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!

I didn't know I needed this, but damn do I need this.

New headcanon: the new husband she takes from the Dead Horse tribe if you tell her the truth? Totally Follows-Chalk.

Do want and will fill. If OP is still around and wants this (this prompt is almost a year old after all...)

OMG, so so so good. Love love love your Boone/Arcade.

Okay, so this is how much it affected me. Didn't see your translation. Went to google translate, typed it, found latin, pressed it, nothing, what is wrong, GAH!
Ooops. It was set to be English-Latin. Reset to Latin-English and all is well. Must stop trying to translate when horny.

OMG, so awesome. Love love love this fic. Thank you. Great character, great fun, brought a huge smile to my face.

And no, no, I DID NOT save right before activating Fisto and then go back and 'try him out' 15 times.

hell yeah. Love this fic.
1-Arcade POV is awesome and you kept it intact through the whole fic.
2-Boone character is awesome & IN character.
3-you perfectly captured that insecure feeling that those of who wear specs feel every time we wake and reach for them.

thank you!!!

Captcha: certain setem.....Really?
Can't we just say certain semen and we'll all be happy?

haha, thanks! glad you enjoyed it.

A!A, you have them playing *spin the bottle* and no one is kissing Arcade?!

LOL! Oh hon, I saw what you did there! So funny. Love how Arcade is so taken aback by intelligence not his own. That's our snarky arrogant Arcade. Love the Fiend leader too. Thank you!!

Capchta: the pusibly I wish it was possible!

Yes, another one! Oh, I get all giddy every time I see a new fill for this~!

Thank you for your comment :D

Re: 3 - I am a specs-wearer, so I could describe that feeling all too well!

I'm also really delighted you liked the POV and characterisation - Boone and Arcade are <3, and I had a great time writing them.

"He really shouldn't have had to beg for the attentions of a man calling himself the Mojave Rapelord..."

Good. Lord. I laughed so hard that it hurt. Golden line, A!A. Keep up the good work.

“Not FISTO! Anyone but FISTO!”

A!A, you deserve soooo much love. These kink meme-ers are totally slacking, so let me speak for all of us when I say I LOVED THIS SO HARD!

Dolores only half-listens to Sister Ortega’s teachings. It’s all about the same thing anyway: the Glory of God, how God granted the strength to the ancestors to survive the Great War and make their place in what used to be the American Southwest, how they needed to give thanks and praise His name. She’d heard it all before. She’d heard it every day. She wanted to learn something new for once. She loved God but He got boring after a while. She rolls her eyes up to look at the ceiling.

“Sorry,” she mouths. She continues to take notes on yellowed paper dutifully but her pencil strays every once and awhile to draw doodles of squiggly rosaries and disproportionate foxes.

“Hey,” a voice startles her from beside her ear. She tries to slam her notebook shut but it gets snatched out of her hand by swift and nimble fingers. Zorro Pequeno flashes her an unapologetic grin and holds
it open.

“I wonder what God would think about you not paying attention to Bible study,” he muses as he takes in her drawings.

“Give me that,” she says, only half-serious, swatting at it. He easily lifts it out of her grasp. “What do you care? You don’t believe in Him anyway.”

“No, I don’t,” he says. “But they still make me come to these boring classes.”

“Madre and Padre don’t want you to feel left out,” she says. “And they aren’t boring.”

“Oh? Says the girl who has more tribal doodles than words,” he says.

“Well,” she starts reluctantly. “I already know this stuff.

“Hence, it’s boring,” he says with a smile. He looks around the beaten and ragged classroom. Most of the children had gone outside for their short break from studying Scripture. He places a hand on her desk and leans forward. He close enough that she can feel his breath dance across her cheek.

“Let’s go on an adventure,” he whispers excitedly. She gasps, looking around the classroom to see if anyone had heard him.

“You mean leave Bible study?” she whispers back. “That’s sacrilege!” He rolls his eyes but the smile never leaves his face.

“Not if it’s boring. Come on! It’ll be fun!”

“I don’t know,” she says, her voice trailing off as he cups her chin.

“Dolores,” he says seriously. “I would never get you in trouble, with God or anyone else.” She lowers her eyes away from his intense gaze.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“It’s not just a good idea. It’s the best idea. Come on,” he says, pulling away from her and holding out his hand for her to take.”I wanna show you something.” A hesitant smile breaks over her face and she takes his hand.

