#john hancock x reader

[eupheme]

— Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On

Hancock (FO4) x Sole Survivor!F!Reader

Rated E - 5.8k

Tags - 3rd person very loose pov, sole survivor!f!reader (no descriptors), canon-typical raider violence & death, mutual pining, teasing, partners to lovers, two idiots in love, waiting out a storm, mention of food/eating, SS!reader gets dicked down wearing Hancock’s coat, the hat stays on, fingering, oral (f receiving), spitting, manual restraints, multiple orgasms, PiV, creampie, mention of a cigarette/smoking, references to chems 

started this while doing research for wasteland, baby - and was consumed with thoughts of a slightly softer “oh fuck, I’m in love” Hancock

It’s a dangerous thing - to have feelings for the person you’re traveling with. Too many things can go wrong in an instant and yet…  here they are. Steadfastly ignoring the something that has been building, thick enough to taste. 

Luckily, an incoming rad storm might just be the push they need. 

He’s fucked.

Figuratively, not literally. Unfortunately.

That’s part of the problem, if he could call it that. And he probably shouldn’t - because it’s not her fault. Just his. 

It was a rookie move, falling for his traveling companion. Should have kept it just professional - strictly business. No ‘get to know you’s, no inside jokes. 

But he had never been the professional type. Not his style. 

And somewhere along the way - between getting the shit kicked out of them, the close calls, the long miles of barren road - something had started to grow. Curling around his ribs and filling his guts up like ripe tarberries. 

Letting it grow and flourish. 

Unable to shake it. 

It hadn’t been long before he had known something was up.

That it was something besides that urge to get away from it all, to wander, that kept him sticking with her.

That along the way, the idea of this stranger having his back became comforting. That he knew he had hers - even if he half-thinks she have a death wish, with the way she rushs into things half-cocked.

He can’t understand, but he tries. The bits he’s gleaned from late nights - passing the bottle of whisky back and forth even though it makes her grimace. The pieces of her past that have slowly been revealed, forming a half-completed picture.

It’s enough to make his blood boil, that scorching feeling of vengeance curling in his chest, eating up his insides. It’s been a long time since he felt that way - making him think back to the night where he had stained his hands with all that red. 

He’d do it again, for her. 

It’s that realization made him think that just maybe - he cares.

And not just in a friendly kind of way. 

He thinks it began in the middle of a firefight.

Bullet whizzing past their heads. A nest of raiders flowing out from a jutting wreck of scaffolding they had missed.

Several downed already, lost among the ruins. A souped-up pistol in her hand, as the other shielded shrapnel from a hand-made grenade.

Missing the two that snuck up, flanking them. 

He had taken one down. A nasty shot to the gut, the Raider gurlging as his legs gave out. Her shot going wide - he can still remember the look on her face as she reached for the gun on her back.

The other Raider taking the moment to bowl him over, a padded shoulder to the chest. Knocking them both against a piece of metal fencing that creaked under their weight - his shotgun clattering to the pavement. 

An arm pressed against his throat, choking him - as the other fumbled for a knife. Ironic, he thought, that he’d be gutted, after all he’s done. 

But she had swooped down. Fingers twisted around the barrel and forestock of her rifle. Bringing it down on the raiders head like it was a louisville slugger, snarling like she herself had gone feral.

Her hand, warm in his as she hauled him up, the other splaying across his chest. Face streaked with grease and splattered with blood but in that moment, she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

“Thanks, sunshine.” He had murmured.

Her smile had been small, as she pressed the gun back into his hand, “Can’t have you getting stabbed. I’d miss that mouth of yours.”

Such a small thing - her own joke. The way he filled the space with chatter on the road. But he’d been smitten. 

He had been good looking, before. He wasn’t half-bad now. Charisma could get you a long way, and his silver tongue hadn’t rotted like the rest of him. 

Charming words - flirty and sometimes filthy - slid easily from him in the heat of battle, the wind-down after. When he was feeling good about things, the words coming without thought.

Choking on them, when she turned to give him a look - embarrassed, sometimes. So goddamn cute and flustered, it made him want to do it more. 

Other times - a look, that was soft and lingering. 

“Yeah?” 

Almost a challenge in the way she said it.

He could never follow it up. 

Follow through. 

Because back home, it wasn’t an issue. A rejection meant nothing other than a soft blow to his ego. Brushed off with a hit of a favorite indulgence, finding company in another.

But here - it had a weight. It could ruin something he truly has enjoyed. Throwing in with her had been one of the best decisions he had made. He couldn’t fuck that up. Not this time. 

So he swallowed his words - before she was racing off, and he was following at her heels. Off to trouble that could be their last, and here he was - that clever tongue tied in a knot. 

That’s when he knew that he had it bad. 

Bad enough that out of the two of them, he had been the one peering up at the sky overhead. Where the muted hazy grey was rolling into a sickly green, rain starting to drop down. A rumble of thunder.

The first to suggest stopping at the next place they could, as the spaces between the raindrops started to dwindle.

“We can make it.” She had shrugged, as his jog slowed to a walk.

Catching her arm at the elbow, gesturing with the muzzle of his shotgun to the side.

“Not if you don’t want to end up like me, sister.”

Ignoring - but not missing - the chastising look she shot him. His head tilting towards the roof that looms just over the ridge.

An old diner - rusting chrome and shattered windows, but it would do. Well past soaked by the time they scrambled over the hill and down. Grateful to find that it was abandoned. 

Picked over, for sure - but as long as there was a roof over their heads, he hadn’t cared. Combing through junk was her thing, anyways. He was just the pack mule.

Now - he’s multi-tasking. Trying not to think about what he’s thinking about.

About her changing in the room behind him. Peeling the patchwork raider gear off her curves. All that soft, smooth skin underneath.

Distracting himself by eyeing the radroach that is skittering across the pavement outside the front door - just out of range of his shotgun.

Because of course, out of everything in the wasteland, that was the thing she was scared of. Not super mutants, not even the pack of mirelucks that had them cornered, just the week before. 

A goddamn bug. 

He laughs, a soft hushed thing. Catching himself with a grimace. 

Because, like he said.

He’s fucked. 

The rain that patters overhead would be calming - if it had been 200 years ago, and not dripping with radiation.

She shivers, draping the tattered pants and worn shirt over the back of two rotting, wooden chairs - a makeshift drying rack. Missing that insulated warmth of her Vault Suit, trading it back at Sanctuary for worn clothes - old and salvaged Raider gear.

It had become hard to blend in, in all that blue.

It had made sense at the time, but in the dark and chilly backroom, she finds herself regretting it. Thinking that next time - she’ll pack it with her.

Trying to find the dampest parts of the packed gear to lay out, next. Lining up the bedroll next to the glow of the lantern. 

Don’t need any more must or mold than there already was. 

Pawing through her bag afterwards, coming up with something to pass for dinner. A can of cram, their only good fork wedged between two knuckles. A sweet roll split in two - the sticky crumbs clinging to her fingers as she nudged the door open.

Feeling vulnerable in the faded undergarments she wore underneath. Dreading facing him, not because of what he’ll say - that part, she is actually curious to hear. 

She’d given up on the idea of modesty long ago. Traveling on the road and through the dirt and blood and grime will do that. 

It was almost freeing.

No. It’s because - it makes her hope. Makes her think that dressing down might actually get him to notice her, in a way that’s more than the surface-level, flirty conversation she’s seen him have with dozens of people. 

In the old world, maybe she’d wear a dress for him. Something red and cut low in the front - bare arms and legs.

Now, it’s faded cotton and vulnerability.

A “I can trust you like this” and a “Maybe if you like it, it will make me brave enough to ask.”

Rejection dressed like this would sting, surely. Even if it’s her fault, for having a crush on someone who doesn’t see her that way. 

Her eyes linger on his back, where he stands watch. Where he hadn’t heard her open the door just yet, drifting to the other side of the counter to watch the rumbling, green storm roll in.

The tin clatters on the counter, drawing his attention. A flicker of lightning illuminating his profile as he turns, eyes widening. 

Hancock’s eyes drop automatically. Quickly and then a slow drag - it’s like watching him after she’s taken a hit of Psycho. 

Dark and glittering under her own careful watch, before they’re snapping back up, and he’s blinking. 

Pulling himself back. 

“Is that dinner?” He asks, clearing his throat when the words come out rough and low. 

Her face falls, just for an instant. A small smile replacing it, as she scoops up the tin of cram before tossing it his way. He catches it neatly - popping the lid open, plucking the fork from her fingers. 

She should have known better. 

Hancock was just a flirt, never taking her bait. It was a good thing, she thought. Honorable, despite the grey that’s soaked into both of their moral codes. 

He digs the fork in, breaking off a piece of the preserved meat. Handing the first bite to her, unable to help another quick look as he lowers himself to one of the stools that curves around the diner countertop. 

Not that he hasn’t seen her before. Never quite this bare - but close enough, from the quick times they’ve had to change clothes.

It didn’t mean anything. 

“So uh, what’s with the getup?” Hancock can’t resist asking, his tone deceptively light, “Or should I say, lack thereof?

“Clothes are soaked,” She snorts around the mouthful, trying to sound disinterested, “Besides, you’re always telling me it’s not good to let the rads soak in.”

He’s curious now, catching that slight edge. Not usually so defensive - that expression she makes when she’s flustered. It makes him want to nudge at it, poke at that little crack. 

“Hey, you don’t hear me complain’, sister.” Hancock grins, taking the fork back, “That’s a real good look for you.”

Always a joke. 

Her eyes roll as she sits down on the stool to his left, her knee knocking against his. The halves of sweet roll balanced on the curling, discarded tin, for after. 

They share the makeshift dinner. Passing the fork back and forth, trying not to think about how easy it feels to be like this. 

Companionable silence, beneath the rumbling, dark green sky. Tucked away and sheltered from the storm.

She stares out across the wasteland, lost in thought. Moving on to other things, already planning for the morning. If there’s any stops they need to make on the way back to Sanctuary. 

While his eyes wander - a sideways glance that drifts down her form greedily, only to shift away when her own lift. 

A breeze cuts through the building where windows once lived, making her shiver. Arms moving from the countertop to wrap around a bare middle, curling in on herself.

“You cold, sunshine?” He asks with concern, bringing her back.

She hadn’t noticed, but now she does. The chill starting to sink in, now that she’s not moving, not covered in the layers and padded armor. 

Goosebumps raise on her skin. Arms crossing tighter across her chest, as her lips part to answer.

But Hancock is already shrugging off his maroon frock, swiveling in his seat to swing it around her shoulders. 

She rarely seen him without it. Fuck, he even sleeps in the damn thing - a prized possession, if he ever had one.

“Thanks.” The word is layered with sincerity, as she pulls it close around her, the high collar brushing her cheek. 

Warmer already. The inside is soft against her skin, the fabric worn and stained and smelling like him.

Silence lingers for a moment, as they stare at the darkening sky. The heavy blanket of rain that still patters on the rooftop, a slow drip down to the tile floor on the other side of the room.

"Hope this lets up by morning," She says as she leans, warmer now - elbows pressing into the stained laminate counter.

Eyes out of focus, thoughts already running off without her. "Stop by Sanctuary, pick up some things for Tenpines. Haven't been there in a bit, been wondering how they've been holding up."

He mirrors her - feeling bare without his coat. A heavy lean on his left elbow, the swivel of the chair bumping his knee against hers, "’m sure they're fine. Gotta be better off than they were before."

A smirk crosses his features, a glance from the corner of his eye, "'Sides, not every day you get saved by the fearless leader of the Minutemen. That oughta keep 'em going for a while."

