Shadow

wondering what it all means (20)

[shadow1515]

intro post:

call me shadow (they/she). this is probably gonna be a 18+ blog due to the stuff I reblog and possibly post.

yes I like dark and non-con fics. no that does not give you the right to harass me.

currently in the mood for:

dexter, fallout (tv 2024), fnaf

dexter morgan, the ghoul/cooper howard, afton

wanna hang out or chat? lemme know!

fics:

too sweet | the ghoul, cooper howard/f!reader (NON-CON, DD:DNE)

requests CLOSED

rules

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Words Like Honey 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lee Bodecker, Ransom Drysdale (Professor AU)

Summary: it’s hard making friends at college, but you might just be looking in the wrong places.

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

You arrange your carefully iced cupcakes on the platter and smile at them. You love cooking and baking and everything edible. A kitchen is a place where you know what you’re doing. Where you have a voice. You spent all night mixing, beating, and carefully decorating. 

All that joy is muddled in the chaos. Behind the table, you are overwhelmed by the voices behind you. It’s good! It means that your fundraiser is a success and your hard work isn’t for not. 

You turn and put down the fresh platter of cupcakes. You give a start as the man across from you says your name. 

“Thought that was you, puddin’,” he drawls. 

“Lee! You made it.” 

“I won’t lie and say I didn’t let class out early to be here,” he chuckles.

“You didn’t have to do that. Oh, I can’t believe you remembered.” You only mentioned the bake sale in passing. Your efforts to fund the new classroom stand mixer aren’t all glamourous. 

“Course I did,” he smiles, “even brought a friend--” he pauses and looks around, “now where’s that twerp gone?” He growls as he searches the rush in the Student Centre. “Mm, he’ll find his way back. Like a cat.” He shrugs and faces you again. “Now, what am I lookin’ at here, sugar?” 

You smile and point to the first row, “strawberries and cream, this one’s oreo smore,” you go down the columns, “blueberry cheesecake bites, and my favourite, cinnamon roll muffins.” 

“All look delicious,” he licks his lips but when you look up, his eyes are on you. “Can I get two of each, please and thank ya.” 

“Oh, wow, uh, sure.” 

“Gotta share,” he tuts and puts his hand on his lip as cranes to peer around again. “Darn it, where--” 

“Bodecker,” another man struts up, a thin scarf hanging down over his rustic orange jacket. “There you are. “ 

“Told ya I was headin’ over to the sweets. Where’d you get lost?” Lee accuses. 

You focus on putting the cupcakes gently in a box. The other man chuckles, amused. He hums and you glance up as he watches you. His eyes flick down to the table. 

“Saffron, this is my friends--” 

“Colleague,” the other man corrects with a tint of humour in his tone. “Ransom. Professor Drysdale, actually.” 

“Ransom’s fine,” Lee insists, “she made ‘em herself.” 

“Not all of them. Joseph did the brownies and squares,” you point behind you, “and Angela did the cake.” 

“Do you have a permit?” Ransom asks. 

You blink in confusion. 

“Ignore him,” Lee elbows his side. “He’s teasin’ ya.” 

He takes out his wallet and counts out the bills, “how much then.” 

“Well it’s three dollars each and you have eight,” you slide the box over, “that’s twenty-four--” 

“It’s a fundraiser, ain’t it?” He offers a fifty, “keep the change, will ya?” 

“Oh, sir,” you stare at the bill. “That’s, erm, very generous.” 

“Not at all. Goin’ to a good cause,” he winks. 

You accept the bill and push it into your apron pocket to add to the lock box. 

“You got cheesecake?” Ransom interjects. The other man looks irritated by his interruption. 

“Sure, Angela made cherry, classic New York, salted caramel, oh and... erm, pumpkin swirl.” 

“I’ll have cherry,” he says. 

“That’s cherry, please,” Lee growls. 

Ransom laughs again, “please.” He mimics the other's southern lilt. He gets a grumble in return. 

“My friend ain’t got manners. Born with a silver spoon down his throat,” Lee shakes his head. 

“I’ll get that cake,” you assure him and step away. You get another box and pack up a slice. You bring it back with a bamboo fork. “Here you go.” 

It’s sweltering as both men focus on you. You hand over the box and Ransom holds out his payment. You take the hundred and gasp as you unfold it. “Keep the change,” he says. 

“Sir, the cake’s only four dollars.” 

“That’s fine,” he insists. “Good cause or whatever.” 

Lee sends him a look, “well that’s mighty kind.” 

“I’m a nice guy, Bodecker.” Ransom scoffs. 

You just keep smiling as the edges of your vision crowd with people and the chatter itches your ears. You brace the table and take a deep breath. You blink and the fog clears. Focus. They’re both staring at you. 

“Well, thank ya, puddin’, we’ll certainly enjoy these, won’t we?” He nudges the other man. 

“Sure,” Ransom smirks. “Come on, I got a thing.” 

“It’s your thing,” Lee grumbles and waves with three fingers, “we’ll see ya ‘round, then.” 

“Bye, Lee,” you chime, “and, er, Professor Drysdale.” 

The other man’s lips curve deeper before he turns away. He strides ahead of Lee who peeks back at you one last time. You keep your smile and turn to the next person in line. 

“Can I have some of the lemon meringue square?” The girl points, “is that what it is?” 

“Oh, sure, yeah, it’s lemon you answer. 

“Erm, do you... do you have suggestions? The lemon’s for me but I... I wanted to get some for a friend. Um, maybe a brownie too?” 

“Sure,” you nod as she shows her teeth sheepishly. You see yourself in her. And her teddy bear bag is especially cute. You box up her goods and put them down. 

“I hope you don’t mind change,” she counts out from a change purse. 

“Not at all,” you assure her. “I love that bag.” 

“Really? I made it. The teddy bear used to be part of a blanket,” she shows off the fuzzy fur of the bear. 

“Wow, that’s awesome,” you say as you take her change. 

“You made all this? I always liked baking,” she says. 

“Some of it. Only took all night,” you reply. 

“So cool. My dorm’s too small to bake...” 

“Aww, that’s... too bad,” you say. You hesitate as she takes the box. Before she can turn away, you stop her. “Hey, um, my name’s Saffron. If you ever wanna make something, I get access to the kitchen in the culinary building. Just a thought.” 

“Really? That’s so cool,” she brightens up and the shaking in her hands stop. “Okay. Oh...” she frowns. “I’m Mauve. Nice to meet you.” 

She holds out her free hand. You shake it, amused by the gesture. She’s sweet and you have another friend to add to the count. On your own age! 

[shadow1515]

OMG Saffron is juts the cutest I can't stand it. And was she getting overwhelmed by the crown and noises? bc if so i totally get it, happens to me all the time. Oh this poor girl is going to get ruined by those slimey men 😔 i'm glad she and Mauve can be friends now tho! love ur writing, as always <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Words Like Honey 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lee Bodecker, Ransom Drysdale (Professor AU)

Summary: it's hard making friends at college, but you might just be looking in the wrong places.

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

You reach for the last coconut bar in the basket. As you take it, another hand stops short and you turn to the man you didn’t notice right beside you. You have a bad habit of zoning out in crowded places. Your sister calls it tunnel vision. Often times, you would just sit and stare at family gatherings with all the people and sound. 

“Oh, oops, sorry,” you hold out the bar, “did you want this one?” 

The man glances at you, a tick in his cheek, “aw, sweetheart, don’t you worry about that. I’m just fine with a brownie.” He reaches to take a brownie from the basket instead, “nice of ya to offer, though.” 

“It’s not problem,” you say, “I don’t mind trading.” 

“No, no, now what kinda gentleman would take from a pretty gal like yourself? You go on and enjoy that,” he smiles. “Don’t meet many polite ladies ‘round here, now.” 

“Oh,” your cheeks heat up, “thank you, sir.” 

“And I’m sure you don’t need old men sayin’ so,” he rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll be on my way then.” 

You smile as he moves to get around you. The space is tighter than you expect and his belly presses slightly against you as he sidles past. He gives and apologetic nod, “sorry, sweetheart.” 

“No worries,” you assure him and slip past, turning to peruse the packets of flavoured hot chocolate by the hot water karafe. 

You choose the smores flavour and tear it open. You fix up your cocoa and pop a lid on top. You take your sweets to the cashier and swipe your student card. It isn’t the best use of your meal plan but that sweet tooth kills you.  

You have about an hour before your next class. You come out into the cafeteria area and glance around. There’s not much room in the midday rush. The first week is always the busiest. 

You could sneak your hot chocolate into the library but you’re not sure it would be any less crowded. You see the same man at a table. He shimmies on his seat as he puts his briefcase next to him. He’s older and judging by his checkered button-up, a professor.  

You measure your options. Second year and you still haven’t found any friend. Your grandma says to put yourself out there but Cameron in your baking class said your souffle looked flat and laughed with Dustin and Penny.  

All you want is a place to sit. 

You approach the man, your stomach fluttering. You really hope you’re not bothering him. You keep your hot chocolate close to your chest. 

“Ahem, erm, excuse me, sir,” you say. He looks up as he presses his thumb down to unlock his phone. He lays it on the table and retracts his hand. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be a pest, again, but...” you look around, “do you mind if I steal this seat? I promise I’ll be quiet.” 

“Go on,” he gestures to the chair. “I’ll only ask ya one thing.” 

“Oh, sure,” you look at him like a frightened fawn. 

“Your name? Must be as pretty as you.” 

You could melt. The way his accent turns his voice to syrup and his words make it even sweeter. You grin. 

“Saffron, sir,” you set down your cup and square. You extend your hand in an overly formal gesture. “And you?” 

“You can call me Lee, sweet cake.” He shakes your hand. His grip is firm and tight. He reminds you of your neighbour who used to mow the lawn for your grandma. Always helpful. 

“Lee,” you sit and blow over the slot of the lid. “You must teach. Oh, sorry, I said I’d be quiet.” 

“Nah, it’s alright,” he waves away your apology. “Is it that obvious then? You count the grays?” 

He touches his temples and you giggle nervously. “No, no, I didn’t mean that. I only... well, you could be a student. Gerry in my pastry class, he’s got grandkids.” 

“I ain’t got none of those now,” he snorts and points at you tersely. 

“I--” You pull back and touch your cheeks, “oh boy, I didn’t mean it like that. I swear.” 

He laughs, “I know. I’m yankin’ ya chain. So, I s’pose you’re a student then? Culinary? You mentioned pastries?” 

“Oh, yes.” You nod and cross your arms over the table. “I always cooked with my grandma and I figured, if you’re good at something, you should keep doing it.” 

“That does sound like a good plan,” he says.  

“Mmhmm,” you hum and nod. 

Awkwardness sets in and you try to figure out what to do with yourself. You scratch your shoulder then reach for your hot chocolate. You take another drink and set it down. You take the coconut square and put it in your bag. 

You take out your laptop, hoping to busy yourself as the tension builds. You should have just gone and sat in the quad. Too late now. 

You open up the lid and type in your password. Of course, it needs to update. As you wait for the rolling circle to finish, your vision blurs. All this activity makes you want to disappear. 

Your eyes come back into focus as your computer chirps. You blink and notice movement on the other side. You glance at Lee as he pulls his phone close and squints at the screen. There’s something odd about the intensity of his gaze. You swear, he’d just had it right across from you. 

Well, you weren’t paying attention. There you go again, blocking out the world. If you stopped that, you might actually make friends! You frown and cup your chin in your hand. 

“’samatter?” He asks, once more jarring you from your self-imposed isolation. 

You shake your head and sit up, “nothing. Just... thinking.” 

“Hm, well whatever ya thinking of, it can’t be so bad. Not enough to make a sweet thing like you so sad,” he says. 

“Really, it’s not. You know, college can be stressful,” you force a smile. 

“It can be. Piece of advice,” he leans forward, “get out while you can. Don’t stick around like me.” 

“Oh, well, thanks,” you reply. “I think I’ll end up in a kitchen somewhere. Hopefully.” 

“Kitchen’s a nice place to be,” he winks. “Make all sorts of tasty dishes. Make people happy. Not many people happy about a term paper, ya know?” 

[shadow1515]

ohhhh boy saffron is in for one hell of a ride with these two

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Like a Stone 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Loki, Tony Stark (Professor AU)

Summary: your work as a TA is complicated by more than your advisor. (tall reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

The day begins unfortunately. You are a stickler for details but by some carelessness you end up at the wrong office. Rather than Laufeyson, you’d stumble upon Odinson and his rather stuffy office mate. If you think someone is uptight, they must be. 

Still, the mistake doesn’t set you behind. You approach the correct office door and double check the placque set in the wood. Dr. Laufeyson. Hm. One day you will wear the same title. 

You knock lightly and stand staunchly in wait. Even without your rigid posture, you are tall. You never pay that attribute much attention until someone points it out, often with a childish joke about the altitude or the like. 

You wait and when no answer comes, you knock again. 

“Yes, do come in,” the impatient bark from within tightens your muscles. Well, this is a great beginning. 

You turn the handle and let yourself in. It’s not very polite not to answer your own door. Well, he hardly has to worry about your evaluation, no, the situation is quite the opposite. And you shouldn’t be ungrateful, you fought for this opportunity. 

“Hello,” you enter and linger at the threshold, “open or shut?” 

