#let Bobby have his love

[whatisreggieshortfor]

See Him As a Friend

Here’s a fluffy take on the lie detector test for @litgwritersroom’s prompt.

Bobby x MC

When Lucas read off the text about the lie detector, you could see how nervous the other Islanders got. You couldn’t understand why. This late in the show, they should trust who they’re with or they shouldn’t be with them. You figured it was that simple. Bobby was an open book to you.

Of course when you said as much to the other girls, Lottie had things to say. “Did you forget that he was called a player in the Mean Tweets challenge?”

“Did you forget you didn’t come out of that challenge looking too good either?” You argued, and there was beat of silence as Lottie clearly tried to come up with a retort.

But Marisol cut in, the only girl that never wavered from your side, “Let’s be honest for a minute though, Bobby has only ever had eyes on her. Even when I was in the friendship couple with him, it was obvious where his heart was. I think he was more worried about one of the other boys winning you over than anything else.”

“Same here.” Hope offered, though she clearly wasn’t sure if she really wanted to step in Lottie’s signature drama again, “I’ll always be thankful he saved me from getting dumped so Noah and I could be together, but I can’t see him having eyes for anyone else. In here or out there.”

Chelsea giggled to herself, clearly not sensing the tense air, “You guys should’ve seen his Beach Hut confessions! Literally every single one, no fail. Always Y/N. It was how I knew I’d get on with the two of them so well!” God, you loved your Bra.

You watched with the other Islanders as Gary was mercilessly torn apart by Lottie’s questions, and Bobby looked like he felt terrible just for needing to read them out. You asked Hannah questions for Lucas, and he went miles easier on her in comparison, which wasn’t much of a surprise since they’d only been together for a few days. Noah asked Gary’s questions for Lottie, and you could see the blonde girl feel remorse when his were easy. And it kept going, Lottie asking Jo the questions. Lucas asking Hope. Hannah asking Henrik. Ibrahim asking Chelsea. Henrik asking Ibrahim.

Until eventually, Gary was reading your questions to Bobby. “First question to make sure it’s still functioning like we haven’t been doing this for over a half hour, is your first name Robert?”

Bobby snorted, “Yup.”

Ding.

“Perfect. Okay. First question from Y/N- oh wait hold up this one has a note from Marisol written on the side, am I allowed to read that?” No one from the production team stopped him, so Gary shrugged, “It says ‘I bet you can guess who made her ask this question in under three seconds, and if you get it right I will finally try your hot chocolate.’”

You shared a conspiratorial smile with the law student beside you as Bobby laughed, “Now I’m very intrigued.”

Gary made a big show of clearing his throat, “In the Mean Tweets challenge,” You could already feel Lottie’s glare on you, “Would you consider the one about you being a player to be true?”

“Naw, no way. But nice question, Lottie.” Marisol laughed brazenly beside you as you snickered, waiting until the machine dinged it was the truth.

“Very nice, Bobble. It doesn’t say who the question came from, so I guess when you go out there they’ll tell you if you got it right. Next question, who else in the Villa did you feel a spark with?” Gary looked interested in the answer, but Bobby just grinned at him.

“Nobody.” Ding.

“Not a single girl caught your fancy?” Gary asked, mouth gaping like a fish.

Bobby shook his head, “Nope. Been Y/N for me since day one.”

“Class act, Bobs. Last question, and probably the easiest for you. Ready?”

“Fire away, Gareth.”

“What’s your favorite thing about Y/N?”

“Her butt.” Beeeeeeep.

Gary gasped, “That’s a lie, Bobby!”

“Okay, okay! But the real answer is cheesier.” The Scottish boy grinned, totally unbothered, “Definitely her laugh. Not only is it lovely, but it means my jokes are landing.” Ding.

As soon as he walked out, Bobby planted a big kiss on your cheek, “Had to go makin’ me sound like a melt, didn’t ya, lass?”

You giggled, pressing your lips to his briefly, “Act like you don’t melt for me all the time. Might as well be a popsicle in the sun.” He chuckled as he pulled you into a cuddle.

“So…” he tried to look nonchalant but his eyes were sparkling with mischief, “Did I get it right? Was it Lottie?”

