#hat rule

We reached Dusthaven just after full dark. The little settlement was nothing more than a handful of patched shacks and rusted pre-war storefronts huddled around a cracked main street. Lanterns flickered in windows, generators hummed in the distance, and the air carried the faint green glow of distant radstorms on the horizon. Dogmeat trotted ahead, nose to the ground, tail wagging like the town was an old friend. My legs still felt loose from the diner, every step reminding me of Cooper’s mouth and the way he’d talked me through three shattering orgasms like it was the most natural thing in the wastes. The tension between us hadn’t eased; if anything, it had thickened, humming under my skin like a live wire.

“I need a drink,” Cooper muttered, eyes fixed on the only building with life spilling out of it—the Rusty Spur. Smoke and raucous laughter leaked through the propped-open door.

I swallowed, heart picking up. “I’ve never had one. Vault rules. No alcohol, no chems, nothing that clouded the mind. Just water and the occasional warm Nuka on birthdays.”

His ruined mouth curved. “Tonight you do, darlin’. Consider it part of your education.”

We left Dogmeat curled under the awning with a strip of jerky and a stern “stay.” She whined once but settled, watching us with trusting eyes. Inside, the bar hit me like a wall. Dim yellow bulbs swung from bare wires. Thick smoke hung in layers—cigarette haze mixed with the sharp-sweet burn of Jet and the metallic tang of Mentats. A jukebox in the corner scratched out an old pre-war tune, warped and slow. A handful of patrons hunched at the scarred bar: two ghouls with glowing eyes, a raider woman with a machete on her hip, a smoothskin trader nursing a bottle. Everyone looked like they’d kill for caps or a reason.

Cooper dropped onto a stool like he owned the place. “Two whiskeys. Leave the bottle.”

The bartender—a bald ghoul with half his face missing—slid two cloudy glasses and a half-full bottle our way. Cooper pushed one toward me. “Small sips, vaultie. It bites.”

I lifted the glass. The smell was sharp, smoky, like fire and old wood. First sip burned all the way down. I coughed, eyes watering. “Holy shit—that’s awful.”

He chuckled, low and rough. “Takes getting used to. Keep sipping. It’ll warm you up.”

I did. One sip, then another. The burn eased into a golden heat that spread through my chest and loosened my limbs. By the third glass I was giggling at nothing, the world tilting pleasantly. My cheeks felt hot. The smoke didn’t bother me anymore. Everything felt softer, funnier, warmer.

“You’re staring,” I teased, leaning closer. His yellow eyes had gone half-lidded, watching me with that dangerous hunger again.

“Can’t help it. Tipsy vaultie is a hell of a sight.”

I laughed and reached up without thinking, snatching the battered cowboy hat off his head. I plopped it on my own, tilting it low like he always did. “There. Now I look like a real cowboy. How do I look, partner?”

The whole bar went quiet for half a second. Then a raider at the end of the bar snorted into his drink. “Girl just took the ghoul’s hat. You know what that means, right?”

Cooper’s jaw tightened. “Forget it.”

But the whiskey made me bold. I spun the hat on my finger, grinning. “No, wait—what does it mean? Tell me. You can’t just say ‘forget it’ after someone drops a cryptic line like that.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, claws scraping scarred skin. “It’s an old pre-war thing. Stupid cowboy etiquette. Ain’t worth explainin’.”

I leaned in, hat slipping over one eye, voice playful and slurred. “I took your hat. I’m wearing it. Spill, cowboy. Or I’ll ask the whole bar.”

He exhaled through his teeth, then leaned close so only I could hear, voice gravel-rough and low. “Fine. In the old west, if a woman takes a man’s hat and puts it on… it means she’s claimin’ him for the night. Means she’s ridin’ him. Means you just told every son of a bitch in here you’re takin’ me to bed.”

My breath caught. The whiskey heat flared hotter, pooling low in my belly. I could feel my face burning, but I didn’t take the hat off. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” His eyes dragged over me—slow, deliberate—lingering on the way the hat sat crooked on my head, the ripped collar of my vault suit, the flush on my cheeks. “Now you know, darlin’. So either put it back or be ready to follow through.”

I bit my lip, tipsy courage making me bold. “What if I don’t want to put it back?”

He growled softly, the sound vibrating through me. “Then finish your drink, sweetheart. Because that hat just started somethin’ we ain’t finishin’ in this bar.”

The jukebox scratched on. Smoke curled around us. My heart hammered, the whiskey making everything feel electric. I kept his hat on, tipping it at him with a tipsy grin, while the tension between us crackled like the storm we’d left behind.

