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hxzbinwrites · 9 months ago

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Hi! I just saw that requests are open, yeah!! I'd like to request an Alastor x fem!Reader where Vox has a crush on her so he sends her a set of different tea flavor as a gift. The problem is that these contain a drug that inhibits the person (thanks, Valentino). Basically, his plan was to wait for her to drink the tea and then show up at the hotel and seduce her so he could have her for himself (my boy thinks she loves him, lol). The problem is that she had graciously offered the tea to Alastor, who drinks it. Vox asks her if she enjoyed the tea she lies saying it was delicious so he immediately shows up at the hotel but ends up finding Alastor who is being super affectionate with her, revealing his true feelings for her. Eventually Alastor attacks Vox as soon as he sees him forcing the other to flee. Fluff and comedy, basically. xD

Alastor x Fem! Reader x Vox | Tea Time Troubles

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, drugs, controlling and manipulative Vox, out of character Alastor.

"I dunno 'bout this Voxxy" Valentino said, handing him a baggie of the drug, a weak aphrodisiac lining the walls of the bag.

"Don't worry about me Valentino, I'll be fine" Vox reassured him, holding the bag up to his screened face. He smirked deviously as he put his hands behind his back.

"But you tell me all the time 'bout 'public image' and all that shit." Valentino retorted, crossing his lower arms against his stomach.

"Don't you worry your pretty little face about it Honey" Vox sneered, rubbing his cheek in a falsely affectionate way. "Vox is a big boy and can handle himself. I just gotta put this into some tea bags. (Y/n) WILL be MINE."

"Ugh" The moth groaned, taking a puff of his cigar,"She's not even worth it. She hangs out with radio, fossil trash. If she was good shed know who to choose. Besides, I'm better than she is, right?"

"You're wrong." Vox said, his left eye radiating hypnotizing waves out of anger,"(Y/n) is perfect. She's everything, and she will be mine."

Vox's demonic laughter could be heard across the building, sending chills down anyone who heard it's spine.

--------

"Honey!!" (Y/n) exclaimed, holding up the box of tea that arrived at their house,"Your tea shipment came!"

Alastor, who was reading the paper at the kitchen table, looked over to see his dear (Y/n) carrying two large cardboard boxes.

He teleported over, making his shadows place them atop of the counter. His keen eyes narrowed at the second box, seemingly almost identical to the first one.

"How peculiar!" Alastor said, tapping his cane on the second box, almost poking it as if it was a foreign object.

"What's peculiar about it?" The fellow deer demon asked, peering over at the box her partner was so intrigued by.

"I did not order two shipments of tea from the catalogue this month!" He replied, his smile tightening in irritation. Could someone be trying to plant something in this hotel? Trying to hurt any of his friends, his beloved, or him?

"Maybe it's a promo box?" (Y/n) suggested,"I mean, you are a loyal customer of theirs. Maybe they want you to try a new product, I hear that's the new rage."

"Ah" Alastor replied, walking closer to the counter to rip open the second box to be met with a letter and a large box of tea.

"Thank you for your loyalty Mr. Alastor. We're reaching out to our most loyal customers to give this Promo box to! We're asking that you try our newest flavor, a (your favorite flavor) but with a twist! Despite the erratic sounds at night in Hell, this tea should help you fall right asleep! If you enjoy it, please promote so on your beloved Radio Show!"

"I was right!" The doe said, looking up at her partner,"They must've given it to you because they know you're famous and can promote their tea! Very smart people, I wanna try one tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow? Why not today my doe?" Alastor said, looking down at his partner.

"My stomach isn't feeling the best. Charlie's cake wasn't fully cooked through, but I didn't want to be rude and not eat it. Especially because no one else was!"

Alastor chuckled, petting her sensitive ears. "Now now (Y/n), you should've listened to me! I know all!"

"Al..." She said, batting her eyes up at him,"Do you mind trying it for me? I wanna know if it's good, but I don't want to throw up in my sleep!"

"Why should I?" He inquired, smirking down at (Y/n). "It seems like this predicament could've been easily avoided my little doe! Hahaha!"

"Please" She softly asked, smiling at him back.

"I suppose I can try one cup of it." He said, sitting down at the table, fully expecting (Y/n) to make him the cup as he finished reading his paper.

She giggled at him and began to start the kettle. Moments like these can't be replaced, a docile and homey moment between the two of them. (Y/n) loved seeing this side of him. The Alastor side of him, not the Radio Demon.

(Y/n) opened the smaller box that was enclosed in the large one, picking out the first tea bag. She smelled the bag, the fumes of blended herbs wafting in her nostrils. It smelled lovely, she would've to drink one alongside Alastor.

But she held back on picking up another bag, knowing its sleeping effects. (Y/n) really didn't want to throw up while in her sleep, and potentially on Alastor, who would be as knocked out as her.

Sighing, she finished preparing the tea, pouring it in Alastor's favorite teacups, the one (Y/n) gifted him on their second anniversary many years ago.

She walked back over to him, placing the teacup on his saucer, putting the sugar cube in as well.

"Thank you dearest" Alastor said, his eyes skimming over the newspaper,"I shall be in our room in a moment, why don't you go ahead and get in your nightwear?"

"Alrighty" (Y/n) replied, patting the back of Alastor's chair. That was something the two of them did, (Y/n) knew when to touch Alastor and when to not. Still wanting to show him affection, she'll pat an object close to him.

Alastor gave her a soft smile before returning his focus to the newspaper.

The doe walked up the stairs in the hotel to their shared room. She got in her fluffy pajamas, completed each and every step to her skincare routine, and crawled into bed with a book.

The silence was only broken by the occasional turn of a page, this was (Y/n)‘s daily quiet time, as Alastor liked to read the paper before turning in for the night.

This normally is for about an hour, but tonight it was a mere 30 minutes as the door busted open.

The doe yelped, her skittish nature causing her to flinch at the sudden jolt of noise. Her partner flittered into the room before crawling on top of her, his eyes droopy from the affect.

“Hi sugar” He said, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His ears were pressed against his head as he affectionately nuzzled (Y/n). Alastor grabbed her waist and flipped her on top of him, allowing him to bring her closer to his body, her chest atop of his.

“Al-Alastor?!” (Y/n) exclaimed, tensing up. What has gotten into him!? He’s not one to ever make such…bold advances.

“Oh my love” He said, a dreamy lilt in his voice,”you’re just perfection incarnate. Such a lovely little fawn you are.”

Blushing heavily, she let him rest himself on her, snuggling contently. It was rather peaceful, she did not know where this sudden chance of behavior came from, but it certainly wasn’t the worst by far.

(Y/n)’s ears perked up hearing a notification sound ding from her phone. She slowly grabbed it to check what it was.

Alastor was not very keen on allowing this sort of technology in the house, especially knowing Vox is over all of it. So they made a compromise, he’d take out the camera and microphone and she could have the phone.

Seeing it was a message from Vox, she opened it.

Vox: “Hey sweetheart, I pulled a few strings and got a shipment of some new tea of (your favorite flavor) that was being tested. How did you like it baby?”

(Y/n): Oh, it was good, thanks!

Vox: Just good? You sure sweet stuff? Wasn’t it so good you could just kiss the lips off of the person who got it for you?

(Y/n) sighed, shutting her phone off and curling up with her lover.

“I think that’s a yes!” Vox said, throwing his hands in the air ceremoniously. He quickly put on his best bow tie, in hopes it would get taken off by fingers other than his, and made his way towards the Hazbin Hotel.

————

Vox searched through each room until he found the one you and Alastor shared.

He scowled at the door, seeing a heart with the initials scribed on it “(Y/i) + A”

Pathetic. He could give you so much more than that. He could give you the most advanced technological sign known to mankind just for some silly initials, not some shitty hard with nearly illegible handwriting.

He opened the door, his signature smirk dropping as he saw Alastor, his arch nemesis (in Vox’s eyes) peppering small little kisses all over (Y/n)‘s face, making her giggle.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Vox yelled, his face was blue-screening.

Alastor took one look at the fellow Overlord and let out a long string of laughter, sitting up as he pulled (Y/n) into his lap.

“Vox?! What are you doing here?!”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE TO DRINK THE TEA!! AND THEN YOU’D BE MINE!!”

Alastor hooked a arm around (Y/n)‘s waist, looking at his opponent across the room.

“This is my doe, my love, and we all know if she would’ve drank the tea, she would’ve always chosen me.”

Lets just say, the power around the Pride Ring went out after that comment.

————

Word Count 1,524

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strcwbrryklss · 1 month ago

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୨୧﹕ forgive me .ᐟ oneshot

pairing ; father charlie mayhew x fem!reader contains ; tension , smut ( oral m receiving ) a/n ; i rewatched fleabag season two and HAD to write this for my own sake ( also havent proofread this,, so just ignore any mistakes pls. summary ; it has been 160 days since your last confession.

the soft hum of hymns filled the stone walls of the church, echoing through the vast, candlelit space. the congregation sat quietly, hands folded in prayer or resting on their laps, their eyes fixed on the alter.

the heavy scent of incense hung in the air, weaving between the polished wooden pews, where you sat toward the back, trying to focus on the words of the sermon. the light from the stained glass windows poured in, casting delicate hues of red, blue, and gold across the congregation, illuminating the man at the front of the church.

father charlie.

your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, your fingers nervously gripping the edge of the pew. you had tried to stop coming to mass, but something always drew you back here—drew you back to him. each week, you told yourself it would be different. you would listen to the sermon, find solace in his words, and leave without this gnawing ache in your chest.

but it never worked.

father charlie stood at the altar, the bible held firmly in his hands as he delivered his message, his voice deep and smooth, filling the grand space with a quiet authority. his tone was soft, but it held power, a magnetic pull that kept everyone’s attention on him. but while the others listened intently to the words of faith, of virtue and devotion, your mind was far from holy thoughts.

your eyes traced the lines of his jaw, the way the sunlight caught in his brown hair, making the strands shine beneath the dim lighting of the cathedral. his features were sharp but kind, his strong brows furrowed in concentration as he spoke about resisting the temptations of the flesh.

temptation.

the word reverberated through you, sending a jolt of heat to your core. temptation, the feeling you knew far too well. father charlie’s hands moved as he gestured lightly with his sermon, and you found yourself imagining those hands on you, instead of the bible. you swallowed hard, pulse quickening as your thoughts drifted to places you knew they shouldn’t go, especially here — especially with him.

he was the very definition of unattainable, a man sworn to a life of celibacy, of purity. and yet, you couldn’t stop the thoughts that rushed through your mind every time you looked at him. every sunday, you sat in the same pew, feeling that same magnetic pull toward him, a pull you couldn’t explain and couldn’t resist.

his robes hung loosely on his tall, lean frame, the fabric shifting with each subtle movement he made. beneath them, you knew there was something stronger, something more human than the holy image he portrayed. and the thought of that made your stomach twist with desire.

you could barely breathe, the church suddenly feeling too warm, too confined. you bit your lip, eyes darting to the floor as you tried to steady your racing thoughts. this was wrong. so wrong. but you couldn’t help it. every word that came from his lips only seemed to make it worse, sending your mind spiraling deeper into a fantasy you had tried so hard to bury.

you imagined it so clearly now — being alone with him after the congregation had gone. the church would be empty, the candles burning low, the flickering flames casting long shadows along the stone walls. you would step toward him, heart pounding, and when your hand brushed his, you’d feel the heat of his skin, the tension between you palpable. he would hesitate, of course. his vows, his faith — they would hold him back for a moment. but then, in the quiet of the empty church, his restraint would finally break.

your pulse raced as the image flashed vividly in your mind: his hands on you, pulling you close, his lips crashing into yours with all the pent-up passion he had kept locked away for so long. the forbidden thrill of it sent a shiver down your spine, your breath coming faster as you quickly glanced back up at him, half-expecting to see him watching you, knowing your every sinful thought.

but he wasn’t. father charlie’s gaze was still fixed on the congregation, his words steady as he spoke about virtue, about control.

you looked across the church, towards one of the many paintings of god, his expression seeming almost disappointed. you felt a flush of guilt, heat rising to your cheeks. how could you sit here, in a place meant for worship, and think these things? how could you look at him — father charlie — and imagine him like that? it was wrong. but that only seemed to make the ache in your chest grow stronger, the desire burning hotter with each passing moment.

the service was drawing to a close, and your heart pounded as you realised you would soon have to face him. father charlie always stood at the door after mass, offering a handshake and a few kind words to each person who passed. every week, that brief moment of contact set your skin on fire, leaving you wanting more.

and then you saw him — father charlie, standing by the entrance, his eyes warm and kind as he greeted the parishioners. you swallowed hard, heart racing as you approached. his gaze shifted to you, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to blur at the edges, leaving only the two of you.

"god bless you, y/n" father charlie said softly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine as his hand extended toward yours.

you hesitated for the briefest moment, your breath catching in your throat as your hand slipped into his. his grip was firm but gentle, the warmth of his skin sending a spark of electricity through you. you looked up into his eyes, searching for… something. some sign that he could feel the same pull, the same tension that had been building between you for months. but his expression was as serene as ever, his smile kind and distant.

"thank you, father," you murmured, your voice barely audible as you let go of his hand, your fingers tingling where they had touched him, before turning around to leave the sacred building. however, you stopped in your tracks.

turning towards him, you spoke timidly, "actually, father.."

as you approached, father charlie glanced up and saw you, his warm smile instantly making your heart skip a beat. his dark eyes met yours, and you felt that familiar pull, a flutter in your stomach that made your knees weak.

"yes?," he responded kindly, his voice a calm, steady presence that filled the space between you.

"father," you began, your voice shaking slightly as you stepped closer. "i was wondering if… there’s any chance i could confess later?"

there. you’d said it. the words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you were certain he could see right through you — into your mind, your thoughts, your desires. you tried to keep your expression neutral, but the tension coiled in your chest made it nearly impossible to hide how nervous you were.

father charlie’s smile softened, a gentle, almost unreadable look crossing his face as he studied you. he took a small step closer, lowering his voice slightly as if sensing the weight of what you were carrying. "of course," he said, his tone compassionate, "confession is always available for those who seek it. Would you like to meet later this afternoon?"

the way he said it — just us — made your stomach flip. you nodded, unable to fully trust your voice at the moment. your throat felt tight, your thoughts tangled. "yes. that would be… good."

his gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer, his eyes holding yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. there was nothing inappropriate about it, nothing overt, and yet you couldn’t help but feel as if there was something deeper there, hidden beneath the surface of his composed expression. you tried to ignore the way your body reacted to it, the way your skin seemed to burn with the need for more than just words.

