#nick mercs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sturnsdarling · 9 months ago

Text

'Chris likes girls who don't like him back'

Late night streaming with your best friends turns to a conversation about the boys' type, and Chris gets called out

vibe check: flirty fluffy fun, 3/4 of my favourite f words

1.4k words

A/N: i had this idea literally straight away after what Matt said about Chris' type.........the idea of being Chris' best friend that he openly fancies but you're 'not interested' makes MY TOES CURL BRO LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING anyway I hope you love this. PART TWO IS HERE

love and cigs, merc

"Matt he's right there what the fuck are you doing?!" you scream down the mic, nearly throwing your controller across the room as you jolt back in your chair.

You watch as Matt gets sniped in the head from the back, laughing as he wails on this desk, making the whole stream glitch and nearly crash. Chris is laughing along with you, trying not to make it obvious that he's watching you, and not Matt.

"Matt, bro you need to fuckin' up your game, y/n/n is actually carrying us right now." Chris says as Matt picks his chair up off the floor and sits back down in a huff.

"I always carry when I come on with you boys" you smirk, looking at the tiny square of Chris on your screen.

"yeah because you're a little sweat" Matt chuckles.

The boys had been streaming everyday for over a week now and, after some convincing, they managed to get you to join in on one of their games. At first you were apprehensive, obviously, but they explained that they were trying to diversify their platform and find a more mature audience so, actually interacting with girls on the internet was their first step.

You and the boys had been friends for forever, you met them through Nick in elementary school and had basically all been inseparable ever since, you'd been in some earlier videos but the fans back then made it very difficult to just exist around them so, you took it upon yourself to only exist in their real life, not their online one.

Cut to right now, you're nearly two hours deep in fortnite trios with the boys on stream, everyone was super excited to see you when they announced that they'd be joining and, other than a couple comments that you all ignored, it was going really well.

"Matt, someone asked what our types are" Chris laughed, reading the chat.

"I'm not answering that" Matt dead panned, screwing his face up at the camera

"I can answer it for you both, for sure" you chuckle, "chat do you want me to answer it?"

"yes, yes, yes, yes, omg yes" Chris was reeling off the answers in chat, "everyone wants y/n/n to answer, Matt should we let her?" Chris asked.

Matt rolled his eyes with a smile, "g'head, y/n/n, expose us" He chuckled.

"okay, so" you said, in your best girly gossip voice, "Matt likes nerdy, reader, soft girls" you begin to explain, your train of thought is interrupted by Chris erupting into laughter.

"dude she's so right! you love a girl that looks like she's always buried in a book" Chris wails.

"what are you guys even saying?" Matt complains, the smile etched across his face giving his tone a lot less power.

"you definitely want a girl who will go on a hike with you or some shit, Matt" You say, enjoying this whole interaction a bit too much.

Chris was keeled over in laughter, loving finally being able to talk about this kind of stuff on the internet without everyone going insane.

"I dunno why you're laughing so much, Chris, you're next" Matt states, Chris shrugs in reply.

"i don't give a fuck, call me out y/n/n, gimme the best you got" Chris sits back in his chair, arms folded over his chest.

"hmmmm" you say, exaggerating your thinking, "what is the famous Christopher Sturniolos type" you rub your chin, pretending to be thinking deeply.

A knowing smirk is spread wide across Chris' face as he stares at your face on his screen, tongue prodding the side of his cheek.

"I know Chris' type" Matt adds, a menacing smile on his face.

"g'head matt, you take this one" you gesture to the boy on your screen.

"Chris likes girls who don't like him back" Matts brows raise in accusation towards Chris.

You try and hide the smile forming on your face, attempting to look as focused on the game as possible as your tongue prods at your teeth. Neither of the boys say anything, both of them cheesing, Matt in a teasing and knowing kind of way and Chris more so in a 'I cant say what I wanna say' kind of way.

"damn, Matt, you just called me the fuck out" Chris shakes his head, looking to the tiny version of you on his screen.

You're still quiet, trying to fight the smile on your face and look as focused as possible, you catch Chris looking as if he's looking at you on his screen and shake your head with a chuckle.

"what you grinnin' at, kid?" Chris smirks.

You raise your brows, shaking your head with a downwards smile, "no, nothin', nothin" you say, returning your focus back to the game.

All of the viewers watched the interaction and were blowing up the chat with comments about how Chris definitely likes you, saying things like 'did you guys see that?!', and 'think they're slick look at how they're both smiling!!!!!'. Chris was reading the comments and trying to hide the red blush crawling its way onto his cheeks, Matt was relishing in the fact that Chris was so obviously nervous, and you were just trying not to react.

"Chris, dude, you better wipe that smile off your face, chat's onto you" Matt pokes the bear.

"chat ain't onto shit, Matt, shut the fuck up" Chris says, trying to be serious but unable to push his smile down.

"you know i'm right though, you do like girls who don't want you" Matt pushed on with his joke.

"Matt, shut your fuckin' mouth, dude" Chris rolled his eyes and shook his head, his smile still prevalent.

