#yeppie!

"Is this a joke?" you mutter in disbelief, almost chuckling to yourself. In your hands is a crudely written note on an old Gwinnett Restaurant flyer; 

“We have taken Mayor Hancock,

do nothing, see what happens.”

"How the fuck does anyone kidnap Hancock? Where the hell were you?" you scowl at the neighborhood watch, who are now huddled around you on the mayor’s couch. One of the ghouls scoffs at you, shrugs, and a small grin forms on his scarred face.

John was supposed to meet you here at the Old State House, it was Valentines Day after all, and you'd hoped to have at least one night off after working so tirelessly as the Minutemen General. But now, the one person you were even remotely excited to see has just been... Kidnapped? Hancock never pegged you for a ghoul to be taken so easily, but here you are, and here he wasn't.

The ransom letter was placed on a dress, freshly dyed your favorite hue, and carefully folded on his coffee table. You thought it was odd that the so-called kidnappers would be so occupied with providing a dress, let alone one that was in such pristine condition. But alas, you find yourself with no other choice but to save your damsel in distress.

You’re crouched behind a blue metal container, flipped on its side. The dress’s slit crawls up your leg, much to your annoyance. Hancock’s blade, strapped to your thigh, pinches your skin lightly as the garter pulls tight. You hold your pistol close.

The restaurant looks cleaner than it used to on the outside. Ember lights emanate from the brick glass windows, warm and dancing. Perhaps the raiders have taken a hold of this area soon after you cleared out those mutants, though you don’t hear much of the usual chatter. 

You sneak in closer, up the concrete steps, pressing your back against the wooden double doors. The surface is rough, the walnut has seen much radiation in its days, and you worry the splinters would snag on the delicate fabric draped on you. 

Pressing your ear against it, you hear footsteps, clinking of glass, silverware, and hushed chatter. You couldn’t quite make it out the voices, but the idea of Hancock in danger really dawns on you. For a moment, you’d genuinely thought this was all a silly joke.

What would you do for him?

Or rather, what wouldn’t you?

The idea of why these raiders have asked you to come in a dress so scantily clad as this one sends shivers down your spine.

Suddenly, the brass door knobs turn, the doors creak awfully as the hinges cry out from being so rusted all these years. Instinctively pointing your gun right at the opening, you rest your index on the trigger.

You’re ready to pull.

“Easy, doll!” a familiar chuckle rings through your ears, filling your body with both relief and seething annoyance. You drop the gun to your side as Hancock pulls you close by your waist.

His warm breath embraces the side of your neck as he whispers into your ear, “what’s got you all riled up, love? I haven’t even started with ‘ya” you feel his calloused hands grip the fabric on the small of your back.

His hand trails down to your bottom as he caresses your figure, before pulling away to take a good look at you. A soft, earnest smile creeps up on his face. His head falls to his side, “Well, look at you… that’s a view a guy could get used to”

You push John away, “What the hell!? You got me worried sick!”.

Preferring not to feed this ghoul’s justified ego, you hate to show him how strongly you feel; but the thought of losing him all of the sudden brings an aching to your stomach that you can’t quite point at, perhaps like butterflies burning up.

His smile turns to an adorable frown, dark doe eyes staring deep into yours, with gentle hands reaching up the sides of your arms “I ain’t proud of having to put you through that, but you wouldn’t fault a man for try’na treat his woman for a night would ‘ya?” with that, your cheek is met with a sweetly rough peck.

“Now! let's not waste anymore time, ‘lest you keep this handsome ransom waiting” John says with a sly wink.

Down the wooden steps to the left, Hancock walks you with his arm around your waist. In the middle of the main floor is a rectangular wooden table, adorned with a red tablecloth lined with white lace. A three-armed brass-plated candle holds three lit flames, and a handful of gourd blossoms in a ceramic vase. There’s wine, two bottles in fact, and plates with full meals, plus a variety of chems on the side. 

The broken railings, holes in the walls and floors, have all been patched up as if they were never even there. Even the tattered red booths have been dusted off. The Gwinnett is as pre-war as the nuclear wasteland could ever offer.

You’re not one to fall apart so easy, but ‘surprise’ just doesn’t cut it. Everything turns to a beautiful hazy blur of lights and warmth, as tears well up in your eyes. Noticing your reaction, Hancock quickly caresses your cheek, wiping away your tears with a clean handkerchief; “You alright, sister?” with worry in his coarse voice.

“This is insane, John” you manage through sniffles, “nothin’ too crazy for the person I love” he responds with no hesitation.

Somedays, you wonder where Hancock gets all this charisma that he’s practically dripping with. He has a way with words that make you swoon and feel absolutely weak around him, despite your best efforts not to.