"come by around eight," he said, his voice soft but firm, as if he was giving you permission to unburden yourself in a way you hadn’t before. "we can speak privately in the confessional."

your heart raced as he said it, the reality of what you were asking for sinking in. it wasn’t just confession — not for you. It was a way to be close to him, a way to sit in that small, private space, separated only by the thin barrier of the confessional screen. the idea of it — of being so close, alone, with him — made your chest tighten with anticipation.

you swallowed hard, nodding again. "thank you, father," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

he gave you one last kind, reassuring smile before you turned to leave, the echo of his words still ringing in your ears as you made your way toward the exit. as you stepped out into the cool air, your body still tingling with the thought of what was to come, your mind raced. confession wasn’t supposed to feel like this — like a secret thrill, a forbidden opportunity. but that’s exactly how it felt.

and it wasn’t just the confession itself. it was him. the way he carried himself with such calm authority, the way his voice seemed to wrap around you, pulling you deeper into your thoughts. you had tried to fight it, tried to deny it, but there was no use anymore.

you wanted him.

by the time the clock struck eight, you found yourself back at the church, your heart racing as you made your way inside. the church was mostly empty now, the quiet stillness of the afternoon wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. you could hear your own footsteps echoing softly as you walked down the aisle toward the confessional booth.

you hesitated for just a moment before stepping inside, the small, intimate space feeling even smaller than usual. the soft rustle of father charlie’s robes reached your ears as he entered the adjacent booth, and your breath hitched in your throat. the thin screen between you offered a sense of privacy, but it did nothing to stop the electricity that buzzed in the air.

"whenever you’re ready," came his voice, low and soothing, sending a shiver through you.

your mind raced, the words you had rehearsed suddenly seeming inadequate. how could you confess these feelings to him? How could you possibly admit that the sin you carried was him? the thought alone made your throat tighten, but you knew you couldn’t back out now.

"forgive me, father, for i have sinned…" you began, your voice shaky, barely more than a whisper, "it has been 160 days since my last confession"

you weren’t sure how you were going to get through this confession, but one thing was certain — the desire that burned inside you wasn’t something that could be easily absolved.

you hesitated, grappling with the words that felt so heavy on your tongue. "i've been having… thoughts," you started, feeling your cheeks flush. "sinful thoughts that i know i shouldn’t be having."

"sinful thoughts about someone?" he asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and caution.

"yes," you admitted, heat creeping up your cheeks. "someone i shouldn’t be thinking about. i know it’s wrong, but i can’t help it."

"tell me more," father charlie encouraged, his tone gentle but firm, as if he could sense the struggle within you.

"it’s... complicated,” you continued, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. "i’ve been trying to push these feelings away, but every time i see him, it’s like i’m drawn to him in a way i know isn’t right."

"why do you believe these feelings are wrong?” he asked, and you could hear the slightest hint of tension in his voice, a challenge that made your heart race.

"because he’s... celibate,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "and i shouldn’t feel this way about him. but i do."

the silence that followed was deafening. you could almost hear the clock ticking, each second feeling like an eternity. you held your breath, waiting for his response, feeling the heat of your confession hang in the air between you, "i don't know what to do, father. these thoughts won't go away"

the scent of incense swirled around you like a comforting yet suffocating blanket. you could hear the soft rustle of the priest’s robes on the other side of the screen. he took a deep breath.

"kneel"

the unexpected command took you by surprise. your heart raced at the thought, a mix of anxiety and anticipation flooding your senses. "kneel?" you echoed, trying to process his words.

"i want you to kneel."

you hesitated for just a moment, but something in his voice compelled you to comply. slowly, you knelt before the screen, feeling the coolness of the floor beneath your knees. your heart raced, each beat echoing in your ears as you sensed the shift in the air around you.

the curtain opened slightly, and father charlie stepped into view, his expression unreadable. the light from the candle illuminated his features, and for a moment, you were taken aback by the intensity in his gaze. there was a hunger there, a spark that made your pulse quicken.

father charlie looked down at you, bringing his hand down to your chin and tilting your head upwards to look him in the eyes. as the moment hung in the air, your heart raced, a wild drumbeat echoing in your ears. you could feel the heat radiating between you both, a magnetic pull that left you breathless. anticipation coursed through your veins, mingling with a desperate thrill that made your pulse quicken.

unexpectedly, he leaned down, stopping only inches away from your lips, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. you looked down at father charlie's parted lips, before looking back up at his eyes, glistening in the candlelight. your thoughts raced, much more sinful than they were before.

and just like that, father charlie closed the gap between you in a slow but passionate kiss. it felt as if you were breathing each other's air, your fingers moving up and tracing his arm. he then pulled away. you almost followed him, desperate for more, but you couldn't.

looking up at him, your heart raced, a needy look in your eyes.

the sound of father charlie unbuckling his belt rang through the church; anyone who walks in would know what was happening. but you didn't care.

he unzipped his pants before pulling them down, just past his underwear, the thin fabric revealing his large bulge. your was mouth already salivating at the thought of it. father charlie looked down at you with a nod, giving you permission.

your fingers made their way towards his waistband, slowly curling underneath his clothing before slowly pulling them down, just enough to reveal his erection.

gasping slightly at the size of him, you hesitated, your heart quickening.

father charlie moved his hand to the back of your head, urging you.

you couldn't wait any longer. you took deep breath before licking his tip, the taste of his pre-cum giving you the need for more.

desperately, your mouth took as much of him as it could, causing him to let out a soft moan as his tip touched the back of your throat. you looked up at him. the sight of him looking down at you with so much lust, so much greed in his eyes caused your stomach to flutter.

he grabbed onto the back of your hair, lightly pushing you back and forth before picking up momentum. father charlie threw his head back in pleasure, before looking into your eyes once again.

you moaned as the pace grew faster, causing his eyebrows to furrow at the vibration. and with that, he released, the warmth of it running down your throat.

looking up at him with admiration, he smiled slightly.

you knew this wasn't the last time.

#nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #father charlie mayhew #father charlie x reader #father charlie smut #grotesquerie #nicholas alexander chavez #777 #݁₊ ⊹ ݁˖ ⋆ strcwbrryklss

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cherriesncinnamon · 1 month ago

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forgive me / father charlie x fem!reader

synopsis: after recently becoming involved with the catholic church, you soon start having inappropriate fantasies about your priest. desperately wanting to atone, you confess your sins.

warnings/tags: handjob, unprotected sex (don't try this at home), mentions of self harm/repentance, priest x reader (i mean no harm to the catholic community, this is just fiction).

word count: 1.3k.

a/n: sooooo🥰 i'm obsessed with nicholas chavez. i'm not gonna lie, i haven't seen grotesquerie fully, but after seeing his scenes i had to write a one shot about father charlie. this is completely and utterly feral. me when i need him biblically.

link to another father charlie piece i've done due to popular demand!!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

I've never been a religious person. I've always believed that a higher power is unprovable, leading to my agnosticism. My mother is a devout Catholic, but she's never particularly pushed her beliefs onto me. That was until recently when she threatened to disown me if I refused to come to church for another Sunday.

The people are insufferable, the sermons are unstimulating, and I cannot bear knowing I could be doing something much more exciting with my morning. I sit at the very end of the pew, arms crossed in anguish, awaiting a middle aged, balding priest to appear and preach for an hour. But to my surprise, a much younger version emerges instead. Dark thick hair, darling brown eyes, and a charming smile. My eyes widen with intrigue at the strikingly handsome man before me. He begins to speak, walking up and down the rows of people, truly passionate about what he's saying. I'm paying attention to the words, but not so much the message. After the communion and the drinking of the wine, my mother and I mingle for a bit, chatting uselessness to the bored housewives. Church is the only liberating part of their week, and now I know why.

As if by a miracle of God, I become Catholic overnight. My mother is shocked at my interest in coming to church the following week, and the week after that, and that week after that. Each time I see him, my desire intensifies. Knowing that he has taken a vow of celibacy only entices me more. I imagine him bending me over the pews, his singular ring leaving an indent in my upper thigh. I need to confess. I need to release this demon that is plaguing my thoughts.

On a stormy Friday evening, I make my way to the back of the church, placing three hesitant knocks on his office door. The rest of the building is vacant, candle light being my only source of sight. His voices seeps through the door, permitting me to enter.

"Ah, Miss Y/L/N, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He welcomes me in with a warm smile, putting down the pen he was holding to usher me to sit.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I- I've come to confess." I swallow, stuttering my words in fear. Father Charlie cocks his head in question.

"I see. Anything you say should be in confidence, your confession will be safe with me." He replies, nodding in reassurance. I fiddle with the hem of my skirt in anticipation, heat rising to my cheeks from simply being alone with him. I drape my long hair over my shoulder and clear my throat.

"I've been having impure thoughts, Father."

"Okay. And what do these thoughts detail?" He probes, clasping his hands together on the wooden desk. The Bible sits closed next to him; I can feel it judging me.

"Sexual thoughts. I want to pleasure myself, but I know I can't." I grip at my throat which has become tight, my stomach tingling with the remembrance of my fantasies. Charlie loosens his Roman collar, eyes searching the room for anything to look at besides me.

"I think about you, Father. You punishing me for my sins, taking me, sliding yourself into me." I spill, cheeks on fire and wine red. Father Charlie is quick to stand up from his chair, pacing to the other side of the room.

"I have taken a vow. Please do not seduce me." He begs, reaching for the door handle.

I stand in front of him, his tall frame towering over me, eyes fixated on mine. His chest is heaving, lips slightly parted as he breathes. Standing on the tips of my toes, I whisper.

"Don't you want to know what it feels like, Father? Just once?" My bottom lip lightly grazes his ear lobe, increasing his breathing pace. Our faces are mere centimetres apart, and I'm using all of my might to stop myself tasting him.

"I cannot abandon my faith, I mustn't." He insists, expression pained and frustrated. His brow is furrowed, forehead glazed in sweat. I can tell he is holding himself back with all his strength, and I'm feeling brave.

I take my fingertips and slide them over his clothed cock, smiling as it hardens under my gentle touch. Charlie goes to remove my hand, but quickly retracts when I speed up, using my palm to add pressure. I slowly undo his leather belt, lifting the waistband of his black pants. Taking him in my grasp, I stroke his thick length, watching in euphoria as his head tips back in bliss. His hands seek the stability of the doorframe for support, his knees weakening more every second.

"Feel me." Slipping my panties to the side, I guide his fingers to my pussy, slick with my arousal, begging for contact.

"Oh, forgive me Lord." He cries out, teasing my entrance with his digits while I excite his tip dripping pre-cum with my thumb. He stares at me in awe when I lick myself off his fingers, cock throbbing, veins pulsing blood into him until he's unbearably hard.

Hungry for my kiss, he devours my lips, biting my bottom lip playfully. Our tongues slide across one another, his hands gripping the sides of my face. He tastes like the Merlot we have at communion; sweet and fruity. My hands snake around his neck, twirling the thick locks of hair at the nape. His lips take interest elsewhere, peppering erotic pecks across my jaw, to my neck, and to my chest. I unbutton my white dress shirt, revealing my braless breasts. His eyes widen, immediately manhandling and kissing the supple skin.

"I want to feel you inside of me. Please, Father." I moan, perching myself on the edge of his desk, skirt hiked up to my hips. I spread my legs wide, fully revealing myself to him. He exhales in defeat, slotting himself between me.

Charlie rests his hands on either side of me on the desk while I line up his cock to my entrance, pushing my hips towards him. Grabbing my waist, he enters me, his length filling my walls like a glove. His voice groans deeply against my neck, his hand pressed on my lower back for support. His thrusts start off slow and juvenile, but quickly speed up to a pace we both can't take for long. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him in deeper. I moan sweet noises with every movement and caress, realising that this is better than I could've imagined.

"You feel so good, this feels so good." He sobs, nails digging into my hips so hard they leave streaks of blood. The cross around his neck swings in my face, reminding me of how sin can feel so good.

Waves of pleasure wash over me, the coil inside of me tightening by the second. I pull the back of his head close to me as my climax arrives. I bite his lip hard in satisfaction, tasting his blood on my tongue. It's not long before he follows in a moaning mess, burying his head into my chest, grabbing my breast as his warm cum fills me.

It takes a minute of getting our breaths back to move. I use a tissue to wipe his seed off my thighs. Father Charlie hastily redresses, fixing his collar and clutching his necklace.

"Lord, forgive me. Forgive me for this cardinal sin. Forgive me for enjoying it." He prays on his knees, staring up at a portrait of God. I place my hand on his back, feeling some guilt.

"I need to repent. You need to punish me." He says, picking up his leather belt from the floor and placing it in my hands.

"How can something that feels like this be a sin?" He asks me, tears in his eyes. I shake my head, not knowing the answer myself. He takes his shirt off, showing me his scarred back.

"Punish me, please."

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #grotesquerie #smut warning #smut #father charlie #father charlie grotesquerie

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alastor-simp · 9 months ago

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Horror Movie Night😈 - Alastor x Reader

Charlie wanted to find an activity to bring everyone together, since a lot of the personalities in the hotel would clash. She had made a list of ideas, but majority of them were turn down for being too childish. The last option was a movie night with everyone, and surprisingly everyone agreed. The genre of movie was the real problem. Charlie wanted a musical. Vaggie had a preference for drama. Angel dust preferred either a steamy flick (aka porn) or comedy. Niffty voted for romance. Husk didn't really care, but he wouldn't be upset if it was an action movie. Sir Pentious was interested in historical / documentaries. Alastor was not a big fan of modern technology especially television, but he would give it a try if the movie was a horror. You enjoyed all genres of movies, so it didn't matter which one you saw. Coming up with an idea, you suggested pulling a name out of the hat, to decide the genre of movie that gets picked. Borrowing Husk's hat for a bit, everyone wrote their name on a piece of paper and tossed it in. After a quick shake, you grabbed the first piece of paper and pulled it out.

