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periprose · 2 months

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Sweet as Nuka Cola

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader

You're an upcoming actress who has a constant flirtation with Cooper Howard. But even if things seem to be off to a good start, a nuclear bomb, a cryogenic pod, and two hundred years of carnage ruins all of it. Is there something to be salvaged from your relationship with Mr. Howard?

Genre: Mutual pining, flirting, slow-burn, angst, friends to kind-of enemies to lovers (no cheating but maybe it's a little murky?)

Word Count: 11k

“Action!”

“Hello. Yes, it’s me.” You wave at the camera, adorned in a classic-red sweetheart neckline dress. “You might know me from ‘Girls Want It All’ or ‘Next Door Babe.’”

Here, you play up your recent bombshell status. As Ed, the director of this advert, keeps reminding you, you need to sell yourself to make customers listen.

You sway in your dress, squeezing your arms and throwing your waist back to plump and push out your chest. The implication of the sex appeal in your movies keeps people watching.

But you’re still a rather new actress, so America might not know you so well. You’re glad Nuka Cola has hired you– if you want to be a star, you need more exposure.

“Do you enjoy feeling refreshed?” You cock your head to the camera, pursing your red lips. “Well, golly, what a silly question. Who doesn't?”

“That's where Nuka Cola comes in.” You lift a bottle out of the cooler next to you, all gentle in demeanour, showing off the logo of the bottle to the camera, in your perfectly manicured hands. “With triple the amount of caffeine found in competitor's bottled cola, it's sure to keep you feeling up for a long, long time.”

“And it's good for you.” Ed whispers, a last minute adlib you did not agree to, but you're a professional, so you add it on with a little wink.

“And it sure as heck is good for you.” You smile, the infamous smile that's won you notoriety to Hollywood execs for being the newest bombshell on the block, and you throw your shoulders back as you really lean into your image.

“Cut! That's a wrap, everyone!” Ed, wanting to finish early, quickly starts ushering everyone out so not a cent more gets spent.

You immediately relax out of your practised, professional smile. “Any ADR needed?”

“Don't think so, but we'll let you know.” The director is already moving onto whatever his next project is. Advertisements make more money than anything else these days.

You head over to catering, where you're craving– not a Nuka Cola, considering how much sugar is in that thing it's hardly refreshing at all– but an iced tea.

You stretch out your ankles in your kitten heels as you prepare it. If you told your Ma back in Mojave that the worst thing about fame would be the uncomfortable outfits, she'd smack you. So you keep it to yourself– you're grateful, you're humble, you'll never be an entitled asshole like those fucking execs.

“Watch out, I'm behind ya.” A man gently presses your shoulder as he walks next to you.

You know that voice. Famous movie cowboy, devilishly handsome, easy to admire. A career worth emulating.

“Mr. Howard?” You turn to look at him, and it is him. Wearing a tuxedo suit, smiling his classic, rugged grin at you.

“The one and the only.” He laughs in a self-deprecating way, as a man tired with his fame and used to mocking it. “Hey, wait, don't I know you?”

You immediately feel your face heat up. “Probably not– lots of people have mistaken me for Lucky Yates so far…”

“No, I do know you.” He points a finger at you, while pouring himself a mug of black coffee. “I told you mister, I'm not here for a long time. Just a good one, and if you can't provide it for me, I'll be inclined to look elsewhere.”

Cooper Howard does a perfect impression of your girly, haughty tone from “Girls Want It All”, and it surprises you that he even knows your dialogue that well. You're not used to this much attention, especially not from one of Hollywood's most notable movie stars.

He says your name.

“Yeah, that's me.” You say sheepishly– even though you know you have to fake that confidence, it's hard when you've been caught off guard. You're starstruck– you don't know how to operate, now realizing that even celebrities are noticing you. “Just shooting an ad for Nuka-Cola.”

“Ah, that’s smart of you.” He leans in– about to give you a bit of Hollywood advice, no doubt– and you feel yourself turning warm at the attention he’s giving you. “I wouldn’t expect any less from one of Hollywood’s upcoming stars– residuals aren’t enough to make the world go round.”

You know he’s admiring your street smarts, but you have to ask. “Upcoming, really?”

“Miss, I’m not sure many other actresses could’ve delivered that little monologue I just did without, er, pardon my language,” Cooper takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes peering down at you over the perimeter of the cup. “Fucking it up. Pantomiming too much wily, feminine shit that execs love, without that little edge of real, subtle emotion. I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

You giggle a little. “C’mon, really? I hardly got to act the way I wanted to.”

“That’s how it starts. Little moments, little subtleties where you’re letting your real character shine through– it’s noticeable to the industry. More opportunities come that way. But it’s smart to use, uh…” Cooper swallows, a tiny, imperceptible thing that reminds you of your bombshell image, that he must be thinking about it. “Smart to use such attractive imagery, if you get my drift. The public will eat you up.”

The way he drawls that latter part makes you feel excited, but you keep it down– it’s well known Cooper Howard is a married man, and you are not about to be ruined by an affair. Even if he does sound sort of flirty, this sort of complimenting is so common in Hollywood.

“What are you doing in the advertisement shooting lot?” You ask, changing the subject, and Cooper shrugs, a nonchalant ripple of a movement that tells you his general cool demeanour isn’t just acting.

“Promised my wife I’d shoot an advert for her. Vault-Tec, you know?” He admits, telling you he hasn’t forgotten about his wife, either. “Gotta head to the experimental Vault they’ve set up next door.”

“Yes, of course.” You, like anyone else, have seen the ads of Cooper in the Vault-Tec suit– it’s a rather controversial thing to be partaking in, but you think he knows what he’s doing.

“Well, Nuka-Cola.” He hands you an iced tea– one you didn’t even notice him making for you as you were talking to him. “I’ll see you around.”

The Ghoul walks around the wasteland, two hundred something years into the future.

He’s searching for a bounty– Leopold St. West– worth at least 1000 caps, and it’s terribly difficult to find him when every single person claims he’s in all these different locations, not a single one correlated to each other.

So he’s walking around a destroyed neighbourhood, where Leopold was last seen a day ago, if his fellow ghouls are to be trusted. If he had to guess, these are the remnants of China Town– the faux Asian-esque details, the cheesy red colouring, the false authenticity Hollywood loves to portray as “good as the real thing”. God, Coop does not miss some parts of the fame.

He suddenly stumbles over a piece of the broken sidewalk. Coop’s usually pretty agile, nonchalant on his feet– he knows this feeling. He’s going through withdrawal.

“Shit, I need a minute.” He mutters to himself, feeling a bit woozy.

He's only got a couple more vials of drugs, so he can't be using them all willy-nilly. No, he needs to recoup things and go through this carefully.

Shelter is necessary– the longer Coop is out in the sun, the harsher the effects of withdrawal feel. And, if he’s lucky, one of these buildings might have something for him to loot– more drugs if he’s extra, extra lucky.

Coop enters a nondescript building– where a radroach is waiting, and he immediately fires at it without even looking, killing it in one shot– and he sees the sign over the entry way, marking the lobby.

This is some Hollywood executive-owned club. It’s hard to tell– two hundredyears of wear-and-tear will do that for you– but Cooper Howard distinctly remembers this place, maybe in some conversation back then, maybe when he was networking.

Every single thing has a distinct, thick layer of grime over it. Coop thinks of sweaty strippers dancing, actors cheating on their wives– they’re all probably dead now.

He reaches into his satchel and takes a hit of one of his vials– and hopes he can replace what he uses with something here.

There’s not a single bottle behind the bar, and he jostles through, not seeing a chem or a drug left behind by anyone on the floor or behind the counter, and he’s mildly disgruntled over how every place has nearly everything picked clean by raiders, wastelanders– just other people. Coop will always loathe these other assholes.

He climbs the broken stairs with a lanky, languid stretch, making it over a fairly large hole where a corpse waits on the floor below. A raider who didn’t watch where he was stepping. That tells him there should be loot up on this upper floor– at least a bit of it.

He walks to the one closed door in a less-than-discreet hallway, gold sconces and railings marking the way.

“Ah… private office.” Coop jiggles an ostentatious handle to a mahogany door, that is surely leading to an even more pretentiously ostentatious office, and he finds that it’s locked.

A good sign. Most likely no one’s ever been in there, because it’s probably a difficult lock to pick.

It surprises him that no one’s ever just forced their way through.

Coop doesn’t waste time on this though– he just takes a teeny gun out of his bag, fires it, and admires the hole in the door where the handle used to be. The door creaks open on it’s own, and he saunters into a well furnished, dusty office room.

“Nope, nope, nope…” He pushes box after box in the shelves next to the wall, and they fall with loud clatter– loaded with panicky, nuclear-war-on-the-horizon type shit, like canned meats and beans and preserved jams and pickles. “Fuck no.”

He pushes off a toy figurine of Vault Boy down with extra gusto.

Coop looks behind the desk, where there’s a dusty placard reading Adrian Amos II. He grins– one of the worst producer bastards of all time is not someone he’d feel bad about stealing from, even if there was still some conscience left in him. No, sir, Adrian Amos the second did not deserve any sympathy, especially after the way he was known for bitching about salaries, abusing PAs, and having a predilection for going after less-than-consenting women.

Coop grits his teeth, remembering that asshole and how terrible and gaudy this club was back then. Not that it was better now– but he’s grateful for one man’s deserved death, at least.

He jostles open where the second drawer is filled with the glass clinking sound of many, many vials.

“Fucking jackpot, Jesus.” Coop stares down at how many there are– at least 40 or 50– a hell of a lot to just be left behind.

Well, based on the other supplies, Adrian Amos got fucked over and either didn’t make it to his vault in time, or forgot to run to his private club before heading in.

Coop doesn’t give a fuck, though. He starts piling the vials into his cases, and then back into his bag.

There’s a sudden whirring sound near him. “Huh?”

To his left, an imperceptible secret door has pushed itself outwards, decorated in the same dark brown wallpaper as the rest of the room.

Coop looks down and under– he’s accidentally pressed a secret button on the underside of the drawer. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t know what would be inside the secret room– assassins, raiders waiting on someone to dupe? Maybe even synths, just meant to protect Amos when he needed it.

Inside the room, it’s dark, and he can’t make out anything. Coop can only draw his gun rapidly when there’s a blue light suddenly emitting out from the inside.

He’s careful as he approaches– last thing Coop wants is an ambush– and as his vision improves, he sees it’s a cryonic pod, all frosted over so he can’t make out who’s inside.

Coop sighs, ready to leave it behind– he’s not interested in waking up Amos– and instead, the thing whirs, heating up it’s insides with extremely hot steam, and then opens up with a mechanical flourish.

Coop instinctively steps back, coughing “Holy shit!” as the air whooshes past him.

A body falls out, just looking slightly frosted– mostly thawed by whatever the cryo tank just did.

You're on set again, sitting in a free lawn chair while others get ready for their take– it's not for a Nuka-Cola ad, it's just a guest appearance on everyone's favourite sitcom, The Grady Group, where you play an overly promiscuous babysitter who has no sense for watching over kids.

It's comedic, it's an easy way to get laughs– plus it actually boosts the shows’ ratings since you've been in movies and all. You’re done filming already, you’re just sitting here watching the rest of the shoot, dragging out your return to your car, and then back home.

Something about the fictional family you wait on, Gill and Gina Grady, and their kids Gideon, Gessica, and Gwen, it makes you miss having a family of your own. In fact, you have half a mind to call your mother, despite all the bitching she’ll give you about the things you haven’t done yet.

It also doesn't help that Gill and Gina are a couple in real life– named Arthur and Bea Smith, they really, really are in love, and in between takes they're often canoodling with each other.

You're happy for them, if not a little– jealous, despite the fact that you're not interested in dating anyone right now. At least, you thought you weren't, but you find that lately, when you return back to your apartment all lonesome after a shoot, you feel like something is missing.

“Hey. Nuka-Cola.” Cooper Howard strolls over to where you're sitting, and you smile up at him, covering your eyes from the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“Mr. Howard. Shooting today?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

“Not at all. Just lounging around, waiting for my kid.” He sits in the lawn chair next to you, leaning back, crossing one leg over the other. “Janey is on a field trip at a museum next door– I thought I’d kill some time before picking her up.”

“Ah, cute.” You grin. Janey Howard is an absolutely precious kid– she shares her dad’s smile, but has a curious nature that you admire. “Is she well?”

“As well as kids can be at that age, running around all the time.” Cooper shrugs. “You know how it is.”

“Kind of. I actually did used to babysit kids, so I know– they can never sit still or mind their business.” You laugh as Cooper grins.

“So you went method for your guest appearance, huh?” He asks, and you’re mildly baffled.

“How do you know about that?” You squint at him, just being jokingly suspicious.

“Oh, I saw a few clips of your footage. While I was walking over here.” He points over at Stu, the director, standing on the living room set, watching clips on his viewfinder. “Seemed pretty natural to me.”

It almost bothers you that he seems so interested in you and your work, that he always voices support– but he’s well-known for being happily married, for being content in general, unlike you.

Still, better a friend than nothing at all, that’s what you always tell yourself.

“Thanks. But it’s not hard being around kids, is it?” You reminisce being a kid in Mojave, playing with your friends on your street– and then as a young adult, babysitting new kids that still wanted to play with you. “I still sometimes feel like I’m just a kid pretending to be an adult.”

“That never goes away, darlin’.” Cooper laughs, and you blink. “Being an actor, especially, you’re never losing that childhood sense of wonder, you get my drift?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nod. “I just don’t feel complete, I guess. I’m still waiting for the moment I’ll know I’m an adult– like maybe if I get married or something like that.”

“Being married didn’t change that for me either. Neither did being a dad.” He winces, and scratches at his stubble. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that, but I think it’s all apart of being a human person.”

Your face turns a little more glum at that, and he wonders what he said that bummed you out. It’s not his intention– he wants to cheer you up.

“What’s with the sad, forlorn, ‘I’m-a-pretty-girl-come-comfort-me’ look?” Cooper utters as he leans in, and you laugh a little but silence yourself, recognizing his compliment.

It’s dangerous to flirt with this guy, this taken man who has nothing to gain but a bit of affection he may be missing, but you see that he knows his compliment had effect anyways– and he definitely likes that.

You just choose to assume it’s entirely friendly.

“I just… I like the thought of having a family.” You suck in air,at how foolish and girly this sounds, hardly the cutthroat businesswoman you need to be out here. “This is stupid, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it isn’t.” Cooper taps his arm rest, thinking. “You’re hurting, I can tell. You got that same pissed off look most ladies get when they ‘don’t wanna talk’ but they’re holding tons of shit inside.”

Damn this guy, you think, but you decide to be honest.

“I just didn’t think it’d be so lonely out here. In Hollywood.” You press your palms together. “Like, everywhere I go, I’m surrounded by classic Americana, the nuclear family– and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m jealous.”

“As a bachelorette, don’t you got plenty of options?” Cooper grins. “I mean, are men not lining up to court Nuka-Cola girl?”

“Ah…” You hum, thinking of dates you’ve had here, settling back in your seat. “I don’t know– it’s cheesy but I want more sincerity.”

“In that case, don’t be jealous, marriage ain’t all that.” Cooper tuts, knowing that you of all people should hear about how it doesn’t complete you. “It’s not perfect, it’s not a magical fairy-tale where everything gets solved, it’s a hell of a lot more work than people let on.”

“Oh.” You knew that, deep down– but hearing it from him really solidifies that for you. It’s a silly dream.

It sounds like he’s speaking from experience, so you quiet down. But you’re not trying to get your hopes up about that or anything.

“And you’re not an idiot, Nuka-Cola. Don’t get into something you’re not a hundred fucking percent sure about.” Cooper clicks his tongue. “If you really feel the urge to suddenly go and play wife with someone, just for me, make sure he’s absolutely worth it.”

“For you?” You raise your eyebrows at that.

“I figure you won’t do it for yourself. Love is blind and all that.” He points at himself. “But if I, as your buddy Cooper, hold you to that? I’ll bet that you’ll vet every single guy.”

“Oh, really.” You smirk at him, your nose scrunching a little. “Is that for my benefit, or yours?”

“Uh…” Cooper is truly caught off guard here. He knows he didn’t intend anything by what he said, but it does feel like… he won’t enjoy the fact that if the next few times he talks to you, continuing become close to you, he’ll have to get the approval of some man.

Some man who wouldn’t even know you as long he has known you. He always likes his chats with you, and there’s an urge inside him not to let you go.

He thinks again that you’re a little too spontaneous. Not easy to dupe, no– he can’t just flirt with you for fun because you’ll always pick up on it, even if he did it by mistake.

“No comment.” He finally answers with a raspy, low tone, one that you barely hear but are satisfied by.

A few months later, you check your face in your little compact mirror before stuffing it in your purse and heading inside Sebastian Leslie’s home. Exciting, yes, because this is the first time you’ve been invited not just to network, not just because a big name has seen you in the movies and wants to flaunt that they know you tangentially.

No, this is the first time you know someone, you’re actually in with a crowd– you’re friends with the host. You don’t feel nearly as awkward walking into Sebastian’s comfortable home and seeing familiar faces that you’re close with, decor that you already recognize.

“There she is.” Sebastian greets you with a tight hug– for a massive flirt he’s actually rather protective of you sometimes. “Love the dress, by the way– is that a vintage Chanel? Black is very flattering on you, my dear.”

You get the sense he didn’t want you to be involved in this industry sometimes, but other times– he likes that you put work in.

“I saw your newest advertisement on TV yesterday.” He comments, and you giggle.

“Was it good?”

“Yeah, amazing as usual– but you gotta do more than that.” Sebastian holds your hand as he pulls you into the crowd of other low-level actors, people who could risk showing up, really, and you fix your dress, a black one with a low square neckline. “Look into Vault-Tec– I’ve been telling Cooper here about how our futures are totally going to be surrounded by their products, even though that fucker does not want to listen.”

Cooper’s lounging in a low sofa in the pit of this living room, holding a crystal glass full of amber liquid, black button up shirt half open– he looks dishevelled, hair slightly askew, jaw off-kilter as he presses his tongue into his cheek, thinking. Lost by something, but still put together as celebrities are. Geez, you really need to temper your attraction to him.

It doesn’t help how he looks at you, either– there’s something deep and reverent about his gaze, like he wants to believe whatever he sees when he’s looking at you– but you have no idea if it’s real, or if it’s just an act like with most of these celebrities.

You used to see him a lot more frequently too, over the last few months. Either at set, or at more fancy parties– most of which he’s been perfectly pleasant and kind to you.

“Of course you’d label me as some fucking chairman for them, Seabass.” Cooper slams back half a pint of whisky, and pours himself some more. “Hey, Nuka-Cola.”

“Hey, Mr. Howard.” You smile gently. You’ve heard about his divorce– everyone has, but you’re not 100% sure why it’s happened, why now when things seemed to be going so well for him.

