#john hancock fluff

[strawberrykidneystone]

Morning sunshine

john hancock x f!ss!reader fluff

a/n: just a small little blurb!! i want to wake up to him everyday idc what he says xoxo

summary: waking up with hancock <3

tws: sexual innuendo, fluff, 2nd person (no y/n)

ao3 version

you opened your eyes and immediately squinted at the harsh sunlight streaming in through the windows. the curtains you had over the windows had seen better days and unfortunately, there was a hole in the tattered sheet that directly hit your eyes. you closed your eyes again and buried your face into hancock's neck. he was on his back with one hand around your waist and the other resting behind the pillow behind his head. he was still sound asleep, his signature tricorn hat hanging off the side of the bed frame. he smelled like tangerines and cigarettes, orange mentats were his favorites and he always smoked after your evening activities. he smelled like home.

sadly, sleep did not find you again after you were rudely awakened by the sun and you slowly sat up. stretching your arms up and yawning, hancock started to stir as he didn't feel your warm body next to him anymore. "hey what's the big idea, it's too early for you to be up," he groaned and lazily reached for your waist that was just out of his reach. you looked back and smiled sleepily at him, laying down and wrapping your arms around his waist as he enveloped you in his own. "i know i know, but unfortunately your sunshine was woken up by that big flaming ball in the sky", you quipped sarcastically and yawned, peppering kisses to his bare chest before resting your head against it.

hancock tsked and squeezed you closer to him, "i'm tellin' you, someone turned the brightness up on it i swear it was never this bright before." you giggled and made sure the sun wouldn't hit your eyes again before relaxing in his familiar cradle, "that, or you're just hungover." he rolled his eyes and ruffled your hair, "can't it be both?" you hummed in agreement and let your eyes close once more, burying your face into his neck to avoid being rudely awakened again. five more minutes of sleep. or ten. or twenty.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Hancock x F!Reader [ A03 ]

Summary: You are important to John Hancock; there is a radstorm brewing. As a skilled and reformed scavver, you’re after a part for a decommissioned lounger—it belongs to Doc Amari’s famed Memory Den.

Hancock's tense; he should have gone with you, but it’s not too late to search you out. He would be glad to have you home safe in his arms, only things don’t always go as planned, nor do you go unpunished for your negligence.

Explicit: NSFW / 18+ for PWP, PiV sex, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, whump / hurt and comfort, angst, gun violence, light bondage, praise, light sub/dom undertones, edging, use of chems, alcohol, foul language, and canon-typical violence and behavior. Other worthy mentions include fluff, romance, a worried and protective Hancock, and love confessions.

Notes: I am normally a Star Wars writer. This is my first time writing for Hancock, and my first fic for the Fallout fandom. I see Hancock as multifaceted, which I am having fun exploring. I have many ideas, but one fic can only contain so much! I used a few lines of dialogue from the game because they stuck with me T__T. I will also most likely try my hand at Nick Valentine at some point, (and maybe even Coop), but this ghoul stole my heart.

6.8k+

Feedback appreciated. Like? Reblog! <3 Requests accepted!

Eyes as black as tar pits searched the ground at his feet, though no answers would present themselves, the cold, grimy filth of the Commonwealth something he could relate to on an atomic level. Flecks of barren soil and bits of detritus vaulted upward in a stagnate aggregate of dust, cavalier leather boots—having seen better days—leaving a swirl of varied particulates in their wake.

Hancock paced, the Mayor of Goodneighbor impatient as a hungry mole rat, the man left to stalk before the door that led to the Financial District. A dreary, dark green pall signaled to anyone with brains that there was a storm looming on the horizon, and yet you had not returned.

“Where the hell is she?” a raspy voice asked its sparse audience, two ghouls dedicated to his cause doubling as bodyguards, though if he felt safe anywhere, it was here among his brethren.  Besides, it wasn’t his safety he was worried about, it was yours, and he wasn’t afraid to convey his feelings to the whole of town.

“Startin’ to get antsy. Gotta hand it to her, she’s got me sweatin’ like a whore in church over this. Hope she’s havin’ fun at my expense.”

Scavenging was lucrative, or it could be if you managed to score the right loot. You had to know where to look, or where not to look; danger was always in the cards. It was a game Hancock didn’t like to play, and especially not now, not when lightning streaked the sky, rain clouds pregnant with radiation threatening to burst open like a feral’s head looking down the muzzle of a sawed-off shotgun.

He knew what it was like to be forced to scour the bare bones of buildings, filching anything that was ripe for the picking. A single find could feed a man for weeks, and places like Goodneighbor just didn’t just build themselves. People needed things. Lucky for them, Hancock was able to provide. It was his one claim to fame—his rep was solid—but he didn’t look down on you for being one to scout for buried treasure.

“She’ll turn up,” one of his companions offered. It was a piteous attempt to console him, Hancock all but ignoring his dismissive comment. He felt his concern was obvious, yet his bedfellows were none of their business. Either way, he brushed it off like a decent man instead of snapping like he wanted to—the guy’d done nothing wrong.

Thunderclaps echoed through town, the first of many droplets pelting his marred face, the ghoul’s faithful tricorn not doing much in the way of shielding him from the dirtied water that had begun to trickle down onto its weathered surface.

He rued allowing you to go out on this wild-mongrel chase to begin with, not to say that you weren’t capable. What he might say is that you’re too good for this world, too good for him, but that hadn’t stopped him from falling head over heels.

You weren’t anti-social like most of your kind; you had a good heart, gave paying customers fair deals, and somehow you had kept the ruins from tarnishing your cheerful outlook; you sported a chipper disposition even at the worst of times.

In other words, you were his little ray of sunshine; Hancock had no qualms with telling you that to your face. And things as precious as you were to him? They needed protecting. It was becoming more obvious by the minute that he should have done the job himself.

“If this is her definition of ‘fast,’ we’re going to need to have a little chat to clear a few things up. Should have fucking gone with her, don’t know what I was thinking,” fried vocal cords scratched out, words tinged with worry as he made his way to the reinforced slab of steel that was Goodneighbor’s single entry point, not counting the alley behind Rexford.

“Maybe you weren’t thinkin’ at all, John…” that little voice inside his head nagged at him, reminding himself at every turn of the ways he’d failed, this on the verge of being one of them.

“Want us to look?” the other rejoined, aware you had been sent out on a job to find a replacement circuit board for Doctor Amari, as one of the memory lounger’s had been marked out of service. The doc would pay you well; everyone’s gotta eke a living somehow. Hers was made by sellin’ a man’s own memories back to him, and yours was made by sellin’ spare parts.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t have skipped out on his Mayoral duties for one evening, Hancock mentally scolding himself, his sentiments leading him toward the need to kick his own ass.

Quick, adept and clever, he had no doubt you could pull it off, but you were used to traveling in a group, used to back up and a lookout. You had willingly ditched your crew and settled here for him, making Goodneighbor more or less your permanent home. He couldn’t help but feel like he was ultimately responsible for you and your well-being—so far, so good. He’d be damned if anything happened to you on his watch.

The coming radstorm was starting to sound like a stampede of angry Brahmin. Not even those of his ilk should be out in this mess. Technically immortal, sure, but not immune to accumulating all that bad stuff brewing in the atmosphere; he was comfy right where he was, but not without his lady by his side.

Their self-elected leader ignored the question, reaching into the confines of his red frock coat to unveil the firepower hidden just out of sight. His break-action, double-barreled 12-gauge had most of its stock removed for easy concealment; he knew better than to step foot outside Goodneighbor without packing heat.

“No, you might say this is a personal problem. Not to say she wouldn’t make a damn fine Ghoul,” he stated with deadly calm, kicking the door open with reckless abandon despite his unflappable demeanor, not caring what awaited him on the other side.

“I’m going with you, ain’t safe,” words spoken over harsh winds, a breeze not in the least bit refreshing having descended upon the Commonwealth as Hancock slipped out into the mounting tumult, both men following close behind. Truthfully, he was grateful for their loyalty.  

“Suit yourself, but don’t go gettin’ yourself killed. Would defeat the purpose of a search and rescue, ya feel me?”

A question not needing a response, he ventured forward, running headfirst into the growing tempest, chaos reigning overhead in the form of a blinding light show.

Hancock called out for you, yelling your name over the deafening commotion that was going to get worse before it got better, not about to go home empty-handed, even if it took the whole damn rest of the night. He hoped you were smart enough to know when to quit, or that you’d taken those Mentats he’d stuffed in your pocket on the way out.

“Get back here, scavver!”

Footfalls echoed in the dark, brisk in pace, inky, depthless eyes narrowing as the ghoul searched out the source. He had taken no more than half a dozen steps before he was forced to witness you at a full-fledged run, two burly raiders belting out insults and expletives hot on your trail.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion, but he was stone-cold sober, time standing still as you dove into Hancock’s open arms.

“There’s my girl,” the scoundrel purred into your ear, sinewy limbs enshrouding you as the sound of gunfire and discarded ammo casings nearly went unnoticed. Hancock let his own weapon fall to the ground to accommodate you, your pursuers dispatched like the trash they were. The members of the Neighborhood Watch who had accompanied him outside the walls made short work of both men; they deserved a drink and some chems on his dime.

“John,” you breathed out, smiling up at him, eyes sparkling with mirth as you held up that piece of scrap you were so proud of. His name off your tongue was musical, a warm sensation spreading through him like wildfire, better than drugs—it was a high he would never come down from.

“I—I got the part,” you spoke softly, your tepid breath tickling the remnants of a disfigured ear.

Hancock almost shivered.

But oh, no. He wasn’t about to let you off that easy, not when he’d felt that pang of anxiety and the sickening feeling in his gut like someone had shanked him with his own knife. He held you back by the shoulders, breaking your embrace, his face taking on a displeased, stern shade.

“What’s wrong with you, huh? Makin' me all kinds of nervous. Scarin’ me half to death. And some might say I don’t look too far off.” He breathed in nice and slow, exhaling through exposed nasal cavities, Hancock emitting a sigh to emphasize his disappointment. “Can’t be doin’ things like that, or you’re liable to give this old ghoul a—”

“—Sunshine?” His heart sank, as if the universe was out to prove he had every right to worry, Hancock’s attention inexplicably drawn to the red staining your fingers—it neared the color of his coat. You only now seemed to notice, that radiant light swept from your beaming face as you acknowledged the presence of your own blood on your hands; no wonder it had been so hard to take those last few steps.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, eyes blown wide as you apologized for upsetting him. You would collapse into a heap, the adrenaline that had carried you home seeming to dissipate all at once—at least your fight-or-flight response had done its duty.

---

“Move over, out of the way. I ain’t askin’ twice,” Hancock seethed, the distraught man’s threat to bowl over anyone who stood in his way not to be taken lightly, though his tone was traitorously even and his despondency well-masked. He stormed the Old State House, ascending the spiral staircase to the second floor, carrying your limp body to a tattered red couch.

Refuse and empty Jet inhalers, along with half-drunk bottles of alcohol and boxes of Mentats, were all swept aside, Hancock throwing open cabinet doors and dislodging drawers in his haste.

“Oh, you’re really in it now, aren’t you, sister? Just had to make a few extra caps!” he chided, the ghoul’s husky voice rising in volume as he took to another part of the room.

Having not yet succumbed to blood loss, you were barely cognizant as you fought to stay awake, your beloved Mayor nothing more than a blur of motion and splotches of red as he systematically searched every nook and cranny for the syringe that would save your life.

“Hang on, dollface, you’re not dying today. Not if I have anything to say about it—and you know how much I love to run my mouth.” Hancock spoke to reassure you and himself, filling the silence with something other than the curses he wanted to dish out every which way to the wind. You couldn’t help but to smile again despite your predicament, eyelids drooping as you thought about the idea of sleep.

“There you are,” he growled, your vision starting to glaze over, though you were aware Hancock had come back to your side. His scarred, yet deceptively handsome face hovered inches above your own; it was an acquired taste you had no trouble in accepting.

“This is gonna hurt, but it’s better than the alternative,” he provided in short warning, withered fingers fumbling to unbutton your top, exposing first your sternum, your ribs, and then your belly.

“Shit, they got you good,” Hancock grumbled, your hand rising to cradle his jaw as he had peeled back the flaps of fabric to inspect the wound in your side. You were surprisingly calm, thinking that if today was your last day on Earth, at least you had been blessed to experience his company. 

“I’m glad it’s you here with me,” your voice, meek and mild, declared. Hancock hesitated for one precious second, caught off guard, but pleasantly so.

“Don’t go gettin’ sentimental on me! Ain’t like these are your final moments or nothin’,” he assured, an audible tremble causing his words to waver, voice rising in pitch. He went on to stab you without ceremony, the needlepoint of a stimpak and its revitalizing medicine at once injecting itself into your damaged flesh and pulsing through your bloodstream.

