarrassed. You clasped a hand over your mouth, god you were horrified but he gave a grin and a chuckle in response. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me all the sudden. I feel so…weird?” you said, unsure if that was really the proper word to explain it but it was the only way you could really word it off the top of your head with how much your brain felt as if it was turning to mush. “Ya took some chems, it’s gonna feel a bit fuzzy” he said, trying to assure you that feeling a little funny was normal, but this? This didn’t feel normal, not even for a chem high. You tried your best to swallow harshly, doing everything you could to try and relieve the dry ache you felt in your throat at the moment upon looking at him. You grabbed the bottle of vodka, taking a few sips but even that couldn’t grant you bliss from it. The throbbing in your core was driving you absolutely insane. You swore up and down that it was like you could feel your heartbeat in your chest, stomach, and in your cunt all at the same time. “No, this is different…I don’t think what I took was a normal chem, Coop…” you said, trying not to panic at the effects that were setting in but god you felt like you were absolutely feral. He turned to look at you, watching as you clamped your thighs together and the red that fell over your face. “I feel like an animal in heat” you said bluntly, making him go into a near coughing fit as you took him off guard. However that piqued his interest enough to pick up the little metal box again to see what it was you took. “I ain’t ever heard of a chem that does that, was that DN shit the only stuff you took?” He asked, growing slightly concerned for you and whether he had a possible horde of laced chems, or just an extremely horny woman on his hands. Speaking of hands, you were lost in thought staring at them, at the way they gripped the couch like you wanted him to grip your thighs, at the way they looked in those leather gloves he always wore. You wondered how it would feel wrapped around your throat, or how it would feel if his fingers were buried deep inside of you. Shit. This was getting out of control.

“Hey, ya with me still?” He asked, snapping to try and get your attention back on the matter at hand, making you shake your head yes as you broke from your perverted thoughts. “Is that DN shit the only thing you took?” He asked again, making you shake your head yes once more, because you knew damn well your voice was going to betray you the moment you tried to speak. That had to be it, it was the only thing that was different out of it all and the only thing he’d never heard of before. He knew it wasn’t the vodka either because he was drinking it with you, so if it was affecting you, it would have affected him and it hadn’t.

It took him a minute to put two and two together before he finally realized the abbreviations stood for Date Night, reading the instructions and effects on the inside of the tin’s lid. “Shit..” he said as he read it, realizing this was a hand made thing thrown into the bunch by whoever was running this place. “Did you read the lid before you popped them pills?” He asked, making you go wide eyed. As if this couldn’t get any fucking worse, this shit show could have been avoided had you just read the inside of the lid. “There was instructions?? Oh my god…what the fuck did I take?” You asked, concerned for yourself and the tone he had while reading it. “Somethin’ that the creator of it called Date Night. Looks like it’s a…well looks like it’s a handmade sex chem” he said, making you cover your face with your hands out of sheer embarrassment, you’d never wanted to die out in a radstorm more than you did right now. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking, cooper…” you whined, watching him read it more. “How much of it did you take?” He asked, almost scared to know and you were scared to know why. “Two?” You replied, making him whistle at that as he read it. “Fuckin’ hell sugar..” he said through a chuckle, and that nickname made a shiver run through you, sending electric bolts straight to your throbbing cunt. You did your best to bite back the whimper. “You’re only s’possed take one, and with you bein’ new t’ all this, I wouldn’t have taken more than half” he said, making you just wish you could just dig a hole and die in it already. “Fuck me…wait, shit! N-Not literally fuck me I- well I mean I’d like if you did but…FUCK! Forgive me Cooper, I’m so sorry, I can hardly think straight” you said, making him chuckle. “Well sweetheart, I think you and I both know there’s only one good fix for this situation” he said, making you whimper pathetically at the thought, your thighs squeezing together even more as you tried to fight to stay sane. Your eyes cast downwards to his lap once more, seeing the tent forming in his pants, clearly you weren’t the only one all worked up here. “I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, Coop. I can run off and take care of myself if it makes you uncomfort-“ you rambled but before you could finish, his hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you in for a long awaited kiss. You moaned into it without meaning to, feeling the way your body immediately relaxed upon wrapping your arms around him with no hesitation as the sweet innocent kiss turned passionate and dirty rather quickly.

