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ihavemanyhusbands · 10 days

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Vidas Pasadas (Past Lives)

PART ONE: THE SHOW MUST GO ON

Mini-Series Masterlist

Also on AO3

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Latina!Reader (Spanish speaking)

WC: 2.5k words

Series Summary: Before the great war, you were an actress—A good friend and frequent co-star of Cooper Howard. After two hundred years in cryogenic stasis, you’re being sent to New Vegas as a performer, but on the way there, things don’t go quite as planned.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, series is 18+, canon typical violence, some angst, friends to lovers-ish?, some miscommunications, eventual smut, chem use, there’ll be some Spanish in there for sure (with translations), cursing, the ghoul being the ghoul, aaaaand that’s all I can think of for now but lmk if anything else!

A/N: This is INCREDIBLY self indulgent, but imagine yourself in these shoes for a moment why don’t you? :) hope you enjoy! pt.1 dedicada ao meu amor @the-devils-littlegirl <33

——————-

The holotape was a little over two hundred years old, but it was in relatively good condition. It contained a talk show interview with two actors who were promoting a Western film. The image was in black and white, fuzzy with time, and the voices sounded tinny.

“So tell me, both of you, what’s it been like working on so many pictures together?” The interviewer, Holden Boyd, asked. “This must be — what, the fourth one?”

“That’s right. You know, Holden, in all my years in this industry, I have never met anyone more professional,” Cooper Howard, the handsome hero of the film, turned to you, sitting beside him. “But she also knows how to keep things balanced between work and play. We laugh a lot behind the scenes, actually.”

“Really?” Holden asked, leaning forward with renewed interest. “Well, that doesn’t surprise me, you two have some incredible chemistry on screen.”

“Well, gee, Coop, do we really?” You couldn’t help but grin at him, making him chuckle. “Maybe that’s why we keep getting cast together.”

“And how’s his Spanish? Are you teaching him any?” Holden asked you.

“I’ve certainly tried,” you said, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “Say something, why don’t you?”

Cooper’s smile turned sheepish, shaking his head. “Errr… No muy bueno, pero intento.”

His thick southern accent made you and Holden laugh, invariably charmed. In the background, claps and cheers from the live audience, equally smitten. Cooper always knew how to win people over, it was like second nature to him.

“He’s a natural!” Holden exclaimed. “Say the line Coop, you know the one.”

Cooper cleared his throat, squared his shoulders and pretended to point a gun, his expression fully serious.“Feo, Fuerte, y Formal.”

An eruption of cheers, louder than before. You clapped in delight, smiling ear to ear as you bumped your shoulder against his playfully.

“Ah, I see you’ve found our tapes,” the mechanical voice of vault thirty-one’s overseer startled you.

You looked down at… it, still not used to interacting with a motorized brain suspended in some sort of tank. Bud, you thought it said its name was. Vaguely familiar, but your memories were still hazy, having been in cryogenic stasis for so long.

“Why do you have these?” You asked.

“Everything pertaining to Hollywood was preserved for archival purposes. Feel free to watch anything you like,” Bud said. “We have all of your films, as well as interviews, press clippings, and pictures.”

You looked back at the screen, crossing your arms over your chest and trying not to shudder. You had me, too. You thought, stomach turning. A shiny toy shelved away for later use.

You’d gotten a spot in vault thirty one in exchange for compliance — after all, the future would need entertainers, right? And the nostalgia factor would just sell so well. You would be totally set for whatever came… or so they’d said.

It hadn’t seemed like a terrible deal at the time, but you hadn’t truly realized how tremendous the losses would be. Or how much things could veer off course in two centuries.

Cooper was gone, and so was everyone else you had ever cared for. Bud hadn’t said what happened to your former co-star, but it didn't need to.

You had entered the vault all by yourself, with no family or spouse to consider. And just a few days ago, you had been greeted by that same loneliness when you’d emerged from the pod.

Some things never changed, it seemed. Perhaps New Vegas wouldn’t be a terrible distraction, all things considered.

“Feels like it was only yesterday…” you said, keeping the melancholy out of your voice.

“Doesn’t it? That’s the best part of the stasis pods. Keeps one fresh,” Bud said, chipper. “How’s your head feeling, by the way?”

“Better,” you sighed. “Barely any pain left.”

“Oh, good. You should be ready to travel to New Vegas in a couple more days. I’ve been in touch with a trusted courier that should be able to escort you there safely.”

A tinge of fear in your chest. “How… bad is it out there?”

“Well, er, it’s… not great. But we’ll get there! I’ve heard New Vegas has a lot more going for it than these parts,” Bud said quickly, not wanting to linger on the negative. “Vault twenty one, where you’ll be staying, was turned into a hotel. Lots of people passing by. I’m sure it’ll be easy for you to attract the crowds.”

Stepping towards the projector, you ejected the holotape, unable to watch any more. The memories would consume you far too easily, if you let them. That life had crumbled to dust long ago, and there was nothing you could do to change that, either.

What other choice did you have but to trudge forward?

“For both our sakes, Bud, I really hope that’s true.”

————————————-

As with most things, Bud had severely understated just how bad things were on the surface. The sight of it had instantly struck you— Nothing was left but ruins and desert plains stretching as far as the eye could see. No one but you and the courier — a weathered, gruff looking middle-aged man — around for miles.

You’d left your vault suit behind in exchange for the clothes you’d worn when you first went in. You were also given a small survival pack, a tranquilizer gun, and a pip boy, but that was the extent of your belongings.

The courier handed you a hat and an old scarf to cover yourself from the sun and the sand, instructing you to keep close before whirling around and starting to walk.

Did he even say what his name was? You couldn’t recall, but you were too busy being in shock to care too much.

It was all so unceremonious, unlike what you’d been used to in the past. No cars or any other mode of transportation, no roads to smoothly cruise on. No kind words offered for your departure, except for Bud’s overly enthusiastic Good luck! before opening the vault’s enormous door.

“Say, how long do you think the… trip is going to take?” You asked, trying to keep your fear at bay.

“Around three weeks, give or take. That is, if the weather holds and we keep a good pace during the day,” the courier said. “Can’t be out at night around these parts.”

You swallowed hard, wondering what sorts of dangers lurked out there. You had some stunt training, but no actual fighting skills. Hopefully, the tranq gun would be enough, but you also suspected your companion had far deadlier weapons.

Better to stay on his good side, you thought.

“First stop’s at a town called Filly. Got some quick business to take care of there, so we’ll be spending the night,” the courier continued when you didn’t respond. “Keep your head down and let me do the talking. Don’t want anybody to recognize you.”

You nodded, letting out a long sigh.

“Hopefully they’ve got showers there,” you said, imagining how calming the hot stream of water might be.

The courier looked at you over his shoulder, incredulous, and barked out a laugh. Your face heated up at his ridicule, mumbling something about vault dwellers to himself with a shake of his head.

You walked in silence for the next couple of hours, trying to guess what area you might be passing through. Briefly, you wondered if the ruins of your old house still stood somewhere, and if you’d be able to find them.

But you reminded yourself not to dwell on what no longer existed.

Soon enough, you started to see signs of humanity. A few stragglers here and there, but the courier steered you in different directions whenever he spotted larger groups. Raiders, he’d told you, a grim look on his face.

You hurried your step, wanting to put as much distance between you and them as possible. Bud had given you a very basic rundown of what you might encounter on the surface, but while some of it was hard to believe without seeing it firsthand, raiders did not fall under that category.

Still, despite the danger, at least you were reassured that you weren’t the only people left around.

Filly was a ramshackle town made up of scraps; A small testament of humanity’s endurance. Vendors were hawking questionable food and other wares at the outskirts of it, the tight pack of more bodies making you nervous.

Your senses were invaded by smells and noises and even the occasional passerby bumping into you. Life was still brimming, as chaotic as it may seem. Somehow, it made you feel the smallest flicker of hope.

The courier led you through the crowd and down a rickety stairway towards a small square, where there was a little more room to move. The sun was beginning to set, bright tendrils of orange and gold tinting the sky.

For a brief moment, you stopped to look at it, moved almost to tears by the simple beauty of a sunset. At least, that hadn’t changed either, and you vowed to never take them for granted again.

“This way,” the courier said, urging you to move.

Unbeknownst to you, someone had taken notice of the two of you. More specifically, the courier. A hit had been placed on him, worth three hundred caps. There was no reason given for it, but he hadn’t thought to ask questions, anyway. He didn’t much like meddling unnecessarily.

He surreptitiously followed behind, keeping his distance so you wouldn’t notice him. He already stuck out like a sore thumb, what with being a ghoul and all. But, like any bounty hunter worth his salt, he still knew how to lay low.

The courier led you into a repurposed building that rented out closet sized rooms. You paid with a few of the caps Bud had put in your survival pack, relieved that you wouldn’t have to share a room.

The courier was curt but prudent, in his own way. You were just a task to him, and you knew he would protect you as best as he could because of it. You had nothing against him so far, but you didn’t want to take your chances regardless.

“Stay in your room, I’m gonna head out for a bit. I’ll bring back some food,” he said, turning to leave.

“Wait!” You hurried behind him, out into the open, where it was growing darker. “Wouldn’t it be better to, uh, stick together?”

“It’s private business,” he grunted, annoyed. “Besides, you’ll be safer in there.”

“But—”

“Hey, you,” you heard from behind you, followed by a commanding whistle. “Sabinez, is it?”

The courier looked up, his eyes immediately widening. “Oh, fuck.”

You followed his gaze, finding a… cowboy. His face was mostly obscured underneath the brim of his hat, but his lack of a nose was still strikingly apparent. Radiation burns marred what little skin you could see, the rest covered in old, tattered leathers.

A ghoul, from what Bud had described. The see-it-to-believe-it kind of danger. Your stomach dropped.

He was pointing his revolver at the courier – Sabinez – finger about to squeeze the trigger.

“No, please!” You exclaimed, panicked.

Foolishly, without even thinking about it, you stepped in front of him, arms extended in an attempt to further shield him. The ghoul raised his hairless eyebrows, both amused and surprised.

“I need him,” you said, heart beating so fast you feared it might leap out of your chest. “Please.”

“How sweet,” the ghoul said mockingly, one hand on his chest. “But as it turns out, sweetheart, I need him, too.”

Before you could react, he raised the barrel of the revolver infinitesimally and fired. A dizzying moment in which the bullet whizzed by your head, and Sabinez’s body slumped behind you, his blood spraying at your back.

Any onlookers that had stuck around scattered to safety, not wanting to be next in line for whatever the ghoul had planned. You let out a choked sound, too shocked to even scream. Shuddering, you slowly looked over your shoulder, only to avert your gaze quickly.

“No,” you murmured, horrified. “No, no, no…Fuck!”

It was just your luck, encountering death the very first day you finally returned to the surface. You wondered if you should fall to your knees and beg for mercy, but your body refused to move.

The ghoul’s spurs clinked as he stepped towards you, and you raised your hands in surrender, keeping your eyes down.

“You the cargo?” He asked, tilting his head to one side in curiosity. “Let’s get a better look at’cha.”

You whimpered as he grasped one of your arms, his other hand tugging down the scarf that covered half your face. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, eyes roaming over your features.

“Look at me,” he ordered, voice low.

Swallowing hard, you finally dared to look up at him. Tears clung to your lashes, a stray one running down your cheek. He looked more skeletal up close, his eyes sunken in, cheekbones prominent, and of course there was the cavern where his nose would be.

He removed your hat next, letting go of you and taking a step back. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite decipher, but you felt a creeping sense of deja vu the longer you looked at him.

“You…” he said, something like recognition in his voice, as well as disbelief.

“I–Please, I don’t know w-what he did to you but I don’t–” You started to babble, but he interrupted.

“Where were y’all heading off to?”

“U-um, New Vegas, uh, sir?” You tried to smile placatingly, but it was watery and would slip away at any moment.

Not only was it strange for him to see you alive and in the flesh, but you were also fearing him. He remembered your earnest smiles, genuinely pleased to see him. Then again, you hadn’t yet recognized who he was.

He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted you to know, but he also didn’t really want to let you go on your own way. Plus, he’d just killed your only guide, so it was only fair that he took on the job and saw it through.

That way, he could try to find out more about all that had happened, without giving himself away.

“New Vegas, huh,” he mused, letting out a low whistle. “That’s a long ways away, especially if you don’t know where you’re goin’...But it’s your lucky night, sweetheart, ‘cus I just so happen to know the way.”

“R-really? I could pay you if you’d h-help me!” you said quickly, rummaging through your pack to show him some caps. “I’m not sure how much would be enough but… I’ll be making more once I start working.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist now, we can do some negotiating later,” he drawled, lips curling in a smirk as he looked up at the building behind you. “Hope you don’t mind us bunking together.”

Your entire face heated up. “Uh, you can take his room. It’s already paid for.”

“Well, what a generous fella he was,” he said, tossing your stuff back at you. “Jus’ don’t come runnin’ when you get nightmares. I ain’t much of a cuddler.”

----

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #the ghoul fanfiction #the ghoul x you #cooper howard x you #fallout fanfiction #fallout smut #cooper howard #the ghoul

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iveseenstrangerthings · 1 year

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family video romance - a Steve Harrington imagine

summary: reader is becoming a regular customer at the family video and steve is always keen to help her out. some pining fluffy strangers to lovers which i thought of driving home from work lol. I might make a part two to this, just because I left it quite open.... I loved writing this, it took me a while I kept coming back and adding to it. enjoy :)

word count: 5.3k

warnings: some mild swearing, nothing else :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bell atop the door cheers light-heartedly as you walk into Family Video. You absentmindedly drove here on your way home from work, wanting a familiar, comforting distraction from the sluggish day you had. Every fibre of your being just wants to go home, slot a tape into your crackly television and get lost in the fictional world of cinema.

You live for films. You laugh, cry, and get transported into the storyline so deeply that for the days afterwards you’re convinced you physically lived it.

So now as you breeze through the door, your qualms of the day seem to dissipate with every step you take. Slowly, you snake through the small aisles, stopping every so often at a film you haven’t taken out yet. Carefully, like it’s an ancient relic, turning the box over in your hand, studying the case, looking carefully at the actors and actresses and reading the blurb.

Down the next aisle, you stop and pick up Stand by Me, a film you’ve watched and rented multiple times, but always come back to. Your comfort film if you will. You’re about to move off onto the next aisle to study the new arrivals but are stopped in your tracks.

“That’s a really good choice,” Steve starts, leaning against the shelves of tapes with his arms crossed over.

You tap the box against your hand nervously, you’d seen him working before when you were in, always either sweeping or rearranging the same shelf of tapes, but you’ve never been served by him. He seems sweet, sort of careless, but sweet all the same. His hair always falls back into place after he’s drawn his hand through it roughly and his arms flex as he pushes the broom back and forth. Not that you’d noticed...