“We shouldn’t be out here,” Dolores whispers, pulling straw from her hair. Zorro Pequeno shoots her an annoyed look. The Bighorners grunt absently and mill around the field. They are still calm because they hadn’t spotted the two children yet.

“I want to see the Bighorners,” he whispers back eagerly. “I’ve never seen so many in one place.”

“They’re mean,” she whispers back, eyeing the large horns of one of the males. “They’ll run you through with those giant horns. It happened to a kid once.” Zorro scoffs.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true!” she says indignantly. “They were picking up parts of him for days!”

“I can’t see them,” he says impatiently. He stands and leaves the cover of the haystack. She gasps when he leaves her sight.

“Zorro,” she hisses. He doesn’t answer her, so she calls a little louder. “Zorro!” A pitchfork leans against one of the fence posts. She tentatively steps out from the cover of the haystack, gripping the pitchfork tightly. She’ll keep the Bighorners from hurting Zorro, even if she has to fight every last one. A Bighorner enters her line of vision and she sneaks toward it. She doesn’t see Zorro and her stomach drops through her stomach. Oh no. What if he got eaten?

“What are you doing with that, cazadore? Gonna make some Bighorner steak?” Zorro’s voice sounds from above her.

“Are you dead?” she whispers, eyes darting across the sky.

“Look up, pendeja.” She looks up to see the head of a Bighorner chewing grass absently. Zorro Pequeno leans over the Bighorner’s forehead, holding on to the large horns.

“What are you doing up there?” she asks, amazed. “How did you even-?” Zorro shrugs carelessly.

“He likes me.” The Bighorner makes eye contact with her as if seeing her for the first time. He growls, grass falling from his mouth as it bares his teeth. She takes a step back and tightens her grip on the pitchfork. She levels it at the Bighorner, growling back at him. Zorro Pequeno’s eyes flash coldly and he tugs at the fur on the Bighorner’s head.

“No,” he says forcefully. “Don’t hurt her or I’ll make you regret it.” The Bighorner whines, eyes darting wildly up at him and back at her. The Bighorner takes another step toward her and Zorro tugs his fur again.

“No,” he says dangerously, and the tone of his voice causes her to shiver. The Bighorner whines and plops down on the grass. Zorro smiles blissfully and all trace of the coldness he exhibited earlier is gone. He motions her over and she cautiously begins to walk toward him.

“Do you want to pet him?” he asks kindly. She nods.

“Yes,” she says. He pats the top of the Bighorner’s head.

“Come on,” he breathes. “He won’t hurt you.” She eyes the pitchfork still clenched in her hands and sets it down gently on the grass. She reaches out a hand to pet the Bighorner. He snorts loudly and she jerks her hand away. Zorro’s hand wraps around her wrist.

“Don’t be scared,” he says, tugging her hand over. “He won’t hurt you. I won’t let him.” Her hand hovers over the fur and he pulls it down. A smile covers her face as she gently scratches the top of the Bighorner’s head.

“Wow,” she says, looking up at Zorro. “Neat.” He grins, leaning over to whisper almost secretively.

“It is, isn’t?”

“How did you do that?” she asks in awe.

“He likes me,” he says simply. “Everyone likes me.”

“You’re likable enough,” she says teasingly. “But you have your moments.” He pouts, tracing her knuckles with his finger.

“You don’t like me?” She laughs, her fingers curling in the Bighorner’s fur.

“I never said that,” she says. “When did I say that?” He leans forward and she pulls back with a small squeak. His hand moves from her wrist to tangle his fingers with hers.

“So you do like me,” he says as if there is no question about it.

“I never said that either,” she says. He laughs, showing his teeth. He’s so close and she feels her face heating up. She doesn’t know it he continues speaking because the sound of her heart thundering in her ears is all she can focus on. He leans forward and she can count the cracks in his lips.

“Hey!” a loud and crashing voice yells. She and Zorro jump alongside the Bighorner. The big horner, no longer docile, growls and stands up from his place in the grass. Dolores holds her arms out and pulls Zorro off of the raging animal. They take off running through the field, away from the farmer and his angry Bighorner’s.

Zorro grabs her hand and doesn’t let go until they are out of sight.

tags: char:Charon, char:F!LW, kink:ghoul, kink:lingerie
summary: The LW is accustomed to using her feminine wiles to get her way. Cue sexy lingerie and aroused Charon.

