#NICHOLAS ALEXANDER chavez fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iamsebastiansstan · 3 months ago

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broke you just to own you - NAC x fem!reader

summary - He’s like a man possessed, and he’s come to hunt down what is rightfully his: her first explosive full-body orgasm, the one she promised him, the one that seals his ownership over her sex, the one she’s desperate to give him. wc - 5k - MINORS DNI!

warnings - nasty nasty dirty talk, squirting, pussy slapping, MENTIONS of pee but only because he's so gone in the moment that he says something fucked up to make her cum, cockwarming, loving humiliation hehe

A/N - welcome to my depraved mind, we're only getting started. thank y'all for your continuous support and feedback, means a lot! love you, hope you enjoy <333

taglist - @hoffmansgirl / @blackynsupremacy / @emluvsuxo / @urlitttlevenicebitch / @niteskysx / @lalavenderangel / @nicholaschavezbby / @motherismotheringggg

PART 3 - SERIES MASTERLIST !

Bleary-eyed and messy-haired she stumbles down the stairs, crabby at having woken up all by herself in bed instead of wrapped up in his arms. She hears voices coming from the kitchen and follows that sound, finding Nicholas and Cooper sitting at the counter, sharing leftover fries and laughing about one thing or another.

Without saying a word, she steps up to Nicholas and buries her face in his neck, unabashed in her neediness, and whimpers when he immediately goes to hold her against him tightly.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, “you grumpy?” He chuckles through her nod. “’m here now, (Y/N).”

“Never mess with her post-nap,” Cooper provides helpfully, “or you’ll regret it.”

“Is that so?” Nicholas asks, the smirk evident in his voice, as he pulls her away to look her in the eye. “What’ll happen if I do?”

She glares at him, puts as much heat as possible behind it, making him have to suppress a laugh.

“I don’t think you’re brave enough to find out,” Cooper winks before getting up to fix her a plate of leftovers. “You must be starving.”

She nods. “Yeah. And ‘m cold.”

Nicholas immediately wraps her up in his arms, pulls her back against his chest, the sleeves of his hoodie warm on her exposed skin. Together they watch Cooper walk around the kitchen.

“You got any plans till Wednesday?” he whispers in her ear, making her shudder as he kisses the shell of it softly. She shakes her head no. “Good, because Cooper is letting me kidnap you to my place until you have to leave.”

Feeling her heart rate pick up and hoping he doesn’t notice, she turns to look at him.

“Really?”

“Really. I’ve got all the time in the world and you still in my system. I… I can’t let you go, (Y/N), not yet. ‘s that okay with you?”

She nods eagerly and pulls him in to press a hard kiss against his mouth, not deepening it but letting him know just how good she thinks his idea is. Cooper interrupts them by putting the plate in front of them, clearing his throat as he does so.

“You’ll come see me one more time before your flight, though, right?” he asks, and she softens at the sweetness in his eyes.

Pulling away from Nick, she steps into Cooper’s arms, hugging him tight.

“Of course. And as soon as my classes are done, I’ll be back here. Or you can come visit me!”

“We’ll arrange something for sure,” he mumbles against her shoulder before letting her step away to eat her dinner.

Soon enough she’s packing her suitcase, putting things she’ll be needing at Nick’s place in an extra bag so she can reach for them easier. She’s glad he’s decided to stay downstairs because she needs a moment to herself, needs to reflect on everything going on inside of her when she thinks about these past couple of days. Things seem to be going fast, they’re extremely intense, but she doesn’t think she minds. He makes her feel good, treats her well, fucks her like nobody has fucked her before and she sees no issue in basking in this situation for as long as she can.

It's not like she’s using him, not more than he is using her, at least. All the status symbols he possesses- the money, the fame, his job title- none of them matter to her, all she wants is him. No shame in that, she tells herself, silently checking the room to make sure nothing is forgotten. Even if, she’ll be back here in no time. That thought alone excites her more than she thought it would.

It doesn’t take long for Nick to get her stuff into his car, for her to hug Cooper goodbye, and then it’s just the two of them on the drive to his place, music playing softly.

“You had a good nap, at least?” he asks, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

She’s taking in her surroundings, the lights of the city bright through the darkness of the evening.

“Yeah,” she smiles, “I really needed it. You wore me out.”

He grins at that, shameless, takes her hand in his and kisses the back of it. It makes her stomach flutter.

“How’s your body feeling?”

“I’m wired,” she chuckles, “sore, but… y’know.”

A raise of an eyebrow, a tilt of the mouth, his question, “What?”

Feeling heat crawl up her neck, she decides to be truthful. “I could go again.”

The sound he makes is less of a chuckle and more of a groan, although a mix of both, and she wishes there was a discreet way to rub her thighs together.

“I’ve got plans for us, baby,” he smiles, doesn’t take his eyes off the road, “and most of them include fucking you over and over again. Are you okay with that?”

She nods, throat dry, knowing he isn’t looking at her, knowing he can see her reaction anyway.

“Yeah? You okay with me sending you home with a swollen, come-filled pussy?”

“Fucking hell, Nicholas,” she exhales, turning away from him to drive a shaky hand over her face, already greedy for it.

Through a smile he says, “Answer me, (Y/N).”

Swallowing feels like nails are scraping down her throat, but she does anyway, speaks, “Y-yeah, I’m absolutely okay with it. Need it.”

He hums.

“That you do, little girl,” he says, more to himself than to her, as he pulls into his driveway. "That you do."

When he’s parked his car, he immediately grabs her by the neck, pulls her into a searing kiss that leaves her whimpering in his mouth, pressing closer to get at him better, get the full taste of him, but too soon for her liking he’s pulling away, opening his door and getting out. She’s breathing hard, trying to collect herself, when he opens her door and helps her step out, ever the gentleman.

He grabs her stuff from the trunk and leads the way inside, her eyes widening at how beautiful his place is- warm colors and tasteful decorations, lots of windows to let the California sun in during the day. She adores it already. The house tour he gives her is quick, but she appreciates that he takes the time to do so anyways. Nicholas sets her suitcase down in the bedroom before gathering her in his arms.

“Wanna shower together?” he asks, kisses her after she gives him a nod.

The air around them is crackling with tension, although she feels comfortable in it, knowing it’ll pay off to be patient and go at the pace he’s set. She hasn’t known him long, but if there’s one thing she knows, it’s that there’s a reason for and a certain kind of expertise in everything he is doing, and he always exceeds her expectations.

Her stomach is in knots from all the excitement.

The way he undresses her is unhurried, isn’t even sexual, closed lips pressed against hers and a smile on his face. He makes sure the water is warm, makes sure her hair is up and out of the way, before he pulls her in after him, lets the water soak them both while they giggle into each other’s mouths.

Choosing from his collection of expensive shower gels isn’t easy, but she picks a vanilla scented one, groaning as his strong hands massage it into the tense lines of her back.

“You’re good at that,” she whispers, knows he’ll hear her over the noise of the shower stream.

He steps away to let the water rinse the foam off before pressing a kiss to her shoulder, turning her around to continue washing her front, her doing the same with his gorgeously toned torso. When it comes to washing their private areas, they each do it to themselves, grinning at each other at the strangely mundane way they’re behaving.

“And here I was, hoping to get my hand near your ass,” he pretend-sulks, laughing at the smack she delivers to his chest.

“Not like this, Mister!”

Her heart feels full when he towels her off, hands her his fancy body lotion with a raised brow, lotions her back after she does the same for him. She likes that they smell the same now, with a hint of themselves. Soon they’ll smell like themselves, with a hint of the other.

Back in his bedroom, he walks to his closet and pulls out a pair of briefs, pulls them up his muscular legs, fitting them snugly around his crotch. He slides the doors of his wardrobe closed, revealing huge mirrors on the wood, facing the bed.

Unsure, she moves to her suitcase to get her own underwear when he stops her in her tracks, “No, you stay naked. Get rid of the towel.”

Biting her lip, she does as he asks and pulls the material away from her body, hangs it on the doorknob. Standing there in front of him, stark naked as his eyes move up and down her frame, makes her toes curl in anticipation. If she were to reach out and touch her pussy right now, her fingers would come away wet.

“Fuckin’ stunning,” Nicholas breathes, leaning in to kiss her deeply, already letting his tongue come out to play with hers. She moans as he kisses over her jaw and down to her neck, licking a stripe up her skin until he reaches her ear, whispers, “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” she confirms immediately, nodding shakily. “Always.”

His smile is small yet dirty, enjoying her admission immensely.

Hand in hand they walk to the bed, Nicholas letting himself fall onto the soft mattress and pulling her down until she’s seated between his thighs, her back to his chest, feeling the rise and fall of every calm breath.

Her eyes shut on their own accord when he starts kissing her neck from behind, nibbling at the skin softly, just how she likes. Smaller hands grip the forearms he’s got around her waist, making him tighten them, making her feel his body right there behind hers.

“Hey, open your eyes,” he whispers, nips at her earlobe, “look at us.”

Confused, she does as he tells her to before the realization hits her: she sees them, right in front of her, his thick thighs framing her hips, her legs open and pussy on display, their arms clutching each other, their faces red.

Embarrassment grips her, then, the lewd image of herself entirely new to her, but when she goes to closer her legs on instinct, his hands are there to keep them apart.

“No, don’t do that. I want you to look at yourself. What do you see?”

His voice is warm and encouraging yet holds an edge of authority, causing her stomach to clench. She wants to fight his command almost as much as she wants to fight her shame, and in the end, she wins the fight against the latter. She widens her legs again, looks at herself, bites her lip shily.

“I see… us. How good we look, how well we fit together.”

“Mhm. What else?”

An inhale, an exhale, she pushes on.

“I see my pussy… how wet you make me. I’ve been clenching since we got out of the shower,” she chuckles, a tinge of ridicule in her tone, “I’m so fucking desperate for you, and I’ve already had you today.”

He hums, letting two of his long, capable fingers drive through her slick folds, making her exhale harshly.

“You’re dripping, baby,” he notes, almost absent-mindedly. “But I want you wetter. I need you to be completely relaxed for what I’m gonna do to you tonight, okay?”

“W-what’s that?”

Unexpectedly he pushes those two fingers deep into her, curls them, punches a spot inside of her that has her entire body freeze up, staring at him through the mirror with wide eyes.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” he soothes, pets at her until she relaxes enough to let him pull out, hand resuming the stroking from before. “I wanna make you come on my hand, (Y/N). You see what you did just now, how you clamped your pussy shut around me? Can’t have that.”

He doesn’t scold her, she knows, he’s stating the truth, but still, she feels vulnerable, feels admonished, eyes welling up with tears.

“’m sorry, Nick, I’m just not used to it, I don’t think I can-“

“Hey, hey, none of that, baby,” he shushes her, takes his hands off her privates and wraps his arms around her tightly, clean hand finding her face and stroking along the soft skin of her cheek. “There’s nothing wrong with being nervous, sweetheart, okay? You just tell me if you want this, and I’ll make it happen. I can get your body to do anything I want it to; you just need to let me guide you through it.”

She chuckles softly, presses a kiss to his lips. “Awfully confident, are we?”

Nicholas’ expression is serious as he says, “Look, (Y/N), I know it’s bad etiquette to talk about this, but I mean it. I have so much fucking experience with this, and I want to show you what your body can do, what you get to do for me if you just give in, okay? You trust me, yeah?”

Enchanted, she stares into his deep brown eyes, the kindness they exude, nodding dumbly.

“Good girl,” he kisses her, then, a lot of tongue and some sharp teeth, before guiding her to lean back against him, to open her legs and resume the position they were in mere minutes ago.

“Fuck,” she exhales as she watches his right hand move over her most intimate parts, as his left hand holds hers against her stomach, watches how he’s just stroking between her outer and inner lips before moving along her slit, alternating like that.

“She’s so gorgeous,” he says, right next to her ear, “and so sweet. Sweetest pussy I’ve ever had, I swear. The way she cries for me, fuck… I wanna make her drench me.”

His words make her want to double over with want, make her want to claw at her skin, create new ways for him to enter her system, stay there and corrupt her from the inside out.

“It’ll make a mess, though,” she pipes up, her eyes trained on where he’s playing between her hips, same as his, “your poor bed.”

He chuckles, kisses her shoulder. “This may feel like a fuzzy blanket, but it’s actually a waterproof cover.” A laugh escapes him at her accusingly surprised face. “Told you I’ve got plans, baby. Plans require, well, planning.”

“Unbelievable,” she groans, no heat behind it.

“What can I say, I love catching you off guard,” he smiles before focusing back on touching her, keeping the sensation light. “What else do you see, c’mon, tell me.”

She huffs, swirling her hips and getting more comfortable.

“You’re such a talker,” she snaps weakly, yelps when he pinches the inside of her thigh.

“Gets you wet as fuck, though, doesn’t it?” She nods reluctantly. “Exactly, and that’s what I need you to be for this to work. C’mon, now, say it.”

Nicholas puts his fingers in a v-shape, pulls her pussy up so the skin of her hood is out of the way, so her clit is exposed for him to see. Her stomach turns, the nervousness at being studied so intently getting to her.

“Ugh, m-my clit is so… swollen. She wants to be touched, w-wants to come.”

He chuckles, grazes the very tip of a finger on his other hand against her nub, holds her tightly through the shudder that passes through her.

“So hard f’me,” he whispers, tortures her with that one digit. “But we won’t use her to make you come tonight, will we, (Y/N)?”

“N-no,” she stammers, throws her head back for a second before looking back up.

“What will we use, tell me.”

“M-my spot,” she breathes, delirious with want, feeling her cunt clench around nothing as it pushes her wetness out. “Gonna come from my- my spot.”

“That’s right,” he husks into her ear, the praise making her skin erupt in a blush as he moves the v of his fingers down to spread her apart, moves a finger to her opening to tease it slightly. Looking straight at the slight gape of herself where he’s holding her open makes her mewl, resisting a thrash against his body. “This is where I’ll fuck into tonight, baby. This is what you’ll give me… you see how you’re gushing already?”

She nods before looking away, burying her face in the side of his neck, unable to look anymore. Shame curls along her spine, shame at being inspected like this, touched like this, shame at loving it so much she could start drooling. And the way he talks about her, sexual in an almost clinical way, God, how does he know just how to get under her skin? She never dared to admit how that objectification, that humiliation, made the spring inside of her core coil just on the right side of too tight.

“Hey, no, don’t do that,” he commands but she ignores him, whines into the sweat-slick skin of his neck while shaking her head no, ignores him until he pulls his hand back and delivers a soul-ripping smack to the oversensitive skin of her pussy, his palm connecting with her center and making a sharp slapping sound.

“Fuck!” she screams, throws herself against his chest as her toes curl, the pent-up tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. The ringing in her ears makes her feel like she’s losing her mind.

Nicholas holds her through it, of course, manhandles her so she opens up for him again, so she settles down and breathes in sync with him, so she calms down and surrenders to the game he’s playing with her body.

“When I tell you to look, you look,” he pants into her ear, tightens his arms around her until she feels like she can breathe again, “and when you don’t, I hurt you like you need to be hurt to finally fucking let me do what you’re craving me to do, okay? Do you fucking understand me, (Y/N)?”

She nods through a sob as he shakes her condescendingly, pushes herself back against him to feel the hard line of his body right behind her, needing to be as close to him as possible.

“Good girl, you’re my good little girl,” he whispers to her, reverence evident in his tone as he strokes her hair back from her sweaty face, as he kisses the tears away from her cheeks, kisses her drooling mouth softly. “Now describe your sloppy cunt to me, c’mon.”

She looks, opens her mouth to say something, groans as more tears leave her eyes.

“Fuck… Fuck, I can’t! I can’t, I’m so embarrassed, I-“

“Shhh, I know you are, baby, but this shit gets you hot, doesn’t it? Makes you so fucking horny for it, huh?”

She nods, unable to do much else, as he coaxes the filth right out of her.

“Baby, I need you to leave the shame at the door when you’re with me. I want you completely unhinged for me, I need you to give me that, do you understand me? I wanna, fuck, I wanna fuck you up, baby, wanna- need’a do bad, bad fuckin’ things to you.”

She’s been so engrossed with how she’s feeling that she never stopped to think about just how effected he is by this whole ordeal, but now it’s glaringly obvious in the way his words seem to rip right out of his chest, the way he stutters over them like even he can’t believe that this is what he wants, the way his breathing is labored and his body is rigid and how he’s keeping her back arched just enough so she wouldn’t be able to rub herself against his cock, his cock that is probably hot-red and leaking with need.

Taking strength from his vulnerability, she lets go, then, lets her mouth run wild with the fantasy she’s often had but never dared to voice out loud, scared of being the dirty girl he wants her to be for him. But this ends now. She’s not scared anymore now, not with him.

“She’s fucking pulsing for you, Nicholas, she needs you,” she whines, a breath punching out of her when he sinks two impossibly thick fingers into her, hooks them slightly for a pinch of the pressure but mainly gives her a delicious stretch. “I wanna feel you in my fuckin’- my fuckin’ stomach, my lungs, my- I don’t know, everywhere at the same time, fill me and claim me and rub your cock all over me so I smell like your come, so I’m- fuck, Nicholas, fuck!”

Crying comes easy to her, whole body feeling like a raw nerve as he shushes her, praises her, my dirty fucking girl, that’s it, give in, let me have you like this, holy shit (Y/N), yes baby, all the while his fingers are wreaking havoc on her insides.

“(Y/N), I need you to listen to me for a second, can you do that?” he asks, slowing his ministrations down until he’s just lazily fingering her, making her feel him but not overwhelming her with the sensation.

She nods dumbly, locks eyes with him through the mirror, doesn’t dare look away.

“’m listenin’,” she mumbles, purses her lips to kiss at his forearm that’s holding her down.

“I’m gonna have to fuck you really hard for you to come for me like this, okay? You’ll scream, and you’ll cry, and you’ll beg me to stop, but I won’t. We need a word for when you really need me to stop, though, okay? For emergencies.”

“Like- like a safe word?” she asks, eyes glazing over at the prospect of him ignoring her pathetic pleas until she exercises her full power and makes him stop.

The smile he gives her is full of pride, knowing. “Exactly, a safe word.”

Thinking is hard, her thoughts flowing slow like molasses, but she mumbles out, “How about red? Classic traffic light system.”

Nicholas kisses her then, a smile on his lips, presses close and smooches every inch of her face he can reach.

“My perfect girl, yes, we’ll do that. Red for when you need me to stop, and if that’s not the word you use, I won’t, okay?”

She nods, pussy clenching at what that means, how intense it’s going to be. If she had the energy to freak out, she probably would, would let her pulse spike and her chest constrict with anxiety, but her entire being is currently reduced to being Nicholas’ little plaything, to keeping herself pliant for him to work into.

His fingers find their way deep inside her again, find that spongy spot that has never been the cause of pleasure for her until he came and turned her world upside down, her body inside out.

Holding back her moans is not even an option as she watches him work her expertly, gaze switching between the point of view from above- where his palm is visible and slapping against her sensitive flesh, where his arm is flexing where it’s mustering up the strength to really abuse the pink insides of her pussy- and the view in the mirror, the front- where the veiny back of his hand is covering her most intimate part, the sight of her thighs shaking along the insides of his legs as he drives into her, obscene noises filling the room along with their heavy breaths.

A squelching noise reaches her ears, then, disgusting in its intensity but gut-wrenchingly hot in its obscenity, and she shuts her eyes tightly when he points it out, chuckles in her ear dirtily.

“You hear that, baby?” he grins, licks into her ear, “Your little spot filling up for me? God, you’re so fucking tight, getting so full… You’ll explode soon, huh? Just a liiittle bit more, c’mon.”

It’s a strange sensation, one that starts in her stomach and makes its way down, seemingly wrapping around her ovaries and forcing her to cramp her insides shut, fight against the onslaught of pleasure.

“Let it happen, (Y/N), don’t try to push me out.”

“C-can’t,” she whines, writhes and thrashes against his chest, kicks her leg out before he quickly reels her in, puts his stronger legs over hers and holds her steady, locked down against his hard muscle. “I’ll- Nick, I’m gonna pee, I don- I don’t wanna pee, I- I can’t-“

“You’re not going to, baby, you-“

“Please, please no more, Nick- hng- please, I’m gonna- no, baby, no-“

The movement of his hand increases and he’s really working his whole arm now, pushing at that spot inside of her, assaulting it with such precision and vigor that it makes her sick with desperation, stomach turning when she notices that she can’t keep it in, no matter how hard she tries. He’s like a man possessed, and he’s come to hunt down what is rightfully his: her first explosive full-body orgasm, the one she promised him, the one that seals his ownership over her sex, the one she’s desperate to give him.

