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falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm
falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm
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Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.
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Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (34/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-04-01 01:41 pm (UTC)(link)He’s young, so young, older than she had been when the Legion came, older than Birdy is now for sure, but still practically a boy. But he has a gun leveled at her, lip trembling, eyes wide, and she whacks the barrel away as he discharges it, shoots his bullet into the roof with an eardrum-shattering boom. She wrenches the gun from his hands, tosses it aside, and wrestles him around.
“You will go to the town square without incident,” Lucinda growls into his ear, keeps his arm pinned, twisted, pressed between their bodies. Two little boys peek out from behind a doorframe, eyes wide, and Lucinda looks the larger in the eye. “Bring your brothers with you.”
“Yes, yes,” he agrees, voice catching. “Please don’t hurt them, please, please, I can’t let them--”
“I won’t hurt them,” Lucinda growls. “Now you give me some information. Which houses have guns?”
“I don’t know,” he says, tries to jerk his head at his brothers to tell them to hide again.
“Yes you do,” Lucinda replies, leans her weight on him a little more, until he squeaks and gasps. “Which houses?”
“I don’t have to-” he starts.
“I said I wouldn’t hurt them but I said nothing about you.” She twists just a bit harder.
“Three houses up, blue door,” he whines.
“What kind of gun?”
“I don’t know!”
“Yes you do,” Lucinda replies. Keeps her voice level, listens to the room. The gun is still where it fell, the radio buzzes so low in the corner she can’t make out any words, outside her raven kronks once and then falls silent again.
“Like yours,” he finally wibbles after a long, near-silent second. “Lever action, but smaller.”
“Thank you,” Lucinda says, lets her actual thanks-smile leak into it. “Now, come with me. You too, boys, we aren’t going far, I won’t hurt you.”
“Come on,” he calls to his brothers, who lean out around the doorframe again.
“If you’ll just come with me,” Lucinda says to the boy, lets go of his arm, circles around so he’s in front of her, swings her rifle around so he’s at the end of the barrel. “That would be peachy.”
“Where are we going?” he asks, starts walking when her rifle bumps his back.
“The main square,” Lucinda replies. “You’ll stay there until we’re done.”
“How many of you are there?” He asks. Tries to couch it as a casual question, as if it’s not obvious what he’s doing.
“More than enough,” Lucinda replies. “Now pipe down.”
There are four of them in this shack: an old woman with a shotgun, arms withered but her expression hard; a man Twist’s age, probably, holding a screaming infant in one arm; a woman Siri’s age under his other arm, tear tracks down her face and dark circles under her eyes.
The old woman fires the shotgun as Lucinda steps through the door, sends Lucinda staggering back a moment before she hurls herself forward again, gets her hand around the barrel and wrenches it away.
“You’ll damn yourself for sure if you try that again,” Lucinda growls, gets into the old woman’s face.
“I didn’t make it this long so you Legion sorts,” the old woman grabs Lucinda’s centurion scarf, yanks her forward so they’re chest to chest, “could kill my daughter and granddaughter.”
“Then if you’re lucky, they won’t draw short straws, since you’ve already damned yourself into decimation.” Lucinda shoves the old woman back, and she staggers before toppling to the floor. “Get up, all of you are going to the town square. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
“We’ll never bow to the Legion,” the old woman spits, gets up on her elbows as her son-in-law, apparently, tries to help without letting go of his wife. “Never.”
“If you two would go to the town square.” Lucinda turns to the couple with the baby. “That would be best. Don’t try anything funny.”
The woman nods, tugs her husband along. They nearly flee the house, hand in hand, heads down, the baby making soft noises of distress that turn into wails as they go down the street.
“You, come with me. You don’t go anywhere without a guard.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” the old woman replies, crosses her arms over her chest.
Lucinda sighs, bends down, and hauls her upright by the armpit.
“Let’s go,” she grunts.