#first chem trip

[augustinewrites]

idk how i used to do 3 hour chem labs and then go out and drink n socialize right after bcs now after 3 hours of report writing i treat myself with a mandatory chicken nugget happy meal and a nap

[crave-mp3]

hiiii vic how r you <- being tormented by mr kurtis conners dyke potential

hi im alright but now im very intrigued. tell me about kurtis conners dyke potential (<- has a very very vague image of his face akin to a mirage and thats it)

[caninecowboy]

shoutout to the stockroom manger at my college who, unprompted, went "WORK PLACE VIOLENCE" and then "hit" me with a puppy pad miss u bro

[plutoswritingplanet]

Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader)

a/n: as promised, here's the full chapter. as a person who's only played skyrim and oblivion, writing for fallout is like throwing a hot dog into an empty corridor (i will not elaborate)

Warnings: Suggestive Themes, Attempted Kidnapping, Medical Malpractice, Cooper is a mean old man with a boner. Takes place before the events of the TV series.

Summary: The Ghoul takes up a bounty that has been gathering dust for quite some time. You, bored out of your mind, decide getting kidnapped might be the perfect way to entertain yourself. Both of you bite off more than you can chew. Cross-Posted on AO3

PT. 2

Copper knows this job will be different, before he even decides to take it up. 

Scribbled with flaky charcoal, your face looks at him from the notice board every time he delivers a bounty. For months now, a humble title of "The Healer" hangs without change, between criminals, raiders, and people who were in the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

Cooper hasn't considered going for you, it was never his first choice. The bounty on your head was moderately low, in comparison to your notice board neighbors.  He had other priorities, bigger than a smeared over pretty face, for half his usual reward.

Until one day, as he stomped his way through the dusty floor, his eyes caught onto your wanted poster yet again. 

Well, to be frank, his eyes strayed towards your portrait almost every time he crossed the threshold, but he would never admit it to anyone, let alone himself. Like a constant companion, overlooking all his accomplishments since he decided to stick around the place, your empty gaze followed every transaction, every head delivered onto the table. Some semblance of a routine, he supposed, looking over the board. 

 There, under the regular information, freshly painted numbers stared back at him. A new bounty, significantly bigger than any reward on the board. The red paint was still dripping down the yellowed paper, the addition must've been made quite recently. 

A hefty price. One, that would supply him with enough chems to last for half a year at least. Tempting. Especially now, that he's down to only a couple of vials, his coughing fits becoming longer and closer between. So tempting, in fact, that he tears your wanted poster from the board, finally getting a closer look, a deliberate one. 

Booker gives him a raised eyebrow, all the commentary needed, encapsulated in this simple gesture, and Cooper shoots him a nasty look. There aren't many requirements regarding the job, except one, annoying detail. 

You have to be alive and in good condition. 

Now, alive Cooper could do. Alive is easy. Good condition, however, opened a whole shitbag of problems, which he would be a fool to overlook. Still, the prospect of such money couldn't be ignored. And, he'd be damned to admit it, but he was curious. Who were you? Why haven't you been caught for such a long time? What caused this sudden raise in bounty?

- Did you piss someone off that bad, little lady? - he asks the yellowed paper, and gets no answer, as expected. 

***

The bar is filled with patrons, all tripping over themselves to loose as many caps on cheap alcohol and chems from under the table. It's not as rowdy, as one would expect. This settlement must be one of the few more civilized ones, for the Wasteland's standards at least. Farmers, mechanics, shopkeepers, they all clam together, smelling of smoke, sweat, and alcohol. 

You're here too, hunched over your drink with a sour expression. Your shoulders are slumped, covered by a piece of cloth, that used to be a shawl, but currently looks more like a rag used to wipe down countertops. Despite that, Cooper sees in the way your body is poised, taunt and graceful, that you're neither a naive Vault Dweller, nor a scruffy raider. A skinny scarf is tied around your neck in a fashion, that reminds Cooper of the old westerns he used to star in. 

The sudden influx of memories is neither wanted, nor useful, and he clicks his teeth in annoyance at his own betraying mind.

The Healer, he thinks to himself, making his way through the crowds, until he reaches the side of the bar, one seat from you. Not a glance is spared in his direction. The townsfolk must be used to seeing Ghouls run around the place. Still, when he orders a glass of moonshine, out of the corner of his eye, he can see you peaking at him with curiosity. There's a intelligent glint in your eye, and Cooper feels a shiver of curiosity climbing up his back. He scolds himself for being too old imediately after. 

By all that's holy, you look tired. And not the kind of tired, that sticks to a person living in the Wastelands, no. It's the exhaustion of a shitty day, dragging your eyelids down to flutter against creeping up sleep. The alcohol can't be helping your state, however, it will most definitely help Cooper. He almost feels sorry for you, but if your dumb enough to leave yourself in the open like that, while being hunted, there's nothing more he can do but take advantage. 

Cooper turns his face ever so slightly towards you, looking over your expression for any signs of recognition. He sees none, more than that, there is no emotion at all, not even a blink at his fucked up face. Raising his hand, he touches the rim of his hat in a wordless greeting. 

That finally wrenches some resemblance of a reaction out of you, and with a blink, you tip your glass towards him, before downing its contents. Your cheeks are flushed, lips wet with remnants of moonshine and there's a lock of hair falling out of place, and damn it, Cooper suddenly feels so old.

Ordering drinks while in your current state wasn't the most intelligent thing you could've done. The harsh taste of alcohol burned your throat in a way that was less than pleasant, and for a moment you consider turning to some good old chems for help with... Well everything really. 

It started with Old Lady Sal. 

You've replaced her hip a while back with some scrap metal and a fuckload of reused body parts. Now, every other day she demands you check it out, make sure it's in working order. Which it always is. This isn't your first replaced hip, you know what you're doing.

Then, you had to sit through the insanely uncomfortable marriage offer from Old Lady Sal's grandson, who is not only dumb as a bag of rocks, but also fourteen. 

And to top it all off, suddenly everyone needs you to solve their particular pains of the day. There must be an epidemic of aching heads sweeping through the town, because as soon, as you flee from Old Lady Sal's home, you're being hounded by everyone and their mother, looking to you for help. You were in town for two hours, and your herbs reserve went down to one fucking leaf. 

The Ghoul keeps looking at you from under his hat, and at this point it's gotten from uncomfortable, to straight up creepy. You were not about to pretend this stranger's interest in your particular person didn't unnerve you. Although, thanks to your mother's efforts, and later your own, the town practically worshipped the ground you walked on, the same could not be said about the rest of the Wasteland. 

You had enemies. You had people, who would love to get their hands on you. You were also deeply aware of the bounty placed on your person. Last you checked, it was quite small, but Ghouls don't have it easy out there, and if there's anyone looking like a bounty hunter in this fine establishment, it's the shady guy giving you a shameless once-over. 

So, you place a couple of caps on the counter, and gather yourself best you can. 

Perhaps drinking on an empty stomach was not the best idea, because as soon as you slide off the barstool, your head does a flip. Your balance completely off, you trip over your own feet, already accepting the floor, as your soon-to-be companion. 

That's when something strangely warm wraps itself around your waist, hoisting you up against the counter. The Ghoul smells just about as pleasant as one would expect, but moonshine is a powerful sedative, and instinctually, you lean into the warm embrace. Eyelids flutter, as you look up into the sunken eyes of your savior, and you can see his throat move, as he swallows thickly. 

- Careful now, sweetheart - the voice is low and reminds you of wind whistling through leaves - Gotta keep you in good condition.

Now, if you were completely sober, or at least less drunk, those words would fire an orchestra of alarm bells in your head. Instead, you smile, teeth on full display, as you reach up, to undo a tattered scarf from around your neck. 

- Mmm - you sigh, throwing the piece of cloth across the Ghoul's shoulders - My hero. 

Then, you grab onto his arm, still holding a tight grip around your waist, and lift it up by the sleeve of his coat. Despite your drunken disposition, you duck under the limb gracefully, and shoot the Ghoul a nasty, fully aware smirk. Realization flickers across his face, but before he can move to catch you, a series of body-wrecking coughs shakes his entire frame. 

You hesitate just for a second. The instinct to help is ingrained into your very being, passed down like a mantle from your angel of a mother. But then, self-preservation kicks in, and as the strager reaches into the pocket of his coat, to find his inhaler, you're already out the door, throwing yourself into a mad dash towards your cabin.

You were drunk, not stupid. 

***

The sun has barely had time to rise, when you're rudely awoken by the sound of a fist, pounding desperately on your front door. Hard enough to make the hinges squeak and shake. 

It tears you from your already light sleep, and you scramble to your feet, hastily pulling a shirt over your head, as you make your way towards the entrance. Hand on your pistol, you look out through the small space between two planks, which make up your door. 

It's not hard to understand what is happening. You remember one of the men standing outside your door from the nearby town. Benny or something like that, you were never good at remembering names. Hanging on his arm was another, barely breathing man, who was currently bleeding out right onto your porch. Pete. This one you recognize as a farmer and a hunter. You've treated multiple bites and scratches on him. So did your mother. 

Cursing under your breath, you undid all the makeshift locks with record speed, throwing the door open.

- I'm sorry to bother your so early in the morning Healer - you wince at the title, already making a beeline for the table in your kitchen - Pete and I were just...

Both men follow you closely behind, Pete's boots making a disgusting, sloshing noise. 

- Put him here, face up - you command, throwing a couple of papers to the floor.

- ...Coming back from a night hunt, and this fucking Ghoul was asking around town about you...

- Cut his shirt - another command, thrown over your shoulder, as you begin to rummage through a cabinet filled with chemicals and various herbs, barely registering the words. 

- ...And when we started asking questions back at him, he just shot Peter, right then and there...

You pluck a couple of twisted, dried herbs into your trusty, stone mortar, spitting into it, to gather some moisture. Throwing a semi-clean rag at the man, your voice cuts through his rambling.

- Put pressure on it.

There is no exit wound, and you almost sigh with annoyance at the prospect of fishing out a bullet. It had to be done, however, putting your sleep depriation and a building headache aside, you scoop out some of the herbal paste with your fingers, before pushing past the man.

- Hold his legs down - you mutter, taking a blink-and-you-miss-it moment to check Pete's temperature.

- ...Thankfully, he didn't kill Pete on the spot, so I brought him here straight away.

Pete flinches on the table, as you apply the paste to the wound. That's about as big of a reaction he's capable of, given the amount of blood he just spilled onto your porch. Another thing to clean up, after you take care of the table. What a way to start a fucking day. You can see his eyes follow your movements, barely conscious, but still alive. Sweat beads and gathers at his brow, and you reach out with a clean rag, to dab it off his skin.

Then, as if coming out of a stupor, your eyebrows scrunch together. The story of this faithful encounter finally registering in your brain. 

- A man was asking about me? - you ask, despite already knowing the answer. 

- Well, kinda. A Ghoul. 

You knew which Ghoul, it was not difficult to piece together. 

- And he didn't kill Pete, just injured him - you can feel another headache brewing just behind your eyes, as the sheer stupidity of the man in front of you finally comes to the surface.

They led him to you. 

Three, steady knocks to your door, smug and confident, interrupt the conversation, and deep down you can see the future of every person present in this cabin. As if you've developed some magical powers. 

Stilling your suddenly trembing hands, you settle the mortar back on the table. Thenyou instruct the man to keep pressure once more. Covering yourself with a robe you got as payment for stitching up a sliced finger, you make your way to the door. Fabric flows around your feet, shuffling like the wings of a moth. 

Your eyes flicker to the side, where, placed against a wall, stands a small end table. Under it, you've hidden a rather large kitchen knife, and for a second you debate, whether going for it now would be the best course of action. Call it dumb optimism, but deep down, you pray this is some big misunderstanding, and you'll be allowed to go back to your patient, preferably sooner than later. 

There's no need to bother with a gun, no time too. Pete is bleeding out faster than a stuck pig, and you were not one to leave your customers unsatisfied. Or, in this particular line of work, dead. 

The door opens with a slam. There's a small indent in the wooden wall, where the door handle has hit the surface.  The cabin is slowly entering the state of ruin, although, some places are more taken care of than others. Still, it has a roof, a semi intact entrance and even a window with actual glass in it. Quite the luxury in the Wastelands. 

Cooper didn't know what to expect, not really. Seeing you for the first time gave him a mixture of varying feelings, as well as a rather uncomfortable throbbing in the nether regions. Who could blame him, really? Your wanted poster gave you no favors, and although he was able to recognize you almost immediately, he still felt slightly short of breath.

He scolds himself for getting distracted by his thoughts, and as your eyes lock down on him, he lifts the barrel of his gun, touching the rim of his hat. Your eyes shift like little sparkling gems onto the weapon, before your jaw locks.

- Salutations Ma'am - his voice is rough from lack of use, the southern twang even more prominent, than usual. - I believe our introduction was cut short.

Yellowed teeth flash in a mirthless smirk, and then his expression tightens.

Cooper is used to people reacting, let's say, negatively towards him. Fear is the most common, and he can't blame the masses, he really can't. Disgust, as well, happens quite often. But as he looks over your feverish gaze, he can't really see either one of the emotions. 

No, what you give him is an annoyed roll of your eyes, and he's surprised to say, it bothers him more than he'd be comfortable admitting. He's a goddamned bounty hunter, a ruthless one at that, and a fucking Ghoul. Fuck you mean, you're annoyed by his presence?

- Look - you're already turning away from him, shooting a look towards your kitchen, where he can see a leg twitch in a spasm on top of your table - I ain't got time for whatever this is - your hands wave around in Cooper's general direction. - You'll have to wait your turn.

- Ah, well, I'm not the patient kind.

A squeak of surprise leaves you, as the Ghoul pushes past your body, entering your house gun first, murder clear in his deep set eyes. His steps take him through your living room, dangerously close to your kitchen. You know exactly, what's going to happen, and your arms shoot out on instinct. His body is unnaturally warm, even through layers of clothing, as you wrap yourself around his waist, tugging him back with all your might.

 He looks down on you, more bothered by the sudden contact, than the fact you're trying to stop him. It gives you a small leverage, and you push him back a couple of steps, settling yourself between the entrance to the kitchen, and the bounty hunter, raising your hands and getting ready to fight. 

- I don't have time for this kinda bullshit. Git. - Cooper snarls at you, his gun-free hand coming up to grab at your hair.

Before you have time to react, five fingers twist hard into your roots, and you stifle a scream, as the Ghoul pushes you off of him. On instinct, your hands come up to tug against his wrist, nails digging into the leathery skin. He lets you go with a hiss, and you use that second, to throw yourself towards the end-table. 

Your fingers find the handle with a practiced ease. Then, your body twists like a radioactive viper, and all Cooper sees is a flash of metal. The blade is rusty and chipped, but it could still do some damage. Especially now, that it's pressed against Cooper's jugular, the dull, cold presence halting all his movements. Your eyebrows raise in small recognition at the thin fabric tied around his neck. The scarf. Your mouth goes dry.

- Everything okay back there? - Benny asks from the kitchen, you can hear his approaching footsteps.

- All's well, kee pressure on the wound - your voice is tight with nerves, but the man obeys. 

Cooper watches your face carefully, his gun tucked neatly into the meat of your stomach, ready to fire, should the situation escalate. You can feel it, pressed right into the hollow space under your spleen, a good place to be shot, if you could even say that. You're dealing with a professional, apparently. 

- We seem to have a bit of a conundrum on our hands, little lady - Cooper drawls, voice bordering on a whisper, his eyes follow the way your tongue darts out to lick your chapped lips. 

- I have a patient, he needs help - you explain in an even tone, breathing shallow - After that, I'll deal with you.

Despite being at a loosing position, you refuse to back down, your eyes glued to the Ghoul in front of you. You're bracing yourself for the imminent pain, should he decide shooting you would be easier, but it never comes. Instead, the barrel of the gun presses further into your flesh, before lightly retracting. The cold metal is dragged up, across the expanse of your stomach. You bite the inside of your cheek, and surpress a shiver, when it travels between the swell of your breast, and settles into the dip of your collarbones. 

You swallow thickly, Cooper's eyes catching the movements of your trachea like a hungry vulture. The tip of the gun touches the underside of your chin, pushing your head to one side, then the other, as if the bounty hunter is taking inventory in a butcher's shop. Once he's had his fill, he lifts the gun completely, raising his hands as a peace offering.

- Git - you whisper back at him, and a flash of something rushes through his mangled expression. 

You take a step back, chest rising in falling rapidly, blade still in front of you, just in case. Then another step, and the bounty hunter dusts off his coat, before sitting down on a stool in your cluttered living room. You don't like the way he looks at you, eyes shining from under his hat, as he occupies your space like it belongs to him. Long legs apread in front of him, and you try very hard not to sneak a peak between them. Finally, you cross the entrance to the kitchen, and the knife is tucked under the leather belt of your pants. 

A sigh, a roll of shoulders, and you're off.

Cooper watches with curiosity, as you immediately start to work on the poor bastard stuck on your table. Your back is taunt, hands bloodied but steady, as you lean down to take the metal bullet out of the wound. The herbal paste you've provided earlier has dried up, and is currently working wonders for the bleeding, while you reach inside with not-so-sterile pliers. 

- Hold him down - he hears you say, as the legs on the table start to twitch again. 

Finally, a metallic sound of the bullet hitting a dish is heard, and you stand up, making your way towards the cabinet filled with chems. There is a grace to your movements Cooper wasn't expecting. Reminds him of dancers, ballet ones. 

Back in the day, his ex-wife would drag him to all those ballet shows, ones that made him feel stupid and uncultured. He swallows around the memory, willing it to die down, as you shoot him a cautious look over your shoulders. 

He wiggles his gun at you lightly, a reminder, that all this is happening because of his good humor. You scoff. 

Pete starts screaming as soon, as you begin to dress the wound properly. Chemical smell fills the air, and although Cooper lacks the nose to feel it, his eyes water all the same. You seem to be unbothered, years of doing this exact job must've hardened your senses. Finally, it's done. There's nothing more you can do for the man, and you wipe your hand on your forehead, leaving a large smear of red.

- He'll be fine - you mutter towards the other man in the kitchen - He needs rest, and a loads of it too. 

A couple of small bottles and dried herbs land onto a checkered cloth, and you tie it closed, like a small care package. 

- Dress his wounds twice a day - you press the package into the other man's hands while he helps his partner off the table - Good luck. 

Cooper glares at the men, as they stagger out the front door. They don't seem to pay him any mind. Well, the shot one definitely doesn't, he can barely walk on his own. His friend is too preoccupied with keeping him on his arm, to even acknowledge that this whole situation was orchestrated by Cooper himself. Or perhaps, he's to stupid to connect the dots. It's hard to tell these days. 

The door closes with a click, and Cooper stands up from his stool, sauntering over to the kitchen. 

You're currently trying to wash blood off of your hands, which are stained crimson almost up to your elbows. It goes about as well as expected, and as you dry your arms with a rag, there's still a pinkish stain to your skin. 

The table is a mess, blood and herbs seeping into the wooden planks which make up the surface. Cooper leans against the doorframe, as he watches you splash some chemicals onto the wood. It bubbles up in a disgusting mixture of red, green and yellow. You let it sizzle for a moment, before taking that same bowl of water you've been using to clean up, and dumping it all onto the table. The mixture flows down to the floor, the residing surface looking much cleaner. 

- Now, as much as I'd love to sit around and play house with you, honey - Cooper starts, and has to clear his throat, when you look up at him wordlessly, blood on your face and fire in your eyes - I have a bounty to collect.

Sighing, you push your hair back from your forehead, exhaustion, which is synonymous with living in the Wastelands seeping off of you like a tidal wave. 

- Do you have a name? - you ask, reaching for a leather bag sitting on one of the chairs. 

- I do - he says, and you roll your eyes at the deliberate lack of information his answer has given you. 

You mutter something that sounds scarily close to "asshole", and begin to chuck a couple of vials into the bag, then some herbs, then a water canteen. It's like you're ready to move out at any time, and a sneaking suspicion arises in Cooper's mind. This isn't the first time you're in this situation, if your calm demeanor is anything to go by. Suspicious, highly so, and as you turn around to face him, Cooper raises his hand ever so slightly. 

Your eyes fall onto the bundle of rope in his grip, eyebrow raising in annoyance. 

- You serious? 

- As a funeral, sweetheart - he sways the bundle lighty, his other hand pointing the gun at your abdoment - Now, are you going to be good, and come over here? Or should I come over there and make it unpleasant for us both?

- You're already making it unpleasant - you mutter, but cross the kitchen towards him, raising your hands, palms up. 

- Wait. 

Confusion hits you, when the Ghoul reaches into his pocket, producing a small piece of torn cloth. Your entire body goes still, as he grabs onto your chin, cold metal of his gun digging into your cheek, the barrel settling into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. Then, despite your best efforts at freeing yourself from his grip, he brings the cloth to his lips, wetting the fabric with his tongue. 