Before she knows it, it’s escaping her: the wet flow of her juices, triggered only by his coaxing, only by the motions of his capable fingers inside of her, soaking his palm slowly but surely.

“Fucking let go for me, baby,” he grits through clenched teeth, brows furrowed as his laser-focused eyes look at her through the mirror, “you won’t pee, that’s just the wetness that’s been building up inside you, my sweet, because this little cunt hasn’t been treated right, has it, hasn’t been fucked like she deserves to be fucked, hasn’t been fuckin’ emptied out like she needs, huh? Ain’t that right, baby? It isn’t pee, don’t be shy, don’t worry.”

Just as she’s about to beg him to unhand her, her insecurity-riddled delirium putting that one word at the very tip of her tongue, the one word that will make him listen, he crashes her system with his hushed words, “And even if it was, you think I’d give a fuck? You think I wouldn’t lap up everything your body gives me, everything your pleasure-drunk cunt gives up for me? I wanna fucking break you, even if it means fucking the piss out of you,” he hisses, words barely audible over the way she screams as she lets go, her control snapping as her pussy sprays from the depth of her body and covers his hand, covers the bed, makes her see stars from how hard she’s clamping up, every single muscle in her body coiled tight.

It feels like it goes on forever.

It travels through her pussy, shakes her core all the way through her stomach up to her empty lungs, scratches at her throat and makes her eyes roll back. Even when he pulls out, lets go of her completely- only his chest against her back- she feels him still, feels that immense pressure inside of her not letting up.

Her hands fly up to cover her face as she starts to cry, heavy sobs wracking her entire body, and it only barely registers when he moves from behind her, lays her down so he can be right next to her, no point of their bodies touching except the hand he’s got in her hair. Nicholas isn’t even shushing her, not this time, instead just letting her cry it out as he provides a grounding presence, a slight pull of her hair so she can have something to focus on.

Time passes, but she doesn’t rush herself, couldn’t even if she tried. She lets her body calm down by itself, lets the sobs subside until they’re mere sniffles, until the breathless gasps for air turn into small hiccups. Only then does he scooch closer to wrap his arms around her, pulling her into his sweat-soaked chest and rocking her back and forth, legs tangled together, his face in her hair.

“You’re incredible,” he chokes out, and when she looks up, his eyes are full of unshed tears, pride oozing out of every pore of his being. “God, (Y/N)… Fuck.”

He pulls her in again and she lets herself be held, gives him the time to come down himself, the control he had over her body and how tight he had to hold onto it surely exhausting for his system.

“I’m so proud of you. So fucking proud. What you just gave me, that was… fuck, baby. My baby.”

“Yours,” she gasps, launches her entire body into his in hopes of being able to crawl under his skin, to wrap herself around his bones so she’d be a part of him forever, even when all that’s left of him is that ivory color and a sliver of her soul.

Their tongues meet messily, desperately, consuming each other with shallow breath, but they don’t take it further. He’s exhausted everything she had to give him for tonight, and he knows it, doesn’t push her past any more limits. She’s grateful for that unspoken decision, although the need to feel him inside of her, satisfy him physically after enriching him emotionally, keeps gnawing at her.

“Baby, baby,” she whispers, grabs his face and digs her nails into his soft cheeks, licks at his bottom lip, “sleep inside of me.”

The widening of his eyes would be comical if it weren’t a moment so sensual.

“You want me to?”

“I can’t- I need it, I can’t have you just outside. You belong inside.”

Her chin starts to tremble at her disorganized thoughts, the inability to get her tongue to form the words properly, but Nicholas shushes her, understands exactly what she means, and he pulls down his underwear to free his cock, hikes her leg up his hip and glides inside of her with one hard thrust.

It feels as if she’s being lit on fire from the inside, but she bears it, takes it for him and for herself, and cuddles closer into his arms.

“I might want to fuck you during the night, baby.”

She nods. “You can. Not now, but later, I’ll wan’ it again. I need your come, Nicholas.”

“Fuck, you’re so sweet, my sweetest girl,” he whispers, kisses her one more time before settling down, nestled deep within her folds.

Sleep overtakes her then, pulls her under, and all she wants to dream about is this moment right here, lasting forever.

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nicnak20 · 8 days ago

Text

Unprotected; Charlie Mayhew:

*Charlie has sex with a patient who's unaware.*

{Mentions of rape and unwanted pregnancy as a result of the rape.}

In the sterile confines of St. Mary's General Hospital, the fluorescent lights buzzed like distant cicadas, casting a clinical glow over the rows of identical rooms. Yn lay in bed 12B, her body a fragile map of IV lines and monitors, her mind a foggy haze of half-remembered dreams. At nineteen, she was caught between the innocence of youth and the sharp edges of adulthood, her life upended by an accident that had left her unconscious for days.

The doctors had called it a "minor surgical complication," but Yn knew little beyond the ache in her bones and the emptiness in her chest.

She was the girl Lois had mentioned—that much Yn pieced together from the fragments of conversations she overheard. Lois, a fellow patient and unlikely confidante, had whispered about her in the hallway, painting Yn as the quiet one, the one who kept to herself. Yn didn't mind; she preferred the shadows, where her kind heart and gentle nature could bloom without scrutiny. But now, in this hospital bed, everything felt exposed.

Dr. Charlie Mayhew was her assigned physician, a man whose presence filled the room like a warm breeze. With his dark brown hair slicked back neatly and his kind brown eyes that seemed to hold endless patience, he was the epitome of the caring doctor.

Yn had met him briefly before the accident—a routine check-up where he'd listened to her concerns with unwavering attention, his voice a soothing balm. "You're in good hands here," he'd said, and she'd believed him. He was smart, charming, and professional, traits that made him feel like a guardian in this unfamiliar world.

As Yn stirred awake that morning, her thoughts drifted to her family. Her parents were due to visit later, but for now, the room was hers alone. She adjusted the thin hospital gown, feeling the cool air against her skin, and tried to shake off the lingering disorientation. That's when Dr. Mayhew entered, his white coat crisp, a clipboard in hand. His smile was gentle, disarming.

"Good morning, Yn," he said, his voice warm and steady. "How are you feeling today?"

She managed a small smile, her heart fluttering with gratitude. "A bit better, I think. Still tired, but... thank you for checking on me."

He pulled up a chair beside her bed, his movements deliberate and caring. "That's progress. You've been through a lot. The surgery went well, but we need to monitor you closely." His eyes met hers, full of that trademark understanding. Yn felt a wave of trust wash over her; he was the one constant in this chaos.

They chatted for a few minutes—about her studies, her dreams of becoming a teacher, the little things that made her who she was. Charlie listened intently, nodding with genuine interest, his presence a comforting anchor. It was easy to forget, in those moments, that he was her doctor and not a friend.

But then, his expression shifted. The warmth in his eyes dimmed slightly, replaced by a professional gravity. "Yn, there's something we need to discuss. From your blood work and the scans, we've detected... a pregnancy."

The word hung in the air like a foreign intruder. Yn blinked, her mind scrambling to process it. Pregnancy? Her? At nineteen? She felt a laugh bubble up in her throat, but it died as reality set in. "Wait... no. That can't be right. Dr. Mayhew, I... I'm a virgin. That's not possible."

Tears sprang to her eyes unbidden, hot and stinging. She clutched the bedsheet, her body trembling. How could this happen? She thought back to the accident—the fall that had led to emergency surgery, the anesthesia that had pulled her under. She'd been alone, vulnerable, and now... this. Panic clawed at her chest. "There must be a mistake. Please, check again. I haven't... I wouldn't..."

Charlie's face softened, his hand reaching out to cover hers. His touch was firm yet gentle, grounding her in the storm of her emotions. "I know this is overwhelming, Yn. I understand how confusing and frightening it must be. But the tests don't lie. You're early in the pregnancy, about six weeks along."

Yn's vision blurred as sobs wracked her body. She pulled her hand away, curling into herself. "But I'm a virgin," she repeated, her voice breaking. "I don't understand. How could this...?" The words trailed off, her mind racing through impossible scenarios. Had something happened during her unconscious state? The thought made her stomach twist, but she couldn't bring herself to voice it. Not to him. Not yet.

Charlie watched her with that same patient, devoted gaze, his brown eyes reflecting a mix of concern and something else—something she couldn't quite place. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Yn, listen to me. You're not alone in this. I know how it feels to be scared, to feel like the world is closing in. But I'm here for you. As your doctor, and as someone who cares."

She looked up at him through tear-streaked lashes, searching for reassurance. His words were like a lifeline, wrapping around her fragile heart. "You... you care?" she asked, her voice small.

"Of course I do," he said, his tone warm and affectionate. "You're a remarkable young woman—kind, sweet, and strong. Whatever happened, we'll face it together. I won't let you go through this alone." He paused, his expression turning grave. "And about your parents... I won't say a word. This is your story, Yn. Your choice. I promise."

His promise felt like a shield, protecting her from the judgment she feared. Yn nodded slowly, wiping at her tears. In that moment, Charlie became more than a doctor; he was her confidant, her ally in a world that suddenly felt hostile. He stayed with her for hours, talking her through her fears, offering gentle advice. "We'll get you through this," he said, his hand resting on her shoulder. "I'll be here every step of the way."

As the days blurred into one another, Yn found herself relying on Charlie more than she ever thought possible. He visited her multiple times a day, his charming demeanor a balm for her aching soul. They talked about everything—the books she loved, the dreams she harbored, the weight of this unexpected news.

He listened with unwavering devotion, his smart insights making her feel seen and understood. "You're not defined by this, Yn," he'd say, his voice a soothing melody. "You're so much more."

Yet, beneath the surface, doubts gnawed at her. In the quiet hours of the night, when the hospital's hum faded to a whisper, Yn replayed the events leading to her surgery. She remembered the vulnerability, the way she'd been alone in that operating room. And Charlie—hadn't he been the one overseeing her care? The thought sent a chill through her, but she pushed it away. He was kind, gentle, caring. He wouldn't hurt her. He couldn't.

One afternoon, as sunlight filtered through the blinds, Charlie brought her a cup of herbal tea, his smile as warm as ever. "I thought you might need this," he said, handing it to her. Yn took it gratefully, her fingers brushing his. "You've been so strong, Yn. Braver than most people your age."

She sipped the tea, letting the steam warm her face. "I don't feel brave. I feel... lost. What if my parents find out? What if they don't understand?"

"They will," Charlie assured her, his eyes locking onto hers with that firm, understanding gaze. "But only if you're ready. And remember, I'm your secret keeper. No one else needs to know until you decide." His words were manipulative in their subtlety, weaving a web of dependency that made her feel safe in his shadow. He painted himself as her protector, the one who could shield her from the world's harsh judgments.

As Yn's strength returned, she began to piece together the fragments of her ordeal. Lois had hinted at irregularities in the hospital's protocols, but Yn dismissed it. Charlie was different. He was devoted, affectionate in his own professional way.

When he hugged her goodbye after a particularly emotional session, his arms lingering a moment too long, she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into the comfort, ignoring the faint unease in her gut.

Weeks passed, and Yn's pregnancy became a quiet reality. She attended follow-up appointments with Charlie, each one a blend of medical necessity and personal confession. He manipulated her emotions masterfully, turning her vulnerability into a bond that felt unbreakable. "You're special, Yn," he'd say, his voice laced with charm. "Trust me, and we'll navigate this together."

But deep down, in the hidden corners of her mind, Yn knew something was wrong. The pieces didn't fit—the unexplained pregnancy, the gaps in her memory, Charlie's overbearing presence. One evening, as he left her room, she whispered to herself, "I have to be stronger than this."

The hospital's atmosphere, once a place of healing, now felt like a cage. Yn's days were filled with internal conflict: the warmth of Charlie's support clashing with the cold fear of what might have happened. She started journaling, pouring her thoughts onto paper, documenting the manipulation that had ensnared her. "He's kind," she wrote, "but is that enough?"

When her parents finally visited, Yn put on a brave face, her gentle nature shielding them from the truth. She couldn't bear to burden them, not yet. Charlie's promise echoed in her ears: secrecy, protection, devotion. But as she watched him walk away down the sterile corridor, his slicked hair catching the light, Yn realized the manipulation for what it was—a chain disguised as a lifeline.

In the end, it was her own strength that would break it. Yn, with her warm heart and unyielding spirit, began to see the path forward. She wasn't just a victim; she was a survivor, ready to reclaim her story. The hospital, with its buzzing lights and whispered secrets, had tested her, but it wouldn't define her.

And though Charlie had tried to mold her world, Yn knew she had the power to step into the light.

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whosdinkleyhenderson · 5 months ago

Text

PROLOGUE

Previous part: Y/N L/N'S BIOGRAPHY

Next part: CHAPTER 1

“I swear to God, Timmy. If that bitch is there, I’m gonna Rocky Balboa her non-existent ass.”

A little giggle escaped her make-up artist Erin’s lips. A satisfactory smile appeared on the h/c’s face.

Timothee had been pacing and snapped his head at her girl in the make-up chair.

“You will not be Rocky Balboa, anyone’s ass, anywhere.” He hissed sternly.

Y/n had to suppress her e/c eyes from an oncoming eye roll. It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t stand the bitch.

“Timmy, she fat-shamed Selena. How can I just stand there, smile, and go ‘omg hiiiii. Nah, me oh, it’s cool that you fat-shamed my non-biological sister and gave her hell’ with the sweetest tone and then giggle. Like a dickhead.”

She dramatised, swinging her hands around the room, almost knocking out Erin.

“Would you be careful? Nearly sent Erin into a coma.”

“Sorry, Erin.”

The older woman waved her off.

“Y/n, I’ve known you since you were twelve. My duck and cover skills are at their peak.”

Smiling, Y/n looked up at Erin with appreciation.

“That reminds me, thank you for coming all this way.”

Carefully dusting the eyeshadow, Erin pulled away and smiled.

“I should thank you for flying me out and sending a limo… especially with that hot driver. You spoiled me.”

Timothee watched as the two conversed.

He couldn’t help but smile; Y/n had been in a bit of a rut for the past two months. She had expressed wanting to fly back home to Australia but with the finalising of Nosferatu, premiers and interviews. Time was not on her side, so having Erin here had brought the young girl a sense of home and familiarity that she had so desperately yearned for.

“And there we have it. All done, my dear…wait let me fix this piece of hair…okay…yep now we’re done.”

He watched as her eyes danced along her features in the mirror, lips creeping up into that gorgeous smile.

“Oh, Erin.” In a flash, the h/c wrapped her arms around the blonde, squeezing her tightly.

“I’ve missed you so much…I swear you’re my fairy godmother…hands of gold.”

Blushing, Erin ushered Y/n away.

“Okay, enough of that; you'll make me cry. Now go put your dress on. You can't walk around in your undies.”

Y/n tossed her robe over Timmy’s head and winked at Erin.

“Wouldn’t you like that? Toodles.” She cackled and disappeared behind the curtain.

“I know Lorenzo would.”

“SHUT UP TIMOTHEE!”

“It’s official: I hate heels. I don't care what anyone says. They’re painful…how the hell does Cecilia walk in these.” She complained.

If someone were to have walked in, they would think she was dancing to the twist.

Timothee rolled his eyes and brought the red clutch to her. With one final twist, she stood up straight.

“You know, I wish I was at home watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer right now…at least then I do have to wear heels. I could be in the living room fighting, doing flying kicks and punches. You know, get my vampire slayer on.” She explained, shifting into a boxing stance.

Timmy took hold of her hands and brought them down to her side. “If you decided to do that, you won’t see Lorenzo tonight.”

Way to use my kryptonite. She thought.

“Plus, you can do that once we come home. Get some pizza, popcorn and Moscato.”

She eyed him carefully. “What’s the catch, big boy?”

She knew him too well.

“Don’t Rocky Balboa anyone, and we can do it…Rocky Balboa, someone and I’ll force you to come with me to see Kylie on our next outing with Kendal.” Timmy watched as a mortified expression formed on her face.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Casting that Jack Nicholson smile, he chuckled. “Watch me, babe. Just watch me.”

“Fucking asshole.” She mumbled as he opened the door.

The crowd was wild.

Flashing lights left, right, and centre.

Celebrities posing for the camera.

The paparazzi called for pictures.

Fans screamed at the top of their lungs.

Interviewers were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

Eyes danced across the chaotic scene before her as the flashing lights gave her a slight headache. She had been standing to the side, waiting for Timmy's return. Checking her watch every five seconds, she noticed that her patience was wearing thin, and the line for the red carpet was beginning to get overcrowded. And damn well knew that leaving this place early was not an option.

“Boo.” A cold, wet hand grasped at her shoulders. Spooked, she spun around and threw a fist in the direction of the person as they ducked before she could knock them out.

“Geez, Y/n. Your flight or fight senses kick in like a bitch.”

“You should know better than to come up behind me, you jackass.” She hissed and shoved the man.

“Where’s lil ol Tim Tim?”

“He said the toilet, but God knows.”

His brown eyes caught the young French actor being interviewed by Entertainment Tonight.

“Looks like Frenchie is being interviewed.”

Y/n followed his stare in Timothee's direction and shook her head. “Typical…”

Hearing the annoyance in her voice, he linked his arm with hers and smiled.

“Come on, princess. Gotta turn that frown upside for Mr Lorenzo Zurzolo.”

“You better watch that tongue of yours.”

The two stepped away from the flashing cameras and to the interview station.

Y/n felt a gentle pressure on the small of her back. Looking back, she noticed his tanned hand resting there as he led her towards an unoccupied table.

“They should provide sunglasses. Those flashing lights are going to make me blind, I swear.”

“Well, I’ll make sure to pass the message on.”

She shot him a look, brow slightly raised, and smirked. “Sure baby, whatever-” A tap on her shoulder stopped her from finishing that sentence.

“Excuse me.”

The two turned around. A young woman in a gorgeous ivory satin dress nervously smiled with a cameraman behind her.

“Hey, what’s up?” Y/n smiled at the two.

“Would it be okay if I interviewed you both?”

“Of course.” Y/n beamed, taking hold of the young woman’s hand. “You don’t mind if I ask you for your name, hon?”

The young woman’s head perked at Y/n’s comment.

“Emilia.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Got me jealous over here.” She winked as Emilia blushed.

“You’re such a flirt, Y/n…shall we?”

She handed the microphones to the two actors, who began to play lightsabers with them.

“Good evening, and welcome to the Academy Museum Gala 2024. I’m Emilia Rivers, and tonight I am here with.”

“Kelso.” He winked into the camera.

“and Jackie from that 70s show.” Y/n smiled cheekily.

“Sorry, sorry. Y/n L/n.”

“And Joe Keery.”

During their interview, Timothee interrupted Joe by giving him a peck on the cheek.

Emilia contained a giggle as Christian panned the camera to Y/n, who held her mic firmly and fluttered her eyelashes.

“And there, folks, is a new and beautiful romance between two star-crossed lovers.”

“I apologise on behalf of him. Please continue, Emilia.” Joe’s statement cleared the air.

“Thank you, Joe. Now I have one more question for you both.”

“Shoot away, hon.”

“As you know, we have two brand new faces here tonight. Have you come across the Netflix TV series Monsters?”

Joe beamed at the question, whereas Y/n blankly stared at Emilia.

“Yes, of course, I’ve watched it. I found it quite interesting. The art between separation of reality and fiction.” Joe’s words began as Y/n zoned out. She had no interest in watching a TV show about murders or a documentary. At least in the documentary, it's fact rather than an overly sexualised fantasy. Too in her thoughts, she missed Emilia's call out to her.

“Hmm?”

“Emilia here asked about-” Joe started.

“Oh yes! I remember, haha, sorry. No, I haven’t, sadly. Though I do recall my grandmother, according to my sister, did but only made it through a few episodes. Too modern for her taste, haha.” She finished tucking a strand of hair.

Emilia smiled at Y/n’s actions.

“That’s so adorable. Well, thank you so much for the interview tonight. I hope you both have a wonderful rest of the night.”

The two actors smiled kindly, thanking Emilia and Christian, as Y/n blew kisses.

“God bless you both.”

Joe excitedly rubbed his palms together as the two walked away.

“She was very nice.”

“Yeah, she was the nicest and most beautiful presenter I've spoken to all year round…she and Christian look cute together. Did you see how they shot each other those cute little looks? Ahhh, young love, how beautiful.” Y/n sang with a skip.

“You know, for someone who loves her paranormal, blood, gore and murder. It freaks me out how you still have a soft spot for romance.” Joe laughed and died a little when he noticed Y/n went quiet.