Well is relative, though. You know loads of actors have decried him privately– no one wants to hang out with the man promoting the end of the world, apparently. It must be a tough thing to only be hired for your wife’s advertisements– and even then, you don’t exactly agree with what they’re marketing, either.

You don’t feel so strongly against Cooper, though. Maybe because you do like him– but also because you know what it’s like to have your image connected to something you don’t really promote. Nuka-Cola isn’t healthy, it’s got enough sugar to induce instant death when drank regularly. But you do it for the connections, the money– and you’re sure Cooper did too.

“Cooper is fine.” He grumbles, and you remember his last name is maybe a sore subject right now.

“Sorry.” You do your best to be delicate as you sit next to him, and Sebastian sits on the other side of you. “How’re you, Cooper?”

“Not bad. If you count being divorced as being alright.” He sighs, and you feel terrible that you even asked. “It’s like I never knew her, man– I thought Barb was different. Or they changed her, I don’t fucking know.”

“She had her eyes set on the prize. As did you, Coop.” Sebastian states, and Cooper turns, affronted.

“We’re all interested in money and glory, Seabass. Fuck you if you think otherwise.” Cooper tenses, and you feel a bit awkward listening in on this conversation.

“What did I say that negates that? I’m as money hungry as they come.” Sebastian shrugs. ��I only meant that– despite it all, making money was what you had in common, evidently not the world-going-nuclear shit. Maybe you’ve got a heart of gold, a change of mind, I don’t know, Cooper. But throwing away an easy life just to pay alimony must be fucking awful, so I just don’t think you’re in it for the money anymore.”

“You’re fucking telling me.” Cooper sniggers. “I don’t think Barb cares. I’m here with no career, and she’s out there getting promoted in Vault-Tec. As for the heart of gold… any former marine would’ve been against that shit.”

You want to ask what shit, but you don’t want to overstep your boundaries. You get the general fear of nuclear war– but Cooper sounds more personally affected by it.

Cooper glances over at you. “What do you think? Better to be richer than you can spend in a lifetime, or to be out with a good conscience?”

“I don’t know if I’m that interested in money.” You say honestly, and Cooper raises his eyebrows.

“Really? Nuka-Cola’s a saint, huh.” He chuckles– he’s clearly a bit buzzed.

“No, I’m not. Of course I want to have a career.” You think about this carefully, so it doesn’t sound insincere. “Making money is nice– but I don’t think I have the right to say it should come at the cost of human lives. You know Nuka-Cola is terrible for you, right? ”

Cooper stares at you for a moment too long, and then looks away. “Yeah… addicting.”

He’s definitely not talking about Cola, but you continue on. “Yeah, so just in that way– I disagree with how much power marketing has. We’ve convinced America that they need this– just so some chairman can make an extra dollar.”

Cooper looks at you, renewed by whatever you just said. “Hell, woman after my own heart. That’s damn true.”

“Yes, yes, you two oblivious flirts– there’s no art in filmmaking anymore, just commercialism. Not like it hasn’t been the case for a century.” Sebastian chimes in, and you bite your lip, pretending not to notice how Cooper’s face is smirking bashfully. “But, babe. You’re going to want to make your money before the world fucking ends.”

“What’s that?” You startle, and Cooper laughs sardonically at your surprise, while Sebastian gets up.

“Let me get myself a drink– I hardly want to tell this story sober.” He leaves, and Cooper has half a heart to glare at him– he knows Sebastian is leaving the two of you alone so he can do the dirty work.

Not like his reputation can ever get better, especially by telling this story again with it’s lurid details, but at least it doesn't hurt that he's with you.

“What does he mean by that, Mr. Howard?” You wince at your use of that. “Sorry– I meant Cooper.”

“Ah, call me what you’d like.” Cooper takes another sip of his drink, leaning back in the couch to the point where he is practically lying down and against you. “It sounds good coming out of your mouth no matter what you pick, Nuka-Cola.”

Now that’s a suggestive, loaded line, and you feel a little more comfortable flirting with him even if it’s a bit of a rebound for him. The end of the world is approaching, right?

“The end of the world?” You prod at him, and he sighs, leaning against your shoulder.

“It’s fucking ridiculous, what it is… probably never going to happen anytime soon.” Cooper’s tone of voice is hazy as he examines his last sip of whisky in the glass. “No, no. Just something those fucking commies put in my head. I guess they’re not really commies, are they?”

“Unless you elaborate, I can’t say.” You utter back at him, and he pushes down a smile.

“Alright. Vault-Tec’s been selling this nuclear protective stuff, right?” He says, and you nod, your cheek brushing against the top of his hair. “All I can say is that a few… radicals, if you will, think that Vault-Tec might actually be more involved with it than they say. Like, they might be…”

“Not just protective, huh? More offensive? Everyone’s got that feeling, Mr. Howard. And that doesn't sound like a particularly commie-train-of-thought to me.” You hear the sorrow in his tone, even if he’s trying to make it sound like a rumour. “Did you hear this from your ex-wife?”

Cooper winces here. He still feels slightly guilty about spying on her. A part of him thinks they might’ve not divorced if he hadn’t found out– but he knows he was bound to find out eventually, and he would’ve just delayed the inevitable.

“Maybe, Cola. Maybe you’re just sharp.” He whispers, and you smile and he feels it– your skin is intoxicatingly close right now.

“So, odds are?” You ask, just curious, and he exhales.

“Bad. I have to agree with them.” He admits, and it feels exhilarating to admit this– that Vault-Tec is gonna nuke the world at some point, that the radicals are more like minded to him than he’s wanted to believe in the past. “Even if it didn’t cost my movies, I regret partaking in what they were selling.”

That’s a big thing for him to say– you know Cooper loves acting, he absolutely adores playing a hardened sheriff, the last vestige of goodness in the wild, wild west. All the times you’ve visited him on his set– probably during his last contractual movie, now that you think about it– and he was always so excited to show off the architecture and intricacies of the fictional western town they’d set up, share script details and little character quirks so you could have an insider’s viewpoint. He even donned his cowboy hat on you, saying you wore it like a natural.

He loved being the hero, really.

He lights a cigarette, and takes a puff.

“Most big-name connections refuse to talk to me because of this stuff– I’ve basically been dropped out of phonebooks all together. They think I’m still in on it, they think I’ve only stopped because of backlash–” He stops as you begin to scratch his scalp, still leaning against your shoulder, but getting progressively into your neck area.

Jesus, that feels good. He thinks. He hasn’t been intimate in a while– Barb became increasingly more cold to him over the last few months, as their marriage kept falling apart.

“Backlash, really?” You whisper.

“Yeah.” He stutters for just a moment, because your eyes are peering into his, and for a moment he thinks you could really make it as just a bombshell if you wanted to– then he takes another puff. “When really, I was just backing out of what I thought was really a massive crime against humanity.”

“Are you only telling me this to validate your poor conscience? Remedy that reputation a little?” You ask, and he presses his lips together.

“Well, I'll be honest, yeah. Of fucking course I'd tell the one woman who seems to be like me on this.” He sounds so certain of you, sounds so sure that you're on his side.

And you absolutely are.

“The world’s about to end, Mr. Howard. You're not a bad man for not wanting to support it. I'm inclined to agree.” You inhale deeply, and Cooper stares at you– something stirs inside him as he does.

“Kiss me, then. Humour me– since none of this will matter soon.” Cooper murmurs, lying on top of your chest now, the smoke from his cigarette enveloping your face.

He’s so close you barely have to move to oblige to what he’s said– you're second guessing yourself for just a moment, because it feels like a dream that he'd ask you to do this, so out of the blue, such a picture perfect fantasy that you almost don't care about the impending doom, and you press your lips gently to his in an upside-down kiss, his hair brushing against your open cleavage, but Cooper is insistent and leans upward, kissing you with such intensity that your head is spinning afterwards.

God, now that's a movie star kiss. You think.

He kisses you again as Sebastian returns, drink in hand.

“Oi! You two. Jesus Christ, can't keep your hands off each other, can you?” Sebastian pretends to vomit. “C’mon, if I want to talk to you at my party, I should have that right.”

You attempt to pull away– but Cooper, being a little mischevious, perhaps wanting to show off in a way he hasn’t been able to, sits up right and kisses you again, this time normally, just very slowly and passionately though, slithering an arm around your waist in a way that has Sebastian rolling his eyes.

“Okay, present.” He says, not pulling his arm off your waist.

“Thanks.” Sebastian shakes his head. “I was thinking we should take the mood off with some party games…”

It's about 2 AM when you've finally left the party. Cooper didn't want to let you go– he's crashing at an apartment for the time being, but you really don't want to waste yourself on being his rebound, if he really likes you.

You tell him as much, and he likes that– you really are rather sharp about things.

“Well. Gimme a call when you realize I'm not kidding around with you.” He says unabashedly, holding your hand, kissing it as you leave.

You’re absolutely sure he's drunk, and he's being a little too clingy– but you want to believe him anyways.

You walk back to your car, alone. Thinking about if Cooper is worth the damage it could have on your potential career. But then again– the end of the world is coming, right?

So maybe it won’t matter. And you find that you like this, the secret potential of this option, just hanging out with Cooper in a place that used to be America, no more expectations on you both. There’s also the chance you just both die, though.

You shudder.

You don't notice that there's a man in the backseat of your car when you get in, brandishing a chloroform stained cloth.

The Ghoul prods at the body that's just fallen out of the cryo pod.

Oh fuck.

It's starting to stir, whoever it is, and Coop knows he's ready, if this is really some synthetic android-clone thing, to make their life hell. Get some of his anger out on something that doesn’t matter.

Wait– he recognizes that cherry red fabric. That coiffed hair, frosty after being inside the pod. Oh, Jesus… even the makeup is the same as when he last saw you.

“Ah… shit.” He chuckles to himself in exasperation, because this is beyond belief. “Nuka-Cola, is that you?”

You tilt yourself to the side, eyes bleary, unable to see clearly. Everything’s dark. But you know that voice, you just heard it a couple of days ago.

“Mr. Howard?” You croak out, and he hisses inwards– nobody has called him that in centuries. Nobody knows who he is… except for you, of course.

“The one and the same, baby.” He licks the side of his gums, deciding to stick with his identity for now. “Well, maybe a little different. You wouldn't happen to know what a Ghoul is, huh?”

“What?” You don't know how long your vision is going to stay black for, but you don't like the sound of that. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Eyes haven't been opened for… two hundred years. I'll give you some time, Cola.” He sighs; cracks his neck, while you sink back into the floor. “Just imagine the ugliest horror-picture monster you can imagine. Zombie, no nose. That paint a picture for you?”

“...”

“What was that?” Coop can't hear you when your voice is muffled into the tiles of this secret room. He grasps your hair gently, from the root, pulling your head upwards so you'll speak– clearly you don't have the strength to lift up your body.

“I said, how is that any different from before?”

“Oh, she's still a jokester.” Coop scoffs– despite himself he snorts– and he lets go of your hair so you land back on the floor with a thump.

“–Ow!” You flinch, and then turn over so you’re on your back. “Still an asshole, huh?”

“Me?” He grins maliciously. Ooh, maybe he can use some misplaced anger on you. “You're the one who didn't call back for several weeks.”

“How could I? You can see I've been trapped in a cryo thing for… however long. Did you say two hundred years?” You flatly ask, and Coop still thinks you're lying.

“Yes, and bullshit. You probably had a couple weeks since I last saw you to call me.” He states, and he doesn’t actually hold a grudge, at least not that much of it in comparison to all the other horrid shit that’s happened to him– he just thinks it's funny to push your buttons after all of that, like looking into a mirror of the past– and you groan.

“No, I didn't. I got in my car after Sebastian's party, and some goon sprayed something in my face, I passed out, and he drove me here.” You start, and you begin frowning in such a way that Coop almost feels bad.

“Why you, sweetheart?” He shakes his head. “You weren't exactly high up in popularity yet.”

“Exactly. No one would miss me.” You spit out bitterly, remember the end to that night, where you were so unaware of your surroundings, and terrified of being assaulted as you were pushed around into this room, blindfolded.

“Adrian fucking Amos, the fucking Second, thought it would be great if I just became his permanent doll during the apocalypse.” You swallow, and Coop sits down next to you, to listen more clearly. You shift towards his body heat– and to his surprise, he still likes that. “See, his daddy has shares in Vault-Tec, so he decided before nuclear fallout happened, he wanted a guaranteed sex slave from his favourite advertisements.”

“Nuka-Cola.” Coop utters with the slowest drawl, concluding your statement– and you like that.

“Yeah, Nuka fucking Cola.” You grimace. “Then he undressed me, put me in this little number, and threw me in the pod. I barely remember this shit because I was so out of it.”

“Shame. I always wondered why you never called me back.” Coop circles back to his little grudge– but he also feels bad, feels some level of guilt that neither he nor Sebastian had the sense to look out for you back then, and you were practically assaulted (maybe actually so if you didn't remember).

“Yeah, because I wanted to miss out on that piece of ass. Sure.” You joke feebly, and Coop laughs despite himself.

“Honey, you're gonna run away screaming when you finally see me. Don't worry about it.” He shakes his head. “The real world's a lot more fucking difficult than would'ves and could'ves.”

“Okay, explain. If you're willing to owe me that much.” You start, and Coop gets reminded of that fateful night a couple hundred years ago, where he was the one to clue you into the impending nuclear war.

Not even three months later, it was all over, and you were nowhere in sight– if his mind ever did drift to you, the what-ifs and who-knows that still persisted– he would always assume you were dead.

Now he thinks you're just unfinished business.

“Fine.” He taps your shoulder, and you lean a little closer towards him– you touch his hand, and instead of flinching as many people have in the past– you trace the tough, callused skin there.

He thinks there’s something wrong with you. Why do you seem drawn to him anyways? You’re completely fucking up his tough guy, lone-wolf persona by being here, and he wants you gone. He pulls away his hand, ignoring how your face falls for a moment.

Coop inhales, and then starts. “In October 2077, they nuked America, bombed it all to hell. By they, I think we both know what I’m implying.”

“It wasn’t the Chinese.” You interrupt, and he shushes you.

“Yeah, Cola.” He starts playing with his fingers, feeling like you don’t deserve to be here right now. That you should’ve just stayed dead. “Vault-Tec destroyed it all.”

It’s no good. He’s an old man, and you’re still as soft and young as ever. He’s always haunted by his past, like with Barb and Janey, and then Sebastian’s voice in every single Mr. Handy robot he comes by, and then finally, his last couple memories with you.

“The last two hundred something years have been filled with carnage, death, unspeakable horrors that your pretty little mind could never comprehend.” He grits out, pushing past the past and remembering that this is who he is now– a killer– and you stare at him vacantly, because his tone is so much more serious suddenly. “Nothing is the same. Everyone has blood on their hands, water is a fucking commodity, if you’re not watching out for humans to betray you, hideous creatures like me roam the ground, and that ground? Sands, deserts, barely a hint of green. It’s nothing worth coming back to.”

“So you’re saying I’m in hell.” You suddenly inhale harshly, and Coop ignores the urge to check on you.

The last thing he needs is an extra person to take care of– especially someone who doesn’t know the Wasteland. So it’s better now that he just weans you off and leaves you here.

“Yeah, sweetheart. And I'm the devil.” Coop sucks on his teeth again. “If you had any sense, you’d go back into that fucking freezer until some utopia is born four hundred years from–”

You flinch, and he stops.

“Oh, God, my eyes–”

The sight comes back slowly then all at once. Light everywhere, overwhelming your senses.

You blink, tears rolling down your face.

“Maybe it would’ve been better if you stayed blind, Cola.” He stares at you as you rub your eyes, taking in the state of the room.

It’s a warning, but you look up at him again anyways. And Coop waits for the utter horror, for the sign that he really has transformed into a monster, so he can hurry up and leave– this entire conversation with you is just him finishing Cooper Howard’s past with a bow. A shiny, Nuka-Cola-red bow.

“...” You swallow, and then bite your lip, tilting your head up at him. “Couldn’t let go of the cowboy identity, huh?”

Coop furrows his non-existent eyebrows, disliking how hard you’re making this, how clever you still seem to be– you also seem way too relaxed with him. He has half a mind to fire a warning shot at you. “Yeah, okay, darlin’. You’re just avoiding facing that horrific, bile-inducing sensation in your throat, aren’t you?”

You shake your head, disagreeing immediately. “You might look– a little less like how I remember you, I guess… but you’re still you. I see it, and apparently so do you.”

How dare you? Coop thinks, how dare you intertwine his two images together so easily when he could never be the same man again, when just seeing an old VHS tape of one of his movies pains him?

“Yeah, no thanks. If this is your way to get me to valet you around, I’m not that man anymore, Nuka-Cola.” He resents the way you think he could still be good– just because his western image brings him a little comfort nowadays. “Not a sheriff anymore.”

Your face drops, but you seem to take that information readily. “Yeah, I figured that based on your outfit, the little blood splatters on your pants… if that’s how the world is, then so be it.”

You’re saying things that on paper should be right– but Coop is getting more and more disgruntled with you, and you feel like you need to separate yourself from him. Yes, tough, because to you it’s been all of forty-eight hours since you kissed him– but you can see, no matter how deep the original Cooper Howard is inside this new Ghoul, you’re not going to be able to bring him out.

You stand up, on shaky, bare feet, and motion for Coop to move out of the way. Independent woman to the end, you are, and you want to get your bearings without him.

Coop internally sighs. He doesn’t believe for one second you’ll survive out there– and he really doesn’t need to spend the time seeing you die, so he turns around, and leaves you here.

He never did find Leopold St. West, much to his chagrin– you really, really messed up his day.

It happens. Sometimes he’ll see Janey in another person’s eyes and freak out, and have to boil it down by murdering random raiders.

But now Coop is just spiteful. He’s always figured that a lot of what happened to the world was just a bunch of rich people picking and choosing a destiny for themselves to the detriment of everyone else, and now he’s aware that included you, too. To casually be grabbed away by some man, just because he was rich… Coop isn’t unsympathetic to how you ended up, even if he treated you quite poorly. It’s sickening.

Two hundred years of quiet, always-dwelling agony, the first few years out of fear for being alone, and the next few years spent conspiring about what could’ve happened to his family– and then here you are as confirmation of his worst theories.

No wonder he enjoys his casket time.

Coop sighs.

Vaultie is hard to keep track of. She got away with murder this time at the organ harvesting clinic– so Coop finds it easier to stop working with her, to move when he wants to.

The Govermint (really just Booker’s shitty gang) was rather easy to dismantle. The two sheriffs that he killed required no expertise on his part.

He’s thinking about the fact that since Moldaver is still alive, and apparently that fucker Hank MacLean, then that means there’s a good chance Barb and Janey are too– perhaps he could go and find them.