“Yes.” You, Marisol, and Chelsea chirped in unison.

Bobby pumped his fist into the air, “Soon as this is over, I’m making that hot chocolate, Marisol!” You pouted but he just tickled you, “I’ll make you one, too, babe. I’ll always make you some.” You beamed, giggling when the other Islanders voiced their own requests for a cup.

Eventually it was your turn, and you followed Chelsea into the Hideaway. Once you were hooked up, she giggled, “It doesn’t actually give me a starter question. Should I do an obvious one? Like who your best girlfriend is in the Villa? Or a crazy one like were you born in a field?”

You snorted, “I’ll answer both. My best bra is you, Chels. Though Marisol is a close second. And I actually was not born in a field, but my mom has said I was almost born in a barn.” The machine dinged twice in rapid fire.

“Oh! Both true! Though now I wanna hear the barn story…”

“Later, babes.” You grinned, “I promise.” The machine dinged true again and Chelsea clapped her hands before grabbing the question cards.

“Alrighty, babes! Bobby’s first question is…do you genuinely think he’s funny?”

You didn’t even hesitate, “Of course. Funniest person I’ve ever met.” Ding. “His pranks could use some workshopping though.” You winked at the camera as the machine beeped angrily.

Chelsea gasped, hand flying up to her mouth, “You lied! You don’t think his pranks need work.”

You shrugged, still smiling, “Like I said, funniest person.”

“Okay, time for number two!” Chelsea beamed, she made you even more relaxed than you already were about answering these, “Do you still see Bobby as a friend?”

You pursed your lips, contemplating the question in its entirety, “Am I allowed to give an explanation to my answer?” A producer off to the side nodded to you. Back in the observation room, Bobby looked instantly panicked, even as Gary told him he had nothing to worry about. “Okay. Do I see Bobby as a friend? Yes.” Ding. “And I know Bobby, I know that answer is sending him spiraling down a rabbit hole, so Gary! You better make sure he’s paying attention!” Both of their heads snapped to the screen as you cleared your throat. You continued seriously, but your smile never left, “From day one, Bobby has made me feel comfortable. Literally. He was willing to sleep on the daybeds if I didn’t feel up to sharing the bed, and he always knows what to do when something goes wrong. He’s not just my best friend-“ Chelsea grunted, and you amended, “He’s not just my best male friend, he’s my person. When I need a laugh, he always has a joke ready. When I need to cry, he’s offering his shoulder. He’s there to relax, he’s there to goof around, he’s there for the drama, and he’s been there for every moment between them. So yeah, he’s my best friend. But he’s more than that, too.”

Chelsea leaned forward, watching the machine anxiously, and when the sound came out and the light came on, she was already shouting, “That was the truth! Aw, babes, that was beautiful. Keep it in mind for this last one. It’s the biggest.” Your eyes widened, what could be bigger than he’s biggest insecurity about being here? Chelsea held the card up, covering her face because she knew your answer would make her happy cry, “If Bobby told you he loved you, would you be able to say it back and mean it?”

“Absolutely.” Not even a second of time between the end of the question and your answer, and the responding ding reverberated through the air as Chelsea started fanning her eyes.

“Dammit babes! I knew I’d cry!”

Making your way out with Chelsea, you suddenly had the air knocked from your lungs as a body collided with yours, picking you up and sweeping you through the air. Once your feet were back on solid ground, you met Bobby’s teary eyes, “Lass,” his voice was breathy, almost filled with the laughter you loved so much, “Y/N, I-“

You slapped a hand over his mouth, shaking your head at his confusion, eyes darting around to the very visibly interested Islanders that weren’t even pretending to look away, “Not right now. Not in front of everyone. I want it to be a moment for us.”

His eyes somehow softened even more, and he slowly pulled your hand away, “Okay, lass. I’ll leave it up to you then.”

The next morning, the two of you were having an early breakfast while the other Islanders took a lie in. Just watching the sun rise, enjoying pastries Bobby took the extra care to make for everyone, his fingers on one hand drawing lazy circles on your thighs as you relaxed in the beanbags together with your legs thrown in his lap. “Hey, Bobble?”