Yelp, looks like it was going to be a horror movie as Al's was the name you pulled out. Everyone had made their way to the couch, while some of them sat on the floor. They were all dressed in their pajamas. Niffty had made popcorn and drinks for everyone to enjoy during the movie. Charlie was lighting some candles to add some effect when the movie was playing. Next to you on the couch was Alastor. He was wearing a red stripped top, and black lounge pants. He seemed very cozy. "Hey Al. What movie did you pick?" Alastor looked at you, smiling big as always. 'Well my dear, I picked whatever seemed interesting! I hope you will enjoy it!" Giving an awkward smile back, your eyes turned toward the TV as soon as Charlie pressed play. You didn't mind horror movies, but being the scaredy cat that you were, they still made you scream.

The movie that Alastor picked was "The Descent." The start of the film was a bit slow, but it slowly began to build up overtime. It got to the point in the movie where the characters had entered into the large cave, to explore. Yeah, that was already a red flag. Scanning your eyes around the room, you took in everyone's reactions. Charlie and Vaggie were hugging the life out of each other. Niffty was smiling, but she was clutching on to her plushie very tightly. Angel was on edge and tried to cling on to Husk, only to be pushed back by him. Angel huffed and decided to a least grab Husk's hand for comfort, and Husk allowed that at least. Sir Pentious was cowering on the floor, wrapping his whole tail around him. Alastor was just smiling next to you, obviously enjoying where the movie was going. You, on the other hand, was getting a very bad feeling in your stomach as the characters kept exploring the cave. The pillow that you were holding was being used as a shield as you kept hiding behind it, waiting for something to happen.

The climax of the movie had arrived when the grotesque bat-like monster had made an appearance and proceeded to feast on one of the characters. Everyone in the room had screamed and jumped, including you, as you covered your face with the pillow. There was a chuckle to your right as Alastor was laughing, at both the movie and your adorable reactions. From the start of the film, Al was seeking glances at you, wondering what your next reaction would be. The face you made when the dread set in was highly entertaining to him. However, he did pity you a bit, as he could see that the movie was frightening you tremendously. Unbeknownst to you, you felt someone drape their arm behind your shoulders, pulling your body closer towards them. Looking up from the pillow, it was clear that it was Al who had done it. His eyes were still watching the movie, clearly enjoying the gruesome moments. Not saying a word, you continued to watch the movie, but the feelings of fear had diminished a bit due to Alastor's actions. The movie had finally ended, as the credits began to flash on the screen. Everyone gave a sigh of relief, except Al . Clapping with glee, he found the movie quite invigorating. Vaggie rolled her eyes at him, while whispering "creepy weirdo" under her breath. It had gotten super late, so it was time to head for bed.

Wishing everyone a good night sleep, you carried yourself back to your room, despite the prickling sensation that you felt crawling up your back. That movie was still on your mind, but you tried to push the fear away. Alastor was following from behind , since the both of you were next door neighbors. "Feeling alright, my dear? That picture show had you shaking like a leaf!" He was definitely smirking when he said that. "No s✪✪✪, Sherlock." Grumbling your response back at him, you continued to make your way to your cozy abode. Having arrived at the door, you turned to Al, who had just arrived at his door. "Good night, Alastor." "You as well, my dear!" Making over to the bed, you laid down and got under the covers, adjusting yourself to get comfortable. It took a while, but the droopy feeling had taken effect on your eyes, and you fell into a deep sleep. Pitch blackness was all around you. The muscles in your body felt like they had been ripped apart. The air felt heavy, almost dry like you were underground. Something was moving around you, circling you, watching you. The monstrous sounds it made created a haunting echo. You begged your body to respond, it was no use. The sounds were coming closer. No. NO! You bellowed out a scream.

"Y/N!!" Someone was shaking you, causing your eyes to snap open. Your body was shaking and there were tears in your eyes. You slowly realized that you had a nightmare. Alastor was in front of you, hands on top of your shoulders. His glowing eyes eyeing you with concern, yet his smile was still present. "A-Al? W-what's wrong? W-why are you in m-my room?" Struggling out a response, your eyes looked at Al in confusion. "My dear, I had heard your shrieks of terror and rushed over! It appeared you were having a nightmare! A rather horrible one at that!" He was still holding on to you, which gave you some comfort. "Oh, I'm so sorry if I disturbed your sleep." Taking in a few deep breaths, helped tremendously as you were able to talk properly and control the shaking. Shaking his head, Al had let go of your shoulders, and moved his hands to your cheeks. "Darling, there is no need for you to apologize! But, may I ask what were you dreaming about?" Massaging your cheeks like a cat, Al smiled down at you, softness in his eyes. Explaining it in full detail, Al realized that the film you had witness, was the main cause of the night terror. He had known that you were scared, but not to the point it would result in you kicking and screaming in your sleep. He needed to rectify this.

"Come along, my dear!" Your body left the sanctity of your bed, and ended up in Alastors arms. He was carrying you like a bride. "W-what Al?! Where are you taking me?!" Whispering at him, while your brain was trying to wrap around this situation. Cocking his head to the side, he gave you an optimistic smile. "To my room!" There was no time to refute back as the both of you had arrived at his door. Creaking loudly, the door to his room had opened by itself. His room was like something out of a story book. One side was the normal room decor, illuminated with candle light. The walls were plastered with Alastor's personal trinkets and stag heads. The other side was saturated in moss, tall pine trees looming above. Chirps of crickets could be heard and glowing fireflies were flying around. Eyes widening in amazement, you continued to gaze around the room, earning a laugh from Al. In the center of the room, was an enormous bed, covered in satin sheets and black pillows. "How... How were you able to do this?" You breathed out, as Al placed you on the bed. Raising an eyebrow, he smiled down at you, wagging his finger. "Ah ah ah! A magician never reveals his secrets, my dear!" A thought popped in your head: "Where was he going to sleep." Snapping his fingers, Alastor used his powers to snuff out the flames from the candles, leaving only the fireflies as a source of light. Realization hit you, causing you to jump off the bed, leaving Al staring at you in confusion. "Wait Al! Are you okay with this? Sharing a bed?" Alastor looked at you, head crooked to the side. "Why of course! Are you oppose to the idea? Haven't you had your share of sleepovers with the effeminate spider?" Well yes you had, but this situation was different. "I'm not opposed to it, but I don't want you to do something you aren't comfortable with." You told Alastor this, rubbing your arm with your hand.

He was still befuddled by your statement until he began to wrap his head around of what you were saying. How charming you were! Thinking of him and his aversion to physical contact. "Darling, There is no need to worry." His body moved to crawl under the covers, sitting on the bed and looking at you. His finger pointed towards you, beckoning for you to return back to the bed. Still hesitant about the whole situation and observing his body language, it came to your decision that he was really okay with it. Your feet carried you back over, and slowly made its way under the covers, plopping your head on the pillow. Al huffed, a little annoyed that you didn't follow his instructions. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him. Your head was engulfed in his chest, feeling his chin, nuzzling it. "Comfortable, Y/N?" A warm breath whispered into your ear. His voice sent chills down your back, while also causing your heart to skip a beat. "Mmph" was your response, as your mouth was muffled against his chest. Hearing a hum from above, you felt Alastor nestle closer, hooking his leg over yours. The static emanating from him had quieted down and the thumping sound of his heart sounded much clearer. Extending out a yawn, your eyelids began droop while listening to the calming sound of Al's heartbeat. Soon, your eyelids had closed and you fell into a deep sleep.

Managing to stay awake, Al had watched you, making sure you were able to relax. He never in a million years thought he would be doing something like this. He was the radio demon, the most fearsome and all powerful overlord. Everyone trembled in fear from the sight of him, yet here he was now, cuddling you in his bed. He was getting soft, which displeased him greatly, yet he couldn't help but find it comforting as well. Your very-being was changing him, in both a good and bad way. Sighing, he pushed his thoughts away as he had a busy schedule tomorrow and needed to be well rested for his broadcast. Nuzzling closer, Alastor hugged you tighter. His glowing eyes dimmed and he had fallen asleep as well.

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goldfades · 27 days ago

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LOVE IS THE ONE THING THAT CANNOT BE TAINTED BY FEAR OR DOUBT──FATHER CHARLIE MAYHEW (part 2)

part one!!

for this request!!

─ summary | a week after megan caught you and father charlie, higher-ranking members of the church summon both of you for a stern warning. they threaten severe consequences—not just losing your positions, but eternal damnation—if you don't end your affair, and though you try to stay composed, charlie's anger flares as he refuses to accept their condemnation

─ pairing | father charlie mayhew x fem!mother!reader

─ word count | 5.3k

─ warnings | pretty angsty + dramatic but has a happy ending, forbidden love, descriptions of having a big family. also wanted to put out there that this in no way shape or form trying to depict the church as something bad, every church is different and this is just fictional and very self-indulgent.

─ ev's notes | my requests are open if you wanna send anything in! this was super self indulgent and i swear i say that every time but it's true. the happy ending was sorta like... my happy ending LMAO but i just wanted them to end up together. this was super fast paced (ik... 5k words and """fast paced""") but if u read it, you'll know what i mean.

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

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

Father Charlie’s face is pale, his eyes wide with fear as the weight of what just happened begins to settle between you. The churchyard, once a sanctuary, now feels like a trap. You stand there, unable to move, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Megan—” you try to call out, your voice catching in your throat, but she’s already gone, disappearing into the shadows of the church.

Father Charlie turns to you, his hand trembling as he runs it through his hair. “This… this can’t get out. It’ll ruin everything,” he says, his voice breaking under the pressure. He paces, eyes darting toward the church doors as if expecting Megan to reappear any moment with a crowd of witnesses.

Your chest tightens. You know what’s at stake—the life you’ve both built within the church, the delicate balance of your roles, the unspoken rules you’ve crossed. There’s no undoing what’s been done.

“I didn’t mean—” you begin, but he cuts you off, stepping closer, his hands gripping your arms with desperate intensity.

“It’s not your fault,” he says, his voice urgent. “I should have never let it get this far. But Megan… she can’t know. No one can know.”

You nod, but the truth gnaws at you. This wasn’t just a fleeting moment of weakness. The kiss—the feelings behind it—have been building for longer than you want to admit. And now that the barrier has been broken, there’s no pretending you can go back to how things were.

“What if she tells?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

Father Charlie’s eyes meet yours, his face full of guilt and something else, something darker—a simmering fear. “I’ll talk to her. I’ll make sure she doesn’t say anything.”

The way he says it makes your stomach twist. You’ve never seen him like this, so cornered, so desperate. For a brief moment, you wonder if you’ve unleashed something in him that can’t be controlled.

“I have to fix this,” he mutters more to himself than to you, already starting to move toward the church, determination in his stride. “Go home. Don’t come back until I say it’s safe.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes stops you. There’s no room for discussion. The weight of your guilt, mingled with fear, presses heavy on your chest as you turn and leave, knowing that the fragile world you both clung to is about to shatter.

As you walk away from the church, the echoes of the kiss linger on your lips, but now they taste bitter—haunted by the knowledge that you’ve crossed a line you can never uncross. And Megan, with her watchful eyes, has seen it all.

The walk from the church feels impossibly long, every step weighed down by the suffocating pressure of what’s just transpired. The once-bright sky has dimmed into muted shades of twilight, the air thick with impending doom. You can feel the weight of it pressing against your chest, making it hard to breathe. The churchyard, so familiar and comforting just moments ago, now seems cold, distant—like it’s pushing you away.

You glance back once, just once, and catch sight of Charlie disappearing into the stone walls of the church. His movements are hurried, frantic, and it only makes the knot in your stomach tighten. You know he’s going to confront Megan. You know he’ll do everything in his power to convince her to stay silent, to protect both of you, but the seed of doubt has already taken root. What if she doesn’t listen? What if Megan has already spread word of what she saw?

The fear claws at your insides.

You replay the moment over and over in your mind—the kiss, the way his lips had pressed against yours with a hunger that had long been suppressed, the heat of his body against yours. It was more than a moment of weakness; it was the culmination of everything you had been hiding, everything you’d tried to bury under the weight of duty. You had always known there was something between you and Charlie, but you had told yourself it was nothing, that it could never be anything more than unspoken glances and the occasional brush of hands. But now, the truth is undeniable.

You love him.

And it terrifies you.

As you turn the corner, moving further away from the church and deeper into the quiet streets, you try to suppress the panic building inside you. You force yourself to breathe, slow and steady, even as the thought of what comes next twists and knots in your chest. Megan… she had seen everything. Her eyes, wide with shock and something close to betrayal, flashed in your mind like a warning. She would never understand. She couldn’t. To her, this wasn’t just a mistake or a lapse in judgment—it was blasphemy, a defilement of everything sacred.

You walk faster, as if the distance could somehow cleanse you of what just happened, but the weight of your sins follows you, heavy and unrelenting. By the time you reach your small, modest home, the last of the daylight is gone. The darkness feels fitting, like a cloak draped over the truth you’re so desperate to hide.

You fumble with the key, your hands trembling, and push open the door. Inside, the space feels too small, too confining. The walls close in around you, suffocating in their familiarity. You collapse onto the nearest chair, your mind racing, trying to make sense of what comes next.

You think of Megan again, the way she had slipped away so quickly, disappearing into the shadows like a ghost. What had she seen? How much had she heard? Would she go to the elders? To the congregation? Your stomach churns at the thought of everyone knowing, their judgmental eyes stripping you bare, seeing you for what you truly are—a sinner. You can already picture the looks, the whispers that would follow, the way they’d turn on you. And Charlie—God, what would happen to him? His role as a priest, his entire life, would be torn apart if this got out.

You can’t let that happen.

But no matter how much you try to focus, your thoughts keep pulling back to him. To the way he looked at you in those moments after Megan had fled. His face, pale with fear, but his eyes… they had been filled with something more than just panic. There had been a tenderness there, a quiet desperation, as if he had wanted to say something, to comfort you, but the words had been lost in the gravity of the situation. And now, the distance between you feels like a chasm, one that neither of you can cross until you know what Megan will do.