There's a groan as she slumps, the heels of her hands pressing into her eyes. Garvey's enthusiasm and her recent promotion to General a source of embarrassment, even if she bore the weight of it well.

"Yes, the fearless leader," She mocks, her head turning his way. Pushing herself up, her arms spreading wide, "If only they could see me now."

And they might not be able to, but he can.

Not just the soft expanse of her skin, peeking out from beneath his coat. The hollow of her throat, the curve of her breast and the strain of her tits against worn fabric that will be forever seared into his mind.

Not only just that, though. That something that he can see inside her - that was there when he had decided to leave Goodneighbor. That lingers with him, tethering them together as he follows at her side. And yes, he does stretch the truth - who doesn’t? He wouldn’t make half as many deals, otherwise. 

But he’s isn’t, now. 

She is unaware of the thoughts that tumble through his mind, quick as old snapshots. A curling amber film strip, tucked into a canister. 

Instead, there’s a roll of her eyes as her comment of "really, only you could pull this coat off" lands on ears that had been muted, in the way his mind drifts. How the low pooling of warmth in his belly turns sharp and cramps, at the thought of Preston Garvey spending time in such company. Like this - without him.

"I wouldn’t say that." He hears himself saying. Voice a little lower, raspier, than usual.

Maybe it's bravery. Maybe it's him finally seeing her intent - maybe it's the moment where he's realizing that after tonight, she's no longer just his again.

His eyes drag over her again, slower this time. And he lets her catch them.

"From here, things are looking pretty good."

She stills, eyes rounding. A swivel of her chair until knee-to-knee becomes thigh-to-thigh- something akin to hope slipping into her tone.

“Yeah?”

He reaches - fingers tracing the collar of his coat, thumb rubbing against the hollow of her throat.

“I’d say so.” Hancock tells her, “Look like a goddamn dream, if I’m being honest.”

She’s tired of waiting. She’s done enough of it. Eyes on his as her chin tilts up, just hovering.

He’s tired, too.

With a lean, he takes the offering. Ruined lips press against soft ones. Ones that part for him, a soft sound at the greedy dart and swipe of his tongue, until she’s meeting him.

She’s sweet - he can taste the sugar on her tongue, melding with the taste of her. Fingers press against his chest, where his heart hammers. Sliding over lithe shoulders until they’re wrapping around, pulling him closer.

He’s stronger than he looks. The seat squeaks when he leans, his palms tracing her waist, her hips. Tucking beneath her thighs - right against the curve of her ass as Hancock lifts his hips, taking her with him.

She moves, his name a soft sound in her throat. Letting him lead, letting him ease her onto the edge of the counter. A sense of relief and hope floods through her, dripping down to settle warm and wanting between the thighs that spread open so he can step between them. 

His cock swells, where it’s trapped inside his pants. Easing the ache with a roll of his hips, pressing himself against the thin fabric covering her core. The breath she inhales in response is shaky. Another soft sound, so different than the assured tone he’s used to. 

He wants to hear it again.

It’s easy to set the pace - the pointed press of his hips. Her hand finding his, drawing it up to her breast. Letting him cup her, the soft weight. Letting him press his thumb against that tight peak, catch it between his fingers until she’s gasping against his grinning mouth. 

Her mouth drops, catching his chin. The tip of a tongue between parted lips press against his cheek, warmth breath against his jaw making him growl. 

“Please-” She’s murmuring, against his skin. Against muscle and sinew, as his own lips follow.

Fingers biting into his skin, as his teeth graze her jaw. Her head tilting back, baring her throat to him, as her hips rock to meet his. Eyes fluttering shut as her chest heaves, as his other hand curls against the curve of her hip, keeping her close. 

His tongue peeks out, dragging against sweat and rain-dewed skin. A groan rattles in his throat, his own voice distant and rasping.

“Fuck, I need to taste you.” He can feel her moan, against his lips at his words, “Lean back for me, doll.”

She’s soft, pliable. Unwinding herself from him as she obeys, only for those hazy eyes to open - meeting his beetle-black ones. 

“Wait,” She’s protesting, hands slipping to press flat against on his chest. A sudden realization - shoulder curling back so his coat slides off it, “Let me take this off.”

“Leave it.” Hancock’s head lifts to kiss her again, his hand curling around the back of her neck. 

She huffs against his mouth, before it turns into a sigh. His tongue brushing against her lower lip, before she pulls back again.

Not wanting to forget her train of thought.

“What if I make a mess on your coat?”

He groans at that, the hand on her hip drifting lower. Cupping her over the thin piece of fabric, fingers pressing down. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He husks, “I’d fuckin’ love that. Never gonna take it off.”

It makes her scoff, cheeks burning, “You never do, anyways. You-”

He shuts her up with his fingers - tugging at the elastic waistband, pulling them down until she’s bare. Letting her kick them off, before he’s pushing her back against the counter.

Arching over her soft form as his mouth wanders, his hips grinding against hers. Teeth nipping at her throat, lips brushing where her heartbeat flutters. Clever fingers tracing the seam of her sex, brushing over soft lips - teasing. 

She’s so fucking wet, he can feel how his fingers glide over her skin. How it smears on her thighs, as they spread wider for him. 

“What do you want?” 

It makes her sigh - that voice, so low and rasping - and she’s clenching around nothing already.

“You,” She’s unable to help but whine, “Please, you-”

His laugh is rough, a rattling chuckle in his throat, “You have me, sunshine.”

Middle finger parting her, teasing at her entrance, the calloused pad of his thumb circling around the bud of her clit. Sinking into the wet heat as she groans, starting a slow pump of his textured finger.

Pressing deep with a slow thrust. Another, and then another, until she’s taking a second. Stretching her wide, as her fingers twist in his stained shirt. Grasping for his shoulders as her hips buck into his touch. 

“Should say how do you want it?” The kiss he presses against her throat is almost reverent, “Because I don’t think I have it in me to go slow right now.”

“Slow, later.,” She moans, as his fingers press deep, “Need you.”

He grins, “Love how you think, sweetheart.” 

Hancock’s head ducks, moving down to her collarbone, then lower. She’s already reaching to tug the cups of her bra down, baring the curves of her breasts to him.

“Fuckin’ beautiful.” He hums, fingers brushing over the soft weight again, cupping one in his hand. Still fucking her open with the other, curling and stroking until she’s panting. 

Tongue peeking out to flatten, and then drag across the tight peak of her nipple. Her hands grasping for him again, as there’s the briefest pinch of teeth.

“Hancock.” She grits out, a swivel of her hips against his, grinding into his fingers. 

His own rocking against the back of his hand, where he’s hard and aching. Never thinking he’d know what it’s like to have his partner begging like this. 

He wants to hear more. Every little sound she makes, as his mouth moves lower. Licking wet stripes against her stomach and abdomen.

Until he’s plunking down on the padded chrome stool he’s been straddling. Gazing at where she’s wrapped around his glossy fingers. 

Watching how she twitches and bucks and gasps when his thumb swipes across her clit, his name on parted lips again.

“Love hearin’ you say my name like that.” He purrs, “Can’t wait to hear how it sounds when you come.”

Leaning forward, inhaling her scent before his tongue swipes above his fingers. Her hips leave the countertop, the moan loud as he laughs - his other hand pressing flat against her stomach. 

Holding her down, as he teases her again. Short, pointed licks against her throbbing clit. Her cunt is as sweet as her mouth, his own groan caught in his throat as his tongue dips inside her. 

Mourning all the nights he could have spent like this. Spending the time as evening turns to night, then again as night turns to dawn. Drowning in the taste of her instead of clenching his teeth until his jaw aches, as he tries to keep quiet. Dreaming of this. 

He leans back, just enough to press a wet kiss against her clit. The soft suck a sharp contrast with the texture of his rough fingers as he fucks her open. 

She was right - it’s messy. Dripping down the curve of her thighs, the damp stain mixing with others on his weathered coat. 

Everything is so dry, in the wasteland. Dirt roads and dead trees. He relishes in the wet suck of her cunt, how it’s this way right now because of him.

His cheeks hollow, a swirl of his tongue before he’s adding to it. Leaning back to let his spit drip down, his thumb dragging it across the tight bud.

She’s whimpering. It’s been ages since she’s had anyone - the low throb in her belly swiftly building. 

In the before - she thinks she’d be embarrassed to be splayed out like this. Stripped near-bare on the counter of a diner, thighs spread wide as his fingers pump into her aching cunt.

But he eats her like a meal, left hand moving from her belly. Wrapping around a thigh to tug her closer, hiking it over a shoulder.

Groaning into her pussy as his tongue flicks against her clit, smearing slick across his chin. Pressing closer, unhindered by the usual curve of cartilage and flesh as he molds himself against her. 

“Hancock.” His name is a sharp gasp, as she clenches around him. Breath held in her throat as she watched with half-lidded eyes.

Focused on the tight string that winds with each careful curl of his fingers. He slips in a third and she all but sobs, chasing her pleasure with a needy rock of her hips.

Chanting him name as it curls low in her belly.

“Hancock. Hancock-”

And then, the prettiest of all.

“John. Fuck, John, I’m going to come-”

It’s goddamn music to his metaphorical ears. Better than that - better than the sing of gunfire in his favor, of the sweet rush and hum of that first hit of Jet.

He watches through those dark eyes as she falls apart. Her cry loud in the empty diner, as she’s struck - the livewire crackle of her orgasm ripping through her.

Better than she can ever remember. Thighs squeeze around his neck but it only makes him moan - breath hot against her cunt as his fingers continue to pump. And his tongue dips to taste her, slipping between knuckles. 

The pleasure throbs - the stained ceiling spinning, looking like the clouded stars high above them to her hazy mind. 

A disbelieving and dazed laugh caught in her throat as his mouth moves. Pressing against her mound, the sensitive curve where thigh meets hip. 

It’s only then that she’s unhooking her thighs - a heat blazing in her cheeks at the brazenness. Too caught up in the moment to see herself - splayed out across the countertop, heels digging into his spine. 

But she does see him - the need etched across his face under the tip of his hat, the wet shine against his lips and chin. Deadly in a new kind of way, mixing with the prowess he shows on the battlefield.

There’s another low throb, deep inside her. The lithe way he moves, rising - a hand planting next to her hip, the other working the heavy buckle open.

She meets him - pushing herself up. A hand coming to cup him, feeling the hard length that strains against his trousers. Tasting herself on his tongue when her head ducks to kiss him, swallowing his groan as her fingers palm and squeeze. 

“Drivin’ me crazy, sunshine.” His voice is like gravel, as he works at the zipper - her fingers slipping past to wrap around hot skin, “Enough to make a ghoul go feral, you know that?”

Her smile is pretty - pleasure-drunk, and he hasn’t even fucked her yet. Her hand soft and warm where she eases him out, the brush of her thumb over the head making his cock throb. 

“Me too. I need you.” She begs, and he knows it’s more than that just that.

That it’s not just fucking, right now. That a line has been crossed, that they’ll never be able to not want this again. More than ready to tumble over into the unknown, together.

“My mouth wasn’t enough?” Hancock grins. Fully intending to have her every way she’ll let him. Unable to resist making her squirm.

The look she gives him makes him chuckle - the gentle pull of her fist, the little frown. The way her thighs spread again, aiming the flushed tip of his cock over slick skin. Against the tight nub of her clit as she shivers, lips parting with a gasp.

“Hancock, don’t tease-” Some of that bite is back, desperate. Not begging but it’s close, as her hips lift against him again. 