He hummed, eyes peeking open to take a glance at you, watching the barely hidden excitement that was practically rolling off of you. “What’s up? You get a text or something?”

Shaking your head, you gave him a gentle smile, “I love you, Bobby.”

His face went blank, mouth falling open, before his lips stretched into his widest smile as he tugged you closer by the waist, punctuating each word with a kiss to your face, “I-“ your cheek, “love-“ your forehead, “you-“ your nose. “I love you, lass.” Finally your lips.

Masterlist

#litg bobby #litg season 2 #litg fanfic #litg Bobby x mc #lie detector #just fluff #let Bobby have his love #boy is always stuck in friendship couples

[buck-up-buck]

7x09 is titled "Unfinished Business" ....

Tell me that is not a revenge plot against Bobby. TELL ME. You can't. If I was not convinced before, I AM NOW.

hErE mE oUt.

I'm not saying they are going to burn down Buck's loft, I AM NOT... BUT, imagine Bobby is dropping a patient off at the hospital with Hen and Chim (I know this hardly ever happens but roll with me guys), and our friend, the Burn Unit Nurse, sees him, and is like...

"Bobby?" BECAUSE, he recognises him, from all those years ago in Minnesota. He lived in Bobby's apartment complex, they were somewhat neighbours, and he saw Bobby go into that vacant apartment that night (the night we do not DARE talk about), on his way to work, and was working a night shift at the hospital when suddenly, they get an influx of patients with burns and smoke inhalation from an apartment fire downtown, and he hears in passing from a nurse the address, and his heart sinks because no his fiance was at home asleep at that address and he hears from someone a few weeks later that the fire started in a vacant room due to an electrical issue with a space heater and HE JUST KNOWS.

And Bobby turns around to face him and is like "Sorry, do I know you?" Because Bobby was going through it back then, he doesn't remember this guy, and the guy is like, "Sorry, no, I was mistaken." And he walks away leaving Bobby all like huh.

Then the episode ends with the truck pulling into the firehouse and the camera pans out and we see BURN UNIT NURSE GUY STOOD ACROSS THE ROAD STARING UP AT THE FIREHOUSE BECAUSE DUN DUN DUN- He has some Unfinished Business to attend to.

If this so happens to lead to the burning down of Buck's loft because this guy does his research and he does some stalking and he sees a connection that Bobby has with Buck that he doesn't seem to share with the other members of the team, then well, ya'll didn't see it here first but I fucking called it if so, because you're telling me that is not a CRAZY storyline right there.

BUT, even if not, even if we do not get our beloved loft burning down scene that we have been writing and praying for on Fanfiction for years, you cannot tell me that there is not going to be some kind of dark revenge plot going on in the last four episodes. This nurse is about to cause some HAVOC I CAN SENSE IT. MY SPIDEY SENSES ARE TINGLING GUYS.

Anyway, @whollyjoly and @thetangycheesemanwithaplan had the absolute joy of hearing this from a very sleep-deprived me last week and now that the episode titles have been released, Buck's loft burning down and Burn Unit Nurses revenge plot is going to be my new personality trait. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU.

#Thank you for coming to my ted talk #911 #911 spoilers #season seven #season seven spec #i am talking about burning bucks loft down again #unfinished business #are you kidding me #this SCREAMS revenge plot #evan buckley #bobby nash #bobbys past is about to come bite him in the ass guys I CAN SMELL IT #we love giving our favourite characters more TRAUMA #as if bobby hasn't been through enough guys GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK #first you sink his cruise ship then you burn his sons loft down #sksksks how RUDE #LETS GO PEOPLE #am I god? #am i right with this? #if the episodes would just AIR THEN WE WOULD KNOW WOULDNT WE #tim minear get on this shit #this is good soup right here #get me in the writers room #i have a creative writing degree and i am not afraid to use her #tim minear hire me please #i love you #tim #minear #tim minear #gonna tag him again cause we know he lurks on Tumblr we know he does

[lover-of-mine]

Sevenish Sentence Sunday!

