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#john hancock fallout 4 x reader
shnargo · 4 months
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shoop-ing
pairings: john hancock x reader warnings: sexual innuendoes?? a little?? word count: 564 a/n: i have fallen desperately for this man, and i am very disappointed to find there aren't that many fics for him >:( so i'm adding to the pool. also sorry for disappearing, char.ai held me hostage for a long time and i'm actually finding inspo for writing again
"You're staring you know." The ghoul finally speaks after taking another hit of jet, tossing the now empty canister into a nearby bin that's similarly filled with various used chems and needles alike. All the trash bins in Goodneighbor were like that, a common vice shared by its residents. "You gonna share why or are you just gonna keep enjoying the view? Not that I mind, a'course." He ends with a rumbly chuckle.
"How does one exactly kiss you?" The words come out before your brain can catch up, and you watch as he manages to look surprised by you for once. You blame the old wine you picked up earlier, it was a gamble in drinking it to see how potent it really was. Your eyes end up drifting toward his nasal cavity as you try to sort the idea out in your head. "Wouldn't the noses just.. shoop?" You pair your improvised sound effect with a hand gesture that's a lot more sexual in retrospect.
Hancock barks out a full laugh at that, the sound resounding in his office room that you're sure that Fahrenheit can hear it loud and clear from the other room. You would manage to feel embarrassed at yourself were you any less piss drunk. "You got a thing for nose-on-nose action or what?" He asks, onyx eyes sparkling with humor as he sees the frown his words bring to your lips. "I'm serious, Hancock."
"How about you make yourself a scientist and test that theory of yours, then?" It's far less forward than any of the other comments he's thrown your way in the past, but whether it's the buzz warming your skin or how his hand creeps toward your side of the couch as he tries getting closer to you, he seems serious this time. Lifting yourself from your laying position, you figure it's good enough to try calling his bluff. And if he's actually serious about it?
Well, you wouldn't be complaining either way.
He doesn't shift much himself, but his gaze is intent on your every action. By the time your hands are on his chest, his find their place on your back. Respectful, but firm in making its presence known to you. As you raise your head in meeting his lips, you can catch the way his breath hitches, giving away his nervousness that he has about this situation no matter how well he tries to hide it.
It's mostly his nose bridge, or rather, the nasal ridge that juts out barely enough to keep your still flesh-covered one from dipping into the cavity nearby. Though you find yourself distracted by his chapped lips already working yours, that are no less chapped. Lip balm wasn't accessible in the apocalypse after all. But saliva is exchanged, smoothing the process in more ways than one as his other hand comes up to the back of your neck to edge you closer to him.
Once you mutually pull away, the next few deepened breaths are found in sync. Hancock's fingers play with the hair by the base of your neck, he was never a man to keep still for long. "How unfortunate." He finally rasps, lips quirking up as his gaze is held in yours. "I guess you didn't have your "shoop"-ing after all."
You grab the rim of his hat and shove it over his face.
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eupheme · 4 months
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— Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On
Hancock (FO4) x Sole Survivor!F!Reader
Rated E - 5.8k
Tags - 3rd person very loose pov, sole survivor!f!reader (no descriptors), canon-typical raider violence & death, mutual pining, teasing, partners to lovers, two idiots in love, waiting out a storm, mention of food/eating, SS!reader gets dicked down wearing Hancock’s coat, the hat stays on, fingering, oral (f receiving), spitting, manual restraints, multiple orgasms, PiV, creampie, mention of a cigarette/smoking, references to chems 
started this while doing research for wasteland, baby - and was consumed with thoughts of a slightly softer “oh fuck, I’m in love” Hancock
It’s a dangerous thing - to have feelings for the person you’re traveling with. Too many things can go wrong in an instant and yet…  here they are. Steadfastly ignoring the something that has been building, thick enough to taste. 
Luckily, an incoming rad storm might just be the push they need. 
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He’s fucked.
Figuratively, not literally. Unfortunately.
That’s part of the problem, if he could call it that. And he probably shouldn’t - because it’s not her fault. Just his. 
It was a rookie move, falling for his traveling companion. Should have kept it just professional - strictly business. No ‘get to know you’s, no inside jokes. 
But he had never been the professional type. Not his style. 
And somewhere along the way - between getting the shit kicked out of them, the close calls, the long miles of barren road - something had started to grow. Curling around his ribs and filling his guts up like ripe tarberries. 
Letting it grow and flourish. 
Unable to shake it. 
It hadn’t been long before he had known something was up.
That it was something besides that urge to get away from it all, to wander, that kept him sticking with her.
That along the way, the idea of this stranger having his back became comforting. That he knew he had hers - even if he half-thinks she have a death wish, with the way she rushs into things half-cocked.
He can’t understand, but he tries. The bits he’s gleaned from late nights - passing the bottle of whisky back and forth even though it makes her grimace. The pieces of her past that have slowly been revealed, forming a half-completed picture.
It’s enough to make his blood boil, that scorching feeling of vengeance curling in his chest, eating up his insides. It’s been a long time since he felt that way - making him think back to the night where he had stained his hands with all that red. 
He’d do it again, for her. 
It’s that realization made him think that just maybe - he cares.
And not just in a friendly kind of way. 
He thinks it began in the middle of a firefight.
Bullet whizzing past their heads. A nest of raiders flowing out from a jutting wreck of scaffolding they had missed.
Several downed already, lost among the ruins. A souped-up pistol in her hand, as the other shielded shrapnel from a hand-made grenade.
Missing the two that snuck up, flanking them. 
He had taken one down. A nasty shot to the gut, the Raider gurlging as his legs gave out. Her shot going wide - he can still remember the look on her face as she reached for the gun on her back.
The other Raider taking the moment to bowl him over, a padded shoulder to the chest. Knocking them both against a piece of metal fencing that creaked under their weight - his shotgun clattering to the pavement. 
An arm pressed against his throat, choking him - as the other fumbled for a knife. Ironic, he thought, that he’d be gutted, after all he’s done. 
But she had swooped down. Fingers twisted around the barrel and forestock of her rifle. Bringing it down on the raiders head like it was a louisville slugger, snarling like she herself had gone feral.
Her hand, warm in his as she hauled him up, the other splaying across his chest. Face streaked with grease and splattered with blood but in that moment, she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen.
“Thanks, sunshine.” He had murmured.
Her smile had been small, as she pressed the gun back into his hand, “Can’t have you getting stabbed. I’d miss that mouth of yours.”
Such a small thing - her own joke. The way he filled the space with chatter on the road. But he’d been smitten. 
He had been good looking, before. He wasn’t half-bad now. Charisma could get you a long way, and his silver tongue hadn’t rotted like the rest of him. 
Charming words - flirty and sometimes filthy - slid easily from him in the heat of battle, the wind-down after. When he was feeling good about things, the words coming without thought.
Choking on them, when she turned to give him a look - embarrassed, sometimes. So goddamn cute and flustered, it made him want to do it more. 
Other times - a look, that was soft and lingering. 
“Yeah?” 
Almost a challenge in the way she said it.
He could never follow it up. 
Follow through. 
Because back home, it wasn’t an issue. A rejection meant nothing other than a soft blow to his ego. Brushed off with a hit of a favorite indulgence, finding company in another.
But here - it had a weight. It could ruin something he truly has enjoyed. Throwing in with her had been one of the best decisions he had made. He couldn’t fuck that up. Not this time. 
So he swallowed his words - before she was racing off, and he was following at her heels. Off to trouble that could be their last, and here he was - that clever tongue tied in a knot. 
That’s when he knew that he had it bad. 
Bad enough that out of the two of them, he had been the one peering up at the sky overhead. Where the muted hazy grey was rolling into a sickly green, rain starting to drop down. A rumble of thunder.
The first to suggest stopping at the next place they could, as the spaces between the raindrops started to dwindle.
“We can make it.” She had shrugged, as his jog slowed to a walk.
Catching her arm at the elbow, gesturing with the muzzle of his shotgun to the side.
“Not if you don’t want to end up like me, sister.”
Ignoring - but not missing - the chastising look she shot him. His head tilting towards the roof that looms just over the ridge.
An old diner - rusting chrome and shattered windows, but it would do. Well past soaked by the time they scrambled over the hill and down. Grateful to find that it was abandoned. 
Picked over, for sure - but as long as there was a roof over their heads, he hadn’t cared. Combing through junk was her thing, anyways. He was just the pack mule.
Now - he’s multi-tasking. Trying not to think about what he’s thinking about.
About her changing in the room behind him. Peeling the patchwork raider gear off her curves. All that soft, smooth skin underneath.
Distracting himself by eyeing the radroach that is skittering across the pavement outside the front door - just out of range of his shotgun.
Because of course, out of everything in the wasteland, that was the thing she was scared of. Not super mutants, not even the pack of mirelucks that had them cornered, just the week before. 
A goddamn bug. 
He laughs, a soft hushed thing. Catching himself with a grimace. 
Because, like he said.
He’s fucked. 
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The rain that patters overhead would be calming - if it had been 200 years ago, and not dripping with radiation.
She shivers, draping the tattered pants and worn shirt over the back of two rotting, wooden chairs - a makeshift drying rack. Missing that insulated warmth of her Vault Suit, trading it back at Sanctuary for worn clothes - old and salvaged Raider gear.
It had become hard to blend in, in all that blue.
It had made sense at the time, but in the dark and chilly backroom, she finds herself regretting it. Thinking that next time - she’ll pack it with her.
Trying to find the dampest parts of the packed gear to lay out, next. Lining up the bedroll next to the glow of the lantern. 
Don’t need any more must or mold than there already was. 
Pawing through her bag afterwards, coming up with something to pass for dinner. A can of cram, their only good fork wedged between two knuckles. A sweet roll split in two - the sticky crumbs clinging to her fingers as she nudged the door open.
Feeling vulnerable in the faded undergarments she wore underneath. Dreading facing him, not because of what he’ll say - that part, she is actually curious to hear. 
She’d given up on the idea of modesty long ago. Traveling on the road and through the dirt and blood and grime will do that. 
It was almost freeing.
No. It’s because - it makes her hope. Makes her think that dressing down might actually get him to notice her, in a way that’s more than the surface-level, flirty conversation she’s seen him have with dozens of people. 
In the old world, maybe she’d wear a dress for him. Something red and cut low in the front - bare arms and legs.
Now, it’s faded cotton and vulnerability.
A “I can trust you like this” and a “Maybe if you like it, it will make me brave enough to ask.”
Rejection dressed like this would sting, surely. Even if it’s her fault, for having a crush on someone who doesn’t see her that way. 
Her eyes linger on his back, where he stands watch. Where he hadn’t heard her open the door just yet, drifting to the other side of the counter to watch the rumbling, green storm roll in.
The tin clatters on the counter, drawing his attention. A flicker of lightning illuminating his profile as he turns, eyes widening. 
Hancock’s eyes drop automatically. Quickly and then a slow drag - it’s like watching him after she’s taken a hit of Psycho. 
Dark and glittering under her own careful watch, before they’re snapping back up, and he’s blinking. 
Pulling himself back. 
“Is that dinner?” He asks, clearing his throat when the words come out rough and low. 
Her face falls, just for an instant. A small smile replacing it, as she scoops up the tin of cram before tossing it his way. He catches it neatly - popping the lid open, plucking the fork from her fingers. 
She should have known better. 
Hancock was just a flirt, never taking her bait. It was a good thing, she thought. Honorable, despite the grey that’s soaked into both of their moral codes. 
He digs the fork in, breaking off a piece of the preserved meat. Handing the first bite to her, unable to help another quick look as he lowers himself to one of the stools that curves around the diner countertop. 
Not that he hasn’t seen her before. Never quite this bare - but close enough, from the quick times they’ve had to change clothes.
It didn’t mean anything. 
“So uh, what’s with the getup?” Hancock can’t resist asking, his tone deceptively light, “Or should I say, lack thereof?
“Clothes are soaked,” She snorts around the mouthful, trying to sound disinterested, “Besides, you’re always telling me it’s not good to let the rads soak in.”
He’s curious now, catching that slight edge. Not usually so defensive - that expression she makes when she’s flustered. It makes him want to nudge at it, poke at that little crack. 
“Hey, you don’t hear me complain’, sister.” Hancock grins, taking the fork back, “That’s a real good look for you.”
Always a joke. 
Her eyes roll as she sits down on the stool to his left, her knee knocking against his. The halves of sweet roll balanced on the curling, discarded tin, for after. 
They share the makeshift dinner. Passing the fork back and forth, trying not to think about how easy it feels to be like this. 
Companionable silence, beneath the rumbling, dark green sky. Tucked away and sheltered from the storm.
She stares out across the wasteland, lost in thought. Moving on to other things, already planning for the morning. If there’s any stops they need to make on the way back to Sanctuary. 
While his eyes wander - a sideways glance that drifts down her form greedily, only to shift away when her own lift. 
A breeze cuts through the building where windows once lived, making her shiver. Arms moving from the countertop to wrap around a bare middle, curling in on herself.
“You cold, sunshine?” He asks with concern, bringing her back.
She hadn’t noticed, but now she does. The chill starting to sink in, now that she’s not moving, not covered in the layers and padded armor. 
Goosebumps raise on her skin. Arms crossing tighter across her chest, as her lips part to answer.
But Hancock is already shrugging off his maroon frock, swiveling in his seat to swing it around her shoulders. 
She rarely seen him without it. Fuck, he even sleeps in the damn thing - a prized possession, if he ever had one.
“Thanks.” The word is layered with sincerity, as she pulls it close around her, the high collar brushing her cheek. 
Warmer already. The inside is soft against her skin, the fabric worn and stained and smelling like him.
Silence lingers for a moment, as they stare at the darkening sky. The heavy blanket of rain that still patters on the rooftop, a slow drip down to the tile floor on the other side of the room.
"Hope this lets up by morning," She says as she leans, warmer now - elbows pressing into the stained laminate counter.
Eyes out of focus, thoughts already running off without her. "Stop by Sanctuary, pick up some things for Tenpines. Haven't been there in a bit, been wondering how they've been holding up."
He mirrors her - feeling bare without his coat. A heavy lean on his left elbow, the swivel of the chair bumping his knee against hers, "’m sure they're fine. Gotta be better off than they were before."
A smirk crosses his features, a glance from the corner of his eye, "'Sides, not every day you get saved by the fearless leader of the Minutemen. That oughta keep 'em going for a while."
There's a groan as she slumps, the heels of her hands pressing into her eyes. Garvey's enthusiasm and her recent promotion to General a source of embarrassment, even if she bore the weight of it well.
"Yes, the fearless leader," She mocks, her head turning his way. Pushing herself up, her arms spreading wide, "If only they could see me now."
And they might not be able to, but he can.
Not just the soft expanse of her skin, peeking out from beneath his coat. The hollow of her throat, the curve of her breast and the strain of her tits against worn fabric that will be forever seared into his mind.
Not only just that, though. That something that he can see inside her - that was there when he had decided to leave Goodneighbor. That lingers with him, tethering them together as he follows at her side. And yes, he does stretch the truth - who doesn’t? He wouldn’t make half as many deals, otherwise. 
But he’s isn’t, now. 
She is unaware of the thoughts that tumble through his mind, quick as old snapshots. A curling amber film strip, tucked into a canister. 
Instead, there’s a roll of her eyes as her comment of "really, only you could pull this coat off" lands on ears that had been muted, in the way his mind drifts. How the low pooling of warmth in his belly turns sharp and cramps, at the thought of Preston Garvey spending time in such company. Like this - without him.
"I wouldn’t say that." He hears himself saying. Voice a little lower, raspier, than usual.
