(no subject)
Was reading over this oneshot a few days after it was written and it still sounds decent, so I figured I'd post it here for fellow ghoul lovers.
Title: Untitled.
Character/Pairing: LWxGob, Slash
Rating: R
Warning: Non-con
This guy, Danny or Reaver, had me on edge from the moment he first walked into the bar. Even Moriarty didn't like the looks of him and said so quite a bit after he'd left his office. With me, it was the way he smiled when he looked at me. Whenever this guy's eyes landed on my rotten face his grin would get just a little wider. That's another thing with him, his fucking grinning from ear to ear, he never stopped. Like everything he saw was a toy; everything a game.
That's probably what scared me the most. It could be the only reason why he wanted me. The first time we talked I'd had to explain what a ghoul was and he promptly told me just how fucking disgusting I already knew I was, all the while with that grin plastered on his face. He'd made it a point to come around every time he was in town, and treating Gob like shit was top on his list for fun times. To be honest, I think he liked that more than the liquor. Now a couple of months later he's bought me out of the blue. Moriarty was a hard sell I heard, didn't want to give me up; much less to this guy but money is money.
Never thought I'd ever feel an ounce of gratitude for that Irish bastard but there it was.
That scared feeling in the pit of my stomach only got worse as we got to Tenpenny Tower: Bigot central. I was probably going to be some kind of attraction for them to throw rocks at. You know, civilized entertainment. Brought me up to the suites, and all I can remember thinking was how in the fuck did he get something nice like this? The place was beautiful, and warm; it felt clean. He told me I could go shower and to throw away the rags I was wearing now since it'd probably dirty the place, which was probably true.
Have you ever had a hot shower? Much less a shower?
So I get dressed in some simple clothes that look beautiful compared to that outfit I'd been wearing for all those years in Megaton. Buckle up this old belt that for once wasn't clipped together, feeling a small shine of hope. Maybe shit wasn't so bad? Danny has a talent for stripping anything good away without even trying.
"Get in the bedroom."
He was right behind me when he said that, and I nearly shat myself. There was just no fucking way, but when I didn't move he shoved me. Something new actually. He never touched me in the bar, just handed out insults like candy. I think I would've preferred the former back then though... So I walk in there like I'm going to my funeral and still can't help gawking at that bed. Everything here looked so fucking good, so pristine, like it'd never seen the wastes. It even had pillows and a blanket. There you are, that's how good Tenpenny has it. Not sheets; blankets.
I was still in shock though, because really, who the fuck wanted to play doctor with a zombie? Maybe if they had some kind of necrophilia fetish of sorts. And that's when it clicked, that's exactly what it was.
This was his thing, his craze.
He ordered me to strip and goddamn if I didn’t just want to run and hide. Even with Moriarty's beatings I didn't feel like this. Hell, I think at that moment I even would've preferred the stoning by the residents. He told me again, but this time his voice was dangerous; he was already unbuckling and I almost ran when I saw that he was sporting a boner. I was just praying that maybe he'd spontaneously combust or some shit while I was stripping. This was Nova's gig, not mine, why couldn't he just stick to the humans? Hell, just the broads would be fine.
That's another thing, I'm straight. Not that he'd give a shit, and it wasn't like I'd ever get laid--well fuck. Can't say that anymore, can I? Danny just shoved me onto the bed and it touched me. Yeah, you heard right. Gob, the corpse, getting grossed out. He didn't seem to care though because he'd already straddled me, and his hands were everywhere. And all I could think about was that his nutsack was on my belly.
I remembered him muttering about liking how things looked on the inside, and how with me he didn't have to go through the trouble of cutting them open himself. I'm surprised I didn't piss myself then. So now I was feeling like a piece of meat on a spit, which was about to get very literal. He was licking his lips, fucking grinning when he opened my legs and pressed in.
Probably the lowest moment of my already miserable life, being reduced to a fetish.
Definitely would've preferred the stoning then, or even a bomb dropping on me. Because feeling this guy pump away inside was fucking sick; not to mention painful. Nova crossed my mind a few times, was this the shit she felt with every john? Closing my eyes only made it worse, because then all I could focus on was it. His long hair was all over my neck and I was using it to block out his face, until he shoved his tongue down my throat. He zeroed in on my nose after, tonguing the gaping hole where it used to be, like a god-damned freak of nature.
This was the same guy who'd never shut up, who'd made songs, about the million and one ways I was revolting. When that bastard came...for a moment I hated someone more than Moriarty; more than myself. And he didn't want to just roll off, no, that'd be merciful. Instead he asked me if I liked the bed, and then laughed.
That first time was the worst; there must really be a thing like grooming.
Because I'm like some broken-in whore now, when that guy walks through the door I am fucking ready. Already halfway to the bedroom in my mind, watching everything he does for a hint, just one damn sign that he's feeling it. It's pathetic.