“I’ll give you anything you want.” He promises, “Just like hearing you say it. Come on, sweetheart.” 

It’s hard to hold himself back, when she’s notching him against her opening. His hands sliding to her hips, liking the way his fingers sink into her skin.

How it dents around his calloused ones, soft as the rest of her.

“Fuck me.” Her eyes are on his, watching where they drag from his fingers to her pussy. Watching how his chest heaves beneath his vest, where his chest peeks from loosened buttons. 

“I need you in me. I need you to fuck me, I want to come on your cock-”

“Fuck.” He groans, and then his hips are snapping forward. Feeling the tight, warm squeeze as he buries himself in her, as she cries out at the intrusion. 

“Goddamn, sunshine.” He has to hold himself there for a moment, hilted inside her. Feeling the way she clenches down around him, fingers mirroring it where they wrap in his shirt. 

Almost sharing a breath as he inches out, only to press deep again. Again, and then again - until there’s the slick slap, the creak of the floorboards beneath his heavy boots as his feet spread wider. 

It’s better than his fingers. He’s deeper, filling her completely, stealing her breath. Those hands tugging at her hips, urging her to meet each thrust, as he picks up speed.

Hearing the changes in her pretty sounds - the gasps and the scrape of fingernails against his skin. Spearing her on his cock, where she can feel the worn and rough ridges gliding against a spot that has been sighing. 

But, he wants more. Wants her like before - splayed out. At his mercy, in a way that he knows she’d only do for him. Knowing that she trusts him - wondering if he would be worried that the thought makes his cock jerk inside her. 

“Give me your hands.” He rasps - and slowly, her finger uncurl from the edge of the counter, the vice-like grip on his shirt.

Hancock grasps at her wrists, joining them together with one of his own. Pushing her back, dragging them above her head and pressing them down hard against the countertop.

Arching over her as his eyes sweep over soft curves and bare skin. His coat spread out beneath her, the worn red so pretty next to her skin. Better than his best fantasy, and he’s already thinking about a next time. 

The choked out “oh!” she makes with the next rock of his hips shoots straight to his cock - knowing full-well she could break free if she wanted.

Instead, she lets him take. 

Giving up the control as he ruts into her, spearing his cock deep again and again. Trying to meet the messy swipe of his fingertips that drifted down to press against the bundle of nerves - her pleasure in his hands.

“Look good like this, sunshine.” His eyes drag over her breasts, still shining from his tongue.

“Real fuckin’ good.”

Down to where her thighs tighten around his hips, arching into him, “Should keep you like this all the time. Just in my coat. Wear it better than I do.”

A sharp edge to his voice, one that fuels the aching pressure that builds and builds. Her head thunks back against the laminate counter, eyes falling shut. 

The words starting slow, growing louder, then running together. 

“Feels so good-”

“Hancock don’t stop. Oh my god-”

There’s an electricity in the air that has nothing to do with the storm. His hand biting into her wrists so hard that it hurts, but the pain only loops into her mounting pleasure.

It’s different than his dalliances before. 

Before, it had filled his time. Finding someone to spend the night with a couple times a week, enjoying the shared company with another.

That frequency dwindling after they joined up, though he hadn’t been the type to stop. He just no longer had the time, that same desire. 

Finding that he no longer focused on chasing his own pleasure. His interest shifting - until there was only one face that drifts through his mind, in the stolen moments at night when his hand slipped beneath his trousers. 

Embracing the crave of a new kind of addiction, the urge hooking its claws into his brain. 

“Say my name again.” He tells her, feeling his own release winding and tightening. Trying to stave it off, as he tries to think about anything else, “Fuckin’ scream it for me.” 

Her eyes are on his when she says it.

“John.”

First soft, and then pitching up - louder.

And in the moment, he’s just John. The John before and the John now, man and ghoul and so focused on the circle of his fingers, on her cries.

It’s too much - all she can do is lean into it. Never realizing how much she’d like letting go for him, knowing that just like in the Wasteland, he had her. 

Always liking his quips and rasping tone but never experiencing it like this - honey-sweet and hungry. 

Learning so quickly what she likes - how quick he was to adjust the angle, the slick swirl of his fingers.

His name is on her lips again as he brings her over the brink. More like a prayer this time, her body stringing taut beneath him, eyes wide. Mouth rounding on a high gasp as the pleasure shudders through her, radiating up her spine and down her limbs.

Seeming to reach across from where they’re joined, that steady rhythm stuttering as she flutters tight and warm around him. 

“Fuck. Fuck, sunshine. You feel so fucking good, gonna make me come-” His teeth grit, a silent question.

Her answer coming in the way her thighs tighten around him. Keeping him pressed deep inside her, until his thrusts turn short and sloppy. 

“Oh, fuck yes.” His grin is closer to a snarl, “Thank you-” 

His fingers bite into her hip. Her name hissed through clenched teeth as the pressure builds, before spilling over.

As his hips rut until he’s pressed as deep as he can, a choked groan as he comes. His cock twitching with each throb of his orgasm, as he fills her. Emptying himself into her heat - until she’s milked him dry. Until he slows, leaving himself buried, deep and warm.

His eyes drop, as he comes back down. Where she’s watching, just as hungry as he was.

Leaving them staring at each other. His back arched over where his hand has slipped. Loosening on her wrist, until her fingers has twined with his. 

There’s no going back.

His cock hangs heavy between his thighs. It’s night - dark now, but the flickering of lightning following the peals of thunder cast green shadows over her body. Eyes drifting up to where the rain patters on the metal roof.

A languid exhale, breathing out the smoke from the cigarette he fished out of the coat pocket. Dangling between two fingers, the cherry gleaming in the dim light. 

Then back down, to where she still rests - beautifully drowsy and limp-limbed. Thighs still parted, where she gleams with him.

He’s certain he’ll be dripping into those clothes of hers for days. 

It does something to him, an interested twitch from his cock. Stepping closer to fit himself back between those thighs, where they close to bracket his hips again. 

“Didn’t you say somethin’ ‘bout slow, later?” Hancock asks, his hand petting down a hip, thumb brushing against her skin. 

Stubbing the rest of his smoke out on the counter, letting it fall to the tile below. 

Her smile is sweet as she pushes herself up. No use leaving while the storm raged on - and she’s pretty sure the bedroll was well on its way to dry by now. 

Fingers catch on the collar of his ruffled shirt, starting to push it from his shoulders. His own hands tugging at her, until he pressed snug against her again. 

“Mm. Is it later, now?” She asks - as more of him is a bared - her hands running across rough skin. 

Hancock grins. 

“I sure as hell hope so.”

I know this dropped out of nowhere for a 9 year old game but I can’t get the mayor out of my mind 💕 thanks for reading!!!

[dazed-and-confused23]

Hi, can I request a story where a female reader wants to fuck Cooper and keeps making advances at him but Cooper always shuts her down. But when reader meets Hancock, she's so desperate to get her rocks off that she asks him to bang her, which he immediately agrees to because, well, it's Hancock. Reader and Hancock aren't exactly quiet when they're having sex which causes Cooper to be unable to sleep. They noises they make get to him and he jerks himself off. Internally, he's wishing he didn't blow off reader so many times because he could've been in Hancock's position by now.

Anon. I can't thank you enough for such a lovely prompt ❤️. I hope I've done it justice!

Cooper can admit that you're a stubborn little smoothskin. This is the fourth time in three days that you'd slid up to him, all soft flesh and smelling delicious, and looked at him with such an innocent gaze that it always shocked him at the filth that spilled out of your mouth.

"You should let me suck your cock."

Cooper sucked in a harsh breath, his lungs rattling and sending him into a short coughing fit. You pat his back softly, expression concerned, until the ghoul shrugs you off and stomps forward.

"Shouldn't be sayin' shit like that to men like me, Smoothie," Cooper bit out, and willed down the arousal that wanted to rise up and consume him like a fuckin' tidal wave. They rounded one last corner and came upon the entrance of Goodneighbor, and Cooper slumped a little in relief when they passed inside the safety of the walls. Boston was a dangerous place.

Down in the Third Rail, you sit by yourself at the bar, an annoyed pout on your lips as you sip the drink Charlie had whipped up for you. Cooper has already retired for the night, shacked up in a room at the Hotel Rexford. You don't understand why your ghoulish companion doesn't want to have sex with you. There wasn't something wrong with you was there?

Your self depreciating thoughts are interrupted by a smokey voice, made rough by radiation and chems.

"Why the long face, sister?"

You turn and see one of the most attractive ghouls you've ever lain eyes on. He is lean and willowy, but you could see a hidden strength in the way he held himself. He wore a red colonial outfit, complete with a tricorn hat, and a smile so friendly you knew there was danger lurking beneath.

"Cat got your tongue?" He drawls after a moment, and you flush, thighs squeezing together just at the sound of his voice. It's over for you after that. You learn that his name is Hancock, and he's the Major of Goodneighbor. He buys you drinks, and it's an embarrassingly short amount of time before you turn to him, eyes hopeful.

"Will you have sex with me, Hancock?"

The ghoul doesn't miss a best, hands already on your hips as he leads you out of the Third Rail and to the hotel across the street, and conveniently right beside Cooper's rented room.

The bounty hunter wakes to the sound of two people fucking, and they are not being quiet about it. Cooper is seconds away from smacking the wall and snarling at them to shut the fuck up, when he recognizes the sound of your voice, and his annoyance turns straight to burning aroused, jealousy.

Blood rushes to his cock, and Cooper falls back in the bed, head hitting the pillow as he clenches his eyes shut. The sound of your breath moans, begging for more ring in his head, and the ghoul breaks. He pops the button of his pants and shoves them down, taking his aching dick in his hand and stroking roughly.

"Ahh~ harder, John. Please."

Cooper grits his teeth, regret curdling his stomach as he listens to someone else fuck you, take what he kept pushing away. It should be his fuckin' name that you moan, his cock that should be buried in your tight cunt. Coop wouldn't have kept pushing you away if he knew you sounded so sweet stuffed full.

"That's it, baby, ya feel so goddamn good."

The second voice is rough, and that green envy grows at recognizing the sound of another ghoul. Cooper snarls lowly in the room, his hand tight around his cock as he fucks his fist and imagines that it's him in the room with you, bending you over the bed and fucking you just like you've been begging him to.

The sounds you make grow in pitch, and Cooper follows right along, stroking his cock in time with the breathy pants that's fall from your lips. A strangled moan leaves his lips when his balls tighten, and he comes, seed spilling and coating his fist. Cooper sits up and wipes it off on the sheets without a care, brows pulled down in a scowl when the noise in the next room ceases.

Cooper stuffs his dick back in his pants and leaves the room, loping out of the hotel and back to the bar. He'd wait until you were finished with whoever the fuck John was, and then he'd be there to sweep you up. Coop wouldn't miss that opportunity again.

[gogogodzilla]

day 19, 69ing

john hancock x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, drug use, sex while high, teasing, dirty talk, fingering, hancock calls reader sunshine kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

To Hancock, getting high was second nature. He was always popping one chem or another on your travels. You didn’t mind. Whatever he had to do to get through the day.

You ventured through the gritty streets of Goodneighbor, looking for your friend. You had a surprise for him, after all. The raucous sounds of the Third Rail on a Saturday night graced your ears, and you found yourself being pulled there. 

You nodded to the security guard and descended the steps. Smooth jazz and the low murmur of voices greeted you as you entered the bar. A grin fought itself onto your features as you spotted, through the cigarette smoke and lively conversations of the patrons, your favorite Mayor seated at the bar, talking to Whitechapel Charlie. 