“I won’t lie t’ you, doin’ this with you has passed my mind more times than I’d care to admit, but I don’t wanna cross that line unless you really want this” he said, looking into your eyes and making sure that this was truly what you wanted, that you felt the same way he did. “Coop, I know I’m under the influence of whatever the fuck this drug is, but trust me when I say, I’d be just as good with it sober. Been thinking about it for probably just as long as you have, if I’m honest with you. I want this, I want you and right now I want you so fucking bad that I might lose my mind if you don’t fuck me” you answered bluntly, taking him by surprise at just the sheer amount of absolute filth that left your otherwise innocent mouth, making him chuckle at your use of curse words and how desperate you were for him. “That so sugar?” He asked with a grin, enjoying teasing you at your neediest moments, including now. “God yes, Cooper please..” you begged, nearly moaning in reply and he’d spent time mulling over it before, denying himself the chance but just as the chem stache was a pot of gold, he took this as one of the best opportunities being placed in his lap by whatever higher power existed out there, making him waste no time in kissing you once more. “Good, because I don’t think I’d be able to hold myself back once we’ve started” he said, and the idea made you moan. “Don’t want you to hold back, want all of you” you said, and your wish was his command.

By the time your brain could finally catch up with you again, your clothes were strewn out all around you, your tank top hanging over the back of the couch, your jeans thrown haphazardly on the arm rest behind you, his pants on the floor, his hat on the table and shirt and duster having fallen somewhere behind the couch. By now, you’d already cum on his fingers twice, and on his cock once, this was your fourth round and this shit still had you on fire. “Yes!! Oh fuck, Cooper!” you moaned as your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him as close to you as you could get, your fingers digging crescent shapes and puffy red lines into his back that unfortunately he knew wouldn’t stay long thanks to his ability to heal stupidly fast. “Doin’ so good for me, baby doll. Look so pretty like this for me, all splayed out like a needy little whore” he praised and degraded through his groans, making you moan and roll your eyes into the back of your head at the praise mixed with degradation as his cock was drilling deep inside you like tonight was all you guys had. “Yeah, you like that, huh sweet thing? Like it when I tell you how good it feels and call you names?” He asked, making you nod your head yes because there wasn’t a single thought in that brain of yours other than his name, which you spoke like a mantra. “Never knew such a sweet lil’ thing like you would be such a dirty little minx. Fuck…enough to make a man like me go feral, ya know that?” he said, making you giggle as you moved his free hand up to your throat, urging him to choke you, and he groaned at the sight. Your kiss swollen lips all puffy and shining with spit, your cheeks dusted a constant pink that grew darker anytime his cock brushed that spot deep inside that made you cling to him, your eyes half lidded, looking up at him like he was your savior. It made him absolutely rock hard knowing you’d pick him over anyone else in this god forsaken wasteland. “My, you are just a little freak, ain’t you? Oh we are gonna have fun together, you and me honey” he promised, squeezing your throat tight enough to restrict your airflow but not enough to hurt or cause any damage. Just enough to get that puddle of a brain of yours all fuzzy as you got closer to your fourth orgasm of the night. “Cooper…’m so close, so close please!!” You begged, feeling the heavy drag of his cock as he pounded into you, leaving you damn near screaming as it nudged your cervix and that spongy little bundle of nerves deep inside. “Go on honey, I gotchya. Let go for me, wanna see those pretty faces and hear those pretty noises you make” he said, angling his hips just right to hit that spot over and over again. “Oh fuck, oh fuck I’m gonna cum again, I-“ you warned before your moans rose in pitch as your walls clamped around him, gushing on his cock as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your body arched off the couch, stars filling your vision for a moment as you felt your release gush out and coat your inner thighs, screaming his name like it was your only chance at salvation. “Well ain’t I just the damn luckiest man in the wastelands right now, got me a pretty little vaultie and she’s a gusher” he said, making you whimper at his teasing but judging by the way he emptied himself inside you for the second time, you took it as a sign that he liked that about you. “Holy shit, I-I didn’t know I could do that” you said, thoroughly shocked with what your brain and body were doing as they almost seemed to almost be working against each other. “Do it again for me” he said, grabbing you and moving you both to where you were straddling him this time. His hands rested on your hips, helping guide you as you speared yourself on his dick with ease from how absolutely soaked you were, making you both throw your head back and moan. “Now that’s a damn good sight” he said, making you lean in to kiss him once more as his hands helped you start and keep a steady rhythm with your hips. It was definitely going to be a long night, but one you two have been needing for months, maybe even longer.

