#squish that ghoul

[midnight-moth]

May I ask for Rain and Dew absolutely smothering Phantom because his anxiety is acting up really bad and the dp helps calm him down

I haven't just written something inside of tumblr without even opening a doc in a long time. Let's give it a go! 1100 ish words of Phantom having a meltdown, Rain and Dew being sweet. And maybe Dew having secret perv thoughts. Also everyone always puts cute or pretty gifs in their writing. Well I feel this one works.

"Where's Phantom?"

"I don't know, actually. Where is he?" Dew craned his neck from his seat on the edge of a folding chair, his eyes drifted away from the knot he was trying to pick out of his laces to Rain's face, creased with worry.

"I'm sure he's around? I mean, he can't have gone far." Words meant to self-soothe but they weren't doing a particularly good job. Rain's legs were already absentmindedly directing him toward the labyrinth of hallways.

"You wanna go look? I wanna go look." 

Rain gave Dew a small smile, a silent thank you for taking his worries and making them his own. For not making Rain ask him to go searching for Phantom, for not making him feel like he was concerned about nothing.

For not making Rain explain again that he was worried about the new summon; that despite appearances and reassurances, Rain saw the raw skin beside his thumbnails, the bruised circles carved beneath his eyes, the food he pushed around his plate but never into his mouth.

All of them were nervous, Papa was nervous. It was their first ritual together, at least with this iteration of the band. One without the steadying presence of Aether, the calming comportment of Sunny.

Dew abandoned the knot in his laces and followed Rain out of the greenroom, leaving the various satellite groups of crew and ghoul alike to continue eating, talking, vibrating with excitement about kicking off the tour. 

They weaved in and out of the hallway snaking to the rear of the building, still short one quintessence Ghoul and running out of hiding places.The clack of heeled boots finally revealed his location.

“Hey, what’re you doing back here?” Here being a darkened stairwell that led to the catwalks up above the stage.

Whether Phantom heard Dew’s voice or their approach, they weren’t sure. He didn’t react. He just kept up his pacing, 3 steps forward, 5 steps across, 3 steps back, 5 steps over, around and around and around. 

Dew, watching him move in the small space felt his own head spinning with vertigo eventually and tore his eyes away to look at Rain, who stood frozen, his arm halfway extended, as if he were about to stop Phantom in his tracks. 

“Hey bug, you’re gonna wear holes in your soles. Why don’t you slow down a little?” Phantom’s eyes flit up to Dew’s and then fell back on the toes of his shiny new boots. He did however finally stop moving. 

Neither Dew nor Rain were really sure what to do. Neither had really made progress in getting to know the ghoul. What they saw during practice, a charismatic ghoul who was little bit goofy, but also full of joy, had yet to reveal itself in alternate scenary. 

“Are you nervous? That’s okay. It’s normal. We all were, and we still are.” Rain took small steps toward him as he spoke, he half expected Phantom to arch his back and howl like a scared cat. 

Phantom wanted to answer them, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that if he opened his mouth, all of his insides would come spewing out. Not the contents of his stomach, his lungs, his heart, his spine. He felt like his silence was the only thing keeping his body glued together. Even then he felt the bonds weakening when he looked up at the concerned ghouls in front of him.

“You don’t have to speak. Just - if there’s anything we can do, can you nod?” 

Phantom considered whether he could do as Dew asked, whether communicating with him would cause everything to spiral out of control. Whether it would disturb the peace he’d made with that square meter of concrete in the back of the venue.

He nodded slowly, eyebrows quirking up in surprise that in fact, the ground beneath his feet had not shifted or crumbled. 

“Good. Okay, do you want water?” No.

“Food?” No.

“Do you want anyone other than us?” No

“Do you want to go outside?” No.

Guilt began to tear at the threads of reality Phantom had clung to since finding the quiet space. Rain and Dew watched him wring his hands in consternation, subconsciously mimicking him, Dew twisted his fingers together, feeling like they were failing him.

“Do you want a hug?” Rain’s voice made them both jump a little. 

Phantom nodded his head in affirmation and Rain felt the coil twisting in his chest loosen a little. 

Neither had really touched the ghoul, and once again they approached him as they would a feral cat, all but sticking their hands under his nose for him to sniff. Not that they were afraid he would bite or claw, they were afraid he would run.

Rain reached out first, wrapping his arms around Phantom’s tense shoulders, loose, and hopefully non-threatening. Still he felt the ghoul tense under his touch. 

Dew reached for his arm, a barely there pat to his bicep, and the ghoul visibly cringed.

“We’re sorry, you can change your mind. I don’t know - we can get Swiss, or Cirrus, or Papa.”

“No”, His voice came out as a croak, his throat dry and tight from his panic induced fugue. 

“What can we do?” 

“Just - you can touch me, but harder. I dunno why. When I feel - like this, those light touches make my skin crawl. I’m sorry - s’not your fault. I don’t - I don’t -”

“Ah.” Rain nodded. Dew was the same, whether he was upset, sad, anxious, he hated gentle, soft. He wanted heavy and solid. 

“It’s okay, I’ll be okay.” Phantom mumbled, feet angling to resume the pattern he’d been wearing into the floor.

Instead, Rain grasped him firmly by the wrists and led him to the wall, pulling the ghoul into his lap and into a most crushing hug, reinforced by Dew, wrapping his arms around the other half of his body. 

They both felt him sag and droop a little. 