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, taken aback by the sudden conversation, “I mean, I’ve seen it a bunch of times but... just keep coming back to it.” The tapping against your palm slows as you see his eyes search your features, a sudden blush peppering your cheeks under his gaze. You’re realising now just how attractive he really is, and you find yourself becoming shy, almost nervous, in his presence. This isn’t how you pictured your movie shopping to go, you wanted to come in, grab some movies, and head home.

He clears his throat and points his thumb in the direction of another aisle, “Can I make some suggestions? Show you what’s popular?” He’s trying to be helpful, trying to be accommodating to you as a customer, but you’ve seen this act before with other girls in the store. Internally, you battle with yourself between just taking Stand by Me and leaving or entertaining the idea of some harmless conversation with... hang on. Your eyes trail to his name badge. Ah, Steve. Harmless conversation with Steve.

Eventually, after what you hope wasn’t too large of a pause, you nod, “Sure.”

You arrive at another section of video tapes and your eyes immediately go to the black VHS tape box facing forward with a small white ghost peeking through a red do not enter sign. He sees you looking at the cover and he picks it up, turning it over in his hands. “This is awesome. Have you seen it? It’s three dudes in New York City fighting off these weird ghouls with machines and they have to fight them off before they end up taking over the city.”

“Ghostbusters? Yeah, I’m sure everyone’s seen that.” You say with a slight laugh, finding it cute how he explained the premise of Ghostbusters, one of the biggest films from the previous few years.

He nods his head quickly before placing it back on the shelf, “Oh yeah, totally. Totally. It was a really-” He places it back so hastily that it knocks a couple other boxes onto the floor. He bends down swiftly and picks them all up before you can offer to help. “-Really popular movie. Yeah.”

“But hey, what’s the harm in watching it again?” Taking Ghostbusters from his hands, you look to the remaining boxes he has, and your eyes fall upon a case you’ve not seen before. “Is this one new?” You enquire, pointing to The Manhattan Project that’s nestled in Steve’s hands. He flips it over and studies the title for a second.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, this one’s pretty new,” he looks back at you and you’re looking back at him, waiting to see if he has anything else to say. “I haven’t seen it, though,” he adds, almost disappointingly, like he feels he’s shutting you out by not wowing you with any cinematic knowledge of new arrivals. “But, I mean, hey, cover’s cool,” he holds it out to you to have a look and you smile at him, taking the box and studying the blurb, actors and such.

Your lips turn down and you raise your eyebrows, “Yeah guess it’ll do. I’ll try it.”

“Oh, oh yeah. Sure. Yeah.” What the fuck, Steve? He thinks to himself. Is he now constricted to one syllable words? So far, he feels this encounter has been disastrous. After mansplaining one of the bestselling movies of ‘84, to knocking tapes from the shelf, to sputtering out single words. What’s happening to the smooth, flirtatious Steve that usually comes out in the presence of a pretty girl? But you’re not just pretty. You’re beautiful, and effortlessly so, almost intimidatingly so. Oh, come on Steve. It’s been ten minutes.

Whilst Steve cleans up the shelf, you can’t help but smile at how flustered he seems. It’s cute. You like it. Once his hands are empty, he doesn’t know what to do with them, so he commits to crossing his arms back over his chest again. “So...” You start, looking around at the few remaining aisles you haven’t ventured to yet. “Got anymore top grossing films to recommend that I will have most definitely seen?”

He smiles down at you, tightening his arms and shaking his head. “You’re not gonna let me live that down, are you?” His voice is playful, and you return his smile. You have him in the palm of your hand, you just don’t realise it.

“We’ll see.” You walk back past him now, towards the counter. The tiredness from the day flooding through your body like a strong current and you realise it’s time to head home. “I’ll just take these for today.”

You place the two on the counter and Steve puts them through the system for you. “Can I take your name? Just for the account,” he points at the screen, fingers ready to type in your name.

You give him your name and it etches into his brain. One he will certainly not forget. He makes a mental note to come back onto the system later and have a look through your recent rentals. That way, next time you come in, he won’t make an ass of himself with recommending films you’ve already seen. Or is that too weird?

“Oh, can I just ask?” You start your question as he places the two movies on the countertop before you, placing his hands on either side of them. His eyebrows raise in anticipation of your question. “Do you know if you’ll be getting Terms of Endearment in? I look for it every time I come in and I can never find it.”

Steve’s facial expression allows you to see the cogs whirring in his mind as he tries to work out what Terms of Endearment is. “Uh, I can’t say I’ve seen it. Is it a particular favourite of yours?”

“I love Jack Nicholson, I’d watch any film he’s in, but I would love to re-watch that one in particular. There was just something about it, you know?”

“Jack Nicholson...” He ponders the name for a moment, and you watch as he clicks his fingers as the name comes to him. “Oh!!” He exclaims. “Here’s Johnny?” A real lightbulb moment.

“Yes!” You beam, although that was also a very popular film, you’re not judging his, clearly limited, film knowledge.

“Uh, so to answer your question about the movie, I’m not sure. But I can definitely check it out for you,” his voice is confident and has grown slightly louder now that you’re back at the desk.

You nod back at him, grateful, whether his words mean anything, you’re unsure. But you can only hope. “Awesome. Well, alright,” You pause a moment, flicking to his name badge to make sure you remember his name correctly, although you’re kidding yourself because how could you forget it, “thank you for all your help, Steve.”

He waves a hand slowly at you as you turn to leave the store, turning round coyly as you exit the door and giving him a small, but noticeable, smile. After you’ve left the store feels unnaturally quiet, he stares at the space you were stood in for a few minutes, mulling over your exchange.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Harrington.” Robin jeers from the door of the back office where she’s been sat shuffling return forms into organised piles.

Steve quickly changes his posture and walks to the office, leaning his frame against the door and puffing his cheeks out. “She was quite something.” His eyes are fixated on one spot on the floor, replaying your conversation in his head.

“She was in last week,” Robin admits, trailing her pencil over a form ensuring it’s been filled out correctly, but her face sours meaning some obvious piece of information has been missed out.

“She was?” Steve retorts.

Robin looks up, her face still soured from the dodgy form, “Uh, yeah. She has a pretty memorable face.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise, “Same time last week?”

“What? Why are you asking that?” She huffs and places her fingers on her forehead, gently massaging it. “Please don’t turn into creepy stalker Steve now. She seems nice, not like those other air heads you usually go for. Plus, she seems to know her shit about movies. Unlike you, dingus.”

Steve looks offended for a glimmer of a second before softening his features, knowing Robin made a very valid point, about the girls, and the movies. He quickly thinks to change the subject before being personally attacked any further by his co-worker, and closest friend. “Hey, do you know anything about the film ‘Terms of Endowment?’” He questions sincerely, and confidently.

Robin stares at him in awe, what have you done to him? “Firstly, I think you mean ‘Endearment’,” Robin takes in Steve’s defiant features, he will be adamant he had the name right, but Robin’s doing him a favour and correcting it for him before he messes it up in front of you. “And secondly, no we do not, nor have we ever, had that for rental.”

“How do we get it?” He retorts, brushing off his poor memory for the name of the film.

She shrugs impatiently, tired of being roped into Steve’s romantic tropes that always end in a ghosting. But there is a steady glimmer of hope in Robin for this one. “I don’t know, get in touch with head office or something.” Before the conversation can go any further, she returns to her forms and Steve whirls out to the phone, dialling the number for head office and requesting one copy of the film to be delivered to the Family Video.

✦ ✦ ✦

Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t on edge every time the doorbell jingled as a new customer entered. Wherever he was in the store, he would look over eagerly to check if it was you. But much to his dismay, you hadn’t been back for over a week. A couple of times, when he clocked on for his shift, he would check the records on the computer to see if you had returned the three films whilst he hadn’t been working, but they still showed as out for rental, meaning you hadn’t returned, and he hadn’t missed you. He’s kind of hoping you wait it out a few more days though, as the copy of your movie still hasn’t arrived. After some pathetic begging and pleading with head office, they agreed to send a copy out to the Hawkins store when Steve had convinced them it would absolutely get rented.

It’s a cold, October evening and the weather is atrocious. All day there had been steady ribbons of rain cascading from the sky and painting the pavement in a slick sheen. Steve and Robin sit as a couple of shoppers aimlessly float the aisles, munching on a bag of chips behind the counter. “Reckon we could close early?” Robin probes, hoping Steve will say yes, she eyes the keys in the pot underneath the counter.

Steve’s still holding out hope he will see you today, so, reluctantly, he refuses.

“Come on!” Robin whines, shoving another handful of broken chips into her mouth. “It’s a Friday night, almost Halloween, surely there’s better things we can be doing with our time.” Robin says through a mouthful of dry chips, yet to be chewed, and Steve looks over at her with slight feigned disgust.

“Be my guest and go, but I don’t fancy getting another warning letter from head office about us closing up early,” Steve holds his hands up in protest.

“Steve, that was one time,” Robin retorts, her embarrassment at the memory showing on her cheeks in a light pink flush.

“You closed the shop four hours early because Vickie was practising band at-” He stops mid-sentence as a figure appears in the doorway and the familiar jingle of the bell rings out. The sound of the rain pummelling the sidewalk enters the quiet ambience of the shop as you step through the door, removing your sodden hood when you’re in the warmth. As you turn around, you’re met with welcoming smiles from Robin and Steve. You return the gesture, trying to supress the butterflies erupting into a wild storm in your stomach, and elope into the familiar comfort of the aisles before you.

“Go on then, jackass,” Robin whispers, folding away the rest of the chips.

“No, not straight away. I’ll look too keen,” he hisses as he rummages around loose papers to make himself look remotely busy, Robin’s face is a picture of bewilderment as she shakes her head and sets off for the back office.

Fifteen minutes pass and Steve still hasn’t wandered over to you. He can see you, stealing glances over the top of the stands as you aimlessly look for another film. But it’s like someone has cemented his feet to the carpeted floor, he just doesn’t move.

You’re hoping that he’s just busy, that he wants to come over and chat with you again, but he’s staying put behind the desk and a disappointment nestles itself deep in the pit of your stomach you know it’ll be hard to shift. After reasoning with yourself for another five minutes, you make your way over to the counter and place the tapes for return on the top, letting him meander over to you from where he was resting by the computer. His heart sinks as he realises, he’s left it too late and now you’ll be leaving soon.

“Hey! Good to see you again,” he smiles broadly at you, not letting his internal beatings show on his beaming face. The first thing he notices however, is your shiny eyelids, caressed with deep, dark eyelashes that beautifully darken your lustrous eyes. He wonders if you’re made up for someone else, maybe for a date. Shake it off Steve and get on with it.

You push the tapes towards him and return his hello, “Just returning these.”

He peers at the tape you’re holding to your chest, “Poltergeist 2, huh?” He questions as he taps the return details into the computer with satisfying clicks. “You uh...” he taps the spacebar a couple of times before turning his head back to look at you, “you watching that alone or..?” His question trails off as he kicks himself for asking such an intrusive question.

Your brows knit together at his question, “Yeah, I mean, it’s almost Halloween so. I figured I’d watch something spooky.” Drumming a beat, your nails tap against the countertop almost impatiently, unbeknownst to you having just skipped over the biggest hint ever.

He purses his lips and nods tightly before turning back and reaching for the VHS tape you still hold close to your chest. “Oh, sorry,” you mumble as you pass him the tape. As you do so, your fingertips briefly linger over one another and your eyes meet instantaneously, your cheeks warming under his gaze before you avert your eyes elsewhere. The sounds of him tapping away at the keyboard fill the air shortly after and it fills the silence.

“I see why you like Jack Nicholson so much,” he starts, “rented a couple over the last week and I gotta say, he’s a pretty awesome dude.”

A slight laugh escapes your lips as you take the Poltergeist 2 from him and place it in your bag. “Right?!” Your words seep with enthusiasm and his heart gradually quickens as he hears the sing-song fill your voice. A warmth fills you like a whistling kettle at the thought of him going out of his way to watch movies with your favourite actor. Or, you could just be reaching here, and it doesn’t mean anything. “He’s just, so enthralling, you know? Anything he does I enjoy.”

He ponders this for a moment as his fingers glide over his chin repeatedly, “I wasn’t a fan of Missouri Breaks, but was a big fan of The Postman Always Rings Twice.”

Your eyebrows slowly sneak up at Steve, “Because of Jessica Lange?”

Slightly, hid head quirks to one side and, innocently, he says, “Who?”

“Never mind.” You dismiss the comment with a wave of your hand and tap the counter, ready to announce your departure.

He stretches his arm, rubbing the back of his head so his bicep flexes slightly and you have to use all your willpower not to stare at the muscles contracting so effortlessly under his skin. “You uh-” he starts, “you look nice.” He rests his hand now on the counter, close to your own. “Well, you looked nice the other week, I just mean tonight you look better than usual.” His eyes widen quickly, and he shoots his hands forward in defence. “Not that you didn’t look nice! I just mean tonight you look... tonight you look beautiful.”

You genuinely don’t know what to say. As cliche as it sounds, you’ve never been called beautiful by anyone before. Well, yeah, your grandma often peppers you with kisses and calls you her ‘beautiful ray of sunshine’, but not anyone like Steve. For a moment, you’re overwhelmed by the feeling you almost feel nervous, like you just want to get out of the situation. Not because you don’t appreciate the compliment, but because you’ve never been in this situation before and just genuinely don’t know how to act. In your chest, your heart hammers wildly and you fear it will leap out onto the counter between the pair of you. An intense heat pools across your cheeks, one which is entirely noticeable, and Steve immediately worries he’s overstepped some unspoken boundary between the two of you.

Before you wish to make it anymore awkward by your utter incompetence to receive compliments, you push back from the counter, smile awkwardly, and turn to leave. “Have a nice night, Steve,” is all you can muster before you reach the door to leave.

After you’ve left, the cemented feeling returns, and he does not shift from his spot behind the counter. Alone with his thoughts, he realised he must’ve said something to upset you, because the look on your face was like he’d just shared some deep, disgusting secret with you. But it was just a compliment? One that, albeit they are disingenuous, the girls love. But this one he meant it, this one he wanted to see the bashful look seep over your features, but it was quite the opposite.

✦ ✦ ✦

Steve’s pen hovers over the scrap of paper, he’s been staring at it for five minutes mulling over the right note to write for you. Your copy of Terms of Endearment arrived the other day and he’s itching to give it to you. He resumes his familiar position by the cash register, waiting for your familiar figure to come through the door and grace the shop with your presence. But there’s been a deep pit of anxiety forming in his stomach as his worries grow that he colossally fucked up the last time you were in.