It’s a good thing ghouls have remarkable recovery time, because in order to finally get you sated and back to normal, you both had to spend all night going at it. Granted, it was aided by the mix of pent up sexual tension and pent up sexual frustration, but it was dawn before you both had gotten to a point where you could even *try* and fall sleep. First few times was on the couch between missionary, doggy and you riding him, next was you bent over it, with your pretty legs spread and ass in the air for him. Then, you used the arm rest of the couch as a pillow beneath your hips as he stood up while you laid out on the couch. He liked that one a lot for the way your tits would bounce with each and every forceful thrust into you, jolting your body. After that, it was done standing up with your back pressed against a wall, your legs and arms wrapped around him to keep him deep inside of you and fill you til he had nothing left to give you. From that point on, the rest of the night was all a hormone-hazed blur, but you knew well that he took care of you. You woke up unbelievably sore, your joints aching in places that you had no idea could even ache, a swollen, angry throb between your legs for the harsh, almost punishing treatment to your pussy followed by bruises, bite marks, scratch marks, hand prints etc. littered your skin as you woke up curled into Cooper’s side. You gave a gravelly groan as the sun shone in your eyes through the windows, making him chuckle at the way you were such a ray of sunshine except in the morning. Coming to learn that you absolutely *hated* mornings. Though you suppose you started to enjoy them more since traveling with him. “Mornin’ sunshine” he said coyly, making you groan disapprovingly at the way the sun was in your eyes, making you hold your hand up to cast a shadow on your face and grant you some relief. “Morning” you answered, your voice hoarse and half gone from sleep and all your activities that transpired the previous night. “Ain’t that a pretty sight” he said, turning and seeing you curled up to him, naked, your hair all messy from sleep and the hickeys and bite marks littering your skin, making you chuckle. “Last night was definitely something, can’t believe you’ve been holding all *that* out on me” you joked, making him give a dry laugh. “Could say the same thing about you, sugar. Had no idea that mind a yours could be so filthy. You’re a wild thing to party with, lil’ lady” he teased, sliding his arm around you to keep you close, making you hum as you lay soft, appreciative kisses to his collarbone and chest. “You’re fun too, and thank you for taking care of me last night. I’m sorry that it ended up happening the way that it did, I wanted to work up the courage and tell you some other way, I really did, but I guess life had other plans” you said making him chuckle as he saw you blush when he kissed your head. “Drunk words are sober thoughts they say, so I’d say I made out pretty good. But don’t sweat it, not sure how I deserved someone as good as you, but it’s good to know I ain’t as hard to stomach as most people say” he said, pulling you in for a soft, heartfelt kiss. “I think you are just perfect, Cooper” you said, your hand resting on his scarred chest as you looked at him with that gaze he swore he’d do anything to see pointed his way.

“You really wanna be my girl?” He asked softly, sounding shocked and with some self doubt still lacing his tone, but he had to be sure this was what you wanted outside of the drug’s effects. He cared for you deeply, in a way that he hasn’t felt in a very long time, but maybe you were just the right person for him to finally open his heart up to. His question made you giggle as your heart fluttered in your chest with excitement. “I absolutely do, I meant it when I said it last night, I mean it just as much now. I think we’ve danced around it for long enough, don’t you?” you replied, making him smile the most genuinely happy smile you’ve seen him wear since you’d met. “Just checkin’” he said, before laying a sweet kiss to your lips, wishing every morning could be like this one. Maybe it could, now that you were here with him.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

If you get pregnant from a ghoul, what would the kid be like? Human? Ghoul? Some weird freakish third thing? Even Gulpers are just mutated humans so anything is possible.

(I'll put a trigger warning here for "mild discussion of pregnancy loss/premature birth", in case that upsets anyone.)

My official answer to this is: "looks human, but closer to a freakish third thing when you get down to the details".

The pregnancy certainly wouldn't be a cakewalk. Frankly, I think you'd have to have a pretty preternatural resistance to radiation to successfully conceive with a ghoul to begin with (which we see is achievable for some people; otherwise I think there would just straight up be no successful fertilization/implantation). If you were able to make it happen, I think the fetus would be quite radioactive itself early on, and you'd struggle a lot. You might be able to get away with the occasional dose of Radaway if you're incredibly sick, like too sick to function, but too much of it and I think you'd be risking unfavorable outcomes. With luck (and maybe a higher-than-average endurance), things might taper off the further along you get. I imagine the birth would be unremarkable, all other regular health factors considered, unless you found yourself so ill from the baseline radiation that you were unable to continue carrying to full term and were forced to deliver prematurely. The odds of that certainly aren't zero. Your breast milk would make a Geiger counter go nuts.