Outside, Dogmeat waited patiently, unaware that one silly hat had just turned the night into something filthy and inevitable.

The whiskey still burned sweet in my throat as I sat there wearing Cooper’s hat, the brim low over one eye like I actually knew what I was doing. My cheeks were flushed hot from the liquor and from the way every eye in the Rusty Spur kept flicking toward us. The raider at the end of the bar was still smirking into his glass. I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs, a mix of tipsy courage and that deep, aching want that had been building since the diner.

I spun the hat on my finger again, grinning at Cooper. “So if I keep this on, the whole bar thinks I’m dragging you upstairs to ride you like a wild brahmin. That about right, cowboy?”

He leaned in close, yellow eyes dark and amused, voice dropping to that gravel rasp that made my stomach flip. “That’s exactly right, darlin’. You just publicly claimed yourself a ghoul for the night. Bold move for a vault girl who was blushing at two strangers fuckin’ in the street yesterday.”

I laughed, the sound a little too loud, a little too breathless. The whiskey made everything feel loose and warm, but underneath it my nerves were buzzing. “Hey, I’m learning how to live out here. Surface rules, right? You said real men don’t hide behind curfew lights. So maybe I’m done hiding too.”

His claws tapped the bar once, slow and deliberate. “You sure about that? ‘Cause once that hat stays on your pretty head, I ain’t stoppin’ at the door. I’ll have you spread out and beggin’ before the bartender finishes his next round.”

Heat pooled low in my belly, sharp and sudden. I was still sore and sensitive from the diner, but the thought of more—of him inside me—made my thighs press together under the bar. “Big talk. You gonna back it up, old man, or just keep running that mouth?”

Cooper’s laugh was low and filthy. He stood, tossing a handful of caps on the bar. “Room upstairs. Now. Before I bend you over this stool and give the whole damn bar a show they won’t forget.”

My pulse spiked. Part of me wanted to keep bantering forever—just to hear that voice—but the rest of me was already following him up the narrow, creaky stairs behind the bar. The bartender didn’t even blink when Cooper slapped extra caps down for the key. “One night. No questions.”

The room was small and dim, one flickering bulb, a sagging bed with a surprisingly clean blanket, and a window that looked out over the quiet street. Dogmeat had stayed curled under the awning downstairs with her jerky; she’d be fine. Cooper shut the door behind us and locked it with a soft click.

I stood in the middle of the room, still wearing his hat, suddenly aware of how fast my heart was racing. Tipsy warmth buzzed in my veins, but underneath it a cold thread of panic twisted tight. I’d never done this. Never gone further than the fumbling kisses and quick hands in the vault dorms. Never had anyone inside me. What if I was bad at it? What if I disappointed him—the man who’d already made me come apart three times with just his mouth? I wanted this. I needed this. Out here on the surface you had to learn to take what you wanted, to survive, to feel alive. If I was going to live in the wastes, I had to learn how to fuck like the wasteland did—raw, real, without shame.

Cooper stepped close, claws gentle as he tilted my chin up. “You’re thinkin’ loud, vaultie. Talk to me.”

I swallowed hard. “I… I’ve never done this before. Like, all the way. I’m a virgin, Cooper. The vault was all rules and quickies in the dark if anything happened at all. I’m freaking out a little, but I don’t want to stop. I want to learn. I have to learn how to live out here. So… teach me.”

His eyes softened for half a second, then that predatory smirk returned, warmer now. “Aw, darlin’. My sweet little virgin vaultie. You’re doin’ so good already. Takin’ my hat, followin’ me up here, tellin’ me the truth. I’ll talk you through every second. You just breathe and feel. Ain’t no disappointin’ me tonight.”

He kissed me then—slow at first, then deeper, tongue sliding against mine with the same filthy patience he’d used earlier. My hands fisted in his duster as he walked me backward to the bed. “First thing,” he murmured against my mouth, “lose the suit. Let me see all of you.”

I peeled it off with shaky fingers, the fabric whispering down my legs. Naked now except for his hat still on my head. The cool air made my nipples tighten. I felt exposed, vulnerable, but the way his eyes dragged over me—hungry, reverent—made heat rush between my thighs.

“Beautiful,” he growled. “Now lie back, sugar. Knees up. Let your cowboy look at that pretty pussy he’s about to ruin.”

I did, heart pounding so hard I felt dizzy. He stripped off his coat and shirt, scarred chest bare, then knelt between my spread legs. His claws traced my inner thighs, light and teasing. “Easy, darlin’. You’re tremblin’. That’s okay. First time’s supposed to feel big. I’m gonna start with my fingers, get you nice and wet and open for me. Breathe.”

