#fuck chem trails

[s0urce--flow]

🗻💫Orbital Spins into the Sky💫🗻

[deepest-chambers-of-the-heart]

it's always crazy that my first thought about the end of the world or escaping or having to flee is: god i hope i die

does that make me a coward? i don't see myself living through fleeing if an earthquake collapses our house or something just please end it

being told everything is weird and unprecedented and that they're preparing for something just please i don't want to live through another global catastrophic event just let me die man

with my health problems already it's a struggle enough to get up and live i can't imagine bejng in a real crisis if my body is already taking this as a sign im going tk die

do i like how reactive i feel when ppl talk about the possible catastrophe of earthquakes or eclipses or preparing for some unknown something to happen? no. i don't like the fear and the immediate "i need to kill myself or ill suffer unknown tragedies" maybe ive read too much apocalypse fiction where the world ends and factions split and people run rampid

because i know im not built to survive it. im not and i cant. i don't want to live in fear again by the powers over me I don't want to be subject to cruelty and horror

[rafecameroninterlude]

can i request a [🍪] chocolate chip cookie, for “bed chem” by sabrina carpenter

₊˚⊹ᰔ 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦

pairing: soft!dom!rafe x kook!sweetheart!reader

summary: ❝how you talk so sweet when you’re doing bad things. that’s bed chem.❞ — rafe loves coming home to his girl.

warnings: sooo much dirty talk, lots of praise, grinding (?), unprotected sex, brief mention of reader having a size kink, multiple orgasms, love biting, yk rafe has to talk you through it ;)

word count: 1.0k

a/n: me realizing this is the first explicit piece i write with rafe and kook!sweetheart!reader :0 feel free to participate in this little poll if you want to!

“fuck, just look at you..” rafe had you laid out on your bed, his lips whispering sweet nothings against your skin. “so fucking beautiful, ‘always ready for me to take you when i get home.” he ran his large hands up your bare thighs, his cock stirring in his briefs. you took your bottom lip between your teeth, his rough palms a stark contrast to your soft flesh. “this is all i think about when we’re apart.” you gasped when he spread your legs open, his eyes darkening at the sight of your glossy folds. “you’re already wet just thinking about it, huh?” you nodded, meeting his lust filled gaze.

“you’re so passive with me, baby, i love that. ‘love when i walk in here and you give me those ‘fuck me’ eyes.” he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your jaw as his hand trailed down to where you needed him most. you couldn’t help the moan slipping past your lips when the pads of his fingers found your needy clit, all of his attention zeroing in on the way you melted into his touch. “coming home to you like this.. fuck this is all i’ll ever need.” you swore you could cum from his words alone. cupping his face, you pulled him down to meet your lips. like always, he tasted like a little bit of liquor with a hint of mint.

“please, rafe..” you weren’t exactly sure what you were begging for, but since rafe always called the shots, you let him decide where this was going to go. you watched as he took himself out of his boxers, a shaky breath emitting from your mouth. you could never get used to the mere sight of him, the size difference of you two making butterflies erupt in your tummy every single time. rafe laid down, pulling you on top of him as his cock sprang up against his stomach. “grind on me, pretty girl, you know how i like it.” his hands rested in the curves of your hips as you dragged your soaked cunt up and down the underside of his length.

rafe groaned, his head falling back against your pillows as your sensitive bundle of nerves glided on top of his cock with ease. “shit,” he said through gritted teeth, “you’re doing so good for me, doll face.” you whimpered, feeling empty while fighting the urge to sink onto him. “wanna feel you inside me, ray..” your nails dug into the skin of his toned chest, your boyfriend’s mouth falling open in a silent moan. “not yet, baby, let’s go slow, ‘promise i’ll be fucking you into oblivion very soon.” your cheeks heated, muttering a pathetic ‘okay..’ before continuing your ministrations.

rafe was in absolute awe watching the way you moved on top of him, those little sounds falling from your swollen lips as you panted and whined from not being filled up. you jolted with every swipe of your clit against the head of his cock. rafe knew how sensitive you were, how it never took much to have you making a mess on him in no time. that fact turned him on more than anything else he could think of. adjusting the grip he had on your hips, you let out a yelp when he started dragging you up and down his cock himself. “i want that pussy greedy and sucking me in when i flip you over.”

you shuddered, feeling the familiar heat start to boil until rafe brought it to the surface. rafe thought you looked the prettiest when you were cumming, your expression ingrained in his brain forever. “oh, my g- fuck, rafe!” he knew it was good when you cursed out loud, your body trembling and shaking as your high washed over you. rafe pulled you into his chest, peppering your face with kisses until you were nothing but jelly in his arms. without giving you any time to recover, rafe pushed your face into the pillows, snaking an arm underneath your waist before thrusting into you without warning.

thankfully your scream was muffled, your fingers digging into the sheets for dear life. rafe’s skin was flushed to your own, the weight of him on your back making you mewl. “so fucking tight, holy shit.” he kissed the spot behind your ear, his arms enveloping yours. you intertwined your fingers with his as he thrusted into you, stretching you so deliciously. you moaned, the feeling of his cock kissing your cervix made you clench around him. arching into his thrusts, he rested his head in the curve of your neck. “you’re so fucking perfect, ‘taking it so good.” rafe bit your earlobe, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

you nearly lost it when he angled his hips, the thick head of his cock hitting the spot inside of you that made you see stars. “oh!” you gasped, your face contorting into one of pleasure. “i know baby, fuckin’ hell, i know.” he shuddered, feeling the start of his peak forming in his stomach. “gonna fill you up, ‘make you take every last drop..” he pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades before sitting up on his knees. adjusting your position so your ass was in the air, you lost all ability to form a single thought when he took your hands behind your back and plowed into you until you were crying out, begging for him to never stop.

when the band snapped, and rafe fell over the edge, he cursed against your skin, holding you still as your own orgasm hit you at the same time. he painted your walls with his cum, his hands never leaving yours. you loved squeezing around him, taking him for everything he had while his breath fanned against your skin. he stayed nestled inside you for a few minutes before pulling out with a hiss. you laid limp, your boyfriend pulling you close as he stroked the side of your face. wiping the stray tears from your cheeks, rafe admired your post-sex afterglow. “what are you thinking about?” he hummed, snapping you out of your daze.

“how you talk so sweet when you’re doing bad things.”

[plutoswritingplanet]

Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader) pt. 2

a/n: this one's a bit shorter, next one will have smut, i am so fcking sleepy writing this i'll have to check tomorrow it this isn't a hallucination

Warnings: Horny Violence, Blood and Guts, Suggestive Themes, we're on a steady route to pound town

Summary: Cooper catches his prize, but an uninvited guest puts a strain on an already rocky relationship. Cross-Posted on AO3

PT. 1

You must be a Vault Dweller. Truly. There is no other way to explain the utter lack of self-preservation skills.

Cooper finds you almost immediately after the sun sets. He can see the flickering light of your small bonfire through the trees, and languidly, he stalks forwards, opting to stay in the shadows to observe you a moment longer. 

You're sitting on the ground, back leaning against a destroyed carcass of a plane. Hair pushed out of your face, Cooper can see the flames illuminating your focused expression with warm light. Once again, he's struck by this seemingly regal air around you. Like you've been raised in a castle, far from this fucked up place, that is now his home. A princess, stuck in harsh reality. Eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip tucked hard between your teeth, you seem to be pondering over something.

With quick motions, you take your messenger bag, opening it and dumping its contents onto the ground in front of you. It's somewhat hard to see, but the sound of small glass bottles knocking into each other is telling enough. 

Taking stock of your inventory, you begin to tuck everything back into the bag. Chems upon chems, RadAway, RadX, quite the little drug library, and Cooper's eyes immediately lock onto his most sought after, amber liquid. Why would a Smoothie like you need any of that stuff is beyond him. He hasn't seen any Ghouls in the small town you hail from. 

Perks of the job, he thinks to himself, as you stack away at least five vials.

At the last bottle, you hesitate, bringing it up towards the light, and looking at it with a worried expression. The liquid swirls inside, and Cooper watches from the shadows, as you press the cold glass against your forehead in a motion eerily reminding him of a prayer. Your shoulders shudder, and Cooper's mangled ears strain, as he sees your mouth move.

- Let me be brave - you whisper to the vial, like some ancient spell, and something new tightens in his chest, something he immediately brushes away.

Then, he sees you lift a very familiar piece of equipment, putting it on your wrist, and begin to tweak something in the controls. A Pip-Boy. Old and battered, but apparently still working. All his confusing feelings are wiped clean in an instant. Now, he's truly intrigued. The clasps seem slightly too big for your hand, and the device slides the length of your arm, as you move. 

You sigh, heavily, then press something, and the Geiger meter clicks to life, picking up on stray radiation. Cooper feels his muscles tense, knowing all too well, why the device has activated so rapidly. As a Ghoul, he leaves a trail of radiation, that follows him wherever he goes. He wasn't particularly aware, that a Pip-Boy could pick up on it, but he wasn't surprised either.

 The sound makes you freeze in your spot. Slowly, you scan the area, your hand extended towards the darkening outline of the surrounding trees. As your hand passes by the place Cooper has chosen as his hiding spot, the meter grows louder. 

Jumping to your feet, you raise the blasted thing in front of you, your other hand tugging at the waistband of your skirt, freeing your trusted kitchen knife. As if to double-check, you put your hand somewhere to the back, listening to the quiet cracking noise. 

You can't fully confirm your suspicions on time, as Cooper springs to action. 

A thick line of rope falls over your shoulders, and before you have the chance to react, the loop around you tightens. Your entire body is tugged with surprising force in the direction of the treeline. Loosing your footing, you collapse onto the damp forest floor, chin scraping in the process. The yelp of shock tearing out of your throat, rings through the surrounding area, before you literally, eat dirt. The force of the impact wrenches the knife from your hand, as it bends at an uncomfortable angle. The weapon lands somewhere in the grass, the blade reflecting the flames.

Wiggling like a worm, trying to free yourself from the bounds, you notice a pair of well-worn shoes entering your vision. They cross the remaining distance, stopping just short of your head. Knees crack as your attacker squats down, before taking your hair into a hard grip and lifting your head from the dirt. 

Your face twists in pain, neck craning uncomfortably, and with an overwhelming feeling of finality, your eyes land onto the face of a ghoul. The Ghoul. He turns his head slightly to the side with the meanes of grins, before letting go of your hair, your head falling back into the dirt. 

- Oh, motherfucker - you groan, pulling your legs up, and attempting to get up.

- Stay down - the Ghoul's voice is rough and biting, and sudden pressure on your back pins you to the ground. - Do you know how fuckin' stupid it is, to light a fire in the wilderness? Any unsightly character could pick you off in seconds. 

Spitting out stray clumps of earth and grass from your mouth, you scoff at his scolding tone.

- Thankfully, there are no unsightly characters here, huh? 

- Oh, I wouldn't say that, sweetheart. - the bounty hunter tugs the toe of his shoe under your side, and kicks up, turning your body.

You roll onto your back, throwing a nasty look at the Ghoul, as he secures the loop of his lasso. His eyes reflect the light in the most haunting of ways, and you squirm under his gaze, which drags itself across your body, stopping briefly at the tips of your breasts, peaking from under your shirt. Swallowing thickly, your muscles relax, in hopes of loosening the rope. It barely gives, but your limbs recover some wiggle room. 

Cooper blinks, his head jerking to the side, and only as he brings his hand up, do you register the gun in his hand. Making sure you can see it, he turns towards your messenger bag, grabbing it from the ground where you left it. 

He sits down, somewhere outside your field of vision, and you risk pulling yourself up into a sitting position. He doesn't seem to mind it now, too busy with rummaging through your belongings. Finally, he pulls out a vial of amber liquid, watching it swirl in the flickering light of the bonfire. 

- Now - Cooper starts, as he grabs the inhaler from his pocket, inserting the vial into it - Why would a backwoods healer have something like this on 'er?

Rolling your shoulders ever so slightly, the rope slides further down your arms, and you regard the Ghoul with a venomous rendition of a "are you fucking dumb?" look. Which he doesn't appreciate. His hands tremble, as he closes his mouth over the inhaler, taking a long hit, draining the entire vial. You try very hard, not to notice the low moan flowing out of him, as the drug enters his system. Or the way his eyes flutter blissfully for just a second. 

- You never know, who might be needing help... - you mutter, wincing at the biting pain in your limbs.

- Well ain't that considerate of you - he coughs into his gloved hand, before sighing deeply, his head reclining back against the plane's exterior, his eyes closed.

From where you're sitting, he looks weirdly handsome. Rugged and very much Ghoul-like, but handsome nonetheless. The skin of his neck is pulled taunt, and in the flickering light of a dying bonfire, you can see a myriad of scars, littering any surface of his skin that's visible. Still, there were other matters at hand, that needed your attention, and you try to shift in your seat as quietly as possible, slowly but surely sliding the rope down your body. 

- Next time you try to run away, I'll shoot you - your efforts are stilled by his warning tone, and by the way he waves his gun at you, you know he'll make good on this promise.

- Thought you needed me in good condition.

To that, he finally throws you a look from under his cowboy hat. 

- Good... - he confirms, his other hand slowly shortening the length of the rope connecting the both of you - Ain't the same as mint. 

The loop suddenly digs further into your flesh, and you grunt at the uncomfortable feeling of the rough rope scratching at your exposed upper arms. 

Unfortunately, he's right. During your time as the local healer, you've done many questionable things to ensure the well-being of the town. One of those things, was dealing with organ harvesters. You've only bought a limb or a finger, every once in a while, as if that was some consolation for your darkened soul. Those moments quickly taught you, that something being good was most certainly not the same as ideal. Or mint, as your captor has supplied. 

- You a Vault-Dweller? - the Ghoul finally asks, breaking the small spell of silence between you.

The question doesn't surprise you, and you lift the Pip-Boy as far up, as the lasso allows you. Which isn't a lot. 

- Nah - the flames dance on your suddenly melancholic expression, and Cooper drinks it all up, curiosity spiking with each new information - My mother was. She ran away from her Vault when she was a teenager and joined the Brotherhood soon after. 

- The Brotherhood doesn't recruit women - Cooper turns his body towards you, fishing for lies like a shark sniffing for blood. 

- Oh, it doesn't? - your lips pull back into a teasing smile, which perhaps isn't the smartest thing to do, but entertainment is scarce in the Wastelands, and you're determined to have some fun - She posed as a man for years, picked up a job as a medic.

Cooper hums to himself, inviting you to elaborate with an inclination of his head. 

- There, she met my father - you continue, looking over at the last glowing embers of the bonfire - They were discovered, court martialed for treason. They escaped together and had me somewhere along the way.

Your Pip-Boy still cracks, the radiation emanating from the Ghoul making the Geiger meter go haywire. With soft eyes, your hand traces the outline of the screen, watching the way green light dances on your fingers. 