It's hard to imagine the 50% genetic spawn of a ghoul wouldn't be significantly more radiation resistant, right? Like, at minimum? Personally, I think if you had a baby with a ghoul, that kid would be constantly drawn to play in puddles of nuclear fallout, to drink from dirty sources, to want to go outside during rad storms. Radiation is healing and refreshing for ghouls, so I would imagine at least some of that would transfer, no matter how much it makes you worry. You'd probably find the kid sucking on a power core if you turned your back for too long.

I, personally, would think that a kid like that would age normally, but since we know ghouls have that super-regenerative ability, maybe there's a chance that they'd shoot through the puberty phase really quickly? I mean, that "growing" phase in adolescence is basically just a bunch of cells dying off and being regenerated/high rates of cell generation to build muscle and bone mass. Again, I'd like to think they'd grow pretty typically, all things considered, but it's certainly something to think about.

That regenerative ability could certainly prove quite...tricky at times. We've seen how quickly it can heal wounds, which is great for something like a puncture or a stab wound...but what about a broken bone? I can't help but be reminded of an audio diary you can find in Bioshock 2 that talks about the Little Sisters' insane regenerative ability and its disadvantages. At one point, one of the girls escapes from the researchers studying them and throws herself over a balcony (trying to escape or end her life, though which is unclear), shattering both of her legs. But by the time they've made it to the bottom where she's lying, her legs have already healed at a bunch of fucked up and unnatural angles, so they have to break her legs over and over again until they can set them correctly. With as quickly as we see ghouls heal in the show (and in the games), it's hard to imagine you wouldn't run into the same issue, as horrific as it is.

Can you imagine your child having to go through that because they fell playing (or fleeing, god forbid) and broke their arm, or their collarbone or something? Can you imagine having to be the person doing the breaking? What if there's no one else to do it?

I'd also assume that, as they age into their teen years/early adulthood, their aging would slow, though I think exactly how much it would slow would depend on the individual child and their circumstances. I do think half-ghoul children would be able to be turned fully ghoul through some conventional means, just maybe over a longer period of time and with much higher doses of radiation.

[kimulus0check]

One day I’ll color this (no I won’t)

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N and Lucy's daughter was a huge Silver Shroud fan little did she know that her dad was the actor of the actual character, so when it was her birthday he surprised her cosplaying as The Silver Shroud.

Ella: where’s Poppa?

Lucy: just give him a second baby

Y/N steps into their house in full Silver Shroud garb…

Y/N: Justice has come for you, birthday girl, and I am it’s Shroud!

Ella squeals in delight before jumping into her father’s arms…

Lucy: nice costume, Ace.

Y/N: borrowed it from the radio station (winks)

[ghoulphile]

janey's dad | c.h./the ghoul | part 01

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 3.7k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap, hair pulling, teasing, making out, mutual pining, lipstick kink, stockings, frottage, porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --” ➥ notes | i'm so sorry this is later than it should be. i am unfortunately a corporate slave and this fic just did not want to cooperate 🫠 there are a lot more things planned and this fic is turning into a bit of a beast (20+ pages and counting rip lmao) so i've decided to split it into two parts to make it more manageable for myself mostly un-beta'd atm a special thanks to @corinthianism for all her lovely help ❤️!!

feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Divorce is hard, but being a divorcé is downright hellish.

One of the ugliest things in the world, if Cooper Howard has any say. At least when he was a Marine, they told him where to point his gun, where to aim; nameless threats vanishing with a quick squeeze of the trigger.

Here, these ‘enemies’ aren’t enemies — not really.

It’d be easier if they were.

Worse still, they have names he holds as dearly as his own. There’s Barb, whip smart and always so clever. Then Janey, the light of his life and so sweet his teeth ache.

Once upon a time, life was sweeter than apple pie on Sundays.

Then came the separation.

Afterwards, he finds it hard to look at what’s left of his family without losing breath like a horse kick to the chest. Their absence rips open a hole inside him ten miles wide, its edges jagged and wrong.

And when he can’t take the silence anymore, fingers of malt liquor help dull the ache, though it’ll never be enough to mend what’s broken.

See, war’s something he understands.

But these domestic battlefields where he sits across from his ex-wife while lawyers barter this weekend and that holiday?

How he struggles to meet his daughter’s eye every time she asks if he’s coming home?

When Barb keeps the house and the money while he keeps the scrapbooks and the dog?

He doesn’t — can't — refuses to comprehend.

Because in what world can you reconcile looking down the barrel of a smoking gun only to find the woman you love staring back, finger on the trigger? Left out to hang as Vault-Tec orchestrates his downfall.