One-oh-One had hung her jacket on the coat-rack by the door, and left her boots on the mat. Charon always forgot to take his boots off inside.

“I'm getting really worried about Gob,” she muttered, staring off into the kitchen after finishing off the last bite of jerky she'd been gnawing on as they returned home. “Did you see how swollen his eye was this time? That bastard Moriarty ought to be run out of the town.”

Charon shrugged. “Lots of 'ought's in this world,” was all he said, before unbuckling his holster and armor and hanging it beside her coat.

The house she had claimed for her own was not far from Megaton. Charon had not been happy, preferring the setup in Megaton for the city walls. One-oh-One was set on the house. She liked the privacy, and the quiet nature of the place. It was even pretty clean after a handful of days spent scrubbing the hell out of floors and furniture with Abraxo and dirty water.

It was nice, he thought after a time, to come home to a place that smelled clean, and not like damp mold or dust.

The fridge was stocked with beer, water and food. The furniture was comfortable, the beds covered in clean, near-intact sheets, and the bookshelves were slowly accumulating more knick-knacks each time they returned. All in all, the vault girl had done everything she could to make this place into that which it might have been before the war. It was, as much as it could be, a stage where she could craft and arrange her tiny slice of the world into whatever she wanted it to be.

The girl had odd skills – something he had long since become accustomed to. She had an acute eye for detail, picking out tiny objects half-lost in rubble or noticing hidden passageways. Because of this, she had picked up wasteland tracking and predicting the weather easily. One-oh-One could worm and weasel her way out of just about anything using carefully selected words and practiced expressions. It was with great reluctance that she ever fired a weapon. Sometimes she still flinched at the sound of nearby gunfire, and shivered for some time after.

The ghoul stretched his shoulders and made for the kitchen. One-oh-One sat on the arm of the sofa, watching him open and close cabinets, deciding what he was in the mood for.

“I think I'll need your help,” she said. “Maybe you can convince him to let the poor guy loose or something.”

Charon shook his head. “I'm here for combat,” he said, and grabbed a beer from the fridge. It had been a long day, and he was ready to settle in for the evening. Charon laid on the sofa, propping his feet on the coffee table. The girl stared at him for a moment, and he looked back up at her, waiting to see if she would speak.

“I thought you were obliged to help me,” she said after a time.

The ghoul gave a derisive laugh. “I'm not an errand boy.”

One-oh-One pursed her lips, then sighed. “I suppose if I want something done proper, I'll have to use my own wiles.” She stood and headed for the stairs.

Charon twisted off the cap on the beer. “You're not going tonight, are you?”

The girl looked over the railing at him. “Don't worry, I can handle going alone. I'd rather get it out of the way, otherwise it'll just eat up my mind.”

Some time and another beer later, Charon mounted the stairs. He'd heard her running the tap for some time and got curious as to why she was washing up if she was just going to head out on the waste again, albeit briefly.

“Are you still wearing your boots?” One-oh-One called when he came up the stairs with heavy footfalls. “Could you take them off, please?”

“Where are you?” Charon asked when he didn't find her in her bedroom.

“The bathroom.”

The ghoul sat on her bed and unlaced his boots. “Thought you were gonna head out to Megaton tonight.” He tossed his boots in front of her cabinet dresser.

“I am,” she said. “Just getting ready.”

“You decent?”

“Yeah. Come in, Charon.” He stood and leaned in the doorway to her adjoining bathroom.

Her hair was in rollers, body cloaked in a tattered robe, and she patted powder over her cheeks.

“What're you getting gussied up for?”

The vault girl looked at him through the cracked mirror. “Well you wouldn't go, so I'm going to speak to Jericho about it.”

He took a sip from the beer in his hand, thinking. “Like that?”

“How else does a lady get her way?” As she pulled her hair from the curlers, Charon noticed the dirt had been dug from underneath her fingernails.

The ghoul snorted, and retreated to his own bedroom to change out of his leathers.

He thought on the situation for some time, thinking over what she'd said, and the makeup on her face. It was his employer's prerogative how she wanted to handle certain situations, and he knew she abhorred having to personally resort to violence, but it wasn't a side of her that he was familiar with. He'd seen far more dirt on her face than cosmetics.

Once Charon had traded his leather for a simple pair of trousers and a teeshirt, he returned to One-oh-One's room, intent upon questioning the feasibility of her plans.