“Out of all the interviews I've had this year. Emilia is the first person not to ask about Bill.” She sighed.

“That bad, huh?”

She paused and rested a hand on her temple.

“I…uh…I just… it’s hard, you know. I’ve known him since I was sixteen years old… honestly, I didn’t think he would take a liking to me…someone ten years his junior, ya know.”

Joe nodded along to her words. “Yeah, I understand… but hey, I’m also ten years your senior.”

She smiled, shaking her head before she met his eye.

“I know, but with you… it feels perfect… I feel somewhat safe in the presence of you and Timmy. Hell, even the little encounters I’ve had with Lorenzo…I know, I know, it's weird that I say that. But you, Timmy and Lorenzo, don't cast a big shadow over me. You three don't make me feel like I’m being swallowed whole… but for my father, Bill is perfect.” Joe knew where Y/n was coming from and how she felt. He saw it for himself when Bill would show up on the set of Stranger Things to see her.

He thought the two looked cute together despite their height and age difference. But secretly,, he was hoping Lorenzo and Y/n would finally date.

Joe and even Timmy could see it in her eyes; they didn’t sparkle for Bill. But only for him, Lorenzo Zurzolo.

Joe turned to Y/n and grasped her hand. “Come on, let’s go find Hailee and Ella.”

...................................................LOADING..................................................

On the other side of the gala, two men stood beside each other, posing for the cameras.

Flash!

Snap!

Flash!

Snap!

His eyes squinted, and lights blinded him, but he still held his stance firm, death glare along his handsome features.

“Alright, that’s a wrap. Thank you, Nicholas and Cooper.”

They sighed and moved to the side after being there for hours. The relentless photos, interviews, and check-ins with event staff and other celebrities were starting to annoy him.

“Hey, check that cutie out. She seems like your type, Nick. Small, bright eyes.” Cooper pointed out.

Following his friend's gaze, he noticed a young girl interviewing Selena Gomez. While she was attractive, her beauty didn’t intrigue him. He craved being star-struck and amazed by a woman’s presence.

“Hey.”

To their surprise, the two Monsters actors were face to face with none other than Joe Keery.

“I’m Joe Keery, nice to meet you.” Joe greeted, holding out his hand.

Nicholas smiled and took hold of Joe’s hand, giving it a firm shake.

“Hey, Nicholas Chavez.”

Joe Keery, the late 2010s heartthrob who captured his ex-girlfriend's heart.

Nicholas’ smile deflated at the thought of his ex. His gaze became harsh as he took in Joe's features. Luscious brown hair, warm brown eyes. 5’11 and built like an athlete.

The young actor understood the fascination.

The two men shared similar features, such as brown eyes, hair and tan skin. But compared to him, Joe was small. He did not compare to Nicholas’ thick, solid muscles and his overpowering 6’2 hulking figure.

Nicholas's intimidating gaze was humbled. There, she stood a few meters away from Joe.

Her flowing red dress danced with her laughter while her hand rested softly on Timothee Chalamet’s bicep. With a smile, her eyelashes fluttered as she gazed up at the blue-eyed man.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off her as he took in her features. H/c hair was neatly styled in a Dutch braid. A few wisps of hair fell in front of her eyes. The colour of e/c eyes with a hint of red when in the light were complimented by long black eyelashes that brushed so gently against her fair cheeks. He wished she was looking at him with the glint in her eye instead of Timothee.

Feeling eyes burning on their back, both Y/n and Timothee turned to find a strange young man amongst a group of Joe’s, staring them down. Moving in closely, Y/n pulled Timothee closer to her as her gaze hardened; two can play at this game fuckface. She thought.

“The hell is he looking at?”

“Y/n, you can’t say that.”

The young woman turned her attention to her best friend and smirked. “I can do and say as I please, Timmy.”

“Nick, you okay, man?” Cooper called. Turning his gaze toward the group, he smiled.

“Yeah…just who’s she.” The two men followed his stare to Y/n, who was getting ready to give Nicholas the finger.

“Y/n! Put your finger down right now.” Timothee's voice called from across the room.

"Spoil my fun, why don't ya?"

Joe and Cooper share a look, stunned by the young woman’s menacing behaviour. She sure is one of a kind. Not afraid to be who she was.

“Who? Oh, her, she’s Y/n L/n. She’s an interesting one at first. She’s not easily swooned by men and not easily open to women. Hence her almost giving you the finger.” The statement made Nicholas chuckle. This girl seemed feisty, a challenge he could work with.

“I’ll break her walls down… Watch me… by the end of this year, she’ll be my girl.”

“Ha, good luck with that, Romeo. She’s head over heels for Lorenzo Zurzolo, according to sources.” Cooper purred.

Tags: @comfortzonequeen

A/N: let me know if there are any ideas you would like to see or even if you want me to do one shots on Nicholas Chavez characters. feel free to dm or something. Idk, but chapter 1 in is the works. Until next time.

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angelfrombeneth · 8 months ago

Text

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT, RIGHT? - N . CHAVEZ

Mature Content Ahead

Nicholas Chavez x F!Actress Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Summary: You and Nicholas are costars in a new show - Grotesqueire. When it is time to film a sex scene, you aren't ready; awkward tension takes over, but you know what they say; Practice makes perfect.

Note: I just want to say thank you so much for 1k followers and I hope you enjoy this one - and if you are new here, check out my other works. I have new stuff coming, feel free to request in my inbox for a specific character.

If you are looking for a part 2, please read this post as it explains my reasonings behind not making a part 2.

The filming for Grotesqueire has been underway for a few weeks now, this is your first big role in any media which you are extremely excited for. The show has an extremely interesting script, which is one of the reasons you wanted to put your all into your audition - which got you here.

"Y/N, I need you on set B in 5 minutes" Someone shouted from outside the trailer.

You sat up, taking your glasses off as you put them aside as you grabbed your contact case, quickly putting your contacts. You grab your veil, before exiting your trailer and walking towards the set. Crew preparing sets around you as you pass through different hallways, so much going on in one place but somehow you still felt at home.

"I was wondering where you were" You heard Nicholas laugh behind you as you turned to face him.

You laughed, turning to him as you smiled. Nicholas was your co-star playing a weirdly odd but kinky priest - and well, he was definitely lovely to look at.

"Nicholas, what are you doing?" The costume leader came scrambling over. "That isn't your costume for this scene- come!" She grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the set.

You laughed at Nicholas getting dragged away before walking upon the director and listening to your scene directions.

You sat upon your position on the set, the hairstylist coming to fit the veil upon your head properly, fixing your hair under it as you noticed Nicholas enter the set from the side of your view. You turn to look at him, your eye quirking up at his costume- well lack of costume.

"Nicholas why are you wearing just a towel?" You laughed.

"I have no idea- This is what Marissa gave me-" He spoke but was quickly cut off by the director on the megaphone.

"Alright! So can we get Talia on set please!"

You watched a girl walk up to you and Nicholas, smiling as she held a clipboard. "Y/N! Nicholas! I am very grateful to meet you, I am Talia your intimacy coordinator"

You blinked. You read the script you knew it was coming but you didnt realise it would be so early on. Nicholas shared a similar face to you.

"Now, don't worry, we will go over the main aspects and go over any boundaries the pair of you have" She smiled.

The next twenty minutes were spent with you, Nicholas and the intimacy coordinator. You were still shocked. It wasn't that you couldn't do it - Nicholas was attractive, and all, and the attraction for the scene was definitely there; it was just the awkwardness of it.

After talking Talia deemed you guys to be okay to proceed, the horn sounded round the studio as the pair of you prepared for your scene.

The tension loomed in the air as you stared at Nicholas from the doorway, reciting your lines.

"Can you dry my back sister... please" He hummed, passing a folded white towel over to you. You took it, walking behind him as he kneeled infront of the bed. You took the towel, slowly sliding it over his back full of gashes, cleaning the blood from his back as your finger ran over the bumps. You let your hand reset to his shoulder, softly gripping it as he hummed, it was what was scripted but it felt.. awkward.

"CUT!-" Shot through the studio as alarms sounded once more. Talia and the director came over, looking at you and Nicholas.

"Maybe lets take a break, you two talk through the scene and try and coordinate something. It feels.." The direction tapped his chin as he spoke.

"Awkward. It was very tense and not good tense" Talia sighed.

The pair of you nodded, walking out of the studio and towards the trailer as you groaned, flinging open the door as you tore the veil off your head yet again.

Nicholas sat on the couch looking up at you snickering as you groaned, sitting beside him, tossing your legs over his as you leaned back on the couch.

"I had no clue we were filming.. that today. It's just.. awkward" You looked at him, watching his body face yours completely as he held your full attention. The way his eyes stared into yours as you spoke.

"I mean if it makes you feel any better, I was pretty nervous. I didnt really know what to do and its just unfamilar i guess, its not a regular sex scene its gotta be.. kinky" He chuckled.

He made you feel comfortable. No pressure at all, the awkwardness was lifting bit by bit, showing the light under the fog.

"I mean what if we just.. you know" You blurted.

"If we just what?" Nicholas looked at you confused. "Fucked?"

"I mean you said it not me.." You looked around the room, trying to break the obvious tension as he laughed at your reaction. "I mean, for the scene right?" You smirked.

"Yeah for the scene." You sat up and looked at him as he spoke, crawling towards him slightly. You paused just before him. One of your hands gripping his thigh as the other held his shoulder.

The pair of you looked at each other for a brief moment, the balance of friends and coworkers about to be broken. As much as you wanted to chant in your head, 'it's for work, for work,' it wasn't, was it.

Your lips softly connected with his, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you in, sitting upon his lap, your legs wrapping and encasing him between. His lips mimicked your movement, slowly moving against yours, matching your pace and rhythm.

You pulled away briefly for a moment, looking at him. "This is work right..?" You chuckled.

"Definitely work" He smirked, pushing himself up, sending you up as he pulled apart your dress, the top clasps undoing as you kissed him forcefully. Your arms flew around his neck as he tugged the dress down slightly.

Your lips interlocked as you kissed each other hungrily, your hands combing through his locks as he slid all over your torso, pinching and grabbing at the flesh.

You both wouldn't admit it, but this was a long time coming. With the subtle flirting on and off set, you both were excited for the sex scene to finally be able to 'get a taste' as Nicholas said - but you didn't expect this.

You pulled away, gripping the waist of the dress as you dragged it up your body, pulling it up over your head as you dropped it to the floor, allowing yourself to fall back against the couch, your arms around his neck as you guided him ontop of you.

"Fuck-" Nicholas groaned, towering above you as he stared down as you adored in your black lace set as you stared up at him. "Is lingere supposed to be apart of the costume.. I mean stockings? Really? The dress covers it" His hand slid down your thigh to your calf, feeling the silky sheer material covering your bare skin.

"Personal touch" You smirked at him, your hands holding his shoulders as he licked his lips.

Nicholas's head turned to the side, kissing the wrist of your hand as it held his shoulder, taking the hand as he kissed up your arm slowly, gaining closer and closer.

You pulled him down towards you, rubbing his neck softly as you pecked his lips softly. "Nick- This is mad" You laughed out.

A smile covered his lips as he kissed your cheek, to your jaw and slowly down your neck, nipping occasionally. "Its practice... for work of course"

"The for work excuse has been.. overused~" You melted into his touch, your hands resting softly upon his hips above the towel that fixed upon his body. You tugged his hips closer, noticing his lips depart from your collarbone as he peered up at you.

He licked his lips, sitting back upon his knees as he stared down at you, that cheeky grin on his face. "Now, got to act suprised in the scene, I'll give you a little preview" He snickered.

You reached forward for his towel, tugging it as it puddled at his knees. You gawked for a moment, you didnt expect him to actually be pare naked under the towel - acting and all, you'd think he'd have some sort of cover.

"The director thought it would be more authentic to be completely naked under the towel.... For gravity purposes" He winked, his hands sliding down your waist, hooking his fingers through the sides of your underwear, slowly pulling them down your body.

"That's a terrible excuse" You laughed as you lifted your feet out of your underwear as he dropped them on the floor. You sat up, pushing his chest as he sat back on the couch.

"Calm down, cowgirl", He snickered, leaning back as he stared at you; one of his heads reached to rest upon your hip, the other clasped around himself as he gradually began to pump.

You reached back, unclasping your bra and sliding it off slowly as you threw it at him, the pair of you laughing. The sight of him leant back against the couch, hot and bothered as he stared at you while touching himself was all too much, it was making you hot and bothered.

"Fuck me, you are so hot Nicholas" you brought your hands to your face, covering your eyes as you let out a loud drawn out sigh.

"Genes.. what can I tell you" He smiled, as you leaned forward pecking his lips softly a few times. His grin seeping into the kiss as you stared at him, your noses touching eachother slightly.

You leaned in, capturing him in a soft kiss, instantly reciprocated as both his hands gripped your waist. You sat in his lap, softly grinding down against him - humming softly within the kiss at the friction.

You noticed his eagerness as his hips would occasionally buckle up against yours, one of his heads to your neck, gripping it softly as he pulled you closer - the pair of you intensely making out.

Your hands raked through his hair, tugging and stroking it as his hand tested with pressure around your neck as you hummed softly, lightly moaning within the kiss.

You pulled away abruptly, looking down as you took him into your hand as you slowly guided him into you as you let out a light and soft moan, which was sounded out by his own moan.

"Fuckkkk-" His head fell backwards as his hands fell upon your waist, guiding you slowly.

You looked down at him, your hands holding his shoulders as you slowly rutted your hips against his, grinding down against him. Watching his face twitch in pleasure as his breathing stuttered at each movement.

"You are so vocal" You laughed, pecking his lips softly as you rested your forehead against his, continuing to grind down against him, watching his body for every single twitched movement.

"Cant help it- Does it bother y-you.." He stared up at you, slightly breathless as he grinned, his eyes half lidded.

"Absolutely not.. turns me on if anything" You chuckled, kissing his cheek softly as you leaned down to nibble on his ear lobe as you continued to ride him.

Nicholas continued to groan in your ear, making you smirk as you speed up your movements, dropping your body weight down against him harshly as you bucked your hips back and forth. Cusses spewed from his lips as you continued to do so. 'Fuck' 'Shit' 'Holy Fuuuck-', continued to fall from his lips as you hummed softly, soft moans leaving yours.

You watched him intently as his eyes rolled back, his eyes staying hooded as he tried to steady his breathing. Smirking as you noticed the effect you had over him, especially how cocky he is normally.

Your movements slowed down as you panted softly, leaning against him for balance and he noticed. Nicholas picked you up, causing you to yelp momentarily as you pushed you up against a desk.

"Getting tired?" He smirked, pressing his hands against the wall behind you, as he thrusted harshly forward - causing you to gulp back a moan. Your fists clenching as you stared up at him.

"I thought-" You groaned, at each thrust he made, pressing your hands against his chest as you steadied your breathing.

"Mhm.. You thought wrong; I was definitely enjoying before, though.." He pecked your lips softly, leaning to your ear. "My turn now" He whispered.

His hands hooked under your thighs, lifting your lower body up slightly as he continued to thrust into you. You yelped out, shutting your eyes as you tried to control yourself from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure, trying hard to not let go so soon. His lips harshly locked against your neck, as he sucked and bit down against the flesh.

"Nicholas-" You gasped out, moaning softly as your fingernails clawed down his back harshly.

"Shhhh" He cooed, as he licked up your neck, his hips continuing to slam against yours as the desk rocked below the pair of you.

"So fucking good- holy-" You gasped, staring at him as you laughed out slightly, his lips curling up into a smile as he continued to thrust, his hands holding your hips up just above the desk as you locked your legs around his waist tightly.

He dropped you harshly against the wood, placing a hand on your neck, kissing you roughly as you raced to reciprocate. His tongue halfway down your throat as your hands slid down his chest, your fingers feeling between the crevises of his sculpted chest. His free hand, cupping your breast as he squeezed it occasionally.

You hummed needingly into the kiss as his thumb pressed pressure against the front of your throat, causing you to tighten - which he felt. You could feel the smirk on his face as he kissed you, his tongue exploring your mouth as you helplessly allowed it.

You felt his whole hand clamp down on your neck with pressure. Your breath hitched for a moment at the sheer shock as he pulled away, your foreheads resting against one another, beads of sweat falling and mixing within each other as you gasped, staring into his eyes as he thrust deeply, holding himself within you.

"...Nick.." you croaked out as he stared at you, his eyes blown out with lust as he leaned in, biting your lip between his teeth as he held his eye contact with you, his thumb still pressed hard against the front of your throat.

He took his free hand, sliding his middle finger and index finger past your lips and into your mouth as you stared at him. You gave him no indication against it which caused his dick to twitch. He began to thrust against yet this time harder but slower. Your body rebounded each time, pushing yourself into the wall that you could've meshed into it. You sucked on his fingers, tugging his hair as you run your hand down his face, caressing it as you let out a guttural moan as he trusted once more.

"Good girl.. cum for me" He whispered, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth and removing his hand from your neck as his face flew to yours, your lips instantly crashing upon one another as he gripped your hips, pulling you forward and roughly thrusting into you.

You moaned into his mouth, panting heavily as you drew closer and closer to your high. Your leg twitching as you threw your head back as his lips sucked and nipped at your neck as you screamed out loudly. Your hands clawing down his back as you came undone.

You were too dazed in your high, groaning and panting as Nicholas pulled out, groaning as he pumped himself watching as your whole body twitched.

Your legs flung closed as you stared at him, exhausted as he whined before he came on your thigh, whimpering and panting as he did so, his arm leant against the wall behind you as it supported his weight - his face mere centermeters away.

"Holy fuck-" You chuckled, out of breath as you stared at him.

His chest rose and fell as he stared up at you with hooded eyes. His finger swiping his cum off your thigh as he held it up to you.

You smirked, leaning forward and sucking it off his finger as you looked at him. He smiled at you before pushing himself off the wall as he stumbled back to the couch, laying back on it as he sighed - catching his breath.

"That was more of a workout than my actual workout sessions.. jesus Christ", Nicholas groaned, his arm resting up above him.

You pulled yourself off the desk, your legs slightly wobbly as you slowly approached him. You sat beside his head, lifting it and resting it against your thigh as you sighed.

"I think we've got the sex scene down, don't you.." You laughed, running your fingers through his hair.

"Oh, definitely" He smirked up at you.

It was safe to say, when the pair of you finally caught your breath you showered and got rechanged into your costumes. You had to cover up all the marks on your neck but for Nicholas it was fine, he was already marked by makeup so hopefully no one could tell the difference.

When the pair of you got to set, you definitely delivered the sex scene, going beyond the script. Hair pulling, finger sucking, tit grabbing, ass grabbing - the lot. Safe to say everyone was impressed.

"CUT! That was exactly what we needed, guys!" The director clapped as you and Nicholas stared at each other, panting slightly. You smirked, looking down at the tent under the towel Nicholas was wearing.

"Please don't move- it'll be so fucking embarrassing", Nicholas begged. You chuckled, patting his chest.

#nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez smut #grotesquerie #charlie mayhew #nicholas chavez x female reader #nicholas chavez x actress!reader #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas chavez fic #angelfrombenethfics

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cyber333angel · 8 months ago

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TWITTER P*LINKS FOR NICHOLAS CHAVEZ <3

eating you out

riding him

on top

jerking him off

missionary

him eating you out AND jerking off

on the kitchen counter

morning s*x

making out

sixty- nine

free use

breeding kink

in the suit

#nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas alexander chavez smut #Nicholas havez fanfiction #plinks #Nicholas Chavez x reader

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greengoblinswifey · 7 months ago

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Temple— Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— they always say “your body is a temple” and boy is nicholas’ body a temple you love to climb and worship.

warnings— PURE SMUT. fingering, hand job, oral(m receiving), unprotected sex, mirror play, spit kink, praise kink, degrading kink, body worship, ass slapping, choking, creampie, daddy kink, breeding kink, cum eating, rough sex, aftercare, fluff.

a/n— ovulating and wrote this based on these pictures because he looks so good, ugh, i NEED him. (not prof read)

You were wandering the aisles of your favorite boutique, surrounded by the chatter of other shoppers. Just as you picked up a cute dress, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You fished it out, expecting a simple text, but what you saw made your breath hitch and your pussy throb.

Nicholas had sent you a picture of himself shirtless, standing in his bathroom with the light cascading down his chiseled abs, his hair slightly damp and tousled and then one with the hat you gifted him on. He looked incredible, his physique had transformed since you first started dating for his new roles, becoming more defined and muscular, and it left you utterly speechless.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip as heat pooled in your core. God, he looks good. You remembered when you first met him, he was charming and sweet, and you loved him just as he was then. But this new version of him? It ignited something deep within you. It was as if every sculpted muscle was begging for your attention, and all you could think about was how much you needed him inside you, pounding you.

