#female sole survivor x hancock

[ghoul-foolery]

Dirty Windows | 2 | Nora x Hancock

A Fallout 4 Soulmate AU

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Summary:

Hancock never thought he would find his soulmate. Once a common occurrence, soulmates turned into a bit of a rarity after the bombs dropped. It was to be expected when there was an influx of people getting shot in the face on a daily basis. So when Hancock discovered that he had a soulmate he was ecstatic; all of the people in the Commonwealth, and he was one of the lucky few.

Too bad his soulmate didn't want anything to do with him.

When Nora thought for sure she was going to die too, the pain stopped – and then there was nothing. Nothing but the emptiness. Nothing but the grief. Half of her soul was suddenly gone forever. She was dropped in the middle of the ocean, drifting among the waves with no land in sight. Then just as suddenly she had been cast adrift, she found land. The hole was filled the moment it had been created. As she gripped Nate’s vault suit and begged him to open his eyes, Nora found herself battling with the horrifying realization that she had another soulmate; that some stranger had taken Nate's place.

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[ 1 ] - [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ]

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The moment the bullet entered Nate’s body, Nora had felt pain explode throughout the entirety of her being. The pain started in her chest, right where the bullet had entered Nate’s skin, and then it washed over her in a white-hot wave of anguish as her soulmate was ripped away. As a military spouse she had been forced to go through a number of classes designed to educate and prepare her for the potential loss of her soulmate. The sensation had been compared to being burned alive, and that didn’t include the vicious, yawning emptiness that came after. Nora had assumed that it was all a harsh exaggeration. It wasn’t.

In a couple of sparse seconds, which felt like an entire lifetime, Nora’s body was wracked with debilitating pain, the likes of which she had never experienced. And it was everywhere. She could feel it tearing at her innards, clawing through her brain, eviscerating her skin. When she thought for sure she was going to die too, the pain stopped – and then there was nothing. Nothing but the emptiness. Nothing but the grief. Half of her soul was suddenly gone forever. She was dropped in the middle of the ocean, drifting among the waves with no land in sight.

Then just as suddenly she had been cast adrift, she found land.

The hole was filled the moment it had been created. For a moment, Nora thought that maybe, just maybe, Nate was still alive. But he wasn’t. He was dead, and yet something was filling the space - his space. It was a sensation unlike any other, starkly contrasting the pain she had felt just a moment before. Warmth; gentle, and consuming. Something like companionship, and fondness.

As she gripped Nate’s vault suit and begged him to open his eyes, Nora found herself battling with the horrifying realization that she had another soulmate. Having more than one soulmate was a true rarity. There had been more than a handful of news stories that had covered the topic when it presented itself. Those people had lost their other half, but were given another. They always seemed so elated, and happy, and thankful. Nora, despite her grief, was nearly enraged. She wasn’t given time to properly process what had even happened before some stranger was thrust into Nate’s spot.

So, for the days after she left the vault, Nora pretended that this new soulmate didn’t exist. As the man figured out how their bond actually worked, Nora was busy steadfastly pretending that he didn’t exist. She ignored the man’s ragged, rasping voice as he reached out to her through their newly forged bond. Instead of paying the stranger any mind, Nora dove head first into searching for the man who killed her husband and kidnapped her kid. It wasn’t easy. Her new soulmate was insistent, and Nora had absolutely no clue what she was doing.

After understanding how hostile this new world was Nora decided that she was better off sneaking around anyone, or anything, that could be perceived as a threat. This new world wasn’t for someone like her, so as angry as she was that her new soulmate wouldn’t just shut up and leave her alone, she held onto each bit of advice he gave her – and he had a lot of advice to offer.

She pretended not to hear him when he told her that she needed to find a firearm, but when she found an ancient pistol she opted to hang on to it. Nate had been persistent in teaching her firearm basics, but she had always been a lousy shot. Better to have it than to not, though.

An old wooden baseball bat made it into her arsenal after he had mentioned that she needed to be mindful of her ammo consumption. Nate had taught her some self defense moves, and while he swore up and down that she could throw a mean right hook, she knew she wasn’t skilled enough to take someone down if she had to. The baseball bat would help.

She didn’t think to check computers before the voice mentioned trying to hack into one that was still on. He told her the command to type in and she committed it to memory, but she still went out of her way to pretend that she found the information on a scrap of paper.

She didn’t think to hoard bobby pins until he asked if she had any when she encountered her first locked door. Before she had a secure place to put them she started to thread them into her hair, or on the cuffs of her jumpsuit. She acquired a flathead screwdriver not long after.

Progress in finding her son was slow and, honestly, nonexistent. Eleanor Morrison had tackled everything in her life with unfaltering tenacity, and a breathtaking amount of stubbornness but neither of those things could have prepared her for just how unprepared she was to tackle the apocalypse. A few days in and she was having to pump the breaks. She needed to slow down, learn, acclimate, and make sure that she was ready for whatever was thrown at her.

“Yer doin' that wrong, ya know.” The awful, ragged, sandpaper voice was gently teasing.

Nora resisted the urge to respond. It was dark, and she decided to hunker down in an abandoned house that still held some of its structural integrity. She had slipped in through a broken window, and managed to do so without sustaining any injuries from the lingering glass. Locking herself in one of the home’s upstairs rooms, she pulled a small tool box from her backpack. Though she didn’t know what was inside, Nora had decided to take the little box with her for the sake of getting in some lock picking practice. With her back to the wall and her Pip-Boy lighting the room, Nora made herself comfortable before getting to work. The bobby pin slid into the lock – only to have that man’s damn voice filling her head and interrupting her thoughts. There was no getting rid of him, not even temporarily. The bond had to be stronger for that sort of thing. Until then, he could look in on her whenever he pleased.

“Y'have the wrong end of the pin in the lock, sweetheart,” he insisted.

The guy was persistent in his use of endearments; Nora hated it. She couldn’t blame him for their rampant use, though. While he had offered up his name several times, Nora had yet to give him hers. So it was “sweetheart”, “baby”, “doll”, and she might have thought it cute if she wasn’t doing her absolute best to hate him.

She faked trying to unlock the box for a moment or two before removing the pin. After making a point of examining the pin, she turned it around and slid the correct end into the lock.

“That’s my girl.”

Nora seethed. At least he couldn’t read her thoughts. If she wasn’t careful he would be able to pick up on her emotions, though. She took a calming breath. He wasn’t there. He didn’t exist. She willed him away but she couldn’t get him out of her head. Even after years of marriage, Nora had barely been able to push Nate away. With some high-tech equipment and a bit of training, Nate had been capable of completely blocking Nora from accessing their bond at all. Deployed personnel wouldn’t be much use if they were letting themselves get distracted by their soulmates while out in the field. Maybe some of that tech still existed. Nora wondered how much it would set her back. It had been pricey back then – she wondered how much it would be now.

“Now gently jiggle the—“

Nora’s gaze suddenly tore to the bedroom door.

“What?”

To make a point, Nora lurched forward and pressed her ear to the bedroom door. Thankfully, she didn’t have to audibly tell the man to shut up when the voices continued to drift around the empty spaces of the house. Two voices – maybe three? Nora closed her eyes tight and listened. Definitely three. Cursing softly, she shifted to grab her pistol.

“Sweetheart, get outta there.”

Shut up, she wanted to say. Just shut up.

The voices stayed somewhat distant, the occasional bump and thud of noise making her flinch as she frantically put together some kind of plan. The room had a window, it was boarded up but the wood looked splintered and fragile. With a little bit of force, she might be able to pull the board free. Keeping her pistol handy, she gathered up her things and shouldered the familiar weight. Slowly, so slowly, she stepped towards the window.

The floor creaked under her weight and she froze all together, a cold sweat building on her forehead.

Shit.

The voices quieted, and Nora grit her teeth.

“Please – please get out of there. Now!”

“Shut up!“ she hissed between clenched teeth, her body lurching towards the window as she heard footsteps clambering up the stairs. Using more strength than was actually required, the board broke away from the windowsill just as the doorknob began to jiggle.

The intruders were yelling, tearing at the door, at the walls, trying to get at her because that was the world she lived in now. People were desperate and they were violent. If they didn’t murder her, they might rape her. They might keep her as a slave. This place, this world, was hell. She was slipping out the destroyed window and onto the roof just as there was a crack of noise and the door bowed inward.

Meanwhile, the man at the other end of the bond was feeding her instructions, ”Hurry, get away from the window. Find a way down – there was a garage, right? Go to the garage.”

Nora followed the instructions, shuffling along the dangerously slanted roof towards the side of the house the garage was on. The garage was separate from the house, and the structure was shorter. The garage was only a couple feet away; she’d have to make a jump for it.

”Jump – hurry!”

Nora hesitated, gauging the distance – and that’s where everything went to shit. In the midst of her uncertainty her assailants were able to get the drop on her. Gunfire tore through the quiet night, echoing over the sound of her rushing blood and pounding heart and rambling soulmate. The bullet tore into her shoulder, and Nora screamed before she pitched her body forward.

“Fuck!”

It wasn’t leap that she really needed. Her foot caught the rain gutter that lined the garage and her weight tore it from the rotting structure. She flopped forward. Nora’s arms shot out to grasp at the remaining shingles, but it was no use. She was hurt, and she was panicked – and she fell to the ground in a heap. The backpack did very little to cushion her fall. That damn toolbox she had been so set on keeping drove into her spine with breathtaking force. Using all of her strength she rolled herself to her hands and knees, then hauled herself to her feet.

Then she made a mad dash into the night. Bullets whizzed by, kicking up dirt and pebbles as they slammed into the ground around her.

“Keep goin’. Don’t stop.”

She didn’t need him to tell her that.

Nora ran. She ran until she could barely breathe, and then she ran a minute more. Eventually, she collapsed in the debris of an old building, tucking herself into an alcove of wood, metal, and concrete. Shivering, and gasping, she collapsed onto her knees. After a moment of rest she tied a swatch of old cloth around her shoulder to hopefully staunch the blood flow. Teary and shaking, she searched her bag for her med kit. There were some pain meds in there – or she hoped there was.

“Tell me where you are. I will come get you.”

There was a bottle of pills, but she didn’t know what type of pills they were. She didn’t want to chance turning on her light to read the label. She shook the pills into her palm anyway, the capsules nearly shaking right out of her hand.

“Please. Let me come get you. Yer gonna need stitches. Just let me look at yer Pip-Boy, I will be there in a few hours,” He sounded desperate, his voice soft and shaky.

The man must have felt her pain. He probably felt the gunshot, and he likely felt the rush of falling from the roof, as well as the impact. This sort of thing happened – and it would keep happening until the bond was stronger. Until then, he would experience whatever intense sensations she experienced when he was accessing their bond.

The pills were tossed into her mouth and she swallowed them dry. The bullet needed to be removed but she would need light to do that – and she refused to give away her position. It could wait until morning.

“Baby, please.”

Nora shifted, sinking back further into her hiding place. As she pressed her cheek to cold cement, she pretended that she was home, and safe.

“I am begging you to tell me where you are. I can take care of ya – just—“

Her eyelids drooped, and that awful voice faded away.

[crackinglamb]

Chapters: 8/38 Fandom: Fallout 4 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Female Sole Survivor & Nick Valentine, John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor, Deacon & Female Sole Survivor (Fallout) Characters: Female Sole Survivor (Fallout), Codsworth (Fallout), Dogmeat (Fallout), Preston Garvey, Mama Murphy (Fallout), Piper Wright, Finn (Fallout), John Hancock (Fallout), Fahrenheit (Fallout), Daisy (Fallout), Robert Joseph MacCready, Nick Valentine, Doctor Amari (Fallout), Pickman (Fallout), Wiseman (Fallout), Ronnie Shaw, Mayor McDonough (Fallout), Desdemona (Fallout), Deacon (Fallout), Whitechapel Charlie (Fallout), Sturges (Fallout), Father | Shaun (Fallout), Synth Shaun (Fallout), Lorenzo Cabot, Doctor Carrington (Fallout) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Modern Girl in The Commonwealth, Crack Treated Seriously, Game Mechanics As A Plot Device, Canon-Typical Everything, Game Dialogue, Respawning, Existential Crisis, Minor Lovecraftian Horror, Dissociation, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Flirting, Explicit Sexual Content, Canon Shall Be Yeeted, Angst with a Happy Ending, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Summary:

Jack Nunn was just a normal, everyday woman who loved Fallout 4. Until she woke up in it. The only way out is through. And through, and through again.

Same as it ever was…

(The MCD warning is due to the nature of the respawning mechanic.)

 Beta'd by Iron_Angel. Updates twice a week. NSFW will be marked **.

Chapter 8 - The One You’re Lookin’ For

Nick stood in a pool of shadow, lighting a cigarette he couldn’t actually smoke without lungs and peering at the three of them together.  “Hancock.”

“Hey, Nick.”

“MacCready.”

“Mr. Valentine.”

And then he looked at her.  “Well, gotta love the irony of the reverse damsel in distress scenario.  Question is, why did our heroine risk life and limb for an old private eye?  Especially in such noteworthy company.”