He turned the corner to her bathroom. “Are you r – ”

One-oh-One had her skirt gathered around her waist, and was hooking a set of hose into her garter belt suspenders. The seam ran from her heel, all the way up to her pale thighs, and the satin panties let peek the rounded edge of her behind where it met her leg. The back of the dress itself was still unzipped, and hung open, baring a snug, matching bustier. She dropped the skirt.

“What?”

Charon cleared his throat. “Are you really going to go through with this?” he asked quietly.

“I expect so.” The vault girl narrowed her eyes at the ghoul, but relaxed her gaze once more. Perhaps it was the cherry-red lipstick that he wasn't quite used to, but it seemed as if the corners of her mouth grew ever so slightly taunt, and her eyes, highlighted with dark brown liner, seemed to darken. “Do you think he'll like it?” she asked, turning to face him.

Charon took a gulp from his beer, licking an errant droplet from his bottom lip. “Probably.”

One-oh-One slipped her feet into the heels that had been standing at the ready next to the sink. Her cheeks were a rosy red from rouge, but it looked like a flush from the heat of battle. “Silly question, I suppose,” she said, then let the dress slide down her arms and hit the floor with a soft rumple. “Do you think it all looks right?”

The black lace and satin garments made her skin look ever lighter, and she was clean of any wasteland dirt. Charon looked briefly, but then kept his eyes trained on hers. “Mmhmm.”

She gave an exaggerated sigh, then leaned back against the sink, her arms resting behind her and chest pushed out. “I guess not, since you'll hardly look.” There was no edge on her voice, so carefully softened. It was not her day-to-day tone. Her eyes traveled down to Charon's clenched fist, and he relaxed it immediately. The girl glanced back up at him, expression betraying nothing.

“No, it's nice,” he said. “Really. Stockings are a nice touch.”

“Hmm.” She cast her eyes wistfully into the mirror. “Come here a moment.”

The ghoul took a reluctant few steps forward. He could smell clearly the powdery musk of her makeup, soap, and a subtle bite of perfume.

One-oh-One pushed herself up so she was seated on the edge of the sink, just a little bit closer to eye height with her companion. Her eyes glanced down briefly but it was so quick he couldn't guess what she was looking at. She pulled her hair over to one side of her shoulder, exposing her neck. “And the perfume?”

Charon nodded. “I can smell it from here.”

The vault girl looked up at him through her eyelashes. “But how does it smell up close?”

The ghoul leaned in and inhaled. “Just fine.”

One-oh-One turned her head ever so slightly and, in a whisper, asked. “You promise?” He could feel her breath on his neck.

“Yeah.” Charon straightened. The girl smirked, but before he had a chance to wonder what about, she had slid her hand over the front of his trousers to feel the erection underneath. He sucked in a breath at the brief contact.

“Just had to check that you weren't simply being polite.” Charon narrowed his eyes at his employer and her cocky smile. After a moment, the vault girl placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back. “Well, I ought to be getting ready then.” She scooped up her dress and exited to the bedroom to check herself in the larger bureau mirror. As she walked, the muscles in her thighs flexed and her hips swayed unlike any way she walked in her wasteland armors.

Charon stood in the bathroom doorway, watching.

The girl admired herself in the mirror for a moment, before looking back. “What are you doing?”

“Just watching.”

“You look like you want to do more than just watch.”

Charon sipped his beer. “Do I?”

One-oh-One smiled. “Felt like it too.”

The ghoul gave her a hard stare. “I know what you're playing at.”

“Do you?”

“It's not going to work.”

“I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about,” she said, the innocent tone unconvincing. One-oh-One sat on the bed and crossed her legs slowly. “From what I felt, I would have thought you'd enjoy me like this. I know it must be hard to even tell most of the time out there, but believe it or not, I do understand how to act like a lady.”

He wouldn't have believed it had it not been right in front of him. Charon had seen her crouched by a fire to cook a wasteland dinner, had watched her duck and run during fire fights, and had seen her weasel her way from many things with words, but Charon had never seen her hint at any real semblance of sexuality. But there she was, in the sexiest getup, with all the poise of a pre-war pin-up.

One-oh-One shrugged. “I had thought perhaps, instead of the filthy wastelander I normally am, you'd enjoy undressing a woman.”

Charon took a deep breath, the feeling of arousal twisting in his belly at the suggestion.