The true depth of their involvement is unknown, but it’s no coincidence his bank accounts dried up faster than the Mojave in June. The ink still wet when the media snapped up the story of his failed marriage.

Thus, his reputation (rather what’s left of it) unraveled faster than a spool of thread.

Knocked on his ass and kept there by a boot heel crushing his windpipe. Whose? He hasn’t got a fucking clue.

But whoever they are, they’re making sure he stays a washed up nobody who struggles to land a call back, much less pay his monthly alimony on time.

See what we can do? You were America’s favorite gunslinger - now look at you. Mind your place.

Hell, millions used to scream his name.

Nowadays people whisper it behind their hands like a dirty secret, “Oh, did you hear? Cooper Howard…” as they dissect pieces of his life into bite-sized Before’s and After’s. “Hah! Serves him right. Y’know, I never liked him much.”

While he grits his teeth and swallows his bitterness with a smile, he hates how he can’t protect Janey from snide reporters and nosy strangers. Juggling actor-father-divorcé with fumbling hands.

It’s only been six months; a heartbeat, a lifetime, and already he’s scraped thin like butter over too much bread.

Something’s gotta give.

After all, he’s only one man.

But just when it's bleakest, the clouds part.

A young woman moves in next door, the first bright thing that’s come his way in a long, long while.

At first, he kept his distance.

Exchanged vague hello’s and how-are-you’s. Then Janey took a shine; always so friendly and eager to talk about her latest books.

Any reservations he might’ve had died when he saw how enamored you are with her.

Only made sense that over time small pleasantries turned into playdates. Then those playdates turned into sleepovers.

Before long, you’re watching her when a gig runs late.

Rustling up grub and tucking her into bed more often than not these days. And when he slinks in through the door, knees aching and stripped to the bone, there you are with a shy smile and a warm meal.

So what if he takes himself in hand after you leave, stroking his cock to the thought of you down on your knees in that pretty little sundress?

Imagines the wide stretch of your ruby lips as you swallow him down, lipstick smeared an awful mess?

Cums hard to the fantasy of your teary eyes and hiccupy breaths as you choke?

What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

After all, he’s a gentleman... he promises to keep his hands to himself.

“All right, Sugar Bomb, it’s bedtime.”

Bundled in navy bedding up to her nose, Janey’s wide brown eyes peer up at you from beneath a riot of frizzy curls. Roosevelt, her ever faithful companion, plasters himself to her side. The tip of his tail swishes once, twice before falling limp.

“Ah, c’mon guys. Don’t look at me like that.” You sigh with a fond shake of the head, hip popping out to rest against the doorframe. “I don’t make the rules, I just follow ‘em.”

A muffled response sounds from the lump of little girl, “Nmfhm.”

Squinting, you dip your head and tap the side of your ear, "Pardon?"

“Mnhfmmmm.”

“Ye—eah… Didn’t catch that, Mumbler.”

Janey tugs down the blanket, her mouth pursed in a moue of displeasure. “I said,” she crosses her arms with a huff, “not until Dad gets home.”

Shit.

“M’sorry, baby. He’s still gonna be a while.” Walking across the room, you stop beside the bed and motion your hand back and forth. “Scooch over.”

Gangly limbs fumble as Janey wiggles into the middle of the mattress, her feet tangling in the blankets. Roosevelt takes a toe to the nose during the transition, but flops across her knees all the same.

Together they settle with a bounce of springs.

In the open space, you slide in.

The bed sinks under your weight, a plume of rich cologne tickling your nose; mint-spiced citrus. Cooper. Your stomach swoops, and your heart trips.

“I didn’t see him at breakfast — or lunch!” A pout tugs at her mouth. “Not even dinner. I gotta go home tomorrow. So when am I gonna see him?”

“Oh, bug.” You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Your dad’s been real busy at work. And I know that’s been hard for you, but I promise to make sure he’s here for breakfast tomorrow.”

“D’you mean it?” Her cold nose digs into your skin. “Me and Roosevelt miss him so much.”

Cuddled into your chest, Janey tosses an arm around your back. Her fuzzy head rests in the crook of your arm, springy curls tickling your skin.

You squeeze her tight and trace your fingertips over her forehead.

“I can do you one better,” you say, bopping the tip of her nose just to hear her giggle - a soft sound that sits warm and gooey in your chest. “I pinkie-promise.”

Her finger loops around yours, so small and fragile.

“I’ll even make pancakes. How’s that sound for a promise?”