The dress you were holding suddenly felt heavier as you clutched it tighter, trying to maintain your composure in the middle of the store. Your thighs clenched instinctively, and you could feel the flush creeping up your cheeks. How was it possible for someone to look that good? You found yourself blushing, desperately trying to focus on the price tags in front of you, but your mind was racing with thoughts of him.

You quickly typed back, your fingers trembling as you tried to keep it casual. “Wow, what are you trying to do to me?” You hit send, your heart racing with anticipation. He was always playful, but this felt different, this felt more personal, more intimate.

As you made your way to the cash register, you could still see him in your mind, his body the definition of perfection. You swiped his card without a second thought, the thrill of using his money adding to your excitement. If only he were here right now. You imagined him behind you, his hands resting on your hips, whispering sweet nothings as you paid.

Your thoughts swirled with desire, longing to feel his warmth against your skin, to wrap your arms around him and pull him in close. His body was a temple, you thought, it was a holy site you craved to explore.

With a final glance at the dress in your hands, you decided to head home, your mind set on what would happen once you got there. You needed him, and you could already envision the fire igniting between you two as soon as you walked through the door.

As you rushed through the front door, adrenaline surged through you. You barely took the time to drop your shopping bags before you heard the unmistakable sound of the shower turning off.

You quietly made your way down the hallway, the steam still lingering in the air, and as you approached the bathroom, you caught a glimpse of him stepping out, droplets of water glistening on his perfectly chiseled body. Nicholas looked like a god, one you craved to worship, his muscles taut and glistening under the dim light, every curve and contour accentuated.

You leaned against the doorframe, mesmerized, your breath catching in your throat. This was everything you’d imagined and more. He dried himself off with a towel, completely unaware of your presence, and for a moment, you relished the view, every single inch of him was a work of art.

But you were done watching. The heat radiating from your core was too strong to ignore, and all rational thoughts slipped away. Without a second thought, you slipped out of your clothes, leaving yourself bare and vulnerable in the dim light.

The chill of the air contrasted sharply with the heat building inside you, but it only fueled your desire further. You stepped into the bathroom, your heart pounding, and when he finally turned to face you, his eyes widened in surprise and hunger.

“Nicholas,” you breathed, your voice thick with need. You stepped closer, the space between you two disappearing as the urgency of the moment enveloped you.

“Hey baby— oh shit.”

His towel dropped to the floor, forgotten, and in that instant, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, raw, exposed, and yearning for each other.

“Oh god, I need you so bad,” you whined, your body pressed against his as you desperately kissed him all over his chest and tipped to meet his cheeks and lips.

Nicholas pulled you close, laughter in his eyes as he felt your warmth enveloping him. “What’s gotten into you, pretty baby?” he teased, a playful grin spreading across his face.

You looked up at him, your heart racing as you felt the heat radiating off his body. “Look at you,” you replied, your voice breathless. “Walking around here looking like this, sending me pictures of you shirtless… God, what do you expect?”

With a mischievous smile, you moved behind him, admiring his tall, muscular frame in the mirror. You couldn’t help but caress his abs, fingers tracing the defined lines, marveling at the way his body felt under your touch. He threw his head back in pleasure, a low groan escaping his lips as your hands explored him.

The atmosphere shifted, the playful banter giving way to something more primal. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body responded to your every caress. His thick, long cock was painfully hard now , and you could sense the need in him building, mirroring your own.

You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him gently as you both stared into the mirror. The sight was mesmerizing, his face contorting with pleasure, the way he fell apart under your touch, completely lost in the moment.

As you continued, you watched him unravel, utterly captivated by how hot he was, how perfectly he fit into your desires.

“Look at yourself daddy, I’m making you feel so good, you look so fucking sexy,” you panted, speeding up your movements.

You bit your lip as you felt him jump and throb in your hands, everything he did made you feral. Then, with a shudder and a low moan, you felt the warmth spill onto your hand, a testament to the electric connection between you two.

“Open your eyes,” you demanded. They fluttered open and he watched in the mirror as you sucked his cum from off your fingers before lifting them up to his lips making him taste what was left of himself. He hummed in content, the sound going straight to your pussy but you would deal with that problem soon.

“No,” you said, determination lacing your voice as you looked up at him. “I need to give you more. I want to show you just how much I appreciate you.”

Slowly, you sank to your knees, eyes locked onto his as you let your tongue glide over his chest, savoring the taste of his skin. You trailed your tongue down to his abs, worshipping every ridge and contour. “You’re so beautiful,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry. “So sexy, Daddy.”

His breath hitched at your words, and you could see the effect you had on him, his body responding to your every move. You reached down, wrapping your hand around his cock again, feeling him harden beneath your touch.

“Look at how big you are,” you praised, your voice dripping with admiration. “So perfect in my hands.” You leaned closer, giving him a teasing lick, savoring the taste of him, and your eyes rolled back in pleasure at how good he tasted. “Mm, you taste amazing daddy.”

With that, you took him into your mouth, feeling him fill you completely. The sounds of his pleasure willed you on, and you began to move, sending him to the back of your throat, lost in the rhythm of worshipping him. “You taste so good,” you whispered between breaths, and Nicholas groaned, his hands tangling in your hair, urging you on.

“Just like that, baby,” he praised, his voice thick with desire. “You’re fucking incredible.”

You continued, letting his praises wash over you, and as you felt him hold your head down and cum down your throat, it was like fireworks exploded around you. You savored the moment, knowing you had brought him to this point of ecstasy.

You couldn’t help but smile as you looked up at him, feeling bold. With your fingers, you gathered the rest of his release from his hard cock and brought it to your mouth. You took it in, savoring the taste, and smeared it and your saliva over his chiseled abs. You couldn’t resist the urge to lick it all off, your body shuddering with each stroke of your tongue.

“God, you’re fucking perfect, y’know that?” he said, watching you with a mix of awe and desire. “I appreciate that, baby. But now, it’s my turn to make you feel good.”

He positioned you in front of him, hoisting one of your feet up onto the counter, giving him a better angle. “Open your mouth,” he commanded softly, and you complied eagerly, watching as he spat into your waiting mouth. You swallowed it happily, feeling the rush of satisfaction.

Nicholas trailed his finger down your body, stopping at your soaking wet pussy. As he slipped a finger inside you, you gasped, your body arching toward him instinctively. “Look at yourself in the mirror,” he instructed, his voice thick with lust. “Look how beautiful you are.”

You glanced up, eyes locking with your reflection. The sight of you, flushed and breathless, sent a thrill through you. Nicholas’ finger worked expertly inside you, curling just right, and the pleasure began to build. “That’s it, baby. You’re so beautiful when you come apart like this,” he praised, his gaze never leaving your face as he watched you surrender to the waves of ecstasy. “Let me see you feel good.”

With each movement of his fingers, the pleasure surged higher, and you found yourself lost in the sensation. “Daddy,” your moans filling the room as you finally reached your release, trembling under his touch.

“That’s it, I’ve got you baby, daddy’s got you,” he cooed, rubbing your clit fast as your body jolted and slowly came down from your high.

Nicholas trailed kisses down your neck and across your shoulders, his lips warm against your skin. “Look in the mirror, baby,” he murmured, his breath hot against you. You obeyed, your heart racing as you met your own gaze, feeling every kiss ignite your desire.

With a sudden, playful movement, he bent you over the counter, a sharp smack landing on your ass. “You look so sexy like this,” he teased, watching you wiggle your backside against him. You grinned back at him, biting your lip. “You look like a Greek god,” you shot back, and he smirked, pride flashing in his eyes.

“Oh yeah?” he replied, holding your neck gently but firmly, bringing you back against his chest. You arched into him, feeling his hard cock tease against you as he slipped inside, filling you completely.

He began to pound into you roughly, his grip on your neck ensuring you were locked onto his gaze in the mirror. “Keep those eyes on me,” he commanded, and when you felt the urge to close them, he shook you slightly. “Look at yourself!”

“Daddy, you feel so good,” you gasped, feeling the pleasure building inside you.

“Tell me more,” he urged, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me how fucking hot I am.”

You nodded, breathless, “You’re so hot, so beautiful. I love your body, daddy. I love how you look as you pound into me.”

“Such a dirty slut,” he teased, reveling in the sight of you enjoying every second. He rubbed your clit, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through you. “Look at yourself being fucked.”

With a loud moan, you surrendered to the man behind, your release washing over you as you cried out his name like it was the only word you knew.

Nicholas smirked, a glint in his eye. “I’m not done with you yet,” he declared, hoisting you up effortlessly, arms hooked under your legs. He turned you sideways, positioning you perfectly so you could watch him slam into you.

“Worship me,” he commanded, his voice deep and gravelly making you throb.

You felt a surge of excitement course through you, and you nodded, biting your lip as you gazed into his eyes. “You’re everything, Nicholas. So strong, so perfect,” you whispered, your heart racing at the power he held over you, “you’re so fucking beautiful, your body is a work of art.”

With each thrust, he drove deeper, filling you completely. “That’s it, baby. You know how to treat me right,” he growled, his tone playful yet commanding. “Show me how much you want me.”

You leaned forward, kissing him passionately, your hands roaming over his chiseled chest and arms. “I need you,” you breathed between kisses. “You feel so good. I can’t get enough daddy.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice thick with lust. “I want to see you cum again.”

You gasped as he hit that sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. “Daddy!” you cried out, feeling yourself on the edge once more. “I’m so close!”

“Then let go for me,” he urged, his eyes locked on yours, watching as the ecstasy took over. “Worship your man, baby.”

With one final thrust, you felt the familiar rush of pleasure envelop you as you climaxed, a wave of satisfaction washing over you. “Nicholas!” you cried, and he groaned in response, losing himself in the moment as he held you close, his body trembling with the intensity of it all but still not releasing.

He didn’t let you go. Instead, he laid your body down on the counter just a little, your legs wrapped tightly around him as he pounded into you once more. The world flipped upside down as you caught your reflection in the mirror, his tall frame hovering above you. The sight of him, muscles glistening and face twisted in pleasure, made your head spin.

“Who’s your daddy?” he asked, his voice thick with desire, his hand firm around your neck, exerting just enough pressure to send shivers down your spine.

“You,” you gasped, barely able to catch your breath. “You look like a god, so so h-handsome.”

The feeling of being so close to him made you dizzy, and his relentless thrusts only intensified the sensation. “I’m gonna fill you up and breed you like a bitch,” he growled, and your body responded to his words, craving more.

“Please,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper as you gasped for air, but the urgency in your tone said everything. “I want it. I want you. I want your cum inside me!”

He smirked, the heat of his breath against your skin sending another wave of pleasure through you. “Since you think I’m so perfect, we’re gonna make the most perfect little babies,” he teased, pounding harder, deeper. You could feel the tension building as he brought you closer to the edge once more.

With a final, powerful thrust, he filled you completely, each pulse of his hot cum sending waves of ecstasy coursing through both of you. You felt him tremble against you as he held your neck tightly, ensuring you were looking at yourselves in the mirror.

As the high faded, exhaustion washed over you. He scooped you up into his arms, your head resting on his shoulder like a baby, ironic, considering what just happened. He brought a towel to clean you up, laying you gently on the bed, his lips trailing soft kisses across your skin.

“You did so good, baby,” he murmured, pride evident in his voice. “You took me so well. I’m so proud of you. You’re so perfect, princess.”

You cuddled into him, tracing circles on his pecs as you kissed his chest, savoring the warmth and safety of his embrace. In that moment, everything felt right, the world outside forgotten as you enjoyed the afterglow of what you had just shared.

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nightmare-niko · 8 months ago

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Blame It On The Rain [Nicholas Alexander Chavez x reader]

Word count: 855

Warnings: oral (m! receiving), rough sex, shower sex, once again completely self-indulgent

A/N: the obsession is going strong hehehe

Copying or translating my writing is not allowed. If you see my work on another site it is stolen. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.

Your boyfriend lay on your bed, scrolling away on his phone. Such a simple task, but he looks so damn good. You lean against the door frame, shamelessly watching your unsuspecting lover.

"Hey, Nick?" You call out innocently.

"Yes, baby?" He looks up from his phone.

"I'm gonna shower."

He looks at you, confused, “oookay..?”

"Join me.”

The corners of his mouth curled up into a mischievous smile, "you askin or tellin?"

You roll your eyes, “Meet me in the bathroom in two minutes!” you turn on your heels and head towards your bathroom.

”Or what?" He shouts, still in your room.

"Or you're not getting head for a month!" You close the bathroom door behind you.

You hastily drop your pants and turn on the warm shower water. You hear Nicholas fumbling around in your bedroom. and you're not surprised when he practically through the door.

"That was like twenty seconds dude,” You feign disappointment.

Nicholas just shrugs, taking off his shirt in one movement.

"The waters not even warm yet!"

"Don't care!" He pulls you in for a rough kiss, tongues fighting for dominance— not like you'd ever win.

You waste no time untying his sweatpants and pulling them down haphazardly. You go to pull down his underwear but are met with bare skin. You pause and pull away, you giggle as he chases your lips for more, “No underwear? what a slut!" You tease.

"Says the one who lured me in here just to fuck me,” he accuses.

You gasp and wrap your nimble fingers around his half-hard cock. "I didn't call you in here just fuck you!" You defend, running your thumb over his slit— he hisses.

”Why am I here then?” His voice is strained.

You hum, pretending to think deeply about his question. letting go of him you take a step back. He whines at the loss of contact, eyes trained on you as you remove your shirt and underwear.

Now, just as bare as him you step into the water stream. you sigh in delight as the waterfalls around you.

Nicholas steps in behind you, “Baby this water is boiling!”

You chuckle and turn around to change the water temperature for him. With for back facing him he wastes no time landing a loud “thwack” on your bare ass.

“Ow!! Nick what the hell!”

“I'm sorry I couldn't help myself!!”

“I'll remember that,” you warn as you pull him closer to you by his waist. “You're so hot,” you playfully bite his chest.

“So are you~” he runs his fingers into your hair and tugs your face up towards him, capturing you in another breathtaking kiss.

His now fully hard cock pressed in between your torsos. Backing up, he pulls you with him until his back meets the shower wall. You recapture his lips in a searing kiss, your greedy hands roaming and feeling his toned body.

You part briefly for air, the both of you breathing heavily. Nicholas’ eyes are deep with desire as he trails kisses along your jaw down to your neck. A soft moan escapes your lips.

As much as you wanted to lose yourself in the feeling of your boyfriend— you had brought him here for a reason. “Let me take care of you,” you offer— pulling back from his grasp.

He looks at you for a moment— pupils blown out in his eager eyes.

He moans pathetically when you finally sink to your knees. “Use me,” you mutter.

“W-what?”

“I want you,” you wrap your hands around the base of his shaft. “To use me,” you kiss up the sides until you reach the tip.

‘A-Are you sure?? I don't want to hurt you!”

“Nicholas,” you state flatly. “I want you to fuck my face. Now.”

He growls, gripping your hair tightly. This is what you've been waiting for!

“Tongue. out,” he demands, you stick out your tongue obediently.

He slaps his red leaking tip on it with his free hand before he presses you all the way down his shaft. He throws his head back and it thumps against the wall behind him as a moan rips through him.

“fuck—” he curses, as he begins his steady rhythm fucking into your mouth.

You run your manicured nails along his toned thighs, leaving red scratches in their wake.

You can feel his cock twitch deep in your throat.

You look up at him through your eyelashes— you moan at his fucked out state. The vibration sends him over the edge as he pulls out of your mouth. The string of saliva connecting your tongue and his tip is downright pornographic. Hot ropes of white cum fall on your face and tongue as your boyfriend shouts obscenities from above you.

You rise from your position on the bathtub floor. You reach up and pull Nicholas down for one final kiss— He whines as he tastes himself on your lips.

You pull away, dopey grin on both of your faces. “See now— that. Is why I called you here.”

Tag list (If you want to be added just comment!)

@Nallasstuff @chmpgneprblem @qoopeeya @lilybellalana @sleepysongbirdsings

#friends #mutuals #art #wattpad #writing #original story #fanfic #fantasy #moodboard #fanfiction #nicholas alexander chavez x reader #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #father charlie mayhew #charlie mayhew #charlie mayhew x reader #smut

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chrrymlks · 8 months ago

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୨୧﹕ mustang .ᐟ part one

pairing ; au!nicholas chavez x fem!reader contains ; 80s alternate universe , slight smut ( makeout , undressing ) , enemies to lovers , getting caught. a/n ; this is based off of the aesthetic and time period of the ‘monsters’ show, but it is NOT based off of the menendez brothers. it is also based on ‘challengers’, specifically the tennis scenes. nicholas is a rich kid in the 1980s in this fic. summary ; after a competitive tennis match between y/n and nicholas, they decide to let their anger out in another way.

A TIE BREAKER is the last thing y/n needed for this match, and she could tell nicholas was furious too, swaying from side to side with his eyebrows furrowed, sweat dripping down his forehead slowly after a long game. it didn’t help that it was in the middle of a heatwave, and y/n’s legs had rubbed together so much that a chafing rash had began to form on her inner thighs. with every movement there was a burning sensation, but at this point she didn’t care — she wanted to make a point to nicholas, that she was better than him. she wanted to humble this rich boy so much, that looking at her in public would anger him.

so, pushing through the pain, y/n got into position and held the tennis ball against her racket, before looking nicholas in the eyes, unafraid of his intense gaze. and without a second thought, she threw the ball up into the air and hit it towards him.

with every grunt and hit of the ball from nicholas, y/n’s heartbeat raced. his muscles glistened in the sunlight as sweat drenched them. it was attractive, sure, but he wasn’t attractive. y/n could never imagine being attracted to him. the spoiled momma’s boy? no fucking way. it only fuelled her need to succeed, to show him who’s boss. so, as soon as she saw the chance, y/n hit the ball as hard as she could to the other side of the net, and without fail the ball bounced just before the baseline before bouncing once again out of the court.

nicholas just watched as he lost — he knew it would’ve been impossible to save himself from that.

as y/n and half of the audience cheered, nick agitatedly rubbed his temples with his left hand, trying to compose himself. this was until he shouted a loud “FUCK!” as he threw his racket on the ground.

y/n laughed at his outburst as they both walked up to the net, “is someone mad?”.

nicholas didn’t answer, putting his hand out for a short handshake. but, instead of letting go, he grabbed y/n’s hand tighter and pulled her in slightly, his eyes locked on hers. nick muttered under his breath, loud enough for only her to hear, “you’re fucking dead to me”, before pushing her hand away and walking off.

y/n furrowed her eyebrows. for some reason she felt hurt? it’s not that she liked him, or wanted him to like her. but that was just… mean.

after packing her things and thanking people for congratulating her, y/n began to leave the small stadium with her tennis bag slung over her shoulder. she walked into the parking lot, making her way towards her car and shoving her bag into the trunk before spotting another car — and she knew exactly who’s it was. the red 1965 ford mustang parked next to the lamppost, two rows from her car was obviously nicholas’.

y/n furrowed her eyebrows. wondering why he was still here, she decided to walk towards the car.

it seemed like nicholas didn’t realise she was walking up to his driver’s side window since he was looking down, eyes closed as he rubbed his temples in annoyance. the girl stood there for a while, pondering on how to get his attention before clearing her throat.

nicholas flinched before looking up at the girl who just beat him, her face in an awkward expression, “so..”

“no” he cut her off immediately, “fuck off”

y/n was taken aback by his rude remark before responding, “okay, no. stop acting like a fucking child”

“being annoyed about losing is acting like a child?” nick scoffed, opening his car door.

the girl moved to the side so he could get out, her arms folding as she leaned against the expensive car, “yeah, it is”

after he got out of the car, he crossed his arms, mimicking her. she had to look up to him now, as he towered over her with an annoyed smirk on his face, “it’s not my fault you’re a bitch”

“it’s not my fault you’re a sore loser” she retaliates, causing him to take a few small steps closer to her. y/n had to look even further up at him, actually seeing his face now as he blocked the sun with his head. the smell of his cologne mixed with sweat filled her lungs, which was strangely attractive to her.

nicholas spoke in a much softer, yet condescending tone than before, “sore loser, huh?”

