falloutkinkmeme_backup | Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

Entry tags:

Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

Welcome to the Fallout Kink Meme, Part IV! Please assume the position.

GO TO THE LATEST PAGE TO POST NEW PROMPTS

PINBOARD ARCHIVE: Filled Prompts | Unfilled Prompts

Fallout Kink Meme posting guidelines

Read something? Love something? No matter how old the story is, please let our amazing authors and artists know that you enjoyed their work with a nice comment, and share the love by recommending your favorite fills!

He also reminds me of Octavian in the second series of "Rome"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WsGEoYUZ6r8&feature=related

Hadn't even known I wanted this until now!

Aww!

yes. yes.
yes.
yes.
this is wonderful. so wonderful!

Butch is finally out in the Wastes and, since anything goes out here, he decides to try Psycho and Jet for the first time. Cue fresh-out-of-the-Vault!Butch tripping balls.

Bonus if he kind of prefers whiskey anyway as his drug of choice.

Seconded!
Sometimes your hear some Paladins saying that Hardin doesn´t challenge McNamara openly because he owes the Elder his life, it´d be great to read something about that!

She stopped. Her eyes were on the curve of his spine, watching sweat shine on scar-riddled skin. Some were claw marks, deathclaw in size; some were bite marks in the shape of coyotes’ teeth and others were winding scars, whipping scars. Her tongue wet her lips.

“I should whip you.”

She traced one with a trembling finger. “Did you drop to your knees, asking for mercy and found none? Or were you begging for it, begging for Caesar’s sweet discipline?”

He grunted, hips twitching as soon as she stopped moving. She laughed and continued to rock against Vulpes, eager to make him come.

Vulpes’ limbs jerked. He couldn’t help but utter small groans, so small that he imagined only he could hear them, but she was giggling. Vulpes hoped that all they could hear were her maddening giggles.

Her uneven nails dug into his skull as she painfully jerked his head backwards, so that they could make a bit of eye contact. She licked her lips.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?”

The Courier’s voice got louder, so that everybody could hear. “I can stop, you know. All you have to do is give up, step down and give me control of the Legion. Nothing will change, except that you’ll be my lapdog instead of Caesar’s.”

He sneered. Her eyes, though dark with lust and insanity, were sharper than most. He should have figured her out by the look in her eyes, known by the ambition and the zealous drive that he saw in there because while the Legion’s men are loyal to their own, they lie to all the others. They all have the same eyes. But he had kept his thoughts to himself. He had followed Caesar’s counsel.

And now, Caesar was dead. He was facedown, his cheek against wood, nude in front of them, while she laughed and enjoyed his misery—used him like a whore.

Her moans and breathless insults were loud as her hips moved without rhythm. Her skin was damp. Her nails, already chipped and sharp from scratching at him, dug even deeper into his hips. Vulpes shuddered, half-disgusted and half-relieved. It was about to end for them both and she was determined that he be the first. He bit the inside of his cheek.

“No.”

“What’s that, darling?” she cooed as she leaned in close to kiss the dip in his shoulder, tasting salt and dirt. She shuddered and let out a tiny giggle.

“You will never get me to hand the Legion over to you,” he hissed as he thrashed about, trying once again to throw her off balance with every ounce of strength he had left, because it was all about to end and he didn’t want to see the endgame.

Her mouth was near his ear, breath hot and ragged. He clumsily caught her lip between his teeth, drawing first blood from her. She smiled brightly as her hand forced his head down. “I don’t need your permission. Never did.”

Vulpes stopped resisting. He remained still and quiet, even when her hand briefly went to stroke his cock. Everything felt more intense now that he wasn’t fighting her—he could feel how thick it was—how painful it was—how pleasurable it was, despite the utter horror of it all. He could feel bile rising in his throat, but he also felt his testicles tightening up. Off-handedly, he mused about which one would come first. He hoped the vomit would.

Her next thrust sent tingles up his spine. He moaned. It felt more intense than those other ones, even when he was almost half-gone with lust before. His body had reached its limits. Hungry, tired, wounded and bruised and used, it just couldn’t keep on fighting; it had finally caved into her torture.

He managed a weary scowl as she moved him on his back. She wanted to see everything, wanted him to see everything and them to see everything, too. It slipped back inside him and it hurt, but not like before. He grunted.