After a few more minutes of mulling it over, he finally decides to write his number on the paper and underneath, written in his scrawl:

‘Because I know you’ll ask, yes. Yes, I did cry. Great recommendation. - Steve x’

He cringes slightly at himself, but then shrugs the thought off and pops open the case for the tape, lying the note on the top before snapping it back shut and placing it underneath the counter, ready for when you come back in.

A few days later, he misses the door opening and it’s you who approaches first. He’s stood with his back to you, sorting tapes and making notes on his clipboard on stock. Over the last week, you’ve been building yourself up to going in and seeing Steve. You kept looking at yourself in the mirror and telling yourself to take Steve’s compliment. Accept it, believe it, and believe he might feel something for you. You even talked to your mom about it, and she was thrilled, you could already see her picking out a wedding hat but you rolled your eyes anytime she asked anything else.

So, now as you walk over to him you tap him on the shoulder lightly and he turns, face solemn until he realises it’s you.

“y/n! Hey. It’s good to see you.” He smiles broadly and it reaches his eyes, a real genuine smile.

You return it sincerely and grip the tapes tighter to your chest, almost as a defence mechanism between the pair of you. “Yes, you too. It’s been a while.” You stand looking up at him, gazing more like, “you been busy?”

It only occurs to him now that this is really the first time you’ve made any effort to make small talk. “Busy? Uh, yeah. We have been actually; Halloween rush is over so we will probably be getting all the Christmas movies in soon.”

Your heart swells at the thought of Christmas movies.

“How about you? Get up to anything exciting over Halloween?” He hasn’t seemed to want to break away eye-contact since he laid eyes on you.

You shake your head and hold your arms up a little higher, “Hell no. I’ve come to get my next fix.”

He laughs slightly and places his clipboard under his arm, “Oh! Sure yeah, come on over and I’ll return those for you.”

You both make your way over to the counter and you place your returns on the top, sliding them along for Steve to process. He scans them swiftly back in and places them in a small pile to be placed back out on the shelves. Unbeknownst to Steve, you watch his hands as they work, flipping the covers open to ensure the tape has been returned, scribbling notes onto the sheet and then typing away onto the computer.

Once he’s finished his routine for returns, he faces you again with a smirk on his face, like a kid who’s walked into the best candy store around. Your stomach tightens and he clears his throat, “I have something for you.”

The knot in your stomach is pulled painfully tight, your stomach clenches and your heart leaps as he reaches under the counter and pulls out Terms of Endearment, sliding it along the counter for you. Your eyebrows raise with happiness and your eyes grow wide, “How did you- Where-?” You almost can’t believe the store finally has it in, you figured it’d come in on one of their recent deliveries.

“I rang head office, had to speak to them a couple times, but I asked if they’d send a copy out here.” He looks pleased with himself, and so he should. Nobody has ever done anything like that for you, yes it might have been easy to get a hold of, but still. He slides it further towards you, urging you to take it so you pick it up. As usual, you inspect the box and turn it over gently in your hands. He watches as you do so, seeing the routine so familiar it makes his heart swell. You are so precious. You go to hand it back to him and he frowns.

“For you to scan!” When you see his frown, your expression changes too and you tilt your head slightly.

“It’s yours. I don’t need to scan it, that’s your copy.” He states it matter of factly and instinctively your hand goes over your chest.

“My copy?” Your head stays tilted like a puppy trying to register a new sound.

He nods slowly and laughs a puff of air, “Yeah! Your copy. I knew you liked it, loved Jack Nicholson, and couldn’t get it anywhere so... yeah. You can keep it. Yours to enjoy at your leisure.”

Instinctively, you clench your hands around the box, overwhelmed with gratitude. “Oh Steve... That’s...” Your eyes lock together, and you will this not to be the last time, “that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” You pause, “I know it’s not that deep or whatever but yeah that’s just super thoughtful Steve, thank you.” You waggle the tape in between the two of you, eyes still boring into one another and his smile stretches across his face again, lighting up his eyes.

“I uh, I watched it too. Just to see what the hype was about, you know?” He quickly adds, “Oh and don’t worry, I wound the tape all the way back for you.”

You laugh slightly, “How thoughtful.” Where his hand is resting on the desk, you quickly take it in yours and give it a squeeze, you don’t know what came over you, the sudden rush of confidence, but you’ve finally broken the unspoken barrier between the pair of you. “Seriously Steve,” you start as you place your hand back over the box, “thank you so much.”

His cheeks bare a mild tinge of pink, from the sudden contact earlier, “You’re so welcome.” Realising you haven’t taken out a new film for you to return in future, his eyebrows knit together. “Will I see you again?”

“Of course you will, I’ll be back soon for my next fix of cinema, and you best have more box office favourites to recommend for me.”

Another laugh escapes his lips and he bows his head slightly, “Damn... Still not letting me live that down?”

You shake your head as you push back from the counter and head back for the door, “Hell no.” You give him a small wave as you reach the exit, “See you soon.”

He lifts his hand and returns your wave, smiling softly as you disappear back out into the bright daylight. Now, he just has to wait and see if you call...

✦ ✦ ✦

Later that night, Steve’s phone in his bedroom rings with a metallic shrill and he jumps out of his skin. Lurching forward, he dives at the phone and yanks it from the stand, “Hello?”

On the other end of the phone, you’re taken aback by the utter speed at which he answered, but in a way, it makes your stomach tense in adoration. “Hey, Steve? It’s (y/n), from the video store.”

Although he’s been keeping himself within reach of his phone since he returned from work, he’s kind of surprised you’ve rang. He smiles at the fact you felt you needed to clarify where he knew you from, as if the pure sound of your voice wouldn’t be enough. “Hey.” He starts softly, “I’m glad you called.”

You sit and wrap the cord so tightly around your fingers you can feel the tip of your finger throb, “Yeah I,” your voice comes out slightly horse, so you quickly clear your throat, “I wanted to straight away, when I saw your note. Which was cute, by the way.” Your cheeks redden at the admission.

“Cute, huh?” He toys back with you, and he crosses his leg over to stop his knee from bouncing wildly with nerves. You’re both a pile of nerves, it’s almost laughable. “So have you watched your new film yet?”

“No, that’s why I was calling actually I-”

He frowns, assuming the worst, and cuts you off accidentally, “Ah shit is there something wrong with it? Have I fucked the tape up?”

You pause for a moment, frowning slightly and unravelling the cord before you lose all feeling in your finger, “Oh, no no no. No, not at all. I haven’t actually watched it yet I was wondering if, if maybe you wanted to come and watch it with me?” Silence. He’s stunned that you’ve taken the leap and asked, he was convinced he was going to be the one to ask to make plans. You take his silence as polite rejection, imagining him pondering some lame excuse. “Never mind I knew it was stupid to ask, I’m sorry if I was too forward or whatever I’ve-”

This time he cuts you off before you spiral even more into territory where you simply don’t need to go, “No, hey, hey.” He cuts you off gently, “I would love to.”

“Really?” Your shock rings through the receiver.

“Really.” He confirms, relaxing back into his chair, suddenly feeling a rush of warmth overcome him.

You sigh audibly and it ruffles through into Steve’s ear, he smiles gently at just how precious you are. “My mom is in though, don’t worry. I don’t wanna give off the wrong impression.”

“Hey, (y/n), you could never. Where abouts will I find your humble abode then?”

A rush of giddiness flies through you and you physically shudder as if a bolt of electricity has just been pulsed through your spine. You relay your address to Steve, giving him some minor directions around town and he hums in recognition. He recognised the street name as the one behind Mike’s, so at least he already knows where to go, sort of.

“I’ll leave the porch light on for you?” Your intonation peaks like you’re posing a question. “And I’ll keep an eye out for your car, too.” Because you know from the moment you hang up, you’re going to be sat watching the window in anticipation for him arriving.

“Awesome, yeah. Awesome,” Here he is, back to repeating singular words. Hey, at least these ones were two syllables. “Am I good to come around now?”

You nod enthusiastically, “Of course! Yeah, that’s totally fine.”

Again, he smiles to himself and gets ready to wrap the conversation up so he can see you quicker. “Awesome.” Again? Seriously? “Looking forward to seeing you soon, (y/n).”

The sound of his voice, confident but caring and gentle, fills your ear and you can’t believe you made the move. Well, technically he made the move by leaving his phone number in the box, but you’ve made the plans.

“Me too, Steve. Drive safe!” You add before placing the telephone gently down against the stand. For a few seconds, you stare at the phone as if it’s an otherworldly item, come from outer space and you’re trying to figure out how it works. But really, you’re just replaying the conversation over again, making yourself believe what’s happening. You feel happy, overwhelmed, slightly nervous but excited all at the same time, you almost feel like you need to splash your face with freezing water to wake yourself up. But you’re awake, you haven’t dreamt it and Steve will be here soon to enjoy being in your presence. Because he likes you and he wants to spend time with you, because you were yourself, and he’s started to fall hard and fast. Not that you know that yet, of course.

434 notes · View notes

gravehags · 22 days

Text

unholy, unholy, unholy

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: the ministry being the catholic church's evil twin, manipulation, masturbation, confession, copia lowkey being a desperate little sex freak my beloved

Words: 5,153

Summary: You really walked right into this, you tell yourself. You can't even be mad at Copia for suggesting it.

a/n: can't believe the last thing i wrote for these losers was at christmas...damn. anyway you know how i like my non-chronological shit so this takes place somewhere in between take me apart and satan baby. i'm not done making these two dance around their feelings just yet.

divider by @gothdaddyissues!

“Jesus fucking Christ Almighty.”

You slam your office door shut with your hip and Cardinal Copia turns to look at you from his seat.

“Need help?”

With a grunt and a shake of your head you walk past him and set the bag of food down on your desk, heaving a deep sigh.

“Had to go on a fucking scavenger hunt because the goddamn DoorDash driver left the bag with a maintenance worker, who gave it to one of Terzo’s ghouls, who left it in a stairwell for some reason…don’t ask me how I managed to find it because fuck if I know.”

Dramatically you flop into your desk chair and give your lunch companion a look as he begins to sort out your meals with a smile.

“You know you eh…take the Lord’s name in vain quite a bit for someone who wasn’t raised in religion.”

When he passes your container of Pad see ew to you, you grin.

“Ehhh you know, the perils of being raised in a predominantly Christian society. It’s funny, the first time I said ‘Jesus Christ’ I was maybe…I don’t know nine? Ten? And my mom tersely told me ‘don’t say that’ to which I replied ‘why not?’ I don’t think she knew how to answer that question in a way that would make me care, you know? I had gone all my little life not giving a shit about Jesus, why would I now?”

Copia chuckles and cracks open his own takeaway box.

“Ah cara, you continue to stray further and further from God’s light every day. Thank Sathanas for that, hmm?”

With a smile, you clink your soda can against his and dig into your meal.

“You ever think about how fascinating your religion is, Copia?”

You prop your feet up on your desk as Copia delicately picks noodles out of his box with chopsticks.

“Eh, how do you mean?”

“Like…you’re a Satanic cardinal. You’ve sworn your life to uphold the tenets of Satanism. You…we live at a massive complex dedicated to Satan. One of many complexes throughout the world, apparently. And yet, barely anyone knows of the Ministry’s existence. It’s wild, really.”

He makes a thoughtful noise as he chews on a particularly crunchy piece of bok choy.

“Ah, well,” he begins, setting his chopsticks down and reaching for the soda resting on the desk, “we’re trying to change that. In…subtle ways.”

“Mmm, the Ghost project.”

“Sì, the idea is we use Papa to spread our message through music - something that is accessible to many people.”

“With the hopes that you and your evil brethren can dominate the globe?” you say, scrunching your nose playfully and giving him a big wink.

“Something like that,” he smiles wryly.

“Well I’ve listened to some of the project’s music and I gotta say…big fan. I think your sinister subliminal messaging is working on me.”

“Oh?” he asks, setting down his food in order to cross his legs and give you a curious stare. “Tell me more, cara. Do I have a future sister of sin on my hands?”

You close your eyes and laugh, missing the hungry way the Cardinal watches the line of your throat as your head tilts back.

“Maybe…let’s just say I’m intrigued. How could I not be when I’m surrounded by it all the time?”

He nods, resting a gloved hand on his knee and straightening his cassock.

“Perhaps…”

You fix him with a look you know will make him lose his train of thought for a moment. Positively wicked.

“Perhaps…?”

“Perhaps,” he clears his throat, eyes darting away from yours, “you would like to attend one of our services?”

You nod gamely.

“Is a super cool and hip youth pastor going to tell me about the ways the Devil cares about me unconditionally?”

He rolls his eyes and fixes you with an unamused stare.

“Very funny, dolcezza. Would you prefer that I have you sit with Papa Nihil while he explains the history of the Emeritus bloodline?”

You balk. The wizened Papa had a distinct dislike of you for some odd reason. You often wonder how he manages to give you such dirty looks through his cloudy eyes. You didn’t particularly care, however, as you saw the way he constantly brushed off and mistreated Copia during staff meetings. Nihil irked you to no end, no matter how much Sister Imperator liked him.

“Alright, fine, sorry. I only jest to get a rise out of you, I know how important your religion is to you. And hey, anything that has the drama and aesthetics of the Catholic Church without all the guilt and trauma has my full attention. Please don’t be mad.”

He grunts but you see the way his mustache twitches as he fights back a smile. You flutter your eyelashes a little and in a moment of boldness, take your lower lip between your teeth. The way his mismatched eyes dart to your mouth and his jaw hangs open makes you giddy.

“I’m–,” his voice comes out as a hoarse rasp, “I forgive you, cara.”

“Thank you for absolving me of my sins, Your Eminence.”

He has to know you’re doing this on purpose at this point. You’re not sure what has gotten into you today but something about the way he stares at you now makes you want to grab him by his pellegrina and haul him over your desk for a sloppy kiss. There’s a heavy tension between the two of you, not for the first time, as if all one of you needs to do is take a step forward and all hell would break loose.

“So, you want me to go to a service? What like black mass? Unholy baptism? Virgin sacrifice?”

The spell is broken and briefly your swagger flickers, wondering if you’ve crossed a line.

“Eh, maybe someday but your statement about sin made me think…perhaps confession would be more suited to you?”

Now your jaw falls open and you can feel your cheeks light up as he watches you with a smirk toying at the corners of his mouth. The tables have turned and now you’re the one left speechless.

“O-oh?” you ask, voice a little higher than normal, “so if Catholic confession is about getting your sins forgiven, then Satanic confession is…having your sins…celebrated?”

“Corretto,” he says with a generous nod, “we’ll go through each one in ah…intimate detail.”