“sore.” y/n got in his face, “loser.”

the two sat in the tension for a minute, just inches away from each other’s faces. nicholas inhaled her exhale, and she did the same with him. their eyebrows remained furrowed as they looked into each other’s eyes, filled with hate. you couldn’t tell if he was about to punch her, or kiss her.

that was until the tension broke as they both rushed to smack their lips together in a sloppy yet passionate kiss. nicholas wrapped his arms around y/n’s waist, roughly grasping her, as she moved her hands to his neck — one hand ran through his hair as the other dug her nails into his neck, causing him to let out a grunt, kissing her even rougher.

nicholas removed one of his hands from her body, reaching behind her for the door handle and opening the car door. they both swiftly got into the backseat of the car and slammed the door shut behind them, never breaking the kiss.

he then started placing sloppy kisses along her cheek and down her neck, letting y/n catch her breath as she reached for his biceps. she grabbed his muscles, getting flashbacks from when she observed them on the court.

abruptly, nick moved his hands from her waist to her thighs and pulled her in closer, placing himself in between her legs, causing y/n to let out a gasp. nicholas looked up at her, giving a playful smile which she returned before sharing another rough passionate kiss.

as he moved his hand up her tennis skirt, he lightly grazed his fingertips along her upper thighs. y/n’s body shivered at his touch before a sudden, loud knock on the window interrupted them both.

ah shit.

part i | part ii

#nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #fanfiction #fanfic #777 #ʚɞ chrrymlks

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4rafe · 7 months ago

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nicholas alexander chavez

you and your famous boyfriend, nicholas alexander chavez, held hands all the way through NYC. it was his "duty" as your "personal bodyguard" to keep you safe at all times throughout the horrors of big cities. you always dragged him everywhere, designer stories, candy stores, beauty stores, shoe stores, etc. but he honestly didn't care, he just loved seeing his little princess so happy. you and nicholas had a pretty big age gap, you being younger and him being older by 6 years. but who says ages matter? you were both adults, perfectly happy together, and the cutest couple on the streets of NYC. you dragged nicholas onto the subway by his pinky wrapped around yours, on your way to the next clothing store you yearned to shop at. when you both slipped through the doors of the subway in downtown NYC, there was only one seat left. nicholas wasnt phased, "sit, princess" he'd say as he reached out his arm pointing to the openly free seat. "are you sure?" you would say in reply to him with the softest eyes. nicholas would nod in response to you as you sat down, your tiny skirt riding up your thigh exposing much more skin then nicholas enjoyed but didn't say anything. nicholas wasn't an insecure man, he knew you wanted him only and he only wanted you, he was comfortable with whatever you did and whatever you wore but today he was challenged. the mini skirt you wore, along with the skin tight crop top without a bra, allowing your nipples to peak through the thin fabric. with the revealance of your clothing, nicholas stepped in front of you to cover up the beautiful body of a princess that belonged to him. as he stood in front of you, he couldn't resist the urge to look at the way your skirt cupped your titties so nicely, how high your mini skirt rides up your thigh, it was making his harder by the second. you watched him as his eyes examined your body through his big sunglasses. why not have a little fun with it? you asked yourself, bringing one hand up to your chest, swirling your finger across your nipples. as you continued, you watched as a bulge appeared at the hem of his jeans, smiling and giggling as it became bigger. nicholas wasn't entirely very pleased of this interaction, bringing one hand up to your chin and holding firmly as he turned your head and bent down in front of you to bring his mouth closer to your ear, "just wait till we get back to the apartment, princess" he'd whisper to you seductively and leaving you with a kiss on the cheek. you put one leg on top of the other trying to contain the pulse you felt in your pussy as you heard his words, excited but scared for what he might do to make you pay for your little show.

#4rafe #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez fic #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas chavez smut #monsters netflix #grotesquerie #father charlie #father charlie mayhew #cooper koch #monsters: the lyle and erik menendez story #lyle menendez

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aerialmirrorss · 7 months ago

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𝐝 𝐚 𝐲 𝐥 𝐢 𝐠 𝐡 𝐭 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ nicholas a. chavez

playing: 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 by taylor swift 𝜗𝜚˚｡˚ ⋆

synopsis! reader woke up late for work but nicholas, your boyfriend, wishes to stay in bed longer..

paring: nicholas chavez x fem!reader

warnings: lots of fluff , sexual content + unprotected sex! oral (f! receiving) , fingering , mature , 18+ (minors dni!)

word count: 2.5k

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡

Soft sunlight filters through the thin slats of your bedroom window shades, casting patterns of light and shadow across the room. It’s not abrupt, but rather a slow increase in brightness that touches your closed eyelids, warming your skin and pulling you out of your dream. The room becomes bathed in a soft, golden glow, and as you blink awake, the light feels like a quiet reminder of the world waiting outside.

However, behind you with an arm draped around your waist and soft snores coming from his slightly parted lips laid your boyfriend, Nicholas, making you want to tell the world to fuck off, turn off the lights, and try again another day.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you rubbed your eyes and stretched your arms making a half-asleep Nicholas stir. You smile softly and turn to face him with his eyes still shut. You ran your fingers through his tousled hair, briefly wondering how bad your own must look, before softly whispering, “Good morning.”

He hums softly, wrapping his hand around your wrist as it rests in his hair and brings it to his lips, placing a chaste kiss to your pulse. In a raspy voice, he murmurs, “Good morning, baby.”

“How’d you sleep?” You ask, your voice still low, not wanting to disrupt the stillness of this peaceful moment. It’s only Nick’s second time spending the night in your New York City apartment, the first just two nights ago.

He exhales peacefully, drawing you closer until your legs are tangled with his. “Your bed feels like sleeping on a cloud,” he murmurs.

You giggle at the sudden movement, watching as Nick plays with your fingers. Then he looks up and asks, “What are your plans for today?”

You groan at the thought of returning to reality. “I have to be at work by 8:30. I’m presenting a pitch for a headline, so I should probably start getting ready since it’s—” You stop to glance at his watch as he gently strokes the back of your hand.

“8:29?! No, no, no—fuck!” You quickly untangle yourself from his arms and get up, Nick’s shirt skimming the tops of your bare thighs as you fumble to put on your slippers. Just as you’re about to rush out of the room, Nick grabs your wrist and pulls you back into bed.

Before you knew it, your back was against the mattress again, pinned beneath Nick’s steady gaze.

“I love that shirt on you,” he uttered softly.

“Nicholas c’mon.” You ignore his remark, wiggling beneath him trying to free yourself. He however, seemed to have taken that as a damn challenge.

A smirk tugs on his pink lips before he leans down to ghost his lips against yours, teasing. It was almost like a test to see if you were gonna resist. But when you didn’t, he leaned down once again, capturing your lips between his in a slow, deliberate kiss.

In that moment, it felt as if the world slowed and everything narrowed down to just the two of you. The softness of his lips brushing against yours, a gentle pull, sparked a sensation that coursed through your entire body. There was an unspoken connection, an effortless sync as you responded to each other’s movements, and the kiss deepened naturally. His breath mingled with yours, and his touch was both tender and intense, filled with desire. Time became irrelevant; you could have stayed in that moment forever. Nothing else mattered except the feeling and Nicholas.

Nicholas. Nicholas. Nicholas...

He was all your mind could focus on.

His lips parted from yours with a soft, wet sound before trailing down your cheek, behind your ear, and slowly along your neck. The slow descent of his kisses gave your mind a fleeting chance to gather a coherent thought.

"Nick— I really need to get going," you breathe, trying to summon a resolve that feels distant in the moment.

"Do you?" he murmurs against your skin, gently nipping at your neck before soothing the spot with his tongue, drawing a gasp from your lips.

He knew all of your vulnerabilities, every spot that made you gasp for air, craving more, and he was definitely using it to his advantage. But you weren’t exactly upset about that.

Nicholas was feeling it just as intensely. Your sweet sighs and tugging of his hair as he suckled on your neck made all the blood in his body rush straight to his cock, leaving him a needy mess. And it didn’t help when he sucked on that sweet spot behind your ear, making your back arch into him and accidentally grazing his hard, throbbing bulge.

He let out a low groan at the small amount of contact and was desperate for more. Once again, his lips were on yours, more hungry and ravenous than ever. You felt the air leave your lungs when he rolled his hips into yours feeling every inch of him. The repeated action of his hips grinding into yours made you let out the softest moans against his lips, and that sound alone was enough to make Nicholas go wild.

He pulls away for a second to catch his breath as you do the same, though his hips never stop their mindless rutting against yours. He was so drunk on the taste of you, he couldn’t help but start rambling.

“Feel that? Feel what you do to me, pretty girl? Hm?” He’s breathless against your lips as he ground his hips against yours more intently, making you feel him through the barrier of your blue lace panties and his black boxer briefs.

At this point, you were ready to get fired.

Nothing would be able to drag you away from this moment with Nick, not even your fucking job.

All you could do to respond is moan into the air, hoping he wouldn’t stop. His fingers trail down to the hem of his t-shirt on your body. He lifted it just enough to reveal your navel and abdomen, kissing along the fabric as his head traveled lower and lower.

You wasted no time in discarding the nuisance item of clothing leaving you in just your underwear.

Nicholas left gentle kisses along your abdomen, trailing down in between your thighs, all the way to your ankles, then back up again.

“You’re perfect,” He whispers against your skin, his words sending shivers down your spine.

His eyes darkened as they lingered on what he craved the most, groaning in approval at the wet spot left on your underwear. You were soaking and Nicholas was ready to have a taste of your sweet nectar.

He planted a gentle kiss on your pelvis just above the little blue bow of your underwear, dragging his lips against you until he stopped right at the center.

Looking up at you through his long lashes, with a raspy voice he asks, “is this okay?”

You nod, breathlessly answering “yes.” And with that he wasted no time.

His lips pressed against your clit through the fabric, stealing your breath away. When his tongue slid slowly over the damp fabric, you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped, and he smirked against you.

“Look at you. So wet for me," he rambled, pulling the lace to the side to finally see you.

His finger glided through your folds, and he brought it to his lips, sucking it clean with his eyes closed in satisfaction.

The sight before you is so pornographic it makes you rut your hips up instinctively in hopes for some kind of friction which has him chuckling. He stops teasing you and discards your last item of clothing, leaving you completely exposed and bare to him.

Without warning, his flattened tongue swept a long, slow lick between your folds, making you cry out, your body reacting on its own as you ground against his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair.

You become dizzy as he begins to lap at your heat like a dehydrated kitten and your hips suddenly have a mind of their own, grinding against his face, hand shooting out to tangle between his brown locks.

His lips suction on your bundle of nerves and as your back arches, he plunges a finger in you starting a pace that has your eyes rolling.

“F-fuck!” You cry out, clenching around his digit as his tongue flicks your clit in different patterns that sends shocks throughout your body, that is until he inserts a second finger.

It’s amazing and almost pathetic how quickly he has you crumbling to pieces with just a flick of his tongue and fingers. Soon enough, you felt the knot in your lower stomach tightening, and Nick sensed it as well with a knowing smile, watching how tense your body was becoming.

“Gonna cum for me, princess? Huh?” He mumbles against you, never slowing the relentless pace of his fingers, feeling you clench around them so tightly, it makes him chuckle.

“C’mon baby, soak me. I wanna taste you,” His words push you over the edge off the cliff you were hanging on for dear life.

A string of moans leave your lips as your body begins to shake and convulse uncontrollably. His tongue rides you through the utter bliss, suckling and suctioning causing aftershock waves to jolt through you.

Nick runs his hands up and down your thighs, whispering praises, peppering you with kisses all the way up to your lips as you catch your breath.

“Feeling good?” He whispers, brushing your messy strands of hair out of your face with a soft smile. You nod, returning his smile, glancing at his sheen chest, running your fingers up and down it.

Your gaze then drifts down to the bulge in his briefs, begging for attention to which you trail further down, palming him with light pressure.

Nick’s head falls into the pillow beside you, a low moan escaping his lips at the friction his cock was aching for.

“Fuck— baby, don’t,” He babbles, gasping as you reach into his briefs and release his shaft from the tight confines, pumping him slowly.

You feel the heat in your belly flare up again at his desperate sounds of relief, and begin to tap the tip of his cock against your clit, teasing the both of you.

Nick crashes his lips to yours in a needy haze, both gasping as you line him up with your entrance and start inching forward so slowly it’s practically torture.

You’re so slick with arousal, there’s minimal resistance to his intrusion as you feel your muscles stretching to accommodate around him. You both let out a euphoric moan when he fills you completely, stilling himself and relishing in the feeling of your warm, wet walls.

“God—” He strains against your mouth, “I don’t think I'll ever get over how amazing you feel, angel.”

You moan softly at his words, rutting your hips against his, “please...” you beg, voice trembling.

He smiles against your lips giving you a quick peck, “please what, baby—hm? Tell me what you need.”

You whine in frustration, rocking your hips up once again, to which he takes as an opportunity to sneak his arm under the small of your back and pin you up against his chest. “What do you need, love?”

Before you could form a coherent sentence, he thrusts his hips forward once, the slap of your skin on his echoing in your bedroom which pulls a sharp gasp from your lips.

Then again, and again, and again.

“That what you need, sweetheart?” He pants, starting a pace that has you a mess of strained moans, matching the rhythm of his hips. “Need me to fuck into you like this huh?”

You can't help when your hands tangle in his hair, pulling on it as you cry out when his hips pull back and slams into you with such force, it makes your entire body jolt.

His pace quickens as he rests his forehead against your own, the small actions of you tugging at his hair seeming to enrage him more.

The sounds that echoed in the softly sunlit bedroom were the wet slaps of your skin colliding and a string of profanities and pants coming from the both of you, your walls clenching tightly around him as the tip of his cock hit your sweet spot over and over again with each thrust, sending you into a spiral.

You could feel the knot in your lower tummy starting to get tighter and tighter, your muscles flexing around him as you feel yourself quivering and he can certainly feel it too. His head drops down next to yours letting out low groans, never stopping his ruthless thrusts and determination setting.

“That’s it baby, one more, please.” He whines in your ear, kissing your neck and fingers landing on your bundle of nerves to spur you on alongside his sharp thrusts.

“Fuck— Nick, I’m gonna cum,” You warn, feeling yourself start to clench around his cock, to which he keeps his relentless pace to finally push you over the edge.

You let out one last strangled moan as the knot inside of you snaps, digging your nails into his back, your head thrown back as your entire body convulses.

He buried his head into your neck, slamming into you so feverishly to drive you deeper into ecstasy and once you come down is when his thrusts start to become sloppy and moans louder.

He suddenly jolts forward, sobbing out moans through his teeth, feeling his warmth paint your walls white. He collapses on top of you, both breathing so heavily as the aftershocks of your orgasms rolling out of you.

Neither of you could move, relinquishing in each other’s company and trying to recover from the sensations you both just experienced.

After a while of sweet silence and whispering sweet nothings and praises to you, he rolls onto his side, bringing you closer to him.

He plants a soft kiss to the side of your head, drawing patterns on your arm with his fingers.

“I should probably call off now,” You suddenly say to which he responds with a snort.

He reaches down to level himself with your plump and swollen lips, stealing a kiss. “Yeah, you’re gonna be pretty busy the rest of this afternoon, angel.”

#⋆ ˚𝐚𝐫𝐢𝜗𝜚writes #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas chavez fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas chavez smut #Spotify

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oldsoul007 · 6 months ago

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taste

nicholas chavez x ex!reader

a/n: no disrespect to either of them or relationship all of this is just fiction!

Nicholas and y/n had a special connection when they dated. Their time together was filled with laughter, shared secrets, and memorable moments. However, as life moved on, they drifted apart, and Nicholas eventually found himself in a new relationship with a girl named Victoria.

Victoria is wonderful—kind, smart, and everything Nicholas could ask for in a girlfriend. Yet, despite his happiness with her, y/n is always in the back of his mind. He often finds himself reminiscing about the times he spent with y/n, the unique bond they shared, and the way she understood him like no one else.

Even though Nicholas tries to focus on his present with Victoria, there are moments when a song, a place, or a random memory brings y/n back to the forefront of his thoughts. He wonders how she's doing, if she thinks about him too, and whether their paths will cross again. This lingering presence of y/n in his mind makes him question if he ever truly moved on, or if a part of him will always belong to her.

Nicholas and Victoria were out for a casual stroll one Saturday afternoon when they unexpectedly ran into y/n. The encounter took Nicholas by surprise, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Y/n looked as beautiful and confident as ever, and seeing her brought a rush of memories flooding back.

"Hey, y/n. It's been a while. How have you been?" Nicholas asked, trying to keep his composure.

"I've been good. Just busy with work and everything. How about you?" Y/n replied with a warm smile.

"I've been alright. This is Victoria, by the way. Victoria, this is y/n," Nicholas introduced them, his voice slightly shaky.

"Nice to meet you, y/n!" Victoria said cheerfully.

"Nice to meet you too, Victoria. So, what have you been up to, Nicholas?" Y/n asked, her eyes lingering on him.

"Oh, you know, just the usual. Work's been keeping me busy. It's really good to see you, though," Nicholas responded, feeling a mix of emotions.

"Yeah, it's good to see you too. You look well," y/n said, her smile softening.

"Thanks. You too," Nicholas managed to say, his mind racing.

Victoria, sensing the tension, chimed in, "We should catch up sometime, all of us. It would be fun."

"Sure, that sounds nice," y/n agreed. "Well, I should get going. It was great running into you both."

"Yeah, take care, y/n," Nicholas said, watching her walk away.

As y/n disappeared into the crowd, Nicholas couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. He realized that his feelings for her were still very much alive, leaving him deep in thought about what to do next.

Victoria and Nicholas had been having a wonderful evening at home when the topic of y/n came up. It started innocently enough, with Nicholas mentioning their recent encounter.

"You know, it was really nice seeing y/n the other day," Nicholas said, trying to keep his tone casual.

Victoria's expression changed slightly. "Yeah, it was. But, Nicholas, I've noticed you talk about her a lot lately."

Nicholas looked puzzled. "What do you mean? She's just an old friend."

"Is she really just an old friend?" Victoria asked, her voice growing more tense. "Because it feels like there's more to it."

Nicholas sighed. "Victoria, you're overthinking this. Y/n and I have history, but that's all in the past. You're the one I'm with now."

Victoria shook her head. "I don't know, Nicholas. It just feels like there's something unresolved between you two. And it bothers me."

Nicholas's frustration began to show. "What do you want me to do, Victoria? I can't erase my past. Y/n is a part of it, but she doesn't have to be a threat to us."

"I just need to know that you're fully committed to us," Victoria said, her eyes pleading.

"I am committed to us," Nicholas said firmly. "But I can't change the fact that y/n was a big part of my life. You have to trust me."

Victoria looked away, tears welling up in her eyes. "It's hard to trust when I see how you look at her."

Nicholas softened, stepping closer to her. "Victoria, I love you. I'll do whatever it takes to make you feel secure. But you have to believe me when I say that y/n is just a friend now."

Victoria nodded slowly, wiping her tears. "Okay, Nicholas. I believe you. But let's not talk about y/n anymore. Let's focus on us."

"Agreed," Nicholas said, pulling her into a hug. "Let's focus on us."

As they held each other, Nicholas hoped that this would be the end of the tension between them. He knew he had to prove his commitment to Victoria and make sure she felt secure in their relationship.

Nicholas and Victoria were at the local bar when they unexpectedly bumped into y/n again. It was a moment of surprise for all three, but Victoria's reaction was different. As she watched Nicholas and y/n exchange warm smiles and familiar glances, something clicked in her mind. She realized that the connection between Nicholas and y/n was deeper than she had ever imagined. It was in that instant that Victoria understood the true nature of their bond, and a mix of emotions washed over her, leaving her both intrigued and contemplative about what this meant for their future.

Nicholas and Victoria were sitting in their living room when the tension that had been building up finally reached a boiling point. The topic of y/n had come up once again, and it was clear that Victoria was not happy about it.

"Nicholas, I can't believe you're still hung up on her," Victoria said, frustration evident in her voice. "Every time we run into y/n, you act like she's the only person in the room."

Nicholas sighed, rubbing his temples. "Victoria, it's not like that. Y/n and I have a history, yes, but it doesn't mean I'm still in love with her. We're just friends now."

"Friends? Really?" Victoria shot back. "Because it sure doesn't seem that way. You get this look in your eyes whenever she's around, like you're remembering something more than just a friendship."

"That's not fair," Nicholas replied, his voice rising. "I can't control how I feel. But I'm with you now, and that's what matters."

"But is it really?" Victoria asked, her eyes filling with tears. "Because it feels like I'm always competing with her ghost. I need to know that you're fully here with me, not just physically but emotionally too."

Nicholas took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Victoria, I care about you a lot. I don't want you to feel like you're second to anyone. I'm sorry if I've made you feel that way."