“However, you like,” the black-haired man doesn’t look up from the book on his desk. 

“Right, Dr. Laufeyson, I believe we were scheduled to meet. I’m Primrose. Your TA for this session.” 

“Yes, yes, I’ve it all ready. The green folder there,” he gives a slight tip of his head, a gesture that puts your eyes to the corner of the desk. 

“Thank you, sir,” you approach and put your hand on the folder. “I thought maybe you’d like to go over the duties.” 

He stays as he is, shoulders curled forward, his lithe and long figure hunched over the desk, his beakish nose pointed down. Only his green eyes move. His black tresses are bushed back so the spirals cluster behind his neck. 

“They are listed inside. Along with the syllabus and what I expect of you in terms of classroom duties and lesson planning,” he remains fixated on the pages. You’re slightly irked by his indifference. 

“I understand,” you lift the folder and hold it to your chest. The buttons of your blazer press into you. “Well then... I suppose it was nice to meet you.” 

“You will send your first lesson plan tonight and I will return my feedback,” he flips the page, “no time to waste then.” 

First lesson? You withhold a blanch and nod. He isn’t very accommodating. You wouldn’t expect less given the lot of professors you’ve encountered, but you though being a TA, he might have more interest in you than some dusty tome. 

“Thank you,” you turn on your heel and bite down on your irritation. 

You pull the door shut and it isn’t until you’re alone in the hallway, that the disappointment hits you. You’re not an optimistic person. You define yourself as a pragmatist and yet, that was not what you expected.  

You've been dismissed, disposed even. If he were not effectively your boss, you might go back in and let him know just that. Yet if you did, what good would it do? Men rarely hear above their egos. 

You lower the folder to your side and march down the hallway. Your heeled boots echo around you and down the stairs of the foyer. You come out and shield your eyes against the glare reflecting off the paned walls of the engineering building. Typical, yet the arts and humanity buildings look as if they could fall to dust. 

You twist around but the light blinds you from seeing the other body headed in the opposite direction. You stagger back as the folder falls from your grasp and the papers flutter all around. You wince and quickly bend your knees to gather the mess before it can all blow away. 

A chuckle crackles in the air and you glance up at the older gentleman you ran into. 

“Apologies,” you say as you swipe up the papers, moving awkwardly with bent legs. 

“Not at all, sweetheart,” he steps on a page to keep it from riding the wind. “Here, let me help ya out.” 

He bends to shuffle a few papers into his hands and holds them out. You take them and shove them into the folder with the rest. You huff and stand. He does too. You’re taller than him and would be even without your heels. He looks up at you with a glimmer in his dark eyes. 

“Wow, glamazon, love the look, sweetheart,” he winks. 

You narrow your eyes as you take in his groomed goatee, his silvering hair along his temples, and that arrogant crooked smirk.  

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you snip. “Thank you for your help.” 

You hug the folder and sidestep him. Or try to. He moves with you and blocks your way. 

“Well, you could try being sweet,” he goads. 

You back up and look him in the face. You don’t know how to respond to that. Most men don’t bother and when they do, they get one sneer from you and run. 

“Step one, smile,” he purrs. 

Your lips curve but not upwards. You teethe the inside of your lip and lock down your anger. First Laufeyson, not this character. 

“Pardon me,” you say at last but as you try to pass, he hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you in front of him. 

“You don’t gotta be shy. You a freshman? I can show you around,” he offers. “Wanna see my office?” 

You calmly put a hand on his shoulder and shove until his arm slackens. You back up and set your chin. Your nose flares. 

“I am not a freshman and I’m not interested in old men. Good day.” 

Instead of trying to push past, you turn and stomp in the other direction. Your legs are long enough, you can outpace him. Easily. Not to mention his age. 

Just another unexpected turn. You’ll just have to go the long way. Not ideal since you have a lesson due in only a few hours. 

[shadow1515]

oooh really looking forward to this au!! primrose is so me and i love seeing tall readers too (although of course i love all of them, your writing is amazing with any reader!!!). super excited to see where these stories go and i love when you have the different readers connected like this, it's super cool to see!

[shadow1515]

i have fallen down yet another rabbit hole... but this rabbit hole has no sustenance so methinks i must make my own

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crash and Burn 5

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Tony Stark

Summary: a powerful man comes crashing into your life. Literally.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You sit on the back porch, reading a book as you avoid the dingy tabacco laden walls inside. After claiming a couple slices of pizza, you quickly evacuated, your mom latched onto your guest like gum beneath a diner table. You're happy enough to be alone.

You just want it all done with. You want to be done with him.

Your mom just needs to do one thing. Get the trailer and be done with the man overdosing on his own ego. She's never been on to let things go, especially nothing like this.

The screen door opens and closes. You stay as you are.

“Your chariot awaits, princess,” Tony declares as he approaches. You look up as he stands behind you.

“What do you mean?” You close the book and stand, not liking how his pant leg touches your arm. You face him as his mouth slants, the silver in his goatee catching the dimming sunlight.

“Me. Gonna take you for another ride.” He rests his hand on the wooden railing as you stand on the step below.

“No,” you say bluntly. “I have work tomorrow so I need to go get ready for bed.”

“What’s the matter? If you don’t like pepperoni, you could’ve said something,” he tilts his head. "I thought you had extensive experience with meat... workong in a deli and all."

“Really? You know this isn’t about the pizza,” you sneer.

“I know what it’s about as well as you.” He steps closer and looks down at you. “It’s this.”

He swirls his finger between you.

You narrow your eyes and grimace. “This... what?”

“Sexual tension. It’s like a noose, isn’t it? I’m close to gagging.”

You glare back at him, “you really believe every woman on earth wants you?”

“I know it so let's stop fucking around just get to the fucking.” He winks.

You laugh. A snort then a scoff then a guffaw. “Wow, what a line. Look you can buy us pizza and replace what you owe us but I'm nor impressed. You city people think we're all just a bunch of trailer trash and maybe we are, doesn't mean we wanna be like you.”

“Oh, but you definitely want me,” he intones.

You sigh, “I want to go to my room and never see you again.”

“I like that. The hard-to-get thing always gets me going.” He gets closer and you lean away.

“The hard to stand thing doesn't do it for me,” you retort. “Thanks for doing the bare minimum but I'm over it. Either we get what you destroyed or you go back and laugh at your little mistake with your rich buddies.”

“You're sounding bitter, sweetheart. Why don't you let me give you some sugar?” He reaches for you and you dodge his hand.

“Please, quit that. I told you, I am not into it.”

“You aren't? Well your mom sure is. Yeah, we made quite the deal. She's going to get her trailer and an empty nest.” He puts his hands out in nonchalance, “what can I say? I'm a great negotiator.”

“What–”

“Well, I mean you're not going anywhere here. Working at a deli and for what? I told her, you don't gotta be stuck here. Eating off her table, living under her roof. You're an adult.” He crosses his arms and smirks.

Yep, that sounds like your mom. She's reminded you a billion times how you've burdened her with your existence, just as your grandmother does to her. And he plucked on that string until he hit a harmony.

“What did you do?” You ask.

“You make it sound like I did something wrong. Sweetheart, I'm doing you a favour. I'm getting you out of this pit. A girl like you, you can't hope for better because I'll tell you something, there's nothing out there better than Tony Stark.”

He preens in victory. You squint and clap the book against your leg.

“Come on, everyone should see New York at least once,” he tries to tap your nose and you evade him, but not entirely. Instead, he hits your chest and you feel a sudden constriction across it.

Your ripped up by your chest as metal expands and twists around your torso. You shriek as you fly upwards, encased in a cocoon the blocks out the wind. The propulsion of the suit has you disoriented and rattling.

You hear a whir and look over to see the marquee red and gold of the iconic Iron Man. Tony grabs you, your gauntlet caught against his like a magnet, and he zooms off onto sky, dragging you with him. You cry out as you can do nothing but flail.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he voice comes through the speakers built into the helmet, “you don't wanna pass out in this thing. Trust me.”

“What the hellllllll!” You holler.

“Just wait till you see that New York skyline,” he chortles.

Your disbelief paralyses you. How can he do this? Well, you can't stop him. He's been enabled his whole life and you've just become another pawn to his games.

[shadow1515]

omgggg wtf tony this is next level crazy

he really is so egotistical to think everyone wants him even when they say straight to his face "leave me tf alone", this poor reader is gonna have an interesting time with him.

I wonder if he'll be able to deal with her "idgaf" attitude for long or if he'll eventually be done with it tho

great writing as always!!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Diabolical 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, extreme profanity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Billy Butcher

Summary: your neighbours has some strange friends.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The reverberation of copper ripples through the air. You nearly slip under the water as you jolt. You grip the edges of the tub and sit up. Another crash thunders and you scowl. Your peace is shattered. 

Candles, music, a book, and a steaming bath. It's a perfect night. Or it was. 

You wait and listen. Silence. You let yourself back and reach for the novel on your bath table. Another egregious cacophony has you splashing yourself with water.   

You growl and slide the table out of the way as you stand. You grab your towel as water slakes off of you. You pay no mind to the mess that puddles below each step as the thrashing continues.  

You storm across the apartment, sliding dangerously on the hardwood, and you put your eye to the peephole. The man grins, as if he can see you and shakes the box in his hands. The metal echoes again. 

How dare he? It's almost nine in the evening! You tear open the door, your hand clasped around the knot of your towel, and you snarl. 

"Must you make so much noise?" 

He cackles at you as he hugs the box of cymbals and bells. "Eh, I'm just doin' good ole Hughie a favour. He's been talkin' 'bout getting into drumming so's I say Hughie, I know a guy. Can get you everything you need." 

"I don't...care." You bluster. "Should you even have those in a box? There are bags meant for that." 

"Who cares? You just bang on the things anyhow. Well, then," he turns to the door behind him. "Seems like my pal isn't in." He drops the box and the raucous clamour makes you groan. "I'll just leave 'em here for him. Buddy that I am." He spins back to face you. "And you can get back to listening to Bach and drinking your oolong." He makes a motion which could be tipping a cup or something more heinous. "Your majesty." 

You furrow your brow and roll your eyes. "All I asked for was a bit of decency. It wasn't any sort of insult but I see to you, any thought of being kind is offensive." 

"Talkin' to me about being decent and you're stood out here in a dish towel," he scoffs. 

"I--" you look down, remembering yourself. You move to hide behind the door. "Well, you disturbed me--" 

"You are disturbed, ain't ya, sweetheart?" 

You sneer. "Fine, whatever. I'll make sure Hugh gets his drums." 

"Hugh?" He chuckles. "You are something." 

"Good night, sir." You back up and close the door. Your certain to lock it too.  

His laughter keens through and friction brushes up the other side. "It's Butcher, not sir, love." He taps and you flinch, "have yourself a good night, won't ya? Don't think of me too much." 

You huff and have a mind to open the door again. Not, that’s only what he wants. You retreat and trod back to the bathroom. The water’s tepid and the scent of the candles grows overwhelming. You shut off the music and pull the stopper. So much for relaxing. 

The tension needles across your shoulder. You blow out the wicks and snatch your book from the table. You go to your room and flip on the bedside lamp. You put the novel on your pillow and pull on a night gown.  

You recline and crack open the book. A long honk blares from outside. That’s not unusual but what is, is the successive short toots that follow, almost in a rhythm. You try to ignore it. The honks vary, long, short, soft, loud. You realise the offender is doing a rather poor job of honking out Beethoven.  

You know exactly the culprit and you won’t let him know you’re bothered. Let him waste his own energy not yours. Besides, if he had any sort of nuance, he’d realise you don’t sit around and listen to classical. You appreciate vintage music but you’re not pretentious. You simply have your tastes. Nothing wrong with that. 

You lay back and your eyes gloss over the words without reading. You may not want to give him the satisfaction but it doesn't mean it’s not working. Several rereads of the same paragraph have you fed up. You sink down and drop the book. 

You stare at the ceiling and sigh. You can’t even put on a movie or music. You won’t be able to hear it. 

As if on cue, silence. You exhale. Thank god. 

An engine rumbles and you hear it steer down the alley outside. You hear the tires crawling just below your window. Another wall of sound rises and has you nearly jumping out of your skin. Heavy metal pumps through the wall and has you gritting your teeth. 

It’s him. That imbecile. 

[shadow1515]

this one too omg i love butcher so muchhhhhh and this is such a perfect reader for him to ruin lol idk how you do it and manage to write just the most perfect readers for these characters, but keep doing what you <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crash and Burn 3

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Tony Stark

Summary: a powerful man comes crashing into your life. Literally.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Another thankless day of serving cold cuts and cheese to the general public as you ready to tear your hair out. You don’t see how anyone could make such a fuss about a trip to the deli but the locals have a way of exacerbating any simplicity. You’re just happy to be free. 

The bus is late. You stand at the curb and bounce on your heels. You just want to lay down. The lack of sleep is starting to split your skull. 

You yawn and watch a truck blow by. It’s a sleepy old town, nestled between farmland and stretches of dirty roads. The sort of backwoods you don’t drive through after dark. It’s so dull you could fall asleep on your feet. 

A sudden gust of air rips through the sky and the unusual whirlwind circles you. You look up through slitted eyes as dirty speckles across your face. You furrow your brow as lights and flames glow as a red figure lands in front of you.

