#I will not tag this as ooc but I do not have a writing tag jkfd | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cubeshapedlemon · 6 hours

Text

Atomic Baby

You, a wastelander are captured by an unfortunate group of men, your knight in dusty leather does more for you than you originally thought he would.

☆ ☆ ☆

Cooper Howard/ The Ghoul x f!reader

6.2k words

cw & tags: general smut, piv, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), cannon typical violence, unwanted (implied) sexual advances(not by cooper), brief alcohol use, use of pet names, heavy flirting, cannon typical drug use

☆ ☆ ☆

authors note: this is my first fallout fic! im hoping to write more! (check out my pinned post for more info) and my first nsfw one so i hope you enjoy. Tbh there are some moments where he is slightly ooc, just kinder than in cannon but whatever. There is a large possibility that this could become a multi-chapter at some point but it can 100% be read free standing. please reblog if you wish but do not repost or translate anywhere without my permission. anyway thank you! and let me know if you notice any mistakes or something i missed in the tags!

Waking up to three weaselly looking men looming over you with a rather sharp looking hatchet, not the best thing ever. Your little camp seeming to be ransacked already, you glare up. The one who seems to be the leader of their little group ties a rough length of rope to your wrists as the other two rifle through your bag. Hauling you up they force you to start waking.

The scorching hot sun beams down on your shoulders as you walk.The irradiated heat of the wasteland is never forgiving, especially not recently; even at night it’s been like sleeping in an oven.

☆ ☆ ☆

Walking, endless walking. It has already been about an hour or so since your capture. The winds picking up, trapping your lungs with dusty red soil. Phlegmy coughs and chortles follow behind you. At least they aren't at your side anymore, for the first half hour or so they would take turns shoulder checking you… or spitting at you… or tripping you… really anything those dirty bastards could think of. At this point their boredom with you is really coming to your advantage.

The greasy men are probably hoping to sell you or your organs for a few caps. Either one, not fantastic. Soil kicks up around you, forceful wind driving you to trudge forward with more effort. Glancing down at your wrists you start to feel some relief, the knot binding your wrists getting looser by the second. The dumb bastards clearly were no eagle scouts, their poor attempt at a knot slowly unfurling as you walk.

Looking forward again you have some hope. A dinghy looking town ahead of you. Walking closer and closer you see something in the town? Someone? Oh thank the lord someone. Maybe there is hope for you after all, I mean just weighing the odds, what are the chances that this random person is also chomping at the bit for some extra caps? Thinking about it now, they probably are. Well, a small chance is better than no chance.

Unraveling the last of the rope you propel yourself forward, running desperately. Your life -quite literally- depends on it. Your captors quickly realize and start chasing after you, you race forward, sights pinned on the figure in front of you.

Stopping yourself just quickly enough, you slam into the figure, making them stumble back slightly. “Now what in the-” the accented baritone voice of the person says. Grasping onto the lapels of his jacket you stare up desperately begging,

“Please help me sir, these guys captured me. I think they're going to sell me or something!”

The man looks up for a moment, staring at the men just a few seconds away before looking back down at you, “What's in it for me doll?” he says, smirking down.

“Just please!” a short chuckle erupts from his chest, placing a hand on your waist he pushes you behind him.

“I gotcha, just stay behind me.” Your captors slow to a stop, attempting to catch their breath; one of the goons is the first to attempt speech through all the heavy breathing.

“Give her back, we found ‘er first.” He says in a whiny tone, clearly not the brightest bulb.

“Now why would I want to do that?”

“Well… uh” he struggles to find the words, dumbly looking to his superior.

“Well what? Cat got yer’ tongue?”

The ring leader is the next to speak, lips parting in a sneer, revealing a mouth full of rotten teeth. “Finders keepers ghoul. It's rare you see a pretty little thing like her these days… thought we'd sell ‘er. Caps are hard to come by. You understand.”

“Well, I can't deny she is quite the looker,” the ghoul says, looking to his side over at you, eyes grazing over your face before looking up, staring holes through the head of the man in front. “But in terms of the ‘finders keepers’ I'm going to have to dispute that fellas’. You see… i'm not really in the business of sharin’ and she seems to have found me,'' he laughs, hand going to his holster, “so i'm keepin’.”

Between the effort of running and the ghoul's comment your face is quite warm. The tension between him and the men rises every millisecond. Praying that the ghoul is a reliable shot seems to be your only hope as the group gets more irritated by the second. The leader goes to speak again, clearly not taking the hand-on-the-holster hint from the ghoul.

“I don't think so-” he says, drawing his pistol. The ghoul, already prepared, fires off a shot, beating him to his own, a bullet landing in the man’s shoulder. The leader stumbles, being taken to one knee. The goons caught by surprise go to draw their own guns, before another warning shot fires off, grazing the cheek of one.

Taking the hint, they drop their guns, hands held shakily as they lower to themselves to kneel on the ground. Clearly not wanting to take any chances. The ghoul walks over to the leader, the barrel of his gun pressed into the man's chin, forcing him to look up. The ghoul grins sarcastically.

“Well I know so. Now, why don't you pick your dusty ass up and get you, and your little…” He looks back at the two other men, “fanclub, outta’ here while I take care of that fine piece of ass you so helpfully lead into my arms.” He holsters his gun again, reaching into his pocket for a moment, “Some caps for your troubles.” he says, dropping a few caps on the ground before turning around and walking back to you.

“I- thank you.” you say dumbly, looking up at the ghoul.

“Don't thank me sweetheart,” he says, scanning your body for injuries. His eyes lock on a laceration on your arm before looking back at you. “Let's get you stitched up now,” he says with a tone you can't quite place. You lift your arm to look at the wound for a moment, must've gotten it at some point during the walk.

Looking back up, the ghoul has already walked past you, most likely expecting you to follow as he heads towards a building a few meters away. Quickly you move to follow him, eager to get away from your former captors.

☆ ☆ ☆

You watch awkwardly as he rummages for a needle and thread, finally finding some, he threads the needle, Sitting down on the only chair available. He looks up expectantly with a barely-there smirk.

“Well, come take your seat doll,” he says, patting his thigh. “That there won't stitch itself,” he says nodding to your arm. A heat once again rises to your face as you shuffle over, sitting down on his knee, the wound facing him as your legs are thrown across his lap. You attempt to focus on the wall ahead of you, ignoring the fact that this is the only welcome touch you've had in a while.