The hours stretch on in painful silence. You sit by the window, staring out into the night, your heart heavy with dread. Every sound, every rustle of wind, makes you jump, half-expecting someone to come knocking at your door, to drag you back to the church and expose your sin to the world. But no one comes. The night is as still as your breath, suspended in an unbearable waiting.

You wonder how Charlie is faring. Is he talking to Megan right now? Is he pleading with her, trying to make her understand? Or is it too late—has she already made up her mind? The uncertainty gnaws at you, each minute that passes feeling like an eternity.

The quiet is suddenly interrupted by a soft knock at the door. You freeze, your heart stopping for a beat, your blood running cold. For a moment, you can’t move, can’t breathe. Then, slowly, you rise from the chair, your body moving on instinct. You approach the door with trembling hands, every step echoing like a drumbeat in the stillness of the house.

When you open it, Charlie stands on the other side.

His face is pale, his eyes dark and sunken, as though he’s aged years in the span of a few hours. His expression is grim, but beneath the weariness, there’s something else—something raw, something desperate. He steps inside without a word, closing the door behind him, and the weight of everything that’s happened settles between you.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

For a long moment, he doesn’t speak. His hands are shaking, and you notice the way he clenches them into fists, trying to steady himself. “She’s not going to tell anyone,” he finally says, but his voice is hollow, and you know that’s not the whole story.

You take a step closer, searching his face for answers. “What did you say to her?”

Charlie’s eyes meet yours, and there’s a flicker of something dark in them—something you haven’t seen before. “I made sure she understood,” he says, but there’s no relief in his voice. No victory. Only guilt.

Your stomach tightens as his words sink in. You want to believe him, to trust that everything will be okay now, but the look in his eyes tells you that nothing will ever be the same. Not between you. Not between him and the church. And certainly not between him and Megan.

The silence stretches on, thick and heavy with unspoken truths, and you realize that whatever you thought you were protecting has already been lost. The kiss, the secret moments, the connection between you and Charlie—it’s all unraveling, piece by piece, and there’s no going back now.

You don’t know what he did. And you’re not sure you want to.

All you know is that something has shifted between you, and the fragile world you’ve built together is starting to crack.

“I… I couldn’t let her ruin this,” he says, his voice low and almost pleading. He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to cup your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek as though he’s trying to memorize the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips. “You have no idea what you mean to me.”

You swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. There’s a rawness to his words, a vulnerability that you’ve never seen in him before, and it makes the knot in your throat tighten. “Charlie,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

“No,” he says, his voice firmer now, more certain. “You need to hear this. I love you.” The words hang between you, heavy and full of meaning. His eyes search yours, as though he’s terrified of what your response might be, but at the same time, there’s a conviction in him that tells you he’s been holding onto this for far too long.

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, the world falls away. The fear, the uncertainty, the guilt—it all fades into the background, and all that’s left is the truth. He loves you.

And God help you, you love him too.

“I love you, too,” you finally say, the words slipping out in a rush, like a dam breaking. The weight of them is staggering, but also freeing, as though admitting it has somehow lifted the burden from your chest.

Charlie’s eyes soften, and in that moment, the darkness, the fear, everything that’s been hanging over you both seems to dissolve, leaving only the two of you in this fragile, stolen moment.

He pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead, then your temple, and finally, he presses a soft kiss to your lips. It’s tender, sweet, and laced with the kind of love that’s been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. For a few precious seconds, you allow yourself to get lost in him—the warmth of his body, the way his hands cradle your face like you’re something fragile and precious. There’s no guilt in this kiss, no shame. Just love.

But as sweet as it is, there’s still a bitter edge, the reminder of what’s been lost. The weight of what happened earlier, of Megan’s watchful eyes, lingers like a shadow over your joy. You pull back slightly, your heart aching as you search his face for reassurance.

“What are we going to do?” you ask, the question heavy with fear and uncertainty.

Charlie lets out a soft sigh, his hand still resting against your cheek. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

The simplicity of his words settles over you, warm and comforting, but the reality of the situation isn’t so easily dismissed. You know the risks, the consequences that loom over both of you like a dark cloud, but right now, in this moment, with his arms wrapped around you, it feels like you can face anything.

He leans his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as though he’s savoring the closeness, the peace that you’ve found in each other, if only for this fleeting moment. “I don’t care what happens,” he whispers. “As long as I have you.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a mixture of happiness and sorrow, because you know that this love—the love you’ve both fought so hard to deny—is as beautiful as it is dangerous. The church, the life you’ve built, the faith that has defined you for so long—it all stands in opposition to what you feel for each other. And yet, here you are, standing on the precipice, ready to fall.

“I’m scared,” you admit softly, your voice trembling.

Charlie pulls you tighter against him, his breath warm against your skin. “So am I,” he confesses, his voice breaking just a little. “But I won’t lose you. Not now. Not ever.”

You stay like that for what feels like hours, wrapped in each other’s arms, finding solace in the quiet, in the shared heartbeat that thumps in time with your own. For once, it feels like you’re not fighting against the world, but standing together, ready to face whatever comes next.

But the bitterness still lingers, a quiet reminder that nothing about this is simple. The danger hasn’t passed, and Megan’s silence, though promised, may not last forever. You both know that this moment—this love—comes with a cost.

Still, for now, you allow yourself to hold on to the sweetness of it, to the warmth of his embrace, and the knowledge that whatever happens next, you won’t face it alone.

───

The bells toll, echoing through the towering walls of the old church, signaling the end of Sunday Mass. Parishioners, still murmuring prayers under their breath, make their way toward the grand double doors, their heads dipped in reverence. The air is thick with incense, mingling with the faint scent of candle wax, and the murmured conversations of the faithful filter out as they depart.

You stand by the altar, adjusting your habit, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settle over you. It had been a week since the kiss—since Megan’s eyes had caught the forbidden moment. You and Father Charlie had been careful, the tension between you palpable but unspoken. There was no room for slip-ups now, not with what was at stake.

But just as you turn to head back toward the sacristy, you notice something that sends a chill through you. A group of clergy—men dressed in higher clerical vestments, their expressions stern and unyielding—are making their way toward the two of you. The archbishop, Father Lucian, leads them, his presence commanding and severe, a man of high standing in the church, second only to the bishop himself. Behind him are two more senior priests, Father Augustine and Monsignor Ramos, known for their strict adherence to church doctrine.

Charlie stands frozen for a moment, his usual calm demeanor stiffening as he recognizes the gravity of what’s about to happen. His eyes meet yours briefly, and in that split second, you both know. They know.

Father Lucian stops in front of you, his hands clasped behind his back. His face is impassive, but the weight of his gaze is suffocating, filled with judgment and a quiet, simmering disappointment. The silence stretches on, unbearable, until finally, he speaks.

“Father Charles,” Lucian’s voice is deep and resonant, cutting through the stillness like a blade. “Mother Y/N. We need to speak.”

Charlie straightens, his jaw set in that familiar stubborn way, but his eyes flicker with something darker—anger, perhaps, or fear. You step closer to him, your heart hammering in your chest.

“We’ve been made aware of certain… transgressions,” Father Lucian continues, his voice cold, deliberate. “Ones that go against the very foundation of your vows—vows of purity, of dedication to God and His teachings.”

Father Charlie’s hands tighten into fists at his sides, though he doesn’t say anything yet. His silence, however, feels like the calm before a storm.

“We’ve heard unsettling rumors,” Monsignor Ramos says, his voice carrying a softer, but no less menacing tone. “Of inappropriate closeness between the two of you. Intimacies that have no place within these sacred walls.”

Your stomach drops, the air around you suddenly feeling too thick, too stifling. The weight of their accusation presses against your chest, suffocating.

Father Augustine steps forward, his eyes sharp with accusation. “You both took vows before God,” he says, his voice unwavering. “To forsake earthly temptations for a higher calling. But what we’ve witnessed… it is not the first time such weakness has crept into the church. We cannot allow it to continue.”

You want to speak, to defend yourself, but your throat tightens, and words fail you. Beside you, Charlie’s breathing grows heavier, his anger barely contained.

“If you do not end this… affair immediately,” Father Lucian says, his voice dropping, “there will be consequences far worse than dismissal. You will not only lose your positions here, but you will face the eternal damnation of your souls. Your actions are not just a violation of church law but of God’s law. Do you understand?”

The implications hit you like a blow—hell. They’re threatening you with eternal punishment.

Father Charlie, who had remained silent until now, suddenly takes a step forward, his voice trembling with anger. “And who are you,” he says, his voice low but dangerous, “to tell us about the state of our souls?”

The senior clergy exchange glances, surprised at his defiance. But Charlie continues, his voice growing stronger. “Yes, we broke our vows. But this—what we feel—it's not some… sinful temptation. It’s love. And I won’t stand here and let you condemn us without knowing what’s in our hearts.”

Father Lucian’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, the tension is palpable. “Father Charles, you forget your place,” he says coldly. “This is not a matter of love. It is a matter of duty. Of obedience. You swore your life to God, not to your desires.”

“I didn’t swear my life to a prison,” Charlie snaps, his voice shaking with fury. “I swore my life to serve God, to care for people. But you—you’d rather see us as sinners than as human beings.”

“Father Charles,” Monsignor Ramos says, his voice hardening, “you are speaking out of turn.”

“No,” Charlie interrupts, turning to you, his hand reaching for yours without hesitation. “I’m speaking the truth. I won’t let you use God as a weapon to control us.”

Your hand grips his tightly, and despite the cold sweat trickling down your spine, you feel an odd sense of strength radiating from him. The threat of hellfire lingers in the air, but for the first time, it doesn’t feel so terrifying with him standing beside you.

Father Lucian’s gaze hardens, his lips thinning into a severe line. “This is your final warning. End this now, or face the consequences.”

Charlie stares back at him, unwavering. “I’d rather face hell,” he says softly, “than live a lie.”

The silence that follows is deafening, the weight of his words hanging between you and the clergy like a challenge. They stand, frozen for a moment, taken aback by his refusal. The unspoken threat remains—hell, ruin, the dismantling of everything you’ve both worked for.

But for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel afraid. You look at Charlie, his face set in defiance, and something inside you shifts. Maybe this is the beginning of the end, but it’s also the beginning of something else—something true, something worth fighting for.

The silence stretches unbearably in the cold churchyard, the tension thick as a storm building on the horizon. The senior clergy stare at Charlie, their expressions hard, almost disbelieving that he’s standing against them. Father Lucian’s eyes narrow further, but his voice remains steady, with a chilling authority.

“You are not beyond redemption,” he says, the words deliberate, cutting. “But defiance will not save you from the consequences of your actions. Think carefully before you decide to sacrifice everything—your calling, your salvation—for something so… fleeting.”

Charlie’s grip tightens around your hand. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down. His next words, however quiet, carry an unshakable resolve. “I’ve already decided. I won’t live a life of half-truths. If that’s what it takes to serve God here, then I’ll find my own way.”

Father Augustine inhales sharply, looking between you and Charlie with something resembling disappointment—or perhaps disdain. “This will not go unpunished,” he mutters, his tone cold and unyielding. “There are consequences for every action, Father Charles. You’ve been warned.”

Without another word, the three clergymen turn on their heels and leave, their footsteps echoing ominously against the stone floor of the church. The weight of their warning lingers, even after they disappear into the distance.

You and Charlie stand there, unmoving, his hand still wrapped tightly around yours. The tension in his body slowly ebbs, though his grip remains firm, as if he’s grounding himself in this moment, in you. The sky above is clear, but there’s a storm brewing, one you can’t ignore any longer.

“Charlie…” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the quiet rustling of leaves in the courtyard. “What are we going to do?”

He exhales deeply, his shoulders dropping as he turns to face you fully. His eyes search yours, filled with the same mixture of love and uncertainty that’s been building between you since that night in the church. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice softer now, the fire from before replaced with a gentle resignation. “But I know I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

You feel the same pull in your chest, the same conflicted desire that’s been tearing you apart. Everything you’ve built within the church, every vow you’ve taken—it’s all crumbling around you. But Charlie… he’s the one thing that still feels real, the one person you’ve come to rely on, to love in ways you never expected.

“I can’t lose you either,” you admit, your throat tight, emotions swirling in a confusing blur. “But they’re right… If we keep going like this, it won’t just be losing our positions. It’ll be worse.”

Charlie’s gaze darkens for a moment, as if weighing the enormity of it all. He steps closer, lifting his hand to gently cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek in a tender, almost reverent motion. “I know the risks,” he says, his voice steady, filled with an unshakable determination. “But the risk of not having you in my life… that’s worse.”

You close your eyes at his touch, leaning into the warmth of his hand. His words wrap around your heart, pulling you closer to the edge of something you can’t take back.

───

The decision had been made in a heartbeat, almost too quickly for either of you to process. One moment, you were standing in the courtyard, exchanging quiet promises of love and loyalty; the next, you were both packing your modest belongings in a small room that had been your sanctuary for years.

Charlie’s movements were hurried but deliberate, his usual calm demeanor now laced with an urgency that mirrored your own. You threw robes and personal items into a small bag, your heart pounding as the reality of your situation sank in.

“We can’t stay here,” he had said, his voice shaking with conviction. “Not after that. If we don’t leave now, they’ll find a way to tear us apart.”

You agreed, knowing deep down that the church, once a symbol of comfort and belonging, had become a prison. It wasn’t just Megan’s spying or the warnings from the senior clergy—it was everything. The suffocating weight of the vows, the whispered rumors, the constant feeling of being watched. You couldn’t breathe here anymore.

The room, usually filled with quiet prayer and reflection, was now buzzing with the frantic energy of departure. Charlie stopped for a moment, watching you from across the room. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity you had rarely seen before. He came closer, brushing his hand across your cheek, tilting your chin so that you met his gaze.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “We’re leaving everything behind.”

You nodded, heart pounding, but with a certainty that surprised even you. “I’m sure. I can’t stay here, Charlie. Not without you. Not like this.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as if savoring the moment, as if holding on to this fragile piece of certainty before everything crumbled.