Two thick fingers slid through my folds, circling my clit slow and perfect. I gasped, hips jerking. The stretch when he pushed one inside was new, intense, but good. “Feel that? That’s me openin’ you up. So tight, sweetheart. So perfect. Relax for me. Let it in.”

I moaned, trying to breathe through the flutter of panic in my chest. What if it hurts? What if I can’t take him? But his voice kept me grounded. “Second finger now. Good girl. You’re takin’ me so well. Look at you, drippin’ all over my hand already. That’s my brave vaultie learnin’ how the surface feels.”

The stretch burned sweetly. I rocked against his hand, the whiskey and his praise making everything hazy and hot. “Cooper… please… I want you inside me. I want to feel all of you.”

He groaned, pulling his fingers free and freeing himself from his pants. His cock was thick, hard, flushed dark at the tip. My stomach flipped with nerves again. “It’s… big. I don’t know if—”

“You will,” he said, voice rough but gentle. “We’re goin’ slow. You set the pace, darlin’. I’m right here. Hold onto me.”

He notched the head against my entrance, one hand on my hip, the other braced beside my head. “Push out a little, sugar. Relax. That’s it. Just the tip first. Feel me stretchin’ you? Good girl. Breathe through it.”

The pressure was intense—burning, full, overwhelming. I whimpered, fingers digging into his shoulders. Panic flared for a second. Too much. Too real. But I wanted this. I wanted to be the girl who survived the wastes, who took what she craved. “Don’t stop,” I gasped. “I can take it. I want to learn. Keep talking to me.”

He pushed in another inch, voice low and steady. “That’s my girl. So fuckin’ tight around me. You’re squeezin’ me so good, darlin’. Halfway now. Feel how deep I am? That’s me claimin’ this pretty pussy. You’re doin’ perfect. Just a little more. Let me in all the way.”

I cried out when he bottomed out, full and stretched and burning. Tears pricked my eyes, but the fullness felt right, like something clicking into place. The panic ebbed, replaced by a deep, throbbing pleasure. “Oh god… Cooper… you’re inside me.”

He stayed still, forehead pressed to mine, breath ragged. “I know, sweetheart. You feel incredible. So warm, so tight. My brave little virgin. Now I’m gonna move. Slow at first. Tell me if it’s too much.”

He rocked his hips, shallow and careful. Pleasure sparked deep inside me with every thrust. I moaned, legs wrapping around him, the hat slipping sideways on my head. “More,” I begged. “Harder. I can take it. I want it all.”

His control snapped just enough. “That’s my girl. Takin’ my cock like you were made for it. Feel how deep I’m fuckin’ you? That’s the surface, darlin’. Raw and real and yours.” His pace picked up, still controlled, still talking me through every thrust. “Touch your clit, sugar. Rub it for me. Yeah, just like that. Come on my cock. Let me feel you squeeze me when you come.”

The orgasm hit fast and hard, crashing through me while he kept moving, praising me in that filthy cowboy drawl. “Good girl, good fuckin’ girl. Milk my cock. That’s it. You’re learnin’ so fast.”

He followed soon after, burying himself deep with a guttural groan, spilling hot inside me. We stayed locked together, panting, his hat still crooked on my head.

I laughed shakily, dazed and glowing. “I did it. I actually did it.”

Cooper kissed my forehead, voice soft with something like pride. “Damn right you did, darlin’. And we’re just gettin’ started.”

Outside, the wasteland night stretched on, but in that little rented room I felt more alive than I ever had under blue vault lights. I was learning. One filthy lesson at a time.

We stayed locked together for a long minute, his cock still buried deep inside me, pulsing with the last aftershocks of his release. My body felt boneless, buzzing, every nerve singing from the way he’d talked me through my first time. The hat sat crooked on my head, the whiskey still warm in my veins, and a wild, giddy rush flooded my chest. I’d done it. I’d taken him. I wasn’t just the vault girl anymore—I was the woman learning how to live raw in the wastes.

Cooper’s yellow eyes opened, heavy-lidded and dark with fresh hunger. His claws traced lazy circles on my hip. “You did so good, darlin’. Took every inch like you were made for it. But we ain’t done yet. Not by a long shot.”

I shivered, still full of him, already feeling the slow throb of new want building low in my belly. “What… what comes next?”

He smirked, that ruined mouth curving wicked. “Next, you learn to ride your cowboy. I’m gonna sit on the edge of this bed, and you’re gonna climb on top and take control. You set the pace. You decide how deep, how fast. Think you’re ready for that, sugar?”

