#ghoul x human

[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.”

#Fallout 4 #Fallout Fanfiction #Ghoul x Human #Hancock x Female Sole Survivor #ghoul boyfriend #MDNI #Fallout Kink Meme Fill #Fallout 4 Hancock #teratophila #fallout #fallout ghoul

[eruden-writes]

Graveyard Smash

Just a dirty little tale that happens around Halloween. Fair warning, I did not re-read this or edit. This was all pretty much written in 1 sitting yesterday.

I have ideas for 2 more installments, but not sure if I'll get to them.

A witch pushes a cemetery's ghosts too far and the the resident "keeper" - a ghoul - decides she needs to pay penance.

tw: noncon/dubcon, spanking, caning, restraint.

x.x.x.x.x

Read in full on Patreon.

x.x.x.x.x

Dark and brisk, it was the perfect October night to stroll through a local graveyard. The half moon hung low in the sky, behind blue-tinged clouds. Light pollution made it hard to see the stars, though Tillie had an easy time maneuvering the cemetery. Her cell phone’s flashlight helped, but so did her sense of confidence when walking between tombstones.

Having recently moved to the area, Tillie thought to cross off “meeting the local spirits in the cemetery” off her list. The night was relatively temperate and it was the spooky season, after all. 

As such, she found herself conversing with the spirit of a young woman, Abigail, dressed in 1800s garb. 

An expression of increasing discomfort spread over Abigail’s face as the conversation continued. Until she eventually whined, “I don’t wish to speak to you any longer.” 

“I just have a few more questions.” Tillie raised a finger up, looking imploringly at the ghost. She had already asked about Abigail’s family life and what led up to her death. With each question, the phantom’s frown grew and a distant look sunk into her eyes. 

“Enough! Please!” Abigail spun away, a cold breeze kicked up around her. She floated away from Tillie, her hands pressed to her ears though it would do nothing to abate the witch’s curiosity. 

Undeterred, Tillie followed after Abigail, notebook and pencil poised in her hands. “Please, did you have any suspicions that your husband would kill you? Did you try speaking to your family about it?” 

From a near distance, Mortem watched the scene play out. Though his beaky mask obscured his expression, a displeased aura emitted around him. 

The figure made a motion with his hand and glowing green skeletal arms shot up from the ground. Tillie yelped, dropping her journal and pencil as bony fingers curled around her wrists. The disembodied arms tugged until she was embarrassingly bent over a tombstone, the hem of her dress riding high. Tillie flushed, feeling the cool breeze caress along her legging- covered upper thighs. Her plush stomach cushioned her from the stone, but the overall position was still awkward.

“What’s the meaning of this,” Tillie demanded, struggling against her bony binds. Her boots kicked out, trying to gain leverage against the tombstone. Cold dread drizzled through her as someone spoke up behind her.

“You have disturbed the spirits in their final resting place.” Stepping from his shadowy perch, Mortem neared the witch. He hadn’t meant to drape her over a tombstone, but he couldn’t say he necessarily regretted it as his gaze trailed the curvature of their rear. 

The black dress she wore was relatively short, with lacy sleeves, but she maintained her modesty with her leggings. A necklace with a star and dangling crescent earrings hinted to what Mortem could smell on her. The scent of a witch.

She had traipsed into his graveyard and introduced herself - Tillie Ravenswood, she/her and they/them - to any spirits she could find. Each discussion led to her overwhelming the spirit until they dissipated into the void. Then she would saunter off to find another victim.

“I was merely asking questions!” This was ridiculous! She had simply been asking the spirits questions, which is what she had done in her hometown. Albeit, those ghosts were used to nosy witches, since she and her family had grown up with them. A small bead of guilt swelled up in her chest at that thought. Had she gone too far?

Her struggles appeared to falter, rousing Mortem’s curiosity. No matter, she had already issued damage. Taking another step forward, he continued, “In incessantly doing so, you have upset many residents within these hallowed grounds. A punishment is necessary.” 

“Excuse me?” She jerked, trying to look over her shoulder at whoever spoke. She caught a glimpse of a long dark coat encasing a tall, lithe figure; a mask and wide-brimmed hat reminiscent of a plague doctor. However, with the darkness, it was hard to discern details beyond the silhouette.

It had been a long time since a witch meandered into his graveyard. Even longer still since he felt the stirring of carnal attraction. Perhaps that was merely thanks to the time of the year, when the population at large turned their mind to ghouls and ghosts. Acknowledgement fueled power and power could make a being do unusual, ill-thought things. Which was where Mortem found his thoughts heading. 

Mortem flipped her skirt up, running a gloved spindly finger along the curve of her ass. Tillie squeaked, mortified heat licking up her cheeks. “What do you think you’re doing!”

“Eliciting penance,” replied Mortem, removing his coat and rolling up the sleeves of his button-up shirt. He kept his gloves on, tugging on them to be sure they would not slip before setting his hat atop his folded coat.

“Excuse yo—” Tillie didn’t get a chance to finish her defiant statement when Mortem’s hand struck her rump. Her words dwindled into a confusing groan, a mix of pain and pleasure. The sound repeated as he spanked her again and again, his open palm stinging across her skin. Tillie gasped with each hit, squeezing her thighs close together as an involuntary whine wheedled from her throat. 

“Ah, you don’t sound penitent. Perhaps more drastic measures?” Amusement colored Mortem’s tone as he watched the squirming witch.

She didn’t like the cruel smile she heard in the figure’s voice. A second later, her suspicions were confirmed as something blunt struck her fleshy ass cheeks. The breath escaped her in a sharp exhale, her back arching and her head tossing backward. Her toes curled as her legs straightened, unintentionally pushing her rear higher up. 

Mortem gave an amused huff before bringing his cane down against the witch’s rear again. The way she jolted at the impact, a delicious groaning-gasp escaping her, made dangerous feelings swarm through his body. He hadn’t felt so delighted in such a very long time. 

He stepped back, watching her gasp down breaths. Her face flushed a pleasant pink and her legs trembled slightly. On the air, he could taste something heady, something alluring. It made him hungry for more.

In a droll tone, he sighed, “Oh no, you’re enjoying this too much.” 

“I assure you, I’m not,” Tillie panted, though even her own tone sounded uncertain in her ears. She couldn’t necessarily say the pain was bad. In fact, it sent tingles coursing over her body. Her nipples stiffened under the fabric of her bra and heat churned in her center. Part of her didn’t mind admitting to enjoying the treatment, even as she experimentally tugged at the bony hands holding her wrists.

“Another tactic then.” Mortem grasped the tight pants she wore under her dress, yanking the waistband up and over her round derriere. He peeled the leggings and her underwear lower, until swaths of her skin lay bare under his eye. Unable to help himself, Mortem ran two gloved fingers along her slit, excitement pulsing through him as she flexed.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Tillie swallowed, still not entirely sure how she felt about the situation. The spanking and caning, though not on the up-and-up, hadn’t been terrible. The strikes could have been much worse and she still wasn’t sure who - or what - she was dealing with. 

She highly doubted they were a sorcerer or warlock. They certainly weren’t a spirit.

Oooh, no. They did not feel like a wispy spirit or phantom. They were too warm, too firm to be anything incorporeal, Tillie thought. Which meant they had to be a ghoul, which honestly didn’t narrow down the list of abilities or weaknesses. Ghoul had increasingly become a catch-all term for any number of spirits or entities, hybrid or atypical. 

Unaware of Tillie’s assessing thoughts, Mortem leaned over her. His hands slid up her sides, his chest pressed to her back. He palmed both her breasts in his still-gloved hands, excited by how her breath caught. Feeling bold, he tugged the neckline of her dress down, scooping one hand into the cup of her bra. 

