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reveluving · 6 months ago

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heartburn ; the ghoul x reader

summary: kindness gets people killed in the wasteland, and yet, cooper can't help it when it's you.

warnings: s~mut obv (minors DNI!), pre-war performer/entertainer!reader (for your creativity!); now an immortal ‘smoothskin’, soft as hell but our lovely ghoul is still a loud mouth, age gap but not really (think of him in his 40s & you in your 20s/30s but both in 200-ish years old), typical fallout violence & explicit language, loads of banter & fluff!

a/n: it’s here! based on this because the brain rot was (and is) so real. decided to call this the ‘la rouge series’, just to make it easier for tagging and when any lil’ pieces/asks come in. hope you guys enjoy & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» curious about my writing? come & check out my main m.list!

» smut includes: possessive soft & slightly mean dom!cooper, ‘pretty girl’ & baby as pet names, dirty talk i.e. + about exhibitionism (it doesn’t happen tho!), body appreciation, nipple play, spanking, fingering, a bit of edging/teasing, unprotected s~ex (p in v), bits of aftercare but overall, coop likes it nasty.

'It was worth holding back a witty remark during moments like these if it meant seeing you light up each time.' ;

It should’ve been uncomfortable; the sheen of perspiration building up along your body, despite the cooler night, albeit marginally as opposed to the day. Had it not been for the ceiling fan, no matter how slow it gets once in a while, you were indebted to its existence.

Especially at this exact moment, throwing your head and watching the contraption spin above you as Cooper bucked up into you.

Lucy had dozed off, you checked an hour prior, finding her asleep in the old guestroom when you stopped by. Maximus, too, snoring away on the wingback chair next to her. Whether it was because you entered with light steps or the duo were bone-tired, you had successfully spread the thin sheets over their figures before turning the table lamp off—all of which Cooper watched behind the door, feeling an overwhelming emotion brewing in him.

You barely knew them, hell, he was there when you shot Lucy a chilling look, realizing she was the daddy’s girl, but beyond that, you also saw two souls who were… lost. A set of strangers who wanted nothing more than to do the good thing, even if you didn't agree with their beliefs. And yet, the old caring nature in you couldn’t help but offer at least some form of appreciation for their humanity.

You held yourself back when Lucy babbled, even if—when you wanted nothing more than to cuss her father out. You didn’t lash out when she asked about your time in the shelters way before her mother was around. You acknowledged Maximus’s good intentions, even if they were a little gullible.

Cooper noticed it all, and fuck, if your unmoveable kindness wasn’t disgustingly the sweetest and sexiest thing he had ever seen.

It all felt like a typical romance movie after that, when you crossed paths in the living room, with you on your way to the kitchen when he stopped you. Delicately (and uncharacteristically, you might add) holding your wrist and tugging you to his chest to stare into your dreamy eyes. How a smile naturally bloomed on your face as you reached for his jaw. He indulged in your cutesy behaviour, as he always does, angling his head to kiss your palm while your eyes remained locked. It was worth holding back a witty remark during moments like these if it meant seeing you light up each time.

Not that you couldn’t handle them, if anything, putting him in his place wasn’t unheard of—you knew how to shut him up with that aura of yours from time to time.

But make no mistake; he knew how to get you tongue-tied, too.

He dipped his head, and the kiss that came was nasty. Swallowing your little gasp when he took hold of your jaw.

“Here?” You whispered incredulously between giggles when he led you to the couch. All he gave you was a grunt, falling back into the seat and pulling you with him. Your legs snugged around his as he encouraged you to sit, not hover him. The soft tune that played in the kitchen reminded you of a scene out of a cheesy porno from your old days, and when he hummed along, you knew he had the same thoughts, too.

“It's our house,” He grinned, “Means our rules.”

“Uh-huh,” You humoured, amused as you shook your head, but the use of ‘our’ did send butterflies to your stomach, “Mind elaborating, handsome?”

He explained all-too-happily, “It means y'got every right throw y'guests t’the doghouse if they start yappin’ ‘bout indecency.”

You say that now, but you knew he would shoot one in between their eyes for ogling you clothed, let alone in your glory. He has done it before.

Countless times.

But you’d kick him to the doghouse if he ever got blood on your floors. And just to piss him off further, you’d allow Dogmeat to sleep on the bed with you.

“You'd like to do that, wouldn't you?” I snorted.

His eyes lit up, taking your words as a green light, “Y'offerin’?”

You smacked his chest. “I know your games, cowboy. Room’s not far, y’know?”

“Aww, c'mon,” Calloused fingertips traced up your legs before slipping under the skirt, alternating between kneading and smacking your ass repeatedly to hear your squeaks, “When's the last time y'and I messed ‘round in the livin’ room?”

