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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 13 days ago

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Hiii new follower here and i wanted to ask if you’d ever finished the Charon x virgin!reader fic? Im literally frothing at the mouth for him rn and your free use fic has me going insaneee

Firstly, thanks for the follow and thanks for checking out the blog! You picked a good time to ask, as I've spent the last couple days ironing out edits and filling in holes. I'm keeping to my word that I wouldn't give any more hard estimates on the publication date for fics, because I suck at it and am always wrong. Because of that, I can't say for sure that it'll be up in the next few days, but that's definitely what I'm shooting for.

What I can definitely offer you right now, though, is a preview.

Ringin' In the New Year

Pairing: Charon x Virgin!Female Vault Dweller (again, sorry I've been mislabeling it as "x Virgin!Reader")

Warnings: smut (18+), angst, loss of virginity, Charon's self-hatred and filthy thoughts, another "character's first 'real' orgasm" situation because I have a bit of a kink, mild canon-typical violence and discussion of bigotry, hand jobs, finger fucking, unprotected sex, mild cum play.

Notes: Please enjoy a few thousand words out of yet another over 10,000 word piece.

It was chilly outside as they made their way along what remained of the buckled, crumbled old sidewalk, though nowhere near the coldest he'd ever felt. Still, a slight breeze kicked up around them, dragging dust and light bits of trash along the street ahead. It whispered its way up her flowing skirt and sent her clutching her well-worn coat around her, shivering. He allowed himself to lengthen his stride a bit, trying his best to angle his body in a way that would block the wind while still keeping her in his field of vision. It was a cumbersome, slightly annoying way to walk, but they only had a block or so to go, and he hated to see her uncomfortable.

As they rounded the corner and came upon the shabby old motel, the barely-living neon sign's flickering glow beckoning warmly, he felt her carefully slip her small, cold hand into his.

The room was the very last in the row along the concrete upper floor. It wasn't very impressive, prewar and refurbished, but none of the places they stayed in ever were. Still, it was warm and relatively clean. There wasn't much by way of furniture, save for a heavily-stained bed, a pair of side tables whose stability he wouldn't gamble on, and a single chair against the wall. A pair of mismatched lamps with yellowed, musty shades provided some light, but the place was dim overall. What had once been a window had been tightly boarded up to seal out the wind and wet. There was technically an en-suite bathroom, or what had once been one, but it was little more than a dark alcove as Charon's eyes searched the shadows protectively. The toilet and tub were long gone, only ragged, rusty bits of the old drainage pipes remaining to even hint that they'd ever been there at all. A small bit of the old mirror still clung to the wall, scuffed and warped, and he avoided looking at himself as he turned back to face her.

"Tired?" he asked, setting their bags on the floor against the wall.

She hovered near the radiator in the corner, warming her hands as she rubbed her palms together. The tips of her nose and ears were pinkened as she gave a little yawn.

"No." she fibbed. It amused him.

"Liar."

The way she instantly held her nose high in haughty offense could've been perceived as anger, but he knew her better than that.

"Rude of you to say so." she shot back, doing a piss-poor job of hiding the smirk that played at her lips. "For your information, I could party all night long."

"Well. My apologies, then." he replied with teasing cordiality.

With that, he sunk carefully down into the single padded chair against the back wall, eyes still on her as she continued to warm herself. The old frame groaned a bit at his weight, but it held, so he sunk in further, relaxing as much as he was able. She was always chastising him to relax more.

For a while, things were quiet, but they weren't awkward. She eventually shed her coat, hanging it from a loose nail sticking out of the front door frame. He drank in the sight of her once more as she reached up, his gaze following the line of her back down to her plump ass. Inadvertently, he wondered how soft her supple thighs would feel if he ran his hands up them, pushing her skirt up over her hips; however, the thought was quickly banished, his eyes squeezing shut as he ran a disgruntled hand over the few bits of red hair that still clung to his head. As much as he enjoyed the small affections they'd begun to share, they only exacerbated the chronic sexual frustration he'd felt since they met.

Maybe after she fell asleep he'd excuse himself into the bathroom for a few minutes.

Trying his best to distract himself, he pulled his gun into his lap and checked it over for damage, polishing the body absentmindedly with an old, ripped piece of t-shirt he kept in his back pocket. She unclasped her Pip-Boy from her forearm, fiddling with the knob as she flipped through the radio stations, settling on a song he didn't recognize, slow and wordless. It was apparently familiar to her, though, as she hummed along easily, not missing a note as she sat on the edge of the bed to unlace her boots. His gaze burned into the wooden stock of his weapon as she stood again and bent at the waist, touching her toes in the first of her usual evening stretches. When they'd first begun to travel together, he'd shamelessly stared every night, but anymore he felt too seen by her to risk it.

He was focusing so hard on the gun that he'd begun to go a little cross-eyed by the time she sprung back towards the Pip-Boy, which she'd gently set atop one of the side tables. Snatching it up and examining the screen, she gasped.

"It's almost midnight!" she exclaimed.

Charon opened his mouth to reply, but was left wordless when, with an almost unsettling casualness, she moved to position herself between his knees, pivoting quickly and sitting herself lightly on his jutting knee as if he were some sort of irradiated Santa Claus. It truly shocked him just how easily she leaned close to him, shoulder pressing against his collar bone; it didn't shock him as much as her peppering his face with crisp, sweet kisses did, however. For ten full seconds, she pressed her lips against his cheeks, his forehead, his closed eyelids. Between his eyes, right above the gaping hole in his face where his nose had once been, not even seeming to notice the sloughing flesh. Outside, there was some ruckus, cheering and small-caliber gunshots and such, but the noise was almost entirely drowned out by the ringing in his ears.