“Better?”

Phantom gave them a barely-there nod, as best he could manage with the limited range of movement. Even as compressed as he was, he felt like his lungs were finally able to take in a satisfying amount of air.

“Don’t worry, we have lots of time. Hours in fact.”

Phantom nodded against Rain’s shoulder, beginning to doze off. The two tails snaking around his torso and the rumbling purrs of their owners nudged him over the edge.

“Is he asleep?” Dew whispered.

“Yeah. He’s drooling on me. Reminds me of someone.”

“Shut up. - Hey, if he likes this maybe he’ll like that other thing you do.”

“One step at a time.”

As Phantom’s mind swam between the conscious and unconscious world, he wondered what the other thing was. 

#sorry if there are typos I am so sleepy #squish that ghoul #also this is me if someone tries to touch me lightly while I am v anxious or having a panic attack I will throw up #I dont know what it is I hate it sooooo much #again sorry this took so long I will slowly make my way through the asks #phantom ghoul #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #midnight moth asks #midnight moth writes #the band ghost fanfiction #i can't help but see that you said DP instead of DPT and well you know what i'm thinking about #that wouldve been very different story #cw anxiety #cw panic attack

[nastylittleghouls]

His voice. His accent. His smile. I'm fine.

cred: sunshine_ghoul on twt.

#Hayden Scott #unmasked ghouls #*squishing him* #HE IS SO

[ghouljams]

I feel physically ill over the "you always come find me" I'm actually hurling I cried so hard she's so just like me fr you've done it again I needed to get emergency surgery from the amount of damage you did to me actually

:0

>:)

That line was actually the first thing I wrote for that drabble! It ran through my head for a few hours before I actually could get it on paper, and felt like the most important part of the drabble. Soap does always go to find Moon! She's his first priority, he will always go after her. He gravitates towards her, he's clingy, and Moon is very much pushing at his face to keep him from smothering her because he just wants to lay on top of her. A feral cat of a person dealing with the human equivalent of a wolfhound. She's getting squished and she is attempting to flee, but Soap will follow her because that's his job.

#ghoul speaks #hes gonna keep squishing her too #it doesnt matter how big Soap's partner is hes gonna try and squish ya #moon is loosely based off my sister but dont tell her that

[moony-ghoul]

wtf

#unmasked ghouls #i wanna squish him into cube

[mac-and-thefox]

Dew: *wandering around in his giant blanket hoodie, minding his business*

Swiss: *Jumps out from behind a door* SURPRISE SQUISHES!!!!

Dew: *SHREIKKKKK*

Swiss: *catches Dew in a massive squeezy hug, starts swinging him around*

I shall name him Squishy, and he shall be mine, and he shall be my Squishy

Dew: *feral cat sounds*

#mac's thoughts #shitghosting #squish the squishy #ghoul headcannons

[eletainart]

Beefy boy, handsome guy, big fella, my beloved!

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #shitghosting #ghost bc #my art #artists on tumblr #i love him so so so so much #also i never draw anyone looking more genuinely happy than Aeth here #i wanna smooch and squish him so bad

[feralghxuls]

ghoul pile in the ghoulette's room (its the biggest, & has the biggest nestbed, they commandeered a rec room) when its cold and snowy/rainy outside, big fire in the hearth, u can hear the purring from the hallway <3

#the band ghost #ghoul headcanons #also stratus is on the bottom btw. that ghoulie LOVES getting smushed #she insists on stacking mountain and aether on top of each other on top of her #mountain is used to this but aether gets nervous every time theyre gonna squish her #and shes like YEAH that's the POINT now come on #the other ghouls that really enjoy being smushed flat are swiss and dew #dew never asks to be on the bottom tho. he just growls at stratus until cumulus & cirrus flop on top of him #rain doesnt like being Under too many ghoulies but he does really enjoy being squished between them #got carried away in the tags lol #dorito.txt #dorito hc hours

[i--tell--him--real]

TG S01e11, 13:26.

I’ve completely forgotten how ADORABLE he sounds here. Thank me later.

#he sounds so cute like i wanna squish his cheeks and kiss him all over his face #he is so SMOL #SMOL BABY #juuzou suzuya #tokyo ghoul

[shrupdedup]

No more riveting. No foam things to sew. We're almost there!

#pardon the lopsided look in some of the pics i squished her a lil before photos #ghost band #nameless ghouls #cosplay

[macroglossum]

New child just dropped!

#born of a warmup doodle i got too attached to #now i need to draw them properly too #they do be a critter #needs to be squished #mite ghoul #ghoul oc #nameless ghoul #nameless ghoul oc #my art #ghost

[dahldahlbills]

ken kaneki is so baby i desperately need to give him a hug

#tokyo ghoul #ken kaneki #i need to squish his cheeks #finished reading the first series and I am in shambles

[divine-misfortune]

I think Rain is alarmingly good at playing all the titles in the soulsborne series

#lemme just squish my fixations together dont mind mr #ghoul hc #void rambles

[ghouljams]

thinking about cowboy ghost babies..... ghoul loml write whatever you want about those two ill read and reread it idgaf

chubby ghost babies....

(my cousin gave birth like 3 weeks ago and its still giving me baby fever.)

The biggest babiessss, I love thinking about Ghost's sausage-y babies. When the man said he wanted to have stupid fat babies with Goose he meant it, those babies are so chubby. Here's some baby fic.