The electric blue haze goes out and your faced with the suit of crimson and gold. You grip your purse strap and gulp. You haven’t checked your phone yet. You couldn’t have predicted this. 

“Shit.” You mutter. 

His helmet snaps back and he smirks. The silver streaks in his dark hair puff out and he smooths them down. He puts his hand on his hip and scoffs, “name’s Tony Stark, thanks.” 

You cringe and cross your arms. “We met.” 

“Yeah, I remember you. Nearly forgot before everything blew up. You know, this thing...” he pauses to take his phone out. “Hasn’t shut up all fucking day. I got lawyers down my throat--” 

“Your phone is blowing up? My house blew up.” You sneer. 

“Okay, relax. It was a trailer. I said I’d replace it--” 

“Then do it.” 

“Ooh, spicy. I didn’t guess you to be the type but after seeing your little online storytelling, I shoulda guessed.” 

“It’s the truth. That’s it.” You turn to watch for the bus. You’re aware of the few people slowing to stare at the man in his techno-suit. 

“I mean, a little gratitude here, honey. I’m more than happy to slap a new box in the lot but you don’t gotta be this way about it.” He derides. You look at him from the corner of your eyes and scowl. “At least a smile. Bet you’re gorgeous when you smile.” 

He winks and you flinch. Really? 

“Fine. Once we have a new trailer, I’ll delete the post. Sounds pretty fair to me.” 

“Now. Take it down now and then we can go shopping for a new train car,” he chirps. 

You frown and face him. “It’s just a post.” 

“I got a reputation, sweetheart. I’m important that way. I know you might not be able to fathom that but one busted up hellhole is nothing compared to what I do for this planet. Didn’t you see me on the TV, handing out lollipops to hurricane survivors? What are you doing besides whine on the internet?” He stares you down, his expression turning sinister as his grin fades. 

“If it’s not a big deal, then it shouldn’t take much, should it?” You challenge. 

“Wow, you sure are mouthy, aren’t you?” 

“I’m tired.” You peer down the street again. “I worked a full shift and my feet hurt. You wouldn’t know about that, would you? With your penthouse and your dad’s money.” 

“I earned my company.” He snarls. “You watch where you’re stepping, sweetheart. I’m being nice. I flew all the way back to this ditch, so let’s not play dirty.” 

Your heart races. You don’t know why you’ve said so much. Maybe because you’ve worn a customer service smile all day and you’re all out of fucks to give?

And what do you have left to lose? A family that treats you like a gnat flying around their heads and a musty old futon. Your life wasn’t great before but damn if he didn’t make it a whole lot worse. 

“You do whatever. You’re Tony Stark. Iron Man.” Your tone is deflated and monotone. “I can’t do anything about it, can I? Just whine on the internet?” 

You step further down the sidewalk and stare at the approaching headlights. The bus is finally there. Even if he really means to replace the dusty old shithole, you don’t need his self-aggrandized kindness. Not if this is how it’s delivered. 

You pull out your bus fare as you sway beneath the sign. A sharp noise tweaks your ear and you’re seized in a metal vice. Your arms are trapped against your sides as Tony zooms up into the sky, the air whipping around your face as you holler in horror. 

“What-- are—you—doing?” You shriek as you wriggle, kicking into the empty void around you. 

“Sweetheart,” his voice rises from behind his helmet. “You’re gonna wanna be still. If I drop you, you’re gonna hit the ground like a bug on a windshield.” 

“What the fuck?” You exclaim and squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Just givin’ you a lift home. Like a nice guy would do.” He chuckles. “Now don’t breathe too heavy up here. At this altitude... well...” 

You put your head down, shielding it against the shoulder plate of his suit, and you bend your arms to cling to him. You have no other choice but to hold on for dear life.

You get his point. Tony Stark is more than money. He can do whatever the hell he wants. 

[shadow1515]

in love with this!!! i love the way you write tony so much, and i am super excited to see where this goes.

maybe it's because i finally started watching the boys s4, but omg tony in this part is giving such homelander vibes lmao

[shadow1515]

just so everyone knows if they followed me after i posted my ghoul fic, i am a very slow writer and extremely non-active online, so who knows when i'll post next lol

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: told myself to slow down, didn't.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It’s your first time wearing that skirt. You’ve had it in your closet for two years. At least. You’re not really a skirt person but it’s cute. The floral on black with the zipper up the front. It drapes nicely enough though you’re not used to wearing anything so short. You have a trusty pair of shorts on just in case. 

You don’t go out either. Definitely not to places like this. You keep an arm across your middle, gripping your other as the hordes of people make you dizzy. The shining gold accoutrement of the decor along with the waft of low music over the noise of tables and voices add to your vertigo. 

The casino is busy and bright and loud. You stay close to your sister as she leads you across the carpet; ivory with golden curliques patterned across them. You’re no gambler either but you’re not there to play cards.  

“I think it’s upstairs,” Roxie says as she looks at the tickets in her hand. “Gala Room B.” 

“Oh, right,” you murmur and smile at her, “what’s the band again?” 

“Don’t worry about it the tickets were free,” she chirps as you look up at her. You feel even more a child beside her; your height often adds to your inferiority complex. Historically, you think, those characteristics have been often intertwined. 

“No, but--” 

“You need to get out of mom’s place more,” she chides, “I could’ve brought Katie instead, but I chose you, sis.” 

“I know, er, thanks,” you run your hand up to your shoulder and rub it nervously. 

“Show doesn’t start for another hour. Let’s get a drink,” she insists and turns, strutting towards the long bar at the other side of the grand space. You trail after her, shrinking down even further. She turns back to you as she leans on a tall stool, “what d’ya want?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t really...” 

“I know, it’s one drink, how about a vodka-cran?” She suggests, “you love cranberry.” 

“Um, sure, if you think that’s good.” 

She sighs and rolls her eyes. She’s the wild one, not you. You know you bore her and since your parents’ divorce, years ago, you haven’t really hung out together. She went with your dad and you with your mom, since then, it’s all been a bit fuzzy. 

She orders as you stand back, not wanting to get in the way of the people all around you. You lean back, rocking nervously as you glance around. You feel underdressed as you see women in cocktail dresses and men in suits. Even your sister is a stark contrast to your overly casual attire; your favourite purple cardigan and the skirt you’ve never worn. 

Your eyes scan the room, admiring the golden sconces of bulbs that resemble candelabras and the gilt trim all along the wall. The more you look around, the less you belong. You don’t even know why you said yes. Well, your mom pushed you into it. Just like your sister, she keeps saying you need to get out more. 

You rub your lips together and feel around your small tassled purse. It’s used, like most of your things. The thrift store is as much as your mom can afford and you still haven’t found a solid job. You worked at the grocery for a summer before they laid off half of you then did a one-day stint at a polling centre for the last municipal election. Even if you wanted to go out, you don’t have the money for it. 

You pull out your chapstick and smear it around your chafed lips as you sway back the other direction. You stop short as you nearly slam into another body and you stumble out of the way of the man in his black-and-white suit. Embarrassment creeps hotly up your cheeks and you cap your lip balm and stand out of his path. 

He’s taller than you. Well, everyone is. But to you, he seems huge. His suit is finely tailored to his figure though his hair seems to clash with the refined style. It’s almost to his collar but neatly parted, a shank falling forward to frame his sharp cheekbone. His square jaw is trimmed thickly with a dark beard, peppered with strands of silver and patch along the dimple of his chin. You’ve never seen anything as blue as his eyes, they are almost inhumanly vivid. 

“Sorry, doll,” he touches your arm as he passes and smirks, swiftly turning his sights ahead of him. 

You gulp as your shoulder hits someone else. You spin to face your sister as she offers you a glass. You take the red concoction with the short black straw sticking out over the ice cubes. You thank her as the chill seeps into your hand. 

“Oof, look at him,” she leans to watch after the man in his dark suit, “damn.” You frown and look in the other direction. She scoffs and nudges you, “come on. That guy is totally stunning. Even you can see that.” 

“I don’t wanna gawk at him,” you mutter, “he’s a stranger.” 

“Oh, whatever, not like he’d notice,” she snips. 

You scrunch up your lip and tuck your chapstick away as you peer toward the man. He goes up to a table, sliding in next to a taller woman with honey-blond hair and a shimmery dress. He rests his hand along her lower back as he chatters to her and the rest of the players around the leather trim. 

“Sheesh, he’s fine,” she puts a twang on the last word, “mmph. If I wasn’t with Tom...” 

“Right,” you look down at the drink and sip from the straw. You make a face and cough. 

“It’s not that strong,” she slaps your back, “don’t be dramatic.” 

“I know,” you clear your throat, “I just wasn’t expecting the taste.” 

“Let’s go upstairs,” she points above. 

“Uh, okay,” you agree to her sudden diversion. You suppose you really are boring. 

You follow her up the curved stairs and along the railing that overlooks the lower casino room. Arched windows let in the night and the glow of the facade. You lean on the polished wood and peer down at the first floor; it looks even more resplendent from there. You sister puts her elbow on the railing as she looks around. 

“We could stick around after, lose some money,” she says. 

“I don’t... mom only gave me a twenty and I owe you for the drink.” 

“Pfft, whatever, I’ll spot ya. Tom gave me some extra with the tickets,” she trills, “it’ll be fun. Play some black jack. It’ll be an experience. You could say you’ve actually done something.” 

You smile, closed-lipped and tight. She isn’t wrong. It’s your first concert, for some cover band, and your first time at a casino. It’s not an exaggeration to say this is the height of your life experience. 

Your eyes wander down and meet another pair. You wince. It’s that same man. He walks towards you, a certain swagger in his stride. As he peers up at you, his cheeks dimple and he winks. You wrinkle your brow and look behind you. When you turn back, he’s gone. Right, you’re imagining things. 

Roxie slurps as her straw turns hollow. She’s already drained her cocktail, meanwhile you’ve barely taken a sip. She stirs the ice and hums. 

“Wait here, I’m gonna get a refill,” she raises her glass. 

“Oh, I can come with you--” 

“Nah, just stand here,” she insists. “You’ll just slow me down.” 

“Sure, uh, okay.” 

You curl your shoulders inward as she walks away. Great. All alone. You avoid looking anywhere but your glass. You face the railing again and balance your drink on it. It’s not bad, tarter than you’re used to and a little burny.  

You play with the black bracelet around your wrist, the band they stuck around it when they scanned your ID at the door. You suppose it’s a good idea but they wouldn’t be letting kids in here, would they? Oh yeah, the hotel is attached. 

As a kid, you never went on vacations like that. No hotels, no casinos, no shows. It seems like Roxie is catching up on all of that and you’re just there. The world is so much scarier when it’s all a mystery to you. 

“Excuse me,” a deep voice startles you. You ignore it, thinking it’s merely a passerby, “miss?” 

There’s a tap on your shoulder and you barely save your cocktail from spilling over the edge. You clutch the glass with both hands and face the stranger. It’s that same man, with the suit and the long hair and the oceanic eyes. Something about him is familiar beyond your few earlier glances. 

“I think you dropped this?” He holds up a chip with a golden 100 on it. You blink and shake your head. 

“No,” you scrape out of your throat, “I don’t-- I didn’t--” 

“I swear I saw it fall out of your bag,” he looks down at your purse. 

“Really, I’m not... I don’t gamble.” 

“Ah, well, if it’s just hanging around, might as well use it, huh?” He keeps his hand out, “maybe it’s your lucky day.” 

“I couldn’t. If someone lost it...” your voice doesn’t want to go and he leans in to hear you, adding to the heat spreading through your chest. Is it the alcohol or him? 

“You’re sweet, keep it,” he shoves the chip toward you. 

“Please, I... I... can’t...” you wipe a hand on your skirt and clutch the fabric. 

“Doll, I can’t hear you,” he says as he grabs your hand and dislodges it from your skirt, “here.” 

He presses the chip into your palm. You stare at his tie then look down at the white chip with gold detailing. His hand brushes yours before he rescinds his touch. 

“Erm...” you murmur dumbly and shake your head. 

“My treat,” he growls. 

“But...” 

“Like the skirt, by the way,” he surprises you as he pinches a fold, “cute on you.” 

Just as quickly as he appeared, he strides away, leaving you blankly staring after him. His broad shoulders move beyond a thick marble pillar as you hold up your drink and the chip. You just look between them. 

“Hey,” Roxie approaches again, “oh, what’s that?” 

“A chip...” you state plainly. 

“Duh, I know. Where’d you get it?” 

You look at the floor. Would she even believe you? “The floor.” 

“Ooo,” she plucks it from your fingers, “awesome, “now we’re definitely having some fun tonight.” 

“Rox,” you swallow and look up at her, “we should hand it in. It’s a lot of money. If someone lost it--” 

“If they lost it, they can afford it,” she bobs her neck as she speaks, “live a little,” she sneers and taps your glass, “and finish your drink. Maybe that’ll loosen you up.” 

You nod and recede into yourself, cradling the glass again with both hands. You put your lips to the straw and drink until you can’t anymore. She gulps straight from the brim of her glass and sighs, wiggling as she peers around. 

“I almost don’t even want to see these old men play music,” she snickers as she takes in the expanse of tables flashing lights. 

“Oh?” 