You sidled up next to him, leaning on the bar, nodding to Charlie as you sat. “Room for one more?” 

“Look who decided to finally show up,” Hancock drawled, pushing his tricorn hat back to let his eyes rake over your form.

“The super mutants trying to kill me didn’t seem to care that I had a date tonight,” you retorted, chuckling a little at your joke. 

You and Hancock weren’t exactly together, but you couldn’t deny that you felt strongly toward him. The lingering glances and semi-sexual remarks while you were traveling were enough of an indication that Hancock liked you too. 

The usual grin on his face widened at your reply. He rubbed his chin, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Date, huh?” 

You leaned into his space, emboldened by his gaze on yours. “Yeah, although it’s a little crowded in here,” you titled your head, glancing around the room and its various patrons. 

“Why don’t you and me get outta here, sunshine?” Hancock suggested as he slid from his stool and offered you an arm. 

You stood and took his arm, “Thought you’d never ask, mayor.” 

You were giddy as you made the short walk to the Old State House. While on your adventures out in the Commonwealth, you’d found a bottle of Day Tripper. It was popular back in your day for those attempting to escape the troubles of their everyday life, and you didn’t think that Hancock had ever tried it before. 

Fahrenheit nodded to both of you as you entered the old building from her usual place at the bottom of the spiral staircase. Her gaze danced between the two of you for a moment before Hancock led you up the stairs. 

You sauntered toward one of the couches in the middle of the room, and Hancock shut the double doors to his room behind him. Your heart rate picked up at the telltale sound of the lock clicking. You took your seat and patted the cushion next to you. 

He sat next to you, eyes dancing across your features. “There’s another reason why I was late,” you mentioned as he reclined and threw an arm over the couch. 

He hummed, turning his head to look at you. You rifled through your bag before your hands wrapped around the blue-green bottle. You pulled it out and handed it to him. 

He took it from you and raised an eyebrow as he read the label. It was white and covered with flowers. From what you’d heard about the effects, you assumed that the label was supposed to reflect how you felt while you were on it. 

“Where’d you find this?” 

“West Roxbury Station, out by University Point. I wasn’t lying about the super mutants trying to kill me,” you laughed, giving him a half-shrug. 

His mouth curved into a smile, “You’re somethin’ else, sunshine.” 

You inched closer toward him, your heart fluttering in your chest. “I thought we could try it together,” you divulged, biting the inside of your cheek. 

His grin grew wider, “Didn’t take you for the partying type.” 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you replied, coyly. 

Hancock kept his eyes on yours as he undid the orange top of the bottle and shook out two small pills into one of his hands. 

He picked up one pill, “Open up, sunshine,” he ordered, smirking. 

Your breathing hitched before you opened your mouth for him, allowing your tongue to stick out over your bottom lip. Hancock held out the pill for you pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. You met his gaze as you leaned forward and you wrapped your lips around his fingers. His thumb escaped your lips to cradle your chin and his pointer finger stayed trapped within the wet confines of your mouth. 

You were a little surprised at the boldness of your actions, but the thought was quickly replaced by much more obscene ones as you swallowed around Hancock’s finger and a soft growl escaped him. 

He retracted his hand and popped the remaining pill into his mouth. He reclined against the red cushions of the couch, waiting for the effects to kick in. Slowly, the world around you began to transform. Color intensified and became more vivid, time seemed to slow, and the air around you hummed with energy. 

Hancock chuckled as you looked around the room, “Welcome to my world. Ain’t it a trip?” 

A laugh bubbled in your throat, and your eyes met for just a moment. Warmness spread throughout your body like the heat from the good whiskey Charlie served on special occasions. Hancock’s eyes were half-closed and the corners of his mouth were turned up in a lazy grin. 

You watched as he slowly sat up and tugged off his coat, also feeling the warmth that felt like it was humming under your skin. His shirt shone like a beacon in the light of the nearby lantern in your drug-induced vision. It was like your limbs were moving on their own as they reached out and stroked the fabric on his bicep. 

His breathing hitched in his throat as your fingers trailed up and over his shoulder to the bare skin of his neck. Something inside you ignited as soon as your fingertips dragged over the column of his throat, and it felt like your entire being was being drawn toward him. 

You crawled toward him, settling yourself on his lap as you cradled his face in your hands. He chuckled as he gripped your thighs, keeping you still. 

“I… need to touch you,” you murmured as you leaned forward and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. It wasn’t enough. 

You moved your face upward, eyebrows furrowed. “Need to taste you,” you practically begged as your lips ghosted against his. 

He leaned forward, and your lips collided. Your movements were clumsy, the drug making your muscles uncooperative. Your senses were heightened, and you could taste a hint of the liquor Hancock had earlier on his tongue. You groaned against his lips, which were rough and marred against your own. You wondered if other parts of him tasted this good. 

You pulled away and a small string of saliva connected the two of you. You moved to press sloppy kisses along the column of his throat, letting your tongue drag over the skin there. Hancock’s hands wandered over your body, squeezing and kneading wherever you could. He probably would’ve ripped your vault suit off of you if his limbs were working properly. 

“Wanna taste you, sunshine,” he rasped out as he grabbed your hips and ground them against his hardened length. You whined at the sensation as arousal coursed through your veins. 

“Lay back,” you ordered, shoving his shoulder lightly. Hancock followed your orders as you stood on shaky legs. You slowly peeled off your vault suit, thankful for the zipper, and Hancock palmed himself as he watched you through lidded eyes. 

You tugged your underwear down and kicked them to the side. You were practically drooling at the sight of Hancock before you. His shirt was open, exposing his scarred chest to you. He had unbuttoned his pants and freed his cock from its confines. He slowly stroked himself as you neared. 

In your drug-induced haze, an idea struck you. You straddled Hancock’s face so you could easily lean down and take his cock in your mouth. You could both taste each other that way. 

His hands moved to grip your thighs as you hovered over him. His breath fanned against your core and you shuddered, rocking your hips slightly. 

“All for me,” Hancock breathed against you, a hint of astonishment in his voice. 

You nodded as you reached down and began to slowly stroke him. “Only for you,” you slurred, tongue heavy in your mouth. You were already drunk on the feeling of him. 

Your grip around his cock tightened as he took you in his mouth. Your thighs squeezed around him as he devoured you, swiping his tongue through your folds before moving to circle your clit. 

He bucked his hips, reminding you that you had a job to do. You pumped your hand slowly before swiping your thumb over the tip of his cock, gathering the precum dripping from there. 

Hancock groaned against your core as you stroked him, sending vibrations through your body. You rutted your hips against his face, chasing your high. 

Hancock dipped his tongue into your entrance, and you leaned forward, moaning. You swirled your tongue around his red-hued tip, and your eyes practically rolled in the back of your head from the taste of him. 

Hancock’s grip tightened on your thighs as he brought you even closer. Moans escaped him as you slowly bobbed your head and clenched around nothing. 

You hollowed your cheeks around him, taking him even deeper than before. Your movements became sloppy as you neared the precipice. Hancock’s mouth wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced before, and coupled with the finger he slid inside you, your release was rapidly approaching. 

He quickly added another finger and pumped them inside you while he sucked on your clit. You moaned around his cock before relaxing your jaw to take all of him. 

Hancock’s tongue circled your clit once and then twice, and then you were coming undone above him. Pleasure wracked through your entire body in waves, and your thighs began to shake. Hancock continued his efforts, allowing you to ride out your high. 

He tensed under you before coming with a strangled groan. You pulled away and watched as white tendrils coated your hand. You continued to stroke him until pleasure veered into overstimulation and he tapped your thigh. 

You slowly slid off of him, both coming down from the high of your orgasm and the high from the drug. You giggled a little as you took his sash and cleaned him off. You didn’t expect your plan to work this well. 

“I’m glad we did that,” you whispered as you lay on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. 

Hancock chuckled, “I should party with you more often.”

[shnargo]

shoop-ing

pairings: john hancock x reader warnings: sexual innuendoes?? a little?? word count: 564 a/n: i have fallen desperately for this man, and i am very disappointed to find there aren't that many fics for him >:( so i'm adding to the pool. also sorry for disappearing, char.ai held me hostage for a long time and i'm actually finding inspo for writing again

"You're staring you know." The ghoul finally speaks after taking another hit of jet, tossing the now empty canister into a nearby bin that's similarly filled with various used chems and needles alike. All the trash bins in Goodneighbor were like that, a common vice shared by its residents. "You gonna share why or are you just gonna keep enjoying the view? Not that I mind, a'course." He ends with a rumbly chuckle.

"How does one exactly kiss you?" The words come out before your brain can catch up, and you watch as he manages to look surprised by you for once. You blame the old wine you picked up earlier, it was a gamble in drinking it to see how potent it really was. Your eyes end up drifting toward his nasal cavity as you try to sort the idea out in your head. "Wouldn't the noses just.. shoop?" You pair your improvised sound effect with a hand gesture that's a lot more sexual in retrospect.

Hancock barks out a full laugh at that, the sound resounding in his office room that you're sure that Fahrenheit can hear it loud and clear from the other room. You would manage to feel embarrassed at yourself were you any less piss drunk. "You got a thing for nose-on-nose action or what?" He asks, onyx eyes sparkling with humor as he sees the frown his words bring to your lips. "I'm serious, Hancock."

"How about you make yourself a scientist and test that theory of yours, then?" It's far less forward than any of the other comments he's thrown your way in the past, but whether it's the buzz warming your skin or how his hand creeps toward your side of the couch as he tries getting closer to you, he seems serious this time. Lifting yourself from your laying position, you figure it's good enough to try calling his bluff. And if he's actually serious about it?

Well, you wouldn't be complaining either way.

He doesn't shift much himself, but his gaze is intent on your every action. By the time your hands are on his chest, his find their place on your back. Respectful, but firm in making its presence known to you. As you raise your head in meeting his lips, you can catch the way his breath hitches, giving away his nervousness that he has about this situation no matter how well he tries to hide it.

It's mostly his nose bridge, or rather, the nasal ridge that juts out barely enough to keep your still flesh-covered one from dipping into the cavity nearby. Though you find yourself distracted by his chapped lips already working yours, that are no less chapped. Lip balm wasn't accessible in the apocalypse after all. But saliva is exchanged, smoothing the process in more ways than one as his other hand comes up to the back of your neck to edge you closer to him.

Once you mutually pull away, the next few deepened breaths are found in sync. Hancock's fingers play with the hair by the base of your neck, he was never a man to keep still for long. "How unfortunate." He finally rasps, lips quirking up as his gaze is held in yours. "I guess you didn't have your "shoop"-ing after all."

You grab the rim of his hat and shove it over his face.

[nukaberries]

Could I get a John Hancock reaction to a pregnant sole? I know this is not possible but I would like to dream 😔 Thank you!

This is ADORABLE and honestly, never say never. Hancock wasn't ghoulified the usual way so maybe? there's hope?? Anyways, this is a super cute idea and I'm so excited for it!! I hope you enjoy it!

//

Hancock Reacting to a Pregnant Sole (John Hancock x Sole Survivor)

He didn't think it would be possible for him to ever have children, so it was something he put to the back of his mind.

The idea of having kids was nice and it was something he truly would've wanted, but he figured it'd be better to put it to the back of his mind, to avoid the pain of knowing he couldn't.

Although, sometimes he'd see families around Goodneighbor - a rare sight in a place like that - and secretly wish it could be him. He'd never admit it to anyone though.

Meeting Sole and starting a relationship with them, the conversation of kids is only brought up a few times, with both deciding they wouldn't be able to for the obvious reasons.

