⭐️ okay but high sex with hancock for the first time thought ⭐️
after shotgunning jet, he leans back on his ratty couch back in the old state house and has you ride him. he sent his entourage away earlier but the doors are wide open so the ones guarding the entrances on the lower levels can hear every whimper, whine, and moan.
every husky exhale and the wet slapping of your thighs as you take his dick nice and fast, the rough glide of his fingertips making you squirt over and over again.
you’re a fucked out sloppy, mess; eyes half-lidded and drooling as you bounce on his lap. his raspy voice coos in your ear about how pretty you look, how lucky he is to have someone like you. rough lips press kisses to your sweaty temple, the sweep of your cheekbone.
his broad palms cup your hips and knead the fat of your ass, guiding you into languid grinds against his pelvis.
and when he’s finally, finally ready to cum - to fill up your pretty little cunt because you begged so pretty (damn the rad sickness), he tucks his fingers into the slick heat of your mouth. fucks the scarred flesh across your tongue a few times just to hear you whine before he replaces it with the hard plastic of a jet inhaler.
he depresses the canister with an aerosolized hiss, bucks his hips up into the cradle of your body, and nibbles your earlobe. husks, “nice deep breath for me, sunshine. enjoy the ride.”
bleary eyed and half aware, you obey with a sloppy swivel of your hips. the world spins in a blur of motion, time crawling to a stop as your back arches with a wounded noise. pleasure burns in the pit of your stomach, spreading out along your limbs as you feel every nerve ending light up like a supernova.
your clit throbs so hard it hurts as you clamp down on his cock, the shaft jerking against your gummy walls.
he growls, the low sound guttural and drawn out to your damped senses and there’s an endless bloom of warmth deep behind your navel. every spurt of cum filling you up makes you jolt.
when the jet high finally wears off, you’re slumped over hancock. your fingers unlatch from the collar of his frock coat, stiff with disuse.
sweat soaks you from head to toe, and you feel wrung out like a used towel. aches and pains settle into your joints, your muscles too weak to hold up your hazy head.
a thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, wicking away a dribble of drool. hancock sucks his fingertip into his mouth with a hum, “dontcha worry. i’ll clean you up real sweet and tender like.”
Summary: You're houses newest fling, but something is causing alarm bells to go off in your perception 10 head
Cw: smut, cuckchair House, mmf threesome, oral (fem reciving), fingering, voyeurism, a bit of exhibitionism, creampie, cumshot (on stomach), house ordering his decoy around, overstimulation, mating press, pantie sniffing
Note: to avoid confusion, the real House is mostly referred to as Mr House/House, while decoy house is referred to as Robert.
It was another usually night for you.
Another high-end Michelin star restaurant with amazing food prepared by another famous chief. Bodyguard sitting stealthily at a nearby table as other customers try not to make it obvious that they are gossiping about you and your date. Robert House.
As a signer, you've dated plenty of rich and influential men, but none as rich and influential as the one sitting beside you right now. He wore his usual fine tailored suite, with his hair neatly gelled, and mustache oiled and combed.
You two sit in the corner booth, far to big for just the two of you, but billionairs have a tendency to get what they want. Plus he insists a corner seat is necessary for safety, something about being able to see the whole restaurant. You don't argue.
It's been three months since you two have officially started seeing each other in public, and since then you, and your music, has been receiving a lot of attention. Which was to be expected, it's a part of these kind of arrangements. Though you and Robert never sat down and discussed this arrangement of yours, it's more of an unspoken thing. He gets to have a pretty thing on his arm to showoff, and some good publicity, and you get money, gifts, fame, and plenty more show bookings. It's a win-win.
But there was something... off about House. Or more so there was a lack of offneess?
In all your years dating rich and powerful men, you have come to learn one thing... they are all total weirdos. At some point when dating a man of this status, there comes the point where the shoe drops and the facade falls. Whether it's some Hollywood director confessing his pregnancy race play fetish, or some CEO who likes to wear a diaper 24/7 "just incase", you come to accept that it's just a part of dating these guys.
Would you like to date a normal person? Yes, but alas the music industry is brutal and the economy even more so, so why not schmooze up to the wealthiest guy in America and put a few million in the bank while at it.
But with Robert, that hasn't happened yet, which is suspicious...
The sex is so far very vanilla, no weird hobbies to know about (yet), sure he's a but paranoid about safety, but that is to be expected of someone of his status. But there was something that was just... off about this guy.
"How are you finding your gnocchi?" Robers voice shakes you from your thoughts.
"Mh, it's delicious, thank you. You were right about me enjoying the sauce, I've never tried it before"
His eyes crinkle in a smile "I told you I know these things, I know everything" he says while pointing his fork at you jokingly.
You couldn't help but giggle at his ego, so sure of himself, but you'll give him credit when credit is due, the gnocchi is splendid.
"You know everything?"
"Yes"
"...what happens after we die?" There is a beat of silence, before Robert gives a face that says 'really?'
But then it happens. Just barley noticeable, but it's happened enough for it to become noticeable these past few months. His face changes, a quick look to the lower right, a swallow, slight straightening of his posture.
"You rot" he states solemnly, almost like he didn't want to tell you.
"You rot" you repeat back to him quietly.
~~~
About an hour later you find yourself in the elevator going up to the penthouse. Since desert Robert has been giving you that look, the one that says he wants to eat you alive, and he delivers. He's been kissing and sucking a spot on your neck since he hit the button for your floor.
When the elevator dings, he effortlessly spins you around and walks you backwards into the penthouse and lifts you onto the counter. He brings your mouths together in a searing kiss, one hand on the back of your head as the other caresses it's way up your leg. You get lost in the feeling of you dress dragging and inching up your body when you hear it.
That tiny sound that has been bugging you.
It's like when you hear a fly or mosquito but can find it. You always figured it was some machine he had running, but it's so inconsistent.
You tilt your head back to give Robert more room and he quickly takes the hint, kissing down your neck, to your clavicle and you can still hear it, mocking you, as if it's right under your nose.
You look down at the feeling of hand moving up your body as Robert cups your breast's and pushes them together so he can shove his face in your chest. "God your tit's are fantastic... so soft" he confesses into your skin. He stops his praise of your body to wrap his arms around you and start working at your dress. You take the opportunity to kiss along his jaw, making your way to his neck and kissing the spot behind his ear when you hear it again, now clearer then ever. A murmur, like someone talking behind a thick wooden door.
You pull back slightly and that's when you see it. Barley there, deep in Robert's ear is a small skin colored device. Your dress falls from your shoulders and you are suddenly being pulled to stand in a pool of your clothing, wearing just your underthings.
Robert takes a step back from you, gently letting your hand fall from his as he gets a proper look at you and let's out a deep sigh.
"Look at you" he states breathlessly, admiring you as he walks backwards to his chair before sitting down and getting comfortable. "Now" he readjusts how he is sitting before curling his finger at you in a come hither motion
"Come here and show me what's mine" he finishes in a deep voice.
"Okay..." You weight out your options for a moment before slowly making your way towards Robert "...but only..." You trave a single finely manicured nail along the arm of the chair as you sit on his lap and lean into the ear where you saw the device "...if I get to meet whoever in here" you emphasize your point by tapping your finger to the spot right before his ear,
Again that sound starts, and while you have no idea what is being said you now know for sure that it is indeed talking coming into the earpiece with how the volume tone and pitch change.
Robert freezes, looks to the lower right, swallows and readjusts his posture before talking.
"...um, I don't know wha-" "oh please" You interrupt, standing from your spot on his lap and placing your hands on your hips.
"There has been something off about you since we met, and I'm not talking about the warlord and robot stuff"
House opends his mouth to defend himself "and I know about your little earpiece thing so dont bother" you state causing Robert to quickly close his mouth. And for the first time Robert look completely lost for words. A few sounds come from him as he tries to think of an excuses, but for once his earpiece was completely silent. Was he really supposed to get himself out of this one?
But then, a slow clap is hear from the opposite corner.
"Bravo, Miss l/n..." spoke a posh transatlantic accent.
They both turn to the new body in the room as the clapping stops. "I'll admit I'm impressed, no one before you has been able to see through our little charad. You must be quite perceptive"
You stand there for a moment, still in your underwear, as this new man talks. You then take a moment to look between the two before a smirk fell on your face. "You've got to be kidding me," you look towards Robert, the one you were just kissing, " you're a fucking body double?" You say in disbelief. He has the decency to confirm your theory and look away in guilt, while the real Robert House continues.
"Yes, I know this must be very confusing and shocking to you-"
"Have you been watching and listening to us having sex all this time?" Mr House quickly stiffens and shuts his mouth, a look of shame quickly crosses his features, and suddenly it's the real House's turn to be stuttering his words.
"Uhh-well... when you put it like that it sounds..." his words trail off as he attempts to escape the sentence.
"Perverted and an infringement on my privacy?" You finish for him.
A snort is heard in the other direction, and both you and the real Mr House look towards the decoy, who quickly straightens and lowers his gaze upon you two glaring at him.
"What you need to understand it that I am a very sought after man, and there are many out there who would be more than happy to watch me die" he states after collecting himself.
"I understand that just fine, what I don't understand is why you would need your decoy to fuck people for you"
"a necessary part of the fa-" "is it a fetish thing?" You interrupt.
"Excuse me?!" House states in an offended tone. You turn to the decoy. "It's a fetish thing isn't it? Like a cuck chair thing?" You ask.
At this point Mr House was flabbergasted and the decoy was having some troubles hiding the smirk on his face. While House sputters and trys to talk his way out of this situation, you and the decoy have a silent conversation that seems to come to a conclusion...
You take a quick look around the room while sauntering your way towards the decoy who still sits in the chair, and find what you are looking for, a camera.
You nod towards it "is that how you watch us?"
You sit on the armrest and gently card you fingers through the decoys hair.
"Sitting away in your hight tower, watching us fuck on your monitors? Instructing him?"
The decoy, you should really ask for his name, wraps his arm around your waist and brings you closer to his body. He grabs the hand that was playing with his hair and brings your knuckles to his lips.
You let out an exaggerated sigh as he starts kissing his way up your arm. You look over to House to find him still standing in the same spot, frozen, staring at the scene before him, fists white with how he squeezes them as he decides his next move. For a second you wonder if this is his first time in the same room where the sex is happening. You lean your head back and the decoy takes the invitation and starts kissing your neck again.
"Would you like a closer view this time Mr House?" You ask in a sultry whisper before closing your eyes to relish in the feeling of lips on your neck. The decoy takes this opportunity to pull you fully onto his lap, with your legs across his lap. One hand firmly squeezes you thigh as the other holds the back of you head. A happy sound escapes you.
"And what should I call you now?" You ask the decoy, but before he could answer you, House interrupts.
"Robert" you both look in his direction to see him now sitting down on the couch, in the corner furthest away from you two.
You smirk and look down towards 'Robert' who smirks back and gives you an eyerole that says 'what are you gonna do?' And you can't stop the giggle from escaping you. Robert gives you a genuine smile back before kissing you again, this time more forceful and desperate than the last.
As he deepens the kiss, his other hand slowly slides up towards your crotch before his hand cups you over your underwear. He grinds his palm against your underwear, slowly creating that friction that you crave, as the hand on the back of your head lowers you your back to find your bra. He skillfully unhooks your bra, leaning back slightly to let you take it off fully. You let out a sigh at finally being out of the uncomfortable garment, your nipples harden at being exposed to the air.
You return back to making out with Robert and quickly make work at his tie, loosening it before going to work at the buttons of his crisp dress shirt. "Put her on the table" your hear from the corner, to which you are quickly and effortlessly pick up by Robert and brought to the coffee table that sits infront of the couch he sits at. He lays you down and your back arches at the contact with the cool surface. Robert takes this moment to latch his mouth unto your breast, causing you to let out a sound in surprise.
From this position, you can see Mr House sitting on the couch watching you from your peripheral vision. He sits with one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette now balancing between his fingers as he watches you with desire pooling in his eyes. Robert switches to your other breast's and both your hands find his hair as you enjoy him toying with you. Robert starts to make his way downwards when House speaks up again.
"Take off your clothes" he demands.
Robert quickly obeys, removing himself from your body to stand up straight and discard his suit jacket. He finishes undoing the last few botton that you left and pushes his dress shirt from his shoulders and let's it fall to the floor as well. He stands for a moment in his white undershirt, and you take a moment to admire his toned arms and how nice his chest looks, before he's kneeling down onto the table with you. He kneels between your legs and wraps them around his waist, pulling your still clothed crotches together and gives you another deep kiss before pulling away once more to take off the wifebeater, revealing his hard and toned body. You guess with being the face of Mr House means he has to keep up with his appearances, not that you are complaining.
You two spent a few moment dryhumping against eachother and making out. Your tongues battling each other as you both grind your centers together. To your side you hear a shakey breath, and peak your eyes open to get a view of Mr House watching. His face is now red and his clothes in disarray compared to how he was a few moments ago, blazer unbuttoned and tie undone. He readjusts how he is sitting and for a moment you catch a glimpse of the tent in his pants, though he has yet to touch himself.
In your moment of distraction, Robert starts his journey down your stomach again, leaving a trail of open mouth kisses in his wake while crawling off the table to get a better view. He settles himself once he is kneeling between you with your legs on his shoulders, buries his face into your underwear, and takes a deep inhale of your scent.
"Fuck, you smell good" He states lustfully and takes a moment to make eye contact with you as his fingers grip the sides of you underwear. You give a brief nod to him and for a second his eyes look to behind you, where House is, then he returns his eyes to your center as he finally lowers your underwear.
He makes a show of it, dragging your underwear down agonizingly slow, kissing up and down your thighs, before finally taking them off and throwing them towards House. You hear what you figure to be House catching said underwear, followed by another deep inhale and sigh that causes a smile to break out on your face. You bite your lip and let out a moan as you feel Robert spread you open with his thumbs tracing your outer folds
"fuckin perfect" he mumbles in a gravely voice before diving in.
His mouth moves with great skill, switching between fucking you with his tongue and circling your clit. You both let out a moan in unison and you reach down to grab his hair, grounding yourself in the pleasure he gives you, your other hand reaches up above your head with a tight grip on the tables edge. Robert mouth latches onto your clit and starts sucking as one of his fingers starts to trace your hole before sliding it in easily with how wet you are. He reaches a hand up to stimulate your nipple and it's almost too much.
You throw your head back in pleasure and instantly make eye contact with House. He is leaning back now, face buried in your panties and his knuckles grip them tightly. His eyes are lidded and heavy with arousal as he looks down upon you two, his other hand cups and thumbs at his election through his pants. He seems to be in a trance, staring at you and how you body reacts to each stimulant. You feel yourself coming closer to the edge and your grip tightens in Robert's hair to alert him, but it seems to just encourage him further as he groans deep into your centre, the vibrations adding to your pleasure. Your thighs tighten around his head as you reach your peak, but before you could get there.
"That's enough now" House says in a deceivingly controlled voice.
You whine as Robert detached himself from you with a groan, the wet sounds of your cunt is loud.
"Give me a good view while you fuck her" he demands.
Robert enters you line of sight as he encages you on the table and gives you another deep kiss, giving you a taste of yourself. He then picks you up and brings you to the other end of the couch House is sitting on. He manhandles your body until you are sitting on his lap, back to his chest, head leaning on his shoulder as his chin rests on yours. He shoves his legs between yours and forces them to spread open, giving House the perfect view of your cunt.
You can feel Robert's bulg against your backside as he starts playing with your body. His hands grope and caress you all over causing you the squirm in his lap. He puts the palms of his hands on both your tit's and squeezes them together, watching them move before tracing your nipples with his fingers. He kisses your shoulder and looks up at Mr House to see how he is enjoying the show.
And enjoying the show he was, he always got a thrill out of how well his double listens to him, especially in scenarios such as these. The loyalty and obedience alone is enough to get him a little hard, but being here, in the room, as opposed to watching from the safety of his locked office, he is finding it all the more thrilling. The cameras could never do justice to such a scene, the security cameras don't pickup the color of blush on your cheeks, or the way your breath shakes in pleasure, or the way your cunt quivers with anticipation. The camera also can't capture the feeling of someone looking at you, actually looking at you, while receiving or giving pleasure to another. It was invigorating for House.
"I wanna see her cum on your fingers, then you can fuck her" his eyes are dark with lust.
Robert groans at the thought of finally being able to fuck you and slides two fingers into you as another circling your sensitive clit. You turn your face in embaressment at the wet sounds you are making and moan Robert's name causing him to echo yours back. He turns your face towards him and gives you a sloppy open mouth kiss that turns into you both moaning into each other's mouths as pleasure builds once again. Your voice starts to raise in pitch as you feel yourself getting closer and closer.
"Almost" you moan out desperately.
"Look at me" House says "make her look at me when she cums"
Robert let's out a chuckle, almost too happy to comply to the order, and tilts your face so you are looking at Mr House. Robert kisses and mouths the side of your face while holding you to maintain eye contact, fingers working expertly to bring you to your peak, three fingers in you while his thumb works at your clit. The eye contact fills you with a sence of shame, the kind that makes you cunt tighten and brings you over the edge. Your leg shake and back arches as you finally have your release, you try to throw your head back in a moan but Robert's tight grip keeps you maintaining eyecontact through your whole release.
As you come down from you high, Robert releases his grip on your face and kisses where he once touched, you shut your eyes for a moment when you feel a hand, a different hand, between your legs. You flinch on instinct, eyes snapping open and legs trying to close at the surprise. But your legs remain open due to Robert's hold on you. Upon your eyes snapping open you see Mr House, now kneeling on the couch between your legs, his hand now feeling your centre in all it's wetness and warmth.
"Shhh" House attempts to settle you and one of Robert's hands goes to petting your hair and kissing your hairline.
House looks at your centre like an machine he can't wait to take apart and figure out how it works. He spreads you open with his fingers and let's out a sigh at how warms and tight you feel. His eyes go from you cunt to your face to your cunt again as he tries to gage your reactions to his touch. His finger starts to circle around your already sensitive clit, causing a loud moan to escape you as your body tries to move away from the stimulation. A smirk falls onto House face upon your reaction and he brings his fingers to his mout to give them a taste
"Mmhh" House moans in pleasure "perfect indeed" before looking to Robert once more and giving him a nod.
This nod seems to have been the only thing stopping Robert from fucking you because the second it happened he started unbuckling his belt and pulling his cock free. For a moment he stand up and leaves you on the couch to watch him get fully undressed with House. He pushed his pants and underwear to the ground in one quick motion. He takes a moment longer to take off his shoes and socks and you take this moment to repay House the favor.
Your hand quickly finds where his cock is sitting in his pants and starts rubbing him over his clothes. He tenses up at first, and when his eyes meet yours they almost looked shocked that you would be touching him. He relaxes into the touch and let's out a groan, giving you the confidence to lean forward and kiss his open mouth. When you pull away he looks dumb with shock, which causes you to giggle.
You feel the couch dip behind you and return to your position on Robert's lap, kissing him as he runs his cock through your folds. Robert leans back a bit a pulls you up his chest to give him a better angle, his cock standing tall at the space between your legs before he grips the base to line it up with your hole. A deep, guttural groan escapes him as he sinks into you. You both stay still for a moment, getting used to the feeling of being filled, when you hear House undoing his belt. Robert seems to take this as a sign, as he begins to move inside of you. His thrusts are strong and consistent, almost like a machine fulfilling it's task as he fucks up into you, causing your tit's to bounce as well. You look down at the spot where you two meet and watch hypnotically as he pistons in and out of you, you both moaning in pleasure as you try to finish again. Your gaze lifts up toward House and his hand that he has fisting away in his pants. You bit you lip and whine while giving House your best puppy dog eyes, hoping he will let you see his cock, causing him to smirk.
"A desperate little thing aren't you?" He comment, out of breath from how close to the edge he feels.
"Do you enjoy being watch? Don't try to deny it, pretty things like you deserve to be observed and appreciated. You probably even got wet when you found out I was watching you" a desperate moan escapes you.
Houses watchful eye and praise as Robert pounds into you mercilessly and plays with your clit, its almost too much for you.