Victoria looked at him, her expression softening slightly. "I just need to know that I can trust you, Nicholas. That you're not going to run back to her the moment things get tough between us."

"I promise you, Victoria," Nicholas said, taking her hand. "I'm committed to us. I'll do whatever it takes to prove that to you."

As they sat there, holding each other's hands, they both realized that this was a turning point in their relationship. They had to work through these issues if they wanted to move forward together.

Nicholas had been feeling increasingly guilty about his relationship with Victoria. He knew deep down that he couldn't continue pretending everything was fine. One evening, he finally mustered the courage to talk to her.

"Victoria, we need to talk," Nicholas began, his voice heavy with emotion. "I can't keep doing this. It's not fair to you or to me. I still have feelings for y/n, and it's not right to lead you on."

Victoria looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of hurt and understanding. "I knew this was coming, Nicholas. I just hoped things would change."

"I'm so sorry," Nicholas said, his heart breaking at the sight of her tears. "You deserve someone who can give you their whole heart, and I can't do that right now."

After the difficult conversation, Nicholas felt a weight lift off his shoulders, but he was also filled with a sense of loss. He decided to reach out to y/n, needing someone to talk to.

"Y/n, I ended things with Victoria," he confessed over the phone. "I couldn't keep pretending. But now, I feel so lost."

Y/n’s voice was gentle but firm. "Nicholas, I still love you, but we can't be together. Not right now. You need to figure things out for yourself first."

Nicholas sighed, feeling the sting of her words. "I understand, y/n. I just needed to hear your voice."

They both knew that this was a time for healing and self-discovery. Even though they couldn't be together, their connection remained a source of comfort and strength for Nicholas.

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholaschavezimagines #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas alexander chavez fanfic #nicholas chavez imagines #nicholas chavez fluff #nicholas alexander chavez fanfiction #nicholas alexander chavez Imagines

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iamsebastiansstan · 3 months ago

Text

our inner secrets - stepbro!NAC x fem!reader

summary - “You’ll let me fuck you,” he states, knows her like the back of his hand.

She nods, tears welling up in her eyes.

“This is so fucked up,” she sniffs, reaches up to wipe at her face.

She hates to cry in front of him, yet he loves to make her.

“We’re fucked up,” he says.

wc- 3.3k - MINORS DNI!

warnings - stepcest obvs, dirty talk, p in v, 69, comeplay, cheating, face and ass slapping, breeding kink, mentions of their sexual relationships having started when they were both underage, Nicholas is a little manipulative

A/N - I got a request for stepbrother Nicholas and well, what can I say, I did my best. this took me two hours so it's not my greatest but I still hope you like it, anon Darling 💘 lemme know what y'all think!

taglist - @hoffmansgirl / @blackynsupremacy / @lalavenderangel / @nicholaschavezbby / @niteskysx / @motherismotheringggg / @emluvsuxo / @urlitttlevenicebitch

The sun warms her back as she’s lounging by the pool, face hidden in her arms. She can hear the neighbor’s kids splashing in their own pool, but they sound far away, the buzzing of a bee flying by, the wind as it gently glides through the tulips at the edge of the garden.

Summer days like these are her favorite, peaceful and calm, with enough time to do whatever her heart desires. She deserves it, she thinks, after the semester she’s had.

The sound of the sliding doors opening and closing make her ears perk up, but she doesn’t look to see who it is, she knows already. Their parents are on vacation for the rest of the week, leaving them in charge of the house.

Well, mainly her, because her stepbrother can’t be trusted. She’s surprised he hasn’t asked to invite his friends from the frat over yet.

Soft footsteps pad through the grass, coming to a halt next to her. Despite her eyes being closed, she can sense the shadow his tall figure casts over her.

“Did you think to put on sunscreen?” Nicholas asks, too close to her ear to be standing upright. He must have crouched down next to her.

Keeping her eyes shut, she mumbles against her arm, “Of course.”

He hums. A faint, tickling sensation moves up her spine, his finger tracing each and every cartilage along her back. She shivers, the heat of the sun making her sensitive to his touch, humming when he stops at the seam of her bikini bottom, right at the top of her ass.

“I heard you two last night,” he says conversationally, almost absent-mindedly, but his words make her stiffen slightly. “He doesn’t fuck you well enough, does he?”

She doesn’t want to have this conversation, but she knows he’ll find a way to pull the truth from her one way or another. She decides to save them both the hassle.

“No,” she drawls, “no, he does not.”

Another deep hum from him, his hand continuing its featherlight touch.

“You need it, though, don’t you? There’s no way your hand satisfies you enough.”

“Toy,” she says before she can think better of it, cursing herself for divulging that unnecessary tidbit of information.

“What’s that?”

“Not my hand. I- I use a toy.”

Nicholas chuckles, moves his hand up to stroke through her hair. She still refuses to look at him.

“Let me be that for you,” he coaxes, the honey-sweet drip of his voice curling around her throat like a deadly snake, “You didn’t give up fucking me to stay loyal to a man that can’t even make you finish, did you?”

Annoyance flares brightly in her chest, makes her open her eyes and glare at him with as much heat as she can muster up, makes her sit up and bat his hands away from her body.

“I gave up fucking you because it’s wrong, Nicholas,” she snaps, grabs the cover up and puts it on to hide as much of her body from him as she can. “You’re my brother. We grew up together, for fuck’s sake.”

“Technically, that’s not true.”

Technically, he’s right.

Nicholas and his father entered her life when she was fourteen and shortly after her fifteenth birthday, Nicholas- two years her senior- made a move on her, corrupted her innocence and took all her firsts for himself, the firsts that should have been given to someone who did not share a fucking household with her.

Naively, she thought there was nothing wrong with it all those years ago, their relation bound to a piece of paper and not biology, but as she grew older, she started understanding how messed up their little dynamic actually was. She started understanding that she needed to get away, find what she had in him with someone else.

That’s when Andrew came along, almost six months ago, and stole her heart away. It was new, exciting, perfect, until it wasn’t. Now it’s just the same old boring conversations, the same tired repetitive fights, the same unfulfilling short fucks that have her sneak into the bathroom after he’s fast asleep to get herself off to the thought of her brother, of all people.

She misses him, body and soul, but she keeps choosing to let her mind decide.

“Technically, I don’t give a fuck,” she hisses, getting up to walk into the house, far away from where he stays crouched down on the grass.

The kitchen counter feels cold where she’s gripping it, trying to quiet her racing thoughts. It’s not like this is the first time Nicholas has tried to change her mind. He would come up to her periodically, in the beginning, sneak doubts into her ears until he had her close to calling it quits with Andrew. When she stayed stubborn, he stopped.

It’s been a while since he’s brought it up, and so fucking blatantly like today, at that. She doesn’t do well with being caught off guard.

Her eyes close on instinct when he steps up behind her, hand finding her stomach and pushing her against him, making her feel the hard line of his body. It’s been so long since she’s had him this close, since she’s smelled him, strong cologne and a hint of sweat from the heat of the day. She wants to bury her nose in his neck and inhale him, kiss her way down his torso, breathe in where he’s most fragrant.

It's been a long time since she’s had an orgasm that wasn’t caused by her own doing, as well, and it shows.

“You’ll let me fuck you,” he states, knows her like the back of his hand.

She nods, tears welling up in her eyes.

“This is so fucked up,” she sniffs, reaches up to wipe at her face.

She hates to cry in front of him, yet he loves to make her.

“We’re fucked up,” he says, she can feel him shrug, before he moves her hair out of the way to expose the side of her neck, leaning down to kiss and nibble at her skin.

She can’t help but ask it, jealousy rearing its ugly head even though it has got no right to.

“Are you with someone?”

Nicholas chuckles against her, bites down on her sensitive flesh and makes her cry out.

“Not like that,” he concedes, “just casually. You know me.”

She does. She hated it back then, even, but it’s not like she could ask him to stop. He’s always been that way, apparently. Staying by himself would’ve been suspicious, so he kept his little rolodex of girls for the weekends while fucking his stepsister to sleep every weeknight.

It’s depraved to think about, but she’s hot for it, the taboo of their relationship making her pussy tingle.

“Nicholas,” she moans when he licks along her shoulder, kisses his way up her ear and nips at the lobe while his hands find her breasts, kneading them gently, teasing her by not going for her sensitive nipples.

He’s taught her everything she knows, and he uses the way he’s shaped her to his advantage, plays her like a fiddle.

“I’ve missed hearing you moan my name,” he whispers, grabs the material of her coverup and pulls it off her, she lets him, because this has been a losing game since the second it started. “I’ve missed you. Those little boys can’t give you what your big brother can, baby.”

A whine claws its way up her throat, mind spinning with the nastiness he’s spewing, tapping into their roles the way they used to, the way that makes her core tighten.

“No,” she agrees, gripping his forearm as his hand pushes past the material of her bikini, makes contact with her wet folds. “They can’t, nobody can.”

“That’s right, atta girl,” Nicholas says, and his praise lifts her higher than she thought possible, the craving for it hitting her full force, like the detox from it never happened. “You’re wet for me already. Desperate?”

Her teeth clink together as she grits them against the onslaught of pleasure at his fingers toying with her sensitive clit, burning from neglect, the blood rushing into her flesh and making her chase ecstasy with a one-track-mind.

She refuses to give in to him. He makes her, anyways.

“Answer me, (Y/N),” he hisses, tuts at her refusal, takes his hands away and leaves her grasping the counter so she wouldn’t fall in on herself. “Fine, have it your way.”

Nicholas is about to walk off, act like nothing ever happened, and this is the route he’s taken many times, pent her up and left her hanging until she was a blubbering mess. She hasn’t changed at all, it seems, as she debates giving up and begging him for what she needs. Those feelings make tears spring to her eyes, unsure if it’s from the sexual frustration or her disappointment in herself.

“No, please!” she whines, goes after him to grab onto his arm, make him stop walking away from her, and before she knows it, she finds herself pushed against the wall with his strong hand around her throat, squeezing.

“Please, what?” he spits, shakes her until a cry bubbles up her throat, “Make up your mind you indecisive fuckin’ slut.”

“Take me,” she whimpers, air constricted by his tight grip, “fuck me, Nicholas, please.”

It takes a second for him to pull away before she feels the sharp sting against her cheek, skin undoubtedly blossoming red. It makes her gasp, but it also makes her wet, so it’s a fair trade.

“You know better than that.”

Teary-eyed and sniffling, she straightens up and reaches out to touch him, wrap her arms around his sturdy neck as she looks up at him and begs, “Please, big brother, fuck me.”

A dirty smirk finds its place on his sinful lips, and she gazes up into his impossibly dark eyes, braces herself for just how good he’s going to give it to her, now that they haven’t had each other for a while. He grabs her face and kisses her hard, hiking her leg up his hip to line their bodies up, grinding against her aching center. She can feel him through his swim shorts, his hard cock straining against the material, and she feels her mouth water for it.

“Wanna blow you,” she gasps when he pulls away, lifts her so he can carry her to the couch.

“Suck my cock while I lick your pussy,” he groans, rips her bikini off of her unceremoniously.

It’s not her favorite, that position, but only because he always licks her so good that she loses focus, stops sucking him expertly and instead just keeps him in her whining mouth, slobbering all over it, all slop and no finesse.

That’s why he loves it, she knows.

Nick’s shorts are off in an instant and he lets himself fall back against the couch, pulls her hastily so her dripping pussy is hovering above his mouth, making her scream when he finally, finally closes his lips around her and sucks.

“Goddamn it,” she moans, bucks her hips because she can’t help it, loving the attention he immediately gives her clit.

She remembers the first time he did this to her, and how she kept begging him to do it again and again for days after. He always did, always prioritized her pleasure, and with that in mind she lets saliva pool in her mouth and decides to do her best to pleasure him right back. Taking him deep has never been an issue for her, too addicted to the smell and the taste of his fat cock, and the glob of spit eases the way as she sinks him into her throat in one go.

“Fucking hell!” he roars, smacks her ass once, twice, three times, before diving back in and pushing his sinful tongue into her hole.

Nicholas doesn’t just lick pussy, he makes out with it, gets his nose and chin drenched as he tongue-fucks her opening, that attention to detail something that belongs to her only. You’re my little sister, he once said, and I need to set a standard for how others have to treat you. So, he always put his all into fucking her, ruining her for everyone else in the process. She’s never found a man this dedicated to her ecstasy ever again.

The salty taste of him against her tongue paired with the way he immediately starts snapping his hips up makes her want to come for him right then and there. He’s never gentle with it, holding her down by her hair as he carves a home into her throat that holds the perfect shape of his cock, slaps his full balls against her chin so she has to put up a fight not to pull off and suck them into her mouth, instead. She loves gargling at his sac while he jerks off, their favorite move when they have to sneak away during Christmas dinners and family birthdays, when there’s not enough time for him to wreck her like they both want him to. She usually comes with her mouth full and a hand on her pussy, then.

It’s one of her favorite memories, one that spurs her on to stick her tongue out as far as it will go to lap at his base, let him know how much she craves it.

“God, your throat’s like a fucking cunt,” he laughs manically, nipping at her pussylips, “no difference in how hard you let me fuck it.”

She nods, moans in confirmation, lets him drill in deep as she feels her own peak approaching. Usually she asks, a well-trained good girl for her big brother, but he won’t let her up for air, won’t let her catch her breath as he pummels her into a toe-curling orgasm, hitting her so hard with it that she gets dizzy.

Nicholas laughs at the way she gags around him through a cry, pulls away and lets her ride it out on his outstretched tongue, gently pushing her off of him when she’s nothing more than a shaking mess.

“When’s the last time you came like this?” he asks with a broad grin on his face, chin glistening.

She sits up and pulls him in for a kiss, licks at his mouth and his face, cleans her juices off his chiseled jaw.

“Last time you made me come like that.”

He chuckles, kisses her forehead as he gets up.

“On your back, legs over your head. Show off for me, baby.”

His command is casual, he doesn’t have to try to get her to listen, and she immediately does what he asked.

She looks at him under her lashes as she holds the back of her knees, spreading herself open for him, moans when he grips his cock and starts jerking it tightly at the sight of her. Although he plays her, jerks her around, keeps her for his amusement, she knows that deep down, he’s just as gone for her as she is for him, his pretty little project, the fucktoy he’s made for himself over the years.

“Have you given him all of what’s mine?” he husks while his hand moves steadily over his throbbing cock.

Immediately she shakes her head no, halfway to offended that he’d even insinuate something like that.

“My pussy’s only ever had your come inside,” she pouts, makes her eyes extra wide, knows he gets off on her faux innocence.

“That’s a good girl, fuck. Big brother’s gonna breed you up real good now, okay?”

“God, please,” she can’t help but breathe, desperate for the feel of him pushing inside until she feels like he’s filling up her lungs.

“Watch, baby,” he says, lines his beautiful pink tip up with her clenching hole, “watch where we connect. That’s it, just like that, take it.”

He has to fuck into her slowly, holding the base while thrusting shallowly, her body not used to his size anymore, and all the while they both watch how he enters her, how he stretches her to get to the place where he belongs. When he bottoms out, he slowly pulls away again, both letting out a moan in unison at the sight of her pussy creaming on his cock, leaving a white sheen behind.

“Need’a work her in, huh?” he smirks, and she’d laugh if she had the brain capacity to do so, instead just locking eyes with him as he speeds up, fucks into her with vigor now that he knows she’s ready for it.

Nicholas always hits her cervix, always has, but he’s taught her how to push through the pain, how to angle her hips just so to get his pelvis to hit her clit with every single snap forward. It helps, the sharp pleasure contrasting the dull pain, and she lets him deep into her guts the way a little sister is supposed to, the way he drilled it into her mind all those years ago.

She grits her teeth when he goes particularly hard, particularly deep, but the loving way he looks at her, brushes the hair off her forehead, gives her his thumb to suck on as he whispers, “I know, baby, I know. You’re doing so good f’me, gonna earn my come in no time,” makes her push through the pain, going lax and letting herself get manhandled however he pleases.

“’m close,” she whimpers, nails digging into the skin of her thighs to distract herself from her rapidly approaching peak. She’s not allowed, not until he says.

“So am I,” he pants and it’s relief that washes over her, soon she’ll be able to let go and bask in the euphoria only he can provide for her. “You ready for my load, baby? Wan’ it?”

“Fuck, please, yes. Together, ‘kay, let’s come together, please-“

“Ah, fuck, let go for me, lil’ sis,” he grunts as he buries himself to the tilt and stays there, spills into her while her pussy spasms around her, clenching around the delicious pulse of his cock inside of her.

Nicholas is the type of guy to keep thrusting, to fuck his load into a well-fed cunt, watch the way his seed sticks to his hot flesh as he pumps it in even more. He pulls out with a wince, apologetic eyes on her as she cries out.

“That’s gorgeous,” he mumbles, “missed seeing this shit. Push it out f’me, c’mon.”

Of course she obeys him, has no other choice, too fucked out and sore to have a mind of her own. He holds his hand out and she bears down, pushes his come out of her cunt and lets him collect it with a dirty snarl.

“Fuck yeah, that’s my girl. Nasty fucking thing,” he scoffs, all heat, before he grabs her face with his clean hand, squeezes her cheeks until her mouth opens and her tongue sticks out dumbly, soiled hand smearing his come across her lips and tongue. “Gotta feed as many holes as I can, don’t I?”

She laps it up, thanks him for it, sucks his fingers clean, lets him grab her hair to shove his cock down her throat once more, so she wouldn’t waste a drop for their combined juices.

“The rest stays inside, maybe it’ll take, hm?” he grins, kisses her mouth through the moan that rips from her.

“Yeah,” she whines, all pathetic for him, chases his lips for more kisses, “wanna swell up with your baby, all full of you.”

He smacks her around a little, slow on the comedown, goads her into spreading her legs again with disgusting little fantasies, “Gotta keep it in the family,” and as he pushes his cock into her fucked-open pussy, she knows she’ll never want to give it up to anyone the way she gives it up to him.

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nicnak20 · 9 days ago

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Fallen for you:

*Dr. Mayhew finds himself falling for a patient- against protocol.*

The hushed, sterile quiet of the hospital corridor was Dr. Charlie Mayhew’s second home. He navigated it with the easy familiarity of someone who belonged, his dark brown slicked hair neatly in place, brown eyes kind yet sharp behind his professional demeanor. He was known as much for his gentle touch and patient explanations as he was for his sharp diagnostic mind. Kind, sweet, warm, professional – all words colleagues and patients used to describe him. But lately, another word had begun to creep into his internal lexicon whenever he thought about Room 312: captivated.

Y/n. The name itself felt warm on his tongue, though he only ever used their surname or addressed them respectfully during rounds. Y/n was recovering from a complex procedure, requiring consistent follow-up and physiotherapy to regain full mobility. From their very first appointment, Y/n had struck him. Not just by their quiet resilience or their polite smile despite obvious discomfort, but by the sheer depth of their innate kindness.

They were unfailingly patient with the nurses, understanding when delays occurred, warm in their interactions with everyone on the ward. Despite their own vulnerability, there was a gentle strength about them, a calm quiet that radiated outwards. Charlie, usually adept at maintaining professional distance, found himself lingering a moment longer in Y/n's room, finding excuses to check the chart again, asking extra questions about their comfort levels.

He saw Y/n’s doting gratitude towards the nurses who helped with mundane tasks, their innocent curiosity about the medical equipment, the small, genuine laugh that occasionally escaped them during a particularly challenging physio session. Y/n was intelligent, picking up on medical advice quickly, and responded to his explanations with insightful questions. Their eyes, soft and expressive, held a depth that drew him in.

His initial professional concern for a patient's recovery slowly, subtly, morphed into something else entirely. He started looking forward to their appointments with an eagerness that was frankly alarming. He’d find himself thinking about Y/n outside of work hours – wondering if they were comfortable, if the pain was manageable, if they’d managed that difficult exercise. He remembered small details Y/n mentioned about their life outside the hospital – a beloved pet, a favorite book, a simple pleasure they missed.

He knew, intellectually, that this was a dangerous path. A doctor falling for a patient was a cliché he’d always scoffed at, a boundary he strictly enforced in his own practice. Yet, here he was, losing sleep thinking about Y/n’s progress, his pulse quickening slightly when he saw their name on his schedule.

He was scrupulously professional during their interactions. His touch remained clinically assessment-focused during examinations, his voice steady and informative when discussing treatment plans. But internally, a battle raged. His devotion to patient care warred with a burgeoning, undeniable devotion to Y/n as a person, separate from their medical needs.