“I need you to find someone, but it’s complicated.  The trail is pretty cold, to be honest.  I don’t know exactly where they could be, or how long they’ve been gone.”  Both of which were lies, of course, but she wasn’t about to give away what she knew in front of MacCready and Hancock.  There would be time enough later on to explain it all to Nick.

[mel-0n-earth]

Was rereading my Female Sole x Hancock soulmark AU and realized it was sorely missing an epilogue, so here it is!

[skatik]

Memories

[yawnderu]

>Commission for the lovely @slava-the-stalker! Thank you so much for supporting me with comms for my surgery. TTwTT 💗💗

John stared deep into the mirror, his visage scrunched up in a mix of discomfort and insecurity upon seeing his own reflection. What used to be a normal human face is nothing like the... thing staring back at him, his own hands coming up to caress the rough, scarred skin. While he's glad the bastard who failed all those ghouls is no longer recognizable, part of him feels a growing pit of anxiety boiling up in his stomach, threatening to explode at any moment now, the sound of your gentle humming coming from the bedroom calming him down even if only for a second. 

With one last look of disdain at his own face, he makes his way out of the bathroom, his chest lightly puffed out in fake confidence, not wanting you to sense the inner turmoil in his head. The pure devotion in your eyes makes him hesitate, yet he pushes himself to be closer, lying down next to your body, one of his cold hands running up and down the crevice of your waist. 

“Took you long enough.” The pure mirth in your eyes makes the corners of his lips tilt up into a smile despite himself, fighting the urge to recoil back the moment your hand meets his cheek, the warmth spreading all over his cold skin, bringing a sense of comfort amidst the chaos in his head. 

“Looking this good ain't easy.” That fake confidence will be his demise one day, he knows it, yet the sweet laugh leaving your lips is enough to push the thought to the back of his mind, his eyes closing at the sensation of your thumb caressing his skin with nothing short of worship. He can feel you inching closer, not doing a damn thing to stop you as your lips crash against his, moving at an almost agonizingly slow pace, your breath hot against his face. 

His hand drifts lower and lower as your kiss becomes more heated, cold fingers curling around your supple ass, squeezing it harshly as he pulls you closer to him, all the blood rushing down to his cock the moment your tongue enters his parted lips, wrapping around him without any trace of disgust. Your free hand comes down to his groin, teasingly tracing the outline of his hardening cock with your index before fully cupping it, feeling the vibrations of a groan leaving his lips against your own. 

You can feel him harden beneath your palm, your fingers curling around the outline of his cock as your warm tongue meets his, battling for a dominance that he instantly surrenders, the feeling of his hands groping your ass harder dragging a moan out of your lips, only breaking away from the kiss to lean your forehead against his. 

“I have been having slightly more impure thoughts than usual.” He confesses, his voice barely a whisper as a hint of hesitation dances in his dark eyes. 

“Maybe it's time we... act on those.” His nervous chuckle doesn't go ignored, only making the tenderness in your eyes grow at the slight display of nervousness written all over his face. You've heard his thoughts about your relationship— about how he thinks you don't want to wake up to his mug every morning, and how he would never wish that on anyone he cared for; yet for you, John Hancock is a work of art. Every single intricate pattern on his skin, the way he carries himself, the strong sense of responsibility and morality towards his cause, and the sheer kindness seeping through his entire soul, clear in his very own actions. 

The only response he gets is a soft peck on the lips, your gentle eyes meeting his, serving as a soothing balm for the insecurities that run deep within. He allows his body to relax despite the way his muscles are threatening to tense at the sensation of your fingers unbuttoning his pants, his hand instinctively reaching out to hold yours the moment your fingers touch his zipper. 

“You don't... have to.” He reassures, not wanting you to feel forced to look at his disfigured, ghoul body. 

“I want to.” Your tone is even and firm, your intentions clear as day, yet he only moves his hand away after seeing the way your pupils dilate when looking up at him. John has been alone for what feels like an eternity, the idea of being intimate with someone he loves being such a foreign and mildly scary concept even for the bravest of men. 

He forces his body to relax, laying down on his back as you undo his zipper, a sharp hiss leaving his thin lips the moment your warm hands pull his hard cock out, blown pupils fully admiring every single detail; the thick, darker veins running over his length, to the dark pink bulbous tip, glistening with precum that seems to leak like a broken faucet. A deep groan leaves his lips as your fingers curl around his thick length, moving up and down at such an agonizingly slow pace that he's close to throwing his pride away and begging. 

His lips part, half-lidded eyes staring up at the ceiling as his jaw clenches, feeling the mattress sink with the weight of your knees, parting his legs just enough for your body to fit between them. Your tongue darts out, licking a tantalizing stripe over his sensitive tip, running over his thin slit, the taste of salty precum overwhelming your senses, mixing in with your slimy saliva. His hand goes to the back of your head, cold fingers caressing your scalp rather than pushing you closer, his grip tightening momentarily the moment your warm tongue runs up and down the thickest vein on his shaft. 

“Please, love...” He's not even sure why he's pleading, yet surrendering all control to the person he loves the most brings out an exhilarating feeling he never knew was possible without drugs. You obey, slowly pushing his throbbing cock deeper into your mouth, relaxing your throat just to take him deeper without triggering your gag reflex. The tears dotting your eyelashes only make you look even more charming to him, lightly bucking his hips so you can finish taking all of him, your nose against his trimmed pubic hair, the feeling of his soft, heavy balls against your chin only makes it more enticing, sucking in your cheeks as you start to bob your head up and down, taking in the feeling of his cock sliding down your throat. 

His grip tightens on your hair, inhibitions thrown out the window as he stars to guide your movements, his eyes darkening at the way every single inch of his cock disappears into your needy, willing throat, squelching sounds mixing in with his deep groans, his head thrown back, the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down fully on display for your curious eyes. Your hands squeeze his thighs once you're unable to get air anymore and he immediately helps you pull away, gently wiping the trail of saliva going down the corners of your lips, using the chance to cup your cheek and stare down at you with nothing but pure, undying love. 

“I'd like to try something new tonight.” His face tilts to the side slightly, curiosity clear in his expression, resting his heavy body on his elbows as his dark eyes focus on the way you seductively strip of your clothes, layer after layer coming off to reveal the soft, untainted flesh, so unlike his own— so pure and clean. 

His gaze follows your movements, instinctively fitting his body on top of yours the moment you lay down on your back, one hand supporting his weight, and the other one drifting down your plush thigh, roaming up and down as if it's the first time he feels something so tender, forever enamored with the way your body feels against his no matter how many times you make love. 

His fingers drift down to your sopping cunt, swiftly running over your erect clit for a second before he's back to gathering your slick on his fingers, teasing your entrance before going up, rubbing circles over your clit, the way your back arches and your tits jiggle slightly simply makes his cock throb, lowering his hand to grip it, rubbing himself up and down a few times before guiding his thick tip to your entrance, starting to push in. Your hand on his bicep forces him to halt his movements, shooting you a curious, worried look. 

“Not... not that hole.” It only takes a second for your words to register, amusement clear in his face, yet a speck of doubt manages to always crawl its way into his brain. Do you truly want a bastard like him to defile you? Your legs parting to give him more space, not a single hint of hesitation in the way you move, presenting yourself to him.

Perhaps it's about time John allows himself to be selfish— to take what's being offered to him. His grip tightens on his cock, rubbing the tip up and down your sopping pussy, gathering as much slick as he can around the tip, knowing you're going to be a tight fit. 

“Say the word if y'want me to stop.” Your little nod is all he needs, relaxing your lower body as he applies pressure against your tight, puckered hole, feeling it give in and wrap tightly around the tip of his cock, a small groan leaving his lips at the sensation. He sinks into you slowly and carefully, a loud sigh escaping him the moment he managed to bottom out, yet his eyes never once leave your face, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and caress the tender skin with his thumb, giving you as much time as you need to get used to the foreign sensation. 

“You can move now.” The sweetness of your words makes his lips curl up into a sincere smile, his hips rocking into you slowly, feeling your tight hole grip him like a vice, the warmth surrounding him is almost enough to make him cum, yet he focuses solely on your pleasure, his thin lips coming down to kiss your neck, licking a tantalizing stripe over the sensitive skin just to feel your body shudder at the sensation, your hands coming up to caress his back, pulling his body so close that your heat is spreading all over, touching his very own soul. 

“I love this...” His tongue applies more pressure to your neck as you drag out your words, taking full advantage of the sensitive nerves just to feel your throat vibrating against hips lips with each sweet moan that comes out of your lips, daring to fuck into you deeper and harder now that you're used to his size. 

“I love you.” His hips falter for a second, unable to hide the surprise dancing in his slightly widened eyes at your confession, yet the look of love and trust written all over your face drags away any disbelief he felt, his soul freed even if only for a moment as your face finds shelter on the crook of his neck the moment his thrusts speed up, fucking into your tight ass at an almost unlawful pace, wanting you to feel every single inch of his hard cock, of his love. 

A loud groan escapes his lips the moment he feels your teeth bite into his shoulder, likely trying to muffle your crescendo moans, the stinging sensation making his cock throb, slamming himself as deep as he can into your puckered hole, his body weight keeping you pressed down as ropes of thick, hot cum shoot deep into you, painting your tight walls white. His heavy body rests on top of yours, too exhausted to move out of the way yet, the sensation of being lightly crushed oddly pleasant. 

“I love you too. More than anything, more than anyone...” He whispers into your ear, slowly pulling out of you, his dark eyes taking a few seconds to admire his work of art— your gaping hole leaking with his hot, white cum, a thin layer of sweat covering your exhausted, fucked-out body. He lays down next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist just to bring you closer, planting a gentle kiss on top of your forehead. 

His eyes drift down to the red teeth marks on his shoulder, letting out a small chuckle at the idea of having a future bruise as a reminder of your night together.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Hard Feelings

Hancock x Fem! Sole Survivor / Reader Insert

(AO3)

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

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

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

Word count: 4.7k+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Things like me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’d be one to know,” you baited.

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cross my heart and hope to—” 

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

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

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

“Not sure you wanna end up like—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I can’t hold back, angel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-

Fallout Masterlist

[dez78]

A night of passion

-----------------------------------------

As requested by @ghoulspirits

Hope I captured the moment! Enjoy!

-------------------------------------

Fandom: Fallout 4

Pairings: Hancock x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+)

Additional Tags: Smut with plot, romantic Hancock, Public sex, massage leads to sexy time.

Summary: You and Hancock finally find time to have a break and things get heated quick.

-------------------------------------------

(Not my Gif)

You and Hancock headed into the Third Rail. The last few days have been hell, you have been retrieving caches and dead drops for the Railroad. You needed a break from the constant fighting, you yearned to just sit and have a beer.

"Hey Chuck, two beers." Hancock said as he leaned on the bar,

"Coming right up, mayor!" Charlie replied as he went over to the old, rusted out fridge.

You went to sit on the stool, but Hancock caught your wrist. You looked up at him with a perplexed expression on your weathered features.

"No, no, sweetheart. You and me got a reserved section in the VIP." Hancock said to you in a sensual tone. You quirked your eyebrow and smirked at him.

"Is that so?" You asked with a snarky tone and a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Hm mhm." Hancock hummed in response, he grabbed the two beers and whisked you away to the shadows of the VIP lounge, tucked away from the prying eyes.

-------------------------------------------------

Upon entering, Hancock handed you one of the beers. You took it and popped it open with your pipboy. You plopped down on the old, worn couch. The springs protested under yours and Hancock's weight.

The ghoul flipped his feet up, resting them on the ottoman, taking a swig of his beer. You sipped your own, relaxing finally. Your muscles were tense.

You felt all the pressure in your joints as you rolled your shoulders with a low groan and a furrowed brow.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Hancock questioned, looking over at you.

"Just sore from all that damn fighting and walking." You whined, rolling your neck.

"Well, I ain't no expert, but I can try to help." Hancock offered, you didn't respond verbally, only nodding your head.

Hancock sat up, he put his beer on the floor. You unzipped your vault suit, revealing your skin to your partner. Hancock bit back the moan as he saw your skin for the thousandth time. It didn't matter how many times he saw you; you still stole his breath.

His rough hand trailed down your smooth back, unclasping your bra with only two fingers. You sighed a long breath as you felt the freedom. Hancock watched his fingers mapping your skin and the details of it.

Then he gripped your shoulders, you groaned low, throwing your head back.

His palms and thumbs massaged in the right places. You felt the popping of your joints and the release of your muscle tensity. You were lost in the sensation that Hancock's voice sounded yards away.

When you came to, Hancock was laughing.

"Now come on, sunshine. You keep making those noises, I'll have to cut this short." He said as he growled low, his breath on your neck. You bit your lip; your cheeks were flushed a bright pink.

"Would that be such a horrible thing?" You questioned innocently.

"I would certainly take you up on that offer." Hancock replied, still massaging your neck and shoulders. You turned then, catching Hancock's breath. He bit his lip as his coal eyes were fixed on yours.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous." He said stunned, admiring every detail of your face in the dim light. You were surprised, the first thing he didn't look at were your breasts, instead he fawned over your face, your eyes, your lips.