"Do you want to see my cock?" House asks, grabbing your chin so you are forced to look at him.
Your head is already nodding yes before you even realize it. His hand in his pants speeds up to match the pace of Robert fucking you, a wet spot at the front of his crotch now obvious from all the precum leaking out. Robert readjusts your position a little and starts hitting the spot inside of you that has you seeing stars.
"Oh fuck robbie" you moan out in a horse voice, encouraging him to hit that spot over and over again. You feel your stomach tighten and your toes start curling uncontrollably as you reach your second peak of the night. All you can hear are the moans from you three and the wet sound of skin slapping skin. Its then when you are right on the edge, House moves even closer to you two and finally frees his cock from his pants, triggering your orgasam. You feel Robert still pumping into you, chasing his finish as House finishes, letting out a long groan as his cum covers your lower stomach. A few pumps layer a Robert finishes closely behind, stuffing you full with his cum.
The room is quiet now except the ringing in your ears and the sounds of you all trying to catch your breath. Robert slowly pulls out of you and kisses your forehead, readjusting you to a more comfortable position and rubbing your legs to soothe them. You let out a relaxed sigh before breaking the silence.
"So..."
Mr House looks at you, still disheveled from your previous activities, and looking quite awkward.
"Would you say the view is better in here or you office?"
He smirks back regardless of the fact that his face is still red from jacking himself off, his eyes scans down your body, his fingers twitch in his lap.
Then his eyes zero in on Robert
"Fuck her again" he says calmly, a shiver of shock and arousal runs down your back at his words, and you can already feel Robert begin to move.
"Wh-" "I want her folded in half" he states nonchalantly, standing from the couch sitting on the coffee table next to you.
Robert has you laying on the couch now, with himself between your legs now, as he adjusts your legs around his waist before bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders. Your eyes meet his, and shock still must be evident on your face because Robert's eyebrows crease in what looks like concern.
"It's okay sweetheart, I got you, not like we haven't done this one before" he offers you a comforting smile which you return, his hands caress your legs. You feel him rocking his half hard dick against your folds and offer him some help, reaching a hand down to stroke him to hardness. He sucks a breath between his teeth then groans from the feeling, and leans down to kiss you in thanks.
This, subsequently, led to him indeed folding you in half.
Your thighs burn in pain slightly at the sudden stretch, but the pain is quickly overrided by overstimulating pleasure as Robert rubs to tip of his cock against your clit. You remove you hand now that he is fully hard, and he slides his cock upwards, into the mess House left on your stomach before sliding himself into you. All three of you groan at the action.
"Good boy" House whispers, causing Robert to let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a whine and start pounding into you hard. You whine and moan as his cock reaches deeper into you from this position, walls squeezing his cock in overstimulation.
"F-fuck, oh god-fu k Robert!" You moan out.
"Yeah... you take it- so good" He groans out between thrusts.
Suddenly you feel another hand on your body and open your eyes to find House leaning in close and bringing his hand down to your mound. His hand reaches down between your bodies, his eyes watching you as he plays with your clit. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you moan out in ecstasy, cumming for the third time that night. Your legs shake from the stress and Robert mercifully lowers your legs so your knees are hooked over his arms, and cums quickly after you. He moans out as well, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
Your both panting, and you feel House remove his hand from between you two, followed by some rustling. Then suddenly he's standing over you, hair and upper body as tidy as when he entered the room. A fond smile reaches his face as he looks down at you.
"Definitely the view in here"
~~~~~~
Sorry I didn't upload this yesterday we got a crazy snowstorm and the wifi was trash. On the bright side I was able to all an entire third round because of it somit all worked out.
summary: you used to be a singer in your vault - that skill comes in handy when you least expect it, and least want to use it. but who are you to say no when cooper tells you to sing for him?
wc: 5.7k
warnings: swearing, talk of murder, blood, alcohol, gun violence, sexual tension, smut, fingering, p in v sex, biting, possessive sex, possessive cooper
You had to admit - if you and your companion didn't find shelter soon, one of you was going to drop and the other wouldn't hesitate to feast on what was left.
The deserts of the Wasteland were harsh - you had known that the moment you stepped out of your vault those months ago and you had been faced with nothing but a searing sun, sand that got stuck places it shouldn't have, and creatures and fellow people alike who would risk it all simply for a quick grab at the pack on your back. But it seemed like this past week, God or Satan or whoever the fuck was controlling this shitshow of a world was in a bad mood. The heat was unbearable, even at night when the chilly winds should have weaseled their way beneath your vault suit and cooled your burning skin. Creatures mutated by the long-settled radiation were feeling the anger of the wasteland, as well, charging without warning or provocation. To top off a less than perfect week, your water supply had run out yesterday, and unless the skies opened up and released a storm of rad-infested hail upon your head, you weren't sure you would find any more before you keeled over and kicked it.
Struggling to plant your feet stable in the mounds of sand beneath you as you made your way between the shells of buildings that had once stood tall and proud, you glanced over your shoulder at your companion. Cooper was better adapted for this kind of environment than you were, what with his hardened skin and the wide brim of his hat shielding his face, but even he looked worse for wear. When he picked up his head, seeming to feel your eyes on him, you quickly averted your gaze and set your attention back on moving one foot in front of the other.
"Fuck're you lookin' at?" he said, his voice raspy as he called out through the dry air.
"Nothing," you snipped back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of facing him again. "Just wondering if I'm going to have to carry you the rest of the way, asshole."
The heat was making you both snappy - you hated it.
Your first meeting with Cooper hadn't gone smoothly. Hell, your second or third hadn't, either. You weren't exactly sure when you had fallen into a more comfortable presence around one another, but it sure as shit hadn't happened overnight. You'd been only half a day fresh from your vault when you'd seen him scavenging madly over a mess of bodies he'd dropped where they stood, searching for a number of vials kept in their pockets that he let drip into his open mouth like a fountain of youth. When you had called out a friendly hello to him, he'd nearly shot your brains out. Cooper had taken in your shocked expression - as you'd clearly never seen a ghoul before - as well as the stark blue of your vault suit and the pack over your shoulders, then promptly told you to scoot your ass back around to wherever the hell you had come from. Of course, you hadn't. You'd followed him from a distance, watching as he'd picked his way across the dusty sands until he'd wrangled you with the lasso at his hip, told you to fuck right off, and left you tied to a number of old pipes in the basement of a nearly collapsed building.
A day later, you'd tracked his footprints in the sand to a little settlement, where you hadn't ducked away quick enough to avoid his gaze. He'd threatened to blow your brains out if he caught you following him again. He'd only half-delivered on that promise when, not ten hours later, he'd planted a fist-sized hole in the skull of a raider attempting to cut your throat for the Pip-Boy affixed to your wrist.
From then on, he'd simply chosen to ignore you as you followed behind him like a lost dog, intent on staying with the biggest, baddest wolf in the yard. After a week, he'd tossed you a part of his rations. A week after that, he'd - not too gently - invited you to sit at the campfire with him when he saw you shivering beneath your thin, vault-issued blanket a good few yards away.
Somewhere along the way you'd started to talk. Started to share - at least, you had. Cooper had simply tucked his hat over his eyes and pretended not to listen while you rattled about this and that until he physically couldn't take it anymore and told you to go the fuck to sleep.
These months later, having accompanied him all this time, you didn't hesitate to call him a friend. Maybe something more, if you let the ache between your legs when you looked at him speak for you, but you knew it was a fantasy and nothing more, so you decided to stick with 'friend.'
Back in the present, you swallowed and winced when your throat barked with a bout of pain in response. You didn't think you'd make it another mile, let alone five, which was how far Cooper claimed the nearest town was. Despite the months you'd spent adapting out here to the wastelands, you were still attempting to cope with the hardships that came with it. Vault life wasn't anything like this; there was always water to drink, beds to sleep in. Cool air to bask in when it got just the slightest bit too hot. Of course, you didn't voice these complains to your companion. If you did, you had no doubt he'd tell you to shut the fuck up and deal with it.
Just as you were about to ask if you could take a short break and get away from the harsh sun beating on your back like repeated blows from a red-hot hammer, a gloved hand wrapped around your arm and held you in place. You jerked to a stop, nearly falling back on your ass as Cooper held you where you stood. You prepared a strongly-worded question as to just what he was doing before you followed his gaze downward, to where a small handful of pairs of footprints traveled perpendicular to yours. Together, you tilted your heads to the left where the foreign prints were headed, and it was there you found a small slope leading downward into what may have once been a shopping mall. From where you stood, you were able to see that the glass dome around the center of the mall had been shattered, letting out the gentle sound of music and human hollers.
You exchanged a look with Cooper, each of you sunken from the iron-fisted heat weighing you down, then slid down the sandy slope after him when he took off toward the shopping mall.
If there was one thing you had learned about Cooper since planting yourself at his side and refusing to leave, it was that he valued silence above almost everything else. You, on the other hand, had come from a talkative vault, where gossip reached every end of every chamber only an hour - at max - after anything noteworthy had happened. Your companion had once called you the biggest yap he'd ever heard, and you would have taken it for a compliment had he not told you to shove it a moment after. The two of you had been silent nearly the entire day now, save for a few venomous barks at each other, and you cleared your scratchy throat in an attempt to lighten your shitty moods.
"I used to read about shopping malls in the magazines," you said, leaning your weight backwards as the sandy slope shifted downward. "They had all kinds of stores inside."
"Thanks for the reminder," Cooper bit back, quickening his stride. "Would have fuckin' forgot without you here."
You let your eyes roll into the back of your head as you struggled to catch up to him, your boots digging into the uneven earth beneath you. "When I was a kid, a few of my friends and I would draw pictures of clothes - because, you know, we only had our suits - and then spread them across one of our rooms and pretend to shop. It was stupid, but it we made entertainment where we could."
"Now, was this before you started pretending to be Billie Holliday?"
You gave him a sideways glance. "Who's that?"
Cooper shook his head and took off ahead of you. "Jesus fuckin' Christ."
During one of your, as your companion called them, yap sessions, you had confided in him that your vault valued the arts above anything else. Since you were a child, they had encouraged you to find something you enjoyed, as long as you were able to call yourself an artist. Painting hadn't worked out too well. Writing had been a bust. But then you'd discovered singing - a way in which you were able to express yourself without actually saying how you felt. You could drape the tunes in metaphors and similes, bump the second verse from the first, and when you were done, everyone would get to their feet to applaud as if your songs were the best things they'd ever heard. Cooper hadn't expressed much interest in this, instead taking to calling you a songbird with her wings clipped when he deemed you were at your lowest and needed to be kicked while you were down.
Of course, you hadn't shown him - you would have to be long dead for that - but over the course of the few months you'd known him, you had confided in your notebook carried in your pack all the little things you'd come up with that complimented his persona. How the gold at his heels called for you with each step he took. The way his hands, encased behind leather that creaked, held a smoke so delicately you could have imagined it was you. The rasping curl of his words when he smiled while he spoke and how each word cast a spell that made you want to follow him until the sun exploded and the earth was gone.
Cooper was an enigma you couldn't help but wonder after, and every scrap of himself he tossed to you led you on like a dog on a leash.
The music and echoing sound of laughter from deep inside the shopping mall became louder as the pair of you approached, eyes scanning for snipers on the roof or guards posted at the busted-out windows. There wasn't a person in sight, only mannequins stripped of their clothing hanging out the openings and long-shredded posters clinging to broken glass. Cooper led the way inside, picking a path across the wreckage and rubble stacked haphazardly against the entrance. You felt your pulse tick up when he produced his gun from the worn holster at his side, tapping his trigger finger against the side of the firearm in time with the music winding its way down the wide corridors.
As you followed your companion through the shopping mall, you couldn't help but ogle at the numerous attractions you passed. Shops had been boarded up and torn open again, giving you a glimpse of tattered clothes still on hangers, books tipped over on shelves, pre-war machines behind display cases that were covered in two hundred years' worth of dirt and grime. Gang signs and dirty catchphrases had been spraypainted along the walls and windows in a rainbow of colors. In the center of the long aisle you were wandering, a carousel meant for children sat neglected, still fitted with cartoonish horses who had seen better days than these.
"Did you used to come to these often?" you asked as you stepped across a mannequin missing its head.
"Shut the fuck up for a minute." Cooper raised a hand to pair with his little spat, silencing you from asking any further questions. His tongue darted out between his cracked lips as he placed his steps carefully around shattered glass and wind-up toys that would declare your position to the entire mall. He led you around a few wide corners before coming to a stop behind an old escalator, motioning for you to take cover. You crouched to peer around the other side, pulling your bag strap tighter over your shoulder. You were met with a sight that made your lips part in wonder.
Made up in the center of the mall's large atrium, directly beneath where the glass dome had been broken out, a small encampment of people had established what looked like a tiny town. Tents rested just inside nearby shop windows and winking Christmas lights had been strung above their heads. Lanterns cast shadows along the faces of the camp's locals as they milled back and forth, sharing dinners, reading from books - and dancing. Booming from a solar-powered stereo was a symphony of fiddles and guitars, harmonies of trumpets and clapping in time with the beat. A woman's tinny voice came through the speakers and she reminisced about an old lover who had gotten away. As you watched the people dance and stamp their feet along with the music, you found yourself drumming your fingers along, as well.
You were so engrossed in the music that you nearly missed what Cooper had his watchful eye on; the fridge-sized container with several spigots on its sides marked with a large piece of paper that read 'Clean Water.'
You and Cooper ducked back behind the escalator.
"Bunch of fuckin' idiots," said Cooper as he pulled a red-capped round from his bandolier and loaded it into his gun's chamber. "That shit'll attract every goddamn raider and feral within the mile."
"They're just having fun," you said, unsure of why you felt so defensive of these people you didn't even know. Maybe it was because they reminded you of your fellow vault dwellers back home. There had been a dance or performance like this nearly every night.
Cooper scoffed. "Fun like this gets you killed, little lady."
Your eyes widened as you watched him pull back the hammer of his firearm. "You're not going to just go up there and start shooting, are you?" You knew for a fact that he would. You'd seen him do it before - draw his pistol and start spinning the trigger because a raider or flock of ferals had what he wanted. But this - this was something different. Before he could do anything more, you reached out and grabbed his upper arm in a grasp so tight your knuckles paled. He flashed you a dark, dangerous look from beneath the brim of his hat, but you refused to let go. "Cooper, these people are innocent. They haven't done anything to us."
"Listen here, dollface, and listen well," he said, quickly spinning you around so that your back was pressed against the escalator. He caged you in, his gun hand still in your grasp and his other arm propped against the wall beside your head. You tried your damndest to not flush when you felt his breath on you, when his hips came just inches from pressing up against yours. "If we're goin' to be carryin' on this little arrangement, you need to learn to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut when I tell you to shut it. Now, I know you vaulties think everyone and their mama is goin' to repay that silly kindness of yours, but do not be mistaken. Keep yappin' and I will drink my fill of that there water while I make you watch, and then I'll tip the rest of it onto the floor. You hear me?"
You were at a loss for words, your tongue dry and your knees beginning to feel wobbly from the lack of water and proper rest. Just when you were about to let your eyes fall back down and accept that he was going to clear out the settlement for their water, footsteps echoed past where the two of you stood. Cooper snapped around and raised his pistol, his other arm still caging you in, and aimed down the barrel at a few young men approaching the rest of the locals beneath the glass dome. Instead of yelling, instead of dropping their belongings and begging for their lives while they pissed their pants in the presence of a ghoul, the men waved and smiled friendly grins.
"No need to hide," one said, gesturing the pair of you toward the others. "Y'all are welcome to come and make yourselves cozy. The more the merrier!"
They continued on, greeted by the other locals with shouts of welcome backs and fond hugs, paying no mind to the wide eyes and parted lips of you and your companion. Breaking away from Cooper's little cage he had created with himself and the wall - as much as it pained you to - you peeked back around the escalator. The young men pointed your way, and a number of people waved in kind and beckoned you forward. You found yourself taking a few steps toward the inviting sight of fresh water and the smell of food being cooked over one of the fires when Cooper snagged you by the back of your suit's collar and pulled you back into cover.
"Where on this good green earth you think you're goin'?" he said in a hushed tone, bringing your face close to his with a commanding grip on your jaw. Another flutter of excitement, of blood rush, bubbled to life in the pit of your stomach and began to travel south, but you suppressed the urge to lean into his touch. You didn't pull away, either.
"They invited us," you said, your eyes wandering back over to the light flickering from the lanterns and fires. "It's rude to turn down an invitation."
Cooper harrumphed and released you a little harsher than necessary. "What you've got is a one-way ticket to bein' on tomorrow's menu, sweetheart," he said, tilting his head to follow your gaze and keep eye contact when you looked away. "If you've about had your fill of the real world up here topside, then be my guest. Go and let'em fatten you up. I'll pour one out for 'ya tonight."
Deciding not to wonder if he would actually pour one out for you, if you really meant that much, you scoffed and shook your head. "You know it's okay to let your guard down every once in a while. Smile, maybe? Wave back? No wonder you're so damn bitter, old man."
Cooper stared down at you, and you wondered briefly if he was considering slamming your head into the side of the escalator. Would he drag you away with him, you thought? Or would he leave you for the strangers just around the corner. After what seemed an eternity, he hummed a short little note and nodded his head toward the camp. "You want to play friends, little lady? Go ahead. See how far that gets you before I've got to turn around and put one between the eyes of a man who's not lookin' just for the sake of lookin'."
With the faintest hint of a smile, you blinked up at him. "You'd turn around for me?" you asked in a murmur.
He matched your heated gaze, dark eyes intense and flaring a torch in your belly. "I suppose you'll just have to find out one of these days."
Swallowing thick, you took a breath, then turned and led him toward the little encampment of people. Heads turned as the pair of you approached, and you found that most of them smiled. You waved to those who offered little shakes of their hands, trailed by a ghoul stalking in his own shadow and resting the crook of his palm on his pistol. You were met by a kind-faced woman near the large tank of water, and she was forced to speak loudly to be heard over the sound of the thumping music.
"You folks just get in?" she said, already fixing two bowls of stew from a large pot simmering over a fire.
You broke yourself from the staring match you were having with the pot, the same one Cooper was still stuck in. Although, he may have been watching the chickens that roamed inside a little pen nearby as he licked his lips. "Yes, ma'am," you said over the trill of the woman's singing. You so desperately wished you knew the words so you could sing along. "I hope we're not imposing."
"Not at all!" A bowl of stew was pushed into your hands, and you forced yourself to be polite and not spoon it down your throat immediately. At your side, your companion gave the rim of the bowl a lick with the tip of his tongue before tipping it to slurp up. "We pride ourselves in being an open community. We might be small, but that just means there's more to share." The tin cups of water she handed over didn't last but five seconds before she was refilling them. "Make yourselves comfortable and stay however long you like. All we ask is that you keep your weapons holstered and don't disturb the music."
You and Cooper took seats at a dining table that had been dragged over from the cafeteria, neither of you speaking much as you both wolfed down what was in the bowls in front of you. Both of your spoons went untouched, each electing instead to drink up the strangely-colored meat floating around inside. Cooper finished much faster than you, and shucked off his gloves so that he could dip his scarred finger in to collect what juices were left. When he was finished, the bowl looked as though it hadn't even been used.
Watching him with a small smile, you let up from your own bowl and said, "I'm waiting."
"For what, exactly, little lady?"
"Your apology." You lapped up the rest of your stew before politely setting your bowl inside of his. "You wanted to -" You hesitated and glanced over your shoulder to make sure no one was too close to hear you. "You know." Then you settled a rather self-satisfied smirk over your features. "And look where we are now. So I'd like my apology now."
Cooper sucked on his finger, ensuring he was getting every last morsel of the stew that he could, and your attention was pulled down to where his lips wrapped around his digit. A part of you began to imagine it was yours. He noticed you staring and grinned wide. "And you know what I'm waitin' for, darlin'?"
"What?"
"For you to walk yourself over there and get me seconds."