You push Simon's legs out of the way as you sit on the couch. He's made himself comfy laid out over the length of it, your daughter is settled against his chest, sleeping just like her daddy. You don't think the baby has touched the ground once since she was born, someone is always holding her. You've even had to sway Simon away from co-sleeping, something that clearly hasn't taken.

You reach to tickle your fingers against the baby's back, she hardly squirms at the touch. Simon cracks on of his eyes open at the slightest twitch, settles a big hand over her back to keep her quiet. Already a daddy's girl, you think.

"Having a good nap?" you grin, watching Simon shift to make a sliver of room for you. You eagerly squish yourself between him and the back of the couch. His arm wraps around you, keeping you held impossibly close. His whole world in his arms.

"Just got a lot better," he mumbles, letting out a quiet huff as you make yourself comfortable. You pinch her chubby arm, feeling Simon shift to kiss the top of your head. She looks like a balloon animal, like a sausage shaped like a baby. It’s adorable. She's the prettiest little thing you've ever seen, so soft and sweet you can't believe she came from you.

You watch her yawn, little nose pinching in a way that makes you want to pop out a million more of her. Simon hums, strokes her cheek with a gentle finger. Even with as big as your baby is, she's still tiny compared to her father. Something you know makes Simon anxious, such a little thing under his protective care. You can't help feeling something similar.

Babies are so fragile. You worry over every little sniffle and sneeze, every scrunch faced cry, even things she hasn't done yet. She can't even roll over but you find yourself worrying about her walking.

"Do you think we're good parents?" You whisper ask. Simon lets out a big breath, you can feel the rise and fall of it, see the way it moves the baby on his chest.

"Fuck no," he grumbles, "you use murder ballads as lullabies."

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost x reader #ghost x oc #simon ghost riley x oc #simon riley x reader #simon riley #x oc #oc: goose #baby is named Mary but ends up getting affectionately nicknamed frog #yeah i'll just give yall that #i feel like im never gonna finish this fic #i have a million things i wanna include in it #cowboy!ghost

[leviathanleva]

Daisy

........................

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader

........................

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 4 "The Plea"

You stretch and groan.

The sound comes out jumbled and is drowned out by the violent vibrating of the washing machine you’re perched upon. You strain your legs, flexing your thighs and working out the sleep from your numb muscles. Your toes squish against the inside of your boots before you relax and rub at your eyes, wiping away the tears your incessant yawns were causing.

You’d seen plenty of pictures of children hollering in front of a fan on a hot summer day, some sort of weird way to entertain themselves because the beat of the fins distorted their voices. It was a good commercial for any fan whenever summer rolled around. Sadly, now when you were free to wander and do as you pleased, much of the mundane experiences you wanted to dip your toes in were impossible to achieve. You were two hundred years too late. You took what you could get though, hence why you’d let curiosity guide you on top of the washing machine once it had started centrifuging.

The steaming coffee mug sat on the L-shaped kitchen counter just next to you and after a moment of being thoroughly jostled around, you picked it up with as much care as you could. Lips latched onto the edge of the mug with haste before you took a big sip, slurping audibly before the coffee could spill out from the violent thrashing causing your arm to quake.

Wet hair clung to your bare shoulders and the aromatic droplets of water dripped and soaked into your dress. It had taken you a good hour to get the ghoul inside the shower after you’d gotten out, all squeaky clean and smelling of lavender soap. How he managed to bear being a grimy crusty prune was beyond you, but as soon as the generator had kicked back to life and restored some power in the vault, you’d jumped at the idea of a nice hot shower.

His clothes were strewn on a dangling cable, as clean as they could get after being worn for who knows how long without a proper wash. Some stains persisted and the washing machine couldn’t do anything about the faded colors, but at least they didn’t smell of death anymore.

He’d dismissed your proposal to launder his rags at first, bumped the butt of his shotgun against your stomach hard enough to make you wheeze and still you hadn’t relented. It was the least you could do, you’d said, begged even. After everything he’d done for you, you wanted to repay him outside of the hefty tato sack stuffed to the brim with bloody Pip-boys and medical supplies and provisions. You’d chewed at his ear until he’d given up with a sigh and hidden behind the shower curtain before tossing his clothes at you layer by layer.

In truth, you just wanted to prolong his departure. Thinking of anything and everything because you didn’t want to be left alone in this haunted vault, you’d come up with ploy after ploy and the power coming back had only aided you in your private battle. So traumatized by the last day that you clung to him even if he was a demented, deadly wastelander probably no better than the raiders he’d slaughtered.

Your sleep had been plagued with nightmares that night; grotesque sceneries of violence and gore were painted in detail over your closed eyelids, making you stir and whimper in your bed. The ghoul was a light sleeper, trained to spring into action at the slightest noise and you tossing and turning and making the bedframe creak gave him all the rights to chuck a cushion at you. He’d scared you half to death with that, but the reminder that he was still there, grumbling on the couch and trying to catch a wink of rest, had given you enough comfort to sleep peacefully for a few hours.

When the washing machine stilled, your reminiscing ended.

You tipped the mug, suckling at the last few drops of sweetened coffee, before setting it aside and hopping on your feet. After pulling the foggy lid open, you drape your socks and your old dress over your forearm and a scowl pinches at the corner of your lips.

Apparently, Abraxo wasn’t strong enough to wash away radroach intestines. You mourned the ruined dress, bitter with wasting the cleaning product for nothing, but decided to hang it up regardless and let it dry.