Maybe it's bravery. Maybe it's him finally seeing her intent - maybe it's the moment where he's realizing that after tonight, she's no longer just his again.
His eyes drag over her again, slower this time. And he lets her catch them.
"From here, things are looking pretty good."
She stills, eyes rounding. A swivel of her chair until knee-to-knee becomes thigh-to-thigh- something akin to hope slipping into her tone.
“Yeah?”
He reaches - fingers tracing the collar of his coat, thumb rubbing against the hollow of her throat.
“I’d say so.” Hancock tells her, “Look like a goddamn dream, if I’m being honest.”
She’s tired of waiting. She’s done enough of it. Eyes on his as her chin tilts up, just hovering.
He’s tired, too.
With a lean, he takes the offering. Ruined lips press against soft ones. Ones that part for him, a soft sound at the greedy dart and swipe of his tongue, until she’s meeting him.
She’s sweet - he can taste the sugar on her tongue, melding with the taste of her. Fingers press against his chest, where his heart hammers. Sliding over lithe shoulders until they’re wrapping around, pulling him closer.
He’s stronger than he looks. The seat squeaks when he leans, his palms tracing her waist, her hips. Tucking beneath her thighs - right against the curve of her ass as Hancock lifts his hips, taking her with him.
She moves, his name a soft sound in her throat. Letting him lead, letting him ease her onto the edge of the counter. A sense of relief and hope floods through her, dripping down to settle warm and wanting between the thighs that spread open so he can step between them. 
His cock swells, where it’s trapped inside his pants. Easing the ache with a roll of his hips, pressing himself against the thin fabric covering her core. The breath she inhales in response is shaky. Another soft sound, so different than the assured tone he’s used to. 
He wants to hear it again.
It’s easy to set the pace - the pointed press of his hips. Her hand finding his, drawing it up to her breast. Letting him cup her, the soft weight. Letting him press his thumb against that tight peak, catch it between his fingers until she’s gasping against his grinning mouth. 
Her mouth drops, catching his chin. The tip of a tongue between parted lips press against his cheek, warmth breath against his jaw making him growl. 
“Please-” She’s murmuring, against his skin. Against muscle and sinew, as his own lips follow.
Fingers biting into his skin, as his teeth graze her jaw. Her head tilting back, baring her throat to him, as her hips rock to meet his. Eyes fluttering shut as her chest heaves, as his other hand curls against the curve of her hip, keeping her close. 
His tongue peeks out, dragging against sweat and rain-dewed skin. A groan rattles in his throat, his own voice distant and rasping.
“Fuck, I need to taste you.” He can feel her moan, against his lips at his words, “Lean back for me, doll.”
She’s soft, pliable. Unwinding herself from him as she obeys, only for those hazy eyes to open - meeting his beetle-black ones. 
“Wait,” She’s protesting, hands slipping to press flat against on his chest. A sudden realization - shoulder curling back so his coat slides off it, “Let me take this off.”
“Leave it.” Hancock’s head lifts to kiss her again, his hand curling around the back of her neck. 
She huffs against his mouth, before it turns into a sigh. His tongue brushing against her lower lip, before she pulls back again.
Not wanting to forget her train of thought.
“What if I make a mess on your coat?”
He groans at that, the hand on her hip drifting lower. Cupping her over the thin piece of fabric, fingers pressing down. 
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He husks, “I’d fuckin’ love that. Never gonna take it off.”
It makes her scoff, cheeks burning, “You never do, anyways. You-”
He shuts her up with his fingers - tugging at the elastic waistband, pulling them down until she’s bare. Letting her kick them off, before he’s pushing her back against the counter.
Arching over her soft form as his mouth wanders, his hips grinding against hers. Teeth nipping at her throat, lips brushing where her heartbeat flutters. Clever fingers tracing the seam of her sex, brushing over soft lips - teasing. 
She’s so fucking wet, he can feel how his fingers glide over her skin. How it smears on her thighs, as they spread wider for him. 
“What do you want?” 
It makes her sigh - that voice, so low and rasping - and she’s clenching around nothing already.
“You,” She’s unable to help but whine, “Please, you-”
His laugh is rough, a rattling chuckle in his throat, “You have me, sunshine.”
Middle finger parting her, teasing at her entrance, the calloused pad of his thumb circling around the bud of her clit. Sinking into the wet heat as she groans, starting a slow pump of his textured finger.
Pressing deep with a slow thrust. Another, and then another, until she’s taking a second. Stretching her wide, as her fingers twist in his stained shirt. Grasping for his shoulders as her hips buck into his touch. 
“Should say how do you want it?” The kiss he presses against her throat is almost reverent, “Because I don’t think I have it in me to go slow right now.”
“Slow, later.,” She moans, as his fingers press deep, “Need you.”
He grins, “Love how you think, sweetheart.” 
Hancock’s head ducks, moving down to her collarbone, then lower. She’s already reaching to tug the cups of her bra down, baring the curves of her breasts to him.
“Fuckin’ beautiful.” He hums, fingers brushing over the soft weight again, cupping one in his hand. Still fucking her open with the other, curling and stroking until she’s panting. 
Tongue peeking out to flatten, and then drag across the tight peak of her nipple. Her hands grasping for him again, as there’s the briefest pinch of teeth.
“Hancock.” She grits out, a swivel of her hips against his, grinding into his fingers. 
His own rocking against the back of his hand, where he’s hard and aching. Never thinking he’d know what it’s like to have his partner begging like this. 
He wants to hear more. Every little sound she makes, as his mouth moves lower. Licking wet stripes against her stomach and abdomen.
Until he’s plunking down on the padded chrome stool he’s been straddling. Gazing at where she’s wrapped around his glossy fingers. 
Watching how she twitches and bucks and gasps when his thumb swipes across her clit, his name on parted lips again.
“Love hearin’ you say my name like that.” He purrs, “Can’t wait to hear how it sounds when you come.”
Leaning forward, inhaling her scent before his tongue swipes above his fingers. Her hips leave the countertop, the moan loud as he laughs - his other hand pressing flat against her stomach. 
Holding her down, as he teases her again. Short, pointed licks against her throbbing clit. Her cunt is as sweet as her mouth, his own groan caught in his throat as his tongue dips inside her. 
Mourning all the nights he could have spent like this. Spending the time as evening turns to night, then again as night turns to dawn. Drowning in the taste of her instead of clenching his teeth until his jaw aches, as he tries to keep quiet. Dreaming of this. 
He leans back, just enough to press a wet kiss against her clit. The soft suck a sharp contrast with the texture of his rough fingers as he fucks her open. 
She was right - it’s messy. Dripping down the curve of her thighs, the damp stain mixing with others on his weathered coat. 
Everything is so dry, in the wasteland. Dirt roads and dead trees. He relishes in the wet suck of her cunt, how it’s this way right now because of him.
His cheeks hollow, a swirl of his tongue before he’s adding to it. Leaning back to let his spit drip down, his thumb dragging it across the tight bud.
She’s whimpering. It’s been ages since she’s had anyone - the low throb in her belly swiftly building. 
In the before - she thinks she’d be embarrassed to be splayed out like this. Stripped near-bare on the counter of a diner, thighs spread wide as his fingers pump into her aching cunt.
But he eats her like a meal, left hand moving from her belly. Wrapping around a thigh to tug her closer, hiking it over a shoulder.
Groaning into her pussy as his tongue flicks against her clit, smearing slick across his chin. Pressing closer, unhindered by the usual curve of cartilage and flesh as he molds himself against her. 
“Hancock.” His name is a sharp gasp, as she clenches around him. Breath held in her throat as she watched with half-lidded eyes.
Focused on the tight string that winds with each careful curl of his fingers. He slips in a third and she all but sobs, chasing her pleasure with a needy rock of her hips.
Chanting him name as it curls low in her belly.
“Hancock. Hancock-”
And then, the prettiest of all.
“John. Fuck, John, I’m going to come-”
It’s goddamn music to his metaphorical ears. Better than that - better than the sing of gunfire in his favor, of the sweet rush and hum of that first hit of Jet.
He watches through those dark eyes as she falls apart. Her cry loud in the empty diner, as she’s struck - the livewire crackle of her orgasm ripping through her.
Better than she can ever remember. Thighs squeeze around his neck but it only makes him moan - breath hot against her cunt as his fingers continue to pump. And his tongue dips to taste her, slipping between knuckles. 
The pleasure throbs - the stained ceiling spinning, looking like the clouded stars high above them to her hazy mind. 
A disbelieving and dazed laugh caught in her throat as his mouth moves. Pressing against her mound, the sensitive curve where thigh meets hip. 
It’s only then that she’s unhooking her thighs - a heat blazing in her cheeks at the brazenness. Too caught up in the moment to see herself - splayed out across the countertop, heels digging into his spine. 
But she does see him - the need etched across his face under the tip of his hat, the wet shine against his lips and chin. Deadly in a new kind of way, mixing with the prowess he shows on the battlefield.
There’s another low throb, deep inside her. The lithe way he moves, rising - a hand planting next to her hip, the other working the heavy buckle open.
She meets him - pushing herself up. A hand coming to cup him, feeling the hard length that strains against his trousers. Tasting herself on his tongue when her head ducks to kiss him, swallowing his groan as her fingers palm and squeeze. 
“Drivin’ me crazy, sunshine.” His voice is like gravel, as he works at the zipper - her fingers slipping past to wrap around hot skin, “Enough to make a ghoul go feral, you know that?”
Her smile is pretty - pleasure-drunk, and he hasn’t even fucked her yet. Her hand soft and warm where she eases him out, the brush of her thumb over the head making his cock throb. 
“Me too. I need you.” She begs, and he knows it’s more than that just that.
That it’s not just fucking, right now. That a line has been crossed, that they’ll never be able to not want this again. More than ready to tumble over into the unknown, together.
“My mouth wasn’t enough?” Hancock grins. Fully intending to have her every way she’ll let him. Unable to resist making her squirm.
The look she gives him makes him chuckle - the gentle pull of her fist, the little frown. The way her thighs spread again, aiming the flushed tip of his cock over slick skin. Against the tight nub of her clit as she shivers, lips parting with a gasp.
“Hancock, don’t tease-” Some of that bite is back, desperate. Not begging but it’s close, as her hips lift against him again. 
“I’ll give you anything you want.” He promises, “Just like hearing you say it. Come on, sweetheart.” 
It’s hard to hold himself back, when she’s notching him against her opening. His hands sliding to her hips, liking the way his fingers sink into her skin.
How it dents around his calloused ones, soft as the rest of her.
“Fuck me.” Her eyes are on his, watching where they drag from his fingers to her pussy. Watching how his chest heaves beneath his vest, where his chest peeks from loosened buttons. 
“I need you in me. I need you to fuck me, I want to come on your cock-”
“Fuck.” He groans, and then his hips are snapping forward. Feeling the tight, warm squeeze as he buries himself in her, as she cries out at the intrusion. 
“Goddamn, sunshine.” He has to hold himself there for a moment, hilted inside her. Feeling the way she clenches down around him, fingers mirroring it where they wrap in his shirt. 
Almost sharing a breath as he inches out, only to press deep again. Again, and then again - until there’s the slick slap, the creak of the floorboards beneath his heavy boots as his feet spread wider. 
It’s better than his fingers. He’s deeper, filling her completely, stealing her breath. Those hands tugging at her hips, urging her to meet each thrust, as he picks up speed.
Hearing the changes in her pretty sounds - the gasps and the scrape of fingernails against his skin. Spearing her on his cock, where she can feel the worn and rough ridges gliding against a spot that has been sighing. 
But, he wants more. Wants her like before - splayed out. At his mercy, in a way that he knows she’d only do for him. Knowing that she trusts him - wondering if he would be worried that the thought makes his cock jerk inside her. 
“Give me your hands.” He rasps - and slowly, her finger uncurl from the edge of the counter, the vice-like grip on his shirt.
Hancock grasps at her wrists, joining them together with one of his own. Pushing her back, dragging them above her head and pressing them down hard against the countertop.
Arching over her as his eyes sweep over soft curves and bare skin. His coat spread out beneath her, the worn red so pretty next to her skin. Better than his best fantasy, and he’s already thinking about a next time. 
The choked out “oh!” she makes with the next rock of his hips shoots straight to his cock - knowing full-well she could break free if she wanted.
Instead, she lets him take. 
Giving up the control as he ruts into her, spearing his cock deep again and again. Trying to meet the messy swipe of his fingertips that drifted down to press against the bundle of nerves - her pleasure in his hands.
“Look good like this, sunshine.” His eyes drag over her breasts, still shining from his tongue.
“Real fuckin’ good.”
Down to where her thighs tighten around his hips, arching into him, “Should keep you like this all the time. Just in my coat. Wear it better than I do.”
A sharp edge to his voice, one that fuels the aching pressure that builds and builds. Her head thunks back against the laminate counter, eyes falling shut. 
The words starting slow, growing louder, then running together. 
“Feels so good-”
“Hancock don’t stop. Oh my god-”
There’s an electricity in the air that has nothing to do with the storm. His hand biting into her wrists so hard that it hurts, but the pain only loops into her mounting pleasure.
It’s different than his dalliances before. 
Before, it had filled his time. Finding someone to spend the night with a couple times a week, enjoying the shared company with another.
That frequency dwindling after they joined up, though he hadn’t been the type to stop. He just no longer had the time, that same desire. 
Finding that he no longer focused on chasing his own pleasure. His interest shifting - until there was only one face that drifts through his mind, in the stolen moments at night when his hand slipped beneath his trousers. 
Embracing the crave of a new kind of addiction, the urge hooking its claws into his brain. 
“Say my name again.” He tells her, feeling his own release winding and tightening. Trying to stave it off, as he tries to think about anything else, “Fuckin’ scream it for me.” 
Her eyes are on his when she says it.
“John.”
First soft, and then pitching up - louder.
And in the moment, he’s just John. The John before and the John now, man and ghoul and so focused on the circle of his fingers, on her cries.
It’s too much - all she can do is lean into it. Never realizing how much she’d like letting go for him, knowing that just like in the Wasteland, he had her. 
Always liking his quips and rasping tone but never experiencing it like this - honey-sweet and hungry. 
Learning so quickly what she likes - how quick he was to adjust the angle, the slick swirl of his fingers.
His name is on her lips again as he brings her over the brink. More like a prayer this time, her body stringing taut beneath him, eyes wide. Mouth rounding on a high gasp as the pleasure shudders through her, radiating up her spine and down her limbs.
Seeming to reach across from where they’re joined, that steady rhythm stuttering as she flutters tight and warm around him. 
“Fuck. Fuck, sunshine. You feel so fucking good, gonna make me come-” His teeth grit, a silent question.
Her answer coming in the way her thighs tighten around him. Keeping him pressed deep inside her, until his thrusts turn short and sloppy. 
“Oh, fuck yes.” His grin is closer to a snarl, “Thank you-” 
His fingers bite into her hip. Her name hissed through clenched teeth as the pressure builds, before spilling over.
As his hips rut until he’s pressed as deep as he can, a choked groan as he comes. His cock twitching with each throb of his orgasm, as he fills her. Emptying himself into her heat - until she’s milked him dry. Until he slows, leaving himself buried, deep and warm.
His eyes drop, as he comes back down. Where she’s watching, just as hungry as he was.
Leaving them staring at each other. His back arched over where his hand has slipped. Loosening on her wrist, until her fingers has twined with his. 
There’s no going back.
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His cock hangs heavy between his thighs. It’s night - dark now, but the flickering of lightning following the peals of thunder cast green shadows over her body. Eyes drifting up to where the rain patters on the metal roof.
A languid exhale, breathing out the smoke from the cigarette he fished out of the coat pocket. Dangling between two fingers, the cherry gleaming in the dim light. 