It’s an odd urge, though. Everytime he thinks about it, he wonders how he’s actually supposed to connect with them again– they’ve been fractured for so long, and he’s changed, and there’s a good chance neither of them would accept him like this.

But you did, didn’t you? You were on the verge of saying yes, you’d accept him– as if nothing had changed.

Coop grumbles. The big, significant difference is that you were infatuated with him, but Barb divorced him, and Janey was too young to make that choice. He considers that it could be a pipe dream, but he still has hope– for Janey, at least.

He thinks you’re probably dead anyways. He hasn’t seen you in several months, since that day where he unceremoniously woke you up– and he hopes it stays that way.

He's chilling in another small, scrappy area of the wasteland. Nobody bothers the Ghoul, not when he's casually fiddling with his gun and and chewing on a toothpick.

A man runs past him, holding a significantly valuable piece of Brotherhood equipment. Maybe worth thousands of caps if he knows his shit, and he does. That’s a fusion core, and they’re not exactly mass producing those anymore during the apocalypse.

Coop points his gun at him, finger on the trigger, seconds away from creating a bloody mess–

A blade thwacks into the guy’s neck, blood spurting as he falls and chokes. A person– a woman– jumps on his back, her face obscured by a deep green bandana . She yanks out the knife, stabs a few more times for good measure– and Coop knows the game, he’s not surprised he’s not the only one to go after this guy.

He’s pretty good at killing casually, and he barely even moves from where he’s standing, aiming the gun at her.

No way is he letting easy money pass by him.

He’s about to pull the trigger extra-quick when she yanks the bandana down, taking a deep breath as she sweats, and Coop actually misses.

It’s you. You stare up at him from where you’re squatting over the body, and your gaze hardens, furrowed brows, dark lashes, intensely dark pupils. You purse your lips, press them together, jaw set in a stern fashion, recognizing him but refusing to hear him out– and Coop doesn’t know why he’s not firing, but he’s almost… enamoured with how you are now, almost taken aback by your new nature.

Not so taken aback that he doesn’t immediately start firing when you take the fusion core and start running.

And Coop doesn’t want to actually kill you, he just wants to incite some damage. See how far you can take it.

You interweave through random gaps in the metal scraps of this little abode, seeking shelter as you do so, and Coop’s gunfire only ricochets off them with cartoony sounding “pings!”

He manages to graze your left thigh through a small window, and you inhale sharply, stopping as you grit through the pain.

Coop grins to himself. This little cat and mouse chase is what he expected, what was predictable from you– you’re smart enough to stay on the defense, but you would probably never attack him, avoiding him because of your sad feelings of the old times, never resort to carnage unless you needed to–

You shove past the walls where you’ve been roaming, and manage one kick against his stomach and he manages to grab you and restrain you, your back against his front.

You grab his own jacket for purchase, and instead of pulling forward– you push back, landing on top of him with a thud that surely hurts him. Coop clenches his teeth, back against the ground now, but you scramble, straddling him. Hands around his throat, knife pressed against one of his tendons. Not outright strangling him, but just enough pressure that he knows you’re seriously threatening him.

Holy fuck, have you changed. Just like Vaultie, maybe you’re showing your honest self– and Coop supposes it may have been his mistake to underestimate you.

“Got a whole new outfit… I like it.” He admires your new leather jacket, cargo pants around your thighs pushing his arms down, a blouse fashioned out of your old Nuka-Cola dress. Tough combat boots dig into his thighs as you push against him. “Don’t fucking start–” You squeeze a little harder and he groans, the tip of the knife pushing in. “With your on and off, hot and cold bullshit.”

Ooh, it sounds like you have a little bit of a grudge over how you were treated.

“Get over it, Cola. It was centuries ago, whatever we had.” He spits out, and you have a glint of sadness in your eyes.

He knew you were a little too gushy for your own good– not even he adapted that quickly to the wilderness of the Wasteland. He waits for you to make the mistake, apologize, break down– and then he can take the core and get out of here.

But you’re still firm in your grasp of him, your weight pushing him down, blade against him.

You’re not angry about back then. You’ve come to terms with that.

You’re angry at the state of the world.

“You know what I fucking hate, Ghoul?” You spit in his face, and he blinks, spittle now on his chin. “You are all so selfish. I got left behind, likely for dead, right, and nobody gives a shit, whatever. But instead of me hoping that the leftover crumbs of society would at least try to be, I don’t fucking know, more hopeful and kind, or at the very least, not be so fucking greedy and transparently trying to be the new party in charge.”

“You’re living in a dream world.” Coop interrupts, and he’s rewarded with you carving a small, little cut on his cheek, a rapid movement you hardly think about, and it causes him to inhale sharply, a drop of blood smearing across his face.

“Oh, no. I’m not asking for everyone to hold hands and play family.” You laugh suddenly, and then somehow lean in closer, and Coop finds that in some fucked up way he enjoys the pressure against him. “It’s bullshit, that kind of image making– you and I both know that. But for all this supposed talk against the rich billionaires who ruined our lives, how are we not just emulating them?”

Coop is actually drawn to silence.

“Maybe you actually got fooled by self-image, Cola.” He murmurs. “Or maybe that’s just people’s true nature.”

You don’t like that answer. You don’t actually want to believe that, but the more you think about it, the more it’s probably true. People lie all the time, but the amount of outrage you’ve heard from people the last few months, bemoaning Vault-Tec and all those rich fuckers, you were inclined to believe they wouldn’t act the exact same way.

Just at a different level. Power corrupts all, you guess.

You loosen your grasp a little. “Thank you.”

It’s honest, and Coop doesn’t like how much he does like your nature of trusting him– how even as this new, terrible version of yourself, you still trust him, and you still ask for his advice.

He doesn’t know what to make of this, but he thinks maybe he can get some use out of you yet.

Coop wrangles his arm from out under your thigh, where you’ve accidentally let a gap through, and shoves you over.

You fall with a gasp, hitting the ground, and he stands up and kicks you for good measure, while you screech in pain.

Coop picks you up by your throat, and you instantly move to fighting– your blade against his stomach, teeth gritted in resolute urge to kill– but he’s got his pistol at your neck, and the way he brushes it against you is almost like a lover’s embrace.

“One thing I hate is a fucking liar, Cola.” He grumbles, and you glare at him. “You’re not some innocent– why else do you got a fusion core in your pocket?”

“I never claimed I was a good woman.” You shake your head. “I just wonder why the Brotherhood, the Enclave, hell, even some of the Raiders… everyone wants the ultimate piece of the pie.”

“Besides, you’re the one who kept saying to survive out here I’d have to be a killer.” You remind him, and he looks down at you, thinking. “The world’s grieving– I don’t blame it for that, I feel the same way.”

You’ve still got a way with words, he thinks, and he was right. He can use you for his benefit.

“Say, Nuka-Cola. Why don’t we take some of those fuckers down?” He stills. “Not randoms. The power-hungry pie-eaters, like how you so eloquently put it.”

You don’t fully trust him again, but you’re into the prospect. You don’t want power, and you know he doesn’t either, but it’s not just looting. No, no, this is something akin to revenge.

“Alright.” You whisper.

“Alright. Okay, I won’t shoot if you don’t cut me.” He speaks softly, slowly, trying to cajole you out of attacking– and you move as he does.

The threatening air of before is gone now, and the Ghoul has only a odd stare for you, something that makes you feel watched, almost reminding you of two centuries ago. It could be that he doesn’t trust you either– and so you walk onward with a gap between you two, heading to wherever a faction that needs fucking up could be.

Coop strolls inside the makeshift bar as you make conversation, staying within the shadows. It’s not on official Enclave grounds, it’s simply a nearby bar where members have been known to hang out.

He doesn’t exactly mind being the one to pick up the slack of killing people– he can tell you’re good at charming people what with your former bombshell acting techniques, your silly, soft blinks, the way how your skin still looks smooth and untouched.

Was it all a lie with him? Aw, shit, why does he care? He really doesn’t have time to wonder if he’s been manipulated by you– he won’t be manipulated by you now, when he gets rid of many the people who represents obstacles in his way to finding still-existing Vault-Tec members.

Yes, that’s all this is to him. Another step to finding Moldaver, Henry MacLean, then his family if he’s lucky. And you’ll get some rage out of it, so he doesn’t even consider this to be that bad of an evasion of his.

You laugh at something the guy next to you says. Coop catches a bit of it, of him asking how you look under that big jacket– and you mentioning you’d like to see him without that government get-up, too.

He grits his teeth. He’s not fucking in love with you, or anything stupidly juvenile like that– but he definitely felt something before when the two of you were fighting, or when you had conversations during the long, arduous talk here– you bit into a piece of his jerky when he offered it, and he laughed in surprise that you didn’t spit it out after he revealed it was feral ghoul ass jerky.

He also found that his gaze kept being drawn to you, too. You kept up with him, you were capable of hunting and searching on your own, you took lives when the need arose, and you had his back, even if he didn’t ask for it.

You made him subconsciously draw from the past, reminiscing about a time with you and a future he never thought he’d revisit. And now he can’t ignore that, so he needs to let off some steam.

There’s a splatter of blood across your face as the guy in front of you splutters, a bullet hole shot through his forehead. Little pieces of flesh hit the bar counter as he falls, and you gasp.

Coop is kind of quick with it now– he fires off, and because these “politicians” are unprepared, he’s able to kill off more than half.

You get over your shock quickly and fire your own tiny pistol at random, managing a few kills, but the Ghoul takes the last one and looks back at you, with an intrepid glance that you can’t figure out.

“What the hell was that?” You call out, and he doesn’t respond, instead beginning to pilfer the bodies, looking for shit to take. “Hey, Ghoul…”

“We came here to kill off those guys.” He answers you, but it’s not really an answer.

“Yeah, but I thought we agreed on discussing this shit as we were doing it. What happened to signalling?” You approach him, and as you get close enough, he turns around and stares unnervingly into your eyes.

“I did signal, sweetheart.” He clicks his tongue, lying through his teeth.

“Bullshit.”

“No, I did.” He points at you. “It’s not my fault that you were too busy schmoozing and flirting to notice.”

“Wow.” You laugh exasperatedly at his antics, while he tilts his head. “You’re really obtuse, you know?”

“Nah. I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re gonna say you’re not jealous–” At that word, the Ghoul snarls, ready to tell you exactly how little he cares for you, and you motion for him to zip it. “But at the very instance of seeing me flirt, mind you, in the most fake way possible, you lost it. You can’t even tell the difference between my genuine flirting and the fakest, schlockiest shit?”

“...” Coop frowns, because you’re right– he did kind of let his mind go wild over nothing in particular.

Even worse, it means he’s made it apparent to you that he still harbours some feelings for your long-ago relationship. And that’s definitely a potential weakness– he does not want you to believe you can just work him around.

“Fuck you.” He spits, and instead of your face flinching in hurt, you stay neutral.

“I know you think you can come close and then shove me off every once in a while, because you’re fucking terrified of what it means that you’re not as hard as you pretended to be, that you still have a bit of human emotion inside you.” You tiptoe up to his face so he can’t avoid you. “I don’t care. That’s your problem.”

You turn to leave, to continue looting the bodies– and Coop’s hand wraps around your wrist.

He hates what you’ve said, because it’s absolutely provoking the worst issue he has– he can never just let go. Two hundred years of this has made him a different creature altogether, spiteful; evil, but Coop knows as well as anyone that his transformation doesn’t negate his original nature, buried deep down.

It was a lie on his part– people are not as evil as he made them out to be, it’s the cycle of this situation that perpetuates that shit. Violence begets violence and all that. He can’t seem to say this to you, though, because he can tell you already probably knew that.

What is this fuckery, that you’re able to generate such a sense of guilt in him?

“Show it to me again. Genuine flirting.” he says instead, and he knows it’s stupid as hell to say something like this. “It’s been hundreds of years, you can’t expect me to fuckin’ remem…”

You grasp his arm back, making him quiet.

He’s half expecting you to punch him, but you see something you like– something that finally satisfies you, and you kiss his cheek, where you cut him much earlier in the day. It’s a soft bruise, mostly healed over in the way ghouls heal– but it’s overwhelmingly, embarrassingly hot there now as you pull away.

“I won’t forget the difference next time, Nuka-Cola.” He tips his hat at you in a mockery of his acting as a dashing cowboy once upon a time.

“Won’t be a next time.” You shrug. “I would hate to have to flirt with someone again just to get you to notice me.”

This severely bothers him, like you haven’t been an annoyance in his mind this whole time. And then he wonders if you’re an idiot, like you have no idea the effect you had on him back then, and even now. Hell, even that overly-chaste kiss has him remembering how he felt at Sebastian’s party when you humoured him the first time.

Do you think the only thing he’s burying is some empathy for the human race?

He can’t just let you be this wrong about this, no fucking way. And it’s with this in mind that the Ghoul feels his reserve melt as he tightly grabs your face and kisses you. Not a soft, movie-star kiss of the past, but one more hungry, his lips swallowing yours, pressed sternly, firmly, like he’s not gonna let you go. He parts his mouth ever so slightly, trying to catch a reaction from you.

You’re caught off guard, and he’s glad. He likes that you don’t know what to do with yourself, that for once you’re floundering rather than him, and you barely remember to kiss back until a couple seconds later when your hands grasp the base of his skull. You’re tracing grooves, calluses, skin that’s been eroded by his ghoulishness. You feel like he tastes ever so acidic– perhaps from the radiation emitting from his body– but some weird part of you loves it, and you part your lips as you kiss him harder, wanting to feel his tongue.

Your lips are just as soft as he remembers– but there’s more excitement now, more of an urgency as you kiss him, so he takes your invitation and swirls his tongue around on yours, disgustingly vulgar and perversely fast, yet lingering to enjoy the sensation, and he kinda loves being a corrupting force, being the ghoul who eats up this sweet human girl, and he tightens his grip– it almost hurts you, how tightly his hands weave around your waist suddenly– and then before you know it, he pulls away.

He wipes his mouth, never taking his eyes off of you.

“So. Did I taste like Nuka-Cola?” You joke, and he laughs in your face.

“Nope. Darlin, you haven’t been the Nuka-Cola girl for hundreds of years. They replaced you not long after you vanished.” He smiles widely at how your face drops. “I can show you some of the new girl’s billboards, if you’d like.”

“That would explain the lack of revenue.” You raise your eyebrows. “Then why do you still call me Nuka-Cola, Cola, etcetera?”

“That’s how I remember you.” It sounds too sweet, too nice that he keeps your nickname on tabs, so he twists his lips in a sneer. “Plus I don’t remember your name.”

“Oh.” You bite your lip, finding his insult more funny than anything else, and turn around to take items from the bodies around you. “Okay, Mr. Howard.”

It was the optimal moment for you to joke back, calling him the Ghoul, but in classic you-fashion, you decided to extend an olive branch to him– reminding him that he’ll never just be the Ghoul to you. And even if Coop knows he’ll always remember you by Nuka-Cola, he has a fondness for you that he doesn’t neglect anymore– and he murmurs your name so softly, but just enough that you turn back and look at him, and smile with pleased recognition.

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envy-of-the-apple · 1 year

Text

Sweet Home

idk how the multiverse works so im just fucking up the worldbuilding but basically my hc is that whenever a dimension suffers trauma (too many ppl leaving dimensions, rift in time etcetc), it will create a shield around itself, preventing anyone from entering or leaving as it works to self-correct.

(Yandere, dark, kidnapping, captive, delusional behavior, gn reader, implied deaths, talks of bombs)

Yandere!Miguel O'hara x reader

Honestly, you weren’t much of a threat.

It was a rather misfortunate case of wrong place wrong time. One second, you were in your home, mulling about. The next, you were across dimensions.

At least, that’s how it was explained to you. You had no idea there could be more than one spiderman, and now you were surrounding by millions. Maybe even billions. Here they all were. Heroes, all working together to save the multiverse, returning innocent people, like you, back to where they came from.

But, according to Miguel, you were a special case.

“It’s not too hot, this time?” He asks, his face in the same scowl as always. Before, you assumed he hated you. Now, you realize the man had a hard time showcasing emotion.

It’s still there, though. You can see the concern in his eyes as they soften ever so slightly, as if he was remembering the scalding hot tea that burned your tongue.

You tasted it, smiling at its perfection. When you mentioned you preferred something sweet, you had almost choked on the lump of sugar at the end of the cup Miguel prepared. After that, he was much more lenient with sugar.

Ever since, you were put into his custody, he made it very clear your comfort would be his top priority. You never considered a superhero agency to be comforting, but the room he lent you was spacious and had a warm fluffy bed, food was always delicious, the guilt-filled gifts were always nice. It was clear the man spared no expense.

“It’s perfect,” you say, “thank you.”

He gives a smile. Though, it’s strained, like he’s not sure if he’s doing it correctly. He finally gives up, staring down at your techband. It wasn’t as sophisticated as his, you understood why you couldn’t have one, you were just grateful it stopped you from glitching.

“So...is there anything new?” You ask, careful to broach the subject.

You couldn’t go back home, not yet. It had taken a while for you to calm down when you were first brought here. You had been terrified, fearing for your life surrounded by these strangers who all strangely resembled spiderman. It was Miguel that had talked you down. He wasn’t patronizing, didn’t coddle you, but he wasn’t unkind.

He explained things carefully. When you had been ripped from your dimension, something had gone wrong. The dimension had closed in, as if it were a living creature defending itself, an armadillo creating a thick shell. No one could go in or out.

So, here you stayed at the spiderman’s headquarters, temporarily dimensionless.

You peered into Miguel’s face. He was tired. He always looked tired. You wondered if he was getting enough sleep. Guiltily, you knew you were partially a reason for that.

“Nothing.” He sighed. “We still can’t communicate to your spiderman, nor can we break into the gates. So far, no progress.”

You had a feeling that’d be the case. You gave a strained smile, feeling more and more hopeless.

“Hey.” His hand was warm on your shoulder. “I’ll find a way to get you back home, I promise. Don’t give up on me just yet.”

He was close, leaning in just so your faces were inches apart. Miguel was just being kind, you knew that. But his height and stature had always intimidated you. A part of you was sure he knew that. It was why he would always hover over your, like it was some way to subconsciously keep you in check.

It was an absurd thought. As always, you shook it off.

“And besides, if we can’t, you’re always free to stay here.” He gave a lazy wave to the spacious room filled with gadgets you couldn’t even begin to describe.

It was a joke. You knew that. Miguel was adamant about ‘anomalies’ being returned to where they belonged. You were certain he would’ve thrown you back into your dimension if the situation were different. Yet, just the thought of staying here forever, never seeing your friends or family ever again tugged on your heart.

You appreciated everything Miguel had done for you, he had gone above and beyond, but you were lonely. Due to protocol, only Miguel was able to see you. You understood it, but it didn’t mean you were not allowed to have human emotions.

You longed for home.

He must have seen it in your eyes because he pulled back some. The lines on his face hardened ever so slightly. He was angry. Not at you. Never at you.