- The forbidden love of the Wasteland - you sigh into the silence - Sounds like a title of some romance novel, no?

- Or a bad porno - Cooper grumbles, rolling his eyes.

- What's a porno?

His head snaps towards you in record speed, a myriad of emotions running through his mangled expression. It settles on deep annoyance, when he notices the sly smirk on your lips, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. 

- Gotcha - your attempt at finger guns is pathetic at best.

- Oh, you think you're a fucking comedian, huh? - the bounty hunter asks, a slight amused tint to his words, which you consider to be a small victory.

- That's why they put a bounty on me - you giggle - I'm too damned funny. 

- Shut it.

The sudden change in his tone catches you off guard, and you cock an eyebrow at him, confused. The Ghoul looks much more tense than seconds ago, his hand tightening around his gun. One of his legs kicks up a pile of dirt, smothering the dying embers of the bonfire, as he leans forward, seemingly ready to jump. 

- Had I known you were such a buzz kill...-

You're not allowed to finish, as the Ghoul basically throws himself in your direction. Your yelp is cut short with a piece of flimsy cloth being shoved into your mouth. A series of muffled sounds, vaguely resembling "is this my robe?" escape you, and the Ghoul pushed against your head, until you fall back down onto the ground. 

His body is hot against yours, as he covers you entirely with his weight. It's quite difficult to breathe through the makeshift gag and the overwhelming scent of blood, gunpowder, and the sickly sweet undertone of rot. As well as the unfamiliar feeling of having someone so close. You were a hermit after all. 

- I said, shut the fuck up - he whispers harshly into your ear, and you shiver underneath him, as his chest rises and falls against your back. 

Then, a sound somewhere close to the forest line makes your head whip in its direction. Cracking of twigs and heavy footsteps, coming closer and closer with clear determination. 

- Healer? - your entire body stiffens, as a familiar voice rings out through the trees. - Are you alright, Healer?

Benny. The same Benny, which led this damned bounty hunter right to your doorstep is currently making his merry way towards the both of you. Your eyes follow the way the Ghoul's thumb loads the pistol with a click of finality, and suddenly new energy floods your system.

- Stop fucking moving - Cooper grounds down on his teeth, as you attempt to free yourself from both his grip, and the lasso's.

Images of Benny, bloodied and dead, flash through your mind, and despite your lack of any sympathy towards the man, you don't want to see it. So, you start to move again, violently shaking under the Ghoul, forcing the lasso to slide from your body. Your hips jerk from the ground, bucking into him like a wild animal, and somewhere behind your ear, you can hear him suck in a sharp breath. Which you have no time to dwell upon. Your tongue fights against the fabric of your robe, and after a second you're able to spit it out.

- Don't shoot him - you plead feverishly, hands gripping the Ghoul's forearm - I'll talk to him, he'll leave. Just don't shoot him, please.

Cooper looks down at you, his eyes hard on your face, as he watches out for any signs of deceit. Then, he presses his lips into a thin line.

- Make it quick, or I'll pop his head clean off his shoulders. - southern accent floods every syllable, and were you not fighting to save a life (again), you would've blushed.

- Yes, thank you. I'll be quick. Thank you. - words spill out of you like a broken faucet, whispered into the space between your bodies, as the bounty hunter tugs off the loop of his lasso. 

You take a moment to steady yourself, as he drags you up with him, hand twisted into the front of your shirt. Still a little stunned, you allow him to manoeuvre you, turning your body in his grasp, until your back is pressed flush against his front. 

Strong arm sneaks over your shoulders, hand clasping around the column of your throat, while the other one waits just outside of your vision. The barrel of the gun rests between your shoulder and your neck, and the coolness of the metal causes a myriad of goosebumps to erupt across your skin. 

- I'm here Benny - you call out, praying to anything that would listen, that your plan would work - Come out, slowly. 

To his credit, Benny has always been quite good at following directions. There weren't many attributes about him either way, a bit dim in the head, a bit too heroic. 

And definitely a bit too quick to pull out a gun.

Which is what he does as soon as he sees your peculiar situation. The Ghoul drums his fingers against your pulse point, and Benny approaches, a simple shotgun in front of him.

- What the hell...?

- Benny, I need you to listen to me - your voice sounds way too panicked, and you swallow hard to fake some illusion of control over this situation - I need you to turn around, and leave.

- But, there's a Ghoul with a gun behind you, Healer.

You nearly jump out of your skin, when you feel the hot breath of your unwanted companion on the back of your neck. You can almost imagine his chapped lips, so close to your skin.

- Time's a tickin', sweetheart - he whispers, and your blood runs cold in your veins. 

- He's a - you swallow, mouth going dry in an instant - He's my friend. Who's getting very anxious with the trigger, Benny, so please, just go home. 

Deep down inside you know there is no scenario, where the farmer leaves alive. He signed his death warrant the moment he stepped out of the shadows, yet for some unknown reason, that just makes you fight against the odds harder. Call it dumb optimism, perhaps you're possessed by your mother's spirit. Or perhaps the chems have finally scrambled your brains for good. 

- He's not looking very friendly - Benny's gun sways slightly, as he tries to keep it raised, muscles evidently straining against the weight - He's the guy that shot Pete.

Oh for fucks sake, your whole body starts shaking at this point, heart thrumming in your chest like a moth batting against a lampshade. You can feel the Ghoul smirk against the skin of your shoulder, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. His thumb presses slightly into your pulse, feeling it run rampant against his finger. 

- Please - somehow you hope the desperation in your voice will be enough - Please, leave. Benny, please.

Benny looks between you and the Ghoul peaking over your trembling form. You can see his brain working overtime, scrunched eyebrows, smacking of the lips. You're only praying it's working in the right direction. Then, some idea flashes across his expression, and you know in the hollow of your stomach, that this is his end.

- If I save you, will you marry me? - he asks, looking at you with the utmost hopeful expression.

- ...what?

Confusion doesn't even fully register in your mind, as the deafening sound of a gun being fired nearly blows up your eardrums. At first you're not sure, what you're looking at. Where there used to be Benny, now there's a carcass, mangled and bloody. It's hard to figure out, where individual parts of his body are, some bones sticking out from the chunky mush. A spray of red falls onto your face like a morning mist, and the scent of iron and gunpowder is stunning your senses. 

You can't move. Eyes glued to what once used to Benny, you don't even notice, as the Ghoul removes himself from you, placing the lasso over your head and around your body. The loop is secured tightly, and the bounty hunter tugs on it a couple of times, just to test its durability. Then, lazily, he picks up your messenger bag, swinging it over his shoulder. 

- The first time he came to me for help, he tried to domesticate a rad roach - you mutter absentmindedly, not caring if your unwanted companion is hearing you - Wanted it to help with the farm work. I had to stitch half his left side. 

- Stupid life deserves a stupid death.

- You're a fucking monster - you spit out, the feeling of Benny's blood on your lips almost making you gag.

Apparently, the Ghoul takes offense to that, because almost instantly, he's in front of you, his hand gripping your throat, and pushing you hard against the metal plating of the destroyed plane. Stars erupt behind your eyelids, as your head knocks hard into the wall, pain barely registering under the confusion.

- I have been more than accommodating to you, little princess - the Ghoul snarls in your direction, but all you can focus on, is his other hand, grabbing your bruised chin - I've entertained your little medical escapade, I let you negotiate with that dimwit over there.

The warmth of his body suffocates you stronger than any hand around your throat. You can't decide on the color of his eyes, as they seem to shift between amber and green, and completely black. Your mouth opens just a smidge, as you try to defend yourself in any way, but before you can speak, the Ghoul shoves two gloved fingers into your mouth, silencing you in an instant. 

- I could be so much worse, darlin', and I don't think you would like that - his voice lowers itself barely above a whisper, and he watches your expression shift under his grip.

You can't help it, really, the way your body reacts to this rough manhandling. It's not like you could predict being pinned to a wall by a stranger would make your thighs press together. Cooper looks down. He smiles like a cat, that's just found the fattest of mice, when his eyes drag back up to your face. 

- Or perhaps you would - his knee presses against the middle of your thighs, just short of forcing them apart, and you gasp around his fingers.

As if nothing has happened, he pulls away, so suddenly, you nearly fall over. His gloved hand glistens with your saliva, and gracefully, he wipes it clean on your shirt. Blushed, panting, and very angry at this turn of events, you stare daggers at him, as he tugs at the lasso, forcing you to start moving.  

- What is your name? - you demand, blood running hot and defiant in your veins. 

Cooper stares for just a moment too long. The way you seem to bristle in rage, even though that farmer truly was stupid, and you know it too. He likes the way your eyes harden, the way your jaw sets, when you realize this is no longer fun and games. When you recognize, how dangerous he can be, how mean and ruthless. He'd be a fool not to admit it,  it makes him feel powerful, revered. 

And the undertone of humiliation running through the length of your spine is just such a delicious addition. Almost better than chems. Almost more addicting.

Lips tugging back into a nasty smirk, he appraises you with his gaze, surprised when your resolve seems to harden even more. 

- You, Healer - your title sounds wrong coming from his thin lips, worse than any other time you've heard it - Can call me "sir".

Something akin to disgust runs through your expression, and you turn away with a grumble. 

- Fat fucking chance.

[dazed-and-confused23]

Dear Hearts and Gentle People

Summary: You don't expect to see the ghoul you fucked two weeks ago passed out in the sand close to a caravan trail. You stop and decide to help.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Continuation -> HERE

*this ghoul has taken me by the reins and will not let go. So I hope you enjoy some fluff and a continuation of Quickie.

Considering that your profession is that of a wondering trader, you have all sorts of goodies for sale at all times. That included the drug that all ghouls coveted, the liquid miracle that kept them from going feral. You didn't know what it was made from or how it was made, but they sold for good caps, so you kept them handy.

And it was fortunate that you did so when you find the ghoul that you'd had sex with not two weeks ago passed out on the side of the dirt trail. You cautiously approach, gun at the read in case he'd already lost himself and gone off the deep end. You nudge him with the toe of your boot.

"Hey, Uh- Cooper, right? You okay down there?" You ask, and a groan of displeasure is your answer. You sigh heavily and crouch, placing both hands on his side so that you can roll him over to his back. The ghoul blinks up at you slowly, and you wonder how long he's been here.

Cooper licks his dry lips, searching this smoothskin's face, and his lips pull up in a tired smirk when he realizes that it's you who found him. Huh. What were the odds.

"Well," He croaks, voice low and weak, "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

You huff at him and take in his disgruntled appearance, the ghoul dried out and baked in the high sun. This weak, Cooper must have been here for at least a full day. You were impressed that he was still alive.

"We should really stop meeting like this," you quip and sling you backpack around you. You shift through the pockets until you find the metal case you keep the chems you sell inside. The ghoul watches you with interest, cracked lips twisted in a pleased smirk.

"Right pocket," He gruffed out, and you understood her meant his inhaler. You fished it out and loaded the drug in, then pressed the mouthpiece to his lips before pressing down the plunger. Cooper greedily sucked it down, and a shot of energy blazed through his system, allowing the ghoul to push himself up after a moment.

You stood and stepped back to give him room, watching with interest as Cooper dusted himself off and fixed his hat back on his bald head. He clears his throat when he turns to you, a curious look in his pretty eyes.

"What do I owe you?" He asks. The ghoul isn't fond of being in debt to people, even the ones he likes.

You shrug, though a mischievous smile lingers on your lips, and you hand over two extra vials of the drug that the ghoul obviously needs. It wouldn't be that big of a hit to your profits.

"Let's just say it's on the house," you say and wink at Cooper, who laughs and closes the distance between the two of you. His hand finds your jaw, cradling it in his calloused palm.

"Then allow me to pay you for any future transactions, Darlin'," Coop rumbled and then tugged you in for a much needed kiss.

[bratzforchris]

bed chem-m. sturniolo

SUMMARY: in which matt is looking a little too hot in his new tiktok

PAIRING: n/a

WARNINGS: masturbation (f)

WORD COUNT: 654

A NOTE FROM LILAH: i love sabrina carpenter so much that's actually my wife if you were wondering

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅Manifest that you're oversized I digress, got me scrollin' like Out of breath, got me goin' like

You laid in your bed, scrolling through Matt's TikTok account yet again. Did you have better things you could be doing on a Saturday night? Probably. But that didn't motivate you to get up and move. Instead, you continued to watch each and every video, biting your lip shyly when you noticed a video in which Matt's bulge was clearly visible in his baggy jeans. The more you scrolled, the heavier your breaths became, the knot in your lower stomach slowly tightening as your eyes trailed from Matt's happy trail to the waistband of his jeans and beyond.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Who's the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent? Ooh (Ah) Maybe it's all in my head

Just as you were about to close the app out for the night, a notification appeared at the top of your screen. @mattsturniolo just posted a new video it read. You smiled to yourself, immedaitely clicking on the notification and navigating to the video. The TikTok showed Matt in a white jacket and baggy jeans, lip syncing along to a song you didn't know, by an artist with a British accent. All it took was one play of the video, and your breaths were increasing in speed again. He looked good. He always looked good, but today was different. Maybe it was the song, or the jacket, or the tousled hair, but whatever it was, it had you slowly trailing your pink, manicured fingers underneath the waistband of your pajama shorts and the elastic of your underwear. No one was home right now, so you were free to let your imagination wander...wherever it would take you.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ But I bеt we'd have really good bеd chem How you pick me up, pull 'em down, turn me 'round Oh, it just makes sense How you talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things That's bed (Bed) chem (Chem) How you're lookin' at me, yeah, I know what that means And I'm obsessed

Your fingers slowly began to trace circles on your already swollen clit, the thought of you and Matt tangled in silky sheets together playing in your mind like a movie. You could imagine the way he would pick you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he carried you to bed. He'd practically tear your lacy thong off, throwing it somewhere on your bedroom floor. Maybe he'd even turn you so that you were facing a mirror; the more you thought, the faster your fingers pulsated against your clit, your folds already slick from the mere thought of Matt. You could practically hear him whispering the dirtiest, most depraced things in your ear as he took you from behind, forcing you to watch yourself get absolutely railed in the mirror. You thought about the way you'd be able to see him smirking, those oh-so-blue eyes that you had fallen in love with when you'd first started watching the triplets would be alight with the mischief of making you accommodate his cock. In short, you were absolutely obsessed with the idea of Matt fucking you, and the way you began to pump your fingers in and out of your dripping pussy was physical proof of that.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅Come right on me, I mean camaraderie Said you're not in my time zone, but you wanna be Where art thou? Why not uponeth me? See it in my mind, let's fulfill the prophecy