You wrap him up in a tight squeeze, causing him to wheeze out all the air in his throat. “Happy valentine’s day to you too, sunshine” he says with a weak laugh, hugging you right back.

Served on your plates are the finest non-synth brahmin ribeyes the commonwealth provides. With every bite, Hancock talks your ear off, more so tonight than ever. All the talking and laughing got your throat dry, and you reached for the wine glass to quench the thirst. 

One sip, and it feels like flames down your throat, sending you into a coughing fit. Quick to action and full of concern,  “Hey! ‘You alright?” the mayor is already reaching over the table to rub your back.

“Jesus, John! What’s in this?” you manage through your hacks. He moves his arm away from you and rubs the back of his neck nervously instead, “Well, ya’know, just 200 year old wine and…” he trails off, looking away from you with a simper. “...and what?” you ask with almost too much venom in your voice, still burning too much to be gentle.

In a hushed voice laced with shame, John almost whispers “and two doses of Rad-X”.

You’re frozen in the revelation, slowly facing him with a sneer- a sneer that turns into a scoff, then a snicker. you plant your palms on the table, “Mayor Hancock…” and snake up towards him; smirk growing, eyes narrowing.

His face is mere inches away from yours, John is visibly nervous, but a man like him never backs down. He stands his ground, palms planted on the table, mirroring yours. The tension between you two could boil off at any minute. “What are you insinuating?” your head falls to your side, feigning ignorance. 

John kisses his teeth. His deep dark eyes change from uneasiness to a deep hunger. His mouth gapes open, softly biting his bottom lip before licking it. With a deep growl, “Is it that obvious?” he smirks.

Coarse hands caress your face, with a gentleness not uncommon with John at all. He stares deep into your eyes before pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. His rough tongue and lips ravage yours, exploring every soft crevice; not letting go until you both have to pull away to steal breaths. 

You watch intently as he moves around the table, picking up a tin of grape mentats and popping two in his mouth. It was not long until he was back on your mouth, textured hands exploring your body. John pulls you up onto the table, slotting himself between your thighs. A mentat, delivered deliciously with his tongue.

“Chew” he barks an order, deep and growl-like, and you have no plans to go against them. In one swift motion, he turns to his watchmen and gives them a nod; ordering them to move out.

Hancock reaches into his coat and grabs a canister of Jet, “stick your tongue out for me, doll”. You open your mouth gently and stick out your tongue, while John presses the canister onto it. “Just like that” He pushes a shot down, and you take a deep breath in. 

“Good girl”. His voice is deep and coarse, but moves through your ears like sweet molasses.

The jet leaves a tangy, tingly feeling on your tongue, numbing your throat as it makes its way down.

With one hand, Hancock supports your back, while the other explores your body. His mouth latches on your neck, sending soft kisses across your sensitive skin. His free hand traces hearts on your shoulder blade, trailing down to your waist and your hips. Teeth pull on the strap of your dress, bringing it down enough to expose your breast.

You've never felt hotter in your life. Your skin feels like it’s emanating heat, sweat beading and glistening. The moment feels realer than anything you’ve felt before, and you can feel every single sensation. You chalk it down to the mentats working its way to your system, your nerves burst with energy and euphoria. And your body betrays you against Hancock's touch.

Time feels like it's going by at an excruciating speed. 

His kisses are achingly slow and deliberate, slowly trailing down to your breast. A bite to your bud sends hot and cold sensations throughout your body; and much like electricity running through your veins, it sends goosebumps. John’s doesn’t spend too much time on your chest before he continues his Freedom trail lower.

Your waist and hips receive much of the same love, if not more. The ghoul takes his time giving you hickeys around your love handles, palms rubbing small circles around your lower back, with your dress hiked up. His grip on you traces the curves of your body, going lower until they’re pawing at your legs. You spread them for him.

Hancock hovers between your thighs, looking up at you with a certain candor, polite, but with an aching hunger of a ghoul going feral nonetheless. You give him a nod.

A sharp and burning sensation moves through the pit of your stomach, as adrenaline shoots through your veins. The heat moves below your abdomen, and in between your parted legs.

A loud gasp uncontrollably escapes your lips from the high, just as Hancock takes a strong bite into your thigh, licking it gently after.

Your vision slows, everything blurs in motion, and you feel nothing but ecstasy and raging fire within you. No deeper need for Hancock than you have now. The devious mayor chuckles deeply, hot breath on your heat; “I'll give you enough of me for two lifetimes, sister”.

A/N: Hullo!! Thank you for making it this far :') I don't typically write smut OR fanfiction for that matter!! I hope this wasn't too cringey B) <3 FOR THE WOMEN, BY THE WOMEN!