You smiled to yourself; he had his charm, but sometimes he was about more than sex. Only for you. You weren't an object or a one-night stand that meant nothing. You were his equal, his partner, you were his and he was yours.

Hancock cupped your jaw, you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. He hummed with contentment. He pulled you in and captured your lips in a tender kiss. He ran his other hand up your body, feeling every inch of your stomach before finally cupping one of your breasts in his large hand.

He gave you a gentle squeeze, you moaned into his mouth and that was his invitation. He dipped his tongue into your mouth. You let him in with no hesitation, your lips danced with each other in a smooth rhythm.

------------------------------------------

It wasn't long before things got hot and heavy, Hancock had torn off your vault suit and his own clothes. He held you up by your waist as he laid on top of you, leaving a trail of love bites across your neck and breasts. His fingers were graceful as he smoothed up your back.

He drove powerful thrusts into you, you were glistening with beads of sweat and were a mess of sound. It was music to Hancock's ears.

"That's right, baby girl. Let them know who you belong to." He rasped through thrusts. You cried out, arching your back. Hancock kept you steadied as your body convulsed for the fourth time that night.

Hancock leaned down, kissing your jawline as he slowed to an even pace. Giving you time to recover. He kissed your neck tenderly as he pushed into you slowly.

"You like that, sweetheart?" Hancock purred into your ear; you nodded slowly enjoying the feeling of him filling you up with his immensity.

"You're such a good girl for taking it all." Hancock praised you, you shuddered with delight as his voice rumbled against your sensitive skin. He kissed your lips with a tenderness he only had for you.

You usually liked it the way he gave it, but sometimes you wanted slow, and he provided and proved to be an excellent lover in both times. It all depended on you. He respected your feelings. He never did anything you were against. He always made sure you were okay and if you liked what he was doing. If not, then he'd stop.

He was never rough unless you wanted it. You loved that about him, he gave you options and freedom with your love life.

"You ready, love? Or do you want this some more?" Hancock asked you, kissing your neck gently.

"I want it rough." You growled, Hancock got that mischievous glint in his eye and gave you a devilish grin.

He sat up.

"Spread your legs for me, baby." He commanded, you opened your legs for him, and he devoured you. You threw your head back, screaming in bliss. Your thighs quivered. He was hitting your sweet spot. Your hair was falling over your face, wet from sweat.

Beads trickled down the curve of your breast, your lips were swollen, your body glistened, and your eyes sparkled. You were beautiful. It sent Hancock over the edge. You arched your back, contracting around your lover. Your whole body shook.

"Fuck." Hancock breathed with a hoarse laugh. You laid there for a moment, catching your breath. Hancock smiled, drawing circles on your stomach.

"Enjoy, sweetheart?" He smirked; your eyes were half lidded as you looked at him.

"What do you think?" You quipped with a tired smile. Hancock didn't say anything, just gave you his own genuine smile. You loved how he wore it. It suited him. You were the only one to ever see his true smile. He faked it for others, but he put all his trust in you.

You felt lucky to know him, the true him. Not the show ghoul that he put on for everyone else. The facade. You grabbed his face and pulled him on top of you. He rolled his tongue at you,

"Round two already?" He teased; you shook your head.

"No, just kiss me." You told him, he looked a bit surprised, but didn't protest to the request. He leaned down. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his lips against yours.

The kiss was sweet, not heavy and hot like it was moments ago. This one was tender, gentle, and full of love. Hancock poured his all his feelings into his kisses. This time was no different.

The two of you pulled away for only, but a moment. In that time, your eyes met. You saw the sincerity in Hancock's expression.

"I love you, sunshine." He said, brushing strands of hair from your sticky forehead, you smiled up at him.

"I love you too, John." You replied lovingly. Hancock's smile was bright, he loved his name on your lips, it was a beautiful sound, even more beautiful than your moans, he admitted.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours again, savoring the kiss. Savoring the moment. It was perfect, you were perfect.

[ghoulphile]

*drops a bag of hancock brain worms* let’s talk about public sex in the old state house. let’s talk about the neighbourhood watch trying (not that hard) to hide hard-ons because mayor hancock is fucking you in his office with the door open again. let’s talk about him putting fingers in ur mouth, jet inhalers, his cock, the end of his gun to get you to stay quiet but there’s no hiding anything!!!!!

*foaming at the mouth* i am always here for your brain wormssssss!!!

oh god yes pls but also... what about him using the grip he's got on your jaw when his fingers are shoved in your mouth to turn your head towards the doorway where a drifter's loiters, hand down his pants as he fists at his cock.

who he is, isn't all that important.

what is important is how you whine, a low wounded sound muffled by the thick of his fingers. how you try to shy away. you should know better. there's no fooling hancock. especially not when your pussy clenches so hard he smothers a low curse in your neck, his hips jerking into your ass as he fights against tight, swollen walls on the backstroke.

he might've shotgunned a hit of jet with you earlier but it's worn off by now as he fucked you through your high, no longer as loose limbed and pliant beneath him as your body refuses, keeps him locked deep inside. pussy milking his shaft for all he's worth - as though he hasn't pumped you full three times already.

"heh, if you wanted an audience, all you had to do was say so, sunshine." rough lips caress the shell of your ear, hancock's voice a raspy whisper when he warns, "but watchin' is all he's gonna do. you're not for sharing."

[ink-witch111]

More Quinn and Hancock doodles.

theyre so cute omg.

[buttbitchsblog]

Part 1/2 part commission for @witty--fool !!💞💘

John Hancock, Mary-anne, and Nick Valentine from Left to Right. Scanned image/Raw sketch/Reference image provided!

This commission is based on an amazing fic that witty--fool wrote called 'Rain In My Heart' on Ao3. Pls PLS PLS go read it because my heart strings have been YOINKED. The Link is below! :3

[ghoul-foolery]

Dirty Windows | 10 | Nora x Hancock

A Fallout 4 Soulmate AU

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Fic Summary:

Hancock never thought he would find his soulmate. Once a common occurrence, soulmates turned into a bit of a rarity after the bombs dropped. It was to be expected when there was an influx of people getting shot in the face on a daily basis. So when Hancock discovered that he had a soulmate he was ecstatic; all of the people in the Commonwealth, and he was one of the lucky few.

Too bad his soulmate didn't want anything to do with him.

When Nora thought for sure she was going to die too, the pain stopped – and then there was nothing. Nothing but the emptiness. Nothing but the grief. Half of her soul was suddenly gone forever. She was dropped in the middle of the ocean, drifting among the waves with no land in sight. Then just as suddenly she had been cast adrift, she found land. The hole was filled the moment it had been created. As she gripped Nate’s vault suit and begged him to open his eyes, Nora found herself battling with the horrifying realization that she had another soulmate; that some stranger had taken Nate's place.

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[ 1 ] <- [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ 9 ] - [ 11 ]

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Nora Morrison was a woman who firmly believed in law and order; she believed in the justice system. She believed that those who infringed upon the law must be judged by a group of their peers, and given a just sentence. The problem was that there was no room for old world ideals in the Commonwealth. These people were murderers who showed absolutely no hesitation, and they had no fear of any potential consequences, because there were none. These people were wild, and they were crazy, and for some reason they really seemed to want Nora dead. During her stint as a prosecuting attorney, Nora had been on the receiving end of a whole lot of ire – but this was something else entirely.

The, admittedly petty, endeavor to hate her soulmate and drive him away crumbled the very moment he came barging back into her head. It should be strange, how he was consistently there whenever she needed him. Like he would always come and check on her at just the right time. It was typically deeply annoying, and she often wished him away. This time she not only welcomed the man, but she finally reached out to him willfully. Their connection became firmly set, so steadfast that it felt like a tangible thing. The man gasped softly.

Nora’s vision was clouded with the man’s view of whatever room he was in – there was a chair sitting in front of an open window, a couch tucked off to the side of a room – before she pushed the image from her mind and focused on his emotions. There was a feeling of absolute panic, but there was an underlying layer of anger. He would have to work on controlling his own emotions when accessing their bond; he was letting her feelings influence his to a noticeable degree.

She took a slow breath, catching the smell of phantom cigarette smoke, something like burning petrichor, and something else that was tangy-sweet. That was from him. Those were his senses.

Another breath and she was picking up the smell of dust, coppery blood, and rotting wood. Mold. Mildew. That was her environment.

It took her a handful of precious seconds to make the connection to his mind, and then sift through all of the accompanying sensations until she was left with what she wanted. It was his emotions that she needed, and even though she was seeking out some sort of level-headed calm, she could work with his anger – she could feed off of it.

Nora struggled under the dead weight of the man she killed as she tried to prop his corpse up against the old desk she hid behind. Even the slightest bit of anger helped take the shake out of her hands, and brought some strength back to her limbs. She’d definitely need to be nice to her soulmate after this.

“Do you have time to reload?” His graveled voice was rasping low and threatening. “Find some more mags t’pack around after this. Running into a goddamn firefight with just one was real damn stupid.”

Nora scoffed. She slid the magazine free and started shoving in bullet after bullet until the magazine was full. “It’s not like I did it on purpose,” she growled, her tone matching his. More gunfire punctuated the statement, more yelling followed.

“How many you got left?” Her eyes dipped down to her gun. “Not bullets. I saw how many bullets you got. How many assholes are there tryin’ t’kill ya?”

Nora chanced a quick peak, yelping as the edge of her cover was torn away by a bullet. It wasn’t really much cover, it was an old heavy wooden desk but it was doing a mighty fine job at keeping her safe at the moment. “Three?”

“Was that a question or an answer?”

Biting down on her tongue was the only way to prevent herself from swearing at him. Ultimately, she didn’t mind swearing – Nate had a military mouth – but she herself tried to avoid cursing. It wasn’t lady-like, for one thing. A visceral memory of her mother forcing her to bite down on a bar of soap for having a “dirty mouth” was another.

“I counted three,” she ground out.

“Yer gonna hafta kill ‘em,” he replied. “And yer not gonna have the time to be gettin’ sick every time you do it, ya feel me?”

The connection she established faltered when her eyes drifted to the corpse she sat beside. She had killed a man. It wasn’t her first time seeing a dead body; she hadn’t shied away from crime scenes and morgue visits in her career. It was so much more different, though, knowing that she was the one that made the kill. She took someone’s life. Despite the situation, a surge of guilt had her eyes growing misty.

“Hey, sister, get yer head in the game!” Her eyes snapped to the side, away from the body, the connection stabilizing.

The man was irritated, she could feel it right along with his anger. She could use that, too. The only problem with utilizing those emotions was that she found herself snapping right back at him, “I told you to stop yelling at me!”

“Then focus!”

“You focus!”

It had been bound to happen. The stranger was overly receptive to her emotions, incapable of blocking them from affecting his own. During his last visit, he had come barging into her headspace only for his intentions to be broken down under the assault of her own grief. In Nora’s current circumstance, with both of them reaching for the other, and with the man incapable – or unwilling – to block out her emotions, they were creating a feedback loop of sorts. His anger affected her, affected him, affected her…

Even though Nora was aware of it happening, having a building white-hot rage burning in her chest was leagues better than the raw guilt that was roiling in her gut. She leaned into it, embraced it as tightly as she could.

The stranger growled. It was a deep, rumbling sound that carried more gravel than a quarry. It sounded like a feral animal. “Shoot at them. Stay below cover.”

She did. Remaining tucked low behind cover, she fired in her assailant’s direction blindly. There was a surprised yelp from their end of the fight this time, and then resounding laughter. She fired again, and the laughing fell silent.

“Okay. You’re going to push our friend away from you. Out from cover. Use him to draw fire.” His words were clipped, and precise, and they left very little room for argument. Nora took hold of the corpse’s shoulder just before her soulmate continued. “Hey.”

She paused.

“You’re going to get one shot at this. Make it fuckin’ count, you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

Nora gave the corpse a firm push, and his body toppled out from behind the overturned desk she crouched behind. The movement caught her assailants’ attention, and the corpse promptly became riddled with bullets. From the other side of the desk, Nora peered out from cover. She caught her first target crouching out in the open, a look of shock on his face. He started to redirect his aim just as she settled hers on him.

“Shoot him.”

Nora pulled the trigger. The gun jumped in her hand, and she ended up shooting too wide.

“Lean into the shot! Pull the trigger and fuckin’ MEAN IT! This is your life or theirs! Kill them!”

She did.

She killed all three.

Tags: @takottai

As a note, dear tag lister: I have 41 (almost 42) chapters of this thing ready to go. Holler if you ever want off the ride.

[crackinglamb]

Chapters: 6/38 Fandom: Fallout 4 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Female Sole Survivor & Nick Valentine, John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor, Deacon & Female Sole Survivor (Fallout) Characters: Female Sole Survivor (Fallout), Codsworth (Fallout), Dogmeat (Fallout), Preston Garvey, Mama Murphy (Fallout), Piper Wright, Finn (Fallout), John Hancock (Fallout), Fahrenheit (Fallout), Daisy (Fallout), Robert Joseph MacCready, Nick Valentine, Doctor Amari (Fallout), Pickman (Fallout), Wiseman (Fallout), Ronnie Shaw, Mayor McDonough (Fallout), Desdemona (Fallout), Deacon (Fallout), Whitechapel Charlie (Fallout), Sturges (Fallout), Father | Shaun (Fallout), Synth Shaun (Fallout), Doctor Carrington (Fallout) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Modern Girl in The Commonwealth, Crack Treated Seriously, Game Mechanics As A Plot Device, Canon-Typical Everything, Game Dialogue, Respawning, Existential Crisis, Minor Lovecraftian Horror, Dissociation, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Flirting, Explicit Sexual Content, Canon Shall Be Yeeted, Angst with a Happy Ending, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Summary:

Jack Nunn was just a normal, everyday woman who loved Fallout 4. Until she woke up in it. The only way out is through. And through, and through again.

