falloutkinkmeme_backup (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm
falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm
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.
- 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!
James/anyone: voice kink
(Anonymous) 2012-05-19 11:28 pm (UTC)(link)Courtesy of the Doctor; Micro-fill
(Anonymous) 2012-08-16 07:51 am (UTC)(link)Pairing: Arcade/James
_____________________
"It's just one box." Forget the fact that it was probably well over seventy pounds and dressed to the nines in a thick suit of dust. Arcade heaved the thing forward, grumbling about the unwieldy box's construction. Just one box. Who cares if you break your spine? A little dirt and tar in your lungs won't hurt. Do you really need fingers anyway? The trek to the storage room seemed longer than a Mojave day. Arcade managed a meager means of entertainment in the cruel mental soliloquy outlining his death by way of box-carrying. Just one box. Write it on my tombstone.
The still stagnant, yet fan cooled air inside was like a prize for the effort. "A+, Arcade, pat yourself on the - dammit." The box clattered out of sweat slickened palms only three feet from it's destination. Appreciate that one, karma. Arcade sat on the creaking wooden floor, the protest of his joints presenting itself in various cracks and pops. Yes, sitting, it's something we do sometimes. He reminded his body, which had seemingly forgotten. Looking back to the box with a sigh, he set it upright, dust clouding as he did so. Inhaling was cut short by a cough, a cough embellished to be ridiculously loud in the hope that Julie would hear. Mid-attention getting, his eyes fluttered to the box's contents. A number of holotapes were scattered across the floor surrounding the presumed damnably heavy holotape player. What did the Followers need with a bunch of (what appeared to be ridiculously old) holotapes? Curiosity killed the cat, but provided scientific discovery by means of its remains. That's how the saying goes, right? He popped a holotape into the machine and resumed fantasizing his own box induced mortality while it started up.
'Julie, Julie! Something's wrong with Arcade!' He imagined their panic at finding him unconscious, having inhaled too much dust. 'He's broken six of his fingers!' 'I shouldn't have made him do it!' Julie would be wracked with grief, 'It was just one-'
The fantasy was cut short by the sound churning out of the holotape player. Sex. Pure, hot sex was flowing from the speaker. Arcade sat up straighter before leaning in close, inches away from the machine as if to get even nearer to the man;s voice within. He spoke of research, research that made little sense to Arcade. But it wasn't the words, it was the tone. Deep, lingering. Shifting closer, Arcade noticed the nearly uncomfortable tightness in his pants. Smooth. Never be a courier, he chided himself internally, you can't even make a simple delivery without popping a boner. But the voice continued, and Arcade began to feel less ashamed every second, hands lingering on the button of his pants. Just have to be quick...
The door slammed open, bright Mojave sun near blinding Arcade as he scrambled to his feet, fists locked nonchalantly over his privates, foot giving a sharp kick to the machine to procure silence.
"Arcade?" Julie squinted in the doorway, her eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room. "Someone walking by said they heard a noise like a dying radscorpion in here, everything alright?" She looked from the mess on the floor to the man in the corner haphazardly shifting from one foot to the other.
"I..ah..dropped the box..on my foot." Arcade struggled through a response. Believable enough.
"Okay..." She cocked an eyebrow. "Well, hurry up. I mean, it's..."
"Just one box, yes. Thank you, Julie." She smiled her warm, eerily unreadable smile and shut the door. Stuffing the contents of the box hastily back, slipping a holotape in the pocket of his labcoat, Arcade sauntered back to his tent. Definitely sauntered. Didn't at all stagger along with a painfully obvious erection settled between his legs. No, Arcade Gannon is a man of class.
Re: Courtesy of the Doctor; Micro-fill
(Anonymous) 2012-08-16 10:58 am (UTC)(link)Re: Courtesy of the Doctor; Micro-fill
(Anonymous) 2012-08-16 06:56 pm (UTC)(link)Op here!
(Anonymous) 2012-08-19 04:34 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Courtesy of the Doctor; Micro-fill
(Anonymous) 2014-08-11 04:49 am (UTC)(link)Re: Courtesy of the Doctor; Micro-fill
(Anonymous) 2014-08-11 04:38 pm (UTC)(link)