"Happy New Year!" she cheered merrily as she pulled back, her smile so bright that it seemed to light everything around her in a halo.

Charon grinned bigger than he could ever remember, his face aching like it could split into pieces at the unfamiliar movement. He didn't know what to say. He didn't have anything to say, really, too overwhelmed by entirely foreign feeling of receiving so much affection at once. Every inch of him was tight with surprise and withheld tension from staring at her all evening. Thankfully, she seemed to have grown fairly familiar with how plugged up he could be, verbally and emotionally. But after a few beats, he still didn't know what to say, too afraid he'd say something off-putting, so he instead placed his hand softly against her lower back, massaging there gently, awkwardly.

Sure to maintain her balance on his knee, she leaned into his touch as much as she could. She was almost dead-even with his face as she sat straight, and there was a look in her eyes that he couldn't identify. Slowly, she raised one hand and placed it on his pitted cheek, her touch gentle, but surprisingly sure.

Then she leaned in and kissed him on the mouth.

They had never gone this far. Not that a kiss on the mouth was "far" between a normal man and woman, but he certainly was not a normal man, and she was no ordinary woman, with all her grace and warm kindness and her full, soft lips. They had shared a handful of kisses in the recent past, a habit initiated entirely by her; on the cheek, on the hand, on the corner of the mouth. Eventually, he found the courage to return the gesture, at least on occasion. When he felt particularly daring, he’d kiss her on the crown of her forehead, but that was as close as he got to her face. Always softly, often barely more than a brush as he feared he’d tear her soft skin open with his ragged lips.

God, her lips were soft against his own.

He should've been pulling away, he chastised himself harshly, stopping her from making this mistake. He should've reminded her that being with a ghoul would ruin her reputation, subject her to a hateful scorn unlike anything she’d ever experienced. He should've been protecting her like he would under any other circumstance instead of thinking with his dick.

Instead, he pressed back against her mouth with his, barely forcing his hands to stay at his sides as several quiet seconds passed.

The kiss was fairly chaste, but tender, and the pillowy feeling of her lips against his made his already growing erection twitch strongly in his leathers. After a few moments, she pulled back slowly, her eyes still closed as she withdrew her hand from his cheek. A little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. When that unknown glint in her eyes, she looked at him like she was seeing all the way into him.

“Thank you for taking care of me tonight. I know I didn’t make things easy on you.” she chuckled softly, and he nodded dumbly in reply.

The pink that had dusted her ears and nose before had moved down onto her cheeks.

"Alright, I'm gonna go change." she said quickly, pulling herself back to her feet and stretching her arms toward the ceiling before stooping to grab her bag up into her arms.

He nodded, eyes not leaving hers as she turned to pad softly across the threadbare rug. He couldn't stop himself from fully drinking her in as she walked away, tracing his gaze up from her delicate feet and ankles, to her curvy, strong legs and thighs. The way dress flowed down her curves and showed off parts of her arms and legs he couldn't usually see made him harden further, and he forced his eyes up to take in her soft shoulders and elegant neck, partially obscured by her long, wind-swept hair.

He wanted to fist his hand in it and kiss her again until she was breathless. He wanted to taste her.

She paused for a single beat when she reached the darkened doorway, throwing another unreadable look at him over her shoulder before smiling warmly and disappearing into the room. He lingered, frozen, in the chair for another moment, listening to the heavy thud of her dropping the backpack on the floor and padding across the worn tile with her bare feet.

She carries too much shit.

Once he forced himself to move again, he immediately began to fidget nervously, afraid he'd fucked up any number of times between when they'd left the bar and this very moment. Of course, if he had, she'd try her best to not let it show, so her overall pleasant reaction wasn't as reassuring as he'd have liked it to be. His sharp ears quickly picked up on the sound of her fiddling with snaps and zips, cloth rustling as she undressed herself. Though he still possessed enough shame to feel bad about it, his already-aching erection pulsed at the thought of her naked only a few feet away.

As he took a deep breath and dug a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, jamming one between his thin lips, he was stopped from lighting it by something else: the smell of her arousal.

The smell would have been pretty apparent for what it was, anyway, but he’d become very familiar with her personal scent in their past few months together. He'd almost always smell it at night; trying not to study her too closely as she shifted her thighs back and forth in her sleeping bag, catching a slight note of it when checking on her after she’d retired for the night during his watch. Sometimes he’d even smell it when she was sleeping.

Without his leave, his hands gripped at the arms of the chair in a search for an outlet for his rapidly mounting tension. His cock was fully erect, straining against its leather confinement. His head swam with the scent of her, with the image of how she’d looked all night, the feeling of her hands brushing him, her lips on his. The dry old wood creaked in protest as it bent slightly under his uncontrolled grip, and he quickly pulled his hands away, both of which ran over his face in exasperation. He was ready for her to sleep. He needed some alone time.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, however, all his plans were scattered to the winds.

"Charon." she called, her voice soft, timid.

It wasn't hard to imagine where she'd scrounged up the negligee, a sheer little thing that had seemingly once been black, faded in most spots to a dark heather grey. Maybe she'd even found it where she'd found the dress. Her posture was a little awkward as she stood in the bathroom doorway, the mild discomfort on her face making it plain that she was nervous. Still, that didn't dim the impact of how he could suddenly see almost all of her, his eyes unable to pick a single point to fixate on.

She looked breathtaking, so much so that it completely shut down his brain. The only thing he could force from between his lips split the air all wrong, slicing between them much more harshly than he'd intended:

"What are you doing?"

#this already took place on New Year's when I started it two or three years ago #scout's honor #charon fo3 #charon smut #charon x lone wanderer #charon x reader #charon x you #charon fo3 headcanons #fallout 3 #fo3 #submission

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