Tillie arched into his touch as his thumb skimmed her hardened nipple. Mirroring his words, his fingers dug into her breast as he said, “I will squeeze penance from you yet.” 

At the touch, she exhaled sharply before breaking into a laugh. For whatever reason, she didn’t feel altogether frightened of them. “Are you sure it’s not me who will be squeezing something from you?” 

“Aren’t you cheeky?” Mortem leaned further over, letting his mask of a face hover near her shoulder. His hands slid away from Tillie, unfastening his trousers enough for his arousal to escape.

Just as he moved, a cloud puttered away from the moon, shining fresh light down onto the graveyard. Tilting her head, Tillie got a much better look at her companion. 

As their silhouette had suggested, they wore a plague doctor mask. At some point, they had divested themself of their coat and hat. If there were any other details, she couldn’t see. What she thought was a black bodysuit seamlessly tucked up to the mask and extended below their shirt. Tillie thought she caught eyes in the glass goggle-like structures of the mask, but it was too difficult to confirm.

She couldn’t focus on the thought of his mask for very long as something very firm and very warm wedged between her thighs. Licking her lips, Tillie frantically sought something to say. The ghoul tilted their head, as if amusedly waiting for her to speak.

Tillie couldn’t help herself. She swallowed hard, fighting down a smile as she asked, “Are you a graverobber? Because that’s a big bone you’re smuggling in your trousers.”

It shouldn’t have been possible for Mortem to choke, but the sputtering sound he made came close. He pulled back from the witch, carefully pressing his forehead to the back of her shoulder so as not to poke her with his beaky mask. His hands drew away from her breasts, grasping the tombstone beneath her for support.

“What?” Tillie laughed, her smile growing as she sensed the awkward incredulity radiating from the ghoul. She faintly wondered if her words shocked them out of their horniness.

“I believe,” Mortem began softly, his voice low and stern, “that deserves extra punishment, witch.”

x.x.x.x.x

Read the rest on Patreon!

#halloween #halloween smut #plague doctor #ghoul #ghoul x human #ghoul x witch #witch #spooky season #halloween 2023 #Mortem is a ghoul who looks like a plague doctor #BUT ghoul is just a catch-all term for spirits not easily filed into particular definitions #Also I really really liked Tillie's awful graverobber joke #extra terrible #10 points #lol #this was kind of difficult to write since Tillie couldn't see Mortem for pretty much any of it and he has interesting anatomy

[endeenderman]

So I was thinking, you know how in Tokyo Ghoul Shuu Tsukiyama kidnaps Nishiki’s girlfriend in season 1, what if...by a miracle, Shuu ended up with a human lover, do you think Nishiki will attempt to harm them? Or at least scare the hell out of them and Tsukiyama? Personally I think he would, an eye for an eye they say~, maybe I’ll write a fic about it at some point 😅if anyone else gets inspired feel free to write one as well, but please tag me in your post, because 1) I really want to see what you guys can come up with and 2) well it was my idea in the first place you know what I mean? 😅💕

#tokyo ghoul x reader #tokyo ghoul #Tokyoghoul #tokyo ghoul anime #tokyo ghoul manga #tokyo ghoul imagines #Tokyo ghoul scenarios #shuu tsukiyama #nishiki nishio #kimi nishino #Ghoul x human #anime #manga #otaku

[goooogins]

something something coop's got a thing for the good girls...

#fallout series #fallout amazon #cooper howard #lucy maclean #the ghoul #vaultghoul #ghoulcy #lucy x cooper #and yes there is an argument to be made that barb actually did a very much not good thing #but coop didn't know that at the time #goody twoshoes human jerky ass

[kabukiaku]

pick up that satanic popstar and let him kiss you!!!!

and no Terzo's not 4' 9" here omega is just very beeg.

#my art #the band ghost #terzomega #terzo x omega #digital art #papa emeritus iii #omega ghoul #human x monster #human x demon #size difference #omega3 #ghost fanart #terzo is at LEAST 5' 5" and that's already way taller than me

[monstersmashorpass]

SMASH OR PASS: Abe Sapien, Hellboy

[Art, left; Abe in the Abe Sapien comics] [Middle; Doug Jones as Abe in the Del Toro Hellboy movies] [Right; Abe in the animated Hellboy movies]

Notes from Mod Ghoul: deadass Im convinced the Shape of Water happened bc Del Toro saw how the fandom thirsted for Abe, okay? Abe is an OG 💪 give this fish the love he deserves. Do it!!! He's a good lad!! Deserves so much love!!

Also if ur a fan of Hellboy in general and u haven't watched the animated films, wtf are u doing. go watch them. do it. this is a threat. (affectionate)

Please reblog for greater sample size, as per usual!

#monster smash or pass #smash or pass poll blog #monster romance #monster lover #poll blog #monster fucker #monster x human #tumblr polls #poll #abe sapien #hellboy #bprd #hellboy movies #hellboy comics #bprd comics #abe sapien comics #ghoul's propaganda #propaganda added #the polls

[cinyemina]

fanfics, headcanons, theories, fanons and fanarts keeps a fandom alive, even after it ends

#fandom #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #chainsaw man #psycho pass #death note #yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #tokyo ghoul #tokyo revengers #harry potter #omniscent reader's viewpoint #spy x family #headcanon #fanon #theory #fanart #fanfic #ajin demi human #ajin #monster #jujutsu kaisen #classroom of the elite #the glory #anime #anime weeb #weeb #manga #percy jackson

[ghouljams]

Professor love is stronger than I because I would take one look at professor ghost and be bent over his damn desk

Professor/Dr. Love (PhD) is honestly stronger than any marine, I would have folded as soon as Ghost told me to sit down. Treat me like a damn student, thank you professor ❤️🧎

She bends over his desk all the damn time and he just ignores her. She tries a shorter skirt and the only thing it gets her is Ghost holding a book behind her so no one (else) stares. She's really starting to think her usual flirting isn't working.

(Ghost is so fucking feral for this woman. He must have worms in his brain the way she's constantly on his mind. It takes everything he has not to fuck her over his desk. She is ruining his life, he's going to make her the mother of his children. She's rabid and he wants her to bite him. He's already picked out their first dance song.)

#ghoul speaks #simon ghost riley #cod x oc #x oc #ghost x oc #oc: love #professor!Ghost #i think she gets a kick out of being called doctor love #feels like a super villain #or a really stupid porno #its a nickname because her focus in anthropology is human relationships #specifically love sex and marriage #lots of work on fertility rituals and marriage rights #lots of poetry scraps and courtship ritual studies #shes a doctor of loveeee

[bluravenite]

Here's a really dumb doodle crossover I made for no reason lol

I might post more ghoul art /personal art eventually, I am growing a bit more comfortable with it again!

I still gotta get over the fact that validation ≠ worth!!

Tshirt translations ↓ read more

Warning ⚠️ bad words in Spanish lmao

Swiss (blue): "me pica el culo" my ass itches 💀

Blitz (pink): "chupame el pito" suck my ween 💀💀

#raven rambles #bluravenart #ghost fanart #nameless ghouls #fanart #swiss ghoul #my wips #alpha ghoul #alpha ghost #swiss ghost #stolas #blitzø #blitzo #helluva boss blitz #stolas x blitz #human au #human blitzø #human stolas #helluva boss #helluva fanart #helluva blitzo #helluva stolas

[devilry-revelry]

After Nora | Hancock x Female!Sole Survivor

-

(Ancient) Prompt fill for the (ancient) Fallout Kink Meme —

The Prompt: Despite his charisma and laid back nature about his ghouliness, Hancock actually hasn't had too much physical contact with others since he went ghoul. Maybe he's reluctant to get close to someone, maybe he's too busy being mayor, etc. Then the SS comes along, and it isn't long before he's craving their touch and to be near them. He's itching for physical contact but he's worried that the SS might not want to get that close to him for various reasons. How Hancock proceeds and how the SS reacts is up to you! Of course, I'd want it to end with Hancock getting the affection he desires.