You couldn't help but laugh, still pretending to not care about the situation unfolding. In hindsight, it probably made it all the more obvious that you knew exactly what Matt was referring to.

"you're awful quiet, y/n/n, you got nothing to say on Chris' type?" Matt extends his joke over to you and your attention is immediately on him.

"nah, you hit the nail on the head, I think" you shrug, stretching back in your chair and adjusting your headset.

"oh really?" Chris replies, brows raised in accusation.

"mhm" you nod, faux innocently.

Chris kisses his teeth, nodding and trying to hide the smile on his face once again.

"yeah, chat, Matts right, I like pretty girls, who don't like me back" Chris says, subtly turning his attention to you and then back to chat.

You roll your eyes with a smile, leaning forward once more to lock into the game.

"you're ridiculous, Chris" Matt chuckles into the mic, watching you shift in your seat, trying not to blush.

The rest of the game went off without a hitch, you guys went on to win multiple times and all the viewers eventually stopped trying to get the conversation back to Chris' obvious crush on you. You played until the early hours of the morning, joking and laughing with the boys' just like old times and relishing in the fact that you were finally able to be a part of their online presence again. When it hit around three a.m you told them you had to sign off, explaining that you had to be up early for college that morning.

"guys, I gotta go, but I'll text you when I wake up" you said, pulling off your headset, and brushing your hair back with your hand.

"alright, y/n/n, thanks for helping us bury kids, its always a treat" Matt grinned at you, shooting you his token boyish smile.

"you know I live to humble kids on fort, Matt" You shrugged, putting on your best boyish persona, earning a laugh from Matt

"okay seriously, I gotta go, bye chat!" you smile, "bye boys" you go to switch off your computer but you're stopped by Chris booming voice.

"bye, beautiful" he says, a cheesy grin on his face.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as an uncontrollable smile finds your lips, "bye, Chris" you reply, switching off your computer.

The whole chat erupts with people losing their minds over Chris calling you beautiful, the boys say nothing, Matt just shakes his head, laughing at the chat as he watches Chris, grinning with pride and completely unashamed of his very obvious crush on you.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10

#©sturnsdarling #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #Spotify

2K notes · View notes

sinisterexaggerator · 24 days ago

Text

Sidetracked

The Ghoul (Cooper Howard) x F!Reader

Summary: Your mother is the matriarch of one of the largest merchant houses and crime families in the state of New California. Her reach extends as far as the Mojave. She has ten children—you are only one of them—yet you dare to have the gall to steal from her for a better cause, a different future. Will you be able to make a new life for yourself? Will her hired merc, the Ghoul, turn you in for caps so that she can take her sweet revenge? Or, will you strike a bargain with the man himself?

Warnings/NSFW 18+ for: Foul language, PiV sex, doggy-style, cunnilingus, sass, brat-taming, mild non-con elements, fingering, cum eating, tit-fondling, roughhousing, face-sitting, cat and mouse chase, and use of rope as a restraint. There is a mention of you/reader having a mother and siblings.

Word Count: 6.7k

Notes: This is my first time writing for the Ghoul, though I have written for both Hancock and NIck Valentine in the past! I'm a slut for Cad Bane (Star Wars), another hot n' sexy bounty hunter with a bad attitude, so diggin' the Ghoul tracks. This reader and her backstory are loosely based on the Van Graffs from Fallout: New Vegas.

Reblogs / likes / comments appreciated! You will find the ending makes a part two entirely possible, depending on if I ever decide to write one. :D

Ao3

“Here, kitty, kitty…”

The bastard had a voice like flint—smooth, with a hard edge—a needle of frustration piercing the Ghoul’s otherwise calm disposition. He’d been hot on your trail for days, but his little plaything had always been one step ahead—until now, that is—the bounty hunter having finally cornered his quarry in a rundown, ramshackle, shithole of a town that had a bare-bones population of one—you—not countin’ the ferals.

You were cowering behind refuse outside a dilapidated warehouse, he was inspecting his top-break custom revolver, preemptively reloading after wasting shots on two necrotic roamers that had almost interrupted this little shindig. The barrel snapped back into place with a resounding crack that made you wince, convinced he wasn’t out to kill you, though he was putting on quite the show.

“Here’s the thing, sweetheart—the way you’ve been hoarding bullets for that ten millimeter of yours, I’d say you were about out of ammo. ‘Course, that won’t do you a bit of good now you’ve got five or six man-eaters just to the south, and me right here in front of you. Thinkin’ it’s about time you and I had a little heart-to-heart, whaddaye say?”

“Fuck you!” you seethed, teeth clenching as you grappled your wounded arm. The bullet hole had been placed there by none other than your pursuer some two miles back, the trek through the barren wastes taking its toll—along with a fair amount of blood loss—yet you would persist.

You had managed to lose him outside New Reno in a place that used to be called Silver Springs. A settlement had cropped up, but of course the shopkeep had been all out of stims, and there was no medical doctor on hand.

Once the streets started to clear, you knew he had arrived; you snuck out the back like a proper scoundrel before he could sniff you out, giving yourself at least one hour’s head start.