I was tagged by @try-set-me-on-fire @eddiebabygirldiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @wikiangela @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @jesuisici33 @rainbow-nerdss thank you 💜

Have some more of the Buck proposes to Natalia fic because i really like this bit even if this is on Eddie's pov just because Buck refused to let me get into his head for the actual fight because i really do like my tragically pining Eddie povs prev snippet

You need to move on. I have.  Eddie doesn't know why he's thinking about that now. But he feels the same way he did in his kitchen trying to pretend he could feel like a normal human again if he just made it through a couple more days while Buck kept trying to get him to stop lying.  Buck always knows when to call bullshit on what Eddie's saying.  Buck's gonna call bullshit now.  Eddie can see it in his eyes.  And it's weird because Buck is never the one to pick a fight.  But there's a fire in his gaze that leaves Eddie scared, if he's truly honest.  Maybe he won't have to make it through the wedding because it seems like everything is about to crash and burn right now. 

No pressure tagging 🩷: @sherlockcrossing @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @giddyupbuck @captain-hen @wildlife4life and you if you have something to share 💜💜

#writing #911 wip #buddie wip #anon made me do it fic #seven sentence sunday #buck picks a FIGHT #like dude is not holding back and he did not let get into his head #but this did allow me to play a bit with Eddie moving shifts #i didnt have to have someone tell buck i just wrote eddie talking with bobby #something about this fic is the only one who doesn't know eddie is in love him #actually is unclear is chim /knows/ #Hen has confirmation because Eddie told Karen #Bobby just knows in his Bobby way #im going back and forth with chris #i dont wanna bring him into the fight but he's old enough to want answers as to why eddie and buck are fighting and buck is not #allowed in the house anymore #so like #this fic is a monster lol #i love it koaksaoksoaks #go drama

[zappedbyzabka]

“I’ll be disqualified!”

#these aren’t the best but #:(((((( #How he apologized😭 #My son #Is that chest hair? #His lips are so plush #We didn’t get to see the others feelings about the situation much #But at the very least Bobby and Johnny should have ran out holding hands idc #I wish they all got away quicker #bobby brown #the karate kid #I love them sm #And Bobby deserves to have his red riding leader as much as Daniel deserves Johnny #let him make out with him sat on his bike with those nice lips. Better yet let him get a hug and smooch from all the Cobras #ot5 bc I know they got an apartment all together in another universe and they understand each other and nothing hurts

[zeb-z]

roier put up that photo because he doesn’t believe cellbit is gone. a bit of his own amusement, but also entirely for cellbit’s, because as much as he got a little giggle out of it, that’ll be something that will make his husband full stop even out of his angst mode and he’ll have to try not to laugh. because roier knows his husband, and that’s his castle too, and why not make a small silly change? easier to pretend like it’s a joke, and he isn’t missing his husband. because surely he survived. and he’ll see that stupid dog photo after having survived against all odds, and laugh with roier as if he hadn’t been gone in the first place.

#I’m a Roier defender until the day I die and lets be honest it was objectively hilarious. I love that stupid photo of the dog he’s got lmfa #Roier did what Roier does best - avoid his feelings through humor #and like it’s half him coping to because as much as he’s like ‘no. Cellbit would Not Die Like This’ it’s like. he’s not back yet. #the way he didn’t touch anything in their room. didn’t move foolish’s message (because foolish also didn’t make it). how he went yeah they #may be gone. but jose isn’t! and pulled him out like he usually does to make tense moments easy again. but this time entirely just for him #he doesn’t spend long at the castle. easier to focus on a loss that’s concrete - Bobby’s city and the decorations. that’s in front of him #and it’s also something he can fix. as arduous as the process is he can fix that. he doesn’t have the power to do anything about his husban #or his son or his father or his sister #Cellbit and Richas being gone isn’t something he can fix or handle so he won’t. surely they’ll be back and see that dumbass dog and laugh #idk. Roier you silly tragic man I will defend you from all of Twitter lfjsjdkskfje #mcyt #qsmp #q!roier #z speaks

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Ok well now I do have a follow up idea for that last bthb

#itd be bobby wanting to reach out to his brother and dad and being scared to do so and talking to eddie about it #while buck and eddie are getting engaged and planning their wedding #hed talk to his brother first which wouldn't go well but eventually the brother would let him talk to his dad #which would go better #and bobbys like fuck why did i decide to do this now in the middle of all this happy stuff going on #and eddies like i dunno man its probably nice to have the happy stuff to fall back on? #we're all here for you. we all love you. im glad youre in my life. im glad you're going to be sort of my father in law now? #then he gets to watch his kid get married and probably cries a lot. but good crying maybe. #he said he'd send along pictures to his dad. he thinks he got some good ones.