Same as it ever was…

(The MCD warning is due to the nature of the respawning mechanic.)

 Beta'd by Iron_Angel. Updates twice a week. NSFW will be marked **.

Chapter 6 - Everyone’s Welcome

She turned back to Hancock. “Yeah, I feel you.”

“Good. You stay cool and you’ll be right at home in the neighborhood.  So long as you remember who’s in charge.”

He sauntered off, going so far as to turn his back on her while Fahrenheit waited for him.  The bodyguard was watching her, a small smile on her lips.  She was taller than the Mayor, enough that it was noticeable.  Jack was just close enough to hear her murmur.  “A new player in Goodneighbor.  Hello, little pawn.  Welcome to our fun and games.”

[witty--fool]

Unfamiliar Territory

Summary: Hancock leads the General of the Minutemen through unfamiliar experiences, feelings, and desires.

Rating: M,18+, softcore smut

Pairing: John Hancock/Sole survivor, John Hancock/Female Sole survivor

Tags: Oral, clitoral stimulation, first times, first kiss, Soft Hancock, Sweet Hancock, inexperienced sole, fluff & smut

Word Count: 3,751

DISCLAIMER: This work is heavily inspired by this Nate/Nick Valentine video. I used it as a concept and a jumping-off point, basically.

Ao3 link

“I’d like to rent a room please,” Mary-Anne said to the hostess at the Bed and Breakfast.

It was an interesting place and an interesting idea. A hotel of sorts out in the wastes. Of course, it was a Minuteman settlement, so Mary-Anne had a hand in creating it. It was well fortified, with a wall and turrets. Had a bar a trader, and a decent food supply…she was proud of the place. 

She’d taken Hancock with her, and the pair had grown weary of spending every night out in the open in the wastes. It would be nice not having to sleep with one eye open the whole night, although, you’d still need to sleep with a revolver at your side, never knowing what could happen in the world anymore.

The hostess handed over a set of keys. "Room three is ready for you. Dinner will be served in the common area in an hour. Let us know if you need anything else."

Mary-Anne nodded, taking the keys with a grateful smile. She turned to Hancock, who pushed himself off the doorframe and joined her as they headed to their room.

They reached their room and Mary-Anne unlocked the door, pushing it open to reveal a cozy space. It wasn’t luxurious by any means, but it had a clean bed, a small table with chairs, and a basin for washing up. It was a far cry from the makeshift campsites they’d been using out in the open.

She sighed in relief, closing the door behind them. Mary-Anne immediately began stripping herself of her armor and placing it on the chest of drawers near the bed. Sighing dramatically as she cracked her back.

Hancock chuckled as he removed his jacket, setting it on a coat rack near the door.

“Holy shit.” Mary-Anne said, turning to the basin, “they have soap!” she said, rushing over to the basin and beginning to wash her face.

“You clean up well, sunshine,” Hancock said, he'd just started using that nickname for her–and so far she hadn’t protested at all.

“Thanks–” Just as she turned around, he was right in front of her. His weathered hand moved to cup her cheek gently, and he slid a ruined thumb down her plump cheek.

“Hancock I-” is what she managed as she pushed backward, knocking the basin down causing it to crash to the floor and shattered into a million pieces. She moved her hand to move him away from her face. 

That’s when he noticed her wedding ring, shimmering slightly in the orange light of dusk.

He pulled away quickly, one swift motion as the basin was falling.

“Mary-Anne–I’m sorry, I didn’t realize–shit.” he stuttered out and turned away from her, walking towards the window, feeling the breeze from the late-day air. He moved to light a cigarette, a swift motion of taking it out of his pants pocket and flicking a match. Inhaling the smoke deeply.

“With everything that’s been happening and the talking–I thought you were interested…stupid.” He muttered as he exhaled the smoke

She moved to sit on the bed, “No it's, I just wasn’t expecting that.” she replied, averting her eyes.

“With Nate and–god, I never even asked. I’m sorry.” He said, taking another drag of his cigarette, careful to avoid eye contact with her.

“No, it’s not your fault.” she started, “You’re right, I am interested… it’s just.” she paused, tears welling up in her eyes, “I don’t know if it’s right to feel the way I do.”

“Sunshine…” He said quietly as he flicked the half-smoked cigarette out of the window.

“I don’t know what it means anymore.” she said, fidgeting with her wedding ring, “he’s gone, he’s–oh god.” She finally broke into a sob

Hancock took a place next to her on the bed, offering his arm to her. She greedily took it, wrapping him around her, burying her face in his shirt, letting it absorb the tears.

“It’s okay, Mary. It’s okay to feel like this. It’s okay to miss him and still want to move forward. You don’t have to choose one or the other,” he murmured, stroking her hair gently.

She cried harder, the floodgates of her emotions finally breaking open. “I just feel so lost. I miss him so much, miss his smile, his smell, the way he’d coo to Shaun… but I also… I also care about you, Hancock. And it scares me.”

“I know, Sunshine. I know,” Hancock whispered. “You’ve been through so much, more than anyone should have to bear. But you’re strong, and you’re allowed to find happiness again. Nate would want that for you.”

She looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy from crying. “Do you really think so?”

“I do,” he said firmly. “And I’ll be here, no matter what you decide. Whether it’s just as a friend or something more, I’ll be here for you.”

“But,” she paused, “I’m a broken woman, John…. You still, you still want me?” she asked quietly

"Mary-Anne," he began softly, his voice steady and reassuring, "you're not broken. You're resilient, stronger than anyone I've ever known. And yes, I want you—more than anything." His hand moved to gently cup her cheek, his touch warm and comforting. 

She wiped her eyes, “thank you, for everything, John…” 

The use of his first name hung heavily in the air, it was her first time referring to him in such a manner, even if she’d wanted to for much longer. Hancock's eyes widened slightly, a rare moment of vulnerability crossing his features.

For a while, they stayed with Mary-Anne’s head on his chest, sniffling, recovering from the tears. After a long while, Mary-Anne pulled away and looked deep into Hancock’s deep, wet eyes.

In that instant, the distance between them vanished. Hancock leaned in, his movements slow and deliberate, giving her every chance to pull away if she wanted to. But Mary-Anne didn't move. Instead, she closed the gap, pressing her lips against his.

The kiss was tender at first, a gentle exploration of newfound feelings. But as the reality of their emotions sank in, it deepened, becoming more urgent and passionate. Hancock's hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as if afraid she might disappear.

Mary-Anne's arms wrapped around his shoulders. She felt a rush of warmth, a sense of belonging that she hadn't felt in a long time. The world outside, with all its dangers and uncertainties, faded away. All that mattered was this moment, this connection.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other. Hancock's eyes were filled with a mix of awe and happiness. "That was... amazing," he whispered.

Mary-Anne smiled, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. "Yeah, it was."

Hancock placed a hand on her thigh, “Tell me,” he started, breathly, “tell me when to stop.” He said as he began to trail kisses down her neck. His other hand came to the zipper of her vault suit, he tugged at it as if to ask for permission. Mary-Anne nodded and whimpered– a plea for him to push forward.

He slowly pulled the zipper of the vault suit down, it sounded like music in the quiet room. He helped her arms and legs out of the jumpsuit, admiring her when she was finally freed from the fabric. Her body was covered in goosebumps, both from the cold air of the room and the electrifying sensations. 

She looked at him, expectantly. 

Sex with Nate was quick and to the point. He’d undress her, then himself, and then the action would start. He’d have his way with her, stopping once he was satisfied, and then they’d maybe cuddle for a while.

She had no reason to think that this would be anything different–that’s just the way that prewar sex went. 

Hancock raised an eyebrow as she looked at him, “do you want me to stop?” he asked, gently.

“No! I mean–no” She averted her eyes, “it’s just–you’re still fully clothed…”

“Well,” he started, “Was planning on giving you all the attention,” he cooed.

Mary-Anne’s mind swam, her face felt hot, hotter than it had ever felt before. What did he mean by that? 

“Just lay back, sunshine. Let me show you what I can do,” he murmured, he said in a seductive, gravely voice.

She laid back as she was told, letting him skillfully and swiftly remove her bra. He stood back and admired her for a second. Taking in her curves, her short dark hair, how freckles seemed to litter every inch of her body. He took into account her various stretch marks, which littered her stomach and breasts. He cupped one of her breasts, massaging it lightly–Mary-Anne groaned in response. No one had ever touched her like this before. Not in all of her two-hundred and thirty years on Earth. 

He captured her lips in a deep, passionate kiss–causing her to moan lightly into it. She felt his lips curl into a smile and he began trailing wet,  hot kissing down her neck, nibbling at sensitive areas to draw noises out of her. 

“Tell me…” he said breathily as he pulled away, “Tell me if I’m being too rough”, he said, before continuing his previous actions, Mary-Anne only whimpered in response, in truth, he was being extremely delicate with her. Like she was a porcelain doll liable to shatter at any sudden or harsh movement. 

His hand moved from her breast to her clothed genitals, pawing at them and rubbing. Just to tease her, just to get her a little more excited. And, to add to the sensation, he took one of her nipples into his mouth. Sucking at it and nipping at it until he could hear her low moan of approval.

He sucked and nipped his way all the way down her body, paying special attention to those stretch marks, until he finally made it to the vagina. He gently slipped her underwear off and began kissing and nipping at the inside of her thighs.

“Wh-” she began, her mind lost in bliss, “what are you doing?”

He looked up at her, a hint of confusion in his face, “Do you want me to stop?” he questioned, with a hint of worry in his tone.

“No!” She replied, “No… I just…” she paused, “Nate never touched me like this…”

Hancock paused, “Have you ever had oral sex?” he questioned, gently.

“You can do that on women?” She said, bewilderment in her tone.

He chuckled softly, “Yes sunshine, you can do that to women, and men, and anybody else.” He pulled away a little more so their eyes could meet, “Would you like me to do it to you?”

She paused for a moment, deep in thought. She never imagined sex could be like this–sure Nate had been sweet, he’d been gentle, but he was more concerned for his own pleasure. And maybe, that wasn’t his fault, instead, maybe it was just a side effect of the pre-war society they had inhabited. 

Her eyes twinkled as she met his black pits, “I-” she paused looking deeply into his eyes, “you’d do that?”

“Sunshine, I want to do it. I’ve been, god, I’ve been imagining it for months.”

Her face felt hot again, this was always an option? Her mind swam with curiosity, what was it going to feel like?

“Please,” she said, softly

“As you wish,” he said, tipping his hat before diving right back in.

His extremely skilled tongue got to work, causing her to squirm underneath him. He held a hand on her knee and used the other one to spread her open for easier access. He drew soft circles with his thumbs on top of her kneecap to soothe her.

“Oooh John….” She moaned as he worked his magic,

It took a long time for her to reach the edge of climax–something Hancock was impressed by, though he had no problems with it. He was relentless in pleasuring her, it seemed like he didn’t even come up for air.

“John! John I-” Was what she said before she could no longer stifle her long moan of pleasure, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he worked her through it. Before pulling away and whipping his mouth with his shirt sleeve. 

“How was that, sunshine?”

“John, I-” She was honestly at a loss for words, she’d never experienced such sensations, didn’t think it was possible…didn’t even think she could have an orgasm, it was just not something the sex she had had with Nate drew out of her–but this was different, and it was amazing.

“I’ve never… never felt that before…” She said, her eyes twinkling lightly in the moonlight which was creeping in from the window.

Hancock looked at her with a hint of confusion on his face, “Have you…” He started, gently, “Never had an orgasm?”

She simply nodded, looking away in embarrassment.

He picked up on her embarrassment, the heat in her cheeks, “Hey no sunshine, it’s nothing to be ashamed of… We all have our different experiences, especially when it comes to sex.”

“I know, it's just…” she was still looking away from him, “You’re just so…”

“Hey,” he said, taking her chin and moving it as to face him, “It’s alright, ok?”  he said, his eyes locking onto hers. 

She looked into his eyes, finding comfort in the sincerity and warmth she saw there. “I just don’t want to disappoint you,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly.

Hancock's expression softened even further. “Disappoint me?” he echoed. “Mary-Anne, you could never disappoint me. It’s not about experience or skill or any of that. It’s about the connection we have, that’s what matters.”

She took a deep breath, feeling a bit more at ease. “I guess I just feel… intimidated. Like I can’t measure up to all the people you’ve been with.”

Hancock shook his head. “You don’t need to measure up to anyone, sunshine. You’re you. And that’s more than enough for me. Every moment we share is special because it’s with you.”