“Of course,” she said, tilting her head down in mock-coyness. “I'm also very talented at a different kind of filthiness.”

Charon drained his beer and set it down on the cabinet harder than he'd meant. The woman stood and circled the bed, deliberately swinging her hips in show, drawing his eyes. She fussed with her hair in the mirror once more.

“You could have me if you wanted,” she said, turning to gaze at him over her shoulder.

“But only if I do something for you.”

She had a charming smile. “Precisely.”

“I have the strength to hold you down,” he warned.

“And I have a powerful little word called 'stop.'”

Charon frowned. The two were at a stand-still, each eying the other from across the bed like predators. Finally, Charon's lips curled up in a smirk.

“So that's what it takes to buy you?”

One-oh-One's smile wavered, but she held it deliberately. “What?”

“A favor for a favor?” The ghoul crossed his arms in front of himself. “I'm not in the mood for an errand, but it just seems so... easy.”

One-oh-One's lips pursed, but she turned her eyes down and then smirked. “I have to admit, I wasn't planning on this being a pleasant evening until the alternative option presented itself.” She strode around the bed, eyes fixated on his expression. “Jericho would be a necessity, but you...” She sighed. “I've always had a weakness for tall, strong men.”

“Is that the concession?” Charon asked. “I still have to pay for it, but at least you'll enjoy it?”

The girl didn't act as if she had heard him, only busied herself with making slow circles on his abdomen with her fingertip. “It's not the first time I've convinced a man to change his mind,” she said. “But maybe it'll be the last.” The woman slid her hand up his chest. “Maybe you can make it so I never have to seduce a man into what I want him to do, and maybe the only bed I'll warm from now on is ours.”

“Ours?”

“Would you like to share my bed?” She tilted her head back to look up at him through her lashes. Charon had a clear view of the tops of her breasts, pushed up by the bustier. “Would you like it if I were only yours?”

“Would you hate it if I were the only one you were ever with?” As he spoke, Charon let his thumb trail over the girl's collarbone and let his fingertips just barely touch the soft skin on her neck before pulling his hand away.

“I think you'd like to feel my body underneath you.” One-oh-One smiled. She leaned forward so that her chest was just barely touching his. “Every night, if you like.”

“Would it require additional errands?” he asked, a mocking smile curling his lips. His hand, however slipped down along her side and around to the small of her back, gently pulling her closer.

“Or rather,” she said, ignoring his comment. “I just might wake you in the night and have you take me.” Her hands ran up and down his spine, teasing with a feather's touch. “Perhaps I have other outfits like this that I'll wear for you. Or maybe you just want me to sleep in nothing at all.”

Charon felt his hand begin to dip down over the girl's backside, and he pulled it back up higher.

One-oh-One hooked her hand around the back of Charon's neck and pulled him down to where she could whisper to him. “When was the last time you had a woman's mouth around your cock?”

The ghoul groaned, and grabbed hold of her hair, using it it steer her mouth to his. She kissed him hard, and her hand on his neck held him close. She opened her mouth to him and ran her tongue along his bottom lip.

Charon pulled back, just enough to move his mouth to her neck, but before his lips touched her, “Stop.”

One-oh-One pushed back far enough to meet his eyes. Her smile grew as her fingers slid over his erection once more. “Okay,” she said, as sweet as sugar. “Go ahead.”

The ghoul pushed her back so she fell on the bed and he was on top of her, between her thighs, a moment after. He bit her earlobe lightly, drawing a groan from the woman, and kissed her neck with the occasional swipe of his tongue or soft bites. He threaded his hand into her hair, pulling her closer.

“Stop.”

Charon growled, digging his hand into her hair in frustration. She let the moment drag out while he lay frozen.

“Go.” She kissed him again, teasing the tip of his tongue with her own. Charon pulled back and let his forehead rest against hers, keeping his lips just out of reach. Instead he pushed his hips forward, rubbing his erection against her. He must have hit the right spot because One-oh-One's breath caught in her throat as he did. When he did it again her stocking-clad legs slipped over the backs of his thighs, drawing him closer. A third time, and her face pressed into the crook of his neck, a low coo of a moan falling from her lips. After one last thrust, and her body had arched and pressed against him, he turned her head to ghost his lips over hers. “Not gonna say it now?” he mocked.