“We’ll be alright,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “We’ll find a way. Together.”

You smiled, a bittersweet knot forming in your chest. The thought of leaving everything you’d known was terrifying—but the thought of staying, of pretending, of hiding this love… that was worse.

A knock at the door startled you both, and your heart leapt in your chest. You turned to the door, half expecting to see Father Lucian or another member of the clergy, ready to drag you back into the suffocating confines of the church’s judgment.

But it was Megan.

Her eyes were wide, but there was something softer in her gaze now—something you hadn’t seen before. She hesitated in the doorway, her hand lingering on the knob as she looked between you and Charlie.

“I—I heard,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re leaving?”

Charlie tensed beside you, but you took a step forward, your heart racing. “Megan… I know what you saw. I know what you think, but—”

She shook her head, cutting you off. “No. It’s not that. I—” Her voice faltered, and she took a deep breath, glancing at Charlie before continuing. “I’m not here to stop you. I just… I just wanted to say I understand. I don’t agree with it, but I understand why you’re doing this.”

You blinked, taken aback. Megan, the one who had spied on you, who had been so suspicious of your every move, was standing here, offering understanding. It felt surreal.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” she added softly. “But if you’re really leaving, you need to go now. They’ll come looking for you.”

Charlie’s hand found yours, squeezing it tightly. You felt a rush of gratitude toward Megan, despite everything that had happened between you. Her warning, her silence—it was an unexpected act of kindness.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the words feeling heavy with meaning.

She nodded once, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before she turned and left, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

You turned to Charlie, your breath catching in your throat. “It’s time.”

He nodded, his jaw set, determination burning in his eyes. “Let’s go.”

Together, you walked out of the room, leaving behind the life you had known, the vows you had once believed in, and the future you had thought was certain. The church, once towering and holy, now felt like a distant memory as you stepped into the world beyond its gates.

You didn’t know what would come next—where you would go or what you would do—but with Charlie by your side, the fear didn’t seem quite as overwhelming. You had each other. And for now, that was enough.

EPILOGUE

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow across the rolling hills and fields that stretched beyond your front porch. The house you now called home sat nestled against a small grove of trees, a place you’d never imagined, yet somehow felt destined to find.

A soft breeze rustled through the open windows, carrying with it the distant laughter of children playing in the yard. You smiled, leaning against the wooden railing as you watched them—a picture of the life you had once dreamed of, now fully realized.

Two little girls, their dark curls bouncing in the breeze, were chasing after their younger brother, their giggles filling the air. They were so full of energy, so full of life. The kind of life you had longed for back when everything felt so suffocating, back when the idea of having a family seemed distant and impossible.

Behind you, the front door creaked open, and Charlie stepped out, two mugs of tea in his hands. His face, though older and more weathered now, still held that same softness that had always drawn you to him. He passed you a cup and wrapped an arm around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watched the scene unfold before you.

You smiled, leaning into him, your heart swelling with contentment. This was the dream you had once shared with him, whispered between kisses when the future seemed so uncertain. But now, here it was—tangible, real. Your two daughters, as spirited and wild as you had imagined, and your son, a bundle of mischief with Charlie’s inquisitive nature.

You stood there in comfortable silence, watching as your eldest, a curious seven-year-old, tried to corral her younger siblings with all the seriousness of someone far beyond her years. The younger girl, barely five, kept bursting into fits of giggles, while your three-year-old son—always a handful—tumbled into the grass, quickly distracted by the dogs.

It was a far cry from the life you had left behind, from the cold stone walls of the church and the whispers of judgment. You had built this life together—away from the suffocating expectations, the prying eyes, and the fear. Out here, in this open space, you were free to be who you truly were, without shame, without fear of punishment.

Charlie turned his head slightly, brushing his lips against your cheek. “You’re happy?”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with so much love it almost hurt. “I am,” you whispered, reaching up to touch his face. “I really am.”

He smiled, his eyes softening in the way they always did when he looked at you—filled with a love that had only grown stronger over the years. You still had your moments of doubt, of course—those nights when the past crept in, when the memory of everything you’d left behind tugged at your mind. But then you would look at him, at the children you had brought into the world, and it would all disappear.

Charlie pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as the children’s laughter echoed through the evening air. The weight of the past had faded into something distant, something that didn’t define you anymore.

This was your future now—a family, a home filled with love and laughter. You had chosen this life, together, and it was better than any dream you had ever dared to hope for.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, your eldest daughter ran up to you, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Mama! Look what we found!”

She held up a small flower she had picked from the yard, and you crouched down to examine it, your heart swelling with pride at her joy over such a simple thing.

“It’s beautiful,” you told her, smoothing back a stray curl from her face.

She beamed, darting off again to join her siblings, and you stood back up, feeling Charlie’s presence beside you, steady and strong.

“Two daughters, a son, and two dogs,” he repeated softly, his voice filled with that same awe he always carried when he talked about your family. “You’ve always had the best dreams.”

You leaned into him, your fingers intertwined, as the last light of the day faded. “And you’ve always made them come true.”

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#charlie mayhew #nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez #father charlie mayhew #father charlie x reader #grotesquerie #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas chavez fluff #nicholas chavez fanfiction #father charlie smut #charlie mayhew x reader #charlie mayhew smut #charlie mayhew x y/n

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thinkinonsense · 2 months ago

Text

TALK, TALK₊˚⊹ ʚɞ

logan howlett x mutant!reader

cw: fluff, sweet logan

a/n: inspired by the charli xcx song<3 everything in spanish and french is from google translate so if it's incorrect, that why.

you were no stranger to crushes. they always showed up out of the blue; you couldn't help it. all it took was one glance, a smile, a bit of small talk, anything really. none of this changed when he entered your life.

maybe cupid had struck you in the ass at some point.

for weeks, everyone in the mansion knew where your feelings had floated. normally, you try not to develop any crushes on the people you see daily but this guy was different. even sort of dangerous; the thrill excited you.

"you don't understand, storm." you groan, helping her train downstairs. "there's just something about him. i can't explain it."

your dear friend laughs, swinging at the boxing bag again. "i'm not saying not to go after him... just be careful is all."

"well, there's nothing to worry about because he hasn't even talked to me." a small sigh escapes you.

"he hasn't talked to you?" she questions. you shake your head. "that's odd. i wonder why not?"

"well, he keeps to himself." you shrug, thinking of excuses besides the fact that he likely doesn't share the same feelings you do.

"hm... have you tried talking to him?"

"nooo." you giggle nervously. "absolutely not! you know how i get when i actually have to talk to people i have crushes on."

"i know." storm joins in on your laughter. "it's like someone set you on top of a stove; you just start melting."

"it all comes out like, 'blah, blah, blah'."

"you never know, maybe he speaks 'blah, blah, blah' too."

little did storm know that her words would linger around in your head every time you see him.

₊˚⊹ ʚɞ

obliviousness was not a trait logan had. he noticed everything; whether he liked it or not. in this case, he didn't mind noticing everything about you.

it started when he saw a shadow following him to the cafeteria, down the hall, and to the training room. he tried to be polite and ignore it; too afraid to scare you off entirely.

a couple days after your talk with storm, charles sent the older mutants out on a mission. this included storm, scott, logan, and yourself. upon the return, all of the older mutants gathered in the kitchen to unwind. you, storm, and kurt sat together at the table. the two of them bickered back and forth about something silly that happened during the mission.

it wasn't fair how good logan looked during the mission. the tight black spandex did wonders for his form. it felt like some high school crush. butterfly's always in your stomach when he looks at you.

on the other side of the room, logan sat in a wooden chair next to hank, with a cigar dangling from his lips. it must've felt like you were burning holes into the side of his head. even storm had to nudge you to look away from him, telling you to stop giving him 'heart eyes'.

"think someone's got a crush on you, pal." hank teases logan. "heard she's been waiting for you to talk to her."

you looked pretty, sitting at the table with a slight red stain on the inside of your lips, matching the flush of red on your cheeks when you notice him catching you staring. logan couldn't think of anything that compare to the ethereal sight before him.

₊˚⊹ ʚɞ

the glass of red wine on your hand was now empty, allowing you to excuse yourself from their conversation for a moment. at the counter, you pour yourself another glass; finishing off the bottle. when you turn to toss the bottle in the trash, you bump into someone.

"s-sorry." you squeal before realizing that it was logan that you bumped into.

"no need to apologize." he assures.

one of logan's big wide palms places itself on your waist, helping keep you upright. all of the wine flooded your mind, unable to form a proper sentence.

"dios mío, eres tan hermoso." you ramble drunkenly shooting stars from your eyes.

*oh my god, you're so gorgeous.

logan couldn't be more confused by your suddenly language switch but he found it awfully amusing. it wasn't a total surprise, he knew you were incredibly intelligent. charles always sang your praises. if you were even a little bit sober right now, you would be mortified.

"whatcha' thinking about, sweetheart?" he smirks, loving how flustered you became.

little did you know, the 200 year old mutant has definitely picked up on some different languages over his lifetime. to logan it didn't even matter whether or not he understood what you meant, he just wanted you to keep talking.

"je veux embrasser ton joli visage." your tongue runs over your bottom lip.

*wanna kiss your pretty face.

"hm... tell me more." logan purrs into your ear. completely forgetting about everyone else in the room.

"he estado enamorado de ti durante meses, ¿sabes?"

*i've had a crush on you for months, you know?

"je pense à toi tous les jours." you step closer, drunk with confidence. "pendant les entraînements, en mission, seule au lit... tout le temps."

*i think about you everyday. during training, on missions, alone in bed... all the time.

"such a smart girl, aren't 'cha, honey?" he groans softly at your words.

it took everything in logan not to kiss you right here, right now. he wanted you to remember the first time he kissed you.

"je veux être ta copine, logan." you whisper in his ear.

*wanna be your girl, logan.

"¿puedes guardar mi secreto?"

*can you keep my secret?

he never wanted you to stop talking; loving every word that falls from your foreign lips.

it wasn't long until storm, pulls you away hoping she caught you before you said anything you would regret. logan didn't mind, too excited to see you in the morning.

₊˚⊹ ʚɞ

when you woke up, your head was pounding. nothing worse than a wine hangover. you couldn't remember anything after jean poured you a third glass of wine. you took two aspirins and laid in bed for an extra hour before you finally made it downstairs for breakfast.

logan smelled your lavender scented shampoo the second you stepped out of your room. he had been downstairs waiting for you. everyone had already started their day, off either teaching or training. not him though, he had different plans for his day.

"morning." logan said to you as you walked into the kitchen. your heart fluttered, he could hear it.

"good morning." you reply meekly as you grab a plate and some utensils.

he sips on his plain black coffee while you place two waffles and some fruit onto your plate. theres a small stack of books next to logan on the table but you don't give it a second glance.

"wanna sit?" he asks you.

this was a completely different side of logan compared to the usually grumpy version of him that everyone sees.

"sure."

"did you have fun last night?"

he needed to test the waters on what you remember. by the late arrival to breakfast, logan's guess was not much.

"would you believe me if i said that i can't remember much?" you giggle nervously as you bite into a strawberry. "i was probably being boring in some corner."

you couldn't have been more wrong, logan thinks to himself. the two of you have some small talk for a while, enjoying each others company. this wasn't helping your crush from spreading.

once you cleared your plate and logan finished his coffee, both of you get up to place your dishes into the sink when you noticed the books in logan's hands. one spine read 'beginners guide to french' and the other read 'spanish for dummies'.

in a flash, everything came hurtling back at you full speed. this wasn't yours and logan's first conversation alone together.

"¿Qué pasa cariño?" logan asks, voice filled with desire as he cages you against the sink. his lips ghosted over your own; tempting you beyond your strengths. "je pensais que tu voulais que je te parle ?"

*what's wrong, sweetheart?

*i thought you wanted me to talk to you?

"et merde." you whisper before pulling on the collar of his flannel, smashing his lips into yours.

*fuck it.

the sheer taste of the other drove both of you insane. the mix of logan's coffee and tobacco contrasting with your sweet syrup and fruity taste was intoxicating. you pull back, needing to catch your breath. logan's lips moved south, sucking a dark purple bruise on your pulse point.

"better than i imaged." logan groans, obsessed with your every being.

"imagine si tu m'avais parlé plus tôt ?" you wink down at him.

*imagine if you had talked to me sooner?

logan chuckles, bending to pick you up. "love that mouth of yours, sweetheart. lets see what other languages it speaks."

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gothushi · 6 months ago

Text

sugar rush

pairing: charlie x f!reader

warnings: overstim, squirting, charlie smokes a cigarette, hurt/comfort if u squint, somno, one creampie

note: my chat with my charlie bot may be sweet and cute, but this idea is far from it:p took the opening from said bot as well! no outright reader descriptions other than ur shorter, and portrayed as a bit cutesy. reader also has chronic migraines bc i said so. also proofreading this at 3am.. sorry for any mistakes.

word count: 8.3k

———————♡

A shitty day. That’s what he’s had.

Charlie toes off his boots, rough hands pulling his coat off to hang it up, an annoyed huff leaving his lips. Moving into the kitchen, he finds you, his sweet little wife, a little apron on over your frilly outfit and a bowl of batter being mixed up before you.

He’s so tired, pissed, dried blood splattering his sweater, jeans, even his hands which he reveals by pulling his gloves off. Even his hair is a bit out of place, jaw clenched with a sigh coming through his nose.

“Hi!” Ever so happy to just see him coming home safe, you turn to glance at him. You have to do a double take, noting the blood all over him and frown, “Oh please don’t get anythin’ on the floor. I just mopped earlier.”

The oven beeps as it’s done preheating, turning back to pour the batter into a muffin tin, cupcake liners in the slots.

“Don’t be an annoyance,” his voice is rougher than he means for it to be. He knows he has no reason to have an attitude with you. Saying no apologies though, he pulls a cigarette from the pack in his hand as he empties his pockets onto the counter. Shoving it between his lips, he lights it inside and waits for your complaints. “..had a day,” he mutters.