She was quiet for a moment, in awe of his words, in awe of the raw and tender emotion that dripped from them, 

Mary-Anne smiled a shy but genuine smile. “Thank you, John. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. Before pulling away, holding her in his arms and swaying slightly–as if to a slow song that wasn’t there.

Hancock brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “And if there’s ever anything you want to talk about, or if you’re unsure about something, just let me know. I’m here to listen, not to judge.”

Mary-Anne’s eyes shimmered with gratitude. “I will, John. I promise.”

With that, they shared another tender kiss, as he pulled away and looked into her dark eyes, she felt her embarrassment lift.

“I’ve got somethin’ else I can show you… If you’re ok with that..”

She gently nodded but stopped him as he began to move, “Wait, can I, can I take your clothes off? I want to see you…”

His brow furrowed with concern, his eyes searching hers for any hint of hesitation. "Are you sure you want that? Ain’t exactly a looker…"

Mary-Anne's heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. She reached up, cupping his face with her hands, her thumbs brushing gently over his weathered cheeks. "John, you're beautiful to me. Every part of you."

Hancock's eyes softened, though doubt still lingered in their depths. He had always been self-conscious about his ghoulified appearance, the ravages of time and radiation having left their mark. But in Mary-Anne's eyes, he saw acceptance and love, and it gave him the courage to nod, giving her the permission she sought.

She moved closer, her hands finding the buttons of his shirt. Slowly, she began to unbutton it, her fingers brushing against his skin. With each button undone, she felt her confidence growing. She pushed the shirt off his shoulders, revealing the scarred and mottled skin beneath. Her touch was feather-light, almost reverent as if she was handling something precious. 

Hancock watched her, basking in her touch,  “You’re doing great,” he murmured, encouraging her.

With steady hands, she untied the American flag sash that adorned his waist, her movements deliberate yet gentle 

When his pants were undone, Hancock stepped out of them, leaving him in his underwear. He felt exposed, vulnerable in a way he hadn't anticipated. "Are you sure about this? It’s not… it’s not very pretty," he asked again, his voice filled with concern for her comfort.

Mary-Anne, her cheeks still flushed from their intimate moment, smiled softly. She reached out and gently placed her hand on his, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her touch. "John," Mary-Anne took a step closer to Hancock, her eyes meeting his with unwavering sincerity. "I want this," she said quietly, her voice carrying a blend of vulnerability and determination. "I want to be close to you, just as you are."

Hancock's expression softened, a mixture of relief and adoration crossing his features. He nodded slowly, his concern easing as he understood her intent. "Alright," he said softly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Ready?” she asked, bashfully

Hancock nodded, his trust in her unwavering. She gently slid his underwear down, finally revealing him completely. She took a moment to take in the sight, feeling a mix of emotions – awe, love, and a newfound sense of intimacy.

Mary-Anne took a moment to take in the sight before her, feeling a mix of emotions – awe, love, and a newfound sense of intimacy. "You’re beautiful," she whispered, her voice filled with sincerity.

Hancock let out a self-deprecating chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "Beauty's in the eye of the beholder, I guess," he muttered, though her words did soothe some of his insecurities.

She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "In my eyes, you're perfect," she murmured against his skin. “I see the most handsome man in the Commonwealth” she placed a kiss on his collarbone, “One with the most charismatic charm,” she placed a kiss on his neck, “One who is unafraid of anything,” a kiss on his cheek, “the most amazing man I know,” she said, finally placing a quick but passionate kiss on his lips.

He blushed deeply and laid back down on the bed, motioning her to sit snuggly next to him.

“And now for my next trick…” he said, beginning to kiss and nip at her neck. His hand came down to her most sensitive spot. And gently and slowly, he began to rub her clitoris. 

She sucked in air as he pleasured her, her eyes closed and head thrown back against his shoulder. Both due to the pleasure, and to give him better access to her neck and collarbone.

“Feelin’ good?” he said, quietly into her ear.

“Yes…oh god yes…” She breathed

He began to speed up until she was groaning and moaning in pleasure. Just like before, it took a relentless amount of effort to get her to the edge. But it was all worth it to Hancock, he reveled in the effort it took, and it all just made the reward that much more pleasurable.

She squirmed as she came, gripping onto him the best that she could. He smiled and chuckled at the sight. Her squirming eventually ceased, and he pulled his hand away. 

She turned to him, giving him another deep, passionate kiss of appreciation. He pushed against her lips with his own, with a ferocity that betrayed just how passionate he was about her.

The room fell quiet, and Mary-Anne began to shift where she was sitting, positioning herself above Hancock. She began to trail her hands to his knees, moving downwards and beginning to spread them apart.

He noticed the tiredness in her eyes, the sweat covering her body, her slowed movements.

“Sunshine, you don’t have to if you’re not feeling like it.”

She looked up at him in bewilderment, “But–you did so much for me. Made me feel so good, I’m supposed to–I dunno, I’m supposed to return the favor.”

Hancock let out a soft, reassuring chuckle, “sex isn’t tit-for-tat. I’ve enjoyed myself plenty just from pleasuring you” he smiled, “I can tell you’re tired, sunshine, you’ve experienced a lot for one day.”

“But you’re…” she said, looking down at his erect member.

“And that’s ok–it’s ok if I don’t get my socks off every single time.”

She processed his words, she was tired and worn out from all of the new experiences of the day. She sighed and moved back into his arms.

“Can we cuddle?” She asked, sheepishly

Hancock’s expression softened, his heart swelling with affection for her. “Course, Sunshine, course.”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest. She nestled into him, finding solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. They lay together in the quiet of the room, the world outside fading into the background.

Hancock stroked her hair gently, his touch soothing and tender. “You did good today,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her forehead.

She smiled, her eyes closing as she relaxed into his embrace. “Thank you,”

They held each other in a comfortable silence, Mary-Anne felt a profound sense of safety and belonging, one she hadn’t felt ever since she’d been unfrozen.

As she drifted off to sleep, she realized that this was what she had been searching for all along – a place where she could be herself, where she was loved and accepted just as she was. And in Hancock’s arms, she had found that place.

Hancock watched her as she slept, his heart filled with love and gratitude. He knew that they had a long journey ahead of them, but for now, in this moment, everything was perfect. He kissed the top of her head, whispering a promise to himself to always protect and cherish her.

With Mary-Anne safe in his arms, Hancock closed his eyes, allowing himself to finally rest. They had found each other in the chaos of the wasteland, and together, they would build a future filled with hope, love, and endless possibility

[devilry-revelry]

Debauchery | Hancock x Female!Sole Survivor

An (ancient) fill from the (ancient) fallout kink meme. I've had a couple of requests for Hancock, so here is one of the better ones I've done.

-

When his fingers caressed the column of her throat, she closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. How long had it been since she had been touched in such a way? His touch was rough but somehow soft, tickling under mangled fingers. An unintelligible sound left her, not a moan, but a very failed attempt at speech.

“Would you let me educate you, Nora?”

-

The Prompt:

Due to Pre-War America's obsession with enforcing a perpetual and idealized '50s, people were not supposed to be sexually adventurous (or even sexual) and the whole of the Female Sole Survivor's sexual experience was the missionary position for the purposes of procreation and *maybe* a little masturbation that she felt really ashamed about.

But now the world has ended and suddenly all the old sexual taboos no longer apply. And it turns out there's a whole world of freaky sex out there F!SS never dreamed of or dared imagine*. And she wants to try all of it.

-

NSFW, Minors Do Not Interact Tags: Pining, Mild bondage, Mild Sensory play, Cunnilingus, Penis in Vagina Sex, Cum play, Old and Poorly Written Smut

//

“Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul—“

Nora’s eyes tore away from the nearly destroyed paperback copy of Jane Eyre when Hancock shuffled in. He had a bottle of bourbon in his hand, looking quite pleased with himself as he took a quick swig. Nora smiled in quiet greeting from her spot in the nearly dilapidated couch. She had a large blanket draped over her lap, her feet tucked on the cushion beside her as she read. It was quiet at the Red Rocket Truck Stop, and that was just the way Nora liked it. The abandoned gas station was her home away from home, a place where she didn’t have to deal with needy settlers - a place where she didn’t have to deal with an even needier Preston Garvey. It was small, but it was one of her favorite haunts. She spruced the place up with some furniture, an old couch – which she was currently curled up on – and a few chairs, and a bed. What initially started out as her own place of peace and quiet turned into their place of peace and quiet. Hancock had managed to make himself a permanent fixture in her life, and she didn’t mind one bit.

“Whaddarwe readin’ t’night, Doll?” The ghoul asked as he approached.

Nora reached out and pulled the blanket back, allowing Hancock to flop into the cushion beside her. Once he was seated, Nora draped the blanket over his lap. She licked her thumb and turned the page of the book just as Hancock leaned into her side. He took another drink of the liquor, his head on her shoulder. He smelled like wood smoke from the fire pit they congregated around to cook their dinner, and the gentle sweetness of the alcohol.

“Jane Eyre,” Nora said fondly.

“When’r’ we gonna read somethin’ exciting?” he slurred softly.

Nora liked Hancock.

Though there were some things that he did that she really disagreed with (his drug use, mainly), she found herself thoroughly enjoying the ghoul’s company. Their travels had started with tentative, nearly forced discussions but they managed to forge a steady relationship in a manner of hours. Gradually, Nora opened up to Hancock and Hancock opened up to her. Their friendship was forged from the heat of the fight. They protected each other, spilled blood together. They ate together – they lived together. Hancock was a good man. As kind as he was cruel, his men had said. They couldn’t be more spot on. There were some days where Nora found it incredibly hard to imagine that the man had staged a bloody coup. It was the same man who spent hours searching for a locket, for a woman who he didn’t even know. It was the same man who helped clean up the young ghoul-boy that they found in a rusted old fridge. Hancock was fierce as he was kind, and Nora found herself trusting the ghoul unconditionally.

“Jane issa prude, and Rochester issa asshole.”

Nora tilted her head to look at the ghoul as he rested against her shoulder. She closed the book over her thumb, “You’ve read Jane Eyre?”

“Told you, Doll,” Another swig of the bourbon. “The Mentats are my ride of choice. I get all intellectual ‘n’ shit.” He threw her a lazy smile as he peered up at her face. Those black eyes of his looked a little glassy, shimmering in the lamp light.

Nora smiled, reaching up to flick one of the corners of his hat. She looked back at the book in her hand, gazing at the faded cover fondly. “Well, Mr. Intellectual,” she said, “I will say to you, that Jane is a product of her time. She is actually quite bold, rising above her station. And Rochester is, indeed, an asshole.”

“Pff,” he snorted. “Bold? Nah, the lady in the tower or the fuckin’ attic. Whatser name? That woman, she got around. Now she was bold.”

“And she got locked up for it. Her… sexual preferences aren’t exactly normal.”

“Nothin’ wrong with a sexually adventurous woman, sweetheart,” Hancock rumbled, his voice low. “She probably liked the good stuff too. Getting’ tied up, ‘n’ spanked and… Why can’t be read Robot Porn? Jane Eyre is too stuffy.”

Nora furrowed her eyebrows, tearing her gaze from the cover of the book. “I’m sorry… being tied up is the good stuff? That sounds awful.”

Hancock’s grin was absolutely wolfish, the glassiness in his eyes noticeably dimming, as if he suddenly chose to no longer be drunk. “Oh, Nora,” he murmured. “Ol’ Nate never tied you up? No silk scarves or rope?"

The way Hancock referred to Nate was nearly endearing. The ghoul spoke about her late husband as if the two had been good friends. Nora didn't mind. Though she still desperately missed Nate, the wounds had ample time to heal. The two would have been fast friends, anyway. Both of them were loyal, and fierce, and passionate about the things that they believed in.

“No! I, we… No!” How could he ask something like that! Nora knew her face was bright red as she opened the book, desperately trying to return to her reading. “Good lord,” she grumbled.

Hancock’s hand slowly slipped into her vision. He closed the book over her thumb. Nora lifted her eyes, dreading her very existence. They weren’t going to talk about this. There was no way!

“Did he ever spank you, Nora? Did he ever bend you over his knee?”

Nora wished that a Deathclaw would rip the door down. She wished that it would charge straight for her and kill her with a single swipe of its claws.

“No! We were a normal married couple. We didn’t do those things.”

Hancock was grinning ear to ear. Nora silently noted that the topic of sex wasn’t what upset her. She would discuss her sex life with the ghoul, no problem. It was the acts he spoke of; the bondage and the spanking. Those had been things that people whispered about, even in the confines of their own home.

“Didn’t you ever suck the poor man off?”

“Suck what off?”

There was an absolutely delighted light in Hancock’s eye as he maneuvered himself so he was facing her, sitting cross legged in the couch.

“Nora!” he laughed, low and dark. “You two never—“

“Look, okay, we… I would be on… I would lie down, and he would be on top, and—“

“You never rode him? Never fucked him? You never made him beg for your sweet—“ Nora lunged forward, the book completely abandoned. It felt to the ground with a soft thwump as Nora clasped her hand over Hancock’s mouth. She was blushing, all bright and vibrant. Hancock grinned behind her hand. She felt the muscles move and shift, felt the taught skin around his mouth constrict. Then, suddenly, his tongue laved over her palm and she yelped, yanking her hand back.