“We?” you squeak out, stomach dropping severely, “I hadn’t realized that you would be presiding.”

“Oh sì,” he says, the smirk on his face positively devilish, “although if you’d prefer someone else…”

“No,” you say just a little too quickly, your heart pounding, “I…I don’t know how much sinning I really get up to. I’ll probably bore you to tears.”

“You might be surprised, dolcezza,” Christ the nickname sounds devious on his lips right now, “What is it they say? ‘Still waters run deep’?”

Your laugh comes out just a little too loud and unnatural and you kick yourself.

“Ha…right. We…we should probably get back to this cataloging or Sister Imperator is going to publicly execute me.”

The rest of the afternoon proceeds normally, with the two of you diligently organizing the abbey’s collection of illuminated manuscripts. When you finally part, he gives you the date, time, and directions to the chapel where the confession booth is located.

“Cara,” he murmurs as you begin to walk away, “you don’t have to do this.”

You give him a half-smile and shake your head.

“I think it will be good for me,” you say, hands behind your back as you rock onto your heels, “and besides, how could I say no to spending an evening with you?”

You make sure not to turn away until you see the full breadth of his dazed expression and by the time your back is to him and you’re walking away, there’s a loopy grin on your face. It’s not til you turn the corner and reach the staircase to your quarters the full realization of what you’ve agreed to dawns upon you.

Oh fuck.

You don’t see Copia the next two days between his duties and your own and for that you’re extremely thankful. The date of your confession has arrived and you’re equal parts nauseated and exhilarated. Having never gone to confession of any sort before, you’re not entirely sure what to expect. You’re not ignorant - you’ve seen confession scenes in the media and have heard from friends raised in Catholicism - but what little you do know doesn’t assuage your anxiety. This was Satanic confession. A whole different beast. Your mind conjures images of blood rituals and sacrifices and being on your knees before Copia…his gloved hand tilting your chin upwards to look at him…

Christ Almighty, get your shit together.

You desperately try to, as you sternly told yourself, get your shit together but your mind is clouded the rest of your workday with positively sinful scenes of the two of you. You’re particularly fond of the one where he’s got you in his office, your skirt hiked up over your hips as you bend over his desk and he pushes himself inside you from behind. The thought of his voice in your head, calling you his sweet little nicknames as he fucks into you, makes you practically drip. The final two hours in your office are torture before you’re able to skitter back to your rooms. You’re not meeting with Copia for another few hours and you need to do something about the ache between your thighs. Impatiently, you fumble for the buttons on your blouse with one hand while pushing your skirt off with another. You must look a sight, ripping your bra off and flinging it somewhere on the floor, but all you can think about now is getting to your bed. You almost trip twice in the journey to your room, blindly stumbling over and flinging yourself on the mattress. What has gotten into you? You’ve been horny before, about Copia sure, but this? The way you’re practically whining when your hands meet your bare breasts? You feel positively feral.

“Copia,” you breathe, fingers pinching at your nipples. You imagine his hands on you, the way the leather would warm as he strokes your soft skin.

Dolcezza.

Fuck, you can hear it perfectly and it makes you sigh, one of your hands slowly sliding down your body to cup the heat of you. You’re sopping and time feels like it slows as you spread yourself open and slide two fingers against your engorged clit. All of your frantic rushing from earlier ceases as you twitch under your own touch, his name on your lips. You’re so sensitive right now it barely takes anything to bring you over the edge, but, you think as your orgasm wanes, it’s not quite enough. Taking a slow exhale in you slip your fingers lower and tease at your entrance. The digits glide in easily enough with the abundance of slick coming from you and languorously you begin to pump them in and out. Your eyes slide shut and you imagine it’s his dexterous fingers instead, curling inside you so you can feel every stitch and groove of his glove.

Cara mia, he’d murmur into your ear, so wet for me. So sweet for your Cardinal, eh? You honor me.

The whimpers crawling out of your mouth are getting more frequent and higher in pitch - you know you’re close. You bring your palm flat against yourself to push on your clit as your hips continue to make little circles, driving your fingers deeper in. Your hand is aching but it doesn’t stop you from pulling another orgasm out of yourself, chanting his name. Tears pool in your eyes and slide down your temples as you sob aloud and all of a sudden it’s too much. Your body spasms on the duvet, breath coming in harsh pants as you attempt to slow the thundering of your heart. It’s not the first time you’ve touched yourself to the thought of him, by any means, but something feels…different. More charged. You’re exhausted, bone tired as you try to organize your feelings. Reaching a hand up to rub your face you turn over and look at the clock.

5:32 PM

Your eyelids are heavy but you manage to lean over the side of your bed and locate your phone to set an alarm. Some sleep would do you good. Clear your head.

You don’t dream.

—------

Cazzo, cazzo, cazzo.

Copia paces back and forth in the small, dimly lit (romantically lit, some would say) chapel. The last sibling of the evening just left and now all that remains is…you. He barely heard what the siblings were telling him this evening, so anxious was he and caught up in the thought of you soon being in their position. More than once his vision went blurry as he imagined you a breath away, separated only by the decorative wooden screen.

He was so eager for you to walk through that door, now he’s not sure. With a heavy sigh through his nose he looks down at his watch.

6:58 PM

You’re always punctual and he counts on tonight being no different. Resigned to his fate, he shuffles over to the confession booth and opens the door, slotting himself inside. Shit, his ass hurts from the hard bench, why in fuck’s name had they not added a cushion to this side like there was on the other? He’s grumbling to himself in Italian when he hears the chapel door squeak open and firmly shut. Your soft footsteps approach - you must be wearing your sneakers and not your boots for the distinct clacking sound he usually hears from you has vanished. He sucks in a breath when he hears you open your side of the booth and quietly shut it. There’s a silence between the two of you so profound that when you finally speak he jumps.

“Hey. You’re in there right?”

He makes a loud, vague noise and sees your shoulders drop through the screen. He can’t get a read on your expression but the anxiety in the air has softened with your posture.

“Good evening,” he begins, a little stiffly. “Eh, welcome.”

You breathe out heavy through your nose.

“Copia, is this a good idea?”

He pauses and looks down to pull at a loose thread on his cuff.

“Are…are you nervous, cara?”

You let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh.

“Yeah, I’m fucking nervous! I’ve never even been to a regular confession let alone…this.”

“Well, we begin with the ceremonial bloodletting and–”

“Oh fuck off,” you grouse, flicking the screen that separates you. You fall silent after a moment.

“Cara, are you truly that anxious? Because we don’t have to do any–”

“I’m fine, Copia. Really. I don’t know why I'm so worked up. Fear of the unknown, I suppose,” you clear your throat and hears you crack your neck.

“Bene. Shall I go over the process with you? And remember this is a celebration. No shaming. No guilt. No wrong answers.”

You take a deep breath in and he sees you nod.

“I will start with the blessing and then we will go through the seven cardinal sins one by one. You may describe yours as briefly or lengthy as you like and we will venerate them. Once we have finished, I will close with a blessing. Then we will part. Nothing to be nervous about, eh? Are you ready?”

“Yes, please.”

“Very good,” he clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. “In nomine Padre, et Filio, et lo Spiritus Malum…we welcome this most sacred sinner into your embrace that she may revel in her transgressions against God.”

When he addresses you by name, he sees you jump.

“Let us begin with the Original Sin - pride.”

“Okay. Yeah. Pride.” There’s a few seconds of silence before he hears you softly curse. “Sorry, I should have made a list or something.”

“Take your time,” he says with a smile, simply content to be in your presence, “I have nowhere to be, cara. I am right here, ready when you are.”

He can see your eyelashes flutter as you look down and your cheeks bunch in a soft smile. Although mostly obscured, the sight still makes his heart soar. After a minute or so of silence you speak.

“Oh! Okay, uh pride. Well I was going to tell you about this anyway but…you know that little write-up I did of Satanic art in the time of the Counter-Reformation?”

“Naturalmente, it was superb.”

“Thank you. Well I thought it was too so I submitted it to a journal for publishing…and they accepted it.”

He can practically hear your grin and it makes him beam in return.

“Cara mia! Congratulazioni! You deserve nothing less! Although I hope you do not consider it a sin to rightfully celebrate an occasion such as this?”

You sigh.

“Ah, I don’t know. I may have bragged a bit too much to other people in the field. Felt a little too self-satisfied about it. So I think that would count, right?”

He scoffs.

“To Papa Frankie, maybe. To us it is a well-deserved acknowledgement of your hard work and something you have every right to be proud of. Dolcezza, even if you hesitate to celebrate yourself, know that I always will do so for you. Published in a journal, well done cara.”

He may not be able to see it in the low light of the confessional but he can picture your flushed cheeks perfectly in his mind.

“Anything else you would like to say on the matter?”

“No, that’s it.”

“Are you ready for the next?”

“Yes,” you say, with greater confidence, “let’s continue.”

“Onto the next. Envy.”

“Ah,” you seem to deflate a little and his brows knit together, “well about that. This…wow this is embarrassing.”

“No such thing as embarrassing at this moment. It’s a safe space, remember?”

“Right,” you huff, “okay well here it goes then. I see the sisters of sin every day walking around the corridors, working in the library, in the dining hall and…I envy them. I envy their bold confidence in their appearance and their sexuality.”

He’s silent for a moment, weighing whether or not he should say what he’s thinking. But you deserve to hear this.

“Confidence is not only represented by eh, wearing short skirts and high heels. I see you exude it every day when you’re bossing me around, no?”

You bark out a laugh and it lightens his heart.

“Truth be told,” he sighs, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I’m not the best person to be taking advice on confidence from. But I know how to recognize it and I see it in you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur so softly he thinks he might have made it up, “can we move on?”

“Si,” he says before clearing his throat, “next one is wrath.”

He hears you suck in a breath through your teeth.

“Oh, I’ve got a good one for this. Well…not good. It wasn’t my best moment. But it definitely fits the bill.”

He makes a noise prompting you to continue.

“You know that new painting that Sister Imperator got at auction? The one of Lilith and Faust? It arrived last week and she asked me to oversee its unboxing. I told all the siblings working with me that once the box was open the painting was to be handled with archival gloves. I had to step out of the room for a second to talk to the head librarian and when I came back…not a glove to be found and the painting was halfway out of its crate. Copia I…I lost my shit. You know me I-I don’t get mad. But the fact that they had disregarded my instruction and got their bare fingers on that canvas, then acted ignorant about the whole thing…Christ, Copia I saw red. I don’t even remember half of what I yelled at them. I had to walk out before I did something I would regret. God, I already regretted raising my voice. I didn’t report them to Sister Imperator but she found out somehow…maybe the librarian? I don’t know what their punishment was but I haven’t seen them since. Copia, it was awful. I was awful.”

“With good reason,” he replies promptly, “they should have respected your authority as a professional in the field and by not doing so not only did they potentially damage Ministry property, but they also embarrassed themselves. Idioti. Though I would have liked to have seen you all riled up.” A confession of his own - Sathanas would he have loved to see you flying at them like a demon, your claws sharp and your words sharper. The thought sends a shiver of arousal down his spine and he takes a moment to gather himself before speaking again.

“Is that all you wish to say?”

“Yes. Can we please move on?”

“Very well. Next is sloth.”

You’re silent for a moment and his heart sinks, hoping you’re not dwelling too much on your last confession. He opens his mouth to speak but you beat him to it.

“Sloth, yeah. I, uh,” you let out a giggle and he’s relieved to hear it, “none of these can get me in trouble with Sister Imperator, right?”

“No,” he says slowly, a grin curling his lips, “this is just between us.”

“Okay good. Do you remember a couple weeks back when I texted you that I wasn’t coming in because I was having a migraine?”

“Sì…”

“I was lying,” the words blurt out of you in a rush but you sound almost gleeful about it, “I was so fucking tired and so cozy in bed and it was raining outside…I just couldn’t do it. Stayed under the covers all day watching Ghost Adventures.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he playfully chides, and he can see your shoulders shake with laughter, “Signorina I am stunned. Horrified, even–”

“Oh it’s not that bad.”

“Horrified…that you didn’t tell me so I could join you. I love those ghost hunting shows.”

Your laugh makes him smile in return, “Next time we’ll play hooky together, I promise.”

He sighs deeply. “Please. I could use it.”

“I know,” you murmur, “no one in this abbey works as hard as you do.”

“Grazie, tesoro. I appreciate your kindness.”

You make a warm noise of affirmation before speaking, “What’s next?”

“Gluttony.”

“Oh Christ,” you cringe, head falling forward, “Maybe…about a month ago? Primo came by my rooms and handed me a Tupperware container of brownies. Told me to eat one per sitting with a sweet old man smile on his face. I’m not an idiot, I heard what he grows in the abbey gardens but my God the stink that came off of these things. I knew I was about to get my shit rocked. So I ate my designated brownie and just puttered around, cleaning up the kitchen. All of a sudden, I’m flat on the floor in front of my fan having an out of body experience. I don’t know how long I was lying there for but by the time I hauled myself up I was so hungry I thought I was losing it. Went through a box of cereal, a sleeve of Ritz crackers, and the next thing I knew I was in the papas’ kitchen making a bag of popcorn. Don’t remember getting there and don’t remember coming back up to my rooms but the next morning I was tucked in bed. So weird.”

He chuckles nervously as if he wasn’t the one to find you wandering the kitchens stoned out of your gourd and put you there.

“Ha yes…weird. That’s…that’s all you remember?”

“Mmhmm. Talk about the devil’s lettuce. Was pissed I didn’t have any cereal the next morning, though.”

“Let’s move onto the next, hmm?” He’s a little louder than necessary but you don’t question his suspicious behavior.

“Yeah sure. Hit me.”

“Eh, greed.”

“Hmm,” you ponder and he hears the back of your head thunk against the wood of the booth. “Damn, this is a hard one.”

“It usually is, funnily enough. You can always skip it, if you like.”

“No, no, no,” you say, leaning forward, “I’m trying to get the full set, let me cook.”

That actually makes him laugh out loud. How he adores you so.

“Greed, greed, greed,” you mutter to yourself, “Ah…greed would include covetousness, yeah?”

“Mmm, is there something or perhaps…someone you have been coveting?”

It’s a leading question and he knows this as he hears your breath quicken. It’s at this point in his fantasies where you confess your adoration for him, where he flees the confines of his side of the booth to fall to his knees before you and worship you as Sathanas intended. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he tastes the bitter tang of his paints which distracts him for a moment when he hears you say–

“Yes. There is someone.”

The silence is deafening between the two of you and his heart thuds against his ribcage, desperate for you reach over and tear it from his chest. He flexes his hands, the leather squeaking as the both of you sit with the words.