Then back down, to where she still rests - beautifully drowsy and limp-limbed. Thighs still parted, where she gleams with him.
He’s certain he’ll be dripping into those clothes of hers for days. 
It does something to him, an interested twitch from his cock. Stepping closer to fit himself back between those thighs, where they close to bracket his hips again. 
“Didn’t you say somethin’ ‘bout slow, later?” Hancock asks, his hand petting down a hip, thumb brushing against her skin. 
Stubbing the rest of his smoke out on the counter, letting it fall to the tile below. 
Her smile is sweet as she pushes herself up. No use leaving while the storm raged on - and she’s pretty sure the bedroll was well on its way to dry by now. 
Fingers catch on the collar of his ruffled shirt, starting to push it from his shoulders. His own hands tugging at her, until he pressed snug against her again. 
“Mm. Is it later, now?” She asks - as more of him is a bared - her hands running across rough skin. 
Hancock grins. 
“I sure as hell hope so.”
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I know this dropped out of nowhere for a 9 year old game but I can’t get the mayor out of my mind 💕 thanks for reading!!!
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NOT MY FIRST RODEO — COOPER HOWARD/THE GHOUL
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masterlist
pairing: cooper howard/the ghoul x reader, mentions of john hancock x reader hehe
description: the tension between you and cooper had been palpable for ages, and he was beginning to struggle to deny his attachment to you — despite his reluctance. he’s certain you’d never really be interested in him like that, until he finds out he’s not the first ghoul to enjoy your company.
warnings: swearing, jealous!coop, sexual references/implied smut, angst, making out, mentions of drug taking
author’s note: writers block was POOF! gone the minute i rewatched fallout last week & restarted fallout 4. hancock will always be my bf so i couldn’t help myself from mentioning him. let me know if u want a part two with actual smut! i only left it out because i don’t really usually write smut on this blog haha.
Cooper Howard and John Hancock were by no means what you’d call friends.
However, as much as it pained him to admit it, the former knew that the latter was — by the standards of many — a good man who’d do the right thing to help others when needed.
That was why, however begrudgingly, he’d suggested that you spend the last few hours of today’s daylight making the short trip to Goodneighbor to stay ‘for a while’.
It was clear that an intense few days, hunting a difficult son of a bitch of a bounty, had very much tested your limits.
He told himself that, given the amount of caps that said son of a bitch had earned you, you could afford a couple of days laying low in Goodneighbor before picking up another job.
Well there was that and the fact that much to his dismay, in the short time you’d been accompanying him on the road he’d found himself irritatingly attached to you.
When he’d first stumbled upon you while collecting a bounty you’d failed to deliver on yourself, you’d enthusiastically offered your companionship and he’d fervently denied it.
You knew he doubted you’d be any use based on your circumstances when you met, but despite your reassurances that it was just because he was the notorious fucking ghoul that everyone went on about and he had simply beaten you to it, he dismissed you with a “not a chance, sweetheart,” and went on his way.
But when he kept bumping into you in the following days, he’d given in and afforded you the luxury of helping him out on this one job — allowing himself the comfort of the excuse that if he really needed, he could trade you for caps and say goodbye to the pretty girl so oddly desperate to be at his side.
You’d driven him crazy at first — full of questions and curiosity, never refraining from voicing what was on your mind.
The way you watched him so carefully, all doe-eyed and attentive, had initially just pissed him off. But in the weeks that followed this had mellowed, and he’d found himself almost grateful to have someone so comfortable around him.
He’d never admit that though.
You’d just been much more skilled in combat than he had expected. That’s why he told himself he kept you around.
He totally just figured that it couldn’t hurt to have someone close by who can handle themselves and is willing to take just a tiny stake of a bounty (on your part, you figured there was no need to take more — he basically spent his share with you anyway).
You, on the other hand, didn’t want to admit that you had been lonely and desperate and missing the life you’d previously been so comfortable in when Cooper walked — well, stormed, into your life.
He might not ever have intended to (in fact — if he’d known, he’d probably never have let you get so close) but upon gradually letting you into his life he’d nestled his way into the empty little nook left behind in your heart.
“Why did you hesitate when I said Goodneighbor?”
Oh yeah, there was that.
When you’d left Goodneighbor all those months ago, you’d left with a broken heart and a head full of hazy memories of the happiness that the place had once brought you.
“I didn’t hesitate.”
“You sure as shit did, and even you know you’re a damn bad liar,” the Ghoul scoffed, pausing his pacing and turning to look you in the eye, “What does a pretty little thing like you know about Goodneighbor?”
You folded your arms over your chest, shaking your head at him as his steely eyes bore into yours, “Nothing. Just odd you’re suddenly so eager to go hide away somewhere when you’ve called me all sorts’a names any time I’ve asked for even a short rest break.”
“You’re full’a shit,” his hand flew instinctively to the shotgun at his hip before he released a deep sigh and relaxed it, “So I’m gonna ask you one more time. What do you know about Goodneighbor?”
You pondered for a moment whether or not to keep lying to him — he didn’t know much of your full past beyond the fact that you’d been a vault dweller a long time ago and been fighting for a living since.
You’d settled briefly in a number of places, though, and he’d heard too many stories about times you’d left settlements for various reasons to believe that you’d be too scared to return anywhere with him at your side.
Especially not somewhere like Goodneighbor.
“I—was living there for a while,” you shrugged, avoiding his gaze again now, “Didn’t like it.”
The Ghoul laughed humourlessly at that, “C’mon sweetheart, you’re going to have to do better than that.”
“I didn’t feel—look there’s just someone I don’t really want to see round there, okay?” your eyes didn’t leave the floor as he took a step closer to you, heavy breaths almost taunting further information from you.
“And who might that be?”
You looked up at him for just a second before eyeing the dust below your feet again, “I was, well, I lived there quite a while. I was—seeing, well, romantically— uh, there was—,”
“Spit it out, sunshine.”
Sunshine.
You’d not been called that since the day you left Goodneighbor the last time, and you cursed yourself for physically recoiling at the sound of it.
“Well I’ll be fuckin’ damned. You got a thing for ghouls, huh?” the wicked grin on his face set your stomach alight with a combination of emotions, “Didn’t peg a pretty little thing like you as the type. That why you spent so long beggin’ me to take you with me? Little vaultie princess desperate for another ghoul to defile her?”
You were crimson red now.
You didn’t know how to react, startled by the fact that he knew who you meant based upon your reaction to the term.
Hancock had always been charismatic and flirtatious though — it was no wonder Cooper had heard him use the phrase before.
You were almost angry, immensely embarrassed and yet, at the same time, a little aroused by even his insinuation that he knew that you wanted him in that way.
You’d found him attractive almost immediately and yeah, maybe he was right and you did seem to have a thing for ghouls.
But you sure as hell weren’t going to let him stand there and make you feel embarrassed right now.
“That’s not it, it’s not some kind of—like—,”
“Hancock got bored of ya and you latched onto the next irradiated motherfucker you came across?” he spat, “Bet you regret it now you know that I sure as shit ain’t nothin’ like your precious old mayor.”
Somewhere in the harshness of his tone you were sure you could detect a hint of jealousy at the root of his mocking.
You sighed defeatedly, “I wasn’t looking for some kind of fucking replacement when I met you, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I just— you just— well— Whatever, it’s hardly like you’ve made any suggestion you’d want me if I made a move on you anyway.”
His eyes seemed impossibly dark now, narrowed on you as his finger reached up to tilt your chin upwards towards him, “Is that right, sweetheart?”
Your legs were like jelly beneath you, a jolt of lightning in your veins at his touch.
“Sure, you flirt with me, but you’re so damn up ‘n’ down sometimes that I don’t know if it means anything,” you shrugged, skin tingling as his fingers lingered beneath your chin, “If I was lookin’ to replace John, it would’ve taken more than you being a ghoul for that.”
If he still had eyebrows, they’d have been raised now, his eyes rolling, “Right, nobody comes close to Mr. Righteous Mayor.”
His breath fanned over your face, his eyes returning to stare into yours as if looking for a reaction he knew you wouldn’t want to give him.
But you were all riled up now — so he was going to get one.
“What, is this a pity party? You want me to tell you he’s not all that? That I’m better off now I’ve found you? Oh Coop… I want you, I need you, you’re better than him. Only ghoul for me,” you mocked, pressing your hand to your forehead in feigned fawning before snapping back to seriousness, as he watched you frustratedly.
“Like I said, you weren’t a replacement. I wanted company and somewhere along the way I’ve been fuckin’ stupid enough to like your company more than I should,” you huffed, “You don’t have to pretend you want more than this flirty-but-I-hate-you-a-little arrangement ‘cos you’re jealous knowing I’ve had much, much more than that with someone else— and another ghoul at that.”
A growl left his throat at your words, his hand meeting your waist and pushing you forward so that your back was pressed against the wall.
“You’re playin’ a dangerous game here, sweetheart,” he warned, “And it’s one you won’t win.”
Your head fell back in frustration and met the wall with a small thud as his other hand pressed firmly against the wall beside it.
“You think I feel inadequate or something?” he snarled, and for a moment you weren’t sure if the question was rhetorical.
“How the fuck should I know? It’s hardly like you let me know how you’re feeling ever,” you sighed, your mind growing increasingly cloudy at your close proximity and his hand still on your waist, “That’s all I meant about John. It’s nice to know someone wants you… Hell, it’s even nice to be told when they don’t no more just as long as you’re being told.”
He was baring his teeth in a snarl still, but his lips began curling back up into a smirk, “You think I don’t want ya? Think I haven’t thought about it when you’re at my side like a fuckin’ dog on a leash looking at me all doe eyed an’ fuckable?”
Your cheeks couldn’t have been more flushed, and you knew he could feel the way your thighs clenched together at his words.
“Then why haven’t you done anything about it?” your response was a breathy whisper, the hairs on your neck pricking up and your heart thumping hard against your ribcage.
“Oh that’s a whole can of worms you don’t want opened, sweetheart,” he licked his lips, “Sweet little thing like you shouldn’t be with someone like me. But looks like I ain’t gotta worry about that, huh? Hancock’s already spoiled ya.”
You broke his intense gaze for a moment, eyes finding the floor as your teeth grazed your lips shyly at the weight of his words.
You couldn’t help the feeling that swelled in your chest at the lingering jealousy, and hearing him talk about wanting you as badly as you’d wanted him all this time gave you the confidence to push it.
“Oh he spoiled me good, you’re right,” you shrugged antagonistically, trying to quell the pain that still sat in your chest — albeit pain that took up much less space now that you’d found Cooper.
He scoffed, “That’s fightin’ talk for someone who don’t wanna see him again, darlin’.”
“Yeah well, he made me the happiest I’d been in the Wasteland since I left the vault and then tossed me aside ‘cause he got it in his head that I didn’t actually wanna be with him, like I must’ve been using him for his power and couldn’t really love him ‘cause he’s a fuckin’ ghoul — as if I didn’t know that when we met,” you grunted, “That’s all the fuckin’ chems for ya.”
Cooper leaned in closer to you now, “Well he’s a fuckin’ bigger idiot than I already thought he was, giving up you when he had ya all to himself like that.”
“Figure he doesn’t care. Might as well be married to Goodneighbor anyway.”
There was silence between you for a moment, nothing but heaved breaths and heavy eye contact as you pieced together what to do next.
You watched Cooper’s eyes flicker down to your lips for a moment, and could almost see the conflict behind them as he battled the urge to kiss you.
“I don’t wanna see him, but I don’t still want him, if that’s what’s stopping you,” you gulped, “In case it’s not loud and clear, I want you. Just didn’t wanna see him without any confirmation you aren’t gonna rock up there and declare me as some kinda fuckin’ pet and humiliate me even more than he did.”
“Enough talk about him,” Cooper growled, one hand pulling your face to his by the jaw, “If he don’t realise what he’s missin’, I definitely fuckin’ do.”
Finally, he kissed you.
Your hands flew around his neck, lips meeting his with equal fiery passion and pure need.
His one hand still remained cupping your jaw, whilst the other explored the waistband of your trousers earnestly, thumbing at your hipbone.
Finally, after all of these weeks of pining and sexual tension, Cooper Howard was giving you exactly what you needed — and all thoughts of John Hancock melted away.
You found yourself pulling him as close as physically possible, allowing him to press you against the wall as he stole your breath with the intensity of the kiss.
“Mightn’t be your first rodeo, sugar,” his lips pressed just behind your ear as he spoke, “But I’m sure as shit gonna make it feel like it is.”
———
eeeee please lmk if you’d like a part two with smut. or just a part two where they eventually go to goodneighbor. please feel free to request more coop or some hancock, and be warned there are more coop x hancock’s gf/ex!reader fics in the drafts because i can’t stop myself!!!!
in the meantime — here’s my masterlist.
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Opportunities 2
A part 2 of one of my requests a while ago.
Summary: After listening to you and Hancock fuck in the room beside his, Cooper takes your care into his own hands and puts his little daydream into reality.
Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader
Warnings. Smut. Rough sex. Cooper isn't very nice. He was jelly. Rope play. Lil sneak peek at the end.
Masterlist
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Cooper doesn't see you until the next evening when you come loping down the stairwell with,who must be, John trailing behind you. The other ghoul is handsome for their standards, and Coop already feels a mild dislike for the man. You are talking animatedly, hands gesturing this way and that, and John is all ears, listening to the smoothskin with a tiny grin on his withered lips.
Jealousy immediately surrounds him, and Cooper gnashes his teeth when you pass him by without a word, not even noticing the bounty hunter sat near the entrance. You only had eyes for the other ghoul, and Coop was not a fan.
He watches the two of you for a while, noticing the way the Mayor of Goodneighbor keeps you close to his side, one hand usually pressed to the small of your back as you laugh at some joke he spits. Cooper glares at the Ghoul dressed in red. He needed to get you away from the other man.
Cooper stands up and lopes to the bar, ordering a beer, and it's only then that you notice your traveling companion.
"Oh, Coop! This is John, I've been telling him about our adventures, " you say excitedly, and Coop grunts, gold gaze intentionally uninterested. It stings when he watches the excitement fade, and your lips turn down in a soft frown, but he isn't very happy with you at the moment.
He catches your eyes, mouth pulled into a sneer, "That's not what I heard last night."
You look at him in shock, and Coop feels even more like a dick, but it's not like he can take the words back. The mayor narrows his black eyes, and the hand on your waist tightens.
"Woah now, no need for that. We're all friends here," John drawls and gets a withering glare in return. He's about to pop off with something else when the smoothskin speaks up.
"It's okay, John. Cooper and I should probably talk anyway."
You had thought a lot about what happened last night and realized that if Cooper didn't want you like you wanted him, then you would apologize for the constant jabbering you had put him through. John gives your waist a gentle squeeze as you stand up.
"Alright, Sunshine. Don't leave me hangin'."
You grace Hancock with a kind smile and then slip out of your stool. Cooper leaves his beer behind as he follows you back up the stairs of the Third Rail and over to Hotel Rexford. Once inside the bounty hunter's room, you wring your hands in front of you as you stand before him.
"I'm sorry for bothering you so much about the - uhum- sex stuff. I won't do it anymore."
Cooper watches you, face impassive as you apologize, even though it should be him instead. He says nothing, and you stare at him with growing nerves and wonder why he wasn't saying anything. You laugh, the sound high pitched and wrong.
"Anyway~ I just wanted to say sorry, so I'll leave you alone now. We, uhm, we don't even have to travel together anymore if you don't wanna."
The ghoul finally reacts, and it's not in the way you expect. Cooper grabs you by the arm and spins you around, turning you towards the bed and shoving your face first against the mattress. He slots himself behind you, kicking your legs open and leaning over you to snarl in your ear.
