Certified Trash Fuckers

A little MacCready/Sole Survivor fic i’ve been playing with on my down time :) More or less an excuse for PWP

Also on my ao3 here :) My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here.

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MacCready was nursing his single and only beer with the grim finality of a man who knew he didn’t have the caps to spare for another. It had long lost the slight chill of the underground club, warm as his hand that held it wishing he could pony up for another.

He was going to have to cast his net a little wider, risk leaving Goodneighbor to maybe hire up as a caravan guard until something better came along.

He downed the rest of his beer with a grimace. There was a prospect he wasn’t looking forward to. He was way too sober to face the reality of things.

“Hey, Charlie, one more on my tab?”

“Your credit ain’t lookin’ too good, and Hancock’s been more than generous already, mate.”

The tone, MacCready thought, was unnecessary. And how did a robot manage a tone anyways?

They bang nasty :)

My OC for my Fallout: MN fic, Quinn. Illustration by @uptownlowdown

This is my 76 Vaultie, Billie. (she/her) Her full name is Wilma Jane Reed.

Billie was born January 11th 2074, her parents were a part of the original Vault 76 crew. Her mother worked the Vault’s farm, her father was a cook. Both taught her everything they knew and imparted a deep love of gardening and cooking to Billie. Unfortunately, neither survived long after venturing into the wasteland, both succumbing to the new diseases plaguing Appalachia.

Billie spends most days sprucing up the tower of trailers she’s turned into her home(not pictured). She’s built a farm around her small slice of the Forest south of Vault 76. She loves spending time tending to her crops, Brahmin and RadHens, as well as fishing and working on new recipes for her friends when they make their way back for much needed respite. She sketches the new flora and fauna that she’s seen in her travels around Appalachia. She happily trades food and scarp with others in exchange for books and repairs around her farm.

When not at home, Billie is scavenging for scrap and useful items to fix up to sell/trade to fellow wastelanders. She can be found making stops into The Whitesprings, Foundation, Highway Town, Nuka World on Tour. Her favorite place of all however is The Wayward. After the death of her parents Billie found a great deal of comfort in sitting and listening to Duchess, Sol, Jide, and Mort banter back and forth. Billie had grown particularly sweet on Mort McCoy but is too scared to make a move.

This is Jinx, my main ghoul gal 😎

Some of her lore is

1. She is a Preacher to the great wise one! She built and runs an entire church for Mothman

2. She loves to treasure hunt, usually you will find her somewhere in the wilderness searching for goodies!

3. The way she became a ghoul was through death near radiation, it basically brought her back to life

4. She is highly skilled in Bows and Pistols!

My Sole Survivor Isobel, a sniper who was honorably discharged from the army after being badly burned in Anchorage. Her wife Rosa was the one who carried Shaun. (sperm donated by one of Isobel's brothers so I can justify Shaun looking like both of them) Goes Brotherhood initially due to its similarity to her pre-war army career, but defects after Blind Betrayal. Ultimately taking her place as the Minuteman General. High Perception and Intelligence; low Strength. Preston and Danse are her closest friends, and ends up in a relationship with Piper.

I havent done a request in forever so i hope this doesnt suck ass. still gotta shake off the rust -ellie ______________________________________________________________

"Wind him up and watch him go," Nathan's old lieutenant used to say.

His temper has always gotten him into trouble. It's not that he's easily angered, it's that he doesn't fucking shut up when it happens, even if he's well aware it would be in his best interest. Dozens of fist fights throughout his life never taught him a damn thing.

Though a good hook from Danse would probably knock enough sense into him. It's been half an hour since Nate mouthed off to him in front of the entire mess hall, and he still isn't sure if he's relieved the Paladin has more self control than he does, or disappointed. Getting his ass kicked by his superior would probably do him some good in the long run. And fighting back would get all this hot, angry energy out of him. Much better than pacing the sleep deck.

He pictures that… look Danse gave him before he sternly dismissed him, all stone cold and superior as he stared at Nate with those pretty brown eyes. He could tell Danse had wanted to escalate, shove him down a peg, put him in his place. Thinks he's so much better because of his rank, even though he carries the most bullshit opinions in the history of ever. Everyone on this fucking blimp does.

It takes him a second to realize his pacing broke into a power walk to Danse's quarters. He tells himself what a shit idea it is to provoke him when he's already pissed, but Nate wants satisfaction. Both winning the argument or getting punched in the face would give him that.