“O-oh?” he finally manages to stutter. He can see your eyes are shut and hears you loudly swallow.

“I, um,” you begin, “yeah. There is someone I’ve wanted for…a long time. I…I think he–I mean they–might reciprocate but…”

Tell her, you fool.

“Can we do the next one, actually?” your voice is so painfully soft and his stomach drops. She is doing you a kindness, his brain cruelly provides, by not telling you of who she truly wants. A sibling, perhaps. Or perhaps…one of your fratelli. The thought pains him so he nearly doubles over on himself as if being punched in the gut. Pride, envy, wrath, sloth, gluttony, greed.

Lust.

He’s startled by the sound of his own voice and you are too judging from the way you twitch. From his obscured view you look positively horrified, as if you had forgotten about this one.

“I haven’t been with anyone,” you blurt out, sounding both panicked and deeply embarrassed. He hardly recognizes his own voice as he responds with uncharacteristic calmness.

“Lustful acts…do not always have to involve another person.”

Now why the fuck would he say that? He can see your eyes widen and even in the dim light of the confessional he registers the violent blush on your cheeks.

“Oh I…oh.”

You raise a hand up to rub aggressively at your face, breathing deep.

“In that case, yes,” you finally say and his gut clenches, “I have indulged in the sin of lust.”

“A-about the person you covet?” He’s pushing it but he can’t help himself, can’t help the hope that simmers in his belly and makes his pants tighten.

“Mmm…mhmm,” you respond and you open your mouth to speak but hesitate. When you finally do, there’s a new tone to your voice - something low. Sensual.

“It’s…good. Fuck it’s good. When I think about them I-I go a little insane. I want them so fucking badly and it’s so easy to think about them and what they could do to me. What I would let them do to me.”

His fist flies to his mouth to stifle the whine that threatens to escape from him and his cock throbs underneath his cassock. He can feel your eyes on him, see your lips parted and it makes him lightheaded. Focus. Focus. Go over there and fuck her against this goddamned confessional. Focus.

“Sathanas bless you, tesoro,” he finally ekes out, his voice hoarse, “in celebrating your body a-and your desire you have made Him proud. Well done.”

A beat passes until you clear your throat. He thinks if he doesn’t tend to his dick soon he’s going to pass out.

“That’s all of them then, right? Got the full set?”

“Mmhmm. You can go if you like.”

“Didn’t you say there’s another blessing at the end?”

Satan damn your ability to vex him when he needs relief…and you…the most.

“Eh, yes. In nomine Padre, et Filio, e-et lo Spiritus Malum,” Cazzo what was the rest of it? “Ah…Sathanas bless this most sacred sinner for reveling in her transgressions against God. Nema.”

“Cool, well uh. Goodnight Copia. This has been…enlightening.”

“It certainly has,” he mutters under his breath, fingers itching to adjust his bulge. He’s not sure if you heard him or not because in an instant you’ve opened the booth and skittered down the nave to the door. He doesn’t breathe again until he hears you firmly shut it behind you and within seconds he’s fumbling for the hem of his cassock. He knows the likelihood that you were talking about him is slim but simply entertaining the thought that it could be has him unzipping his pants with vicious determination. When his cock finally, blessedly meets leather he could cry with relief. He knows he’s dribbling pre on himself but he doesn’t care - all that matters is the way you sounded confessing your lustful actions to him and how it drives his fist back and forth. Oh, how sweet you were. Tempting even when you weren’t trying to be. How he would revel in ruining you. The thought makes him double over, his unoccupied hand pressed against the wall of the booth in an attempt to stabilize himself. When he thinks of you eagerly spreading yourself open for him a broken moan escapes his lips, hips rutting upwards into his grip. What sweet little noises you would make - right there, Copia, please, that’s it - your body eager to yield to his touch.

“Dolcezza,” he grits out, “ragazza perfetta mia. S-so good–ah–for y-your Cardinal.”

His hand is a blur as it rockets along his shaft and he grunts into the silent chapel. He thinks of you looking up at him with that heart-shatteringly kind look on your face, your lips in a soft smile and he cries out, his seed painting his grucifix in desperate spurts. His mind is fuzzy but his hand doesn’t slow, determined to wrench every last drop out of himself until his head falls back and hits the wood of the booth. Groggily, he puts himself away and lowers his cassock before stumbling out of the confessional. His spend drips onto the stone floor but it matters little - surely it’s not the first that floor has seen. All of a sudden he’s exhausted - feeling every second of his five decades - as he blows out candle after candle. When his task is complete he trudges to the door and rests his forehead on the wood for a moment.

He thinks of your smile once more.

#cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

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her-satanic-wiles · 8 months

Text

October 12th

Medical Play, Papa Emeritus III x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Medical play; GN!Reader; dom!Reader?; cringey Terzo; subby!Terzo; established relationship; latex kink?; glove kink; hand job; mild praise; anal fingering; taunting; mild degradation; mild humiliation; power kink; mild edging; cum eating; cumswap; reads like an 80s porno; awful medical terminology, I'm sorry to all the doctors and nurses reading this lmao;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

The graveyard shift was always the worst - or rather, the slowest. As most of the Siblings were asleep in the dead of the night, you had free roam of the medical centre of the Ministry. Not that there was ever much to see given that it was hardly decorated and filled to the brim with medicine and multiple medical journals, all of which you’d perused on your off or slow hours.

Thankfully, your job was always made easier by the fact that no one in the Ministry was stupid enough to get themselves into a lot of trouble. Even during the day, the worst injury you’d seen was someone’s ritual or blood play wounds get infected, but thankfully it was easy enough to sort out. It was the most difficult thing, becoming a doctor and going through university - even getting a job within the Ministry itself was a difficult task. The job itself though - paid to read books mostly.

Though, it was different that night. Your socked feet were up on your desk and a book was in your lap. You were, of course, reading what your friends liked to call your “dirty girl books”, when there was a gentle knock at the door. “Come in!” You called. Immediately you brought your feet off the desk and put your bookmark in the book, hiding it from the view of your guest. You still didn’t want to appear unprofessional, even though there was no one around… well, almost no one.

The door opened to reveal a smaller man, black hair and wrinkles. You recognised him instantly. “Good morning, Papa.” You said, standing to your feet out of respect.

“Ah, hello, doctor. I hope I am not disturbing you while you are busy?” Terzo stood there in the doorway uncharacteristically awkward in his demeanour and make up chipping from his face. He looked tired.

You looked at the clock: four o’clock. It was so early. “I always have time for you, Papa. How can I help you?”

“Ah, it is a little embarrassing, doctor.”

“Whatever it is I’m here to help, judgment-free.”

This was the moment you’d been waiting for. The thing is - you weren’t Terzo’s personal physician. Given the nature of their job and the importance of their status, each of the Papas had their own personal physicians at their beck and call all times of the day and night. You weren’t part of that club, rather, dealing with the rest of the Ministry including the Ghouls and the Clergy. You may not have been Terzo’s physician, but you were his partner… so to speak. This whole arrangement had been set up and pre-decided weeks ago, and when he had time, he’d drop in to see you with some “medical emergency” and you would be the doctor to “treat him”. You would pretend not to know each other which was the most crucial part of the whole scene. So now you were just waiting for Terzo to say his next line, not that you knew what his next line was.

“Well you see, I am an old man. And my, how do you say? My dick is broken.”

This fucking guy.

“Okay, in what way?”

“It doesn’t stand for very long. It grows tired very quickly, like me. Or my fratello.”

Please don’t compare your penis to your brothers.

“R-right.” You blinked at him a few times, not quite expecting him to be so forthcoming with his “issue” - or even quite so chaotic. “Please come and take a seat on the bench for me.” He did as you instructed. “Would you mind unbuttoning your shirt, Papa?”

“Ah, doctor, that is the other thing. My fingers are tired today, too. I am afraid they can’t unbutton anything.”

Of course they can’t.

He looked at you and gave you the biggest shit-eating grin, clearly eating up his role. Despite knowing Terzo as intimately as you did for a number of years, he still managed to find ways to fluster you.

You moved forward, trying your best not to smile and keep it “professional”, but the excitement within him was simply radiating off of him and infecting you. He was, for lack of a better term, buzzing with it. Your fingers carefully began to unbutton his white shirt and avoiding his gaze, but you could feel it on you. His mischievous eyes studying you and your expression so intently you were sure it would leave a mark.

Once his incredibly hairy chest was completely exposed to you, you took the stethoscope from around your neck and set yourself up to use it. “This may be a little cold.” You warned before placing the bell over his heart. Of course, this wasn’t a real check up, so it didn’t matter what you heard. In fact, you were only doing this for his benefit because you knew he’d want it.

“Can you hear that, doctor?” He asked.

“There’s nothing unusual.”

“But my heart, you should hear that it beats only for you.”

This. Fucking. Guy.

It took everything in you not to blush or react to his words in any way. “Okay, I think we should do a few tests just to make sure everything’s okay. Would you mind removing your pants, Papa?”

You took a step back and allowed Terzo to stand from the bench and do as you’d asked. You looked away to feign privacy, despite the fact that you’d been up close and personal with that part of his body for a long while. But out the corner of your eye, you noticed that the little shit had decided to forgo underwear. How you were surprised was a mystery unto itself.

“You know, doctor, usually I buy ladies dinner before I let them undress me in their offices.” He teased.

“Usually ladies don’t examine you for erectile dysfunction.” You taunted back. “Are you ready, Papa?”

“Of course, doctor. I await your professional opinion.” He plonked himself back up on the bed and leant back confidently, completely exposing himself to you. He was enjoying this game a little too much for your liking. You began prepping your hands, first sanitizing them then putting latex gloves on to keep up appearances. When you moved back over to him, you noticed that his mismatched eyes were heavily trained on you, only moving when you did and fixating on your gloved hands. Time to bullshit your way through this. “To make sure you can maintain a healthy erection, we need to give you one first. Is this normally something you have a problem with?”

“Not at all. Usually my partner is able to get me up just by looking at me.”

You nodded. “So you won’t need any help from me today, then?”

“On the contrary, doctor. My partner is not here, and so I am having trouble. Please take care of me.”

He gave you the best doe eyes he could muster knowing that it would work on you because it usually did. And so, you nodded, and poured some of the office’s lubricant onto your hand. “This will be cold.” You warned him.

As soon as your lubed hand made contact he hissed and jumped, perhaps making more of a show of it than he ought to. Your hand began to work away at his flaccid length, which was filling up with blood a lot quicker than you anticipated. With each tight stroke of your hand, Terzo’s hips bucked slightly. He wasn’t quite ready or sensitive enough for it to feel mind-numbingly good, but the little breaths and whimpers he was releasing was proof enough that it was working. One of his own gloved hands came up to your arm and gripped onto it, trying to keep himself grounded. The other hand grasped onto the bench with as much force as he could.

You tightened your grip and began focusing entirely on the head of his cock, making sure he was feeling as much pleasure as possible. The feeling of the lubed latex on his head had his mind reeling. His eyes were tightly shut, his bottom lip had been taken into his mouth and trapped between his teeth. He was trying so hard to keep up the pretense but he was obviously feeling good. You decided to be a bitch. “Tell me, Papa, what do you usually do to keep the erection?”

“What?” He asked, opening his eyes and coming to his senses.

“Well, this is a new problem, isn’t it? What usually works? What usually feels good?”

Terzo, whom you had never seen so flustered before, gulped and took in a sharp inhale before continuing. “M-my partner usually uses their mouth.”

“Where?”

“What?”

“Where does their mouth go?”

“M-my cock and sometimes my a-asshole.”

You moved your other hand to his taint and then to the rim of his hole. “Here?”

“Yes! Merda! There!”

Then, all of a sudden, you removed all of your hands and took a step back. “You seem to be healthy, Papa. I think maybe you’re just stressed.”

His eyes were wide and he couldn’t quite believe you’d done that. “What?”

“Lack of sleep can also be a cause of dysfunction. Do you get enough sleep?”

“Yes. Doctor, I- I am confused.”

“What with?”

“Well, I… you… stopped.”

“Of course, Papa. You needed help maintaining an erection, we’ve since discovered that you don’t struggle with that regularly, and you’re certainly not now.”

“You can’t just leave me like this.” He gestured to his now angrily erect cock before muttering something in Italian, clearly irritated by you.

“Maybe if you were to ask nicely, I might help you out.”

Terzo hesitated for a second, clearly wanting to say something but not wanting to either be so desperate that he begs for it, but also being to embarrassed to say anything. He was perhaps the filthiest person you knew, never shy or bashful, but apparently when his partner had the upper hand he was a total mess.

“Per favore.”

“Not good enough. Try again.”

“Will you… help me out?”

“Sure, what with?”

“Porca puttana! Make me cum… please, Doctor.”

He almost forgot himself.

You stood and sauntered back over to him applying more lube to your gloved hand as you passed that shelf. “Good boy.” You told him with a teasing smile, wrapping his cock back up in your hand and continuing exactly where you left off. “Nothing wrong with you now, is there? You’re keeping it up well enough, aren’t you?”

The same hand that was gripping onto the bed had moved up onto your shoulder, a gorilla grip on it. His eyes were open but focused on the wall, glazed over a little in the sheer pleasure your hand was providing. Your other hand went straight back to the rim and began rubbing over it again. His noises got louder when you did, hips having a mind of their own. The position wasn’t great so you got him to sit back, keeping him width-ways on the bench with his cheeks on the edge and his feet propped up and legs spread. You cursed your boss for giving you the wrong chair to use for today, what you would have killed to use the gynecology chair with the stirrups. It would have humiliated him so much to be so exposed. He would have loved it. Though he looked like such a whore in this position, you thought perhaps this was more humiliating.

With more lube on your hands, one went back to his head, and the other started pushing inside his hole. His mouth dropped open in a perfect ‘O’ and his brow furrowed, the pleasure almost overwhelming him. “We do have to make sure all parts of you are working correctly, hm? Especially this nice little button in here.”

“Cazzo!”

Only your pinkie was inside him at the moment. You didn’t want to hurt him and as he hadn’t pre-stretched himself out, you thought it was best to take your time. You wiggled it around a little, trying to make his hole fit two of your better, and kept at it until he was lose enough. Eventually, your index and middle fingers were able to fit inside him, and so you went in search of that button you mentioned. “Touch your cock for me.” You instructed. Like the obedient whore he was today, he did as you asked, wrapping his own hand around the head and moving quickly. “Ah-ah.” You scolded. “Slow down.”

“But-”

“Slow!”

His hand gradually put the breaks on, dropping to an almost torturous level. You could see how much it pained him. Given the fluttering of his hole around your two fingers, you could tell he was already too close. He was too overwhelmed. He needed that sweet release that you were refusing to give him. Why? Why wouldn’t you just make him cum? Why would you drag it out as much as you did? He couldn’t fathom it. But he was so desperate to finish he couldn’t ask you to stop.