"I don't want your fuckin' apologies, girl," He spits, tone dripping in jealous arousal, "I want you to scream my name like you did his last night."
Your breath comes in quick pants, and you angle your face up to peek at Cooper. The ghoul looks furious with arousal, and you can feel the hard length of his cock pressed between against the cheeks of your ass. A bolt of pleasure zings up your spine, but you can't help the sting of resentment.
"You only want to fuck me cause you over heard John and I the other night. Why the change?" You demand, but Cooper doesn't answer you. Instead, the bounty hunter has grabbed both of your wrists, pulling them up to sit in the middle of your back as he ties them together with a length of rope pulled from his belt.
Cooper isn't about to admit to his jealousy the other night and instead tightens the rope around your wrists, hips pressing into the thickness of your thighs and ass.
"You want me to fuck you or not, sweet thing?" He demands and slips a hand between your legs, pads of his fingers rubbing harshly against your clothed clit. You hiss, and dig your face into the mattress even as your body falls open for the ghoul as if it was made for him.
"Consent is important, sweetheart," Cooper snarls and flicks the button of your jeans open. His cock aches in his pants, and he wants to see you stuffed full of his cum. He wants to hear you say his name like that you had John's last night.
"Please fuck me, Coop," you plead, broken as easily as a two hundred year old light bulb. You've wanted your traveling companion for too long to be stubborn about it. You wiggle your hips to try and get your pants off quicker, desperate for him.
Cooper laughs and curls his fingers under the waistband, then jerks them down to bunch up around your boots. He pulls his belt open and hisses when his cock meets the humid air of the hotel room. He strokes his dick, squeezing at the base as he smooths up. Cooper leans forward and rubs the head of his cocks across your wet folds, and you push back.
"I should make you wait. Make you beg for it after goin' to someone else like you did," Cooper snarls hotly, and presses forward, just enough to split you.
"What was his cock like, sweetheart? I can promise mine will be fuckin' better."
Your eyes roll up and back into your head when the ghoul suddenly slams home. You huff and puff, hands flexing and wrist chaffing from the rope around your wrist. His pace is brutal, and his length drags along the fluttering walls of your pussy.
Cooper snarls behind you, hands digging into the meat of your hips as he pulls you back into his thrusts. You are tight, vice like and fucking perfect. The sounds the two of you make are sloppy, and your cheek heat up at the thought of someone else over hearing the two of you.
Behind the door, Hancock listens to the other ghoul fuck you until he has you howling his name, the sounds of sex loud and obscene as Cooper fills you up and keeps going until he's hard again, teeth bared as you whine and slobber into the sheet. John finds himself envious, but he isn't sure who of.
The major leaves with a smirk and a pep in his step. There would be other opportunities to speak with the bounty hunter.
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yawnderu · 17 days
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>Commission for the lovely @slava-the-stalker! Thank you so much for supporting me with comms for my surgery. TTwTT 💗💗
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John stared deep into the mirror, his visage scrunched up in a mix of discomfort and insecurity upon seeing his own reflection. What used to be a normal human face is nothing like the... thing staring back at him, his own hands coming up to caress the rough, scarred skin. While he's glad the bastard who failed all those ghouls is no longer recognizable, part of him feels a growing pit of anxiety boiling up in his stomach, threatening to explode at any moment now, the sound of your gentle humming coming from the bedroom calming him down even if only for a second. 
With one last look of disdain at his own face, he makes his way out of the bathroom, his chest lightly puffed out in fake confidence, not wanting you to sense the inner turmoil in his head. The pure devotion in your eyes makes him hesitate, yet he pushes himself to be closer, lying down next to your body, one of his cold hands running up and down the crevice of your waist. 
“Took you long enough.” The pure mirth in your eyes makes the corners of his lips tilt up into a smile despite himself, fighting the urge to recoil back the moment your hand meets his cheek, the warmth spreading all over his cold skin, bringing a sense of comfort amidst the chaos in his head. 
“Looking this good ain't easy.” That fake confidence will be his demise one day, he knows it, yet the sweet laugh leaving your lips is enough to push the thought to the back of his mind, his eyes closing at the sensation of your thumb caressing his skin with nothing short of worship. He can feel you inching closer, not doing a damn thing to stop you as your lips crash against his, moving at an almost agonizingly slow pace, your breath hot against his face. 
His hand drifts lower and lower as your kiss becomes more heated, cold fingers curling around your supple ass, squeezing it harshly as he pulls you closer to him, all the blood rushing down to his cock the moment your tongue enters his parted lips, wrapping around him without any trace of disgust. Your free hand comes down to his groin, teasingly tracing the outline of his hardening cock with your index before fully cupping it, feeling the vibrations of a groan leaving his lips against your own. 
You can feel him harden beneath your palm, your fingers curling around the outline of his cock as your warm tongue meets his, battling for a dominance that he instantly surrenders, the feeling of his hands groping your ass harder dragging a moan out of your lips, only breaking away from the kiss to lean your forehead against his. 
“I have been having slightly more impure thoughts than usual.” He confesses, his voice barely a whisper as a hint of hesitation dances in his dark eyes. 
“Maybe it's time we... act on those.” His nervous chuckle doesn't go ignored, only making the tenderness in your eyes grow at the slight display of nervousness written all over his face. You've heard his thoughts about your relationship— about how he thinks you don't want to wake up to his mug every morning, and how he would never wish that on anyone he cared for; yet for you, John Hancock is a work of art. Every single intricate pattern on his skin, the way he carries himself, the strong sense of responsibility and morality towards his cause, and the sheer kindness seeping through his entire soul, clear in his very own actions. 
The only response he gets is a soft peck on the lips, your gentle eyes meeting his, serving as a soothing balm for the insecurities that run deep within. He allows his body to relax despite the way his muscles are threatening to tense at the sensation of your fingers unbuttoning his pants, his hand instinctively reaching out to hold yours the moment your fingers touch his zipper. 
“You don't... have to.” He reassures, not wanting you to feel forced to look at his disfigured, ghoul body. 
“I want to.” Your tone is even and firm, your intentions clear as day, yet he only moves his hand away after seeing the way your pupils dilate when looking up at him. John has been alone for what feels like an eternity, the idea of being intimate with someone he loves being such a foreign and mildly scary concept even for the bravest of men. 
He forces his body to relax, laying down on his back as you undo his zipper, a sharp hiss leaving his thin lips the moment your warm hands pull his hard cock out, blown pupils fully admiring every single detail; the thick, darker veins running over his length, to the dark pink bulbous tip, glistening with precum that seems to leak like a broken faucet. A deep groan leaves his lips as your fingers curl around his thick length, moving up and down at such an agonizingly slow pace that he's close to throwing his pride away and begging. 
His lips part, half-lidded eyes staring up at the ceiling as his jaw clenches, feeling the mattress sink with the weight of your knees, parting his legs just enough for your body to fit between them. Your tongue darts out, licking a tantalizing stripe over his sensitive tip, running over his thin slit, the taste of salty precum overwhelming your senses, mixing in with your slimy saliva. His hand goes to the back of your head, cold fingers caressing your scalp rather than pushing you closer, his grip tightening momentarily the moment your warm tongue runs up and down the thickest vein on his shaft. 
“Please, love...” He's not even sure why he's pleading, yet surrendering all control to the person he loves the most brings out an exhilarating feeling he never knew was possible without drugs. You obey, slowly pushing his throbbing cock deeper into your mouth, relaxing your throat just to take him deeper without triggering your gag reflex. The tears dotting your eyelashes only make you look even more charming to him, lightly bucking his hips so you can finish taking all of him, your nose against his trimmed pubic hair, the feeling of his soft, heavy balls against your chin only makes it more enticing, sucking in your cheeks as you start to bob your head up and down, taking in the feeling of his cock sliding down your throat. 
His grip tightens on your hair, inhibitions thrown out the window as he stars to guide your movements, his eyes darkening at the way every single inch of his cock disappears into your needy, willing throat, squelching sounds mixing in with his deep groans, his head thrown back, the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down fully on display for your curious eyes. Your hands squeeze his thighs once you're unable to get air anymore and he immediately helps you pull away, gently wiping the trail of saliva going down the corners of your lips, using the chance to cup your cheek and stare down at you with nothing but pure, undying love. 
“I'd like to try something new tonight.” His face tilts to the side slightly, curiosity clear in his expression, resting his heavy body on his elbows as his dark eyes focus on the way you seductively strip of your clothes, layer after layer coming off to reveal the soft, untainted flesh, so unlike his own— so pure and clean. 
His gaze follows your movements, instinctively fitting his body on top of yours the moment you lay down on your back, one hand supporting his weight, and the other one drifting down your plush thigh, roaming up and down as if it's the first time he feels something so tender, forever enamored with the way your body feels against his no matter how many times you make love. 
His fingers drift down to your sopping cunt, swiftly running over your erect clit for a second before he's back to gathering your slick on his fingers, teasing your entrance before going up, rubbing circles over your clit, the way your back arches and your tits jiggle slightly simply makes his cock throb, lowering his hand to grip it, rubbing himself up and down a few times before guiding his thick tip to your entrance, starting to push in. Your hand on his bicep forces him to halt his movements, shooting you a curious, worried look. 
“Not... not that hole.” It only takes a second for your words to register, amusement clear in his face, yet a speck of doubt manages to always crawl its way into his brain. Do you truly want a bastard like him to defile you? Your legs parting to give him more space, not a single hint of hesitation in the way you move, presenting yourself to him.
Perhaps it's about time John allows himself to be selfish— to take what's being offered to him. His grip tightens on his cock, rubbing the tip up and down your sopping pussy, gathering as much slick as he can around the tip, knowing you're going to be a tight fit. 
“Say the word if y'want me to stop.” Your little nod is all he needs, relaxing your lower body as he applies pressure against your tight, puckered hole, feeling it give in and wrap tightly around the tip of his cock, a small groan leaving his lips at the sensation. He sinks into you slowly and carefully, a loud sigh escaping him the moment he managed to bottom out, yet his eyes never once leave your face, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and caress the tender skin with his thumb, giving you as much time as you need to get used to the foreign sensation. 
“You can move now.” The sweetness of your words makes his lips curl up into a sincere smile, his hips rocking into you slowly, feeling your tight hole grip him like a vice, the warmth surrounding him is almost enough to make him cum, yet he focuses solely on your pleasure, his thin lips coming down to kiss your neck, licking a tantalizing stripe over the sensitive skin just to feel your body shudder at the sensation, your hands coming up to caress his back, pulling his body so close that your heat is spreading all over, touching his very own soul. 
“I love this...” His tongue applies more pressure to your neck as you drag out your words, taking full advantage of the sensitive nerves just to feel your throat vibrating against hips lips with each sweet moan that comes out of your lips, daring to fuck into you deeper and harder now that you're used to his size. 
“I love you.” His hips falter for a second, unable to hide the surprise dancing in his slightly widened eyes at your confession, yet the look of love and trust written all over your face drags away any disbelief he felt, his soul freed even if only for a moment as your face finds shelter on the crook of his neck the moment his thrusts speed up, fucking into your tight ass at an almost unlawful pace, wanting you to feel every single inch of his hard cock, of his love. 
A loud groan escapes his lips the moment he feels your teeth bite into his shoulder, likely trying to muffle your crescendo moans, the stinging sensation making his cock throb, slamming himself as deep as he can into your puckered hole, his body weight keeping you pressed down as ropes of thick, hot cum shoot deep into you, painting your tight walls white. His heavy body rests on top of yours, too exhausted to move out of the way yet, the sensation of being lightly crushed oddly pleasant. 
“I love you too. More than anything, more than anyone...” He whispers into your ear, slowly pulling out of you, his dark eyes taking a few seconds to admire his work of art— your gaping hole leaking with his hot, white cum, a thin layer of sweat covering your exhausted, fucked-out body. He lays down next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist just to bring you closer, planting a gentle kiss on top of your forehead. 
His eyes drift down to the red teeth marks on his shoulder, letting out a small chuckle at the idea of having a future bruise as a reminder of your night together.
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everydayyoulovemeless · 6 months
Note
if you’re currently taking requests, may i please request some nsfw headcanons for hancock 👀👀
NSFW Hancock HCs
➼ Word Count » 0.4k ➼ Warnings » Knife Play, Bondage, MDNI ➼ Genre » NSFW, Romantic
Hancock is 100% a switch and is down to do whatever with whoever. My man ain't picky.
He likes to take things a bit slower at the very start of the relationship so that he can get a feel for what the boundaries and feelings are, but he'll quickly begin to speed it up once he's found 'em.
He loves running his knife across your bare skin. There’s something so mesmerizing about watching the sharp tip glide gently over your cheek. It gives him such a power trip and he loves the look of submission glaze over your eyes.
On the flip side, however, he loves it when you wrap your fingers around his throat and throw him onto the nearest surface. He adores it when you grab him and pin him down roughly.
He immediately gets horny whenever you get a good shot at someone. Something about the confidence and the violent nature of it all never fails to get him to grab your hands and pull you tightly against him.
He loves seeing you in his clothes. Something about seeing his coat draped over your shoulders makes him want to leave kisses over your entire body.
Hancock has a thing for blindfolding you and gently tracing his calloused fingers over every scar and blemish you could possibly have. He loves being able to focus all of his attention on these areas, and he especially likes seeing you squirm at the sensation.
His eyes are always filled with an almost obsessively adoring way whenever you're even slightly in control.
Sometimes when your fucking he'll lick your cheek.
Hickies are a must with him. He'll cover you in them, he doesn't care. If you were to ever give some to him, though, he'd be the happiest ghoul in Goodneighbor.
He loves cradling your face in his hands and making out with you, especially after the more dangerous quests.
His favorite position has got to be doggy style. There's something about tying your hands behind your back and pounding into you mercilessly that makes him feel so animalistic.
The one thing he'll never do is include any drugs with sex. He's heard way too many stories of people getting hurt because of mishaps like that and always makes sure you're both sober before initiating anything.
Aftercare with him doesn't entail very much. He prefers just laying there with you in his arms as you two share a blunt and talk. He always looks forward to the vulnerability of this moment and couldn't ever ask for anything more.
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thesightstoshowyou · 11 days
Text
Don’t Overthink It
John Hancock (Fallout 4) x F Reader (NSFW)
Summary: Hancock invites you back to his place for a drink and some fun.
Warnings: Implied that reader is a sex worker, talk of drug use, sexual tension and silly flirting, Hancock is a cunning linguist and a gentleman, some goofy moments, some sweet moments, mild exhibitionism, multiple orgasms.
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Rain drips from the torn awning of the Hotel Rexford when you emerge. The streets of Goodneighbor glisten from the recent storm, the neon sign above giving the surrounding space an eerie red glow. Little streams of rainwater flow in the gutters to rinse away the refuse littering the street.
Your heels click on cracked concrete as you sidestep a puddle. The bag slung over your shoulder rattles with newly obtained caps when you adjust your dress. You’re set for the week now with what you made tonight.
A cool breeze rushes over your skin and a shiver skitters up your spine. You hadn’t thought to bring a coat; it had been much warmer earlier in the evening. Shaking out your hair, you sigh and steel yourself for the walk home. Your feet are already killing you.
Across the street, two Triggermen send shy glances in your direction. You wink and waggle your fingers, a coy wave. One quickly turns away while the other offers a tentative greeting. Quietly, you chuckle, amused by how quickly even gangsters can turn into teenage boys.
In the distance, a familiar, gruff voice calls your name. A smile stretches across your face. “Aw, if it isn’t my favorite ghoul,” you greet as Hancock strolls down the lane toward you. “Hi there, Mr. Mayor.”