Soon you have something else to focus on as the most definitely not sterile needle pierces your skin. You look over your shoulder at the man, his hat tipped back lazily as he pinches the needle through his thumb and forefinger. A whip stitch quickly binding the laceration. He ties a knot before snapping the extra thread off with a nip of his teeth.

He grasps you at the waist and under your knees, standing, while setting your feet on the ground. “I believe that's all. ‘Should be able to gather enough things here to get you on your way,” he says, walking to the door.

“Wait! Could I come with you? I don't have much, but I could help you in some way... Carry supplies, cook, something,” you say, not ready to be alone quite yet. He gives an almost genuine smile, facing you again.

“Well I don't find myself in need of a pack mule. I'll be on my way ma'am.” he replies, tipping his hat before walking out, seeming to already have his next location in mind. He walks confidently, out of the town into the infinite desert ahead.

☆ ☆ ☆

After gathering a decent amount of supplies in the surrounding buildings you stand in the middle of town absolutely stumped. There is nothing for you in this abandoned town you find yourself in and it's not like you've had the best track record with setting up your own camp recently.

Wandering around a little more you find yourself where you met your knight in dusty leather. The other men now long gone, you stoop down and collect the things they left. Lucky for you they pretty much dropped everything they had, undoubtedly wanting to get away from the ghoul as quickly as possible.

Picking through their supplies you find that they left their guns and a decent amount of ammo, as you attach the holster to your belt you notice some strange little bottles; about four of them. Tiny cylindrical vials filled with a clear yellow-green liquid. Well, chems are chems you think to yourself, stuffing them inside a first aid kit you found inside one of the buildings.

After nosing around the supplies a bit more you decide you don't want anything else. What to do now…

Well, making your own camp is out of the question for now. You could follow the ghoul, he seems to be a decent survivalist, and the safest person you've interacted with in months. You could stay just behind him, he won't even notice. Just until he passes a more substantial settlement. Or you decide on somewhere else to go.

Deciding on that as a decent course of action, you follow the path marked by his footsteps. The sun is starting to get lower in the sky at this point, it's important to start moving before dusk falls.

☆ ☆ ☆

You have been following the ghoul's path for about two days now, trailing behind him. Being just close enough to where you can see when he settles down for the night, taking it as a sign to wind down as well.

As day two starts to end you see him in the distance, he starts to set up his camp for the night so you do too. Two days completely filled with travel can really take a lot out of a person, you soon welcome the sleep that takes you.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Well, hello there little lady.” you hear a familiar voice say, spooking you awake. Your eyes open to be greeted by the face of your savior from a few days ago. He's standing over you, eyes boring into yours. “Now what do you think you're doin’. Following me around these past few days, thinkin’ I wouldn't notice.”

“I- I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, I just didn't know where to go… and I figured following behind you would be a safe bet. Just until we passed another settlement! That's all I swear!” You rush to speak, trying to rationalize your thinking to him.

“Is that so? Well I hate to break it to ya’ darlin’ but the next town is about a 3 day walk away,” he informs, standing back to his full height before stepping away. You groan, rubbing your face forcefully in frustration. What the hell are you supposed to do now? Sitting up, you lazily start to collect your things.

Taking your sweet time, you scoot towards where you had placed your pack for the night. Leisurely taking a sip of water and a bite of some jerky you snagged in town. Now you really had to think about what you were going to do. You doubt he would let you continue following him, and clearly he had some 6th sense for this type of thing so secretly doing it isn't in the cards.

“Get yer’ ass up! We're burnin’ daylight out here.” the ghoul yells. Confused, you whip your head around to look at him. He walks towards you.

“What?” you say stupidly.

“We need to get a move on,” he states, squatting down to meet your eye level. “If we move at your glacial pace we'll never get there.” he remarks sarcastically. Standing once again he goes to collect the last of his things, yelling to you again, “Now! and I ain't carryin’ any of your shit so don't even think about bitchin’ about it.”

With a huff, you stand dusting yourself off before grabbing your pack and trailing behind the ghoul.

☆ ☆ ☆

The first day of travel was mostly uneventful, walking, walking, and even more… walking. Though you quickly learn that he doesn't talk much. And he walks quite fast. While you were certainly an effective and efficient walker, you were still left in the dust.

One of his large strides was equivalent to about one and a half of yours. Walking behind someone for miles is not exactly the most engaging activity, but it gave you plenty of time to think. And oh boy did your mind have some things to say.

As you walk your mind starts to wander. ‘my view of him from behind wasn't all that bad,’ you think to yourself. ‘He walks with a confidence that would make anyone quake in their boots, including me. Just possibly in a different way.’

By the end of the day you were spent. Sitting down by the fire, the sun finally setting, eating whatever scraps had been left over in your bag. Not exactly the most exciting dinner in the world, but in this day and age boring and uneventful is a blessing.

It's l quite awkward, sitting across from him. He has such an intense gaze. The exquisite hazel of his eyes is something so uncommon, especially for a ghoul. He seems to be doing well for himself, as close as one can be in the wasteland that is. But with that it makes the feeling ever stronger.

The way he bores his eyes into you makes you feel like he can hear everything you have been thinking all day.

Looking at you like you're something to eat.

☆ ☆ ☆

The second day seems to be turning into much of the same. Infinitely more walking ahead of you. Though there is something different in the air today, something new that you can't quite place.

As you look past him you hope you can see anything different, anything new. At this point you would celebrate for a tumbleweed. Though there is still much to think about.

You come to realize how little you truly know about your traveling partner. I mean, you met him not even a week ago and now you've committed to a good bit more time with him and you don't even know his name. He hasn't spoken much to you since your journey started, or really at all that you can remember.

What a shame. His voice is something that continues to echo through you. His deep baritone with that saccharine accent. While he doesn't talk much, it really is a treat when he does. When it comes to the short conversations he has with you, you can't help but get giddy at the pet names he calls you.

Now that you think about it, he doesn't know your name either. Quickening your steps you catch up to walk next to him. Looking up you see him eye you suspiciously. Suddenly feeling a bit insecure you look back down. Who are you to think that he would want to speak with you? Well, what the hell, why not?