My pulse spiked. The idea of being on top—of controlling this massive, scarred ghoul—sent a thrill through me that mixed with a fresh flutter of nerves. What if I messed up? What if I couldn’t make him feel half as good as he’d made me? But the surface had already taught me one thing: you either took what you wanted or the wastes took it from you. I wanted this. I wanted to learn.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Show me.”

He eased out of me with a low groan, the sudden emptiness making me whimper. Then he shifted, sitting right on the edge of the sagging mattress, legs spread wide, boots still on the floor. His cock stood hard again already, glistening with us, thick and flushed. He patted his thigh. “C’mere, darlin’. Straddle me. Knees on the bed.”

I crawled over, heart hammering, and swung one leg across his lap. The position put us face to face, my bare breasts brushing his scarred chest, his hat still perched on my head. I felt exposed, powerful, and a little dizzy all at once. His hands settled on my hips, claws gentle but firm.

“Easy now,” he murmured, voice that low cowboy drawl that melted me. “First, line yourself up. Feel the head right at your entrance? Yeah, just like that. Now sink down slow. You control it. Breathe through the stretch.”

I lowered myself, gasping as the thick head pushed inside again. The angle was different—deeper already. My thighs trembled. “Cooper… it feels… bigger this way.”

“I know, sweetheart. That’s because you’re takin’ me yourself. You’re in charge. Feel how full you are? That’s you ownin’ every inch. Keep goin’. Nice and slow. Let gravity do the work.”

I sank lower, inch by inch, until my ass rested on his thighs and he was buried to the hilt. The fullness punched the air from my lungs. I could feel every ridge, every throb. My clit ground against his pelvis and sparks shot up my spine. “Oh god… I can feel you so deep.”

“Good girl,” he praised, claws flexing on my hips but not forcing me. “Now rock. Just a little. Find what feels good. Roll those hips like you’re ridin’ a wild horse. Slow at first. Feel how I slide inside you?”

I rolled experimentally. Pleasure flared hot and bright. A soft moan slipped out. “Like… like this?”

“Just like that, darlin’. Look at you—fuckin’ yourself on my cock like a natural. You’re so wet I can hear it. Keep goin’. Faster if you want. Use me. Take what you need.”

The praise made me bold. I braced my hands on his shoulders and started moving—rolling, then lifting and dropping in short strokes. Each time I sank down, the head of his cock dragged over that perfect spot inside me. My breath came faster. The hat slipped forward; I pushed it back with a shaky laugh. “I feel like I’m flying. Like I could do this forever.”

Cooper’s eyes were locked on where we joined, watching himself disappear inside me. “That’s my girl. Look how pretty you look takin’ me. Bouncin’ on this ghoul cock like you own it. Faster now, sugar. Grind that clit on me every time you come down. Yeah… just like that. Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight.”

I picked up speed, thighs burning in the best way. Sweat slicked my skin. Every bounce sent jolts of pleasure through me—deep, rolling waves that built higher and higher. I was in control, and it felt incredible. Powerful. Free. “Cooper… I’m… I’m getting close already.”

“I know, darlin’. I can feel you flutterin’ around me. Don’t fight it. Ride it out. Come on my cock whenever you’re ready. Let me feel you fall apart up there.”

I rode him harder, the bed creaking beneath us, the hat bouncing on my head. The angle let me grind my clit perfectly with every drop. Pleasure coiled tighter, hotter, until it snapped. I came with a broken cry, walls clamping down around him, thighs shaking as I kept moving through it.

He groaned, claws digging in just enough to hold me steady. “That’s it, sweetheart. Good fuckin’ girl. Milk me. But we ain’t stoppin’. Keep ridin’. Give me another one.”

I was still pulsing, oversensitive, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. The second orgasm built even faster, crashing over me while I bounced on him, moaning his name like a prayer. “Cooper—fuck—I can’t—too much—”

“You can,” he growled, voice rougher now. “You’re doin’ so good, darlin’. Look at you learnin’ how to fuck like a wasteland woman. One more for me. Come on, ride that cock and come again.”

The third hit me like a radstorm—harder, longer, my vision whiting out as I ground down deep and stayed there, trembling. Only then did his control snap. He gripped my hips and thrust up once, twice, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural snarl as he spilled hot and deep inside me again.

We stayed like that, panting, foreheads pressed together, his hat still crooked on my head. My thighs burned. My body felt used and perfect and alive. I laughed softly against his scarred shoulder, dazed and glowing.

“I think I like riding lessons,” I whispered.

Cooper chuckled, low and warm, claws stroking my back. “Darlin’, you’re a natural. And class is still in session.”