Her face was sweaty. Thin strands of hair stuck to her flushed cheeks. Blood still shined in the spot where his teeth managed to break skin. Her mouth was open, tongue flickering over her bottom lip. Vulpes could only stare at her in fascination as he helplessly felt the escalating burn in his belly.

Vulpes’ last moans were guttural, broken apart in his throat. His back arched and ached from arching; muscles protested the movement, bones creaking, popping, screaming in the wake of frenzied twisting. His eyes squeezed shut, so that he didn’t have to witness the triumph in her eyes, but her afterimage lingered amongst the bursts of color. He could feel the slickness of his come on his stomach, dipping into his naval, inciting a shiver from him. Her fingers scooped some up and he could hear her licking it from her fingers.

His eyes were still closed. He didn’t want to face them or her—didn’t want to see the evidence of his orgasm. She withdrew from him, leaving him cold and bared to all; he didn’t even have the strength to close his legs. What did it matter, anyway?

Sweat trickled down his chin as he laid there, eyes blinking open to take in the full light of the sun. He turned his head. She was standing tall, clothes and armor back on, red hair dull in the brilliance of the sun, face grotesque, giddy and of course, triumphant.

Her boots were close to his hand. And he was lying at her feet, open and bare and bruised, like he was hers.

He was. She won and she never needed his surrender.

“Take a good long look, boys. This will be you. It will be your ass on display if you get too rebellious for my tastes. I own the fucking Legion now.”

Her voice boomed in his ears. He winced. He wondered when he will manage to get the strength to kill himself because he cannot see any point in staying alive, now that Caesar was gone and she was here. He wondered if she’ll let him. He coughed and it brought up blood.

His coughs brought attention back to himself.

“Get him out of here. I don’t want to deal with him right now.”

They hauled him up by his armpits, dragging him away from the stand, but not before she ran a hand down his face, saying good bye for now. His head lolled and he blearily blinked his eyes, the camp flittering in and out of his vision. Hands were on him, he dizzily thought, hands were on his naked flesh and he should care, but he didn’t.

Because I am shameless and have no standards.
Plusthere'saseverelackofAhzrukhalwritings/smut/anythingingeneralweh-

Non-con is preferred but it doesn't *have* to be. I just really want to see Boone having some kind of angry/dominant sex with F!Courier. Any situation is good really C:

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much. I love you and this fill. I loved how it was equal parts physical and psychological. I loved the line "I don't need your permission. Never did." I loved how it made me feel equal parts triumphant and sorry for Vulpes.

You are a wizard.

Boone, you can 'doesn't count' me any day.

unf

Ma'am :D

Star Paladin Cross noooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!
/cry
finally she gets a much deserved starring role in a fic (she was favourite companion as a good karma LW) only to be squished like a nug. No justice!

*my favourite
*bug

damn my typos

I'm so glad this is anonymous. I'm almost done with your fill OP! Should have it up sometime today. >_<

I'm in love, authoranon.

Totally seconded, OP!

Sssseconded!

A!A: Finally, someone else who likes Cross! Honestly, I thought I was the only one. :D. Don't be sad, anon. It's not over til' it's over.

This sort of got longer than I thought. I couldn't let it end without a little retribution and...fluff if you can call it that. Hope this is what the OP was looking for. Sorry if there's a bit too much Ahzrukhal.

A/N: Paragraphs in italics are past moments. Hope it's not too confusing.

Characters: Charon, FLW, Ahzrukhal
Relationship: Het, Charon/FLW
Tags: noncon, size, ghoul, bondage, and voyeurism

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

“Just grab her. Discretely of course. Bring her here when all the cretins have gone to sleep. Again, discretely Charon...or you'll have more troubles than sore feet.”

Her eyes had gone wide when she'd seen him, but that was all she got to do before he took opportunity by hand and strangled her until she quivered and passed out; oxygen deprived and the shade of a midday sky. It seemed at the time the simplest way to subdue her without attracting attention, but a stray hiccup she'd made prior to going under stirred something horrible in his gut. That sound had to have been worse than any retaliation she would have mustered against him, then or later.

Surely...nothing was worse than that pathetic little sound.