“Favorite, huh?” he replies, sidling up next to you and slipping an arm around your waist. You’re grateful for his body heat, a respite from the chill, but his clothes are damp, like he’d been waltzing carefree through the storm. The caustic scent of ozone typical of a ghoul hangs heavy around him, made more obvious by the rain. Hancock’s head tips back and lolls to the side a little, telling you he’s sailing on chems.
Your fingers hook into the collar of his jacket and you reach up to adjust his hat before it takes a tumble. “Mmm hmm. You’re at the top of my list,” you purr, a grin pulling at the corners of your mouth.
A drop of chilly water drips from his hat onto your cheek and you flinch and laugh, only to squeal and attempt to wriggle away when Hancock shakes his head to shower you. “You’re all wet!” you chastise, playfully smacking him in the arm.
“Heh, not wet enough,” he murmurs, raising rad-scarred brows.
“Is that an innuendo, Mayor?”
“Could be. You working, babe?” he questions, shamelessly allowing his dark gaze to rove over your body.
“I was. Just finished.” A pleased hum rumbles in his throat at your response.
“Where you headed?” His other hand joins its twin around your waist and he pulls you flush against him. He’s handsy today, always is when he’s flying, but you don’t mind. Hancock has never laid a finger on you that you didn’t want.
“Depends on who’s asking,” you quip. As you speak, your pointer finger smooths down a divot in his neck. You feel his chest lift against your palm, a quick intake of breath at the contact.
“Your favorite ghoul’s asking, sweetheart.”
“I don’t really know what it is he’s asking though.” You bite the inside of your cheek to keep your giggle contained. Hancock narrows his eyes in what would be a menacing gesture if not for the dopey grin plastered on his face.
“He’s asking you to come have a drink with him.” You hum in feigned enlightenment.
“Sure, I’m up for that. The Third Rail?” you ask, half-turning to make your way down the street. Hancock tugs you back against him and shakes his head.
“Nah. My place.”
You quirk an eyebrow. The Old State House? That’s new.
“Just what are you hinting at, Mayor?” you tease, a scandalized look crossing your face.
“Getting real tired of your questions, doll,” Hancock jokes. He clears his throat and leans in closer, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath ghosting across your lips. “I ain’t hinting anything, baby. I’m asking if you wanna come back to my place, get drunk, and fuck.”
“Oh,” you squeak, all playfulness leaving your expression as your cheeks heat up. You weren’t expecting something so straightforward, though you suppose Hancock is never one to beat around the bush. The chems have emboldened him, you guess. Though, does he mean—
“And just to be clear,” he continues like he can read your mind. One of his hands raises to cup your face so a rough thumb can stroke your cheek, “I ain’t talking about a business arrangement. I wanna fuck you cuz I like you.”
The air suddenly feels much warmer than it had a moment ago. You wonder if this is just some impulsive, chem-induced fancy. Perhaps he happened upon you and decided, in the moment, he wanted some company for the evening. Hancock is an instinct driven guy, after all. Or is this something that has been on his mind for some time?
And…does it matter?
You like Hancock. He’s charming, funny, and a hero to the people here in Goodneighbor. Going home with him sounds like a much better way to spend your evening compared what you had planned. It seems like a no-brainer, so why are you hesitating?
“You’re thinking too hard, doll.” You huff a laugh when Hancock brushes a damp strand of your hair out of your face.
“You caught me off guard,” you tell him honestly.
“I could sober up a little and take you on a date first, if you’d rather do it that way,” he comments with a shrug. You can’t suppress the surprised sound his words bring. He’s serious about this.
All at once, that constricted feeling in your chest evaporates and you give his jacket a little tug. “Maybe next time. I’d love to join you for a drink, Mr. Mayor.” The overjoyed expression that takes over his face makes your heart flutter like bird wings.
“Right this way, love.”
**
The two of you don’t even make through the door.
The drag of his gnarled lips against yours raises goosebumps along your skin. He holds your face and backs you up against the doorway to his room. The tricorn hat topples off his head and lands somewhere behind him, forgotten. Your fingers tighten around the ruffles of his shirt and a breathy moan slips from your mouth when he sucks on your bottom lip.
“You smell so fucking good,” he rasps as his lips move to your neck. One hand tangles in your hair while the other slips past your waist and over your hip. Hancock palms a handful of your ass, grunting when you brush your thigh between his legs. Teeth on your pulse make you gasp and arch against him.
Suddenly, he drops to his knees. Already breathless, you watch as he scoops up one of your feet to peel your heel off and toss it over his shoulder. “Bet that feels better, huh?” he rumbles, grinning up at you as he slips off your other shoe. You’re so endeared by the thoughtful gesture you can’t help but laugh as you nod.
Hancock winks and turns his attention to your legs. Rough hands catch on your stockings when he smooths his palms over your calves. Inching higher, he pushes the hem of your skirt up to your hips, but stops short to groan at the sight of your garter belt.
“You’re killing me, babe,” he purrs. He plants a kiss to the welt of your stocking, then trails his lips higher. He only pauses to quickly yank your panties down and off. Hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, he dives right in, the flat of his tongue laving through your folds and over your clit. You suck in air through your teeth and your head falls back against the door with a muted thud.
Hancock moans, open-mouthed against your cunt like a starving man digging into his first meal in days. The vibration of his husky voice combined with enthusiastic way he wiggles his head and nurses on your clit has you all but humping his face in minutes. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you mewl and bow forward, pleasure coiling tight in your belly.
“You’re gonna make me cum,” you whine as you tense, toes curling. Hancock responds by sucking harder and grabbing your ass with both hands to pull you closer. A high-pitched, breathy, “Fuck,” escapes you as your eyes roll back, the coil unwinding and sending rolling waves of heat cascading through you.
“Give me another one, baby,” he orders before resuming his ministrations. This time, he slips two fingers into your fluttering cunt and curls them, rubbing circles until you see stars.
“S-s-shit! Han—
You can’t finish, a cry overtaking your vocal cords when you cum again. Your hips twitch as pleasure surges through your belly, up your back, and down your thighs. “Ohhhh my god,” you groan, sighing contentedly when you slump back against the door.
“That’s my good fucking girl,” Hancock praises, wiping his mouth on the back of his arm. You taste yourself when he jumps to his feet and crushes his lips to yours in a heated kiss. Giggling and near drunk on pleasure, you push his jacket off his shoulders before moving to work open his pants.
A strained sound sticks in his throat when your fingers trace the hot flesh of his cock. You hum and nibble on his lip as he hastily shimmies out of his pants. They get caught on his boots, but he doesn’t seem to care as he lifts you clean off the ground. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.
“Mind if I ruin that pretty pussy?” Hancock questions against your lips, the corners of his own curling up in a smirk.
“Don’t make me wait anymore,” you whisper, bucking to grind against his length. Hancock wastes no time in angling his hips and easing his girth into your slick channel. The stretch is mind-numbing, the texture of his cock flawlessly stimulating every single trigger within you.
“Fuckin’ perfect,” he slurs. His mouth falls open and you both moan in unison when he ruts into you. The door bangs against the wall when he does it again. He pins you there to keep it open before starting up a feverish rhythm, and soon the room fills with repetitive slaps and wanton sighs.
Your lips find the gnarled flesh of his neck and whimper against it, every thrust driving more and more pathetic sounds from your throat. Hancock groans deep in his chest and shakes his head. Fingers grip your hair to pull your face out of the crook of his neck.
“Not loud enough. Nobody down on the street is gonna hear how sweet you sound at this rate.”
You snort and meet his half-lidded gaze. “Isn’t it your job to make me scream though?”
A throaty chuckle greets your words, then, “That a challenge?” Even though it’s phrased like a question, you know he isn’t asking. Clumsily, he kicks off the pants pooled around his ankles and nearly drops you, which sends you both into a fit of laughter.
“Hang tight, we’ll get there,” he jokes as you carries you into his room and collapses onto a sofa. Your tittering is cut off when his lips find yours again. He rolls you into your back, tosses your legs over his shoulders, and gives one harsh thrust that forces a noisy keen up and out of you.
“That’s more like it,” he growls. His hands grip your hips to hold you in place so he can hammer you into the cushions. It’s not difficult to give him the screaming he wants.
A third climax blindsides you. You writhe and shake, seized by euphoria and Hancock’s embrace. He utters a pinched, “Fuck, fuck, fuck-“ before leaning back to rip his cock from your cunt. Through your daze, you barely register the wet clicking of his hand as he pumps his orgasm, warm and sticky, all over your belly.
Heavily, Hancock sighs and drops his forehead to your sternum to catch his breath. The heaving of his chest mirrors your own. You smooth your hands down his nape and gently rake your nails back up again, content to just bask in the afterglow.
Gradually, Hancock works his way over to your side so you can rest your head on his shoulder. He’s quiet for a long while and you open your mouth to tease him about it until he suddenly says, “I’ve been thinking for a long time about doing exactly what we just did.”
Curious and surprised, you lift your head to look into his black eyes. A little grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Really?” you ask. He nods, his fingers tracing up and down your arm. “How long?”
“Remember when you kissed me at the New Year’s party?” You blink in shock and chuff out an incredulous laugh.
“I almost forgot about that. That was, like—
“Eight months ago,” he finishes for you. Baffled, you stare at him and wonder why your heart is beating so fast.
“Why did you wait so long?” you question finally, a bewildered smile on your face.
“Dunno. Overthinking it, maybe. You seemed happy doing your own thing. I didn’t wanna fuck that up.” His chest rises and falls with a deep breath before he continues, “But then I saw you standing there tonight and I just…. You looked so beautiful with the rain and the light and…you know, the chems.” You giggle which makes him grin wider. “Just felt like it was the right moment, you know?”
You smile softly while Hancock groans and drags a hand down his face. “Sorry, doll, I guess that last hit turned me into a fuckin’ sap.”
“It’s sweet,” you murmur.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you whisper with a nod. Gently, he strokes your cheek and pulls you in for another kiss. Your lips part to allow his tongue to swirl against yours while your palm smooths across his chest.
Suddenly, he breaks the kiss with a, “Fuck, I’m hard again.” You bark out a laugh and Hancock moves to sit up. “I should probably get that drink I promised.” You grab his arm to stop him.
“I don’t need it.” Your teeth tease your bottom lip. A wolfish smirk greets your words.
“Then I’m all yours, love.”
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dez78 · 1 month
Text
A night of passion
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As requested by @ghoulspirits
Hope I captured the moment! Enjoy!
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Fandom: Fallout 4
Pairings: Hancock x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Smut (18+)
Additional Tags: Smut with plot, romantic Hancock, Public sex, massage leads to sexy time.
Summary: You and Hancock finally find time to have a break and things get heated quick.
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(Not my Gif)
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You and Hancock headed into the Third Rail. The last few days have been hell, you have been retrieving caches and dead drops for the Railroad. You needed a break from the constant fighting, you yearned to just sit and have a beer.
"Hey Chuck, two beers." Hancock said as he leaned on the bar,
"Coming right up, mayor!" Charlie replied as he went over to the old, rusted out fridge.
You went to sit on the stool, but Hancock caught your wrist. You looked up at him with a perplexed expression on your weathered features.
"No, no, sweetheart. You and me got a reserved section in the VIP." Hancock said to you in a sensual tone. You quirked your eyebrow and smirked at him.
"Is that so?" You asked with a snarky tone and a mischievous glint in your eye.
"Hm mhm." Hancock hummed in response, he grabbed the two beers and whisked you away to the shadows of the VIP lounge, tucked away from the prying eyes.
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Upon entering, Hancock handed you one of the beers. You took it and popped it open with your pipboy. You plopped down on the old, worn couch. The springs protested under yours and Hancock's weight.
The ghoul flipped his feet up, resting them on the ottoman, taking a swig of his beer. You sipped your own, relaxing finally. Your muscles were tense.
You felt all the pressure in your joints as you rolled your shoulders with a low groan and a furrowed brow.
"You alright, sweetheart?" Hancock questioned, looking over at you.
"Just sore from all that damn fighting and walking." You whined, rolling your neck.
"Well, I ain't no expert, but I can try to help." Hancock offered, you didn't respond verbally, only nodding your head.
Hancock sat up, he put his beer on the floor. You unzipped your vault suit, revealing your skin to your partner. Hancock bit back the moan as he saw your skin for the thousandth time. It didn't matter how many times he saw you; you still stole his breath.
His rough hand trailed down your smooth back, unclasping your bra with only two fingers. You sighed a long breath as you felt the freedom. Hancock watched his fingers mapping your skin and the details of it.
Then he gripped your shoulders, you groaned low, throwing your head back.
His palms and thumbs massaged in the right places. You felt the popping of your joints and the release of your muscle tensity. You were lost in the sensation that Hancock's voice sounded yards away.
When you came to, Hancock was laughing.
"Now come on, sunshine. You keep making those noises, I'll have to cut this short." He said as he growled low, his breath on your neck. You bit your lip; your cheeks were flushed a bright pink.
"Would that be such a horrible thing?" You questioned innocently.
"I would certainly take you up on that offer." Hancock replied, still massaging your neck and shoulders. You turned then, catching Hancock's breath. He bit his lip as his coal eyes were fixed on yours.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous." He said stunned, admiring every detail of your face in the dim light. You were surprised, the first thing he didn't look at were your breasts, instead he fawned over your face, your eyes, your lips.
You smiled to yourself; he had his charm, but sometimes he was about more than sex. Only for you. You weren't an object or a one-night stand that meant nothing. You were his equal, his partner, you were his and he was yours.
Hancock cupped your jaw, you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. He hummed with contentment. He pulled you in and captured your lips in a tender kiss. He ran his other hand up your body, feeling every inch of your stomach before finally cupping one of your breasts in his large hand.
He gave you a gentle squeeze, you moaned into his mouth and that was his invitation. He dipped his tongue into your mouth. You let him in with no hesitation, your lips danced with each other in a smooth rhythm.
------------------------------------------
It wasn't long before things got hot and heavy, Hancock had torn off your vault suit and his own clothes. He held you up by your waist as he laid on top of you, leaving a trail of love bites across your neck and breasts. His fingers were graceful as he smoothed up your back.
He drove powerful thrusts into you, you were glistening with beads of sweat and were a mess of sound. It was music to Hancock's ears.
"That's right, baby girl. Let them know who you belong to." He rasped through thrusts. You cried out, arching your back. Hancock kept you steadied as your body convulsed for the fourth time that night.
Hancock leaned down, kissing your jawline as he slowed to an even pace. Giving you time to recover. He kissed your neck tenderly as he pushed into you slowly.
"You like that, sweetheart?" Hancock purred into your ear; you nodded slowly enjoying the feeling of him filling you up with his immensity.
"You're such a good girl for taking it all." Hancock praised you, you shuddered with delight as his voice rumbled against your sensitive skin. He kissed your lips with a tenderness he only had for you.
You usually liked it the way he gave it, but sometimes you wanted slow, and he provided and proved to be an excellent lover in both times. It all depended on you. He respected your feelings. He never did anything you were against. He always made sure you were okay and if you liked what he was doing. If not, then he'd stop.
He was never rough unless you wanted it. You loved that about him, he gave you options and freedom with your love life.
"You ready, love? Or do you want this some more?" Hancock asked you, kissing your neck gently.
"I want it rough." You growled, Hancock got that mischievous glint in his eye and gave you a devilish grin.
He sat up.
"Spread your legs for me, baby." He commanded, you opened your legs for him, and he devoured you. You threw your head back, screaming in bliss. Your thighs quivered. He was hitting your sweet spot. Your hair was falling over your face, wet from sweat.
Beads trickled down the curve of your breast, your lips were swollen, your body glistened, and your eyes sparkled. You were beautiful. It sent Hancock over the edge. You arched your back, contracting around your lover. Your whole body shook.