You rolled your eyes, but nevertheless grabbed your stacked bowls and began to make your way over to where the woman was tending to the pot. "You'd better be thinking about your apology," you called over your shoulder. When you turned back around you nearly collided into someone retreating back to their spot with their own dinner. You jerked to the side, attempting to get out of their way first, and in doing so rammed yourself into the stereo set on a table in the center of the little camp. You watched in horror, bowls clasped to your chest, as the stereo tumbled over the edge of its pedestal and fell to the floor, where it shattered into what must have been hundreds of pieces. The camp became shrouded in a tense, shocked silence as every eye in the mall turned to face you and look upon your sin.
"I..." Your voice carried through the atrium and down the corridors of the shopping mall, sounding like an isolated cry for help. "I'm so sorry. I - I didn't mean to, I really didn't. Here, I might be able to fix it." You bent down to try and gather the pieces with your free hand, and the moment you did, a number of the camp locals drew weapons to aim in your direction.
"Now," came that familiar drawl behind you as you heard a hammer lock into place. "Are we really goin' to be killin' each other over some silly radio?" asked Cooper, and you felt some of your nerves ease slightly when you felt his chest press against your back.
A man to your right hissed. "You killed him!"
You shook your head viciously. "No, no! I - I didn't kill anyone. I'm sorry, I really am."
"You killed Sterry!" a woman accused.
"Sterry?" You looked down at the broken stereo and began to scoop up the bigger pieces you could find. "I - I can fix Sterry, I swear -"
"There's no fixing Sterry," moaned the woman who had served you stew as she sunk into the closest bench, looking as though she were about to faint. "He's dead. And you've killed us all."
You glanced back at Cooper, who wielded both his pistols now, each pointed in a different direction toward locals who had drawn their weapons. He offered a shrouded look that screamed, 'Now, didn't I tell you so, sweetheart?' You took a shuddering breath and faced the woman who had served you. "What do you mean?" you asked.
The woman placed her head in her hand as if she'd already accepted her fate. It was a daunting sight, the face of a woman so cheery and joyful such a short time ago, now deflated as though someone had let out all her air. "This place," she said, gesturing vaguely to the mall around you. "It's infested." The word was so heavy you felt as though you nearly choked on it. "Infested with creatures that will tear us limb from limb now that you've ruined everything. The music! The music was what kept them away, and now that it's gone..."
As if on cue, from the darkness of one of the long-winding corridors straight ahead, there came the bone-rattling sound of a feral hissing and snapping its weathered jaw. A few of the locals scrambled back as the creature emerged from the inky blackness, arms twisted and eyes sunken so far back into its skull they looked like they were forever pointed toward the sky. It took a rushed few steps forward before Cooper's arm rotated and he put a hole between its eyes. The feral dropped to the floor, leaking dark blood that stained the tile floor.
"Stop being so dramatic, Uma," said an older gentleman who stooped at your feet to begin gathering the pieces of Sterry. You immediately dropped to your knees to help. "We've fixed Sterry before, and we'll fix him again. It won't take long. But while we do, we'll need something to drive those creatures off..."
Your stomach dropped when, as you stood to hand over the pieces of the stereo, you felt Cooper's hands - still fitted with his pistols - rest heavily on your shoulders. "Well, then, y'all folks are in luck," he drawled, and you could practically hear the smirk playing his lips as he spoke. "I've got my very own songbird right here. I'd be happy to lend her to 'ya if, say... you filled our flasks from that there tank when the time comes for us to leave."
"Cooper," you hissed through your teeth as you spun around to face him. Singing for your vault was one thing, but singing for a bunch of strangers in the middle of an infested mall while ferals stumbled from the darkness all around you? He may as well have tossed you back out into the wastes. "You are not going to fucking trade me -"
"Done," said the old man as he sat down and began to sort Sterry's pieces. "Have your girl start singing - anything her heart desires. Just long enough for me to fix old Sterry here."
Giving the man a mock salute that didn't quite raise to his brow, Cooper shoved you onto a bench so that you stood over the rest of the camp. From this angle, they were all able to see your petrified expression and your hands shaking at your sides. "You heard the man," your companion said and smacked the back of your knee. "Get to it, songbird."
"Cooper, I can't -"
Before you were able to finish, Cooper turned, his ears pricking at something yours did not pick up, and dropped another feral that had been silently stalking the camp from the other side. A few of the locals yelped in terror, fleeing into shopfronts and tents.
"Sing for me, sweetheart," Cooper said. He sent you a wink, tipped his hat, then unleashed another round of lead into the darkness which only his eyes could penetrate.
You felt as if you were going to vomit. Sweat began to form on the back of your neck as you fisted your hands and swayed slightly where you stood on the bench. Turning your head, you met the eyes of a few camp locals watching you from their hideouts, their expressions filled with fear, anger, anticipation. They were waiting. Expecting. Needing. Attempting to push down the swelling that was beginning to form in your throat, you looked down at Cooper as he emptied his pistols of empty shells before reloading in order to fend off the ferals attacking the camp - the very camp he'd wanted to take out not half an hour ago.
He'd told you to sing for him. So you'd sing. For him, and only him.
Clearing your mouth and opening your lips, you took a breath and forced yourself to sing. "Death will come from where the earth meets the sky." Your voice wobbled slightly, rusty from having not singing since you left your vault. That, along with the fear and dehydration sitting on your tongue. "The sand is scorched beneath his step, the future decided by his eye." As you sang, the miniature explosions banging from the barrels of Cooper's pistols created a short, quick beat you unconsciously began to tap your foot along to. "He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."
Ferals shrieked in response to the gunfire, to the song torn right from your notebook in your pack, and one by one, like stage performers who had practiced this dance a hundred times, they dropped at the feet of the camp.
"Death's got a girl who croons his songs, which is why he never stays for long. He's got to run back to his lady, just as harsh as he, he's coming for you, but he's running back to me." As you sang you realized your voice was getting louder, louder, swelling until it filled the mall's atrium and every corridor far beyond. You tapped your heel along with the rhythm you'd created, closing your eyes and imagining an audience of one; a ghoul with his arms slung out across the chairs beside him and a knowing smirk playing his thin lips. It pulled you forward, pulled forth a song you hadn't realized was already in you. "He might sound mean, but I swear, he's kind. He's just got to peer into these eyes of mine. I'll ride with him, and he'll follow me, leaving behind a trail of blood far as the eye can see. Oh, my baby's got teeth to bite and a gun to blow, see his smoke and soon you'll know. Death ain't my man, he's my right hand. He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."
You had just been nearing a second verse when, from where it rested before the old man on the table, the stereo jumped back to life and filled the atrium with thrumming, pulsing folk music. It drowned out your voice, silenced you like a gunshot, and the ferals teetering on the edge of the darkness leading to the rest of the mall stumbled back into their hiding places. The camp locals slowly emerged from their hiding places, chattering excitedly about Sterry and his newfound love of life. Feeling a little stupid still standing on the bench, you climbed down and shuffled away toward where you had been originally sitting.
Taking a seat, you rested your forehead on your arms and exhaled a shaky breath. What had you been thinking? Singing a song for the man you'd become hopelessly fascinated with while he was just a few feet away, battling ferals who were intent on tearing out your throat and taking your voice with it? You were such a fucking idiot. You wouldn't be surprised if he told you to never open your mouth again.
Just as promised, your flasks were filled to the brims with fresh water before you went on your way, leaving the mall atrium and the singing, dancing camp locals behind as you picked your way back outside. Neither you nor Cooper said much as you continued your trek to nowhere, leaving a pair of footprints like echoes in your wake. Your cheeks remained flushed long after the mall had disappeared into the horizon, and long after you picked out an abandoned building to set up camp for the night. For once, it wasn't from the heat.
You sat across the lantern and what light it cast from Cooper, who stared into the little beacon as if he were watching the most fascinating flick within its glass. You held your notebook in your lap, thumb marking your place as your tried to write, but nothing would come to mind save for the things you'd sung about today. Mortification stirred like a serpent in your belly, and you briefly considered excusing yourself to get up and throw up outside.
"Let me see that book you've got there."
Your head lifted at Cooper's request - more of a demand - and unconsciously tightened your grip around your notebook. Your notebook - full of songs, melodies, lyrics. The most recent half of which you had written about the ghoul staring at you. "This?" you said, your trembling voice giving way to your nerves. You forced out a chuckle and smacked it shut. "It's nothing worth looking at."
"Why not?" he said, voice rasping lower than the baritone he usually held it at. You swore his gaze was hotter than the sun during the day and the fires at night. "You got more songs 'bout little old me in there?"
Fuck, he knew. Fuck all, he knew. You felt your flush deepen as you pointedly tucked your notebook into the bottom of your pack and flipped the top shut. "I... I don't know what you're talking about," you said, avoiding his eyes. Instead you focused on the fraying tip of your boot. "I wrote that a long time ago. Back in my vault."
"Uh huh." Cooper stared you down for so long you thought that perhaps time had frozen. Then he took a barely-there breath. "Come over here, songbird. Let me get a good look at you."
For a long, long moment, you remained still as you ever had been. What was he saying? Normally the only time he let you close to him was when he invaded your personal space to deliver a shove or to smack your knee or thigh to tell you to get a move on. Your breath hitched when you finally lifted your head and found his gaze boring into yours, heavier than a ton and white hot like a branding iron.
"I ain't goin' to tell you again, pretty girl."
As if he had you on a fucking leash - because you swore he did - you found yourself pitching forward, crawling on your hands and knees toward him. He spread his legs slightly, enough to give you room to fit between them, and hesitantly, so very carefully, you rested yourself against his front. His rough, scarred hands, free of his gloves, came up to rest on the swell of your hips as if they were made to be there, fitting like puzzle pieces against your skin beneath your vault suit. You stared up at him, backlit by the lantern light, and let his thumb drag down your bottom lip until it slipped from his touch.
"Didn't think my songbird had such desire in her," Cooper chuckled, his warm breath fanning across your face.
You relished in the goosebumps that crawled over the planes of your skin. "I... I don't..."
"Oh, you'd be dead wrong if you said that little ditty you sang today wasn't all about desire." He settled back deeper where he sat, giving you more room to settle against him between the columns of his thighs. Your lower belly rested against his crotch, where you felt the hard outline of his cock straining against his trousers. Your heart skipped a beat or three. "If you wanted to ride with death, sweetheart, all you needed to do was ask."
Cooper sealed his lips to yours without word or warning, pulling a surprised little noise from the back of your throat that he swallowed up with fervor. As the initial shock faded, you found your eyes slipping shut and your mouth moving against his, lips opening without fight when his tongue demanded to explore your own. Bracing yourself with one hand against his thigh, you reached up with your other and cradled the back of his head, knocking off his hat in the process.
Swift to get a move on, to feel you against him and swallow up more of your sounds, Cooper easily flipped you around so that you were now lying flat on your back and he was hovering over your prone form. Both tingling excitement and nauseating nerves pulled groans from your lips as he moved to pressing harsh kisses and nips to the column of your neck, licking up red spots that would surely bruise come morning time. He shucked off his duster and abandoned it somewhere behind him, at the same time, by some skill you had no idea anyone possessed, also grasping at the zipper of your vault suit to pull it down as far as it would go.
It didn't take long for you to shimmy out of the suit, leaving you in just your underwear, the seams of which he traced with his calloused finger. It sent a chill running up your spine despite the heat prodding at your skin.
"My songbird sounds real pretty when she's singin'," Cooper muttered as he sucked a bruise into the swell of one breast over the cup of your bra. "I bet she sounds even better screamin' for me."
His hand plunged beneath the waistband of your panties and began to explore your folds, pulling a long, whining moan from your lips. He ate you and your whimpers up, devouring your lips like he wanted to eat you whole - maybe he did - while his middle finger ran up and down your cunt a few times before deftly finding your clit and applying a bit of pressure to the sensitive bud. You cried out. It had been far too long since you'd seen any real action. It didn't take long before your folds were soaked, and he was able to gingerly nudge his finger past the entrance of your pussy. It felt foreign to have another person thrusting their finger in and out of you, building you up to a kind of high you hadn't known since far before you left your vault. In less than a few minutes - something he would surely tease you about later - you felt that familiar coil snap in your stomach and you soaked his hand with a loud, throat-rattling wail that escaped your lips and flew right past his.
Cooper pulled back with a self-satisfied smirk and pulled his hand from your panties, lifting his spread hand to show you to slick you'd coated his digits with. You were only able to huff for breath and watch with hooded eyes as he brought his fingers to his mouth and used his skillful tongue to lick off your cum. You briefly wondered what else that tongue of his could do, what it would feel like to have him lap up your pussy like it was the only thing to guarantee him his daily hit of medicine.
"Sweet as honey, baby," he cooed, bracing himself with one hand while the other worked on the buckle of his belt. "Well. Maybe Tennessee honey. You ever had a taste of that?" He knew you hadn't. But that didn't stop his smirk from growing in size when you numbly shook your head. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, baby. We'll get you a lick one day. 'Til then..."
Your limbs dancing with pins and needles, you lifted your hips to help him tug off your panties. "I'll just have to settle for what I've got," you exhaled with a hazy smile.
Cooper grinned wide, a smile that bordered on the edge of dark, as he tugged down his trousers just enough for his cock to spring free. He was thick - larger than you'd expected - and his member was rough and scarred like the rest of him. It made you want to feel him all the more. "I'll promise you somethin', darlin," he said as he positioned himself at your entrance and you locked your legs around his waist, heels digging into the edge of his gun belt. "I'm better than anything else you'll taste these days." With that he slid into you, filling you at once to the brim like he just couldn't wait to feel you from the inside. A loud, sharp yelp escaped your lips as your back arched instinctively, curling yourself up into him. He only waited a few moments for you to adjust before he started moving, pulling himself out to the tip before thrusting back inside your welcoming cunt. You were able to feel each and every ridge of him, every scar, and you swore you were getting drunk from just the feeling.
"Fuckin' shit, girl," he groaned, moving to press the flat of his hand to the base of your neck so that he could keep you in place while he fucked you. "Better than I could've fuckin' dreamed."
Cooper's thrusts began to increase in speed, your moans and whimpers accompanied by his low, almost growling snarls he panted against the shell of your ear. You couldn't believe this was happening. You were being fucked by the ghoul you'd been following all these months, the ghoul you'd been watching and studying and falling hopelessly for. And it felt good. It felt so fucking good, a part of you wasn't entirely convinced this entire scenario wasn't a dream concocted by the recesses of your mind.
"God, Coop," you heard yourself moan as your nails dug crescent moons into the fabric of his shirt. "Feels so fucking good..."
"Atta girl," he muttered, moving his head down so that he could suck at the junction where your neck met your shoulder. "Such a sweet little songbird." His grip on your hips tightened as his movements increased even further. "Might just have to fuck you good every night so I can hear you sing for me."
You panted deep as you felt your second orgasm of the night approaching at an alarming rate. Your hips bucked up to meet his with each thrust, the sound of skin on skin filling the abandoned building in which you had taken shelter. "Don't have to - ah! - even ask. I'll sing for you any time, Coop."
Cooper's breaths came shorter, sharper, and it wasn't long before he came with a harsh bite against your shoulder, one that spilled blood into his awaiting mouth and pulled your own orgasm from deep within your depths. You shuddered and cried for him, tugging him close and holding him there for several minutes after your highs had faded and your breaths evened.
Finally, he pulled himself off of you. A short whine escaped you when he slipped from your heat, and he chuckled low before tossing you your panties to slip back on. When you were both covered again, you sat up and crossed your legs as you basked in the afterglow of what had just taken place. Cooper dug around in his saddlebag for a moment before producing his inhaler and drinking up a shot of his medicine, shaking his head against the sudden buzz that came with it as he sat back on his elbows and stared at the lantern light.
"I..." You struggled to find the words so desperately clawing at your chest. "I hope you don't..."
Cooper reached up and pulled your wrist out from under you, causing you to fall back on the ground beside him with an 'umph.' He let his arm cushion your fall before sweeping a few strands of hair from your face and giving you that crooked smirk which made your legs fall numb all over again. "Oh, don't you worry yourself, songbird," he said. "I ain't lettin' you fly away from me any time soon."
actually dying for a cooper howard x vaultie!reader smut where they have some slow burn longing steaminess, but coop thinks she’s too good for him UNTIL she comes in contact with a sex pollen-esque chem and he finally gives in to save her 🥵 please work your magic and elaborate however you want
A Flame in Your Heart
Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)
CW: NSFW like absolutely filthy y’all, you’ve been warned. 💀 unprotected sex, irradiated cream pie, p in v, p0rn w/ plot, slow burn, flirting, cursing, perverted thoughts, dub-con (because of chem usage though consent is asked and given!) rough sex, dirty talk, choking, praise kink, degradation, squirting, mention of fingering, FEELINGS!! Slight deviation from TV series, possible grammar/spelling mistakes, cooper starts off mean but slowly warms up to reader
AN: I absolutely LOVED this request! I was up all night writing down all my ideas and spent all this morning perfecting it, and this has to be my longest one yet! I thank you for your patience anon and my lovely readers as I finally post this! Hope you enjoy and that I have done your ask justice! ❤️
Life outside of the vault was difficult to say the least. You felt hunger and dehydration in ways you’d never experienced before, going out of your way to do desperate things you would normally never do in order to get said food and water. The heat was unbearable, every stretch of land you walked across had a danger lurking around every corner, and worst of all, you’d never felt so alone. You weren’t sure what it was about you, maybe it was because you were new to the surface, maybe it was your nearly perfect skin, but everyone seemed to stare or glare at you when you would walk through. It wasn’t until you’d passed through Filly, meeting Ma June that you realized people didn’t take kindly to people like you. “Vaulties” she called them, an audible disdain in her tone, making you look down to remember you were in your blue and gold Vault-Tec suit. “I’ll be going then, have a nice day!” You said skiddishly, offering her a kind smile before turning and exiting the shop. You just wanted to make friends, why was that so hard up here? So when your eyes set on a man clad in classic Wild West cowboy clothes, watching smoke settle after a stand off, you weren’t sure why but you knew that was who you needed on your side in this world. Before you knew it, your feet were already moving and mouth speaking to him, grabbing his attention.
“I ain’t no charity case sweetheart, I don’t take on strays” The ghoul spoke, his southern drawl making him even more memorable than the marred texture of his skin. You looked to the dog that trailed not far behind him as he walked, changing its pace to keep up with the man. “The dog there with you tells me otherwise” you quipped. “Ain’t my dog” he responded harshly as he continued walking. “I can make it worth your while!” You yelled, making him stop in his tracks for a moment, a scary sight at first before you worked up the nerve to come closer once he turned back to you. “And how you suppose you’d do that?” He asked, and at first you didn’t know what to say, the words leaving your mouth before you could really think of a good enough reason. Did nobody like company anymore these days? “Well…I can be your scavenger! Pretty good at collecting stuff” you offered, shaking your bag and making things rattle around inside to prove it, making him give a huff of a chuckle. “‘f I wanted a pack mule I’d‘ve found a brahman” he shot you down. “Okay, then I can be good company to talk to!” You offered. “They make radios for when I want to listen to someone yack” he shut down once again. “I’m a good cook! Even with shitty supplies, I can make a stew that’d put a smile even on the meanest son of a gun’s face” you said, hopeful that he’d at least take you for something, but you had a feeling he’d probably turn you down again. “Iguana on a stick’s just fine” he said, though he had to admit the stew sounded good. Reminded him of home before all this wasteland bullshit. “Oh, umm…” you said awkwardly, your tone growing quiet and my how it put a sad look in your eyes. The evil part of him liked it, seeing your sweet innocent face all downturned but the part that was still human deep down, the part that hardly ever saw the light of day anymore, had half a mind to let you.