The bloody smear on your forehead is wiped down rather roughly, and you twist in place like an impatient toddler, when Cooper leans his head back, to look at his handywork. You shiver with disgust, at the feeling of his drying saliva on your skin, and as soon, as he lets you go, you begin to rub at your forehead with the sleeve of your robe. 

- Good condition - he rasps, and if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under.

He gives you a nasty smirk, settling his gun down for just a moment, and grabbing your wrists together, so he can tie them up. Which is all the time you need to make a decision, and kick out your knee, nailing him right in the crotch. He doubles over, cursing loudly, hands shooting out to grab you, but all he catches is your tattered robe, which you slide out of easily. 

Fater than he would've anticipated, you grab at your bag, and bolt to the back of the kitchen, where he watches you jump over the table and all but slide out of the house through an open window. It's like a choreographed dance, the way you move out of his grasp. When he reaches the window himself, there's no sight of you, other than the rustling of tree branches somewhere in the woods behind your cabin. 

- Fucking women. - Cooper whistles.

He can't deny the shiver of excitement running down his back, as he secures the hat over his eyes.  If that's how you want to play, he would oblidge. It's been far too long since he could actually enjoy a more challenging bounty. Cooper slowly walks out of your cabin, looking over all the little trinkets you've gathered inside. Then, almost lazily, he lifts the robe you've left him to his nose. He feels nothing, of course, but he has quite a vivid imagination. Vivid enough to supply him with a memory of a scent from his past life. Lavender, he'd bet you smell like lavender. 

Your tracks are deep and visible across the ground, and so, the hunt begins. 

[eupheme]

— common ground [into the fire, part iii]

part i | part ii | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, pwp, sex for favors, 1 spank, sub/dom elements, light degradation, use of chems, shotgunning chems, riding, PiV, canon-typical violence and death

a/n: the scene where he complained about doing all the work had me like 👀 (reimagining), so here we go! 💖

“S’that right? Need me to fuck you? Fill up that greedy little cunt?”

His head tipping back as he hums, as if disappointed. Each word exaggerated, with his slow drawl, “Well, I’d sure like to sweetheart… but it seems to me like I’ve been doing an awful lot of work around here.”

“Findin’ this place. Cleanin’ it out. Gettin’ you clothes.” A sigh, before his voice drops, “Makin’ you come.”

“Think you oughta return the favor, don’t you?”

(Or - you take the Ghoul for a ride)

"Fuck!”

You crouch outside as another loud shotgun blast fires - the wooden door next to you peppering with bullets.

This wasn't what you had in mind.

You had thought you'd find a chem station in the next town. A pharmacy, an old hospital. Something somewhat respectable - not standing watch as the Ghoul blew his way through a long-abandoned two-story home.

The layered yelling dies off with each pull of his trigger, until everything going silent.

He finds you there a moment later, still curled in on yourself. A roll of his eyes when he sees you - still unused to the violence.

"It's clear." The Ghoul beckons, "Let's find that station."

You follow him inside, your gaze boring a hole into his back. Trying hard not to look down, nose wrinkling when you almost trip over a set of legs that sprawl across the floor.

A hand pinches at your elbow, keeping you upright.

"What?" He asks, at your expression.

"Did you have to..." You start, as he checks down the hallway.

It's empty - the doors leading to two bedrooms. The bed frames bare and rusted, the rooms already picked through.

A shrug, "They shot first."

"You goaded them."

You could hear him, even from outside. That knowing tone - some kind of warning. A rough laugh, and then the firefight had started.

"We're looking for a chem station, sweetheart." He scoffs, head cocking as he backs you up against the door he just closed, "Think they're gonna share with you like you’re on a goddamn play date?"

"They-" You blink up at him, "They might have."

He clicks his tongue, giving you a long look,"You still got a lot to learn, Vaultie."

A second, before he steps away.

"These weren't those kind of people."

You find it in the basement. A man slumped just outside the cracked-open door, the weathered lab coat stained and splattered red on the left-hand side.

Anything salvageable from above must have been brought down here. Three threadbare mattresses behind a makeshift wall. A long couch that faces a television that still runs, the picture blurry with static.

The station sits along the back wall. A beaker still bubbles over the burner, the smell acrid. Bottles litter the surface - something being made in a batch.

Your mind is already racing ahead, eyes scanning for things you'll need. Too-large gloves shoved on, disposing of the burnt mixture while you search for an empty glass.

Missing how he angles the couch to watch, feet propped up on the wooden coffee table. That ever-steady wariness waning with your focus, the tension in his shoulders easing as he sinks into the cushion.

You're too busy to notice. Sorting the different ingredients, littered across the counter.

There's an excess of toxic soot flowers, their petals papery between your fingers. Opened packages of Med-X, a spilled pile of Buffout. A jar of acid.  

Psycho. Cut with something else, something stronger. You think the Ghoul was right - maybe you had been foolish to underestimate them.

You try to shake the thought away, as you gather what you need. Antiseptic, from your own bag. Three jars of glowing fungus, found beneath the sagging counter. Ground up and tipped into a dusty beaker, the heat turned down low.

"Can you get me some water?" You call from over your shoulder, a jar held in your hand.

There's no answer. Silence, until something hard presses into your back, pinning you against the table.

It feels familiar, the way his hips nudge against yours, and it sends your mind back. An urge to arch - bend low. Mimicking the days before, where you can still feel the twinge of him with the stretch of your thighs.

"You think you're callin' the shots now, sweetheart?" His voice is low, the brim of his hat brushing your head as he leans over your shoulder.

"No," You squeak - caught off-guard, "I just-, I can't leave this until it thickens."

"Mm.” His hum is low. “Too bad. Would've liked to see you try.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks at his words, that rough drawl, even after the last couple days. A thin layer of suggestion in his tone, as he shifts closer - his chest bumping into your back.

Your mind flickering through possibilities, before his voice cuts through.

“Said you need water?”

"Yes. Please," The nod you give is small - you have to start your stirring over, losing your rhythm, "I saw a few cartons in the kitchen. If you don't mind."

"Polite little thing, when you're distracted," He husks, "I'll have to remember that."

The Ghoul makes no effort to move, though. Fingers wrapping around the glass. His other hand gripping the edge of the table, boxing you in. You wonder if he can hear the way your heart thuds in your chest, eyes fixed firmly on your work.

“Where’d you learn to do this?”

It takes you a second to answer - he’d had never offered many questions. Responses that were no more than a couple of words, over the stretch of long hours on the road.

“Uh, my Vault. We were short on hands, my mother was a chemist.” Your words are slow - a still-painful topic, “Used to make all kinds of stuff. Medicine and… and chems, alike.”

People who left were always brought back. Dazed and half-sick from the world above, whatever they had seen. Left at your doorstep to be patched up, if they made it that long.

You always told yourself that wouldn’t be you.

That when you were gone, you’d stay that way.

“Hm.” His tone flattens, “Wouldn’t have guessed. Don’t seem the type.”

“Yeah?” You head turns, catching his shadowed ones. Leaning into the welcome diversion, “What type do I seem like, then?”

The Ghoul’s eyes narrow, an unconscious flick down to your mouth.

“Trouble.” He husks, with a shallow roll of his hips. You can’t help the short inhale that he’s certain to hear, the way your fingers tighten around your instruments.

“Though I’m still workin’ out what kind.”

It’s there that he leaves you. Flustered and silently revisiting evenings before, a familiar anticipation curling low inside you.

The steps creak behind you as he slips upstairs. Returning some time later with what you need - twirling a dented pot found in the kitchen, so you can purify it. Folding himself onto the couch when you tell him it will be a while.

A cut glass decanter salvaged as well, that he drinks directly from. A rough gasp as the bitter alcohol floods through him. Helping himself to the chems that litter the tabletop - before his feet kick up, the hat tipped low over his face.

You think he does rest - a rarity.

You examine him then - as you wait for the water to boil, and then cool, before you can use it to mix with the other components.

Taking the rare chance to do it freely.

In the Wasteland you’ve learned to stay cautious. That you can’t fall behind. That surely he would notice, if your gaze lingered on him for too long.

But here, time seems to slow for a moment. Nothing to do but wait, as your fingers drift to your neck. Pressing into the bruise, as if you could feel the indents of his teeth.

His presence feels the same.

A mark left on you. Something you can’t help but want to touch, even if it aches. A reminder that lingers, and there’s a part of you that wishes it would stay.

It has you wondering, as your eyes sweep across him. Over the long-faded clothes, hiding rough and reddened skin - every inch of him wrapped away.

If you got close enough-

Would you find that he bore a mark of his own?

You make enough for a little over two weeks. Carefully poured and sealed into a variety of small bottles and tubes you’ve scavenged, scraping out every last bit that you can.

In the less-than-stellar conditions, it didn’t turn out so bad. The vials you had seen him buy was a thin, piss-yellow that had made you cringe. Poor work to begin with, and that was even before it was cut with more water.

What you offer out to him is thick - a sheen clinging to the glass as it sloshes, when it passes from your hand to his.

Liquid gold, in comparison.

“Mm.” The Ghoul hums - eyes greedy, as he examines, holding it up to the bit of light.

Before they’re focusing on you. Flickering from head to toe - considering - before his legs spread a bit wider. A hand clapping down against a thigh.

The look you give him is blank. A squeak when his fingers hook around one of your belt loops and pulls - hauling you onto his lap.

“You think I’m just gonna take somethin’ you cooked up?” His brow lifts, hands pinching against your hips, “Not a chance, sweetie. I think we oughta try this together.”

The Ghoul’s fingers slip up then, rucking up the hem of your shirt. His tone turning knowing.

“And I don’t think you’ve got enough in you.”

Your cheeks burn at his insinuation. More than aware, your breath catching as the rough tips of his leather gloves drag across your skin.

“Bet I’ve been leakin’ out of you since last time.” The Ghoul rasps, “Wouldn’t want to waste this, would we?”

He’s solid beneath you. Your thighs splitting on either side of his waist, knees digging into old cushions. Close enough to kiss - if you weren’t so certain he’d bite.

Lost though, on how to proceed. You don’t know the rules to his game. Always keeping you at arms-length - wrists bound, caught in his grip.

Would he let you touch him?

He mistakes your hesitance, his brow pinching.

“Spent enough time starin’. Lookin’ like you wanted to take a ride.” Acid slips into his tone, teeth bared, “Change your mind, now you’ve got a front row seat?”

That knocks you out of your thoughts - embarrassed that you were caught staring at him. Annoyed by his assumption. A scoff, as your hips start to move, a slow roll. Hands coming up to rest against his shoulders, meeting his eyes.

They’re pretty, like the rest of him. Shades of light brown - looking like they’re caught the sun, even underground. Thick lashes, above the deep hollow of sunken eye sockets, the split cavern of his missing nose.

Something that had startled you, the first time you saw him. Now, you hardly even notice. And his mouth -

“I’m not scared of you.” You murmur, watching the way his lip curls in a sneer. A soft sound bitten back as you grind down, feeling how he’s stiff beneath you.

You wonder how long he’s been this way. Hard, from watching you work. Waiting.

Another exchange, though you wish you could tell him it doesn’t have to be that way. You had meant what you said, when you had made your offer - even if you mean it a little differently, now.

Maybe you still could.

“You should be,” The Ghoul growls - hands ghosting over your sides, up to the thin cotton, “If you had any goddamn sense. Letting me touch you like this-”

A hand is cupping your breast now. A hard swipe of his thumb against your stiff peak, your fingers biting down into his jacket.

Your hips jerk against his. A soft moan, when the seam of your pants catches against your clit - leaving you clenching around nothing.

“I want you to.” You confess - catching the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, “Told you, whatever you want.”

The Ghoul makes a rough sound in his throat, watching as you tug the cups down to fit beneath your breasts, putting yourself on display for him.

“Haven’t learned, have you?” He warns, his voice low, “Don’t make an offer you can’t follow through on.”

The pinch of his fingers sends an ache down to settle between your thighs, the hint of pain pairing with your pleasure.

Your own hand wandering, wanting to see more. Sliding against a leather vest, the stained shirt beneath that was once as blue as your suit. Frayed, looping embroidery on the faded collar.

Feeling the warmth of his skin as you tug at the snap at his throat. An inch, and then another, before he’s catching your hand.

Dragging it up to his shoulders, fixing you with a look, “You best keep those right here.”

“You don’t want me to touch you?” You ask, eyes flicking down to the peek of skin at his throat.

“I want these off.” He tells you instead, snapping the waistband of your pants against skin.

You have to leave him to do it. Watching the way his arms stretch across the back of the sofa, as you kick the pants off, then your underwear beneath.

Bare again, as you settle. Fitting yourself against the curve of his cock. Leather and metal kissing your skin as you move against him, until his lips are parted with a ragged breath.

You can feel your muscles clench. The slick slide of your pussy against his bulge, barely nudging at that deep-seated ache to be filled.

“Makin’ a mess, sweetheart.” He husks, his hips lifting to meet yours. Gloved hands moving to curl around your waist - pulling you down to meet him, coaxing a lazy rhythm from you.

“Rubbin’ up against me like a bitch in heat. Should make you clean that up.”

It coaxes a whine from you, as you let him move you. The sound does something to you - the layered approval in his tone, the low rasp of his voice. Not so unaffected as he seems, with how hard he is beneath you.

He must see it in your expression, a hand leaving the couch to grasp at your chin. Flexing up and into you, letting you feel the hard ridge of him.

“This what you want, sweetheart?”

Making you meet his gaze, as you answer. All dark eyes and the flash of teeth, under the brim of his hat.

“Yes.” You keen, “I need you, please-”

“S’that right? Need me to fuck you? Fill up that greedy little cunt?”

His head tipping back as he hums, as if disappointed. Each word exaggerated, with his slow drawl, “Well, I’d sure like to sweetheart… but it seems to me like I’ve been doing an awful lot of work around here.”

The hand leaves your chin to drop down. Slowly loosening a belt buckle, letting it pool on the cushions. Your cheeks heating when you see the slick shine to the front of his pants, where you’ve rutted yourself against him.

“Findin’ this place. Cleanin’ it out,” His eyes are on yours - your breath short as he tugs the zipper down. “Gettin’ you clothes.”

A sigh, before his voice drops, “Makin’ you come.”

You moan at that, a soft sound caught behind your teeth - fingers pinching into his shoulders.

Waiting for him to draw his cock out - fist wrapped around the base. Flushed and thick in his palm, inches away from where you need him.

The Ghoul does grin then, a wicked thing that shows his teeth.

“Think you oughta return the favor, don’t you?”

He’s giving you an inch - seeing if you’ll try to take a mile. A firm handle, still wrapped around a fist, but loosening the reins.

Letting himself watch.

“Seems fair.” You manage, breathless.

“Then go on,” He husks, “Show me how you can take it.”

Your hand reaches down, but then he’s clicking his tongue - fingers fixing back on his shoulders.

Leaving you to lift your hips. His cock slipping against your slick core, your teeth biting into your lip as you line yourself up - the rough head catching at your entrance.

It’s different this time. Sinking down on him, feeling each inch as it splits you open - instead of suddenly filling you to the hilt.

“Fuck,” You sigh, with the stretch. It twinges deep inside you, where his hips fit against yours.

Lifting yourself only to sink back down, his arms flexing beneath his coat as he lets you ride him, your pace slowly picking up until you’re bouncing on his cock.

As much as you enjoyed last time, there was something about this. Fully able to watch the way his lips part, hear the rattling groan when you tighten around him.

See the way his eyes skate across the bruise on your neck, only to drop down to watch the sway of your tits as your fingers lace behind his neck.

“Goddamn, sweetheart.” His hand flattens against the small of your back. The other gripping your hip, tugging you towards him, “You sure know how to ride.”

Not giving you time to answer, before his head is dipping. The brim of his hat knocking back when it hits your chin - the tips of your fingers just catching it. Slipping it on your own head for safekeeping before he can protest.

It earns you a sharp nip against the curve of your breast, before his lips close around the tight peak of a nipple and sucks.

You cry out, chasing the pressure that builds in your belly. Growing even more wet with the slick swirl of his tongue and the scrape of teeth - his cock grinding against a spongy spot inside you as you arch into his mouth.

“Please,” You whine, fingers flexing and then curling. Needing more friction against your clit, where your heartbeat has dropped and settled.

Trying so hard to listen, a whine between your gritted teeth. Your tits glossy with spit when he leans back, giving you a knowing look.

“You wanna come?” He husks - his eyes dropping, as you nod, “Only if you lean back and show me, sweetheart.”

Relief sings in you, as you adjust. Thighs spreading, as you grip onto his shoulder. Leaning back until he can watch the way he spears into you. How he shines, all slicked up, with each roll of your hips.

Your other hand loses its grip in his coat to slip down, press where your bodies meet.

Fingertips circle, a low moan at the much-needed touch. Your rhythm grows sloppy until his hands hook beneath your thighs. Guiding you into a harsh rhythm, each pound of his cock winding you higher and higher as the couch creaks beneath you.

“Come on, cowpoke.” He rasps, his hand cracking down against your ass, “Is that the best you can do?”

It builds - your fingers pressing harder against the slick bud. Whimpered noises that are more sound than words, as his thighs spread, feet planting so he can drive up into you.

“I said come on.” He growls, “Wanna feel you come on my cock again.”

Like before, it feels like the control slips through your fingers. Your own touch brings you close to that edge, but it’s the pounding of his cock that makes you fall.

Your back arching, crying out as your core clenches. Pleasure bursting deep inside you, racing up your spine and down to the tips of your fingers and pointed toes.

The quick thrust slowa into a lazy grind. A low “atta girl” that he grits out, as he feels the way you come hard around him.

Eyes dropping from your face to watch the greedy press of your fingers as you draw it out - until his own hand is wrapping around your wrist.

Tugging your hand away as the pleasure still courses inside you, hips still chasing the last ripples as you ride his cock.

Bringing your fingers to his mouth. Fitting them against teeth and tongue as his lips close around, tasting the slick that clings to them.

It makes goosebumps raise on your skin. The briefest thrill of fear. Certain that if you pulled your fingers free right now, the flesh and muscle would peel from you - leaving only bones behind.

He groans loudly around them, teeth indenting your skin. Tongue swirling against your knuckles, his hips rocking up to meet yours.

Freeing you, only to grasp at your hips - urging you to move faster. A loud slap of skin until his jaw is clenching - and he’s bringing you down once more against him with a rough sound.

Coming inside you again, but this time you get to see the way his head tips back with his snarl. How his fingers bite into your skin as you feel him throb - throat bared as he spills deep inside you with each rough jerk of his hips.

A flare of something flicking to life in your belly, knowing you did this to him. The groan he made when he tasted you echoing in your mind, giving you something to keep.

You make to move when he goes still, but a hand grips at your hip - holding you in place. Keeping you full of him, as the afterglow still glitters in your veins.

His eyes are dark, fixed on you. Taking in your shadowed, half-lidded gaze - sweat-dewed and bare skinned against him. His hat, still perched on your head. Looking like it belongs there.

A hand digs around in his bag. Pulling out the inhaler for his serum. Snapping it together without his gaze leaving you.

Bringing it to his mouth after - sucking in a deep, held breath. Those eyes closing with a low, contented groan.

A broad hand slips from your hip to splay across the back of your neck, fingers digging into your throat. Pulling you down to him - just as his head tilts to press his lips against yours.

Just as you soften, he exhales - the RadAway flooding through your parted lips. A stinging, metallic taste of iodine that makes you shudder, before you realize he’s deepening the kiss.

You lean into it without thought. The ache in your gums fading with the brush of his tongue. His grip anchoring you in place as he takes, licking into your mouth while his cock still fills you.

Leaving you breathless. Letting him, as your own arms wrap around his shoulders to keep him close. Meeting the messy scrape of teeth and swirl of tongue. The sharp taste fading, layered with the whisky and a hint of you that still lingers.

Before he’s pulling back far too soon, eyes dark as he pants.

“Fuck.” He rasps - his tongue tasting where yours had been, flicking across a lower lip. Before he’s looking at the inhaler - shaking it for another use.

“Looks like I might just have to keep you around.”

You make what you can with the rest of the supplies afterward - waste not, want not. An extra stimpak. Swiping the rest of the mentats, keeping the grape and berry ones for yourself. Refilling your canteen with more of the purified water.

The rest of the chems you gather - packing them in a tin. Tossing them his way, a low whistle when he sees what’s inside.

It’s late enough that the Ghoul decides it’s best to stay here, and leave at dawn. Certain that he will catch up to the bounty tomorrow, already sure of two places where he might be offloading the stolen wares.

You don’t mind. The uneasy thought of sleeping in a house with corpses quickly overshadowed by the real mattresses waiting in the basement. Stained but there’s still bedding - patched up blankets.

A fire, that he coaxes to life in the fireplace upstairs. Dinner, roasting over it.

It almost feels like something. A moment you can play pretend - that these walls will keep you safe.

That maybe you could clean it up.

That maybe he didn’t despise you, and maybe he’d want to stay.

