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

You're viewing

falloutkinkmeme_backup's journal
Create a Dreamwidth Account Learn More

Reload page in style: site light

falloutkinkmeme_backup

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From: (Anonymous)

James Garret, surprisingly enough, wasn't one of those jealous bastards. He had commissioned the Courier to retrieve the sexbot and though it had only been for himself, he enjoyed the idea of other customers using FISTO's services.

He'd watch the customers hide their faces as they walked up the stairs to that dark little room. A red-haired cowgirl drunk on whiskey. A blonde hard ass sneaking out for a night from the dam. He imagined the way FISTO worked his icy talons between their thighs, working them with mechanical precision designed for the utmost pleasure. Sometimes he would make a point to walk by the room while FISTO was performing his programmed functions, and he would get a brief sound of turning chassis or creaking arm. It sent shivers up his spine to know his robot, his FISTO was being used and exploited.

The redhead would usually sleep after FISTO had already left, as shown by the imprint of crumpled sheets on her face when she would finally make her way downstairs.

But the blonde would leave immediately, outfit still looking freshly-pressed, with her glaring face only slightly softened. James Garret had watched her enough to know that that softened face was one of pure bliss.

From: (Anonymous)

However, it seemed that James was quite alone in his open-relationship thrills- FISTO himself did not at all enjoy the idea of multiple partners. Though he was programmed to administer pleasure to anyone able to pay for his services, FISTO admitted to himself that there was something special about Mr. Garret. Perhaps it was because James had been the first one to utilize FISTO's new and lascivious protocols, but there was something about the man that made FISTO want to give up his life of Protection and Service (though, he admitted to himself, lately it was more "service" than protection) and settle down with the strange and charming human, just the two of them. FISTO did not know much of human traditions, but he was a smart Protectron and he picked up bits and pieces from his clients. From what he gathered, feelings of intense possessiveness were normal outcomes of sexual relations- the fight that had broken out between his three best customers was a testament to that. All of them fighting to claim possession over him. FISTO himself often felt violent impulses towards patrons when he sensed them being overly flirtatious with his James, but a bit of aggressive beeping was usually a well enough (and non-violent) way to chase them off.

FISTO was quite positive the feelings were mutual. It was not unusual for him to detect James skulking around whatever room he was servicing a guest in, conspicuously walking by with heavy footfalls. It was as if James wanted him to know. Wanted FISTO to know that no matter who he was with, no matter what other human was rutting against him and using various parts of himself to stuff into their own various orifices, James was always there. He was always always there because above all his other duties, above his title as Protectron and even sexbot, he was Jame's Garret's property. And the idea of being owned, the thought that James might someday burst into his room and declare to FISTO that from that moment on HE, and only he, would be the one to receive FISTO's services, well... the thought alone was enough to send tingling sparks firing up and down FISTO's inner circuitry.

From: (Anonymous)

Fisto could hear the chaos of another fight as he waited for his next customer. He hoped by the time the bouncers broke it up, they would all still be intact. Humans were such strange and fragile creatures. This emotion called jealousy, no matter how he tried, he just couldn't understand it.

The fighting made Fisto's metal heart break, but he couldn't let it show. He owed it to the next weary soul who sought comfort in his arms to put on a brave face. It was the only thing he had to offer them besides one mind blowing orgasm after another.

Sweet Vulpes, noble Boone, gentle Arcade and of course, darling James---when would you learn? There was no need to damage each other. He was programmed for their pleasure, to spread love and not hate—he could service two, sometimes three and even four at a time if he needed to.

There was enough of Fisto for everyone.

From:

falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com

I just want to hold all your in my arms. You are all impeccable, wonderful human beings who write pure joy.

From: (Anonymous)

NCR guys didn’t often patronize the Wrangler. That this one did might have to do with the rumours about FISTO. Now FISTO might have been proud of this, but pride was nothing that featured in his metallic, yet gentle mind.

He asked timidly for some companionship. Something... special. James, a knowing smile on his face, knew when discretion was at order and assured the young soldier he knew the perfect match and offered him the key to FISTO’s room, special rate for first-time customers. The soldier, recognisable as one despite the civilian clothing, simply by the way he walked and held himself, all but slinked up the stairs, opened the door and hastily closed it behind him.

James polished a glass, whistling under his breath.

FISTO wasn’t very empathetic, it wasn’t his nature. But he was programmed for pleasure, and could recognise a body’s physical signals for pleasure, pain, or fear. This one as drenched in cold sweat, had an increased heart rate without being aroused, was kneading his trembling hands.

“FISTO aims to please”, he said in what was his most gentle and reassuring voice. “Please, assume the position.”
“What... what is the position?”
FISTO explained patiently. His adaptive software that made him capable of expanding his repertoire that by now a wide variety of options to offer to those who remained uncomfortable when confronted with the standard program.
And since FISTO was also very patient, he waited until the customer had made his decision, and proceeding slowly but with gentle determination, FISTO extended his pincers and got to work.

Having been reduced to a gasping, sweating mess by FISTO’s attentions it took the soldier a while before he could put his clothes back on and leave the room. He locked it behind him, leaving FISTO feeling very pleased with himself, and staggered down the stairs towards the bar where James waited, a glass in his hand.

“A double vodka”, the soldier said, his voice slightly shaking. “And I don’t even like the stuff.”
James turned around and picked a bottle from the shelf. “You’re first time in Vegas?”
“No... not exactly. Just... just the first time here. In the Wrangler, I mean.”
“Ah.” He unscrewed the bottle. “Where is it that you’re stationed?”
The soldier blushed a deep crimson and stared at his hands. “Mojave Outpost, but please keep that to yourself. I have to work there, you know.”
“Of course.” James filled the glass with a very generous measure and shoved it across the counter. “Here. On the house.”