“I don’t care how much of a day you’ve had, go over by the doors!” You complain with a sweet whine, waving a hand in the direction of the glass sliding doors across the living room that leads to the big backyard. You begin undoing your apron after setting the dirtied bowl in the sink.

“You really are a little thorn in my ass, aren’t you.” There’s no real bite to his words, following your instructions to head to the door to smoke, sliding one open as the cool night air filters in.

Leaning against the doorframe and closing his eyes, he sighs through his nose before inhaling, cigarette end fuming red before dispersing as he exhales the smoke. Once the timer is set, you shuffle over, frilly socks sliding along the wood floor. You lay a hand on his upper arm, getting on your tip toes to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“They’re your fav’rite. Strawberry cheesecake.” You smile a little. He can smell your perfume, a sweet scent, mixed up with the muffin batter.

This is his favorite part of the day - coming home to you. Charlie wraps an arm around your waist loosely, his thumb rubbing softly at the hem of your shirt, admiring your cuteness. He glances down, cigarette held between a couple fingers, “Do me a favor, love?”

You’d really like to fuss over the blood on his clothes, not ever wanting anywhere near the stuff when he’s all dirty in it, but decide it isn’t the time. “Mm. What?”

He chuckles at the little attempt you make to get closer, leaning up on your toes. Flicking some ashes outside, he tilts his head, his hand on your waist sliding down over the pleats of your skirt. “Be a darling and go fetch me a glass of whiskey, no ice.”

Smiling, you lean up on your toes again to steal another kiss, on the lips this time. “Okay.” One more against the corner of his lips for good measure, before you head off to the kitchen. Only a moment later do you come back, his request in hand, offering it to him. “Here y’go.”

He’d hum in approval as you kissed him, eyes raking over your body as you walk away. Thankful to have some affection after his shitty day. His hand finds your waist again, the one holding his cigarette taking the glass. He takes a generous sip, closing his eyes for a moment. He visibly relaxes, shoulders dropping some as he looks back down at you. “How was your day?”

That’s where you seem to falter for just a moment. You shrug, hands held behind your back, “Jus’ cleaned. Mopped, did the laundry, had to run a few errands. I read some too.”

He knows you too well. Charlie sees the signs, now that he’s really looking at you, the twinge of your eyebrows, the slight redness to your eyes. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head and setting the glass down on the small table against the wall by the door. Flicking his cigarette back outside, ashes falling to the deck, “Go lay down, love,” he mutters, hand sliding up to cup your cheek. No arguing.

You whine, tilting your head into his hand, “‘m okay.. I wanted to heat up your dinner for you.” You tend to fuss and push through a migraine, going and going until your nearly collapse or cry with the pain, often times doing it just because he isn’t home to stop you.

“No you aren’t, love.” He tsks again, leaning down some more, “You need to rest.” His tone is scolding, “I’ll heat it up myself. But I want you upstairs with a cold cloth over your pretty eyes, okay?”

“But.. I missed you.” You mumble, leaning a bit closer. Just the fact that you get near his bloodstained clothes is a testament to how much you’re craving his presence.

That tugs at his heartstrings, and his heart nearly melts into a puddle. His hand slides around to the small of your back, smiling, “I missed you too, doll,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “but it kills me more to know you’re in pain. So go lay down, yeah?”

Pouting a little, you peek up at him through your lashes. Sighing through your nose, you nod, “There’s a plate made f’you in the fridge. ‘Nd the muffins have to be taken out in fifteen minutes.” You hesitate before leaning your chin on his chest, even over the dried blood, “Come up after you’ve ate? I can run y’a bath…”

Charlie nods as he listens to your info. He can wash off the blood, get clean, snuggle up in bed with you. The last part has him chuckling, nodding, “A bath sounds lovely. Go lay down, my sweet.” He’ll give you one last squeeze before releasing you. There better be a cold washcloth on your head when he gets upstairs.

Listening with no more arguments, you grab some water from the kitchen before heading upstairs. In the bathroom you take a couple of your prescribed pain pills, swallowing them down with a gulp of water and turning the tap on in the tub. Sticking the stopper down, you hold a bottle of bubble bath under the running water and squeeze a little bit out, putting it back in its place on the shelf.

In the bedroom now, you lay down after taking your makeup off, curled up under the covers with a cold, wet washcloth over your forehead and eyes, reclined back into the pillows.

Charlie comes up fifteen minutes later, pushing the door the rest of the way open and smiling at you. There you are, laying prettily under the white comforter. He makes his way over, leaning down to press a small kiss to your lips.

A little noise escapes you, jolting, having almost dozed fully to sleep. Lifting a hand up, you peel the cloth off of one eye, looking up at him. He grins, brow raising a little, his now clean hand coming up to cradle your face. Must have washed most of the blood off in the downstairs bathroom.

“Relax, love. I’m gonna go wash up, okay?” He murmurs softly, giving your cheek a soft pat. A little smile and hum is all he receives whilst his fingers pull the cloth back over your eye.

Once he’s all clean of the grimy sweat and blood, towel wrapped round his waist, you’re fast asleep again, dozing off and on. That’s just adorable. Some water sticks to his skin, mainly dripping from his hair onto his shoulders. He can’t help but pause to admire you for just a moment, before heading to grab a clean pair of boxers. Rubbing the towel over his hair for a moment, he smooths it back and comes to crawl into bed, adjusting himself beside you and being careful not to jostle you in any way.

“Mmm.. smell good.” Well, you did pick out the bubble bath for him. You snuggle into him, keeping your face facing up so the cloth doesn’t slip off, hands hugging the arm he tosses over your front.

Charlie hums in approval, kissing your temple, lips feeling the cold edge of the fabric. His thumb rubs your hip, nosing at your hair to breathe your scent in until his lungs are full. There’s no where else he’d rather be than with you right here - away from his reality of work, no matter how much he enjoys it, in this sweet world of bliss with you.

“My sweet girl,” Charlie whispers.

“Did y’have a muffin? Did they turn out good?” You mumble softly, sounding half asleep. It’s still early for you both, but a nap won’t hurt either of you.

He chuckles, nodding against the side of your head, giving your hip a squeeze, “I had two, love. They were delicious.”

You exhale slowly, relaxing against him and smelling the body wash he used, faint shampoo smell that matches. The soft scent soothes your head, senses fuzzy.

He feels like this is the perfect scene to take advantage of, you being in a sleep, vulnerable state. He’ll have to keep you like this a little longer. His hand slides down to your thigh, giving the plump flesh a squeeze, cheeky smile pulling at his mouth.

“Mmm..” The hum escapes from your throat, shifting closer to him, legs parting naturally from his touch. His fingers slide over the smooth skin there, drawing lazy circles with his pointer. They find the hem of your skirt, reaching up under. He can’t help it, not when he’s got such a cute little thing all to himself.

Another noise, a small hum, tilting your head towards him a bit. “Charlie..” You mumble out his name just ‘cause you can, the touch feels nice. Even despite the consistent throb in your forehead, it feels good.

He loves your little noises so much. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the side of your head with a soft chuckle. His fingers wander up, moving until he finds the lacey waistband of your panties, soft as a little cloud under his touches.

Sighing through your nose, you tilt up some, “Mm.. be gentle..”

He gives a noise himself in acknowledgment to your request, head tilting to press a kiss to your temple. Gentle as ever, his fingers slip under the waistband. Pad of his middle finger finds already slick skin, his thumb rubbing over the lower half of your navel.

Gasping as he feels over your entrance, already aroused, your thighs part some more. The cotton fabric stretches over his knuckles, bruised, soft on his skin, “Mmmm..”

Another approving hum from him. His lips find your cheek as his fingers spread you, middle on swiping through slick to bring it up to your clit, moving in slow circles. He groans himself, kissing at the shell of your ear as he brings his other arm to fold under your head, a makeshift pillow.

“You’re doin’ good,” he whispers, “you’re so good.”

You whine again at the praise, tensing a little, pushing your head back into his arm and your hips up into his touch. Your own hands wander, trying to paw at him, his arm, wherever you can grab. “Charlie..”

He can’t help but love the way his name sounds out of those sweet lips. His head tilts, kissing the side of your face. Your fingers grab at his arm, his bicep. “Mmm,” he groans as you roll your hips down. Now two fingers, they swipe up more wetness, easing the way on your clit in tiny circular motions, “There we go. Just like that, sweetheart.”

Your head turns, wanting a kiss, mouthing at his cheek when you find it blindly. Painted nails dig into his bicep, just holding on, thighs spreading and helping your hips move as he plays with your pussy. More slick drools from you, soaking the fabric of your panties. Even the cloth over your eyes helps to make it feel more intense, as if you were blindfolded.

Charlies tongue darts out to lick his lips, dark eyes watching you yearn for a kiss but he won’t give it to you, keeping himself out of reach with a taunting smile on his lips. He wants to savor this moment like fine wine. “No no, love. Stay still,” he scolds you softly. His fingers slide down, more slick, back up to your swelling clit with quicker movements.

“Charlie-” Your breathing hitches, brows furrowing up in pleasure, knees bending a bit. There we go. He slides his fingers down, middle one rubbing a circle around your entrance, groaning at how wet you are, how hot.

“There we go, sweetheart. That feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Ah-.. yeah- yeah..” You’re gasping, lips parting. “Thank you,” you whine, still trying to lean up for a kiss, one hand pushing at the covers over you both.

He laughs again, loving to tease you as he tilts his head back out of reach again. That finger will press firmly against your entrance, then slide in slowly, stretching you out a little, “You’re gonna keep being good for me, aren’t you?”

Your jaw drops at the touch in a silent gasp, tensing up a little, accepting the breach. “Charlie!” You whimper, nodding even though you can’t see him, “Yes! Yes.”

He buries his face against your shoulder, watching what he can see of your pretty features, kissing at the exposed skin of your collarbone. His breath is hot and heavy, leaning up by your ear, pressing in to the knuckle. “There you go, feels sooo good..”

He goes slow to ease you into the sensation as you squirm, wiggling down onto that single finger. Your own fingers tighten on his bicep, lightly scratching. It feels so good, you’re so sensitive, pent up, easily pleasured.

He can’t resist another laugh at your writhing, shushing you, “Shh, just relax. Let me take care of you.”

That finger keeps pressing in and out, in and out, curling up on the in rhythmically until he slowly presses a second one along the first, slick covering his fingers and smearing against your panties. He curls them again, going deeper and deeper to find that sweet little spot.

The stretch has you whimpering, and he knows he’s found that spot when you jolt and cry out, trying to lean against him, “There-”

“There?”

He abuses the spot automatically, lips kissing at the underside of your jaw, giving a light suck.

You sound like you’re actually crying, panting softly as whimpers spill from your mouth with every rushed exhale. “Charlie-.. Charlie.” You can feel the embarrassing mess in your underwear, can hear the slick noises of his fingers fucking into you, face flushing. Your nails dig into his arm, leaving crescents at one hand drops down to grab at his wrist.

His teeth scrape over your skin. He knows you so well, knows what your sounds mean and can tell how close you are. “Mmm, that’s my girl. My good girl.”

He groans at the thought of seeing the mess all over your pussy, panties stained with slick and cum. His mouth sucks at another spot, sighing through his nose.

The heel of his palm keeps bumping against your clit, oh so sensitive, making your hips buck into the feeling. Huffing out a whiny moan, tossing your head to the side, the cold washcloth starts to slip off your head. Arching up, your legs squirm, “Charlie-! Feels- oh-”

You’re just adorable when you moan like that, writhing under his touches. He gives another groan. He wants to hear more, he’s addicted to your little whimpers and whines. “You gonna cum?”

His fingers pick up the pace a little, in and out, curling, massaging that spot whilst grinding the heel of his palm over your sticky clit. Your thighs clench together before spreading again, eyes rolling into the back of your skull with a soft cry, “Yeah- mhmm!”

“Shh,” he soothes softly, using the pressure of his forearm to try and ease you flat to the bed, halting your writhing. His head rests against your shoulder, watching, feeling. He’s never going to stop being addicted. Addicted to your body, your moans, your soft skin, your sweet pussy.

“Almost there, aren’t you?”

A few more bumps with his palm against your clit and you’re crying, real tears dripping down your temples into your hairline. Tilting your face towards him, gasping, nodding with a whiny noise. “Ye-ah! Yeah, g’na.. Charlie..” You’re pawing at his arm with both hands, leaving little red marks from your nails, watery eyes looking into his.

He’s so, so close to seeing you fall apart. The way your body responds to everything he does drives him mad, your back arching, head tilting. He loves the way your moans get higher and whinier, sweet noises until you’re sobbing.

“That’s my sweet girl,” he groans, grinning, nodding his head as he presses his palm down onto your clit more, fingers massaging that sweet spot in you. “You’re allowed to let go.”

You’re right there, so close, muscles tensing as the coil wounds up tighter and tiger, “Charlie- Charlie.. ‘m.. mmm! Can- please can I-“ You can’t even properly string words together, pleading.

Oh, he knows just what to do. He kisses the side of your mouth, giving you permission. “Cum for me, love,” he whispers hotly, almost gasping himself, “can’t you feel how close you are to the edge? You’re right there. Let go and I’ll catch you.”

You crumble into tears, crying out as a powerful orgasm crashes over you. Clenching tightly on his two fingers, being fucked through it slowly, he coos. Your legs writhe around, little moans escaping you as you pant. Your heart hammers in your chest, whimpering out little babbles that sound like his name. He just lives for the sound of your moans, continuing his movements albeit a bit slower, fingers soaked in your cum. He’s grinning against your ear, eager to hear more cries and sniffles from you.

Your hands are quickly grabbing at his wrist, hiking up your skirt further and you whimper and whine, “Charlie! Charlie, Charlie-” Your hips wriggle around and the pleasure turns into oversensitivity, aftershocks rolling through you like thunder.

Overstimulation gives him such a high, knowing it’s coming from the pleasure he’s inflicting. He gives a deep, pleased hum as you give another sweet cry, still rubbing against your swollen clit, wanting to hear his name again, “There we go.. ride it out.”

Charlie is relentless at you gasp and cry, nails scratching, leaving red marks in their wake. Whimpering again, you twist on your side towards him a little, legs like jelly. “Sto-ah! Stop, no more, sens-sensitive!”