“Now, that ain’t necessarily off the table for a pretty girl like you, but one thing my momma taught me back some two hundred years…” he paused for dramatic effect, the shit-eating grin he bore edging its way into thick, mocking words, the Ghoul’s charming drawl sending unwelcomed prickles down your spine.

“It’s fine to play with your food, as long as you still eat it.”

Fear overtook you, adrenaline coursing through your veins as your fight or flight response threatened to kick in. The hunter was merciless, hounding you like a bloodthirsty dog out to appease its master—the woman had who had put the price on your head, and a hefty sum at that: your own mother, the matriarch of your dear family.

You stalled for time, attempting to concoct a plan of action in order to get yourself out of this mess. “I’m sure you’d love the way I taste,” you quipped, looking desperately to the left and right for any semblance of an escape route—you may as well have been trapped between a rock and a hard place, either forced to give yourself up, or to risk your life at the hands of irradiated zombies that would just as soon tear you apart as they would look at you; you only had three bullets left.

The Ghoul sucked his teeth, a two-stop articulation of his tongue, clucking the roof of his mouth. He found you to be amusing, a cynical shake of his head signaling he wholeheartedly disagreed.

“Ya know, the old lady didn’t specify dead or alive… We could always test that little theory of yours, if only you’d come out, come out, wherever ya are,” the demon taunted, standing to his full height as he left the cover of an old newspaper stand.

The merc adjusted his Cattleman crown, stepping over bits of debris and rotting wood, distressed leather boots dusting up dirt as he traipsed lazily toward the sound of your voice.

“I imagine what with havin’ nine other kids, she ain’t too worried ‘bout losin’ one —especially a traitor.”

“I’m not a traitor!” you shouted without thinking, voice laced with indignation. You kept your place, despite the Ghoul inching his way forward, thinking perhaps he could be persuaded to your side.

“Mother hoards resources, has anyone killed who looks at her funny, refuses to cooperate with the New California Republic, and all in the name of profits!” you glowered. “The whole family is greedy! Just waiting around for her to die, fighting over whose next in line to run our ‘Empire!’ I’m sick of it!” you emphasized, tone rising in pitch as your temper began to soar.

“Well, now I’ve heard everything…” He was closer now; you clutched your weapon so hard your knuckles changed colors, knowing you wouldn’t stand a chance against this asshole if he got his hands on you. Your mother was always hiring mercs to do her dirty work, and this was no exception.

“Sick of bein’ rich and powerful? Always gotta be one good one outta the bunch,” he lamented, tone dripping with sarcasm, the Ghoul reminiscing on pre-war oligarchs and their self-righteous offspring. He vaguely recalled a princess being a do-gooder, until the royal family had called in a hit and done her in.

He halted his trek through the sand, giving a curious tilt of his head. This would be the first time you saw the man up close, peeking out to be met with two hazel eyes, bichromatic, like radial sunbursts, blues and browns culminating together like sand and ocean in a mix you had a hard time denying was anything but beautiful.

You scowled, readying your pistol. “The world’s fucked!” you growled, “and someone’s gotta unfuck it, get it? Even if only one piece at a time!”

You bit your lip to distract from a sudden flash of pain in your bicep, your next few words riddled with ache, an audible quaver unable to be obscured, even by your anger. “It may as well be me! Someone who has something to give back,” you argued, wanting to use your family’s powerful position to others’ benefit.

The Ghoul didn’t bother to move, watching as you recoiled to take cover once more. He was well aware of your gunshot wound, thinking maybe he could talk some sense into you before things escalated, not that he cared either way—he would get paid regardless.

“Too bad about that arm,” he commented offhand, feigning concern; you thought he sounded bored, realizing he was humoring you by letting the conversation go on for this long.

That, or he liked to hear himself talk.

“Now, you decide you want to behave yourself, I got somethin’ to patch that up, and maybe you’ll just make it out of this alive.”

“Or—” he paused, what was a brief silence feeling like it would stretch on forever. You grew impatient for what you knew was going to come next: some kind of threat of intent to injure, or an appeal to any remaining gumption—you had plenty. “—I could put a bullet in that pretty head of yours and drag you back to Redding; seems like a waste on two counts, one being the ammo.”

“That’s about as far as I’m willin’ to elucidate,” the Ghoul warned, his voice decidedly calm, easily demonstrating the seriousness of your predicament and demarcating his lack of patience. “So, what’ll it be? You bein’ a good girl for me, or are ya gonna make this hard?”

It was obvious this man would only answer to two things: brute force, or cold, hard caps. You had neither, at least not on hand. What you did have were those three bullets. You dared to use one, knowing that the Ghoulification process did not make one immortal on all counts.

You had enough target practice back home to be a fairly decent shot, but the gunslinger was faster. He sidestepped for you to barely graze the edge of his tattered duster, threadbare from overwear, having nearly exhausted its utility.

A smirk played out across the Ghoul’s plush mouth, stretching his withered skin. He shook his head, not thinking you’d have the guts to go and do that, though he was impressed you still had any fight left in you. “Self-preservation must not be in your wheelhouse.”