“Just last week.” You huffed, partially from the way his hips rolled against yours.

With any lack of action and the undeniably warmer weather throughout the day, you thought it was time to enjoy the night breeze with a slit skirt. The hems were slightly burnt off from past confrontations, involving a near-fatal experience with a Molotov cocktail, but besides that, it was relatively intact.

And just like you, it was Cooper’s favourite piece, too.

“Mm,” He acknowledged with a grunt, “Far too long t’me.”

He leaned back, arms spread across the backrest while looking at you expectantly

“Y’gon’ take it off f’me or…?” He asked. You rolled your eyes—as if you could ever refuse him.

But you couldn’t just give it to him, right?

You sat back, poised and coy, toying with him when you gazed up at him through your lashes. In the mood to give him a little show as it seemed like your guests were going to stay out cold for a while.

You were definitely teasing him when you popped the buttons of your shirt, only to let it droop around your elbows, just enough to get a glimpse of your cleavage and pesky black bra.

Reaching over, you dragged your index finger from his Adam’s apple, down to the collar. His overcoat long gone for your convenience, uncovering his chest without problems.

He was always intrigued, and if he was being honest, in disbelief by your fascination—by your need to have him unclothed in some form of way, despite his condition. The wariness grew over time, and he had not only relished it in but encouraged you for it, too.

Bunching up and pushing your skirt to the side, his fingers rubbed your pussy through your panties. He sighed, feeling the patch of wetness that soaked through the fabric. He was excited as you were, eager to feel you against him as he shifted under you.

He raised his fingers to his lips, sucking on his middle finger sloppily and groaning at your taste before dipping them under your panties. He straightened, pulling you forward by the back of your head as he prodded a finger into you. The position had you arching, chest to chest as he forced you to moan in his ear.

At your mewls, he was more than content to give you another, sinking his ring finger in bit by bit to feel you clench desperately.

He revelled in the warmth, the tightening of your warm walls as if fearing he'd pull out. The more you felt him curl inside you, the more useless it was to muffle your cries. The embarrassing squelch didn’t help either, but how couldn’t you, with that romantic stunt he pulled moments ago?

He tapped on your hips, silently requesting you to hold yourself up for a moment while he shoved his pants down. His cock stood with pride, twitching at the cool air and the anticipation to feel what his digits were feeling.

Pushing your panties to the side, he lined up the head of his cock to your pussy. He was practically dreaming of feeling you sink onto him at once, already bucking his hips to fill you to the hilt. Instead, you took him in ever so slowly, bit by bit before raising your hips till there was nothing more than the tip of him in you. Taking him in little by little as he teased you with his fingers.

“Y'tryin’ t’kill me?” He gritted out.

“You can handle it.” You cooed back, already losing composure as you felt up his chest.

He groaned, eyeing you dangerously only to shudder when your thighs slammed against his. You felt full, hell, you were full, needing a moment as your fingernails dug into his skin.

“Fuuuck,” He groaned, tipping his head back though forcing himself not to close his eyes to watch your tits bounce as you moved faster, “Look at y'go. Yeah, ride m’cock, pretty girl. Juuust like that.”

His praises had you pulsing around him, but so did his desperation. Slowing down once again to feel him buck under you.

But there was also something else about tonight.

Familiarity was putting his feelings lightly, unable to tear his eyes off as images of the same smile, maybe just a tad more innocent about the world, flashed before his eyes. Remembering his lucky encounters with you when you were both stars. When the two of you had dreams. When your worries at the time were nothing more than bringing joy to the people who watched you perform like you had hung the moon.

He could never forget admiring you and your artistry, similar to how you marvelled at his productions in awe, even after when they were nothing more than a man on a horseback before it all went to hell.

And to have him before you once more, albeit a bigger menace than you thought was possible, he was still your Cooper Howard.

Your cheekiness was wiped off when his hand dropped to your ass with a sharp smack, the slap drowning out the radio for a split second.

“‘Y'had your fun.” He growled. His hands held onto you so desperately, similar to the way you grappled onto his shoulders for support.

Your button-up was sticking to your skin just below your breasts, and as much as Cooper loved the little striptease, he wanted more.

He pulled the article further down by your sleeves, where you shuddered at the feeling of Cooper’s lips latching onto your skin. The sensation rough as he nipped at your rib. He surged forward, salivating as he sucked and tugged on your nipple. He let out a heady groan, tasting a hint of salt while rigorously bouncing you up and down his cock.

You were what pin-ups couldn’t emulate, what poets or authors couldn’t convey with mere words.

Anyone, surface dwellers and vaulties alike wished they could have you.