-

Hunger. That was the best way to describe it. Hancock felt it as he walked, as he moved, and as he breathed. It was particularly noticeable in the dead of night as he lay back in bed and gazed up at the ceiling. No amount of drugs did anything to mute the persistent yearning, confirming that the hunger would be a perpetual part of his life. The sleepless nights had become nearly painful, but it was a pain he was familiar with. It could not be ignored, but it could be dealt with. The listlessness he felt was chalked up to a mild to severe case of depression, just like the lethargy, and his empty headedness. There were days where he simply existed, and existing was good enough.

Or, at least, it had been.

When the Vault Dweller came to town merely existing was no longer an option. The day Nora rolled into Goodneighbor was the day that the persistent yearning hunger turned into something so much more apparent in his day-to-day life. The hunger felt tangible. There were days where he thought that if someone looked at him long enough they would be able to see a great yawning void within him. Hancock had planned to ignore the Vaultie until the knowledge of her existence was purged from his memory. It didn’t work. When he wasn’t seeing her, he was hearing about her; whether it was from the citizens of Goodneighbor, or on the radio. Then, somehow, the woman had wiggled her way into his life and keeping her at arms length became that much more difficult. She was around Goodneighbor often. When she was in town he wished that she would leave. Her being so close yet out of reach left him feeling needy and bereft. When she was gone he desperately wanted her to return. He worried about her damn near constantly. Her presence, or lack thereof, became another painful constant in his life.

One day, he woke up and decided to face it. He woke up and decided to face her. The nearness to the object of his desire had his body practically buzzing in anticipation. Her company alone pleased him just as much as it upset him. So close, yet still so far away.

“You want to travel together?” Nora asked him, her head tilting to the side. “What about Goodneighbor?”

“I’ve been too comfortable. Getting too used to this lifestyle. I need to get out and sharpen the old warrior instincts.” He met her eyes, saw her smile that perfect smile of hers. “I would like to tag along with you, if you’d have me.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” He felt more excited than he should have been.

“Yeah.” Nora held out her hand. Hancock’s gaze focused on her palm, on her fingers. He wanted to touch her, wanted to hold her hand. He wanted to travel the map of lines on her palm with his fingertips.

He settled for the handshake.

Her palm was warm and soft, while her fingers carried a soothing chill. The handshake ended far too quickly, and Hancock barely managed to hold back a sound of disapproval that grated against the back of his throat. Had he let it, it could have easily been a whine or a desperate whimper. The hunger that he experienced wasn’t sexual, it wasn’t a carnal hunger. It was an overwhelming desire to be touched. And not to be picky, he wanted it to be by someone who cared or someone he cared for. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep with her tucked so securely in his arms that he knew that she would still be beside him when he woke up. He wanted to hold her hand. He wanted to lace his fingers between hers and just… exist. Just existing with Nora would be a beautiful existence, to be sure. Far better than existing alone.

But the handshake was fine, he told himself. The handshake would have to do.

//

At some point in his life, Hancock let himself lose track of time. Half-past leaving Diamond City and turning into a ghoul he simply stopped paying attention. As far as he was concerned the time, the date, was always After. After leaving Diamond City. After ghoulism. Days, weeks, birthdays, and holidays were all blurred together in a haze of Jet and Mentats, Lethargy and sleepless nights. The next time Hancock had the opportunity to touch Nora again was exactly nine days after leaving Goodneighbor. He didn’t recall keeping any sort of mental tally, but some part of him knew that it had been nine days, and he knew it without question. Nine days of walking the Commonwealth, doing nothing in particular but cleaning up riff-raff. Nine days of sleeping on the other side of the campfire, sharing meals and sharing stories. Nine days of being so damn close to her that he could smell her – but never touching. Not once.

They had been ambushed by raiders. After nine days of clearing out their strongholds, the raiders had clearly decided to hunt the duo down. Though they won the fight, they did receive a bit of a beating. Nora, whose armor had been in a state of disrepair during the ambush, had a pool cue broken across her back. Hancock took a bullet to his shoulder. Though painful, the injuries were incredibly minor when compared to what typically happened when unsuspecting persons were ambushed by raiders.

After the raiders were dispatched they found a safe place to hunker down so they could tend to their wounds. They hid out in the back of an old bus, sitting on the dirty floor as Nora unloaded all of her medical equipment from her rucksack. Hancock shrugged his coat from his shoulders and tugged at the plunging neck of John Hancock’s tunic to expose the bullet wound. The bullet didn’t go too deep, but it was deep enough that he couldn’t pry the lead out with his fingers. Another scar to add to his collection. Not that it mattered. Turning into a ghoul fucked up his body so badly he couldn’t really differentiate between scars and what would be considered normal. Slender fingers slipped into view, and before he could brace himself for the contact, Nora was touching his arm. Barely-there pressure was applied to his skin, and he dragged in a ragged breath. He would let her think that it was a sound brought out by pain, but it was caused by her proximity, her willingness to help him.

“It’s not deep,” she said, breaking the contact. His eyes shot to hers. Nora was leaning in close – so close he could smell the floral perfume she had spritzed on her clothes however many days ago. He could see the dusting of freckles that danced across her nose. Though he felt the urge to kiss her, the desire to press his forehead against hers was so much stronger. He wanted to press his forehead to hers, card his fingers into her hair, and close his eyes and just breathe.

Nora held up a set of forceps and asked, “Do you want me to…?”

“Go ‘head.”

The woman reached out and touched him again, though this time it was firm and so much more real than the ghost of a touch she had used earlier. Hancock nearly vocalized his appreciation, but remained silent. The forceps dipped inside of his skin, touching torn and bleeding muscle. Metal audible clinked against the chunk of lead and a sobering amount of pain shot through the length of his arm. The bullet was extracted with no trouble. She plopped the bloodied slug into her palm, holding it out to him.

“Way to go,” she said teasingly. “Wish I had a lollipop to give you.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Hancock jested.

When Nora offered to stitch up the wound Hancock turned her down. Despite the effervescent need he had for her to touch him in any capacity, she needed to save her supplies. There was no sense in her wasting them on him.

“Nah, Doll,” he said. “I’ll find me a puddle of radiation and I will be right as rain. Let’s take a look at you, huh?”

Nora sighed, and she turned her back to him. She removed her measly chest armor and then hoisted the back of her thread-bare shirt up and over her head. The hem of the shirt was hooked around her neck so her front remained perfectly covered with her modesty intact. Hancock was gifted with a nearly unobscured view of her back. It was beautifully smooth skin that would have otherwise been completely unmarred if it wasn’t for the colorful damage the pool cue had left behind. The bruising was raised and swollen, red and splotchy with a laceration that traveled beneath the bloodied strap of her once white brassiere.

“I’m going to unhook your bra,” he warned her.

“What, a girl can’t get a drink first?”

Hancock chuckled at the half-hearted joke, but he felt so damn breathless. He would finally get to touch her. He would get to tend to her injuries and help her heal. Nora was entrusting the task to him, and he’d be damned if he was going to mess it up. A smoothskin like her would need stitches for the mess that had been left behind. Hancock’s radiation mangled fingers brushed the outer edge of the angry bruise. Nora exhaled through clenched teeth. Nora was pained while Hancock tilted his head back, closing his eyes. He so desperately wanted to glue his body to hers. He wanted to hike up his shirt and pull her back against him so he could have the skin-to-skin contact that he had been hungering for.