He feels you struggle against his hand, humming lowly, “Mm mm..” His hand finally slows down more, fingers slipping from your hole and swiping up some cum. He presses a kiss to the side of your head, “So sweet and good for me. So good. Such a good girl.”

Panting hard, your thighs squeeze together, fabric of your panties sticky as you try to shield yourself from any more stimulation, whining. Charlie moans as he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking your cum right off the digits. Hugging his bicep, you whimper, “Mm… hnng-..”

He groans at the taste of you, cleaning his fingers, “Sweetheart.. you taste amazing,” he mutters, giving you a little nuzzle against the side of your head, kissing your hair.

Whimpering softly again, your eyes flutter closed for a moment as you just breathe. Honestly.. your migraine feels better than it did before. You bring a hand up to wipe your tears, sniffling. He tugs you closer to his chest, a hand gently brushing hair from your eyes with the tenderest of touches, leaning down and kissing the salty tears away.

“Hey..” he murmurs, cooing, nuzzling down into the crook of your neck to press kisses to your skin, “You okay?”

“Mmm.. mhmm..” You nod, breathless, peeking down at him with lidded eyes, flushed, “Head.. feels better.” It comes out giggled, softly.

That’s what he was hoping to hear, elated. Always happy to hear his trick has done its job, he tilts up to kiss the tip of your nose, “See? That’s all y’needed, hmm?”

“Mhmm..” You’re giggling again, “‘m all sticky..” Your tone is complaining now, whiny.

Ah. Yeah. He should probably take care of that. He chuckles quietly, groaning as you nuzzle into his bare chest, “Poor girl.. let me clean you up. Can you lift your hips for me, love?”

“Mhmm.. yeah.” You’re all satisfied, sleepy, easily complying to his words.

Charlie nods, getting up on his knees and tugging your panties off your body. Tossed aside, his dark eyes greedily scan the mess of your pussy, shiny with cum and slick. There’s something so pleasing about seeing the mess left of you.

“So pretty like this, love.” He mutters, leaning down to suckle at a spot in your inner thigh.

“Charlie..” You’re whining again, a hand tangling into his damp hair. A thin layer of sweat coats your back and chest.

The way you whine in that sweet, sweet tone, hand in his hair, has him shuddering. His head dips lower, tongue sticking out and sliding over the mess he made of you, licking along the length of your pussy. He groans, eyes fluttering as his tongue flattens over your clit.

“Ah! Charlie!” You squeal, tightening the hold on his hair as your legs jerk and writhe around.

He groans again at the sound, the noise vibrating against you and making the overstimulation worse. His eyes fall shut as he continues, continuing to lick over your pussy, greedily taking in the mess of cum. His hands wrap under your thighs, holding onto the outsides of them to keep you still, as still as he can have you with how much you wriggle about.

You’re still fighting it though, whining. Your back arches and you’re sniffling, “Charlie- I can’t- can’t, feels so good!” The words are babbled, gasped.

That sweet voice. You just sound so cute with that breathy tone, your body squirming and writhing, twisting in the sheets. His tongue keeps flicking, teasing, tasting.

He knows he’s doing a good job with how you protest, knows he’s doing his job right. His hot tongue swipes over your clit, lips encapsulating as he suckles. You’re squealing out another cry, a heaved sob escaping you. You try to curl in on yourself, shaking, thighs pressing against his hold, trying to draw your knees up. “Charlie! I ca- mmm! I can’t, ‘m too sensitive- sensitive!”

He keeps his pace, fingertips digging into your plush skin, tongue swirling around your clit and flattening again, head bobbing up and down. The taste is just addictive. He finally pulls away for a moment, giving a breath of cool air against the swollen bud.

“Just a little more, love. You can do it, I know you can,” he dives back in, humming.

“Charlie,” You outright sob as his mouth meets your pussy again, slobbering all over and then licking the mess back up, sniffling and whining. Your hand leaves his hair, grabbing at the sheets beside you, sweat beading on your back as your eyes roll into your skull.

You sound so beautiful like this, he can’t get enough. So sweet, so soft and sensitive, all for him.

Your body twists onto your side, head burying into your pillow as you cry again. He manhandles your one leg up over his shoulder, hand finding your ass to keep you up. So good, so perfect. “Please,” he groans a little, mumbled against your clit between panting breaths, “love, c’mon..”

You actually hook one of your hands on the back of your thigh, as if trying to help keep yourself up to be tortured by his tongue. “Charlie! Fff- fingers, please!”

There we go. He pulls back enough to speak clearly, his other hand on your thigh reaching over to swipe his fingers over your clit, thumb rubbing down over your clenching hole, empty, desperate, “What do you need, honey?”

Twitching, you bring your face from the pillow and sniffle. “Fingers.. Please.. ‘nd your tongue again..” Your chest heaves with heavy breaths, skirt hiking up over your tummy, shirt twisted a bit from all your squirming.

You’re just so perfect, aren’t you? Crying out, babbling, begging for his touch. Such a pretty mess he’s left you. He grins, lips shiny with spit and cum. “Anything for my sweet girl,” he whispers, giving a chaste kiss to your clit, “how many fingers do you want?”

Whimpering, almost delirious. You never could handle multiple climaxes, especially not after so soon. “Mm.. mmmph.. two.. Please Charlie..”

Two? He couldn’t possibly say no to you. He gives another growly moan, head tilting to nip at your thigh as his hand slides from around your thigh, fingers already slick again as he rubs over your entrance. You’re throbbing, feeling your clit actually twitch with the stimulation, pussy clenching around nothing.

“You want my tongue again too?”

“Hnnng- both. Please.” You’re nodding eagerly, not even sure you can really handle it but you want it. Eyes lidded, unfocused, chest heaving with panting breaths.

“Pretty girl..” His fingers slide in, both at the same time, stretching you back out. You breathe deeply, gasping stuttered inhales, sniffling and whining. You want this so bad.. just one more.

“Mmmmph!”

Those fingers curl, finding that abused spot again, “So good.. perfect little girl..” His tongue darts out, giving little laps between his words before suckling on your clit again. “You’re doing so good, honey, that’s my good girl.”

You’re all sweaty, whining high in your throat like a wounded puppy, trembling all over. “Please- hard- harder, faster.. wan’ it.” You beg. You want to be overwhelmed, to be forced to take it.

That whine. He could listen to it on loop for hours. His tongue pulls away, leaving just his fingers fucking into you, pumping in and out harder, a bit quicker. “Is this what you want, doll?”

You’re squealing another cry, shaking all over as you muffle your noises into the pillow, hips grinding down into the touch, “Yes! Oh my God yes.”

He’s never seen anything better than this. Groaning praise against your clit, he goes back to licking and sucking, making out with your pussy as he curls his fingers up. He could keep you like this all day if your pretty body wasn’t so sensitive, make you cum over and over and over.

Not even fifteen seconds pass by before you’re whimpering again, gasping, muscles tensing up, babbling, “Charlie- wait I- nngh! Feels- funny.” Oh good God, he can’t stop now.

You’re right on the edge, coil tightening further, and his fingers are relentless as they fuck into you faster, abusing that little spot.

“You’re nearly there, c’mon, give me it. Just take it honey.”

“No- I feel-!” You’re whining, choppy and panicked. His lips press harder, sucking on your clit like a damn lollipop, noises vibrating against you, making you gasp with a loud sobbing noise. Another orgasm rattles through you, ripping you apart as your release squirts out of you. Heaving a cried sob, your feet kick and your thighs squeeze his head.

He pulls his mouth away, eyes shining with lust as he actually laughs, watching as you gush around his fingers, clamping down like a vice on him, “Oh- oh,” this is new.

It’s a gorgeous sight, watching you lose control of your body. He crawls up over you before you even notice, fingers suck clean as his non wet hand to smooth your hair from your face, easing you onto your back again. You’re flushed with heat, whimpering, pawing at him for comfort from the intense orgasm. That was the first time you’ve squirted, ever.

You’re just so damn cute, all needy, pining for him, “Look at you, doll..” he whispers, kissing your forehead, “So good for me..” He tilts his head down, nose nudging into yours affectionately, “You’ve never done that for me before, huh?”

“Done.. wha’?” You mumble, panting, thighs feeling like lead as your lidded eyes look up at him.

He cups your jaw, smiling, pressing another kiss to your forehead, “Tchh.. don’t worry your pretty little head about it, sweetheart. Just rest, I bet you’re tired.”

It’s adorable, really, how breathless you are, dazed, cum drunk. He takes a moment to go to the bathroom and wash his hands, grabbing a towel and wetting it.

He’s got quite the mess to clean up. He strips your skirt and shirt off, discarding all dirty clothes into the hamper before wiping away the mess you’ve made, all over his chest and your own thighs, cum drooling from your hole. He slips from fresh panties up your legs, one of his own t-shirts on you as he lifts you up and puts you on the other side of the bed. The sheets can wait until morning.

You feel him behind you, cuddling you as you’re curled on your side. His lips plant a soft kiss to your shoulder, humming in content as he relaxes.

But he’s so fucking hard though. His cock has been leaking in his boxers since your tears begun, surprised he didn’t cum on the spot when you squirted. Your hand reaches back, pawing, palming over the obvious bulge.

Charlie’s breath catches, chuckling softly. He knows you’re tired, catching your wrist with his pulling it up to his lips to kiss against your knuckles, “C’mon now, sweetheart. You’re worn out.. don’t worry about me.”

You twist a little, peeking at him, eyes sleepy. “Mmm.. wan’ y’to feel good too..” You slide your hand right back down over him, giving his cock a squeeze over the fabric of his boxers.

Another huffed laugh, shaking his head even as his eyes flutter. “You always want to make me feel good, just get some rest, huh doll?”

“Please.. even if y’do it yourself..” You use the puppy eyes on him, eyes shiny.

God he can’t resist you. “You sure, love?” His hand slides over your forearm, thumb rubbing.

You’re pushing your ass back, twisting back to lay halfway on your front with a knee drawing up, “Mhmmm.. yes please.”

You giggle all drowsy and he can’t say no at all. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

His hips rolling forward, even through the fabric of your underwear he feels so good, grinding against your ass with a sigh. His hand leaves your arm as you turn back, finding the side of your thigh, pulling you back against him firmly. You’re humming out softly, content, leaning further back. You know just how to drive him crazy. He’s huffing, small noises as his brows furrow, wishing he could just take his cock out and slide inside you, but he won’t torture you anymore with pleasure.

“Please.. wan’ you to.. take what y’need..” You’re pleading so sweet, so considerate. You’re always so caring towards him in every way, how could he deny any request you have?

He groans into your hair, eyes closed, panting. “You’re too good to me, doll…” He presses his cock against you harder, as if some horny teenager humping his pillow, leg hooking over your stretched out one.

Your back is arching, aiding the process as he ruts against you. “Mmm.. love you..”

That tired whine, it’s too much. So endearing, so sweet, he can’t help but be so close to cumming already. He nuzzles into your hair, moaning low in his throat. It’s so unbelievably hot, the fact that you’re just about asleep as he grinds against your plump ass, hand grabbing at you. It feels so sinful, he sighs into your hair with a whiny tone, fingertips digging into your skin.

His cock throbs as he moves, stomach tensing, and then he hears you plead, “Please.. cum.”

He gives another groan, biting down at your shoulder as his hips jerk down harder, an orgasm flowing over him as he makes a mess in his boxers, huffing panting breaths. Even after cumming and squirting, a dull throb of arousal floods your senses with the noises he makes.

He comes down easily, satisfied, kissing at the side of your neck as a thank you, “You’re perfect, love.” His hand roams over your bare thigh, massaging lightly. A breathless giggle leaves you, so sleepy, ready for a nap. You don’t even notice he leaves the bed to change, grumbling about the mess before climbing back in behind you, because you’re already asleep.

—

Hours later, the clock reads 12:14AM as you stir awake. Charlie’s arm is draped over you, cuddled into your back. He mumbles something quiet with your movement as you peek back at him, sleepy, bedtime now ruined from the nap you both took.

You turn around in his arms, facing him, admiring his handsome features. The scar on his forehead is prominent, from some accident whilst working that he didn’t detail on. His hair is swept back, soft, clean. Your hand nudges a little, leaning him onto his back, checking that he’s still asleep.

He is, laid back in the dim light of the streetlight outside the window. Still out cold, he breathes in deep. You sit up on your knees and then stretch your arms above your head, hearing something crack in your upper back with a sigh. There’s a soreness in your legs, a reminder of what happened earlier. Tucking hair behind your ears, you lean down and kiss at his stomach lightly, one hand finding his hip.

Charlie gives a sleepy grumble, though he stays dozed off. Even just having a reaction from him this way makes heat curl into your gut. You kiss down lower, finding the waistband of his boxers. You fear it might wake him up if you tug them off his legs, so your hand finds the opening in them and tug his cock out, kissing open mouthed at his navel.

His cock twitches, breath stuttering slightly as your fingers curl around his shaft, massaging lightly to get him hard. It doesn’t take much, his body responds so well just as yours does to his. You let spit drip from your mouth, slicking his cock up as your hands squeezes and moves up and down, slow. Your lips find his bare thigh, kissing and suckling to leave a mark. You want to take your time, careful to try and not wake him up right away.

His cock throbs against your hand, hardening rapidly with the slow touches. It’s obvious he’s starting to get worked up, shifting against the sheets a little, head turning to one side. You move up now, tongue lolling out to lick at the underside of his cock before sinking your mouth down, suckling at him.

Now he’s definitely squirming, hips shifting as he sighs in his sleep, “Hnnng..” he moans, eyes fluttering as his arm moves up by his head. Sucking slow, up and down halfway, you whine a little yourself just at the feeling. You force yourself down as far as you can go without gagging, tongue flat on his underside. Spit drools down to his balls, aiding the way as you suck him off.

He groans, rousing from sleep, tilting his head back against the pillows. His hand comes up to your head, no pressure, just tangling through your hair lightly, petting you.

You hum at the touch, the sound vibrating down his cock, senses fuzzy. You suckle at the head, making a mess of spit as you sink back down again, managing about halfway. You’re flushed with heat, knelt between his legs, back arched and ass high in the air.