It’s a foolish thought, a sigh as you push it from you. Digging a spoon into the rusted can of Pork ‘N Beans you had scavenged - not trusting the look of the skewer he had been tending.

A thumb running across your lower lip, as you chew. Remember how his had felt. Examining the angry marks pressed into your knuckles. 

His shadow crosses over you, then - you have to crane your neck up to see him. His hat back where it belongs, much like your own clothes.

The tilt of his head, as he considers you again. Before his hand is slipping into the bag that slings across his shoulder.

Gloved fingers curling around something - tossing it silently into your lap, before he’s disappearing upstairs to finish his sweep of the house.

It’s golden, in the light of the fireplace. Seems like he’s already done a little looting of his own. A rolled up bag, the tube and needle tucked inside.

And a bottle of the RadAway you made for him.

save a horse, ride a cowboy and all that 🤠💖 (thank you so much for reading! would love to know what you thought if you enjoyed!)

[roseghoul26]

König x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After a long day, König offers some much-needed “stress relief”. Tags: Title From A Sabrina Carpenter Song, Bed Chem - Sabrina Carpenter, Edging, Not Beta Read, Fem Pronouns For Reader, Bit Of A Size Kink, Porn No Plot, Vibrators, Fingering, Cunnilingus, König Lifts His Mask The Tiniest Amount To Eat You Out, Scar Kink(?), Is That Even A Thing, Doggystyle, Safe Sex, German Is A Fun Language, Kissing, Cuddling Author's Note: My four-and-a-half years of German classes are finally coming into use (but I’m nowhere near fluent, so correct my mistakes lol). Also contains descriptions of what I imagine König to look like. Everyone is free to their own interpretation. Also I'm like a year too late for this but whatever lol and this one is just pure porn guys, so... do with that what you will Explicit content, minors DNI

You felt ridiculous. 

Desperate. Anxious. Ridiculous.

Pacing across your small room didn’t help, your frenzied state unending. Anxiety hammered your heart, your stomach twisted in knots, and your hands ached from tensing them so much. Your breathing wasn’t much better, coming and going in quick huffs of air; you felt like you were going to pass out. 

You were a goddamn soldier, a ruthless mercenary; you shouldn’t be acting this way. You’d faced down the worst of humanity and came out victorious; the idea of König coming to your room shouldn’t render you so… timid. 

You’re not sure why you took König up on his offer for “stress relief”. He’d seen how tense you were all day around the base, the reason for that feeling long since forgotten, your words clipped, muscles tensed. It wasn’t an unusual emotion for you, but he’d never offered his assistance. 

Until today. You weren’t quite sure what changed.

A shiver went down your spine when you remembered his voice as he whispered, large frame pressed up close against yours, but not close enough to touch. “Let me help you, Schatz,” he’d said, and you were certain if you could see his face, there’d be a smirk on his lips. You wondered if he knew how you felt about him. 

Desperate to be rid of the tension in your body, and desperate for him, you’d agreed. It wasn’t until you’d reached your room that it sunk in, what you’d agreed to. It wasn’t that you regretted it, far from it, but now your stress levels were even higher than they were before. 

You wouldn’t lie and say that you hadn’t hoped that something like this would happen. You’d had the biggest crush, which sounded so juvenile for someone like you, on him since the moment you’d signed on with KorTac a few years ago. 

And how could you not? He was tall, almost intimidatingly so, with a broad build to match. And the muscles weren’t all for show, just as deadly with his body as he was with his weapons out on the field. You remember the first time you’d watched him take down someone with his hands, a memory that had ingrained itself into your dirtiest dreams. 

As for the rest of his appearance, you weren’t quite sure. He’d never taken off his “mask” (a shirt, you’d later come to find out) in front of you, even when on jobs together. You never pried, though, respecting his need for privacy. And besides, you didn’t have to see his face to know that he was the most stunning person you’d ever met. His eyes, baby blue, yet torturously haunted, were all that you needed to see to confirm that. After years of only seeing them, you’d gotten good at reading them like you would facial expressions. 

Too caught up in your thoughts, you nearly tripped as your foot caught on the edge of your bed, a small, dingy thing. A mix of a sigh and groan left you, as well as a soft curse as you shook your hurt foot. Glancing at the small LED clock beside your bed, the time read 9:26.

König hadn’t given you a time when you asked, only a teasing, “Tonight.” Which meant, that at any moment, you’d hear him knocking on your door.

Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe this was all a joke, a cruel one at that. Maybe he knew about your infatuation with him, and this was his response. Deep down, you knew König enough to know that he wouldn’t do something like that, but your anxiety-riddled brain couldn’t think rationally right now. 

Before disappointment could set in, there was a surprisingly gentle knock on the door. But to you, it sounded like two gunshots had just gone off in the room, your ears now ringing in response. 

A soft gasp left you, and you swore your heart stopped. Taking a second to take a deep breath, you fixed your hair as you walked to the door, suddenly worried about your appearance. Your hand shook as you grabbed the handle, time seemingly slowing as you opened the door.

There, just like he said he would be, was König, his body damn near filling the entire doorframe, the tiniest bits of light from the hallway sneaking in. He was dressed down, which made sense for the time of day, so it shouldn’t have come as such a shock to you to see his bare arms. He must’ve been feeling particularly cruel, to be wearing a tight, black short-sleeve shirt instead of his usual loose long-sleeves. His hands were shoved into the pockets of some black sweatpants, and it almost felt wrong to see him like this. 

And as his eyes widened the tiniest amount, you realized that he, too, had never seen you in loungewear. Wearing a tank top and some sleep shorts, you might as well have been naked with the way his gaze roamed over your body, setting your body alight. A part of you wondered if this was the first time he’d looked at you like this, or if your attraction hadn’t been as one-sided as you believed. 

You weren’t quite sure what to say; you both knew why he was here. So instead of making a fool of yourself by attempting to talk, you took a step back, wordlessly inviting König into your room. 

As he stepped in, you watched as his head moved around, taking in his surroundings. Your room wasn’t much, but it was a step up from the shared room you had when you first joined. There was a bed, a full size at most, the headboard pressed up against the wall, with standard-issue grey sheets. A nightstand sat beside it, with the LED clock, and a lamp that currently struggled to fight against the darkness of the night as it poured through the lame excuse of a window that resided at the top of the wall. A few other pieces of furniture, a dresser, a desk, and a shelf, were each in their respective spots, leaving not a lot of free room.

So, as König walked in, your room felt incredibly small, nearly suffocating. It didn’t help that every time you saw König your breathing turned labored, which wasn’t the best thing to happen to you out on the field. But your years of suppressing your desires had trained you well, able to put on an impression that you were unaffected. 

“Do you want this?”

You’d barely heard König, your heart thudding too loudly. He had turned to face you, hands still in his pockets, a casual stance. But his eyes told a different story, hooded with lust, and boring into you. 

Swallowing, you failed to notice the way his eyes zeroed in on the action. Nodding your head was the only thing you could do, never feeling so certain bout something in your life. But you were nervous. What if you disappointed him? What if this wrecked what relationship the two of you had? What if this was all still a joke?

You hadn't expected König to have moved so that he was right in front of you. Was he always this tall? Towering over you, you felt his fingers, free from their usual gloves, grasp your chin, forcing your eyes onto him. A strangled noise died in your throat at the action, but he felt it, and you watched his eyes crinkle in the corners. He was grinning. 

“Use your words, Schatz.” The endearment, although in a foreign language, made you melt. You weren’t entirely sure what it meant, even after hearing it before, but he said it so sweetly that you didn’t need to know what it meant to feel its effects. 

Your heart was fluttering now, your brain fighting between feeling anxious and exhilarated. König must’ve detected this inner battle of yours, something softening in his gaze. The hand holding your chin moved to your wrist, grabbing it loosely enough so that you could pull away if you wanted to, and he slowly pulled your hand up until it rested on his chest, palm flat against his left pec. 

Once the shock of touching him subsided, you were confused as he watched you expectantly. You went to try to speak but were subsequently silenced by König as he shook his head, pressing your hand down harder. It was then you could finally feel beneath your fingertips his heartbeat, much too fast for the casual stance he had earlier. 

He was just as nervous about this as you were.

He let go of your wrist once he saw you felt it, but you didn’t pull your hand away, quickly gaining confidence knowing you weren’t alone in your nerves. “I want this, König.” You were pleasantly surprised to find that your voice was steady, not even the tiniest bit hoarse. I’ve wanted this for a long time.

Pleased, you could also detect the tiniest bit of relief from him, uncertainty playing a part in his nervous behavior. But that was quickly washed away when his authoritative demeanor returned; you’re not sure why you expected anything else. In every room he walked into, he demanded respect, to be listened to. Followed. Obeyed. You just never thought that it carried into more intimate moments. 

You certainly weren’t complaining. Not when you could feel arousal pool in your gut, a pleasant warmth that flowed through your entire body. Not when every word he spoke made you shiver, his accent thick, voice pitched lower. And now that your nerves had died down, all that was left was excitement, which nearly made you just as jumpy. As he brought his masked face close to yours, you swore your breathing stopped; it almost felt like the anticipation you’d feel before a kiss.

But his destination wasn’t your lips, although his eyes did flick down to them momentarily. No, he stopped before they could connect, mask and all. Resting his head against yours, which took a bit of bending on his part, you felt two warm hands begin to trail down your body, starting right at your collarbones. 

You watched as his eyes trailed over your face, gauging your reaction. When he was met with nothing but desire and want, his touch grew more certain, yet he didn’t pick up the pace. His fingers continued to drag down your body until you wanted to push them down to where you wanted. Something told you that that wouldn’t go over well, but you had to admit you were curious to see what his reaction would be. 

You chose to just shift in his grasp instead of trying to force his touch lower, hoping he’d get the message. You knew he did when you heard him chuckle, a sound that always made you weak in the knees, now especially. “Patience.” 

You could detect the warning well enough, but you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to it. “Please, König.” You didn’t care if you were begging. All you could think about was how close he was to giving you what you wanted. 

Another chuckle left the Austrian, but this one sounded more cruel. “You are going to have a long night.”

Before you could even think about his words, he was effortlessly sweeping you off your feet, hands having found their way to the back of your thighs. Insticinvly, your legs wrapped around his body, but you knew he didn’t need the extra help, and you also knew that he wouldn’t drop you. With a surprised laugh, you hung on as König carried you over to the bed, eyes never once leaving your face like he was enraptured by it. 

Unfortunately, the walk to the bed was brief, and before you could get comfortable in his arms, he was depositing you onto the bed. So much for not dropping you. It didn’t hurt, no, more surprising than anything, the breath briefly getting knocked out of you. The cheaper bed groaned under the weight, rusty springs a godawful symphony of noises, but you paid them no mind. 

Hungry eyes watched you from the foot of the bed as you moved up towards the headboard, back resting against it. Once you were settled, König stalked over to the side of the bed, his movements nothing but predatory. Yet oddly enough, you felt safe. You both trusted each other enough to watch over the other while out on the field and so you felt that same trust here. Deep down, you knew that if you were to tell him to stop, he would, no questions asked. Yet you knew you probably wouldn’t need him to. 

But he didn’t sit down, rather moving to the nightstand beside you. Your dazed state quickly dissipated once he started rummaging inside of it, but you were too late to do anything. With burning cheeks, you watched as he pulled out a pink device, which looked comically small in his hands. 

You wanted nothing more than to bury your face in your hands and pray for your demise, yet you were stuck in place once his attention returned to you. You just knew he had a shit-eating grin on his face, and if you weren’t so mortified about him finding the toy, then you would’ve made some comment to wipe it right off. 

Finally, König sat beside you, the vibrator still in his hand. With his other, you felt his touch return to your calf, featherlight, and leisurely making its way to the waistband of your shorts. “You use this a lot?”

“König…” Your voice wasn’t as assertive as you’d have liked, coming out more as a breathy whine. 

“Answer my question.” His hand stopped moving, stopping right at your knee. No matter how you shifted or squirmed, he didn’t move.

With a deep sigh, you tried to ignore the embarrassment you felt when you nodded your head. You then remembered his words from earlier. “Yes,” was all you said, but that seemed to be enough for him, as he continued his ascent with his fingers.

But his tormenting wasn’t done there, as after a few seconds you heard him speak again. “What do you think about?” This question came quieter than the first like he was sharing a piece of gossip, not asking you to reveal your deepest fantasies. 

You. 

The word was on the tip of your tongue, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to say them, to admit to him. How you’d dreamed of moments like this. How you’d imagined him touching you, fucking you, devouring you. So much information was on the verge of being spilled, and you were scared of it happening, too many what-ifs floating in your brain to keep track. 

But any attempt of holding back your words disappeared when König’s hand retracted, and you found the words stuttering out of you, desperate to feel him again. “I think about you, König…” You nearly felt out of breath after, your chest heaving for air, your cheeks now on fire. 

König, much to your surprise, didn’t seem taken aback by your words. Instead, you watched as his eyes darkened even more, which seemed like an impossible feat. “I thought as much,” his voice sounded more like a growl, and you fought the urge to press your thighs together. “And what do I do, when you think of me?”

Now that the cat was out of the bag, you felt less embarrassed about speaking. You were further encouraged when his hand settled on your thigh, pulling lightly at the hem of your shorts. “I… I’ve thought of you using toys,” you glanced at his other hand briefly, “your fingers. Your mouth.” The last one came out more like a whisper; he’d have to take his mask off in order for the last one to be true, and you both knew he wasn’t doing that. 

By the time you had finished speaking, he had reached your waistband, fingers dipping beneath it to brush against your skin. He hummed like he was truly thinking deeply over your words. “In that order?” If it was meant to be teasing, you couldn’t tell. 

Words died in your throat as you struggled to speak, your newfound confidence nonexistent. König, thankfully, took some pity on you, realizing that this was all a bit much. “Would you like me to take care of you?”

That you were able to respond to. “Please.”

An appreciative groan reverberated through his broad chest. “Sehr gut.” You weren’t certain what he was saying, but the infliction sounded like a praise, and your body responded as it would if it had been spoken in a language you knew.

You expected him to continue speaking, so imagine your surprise when in one strong tug, he tore your shorts off your body, before throwing them somewhere in the room. You heard an audible gasp from him when he saw you were completely bare underneath, completely exposed to him. You watched his hands flex from where they hung in the air, momentarily taken aback, his restraint pulled tight. 

He recovered quickly, blue eyes obscured by black irises now staring at you. “No underwear?” It was a redundant question, yet he asked anyway, wanting you to admit to it. Sheepishly, you nodded, your reward being a low chuckle. “Gott, you are trying to kill me.”

That was the last thing he said before he was settling at the end of your bed, right where your feet sat. His unoccupied hand grabbed your ankle, pulling your legs apart so that he could settle between them. With both thighs resting on his shoulders, you could no longer close your legs, unless you wanted to suffocate the man between them. You doubt he would complain, though. 

His face was inches from your center, and you could feel the heat radiating from him with each breath he took. His eyes had left your face, now drinking in the sight before him, and you could tell he was pleased with what he saw. Quite pleased, if the groan he let out told you anything. 

“So wet already,” he murmured as if he was surprised. You had little time to feel any sort of embarrassment, before two wide fingers ran through your folds, collecting the arousal there. You watched, then, as he brought his fingers below his mask, and you were able to fill in the details as his eyes fell shut with a hum of appreciation. 

Very much distracted, you’d momentarily forgotten about the device in his other hand until the unmistakable buzzing noise filled the air. Your breathing was labored as you waited for his next move, where he would touch you next. You, luckily, did not have to wait long to find out, as those two fingers returned, this time working to spread you open. His eyes finally shot up to yours, his desire evident, and there was an unspoken question in the gesture. More?

You would take all that he could give you, greedily. If he gave you scraps, you would take scraps with a thankful smile. If he gave you a goddamn meal, then you would savor every moment, every drop. With a shaky smile, you gave him a nod, not needing to use your words this time. 

The first graze of the toy over your clit made you jump, eliciting an amused shake of König’s head. “Relax, Schatz.”

And you tried. Taking a deep breath, you went through the breathing exercises you were taught when you first enlisted. Either it was thinking about the breathing exercises, or the exercises themselves, but you found yourself relaxing a bit, your muscles not as wound up as they once were. 

So when König once again pressed the vibrator against the bundle of nerves, you still jolted. Not out of shock, but because of the pleasure that action brought. And instead of pulling away like last time, he kept his hand in place, making you squirm. 

Soft whines and gasps of air were heard from you, hands fisting the sheets beside you. You wanted to hold on to him, but you were worried that once you grabbed on, you wouldn’t want to let go. “König…” you moaned, trying to express just how good he was making you feel. Every nerve in your body tingled, that unmistakable tightness growing in your abdomen. You weren’t close, but you didn’t think it would take long with how worked up you’d been waiting for him. 

The hand holding you open ascended, your back arching into his touch as he dragged his fingers over your stomach, your ribs, before encapsulating one of your breasts in a large, warm hand. “Du bist so schön,” he murmured, a glint of something in his eye. It quickly turned mischievous, though, when you just nodded along, his words meaning nothing to you. “Du hast keine Idee, was ich sage.”

When you neither confirmed nor denied his observation, he laughed, much to your confusion, but you were too caught up in your pleasure to care much. “Oh, Schatz.” It almost sounded patronizing, something that shouldn’t have gotten you as worked up as it did. Another plea of his name tore from your lips, the pressure in you building and building. 

Glancing down between your legs, you were surprised to find his eyes already on you. A squeeze of his hand had you keening, König making a noise that almost seemed proud. “So responsive. Nur für mich.”

What could you do besides nod? Even if you could understand him, you doubted you’d be able to process his words. And besides, hearing him speak his native tongue was always a treat, so hearing him like this was melting you, another thing setting your body alight. Your thighs were beginning to shake, something that did not go unnoticed by the man between them. 

“König… fuck, just a lil’ more…” You failed to see the plan he was formulating, your eyes screwed shut as pleasure overtook you. That tension was becoming unbearable now, and just on the verge of snapping. Your hips rocked and twisted, your fingers cramping with how hard you were gripping the sheets. You were on the edge, just teetering. All you needed was a little push, and-

The sound of silence was deafening as König turned the toy off, setting it on the bed beside you. Your eyes flew open, nowhere near expecting him to pull away just as you were about to cum. It would’ve been embarrassing, the frustrated noise you let out, but all you could think and feel was your waning orgasm. You went to try and finish yourself, but a strong hand caught your wrist before you could move. 

“König…” you warned, pleaded. Like sand, you could feel your release escaping through your fingers. “Y-You said you would help me relax.”

“You are distracted, nein?” 

It was true, your mind was far from the stresses of the day. But a new stress was building, one that was being caused by him. “König-”

“Lay back down.”

You hadn’t even realized you’d sat up, and with a sigh, you sunk back against the pillows, hoping he didn’t see the way your cheeks darkened at the way he commanded you. You could feel yourself continue to come down from that delicious high, body still strung tight like a string on a violin. König played you so well, that you doubted it would take long for you to reach that precipice again. But would he give you what you wanted, or continue to dangle it above your head, just out of reach? You both loved and hated the game he was playing, but your patience was bound to run out eventually. 

He settled in between your legs again, both hands empty this time. A few minutes passed, König lazily tracing his fingers across your bare legs and stomach, truly letting the embers of your previous orgasm burn out.

After what felt like an eternity, he began to drag his touch inward, making you gasp lightly. Like he did before, you felt him pass his fingers through you. The stimulation was almost too much, but it was the best thing you’d ever felt, a soft whine leaving you. That whine turned into a moan when he pressed a digit into you, aided by your arousal. 

He wasted no time in working his finger in and out of you, setting a slow yet intense pace. Your previous decision to not hold on to him quickly fell apart, desperately reaching down to him. There was a second of surprise before he gave you his other hand, your fingers immediately locking with his. It was a startling difference, the innocent gesture of handholding versus the way he was making you see stars with every crook of his fingers. 

His fingers were wide, much wider than yours, so the stretch burned when he added a second. He gave you a moment to adjust before moving, murmuring soft words of praise. “Gutes Mädchen,” he purred. “Gott, look at you, taking me so well.” Each word was enunciated with a thrust of his fingers, pulling noises from you you didn’t even know were possible. 

As amazing as his fingers felt, you need more. Wanted more. Glancing down at König, you gave him as wide eyes as you could, and he seemed to get the message. “You want more?” Upon your fervent nodding, he shook his head teasingly. “So greedy.”

For a moment, you were convinced that he wasn’t going to fulfill your request. That was until he pulled his hand away from yours, reaching for the base of his mask. Your heart damn near stopped when you realized what he was doing, and with a shocked gasp, you shut your eyes, unsure if he wanted you to see. 

You felt him pause, the rustling of fabric ceasing, before his voice rang out. “Look at me.” For the first time since you’d met him, you’d heard his voice clearly, not muffled by his mask. 