“Got a lotta nerve walkin’ up t’ me, girly. If you somehow been lucky enough that you ain’t met dangerous yet, you’re lookin’ at someone who could put you down before you’d even mutter your last words” he threatened, motioning to the double barreled shotgun in his hands. “I know, I saw it first hand. You hold yourself well, I envy that. I’m new to all of this and just really want someone who can help me hold my own the same way” you explained. “Look, I know I don’t look like much but please just give me a chance” you begged, looking up at him with a fighting spirit in your eyes that he had to admit, he was pretty impressed in seeing in a vaultie. “You help me, I help you, however that ends up being” you offered, standing strong on this and damn if he didn’t see a little bit of himself in you at that. He gave a sigh, tilting his head down before shaking it, not believing himself for the words he was about to say. “Alright, but the minute you start draggin’ you’re out, got me?” He said, and he hated the way his cold heart seemed to pump a little faster upon seeing your eyes light up with joy and a smile stretch to your face. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” You said, opening your arms up to hug him but being met with the barrel of his gun poking your stomach to keep space between you. “I don’t do hugs” he spoke gruffly, making you back up enough to where he’d drop the gun back to his side. “R-Right…sorry” you apologized, embarrassment washing over you but still glad to finally have someone in your company. “C’mon, I ain’t got all day now” he said, motioning you to start walking, so you joined him.
Your travels with him certainly weren’t at all what you were expecting them to be. From being used as bait, to being tied up with rope most of the time you’d traveled together, or being sent in as his scavenger, you weren’t prepared for a lot of the reality you faced with being up on the surface. Most nights made you question why you’d ever left the comfort of the vault, why you’d abandoned a trusty food supply, regulated temperatures, a safe place to sleep that wasn’t riddled with radroaches or had the likely hood of waking up to a raider with a knife at your throat for no reason. Then you would remember the experiment in your vault, why you left that awful place for arguably a worse reality on the surface but at least you had freedom. Out here you were free to say what you want, do what you want, consume what you want so long as you could defend yourself incase that supply wasn’t unclaimed. You’d gotten pretty handy with a gun in the most recent weeks. Cooper, you learned one night was his name, using empty glass bottles as targets to help teach you accuracy and how to hit things from a longer range. In exchange, you came a little more useful than he had first thought. You had some useful stuff on you for trade like chems, ammo and food, were a good extra bag to hold stuff in, and you were a better cook than you’d talked about. Sure you had a tendency to talk too much, and you weren’t great with a gun, but you were getting there.
“Might I suggest takin’ them clothes instead of wearin’ that suit?” He said, making you look at him weird for suggesting you strip a dead raider of their clothes. “Why would I do that…?” You asked, genuinely confused and not sure what he was implying either, he was a hard man to predict. “Because, people see that shit and get real mad. People up here don’t like vaulties or the ones that run ‘em” he said and it made sense, it helped you understand why you kept getting evil glares each time someone would look at you or talk to you. You figured he knew best, so you took the shirt and pants from one of the female raiders, tucking them into your bag to change into at a better time. He gave a chuckle watching you do so, apologizing to the dead body profusely as you took their clothes and whatever valuables they had on them for the betterment of your own survival. You were still so naive, part of him was hoping he could slowly start to break and corrupt your way of thinking, but that was a thought for another time.
Before you knew it, night finally began to fall. The sun setting across the horizon gave the air less of a hot, harsh bite as the temperature began to cool rapidly across the sands of the Mojave. All you managed to grab was a pair of beat up, old jeans and a tank top, so as soon as the sun set, the chill set in. As you both set up camp for the night just outside of an abandoned rest stop, you started a fire to cook some of that stew you talked about being good at. He had to admit, it was pretty damn good, likely the best thing he’s had since before the bombs went off. Though even the kindling fire couldn’t manage to chase the chill away, watching you run your hands up and down your arms to try and warm up some by it. He felt a slight pang in his heart, watching you shiver like that, how your eyes lit up by the blaze of the fire and your hair seemed to be tousled just right. You were pretty, too pretty to be trekking this wasteland, and certainly too pretty to be trekking it with him of all people as your company. Even he had a heart still, as cold as it was, so out of kindness he shrugged his duster from his shoulders, draping it around you. You looked at the fabric pooled around you, pulling it over you better before looking to him as he sat down across from you again. “Ain’t no use if the cold gets ya” he said, making you smile appreciatively at him as you realized what he did. “Thank you” you replied, a slight blush fanning to your cheeks as the chattering of your teeth finally died down and you grew warmer. It smelled like him, sure it had splatters of old dried blood and was rather worn, but it had that gunpowder and smoke smell to it that you associated with him. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya” he replied, trying to sound cold but it didn’t come off that way, making you chuckle. “What do I owe you?” You asked, making him fall silent for a moment as he pondered the answer to your question. He looked you over for a second before tipping his hat down to cover his face a bit, the signal that he was about to try and get some sleep. “Just keep watch for a bit, I’ll be up in a few hours” he responded, and while it wasn’t what you were expecting, you’d take it.
He was startled awake a couple hours later when he heard a commotion, you yelling at someone telling them to back off that this place had been claimed. The raider you were up against didn’t seem to like that very much, claiming that wasn’t how it worked up here. The altercation took a turn for the worst when the man reached for his gun but you were quick to fire and kill him before he could let out a shot. A shaky feeling set in your hands and a horrified expression across your face at the realization that you just killed someone. Cooper, who was certainly wide awake now, was rather impressed by your quick timing and precision, coming up behind you to lay a gloved hand to your shoulder. “Well would ya look at that, looks like them lessons been payin’ off after all. How’s it feel?” He asked, looking down at you as you stared at the gun in your hands. “He was yelling at me but…he was aiming at you. I don’t really know what came over me, I didn’t like that he was going to shoot you so I just…I killed him” you said, recounting the encounter to him as if he hadn’t seen it himself. He didn’t really know what to think in that moment as you explained how your mind worked, he was proud for sure at your show of improvement with a gun, yet also touched at the same time. No one ever really looked out for him since he started his bounty hunting, he was a well hated man by many but you defended him without really any reason to. You’d just learned his name not but two weeks ago, and before that he was dragging you around with rope yet you still defended him, had you two really gotten closer in the time that’s passed since? He wasn’t sure, but it was something he could mull over while you were sleeping. “Get some rest vaultie, sun’ll be up soon” he said, knowing you likely wouldn’t get much sleep with the adrenaline still coursing through you, but it was at least worth a try, you two had a long day ahead of you.
When you woke up that next morning, things felt a little different between you two. You weren’t some annoying little dog following him anymore, you were an equal. He no longer looked at you and treated you like you were lower than him as you both set out across the wastelands, he had respect for you. Hell, he even started talking with you now when you were out traveling which was almost unbelievable. You learned through those conversations that he used to be an actor in Wild West themed films, explaining his outfit, and that he was married before the bombs dropped. You of course told him bits and pieces about yourself in exchange, after all it only felt fair but it was also nice to just finally talk to someone after all this time.
When night time fell again you two sat enjoying a meal by the fire together, only rather than across from each other, he sat next to you, making a blush come to your face as you’d smiled sweetly at him. “Glad to know I don’t have germs anymore” you said jokingly, making him chuckle. “Give an old man some credit. It ain’t exactly all peaches and marmalade out here darlin’, even cute can be deadly” he said, the nickname and him calling you cute sending a deeper blush to your cheeks despite knowing it’s just how he spoke. Whether it was the lack of contact with other people for so long, or just his charm you couldn’t quite tell, but it always seemed to have an effect on you. “Just teasin’ you, I get it. I’d tie me up and use me for bait too if I’d been doing this as long as you have. It’s a shit hole out here” you said, making him look at you as you dropped the first curse word he’s ever heard from you. “Well I’ll be damned, either I’m a bad influence or you’re finally growin’ outta that naive shell there, vaultie” Cooper replied, making you laugh as you saw a smirk stretch to his thin, marred lips, the first one you’d seen in a while that wasn’t brought on by drugs, chems or that first sip of a good bottle of alcohol. “Probably both” you quipped, making him chuckle. “Yeah, probably. Been told I ain’t easy to stomach” he said, making you hum. “You’re alright in my book, Coop” you replied with a sweet, genuine smile that matched your tone and was that butterflies you felt in your stomach? Did you just call him Coop? No ones called him that in ages, why did it make his heart start to flutter a bit? “You ain’t so bad yourself, vaultie” he responded, still affording you that small smile before turning back to his food. “Keep making food this good and I just might have to keep you around” he joked, making you giggle and break the slightly tense silence. “It’s not much but I certainly try. I’ll definitely make sure to stay good at it, I like traveling with you” you said, unintentionally coming off flirtatious and fuck there it goes again, that feeling in his chest and his stomach like he needed to hit his inhaler but he felt great. What were you doing to him?
“Hey, if it isn’t too much can I ask you a sort of…personal question?” You asked, holding the beat up bowl in your hands as you looked over at him. This was normally the part where he would say no, absolutely not, he wasn’t here to be questioned on his personal matters. Yet, with you, it was different. Ever since last night he hasn’t been so on edge with you, it was like he’d warmed up to you. “Depends on what you’re askin’ there, sweetheart” he said, the nickname once again making you blush. “Do you…miss them? Your wife and daughter?” You asked, not sure if it was a good subject or good question to ask but after finding out, you were genuinely curious. He looked down at his bowl again, thinking of the proper response to your question. The old him would have been defensive, told you it was none of your business, but now? He wasn’t sure. “Ain’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about ‘em. About the way I ran out on ‘em when them bombs dropped” he answered, making you give him a sad look as genuine guilt filled his tone. This was the most honest and open he’s been with you this whole time. “I feel guilty. Not sure if I feel guilty for runnin’ out and leavin’ ‘em behind or guilty for the way I ran out, been tryin’ t’ figure that out for quite a while now and I still ain’t sure” he added, and you sympathized with that. Everyone has regrets, things they’ve done in the past that they aren’t proud of, people up here were no different in that aspect. “Well, in the short time I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve come to understand that everything you do has a valid reason behind it. So even if you feel it was a shitty thing to do, you obviously had a reason for doing so. No one can blame you for trusting your gut, and I don’t think you should blame yourself for doing so” you responded, your hand falling to his as a comforting gesture, your words ringing in his head almost as if you’d opened something in his mind, something he’d never really gave himself to think about before. He looked down at your hand that rested on his, noticing the way you didn’t flinch away from him like others did, the way you were brave enough to walk up to him, talk to him, *trust* him when he made it very clear that you shouldn’t. It was smaller than his, softer for sure, but warm all the same, then he looked up to see that caring look in your eyes and smile on your face that told him that you cared. “Guess you’re right, still wonder sometimes if it was the right choice to make” he replied. “I understand. Everyone has regrets, we all look at the past and hold at least something that we’ve done before in regret, it’s what makes us human” you said, making him give a huff as a chuckle. “You got anybody?” He asked, making you look down as you moved your feet along the dirt. “An ex-husband, but not anyone I really care about, no. My parents passed a few years before the bombings and he and I split up when I caught him cheating on me with some other woman in the vault..” you explained, not sure why it hurt you to tell the tale still, but you felt it was only fair considering what you’d asked of him to share. “Sorry t’ hear that” Cooper said, making you chuckle weakly, a somber look coming to your face that made his heart wrench. “I haven’t exactly been in love since, and considering he and I split up just a little over ten years ago, really says something I guess, huh?” You asked, trying to laugh to bring up the mood, knowing you sounded pathetic. “He was the fool, not you darlin’. He was the one skippin’ out on one hell of a woman” Cooper said, making you look to him and blush a bit as you gave a chuckle at his response.
“Thanks” you replied appreciatively and with a smile before casting your gaze down to see your hands were still connected and it left you blushing harder with embarrassment, you’d been holding his hand this entire time without realizing it. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable if I have I-“ “relax vaultie” he cut you off, pushing your hand back down onto his to assure you that he was far from uncomfortable. “It’s…rather nice actually” he admitted, making you feel relieved but your heart fluttered in your chest from it. A thick tension soon began to set in between you both after that night, something of an unspoken, kindling romance beginning to develop. “Then there it can stay” you said, making him smile softly at you, tipping his hat at you as a silent thank you.
Months passed on like this, where you’d spend the days scavenging, picking the land for its resources you could find and hunting bounties by day, then spending your nights by a fire growing closer and closer with every passing day. Through your shared meals, jokes, deep conversations, and plenty of near death experiences, you started to notice your fondness of the ghoul you traveled with. The way you’d hang onto his words with that southern accent that seemed to pull at your heart strings, or the way you’d go out of your way to stand between him and a stray bullet. You’d helped him on more than one occasion in getting out of a sticky spot, or getting him the stuff he needed to keep from turning feral. In return, he started to notice he was feeling the same towards you. There was this sudden need to keep you safe, to do nicer things for you, to speak better towards you, even flirt with you at times. Some nights there’d be so much tension in the air, it’s a miracle you haven’t jumped each other yet. Though in his eyes, as much as his heart yearned for you, he knew you were too good for him. You’d been hurt before, and he had a reputation for hurting people, feeling undeserving of even just the sweet smiles and company you afford him even now. You didn’t need someone like him, you needed a good man, someone who didn’t kill for a living, someone who could treat you right, someone who didn’t look the way he did. You were soft and warm, he was rough and cold, though he supposed that’s where the term “opposites attract” came from. So even when he was a whole bottle deep, he was sure to hold his tongue to a certain point.
Some of those nights around the fire were spent sober, others not so much, and this night happened to be one of those nights spent under the influence. You two had stumbled across a mini-mart, doing your best to out run the radstorm that had been trailing you guys for hours, coming in just to find whatever supplies you could to make it through the next week and possibly hunker down for the night. So imagine your surprise when you seemed to have found the largest chem stache you’d both ever laid eyes on. “Coop! Come here, you gotta see this” you said, making him run towards you to make sure you weren’t hurt or in trouble. His nerves were eased once he saw you, fully intact. “Tell me I’m not seeing shit” you said, pointing to all of the supplies sitting in a box on the table, joined by other supplies around it. You both looked at each other in complete and utter disbelief, this would keep you stocked for months, maybe even a whole year if you conserved it well. “Well ain’t that just the prettiest fuckin’ sight” he said. There was no way a horde of chems this large and this valuable was just completely unprotected you reasoned, so you routed around the place, scoping out for any raiders, straggling traders or ferals who happened to still be around. It was as if heaven was shining down on you both as you found no one around, seemed like no one had been here for days. So you did the most logical thing anyone would do in this situation. Stuff each of your bags to the brim of drugs of all varieties! Seeing as you had food, chems and even some clean water and alcohol lying around, Cooper locked and barricaded the door shut, proposing it could be a good spot to sleep for the night. With a radstorm approaching, it was best to have a roof over your heads to keep out the rain and potential radiation sickness that came with it. “This is the closest fuckin’ thing to a slice of heaven I’ve seen in ages” he said, aside from you is what played in his mind but he couldn’t speak that out loud, no matter how much he wanted to. “You said it!” you replied, and it’s even better with you here you thought, but thought it best to keep it to yourself. He plopped down on the couch, kicking his feet up to rest on the small table that seemed to be in shambles, enjoying a tape that was playing on the TV that he was surprised to still see functioning. “Holy shit, this thing still works?” You asked, amazed to see working technology out in the wastelands, sitting next to him as you watched it with him. He gave a smirk at your reaction, thinking it was cute the way your eyes would light up when you got all excited over something. Deep down it made him want to give you everything you laid eyes on like that just to see it pointed towards him. “Guess so” he replied, enjoying your excitement only to see you turn and look his way, which was his signal to stop staring holes into you before he gets caught. “I dunno about you baby doll, but I ain’t about to spend tonight sober with this stache sittin’ here ‘n front of us” he said, making you laugh as he routed through all the different drugs and chems til he found what he was looking for.
In the process of searching through it all, a small metal box fell to the floor at your feet. It looked like a box of mentats only the design was different, instead of the characteristic green and white box was a red one covered with hearts labeled DN-Chem. You supposed the worst that could happen was turn into the man sitting next to you, which you figured wasn’t the worst fate to succumb to all things considered, so you went against all better judgement and said fuck it, popping two of the mentat like chems and chasing it with the vodka he’d found to wait for it to take effect. “The hell is DN?” He asked, looking at the box, wondering what it was you took. “Don’t know, guess we’ll find out here soon because I took two” you said, taking another sip from the bottle of vodka he passed your way, and he gave a chuckle as you handed it back to him. “You come a mighty long way, little lady” he commented before setting the metal pill box down. He took the bottle from you, taking a swig, then placing one of the small viles into his inhaler before taking a hit of it then lying back, breathing a sigh of relief as it and the alcohol entered his system like the perfect remedy to any ailment. As about a half an hour rolled by, you waited for the high to set in but it never came, instead you were just getting hot, like really hot. There weren’t any windows open, and it was night time so you shouldn’t be this uncomfortably hot for how it was but you felt like you were on fire. “Shit, it’s hot as hell in here…” you complained, shaking off your jacket that you’d picked off of some raider a few weeks back, making him look to you curiously. “Lightweight” he quipped, making you chuckle. “Accept I don’t feel anything, I just feel hot” you said, making him hum with intrigue before turning back to the TV. “Give it some time, you’re new to all this. ‘m sure your body is wonderin’ what the hell you just put in it” he said, and he had a good point, maybe it was just a side effect of not doing them so often compared to his every day use.
As time went on, you began to notice the way your eyes couldn’t help but be glued to him, more specifically glued to the way his legs were now spread as he sat back. You wondered to yourself what he looked like beneath all that cowboy get up, what his reaction would be like to see you getting on your knees for him and slotting yourself between his spread legs. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of such inappropriate thoughts, but what you couldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried was the feeling of arousal beginning to pool in your panties. Sure he flirted with you every now and again, but you doubt he felt towards you the same way you did for him. To him you were sure you were likely more akin to a pet than a friend, useful and nice to have around, but not anything further. At least so you thought. You’d rather hoped you were wrong in assuming so, that maybe he saw you the same way you saw him. You bit your lip as you tried bouncing your leg to relieve the ache between your thighs, a light pink dusting your face and neck even up to the tips of your ears, but nothing worked. Even as you closed your eyes, all you could picture was you laid out on the couch beneath him, or bent over it with him behind you, or you riding him on it. “Been awful quiet. You doin’ alright over there, sweetheart?” Cooper asked you, and the audible whimper you let out from the nickname left you completely embarrassed. You clasped a hand over your mouth, god you were horrified but he gave a grin and a chuckle in response. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me all the sudden. I feel so…weird?” you said, unsure if that was really the proper word to explain it but it was the only way you could really word it off the top of your head with how much your brain felt as if it was turning to mush. “Ya took some chems, it’s gonna feel a bit fuzzy” he said, trying to assure you that feeling a little funny was normal, but this? This didn’t feel normal, not even for a chem high. You tried your best to swallow harshly, doing everything you could to try and relieve the dry ache you felt in your throat at the moment upon looking at him. You grabbed the bottle of vodka, taking a few sips but even that couldn’t grant you bliss from it. The throbbing in your core was driving you absolutely insane. You swore up and down that it was like you could feel your heartbeat in your chest, stomach, and in your cunt all at the same time. “No, this is different…I don’t think what I took was a normal chem, Coop…” you said, trying not to panic at the effects that were setting in but god you felt like you were absolutely feral. He turned to look at you, watching as you clamped your thighs together and the red that fell over your face. “I feel like an animal in heat” you said bluntly, making him go into a near coughing fit as you took him off guard. However that piqued his interest enough to pick up the little metal box again to see what it was you took. “I ain’t ever heard of a chem that does that, was that DN shit the only stuff you took?” He asked, growing slightly concerned for you and whether he had a possible horde of laced chems, or just an extremely horny woman on his hands. Speaking of hands, you were lost in thought staring at them, at the way they gripped the couch like you wanted him to grip your thighs, at the way they looked in those leather gloves he always wore. You wondered how it would feel wrapped around your throat, or how it would feel if his fingers were buried deep inside of you. Shit. This was getting out of control.
“Hey, ya with me still?” He asked, snapping to try and get your attention back on the matter at hand, making you shake your head yes as you broke from your perverted thoughts. “Is that DN shit the only thing you took?” He asked again, making you shake your head yes once more, because you knew damn well your voice was going to betray you the moment you tried to speak. That had to be it, it was the only thing that was different out of it all and the only thing he’d never heard of before. He knew it wasn’t the vodka either because he was drinking it with you, so if it was affecting you, it would have affected him and it hadn’t.