As the weeks went by, Y/n made remarkable progress. Their resilience, combined with dedicated effort, meant they were nearing the end of their in-patient stay, transitioning to outpatient physiotherapy. Each step forward for Y/n's physical recovery was a knot tightening in Charlie's chest. The professional reason for their interactions was dissolving. Soon, Y/n would walk out of Room 312, out of his ward, and potentially out of his life forever.

The thought was unbearable.

He sat in his office late one evening, the glow of his desk lamp illuminating stacks of patient files. Y/n’s file was on top. He traced the neat lettering of their name. He had never felt anything like this – this potent mix of admiration, tenderness, and a fierce, protective warmth. He, Dr. Charlie Mayhew, the composed, professional physician, was madly, inconveniently, hopelessly in love with his patient.

The conflict was agonizing. Could he, in good conscience, blur that line? Was it fair to Y/n, who had trusted him implicitly during a vulnerable time? The professional code screamed at him. But his heart, his mind, every fiber of his being felt drawn to Y/n with an undeniable force.

He thought of Y/n's kind smiles, their patient endurance through pain, the way their eyes lit up when discussing something they cared about. He couldn't just let that disappear. He had always been firm in his professional decisions, but he realized he could be firm in his personal desires too, provided he approached it with respect and absolute clarity.

He made a decision. A bold, terrifying, necessary decision. He would wait until Y/n was officially discharged, or at the very final follow-up where the professional doctor-patient relationship was clearly concluding. Then, he would speak. He would put his heart on the line, acknowledge the boundary he was stepping near (though not across, not while they were actively under his direct care), and ask, humbly but firmly, for a chance.

The final follow-up appointment arrived. Y/n walked into his office with a confident step remarkable given where they had started. They looked healthier, stronger, their eyes brighter. Charlie went through the motions of the check-up, the explanation of the remaining outpatient plan, the congratulations on Y/n's incredible recovery. He was professional, warm, and thorough, just as he always was. But beneath the surface, his hands felt slightly clammy, his heart hammered against his ribs.

They finished the medical discussion. Y/n smiled, a genuine, radiant smile that always seemed to reach their eyes. "Thank you, Dr. Mayhew. Truly. For everything. You and the team... you were all wonderful."

"It was our pleasure, Y/n," Charlie said, his voice perhaps a touch softer than usual. "You were an excellent patient. So dedicated to your recovery."

A comfortable silence settled, but it felt charged. Y/n began to gather their things, the file now closed, the professional interaction complete. This was his moment. The hospital faded into the background. There was only Y/n, standing before him, no longer just a patient, but the person who had captured his heart.

He took a deep breath. "Y/n," he started, his voice low, serious.

Y/n paused, looking up, their kind eyes questioning.

Charlie stepped around his desk, putting himself on the same side as them, creating a slightly more equal footing in the small office. He maintained eye contact, his brown eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and resolve.

"There is something I need to say," he continued, choosing his words carefully. "Something that is... unprofessional, in the traditional sense. And I want you to know that you are under absolutely no obligation to respond, or to feel anything other than comfortable and respected."

Y/n tilted their head slightly, their expression one of gentle curiosity mixed with a touch of apprehension. "Okay, Dr. Mayhew?"

"Charlie, please," he said softly. "Outside of this room, outside of these walls." He paused, gathering his courage. His devotion to Y/n gave him the strength he needed. "Y/n, over these past few weeks... caring for you... getting to know you, even in this professional context... it has been... significant for me."

He saw a flicker of surprise in Y/n's eyes.

"I've been deeply impressed by your strength, your kindness, your patience," he continued, the words flowing now, fueled by genuine feeling. "And... these professional feelings... they've evolved into something much more personal."

He took another breath, his gaze unwavering sincerity. "Y/n, I have... I have fallen in love with you."

The confession hung in the air, heavy and fragile. Y/n blinked, their cheeks flushing slightly. Their earlier apprehension melted into stunned openness.

"Dr... Charlie..." Y/n murmured, clearly taken aback.

He knew he couldn't leave it there. This wasn't a casual confession; it was a plea born of deep feeling and the understanding of the barrier between them. This was the 'insisting' part – not demanding a feeling or a response, but insisting on the validity of his feelings and his desire for a chance, if Y/n could possibly entertain it.

"I know this is unexpected. I know the dynamic we've had here," he pressed on, his voice firm with honest intent, yet gentle. "And I would never, ever do anything to compromise your care, or make you feel uncomfortable, least of all now when you're doing so well." He took a small step closer, not invading their space, but emphasizing his sincerity. "But you are no longer under my immediate care. You are transitioning out of this phase."

His voice lowered, filled with earnest devotion. "What I am asking," Charlie said, his gaze pleading, "is if, when you are completely discharged from the hospital's care, when you are truly free from this environment and this dynamic... you might consider... giving me a chance. A chance to get to know you, outside of medical charts and appointment times. A chance to see if the connection I feel, the deep admiration and affection I have for you... could possibly have a future."

He held his breath, his charming smile replaced by a look of profound vulnerability. "I know it's a lot to ask. I know the circumstances are... challenging. But I couldn't not say it. My feelings for you are too strong, too real, to ignore or to let you walk away without knowing." He finished, offering a small, hopeful smile. "So please, Y/n. Consider it. Consider me. Give us a chance."

Y/n looked at him, their intelligent eyes searching his. They were silent for a long moment, processing. Charlie could see the wheels turning – the surprise, the consideration, perhaps even a recognition of something they might have felt themselves but dismissed due to the circumstances.

Finally, Y/n spoke, their voice soft but clear. "Charlie... I... I hadn't imagined... this." They paused, a small, kind smile touching their lips. "You were always so professional, but yes... I felt it too. A warmth, a connection. I just... compartmentalized it, I suppose. Because you were my doctor."

Relief, potent and sweet, flooded Charlie. They felt it too.

Y/n took a breath, their earlier flush now softer. "What you said... about waiting, about outside the hospital... I appreciate that. Very much." They looked at him again, their expression open and thoughtful. They saw the genuine care, the devotion written on his face, the sincerity in his brown eyes. They saw the kind, gentle, warm, and charming man who had also been their firm, smart, caring doctor.

A slow, hopeful smile spread across Y/n’s face. "Dr. Mayhew... Charlie," they repeated, testing the name. "Yes. I think... I think I would like that very much. When I'm done here. Yes, Charlie. I'll give us a chance."

Charlie felt his own face break into a radiant smile, one that reached his eyes and crinkled at the corners. The sterile office suddenly felt filled with light and possibility. The professional boundary was respected, the timing was right, and Y/n, kind, understanding Y/n, had said yes.

"Thank you, Y/n," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "Thank you."

He didn't reach out, not yet. Not until the last appointment was truly finished, until Y/n had stepped out of the hospital doors for the final time as a patient. But the promise hung between them, a shared secret, a budding hope.

The hospital had been the setting for their meeting, for the quiet growth of feeling, and now, it was the place where they had bravely, gently, agreed to step into a new story together. A story that would begin only when the doors of the hospital closed behind them, and the world outside waited.

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whosdinkleyhenderson · 5 months ago

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SHE'S ONE OF A KIND - MASTERLIST

INTRO

THE CAST

Y/N L/N'S BIO

PLAYLIST

CHAPTERS:

PROLOGUE/BACKGROUND STORY

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goldfades · 7 months ago

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PLAYING WITH FIRE──FATHER CHARLIE

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for this request

─ summary | a preacher's daughter becomes involved in a secret and passionate affair with a priest, challenging her strict upbringing and the expectations of her family and faith.

─ pairing | father charlie mayhew x preacher's daughter!reader

─ warnings | NSFW (with plot) under the cut. fingering, heavy make-out sessions, praise/degradation?

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

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Your father always said the church was supposed to be your sanctuary.

From the time you were old enough to sit still on a pew, the towering stained glass windows and the echo of hymns in the vaulted ceiling had been your world. Every sermon, every candlelit service, every whispered prayer had woven itself into the fabric of your life, wrapping you in a cloak of devotion that felt as natural as breathing.

Now, standing in the shadow of the altar, that cloak felt a little too tight.

The evening light filtered through the stained glass, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the stone floors. Blues and golds stretched in long, quiet beams, like the church itself was holding its breath. Outside, the world was settling into the calm of twilight, but inside, the silence felt heavier than usual. It pressed down on your shoulders, thick and stifling.

You stood there, fingertips grazing the smooth surface of the wooden pew in front of you. The familiar scent of incense and old books filled your lungs as you breathed in deeply, trying to shake off the strange feeling that had been crawling under your skin for weeks now. Something was different, though you couldn’t quite place it. The church, once a place of comfort, now felt... constricting. Maybe it was the weight of expectation—or maybe it was something else entirely, something you didn’t dare to name yet.

Your gaze drifted to the large crucifix at the front of the room, eyes tracing the well-worn details of it, the soft glow of candlelight flickering at its base. You were supposed to feel something here. Reverence. Peace. But instead, a knot twisted in your chest, a tangle of emotions you couldn’t unravel.

Footsteps echoed behind you, soft but deliberate, the sound pulling you back to the present. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You could feel his presence like the air had shifted, like the temperature in the room dropped just a fraction of a degree.

“Evening service is in an hour.”

Father Charlie’s voice, smooth and low, cut through the silence, brushing against the nape of your neck like a whisper. You swallowed, your pulse quickening, though you weren’t entirely sure why. He always had that effect on you, though you told yourself it was nothing. Just nerves. Just... respect. Nothing more.

You turned to face him, forcing a smile as you nodded. “I know. I just... wanted a moment before the crowd comes in.”

His eyes lingered on you for a beat longer than necessary, and something in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t just the way he looked at you—it was the way you felt when he did, like you were being seen for the first time, like every carefully crafted piece of who you were might unravel if you weren’t careful.

“Of course,” he replied, his voice still soft, but there was an edge to it now, something unspoken that hung in the air between you.

You looked away quickly, your fingers curling tighter around the pew. Your father’s words echoed in your mind, reminding you of your duty, of your place. You were the preacher’s daughter, after all. Everything about your life was tied to this church, to your father’s legacy, to the faith you were supposed to uphold with unwavering loyalty.

But then why did it feel like everything was starting to crack?

You forced yourself to stand taller, clearing your throat as you spoke again, your voice quieter this time. “I should probably go help with preparations.”

“Right,” Charlie said, though he didn’t move, didn’t take his eyes off you.

The silence stretched between you once more, and you could feel the weight of it, heavy and unspoken. Something was shifting, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

───

College had opened a thousand new doors for you, each one leading you further away from the world you had known for so long. The freedom was intoxicating—more than you could have imagined. Late nights spent in libraries, impromptu road trips with friends, a city that felt alive beneath your feet, humming with possibilities you had never considered. For the first time in your life, you weren’t tethered to the expectations of your family, the expectations of the church.

But even as you explored new ideas, met people who challenged the beliefs you had grown up with, and carved out space for yourself in a world much bigger than the small town you’d left behind, something kept pulling you back. A tug, a whisper, a lingering sense of obligation that gnawed at you when the campus quieted down in the early hours of the morning.

It wasn’t just the faith you were raised in that haunted you; it was the weight of your father’s voice echoing in your head, the way he spoke about duty, commitment, and sacrifice. His sermons had always been about more than just scripture—they were about life, about how the world tested you, how sin was a slippery slope. How it could seduce you without you even realizing it.

You thought you could ignore it for a while, push the thoughts aside as you embraced everything new. But when the holidays came and you found yourself back home, the old routines settled over you like a heavy coat. The Sunday services, the church events, the constant watchful eyes of the congregation. You could feel them all waiting, wondering if the preacher’s daughter had come back changed, if the world had gotten to you.

And then, there was Father Charlie.

You hadn’t expected to see him again—not like this, not after everything had shifted inside of you. College had given you new perspectives, yes, but it hadn’t prepared you for the way your pulse raced the moment you saw him standing in the front of the church, speaking with your father as if everything was still the same.

But it wasn’t.

Charlie looked different. Or maybe you did. He was older now, though not by much, and there was a certain weight in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before. It wasn’t just his sermons or the way he carried himself with that steady, unshakable calm; it was the way his gaze lingered on you, the way it seemed like he could see through the mask you were trying so hard to keep up.

You’d always known him as the priest who helped your father, the man who had been an almost constant presence in your home, at dinners, at family gatherings. He was someone you trusted, someone you never questioned. Until now.

There was something about him now, something that made the air feel too thick when you were in the same room. Maybe it was because you had changed, maybe it was because you had seen more of the world and realized how small the one you left behind had been. Or maybe it was because for the first time, you were looking at him not through the lens of innocence and trust, but through something darker. Something you weren’t ready to name.

It started innocently enough—helping your father prepare for services, catching up with old friends from the congregation, falling back into the role of the dutiful daughter. You had perfected that role long ago, and slipping back into it felt almost too easy, like muscle memory. But every time you caught a glimpse of Charlie, that mask cracked just a little more.

You told yourself it was nothing, that it was just the stress of being home again, of reconciling who you were now with who you had been before. But it wasn’t long before you found yourself lingering after church events, staying late to help clean up, just to see if he’d still be there. Just to see if his eyes would meet yours again, if that strange, unspoken tension between you would return.

And it always did.

It was subtle at first, the way he looked at you from across the room, the way his gaze lingered just a little too long before he turned away. You tried to convince yourself you were imagining it, that it was just your mind playing tricks on you. But then there were the conversations, those moments when the two of you were alone in the church hall, the only sound the distant hum of people outside. The way his voice softened when he spoke to you, the way he leaned in just a fraction too close, the way his hand brushed yours when you passed him something.

It was nothing. Or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

But one evening, after a particularly long meeting at the church, when everyone else had left and you were gathering your things, you turned around to find him standing in the doorway, watching you.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. The look in his eyes was different this time—darker, more intense. There was something there that you hadn’t seen before, or maybe something you had been too afraid to acknowledge.

“I didn’t expect you to come back,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. His gaze didn’t leave yours, not even for a second.

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as you tried to gather your thoughts. “It’s home,” you replied, though even you could hear the uncertainty in your own voice.

He stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. The sound of it clicking shut seemed to echo in the silence, making the space between you feel even smaller. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you, his eyes searching yours like he was trying to find something, some answer to a question he hadn’t asked yet.

You should have felt uncomfortable. You should have made some excuse to leave, to get out of there before whatever this was could unfold. But instead, you stayed rooted to the spot, your breath shallow, your heart racing in your chest.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he admitted, his voice lower now, almost a whisper.

Your heart skipped another beat, a wave of heat washing over you at his words. You didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know what to say to the man standing in front of you—the man who had always been so steady, so composed, and now looked like he was standing on the edge of something dangerous.

“Charlie, I—”

“I know,” he interrupted, taking another step closer, his eyes still locked on yours. “I know this is... complicated.”

Complicated didn’t even begin to cover it. He was a priest. You were the preacher’s daughter. There were rules, lines that couldn’t be crossed, things that couldn’t be said.

But here you were, standing in the quiet of the church, and those lines had never felt more blurred.

It was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. You knew it deep down, felt it in the pit of your stomach. He was a man of God, your father’s closest confidant, the last person you should have these thoughts about. And yet, here he was—standing before you, watching you with an intensity that made your breath hitch, like you were the only person in the world at that moment.

He was too close now. You could smell the faint scent of incense still clinging to his clothes, could see the slight furrow in his brow as he struggled to keep his composure. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The only sound was the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead and the muted shuffle of footsteps outside the room.

You should leave. You needed to. But instead, you found yourself taking a slow, steady breath, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

“I don’t know what’s happening here,” you finally whispered, your voice barely audible.

Charlie exhaled softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Neither do I,” he admitted, his voice low, almost broken. “But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The confession hung in the air between you, heavy and dangerous. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be a man above these temptations, above human desires. And you were supposed to be someone who understood that, who respected the boundaries that came with it. But somehow, those boundaries had started to blur long before either of you realized.

His hand twitched at his side, like he was fighting the urge to reach out and touch you, to close the distance between you. For a moment, you thought he might actually do it. That he might cross that final line. But he hesitated, clenching his fist as if to hold himself back.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he muttered under his breath, taking a small step backward, as if the space would help clear the growing storm between you.

You bit your lip, trying to find the right words, the right way to make sense of the tangled mess of emotions inside you. “Charlie...”

“Don’t,” he cut you off softly, shaking his head. “You don’t understand how wrong this is.”

His words hit you like a cold splash of water, but they didn’t stop the way your heart fluttered in your chest, or the way your stomach twisted with something dangerous. You knew he was right. This was wrong, on every level. And yet, the way he looked at you, the way his voice dropped when he said your name—it sent a shiver down your spine that you couldn’t ignore.

“Then why do you keep looking at me like that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He just stared at you, his expression a mixture of frustration and something darker—something you didn’t dare name out loud.

“Because,” he finally murmured, his voice thick with restrained emotion, “I can’t help it.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of those words settle over you. It wasn’t the confession you had expected, and it wasn’t one that made things any easier. If anything, it only made the situation even more complicated.

“I should go,” you whispered, your voice shaky as you tried to take a step back, to create some distance between you and the storm brewing in the space you shared.

That was all you said before turning around, and leaving the room.

───

You weren't sure how this had happened, but sure as hell did. Charlie's lips were on yours, pushing you into the door with force. You hummed into his lips, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

All you remember was his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. The world outside that door no longer existed, fading into a blur as Charlie’s lips moved against yours with a fervor that felt like it had been building for far too long.

All you remembered was the sound of your own heartbeat, pounding so loudly in your ears that it drowned out everything else—the quiet of the church hall, the soft creak of the door behind you, the whisper of your name on Charlie’s lips before everything had spiraled out of control.

You had always imagined this would be different, more hesitant, slower, maybe even sweet. But this? This was something else entirely. It was rushed, desperate, like both of you had been holding back for so long that the dam had finally broken, flooding every bit of restraint.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him to close the gap between you entirely. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place as if he was afraid you’d slip away if he didn’t. His lips were warm, insistent, and you couldn’t help but melt into him, surrendering to the pull you had resisted for so long.

The weight of what you were doing hit you in flashes—between the soft gasp that escaped your throat and the way Charlie’s breath hitched when you responded with equal need. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be doing this. But nothing had ever felt so... inevitable.

The taste of his kiss lingered on your lips, sending sparks through your body that only grew more intense the longer it went on. You could feel the tension radiating off of him, the battle he was fighting between what he knew was wrong and what he wanted more than anything at that moment.

It was a battle you were losing, too.

You broke away for a second, gasping for air as his forehead pressed against yours, both of you breathing heavily. His eyes—dark, conflicted, and filled with something so raw—locked onto yours. For a moment, the weight of what you’d just done hung between you.

But then, before either of you could think too much, his lips were back on yours, silencing any doubts. This time, softer.

This time, his kiss was slower, more deliberate, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. The urgency had dimmed just enough to let the moment stretch out, to let the reality of what was happening sink in. His hands traced a path from your hips to your waist, pulling you even closer, while his lips moved tenderly against yours, tasting you in a way that made your knees weak.

Your mind was a blur of sensations—the warmth of his breath, the soft friction of his body pressing into yours, the quiet hum of the world outside this stolen moment. Every touch, every kiss, felt like it was lighting a fire inside you that you couldn't put out, even if you tried.

But then, as his lips left yours to trail softly down your jawline, the weight of it all crashed down on you. What had you done? What were you doing?

“Charlie,” you whispered, your voice trembling as reality clawed its way back in. His name fell from your lips like a plea, though you weren’t sure if you were asking him to stop or to keep going.

He froze, his breath hot against your neck. For a long moment, he didn’t move, his hands still gripping your waist as if he couldn’t bear to let go. Then, with a shuddering breath, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression filled with a storm of emotions—regret, desire, conflict, everything.

“I... I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. His eyes searched yours, as though he was looking for some kind of answer, some justification for the lines he had just crossed. “I shouldn’t have...”

You shook your head, still catching your breath, your hands sliding down from his shoulders. “No,” you whispered, feeling the heat in your cheeks. “Don’t apologize. I wanted this, too.”

Charlie swallowed hard, his gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes, torn between the undeniable truth of your words and the overwhelming guilt gnawing at him. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he took a step back, running a hand through his hair as if to ground himself, to keep himself from falling further.

“We can’t do this,” he muttered, almost to himself, though the words were meant for both of you. “This... it’s wrong. It goes against everything.”

“Charlie,” you scoffed as you straightened up. “So what? So what if this is wrong, who said we can't have fun every once in a while?”

Charlie’s eyes darkened at your words, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his features. You watched as he clenched his jaw, wrestling with the temptation that you had just fanned back into life with that careless, reckless comment.

“Fun?” he repeated, his voice low and strained, almost like he couldn’t believe you had said it. “You think this is just fun?”