Who cared for stains anyway? You had bigger problems on your plate.

The screech of the shower tap and a curt whistle have you automatically groping at the ghoul’s clothes.

“Be right there, mister!” you call out and bunch them up in your hands, placing his hat over your head to save space, his coat is still damp but you doubt he’d mind. You skitter to the edge of the shower and leave the pile next to his weaponry before your manners lead you away to give him some privacy.

The half-empty coffee pot caught your attention once you were back in the bright yellow kitchen area. Despite your low tolerance and the apparent twitches in your fingers, you refilled your mug, deciding that adding sugar wasn’t needed this time.

You were free now, you could drink all the coffee you wanted.

Once the rustling of clothes and buckling of belts and straps ceased, the ghoul appeared from behind the wall, finding you sitting on the counter with ankles crossed and kicking your feet rhythmically. You beam at his slightly less disheveled state, eyes darting from him to the full mug waiting for him. He scoffs and accepts your silent offer.

“Feeling better?”

“Like a new man.” he declares with a sense of peace to his tone and leans back against the fridge before taking a long sip from his lukewarm drink.

Cooper was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. He’d caught on to your innocent scheme quickly. From the coffee to your constant close proximity, to washing his clothes. The biggest giveaway was you trying to hide your nervousness and biting back victorious smiles whenever he accepted any of your domestic offers. You were kneading him like sourdough, nice and good and gentle, hoping for something in his brain to click and his simple plan of taking his things and leaving to take a different course.

That’s why he fought against melting in the shower and suppressed a genuine smile when he saw the coffee. He kept his guard up, concrete walls so high one couldn’t see the top, locking away whatever humanity was left to rot, untouched and undisturbed. Joy was an illusion, peace was the quiet before the storm.

Nothing lasted, neither would you.

“Take me with you, I won’t be useless, I promise.”

He could almost hear those words twirling on the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill but never being voiced. Like hell, he’d ever entertain that idea.

“So what now, mister?” you ask casually, hiding pouty lips behind your mug and looking up at him in question. “Where you headed off to?”

“Well, – ” he rasps and clears his throat. “ – considering my bounty’s prob’ly dead. Gonna head off to Tillburry.” he nudges his chin at the sack resting by the exit of the suite. “Gonna sell some o’ that, make me some profit.”

Your vigorous slurping stops and you swallow the mouthful of bitterness before cocking your head.

“Tillberry?” you test the unfamiliar word with hesitation. “And that’s…what?”

“Tillburry.” he corrects and rests one foot against the fridge door, the spur on his boot clanking against the metal. “It’s a settlement, darlin’. Quite the big one too.” he mulled over a particular memory, looking down at his drink. “ ’Bout three hundred people last time I checked.”

“There are settlements?” you choke and cough out the spit tickling your throat with a fist to your mouth.

The thought that a good number of people had survived and were thriving enough to start rebuilding was unfathomable. Even if said settlements were based on the ruins and scraps of the cities from the old days it was still such a groundbreaking piece of knowledge.

Considering the raiders and the ghoul, you’d assumed everyone on the surface was deranged and out for blood. A man-eat-man nightmarish hell in which not even the strongest survived for long.

But no, there were people, honest hardworking people, that were coming together to build safe havens and restore some order to the chaos they had been born into. Sure, they had probably seen their fair share of hardships and were rugged and hard-skinned, but if they’d managed to keep the peace and grow towns and develop businesses, they couldn’t be that bad.

You had to see this. You needed to.

“Plen’y of em.” he pipes in, then tips his head and his voice acquires an almost mocking twinge. “Wasteland’s not as dead as you think, sweetheart.”

“Take me there.” you blurt out before even realizing it.

“Pardon?” he’s surprised for only a moment before his demeanor shifts to dangerously sharp and his eyes harden. He moves in an instant, large palms planted on either side of your thighs and you have to jerk back to avoid him smashing his forehead into yours. “Mind your fuckin’ tone with me, missy.”

When you squint and recoil, he eases, satisfied with your reaction.

“Just cuz I been toleratin’ you don’t mean I can’t stuff a bullet in your belly.”

“I’m sorry! Sorry, sir.” you rush to undo your mistake, having spent too much time with him while he was docile to remember that you weren’t dealing with a friendly neighbor. “I meant no disrespect.” with a lowered gaze and a lump in your throat you continue. “I’d just really like to see such a place…”

“And I’d like a fifty-acre ranch to breed horses.” he sneers at you, yellow teeth peeking under his chapped lips. He shifts his weight around, resting from one hip to the other as he pulls away just barely. His fingers still grip the counter, still around you and ready to subdue another fuss. “But we don’ always get what we want.”

“Maybe I could…live there?” you didn’t believe your own words, but you still persisted. Flickering lashes swatted over pity eyes as you stared at him like an expectant street cat waiting to be adopted.

A preposterous idea. You didn’t know the first thing about surviving on the surface, couldn’t tell a radroach burrow from an anthill, and yet however difficult it would be anything would be better than living by yourself in a hole in the ground. Maybe you would have managed if the raiders had just left and the ghoul never crossed your path. But now, after knowing the bliss of company, of a friend who didn’t talk about medicine and made-up cures, now you couldn’t.

You needed him and not just for his skills or his wisdom of living off a toxic land. You needed him for him, just the ghoul, just the man who’d shown you kindness.