Shit. Why hadn’t you kept any of those energy weapons on hand? You had buried them, the same as the money, far out in the desert below the cracked foundation of a crumbling homestead. You meant to distribute them, along with the caps, to disparate settlements. To buy water in abundance from roaming caravans, hoping to find yourself in some other trade—one that wasn’t soul sucking and abhorrent.

You wanted the people to be able to protect themselves from your fool of a mother and her parasitic spawn, those among your siblings who had no independent thought. She spread them out across the Mojave, made them into managers and enforcers for the various branches of her mercantile empire, directing them to do her bidding.

Unsanctioned deals were rare; no one had the gall to go behind your mother’s back. No one but you, it seemed, but she sure as hell wouldn’t let you off the hook just for being family.

“Guess that means you’ve gone and picked the latter, eh, sweetheart?

The Ghoul’s footsteps advanced as he closed in on your position. The bits of scrap and trash you were hiding behind did little in the way of shielding you, leaving you open and vulnerable to whatever it was the hunter had in store.

You were out of options; you fired your last two shots.

The first one missed, but the second nicked the bastard’s hat, the Ghoul stopping in his tracks long enough to pick the Cattleman up off his head. He observed where you had marred its brim, scowling before replacing it back where it belonged, thinking this had just become a little bit more personal.

“You’re gonna regret that,” he said, his voice dangerous and rasping, causing your spit to all but evaporate, assisted by the dry heat of this godforsaken tundra.

The time had come for you to bolt, though your odds of escape were poor. You had little faith in your ability to outrun this man, but all you could do was try.

Clutching your wounded arm, you crawled out from behind your makeshift barrier. No sooner had you turned to flee than he made use of his toys, easily snatching you around your waist by way of a braided rope.

You’d been lassoed like an untamed mare, the Ghoul determined to break your spirit, if not your legs, dragging you backward across the sand one inch at a time. You squirmed like caught prey, tugging at the length of rope that bound you. It was to no avail, as the knot was tight, this not being among the Ghoul’s first rodeos.

“Let me go!” you screeched, digging in the heels of your boots to slow his backward pull. There was no way you were going quietly without a fight, not if this might be the last thing you ever had the chance to do of your own volition.

The Ghoul chuckled wryly, finding this whole bit to be amusing. “If I had a cap for every time I heard that, bettin’ I’d be rich.”

You were angrier than a rabid Yao guai, finding unfairness in your situation, wondering why it was that bad things always seemed to happen to good people, or those who tried to be anything but cruel.

If there was one thing you had learned in this life, it was that money talked. It was a shame that it was all you had to bargain with, or so you thought, but only if the Ghoul bought into your offer and there was no telling where his morals lay.

For all you knew, he could be doing this for fun—caps might be a bonus. And it was hard to say if he'd be willing to cross your clan, even if you could match what your mother was paying him.

“Please,” you started, trying to invoke his decency, calling out to any that might be left beneath that ghoulish exterior, though your captor was known by and large to be rather rough and tumble; you would not allow yourself to get your hopes up. “We can strike a deal—I’ll match your price. Hell, I’ll do better—just tell me how much!” you grated between clenched teeth.

“Now ya wanna talk. Little late for that.”

You had been unsuccessful at your attempt to escape, the man in the hat jerking you up by the back of your shirt before he spun you around, forcing you to face him.

You were shocked at his countenance up close. Never before had you been this near to a ghoul, always making it a top priority to stay far from their kind. Maybe it was out of fear of them going feral, or the fact you did not wish to witness what you might so easily become under the right circumstance, afraid to look this precursor to death in its eyes.

And yet, this man teetering on the verge of decomposition, somewhere between a warm body and a rotting corpse, wasn't so far gone that you couldn’t make out his humanity, however twisted, lingering somewhere inside those expressive viewports to his soul.

“It’s never too late,” you replied, unable to curtail that part of you that was rebellious, “only if you say it is.”

“And I do have the upper hand,” the merc reminded you, wrapping the loose end of the rope left hanging succinctly around your wrists. He resorted to bundling the surfeit in a double knot; there was no way you were breaking out.

You bared your teeth like a wild hound as you struggled helplessly. The bounty hunter admired the tenacity by which you had held your own, the fact that you were quarrelsome, not so ready to give in. He patted your cheek like he would man's best friend; if you were going to behave like an animal, he was going to treat you like one.

“It’s a long way back to Reddin’. You may as well quit while you’re ahead—otherwise, this whole situation is liable to be unpleasant, more than it already is.”

“Five hundred caps,” you blurted out, staring at him squarely, suppressing all your innate instincts, the only things left to you that seemed like a logical response. Instead, you would assay to reason with him—he wasn’t feral … yet.

The Ghoul searched your face. He must have found something there he favored. You produced in him a small inclination of his neck, as if he might be debating your proposition.

Then, he smiled. “Your maw’s paying me a thousand,” he said in that aloof, forbearing drawl.

“Fine, two thousand,” you returned, standing up straight, though the man towered. You found your heart was pounding, but not for the reasons you had first assumed.