You moaned in pain, hips arching as you lifted slightly up off the cushions before you settled once more, allowing yourself to finally relax as Hancock watched the regenerative process take hold, much to his relief.

---

You awoke, finding yourself supine atop a mattress, with Hancock crossed legged on the floor beside you. He had brought it down from upstairs, wanting you to have somewhere more comfortable to recover; the drifters weren’t using it, but he was sure he could scrounge another one up should the need arise.

The door was shut, the rest of the room empty, the man teetering off the edge of a high he wished he could prolong; he had pumped himself full of all those things that made him feel better. Riddled with guilt, he had imbibed both chems and alcohol, his body slightly swaying from left to right as he could not sit entirely still, yet he was too far off in his own head to notice you had come back to him.

You shifted, realizing he had draped his frock across your body to act as a temporary blanket. This simple gesture caused a flutter behind sore ribs, biceps activating so that you might push up and rest on the flat of your palms.

John was idle, near-dead to the world, eyes closed as he kept up that gentle rocking, back and forth, as if lost in music or in deep meditation. You only desired to watch him, studying the intricate, striated patterns of his ravaged flesh, gazing over the hollow of his once human nose, and admiring his sullied, foppish tunic that was a part of his infamous ensemble.

While some might consider him a monster, he was a being of light. He had superficial, obvious flaws, but he was no more guilty of sin than anyone else in this day and age. He was a beautiful soul, inside and out, and your opinion was the only one that mattered to you. Hancock always tried to do the right thing—it’s what drew you to him—even if that meant taking out a few loose ends. 

Your heart stirred, natural chemical processes taking hold that would prompt you to touch him, your hormones dictating that you wanted this man carnally.

The ghoul’s eyes bolted open as you shuffled forward on your behind; you set his coat aside almost reverently, folding your legs like his, knees brushing as you leaned forward to kiss his wiry lips. Soft flesh against textured skin, rough in comparison, felt no less wonderful, Hancock groaning out a throaty sound of appreciation as he slowly shut his eyes again.

That was all the encouragement you needed, pressing closer, crawling onto Hancock’s lap as his hands found the meat of your ass to give it a squeeze. “Someone’s feelin’ better…” he quipped, allowing himself to lie back on the floor. His smile was lackadaisical and content, his touch roving to your thighs as he gazed up at you, noting you were tugging off your already unbuttoned top to reveal your shapely breasts.

“How’d a guy like me get so damn lucky…” he drawled, Hancock’s normally assertive way of speaking temporarily replaced by a calming cadence—it was dreamy—his indolent tone arousing your most base instincts.

You didn’t answer at first, thinking you’re the one who’s lucky. You had wanted and needed a change of pace, not happy with the way your business partners were operating, willing to bring death to others in order to get what scrap they could. You only took things from the ruins, or from those who deserved to be robbed, the idea of senseless violence proliferating thanks to people like your ragtag group something you decided you couldn’t live with.

You’d come to Goodneighbor looking for work; Hancock had been willing to give you a chance, and you didn’t disappoint. After a few heady conversations and risqué flirtations at the Third Rail, you had wound up in his arms—a place you found yourself never wanting to leave.

“I could ask you the same question,” you finally muttered, grazing his mouth, kisses repeating, small pecks placed from one side to the other in a physical show of adoration. The ghoul laughed a wry, salacious little laugh, head turning to allow for this impromptu bout of affection, stretching one arm out behind his head to act as a pillow as he relished the attention.

Then, his smile faded, the chem’s effects lingering like background radiation, less intense than before—the high lasted mere minutes if that, his faculties gradually returning. The hand left free gingerly touched your side, just below where he had administered the stimpak hours earlier. Concern was apparent in glistening eyes, so dark and lovely, starry pupils reflecting the faint luminescence of his surroundings.

“Not lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he promised, every shred of levity fleeing to be replaced by austerity, low, somber notes causing a visceral reaction as the onset of something warm and fuzzy spread throughout your core.

“Bein’ out here with me? Means you don’t gotta work, but I should have had your back, sunshine. Ain’t got no excuse.”

“You can have me on my back,” you playfully retorted, the simple suggestion unleashing a purr from the bowels of the ghoul’s throat. The idea of being a kept woman pleased you, but you were more interested in pleasing him.

“You better watch your mouth, or I can’t be held responsible for all those things I’m going to do to you,” Hancock countered. He talked big game, but he was still feelin’ shook. He didn’t want to risk getting too frisky on the off chance your body needed more time to heal; you were only human, after all.

“I’m shaking in my boots,” you simpered. Hancock was quick to snark back.

“I know that’s a lie, ‘cause you’re not wearing any.”

You gasped as Hancock flipped you without warning, pinning both your wrists to either side of your head. He drank in the smooth, supple flesh of your curves, hungry eyes making damn sure to get their fill.

He couldn’t stop himself, exploring the swell of a perfect tit, Hancock’s mouth becoming newly acquainted with the sensitive flesh of your nipple. He flicked its pert tip with the point of his tongue; you brazenly rolled your hips as you tried to contain the lewd sound that threatened to escape you.

“I double dog dare you, ” you tempted, not in the least bit afraid of what he might have in store.

Hancock didn’t take the bait.

“Don’t want to hurt you, love, but let’s say I give it to you nice and slow… Or as slow as I can give it; hard to keep promises, lookin’ the way you do,” he argued, ruined lips applying pressure as he began to suck, his growing erection gently grinding into the meat of your thigh.

“You won’t hurt me.” You shuddered as he pulled back, gazing into murky, otherworldly eyes, their glow hypnotizing. You half-assed a struggle, wanting to pull your hands free if only to touch him, Hancock chuckling mildly at your efforts.

“Don’t be so sure, ‘cause I got a hankerin’ for human,” his voice dropped emphatically lower, toying with you, his dire inflection sending tingles down your spine. Coming from a ghoul, most people would run the other way, but you knew from experience, Hancock had a twisted sense of humor—it was something you loved about him.

“Eat me,” you jeered, snapping your teeth playfully like some creature that roamed the wasteland, Hancock pulling his head back just enough to satisfy you, as if he had a nose to bite off to begin with.

“That’s the plan, sister,” he snickered, finally releasing his grip on your arms.

You took the opportunity to take hold of Hancock’s already tousled vest, guiding him down to meet your lips. Your fingers busied themselves with its unbuttoning as the ghoul had his hands full, cradling the plump, healthy tissue of your blushing cheeks in the crooks of his palms.

Hancock fed a grating moan into your mouth before asking a pointless question he already knew the answer to, not one to miss out on a chance to have his ego stroked. “Somethin’ about me.. turnin' you on? Don’t know why you’d go for this ugly mug,” he conceded, fishing for a compliment. 

“You. You turn me on,” you whined plaintively, “everything about you,” you confessed, furling your tongue around his, willing him to shut his trap long enough for you to kiss him properly. He aided in the undressing, whipping his sash off in one fell swoop, an idea blossoming only to come into fruition shortly thereafter.

“That why you’re actin’ so desperate for me?” Hancock laced that bit of ragged flag around both your wrists, constricting them once more, his own arm extending to tauten its hold. He wouldn’t give you the chance to kiss him the way you wanted to, cinching its loose ends around the legs of the coffee table just behind your head, giving it a good tug to make sure you couldn’t break free.

In reality, it would have been easy to wiggle loose, but he knew you were the type to play along.

“What are you doing?” you asked, feigning alarm. The ghoul only grinned a shit-eating grin, crawling backward across your lap to adjust to a better position for his next course of action. 

“Makin’ sure you can’t skip out on me,” he said matter of fact, a mischievous lilt to his voice, “gonna have to punish you for all that worryin’ you made me do.” 

“But, Hancock—” you protested, realizing he was barring you from the one thing you wanted—full access to his person, unable to grope and caress all those parts of him you were so eager to touch and kiss.

“—Hmm?” he hummed, the bastard having the nerve to stand. He left you in a recumbent position with hands tied, unable to do anything but gaze up at the seductive set of motions he was now subjecting you to.

The ghoul painstakingly unfastened the remainder of his buttons, wizened digits fondling each in turn, his manner suggesting something that for now would remain unspoken. Then, Hancock shrugged his vest off, allowing his arms to hang as the garment dropped silkily to the floor. It was followed by a festooned shirt, leaving the man bare chested and amused; he wasn’t sure you had blinked even once.

“Like what you see?” he asked lazily, tracing a line across his gaunt pecs toward his navel with the curl of a finger, black eyes glinting impishly at the sight of you jostling your wrists as you failed to liberate yourself.

“Yes,” you breathed out shamelessly, unable to deny the effect his little striptease had on you. This in and of itself was torture, finding his brand of punishment entirely unfair.

“Good,” Hancock crooned, doing the unthinkable as he vanished from view. He even went so far as to walk beyond your peripheral vision. Instead, you were reduced to listening out for him, the ghoul shuffling around somewhere behind you. 

“John,” you whined, sitting up and scooting back against the coffee table the best you could. You endeavored to crane your neck, hearing the clink of glass preceding other innocuous sounds, the gentle thud of Hancock’s boots echoing across the rotting floorboards as he made his way back around. 

“You can say my name all you want to, princess, but it ain’t gonna change a damn thing,” Hancock stressed, words clawing their way out of cracked pipes as he nudged your knees apart with his foot; he knelt between your legs, a dispenser of Jet in one hand, and a dose of Rad-X in the other. “Open wide,” he instructed. 

You should have known what he’d been after, the drug-addicted ghoul popping the lone anti-radiation capsule inside his mouth after dispensing a heavy spray of the illicit substance into his lungs; its potency was limited in his case, but you were easily susceptible to its high. 

You gratefully obeyed, wanting any excuse to be close to him, Hancock’s silver tongue molesting you as easily as it had persuaded you to listen. He deposited the pill into your mouth, kissing you deeply, your beloved Mayor giving you a shotgun of thick, odorous chems without so much as a single protest on your part. 

Your heart thrummed, Jet leeching its way into your bloodstream to trigger a bodily response via your nervous system. In the meantime, you had almost forgotten to swallow your dose of Rad-X, Hancock prompting you by trailing the full length of your throat with a single, sallow finger. 

He massaged it down, feeling for the activation of those muscles that would help ferry it along, his thoughts drifting to the memory of his cock once upon a time being slopped on by the wet whorl of your tongue. His prick had throbbed almost painfully, sequestered snugly inside your zealous gullet, the powerful suction of your hollow cheeks threatening to wrench his soul from his body, or it sure as hell had felt that way.

He was drawn back to the present moment by the look in your eyes, your pupils dilating to rival the circumference of dinner plates. You gazed at the man before you; Hancock pulled back the edge of your bottom lip, exposing your gumline, the ghoul snaking another of his fingers inside your partially open mouth. 

The slender extremity would bypass your blunt teeth, saturating itself in your saliva. Even in this state, you had the wherewithal to pucker up, intaking that explorative digit to the knuckle, your plush maw behaving like a deluxe pre-war vacuum cleaner. 

The ghoul shuddered, though keeping his cool intact, lost in the depths of your unwavering stare. He slowly slipped back out, releasing your lip for it to snap gently back into place, Hancock satisfied with the knowledge you had swallowed the pill.

“Look at you, bein’ such a good girl for me,” Hancock praised, speaking in a low, sultry whisper. You did not reply, your desire for the man at its all-time high, that warmth in your belly having spread to complement the unparalleled ache of your loins.

“Hancock,” you whimpered, once more tugging at the cloth that bound you. You felt delirious with longing, your heart racing as you saw stars, euphoria overtaking all of your senses. You pushed forward, halted partway by that fucking flag that had you fettered like some common criminal, too blazed to even think about squirming loose. 

“Please,” you begged, lips reaching for his. Hancock evaded you, trailing a divot devoid of cartilage across your sateen cheek, directing it toward your lovely, intact nose. 

“Please, what, sister?” he ruthlessly teased, watching as your tongue tried to skirt his teeth; its vertex barely met its goal. Still, Hancock would return the gesture with a sweep of his own, flitting his against yours, inhaling deeply the scent of Jet off your breath as he was suddenly consumed by an almost feral need to taste your neediness—it was nearly palpable. 

“Please.. touch you? Please kiss you? Please.. fuck your pretty little hole?” he asked in a derisive tone, though his movements were languid, Hancock in no rush to oblige you, even as his veiny hands glided over every inch of your sleek skin.

“Is that what my little ray of sunshine wants?” the ghoul taunted, moving to unbutton the clasp at the top of your pants, then pinching the pull of your zipper, teeth parting to reveal clean cotton. You were nearly embarrassed by how damp your panties were, the chems only making your arousal ten times worse; Hancock wasn’t helping matters, a lecherous moan reaching your ears as the man slid back and realigned himself, bending forward to bury his face in the moist outline staining your skivvies.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet—” he marveled breezily, “—is it all for me?” Hancock rasped, nipping you through the fabric, a desiccated finger tucking itself into its elastic hem. Hancock dragged it down just far enough to expose your sweet-smelling sex, the ghoul’s tongue slithering easily between slick folds. 