“Sweetheart, you needed t’ read the manual before turnin’ on the washin’ machine.” he states in a very mocking matter-of-fact way and snorts with a half-smile. “Twice.”

“But I did it.” you say back, struggling against a lost battle but how could you not when there was a blueish limp hand peeking from beyond the complex exit.

He gives you a once over, considering for a second before shaking the thought away with a bitter glower.

What the hell was he even thinking?

“You don’t really fit in with the common folk.” he counters again and he’s confident that soon you’ll wane. “Don’ think they’ll take too kindly to you.”

“What’d you mean, mister?” you tilt to the side, leaning on one hand with a faint pout.

“Yer too clean.” he mumbles while skimming over you with a judgmental expression, his mouth pursing as he took you in. “Too pretty. Too kept.” he leans back to cross his arms, a half-frown of disapproval glooming over his face. It wasn’t a compliment; it was dry facts that he offered you to get through your thick skull that you’d be in more danger than you realize if you ever managed to reach a local town. “Surface dwellers don’ like your kind.”

“Then I’ll work on it until they like me.”

The back of your boots hit the counter each time you kicked your feet, egged on by the caffeine overdose. You kept your eyes glued to his because you didn’t know of a better way of pleading without sounding pathetic and getting on his nerves.

“You can’t even fire a gun, darlin’.” the ghoul sighs in defeat, not because you’re getting under his skin, but because you fight this ferociously for your demise.

Both of you are aware that you wouldn’t last long outside. You were defenseless and had no usefulness, you weren’t accustomed to radiation, and everything on the surface was soaked in it. Most available jobs either needed you to get your hands dirty or break your back with overtime and you’d nearly passed out after walking half a day in a desert and thrown up at the sight of a dead body.

He’d be damned if he let you abandon a life of comfort and security because you didn’t know what you were asking for. Letting go of constant food and fresh water and hot showers just because you were too scared to learn by trial and error on your own was too much for him. It was stupid and you rebelling against him tooth and nail made it worse.

You weren’t winning anything; you were just giving him a headache.

“Someone would be willing to teach me.” the naivety in your comeback makes him laugh and your brows rise and furrow at his reaction.

“Ain’t nobody gonna do shit for free.” that was his last pushback before he made up his mind on ending your charade. His hat dipped and his tone lowered to an even rasp. “You’ll be just fine here, darlin’.” he takes a few steps back and chugs the remainder of his discarded coffee before grunting in satisfaction. “Good cup o’ coffee…Now be a dear ‘n show me the way out.”

“I could make you more if you stayed a bit longer, mister.”

A drowning man’s attempt to keep from sinking.

You give him a tiny smile and roll your ankles to release some tension. You knew you were pushing it, from his stiff shoulders to his thinned upper lip, but you didn’t want to stay here anymore. Disregarding the steady supply of provisions and the regulated temperatures, the medical supplies and the safety. You wanted to go with him. Wherever he went, no matter the danger, you want to be in his shadow. The radroaches and raiders forgotten, ignorant of just how hostile his world was and selfish by continuing to thrust your life in his hands when he didn’t want it.

“Das enough, darlin’.” he mutters while picking up the supply sack and flinging his bandolier over his shoulder.

“What if – ”

“– Enough!” your mouth shuts at his command. His glare is piercing while he stands by the door with his back turned to you, giving you only a stern side-eye. “Move.”

You slide off the counter without another word and pat down your dress, not that anything could be seen underneath the thick tights but common decency forced you to. He waits for you, motioning with his hand once you're by his side and you walk forward, through the dingy corridor and past the raider he’d gutted the day before.

You try not to look, but it’s difficult when the deep red hues contrast with the metallic white of the wall and floor. It’s an abominable sight. There’s a cut spanning over the entirety of the man’s neck, horizontal and precise, so deep that amidst the flesh and blood, you see bone.

You could almost simulate the pain and you struggled to swallow.

He was a raider… he was a criminal. He was a bad man, he’d tried to murder you and failed by just an inch, the ghoul did what he had to do. There would be plenty more with much the same mindset if he agreed to take you with him. Scenes like this would probably be a daily occurrence, but you wouldn’t be the one doing the killing and still seeing the raider nearly decapitated scarred something deep within you.

Were you really willing to go through this again just to stay with the ghoul?

Maybe, for him, maybe.

“Fuckin’ piss stain…”

You look to him at that remark, then down at the center of his attention. He had one foot set in a puddle of blood and pieces of flesh, both attached to an unmoving vault dweller. He wiped his boot in the corpse’s suit and spat with malice.

 “You really don’t like this place, mister?” it’s more of a statement than a question, but your quizzical expression gives him enough room to reply.

You had noticed his visible disdain once he’d first entered the vault with you, but you’d blamed it on him being an experienced bounty hunter who knew better than to let his guard down. Then you’d seen his complete lack of empathy for the dead bodies littering the hallways and even a drop of anger edging his default scowl. He had a personal vendetta against the inhabitants, a distaste that went so deep he’d preferred to sever the wrists of the corpses over just unclasping their Pip-boys and claiming them for himself.

You’d never brought it up because it wasn’t your place, but now you had a reason to, and your curiosity was peaked.

“Vaults ain’t my thing, darlin’, nor vaulties.” he speaks with spite, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips when he raises his gaze to you. Then he kicks the mess out of his way without a hint of shame, splashing the gore over the floor, and continues after you.