"Fuck." Hancock breathed with a hoarse laugh. You laid there for a moment, catching your breath. Hancock smiled, drawing circles on your stomach.
"Enjoy, sweetheart?" He smirked; your eyes were half lidded as you looked at him.
"What do you think?" You quipped with a tired smile. Hancock didn't say anything, just gave you his own genuine smile. You loved how he wore it. It suited him. You were the only one to ever see his true smile. He faked it for others, but he put all his trust in you.
You felt lucky to know him, the true him. Not the show ghoul that he put on for everyone else. The facade. You grabbed his face and pulled him on top of you. He rolled his tongue at you,
"Round two already?" He teased; you shook your head.
"No, just kiss me." You told him, he looked a bit surprised, but didn't protest to the request. He leaned down. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his lips against yours.
The kiss was sweet, not heavy and hot like it was moments ago. This one was tender, gentle, and full of love. Hancock poured his all his feelings into his kisses. This time was no different.
The two of you pulled away for only, but a moment. In that time, your eyes met. You saw the sincerity in Hancock's expression.
"I love you, sunshine." He said, brushing strands of hair from your sticky forehead, you smiled up at him.
"I love you too, John." You replied lovingly. Hancock's smile was bright, he loved his name on your lips, it was a beautiful sound, even more beautiful than your moans, he admitted.
He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours again, savoring the kiss. Savoring the moment. It was perfect, you were perfect.
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gogogodzilla · 7 months
Text
day 19, 69ing
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john hancock x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, drug use, sex while high, teasing, dirty talk, fingering, hancock calls reader sunshine kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3
To Hancock, getting high was second nature. He was always popping one chem or another on your travels. You didn’t mind. Whatever he had to do to get through the day.
You ventured through the gritty streets of Goodneighbor, looking for your friend. You had a surprise for him, after all. The raucous sounds of the Third Rail on a Saturday night graced your ears, and you found yourself being pulled there. 
You nodded to the security guard and descended the steps. Smooth jazz and the low murmur of voices greeted you as you entered the bar. A grin fought itself onto your features as you spotted, through the cigarette smoke and lively conversations of the patrons, your favorite Mayor seated at the bar, talking to Whitechapel Charlie. 
You sidled up next to him, leaning on the bar, nodding to Charlie as you sat. “Room for one more?” 
“Look who decided to finally show up,” Hancock drawled, pushing his tricorn hat back to let his eyes rake over your form.
“The super mutants trying to kill me didn’t seem to care that I had a date tonight,” you retorted, chuckling a little at your joke. 
You and Hancock weren’t exactly together, but you couldn’t deny that you felt strongly toward him. The lingering glances and semi-sexual remarks while you were traveling were enough of an indication that Hancock liked you too. 
The usual grin on his face widened at your reply. He rubbed his chin, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Date, huh?” 
You leaned into his space, emboldened by his gaze on yours. “Yeah, although it’s a little crowded in here,” you titled your head, glancing around the room and its various patrons. 
“Why don’t you and me get outta here, sunshine?” Hancock suggested as he slid from his stool and offered you an arm. 
You stood and took his arm, “Thought you’d never ask, mayor.” 
You were giddy as you made the short walk to the Old State House. While on your adventures out in the Commonwealth, you’d found a bottle of Day Tripper. It was popular back in your day for those attempting to escape the troubles of their everyday life, and you didn’t think that Hancock had ever tried it before. 
Fahrenheit nodded to both of you as you entered the old building from her usual place at the bottom of the spiral staircase. Her gaze danced between the two of you for a moment before Hancock led you up the stairs. 
You sauntered toward one of the couches in the middle of the room, and Hancock shut the double doors to his room behind him. Your heart rate picked up at the telltale sound of the lock clicking. You took your seat and patted the cushion next to you. 
He sat next to you, eyes dancing across your features. “There’s another reason why I was late,” you mentioned as he reclined and threw an arm over the couch. 
He hummed, turning his head to look at you. You rifled through your bag before your hands wrapped around the blue-green bottle. You pulled it out and handed it to him. 
He took it from you and raised an eyebrow as he read the label. It was white and covered with flowers. From what you’d heard about the effects, you assumed that the label was supposed to reflect how you felt while you were on it. 
“Where’d you find this?” 
“West Roxbury Station, out by University Point. I wasn’t lying about the super mutants trying to kill me,” you laughed, giving him a half-shrug. 
His mouth curved into a smile, “You’re somethin’ else, sunshine.” 
You inched closer toward him, your heart fluttering in your chest. “I thought we could try it together,” you divulged, biting the inside of your cheek. 
His grin grew wider, “Didn’t take you for the partying type.” 
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you replied, coyly. 
Hancock kept his eyes on yours as he undid the orange top of the bottle and shook out two small pills into one of his hands. 
He picked up one pill, “Open up, sunshine,” he ordered, smirking. 
Your breathing hitched before you opened your mouth for him, allowing your tongue to stick out over your bottom lip. Hancock held out the pill for you pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. You met his gaze as you leaned forward and you wrapped your lips around his fingers. His thumb escaped your lips to cradle your chin and his pointer finger stayed trapped within the wet confines of your mouth. 
You were a little surprised at the boldness of your actions, but the thought was quickly replaced by much more obscene ones as you swallowed around Hancock’s finger and a soft growl escaped him. 
He retracted his hand and popped the remaining pill into his mouth. He reclined against the red cushions of the couch, waiting for the effects to kick in. Slowly, the world around you began to transform. Color intensified and became more vivid, time seemed to slow, and the air around you hummed with energy. 
Hancock chuckled as you looked around the room, “Welcome to my world. Ain’t it a trip?” 
A laugh bubbled in your throat, and your eyes met for just a moment. Warmness spread throughout your body like the heat from the good whiskey Charlie served on special occasions. Hancock’s eyes were half-closed and the corners of his mouth were turned up in a lazy grin. 
You watched as he slowly sat up and tugged off his coat, also feeling the warmth that felt like it was humming under your skin. His shirt shone like a beacon in the light of the nearby lantern in your drug-induced vision. It was like your limbs were moving on their own as they reached out and stroked the fabric on his bicep. 
His breathing hitched in his throat as your fingers trailed up and over his shoulder to the bare skin of his neck. Something inside you ignited as soon as your fingertips dragged over the column of his throat, and it felt like your entire being was being drawn toward him. 
You crawled toward him, settling yourself on his lap as you cradled his face in your hands. He chuckled as he gripped your thighs, keeping you still. 
“I… need to touch you,” you murmured as you leaned forward and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. It wasn’t enough. 
You moved your face upward, eyebrows furrowed. “Need to taste you,” you practically begged as your lips ghosted against his. 
He leaned forward, and your lips collided. Your movements were clumsy, the drug making your muscles uncooperative. Your senses were heightened, and you could taste a hint of the liquor Hancock had earlier on his tongue. You groaned against his lips, which were rough and marred against your own. You wondered if other parts of him tasted this good. 
You pulled away and a small string of saliva connected the two of you. You moved to press sloppy kisses along the column of his throat, letting your tongue drag over the skin there. Hancock’s hands wandered over your body, squeezing and kneading wherever you could. He probably would’ve ripped your vault suit off of you if his limbs were working properly. 
“Wanna taste you, sunshine,” he rasped out as he grabbed your hips and ground them against his hardened length. You whined at the sensation as arousal coursed through your veins. 
“Lay back,” you ordered, shoving his shoulder lightly. Hancock followed your orders as you stood on shaky legs. You slowly peeled off your vault suit, thankful for the zipper, and Hancock palmed himself as he watched you through lidded eyes. 
You tugged your underwear down and kicked them to the side. You were practically drooling at the sight of Hancock before you. His shirt was open, exposing his scarred chest to you. He had unbuttoned his pants and freed his cock from its confines. He slowly stroked himself as you neared. 
In your drug-induced haze, an idea struck you. You straddled Hancock’s face so you could easily lean down and take his cock in your mouth. You could both taste each other that way. 
His hands moved to grip your thighs as you hovered over him. His breath fanned against your core and you shuddered, rocking your hips slightly. 
“All for me,” Hancock breathed against you, a hint of astonishment in his voice. 
You nodded as you reached down and began to slowly stroke him. “Only for you,” you slurred, tongue heavy in your mouth. You were already drunk on the feeling of him. 
Your grip around his cock tightened as he took you in his mouth. Your thighs squeezed around him as he devoured you, swiping his tongue through your folds before moving to circle your clit. 
He bucked his hips, reminding you that you had a job to do. You pumped your hand slowly before swiping your thumb over the tip of his cock, gathering the precum dripping from there. 
Hancock groaned against your core as you stroked him, sending vibrations through your body. You rutted your hips against his face, chasing your high. 
Hancock dipped his tongue into your entrance, and you leaned forward, moaning. You swirled your tongue around his red-hued tip, and your eyes practically rolled in the back of your head from the taste of him. 
Hancock’s grip tightened on your thighs as he brought you even closer. Moans escaped him as you slowly bobbed your head and clenched around nothing. 
You hollowed your cheeks around him, taking him even deeper than before. Your movements became sloppy as you neared the precipice. Hancock’s mouth wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced before, and coupled with the finger he slid inside you, your release was rapidly approaching. 
He quickly added another finger and pumped them inside you while he sucked on your clit. You moaned around his cock before relaxing your jaw to take all of him. 
Hancock’s tongue circled your clit once and then twice, and then you were coming undone above him. Pleasure wracked through your entire body in waves, and your thighs began to shake. Hancock continued his efforts, allowing you to ride out your high. 
He tensed under you before coming with a strangled groan. You pulled away and watched as white tendrils coated your hand. You continued to stroke him until pleasure veered into overstimulation and he tapped your thigh. 
You slowly slid off of him, both coming down from the high of your orgasm and the high from the drug. You giggled a little as you took his sash and cleaned him off. You didn’t expect your plan to work this well. 
“I’m glad we did that,” you whispered as you lay on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. 
Hancock chuckled, “I should party with you more often.”
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finniestoncrane · 3 days
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please please consider: knifeplay with Hancock
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Hancock x GN!Reader, word count: 800 anon you have tapped into my desire for violence and reminded me of that moment i first fell in love with this rotten little bean ☢️ request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: threats, knives, knife play, cnc elements, he talks a big game but this softie would never hurt you
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"Quit it!"
You knocked the inhaler out of Hancock's hands, turning from him as he watched it tumble to the floor in dismay.
"Hey! Watch it, princess."
"You watch it, Mr Mayor. That's mine, not yours."
He furrowed his brow, deep, black eyes narrowing with it.
"You're awfully bold around me."
"Yeah... why wouldn't I be?"
Hancock was suddenly hit by the realisation that he'd spent so long around you, opening up to you, loving you that you no longer saw him as the threat he felt he was. Did anyone, anymore? He'd set aside his mayoral duties, and he'd been so busy helping you in this settlement that neither of you had done anything particularly bloodthirsty as of late. Maybe he was going soft. But he was damned if he was going to let you walk all over him.
"Because... I'm a very dangerous guy."
The sincerity in his voice made you snort, a short, mean spirited laugh that you immediately regretted as you turned to him and saw the disappointment in his face.
"Sorry, Hancock... but it's hard to see that now. It's not a bad thing! You're sweet, and kind, and you've got a strong moral compass. But you're undeniably quite a gentle guy."
"Are you nuts? You didn't see me in my heyday, but I ran Good Neighbour with an iron fist. No one stepped out of line, and no one stepped out of line."
Standing in front of him, you reached for the sleeve of his red coat, tugging at it playfully, flirtatiously, as you offered up your counterpoint.
"Yeah... but you were also benevolent, welcomed anyone, and made it a safe place for people who didn't have one. And I imagine a lot of those people respected you, fell for your charms like I did. That's probably why they cause any upset. They just didn't want to disappoint you."
You had turned from him again, hoping to end the silly argument by returning to the shelves you were stocking with supplies. Hancock's mouth was open in shock, and he wetted his lips before he calmed himself, speaking his rebuttal slowly, softly.
"I think you're forgetting how we met."
The memory flitted across your mind. That man, his name forgotten completely, stopped from killing you by Hancock. Quick with his decisions, quicker with a knife. In all fairness, he had you there. It was quite a display he had put on.
Turning to him, you were caught by surprise by his presence right there in front of you, having silently crept up behind you while you were deep in thought. In his hand he held his knife, the same knife you had just been fondly remembering, and had you moved an inch or two closer to him, the point would have been imbedded into your body.
"Hancock, I-"
"Step back to the wall, I think we need to go over a few things."
You did as you were told, immediately recognising the playful glint in his eyes. But there was something deeper, something that pushed aside your knowledge of his softer demeanour and tried to warn you to stay on your toes. The excitement of it made you squirm.
"Now... I might be soft with you, but don't ever let that lull you into a false sense of security..."
Hancock's fingers twitched around the handle of the blade as he brought it to your shoulders, scratching the skin, digging in enough for you to feel it, but not enough to mark you or to draw blood. No, this was just a threat. A generous first strike.
"I could bury this knife up to the hilt, 'cause I know that's how you like it."
A tight coil formed in your stomach, body tingling in anticipation, a twisted desire for him to plunge the blade in, to penetrate your body with it.
"I'll take what I want from you, princess. Chems, caps, your body. I'll fuck every hole you have, wear them out, until I have to make new ones. Understand?"
You nodded, biting your inner cheek, suppressing a moan as your clit throbbed.
"Good! Glad to know you understand."
His grin was still pressed onto his scarred lips as he plunged the knife into the wall beside your head, a quick, sharp, loud gesture that made you jump.
"Oh, you're not off the hook yet, angel."
He was smiling, back to his usual self, that softness returning slowly to his face before a sharp glimmer of cruelty passed over him once more, stopping you from moving away from the wall.
"It's just that I need both hands for what I'm going to do next."
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dorkofclanlavellan · 21 days
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Sweet Doesn't Mean Naive (Fallout Characters)
Fandom: Fallout 4 Scenario: The characters meeting and falling for a reader who is very sweet and helpful and accepting. Initially they may think the reader is naive because of their nature but soon learn differently. Pairings: Cait x Reader, Danse x Reader, Hancock x Reader, MacCready x Reader, Nick x Reader + Copper Howard x Reader.
Notes: Zero uses of Y/N or Sole. I may do a part 2 for the other characters later, these are just the ones that I'm super inspired for rn. [Also this is based on me never being able to select rude options in video games unless I genuinely hate the character lol]
Trigger Warning: These may be slightly OOC as I'm still familiarizing myself with the characters (more so the FO4 characters than Coop)
Cait:
Cait initially underestimates you, thinking you're too sweet and accepting to survive in the Wasteland. However, she's surprised when she discovers your savvy side, handling dangerous situations with intelligence and composure.
Your kindness and willingness to help others win her heart, and she admires your ability to adapt and thrive in challenging circumstances.
Cait falls for you deeply, realizing that your sweetness is not a weakness but a strength.
Danse:
Danse is initially cautious around you, expecting you to be naive due to your sweet and accepting demeanor. However, he's pleasantly surprised when he witnesses your quick thinking and resourcefulness during a perilous situation.
Your kindness and helpfulness earn his respect, and he admires your ability to handle yourself in tough situations.
Danse develops feelings for you, impressed by your combination of kindness and savvy decision-making skills.
Hancock:
Hancock is amused by your sweetness and helpfulness, initially thinking you might be a bit naive about the dangers of the Commonwealth. However, he's pleasantly surprised when you prove to be street smart and savvy in various situations.
Your accepting nature and open-mindedness capture his interest, and he admires your ability to see the good in people while still being aware of the harsh realities of the world.