Title: Untitled.
Character/Pairing: LWxGob, Slash
Rating: R
Warning: Non-con
This guy, Danny or Reaver, had me on edge from the moment he first walked into the bar. Even Moriarty didn't like the looks of him and said so quite a bit after he'd left his office. With me, it was the way he smiled when he looked at me. Whenever this guy's eyes landed on my rotten face his grin would get just a little wider. That's another thing with him, his fucking grinning from ear to ear, he never stopped. Like everything he saw was a toy; everything a game.
That's probably what scared me the most. It could be the only reason why he wanted me. The first time we talked I'd had to explain what a ghoul was and he promptly told me just how fucking disgusting I already knew I was, all the while with that grin plastered on his face. He'd made it a point to come around every time he was in town, and treating Gob like shit was top on his list for fun times. To be honest, I think he liked that more than the liquor. Now a couple of months later he's bought me out of the blue. Moriarty was a hard sell I heard, didn't want to give me up; much less to this guy but money is money.
Never thought I'd ever feel an ounce of gratitude for that Irish bastard but there it was.
That scared feeling in the pit of my stomach only got worse as we got to Tenpenny Tower: Bigot central. I was probably going to be some kind of attraction for them to throw rocks at. You know, civilized entertainment. Brought me up to the suites, and all I can remember thinking was how in the fuck did he get something nice like this? The place was beautiful, and warm; it felt clean. He told me I could go shower and to throw away the rags I was wearing now since it'd probably dirty the place, which was probably true.
Have you ever had a hot shower? Much less a shower?
So I get dressed in some simple clothes that look beautiful compared to that outfit I'd been wearing for all those years in Megaton. Buckle up this old belt that for once wasn't clipped together, feeling a small shine of hope. Maybe shit wasn't so bad? Danny has a talent for stripping anything good away without even trying.
"Get in the bedroom."
He was right behind me when he said that, and I nearly shat myself. There was just no fucking way, but when I didn't move he shoved me. Something new actually. He never touched me in the bar, just handed out insults like candy. I think I would've preferred the former back then though... So I walk in there like I'm going to my funeral and still can't help gawking at that bed. Everything here looked so fucking good, so pristine, like it'd never seen the wastes. It even had pillows and a blanket. There you are, that's how good Tenpenny has it. Not sheets; blankets.
I was still in shock though, because really, who the fuck wanted to play doctor with a zombie? Maybe if they had some kind of necrophilia fetish of sorts. And that's when it clicked, that's exactly what it was.
This was his thing, his craze.
He ordered me to strip and goddamn if I didn’t just want to run and hide. Even with Moriarty's beatings I didn't feel like this. Hell, I think at that moment I even would've preferred the stoning by the residents. He told me again, but this time his voice was dangerous; he was already unbuckling and I almost ran when I saw that he was sporting a boner. I was just praying that maybe he'd spontaneously combust or some shit while I was stripping. This was Nova's gig, not mine, why couldn't he just stick to the humans? Hell, just the broads would be fine.
That's another thing, I'm straight. Not that he'd give a shit, and it wasn't like I'd ever get laid--well fuck. Can't say that anymore, can I? Danny just shoved me onto the bed and it touched me. Yeah, you heard right. Gob, the corpse, getting grossed out. He didn't seem to care though because he'd already straddled me, and his hands were everywhere. And all I could think about was that his nutsack was on my belly.
I remembered him muttering about liking how things looked on the inside, and how with me he didn't have to go through the trouble of cutting them open himself. I'm surprised I didn't piss myself then. So now I was feeling like a piece of meat on a spit, which was about to get very literal. He was licking his lips, fucking grinning when he opened my legs and pressed in.
Probably the lowest moment of my already miserable life, being reduced to a fetish.
Definitely would've preferred the stoning then, or even a bomb dropping on me. Because feeling this guy pump away inside was fucking sick; not to mention painful. Nova crossed my mind a few times, was this the shit she felt with every john? Closing my eyes only made it worse, because then all I could focus on was it. His long hair was all over my neck and I was using it to block out his face, until he shoved his tongue down my throat. He zeroed in on my nose after, tonguing the gaping hole where it used to be, like a god-damned freak of nature.
This was the same guy who'd never shut up, who'd made songs, about the million and one ways I was revolting. When that bastard came...for a moment I hated someone more than Moriarty; more than myself. And he didn't want to just roll off, no, that'd be merciful. Instead he asked me if I liked the bed, and then laughed.
That first time was the worst; there must really be a thing like grooming.
Because I'm like some broken-in whore now, when that guy walks through the door I am fucking ready. Already halfway to the bedroom in my mind, watching everything he does for a hint, just one damn sign that he's feeling it. It's pathetic.