This was a completely different man in front of you. The head of the Satanic Church was riding your fingers in your office as if he didn’t hold all of the power. Because right now he didn’t. You did. In his desperate need to cum, he was obeying your orders down to the letter. He was whining and writhing for you and only you. No one else got to see him like this: his entire body on fire and chasing a release he’d practically been begging for since he entered the medical ward, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth where it had opened so wide, and loud moans were spilling out with it. His pants completely removed and his white shirt unbuttoned completely. He was positively sinful right now - a proper Babylonian whore giving himself to another for his own pleasure. And oh how he sang for you when you reached that spot. How he stopped breathing when you finally hit it. How expletives poured from his lips to cope with the devastating bliss your fingers were giving him. Choruses of “yes!” and “right there!” and “don’t stop!” providing him comfort while you had your way with him. His own hand matched yours and as you got faster, so did he. He was so close. He could almost taste the sweet release that was on its way to him.

It was when your hands came up to play with his balls he finally tipped over the edge. Cum spurted from his cock and pooled over his hairy stomach, and even reaching up his chest in the intensity of the orgasm he was experiencing. His toes curled and his body seized up. You were, the whole time, talking him through it. “That’s it,” you told him, “give it all to me, Papa. Give me everything. Such a good boy.”

When you were sure he was fine, you gently removed yourself from inside him and bent forward, your tongue running through his spend and lapping it up into your mouth, keeping it there. You looked up at him and saw his eyes were ablaze with something. More lust? Frustration that you were doing something so sexy and he was too tired to do anything about it? You weren’t entirely sure. But the moan he released when you kissed him, swapping his cum from your mouth to his was enough to tell you all was forgiven… at least for now.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

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stupid-sloot-headcanons · 18 days

Text

Doctor/VampireF!Darling: Trapped in Amber

Commissioned by: Anonymous

Word Count: 3300

TW: Noncon, breeding, pregnancy mention

The Doctor hadn’t had the chance to keep a live vampiric specimen long-term before. Examining them, repairing the damage to valuable soldiers like Rip van Winkle, those were common. But keeping one was something he hadn’t gotten to do yet. He’d assured the Major that a pet wouldn’t interfere with his work; if anything, he could do all sorts of research on his pet that he hadn’t had the chance to try yet. The Major had indulged him and during Zorin’s latest mission, he’d had her go hunting for a virgin (something the Doctor had insisted on) to bring back. “Herr Doctor wants a pet to experiment with, so try to find a suitable maiden for him,” he’d ordered. “And try not to break her, please!”

A few days later and the Doctor was peering down at his freshly-turned vampire while she stood terrified in the middle of the room. Despite her newfound strength and power, she still looked so delicate staring at him with wide eyes. “I…Madame Zorin said that she isn’t in charge of me anymore,” she stammered, her voice hollow. “Please, maybe you can help me. Just let me go, I swear I won’t say anything and I won’t–”

“It wouldn’t be right to let you go on your own now that you’ve acquired this…new condition,” The Doctor interrupted. “There’s a lot you need to learn about being undead, and as your doctor I’m going to make sure you adjust to your new body as well as possible.” He placed two gloved hands on her shoulders. “First, I’m going to give you a physical exam. Your body’s gone through a significant change, hasn’t it?”

____ sniffled and nodded. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she murmured. “I know that I’m a…a vampire. But everything about me feels so off.”

“I’ll help you ‘settle’ into your new form,” The Doctor replied soothingly. “First, let’s take your temperature.” He reached for a thermometer and cupped ____’s chin, gently pressing his thumb on her bottom lip. She complied and let him slip the metal under her tongue. “Vampires obviously have a low temperature compared to humans,” he explained. “But it’s always good to measure a baseline.” He reached for a sterile syringe and took a few blood samples for safekeeping. “These needles are made with a special polymer; a normal one wouldn’t have been able to pierce your lovely skin.” His fingers brushed the already-healed wound in her arm, and ____ felt a bit of anxiety bubble up within her chest.

“No need to check your heartbeat, of course,” The Doctor said with a smirk. “Now, did Madame Zorin–as you call her–did she explain to you the difference between a vampire and a ghoul?”

____ shook her head. “What’s a ghoul? They’re real too?”

Gott, she was so doe-eyed and naive. The Doctor nodded, his spectacles hiding the glint in his eyes as he scanned her body. She didn’t know anything about this new world he’d dragged her into. “While I’ve perfected my method of creating artificial vampires, a traditionally made one is different. Anyone can become a vampire with my formula, provided their body handles the process.You were made into a vampire, and you were lucky enough to be unconscious when Madame Zorin administered it to you.” ____’s stomach churned at the hazy memories of the nightmares she had after that terrifying monster had snatched her from her home and knocked her out with a solid strike to her head. It almost felt like she hadn’t woken up yet.

“But when a human is bitten by a true vampire, they either become another vampire or a ghoul. What determines their fate is if they’re…ah, chaste.”

If ____ could blush anymore, she would have. Why exactly was he bringing this up? “Oh,” she replied awkwardly. That explained one of the first things Zorin had asked her after breaking into her home and slamming her against the wall with a chokehold. You have the right scent, but I need to make sure. Are you a virgin? If you lie to me, I’ll smear your guts all over these walls, Gnat. “But…You just said anyone could become an artificial vampire. So that doesn’t matter, right?” And why did Zorin ask her if it didn’t matter?

The Doctor labelled the vials of her blood and set them into storage for the time being. “I wanted the purest subject possible,” he replied coolly. “Not that purity matters from a moral context for my research, but I’ve got a few theories that virginal subjects become stronger vampires through my process. The details would bore you, I’m afraid. Don’t worry about all of that, Fraulein.”

____ didn’t push the matter further and allowed the Doctor to poke and prod at her body with all sorts of medical devices as he explained how her new body worked. When she’d started to cry as she realized she would likely never feel or see sunlight again, the Doctor had placed a hand on her head and let her cry against him. “There, there,” he replied softly with a slightly condescending smile. “It’s not all terrible, you know, being a vampire. You may become strong enough to be exposed to sunlight without much pain or discomfort. Your stamina and strength are superhuman, and so are your senses.” He stroked Darling’s hair and moved closer. “Let’s move onto the next test, hmm? I want you to show off this newfound endurance of yours, and have you try an experimental medicine of mine.”

“Medicine?” ____ shifted uncomfortably. “If vampires are so superhuman, why would I need medicine?”

The Doctor went to the medical storage unit nearby and retrieved a small pill. “It’s a preventative medicine,” he explained smoothly. “Like a multivitamin, you see?” He filled a cup with water and handed it to her, and placed the pill in her other hand. “Let me know if you feel anything odd after taking it.”

____ hesitated, but eventually placed the pill in her mouth and swallowed. Judging by the soldiers she’d seen and how sadistic Zorin had been, she was better off not refusing any requests the Doctor made. After drinking the water, the Doctor grabbed a notepad and eagerly watched her. “Any nausea? Do you feel warmer than you did before?”

“No, not really,” she replied. “I did just take it, though–” She jolted forward slightly at a sudden heat making her break out in a light sweat. The Doctor scribbled in his notepad and quickly reached for the thermometer to check her temperature again.

“A few degrees warmer,” he murmured to himself. “Not as extreme as the other subjects though…” Before she could ask about those other subjects, he held her down onto the table and locked her wrists and ankles in place using the metal cuffs at the ends of the medical cot. “Until the symptoms subside and your treatment’s over, I’ll have to restrain you.”

____ frantically tried to pull herself up, to run out of the room, to get as far away as possible from this room and these monsters. “What did you make me take? What happened to the other people who took it?”

The Doctor turned toward the camera placed in the ceiling in one corner of the lab, displaying everything in the room. “Current time is 20:17,” he said briskly. “Moving to the next stage of the trial.” He returned to the table, grabbed a scalpel, and promptly sliced at ____’s clothes before discarding the scraps. “This pill is a form of contraceptive,” he explained with a smile. “You see, I’ve wanted a pet for myself but my artificial vampires can still wind up pregnant. And while the research potential for those offspring has done wonders, they always wind up attacking their hosts and destroy them.” He placed a hand on ____’s stomach. “They vampirize from the inside, and once they develop all their basic organs, they…well, they consume the first source of blood they can–their mothers.”

____ screamed and desperately kicked at the Doctor. “After the first few trials, I decided to try developing a contraceptive. But the side effects in women who weren’t virgins were quite unfortunate. I’m still working on a report explaining the biology behind it. But my virginal subjects survived without any major side effects! I lent them to my assistants as rewards for procuring them in the first place. But the whole point of this endeavour was to take someone for myself…” He groped ____’s breast and she whimpered. “That’s why you’re here, Schatz.”

She tried to bite at his hand, but he simply chuckled. “Do I need to muzzle you?” He moved his other hand to spiral his thumb around her clitoris, and she squeezed her thighs shut. “The increase in temperature is a side effect of my newest versions of the compound. It helps with your, ah, self-lubrication.” He slipped a finger inside of her and eased her thighs back apart with his knee. “One of my earlier subjects had vaginismus, so I offered to ease her burden whenever my assistant wanted to enjoy her company. A kind gesture, no?”

____ felt the bile in her throat rise, and the knot in her stomach grew and coiled tighter and tighter as she felt a heat rising thanks to that damned pill. “Nothing about you is kind,” she spat. “You’re evil, you’re a monster, you’re—”

The Doctor circled his thumb faster and easily slipped another finger inside of her wet heat. “Believe me, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” he replied with a smirk. “Still, you don’t realize how lucky you are. The experiments I’ve carried out on the gurney you’re laying on top of…” He rubbed a spot inside of her walls that left her clenching her fists and moaning as she involuntarily bucked against his hand. “Zombies, countless vampiric hybrids, cyborgs made of kidnapped POWs, civilians…A flashlight made from the circuits of a human brain, still active and alive. One of my first side projects, done on a whim.” He sighed contentedly as ____ came around him, cupping her cheek with the hand that had previously been assaulting her breast. “That’s it, pet,” he crooned. “Ha-ha…You know, your essence is probably the purest thing to ever cover my hands.”

____ cried and turned her head in disgust, and she felt like curling up as she felt that hunger in her core so soon after reaching her peak. The Doctor removed his gloves, and then his trousers as he turned Darling’s head to face him again. “Vampires have remarkable stamina,” he reminded them with a breathless laugh. “My medicine certainly helps, but I can tell you’re eager for another go already.”

She whimpered as the Doctor climbed on top of her and wrapped one arm around her waist to pull her up slightly towards him. “Time for the best part of these trial tests,” he said softly. He lined his cock up with ____’s dripping entrance and eased himself inside of her walls with slow strokes of his hips. The two of them sighed and gasped at the sensation, and The Doctor leaned down to suck and lick at her breasts with his tongue, lightly biting down with his teeth while she whined and mewled. When he pulled away, a strand of saliva shone on her skin and left her feeling disgusted. “Poor thing, you’re crying,” he remarked with a condescending smile. He moved his head to hover over ____’s; long strands of pale blond hair fell around her like a curtain and tickled her cheeks. “Perhaps a kiss will make you feel better?”

He slowly lowered his head down to press his lips against hers as she glared up at him. In an instant, ____ clamped her jaw shut and sunk her fangs into the skin and flesh around his mouth. The scent of spilled blood made her pupils dilate and made goosebumps sprout on her skin, and his sudden surprised gasp gave her a rush of confidence. If she couldn’t free herself from these cuffs, then she could at least vent her hate and disgust and righteous anger and impale this ghoulish man who’d ruined her life.

He put his arms on her sternum for leverage and shoved his head further against her until her bite strength weakened a bit. When he jerked his head back, a stream of blood dripped down both sides of his mouth in two grisly lines and dripped onto her bare skin. The Doctor wiped his face with his sleeve and stared down at ____ with shining eyes. “You’re so spirited now, Schatz! It looks like my kiss restored your strength after all,” he said with a mad smile. “So there’s no need for me to be so delicate, is there?”

He gripped ____’s waist and without any further warning or time to brace herself, The Doctor rammed his cock into her at a rapid speed. She screamed at the repeated stretch of her walls and the blunt head of his member invading an even deeper part of her than before, over and over and over. The Doctor’s blood on her tongue was a strange comforting sensation amidst the torture the rest of her body was being put through; something about it seemed to make her feel slightly sated, and the metallic taste was something she didn’t even realized she had been craving.

Having no way to grab The Doctor to support herself, much less fight back, she clenched her fists and begged her captor to please, please slow down. Every syllable she let out was punctuated by his thrusts. “Puh-please,” she cried. “Stop, stop, sto-o-o-op…”

The Doctor toyed with her breasts and leaned down to kiss and bite at her neck as he felt himself coming closer and closer to sweet release. “Any second now,” he groaned. “You’re better than I possibly could have imagined, so much better than the rest, mein Engel…” He knew that this time, this formula, this subject would be the one. He could enjoy her as much and as often as he wanted. “That’s it, that’s it–”

His eyes rolled back slightly as he buried himself up to the hilt inside of her and came with a sharp cry. Tears streamed down ____’s face as she felt his cum flood her walls and his cock twitched inside of her. “Done…it’s done,” she panted. “No more…”

The Doctor hummed lazily while he rested in the crook of her neck, giving disgustingly gentle kisses to her soft skin. “Hmm? What do you mean, Engel?”

“You finished,” she said bitterly, refusing to open her eyes as she prayed she could just fall asleep and escape from this nightmare. “So it’s over. Just…get off of me, you got what you wanted!”

He raised an eyebrow and smiled; even with his face hidden, ____ shivered with fear as his lips turned up against her neck. “But it’s too soon–far too soon,” he whined. “I gave you an extra boost of energy, so I’ll do the same for myself.” He pressed a finger to the back of his neck and ____ heard a strange quiet whirring of machinery and the sound of a small bit of fluid rushing through a pump. The Doctor sighed contentedly and raised his head to peck the tip of Darling’s nose. “There we go. A little endorphin boost is all I needed. Let’s continue, shall we?”

She felt his cock start to stiffen inside of her, pulsing around her walls and forcing a small stream of cum to trickle down her thighs. “No, no more, please,” she begged. “I can’t do any–”

The Doctor knocked the breath out of her lungs as he fucked her at the same furious pace he’d had before. The metal restraints clanged as the medical table jostled back and forth, and a jerk of his arm as he pushed himself up for an even better angle knocked the tray of scalpels and her medical file onto the floor. “You can do anything I want you to,” he said with a sickeningly gentle sigh. “You can take everything I give you, and then heal nice and quickly so I can give you even more.”