“Why?” you peep and it’s so innocent and light because you don’t understand the gravitas of the answer you’re reaching for.

There’s a small pause as you glance at the ghoul with a blank visage. There’s a certain lethargy to your step and a bounce to your slack shoulders because you’re relaxed and clear-minded and you have no idea just what you’re asking him. He could be angry, you’re poking around topics that are beyond your capacity, ones of resentment and shrewd grudges that span over such a long time that you couldn’t even begin to imagine.

But he wasn’t upset, there was no point. You were just a stupid little thing trying to sow a light chat before your paths diverged.

The memories are knocking on the front door of his consciousness, but he refuses to indulge them. Not now, maybe later when he was alone and could recollect everything in peace.

“That ain't none o’ your business.” his words are snippy but his tone is placid, he doesn’t even reciprocate your prying eyes, just stares straight ahead with a tense jaw.

His reluctance to delve deeper and the shift in the air give you a good enough hint to not press the matter further. You would have reached to pat his arm, a benevolence he undoubtedly deserved along with so much more, but refrained from doing so. Despite you having placed him on a golden pedestal for all he’d done for you, which wasn’t much, but enough to leave you with an unforgettable impression, he didn’t see you in the same manner. His life had hardened him both physically and emotionally, he hadn’t even trusted you to sleep together in the same suite, having tucked one of his pistols under his pillow with a finger on the trigger.

You’d seen it, you just didn’t mention it.

He didn’t need your pity nor your good-heartedness, he didn’t care and that’s why you kept from overstepping even if you wanted to comfort the restless beasts pacing somewhere within his being.

“You’ve been nice to me though.” you put forth a honeyed smile and steered the conversation to a lighter note. A small sugary quip to oppose his hardened exterior and alleviate him of his hissy mood.

He chuckles, a raspy chortle that tickles your ear and curls your lips into a grin.

“Ain’t nice, missy, just tolerant.”

Your chirpy chat continues as you pass through the whey field and into another brightly lit tunnel. He doesn’t have to know that you could have led him to the elevator three times already through a shortcut. You like him, harbor such fondness for him in all his gruffness, you might have agreed to lead him out but you never said you wouldn’t take the scenic route. An extended detour while you continuously banter with each other and you always relent because you want him to be happy with having the upper hand in the conversation.

But no matter how long you tried to prolong the inevitable, eventually, you found the way to the elevator. Before it had been your savior, taking you away from those vile people before they could sink their grimy claws in your flesh. Now it was an unwelcome vestige, the last step before the ghoul left and you were abandoned to waste away in an underground prison.

He entered first and leaned against the steel wall, a thumb tucked in his belt and hat tipped over his eyes. You turn your back to him and press the button and it’s suddenly awkward and silent.

You wished the damn thing moved slower, but it propelled up, passing by vault levels within a blink. Such a cruel construct…

Misery didn’t thrive for long, you didn’t let it.

Maybe one day you’d meet him again. You’d learn to shoot a gun, there had to be at least one stashed somewhere for emergencies, then you’d learn to sustain yourself and grow crops, fiddle with the mechanisms of the vault and read every book and article and document regarding medicine. You’d prepare well and one day leave again to explore the world outside and maybe if fate was kind, you’d run into him on your journey.

Maybe he wouldn’t remember, maybe he would, but you’d be happy all the same.

And you’d be different then, stronger and more independent and not useless. Maybe he’d take you with him when you proved that you wouldn’t be a burden anymore. He’d take you on his adventures and teach you how to be a bounty hunter like him and you’d make the best duo the surface has ever seen.

Your self-assurance dwindled when the elevator reached the top level and the door slid open. He walked out unbothered and you struggled to keep the calm façade going.

It wasn’t healthy to form such attachments so quickly, but it happened and you were torn between begging him one last time and giving him the solace he craved. But could you really be blamed when you’d known only solitude?

He stood at the vault entrance and tossed you a slow, expectant look and you fiddled with the Pip-boy. Stiff fingers scrolled through the menus, determined to take as much time as possible while you prayed for a miracle. Your pleas remained unanswered, the time for stalling ended as the gate screeched and rolled to the side. A hot gust of wind crept through, drying your eyes and making your throat scratchy after a few silent breaths.

“Best of luck, vaulty.”

He raised his arm and flicked his wrist in a goodbye after readjusting his hat, boots clinking as he set forth with an even pace. You watched him leave, heart asunder, mouth cracked open but no words came out. Gripping onto the control panel, frustration flaring, desperation so intense it made the hairs on your arms lift up.

Was this really it? Was this the end of it? Was this the last time you saw him? The only friend you had, the only person you knew, the only warmth ever given to you.

He could let go without a second thought, but you couldn’t.

“Go…GO!”

A shaky step, then another.

With each step, the quake in your legs eased, determination overpowering hesitation, and before you knew it you were jogging and then running. The sand wasn’t kind to your shoes, you nearly tripped, wide strides bringing you closer to him because, unlike his tempo, yours held intention.

He knew you’d do this, he knew and he had the common sense to pull out his pistol and threaten you back inside.

You might have tumbled him over if you had the strength, but instead, you splat yourself against his back and drape your arms around his abdomen. His hand faltered, resting on the holster of his gun as you squeezed him and slid your fingers past his coat, grabbing at his vest.