You tilted your head, shrugging, though you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. “Why not? Why does it have to be this heavy, guilt-ridden thing? It’s only wrong if we make it wrong.” Your voice was bold, but there was a trembling edge beneath it, one you hoped he wouldn’t notice.

Charlie’s hand ran through his hair in frustration as he stared at you, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, taking a step closer, and for a moment, you saw the fire in his eyes again—the same fire that had pulled you both into this moment in the first place. “This isn’t just some game. You have no idea what you’re risking.”

You stepped forward, closing the distance again, the tension between you crackling like electricity. “I know exactly what I’m risking, Charlie. And I don’t care. Don’t you get that by now? I want this.”

For a split second, you saw the conflict in his eyes again, the internal war he was waging, but then his hand reached out, gripping your arm, pulling you closer. His breath was ragged as his forehead pressed against yours, his fingers tightening around you like he was holding on for dear life.

“You’re driving me insane,” he murmured, his voice thick with desperation. “This isn’t something we can just... play with. It’s wrong, and I—”

“Do you want me to stop?” you cut him off, your voice soft but firm, your lips inches from his.

Charlie’s breath hitched as his grip on you tightened even more. His eyes searched yours, the weight of the decision heavy between you both. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with anticipation, with the unspoken truth neither of you could deny anymore.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he admitted, his voice a hoarse whisper, filled with all the tension and desire he had been trying so hard to suppress. “But I should. We should.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, and without thinking, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Then don’t.”

That was all it took.

In an instant, his resolve crumbled, and Charlie’s lips crashed into yours with a force that sent a shiver down your spine. All the restraint, all the guilt, evaporated in that single moment as his hands gripped you tighter, pulling you against him like he couldn’t get enough.

That was how this little affair had began. What started as a reckless act of rebellion, something thrilling and dangerous, had spiraled into something much bigger, something neither of you could have anticipated.

For Charlie, everything began to shift. At first, it was just the stolen kisses and the hurried, whispered moments behind locked doors. But then, gradually, you noticed the change in him—subtle at first, but undeniable as time went on. He wasn’t the same devout, principled man he’d been before. The conviction that once held him together was starting to unravel, and it wasn’t just about you anymore.

His sermons, once delivered with unshakable passion, began to falter. He spoke the words, but there was a hollowness to them now, a lack of fire that hadn’t been there before. The weight of his role as a priest no longer seemed to sit so heavily on his shoulders. It was as though he was slipping further away from the man he had been, day by day, like he had loosened his grip on the faith that had once defined him.

It wasn’t just in the church either. You saw it in his eyes, the way they lit up when he saw you, no longer clouded with guilt or hesitation. The same man who had once knelt in prayer for hours, seeking forgiveness for even the smallest of sins, now seemed to be the furthest thing from repentant. There was a spark in him that had nothing to do with religion—a hunger for something more, something that you had awakened in him.

You had become his escape, his release from the rigid life he had once lived. And it was clear that, for the first time in a long while, he was having fun. Real fun. The kind that made his eyes light up with a mischievous glint, the kind that left him grinning after each secret encounter. He was no longer the solemn, restrained Father Charlie that everyone in the church knew. Around you, he laughed more, joked more, and seemed more alive than he ever had before.

There was a recklessness to him now, a side of Charlie that had been hidden beneath layers of duty and piety. When you were together, it was as though none of the rules applied. His hands roamed freely, his lips found yours without hesitation, and the weight of his priesthood—the guilt that had once threatened to crush him—seemed to melt away with each touch, each kiss, each stolen moment.

He wasn’t praying for forgiveness anymore. He wasn’t praying for anything at all.

And maybe that was the most dangerous part of all. Charlie was slipping further and further away from the man he had been, from the role he had devoted his life to. But even as you saw him change, a part of you knew—you liked this version of him better. The one who wasn’t weighed down by morality, the one who let himself live, who let himself enjoy this, enjoy you.

Because, in truth, he had never seemed happier.

Then, your family's Christmas Eve dinner came and of course, Charlie would be invited. Your mother and father were practically buzzing with excitement—this was their biggest event of the year.

It would be in your home, just as it always was, with the dining room decked out in festive decorations. The smell of cinnamon, cloves, and roasting meat filled the air, and the flicker of candlelight danced along the walls. Your mother had spent days planning every detail, from the table settings to the perfect holiday playlist softly playing in the background. This was the night your family pulled out all the stops, and the guest of honor, of course, was none other than Father Charlie.

As you descended the stairs, dressed in a modest yet elegant outfit your mother had insisted upon, your stomach churned. The thought of Charlie sitting across from you, pretending nothing was happening between the two of you, made your skin prickle with a strange mix of anticipation and dread. You could already picture him, composed and serene, his priestly demeanor fully intact. But you knew better. Beneath the calm exterior, beneath the collar, there was a man who had unraveled, one you had helped tear apart.

The dining room was a scene of festive cheer by the time you arrived, your parents bustling about, greeting guests and making sure everything was perfect. You could hear your father laughing loudly from the other room, his booming voice full of pride as he told someone about how Father Charlie had become such an important part of the church community. How proud they were to have him there.

And then you saw him.

Charlie stood near the fireplace, talking to a few of the older parishioners who had arrived early, his usual composed expression firmly in place. He looked every bit the part—his black priest’s garb impeccable, his hands clasped in front of him in that familiar posture of calm authority. But when his eyes flicked over to you, for the briefest of moments, something shifted. His gaze lingered, and you saw the hint of heat behind them, a flash of memory that you were certain only the two of you understood. His lips quirked up in a small smile, seemingly innocent and kind. But you knew better.

Your heart skipped a beat as your mother’s voice pulled you back into the moment. “Sweetheart, come say hello to Father Charlie!” she called, her voice brimming with affection.

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile onto your face as you made your way toward him. Your mother was already gushing about how wonderful it was to have him here, how much your family appreciated him spending Christmas Eve with them. You barely heard her, your mind racing as Charlie’s eyes met yours, steady but unreadable.

“Good evening,” he said softly, his voice smooth as ever, though there was an edge to it that only you could catch. The soft smile that graced his features had turned into a small smirk as he took in your shy expression.

He extended his hand, and for a split second, as your fingers brushed his, a jolt of electricity surged through you. It was barely noticeable—a moment so fleeting your mother wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But for you, it was enough to send your mind spiraling back to all the times his hands had been on you in a much different way.

“Good evening, Father,” you replied, your voice steady, though your pulse was racing beneath the surface.

“Such a lovely home, as always,” Charlie said, turning his attention to your mother with a charming smile, ever the perfect guest. But as he spoke, you caught the way his fingers flexed slightly, like he was trying to hold back something deeper.

As the evening unfolded, you found yourself painfully aware of Charlie's presence, of the way he seemed just a little too comfortable, a little too close. He wasn’t careless enough to raise suspicion, not with your family and half the parish sitting around the table, but there were moments—subtle, fleeting moments—that made your heart race.

It started with the way he looked at you. His eyes would linger a beat too long whenever you caught each other’s gaze across the table. He spoke politely to your parents, laughed at the right moments, even indulged your father’s long-winded stories about the church’s history. But every time he glanced your way, there was something beneath the surface. A smoldering awareness.

Then, there were his hands. When he passed you the breadbasket, his fingers brushed against yours. Not an accident, not something your parents would ever notice, but it was enough. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and the heat in his gaze told you he knew exactly what he was doing. His thumb grazed your wrist in a way that made your breath hitch, and when you glanced up, he was already looking away, like it never happened. But you knew.

Charlie was being reckless, though not in an obvious way. His behavior was just subtle enough to keep from drawing attention, but to you, it was impossible to miss. His foot nudged yours beneath the table during dinner, a simple tap, but the look he gave you when your knees touched—it was almost too much. You could barely keep yourself composed, your mind spinning with the memory of him pushing you up against the door, his lips on yours.

"Father, would you like more wine?" your mother asked, completely oblivious to the tension simmering between you two.

Charlie smiled, nodding graciously as he held out his glass. "Just a little more, thank you."

As your mother poured, his eyes found yours again. This time, he didn’t look away, not immediately. The corner of his mouth quirked up, just enough to send your thoughts into overdrive. It was like a private joke, one that only the two of you understood. A secret dance of hidden touches, stolen glances, and unspoken words.

You tried to focus on your plate, on the conversation happening around you, but it was impossible. Every move he made felt like it was meant for you, no matter how small. When he reached for his napkin, his hand grazed your thigh under the table, just for a second, but it was enough to make your breath catch in your throat. You glanced at him in shock, and he gave you a sideways smile, the kind that spoke volumes without a single word.

He was playing with fire, and so were you.

Dinner stretched on, with your father telling more stories and your mother doting on everyone, but all you could think about was Charlie. The way he leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping the room, but always coming back to you. It was reckless, the way he was letting his guard down, letting you see the cracks in his calm facade.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” your father asked, drawing you out of your thoughts. His concerned gaze made your stomach tighten.

You forced a smile, nodding quickly. “Yes, just tired, I think. It’s been a long day.”

Your father patted your shoulder, satisfied with your answer, but when you glanced at Charlie, you saw the flicker of something dangerous in his eyes—something that told you he wasn’t tired at all. He was far from it.

As dessert was served, the tension between you two only grew. He was no longer pretending to keep his distance, not really. His foot stayed lightly pressed against yours under the table, and when your fingers brushed again as you passed him a dish, he let them linger, his thumb trailing over your knuckles for just a second too long.

The worst part? No one else noticed a thing.

Charlie was playing this game with expert precision—just enough to make your pulse quicken, but not enough to get caught.

As dessert came to an end, Charlie's eyes flickered towards you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He had barely spoken directly to you the entire night, but now, it was like he couldn’t wait any longer. You were both playing this game, pushing the boundaries of how far you could go without crossing an invisible line—at least in front of everyone else.

"Could you show me where the coffee cups are?" Charlie asked, leaning back casually in his chair. His voice was calm, maybe even a little too casual, but you caught the subtle undercurrent of something more.

Your mother’s head turned slightly, her brow furrowing in mild confusion. "Father, you’ve been here enough times to know where they are, haven’t you?"

You held your breath, your pulse quickening at the way your mother’s question hung in the air. Charlie smiled smoothly, shaking his head.

"Ah, but every time I’m here, something’s moved around. You know how it is in a busy house," he said, chuckling lightly, the picture of a gracious guest. But his eyes were on you again, and you knew this wasn’t about coffee cups. Not even close.

"Of course," your mother laughed, brushing it off with a wave. "Go ahead, sweetheart, show Father Charlie where everything is."

Your heart was pounding as you rose from your seat, barely able to look at your parents. The room felt too small, too hot, like every eye was on you as you and Charlie stood up from the table. But when you glanced back, your father was already engrossed in another conversation, and your mother was busy with the dishes.

Charlie followed you into the hallway, his footsteps too close behind you. Your breath hitched as you led him toward the kitchen, trying to act natural, but the tension between you two was suffocating. You could feel his presence like a shadow, his gaze boring into the back of your neck as you rounded the corner.

The second you stepped out of view, his hand caught your wrist, pulling you to a stop. You spun to face him, heart racing, and before you could say a word, his body was pressing you back against the kitchen counter.

"Charlie—" you whispered, but he silenced you with a look, his breath coming fast and shallow.

"I couldn’t stand it any longer," he muttered, his voice low and thick with something dark. His hands came to rest on either side of you, trapping you against the counter, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. "I need you, baby..."

Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed the side of your face, and you felt your resolve start to crumble. You knew this was wrong—knew it with every fiber of your being—but Charlie’s lips were dangerously close to yours, his breath warm on your skin.

"You’ve been driving me insane," he whispered, his voice ragged, filled with a hunger he hadn’t bothered to hide anymore.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment crushing down on you. There was still time to stop this, to step away, but you knew neither of you would. You had pushed each other too far, and now, there was no turning back.

"I know," you breathed, barely able to get the words out. "I’ve been waiting for you to crack."

A low groan escaped him, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours, hot and demanding. His hands slid down to grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the heat between you was overwhelming. It was reckless, dangerous, but it was also everything you had been waiting for.

The tension that had simmered all night finally broke, and you melted into him, your hands tangling in his hair as you kissed him back with the same desperation. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer, and you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth.

Charlie pulled away just enough to press his forehead against yours, his breath ragged as he looked into your eyes. "Your parents are in the other room," he murmured with a small smirk, though the way he held you betrayed any thought of stopping.

You smiled up at him, your heart racing. "Then why can’t you stop?"

His jaw clenched, and without another word, he pulled you into another kiss, deeper this time, his hands exploring your body with a reckless abandon that sent a shiver down your spine. The world outside the kitchen, the family dinner, the church—it all melted away as you gave in to the dangerous pull between you.

Charlie pulled away for a second, his hand reaching up to grip your face harshly. "Dirty girl, aren't you?"

You couldn't help but laugh, your eyes never leaving his. "You started this, Charlie."

Charlie's grip tightened, and you felt the heat of his gaze searing into you, both intoxicating and possessive. He kissed you again, his mouth fierce, almost punishing, as if he couldn’t stand the space between you. Your back hit the counter, but the discomfort barely registered—he pressed his body into yours, and you gasped against his lips, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation flooding your senses.

His hands roamed, fingers tracing the curve of your waist before sliding beneath your shirt, the roughness of his palms igniting your skin. You felt him pause, as if savoring the feeling of you under his hands, and when he finally pulled back, it was only to whisper against your ear, his voice low and thick with desire. "You like this, don't you? Knowing we could get caught..."

You could barely think, your body burning with need. You bit your lip, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. "Isn’t that what you want?" you whispered back, your own hands sliding under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin.

Charlie groaned, his grip on you tightening. His fingers found the hem of your jeans, teasing, as he trailed hot kisses down the side of your neck. "Always so defiant," he muttered, his breath warm against your skin. "But I’ll break you yet."

The intensity of his words sent a thrill through you, and you tilted your head back, giving him access to more of your neck as he kissed you, nipping at your skin, leaving a trail of marks behind. His hands, strong and demanding, finally dipped lower, and you gasped as his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of your lower abdomen.

"Charlie," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as your hands clutched at his shoulders, needing him closer, needing more.

Charlie’s breath was hot against your neck as his hands traveled lower, teasing the edge of your jeans. His fingers dipped just beneath the fabric, tracing your skin with maddening slowness. "Say my name again," he demanded, his voice husky and filled with dark need.

Your lips parted, a soft gasp escaping as his fingers toyed with you, just enough to make you squirm but not enough to satisfy the aching desire that built inside you. "Charlie," you breathed, your voice trembling, desperate.

His hand tightened around your waist, pulling you harder against him. "Louder," he growled, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He was taunting you, daring you to give in completely, and you could feel the power shift between you. You were no longer in control—he was, and the knowledge only heightened the tension.

You clenched your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, trying to keep your composure, but he wasn’t making it easy. His other hand slid to your throat, not choking but holding you in place, his grip firm as he pressed his lips against yours again, more demanding than before.

"You think you can push me, don’t you?" he muttered against your lips. "Make me lose control." His fingers slipped lower, brushing the spot that made your knees weak, and you gasped, unable to stop the flood of heat that rushed through you. He smiled, wicked and knowing, as if he could sense your surrender.

Your head fell back against the cabinet, your breathing ragged, your body burning under his touch. He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze again, his eyes dark with lust and dominance. "But you're mine," he murmured, his voice a promise and a warning all at once. "And you’ll break before I do."

Your heart pounded in your chest as Charlie's words sank in, his hand at your throat tightening ever so slightly, just enough to remind you of his control. The intensity of his stare sent a shiver of anticipation through you, and you found yourself caught between the desire to challenge him and the undeniable pull of surrender.

"Are you sure about that?" you whispered, your voice soft but laced with defiance, the words barely slipping past your lips as you fought to maintain some control.

A dangerous smile tugged at the corner of Charlie’s mouth, his gaze flickering with something dark and unrelenting. "Oh, I’m sure," he said, his tone low and dripping with confidence. His fingers danced over the waistband of your skirt before slipping inside, his touch both teasing and commanding, and the heat pooling in your lower abdomen intensified, your breath hitching in response.

His fingers played with your panties, that were already soaked before slipping in a finger. You let out a soft hum, your head falling back on to the counter as your eyes squeezed shut. You tried to steady yourself, your grip tightening on his shoulders as you fought to stay grounded, but Charlie’s presence overwhelmed you.

His lips found the hollow of your throat, and he kissed his way down, each press of his mouth against your skin sending shockwaves through your body. When his finger moved deeper, the other brushing against your clit, your body betrayed you with a soft, needy whimper.

"That’s it," he murmured against your neck, his voice a low growl, filled with satisfaction at the sound. "Let me hear you."

The tension inside you built, every stroke of his finger pushing you closer to the edge, and you were losing the battle of resistance. Charlie’s hand tightened around your throat, not enough to hurt but enough to keep you locked in place, at his mercy. His breath was hot against your ear, his fingers moving in a rhythm that had you trembling.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, his voice rough with desire.

Your mind was clouded, your body aching for release, but you bit your lip, fighting the words he wanted from you. The defiance only seemed to amuse him further, his grip tightening slightly. "Still holding out?" he asked, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. "You think you can win this game?"

Your heart raced, your body betraying you as you squirmed under his touch, and you knew you were close to breaking. His fingers moved with more purpose now, pushing you closer to the brink, and a gasp escaped you as your resolve began to crumble.

"I—" You could barely form the words, your body arching into him, desperate for more.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice a rough whisper. His fingers curled, hitting just the right spot, and the pleasure coursing through you was too much to bear.

"Charlie—please," you finally gasped, your voice breaking as you surrendered to him completely. "Make me cum."

A satisfied grin spread across his face, and he pressed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, his hand finally giving you what you needed as his finger moved deeper and quicker. "Good girl," he whispered against your mouth, his voice dripping with possessive pride. "Cum for me."

That was all you needed to let out a shuddering moan, your knees falling weak as the knot in your lower stomach snapped. Charlie's hand covered your mouth quickly, the sound muffled by his large hand. After you rode out your high, Charlie's hand slipped out of your skirt as you caught your breath.

As if on cue, your mother came in with some dishes in her hand. There wasn't even a trace of suspicion in her expression, she was too busy with the dinner to even question why you two were taking so long and why you two were standing so close.

"Did you guys find the cups?" She asked with a sigh, loading the dishwasher with the dishes.

Charlie casually wiped his hand on his pants, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he hadn’t just had you unraveling under his touch moments before. His lips curved into a smirk, eyes glinting with amusement as he shot you a sideways glance. The contrast between your rapid breathing and his calm demeanor was infuriating. He knew exactly what he’d done to you—and he was reveling in it.

"Yeah," he said smoothly, his voice steady as ever. "We were just…looking for them."

You tried to compose yourself, struggling to regulate your breaths without drawing attention. Your legs still felt shaky, and the warmth of his body so close to yours lingered like a sinful reminder of what had just happened. You forced a smile, hoping your mother wouldn’t notice the flushed look on your face.

Your mother barely glanced at you two as she continued with the dishes, completely oblivious to the tension hanging thick in the air. "Great, we're just about to leave for service," she said with a tired sigh. "I’ll need your help with cleaning the table soon."

"Of course," Charlie responded, his voice filled with an edge of playful charm, though only you could hear the smug satisfaction underneath it all. He took a step closer to you, almost brushing his arm against yours as he reached up to grab the cups from the shelf. The proximity sent another wave of heat through you, and it took everything in you not to react visibly.

Your mother turned her back again, preoccupied with the dishwasher, and Charlie seized the opportunity. He leaned in ever so slightly, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "You’re going to have to work on that poker face, baby."

You shot him a sharp look, your body still buzzing from the intensity of earlier, and now his teasing only made it worse. The urge to wipe that smug look off his face was almost overwhelming, but you had no choice but to keep it together, your mother only a few feet away.

As he moved past you, you caught the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. He knew how much power he held over you in that moment, and he wasn’t going to let you forget it anytime soon.

Your mother finally turned back to face you. "You okay, honey?" she asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she noticed you standing still by the counter. "You look a bit flushed."

You swallowed hard, fighting to find your voice. "Yeah, I'm fine, just a little warm in here," you lied, managing to give her a weak smile. "I'll help with the table."

Charlie glanced back at you, his smirk still firmly in place as he picked up the cups. His voice was smooth and casual, betraying nothing of the wickedness lurking beneath the surface. "I’ll take care of the rest," he said, shooting you a look that made your pulse quicken. "You just… relax."

Your mother nodded, oblivious. "Thanks, Charlie."

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