“Nate…”

The edges of his mind tighten up at the sound of his name from behind the Paladin's door, and the way it was said has his gut doing summersaults. 

“Mmn…”

Nate moves on autopilot, opening the unlocked door and closing it behind him as Danse moves in fucking record time to tuck his cock back into his suit and stand. The blanket on his bed is ruffled, his zipper is against his lower stomach, face is flushed, and a blush flashbangs onto his neck and the tips of his ears.

“Keep going,” Nate orders. When Danse only continues to stare, he walks closer. “You gonna act like you weren’t just moanin’ my fuckin’ name? My nickname, like you fuckin’ know me?” He steps around the bed to where Danse stands and wraps a hand around the taller man's neck, over the scar he's never been close enough to notice.

And that's a mistake. 

He's on his back before he knows what happened, a massive Paladin straddling him with his own hand on Nate's throat now.

Isn't that the fuckin’ dream.

Nate's hips roll almost on their own accord, grinding up between Danse's thighs. A breath punches out of the man above him, his eyelids flutter. One second passes. Two. Three.

Time stops when Danse kisses him.

His teeth sink into Nate's bottom lip before his tongue traces over his, greedily. Nate rolls them over, and fuck, Danse lets him, hooking his legs over the vaultie's hips. He's warm even through the fabric of their uniforms, his skin fucking burning him. 

“Fucking proud little bitch,” Nate thrums as he grinds his cock against that heat. The moan it gets him is fucking beautiful. “Would rather fuck yourself to the thought of me than admit you want me.”

“Fuck you," Danse bites out.

Nate reins in the grin that almost cracks his face. He's always wanted to hear Danse lose his cool. “Not until you ask nicely. What’s the magic word?”

“You’re going to be sobbing it if you don’t hurry up.”

“And do what?”

A growl of frustration rips its way out of Danse's throat, hand rising to grip the back of Nate's collar. “Knight.” It isn’t his name, but it still has Nate grinding down. “That’s it,” Danse sighs, heels digging into Nate's ass. “For the love of god, just keep doing that.”

“If only there was some sugary sweet word that could get you your way–”

A punch to his jaw has him reeling back with a bark of surprised laughter, and then he's on his back again. One of Danse's thighs wedges under his and the other rests above, slotting them together like puzzle pieces as Danse bucks his hips, rubbing his cock over Nate's through their suits. He hums brokenly behind tight-pressed lips, putting all of his weight into the new rhythm. Nate takes one of his hips in hand and meets his movement, his confined cock throbbing.

“Look at you,” he taunts. “Dry humping me like a starved whore.” He fists Danse's hair and pulls him forward, tugging his head back so he can lick a trail between his exposed pecs. When Nate's back meets the bed again he drags the Paladin with him, pinning him to his chest with his arms, a hand gripping his ass to bring him down harder.

Danse could resist the control if he wanted to. Nate prides himself on his own strength, but god Danse is big, could take charge in a heartbeat. He's allowing Nate to boss him around, and it's giving him a power trip of unrivaled proportion.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Danse pants in his ear, the power of his body rocking Nate into the mattress.

“Kiss me again," the vaultie orders.

Danse obeys, fucking obeys, hands cradling Nate's face as he swallows down the smaller man's noises. It's almost lazy compared to the way their bodies move; impatient, desperate, months of tension coming out in a whirlwind. “You fucker…” Danse moans against his mouth.

“Gonna make you cum just from this,” Nate says, and that earns him a bite to the edge of his jaw where Danse had hit him, but he takes it in stride, digging his fingers into the fat of his ass. “Then I’m gonna turn you over, get my cock in you and fuck you like a goddamn mutt. And you’ll fucking let me, won’t you?”

Danse nods deliriously, again and again until his body tenses, jaw slack in a silent moan, brows furrowed, and Nate can feel the intense pulse of Danse's cock against his own. The sight and feel of him coming undone on top of him might just change Nate's life forever.

As soon as his body goes limp, Nate shoves him off and flips him over just as promised, but before he can so much as get the suit down Danse's shoulders, the door swings open.

Haylen is already a step inside the room when she screams like she had just come across a murder scene. "OH- OH MY GOD, I'M SO SORRY SIRS--" In her rush to turn around she bangs her face against the threshold and reels back before jumping out of the room and slamming the door behind her.