“As you command, Ahzrukhal...”

Everyone in the museum had terrible sleep schedules, some didn't sleep unless it was a matter of physical need, but fortunately for him, and unfortunately for her, the foray and halls were barren. Empty. Not a sound of a lone shuffling ghoul could be heard, none but his own two careful feet. The smoothskin slung hapless over his shoulder, draped in a stained sheet that would have done little good covering up it's secrete if someone did happen past, but no one did.

Up the stairs there was no one, at the door there was no one, and inside the Ninth Circle there was his employer, looking more than delighted at the package Charon carried. Delivery intact and on time. Results guaranteed.

“Excellent. It's been quite awhile, I forget how efficient you truly are.” - a grin and narrowed eyes beamed from the rotted green of his face.

Charon remained silent – that cold, empty feeling growing into a hole in his stomach. Until now his neutrality had kept most but her choked sound from any moral upheaval in him. Right and wrong didn't matter, only to his contract holder at hand did judgment pass. He shouldn't care as to what Ahzrukhal had planned...his job was done until he required disposal...though if he cannibalized her Charon wouldn't have been surprised.

“I think I'd like her...” Ahrukhal's eyes trailed around the bar, like a fly buzzing until a greasy smile wormed upon his face, “...there. On that table. On her back.”

As commanded, Charon braced a hand on the covered smoothskin's shoulder and eased her back on the still-sticky-with-beer table top. Her head made a short, thick sound when it hit the table, but no other sound came but a twitch of her fingers under the sheet. The smell of whatever her scent contained hit him briefly as he removed the sheet, he refused to let it bewitch him very long. The fresh scent of a woman hadn't drifted up his nose for far too long...

“Perfect.” Ahzrukhal purred vilely.

Charon looked down at her like a crippled puppy. Ruddy red stained under her jaw where he'd choked her, some of the deeper indents puffing with mottled purple and speckled with yellow. The poor state of her screamed to some part of him that locked up tight against the fists of how wrong he felt. Her clothes were in disarray, frayed and riddled with holes...and that shirt was sheer in the cold dank of the bar.

She looked like a sleeping child if all he stared at was her apple shaped cheeks and swollen lips.

Her door was open. Inside, as dark as the backs of his eyelids. The scent of a woman, somehow clean and sweet, hung like a perfume, or maybe it was perfume. Skips of a forgotten record twirled off it's grooves as he waited and waited. Hours crept by like days until the ancient door squeaked and on came the dim orange of florescent lights. In the corner he remained as she twirled into the room with a flourish.

She didn't see him, so unaware of her surrounding it was almost insulting as she passed him; only a few feet away. A waft of alcohol proved she'd be easier to take than he'd though. Proof of why she was humming without a care as he pushed from the corner to stalk behind her with little but a soft shift of leather.

“...here or there...seeee i'd be happy anywhere...”, she whispered out of tune - a song he'd heard when it'd been on the radio. “...as long as i'm with you...” For a fleeting second he wonder if the tune was on the twirling record in the corner, but she was kicking off bulky layers and his attention was drawn back to the task at hand with the drop of a jacket and the fumbles on a belt.

He drew ever closer.

“...i wanna go where you go...do what you-” Suddenly she went still, as if whatever awareness she saved for the outside finally kicked it just when he was about to smack the back of her head in. Her body turned on a skip of feet like some trained trapeze artist, but she was already screwed – and he saw it in her wide eyes that she knew when his hands lunged to take her throat and mouth in smothering touches.

If Ahzrukhal let him, he'd come back for the record when all was said and done.

“Sometimes I think that – oh what was his name? - hmmm...at any rate, sometimes I feel he should have charged a bit more for your contract. It is, after all, so fucking convenient.” Ahzrukhal stepped casually besides Charon, holding a drink of severely aged scotch in one hand – the other fiddling with the wrinkled tie on his chest. “For instance, I can just relax and watch you teach this cunny a lesson in manners. Why, I could just recline in this chair here.”

Charon eyed his employer from the side, watching him take a nice contented seat at the table, setting his glass beside the girl's sleeping face. The ghoul did always love adding insult to injury, but his words were too pleasant for this to be any normal disposal job. No, Charon pulled in his sneer, the bastard had something more sinister in mind.