It took him a minute to put two and two together before he finally realized the abbreviations stood for Date Night, reading the instructions and effects on the inside of the tin’s lid. “Shit..” he said as he read it, realizing this was a hand made thing thrown into the bunch by whoever was running this place. “Did you read the lid before you popped them pills?” He asked, making you go wide eyed. As if this couldn’t get any fucking worse, this shit show could have been avoided had you just read the inside of the lid. “There was instructions?? Oh my god…what the fuck did I take?” You asked, concerned for yourself and the tone he had while reading it. “Somethin’ that the creator of it called Date Night. Looks like it’s a…well looks like it’s a handmade sex chem” he said, making you cover your face with your hands out of sheer embarrassment, you’d never wanted to die out in a radstorm more than you did right now. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking, cooper…” you whined, watching him read it more. “How much of it did you take?” He asked, almost scared to know and you were scared to know why. “Two?” You replied, making him whistle at that as he read it. “Fuckin’ hell sugar..” he said through a chuckle, and that nickname made a shiver run through you, sending electric bolts straight to your throbbing cunt. You did your best to bite back the whimper. “You’re only s’possed take one, and with you bein’ new t’ all this, I wouldn’t have taken more than half” he said, making you just wish you could just dig a hole and die in it already. “Fuck me…wait, shit! N-Not literally fuck me I- well I mean I’d like if you did but…FUCK! Forgive me Cooper, I’m so sorry, I can hardly think straight” you said, making him chuckle. “Well sweetheart, I think you and I both know there’s only one good fix for this situation” he said, making you whimper pathetically at the thought, your thighs squeezing together even more as you tried to fight to stay sane. Your eyes cast downwards to his lap once more, seeing the tent forming in his pants, clearly you weren’t the only one all worked up here. “I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, Coop. I can run off and take care of myself if it makes you uncomfort-“ you rambled but before you could finish, his hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you in for a long awaited kiss. You moaned into it without meaning to, feeling the way your body immediately relaxed upon wrapping your arms around him with no hesitation as the sweet innocent kiss turned passionate and dirty rather quickly.
“I won’t lie t’ you, doin’ this with you has passed my mind more times than I’d care to admit, but I don’t wanna cross that line unless you really want this” he said, looking into your eyes and making sure that this was truly what you wanted, that you felt the same way he did. “Coop, I know I’m under the influence of whatever the fuck this drug is, but trust me when I say, I’d be just as good with it sober. Been thinking about it for probably just as long as you have, if I’m honest with you. I want this, I want you and right now I want you so fucking bad that I might lose my mind if you don’t fuck me” you answered bluntly, taking him by surprise at just the sheer amount of absolute filth that left your otherwise innocent mouth, making him chuckle at your use of curse words and how desperate you were for him. “That so sugar?” He asked with a grin, enjoying teasing you at your neediest moments, including now. “God yes, Cooper please..” you begged, nearly moaning in reply and he’d spent time mulling over it before, denying himself the chance but just as the chem stache was a pot of gold, he took this as one of the best opportunities being placed in his lap by whatever higher power existed out there, making him waste no time in kissing you once more. “Good, because I don’t think I’d be able to hold myself back once we’ve started” he said, and the idea made you moan. “Don’t want you to hold back, want all of you” you said, and your wish was his command.
By the time your brain could finally catch up with you again, your clothes were strewn out all around you, your tank top hanging over the back of the couch, your jeans thrown haphazardly on the arm rest behind you, his pants on the floor, his hat on the table and shirt and duster having fallen somewhere behind the couch. By now, you’d already cum on his fingers twice, and on his cock once, this was your fourth round and this shit still had you on fire. “Yes!! Oh fuck, Cooper!” you moaned as your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him as close to you as you could get, your fingers digging crescent shapes and puffy red lines into his back that unfortunately he knew wouldn’t stay long thanks to his ability to heal stupidly fast. “Doin’ so good for me, baby doll. Look so pretty like this for me, all splayed out like a needy little whore” he praised and degraded through his groans, making you moan and roll your eyes into the back of your head at the praise mixed with degradation as his cock was drilling deep inside you like tonight was all you guys had. “Yeah, you like that, huh sweet thing? Like it when I tell you how good it feels and call you names?” He asked, making you nod your head yes because there wasn’t a single thought in that brain of yours other than his name, which you spoke like a mantra. “Never knew such a sweet lil’ thing like you would be such a dirty little minx. Fuck…enough to make a man like me go feral, ya know that?” he said, making you giggle as you moved his free hand up to your throat, urging him to choke you, and he groaned at the sight. Your kiss swollen lips all puffy and shining with spit, your cheeks dusted a constant pink that grew darker anytime his cock brushed that spot deep inside that made you cling to him, your eyes half lidded, looking up at him like he was your savior. It made him absolutely rock hard knowing you’d pick him over anyone else in this god forsaken wasteland. “My, you are just a little freak, ain’t you? Oh we are gonna have fun together, you and me honey” he promised, squeezing your throat tight enough to restrict your airflow but not enough to hurt or cause any damage. Just enough to get that puddle of a brain of yours all fuzzy as you got closer to your fourth orgasm of the night. “Cooper…’m so close, so close please!!” You begged, feeling the heavy drag of his cock as he pounded into you, leaving you damn near screaming as it nudged your cervix and that spongy little bundle of nerves deep inside. “Go on honey, I gotchya. Let go for me, wanna see those pretty faces and hear those pretty noises you make” he said, angling his hips just right to hit that spot over and over again. “Oh fuck, oh fuck I’m gonna cum again, I-“ you warned before your moans rose in pitch as your walls clamped around him, gushing on his cock as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your body arched off the couch, stars filling your vision for a moment as you felt your release gush out and coat your inner thighs, screaming his name like it was your only chance at salvation. “Well ain’t I just the damn luckiest man in the wastelands right now, got me a pretty little vaultie and she’s a gusher” he said, making you whimper at his teasing but judging by the way he emptied himself inside you for the second time, you took it as a sign that he liked that about you. “Holy shit, I-I didn’t know I could do that” you said, thoroughly shocked with what your brain and body were doing as they almost seemed to almost be working against each other. “Do it again for me” he said, grabbing you and moving you both to where you were straddling him this time. His hands rested on your hips, helping guide you as you speared yourself on his dick with ease from how absolutely soaked you were, making you both throw your head back and moan. “Now that’s a damn good sight” he said, making you lean in to kiss him once more as his hands helped you start and keep a steady rhythm with your hips. It was definitely going to be a long night, but one you two have been needing for months, maybe even longer.
It’s a good thing ghouls have remarkable recovery time, because in order to finally get you sated and back to normal, you both had to spend all night going at it. Granted, it was aided by the mix of pent up sexual tension and pent up sexual frustration, but it was dawn before you both had gotten to a point where you could even *try* and fall sleep. First few times was on the couch between missionary, doggy and you riding him, next was you bent over it, with your pretty legs spread and ass in the air for him. Then, you used the arm rest of the couch as a pillow beneath your hips as he stood up while you laid out on the couch. He liked that one a lot for the way your tits would bounce with each and every forceful thrust into you, jolting your body. After that, it was done standing up with your back pressed against a wall, your legs and arms wrapped around him to keep him deep inside of you and fill you til he had nothing left to give you. From that point on, the rest of the night was all a hormone-hazed blur, but you knew well that he took care of you. You woke up unbelievably sore, your joints aching in places that you had no idea could even ache, a swollen, angry throb between your legs for the harsh, almost punishing treatment to your pussy followed by bruises, bite marks, scratch marks, hand prints etc. littered your skin as you woke up curled into Cooper’s side. You gave a gravelly groan as the sun shone in your eyes through the windows, making him chuckle at the way you were such a ray of sunshine except in the morning. Coming to learn that you absolutely *hated* mornings. Though you suppose you started to enjoy them more since traveling with him. “Mornin’ sunshine” he said coyly, making you groan disapprovingly at the way the sun was in your eyes, making you hold your hand up to cast a shadow on your face and grant you some relief. “Morning” you answered, your voice hoarse and half gone from sleep and all your activities that transpired the previous night. “Ain’t that a pretty sight” he said, turning and seeing you curled up to him, naked, your hair all messy from sleep and the hickeys and bite marks littering your skin, making you chuckle. “Last night was definitely something, can’t believe you’ve been holding all *that* out on me” you joked, making him give a dry laugh. “Could say the same thing about you, sugar. Had no idea that mind a yours could be so filthy. You’re a wild thing to party with, lil’ lady” he teased, sliding his arm around you to keep you close, making you hum as you lay soft, appreciative kisses to his collarbone and chest. “You’re fun too, and thank you for taking care of me last night. I’m sorry that it ended up happening the way that it did, I wanted to work up the courage and tell you some other way, I really did, but I guess life had other plans” you said making him chuckle as he saw you blush when he kissed your head. “Drunk words are sober thoughts they say, so I’d say I made out pretty good. But don’t sweat it, not sure how I deserved someone as good as you, but it’s good to know I ain’t as hard to stomach as most people say” he said, pulling you in for a soft, heartfelt kiss. “I think you are just perfect, Cooper” you said, your hand resting on his scarred chest as you looked at him with that gaze he swore he’d do anything to see pointed his way.
“You really wanna be my girl?” He asked softly, sounding shocked and with some self doubt still lacing his tone, but he had to be sure this was what you wanted outside of the drug’s effects. He cared for you deeply, in a way that he hasn’t felt in a very long time, but maybe you were just the right person for him to finally open his heart up to. His question made you giggle as your heart fluttered in your chest with excitement. “I absolutely do, I meant it when I said it last night, I mean it just as much now. I think we’ve danced around it for long enough, don’t you?” you replied, making him smile the most genuinely happy smile you’ve seen him wear since you’d met. “Just checkin’” he said, before laying a sweet kiss to your lips, wishing every morning could be like this one. Maybe it could, now that you were here with him.
the ghoul / cooper howard headcanons (18+) x fem!reader
minors dni!
wc. 1.2K+
content: spitting, ass eating, oral (f+m receiving), face fucking, pinv, dacryphilia, facial, little bit of biting (more like a nip at the skin), choking, squirting, clit pinching, hints of corruption kink(?)
names used: sweetheart, darling
note: since this is my first time back in a while this is a bit shorter than usual. i’m trying to work my way back into writing rather than just taking on big projects from the very beginning. so, i figured i’d stick to headcanons for the time being. i genuinely missed writing so much. i felt absolutely awful not being able to come up with ideas while i was going through writer’s block. but someway, somehow, fallout became an inspiration. enjoy! and feel free to message anytime, but i am not taking reqs at the moment!
main acct.
⤷ cooper is an ass eater (in more ways than one…)
Midday sunlight drenches the motel room in a hue of orange. The air is heavy in your lungs, your bare back pressed into the mattress as if you were trying to sink into it. Your knees were pushed back as far as possible, leaving you vulnerable to the ghoul that had you folded to his liking. Cooper’s tongue dodged any chance to touch you anywhere of complete significance.
His scarred face gently rubbed against the backside of your thighs as he left open mouth kisses on them. Groaning, he could see your cunt twitch at the lack of attention from the corner of his eye, drooling up a new bead of arousal. Licking slowly horizontally across the back of your thighs, he pauses for a moment as his lips meet the lips of your cunt. Dragging his tongue painstakingly slow through the sticky fluid with a low groan.
“Mmm,” he hummed as he looked towards you. His eyes meeting your own as he avoids your clit as much as possible. Then continuing to lick across to your other thigh, nipping at it before pulling his head back. His lips smacked as he licked at the stickiness left on his scarred lips. “Do you taste this good…everywhere, sweetheart?’
“H—huh?” The question confused your already scrambled mind. Leaving your brows furrowing as you look in Cooper’s direction. Only allowing him to huff out a small laugh before facing your cunt once more. Laying his tongue flat against your attentive pussy, he licks a strong stripe upwards, then wraps his lips around your clit as he nears it. His lips cling to it as if he were kissing you, tongue swirling reverently.
Pulling away with a soft tug and a gentle pop, you could feel him adjust himself a little further down the mattress — mouth still working at your pussy.
“What happens if I—” his talking was interrupted as he pushed his tongue into your cunt. Splitting you open for a moment before continuing. “put my tongue in this pretty ass? ‘Think it tastes as good as this pussy?”
The questions caught you off guard just as the previous one had. Leaving you stammering as you spoke through your moaning as he continued his assault on your cunt.
“I…I don’t kn—know,” you pushed past the haze of your mind. “I’ve never done that before—”
Before the words could fully leave your parted lips, your confession was interrupted.
“Let’s find out.”
You could feel Cooper’s tongue dipper lower. Meeting your tight ring of muscles with a long heavy and wet lick. A shocked gasp falls from your lips as your back arches from the bed. A muffled chuckle assures you he liked the new reaction very much. Taking the time to lick at your asshole he repeats the action numerous times before dragging his tongue back towards your clit.
“Now, that’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ ‘bout,” he hums in muffled approval against you.
⤷ he enjoys pinching your clit
Feeling your pussy clinging to his dick like a vice, Cooper coos before collecting a glob of saliva in his mouth. Aiming his spit where the two of you are connected as he looks down. His index finger and thumb spreading your cunt lips open for his viewing pleasure as you lay underneath him.
“You take it so good, damn pussy won’t let me go.” His words were almost embarrassing. His cock digs into your cunt as if he was made just for you and vice versa. “You gon’ cum for me?”
His words were becoming a tangled mess in your mind. Your ears weren’t even detecting a question aimed at you. Lost in the feeling of him dragging in and out, in and out. But if it’s one thing Cooper Howard doesn’t like, it’s being ignored.
“You don’t hear me fuckin’ talking to you?”
It came out of nowhere.
His index finger and thumb that was once used to hold your cunt lips wide for him clamped together. Your clit stuck between the two as he moved his two fingers up and down in tandem. A silent scream left your lips as your hand reached downwards to wrap around his wrist, already feeling your pussy clamp down so hard that you were sure if he tried to pull away you would just pull him back in.
Your orgasm wracked through your body like a sudden storm. Pulling something entirely different from you as your release splashed against the ghoul’s abdomen, squirting as if your life depended on it.
“I guess I got my answer.”
⤷ cooper will not hesitate to cum on your face
Your eyes well up with fat tears as Cooper pushes your head towards his pelvis. Your hands are tucked between your thighs, allowing him to use you with no pushback. Your nose touches right between his hips as he pushes his cock deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. Your eyes clear as day to him as you gazed at him as if you were in a trance. Getting your brains fucked out through face fucking.
“Shit. Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that, sweetheart.” His drawl heavier as he fucks into your throat. Looking at you on your knees, feeling his balls press against your spit soaked chin. Spit and precum creating a mixture that falls down towards your bare tits. “Pretty fuckin’ eyes, you sure are something. You’re too damn much if you ask me.”
A groan pushes past his lips as he leans down a bit. Wiping a tear that fell from one of your eyes.
“ ‘should come all over this pretty face.” He states. “Is that what you want? ‘s that why ya looking at me like you’re going to burst into tears?”
Feeling you hum in agreement around him, he could somehow feel his cock swell even more. Blood rushing to the fat tip that pressed against the back of your throat. Fucking into your mouth a few more times he pulls out completely.
Tapping his tip against your shiny lips he pumps his cock, watching as ropes of white paint your face. Sticking to your pretty skin, running down the sides of your cheeks. Falling across your nose and lips like it belongs there.
⤷ will lay tender kisses onto your temple amidst ruining you
Despite the way he fucks you, Cooper shares his softness as much as the wrecked world allows him to. You wouldn’t think he’s so deep in your cunt that he’s nearly tucked into your ribs as he places a feather light kiss on your temple. Your furrowed brows relax in the moment, eyelids hanging low as he sticks his arm under your chin — allowing you to rest your head on his forearm before he adjusts himself and gently curls his bicep around your neck.
His arm squeezes at the sides of your neck. Noting how your body reacts as he continues to pound at your sweet spot. Your ass bouncing off his hips and pushing your sticky cunt against the bedsheets, clit dragging against the fabric as you have no choice but to leak your arousal onto them.
“Ya making a mess, darling. I’ve never been so proud of you in my life.” Cooper chuckles and places another kiss on your temple. This time, letting his lips linger there a little longer.
Series Summary: Caesar’s Legion is invading the Mojave Wasteland. After your unfortunate run in with their horrific atrocities, a high ranking legionary spares you for one sole purpose.
Pairing: Dark!Acacius x Female Reader
Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI WC: 8k (AO3)
Chapter Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. VERY DARK. NONCON/DUBCON. Stockholm Syndrome, Explicit Smut, Violence, Power Abuse, Slavery and Forced Breeding, Age Gap, Derogatory Language, Creampies, Cum Talk, Unprotected PinV, Oral (m!receiving), Angst
Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III
Notes: This is a Fallout/Acacius crossover mini-series set during the events of Fallout New Vegas. You do NOT need to be familiar with Fallout to read this series. Huge thank you to Odi @thedilfdiaries who has been my biggest cheerleader for this series and my beta. Also huge thanks to Aly @iamasaddie for reading this over for me and giving me great feedback and courage. Endless love and gratitude to you both!
Series Masterlist | Notifs | AO3
It had been over 200 years since the atom bombs fell. The nuclear war that changed the globe forever. 200 years of radiation. Starvation. Violence. Factions splintering across the country and still fighting for the scraps of a forgotten world. A never ending fight for survival that became the new normal for every generation to come.
War never changes.
Word had spread across the Mojave that the Legion was pushing further West. The relative safeness of the settlements protected by the NCR was eroding. They had fewer soldiers to spare for protection and instead were mobilizing to protect the more important towns bordering the Colorado River and New Vegas.
Sunhollow was not a priority outpost, and the Legion could smell blood in the water. The New California Republic was struggling to hold on to its territory.
They came just before dawn's first light. At least 100 legionaries surrounded Sunhollow and the first wave charged in with spears and machetes. Snipers picked off anyone who tried to flee. Some of the citizens fought back but they were no match for the brutality that the legionaries wielded.
Just four NCR Rangers were stationed there and managed to take down several Legion soldiers with their submachine guns before they were overcome. They were quickly captured. They were gathered at the center of town and burnt alive on the pyres. Frightened townsfolk were slaughtered as they tried to run and their bodies were just left to rot with the rising sun. Everything smelt like death.
This raid was nothing but a slaughter. The men were either crucified or beaten to death. The youngest children were rounded up and enslaved. The older ones were left to share the same fate as the men. They had already been influenced by the NCR values and could never be indoctrinated into the Legion. It was not worth the risk. Unlike the tribal towns that lived peacefully without the influence of the NCR, no man at Sunhollow was given the choice to pledge their loyalty to the Legion.
The Legion referred to anyone in the NCR as profligates and used it like a filthy slur. An annoying blight to be removed and the last real opponent in their path to taking over the West. They stole nothing, instead just leaving behind an aftermath of death and blood and fear. Their numbers were growing, and their patience dwindling. Smaller Legion camps like this one had an eagerness to exterminate the outlier towns while final preparations were being made to wipe out the NCR Army once and for all.
After hearing about the atrocities at the town of Nipton where only one person was left alive, this war has progressed far beyond just disrupting supply lines and taking out NCR soldiers. They wanted to demoralize anyone left standing with the NCR and eliminate anyone who shared their values.
Personal liberties were not granted in the Legion. Everyone served Caesar and if you were to oppose you would be killed without question. The youngest and newest recruits were always used as front line attackers and many of them knowingly gave their lives for the cause, because it was what they were trained to do. Those who proved themselves were able to move up in the ranks with better weapons and armor. Loyalty was rewarded. This made the fiercest and most competent fighters the best equipped to survive.
You had learnt all about the Legion while working closely with the NCR Rangers. The only reason you were in Sunhollow was to accompany a trade caravan delivering medical supplies between outposts. You were spending a few nights resting before heading back West. The trade route was relatively safe until recent months and you knew the risks. You could handle yourself with a firearm while the mercenaries took out the big threats. Not this time. You along with everyone else in Sunhollow were not prepared for this.