You inhaled a disjointed gasp for breath, voice cracking as you cried out in ecstasy, Hancock having barely swiped your thrumming clit. That alone was almost too much, your hips bucking beneath him of their own volition as you pleaded with him to keep his promise.

“Don’t tease,” you sighed, naked breasts rising and falling with every labored breath. Hancock’s eyes traveled up your fine as fuck body before meeting your gaze, a twisted hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his ghoulish mouth. 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he snickered, fingers grasping the entirety of your waistband to help you shimmy off your bottom layer of clothes. Your hips wriggled all too desperately, overjoyed to finally be free of their constraints. 

“But that’s not fair!” you entreated, unabashedly spreading your legs in the hopes of providing him a suitable meal, ready and willing to be devoured if you could only convince him to take the plunge.  

“And why not?” he asked in all seriousness, nuzzling into the lush flesh of your labia as his silky tongue entombed itself, gathering your moist heat from its source. He dipped back out to your chagrin—you had inhaled sharply in preparation only to be left disappointed—Hancock licking a stripe to the cusp of your throbbing bud. 

“Because I’ll die,” you replied, overexaggerating, writhing in bliss, albeit temporary; Hancock seemed out to drive you mad, retracting once more to glance back up at you, reedy lips downturned in a disapproving frown. 

“No, you won’t,” he asserted, voice taking on a sobering, sincere quality; even if you were being hyperbolic, after the events that had just transpired, Hancock didn’t find it funny, resolving to dine on you good and proper, as if it would be the thing to save your life. 

“I—” You were cut off mid-thought, lightning crashing thunderously outside, the ghoul introducing two coarse fingers into your clenching cunt as the radstorm raged on. Hancock’s neck sank low as you arched your hips, the flat of a thick tongue bringing you toward rapture as he succinctly lapped your clit in delicious combination, playing you like some Old World violin. 

“Aren’t you glad you’re trapped in here with me instead of out there cookin’ alive?” Hancock asked offhand, digits curling to find the seat of your pleasure, warm, wet muscle dancing slow, precise circles across your sensitive nerves. You halfheartedly yanked at your bindings once more, wishing for nothing more than to ravish him like a woman starved, deprived of sustenance. 

“Yes, yes— please, just like that,” you answered, urging him on, the man encouraged to keep at it, long, languorous strokes titillating you toward release.

Then, he simply stopped, fingers glossy upon exit, Hancock sucking your slick clean off with a scarecrow smile, tilting his head like a curious animal as you bemoaned your plight, left to suffer on the edge of an orgasm. 

“Relax, I ain’t through with you yet,” Hancock remarked, lifting himself up to a seated position on his knees. You whined indignantly, made to watch as he unbuckled and unzipped his own pants.

The rogue stood completely, giving you another show, kicking one boot off after the other before slinking out of the rest of his clothes. 

You took a moment to admire him, skin pockmarked with scars, deep pits of tissue missing where cells had inevitably healed all too quickly, John a mosaic of gnarled, misshapen flesh and keloid. Yet he was so handsome, charming, and cavalier, the man leaving nothing on but his tricornered hat, returning to his previous enterprise by way of interring his roiling tongue into your aching center. 

“Oh, John,” you murmured, voice hushed, the man’s thumb working itself concentrically atop your little pearl. 

For once, he was quiet, his strokes inside you meticulous, the nearly silent room filled with a plethora of obscene sounds as he feasted on you like a Yao guai over a fresh kill. Just a little attention was all it took, nails digging into the palms of your tied hands as you twisted beneath him, vocalizing loud enough you were sure the whole State House would hear.

A shiver rocked you to your core, riding out your climax for as long as you could stand it. You were unable to push Hancock’s head back even if you wanted to, the ghoul finding a new way to punish you, continuing to stimulate your already oversensitive clit. 

“Hancock, please—” you begged him under different circumstances, the ball of your foot gingerly pushing against his blatant hard-on. The ghoul finally let up just enough to chortle dryly, obviously nonplussed.

“Done already? Thought we were just gettin’ this party started,” he flouted, sitting up properly, probing fingers caressing the curve of your slit as they trailed upward, ghosting over your navel to tweak your nipple. They didn’t stop there, reaching just behind you to nab a cigarette off the edge of the coffee table, your expression giving away your confusion as he struck a match to ignite the end.

“No, John— you’re supposed to fuck me!” you berated, another devious little chuckle let loose from wilted lips. The ghoul inhaled a deep drag of nicotine laced with radiation, though the amount contained therein was so trivial he didn’t bat a lash—not that he had any.

He gazed at you through a thin veil of smoke exuded from eroded nasal passages—a short burst of pressure from his lungs propelling it outward—a freakish sight to some, but you had grown accustomed to it. 

“So, that is what you want,” Hancock digressed, snubbing the end of his cig on the floor after a few more laggard puffs. The Jet was wearing off, Hancock having already sobered completely, its side effects leaving you feeling used-up and exhausted. Hancock had forgotten what it felt like to come down from such an intense high; you pouted pathetically up at him.

“Baby,” you whined, immediately capturing Hancock's attention. He dropped the act, eyes softening around the edges, colorless voids somehow the most expressive you had ever seen them.

“What is it, sunshine? Feelin’ all right? Need somethin’ to take the edge off?” he asked gently, concern present in his tone, the ghoul finally being kind enough to reach over your head to free you from your bindings. 

“I need you,” you implored, your speech sounding childishly irritable, tired, heavy arms lifting to wrap themselves around John’s neck; you couldn’t help yourself, having been prohibited from touching him for what felt like hours, when in reality it had only been a short length of time. 

“I’m all yours,” Hancock vowed, whisking a stray strand of your hair away. A soft kiss was pressed into even softer lips; the man was two sides of the same coin, like night and day. Part of you prayed you would never cross him, his temper volatile, like an active volcano lying dormant until such a time the right conditions were met, inevitably causing an eruption. 

But he was also kind, genuine, and a good person, only wanting to make the Commonwealth a better place; he held within him a righteous anger, and for good reason, determined to stick by him through thick and thin. 

"Nice and slow?" you asked, bringing the conversation full circle, ushering the ghoul down on top of you as you laid back, gazing up with heavy-lidded eyes. He searched your face, as if double-checking for something, needing to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that nothing was wrong—you were only sulking. 

“You got it, sister,” Hancock replied coyly, the fullness of a finger returning to you as he tested the waters; you were still so unbelievably wet. It was a stark contrast to the dry, desolate landscape that stretched for miles just beyond his little town, the ghoul humming in gratitude as you kissed him once again. 

You wasted no time, slipping your hand between the depression of your bodies where hip meets hip, his weight a warm, inviting presence that comforted you like nothing else. Your fingers toyed with his variegated shaft, thumbing a bead of loosed pre-cum to moisten its tip; Hancock moaned lustfully as he buried himself deeper into the column of your throat, teeth raking tender flesh, barely withholding the intention to bite.

“I’m thinkin’ you must be the single best thing to ever happen to me,” Hancock confessed in a dulcet whisper, voice quavering with emotion as you carefully escorted his cock inside you, one delicious inch at a time. Jagged breaths found their way into your ear, distorted, ribbed flesh, more than adequate in length and girth, stretching you open, a subdued sound of longing and relief birthed from parted lips. 

“I love you,” you blurted out, unable to keep your feelings at bay, any and all movements ceasing before they had wholly begun.

You had closed your eyes; they fluttered open, fear wheedling its way inside your heart as Hancock gazed at you in silence. You cursed yourself, having never before expressed such a sentiment out loud, unsure how the man would take it, or if he even felt remotely the same—all signs pointed to yes, but you refused to be presumptuous. 

Then, he pushed up into your tight cunt with one slow, smooth stroke of his cock along your anterior walls, stimulating your G-spot. Pleasure radiated through you as you emitted a stilted breath, Hancock cradling your cheek, resting his forehead against yours to stare penetratingly into your eyes.

“Took you to be smarter than this, but I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear you say that,” he breathed against your lips, slipping a motile tongue into your mouth, wanting to desperately deepen your connection. 

You readily accepted, your own tongue writhing and contracting in unison with his, heart beating fervently behind a wall of blood and bone. Your fingers clawed and grasped at his narrow shoulders and the tendinous flesh of his back, exploring every inch of your ghoulish lover, from head to jutting hipbone.

Hancock drove his cock into you, back and forth, keeping a steady, equal rhythm like the beat of a drum. “Why now?” he asked, voice tempered, each pump of his thick prick inside you unhurried and sensuous.

“Nearly dying may have had something to do with it,” you jested in-between indecent, muted moans, Hancock’s deliberate pace driving you toward orgasm. The arm not supporting his weight curled tightly around you. He clutched you to his chest, and you wrapped your thighs around his waif thin waist in return. 

“Mmn.. that it?” Spindly fingers moved to grip the back of your head, digging into tufts of your hair; your back bowed to support you in joining with him more fully, Hancock massaging your scalp as he massaged your insides, debauch, rich sounds filling both your ears.

“And because I have nothing to lose,” you reluctantly answered, breath picking up speed as you pushed back against firm, rawboned pectorals with the palm of your hand; you had the intention of arranging yourself at just the right angle to please— a simple slant of your hips would make things all too easy.

Within moments, you came, pinpricks of light overwhelming your senses. You were elated, as if your consciousness had been overtaken by a nebulous cloud of love and electromagnetic radiation, a soul set adrift in a swirling haze of thoughts, feelings and emotions that would amalgamate into something beautiful—it caused you to cry out a sound of intense, heartfelt bliss. 

Your mind went blank, only registering that John had simultaneously shared in the experience. It would take you both a moment to calm.

Then, you squeezed Hancock tightly between your legs, a signal for him to not withdraw, but to stay awhile, the tension in your body settling as you laid back down.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Hancock would smother you with his scant weight, caressing the point of your chin, his thumb snaking across your bottom lip. He gave a faint exhalation of breath, the concave outline of his nasal cavity grazing the convex shape of your nose; it tickled.

“Nothing to lose but each other.”

[bisexualiteaa]

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

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.

[v1nsmoke]

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 // 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

oneshot - fallout's john hancock x reader

tw: mentions of drugs (usual hancock activity)

summary: after days of exiting goodneighbor, you and hancock finally get to talk

fandom: fallout

a/n: there is not enough talk about this fella omg… now that liking the ghoul from the fallout show is accepted, i can come forward (i chose the “romance hancock” option every playthrough). no pronouns used, so gender neutral ig? also the inspiration for the title is that one song thats viral on tiktok rn, also galvanized square steel mentioned

tags: -

wc: 0.6k

“Day twenty-five since leaving Vault 111, today is Monday and my location is Diamond City, it’s currently 2:41 PM. Me and my companion are at the noodle shop,” you say, speaking into your Pip-boy. 

Recently, you’ve been documenting every day, usually just a brief summary on that day’s experiences. These experiences consisted of hourly radroach attacks, accidental overdose on jet, or encounters with hostile Mr. Handy’s. Or accidental near-death situations with a deathclaw. That only happened once. 

You weren’t sure anybody would ever hear these, even better, be interested in these daily logs. Your companion seemingly couldn’t care less about these logs, as he ate his portion of ramen next to you. 

“The Institute remains undefeated, and I doubt it will change today, I’m not in the mood for it,” you continue.

“If it depended on your mood, it would be there forever,” Hancock cuts in with his sarcastic remark.

A sigh escapes your lips at his words.

“Maybe I should switch back to Dogmeat and send you back to Goodneighbor,” you reply.

“Now, what good would that do for you?”

“It would spare me from more of these remarks.”

“But can Dogmeat give you this?” He asks as he slides you a jet.

Hesitantly, but you accept it with a smile. 

“John Hancock, the ghoul you are,” you sigh.

A smile creeps onto his features. 

“See? You like me enough.”

“Whatever helps you sleep…”

You’ve been traveling with Hancock for the past week or so, after you accepted the offer of Bobby, who just so happened to lie to you. One thing led from another, and after finishing off Hancock’s bodyguard, you managed to solve the bad blood between the two of you by killing Bobby herself. 

Hancock was useful and good company, helping out where he could and making small talk with you. Not to mention that he was supplying you with a different kind of drug every day. They don’t have that stuff in Vaults…

Last night, the both of you got high as hell in the home you bought with hard-earned caps here, in Diamond City. It was mostly a box, so you decided to illegally expand it with galvanized square steel and eco-friendly wood veneers. So, after the finished construction - that lasted four days with the cheap and friendly workforce including Little John (Hancock) and yourself -, the two of you decided to celebrate.

He plopped down onto the mattress - the construction fee was too much for you to spend even more caps on a normal bed -, resting his back against the wall. You popped open a bottle of Nuka-Cola, taking your place on the mattress next to him.