With his body trembling, he went about cleaning the cut. Though it was only a couple inches in length, the location of the laceration would be uncomfortable; it stretched across the skin where the clasps of her bra rested. Hancock taped some gauze down, but even then, the material would probably chafe against the sutures. He watched as her back arched, as she found her bra straps and went to reconnect them. She released a loud hiss.

Hancock said nothing as she placed her supplies back in her pack. Her chest armor was pulled back into place and secured. The hunger left his body burning. He had been so close to her. Nora had touched him, and she had trusted him to touch her and he realized that was becoming a substantial piece of what he wanted. A mutual trust, a friendship created from the ground up. No ulterior motives, no exchange of chems or caps. The way he craved it was just sad.

The duo left the bus, and they continued to wander. They seemed to be meandering idly, and that was completely fine. There was companionable chatter as they walked. There was no awkwardness, no pregnant silences. Maybe this was what he needed, too. He needed companionship. That wasn’t to say that Fahrenheit had been a bad friend or bodyguard, but the woman could be painfully quiet. Nora talked, she sang with the radio. She was a tangible presence in his life, one that couldn’t be overlooked or ignored, or forgotten.

“You’ve never heard of Tarzan?”

“Is he Grognak’s cousin?”

“Oh, you poor man. How about Beauty and the Beast? That one is a classic.”

“… Is that first one about that chick that tried to fuck a deathclaw?”

“Whoa. Whoa! You’re kidding! You have to be kidding!”

When Nora’s Geiger counter began to click angrily, she stopped and looked over her shoulder at him, flashing a pleased smile. The puddle of radiation that she had found was a literal puddle of water in a flooded out neighborhood. Old barrels of waste were overturned, creating the perfect place for someone like him to heal up. Hancock dressed down, then knelt beside the water, cupping handfuls of liquid and palming it over the open wound in his shoulder. Nora retreated far enough that her Geiger counter wasn’t going haywire, waiting patiently.

“Oh, sister, I wish I was kidding.”

Hancock regaled a stunned Nora with his story, and she laughed and made appropriate grossed out noises. At one point, he found himself just watching her, no longer treating his gunshot wound. She was in the throes of laughter, her hand cupping over her mouth to stifle herself, eyes screwed shut. The woman was too damn beautiful, too genuine, too kind…

He stood, and returned to her side, shrugging his coat back onto his shoulders. As he neared, she dropped her hand. She was grinning ear-to-ear. She met his eyes and said, “I’m glad you came along, Hancock. It gets lonely out here. Your company makes all of this a whole lot easier.”

Her words touched his heart. There had to be others who were willing to travel with her, better ones, and she had picked him. He offered a lazy smile, pulling his cigarettes from his coat’s breast pocket. “Well, what can I say? I aim to please.”

“I mean it!”

“So do I.”

//

The next time they touched was five weeks later. Five weeks of sleepless nights, of watching her from the other side of the fire as she sang along with the radio. He was feeling irritable, and he was doing his damnedest to keep himself in check. There were times where he found himself reaching out to her as her back was turned, reaching out to pull her back towards him. He didn’t like it when she turned her back to him, didn’t like it when she wandered off alone – and he had damn near gone completely feral when she left him in Sanctuary for all of an hour one sunny afternoon.

It was another fire fight that had brought them together. It was another interaction created by circumstance, and not by a sudden yearning to reach out and take his hand. They were battling Super Mutants. Though the duo got the drop on them, when push came to shove, those assholes had suicidal crazies on their side and there wasn’t much that could be done about that. A rhythmic beeping had just caught his attention when, not a second later, Nora grabbed his hand in an iron grip and started running.

The contact was unsolicited and surprising. He didn’t expect her to grab his hand, to practically drag him behind her as she ran for cover. He was touched that she thought of him, that his safety mattered to her. His hand clasped hers just as tightly and he never wanted to let go. The brief windsprint ended with both of them diving behind an old vehicle. They tumbled against one another. Hancock ended up on his back, with Nora stretched across his body. No, he wouldn't let her take the brunt of whatever was coming. Hancock rolled, tucking her beneath him, an arm curling around the top of her head while the other wrapped around his own.

There was an explosion of sound, and then an eruption of force that shook the vehicle that they had hidden behind. His ears were ringing. There was a rush of heat as debris rained down around them, clanking into the car, slapping into the ground, peppering against his back. The Suicider exploded frighteningly close, but they were fine. They made it out unscathed. It was only after the chaos that Hancock noticed that Nora’s arms were wrapped around him. She was holding him close, gripping the back of his coat. The realization made him shudder. Hancock pressed his face into her neck. She smelled like sweat and something floral – He wondered if she had that perfume bottle hidden in her pack somewhere. Hancock inhaled deeply, and allowed himself to enjoy Nora’s embrace. He could stay there, in that moment, forever.

“Hancock?”

His body shook, his eyes squeezed closed. No. No, he needed this. Please, just a minute longer. God, please. Hancock grit his teeth, and he slowly sat up. It hurt him. It hurt him so badly. The hunger was suddenly so much worse. He had gotten a taste of what he had wanted, and then it was ripped from him. He felt needy, and weak, and his heart felt heavy – so fucking heavy. There was a tightness in the back of his throat he forced himself to swallow it down. No, he was more than used to the hunger by now. He wouldn’t let it ruin him.

Hancock sat and pretended to survey the damage around them, “Shit. That was real fuckin’ close.”

Nora sat up slowly. “You’re not hurt?”

“Not a scratch, doll,” he started patting his pockets in search of his cigarettes. He craved something stronger; something that would fog his mind and maybe distract that persistent need he felt in his chest. There wasn't a drug strong enough to stifle the hunger. It was always there. A cigarette was pulled from the pack in his breast pocket, followed by the lighter. He didn’t light it up immediately, he let his hands have something to touch and hold for all of a few seconds. He ran the pad of his thumb over the lighter’s chrome casing, rubbed the cigarette between his fingers.

“Are you sure?”

He stalled for a moment, finally lighting the cigarette. He filled his lungs to capacity. “Yeah. Just a little bit of a rush is all. That may have been better than the chems.” He pushed the smoke through his nose, letting it obscure his view as it surrounded him like a cloak he could hide in.

That night, as they sat together by the fire, there was a tense silence between them. The sleeping bags had already been rolled out on opposite sides of the fire, just like every other night. They already ate dinner and they talked, and conversed, just like every other night. But the silence that followed it all was tense, and uncomfortable. Hancock had the added bonus of absolutely dreading the idea of crawling into his sleeping bag and trying to sleep. He wanted her to talk to him about her life, about her favorite colors – she could have screamed at him and it would have been a far cry better than the silence. He hated himself when he realized that she could have punched him square in the face and he would have welcomed the contact, and he would ask her to punch him again. Anything from her, the good or the bad would have been entirely welcome. So long as it came from her. Only her.

“So…” His eyes snapped towards her, eager to hear her speak. “Are we going to talk about today?”

“Whaddaya on about?”

He started to search for his cigarettes. The coat had too many fucking pockets.

“Today? The Super Mutants?”

“That was nothin’,” he said a bit gruffly. “It was a little bit of a rush, had a flashback sort of. Just a combination of bad memories and adrenaline.”

��Hancock,” she said his name so softly he nearly shivered. “Please don’t lie to me. Let me help.”

The ghoul grit his teeth, finally snatching the cigarettes from his right-hand pocket. He lit up, and took a deep drag.