Hancock does mention he wouldn't mind adopting, if the opportunity ever presented itself.

And then Sole finds out that they're pregnant.

It's enough to knock the wind out of his lungs and for a minute, he's dead certain he's having a oddly realistic hallucination, likely fuelled by whatever chem he was on.

But it's real, Sole is pregnant and he's going to be a father and admittedly, he couldn't be more happy. Absolutely terrified? Definitely, but still ecstatic.

He immediately begins to worry about how him being mayor of Goodneighbor could cause problems. Sure, he's a better leader than his brother, but that doesn't mean he has no enemies.

To be on the safe side, he has Fahrenheit step up more around Goodneighbor, he knows he'll miss being around as much, he needs to put Sole and their baby first though.

The idea of being a father scares him more than he wants to admit to Sole though and eventually, he finds himself asking MacCready and Piper for advice. He considers asking Sole, but he doesn't want them to think he's incapable.

He's also got a lot of worries about if the baby will be okay, since he's a ghoul. He doesn't want to worry Sole though, so he bottles a lot of it up, maybe more than he should.

If Sole can get him to open up about his fears towards the pregnancy and his impending fatherhood, he'll feel a lot better about it afterwards.

He is excited, more than he knows how to explain, but it's really daunting to him and he doesn't know how to cope.

In spite of all his worries, Hancock knows that when the time comes, he's going to be the best father he possibly can be and he's just glad he's doing it with Sole by his side.

[whatanightmaregrinch]

idk the idea of Hancock teaching sole survivor how to smoke a cigarette is insanely funny to me, like— sole survivor choking into a cloud of smoke, eyes streaming as he’s cackling and clapping them on the back as they cough? I can just see him saying “maybe you should just stick to mentats.” And cheerily taking the cigarette from sole survivor to continue smoking it for himself, but gently papping their back at the same time —

[chardbones]

High in the moonlight

(John Hancock X Reader)

Warning: drug use and slight nsfw

A/N: Finally, it's done. I have a few more fic ideas for John so you can expect more from me in the near future. I have another idea for a longer fic like this one but I'll make sure to post some headcanons while the main fic is being written

Tonight everyone on Goodneighbor were celebrating. What you may ask, no clue. Y/N and John weren't all that interested on what was going one. They were more focused on the following hours to come.

The lights dimed, windows open, the full moon shinning bright. They could hear the chatter and laughter of everyone outside and the clanking of bottles.

Since Hancock met you, he's stopped taking so many chems as he used to but ever now and then you both have a "small" bender. And tonight was one of those moments.

You layed on the sofa, John laying on you and holding some Jet in one hand. When he's high Hancock tends to be really physically affectionate. Like really clingy and wanting to touch every part of you. While sober he is still every physically affectionate but while high it's a different story. But you never really had a problem with it, you loved it and made sure to give him plenty in return.

John inhaled the jet and tossed it over into a corner of the room. He moved around so he'd be laying on his stomach facing you. You look into he's beautiful void like eyes, it's one of the things that you were the most attracted to when it comes to his physical appearance. He looked even more beautiful with the moonlight mix with the candle light illuminating his features.

John looked at you in pure awe, he moved one hand to touch you cheek and lightly rubbed it with the back side of his hand. He'd often think to himself how lucky he got to be with such a sweet and loving person like you.

You reach behind you and grab a box of grape mentats, opening it and taking one out.

"Open" you softly said with a small reassuring smile.

Hancock did what he was told and slightly opened his mouth and moved his tongue out a bit. You place the pill and slightly smirk as you can see a bit of blush on the ghouls scared face. John swallows the pill and kisses you, grabbing his waist pulling him even more closer if that's even possible.

He hummed in pleasure as the pill started to work it's magic. You two pull apart and smile at eachother, you huff some jet and toss it in the same direction John tossed his.

"You are so beautiful sunshine. And this isn't the chems talking. You are perfect in everyway, even when we have difficulty periods in our relationship. I love you so much Y/N" John said in a low and quite voice but loud enough so you'd hear him.

"I love you so much too John, my handsome and charming ghoul" you give him a big smile while giggling a bit and kiss him.

You lick his lips with you tongue asking for entrance and he gives it too you. Slipping your tongue and overpowering Hancock's tongue wasn't hard at all. Quite little moans could have been heard escaping John's mouth as the sensation of your dominance and the chems combined made him experience sweet pleasure.

Hancock secretary really loves it when you're dominant, even when kissing. He has told you it before (after a lot of asking from you because he was too embarrassed and flustered to say) but didn't mention it that it was a turn on when you did it while kissing.

He cups your face with both hands and you softly grab his ass. Even though the both of you weren't completely hammered yet the chems it still made you both a bit sloppy when making out.

A few hours later and the both of you were in your shared bed, both shirtless and a few calmex, jet's and grape mentats being emptied, high out of your minds.

You both knew that the side affects after the bender were going to be a pain to get though but ever once in awhile it's worth it. Both of you are cuddling, slowly and sloppily kissing eachother. John's hands moving all around your body and yours rubbing/periodically squeezing his thigh.

Everything felts like it was going slowly, both of you senses being heighten making you feel absolute bliss.

"This is probably the best high/bender I've ever had. Especially because it's with you sunshine... hehehe I bet that sounds cheese" John spoke looking down a bit with a small smile.

"It's really sweet my love and the same applies to me. This bliss combined with your bliss is just... I actually don't have words for it. It's that good" Y/N tried to form a coherent sentence while putting one hand under the ghoul's chin so he'd be looking as you spoke.

The both of you moan loud as the chems kicked a bit more. You both go back to touching eachother so you both wouldn't go mad of the lack of physical affection. When you are on your benders you both absolutely need physical affection from the other. It makes the high a lot more enjoyable and your hunger for touch it satisfied.

The hours flew, by four in the morning you both were passed out in each others arms and sleeping as long as possible. Or until Fahrenheit got concerned woke the both of you up.

[queenvidal]

The Missing Piece

Chapter 2: Strange Feelings

Chapter Summary: Goodneighbor is facing quite some problems but Hancock needs a break. It's hard to concentrate with his mind spiraling back to the woman from the vault.

Wordcount: 2159

Chapter Index:

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9

Masterlist

The last week has been a mess.

The group of green skins that have attacked Nick and Blue settled down not far away from Goodneighbor. In fact, they came far too close for Hancock’s liking. He and Fahrenheit spend the last few days working hard on finding a solution. So hard even that John didn’t have time to take one of his little chem breaks every now and then to take off the edge.

His usually blurred mind sobered up over the time and got almost completely clear and sharp and it just wouldn’t shut up. Though being sober isn't something John is unfamiliar with, the sheer chaos in his head had kept him from concentrating. 

Thoughts were racing through his head, bringing past demons back into focus. His mind zoned out constantly, brought him back to diamond city, to the things he did and didn’t do. But the worst part was the anxiety. Out of the blue he’d feel knots tightening in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He’d find himself clenching onto his sofas or desk, his chest heaving. At first he thought it might be some kind of bad tripping or a response to the never ending flood of pictures in his head. But he knows what that feels like and it doesn’t come close to whatever is going on with him now. It’s something he has no idea how to handle.

His nerve-racking arm was just the cherry on the top. Amari couldn’t find what was causing that unpleasant feeling and ended up just injecting Med-X. It did not help in the slightest, but Hancock didn’t bother to tell her. He thanked her for her help with Blue and his arm and quickly left.

“Hancock, what the fuck?” She asks, looking up from the map on the table. John’s face stays unreadable sternly, if she wouldn’t know him as well as she does, she’d find it quite intimidating. “That’s just bullshit! Are you even listening to what I’m saying? We are low on supplies as it is.” She points onto the map. “We can't go in with two teams, the two blocks are still raider territory, we'd have to -"

Needless to say that John’s mood soured quickly over the past few days and Fatenheit is getting sick of it.

“I’ve said two teams and two teams will get sent.” His voice is uncomfortably calm. The guards around the makeshift warrable share uneasy glances. Hancock has been really on edge like he is right now. To call the atmosphere in the room tense would be an understatement. 

Fahrenheit doesn’t care about what he wants. “I won’t send our men on a suicide mission just because these mutants hurt the robots little girlfriend.”

John's knuckles are turning white from the tight grip on the table. “You do as I say.”

“Nope. Know what,  I’m out.” Fahrenheit rounds the table to go for the door. She snips into the air, getting her men moving out of the room. “I am fucking tired of your irrational and stubborn orders. We'll adjourn this whole revenge trip of yours until you get your shit together. Go get your ass to The Third Rail and get wasted or something. It is absolutely impossible to work with you right now!" And with that the woman steps out of the office, leaving Hancock alone in the dim light of a few candles. 

He's furious. How dare she talk to him like that? As much as he treasures their friendship, this woman is crossing lines. At the end of the day, he's the mayor and she's just his right hand. He's in charge and that's something she needs to keep in mind. it's one thing to yell at him when they are private and talking eye to eye, no problem with that. But she has to fucking stay in line when it is business related. Especially with their men around.

Her current disobedience is maddening. And the damn migraine isn't helping either. Or his shaking hands. Or the cold sweet. For fuck sake, withdrawals already? The absolute last thing he wants to do is admitting that Fahrenheit was right. Maybe he really should take a break and drown himself in cheap whisky that  would make humans go blind. Maybe combined with jet, slowing his spinning mind that won't shut up about things he'd rather not think about.

Well, If they are still having jet and whisky, or alcohol in general that is. Their supply line is still cut. Another problem Hancock still has to solve. Maybe the mutants will kill the raiders or the other way around. That would be the easiest way but that again, nothing in the Commonwealth is easy.

Whatever. There is still an untouched 'survival kit' of all kinds of chems in the drawer of the mayor's desk. It definitely won't save his life when his town of criminals and junkies revolt against him for letting them dry down but at least he would be far away in mindless bliss when they paint his office with his guts.

Damn, since when did his thoughts go down such dark roads? John shakes his head, he really needs a break before his thoughts drive him crazy. With a sigh he takes his pack of smokes and leaves for The Third Rail.

When he passes Ham with a nod in greeting and enters the bar, he gets hit by the smell of cheap perfume, booze, smoke and vomit. Home.

The ghouls face cracks a smile when he sees his favorite detective sitting right at the bar, downing a longdrink, that smells exactly like coolant. Hancock takes the chair next to him. "Look who's here. Mind some company, Nicky?"

The synth huffs a laugh and takes a sip from his drink before he answers. "Not at all. And who am I to reject the mayor of Goodneighbor?"

Hancock orders two whiskeys and downs them both in one needy gulp. The liquid slowly burns its way down John's throat. Damn, he really needed that. While savoring the slow burn, he puts the glasses down with a loud clink.

Nick eyes Hancock with a questioning frown. "Ehm. A bit eager, are we?" Charlie refills the glasses without a comment and hovers away to the other guests. 

John pulls out a pack of smokes from his pocket, taking one out and offers Nick one as well. The detective doesn't say no but the frown doesn't leave his face when he takes one.

"Long day in the office." John sighs as he lights up his cigarette before taking a long drag. "How are you doing, Nicky, everyone treating you alright?"

Nick simply nods before he takes another sip. "Yeah, yeah."

John notices the tiredness in the synth's voice. Something is the matter. "So." The ghoul starts. "And what is your excuse for being here? Despite the girls and drinks?" Hancock lets his gaze wander through the bar. All familiar faces are sitting on crates, listening to Magnolia, drinking, fainting. Nothing out of the ordinary. A black haired woman meets his eyes, she smiles at him from under her bangs. Hancock acknowledges her by tipping his hat down a bit before he returns his attention back to his friend who still didn't answer his question.