“So, how do ya like it?” He asks, taking a Jet out of his pocket.

“So far so good,” you reply with a sigh.

“That’s all? Not ‘I love this place more than the Vault’?”

“I do like it more than the Vault, cause you’re here.”

He stays quiet for a few seconds before speaking up.

“That’s good.”

“That’s all? Not ‘Wow I, too, am really glad that I’ve got you and get to share Jet with you and that you defended me from that Deathclaw’?”

He lets out a slight chuckle, hanging his head low. 

“Thank you, then. For these past few days I’ve spent with you. Never thought I would find anybody who would accept me as their companion.”

© v1nsmokes 2024. Do not modify, translate or rewrite.

[draped1ncerecloth]

Omg I FIGURED OUT MY PASSWORD FOR MY ACCOUNT

Im back up and running and a small update!

I graduated highschool and have been working now for ab a year n a half n forgot all ab tumblr!

But now im obsessed with this man John Hancock.

So now I wanna kinda give an update I’ll be turning 20 n I got a few weeks before I start my course in college so FLOOD MY INBOX W REQUESTS OF WHAT TO WRITE !!! I’m open for business bb 🌷

[weniswastelandwenis]

Man Under the Sea

// Hancock x Sole Survivor x X6-88 Oneshot //

The sky lit aglow with an ominous green haze, enveloping the entire wasteland in its uneasy lime hue. A sharp thunderclap sounded out, accompanied by violent howling winds which whistled through the broken windows. Sole lay uneasily on a mattress on the floor, waiting for the radstorm to pass. She had attempted to catch an hour or two of sleep, but every so often the booming thunder would startle her awake, or a tiny droplet would sneak through a hole in the roof and land on her forehead.

She resigned herself to stare at the ceiling, before being startled slightly at the sound of the door opening. Heavy footsteps sounded throughout the room and without looking up she knew who was approaching by the cadence of his uniform steps.

“You’re still awake.” X6-88 observed from where he stood above her. He must have finished patrolling the perimeter. Sole looked up at him silently at first. His face was expressionless and set resolutely as he stared at her.

“The weather is keeping me up.” She explained.

“You need to sleep, otherwise your body will fail.” He affirmed, droplets of rain dotted his face and armored coat. The water pooled at his boots and in the doorway. X6-88 didn’t take notice of his current state and continued to stare at her.

Lighting struck, illuminating his stoic face, followed by a loud rumble of thunder. She sat up quickly and looked to the window, but he did not react to look away from her. Her Geiger counter ticked ominously and X6-88 stepped forward.

“We should get back to the institute. It is clear you will not be able to sleep under these conditions.” He said. She reluctantly stood, the old springs of the mattress creaking as she gathered herself. He watched her silently, holding his arm out expectantly. She gazed at his arm with unsure eyes.

“This always makes me feel sick.” She said.

“If nausea occurs, we can visit the bioscience division if necessary.”

She placed her hand on his arm, bracing for the inevitable vertigo to come.

“X6-88 ready to relay back to the institute.”

White light flashed before her eyes blinding her temporarily, before settling on a cascading kaleidoscope of cerulean hues.

When she opened her eyes father was standing before them, hanging brain.

“Daddy.” X6-88 said firmly, performing a dual-handed salute.

“Both hands?” Father asked proudly. “Your two handedness has improved. I do hope to see more of that in Daddy’s bedroom.” He whispered in his ear, hoping Sole hadn’t heard.

She did.

Sole cleared her throat, both men unaware she too was in the room.

“Excellent, you’re back. I do hope your travels in the commonwealth have proven fruitful?” He questioned, both hands clasped behind his back, dong still hanging and swaying slightly in the breeze produced by the institute’s air conditioning.

“They have, thank you.” She forced herself to look at him eye-level even though the shriveled thing was just hanging there like that.

There was still rain on X6-88’s form, along with perspiration which was produced quite quickly much to Father’s chagrin. He gave X6-69 a knowing look. Sole excused herself from the room quickly yet respectfully and left to explore the rest of the Institute's bowels. She looked over her shoulder, and as she was leaving she saw Father plugging his phone charger into X6-88s multi tool sexily.

Sole strode through the halls, trying to forget what she just witnessed. She would never get used to the sterile environment the Institute provided. Synths strode past her like worker bees, not paying her any mind. She supposed Father was the queen.

Absent-mindedly she peered down at her Geiger counter and noticed it was getting dangerously close to the ‘dead’ level. A trip to the med-bay wouldn’t hurt.

When she arrived at the med-bay her Geiger counter strangely began to go off again. When she looked up she found Hancock, rifling through the medicine drawers and filling his pockets with jet. To his left was a dead doctor with the star spangled banner tied around her neck in a lethal stranglehold, hanging from the ceiling.

“Hancock, what in tarnation!?” Sole half squealed and half screamed. She was happy to see him as they were friends with benefits, but brushing another Hancock-induced death under the rug wasn’t what she had planned for today.

“Sister, check out this haul! No wonder these bitches love being down here so much, they’re all high as a kite and jerking each other off.”

“Tell me about it. I just saw my son’s dong.”

Suddenly X6-88 strode into the room, his tall gait strong and immovable. His muscles rippling and writhing under his skin. His height was impressively tall. He opened his mouth and an alarming air horn-like noise emitted from it.

“Intruder alert! Intruder alert!”

Sole and Hancock covered their ears (although Hancock just has ear holes) in an attempt to not be deafened.

All the sudden Father sprinted in, almost tripping as his pants were around his ankles.

“What seems to be the problem!?” His eyes shot to the dead doctor. Hancock had a “did I do that?” expression, kind of like Urkel from Family Matters.

Everyone’s eyes shot to the handkerchief around the dead doctors neck, that clearly had “property of Hancock” lovingly stitched onto the edge. Sole blushed and covered her “property of hancock” tattoo lovingly stitched on her arm.

“X6-88,” Father said expectantly and held out his hand.

X69 shot out his multi tool as ordered.

“Get ready for the ass beating of your life you little bitch.”

”And then, uhhh…” The campfire crackled around the huddled group of dirty children of Little Lamplight.

“You mungo! What happens next?!”

MacCready took a long drink from his juice box and stared up at the stars.

“There is no ending, we’ll never know what happened. And that’s life, sometimes stories just kind of… end.”

FIN

[ghoulspirits]

☀ Come on, love ☀

*heading out to The Castle and en route shanks a molerat with a bayonet*

*takes psycho*

(You are addicted to chems)

(Hancock liked that)

(Hancock idolises you)

And here we are 💍

He watched her, running through the gentle rays of sunlight coming to their close for the evening. Close behind and deep eyes full of wander, Hancock's memories flood back to their days as The Silver Shroud, reminded of how gracefully her and Kent got along, and too how unrelenting she was in making sure Sinjin went down and Kent was saved. He smiled, a slight heat reaching his face- the butterflies of longing were a welcome feeling now.

After clearing mutants for their friends at The Slog, he opened his heart to Emily, just enough that if she felt as strongly as he did she could let him know. He could've guessed it, by the way she always glanced back, searching with pure care and concern if ever he were not behind her. Or, the soft moments of closeness, underlaid with unmistakable desire in each of their eyes. Gentle brushes of hands. Gaze falling to eachothers' lips. Too, the way she edged closer to him anytime a drifter wanted to sweep her away in The Third Rail, a subconscious act which warmed his heart- easing his anxiety that his feelings may be unrequited. So, before heading out to The Slog, he spoke to one of their closest friends- Magnolia. The beautiful singer was forever observant, and giggled at the thought of Hancock even questioning if his feelings for Emily were mutual. She had watched them together, seen the way they looked at each other, and adored the way their personalities and stories fit together like they were tied by a red string of fate. But, she knew how fragile and intimidating matters of the heart were, especially to the Mayor, so she reassured him without giving away all the things Emily had revealed to her about how much she liked him. Magnolia simply nudged him, kindly, that he should definitely take the leap of faith, and tell her truly how deeply he felt.

So, after they opened up on their return to the garden and friends of The Slog, talks of impure thoughts and lasting glances of passion and fantasies, there it began: a freefall of feelings into something so tangible, no longer just a dream both of them held in whispers in their own minds. It was perfect. But, as time went on, he knew his feelings were, for the first time in his life, serious. Not just flirtations, something fun to pass the time- for he could see just how unconditionally Emily cared for him, how she wanted him. She made it known to him how she loved his attitude. "Help those that need helping, hurt those that need hurting" was something she stood by as strongly as he did. It was a blessing to find someone who accepted her truly, who made her feel safe, who made her laugh, and who sparked a fire in her core more so than anybody she had crossed paths with before. He loved to tease her with his flirtatious remarks, but instead of receiving a harsh dismissal from her, she would blush and meet his eyes, challenging him with her own quiet firey nature. It was when inhibitions were gone with the wind, thanks to the various substances of the Commonwealth, Emily would let slip not just how much she really adored him- but how she longed for him. Talks of his eyes, the way his shoulders fit into his red coat, wanting to see more of his beautiful skin that peaked out of his shirt. He never acted on it whilst she was intoxicated, he would never take advantage, but he did cherish her comments. Thought about them at night, as his hands wandered down upon himself. It felt so real, not just their connection, but the feelings of adoration they both held. Hancock couldn't believe his luck in finding her, and little did he know, neither could Emily. There was no ulterior motive, caps or chems or status. She saw him for him, listened intently and empathetically to all he had to say- and Hancock fell even harder. He knew he had to do something more, make her his girl.

This time, he needed no reassurance. The passion and longing within him was too strong to ignore, stoked by the glimpses she gave him of feelings so far beyond a flirtation. He wanted to wait for a perfect moment, perhaps after they got to The Castle, he thought. Maybe when they next went back to The Slog, it had become a sacred place for them after all. However, after watching her launch her bayonet into a molerat, and taking her Psycho without second thought, watching as her body lurched with cares to the wind of the thought of addiction, knowing he wanted to watch out for her but also live a romance of being addicted to eachother- he realised he was thinking too much and just wanted to act. In reality, the words almost fell out of him involuntarily.

Instinctively.

Naturally.

Like it was meant to be...

"Hey, when you've got time" He began, "there's something I need you to hear"

☀

[shslivalice]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Courier/John Hancock (Fallout) Characters: Male Courier (Fallout: New Vegas), John Hancock (Fallout) Additional Tags: Trans Male Courier (Fallout), Fluff, Vague Timeframe, Sleepy Cuddles, Implied/Referenced Drug Use Summary:

Perrin - Courier Six - wears a black scarf all the time. Hancock is curious about it.

[late-nite-scholar]

Falloutober Day 1: World on Fire

And onto the second prompt list I’ve decided to tackle this month! I’m here with Falloutober, courtesy of @falloutober​! I really liked this particular prompt, and I ran with it. Ended up with a bit of a fluffy piece featuring my Sole Survivor, Hawke (originally named Hannah, pre-cryostasis) and her very favorite ghoul, Hancock. 

Warnings- mentions of drug/chem use

Length- around 900-ish words

(I don’t remember when exactly I took this screenshot, but it’s a pretty good one of the two of them)

The song floated over from the radio behind them. A small chuckle gave way to a sigh as Hawke snuggled herself deeper into the ratty couch. 

***

I don't want to set the world on fiiiire….

"What's funny, darlin'?" Hancock pulled her closer, idly running his fingers up and down her arm.  

"This song… it just makes me think. I did see the world on fire. Briefly. It's still so fresh for me, but I'm the only one. It's damn near ancient history for everyone else. I'm the only one who remembers what it was like before…" 

"I dunno how you do it. Lookin' out there and knowin' what it all is supposed to look like. I'd be so deep in chems you'd never see me again." 

"It's tempting. Trust me. If it wasn't for Shaun…" She took a deep breath. She was no closer to finding her son now than she had been when she'd woken up from cryosleep six months ago. 

As if intuiting her thoughts, he rubbed her arm gently. "We'll find him. Even if we gotta storm the Institute ourselves." 

"Just you and me?" 

"Yeah. Get us both some power armor and we'll be good to go." He joked. A long moment stretched out between them before he asked. "What was it like?" 

"What was what like?" 

"The world. What was it like before it got blown up?" 

The question surprised her a little. He'd never asked something like that before. Others had, but Hancock had always steered clear of anything that would bring up old pain. Ever since he'd gone back to the Vault with her that one time. He'd seen the cryochamber she'd been trapped in all those years, and the one across from it that Nate was still in. It had turned him quiet, and when they’d gotten back to her house in Sanctuary Hills he’d taken a Calmex himself before offering her some. After that, he never asked about her life before the war. Until now. 

She leaned a little closer to him, considering her words. "It was different in a way, the same in a way. People are people, no matter what the world looks like. So much is gone, of course; the law office where I used to work is part of the Glowing Sea now. I was just about to head back to work when the bombs fell. Shaun was going to go to a daycare a couple of days a week and stay the rest with Codsworth. I was looking forward to it, going for coffee first thing, seeing my coworkers. I'd even gotten my hair done to be ready." She laughed. "I'd look like a stranger to myself if that me saw me now. I used to wear suits and dresses, skirts with heels. Makeup always done, hair done." 