Reading pre war books you had a wealth of knowledge on the Roman Empire too. You were fortunate to be raised to understand advanced literacy. While many people only knew how to read and write the bare minimum, it had become something you excelled at and leveraged in your line of work as a merchant.
A useful skill that at this moment felt incredibly useless. There was no reasoning with legionaries and being an overly educated woman was a threat more than anything. Something to keep to yourself and blend in as a cooperative and docile captive.
You dropped to your knees in a line with other “lucky profligates” that were temporarily spared. They made you watch the relentless slaughter of the townsfolk. Watching grown men cry and beg for mercy before receiving a beating or a blade to the throat. Your caravan of male colleagues had long been decimated. Being a healthy, young woman was the only thing keeping you breathing for now.
You gathered that the pair of soldiers with the red plumes fanning across their helmets were the infamous Centurions. Rising to their comfy position because of their proven brutality. Their presence here was an indication that this was more than just a raid. They seemed to be accompanying a more practically dressed legionary administering the fate of the remaining captives.
He walked back and forth along the row of women with bound hands, denoting many of them ‘unfit’. They were dragged off into the town hall by hungry wolves eager to have their way before taking their lives. Judging by the screams coming from the building, none of it was merciful.
He didn’t wear a helmet, and his armor was splattered in blood. His machete hung at his hip opposite of his sidearm, adorning his traditional looking black and gold roman armor with nuclear age weaponry. The Legion was known for following the military structure of the ancient Romans, right down to the armor.
He stood in front of the town hall, presiding over the soldiers assembling more crosses to crucify the remaining men. Observing the newly made slaves who were tossing bodies of their friends into the pyres. He looked tired of it all. Tired of wasting potential resources for the sake of spreading fear and demoralization. You caught the subtle way his expression was less enthusiastic, almost as if he found these immoral deeds repulsive. Or so you imagined. You were desperate for any sliver of hope that could save you at this point.
Acacius, you heard the other men call him. You deduced he was some sort of higher ranking Legionary. He had a red tunic with gold accents under his armor, making him stand out. His armor was more ornate, too, with a golden Medusa emblem on his chest. Golden claws decorated his pauldrons. The worn, black patina of his armor made him look menacing and regal.
“Ave, Caesar,” he said as he nodded to some of his men, appearing to give them permission to string up the unlucky souls. They did so without apprehension but his face wore a hint of disgust. It was easy to miss, but you were watching him intently.
He was older than many of the others. Grey flecks throughout his scruff and his messy, dark curls. Sullen eyes and an aquiline nose. His shoulders were broad and commanding with a more tapered waist. His arms and legs were solid with lean muscles and he exuded power from every angle. His meaty thighs proudly showing exposed flesh between the pteruges on his skirt and above his leather greaves. Legs that could chase you down in an instant. His body was built to fight and built to win with or without a weapon.
He carried himself with a confidence that his word was absolute, and to challenge him would be met with his raw strength. Everything about his presence felt powerful and unforgiving.
He was… handsome. An observation you lamented given the situation.
He kept evaluating you with intrigue and finding something about you worth keeping around for now. You couldn’t stop trying to sneak a reading on him either. It was a dangerous game, but one you couldn’t seem to withdraw from.
You also overheard one of the younger soldiers quipping quietly about his leadership. Criticizing him for sparing the lives of profligate women and children. How instead they should be slaughtering everyone to make an example, even the ones that had their uses. His eyes scanned over you as he said the last part with insinuation.
Acacius apparently heard it too, as it sparked him to take action for mocking his command.
“Hold your tongue, or you will join these bodies,” he threatened as he brandished his machete and pressed it to the soft flesh under the chin of the mouthy soldier, who cowered back. “You know nothing about building an empire.”
The soldier steadied himself, submitting only to get out of his situation. Even you could see this one was a loose cannon.
“Yes, Acacius,” he conceded with a fake docility.
“Disobey me again and it will be your last breath.” Acacius stepped forward as he spoke those words and pushed his chin upward with the blade. A trickle of blood ran down his neck as he punctured him with the tip.
His eyes caught you watching him and his face hardened, hiding any traces of morality as he sheathed his weapon. Your curiosity had overstepped and you had seen too much.
You looked away, but could still feel him on you for a moment longer. Your gaze dangerously fluttered back to him as if he was willing you to look again. His penetrating glower investigating your misplaced interest in him.
His body was still running on the adrenaline from the bloody slaughter earlier. Unlike most other men in higher ranks who still had unsullied armor, he was in the thick of it all. Ruthless and leading with brutality. He wasn’t just executing orders. He was an expert killer and didn’t happen to be in his position by accident. He demonstrated his skills in battle, and the snide comment he overheard sparked a primal rage in his core. How dare anyone question him?
It was a wishful and foolish thought to find any sympathy in the Legion. You try to look away as he steps towards you, bracing for the blade that was sure to follow.
He grabbed you by your neck and forced you to look him in the eyes. To his surprise, and yours, you met them with prowess.
His gaze caught the two-headed bear badging on your shoulder. A mark of NCR allegiance. It enraged him.
“Get up.” he barked. He towered over you as he pulled you up by your bound hands. “Make yourself useful, Profligate whore.”
Your words stuck in your throat and you were silent. He was going to make a demonstration of his savagery, at your expense.
–
You could hear some sneers coming from some of the nearby legionaries as he pushed you up the stairs and into the nearby building. They were laughing at your misfortune like savage hyenas as you were being paraded into the lion's den.
A few more legionaries were inside, forcing themselves on captive women. Out in the open, it didn’t matter to them. They were barbaric. Celebrating their victory with some casual rape and torture. It was abhorrent. They seemed to have more privilege and were able to indulge in their spoils. Their helmets resembled war bonnets, decorated in black and red feathers. Some of them wore red face wraps or darkened goggles, making them look even more menacing.
Everything about the Legion was so hierarchical and you figured they must be Decanus. Commanders under Acacius. Middle management. Leaders. Dangerous men who got away with too much and still had too much to prove to ascend even higher. At least they were easy enough to pick out.
When they saw Acacius the room tensed. He fanned his hand out to signal that there was no need to stop what they were doing. His silent command was somehow even more intimidating.
Your chest tightened and you bit your lip to stop it from quivering. This was not a fate you would wish on your worst enemy.
You turned to face him and tried to plead with a whisper, choking on your words in panic. He ignored you and pushed you into the middle of the room. You fell onto your forearms and knees, grabbing the attention of others who started to eye you like a piece of meat.
He stood above you like a conqueror and used his foot to turn you on your back to face him. His expression was cold and dutiful. That morality you swore you saw earlier was gone.
He kneeled down with his legs spread over you and pressed his body up against you. You struggled underneath him, fighting for your life as he caged you in. His hand wrapped around the front of your neck and tightly held it as he leaned over your shoulder. He spoke softly in your ear but with a vulgarity and crudeness that made you shudder.
“You can be a whore for my men, who will use you up until there is nothing left. Or, you can behave and perform your duty to me as Caesar sees fit.”
You knew what that meant. The only duty women had was to be bred to make more soldiers. You heard the horror stories. Women were not free in the Legion. Nobody was really, but women had it the worst. The healthy and docile ones were relegated to breeders and the old and young used for slave labor. All of them were property to be used by the Legion men whenever they wanted. Anyone not compliant or too smart for their own good was killed. They only needed your body, and nothing more. You were either indoctrinated into the Legion, or your life was taken.
Your survival instincts kick in as panic courses through your body. You can fight it or you can accept the hand dealt to you. The luxury of living is dangled in front of you with a cruel ultimatum that will likely end in death either way. You know for certain you are not ready to leave this world at the hands of being torn apart and defiled by multiple barbaric men.
This was just one man. One large, powerful man who was giving you a choice.
You give him what he wants and signal your obedience by relaxing your body under him. Your heart was hammering out of your chest with an obscene thud and he felt your fear pulsing through your veins. It was turning him on and you felt him swell between his legs.
The pressure on your throat left you unable to speak and he pushed against you even harder as you struggled to breathe.
“That’s a good girl,” he growled into your ear.
If you cooperated maybe it could earn you another day to live. Another day to figure out what the hell you were going to do.
His hand relaxed on your throat as he pulled back to stand up. You gasped for the air you were finally afforded. He stripped your tattered clothes off your body with little effort and flipped you back over onto your stomach.
You lay there, prone and paralyzed with your bound hands outstretched in front of you. Naked and shaking.
Acacius took off his belt and with it tossed his weapons to the side. He freed his hardness as he stepped out of his underclothes. Crudely, he spit into the palm of his hand and spread it along his cock and kneeled down between your legs.
His leather bracer slid roughly across your skin as he worked an arm under your belly to lift up your hips. He made just enough room to slide his hand over your mound and grab you with a rough hold. Blood and grime was still covering his body and the metallic, earthy smell made you recoil. You winced at the feeling of his filth making contact with you.
He propped you up on your knees with your forearms supporting some of your weight while he nestled up to the plush of your ass against his hips. His massive form looming behind you made you feel even smaller and more insignificant than you already were. You had zero leverage.
Your mind was racing. How many women had he taken in this way? How many women had chosen this same fate? How likely was it that after he fucked you he would take pleasure in killing you too?
Those thoughts fell to the wayside as his middle finger abruptly dragged into your slit, gathering your wetness. You didn’t expect your body to be preparing you like it was. Betrayal or gratitude, it made no difference.
“Mmm” he groaned as he pushed two of his fingers into your hole. “You actually want Legion cock, don’t you?”
His absurd question goes unanswered and you resent your body.
His rough, gritty digits worked you open and it couldn’t even be considered a poor excuse for foreplay. He wasn’t priming you for a good time. This was about him taking what he wanted, when he wanted and how he wanted. Prying you open so there was as a little resistance as possible when he inevitably drove into you.
He pinched at your sensitive bud to see if he could draw a sound from you and scoffed when you did, as if to mock you for reacting to his touch. He cupped your mound hard and jammed his fingers back into you, splaying them inside. He teased more pressure on your clit with the heel of his hand until he was convinced you would be able to take him. Whether you were ready or not, he would make it fit regardless. That much you were certain of.
You could feel his length getting harder against your ass. You tried to calm yourself from the panic that ensued when you realized how massive he really was as he began rutting his hardness against you. Sheathed in a needy, primal rhythm that was picking up tempo.
Deep breaths. You closed your eyes, focusing on breathing as you hung your head low and braced for what was to come. He tore his hand from you and left you empty for the briefest moment.
He wasted no time lining up his cock with your slit. The spongy head leading the way for his engorged member. Tapping it against you as he started to rut into you with fervor. Splitting you open with his thick shaft.
Your eyes went wide and you cried out with a pained mewl. Not only was he denying you time to adjust to his size, but he was so swollen with need. The girth of his cock complimented his broadness all over. The pain from the stretch seared into you like a hot knife. Your eyes tightly shut and tears fell.
He pushed you down into the floor as he fucked you. His hands clawed into your hips, trying to hold you up and pulling you into him until his weight had you pinned under him. The floorboards scraped against your skin each time he pounded into you, making your knees and elbows raw.
Your hands were clasped together in an iron grip. The rope around your wrists felt like it was getting tighter the more you struggled.
The rough leather strips of his armored skirt slapped into your skin as he thrusted, drawing his full length out and driving it back in even deeper. Again and again. Forcing himself into you and taking up all available space, greedy to make more room.
His groans were loud and animalistic. He was overcome by his nature and held nothing back. Pounding into you with ferocity. Each thrust harder and more urgent to lose himself inside you.
“Please…” you horsley pleaded to him. “Please…” you didn’t know what you were asking for, you just wanted it to be over.
You turned your head so your cheek was pressing into the floor and tried to gaze up at him. His focus on you was unwavering, boring into your soul. The darkness in his eyes had zero regard for your attempt at thwarting his intensity.
He didn’t let up.
As his cock twitched inside you felt him slow his pace, but not his force. You could feel him starting to come undone as he began knocking at your deepest parts. The tight coil in your belly started to unwind.
Fuck no, please no. You pleaded to yourself.
You resented your body for how it started to accept him inside you. Your walls clenched around his heat as he fucked you harder and harder. How could your body betray you so cruelly to give you any semblance of pleasure from such a vile man? The heavy drag of his cock against your ridges stirred something inside that you wanted to bury away, but it clawed itself out.
Despite where you were it felt like everything shrunk away and simplified. It was just two bodies fucking and teetering on the edge of bliss. Allowing your mind to escape into a place where it would be ok. A place where you could give in to the growing heat in your belly and revel in the way it washed over you.
The pretty moan that escaped your lips was enough to send him over the edge before you could choke it back. He heard you unravel. Your convulsing walls gave you away anyways, and he knew he had you. Squeezing him tightly as something dark and sinister released within.
He grit his teeth and pulsed inside you, drawing from you a whimper. You could feel his hot cum filling you up as he panted, emptying his balls and painting the depths of your cunt with his spend. He fucked it deeper inside you until he finally started to soften and still.
The room was silent except for his heavy breathing and your despondent sobs.
The tears streamed down your face as he pulled out of you and hovered on all fours over your broken body beneath him. His hand wrapped into your hair as he yanked your head up so your ear was to his mouth.
“You’ll take my cock when I give it to you,” he threatened. “I’ll fuck this profligate cunt until my cum is the only thing left inside you.”
The grip in your hair tightened as he urged you to acknowledge him. His hot breath puffed against your ear with each labored exhale.
“You hear me?” he snarled. His grip was painful on your scalp and you winced.
“Yes, Ac-” your reply trailed off, not knowing if you should dare say the name you overheard.
“Acacius.” He enunciated boldly.
“Yes, Acacius.”
Content with your reply, he pushed you back onto the floor. You laid there afraid to move or speak another word.
He redressed and adorned his weapons. Ignoring you laying there like a discarded plaything he lost interest in.
Except that, you didn’t know it, but he felt drawn to you in a way that he knew he had to have more of you. You intrigued him in a new way. You weren’t weak like the others, and you were observant. He wanted to challenge your resolve and break your spirit to succumb to him without hesitation. You saw something in him that he tried to hide away. Something inappropriate and unbecoming of a legionary in his position. Your dissolute temptation had to be snuffed out before it took hold on him and yet he couldn’t bring himself to take your life. Not yet. He had to try to tame you first. Fuck it out of you and taste your fruit before it spoiled.
You wondered why you were spared. Surely keeping someone like you alive with strong NCR convictions would be a great risk for the Legion. Maybe he wanted you to tempt him. To challenge him. Maybe it was all a game for him to see if he could turn you to his side. Or maybe he was waiting for you to fuck up so he could have his fun in new ways.
It was all too much to think about when your fate was teetering dangerously at the hands of the enemy.
“This one’s mine.” He casually commands to the other men as he walks away from your disheveled body without as much as a glance back.
Mine. The tone of how he referred to you so nonchalant replayed over and over in your head. What did that really mean for you?
Whoever he was, he had authority. You felt like you made a deal with the devil. Sold your soul and to what end?
You could feel him leaking out of you as you shifted to curl your arms against your chest and draw your legs together tightly. You wanted to shrink away and disappear. Wake up from the nightmare.
What the fuck were you going to do now? Was this your life now? To be bred and kept like livestock and bolstering the future generations of Legion until you died? The thought of such a bleak destiny made your head spin and your heart race.
You lay broken on the floor, catching your breath between tears. Feeling empty where he stretched you open. It was a hard feeling to reconcile. You had no concept of how much time had passed, only that it felt eternal, and you felt alone. Wanting for something that you couldn’t define.
None of the other legionaries touched you, but you could feel their eyes on your broken body. Feel how much they wanted to. Perverse thoughts and immoral intentions being projected at you with their hungry gaze. Leaving you there vulnerable and subdued felt as much a test to them as it was punishment for you.
You felt the tiniest comfort inside that you could not quite explain. Not gratitude, but some faded semblance of it. Acacius had been merciful in a twisted way. He stripped you of your dignity and your freedom, but he didn’t give you to the wolves.
–
One of the decanus commanders came in after some time and approached you assertively. His face was covered up with a red cloth and black goggles, and his helmet was covered in black feathers flowing backwards. He looked ready to run into battle.
He tossed a garb at you. A plain, linen dress style tunic except for a red X painted on the front. The mark of a legion slave.
He brandished his knife and reached for your wrists to cut the rope binding your hands. The marks left behind were raw and bloody.
Without your hands bound it changed very little other than some minor relief. There was no place to run and no way to escape without being hunted down in an instant. If you didn’t get picked off by a bullet, one of the mongrels would make quick work of you. Even if you somehow managed to get away, you would die in the Mojave with no supplies. Your hands were more useful to them being untethered and put to work. You weren't going anywhere.
With your new found freedom you threw the dress to the side and turned away from him, wrapping your arms around your knees to withdraw the best you could. Was he expecting you to be grateful for something to cover up with? You’d rather be naked than wear those dehumanizing rags.
What came next caught you off guard.
The sting of his hand on your cheek shocked you. He had backhanded you, holding back nothing. The delayed pain came with a vengeance and your eyes welled up with tears.
“Put it on and get outside with the others. We’re leaving.”
You did.
–
You and the few other women left were all given the same modest garbs to wear. Easy access for the taking whenever they wanted to. The thought made your stomach churn. They didn’t even give you proper footwear. You were expected to march with what were essentially socks.
You didn’t speak to the other women and they didn’t speak to you. They were all behaving compliantly. In shock from the neverending atrocities. Shells of their former selves. They had been broken too, just as you were. You didn’t know any of them from your short stay at Sunhollow and that realization further exemplified the feeling of truly being alone.
You were rounded up between two formations of soldiers and followed in line with the others as you moved out. You were given supplies to carry and you wondered how your body could possibly manage this for miles. It did, because there was no other choice.
The sight of the pyres and burning buildings reminded you how Sunhollow would be forever transformed into a desolate graveyard. Inhabitable and soon the scraps would be picked over by raiders until nothing remained but bones and ashes.
You only saw Acacius from a distance. He had cleaned up since your last encounter with him, no longer covered in blood and his armor polished. He had a crimson cape draped over his pauldrons and was positioned to the front of the march. He looked regal and intimidatingly powerful.
He was leading the Legion onward to the next place to destroy. Legionaries near him were holding red banners with the signet of the bull. Anyone within eyesight of them wouldn’t dare intervene with their march. The Legion’s reputation for cruelty and brutality made them feared by everyone.
An unexplained pit formed in your stomach. He felt so far away and unreachable. While it should be a good thing to get as far away from him as possible, somehow it felt wrong. Dangerous even. It was hard to reconcile with the way you felt.
You were safer with him than without.
Crucified bodies lined the street as you were led away from your past life. Walking towards an uncertainty. You wondered if you would be better off to be strung up like them. At least their battle was over… until you noticed a few of them still breathing and left to die in the sun with a slow and agonizing death.
You followed in line with the others, silent and defeated. Marching onward with strangers to an unknown future.
–
It didn’t take long for your intuition to be proven right.
After a full night and day of walking across the Mojave with minimal rest, the army made a proper camp for the night. Basic tents were quickly setup along with fires to cook food and stay warm. Everything was done with efficiency like a well oiled machine.
The tents were basic and simply used for sleeping quarters. No comforts other than a bedroll. A place to rest with a fabric roof over their heads. Everybody was beyond exhausted and quickly off to sleep after eating. A few guards stood on the outskirts to keep watch, but for the most part, it was quiet. Almost peaceful with the stars above looking extra bright in the night sky.
You recognized where you were from your extensive time on the road with the caravan. You were following the Colorado river, and heading closer and closer towards New Vegas; the heart of the Mojave. The place where sooner or later the big showdown between the Legion and NCR Army would come to a head. Hoover Dam and New Vegas were the big points of contention, and you had been strategically distancing yourself as things escalated. Now, that was completely unavoidable.
You and the other captives were left out in the open surrounded by tents in the cold, night air. The only comfort was the rags you were laying on and letting your feet rest. You were exhausted, and barely had time to think about it before falling asleep.
You were startled awake when you felt a cold blade graze your cheek.
Your eyes fluttered open and you started to panic and let out a shriek until the man pressed his knife across your throat, daring you to make another sound. If anyone else woke up, they pretended not to see anything.