“Relax, we’re going to see the show. You’re a horrible liar and mom will see right through you,” she sneers, “besides, I told her I wouldn’t get you in too much trouble.” 

[shadow1515]

ohhhhh???? i am very interested in this one!!! Bucky is being very sneaky there, and i don't think this reader will catch on very quickly :(( he's definitely not going to be good for her🫣

[shadow1515]

any more fics in the works?!

hi! yeah i have a few pieces in the works atm, some are more finished than others, and they tend to move on my list of priorities as time moves on lol

rn, i am mainly working on a sequel to Too Sweet, a request for a different Ghoul fic, and fic with a fairly different character than the Ghoul... and that's all i'll say about that tehe

i will say tho, i am taking some summer classes for college now so my time will be a little hectic, but i will try to work on these fics when i can!!!

thank you for the ask, as well, it made me very happy 😊

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Mr. Hansen,” you eke out as you pad after Lloyd. 

“Did I tell you to speak?” He grumbles. 

You walk with an arm across your chest and your other hand hiding your vee, “no, but I forgot my phone in the car--” 

“You don’t need it,” he tosses over his shoulder as he leads you to the staircase, the steps wide and polished. 

“Hm, guess I wouldn’t have pockets for it anyhow,” you comment as you follow him up, uncertain what else to do. 

He growls and says nothing else. You see the tension in his shoulders and clutching in his hand, balling and unballing at his side. He tilts his head slightly as if talking to himself, gesturing slightly in his unspoken monologue. He seems stressed. You might be too if you had a hostage. Hostage may be a generous term; you’re not worth much of a bargain. 

He pushes through a door so hard it nearly thwacks the wall behind it, stopped only by the resistance of the hinges. You stop in the doorway as he crosses the spacious office and nears the sleek glass top desk. You take in the decor, all of it shiny and modern. He’s got a good eye. Or hired somebody with one. 

He sits in the white leather chair and puffs, his feet set wide as he scowls. His arms drape over your sides and he narrows his sights at you. You try to make yourself smaller as your nakedness sets you on fire. 

“What the hell are you waiting for?” He snarls. 

You smile sheepishly and step inside slowly, “er, I’m wondering that too--” 

“Get over here,” he points between his knees. 

“Oh, okay,” you giggle nervously and cross to the desk, coming around stand beside him. 

“What the hell are you doing? Get underneath,” he flicks your arm and you wince with a hiss. “Gotta train that mouth right so let’s get going.” 

You furrow your brow and the corners of your mouth tug down. He’s so gross. He lifts his chin and stares up at your defiantly. 

“Got something to say, cause what I want you to do with that mouth has nothing to do with chatting, sweet lips,” he reaches up and drags a finger across your lips and pokes between them.

You turn away, swatting him as you back up.

“Hey,” snaps and points in your face, “watch yourself. The hard my dick gets, the thinner my patience.” 

You curl your lip and repress a shudder. You can still taste him. Gross. He didn’t even let you wash your mouth out. 

You reluctantly back up and tread around the other side of the desk. He leans back and undoes his fly. You hold your breath as you try to repress every comment that flits across your mind. It will all be easier if you just be quiet. Just get it over with. And it wasn’t that bad, the end was just a bit icky. 

You close your eyes and lower yourself with a tortured strain in your cheek. Stop thinking about it. If you don’t think and just do, then it won’t be so weird. You open your eyes to dip under the desk and crawl beneath the glass. 

He pumps himself with his hand and you grimace. You get closer, staring down his... little monster. Little... you suppose it’s a good size. I mean, he could be in one of those videos you’ve seen on the internet. And yet, some of the men you’ve seen in those aren’t exactly hunks. 

You gulp and snort through your nose. Stop. It’s not funny. It’s just weirdly flesh and the veins that stick out are distracting.  

He brings his other hand down to grab your chin and forces you closer with a growl. You nearly smack your head off the edge of the desk’s frame. 

“Laugh one more time,” he warns. 

You seal your lips as he aims his tip at your mouth. You make yourself open up and stretch around him. The sensation of his smooth, slightly ridged skin presses to your tongue, and he pushes you deeper. He hits your reflex and you twitch, letting out a gag. He holds you there and you kick your feet, clawing at his pants. 

He lets you up and shoves you back down. He drags you along his length as slobber smears around your mouth and you puff through your nose. The motion makes you dizzy and your throat burns as he forces his way in. 

Your hand drifts further up beneath his shirt and you feel the hard muscle of his stomach. A fleeting thought flickers in your mind as you spread your fingers wide across his middle. You try to slow him down but he’s relentless. 

You swirl your tongue around his tip as he eases you back and he flinches, letting out a whine. You do it again. It must feel good as his grip loosens on you. You drag your hand down and graze along a wrinkle in the top of his slack pants. He groans. 

Slowly you feel him relaxing. That’s better. The pressure in your neck lessens and you flutter your fingers along his hand. He lets go of his base and you brush along his sack. He grunts again, clutching the arms of the chair. You tickle as he squirms and grip his tightly. You’ve seen lots of videos. 

You stroke him in time with your mouth. You feel his control dissolving as you take over. For once in your life, you feel powerful. It’s like a joystick and you can make him do whatever you want. 

“Toots, hold on,” he breathes, “you’re gonna--- not again--” 

You stop and pop your lips off him abruptly. You angle your head to look at him through the desk and see how his cheek ticks and he furrows his nose. He sucks in air and holds it in. He lets out a drone. 

“Shit, you almost—almost got me,” he utters, “you gotta slow your roll, cheeks.” 

You slant your mouth and arch your brows. Suck my dick. Don’t suck my dick. Just like one minute, he hates you and the next he’s snatching you up. He’s as whimsical as a rainstorm.  

“Don’t give me that look,” he sighs and sits back again, “just--” he shows a palm, “slow. I wanna savour it, sweet lips. You should too.” 

[shadow1515]

i love this reader so much!!! she's so funny and such a perfect match for lloyd's bullshit (i really hope she keeps messing up his name too, either on purpose or genuinely lmao)

super excited to see where this goes and how lloyd is able to deal with little miss sweet lips <3

[shadow1515]

Really really jonesing for some Cooper x Blind!/Partially Blind!Reader. Mad angsty for a man that doesn’t think he deserves love/sex/the time of day only to be met with a woman who quite literally likes him for his grumpy ass personality (and the sex is an added bonus) 🫡

hi! sry for the late response to this. I think this is a really interesting idea, but I don't think I am the right person to write this simply because I do not know really how to write a reader who is blind or partially blind and I don't want to write it in the wrong way. I also think this story would be a bit more fluffy and light than what I am in the mood to write for right now.

thank you for sending in a request! But I am going to have to decline <3

[shadow1515]

Too Sweet

Pairing: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard/Female, Surface Reader Word Count: 5,138 Warnings: a lot, rape/non-con, older man (he’s a zombie basically)/younger woman (reader is 20), monster fucking, size kink, rough sex, gun play, blood kink, glove kink?, loss of virginity, dacryphilia, forced orgasm, orgasm denial, creampie Summary: Your father dead, brother gone in search for his killers, mother gone in search for him, you were left alone in the wilderness. You thought you knew how to take care of yourself, but that idea is challenged when a certain ghoul in a cowboy hat shows up at your dining room table. Tags: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. READ THE WARNINGS. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. Please, read the warnings, if any of this triggers you do not continue!!!!!!!!!! Note: first post here, but i also posted on ao3 where i have posted fics before... just... bear with me, the brain rot was real for this one. I have never written anything at this level of depravity but this yucky looking man without a nose took hold of me and I had to write this. I did most of it when I should have been studying for a quiz, but it's fineeeee. Anyway, please enjoy this 5k word piece of filth that was only read through once…… (And yes the title is based off Hozier’s song Too Sweet.)

You were born and raised on the surface with its sandy horizons and burning sun, but your life was definitely better than most others who live on the surface of this godforsaken world. Your parents had found a nice place with tons of supplies, the ability to grow plants, a water filter, and it was hidden fairly well. You weren’t entirely sure how they had found such a haven in the wasteland, but honestly you couldn’t complain too much. Alongside your older brother, you grew up knowing how to grow your own food, hunt, defend yourself, create booby traps, the normal things every kid grew up learning. You were also one of the lucky few that was taught how to read and write as your mother had been taught by her parents and passed it onto you and your brother, something you were forever grateful for. 

Books were a solace for you, one of the few you could find, especially after your brother ran off to god knows where and your mother went off in search of him just a few months ago. After your father passed away three years ago, your brother felt it necessary to be the “man of the house” and make sure you and your mother were taken care of. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful for his protection and watchful eye, but he could be a little extreme at times. Your father died just over a year ago, and it was hard on all of you. Perhaps your brother took it a bit harder since he never showed his sadness about it… only his anger. See, your father was killed by some raiders on one of his outings to get more supplies. Your brother was with him when it happened but managed to escape. You were almost one hundred percent sure that was where your brother had gone; looking for your father’s killers.

Unfortunately, that had been just over four months ago. A few days ago your mother grew sick of it and went to try and find your brother, leaving you all alone. You knew how to protect yourself and make sure the house was protected and hidden, but that didn’t mean you liked being alone or that you didn’t worry every day about your missing family. In fact, it made it worse.

You felt your patience and sanity wearing thin as the days went on and you heard nothing from your mother or brother. You were worried sick, the only things keeping you from running off by yourself were tending to the farm and the chickens, checking on the water filter, reading your books, really anything to distract you from the inevitable truth;that your family was dead. 

One day, you were out tending to the livestock and farms for most of the day. It was starting to get dark and mostly everything was done, so it was about time to head inside for the night. As soon as you opened the door, you could tell something was off. Maybe it was the slightly larger, sandy footprints through the hallway, or the way that everything around you seemed to stand still, either way you knew something was wrong. Unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough. Even with your added paranoia from being alone for a few days, your reflexes couldn’t have prepared you enough for the sight of a man… no, a ghoul, lounging at your dining table. Seat pulled back, feet on the table, fingers lazily playing with the trigger of the sawed off shotgun that was pointed directly at you. 

Part of his face was obscured by a ragged hat, but you could still tell that he was a ghoul, his face covered in scars, red and shiny from the radiation. He slowly lifted his head, dark eyes shining in the setting sun streaming through the window, the black hole where his nose should have been even more prominent as his gaze slowly trailed from your muddy boots up your bare legs (you wanted to wear shorts, it was hot out), across your curves until they finally landed on your face, lingering on your parted lips for a moment too long in your opinion. 

Your eyes, on the other hand, kept on moving between his ruined face to the gun pointed at you in quick succession, not knowing which to focus on more. Before you could think of doing anything else, he finally spoke.

“Well, sweetheart, seems you found yourself in quite the predicament here.” The words roll off his tongue easily, like they were practiced, used, normal for him to utter. That nickname too, so antagonizing and belittling with just two syllables. It made your blood boil… not like that… right?

You attempted to speak, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, your eyes still flicking between the barrel of the gun and the ruined face before you. Your very apparent lack of thoughts and speech only made the ghoul chuckle. It was a deep sound, like a rumble of the earth during a thunderstorm, the vibrations running all through your body, unyielding to the forces that surround you. 

“Cat got your tongue, darlin’?”

The question was not meant to be answered, in fact it made all semblance of words leave your mouth entirely. He stood up then, the spurs on his boots startling you as he took step after step closer to you, the gun in his hand hanging loosely at his side. At first, you didn’t move, but as he got closer, you took a fearful step back, not realizing until it was too late that he maneuvered you in such a way as he was getting closer so now your back was flush against the wall. The ghoul was close now, too close, so close you could feel his body heat, the stench of his breath from his yellowed mouth, the gunpowder and cigarettes and booze that lingered on him like a haze after a fire. He was terrifying. 

You let out a pathetic squeak as the end of his shotgun found its place underneath your chin, tilting your head up to make sure you looked him directly in the eyes. His eyes weren’t an evil yellow or filled with contempt, they were a deep brown, a soft brown, and they were filled with an emotion you really could not place. The position you were in was compromising, with his face inches from your own (his hips inches from your own). And that look in his eyes. Why couldn’t you figure it out?

The cool metal of the gun felt as if it was burning you as he tipped your head back just a bit more, his dark eyes focused on yours, “Ain’t you just a sweet little thing, all alone, no way of protectin’ yourself.” You did have a way of protecting yourself, it was called booby traps that he somehow managed to get by, but you bit your tongue. 

“What do you want with me?” You managed to speak that one question that was burning in your mind in spite of the shivers of fear that ran down your spine as your chin moved the shotgun touching it.

At that little comment from you, the ghoul smirked like the bastard he was, “Well you see, missy,” You felt a surge of relief followed quickly by terror again as the gun left your chin only to trail down your neck and land on the collar of your tank top, a collar that was already pretty low cut (again, it was hot). The barrel caught in the fabric as he continued to speak, “I have it on good information that this little abode of yours happens to also be the home of a stupid boy who crossed paths with the wrong man.”

Your heart sank. You knew exactly what he was referring to. Your fucking brother, off doing who knows what, stirring up the worst kind of trouble. He wanted to avenge your father, you knew that, but did he not think? Of course he didn’t. He thought it would be all unicorns and daisies as he tracked down a pack of murderers. Why would he think twice about the trouble that would bring onto you?