“Don’t lie to you? Let you help? What about you, sister? What the fuck are we doing out here? You said you were looking for someone, and you never said who. And we haven’t been looking for anyone!” Another drag. The smoke filled his lungs, it seeped from the cavity that had been his nose, it leaked from his mouth as he continued his tirade. “We’ve been wandering, doing absolutely fucking nothing. How about you let me help!”

He was sorry. He was already so sorry. He wanted to take it all back, but something in him had finally snapped. He needed to run her off, and then throw himself headfirst into the chems, and alcohol. He wanted her erased from his memory, completely obliterated. But he also desperately wanted her acceptance. This was a mess - he was a God damn fucking mess.

“Don’t change the subject,” she said, her voice still soft and gentle. “If you will tell me what’s wrong, then we can—“

“We can what, Nora? There isn’t anything - !” He shot to his feet. Another drag, and the cigarette was done. He tossed the butt into the fire, while he was already reaching to start up another. “How about you tell me what’s wrong, huh?”

Nora stood as well, so he was no longer standing over her and yelling. She said nothing, but let him yell at her. He hated himself, what was he doing? He was killing what happiness he had, he was destroying it. No. Please, stop. Please just fucking stop.

“You can’t even help yourself. You’re out here stalling. What are you afraid of, huh? This has been a complete waste of time!”

Time. Like he cared about time. Everything was After. After Nora. He didn’t want to know what it would be like After Nora. But it was coming, speeding at him like a bullet. Nora suddenly raised her hand, and he anticipated a slap to the face – he wanted to be slapped in the face. Anything. Give me anything before this is all over. Give me something to hang onto for when After Nora begins.

The hand that palmed his cheek was soft, the contact gentle. Her thumb stroked his ruined cheek, her fingers sliding up the hard slope of his mottled jaw. He didn’t manage to restrain the weak moan that tore through his throat. His legs buckled, unable to hold his weight. Nora followed him, her free hand reaching to give the other side of his face the same attention. She sat on her knees across from him, holding his face in her hands.

Finally.

“Oh, Hancock…” Her voice was a whisper that soothed his frantic mind. His hands fell on top of hers, keeping her palms flush to his face. His throat felt tight and constricted. When he opened his eyes his vision was blurry. Her figure wavered and danced in the flickering fire light, he could barely see her face. When her hands suddenly slipped out from under his, he felt his heart – his entire being – shatter into a million pieces. Of course she would leave. After what he said to her, after how he had been acting, she had every right to leave him. His hands slipped over his cheeks and covered his eyes and he sank. He sank further into himself, slouching and shrinking until he was doubled over, his forehead nearly touching the ground. If this was what was left of his life, then he didn’t want to exist. Not if it hurt so much. Existing without her wasn't an existence at all. The hunger roiled. The void in him grew impossibly wide. It made his stomach twist and his eyes burn.

“’m sorry,” the voice came out as a feeble whisper. He didn’t want After Nora. “’m so sorry.”

“Hancock, hey…” His body jerked, his head lifted. His heart throbbed in his chest so quickly that his breathing came in hard, uneven gasps. She was crouched beside him, her hand extended to him. “Hey, come on. Let’s get you in bed.”

He didn’t want to go to bed, it was too far away, he wouldn’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep. He took her hand anyway, relishing the contact. When Nora shifted to the side there was a spark of hope that warmed his entire body. He looked towards her, then back at the sleeping bags. While he was busy falling apart, Nora had taken the two sleeping bags and zipped them together. The end result was an arrangement that was more than capable of fitting two people. Both of their pillows were there at the head of the sleeping bag. A numbness consumed him, muting the hunger as she went about helping him out of his coat, as she removed the tricorn hat. She even pulled off his boots, the old socks he wore, the sash around his waist. With all of the patience in the world, she helped him into the joined sleeping bags.

Hancock followed her every move. Nora crawled over his body to the other side of the sleeping bag and tugged at her own boots, her socks. She removed her pieces of armor, and then she slipped in beside him. There was a brief moment where Hancock was afraid to move. He didn’t want to scare her off. When he didn’t move, she did. Nora scooted in close to him, her hand finding his under the covers.

“Nora, can… can we…?”

“Whatever you need.”

Hancock turned to his side, facing her. He rasped, “Can I hold you?”

The smile she gave him was small, but sweet. Nora rolled to her side, facing away from him, and then he tugged her flush to his body. Hancock encompassed her body, touching every bit of her that he could. His feet hooked beneath hers, legs and thighs touching, his hips against hers, his stomach and chest at her back, and her head tucked beneath his chin. Nora tugged at his arm, pulling the limb up against her chest. His forearm was between her breasts, his palm cupping her neck. He could feel her pulse. It was rhythmic, steady, and real. Her arm curled around his, her hand at his wrist.

As his body went boneless and relaxed, fragments of lucid thoughts managed to fight to the surface. Outside of his embarrassing state of need he was finally able to think. She had been so gentle with him, even after he yelled at her. He had done nothing to deserve her kindness, but he would willingly accept every bit of it. Hancock pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, letting his eyes close.

“Thank you, Nora.” His voice was still too weak, all ragged and airy.

Her thumb brushed against the inside of his wrist, and she said something that he didn’t quite catch because he was already drifting off to sleep.

For the first time in a long time, Hancock woke up and felt completely refreshed. There had been no point in the middle of the night where he woke up in a fit of restlessness. He didn’t wake up to gaze at her through the dwindling embers of their camp fire. When he woke up, Nora was still secure in his arms. At some point in the middle of the night she had rolled over to face him. Their legs were tangled together, one of his feet pressed up against a naked expanse of leg. The plunging neck of John Hancock’s shirt allowed Nora’s forehead to press into the skin of his chest, her hands curled beneath her chin.

Hancock watched her for a few moments, memorizing the details of her face. He followed the trail of freckles at her nose, the small beauty mark under her eye. His fingers tangled into the ends of her hair and he closed his eyes. He could feel her pulse, could feel her breath. The hunger was silent, the yearning need was blissfully absent and it was all because of the woman he had wrapped so securely in his arms. He wanted to kiss her eyelids, her cheeks, he wanted to kiss her until she woke up. He didn’t want to get out of the sleeping bag, he wanted to stay there for the rest of his life just holding her.

“Nora,” he whispered, dipping his head to whisper into her ear. “Nora?”

Her eyes fluttered slowly. Her body stretched and arched, and then she snuggled in closer, sighing quietly.

“Mm?”

“I would like to tell you something,” he said, his voice still soft. He suddenly felt quite foolish. He could have waited until she actually woke up, but then again he couldn’t. The need to apologize was much too strong for him to sit idly and wait. The moment would pass, or he’d get cowardly and opt to remain silent. This needed to be said at that very moment.

“Mmhmm?”

He swallowed hard, “Did you sleep alright?” Already backing out. Coward.

She hummed a sleepy response, “I forgot how nice it was to be held.” Her words were slurred with sleep, but touched him all the same. He pulled her closer, if that was at all possible, and gathered his courage.

“I wanted to say thank you for last night. You could have left me here, and you didn’t. I will never be able to thank you enough. What you’ve done for me… I won’t forget it. Not ever.” He dragged his fingers through her hair, staring off into nothing as he spoke. “And… I didn’t mean what I said. If you’re not ready to tell me who you’re looking for then that’s fine. I will be here when you are. And it hasn’t been a waste of time, none of it has.”

“It has been, though.”

He looked down. She finally had her eyes open, and she was staring at his chest.

“This entire time, I have been doing nothing but wasting time. I’m sorry, but I’m… I’m just so scared.”

The woman who had exuded so much strength and patience the night before was curled into him, looking weak and fragile. He knew that she wasn’t quite ready to tell him who she was looking for, and that was fine. He would show her the same patience that she had shown him. He would wait until she was ready, and then he would do whatever he could to help her.