“Cute little thing.” Ahzrukhal stated almost boringly, lifting a strand of light hair between his rotten fingers. He touched her face, thumbed her lower lip and turned her head from side to side with a snicker when she did little but breath.

“My, my, my...you did a number on this one didn't you?” he grinned and took a long drink before sitting back. Charon watched him straighten out his worn suit with a level of egotistical grace that should have been bottled as poison. He looked smugly at the girl again before a heated, and violently lustful look darkened his face, “Gag her. Then wake her up.” At that command Charon tore hard through the sheet he'd draped her in, ignoring Ahzrukhal as he rose from his chair to circle him and the smoothskin; hand behind his back as if observing some lesson he were teaching.

Charon had been gentle to sling her over his shoulder when she'd passed out – caught her before she'd fallen to the floor too – but with Ahzrukhal watching he couldn't be careful like his mind urged him too. He was rough to tighten the twined sheet between her teeth and around her head. Strands of her hair pulled into his tight knot, making her nose twitch and her lashes flutter deliriously, but she didn't awaken until he gave her a hard slap across the face, wincing minutely as he did so.

Ahzrukhal laughed too loudly as she jerked; eyes flying wide open in shock and pain...and then, at the sight of Charon, they brightened with fear and hate, but not as much as when she found Ahzrukhal standing safely at Charon's side. If the girl could summon lasers from her eyes, Charon had no doubt Ahzrukhal would be but a florescent stain on the floor...but so would he probably.

“Nice of you to wake up on time, smoothskin.”

Charon watched silently, ready for the imminent command to restrain her as she started to sit up on the table; half aware and the other half enraged. Her hand went to her face, touching the sting of the slap before running down to her neck; pain in her eyes as she traced the bruises Charon's hands left. Only when she gave a muffled insult did she grow confused and then panicked.

When he fingered touched the gag Ahzrukhal was quick, “Grab her hands.”, and Charon did as commanded. Her strength may have been good enough for the ill raider, or the green mercenary, but there was no one that could save her from his grip once he got hold of her. She could squirm and kick and jerk back like a stranded fish all she wanted. Charon wouldn't tire...he never did.

Her wrists felt small in his large fists, and when she kicked he grabbed a thigh and pushed it down on the table painfully. All she could manage was to wiggle and slap that free leg uselessly until the fight gave way to a calculating look pierced over in Ahzrukhal's direction. She wasn't as stupid as Charon had assumed. Behind that blatant hate in her eyes was a mind working diligently at potential escape.

“Yes, I'm sure you're quite confused. You must have been minding your own business and then Charon here, well, he comes at you like you've done something wrong. You should know he doesn't visit people that are wholly innocent, which puts you in the bad category doesn't it.”

She gave another sharp wiggle and Charon squeezed her wrists until the bones clacked and she stilled with a heart breaking keen. There were moments where Charon thought of nothing more than beating his employer's face into the ground with the heel of his boot, that moment was happening now...but orders. Orders were carried out. Commands were followed no matter how pretty the victim smelt...or how innocent she really was.

“Bad mouthing my business is a crime around here. Punishable by...well...whatever I deem appropriate.” Ahzrukhal started to pace – that grin growing all the more smug until, by all rights, it should have fallen off. “I'm a very aware man. Ears and eyes everywhere you could say. I know you're the little culprit to my current dilemma and...” he paused, giving Charon a look that suddenly made his body run degrees cooler, “...I know my employee has been letting his eyes wander when you decide to grace us with your presence.”

Around his hands, Charon could feel her start to shiver. She was starting to realize how helpless she really was; how at his...their...mercy she truly was.

“Think of this as killing two birds with one stone.”

There really was no limit to Ahzrukhal's sadistic pleasure, he realized with a shake of fury as a mixture of self hatred and shame warred unsuccessfully with his conditioning...as it always did. For the brief moment of silence, as the girl started to gasp through her nose and Ahzrukhal satisfied himself with grinning, Charon sealed himself back; let go of the emotions...one by one until that empty feeling started to shake everything else off. What was left was nothing, and that was better than what a normal man would feel when the next command came.