Your mind flipped scenarios as you began to grind your hips against your bed, fingers working overtime on your clit and pussy. Matt was on top of you now, thrusting into you roughly. He'd have his head buried in your neck as he pulled out quickly, thick, white spurts of cum covering your stomach as he whimpered in your ear. You knew it was stupid, but you didn't care. Rationally, you would always be just a fan to Matt. Hell, you didn't even live anywhere close to even having a remote chance of meeting him. Part of you even wondered if he would want you in the way that you wanted him. You were pulled back into reality by the ache in your lower tummy that was begging you to stop edging yourself. You once again thought about Matt on top of you, his tattooed arm holding you down as he pumped into you, desperately chasing both your and his orgasm. You could see it in your mind so clearly, making you wish Matt was here to fulfill your wildest fantasies.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Ooh (Ah) Who's the cute guy with the wide, blue eyes and the big bad mm? Like

Your legs violently shook as you fingered yourself, your clit throbbing wih each thought of Matt you had. Maybe he'd even finger you himself, the cool metal of his rings being a drastic contrast to his warm hands as they pumped in and out of you, encouraging you to take the punishment with faux "tough guy" façade. Those bright blue eyes would crinkle as he watched you squirm underneath him. That was the thought that sent you over the edge. You finally released, covering your fingers in your cum. You knew that all Matt would ever be to you was a fantasy, but for now, you enjoyed the feeling of thinking about the chemistry in bed between the two of you.

tags ♡: @blahbel668 @mattsturnswhore @sofieeeeex @jetaimevous @pkfferoo @idekman1231 @svphscc @littlestar44 @https-roman @flow3rsturns13 @supercoolgirl69 @hearts4chriss @urprobablyscuffed @pepsiluvr0209 @vsigishishis @addiestarx @sturn1ololuvr @sturnclouds @memea32221 @hoes4matthew @whoreformatthewsturniolo @facingreailitysgravity @sturnsmia @sturnobsessedwh0re @sturniolos-f4n

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

[whorediaries-09]

hey there love, congrats on ur upcoming bday although i do hope i'll be able to congratulate on the actual day) <3

my request is with your mind wants to leave ✒️ and slow morning sex with sirius, like cozy af, under the sheets, with rain outside, aftercare, the good stuff (i just want proper autumn already) please and thank you 🧡

hello darling, thank you for sending in a request and the wish hehe!

bed chem

pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- 18+ content, fluff. a/n- blame sabrina carpenter for the fic title ☝️

little train. join my celebration!

you don't wake up to the raspy voice of sirius this morning. you wake up to the sound of rain pattering on the glass windows. he's unnaturally close to the warmth of your body, his tatted arms wrapped tight around your body. his chin his tucked in the crook of your neck. you feel his slight stubble tickling your skin.

you rake your nails over his cold skin, in an attempt to wake him up. he grips you tighter, pulling you closer to his naked torso. the sheets soft on your bodies sleepy bodies.

'sweetheart,' you whisper, turning your head to look at his sleepy form. he groans, hiding his face deeper within the crevice of your neck.

'i've got to go to work,' you say, trying to gently move his grip around your body. if you were being honest with yourself, you didn't really want to go to work. you'd rather just stay at home, soaked in the warmth of your boyfriend's heat, away from the gloomy, rainy weather outside. and make some love, too.

'i don't want you to go today, love,' he says, voice cold and raspy after a good night's sleep. 'stay today. i'll make you breakfast just the way you like it, and i'll make you tea too,'

'just breakfast and tea?' you tease, completely turning your body around to face him. he smiles, as your fingers remove scattered locks of hair from his face.

'maybe love too,' he says, sliding his hand under your sleeping shirt, fingertips cold against your hot skin. you let out a soft chuckle at his words, tension clearly developing between the both of you, but none wanting to make the give in and make the first move.

he traces his finger on your waist, curving down to your torso, watching as your breathes become slow and bothered, your hot skin picking up goosebumps from his cold touch.

'don't be such a tease, sirius,' you warn, fingers intertwining with his locks, as you pull him closer to your lips, least bothered about morning breath. he smiles against them, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. he hooks his finger on the waistline of your (his) boxers, slowly pulling them down.

'i'm not being a tease, sweetie,' he says, smirking. he flips you on your back, towering over you, his body between your spread legs. he bends down, placing his hot lips on your thighs, leading towards your core.

'so wet for me already,' he says, rubbing his thumb on your clit. his stubble scratches the soft skin of your inner thighs as he kisses them. you wrap your legs around his head, pulling him closer to your hot core. he slides between your legs, lips trailing all over your body, before he's positioned perfectly, his hardening cock at your slit.

'come on, sirius,' you whine. he smiles, running his fingers through his hair, putting the locks behind his ears. he enters into you slowly, feeling the warmth of your cunt pulling him so perfectly.

'oh fuck,' he gasps, as he starts moving in slowly. he pulls you closer to him, wrapping his hands around your waist as he does so. he thrusts and pushes into your slow and sweet, feeling you completely. your lips lock with his, moans and groans swallowed. you feel his tongue interlock with yours, as he slowly increases his pace, and pulling you impossibly closer.

you dig your nails into his back as he hits your sweet spot, the coil of orgasm bubbling in you. your walls convulse around him. you feel his thrusts go sloppy, and you bend your back, revealing skin for him to mark. he sinks grazes your skin with his lips.

'fuck, sirius,' you groan, as your orgasm hits, and your walls convulse and you release yourself around his cock. it stimulates his own, and you feel hot coils released inside you.

'you were so good,' he says, laying you down, not pulling himself out just yet. you feel his cock soften inside you and you moan softly, still sensitive. he lays down behind you, wrapping you tight with his arms, and pulling you closer. he trails innumerous kisses on your arms, neck and face, burying his face within the crevice of your neck. you sigh, contently, cradling his face in your palms, eyes raking over his beautiful face,

'i love you so much,' he pecks you on your lips, tucking a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear,

'i love you so much more,'

****************************************

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

****************************************

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine this: bed chem

character: Logan howlett

warnings: blow job, nudity, pain kink, dirty talk, logan naked djsjs, not edited or proof read

he was completely naked, because as much as he wanted your soft lips around his aching dick, he wanted you to have a full show. he knew the way his body drove you crazy, the glaze in your eyes whenever he was shirtless.

he didn't dislike blowjobs by any means but he preferred to go down on you. but the moments when you begged for his cock in your mouth, practically begging on your knees.

he loved teasing you, but he also liked to enable this behavior. he always found grey sweats in his dresser, at some point you would steal them. But he liked wearing them for you, practically foaming at the mouth as his hair trailed up his v-line and you thought about reaching to touch him.

and now you were. you sat on the bed, wearing your favorite lingerie. he had his favorite pieces on you but he preferred when you picked it out because the more you liked it the more confident you were. When you weren't afraid to be sexy and all he could think about was fucking you.

but it happened to be that your favorite outfit was now his favorite. your breasts spilling out of your bra, the way the tops of your panties hugged your stomach. he wanted to run his hands all over you and kissing you like an animal.

the two were kissing like animals, your red lipstick smeared, your hair was wild from his hands grabbing on to it.

you licked your lips as his cock twitched as it stood long, hard and angry. you moved up on to your knees, reaching up to him and grabbing his neck to pull him down in a hot, open mouth kiss as your hand started trailing down his chest.

logan loved your hands on him, flexing his pec under your hands and making a soft giggle fall from your mouth. but as your lips connected with the top his abs, humor was gone. your hand trailing down to his v-line, your pointer finger skimming around his shaft but not touching him.

as you looked up at him, his mouth was slightly open as he breathed heavily. he blinked down at you, his hazel eyes dilated and dark. his tongue coming out to wet his lips as his hand came out to soothe at your hair.

you leant forward to softly kiss his hips before trialing them down. logan wasnt the most patient man, but watching you clench your thighs together as you kissed him? he'd be patient for a little while longer.

logan distracted himself by trailing his fingers against your back. feeling the goose pimples that bloomed along your skin. you'd never been so obsessed with someone, no one ever made your drool or made shivers go down your spine.

"c'mon pretty girl, gonna touch my cock?"

"only if you ask nicely." you teased, as his chest rumbled with a dark laugh. his hand coming to your hair and pulling your head back, so you look into his eyes, your neck bared, your breathing intensifying.

"how about you suck my dick, baby." you licked your lips.

"your lucky im desperate for it."

"for what?" he taunted

"your cock." his grip loosened up on your hair as you leant back down, your legs moving behind you as you jutted your ass out for him. moving closer to him before starting at the bottom of his shaft, his cock warm against your tongue as you trailed upwards. your hand coming up to move his cock towards your mouth before you wrapped your lips around his tip.

logan groaned, the sound going straight to your core as you lightly moaned around his cock, before reaching blindly for his hand on your head and squeezing it. getting the hint, his hands threading tightly into your hair and he started to take control. his cock disappearing further into your mouth as you loosen your jaw. you breathe through your nose as his tip hits the back of your throat.

"fuck princess." he gritted his teeth, the lines on his face wrinkling as his pleasure took over his face. your hand comes down to cup at his balls, lightly massaging him as his hand started moving your mouth along his cock. fucking into your mouth like you were a toy for him to use, tears welling up at the corner of your eyes and saliva soaking his cock. the way you suck him in, the way your eyes stare up at him.

logan wasn't sure if he enjoyed this more, or if you did. the sounds you were making were going to bring him to the edge fast. that's when he felt it, your fingers sinking into his hips and dragging. you knew that you weren't actually hurting him, even as you almost draw blood. He groaned out, his head tilting back, you knew he loved it.

he pulls you off as he started to feel the familiar feeling in his gut. his hand coming to pull your hair back behind your ear. your hand reached out as he let go of your hair, starting to pump him as your leant down to lick at his balls and sucking one into your mouth. the vibration of your whimpers made him pant.

then your lips sealed around his tip, swirling your tongue around the head before lapping at his slit. your hand didn't stop it's long tight strokes and when his hips started meeting your movements, your lips popped off before you spit on him. "yeah pretty girl, get me all wet. filthy fucking mouth." when he started the rambling dirty talk you knew he was close, his words slurring together, his eyes half-lidded.

"come right on me." you begged as you pumped your hand faster and massaging his balls. "please lo, i need it."

"need what princess? tell me."

"your come i want your come."

"yeah baby, how bad?" he slurred, staring down at you as you lapped at his tip.

"need it so fucking bad, tastes so good. your cock is so fucking good."

"yeah baby, gonna fucking come all over your pretty lingerie, fucking ruin it."

"yes, fuck yes." you moaned, putting his cock back into your mouth as he pulsated, before moving back as you started to feel the come spurt out of his tip. Moving his cock down to your chest and pumping it steadily. one of your favorite things about him was the fact that he stayed hard. you knew it wasn't because of you, but you liked to think that it was.

his come painted your chest, he was moaning your name his voice timber and shaky. you let him ride out his high before letting him go, his cock bobbing as your finger came to your chest, swiping his come off your chest and popping it your mouth.

that's when he grabbed at your hips, in moments, one of his hands practically ripping off your panties before turning your around on your knees.

[preciousbarnes]

Languages of Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky and you are complete opposites in day to day life. You’re a local florist, surrounded by plants and soft colors. Bucky is grumpy and rough around the edges. At nights together, his softer side shows, whispering sweet nothings to you that you love but never understand.

Word count: 1.7k

Tags: smut, first time, soft sex, fluff, bit of a language barrier, grumpy!bucky x literal sunshine, florist!reader.

You first really noticed it the first night you slept in the same bed together. It was innocent, you and Bucky were taking your time in the relationship, but you asked him to stay the night at your apartment above your little florist shop since it was storming so horribly outside after your dinner date with him.

You both got ready for bed, Bucky stripping down to just his boxers and you changing into a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. You both climbed into bed, you shyly staying to your side of the bed until you felt Bucky’s strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You let out a little squeak in surprise, causing Bucky to give a resulting deep chuckle. You laid in his arms, nuzzling yourself close to him as you entangled your legs with his, enjoying the contrast of his furnace like body heat, and the coolness of his metal arm. You laid there silently for the longest time, trading gentle and soothing pets.

That’s when Bucky softly started talking to you in a language you didn’t understand.

“Ya ne znayu, chem ya zasluzhil eto, no ya tak blagodaren” He mutters to you in Russian, gently running his fingers through your hair. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m so grateful.

You look at his face, taking in the soft and heartfelt expression. You had no clue what he had just said, but judging by his face you were certain it was something sweet. You gently pecked his lips, making his little smile grow. You both fell asleep in each other arms that night, feeling like your hearts were so full of affection and love.

The second time it happened was in a more heated moment. It was your first time. Your first time ever, and his first time with you. You were both laying in the middle of your bed under the soft sheets, lights dimmed in the room with soft jazz playing in the background. You were naked, and Bucky remained in his boxers, his cock straining against the fabric, forgotten. He had taken out all the stops, wanting to make your first time so special, feeling so honored to be your first. He had gently worked you open with his fingers and mouth, whispering sweet nothings in English between your legs.

“You’re doing so good doll, opening up for me so prettily.”

“Look at you, darling. So fucking gorgeous.”

“Can't wait to be inside of you, sweetheart. Going to make you feel so, so good baby,”

After plenty of foreplay, he raised up, leaving you soaked and a pleading mess for him.

“Please, Bucky. Please, I want you, please.” You gently begged, barely recognizing your own voice, already so wrecked.

“Are you sure, moya lyubov'?” He asks you, wanting to be certain that this is something you want. My love.

You nod your head, hand coming up to gently caress his jaw, feeling the stubble underneath your fingertips, a stark and rough contrast to the soft expression on his face, one full of love and utter adoration.

He stripped off his boxers, tossing them off the side of the bed. You let your eyes trail down from his face, down his chest and chiseled abs, to his dick. It was flushed, bobbing a bit from a twitch. The length and girth had your mouth watering, just imagining how much better than just fingers that would feel, how full and absolutely stuffed it would make you feel. His head glistened in the soft light, wet from precum that had leaked out, showing you just how thoroughly he enjoyed the foreplay as well.

You reached down, grasping him in your hand, making him suck in a breath at the touch. You gently and slowly pumped your fist, using your thumb to gather the precum beaded at the head and move it down his shaft. As you pleasured him, you looked up to see his face overcome with pleasure, soft groans leaving his lips. Fire stirred in your gut with the realization that you were making him feel that way. Something possessive swirled in you as well, not wanting anyone to ever see this side of him again, wanting the sight to be yours and yours alone.

After a few moments, you were paused by his hand coming down to grasp your wrist.

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to last if you keep touching me like this,” He says roughly, his voice taking on a gravelly tone, overtaken with the pleasure you were bringing him.

You smile, proud of yourself which makes him smirk and chuckle. He removes his hand from your wrist, taking himself in his hand to line himself up. He slowly pushes in, filling you to the brim. Your back arches off the bed, a moan being ripped from your throat. Once he's in you to the hilt, his head drops to your shoulder, a groan leaving his lips. He’s overwhelmed with pleasure, never knowing it was possible for it to feel this good. You’re so warm, so tight, your velvety walls gripping him just right.