He eyed you then, glancing down toward your chest, studying the way it rose and fell with every trembling breath. His gaze would travel back up, the Ghoul noticing the fast, rhythmic beat of your pulse point standing out from the smooth column of your throat. Your blood pressure was elevated. You reminded him of a mouse caught in a snare.

“And just where’re keepin’ ‘em?” he asked, one hand encased in a thick leather glove patting you down, starting at your hip and working its way below your belt line, groping at the meat of your thigh. “Don’t assume you have two thousand caps just hidin’ in your underoos. Figure I would have noticed.”

Your breath caught; you could not think straight. He continued until he had reached your ankles. You were tempted to knee him in the face, but you knew you wouldn’t get far—not like this. You withheld, knowing that to make a deal might be your only chance.

“Is that the best excuse you have for touching me?” you shot back, defiant.

By this time, the Ghoul had stood back up to his tall stature. He reached for your waist, planning to grope there, too. You cursed yourself for wanting it, staring back once more into his deceptive, deep brown eyes, flecked with hints of blue.

“Can never be too careful. One, you may be packin’ somethin’ else, though I’d be sure you’d try to use it by this point. Two, don’t think bein’ a gentleman is part of my reputation around these parts, and I ain’t above doin’ what needs to be done to ensure I survive—not that you’re much of a threat.”

That riled you up. Maybe that was the point. You bucked against him, once more endeavoring to loosen your restraints. “Fuck you.”

His cocky grin returned, the Ghoul snatching you up by the point of your chin. “Now, you already said that once already. I ain’t too sure that thought didn’t cross your mind. Bein’ alive this long, somethin’ I’ve learned is how to assess my surroundings—and that includes a person’s body language.”

You shot daggers from your eyes, but a thought occurred to you. As far as ensuring your own survival, you weren’t above doing what needed to be done, either. “Would you let me go if…”

“Look at that, already makin’ suggestions, not botherin’ to refute my claim, but willin’ to bang a ghoul. Suppose there ain’t much a person wouldn’t do these days to get ahead.”

“As if you haven’t done worse things,” you snapped.

“Never said I hadn’t,” the Ghoul squeezed either side of your face before letting go to come around behind you. You stiffened, unsure of his next set of moves.

“But that ain’t one of ‘em. Killin’ ya? Now, that’s fair game, but takin’ advantage of a woman is somethin’ altogether different, and that ain’t a game I like to play,” he purred into your ear.

“The offer’s on the table,” you seethed, giving him your own nasty smirk from over the peak of your shoulder, “got some Rad-X in my jacket—better make it count.”

The Ghoul turned his head to spit in the sand, as if your words had left a bad taste in his mouth. He traipsed back around toward your front, giving you a look that equated offense, combined with a full-on sneer.

“You couldn’t handle me, little rabbit. I’d break you like a twig.” He couldn’t help himself, taunting you further, “’course maybe that’s what you want; somebody oughta bring you down a peg or two, and it sure as hell ain’t gonna be your momma.”

“I bet you couldn’t even make me cum, you fucking prick,” you snarked back, your words accompanied by the jarring sound of your laughter. It echoed across the dunes, continuing long after you had stopped. It set the Ghoul’s blood to boiling, as his fuse was short. Disrespect wasn’t something he often tolerated, even when the subject matter was figurative at best.

Time to give you a healthy dose of stark reality.

The Ghoul whipped you around, not being courteous to the likes of your wounded arm. You screamed in protest, but he simply pressed the flat of his boot against the round of your ass, pushing you forward toward town, or what was left of it.

“What are you doing?” You stumbled over your own two feet, even as the bastard jabbed his gun against the small of your back.

“Acceptin’ your challenge, rabbit.”

“Are you serious right now?”

He was silent as he marched you onward, forcing you to enter the skeletal remains of some poor soul’s squalid dream house. Once inside, he took hold of your bindings, twirling you back around to face him as he pinned you firmly against what was left of the kitchen table.

“What I wants the money,” he leered, “but why don’t you go ‘head,” the Ghoul dared, “tell me what it is you want.”

Your eyes widened as his gloved hand stretched out to palm the shape of your breast. “Freedom,” you interjected, even as your breath hitched in your throat; even as you made a little sound, a chirrup like that of a bird.

“You sure?”

The Ghoul’s hand traveled, releasing your tit to cup the flesh of your thigh. He gave it a pinch before it snuck downward, slipping up under your hamstring, coercing your groins to align with a crude jerk of his arm.

You gasped, so sudden was your closeness, staring down into the vacant pit of his nasal cavity before your eyes shot up, matching the intensity of his stare.

“Do we have a deal?”

“You gonna show me where you hid those caps?”

“You gonna fuck me, cowpoke?”

You felt something—movement inside the pocket of your jacket. The Ghoul located the Rad-X you had so brazenly rubbed in his face, then stuck two fingers straight into your mouth, forcing it wide open.

“You’re gonna need these,” he said, shoving the pills down your gullet, coaxing you to swallow by curling a knuckle against the base of your throat.

You nearly choked, gagging without water as the Ghoul grinned like a Cheshire cat, tourmaline eyes monitoring your reaction, enjoying this little moment right before he unhooked his holster, tossing his revolver down onto the ground.