“Hey!” you say, attempting to sound casual, failing horribly. Sparing you some embarrassment, he doesn't seem to react at all, eyes directed forward. “I was just wondering, it's probably stupid, you don't have to answer obviously. But uh, you know what? Never mind. Sorry.”

Wow, really smooth. Admitting defeat you slow your pace back to your normal one, starting to fall behind him once again; that is, until a leather-clad hand finds itself on your hip. Rushing you to once again, meet his steps.

“Just spit it out babydoll, if we're gonna’ be stuck together, I suppose you can get a question or two,” he conceded. His hand pulls back to his side, a bit leisurely crossing the small of your back. Not that you were going to complain, a welcome shiver running through you.

“Well, I was going to ask your name.” That seems to have gotten his attention, his head turning so he can fully look at you now. His eyes roving over your face as if looking for a lie.

“My name? That's what you want to know?”

“I mean… yeah? I just thought if we were traveling together I should know what to call you,” you explain, once again feeling insecure. He turns his head forward once again, an unreadable expression taking over his face.

“Is that so?” Understanding this to be rhetorical, you stay silent, deciding instead to focus on walking.

Quite soon though, you find yourself stopping. While the sun is getting lower in the sky, normally you would have another hour or so until you would start to settle down. Confused, you turn to ask; He beats you to it.

“There's some decent huntin’ and some clean water 'round here. Stay and set up house.” Wordlessly you nod, placing your bag on the ground. You walk a few meters away, collecting some sticks for a fire as you hear his heavy footfalls go in the opposite direction.

☆ ☆ ☆

Just as the sun starts to set, and you finally get a decent fire going you see your partner walking towards you. Some sort of meat that he already seems to have butchered in his hand.

“Darlin’ would you cook this up,” He says, not really waiting for an answer, handing you the game. “I have got to get off my feet.” He goes and settles down, resting his back against a large rock in the general vicinity of the fire. Rummaging through his bag he grabs out a small vial, identical to the ones you snagged days previously. He attaches it to what looks to be a repurposed Jet inhaler, taking a hit.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Quit your starin’,” he hollers. Taking the hint, you avert your gaze and spear the meat onto an extra stick.

The meat roasts somewhat unevenly but who can complain at this point? While doing the mindless task you can't help but look up at him. Still leaning up against the rock his head is back now, dusty cowboy hat tipped over his eyes. He really is quite handsome. Ghoul's don't exactly get the best rap when it comes to anything, especially looks. You decide that people would change their minds if they met him.

Looking down again towards your work you decide it looks done enough. Separating just over half of it you place it onto a handkerchief, walking it over to him, placing it on his lap. He goes to move his hat back, giving you a nod before you go back to your spot across from him, the heat of his gaze following you.

Sitting down you prepare for another silent dinner. Digging into your food, you hear him clear his throat, causing you to look up. “Cooper,” he says, “Cooper Howard.” You smile, a real genuine smile, giving him your name as well. A small grin finds its way to his face. So subtle you almost missed it. There was truly something in the air today.

☆ ☆ ☆

Waking up the following day you feel like shit. Clean water has been pretty sparse causing your head to pound like a drum. Sure there was some clean water near here but even the idea of standing up sounded unappealing. Deciding it’s best to get it over with sooner rather than later you sit up.

You start to dig through your pack trying to find your canteen with no success. Confused, you look around, still no canteen. “Cooper?” you yell, not seeing him in the immediate vicinity either.

“What is it, doll?” He yells back, coming into your field of view, strutting as always.

“Oh thank the gods. For a second I thought you left me behind,” you sigh with relief.

“Now why would I do that?” A sarcastic tone infesting his speech. Rolling your eyes, you speak again.

“Have you seen my canteen anywhere? I can't find it. Thought I'd refill it with the clean water you were talking about last night,” you add, standing up and dusting yourself off. Cooper responds by reaching into the pocket inside his jacket, pulling out your canteen and shaking it. The sound of fresh water splashing inside.

Unscrewing the cap he walks up to you, so close you two are almost chest to chest. “Drink up,” he says, lifting it, waiting, like he expected something. And who are you to deny his expectations? Lifting your gaze from the container to the depths of his eyes you open your mouth obediently. He rewards you with a slight smirk, tipping the opening towards your lips.

Despite the increasing tension between you, you are genuinely thirsty. You gulp down the water desperately between heaving breaths. Seeing that you had gotten enough, he screws the cap back on, wiping away a leftover drop on your lip with his thumb.

“Well ain't you just a prize,” he remarks, so quietly you think he didn't mean for you to hear it. With an almost imperceptible smile on his face he steps away, “ You better start gettin’ a move on little lady. If we walk fast enough we can get to town by supper.” You watch for a second as he grabs his bag, throwing it over his shoulder.

Shaking the leftover tension you do the same, the idea of sleeping in a real bed tonight pushing you forward.

☆ ☆ ☆

Unfortunately, the heat truly has been overwhelming today. Notably, Cooper has slowed down just enough to match your pace today. Maybe you're truly starting to crack that hard outer shell he keeps himself in.

After about an hour of you fanning yourself, tying your hair up, then taking it down and putting it up in a different way you give up. Deciding that you would rather just be scorched than fiddle with your clothes or hair every fifteen seconds.

Soon after you come to this decision, Cooper silently lifts his hat off of himself, placing it on your head. The slight shade of the brim gives you some relief from the unending heat. Gratefully, you look up at him, he doesn't seem to think his action is anything of interest. His eyes still facing forward, face still pulled into a permanent scowl.

You look back down, “Thank you,” you say absentmindedly.

“Don't mention it,” he replies, his tone flat. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you for the rest of your travels. Every once and a while you would sneak an admiring glance or two. A few times you could swear you felt his gaze on you, but of course you have no proof of that.

☆ ☆ ☆

After several hours of travel you and Cooper find yourself in a rather nice little town. Nice for a town in the wasteland, that is, not that you can complain. Looking around you see several amenities, a decent looking saloon, a trading post, and a shabby motel being the ones that catch your eye.

You suspect that Cooper is more relieved than he is letting on, taking a deep breath, he allows himself a moment to take it in. “Come on now, let's get a room,�� he says, stealing his hat off of you, placing it on his head once again. Both of you eager, you head to the desk of the motel.