He begins thrusting, slow and sensual but strong thrusts hitting just the right spot. Your nails rake down his back, legs coming up to wrap around his hips, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you.

That’s when you hear it. That soft, deep voice muttering words to you that you don’t understand, slipping into what you now know is Russian.

“Ty chuvstvuyesh' sebya tak khorosho, detka.” You feel so good, baby.

“Ty kak budto sozdana dlya menya.” It’s like you were made for me.

“Zakhvatyvayushchiy,” Breathtaking.

“U tebya yest' ves' ya, telo i dusha.” You have all of me, body and soul.

He keeps muttering soft phrases and words against your skin that night, cherishing you in a way you never knew someone could. It's the contrast between the sharp thrusts and gentle hands and words that send you over the edge in the end, vision going white as you pull him over the ledge with you into absolute bliss.

After you both are sated and content, laying in each other's arms, he mutters one more phrase as he gently kisses the place where your jaw meets your throat.

“Ya tebya lyublyu” he says worshipfully, almost like a prayer leaving his lips.

You normally just smile at the sweet words you don’t understand, giving his kisses or hugs in response. This phrase though, it felt important to know, so you ask.

He looks at you like you hold the answer to all the universes questions, bringing his hand up to run his thumb against your cheekbone so softly you barely feel it.

“I love you,” he tells you, easily but so full of conviction.

A smile breaks across your face, as you return those three little words to him.

The next time you hear the language slip from his lips was when a recruit got a little to close, not knowing you were there at the training compound to see your boyfriend.

“Ne trogay yeye” He spat out, roughly grabbing the hand the recruit had reached out in goals of touching your arm. Don’t touch her. He was shooting daggers with his eyes at the recruit, who was now backing away, stuttering out an apology before quickly walking away.

The look on his face was reminiscent of a cartoon grumpy bear, making you giggle gently which led him to look over to you, a confused look on his face with the remnants of a scowl still there.

You reached up on your tip toes to kiss him gently on the lips, replacing the scowl with a dopey smile. In the background you could hear Steve’s chuckle at the lovestruck look on his best friends face as you grabbed his hand, leading him out to your car as you told him about the new shipment of flowers you just got in that you wanted to show him.

You found yourself in your floral shop with Natasha, her helping you with organizing order forms as you got out supplies to make another arrangement.

“Hey Nat, you’re fluent in Russian, right?” You ask the agent, earning a smile from her and a soft “Da.” Yes.

“You’ve been around when Bucky says stuff to me, right?”

She nods and smiles again, seeing where this is going.

“You want to know what he says?” She asks, filing away the orders and turning her full attention to you.

“Yeah, I always want to ask, but he has this look on his face. This soft expression. Like how people look at baby kittens. It makes me feel so cherished. I don’t ever want to ruin the moment,” You explain, hoping she understands.

She laughs at your comparison to Bucky’s face to how people look at kittens.

“Yknow, if I heard anyone else say Bucky looks at something how people look at baby anything, at one time I would’ve thought they had lost their mind. But yeah, that’s how he looks at you sometimes. He worships you, honey. Most of the time, when I’ve been around and he’s spoken to you in the language, he’s telling you that you're his whole world, that he feels so lucky to have found you, that he feels blessed, that you’re his angel, that he is yours completely, just really soft shit. He loves you.” She tells you, making your heart swell.

“Well,” you begin, “can you help me with something for him?” you ask.

Later that night you both found yourselves curled up together on the couch of your now shared apartment above your floral shop, Bucky playing with your hair as your hand gently strokes up and down one of the arms wrapped around you as you listen to his heartbeat with your head rested on his chest.

That’s when you say it.

“Ya beskonechno lyublyu tebya” you tell him, hoping you got the pronunciation right. Based on the shocked look on his face, followed by a wide smile stretching across his face, you’re assuming you did well enough for him to have understood. I love you to the moon and back.

“I love you too doll, to all the planets and beyond and back” He tells you, pulling you in for a soft kiss.

[zweiginator]

need college!artrick to make out with me in front of my loser boyfriend!!!!!!! in the club!!! on the dance floor, patrick has his tongue all the way down my throat, while art is leaving a slick trail along my neck, both groping me obscenely. really it's more something out of a soft core porn than an appropriate scene at a bar. arts hands practically cupping my tits under my shirt while patrick palms my ass under my skirt. it almost looks like they're planning to just fuck me right there among so many other people, too drunk to notice the scene right next to them. but my boyfriend isn't, he sobered right up the second he saw the two of them. he'd seen them leave my dorm last week, he was screaming and yelling about it, demanding to know why they had been there. but truly it was just for chem notes, that time it was. he hadn't asked about all the other times they'd been in my room, trying to convince me that they could treat me better...

well know they truly had their chance, not just to show me, but to show my loser boyfriend that he doesn't deserve me. he can't give me what i need, only they can. the two of them make eye contact with my loser boyfriend across the bar, both pulling their lips off me for a brief moment, just so my boyfriend can see me whine and beg them not to stop. please don't stop, please felt so good, please need it so bad. have art spin me around to kiss him deeply, maybe he even forces me to look over and make eye contact with my boyfriend as he pulls his lips from mine. need to look away, embarrassed to be caught cheating so openly, but before i have a chance to run over and apologize, beg for forgiveness, claim it was just a lapse in judgement, art grabs my hips and lugs me over his shoulder, carrying me back to his and patrick's dorm room. patrick keeping a hand on my ass the whole walk back, keeping my skirt flush with my body so no one walking past can get a glimpse of my panties... that's only for their eyes

WOOOOOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF i luv luv luv them 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

-🐞

ohmygodohmygod

you feel a neediness for them that you never felt for your boyfriend. he's a loser really. flirts with other girls openly, but god forbid you give your number to your study group in chemistry. you just cant deal with the hot and the cold and art and patrick are so fucking attentive to you.

they came to your dorm the week before, the night before your big test. the night you had found out that your boyfriend had been texting other girls. you didn't know the nature of the messages, but it fucking hurt and you felt stupid. they listened to you and rubbed your back. took your mind off of it by showing you stupid fail videos and pinching your cheeks when you finally laughed at one.

and truly, nothing inappropriate happened that night. but your boyfriend came over late to apologize and art and patrick came out of your dorm with those smirks of theirs plastered on their faces. of course it was going to raise suspicion. but you told him the truth.

"it was just studying. you know i have a midterm tomorrow. dont pin this on me now." because truly, it was pathetic. you were mad at him, and now he was going to spin this around around and scapegoat you?

"you see how it's a little suspicious that i come by and see two dudes that every fucking girl drools over coming out of here? looking all smug?"

"i can't control their facial expressions." you look up at him with a cold gaze, your blue glitter pen still in your hand.

"fuck this."

and then he left. and things had just been rocky ever since. a tug-of-war of pissing the other off. your relationship was already on its last leg--but you figured by the weekend it would be done. for good.

and now it's friday night and you and him decide to go out to your favorite bar. you doll yourself up and wear a tiny little skirt and a cropped tank top. of course your boyfriend hates it. says you're asking for trouble but you just roll your eyes.

and as soon as you get to the bar you both split up, boomerang around to mingle with your friends, but you never quite come back together. you're just fucking sick of him.

you feel a tap on your shoulder, and you almost huff because you think it's him but then you turn around. oh. it's art and patrick. they tower over you, obstructing your vision of what's behind you. peer down at you with these big smiles. they're clearly already tipsy.

they set their beer bottles down and help you up onto the barstool. order another round of drinks.

"did you come here with your boyfriend?" patrick yells in your ear.

you nod, taking a sip of your vodka soda. "he's somewhere around here."

" did he ditch you?" art looks concerned. his jaw ticks as he looks around.

"no." you shake your head. the alcohol fucking burns. bitter down your throat. "we just parted ways. it's better that way."

"we agree." patrick winks at you and takes a swig of his beer, pink lips wrapped around the bottle. your eyes linger until you realize you're staring.

they're so close to you. if it were any other pair of guys you'd feel suffocated, annoyed. but you feel safe and desired. like you're the prize, the prettiest girl in the room. they tell you you are.

"you look so fucking gorgeous." art says, against your lips. he has to be this close, you tell yourself. the music is loud and the chatter is louder.

you flush and thank art and patrick butts in next, half standing and half sitting as he leans on the barstool.

"he's right." another swig. "you always look beautiful but you are jaw-dropping tonight."

you don't know what to say. do you compliment them back? you don't really know how it happens but art grabs your hand and leads you to the dance floor. it's packed, but there's still a spot for the three of you--if you stand real close. your back is against art's chest and you feel his heart pumping with the beat of the song. how strong his chest is. patrick's chest is against yours and he throws your arms over his shoulders.

you don't see your boyfriend. so it's probably fine. and you're just dancing--right?

but then you can smell the beer and tobacco on patrick's breath. his bottom lip tickles yours and art's hands are on your waist. one snakes up the front of your body, in between your tits. you're wearing a thin bra and his thumb brushes against your nipple.

so you moan. and patrick moans and he slips his tongue into your mouth and you suck on it, just a little. art pushes your hair to the side and leaves open-mouthed, sloppy kisses on the side of your neck and you feel two erections pressed against you. your tiny skirt is almost completely flipped up as patrick reaches around to palm your bare ass, which art rubs against.

you don't care that people are watching, you don't even remember where you are. so drunk off your drink and the eroticism of their lips all over you. licking you, sucking along your neck and whispering filthy secrets in your ear.

your pupils are blown and you open your eyes and patrick is staring at the corner where your boyfriend is, fuming at the scene in front of him. the people who noticed what's going on just wait for someone to do something. half expecting that art and patrick will run away with their tails between their legs, not looking for trouble.

but they want trouble. so patrick grabs you by the jaw and lets his warm spit trickle onto your tongue. spins you around so he can feel your smooth ass on his erection and watch as art kisses you. sloppy and desperate. hands all over your body as if to keep you there, in the moment, with them.

you feel bad. like maybe you should stop this. but you've never felt so fucking good. you grab art's hand and push it under your skirt so he can feel the wetness pooling in your panties.

it's too late to say sorry now. plus, art is yanking you by the wrist. throwing you over his shoulder to take you home, while patrick waves goodbye to the piece of shit in the corner, a cigarette between his lips.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Little Red Dress

Hancock x Fem! Reader | AO3

Summary: You're wearing a little red dress, one that teases and tantalizes Hancock. You're the Mayor of Goodneighbor's prized possession, and it does not bode well for you to tempt him so, especially in public.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ for KNIFE PLAY, Penis in Vagina Sex, Exhibitionism/Public Sex. Kissing, tit sucking, finger sucking, explicit language, PDA, and self-indulgent smut. Basically, I wanted to write something quick and dirty. >D

*Hancock is a little bit rough with you this time, but he would never hurt you.

Word count: 2.2k+

Notes: I've got it bad for Hancock. This is my second time writing for him! Sort of came out of nowhere. Ultimately, it could be interpreted as Hancock x female Sole. It's up to you to decide! Enjoy!

Hancock—he is decidedly more comfortable with public displays of affection than you would have imagined him to be, your throne expressly atop his lap, legs crossed for the sake of modesty in the presence of proper company. Your nights out are spent dolled up, clutched like a trophy by the Mayor of Goodneighbor—his prized possession over caps or chems—and what a lucky girl you are to be his favorite.

Hancock, with eager, explorative hands, hugging you from behind with his chin on your shoulder. His touch is firm, yet gentle, roving over every inch of your smooth skin left bare and assailable, the ghoul fondling your thighs, working higher, higher, skirting your lap to squeeze your waist with often unpredictable, gratifying tenderness.  

The man is anything but a mystery; you could read him like an open book if such things still existed, his lustful looks starting a fire between your legs that could just as soon be doused by how wet he can make you with a single glance, a single caress beneath the hem of your little red dress.

It drives him crazy, that dress, John desperate enough to pinch your ass in public—worse than that—whispering dirty little nothings in your ear, forcing you to suppress your giggling as the man himself pretends all is well, conversing with the good people of the Commonwealth.

It's a game. He doesn’t care—he’s into that sort of thing— not above making another man green with envy when it comes to you. Hancock has no trouble in reminding everyone just who you belong to, his favorite pastime sneaking you off to shadowy, secluded corners to fuck you with his eyes while withered fingers glide over tight curves and refined angles, just vague outlines in the dark, though his pupils glow like dwindling embers among black, charred logs, captivating you like a moth toward a flame.

“You wanna get out of here?” he asks in a gravelly, self-assured tone, pulling you close, diggin’ your scent, and he knows you sure as fuck taste damn delicious.

It’s been too long, like chems that wore off; he needs another fix, and he’s willing to take it where he can get it. In fact, railing you in the back room of the Third Rail ain’t soundin’ too shabby right about now—you’re wearin’ a dress, after all—just hike it up.

“No,” you whisper, egging him on, desiring to get a rise out of Hancock in more ways than one. It works, the man leering down at you from beneath the short brim of his tricornered hat. His eyes are glistening, shining like polished marbles, staring into the depths of your soul. It can’t be helped, John’s hard-on riding against your thigh without shame, causing your breath to hitch.  

“No?” he presses, his negation laced with arrogance and disbelief. A hidden blade whisks out from decadent, stained sleeves, teasing you with nothing more than a good time. The cool texture of sleek metal grazes your skin, skimming your pulse point. Hancock’s knife trails down the swell of a breast to take a dilatory, lackadaisical dive between your cleavage; it threatens to slice shimmering red fabric in twain.

“I’m going to fuck you either way, sunshine,” he rasps, skinny lips, still so kissable, hovering tantalizingly over your own.

The knife end of his blade drifts along your belly, an expert flick of the ghoul’s wrist twirling it to catch betwixt two dexterous fingers. The hilt disappears up under your skirt; he knows you’re not wearing panties, that bit of cold steel broaching your entrance, sliding into slick, taut confines to penetrate you with ease.

“I-I know,” you offer demurely, a tremor to your voice, Hancock sliding the hilt in and out with delicate, precise strokes. His weapon of choice is carefully wielded, knowing what damage he could cause. He leans in close to your ear, reveling in the awestruck expression you’re sporting; he would stop in a heartbeat should you wish him to, yet you make no move to protest, nor do you plan to.

“Did you take your Rad-X like a good girl?” he asks dissolutely; his breath is warm, the combat knife’s handle slipping out once more to brush against your clit on its way up. The action causes you to dip forward even as you try to keep yourself steady, hands flat to the wall as he holds you in place.  

“Yes,” you answer bravely, your tongue moving to kiss your lover with all the passion currently welling up inside your chest; he skirts your attempt, his forefinger pinning your tongue, slithering its way past lips and teeth to delve into the moist cavity of your mouth.

“Of course you did,” he replies, sliding that digit in and out as you hold on, cheeks hollowing to the concave depths of a ghoul’s. You suck his index like it’s his cock; Hancock watches every nuanced movement with a tilt of his head, eventually pinching your cheeks closed with his thumb and middle, pulling his finger loose with a rousing pop.