“Whatever you need, Nora,” he said. “Whatever you need from me, and I will give it to you – whenever you need it.”

She finally met his eyes, and she smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

The two remained snuggled close to one another for a few hours. Hancock drifted in and out of sleep, and every time he woke up Nora was there. If she wasn’t curled against his body, she was dragging her toes up along his leg as she played with her Pip-Boy. When they broke camp and actually began their day Hancock stayed close to her side, occasionally snatching her hand in his. She never shied away, always giving his fingers a welcoming squeeze. Despite what she said – despite what he said – their time together hadn’t been a waste. Not at all.

//

Time had returned to Hancock’s life. There would always be the After; After Diamond City, and After Ghoulism. There was also After Nora, but it no longer signified an ending. After Nora, he started feeling hole again. He no longer just existed, he really lived. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he could breathe easier. The hunger still existed, but it had mutated into something else entirely. He hungered for her laughter, and her happiness. He yearned to ensure her safety, and he wanted to provide for her. And he did, he did his absolute best to provide for her, he strived to make her happy.

Eventually, right around the three-month mark, Nora told him who they were looking for. She showed him the wedding rings that she had threaded together with an old golden bracelet she’d found. Hancock had been understanding – of course a woman like her would have been married, of course she would have had a baby. Nora would have made a wonderful mother, all patience and understanding and gentleness. She would have been the absolute best. He promised her that he would be with her until the end. They would find her kid, and they would most definitely find the man who had caused his Nora so much pain. She deserved happiness, she deserved all of the happiness in the world.

Month five brought the first of many, many, kisses. It had been a rare night where the stars peaked through the haze of radiation laden clouds. Nora had been downright exuberant as she stretched out on their sleeping bag and pointed out constellations. Half of the time, he didn’t quite see the formations she was identifying but that didn’t stop him from enjoying the warmth that radiated off of her. Throughout the duration of their star gazing she had her head rested against his chest, content and comfortable. His hand was in her hair, idly tugging at little tangles until he could card his hand through it without trouble. When she was finished she rolled to face him, all smiles and without warning she kissed him.

It was timid and it was hopeful, and the very second she tried to pull away Hancock had his hand on the back of her head, pulling her back towards him. He had waited until she was ready. He had waited so patiently. It would have been a great life just being her friend, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want more. Hancock took great care to never initiate anything beyond playful flirting, deciding that if they were to be something more it would be on her terms. But Nora kissed him like he would shatter, and he was having none of that. By the end of the night she was so thoroughly kissed she was in a daze, a lopsided smile on her kiss-bruised lips. He hungered for more, but he would wait. He would wait for her forever.

Hancock’s forever came in their sixth month together. It was the first bed that they had been in for a rather long time – at least one that was surrounded by four actual walls. They were back in Goodneighbor. He had wined and dined Nora at the Third Rail where Magnolia’s crooning voice coaxed them into a slow, lazy dance. After, they went to his room in the State House. It started with snuggling and quiet words, followed by some wrestling. He would pull her flush to his body and he would tickle her mercilessly as she shrieked and wiggled and laughed. She would push and bite at him in a futile effort to stop him.

Their playful wrestling match ended with Nora on top of him, straddling him and completely flushed and breathless. Hancock’s hands slid up her thighs, gripped her waist. She leaned down and kissed him, shifting against him so slowly it was near painful. The playfulness became super-heated and needy. Hancock was on top, kissing Nora senseless when he sank into her. She rose to meet him, holding him close with her legs around his hips. She whined his name as she came undone. Hancock could have died happy. If God struck him down in that very moment, that would have been just fine. Nora was gorgeous, and absolutely breathtaking - and she was all his.

It was month nine when he told her that he loved her. She had been particularly withdrawn after the events at the Memory Den. They were shacked up in one of their favorite haunts. Nora had been a bit short tempered, and Hancock had been irritable. They had been bickering, fighting over something small and meaningless when out of nowhere they were yelling, screaming. They were at each other’s throat, not listening to one another, just desperately trying to be the loudest.

“Well if you’re so sick of it you can leave!” She suddenly shrieked. She shoved her palms into his chest, pushing him towards the door. “Get out of here!”

“Nora—“

“I said leave! Go!”

A roiling growl left him as he turned and stalked out the door. Though he knew better than slamming doors at any of their abodes, Hancock slammed the door for all he was worth. He got a whole yard away from the house before he stopped. A little yelling wasn’t going to end them. Their argument meant absolutely nothing, he was frustrated but he wasn’t going anywhere. He turned back, and simply stood beside the house, right next to the front door. Leaning against the metal wall, he lit up a cigarette. Hancock understood that Nora was dealing with a hunger that was unfamiliar to him, and she would deal with it in her own way. There was a lot on her plate, and even more on her mind, but she had been particularly quick to anger over the past week and something in him just snapped. Damn woman – she was why he would go feral. He had just taken a hard puff of the cigarette when the door shot open – it swung open hard enough that it bounced off his boot.

“Hancock! John!” Nora was yelling, running into the darkness. “John!” Her voice was cracking and desperate. She slowed, and he could see her shoulders shaking with the aid of the Pip-boy that was lit up on her arm. “I’m so sorry… ” It was a broken sound, soft and fragile.

Hancock threw the cigarette to the ground. He made his approach, nearly jogging to her side. “Nora…”

“John, John I am so sorry. I didn’t mean it, I…” she was in his arms, gripping his coat in a flash. Her small body shook as she fought to keep her tears at bay, but it was no use. “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t go.”

John chuckled, slipping his arms tightly around her. Aside from the night that they first slept together, this had been their first real fight. A screaming match in the wee hours in the morning. A screaming match about nothing. Literally nothing. He kissed the top of her head.

“Wh-why are you laughing!?” She managed to sound fierce despite her tears, and he laughed a little harder. “Stop laughing.”

“I love you, you crazy woman,” he tilted her head back so he could kiss her. She tried to push him away, those full lips turned into a hard frown.

“You… You’re telling me that you love me now? Right now? After I—”

Another kiss, “Yeah,” and another. “I guess I am.”

“But—“

He held her tear streaked face in his hands, and kissed her again, nibbling at her lip.

“But, I just—“

“Nora, do you love me or not?”

“Of course I love you. But dammit-”

Hancock scooped Nora up into his arms. She let out a squeak of surprise as he turned and walked her back towards the house. He was careful going through the doorway, and then the hall. After he placed her on their bed, her head resting among the mess of overstuffed pillows, he kissed her again.

“So,” he drawled. “Let’s try this again.” A brief pause. “Nora, I love you.”

The softness that he was so used to seeing returned to Nora’s eyes. Her arms slipped around his neck and she finally smiled. This was After Nora. This was happiness. This was living life. It was the ups and the downs and the beautiful in between. It was ridiculous arguments in the middle of the night, and it was making love immediately after.

“I love you too, John.”

#fallout 4 #fallout #ghoul x human #Hancock x Female SoSu #Hancock x Female Soul Survivor #touch starved #kink meme prompt #fanfiction #ancient fanfiction I’m bringing over for funsies #fallout fanfiction #fallout ghoul

[bored-storyteller]

Warning: gore, cannibalism (between ghouls)

Author's note: I realized that I was much braver with Uta at first. Let's try again.

Tokyo Ghoul, Uta x Human!Reader

What is mine

There is a smell of blood in the putrid air. Your blood.

The ghoul holds you in its arms like a sacrificial victim.

“That's mine.”

“I didn't know, sorry...I'm not the type to go around stealing other people's food, believe me.”