Cautiously, you opened your eyes, still partially convinced that this was a test of sorts. All of those worries disappeared when your eyes landed on him. His mask wasn’t fully off, not like you expected, and a part of you was relieved. You don’t think you were ready for that. 

Instead, it was pulled up just past his mouth, revealing most of his lower face, and any image you’d created of him in your mind was immediately forgotten, replaced with the sight in front of you. He had a wider jaw, with a decent amount of stubble adorning his cheeks. His lips were full, the top smaller than the bottom, and pulled into a small smile that made your stomach erupt into butterflies. He was, without a doubt, one of the most handsome men you’d ever laid eyes on, and this was only a part of his face.

But what stuck out to you the most, and would stick out to anyone who saw him, was the large scar that cut upwards on the right side of his upper lip, disappearing under the mask as it continued. The rest of the skin had healed together, except for on his lip, where, similar to a cleft lip but smaller, there was a gap, exposing a sharp canine. It was like his lip was turned up in a constant sneer.

You had no idea how he got that scar, and knowing the job you both did, it was probably quite traumatic. But the scar, alongside the rest of him, had desire churning so strongly in your gut that you nearly felt ill. It felt almost too good to be true, yet here he was, in between your legs, staring at you like you were the best thing on this forsaken planet, his hips grinding against the bed as he pleasured you. 

“Hallo, Schatz.” You were entranced by the way his lips moved as he spoke, and he noticed it, a cocky grin now on display. God, the effect that smirk had on you was immediate, his smugness immeasurable when he felt your body react on his fingers. “You know how to make a man feel good.”

You managed to roll your eyes, not wanting to bolster his ego that much, making König laugh in response. But his playful mood was quickly replaced by one of pure desire, moving forward until you could feel his warm breath hit your center. His fingers had resumed their motions, that tension once again building in your abdomen. It felt stronger this time like your body was punishing you for not allowing the tension to release last time. 

Not once did his eyes break away from yours, not even as his tongue flicked out to taste you, and you could feel his smile, never once dropping. He did it again, this time nudging your over-sensitive clit, making your hips buck. Letting his mask fall on your body to keep it held up, his now free hand splayed across your lower abdomen, keeping you in place, unable to escape the onslaught of pleasure. 

Even quicker than before, you found yourself careening toward that edge, your nails digging into König’s arm, likely leaving marks. His name replayed like a chant on your lips with each crook of his fingers, each flick of his tongue, every suck from his lips. You couldn’t see him any longer, your head thrown back against the pillows.

“König… please.” You almost didn’t want to tell him you were close, afraid of him taking your release away from you again. But you figured he didn’t need you to tell him to know, with the way your thighs shook and walls fluttered around his fingers. You felt him smirk again, a sense of dread washing over you at its implication. “Please, König… let me cum.”

Forcing your head back down, you watched as he considered your plea, and for a second, you thought you were in the clear. That was until he pulled his mouth away, his lower face glistening, that smirk still there, before the mask fell back down. His fingers pulled away next, groaning when he watched you clench around nothing.

Frustrated was nowhere close to how you felt, tears now prickling your eyes as yet another orgasm was withheld. The torture was delicious, yes, but you were going to lose it if you didn’t get to cum soon. You’d wanted this for so long, to fall apart under his ministrations, and you were tired of waiting. Your voice wavered as you whined his name, but there wasn’t anything either of you could do now, as you felt that almost high fade away again. 

With a defeated sigh, you let your head hit the pillows again, your legs sliding off König’s shoulders. You didn’t get to relax long, though, before his accented voice hit your ears again, unfortunately muffled. “Roll over.”

Without trying to hide your displeasure, you complied, glaring at him as you turned. You hoped he couldn’t tell how excited you actually were, fighting back an eager smile. He chuckled from behind you as you settled on your hands and knees, trailing off when he took in the sight before him. “I will ignore that attitude. This time.”

As you thought over the implications of this time, you felt König stand, followed by the sound of rustling fabric, as well as the crinkle of plastic. Something stirred in you at the fact that he came prepared, meaning he wanted this as much as you did. You’re not sure why you still believed he didn’t, but the reassurance was nice, to say the least. 

Glancing over your shoulder, you managed to catch a glimpse of him, the sight making you nearly snap your head back around. Nearly. He had shed his pants, his black shirt rising enough to reveal a pale, muscular abdomen, created from years of intense labor and exercise. He radiated power, and a part of you wondered if that translated into more intimate aspects like his authoritativeness had. Would he be rough with you? Or would he be more ginger, like his touch had been for most of the night; not gentle, but not on the verge of hurting?

You would take either way, as long as it was him doing it. 

“It is rude to stare.”

His tone was teasing, yet it still pulled you out of your shameless ogling. Caught red-handed, an almost sheepish smile appeared on your face. “You can’t blame me when you look like that. You’re a sight, König.”

For the first time that night, König seemed at a loss for words, staring at you like you’d grown a second head. If his mask was still pulled up, you figured you would see his lips struggling to form words, and, if you were lucky, a blush creeping up his face. It was a beautiful image in your mind, one that made you smile harder. 

Clearing his throat, König shook himself out of whatever daze he had been in, and you pocketed his weakness away for later. Checking you for any last-second hesitations, he let the rest of the clothing on his lower body fall away, effectively shifting the power back into his hands. And despite yourself, a small noise left you at the sight, further stroking his already massive ego. 

As to be expected for someone of his size, he was large, and painfully hard, if the hiss he let out told you anything. He was proportional to his hand as he took himself in it, stroking himself a few times, but you knew you’d struggle to hold him in yours. Just like the rest of his body, he was pale, with an almost purple tip that leaked precum. 

Turning your head back around before you lost your nerve, a few seconds passed before you felt the bed creak again, assumedly to put on the condom. One hand pressed between your shoulders, wordlessly pressing your face and chest into the bed. His other hand grabbed your hip, pulling your ass against him, another small noise leaving you when his cock pressed into you. You let him maneuver you as he wished, surprised with how much you were enjoying him taking the lead during this. 

“Ready?” His voice sounded relaxed, but the fingers digging into your hips told a different story. Still, the sincerity of his gesture made your heart thrum happily.

“Yes.” You’d never been more ready for something. 

A strangled moan tore from your lips as he pressed in, obscured by the mattresses your face was currently being pressed into. Tangling your fingers into the sheets around you, you could do nothing but take him as he sheathed his length into you, inch by inch. Time seemed to slow, your breathing ragged, when it wasn’t interrupted by noises of pleasure. 

The pain wasn’t as bad as you initially thought it would be, and for a moment you were thankful that König had worked you up so much. But that tension returned again, König still not fully in you yet. A whimper of his name had him stilling, an almost painful-sounding breath leaving him as he steadied himself, using every ounce of restraint to keep going slowly. 

The words tumbled out of you then, unable to stop yourself. “I-I can take it… please.”

“Scheiße.” The expletive was not unknown to you, nearly turning smug with the fact you made him lose control again. And just like before, he was quick to put you in your place, any comment dying on your lips when he bottomed out with a sharp thrust of his hips.

You swore you saw stars, unable to make any noise besides a soft oh. König, trusting that you were telling the truth, didn’t wait to give you time to adjust. He set a brutal pace immediately, hips snapping against yours with a slick noise. You could cum just from this alone, still so worked up, and König knew this.

The hands on your body shifted, wrapping around the front of your body and lifting you effortlessly until your back was pressed against his chest. He wasted no time tearing off your shirt, groping and toying with your breasts as he continued to thrust up into you. His voice was like gravel as he spoke, his covered mouth speaking right in your ear. “Du fühlst- Gott, mein Schatz.”

Even though your brain was hazed with lust, there was one thing that stuck out to you when he spoke. Never before had he added the word “mein” before calling you Schatz. You had no idea what it meant, but it certainly sounded like an English word you’d been dying to hear from his lips. Mine.

“Yours?” You knew you were probably connecting dots that didn’t exist, but the idea of being König’s was too appealing. 

König stuttered in his movements, an absolutely sinful moan being pulled from him, a sound that nearly pushed you over that edge. “Smart girl,” he spoke while regaining his breath. “Cum for me, mein Mädchen.”

That was all you needed, reaching your release the hardest you’d ever had in your life, the relief you felt immeasurable. Your head threw back to his shoulder, and because your eyes were screwed shut you couldn’t see the way he stared at you with awe. Every muscle tensed and then released, causing you to go slack in his arms, your nerves buzzing with pleasure. 

Your ears rang too loudly to hear him groan your name as he felt you cum, and a few more thrusts of his hips was all it took to reach his own end. The sensation of him spasming inside of you rode out your waves of pleasure until it became too much. König, thankfully, seemed to realize this, and he pulled out of you, then easing your limp body to the bed carefully. 

Completely blissed out, you didn’t feel as König got off the bed, nor know how much time passed before he returned. All you knew was that suddenly the blanket was torn out from under you, before covering your bare body.

Even though every muscle in your body didn’t want to work, you forced yourself to sit upright and watch the large man, who was currently in the process of getting redressed. “You’re not staying?” You didn’t try to hide the obvious disappointment in your words. 

König stilled at that, turning to face you slowly. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Of course.” The words came out so easily, so honestly, that you nearly startled yourself with your honesty. 

Something like relief sagged his broad shoulders, and before long he was back beside your bed. You let him lay down first, as he did take up more space, before settling yourself in the crook of his arm. Well, it was more like you were half lying on top of him to keep from falling off the bed, but neither of you were complaining. König certainly wasn’t, his eyes crinkling in a poorly concealed smile. 

A few moments passed in silence, simply savoring the afterglow and the feeling of being in each other’s arms. Then, “Are you relaxed now?”

You snorted at that, lifting your head to look at him, shaking your head lightly. Fondly. “I suppose I am,” you agreed. “Though I am gonna be sore tomorrow for… other reasons.”

It was König’s turn to laugh now, the sound lighter than you expected. “I hope you are not expecting me to apologize. You were the one who asked for it.” You merely shrugged your shoulders in response, knowing he was right, but not wanting to give him the satisfaction of verbally admitting it. 

Every part of your body wanted to lay back down, but you had a different idea as you continued to observe König. He tracked every movement of your eyes, and you could see his brow furrow in confusion. Before he could say anything, though, you were speaking, so quietly you wondered if you had merely thought the words.

“Can I kiss you?”

And for the second time that night, König was at a loss, blinking at you like a deer in the headlights. But it seemed he’d already made up his mind, nodding lightly, the mask creasing with every movement of his head. 

Letting the blanket fall off you, you were quick to straddle his abdomen, eliciting a gasp from the Austrian. Tentatively, you let your fingers reach for the hem of the mask, scanning his eyes for any hesitations. When you were met with none, you flashed him a gracious smile, before pulling the cloth up right to his nose, not going further than he had before. 

His hands, which had fallen to his side, now ran up your thighs, before settling on your waist. Blue eyes danced across your face and your body, not able to decide which sight he liked better. You were quick to keep his attention on your mouth, though, as you planted one of your hands on his chest and leaned forward.

Taking your other hand, you let it trail up his neck before settling on his lower jaw, his stubble tickling your hand. He shuddered under your touch, lips parting in a soft gasp. Even with everything the two of you had done tonight, this felt the most intimate. 

When you pressed your lips against his, you couldn’t help the smile that tugged yours when he made another audible noise. A part of you wondered how long it had been since he’d been kissed, been touched this softly. If he’d let you, you’d remedy that. Gladly.

You kept the kiss short, but it promised more to come. Setting the mask back down, you pressed one last peck to his covered lips, unable to help yourself, before laying your head on his chest, keeping any comment about his fast heartbeat to yourself. “I hope you know I’ll be getting my revenge,” you said instead, hoping he didn’t realize it was just another way of saying you wanted this again. 

“I am looking forward to it, Schatz.”

Translations:

Schatz - treasure (term of endearment)

Sehr gut - very good

Gott - God

Du bist so schön - you are so beautiful

Du hast keine Idee, was ich sage - you have no idea what I am saying

Nur für mich - only for me

Nein - no

Gutes Mädchen - good girl

Scheiße - shit, fuck

Du fühlst- Gott, mein Schatz - you feel- God, my treasure

Mein Mädchen - my girl

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Honey Don't Feed It, It Will Come Back

Pairing: Reader x Venom

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: alright got lots to cover; dubcon/coercion, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, tentacle fucking, DP, anal, praise, a little size kink here and there, pet names, unprotected monster sex, creampie, overstimulation, forced orgasm - I think I got everything also a brief moment of harassment at the beginning and like standard venom level violence oh and there's mention of food habits so ya know

Genre: Smut... just smut and it's like... almost a dark fic

Summary: Venom takes an extreme liking to you because of your kindness after he saves your life || “Don’t let it in with no intention to keep it Jesus Christ // Don’t be kind to it // Honey don’t feed it, it will come back” ~ It Will Come Back by Hozier

***

You huff to yourself as you shut off your computer. You've been working all evening and if you don't make a point to leave and get something to eat now you might skip dinner by accident. Again. You quickly dial your local Chinese takeout place and order your usual as you lock up your apartment. You figure by the time you walk there to pick it up, it'll be ready. You get your food pretty soon after you get there, and wish the workers goodnight before you head back home. It's kind of cool outside tonight, especially for the summer and you're enjoying your walk through the city. 

"A pretty lady like you should really avoid walking around alone so late." A voice snarls from behind you. You roll your eyes and keep walking, intent on ignoring the catcaller.

"Hey sweetheart we're talking to you!" A second voice chimes in and you try to subtly increase your pace as you steel your nerves. You gasp when a hand grabs your arm and yanks you backwards.

"It's rude to ignore people." The first voice sneers in your face, his grip tightening on your bicep.

"Let go of me." You huff trying to pull your arm out of his grasp.

"Not a chance."

"HEY! YOU SHOULD PICK ON SOMEONE YOUR OWN SIZE!" A voice growls and you stumble back when a large shadow plucks the man holding you away from you.

"Oh my God." You gasp falling against the wall behind you. A large shiny creature dangles the one man high in the air.

"IT'S NOT NICE TO GRAB LADIES WALKING HOME!" The monster scolds him.

"H-hey man, we weren't doing nothing." The man tries to appease the giant while the second guy finally snaps out of his stupor and takes off in the other direction.

"HEY! GET BACK HERE! I DON'T LIKE CHASING MY FOOD!" The monster stretches something resembling a tentacle towards the second guy, grabbing his ankle and pulling him back to hang next to the first.

"S-she's fine, see?"

"ONLY BECAUSE I CAME." What you assume are the creature's eyes narrow at them both. "YOU DIDN'T GRAB HER, BUT IF I EVER SEE YOU BOTHERING SOMEONE AGAIN I WILL EAT YOUR BRAIN!" The creature drops the second guy and he practically trips over his feet as he scrambles away. "YOU I WILL EAT NOW!" The creature says to guy one, dangling him over his mouth. The man lets out a scream that is cut off suddenly as you watch the creature bite off his head.

"Holy shit." You whisper. The monster tosses what's left of the guy down an alley and you vaguely hear his body clunk against something, likely a garbage bin.

"ARE YOU OKAY?"

"I- I'm fine. Thank you."

"YOU'RE WELCOME."

"Who are you?" You ask quietly.

"WE ARE VENOM."

"We?" You frown. Black tar-like goo slowly retracts to reveal a man's face.

"I'm Eddie. The- black goo is an alien, Venom."

"What like that body snatchers movie?"

"Not quite, I'm still in control here. We work as a team." Eddie explains.

"Well- thank you for, helping me with those guys but you didn't have to eat that one."

"It's how I appease the big guy. He gets sustenance from some chemical only found in brains and chocolate."

"Phenethylamine?" You ask.

"You know what it is?"

"Well yeah I- I work for a chem lab." You tell him. He's quiet for a moment before he sighs.

"Venom is insisting we offer to walk you home. If you're okay with that." Eddie says.

"I wouldn't want you to go out of your way I mean-"

"WE WANT TO!  WE CAN MAKE SURE YOU'RE SAFE!" Venom reappears, swallowing Eddie's face behind black goo and stark white eyes.

"Alright well, it's only a couple of blocks. I suggest you, de-alien though I think people would freak out seeing an eight foot mass of black goo." 

"I AM SEVEN FEET AND SIX INCHES! WE MEASURED!"

"Still you'd draw way too much attention to yourself like that."

"FINE." Venom relents and retracts into Eddie.

"That is so- fascinating." You mutter.

"Trust me, it loses its novelty." Eddie says. "Lead the way." He adds.

"Have you been this way your whole life?" You ask as you walk with him towards your apartment.

"What? With the alien? No, no this was an unfortunate accident. I simply can't get rid of him now." Eddie says.

"Do you not get along?" You frown.

"Not always. It's like having a roommate you can't hide from in your room when you're annoyed with them."

"Huh- so where does he, go? Like when you're out here... where is he?"

"That's a complicated question." He scoffs. "I never got your name." He looks at you.

"Sorry! It's y/n. I guess the whole scientist's curiosity thing got the best of me." You mutter.

"No need to apologize." He shakes his head. Eddie walks you all the way up to your apartment before attempting to part ways.

"Would you- like to come in?" You ask before you can chicken out.

"I wouldn't want to impose. It's late and-"

"It's the least I can do. You basically just saved my life. I'd like to thank you." You say.

"Well Venom wants to stay so I guess it couldn't hurt." Eddie says.

"Great! Make yourself at home. Would you like anything? I don't have brains but I certainly have a bag of chocolate if Venom would like any." You offer as he follows you in.

"Abagof chocolate? Stocking up early for Halloween?" He jokes sitting on your couch.

"No not yet. I have a coworker that has one hell of a sweet tooth and I recently learned that he works best when incentivized so, if ever we're working late chocolate actually helps him stay focused. But if we're not careful he'll tear through the whole bag in like three hours, it's kind of impressive actually." You laugh.

"Oh if you think that's impressive wait til you see what V can do. He'll tear through it in like three minutes. If he stops to take the wrapping off anyway. Usually though he just chucks the whole thing back and then- spits back up the trash like a cat with a hairball." Eddie scoffs.

"Well- that's... compact at least." You muse pulling the bag of candy from your pantry.

"That's one way to look at it."

"Did you want food by the way? I was out picking up Chinese in the first place. There's definitely enough to share." You say grabbing plates. You usually order enough to have leftovers so you can definitely give some to your guest, you'll just not have as much left over.

"Oh I'm not all that hungry but-"

"I'LL HAVE THAT CHOCOLATE PLEASE!" Venom's head emerges from behind Eddie to chime in.

"Of course. Eddie are you sure you don't want anything?"

"HE EATS BEFORE WE GO OUT AT NIGHT." Venom tells you.

"Well I feel weird eating if my guests aren't so you'll have to have something. You want chips or pretzels or something?"

"HE LIKES CHEESY SNACKS. DO YOU HAVE ANY OF THE CORN TRIANGLES?" Venom asks.

"Corn triangles?" You frown.

"THEY'RE ORANGE IN A RED BAG."

"Doritos? Sure I have some."

"HE'LL EAT THOSE."

"Venom I said I wasn't hungry." Eddie grumbles.

"AND SHE SAID SHE WON'T EAT IF YOU DON'T SO EAT THE CORN TRIANGLES." Venom glares at him.

"You guys argue like a married couple." You giggle. You grab the bag of chips, the bag of chocolate, and a plate before joining them on your couch.

"Honestly we aren't too far off." Eddie chuckles taking the chips from you. A slimy black appendage wraps around the chocolate and pulls it almost out of view entirely.

"Oh- are you guys in a relationship?" You ask curiously as you dump half of the takeout box onto your plate.

"Something to that effect. I mean- he's kinda inside my body like all the time. No such thing as privacy with him around." He shrugs.

"So- does your diet affect his, or vice versa?" You ask between bites of your dinner.

"Only psychologically."

"What?"

"The first few times you eat another person are kinda traumatizing but you get used to it. We have separate digestive systems so- I'm technically not consuming human brains."

"HE NEARLY HAD A PANIC ATTACK THE FIRST TIME I ATE SOMEONE BUT I WAS SAVING HIS LIFE." Venom chimes in and you realize the full bag of candy you gave him is now just a ball of trash.

"Venom." Eddie rolls his eyes.

"You know I feel like a brain eating vigilante would draw attention- even in a city like New York." You frown.

"I'm careful." Eddie says.

"Oh yeah? I don't think tossing that guy in what I assume is a dumpster tonight screams careful."

"V got carried away. We'll take care of it before anyone sees it in the morning."

"I'M ONLY ALLOWED TO EAT BAD GUYS. NO ONE CARES IF YOU EAT BAD GUYS." Venom says with what you think is a smile.

"Not quite, cops still care but that's we we're careful about it." Eddie tells him.

"WE COULD EAT THE COPS!"

"It'd be hard to eat all of the NYPD I think." You muse.

"I COULD TOTALLY DO IT."

"No we are not eating cops. Bad guys, remember?" Eddie sighs.

"Depending on who you ask cops do fall under that category." You shrug.

"REALLY?!"