“I’d say you’re good and ready,” he comments silkily, voice darkening as he holds the knife aloft for your inspection. It’s saturated in your own excess, Hancock licking the handle clean with the flat of his tongue. You watch, enthralled, though you’re sure you’re not the only one seeing this event unfold—the people of Goodneighbor talk—you’re not above being a source of gossip.

“Come on, sister,”  he coaxes, pallid fingers curling around the shoulder strap of your gown to tug you forward, still withholding that kiss you so sorely crave.

He drags you by this single strip of fabric, avoiding all other eyes but yours; you see people nudging, whispering, sharing glances, but it only adds fuel to the fire, Hancock ushering you to a lesser used area of the bar.

“But, Hancock, there’s peo—” you begin, the ghoul concealing his knife once more for later use, perhaps, clicking his tongue disrespectfully as he interrupts you mid-sentence.

“—Let ‘em watch,” the mayor of this seedy settlement snaps, escorting you past its nosy denizens to the farthest room, splaying his open palm across the small of your back as he gently drives you forward, directing you toward one particular chair in the process.

“Don’t play coy with me…” he grates, positioning you before a plush red high-back that rests against worn, chipped tile. He prods you with his skinny ribs, prompting you to rest your knee against its seat. You oblige, taking hold of sturdy wood to balance yourself as you feel a sudden draft—Hancock wastes no time in slinking your dress up past the round shape of your ass.

You feel like a cheap whore while at the same time exhilarated beyond measure, bending forward for a more pleasing angle as you glance over your shoulder at the ghoul whose cock is withdrawn, John trailing his mushroom tip along the moist line of your slit.

“But I can’t kiss you like this,” you beg, faced with rock and not Hancock, his idle hand slipping up the front of your risqué little number for his thumb to part pillowy lips, nestling its way in.

“Good girls know patience,” he slyly replies, rubbing soft circles against your already swollen clit. An indecent moan accompanies the insertion of his cock into your tepid core, Hancock beginning to roll forward, thrusting his hips against the meat of your ass as he fucks your pretty cunt from behind.

“Just admit you planned for this,” he hisses, one hand still working you as the other squeezes the fullness of a breast. You are hardly able to contain an audible expression of lust, breaths deep and slow as you attempt to curtail your mounting orgasm.

“You can’t resist me,” you brazenly claim, causing the man to rail against you harder, faster, the small flare of his temper only serving to please you; two fingers tweak a raised nipple as a form of punishment.

“Ought to make you suck me off instead; shut that smart mouth of yours,” he whispers bitingly, though he doesn’t mean a word. His favorite place is buried between your loins, so glossy and warm, like an inviting hug—one he wishes would never end.

“Do it,” you bait, although thoroughly enjoying yourself, John’s ribbed flesh hitting just the right spot, only to be ripped away just as suddenly. He slides out and whirls you around abruptly, causing a momentary sensation of vertigo, afraid you might lose your balance, though his grip is strong and secure.

You’re met with piercing black pupils amidst a sea of the deepest crimson, rivaling the color of dried blood. The mayor is testing you; you don’t back down, holding his gaze with the same intense, quiet ferocity.

“I have a better idea.” A shuffle down below, and he hoists you up with the use of with both sinewy arms, kicking that damned chair out of his way as he slams you back against the wall. You tighten your legs about him with his aid, enclosing his slim waist to lock him in; the ghoul fumbles to reinsert his aching prick inside you before you have time to say another word.

His tongue is in your mouth only briefly; you moan around it, muscles contracting and roiling like the waves of a once vast, unpolluted ocean as he plows you like there’s no tomorrow—and there very well may not be.

His hands are grasping, clawing, hungry, desiring to touch every part of you at the same time, though impossible— it is an infuriating truth he condemns. Hancock’s dick hounds your G-spot; you are no longer able to withhold the lewd noises you wish to make, the ghoul rudely clamping a palm over your mouth to temporarily deaden all sound.

“You’re lucky I don’t just rip this off you,” he grumbles, sucking the salt off your skin, buried in your throat for the purpose—he’s referring to that damnable dress that gets his irradiated blood pumping like nothing else. You manage a smile once he dislodges his hand, cloyingly sweet and meant as mockery, squeezing your thighs tighter to draw him in close.

Your own hands find the flesh of his belly, groping and molesting scar tissue and lean muscle, your pelvic floor flexing unfairly around him. You almost laugh at the visceral reaction that follows, Hancock having bitten down on his own ruined lip.

“You wouldn’t dare,” you insist, knowing just how much John loves you in that dress, loves how good you look in it, your actions pulling a moan from your lover that is like the most heavenly music to your ears.

“Wouldn’t I?” he asks defiantly, a series of quick movements causing you to gasp as he rips clean through the right strap; that pesky blade had reemerged to do his dirty work.

“Hancock!” you protest. The ghoul’s not listening, having loosed your tit for anyone who dare try and interrupt you; John kneads its doughy flesh in the crook of his palm.

“What’s that, sunshine?” he asks derisively, jerking his hips, his neck craning downward as he lifts your breast toward his mouth. He sucks your hardened nipple while pinching the other that has inevitably joined its twin, the single strap left intact not enough to hold it up, or in.

The bastard knows all your erogenous zones, this being but one of them, his patient suckling and the steady pump of his prick sending you over the edge.

You cum, coating his dick in your secretions, this time the ghoul allowing your voice to soar—it’s a pretty song, one he likes to listen to on repeat, and for the moment you don’t care who hears you.

“That’s my girl,” Hancock purrs, having released your breast from his puckered lips to watch the gesticulations of your face mid-throe. Your pleasurable spasming only causes his girth to convulse inside you, filling you full up with his infertile sperm.

Truth be told, it’s one of the benefits, being with a ghoul—no risk of an unwanted pregnancy at the end of the World. Only now, you are left half naked in the middle of a public space, Hancock’s ejaculate beginning to run down your leg.

Like coming down off a spectacular high, Hancock pulls out, stuffs his junk back in his pants, and looks you over.

“What a mess I’ve made,” he teases. You frown outright, though he thinks it’s cute, like you’re pouting or being petulant like a spoiled child—it’s one of the things that tugs on his heartstrings, though you never intend to abuse it.  

“What am I supposed to do now?” you whine, “I can’t go out there like—”

“—Hey, here,” Hancock proffers, taking a moment to remove his red frock coat. He gently shifts to stand behind you and slips it over your bare shoulders, assisting in the lift of your arms until you are comfortably sequestered in its warmth.

It fits, covering your naughty bits well enough that you will be able to make it back home to the State House. Hancock seems unable to help himself, a smirk tugging impishly at the corner of his mouth.

“What?” you ask with a hint of attitude, pushing lightly against his chest with the palm of your hand. It’s as if he has a secret not worth keeping, his expression devolving into something a bit more playful.

“Looks good on you,” he affirms, taking up that offending hand to kiss. “But maybe next time you’ll listen to your mayor.”

[honey-on-your-tongue]

human!reader calling jake daddy everywhere😫😳

JAKE IS JUST SO DADDY OMFGGG

---

“Daddy.”

The first time you said it, Jake paused. You called him Daddy. And the things that did to him.

He hadn't slept that first night, his hand fisted around his thick cock as he replayed the way you'd said that word over and over again. He groaned at the mere thought of what you'd look like riding his cock, your pretty eyes wet with tears of pleasure, the word Daddy leaving you in moans as he fucked you dumb...

He'd encouraged you to use the nickname. So now you do just that. All. The. Time.

“Daddy,” you say as Jake walks around the lab, playing with a few of the chem kits, “pass me that jar.”

You motion to a jar full of some kind of plant and he grabs it. He walks to you, holding the item out to you. But just as you're about to reach for it, he raises it above your head. Way above.

You pout a little, giving him a look. “Daddy,” you whine in complaint. “I need the samples.”

“You didn't say please, baby,” he teases, grinning as his hand trails down your spine. “Ask nicely.”

“Please, give me the jar,” you say, staring up at him.

He grins, leaning towards you. He kisses your forehead softly, your scent invading his senses. He hands you the jar, his heart fluttering as you smile softly.

While you turn to your work, he moves to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Daddy,” you say softly, giggling as you lean back into his embrace.

It's a sweet moment at first. But it's quick to transform.

Jake is obsessed with you. With how much smaller you are, how strong he is compared to you. How you're everything that reminds him of Earth while also being part of his new life. The sensation of you in his arms, this pretty little thing he can toss around so easily, always turns him on.

He thinks about grabbing you and just bending you over the lab table you're working on, but he knows your research is important to you.

So, he asks, “Does this need to be timed?”

“What? This?” You hold up the vial where you're measuring one component or another.

“Yeah,” he says, kissing your cheek gently.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“Because...,” he whispers, moving a little so his hardening cock presses against your back. Your breath hitches, he hears it.

He can't wait to hear you cry out his name.

His hands move down to your hips, gently massaging your delicate skin. “Is that a yes, baby?” he asks lowly.

You turn around to face him, those big doe eyes so fucking pretty...

You nod. “Yes, Daddy.”

You—sweet, young, tiny little thing—are giving him permission to do whatever he wants to you. And he won't waste the opportunity.

He grins. “That's my good babygirl.”

-----

I think I kinda got off-track??? This was supposed to be a daddy fic and ended up being something else 😭😭

---

Blog masterlist

---

Taglist:

@kamcrazy123 @yagirlheree @sweetllamaparadise @neytirishottie @crazy4books1 @letsloveimagines @eyweveng

*if you want me to add you to any of my taglists, lmk through inbox, message me or leave a comment!

[lily-fics-11]

I Can See You: Chapter 6 (Ellie Williams, TLOU)

I Can See You

Fic master post here

Also, I kinda cosplayed Ellie if you want to check it out

*Not beta read

Ellie Williams is a player, on and off the lacrosse field. You begin tutoring her so that she can get her grades up and stay on the team. You try to keep things professional, however, your affection is a great motivator. Ellie wouldn't be caught dead with you so you become her secret mission. 

Chapter 6

Your friends are trying to figure out who your mystery girl is while you and Ellie grow closer than ever. Turns out the back of the library isn’t as private as you thought it was…

Word count: 4.4k

CW: *Ellie and reader are both 18*, profanities, sexual innuendo/references, profanities

“I need your help with something,” Ellie informs you after giving you a kiss and plopping down at your usual table in the library. 

“Is it Chem? Your test is on Wednesday, right?”

“Yes, actually, it is. But that’s not what I meant. It’s not school related.”

You are surprised, but try not to show it. You are more than happy to help her with anything she needs, though you haven't gotten past the homework and Dunkin Donuts coffee phase yet. “What is it, El?”

Ellie takes a deep breath and blurts out “I really need you to come to my lacrosse game tomorrow.” 

“Ellie I want to, I really do. But I don’t know how I’m going to pull that off. My friends are going to see my location at a random lacrosse field and think I got kidnapped. If I turn it off they will think I got kidnapped. I guess I could just leave my phone at home…” you trail off, racking your brains for an answer. 

Ellie cracks a smile. “This game is at North. You told your friends you are seeing a girl who goes to North. Why can’t she be a lacrosse player?”

Your face lights up. “Ellie, you are brilliant!”

“Yeah, I am,” she responds, a smug grin on her face. 

You throw your arms around Ellie and give her a kiss. “I’m excited to watch you play live, instead of on some grainy live stream.”

“I do look way better in person. The camera doesn’t really capture how good my ass looks in those shorts.” Unserious Ellie is ridiculously endearing. 

You laugh, still holding on to her, unwilling to let go yet. Ellie starts to kiss your neck and the pace of your breathing picks up. She keeps nipping at your neck, leaving you humming with satisfaction. 

Out of nowhere, you hear voices, very close by. You are both startled, having been lost in the heat of the moment. Quickly separating from each other, you and Ellie try to act natural. 

Two boys walk past and start scanning the book shelf to your left. You turn to look and Ellie’s eyes widen. 

“Turn the other way,” Ellie says under her breath. 

You look back at her in confusion.

“Your neck,” she whispers.

Ellie had been kissing your neck moments earlier, she must have left some evidence behind. 

“Fuck!” You hiss and whip your head in the other direction. You fiddle with the hood of your sweatshirt so that it’s covering the spot that is missing Ellie’s warm lips. 

Neither of you even had any work out, it looks like you are just hanging out in the library. Which wouldn’t usually matter, but the two of you don’t want to be seen together yet. 

Thankfully, the two boys are most likely freshmen, who probably don’t care about girls' lacrosse. They probably don’t know who Ellie is and there isn’t any reason someone would recognize you when you don’t recognize them. That’s a bit of a relief. 

The boys don’t take too long and you can finally stop holding your breath.

“Those were freshmen, right? They wouldn’t know who we are?” Ellie asks, the tone of her voice quite grave. 

You reassure Ellie, but also yourself. “I doubt they know who we are. We should be fine.” 

“Okay good.” Ellie takes your hand and rubs her thumb over your palm. 

“I don’t know that this is a good spot anymore,” you mumble.

She puts her hands in her pocket with pain in her eyes. “I can’t believe it. No one comes in here after school, especially not this section.”

“Not for books,” you correct her.

Ellie’s freckled nose scrunches up. “What does that mean?”

“You’ve never hooked up in the library?” You question, having assumed that someone with Ellie’s track record had done it before. 

Her jaw drops and her green eyes are horror struck. “Why would I? Have… have you?!?”

“Uh yeah…” you scratch the back of your neck. 

“Who did you… never mind. I don’t want to know. Just for the record, I prefer the back of the locker room,” Ellie huffs. She seems to be displeased thinking about you hooking up with another girl. “But the library suits you better.” The two of you start laughing, too amused by your own stereotypes to stay jealous. 

You bow your head formally. “Why thank you, ma’am.” When you look back up at her it’s time to be serious. “We can stay here today, but we have to figure out a different spot for Thursday.”

“We need somewhere private,” Ellie agrees. 

“I have access to the chem lab for tutoring, my ID can get us in.”

“You tutor someone else in chem?!?” Ellie crosses her arms with an enormous amount of sass. 

“Ellie we’ve been over this,” you remind her.

“We have. That doesn’t mean I feel any less betrayed.”

You put a hand on her thigh under the table, if someone were to walk in they wouldn’t be able to see. “You are my favorite person I’ve ever tutored.”

“I better be. And just so you know, since my test is on Wednesday, I won’t have much work to do on Thursday. I don’t know how I’m going to keep myself occupied in a locked classroom with you,” Ellie smirks. 

You smile and shake your head. “That’s a tough one, El. What are you going to do?”

“I’ve got some ideas. But I need to study so you are going to have to wait until then to find out.” 

You continue to avoid PDA the rest of your time in the library, already anxious for the next time you can see each other, before you have even parted ways. 

You sent a selfie in the Snapchat group chat later that night using a filter that tells you which character you are from a show that you and all your friends watch. You hadn’t thought anything of it until you were being bombarded with questions about the hickeys on your neck. 