“You done with that?” He changed the subject, gesturing to your cup.

Nodding, you return it to him gratefully. He stands up, grabbing the remnants of lunch and dirty dishes.

“I’ll be back.” He tells you, and he’s assured you plenty of times that you weren’t, but it was hard not to feel like a prisoner as you watched him leave through a metal door.

You waited for ten seconds, and then you rose from your own seat.

There were only two rooms you had access to. Your own, and then Miguel’s office.

Well, it wasn’t really an office. It was a large computer room, but Miguel always worked here, and you always kept him company, much preferring the companionship of at least one human rather than the solitude of your bedroom.

Over time, he seemed to trust you a bit more. Or maybe he started underestimating you. Over time, he had accidentally given you most of the passwords to this place, not really paying attention as you not-so-secretly spied on his work.

You felt a little guilty for snooping, but a part of you was frustrated. You’d been stuck here for weeks, with no concrete answer. Miguel always seemed to evade your questions. You wanted an explanation. Assurance.

Strangely enough, you felt a little old as you clumsily operated a machine that was decades into the future. It was a humbling experience. You typed in your dimension number, a sequence you knew by heart.

Huh.

You weren’t sure what a closed dimension looked like, but it certainly wouldn’t look like this. It looked fine. Despite your minimal experience with looking at dimension maps, you could tell the gates were opened. You could even see tiny dots flitting in and out. People.

Everything looked fine.

Then...why did Miguel say you couldn’t go home?

“What are you doing?”

You hadn’t even noticed he’d come back. He had been so silent. Like a spider.

You whirl around to face him. For the first time, you realize you’d never actually seen him without his signature blue and red costume. His face was stony. His demeanor had changed, as if earlier he was actively trying to pretend around you. Before, he used to slouch slightly, his hands would drape awkwardly at his sides. Now, his back was straight, arms ready.

You’d never thought Miguel as threatening before.

Still, you try your best to loosen the sudden tension in the room. You give a sheepish smile, hoping it doesn’t wobble like your heartbeat.

“I think my dimension just opened up,” You mutter, halfheartedly pointing to the screen, “Does this mean I can go back home?”

He steps forward. You inch backward as he makes his way over to the computers. All the screens shut off. You can barely see him in the dim light.

He works he jaw, like he wants to tell you something but can’t.

Despite your heart going a mile a minute, you don’t want to be scared of Miguel. The only friend you had here. You bite your lip, gaining all the courage you could.

“Did you lie to me?” It was a stupid question. Of course Miguel would say no. He wouldn’t do this to you. He couldn’t.

His eyes slice into you. Crimson.

“Yes,” he says simply, “I did.”

You weren’t expecting that. You couldn’t have. Your mind was whirling, desperately trying to piece together an explanation.

The tears burned in your eyes. You forced yourself to keep them at bay.

“Why?” It was barely a whisper, you weren’t sure if he had heard you.

He rakes his hand through his hair. It was something he did when he was stressed. You’d once jokingly told him that if he kept doing that he’d go bald.

You had joked with this man.

“I was going to put you back,” He said, almost like he was pleading to you. As if you were his judge, his executioner, and not his helpless prisoner.

“That was the plan. I was going to put you back but...” He sucks in a breath. He gives a laugh with no real mirth.

“But then I realized how much safer you’d be here.”

You didn’t understand. You take another step back. He follows.

“Your dimension opened back up two weeks ago.” You’d been stuck here for three. “Communication has resumed like normal. I lied about that.”

It felt like a sick prank. Like he would suddenly start laughing, telling you how gullible you were.

But it feels even worse when he doesn’t do that. He just stares, almost like he feels sorry for you.

You don’t want his pity.

“You haven’t met your dimension’s spiderman, have you?” He suddenly asks. “He’s a good kid. But that’s all he is. Just a kid. Thinks everything comes easy. His fate is worse than most.”

“His recklessness causes a bomb to detonate. 126 people die.” His gaze is stiff on your figure.

“Including you.”

You freeze, staring at him, unable to move. The word of your death still lingered in the air.

“I told myself I’d send you back,” he continues staring into the dark screens, “But you were so sweet and you made me feel so-” He cuts himself off with a huff.

“I always have to make the right decision. Every time.” He finally says, looking back at you.

“Just for once, I wanted to be selfish.”

“Miguel-”

“I won’t.” He interrupts. “I’ll keep you here. I’ll keep you safe. I always keep things that belong to me safe.”

You don’t like how he phrased that. You don’t like anything about this. This didn’t sound like your Miguel.

Or did you even know him? Was the weeks of kindness all an act? A ploy to keep you satisfied?

Look how wonderfully that worked? You walked right into his trap like a stupid butterfly, struggling in the sticky webs.

“You said it yourself,” you whisper, “I’m an anomaly. I can’t-I can’t stay in a dimension that isn’t mine. I could cause rifts-or-or even worse disasters.”

You try to throw his words back at him, hoping it’d knock some sense into him. He just gives a hum at your attempts.

“Not if you stay here,” he replies, “Not if I keep you contained. Keep you here.”

You shake your head, stepping back. This felt like a nightmare. The tears were falling in full force, down your quivering chin as you stare at him.

“You-you can’t do that,” You mutter, backing up against the wall as he makes his way towards you, “You can’t do that.”

He crowds you against him, hushing you as he bundles you up to his chest, stroking your hair. He’s so warm. His scent of woodland mountains is so strong. He suffocates you. You hadn’t realized it until just now.

“I know you don’t understand.” Miguel replies, sounding so genuine. It makes you sick. “But you will. One day. One day you’ll thank me for saving you.”

Saving you. This wasn’t saving you. This was keeping you. This was killing you.

“I want to go home.” Your voice breaks, cracks under the weight of his confession. “Miguel please. I-I need to go home.”

For the first time, he smiles. A sincere smile.

A condescending smile. Like you’ve said something adorably naïve.

“Mi amor.” He purrs, affectionately kissing your cheek.

“You are home.”

#yandere #delusion #dark content #atsv x reader #gn reader #miguel ohara #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #spiderverse #non con touching #kidnapping #yandere miguel o'hara #oh no miguel im so sorry your wife and kid died #bummer #anyway theres this cute thai place down the road

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fionarara · 1 year

Text

+ cherry bomb .

+ GOJŌ SATORU x READER .

+ T W ⇾ 18+ only . smut . sugar daddy!gojo . dilf!gojo . f!reader . implied ddlg dynamics . adult age gap (the amount is your interpretation) . aquaphilia aka underwater sex . praise . a bit of a baby bimbo reader so um dacryphilia, no rly, like i’m talking actual tears, yeah . gojou has a dumb joke (or two) . mention of divorce (not yours) and of gojo’s child (also not yours) . slight size kink if you squint . i feel like both flaunted capitalism and vapid self-indulgence needs a tag here ?? we be explorin dark kink of all kinds on this here blog, right? (｡>ω<｡) . reader has a few nicknames . no beta . and lastly, probably goes without saying but daddy kink, i repeat, daddy kink . oyasumi ✌︎ .

+ A N ⇾ um, istg i totally did not mean to post this dilf!gojo on actual father’s day, h-whoa? but the universe just always has my back i swear, an amazing coincidence as i only realized right before posting, and somehow it feels *symbolic* ?? - this is for the sugar daddy collab by @sleepysnk, ty for letting me join last minute summer ♡

+ W C ⇾ circa 5,500

Zz Zz Zz.

Within your skirt a vibration kicks off.

The ringing of a phone tucked into the waistband against your tummy chimes out its soft little tune where you withdraw it to peek at the screen. Flashing vibrantly across its surface reads ‘DD Gojo’, and the smile unveiling on your face shines as brightly as the reflected device in your palm.

From where you stand on the sidewalk in elegant heels, all dolled up for the occasion, the twilight of dusk is visible on the horizon. The vision of picturesque dark multi-colored hues harmonize nicely with the wafting scent of warm pastries and tea in the air nearby, out from the cafe of the luxury shopping center you’ve been waiting in front of: Gojo’s favorite meeting spot. Whereby inevitably, has become yours as well.

A place you have both frequented together before, where he has showered you with many gifts, many times over, treasured in both of your memories. Cherished adventures built here upon wining and dining at the finest restaurants, playing dress up at the shops amongst extravagance, the cavalcade of glittering jewels and lavish garments–all the things you deserve as far as he’s concerned. He is of the belief that whatever you receive should be nothing but the best the world could ever offer, or at least his wallet, he figures.

And since life has been really tough on him lately–divorce is a bitch, the entire ongoing legal process has been one drawn out migraine–you and your overall companionship are so highly prized, not only in his day-to-day, but because of the new glow you’ve supplied his life. Especially during the last several months of regularly seeing one another after the separation from his marriage.

Unabashed in his absolute fondness for you, he has deemed you his little crème de la crème angel.

You pick up the jingling phone in your hand.

Gojo Satoru seems to be in an especially exuberant and silly mood when his voice forces a notable husky tone, answering your greeting with a fun-loving tease, a low murmur on the other end of the call.

“Ring-ding-dong—is baby ready for my dong, sweets?” He finds himself hilarious, goofy, a laugh ripping out of his throat with audacity, clearly and thoroughly enjoying his own terrible joke.

Wow. There’s that classic on-a-whim, lively, larger-than-life bluntness that comes along with Gojo’s Sagittarius energy you have come to know well: he’s innately playful and comedic, fun, loud, has got a charmingly sharp tongue with no filter—it can sometimes come back to bite him in the ass if he’s not careful—and all of that is blanketed by a sort of fiery sense of passion for the things he loves.

The fact remains that his way of being has always been able to find a kind of carefree humor within you, something so inexplicable. He brings out in you a sense of total ease or lightness you weren’t even sure you were capable of. A kind of untapped, unfettered joy no one has ever been able to touch in you before…

So you’re halfway snickering at him now, amused, but with full-blown sarcasm you reply, “Ha–ha, Satoru, you’re so classy…” then you’re truly giggling, “...just shuddup and get over here already.” You try to restrain the crack of a too-wide smile from spreading across your cheeks, but fail, gloriously.

So you give in to it. Deciding to oblige him, you press the mic of the phone closer to your lips with a hand cupped over your mouth, shielding your next spoken words while you avert your head downward in a play of secrecy. It’s almost a whisper when you respond.

“But…yes, I think that…just maybe, I am ready for it. Got it?”

He’s unable to actually see the minxy raise of your brow shown on your face, but the gesture is not lost on him from the tone in your voice. He hears it loud and clear.

“Jeesus, baby, I’m comin’, I’m comin’...”, the subtle rise of anticipation within him giddy and excitable. "Listen, I’m almost there. My GPS says I’m two minutes away.”

Late afternoon air has you rubbing away chilly goosebumps alive on your skin, particularly your upper arms, to bring you warmth. “Ok, good. Please hurry, it’s getting nippy out.”

“Oh?” Here it comes… “Mm, ya better have nipples out…see you soon.” The sound of a bold chuckle is distorted by the phone speaker before it’s cut off by a prompt click. He disconnected the call in that way.

Already, it is your second humored eye-roll of the evening from his cheeky Gojo-behavior and you haven’t even seen him yet.

Your chest is lighter because of it.

The shopping bags in your grasp shift from two hands into one, your free hand thumbing to find the golden credit card Gojo lent you in the pocket of your jacket. Assuring yourself that it’s still there is important.

Over a month ago, he had broken the news of how meetups between the two of you would soon become more of a challenge, due to court and custody hearings surrounding the finalization of his divorce. You’d be spending a considerable amount of time apart, he’d said. It would be longer than usual, by a whole month, and offered to grant you some form of consolation in return. So the very next day, an express-shipped credit card appeared at your doorstep in the fine afternoon with a letter enclosed. In it, he expressed that you were to use it and shop to your little heart’s content. The only deal was that you would hand it back upon the arrival of this date.

The car that pulls up to double park along the curbside beside you is, without a doubt, the most expensive car you will have ever ridden. It’s new. Gojo had mentioned it last week, making the purchase to lift his spirits and also as celebration for the court case he’d won against his ex. They’d granted him equal joint custody of their child. Actually, his final stop prior to fetching you this evening had been dropping off his baby daughter.

The door swings open on its own, remotely controlled by electronics. In view and resting on the front seat is a tatty teddy bear belonging to his child that was forgotten.

“Oops, lemme move that for you.” Somehow the sight of this tiny plush toy in his large hand brings about the sweetest rush in you for him. The stuffed animal is laid to rest onto the back seat where you also note a hollow purple baby bottle leaking a dribble of spilt milk from its nipple and onto the cushion.

Nineties grunge-rock plays soft on the radio when you climb in. The air is filled with a sweet and peppery, woodsy scent, one you recognize immediately–it’s him, his comforting cologne so greatly missed, only making you that much more aware of just how profound the ache has truly been for this moment to be by his side.

Crawling towards him, you pelt your eager arms around his neck, a way that communicates it has felt like an eternity apart. Both of you have a greater sense of it now, from being in the other’s presence. You can hardly keep your exhilaration in check, not with the soft squeals you let loose on his shoulder. For a moment, together you melt, breathing into each other.

It hangs in the air of the moment as you embrace.

The weight of the wait.

He then cradles you deeper, pulling you into an assertive kiss so welcoming, so sloppy with intention, it’s as if he’s blissfully unconcerned with how messy it is because, finally, you’re here. Letting you know it’s been far too long for him when he’s matting your cheeks with numerous pecks and taking in the scent of your hair.

Withdrawing to observe you, his eyes alight with radiance at the full sight of you, your energy. “God, I almost forgot just how stunning you are. Look at you! Just…incredible.”

The praise washes over you and after exchanging a few more greeting words, of how you’ve longed to see each other, he shifts the car gear into drive.

Buildings whip across the dark sunset and late dusk settles in. The spectacle of nightfall on this ride, of the city through the windshield, excites him enough to ignite a sudden curious stir in his pants. Maybe it’s the prospect of what night can bring with you along after so much distance that has his dick twitch at the thought alone.

And with that, his hand is creeping over to your lap. It should be almost comical when you believe for the quickest moment that his approaching hand would be innocent. One only of affection, to caress you, a gentle expression only in missing you…

But consequently, their energy becomes different—turn into those fingers, the kind you know well that are wanting, possessive. And being able to even think another thought is lost on you before he is squeezing at the thickest part of your inner thigh then slipping under your skirt.

“Satoruuu…wait…” you swat his arm with a light tap, dissuading him from getting too distracted. It’s happened once or twice before he’s lost control of the wheel when attempting something as naughty as this, but it is half-hearted when you breathily urge, “…pay…pay attention to the road…”

Not a moment later, out from the speakers the bass booms more loudly, the volume amplifying higher by the second where the music thumps heavy throughout your body. You locate the outlandish crystal-eyed culprit and his thumb pressing the ‘+ volume up’ button on the steering wheel.

Not only does he have the music blasted, but has the gall to flash a cutesy grin of mischief at you, a most sinful and impish face. That expression is followed up with a playful mocking yell, where the holler of his voice competes and cuts through the music.

“HUH, baby?-! WHAT? I can't hear you!” he teases, then carries on anyway with the slide of his fingers between your pressed thighs. It’s difficult for you not to part them a smidge while the electric feel of his three fingers reaches for your clothed cunt. They press flat against your mound at the first touch, then begin to fondle lightly at the grooves of your pussy, tracing the outer shape of it with his fingertips.

Having some restraint here had been your aim, but tonight you seem to be failing plenty at not completely succumbing to his whimsical charm–it's just been so long since you’ve been near him–you’d almost forgotten how magnetic his presence truly is.

Attempting to keep your desire hidden, you try stifling the puff of air that escapes your throat, turning your head away towards the window, but it is futile. On full display to him now is how unable you are to withstand his spellbinding touch, and he’d spotted it. That little starved expression tells Gojo how badly you’re fiending, it has him lowering the radio, the amplitude of the loud song descending and funneling out of the small space, volume all the way down so he can very clearly hear what his defiance has wrought on you.

Listening to your tiny constrained moans sends heat straight through his abdomen. You do not want to be condoning any of this while he’s driving, but unfortunately for your willpower, you act on instinct when you begin pawing desperately at the muscular forearm connected to strong fingers massaging over the wet spot of your panties.

“Yeahh…you like this, huh? Knew it.”

But, in a moment too soon, he is cut off by an abrupt swerve of the car and you gasp.

“Shit–” he grips steadfast onto the wheel, gaining composure of the vehicle.

“...Alright, alright, you were right. Let’s save this.” Punctuating the final word with one reassuring pat down onto your pussy, it's honestly more like a gentle spank.

You’re pouting, but of course you nod, agree, and settle into the electrically warmed seat produced by the suave leather chair, feeling loosened up.

Safety first.

. + .

The door to Gojo’s opulent estate, only a fraction of what sits on a 22-acre property, welcomes you by the greeting of a polished and suited butler. Warm lighting casts down from the expansive ceiling and it’s the first time this evening you’re able to catch a true glimpse of Gojo’s eyes. They look a bit tired, a tad worn from his recent circumstances, but it is truly a wonder how he can make even a light touch of under-eye bags look sexy.

Walking past the foyer toward the candle-lit living room, you extend him your comfort. Wrapping your arm around the bulk of his bicep, the other palm reaches for the hard pec on his chest to rub soothing circles of understanding.

Here you are at long last, approaching the grand sofa, both of you plopping yourselves atop the plush expanse and seamlessly locking on to one another. He relishes in the beautiful body flush against his.

Encircling his waist with your arms, you find it rather cute in taking note that he is marginally plumper around his middle than before, having developed a more modest weight around his butt and love handles. Though abs of steel still ripple his shirt, the overworked dad you hold in your arms seems to have relaxed a little from the recent stress and you are filled with a sudden pride for him.

A light-hearted joke flickers in your mind of his natural ability to take up space from his energy alone anyway–how you admire it, a part of you secretly wishing you could embody more of that in yourself–but mostly in how you appreciate this bigger physical development in him, because it now means there's a little more of him in the world.

“Shall we toast?” he suggests, so he whips you up a nice pink drink while he sips hard gin on the rocks, leaning back, thighs spread open like an empowered slut.

Curiosity then strikes him when the haul of shopping bags sitting on the floor from your spree earlier this evening catches his eye. “Ooo, lemme me take a peek at what you got.” he sits up and nods, face gleaming.

One by one each item is showcased and he is enthralled by every piece, because of course he is—it’s part of why he adores you, chose you, your keen eye and clear level of taste has always been impeccable, distinct and unique, highly attractive.

Then his heart is increasing in size as you confirm, right here, right now, that those aren’t amongst your only positive qualities when you’re showing him you’d also picked up something for him and had been thoughtful enough to do so. An ornate watch is pulled out of a fresh bag by your delicate hands, that then with a snap is on his wrist, handsome as it glints and refracts in the candlelight of the room.