Not caring to speak to anyone, as you two walk in Cooper silently drops a handful of caps onto the desk, grabbing a random key (and its spare) from the wall with the other hand as he does. You give a respectful nod to the person behind the desk before swiftly following him.

After passing a few rooms, your traveling partner looks down, matching the number on the key to the one on the door. Unlocking it, you are greeted by a could-be-better room. But who has time to complain? It's a place to rest your head and keep out of the elements.

“While all this is nice and all, I need a drink,” Cooper declares, setting down his bag and grabbing some caps out of one of the pouches.

“Ok, I think I'm going to get myself cleaned up here first, I'll meet you in a few.” making a sound of acknowledgement, Cooper leaves, tossing you the extra key, the sound of the lock clicking into place as the door closes.

Sure there wasn't anything fancy like running water here but they were kind enough to have a bottle of talc and a rag in the bathroom. Gratefully, you clean yourself up as much as you can before heading to the saloon.

☆ ☆ ☆

Walking in, you scan the room. It's packed with all kinds of people, all jabbering on with their own group, all sipping their alcohol of dubious origin, not that you can complain, you're about to do the same thing. Looking around again, closer this time. Looking for a specific ghoul. There he is.

He sat himself at a small booth, a round table in front of him. An empty glass -presumably his own- set atop. His legs are spread lazily, the brim of his hat creating a shadow over his eyes. It truly is despicable how beautiful he is.

Snapping yourself out of what is probably a desperate looking stare, you head over to the bar. You dig out enough caps from your pockets for two of whatever cheap whiskey you could get your hands on. “Two of whatever's cheapest,” you say leaning over the bartop, dropping enough caps for both, plus tip, on the counter. Nodding, the barkeep collects two glasses, pouring with a rather heavy hand, before handing them to you and snatching the caps.

You look over to where Cooper is once more; he's looking at you now, an intense indescribable air around him. You fight to not smirk at the fact that you caught him staring, you grab the drinks and head over to his table, challenging him with your continued eye contact. “Now where have you been all my life?” you hear an unfamiliar whiny voice say. Instantly your mood is ruined, with a scowl you turn towards the voice. It belongs to a plain looking man, a much too confident smirk on his face.

“As far away from you as I could manage,” you quip, rolling your eyes and making your way to your table. Hearing him get up from his chair, following in your direction you turn to face him again. “I'm here with someone don't even try,” you warn, though of course he doesn't take the message.

“Well I don't see him ‘round here,”

“You sure you don't?” You hear that familiar accented voice say behind you while wrapping his arm around your waist. Cooper stares down the man in front of you.

“A ghoul?” the man says, looking up towards him briefly before continuing his eye contact with you. “I can fuck you better than a goddamn ghoul I'll promise you that. You make that switch I'll show you a good time,” the man claims, stalking towards you with a dangerous leer on his face.

“Oh, I guarantee you can't,” Cooper gloats, flashing the gun at his side. Without a second thought he grasps your jaw firmly, turning your head to face him and he locks his lips with yours. Taken aback, it takes you a moment to kiss him back, but he quickly deepens the kiss. He runs his tongue on the seam of your lips. You quickly obey, opening your mouth to the welcome intrusion. With how intense the kiss became you couldn't help but let out a whimper, which he rewards with a firm squeeze of your waist.

You separate after what seems like an eternity, Cooper looking at the man in front of you. “Betcha’ believe it now don't ya'?” he smirks, leading you back to the booth. He grabs both of your drinks, setting them down on the table before sitting down. Feeling some confidence after what just transpired, you sit down on his lap, one of his legs settled between yours. Teasing a bit, you shift your hips against his a few times as if settling in.

“You keep doin’ that you're gonna get yourself in trouble,” he warns, grabbing and handing you your drink before shooting back his own. With a smile you lean back, resting against him.

“I'm ok with trouble,” you tease, taking a sip of your drink. Making a sound of contentment, Cooper runs his hand up your thigh, squeezing as his hand trails close to where you truly need him. You let out an unintentional whine at this, attempting to cover it up with a hefty gulp of your drink.

“Are you know? Well trouble is what I got darlin’,” he claims, bouncing his leg that you are perched on. His thigh rubbing deliciously on you. “Just say the word.” Finding all the sensations to be far too much you give in to his teasing. Rocking your hips back on him again you bring your lips to his neck, kissing up slowly, ending on his jaw.

“Please.”

Releasing a satisfied groan he gives you a relatively chaste kiss compared to earlier, he adjusts you and sets your feet on the ground, pulling you and him up to stand. “Lead the way pretty girl,” he purrs, delivering a swift smack to your ass as you scramble to get to your room.

☆ ☆ ☆

As soon as the door is closed and locked behind you two, you are forced against a wall. Clearly attempting to keep some sort of control over himself Cooper takes a deep breath. “Darlin’ I'm serious, you ain't gettin’ rid of me after this. You sure you want this? just say so and I’ll leave.” The pathetically desperate look in his eyes makes you even more eager to give him your answer

“Please Coop, I need you.”

Not needing any further confirmation, he once again locks his lips with yours. Opening your mouth right away, the kiss deepens quickly, both of you desperate to get a taste of each other. Cooper rips off his leather gloves, needing to feel you on him directly. That still not being enough, he paws at your top roughly, pushing it up. Parting for a moment he pulls it over your head, unclasping and removing your bra just after.

“Well ain't you the prettiest little thing,” he breathes, running his hands up your body to cup your tits. Stooping down, he sucks a dark bruise into the side of one, looking satisfied with himself as he does so.

“Coop,” you whine, starving for more. He falls completely to his knees now, delicately taking off your boots, eye contact steady.

He next moves to unbutton your jeans. He moves frustratingly slow, clearly enjoying your huffs of annoyance. Pulling off your pants and underwear in one, he grabs your hips harshly, pushing them into the wall. Without delay, he places your thighs over his shoulders, diving into your core like it's his last meal. He runs his tongue from your entrance to your clit, sucking it into his mouth harshly before releasing. Desperate for more, he plunges his tongue inside you once again.

The sudden intrusion forces a deep groan out of you. In need of a perch, you wrap your hand harshly around the back of his neck, knocking his hat off in the process. “You are just about the sweetest thing I've ever tasted,” he coos, placing a messy kiss on your inner thigh.