“Oh, yes, please! I think Dad will like that,” a wide yawn cuts her off mid-sentence. “He’s sad, but he always smiles when you make food.”

Janey’s words — unexpected as they are sudden — cut so deep it steals the breath from your lungs. You flounder, your heart a throbbing bruise in your chest.

“... Then pancakes it is.”

As if nothing happened at all, she asks, “Do I have to go to bed now?”

“Afraid so, little miss.” Your responding chuckle sounds stilted even to your own ears. “Just you wait. When you wake up, Dad’ll be home.”

“Fi—ine, but I want extra pancakes.” Janey pauses, considers you with narrow eyes, then adds, “With syrup!”

“Whatever you want,” you say with an indulgent smile. “Now... time to sleep. It’s really past your bedtime.”

She gives you one last squeeze then lets you tuck her in nice and tight, blankets pulled up to her chin. You drop a kiss on her forehead while Roosevelt re-settles on the pillow beside her after a quick scratch behind the ears. 

Everything in order, you turn to go only for a little hand to stop you.

“Yes?” you reply, glancing at her from over your shoulder.

“... can you put on one of Dad's movies?”

The tremble in her voice - like she’s about to get scolded - breaks your heart clean down the middle. Stitching on a soft smile, you nod and walk to the darkened TV set in the room's corner.

After fiddling with the nobs, static flashes to life.

“The Man from Deadhorse okay?”

The holotape sliding into the track swallows the sound of her tiny “Yeah.” Starting up with a whirl of machinery, the second-hand Radiation King flickers to life in black-and-white.

A vast plain and bright sky stretches across the screen.

Then Sugarfoot creeps into frame with the one and only Cooper Howard sitting astride the noble steed. The sheriff’s badge on his chest glints in the sun.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, already half-way to sleep.

“Anything for you, baby. Sleep tight.”

Flicking off the lights, you leave the door cracked. Walk away pretending like hearing her whisper goodnight to the TV doesn’t lance through you like lightning.

The desire to whisk her into your arms and soothe all of her ails is almost impossible to ignore.

Somehow, you distract yourself by wiping up the table, then by fixing a plate of dinner for whenever Cooper rolls in. Though all the while, how brokenhearted Janey sounded sits in the back of your mind like a leaden weight.

When Cooper stumbles into the living room, it’s half past midnight.

You’d gotten up to greet him, curled as you were in an armchair reading, when something about the stern line of his mouth gave you pause.

Where the usual lighthearted greetings lingered, a pensive stillness trembled to life.

Tension crackles through the air; a held breath of agitation. By the faraway gaze and defeated slump of his broad shoulders, it’s plain to see the night didn’t go as intended. And no matter how much you long to soothe, you can’t.

After all, he’s not yours to touch.

Instead, you offer a sympathetic smile and ask, “Rough night, huh?”

Cooper ignores the prompt, squeezing past with a brief touch to your elbow as he makes a beeline for the dry bar. The heat of his body is there and gone in a flash, his cologne teasing your senses. He says, “Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Your heart flutters in your throat. “Ah,” you lick your lips, “well, I was going to finish my chapter first.”

Humming, he turns his back to you and fiddles with high balls and decanters. The tink of crystal glassware fills the air as he speculates which alcohol goes best with his mood. 

“Thanks again for watching Janey.” He nods in approval and fixes his whiskey neat. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Mr. Howard.” You shrug. “She’s a sweetheart.”

He shoots you a dry look from over his shoulder, stirring the dark amber of his drink with a forefinger. When he sucks his skin clean with a soft pop - a flash of a pink tongue taunting, teasing - your stomach swoops.

God, I wonder what else his mouth can do.

Flustered, you clear your throat and stare at a spot on the wall.

“How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Coop?” he says, digging through some drawers until he finds what he’s searching for: a lighter. “It must be a million and one by now.”

Flint sparks as flames jump, eating away at the end of a cigarette. Cooper inhales in short little puffs, pulling on the filter. His cheeks hollow, the shadows enhancing the cut of his jaw before the tip catches alight.

“Well,” he exhales, his gaze catching yours through a plume of smoke as he turns, brow raised. “Anything to say for yourself?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” you chuckle.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a lopsided smirk. “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks back the last finger of whiskey before refilling with gin.

Springs groan in protest when he drops to the couch, settling in with an outstretched arm and wide spread thighs.

“It’s been a long fucking day,” he rasps.

Gulping, you try to ignore the space at his feet.