Your body reaches over the littered items on the elaborate rug, clasping the final shopping bag which houses the bikini you had bought for this reunion by his request.

He whistles at it. “Superb. Model it for me, will you, babe?”

You do. Twirl, shimmy, joke with an exaggerated runway catwalk, giggle, then there’s something visible written on his face and you’re able to anticipate what his next move might be.

Gojo had developed a pension for bestowing you with a few cutesy nicknames in the time spent getting to know you. Amongst his favorites and most frequently used is that of ‘cherrybomb’. Must be a fan of The Runaways, you figured, but it truly came about when, almost exclusively, you began wearing rouge-shade lipsticks in his presence. Perhaps you could make yourself seem a little older, you’d hoped, give yourself a closer touch of sophistication in his world by presenting yourself in such a way.

But mostly he’d donned you with the specific moniker because a smattering of the red tends to end up around the lower half of his dick after he's had his way with you, a faint painted crimson over his pelvis near where it meets the shaft.

You’re halfway through striking a faked model pose when he lifts himself off the couch and approaches. With an index finger so sensual, he presses up into the cushion of your ruby lips, holding tight to your gaze, coaxing you with a query, “So, gonna help daddy feel better now, cherrybomb?"

Then, far into the depths of crystalline aqua you swim, deep into the mesmerizing eyes that lock onto yours and you say nothing; nothing except for an exhale of hot moist vapor releasing onto the firm finger that baits you. The slow lick you give it afterward, dragging your tongue up along the column of his digit, landing at the tip, answers any and all of his questions. He can already feel the swell of blood trickling in to fill up his cock.

The time has come for his hand to guide you through another hallway toward the recently completed construction of a large-scale naturesque onsen the size of a massive pool, installed in the outdoor area beyond the sliding doors. Intending to experience it tonight for the first time was on his agenda, professing his desire to christen the new space with you, right before he glides a magnificent lustered glass door to one side, letting you through.

You step into the open atmosphere: water bedazzled by moonlight, submerged light fixtures softly illuminating a mint-aqua azure-blue glow, steam rising thick as fog. A plethora of tall bamboo trees enclose the surrounding space, a waterfall cascades off a giant boulder just around the bend and beneath your feet and everywhere is an assortment of gorgeous stones varying in shapes, sizes and sorts.

Gojo leans into you from behind when you approach the onsen’s outer edge, planting kisses along your neck. A clean tug at the string of your bikini top by his hand has it flopping off your breasts, exposing them to the crisp night air, amongst the sprinkle of stars hanging in the heavens. Bikini bottoms hit your ankles next and he strips completely, down to his boxers, then to nothing at all. Already he’s rock hard, a cock so upright, it seems it could nearly touch his abs.

A large hand links to yours, leading you down into the inviting water.

"God, you’re tiny next to me." He tells you, loving how much his big build towers your frame, admiring your body from behind as you descend into the blue, bare feet hitting each lowered pebbled step.

Submerging into warmth, it cradles you as you dip in. Vapor floats off the lapping surface where your joined bodies bob together in water, all of your limbs wrapped around him. He wastes not another second longer, gripping you impossibly closer, making out with you, ardently; proving himself to be ever the great multitasker with one hand gripped on your asscheek and another kneading at your breast.

Now the sizzling of your skin isn’t from the heated water alone, for beneath the very surface you simmer for him, a robust flame of aching arousal so unbearable it has you trembling. Shaky and flustered by lust, from how strong hands grope every inch of your body, how his tongue intoxicates you as it rolls fluidly against yours, he senses it all—how overcome you are by need—making him groan with a fire in his belly, as do you, too.

Desire has your spine arching. Legs still grasped to his waist, your ass pops backward as far as it will reach, creating easy access for him where he can trace fingertips along the crack of your ass as a guide, down to the ‘X’ which marks the spot of your slick hole.

Two thick fingers dip up, curl inside you, and plumes of oxygen off your light moans release between whimpers. Like your third eye opening, the instant clarity you receive in understanding how these fingers are able to create such powerful sorcery is made evident now, by his digits making literal magic in you as they fuck you filthy beneath the water.

“Missed you like hell.” He murmurs, then you grip tighter, moaning, sucking a quick bruise on his neck.

Yet all too soon, he notes the angle of his wrist is not ideal, nor the slight pushback from the water. All of it provides much resistance for him to thrust into you at the necessary speed that he knows would truly have you unraveling for him.

A light bulb flicks on in his head.

“Turn for me.” He commands, gentle and true.

In favor of getting you back to the onsen steps without letting you lose arousal, he whips your body around, directing your arms to wind behind his neck, your ankles to wrap around his. With your back meeting his chest, exposed nipples sting wet in the cold bite of the air, wading you through the water. His goal to keep that hot coil of desire burning within you also means his own cravings run high right now, to have you squirming on his fingers from this position, knowing where that button can be pressed upon.

“Thaaat’s it, baby, keep it up for me…” He entices, approvingly, an eager hand reaching from around your hip to the front, massaging over your clit in winding motions of expertise. His game is won when your hips begin to stutter, rocking and chasing for more of his touch and he can sense the steady rhythm of your thighs tensing against his.

Soon, your feet hit the stony steps. Placed on a higher level than him, it gives him reason to bend you over as planned, to hike your ass up above the waterline where it collects just around your thighs. It’s there you are instructed to hold steadfast on the edge of the onsen.

“Good, baby. Just like that.”

He reckons it’s his turn to make you pliant and easy access for himself. From where he stands below, waist deep in water, his face is lined with the entirety of your raw nether-region, anxiously awaiting to eat you out from behind.

But first, the sight of you like this is truly something to behold.

Here is a quick moment of pause for Gojo, caught in admiring the beauty of pearlescent vapors casting heat off of every bit of your skin, dancing upward through the shine of moonbeams contrasted against the darkness.

“Mmm.” There’s a tone of carnal wonder—and just a touch of light playfulness—in his humbled voice. “Your pussy is steaming hot, baby. Literally.”

You whine from the unfavorable lack of contact as he purrs his sweet words. Air is blown over your bare steamy cunt by his lips, cooling it down, watching it clench, eyeing heat vapors disperse around it. Then he gingerly pries the petals of your pussy open, lingers in admiration for another moment longer before finally tugging your thighs backward to strike his face onto the wet folds. He impresses a deep open-mouthed kiss onto it, sucking your pussy slow and deep into his mouth, and you snap—out comes your ungodly cry in ecstasy. He makes it sloppy, purposefully a bit disheveled, all wicked slurps and licks of passion, and a huff from his nose hits your asshole in a stimulating sensation.

The taste of the mineral water mixed with the sweet drip of your cunt thoroughly quenches his thirst for this christening.

Light daddy scruff from his lower face can be felt against you as another slow upward lick nearly grazes your anus. He wants to create a plateau of his tongue stretching across the whole of your pussy, so he’s scooping under to search for your clit and press there, toying with the nub for several long languid beats.

That is until he makes a quicker decision to swap it in favor of shoving his fingers inside you and pump them with force from behind. When you thrust back to help his fingers reach deeper, he already misses his face being trapped and pressed to your cunt, so he moves back to slurping your clit too.

Your head falls forward as you crescendo from tiny whimpers into staccato groans, then sensing him pause for the smallest of moments only to catch a breath where you can feel his rapid draw of air.

He is attuned to when your hips begin gyrating harder onto his sucks, it’s a signal you’re close to your finish. So he doubles down, grabbing hold of your sides in a bruising grip, fingertips digging deep into the flesh of your hips where he forces you tighter onto his face. All that’s left to give is a tiny sting of pain to send you reeling and crying out his name, so his large hand cracks down on an asscheek, several filthy slaps, with the swirl of his tongue still on you.

He alternates, working and circling open your tender hole to motioning down onto pulsating clit-sucks in such perfect rhythm, it’s like the epic beat of a hit song—and in an instant, it must be your favorite tune, because now you’re singing out along with it, belting out with a searing vibrant orgasm that courses through you.

Your elbows and knees wobble, near to collapse, but he’s caught you just in time with a slide of his arm underneath your tummy, holding you up with another hand by your outer thigh.

And you feel entirely supported by him, in many more ways than one.

You’re weakened and topple sweetly into the water, flopping backward into his broad chest. He draws in your back from behind, whispering warmth in your ear. “Daddy’s turn.”

The way your cheeks beam in post-glow daze has him tender-hearted. “Aw, my little cherrybomb…” he brushes away clumped strands of hair plastered to your face, “...like how only I can make you feel?”

Being older than you means he’s more experienced. No one other than Gojo has even remotely had you cumming as hard, so you can't deny his accuracy. You’d never dream of denying it anyway.

“Without question, daddy,” a little raspy voice so sincere, your body twirling in the clear blue liquid to face him outright, telling him point blank, “you’re the only one that has the power to make me feel this good.” Nearly sung like a lullaby off your tongue, you stare up at him with the most earnest eyes.

The sweet innocence of your praise is so astounding it raises his eyelids to widen so greatly until the appearance of the moon’s reflection fully shines in his eyes ; a genuine response to your unwavering devotion. Then it’s gone in a flash, because his eyelids shut when he’s peppering a line of kisses over your forehead and his dick is forcibly throbbing against you.

“Mhm yeah, you feel that?” He sucks on your earlobe, it’s still between lips as his whisper vibrates on the sensitive skin. “Want you bad. Help your daddy out now."

It’s nearly impossible to contain yourself when the all consuming thought and need in this moment is his grown cock in your hand, to supply him with anything and everything that would satisfy him, service him with the utmost amount of pleasure possible it’s as though he would never again know of pain.

Plunging forward and splashing further into the water, you hurl yourself onto him, a hand wrapped around his cock, an arm thrown around his nape. You pull him into another session of sucking one another’s faces, feverish mouths echoing moans into each other while you fist him below the water.

Gradually, the motion pushes him further and further backward until his spine hits an eventual rocky wall, arms-length away from the flow of the waterfall.

Gojo hauls you up by your thighs to wrap over his hips, simply wanting you to feel how hard he is from the outside, skin against skin, tenderly outlining the full protruding length of himself over your folds. Teasing between velvety lips, he’s grinning at how much of your slick can be felt through the water as he rhythmically runs his hard cock to bump up against your clit. Pleasure erupts through you with uncontrollable shuddering, from the remembrance of how unbelievable it could be just to have Gojo rubbing over you, the rush of the hazy memory all comes flooding back to you now.

Your head cannot withstand its own weight any longer, dropping dead into his fragrant shoulder, the scent of his neck driving you to delirium, inducing an almost intolerable desire for him.

“Enjoying yourself?” He chimes, but you are barely able to muffle out an agreement with your mouth muted against his skin. The best you can give is a tiny nod and it feels you’ve mildly blacked-out behind closed lids. “Tell me how much you need it.” He commands.

“I-I…” you start, but it dies in your throat, “...I...I–”

“Come on, baby,” he coos, a little smug, a bit more pride in his request, “I wanna hear it.”

You're at a loss, struggling to form coherent sentences, already helplessly weak from his cock and it's not even inside of you yet.

“...so...s-so bad, please…I–”

A wordless understanding soon emanates between you both, suspended in the air surrounding you. It’s a palpable exchange of etheric empathy. He understands–identifies, since you have never spent this much time apart before and seeping into the gravity of that is also beginning to make him feel dizzied. “That's it…that’s it…you can do it, sweets, you can tell me...” He rocks his taunting hips, hypnotizing your needy hole from the outside with the prodding head of his cock as you try once more to formulate a sensical sentence.

“D-don't think…I've ever…wanted anything–so badly–I-I–”

The more you babble, the harder he throbs.

“Daddy, I just–!” You feel actual tears starting to well up in your eyes, “–missed you so much-!”

An unexpected pang in your chest induces a flood of tears from your lower lash line. It’s only obvious to you now that you’ve been harboring this specific avoided emotion for a while, possibly even weeks. Trying to keep “strong”, convincing yourself you’ve been fine, or shoving down anything that would surface from within you about making the distance a bigger deal than you thought it ought to be.

Feeling so foolish, naive, to be crying with a mix of anguished pleasure for him, you lightly choke on your resistance to all of it, but without any ability to stop it.

He slows, then halts to observe your face, detecting the moisture below your eyes. It catches him by surprise. Concerned for you, he speaks with care.

“Aww, angelll…”

A tear streams down your cheek where he stops it with his lips, kissing it away, and Gojo feels his cock swell harder.

Undeniably horny by your undeniable ache for him.

A hand swipes over your face, shushing you to calm. “Shh…that's alright, okay baby, shh, you did good–so good speaking up for me–letting me know how much you want me…” soothing tingles by gentle scratches of his hands along your back quell you, “...re-laaa-x…shh…that was good enough for me now.”

Your cheeks are burning, born out of the pit of stupidity you feel as it pools in your stomach. Yet still, you continue to tear up, subtle quivering comes in waves over your body and has him offering you more words of comfort.

“...Nnnm…I missed you too, hey, hey–” he cups your face, making sure you’re truly hearing him. “–I did too, I really did…I know, baby, I know…” since you’re already crying, he might as well give you a better reason to, in the only way he knows to make it better, “...missed you somethin fierce…here–lemme show you how much. Come’ere–”

Lining up with your drenched hole, he guides you down onto the smooth stretch of his thick cock and your breath constricts. It has your face contorting from the dizzying nature of it all, denting your nails into his broad back. Gojo’s glimmering eyes connect with yours, reflecting back a shared intensity. Your gazes mirror one another as two pairs of eyelids are drooping together in unison, carefully examining each other’s faces as you adjust to him and he finally bottoms out inside you. But he grants you mere moments before the overwhelming thirst for you is far too irresistible to bear any longer.

He surrenders to the will of his body as if possessed, chasing more of the sweet suck of your cunt in every thrust and now you’re crying from something else entirely. Strong, effortless, determined pumps of his length drive into your core, the way he knows you’ll always end up begging for, although now, no longer does he want to ask that of you.

In this instance, his sole purpose becomes your unspoken bliss, to anticipate your desires without you needing to word them, yearning to spare you any further trace of strain or exertion. He intends to allow you the full sensation of simply craving his strong presence, pistoning into you, to let you relinquish control, entrusting him to tend to every remaining detail of your pleasure.

“Does this make you happier, baby? Hm?” Still carrying you, he turns a 180, switching spots to push your back against the flat rocky surface and ram you up against the wall. “Does it? H-huh? Ngh. Does it make you ha-happy?”

The splishing of the waterfall and his fierce rhythmic grunts are the only sounds filling your ears. You nearly match the waterfall as more tears spill and that’s when you’re sure he doesn’t require a verbal reply. The confirmation of your entire body responding to him renders sufficient, like how your fingers instinctively entwine with his hair, gentle tugs at snowy locks for extra support, you then give a few wobbled nods.

But now he needs a little more support and leverage, gearing up for that one ideal angle in you.

Hanging low and tilted just overhead, rests a bamboo tree. Reaching that one sweet gummy spot inside of you will mean reaching one of his arms up to grab hold of it. Gojo steadily raises both of your connected bodies so both waists together are just a hair above the waterline. He is up on his toes, tight grip on the bamboo culm, when he pounds you to perfection, deep and generous, positively wrecking you ‘till you’re wailing from your finish in blinding satisfaction.

And daddy fucks you raw into the night, again and again, through to the edge of dawn; then later on, when the birds begin to chirp and you are fully spent in his bed – so fucking cute when you’re fast asleep – Gojo realizes he won’t ever grow tired of the faint traces of cherry smeared across his pillows.

. + .

+ link2masterlist .

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2frosty4you · 4 months

Note

Hiii! If reqs are open, can I request for all the mercs finding out teen merc reader grew up with very neglectful parents, and is basically a mother to her younger siblings? The only reason she even took up a job as a mercenary is so she can pay the bills for her little brothers and sisters, since her parents are too busy using their money on drugs:/

Mercs find out teen!reader takes sole care of her siblings [Platonic

Hardest thing about this was actually getting a name for it :cry:

╔═════════════════╗

Scout

✧ He says he relates, but in reality he doesn't. His family was filled with successful boys (fatherless) and his mother who they all loved. He sent his paychecks to her every time.

✧ When you explained that you had to take care of your siblings from a younger age over the campfire he became quiet.

✧ Doesn't make a joke, but the awkward air was getting to him.

"so.. how many siblings ya got?"

✧ He only says this to break the ice

✧ After a while he understands why you're always on calls with people, always away on ceasefire and always take any off days you can get (hardly any)

Soldier

"AN AMERICAN CARETAKER SHOULD NOT INTAKE DRUGS FROM THE FRENCH!!"

✧ He's trying, but not hard enough

✧ He offers you one of his extra helmets and his raccoons. He cares for you like a strange rabid dog you found on the street.

✧ Shares his food with you, gives his loyalty to your brothers and sisters with a goofy salute.

✧ Don’t let him meet your siblings unless you want him to get them to dig a trench around your house

Pyro

".. mph?"

✧ They don't understand why your parents aren't using their own money.

✧ They don't understand a lot of what you explained

✧ They'll begin to offer any candies they have to you, not like they weren't already. Protects you a lot on the battlefield and draws pictures for you and your siblings (mostly balloonicorn)

✧ Would like to meet your siblings though, they've got plushies to share 100%

Heavy

✧ He pats you on the back and nods, he didn't need to mother/father a group of kids but having no father made his family's life harder.

✧ Teaches you some night hearty meals that could feed a battalion

✧ Also teaches you self defense, even if you know it already it's never enough (heavy tells you that like :nerd: )

✧ Also makes you sit and have some time to yourself, he's your 'father' now. No ifs, buts or whys

Engineer

"pardon."

✧ He says, frying pan in hand as he was cooking breakfast. Staring at you like he was going to kill a set of parents.

✧ Tries to keep you safer on the battlefield, not wanting you to suffer more than your family has done to you.

✧ Teaches you to cook, like heavy

✧ Cooks breakfast for you first, and when you have a rough time its 100% only you getting proper meal.

✧ Will drive you to your family's house, and stand there like a guard as you let him meet your brothers.

✧ Probably would build little contraptions for them and help tutor them.

✧ Loves you like family, including your siblings (not your parents, not at all)

Demoman

✧ He's drunk when you tell him this, he raises his bottle and spits out

"aye, fuck ya parents"

✧ He passes out immediately

✧ If he's sober when you mention it again he's going to be more caring(slightly) and since hes always at least tipsy he'll offer you his bombs like a drug dealer.

✧ If you say yes he'll blow up them and their crackhouse.

✧ Is on the fence about meeting your siblings, he doesn't really want your brothers seeing a drunk, half-blind Scot stumbling around.

Medic

✧ His eye twitches, a large insane smile on his face as he turns to you while having his elbows deep in the corpse of the enemy heavy.

"Did I mishear you?"

