20 ghouls ! ! i added another 29 to this file. more from fo4 and fnv, and a bunch from fo3 since ive now played it ! i want them all to look special :]!!! Here's the wip i posted previously!
Warnings: 18+, more mild bummer territory, voyeurism, food kink, sexual fantasies, masturbation.
Notes: I was really excited when Zao's number landed on food kink day. I've said before, I think the way to this man's heart is through his stomach, even if that heart is very guarded. He reminds me a lot of Jason Bright in that "serious, dutiful to his own cause" way. Enjoy.
Zao had never been one for spying on people. Well, he'd never been one to spy on the people he interacted with on a personal basis. Though collecting intelligence had been part of his job, he'd always felt a certain sense of propriety when it came to valuing the privacy of others.
At some point in his decades-long loneliness, he'd lost that propriety.
He'd never intended to become a sneak, a voyeur who watched people when they were unaware, but years and years with no proper human contact had made him yearn for interaction, even if it was only garnered in a secondhand way. The harbor wasn't the busiest place, but his binoculars showed him plenty of things he could easily miss if he didn't pay attention. It was for safety, he told himself.
Looking out out over the bay, clogged with debris and wreckage, to the shore on the other side, he sighed. How much longer would he be here, he wondered? For so long, he'd been resigned to staying, but since he'd grown determined to return to his homeland, he'd grown restless in more ways than one. Knowing how destroyed Boston was, he couldn't help but fret on what he'd be returning to.
He hardly remembered the reasons he'd fought for, the life he lived in the days before he'd helped end the world. It was all such a blur now. The only things that remained clear to him were his overwhelming guilt, his resolution to return home, and his fixation on you.
Wanting to be closer to the ship while you sorted out finding the parts he'd requested from you, you'd set up a little camp across the water, little more than a tent and a fire, an overturned log you used as a seat. Though he tried his best to leave you in peace, he couldn't help but check up on you...regularly. You went easily about your days, scavenging and tending your things and bathing yourself in the harbor. In fact, as he set his eyes in that direction, he could see you making your way in his direction.
He studied your form, the motion of your strokes as you swam across the narrowing channel, tugging an old industrial pallet on a rope behind you. He'd seen you use the little makeshift raft to transport things back and forth a few times, clearly having decided that being wet and irradiated was worth not having to walk so far or climb your way aboard the ship.
"Hi!" you called out as you came close, waving briefly before your hand disappeared beneath the water again.
He nodded in greeting, waiting silently for you to come aboard.
"Shouldn't do that." he said, watching as you pulled yourself up onto the ladder, dripping.
"Do what?" you asked.
"Be in the water so long. You'll end up like me."
And you're far too beautiful for that.
"Oh." you chuckled. "I'll be fine. High rad resistance and Rad-Away, you know?"
"Hmm." he replied, staring hard at the wall so he wouldn't be tempted to study the wet lines of your body as you dried yourself as best as you could. When you'd finished, you lifted a covered pot off of the little raft.
"I made soup. I wanted to see if you wanted to share." you offered, holding the old enamel crock up in front of you. The lid was on firmly, but he could already smell the contents, and they made his mostly empty stomach snarl like a savage beast.
The amount of effort and thought you'd put into this small gesture overwhelmed him. Zao couldn't even recall the last time someone had gone so far out of their way to do something kind for him purely out of kindness. You'd also packed along a couple of mismatched, though clean, old bowls.
"That isn't—" he began, hand up in front of him in an act of soft defense.
"I insist, really. I made so much, and it won't keep overnight with no place to keep it cold. I'd hate to see it go to waste." you insisted, your tone almost pleading. Something about it reminded him of all the times his wife would beg him to eat when he'd lose himself in his work, begging him to take care of himself for her sake.
My wife...
Zao felt the hard line of his mouth pull into a guilty frown.
"Alright." he agreed.
Though his intrusive memories had spoiled his appetite at first, it came rearing back the moment you lifted the lid, carefully pouring a portion of the hearty soup into each bowl as the smell filled the room. He recognized many of the vegetables he saw, but didn't recognize many of the notes he could smell. He could hardly wait to get his hands on it, regardless. Trying to mind his manners, he took a polite sip at first.
"Do you like it?" you asked, tone hopeful.
"It's..."
His grasp of English failed him, but his voice was thick with emotion when he spoke again.
"...delicious. Wonderful. Thank you."
A giant smile broke out across your face, and it made you look even better than you already did.
"That makes me happy to hear." you replied. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I tried to go for more of a general crowd-pleaser, but I realized I don't really know what your palette is like in general. I was worried you wouldn't like it."
The flavor was indescribable on his tongue. Even though he suspected his sense of taste had been warped by his transformation, it was salty and savory and he let out a deep, deep sigh, staring into the bowl. He wanted to cry. He wanted to throw himself at you and kiss you. He wanted to...
"Are you alright?" you asked, concern written across your face as he suddenly let his head slack back against the wall behind him in frustration, a dull metal thunk ringing out along the Yangtze's hull at the impact.