____ felt herself coming closer to another unwanted peak and tried to turn her body away from The Doctor to no avail. He moved his gloved hands down one to her thighs and pushed her leg up, causing the chain to strain and pull as the shackle around her ankles rose along with her legs. “Getting close again,” he moaned. “Ha…By the time we’re done tonight, you’ll look like the volunteers from my werewolf fertility trials…” He moved his other hand to press against her abdomen. “All filled up like a little Windbeutel pastry.” He let out a shivery giggle that made the hairs on ____’s body stand on end.

His panting became more and more rapid and ____ could feel him starting to dig his fingers into her hip and her thigh. “Yes, yes, that’s it,” he said with gritted teeth. His thrusts were so fast and brutal that the entire table had started to shake violently with each movement. “You too, Schatz, you’ve earned it!” He moved his hand from her hip to feverishly rub circles into her stiff bud, finally pushing ____ over the edge once again. The cross between a moan, a sob, and a squeal that came from her throat was so pathetic and inhuman that she couldn’t even recognize it as her own voice. All she could focus on was that unbearable heat, fullness, and ache inside of her that her captor was inflicting upon her.

Her head felt like it was full of cotton and for a few blissful moments, she felt like she was far, far away from her own body and from The Doctor. Every sound was muffled and echoed, as if it were underwater. Maybe there was a miracle, some higher power out there that had taken pity on her and drowned that sick twisted monster and was washing her away to somewhere safe. She felt random sensations, all dulled: her bare feet walking along cold metal, warm water covering her skin, two hands–one gloved, the other bare, and both leaving her with a sense of dread–gently patting her face before some layers of cloth cocooned her. The world faded to black, and ____ lacked the will to do anything but let the currents take her wherever they wished. She

When she awoke, she found that there was no such thing as miracles.

The cold steel from the clinic had been replaced by a mattress that seemed too comfortable for her to exist in after what she’d been through. That comfort and warmth soon faded when she realized there was someone else in the bed with her, keeping one arm around her and murmuring something.

“That is a very Earthling question to ask, Mr. Pilgrim. Why you? Why us for that matter? Why anything? Because this moment simply is. Have you ever seen bugs trapped in amber?”

____ looked up and saw The Doctor holding a book with a slightly faded cover. He felt her body shift slightly and he looked down at her with a smile, stroking her shoulder and letting out a bemused chuckle when she whimpered and curled against him.

“Relax, Engele. No more for now.”

She simply retreated further underneath the sheets and silently cried as he continued reading to her. “Yes.” “Well, here we are, Mr. Pilgrim, trapped in the amber of this moment. There is no why.”

#.hellsing #.doctor #yandere hellsing #yandere doctor #fem darling #tw: noncon #tw: breeding #.myshit #commissions

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hamliet · 10 days

Note

Less of a question but I was never an avid manga reader till 2019 and mha was the first manga I kept track of weekly, and I read Tokyo ghoul after it ended, and seeing everyone be dissatisfied with how Tokyo ghoul ended after keeping up weekly is something I’m reminded of after seeing the latest chapter of mha. So this is what it feels like to witness 6 years of a character you hold in high regard be undermined(to put it lightly). I’m rather sad, but I can’t help but feel fondness for shigaraki even if the way he ended wasn’t satisfying, how do u feel about how mha has gone?

Yeah it does feel very reminiscent of Tokyo Ghoul in that they just went "ah yes, killing the right people is actually how we solve world issues." Which I find morally reprehensible, but also genuinely bad writing because the story as a whole doesn't support this message.

@linkspooky explained in her meta yesterday why Deku has completely failed as a character, and why the manga has failed thematically as a story. I'm just gonna say I completely agree with Link.

To be fair, I'm not sure Shigaraki is dead dead, but either way, it's bad writing and it doesn't conclude his arc with any sort of satisfactory element. Like, why would Shigaraki see Deku as different than anyone else who tried to punch him? That's nonsensical and written from the POV of an audience, not from Shigaraki's POV. It's like in Star Wars when Rey calls herself "Rey Skywalker" when she knew Luke for 3 days and none of the people she was actually close to (Leia, Han, Ben) were Skywalkers. That's writing for the audience, with their perspective, ignoring the logic of your story. It defies believability because the character does not have that perspective. It's "forced" because the audience can see the hand of the author.

If Shigaraki is dead dead... Not gonna Star Wars this one again, but since I also hated the ending of The Rise of Skywalker, I must make a comparison. The idea that Deku may have saved Shigaraki's heart but couldn't save his body (which to be honest, nothing in the actual chapter supports, but if he stays dead might be the argument) is still bad writing. Why? Because to Shigaraki didn't even make the decision himself. He didn't sacrifice anything. How can his heart be saved if he had nothing to do with it? Saving an object is easy as pie. Saving a person is different, and that's what the whole story has been about. Like, in TROS, Kylo Ren gave his life for Rey! Was it stupid? Yes! But at least his "saved heart" did something. Shigaraki's saved heart did what exactly?

So then, is the message that Deku failed? Then why isn't it framed as a failure? Why was BNHA never set up to be a grimdark tragedy? If he failed, then shouldn't he have a miserable ending? Unless it's "heroes always become bad guys and life is unfair," but then shouldn't Deku be framed critically?

Basically, Horikoshi can't come back writing-wise from this in BNHA, and it's sad to see.

Horikoshi's biggest flaw throughout the entire story was that he kept flip-flopping on what he wanted to say, and made the characters more about his trying to please every single fan than about being, well, characters to explore important questions he has that are worthwhile. And you can do this while still having a "cool" factor!

Instead the characters tell us one thing while cocooning Deku in the sweet bliss that no one ever has on this earth--being 100% right all the time. And it's sad, because BNHA had so much potential as a story to challenge its audience and entertain too.

I thought even if it flopped in some aspects it'd at least get this right. It's disappointing.

Anyways every day that goes by I want to send Isayama and his editors flowers for actually writing a thematically coherent ending, even if some aspects were dropped or messy along the way.

#ask hamliet #bnha #mha

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divine-misfortune · 2 months

Note

where it hurts kiss w/mountain and zephyr pls <3

High zeph getting loved on

Glass brought to their lips, Zephyr startled slightly. A muddled sound of confusion as they slipped from the clouds, jarring to be pulled back to earth so abruptly after floating for so long. Millions of miles away in some comfortable haze, they'd almost forgotten where their body resided - nearly forgot they were anything more than fog skimming the water in some secret place, that there was ever a physical body to begin with. Fighting to remember how to open their eyes, they blinked one at a time until they managed to focus on Mountain in front of them.

Him and that crooked little smile.

"Think your tolerance has gone down" Mountain tsked and cupped their jaw, lifting their chin from their chest.

Normally they'd have protested his assistance, loathing the oddly helpless feelings that crept up on them, but they were in no place to do something of the sort. Zephyr was helpless in the moment, too smoked out to even pick up their own head.

Their fang clinked against the rim of the glass as Mountain tipped it, a soft apologetic sound rumbling out of the earth ghoul as water spilled into their otherwise dry mouth. It brought a sort of relief they didn't know they needed, and they drank it down like the nectar of the gods. Chilled and sweetened with a sprig of mint - Mountain never seemed to forget the mint.

"Ah - ah, easy..." He gave their jaw a soft squeeze and pulled the glass away for a moment, earning a low whine of protest. "Gonna waterboard yourself if you don't slow down."

Mountain fixed them a look one might consider stern, but it was still Mountain after all. Always betrayed by his fondness. He was never one for scolding and the like, with Zephyr there was hardly ever a dominant bone to be found within him. The attempted shift in their established dynamic was strange, not necessarily bad but strange to them nonetheless. They'd be grateful for it when they sobered up. In such a state they needed the guidance and the correction that came with it.

Zephyr remembered to nod accordingly, at least tried to. Mountain wouldn't budge an inch until they did.

Seemingly satisfied with their compliance Mountain granted them the remaining reprieve to their cotton mouthed plight. They somehow sagged further into the soft nest of furs and blankets, tail swaying in a lazy but satisfied pattern. It would have been easy to just melt into the soft pile in that far off corner of the greenhouse. Mountain’s old creaky futon felt like the most logical place for them to melt into a boneless heap in their humble, clearly influenced opinion.

"Don't think s’me," Zephyr's words slurred despite themself as their head lolled onto their shoulder. Puffing a stray strip of silver hair from their face, "think your supply got stronger."

"Oh don't go blaming me, you lightweight." Mountain carefully tucked the offending lock behind their feathered ear. If he brushed his fingers over the tips of their feathers just to see them shudder, that was his business. "You look more relaxed chickadee, got that sour look off your face. How's it feel?"

He chuckled softly when their nose scrunched up in thought. The air ghoul pressed their lips into a thin line as they considered their vessel. It was never a simple question. An answer that changed daily, often one extreme or the other. Agony or numbness. Today was the former. A deep hollow ache housed in every bone and joint, joined by the odd cold zing in a randomly selected nerve.

"Mm...Mostly" Zephyr concluded.

"Still a bit achey?" They nodded and Mountain frowned sympathetically, "where does it hurt, love?"

"Hands."

He lifted one hand from where they'd fisted it into the brown fur beneath them and held them carefully in his own. Dainty, almost boney fingers trembled against his palm. Years of ivory keys had worn away at their already limited grace, damned by a vessel intent on wasting away at a pace none of them could have anticipated. He knew whatever relief he, or any of them, could offer them was merely a bandaid to a gunshot wound but he still tried despite it.

"Where?" Mountain asked, turning them palm up to gently knead his thumbs into the meat of their hand.

Groaning lowly, Zephyr mumbled something he didn't quite catch. Their pale eyelashes fluttered against their cheeks and he wanted to kiss the shadows they cast like butterfly wings. Delicate and beautiful as always.

Much like the tree roots knotting through the dirt, he could feel the electricity flickering through their nerves. Palm down, Mountain thumbed over their knuckles. If he focused he could trace their pain like a well worn path, and if he focused further, he could almost assist in conducting the sparks through the fraying wire. Earth magic was mostly situational, but the body's nervous system was close enough to that of a plant to do the trick. It wasn't perfect, but it was another bandaid he could apply.

Replacing the little pattern his thumb had stroked over the back of their hand, he brushed his lips over their knuckles instead. Zephyr blinked their eyes open again, a much more coordinated effort on their part, to watch the earth ghoul bow his head to meet their hand. He kissed the middle joint of their first finger followed by the next. Mountain kissed up each finger with a familiar sort of reverence, such a miniscule act of worship to send their heart stuttering in their chest.

Mountain had an innate ability to make them feel young again without even trying.

At the tip of their pinky finger, Mountain glanced up to their face. Expression gone soft, his copper eyes caught the afternoon light like pools of honey they could have very well fallen into. Zephyr swallowed thickly when his mouth quirked into a shy smile, caught in the act of loving them too blatantly. They swore the fog behind their eyes swirled in the shape of hearts.

Pulling away suddenly, Mountain's brow knit. He began a confused chirp that they didn't give him the chance to finish. Zephyr took his face and clumsily hauled him closer till they could perfectly mold their mouth to his. It was a miracle their teeth didn't crash together. Mountain had to grab the back of the futon to keep himself balanced, head already spinning like Zephyr had snatched the air straight from his lungs.

They cradled his cheek in their left hand and the right snaked back to thread their fingers into the auburn waves at the nape of his neck. Not pulling, simply holding onto him like another anchor point. Brain finally catching up, Mountain's amused exhale fanned warm against their cheeks. His tail coiled around their leg as he eased into the gentle movement of their lips like he had a thousand times before. Kissing the air ghoul was like second nature. Like returning home each time.

Zephyr licked over his bottom lip with no real heat behind it and he couldn't stop himself from letting them in. They drank the sweet sigh off his lips and chased the whine he tried to deny them, pulling it from him like they owned every single reedy sound.

Satisfied or exhausted, Zephyr sat back. Admiring his lips surely tinged as red as their eyes, they short of giggled.

"Fuck..I love you" Mountain breathed, winded. Wanting. The definition of adoration.

#theyre in love this is so fufking soft im gonna die actually #void writing #writing #answered #nameless ghouls #mountain ghoul #zephyr ghoul #mountain x zephyr #zephyr x mountain #the band ghost #the band ghost ficlet #ghost the band

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captain039 · 8 days

Text

Wasteland Heat (Redone)

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Vault!Fem!reader

Warnings: Violence, blood, gore, AOB dynamics, heat, oral F receiving, smut, swearing, fallout stuff, implied cousin incest, virgin reader, drug usage, needles, plus size reader, sexual assault

Our man ghoul will show up in part 2 xD

Going off the show each episode sort of thing with more

Part 1

A ring on your pip boy disturbs your rest, you frown, glance at it and see the words 'Congratulations, you have been accepted for the marriage trade!' it makes you shoot up out of the white hospital bed and glance to the doctor looking at something on the terminal.

"Sir?" You call and he lifts his head with an overly fake smile.

"How can I help?" He asks.

"Ah, my pip boy says I've been accepted for the marriage trade?" You say through the glass window and he frowns just before the overseer walks through.

"Ah, you're awake my dear!" He says happily and you spot Lucy behind him with a smile on her face also. She holds up her pip boy showing the same message as yours and you frown showing yours also.

"Overseer?" You question and he looks to your pip boy with a smile.

"Both my lovely girls are getting married," He says happily and you freeze.

"Married?" You stutter out glancing at Lucy worried.

Your mother is the one who helps you get ready on the day of the trade. The overseer your stepfather hasn't answered any of your questions regarding why you're suddenly allowed out of the hospital area and getting married the same day. It's overwhelming going to other parts of the vault, following behind your mum as she shows you where she stays. She has a dress hung up, just below the knee, made with old curtains it looks like. You gulp a bit at it and follow her beckoning to the vanity desk. You stay quiet as she does your makeup, and hair and helps you get into the dress before giving you a big hug. You didn't hug back it had been too long since she deserved any of your affection. She would always fuss over you during the experiments, or 'doctor appointments' as she called them before leaving you in that hospital room to rest. She never hugged you after those, never comforted your crying during your teen years. You meet up with Lucy who frowns at you instantly knowing that something is wrong. She's been your sister growing up, she was the one who comforted you after those appointments or would spend time with you playing games and watching TV. She holds your hand as you walk down to the vault door that connects the two vaults, everyone from vault 33 behind you both. Norm is teasing Lucy about her future husband's looks while she huffs at him. You're too busy wondering what everything looks like and where you are in the vault, you think you took two rights and one left to get here, just in case you needed to run. Everyone smells so dull and mutated down here, nothing like what you half imagined. You were taught about the natural biology of Alpha, Beta and omegas, and the genetically made ones, but you didn't think it'd be a big difference, not that you've ever met another natural born. You reach the door and stop glancing at Chet who says there has been a malfunction, you frown seeing Lucy go over and whisper softly to him before squeezing his shoulder. The door opens with loud alarms that make you wince and look to the ground so the flashing lights affect you less. The door clunks open and a group walks through, your whole group tenses at their scents, they're all natural borns, you were warned about this.