✧ He removes his hands from the corpse and comes over to you shaking you like crazy. Ranting about how a teenager shouldn't be caring for small children and asking if you had symptoms for any mental issues.

✧ He's insane, I'm not gonna sugar coat it.

✧ But he is smart and teaches you how to do some basic first aid

'no medic I'm not going to remove any appendices please stop cutting into scout'

✧ Wants to meet your sisters, offers them to play with his birds and offers up some plushies

'MEDIC DON'T GIVE THEM SYRINGES' 'and PLEASE put away the baboon heart'

Sniper

✧ Asks for you to repeat what you muttered and then offers to 'get rid' of your parents (sniper put down the rifle.. and the jarate)

✧ Drives you back and to your family home, is uncomfortable around small children so he's going to 100% either stay in his truck or be leaning against it the whole time.

✧ Don't worry he didn't bring any jarate with him.. Just don't check the truck (please)

✧ But if he mentions taking care of birds your siblings demand to see them, so they get along well

Spy

✧ He will assassinate them, won't tell you, but it'll be suspicious when your mother dies from an overdoses while having and obvious bullet hole through her chest

✧ Look, he wasn't a father to scout but he'll be a father for you. Better than your last father at least, and a little better than he was to scout.

✧ Teach your siblings french 100%, you won't know until they start speaking it and you're left dumbfounded.

╚═════════════════╝

Posted 1.03.2024 if you see any typos or anything pls tell me!!

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primrosebow · 3 months

Text

Idea I had

_--> Vox x reader //

!content warnings!: nsfw, vox is a warning of his own right

This is so goofy ya'll.......

He watches you through the cameras, he sees your every movement: every yawn from absolutely mind-numbingly boring paperwork, every sip of whatever drink you got to try and keep yourself awake, every flick you give to a page to try and make sense of the words after they start to scramble toguether in your mind... he.. felt a familiar pride rise in him as he noticed you do that last one in particular.

Vox... tries to be confident. Were it not annoying, you'd probably commend his commitment to "the bit" (that "bit" being his dominant act). His cold and controlled demeanor carefully stringed toguether by him holds up as well as a sugar cube in tea when he tries to still somehow hold it up even when you are mixed into the situation.

He had been observing you for quite the substantial ammount of time. In your bedroom. In your house. Through your electronics, your every move was permanently etched into his mind so he could look back at it during those times where the strain in his pants got far too uncomfortable to bare- he's getting sidetracked- (probably because that is the exact situation he is in right now) what brought him pride was the way you'd watch his shows with rapt attention, the way you'd talk of him so fondly to your friends, the way he was taking sleep away from you because of how in love you are with him! (Yes, his delusions do run that deep. Whatever it takes not to crush that fragile ego he has, I suppose.) Because you were anxious to be around him because you were flustered, of course, (because he is the equivalent of a ticking bomb except you never know when it's going to explode. But, whatever helps him sleep at night) and it definetly gets to you when you're trying to sleep, and THAT'S why you're so tired (the unshakable feeling of being watched at night doesn't exactly allow for much sleeping.).

And he calls you up to his office, having planned out everything down to his tone of voice. Down to the precise words he would say. His woven persona built with love for what he thinks is what you find attractive laid in front of you as you look at him mildly shocked, but weirdly unimpressed. While of course Vox would do something like this, there is also the "what the hell? What has gotten into him?" Aspect that can't seem to answer itself in your head.

Your silence and furrowed brows as you look at him don't inspire the same confidence he started with. The words that came from you next weren't the kindest, but they made the fuzzy feeling in his brain grow further. Your expression that went from mild surprise to a sly, malicious smile had him reeling- this- isn't going as planned-

"W-Well! Do something about it!" He exclaims after some moments of bickering between the two of you. His voice is slightly glitched out and his screen shows an occasional error message, but, despite that shameful display of vulnerability and lack of control over his emotions, you quickly grabbed onto his thigh and slowly brought it further up so you could get into a more comfortable position yourself. Your willingness to do this made the screaming voices of self deprication get quickly replaced by his unchecked ego. He felt like the most powerful man to have ever walked this earth.

You look at him again as you reach out to touch where he needed it most- and it was better than anything he could have hoped for. It made his entire body jolt as he finally got the reward he's been desiring for ages-

But he can't ever let things just be good the way they are without interfering in it unnecessarily. His resolve was breaking but he couldn't even tell, his screen brightened noticeably as even more glitches were escaping onto it along with a vague noise like building pressure in a lightbulb that was very hard to ignore. It was in the middle of that where he decided that this was a perfectly good moment to establish his dominance (which he hadn't noticed he was barely grasping at) and degrade you.

"You slu-" his voice is suddently cut off by a seeming "system default" one which overcame your senses with the message "[Error 404: "dominance" not found]"

You wanted to laugh-

This is just too perfect.

Your grin widens as he stumbles over an attempt to make up an excuse for what you just witnessed- though he is quickly cut off by you sliding your finger over the leaking tip of his dick.

Your turn.

// //

Goofy recreation of the last scene WHWHEHEHE

I had so much fun with this.

@bigfatbimbo as you accepted being tagged in my every post... and because it's vox

I had a blast with this. Not proof read. Not proof anything I'm just word vomiting. It is nearly 4am

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #hazbin vox

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allmyloveandyours · 11 months

Text

Actor (12238) and your Roles, Scripts, and Acting Ability

I found this persona chart neat and if y'know you wanted to act but didn't know where to start/wanted to know the vibes, sweet! There you go, read this.

I AM NOT A PROFESSIONAL just a silly lil fella take everything I say with a grain of salt or sugar idk you pick

Houses to look at that may be important: 1st (for casting), 3rd (scripts), 5th (fame), 7th (contracts), 10th (awards), 11th (fans and goals), others look at anything you want idc. There'll be asteroids at the end with basic meanings to plug into the chart if you'd like. Have fun and if you have any questions/corrections lmk :D

Asteroid Number: 12238

☆Ascendant/1st House☆

Headshots, castings, and the vibe you give out is what to analyze in this house. This can tell you the style of headshots you should get by looking at the sign for colors/vibes to give off. This house is all about first introductions. What do you want them to know about you? Casting could also be dependent on this house, as it could rule over people simply looking at you to see if you should audition or not (like what vibes do you give off and why would cast you for blah blah blah). Your outward personality also shows in this house, and it could give you a type of act they could steer you to playing (like bombshell, crazy fella, fem fatale, things like that).

✯Roles

The roles you get could be because of the vibe you give off (look at the planets/sign teehee). Your personality could carry you more than your ability, (if you have HEAVY placements tho) granting you more roles. For roles you might have a specific type of outfit and right off the bat you know what you’re dealing with kinda characters. In my mind it’s what you see is what you get with the planets in this house, so the roles you’d get would fit that saying. Are you a detective, boom, you look like one. Bombshell? Bomb you look like a mf queen, like shit like that. Aries gets straight to the point, so does this house, and so do your roles. This placement also reminds me of like, idk like John Mulaney, Awkwafina, y'know people who don't necessarily embody a character but people go "oh it's them!" On the other hand, you could be known for your expressions (like the Kubrick stare of something), like something that people again notice right off the bat. With roles your appeal comes from the vibes rather than getting an assigned thing if that makes sense (I know this house is a mess okay work with me)

✯ Sign: Aries

Aries' straightforward nature, ability to take initiative and leadership qualities are something to admire as a whole, and when it comes to acting, and get you where you need to be and fast. This sign may have more of a penchant towards sportier and physical roles, not wanting to be limited to sitting and talking, and the temperamental nature could make you a sight to see. Where Aries sits in your chart is where you need to take the lead, pave a new way, and walk down it. Embrace the confidence that Aries gives you and chart forward where Aries rules.

☆2nd House☆

The attire you may be put on (we’re talkin costumes babyyy). What colors would you look nice in, or what kind of costumes would you be more likely to put into kinda deal. More in depth this house could talk about your skills and how to approach gaining new methods for the craft. To me this is similar to 9th house of figuring out what tools to put under your belt in order to grow, but it’s more centered around money rather than just self growth. Use the skills you have and can gain to get roles (like for example if you’re a contortionist you might for your horror movie roles kinda thing). This could also tell you how you handle your money when it comes to films, a part of me wants to say budget-but budget like what of your own money to you put into projects, and what would they go towards (depends on the planets and sign yknow the drill). This can also point to talents you could have (like you could look at comedy related asteroids or something and see if they’re there you know the vibe)

✯Roles

Characters that involve opulence, style and class may be roles to lean towards. Being able to dress up and show out may appeal, like the exact opposite of a role you have to de-glam for. Since this is the house of skills and values, you may shift toward characters that put them on display, and you put a lot of value into said skills, regardless of what they are. Roles for these placements remind me of the old Hollywood kinda classics like Breakfast at Tiffany's and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, that glamorous kind of role that give enough space to show off your skills. Roles at involve slow burns or sometimes even food as well (if not chef, there could just be a lot of dining room scenes of that makes sense idk I just thought I’d throw in the Taurus food cliche thing here)

✯Sign: Taurus

Embodying the down to earth nature that comes with Taurus is the way to go. The classy and luxurious vibe that Taurus naturally gives off should bleed into wherever Taurus is/rules in your chart. Approach things with caution, put in that earth sign slow work ethic, and work your way into wealth using the Venus ruled sign. This in your chart tells you where you may need to slow down, bring class into the mix, and be stubborn. It can also show you where you may be stubborn/slow to change in acting, like if it’s in 3rd you may have a specific way of delivering lines you may need to change/ work on slowly.

☆3rd House☆

In the house of writing, ALWAYS look at this house (empty or not) to see the vibe of the scripts you may get as an overall. This could also tell you how you need to write/deliver lines, and the uniqueness you can bring when it comes to speaking. You can track your mentality when it comes to acting when it comes to his house. Like for example I have Capricorn ruling it, with Aquarius Neptune as well, and I've always liked the idea of a long term web series, as it gives more freedom than traditional Hollywood projects. This to me can also explain how people react to you online, for example Drew Barrymore's 3rd starts off with 29° Libra, and from what I've seen, people LOVE her talk show, like the jokes of "I just NEED to talk with her" come to mind, and from what I noticed, it was pretty out of nowhere (like people didn't expect her to get a show), and the rest of the house is Scorpio with North Node in Sagittarius 1°, and people often talk about her carefree nature to talking about deep topics. Obviously it's not exactly acting, but still found it interesting as it is the social media house.

✯Roles

The house of Gemini goes give MAJOR versatility (for example, Marilyn Monroe has Gemini ruling her third, and she did have versatility she wasn't granted that you can see bits and pieces of when watching her movies like Bus Stop (straight up rage) and Seven Year Itch (comedic timing)). Comedy could be one of your talents, along with generally being able to deliver lines in a way that caters to to role. Chatty siblings, witty side characters, or a smart lead is something that could fit you, just know it'll involve a LOT of talking. Work on being able to deliver long winded rants and monologues.

✯Sign: Gemini

You can tell I have a bias towards Gemini placements in the actor persona chart, as the "two faced" nature of Gemini is something that works well with acting. Like I said in the rest of this section, versatility is key for Gemini. Being able to think of something on the spot and fit to the situation is the best thing to use to your advantage. The personality you embody can be whatever you need it to be at the time. To be clear, this can show where in the chart you're more equipped to change and able to adapt when it comes to acting.

☆4th House☆

The house of the home, comfort and self security is under scrutiny when it comes to acting, as acting requires you to go out of your comfort zone. Now this could mean that you stay close to home, only working with family or doing local theater. Something I've noticed is that if you have a "positive" planet there (like Venus, Sun, etc), you may not want to act outside of your comfort zone. A lot of people I know who stuck to high school theater/had no desire to expand out had more planets in this house. This can also talk about how your family supports you, and how your inner security is impacted when it comes to acting.

✯Roles

Hereditary immediately came to mind LMAO but home roles may be something you consider/get. That doesn't mean you immediately get parental roles obviously, but it could mean that you do family environment roles. He's not the best example since he doesn't have this in his chart, but like Bryan Cranston going from Malcolm in the Middle to Breaking Bad, and being a father in both, or Toni Collette being again the mother in Hereditary but also the mother in United States of Tara, still family roles but dramatically different and more serious tones. You could also be known as a family name with placements here, like you could be on repeat in people's homes with this placement, like Disney or Miss Rachel kind of thing. Known in families.

✯Sign: Cancer

Emotionally driven roles are something you could like. With a personality that can offer comfort and emotional security, utilize those elements to get roles and give personality to them. Another thing I've noticed is that with cancer placements, people's parents could know about you (ik that sounds weird but you could be known more either intergenerationally or as an actor older people would like). This can show where you bring emotional comfort/stability in your acting.

☆ 5th House☆

OH YEAH BABY THIS IS THEE HOUSE!!!! The house of Leo and acting and fame as a whole is an important house to look at. Don't worry if there's nothing in it, look for the sign that rules it. This can tell you how you work the stage, and the uniqueness and fire you bring to your roles. Like the 4th house, this can tell you about theater or just plain old acting in a general sense. Leo can tell you what kind of creativity you may have and bring to the table, the energy you bring to fame, and it could even tell how well you do with younger generations, as the house does rule over children.

✯Roles

This can talk about the starring roles you could get, as it is Leo's house. The spotlight is put on you in this area, and the planets can let you know how to use it to your advantage. For example, Aaliyah has 23° Venus, and 29° Mercury in Libra, 18° Uranus and Vertex in Scorpio ALL in her fifth, and she utilized her well-known voice and beauty to get roles that put her in a spotlight, as although she only got a couple of roles before her death, they weren't your typical musical star roles, as she got an action movie, dark vampire and was almost in the Matrix, she used that Scorpio deepness and depth and sexiness, and that Uranus weirdness to her advantages to get roles that wouldn't confine her like it has other stars. Put the spotlight on the planets/sign in this house and it'll help you. This one is VERY straightforward. Shine a light on this house and it will shine back on you.

✯Sign: Leo

Leo can tell you where you may simply succeed as an actor. Like 5th, Leo is where the spotlight and creativity is in your chart. The personality to use may sound a little shitty, but put yourself where Leo is. If it's in 6th, do it daily and when it comes to co-workers, if it's 11th, make yourself shine in groups of people. Obviously, it won't be hard, but don't let your light get dimmed where Leo is. The personality to bring is first and warm, and use that Leo charm to show off the showmanship. Embrace the fiery nature and ego (responsibility) here.

☆6th House☆

Virgo's house of health, co-workers, pets and daily life can talk about the mundane side of acting. How often you work and how you take care of your health is the important thing to look at. It can show if you're a bit of a workaholic or a perfectionist, your emotional investment, how your health reacts. Depending on the planets, it could point to how often in your daily life you act or are theatrical. For example, Markiplier (don't bring it up I just got like a set list of people I use and an example ok) has North Node in Aquarius in his 6th, pointing to the fact he may like to act daily, or puts his acting talent into his work (like In Space with Markiplier and such), or would prefer to work as often as he could when it comes to acting, like he worked on his birthday this year for Iron Lung and ended up in the hospital as he got fake blood in his eyes. Not exactly an exciting house, but important. It could also talk about your co-stars/extras and how you interact with them. For example of you got let's say a water sign in this house, you may want to get to know them/befriend them.

✯Roles

John Krasinski has a HEAVY 6th house, which drum roll omg he was in The Office (I just thought I would check it and it made me giggle, he's got like 8 objects and planets in there). Office roles, roles about Mundane tasks, and general health may be roles you get. In my brain, I kinda think of this as the house of The Office and Grey's Anatomy. Realistic roles that talk and delve into daily life are roles that could work well for you. Not that you couldn't do bigger things, Black Mirror also reminds me of this house, as while it is fantastical, it is about daily life in a different universe.

✯Sign: Virgo

Virgo's perfectionism and analytical nature fits well with acting, as the studious nature and attention to detail can attract people to your performances. As an earth sign, you may not be the most outwardly shiny, and prefer a calm nature, the accuracy you bring to roles is something to use to your advantage. Biopics could be something you're good at, something I thought of was like Christian Bale coping Tom Cruise for his role as Patrick Bateman kinda deal, you notice the little things that's needed to get into a role. This in the chart can point to where you excel at paying attention to details and where you aim for perfection.

☆7th House☆

We're talkin' contracts, we're talkin' relationships, we're talkin' marriage that's right baby this is the house of one on one. This talks about the kinds of contracts you may get (or if you should sign to them,) and how they benefit you. This is an important house as contracts are typically needed when it comes to acting on sets. This can also discuss the kind of on screen romances you may get into, or just even pairings on screen. This can tell you how your fans could react to your romances (or even ship you with others), and how you react to your own romances (like do you hide it? Work with your partner?). It can also talk about the people that openly dislike you and how easily you attract envy from others.

✯Roles

To me this is the rom-com house, like to me it's that balance of romance and humor that just appeals to Libra to me. Balance is the word for this house. Give and take between a pairing can be something you shine in. It makes me think of like Bill & Ted or Harold & Kumar or Kristen Wiig & Maya Rudolph, you shine on your own but the partnerships you act in make you shine brighter. That, or you could just be the ideal person to star as the romantic lead. That, or you could be good in roles that are designed to be the mediator. Lawyers, therapists, or just a role that puts you in the middle of conflict you need to calm down.

✯Sign: Libra

Calm, zen, and pretty vibes are what you bring. Like Taurus, opulence is something that you could bring to a role. Even in the most I guess "un-insert synonym for glamorous here" role", you bring a quality of polish to roles that comes naturally. Where Libra is in your chart is where you can appeal the most to people, or where you could even have the most consistent need to appeal to people, therefore making it easier for you to work with roles. Libra's air sign nature makes them adaptable, but to work with people. Libra's may be the perfect person to work well with directors, and be able to take notes well and fit into what they need. In your chart, this points to where you may fit other needs, along with bringing a natural polish and balance to your craft-but remember to put yourself first.

☆8th House☆

Hahaha this is the s*x house, but also death and depth that's needed as an actor. This could tell you about the darker side of being an actor. It can tell you how you handle yourself in private and prepare for roles, and how well you keep yourself in check almost. This can point to how you feel about any sort of intimacy on set, or how you deal with s*xual topics and even if you want to period. Do you talk about death in your roles? Are things that are hidden things you want to bring to light with acting? These questions are answered with this house. This can also point to how people treat those topics with you. It can show how people may view your attractiveness or how much they want to know your secrets. This house can also talk about the depth you long for when it comes to acting.

✯Roles

While the first thing I do was to cover is how you may be viewed as a s*x symbol, it does cover other roles, don't worry. Simply it can point to if you may get roles where you're s*xualized or viewed as anything like the other woman/man, or simply just the hot one of that makes sense. Marilyn had her moon in Scorpio in this house, and while she did want emotional depth in roles, others rather wanted to view her as something sexual and sad as shit (I'm looking DIRECTLY at the movie Blonde right in its fuckin eyes I hate at movie). This can also talk about all the darker topics you act in, so topics of dr*gs, death and even simply keeping a secret are roles you excel in. Anything others may not want to do, you would. You require emotional investment in your roles, or nothing. Depending on the sign, it could point to either faking emotional depth, or needing it so much you refuse shallow roles regardless of how good it is.