“Come on,” Hancock laughed. “What is the most sexually adventurous thing that you have ever done?”

“… You first…” She groused as she dried her palm on the blanket.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he grinned wickedly. “Back before I was this good lookin’ I managed to get two women in my bed—“

Oh. Oh my.

“One woman rode me, while the other sat on my face…”

Nora blinked slowly, “Sorry, she sat on your face?”

That smile again, all wicked and confident and filled with masculine satisfaction.

“I ate her, Nora. I had my tongue inside her—“

Oh. OH.

“—And then I pushed my fingers—“

“Okay! Okay, I get it!” she yelled, waving her hands in front of him. Nora nearly leaned forward and pressed her hand over his mouth again, but she had already learned that lesson.

“Nora, Doll, you are blushing to the roots of your hair!” He leaned forward, playful and teasing. “That is pretty tame! Not even the most adventurous, really.”

Nora suddenly stood, fanning herself with her hand. She was warm, far too warm.

“It’s your turn, Nora.”

She didn’t look back at him, and she didn’t sit back down. There had been the night in the park, but that story was far too embarrassing to divulge.

“We… I mean, we… We showered together once…”

There was laughter. Nora frowned, feeling embarrassed and hot. She cast a glare over her shoulder.

“Oh, F…” She hated swearing, it was unladylike. But this was a special occasion. “Fuck you.”

Hancock had the decency to try and hold back any more laughter. He reached out and took one of her hands, tugging her back into the couch. She flopped down inelegantly, allowing the ghoul to drape one of his arms over her shoulders.

“I’m only teasing, Nora. I know that it was a different time. Hell, it might as well have been a totally different planet. But… Doesn’t any of it excite you? Didn’t you two want to try any of it?”

Nora threw him a withering glance, “I haven’t heard of some of the things you mentioned.”

"That doesn't answer my question."

Hancock brought her in a little closer, and Nora thought it was a rather comforting gesture. She let her head lull into the crook of his arm, and then she sighed heavily. Maybe they were done talking about it, then. She desperately hoped that they were done discussing it, anyway. Jane Eyre was on the ground, and she wanted to read a little more before bed. And, hopefully, she would forget the whole discussion ever took place.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“With my life,” Nora replied without pause.

Hancock hummed, sounding thoughtful. “Do you trust me with something like this?”

“Like what?”

He smiled that smile again, all wicked and laden with dark promise.

Nora didn’t find Hancock attractive in a conventional sense. He was Nate’s polar opposite in nearly every aspect. Small and thin, but he was also taller than her, kinda stringy. Despite his size, though, she had seen him lift a man twice his size and slam him to the ground (she had stared at him in awe after that). His skin was destroyed, he had no nose, there were bits of exposed muscle, and sometimes she suspected that his hips would be nothing but raw bone. There was, however, something incredibly striking about the man. His eyes, though pitch black, were somehow incredibly expressive. When he smiled, when he grinned, he managed to look quite dashing. Paired with his charisma, his personality, Nora did find herself attracted to him, in a way that she wasn’t totally familiar with. It was attraction based on trust, on experience, and his personality. He could make her laugh like no other, make her smile, and he made her happy. There had never been any level of sexual attraction, not really, but suddenly in that moment…

That smile, dark and meaningful, those eyes smoldering in the warm lamp light…

The sexual attraction smacked into her like a Super Mutant’s sledgehammer. Nora suddenly felt quite jarred. Heat pooled in her belly, and her body practically pulsed. She suddenly felt far too warm – and it wasn’t because she was embarrassed. Where did that come from? It had been strictly platonic, and it was like he flipped a switch. If she had seen that smile from across the bar, she would have been mush. If she had seen those eyes gazing at her, glistening in warm lamp light, looking absolutely devilish, she would have followed him to bed with very little question. Hancock somehow garnered an immense amount of animal magnetism in less than a second.

When his fingers caressed the column of her throat, she closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. How long had it been since she had been touched in such a way? His touch was rough but somehow soft, tickling under mangled fingers. An unintelligible sound left her, not a moan, but a very failed attempt at speech.

“Would you let me educate you, Nora?”

“Wh-wha—“ she opened her eyes to see him leaning in, his mouth near her ear.

His voice was a rumbling purr, rough but somehow so smooth like barbed wire tearing into silk. “I want to fuck you, Nora. Let me show you everything that you have been missing.” The touch at her neck was gone, now he was just speaking and his voice was making her light headed. The smell of wood smoke surrounded her, encompassed her. “I will take such good care of you, Nora.”

“Ah… Uh…” she opened and closed her mouth, like a fish abandoned on land. “I…”

She was wet, she could feel the moisture in her panties. She had never been spoke to in such a way. Nate had never been so blunt with his speech. He had always let his voice trail off as he escorted her into bed, as he laid her down and moved on top of her.

Hancock’s voice was still a low growl in her ear, “Sleep on it. Let me know.”

“O…Oh… Okay.”

Nora retreated to the bedroom. There was very limited space at the truck stop, so when it came to dragging in a second bed for her ghoul companion, there was really only one option as to where it would be placed. They shared a room, their beds against opposite walls. Privacy wasn’t a huge issue. Hancock typically slept in just his pants, the rest of his clothes abandoned by his bed. Nora often stripped down to her shirt and panties while under her blankets. She would wad up her pants and push them to the foot of her bed so her clothes were warm when she went to get redressed.

She stared up at the ceiling for what felt like hours, while in reality it had only been a handful of minutes. Eventually, she found her fingers dipping beneath the blankets, slipping into her panties. She tentatively brushed her clit with the pad of one of her fingers. Nora was wet, more so than she expected. Keeping her eyes glued to the closed door, she dipped her fingers between her moist folds, prodding at the opening of her sex. Her eyes closed as she tried to determine what part of her body was more responsive to her hesitant touches. Her clit seemed the most sensitive, so she allowed her fingers to swipe along the bundle of nerves experimentally. A sigh left her and she lifted her hips – just as the door opened.

In a panic, Nora yanked her hand from her panties and quickly feigned sleep. Hancock typically stayed up quite late, drinking and getting high. She hadn’t expected him to be coming to bed so soon. Behind her eyelids she could see the warm glow of the lantern that Hancock carried. She heard the door close, and heard the lock secure into place. Hancock’s footfalls drew close to her bed. Nora found herself holding her breath. The lantern was lowered, she could see the light source shift. Suddenly, very suddenly, she felt pressure against her mons, felt him palm her sex through the bedding and her panties. Nora’s eyes shot open, her breath hitching in her throat as she stared up at Hancock. The ghoul was leaning down over her, grinning. “Do you want some help, Nora?” His palm pressed against her, rubbing slowly.

“I… Uh…”

There had been a time where Nora had been more than capable of articulating around the ghoul. Now, suddenly, she seemed incredibly incapable.

Hancock looked into her eyes as his hand slipped beneath the blanket. His mangled palm drifted over her thigh, slowly returning to her sex. Nora’s jaw went slack, and her eyes closed as his knuckle dragged over her labia through the moist material of her panties. A strained, ”Oh, yes” left her as her toes curled.

“You have to tell me that you want it, Nora. We aren’t going to half-ass this,” the blackness of his eyes glimmered in the warm lighting, looking bewitching, and devilish, and striking. He stroked her through her panties, nice and slow.

“What about after? What happens after?”

A soft smile formed across his features, “Why don’t we see how you feel in the morning?”

Nora recognized that he was trying to give her an out. If, after tonight, she didn’t want to continue along this path in their relationship then they wouldn’t. They would have tonight, and that would be the end of it – if that was what she wanted. Maybe she would enjoy their sexual escapades, maybe she would hate them and feel nothing but regret in the morning. Either way, she trusted Hancock. She trusted him with her life, her wellbeing – why wouldn’t she trust him with something a little more intimate?

In a moment of confidence she said, “Educate me then.” She shifted her hips into his fingers.

That smoldering heat was back in his eyes in an instant. It was all fire, and yearning. “Say you want me, Nora. Please.” His request was punctuated by his thumb pressing against her clit.

“I want you, Hancock. Please sh—“ in a flash the blanket was yanked from the bed, and her legs were draped over his slight shoulders. He lifted her body from the bed until she was reclined on her upper back and shoulders.

“Your safe word is Mentats.”

“Wha—“

His mouth encased her sex, panties and all. The suction he applied, even through her underwear was immense. His tongue prodded and stroked over the material, and Nora immediately found herself breathless and trembling. Nora was expecting sex, not for him to use his mouth on her. Nate’s mouth had never lingered south of her breasts, and even then the visits had been brief. The fact that Hancock’s mouth was lapping at her vagina was… it was something else. She had never imagined anyone’s mouth down there and now that there was… Damn. The suction made her ache deliciously as blood rushed to the surface of her skin. She felt sensitive and hot, and so damn wet.

Hancock pulled his mouth from her once her panties were thoroughly soaked with a combination of his saliva and her own fluids. He tugged them to the side, exposing her glistening lips and carefully trimmed downy curls. Hancock moaned, placing a wet kiss to the head of her clit, to her lips, and then to the quivering opening of her sex. Then his tongue was on her, lapping over the area nice and slow. His tongue was hot and velvety, dragging over her in one smooth stroke. Another moan vibrated against her skin.

“You’re delicious,” he rasped, his tongue dipping into her vagina only briefly. “So fucking delicious, Nora.”

His hands slipped over her rear, catching the waist of her panties with his fingers. He pulled them up over her thighs, forcing her legs to lift from his shoulders. He didn’t remove her panties all of the way. Instead, he left them on her calves. One of his hands fisted the material, and then her legs were being pushed back until her feet were above her head. The angle was embarrassing. She was so exposed to him, so open to his prying eyes – and she could watch him as he gazed at her sex.

“And you’re beautiful. Fuck…” his eyes flicked to hers, and then she saw his tongue. Hancock licked her deliberately slow as he looked into her eyes. She whimpered as the end of his tongue flicked against her clit. Slowly, very slowly, he removed his hat and dropped it near the bed. There was a moment of calm as he peered down into her eyes, and she gazed up into his. Then he lurched forward. His mouth enclosed her labia and her clitoris, and with an obscene slurp, his mouth created an air tight vacuum. His tongue was relentless, flicking over the taut bundle of nerves so quickly she cried out. Nora felt a gush of pleasure leave her sex, felt it slink up along his mouth, felt it slide along the crevice of her ass. Nora’s eyes rolled back in her head as he slid his two fingers into her opening. The questing digits curled slowly, pumping in and out of her to counteract the near frantic movement of his tongue. The coil in her abdomen was wound painfully tight, leaving her as a pulsating, needy mess.

“Haa-Hancock!” she whimpered, reaching to touch the cup the back of his head. She was already so damn close to cumming that it was painful. Just a moment longer, just a little more. “Oh, Hancock, please.” Her voice was airy and ragged, a weak sound of yearning.

A low growl tore through Hancock that reverberated throughout her entire body. His eyes bore into hers meaningfully before he lifted his mouth from her sex with a moist pop. Her pussy quivered around his fingers and she whined loudly.

“No touching,” he growled, maintaining eye contact as he kissed her sex. “And call me John.”

“John,” she whispered, and then pointedly reached behind her head, grabbing the bars that took place of her headboard. “Please, John. I was so close.”

Hancock smiled a glistening smile. He practically purred as he laved her with his tongue, lapping slow and lazy strokes. Nora wiggled, she rocked on her shoulder blades, briefly impaling herself on his still fingers, pushing herself closer to his mouth. He chuckled, a deep dark sound, and then he returned to her. His mouth was focused strictly on her clitoris, pinching her between his barely-there lips, and then his tongue went back to work, back to the frantic, mind numbing pace.

“Yes…” she cooed, grasping the bars with a white knuckle grip.

When he gave a forceful suck, bringing her engorged clit into his mouth, she shrieked, another curling motion of his fingers and she came undone. The entirety of her body began to tingle as her pussy clenched almost painfully. Hancock didn't stop. His mouth remained latched to her body, sucking and tonguing her with renewed determination.

The flicking motion of Hancock’s tongue continued, and the suction created by his mouth seemed to increase ten-fold. He wasn’t stopping. She came, she felt sensitive and over stimulated, but he wasn’t stopping. His tongue suddenly made rapid swirling motions around her clit, circling and lapping at the bundle of nerves. Her inverted legs were starting to tingle, falling asleep in the midst of their escapades. Nora whined, she yelped, she cried out – all of which were inarticulate noises that just stoked Hancock’s efforts.

“Ha-!” She gasped, another finger dipping into her opening. “Y-you have to sto-“ She was cut off as she gasped loudly. His teeth grazed her skin, introducing a barely-there pain in the midst of her mind boggling pleasure. “John, please!” He grazed his teeth against her again, then clamped his lips against her distended clit. Nora’s hand tore away from the metal bars, she reached for his head, trying to push him away, but he caught her. Her hand was pinned to the bed by her wrist. He snarled and the sound, so animalistic and feral, made her tumble over the edge yet again. He tore his mouth from her overstimulated sex. Nora went boneless, her knees sinking down towards his shoulders as she peered up at him blearily. He was gazing at her vulva, his fingers still buried deep inside of her as her walls clenched and pulsed.