The stirrings of desire provoked by the urge to sink to your knees and fill it with your body, to ease tension from those shoulders with your hands, your mouth, your cunt — if he’d let you.

“You heading home?” Nursing the fresh drink, he swallows a mouthful, only to hiss low through his teeth at the chemical burn. His throat bobs, framed by the open collar of his shirt. “Whew! Goddamn, that’s strong.”

“No, I can stay for a while.” A bird on a wire, you perch on the cushion beside him. “Got nothing else planned for tonight, anyhow.”

Cooper snorts. “I doubt that very much. A sweet young thing like you,” he motions towards you with his glass, “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of fellas calling, especially on a Friday night. Don’t waste your time with me.”

“That’s not why I--” you stop yourself short.

Save for the bustling LA avenue right outside the complex, the apartment itself is stone silent for several heartbeats. Words hover on the back of your tongue, catching in the bend of your throat molasses thick.

Meanwhile, Cooper continues to swirl the alcohol in his glass.

Maybe in a different life, you wouldn’t hesitate to express yourself.

But here — with him — you shouldn’t.

Christ sake, he’s a grieving divorcé, you chastise yourself. The last thing he needs is me trying to lay one on him.

When you speak, his name glides off your lips for the first time, clementine sweet, “... Cooper, I’m not wasting my time. I enjoy spending it with Janey - and you.”

“Well,” he husks, hooded eyes dragging down your visage in a slow once-over, “you’re the first one in a long while to feel that way, sweetheart.”

Dripping like honey whiskey from Cooper’s lips, the simple phrase burns its way down-down-down until it blooms like liquid fire in your belly. Warms you all the way to your toes as your heart pounds against your ribcage.

“I mean it.” Your knuckles twist in the pleats of your sundress, bolts of blue fabric bunched around your knees. “Everything I do is because I want to.”

The flash of red nails plucking at the sheer nylon of your stockings snaps up his attention, his gaze snagging - staying as he chases the curve of your exposed leg, hungry.

He wets his lips, and tenses his jaw when he spots how the soft fat of your thigh dimples in because of your garter. “That’s awful sweet of you to say.”

You tremble beneath the intensity of his attention.

Greedy.

Little kisses of awareness spark bright along the path his eyes carve like the caress of shy fingertips.

However, before you’re able to confront him about his interest, the heat leaches from his expression, grows mute and cold like a muzzled dog. 

Readjusting the waistband of his slacks with a tug, he says, “I know you got better things to do than keep an old man company.”

Irritation sparks. “Cooper--”

“If this is about paying you for tonight,” his lips quirk into a sheepish smile, “I won’t be able to yet.” He scrubs a hand through the stubble peppered along his jaw. “The gig tonight didn’t… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, that’s not what I --”

He plows on, “Anyway, the one I’ve got tomorrow should be enough. How about I stop by around seven o’clock? I’ll treat you to dinner as an apology.”

Frustration bubbles beneath the surface of your skin, antagonism thrumming through your veins. Your hands shake almost as much as your voice. “Cooper!”

“I… uh, yes?” He blinks.

Your brows furrow. “You don’t get it,” you say. “I mean, you truly don’t know?”

“I’m afraid there’s a lot I don’t get. You’re gonna have to be more particular.”

Maybe not said in so many words (or at all) but actions speak far louder.

Otherwise, why else would you spend most of your time in his apartment, fill every spare moment with Janey, and reserve evenings for his company?

Hell, you even cook and clean!

Almost scream your interest from the rooftops, and it’s obvious to everyone but him, it seems.

Here you are thinking he was preserving your dignity whenever he ignored a passing comment or lingering touch when, in fact, he’d been oblivious to their existence to begin with.

How a man can be so obtuse when you’re throwing yourself at him is beyond you.

If he wasn’t so captivating…

“Are you kidding me,” you ask, mindful of your tone, “how could you not know?” You throw your hands in the air. “I’ve been — for months!”

“Well, I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he snarks, setting his glass on the table. “Care to enlighten me?”

Fine. If that’s how he wants to play, let’s play.

When he moves to take another drag from his cigarette, you strike, fingers locking around his wrist mid-lift. And although his glassy eyes narrow, he keeps his hand still.

Waiting to see what you'll do.

Tucking your knee under you for balance, you bend forward and watch his face from beneath your lashes. When your lips wrap around the filter, a dark hunger bleeds into his expression, his pulse a steady thud against the pad of your thumb.

Inhaling, the cherry lights up, a flashbang in the dim overhead light.