Hancock develops strong feelings for you, fascinated by your unique blend of kindness and savvy insight.
MacCready:
MacCready is cautious around you at first, assuming you're naive because of your sweet and accepting personality. However, he quickly realizes that you're more savvy than you appear when you show exceptional skill in handling dangerous situations.
Your helpfulness and compassion make a lasting impression on him, and he admires your ability to adapt and survive in tough circumstances.
MacCready falls for you, drawn to your kindness and impressed by your hidden savvy nature.
Nick Valentine:
Nick initially sees you as naive, given your sweet and accepting demeanor. However, he's amazed when you display a keen understanding of complex situations and handle them with grace and intelligence.
He finds your kindness and empathy touching, and he admires your ability to see through people's facades while still maintaining your positive outlook.
Nick develops strong feelings for you, intrigued by your combination of sweetness and savvy awareness of the world around you.
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Cooper:
When you first met, Coop was fairly dismissive of you. He thought you were just going to get yourself killed fairly soon. Your generous nature was a sign of naïveté in his eyes. So he wanted as little to do with you as possible.
Then you gave him a months supply of vials for free. And he decided to stick with you. Deciding the best repayment was to protect you from the dangers of the Wasteland and yourself.
That's when he learned just how much he'd underestimated you. You were kind and always willing to help absolutely anyone but you were not one that could taken advantage of.
And that's what really impressed him. The more of your acumen that Cooper saw, the more he grew to care about you. Including your altruistic nature.
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ohhyperbola · 3 months
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i truly and geniuenly hate drawing hancock's hat and i'm in awe whenever someone draws it. maybe one day i'll learn how to draw it. anyways, a small doodle, hancock x reader or something idk i was a bit too lazy to draw eugene so we going with anon. going to sleep now, it's really late
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eupheme · 9 days
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— a good, good neighbor
john hancock x f!sole survivor/reader
rated e - 2.8k
tags: friends-with-benefits vibes, mutual yearning & jealousy, mention of chem usage, references to threesome, horny!desperate!hancock, desk/office sex, semi-public sex, piv, blowjobs
prompts: “i want to fuck you so badly” + “i'm simply enjoying the view. it's not every day i get to fuck someone so pretty.”
“How did you imagine us?”
“Every way,” Hancock husks, “Keeping my cock warm while I work. Eating you on the desk or bending you over it.”
“Hell, I’ve even thought about the balcony. I’d take you right over the fuckin’ railing if you’d let me.”
(Or - when you come back from a mission, Hancock can’t wait to get his hands on you)
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Despite the bustle inside the Third Rail, it’s all just dull noise.
Hancock can’t say he’s heard a word Fahrenheit has said. It’s not his fault she had cornered him inside the entrance, right as he was on his way in.
Where he has a perfect view of the bar.
A perfect view of you, where you perch on one of the stools in front of Charlie. Looking like a dream, in your soft, faded clothes.
Not that he doesn’t like your vault suit. The way it fits like a glove around your hips and thighs, the swell of your tits.
He’s always been a fan.
But there’s something about this - how you look like you belong here, with him. It’s been a while since he’s felt his heart stir, but you really seemed to have woken it up.
His partner huffs, finally stepping to the side. Her own plans tonight, eyes already drifting over to the stage. A long-suffering sigh - a hand that pushes her undercut back, a scrunch of her nose.
“Remind me to let you two… debrief next time, before I talk to you.”
Hancock grins, only now coming back, “You got it, sister.”
He owes her one. Tomorrow he’ll sit down and really listen, but it’s been a long fuckin’ week and the chems he downed in his office are just now taking effect.
Tipping him towards being too high to be jealous that you’re talking to another ghoul - a sentiment that he’s only just becoming acquainted with.
That was never really his style, before now.
And just a tad too sober to suggest Deegan just join them, if your conversation doesn’t wrap up soon.
Really fuckin’ soon.
It’s as he sidles up to you that he notices just how good you truly look. Scrubbed clean from the wasteland, and he’s already imagining you in the Rexford, hands sliding over your wet curves in the shower.
Getting ready to come here, applying that pretty shade of red that darkens your lips - a treasure found on a recent favor you did for Daisy.
Something that had kept you away for days, his jaw gritting as you had left without him.
It’s the same shade as his coat - and that does something, too. A clenching in his guts, a wash of need as he imagines it marking up his cock. A pretty ring around the base, staining his skin.
Christ, he needed to get it together.
Your eyes brighten when you see him, “I was hoping you’d find me. Heard you were still working.”
He fits against you, leaning on the bar. A hand draping across your shoulder - eager to touch, as your head tips up to his.
“Never too busy for my favorite girl.”
The smile you give him, those pretty painted lips stretched wide, shoots straight to his cock. Uncomfortable, where it strains against the front of his trousers - and maybe, he just might be head-over-heels.
He needs to get out of here.
“You want to get out of here?” He asks - the back of your neck warm where his palm curves around it, thumb brushing over soft skin.
Feeling the low hum in your throat, as you answer.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
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“I want to fuck you so badly.”
Hancock growls it in your ear, as he wrenches the door to the Old State House open. Bypassing your room at the Rexford, opting for something closer.
He always seemed to like you in his bed. Late nights turning into slow mornings, getting acquainted with the soft drag of fingers against skin. Comparing scars until you’ve learned each and every one.
You think he’d keep you there, if he could. If you both weren’t so prone to wandering.
The rough admission sends your pulse racing. Never expecting to miss someone like you did him. Never thinking you’d get a chance like this again.
But something about being with Hancock feels so easy. Something invisible that ties you to him, but that tether is never-ending. Both of you always finding your way back to each other, in a slow orbit.
Never knowing what it truly meant to know that someone had your back - until you were looking down the barrel of something you weren’t supposed to come back from, out in the wasteland.
Knowing he would be there, as soon as you called.
“Then fuck me,” You sigh against him, at the landing of the second-floor staircase. The railing pressing into your back as his tongue licks into your mouth.
Hands fisting in the collar of his frock as his hips roll against yours. Getting turned around in path back to his room.
Ending up across the hall, in his new office. The door still cracked open as you both stumble inside. A soft sound of surprise when you find yourself bumping up against a heavy wooden desk, instead of the couches you’ve come to know so well.
He’s already herding you to the other side, moving his chair out of the way. Hoisting you onto the edge, before stepping between spread thighs.
Mouthing at your jaw, hands slipping beneath your shirt.
“Wrong room,” You sigh, as your arms wrap around his shoulders.
“Right fuckin’ room.” His hips meet yours, rolling himself against your core, “Know how many times I’ve dreamed about having you in here?”
The thought of him thinking of you has your thighs tightening around his hips. A needy moan when his hand fondles a breast over the fabric of your bra, before it’s slipping beneath.
“How-” You start, and then squeak as his fingers pinch against the tight peak of your nipple, “How did you imagine us?”
His black eyes are hazy when he pulls back. A shine on his lips from where his tongue soothed a mark left against your neck.
“Every way,” Hancock husks, “Keeping my cock warm while I work. Eating you on the desk, or bending you over it.”
You whine at the thought - a jolt of pleasure arcing through you as his hips jerk against yours, grinding against your clothed core.
“Hell, I’ve even thought about the balcony. I’d take you right over the fuckin’ railing if you’d let me.”
God, it’s tempting. Heat flaring to life in your cheeks at the thought - knowing he would.
He’s opened the doors to a lot of new aspects of yourself, but there’s still a shred of your old-world modesty that clings to you.
But it still sends a liquid warmth pooling in your belly. He can feel the way your hands tighten their grip that you’re picturing it too.
The balcony is out of the question, but the rest…
Your palms push at his shoulders, and he allows you just enough room to get down. To flip around until your hips are flush with the edge of the wide desk.
“Why don’t you show me?” You coo, with a glance over your shoulder, “Mister Mayor.”
There’s a flash of teeth with his smile - words as sweet and smooth as honey, “Sweetheart, call me that again and I’ll show you anything you want.”
His hand is quick to press at the small of your back, bending you across his desk like he had imagined. Your hand slipping down to work at the button and zipper of your pants, where he’s already gripping at the fabric to tug your layers down.
Hancock’s hips press into your bare center. Nudging the hard, clothed curve of his cock against yours, fingers already smoothing over your skin. Gripping on before nails drag over the curve of your ass, then slipping between your thighs.
You stifle a moan when he touches you, all slick and swollen already. A day-long lingering anticipation of seeing him, keyed up by his own laid-bare desire.
“You miss me, doll?” Hancock husks, when he finds how wet you are. The tips teasing your clit as he frees himself.
Fingers petting at your folds. Slicking them up until he can smear your arousal against his cock - the rough skin shining in the windows of light that peek in from the city outside.
“Yes,” You whine - he always seems to pull things from you, when he has you like this. Making you soft, willing to lay yourself open if it means he keeps touching you, “Hancock, please-”
The word strings out - as he grasps at your hips, tugging you back just as he drives himself deep into you. This is what you needed - the aching stretch, the way your blood sings already.
Squirming when he stays still, slipping half-way while his hands keep you pinned against the desk.
“Don’t slow down now,” You huff, as you rock back into his touch.
Hancock’s own laugh is low and throaty - you gasp when you feel his fingers slip from your hip. Boldly tracing where you stretch around him, letting his thumb rub at your clit until he can feel you clench.
“Just enjoying the view.” He husks, “It’s not every day I get to fuck someone so pretty.”
His words shoot straight through you, settling in your heart. So much understood and even more left unsaid.
You’re used to the before, when there were neat labels and expectations. Left on uneven footing now, with how the world has changed.
Maybe even scared to bare yourself fully - to let yourself feel so deeply for another person again.
But surely this - this partnership, his words, him - must mean something.
“It could be.”
It slips from you with a sigh, too late to snatch back. Something fluttering in your belly, a heady mix of apprehension and pleasure as he growls - a sharp thrust that has him filling you again.
A shift of his fingers until he’s circling your clit, with just the right pressure that he knows you need. A shallow roll of his hips that starts slow, and steady.
“That right?” His voice is low, lilting up at the end.
You couldn’t really ask him to join you - but tonight, you could pretend. The time you had spent together on the road was some of your best moments in this aftermath.
But you respected his decision to stay, to work a little harder at this Mayor business. Even if it had left you unsure of where you stood with each other.
Even if you did miss him, want him by your side.
“Yeah,” You manage, “Keeping touching me like that and, yeah-”
You can hear the smile in his voice as he answers, “Sunshine, you’re gonna have a harder time getting me to stop.”
He makes good on his promise.
A hand catching under your thigh, hoisting your knee onto the desk top. Opening you up further - a stifled cry pulling from you when he nudges deeper, stroking a spot inside you that steals your breath.
The door is still ajar - the thought of your whines and the slick drive of his cock has your heart pounding.
You’re sure he’d love that too - the shout of his name as he makes you come, echoing to where the drifters sleep above, and where the Watch lingers. The sound of his hips knocking yours into the desk, the rhythmic creak of old wood.
It still lingers as a whimper - bitten back as the pleasure builds. He hasn’t forgotten in the time you’ve been apart, pounding into you again and again. His touch circling just as he bottoms out, a pressure in his own belly with each gasp he pulls from you.
“Fuck, John.” You keen - a number already seeming to tick down inside you, with each circuit of his fingertips, “I’m gonna come-”
“That’s my girl,” He coos - keeping the same rhythm, the same steady pound that threatens to break you, “Give it to me. Soak my fuckin’ cock, sweetheart.”
His girl.
It echos - your cry going silent, when as the pleasure washes over you. Leaving you trembling as you ride out the waves of pleasure, meeting the thrusts that grow lazy.
You needed this, needed it as much as he does. So much packed noise inside your brain going quiet the harder he fucked you, now blissfully silent.
“Look at you,” It’s muted, as your back arches - as you drip around his cock, “You feel so fucking good, not gonna last-”
Almost as if he gets off to this - making you come. Taking you apart, until each breath is a wrung-out gasp, your fingers curling into fists.
It leaves you thinking that if he’s staying here - if he’s been thinking about you, you’ll give him something to remember.
Another check off of his list.
“Hancock,” You breathe - eyes heavy and dazed as you glance over your shoulder.
Where he’s arced over you - grinding himself deep. His own gaze blown-wide with need as it tips to meet yours.
“Come in my mouth,” You beg, “Let me taste you.”
Eyes flicking to his chair, still pulled up next to the desk. He’s always been able to follow you, a rough sound in his throat when the catches what you mean.
“Fuck.” His hips stutter, before he’s slipping from you, “Yeah. Yeah, doll. Anything you want.”
You’re sinking to unsteady knees in front of him, as he drops down into the chair. Knees spread wide as your hands run up his thighs, to where his cock hangs heavy against the unzipped fabric.
Already missing him inside you. A rough groan when your hand wraps around, before you’re swallowing him down. Tasting yourself smeared across him, as your cheeks hollow, your fist pumps.
“So fuckin’ perfect, you know that?” Hancock hisses, the words coming out ragged. Hips bucking into the wet suction of your mouth.
No teasing this time, no kitten-licks. Just the familiar weight of him on your tongue, the jerk of your spit-slicked fist.
A ragged sound slipping from him when your eyes drag up to meet his. Peeks of reddened and rough skin along the way that make you want to take a bite as well.
Noticing how he’s marked up with you - faded shades of red stained on his lips and chin. Littered across on his cock, down to the base.
You think you like the look of it, something warm flickering in your belly - an echo of the pleasure he gave you before.
Wanting him to think about you every time he sits here, after you leave. The feeling of your mouth around him, how hard you made him come. Leaving your own mark on this room, as well.
He groans at the way you watch, the soft lap of your tongue. How you squeeze him bringing him closer - waiting for him to show you how much he needs you.
“Fuck. You’re gonna make me come, gorgeous.” It’s a rough warning, as his hand cradles your jaw. The bite of nails against your neck, as his hips buck.
The groan he makes is loud and low - shameless - as he comes. His cock throbbing in your mouth, each pulse leaking his spend as you swallow him down. Coaxing every drop from him, until you’ve taken it.
Keeping him in your mouth, after - your tongue sweeping lazily across his skin, until he goes soft. Easing off him then, letting your head rest against his thigh.
Hancock’s head still tips back, lost in that soft haze. The shallow rise and fall of his chest, a week’s worth of want spilled across your tongue.
“Was that like you imagined?”
There’s the tilt of his head as he grins, his thumb reaching to press against your lower lip - a low growl when you nip at it.
“Even fuckin’ better.”
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The room shifts in front of you - Hancock’s boot propped against the desk, sending the chair back and forth on a slow sway.
Your legs thrown over the armrest, where you sit in his lap. The sounds of Goodneighbor muted outside, as the lights spill across the floor in the dark room.
“Thought I’d stick around a couple days.” You tell him, “Skip out later this week, maybe.”
“You just got in.” He rasps, fingers tracing a pattern against your shoulder, “Got somethin’ going already?”
You hadn’t planned on it. Had been hoping to stick around Goodneighbor for a while. Spend some time with him, before heading out.
But…
“Edward asked me to do a job for him,” You stifle a yawn, your head tilted against his, “Some girl he works for ran off, said she does that all the time.”
Duty always calls.
"Edward?" Hancock’s brow lifts.
“Deegan?”
His tongue clicks against his teeth, a soft pinch of his fingers against your skin, “Didn’t know you and Deegan were that chummy. Edward, huh?”
Your elbow sinks into his ribs, and he grins.
“Well, you don’t gotta wait on me,” He hums, already thinking ahead. “You wanna get this show on the road tomorrow?”
A small mark puckers your brow as you lean to face him, your gaze searching.
“I thought you stopped running.” It’s soft - a question, hidden in your words.