“Asshole,” you hissed, coughing for good measure, trying to dislodge what felt like a rock trapped in the center of your esophagus.

“The name’s Coop,” the Ghoul jeered, “for when you need somethin’ to moan—won’t be long, kit.”

You assumed “Coop” was short for Cooper. You laughed, mocking the merc before you—he’d walked right into this one, and you weren’t about to let the chance slip by. “Won’t be long? Just like every other man,” you japed.

The Ghoul growled; it quieted you down substantially, finding yourself twisting under his hold as he raked into your hair. He bit into the glove of his opposite hand with blunt, stained teeth, spitting it out to join his holster on the ground.

“Now I think I understand,” he remarked, his temperament having changed, his disposition one of muted animosity as he strained to keep his cool, “all ya are’s a brat, and I know how to deal with brats.”

You felt a pinch at your waist, a tug. The Ghoul pulled at your zipper, shoving one hand down your newly unbuttoned pants. At the same time, he lifted your ass up onto the table with the strength of his bicep; you wriggled atop its surface, trying to scootch back out of range. He’d drag you back by clawing into your jeans, compelling you to remain eye to eye.

“Where you going, darlin’? Fun’s just gettin’ started.”

It was as if time stood still, the Ghoul’s desiccated fingers finding the protuberance of glands nestled between the folds of your labia. You meant to fight back—to kick, to punch if you could, though your arms were bound—but all you managed was to melt into his touch.

“Shit,” you whispered, as you so readily succumbed, not wanting to admit to yourself you found him anything but ugly. Instead, you angled your hips as he dipped one digit inside you, his rough thumb already swirling circles as he watched you quiver, the Ghoul’s mouth halfway parted in silent ridicule.

Then, he had to go and ruin it by talking.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

You gasped as he curled his finger inside you, slipping in one extra after the fact, pressing the two together against the anterior wall of your sex. He knew exactly where to aim, sending sparks out from your belly toward your already slick loins. You moaned despite yourself, leaning forward to better meet his reach.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had an itch to scratch long before my time—maybe that’s why you’re so foolhardy.”

“Just shut up,” you fumed, rocking in time to the pace of his rhythm; the Ghoul slid right out of you with a wet schlurp, raising his hand to spread apart the sticky sheen that clung between his fore and middle finger, licking it clean with a swipe of his tongue.

You were agog with morbid fascination, yet pissed as fuck he had stopped when you felt something building up deep inside you, wanting to cum though you would have to deal with the repercussions—the fact he would never let you live it down.

“Now, that ain’t no way to talk kindly to your elders,” the Ghoul said with a mischievous lilt. “Manners’ll get you a lot further than you might think, ‘course I don’t expect much from your generation. You all ain’t right in the head.”

You snapped your teeth, nipping thin air, purposely aiming for the spot his nose would have been, had it not long ago completely rotted off. Coop snagged you by the jaw, giving your face a good and irritating shake.

“Remember, you asked for this, little rabbit.”

You heard the rustling of fabric, a shuck. The Ghoul used both hands to clasp you around the hips, having finally taken the time to discard his other glove.

“Come on, then,” you dared, ignoring the pain in your arm. The flow of blood had waned to a trickle; you would live. In reality, you wanted to touch him, grope him, feel him, but you doubted the Ghoul would bother to untie you to entertain your fantasies.

Coop had his cock at the ready; it was hard and girthy but not malformed. Yet his foreskin was as mutated by the radiation as much as the rest of him, though it did not frighten you. “You’re on my schedule, so you best just hold your horses. The more fuss you make about it, the less inclined I am to indulge you, hear that?”

Then, he smiled an infuriating smile, “and now we both know just how bad off ya are.”

Whether or not you were impatient was beside the point; the man was maddening. You cinched your legs around his waist and pulled him close, the Ghoul making a show out of holding onto his hat.

“Giddyup,” you demanded, sneering.

That did it; something clicked in the Ghoul’s brain to where he lifted you up off the table by your collar. He didn’t say a word as he roughly spun you around, pressing his palm into the curve of your lower back, pressuring you to bend over.

A solid, hard slap to your ass caused you to yelp, followed by the bastard yanking down the seat of your pants. You struggled for air as you felt the Ghoul’s cock spread you wide open, burying itself up to its hilt inside the soft, squishy confines of your cunt.

“Cooper,” you breathed, inhaling and exhaling more rapidly. You dug your nails into your palms as your cheek was slammed straight down onto the table, the Ghoul holding you resolutely by the head. He steadily pumped into you, rolling his hips hard with every thrust.

“Don’t think I heard you,” Coop needled, picking up the pace, gaining momentum so as to increase friction, determined to fuck the fire right out of you if he accomplished nothing else. Hell, he hadn’t even warned you. He’d figured there’s no need. You had been rarin’ and ready from the get-go; you just needed a little in the way of “foreplay” to loosen you up.

However, you could not deny the stretch; the feeling of fullness; the tingle that traveled from the cusp of your navel all the way down to the throb between your legs, the Ghoul’s long, deep strokes knocking against your erogenous zone with such precision you doubted you would last for long.