Looks nice, him. He has dyed blond and blue hair that escapes from his wildly done bun. His locks fall on a face that would look like an angel's, if it weren't for those veins that flow like streams from the black and red eyes of a demon. He doesn't have to shine with intelligence since he doesn't wear the mask, or maybe he trusts too much in his abilities, for someone so average.

Uta picks you up when the younger ghoul hands you over to him: you are cold, you are shaking, you are crying. He doesn't know if you're paralyzed with fear or blood loss from that wound on your shoulder.

Your blood tickles his sense of smell, and his palate. Your fingers grip his sweater, and he holds you just tighter. He doesn’t blame the other one, your perfume is intoxicating now that your flesh is uncovered.

He mustn't be happy to give up on you, he wouldn't if Uta weren't so much stronger than him.

The Mask Maker gently puts you on the ground, he feels your fear: you are afraid of everything now, even him.

That person tried to take you away from him, to keep you for himself. And that person expects him to get you now.

“Luckily I'm hungry.” He says as he looks into your eyes. If you can be more afraid than you already are, he doesn't know. But it doesn’t matter.

The ghoul with the beautiful face was going to say something, but it's hard to talk when your vocal cords are torn.

The carotid artery hangs from the bite mark like a slack string, part of it between Uta's teeth; a flick of the tongue and it disappears between the lips.

The eyes of the predator victim are wide open, incredulous. Gorgeous, perhaps.

How long can it take for that slit throat to heal? A lot of time. Too little.

Uta bites again, blood gushes, there is a muffled scream.

The taste of that meat has nothing to do with the smell you give off, but Uta is hungry.

He's hungry, and your broken skin makes him lose control.

Someone must be eaten by him.

That ghoul wanted to eat you.

He wanted him to eat you himself.

He was about to lose you, in a way or another.

His hands dig into his chest, the intricate black patterns on his fingers covered in ferrous red.

“What a greedy you are... you already ate, huh?”

The stomach of the other demon is full, Uta wonders who is in there: “It was he a boy? A girl? Young or old? An unfortunate student? All of them?”

Uta smiles. That won't be of any use now that it's out of the body, it's not right to waste it.

He won't even need his intestines, right?

And the heart? What does the unfortunate one do with his heart?

The bones crunch as they crack and open, like the crust that covers the filling.

Maybe it still moves, or maybe it doesn't, but it doesn't matter.

The teeth sink in like in an apple, they tear it, now there is no more life. But is the soul still there?

Uta is full, but still gobbles it up. He devours that body that is not meant to be eaten, that modifies his, that drives his mind crazy. Assuming Uta can go any crazier than that.

No, he can't freak out, there's you. But Uta is crazy to love you.

“Uta!”

Your voice sounds desperate. How long have you been calling him?

He looks at you with his delicate face smeared, the top of the other ghoul's skull hanging from his fingers gripping his blond hair.

Now he comes to you, he promises you. He just has to make sure you don't get eaten too.

“Is there still a soul in these eyes?” He asks the half head as he brings it up to his gaze. He can't even tell where the jaw and tongue have gone, but that's not a problem.

Those eyes that stare at him glassy and half open Uta hates them. He doesn't even bother to remove them from the eye socket; he rips the first one off with just his teeth and swallows it whole, then does the same with the other one. It's not difficult, and if inside there is the core of that stupid, then he lets it rot in his depths together with the remains of his body.

Now there is no more danger for you.

The head rolls away, no one will wonder what happened to someone like him. It's a ghoul who disappeared in the fourth ward, at the end.

Uta calls your name as he leans in front of you, sweet and gentle as ever.

He watches your hand press on the wound on your shoulder: "Let me see." He asks you softly.

You obey, but you still smell of terror. You've never seen him eat like this, not someone like him.

The fingers that used to butcher now fearfully touch the edge of your wound.

"It's not serious... you’ll be ok, everything is fine." He murmurs reassuringly, barely licking the blood that drips from you. It will be enough to remove that hateful taste from his tongue.

His hands take your face, holding it like never before. His thumbs wipe away your tears and massage your cheekbones as he contemplates you. The blood is now on you too.

He looks into your glassy eyes and something unknown stirs inside him.

He is losing you. It's the only thing he can think of. You seem so distant now.

How he can stop you, unarmed as he is. Not even the idea of consuming your body to hold you within him brings relief, and he doesn't know why you upset his functioning.

But Uta is bizarre, there is no situation in which he follows a rule of his.

You are so different from Renji to him, your delicacy makes you complicated and elusive. Your delicacy prevents him from breaking you.

He can't afford to lose you too, he understood it when his chest tightened on smelling your blood. You and Renji are the only things that still make him walk in this world, which still allow him to experience lively emotions. It's not the RC cells that risk driving him crazy, it's you.

“I love you.”

His whisper is so sweet you might think he's about to cry.

It seems strange to say, those are not words that are well suited to a language like his, especially in a world where secrets must be kept between the ribs. But that's the only thing worth letting you know right now. A ghoul love, a clown love, but it's love.

And he almost gasps when he sees your eyes light up with life again, as you look at him as if you were seeing him for the first time.

He doesn't expect to find your arms around him, nor to meet your lips.

You kiss him like it's not okay to do, like he hasn't just eaten someone. You don't seem to mind the blood smearing your face, the metallic taste on his tongue. You seem to ask him to swallow you, but there is no room for you.

The lovers: two crazy people kissing among the remains of a corpse.

It's a good stage for you two.

“He wanted to put you in his place…” He whispers as he holds you like he never held you.

“You wished too?”

Don't you already have your answer?

Your eyes travel from him to over his shoulder, but his hand covers them. He stares at the grimy tattoos on his knuckles for a split second, wondering how they got there.

It's to protect you, perhaps, or to protect him who is wrong and rotten even among monsters.

“Forget it.” He tells you.

You shake your head. He's covered you so much in ghoul blood that at first glance you wouldn't be able to tell who the perpetrator is between you two, but all those red marks on you are testament to his touch.

“I don’t want to do it. I don't want to lose anything about you” You tell him, and there's an adoration in your voice that he always pretended not to hear.

“No?”

“No. Will you take me home?”

He gives you a quick nod, and just watches you as you climb onto his back. Your grip around his neck is reassuring.

“You'll make it?” You ask, as if he's never brought you like this. He scoffs at you as he settles your legs on his hips.

He's so grateful to feel your weight on his back and not in his stomach.

“I feel heavy actually, you say it's your fault?”

You huff, and your heel taps playfully on his thigh. He pinches you lightly, affectionately.

You are alive, he wants you to be alive. There is no one in the world who could look at his melancholy and smile as you do, marveling at a monstrous beauty.

What criminals you and he are, walking off into the night, away from the eyes of the world, leaving behind the trail of sinful blood.

#tokyo ghoul #uta tokyo ghoul #uta x reader #uta x you #tokyo ghoul uta #uta x human reader #human reader #reader insert #cw gore #cw: gore #dead dove do not eat

[apraxvalith]

Excited to announce my commissions are open! Limited slots, 18+ only. Offering full color/monochrome NSFW illustrations and sketchpages. All relevant info is on my Carrd!

My pricing and tiers are located on my Commission Rates + Info page, along with my email, where you can contact me for commission inquiries!

If you're curious what I will l and won't draw, take a peek at my Terms and Conditions page - and feel free to ask via email if you're not sure! 💗

#valith's commissions #valith's art #slasher #mask kink #monster x human #terato #fallout ghoul #jason voorhees #the blight #talbot grimes #black mask #roman sionis #fo4 nick valentine #charon fo3 #nick valentine #nsft

[bublipuppy]

My fanart of young Uta🔥 young Uta hits differently 😳🔥

#anime and manga #anime art #anime artist #tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul re #tokyo ghoul uta #uta tokyo ghoul #uta x human reader #tg uta #uta tg #tokio ghoul #utaren #Uta themask maker #ghoul boys #young Uta #uta x reader #uta x you #uta x yomo #anime boy #anime style #anime #anime fanart #fanart #sexy anime boy

[kabukiaku]

the goobers just smacked lips!!! will they hit it off? or it will be just a casual fling?