"Mmmm, skirts and heels?" Hancock teased gently. 

“Every day.” She teased back. But her smile turned sad. “It almost feels like someone else’s life. I guess it was, in a way. It was before I was me, and I was still her, that woman I was before. It was Hannah’s life, Hannah’s world. And it’s gone now, obliterated in a flash brighter than the sun. That’s what it looked like, you know.”

“You actually saw the bomb fall? I thought you were in the Vault when it happened?”

“We were on the elevator, and it was starting to go down. I didn’t see the bomb itself come down, just this blinding flash. Then the mushroom cloud, this column of fire going up. The elevator had gone down just enough that the shockwave passed right over us. It was loud. Louder than anything. So yeah, seeing the world on fire was the last time I saw it for two hundred years.” 

“Oh, darlin’...” he said softly. 

“It’s easier to talk about now. Like I said, it feels like another life. And this world… it’s a hard one. But it’s not all bad.” She shifted back to rest her head on his shoulder. 

“That’s just the chems talkin’.” 

“I haven’t taken anything today. I mean it. I mean, yeah, there’s so many dangerous things now, I never had to worry about Super Mutants and radscorpions and deathclaws before. But this is… freer.” 

“You sure you’re sober, baby? You just said you liked this shitty world.”

She laced her fingers into his. “Maybe I’m just more suited to this than I was to that world. I wonder if I really did belong there, or if I was just pretending. Maybe it’s just being so far removed from it… I… I don’t think I’d go back, even if I could.” 

“Really? You’re not bein’ serious, are you?”

“I am. I feel like I belong here now. And besides,” She turned to give him a grin. “I’ve met this handsome fella in the Commonwealth. He’s a mayor and everything.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad you’re here, too, darlin’.” 

The song had long ended, and another had taken over. They sat for a long moment, listening to a melody that had been old even in Hannah’s time. The world outside was indeed harsh; but right now, in this patched and rebuilt pre-war house in Sanctuary Hills, it was perfect.    

[hancocksbitch]

They may take our lives,

but they’ll never take our FLUFF!

[willinglyghoulified]

Just a cute tidbit from my fanfiction, Bombs on Monday Morning (Book 1 of my Fallout 4 fanfiction series) that I really enjoyed.

The door led out to a balcony of sorts. It was raining, but at least it was daylight; this would make traveling easier. At the top of this building, we had a perfect view of the Commonwealth in all its devastation. Somehow, it was still beautiful.

“Well, now, ain’t this a rare treat,” Hancock said with his hands on his hips and smiling out at the view. He took a deep breath through the hole that would be his nose and sighed. “Just smell that Commonwealth rain. It’s the simple pleasures in life.”

The wind whipped at my face and chilled me to the bone.

Hancock lit a cigarette and sat down on the ledge. “Seriously, though. There was somethin’ off about that Courser. Had to be.”

“Yeah. I don’t want to think about it right now. I’ll start getting... paranoid.”

“Well, we still gotta figure out a way to get that chip decoded. Wanna see if Amari can help?”

“Yeah. We’ll head out in a bit. I don’t want Jenny to feel like we’re hovering. Besides, I kind of like the view.”

He turned and raised an eyebrow at me. “What part of the view.”

I laughed. “Don’t make me push you off the ledge.”

He chuckled back at me. “Ya know, I feel like we’ve been seein’ eye to eye. Makes me ask the question: you ready to learn about chems?”

“And miss out on all this view due to being stoned out of my mind? No thanks.”

“It’s not gonna dull your senses, Gwen. It’s gonna enhance them. Trust me.” He flicked his cigarette off the ledge, not even half smoked. “Here, I’ll do it with ya.”

I huffed at sat down next to him. “Okay, what am I doing?” I asked with no enthusiasm.

“We’re gonna start you off with something nice and easy. but something that’s gonna make this view look ten times better.” He went through his pockets until he found an inhaler. “Jet.”

To show me how it worked, he pressed the little inhaler’s button down and breathed in deeply. Oddly enough, his speech became slightly faster than before as he told me it was my turn to try.

At first, I didn’t want to chance it. But I reminded myself that I trusted him, and he was sort of an expert on this like this. What was I afraid of? I took the inhaler from him, and, swallowing my fear, breathed in my own hit of Jet.

Everything slowly sharpened in contrast. Time seemed to move at a crawl. I looked out at the view, and everything seemed so serene, like a still painting. I could almost see the prismatic colors of the rainbow in the rays of sunlight peeking through the parting clouds. Each drop of rain fell so slowly in front of my face and looked clear as crystal.

“Who-o-oa-a-a,” I said, and my voice was slow and deep. Then I giggled what sound like the most masculine giggle I’ve ever made, and I laughed even more.

Hancock laughed with me, “You-u-u’re ge-e-etti-i-in’ i-i-it, no-o-ow-w-w.”

I could enjoy the view for a few more seconds before it wore off. It didn’t last as long as I thought it would.

“How was that for a first time?” he asked, his voice seemingly back to normal along with everything else.

“Yeah... That wasn’t so bad.” I shot him a sheepish grin.

“Told ya.”

I shivered in the rain. As I was about to get up and get back into my Power Armor, Hancock draped his coat over my shoulders. I shot him a surprised look. My expression must have been a sight because he laughed at me. I looked back out at the view, heat rising in my cheeks and ears.

I side-eyed him with the intention of saying something but stopped short.

He was gazing at me with glassy, black eyes — the kind of eyes that demanded full attention.

I smiled and muttered, “Thanks...”

“No problem.”

Without permission, without warning, I scooted closer to him so I could lean my head on his shoulder. He was incredibly warm. “Naturally hot-blooded,” as he had called it.

At first, his body stiffened as I gently leaned on him. After a moment or two, he relaxed. And he put his arm around me. And he laid his head on mine.

What am I doing? I asked myself, but the only answer I could give myself was that I was doing what felt natural. Hancock was warm, comforting, and inviting. He kept my mind at ease.

We sat like that for a while longer, and for a while longer, I allowed myself to stay calm and relaxed before I had to continue the journey to find my son.

[dazed-and-confused23]

Masterlist

A link to my AO3 -> HERE

Dear Hearts and Gentle People

Summary: Snapshots into the life of a ghoul and his run ins with a wondering trader.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings! Smut and fluff violence throughout the works

Part 1. Part 6. Part 11. Part 16. Part 21

Part 2. Part 7. Part 12. Part 17

Part 3. Part 8. Part 13. Part 18

Part 4. Part 9. Part 14. Part 19

Part 5. Part 10. Part 15. Part 20

Other Cooper Howard x Reader fics

Blood on My Hands

Opportunities. Part 2

Wouldn't Be Nice

Cooper Howard x Lucy Oneshots

Act Naturally part 2. Part 3. Part 4

Golden Rule

Ladyfingers

Other Oneshots

Assumption - John Hancock x Reader

For Better or for Worse - Charon x Reader

[sinisterexaggerator]

Hard Feelings

Hancock x Fem! Sole Survivor / Reader Insert

(AO3)

Summary: You are the General of the Minutemen. Hancock is your companion when out on missions. It's all fun and games until there are hard feelings at play, the ghoul thinking that one day you just might leave him.

Warnings: NSFW / 18+ for PiV sex, public sex (sort of), MAKEUP sex, switching, praise kink, heavy petting and kissing, fingering, biting, angst, a small domestic dispute, and negative thoughts and feelings associated with oneself (Hancock). In this fic, Hancock displays golden retriever boyfriend energy, and he is more submissive. He also experiences low self-worth, and feelings of inadequacy, which leads to doubt. At some point, he has a panic attack.

Notes: Another fanfic that is completely self-indulgent. I was inspired when I took Hancock to the Starlight Drive-In for the Minutemen mission. We were briefly separated when I (sole) climbed onto the roof of the movie screen. Hancock ran around down below in a panic, thus this idea blossomed; I mention it in this post. I stole Teeth's nickname for Hancock: Hanni. ;D )

Word count: 4.7k+

A gentle peal of thunder rocked the night, just hours from daybreak, the eerie green glow of your pre-war Pip-boy casting its luminescence across the present object of your interest: a sullied movie poster. It was curling at its edges, the faded face of a starlet frozen in time with her mouth agape having snatched your attention, for better or worse, as this potential settlement had yet to be explored—there was no telling what lurked out there among the shadows.

Rita Jean Scarlett was staring into the eyes of not man, but insect, The Barfly calling out to you from a bygone era. It was an Old World tale of weird science gone wrong, filled with hubris and lessons learned all too late. Not too far off from the reality of things, you mused, though meant as fiction, actor Chip Weathers having adorned the costume of the “ghastly” monster for his starring role. 

The creature had bulbous eyes and sticky clawed feet, yet wore a suit and hat. Once considered the stuff of nightmares, now things like this seemed to you like child’s play. You regularly joined in the company of ghouls; robots; synthetic humans, and even super mutants. You faced adversaries on the daily that would make prey animals of yesteryear look like teddy bears—an unnerving thought, but it caused you to smile regardless. 

“What are you grinnin’ about?” a curious voice asked, the creak of worn red leather signaling his closeness; two thin arms encircled you, pitted hands smoothing over skintight, extruded rubber, shiny as the ghoul’s black eyes.

“Just about how things that used to be science fiction are now science fact,” you offered vaguely, casting a glance downward to the sight of yourself being molested, Hancock groping your tit—like any typical man—before it maneuvered lower, gliding over your belly to dip between your thighs.

“Hancock!” you breathed, your pulse quickening, loins already beginning to throb as blemished fingers stroked the line of your vault suit, teasing you at its seam. 

“Hmm?” he hummed, ignoring the tone in which he had been addressed. He asked another question, even as he continued to fondle you sans mercy.  

“Things like me?” 

Hancock was unhurried, enjoying the sleek texture of the glossy fabric against the underside of his thumb. He was positive he was making you wet, wondering how long you might last before you were begging him to fuck you, just like a few hours previous.

However, his query caught you off guard, your mind preoccupied as your palm came to rest over John’s explorative hand, holding it firm, the ghoul taking liberty with your breasts again, cupping one’s shape to give it a squeeze.

“Things that shouldn’t exist? Like that monster up there who thinks he’s human,” he growled silkily, finely wrinkled digits pinching your pebbled nipple through that damnable suit that left nothing to the imagination, John’s prick hardening against the back of your leg.

“You might say that,” you replied without thinking, thoughts clouded with pleasure that would all too suddenly end, so careless was your answer that the ghoul recoiled.

“Really,” John flatly returned, as if for some reason not at all surprised, his warm, gentle touch leaving you longing, confused as to why he was beginning to walk away.

You turned from the ticket booth, staring after your lover as he kicked a loose rock across asphalt; it bounced, ricocheting off an overturned cigarette machine. Hancock pretended to be engrossed in the diner just up ahead, a part of the Starlight Drive-In theater, you both having been warned about raiders before traveling here.

“Hancock.” You followed closely behind; he did not pay you any mind, as if he had not heard you, acting about as mature as a spoiled child who was giving you the dreaded silent treatment.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you claimed, though it was the truth. To be asked that question to begin with seemed like he was fishing for flattery, but who were you to deny the charismatic Mayor of Goodneighbor a harmless stroke to his ego, especially when he meant so much to you.

“Is that where the “might” part comes in?” he snapped, his tone irritated; it was becoming obvious that he had not expected you to agree with him on such matters, the conversation quickly devolving. 

“Is this our first fight? Are we fighting?” you asked, Hancock’s beady eyes narrowing beneath his hairless brow at the flippant way you were brushing off his feelings, or so he thought. 

“Look, if you don’t want to travel with a ghoul, why didn’t you just say so— got better things I could be doing,” he groused, namely chems with his name on them. 

“Is that so? Well, far be it from me to stop you from doing those better things,” you returned, not understanding why he couldn’t just forgive you for something said in passing.

“Always a smart ass,” he complained, as if Hancock himself wasn’t guilty of using his fair share of sarcasm.

Had you not been so heated, you may have remembered just how self-conscious the sociable, charming mayor actually was. His confidence was partially a façade, though he wasn’t one to normally bring down a mood with his own insecurities. Being the introspective sort meant that Hancock wasn’t afraid to get to the heart of things, even at the cost of his own self-esteem. 

John had even allowed you in, being vulnerable by sharing details of his sorrowful past; it was no secret the ending had been bittersweet, if not unhappy. His own appearance had sickened him; he found it hard to believe a gal like you wanted anything to do with him, much less desire to share a bed together, especially since he wasn’t exactly a looker by human standards.

Perhaps you had failed to give him reassurance when it was needed, though temporarily blinded by your temper. Instead of trying to clear things up, you made it worse. 