“Please.” you force through a clenched throat, choosing to beg him instead of breathing. Saliva pools in your mouth and tears form in the back of your eyes as you press your cheek against his spine. Your eyes squeeze shut as if cutting off your vision would make you deaf to his answer. “Please…I’ll – ”

He’d taken what he needed, completing your transaction and wanting nothing more, but maybe you could find something else he had use for. He sighs and you’re so regretful, but you can’t let it go without a final push.  And he’s fed up enough to maybe just shoot you, but if he was you’d have a chance at bargaining again and keep him around for a few more minutes.

“ – I’ll pay you.” you sniffle back the runny mucus seeping through your nostrils and swallow a mouthful of thick spit, it distorts your voice just a bit. “Please take me to Tillberry. I’ll find a job – I’ll – You can have everything I earn, I just need enough to buy some food.”

“Tillb – ” he grunts and pinches the space between his eyes as they shut.

He wanted to rip you off of him and leave, with no mercy and no care, but you just had to play nice. You had to play house with him and make him coffee and wash his clothes and be soft with him. The sweet gestures and light words did things to him, he was no fool, they reminded him that humans still existed and they were still kind. A peek into the past.

“I won’t be useless. I’ll learn quick and stay out of your way and do anything you ask…Just until the settlement.”

Whines and sobs and sniveling sniffs and chokes, they crawl up his skin like maggots and try to burrow and find an ounce of empathy, but he has none.

“Right.” he whirls around with such force that if it hadn’t been for the iron grip he clasped over your jaw, you would have fallen. He’s an eyelash away from your face, with a fowl snarl carving into his gaunt features and he spats poison at you. He speaks the truth. “Do you fucking know what the hell you’re asking for?” he’s so pissed that his accent dissipates. “You’re gonna fuckin’ die out here. With or without help.”

“Plea – ”

“ – I ain’t no God damned babysitter!” he snaps and forces you back. You stumble and curl your hands over your chest instinctively as he points his pistol at you, forefinger on the trigger. “Now get the hell outta my sight.”

His lips pinch in annoyance when you don’t move.

He didn’t give a damn if you lived or not, but you’d shown him respect and generosity and he repaid you by not shooting you down on the spot. He gave you a chance at survival, exterminated the pests in your home and made sure to leave enough provisions to live off of while you worked out how to take care of yourself. You wouldn’t receive half of what he’d done for you in the wasteland, it was a cutthroat fever dream that no one could wake up from.

Precious things lived in castles, not in the wilds.

But then you finally move. You move and it’s the wrong fucking way.

The tip of the gun glosses over your cheek as you enclose trembling fingers around his wrist and his sleeve is pulled back enough for you to find his skin, marred and leathery and disgusting and safe and wonderful. Your eyes close and press into his glove as the barrel rests against your bare shoulder and all it would take was a click and you’d be dead.

“Please, mister.”

You sink to your knees, bringing his arm down with you.

A lost little dove, fluttering in his palm, trusting and willing and kneeling at the gates of hell because it already knew what heaven was. Or maybe it didn’t, maybe you knew a different hell he was unfamiliar with so you begged for his instead of going back to your own.

“I’ll do anything…”

He’d seen plenty of people beg for their lives, for food or water or help. He’d heard it all, from bargaining to taunting, reverse psychology, and manipulation tactics all in the name of living to see another sunrise. This was the first time anyone had ever pleaded for him.

He should have left yesterday, the moment you’d found the storage unit he should have taken his things and been on his way. He should have tried to find the exit while you were sleeping and never looked back. He should have done more, everything in his power to not be in this damnable situation. You fed something within him, a slumbering behemoth forgotten over time, you sated a need he’d developed so long ago, a need so constant he didn’t realize was there anymore until you.

“Get the hell up.” he grips your arm like the brutish man he is, pulls you to your feet, and spins you around like a puppet.

You don’t fight, drained by both the searing sun and your turbulent emotions, letting him latch his hand to the back of your neck and drag you forward, back to the vault.

Back to solitude. Back to hell.

“Three hundred caps.”

You muster an inquisitive hum and dare to steal a glimpse of his expression. It’s haggard, annoyed, defeated.

“For your safe transportation t’ Tillburry.” he offers you nothing, not even a peak, but his hold on your neck tightens and you wince. “Now use your fuckin’ legs. We’re loosin’ daylight.”

🌼 Masterlist 🌼

Tag list: @bountydroid @windierhades @ultimatereality @gruffle1 @v3lv3tf0x @fallout-girl219 @one-of-thewalkingdead

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv series #the ghoul x you #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x reader #fallout the ghoul #the ghoul #x reader

[st-danger]

saint may i trouble u for somethin quick rough and nasty idc which ghouls or how or what or why their fuxkin but im obsessed w ur writing please and thank u 🙏

Dew can't breathe. There's no hand on his throat, no palm covering his mouth, but his knees are folded up to his ears and Ifrit is an imposing, impossible figure above him, pressing in and knocking the air from his lungs with every thrust. Mouth parted, looking dazed. Intense and relentless is a nice look on him, even if that's the only nice thing about him for the time being.