“Look, I–” You gave a dry swallow as the gun at your chest pushed further beneath your shirt, just shy away from tugging it to the side and taking a peek. “You’re looking for my brother, right? I-I don’t know where he is. He left months ago and then my mother–” You cut yourself off, you didn’t want your mother caught up as this bounty hunter’s prey as well.

The ghoul cocked his head to the side, eyes never leaving your face even as the gun moved the fabric of your tank top to the side, your cleavage very obviously there for the looking. “Don’t let me stop you, sweetheart. Please, tell me more about your dear mama.”

You felt the tears on your cheeks before you realized they even formed in the first place. Why did this have to happen? You were blessed, you knew that, with this home and your family, but that didn’t mean you had to have horrible things happen to you as well. You already lost your father, your brother and mother were gone, but you didn’t do anything. 

The ghoul’s gaze followed the tears as they trailed down your face, a twisted pleasure running through him as he watched them. You were too sweet for this world, too sweet for a man like him to find you all alone like this. 

Without much extra thought, you felt the ghoul position his leg between yours, the rough material of his pants around his thigh immediately rubbing against the cloth covering your bottom half. The movement caught you off guard and another gasp of surprise left your mouth, a fresh wave of tears trailing down your face. So that was what he wanted… Growing up you learned what it was that made babies, the simple things like that, but you were sheltered, never leaving your home or the confines of your land, much preferring to stay with your family and not venture out into the dangerous unknown. And it was made dangerous because men, of things, like him.

“Awh, what is it, darlin’?” You heard the gun click into its holster at his side, one hand moving to grip your hip with a strength that really shouldn’t have shocked you, the other moving towards your face, his gloved thumb swiping at the tears gathering there. You mewled again as his thigh moved, the rough fabric causing unwanted friction in an unwanted place. “You scared of little ol’ me?”

“Please,” The fear you felt before only grew as the realization dawned on you. He wanted information and he knew the only way of getting it out of you would be to hurt you… but that didn’t have to mean just cuts and bruises, especially for a man like him. “Please don’t do this. I- I don’t know anything else.” 

You knew it was a lie, he knew it was a lie. You just wanted to protect your mother, and maybe you could convince him of that. At least, you hoped you could. 

The ghoul moved the hand on your face down, resting on the collar of your shirt, “Sweetheart, you really don’t know how the world works out there, do ya?” His face moved closer to yours, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, “It’s eat or be eaten, darlin’, and you ain’t telling me what I wanna know.”

“But-” You hiccuped as fresh tears left your eyes, “But I don’t know anythi–”

A sharp gasp that bordered on a scream escaped you as the hand at your hip left to join the other one and a loud ripping sound invaded your senses, your tank top now ripped clean down the middle, exposing your breasts to him.

Damn, your skin was so soft. Not a scar on your body, just some dirt and scrapes from working outside. The sweat from the sun still lingered on your skin, making it glow, and that scent, it alone was enough to make a ghoul go feral. But he could stave off that feeling if he found a way to get rid of it. 

The ghoul’s eyes found yours again in spite of your breasts being right there. “Sweet thing,” God you hated how small his nicknames made you feel. “I don’t think you’re understandin’ still. I got a bounty to find, you know how to find ‘em, and, well, I know a fun way to get it outta ya.” 

At that last comment you felt the rough leather of his gloves finally touch your breast, squeezing and toying with them in a way you never thought possible. His hands were everywhere, twisting, rough, strong, it made your skin sweat and your back arch. You whimpered as he tugged at your nipples, the pain mixed with a different feeling, one that didn’t feel that bad. As your back arched, your hips unintentionally bumped against his and you felt something hard poke at you. Your eyes widened in shock, the nice feeling from before immediately dissipating as your situation dawned on you again. With that thought, a renewed vigor filled you, your hand clenching in a fist that was raised and swung at the monster’s face. 

Your punch landed with a loud thud but to your horror he didn’t even flinch, just stopped his ministrations on your breasts to glare at you, his anger radiating off of him in waves. 

A cruel smirk grew on his scarred face, “There’s that fight I was looking for.”

His sentence was punctuated with a harsh slap across your face, the force making your vision blink out for a couple of seconds as your head swung to the side. You tasted blood in your mouth and felt a strong hand grip your jaw, harshly moving your head so that it faced him again. 

“You wanna try that again, sweetheart, or are ya gonna tell me what I wanna know?”

Despite your fear and the knowledge that this man, this ghoul, could kill you in a matter of seconds, it would take more than that to get you to give up your mother and brother to him. With that thought in mind, you gathered up some of the blood in your mouth and spit at him, the red liquid splattering over his already reddened face. 

The hand at your jaw moved to grip your throat, squeezing just enough to cause discomfort and fear that he could do much worse. You watched in horror as his free hand then moved to gather up some of the blood on his face, the finger now sticky and shiny with it moving to his mouth as he licked it clean, a face of pure pleasure overcoming him as he tasted you. 

“You taste sweeter than apple pie,” Your throat was squeezed tighter as his face grew closer to yours, his missing nose making it easier to invade your space. “And that just makes me wanna taste you even more.”

His head immediately moved to your neck where you felt his hot breath on your shoulder, his hand moved to grab at your face to keep you from moving. You squirmed in his grasp as you felt a rough tongue drag against your skin, the feeling foreign to you. It seemed like he really was tasting you, licking at the sweat and grime that coated your skin, savoring the taste. Your body tried to wriggle free, a scream warbled by the grip he had on your cheeks as you felt the blunt ends of his teeth bite deep into the juncture of your shoulder and neck. The force in which he bit down was sure to leave a mark, the abused flesh turning red and irritated almost immediately. 

You wanted to pass out right then and there, your mind racing with thoughts of what he might do to you next. He lingered at your neck for a moment before giving it one last swipe of his tongue and returning to look you dead in the eyes, a wicked smile on his scarred skin. Your face was smushed together by his gloved hand and you watched as his gaze traveled back to your neck, back to the mark he left there. His hand quickly followed that gaze, trailing over the mark before gripping your throat again. You saw as the thoughts and emotions raced behind his eyes but you didn’t know where they would lead.

Without any more warning, the ghoul used the hand on your throat to swing you around, slamming your back onto the table. You tried to get out from under him, swinging your arms and legs wildly, screaming (not that anyone would hear you), trying to land a punch or a kick, anything to get away. The ghoul grabbed a hold of your wrists in one hand, pinning them to the table above your head as his free hand went to his waist, grabbing the shotgun from its holster and pointing at your face once again. 

Your struggle stopped the moment you heard the holster pop open, your terror growing tenfold as you knew at this distance, one simple slip of his finger would cause your entire head to explode off your body. The ghoul’s smirk was horrible, devilish, and it turned your blood ice cold. He moved the barrel of the gun closer to you until it brushed against your pursed lips still stained red from your blood.

You knew what he wanted you to do, but you couldn’t, the thought making you want to die on the spot. The ghoul didn’t seem to like that, though, the barrel pushing against your lips more roughly.

“Open wide, darlin’” His voice was dark, gravely, filled with irritation but also wild interest, or perhaps lust. “You really don’t wanna make me even more angry.”

You looked deep into his eyes, the flakes of red across his face from your blood making him appear even more frightening, even more like a monster only seen in children’s stories. You knew if you hesitated any longer he’d be more than happy to pull the trigger and blow your head clean off. Your vision grew blurry as more tears formed, your mouth opening just the slightest amount to allow for the gun to slide past your lips. The taste of metal and gunpowder made you want to gag, your eyes finding the dark ones above you as a slow exhale of breath left the ghoul’s mouth, his gaze transfixed on the way his gun slid deep into your mouth.

“Ain’t that a sight,” He spoke in a low tone, voice filled with fascination.

The gun moved deeper into your mouth, the taste giving way to pain as it pushed against the back of your throat, your mouth wrapping painfully around it, stretching it in uncomfortable ways. You felt it begin to leave your mouth before pushing back in, the slow fucking of your throat by a gun making your tears only increase, the gaging sensation becoming more prominent. You tried to move your arms, to get the gun out of your mouth, but his grip was too strong, his fascination with the scene he created too enticing for him to stop. You felt a hard poke against your thighs as they draped over the end of the table and were pinned by the ghoul’s strong body. You continued to gag around the gun as he fucked it faster and rougher into your face, his breaths becoming louder above you. The hard poke from before rubbed against your thigh as he continued, unprovoked, or perhaps more enticed by your tears and the pathetic sounds attempting to leave around the thick barrel of his gun.

“It’s a damn good thing you ain’t out in the real world, pretty lady. You woulda been eaten right up the moment someone laid eyes on ya.” 

His final comment was finished as the gun was shoved further down your throat, a garbled scream rising from you only to be smothered by the metal. He finally removed the weapon from your mouth, saliva making the metal glisten in the dying light from the sun outside. Your cheeks felt burning hot, covered in your tears and sweat as you were given some reprieve from his assault. 

The ghoul looked over his gun, that same bastardly smirk still prominent on his face as he placed it back in its holster, leaving your spit still on it. “Now that was fun, wasn’t it sweetheart,” You tried to glare at him, but didn’t dare speak, your mouth too sore and abused. Your small fight made the ghoul chuckle again, the hand holding your wrists dragging you up from the table with a harsh yank. His face was inches from yours again as he held you in the air, the only thing keeping you from falling was his grip on your hands and his hips digging into yours against the table. “Wanna tell me where you dear mama is now?”

So this torture was still to get information out of you. You loved your mother, you couldn’t bear the thought of giving her up so easily just to save your own skin. 

“Fuck you.” Your voice was strained, your throat throbbing in pain at each syllable. 

“I hoped you’d say that.” With a shove, he threw you to the floor, moving to stand over you. With your limbs finally free, you scrambled to get away, but he was too quick, one heeled boot slamming down on your leg with enough force to stun you. You screamed out in pain, eyes going wide as you watched him reach for his belt, foot still pressed against your leg, keeping you from moving. His hands worked slowly, the terror building up in you at each passing second. His belt came off far too quickly followed by the button of his pants. 

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see where this was going. You heard the rustle of fabric as the ghoul removed his foot from your leg and went to straddle you, strong thighs on either side of your hips, one hand slammed against the floor beside your head, the other grabbing your jaw in a vice-like grip. 

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” You hesitated before giving in as his grip strengthened to the point of pain, making you gasp and your eyes fly open. “I want you to watch as I ruin you.”

The tears never seemed to stop, his hand leaving your jaw only to rip your shorts and panties down your legs in one harsh tug, the fabric burning against your too sensitive skin. You didn’t dare look down, your gaze staying fixed on his, hoping that if you didn’t look then it wasn’t actually going to happen. 

In spite of your prayers, you felt the rough leather of a gloved finger run through your folds, a sharp intake of breath the only sound you made. Your attempts at staying quiet were soon overcome as his finger found that secret spot just at the top of your cunt, the roughness of the glove and the fear that was coursing through your blood made it even more sensitive and a small mewl of discomfort left your lips. 

The ghoul continued to rub at your clit, your thighs beginning to shake, the sounds escaping your throat enough to make your skin boil in shame. “C’mon, pretty lady, do ya really wanna make this harder on yourself?” He went to whisper in your ear again, his fingers working magic against you. “I can make this feel so good for ya, just tell me what I wanna hear.”

Your hips began to buck against his hand, your moans growing louder as his thumb remained on your clit, one finger entering your cunt and it was like you were seeing stars. You had never done anything like this before, never really had the chance to. You experimented by yourself of course, but having someone else do it to you? It was on a whole other level. 

You chased your peak like it was the only thing standing in the way of your survival, your hips shaking, mouth agape, eyes still fixed on the dark ones above you. You were so close. You could feel it building, boiling over–

A pathetic cry left you as he removed his hand, bringing it up to his face as he inspected the wetness now coating his fingers. With that same hand he gripped your cheeks, your own fluids coating your face, the scent invading your senses. 

“I said I could make ya feel good, but you haven’t given me anythin’ in return yet.” His tone was so cocky, so arrogant, and yet it sent warmth shooting down to your core, unbidden and unwelcome to your mind, but it was received with exaltation as it fueled the slowly dying fire within you. 

“Please–” It was pathetic, you knew that, and you weren’t even sure what you were saying please to, please stop, please don’t stop, please let me come mr ghoul sir?

Your desire was partially snuffed out as you felt something large and warm slap against your stomach. The suddenness of it made you forget to not look down as your gaze landed on the ghoul’s cock. It was big, the skin red and irritated, scarred from the radiation, just like the rest of his body. As much as the pleasure he was giving you before felt amazing, you couldn’t take that thing. 

“That can’t fit,” You spoke hurriedly, the fear taking hold once more. “Please, I-I don’t know anything! I can’t help you, just please don’t put that in me.” Your sobs grew hysterical, tears free flowing, incoherent mumbles leaving you. “Sweetheart, you really think I care?” 

He was cruel, he was a monster, a horrible, despicable monster.

The ghoul reached for his discarded belt, using it to tie your wrists together above your head as you tried to squirm away from him again. And you watched in terror as one of his hands guided the head of his cock to hit against your opening, the other hand roaming down your neck to grab at your breasts again. The tip of him tried to get inside of you and you already felt like you would die right there.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you are tight.” His gaze left his cock and moved to look at you again, “You never been fucked before, have ya?”