Nick's eyes are glued at the almost empty glass in his hand while he takes long drags of his cigarette. He looks lost in thought, like he is pouting for whatever reason. "C'mon Nicky, what's bothering you? Everything alright with your vaultie?"

The synth just shakes his head. Eventually he sighs, "No, not really." John feels his stomach drop at that. Were her injuries more severe than they thought, did she catch an infection? All kinds of scenarios are floating around in his head. Nick takes another drag, "But I guess the Doc already told you." 

Actually she didn't. John hasn’t talked to her since Nick and Blue came into town. His arm did really go on his nerves, but he didn’t want to bother Amari with it again. He figured it might be part of his ghoulification. Losing some parts other than the nose and ears is normal, usually a toe or two. To lose whole limbs is possible but it's  very, very rare. Definitely not something John would be looking forward to but in the end he knew what he got himself into when he made his decision to become one. 

Also the last days were very stressful.  He was so occupied with his arm and the super mutants, he simply forgot to ask the doc about the woman from a vault. 

Which is a total lie.

John found his mind taking him back to the night where Nick and Blue stumbled through the gates ever so often. But lying to himself is easier than facing his worries for a person he barely met. Or the strange clenching of his guts whenever he memorized Blue’s wound and the sheer amount of blood all over her suit and Nick.

John tears his mind away from the memory, "Haven't spoken to her since you two came here. What's wrong?"

The vague answer only adds to the uneasy feeling in Hancock guts. "Care to be a bit more precise?"

Nick just sighs. “A lot.”

"She… well, let's say she's been through a lot and it shows - mentally."

Now that just piques John's curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"You know I don't talk about running investigations, Hancock."

So Blue is an actual client of his. Why the hell would somebody from a vault leave one of the safetes places in the Commonwealth behind to ask a synth detective for help? John hits the synth on his shoulder lightly. "Come on now, Nick. Don't leave me hanging here like that."

Nick puts out his cigarette in an ashtray before looking up to answer. "She's in the Rexford. Talk to her if you want to know more about her story, it's not my place to tell."

Hancock just rolls with his eyes. Of course he could just do that but if he’s honest to himself, her private matters are none of his business. Sure, he could defend himself by playing the 'I'm the mayor of the town and saved your life' card but that's not his style. And technically did Amari save her life - He just stabbed Finn out of the way.

John cringes internally at that. Damn, shes a fucking vaultie after all, her people are not used to the harsh reality outside their giant metal doors. Hell, she even most likely never saw a ghoul before. What  must she be thinking of him-

"Good evening, mayor Hancock."

The soft voice behind the men makes them turn their heads towards the source of it. It’s the black haired girl from the table on the other side of the bar.

"Good evening yourself-" John knows her, he is certain of it but what's her name again? Mindy? Suzi? "Pretty." Or just go with harmless, flattering pet names. A method that proved to be very sufficient over the years. The woman gives him a bright smile in response. "What can I do for you?" John asks even though he already knows what she's up to.

She bites her lower lip playfully, all of the sudden acting shy. "Well, I wondered if you'd like to have some company later, you know?”

Yeah, just like John thought. Nick looks at him with a knowing smile on his face but doesn't say anything. The ghoul considers her invention for a moment. The main dilemma for the last few years, ever since he became mayor of Goodneighbor - Sex or drugs. 

Both at the same time can be fun, too. But the possibility of passing out during a one night stand, being that vulnerable around a person who is just interested in his caps or chems, or just has a weird ghoul fetish, that's stuff nightmares are made of. At least his. So no, both are not an option.

"You can have him." Nick says nonchalantly as he stands up from his chair. "I've finished my drink anyway and I have a client to take care of." 

Jealousy hits John like a bolt of lightning. A feeling he didn't have in a very long time. It's so sudden and without warning, it takes him off guard. He tries not to read too much into that and turns his attention back to Trudy. Or Ruby? The woman takes Nick's seat immediately even though John hasn't answered yet. With a sigh on the remaining of his lips he just gives in. No drugs tonight then. But before Nick is out of earshot, John calls after him. There is one burning question he needs an answer for. "Nick! Blue ain't her real name, is it?"

The synth waves at him as he makes his way to the exit. "It's not."

Chapter Index:

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9

Masterlist

Taglist: @loverofclones / @squeakythedragon / @martinys-world / @id-rather-be-in-middle-earth

[omgeveryusernameistakenicanteven]

Sunshine on a Rainy Day

John Hancock x Sole

Bro all I want is to cuddle Hancock wHY is he just a video game character???

“Sunshine?”

Sole quickly wipes her eyes with her sleeve. Still sitting on the ground with her knees to her chest, “What do you want?” She can’t entirely suppress the wavers in her voice. Only an hour earlier her boyfriend–well, ex-boyfriend–had broken up with her in a heated argument and he admitted that he was only ever with her for fame and caps. Turns out being the lover of the Commonwealth’s greatest hero is a pretty lucrative gig, she thought with a huff. He made it crystal clear exactly what he actually thought of her. That’s how she came to be huddled up on a rainy night in the streets of Goodneighbor.

It was lucky, she supposed, that it hadn’t been her now ex that found her. No, it’s the beloved Mayor of Goodneighbor that plops himself onto the soaking cobblestones beside her. Sole’s bottom lip wobbles and she chokes on a sob, “Hancock.”

The mayor scoots closer, draping his coat around her shoulders, “It’s cold out here, Sunshine.”

Instead of answering Sole lets out another sob and turns to bury her face in his shoulder. He holds her steady, lets her cry into him and gently rubs her back while she’s overtaken by her grief. Finally she sniffs one last time and looks up to him only to find him looking right back. His coal black eyes reflect the neon lights across the street. Sole is sure she’s never seen anything more beautiful.

[fandom-go-round]

Could you do shy reader hinting at sex scenarios with Danse, Gage, Hancock and MacCready?

Warnings: Sex, Sexual Situations, Teasing, Obliviousness, Implied Dom/Sub, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Begging, Implied Canon Typical Violence

Danse:

Danse is oblivious, especially if there’s a mission to be done. He has a bit of a one-track mind and gets absorbed in what you’re working towards. It’s great when you’re looking to get more supplied or hunt down raiders. Less so when you’re trying to hint at sex. And have been hinting at sex for over a week now.

He only really gets the hints if others point them out or if you get really desperate. He’ll completely deny it if Hancock teases him, or Nick gives him the side eye but it will prompt him to talk to you about it. When you confirm that you’ve been trying to get his attention all week, he’ll get embarrassed but suggest that you go somewhere private.

Danse likes to take his time if the two of you are going to have sex. He’s a bit of a romantic at heart and he wants your time together to be meaningful. It’s sweet to have him shower you with kisses and his fingers but it can also be maddening. You’ll have to beg if you want him to go faster and he’ll eagerly let you set the pace. You’re the boss here and he’s not going to complain about that.

Gage:

Gage is torn between thinking it’s really cute and shaking his head. How long have the two of you been together? And you’re still so shy? He loves it but it is kind of funny. He notices right away when you start hinting at sex, letting you get more creative as time goes on. He especially loves it when you lean over and stick your ass out; a great view and an excuse to pinch.

He turns it into a game of how long he can pretend that he doesn’t notice while leaving hints that he really does. He’ll ignore you leaning in closer but then drags his fingers over your sensitive spot in the next conversation. Gage will rev you up as much as you rev him up and it’s all in good fun. It can get frustrating when he doesn’t go to the next stage even if you both know he knows.

Gage loves it when you beg and these are moments that he craves. You between his legs, not looking him in the eye but whimpering out ‘please’ as you tug on his pants. Nothing is as big of an ego boost than you on your knees and he loves every second of it. Play by his rules and you’re in for a fantastic night.

Hancock:

Oh he knows the minute that you start hinting at sex. He can look at you and know that you’re aching for him. Is that going to get him to do anything? Depends on how generous he’s feeling. He loves a good chase and if you’re with him, chances are you do too. He likes to flirt and tease and he’ll give as good as he gets.

He loves to tease you and get you flustered, especially if you turn away and try to ignore him. His jokes with get dirtier and his praise will get more suggestive as time goes on. The others might scold him for being too up front but he truly does mean most of what he says. If you flip the script and say something back to him, a teasing comment or sexy reply, Hancock shuts right up, getting flustered himself. He knows that you’re attracted to him but some days it still surprises him.

Sex happens one of two ways. He’ll either crack, after a fight or some other high stakes incident. You get a perfect shot between the eyes, and it was the sexiest fucking thing and he has to eat you out right then and there. Or you hint at sex and he makes it more romantic, getting you dinner and finding a place with nice sheets. Both ways show that he cares, it just depends on what’s available at the time. Let this man between your legs and you will never be disappointed.

MacCready:

He’s somewhere in the middle; he might not notice right away that you���re trying to hint at sex but he will figure it out. MacCready is rusty when it comes to flirting but he does enjoy it. He’s not as big a tease as Hancock but he will hold out on you for a little while.

He really enjoys touching you, everything from innocent to sexual. Giving your shoulder a squeeze, holding your hand, pulling you out of harms way; MacCready could die a happy man if his hands were on you. It can drive you crazy how much he doesn’t seem to notice he’s turning you on. His hand will rest on your thigh and start rubbing circles without him realizing and you’re dying on the inside.

MacCready loves nothing more than when you get demanding. Grab him by the jacket and tug him into a room and he’s all yours. Alternatively, he likes to make you come to him, smirking and crooking his fingers at you. He makes up for his teasing by getting you off as many times as you’d like. He might play dirty but you’re always going to end up on the winning side.

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 11: Petplay with Hancock.

Pairing: John Hancock x Fem!Reader/Sole

Word Count: 2689

Warnings: Petplay, Oral (M receiving), Reader/Sole is refered to as Kitten and Kitty, P in V sex, Unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it), Mention of Reader/Sole being in Subspace. Kinktober Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

“Petplay?” His raspy voice questioned as we shared a cigarette on the couch in his office in the Statehouse.

“Yeah.” You answered hesitantly, eyes locked on the burning cherry as you took a slow drag. “It’s pretty much exactly what it sounds like, but the jist is one partner pretends to be an animal, most go for a dog or a cat, easiest to imitate, and the other partner is the owner. Sometimes it’s sexual, sometimes it’s not…For me it is…” You were thankful for the low light of the room as you felt your face flaring.

It wasn’t every day that you asked your partner to treat you like a cat in bed, even if it was something you’d done before, but it was different when time for ‘normal’ sex was so far between because of, you know, total atomic annihilation taking over the world.

“And you want us to try it?” He clarified carefully, taking the cig back from you and taking a drag. You knew Hancock was no stranger to risky sex or kink, the man had openly told you about some of his craziest sexcapades in his life, but there was still a measure of fear and vulnerability in what you were asking that made you worry for his answer.

“Yeah.” You said on a breath, like you’d just been holding it.

“You know, Dollface, you never cease to surprise me. Just when I think I got you all figured out, you ask for some of the sexiest shit I’ve ever heard of.” He smirked as you realized he was being aloof on purpose.

You let out a hard sigh as some of the anxiety bled from you. “Dick…” You muttered, shaking your head. “I’ve been trying to find a time to ask about it, we’re both just always so busy, either with the Minutemen, or Goodneighbor, or Shawn…Hard to find a good time for anything but a quickie.”