“You think you’re special, don’t you? Well, I’m gonna see what’s so special about you myself.”
His eyes were blown out, black with evil intention. It was this time you recognized this was the same soldier that was mouthing off about Acacius earlier. You had humiliated him without meaning to, and he wasn’t going to let that go.
“No profligate is worth keeping alive, even if she’s a looker.” His tongue wet his lips and your face contorted in disgust. He was a repulsive man.
The soldier was reaching his arm up your dress and you didn’t dare move a muscle with your throat a hairline from being slit. You tightly closed your eyes and heard a loud blast. A gunshot. Hot liquid splattered on your face. Blood.
Acacius came out of the shadows and silenced the legionnaire with a single bullet to the back of his head.
His lifeless body fell to the ground with his hand still resting on your inner thigh. Running his mouth had, yet again, been his downfall. Alerting Acacius who was restless in his nearby tent, and masking his footsteps.
Your heart was pounding with adrenaline from the close call, and gratitude for your savior. You looked him in the eyes and they were dutiful. He was protecting his spoils on the outside, but you saw a glimmer of fear in his eyes if he had been too late.
Acacius dragged the body off of you and spit on his fresh corpse after he said something disapproving in a latin tongue. His insolence had reached its limit, and his now dead body was left there as a reminder that insubordination had consequences.
The commotion at this point had awoken several of the men. The prying eyes of the obedient soldiers accompanied silence. They knew better. That soldier had it coming and Acacius had swiftly ended that incident.
You locked eyes with Acacius again, and he simply nodded towards his tent and turned on his heels.
You got up to follow him, trailing behind like a lost puppy as he went back to his tent. A modest, semi-private cloth housing with nothing but a bedroll and a few supply crates. The thin door covering did nothing for sound but it provided the tiniest privacy from prying eyes.
His armor was laid near his bedroll along with his weapons. He tossed his sidearm in the pile and raked his hand down his face. He was wearing just his red tunic and looked so much more vulnerable; unarmed and frustrated.
You feared following him to his tent was overstepping, but your adrenaline high from the recent assault made you do it anyway.
“Thank you,” you gazed down, afraid to see his reaction as you approached. Afraid he would disapprove of you speaking to him.
He reached towards you cupping your chin and forcing you to look up at him while he pulled you in closer.
“No one is going to take what’s mine. Nothing more than that.”
There it was again. Mine.
His words were dismissive of what this really meant to you, but you could see through him. Now in a more private setting without the eyes of his subordinates he didn’t have to put on an act. There were cracks and an opportunity for you to explore his true intentions. Was he claiming you just for the sake of control or was there something more? He seemed brash on the surface, but underneath maybe you could strip away the noise and see what kind of a person he really was.
He let go of your chin and pulled a rag out from a water bucket by his feet. He wrang out the excess and held your face against the palm of his hand while he wiped the cloth across your cheek. The bridge of your nose. The other side. Wiping away the blood of the man who dared to touch you. He was being gentle. Tender, even. He wasn’t making eye contact, focused instead of brushing away the filth.
You watched him intently. Impossible to read, but you couldn’t deny your intuition. He had a guilty aura about him. Guilty for what the man tried to do to you, or sympathetic for bringing you into this cruel world to begin with. You were going to find out.
“Clean yourself up,” he said quietly as he handed the rag to you to finish the job. You could feel the blood still sticking on your skin and imagined you must be a sight.
You kneeled next to the bucket and washed your skin the best you could, relishing in the cool kiss of the water's touch.
Acacius groaned as he sat on one of the supply crates, using it like a chair. His posture was so tired and almost docile. It was hard to imagine he had just killed a man with zero remorse. Unphased by taking a life.
What overcame you was that same undefined feeling you had earlier. You wanted to be closer to him, and give him a reason to want you close. While he had just saved you, you had only narrowly escaped.
You crawled on your knees in front of him, slowly and with an eagerness to thank him. His tired eyes narrowed on you as kneeled between his legs.
You reached for the hem of his tunic and found his cock half-hard. You gazed up at him with glossy eyes.
“Let me thank you properly.” You paused with apprehension.
His cock twitched at your offer but he kept his face stern. It was hard to read him and know if you were overstepping or if this would be condoned. You swallowed back your hesitancy and pushed on, hoping for his approval.
You slid your hands up his thighs and pushed back his tunic all the way to his belly so you could have unobstructed access. You opened your mouth and let your tongue poke out, giving his tip a lick and placing a kiss. It was almost playful. You weren't sure what came over you, but you embraced it when he stifled a sound that you recognized. A pleasurable groan.
Of course any man would enjoy this act, but this was a man that was used to taking. Not this unsolicited softness you were bestowing on him.
He tangled his hand in your hair and urged you in closer, using his other hand to hold his cock steady at the base.
“Knew you’d be a good girl for me,” he said with a low and breathy voice. The praise from his words made that darkness inside you stir again. You wanted his praise.
You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, lapping gently at his leaking slit and relishing his flavor. You could sense his body was tired and resigned to letting you do all the work. It felt like a test too, to see how much you would do without him forcing you. See how much you wanted him and how far you would take this on your own volition.
You took in more and more of his length, letting your tongue lick up the underside of his cock and feeling it stiffen even more. You were just now able to really marvel at its size. He was thick and weighty with a slight curve to the left. You traced the prominent vein that trailed along his shaft with your tongue, pulsing under your touch. You were getting sloppier with your mouth as he was getting harder and it was becoming a lot more to handle than you were used to.
The tightness in your core was starting to wind up. A heat spreading that called for attention you tried to push aside.
Your hands left the tops of his thighs briefly to reach for his balls. They too were hefty and he stifled another moan as you worked them with your fingertips. He seemed to really enjoy that and you had a mind to give them more attention with your mouth if he didn’t have such a grip on you already.
He was fully hard now and jerked into you, losing some control. You relaxed your throat enough to let him thrust inward. Your hands returned to his legs to brace yourself as he bucked a little too hard and you gagged on his cock. The throaty groan he made watching you struggle was heavy with arousal.
“Easy. Take me nice and slow,” he ordered. It was easier said than done when he was the one bucking into you. He brushed his thumb to push back your hair and you melted at his tenderness and how his hands engulfed you effortlessly.
You relaxed as best you could, taking in more and more of him. Both of his hands were twisted in your hair now, pulling your head to bob on his length slowly. He wasn’t holding you tightly, but you could feel his fingers curl into your scalp when you hollowed your cheeks.
You looked up at him and saw his mouth parting open slightly. His eyes were intently locking with yours. He was submitting to your tongue in a way that felt new for him. Relinquishing some control even if it was just for a moment.
You savored the pearly beads of precum that trickled out and wanted to receive more. His musky, sweaty scent combined with the saltiness of his taste made it all feel so raw and primal.
Seeing your mouth stuffed full with his cock made him twitch even more and you could tell he was getting close. He was trying to pull you off of him slowly. You sucked the tip hard and it made a wet pop as it released from your lips.
It was turning you on too, and you could feel how wet you were getting between your legs. You initially just wanted to placate him, but it felt like it was becoming so much more. You wanted him to spill into your mouth so you could drink him down. Hear the way he moaned when you sucked him dry. It was a thirst that overtook your reasoning and you mouthed his tip again in defiance.
There was a shift in his energy. That dutiful look returned as he fought against your needy mouth.
“Not wasting my cum in your throat.” His words came out biting but heavy with need. Reminding you of your role to play.
He yanked you off sharply and pulled you up to straddle his lap. Sitting over his meaty thighs he hooked his hand behind your back to hold you in place. You reached your arms out to hang off of his shoulders.
He grabbed the base of his cock and dragged the head along your swollen clit. He was already wet from your spit, but he gathered your slick for good measure. You moaned when he pressed into your clit and you caught the way he looked so pleased with himself. He was studying how your mouth gaped from his touch.
“Needy thing you are,” he groaned, low enough that you wondered if he meant to say it out loud.
You were good and ready, and he wasn’t interested in waiting any longer to get his release. He pulled you down hard on his length, filling you to the hilt in one motion and looking you dead in the eye when he did it. Watching you gasp at the stretch and your eyes widened. You were so needy for his cock and it felt right having him inside you again. The pain from the sudden invasion inside your body was overtaken by euphoria. The emptiness finally being soothed.
He held you like that for a moment and you wanted to beg him to move. You needed that friction to alleviate your aching hunger. He needed it too, but he was enjoying seeing you get impatient for his cock. You could feel him swell inside you and in this seated angle he nestled inside you even deeper.
“Acacius…” you whined and tried to lift up on his shaft but he held you still. He pressed his thumb into your clit and rubbed. Holding you down, impaled on his cock; unmoving. Making you start to convulse on him and moan under his touch.
“You’re gonna let me do what I want,” he said as his thumb’s motion intensified. “And I’m going to fill you with my cum.” More pressure on your clit. “Again.” Another circle. “And again.” Harder this time. “And again.”
The pleasure blooming was becoming too much and he knew he had you.
“And you're going to be begging me for it.” With those words he thrust into you, teasing the release you were chasing.
You let out a whimper and tried to speak, but your words were swallowed up by your moans. He thrust again.
“Fuck. Acacius… yes. I want..” he thrusted again “..want you to fill me.”
He hammered into you and the drag of his cock against your walls combined with the pressure on your clit was too much. Your orgasm washed over you in a way you never experienced before. A crescendo throughout your body, overtaking your flesh and soul. Clenching him and begging for him to cum.
His seed blasted into you and you felt him filling you up. His heat seeped into you as he groaned. There was so much, filling you deliciously with his cum, just as he promised.
He left you there for a moment, his cock slowly softening inside you but still plugging you up so nothing could escape while you caught your breath.
As the high of your orgasm began to fade it left you with a mix of emotions. Fucked out of your mind and also terrified of what you were getting yourself into. You knew he ultimately wanted to impregnate you, and you knew that you never wanted to bring children into this fucked up world. Still, the deep seeded fear of getting pregnant faded away when he was filling you so perfectly. He was right, you were going to be begging for it, and that future terrified you.
It also felt like a problem for another day. Right now, you had to live in the moment and figure out how you were going to make it to tomorrow. As you began to fall for Acacius, you were certain of one thing. Keeping him content was your only chance.
The tent was quieter now with you still in his lap and your shared breathing calming to an even rhythm. You didn’t want to leave his side. With him you were safe. He wasn’t going to hurt you, and he certainly wouldn’t let anyone else touch you if there was a chance you were carrying his child. It made you feel sickened to think of another potential life as armor, but it was the reality you were living in.
“Can I stay here with you tonight?” You asked, sheepishly.
There was something you could not shake about Acacius. While his words and actions were cruel and despicable on the outside, something about him seemed shaken. A legionary who showed any sort of wavering would be killed without question. Loyalty to Caesar was above all paramount. He had no choice on how to conduct himself in the eyes of the other Legion soldiers.
But you saw something in his eyes. Unexplainable but tangible. Something that gave you just enough hope that he wasn’t as evil as you thought. Maybe he was different after all. Maybe he was redeemable. Maybe he just needed someone like you to help him see the Legion for what it truly was.
You had to try.
“Not letting you out of my sight.”
To be continued… (Chapter 2)
NPT for folks who interacted with my WIPS/Masterlist
Summary: Before meeting the ghoul, you worked as a courier. After striking a mutually beneficial deal with him, you became a bounty hunter, but it’s clear that your dynamic is much more complicated than that.
Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), petplay (implied kinda), dom/sub dynamics, unprotected sex (don't do it at home), creampie (implied radaway/radx use), light dehumanization, both degradation and praise, dirty talk, cursing, some mentions of violence, and lmk what else!
WC: 2.5k words
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A loud, high pitched whistle made you pause mid-sentence. You recognized it as a sign that time was almost up, and you better get some answers before he lost his patience altogether.
You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment before looking back at the small shop’s vendor.
“You said you heard he was going north?” You asked.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, heard him mention something about one of those mini-marts . You know the kind. There’s two on the way to Shady Sands that might be worth checking.”
You swallowed hard, but hid your discomfort. “And he was gone yesterday morning? Alone? ”
“Yeah, as far as I know he arrived alone, too.”
“You weren’t curious enough to ask?”
“Not the kind to ask raiders more questions than I need to.”
You stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth or not. He had no reason to be helping raiders, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have other reasons to lie.
He cleared his throat and looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. He’d been eyeing the clunky, collar-like tracking device around your neck, unsure of what it meant or who exactly was tracking you. Clearly, he didn’t intend to find out.
“Alright, I’ve told you enough. You better get out of here before anyone else starts asking questions.”
You nodded once, knowing better than to push your luck. You took three caps out of a hidden pouch on your belt and tossed them at him.
“Thanks,” you said, turning on your heel and making your way back out of the narrow alleyway.
The ghoul was leaning against the wall just out of view, the brim of his hat pulled low. You caught the edge of his grin as you approached, and he pushed off the wall to fall into step next to you.
“Well?” He asked, keeping his voice low and casual.
You relayed the information you’d acquired about the target — a bounty he’d picked up a few days earlier, at another settlement. A raider had wreaked havoc there and killed two in the process, so the families were looking for some justice.
Easy enough to take care of, the ghoul had figured, and all for a decent price. So he’d immediately put you on his trail, as he always did. Much easier for smoothies to be asking questions and actually get some answers — Not everyone tolerated his kind.
You had a few opinions on what to do next, but you kept them to yourself, knowing he wouldn’t want them unless he’d specifically asked. He hummed, the gears in his mind already turning.
You peered at him sideways, wondering what his strategy would be. He didn’t often let you in on them unless it was necessary, but based on what you’d experienced so far, you at least trusted his cleverness.
“Good girl, that’s real useful,” he said finally, seemingly satisfied with what he was coming up with.
He flicked your chin up with his knuckle in what could almost be called affection, but not quite. You carefully hid the secret pleasure you felt at his praise, averting your gaze. Somehow, even at his meanest, he always managed to make it sound so good — at least in the same way a bruise felt good.
Formerly, in your life as a courier, you’d been severely underestimated many times. Traveling alone, especially, had its disadvantages, but it wasn’t brute strength that had so far kept you alive. You were cunning too, in your own way.
Always keenly observant of your surroundings, picking up clues that most would miss. You were generally pretty reserved anyway, preferring to stay quiet and listen. It was easy for you to blend in with your surroundings, seemingly harmless, and people often let their guard down around you. Big mistake on their part.
The ghoul had taken notice of you, though. It had been months ago, at some repurposed saloon further up north, where there was a lot of foot traffic. It was really easy to get jobs there, or exchange information, so you often passed through. As it happened, so did he, and he’d kept an eye out after you initially caught his attention.
Once he’d learned just how useful you’d actually be to him, well… he just couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that. He had a certain way with words, exuding charm, knowing very well how to get what he wanted. Despite most people’s apprehension of ghouls, you didn’t really mind them as long as they weren’t feral and trying to bite your face off.
Clearly, he wasn’t that type. So, you’d made an agreement of sorts with him, splitting the profits sixty-forty for every bounty fulfilled. Easy money, you figured, and some company to boot. More safety in numbers, after all, especially with someone as skilled as him.
But from the get go, he always made it abundantly clear that he was the one calling the shots. There had been no room for argument on that, though strangely enough, you had felt a certain sense of freedom by submitting to it.
The tracking device he’d clasped around your neck soon after was just a little extra precaution, he had said. You had relatively free rein, but still he didn’t let you stray too far. And if you did, then his lasso would work as a makeshift leash to drag you back.
Later on, when you’d developed a system of communication without words – especially for greater distances – you realized it’d felt more like training, in a way. Bending you to his will, sometimes with more charm, others with what he called discipline. And soon enough, after nights of growing closeness and a simmering tension, rewards also came into play.
In the end, it all worked out, and before you knew it, the two of you were running like a well oiled machine. The hunter and his bloodhound.
You started the trek north, taking advantage of the daylight. You kept your eyes peeled for any distinct tracks or other clues. When you saw an old, rundown shack in the near distance, you glanced back at him and then trotted off as soon as he nodded.
Once you’d cleared it, you returned to where he was and continued on your way. Three more times, you checked abandoned buildings, but there was nothing of note in any of them.
The first mini-mart you arrived at turned out to be more useful. The ghoul helped you interrogate a couple of raiders you’d found holing up there. They weren’t very forthcoming at first, but you left the jostling to him, given that it was his specialty.
Soon enough, he managed to knock a couple of answers out of them, and then you were on your way again. You settled in an abandoned, half-collapsed house for the evening, a fire burning before the sun even finished setting.
He sat on the other side of it, silently sharpening his machete, lost in thought. You looked off into the middle distance, unbothered by the quiet. It was a welcome reprieve after a long day, when all you wanted to do was unwind.
But that wasn’t to say it was always easy, even if you were on the brink of exhaustion. Sometimes you just needed a little extra help to get you there.
The ghoul noticed the tense set of your shoulders and your restless shifting. He heard the soft sighs you weren’t even aware you were letting out, short and almost impatient . But what could you possibly be waiting for?
His eyes lingered pensively on the tracking device, like a mark of his ownership, before trailing lower, towards your chest. He licked his lips, a few ideas coming to mind.
“Say… how would you like a little treat for doin’ such a good job today?” He drawled, a roguish grin on his face as one of his hands came to rest heavily on his belt buckle.
Your attention was drawn there, but you quickly looked back up at his face. Instead of giving in to the impulse to nod eagerly, you bit your lip and decided to test the waters just a little bit.
“A treat, hmm?” you said, slightly tilting your head to one side, a sly smile tugging at your lips.
He nodded, adjusting his position lazily, hips bucking. “Oh yes, I’m feelin’ quite generous today, and you’ve earned it.”
This time you couldn’t hide the effect his words had on you, and he chuckled. Truth be told, you’d had this in mind all day, a craving that would not go away until you had him. It was why you’d gone the extra mile, knowing it wouldn’t escape his notice. He’d gotten real good at reading your moods, after all.
“Come sit pretty for me over here, why don’t’cha?” He said and tapped his foot on the ground, spurs jingling softly.
You made your way over to him and knelt at his feet. He bent forward, looming over you, and grasped your chin with a gloved hand.
“Well, ain’t you just the most obedient little thing? I’ve got you well trained, don’t I?” he said, his eyes roaming over your face. “Go on now, get your treat.”
He let go of your face and leaned back, adjusting his hips to bring them closer to you. Your fingers shook only slightly as you deftly undid his belt, then bent your head to undo the zipper with your teeth. There was a low sound of approval in his throat as you tugged his pants down, along with his underwear.
Your mouth watered at the sight of his hardening cock, the head of it lazily resting against his lower abdomen. You were about to curl your fingers around the shaft, but he shook his head.
“No hands,” he said, clicking his tongue. “You don’t need to use your hands anymore.”
You nodded, sticking out your tongue as your head dipped once more. You licked a long, languid stripe up the length of it, making it twitch in response. He sighed a rough good girl as his legs widened to adjust his position, a gloved hand resting on your head.
Your lips wrapped around the tip, teasing it with little flicks of your tongue. He grunted, his hips jutting upwards. Your mouth was warm and wet and inviting as his cock slid inside it with ease. His head tipped back in ecstasy for a moment before he looked back down to watch you take it deeper into your throat.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he said, his voice thick with lust. “I must’ve been real lucky to find such a good lil cocksucker like you.”
You moaned around him, shifting your knees as you felt yourself growing wetter. Your head bobbed up and down at an almost hypnotic pace, hands straining at your sides to keep yourself from using them.
When you reached the base, his cock fully sheathed in your throat, he kept your head down for a moment. You fought the urge to gag, breathing slowly through your nose.
Then he let you come up for air, the lower half of your face a slobbery mess as you panted. Your eyes were glazed over with desire as you looked up at him, and his cock twitched.
“Such a pretty mutt, aren’t’cha? I bet you’re all soaked and ready for me,” he rasped, holding your gaze as your tongue lavished his balls with some attention.
He sucked in a breath through his teeth, feeling himself start to near the edge. But he didn’t want to get there quite yet, and he didn’t want it to be in your mouth this time.