Your blabberings and the fear in your eyes was enough of an answer for him. “Damn, didn’t think I’d find a cunt as sweet as yours in this place.” He finally managed to push in, the pain was horrible, it made your insides burn, your mind going blank. “Makes me wanna stay here just a bit longer, still gotta know where your little shit of a brother is afterall.”

Your mind was gone, overcome with pain as he pushed more of his length into you, heedless of your squirming, your tears, the resistance he felt as he kept on going deeper and deeper. 

It was horrible, you were glad your brain tried to block out other thoughts, albeit in vain as he pulled out just to slam back into you, fully sheathed in your tight cunt. 

“You’re gripping me like a vice, darlin’, I dunno if I can even get out.” He gave a soft chuckle at that, punctuated with a sharp tug from your warmth only to shove it back in at a brutal pace. 

You couldn't take it, couldn’t comprehend how this was happening to you. Distantly, you heard as his gloves came off, the rough skin of his fingers grabbing your hip with enough strength to form bruises while the other other arm braced against the floor beside your head, using it as leverage to rut into you. Your legs were splayed around his, your back scraping against the wooden floor, digging sharp lines into your skin. 

You could faintly hear quiet sounds escape the man above you as he fucked you, his arms moving to grab your legs, bending them until your knees were beside your head, allowing him to reach even deeper into you. The head of his cock felt like a nail was being hammered into your cervix with each thrust. Your glazed eyes wandered down to see where you were joined and a jolt of horror ran through you. Each time he rammed into you, your belly bulged up a bit, it was like he was rearranging your insides to make more room for him. 

The ghoul’s gaze followed yours and a louder grunt left him, one hand leaving your leg to press against the bulge on your belly. “Darlin’, you’re just too good for this fucked up world.”

The house was filled with the noises of flesh meeting flesh, your eyes were blank, staring up at the ceiling his thrusts continued. You didn’t want to think, to feel, to exist anymore. But the ghoul has other plans. Your face scrunched up as you felt a textured finger find your clit once more, rubbing it in all the right ways to make your mind snap back into focus. The pleasure was building again, each snap of his hips mixed with the bundle of nerves at your center being played with and you were reaching that peak again. Your moans intermingling with the slapping of flesh on flesh, you didn’t want to reach that crest and fall over it, you didn’t want this encounter to feel good for you too, but by god it did.

Your voice was raw as it screamed out, your pleasure pushed over the edge as you came, your thighs coating with your fluids, the noises becoming even more obscene as he continued to fuck you harder and faster.

“Goddamn, you are just too fucking good.”

His hands gripped your hips as his pace quickened but lost its rhythm. You knew he was getting close and the overstimulation of being fucked through and beyond your orgasm was making it hard to think of anything other than him. His hips finally stopped pistoning into you, giving one last, rough thrust as something hot and sticky filled you up, leaking out around his cock that remained in you. 

The ghoul braced his hands on either side of your head, his eyes zeroed in on yours, breath heavy, sweat on his brow. “You gonna help me out now, sweetheart?”

Your head lolled to the side, eyes closing as you passed out. 

[shadow1515]

(edit: CLOSED FOR NOW)

hello! i am in the mood to write more for the ghoul/cooper howard, but am unsure what exactly to write, so i'm gonna turn to you all!

this is sort of me opening requests, but only for the ghoul/cooper howard for right now. it might take me a bit to get to them, but i will lyk if i choose not to write or it's taking a while.

here's my criteria for requests/ideas:

only the ghoul/cooper howard from the Fallout TV show

only female or gender neutral/fem presenting readers (will also be younger, in their 20s)

can either be when he's a ghoul or when he's a human (but am leaning more towards ghoul rn)

preferably something dark and smutty (noncon, dubcon, kidnapping, similar stuff to my story Too Sweet), but am open to suggestions (will most likely lean towards dubcon tho if not straight noncon)

i WON'T do: underage, age play, watersports, stockholm, and potentially others (i will lyk if i won't do your request for whatever reason)

i have the right to turn down any requests/ideas, and there is no guarantee i will even get to them

i am absolutely open to either another oneshot or a continuation of Too Sweet! Drabbles or headcannons are also open (but would prefer stories over hcs)

pls only 18+ send in requests!!!!!!!

i don't know how long these will stay open, but we shall see. i might also add some other characters from other things, but for right now, here we go!

thank you for your time, and have fun!

[dark666posting]

Ghoulish Overkill

Fem!Reader x Dark!Cooper Howard (The Ghoul)

TW: NON CON, NON CON, NON CON!!! Gun play, cock warming?, abduction?, violence, more.

Summary: Cooper finds you in a bind and now you owe him.

**Notes: NOT proofread. I'm sorry. I'm lazy.

Just a few weeks ago, you escaped the clutches of your home vault and the corrupt system of council members along with the overseer. You don't know what you expected when you got out, but you knew it had to be better than being in that vault.

Everywhere you go, your pipboy buzzes with a static sound, reminding you of the inescapable radiation levels. By now, you've consumed so much tainted water, you're merely waiting for the transformation to start. According to your calculations, with the amount of radiation exposure you've experienced, you should begin to show signs any day now.

After a week of painstakingly waiting for your skin to turn to something akin to chewed bubblegum, nothing happens. Nothing. You even slice a small cut into your flesh to see if the infamous healing properties have kicked in. They haven't. You patch up the bleeding line in your skin and continue your aimless wandering.

Through luck, and luck alone, you managed to find a gun on your travels. In a makeshift holster still attached to an advanced decay corpse. You tell yourself 'You can't have shame out here,' but the feeling doesn't dissipate. It lingers with every kill.

You're low on bullets and your aim isn't great, though it has improved since entering the wasteland. It pains you to search the abandoned ruins of houses that held happy families centuries ago, but it's your best bet at finding any sort of weapon or ammunition to keep yourself safe. You come across a huge, run down house with a large solid wood door still standing in the frame. One good shove pushes it open, breaking past years of built up god-knows-what.

"H-Hello?" You call out. You always do, and you're not sure why. Perhaps just making sure no one's taken the place as their sanctuary already. No one ever replies, and this time is no different. You start in the kitchen, rummaging through drawers and cabinets. You manage to find a few shotgun shells, but you don't have a shotgun. Already off to a bad start, you head up the stairs. They're on their last limbs, and you have to jump with all your strength to get to the very top step. You steady yourself and glance around the room. It's seemingly empty until you turn around.

"Oh, shit!" You exclaim, nearly jumping out of your skin. On the other side of the room stands a ghoul. Not just any ghoul. This one is feral. The barely human monster begins to twitch and fling its extremities around, releasing a loud roar in the process. "OH, FUCK THAT!" You bolt out of the way as the creature charges at you, effectively getting you away from the stairs.

You run to the other side of the bed, hoping that keeping the large piece of furniture between the two of you will give you the time to ready your weapon and aim. You fire once, missing completely. The monster charges at you again. You fire a second time, hitting its shoulder, which quickly heals back into its scarred appearance. Each shot you fire in panic misses, or barely grazes the self-healing half human. Finally, you're completely out of bullets. Click, click, click. Your stomach drops.

You look back and forth at the very few pieces of furniture around you. There's a small nightside stand that you quickly grab, and throw at the ravenous being. She only erupts into more screams. In one swift motion, she leaps over the bed, arms reaching toward you to tear you to bits. She's mere seconds from getting her hands on you when you hear a deafening bang, and her entire head seems to combust on the spot.

Most of the blood and brain matter blew over you, luckily sparing you from being covered. Though, a few drops do splatter across your face like dark red freckles. Your mouth hangs open, staring in shock at the dead woman where she landed, right at your feet.

"Jesus fucking Christ, it will never feel normal," you whisper to yourself, exhaling shaking breaths.

"It better get to feeling normal pretty soon, you plan to survive up here, Vaultie." A stranger's voice clocks your origins instantly, the vibrant blue and yellow jumpsuit giving you away. You stick out like a sore thumb.

"Uh, t-thank you, sir," you force your gaze away from the corpse and to the man that saved you. You feel your pulse spike for a moment, seeing it's yet another ghoul. You begin to wonder how long it actually takes to turn.

"Don't think I'd go thankin' me yet," he looks you up and down and you suddenly feel self conscious. "How long you been runnin' around topside, darlin'?" His voice is soft, but still somehow condescending.

"A few weeks, I think. I've lost count," you huff, walking out from behind the bed, separating yourself from the dead body. You sit on the side that's facing the ghoul, almost excited to talk to someone.

"Few weeks, huh? You a survivalist or somethin'? Lots of RadAway in that tight, little suit somewhere?" He smirks, taking a seat in a chair across the room from where you're sat. "If you ain't turned yet, it might never happen, huh?"

"I think," you begin to feel a sense of panic in the pit of your stomach after his remark. "I think I need to leave." You stand, but his calm demeanor lets you know that's not going to be as easy as you wish it would. You're frozen in place.

"I don't think that's gonna fare well for you, Vaultie," he looks up from the big iron in his hands, meeting your gaze. "But you can sure try." He says with a soft smile. If you weren't so scared, you'd be infatuated. You've met plenty of ghouls since leaving the vault, and he's something else. But right now, you want to be as far away from him as possible.

You wait for the perfect timing. He lowers his eyes to the weapon in his hands, concealing you from his vision with his hat. You sprint with all your might toward the stairs, but you trip, just as you attempt to jump the gap in the rickety stairs. You nearly fall through the hole, several feet above a pile of trash, jagged wood, and rusty nails. You're dangling from the highest intact step, gasping in fear as you look down at the promise of infection beneath you.

Suddenly, you're being lifted back up to the top floor. You cling to the man for dear life as he hoists you back to safety. The comfort is short lived as he shoves you across the room, toward the bed. Your eyes widen and you turn around to face him. To your horror, he's right behind you, shoving you down on the mattress.

"Twice. That's twice in five minutes I've saved your life, Vaultie. If you think you didn't owe me before, I reckon you do now." He cocks his gun and points it at your head. "Unzip that suit."

Your stomach drops. Even if you had caps, you don't think it would've been enough to pay him to spare you. You watch his index finger snake around the trigger of the gun and your shaking hands quickly find the zipper pulled to your neck. Slowly, you pull the metal zip down, opening up the front of your vault suit. You look at him, unsure of what to do next. He silently motions with his weapon for you to keep going. With shuddered breaths, you slide each sleeve down your arms, revealing a cropped white tank top. Your nipples perk up as they're exposed to the breezy air, causing Cooper to inhale sharply through his teeth.

"That's it, now," he says in a low rumble, sending goosebumps across your skin. You finish removing the blue and yellow jumpsuit, and stand before him in nothing but your underwear and tank top. You stare at the ground in horror.

"P-Please, sir-"

"Shhh, we ain't even started yet, sweetheart." He places a gentle hand on your cheek and slides his finger down your jaw, hooking it under your chin. He lifts your head up to face him. You're shaking and exposed, too afraid to speak and certainly too frightened to run. "This won't hurt a bit if you're a good girl for me," he whispers in your ear.

Tears well in your eyes, creating an amplified sparkle that makes him rock hard. His power over you, it's like he owns you for this moment, and he loves it.

"Shhh," he repeats, wiping the tear that fell. "On your knees." You hesitantly do what you're told, kneeling in front of him, perfectly eye level to his pelvis.

"Sir, I'm sorry, please-" your pleads are cut short when he draws back the gun in this hand and knocks you senseless. You fall on all fours, blinking your eyes as you try to regain focus through the immense pain. Small sobs escape your lips, but you're quick to reassume your position, unsure if you'll make it out alive otherwise.

"Belt," he says, shedding his long, leather coat. You unfasten his belt as quickly as you can with your trembling hands. His erection strains against his undergarments and your heart pounds as you free it from his waistband. His skin is still scarred and discolored as it is anywhere else, but he's almost intimidatingly large and he's not even fully hard. One motion with his gun instructs you to start paying him back for saving you, but you find yourself involuntarily frozen.

The ghoul rolls his eyes, holstering his gun so he can grip the hair on top of your head with one hand, and force himself past your lips with the other. You protest for a moment, but he finally works his way inside your throat. You choke and gag for a moment, and he holds your head tightly against him, feeling every inch of your throat like he hasn't been inside something for 200 years. Hearty, vulgar moans pour from his mouth as he forcefully bobs your head.

"That's it, sweetheart. Goddamn," he moans, quickening your pace for you. Tears stream down your face and leave streaks in the dust that powders your cheeks just from being in the elements. You look so pretty to him with tears in your eyes. Taking you like this feels like punishing the very symbol of the institution that made him this way. It's all very cathartic for him.

Suddenly, as his breathing becomes sloppy, his forceful movements of your head speed up and the rapid action takes him quickly over the edge. He shoots his climax down your throat, holding you in place so that you take it all. He tosses his head back and exhales a loud, groan of relief. Once he's done, he slowly, painstakingly slips your lips to the tip of his cock, only then does he finally let your hair go. You fall to the floor, coughing and gagging, wiping the tears from your face and secretly trying to hide the wet spot forming in your panties.

"T-Thank you for uh, saving me..." You mumble.

"Whoa now, we ain't done yet, sweetheart. Climb up on that bed," he snaps, pointing.