“Stop-don’t—don’t stop,” you whispered, unable to elevate the sound of your voice, every drive of his cock into you stealing more of your breath away. He was kind enough to let up off your face after he was sure he had you secured, nowhere for you to go between his dick and the table.

The Ghoul snickered as he dredged you backward, over and over, using the flesh around your middle as handlebars, balls flouncing against the underside of your mound. Then, he reached one arm around, gripping you by the chin; he toyed with you, running his bare thumb across your bottom lip, skimming your teeth.

“Didn’t figure I would.”

You gave a little huff, twisting your wrists against your bindings; the Ghoul glanced down and chuckled, “just gonna have to make-do.”

You pushed backward in response, your ass cheeks flush against his thighs. You brought a gasp to your own lips, feeling a tiny flare of pain as his cock nearly brushed against your cervix.

“Not fair,” you complained,” can’t touch you, kiss you,” you said, suddenly coming to terms with the fact that you wanted to. Your fingers waggled arbitrarily behind you as you floundered in reaching for him, though the Ghoul slowly slipped his arm down, trailing your breasts, stopping to cop a feel.

“No,” he agreed, “but I sure as hell can.”

You rattled out another disjointed moan, Coop’s fingers tweaking your nipple before his hand vanished back between your legs. It slid past your waist and belly, skirting your thighs, before he grazed your clit, rubbing a pattern as he let up a little, deciding to make you ride it out nice and slow.

“Just like that,” you crooned for him, arching your back, lifting your lumbar region higher the best you could at this angle, nearly slipping when Cooper kicked your feet farther apart with his boot. His free arm scooped you up around your waist in a viselike hold, stringent and rough.

He switched his thumb for his trigger finger, aided by his middle, rotating them together in unison against sensitive nerve-endings, causing you to expel a filthy, debasing sound.

The Ghoul chuckled like a deviant into your hair, his lips pressed firmly to your scalp.

“Coo-Coop—” You bit down on your tongue, the Ghoul’s grip tightening around you, pulling you backward in a poor imitation of a hug. His own teeth bore down on his lower lip, his balls continuing to slap your undercarriage as he was close to blowing his load.

The head of Coop’s prick kept diligently massaging your G-spot, the pressure inside you tantamount to a wellspring of indescribable pleasure, never in your life thinking you’d lock hips with a Ghoul.

“’Bout to make good on that bet, ain’t I?” your captor purred into your ear, whirling those fingers, all the while jouncing into and off of your haunches. Your cunt was slick and saturated in your own wetness; you were so close you could practically taste it.

“Coop! Cooper!” you yelled, the Ghoul keeping his same tempo, only increasing his speed when you called out his name good and proper.

“There’s a good girl, wha’d I tell yo—”

“—No, Coop! Ferals!” you screeched.

Out from a backroom, drawn in by the smell of sex; the clamoring of voices—two shuffling, putrid rovers wearing rags had puttered onto the scene—you getting fucked by one of their ilk as they failed to react for a hairbreadth of a second, your Ghoul ripping his hand up and off you to stretch his arm out across his back.

Strapped to his shoulder was the sawed-off vintage shotgun he always carried—backup, as it were. The Ghoul broke it free of its straps, even as he kept driving it home.

You couldn’t believe it, watching in horror as you were being pushed toward the edge of an orgasm, the sounds that ferals made, with their fried vocal cords, something that would haunt you in your dreams until you made it to your deathbed. They were only a few feet away, coming in from outside, a hole in the wall plenty of room for a body, human or otherwise, to squeeze right through.

“You weren’t invited to this party.” The Ghoul took aim and fired just as you started to cum, the echoes of your lust filling the room as blood, brain, and viscera splattered radially, adding a bit of color to otherwise drab walls.

“Fuck, shit, shit!” you intoned, unable to hold off, even as the second ghoul rasped its anger, its quick, herky movements sending itself in your direction.

With Coop balls deep in your cunt and your hands tied, you were at the mercy of whatever happened next. Luckily, your mother’s hired gun was as good as she’d hoped, sending the other roamer sprawling as your gummy walls tightened, coaxing him to bust his nut.

The Ghoul released his load at the same time he fired off the last of his slugs, unable to control himself, the flex of your cunt so snug, it syphoned out every last drop. He had let go of his concentration once his job was done, spraying down your insides with his infertile sperm.

You both took a breather, Coop lying against your back as you went limp against the table, afraid to let your guard down for if any other ferals decided to show up. He had already tossed the gun, needing a moment to recuperate, assuming you were both in the clear.

You stood there, feeling something warm oozing out of you, then Coop slid lazily down onto his knees, pushing your legs apart wider. You sucked in a breath at the feel of his tongue, the Ghoul endeavoring to eat you out from behind.

You couldn’t keep from trembling, your knees nearly buckling, the Ghoul swallowing his own spunk as he licked a line all the way from your entrance to between your folds, teasing your clit, showing you no quarter.

You made your lewdest sound yet as he sucked your little bud between his lips, the feeling too intense so soon, but that wouldn’t stop him from having his way with you.