He nodded along with your words, you were right, things had been unusually busy as of late. “Then maybe it’s time we take a day or two to ourselves, I can leave Goodneighbor in Fahrenheits hands, you can leave Preston in charge for a bit, I bet Piper or Nick would love to have Shawn for a day or two.” He pulled you to his side and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Then, we can have at each other till the sun comes up and goes back down again.” He pressed another sweet kiss to your head, then he whispered in your ear. “I wanna hear what my kitty sounds like when she purrs for me…”

His words sent a thrill down your spine and made butterflies flutter in your belly. There was heat in your eyes as you looked up at him, seconds from leaning in for a kiss when a sharp knock sounded at the office door. “Quick fucking, there’s work needs done!” Came Fahrenheits ever annoyed voice.

“Wish we had been fucking…” Hancock groaned as he threw his head back in frustration, then looked at you out the corner of his eyes. “Duty calls, Sweets.” Then he was on his feet and offering his hand to you. “Care to join? I think most of these thugs are more scared of you thank her at this point.” He joked.

You snorted a laugh as you let him pull you to your feet. “With Ashmaker in her hands, somehow I doubt that…” You answered as you both went to meet with the redhead.

It was another three weeks before everything was set up for you and Hancocks little vacation. As far as you knew, that was because of how long it took for everything to calm down even slightly and get word sent to all the parties involved in making it happen, but what you didn’t know was that it was partially Hancock stalling while he waited for a surprise to arrive by courier.

But when all was ready, Shawn was in Diamond City with Piper and Nat, Fahrenheit was ruling the roost in Goodneighbor, and Preston was shooing you away with the promise to keep the Minutemen from imploding in your absence.

This meant you and Hancock could disappear to your hidey-hole in the Red Rocket Station, where no one would bother you.

Walking through the door felt like being able to breathe again.

Hancock wasted no time taking your pack from you and disappearing into the backroom, which had long since been repurposed as a bedroom. “I’ll take care of these, go ahead and start getting comfortable.” He said with a quick kiss to your cheek before he was gone.

His rush had been expected, he was as pent up at you, but usually that meant he was clingy, wanting constant contact and never leaving your side. Normally he would have asked you to come with him to unpack.

Rather than let your suspicious curiosity get the better of you, you went to the garage, also repurposed as a living room, and fixed the pair of you a couple drinks then plopping down on the couch with a happy sigh.

Hancock called into the room a moment later asking if you minded turning the radio on, and when you got up to do so you heard him enter the room behind you. There was a split second of shuffling before he was at your back, pressing kisses to your neck and down to where it met your shoulder.

“God, I missed this…” He hummed happily as a slow song began to play.

The pair of you started to sway before he turned you and pulled you into a proper slow dance, foreheads pressed together tenderly, lost each other’s embrace as music filled the room.

He spun you slowly before pulling you back in and pulling you into a kiss, soft and slow just like the moment. No rushing, no urgency, just you and him, and all the time in the world to enjoy each other.

When the song ended you both sat on the couch to enjoy your drinks and relax from the road. Conversation never lacked for the pair of you, even if you were being very intentional about not talking about work, there were a thousand and one things you two could and did talk about.

Once your glasses were empty Hancock sat up. “I have a surprise for you, figured if we wanted to do this, we were gonna do it right.” He said as he reached over the end of the couch where you couldn’t see and produced a box. “Took some time to find someone to make it, and get it to us, but it was worth it.” He said as he passed it to you.

You lifted a brow. “What is it?” You asked, though you were already opening it slowly, like you expected it to blow up. Inside you were met with a headband with a pair of cat ears on it. The quality was certainly nothing like what you’d seen pre-war, but it was still beautifully made.

Soft fur the same color as your hair on a simple thin black fabric headband, thin enough that it would disappear into your hair when you put it on. You wondered for a moment how the maker had so perfectly matched your hair color, or where the fur had been sourced from, but those were questions for later, it didn’t feel human, and that was good enough for you.

You were at a loss for words as you looked at it. It was perfect.

“I’m gonna assume from your stunned silence that you like it?” Hancock teased softly as he watched you, chuckling softly when all you could respond with was a nod. “Good. I was worried it wouldn’t arrive before we left, but the courier showed up while you were packing yesterday.” He admitted, looking down at it bashfully. “You barely missed seeing him before he left.”

You recalled the moment he was talking about; you’d come outside to ask him where something was and he was holding the box and jumped when you said his name, then made a comment about needing to cut down on the jet.

“Wanna put it on?” He asked, an excited expectancy radiating from him, like a kid on Christmas morning.

You nodded. “Mind giving me a hand?” You asked, offering it to him.

“It would be my pleasure.” He said as he scooted closer and took it from you then carefully slipped the band around your head, moving your hair around till it covered the band and left only the ears visible.

“How’s it look?” You asked as he sat back to look at you.

“Purrfect.” He joked with a smirk, pulling a snorting laugh from you.

“Shut up, you cornball!” You managed through your giggles.

He leaned in as they died down and with a much softer grin said. “Beautiful. You’re always beautiful, but they suit you perfectly.” Then he pulled you into a tender kiss.

When you parted you felt the air shift slightly. “C-can I…?” You didn’t need to finish the question before he was nodding, eyes half lidded and full of heat.

He watched as you slipped off the couch to settle on the floor between his legs, sitting back on your heels in as close a manner to how a cat sits as you can manage, hands on the floor between your knees. His lips parted as he let out a careful breath at the sight.

“Look at you…” He drawled as he looked you over. “Never seen a prettier kitty in my life.” He said, slipping into the part of the owner easily, and you preened under his praise as he sat up a bit and ran a rough hand over your head, petting you sweetly.

Slipping into the headspace was easy, even after all the time that had passed, a small mewl fell from your lips as you nuzzled into his touch happily, and he continued to pet you as you settled against his leg, lazily rubbing into him the way a cat does when scenting, making little sounds like a purr.

“Such a good girl, Kitten…So beautiful…” He was speaking softly as he watched you descend further and further into subspace.

He’s seen you like this plenty of times, the two of you are kinky ass motherfuckers and it comes with the territory, but he never gets tired of watching your brain go blank and float away, the way your muscles loosen and the tension in your face drains away.

And God does he love to take care of you when you’re like that.

“Kitties don’t wear clothes, do they?” He murmured as he looked you over.

One could call it a team effort, taking off your clothes, but really it was mostly you lifting your arms and maneuvering however he needed you to to get them off, and once you were sat there, fully nude, was when you saw he was already hard and straining against the front of his pants.

The action was entirely without thought as you leaned in and nuzzled against the bulge, and it punched a shocked groan out of him. “Fuck, baby…!” He gasped, but didn’t stop you as you continued, but soon it wasn’t enough for either of you, and you reached out to untie the flag he used as a belt to get access to what you wanted.

“So needy, Kitten…Here, let me help.” He said, moving your fumbling fingers out of the way and taking over, untying the flag, then unbuttoning and zipping the past, pulling himself free with a relieved sigh.

“No paws, don’t want those claws to hurt me, do you?” He said with a teasing quirk of his lips.

You shook your head before leaning in, first brushing your lips over his sensitive tip, followed by your tongue. Calling them kitten licks is on the nose, but it’s really the only way to describe how you ran your tongue over his heated flesh.

When the tip began to leak you took it in your mouth and gave a slow suck, earning a low moan and hand gripping your hair. “Shit…Just like that…” He moaned as you sank lower, taking more of him in till you could bob your head slowly.

A look up found him already looking down at you, lips parted and breaths coming hard, eyes dark and drinking you in like water, it made a wave of heat roll through you, making your thighs clench in an effort to get some relief.

His eyes darted down to track the movement. “Think you can go to the bedroom for me? I’ll be right behind you.” He promised as he gazed down at you with those pitch-black eyes, always so full of life and emotion for all their monochrome color.

You made a sound like an affirmative and shifted to your hands and knees, now fully in the headspace and feeling no shame or embarrassment at crawling through the makeshift house to the bedroom, the whole time feeling his eyes on you.

You waited kneeling on the floor for him, and he came in shortly after with a can of clean water and a rag in hand, which found their home on the nightstand.

He stood over you next to the bed and patten the mattress. “Up you go.” He prompted, and you wasted not time climbing up. Once you were settled, he returned to petting your hair with one hand while the other tilted your chin up to look at him, he had this look in his eyes like he could stare at you forever if you let him.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in and left kisses on your forehead, then your temple, cheek, nose, and then finally lips. You sighed into the contact and leaned in, hands gripping at the sheets to keep you from falling into him with how off kilter you felt.

“Turn around and bend over for me, I want to see my Kittens pretty pussy.” He ordered against your lips before letting go so you could do as told.

And you did, with shaky legs and arms, body desperate for his touch, you faced away from him and pressed your face into the bed, ass in the air, which cooled the slick that had been leaking from you since you opened that box.

Hancock groans behind you at the sight before you feel him take your hips in hand. “Fuck…Now, that is a pretty sight…” He said before dragging a finger through your sopping folds. Letting out a high pleading sound you pressed back into his hold, only to earn a light slap to your rear. “Now, now. Don’t be impatient.” He chided before his touch disappeared, leaving you feeling a little adrift.

But then you heard the sound of fabric hitting the floor and his touch returned, and this time it was the thick tip of his cock that was teasing you, and it took everything in you not to buck back into him, desperate for him to fill you up.

Thankfully he didn’t make you wait long before he was pushing into you, his low moan mixing with your high gasp as he pushed in to the hilt. No movements were made for a short moment, the air was silent, then he started moving, and the sounds of skin on skin, the wet noises of his cock filling over and over, and both your pleasure wracked voiced formed a symphony in the room.

It was the kind of noise you couldn’t make at home, lest someone hear through the hole riddled walls.

The pleasure was shorter lived than either of you would have liked, so pent up from weeks without each other, that you both build up and came crashing down in a mess of shaking limbs and grasping hands.

But as quickly as the first round ended, the second one began, and Hancock was far from done with his Kitten.

[bisexualiteaa]

ASKS ARE OPEN!!

So I’m really enjoying all the ideas and asks I’ve been getting so far! I’ve been having a lot of fun writing them for my fellow ghoul simps so if anyone has requests for our lovely cowboy ghoul, I would love to fulfill them the best that I can! 🥰

I write:

Smut: this is my main specialty ngl, I write it with or w/o plot but mostly for fem/gender neutral readers. I don’t kink shame by any means, but I personally don’t write anything for water sports or anything dealing with bodily excrement, the only fluids I write are blood, spit and cum (lol that’s funny to say, never thought I’d put that in a sentence but here we are!) I don’t usually do full Non-Con unless it is for background of the character, I am open to Dub-con, otherwise I’m open to pretty much everything else! I absolutely DO NOT write anything dealing with minors, everyone in my smut is 18+ and I will not sway on that.

Fluff: mostly domestic fluff but I’m down to broaden my horizons and do something different!

Angst: I got trauma y’all, I’m down to write for just about anything lol. Love a good, deep story and a nice sob now and again.

I write only for the ghoul right now because he is the only one I feel I have the best judge of character on for the show, and to be fully honest, is my main huperfixation at the moment. 💀 But I absolutely love our man John Hancock from Fallout 4 too, so I’m down to write for him!

I am rather new to Fallout lore as a whole, whether it’s the games or the TV series and everything else in between so please be patient and gentle with me if I do not have a full understanding of something or if I picture things incorrectly I am open to constructive criticism to make my works better! That being said, I try my best to be well versed in the characters/things I write about! So if I am not already familiar with something, I will learn! I just ask for some patience. ❤️

That being said, I look forward to all the ideas you lovely people have in mind! Hopefully I can do all your asks justice! ❤️

[dazed-and-confused23]

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 5

Pure Indulgence

Summary: Cooper doesn't know how he got here, but he's with you, and that's all that matters to him. Now if only the other ghoul that wears a tricorn hat would leave you the fuck alone, he'd be having a much better time. However, for you, he could learn to share.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader / John Hancock x Reader

Warnings: Drinking and drug use. Plans are made some light petting.