✯Sign: Scorpio

Scorpio as an actor scares me. Not in a spooky way, just in a way where I think they'd be method actors. I've said it before and I'll say it again, Scorpios like to get their hands dirty. The personality you bring obviously could be mysterious, sexy, and charming, but something I see more is dirty-but not in the gross way, but like I said in the houses section, you need to get your hands dirty and take roles others normally wouldn't-skill or reputation be damned if that makes sense, like playing a serial killer, or like Stanley Tucci in The Lovely Bones. You take roles others may not have the heart to. This is the house where you bring depth to the table, and where (or what) you're willing to dig your hands into to become the perfect person for the role.

☆ 9th House☆

The house of expansions, overseas/travel, philosophy and higher education leaves a lot to work with for this house. While this house could just be "oh travel different locations" I do notice that this placement might like press tours, or traveling to promote movies/shows in different countries. This could also tell what you may wish to expand and understand more in your acting. This house normally reminds me of people who like to learn and grow as people, so for acting and writing, you may never be satisfied with your performance, and therefore would like to get better, all with a feel good attitude. This house would do well with going to schools for the arts and expressing your inner thoughts and philosophy through your career. I feel like they may be heard better if that makes sense? Or your views on life could gain you respect. OR (I'm sorry I keep saying or just bear with me) it could even show how you go about learning new roles/methods of acting. 9th can also tell you about types of shows you could get cast in (or write, as it rules over publishing therefore screenwriting is in the mix.

✯Roles

Right off the bat, roles for this placement do kinda scream travel TV, like food or just traveling to explore foreign places and give your insight on them. And if you're not interested in the Travel Channel kinda vibe, roles that could work for you are ones that expand your life view. You may not like repeating roles, and sticking with the same thing for too long as you need to grow constantly with your roles. Roles like teachers, lawyers and religious figures may be things you like to play. Exploration of yourself and the way things are could be roles that fit for you. And if that sounds too heavy, don't worry. You don't need to dive into something serious right off the bat. It could be an exploration of simple things. Idk why but I just get Aang from ATLA even thought that's an animated series, it still works.

✯Sign: Sagittarius

Carefree attitude is the first thing that comes to mind, second is comedy. Acting as a Sagittarius embodies the Jupitertrian nature of almost overdoing things, but mannerisms? Like out of all of the actors I imagine using your hands and body language to act more than your voice. Like I said before, comedic timing could be your forte, like a lot of Sagittarius actors who do serious acting but are often overlooked when it comes to comedic talents. This in your chart can also tell you where you have the most expansion as an actor, and could have the most range/potential for range, but overall, where you may also need to have a more carefree attitude when it comes to the craft.

☆10th House/MC☆

The general house of success and awards can tell you just that. It can tell you the type of awards you may get/why, or how you go about accepting them. Like in terms of speeches and such (like if you got moon there or something they could be more emotionally driven you know the deal). This can also tell you the type of dedication you have to acting and the craft itself. Whatever rules/or is in this house could talk about how people also view your success, like I said before let's say you get an award, it could be how the public acts when it gets it, good or bad. Idk if I explained it correctly LMAO but it's kinda like the dedication you put in > how people see you (audience and critics) > how you get awards/public response to you winning them. Does that make sense? No? That's okay. This can also be a house that goes into casting, as it deals more with your public perspective.

✯Roles

Literally Succession LMAO. But roles revolving around reestablished high status (like I'm not talking about rags to riches with this placement, I think more of already having some sort of standing and fighting to keep it), or hierarchy are roles that would work for you. Roles involving royalty/history, similar to something like The Crown or Reign, things that like. Like genuinely could go more into detail but Succession is the best straight up explanation I could give 💀. Rich people doing rich people things and fighting to keep those riches. Very straightforward. Another role I almost forgot to mention is A Star is Born. That working up into your success may be something people like to see, real or fake. Use it.

✯Sign: Capricorn

Hard work and discipline is what Capricorn does best, and same with being straight forward. Look at where Capricorn is in your chart to know where you need to put hard work and put elbow grease into. Embody a natural (yet humble) boss energy, and bring it to the table. Don't let your standards drop wherever it rules, and because Saturn is Caps ruler, don't try to cut corners wherever it lands for you. Put in your all to get the benefits and rewards you deserve.

☆11th House☆

Goals! Aspirations! Friends! Fans! Humanitarianism! Look at all of that shit oh boy, you can see why in natal this is the house you look for when it comes to getting attention. But in this case, it can talk about the goal(s) you have when it comes to acting. What message do you want to get across? It can tell you where/how to set your sights to achieve the goals you want. It can also tell you how you channel your giving nature when it comes to acting/writing. Having heavy placements here could point to wanting to get a message across with your acting (like don't do drugs, murder bad, you know the drill). This can also tell the kind of friends you make, or how you evolve them. You may have a preference for working with people you're already friends with/attempting to lift them up (which sorta pairs with humanitarianism if you squint). This can also tell you how your fans may perceive/treat you. That's more straightforward like if you got Neptune there boom they're delusional. You got Mars? Mean as hell (I'm joking I'm 5 drafts into this post work with me here)

✯Roles

Ensemble roles may call to you, as this house is opposing 5th, there's less of a want of the spotlight on you, while still remaining the center focus (like for example shows like The Office and Brooklyn 99 are ensemble, but the main couples of those shows are considered the main characters). You may get roles that involve a community setting such as school, some form of class (dance, music, etc), something that brings society (or a micro version of it) under a microscope. This placement could point to friendlier roles, or if not friendly, the characters you play may be played by friends like I mentioned in the general section (working with the homies). Tech related roles may also appeal to you (like heavy CGI, playing the tech wiz friend), the syfy genre, or a futuristic setting are things you may like to play.

✯Sign: Aquarius

Uniqueness, individuality and a new perspective is what this sign brings when it comes to The Craft™. The Aquarius Leo axis is (imo) important to look at when it comes to things such as creativity and fame, so if Leo shows where you need to step out and shout to show your uniqueness, Aquarius shows where you need to step back and let your uniqueness shine on its own. Wherever it is in your chart is where you may need to think outside of the box and bring a new perspective. Use the classic Aquarius quirkiness to your advantage with whatever placements you have under it, and don't be afraid to be different from the rest.

☆12th House☆

In acting, this house is you. While 8th house does rule over hidden and can be what you keep private, 12th can just be what you do in solitude. It can tell you how your mental health could be affected by acting/how to heal it. This can tell how your spirituality comes into play when it comes to acting (do you do any sort of rituals kinda thing). The vibe of this house is to remain hidden, and most likely to keep to yourself, so it can say if you like being in front of the camera, or simply in back of it. Heavy 12th house placements could point to working well behind the scenes to direct, or produce instead. It can also tell you how people may hate you. That's pretty straight forward, but keep in mind it's always hidden.

✯Roles

Like I said before, these placement roles may be better suited out of sight, meaning, directing work, editing, and generally keeping hidden may be things you like. Other roles could be more mental and quiet ones. Like 8th house, these roles require you to dig deep. Method acting could be something that appeals to you to get yourself in the headspace required for acting. With heavy 3rd house placements it could point to voiceover/audio work (just wanted to make that clear). Roles that talk about mental health and the brain activity behind it could appeal to you.

✯Sign: Pisces

One of the natural signs of creativity and daydreaming, it can well, tell you where you daydream too much. Where you're so far up in the clouds you need to ground yourself in order to make things happen. Use the Neptune ruled planet to take the projection you get from others into attention, and wow them with the creativity you were born with. Where Pisces is in your chart, you may need to remember to stay focused, bring creativity into it, and could just simply tell you where you harbor the most dreams. This, like other water signs, can tell you where you may need to trust your intuition more when it comes to acting.

Ok planet time teehee

Sun: The roles you shine in and the environment you thrive in, what you may be known for acting wise and simply which roles you slip into the easiest.

Moon: The emotional energy you put into your roles, how you can tap into your emotional side when getting ready for a role.

Mercury: Your style of speaking/line delivery, how you write scripts, + 1 for voice acting.

Venus: Love interests (who you play or you you’re paired with), the style of clothing you may wear the most, aesthetics you may embody.

Mars: What topics you may have a passion for, the kind of anger you can have as an actor, or just general frustrations others may have with you, the driving force of your acting.

Jupiter: The success you get as an actor, what area of your life expands with it, how/what kind of travels you may take, your general acting philosophy.

Saturn: What you may need to work the hardest on/just constantly work at, restrictions you may have as an actor, delays you could have if you don't work with Saturn, and where you could reap the most benefits.

Uranus: The uniqueness you have as an actor, (looking at aspects) things about you that may stand out, the part of your life they could get shaken up/changed the most because of acting.

Neptune: A big indicator of the roles you'll get as it rules projection, also what part of your career people will project onto the most, what misconceptions others may have about you as an actor.

Pluto: What transformations you may have as an actor, there you may experience a downfall (and we do a lil trolling), where you may have more intensity when it comes to your career/how intense people are with you.

North Node: A path that may appeal to you when it comes to acting/things that are outside of your comfort zone that you need to master

South Node: Where you’re the most comfortable/your comfort zone, things that come easy to you

Common Elements (I literally forgot to add this section so I’m naming it what it’s called in Astro.com lmao)

Pars Fortune - Where you may be fortunate in terms of acting

Vertex - Qualities/Situations you’ll be destined to go down

Lilith - What feminine qualities you embody and where you may feel the need to have liberation

Chiron - Where you can experience the most pain when it comes to acting, or experience the most healing/be healing to others

Ceres - How you take care of yourself and others in your work

Pallas - A natural skill you may have when it comes to acting

Juno - The partnerships you may form in your time acting

Vesta - Where you have an undying dedication when it comes to acting

Asteroids to plug in teehee (Feel free to suggest more PLEASE)

Starr (4150) - Stardom and where you shine

Glo (3267) - Where you have a general glow/stand out compared to others

Fama (408) - Fame and Gossip that could revolve around you

Fan (151590) - The fans you may have/why they like you

Talent (33154) - General talent/a specific knack you may have

Fortuna (19) - Where you’ll experience the most fortune)

Thalia (23) - Comedic presence/ability

Copy:

4150,3267,408,151590,33154,19,23,

Ok!! There it is there's the post I've been sitting on like a silly little fella who just hates posting. Let me know what placements you have! I'd love to hear it/if you have any questions let me know, and I'll see you next posts ok now stop reading seriously get outta here

#astrology #astro notes #astrology observations #astrology asteroids #astrology chart #acting #actor 12238 #zodiac signs #midheaven #ascendant #astrology career #career #astrology persona chart

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atomiqueen · 1 month

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tag drop 1: muse.

#tag drop.#self. ( sugar bomb )#about. ( golden rule motherfucker )

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ayaboba · 1 year

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bubbly haze !

summary: their favorite bath products

chars: albedo, alhaitham, ayaka, ayato, childe, cyno, diluc, eula, heizou, itto, kaeya, kaveh, kazuha, mona, nilou, raiden, tighnari, wanderer, xiao, yae miko, yelan, zhongli.

cws: modern au, hardly proofread, maybe grammatical errors? gn! reader.

scented bath bombs - childe, ayaka, heizou, kaveh,

they own an impressive collection of bath bombs of every scent, color and shape, all meticulously organised categorically by aesthetics and purpose. you’d think they’d treasure them like precious lost gems, locked away in some fancy glass cabinets, but you’d change your mind in a split second if you saw them in the bath.

it’ll start off with one, singular bath bomb. it dissolves and fizzes, seeping and mixing into the water around them. but we could up that a bit more. there is a whole box just in the cupboard…

soon the bathroom smells like one of those heavily perfumed candle shops.

personalized shampoo and conditioner - albedo, tighnari, eula, zhongli

their hair game is top tier!! it’s serious business to them, and hair products from local stores just don’t meet their sky-high standards. their the ones that order from those custom-made sites, and claim that their deluxe, personalized shampoo and conditioner is 100% worth half their income. whether it actually works or not, it doesn’t really matter because their hair is a thousand times more healthy and shiny than yours :(

fragrant soaps + body washes - diluc, alhaitham, ayato, yelan, wanderer, yae miko.

these people always smell good. and its not from heavy layers of perfume, cologne or body mists, their charming aroma stems from their immaculate taste in bath products.

though it may not look like it, these people are very knowledgeable when it comes to the best complimentary scents and combos. very often they’d mix and experiment around different types of soaps and consistencies, spending a concerning amount of time in the bathroom perfecting their concoctions. despite this, they do have a favourite signature scent. it might be something simple like lavender, or something unusual like sandalwood and aquarian rose. ??

exfoliating sugar scrubs - kaeya, kazuha, cyno, raiden ei, nilou,

the same type of people who enjoys consistent self-care. they know that sugar scrubs aren’t particularly essential in baths, potentially harmful if overused, but it sure heightens and makes the experience even more delightful and comforting. the have only a few of different fragrances, but they treasure and savour them like its their last. after all, baths for them are like an escape from responsibilities and expectations, a gateway to temporary tranquility.

it doesn’t last that long, but at least they have their sugar scrubs.

water - xiao, itto, mona.

it’s basic, but it does it’s job…to some extent. sure, sometimes it doesn’t mask some odor, but its nothing a few spritz of cheap body mist can’t hide! (minus xiao for this part) they don’t understand the point of expensive products. aren’t baths are just obligations to make sure your clean? you could be spending your money and time doing things much more important and useful.

…but they’d never say no to a paid appointment at the bathhouse!!

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suzukiblu · 7 months

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Day twenty-four of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon.

“I’d say maybe a picnic in the park or something but that seems incredibly dangerous unless I can pre-verify that Ivy’s in Arkham,” Tim muses, smacking a few more goons upside the skull. The others are already scattering to bolt, and there’s not much point in chasing them down; they broke up the deal and sent the suppliers running, and that was the main concern. Now they can track down their source and go from there. “And even then it’s kinda fifty-fifty.”

“Yeah, you never know what she’s left out there,” Dick agrees. “Plus sometimes the things she’s left out there cross-pollinate, and then no one knows what’s out there, including her.”

“Don’t remind me,” Tim says with a grimace, having unpleasant flashbacks to the skunkweed thorns and pitcher plant trees. Ivy’s creative enough without any accidental cross-pollination happening.

“So what does planning a date have to do with that YJ-related op?” Dick inquires casually as the last of the grunts either hit the ground or flee. Tim does not freeze, because he's not fucking new here.

“Nothing,” he lies. “I’m cycling through the projects I have scheduled to work on this week. Next there’s a stakeout uptown and some reoptimization of my utility belt organization.”

“Planning dates is in the same category as ops and stakeouts and equipment maintenance, huh?” Dick asks with a laugh, holstering his sticks and then reaching over to ruffle his hair. “Never change, baby bird.”

Tim is absolutely going to, but again, hopefully not before thirty and ideally while bringing Dick along for the ride. Dick would be a terrible supervillain and also probably pout if Tim put Superman in a kryptonite death trap to sit and think about what he’s done, but Tim loves him and wants him to be happy and also wants to make this awful fucking world a better place, and you don’t do that by just ditching all your friends and co-workers; you plan ahead and work with them, flaws and all.

Anyway, Barbara would be good at being a supervillain, and she’d be a lot likelier to come along for the ride if Dick did. So that’s also another reason to recruit him.

They’d both probably like to kill the Joker, anyway. Maybe they could make the rusty crowbar and shrapnel bomb plan a group activity? That’d be nice.

Look, Batman doesn’t kill, obviously, but Tim isn’t Batman, Dick and Babs are also not Batman, and none of them ever intend to be. So “Batman doesn’t kill” is, in fact, only Bruce’s problem.

“So I know you’re going to laugh at me for this, but you know the circus is in town next week, right?” Dick says, sparing him a smirk. Tim considers tripping him with his bo staff. “You know, for this totally theoretical and generic one-size-fits-all date that you definitely don’t have anyone in mind for.”

“While I appreciate the suggestion, the person I don’t have anything in mind for has terrible self-esteem and I promised her someplace ‘nice’ for this totally theoretical and generic one-size-fits-all date,” Tim says, because he is definitely still in the closet here and he is not giving a Bat the clue of saying “they” to obfuscate Kon’s gender. Might as well light the Bat signal with a pride flag filter over it, for fuck’s sake. “She might take fifteen-dollar tickets and sawdust floors the wrong way.”

“That just means she lacks taste, baby bird,” Dick hums easily, putting his hands on his hips and tapping a foot in consideration. “Hm. Well, Zatanna also happens to be in town next week.”

Tim considers what it’d do to his self-esteem to watch Kon spend an hour-long show drooling over a gorgeous older woman in fishnets, spanks, and a sexy tuxedo jacket and decides not to go there. Also, there’s the issue of Zatanna potentially recognizing him, and also potentially recognizing Kon, who he doesn’t think she’s ever met but is both terrible at secret identities and a teen heartthrob superhero whose face is all over the place and also looks exactly like Superman’s on top of that. And Zatanna has definitely met Superman.

So yeah, that seems unlikely to end well either way.

“Maybe,” he says, finally retracting his staff and putting it away. “I don’t know if she likes going to any kind of shows, honestly. Like–I just don’t know her that well yet. Theoretically, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Dick agrees with a laugh, pulling out his grappling gun and wagging it at him. “Race you back to the Cave? Winner gets tips on how to charm a totally normal civilian who definitely doesn’t fight crime in a cheerleader skirt.”

Tim has no idea how he feels about the fact Dick is so certain Cissie is the one he’s trying to plan a date for. Then again, Cissie is the one who yelled at half the Justice League. So maybe he sort of understands the assumption.

Kon looks better in a crop top, though, Tim privately promises himself to never actually say out loud. Like, he definitely does look better, in Tim’s opinion, but a) Cissie would shoot him for said opinion and b) Kon would be unbearably smug about said opinion. And unfortunately, Tim finds Kon’s preening smugness increasingly charming, so he really can’t be doing that to himself.

He was so damn proud of himself about the fucking crop top, the bastard. Tim should burn it. Or buy him twenty more. One or the other.

The shorts he’s just not going to think about right now. Like. Ever again.

He’s pretty sure they’d work better with a thong than boxer briefs, though. Or just going commando outright, maybe. Tactile telekinesis probably makes chafing less of a concern, Tim figures.

Not that he’s thought about that. At all. In any way. Ever.

Definitely not.