[lovecolibri]

I know I talked about a "near the dock" cruise ship disaster would be a great opening because the firefam could help with the rescue and run into Bobby and Athena but also, I kinda think a ship crash/lost at sea story could be fun to have everyone THINKING Bobby is dead so we get some MCD angst from the mains but we see him and a few survivors together and eventually getting rescued. I just think it would be delicious and after this season said Bobby is Buck's dad and then did fuck all with it after that, it would be nice to have Buck just absolutely lost and I would love to see Athena lose it a little bit too and them supporting each other, and then finding Bobby and giving us more momemts like when Bobby was exposed to radiation and Buck was worried about him but dialed up to 10.

Bonus points if his gf *tries* to help but we already know she's got zero empathy about death and Buck realizes it's not what he wants and we never have to think about that again.

#911 #911 spoilers #evan buckley #bobby nash #you can't drop that he's bobby's son and then not let him take buck home from the hospital or see him during his recovery #or let them have any conversations after that moment #also i desperately need something for bobby to do and i ADORE the angst of a big death only to get to have the joy of them being okay #fuck mcd i don't want it but i DO want the characters to occasionally think they are gonna die or someone they love did #remember that vm hen left for karen in s2? instant chills #more of that but always let them be okay

[littlespoonevan]

buck made the best decision of his life in 2x04 by deciding to do everything he could to support eddie and christopher while also starting to realise it’s time to let go of abby and then proceeded to make terrible choices in every episode 4 that’s followed that lmao

#3x04: let me file a lawsuit against bobby and the lafd bc i want to go back to work #4x04: let me stay inside this burning building that's about to explode #5x04: i'm not gonna tell chimney where maddie is #6x04: i'm gonna be a sperm donor even though the idea of having a child out there that's a part of me might kill me #oh babe :(((((((((( #get this man a hug and some therapy and some words of affirmation stat #this is not a criticism i love him!!!!! but y'know episode 4 really is his struggle ep with the exception of 2x04 #911 related

[donde-el-diablo-parquea-la-moto]

Just personal thoughts about Bobby's... Goodbye today.

#qsmp #his death was justified by his recklessness #it hurts. it feels unfair. it is sad #but its also like something that would happen. bad things happen all the time and people that don't deserve it die. #in a way bobby chose this #and im actually glad that it was his adventurous soul that took him from us rather than the immortal code #because even when its really sad. at least we know that he died doing what he liked the most #that being said. #Roier was so brave for Jaiden. he cares so much about her. he loves his family SO MUCH. he knows there's nothing else to do and STILL #mi hermano. me rompió el corazón verlo aguantarse las lágrimas y como dijo. es el rol pero de verdad estoy triste #Jaiden. my god jaiden was so brave too. i cant imagine the pain of losing someone so loved. of having to LET GO. even when you know #you know they are there. so close and yet unreachable #la familia mas bonita del qsmp les queda pequeño. de verdad que demostraron una fuerza y un amor inigualables #y Bobby. nuestro bobby chingón. le robaste el corazón a todos en el server. le robaste el corazón a miles de personas #no voy a ver un Bobberol de la misma forma nunca. eres un huevito maravilloso. gracias por todo

[gh-0-stcup]

That CBGB story was wonderful and I loved it. But Dean...did John raise you right? Did he??? Because you have about 7 million different issues and like 90% of them are John freaking Winchester-related.

#spn #spn s10 #i just wish the show would have the balls to admit that john was a bad parent who seriously fucked up his kids #rather than continually going the yeaah maybe he's not any winning awards but he did his best #and most of it was kind of necessary anyway route #like no he was a shit father #i'm not vehemently anti john but let's just acknowledge the facts here #i'm sure he loved his kids but he fucked them up and it didn't have to be like that #ellen and bobby are good counterpoints to most defenses of john's parenting #why not go the i wouldn't be the man i am today without him route #which acknowledges both the good and the harm john did to his sons #10x09 the things we left behind

[phoenixiancrystallist]

"You've flowers in your hair," Astra said, and Susurrus turned to her, a wide grin on his face.