“They are from the girl that goes to North,” you lie and ignore their questions for the rest of the night. 

The next day at lunch you hear whispers about Ellie Williams in the library after school. She was seen with a girl who, believe it or not, has your hair color and skin tone. That’s crazy. 

Those damn freshmen. 

You: Good luck today!!😘💕

Space Nerd🚀🤓: Having you there is all the luck I need💚🍀

You get to Ellie’s game while the teams are still warming up. Ellie routinely looks at the bleachers as you walk around to the visitors side, searching for you, and a big smile grows on her face when she finally spots you.

The lacrosse spectators look somewhat familiar now that you’ve been to a few games. Joel is amongst them, talking to some of the other dads. It’s impossible to hear what he’s saying from this far away, but you can tell how proud he is of Ellie as he points down at her on the field. 

You watch Joel for a moment. It warms your heart to see someone care so much about Ellie. She’s so special and he cares so much, they way she deserves to be cared about. 

Joel happens to glance in your direction and makes eye contact with you. He gives you a knowing smile and you blush. Joel probably knows you are Ellie’s tutor?

But why would Joel know what Ellie’s tutor looks like? You were in the school paper recently, a picture and blurb about you and the 3 other seniors going to Ivy League Colleges. You are going to Brown.

This recognition leaves you flustered nonetheless. Another person knowing that you are connected to Ellie is overwhelming, though just as thrilling. Although it’s for the best, you don’t always love being a secret. It’s hard not to wish things were easier. 

After shaking off the self conscious feeling that had taken over you, the incessant buzzing of your phone blowing up can no longer be ignored. 

Nicole sent a screenshot of your location in the group chat. You should have expected this, she asked you to hang out and you told her you were busy and didn’t give an explanation. 

Melisssssssa🎤🙈💓: She’s at North👀

Caroline🦋🩵🍭: At the North LACROSSE FIELD👀🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

Tee-rees-ah💟🎨🐞: Slay pussy boss queen👏🏼

Caroline🦋🩵🍭: Go get your woman!!!!!

NICOLE MY MAIN BITCH👯‍♀️💅👛💓: You do love an athlete

Melisssssssa🎤🙈💓: Jackie’s JV game is right after if you want to stay and watch!!

Caroline🦋🩵🍭: You should break up with her if she doesn’t win 

But that’s just my opinion 

NICOLE MY MAIN BITCH👯‍♀️💅👛💓: Why didn’t you invite us???? 

Do we embarrass you ma’am??  

Tee-rees-ah💟🎨🐞: Yeah we want to watch to

Melisssssssa🎤🙈💓: We want to meet her

NICOLE MY MAIN BITCH👯‍♀️💅👛💓: What is her name 

Melisssssssa🎤🙈💓: What does she look like

Tee-rees-ah💟🎨🐞: What’s her home address

NICOLE MY MAIN BITCH👯‍♀️💅👛💓: What’s her social security number 

Caroline🦋🩵🍭: BRB I’m going to stalk your Instagram following list  

You follow 3 North girls that have something gay in their bio which one is it

NICOLE MY MAIN BITCH👯‍♀️💅👛💓: I’m looking too

 None of them say they play lax:/

Melisssssssa🎤🙈💓: I think it’s the one with 🩷🧡

Tee-rees-ah💟🎨🐞: No it’s gotta be the one committed to UCONN

Caroline🦋🩵🍭: Y’all are wrong it’s gym mirror pic girl 

You: She doesn’t have an Instagram 

NICOLE MY MAIN BITCH👯‍♀️💅👛💓: WTF

Caroline🦋🩵🍭: 🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩

Tee-rees-ah💟🎨🐞: 😡😡😡😡😡😡 

Melisssssssa🎤🙈💓: We will find her 

Caroline🦋🩵🍭: Looking at the roster now 

The group chat continues to pop off, all theories about who the mystery girl is. You ignore them because the game is starting. 

Ellie is so graceful, yet domineering on the field. The way she plays it is effortless, but also so intentional. Ellie is swift and graceful, poised and confident. She looks at you every time she scores a goal.

You don’t outwardly cheer, just clap when you are supposed to. It’s painful for you not to yell Ellie’s name and jump up and down when she does something good. Unfortunately, you are ‘here for a girl from North’. You doubt anyone is paying any attention, or cares for that matter. However, you are still on a secret mission. 

At one point in the game there is a collision, a defender from your school has to be helped off the field. You can’t tell what was wrong, probably her leg, though not being able to walk on her own could mean a concussion or something. You will have to ask Ellie later and check and see if the girl is ok.  

North played a good game, but not good enough. They weren't as fast or strategic. Between Ellie and Abby, North never stood a chance. 

When the game is over you slip right out. It’s not like you can talk to Ellie anyway, plus you’ve got an essay to revise. 

You: YOU DID GREAT TODAY

KILLED IT

BEST LACROSSE PLAYER I KNOW

A SUPERSTAR

Space Nerd🚀🤓: Thank you for coming:)

It really means so much to me💚

You: I love watching you play💕

Space Nerd🚀🤓: I have to take the bus back to school but can I call you when I’m driving home?

You: Looking forward to it:)

You answer the phone when Ellie calls, proud of her performance out on the field today. “My superstar! Fresh off another win!”

“Well I did have my lucky charm there,” she tried to remind you, deflect from herself. 

“Shhhhhhhh. That was all you, babe,” you assure her, truly meaning it. She doesn’t need any luck. 

“Babe?” Ellie questions and you are unable to gauge her reaction to the use of the pet name from her tone. You wish you could see her facial expression and read her body language right now. 

Fuck. Fuck! FUCK! You really did mess this up, didn’t you. Nice job, valiant effort. But you really screwed up. Goodbye short fling that has changed your life, you will be greatly missed. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I…” you stutter, fearing you’ve made a grave mistake.

Ellie cuts you off. “I didn’t mean it that way. Not at all. I like it. A lot.” She doesn’t sound as confident as usual, more bashful. 

You are still nervous. This thing between the two of you? You aren’t quite sure that you will ever get used to it. It may never make sense. “So… it’s okay if I call you babe?”

“Yeah,” she responds immediately, making it sound as if it’s something you should have already known. “As long as it’s okay if I call you babe.”

“I think I can make that deal,” you laugh. 

“So what’s up babe?” Ellie asks, giggling. 

“Currently taking an intermission from essay revision.”

“That sounds riveting.” Effortlessly sarcastic, poking fun at you. That excites you, joking around with each other, the playful banter. 

“Hey I was wondering, what happened to that girl that got hurt? The defender that crashed into that tall girl while she was trying to score a goal. Is she okay? She looked like she could hardly walk.”

“Oh fuck! That happened, didn’t it. She dislocated her knee. Knee cap was totally in the wrong spot. Looked like a broken joystick. Super gross. It’s the 3rd time she’s done it so she has to get surgery. She’s out for the season now. At least she is a junior and not a senior.”

“Damn. That really sucks, I feel so bad for her.” You can’t imagine being taken away from something you’ve put so much work into. 

“Same. She’s our best defender too. And she’s the second one to get hurt this season. Now coach has to pull a player up from JV.”

“Hopefully that helps.”

“There is a freshman, actually, who is really good. Coach didn’t pull her up at the beginning of the season because we didn’t need another defender then. Her name is Jackie I think.”

“Jackie Laurent?”

“Yeah. You know her?”

“Jackie is Melissa’s younger sister,” Ellie is silent. “You probably have no idea who that is, do you. Caroline is one of my best friends. I’ve known Jackie since she was a toddler!” You are so proud of her. She’s been on the lacrosse grind for probably 10 years. Always up before everyone else when you slept over so she could go for a run. 

“Well maybe you will have an excuse to come to away games now,” Ellie proposes, her voice higher up in pitch than normal because she is so exhilarated. 

“Shit, you’re right! I’ll make it work,” you promise.

“You don’t even know how happy that makes me, babe.”

“Me too!”

You are both quiet for a moment, just so happy that you have to take a second to appreciate it. You can tell how wired Ellie is, you hear her drumming her hands on the steering wheel. 

“Joel says hi by the way, he saw you at the game,” Ellie informs you. 

That makes you gasp out loud. “Hi?… He said… how does he even know who I am?!?

“Well, I’m not usually so attached to my phone, he started asking questions. I ended up telling him about you. How you are nice, and smart, and beautiful, and amazing. Then he saw that Ivy League article in the school paper,” Ellie explains. “He was impressed. But not as much as he was surprised. Thinks you are out of my league. You know you’re the first girl I’ve ever bothered to tell him anything about?”

“Really?” It’s hard to believe you stand out from the rest, were more worth the conversation. 

“I’ve never really done the relationship thing before,” Ellie admits.

You knew that, knew her reputation, heard all the rumors. “But you could have, every girl at our school loves you.”

Ellie clears her throat. “They love that I’m popular and good in bed. No girl has ever cared to get to know me. They just wanted to say that they did. Casual… it wasn’t what I wanted. What I wanted was to feel wanted.”

You feel your heart breaking. “They all missed out. Big time. I’m so happy I’ve gotten to know you, I’m lucky to have had the opportunity. I care so, so much about you. You are incredibly special, Ellie.”

“You really think so?” Her voice is soft and shy. 

“I know you are. I’ve never met a girl like you before. And I mean that in the best way possible. Being assigned as your tutor is one of the best things that has ever happened to me.”

“Me too. And not just because you saved my grades. You saved me from feeling like I wasn’t good enough.” Her voice cracked on the word ‘good’.

“Ellie…” your chest hurts. You try to find the right words to comfort her but she keeps talking before you manage to string a sentence together. 

“I really mean that. I didn’t think I was worth more than a hookup or being something to show off. That I couldn’t offer anything that wasn’t just physical. But you want me, even though no one knows that you have me. You helped me see what I’ve had inside of me all along.”

You take a sharp breath, trying to keep yourself from getting too emotional. “You are so important to me. You always will be.”

“I don’t think you understand the impact you’ve made on my life.” A subdued confession from Ellie, who is seemingly nervous to reveal this to you. 

“I don’t think you understand the impact you’ve made on my life,” you emphasize, you want Ellie to know how much you value her. 

Ellie pauses for a moment. You aren’t used to her being so quiet, you’re unsure of whether or not you should be nervous. 

“That’s enough being sappy for today,” she sighs. “I’d rather look you in the eyes when I tell you this type of stuff.”

“That’s so sweet,” you like this emotional and vulnerable side of Ellie, getting to see deeper inside of her. 

“So is your face.” Ellie really is slick, isn’t she. Always got a line to pull out of her pocket. 

“Your freckles are sweet and cute,” you point out. 

“Well now I have a bruise on my face from today’s game,” Ellie grumbles. 

How dare someone go anywhere near such a precious beautiful face with such aggression? 

“What?” You practically yell into the phone. “Who did that? I’m going to find them and give them a piece of my mind!” You hear a little “hehe” from Ellie and you don’t appreciate her lack of respect for how much you like looking at her face. 

“Babe,” her voice is soothing to help bring you back down a notch. “We won, isn’t that what really matters?”

You let out a disappointed huff. “I guess.”

Ellie laughs. “Let me handle all the fist fights, okay?”

“No! I’m begging you please don’t get into a fist fight.”

“Begging?” Her voice is lower and more intense than usual. It’s hot. But you do need to get your point across. 

“Ellie please!”

“That’s exactly what I like to hear.” She’s doing her best to try and seduce you. It’s working for sure, but you can’t have her going around fighting people.

Your mouth curved into a frown, trying to think of the best way to get her to listen to you. “I know how to get through to you,” you tell her after a brief pause to collect your thoughts. “Don’t get rough with anyone but me.”

Ellie makes a sound that is almost like a moan. “Well when you put it that way…”

“No more fights?” You question with urgency. She doesn’t need any trouble or injuries. 

“I won’t start any fights,” she promises.

“Always throw the last punch, but never the first.”

Ellie chuckles. “I think you and Joel will get along.”

“I hope so.” You bite your lip. You know how important he is to Ellie, the thought of him not liking you makes you feel sick to your stomach. 

“He’s met other girls… in passing, and let’s just say no one’s ever… made a good impression. Or that he was fond of my, uh, behaviors,” she explains sheepishly. 

You tease her. “I’ve made an honest woman out of you.”

“You really have. I think you are the answer to Joel’s prayers.”

“Truly an angel sent from above,” you joke. 

“Sure look like one.” This girl really is smooth. 

“Why don’t you tell me more about Joel.”

Ellie starts to talk about Joel, her admiration for him present in her tone. She explains that he will be quiet at first. Probably get to know you before he lets you get to know him. He can get along with anyone, he’s a great guy, but he likes his time to himself. Values peace and quiet. She doesn’t explain the history of their relationship. Just that they've been through a lot together, and that she’s going to miss him a lot when she leaves for college. 

You realize you hadn't talked about this yet with her. “Where are you going to college?”

“Boston.”

“Boston College??” You question, that makes the most sense, but also not a lot. 

“Yeah,” Ellie tells you proudly. 

“How did you…” you trail off. You don’t want to offend her, but Boston College is not easy to get into. 

She chuckles. “Get in? Well my grades weren’t always so bad. Not until after I got into college and started fucking around full time. I was a solid B student before that. Don’t get me wrong, my grades weren’t good enough, but my coach is an alumni and had some pull.”

Lacrosse, that checks out. You know Ellie has academic potential, but Boston College has such a low acceptance rate. “So they are good at lacrosse?”

“Last year's national champions,” she states matter of factly, proud of herself. As she should be! 

“Shit. You really are good at lacrosse, aren’t you? I knew you were good, but I had no measure for comparison. It’s like trying to understand the force of an object on another planet. A completely different gravitational constant!”

“I know exactly what you mean babe,” Ellie snickers, and you silently scold yourself for nerding out on her. “When I heard you were going to Brown, I did some research. About an hour drive between us. I didn’t want to say anything right away though and be weird.”

That kills your good mood. Not the research, thinking about the reality of what will happen to the two of you when you leave for college. There isn’t even a label on your relationship yet. You probably won’t even make it to senior prom together because you are keeping things a secret. “You are going to be playing on a D1, nationally ranked team, with girls throwing themselves at you. You’ll forget all about your high school tutor.” Sad, but true. 

“You aren’t just my tutor! You are so much more than that. And even if you were, you are the hottest tutor on the planet. You’ll pull as a tutor, no doubt. But I bet you are going to be a teacher's assistant too, and have entire college lectures full of women in STEM falling for you.” Ellie sounds almost a little… panicked? She’s jealous? Does she really care that much? Is there hope for the two of you?

The overexaggerated implication is very amusing to you. Her jealousy has you feeling a little lighter, it reminded you how much she cares.  “So we both have some competition,” you joke. 