“You’d be one to know,” you baited.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Hancock shot back, droplets of rain beginning to descend toward the ground.

“You know what? Go over there, check that place out.” You gruffly dismissed him, pointing toward the diner. “I think we both need some time to cool off,” you added, voice sounding less than amicable toward the man whose forehead lurched, as if he had been punched in the gut. 

“Yeah? Fine.” John’s feelings were hurt more by this simple demand than anything you had said thus far, Hancock behaving like a scolded puppy whose owner had treated it unfairly.

You shook your head as you watched him march away, Hancock’s red frock coat glistening thanks to a now steady sprinkle. You sighed, turning toward a slew of rusting, run-down autos, spying a shed somewhere in the distance—you hoped it had a crafting station, as your orders from Preston Garvey were clear.

---

No raiders were present, only mole rats and radroaches. Hancock had kept his distance at your request, though you weren’t so oblivious that you failed to notice the way he routinely hovered only a stone’s throw away. The ghoul was caught basking in your shadow more than once, stealing glimpses, a frown pulling down the edges of his thin-lipped mouth. Yet he would move along the moment you laid your eyes on him, as if embarrassed, not wishing to be the victim of your ire.  

Overall, he seemed to be taking things about as well as you had hoped, though he had technically been the one to start it. You weren’t a mind reader, either, refusing to try and decipher his body language despite the moping, waiting for a time you felt more at ease.

Although, it undeniably tugged at your heartstrings—knowing he was suffering in some capacity—but you kept a clear head, focusing on the task at hand—building a radio relay tower from spare parts in order to reach out to others, reclaiming the theater in the name of the Minutemen with the sole purpose of making the Commonwealth a better place, one settlement at a time.

It was when another accursed mole rat burst forth from its earthy den that you yelped in surprise, drawing your double-action revolver almost a moment too late. With teeth nipping at your toes, you shot the beast, Hancock having dashed to your aid.

You glanced back at him, rattled; he seemed satisfied knowing you weren’t hurt, though his gaze lingered, as if there was something on the tip of his tongue. 

After a moment, he asked, “Can we talk?”

“Not right now.” You shook yourself off, taking a deep breath to assist in the slowing of your pulse. You returned to your workstation, deciding it wasn’t appropriate to address any more personal issues at this juncture—you both had a job to do.

“Sure, got it,” Hancock said grouchily, the ghoul wandering off to continue sifting through various piles of refuse for any usable materials to add to your haul, though inside it felt as if gnarled fingers were cinching tightly around his heart. Anxiety was welling within him, as not being on good terms with you did not sit right; beneath the surface, he was a troubled bundle of nerves, though he did not want to rush you by any means.

If only you knew about the disturbing thoughts that were crawling up John’s brainpan, slithering through the cracks to possess his mental faculties, feeding them fear; unsurety, outwardly expressed by way of a sour attitude. So involved was he with the many voices collecting in his head, that he failed to notice when you had finished installing the relay tower, your instincts guiding you to the Starlight Drive-in’s once magnificent three-story screen.

You took the stairs, moving past a shoddy door to climb to the top. The sun was newly risen, a fine mist hanging over the expansive parking lot, rays of light from your planet’s star casting a beautiful glow along remnants of grass, present in patches, though the area was plagued by the contamination of rads—another item on your to-do list. 

You were enjoying the view when you observed Hancock poking around the last place he’d seen you, determining you were in a better mood and willing to talk. You had planned to call out to him when you saw him run the other way, circling the diner, and then the first place you had gathered—the ticket booth where you had exchanged unpleasantries. 

Confused, you continued your study of his erratic behavior, wondering if there was some unknown enemy skulking about, yet Hancock had no weapon drawn, his gait all at once frantic and without rhyme or reason, the ghoul seeming to have no particular destination in mind. 

“Hancock?” you asked yourself quietly, baffled at how John was going insofar as to peek inside doorless cars, or even under them, kicking into a full-fledge run as he made his way toward your perch. He wasn’t paying heed to anything that wasn’t at ground-level, failing to notice you up high above.

“Han—” you were enthralled, the ghoul almost as fast as a feral, which was a less than comforting thought, watching as John ran a lap around the base of the screen. 

You followed, pushing off the railing to walk the few short steps to the opposite side, catching him turn the corner as he looped back around. It wasn’t until you heard his panicked breathing and the terrified whisper of your name that you completely understood, gut clenching as Hancock came to a disconcerting stop. 

The poor thing looked to be having a meltdown, head darting to the left and right, though the only thing visible to you was the top of his tricorn hat. He began to pace, first one direction, and then another, not keeping to east or west, but zigzagging as if he couldn’t decide where to go, or what to do. 

He called your name again, this time louder, sounding more distressed. You could not tear your eyes away as Hancock fell to his knees, fingers digging into soft dirt as the ghoul appeared to be in the throes of a panic attack.

Was he—

Spurred to action, you turned toward the way you came in, quick to rush down the stairs as swiftly as your legs could carry you. You sprinted around the bend of the building, nearly bumping into an abandoned cooking station off to your right, skirting it in the nick of time; you passed behind the structure, witness to a heartbreaking sight.

“Hey,” you whispered, Hancock having pushed himself back against the wall, knees to chest. The ghoul was tightly hugging his own legs, his marred face buried in the folds of his coat.

You weren’t sure what was happening, or why, only that he seemed deeply upset he could not find you, not expecting your brief absence would have such a negative effect. The ghoul was mumbling words you could not discern as you tiptoed forward, bending down to his level to address his huddled form.

“Hanni?” you asked gently, calling him by a pet name you had given him so long ago, John’s head shooting up, onyx eyes glistening, though you dare not think he had shed tears on your behalf. 

Hancock gazed at you, his expression a mix of sadness, incredulity, and stark relief. You placed a hand on his shoulder, concern marking your features, John not budging from his half-fetal position. 

“I thought—" he began, voice cracking, words quavering with an emotion you could not quite define, “—I thought you’d skipped out on me,” he offered pathetically, the amount of hurt present in his eyes enough to make you feel as if you deserved to die. So devastating was the look plastered across his handsome, ghoulish face that you wanted to cry, moving to cup his ruined cheek in the crux of your palm.

“Why would I do that?” you asked, tone soft but firm, staring at your reflection within gorgeous, dark depths, as if the answer lay hidden somewhere deep inside them.

“Because I don’t deserve you; because you can do better than me,” he answered without hesitation, “because who would want to be stuck with this ugly mug; wouldn’t wish it on my own worst enemy,” he finished flatly, Hancock’s dispirited disposition arising from being rejected—that’s not to say he blamed you.

“Didn’t wanna talk, ignoring me, couldn’t find you—just figured you were through,” he continued, tone solemn, making you feel awful. 

You had deeply sinned to make this man react in such a manner—that was your first thought, Hancock’s gloomy mood permeating your defenses. All the walls you had in place came tumbling down, feeling nearly sick to your stomach as you scooched forward, prompting Hancock to drop his knees, legs finding even ground.

“No,” you berated, “none of that is true.” You shifted, straddling the ghoul, your other hand joining its partner to cradle his jaw opposite. “I won’t leave you,” you pledged, placing a kiss atop his furrowed mouth. “The thought never even crossed my mind.”

Hancock searched your face; he expelled a dejected sigh, breathing out through the hollow cavity that once housed his human nose. “You—you’re the best thing I’ve got. I don’t want to lose you, sunshine. I’d be dead in a ditch somewhere if it weren’t for you, hopped up on chems,” he admitted, hanging his head. “But don’t think I would blame you for hittin’ the road. I’d manage, somehow. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to make do, so just say the word. Don’t feel obligated to stick around.” 

“Is that what you think? That I would abandon you? That I would get sick of you? That I don’t want you here by my side? Hancock—” you emphasized, running your thumb over the curve of his ear, forcing him to look squarely at you with a gentle redirection, “—I mean it when I say I love you,” you lamented, kissing his raised flesh. “Please, don’t doubt me.” 

John lifted his head with your help, the concave divot residing front and center brushing lightly across your cheek. He presented you with a kiss this time, his cock enlivening beneath you, unable to help his arousal at the admission of your heartfelt words. 

“I won’t, not anymore,” he promised, another kiss administered, and then another, returning each touch of his lips with one of your own until they picked up in fervor, Hancock’s sly tongue subtly snaking its way between your teeth. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” you cooed, warm, wet muscles intertwining in an orchestrated dance that rekindled the deep-seated ache of your loins. 

“You listen so well,” you needled playfully; you had the ghoul’s number, knowing just what made him tick.

Hancock moaned a sound of gratitude, your impromptu praise causing his prick to flex, lean, wilted fingers creeping forward to place themselves deliberately along your thighs; they ran up the dips in your hips, and smoothed over the shape of your waist.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Hancock grated between avid swirls. His cock was riding up against your slinky blue vault suit—like liquid latex poured to conform to your body, it fit tight as a glove.

John held no complaints, only that you were still wearing it. Fortunately, you had ideas. 

“Being such a good boy for me,” you teased, your own hands roving, exploring the contours of his slender chest and waist, sweeping back and forth; you hooked his partially corroded throat, carefully capturing Hancock between the crook of your palm, thumb trailing his Adam’s apple in a light caress. 

“Not sure you know what that does to me,” he purred, the ghoul at your mercy as you gyrated your hips, your own sex succinctly aligned as you massaged his erection through faded black slacks.  

“Are you so sure?” you asked, grinning into your kiss, one of Hancock’s hands sneaking along synthetic fibers for three fingers to stroke the underside of your jumper. He pushed up only slightly, cupping your mound; you felt it in your core, a subdued moan breathed straight into the ghoul’s mouth—Hancock was so turned on, it was a wonder he didn’t just nut right then and there.

“You teasin’ me, sunshine?” John panted, groping your breast, digits fingering stitchwork; you bit down on your bottom lip as you reached for the clasp at the front of your collar.

“Get this off me,” you instructed, fumbling with the pull of your zipper.

“Is that a request?” Hancock asked cheekily, though he did not expect an answer.

“An order,” you responded, feigning authority, Hancock doing as he was told, though there was a hint of a smile crawling up the side of his face. 

“Yes, ma’am,” the ghoul chortled wryly, watching as you shed your suit like a second skin. You ushered it past the arc of your shoulders, the slopes of your breasts, to the base of your hips, leaving yourself half naked and assailable; John was unable to help his amorous stare.

“You’re so beautiful,” he declared, moving to knead doughy flesh, mouth finding your throat; Hancock sucked the sweat off your flawless skin, his other hand working its way underneath what was left of your vault suit, two fingers dipping into your already soaked cunt. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, slipping in and out, thumb pushing itself between the folds of your labia to rub your throbbing bud. 

“Yes, let’s,” you returned, swirling your hips, riding Hancock’s thick fingers as you clumsily moved to untie the flag wrapped about his narrow waist. 

“Right here?” he asked, perplexed. Though not one to argue, being out in the open without cover was dangerous; he knew better than anyone the risks of the Wastes. 

“I want you,” you answered, as if that in and of itself was all he needed to hear. You knew there might be consequences, but at that moment, your hormones were the ones in charge, a sharp gasp escaping as John’s fingers curled against the anterior wall of your sex.

“I’m all yours, love, forever,” Hancock vowed, following your example. He hastily unbuckled his pants after releasing your tit with reluctance, pushing apart the flaps to withdraw his glaring hard on; precum was already seeping out the slit at its head. 

“Promise me,” you insisted, lifting up off your thighs—and Hancock’s fingers—to shimmy the rest of your suit down toward your knees. It might be a little awkward, but you were too desperate to care, taking up the ghoul’s girth in the breadth of your palm.

“Cross my heart and hope to—” 

“Don’t you dare,” you protested, shoving your tongue back into John’s mouth, guiding his cock inside you. You sank down onto your haunches, inch by delicious inch, his variegated shaft filling you full up.

Then, the ghoul went rigid. “But sunshine, what about—” 

“Shhh, that’s it,” you whispered, though Hancock hadn’t done anything to warrant a reprimand. It was your own descent that had you crooning, dipping forward to feel that delightful pressure snug against your walls. 

“Not sure you wanna end up like—”

“—I took one a few hours ago, remember?” The darling man was more concerned with your well-being than even you; you could physically feel the tension leaving his body, John relieved to know you had things under control.

“You do love me,” you stated breezily, flicking the tip of your tongue inside the helix of the ghoul’s ear; Hancock shuddered, both his hands returning to your hips, touch featherlight, prompting you to press your palms against the partition behind him to prop yourself up on either side of his head.

“Wouldn’t mind you turnin’ Ghoul,” he replied throatily, thinkin’ spending an eternity with you sounded like the best damn thing a guy could ask for. 