He crept one hand in between you, rubbing tight circles on your clit. He didn’t relent when you trembled, when you tightened as you came hard. Not even when you spasm, overstimulated when he continued to thrust in and out of you.

He held you down longer than you would've liked, too obsessed with the way your walls fluttered around him. Begging for some form of friction as you clamped him like a vice. The mewls that followed were music to his ears, frustrated in the cutest way when he did nothing more than flash you an infuriating smile.

A tight one, you noticed. Unable to hide his own need for long as your juices dripped down to his thighs. He was… a little sick in the head—who would’ve thought—abstaining himself from chasing the high for just a moment, just to amp up the pleasure and feel his desperation sated as if he finally deserved the ‘treat’.

“Coop…” You mewled, nearly choking on your spit as his iron-clad grip forced you to feel each and every ridge of him up to the brim, “Coop–! Please! Please move, please—fuck.”

Oh, how cruel of him to deny you. Especially when you sang for him so sweetly.

You raised your head, lips parted as his eyes bored into your teary ones. Even when you became lost in your lustful haze, only able to churn out nothing but his name as hushed moans, he couldn’t miss the small dazed smile flickering across your face.

He couldn’t resist, reaching up to brush across the pads of your plush lips. And as hooked as you were over the proximity, you placed your hand over his, keeping it on your cheek.

Your eyes screamed for him to go faster, to put you out of your misery. He pitied you to some degree when he rolled his hips.

“That too much? No, y'can take it. M'pretty girl can take what I give.”

“Gonna fuckin’ come in’ya, y’hear me?”

“Oh, you’re tearin’ up, feels really good, doesn’t it, baby?”

He slammed you down as soon as he came, thighs sticky and flushed. His grinds slowed down, chest heaving till he had his last spurts of cum in you. He traced his hands along the bruising spots he had left on your hips, then up your sides, tickling you.

The corner of his lips twitched at your tired giggle, catching your breath with your face pressed against his shoulder.

“Y’liked that?” He matched your amusement, reaching over the dry towel conveniently draped on the arm of the couch and wiping off the sweat dripping down your back.

“Mmm.” You hummed into his skin, already comfortable against him.

“Y’really liked it,” He reiterated, finding your playful eye-roll worth it, casually dragging the cloth under your chin and the area between your breasts before tossing it to the side. He let one arm outstretched on the backrest, “Y’need some water or somethin’?” You thought for a moment; you’d need a sip or two after all that, but you could hold it off for a few minutes.

“In a bit,” You returned to snuggling in his arms, much to his satisfaction, “Can't you just carry me to bed?”

“I would, but…” He trailed off. You followed his line of sight when it fell to his lap, not only reminding you of the mess but also if he stood up, well, you might as well fall with him if his pants dropped to his ankles. You knew he could clean you up and buckle his pants before carrying you to your room with no problem, he just didn’t feel like it.

And, well, you understood him.

“Fine,” You sighed, feigning resignation even though a little smile was playing on your lips. You knew each other too well, “But if I hear rushed footsteps or that girl yapping about ‘my eyes’, I blame you.”

“Not the first time you’ve ever blamed me for anythin’—m’poor ol’ heart,” He pretended to weep, placing a hand on his chest, only to catch yours when you tried to smack him for it, “See? Unloved, by m’own girl.”

You shared a laugh, and when he pulled his rest on your waist once more, you knew none of you were going anywhere.

In minutes, you were finally able to take in your surroundings, recognizing the chorus playing in the background, a classic of Dean Martin’s, one that even Cooper couldn’t help but hum to. It was soft, no more than within your hearing range, even bobbing his head to the beat. You followed, too, and to your surprise, the two of you coincidentally sang a particular line together.

♫ Your love made it well worth waiting ♫

♫ For someone like you ♫

You turned your head to head to the side before he could look at you after spotting the knowing smile he was sporting. And as the song came to an end, eyes droopy as he instinctively rubbed your back, his hat tipped down.

You couldn’t help it, craning your neck and planting one final kiss, to which he eagerly returned before your bodies melded into each other once more. Relaxed and protected from the dangers outside your safe haven, even for just a moment. So long as both of you were still breathing, you’d take the bull by its rotting horns in stride.

♫ Everybody loves somebody sometime ♫

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

a/n: fun fact! ignoring the fact that the concept of the game is inspired by the 50s and burlesques would no longer be as famous then, one of the many entertainer options I imagine for the reader (depending on the fic) is burlesque (?) dancer, which very much inspired this piece! not necessarily as her job in the old days but someone who knows a thing or two about it! but again, as the reader, you have the right to imagine whoever you or your mc however you’d like! ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

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