Both his hands found your ass cheeks, spreading them for ease of access, the Ghoul’s tongue disappearing somewhere inside your pretty puss. Your whole body stiffened before it relaxed, doing everything in your power not to just fall down flat on top of his face.

It seemed he had already entertained that same idea, for better or worse, the ghoul snatching you around your waist, this time with both arms. He laid back as you came crashing down, having physically coerced you to sit right on his mean, smug mug.

The Ghoul chortled darkly as you struggled to push up and off him, your buttocks smashed up against his forehead while he dined. That snaking, warm organ slipped in and out of you until it found your clit again, paying special attention to that part of you in particular, lapping at it like he would a pre-war ice cream cone.

“Cooper!” you breathed. The man tensed until he realized, this time, his name was an exclamation of you being wholly satisfied. He did not stop, not until you were a convulsing, heaping mess, the only thing you were disappointed with, the fact he didn’t have a nose to hump.

Your wriggling seemed to have tickled some part of his gray matter, not wanting to let go until he had nearly licked you dry was it not for his own saliva. You were panting; exhausted; nothing but a pile of useless flesh and bones by the time he shoved you off, persuading you to roll over onto your back.

You suddenly found yourself to be staring up at a dark sky—the house you occupied barely had a roof left to it.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, intaking large lungful’s of oxygen, trying to regain your equilibrium while you stayed put on the cold, hard ground.

The Ghoul laughed then, straight from his belly, wiping his mouth off on his coat sleeve before both his arms stretched out to either side of his prone form.

“A good time.”

After a few minutes, Coop seemed to come back to himself, fiddling with his junk to stuff himself back inside his trousers. He turned his head to look at you, the joviality having left his voice; he took on a more serious demeanor and tone when he spoke next.

“Now, where were we?”

---

Coop had been decent enough to help you up. He’d even shimmied your pants back around your hips and waist, staring at you like an overconfident ass as he’d fastened the button, but you refused to say a word.

He knew you’d enjoyed yourself, there was no denying it—but now came the hard part. What you didn’t realize, was the deal had been more or less muddled from the start.

“So, I tell you where the caps are and I’m free to go, right?”

The Ghoul was quiet as he surveyed the million granules of sand that lay in all directions, the desert night lit up by thousands of glittering stars. It was pretty like this, he thought. Not a cloud in the sky.

“Stars sure are pretty, aren’t they?” He paused, as if collecting himself. “You know, people used to use stars to navigate, before road maps and compasses. They identified patterns and movements in what they called our ‘celestial sphere.’ Lost art, I reckon. Found their way to all kinds of places; one in particular always stays true north—Polaris’ the name.”

Then, he turned to look at you, his eyes gleaming from underneath the wide brim of his hat.

“And just where are those caps?” he asked, not bothering to answer your question, but instead presenting one of his own, waiting patiently to see just how well-behaved you might wind up now that you’d been laid.

“Not too far from here, buried,” you said, “just outside New Reno about a mile or two, at a homestead with a barn out back.”

“Now, that sounds out of the way to me. Reno’s to the east. We need to be going north—can follow that star I told ya about—and we got a long way to go, thanks to you.”

“Wait, what?” you argued, jerking once more against the rope that bound you, against Coop’s hand that had a hold of your restraints, the Ghoul giving you a cold, crooked smile. He had forced you out here after you’d been made decent, quoting he knew a safe place to hunker down, just up the road, “if you were interested.”

“You’re comin’ with me, sweetheart. Gotta make sure you ain’t tryin’ to play no double-cross—if we’re going for those caps—otherwise, your momma’s out there waitin’ back in Reddin’.”

“But I thought we had a deal!”

“Need collateral—you’re it, rabbit.”

“I swear, they’re there. I’m not a liar!”

“Didn’t peg you for one, but like I said before—can never be too careful.”

You glared at him in disbelief, watching as the Ghoul removed an inhaler from out of his coat pocket. He took a hit of whatever drug, then stepped around to loosen the bit of rope that he had wound about your wrists. Once he had a bit of the excess, he circled back around, wrenching you forward this time, as if you were caught on a leash—a short one at that.

“Hey! I can walk!”

“Best get started, then,” he mused.

“Why?” you demanded, your temper flaring up again, the heat of your blood coloring your cheeks as you flashed your teeth in a snarl. “Why go to all that trouble?! Why lead me on, why fuck me, if you weren’t going to hold up your part of the bargain?”

“Never made a bargain, if you think about it.”

“Then what?” you asked flippantly, staring him down with the most wicked glare that you could muster.

The Ghoul gave you a sidelong glance, arrogant as ever, adjusting his hat so that it fit snug against his skull.

“That’s what they call ‘gettin’ sidetracked’.”

---

Fallout Masterlist

#The Ghoul #Fallout #The Ghoul Fallout #Fallout TV #Cooper Howard #The Ghoul x You #The Ghoul x Reader #Cooper Howard x Reader #Cooper Howard x You #x you #x reader #fem reader #my writing #if you like cad bane you'll like this guy xD #hancock is still my favorite though <3

74 notes · View notes