Hancock huffs, “Not running.”
His voice drops - a softness to his beetle-black eyes as he thumbs at your chin, drawing your mouth down to his.
“Just realized I’d rather be by your side.”
With his admission, the hungry press of his lips…
You think you fall just a little harder.
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loved the idea of a desperate/lovey Hancock paired with a sweetly oblivious “what are we” Sole, haha 💖 thanks for reading!! and for this perfect request!
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bisexualiteaa · 23 days
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would it be alright if you were to write a fluff(maybe smut?) hancock x reader who has adhd who's just overwhelmed with quests and doesn't know which one to do first? Lol please and thank you:)
Of the People, For the People
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John Hancock x ADHD!GN Reader (FLUFF!!)
CW: reader struggles with their ADHD, John thinks it’s cute, cursing, guilt, restlessness, slight OOC Hancock, slight suggestive themes towards the end, fluff, possible grammatical/spelling errors, briefly proof read
AN: as someone with ADHD this ask actually really hit home. It was half the reason why I could never start games like Fallout and Skyrim in the first place was because there are so many things you can do, the idea alone was overwhelming to me because I knew it’s start and never finish just about everything pushed my way. Then the TV series came o it and all that changed upon the simple acquirement of a hyperfixation on the ghoul and thus my love for fallout was born! 😂 I am still rather new to Fallout games, lore and such so please be gentle if I have gotten anything wrong, I’m still doing my best at learning everything I can to write these well and properly! But I hope I did your ask some justice with this Anon! Hope you all enjoy some more love for our Mayor Hancock. 🥰
Tag-list: @expirednukacola
“Ugh, there’s just too much to doooo” you whined as you plopped down onto his bed in the state house, exhausted and sore all over from setting up not one, not two, but three whole settlements in one day. Of course it wouldn’t be a day out in the commonwealth if you hadn’t run into monstrosities along the way or people along the way to other settlements who needed other things from you. For instance, there was someone who needed saved from thinking they were a synth and returned to their parents, other people who needed help getting their settlements started, people who needed you to kill some super mutants, people who needed you to eliminate some feral ghouls some place else, and after that you couldn’t even remember if you tried. Thank goodness for your Pip-Boy keeping track of these things or else you feared you’d never remember it all. There was just so much that others, especially Preston, were asking of you to do out here that it was beginning to become just a bit too overwhelming to take on all at once. You loved that you could be help for people, so unfortunately you never really paid your own wellbeing any mind until now that it was at such a detriment you could hardly even think straight, much less accurately hit a target or properly even speak to someone without sounding like intelligence was your dump stat. You wanted ever so badly to be that light for people who had seemed to lose hope because it’s what you would want others to do for you if you were in need. You lived and breathed by that golden rule taught to you so long ago. Come to think of it, the only person who you’d done everything for last that you could remember was Hancock, which was actually how you two ended up together.
“Being commander of the Minutemen will do that to ya, sunshine” Hancock teased, leaning against the door frame as he looked at you, tiredly splayed out on his bed in amusement, finding it funny that the commander of such a large militia could be so…well, you. Anyone else would likely be overwhelmed with power to the point of paranoia, or the opposite and let it go to their head and break them of the person they once were, but you were still yourself through everything. He admired the way you wanted to help people, the way you helped the poor and needy in the ways he wished the rich would do, but he could tell it was taking a clear toll on your wellbeing in doing so. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time you told someone no, or that you flat out just couldn’t help them because he could see that look in your eyes when someone asked you for help. He saw the sympathy, the pain, saw the way you felt so bad knowing that if you didn’t, they likely wouldn’t make it out in the harsh world of the commonwealth. His heart ached for you in that sense, because he remembers a time when he wanted to help everyone in his town that he could, any way he could, hell it was the whole reason he became the mayor of Goodneighbor in the first place. But just like you, he needed someone to make him realize that you can’t do everything, some things just have to play out and fix themselves on their own. “But I think you need to take a break from it for a day or two, give yourself a chance to recoup. You’re working’ yourself to death and I’m startin’ to get worried” he added, walking into the room to join you and he watched you sit up, looking completely defeated and worried at the idea of not helping others or running things for just a day, let alone two but also at the fact that now he was concerned for you. “But they need me, John. If I don’t help them…what would become of them? What kind of leader would I be to just leave them in shambles? I can’t live with the idea of lives lost because of me…” you said with a guilty tone, clearly torn between the idea of helping yourself or helping others, and the sweet innocence of your good natured personality made him smile softly as he closed the door behind him and sat down next to you on his bed.
“Even heros need a vacation, love. Helping people who won’t make it is wonderful, it’s one of the many things I love about you. But people can just as easily be hurt when they’re guided in the wrong direction because the person directing them isn’t taking care of themselves the way they need to. A good leader needs strength sure, but that strength depletes and needs replenished every now and again, and that’s okay” he said, grabbing your hand in his, squeezing it in the hopes to offer you some level of comfort to assure you his words meant no harm, he simply just wanted you to look out for yourself as much as you looked out for others around you. He knew it got through to you when he heard you exhale an audible deep breath you’d been holding in for so long. “I guess, I just…I don’t know. It feels extra difficult for me because I can never stay focused on just one thing. I get started on one project, then someone comes along and I get so side tracked trying to help them that I forget all about where I started! I probably have twenty of these damn missions at least half started before I dropped them for something else entirely. It’s so frustrating and overwhelming because then they all start to pile up, and then I don’t know where to start!” you explained, making him laugh. Who would have ever guessed his big, fearless commander of the Minutemen, partner was easily sidetracked by their ADHD. But he wouldn’t want you any other way. “Yet you completed everything I asked of you with no issue” he pointed out with a smug grin, making you blush at the realization that he noticed that. “Well…yeah. I did it because I liked you and wanted to get closer to you. I was fixated on it because I wanted it to better my chances of being with you, so to me it wasn’t work. It was just doing something that you, someone I care for, asked me to do, so I did it” you admitted bashfully, making him smile at the wholesome reason you gave him. “That’s so fucking cute” Hancock replied as he put his arm around you, pulling you into his side, making you blush even more before covering your face with your hands. “It’s cute until you realize I killed someone for you” you quipped with a grin once you’d moved your hands away to look at him, making him chuckle at your reply. “Made it even” he joked, referring to when Finn tried to haggle you when you first showed up to Goodneighbor. “Fair enough” you responded as you chuckled, but he could still tell that you hadn’t fully come around to the idea yet, something still had its hold on you but at least you started to open up to the idea.
“C’mon, let’s just take the next couple of days to relax. The settlements will be fine, they run pretty well on their own, I’m sure they can survive a day or two without you. Maybe Nick or Codsworth can run ship while you take the time to yourself” he said, making you lean your head against his shoulder as you contemplated it. “Poor Codsworth, I wouldn’t do that to him. He tended to my house for two hundred years despite the absolute state of decay it was in from the explosions, thinking the family would come back any day and it drove him nearly mad. I could only imagine what running settlements would do to him” you said, making him chuckle. “Okay then how ‘bout Nick? He’s traveled with you long enough, he’s a smart guy, I’m sure he could handle it. I’m sure he’d more than understand that you need some time to yourself to get back that good ol’ fighting spirit” he added. “You think so?” You asked skeptically, making him sling his arm around your waist to hold you close and help ease your nerves the best he could. It was times like these that you wished you had the confidence and aloof attitude Hancock had about just about everything. “I know so. Think about it, you set them up, taught them what they know, they already manage pretty well on their own, they got this! Just lay back and relax for a change!” he said, easing your nerves just a little bit more at the idea. For someone who never wanted a leader to be too comfortable, he really wanted you to be, it was strange yet heart warming to see how much he cared about you and wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself. So you finally gave in, maybe a couple of days to relax and do what you wanted to do didn’t sound bad after all. Maybe you could enjoy a couple of drinks one night, or hell, maybe enjoy just sleeping in a bed two nights in a row for a change, give your body a rest from sleeping on the cold hard ground in a sleeping bag. And not have to worry about all the things floating around in your mind that need done. That sounded like heaven to you once you convinced yourself with Hancock’s help that it could really be useful. “Okay, but if I do, I can’t just lay in bed all day. I literally can’t, I’ll go crazy” you said, making him laugh, knowing the way you can’t sit still for more than a few minutes at a time just on the regular while you’re on the go. “We don’t have to, these couple of days are for what you wanna do sunshine. Though I wouldn’t mind it of course if we spent all of it in bed, but staying in bed all day doesn’t necessarily mean *just* sleeping, ya know” he said, his voice slipping into that characteristic deep, gravelly suggestive tone with a mischievous grin painting his thin, irradiated lips as he pulled you into his side, making you laugh. “John!” You said, seemingly flabbergasted at his reply, but truthfully you hadn’t expected anything less from him. “Oh you know I love it when you yell my name, keep doin’ it sunshine” he said flirtatiously with that ever recognizable smirk painted across his face as he crawled on top of you on the bed, littering your face and neck with kisses through a shared fit of laughter. Maybe a little break wouldn’t be so bad after all.
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Text
Assumption
Just something short and sweet for Hancock.
Warnings! Drug use and withdrawls symptoms. Puking and the like. Reader comforts John. He's so in love. Hurt/comfort
Pairings! John Hancock x Reader
Masterlist
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You know something is wrong with John when he has to stop for the third time that day to upchuck what little he's eaten. You stand off to the side after the ghoul had made it known that he didn't want your help right now. He had snapped at you to shove off, and you had, even if your concern now battled with hurt.
You're still wracking your brain on what could even make a ghoul so sick when you suddenly recall that you can't remember the last time Hancock had stopped for a short chem break. It's been at least a few days, you think, and your concern blooms into worry.
"John," you say and step close to his side. He leans on you without thinking, and you easily take his willowy weight, "When was the last time you had any jet? Or even a mentat?"
John spits to the side and takes a deep breath as he fights through how badly his stomach is cramping and the raging headache that threatens to send him to the ground. The world spins, so he closes his black eyes again.
"Dunno. Couple days, at least," He coughs again and opens his eyes, forcing himself to meet your gaze with an uneasy smile, "Sorry if I got any on ya, Sunshine."
"So you are going through withdrawals," you say, and John tenses under your hand. You grab his face, tilting his chin down to meet your unhappy gaze, "Why?"
If Hancock could blush, he would even with how bad he feels. It still amazed him that someone who was so pure as you wanted anything to do with someone damaged like him. He wanted to be better for you. You were his everything, after all.
"I heard you talkin' with Nick the other day," Hancock admits, and his shoulder draw up, an embarrassed tilt to his voice, "I want to be around for as long as I can, baby. So I thought the best choice was to stop my habit."
You cast your mind back to the conversation he's referring to, and shake your head with a sigh.
"Baby. I wasn't talking about you. Nick and I were talking about Cait," you say and grip his jaw when he tries to look away from you. You lean up and kiss him, and Hancock feels his heart clench in his chest, "If chems were the thing that killed you, you'd already be dead."
Despite the grim, harsh words, they weirdly make John feel better. And it felt good to know that his lover and best friend hadn't been talking behind his back about his chem addiction. His shoulders slump, and his shaky hands come up to grip your waist tightly. Hancock can't understand how he'd gotten so lucky.
"Maybe I shouldn't have assumed, huh, Sunshine?" John rasps, and you roll your eyes at his embarrassed grin and kiss him again. The ghoul drops a hand to fish into his pocket and pulls out a tin of mentats. He pops two into his mouth and sighs in pleasure when the chalky tablets melt under his tongue.
You meet his gaze with a content smile, happy to see the almost instant relief in Hancock's black eyes. Then scowl up at him, "You shouldn't have. We're a team, John. Remember that."
Hancock smirks, pocketing the metal tin. He drops his hand back to your hips as everything comes into sharp focus. John digs his thumbs into your sides and dips to press his lips to your brow.
"Yeah. I'm sorry, love. No more secrets," He murmurs softly. That's a promise John can keep.
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nukaberries · 1 month
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Hi! Can I have the non-human companions' reaction to a male sole that is very protective of them? Like if they're at a bar and someone shouts "get out of here freak/bucket of bolts/etc" he's beating the crap out of them immediately and when he's done he just goes back to the said companion and is all caring like "are you ok? Do you need anything?" Djdjfnfnejjr p l e a s e I've had this idea for so long
Non-human companions will always have a special place in my heart (especially Hancock because characters from Goodneighbor will always be superior to me), so this ask is really fun! Besides, I'm pretty sure every Hancock or Valentine fan has sided against the Brotherhood just for this reason. Also I have a feeling I could be missing someone, since I almost forgot Codsworth and Strong, so please let me know if I am, I can just add them on lmao
//
Non-Human Companions React to M!Sole Being Protective (Includes: Curie, Codsworth, Hancock, Nick, Strong and X6-88)
Curie She insists that Sole didn't have to go to all that trouble for her, she understands that some people are bound to dislike her simply based on her appearance and although that can be disheartening, she's come to accept it. She's a little shocked by how Sole reacts, he's never been particularly violent if he can help it, but it's more how quickly his mood changes afterwards when he goes to check on her that catches her more off guard than anything. She can't help but feel touched by the gesture though, it's nice to know that there's someone willing to look out for her.
Codsworth The Commonwealth is a lot different than it was 210 years ago, Codsworth still remembers the days when people would clamour at the opportunity to have their very own Mr. Handy. Now, all he seems to be is target practice or scrap metal to the inhabitants of the wasteland. Nevertheless, that doesn't mean he's immune to how some people tend to treat him. While Sole's act of violence is quite concerning to him, Codsworth does find himself grateful that his old friend is willing to defend him against the abuse he's become accustomed to. Codsworth assures Sole he's fine and insists that he doesn't cause so much ruckus on his behalf, but he will make a point to thank him profusely for caring, even if he is just a robot butler.
Hancock While Goodneighbor is more than welcoming to people from all walks of life, Hancock isn't blind to the treatment of his kind outside the walls. He'd seen it with his own brother in Diamond City and Hancock wishes that he'd fought as hard for the exiled ghouls as Sole had just fought for him. The name calling doesn't bother him, really, he's heard it all before and he can handle himself. What catches him off guard is Sole beating the bigot that had insulted him to a pulp. He does figure that Sole might owe him one, considering Hancock had handled Finn for him the day they'd met. Still, he assures Sole that he's fine and clarifies that he can fight his own battles, not that the show Sole had put on wasn't entertaining to watch.
Nick Valentine Being around as long as Nick has, he knows what people think of his kind and sometimes it can be hard to blame them. The Institute are dangerous and they've taken countless lives for their own selfish gain, even though it's not his fault he has to walk around looking like their poster boy, he can understand why people might take out their frustration on him. Of course, that doesn't mean he isn't quick to bite back to defend himself. On this occasion though, Sole was quicker and much more vicious and Nick had barely managed to comprehend what had just happened before Sole was back at his side asking if he was okay. Nick was fine, as usual, and only might a slightly irritated remark about Sole using his words next time rather than his fists, before thanking him.
Strong He doesn't really understand the insult being thrown at him and, although he definitely will try to join in, he isn't too sure as to why Sole is attacking a random civilian. Once Sole has made sure that Strong is okay - which, of course, he is - and once he's explained what had just happened and why, Strong isn't particularly bothered, he knows Super Mutants are the superior race, the comments of a "puny human" won't change that.
X6-88 A snide remark from a worthless scavenger means absolutely nothing to him, but apparently it means a lot to Sole, who doesn't hesitate to give the scavenger a beatdown and make him apologise to X6. He decides to wait, rather impatiently, for Sole to be done, before asking that he doesn't cause such a scene again for something so meaningless. Deep down though, Sole knows that's his way of saying thank you.
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