“I will be visiting Brown, and fending those smart girls off with my lacrosse stick if I have to.” There isn't a hint of sarcasm in Ellie’s voice. You can picture it now, her threatening some Ivy League engineering student in her full lacrosse get up. 

“I’ll have some heavy textbooks to bring to your games,” you tell her as seriously as you can, but you can’t say it all without giggling. 

“You are stuck with me now. No other girl is catching my attention. You are my girl. I only want you.” Ellie’s voice is stern, the way a life guard tells you not to dive in the shallow end. Like it’s about safety… maybe it’s about security. 

Your heart flutters, hearing Ellie vocalize her dedication to you. That requires a deep breath to try and settle your racing pulse.  “Good, because I don’t back down from things so easily. Would have been really annoying for you.”

“I much prefer you to go down than back down.” There’s that unserious charm you know and love. 

“I’m sure you would. I’ll make note of that,” you promise her. 

“There will be a test.”

“Well the only straight thing about me is my As.”

“You are starting to sound like me,” Ellie points out mischievously. “But I just pulled onto my street, so I’ll say goodbye now, and text you later?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Talk to you later, babe.”

“Bye, babe!”

When you park your car the next morning you have a text from Ellie. “Don’t go into homeroom right away.”

Your locker isn’t far from the room so you wait there, you know she knows where it is. The locker door is left ajar, to make it seem like there’s a purpose for standing there. No sign of her anywhere. The bell rings and you hope she’s close by, you don’t want to be too late. 

The last of the students that had been milling around start going to their respective home rooms. Then you spot her.

Auburn hair, half up half down. Beat up converse. Ripped jeans. A black t-shirt under a black and gray flannel. Ellie is waiting down the hall from you, looking smug. She waves at you and you are surprised, you aren’t totally alone, but wave right back. Ellie doesn’t move towards you though. She just watches, like she’s expecting you to leave right away. 

But you know what? Fuck it.

You shut your locker and strut towards her. Shoulders back, chin in the air. There’s only two other people in the hallway at this point. As you approach her, she looks very surprised, but just as happy. When you are right in front of her you look and see the two other student’s backs are to you. You give her a kiss, turn around, and go to your homeroom. 

Tags: @bready101, @st4r-b3rries, @tlou-bombshell, @stvrs13, @dinanellie, @everegretseverything, @mikellie, @lamolaine, @0pheli4, @soupycloud, @radioheadfan699, @callmelola111, @hysteriawillnotsuccumb, @normalthing111, @3isosoup, @lmaoo-spiderman, @cqliflower, @ellstronaut

(I most of these aren't even tagging, if you are tagged and it's not working lmk, I can try and fix it!!! I also think some people have changed usernames so if you have, I can replace it!!

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (02)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: Teen (series will be explicit) Words: 1300 Summary: Up a tree of sorts

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

“Well, at least you’re not an idiot.”

The Ghoul stares up at the radio tower, pushing his hat back so he can get a better view. The figure was about twenty feet off the ground, wedged between two pieces of scaffolding to keep them from falling down. It was exposed, but probably still the safest place for miles.

He had considered following the trail ol’ half-ear had mentioned - but it hadn’t taken a professor to see that half the bounty hunters in the area were on that particular hunt. Instead he’d asked around, dropping in on a few homesteaders and wooing them with his slightly rotten charm. It had worked better when he still had his nose and a head of hair but what his face couldn’t accomplish his shooters did just fine.

It had taken days before someone thought they might have seen her - recognizing the hair and the odd sight of a woman traveling alone. From there he’d found the trail easily. She’d tried to hide it but the ground in these parts was not amenable to her efforts.

He scans the horizon, fixing up his inhaler with practiced motions that took less thought than blinking. He holds his breath a moment, feeling the chem work its way into his system, relieving the aches and shadows, before letting it out in a whoosh. They weren’t lasting as long as they used to. Once upon a time he was able to go a week or more between hits, provided he didn’t get himself injured. But now he was lucky to only dose once a day before he felt himself start to slip away.

He was falling apart. Two hundred odd years would do that to a body.

Nothing catches his eye, certainly nothing to make him think whoever was up there had been chased up that tower rather than climbed it, so he turns back to study them. In the moonlight he can see what looks like a mile of bare leg. Interesting.

Grunting, he lowers himself to the ground and leans his back to the metal beam. They would have to come down at some point and he’s content to wait them out. Odds were even they were who he was looking for and if not, they might have information for him. He considers calling up but that risks startling them into an abrupt meeting with the ground. Not good if it was his quarry.

Instead he takes his pistol apart to pass the time, cleaning the barrel and fiddling with the hammer. It had been getting stuck lately, ever since he got that guy’s brains in the cylinder.

He whistles as he works, enjoying the desert breeze and watching the sky lighten from black to purple. It would be a minute more before dawn actually broke. 

It was another hour before they woke, a soft moan he barely catches making him bend his head back. They were stretching, one leg locked tight around the beam and he gambles on calling out.

“Planning on coming down anytime soon?”

A squeak, the clanging of metal, and for a moment he fears they might fall on his head. Sighing, he rolls to his feet and moves so the sun is at his back. The figure flails for a moment before leaning out to look down at him.

Yeah, that’s her.

“How long have you been there?”

“A spell,” he hedges. “You coming down?”

“Hadn’t decided.”

His lips twitch and he shrugs, making a point of looking around. “Anything interesting up there?”

She snorts. “Tetanus.”

He can’t help a snort of laughter. The sun is in her eyes and he can tell she’s having trouble seeing him, squinting down his direction. But the soft morning light only highlights what the reward poster had shown.

She’s fucking beautiful.

“Ah shit,” he muttered to himself.

Battered, broken, run down people were a hell of a lot easier to work with. They knew the rules, knew it wasn’t worth the fight. But prissy little princesses? They never quite understood that they weren’t going to get their way. Or that their luck might have turned. He’d broken more than one bone dragging them back to whatever shithole they’d crawled away from.

Alive and unharmed.

If she can heal from it, it weren’t really harm now was it?

Just as he was contemplating how best to hogtie her and drag her back to the Stateline she shifts her position, swinging her legs over and peering down at him with a curious expression.

He adjusts his hat. Best not to let her see all of him before she has both feet safely on the ground. Was the damn girl wearing a dress?

“What are you doing out here?”

“Looking,” he answers truthfully.

“Just looking?” she responds with a small smile. “For what?”

“I’ll know it when I find it.”

Her laughter was pure, not a hint of condescension. God how long had it been since he’d heard someone laugh like that?

“You gonna rob me?”

What kind of naïve…? He huffs a breath, shaking his head slightly. If she was fool enough to ask the question she was probably fool enough to believe his answer.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“If I come down are you going to attack me?”

“Wasn’t planning on that either.”

A small hesitation. “You’ll let me know if your plans change?”

He does smile that time, shoulders shaking for a moment. “You’ll be the first to know.”

“Okay.”

He tries not to let his surprise show on his face. He might have to revise his earlier assessment that she wasn’t an idiot if a simple lie like that could bring her down.

A pack hits the ground to his left, a soft jingling telling him there are more than a few caps in it. He cranes his neck back, watching as she stretches her feet out to find purchase, her skirt hitching up to interesting heights.“You alright?”

“I’m good!” she calls back. “I used to climb a lot when I was a kid. That was a while ago but it’s probably like riding a bike.”

“You learned to ride a bike?” he asks with a skeptical frown.

“Nope!”

She slips on the last bit, her shoe scraping uselessly against the metal for a moment before her fingers fail her. The words on the poster flash through his head and he darts forward to catch her, arms wrapping around her waist and taking a stumbling step backwards to steady them.

“Oof,” she grunts, hands coming up to clasp his. Fingers slip under the edge of his sleeve, brushing against the skin of his wrist.

He can’t remember the last time someone had touched his bare skin.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” she chirps at him, turning but making no effort to move away. This close he can see the flecks of color in her eyes, feel the warmth of her breath on his neck. She’s smiling at him, seemingly unphased by his visage. The absolute polar opposite of the smooth curves of her own. She’s wearing a summer dress, the kind he hasn’t seen the like of in centuries. Blue and white with thin little straps and a bow tied right between a pair of perky tits.

Who the fuck is she?

“Coulda broke your neck,” he chides, also making no move to step away.

She shrugs, her smile turning into a wide grin. “I knew you’d catch me.”

If he still had an eyebrow it would have shot up. “Did you now?”

“Yeah,” she moves, finally, bending to scoop up her pack. He doesn’t bother not noticing her ass. “You have kind eyes.”

She isn’t looking at him, doesn’t see how the words hit him like a gut punch.

“I’m heading this way,” she points off to the north, turning back and barely missing his dumbstruck look. “You wanna come along?”

His mouth is moving before he even considers his answer, “Sure.”

☢ ☢ ☢

For updates follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

[fredwkong]

Ugh! One of the football coaches at uni just told me to personally tutor some of their players and they all have different majors! I have a life too, you know!

I'm so tired of being an angry little nerd all the time. I just want to take a break from uni and become a big, dumb jock for a while. No thoughts, brain empty, balls churning kind of guy.

I’m not sure if this is meant to be a vacation booking or a wish, but there’s a genie who’s raring to come and give you what you want, so that’s what you’re getting.

“I wish I was a dumb jock.”

The genie who appears before you looks like an alpha jock, wearing a cutoff tank top, basketball shorts, and a snapback cap. He grins at you and says, “Absolutely, bro. Love creating another dumb bro.”

He snaps his finger, and your button up shirt transforms into a white T-shirt printed with the words “FUCK ME BIG.” Your skinny nerd body is absolutely swimming in it. With a dumb guffaw, the genie vanishes.

Right on cue, the first football bro knocks on the door of your dorm room for your tutoring session. Without waiting for your response, he opens the door and walks in. “Hey bro, you gotta help me pass Chem—“ he trails off, his dumb brain catching up as he reads your shirt. A lustful look rushes over his face. “We can do that, too,” he growls, and rips off your cargo pants.

As he cums in your bony ass, you feel like all your knowledge of chemistry drains out into his dick, while at the same time you feel your whole body inflate a bit with muscle and fat. The bro puts his cock away in his pants. “Whoa, dude, I feel ready for that Chem midterm now, huhu,” he chuckles.

As he leaves, the next football bro walks in, complaining about his algebra quiz. Before you can protest, he reads your shirt.

By the end of the day, the whole football team has dropped a thick jock load in your new jiggly muscle butt. Every bit of knowledge you had has been drained out, and you sit on your bed, jiggling your fat pecs in your shirt and feeling the cum drool out of your asshole.

Another wish fulfilled.

Got a wish you need twisted? Send an ask! Remember to say “I wish” so the genie hears exactly what you’re wishing for.

[inkmonster21]

Sing for Me

13. You Know Me

Cooper Howard × Fem!Reader / The Ghoul × Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence.

From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

Tagged: @fallout-girl219 @harmfulb1tch @themadhattersqueen @one-of-thewalkingdead

I was tracking that Doctor in the wasteland. He hasn’t left long ago, only a day ahead my me. The dog was now at my heels. He stops at the buried diner, where the bloody remains of Doctor Wilzig lay, now headless. Kneeling as a coughing fit captures me. I dig into my pocket retrieving the chem and my inhaler. The weakness being taken away, the hurt in my bones being lifted, and the sweet lull of her voice now present in my ears. I take another inhale, just for shits and giggles. Call me guilty, but I just want to see her again. The more I do the more I’m able to see sweet hallucinations of her. 

I look up seeing the ghostly figure of her waving through the sand. She stares at the body of the Doctor with wide eyes. "Well, he must've said something mean." I let the corner of my mouth tug in a grin. "Come on, let's go find the rest of him." I begin to walk again, watching the dream of her pacing around before my eyes. The dog in tow of my shadow.

The trail of footprints leads to a tiny pit stop. A small bar and a row of cabins across the way. In all my travels I hadn't seen this place before. Seems I missed some things when I was buried in a box for 30 years.

Fucking Dom Pedro, I'll be coming for that ass one day.

I walk into the bar, the crowd slim. The bartender wiping a glass looks at me with nervous eyes. The young kid couldn't have been but 17. I lean on the worn wooden top. "You see a girl come through here? Decapitated head with her?" He looks over his shoulder, gazing at a door before thinking twice. Bingo. He shakes his head, "No, no one passed through here. Just the regulars for Melody." "Well, can I speak to this, Melody?"

"She's not here." A ghoul spoke. "Yeah? She ain't back there hiding?" I point back towards the door. "Don't mind if I check do you?" I walk over to grasp the knob. As I do the fellow ghoul pulls his gun up, but I pull my trigger first blasting a hole into his abdomen. I turn around, addressing the whole establishment. "Now, if ya'll don't mind. I'll be taking a tour." Without any protest, I enter the room.

The small room is lit by several small lamps. A vanity mirror against the wall, and makeup littering the top. I walk along the empty room the space feeling relaxing. déjàvu at its finest. I could almost... smell her. I run a hand over a beaded outfit, a stage costume. I take the fabric off the floor and look at it at full length. I shutter an exhale dropping the dress to the floor.

I move to the wall across the way, my breath getting caught in my throat. Posters from the movies we had done. Her album covers line the walls. One individual catches my eye. The while smiles of two lovers on a Christmas evening. I run my finger over her face. Could it be? Could this Melody... be my (Y/n)? I take the photo tucking it into the inner rim of my hat.

I exit the building, more determined than ever to find the target. Where the head was, she was, and if it was really her... I don't know what I would do first. Question her of her every move, or instantly attack her with starving passion. A starving man who’s ached for her touch for over 200 years.

~

Lucy gasps as she stops. "Look!" She peeps in a hushed voice. A baby deer pokes its head from the grass near the water. I roll my eyes at her incompetence. Such a simple-minded motherfucker. I dig for a cracker in my bag and hand it to her. "Go and feed it if you want." Her eyes got even larger I was worried they'd pop from her head. She nears the animal with a smile, leaning down she feeds the baby the cracker. She smiles and looks back at me. I shake my head with my arms crossed. "She's like a toddler," Conor whispers from behind. "Yep."

Suddenly the deer was snatched into the water. A gulper lunges out of the water and snaps at Lucy. "Ah, shit!" I yell as I rush to her side, dragging her away. Conor shoots it in the side, but as we know these motherfuckers are tough. It snatches at her hands, getting hold of the head and retreating back underwater. Lucy stands as she chases the creature's current across the lake. "Wait, Lucy, wait!" I yell as I run after her.

Just as I come to see her, a figure looms over her hunched body, pointing his gun at Lucy. She exhales a small breath and smiles, "Hello again." I raise my gun in haste pointing it at the figure. He's yet to notice me behind him. I continue to creep silently behind his body.

"Where is it?" He kicks around her bag, "The head." He whips her across the face with the butt of his gun.