“Cooper, please. I need you,” you beg, desiring everything he can give you.

“Well I can't say no to that, can I?” he jokes, wrapping your legs around him as he stands. Holding you by your waist he makes his way to the bed. He swiftly tosses you atop, you bounce slightly, watching as he stalks towards you with an indescribable hunger. The heat of his stare intense, you desperately clench around nothing.

Kneeling on the bed now, Cooper runs his fingers through your folds, your wetness coating them. Slowly, he works a single finger inside of you, thrusting it in and out. “Fuck- Coop,” you moan, blinded by pleasure. He works another finger in, continuing the same pace, curling his fingers to hit that perfect spot every time. Working you open, preparing you for what was next.

“Good girl, so desperate for me, just a bitch in heat.” Lacking the proper brain function to respond, you whimper at his comment. Your eyes rolling back in pleasure. “Oh you like that don't you? You like being my needy little thing. The little slut I get to use.” his pace increases, fingers rubbing immaculately inside of you. The low buzz at the bottom of your stomach beginning to bloom, your hips unconsciously bucking down to meet his thrusts.

“Please, please please,” you beg, not quite knowing what you're begging for.

“I gotcha’ doll. Let go,” he assures, moving his thumb to rub quick circles on your clit. As if commanded, you let go right away. The pressure inside of you bursting with a moan, hips bucking wildly out of your control. Clenching desperately around his fingers. “That's it… that's my girl.” Your body comes down after a few seconds more, thighs twitching with the residual energy. Cooper delicately removes his fingers from you, a small whimper of overstimulation coming from you.

Placing them in his mouth, he laps up any of you he can get. “Sweet as honey, you are,” he teases. Letting out a breathy laugh at his comment, you fist your hand on his collar, pulling him in. The kiss is passionate, tasting yourself on him only spurs you on further. Your other hand trails down his body, finding the tent in his pants you give a teasing rub. His hips stutter forward briefly, making you smile into the kiss.

Your nimble fingers undo the button on his pants, the zipper following. Breaking the kiss you look up at him, silently asking for permission. Giving you a short nod, Cooper further pushes himself into you, bordering on grinding at this point. With a grin you take him out of his pants. You give a few experimental tugs, feeling the weight of him in your palm. His hips stutter again, “You better quit your teasin’ ‘fore I make you.” As enticing as that sounds, you listen. You rub him against you a few times before lining him up with your entrance.

Slowly, he starts to push in, your heat inviting him in. “F-fuck,” he whimpers, pausing for a moment. “I'm sorry baby, you just feel so good.” Pushing in farther, he bottoms out. He grinds into you, desperate to get as deep as he can.

“Please, Coop, please move,” you whimper out.

“You are so pretty when you beg. You will be the death of me darlin’,” he says, pulling out about halfway before slamming back in. He quickly sets a brutal pace, hips slamming into you quickly and harshly. The low buzz in your stomach quickly returns, every ridge of him rubbing deliciously inside of you. It's not long before you become a puddle of whines and moans, the low buzz bursting once more, stars exploding behind your vision.

His pace does not falter, his hips still moving at the same brutal pace. In fact, he finds this the perfect opportunity to start rubbing quick circles on your clit. Anything he can do to get you to go, needy to see it again.

“Come on now, you can do it one more time for me can't you?” not believing it can happen so soon again, you shake your head, pathetic whines falling from your lips. “Yes you can, come on. I'll follow right behind. One more for me, pretty girl,” he assures, his tone starting to sound as whiny as yours. The next one comes up faster than the others, beginning already so close to the precipice.

“Fuck, Coop im going to-”

“I know sweetheart, let go, come for me.” Your body takes that command wholeheartedly, you lock your legs around his hips, forcing him deeper as you fall over your precipice, his pace truly faltering, thrusts now short and sloppy. “Fuck, darlin’ im gonna’,” he attempts to say.

“I know,” you say between whimpers of his name. Before long he joins you in bliss, filling you to the brim.

He rests his head on your shoulder briefly, pulling out after a moment and righting himself in his clothes. Rolling over onto the bed moments after. Cooper tiredly pulls you against him, not a care in the world at the moment. To be honest you didn't either. The Rad-Away would just have to wait.

#cooper howard #fallout #fallout tv series #cooper howard x reader #fallout fanfic #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x f!reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul #cooper howard fanfiction #the ghoul fanfic

89 notes · View notes

padfootastic · 7 months

Text

if you’re writing james & sirius in a way that atleast one person doesn’t ask ‘are those two dating’ then sorry but that’s actually two random OCs with familiar names

#sirius black #james potter #i am having all the thoughts tonight aren’t i #but this is just canon tbh #i’m reading a james/remus fic where r asks j if him and s are together #and it hit me. how right thwt felt.#every new person (and some old) need to do that #bc u never know #bc they’re closer than actual partners #but yeah #this is a litmus test for writing accurate james & sirius #if u care ab that sort of thing ofc #if not—go wild but use the ooc tag #mighty helpful that one #anyway yeah i’ll take my leave now #pen’s notes #edit: just saw that the fic is from 2015 and suddenly it all makes sense

253 notes · View notes

mi1kbomb · 2 years

Text

tsukasa loves showing off i think he would also like to show off how strong he is in the form of carrying rui

#ruikasa #project sekai #project sekai fanart #ruikasa fanart #bruh i almost tagged this as en//stars #im addicted to gay rhythm games now #literally at my lowest #i keep having dreams about gay idols too #i even started telling my sister about all their traumatic backstories #she actively listens #hc rui gets flustered whenever tsukasa openly shows him affection and tsukasa just keeps doing it because he likes seeing rui flustered #im this close to writing my own fanfic guys.#my art #wxs #wonderlands x showtime #id like to add on to the hc. tsukasa is dumb so he doesnt actually know WHY rui gets flustered but he keeps doing it anyway #a little ooc. but this is no longer colopale's game #its mine now

1K notes · View notes

kazumist · 10 months

Text

THE WAY THINGS GO .ᐟ

✩ — being petty with each other is simple how the way things go between you and your boyfriend, itoshi sae.