"What? Sir, please-"

"I saved your ass twice, Vaultie. Bed." You stand up from your spot on the ground, knees red from the amount of time spent down there. "Look at you," he whispers, running his hands up your sides, under your cropped tank top. He cups your breasts with aggressive hands before tearing the thin fabric down the middle, exposing your chest and pebbled nipples. "You must be a little more excited than you let on," he taunts, running his thumbs over your breasts as he gropes them. He lies you back on the bed, climbing on top of you to bury his face in your neck, inhaling your scent and feeling your soft, smooth skin.

Cooper sits back and lifts your limp legs to his shoulders, locking eyes with you as he lowers his head. He pulls your panties to the side and licks slowly up and down your sensitive clit. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn away, too ashamed to continue watching him violate you this way. The more time he spends down there, the more your back arches and your hips buck up against him for more friction.

"Look at you, just dyin' to get filled up, huh?" He strokes himself a few times before lining himself up with your dripping entrance.

"Please don't..." you whisper pitifully. He chuckles as he shoves the head in, causing you to gasp. You're shaking your head no in one final attempt to protest. All he does is tilt his head to the side in mock sympathy. Without much warning, he's slammed to his hilt inside you, moaning as he does.

"Fuck," he groans as he begins to thrust in and out.

You cover your face and sob softly into your hands, but Cooper is quick to seize your wrists and pin you to the mattress. You slowly open your eyes as he's slamming into you. You see his rigid jaw and as your gaze travels up his strangely attractive, radiation-scarred face, you become locked into his unrelenting stare. His focused expression breaks into a smirk as he watches your expression morph. Just moments ago you were crying, begging him to stop, but now your eyes are threatening to roll back in your head.

"Please, please stop!" It's as if you snap back into reality, attempting to shove him off of you. He wastes no time cocking his gun, really letting you hear the sound of the hammer being pulled back, and placing it flush against the bottom of your chin as he fucks you. You quickly cease your resistance.

"I'm almost... Done with you," he groans, picking up his pace, slamming into you so hard that you can't help but scream in pain and pleasure. As he approaches his climax, all you can think about is his finger possibly unintentionally tightening around that trigger. Your pulse races as you climax against your will, releasing a long, vulgar cry. He finishes inside you just moments after, slowing to a stop, but remaining deep inside of you.

"P-Please let me g-go," you cry, unintentionally clenching your walls around him with every sob.

"I had planned to, darlin'. I did. But I think you might need to stick around a while." He groans as your pussy tenses around him. He finally pulls the gun away from you, and the breath you didn't know you were holding us released.

"What do you mean?" Your heart sinks.

"I mean you're mine now. You ain't turned yet, you're most likely immune. Can't let a pretty little thing like you wander too far. Someone else might take a turn," he chuckles devilishly as he slowly slides his cock out of your violated pussy.

You want to respond, but you're not sure how. He's already proven to you how easy it is for you to be taken just like that. Why even risk it with someone else? Someone worse.

"...Okay..." You agree, dressing yourself in your vault suit. Tears fall down your cheek as you fight the feeling of longing for more.

"Atta girl," he smirks, tossing a rope around your neck like an animal.

"What are you doing? I already said I'd go," you wiggle out of the binds.

"You're a set of holes, sweetheart. I ain't letting you run off nowhere," he winks, roughly pulling your wrists at him and skillfully tying them together. He leads the rope from your hands to your neck, holding the slack like a leash. "Get movin'."

The two of you travel through the day and into the night, setting up camp in a random abandoned building. As he settles back in his sitting area, a motion from his gun tells you yet again to get on your knees. You do as you're told, hearing the gun cock anyways.

[shadow1515]

Too Sweet

Pairing: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard/Female, Surface Reader Word Count: 5,138 Warnings: a lot, rape/non-con, older man (he’s a zombie basically)/younger woman (reader is 20), monster fucking, size kink, rough sex, gun play, blood kink, glove kink?, loss of virginity, dacryphilia, forced orgasm, orgasm denial, creampie Summary: Your father dead, brother gone in search for his killers, mother gone in search for him, you were left alone in the wilderness. You thought you knew how to take care of yourself, but that idea is challenged when a certain ghoul in a cowboy hat shows up at your dining room table. Tags: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. READ THE WARNINGS. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. Please, read the warnings, if any of this triggers you do not continue!!!!!!!!!! Note: first post here, but i also posted on ao3 where i have posted fics before... just... bear with me, the brain rot was real for this one. I have never written anything at this level of depravity but this yucky looking man without a nose took hold of me and I had to write this. I did most of it when I should have been studying for a quiz, but it's fineeeee. Anyway, please enjoy this 5k word piece of filth that was only read through once…… (And yes the title is based off Hozier’s song Too Sweet.)

You were born and raised on the surface with its sandy horizons and burning sun, but your life was definitely better than most others who live on the surface of this godforsaken world. Your parents had found a nice place with tons of supplies, the ability to grow plants, a water filter, and it was hidden fairly well. You weren’t entirely sure how they had found such a haven in the wasteland, but honestly you couldn’t complain too much. Alongside your older brother, you grew up knowing how to grow your own food, hunt, defend yourself, create booby traps, the normal things every kid grew up learning. You were also one of the lucky few that was taught how to read and write as your mother had been taught by her parents and passed it onto you and your brother, something you were forever grateful for. 

Books were a solace for you, one of the few you could find, especially after your brother ran off to god knows where and your mother went off in search of him just a few months ago. After your father passed away three years ago, your brother felt it necessary to be the “man of the house” and make sure you and your mother were taken care of. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful for his protection and watchful eye, but he could be a little extreme at times. Your father died just over a year ago, and it was hard on all of you. Perhaps your brother took it a bit harder since he never showed his sadness about it… only his anger. See, your father was killed by some raiders on one of his outings to get more supplies. Your brother was with him when it happened but managed to escape. You were almost one hundred percent sure that was where your brother had gone; looking for your father’s killers.

Unfortunately, that had been just over four months ago. A few days ago your mother grew sick of it and went to try and find your brother, leaving you all alone. You knew how to protect yourself and make sure the house was protected and hidden, but that didn’t mean you liked being alone or that you didn’t worry every day about your missing family. In fact, it made it worse.

You felt your patience and sanity wearing thin as the days went on and you heard nothing from your mother or brother. You were worried sick, the only things keeping you from running off by yourself were tending to the farm and the chickens, checking on the water filter, reading your books, really anything to distract you from the inevitable truth;that your family was dead. 

One day, you were out tending to the livestock and farms for most of the day. It was starting to get dark and mostly everything was done, so it was about time to head inside for the night. As soon as you opened the door, you could tell something was off. Maybe it was the slightly larger, sandy footprints through the hallway, or the way that everything around you seemed to stand still, either way you knew something was wrong. Unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough. Even with your added paranoia from being alone for a few days, your reflexes couldn’t have prepared you enough for the sight of a man… no, a ghoul, lounging at your dining table. Seat pulled back, feet on the table, fingers lazily playing with the trigger of the sawed off shotgun that was pointed directly at you. 

Part of his face was obscured by a ragged hat, but you could still tell that he was a ghoul, his face covered in scars, red and shiny from the radiation. He slowly lifted his head, dark eyes shining in the setting sun streaming through the window, the black hole where his nose should have been even more prominent as his gaze slowly trailed from your muddy boots up your bare legs (you wanted to wear shorts, it was hot out), across your curves until they finally landed on your face, lingering on your parted lips for a moment too long in your opinion. 

Your eyes, on the other hand, kept on moving between his ruined face to the gun pointed at you in quick succession, not knowing which to focus on more. Before you could think of doing anything else, he finally spoke.

“Well, sweetheart, seems you found yourself in quite the predicament here.” The words roll off his tongue easily, like they were practiced, used, normal for him to utter. That nickname too, so antagonizing and belittling with just two syllables. It made your blood boil… not like that… right?

You attempted to speak, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, your eyes still flicking between the barrel of the gun and the ruined face before you. Your very apparent lack of thoughts and speech only made the ghoul chuckle. It was a deep sound, like a rumble of the earth during a thunderstorm, the vibrations running all through your body, unyielding to the forces that surround you. 

“Cat got your tongue, darlin’?”

The question was not meant to be answered, in fact it made all semblance of words leave your mouth entirely. He stood up then, the spurs on his boots startling you as he took step after step closer to you, the gun in his hand hanging loosely at his side. At first, you didn’t move, but as he got closer, you took a fearful step back, not realizing until it was too late that he maneuvered you in such a way as he was getting closer so now your back was flush against the wall. The ghoul was close now, too close, so close you could feel his body heat, the stench of his breath from his yellowed mouth, the gunpowder and cigarettes and booze that lingered on him like a haze after a fire. He was terrifying. 

You let out a pathetic squeak as the end of his shotgun found its place underneath your chin, tilting your head up to make sure you looked him directly in the eyes. His eyes weren’t an evil yellow or filled with contempt, they were a deep brown, a soft brown, and they were filled with an emotion you really could not place. The position you were in was compromising, with his face inches from your own (his hips inches from your own). And that look in his eyes. Why couldn’t you figure it out?

The cool metal of the gun felt as if it was burning you as he tipped your head back just a bit more, his dark eyes focused on yours, “Ain’t you just a sweet little thing, all alone, no way of protectin’ yourself.” You did have a way of protecting yourself, it was called booby traps that he somehow managed to get by, but you bit your tongue. 

“What do you want with me?” You managed to speak that one question that was burning in your mind in spite of the shivers of fear that ran down your spine as your chin moved the shotgun touching it.

At that little comment from you, the ghoul smirked like the bastard he was, “Well you see, missy,” You felt a surge of relief followed quickly by terror again as the gun left your chin only to trail down your neck and land on the collar of your tank top, a collar that was already pretty low cut (again, it was hot). The barrel caught in the fabric as he continued to speak, “I have it on good information that this little abode of yours happens to also be the home of a stupid boy who crossed paths with the wrong man.”

Your heart sank. You knew exactly what he was referring to. Your fucking brother, off doing who knows what, stirring up the worst kind of trouble. He wanted to avenge your father, you knew that, but did he not think? Of course he didn’t. He thought it would be all unicorns and daisies as he tracked down a pack of murderers. Why would he think twice about the trouble that would bring onto you?

“Look, I–” You gave a dry swallow as the gun at your chest pushed further beneath your shirt, just shy away from tugging it to the side and taking a peek. “You’re looking for my brother, right? I-I don’t know where he is. He left months ago and then my mother–” You cut yourself off, you didn’t want your mother caught up as this bounty hunter’s prey as well.

The ghoul cocked his head to the side, eyes never leaving your face even as the gun moved the fabric of your tank top to the side, your cleavage very obviously there for the looking. “Don’t let me stop you, sweetheart. Please, tell me more about your dear mama.”

You felt the tears on your cheeks before you realized they even formed in the first place. Why did this have to happen? You were blessed, you knew that, with this home and your family, but that didn’t mean you had to have horrible things happen to you as well. You already lost your father, your brother and mother were gone, but you didn’t do anything. 

The ghoul’s gaze followed the tears as they trailed down your face, a twisted pleasure running through him as he watched them. You were too sweet for this world, too sweet for a man like him to find you all alone like this. 

Without much extra thought, you felt the ghoul position his leg between yours, the rough material of his pants around his thigh immediately rubbing against the cloth covering your bottom half. The movement caught you off guard and another gasp of surprise left your mouth, a fresh wave of tears trailing down your face. So that was what he wanted… Growing up you learned what it was that made babies, the simple things like that, but you were sheltered, never leaving your home or the confines of your land, much preferring to stay with your family and not venture out into the dangerous unknown. And it was made dangerous because men, of things, like him.

“Awh, what is it, darlin’?” You heard the gun click into its holster at his side, one hand moving to grip your hip with a strength that really shouldn’t have shocked you, the other moving towards your face, his gloved thumb swiping at the tears gathering there. You mewled again as his thigh moved, the rough fabric causing unwanted friction in an unwanted place. “You scared of little ol’ me?”

“Please,” The fear you felt before only grew as the realization dawned on you. He wanted information and he knew the only way of getting it out of you would be to hurt you… but that didn’t have to mean just cuts and bruises, especially for a man like him. “Please don’t do this. I- I don’t know anything else.” 

You knew it was a lie, he knew it was a lie. You just wanted to protect your mother, and maybe you could convince him of that. At least, you hoped you could. 

The ghoul moved the hand on your face down, resting on the collar of your shirt, “Sweetheart, you really don’t know how the world works out there, do ya?” His face moved closer to yours, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, “It’s eat or be eaten, darlin’, and you ain’t telling me what I wanna know.”

“But-” You hiccuped as fresh tears left your eyes, “But I don’t know anythi–”

A sharp gasp that bordered on a scream escaped you as the hand at your hip left to join the other one and a loud ripping sound invaded your senses, your tank top now ripped clean down the middle, exposing your breasts to him.

Damn, your skin was so soft. Not a scar on your body, just some dirt and scrapes from working outside. The sweat from the sun still lingered on your skin, making it glow, and that scent, it alone was enough to make a ghoul go feral. But he could stave off that feeling if he found a way to get rid of it. 