Part 2 -> HERE

Masterlist

John Hancock knows a good thing when he sees one, and you were definitely one of the best things that's he's ever lain his black eyes on. You were a wastelander. He could tell that by the way you held yourself, but the mayor could tell that you hadn't let the world shape you in a bad way. No, you took the world in your hands and shaped it to how you wanted it.

However, he could say a lot less about the ghoul that'd come in with you. He stuck to the back of the bar, feet kicked up on a table, and hat pulled down to cover his eyes. He'd not said a word, only dropped into the chair, but John wasn't stupid. The newcomer only had eyes for you, which made his game all the more fun.

"Well, not every day that someone new comes stumbling into my town," Hancock drawls as he steps up beside you, his voice rough and smokey, "Names Hancock."

He admires the way you cock a brow at him, not impressed what so ever, and repeat him, "Your town?"

John nods, his weathered lips pulling into a proud smirk, "Mhm, yeah. I'm the mayor of this little slice of heaven. If you ever need anything, I'm your man."

His cock twitches in interest when you regale him with a heavy lidded look, your lips quirking in an amused smirk that he wants to wipe away with a kiss, or his dick. Preferably both.

"Well, Mr. Mayor, I'll have to keep that in mind," you say, and Hancock picks up your accent this time and gives you a look of surprise.

"Not from around here, Doll?" He asks you and gets a nod in response. John sees movement out of the corner of his eye and notices that the ghoul has finally moved, stalking across the room to sit at the bar beside you. He eyes John, and something about the ghoul has his hackles rising, and his fingers itching for his knife.

"You makin' friends over here without me, Darlin'?" The newcomer asks, and you surprise John be snickering and bumping your shoulder against the cowboy.

"Wouldn't be me if I didn't. Are you getting jealous, Coop?" You tease and turn to send a wink at Hancock. He smirks right back and shifts in his seat, his knees bumping against your own.

Cooper would very much like to strangle the other ghoul that has your attention, please, and thank you. This guy's like him, whole and complete, not rotting with peeling skin and exposed bone. Fucker was probably handsome when he'd been a human. He doesn't like that you're so interested in him, and green jealousy burns bright in his chest.

"Any man would be jealous," Hancock says and boldly reaches out, his hand landing on the smoothskin's thigh, his thumb rubbing distracting circles. He flicks his black eyes up and locks with Cooper’s own, a dangerous smirk crossing his thin lips.

Coop sneers back, eyes full of blazing fury until you clear your throat and glance back at him. He grins at you, though it's mean and full of teeth with dark promises. An idea suddenly strikes him, and he cocks his head to the side then shifts forward, arm winding around your waist and chin hooking over your shoulder.

"One ghoul not enough for you, Sugar?" He purred in your ear and smirked at the way you shivered, eyes going half lidded with interest at his sudden change in behavior. Cooper met John's black eyes and eyed the other man, "You greedy for an extra set of hands?"

Hancock watched the exchange and smoothed his hand up your thigh, fingertips dipping in between your thighs and stroking along your clothed sex. The sound he makes is closer to a growl, and it lingers in his voice, "I think I can have that arranged."

[aoiveae-monsters]

John Hancock x Male Reader

First time writing about this guy, might do more in the future.

Sfw

John Hancock, when he loves someone he doesn't hide it

Gives you the sweetest nicknames

The ideal date for him is taking you out and starting trouble.

John would Stab a man for you and has actually done so in the past. It's how you two met

A true romantic

He even gifts you a knife and you two stab someone

John may not show it all the time but he is infact a little insecure about him being a Ghoul. He doesn't regret becoming one but he worries that you don't want to see this in the morning next to you

Reasure and pepper his face with kisses, caress it and with each stroke and kiss, Cover him praise. Hancock could swear he fell in love a second time, he stayed in your embrace for while like that. Taking your hands and giving them kisses as thanks, before taking your face and kissing your lips.

But if you ever feel insecure, John will not hesitate to crush those thoughts. Kissing every part of your body before telling you all the things he loves about his man

Whenever you are feeling down for whatever reason, John will hold you in his arms, kissing the top of your head and stay like this for as long as you like. Listening when you want to speak and if you just want to be in quiet? He won't mind that either

John was always running away from things in his life, in some shape or form, everything but you. Wherever he goes, he wants to be with you. He can't imagine a world without you. To him you are his everything, he loves you beyond meassure.

Which is why he talked with you about becoming a ghoul. John isn't immortal but he'll still outlive you. A thought that greatly pains him. Becoming a ghoul would put that thought away, you two won't be seperated by time

He'll understand if you don't want too. John will treasure every moment with you.

But if you agree, he'll be relieved and happy. Not having to fear seeing you wither away

You and John would live with eachother for countless years, happy and together

NSFW 18+

John is a switch, he loves dominanting you and getting the same done to him

He is a romantic, slowly pulling your clothes off, kissing the exposed skin

Do the same to him and he'll let out the most rumbling groans.

If for whatever reason you aren't there and he is horny, he'll mastrubate. Yet denying himself release, edging himself so when you return, he can cum with your help instead

John has no shame in admitting that he loves being on his knees for you, eagerly sucking your dick. Facefuck the ghoul and he'll moan endlessly. Hold his head in place with your dick down his throat, while softly caressing his face and cooing at him. John could almost cum from that alone

Squeeze his head between you thighs and his eyes roll a little back

The Ghoul also loves having you between his legs. Sitting down, legs spread wide, teasing his tip. definitely bucks his hips a few times when you tease too much. Catching you off guard, accidentally making you choke

The bastard even let's out a chuckle.

Foreplay is one of his favorite parts, making you cum with his fingers and tongue alone while opening you up brings him great satisfaction. Refuses to start fucking you without bringing you over the edge once before having his dick inside you

Is on cloud nine when you ride him, admiring the way you bounce in his dick. Running his hands along your body, worshiping you

John can however, also put you in a mating press or on all fours, jackhammering into you. Hitting your prostate over and over again, until you are nothing but a moaning mess. Filled to the brim by his cum.

Having you suck the ghoul off, while being knuckles deep inside him makes John cum extremely fast, thighs shaking as you continue, ripping another orgasam out of the mayor of goodneighbor.

The way John's back arches and moans while you slide yourself into him is addicting.

He looks absolutely breathtaking on his back, legs spread wide and in your hands, ramming into him.

Black eyes roll back as you hit his prostate, kissing him while he moans in your mouth

John enjoys it when you cum inside him but probably loves it more when you pull out and cum on his face, making a mess out of him

John Hancock enjoys riding your cock as much he enjoys it when you ride him.

Overstimulates himself whenever he does it. To addicted to you to stop

When all is done, he lays beside you. Small or big spoon, doesn't matter. He just want's his sunshine close to him.

[samalong1]

John hancock as a father

Stepdad to synth shaun

It's weird one of his most popular speeches is about how synths won't replace his people.

But with the institute gone and him knowing he's willing to relax

He'll treat him as a kid but not quite they don't want to eat mukfruit not like he's gonna grow

He's building guns eh he's made of sone sort of metal

At good neighbor he warns all watchmen that any gab about his step son bring a synth gets their ass out on the street

He'll play ball with Shaun extra points if it's the bat from when he was a baby

Shaun probalky won't ever call him dad but that's ok veibg the cool step dad John makes up for it

He won't do as many drugs around Shaun but once in a while will and hanging around him high its not like the drugs will kill Shaun or do anything really

Your pregnant

It's not his but with him being a filthy ghoul probally through some threescore or a open reltionship hookup

He'll promise to step up to thr role but won't take it seriously till the baby is born

It's rare for pregnancies to come to term with radiation and constant danger it's the main reason their aren't alot of kids in a world with no birth control or condoms

He is doubtful you'll carry to term due to the fact but will do anything to keep you comfortable

Soon part of his office is divided up to a private room for you

Soon all his drug use is taken outside to avoid 2nd hand he doesn't mind good chance to get caught up with his people

Once the baby is born he'll hide all his chems and never smoke around the kid since it could actually have effects

He'll still parent high tho

He loves playing with his kids

If they ever fight over toys he'd cut them in half

[nukaberries]

Hey! I love your writing, you capture the characters so well 🙈 I was wondering if you could maybe write about what a wedding between a f!Sole and Hancock would look like??

Hey! That's so sweet, thank you!! I was worried about writing anyone out of character so I'm glad you think I was accurate <33 This is so wholesome though, I love Hancock so much!! I'm also loving these wedding/proposal asks, they're so fun to write!! (Plus I associate weddings and marriage with Lover by Taylor Swift, which might be one of my favourite albums atm!)

//

Hancock Marrying a F!Sole Survivor

Nobody has ever seen John Hancock this stressed out in his entire life, desperate to make sure that not only does his big day go down smoothly, but that it's the best day of your life. His determination is actually quite intimidating to a lot of the residents of Goodneighbor.

He's never actually been to a wedding before, so he's completely out of his depth if he's doing anything right. He just hopes that at the very least, you'll appreciate the thought he put into everything - and he'll never stop apologising that a bloatfly flew onto the cake when he wasn't looking.

He's also pretty sure that Daisy was lying when she said she's qualified to officiate a marriage, that apparently she married her brother and his wife way back when. Not that Hancock cares much about pre-war traditions, the marriage doesn't need to be legally official, so long as you know how much you mean to him.

It's safe to say that John isn't a particularly conventional guy but if you really want him to, he'll dress up in a suit and tie (just don't ask him to take the hat off). He'll also be more than happy, no matter what you choose to wear, whether that be a dress, a suit or if you just wear casual attire, so long as you're comfortable.

For the most part, he stumbles his way anxiously through his vows, which is hard to believe, considering most people have only ever known him as the charismatic mayor of Goodneighbor. But you don't seem to mind all that much, so he doesn't really care what anyone else might have to say about it.

And, yeah, he definitely tears up during your own vows - although, he tries to hide it. It doesn't even matter what you say, you could be speaking in a language he doesn't understand and he'd still stare lovingly at you, in awe of the fact that someone as incredible as you actually wanted to spend the rest of their life with him. What did he ever do to deserve you?

The first kiss the two of you share as a married couple instantly goes down as the best kiss of his life. Just knowing what it signified, that you were willing to be by his side for all eternity, is enough for him to treasure it. It makes the entire wedding feel all the more real to him, instead of a dream of some perfect life he'd never get. You're actually married, he's actually your husband.

He manages to pull himself together for the party after, it's only small, a few of both your close friends and some Goodneighbor residents. For a Goodneighbor party, it's actually pretty peaceful, which he's grateful for. Although, half way through, Hancock does end up regretting asking MacCready to be his best man when insists on getting up to make a speech - minus the one story he tells about the time John got high and thought he could fist fight a Yaoi Guai, it's actually not all that embarrassing.

Depending on your own preference, Hancock will stay at the party until the early hours of the morning, or he'll leave early if you decide the two of you need the space. He cares more about being around you than anyone else anyway, and he'll find a way to excuse the both of you.

Hancock won't leave your side for the next few days . . Or weeks. Still unable to believe you're his wife, and not wanting to waste one second of it, as though you'll disappear if he leaves you alone for too long. He will understand if you need the space though, don't worry, he'll do his best not to smother you.