Her labia were red, puffy and slick with a mixture of saliva and her own pleasure. Her clitoris was swollen and over sensitive, jutting out from beneath the narrow hood. When his fingers finally slid out of her vagina he was back to mouthing her vulva. He used his tongue to collect her juices with long, luxurious swipes of his tongue. The three fingers that had been inside of her were suddenly at her mouth, and he watched her expectantly. Slowly, she parted her lips and one of his fingers slid over her tongue. The texture of his skin was odd, she could feel divots and seams of muscle, and then she tasted herself. Slightly sweet, barely a taste at all. Hancock coaxed her into suckling each of his fingers clean as he licked, and sucked her quivering sex.

When she was finished he placed a wet kiss against her pussy, and then her legs were finally lowered back to the bed, allowing the blood to rush back to her strained limbs. Before she could catch her breath Hancock’s barely-there lips were upon hers, his tongue in her mouth before she could even process what was happening. He tasted like her pleasure. As his tongue swirled and thrust against hers he took one of her hands into his, and slowly guided her to palm his groin.

She whimpered.

He was hard, solid like rock.

Nora ran her palm over his girth through his pants. Her pleasure addled brain wondered what it would be like to have him on her tongue. She wanted to lick and suckle him much like he had done to her. She rubbed him with her fingers nice and slow as he palmed her breast through her shirt.

“Get on your knees, Nora,” Hancock ordered, his voice a jagged growl against her lips. Nora obeyed, finding that she rather liked him in control and ordering her around. Slowly, she rolled to her stomach, and then lifted herself onto her hands and knees. There was a whisper of clothing, the clank of boots hitting the ground. When she turned her head to look back at him she was spanked. Nora yelped in surprise, and then she whimpered. The sting of the strike was centralized just above her sex, and though it hadn’t been a particularly hard swat, the warm heat pulsed very close to her sensitive mound. She rubbed her thighs together, feeling the silken warmth of her pleasure smear against her skin.

Hancock’s hand slipped over the length of her spine, caressing nice and slow until his fingers were in her hair. He tugged until her head was bent back towards him, his erection pressed firmly against her ass.

“Are you ready, Sweetheart?” Hancock growled, rocking his hips slowly.

“I wanna touch you,” she confessed, ignoring his question. “Let me—“

“Ssh,” He purred, he bent low over her body, placing a quick kiss to her forehead. “Tonight is about your pleasure.”

“But I’ve already… I…” she swallowed. “Isn’t twice enough?”

Hancock released a rumbling laugh, deep and sultry and masculine as his tongue laved the side of her throat. “Twice is not nearly enough, Nora. You are going to be a mess when I am done with you. You won’t know if you want me to stop, or if you want me to give you more.”

Without any sort of warning, Hancock drew his hips back and then he thrust them forward, burying himself to the base. Nora screamed, not because of the pain but it did hurt a little. She didn’t scream because she was surprised, but she was quite surprised. She screamed because he was stretching her, filling her to capacity, and it felt so. Fucking. Good. She angled her pelvis back, ground her ass into his hips. She practically purred in delight.

“You’re so tight, Nora. Fuck.”

“John, you feel so good.”

They spoke in unison, voices rushed and ragged and needy. Nora loved the angle at which he penetrated her. She loved how animalistic the position was. The angle was completely unfamiliar to Nora, as her and Nate had always stuck with traditional missionary. This was something else, though. In this position she had a little bit more control of her own body and its movements. As Hancock gripped her hips and began to thrust, she was able to pump her body back to meet him. She rocked back on her knees, and when her skin slapped into his she whined. Little pin pricks of heat and pain stung the back of her thighs.

The pace was fast and rough. Hancock’s hands gripped her hips, yanking her back into his thrusts even as she shoved herself backwards into him. Nora’s pussy clenched around him, and she could feel the columns of muscle, the mottled textures on his dick. Nora’s mouth watered; she wanted to lick her pleasure from his cock. She wanted to experience all of the debauched things her friends had whispered about. She wanted heat, and pleasure, and she wanted doses of pain.

Nora suddenly wanted John to spank her again. Nora wanted John to pull her hair.

“S-aaah,” she whimpered. “Jo-John, spank me. Please.” Her face was flush with pleasure and embarrassment. What would Nate think?

Nora fully expected John to laugh, but instead he acquiesced to her request. His palm rubbed over her right ass cheek, nice and slow and soothing, and then he spanked her. It was a firm swat, delivered by a slightly cupped hand. The sound was loud and deafening, but the sting of pain was delicious.

“More. John, please. More.”

Hancock chuckled, though it wasn’t a mocking sound. He continued to thrust. “You like it when I spank you, Nora?”

“Yes,” she murmured, only feeling slightly ashamed as she shoved herself back against him, arching her back. She clutched her inner walls around him, gripping at his length greedily. “Please, John.”

“Gladly, Sweetheart.”

He spanked her while he fucked her. Every third or fourth thrust was accompanied by a firm smack to her ass. By the time both of her butt cheeks were hot and enflamed she was nearly boneless, pressing her face into her pillow, letting Hancock have full control of the pace he used. Nora’s walls were pulsating and quivering, and she was so damn close to cumming that she could cry. Hancock smoothed his palms over her ass, all gentle and slow.

“John…” He answered her unasked request with another smack. This time, he didn’t cup his hand. He used the flat of his palm, and spanked her – hard. The sound was like the crack of a whip, and the pain had her tumbling over the edge. She came, her ass in the air and her face in the mattress. She moaned, she whined and she writhed. John came only moments later, his cock embedded to the hilt. She felt him cum, felt him pulsate inside of her.

“Oh, yes,” she cooed into the pillow. “Yes!”

Hancock slipped out of her quickly, leaving her stretched but empty. He pushed Nora from her knees and onto her back – and it was only then that she got to see him. He was naked, and he looked so striking.

In another time, Nora would have sworn that she was looking at a burn victim. His skin was destroyed, necrotic and mangled. She could see the seams of muscle, the fibers that constructed the basic muscle groupings. He was scarred, and he was mottled, but with his lazy boyish grin, the stunning amount of confidence, and the burning heat in his eyes made him look incredibly dashing – and, somehow, incredibly sexy.

“Let me touch you,” she whispered, reaching out for him. Hancock caught her hand, and placed a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“Not yet, baby,” he said, his voice soft and tender though his eyes flickered wickedly. “I’m going to have my way with you.” He leaned down and kissed her, soft and slow. “I’m still so hard for you, Nora.”

“John, I’ve never… You made me…” She trailed off, embarrassed.

“What is it, Doll?”

“I’ve never…” she swallowed. “I’ve never climaxed so many times in such a short amount of time. I…”

“We aren’t finished yet,” he kissed her again, then leaned down over the edge of the bed. The sash that he typically had wrapped around his waist was in his hand, and he slowly brought it up to her eyes.

“Wh-What?”

The sash was tied into place and his scent overwhelmed her. Firewood and smoke, and sweetness assaulted her senses. She breathed in deep, filling her lungs with his scent. He gently took her hands into his, pushing them back up against the bed frame. There was a clicking, a rattling, and then her wrists were wrapped in cold metal. Nora yanked at her arms, finding that she had been handcuffed to the bed.

“John, no…”

“Ssh, Nora,” his voice was near her ear. He pressed a kiss to her lips.

“I feel so helpless. Please, John, I don’t like it…”

Another kiss, deep and sweet. “You said so yourself that you trusted me with your life. Let’s try this just once, Sweetheart. If you don’t like it, then we never have to do it again.”

Nora took a breath. It was dark behind the makeshift blindfold, she couldn’t see anything. Her wrists were cuffed above her head, and she was feeling helpless and vulnerable and she hated that… But she trusted him. She trusted him completely.

“Can we leave my feet untied? Please?”

“Of course, Doll.” Another kiss, and she nearly flinched at the unexpected contact. “Remember,” he purred. “Mentats.”

There was an expanse of time where there was absolutely nothing. There was no sound, no touch. All she could do was breathe, and anticipate his actions. Minutes ticked by and she began to squirm, tugging at her wrists…

And then his voice whispered into her ear, ragged but sultry, ”I’ve wanted you since I saw you, Nora,” And then his voice was at her other ear, still just a whisper. ”I’ve wanted to fuck you since you walked into Goodneighbor.”

Nora trembled. Something cold, like metal or steel, pressed against her collar bone, gently dragging against her skin. Nora gasped, feeling the blade’s sharp edge – and her core pulsed. It clenched at nothing, and her eyes bulged behind the blindfold. It was a knife, it was his knife. The flat edge of the blade dipped down beneath her shirt, and then the material tore away like paper. There was a beat of silence, and then the knife was back, straining the material between the cups of her bra.

“No--!”

There was a low chuckle, right next to her ear.

“You won’t be needing that anymore.”

Before she could scold him for destroying her one halfway decent bra, his hot mouth engulfed one of her nipples. Nora’s words tumbled into a needy whine as his tongue circled the erect flesh. Nora’s back arched, pressing her breast into his mouth, he was suckling, using teeth and tongue – and then he was gone. She flopped back onto the mattress, pulsating and shivering.

Then his fingers caressed her still enflamed sex, his fingers dipping into a mixture of their fluids. He pushed the digits up and over her clit, rubbing the pad of his thumb in a slow stroking motion, again and again until her body began to tense. And then he was gone again.

“John, you can’t—“

”I can do whatever I please, Nora,” he growled next to her ear. Nora flinched, having anticipated his voice originating near the foot of the bed as opposed to right beside her. His fingers danced along her ribs. "And if I want to tease you until you are begging, then I can do just that. I want to bring you to the brink of orgasm again, and again, until you can barely stand it. I will wait until you are delirious, and then I will fuck you senseless.”

Nora’s toes curled and she tilted her head back into the pillows, letting his voice wash over her. A distant part of her wondered if she could cum just by listening to the sound of his voice. His voice was pleasant on the best of days, but after their bed play it was deep and husky and she could hear his need, his yearning. She didn’t expect to enjoy the bit of bondage, she didn’t expect to want to try it on him, either. After dwelling on his lovely voice, she wondered what he would be like stretched on the bed, tied up and begging for her.

Hancock’s hands palmed her breasts, his breath at her ear. When he retreated the bed was shifted, pushing the frame away from the wall so he could have better access to the other side of her body, so he could come at her from all angles.

“That’s better,” he murmured from somewhere above her.

His fingers ghosted a trail from her breasts to her navel only to reappear at her opening. He slipped two fingers inside of her, curling the digits methodically, beckoning her climax to the surface. Nora helplessly rolled her hips. She was already quite close to cumming as her body had already been over stimulated… But then he was gone again, kissing her neck, sucking at her skin.

“Oh, Hancock,” she breathed, tugging at her wrists. “Please…”

A harsh bite was delivered to her neck, causing her to gasp.

”I thought I told you to call me John,” He rasped. His tongue traced the shell of her ear, and then he nibbled at the lobe.

“John,” she echoed needily, just before his mouth returned to her breasts. He suckled as if he was trying to feed from her body. She wanted to reach down and cup the back of his head, hold him close – and she wanted to watch. Nora so desperately wanted to watch him enjoy her body. He would watch her with those black eyes of his, they would shimmer in the lamp light and he would look like the devil, and she would give herself to him so readily.

When his mouth and hands left her breasts she whimpered and then gasped as his hand clasped around her throat.

”Can I cum on you, Nora? Can I cover you with my seed? Can I rub myself into your beautiful skin?”

Her body pulsed, her walls clenched on nothing and she inhaled deeply. Why did she want something so… dirty? Why did she want to be covered in him? Nora wanted to know if she had always been so perverse. Had anyone known that she even thought of having a man ejaculate on her she would have been a social pariah.

“Yes.” She trembled. “Yes, anything.”

"Anything?"

Nora was breathless as she felt his erection against the side of her breast. "Anything."

There was a rumbling growl of a sound as Hancock’s fingers dipped down over her mons. They slipped over her clitoris, dipping between her labia before entering her to the knuckle. The mattress dipped and shifted, and then there was a rhythmic rocking. Nora imagined him pumping his fist over his cock, looking her right in the eye as he jerked himself off. Nora clenched around his fingers greedily. Maybe he would cum on her breasts, maybe her stomach or her thighs or—his hands withdrew from her sex and she whined loudly.

“John,” she moaned “Plea-“ she gasped as he groaned loudly. She felt his ejaculate spatter over her breasts and her stomach. She felt his pleasure on her skin, leaving warm moist trails as it slid along the contours of her body. The sensation alone had her hips lifting off of the bed, her jaw nearly coming unhinged. Hancock’s hands began to rub at her breasts, slow and purposeful.

“You like that?” he growled into her ear, “You’re covered in me, sweetheart.”

She sighed in agreement, lifting her body to press into his roaming hands.