"Welcome," Your stepfather says forcing his smile.

"I'm Overseer Hank Maclan" He greets.

"Overseer Maldaver" the woman at the front nods her greet.

"We're sorry about the recent passing of the old overseer and your crops, but as agreed we bring you seed for your new crops" your stepfather says behind you.

"Thank you, it was a tragic passing, but with these terms, we bring you two breeders" She says as two men step out of the darkened hallway and into your vault. You stand frigid as the blond stands in front of you smirk on his face scent too overpowering and wrong.

"What are your names?" Lucy puts on a smile.

"Monty" The man standing in front of her says the same weird smirk and gross smell.

"Ethan," The blond says and you nod words unable to form.

"I'm Lucy this is Y/n" Lucy introduces you instead and you thank her silently trying to avoid those overly dull blue eyes staring at you like you're a drug he is addicted to.

The ceremony went smoothly minus your kiss on the cheek instead of the lips act. The 32 vaulters acted a little strange but understandable from their lack of food for this long. You sit and enjoy your meal sitting next to Lucy as she tries to make conversation with her husband. You avoid all eye contact and dread when your stepfather says it is time to dance. You had never been in this part of the vault before, this was all new to you as you danced with your stepfather, then your husband. As the projectors set the sun low and night arrived you dreaded it. The touch he gave made you cringe and you tried your hardest to be a happy new wife.

"Show me our new home?" Ethan whispers and you nod and swallow silently before guiding him to your designated vault home.

"This is it" You say trying to act as if this wasn't all new and how different your life had truly been. You look around as the door hisses shut and arms snake around your waist making you tense.

"So jumpy" He whispers into your neck and you cringe. You want to break free from his hold but have to hold up the act.

"Can I freshen up?" You whisper trying to sound interested.

"Course you can" He chuckles darkly and lets go as you all but run to the bathroom. You close the door and lock it with a loud breath, you struggle to breathe as you switch the shower on and grip the sink. You pull out the pins in your hair, the feeling of it up too tight around your skull. You want to rip this stupid homemade curtain dress off but don't want to be left with no clothes on. You leave the shower on to act like you're in while you slide down onto the cold bathroom floor rest your head in your hands and try to take some breaths.

"Don't be too long omega i can't wait to have a taste" Ethan chuckles on the other side of the door and it makes you want to throw up. You turn the shower off curse the dress and slip it off too before wrapping yourself in a towel and dabbing on some perfume. You hesitate by the door before opening it with a smile as he turns around, suit already half off, arms tied around the waist. You stop in your tracks at the show of muscle and panic a little as he smirks and comes closer. He holds your arms leaning into your neck and inhaling before he pulls back with a frown.

"Why did you put perfume on?" He narrows his eyes at you angrily and you tense and gulp.

"I'm sorry, I can wash it off," You say pointing back to the bathroom but he just growls annoyed.

"Forget it, I will enjoy this while I can" He snaps and roughly drags you to the bed.

"We have our whole lives ahead of us!" You say panicked as he forces his mouth onto your jaw and neck, and kisses roughly. You freeze then, mind blank as he forces the towel to fall to the floor and sees you in your underwear. He gropes your covered breasts before your instinct kicks in and you clench a fist and punch his jaw. He's unprepared for it and you scramble back grabbing a kitchen knife and holding it towards him. He holds his jaw and smirks at you before speaking.

"I like it when they fight" He mutters going to storm forward as alarms blare. You frown distracted and the knife is knocked from your hands, you cry a little before dodging his grab and dart for the bathroom. You lock yourself in quickly and jolt when he bashes loudly on the door, yelling for you to unlock it. You go into the nearest corner and curl in on yourself, hugging your knees as you try to block out the banging, alarms and gunshots.

A loud gunshot goes off as does a thump before a knock comes.

"Sweetheart?" You hear your stepfather and quickly stand ignoring your current attire. You open the door, tears down your face as you hug him tightly.

"You're alright" He sighs in relief arms going around you tightly.

"Let's get you some clothes" He says and heads over to grab a jumpsuit for you before handing it to you. You slip it on and zip it up, wiping your eyes even though more tears just come out.

"Stick close ok?" He says and you nod holding his free hand and following him out of the vault room. It's a massacre, you head to the crops and see Lucy there, you call to her and she runs over and hugs you tightly before your pip boy alerts you of a gate opening and an intruder. You follow your stepfather through the vault before you see who is left from Vault 33 on their knees, beaten with the so called Vault 32 around them.

"I think I know who you are" Your stepfather mutters to the woman Maldaver.

"Everyone knows who I am," She says.

"I'm gonna give you a choice Hank, them or them" She points her gun to you and Lucy and the the rest of vault 33 on their knees. A gun cocks behind you, aimed at Lucy and another cocks and one is aimed at you.

"Life's full of little choices" She says and your stepfather grabs you and Lucy by the arms and drags you into a nearby closet.

"No, no Dad!" Lucy says as he locks the door on you both. Lucy bangs against the door but it's no use as the woman shoots your father in the back with tranqs and two men drag him away.

"Best do what you always do, Run," Maldaver says to the remaining Vault people and disappears down the vault gate. A beeping gets louder and the rest of your vault runs and disappears from view before an explosion goes off. You and Lucy jolt back as the flames hit the door but don't come in. You stare replaying what just happened in your head, the rush of it all as you grip Lucy's hand.

It feels like a long wait before you're finally let out by Steph. She hugs Lucy who hugs her back before she looks at you uncertainly but hugs you anyway. It's nice, the hug she gives before she leads you too back to everyone in the vault who has gathered in the crop field. You see Norm and sigh in relief as Lucy hugs him, you give him a small smile before sitting down by him.

"What has happened is a tragedy" Betty speaks up and you glance at everyone. You only know these people by name though, except Norm and Lucy and Doctor Anderson sitting on the left, the rest are practically strangers despite you all living together.

"But we are strong" Betty continues.

"And we will get through this" She finishes.

It's strange being out of the hospital room and around the Vault, you mainly stick with Lucy on cleaning duties, trying not to gag at the amount of blood that can come from one human. The Vault cleans up quickly and people are returning to regular life, except you. You stay in Lucy's room, well her past husband and her's room. There is a large double bed big enough for the both of you and you've made it your small sanctuary.

"I need to find him" She says one night in the darkness and you roll over to face her.

"If not someone else than me," She says rolling to face you.

"Lucy" you mutter unsure of what to say.

"What can I do?" You ask quietly.

"You can come with me" She says her voice determined but quiet like someone may hear.

"I just got out of the hospital area," You say.

"We can explore the world, find Dad and bring him home! I'll bring it up at the assembly tomorrow" She tries to talk it up but you shake your head with a sigh.

"I'm not built for up there" You mutter. You don't want her to go on her own though and who knows what they will do to you if she's gone. You weren't going back into that hospital area, never again.

"I'll go," You say after some silence and sense her smile.

The assembly suggestion goes down instantly so it's to you, Lucy, Chet, Steph and Norm to get out of this place. With the fight for Overseer place you and Lucy can make preparations in quiet and undisturbed. It takes two days to get ready, two days of pure anxiety just to see the Vault door entrance.

"I'm going with you," Chet says suddenly as he holds the Vault key in a shakey hand as alarms begin to ring.

"You can't" Lucy says and his lower lip trembles.

"Who else will protect you!" He whispers yells and she sighs. You see her grab a tranq from her pocket and press it to Chet's hand.

"Sorry Chet" She mutters as the door slowly opens with creaks and loud groans.

"Don't do it!" You hear behind you making you glance at the two members of the council. You and Lucy are already across the bridge though and the sun blaring on your faces.

"Come back here right now young ladies!" The older one says. You feel Lucy grab your hand and look at her, she gives a small nod which you return and you both step out into the blaring sun and sandy terrain. The alarms stop as the door seals shut again and it's just your harsh pounding heart and breaths. It's a little difficult to breathe but you get used to the warmth and the sound of sand under your boot as you follow Lucy silently. You go past rubble and some skeletons before you see what Lucy was going to, the ocean. The rasps of waves on sand filling your ears, the sun shining down on your face.

"Okey Doky" Lucy says.

Next part ->

#fallout tv series #aob #x reader #lucy maclean #cooper howard x reader #The ghoul #the ghoul x reader

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ghouljams · 10 months

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God i love moon so much. Cowboy soap too. There’s no question to this ask, i just- ah i fucking love those two. Moon is seriously fighting their way to be my favorite darling. Just the concept of them, their dialogue, their behaviors- *chiefs kiss*

Love me some moon n’ soap.

Now give us Birde and Gaz, this is a threat. /j

Hope ur having a good day Ghoul! Always good to read ur blog -Lurk 👁️

Would you settle for 1870z Birdie and Gaz?

You think it’s sort of silly to keep you in the hold overnight, you’re barely drunk and you didn’t hit the gunslinger that hard. You’re sure you’ll hear about it when you see the kids on Monday. Bad gas travels fast in a small town and all that. At least the company is good. You like the deputy well enough, though you’ve only seen him around. Never had much reason to interact with him before tonight.

“I’ve got me a ranger with the prettiest eyes, he’s sure a straight shooter even when he lies, but give him a horse and he’ll race out that door, leavin’ me cryin’ like a penniless whore.”

“Teachers shouldn’t say whore,” Gaz tells you with a smile, you wave a hand at him from behind the iron bars.

“You didn’t like the drinking songs, I’m improvising,” You hum a few more bars, trying to think through your usual catalog. You’re not really an entertainer, but you’ve never had so many complaints about your singing.

“What’s your name again?”

“Kyle,” His smile could light up a cave, you’ve never seen eyes sparkle like that.

“Come in, come in, my love Kyle,” He laughs, you take a moment to enjoy it before continuing, “stay with my this night, you shall have both ale and coal, my fire burning bright.” You hum filling in for the usual guitar. The cell isn’t cold, but there’s a nice chill from the night air. You close your eyes, lean your head back against the wall of the cell. “Well I won’t come in, I can’t come in, I won’t come in at all, there’s a lady ten times fair than you, waitin’ in lord barnets hall-”

“I don’t buy that,” Kyle cuts in, you blink open your eyes to look at him.

“What?”

“I don’t buy it,” He drags his chair closer to the cell.

“Which part?”

“Never seen anyone half as pretty as you, but ten times?” He shakes his head, rests his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, “That’d have to be an act of God.” You let out a breath, jerk your head to the side so you stop looking at his sincerity. Lord this man is making your cheeks hot. You press the back of your hand to your face to try and cool it down.

“D’you flirt with all your prisoners?”

“Only the pretty ones," he sounds far too genuine for you to keep pretending he's joking.

“You think I’m pretty now, you should see me without the drunk and disorderly charge.” You joke.

“I have,” He says, “seen you, I mean. You’re a fuckin’ miracle, like walkin’ sunshine.” See that's just unfair. You aren't supposed to be sweet talked by the man that pulled you out of a bar fight just shy of an hour ago. You'd think that should've scared him off of thinking you're heaven sent.

"You're not supposed to keep thinkin' that after you see me fight," you can't explain the way your voice quiets, or the rush of your pulse in your ears. You think maybe you're embarrassed, weird you don't usually get embarrassed by this sort of thing.

"Probably not, but that isn't gonna stop me," Kyle leans close to the bars of the cell, reaches a hand to brush his knuckles against your cheek, "Don't get shy on me now, Teach, I still wanna know where you got that right hook."

"Birdie," you grab his hand, lace your fingers together, "my friends call me Birdie."

"What do I call you if I don't wanna be friends?" His thumb strokes the back of your hand, his eyes warm as they stare into yours. You hardly notice the bars between you, too focused on his smile, the crease of his cheeks and the little scar under his eye. You wonder how he got that, and if he'd tell you if you asked.

"I don't know," You hum, glancing around the cell, and the sheriff's office, "but I suppose we've got all night to figure it out."

Price stares down at you and Gaz asleep in the holding cell. Passed out on the bench and cuddled close as can be. He pinches the bridge of his nose, tries not to be angry at this. He knew Gaz was pining after you but this is just ridiculous.

"Either of you mind explainin' how this happened?" He asks the room at large. Gaz at least has the decency to sit bolt upright at the sound of his voice, knocking your head off his chest and onto the wood seat. He keeps his hands on your hips, protective, to keep you from falling off the bench and onto your ass.

You grumble something and push yourself up onto your hands to wipe the sleep out of your eyes. Price raises his brows and fixes Gaz with his glaring, since he's the only one he has any real control over. You don't even have the decency to look embarrassed, untangling your legs from Gaz's so you can sit properly and soothing your hands over your skirt. You stand and try to scoot past him with a "Sheriff." He scruffy you and drags you back to sit back on the bench.

"Believe I asked you two a question, and I don't like repeatin' myself," he presses.

"Is Goose boarding a gunslinger?" You ask, blatantly trying to change the subject. Price points a finger at you, then brings it to his lips. You shut your mouth quickly. He points at Gaz.

"Broke up a bar fight, met my wife, must've passed out while we were talkin'." He rattles off, you turn to look at him and mouth:

"Wife?" Gaz gives you a small smile and a shrug. You turn to look back at Price and nod. Price sucks in a breath, and lets it out in a hiss before nodding.

"Alright, out, before word gets out and you don't have a class come Monday." You scramble to your feet, and slip past him to get out of the cell. You give Gaz a small wave which he eagerly returns before Price hears the office door open and shut. "Since when are you two chummy?" Price asks when he's sure you're gone.

"Since she nearly knocked Ghost's lights out and I had to carry her back here kickin'." Gaz runs a hand over his head, scratches his neck, a lovesick look in his eye.

"Mean right hook on that one," Price nods. Gaz hums, staring at the door past him. Price rolls his eyes and smacks his shoulder, "Alright, go after her. Can't have you moping around here all day when we've got work that needs doing."

Gaz grins and wastes no time shouldering past him and out into the bright Texas sun.

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick mw2 #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #gaz x reader #gaz x oc #x oc #oc: birdie #in which birdie gets to sing and Gaz gets the girl hes been watching since he got to town #you know she caught him staring a couple times and brushed it off #oh also birdie punched Ghost for touching Goose #but Price doesnt need to know that #deputy!Gaz #1870s!cowboy #lurk #👁️ anon #i love moon and Soap's dialogue too theyre so fun to write

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