✩ — includes: itoshi sae x gn!reader. fluff. cw: ooc sae (bear with me i havent read bllk in a while and just wanted to give it a shot). wc: 395. reblogs and feedback are appreciated !! ouhhh first time actually writing for bllk,, i dont rlly feel good abt this one but i hope this was ok

during the ten months, six days, and thirty-two minutes that itoshi sae has spent with you, he only found out now that you were actually a big fat liar.

"did you eat my snacks?"

"uhm, no?"

"you don't sound sure about that."

sae wasn't necessarily a fan of sweets (which you found quite despicable of him; who wouldn't love at least a bit of sweets every once in a while?) but there's one snack that you did manage to get him fond of—hello panda biscuits.

it wasn't too sweet, nor was it too bland either; it was perfect for sae's taste. unfortunately for him, you were also a fan of those snacks. which brings you to the confrontation that's taking place now—because apparently, the hello panda biscuits you had in stock ran out just when sae was about to eat them again.

lying wasn't the best choice; of course it isn't, but you were curious to see how sae would react once he found out that you (accidentally) ate the last pack. there are three outcomes for this:

a.) sae lets this slide and just buys another box.

b.) sae will act petty around you until you get him another box (most likely to happen).

c.) sae moves on with his life and acts like it didn't happen at all.

much to your dismay, none of these happened. there was, in fact, a fourth outcome that you weren't able to consider: sae gets his revenge on you by eating up all your snacks as well. going to the living room, you stood in front of him with a hand on your hip.

"you ate it, didn't you?"

"ate what?"

"sae, don't act dumb on me."

he raises an eyebrow at you, acting like he has no clue what you're saying. after a few attempts at pressing him about it (all failed; he just wouldn't admit it), you soon gave up and were about to leave the room before sae pulled you onto his lap.

"do you really think being affectionate is going to make me forgive you?"

"i didn't say anything when you ate my hello panda biscuits."

"so you did know about that."

"you aren't really the best at lying, you know?" he replies, pressing small kisses onto your neck.

"let's just go buy some more snacks later."

"i like the sound of that."

#( writings )#blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk x reader #bllk #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae #HOW DO U TAG STUFF IN THIS FANDOM #ok ngl this is very messy and i wrote this one on a whim #and tbh this was supposed to be an angst drabble but i couldnt think of anything angsty for sae BOOOOOO TOMATO TOMATO #so have a petty and ooc sae instead :3

369 notes · View notes

aithusarosekiller · 2 months

Text

This is on my tiktok but I wanted to post it here too bc it's really been bugging me

The caption essentially said that if I see a characterisation I don't like (I used the example of big buff alpha remus) I just scroll because clearly the content was made for someone else and I'm not the target audience

#let people have different interpretations #let out of character fics exist #there's no one right way to write and view a character #if someone wants to throw out canon and write their own interpretation that is AMAZING #if someone wants to explore what one change (such as the black cousins being in an abusive household) could have on the story LET THEM #stop crushing the creativity of young teens because you can't have fun #marauders era #marauders #mwpp #feel kind of bad tagging this with all the fandom tags I'm sorry :/ I just wanted to get it out there #to show people who do write 'ooc' interpretations thay that is FINE #and most people are SO PROUD that you're able to explore and share that creativity with us #dldr #DON'T LIKE DON'T READ #remember that?#there's nothing wrong with liking canon characterisation but you don't have to be a dick about it #you don't have to force it onto everyone around you #they're allowed to make their own versions up #dead gay wizards #id feel so bad putting ship or character tags #bc that's not the content ppl on the tags wanna see so I won't

43 notes · View notes

raytm · 1 month

Text

I’m sorry all I do is yap about my muses but I will do it again !!! And again and again !!! 😔🙌🎤💯

#I’m always thinking about them always talking about them !!!!#I do have my ooc tag but like #I’m here 2 vibe and chat and #also write but like #IF U DONT WANNA YAP DONT !!! plonk ur ass down here bc this is yapping central

22 notes · View notes

ask-the-totally-real-peppino · 11 months

Text

(*Smashes through the door* I have finished the thing

I did lose steam part of the way through, so the ending is a little tepid, but I think it's still cute, hehe

Basically, this is 'Pep experiences fireworks for the first time and it is not fun'

Content warnings for: Depiction of a panic attack, self-harm (unintentional but still), descriptions of body horror, (sorta) flashback to war, an implied gun, and Peppino says fuck

Okay enjoy! (1,403 words under dere!!!)

It was busy.

Busier than usual.

Unusual for a Tuesday, but Pep didn't mind. He was more than happy to create and share his pizzas with others. But all the extra business aside, something else was unusual today, and Pep could not stop tasting it.

There was a constant saltiness to Peppino, most likely due to how much the man sweat, but the ever-growing pungency of raw onions and black pepper began to give his doppelgänger cause for concern. Was it just the amount of people visiting today? Was something going to happen? Pep did not know, but the thoughts caused his own anxieties to start bubbling in his chest. He chose not to ask, instead continuing on with helping Peppino close up shop for the evening.

The sky was very pretty at this time. Oranges, pinks and purples, as the sun said goodbye for today. Pep liked to watch the colours shift and change into deeper blues and indigos, but it didn't feel right today. He lifted his head from his arms, parts of where his chin and forearms began to merge getting pulled apart, and looked at the door of Peppino's room. It was made quite clear early on not to disturb him when the door was closed, and Pep respected his space, despite the gnawing urge to knock on his door. The clone gave a quiet huff, again noting the taste of pepper and onions, and… Something bitter…? Oh, cilantro… Yuck. Pep hadn't figured out what that taste was for Peppino yet, but it certainly wasn't a pleasant one. His eyes rolled in their sockets for a moment, trying to recall memories of cilantro. He thought back to just a few hours ago - Peppino did seem hesitant to say goodbye to Gustavo and Brick… Was it something to do with them?