I press the barrel of my gun to his back. His entire body stills as I apply pressure."Is that how you treat a lady?" The Ghoul tips his head, his face hidden, "Well," I can hear the smirk in his voice, "You gonna pull that trigger darlin'?" I look him up and down, something strangely familiar about him. "I might. Haven't had had a thrill in a while." Conor comes out of the shrubs as well, weapon drawn. The Ghoul looks over the new arrival, his tongue darting out of his mouth. A dark fire in his expression as he glares at my backup. He draws faster than I had ever seen before shooting Conor dead on the spot. I scream in shock, no one in the 30 years had he ever been caught off guard.

I look up to see The Ghoul with his weapon now raised to me. "This ain't the greeting I'd had hoped, darlin'." I lunged at him, grabbing and clawing at his frame. "YOU MOTHER FUCKER!" He tosses me off and gets on top of me, straddling my body as I roll in the dirt. He grabs my hands forcefully and ties them tightly together. I glare at him as I smell the crimson blood flow from Conor's body. "Fuck you!" I scream at him. He glares at me, meeting my orbs. I suck in a breath, his glare making me cower, making me weak. "You upset I shot your little boyfriend, honey?" He laughs as he stands, dragging me beside Lucy. She cries for Conor, spewing apologies.

The Ghoul points his gun at Lucy questioning about the head once more. She shuddered, "I-I don't know where it is, okay? I lost it. I lost it." I watch him shake his head. He meets my eyes again. They soften slightly. I couldn't look away from him. I wanted to lean into the touch of his gloved hand. "Where'd it go, sweetheart? Huh?" The answer falls from my lips. "A Gulper got it." He smirks before tipping my chin, "Good girl."

I stare at Conor's body slowly coming to the realization. He was gone. My friend, my brother, now lay dead in the dirt. What the fuck was I going to do now? He was the one who knew all the code when an issue occurred, all the maintenance, all the parts, and the work it took to maintain my memory drive. If I didn’t have my drive reloaded onto the memory stick I would start shorting out.

I look at the blades of grass stained with my friend's blood. This Ghoul stings Lucy up to a pull system rig. "Stop, please! My dad, he's an Overseer. He-he got taken by raiders, and I need that head to get him back. If you help me find him, he'll do whatever you want." Lucy begs as she cries out. He drops her into the water, calmly turning to me watching as the worry grows. "You're going to kill her!" "Oh please," He brings Lucy back up, and she struggles to catch her breath. "Stop. Stop! Torture is wrong," Lucy coughs. The Ghoul leans on the post. "You know, they used to do these things called "studies." Why, you couldn't open a newspaper without reading about one study or another. Anyway, this one particular study came out, and it said that torturing a person doesn't do shit." He drops her back down into the water. I look at him curiously. Those were prewar references. Studies in the newspaper.

I remember Cooper making the same complaint. “Can’t turn a page without one popping out at you.” He’d roll his eyes as he turned the page. The memory pushed a ghostly smile on my lips.

He brings her up again. Lucy cries loudly, "Sir, please, I need the head. It's the only way I can get my father back." He ignores her, "My point is... if you ask me, them studies, they were right. Torturing a person don't do shit." Lucy shakes her head in confusion, "Then why... why are you doing this?" I huff, struggling against my binds. "He's using you as fucking bait, Lucy!" The Ghoul drops her down once more. I slip from the rope and go to tackle the Ghoul. I punch and roll him away, getting to my feet and raising Lucy just in time for the Gulper to jump from the water. It attaches to her feet as I pull her back. Lucy tosses anything she can at the Gulper, including the stranger's bag. I light a flare and throw it into the Gulper's mouth. It shrieks before releasing Lucy's leg and retreating into the water.

The Ghoul stands with fury in his eyes. He points the gun at us with a firm hand. He makes eye contact with me and huffs lowering the weapon. He reaches inside his bag, pulling out a small case, upon opening shards of glass fall out. His breath becomes even more rigid. The anger unleashed, “FUCK!” He screamed out.

I push a laugh and sneer at him, “serves you right.” He glares at me while pointing a gloved finger at my chest, “Shut your fuckin’ mouth.” He grabs hold of my throat, “or I’m gonna have to shut it for you.” He tosses me aside.

Lucy gathers herself on her knees, "You can't treat people like this!" The Ghoul looks over the water. "Yeah? Why's that?" "Because of the golden rule." I roll my eyes at her, "It's not the fucking time, Lucy." She shakes her head and continues, "Do unto others as you would have done unto you." The Ghoul ignores her, muttering under his own breath. "Those Gulpers digest real slow. You got time." He turns on his heel. He kneels to Lucy on the ground binding her hands together. He turns to me, "You." He places the loop end of his lasso around my neck and tightens it. He glares into my eyes as he tugs it, "Come on."

He tugs me behind him, Lucy following as well. "Where are we going? What about the head? I need the head to get my dad back." The Ghoul continues walking, "Yeah, well, the Wasteland's got its own golden rule." "Oh? What's that?"

I say without thought, "Thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time." The Ghoul looks back at me as we track through the greenery. He stares into my eyes, his lips drawing into a smirk.

We walk through the noon wasteland heat, the sun hitting high in the sky beating down. Lucy gasps in small breaths. Her steps closer together as she staffers, her exhaustion battling. "Do you plan on stopping for a break? Or are you going to drag my ass through this hellhole?" The Ghoul looks to his side catching my features. I was in perfect condition. I could travel for miles unfazed, but Lucy looked like she was about to fall over. If I was to get anywhere near Hank MacLean, I needed his daughter alive. "Ain't stopping for shit." I watch his features contort. He's in pain. I lean into his space, our arms brushing. "I have a vial in my bag." I offer him. "If you allow us to stop, even for just an hour, I'll give it to you." The Ghoul stares at me, the ache in his bones growing. He didn’t have much of an option. If he had any brains left at all he’d take the deal.

"Fine." He huffs as he spins me around and digs into my bag. "Side pocket." He dips his hand down, skimming my side through the thick fabric of the bag, still a shiver runs up my spine. A long-forgotten feeling I didn’t want resurfacing.

I grit my teeth, "Watch it, cowboy." He smirks, showing his teeth, and biting his lip slowly. I take in every movement, my body unable to stop this natural attraction. Such a familiar urge pulling in my core. The familiarity in his eyes fights the harsh demeanor confusing me even more.

He grabs the glass vile, applying pressure to my side as he pulls his hand out. "Sorry, darlin'." He steps closer, running his fingers on the skin of my neck, I close my eyes as I get drunk on his touch. He loosens the rope on my neck, taking it over my head. "Go on, then. Rest.”

I turn to tend to Lucy. Allowing her to sip the little water we had left. “Thank you.” She croaks. “Don’t thank me yet, Lucy.” I look behind me seeing the Ghoul watching with his hat tipped ever so slightly. He watches with a smirk, staring directly at my frame. I feel that same shiver in my spine and I take a breath. Beyond him was a large building, halfway buried in the sand. The land resembles the once-thriving town. The current building was the movie theater, next to that was the restaurant, and down the way was a candy shop.

I grab Lucy’s arm pulling her with me to the building to take advantage of the shade. “Stay here.” I pass her the canister of water and silently move my way toward the entrance of the abandoned building.

I wander deep into the halls, most of the rooms torn apart with little to salvage. I see a poster crumpled under my shoes. I move the rubble to get a better look. I laugh lightly, bending down to retrieve it. A movie poster. One of his favorites actually. The special movie he was able to make with Rosevelt. I pick it up with a small grin.

“Anything in here worth a shit?”

I turned to see the Ghoul as he silently leaned against the doorway. I folded the worn faded poster quickly, stuffing it into my bag before shaking my head. “Nope. Just some junk.” His eyes shifted to my bag quickly. I push past him in search of caps, food, anything to distract me from dipping into forbidden waters.

“Then what’s that?” He grabs my bag tugging it down my arm. “Hey!” I fight for it back but he pulls the crumpled post out. Barely recognizable, but I knew what it was, who it was. “Give that back, fucking asshole.”  

The Ghoul laughs as he holds the poster out for his viewing eyes. He reads off the words, his southern drawl thick in his words, “Cooper Howard staring in A Man and His Dog.” He looks down at me. He raises a hairless brow, “this your type of thing?” I snatch the poster from his gloved hand. “It’s a good movie.” “Cute dog.” I stuff the worn paper down into my bag. “Best fucking dog around.”

I venture to the next room. The projection booth remained pretty untouched. Being tucked away from most wanderers. I look over my shoulder seeing the Ghoul leaning against the door frame with a shameless smirk. “Why are you following me around? She'll make a break for it if you’re not around.”

“Nah, I doubt she’ll be able to run.” He lifts himself from the door, his boots scuffling the floor with each step. I look between each case, and box, only finding a handful of caps. “I’m more concerned bout you, darlin’.” I turn around, having to back up into the shelves. His face is at a perfect angle. I can truly see him.

He takes one step closer, pinning me to the bookcase. My breath shutters as I inhale, soaking him in. He bores into my eyes silently. Words are not spoken but a conversation is taking place. One I am unable to hear. A private conversation between souls. I crave him, this stranger with the familiar glow. He runs a finger over my bottom lip. I turn my head away, but he readjusts it to meet his gaze. He dips his head lower, our faces inches from each other. "What are you doing?" The Ghoul's smirk rises again. "Just takin a look." He pulls a case from the shelve. "Ain't this you?" The film being a musical I starred in. I look at him curiously. "You know me, cowboy?" He shrugs, his hat shielding his features once more, "Well, that depends." He raises his head, allowing his orbs to pop through. "You know me?"

I stare at him, the missing pieces of a puzzle I didn't know needed solving. He felt so familiar. He knew of a life before the bombs, maybe that's why the connection was there.

A loud scream breaks me from my trance. I push past him and race outside. Lucy tied to a wooden beam in the front kicks at a rad roach with a panicking whine. I shoot the bugs with an annoyed expression. "Calm down would you?" She shakes, her eyes wide, "Those things were about to eat my toes!" She panics as she pulls against her binds.

We continue on walking through the wasteland to some unknown destination. The Ghoul walks behind Lucy and me; making sure we advance on his path. He stares at me with each step. His eyes glassed over slightly. The one vial only would hold his pain over for so long.

Lucy pants in the sun her legs threatening to fail her. "Melody. Do... Do you have any more water?" I shaky my head at her with a sympathetic look. She turns to look at the Ghoul. "Sir. Sir, please. I need water. Please." He goes and pulls out his canteen, opens the lid, drinks the remaining water, and even dumps out the last drops onto the sand. I shake my head at him. Such a petty man. Lucy's pants of dehydration make him smirk. He looks me up and down. "How come you're all dandy? Hadn't seen you want for nothing." "I don't need water." "Everyone needs water." I shake my head, "Not me." The Ghoul challenges again, "Well why the fuck not?" I sneer at him with a smirk, "I guess you'll just have to wait and find out." He smirks, his teasing behavior continuing, building the tension between us. "Shit, darlin', I like surprises."

I could feel his wandering eyes rake over my body. The burning gaze made my hair stand and my stomach turn. Passing a building, a groan and a shout ring out. "Roger! My name is Roger!" The Ghoul makes Lucy enter first. He places a hand on my lower back, "Come on, darlin'." I fight the urge to lean into his touch, in hopes he would use both his hands.

Upon entering we see a man sitting and thrashing on the sand. "Roger. My name is Roger." He's going down and fast. I press my lips together watching the stranger twist in pain. "Roger. Roger. My name... is Roger!" He screams out again. The Ghoul leans down in front of the turning Ghoul.

"Hey, Rog." He focused his gaze, a small smile coming up at the sight. "Hey. Hey. Fancy seeing you out here. You out for that bounty, too, huh?" He nods, "Yep." Roger unwillingly snarls and wails. The Ghoul looks towards his acquaintance. "How you feeling?"

Roger chuckles after a harsh exhale. "Oh... You know... it's hard out here. Dang smoothies can be so unkind." Roger turns to look toward Lucy and I. He points at me with a chuckle. "Hey! I saw you not too long ago. Sang that one song, real pretty but real sad, about going to your grave." I push a smile, "Yeah, I wrote that a while back. Glad you enjoyed it." Roger huffs looking towards the Ghoul. "Got yourself a nice-looking smoothie. Sings like an angel." He snarls loudly making Lucy jump.

"You're turning." Roger grunts, "Yeah. Yeah, maybe. Maybe. Hey, you-you don't happen to have any vials, do you? Just one little puff and I'll be back on my feet. You know I'm good for it." The Ghoul shakes his head, "I'm sorry, Roger. I'm all out." Roger holds his hands up, "That's okay. That's okay. Though, um, you and your smooth-faced friends, you, um... might want to clear out... before things get ugly." He snarls loudly. I kneel, smiling at Roger. I began to sing the lyrics he spoke of.

It's sooner than later that I'm six feet under

It's sooner than later that you'll be alone

So who will you turn to tomorrow, I wonder?

For when the bombs drop, lover, you're on your own

Roger smiles at me as the words echo in the beaten-up building. His eyes glossing over, he's almost completely gone.

I am the one who you let see you weeping

I know the soul that you struggled to save

Too bad I'm the bet that you lost in the reaping

Now what will you do when I go to my grave?

His eyes close as he sways. As the last word leaves my mouth a shot rings out, splattering Roger's brain on the back wall. Lucy covers her mouth, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Wh... why?" I look back at her. "You're going to have to toughen up, kid. It was for the better." The Ghoul spends no time putting his gun back in his holster and flipping Roger over. I scoff as he cuts into his flesh, skinning him in strips.

The Ghoul brings a slice up to his lips taking a large bite. Lucy gags and protests, "Stop. Stop, stop. Please, I... No, I know it's hard up here, but you don't... you don't have... you don't have to resort to... to..." The Ghoul looks up from his work with a question. "What'd you say your name was?" "Lucy MacLean." The Ghoul stills, he turns to face us, an unreadable expression as he speaks, "MacLean? Huh." He begins his work again, "Well, Lucy MacLean, it ain't all canned peaches and marmalade left up here, sweetheart. Sometimes a fella's got to eat a fella." Lucy pushes her point even further. "You know, my vault has endured hardship, too. In the Great Plague of '77, everyone had to quarantine, they couldn't work the farms together. People starved. My mother included. My dad dropped to 128 pounds, and he still refused to do anything like this." I laugh at her words. She looks at me with wonder, "What? What's so funny?" I shake my head at her, distracting myself with the broken plates on the floor. "No, no, nothing. I feel for him. Must've been so hard." My sarcastic tone is thick in my words. The Ghoul chuckles, "There's what people say they did and what they really did. I'll bet your daddy was first in line at the cookout. I bet he had a bib with a drawing of his neighbor's ass on there." I laugh at his words. "That's funny."

Lucy looks at me in disbelief. "How do you live like this? Why keep going?" The Ghoul turns to her, a glare in his eyes. He stands and stalks towards her, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, one good question deserves another." He turns the handle of the knife to Lucy, "Why the fսck am I doing all the work? Now come on, Vaultie. Ass jerky don't make itself."