Her eyes opened. “Stop.” Her voice was low, almost agonized. She held his gaze for a long time, then pulled herself up and out of his grasp. She smoothed her hair. “Well, I... I should be going. It's getting late.”

The ghoul leaned back. “I thought you were trying to convince me to be your errand boy.”

One-oh-One grabbed her dress from the foot of the bed. “Well, you didn't want to have to buy me.”

Charon sat on the edge of the mattress. He reached under his waistband to adjust himself, having been pushed to one side uncomfortably. “Sit down,” he said, reaching for his boots. “I'll go.”

She didn't respond so he looked back over his shoulder. One-oh-One opened and closed her mouth, then fixed her expression in one that suggested the confidence she'd held earlier, but didn't quite capture it. “Thought you said I wasn't going to change your mind,” she said stubbornly.

“When you said you wouldn't sleep with anyone else,” he said slowly. “You were just saying things you thought I wanted to hear.” He spoke softly, as if it were a question.

One-oh-One picked at the quilt with her fingernails. “Well. I wouldn't have to. Not if you could strong-arm people into it, I mean. So I guess I wasn't just saying it.”

Charon nodded, then slipped his boots on and laced them. He didn't change into his leathers, only meant to fasten his holster and shotgun over the house clothes when he went downstairs. One-oh-One simply watched him, and when he was ready, he leaned over the bed and kissed her. The woman held the side of his face in her palm.

The ghoul left her sitting on the bed as he went to leave.

He looked back in the doorway to see One-oh-One on the edge of the bed. Her eyes were aimed at the carpet, hand fisted in the sheet, and teeth sunk into her bottom lip. Her chest was flushed a ruddy red and heaved with deep breaths. Her free hand slipped down over the front of her underwear for a brief moment.

Charon smirked. “You okay?”

She started, looking up at him. “Yeah,” she said, then paused to clear her throat. “Just out of breath. The bustier is tight.”

He looked her up and down. “Put the dress back on and set the table,” he said. “I'll bring back something to eat. It'd be a shame for a lady to get gussied up and have nowhere to go.”

brb, dying
But seriously, omg. This is the best fill ever. EVER. I couldn't have asked for a better A!A~

Couldn't have asked for a better prompt or readers! So much love is so inspiring and wonderful.

I'm actually ABOUT to post more! WEEEE

Love,
A!A

YOU ARE A... Um. Comment-smith. And a love-smith.

Love,
A!A

You are a delight to my black hole.

...wait no. I meant... Okay you are a delight to my universe.

Love,
A!A

Kate keeps him entranced with eyes that sparkle in the dark, helping him along the rest of the way to her awaiting body with a tug to his vest. She slowly pushes her knee up between his legs once he’s there and cocks her head to the side with a malevolent smile.

All at once her body is pressed to his, firm and soft and excessively hot in the stuffy storage room. He can see the sweat, just there, in the dip above her upper lip.

He leans forward as her hands slide up the sides of his neck, thin fingers plucking at his earlobes before they’re tangled in his hair. He closes in until their thickened breathing puffs against lips and noses, until his tongue is there in that sweet little cleft, cleaning the sweat away with a chaste, wet touch.

“I want you.” She breathes out in a burst of hot air, as if she had been holding it in, and he nods deliriously, lifting her and placing her on the crate behind her in a hurried move.

He isn’t sure who this man is, the one here in the storage room, kissing his son’s first love, cheating on his wife, betraying his friend and doctor. Herman was so quickly and wholly possessed by this girl’s presence that he didn’t have time enough to comprehend his destruction. He still cannot, not even now when still balancing on the brink of free-fall.

It is too much though, for he is not allowing himself a thought in this moment; it is too risky.

There is only Kate; the damp heat of her pressed against him deeply as she spreads her legs wantonly, grinding against him in breathtaking urgency.

He nearly can’t take it, not this all at once so quickly. She must be vastly experienced or vastly inexperienced, for she moves her hips just so that Herman’s hands rush to steady her movements, sinking his fingers into her waist in an attempt to still her.

She doesn’t like that; her teeth bump against his purposefully in retaliation before they’re sinking into his lip, a small noise escaping from her throat that sounds vaguely threatening.

His eyes begin to water from the sharp pain in his lip and the great urgency in his groin and panicky heart—it’s not enough, but it never will be. She has gone too far, pushed him too greatly, and now he can never be completely satisfied with what she can give him. Not truly.