Pep didn't have much time to ponder, as a shrill sound pierced through his thoughts, shattering them with a BANG. He was suddenly on high alert, skin inhumanely stretched up into points along his back and shoulders. There was another screeeeeech, and a BANG. His chest heaved as simulated breath grew tight in his non-existent lungs. And another. His nails dug into the windowsill, the black colouring beginning to spiral up his fingers. And another. Pep's vision started to blur as his eyeballs melted in his form of crying, but he could still see with every boom, colours flashed and danced outside. Was this some sort of warning? An attack? He couldn't make sense of it, as yet another BANG brought his hands to his ears. His doughy skin making a wet slap against itself as his fear made his form quickly unstable. There were other sounds too - crackling, popping, screaming… Or was it cheering…? - It didn't matter! Pep wanted it all blocked out, as he held onto his head tighter and tighter. His hands fused into his ears and cheeks, becoming unrecognisable as what they were supposed to be. But his fingers held strong, now striped with black as his sharpened nails buried themselves deep into his head. Every boom jolted him to his core. The smell of gunpowder made him sick- No, wait- He didn't know what that was? Did he? He felt himself sink further and further down into the mud. His lower body was caked in the stuff- No! There was no mud-! Why is there mud? Pep managed a look down, finding not a puddle of his legs, but… Boots? He didn't… Wear boots? Did he? He saw… Shrapnel around his feet. Discarded, pointed pieces of metals… But how did he know that? He couldn't of known that- Another BANG, followed by the crackling once more. He braced himself against the wall as dirt was thrown up into the air nearby. His grip tightened around the cool metal. Finger ready on the trigger- On the what? His hands were practically nothing! How was he holding-

"…-p…!"

…Huh?

"…-ep…!"

Something was warm. Warm, and clammy… It was frantic, but still gentle, as it pawed at him.

"Pep!"

Through all the bangs and pops, Pep heard Peppino, calling for him. Even though his body was just a puddle, he found his eyes and forced them to the surface of his being. Peppino leaned over him, looking more stressed than usual. Sweat beading down his face and something slick and oily on his hands…? Oh… That was himself… Pep force an ear to form, as Peppino seemed to be saying something, but it was too muffled to understand, and too fast for him to lip-read.

"-uda told you! I shoulda stayed out here! Fuck! Please be okay-!"

Pep just barely managed to process his words, most of his focus on trying to keep his features formed. His eyelids closed hard over his eyes, blinking a few times as his brow came together. He could feel his fingers forming, trying to pull himself out of himself. A dull, thudding pain made itself known, as his brain reformed, along with most of his head. His eyes weren't quite back in their oversized sockets, but Pep did notice Peppino's shoulders relax a little. Teeth and tongue came next, clumsily gnashing together in an attempt to speak, but it only came out as garbled, incomprehensible sounds.

"Hey! Hey! It's alright! Uh, take your time… Getting back together?" Peppino spoke slower than earlier, but there was anxiety on the edge of his words. Pep managed a soft noise in acknowledgement, pushing the parts of his face into the correct places. His neck and shoulders started to form, but he quickly felt the exhaustion weighing on him. He would not be able to form all the way. But he could at least pull as much of his melted lower half in as possible, becoming more compact and less of a puddle.

Peppino watched his clone slowly come together, but not as the tall and lanky, almost-passable person he usually was. Instead, as his dough was peeled off his palms like glue, Pep was only a few inches tall. This was not the first time Peppino had seen Pep change his size, but this was different. His legs remained as a puddle, and he looked more like a very soggy stuffed animal than a person, with a much larger head and eyes. The tiny Pep squeaked softly, holding his hands out and looking up to him. Peppino understood, and gently scooped him up, carrying him and sitting down on the couch with him in his hands. He could clasp his hands together and Pep would be completely covered… It was much easier to hide when you're so small. The idea sounded nice to him. Comforting almost. Peppino was brought out of his thoughts by another small squeak coming from his hands. Pep was looking up at him again, pointing to his head and miming a spiral coming from it. Fuck. What did Hazel say this meant again…? Pep mimed the gesture again, and then pointed to the window. Outside…? Oh…

"The sounds outside…?"

Pep nodded, and then mimed once more.

"Yeah, they are loud… But they-a should have stopped for now…" Peppino gave a small sigh, looking to the window. At least he hoped they stopped.

Pep held up his index finger and waved it for a moment. Peppino knew this one.

"They were fireworks. People shoot them into the sky and they explode in colours and-a lights."

Pep's brow furrowed for a moment, before holding up the same finger and touching his chest with the side of his hand. Peppino also knew this one - Pep liked to use it a lot.

"They use them when it's a celebration. I don't-a really get it… And I don't really like it either…" Peppino sighed again, a longer one this time. He was tired.

Despite the many questions popping into his head, Pep could taste green beans. He was quite tired too, instead deciding to nestle against Peppino's chest. He found that rhythmical thump-thump-thumping that he learnt about recently was soothing to him. Even if the noises - the 'fireworks' - came back, he imagined he would feel alright where he was.

Peppino couldn't help an amused huff as the tiny clone snuggled closer to him. Guess he wouldn't be making dinner just yet, so he leaned back into the cushions, keeping a hand around Pep as he dozed off.

"Night, Pep."

106 notes · View notes

shrineofprophecy · 21 days

Text

Who wants some memes from Bronya?

#ღ — ooc #( she doesn't even know what memes are but shh )#( be sure to have a meme tag <3 )#( I want to write but I'm le tired )#( but I do want to get some things started so )#( memes it is )

13 notes · View notes

eternasci · 18 days

Text

Anatomy of Writing

This is just an analysis on my writing style, my weaknesses, strengths, and other tidbits I've noticed over the ten years of my tumblr writing journey. I always strive to improve, which means acknowledging my banes and boons, as well as spots where I feel style has taken precedence over rules. I welcome others to do the same.

This is also littered with links (whether to my old blogs, or my current writing advice blog), so feel free to be nosy. I welcome input of any kind!

Epithets. My earliest (tumblr) writing can be found on my first roleplay blog, pintsizedpyro. By no means did I write the way I did now. On first glance, I utilized simplistic epithets heavily (e.g., "the girl", "the Korean", etc). I've strayed from this as a result of advice given (and also, a general dislike for how it cut into my writing). To this day, I believe I still typically avoid them if there is no deeper meaning. Whether this makes parsing my posts difficult is unknown to me; I have no issues when re-reading, though that's an obvious bias. I love ones with meaning; ones that typically coincide with a character's facets (e.g. using a title to demand authority rather than a simple first name, or calling a character, whose personality can be likened to a dog, a "hound"... you know who you are). Repetition. Similarly, I found repetition within my earliest attempts. It couldn't be helped, but I did notice and often attempted to revise statements in which I would experience overlapping of words even then (epithets being a big one; particularly, when paragraphs would condense and I'd see similar phrases stacked on top of each other, I wanted to kill someone). This is an inevitability at times; the dictionary has many words, but switching them around for the sake of prettying up a post can cause confusion. At the most, I would rewrite entire sentences to at least break up the distance between repeating offenders. This still happens today, but I am swift when it comes to recognizing and rewriting it out.