"Don't rile him up." Eddie points at you in warning while you laugh.

"I wasn't trying to I promise." You say with a wide smile that makes it hard for Eddie to keep his stern expression.

"Sure. I'd love to stay but we do have to take care of that creep in the dumpster before sunrise so- we should probably head out." Eddie stands.

"Of course. Thanks again for your help tonight." You say standing with him to walk him out.

"Not a problem. Thanks for the snacks."

"You're welcome. If you need anything, door's always open." You smile.

"BYE Y/N! WE'LL SEE YOU AGAIN." Venom says before disappearing.

"Have a goodnight." Eddie nods before turning down the hall. You lock your door and finish your food with thoughts of the curious duo staying at the front of your mind even as you get ready for bed that night.

"I REALLY LIKED HER." Venom declares to Eddie.

"Yeah, she was nice."

"WE SHOULD GO SEE HER AGAIN TOMORROW."

"No. We can't just pop up at her place for no reason."

"WHY NOT? SHE SAID THE DOOR WAS ALWAYS OPEN."

"She did not mean it literally it's just a nice thing people say V. We're not going back there tomorrow. End of discussion." Eddie says and when Venom doesn't respond he assumes he's relenting. He's not actually, but Venom is learning to pick and choose his battles when it comes to Eddie so he'll keep his plans to himself for now.

The next night a knock on your window surprises you while you're watching a movie. You gasp when you see Venom smiling and waving frantically at you. You rush to pull the window open and he climbs inside quickly.

"Venom? What are you doing? Is everything okay?" You frown.

"EVERYTHING IS FINE. I JUST WANTED TO SEE YOU AGAIN." He says looking down at you. His gaze makes you conscious of the fact that you're in a small tank top and a pair of shorts.

"You know you could've used the front door. Right?" You ask walking to your kitchen to put distance between you.

"I THOUGHT I'D DRAW TOO MUCH ATTENTION WALKING INTO YOUR BUILDING." Venom shrugs looking around your apartment.

"You would but Eddie wouldn't."

"HE WOULDN'T COME IF I ASKED HIM."

"So- wait you basically dragged him here?"

"SOMETHING LIKE THAT. HE SAID WE COULDN'T JUST COME SEE YOU EVEN THOUGH YOU SAID THE DOOR WAS ALWAYS OPEN."

"You guysarebasically an old married couple." You laugh. "You ate the whole bag of chocolate yesterday but I did run to a corner store today and pick up a Hershey bar so- you can have that if you'd like." You tell him.

"I DIDN'T COME HERE TO GET CHOCOLATE." He says with something in his voice that you totally miss while rumaging through your fridge.

"Really? I figure with your size you're like always hungry." You muse turning towards him. It's then that you realize how his eyes are focused on you in a way you can only describe as predatory.

"I WANT SOMETHING ELSE FROM YOU." He says practically boxing you in the kitchen.

"Unless you're here to eat me I don't have a brain lying around to give you." You quip trying to slow your increasing heartrate.

"I WILL EAT YOU, BUT NOT YOUR BRAIN."

"What?" You breathe out, the fear you're feeling now mixing with confusion and lust you try to tamper down.

"YOU DON'T FEAR ME LIKE OTHERS DO."

"In general? No I don't fear you but- right now I'm unsure how to feel."

"WHY? I WON'T HURT YOU."

"You just said you're going to eat me."

"IN A WAY YOU WILL ENJOY." Venom cages you against the counter, and you shrink back

"Venom now wait a second-"

"I'LL TREAT YOU VERY WELL."

"That's not-"

"YOU WANT ME- I CAN SMELL IT. WHY DENY IT?"

"You can smell it?"

"OF COURSE I CAN."

"Oh-"

"JUST LET ME HAVE YOU Y/N. LET MEDEVOURYOU." Venom says. You pause for a moment to consider your options.

"O-okay." You say quietly and his arm wraps around you immediately crowding your space. You gasp when he pulls your shorts off so fast you're surprised they didn't rip. He lifts you up onto his shoulders as if you're a bag of feathers and his tongue snakes out of his mouth and between your legs before you can prepare. Venom laps at your cunt with fervour, your legs squeezing around his head at the way pleasure builds between your legs. You're pressed up against the cabinets as he slurps up your juices like he's dehydrated.

"TASTES SO GOOD." He growls out as his tongue thrusts in and out of you eagerly. His tongue is thick and long, almost impossibly so as it fills you so well. You squirm against his mouth chasing your release that you can feel approaching quickly.

"Venom- I'm, fuck I'm close." You whine.

"DO IT. LET ME TASTE YOUR RELEASE." Venom orders and the way his tongue moves against you as he talks is enough to send you over the edge with a cry. You barely realize Venom lowering you from his shoulders and you hardly have a moment to recover before he's impaling you on his dick. Your back arches at the way he fills you.

"Fuck!" You moan out and Venom practically roars when your walls contract around him.

"YOU'RE SO TIGHT." Venom groans. He tightens his grip on you and sets a pace, raising and lowering you on him with ease.

"God you're big." You whimper falling forward against him as he uses you like a human fleshlight. You claw at his arms, trying to ground yourself while he fucks you open. Tentacle like appendages suddenly appear and wrap around your breasts, teasing your nipples.

"SO PRETTY." He smiles at the way your face contorts with pleasure and bends down enough to kiss you. His tongue invades your mouth in an overwhelming way, swallowing your moans. You can hardly tell where he ends and you begin, it's like he's everywhere at once. More tentacles appear, one teasing your back entrance while another toys with your clit. He pulls away from your mouth as he continues to  prod at your ass without slowing his pace. "I WANT YOU HERE TOO, YOU'LL LET ME HAVE YOU HERE, WON'T YOU?" Venom asks while rubbing tight circles against your clit. You're drowning in pleasure and barely able to register is question as another orgasm builds inside you. "COME ON MY LITTLE MORSEL. TELL ME I CAN DO IT." Venom coaxes, fucking you harder, teasing you more.

"Yes! Fuck yes Venom! You can do anything! Fuck!" You cry out shaking as he rips your second orgasm from you. At that moment, Venom thrusts into into your ass and another scream falls from your lips. If you thought he was everywhere before, now it's even more overwhelming as he fucks you onto his dick in time with the tentacle moving in your ass.

"YESSSSSS." He hisses out.

"V-Venom 's it's too much." You whimper, every part in your body feels too hot.

"YOU CAN TAKE IT. YOU SAID I CAN DO ANYTHING TO YOU. I'M GOING TO RUIN YOU." He says. His tongue snakes out of his mouth and slithers down your chest, lapping at one nipple while a tentacle continues to work the other. It's too much and the speed with which your third orgasm starts building scares you. He very well might actually devour you at this rate. "YOU'RE TAKING ME SO WELL. YOU WERE MADE FOR THIS."

"I- I- please Venom- fucking hell-" Your whimpers are hardly coherent as pleasure threatens to consume you.

"I CAN FEEL ANOTHER ORGASM COMING. LET GO FOR ME MORSEL. GIVE IN." Venom beguiles, his touch returning to your clit to push you over the edge. With the way he works every part of you there's no stopping your release when it gushes from you. "SO GOOD. ANOTHER." He commands.

"I- wait Venom wait- too soon." You plead breathlessly.

"I WANT ANOTHER I'LL TAKE ANOTHER." 

"I can't- n-not yet."

"YOU CAN BECAUSE I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU." He declares as he continues rubbing against your too sensitive clit. You try to squirm away from his ministrations but with him filling your holes you're unable to run as he plays with your most sensitive areas.

"S-shit Venom please I-"

"JUST ONE MORE. ONE MORE AND I'LL LET YOU HAVE A BREAK." He promises and it's enough to send you over the edge a fourth time with a weak whimper. Venom lets up on your clit, focusing now, on his own release. He drives into you, little whines still falling from your lips as exhaustion sets in. "I COULD STAY LIKE THIS FOREVER." He declares with a grunt as he floods your walls with evidence of his orgasm. He stands there holding you for a while, wondering if moving you would break you. Eventually, he moves you to the couch and lays with you on top of him. Now that he's experienced this, knows the warmth of you, it's something he refuses to go without again. Whether you want this or not Venom is yours now and will always find his way back to you.

***

[lovebugism]

hi bug! could I request a fall back to school blurb with eddie and shy!reader, where he sticks up for reader in school against a bully? I love hurt/comforts!

ty for requesting lovely! this is sort of a part 2 for this drabble, but can be read as a stand-alone fic!! — eddie has a talk with jason when he finds out he's been messing with you again (mentions of bullying, hurt/comfort, established relationship, 1.7k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie picks red and orange leaves from your hair. His touch is perfectly gentle despite the red-hot rage burning houses behind his ribcage. 

You’re a shaken-up mess in the back of his van. He knows Jason did something to you — you just won’t tell him what.

He pries, anyway, though, trying his best to keep a nonchalant air about him so you don’t shut down completely. Outside the open trunk, he stands in between your legs and takes care of you. It feels like human nature to do both.

“What happened, babe?” Eddie wonders with a forced laugh, plucking a brown stem from the crown of your head. He flicks it to the pavement below you. “Did he, like, trip you into a pile of leaves or something?”

He’s smiling so sweetly at you, but you know he’ll flip if you’re honest. 

You purse your lips to the side and shake your head, turning your glassy eyes to your swaying feet. 

“No, he…” you start, then exhale a trembling sigh. 

You don’t want to lie, but you don’t want to make it seem as scary as it feels. You twist your hands in your lap and ramble in a quiet confession. “I was walking to our picnic table to study, and he snuck up behind me, and I had my walkman on so I couldn’t hear him, and… I’m just— I’m just a baby, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

Eddie’s brows pinch as his face twists in something short of confusion. “Uh, yeah. It is,” he monotones, then scoffs out a laugh. “Honestly, I thought he knew better than to mess with you after what happened last time.”

He’s talking about that evening at the arcade — the last time you had the utter displeasure of running into the douchebag of Hawkins High. The whole “the only shooting Jason Carver does is into a kleenex” thing from when summer still felt like summer. 

Everything’s grayer now. And colder. 

You feel a lot of the same. 

You shoot Eddie a half-hearted glare at the memory he won’t let you live down. He meets it with a crooked, pink grin — your own personal sunshine when the real thing is hidden behind thick clouds. You melt for him all over again like you always do, feeling like a child as he plucks pieces of dead leaves from your hair.

“There,” he announces as he untangles a sizable yellow leaf from the strands. It floats down to his dirty sneakers. He cups your jaw in his abnormally warm hands and gives you one more once over. “I think that’s all of ‘em, babe.”

“Yeah?” you ask, just to be sure, as you smooth your palm over the back of your hair.

“Yep. You’re good as new. Beautiful like always.”

You roll your eyes with a poorly hidden smile. You’ve been together too long for him to flirt with you like he does. You wonder if he’ll ever stop, or if he’ll treat every day with you like it’s the very first.

“Always a charmer, huh?” you hum with a lovesick grin.

“For you,” the boy croons, leaning closer so he can press a kiss to your mouth. His rosy lips smack audibly against yours in a chaste peck that leaves you grieving the moment he’s gone.

The worn heel of Eddie’s sneakers scuff against the rocky concrete of the parking lot when he parts from you. He goes without a word. You watch him with a gaping look of bemusement.

“What— Where are you going?” you call to him, trying ignore the melodramatic twisting of your stomach. 

You’d already missed class — too shaken after seeing Jason and too needy for Eddie. You thought he might keep you company until next period. God knows he’ll take any excuse to ditch Mr. Kaminsky’s chem class.

Eddie turns back around to look at you but doesn’t stop inching towards the entrance. He shrugs his leather-clad shoulders with a cheeky grin. “Oh. You know. Just got regular business to attend to.”

You deflate. Regular business for Eddie Munson often means complete and utter chaos. 

“Don’t do anything stupid… Please.”

“Me?” Eddie scoffs, bringing a hand to his chest as though you’ve wounded him in some way. “Of course not!”

—————

Eddie roams the vacant halls of Hawkins High with his hands balled into fists. He’s got no intention of using them for evil — Yoda always said to use the Force for knowledge and defense, never for attack. They more so shake with the withheld fury of not being able to avenge you. 

What kinda boyfriend would be if some douchebag was fucking with his girl and he just let it happen?

Then he finds Jason in the empty corridor of the west wing. He comes out of the bathroom in all his muscled glory, dressed in baggy sweatpants and a too-fitted tank top, and it feels sort of kismet. 

If fate didn’t want Eddie to do something, fate wouldn’t have put the douchebag directly in his way, right?

“Hey, Jason!” Eddie lilts in a tone so chipper it has to be sarcasm. “What are you doing down here?”

Jason meets the boy’s wide grin with a look of bitter confusion. “None of your business, freak,” he bites in response, walking past the wild-haired brunette as though he wasn’t there at all.

“I beg to differ, tough guy.” The nickname spills from his mouth, coated in venom. “Everything you do became my business when you started messing with my girl.”

Jason’s gruff laughter fills the vacant hallway. He turns back around, flashing a pearly-white smile. “Wallflower’s still with you, huh?” he singsongs, then shrugs sympathetically. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little surprised to hear that.”

“Yeah. She is, actually,” Eddie nods with a beam. “As a matter of fact, we just went on a double date with Steve and Chrissy. Harrington told me to say hi, by the way.”

The blonde boy goes suddenly grim at the mention of the girl who got away. His thin-lipped smile ebbs into a frown. His chiseled features sharpen when his jaw clenches. “Watch it, freak.”

Those words stopped being threatening the first time he said them. After the millionth or more, it just got redundant. 

Eddie huffs, impatient and annoyed. 

“Alright. Here’s how this is gonna go, okay? Seeing as you’re a little toodense to listen when my girl told you to leave us alone, I’m gonna spell it out for you,” he monotones, inching towards the boy with his hands on his hips. “Either keep messing with us, and I crack that pretty face of yours, or you can leave to be a douchebag with a nice jawline another day… How’s that sound?”

A beat passes. 

A laugh sputters from Jason’s mouth a second later. 

Apparently, he finds Eddie’s newfound confidence as strange as it feels. He might be a loudmouth sometimes, but he’s certainly no fighter. And even though he knows this just as well as the next person, the anger of not being taken seriously stings like a searing knife in his chest.

“Oh, and I have razor blades hidden in my hair, by the way,” Eddie monotones, using his freakazoid reputation to his advantage. He smiles when Jason goes somber. “Yep. Mm-hmm. All up in there—”

“You’re fucking crazy, man,” the blonde boy scoffs, choosing not to call his bluff and walking away entirely.

Eddie waits until Jason turns the corner to let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. It trembles on the way out, forced through a tightening chest. He wipes his sweaty palms on his black ripped jeans — not a fighter, indeed.

“Razor blades?” a familiar voice calls from a little ways down the hall, accompanied by a soft giggle that sounds like heaven.

Eddie lifts his head and finds you walking towards him — turning the opposite corner that Jason had just left from. Your hands are tucked into the sleeves of the sweater that swallows you whole. You wrap your arms around yourself, making yourself as small as possible yet taking every ounce of his attention just the same.

With furrowed brows, his gaze darts between you and the empty corridor. “How did you…?” he asks, then trails off with a laugh. “I didn’t even know you were here.”

“I’m Wallflower, remember?” you grin, wearing the name people use to taunt you like armor. “I’m basically the queen of hiding in plain sight.”

“Yeah?” Eddie hums with a smirk. His smile widens when you inch closer to him.

You shrug. “It’s just a superpower. No big deal.”

His fingers curl around the outsides of your elbows when you’re standing toe-to-toe. His touch is warm and firm, but still gentle as he squeezes you. He rubs at your arms with his thumbs. 

“So…” he singsongs and tilts his head to the side, making his wild curls bunch at his shoulders. His chocolate eyes dance with sincerity and amusement. “What’d ya think?”

“I think you were very brave,” you answer honestly, but with an inflection that sounds like you’re teasing him.

Eddie’s gaze narrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, Eds… You’re a nerd who plays D&D for twelve hours straight, and Jason lifts weights in his spare time.”

“You don’t think I could take him?”

“I know you couldn’t,” you retort, too sincerely for his liking. 

The sting in his chest ebbs when you uncurl your arms to splay your palms over his collarbones. Your smile sparkles, quite like the twinkle in your eye. 

“But you’d try. For me. And I, for one, think that’s very brave of you, Ser Munson.”

You’re right. About all of it. 

Eddie would fight for your honor like it was one of his Dungeons and Dragons campaigns. And he’d lose — quite miserably, probably — because what Jason Carver lacks in brains, he makes up twice in muscle. But you’d patch him up after, and it’d be worth it.

Instead of saying all that and stooping down to the sap you are, Eddie deflects with a joke. “Ooh,” he croons lowly. “Ser Munson, huh? I like the sound of that… We should save that one for later.”

You swat at him, but your softness lingers.

Eddie’s boyish laughter fills the vacant halls. His smile is too pretty not to kiss.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Grad school Spencer in his little white coat and glasses getting his chem PhD and he just spills everything and goes 🫠 because he sees English lit major reader walking by from the lap window.

because I will die on the hill that this actually happened.

hiiiii 💕

like 23 year old phd candidate spencer in his white lab coat is everything to me and i took some liberties so bear with me :)

spencer reid x female reader

So he’s working in his lab doing something sciencey and smart

He’s already a phd in math and engineering which makes him something a myth in his departments

Part of his program makes him work as a TA for a chemistry course which is how he meets you

You’re a Literature major and Sociology minor and in his Chemistry class. It’s filled with many students, but Spencer wouldn’t need an eidetic memory to remember you

He never found the courage to talk to you, thinking that you’ve probably already have a boyfriend on a count for how pretty and smart you are.

Every Tuesday and Thursday he sees you walk by his lab. He forces himself to not recognize the pattern, but it’s impossible when you’re so magnetic to look at and think about and patterns are so recognizable to his brain. And out of risk of you thinking he’s a stalker, he decides it’s safer if he ignores you walk by

What Spencer doesn’t realize is that you’ve also noticed his pattern of being in the lab the same days you’re in the Sociology wing.

One day he’s busy his lab, and he can see you through the big picture window. He feels his hands grip the beaker and his grateful that the chemical liquids he’s working with today are something as simple as water

As he gazes through the big window he watches you walk with a big stack books in you arms

He walks to the sink, needing an extra 30mLs of water in his beaker, but as his does he accidentally trips over a stool and crashes to the floor

He jumps up, and sees you look at him in horror. Which wasn’t the way he planned on you looking at him (he forced the thoughts of the various ways you could look at him from his mind)

Suddenly you rush into the lab and just as Spencer tries to stammer about maintaining proper hygiene protocols in the lab, your hands are gripping his wrist

“You’re bleeding” you say, and Spencer watches as you maintain steady, tight pressure on his open wound to stop the bleeding

“I didn’t realize” Spencer says with a stained smile. He’s planned on how he’d approach you over and over again in his mind ever since he saw you in the Chemistry class he TA’ed last semester “I was preoccupied”

“It’s alright, Doctor Reid. You’re not going to need stitches or anything. But let me put some bandaging on it.”

Spencer gulps, as he tries to remember how to breathe. All he can focus on is how your hair frames your face perfectly and how your perfume smells like earl grey tea and honey and apples

“You can call me Spencer, Y/N” He whispers, listening to as you practically drag him by the wrist to the first aid kit

“You know my name?” You ask, a look or wonder and amusement washes over your face

Spencer jerks his head back not in pain nor in discomfort, but rather in confusion. “Of course I do, why wouldn’t I know your name. You’re Y/N.”

You lick your bottom lip as a small smile plays on the corner of your mouth. “there were a lot of students in your class last semester. I’m not very good at chemistry. Nor do I have a particularly memorable face.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows in disbelief. You gently placed a bandage on his cut. “You did very well in the class. And as for your face, it’s very memorable. More than memorable, honestly. It’s gorgeous—oh, no I didn’t—I don’t intend to be forward…”

“I think you got a memorable face too, Doc” You say, smiling as you sit knee to knee on the lab stools

“It’s Spencer,” He says, blushing as he nudged his hand forward to just barely touch yours

You stand, smiling as you do so, “Doc suits you. You’re kinda a legend and you’re really cute when you flush like that when I call you Doc”

[hearts4golbach]

could u do johnnie guilbert smut? maybe with him being sub? like whimpering and shit 💀 idk how else to explain lmao 😭

Disco Stick. (Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.)

warning: consensual sex under the influence of alcohol.

im not sure if all of this is true so if its not pretend it is!

-

The club was definitely not my first choice of entertainment, but it'd do. Me and F/n pulled up to the most popular club near us, hoping we'd meet new guys to spice up our boring lives.

we got in surprisingly quick and went to find somewhere to sit and get drinks. we settled on the bar, sitting in the very far corner so we wouldnt bother anyone. I ordered my usual while f/n decided not to drink at all so she could drive us home. sadly, next time id be designated driver.