"A helm fit only for the bravest and most noble of warriors, milady," he said, melodramatic and overflowing with delight. The child riding on his shoulders giggled as she wove yet another blossom into his coppery locks. Astra found herself staring, in part admiring the contrast of the delicate, slightly squished blooms against the regal lines and planes of his handsome face. And yet, she also found herself captivated by the way he interacted with the children. Susurrus was the most powerful combative mage in the armies under her command, ruthless and efficient on the battlefield. Yet here he was, children dangling off of him and a smile fit to outshine the sun swallowing his hazel eyes.

Another child hit him at the knees and he tumbled, careful and controlled so as not to harm the little ones that clung to his arms. Astra did not see how it was done, but despite no less than two gangly, uncoordinated bodies weighing each limb down, Susurrus managed to flip the child riding his shoulders so that she landed on his chest. His rich, sonorous laughter rang around the plaza like bells, accompanied by the raucous laughter of the children.

"I've been felled!" Susurrus said through his laughter, and the young lad who'd downed him leapt onto him, a battle cry in his throat that sent the other children scrambling. "Have mercy, have mercy!"

Astra found herself giggling as the other children ran past her, dispersing themselves around the plaza and hiding in garden beds and flowering bushes to prepare for a merry game of chase. But she had need of Susurrus, and so clapped her hands to get the children's collective attention focused on her.

"Come along now," she said, "don't you all have lessons to attend?"

The unanimous whine that met her words forced her to smother a smile. But a stern glance from Susurrus sent them scattering to the winds, off to seek some other entertainment for the day. Astra offered her hands to Susurrus to help him up, marveled at the warmth and gentleness in them belied by the rough calluses and scars he'd earned through battle.

"Bad news?" he asked, running his fingers through his hair. Each flower dislodged was gathered and carefully cradled in his free hand, held tenderly so as not to crush them.

"Nothing we hadn't anticipated," Astra assured him, even as her eyes tracked a delicate, yellow, star-shaped blossom. He noticed her attention on the bloom, and reached out to tuck it behind her ear. Though the gentle smile he gave her held a hint of harsh steel underneath, Astra breathed easier to see it.

#WIPpets (WIP snippets) #bobbi's being weird again #forspoken #forspoken fanfic #forspoken susurrus #first tanta #forspoken oc #forspoken original character #oc: astra #Astra is the First Tanta #in case that previous post of mine was missed #so that makes her technically an OC but technically not an OC #fleshed out minor canon characters ftw #also Rheddah is in civil war and Astra is leading the people trying to break from Rheddah that will eventually become Athia #and Susurrus is going to have a way worse time than he's having here by the time I'm done :P #you're not seeing much of his personality here; it's more focusing on Astra and how she sees him #also he's putting on a bit of a show for the kids #also also his name might not stay Susurrus for this but it makes a handy-dandy placeholder for now #I don't imagine the Rheddig would let him KEEP his name when they rip him from everyone he loves and sacrifice him to make a weapon #(I didn't technically break my promise to @radiantgarden! I am indeed posting this after I made and consumed dinner!!! #I'm just... I got distracted drawing Demyx XD)

[sharkneto]

I’m now internally chanting “ROB AND SARAH HOLIDAYS!” Obviously no pressure to write things you don’t want to write. But just know that I would be here to devour anything you do write on it lol

ah, how much you guys like my blorbos never fails to warm my heart and make me so soft. my running joke with @non-plutonian-druid is that any idea i say i'm Not Writing eventually does get written. So, I'm not writing the holiday fic, but i'm not not writing it either lol, If the amount of brainstorming that has gone into it to build Rob's stupidly large family is any indication.

the thing is, if i do write this fic (which... is not going to be short. I know myself. this would end up at like 30k), where do i post it. where does it go. it's practically original fiction at this point. i feel weird posting it in umbrella academy fanfic. five is barely there. it's just my homemade blorbos. plus eleven more homemade blorbos and their intricate relationships that really all come together to make sarah miserable