Hancock watched with bated breath as you rose up to enshroud him in your shadow, breasts level with his eyes. He groaned his appreciation, seizing your right nipple between puckered lips, John’s bony hips pushing up against the round of your ass. The ghoul sucked diligently, dull nails clawing gingerly into supple, human flesh, incapable of keeping a straight face.

“What was all that about not doubting each other?” John huskily reminded you, the point of his tongue flitting against your sensitive skin. He returned to suckling, as if a babe latched to nurse, the hand left idle finally slipping down your thigh. Hancock spread your lower lips apart with the underside of two fingers, a third taking its place atop your thrumming clit, engorged with blood. 

“Shut up,” you urged, wanting him to belay speaking for fear the moment might spoil, Hancock grunting in indignation before he bit down lightly on your nip. 

You gasped a broken breath, cunt rising to the head of his cock. You dropped back down; Hancock bottomed out, sequestered in the deepest part of you, snug as anything, the ghoul hypnotized by your pretty writhing. 

“Why don’t you make me.” Hancock intensified the patient revolutions of blotched fingers, dragging you down by compressing your cheeks with his thumb and index; you slumped your shoulders just enough, angling to meet his current height, tossing your arms about John’s neck to humor him with another passionate kiss.

“Done.” You rocked forward, feeling Hancock’s sizeable member immured to its base. Indecent sounds kept each other company, the squish of your conjoined loins combining with the wet, obscene spirals of your whorling tongues. It wouldn’t take much longer to climax, your slick cunt tightening its grip on John’s rock-hard cock. 

The ghoul’s chest heaved between ragged breaths, Hancock practicing his self-control. He didn’t want to cum until you did, sliding his palm up to carefully cradle the small protrusion distending your lower abdomen. 

Feeling the outline of himself inside you was nearly too much to handle, a visible tremor preceding what was to be an early warning.

“I-I can’t hold back, angel.”

“Wait,” you countered, guiding the ghoul’s head toward your breasts, driving his noseless face into your cleavage; Hancock’s tricorn shifted backward as he followed your lead. He vested himself in the cocoon of your limbs,  moaning his approval, grabbing onto a fistful of ass as your back arched in pleasure. 

You opened your eyes to gaze at the sky—it was pale blue and cloudless, for once.

You came hard, the flat of John’s palm supporting your spine as you released your ecstasy to the heavens, the ghoul’s tepid seed discharging in spurts to paint your inner walls white; his ejaculate had been offered as payment for your lovely little song.

The ghoul felt overwhelmed and full of deep affection for you; Hancock’s teeth bore down on beautiful, unblemished skin; he broke capillaries, drawing your blood to the surface, leaving his mark in the form of a dark red welt. 

You gasped at the bite, Hancock ensconcing you tightly in his arms, both of you allowing your orgasms to run their course. His grip was a comfortable vise, brittle nails burrowing into lithe flesh with almost paradoxical tenderness; John was always so careful with you.

From an outsider’s perspective, the embrace of a ghoul meant certain death, with the expectancy you would be rent into unrecognizable pieces. Such a pose as you presented now was questionable, one that evoked alarm from bystanders, settlers who had followed the beacon to their new home, expecting to find the general of the Minutemen, but not like this.

“Ghoul!” someone shouted; you heard the shuffling of leather, the clink of metal.

“No!” you yelled, protecting your lover with the entirety of your body, encapsulating his slight frame. You shielded his vitals with your bare back, hunkering down to speak to these newcomers over the peak of your shoulder. 

“He’s not feral!” you growled, hating that you had to defend him, knowing how John must feel at this moment as he gazed up at you with surprised, wide eyes. You cared not that a horde of people had seen you naked; you only cared for Hancock, determined to preserve him and all his parts.

In reality, the ghoul was seconds from tears, knowing—without a doubt—that you had meant what you said. You were guarding his wretched life with your own without question, willing to die to keep him from harm, just as he gladly would have sacrificed himself to see you live another day. 

A day, he thought, that might have been better off without him, but now he was glad to be alive (in some form or another), swallowing hard against the knot in his throat, eyes never once leaving your impassioned face.

“We’re together; we came here together, and we will leave here together, do I make myself clear?”

A person stepped forward, separating themselves from the crowd. “Yes, General,” they said, having fortunately, or rather unfortunately, recognized you.

With a sigh of relief, those gathered departed. John practically smothered you, so forceful was his hug that it nearly choked the air from your lungs. 

Hancock didn’t know what he’d done to get someone like you, and he was afraid to ask. If there were any powers at be—something, or someone—watching over him, he supposed he’d owe them one, but for now he was more than happy to count his blessings. And the sad thing was, everything, all of it, could be a dream—or one long, hallucinatory chem-trip. If this turned out to be nothing but a fucked up Jet flashback, he’d just as soon never wake up. 

“I’ll follow you to the end of the Wastes,” Hancock blurted, voice strained and rasping, fingers; arms; chest tightening as he spoke against soft tufts of hair. “You and me together, the world ain’t got a prayer.”

Despite what had just transpired, you cradled him against the bow of your neck, oblivious to the inner workings of his mind, only wishing to absorb him, for him to live in the space between your ribs that stored your heart. All you wanted was to keep him safe for all time, knowing that he deserved the world, though the ghoul would most certainly outlive you. 

It was a melancholy thought, if ever one existed, but you did not allow your mind to dwell. “Sweet man,” you murmured, “it doesn’t stand a chance in hell.”

—-

Fallout Masterlist

[iwritefandomimagines]

NOT GOING ANYWHERE — JOHN HANCOCK

masterlist

pairing: john hancock x reader

description: you couldn’t be happier with the life you’ve built in goodneighbor with john. when a handsome stranger makes your acquaintance at the third rail, though, your beloved mayor needs just a little reminding that you’re all his.

warnings: tooth rottin’ fluff baby !!! bit of swearing as per. of course the handsome stranger is coop !

author’s note: this was a request i HAD to start immediately so thank you so much for it and sorry it took a while. john hancock deserves the world and you, dear reader, wanna give it to him here <3 enjoy!

———

“What’s a pretty little smoothie like you doin’ in these parts?”

At the sound of the gruff voice beside you, you had to fight off the deep, frustrated sigh that threatened to escape your lips.

It’s not like you didn’t get asked that same question every time a newbie swung into town, but it was growing increasingly boring of late.

You’d been living here over a year now, and at least nine months of that time had been spent practically attached to the mayor’s hip.

Hancock had been enamoured with you as soon as he met you, and for once you felt that his attentiveness was genuine — not just the usual curiosity about your past or your once evident naivety about the world.

That naivety was gone, now, anyway.

“I live here,” you replied, swirling the bourbon around in your glass as you looked up at the man who’d situated himself at your side, “Home sweet home.”

He was handsome, undoubtedly, a cowboy hat hung on his head and a smirk beset on his face as his dark eyes flashed over your frame.

He chuckled, leaning up onto the bar and signalling to Charlie — who immediately got busy pouring him a drink.

“Surprising, saw a pretty little thing like you as more the Diamond City type,” he took a sip of his fresh drink, “Not slummin’ it here with folks like me.”

You scoffed at that, “New around here then?”

“Just passing through,” he hummed, “Couldn’t waste a chance to talk to ya, could I?”

It was at that moment that you saw Hancock descend the stairs, and you breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Sorry to say it, but your flirting is a little rusty,” you chuckled, “Besides, I’m spoken for.”

He turned around now, a hearty laugh escaping him as his eyes locked with Hancock’s — the latter now just metres in front of him.

“Oh, maybe slummin’ it was underestimating it, heh,” he swirled his drink in his glass, “Here I am forgettin’ my manners and trying it on with Mrs fuckin’ Mayor of Goodneighbor.”

Hancock rolled his eyes, “Like you’ve ever had any manners, Howard.”

“Well I had been hopin’ to ask you about the sweet thing I’ve heard you’d been so taken by, hm,” his eyes scanned over you again, drinking you in, “My mistake for hitting on her first.”

Hancock’s arm swung to hook around your waist protectively, and you looked between the pair, “You know each other?”

“We’ve crossed paths a fair bit,” they didn’t seem as frosty as you’d feared when you asked that question, so you were relieved that the hint of tension appeared to be based on the new ghoul’s advances as opposed to any previous issues.

“Well, it was nice meeting you…” you trailed off, realising that in your short lived conversation you hadn’t learned the ghoul’s name.

“Y’can call me Cooper. Coop if you like,” he side-eyed the mayor with another chuckle, “Though I s’pose your mayor wouldn’t be too fond’a that.”

You shook your head, again leaning close to Hancock to kiss his cheek. His grip on your waist loosened just a smidgen at this action as he seemingly relaxed.

“Hm, well if you don’t mind, we’ve got some stuff to do.”

“Oh, I’ll bet you do. See ya’round.”

You looped your arm through Hancock’s now, smiling at the other Third Rail inhabitants as you made your way back to the Old State House beside a grumbling Hancock.

You could see he looked frustrated, his teeth gritted and his eyes barely leaving the floor as he navigated to your room.

“I leave you alone for two minutes and Cooper fuckin’ Howard is trying to hit on you,” he shook his head, “Lucky I came back when I did.”

You stopped for a moment, just before you were both about to settle down on the couch, “What, y’think his god awful flirting would’ve worked on me if you hadn’t?”

He shrugged, slumping down and pocketing the jet he’d been contemplating taking. He figured now wasn’t the time.

“Hancock, seriously,” you frowned, settling beside him and cuddling into his side, “You don’t need to worry about that kinda thing. Really.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Sweetheart, it ain’t hard to see you’re out of my league. Can’t help worrying you’ll skip out on me sometime.”

It broke your heart to hear him talk like that — Hancock was the best thing that had ever happened to you, and there was no chance in hell you’d give him up if you could help it.

“That’s not gonna happen, like ever,” you cooed, “I’m so happy here, with you. Goodneighbor is home… You’re home, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He seemed briefly satisfied by this, but the slight pout still remained on his face, “I know, sugar, I know. Just hard to believe I lucked out this much. Howard’s right, you shouldn’t be slumming it here with us.”

You heaved out a deep sigh, “I’m not slumming it here, though. Goodneighbor might be dysfunctional, but I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else. We got a good thing going here.”

“We do, don’t we,” he leaned into your touch now as you cuddle in close to him, “‘M sorry, sunshine. You’re right.”

You pressed a kiss to the rough skin of his cheek, “I love you. No amount of flirting from some random irradiated cowboy is gonna stop that.”

He chuckled now, “Oh, really?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, reaching up to pull his hat from his head and place it on your own, “I much prefer my men in a tri-corn hat.”

“And I resent that my girl looks so much better in said tri-corn hat than I do,” he licked his lips, eyes scanning over your entire figure.

You’d never get over the way that, as impossibly dark as his eyes were anyway, they always seemed to darken just that little more when he took you in, permanently twinkling in adoration.

“Nuh uh,” you shook your head, immediately replacing the hat on his head, “Not even remotely true. I’m one lucky girl.”

The sing-song lull of your voice made his heart swell, and he found himself almost more dazed than he’d have been after the hit of jet he’d long forgotten about wanting.

He reached to pull you into his lap by the waist, smiling into a kiss as you curled into his lap just as he’d hoped you would.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” his rough hands caressed the curve of your jaw now, “No wonder sons of bitches like Cooper Howard are droolin’ all over you. You’re an absolute dream.”

His touch sent goosebumps across your skin as you smiled so wide your cheeks almost ached, “Hm, you may have told me that once or twice.”

“Just so damn pretty,” he murmured, his insecurities bubbling back up for just a moment, “And stuck up to this ugly mug every day.”

You pulled back briefly, pouting down at him from your position in his lap as you shook your head.

It broke your heart that, even when assured of how you felt, he still worried your feelings were somehow stunted by the way he looked.

“Baby, there’s no face I’d rather wake up to,” you hummed, pressing gentle kisses to every inch of irradiated skin on his face.

You were sure that if he was still capable of doing so, he’d be blushing crimson.

You finally reached his lips again, giving them one gentle kiss before showcasing a big toothy grin again, “If anything, I feel like I’m dreaming. Luckiest girl in the commonwealth.”

“Now you’re just being crazy,” he kissed the corner of your lips as you rolled your eyes, causing him to raise the space where his eyebrows once were, “You been at my stash of chems without telling me again?”

You shoved his arm playfully, “Me? Crazy? Never! Crazy ‘bout you, maybe!”

For a beat you were wordless, just giggling at your own cringeworthy line as you curled in closer to him.

You lived for moments like this — when all the hustle and bustle and danger of his life as mayor fell away for just a moment so that he was all yours to be completely yourselves together.

The giggling soon stopped though, replaced by your attempts to blink away sleep as you nestled closer to him.

It had been a long day, and the couple of bourbons you’d knocked back while waiting for Hancock’s working day to be over (well, not that he ever really took a moment from his duties besides when you were alone) had begun to make you sleepy.

All Hancock could do was smile as he tucked your yawning figure into his chest, kissing the top of your head.