"its boring over here, once you get your drink lets go walk around or something." she offered, sipping her sprite.

i nodded in agreement. shorty after, i finally got my drink and we got up to walk around. i sipped on my drink as we began to walk into a crowd. i was worried id spill it. i pushed through a couple people carefully, making not to disturb anyone. 2 guys with black hair stood in front of me, i began to swerve around them before one turned around, bumping into me. luckily, my drink didnt get spilt.

"shit, i am so sorry." i heard an old, oddly familiar voice apologize.

"its all good," i looked up to see his face. "no fucking way, johnnie? do you remember me from chemistry?"

excitement twinkled in his eyes as he smiled. "yeah, you were the best lab partner i ever had. how could i forget?"

"i remember you too!" jake said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"sorry, jake! how could i forget you, you always made chemistry genuinely funny!"

"junior year chem was the shit with the 3 of us!" johnnie added as he giggled.

"we should catch up! ill buy you 2 a drink!" i yell over the blaring music.

"im down." he grinned. i grabbed his hand and we walked back to the bar, f/n and jake behind us.

as we sat back down, i introduced them to f/n. "this is f/n, she didnt go to the same highschool as us but we went to middle school together and weve been friends ever since."

jake shook her hand and johnnie waved. "im jake, and this is johnnie." he said, tilting his head towards johnnie.

"hey! its nice to meet you guys." she smiled sweetly.

we spent a couple more hoirs drinking and reminiscing over all of the awkward but funny moments we had together. the three of us were the chemistry group as people would say. although we fucked off a lot, all of us ended with a 95% or higher because we made that class bearable. id rather not talk about my other grades, though.

by the time we were leaving, me and johnnie were drunk as fucking sailors. we held onto eachother, stuck like glue as we giggled over everything. we frequently tripped, unsure of our footing causing f/n or jake to help us regain our shared balance. i had my arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other holding onto the arm that was wrapped around my waist. me and johmnie clicked, just like old times.

f/n and jake threw us in the backseat. johnnie laid his head on my shoulder and i rested my head on top of his. i was nearly asleep before i was awoken by johnnie gagging loudly. "ew, what the fuck was that about?" i slurred.

"i felt like it." he laughed. i rolled my eyes and got out of the car as we parked. i dragged johnnie out behind me and gripped onto him the same way i had before.

while i was drifiting off, f/n and jake had decided theyd just stay the night at our apartment. me and johnnie were estatic about our sleepover. "why dont we just share your bed?" he smiled and laughed, making his eyes squint.

i sighed contently. "that sounds amazing. you can be my pillow." i smiled sweetly.

"of course." johnnie slurred, following me into my room.

"goodnight, lovebugs, sleep tight." f/n teased while jake ooo'd from the living room.

i laughed at her comment and laid in bed next to johnnie. he looked deeply into my eyes, looking like he had something to say but holding back. but i knew what he wanted to say, and i wanted to say it too. "i was in love with you all throughout highschool." i confessed.

"really?" his face brightened, "i was, too. theres not a day where you dont cross my mind, still." he admitted.

"me too, i was so scared to reach out. i wish you said something before we graduated." i frowned.

"me too." he whispered, his eyes flickering down to my lips then back up into my eyes. his blue eyes pierced through mine, making my insides turn to mush.

we gazed into eachothers eyes for a solid minute before i leaned in and kissed him. he immediately kissed me back, grabbing my waist and pulling me in. it was passionate and needy, making chills run down my spine. i pressed into him, wanting more. his tongue swiped my bottom lip. i ran my fingers through his hair before flipping us over and sitting on top of him. his hands carefully slid down to my ass, giving it a gentl squeeze before moving down to grip my thighs.

johnnie pulled back. "is this okay?" he asked, breathing heavily.

i nodded fast, pulling him back in. i grinded down onto his hard member, making him whimper quietly into my mouth. he began to take off my shirt, breaking the kiss long enough that i could get his off, too. i lazily unbuttoned his pants, not bothering to break the kiss. i felt his hot breath heavy on my face. i pulled his jeans down just enough so i could see his boxers.

"fuck, y/n," johnnie whispered, pulling my shorts and underwear off from under my skirt. he didnt bother removing it.

i desperately oulled his boxers down, revealing his hardened cock. i bit my lip as i looked up at him. "youre okay with this, right?"

"yes, please, i need you so bad." johnnie moaned quietly, gripping my hips as i

lined up my entrance with his tip.

i slowly began to sit, just as eager to feel him inside of me as he was. "you dont know how long ive wanted to do this, pretty boy. fuck, you feel so good." i moaned, leaning down to kiss his neck, i sucked and bit, leaving dark hickeys all over his neck and chest.

his fingertips left prints in my hips, which were most likely going to bruise in the morning but the pressure was perfect. he melted under my touch, whimpereing curses under his breath.

i sped up the pace, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. "youre so amazing," i moaned, placing my hands on his chest and tracing his tattoos.

"fuck, if you keep doing that im going to cum even quicker." he admitted, throwing his head back and biting down onto his lip.

i swiftly bounced on his cock, moaning and praises filled the room. "you fuck me so good." i tell johnnie, making his cock twitch inside of me.

"im going to cum," he whimpered and moaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

"cum with me, johnnie." i cursed under my breath.

my body tensed as i felt my stomach swirl and knot. i hit my climax, slowly riding his dick to help him ride out his high as well. he pulled out and came all over my stomach. "fuck." he said one last time, his body going limp.

i dropped down next to him, pulling the covers over our naked bodies. "i needed that so bad." i admitted before placing a soft kiss on his lips.

wrapped in eachothers arms, we slept like rocks.

[bberetd]

If you were the wedding planner of a Luiasy wedding how would you arrange it? What would the location be? What would the theme of the wedding be? And what extras would you add towards the outfits of the bride and groom?

Aaaaahhh this took me forever to get to 😭 @kelbreyworshipper I’ll be real with you, when you sent me this ask, I was walking to my chem final, and I read your prompt and I was like “ummmmm 😳”

Buuut I think it’s safe to say I had enough time to cook, plus it was a fun challenge, so I hope you enjoy this! It's pretty long, so read at your own pace hehe

@peaches2217 (hopefully this lifts your spirits <3) @vulpixfairy1985 @itsavee4117 @supergay-64 @pepperycar @silenzahra, I think you guys may also like this! And @artycomicfangirl you as well!

First of all, I’ve chosen this day in particular to post the becaaauuuseeee…

Today (or yesterday wherever you are) is/was the one-year anniversary of my very first Luaisy drawing! BOY how far we’ve come. Now without further ado…

= LUAISY WEDDING =

This wedding was months in the making. Peach and Mario self-appointed themselves (even though it was obvious from the get-go) to the maid of honor and best man, so they worked tirelessly to ensure everything was perfect and better.

Each Mario lady had an essential part to play in this wedding:

Peach Maid of honor. Her role was to find the best venue for the wedding and send out invites to the Mushroom Kingdom and the other kingdoms within Sarasaland. But Peach being Peach with her overenthusiasm for weddings, carried 95% of the wedding planning and wedding day on her back. Of course, everyone gave her her flowers in the end. Mario definitely made sure she knew she was appreciated

Daisy was a 5'11" sack of nerves for her wedding, so Peach took it in her hands to calm her down, assuring her that it was completely normal to feel that way, and had to keep reminding her of how much Luigi loved her and that he wants this as much as she does. She also reminded Daisy that she should be elated because this is her special day. Peach would know all about it. ;)

Peach ran through the wedding, had multiple (maybe more than needed) rehearsals, and coordinated the wedding dinner that Daisy and Luigi would have.

Pauline Bridesmaid, wedding designer, and performer. I headcanon Pauline to be the most fluent in fashion and designing among the Mario ladies, and it was her who Peach took sewing up. Peach invited Pauline to a lot of her and Daisy's shopping trips for wedding dresses, getting her advice on what would suit her and Luigi's taste for their wedding day.

Pauline also performed at their wedding, doing solo performances, and then concluding with her band.

Rosalina Bridesmaid and vow writer. Even though Rosa is not a woman of many words, when she does have something to say, people are listening.

Out of the ladies, she's the biggest bookworm, spending time in her observatory reading and writing when she can. This makes her an amazing poet. All her close friends find it hard to believe that she doesn't have a significant other. She has shared some of her poems with her friends, and it was a wonder how none of them fell in love with her.

But Daisy called her up (or down) to help her write her vows, and Rosa was more than happy to help. She helped her organize her thoughts and feelings for Luigi and what their relationship truly meant to her. Rosa also helped to plan, outline, revise, and maybe wrote some parts of it herself.

She oversaw all parts of the writing process, yet, when Daisy recited those words back to Luigi on their wedding day, she reacted as if it were her very first time hearing it; tears in her eyes and hands clasped together. She was so proud.

Toadette Bridesmaid and master chef. And even better... free of charge! She was cooking up a storm with the help of other Toad chefs for Daisy and Luigi's special day. The two still provided her and her crew a very generous tip (Luigi is loaded here).

=====

Mario

Best man. With Mario and Luigi, it was pretty much the same story with Peach and Daisy, except Luigi was ten times worse. It took Mario a great deal of effort and convincing Luigi to not call off the wedding, just because of the mere thought of Daisy possibly having second thoughts.

Mario did everything a typical best man would do at a wedding and more, making sure everything was in order, and not a single detail was out of place. Right before, during, and after the wedding, he used at least 3 full rolls of tissue paper.

Another thing on the performance line-up... I'm gonna go ahead and yoink @silenzahra's musician bros hc and say that Mario does a surprise performance for Luigi and Daisy. It’s a song that is a testament to his and Luigi’s bond, which obviously immediately gets Luigi choked up.

As Mario was singing and playing the guitar, it felt so wrong for Mario to be singing their song on his own, so Luigi joined him on the stage, grabbing a mic left behind from Pauline's band group and singing alongside him. Cue forehead touches, and lots of hugging, crying, and ‘I love you’s.

====

Wedding Location and Theme

I 100% believe that their wedding would take place outside. Daisy and Luigi wanted a large, open space with a nice landscape view with not too many manmade buildings. So uh, Brooklyn was out of the question, not that they minded. Daisy decided to make use of the Chai Kingdom (one of the four Kingdoms in Sarasaland) and its naturistic feel.

And then the post-wedding dinner and performances would all take place here:

(Basically, just imagine all of this but green and orange-themed lol)

As for the theme, I feel that they’d go with a fairytale-themed wedding! That, or a forest-themed wedding; green and orange are earthy colors, so I want their wedding to reflect that.

Again, yoinking @silenzahra's Luigi the bookworm hc, I’d like to think that one of the ways Luigi and Daisy grew closer was from reading together, and the National Book Days in Sarasaland. Once Daisy got more into reading, Luigi encouraged her to venture out in her castle’s library and find some genres that she liked. They both noticed that she seemed to gravitate towards stories that were more adventure-packed, as well as fairytales, mythological, and fictional stories. Daisy has a very active imagination and loves otherworldly visuals, so Luigi was more than happy to incorporate that into their wedding theme.

The bridesmaids and maid of honor are decked in golden dresses (for ya girl), and the groomsmen and best man are decked in emerald green (for ya boy). For the wedding guests’ attire… there is not a single trace of black to be found! The wedding looked like a rainbow that threw up all the colors in the visible spectrum.

====

Have some drawings of the important people! (and my wacky attempt to shade gold material)

Bridesmaids: Pauline and Rosalina

To honor Pride Month… let’s just say Rosa is looking for that special someone… right beside her ;)

Lumas

I’m adding the Lumas (plus Lumalee of course!) to be the flower children! The wedding would be decked with 75-100 lumas of all different colors and purposes. They would be the ambiance for the wedding, especially when the sun sets, and at nighttime. The wedding would still use fairy lights in case the Lumas didn't cooperate (was never an issue). But... just imagine dozens of bright moving lights with sparkles trailing behind them in the night sky.

Groomsmen, Ring Bearer, Maid of Honor and Best Man (tumblr has me on a pic limit here 😮‍💨): Wario, Waluigi, and Toad; Yoshi; Mario and Peach

Yeah, Wario and Waluigi were invited, as long as they promised to behave. And if not, Daisy and her family will set em straight… and Mario if they even dare think about ruining his baby brother’s day. The two weren’t so fond of the dress code at first, but they sucked it up. Eventually, emerald green grew on them.

Wario: I look like a leprechaun!

Waluigi: Wah! How bad can this possibly be? (Iykyk)

Also, the tie Mario is wearing was handcrafted by Luigi when they were kids. ;’)

And of course…

Bride and Groom: Daisy and Luigi

She on dem high heels 🤭

I also really wanted to draw Daisy’s dad sending her off. I absolutely LOVE @itsavee4117’s interpretation of him (aka King “Marshmallow” Cris), so I’m yoinking him here toooo~

====

Post-Wedding

Like I said earlier, plenty of food will be provided by Toadette and her crew, and there will be endless games. They would mostly be Mario Party-styled, but there would also be some sports like tennis or mini-golf. That all happens after the newlyweds have their dance and cake. Let’s just say for an itty-bitty second of time, they recreate the dance of all dances.

After all the fun has been had, the two are driven into the moonlight by Toadsworth with a “JUST HITCHED” sign on the back of his Parade Kart from MK Double Dash. They’d be transported in this very familiar fashion.

;)

====

And that’s it! Hopefully I didn’t make the wedding seem too boring or sane for them, or made anything out of character for them. I know I did a lot more than you asked for, but I had way too much fun with it lol. Wanted to do our beloveds justice to the fullest. Let me know what you guys think, and feel free to add on to it!

[wasteland-wrecker]

ily..... sorry if you've ever answered this but have you ever drawn modern au gage and toby? or do you have hcs?

Hey there! <3

I’m not a big au fan but… here we go! ✨

Thank you for asking, I have this big headcanon:

Gage is not so good in bed. He is probably a virgin, let me explain you why.

🔞🔞🔞

From what we know about his past and the way he talks I'm pretty sure he's never had s3x with anyone or at least no long-term, positive experience.

Lines like "…you wouldn’t want nothin to do with me, not with the fucked up life I’ve had” denotes he is AWARE of the cruelty of the world he lives in. He has seen shit his whole life. I don’t think he had the time to even think about s3x.

Or “I ain’t never done anything like this. Ain’t sure it’d work, you know?”

When you ask him about your relationship he says “… I don’t like talking about feelings and shit. We’re… we’re great, you know that”. Zero experience, come on.

This means he gets embarrassed and that he’s worried about other people’s opinions (which is quite strange for a wastelander and a raider) one of his lines is like “if I die killed by a bug, tell everyone I accidentally stomped on my gun and killed myself”. (Yeah, who cares???)

And, speaking of raiders, he’s lived his whole life as one of them and when he talks to you (a complete stranger!!) in private he calls them “fucking raiders” (you okay man?! Need to talk or something?!).

It seems clear that none of these raiders have ever made its way into his sensitive little heart. He’s faking, pretending to be something he’s truly not.

And I don’t think he’s ever had anything to do with settlers. I can’t even imagine him r4ping someone, from that point of view he has a strong integrity (at most he’ll piss on your corpse ✨)

No one has ever made him feel safe, he says that to you when he opens up. Gage must completely trust his partner to have s3x with him/her/them. He must be sure he won’t be betrayed or killed.

And his past makes it clear that he no longer trusts anyone, apart from himself.

I might also add that the fact that he doesn't take baths indicates a sort of disinterest in the subject.

Gage often complains during trips and it means that he worries about stuff (like rads, chems, alcohol, bad smells - yeah he does I can prove it).

Do you think someone so attentive to what surrounds him and the consequences of his actions wouldn’t care about sexual diseases and sleeping with just anyone? I’m sorry but I don't see it.

He surely m4sturbates often, I can agree with that. He has very indecent thoughts as well and he’s horny af. He probably likes it rough, yes. (He loves to read erotic books OF THIS I’M SURE 10000%) But don't come and tell me that he is a S3x Lord Master or something because I have an hard time believing that (surely with a good experience he can become one, but not when you first know him).

Last, but not least, let’s not forget the fact that his name’s GAGE and he wears a fuckin CAGE all the time (to keep people away from him). The end.

Alright uh, my hand slipped on this hc lol, let me know if you want more anon and I’ll answer you in another post 😭 (shorter I promise) or you can read this post

[nevadancitizen]

-> O LORD, O LORD (WATCH OVER ME)

synopsis: joshua graham talks an awful lot about god and his blessings, and it leaves you curious as to what prayer is actually like.

word count: 1.8k

characters: joshua graham, courier six! reader

trigger warnings: mormonism, discussions of god + jesus christ

notes: this can be read as platonic or romantic, wasn't sure what direction i wanted this to go in :P also it was really hard to find information on mormonism without touching any mormon-affiliated sites but i rekindled my love for wikipedia, the free online encyclopedia that anyone can edit!! everyone say thank you wikipedia <3333

The Lords of post-apocalyptic America are usually the ones with the most money, the most influence, the most soldiers on the ground. There is no bearded man in the sky, no Adam and no Eve, no christenings and no afterlife. When you die, you die, and there’s nothing beyond that. Nothing. Nothing remains. Someone might remember you for a little while after, but not for long. 

And yet, somewhere in the cracks and caves of the canyon of Zion, there is still worship. There is still prayer and reverence and love for God and Jesus Christ and all his children. 

But this is the first time you’ve heard of this mysterious “Jesus Christ” character and the weird way Joshua Graham talks when speaking of him.

He’s usually straightforward and blunt with his (and the Dead Horses’) needs and words, but when the topic of God comes around, he speaks in an almost poetic way – flowery, ornate. You usually only hear that type of talk from someone that’s day-tripping on Mentats, trying to sound smarter than they actually are.

But Joshua is smart. He’s a translator, with knowledge of language pouring over the cusp of his lips. His people are entranced by the inner workings of a professionally-crafted firearm, and he’s no different. He’s the prodigal son of the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter-Day Saints. He’s basically a goddamn genius – in multiple fields, no less. 

It’s only reasonable that you’d want to pick his brain as you sit, cross-legged, on the ground of Angel Cave, loading bullets into magazines. Joshua sits a few feet away, meticulously checking the numerous .45 pistols that lay across the table over and over again.

You clear your throat and the sound echoes a little in the small cave. “Graham?”

He glances at you, then returns his gaze to the guns in front of him. “Yes?”

“Is it – uh, this God thing…” You scratch the side of your nose. “You… I don’t really understand it. I mean, following a few laws and receiving eternal salvation and all that sounds good, but I just… don’t get it.”

“I understand,” Joshua says. He flips the empty pistol in his hand so that he’s looking down the barrel and pulls the trigger. A dull click. “Most survivors think that there is nothing more to this world: just a well-trodden trail that they’re supposed to walk, from the house of Birth to the house of Death.”

He flips the pistol so that he’s holding the grip and slides the magazine back in. “Those looking for faith had simply been trying to find offshoots in this path, other houses to occupy. That is, if they ever actually felt the calling of God, even if it was the voice of a false one. They say that there are only two houses, and only dirt connecting them. But this is untrue.”

You continue thumbing bullets into the magazine. “How do you know? I mean, I don’t want to be disrespectful, but…”

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” Joshua reassures. “I’ve met a menagerie of people, seen grotesque creatures that were birthed from mutations and chems instead of God’s perfect hands. I appreciate that you’re approaching this with an air of curiosity rather than judgement.”

Joshua sets the pistol on the side of the table of the pistols he’s already checked. He turns in his chair so that he’s facing you and sets his elbows on his knees. The pale blue of his eyes are stark against the burn scars of his skin as he looks down at you. “What would you like to know?”

Clips of his voice flash through your mind – “You’re a good neighbor to us,” “Good news is our most valuable commodity,” “The fire that had kept me alive was love. Their love. God’s love.” – but it settles on one: “It never stops burning. My skin. Every day, I have to unwind the bandages and replace them with fresh ones. Exposing my body to the air is like living through it again. But it's better to be clean than comfortable.”

“Well…” You shift under Joshua’s piercing gaze. “You’ve stayed loyal to God, right? All your life. You worshipped and prayed and… yeah.”

Your eyes flicker up to meet Joshua’s. The bandages that cover him in his entirety give nothing away. “So why did he let you be burned like that? If he’s, y’know, all-loving, all-forgiving, shouldn’t he have guided you away from Caesar? Or, let… let you die?”

Joshua stares at you, then blinks once, twice. It’s like he wants to be sure of his words before he actually speaks. “There are some things that you don’t want to do and you pledge to yourself that you won’t do. You forbid yourself, and then, suddenly…”

His eyebrows furrow. “They happen all by themselves. You don’t even have time to think about them: they just happen and that’s it. Then you’re left just watching yourself with surprise – disgust – and convincing yourself that it wasn’t your fault, it just happened all by itself.” 

Joshua’s hands come together and the bandages make an abrasive sound as he folds his hands, his elbows still on his knees. “But things don’t happen by themselves. The Legion didn’t build itself – I had a hand in it. And so this is my punishment. My atonement for not noticing how things were changing day-to-day. Not noticing how translating became giving orders, how giving orders became leading in battle, how leading in battle became training, punishing, terrorizing.