#she tolerates because she loves her husband and they don't actually see his family that often outside of the holidays #let me ramble in these tags now #in a completely nonsensical order #rob is the youngest of three by a significant amount (decade younger than his oldest brother and 7 years younger than his sister) #his siblings both have kids and the oldest of those kids are just starting to get old enough to have kids of their own #sarah and rob's mom do /not/ get along and that's not sarah's fault #rob's doctor handwriting has never been relevant in hit or jt but is a running joke in this #sarah is the only person who can read it. this sometimes does include rob #the most cursed thing is that rob is bobby to his family and sarah Hates That. so much that she can't even joke about it #five either comes in because he hangs out with sarah in a grocery store parking lot while she's taking a break from all the walters #or he ends up getting sucked into being at the house when they're all also there #one of these is significantly more fun but my god does it add even more dynamics to figure out #anyway. tidbits. #the major sticking point in me actually writing this rather than just having Way Too Much Fun thinking about it #is that it does require a lot of intricate familial relationships that i do not have experience with #so i gotta go off vibes. bits i glean from watching friends interact with their families. and tv #ficblogging #a blorbo christmas #i should have a rob tag #sarah #yeah i've thought about this just A Little Bit

[gingerwerk]

Rewatching Bobby begins again for the 50th time and I really do think Bobby is my favorite character on 911

#his story is just so important to me and it doesn’t hurt that Peter Krause be acting his pussy off every scene he’s inn #but him in s1 going from making a list of people he’s saved so that once he cancels out the lives he accidentally took he’ll kill himself #to accepting he not only deserves to live and has so much more to offer to the world but he also deserves to enjoy life and be happy #Bobby in s2 kinda walking on eggshells around Harry and may and Michael because he doesn’t want to overstep #and he also doesn’t feel like he has a right to say or do anything #Bobby’s ‘I’m no body’s father’ in s2 #to Harry saying he was gonna have 3 dads and may saying he’s her dad in s5 #to may saying that Athena brought 2 kids into the marriage and he brought buck #🥺 #Bobby reaching out the the drunk driver who caused the accident and trying to help her recover #Bobby being a character who almost let all his darkness and pain consume him but instead he’s able to move on #and be a beacon of life and love and happiness and support for everyone in his life 🥲 #anyways I love Robert Wayne Nash with my whole heart #Kelly watches 911

[zappedbyzabka]

Boysssssss

#GET HIS ASS TOMMY #The first gif. Jimmy and Bobby like ‘Oh yeah thats hot. thats hot’ #Love how Jimmy helped Bobby❤️ #The way Jimmy grabbed the back of that guy’s neck gets to meee #Bobby slayed so damn hard. He really was just like ‘let me be Chuck Norris’ #Little salty they had Johnny get in the traumatic chokehold but didn’t show a Cobra coming to his rescue #Come on guys really #You’re telling me that wouldnt have awoken some sort of trauma causing them to go a little too hard on the guy that choked him? #shout out to the pretty lady that slid him the glass #og cobras

[werewoofs]

steven yeun really put his whole bussy into that church singing scene in beef huh

#bite.txt #tht show does not let up for a second im still in shock from certain shit just being insanely random #beef #fucked it UP he did #that and the elevator scene on repeat n my mind rent free #also no explanation for her 8 months later after the fire why you do that did he die after u laid down on him n the hospital did you suffoc #suffocate him LMAO #i was really expecting them to fuck on the hallucinogen berries honestly they got too close one point they really shoulda i also #expected her to suck his dick in the hospital i swear to god thot shed ride it too and that coulda killed him which would #be the only explanation acceptable for her 8 months after the fire #tbis show has me fucked up in an unexplainable way #they should have put bobby lee in it like cmon andrew santino was there #editing for one last tag the lesbian relationship was COMPLETELY random like there was ZERO chemistry/connection of any kind #between boss and employee just love that but then the elevator scene just. and the THIS IS WHO YOU WANNA LEAVE ME FOR?

[ghoulphile]

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position. 

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.” 

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

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