Length. We've all been there. Receiving a long post and wanting to return fire. I have long found this useless, something to be ironed out of me. Unless I have substance to fill the page, I have to simply be complacent with how much I can give back. We've all gotten carried away and had much to say, but as we always politely mention: there is really no need to match. Due to the "method" behind my writing, I can string lengthy, prose-laden sentences together, but I do not expect the Mona Lisa in turn. That's just a stylistic choice. Similarly, I can get a lot out of a little, and won't press myself to add more if I believe the point has crossed over. I think we would all prefer to have something to work with over a bunch of pretty fluff.

Writing Structure. The beast that typically intimidates others from interacting with me. This post inspired the way I create my sentences. I think, in some ways, I've taken it beyond suggestion given (I like my replies to sound lyrical, perhaps due to the way the post describes their "improved" sentence). I don't think I've fully embodied this just yet. I feel as though my sentences still end up particularly long with no abrupt, shorter statements to allow for breathing. It's something I'm conscious of and actively trying to work on. I'm not particularly upset with the way my current writing manifests itself, though, especially when comparing one of the older threads I was proud of on pintsizedpyro to one of my most "memorable" ones on burstbombbitch.

The writing is objectively different. In the time (four years) between these posts, I believe I had adopted a more descriptive method of writing. I know when writing the latter post I was primarily aiming for beauty and scene setting, but body language had evolved to become one of my most prominent focuses. Due to my muse's anatomy at the time (the lack thereof), I felt as though I could emphasize and exaggerate body language, pushing it to its limits. I am also aware I wrote in this way to "match" with the person I was writing with, as their writing entranced me and was something I aspired to become. I have found a middle ground, being the style I now write in. I do feel as though my background/scene setting could use more work, but I know it is not impossible for me to do, having evidence of doing so previously. That, and other wonderful writers really help me with their love of elaborating on plots!

I've also been told that my writing is "difficult to read," but not in a particularly bad light. I think the critique is spot on, but I do need the ability to make it "easy" on the fly for others as well. That being said, I find myself omitting things that I believe should be derived from context, which makes a good segue into this next segment...

Word Choice and Character Voice. This is something I feel I could work on. I have three "main" muses at this time: sinsolucion, lovlorne, and eternasci. I want to believe they all have different "writing styles" when I piece their threads together, that others will read the narrative (not just the dialogue!) with the same "vibe" the character themselves give off. Much of my struggle comes from how lovlorne and eternasci both can be on the "fancier" side of things. I struggle to differentiate the two, which isn't inherently bad (someone can simply like a character archetype, which I most definitely adore both), but I do wonder how successful I am when it comes to isolating what makes these characters them.

Then there's sinsolucion, who I believe would have none of the elegance the former two share. On rereading posts, I think I've managed to nail keeping him "simple," although actions like body language may still invoke my type of "lyrical" writing. This is a post that kind of has me like... "wait, maybe this was written with too much influence from my other blogs?" Objectively, nothing is wrong... but it does feel too fancy for a dude who just... isn't. Funnier still, this character is a writer, but he would absolutely never write the way I do. It creates some dissonance that makes for a challenge, but I do love him for it. It can be drowned out when reading other replies from Lucien or Xiuying, though. It also helps that, unlike these two, Soren doesn't typically undergo the same thought process or even have the same weak points in their characterization, leaving him to fill in voids they don't allow me to write.

It's difficult to divide your "style" for a different "person," but Soren gives me a good challenge, and helps me grow all the same. Also, he's a breath of fresh air when it comes to his very different interactions. Honestly, after going over these, that aforementioned post definitely felt a little fancy for Soren. I might rewrite it just to see what I could've done differently, knowing the sentence that particularly stood out to me as being more "Lucien" vibes (e.g. "mutters he beneath breath, smirk unbending, nigh threatening to wax crescent").

Just all in the fun of dissecting one's own style.

Steps to Writing a Reply. For Lucien and Xiuying, the first sentence is key. Both of their writing styles are particularly lyrical. I utilize a lot of alliteration and rhyme to get that feeling of song, though it can bleed into Soren's replies as well, evident by the post that has become the previous topic. Typically, when I get that first sentence going, the rest all flow along behind it. I usually knock a reply out all in one go, though I will save a draft and return later to reread it and analyze if I've come up with anything better in the midst of that break. It feels fitting to "set the scene" for these two overly dramatic assholes with a leading sentence, bolded and in bigger text to capture someone's primary attention, both of which crave to be in the spotlight literally and figuratively.

I think just about any post is an example of me framing the first sentence, but a good chunk of my favorites come from Lucien, especially when they're on the particularly silly or dramatic side. Xiuying has her moments, but most of them were in her development a few years ago. Her style has become more "pointed" and jarring to align with her new design, though anything that comes before her third phase of development falls back to the eloquence Lucien has now.

things to come back and add to this: my weakness of scene setting/bgs dialogue

This isn't really something to "tag" per say, since it's not reeeally a prompt or meme, but I'd love to see some elaboration on writing styles I'm super curious about (and as we all say, for the love of all that is holy, you DONT need to match)! I've sent out asks already, but if you haven't gotten one, steal this!

so suffer: @bloodxhound, @kagoshou, @fatedprincess @lionfanged, @goldenfists, @vtriol, @passionoathed, @shdwtouch, @stillresolved, @mielmoto, @amorbloom, @wishedby !

#i get asked to do essays on other ppls writing at times #theyre a Lot of effort too man. when asked ppl tend to forget ive written em too and i have to go find em.#i wanna do one for myself. i wanna see my own change. i wanna have it down for myself since i know i won't just. forget or toss it somewher #ok tag system w/e bro #if yall notice smth unmentioned lmk im curious #🙦✿ ⦙ shoot for the stars; no safety. ⦙ ❪ & ooc. ❫#🙦✿ ⦙ cutesy wootsy pink mermaid! ⦙ ❪ & mun. ❫

11 notes · View notes