Still, he allowed himself a moment longer, his hand pushing your head to press your face against his cock, hips rocking slightly. Your tongue was still out, trying to catch whatever skin it could, and he let out a deep groan.
“Alright, don’t get too excited now. Turn around and let me take a look.”
You did as told, hastily pulling your pants and underwear down to your knees and presenting yourself for him. You watched him tug his gloves off over your shoulder, appraising you with hungry eyes, and then he knelt behind you.
“My, oh my…” he said as some of your arousal dripped onto the ground. “Just as I thought… Let’s see if she’s ready for me.”
You felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, slowly pushing inside. Eagerly, you pushed your hips back to take more of him, but he stopped you by grabbing your hips.
“Easy, easy,” he chuckled. “You want me to fuck you that bad, huh?”
You nodded, whimpering a little as he thrusted shallowly, stretching you further to accommodate him.
“ Please,” you breathed, your voice broken by desperation, and he pushed your head to the ground.
“It’s cute when you whine like a bitch in heat,” he cooed, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. “Now stay there and take it like the good girl I know y’are.”
Once he was able to fully slide in and out of you with little pushback, his thrusts gradually got faster. You moaned with each rough snap of his hips, deliriously chanting fuck, fuck, fuck under your breath.
He felt impossibly deep at that angle, practically driving you into the ground. One of his hands cracked down on your ass, making you flinch from surprise, your cunt squeezing him hard.
He growled at that, fucking you harder while tugging your hips backwards to meet his thrusts. He was repeatedly hitting a sensitive spot that had your vision going white, eclipsing everything else.
“God damn , this pussy’s so good to me,” he groaned, smacking your ass once more. “You enjoyin’ your treat? Huh?”
“ Yes ,” you gasped, legs kicking slightly at the intensity, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “I-I’m gonna… Can I cum? Please?”
He was pleased that you’d still thought to ask, but he was too keen on pleasing you at that moment to deny you. “Go on, I’ve got you. Come all over my cock.”
The orgasm rocked throughout your body, every one of your muscles taut as you unraveled. His name spilling from your lips as a whimper, something to cling onto. The way your cunt greedily, and oh so sweetly, squeezed his cock then had him right behind you.
A rough, feral sound escaped him as his hips snapped against you one last time, spilling hotly inside of you. Your walls continued to flutter in the aftermath, milking out his own pleasure.
After, he pulled out to get a look at the mess he’d made of you. Hummed with self satisfaction as he saw his spend trickling out of you, like another mark of his ownership.
Your head swam as if you were drunk, but still you smiled at him over your shoulder beatifically. Mischief danced in your eyes, but he’d already known it had been your plan to end up there all along.
“Always so eager to please.” He returned the grin slyly. “Maybe I ought to give you treats more often, if you keep it up.”
Perhaps it hadn’t been his intention, but you took those words as a challenge all the same.
explicit. 18+ only. - 3.3k+ - The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader
content: hurt/comfort (ish), canon-typical violence, blood and injuries, wound care, enemies to lovers vibes, second chance tension, emotional repression, smut
you and the Ghoul have tried to kill each other, forget each other, outrun each other — and failed every time.
There are a lot of intolerable things about the Wasteland. The abominations that slither and skitter from the crevices of irradiated ruin — the bloated, half-melted things that used to be deer or men. The skies that never stay blue for long, always choked with ash or storm or the ghost of a mushroom cloud long since burned away. The land itself is scarred, crumbling underfoot like the bones of something ancient and angry, graffitied with the fingerprints of nuclear sins too old for memory.
But the monsters and the mire, the storms and the rot — that’s not the worst of it.
No, the worst part of the Wasteland?
The people.
Because unlike the scorched earth, they’re the only thing that chose to survive like this. The only ones who could’ve done better, but didn’t. You can’t blame a Radscorpion for being a Radscorpion. But a man who burns a family alive for a can of Cram? That’s a choice.
Then again…maybe that’s generous. Kindness gets you killed. Mercy doesn’t dig graves — it gets buried in them. So maybe there’s no point in judging. Maybe you’ve just learned to stop pretending there’s a good or a bad anymore.
What helps you get through the day-to-day is remembering that moral compasses rust fast in places like this. That every so-called monster used to be somebody’s baby, and that even the devil was probably decent once, before the world got its claws in. In a place like this, “dangerous” counts for more than “evil.” And if that’s the bar…
Then he is the most dangerous thing you’ve ever known.
Which is why your hand trembles when you knock — if the pitiful, dragging tap of your bruised knuckles against his door even qualifies as knocking. The wind howls around you like it knows you shouldn’t be here. Blood slides hot and sticky down your ribs, soaking your shirt, slicking your palm. But the worst part isn’t the pain. It’s the fucking shame of having to come to him. Again.
The hinges creak open with the groan of old metal and older reluctance, just enough for him to look out.
“Let me explain somethin’ to you for the millionth goddamn time,” comes his voice — low, hoarse, and already soaked in irritation. “You ain’t welcome ‘round here no more.”
“Yeah,” you rasp, coughing hard into the crook of your arm. “Yeah, you keep sayin’ that.”
The rain spits harder now, stinging your back, matting your hair to your face. You lean heavier against the doorframe, leaving a smear of blood on the wood. The storm behind you is swelling. And still, you don’t step inside.
“You keep tryin’ to push my buttons,” he says after a moment. There’s something quieter in his voice now. Something puzzled, like he’s trying to figure out what the fuck you want — because it can’t be him. “There a reason for that?”
“They’re fun ones to push,” you mutter. No edge to it. No grin. Just air and exhaustion. And a little bit of truth.
There’s a pause thick as blood.
“Lucky I ain’t tested one of these new shiny guns on your forehead yet,” he grumbles, but the threat feels more like ritual than rage. “Whatchu want?”
You breathe shallowly, swaying where you stand.
“Got into some trouble up north,” you start, tongue leaden in your mouth. “Poking ‘round an old Vault. You know how I do…”
His tone sharpens instantly. “What kinda trouble?”
Before you can answer, there’s a crack behind you — a dry snap of wood or bone, maybe both. You twist with a grunt, blade half-raised, but the motion makes your vision blacken at the edges. You stagger, nearly collapse. Moonlight spills across your face like a spotlight, and you know he sees it now. The state you’re in. The bleeding. The torn shirt. The dust and blood clinging to your lashes like warpaint.
He sees you.
And this time…he doesn’t look away.
The door creaks wider behind you.
“Get in.”
“I —”
“Didn’t ask for you to open your mouth.”
So you don’t. You don’t thank him. You don’t hesitate. You step inside.
The warmth slams into you like a backhand — dry, sour air tinged with scorched whiskey, old gun oil, and the memory of cigarettes long since burned. It’s not clean, but it’s safer than the storm. Safer than out there. You collapse onto the battered couch in the corner, one hand clamped tight over your side, the other gripping the edge of the cushion like it might float you away from the pain.
He crouches beside you, already scanning you like a soldier would a landmine.
“You know who it is?”
You shake your head once, too dizzy for more. “Just…a group of raiders.”
“Raiders in a Vault?”
“Vault’s empty. No Dwellers for years, from the look of it. Just bones and old tech.”
“You shot or stabbed?”
“Stabbed,” you grunt. “Left side. Think they nicked somethin’, maybe.”
“Better hope it wasn’t too deep,” he mutters. “Otherwise you’ll bleed out ‘fore I’m back.”
You don’t ask where he’s going. You don’t need to. You hear his boots stomp off, hear the metallic clatter of him pulling drawers open, rummaging through a field kit.
You lean back. Your vision swims. Your fingers slip from the wound, and the blood comes faster now, warm and wet. You register the soft tink of glass and steel as he prepares something behind you for when he returns — med-x, gauze, tweezers — but you don’t stay conscious long enough to feel any of it when the time comes.
The last thing you hear is his voice, low and irritated, almost too soft to catch.
“Dumbass,” he mutters. “Could’ve died anywhere. But you came here.”
Then everything fades.
The storm outside howls like a dying animal, clawing at the tin walls and the bolted door. Inside, it’s quieter. Not silent — never silent — but the wind becomes background noise, distant behind the low, deliberate rhythm of the Ghoul’s boots on creaking floorboards.
He’s just gotten back.
His coat’s soaked, dark with blood that isn’t his. He reeks of sweat, cordite, and the metallic tang of fresh kill. The kind of scent you don’t mistake — he’s been busy. The kind of busy that ends with bodies cooling in the dark, every last one of those raiders who touched you now a stain in the dust.
He said nothing when he came through the door.
Just dropped his gun on the table — its barrel still warm — then crouched beside you like he hadn’t just walked out into the night to settle a blood debt in your name.
You didn’t hear any of it. You didn’t see the way his fists clenched when he found your blood trail leading from the Vault. Didn’t see what he did to the last one when they tried to run. You were still passed out before he came back, limp and half-soaked on his couch, your blood staining the cushions and your breath coming in shallow gasps.
But he’s here now.
And he’s still angry. Not yelling angry. Quiet angry. The kind that simmers behind his teeth and bleeds into everything he does.
He doesn’t move fast. He never does. Everything about him is methodical, practiced — not out of care, but because he’s had to do this too many damn times to waste energy now. He lays out the cracked metal tray beside the couch: scissors, clamps, thick stained gauze, a bottle of alcohol that smells like it could strip paint. And for a moment, he just stands over you.
His eyes rake over your limp form — torn clothes stuck to your skin, bruises blooming like rot beneath your ribs, the wet shine of blood clinging to your side. You look smaller now. Weaker. Still.
“Fucking idiot,” he mutters under his breath.
He crouches beside you, knees popping, and brushes your shirt up — careful, but only just. The fabric clings, and when he peels it back, it peels wet, strings of blood and cotton coming away like sap. The wound’s not clean. It’s ragged, uneven, an improvised blade if he had to guess. Raiders don’t always stab to kill — they stab to make you bleed out.
He curses and reaches for the med-x. The syringe trembles slightly in his hand before he sticks it in your thigh with practiced ease. You don’t stir. Your lashes flutter once, but you’re too far under to feel it. He watches for signs of breath — just enough movement to know you’re alive — and then gets to work.
Scissors slice through the remaining fabric around the wound. You twitch reflexively, a breath catching in your chest, and his hand flies to your sternum, grounding you with a firm press.
“Easy,” he mutters. “Ain’t no one left to hurt you.”
The moment lingers longer than it should. His hand stays too long. Maybe he’s grounding himself, too.
He cleans the wound with the alcohol first. There’s no ceremony, no tenderness, but his hand doesn’t shake. He wipes away the blood, layer by layer, watching the flesh beneath slowly reveal itself — angry, pulsing, split deep along the edge. A rib might be fractured. Maybe cracked. He’s no doctor. But he’s patched up worse.
He pours more alcohol over it and watches your body twitch again, this time in unconscious protest. Your mouth moves — soundless, lips trembling around something like a name. Not his. Not anything he recognizes.
Something cold knots in his gut.
“Don’t start dyin’ on me now,” he growls, tearing open a packet of thick-threaded sutures. “I just cleaned up the mess.”
The needle bites into your skin. He sews slowly, tightly, with a precision born of violence. You flinch once. He pauses, waits, then continues. When he’s done, the wound is ugly — but closed. The bleeding has mostly stopped.
He wraps you in gauze with the same quiet focus, looping the bandage around your waist, anchoring it tight across your ribs. His fingers linger at your spine, calloused and cold, brushing bare skin before he realizes what the hell he’s doing and pulls away like it burned him.
He stands up.
Wipes his hands on a cloth.
And just…looks at you.
Collapsed against his couch like a dying thing. Bloodless lips parted. Hair matted to your temple, neck streaked with sweat and rainwater. Even now, you manage to look like you’re surviving something you shouldn't have walked away from.
He exhales, rough and low. He looks away fast.
From a rusted cabinet, he pulls a faded wool blanket. Threads it over your form with an awkwardness that makes his jaw tick. Tucks it under your shoulder like he’s done this before — maybe with someone else. Maybe in another life.
Then he crouches beside you again. His elbows on his knees. His voice barely more than gravel and regret.
“You coulda died anywhere,” he mutters. “Coulda gone cryin’ to some idiot in the Brotherhood, or curled up under a bridge.”
His eyes narrow.
“But you came here.”
You don’t respond. You’re still out cold.
But your breathing has steadied. Slowed.
He watches you for another long moment. Then reaches for a cigarette, lights it with a scratched-up lighter, and walks to the window. Stares out into the storm.
Just his silhouette now — rigid shoulders, smoke curling around his jaw, the faint orange glow of ember flickering as the thunder rolls low and close.
Outside, the Wasteland rages on.
Inside, he keeps watch.
The pain wakes you, but it’s the silence that holds you.
It’s not sharp anymore — whatever tore through your side has dulled, smothered beneath bandages soaked in heat and sweat and antiseptic. It’s a thick, pulsing throb now, like your heartbeat's grown teeth and is gnawing slowly at your ribs. Every breath tugs the wound, a tug-of-war between healing and the memory of the blade. You shift — barely — and it drags under your ribs like someone lighting a match against your flesh.
But it’s not the pain that has your attention.
It’s the quiet. Dense. Waiting. The kind of silence that follows gunfire and screams, when the world holds its breath to see who’s still alive. The kind that creeps into old bunkers and burned-out homes and hearts that never stopped breaking. The kind you’ve bled into before.
Light cuts in through rust-scabbed blinds, dust dancing in shafts of gold. Your shirt’s been sliced open, converted into rags held together by scavenger’s thread and a prayer. Dried blood forms brittle ridges down your ribs. A blanket’s tossed haphazard over your legs — threadbare wool, rough as sandpaper, still warm with the ghost of another body. It smells like him. Like the inside of a saddlebag left in the sun — leather, copper, salt, sweat, and a faint trace of gun oil. And under that, something older. Something like regret.
Your mouth tastes like rust and fever. Your lips are cracked.
“How long was I out?” you croak, your voice like gravel dragged across dry stone.
“A day,” comes the reply. Low. Coarse. Familiar.
That voice could find you in a warzone. Could drag you out of hell by the wrist. It carries shrapnel in every syllable, years buried between the pauses.
“Damn it,” you whisper.
“Don’t try it, missy,” he barks, already stepping in before you can sit up. “Didn’t stitch you together for you to fuckin’ unravel right in front of me.”
You blink against the light, your vision swimming. His shape sharpens: arms crossed, boots planted like he’s grown roots. He’s been standing watch — long enough that the dust hasn’t dared settle on him. Your pack’s been emptied and repacked nearby, gear checked. His work, probably. Your blood’s on his hands.
“Can pay you,” you rasp. “For the stitches. And the raiders.”
“Already took my cut,” he says without flinching. “Looted what’s worth looting. Even the twitchy one you left whimperin’.”
Your gaze flicks to the corner, where his bloodied gloves rest beside a half-spent stimpack. Medical gear, half-cleaned. A belt of tools laid out with more care than you’d expect from a man like him.
“Anything from the Vault?”
His jaw tightens. “You still on that fool’s errand, huntin’ for that bullshit?”
“I could ask you the same.”
A beat passes. Something behind his eyes flinches. Something old and buried clawing its way back to the surface.
“Careful,” he says, quieter. Not gentler.
The air thickens — oil in water, smoke in the lungs. Your breath comes shallow under his gaze. Rust-red eyes rake across you, fierce and unrelenting. You swear your pulse skips. His stare could pin a deathclaw. Could undress a memory.
Then: “How’d you know where I was?”
You turn your head slowly toward him. Smile, faint and cracked.
“I always know,” you whisper. “You owe me. You know I keep score.”
He doesn’t move, but something in his face shifts. Like a wire inside him’s gone taut. Memory, maybe. Or guilt with a new name.
“You took everything,” you murmur, voice firm now. “Even what you didn’t need. And then you left me.”
His teeth grit.
“Didn’t seem to take.”
“Guess you’re bad at finishing jobs,” you breathe.
He steps closer, voice dropping into a growl. “Guess you’re bad at stayin’ dead.”
The tension snaps.
You inhale sharply as he closes the distance, the scent of him hitting you like a punch — sunbaked leather, fire-dried sweat, faint whiskey, iron, the Mojave clinging to him like second skin. Everything dangerous and male.
“I never asked you to save me,” you say, barely louder than breath.
“Then why the fuck do I keep doin’ it?” His voice breaks like gunfire — raw, frayed at the edges.
You flinch — but only for a heartbeat.
His hand finds your throat. Not choking. Just there — steady, warm, rough. A warning. A claim. His thumb brushes beneath your jaw, over the pulse that won’t lie.
“You always looked at me like this,” he mutters, eyes locked to yours. “Like you wanted to be ruined.”
“I did,” you whisper. “Still do.”
And then his mouth crashes into yours.
It’s not a kiss. It’s a fucking collision. Teeth scrape, tongues clash, and you feel his desperation in the way he devours you, like he’s been starving for years and only just realized what he lost. His coat’s half-off before you even realize your hands are yanking at it, clumsy and desperate. You want him bare. Want to feel every old scar and sunburnt inch of him under your hands.
The coat drops. Then the gear harness. Then the sweat-stiff shirt. The smell of him hits stronger — dust and blood and heat. You run your fingers over his ribs, over the stories etched into his skin. A brand. A burn. A long-healed bullet wound. He shudders under your touch.
He hesitates when he brushes your side.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, lips against your neck. “That stab wound —”
“I know,” you grit. “Shut up and fuck me anyway.”
His eyes darken.
He strips you bare fast — what’s left of your clothes barely clinging. His hands are calloused and hot and too careful at first.
But you grab his wrist. “Harder,” you snap. “I don’t need soft.”
His pants hit the floor with a thud, and when he kneels between your legs, he’s already hard — thick and flushed, veins standing out, leaking at the tip. He lines up against you and pauses just a second longer.
Then he drives in — slow enough to stretch you, brutal enough to burn.
The breath leaves your lungs in a ragged gasp. Your wound screams for a moment, but it’s dwarfed by the way he fills you, thick and deep and perfect. You arch, bracing your good side against the cot, legs wrapping around his hips to drag him deeper. You want him buried. You want to be wrecked.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he groans, voice all gravel and ruin. “You’re still so tight — feels like you never let go.”
You dig your nails into his shoulders. “I didn’t.”
He moves — hard and fast. The couch jerks beneath you, protesting every thrust, the old springs screaming. You grip the blanket under you, gasping as he fucks you through pain and into pleasure, each movement a brutal rhythm you know by heart.
“You missed this,” he grits. “Missed me.”
“Yeah,” you gasp. “Fuck — yeah.”
He lifts your thigh higher, angling deeper. Hits something inside you that makes you cry out, a raw, needy sound that’s swallowed by the metal walls.
“Say it,” he snarls.
“Cooper —!” you moan, broken and loud.
“That’s right, sugar,” he pants, sweat dripping from his brow. “Ain’t no one else gets you like this.”
He pulls out only to flip you onto your front, careful of your side but ruthless otherwise. Your stab wound flares — but you want the pain. Need it. It’s part of you now. He enters you again, slamming in from behind, one hand gripping your hip, the other at the back of your neck.
You cry out, face pressed to your arm.
“You wanted me like this,” he growls. “Slick, ruined, beggin’ for it. You love when I break you open.”
“I fucking love you,” you gasp, barely even hearing yourself.
He stills for a heartbeat.
Then his thrusts become savage. Messy. Unforgiving. Your name leaves his mouth like a curse. Like a prayer. His groan deepens, hips slamming against you again and again, until he surges forward, buries himself to the hilt, and comes hard — growling, panting, twitching inside you.
You feel the warmth flood into you. The way he stays buried. Possessive.
You’re both shaking.
He collapses onto you, forehead pressed to your spine, both of you sticky and breathless and tangled.
Minutes pass.
“You leavin’ again?” he rasps, voice low and rough like gravel scraping bone.
You shake your head.
He grins — barely, but something dangerous flickers in his eyes, and though you can’t see it, you can feel his grin against your back. “Good. ‘Cause the hell if I’m lettin’ you slip through my fingers again.”
You reach back. Find his hand. Latch your fingers into his like you’re anchoring both your souls.