“You get some sleep, sweetheart,” he scooped his arms beneath you to lift you over to your bed, “I love you.”

Your reply came out almost too incoherent to understand, the wave of sleepiness hitting you so suddenly and so hard that you could barely keep your eyes open to smile up at him.

“‘M in love wi- you,” you managed as you curled up, “C’mere ‘n’… cuddle. Need you.”

He laughed, his whole body warming at the sight and sound of you, “I’m not going anywhere, sunshine. Never.”

And as you fell asleep with a Cheshire Cat grin on your face, Hancock was certain he’d never been more in love.

———

um john hancock you’re the love of my life fr !!!!!! i hope this was okay, it’s a lil messy but i’ve been ill this weekend so it’s a bit short & written amidst kinda flu-ey delirium (i’ll inevitably come back to edit) but i hope you enjoyed — feel free to request more hancock/other fallout characters while i finish up NMFR pt.3 for u lovely people. and here’s my masterlist <3

[fandomfics]

The Trouble with Love

Part 2

Pairings: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x fem Reader, John Hancock x fem Reader

Description: After a mishap in the wasteland you are left to wonder if the ghouls you care for and have traveled with for years feel anything for you. The answers you find are not what you expected and leave you with more questions than answers.

Part 1

⚠️WARNINGS ⚠️

18+ only, MDNI

Fluff, Unprotected p in v, creampie, missionary, cowgirl, shower scene, overstimulation

You won't have to wait long to get to the good stuff 😉

You call Cooper to come into the room, pulling the thin sheet that you slept under close to you as you sit up. Your traveling companions had seen all of you before, you'd been walking the wastes for years together, modesty was a thing of the past, but you felt the need for some barrier for the conversation to come. 

He steps through the threshold and allows the door to close behind him as he makes his way to your side. The matress creaks when he lowers his frame to the edge without looking at you and begins to speak.

"I...uh... Spoke with John this mornin'." His face is hard to read below the brim of his hat. "He said it was complicated, and to let you just talk but I don't know if I have the heart to hear that you chose him."

"That's just it Coop, I don't want to choose." His eyes meet yours and your heart jumps into your throat. "I love you... I also love John. I have been trying to figure out how to deal with this but I want to be selfish. I want you both. I understand if you can't do this, and I won't protest if you want to leave us behind. I just..." You cast your gaze down, trying to search for the right words, after a moment he crooks his pointer finger under your chin and lifts it up until you meet his gaze, the softness in his eyes and smile isn't something you're used to from the gruff cowboy. He leans close and uses the other hand to push your hair behind your ear before closing the distance between your lips. He snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer, kissing you with a passion you didn't know he possessed, turning you into putty in his arms until he pulls away.  

"Darlin', if that's whacha want, I think we can oblige you." His tone conveys a hint of mischief and mystery, but at that moment, you don't care to ponder why and pull him into another kiss. He doesn't allow his hands to rove your body, like you know he wants to, he remains respectful, hands running through your hair as you melt into each other once more. 

Before long a devious thought crosses your mind and you pull away and lift yourself off of the bed, leaving the sheet behind, your naked form in full view "Sorry to cut this short, but I need to shower." You say with a wink, turning to head to the bathroom.

"You have a secret fuckin shower?!" Cooper says hurriedly following behind. 

You laugh, speeding to the door made to look like a bookshelf, opening it wide as he follows you in. His hungry eyes devour every inch of your wet body as you step under the faucet and he removes his clothing as quick as he possibly can to join you.

The moment he steps into the shower he grabs for the soap and quickly washes himself clean while you bask in the tepid water. Once he has rinsed the suds away he falls to his knees. It's clear he means to worship you. The rich lather of the handmade soap coats his hands, he grabs a foot and places it on his chest, slowly he runs his slick hands over your leg from the ankle up. Savoring every second, feeling every scar, when the water rinses the soap away he trails kisses up your leg, to your inner thigh before repeating the ritual on the opposite leg. This strangely sensual act of care shows you a softer side of the man beneath the ghoul and adds to the fire you feel for him at that moment. He brings himself to his feet once more and continues mapping your body, each arm, stomach, chest, and back. Every pass of his rough hand over your soft skin heightens your senses, every kiss adding more fuel to the fire, when he's finished you want to pounce on him, but you refrain. You want to show his body the same reverence, you want him to know your love is more than a quick fuck. 

You turn off the shower and towel yourselves dry before returning you the bed. He allows you to take charge, every direction you give he follows to a T. 

"Lay face down on the bed." He looks slightly perplexed but does as he's told. You find your special body oil in the drawer next to your bed, it's unlikely he's had this type of luxury in the last couple hundred years, but he deserves it. You straddle his ass and pour some of the golden liquid in your hands and emulsify it before spreading it on his grizzled skin. You knead the knots in his back and shoulders, slowly working out the decades of stress and pain. He groans beneath you, his body relaxing more as you work. 

"No one's treated me this nice since...well...before the war." He says softly as you finish massaging him and kiss his neck. He hums blissfully and turns to meet your gaze, raising an arm for you to fall into the bed at his side, allowing him envelope you. His lips meet yours and the fire blazing in your belly grows again. He's been hard, aching for you this entire time, and his cock twitches between you. Your needy body grinds against his and the small moans that you each let loose collide in your kiss. 

He rolls you onto your back and takes his place between your legs, slowly inserting the entirety of his length into your already wet pussy. He tucks his arms under you, one gripping your shoulder from behind while the other meanders through your hair and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. He steadily rolls his hips, boring into you hard but slow and you wrap your legs around him to angle yourself just right. 

He brings his head up to look into your eyes, not stopping the rhythm of his hips as he ruts into you. Every movement he makes is with great care as if your pleasure is the most important thing at this very moment, and nothing outside of this room exists. The glow of his eyes holds you captive, his gaze is intoxicating. 

While keeping his eyes firmly fixed on yours he flips onto his back, bringing you up to straddle him. His cock buries itself deeper with your full weight on him and you tilt your head back with a breathy moan. Pleasure builds in your core as you begin to bounce up and down. His full length fills you and you brace yourself with your hands on his chest tilting forward, his member hits just the right spot. You pick up speed and before you can say anything the dam breaks and you scream out. You fully ride the wave of pleasure to it's completion and shudder at its end. You start lift your self off of him to finish him off with your mouth when he grabs your hips and pulls you back down.

He reaches between your legs and lightly grazes your overstimulated clit with his thumb, causing you to twitch under his touch, spurring you to keep moving on top of him. 

"That's it darlin'." He purrs "I wancha ta cum again."

At his insistance you move your body again. Each brush of his finger against your clit sending bolts of overwhelming pleasure through you until you feel yourself teetering on the edge again.

"Coop, so... close..."

He watches your face intently as you Plunge into it, calling out his name. You slow once more as it ebbs away but he's almost there too. He bucks up hard until you feel the heat of his seed spread inside you and he lets out a gutteral moan. 

You lay your head on his chest, both panting, exhaustion consuming you. When you've caught your breath you roll off of him and onto your back. He turns on his side and palms your cheek before planting a loving kiss. You smile into the kiss and feel nothing but happiness. 

You cuddle into him and he holds you tight for a while, just enjoying the moment. 

"Ya know John and I used ta fuck, right?"

[olinblogin]

LIST OF FANDOMS I WILL/WON’T WRITE FOR

What fandoms I will write for;

-Lego Monkie Kid

-One Piece

-One Punch Man

-Assassination Classroom (limited characters)

-COD (call of duty, any game)

-ATSV (across the spiderverse)

-TADC (the amazing digital circus)

-Underverse/undetale AUs

-Br0kenColors

What fandoms i won’t write for;

-Genshin Impact/Honkai impact

-Seven Deadly Sins

-Obey Me/Obey Me nightbringer

-FNF (Friday night funkin)

-MHA (my hero academia)

-Hazbin Hotel/Helluva boss

-other fandoms that have problematic backgrounds

WHAT I WILL WRITE!!!

-platonic

-light angst

-fluff

-slightly suggestive content (will have a warning)

-smut content (will have a warning)

-childhood romance (no smut.)

-teen romance (no smut.)

-Reader x character

-character x character (very rarely)

-character x Reader x character

-polycules

-T4T (trans for trans relationships)

-F4F (femme for femme relationship)

-M4M (masc for masc relationship)

-F4TF (femme for trans femme)

-F4TM (femme for trans masc)

-F4TNB (femme for trans non binary)

-F4A (femme for any)

-M4TF (masc for trans femme)

-M4TM (masc for trans masc)

-M4TNB (masc for trans non binary)

-M4A (masc for any)

-LGBTQ content

-Yandere Content (not extreme)

WHAT I WILL NOT WRITE!!!

-r@pe/noncon/dubcon

-cnc (consensual non-consent)

-child x adult

-abusive scenarios

-anything to do with children involved in anything sexual

-racism

-ableism

-unsanitary fetishes (i.e. scat, wound f*cking, etc)

-severe angst

-s*icide & s*lf h*rn

Characters I’ll write for in each fandom

BR0KENCOLORS

—characters so far—

Stalker/Damon (usually Poly)

Deliver Guy/DG (usually Poly)

Rasmus

Angel

Shadowman (not much I for abt them, some nsfw - demisexual)

Gunther

Leevi

���characters not in game yet but I will write—

Ace (some nsfw - demisexual)

Catherine

Milkman

Milla (no nsfw)

Salvador (some nsfw - demisexual)

Mimic

Pearl

Venni

LEGO MONKIE KID

- MK (Qi Xioatian)

-Mei Dragon

-Redson

-Sun Wukong

-Six Eared Macaque

-Ao Lie

-Lady Bone Demon

-The Mayor

-Yin & Jin

-Princess Iron Fan (Poly)

-Demon Bull King (Poly)

-Tang

-Pigsy (platonic)

-Sandy (platonic)

-Nezha (platonic)

-Bai He (platonic)

ONE PIECE

- Monkey D. Luffy

-Vinsmoke Sanji

-Roronora Zoro

-Usopp

-Nico Robin

-Franky

-Chopper (platonic)

-Nami

-Jinbei

-Donquixte Doflamingo

-Donquixte Rosiante

-Bartolomeo Kuma

-Boa Hancock

-Dracule Mihawk

-Crocodile

-Shanks

-Rayleigh

-Portgaz D. Ace

-Marco

-Thatch

-Izou

-Edward Newgate, Whitebeard (platonic)

-Eustass Kidd

-Jewelry Bonney

-Killer

-Monkey D. Harp

-Monkey D. Dragon

-Sabo

-Trafalgar Law

-Buggy

-Smoker

-Rob Luci

-Eneru

-Kalifa

-Yamato

-Perona

-Shaci

-Penguin

-Bepo (platonic)

-Akainu

-Kizaru

-Borsalino

ONE PUNCH MAN

-Saitama

-Genos

-Garou

-King

-Child Emporer (platonic)

-Metal Bat

-Speed O’ Sound Sonic

-Mumen Rider

-Watchdog Man (mostly platonic)

-Fubuki

-Atomic Samurai

-Lord Boros

-Bang

-Zombieman

-Flashy Flash

-Sweet Mask

-Charanko

ASSASSINATION CLASSROOM

(Any students such as Nagisa or Karma are platonic)

-Koro-Sensei

-Tadaomi Karasuma

-Irina Jelavic

COD - CALL OF DUTY

-Simon “Ghost” Riley

-John “Soap” MacTavish

-John “Captain” Price

-Horangi (Hong-Jin)

-König

-Nikolai

-Valeria Garza/El Sin Nombre (F4F/NB/AFAB)

-Alejandro Vargas

-Phillip Graves

-Farah Karim

-Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

-Kate Laswell (F4F)

-Gary “Roach” Sanderson

ATSV - ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE

-Miles Morales (platonic/fluff)

-Gwen Stacy (Platonic/Fluff)

-Pavitr Prabhakar (platonic/fluff)

-Prowler Miles (platonic/fuff)

-Peter B. Parker

-Jess Drew

-Miguel O’Hara

-Hobie Brown

TADC - THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS

-Pomni

-Jax

-Zooble

-Kaufmo

-Ragatha

-Gangle

-Caine

-Kinger

UNDERVERSE / UNDERTALE AUS

-Ink!Sans (platonic)

-Classic!Sans

-Nightmare!Sans

-Dream!Sans

-Swap!Sans

-Fell!Sans

-Killer!Sans

-Dust!Sans

-Horror!Sans

-Murder Time Trio (Killer!Sans, Dust!Sans, Horror!sans)

-Error!Sans

-AT!Sans (Geno)

-Fatal Error

-X!Sans (Cross)

-Outer!Sans

-Reaper!Sans

-Fresh!Sans

IF YOU DID NOT SEE ANY CHARACTERS OF INTEREST AND YOU’D LIKE ME TO WRITE PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!!

please as well reread the will/won’t write section if you’re feeling unsure!