“Do you see everything that you been missing? You could have enjoyed all of this, Nora – and it’s nothing. This has been,” he chuckled. “This has been quite tame.” His fingers rolled her nipples. Nora’s body, already so turned to pleasure, writhed and lifted into his hands. When he was finished rubbing his seed into her skin, his fingers smoothed over her sex, swirling around her clit.

“John,” she moaned.

“What’s wrong, baby?” His voice was a pleased purr.

“I want you so bad,” she murmured. “Please.”

Hancock moaned into her ear, low and ragged. “You’re so sexy when you beg for me.” He shifted on the bed, the mattress shaking and moving under him as he got situated. His hands slid up along her thighs. “Here I come, doll…”

His rough hands wrapped her legs around his small waist, his palms moving smoothly over her skin. She felt his erection brush against her opening and Nora was trembling all over again, arching and wiggling her hips. Nora expected Hancock to pound into her vagina and fuck her until she couldn’t walk straight, but when Hancock slipped inside of her it was nice and slow, a gentle roll of his hips. Hancock’s body slowly stretched on top of hers, hands sliding up along her ribs and palming her breasts. Then his hand cupped her neck before he was bracing himself above her. Hancock’s thrusts were deep and slow. It wasn’t the harsh fucking that she wanted, but the tenderness he exhibited made tears gather in her eyes. Nora sighed softly, thrusting her hips to meet his slow and steady. She wanted to hold him. She wanted to look into his eyes…

And as if he had read her mind, the sash was tugged from her face. Their eyes immediately met. Nora’s breath caught in her throat. She knew that look – she had seen it every day for several years. Hancock was looking at her like she was his world. This wasn’t just sex. Hancock was loving her, and she so desperately wanted to hold him as he did.

“John, let me hold you.” She tugged at her wrists, the chain rattling against the bed frame. Hancock reached above her, tugging at one of the cuffs. There was a click and one of the cuffs fell from her wrist. In a flash she had her arms around him, the cuffs dangling from her left wrist as she clutched at his back. She pulled him close for a kiss. Hancock moaned into her mouth, his pace faltering just slightly.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, Nora,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “I’ve wanted you so bad.” He thrust into her once more and then stilled as he placed all of his focus on kissing her. His tongue slipped into her mouth, curling around hers and thrusting slowly. Nora cupped the back of his head, kissing him until her lungs burned for air. She tilted her head back, gasping.

“You’ve wanted me?”

“More than anything,” he rasped. “I wasn’t going to say anything but,” he spoke softly, still buried deep inside of her. “If this continues after tonight, I’m not letting you go, Nora. I can’t.”

“And tonight?”

“If you want tonight - just tonight,” he began to rock his hips again, picking that slow rhythm he had started with. “Then I guess I will have to make the most of my time.”

It was her decision again. He was letting her decide on what they were doing with their relationship. It was her decision for them to be together tonight, and he was leaving it up to her on where they would be going with their relationship after. Hancock pushed his feelings to the side and left it up to her. Nora’s legs tightened around his hips. She brought him in close and kissed him. There were no more words exchanged, just heavy breathing and ragged moaning. Nora climaxed looking into his eyes, their forehead nearly touching as they exchanged heavy gasps of air. Hancock came, buried to the hilt inside of her, kissing her like she was a lifeline.

When they were finished, gasping and sated, they lay in bed together. Nora was curled into his side, tracing his fingers over a particularly nasty scar on Hancock’s abdomen. Her head was on his chest, and she was warm and comfortable.

“So?” he murmured quietly.

“It was incredible,” she murmured, blushing slightly. “I didn’t think that I would ever enjoy it nearly as much as I did.”

There was a low chuckle, his fingers dipping into the ends of her hair.

“Well, I aim to please.” He murmured, placing a kiss to the top of her head. He suddenly sighed, and then began to sit up. Nora gripped his body, keeping him in bed.

“John, if you think you are going to rob me of post coital cuddling then you’re out of your mind.”

“Baby,” he said, smiling softly. “I’m about to fall asleep.”

Nora leaned over the bed, reaching for the lantern that was still burning. She snuffed the light, then returned to his side, pulling the blanket over the both of them.

“Then fall asleep.”

“Nora…”

She tilted her head back, kissing his jaw. “John, close your eyes.” Eventually, his body relaxed into the bed, his arm wrapping around her shoulders in an warm embrace. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Doll…”

Nora woke before Hancock, as she usually did. She was still curled against him, his arm wrapped around her. For several minutes she simply rested beside him, warm and comfortable. She mulled over the night before, thinking over what he had said. If they continued with whatever it was that they had started, then he wouldn't let her go. Slowly, her eyes drifted up to his face. His eyes were closed and he looked peaceful and comfortable. Nora watched him for a moment. She trusted this man, in every way that there was to be trusted and she loved him; she would readily give her life for his. Nora could very easily see herself with him, could see herself loving him far more than she already did.

But only on one condition…

Nora was quick about securing him to the bed. She cuffed his hands to the bed frame just as he had done with her the night before, using the same handcuffs that he did. His ankles were secured with nylon rope, keeping his legs straight and spread. She used the remains of her shredded t-shirt as the blindfold, carefully wrapping the material over his closed eyes. By the time she was finished she was giddy with anticipation, and she was wet. The idea of being in control was tantalizing.

Nora tossed her hair over her shoulder and leaned down low. Her mouth hovered over his groin. Shooting a glance towards his obscured face, she exhaled softly, brushing her lips over the head of his penis. His flaccid member twitched to life, instantly growing firm and erect. Nora watched, mesmerized as his organ hardened, all with a gentle caress of her lips. Slowly, hesitantly, she caressed the end of his penis with her tongue, and when he shifted his hips up in just the slightest of movement, she wrapped her lips around him and suckled.

A moan tore through Hancock’s throat and his whole body jerked, the cuffs clanked, the ropes strained audibly. Nora grinned, swirling her tongue around his cock before she leaned back, licking her lips.

“Good morning.”

“N-Nora?”

“You said that if we did anything past last night that you wouldn’t let me go,” she murmured, then grazed her teeth against his hip. Her hair brushed over his stomach, his erection, his thighs. “But there is something that you should keep in mind, John,” she moved, dragging her hair along his skin, he exhaled his breathing erratic. “I don’t share. At all.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” His voice was harsh with sleep but it was also low and husky. Nora traced her tongue along the column of engorged muscle. His legs strained against his bonds.

“I’m saying,” she dragged her teeth under the head of his penis, experimenting with her new found power. “That I will be yours, if you will be mine.”

“Yes,” he said immediately, his hips lifting from the bed as he tugged at his wrists. “C’mere, baby. Let me kiss you.”

Nora straddled him, her body caging him as she leaned down and pressed her lips to his mouth. Hancock lifted his head from the bed, trying to take control of the kiss – and Nora let him. His tongue curled around hers, kissing her slowly. Nora lowered her hips until she could rub herself against him. She was already slick and ready, so she pressed herself against him, grinding her pussy over his girth. When John released a harsh, ragged moan against her lips, Nora broke the kiss, as well as the contact their lower bodies shared.

“You little minx,” he purred, allowing himself to relax back into the bed.

“I’m experimenting,” she chuckled. “I’ve never been on top before.”

The cuffs clanked against the bed frame. “Let me go and I can teach you.”

“I rather like you tied up in my bed, John,” she said, completely unable to contain the smile that nearly split her face. Nora lowered herself against him, her sex grinding against his penis as she sighed softly into his ear. Just as Hancock thrust upwards against her, she was off of the bed, circling him slowly. The cement floor left her footfalls soundless. She felt like a predator. She felt in control and she felt sexy.

“Baby, c’mere. Ride me.”

Nora sighed, closing her eyes. That sounded delicious. She suddenly leaned down and nipped at his neck, then laved the space with her tongue to soothe the sting. Hancock tipped his head away from her, giving her more access. Nora kissed at his skin, suckled and nipped and licked… and then she stepped back. Dammit, she wanted to fuck him. She wanted to fuck him so bad. She would, but not yet. Not quite yet. Nora got back onto the bed, straddling his stomach. Her fingers dipped down to her vagina. She thumbed her clit, and slipped to fingers inside of herself. Nora rocked her hips so he could feel the movement of her body. She swallowed back any nervousness that she felt, licking her lips.

“A-are you… Fuck, Nora, are you –“

“I am…”

“Well shit, Sweetheart, can I at least watch?”

Nora chuckled, “No, I don’t think so.”

Nora stopped just before she came, her toes curling and her vagina practically dripping her pleasure onto his stomach. Her eyes flickered to his mouth and she reached out, fingers glistening as she traced his lower lip. Hancock’s tongue shot out, finding her finger, curling and lapping at the digit. Nora closed her eyes, she wanted his mouth back at her sex. She wanted his tongue on her clit and even though she had the option to sit on his face, she didn’t quite have the guts for that. Not yet.

She did, however, have the nerve to slip back, to move her knees between his legs.

“I want to suck on you,” she murmured.

“You don’t even have to ask m—“ His voice cut off abruptly when she wrapped her lips around the head of his penis and sucked, her tongue swirling around him. She bobbed her head slowly, taking more of him into her mouth. He brushed the back of her throat, and the sound that came from his throat made her shiver. “C’mon, Nora, you can take it. A little deeper, honey.”

Nora tried, a little deeper and her gag reflex had her yanking back as her muscles in her throat worked uncomfortably.

“Relax your throat,” Hancock said, voice ragged.

She licked her lips, before she had him back in her mouth. She bobbed her head up and down, sucking as she worked him back towards her throat. His hips lifted off of the bed, rocking upwards as she bobbed down. Nora was able to relax her throat, and Hancock moaned, his hips thrusting upwards sharply.

“Nora,” he rumbled, the handcuffs clanking loudly. “I don’t know if you- Nora, no… Nora.” His voice was weak as she pulled her mouth from him completely. She exhaled, her breath fanning over his wet skin before she sat up. “Fuck, Nora."

Nora chuckled, licking her lips. She moved to straddle him. Once he was inside of her she sank to the base. She murmured his name, her eyes closed tight. He felt so big, and he was in her so deep that she could feel him at her cervix. She began to rock slowly, testing the motion of her hips. She lifted herself with her knees, then slowly sank back against him, her head rolling back.

“Let me see you, Nora,” he murmured. “Take the blindfold off.”

Still impaled on his length, Nora leaned forward, pressing her breasts to his chest as she lowered her mouth to his ear.

“No.”

The sound that he released sounded similar to that of a rabid dog. His arms strained against the handcuffs. She sat up, resuming her hesitant rhythm, rocking slowly for several minutes. When Hancock’s breath went ragged, when his hips snapped up into hers she lifted herself off of him. As much as she liked being in control, as much as she liked seeing him struggle to touch her, she liked him being in control more. She would drag this out a little longer, though. She would deny him for as long as she could.

“Nora, please…” That voice, usually so gravely and firm, was reduced to a rasping yearning sound. She mounted him again, but this time she barely took the tip of him inside of her, teasing him.

“Tell me you want me.”

“Nora…”

“Tell me, John.”

His arms strained against the cuffs again. Just as Nora thought that he was going to pull one of his arms out of its socket, one of the cuffs broke. The locking mechanism snapped open, and he was on her in a flash. He yanked the shirt from his eyes, and then his hands were at her waist, yanking her down on his cock. Nora nearly screamed. Hancock sat up, holding her tightly to him as he thrust upwards against her. Nora whimpered, her arms wrapping around his neck. Her lips found his mouth and she kissed him as she gyrated her hips down against his. Hancock groaned, thrusting into her urgently. He broke the kiss to look up into her eyes, and the intensity in his gaze was staggering.

“Just like this, Nora,” he growled, moving her into his hips as he thrust upwards. “Ride me,” he murmured. Nora bounced on top of his cock, riding him just as she was told. Hancock fell back onto the mattress, hands still gripping her hips as Nora moved in a frantic rhythm. When he pressed his thumb against her clit she saw stars, her eyes wide as she hit her climax so abruptly. Her pace faltered and she went completely still as she clenched around him, squeezing and gripping and pulsating. He came shortly after, pulling her flush against him as he emptied himself inside of her.

When they were finished, after Nora untied his legs as they were resting in the bed, he kissed her lips, grinning dazedly.

“You’re incredible,” he said quietly.

Nora smiled, “I have a good teacher.”

[wastelandbfs]

Chapter four is up!

Scorched Earth Synopsis:

There's a big Radstorm a-brewin' and the only thing Hancock can think about is getting as far away from her as soon possible. He has to...before he ends up doing something he might regret.

Little excerpt of Chapter 4 here for ya:

She’d lost sight of Hancock a while back, her breathing hitching in panic as she struggled to catch up. She couldn’t understand it, her mind desperately going over the events of the last few days, picking every interaction apart as she tried to figure out what had happened to make him change so...suddenly. Was it her? Had she done something wrong? A nauseating combination of guilt and uncertainty rolled through her stomach. She pressed her fingers against the red mark on her wrist, disappointment settling in her chest. As they’d travelled together and his touches had become more frequent she’d grown used to how easy it had been. She marvelled at how quickly she had fallen for those little moments, the texture of his skin, the comfort of his hand in hers, the heat of his body pressed against her.

[thehouseoflore]

I don’t know. I think they are going to fall in love.