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

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

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

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Do want please

Robo-rimjobs? On my Kinkmeme? It's more likely than I thought.

...and I loved every moment of it.

Well, I think this is the point where I can officially answer "me" when people ask "who reads this shit?"

LOVED IT, A!A.

Hah, yes. Excellent.

DYING. HI-LARIOUS. PERFECT. "At least profligates know how to keep their junk clean!” I CAN'T. AIR. AIR.

ಠ‿ಠ

I even, anon. I even.

to OP: this was magnificent. Words fail me but I ADORE this! Hilarious and sexy.

"Shit," he said, breathing ragged, "sorry." Apologizing to the robot prostitute.

"You may rest your feet on my chassis," Fisto offered.

This is where I died. DAMN YOU FISTO, WHY ARE YOU SO....ADORABLE(?) ;~; I love the way you write, your dialogue and character's thoughts are funny and witty but also seem totally natural and in character! Which is... quite a feat for a pairing like this! My hats off to you, thank you so much for the awesome fill.

would OP be adverse to arcade/boone?

A!a, I simply can't relay to you how much I love love love this story. Never stop being so perfect.

I might not be the OP but I second this idea wholeheartedly hnghhhh

OP would fucking love some Arcade/Boone.

This wasn’t what she had expected. When the Brotherhood’s geiger counters had jumped and Sarah had given her that hopeless, wide-eyed look, Emma had expected to die. She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and tried to ignore the feeling that this was what she had been waiting for this whole time: the chance to die like her dad had, and leave the wastes behind forever.

And lying on the cold metal of the rotunda floor, she had felt something almost like hope as darkness closed in around her.

She hadn’t been expecting to wake up in the Citadel. She hadn’t wanted to. Lying still, listening to the whirring of the machinery that was monitoring her vital signs, Emma thought of a poem her father had once read her.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

They’d tried to explain what was wrong with her. The radiation got inside her body; inside her bones. It had done something to her blood cells, mutated them and made them reproduce uncontrollably. Cancer.

But I have promises to keep.

She hadn’t understood, not really. Science wasn’t her thing. She knew she was dying, slowly and painfully, she knew there wasn’t anything that could be done, and she knew that the Enclave was still alive, scattered across the Capital Wasteland. She had thought she wanted to die, but not like this.

Not alone in a hospital bed, too weak to breathe without mechanical aid. Not while there was still work to be done. Not before the Enclave was properly destroyed. Not before she’d said her good-byes.

And miles to go before I sleep.

It was her 20th birthday, she had saved the Wasteland, Butch was dozens of miles away in Rivet City, and she was dying. She let her eyelids flutter shut.

And miles to go before I sleep.

I posted this without editing. Let's play 'oh god look at the typos, why don't I revise more?!!?!!'

Holy shit this is beautiful. And gut-wrenching. There's nothing worse for an adventurer than to meet a slow death in a bed, and especially after being robbed of her epic, poetic death, echoing her father and saving the world? Oh, man.

Gorgeous work, a!a.

Has someone sent this to Inbox yet? I think he needs to read this :D

wonderfully sad, anonnie

Omg this is so good! I love you!

She scrambled back away from his grasp before power stomping his dick.

Power stomping his dick.

ILU ANON. <3

ALL OF MY FOURTHED. <3

FUCK TYPOS.

Seriously, this is amazing. Aaaaaaaaamaaaaaaaaaaaziiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing. May I ask who wrote the poem? It's beautiful.

This has all of my love, anon!~ <3

He looks at her, dumbfounded. She sits serenely staring at him, a hint of apology in her eyes. He’s never been one for needless chatter, but he can’t stop himself.

“How can this not bother you?” She smiles a secret smile, as if he were the child and she the old man.

“I’ve had time to adjust. Accept it. Hell, I’m lucky to have made it as long as I have,” she answers.

“You’re only twenty-three, hija,” Raul chokes. She shakes her head, staring off into the setting sun.

“I’ve felt like I’ve lived a million years,” she says.

“How? How did you get so sick?” he asks, staring long and hard at her, as if he could see the deadly mutations multiplying underneath her skin. She looks normal, almost healthy. A little pale, a little gaunt, but normal.

Beautiful.

“Radiation,” she says. “Back where I’m from, there wasn’t any clean water. Hell, Lake Mead is a dream compared to the Potomac. My father worked on a purifier, but the Enclave came to claim it. He sabotaged it, and when it came time to take it back, I had to turn it on.”

“You didn’t have to,” he says in a choked voice. She shakes her head.

“No. I did. I wouldn’t have placed the burden on anyone else. Besides,” she says, and her voice grows quiet, but he can hear every terrible word clearly in the silence of the Mojave night. “I wanted to die.” He opens his mouth to protest, and she places her hand up to silence
him. “I’ve made my peace, Raul.”

“You know they’re going to suffer. Going to be distraught,” he says, looking at their group bustling in the distance. She shakes her head.

“I know. You’re going to have to comfort them.”

“There is still so much good you can do,” he says, knowing that he isn’t arguing with her, but her irreconcilable fate. She laughs, and he tries not to notice how much hoarser her voice sounds.

“I think I’ve more than paid my way into Heaven,” she says. “But you’re right. There is still more good to be done. There always is.”

Not the author-anon but the poem is "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost.

he was the sort of man who gave the impression of violent contact even if he stood a foot away.

That is the best description of the Legate I have ever read.

I'm ill and when I'm ill I have trouble expressing myself, but I wanted to tell you how much I'm enjoying this fill, a!a. I'm really looking forward to the next update!

Jesus this is chilling. More.

A!A is a god and I am willing to convert.

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Page 50 of 257

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

Re: Jonas/James

Re: Boone/FISTO - Cap-Operated Boy [2c/2]

Re: Boone/FISTO - Cap-Operated Boy [2c/2]

Re: Microfill: So Much For That.

Re: OP Autofill: Take a Bath, Legionnaries (1/1)

Re: Boone/FISTO - Cap-Operated Boy [1/2]

Re: Boone/FISTO - Cap-Operated Boy [2c/2]

Re: Any Pairing - Daddy Kink

Re: Keep Your Composure 11/?

Re: Any Pairing - Daddy Kink

Re: Any Pairing - Daddy Kink

The Darkest Evening, 1/1

Re: The Darkest Evening, 1/1

Re: Boone/FISTO - Cap-Operated Boy [2c/2]

Re: The Darkest Evening, 1/1

Re: OP Autofill: Take a Bath, Legionnaries (1/1)

Re: OP Autofill: Take a Bath, Legionnaries (1/1)

Re: Col. Moore/Cass meet at bar, snark it up, whiskey-fueled hook-up ensues

Re: The Darkest Evening, 1/1

More Good to Be Done 1/1 Microfill

Re: The Darkest Evening, 1/1

Re: Torch Songs 10/?

Re: Torch Songs 10/?

Re: Nothing Personal 3/?

Re: Deal Pt. 2/?