Cooper’s breath hitches, and then you’re pulling away with a lungful of smoke; the taste of ash heavy on your tongue.

He tracks your movements with greed, gaze flicking for the briefest of moments past your chin before refocusing on the ring of red lipstick staining white paper.

“If you wanted one,” he chokes, gripping the back of the couch with white knuckles, “all you had to do was ask.”

With a coquettish grin, you exhale to the side and stare at him with hooded eyes. “Is that so?” Plucking the cigarette out of his limp hold, you stub it out in the ashtray. “What if I wanted to ask for something else, Mr. Howard?”

The next moment finds you deposited in his lap, his hands shooting out to grab at your waist only to freeze before they make contact.

“Woah! I--”

“Tell me something.”

Your lips caress the shell of his ear, sharing breath - sharing space as you plaster yourself to his front, arms looped over his shoulders. He jolts, body trembling with restraint.

“Would you give me what I wanted if I said please?”

The distance between you snaps taut with anticipation. “C-Coop,” he stutters. “Call me Coop.”

You hum. “Well, Coop, would you?”

“That depends almost entirely on what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

Red nails skate along the back of his neck, play in the downy soft hair of his nape just to feel him shiver. And then you’re leaning back with your hands braced on his knees, your legs falling open in invitation.

The hem of your dress bunches around your waist, exposing the soft cotton of your underwear, and the darkened patch of slick soaking through.

“I think you know exactly what I want,” you purr. “Because you want it too. Don’t you?”

He bites down on a strangled moan when your hips arch forward, rocking the soft plush of your ass against the heavy weight of his thickening cock. The zipper digs into your skin as he tents the front of his slacks.

Mouth dropping open, his tongue flicks out to wet his lips - a slick circle of temptation that makes you clench. “I, uh, I don’t…”

Reaching between your splayed thighs, you hook a finger beneath your panties and pull the fabric aside. He jerks forward, exhaling hard at the flash of your soaked cunt and twitching clit.

“C’mon, be honest.”

With a sigh, you gather your arousal on the tips of your fingers.

Cooper’s gaze is a heavy weight pinning you in place as you pretend it’s him dragging his knuckles over the top of your mond. Him dragging calloused fingers up along sticky folds to play with your sensitive clit, ripping soft little mewls from your lips.

“Can’t you see what you do to me, Coop?” you say, pulling your hand away to show the webs of slick stretching between your fingers. “I’m so wet. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

His hips rock against your ass in an aborted thrust. “Shit - shit!” Eyes slamming shut, he grits his teeth and digs his fingers into your sides hard enough to bruise. “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

“Why not?” Your hand brushes over his groin. “I can feel how hard you are.”

“It isn’t right, that’s why.” He stutters, stumbles over his words, “Besides, Janey…”

“I can be quiet,” you say, lips trembling. “I promise.”

“Goddamnit, you can’t say things like that and expect me not to --” Cutting himself off, strong fingers seize your chin and tilt until you’re met with Cooper’s severe expression, his scorching gaze. “You need to tell me now: are you sure this is what you want?”

There’s no hesitation, “Yes.”

In what world would you refuse?

The words barely pass your lips before Cooper’s bowing his dark head, mouth ravenous as it captures yours in a slick glide of bruising lips and hungry tongues.

He steals your breath, licks into your mouth and traces along the sensitive inside of your lip.

Pulse jump starting, your toes curl over the edge of the cushion and your thighs squeeze the barrel of his chest, kneecaps digging into his ribs.

“Oh,” a moan punches itself out of your throat - a breathy little thing swallowed up by his lips. “That’s--”

Anticipation swells, simmers between you like a band before it snaps. A strong forearm locks around your waist, tugging you into the cradle of his chest until you’re plastered from stem to stern.

Too hungry for tenderness as his free hand slips up to cup the back of your head, fingers catching in the briar of your hair and tugging at the roots.

You claw at his shoulders while sparks of pain ricochet down your neck, sufficing into a prickly flush that heats your blood. “Hnn, Cooper,” you gasp.

He murmurs your name through languid flicks of his tongue and sharp little nips of skin that leave your mouth tender and swollen. When he pulls away to survey his handiwork, his eyes are dark. Fathomless.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to kiss you like this," he says, wicking his thumb over the pillow of your bottom lip. "You taste as good as I imagined."

Dragging your nails across his scalp, you plead, “No more teasing - I can't take it.”

"Well," he grunts, fingers twisting up in your dress, “If that’s how you feel, then you better put those hips to good use and work for it, sweetheart."

part 2 dropping soon