Fallout Preferences and Oneshots

"Trust In Me" John Hancock x SoSu NSFT knifeplay

(Crying, sole riding him, knife)

"That's it, beautiful. You're doing great.." Usually the voice spoken from the man below you soothed you, the rolling rasp of it like music to your ears- but within this particular moment..it wasn't exactly relaxing.

There were several factors that played into why..

For starters, every muscle in your body had been exhausted- the strain of having to heave yourself up and down on your ghoulified lover's cock combined with countless orgasms likely being the source of this affliction. See, once Hancock lured you to bed, you knew better than to assume only a couple rounds- there was hardly a time his libido could be satiated with that alone- instead you were treated to round after round of John delivering you to the greatest extent of your limits. Be it with his mouth, his fingers, or his cock- he did it to you. But no matter, that was only the tip of the iceberg.

With a low chuckle, Hancock's blurred smoky eyes lazily appraised your wrecked form. Tears falling down your stained cheeks, little whimpers and hasty pants that rattled your entire chest, all giving you a pathetic look. Yet to him you were nothing less of a divine being, the pleasure he felt due to your actions doing very little to distract him from his admiration of you. Even so with his loving gaze and the brutal waves of overstimulated torment you felt, nothing could quite compete with the thrill of the cool blade at your throat.

Oh yes, a blade. His blade.

It was a true testament to your trust in the irradiated man before you. You, though on top and supposedly in control, were at his mercy. One wrong move, one twitch in the wrong way and your lover could easily end your life with the steely curve of his knife. Still, you did nothing but trust him. Besides, being reminded of your own mortality can prove to be the best way to feel..alive.

"O..I-I, agh..." Why did you even think you could speak? It only came out as a watery whine, all thoughts of being able to control even something as personal as your voice having been thrown out the window in favor of the mind numbing carnal pleasure that coursed through your veins.

All you could do was continue on. Continue fucking the man beneath you until you found clarity once again and realized just how bad the mess you've made of yourself is. A mess was the only way to describe yourself now anyways- a filthy slew of cold, congealed blood from unknown cuts, cum, tears, sweat, and slick covering the both of you.

Now your only hope was that you didn't need to take Rad-x in the morning.