“You can bind her wrists now. I want you to have both your hands available for this...” it came out so dark and low that Charon felt the smoothskin's skin grow moist with a fearful sweat. As ordered Charon struggled briefly with her, twisting her over and squashing her chest into the table to secure her wrists with the rips of sheet, watching her fingers go white with dimming circulation. Her muffled sounds of protest fell on deaf ears...

Of all the things Charon had done – as he flipped her over on her back, staring into her pleading, wet eyes – he figured this was what would grant him a personal little spot in hell, or maybe Ahzrukhal was starting the devils work for him early with this one.

Big brown eyes leaked tears down the sides of her face – she looked just as disgusted at the situation at hand as she was giving in and crying about it. They both figured what Ahzrukhal had planned, and behind all that fear and revolt, he thought there was pity for him there too. He didn't know how to feel about that, but there was no time to feel when Ahzrukhal flipped a knife out at him. “Cut off that shirt, it's doing her no good anyways.”

A muffled sob was all she seemed to managed as Charon took the knife, grabbed the frayed hem of her shirt and cut up to her neck with one smooth slice – the material too tattered to put up a good fight against the blade. The wasteland was lacking in underclothes, and unsurprisingly she was bare underneath, all pale skin dotted with freckles, hidden from the sun and hard dusty nipples. Her eyes glazed with mortification before she was abruptly kicking and bucking fruitlessly.

“Hit her!” - and he smacked her in the face, watching her bounce back and curl on her side, still kicking desperately but with little good aim at landing any blows before Charon got a thigh in both his hands, pushing them down as she shivered to try and sit up again – she didn't.

Heaving breaths pushed her naked breasts up and down; eyes running around the room desperately as a slow, growing laugh coughed up from Ahzrukhal on the safe outskirts of her attack.

“I haven't seen so much bouncing tit since I was in the army – hehe – and that I had to pay for. Free entertainment really is the best entertainment,” he seemed to pause, taking a breather from his laughter until another short burst erupted.

Her humiliation must have been severe – the rash on her cheeks trailed down to her breasts and as Ahzrukhal laughed her eyes closed for fresh tears to flow. Charon looked down at her, mouth tight and thin, as all the black emotions threatened to tear him apart again. He couldn't say 'no' so why feel?

“I think you'll like putting on a show for me Charon, nothing like a good slice of cunt to cure what ails you. Just think! - soon she'll be begging for that extra bit more. I hear from Crowley they kick and cry at first...but give them a good ride and they'll suck your cock if you ask 'em.” Azrukhal laughed again when Charon turned away to look at the floor, a wave of nausea rising with bile on the back of his tongue. No one had ordered him to rape a woman, or beat her. He'd killed a fair few bitches that crossed him employers, but this was far from anything he'd been forced to commit...

An apology wouldn't help either of them, so he kept quiet as Ahzrukhal took a few steps closer, pausing around the table behind the smoothskin.

“Get those pants off her...she's more pleasant when she's struggling.” Ahzrukhal sneered as if her silence was insulting. “No fun in a quiet captive.”

Indeed she did struggle. Charon got to the loose belt at her waist obediently, one hand still hard on her thigh. The clank of metal seemed to rouse her. They locked eyes for a second – sharp brown and clouded blue - before a growl ripped past the gag and her body cracked forward to slam a headbutt into his nasal bone, bursting colors of pain up his face.

Charon froze in shock and Ahzrukhal barked an order – he didn't even remember what the words were, just pinned her legs down with an arm and shoved her back on the table, snorting blood up his nose with a snarl that silenced her all but a shaky exhale. She broke the bone...he was sure of it and for a shameful moment he wanted to hit her, but almost immediately it was gone as he dropped his head and yanked her pants down, taking the flimsy undergarments with them – his blood dripping on her hip in star-shaped droplets.

Charon couldn't admit to himself that she was indeed beautiful, or that he'd thought about doing this to her once or twice. It got lonely as a ghoul, especially as an owned object to someone else...but to think of such a thing while Ahzrukhal hovered around like a vulture, while she shivered in loathing and he went on as he was told...he just couldn't admit anything, let alone that.

“I don't want to get my hands dirty,” Ahzrukhal started off conversationally, wiggling his fingers in show, “Stake my claim for me would you Charon?” It wasn't a question, it was an order. Charon looked away as he dragged her hips half off the table, standing between her splayed thighs as they tensed under his ruined hands.