Dew has some hair sticking to the corner of his mouth, his sweaty forehead. His nerves feel oversensitive, his body aches already, and he isn't sure what he says please for. Not sure what he's asking, but it feels correct to say, a soft puff of air knocked from him with a particularly nasty roll of Ifrit's hips. His hands press ineffectively against Ifrit's broad chest, clawing at him as the angle lets him drill against a sensitive spot inside. It's so good and Ifrit won't let him forget it. The irritation from that will be a problem for future him, and he'll roll his eyes and play stupid when Ifrit dares to call him out later, telling him he knows he's the best he's had and that it's so obvious he needs it again. Needs to be put in his place, because the others are too nice to him. Too kind, too loving. The others don't understand the ways in which Dew needs to be fucked brainless.

"Please?" Ifrit mocks. "What more could you want?"

Ifrit buries himself deep, holds himself in, leans in further and Dew's sure he can feel him in his throat. Arms bracketing him, boxing him in. Not that he has any leverage like this, but even if he wasn't folded up to be used, ankles over his shoulders, he still wouldn't be able to wriggle away if Ifrit's on him. He's possessed, thoroughly and inescapably, and he'll have the bite marks and bruises to show for it when he's finally finished using him. He will ache, he will wince, and nothing will ever feel as good as when Ifrit uses him like an object.

"Please," Dew wheezes again, and knows his cock is leaking a spot of pre onto his belly. Knows that each thrust he gets is moving him, smearing the wet spot around his skin, cock trapped between their stomachs. He can finish from this. It's barely enough friction on his dick, but it's enough with how keyed up he is, which how perfectly Ifrit nudges inside him right there. The sum of it all is enough, the helplessness, the cruelty. "Use- me, make me, c'mon, make me cum."

Ifrit adjusts enough to where he can lean all his weight onto one arm, freeing the other to grab Dew's face. Thumb digging into one cheek, fingertips into the other, forceful and aggressive and squeezing, squishing his face. Reflexively, Dew's hands fly to his arm, though not to pull it away. To anchor. Ifrit's eyes burn into his, brow knit together, staring at him like he can see more than anyone else. Something secret and shamefully weak.

"I'm fucking you until I'm done," Ifrit warns, voice dark and low. "You don't want to cum early." Dew nods, eyes wide, and Ifrit drags out slow and then slams back in. Fucks a pathetic whimper out of him. Repeats. The hand on his face is painful. He has to look stupid. "Yeah? You wouldn't want to take my cock all sensitive like that, would you?" Each snap of his hips makes Dew's eyes struggle to focus, little toes curling. "That'd be awful for you," Ifrit grunts, throbbing hard when he pauses before drawing out again. "All used up and cryin' for me. Be a fucked up thing for you to want."

Dew nods again as best he can with his face being gripped the way it is.

"Please," he says again, weak.

#st-speaks #ghost #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #sodo ghoul #dew ghoul #ifrit ghoul #dewdrop/ifrit #fire ghoul #ifrit/sodo #ifrit/dew #ifrit x dewdrop #ifrit x sodo #ghost headcanons #ghost fic #ghost fanfiction

[smoke-and-silver]

Ghouls Being Just a Little Messed Up

Pervy AU where the ghouls cross some weird boundaries (but are still otherwise respectful because we're keeping it lighthearted).

NSFW. Ghoulette parts lean towards AFAB reader but the rest are neutral.

Aether

He's secretly adores your feet and wishes you would step on him. He gave you a boost one day to reach something and you were accidentally kind of rough stepping up on his shoulders. You apologized but he can't get it off his mind since then. Has occasionally sniffed your shoes and is deeply ashamed of it.

Aurora

She likes to get off with things you've touched. Humping your pillow. Using the handle of your hairbrush and then wiping it down and putting it back. She gets off on knowing that you keep using those things after she's gotten her juices all over them.

Cirrus

Holds the door for you when you're just a little too far away so you'll do that little jog to reach the door just so she can watch your tits bounce. Stares at your cleavage any time she can get away with it. Hugs you tight just to feel your breasts squish against her.

Cumulus

She's totally into your sweat and she's super embarrassed about it. She's all over you just after a workout or on a hot sweaty summer day. She casually leans in to sniff you when you're not paying attention. Offers a suspicious amount of hugs too. Has buried her face in your sweaty bra or shirt when you go to shower off.

Dewdrop

The worst. He'll jerk it while you're sleeping next to him. He has candids and upskirts of you saved that he masturbates to on lonely nights. Any human creep gets caught taking pics of you though and he eats them alive. What a hypocrite.

Mountain

A voyeur. He was working in the garden one day and happened to be near your window. He realized you were in there changing and he knew he should look away, but he couldn't. Now some evenings he likes to stay out late "working" just to watch you throught the window. The garden looks nicer than ever.

Phantom

Another voyeur. It was an accident the first time--he was high in the rafters when you came in to change clothes and he didn't know what to do, so he stayed quiet. Now you have unnoticed company when you strip out of your work clothes and go to shower in the evening.

Rain

Conveniently places himself so that you'll bump or brush against his dick. Stands a little too close when you're bent over grabbing something so that you'll back into him. Really convincing at playing it off as whoopsy daisy every time. He's sat down in the same spot just as you're sitting so that you land in his lap.

Swiss

Look me in the eyes and tell me he's not a panty sniffer. He loves when it's his turn to do laundry. He'll wait until you've left the room and then bury his face in your clothes. Sometimes when you're not home he'll slink into your room, grab a pair from your hamper, and wear them over his face while he jerks himself off.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #aether ghoul #aurora ghoulette #cirrus ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #phantom ghoul #rain ghoul #swiss ghoul