The ghoul’s eyes found yours again in spite of your breasts being right there. “Sweet thing,” God you hated how small his nicknames made you feel. “I don’t think you’re understandin’ still. I got a bounty to find, you know how to find ‘em, and, well, I know a fun way to get it outta ya.” 

At that last comment you felt the rough leather of his gloves finally touch your breast, squeezing and toying with them in a way you never thought possible. His hands were everywhere, twisting, rough, strong, it made your skin sweat and your back arch. You whimpered as he tugged at your nipples, the pain mixed with a different feeling, one that didn’t feel that bad. As your back arched, your hips unintentionally bumped against his and you felt something hard poke at you. Your eyes widened in shock, the nice feeling from before immediately dissipating as your situation dawned on you again. With that thought, a renewed vigor filled you, your hand clenching in a fist that was raised and swung at the monster’s face. 

Your punch landed with a loud thud but to your horror he didn’t even flinch, just stopped his ministrations on your breasts to glare at you, his anger radiating off of him in waves. 

A cruel smirk grew on his scarred face, “There’s that fight I was looking for.”

His sentence was punctuated with a harsh slap across your face, the force making your vision blink out for a couple of seconds as your head swung to the side. You tasted blood in your mouth and felt a strong hand grip your jaw, harshly moving your head so that it faced him again. 

“You wanna try that again, sweetheart, or are ya gonna tell me what I wanna know?”

Despite your fear and the knowledge that this man, this ghoul, could kill you in a matter of seconds, it would take more than that to get you to give up your mother and brother to him. With that thought in mind, you gathered up some of the blood in your mouth and spit at him, the red liquid splattering over his already reddened face. 

The hand at your jaw moved to grip your throat, squeezing just enough to cause discomfort and fear that he could do much worse. You watched in horror as his free hand then moved to gather up some of the blood on his face, the finger now sticky and shiny with it moving to his mouth as he licked it clean, a face of pure pleasure overcoming him as he tasted you. 

“You taste sweeter than apple pie,” Your throat was squeezed tighter as his face grew closer to yours, his missing nose making it easier to invade your space. “And that just makes me wanna taste you even more.”

His head immediately moved to your neck where you felt his hot breath on your shoulder, his hand moved to grab at your face to keep you from moving. You squirmed in his grasp as you felt a rough tongue drag against your skin, the feeling foreign to you. It seemed like he really was tasting you, licking at the sweat and grime that coated your skin, savoring the taste. Your body tried to wriggle free, a scream warbled by the grip he had on your cheeks as you felt the blunt ends of his teeth bite deep into the juncture of your shoulder and neck. The force in which he bit down was sure to leave a mark, the abused flesh turning red and irritated almost immediately. 

You wanted to pass out right then and there, your mind racing with thoughts of what he might do to you next. He lingered at your neck for a moment before giving it one last swipe of his tongue and returning to look you dead in the eyes, a wicked smile on his scarred skin. Your face was smushed together by his gloved hand and you watched as his gaze traveled back to your neck, back to the mark he left there. His hand quickly followed that gaze, trailing over the mark before gripping your throat again. You saw as the thoughts and emotions raced behind his eyes but you didn’t know where they would lead.

Without any more warning, the ghoul used the hand on your throat to swing you around, slamming your back onto the table. You tried to get out from under him, swinging your arms and legs wildly, screaming (not that anyone would hear you), trying to land a punch or a kick, anything to get away. The ghoul grabbed a hold of your wrists in one hand, pinning them to the table above your head as his free hand went to his waist, grabbing the shotgun from its holster and pointing at your face once again. 

Your struggle stopped the moment you heard the holster pop open, your terror growing tenfold as you knew at this distance, one simple slip of his finger would cause your entire head to explode off your body. The ghoul’s smirk was horrible, devilish, and it turned your blood ice cold. He moved the barrel of the gun closer to you until it brushed against your pursed lips still stained red from your blood.

You knew what he wanted you to do, but you couldn’t, the thought making you want to die on the spot. The ghoul didn’t seem to like that, though, the barrel pushing against your lips more roughly.

“Open wide, darlin’” His voice was dark, gravely, filled with irritation but also wild interest, or perhaps lust. “You really don’t wanna make me even more angry.”

You looked deep into his eyes, the flakes of red across his face from your blood making him appear even more frightening, even more like a monster only seen in children’s stories. You knew if you hesitated any longer he’d be more than happy to pull the trigger and blow your head clean off. Your vision grew blurry as more tears formed, your mouth opening just the slightest amount to allow for the gun to slide past your lips. The taste of metal and gunpowder made you want to gag, your eyes finding the dark ones above you as a slow exhale of breath left the ghoul’s mouth, his gaze transfixed on the way his gun slid deep into your mouth.

“Ain’t that a sight,” He spoke in a low tone, voice filled with fascination.

The gun moved deeper into your mouth, the taste giving way to pain as it pushed against the back of your throat, your mouth wrapping painfully around it, stretching it in uncomfortable ways. You felt it begin to leave your mouth before pushing back in, the slow fucking of your throat by a gun making your tears only increase, the gaging sensation becoming more prominent. You tried to move your arms, to get the gun out of your mouth, but his grip was too strong, his fascination with the scene he created too enticing for him to stop. You felt a hard poke against your thighs as they draped over the end of the table and were pinned by the ghoul’s strong body. You continued to gag around the gun as he fucked it faster and rougher into your face, his breaths becoming louder above you. The hard poke from before rubbed against your thigh as he continued, unprovoked, or perhaps more enticed by your tears and the pathetic sounds attempting to leave around the thick barrel of his gun.

“It’s a damn good thing you ain’t out in the real world, pretty lady. You woulda been eaten right up the moment someone laid eyes on ya.” 

His final comment was finished as the gun was shoved further down your throat, a garbled scream rising from you only to be smothered by the metal. He finally removed the weapon from your mouth, saliva making the metal glisten in the dying light from the sun outside. Your cheeks felt burning hot, covered in your tears and sweat as you were given some reprieve from his assault. 

The ghoul looked over his gun, that same bastardly smirk still prominent on his face as he placed it back in its holster, leaving your spit still on it. “Now that was fun, wasn’t it sweetheart,” You tried to glare at him, but didn’t dare speak, your mouth too sore and abused. Your small fight made the ghoul chuckle again, the hand holding your wrists dragging you up from the table with a harsh yank. His face was inches from yours again as he held you in the air, the only thing keeping you from falling was his grip on your hands and his hips digging into yours against the table. “Wanna tell me where you dear mama is now?”

So this torture was still to get information out of you. You loved your mother, you couldn’t bear the thought of giving her up so easily just to save your own skin. 

“Fuck you.” Your voice was strained, your throat throbbing in pain at each syllable. 

“I hoped you’d say that.” With a shove, he threw you to the floor, moving to stand over you. With your limbs finally free, you scrambled to get away, but he was too quick, one heeled boot slamming down on your leg with enough force to stun you. You screamed out in pain, eyes going wide as you watched him reach for his belt, foot still pressed against your leg, keeping you from moving. His hands worked slowly, the terror building up in you at each passing second. His belt came off far too quickly followed by the button of his pants. 

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see where this was going. You heard the rustle of fabric as the ghoul removed his foot from your leg and went to straddle you, strong thighs on either side of your hips, one hand slammed against the floor beside your head, the other grabbing your jaw in a vice-like grip. 

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” You hesitated before giving in as his grip strengthened to the point of pain, making you gasp and your eyes fly open. “I want you to watch as I ruin you.”

The tears never seemed to stop, his hand leaving your jaw only to rip your shorts and panties down your legs in one harsh tug, the fabric burning against your too sensitive skin. You didn’t dare look down, your gaze staying fixed on his, hoping that if you didn’t look then it wasn’t actually going to happen. 

In spite of your prayers, you felt the rough leather of a gloved finger run through your folds, a sharp intake of breath the only sound you made. Your attempts at staying quiet were soon overcome as his finger found that secret spot just at the top of your cunt, the roughness of the glove and the fear that was coursing through your blood made it even more sensitive and a small mewl of discomfort left your lips. 

The ghoul continued to rub at your clit, your thighs beginning to shake, the sounds escaping your throat enough to make your skin boil in shame. “C’mon, pretty lady, do ya really wanna make this harder on yourself?” He went to whisper in your ear again, his fingers working magic against you. “I can make this feel so good for ya, just tell me what I wanna hear.”

Your hips began to buck against his hand, your moans growing louder as his thumb remained on your clit, one finger entering your cunt and it was like you were seeing stars. You had never done anything like this before, never really had the chance to. You experimented by yourself of course, but having someone else do it to you? It was on a whole other level. 

You chased your peak like it was the only thing standing in the way of your survival, your hips shaking, mouth agape, eyes still fixed on the dark ones above you. You were so close. You could feel it building, boiling over–

A pathetic cry left you as he removed his hand, bringing it up to his face as he inspected the wetness now coating his fingers. With that same hand he gripped your cheeks, your own fluids coating your face, the scent invading your senses. 

“I said I could make ya feel good, but you haven’t given me anythin’ in return yet.” His tone was so cocky, so arrogant, and yet it sent warmth shooting down to your core, unbidden and unwelcome to your mind, but it was received with exaltation as it fueled the slowly dying fire within you. 

“Please–” It was pathetic, you knew that, and you weren’t even sure what you were saying please to, please stop, please don’t stop, please let me come mr ghoul sir?

Your desire was partially snuffed out as you felt something large and warm slap against your stomach. The suddenness of it made you forget to not look down as your gaze landed on the ghoul’s cock. It was big, the skin red and irritated, scarred from the radiation, just like the rest of his body. As much as the pleasure he was giving you before felt amazing, you couldn’t take that thing. 

“That can’t fit,” You spoke hurriedly, the fear taking hold once more. “Please, I-I don’t know anything! I can’t help you, just please don’t put that in me.” Your sobs grew hysterical, tears free flowing, incoherent mumbles leaving you. “Sweetheart, you really think I care?” 

He was cruel, he was a monster, a horrible, despicable monster.

The ghoul reached for his discarded belt, using it to tie your wrists together above your head as you tried to squirm away from him again. And you watched in terror as one of his hands guided the head of his cock to hit against your opening, the other hand roaming down your neck to grab at your breasts again. The tip of him tried to get inside of you and you already felt like you would die right there.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you are tight.” His gaze left his cock and moved to look at you again, “You never been fucked before, have ya?”

Your blabberings and the fear in your eyes was enough of an answer for him. “Damn, didn’t think I’d find a cunt as sweet as yours in this place.” He finally managed to push in, the pain was horrible, it made your insides burn, your mind going blank. “Makes me wanna stay here just a bit longer, still gotta know where your little shit of a brother is afterall.”

Your mind was gone, overcome with pain as he pushed more of his length into you, heedless of your squirming, your tears, the resistance he felt as he kept on going deeper and deeper. 

It was horrible, you were glad your brain tried to block out other thoughts, albeit in vain as he pulled out just to slam back into you, fully sheathed in your tight cunt. 

“You’re gripping me like a vice, darlin’, I dunno if I can even get out.” He gave a soft chuckle at that, punctuated with a sharp tug from your warmth only to shove it back in at a brutal pace. 

You couldn't take it, couldn’t comprehend how this was happening to you. Distantly, you heard as his gloves came off, the rough skin of his fingers grabbing your hip with enough strength to form bruises while the other other arm braced against the floor beside your head, using it as leverage to rut into you. Your legs were splayed around his, your back scraping against the wooden floor, digging sharp lines into your skin. 

You could faintly hear quiet sounds escape the man above you as he fucked you, his arms moving to grab your legs, bending them until your knees were beside your head, allowing him to reach even deeper into you. The head of his cock felt like a nail was being hammered into your cervix with each thrust. Your glazed eyes wandered down to see where you were joined and a jolt of horror ran through you. Each time he rammed into you, your belly bulged up a bit, it was like he was rearranging your insides to make more room for him. 

The ghoul’s gaze followed yours and a louder grunt left him, one hand leaving your leg to press against the bulge on your belly. “Darlin’, you’re just too good for this fucked up world.”

The house was filled with the noises of flesh meeting flesh, your eyes were blank, staring up at the ceiling his thrusts continued. You didn’t want to think, to feel, to exist anymore. But the ghoul has other plans. Your face scrunched up as you felt a textured finger find your clit once more, rubbing it in all the right ways to make your mind snap back into focus. The pleasure was building again, each snap of his hips mixed with the bundle of nerves at your center being played with and you were reaching that peak again. Your moans intermingling with the slapping of flesh on flesh, you didn’t want to reach that crest and fall over it, you didn’t want this encounter to feel good for you too, but by god it did.

Your voice was raw as it screamed out, your pleasure pushed over the edge as you came, your thighs coating with your fluids, the noises becoming even more obscene as he continued to fuck you harder and faster.

“Goddamn, you are just too fucking good.”

His hands gripped your hips as his pace quickened but lost its rhythm. You knew he was getting close and the overstimulation of being fucked through and beyond your orgasm was making it hard to think of anything other than him. His hips finally stopped pistoning into you, giving one last, rough thrust as something hot and sticky filled you up, leaking out around his cock that remained in you. 

The ghoul braced his hands on either side of your head, his eyes zeroed in on yours, breath heavy, sweat on his brow. “You gonna help me out now, sweetheart?”

Your head lolled to the side, eyes closing as you passed out.