Dick fires his grapple and takes off. Tim pretends to be extremely heterosexual about Cissie and not even slightly gay about Kon, though he has very little idea how to actually do that, and rushes after him. There’s basically no way he’s actually going to beat Dick unless criminal activity interferes or Dick just lets him beat him, of course, because Dick’s been flying all his life and flying in specifically Gotham since he was literally prepubescent, and Tim has just been sneaking around random rooftops and alleyways and only actually known how to do a basic somersault for a couple of years, much less any real acrobatics or aerial work. So like, there’s definitely a skill gap there.

Might as well chuck a flying fish at a hummingbird and see who comes out ahead, really.

Technically, though, Dick mostly works out of Bludhaven these days, so technically . . .

Look, Tim just so happens to know about certain construction-related shortcuts that may or may not be currently relevant thanks to some surprise rogue attacks last week, and even if he weren’t pretending to be heterosexual about Cissie he’d be trying to beat Dick back to get first dibs on Alfred’s jaffa cakes, so . . .

The jaffa cakes are delicious, though the dating advice is unfortunately irrelevant.

Tim appreciates the thought, at least.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young just us #young justice #rinfic #long post #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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writerpetals · 1 year

Text

date with a vampire | 🔞

; optional male lead smut | ☁️

// vampire!au , unprotected vampire sex

When your best friend tells you the news that she has someone new to set you up on your second blind date that month, you resist the urge to scoff with a roll of your eyes. Not that you don’t appreciate her efforts, knowing she only wants you to find someone nice, and she is probably sick of hearing you whine any time the two of you go out and you begin to cry about never meeting anyone worthwhile.

“Does he have kids he hasn’t seen in years?” you question as you stir the spoon in the mug in front of you while staring out the window of the small coffee shop, a lack of confidence this time around because you don’t want to waste your time with something that will go nowhere. “Is he over the age of fifty?”

“No to the first question, and…” She hesitates as she tucks loose strands of hair behind her ear before reaching for her own mug, taking a sip and fidgeting in her seat.. Of course she hesitates. There’s always the hesitation before she drops the bomb on you, and usually it’s after your first date, leaving you to either have the awkward conversation that it won’t work out, or feel like a jerk for avoiding phone calls and texts. “He might be… a little older.”

From her tone, you know what’s coming next. She’s either talking about a potential sugar daddy, or something less than human. It’s not like it’s any secret supernatural creatures have been coexisting with humans for far longer than the world has known about them, and growing up with the news that such beings existed has you nonchalant to the fact. You don’t plan on discriminating against them any time soon considering most only want to live peacefully like any other human, and she even dates one herself. Maybe it’s how she met this new potential candidate, and even though you try not to, you find yourself groaning at the news.

“He’s a-” She leans closer to whisper. “-vampire.”

“Why are you whispering?” You chuckle at that, watching a grin appear on her lips. “And I told you before, I’m not so sure about dating a vampire, or werewolf, or any other kind of man that can suck the life out of me in more ways than one.”

She giggles and shakes her head while picking at the muffin in front of her. “Well my girlfriend is a werewolf,” she reminds you, though you assume her girlfriend is a rare exception.

You went months without knowing her true self, and you would have never guessed her to be a wolf if you didn’t walk in on her shifting back to her human form one morning your best friend and you were scheduled for a coffee date. That was the morning you lost the spare “just in case” key to her apartment, and also the week the two of them moved in together. Not that you could ever complain. The two are happy, and as her best friend, you’re happy. You just wish she wouldn’t try so desperately to spread her happiness by setting you up on blind dates.

“There’s nothing wrong with dating them. They deserve happiness just like everyone else and-”

“I know, I know,” you interrupt her before she starts on one of her long-winded speeches. “Of course I don’t think there is anything wrong with them, I just don’t think they are… for me. I’m already bad enough at human dates.”

She sighs, slumping her shoulders, and you know she is going to guilt trip you into agreeing. “Just give it a try?” Her brows arch, bottom lip protruding. “If it goes horribly, blame it on me and I swear I will never set you up again, but…”

“But?” You admit defeat by humoring her.

“But I swear you’re going to love him!” Her eyes light up, a wide grin spreading over her face. “He’s good looking, polite, incredibly charming! Oh, and he owns his own tattoo shop!”

“Tattoo shop?” You have a hard time hiding your grin. “Did you really set me up on a date with some wild tattooed vampire that’s older than the two of us combined?” She chuckles at that, not bothering to answer the question.

***

Friday night arrives quicker than you expected, and maybe part of it is because you have been dreading the date night all week. You hoped you wouldn’t find yourself wishing it was over before it begins as you set eyes on the restaurant you agreed to meet him at, but it’s only natural after so many failed attempts at her finding Mr. Right for you.

Your eyes scan the bright yellow lights flashing with a special price of both human and vampire menu items, knowing places that cater to both have popped up more and more over the last few years as a way to calm the tension between the two. Though the items on the menu are questionable, you were happy to agree to an affordable place to go dutch. If the date turns sour, you can at least throw a few bills on the table and make a quick exit. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Though it is the first time you have been set up with a supernatural being. Or, at least the first you’re aware of, and your heart races as you enter the restaurant to tell the hostess your name. She smiles wide, showing off two pointed fangs to have your heart sinking into a twisting stomach, guiding you over to the table where you date is apparently already waiting on you.

The moment she steps aside, your sights fall on the man settled in the chair at the small table before you. His gaze rises to meet your eyes, and you aren’t sure whether to stare at his shy smile, the fact that he has no hints of fangs anywhere, or his tongue darting out the moment he licks his lips as he takes in the sight of you. Gulping, you nod to the waitress before she takes off, and then you take your seat across from him before he can stand out of politeness, smoothing your hands over your skirt and flashing a subtle smile.

He says in a deeper voice than you expected, grin widening, and as you tell him your name, he leans closer, never taking his eyes off of you. “It’s nice to meet you finally. She said you were cute, but I wasn't expecting this cute. Beautiful, actually.”

The heat rushes to your cheeks from the compliment, realizing vampires must be much more forward than guys your own age, but you try not to let his words get to you. You also try not to think about your best friend hyping you up so much, not wanting to deal with the consequences of being a disappointment if you didn’t live up to her generous praises.

“Thanks,” you tell him, eyes falling to your hands in your lap for a moment while hating the fact that your friend talks so much. Though, you have to admit she was right. He is charming, and good looking, and you will see as the night goes on if he is as polite as she promised. Any guy can sweet talk you, and you weren't born yesterday. “You must say that to all the girls,” you tease him, watching a wide smile appear on his face.

“I don't, actually,” he admits just as the waiter arrives at your table, waiting on you to order a water while your date tells him the blood type of his choice. For a moment, you forgot he isn't even human, only aware of the fact when you realize he's ordering blood and not a cocktail. “I have to be honest.”

Here we go, you think. “Honest is good,” you tell him, causing him to chuckle.

“I don't usually do this.” You refrain from raising your brows or pursing your lips. It's not like it's the first time you have heard that line before. “But she promised I wouldn’t regret it, and she told me we would hit it off and-”

“She likes to say a lot of things before she’s sure of them,” you interrupt, but the grin on his face admits he takes no offense. “She told me the same thing. And I don’t usually do this, either, even though she bugs me all the time.”

“Oh really?” The vampire perks up, grinning and flashing points of his sharp fangs. Your heart beats twice as fast, then you curse yourself knowing he can probably hear it. “What made you change your mind tonight?”

You can’t help but to smile. Damn her for being correct in the fact that he is really charming. You could melt looking at his smile alone.

“I don’t know… you know what they say. You only live once.”

“Well… actually…”

Suddenly, you’re bursting into a fit of laughter. Your vampire date smiles wider, and before you know it the two of you are cruising into comfortable, casual conversation. He tells you about his job owning a tattoo shop. You tell him about your favorite movies and books. He indulges in a few stories from his human life and you give in and tell him something embarrassing from the fifth grade. As the night goes on, you’re less and less focused on that fact you’re on ablind date with a vampire, and only feeling the natural connection between the two of you. He is charming, and handsome, and you don’t remember the last time you laughed this much.

You never thought it would be so easy to tell him little tidbits about your life and even silly, embarrassing stories. You never imagined yourself sitting for a long time even after dinner was finished listening to him tell you his adventures in different cities and late night exploring where humans don’t usually venture. The conversation grows so natural, it almost feels as if you’ve known him for a while.

“It was so nice getting to know you,” you tell him as the two of you walk from the restaurant onto the quiet street. Part of you wishes the night wasn’t over so soon, but looking at the time on your phone, you realized it’s been a few hours talking to the vampire. You didn’t even realize it was so late.

“Same here. I, uh…”

“Do you…”

You both begin to mumble and stutter and beat around the bush because neither of you wants to say goodbye. Sure, you’ve had your attractions to first dates in the past, but never have you felt so much desire to keep the night alive.

“Do you want to go back to my place?” you ask before biting your bottom lip. You’ve never been so forward, especially not on a first date. This vampire is drawing you in, you realize. Not only do you feel at ease with him, you suddenly feel hot and bothered at the thought of getting him alone. What would it be like with him? What would it feel like? Never would you have imagined yourself so worked over a funny, charming vampire, but here you are. Inviting him into your bed after one very long, very fun dinner date.

No, not the bed, you try to convince yourself. Just to get to know him more.

“I would love to,” he replies with a smirk, making your heart beat harder once again.

Shit, your curse at yourself. He can definitely hear it.

He extends his hand, showing a hint of tattooed skin beneath the sleeve of his jacket. It only takes a second for your palm to slip against him while wondering if he got those tattoos in his human life, leading the short walk to your place.

Suddenly you stop, however, turning to look at him. “Um…” You hesitate as he looks on with curious eyes widening. “Whatever happens… please, don’t bite me.”

Without thinking twice, he throws his head back in laughter, giving your hand a little squeeze after the few seconds it takes him to calm down. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in closer to whisper, “biting is no fun unless you’re enjoying it.”

***

You can barely make it inside before your lips are on his. His hands on you. Chests pressing together and you attempting to press yourself against his thigh where you need him most. It was like a snap of a finger, a flip of a switch. The more you talk to this vampire, the more you desire dancing dangerously close to the edge.

Now your back is pressed to your door. He pins you against wood with the weight of his own body, yet he’s still so careful, gentle.

“Do you have a key, sweetheart?” he questions between moments of his lips against your neck. “Or do you like giving the neighborhood a show?”

Again, you’re giggling before you’re moaning, feeling his tongue slip across your flesh with ease. “Pocket…” is all you can manage to get out. Your mind is in a whirlwind because of this man… no, this vampire. And the longer you’re in his presence the less you care about any danger or even the fact that he’s not human. Your body aches for him, desperate to see what he’s really made of. The need to experience something so otherworldly urges you to continue as he digs around in your coat pocket for your key.

Before you know it the two of you are stumbling into your home. The door barely shuts behind you before your back is against its wooden panels once again. Fingers pluck at buttons and zippers while his mouth explores your own in the process. Heat swells between your legs, eager to remove the clothing in the way to feel his skin against your own.

“Please,” you gasp, feeling his tongue gliding over the heavy pulse in your neck, “hurry.” Your fingers tug on the bottom of his t-shirt after his jacket falls to the floor, and he gets the hint by lifting the fabric over his head to toss aside. You quickly notice the dark ink covering his skin. The lines and swirls and designs painted on his flesh cover both arms and part of his chest. It stops briefly in your tracks, taking in the sight of this vampire, hot and heavy just for you, staring down at you like you’re his next meal.

And you very well might be, but you couldn't care less. Your body’s desire takes over all rationale and you’re pulling him in again. He tugs on your own clothes as he guides you toward the nearest surface. Fabric falls to the floor just as your thighs bump into the thick, wooden sides of your dining room table.

The moment your hands reach inside his jeans, the vampire inhales a sharp breath and a pop of his fangs jutting from their hiding place grabs your attention. Your palm rests on the thick bulge of his cock as you let the sight of the fine tipped points sink in. Shiny and threatening under the pale light of the moon’s glow sinking into your home, you realize it doesn't bother you in the least bit. He’s been funny and charming and sweet thus far, and now you’re dying for him to be anything but.

With a gentle push, you slip his jeans and underwear down his hips, revealing a thick, aching cock ready for you to play with. Giving it a simple, soft stroke with your palm, the vampire shudders a breath and closes his eyes. Maybe he isn’t so strong and scary, after all.

A smirk grows on your lips and it doesn’t take him long to realize how much you’re enjoying the power you have over him in the moment. Without warning, he grabs your hips to flip your body over, bare chest pressing to the table, naked ass on display for him.

“I can’t let you have all the fun, sweetheart,” he groans in your ear a moment before his hand slips between your thighs. Fingers caress over your swollen and needy folds, feeling the arousal dripping from your center before you’ve barely been touched.

“I thought… we were both having fun,” you tease him between gulps, giggling before a whimper slips from your lips the moment he finds your clit. It’s aching and dying to be touched, not taking long at all for your knees to be quivering. He offers a few gentle circles while chuckling in your ear.

“Of course,” he reassures you, finding your words amusing, “but feeling you shake with need against me is more fun, don’t you think?”

“Y-Yes…” You can barely get the reply out as he sinks a finger into your pussy, causing your eyes to screw shut as you take in the feel of him adding another. “Please…” Your back lowers and your ass arches to greet his touch, wanting more, inviting him in.

“You want more, sweetheart?” he asks so casually it almost makes you nervous. “Want my cock or my tongue?”

Your head spins for a moment as you take in the possibilities. Legs quivering already from just his fingers pumping so slowly, carefully in and out of you, you decide you want it all.

“God…” You squeeze your dripping cunt around the digits pushing inside of you. “Yes… more… anything…”

You know future you will be embarrassed by the relentless begging for this vampire, but in the moment you only want to experience all of him. Quickly, he removes his hand from between your thighs and drops to his knees behind you. Two palms press to your ass before a simple swipe of his tongue over your wet, aching pussy draws out the neediest whine of his name from your body.

“Oh… fuck…” you cry out, feeling his tongue tease your clit for a moment before dipping inside to lick up the juices spilling out. Then he traces a delicious line back to the swollen bud, circling it with the point of his tongue before wrapping his lips around and giving your flesh a gentle kiss. “Oh… Jesus Christ, that feels so…” You can’t finish the sentence before you’re gasping and moaning into the cool air.

You feel the vibrations of his chuckle against your flesh as he continues toying with your clit, tasting your pussy, drawing you closer to the edge.

“So wet, sweetheart,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your flesh before licking from your clit to your entrance, “tastes so good.”

Your body shivers from the deepened, darkened tone of his words. Desire drips from every word between fucking you with his tongue. Heat builds inside of you, coating on the edge of bliss every time he draws his tongue toward your clit to massage your flesh in a way that drives you wild. The grip of his palms on your ass gets tighter, adding to the pleasure as your knees begin to buckle.

It doesn’t take long for your pleasure to come crashing down around you. Warm bliss swells from between your thighs thanks to his diligent tongue. Legs shaking, lips spilling curses and whimpers, you come against his mouth as he continues tasting every drop. Even after your pleasure has subsided, he teases a few final circles around your clit, making your shiver and jerk your hips in response.

“Holy shit…” you curse with a sleepy chuckle, wondering if you should mention anything holy in his presence because what the two of you just did was anything but. You hear him groan at the sight of you still bent over, dripping from bliss and opening and waiting for him.

“Ready for my cock, sweetheart?’ he asks in more of a groan than anything else, and all you can do is whimper a subtle ‘please’ as he wraps one arm around your naked body. He holds you close while you feel the tip of his cock pressing to your cunt, running it up and down your slit to coat his flesh in your previous bliss. “I want to feel you come again while I’m inside you. Feel how tight you can squeeze around me.”

His words send a shiver racing down your spine. You’re hot all over again for him, realizing you want exactly the same thing, and he’s going to give it to you. Slowly, carefully, he sinks his cock deep into your soaked cunt, messy noises filling the dining room to mix with the moans you have no desire to hold back.

‘Oh… Oh my God…” Your head falls back, eyes closed, taking in the way you take in his cock, how it feels inside of you, deep and hard and oh so mind-numbing.

“Fuck,” he groans behind you, hand rising to cup your bare breast. He squeezes it gently before sliding his thumb over your hardened nipple. “Feel so good… so wet, baby.”

His voice is strained, dark, and deep against your ear. He can no longer stall as he pulls his hips away, only to pump his cock back into you. A surge of heat rushes through your body at the motion. Your legs quiver. Your mind tunnels in on the pressure building inside of you once again. So full of this vampire. His cock so deep inside your pussy. His grip on you strengthens, holding you still while falling into a whimper inducing rhythm.

“Please,” you grasp out, saying the words before you can stop yourself. “B-Bite me, please.”

He stalls his motions. His eyes lock into yours, searching your face for any uncertainty. For a moment, you think he will comply. His fangs are fully extended from the pleasure of filling you up. No doubt he’s hungry and horny and ready to feed and fuck.

But he simply shakes his head. “You asked me not to.”

You grin, wiggling your ass against him to let him know to keep going. He slowly falls into his previous pace.

“That was earlier, uninformed me,” you tell him, struggling to breathe through the words as your lashes flutter and your head rolls back again. “Now I know how good it feels being with you. I want… want more.”

“Then more,” he begins, snapping his hips against your ass to fuck you harder, “is what you will, sweetheart, but I will not go back on my word.”

With that, his hand snakes around your neck, the other pressing to your hip to guide your body forward. His pace quickens, rolling himself into you to earn every moan spilling from your lips.

“Touch yourself,” he commands, a dangerous hint of threat at the tip of his tongue to work you up even further, “slip your hand between your thighs and play with your pussy for me.”

You obey him without a second thought. Your hand falls between your legs, fingers quickly finding your clit to do as he says. The pleasure is overwhelming, heat filling every inch, legs quivering, all while he fucks you from behind. The blissful cries spilling from your lips only encourage him further. Nasty words fill the space between the two of you, telling you how good you feel, begging you to come on his cock.

It doesn’t take long to spill over the edge. Coming undone as pleasure swells throughout your body. A warm, muscle soothing sensation filling you up as your walls squeeze round the vampire’s length. He groans behind you feeling you come on his cock, continuing to pump himself into you until he’s losing himself to the moment as well.

He holds you tighter as he finds his own end. Fingers leave indentations against your flesh, tattooed arms pulling you closer every second until he begins to come down from the high. His motions slow. Your heavy breaths fill the room. Legs still shaky, he quickly gets the hint as he turns your body and wraps you in his arms.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks, but press his lip softly to your own before you have time to answer.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” you reply in a fit of overwhelming, bliss-filled giggles. He laughs as well, offering another tender kiss to your lips. “Never would have I imagined…”

“What? That it could be so fun?’

“... feel so good,” you add, grinning and wrapping arms around his neck. “I… Why didn’t you-”

“Bite you?’ he completes your thought. “You asked me not to.”

“But then I asked you to.”

He smirks, stroking your cheek with his knuckles before replying. “Well, it will be even more fun when I get to taste you in other ways next time.”

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