“Let's feel what the icy bitch is like on the inside, shall we?” When Charon paused, his mind trying to run through the exact context in which way he meant, Ahzrukhal gave a huff, “Finger the cunt until she does...something...”

Charon caught a shaky breath come in and out of her, breasts heaving again as her wet gaze turned to the side. There was little struggle anymore, as though she'd accepted her fate with little else to do but make things more difficult for only herself. Another bruise was welling under her right eye where he'd smacked her anyhow. Quickly Charon wiped the blood from his nose and pushed a hand between her breasts, locking her down on the table in case of another surprise uprising.

With his hips between her legs, he could see all of her. Once more he tried to imagine this in another scenario, but she whimpered when his fingers ran down her hip, smearing unintentionally his own blood down her thigh. There was no ignoring the situation for what it really was.

Ahzrukhal made an impatient sound in the back of his throat, and Charon drove a finger inside the girl, noting how dry she was and uncomfortably tight. A short inhale and keen was all she responded with as he curled and wedged a second digit inside, hoping her body would relent so she didn't rip when the inevitable occurred...if he could even go through with it. His own body was far from excited about the prospect...

A quiver ran up her stomach and Charon heard her make a sound much like a gag as he stretched his fingers inside with as little concern as he could muster. If she would only stretch, he thought with a withheld sneer. If only she would stop clamping down on his fingers and quivering, maybe it would be over soon.

“I know it's been awhile Charon, but no man forgets about the button,” his employer's humor filled tone was filthy enough without the words, “turn her on. I want to watch her come against her will.”

As ordered, Charon ignored the small struggle she gave – back arching and thighs trying to close – before pushing a thumb to her clit and swirling in conjunction with his working fingers. Gradually she was loosening, wetting and making the worst sounds behind that cloth gag.

“Yess...” Ahzrukhal moaned.

Every now and then she'd go very still under his touch, relax and twitch with another terrified moan. Charon watched where he touched her, unable to look away without slipping away from her clit. She was wet...and soft and...she was coming whether she liked it or not. Her thighs shook and her ribs expanded with that pathetic choke he'd had the displeasure of hearing before.

Hot insides sucked on his fingers and immediately he withdrew them, feeling burned and unable to ignore how her fluids dripped from his digits to the floor.

A glance over her shown the thin sheen of sweat, bouncing orange light off her curves as she gazed in a twilight at the ceiling.

Steps caught Charon's attention from her glassy stare. Ahzrukhal stepped, with all consuming power to the table at her side, looking at her breathing heavily in a stupor. “She's almost beautiful like this, isn't she. Damaged, humiliated...coming down from a high she didn't ask for. You did a good job Charon...and good work comes with it's rewards”

The slimy son of a bitch gave Charon a smirk as he pushed damp hair from the girls forehead, bouncing back with a short chuckle when she withdrew from the touch like a snake bite; hissing behind the gag.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 126 of 257

Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

Re: Fanart request: blonde!Vulpes

Re: Bruce Issac/Mr Bishop's Daughter

Re: Matchmaker in Heaven 2/2

Re: the world's music is silence 3/3

Butch and drugs

Re: McNamara + Hardin Anything, really!

The Mighty Become Slaves 6a/?

The Mighty Become Slaves 6b/?

F!LW and Ahzrukhal

Boone/F!Courier, non-con/dominance

Re: The Mighty Become Slaves 6b/?

Re: The Only Way to Win 4/?

Re: The Only Way to Win 4/?

Re: Bad Moon Rising Pt. 12/?

Re: Bad Moon Rising Pt. 12/?

Re: Charon/F!LW noncon

Re: Fair, Boone+F!Courier

Re: F!LW and Ahzrukhal

Re: Boone/F!Courier, non-con/dominance

Re: Bad Moon Rising Pt. 12/?

Charon/F!LW "To Do As You're Told" 1/?

Charon/F!LW "To Do As You're Told" 2/?

Charon/F!LW "To Do As You're Told" 3/?

Charon/F!LW "To Do As You're Told" 4/?

Charon/F!LW "To Do As You're Told" 5/?