“I am a wicked man, with a wicked soul. I can only pray to God that this is enough for everything I’ve done.”

Your eyes return to the half-loaded magazine in your hand, and the bullet in the other. You roll the bullet in your fingers as you think. It’s… weird, to you, Joshua’s relationship with God. He doesn’t sound all that loving and forgiving. So why worship him? Why make and keep covenants with him? It sounds contradictory and hypocritical.

“Okay.” You look up at Joshua again as you thumb the bullet into the magazine. “Then… praying. What’s praying? I mean, I’ve seen you doing the…” You set the magazine in your lap and bring your hands together, palm-to-palm. “Before eating. I know that’s part of prayer, ‘cause you told me. But can you, like, hear him? Or is it like talking to a wall?”

“I cannot hear him, no,” Joshua says. “But I know he is listening, and I offer every prayer in the name of Jesus Christ, who is a medium through which man can converse with God. I feel him touch my heart, and guide my mind with his blessings and counsel.”

“Blessings and counsel sound nice,” you say. “But what do they look like? Like, how do they manifest?”

Joshua tilts his head slightly, the bandages on his neck making a soft sound. “Rain in a time of drought. Dryness in a time of flooding. A bullet that makes contact in just the right place. A bullet that just barely misses. God’s blessings are diverse and many.”

“Sounds like I could use some of those blessings.” You laugh under your breath as you go back to loading the magazine. A few seconds pass as you fill it, then move on to filling the next. An idea pops into your head as your hands continue their repetitive actions. 

Why shouldn’t you be able to get a blessing? From what you understand, it only takes a few words and an invocation of a holy name. It should be easy to get one – right? Or maybe not. Either way, you’d need it, especially with the way Joshua described the examples of blessings. Divine intervention sounds like it could literally be a lifesaver.

“What if, uh…” You scratch your cheek. “What if I want one of these blessings?”

Joshua narrows his eyes, the reddish burns of his skin cutting into the blue of his irises. “Do you… wish to pray? Do you want me to pray over you?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you say. You glance up at Joshua, then look down at the magazine. Your hands fumble a bit, then correct themselves. “I don’t… really know how to, though.”

“I will lead you in prayer, if that’s what you truly want,” Joshua says.

All it takes from you is a single nod.

He gets up out of his chair and kneels before you, resting on the heels of his boots. You look up at him, and he’s looking down at you. You could swear he’s looking at you with some kind of hope in his eyes, but it’s hard to tell in the low light of the torches that illuminate the cave.

“Come on. Up on your knees.” Joshua takes the magazine from your hands and sets it aside.

You sit up on your knees, resting on your heels, mimicking Joshua. You clear your throat nervously. “I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay.” Joshua takes your hands in his, cradling your fingers with his and resting his thumbs on your knuckles. The bandages on his fingers are abrasive, but in a comforting type of way. “As I said, I’ll lead. Now bow your head and close your eyes.”

You do as he says, and his rumbling voice starts the prayer. 

“Dear God, I thank you for this day, and I thank you for your allowance for life to continue prospering in this wasteland. Now, allow me to direct your attention to one of your creations: the one I’m praying with right now.

“Allow me to pray over this courier. I pray that no matter where they go, no matter how far off the trail of fate they fall, you will watch over them. Even if they fall to temptation – any temptation – that you will still protect them with all that you can, for I know you are merciful, and I know you are loving. 

“In this world filled with defilement and savagery and violence and barbarity, the only comfort I can turn to is you. Allow me this comfort. Allow me to know that this courier, no matter what they do, no matter what sin they fall to or transgression they commit, is safe. In Jesus Christ’s name, amen.”

Joshua lets go of your fingers and brings his hands away from yours. 

You open your eyes and look up at him. You glance around the cave – nothing’s different. Everything seems to be exactly the same.

“Is that it?” You ask, then register how disrespectful that sounds. “I mean – I just didn’t think it would be that easy.”

“Yes, the prayer is over.” Joshua stands, then holds out his hand to help you up. You take it.

“Now, please, make yourself sparse.” He glances at you, then his eyes flicker over to the table stacked with .45 pistols. “I have some of my own praying to do.”

[eupheme]

— clean slate [into the fire, part v]

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, sex for favors, sub/dom elements, canon-typical descriptive violence and death, references to blood/gore, anti-ghoul sentiments, physical violence against reader, hurt/comfort, kissing

a/n: please mind the tags! this chapter got twice as long as the others (maybe I didn't want it to end, haha!) and there was a good break, so to keep things consistent, I am splitting it in half! both are being posted today though, so you don't have to wait 💖

Always said he did this shit for the love of the game. But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.

(or - they took something from the Ghoul, and he’s here to collect)

The afternoon edges into night, and he tells himself each hour is the last one he'll think about you.

The Ghoul had waited for you to look back. Stock-still in the swirling dust that bit at his skin. A white-knuckled grip around the thick coil of rope. 

You hadn’t. 

His hand still reaches to scrubs at his neck, his jaw. To wipe you away or rub you in, he’s not sure. 

It doesn't fucking matter. 

He's stuck around a long time. Enough to see generations of families grow old and then die. The last few weeks are no more than a blip, in his far too-long life.

Hell - he's spent more time underground, than with you. 

But something prickles at him. Lingering like a bad trip, leaving his teeth clenching and jaw aching as he finishes out the bounty.

It's messy. 

It shouldn't have been. Should have been easy - but he's aching for a fight, something to take his mind off things. He's antagonistic. 

Could've finished everything up from afar, but he ends up in close range. Another scar marring his chest, new splatters streaked across his dark coat. 

It aches, a deep bruise as it heals. 

Still only slightly dulling the itch of irritation.

I haven't lied about anything.  

Didn’t last night mean anything to you?

It's sometime the next morning, after a night of a starless sky closing in around him, that he gives in. 

Heading the way you went without thought, and when he does notice, he tells himself it's only because he needs more chems. That it’d be a shame to lose a supplier as good as you. 

That it's easier, for both of you to stick together. 

Maybe that's why he was careless. Knowing deep down, it would be easier to find a corpse later than to haul around a bounty, kicking and screaming.

The small sliver left of another man, from  another life, knows he was cruel. That anger had turned him into a viper. Had always been good at striking first. Self-preservation beaten into him after two-hundred years - an old, festering wound. 

He doesn’t know how to apologize anymore, but he can already think of a few ways to distract you. 

Maybe you’ll forget completely, if he's thorough. 

The Ghoul is faster than you are. Needs less rest, less food. Has already plotted just how far you can get in a day. Your footprints faded as packed earth leads to woods, but you’re not the type to wander, and there's only a few settlements in the miles ahead. 

Halfway to his destination, when his eyes snag on a patch of rocks. A broken bits of branches on the trees just before it. There's something smeared across the stone - tasting like iron, when the tip of a finger brings it to his tongue.

Something ancient twists in his stomach, awakening from a slumber. 

Backing up, he's able to piece together the struggle. Seeing the flattened grass, the heavy boot prints, melding with the smaller ones. 

Finding a body, fallen off to the side - angling off the rock with the stain. Something familiar about the look of him.

A boot sinks into their side, rolling them over. A curl of a lip - he recognizes them. One of the two bounty hunters they’d fun into. 

He had hated their eyes on you when they blew through that town.

Something had prickled at him then, but he had ignored it. A grit of his jaw - should’ve dealt with both of them. 

There’s a hole in their head - red spilling down their neck, still tacky to the touch. A clean, close shot. His finger sinks in the wound, the same size as your 10mm. 

"Good girl." The Ghoul murmurs. 

The slightest ease of the knot in his chest.

A crunch of glass beneath his feet, the glint of the sun catching the needle. Another shape he knows well - a syringe. Probably a tranquilizer.

Three meeting one, with three leaving. The dead weight of you weighing down their steps, the footprints pressing heavily into the earth.

Easy enough for him to follow, as he slings his gun free. 

Always said he did this shit for the love of the game.

But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.

Despite being back among faces you knew, fear had been your only companion since the meeting in the forest. 

Hazy memories flicker through your mind. Being dragged, snippets of light and the heat of a fire. The bright sear of dawn, and the dry embrace of the desert again. 

Waking to the feeling of your arms being wrenched above your head. Coming to, hissing and spitting. Nails catching the face of one of them - Baine, you think - his fist cracking down hard against your cheek in retaliation.

Leaving you dazed, as your wrists were caught again - bound in place. A cruel curl of a lip, as they examined you like a brahmin.

“You look like a Wastelander”. It’s spit out, a wet mark against the floor, “We’ll get you back where you belong soon enough.”

You’re not sure how much time has passed. A day, maybe. Hunger gnaws at you - only a small sliver of comfort in the dried meat and fruit tossed your way. 

Axton, the head of the Reclaimers - those who were tasked with bringing people back - had grown up with you. At one time, was perhaps even more than that. A distant relation of the current Overseers, his blood too thinned out to be of use - but even he won’t look you in the eye. 

You both know how this will go, when you get back home. 

Hope drains from you, with each hour. Eating away at the little flicker of hope in your chest, wrapped tightly around your heart. 

Maybe he’d show. 

But despair clouded your thoughts, soon after. 

“You get hurt doing some stupid shit, and I’m leavin’ you behind.”

“You're a goddamn fool if you think I hadn’t been planning on turnin' you in the first chance I get."

Maybe he’d been truthful all along, and you hadn’t listened. Read into all those small moments, weaving them together until they had made something tangible.

The looks, stolen breaths and almost-careful touches. All fleeting, but you had caught them. Holding them close to your heart. 

But life isn’t like the holotapes you grew up, back when everything felt safe.

There aren’t cowboys anymore. No heroes on horses - with their silver spurs and a shining, golden badge. 

No one was coming for you. 

The footprints die out, as the bleached trees grow thin. 

Tall grass to packed dirt, dried by the sun. Rolling hills and then mountains, scraping against the horizon. The dipping sun casts him in a red light that bleeds to black at his ankles, his shadow stretching back long and lean behind him.

But these roads aren't wholly unknown to him. 

Spent time blowing through Junktown and The Hub, a couple dozen miles away. The memory hazy, but there weren't too many places folk could stay, once the sun went down and everything wild and unruly came crawling out.

A feeling in his gut has him stopping two miles down the road. A half-dug quarry, long abandoned even before the world went to hell. Threadbare railings and platforms held together with spit and a prayer, framing the rusted building that cuts into the stone walls. 

The tip of his boot taps a loose rock, sending it off the edge. Head cocked as he thinks, until he hears the faintest clatter a hundred feet below. 

Two-hundred years ago, he had stood on a ledge much like this. Valley of the Gun. The final shootout had his guns lost in the dust. Fist-fighting with the leader of the gang, until they both near tumbled off the edge together.

Honorable, in the way he had caught the man's hand. Tried to haul him up, but had to let go when a knife was pulled - keeping him the hero. A satisfying death that wasn't his fault, a way to keep his conscience. 

All movie tricks. Angles and the implication of falling, as the camera focused on his face that swam with regret. 

Comin' after a girl then, too. 

Thinks that's why the old memory has loosened in his mind. 

Funny how things can change, but the bones remain. How he's still drawn back to life he's left far behind. Even if his conscience was buried, a long time ago. 

Some things linger. He could go down. Take one of those ladders, work his way through the tunnels that are sure to wind through the limestone, and up through the back. 

But he's never much liked being underground. 

Another second of considering, before he's heading for the front door.

He used to like a script, but that was back in the day when the worst thing that could happen was a box-office bomb, not the hell he's been dragged through. 

A half-cocked plan already forming. Twisting that connection between them, his own abandoned contract. Get him through the front door and to the man in charge at least, and that might be all he needs. Let years of instinct take over, after that. 

Had already gotten a good look at a couple of them, when he first picked up the bounty. It had made him curious - why there was so much fuss, over so small a thing. Easy caps, he decided, when he had gotten a look at you. 

Picking up that their brutality had been learned from sharpening their teeth against a silver spoon. Hardy - compared to some Wastelanders - with their filling meals and their pristine weapons. 

But they sure as hell don't have the same grit as one.

Not much of anything, really, when compared to him.

The door opens with the push of his shoulder. Hand beneath the swirl of his coat, finger already fixed on the trigger. Not far in until he’s running into one of them - another Vaultie.

The man startles, wide-eyed when he sees him. Green, in his shades of blue and yellow. 

“Here ‘bout a job.” The Ghoul keeps his voice light, in spite of everything.

Knows they’re keeping you alive for someone else, as much as that makes his jaw clench. No need to go rushing in just yet. 

A flicker of recognition, as the man frowns, “How’d you find us?”

His head tilts, that smooth drawl slipping in, “Wouldn’t be much of a Bounty Hunter if I couldn’t, now, would I?”

The Vault Dweller’s eyes are fixed on his face, that familiar look of fear and disgust - dipping down to the pocket of his nose, the curling smile of yellowed teeth. 

It’s strange how foreign it feels, after the hours spent with you looking at him so differently. 

Maybe he’d been a fool, after all. 

Maybe it’s more than your tight cunt that he wants to bury himself in, to claim. Something soft, bitten back behind his teeth. Something he doesn’t even know if he has a name for, anymore.

Something he didn’t know he needed , until he had chased both it and you away. 

“We’ve already got her.” The man manages, after thinking it over, “Don’t think we need your services anymore.”

There’s another flash of teeth at the confirmation. 

“Agreement was to find her. And who do you think rustled her up?” His brow lifts, “Would’ve been half-way to New Reno by now, if I hadn’t herded her your way.”

That sharp edge creeping in, “Think my time’s worth a little somethin ’. Don’t you?”

It’s easy for the guard to leave that decision to someone else. Standing aside, to let him pass.

“Thank you kindly.” The Ghoul tips his hat, a swirl of his coat as he passes. 

Taking just enough steps past them, waiting until the man’s back turns. Spinning on his heel, after. 

The knife glints between his fingers as he twirls it. A hand pressing over the Vault Dweller’s mouth, before the blade sinks into their neck. 

Muffling the dying gurgle. A grunt as the Ghoul yanks the blade free - leaving the body crumpled in the shadows, as he winds deeper.

One down. 

Hold on, he thinks.

I’m coming.  

His whistle echoes in the chamber. 

Half old-world - a long-forgotten leitmotif that fuses with new notes of his own. A part to play until he doesn't, letting the Ghoul guide him. 

Down the half-lit hallway, the lights flickering overhead from the ancient generator. Everything picked clean like he figured it would be - every last piece of scrap ferreted away, leaving only dusty crates behind.

Still playing the part, as the low murmur of voices grows louder. Ears pricking up, listening for hers. Picking out at least three or four others from the layered hum.

A sneer, at the number. He’s faced worse odds. It’s in his favor really - take out as many fuckers as he can. Send bits and pieces of them back.

His intentions masked, an old habit, by the time he enters the warehouse. A wide steel grate floor, opening up to a second level below, scattered with old machinery. 

There’s a table. Cards littering the top - a luxury brought from the Vault, as they bet using caps. Couple Vault Dwellers and that Wasteland son of a bitch from the town. Four total, one lounging on a sleeping pack as if it’s just another night, and they weren’t bringing you to your death. 

It rankles him, teeth set on edge. 

A scrape of chair legs on the floor, at the drawling condescension of his voice. 

“Ain’t y’all a little old for a sleepover?”

Hands rest on holsters, but they don’t draw. The Ghoul focuses on one - a face he recognizes, the one who had sought him out.

The man’s legs spread, as if he’s got something worthwhile between them. The leader of this whole operation. Axton , or some shit like that - it hadn’t been worth his time to remember. 

“Believe you fellas got somethin’ of mine.” The Ghoul drawls, “I’m here to collect.”

There’s a pause at that. 

One of them, a right-hand man by the look of their padded leather armor - not a scratch on it - scowls. A face that tells another story. Pink marks start at their cheek, jagged lines that end at a thick neck. 

His eyes narrow at that, lip curling. A flicker of unease in his belly - fingers clenching where they rest against his hips, close enough to draw.

“You’re too late for payment, ghoul. Heard you were dragging your feet.” His head tilts, towards the Wastelander who had gone still, “We went and got her ourselves.”

The Ghoul grins - a fierce thing, with a flash of teeth. A lilt, in his voice. 

“Now, what makes you think I’m here for caps?”

It gives them pause. His question - the prospect of a ghoul showing up, unannounced.

“What else you here for?” Another grunts - eyes already back on his cards, a comfort in their numbers. 

“Think you know.”

“The girl?” Atmos laughs, and the sound is cruel, “Heard she split from you. Caught her after.”

A tilt of his head towards the armored man and the Wastelander. Taunting then, “Must not be that good, if you let her slip away. What, she get tired of looking at your ugly mug?”

If they only knew the kind of things he’d done to you. What you had done to him, right back. 

The Ghoul is only half-paying attention. Sticks and stones, all their insults falling on deaf ears. Too busy with eyes that flick over the top floor. Then down to the ground below.

Something flipping inside his guts, when he sees it. Cast in shadow near the base of the stairs, but his eyesight is keener than it’s ever been. 

Arms bound, the knot looped around the hook of an overturned crane. A raw, split mark - swollen and bruised flesh - on the curve of a smooth cheek. Just above where your teeth cut into a piece of cloth, tied tightly around to gag you. 

A tilt of your head, and then your eyes are meeting his. Round and blank with fear. Widening, when you see him. 

His girl.

Muscles string tight, eyes narrowed as his teeth clench. You’d paid for what you did, and he’d be there to return the favor. 

His gaze snaps back, and focuses. Whatever plan he had been working up burns, turning to ash. 

“Always heard that beauty was in the eye of the beholder.” The Ghoul’s tone is conversational - although his blood boils, scalding hot, “But if you wanna see an ugly fucker , well… you best look right there.”

There’s a nod of his head, towards the man in charge. As if on cue, their heads twist to look - just as he draws, and then fires. 

The Vault Dweller’s head caves in. Gore splattering against the blue of his suit. Barely a breath before his finger is tugging again, a bullet going through the chest of a second. 

Always too goddamn slow.  

Hesitant to take a life, even with their bravado. 

Something that molted from his skin with the rest of him, over a century ago. He’s already reaching for the gun holstered at his shoulder before return shots are fired. 

He can feel the flicker of something miss him, before he’s charging. Ducking under the swing of a knife, the muzzle pressed against ribs.

A hoarse shout that is drawn out by the ringing blast. The knife caught and sent spinning into the back of the Wastelander, heading towards the door. 

Flinching, as something slams into his shoulder, just shy of his collarbone, and out the other side. The turn of a head - an eye fixed on the last man standing.

Padded armor won’t do much to stop him. 

“That your handiwork?” The Ghoul growls, as his head tips towards you.

The man's finger twitches but he’s faster - a shot going into the meat of their thigh. Downing them as they scream, as the Ghoul saunters over to tug the hilt from where he’s buried it in the Wastlander’s back. 

It glints a gleaming red in the light, as he adjusts his grip. Eyeing the scripted tattoos that cross over the man’s knuckles - as they grip at their thigh, near-tenderized from the blast. 

Ones that had struck you. Could send them back, spelling out something obscene. A rough laugh at the thought. 

He’s got someone waiting for him. But, he knows from experience…

That this won’t take too long. 

In the hours since you parted, it’s only now that you can breathe.

For a long moment, you hadn’t dared believe. Eyes drawn to the noise above - the loud pitch of voices. 

One of them - rough and low - draws your attention. Everything dark from your angle, an ache as you had tried to see.

Knowing that shadow. The brim of his hat. 

The burn of his eyes, when they fixed on you. You could feel the fury in them, even from here. A muted sound of desperation from behind your gag, as you watched. 

The Ghoul shoots first - the second his eyes pull away, and it’s all over in a matter of moments. 

Your eyes closing at the sound of gunfire, of screaming - until it finally cuts short. Leaving the warehouse eerily silent, except for the clicking of spurs against metal. 

He crouches in front of you, now - and you can’t help the whine. So much trapped behind the thick binding of cloth. All you could do is tug at your bound wrists - neck craning as you tried to watch from below.

A force of nature. Bared teeth a quick draw. Again you’re forced to admit to yourself how lucky you were to still be standing, after your first meeting. 

He had blown through them like it was nothing. 

“Hold on a minute, honey.” That low tone is familiar, calming you as his fingers hook around the cloth. Leaving a smear of red against your jaw as he tugs the gag free - shucking his gloves after.

“Are you hurt?” It comes out ragged. Tongue heavy in your mouth, throat dry. Eyes scanning the dark leather of his coat - all that red , smeared across it, “Thought you got hit.”

He barks out a laugh, your chin trapped between thumb and forefinger, “That’s what you’re worried about?”

Something dark swirling across his features, as he tilts your head towards the light. His thumb pressing at the edge of your bruise, denting skin.

“They got you good, didn’t they?” He murmurs, and you smile through a wince, at the dull ache of pain.