"Fine. Thank you for asking." you he replied as politely as he could manage. He glued his eyes to the point where the ceiling met the wall and refused to move it, frozen in humiliation as he felt himself growing erect all of the sudden.
Thankfully, you either didn't notice his indiscretion or were merciful enough to not say anything, continuing on with your own serving of the soup. After a few minutes of steady breathing, he managed to rein himself in a bit, enough to peek at you and see if you'd notice how strangely he was acting. You did make brief eye contact with him, sending his gut clenching, but you only smiled politely and nodded silently, continuing to eat.
Though he'd been so nervous about you watching him too closely, he proceeded to study your posture, the sounds you made, the way you held the bowl to your mouth and wrapped your lips around the edge. The way your still-damp underthings clung to your body.
"Don't know the last time I had real food." he said, desperate to fill the quiet air and distract himself.
You shrugged, eyebrows high in agreement as you chewed at an especially large vegetable chunk. A little drip of broth ran down your chin, skimming down your breastbone.
"Can't imagine there's a ton of good home cooking when you spend two hundred years on a submarine." you muttered, mouth mostly full.
"Yes, you're right." he replied.
It made him feel greedy, but he took seconds when you offered them, partly because the meal you'd prepared was so delicious and partly because he wanted you to stick around a while longer. You shared some polite conversation, asked him some questions about the ship, about his plans. He didn't ask you much about yourself, too afraid of committing some faux-pas and driving you off. You didn't seem to mind, happy to keep the chat going. After a while, though you gathered up the empty dishes and sunk yourself back into the water, tugging the thing along behind you as you crossed back over. There was a heaviness in his chest as he watched you go.
Things were unsettlingly quiet after you'd left. Off deep in the belly of the Yangtze, he could hear his grew growling and grumbling, scratching at the walls. Though the thought of them suffering turned his stomach, he knew they were better off sealed away where they couldn't harm anyone.
Feeling down, he settled into his usual seat on the top deck and put his feet up. Your comment was playing over and over again in his mind as he watched the last of the sun's rays dip behind the watery horizon of the Boston Harbor.
Two hundred years. Had it really been that long? Yes, it felt like a lifetime had passed since he'd resigned this place to its fate, but two centuries was far longer than a lifetime. He studied the dampening coil you'd given him, thought about how much closer he was to reaching his goal than before. There was a sour feeling alongside the satisfaction, he noted.
Turning his gaze further down the bank, he stared towards your little camping spot along the water. You were perched on top of the log, polishing something that looked like a panel of armor. You were back down to your underwear again, seeming to bask in the warmth of the flames. They washed you in an orange light that made you seem to glow, and he couldn't pull his eyes away from you. Though he should have been doing his typical route around the deck, watching for raiders and other possible intrusions, he felt rather fixed to the spot.
You must've been feeling hungry again, because you stopped your work at one point to rummage around in your pack, pulling out some sort of snack he couldn't distinguish. As you nibbled away at it, his thoughts were pulled back to the soup, back to that dribble he'd watched make its way down your chest. He thought about chasing the trickle with his tongue, and tensed in self-chastisement. It wasn't appropriate to think of you that way.
That fact didn't stop his cock from aching at the image in his mind, however.
Eventually, you retired for the night, dousing your fire with a bucket and crawling into your tent. For a while after that, the glow of a lantern beamed through the fabric, but eventually it went out. Finally able to stand, he did a lap around the deck, searching the dark for signs of movement. However, when he returned to his starting point, he sat back in his chair, letting out a beleaguered sigh. The ache in his groin was too great to ignore, but the idea of doing anything to relieve himself made him wriggle in embarrassment.
Breathing deep, he let his head rest against the back of the chair, trying his hardest to calm himself like he had earlier. He couldn't banish that image from his thoughts, however, wondering absentmindedly how far he down he could chase that savory taste before you'd stop him.
Maybe you wouldn't stop him.
"Ugh." he groaned miserably, his erection throbbing painfully. His hand skimmed the bulge in his pants before moving up to skim frustratedly over his face.
Fine.
Resigned, he freed his cock, giving it a few gentle tugs in the cool night air. His entire being burning in humiliation, he pictured tracing his tongue down your torso, tasting your skin and hearing you coo in response. If you'd poured the entire thing down your body, he'd have licked you clean like a faithful dog. He whimpered at the idea, stroking himself more fluidly.
What would you sound like if he slid his mouth all the way down between your legs? He'd heard you squeal in joy, in surprise. Perhaps it would be like that, a high, breathy sound of pleasure. Oh, what he wouldn't give to know exactly what it would feel like to have you tighten your legs around him as you came undone under his hands...
Unsurprisingly, his self-pleasuring didn't last long, especially once he let his mind wander too far. His face still felt hot as he cleaned up the mess spattered across his lap. For a moment, he felt some satisfaction, but it was quickly replaced with ever-more guilt. Twilight was beginning to break over the harbor. Soon, your tent would light up again, you'd emerge and torture him with your beauty.