#my art #digital art #copia #cardinal copia #dew #dewdrop ghoul #copia x dew #copia/dewdrop #these two are so funny to me. like i get completely diff vibes from them versus terzomega #you have copia who's awkward af but he means well. (sometimes.) #and then dewdrop whos the definition of lil shit. up to no good. #will hook up with anyone if he wants to #copia wanted to know how kissing a ghoul would be like #dew wanted to see how human lips tasted. he was disappointed.

[monstersmashorpass]

SMASH OR PASS: Beast, Beauty and the Beast

Note from Mod Ghoul: Y'all this dude's an OG monsterfucker monster. A gateway to this for soooooo many. You better be voting to smash/date/cuddle/etc. House of Michael Mouse did my man dirty by turning him back okay-

Please reblog for greater sample size, as per usual!

#smash or pass poll blog #monster smash or pass #monster fucker #monster lover #monster romance #monster x human #tumblr polls #poll blog #poll #exophilia #beast #beauty and the beast #disney's beauty and the beast #BATB #the polls #ghoul's propaganda #propaganda added

[ghoul-foolery]

Dirty Windows | 1 | Female!SoSu x Hancock

A Soulmate AU

-

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.

\\

Notes: I was writing a Ghoulcy Soulmate AU, and then I was suddenly drawn to this after years of not touching it. Originally posted on Ao3

\\

Hancock took a steady pull of his cigarette. Perched on the rotting sill of his open office window located in Boston’s State House, he relaxed into the gentle chill of an early spring evening. Goodneighbor had gone quiet some hours ago. He would be concerned if the town’s uncharacteristic early evening if it wasn’t so pleasant. Goodneighbor going to sleep was a rarity, and he chose to enjoy the downtime with several cigarettes and a couple canisters of jet as he attempted to master the art of blowing smoke rings. He would ultimately discover, after smoking through nearly entire pack of cigarettes, that it was a feat that required an embouchure that he didn’t have the lips for — or he was too fucking stoned to do it right.

Flicking the still smoldering butt out into the night, Hancock returned to one of the two limp couches in his designated office space, and flopped down. He reached for the mentats tin on the rubbish-covered coffee table. Why not end the night on a high note?

Hancock snickered to himself, amused at his own drug addled thoughts, “On’a high note.” Because he was high. Ha-ha.

He fumbled with the old tin, eventually managing to lodge the blunt end of his thumbnail into the lip of the lid. The little tin box opened with a satisfying pop. He placed one of the white tablets on his tongue. It immediately began to dissolve, coating his tongue in chalky grit. When he eventually swallowed he was already feeling pleasantly fuzzy. The tingling was in his toes, his fingers. It danced along his teeth and the grooves of his brain. The ghoul sank further into the couch, glossy black eyes staring up at the ceiling, his mouth ajar as his thoughts stumbled from one to the next. He thought about starting a community garden; it would be tucked away from the main thoroughfare but still sizable. He remembered and clung to an old poem from an old book he had stashed away in his desk. He pondered the essence of the whole fucking cosmos. Or perhaps not, actually. He was blitzed and keeping his thoughts in line was becoming more, and more difficult.

When he started to hear whispers he thought nothing of it. On a livelier night he would have assumed that it was regular ol’ street noise. In the uncharacteristic silence of the night he figured it was a hallucination. This wasn’t his first rodeo. He’d experienced visual and auditory hallucinations before. They weren’t typically triggered by mere mentats, mind you, but it had been a long and drug-fueled day and he was content with riding the wave until he crashed.

The whispers belonged to one person. It started as a weak, warbling, like he was hearing someone talk from behind a closed door. Then the voice abruptly grew in volume; suddenly shrill, like he was standing next to a woman as she screamed for all she was worth. 

“Nate! No, Nate, please! Honey, please wake up!”

The ghoul’s brows furrowed. The voice was frantic, desperate as she cried for help.  Phantom hands — smooth, delicate, small — swam in and out of his vision. They moved in front of him as if they were his. The vision ebbed when he tried to divert his attention; it went beyond superimposition when he focused on it. Hancock could feel the sensation of the blood stained Vault-tec jumpsuit chafe under his palms as smooth hands gripped and pulled at the material. He was peering up at the face of a dead man, his body heavy and limp, slumped in some sort of pod that reminded him of Goodneighor’s Memory Den. 

“Nate! Please — please don’t do this! NATHAN!”

He’s dead. He’s gone. Fuck, if his heart wasn’t breaking. It was shattering into millions of pieces, leaving him more numb and empty than he had ever felt. And goddamn, it felt fucking real. As real as the jumpsuit under his palms, as real as the chill that had sank into his bones, as real as the couch he still lounged in. 

A sudden hand on his arm made his body jolt. The vision of the dead man was abruptly ripped from him and in its place was Fahrenheit’s stern face. She was blurry, swimming in a lake of wavering tears. He was crying. Fuck, he was sobbing. His shoulders heaved, his lungs hungrily taking in air in short, frantic gulps. For all of a moment, Fahrenheit looked on the brink of amusement. Her right eyebrow was curled upward and the corner of her mouth was lifting into a smirk as she readied to deliver some snide remark, but then her expression changed. The almost-smirk vanished, the haughty brow lowered, and then a look of awe lit her features. Hancock sniffled, the tears that had been cascading down his ruined cheeks came to an abrupt stop as if the well had run dry. The ache in his chest was gone. So was the dead man in the pod. So was the frantic, begging, voice. He blinked. He took one more big gasp for air to steady himself but it was shaky. He was shaking.

“S-sorry,” he rasped. His voice was weak and frail at the edges. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. That was, uh— that—”

Though he wanted to blame it all on the chems, he knew that that wasn’t the case. That was something else. Something he never thought he would experience in all of his lifetime. For some goddamn reason, the Powers That Be decided to gift Hancock with a soulmate. He was shocked. He was elated.

Fahrenheit’s voice was barely audible when she said, “You found them.”

“It’s a woman.”

“What does she look like? What’s her name? Where is she?” 

Soulmates were a rarity these days, because that’s what happened when nuclear bombs fell and annihilated the majority of the world's population. Fahrenheit was still missing her signature scowl. It made him uncomfortable. Hancock shook his head, reaching for his smokes that were in the breast pocket of his coat — anything to stop the shaking of his hands.

“I dunno. It’s exactly how they say. Y'see through their eyes. All I saw was her hands. And I heard her voice.”

“Whose Nate?” When Hancock glanced at Fahrenheit she added, “You were saying his name.”

There was no way for Hancock to know who Nate was, and yet he did. Hancock knew exactly who Nate was. Nate was his soulmate’s dead husband. Hancock swore, chucking the pack of cigarettes to the floor in a fit of irritation. So much for that high he had been riding. Coming out of the vision, he felt debilitatingly sober. Leave it to the universe to give him one of the best gifts anyone could ever receive, and then somehow make it completely awful.

Fuck you, too, universe. Fuck. You. Too.

#Fallout #Fallout 4 #Female Sole Survivor x Hancock #Female!SoSu x Hancock #Human x Ghoul #Soulmate AU #Fallout Fanifction #Fanfiction #Ao3 Fanfic #Angst #Romance #Soulmates #Dirty Windows #devilry-revelry sideblog #Hancock #Fallout Hancock