“You got them.”

“Sure did,” It’s distracted, as he cuts at the binds, next. The rope fraying and then splitting, an ache in your shoulders when your arms finally lower. 

“Fuckin’ amateurs.” He mutters again, watching as you wince at the rubbed-raw skin at your wrists. The corners of his lips tipped down, lost in thought.

“Thought you would’ve liked seeing me all tied up.” It’s a weak thing. An attempt at humor, the ache in your heart at seeing him cut by the acidity of your last meeting.

He blinks. Comes back to himself, a hoarse hum of amusement. 

“Only when I’m doing it, sweetheart.” The Ghoul’s eyes meet yours then, a hint of a smirk with the tilt of his head. 

“Can think of a much better way of gagging you, too.”

There’s almost a softness to his tone. Just barely there, tinting the rough edges. Something like hope flutters - delicate, behind your ribs. 

“You… you came, for me.” You need the clarification. To hear him say it. That this isn’t some ruse, a way to take you directly to the source, “You’re not-”

There’s a sigh, as he fixes you with a long look. His head tipping towards the platform above, a lazy flick of his finger towards an arm that dangles from the ledge.

“Well that there man’s the one I got your contract from,” The Ghoul drawls, “Said I was to return what belonged to somebody else.”

Those eyes fixing on you again, “Seein’ as you’re not , and seein’ as that man is now indisposed…”

His words trail off - and you can’t help the small smile, as he finishes.

“I’m thinkin we’re square.”

The look you give him is soft. Admiring. You don’t know how he tracked you down, but he did. 

“You saved me.” It’s hushed, and at your tone his eyes pull from you. 

Fixing somewhere low, off to the side, as he crouches. Uncomfortable with the way you look at him. How you see him. Not used to it, not after so many years. 

You’re not able to resist. 

Muscles stringing stiff when you lean forward. Lips pressed against the leather of his cheek, fingers ghosting against his jaw. 

A huff then, teeth biting into his tongue with the shake of a head. His eyes dark, as you pull back, hovering. 

“Darlin’ if you’re going to be stealin’ a kiss, you best be doin’ it properly.” The Ghoul rasps, eyes flicking down to your mouth.

His head tips towards yours, but it’s your that meets his first. A little sound in your throat as your lips slot against his. Warm and insistent as his knees drop to press into the cement floor.

Tugging at you, as your fingers grasp at his collar. A hungry lick of his tongue against the seam of your lips as you whine, crushing your chest to his.

His fingers at your neck, your jaw. Angling your head, a rough groan as you part for him. Turning ravenous - wandering hands as your tongue slips against his. Panting breaths and a grinding of hips when he yanks you closer. 

“How many were there?” He hums, as you try to sneak a ragged breath.

The curve of a smile when you try to ignore him, a click of his tongue.

“I dunno,” Your mind is too foggy. Too focused on the hands that trace against your waist, “Four? No… maybe five?”

“You don’t seem too sure, sweetheart.” He does smile then, at the little mark between your eyebrows. Untangling himself - a hand reaching down to adjust himself, as he stands. 

“As much as I’d like to take you right here,” He husks, eyes dragging over you, “The last thing I need is a bullet in the ass.”

A tilt of his head, towards the open floor.

“Come on, cowpoke. Let’s do a sweep.”

the last (final, for real this time) part will be up in just a little bit! 💖 thank you so much for reading - this series has become so much to me, and every ask or comment or tag or reblog has absolutely meant the world 💕

[wonryllis]

Give your moots tropes they suit!

、ㅤ🎬 ⋆ ࣪ 午 MOOTS AS TROPES ᵎᵎ

so i already did this with a few of my mutuals HERE, and hence i'll only do those who i haven't done and those who i have talked to at least a couple of times. ( MUTUALS )

@jaylaxies co workers to lovers au like a chem prof and eng prof having beef that the entire college knows of and suddenly they start seeing each other differently and and appreciating their differences (like their personality and style of teaching and the way they think etc yk) students are flabbergasted when they announce their relationship AFTER being accidentally discovered by someone lol.

@alvojake college au with a project partners to friends to lovers trope where they both think the other is boring but quickly are proven wrong when enjoy the time together more than expected and then going on 'hangouts' after the project is over, just the two of them and then denying feelings for the longest time sigh.

@sserasin crushing on crush's crush and then getting successful trope if that's a thing. like going to a hangout with a bunch of friends at an amusement park or something very active and coming across her crush's crush and totally getting why and then finding it hard not to fall but at the end of the day her crush is changed and now it's like a competition.

@pockettwinzz legit like legit stalker x celeb, i married my anti fan au but reverse like i married my die hard fan? hazel being famous for supporting the celeb but like not in a creepy way and loving them while heartedly and then suddenly something happens and the celeb has to work with hazel's company for something and the celeb requests to be assisted by hazel for everything and that's how the story starts!!

@hooniehon classic airport crush turned fling you never seen again but boom you find them in your vacay hotel and they work as the bartender there. claire going to some exotic place, alone, for a work trip(surprisingly) returning to the hotel early evening after a meeting and then going out to the bar near the pool and finding that same airport crush bartending and then they talk the entire night and—

@pprodsuga idk if this because of the jay lawyer au but .. lawyer x lawyer and add a whole lot of comedy because they're kinda frenemies, basically eawyw choi suyeon and kwon minwoo ahhh!!! rivalry as coworkers and denying feelings because no way you like that person and then getting drunk and confessing josie pie is so suyeon and minwoo coded it's insane!

@koishua i did this for you on my previous account but this now my perspective has changed.. ahem ahem so found family in a romantic love setting au like just finding your person, your home and everything you have ever wanted to have to feel alive in your lover. fluffy little moments that means so much and evoke a range of emotions vie never expected.

@eeunoia popular girl with her nerd bestfriend turned fake date turned real lover trope. psyche tried of all the fans hovering around her and asking to go out with her, begs the bestfriend to fake date her for a few months, pda in the corridors and the cafeteria and uni festival and just everywhere anyone is that they don't even realize when it's not longer an act anymore.

@leaderwon classic classmates to lovers trope, but like new classmates yk. staring at each other on the very first day and being like oh they're good-looking! and taking more notice of each other as the days pass by and they talk between classes and sit together during lunch but it's slow burn and then high school comes to an end and they part ways but hit it off after a reunion years later.

@tyunni ta x student trope (they're same age!!) can totally see may being a worldclass genius, top of her class, loved by profs and then in comes the love interest who's just changed classes and can't for the love of god get a single thing inside their head. so every tuesday and thursday may gives lessons and they slowly fall in love..

@jjunae childhood best friend but then turned enemies and then fling .. things happen and like no matter how hard they try something just keeps coming in the way and like by the time they are together they're too old kinda the 'love rosie' movie.

@lheebra a coming of age au with a summer fling somewhere in europe, a 'float' movie au like dani taking a break from lawschool and going on a month long trip to somewhere small and cozy and then falling for this cute guy in the town who shows her around and everything.

@fakeuwus kinda like an "if i stay" au. period. nic getting into an accident and falling into coma where her soul is having an out of body experience and everyone around just wants her to stay but she does not feel like it until, that person that makes her see things differently that makes her want to live and that makes her want to try. crying.

@lilyuwon chaebol heir with the hardworking intern at their family's company. i can also imagine yev as the hardworking intern always scolding the heir about not trying anything because everything will eventually be given to them. and also yev being a bratty nepo baby heir who annoys the hell out of the intern because she's bored.

@sainns college au but sports rivals. captain of two different teams and always bickering about and everything. always fighting in the corridors about who's the better one and throwing glares before getting on their bus for the tournament but texting each other encouraging messages the night before the match and even going to support secretly.

@stwrjvke this is everything, maid of honor x best man trope. you can't tell me it's not ash like them both preparing for the wedding while bickering their asses off and then on the wedding day they bawl their eyes out watching their friends get married and then after the marriage is over part ways albeit with feelings grown and then meet years later somewhere and hit it off.

@intromortal new clumsy secretary with a supernatural being boss? like nia getting a job at a fashion editorial or something and the boss turns out to be a vampire or like a demon or incubus or something and nia accidentally finds it out and now she can't be allowed to quit because she knows and that secret brings them closer and closer ..

@glitterjay omg omg listen basketball captain x cheerleader au. absolutely can see sea being that pretty cheerleader that rolls her eyes at the captain and that's what makes her so attractive and worth chasing. and they have this thing of fooling around the lockers and the bleachers before and after match but the commitment.. ?

@kareyuns this is absolutely not because you live i hawaii .. actually it is so like love triangle between tour guide and her friend and the tourist. mimi taking up a summer job as a tour guide and being assigned to a backpacker who randomly chose the place and showing them around and her friend getting jealous by the amount of time she spends away because that's basically dates. and then the backpacker decides to stay longer and the rivalry for mimi omg.

@theyluvvaubery idk why but like a royal au, but set in modern day with her being the next in line to the throne and the love interest being someone of a lower rank and they struggle to be together. sneaking around at first and then being separated and then eloping away.

[catboydogma]

where the stray things go

codywan week 2024 sol master list (solsterlist)

codywan week 2024 day 4 prompts, sol edition: video game au, "subtle" witty banter during the war

notes: this is maybe the most niche au ive ever written. fellas, the bar was on the floor and i have laid down on top of it. welcome to sol's codywan overwatch au. if you haven't played overwatch or don't know the lore, don't worry! most overwatch players don't know the lore either :) this can stand alone, mostly. huge thank-you to @calamity-aims for being my sounding board and giving me so much inspiration by being in the batshit au corner with me. title from white roses by glass animals

wc: 2,346

cross-posted to ao3

All this could have been avoided if Cody had been allowed to pick the infil site. Their landing had been rough but serviceable—the pilot, who only answered to “Kit,” had been grinning and cracking jokes to ease up nerves even as he evaded turret fire and nearly strafed them into the ocean. They’d gotten into the control center all the same, even if Kit had to stay behind with the JEDI heavy to repair the shielding system.

“Commander, these numbers are all wrong,” Crys hissed. “I can take out the security feeds, but this base is way farther along than we thought it was. I mean, we were expecting the turrets and a couple OR14 tanks on top of the usual. But this is—”

Cody exchanged looks with their “combat medic.” In the SEP, that really meant “this medic will make sure you don’t die, and he’s going to do that by killing the other guy first.” Kix had the steadiest hands of any soldier Cody had worked with, whether they were on the scalpel or a biotic rifle. The other medic was another JEDI loan, a woman who wore a combination of robes and light body armor.

“We’re running out of time,” Cody finally said. “We won’t get another chance to destabilize the Donghae Omnium. This mission is critical to the war effort.” They wouldn’t have sent Cody otherwise—though Cody had his suspicions about that. The higher-ups were fond of sending SEP soldiers into situations with unwinnable odds. Their own homegrown, red-eyed time bombs.  

Gregor, another SEP soldier like Cody, laughed and thumped the front of his power armor. “De oppresso liber, Commander. Overwhelming odds is the name of the game. Hey, you think I could beat 17’s KIR on this one?”

“If you think you can take out more omnics than times you get incapacitated, feel free,” Kix said, dry as anything. “Much less top the Strike Commander.”

“Feedback loop established,” Crys murmured, catching Cody’s eye. He’d gone through SEP like Cody and Gregor, but every soldier took to it a little differently. Cody had gotten an even spread of improved reflexes, metabolism, strength, and speed. Gregor’s enhancements had maxed out his strength and metabolism, letting him shake off hits that would kill or cripple an unenhanced human. Crys’ were subtler; he was even faster than Cody, if not as strong, and the chems had somehow boosted his cognitive performance. They’d made it possible for him to undergo cybernetic procedures that would have been deemed much too risky for any unenhanced human.

“We’re in?” Cody checked the safety on his pulse rifle.

“Affirmative. We’ll be going in hot. Patrol patterns will only get tighter as we near the control room. And—” Crys grimaced, electric blue eyes flashing with computerized input. “—if we can’t find an exit fast after we secure the central control hub…”

Cody nodded. “Kit and Sgt. Drallig will secure our exfil.”

“I’m tapped into the alarm system, but there’s a chance for it to be tripped manually,” Crys warned.

“Then we’ll take out any omnics we come across before they can get to it.” Cody gestured for his squad to move out.

Their movement further into the base was easy. Too easy. Every one of them was on high alert yet they still didn’t see the ambush until they tripped it—a full squadron of OR14s blockading the corridor with not one or two but three fucking Bastion turrets and a shielding unit for the whole goddamned party. Fun for all ages.

Then the second wave of war machines flooded into the corridor behind them in a pincer attack that would have made 17 cry big ugly tears of joy, and the mission was officially FUBAR.

Cody was about to start making his peace with the world at large when the razor-sharp head of an arrow sprouted from the chassis of the OR14 tank bearing down on him. He stared, mouth dry and tasting of char and blood. Sizzling blue light arced along its shaft and the OR14 buckled as its electrical systems shorted out.

“I’m hit!” Crys shouted over comms. Gregor was holding their backline and going toe to toe with another pair of OR14 tanks for his efforts. But this wasn’t a sustainable position. And even with SEP enhancements, they couldn’t hold forever.

“I’ve got you.” Kix swore viciously over comms as he ducked behind cover, half-dragging Crys behind him.

They hadn’t even gotten to the control room yet. Much less secured it. Whoever had given Overwatch HQ the stats on this base, they’d been lying out of their ass. Cody resolved to get back to Geneva just to wring necks over it. Let alone—

“You should not have let your guard down,” an imperious voice said. A tall man hauled Cody up like he weighed as much as a kitten. His face was half covered by an armored cowl but dark eyes and heavy eyebrows were furrowed in a scowl at him. Innocuous against his Japanese-style body armor and shoulder quiver of high-tech arrows, a head of auburn-bleached hair gleamed in the harsh LEDs of the control base.

Cody’s pulse rifle got slapped back into his hands and it felt like his brain got rebooted at the same moment. “Who the hell are you?”

“The man that is about to save your life,” the archer replied. “You have the technology to disable the control room once you breach it then, yes?”

“This is a classified—”

“Good.” The archer nodded. He had the gall to wink at Cody over the cowl. “You don’t have to spill all of your secrets yet, Commander. I like my allies a little more… long-lasting.”

Bloody hell. Cody grinned despite himself and wiped the blood off his brow from where a stray shard of shrapnel had almost taken his eye out. “Talk after. Take out the control room now.”

“That kind of forthrightness is what I like to see in a man,” the archer purred as he nocked an arrow and drew his bow. The weight on that thing had to be over forty, forty-one kilos, but the man did it easy as breathing.

Another fighter—especially one as good as this archer—made all the difference. He took down an OR14 from around a corner without breaking a sweat. Half his shots connected in ways that seemed to bend the laws of physics—scatter arrows, rebounds, trick shots from across the entire fucking corridor, all while the man flipped and twisted through the air like an Olympic acrobat.

Crys was able to break open the central hub after a round of healing nanite injections from Kix. Gregor held the doors as their point of defense while Crys uploaded a series of viruses that would cripple the omnium’s comms network and foul their navigations systems, rendering them ducks in a barrel when the local MEKA forces swept in to wipe the rest of the base out.

All this while the archer trashed different parts of the server room alongside Cody, wrecking hardware and banks of data drives. He took an inordinate amount of glee from swinging his bow into monitors and kicking through holographic projectors.

“I’ll clear you a path out,” the archer said when he was done.

“How do I know you’re gonna make it out after me?” Cody asked and checked the charge left on his magazine. They could make it out. This was far from the desperate last stand Cody had thought they’d be making. All thanks to—

The archer hesitated, gloved hands flexing on the grip of his bow. “Is this you asking for my number, Commander? I’m not usually so easy as all that.”

“I can’t buy you drinks if I don’t even know your name or how to contact you,” Cody replied. He stepped closer even as every instinct he had screamed at him to step away, that this man was—somehow—more dangerous than any omnic or tank. “And I’m not the kind of man to leave a dept unfulfilled.”

“No debt,” the archer murmured, dark eyes studying Cody’s face intently. He reached out to brush the tips of his gloved fingers across Cody’s brow, where the shrapnel had torn his face open. It was already clotted and healing, the too-hot feel of inflammation telling Cody that his body was working overtime to seal the wound. “You should get this looked at. Unless you want a dashing scar as a keepsake of our time together. But you don’t seem to be a sentimental man, Commander.”

“I might surprise you.” Cody caught the archer’s wrist, studying him in turn. His roots were showing under the bleach job. They were as ink black as his eyebrows. Thin crow’s feet lined his dark and narrow eyes, expressive for all that the cowl hid his mouth and nose. He hadn’t noticed the curved sword strapped to his back until now. On first guess, it might have been a katana—but Cody didn’t know enough about swords to identify it at a glance. Strangely archaic weapons for such a skilled fighter. It only made Cody hungrier—for more time, more intel, a greedy wish to see his face uncovered.

“Ben,” the archer finally said. “I don’t doubt that, Commander. I… travel often. But you’ve made a convincing argument for those drinks.” He plucked a thin, metallic token out of some hidden pocket and tucked it into a pouch on Cody’s tac belt with nimble fingers. The feel of Ben’s hand on his belt had a thrill of—something running through him.

“That’s Drallig on the line,” Crys said into comms, voice oddly strangled. “Exfil secured.”

“Move out,” Cody barked. He took a hasty step back from Ben, who only smiled—if the wrinkling by his eyes meant anything. “You have an exit?”

“Commander,” Ben purred, nocking another one of his strange and sparking arrows, “let’s just say… my backdoor is very well secured.”

Kix let out a strangled noise. He had one of Crys’ arms over his shoulders, the slicer looking like he’d lost a little too much blood as they’d lingered in the control room.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Lt.,” Cody barked as he passed Gregor. “We have an exit to make.”

“Sir yes sir.” Gregor saluted him with one of his hulking rotary cannons and the comm line exploded into laughter.

Back at base, Cody suffered 17’s scrutiny while his face was sutured back together in a medic’s tender loving care. He had healed too fast, sealing in the shrapnel. The wound needed to be sliced back open, cleaned, and then stitched together again.

“Yeah, that’s gonna scar,” 17 said with a vicious laugh.

Pot. Kettle.

“You recognize this?” Cody flipped 17 the token “Ben” had left him with.

17 caught it out of the air and turned it over in one big hand. His face was unreadable—but maybe that was all the scarring. He’d no doubt already read Cody’s brief. “I knew you’d left something out. You’re a shit liar, kid.”

“That’s a yes.” If 17 knew who Ben was… and Ben had known Cody by name—not unusual in and of itself. Cody was a high-ranking soldier in a global peacekeeping force fighting against the worldwide invasion of the omnics. The Omnic Crisis was wreaking havoc on a scale never before seen but it was also engendering collaboration on an unprecedented level. MEKA, SEP, JEDI, Overwatch, the Crusaders, Volskaya… the best way to unite humankind was to give them a common enemy.

“Yeah. See this?” 17 held up the token so the light glinted off the strange symbol in the corner. It almost looked like a pair of dragons twined together—in an embrace or locked in battle, Cody couldn’t tell. “That’s old blood Yakuza. The Shimada clan. Word was that they all died out after the eldest son went batshit and murdered half the family. Bye-bye, little brother. Bye-bye, gramps. Man was set to succeed the throne of one of the most powerful crime families in East Asia. Instead he wiped them out in a matter of weeks and disappeared off the map.”

“How do you know…?”

17 tapped the token and slid it across the flimsy bedside table to rest by the head of Cody’s medical cot. “The twin dragons are a symbol of power and blood ties. Only the ruling heads of the family got ‘em as their insignia. Out of every high-ranking asshole in the Shimada Clan, only one survived the bloodbath. Take a guess, kid.”

Cody swallowed. The level of skill, the cutting-edge gear, the sharpness in Ben’s eyes… it made too much sense for him to reject it out of hand.

“Shimada the elder is bad fucking news,” 17 said flatly. “Any man that can betray his family like that—crime bosses or not—is a big fat warning sign. You hear me, Cody?”

Yes. Warning sign. Bad news. Danger. Absolutely. Cody saluted 17 and fought down his wince when the movement pulled at his stitches and bruises.

“Bloody hell,” 17 muttered, throwing his hands up in disgust. “Why do I even bother. You know what, kid, if you want to chase after rumors and ghosts, that’s your call. It’s not like I’ve got sixteen years of wisdom on you or anything.”

“Fifteen and a half,” Cody said and bared his teeth up at 17. Never let it be said that he wouldn’t hold his oldest brother to a certain standard of integrity and truthfulness.

“Fucking brat,” 17 muttered. But he scrubbed his knuckles over Cody’s curls in a way that meant affection for him and gave him a sharp nod. That was as good as a big shiny medal and a commendation, coming from 17.

After 17 left the room with the medic, Cody pulled the token over to him and gingerly laid back among his stiff medbay-issue pillows. The center of the metal token was smooth and slightly worn down. His own thumb fit perfectly into the imprint and the metal warmed to his touch.