She’s too fast for him, too graceful and strong, he realizes. Kate slides down from the crate; her lips devouring him and making his muscles ache from the excitement.

She claws at him, rips at the zipper of his vault suit, pushes him back against the crate with overt aggression, and utterly steals his breath away when she lowers herself to her knees in front of his opened suit.

He nearly breaks down when he realizes that the bulky contraptions on her knees are, in fact, Little League knee pads.

“Why me?” He asks once more with a shaken gasp, enraptured with the image of her tongue gliding along a prominent vein running up the side of his penis.

The sounds she makes, wet and depraved and shameless, has his chest filling with fluttering and unstable air, has his arms shaking with the grip he has on the crate behind him. He hasn’t wanted someone so terribly since—

“I already told you.” She whispers around the bulk of him, taking a moment to smile humorlessly up at him before pulling his hips slowly towards her. Herman watches with a restless sort of groan as his cock, swollen and too hot and pulsing from excitement, sinks into her mouth until it disappears.

She’s done this before, he thinks faintly as his head falls back in bliss. With my son? With Wally Mack?

The fury that grovels sickly in his chest makes him thrust his hips forward sharply, pressing the tip of him against the back of her throat and making her cough and gag loudly.

“You bastard…” Kate pants and blinks heavily as a murky tear runs a black line down her cheek. She opts to pump him with her hand as she catches her breath.

Looking down at her, though, Herman can tell she isn’t offended. The opposite, actually; her eyes sparkle with admiration and heat for him, a genuine smile spreading across her shining lips as she wipes at her running eye-makeup.

It makes him want to vomit, to strike her, so he forces himself to look away from her as he wraps his hand over hers, guiding her towards his release. And it’s not long away; he’s been thinking about this for too long, wanting this and hating this.

It’s barely two minutes of her working her mouth and hand over him that he comes, her name on his breath and his hands forcing her head down on his hips with two handfuls of her hair until she’s choking.

Herman finds himself watching her as she carefully guides him through post-orgasmic shudders, her tongue caressing him in gentle circles and lips sucking in light, methodic pulses.

It doesn’t take him long to realize that she has been touching herself this entire time—his eyes travel in awe along the length of her arm until it disappears between her legs.

“Let me.” He breathes—begs, really.

She doesn’t respond, doesn’t really move other than to rest the side of her face against his thigh. Her eyes, which are closed in delight, open suddenly in a devilishly languorous way to meet his—his breath hitches at the sight.

Herman grows impatient with her constant teasing, opting to yank her up to him by her shoulder. She yelps from the rough movement, wincing deeply in pain before she stomps on his foot in reprisal.

It’s not much, but it still makes him grunt in discomfort before he’s yanking her back against his chest, molding her form to his and hugging his arms around her tightly to prevent her struggle. They fight for a moment, her snarling and scratching at him in her attempts to wiggle out of his grip. He holds her down well enough.

Kate lets her head fall back to his shoulder and arches her back into him, grinding her backside against him restlessly, shamelessly.

“I’ll never forgive you.” He whispers in her ear as his fingers fumble with her suit’s zipper, clumsily forcing their way into her underwear.

She laughs, the horrible thing; laughs and presses a searing kiss to that very same spot on his jaw where she began all of this. “You will.”

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 191 of 257

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

Re: Follows-Chalk/Waking Cloud

Re: Touchy Charon/F!LW

Re: Boone/Arcade, 'Good Morning Jacobstown' 7/7

Re: Assume The Position (2/2)

Re: Arcade/Boone - 'Lost and Found' (3/3)

Re: Boone/Arcade, 'Good Morning Jacobstown' 7/7

Re: M!Courier + Arcade, 'Basic Forms of Government' 1/1

Re: Bedside Manner (5/5)

Re: Arcade/Boone - 'Lost and Found' (3/3)

RE: The Only Way to Win 8/?

Re: Practical Joke Gone Wrong 1/1

Aches and Sorrows 5/?

Aches and Sorrows 6/?

Aches and Sorrows 6.5/?

Silver Tongue [1a/?]

Silver Tongue [1b/?]

Re: Silver Tongue [1c/?]

Silver Tongue [1d/?]

Silver Tongue [1e/1, complete]

OP here

Re: OP here

Re: Criminal 3b/?

Re: Criminal 3b/?

Criminal 3c/?

Criminal 3d/?