“Swe-.. sweetheart.” He groans out, clutching harder at your hair. “Doll… mm- ah-” His voice cuts off as you sink down further, arching up into the touch as his thighs part a little. There’s a soft whine in his throat, barely coherent. “So good..”

Even though you should be absolutely exhausted from the orgasms he pulled from you hours prior, the noises he makes sends arousal shooting up your spine. Sucking harder, you relax your jaw with a whine, eyes fluttering. He’s groaning again, breath coming faster as you work over his cock, all messy and eager.

“Hey..” he rasps, gasping, “Slow down, love.. feels good..”

Obedient, you listen to what he says, slowing down your pace and relaxing some. Hair falls in your face, one hand tucking it back behind your ear, whining softly, noise muffled. You pant through your nose as you push down.. down… down.

The pace is torturously slow, but just the act of you listening to him has him shuddering. His hand tightens in your hair, gasping as he tilts his head down some to look at you. He gives a light tug on your hair, “Hnng- look at me,”

Obeying again, eyes watery from the intrusion near your throat, you peek up at him through your lashes. You gag with a little whimper, drool dripping from your mouth, hands clenching on his hips.

Seeing those pretty eyes looking up at him, it’s enough to force a moan out of him again. You whine again as you force yourself to endure the intrusion, He whines softly, brows furrowing up as color blooms over his cheekbones, breath hitching, “Look at- mm, y’don’t need to push.. that far love.”

You’re ignoring him though, determined, eyes fluttering as you go lower, slowly. Spit dribbles down his cock, wetting the fabric of his boxers. Another nudge as your nose is pressed into the fabric of his underwear, exhaling with a muffled, sighed whine, looking up at him again.

“Ah-” He gasps, body arching as he shifts against the bed. “Sweetheart..” His tone is thick with sleep, heavy with lust, “Please, need you up here.”

Whining, your expression turns as if you were the one being pleasured. You don’t want to stop though, you wanna keep going, make him feel good, protesting softly as your hands flatten on his hips, suckling again as you gag.

He groans again, eyes rolling back as he huffs, “God.. doll.. I need you.” He grabs your hair tighter, giving a slight tug, “Up.”

A whimper escapes you, roots being pulled at and being forced off his cock. You’re so desperate though, tongue laving over his length before you’re pulled away, a thin line of drool hung from your tongue. Hair being held like a cat grabbed by their scruff, lips parted to pant hoarsely.

He sits up with a slight groan, tugging you up as you crawl over his body. His lips crash against yours in a searing kiss, fingers tight in your hair as his tongue licks over yours. Whining a moan, the kiss deep and desperate, heated as you even struggle to kiss back properly, all messy with drool, throat hoarse.

The sound you make against his mouth has a shudder running up his spine, moaning himself as he other hand finds your thigh, tugging you up onto his lap. His hand urges you down, grinding against his exposed cock. Your own arousal surprises you, not realizing sucking him off turned you on that much even though it happens just about everytime. That same hand slips between your thighs, hooking into the front of your panties and tugging them to the side, bare pussy grinding on his cock.

You whine another noise, whimpering, “Charlie-!”

The sound of his name on your lips is damn near obscene. “Yes-.. yes,” he whines against you, hand trembling almost as he grabs the base of his cock, grinding up and pressing in finally.

So full, his cock reaches deep, stretches you out with the slightest burn. Whimpering his name again, you nearly fall forward. Another whine comes out of him, hand slipping from your hair to the base of your neck, teeth grazing your jaw.

Both hands now find themselves moving up under your-his shirt, grabbing at your tits as he lays back in bed again, grunting with the effort, “That’s it.. take it.”

You can feel the heat on your face, traveling over your ears and down your neck, hands on his chest for stability as he gropes at your body. Trying to lift up onto your knees proves too much for your sore thighs, dropping back down and opting for grinding back and forth with a whimpered noise. “Nnmgh! Ff-”

Charlie’s own breathing hitches, thumb flicking over one of your hardening nipples as he grins, “Mhmm.. there y’go, take it.”

The gentle praise has you whining, panting, rolling your hips down even if it hurts your overworked legs. His name falls from your lips again, his own breathing labored, “So pretty.. my sweet girl..”

“‘m .. sensitive.. please,” You don’t even know what you’re pleading for, hands flat on his chest, trying to roll forward.

“Shh..” His hands slip down to your thighs, rubbing over them and squeezing the flesh there, “S’okay, let me help.” His fingers dig in, rolling you forward with his own strength.

He’s forcing you to fuck down on him, your eyes falling shut as he jerks his hips up, “Charlie-!” Your knees dig into the bed, stomach tensing up.

“Easy..” He soothes, his own breath shaky. “Don’t push so hard, you’ll wear yourself out doll.”

He moves his hips up and knocks into just the right spot, making you whimper as your arms shake. Knees spreading a bit more, pressing into the bed, “‘m sore.. please help..”

The one little whiny moan of yours has a groan escaping him, breath hitching as he swallows. “You want something, sweetheart? Tell me.”

He rocks up again, knees bending, fingers pressing into your hips with a breathless laugh, “Yeah.. like that.”

“Mhm!” You’re nodding, muscles tensing as you keep yourself up on your knees so he can fuck up into you. A pathetic noise falls from your lips.

“Mine. My pretty girl..” he whispers, panting. He pushes up the hem of the shirt you wear, tossing the fabric aside. You drop to your elbows on either side of his head, whining in his face, gasping for air as his hips move.

“Mm- love when you make those sweet little noises..” His hands pull you up a little, tongue laving over one of your nipples, suckling. You can feel him twitch inside you, grinding up slow.

Whining again, oh so whiny, your hand cards through his hair and holds on tightly, “Mm! Fast-.. faster. Please Charlie.” You plead so nicely for him, skin heated.

He growls out a moan again, “Yes ma’am..” he mutters, before starting to move in earnest now, fucking up into you hard. It pulls a wounded cry from your throat, gasping for air as his lips move up to your neck. You’re getting the life fucked out of you, barely able to keep your eyes open as they roll back, watering, little uh uh uh’s being fucked out of you.

“Fuu-.. ah..” It’s his turn to whine now, breathing labored as he thrusts up into you. His mouth latches under your jaw, sucking a mark into the pretty skin, moaning, “Mmmph.. doll.”

He’s literally using you like a damn toy, gutteral groans of your name as he holds your hips still, fucking into you. The pace becomes messy and quick instantly, lips wandering to your shoulder.

“Charlie!” You cry again, gasping, desperate for air in your lungs. “I’m- ‘m g’na.. oh my God!” Your back arches further, twitching, right on the edge.

“I know.. I know,” he practically whines, panting as he moves. He can hear the slick noise of your pussy sucking him in, drooling down his cock and balls, making a mess of his boxers. “That’s my girl-.. come on..”

A loud cry is muffled against his neck, writhing around, hands grabbing at the pillow under his head, almost smacking against them. Eyes rolling back, you’re overwhelmed with pleasure as you orgasm, jolting ontop of him with your toes curling. “Oh- Charlie! Oh my- oh my Goood-”

He gives his own groan, just the sound of your whines, the feeling of you clamping down on his cock has him ready to cum, fucking up fast. “There you go.. c’mon..” His hands find the small of your back, wrapping around you, holding you close, “Ah-.. where do you-.. love?” He asks, desperate.

You don’t even think, “In.” you sob, “please, Charlie, wan’ it.” Oversensitivity settles in fast, shaking uncontrollably ontop of him, feeling like you’re being shocked with a fucking taser.

That does it for him. He swears he sees stars as he cums, grinding up hard and slow as it spurts inside you, growling a moan. You can feel him throbbing, trembling, held flush to his body. Whimpering, a less powerful orgasm crashes over you, legs shaking as your feet kick down onto the bed, “Charlie!”

A breathless groan leaves his lips, panting, “Fuu-ck.. you feel-” he can’t even finish his words, gasping.

He works you both through your orgasms, you swear you might black out for a moment, whimpering pathetically ontop of him. He gives a little hiss as your hips jolt up off of him, cum drooling out of your hole. “Shh shh.. easy,” his hands rub over your sides, up your back.

Flopping onto his front fully, legs stretching out along his, you whine. Four fucking orgasms within.. how many hours? Honestly a miracle. “Mmm… mmm.”

“Just lay still..” he murmurs, breathless as he strokes over your clammy skin. He turns his head and presses a kiss to your temple, another on your forehead. “Jesus.. think four’s your limit for the night, sweetheart.”

“Mmmmph..” Your lips part to pant, eyes closed, limp onto of his body besides your involuntarily shaking, “New record..” You giggle. Usually you can handle two with.. several hours of recovery between.

He gives a huff of a low laugh, chest heaving. “Yeah.. new record alright.” He sighs out a content noise, humming, “God.. what time is it, love?”

Tilting your head to look at the clock on the wall above your little bookshelf, you hum, “12:30.. guess we shouldn’t have napped.”

“God,” he chuckles, “guess not.” His hands wander down, rubbing over your ass, “You wanna get cleaned up, love?”

“I don’t think I can move.” You mumble, fatigued, worn the fuck out after all that. You legs feel like wet noodles, heart just now beginning to calm down to a normal place.

“Yeah.. thought as much.” He chuckles again, kissing your head once more, “Stay put.” He eases you off of him, getting up from the bed as he tugs his boxers off, using the fabric to roll it up and wipe himself off. “Want anything from the kitchen?”

“Mmmm..” you roll onto your back, stretching out, back arching as you press your knees together. “Water.. couple muffins.” You grin, hands wiping at the drying tears on your face.

Whilst he’s gone, you somehow manage to wobble to the bathroom, cleaning up and using the restroom before crawling right back into bed on the clean side.

He returns a few moments later, carrying a big glass of ice water, three strawberry cheesecake muffins on a little plate, clean t-shirt over his arm and fresh boxers on his body. Must have stopped in the laundry room. ”Sit up.”

Obeying, you sit up against the pillows, reaching out as he gives you the glass. Gulping down a third of it, you set it aside as he slips the shirt over your body, soft and clean. He sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out and cradling your cheek, “There you go.”

You lean into his touch, grinning lazily, skin flush with a pretty glow, “Hi..”

“Hi..” He repeats back, chuckling with a smile. He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, to your nose, then lips, “How’re y’feeling?”

Accepting the affection and kisses, smiling like a happy puppy. “Mm.. ‘m okay.. I love you.”

He grins back, after a few more kisses he pulls back, “I love you, doll.”

Muffin in hand now, you narrow his eyes as he smirks mischievously, “What?”

“Oh, nothin’..” He shakes his head, shrugging as he takes the glass of water and takes some drinks of it. “Just thought a hot bath could be nice..”

That does sound so good, some fresh bedding and a hot bubble bath, maybe a movie after. But you hear the tone in his voice and whine around the bite in your mouth, “Charlie I cannot go again, I think I’ll faint.”

He barks a chuckle at that, reaching an arm around you, “Oh love, I know. I swear, we’d just soak.”

“Mmm.. movie after?”

“Mhm. We’ve got the whole weekend to relax too,” that makes you perk up, peeking up at him.

“Y’don’t have to work?” You mumble hopefully, tilting your head.

“No,” Charlie smiles, shaking his head, “Off call the rest of the weekend. Don’t suppose ya have any ideas for how we could spend that time, do you?” He raises a brow playfully, rubbing your bare thigh.

Swallowing the muffin bite in your mouth, savoring the sweet flavor, you seem to think. A silly little smile forms on your lips, giggling.

“We could try and break your record next.”

———————♡

#charlie the stomach #charlie the stomach x reader

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spicechica · 6 months ago

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NEW DRABBLE IDEA

I'm thinking of doing a drabble with Latino/Spanish reader with one of Neil's characters, but i'm having some trouble deciding. Comment which character would be best, and leave some headcanons if you have any. As a Latina myself, and from Puerto Rico, I would love to write some headcanons.

#neil newbon #spicechica #fanfiction #astarion #fyp #headcanons #neil newbon x reader #writing #latina #drabble #nikolai beyond the rave #luke davenport #ernst robinson #charlie the stomach #captain hook #rob extinction #quinten quist #seb as if #puerto rico

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astarions-bride · 27 days ago

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Not me thinking of Neil Newbon characters as paranormal monsters for Halloween...😗 👉👈

#just ignore me #unless? 👀#neil newbon #astarion #neil newbon x reader #the expedition rob #charlie the stomach #nikolai beyond the rave #ernst robinson #the void rambles

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babygorewhore · 11 days ago

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Home Care

Dr. Charlie Mayhew x fem reader.

Charlie Mayhew has to stay over to make sure his patient stays safe. But he’s unable to contain his desire after learning how men have treated you.

This is written for my love @cxrrodedcoffin I hope you enjoy my darling!!! Thank you so much to @xxbimbobunnyxx for helping me out with this love letter!!!!

Warnings! Obsessive behavior! Slight stalking! Oral! Fem receiving! Finger sucking! Bondage! Spitting! Fingering! Spanking! Degrading! Praise! Unprotected sex! Bulge! Rough (?) sex! Incorrect medical terms because I’m not in that field lol.

“I’m not thrilled about being stuck here with you either.” Charlie told you as you examined your nails.

The Doctor leaned against the wall as he watched you. He was giving your sick grandfather overnight care. He admitted to himself that he used to be an asshole in high school. Making fun of you for going into the family inherited business. A mortician.

Charlie just wanted your attention. He always wanted your eyes on him. That’s why he posted pictures of himself at the gym despite his filled schedule. Being a Doctor gave him the opportunity to save lives. Yet, he couldn’t save himself from his obsession with you.

Your apartment had elements of the Macabre and pieces of the world you honored with work. But you still had a brightness to your smile. It wasn’t innocence, you’d had some experience in the dating world.

You always took care of others. A little angel sent above. You didn’t fully forgive him for the past and he didn’t blame you. He worried he’d scare you off if you saw the darkness in him.

Charlie sometimes followed you home. Just because he had to make sure you were safe. Coming into your bedroom while you slept was taking it a bit far a few weeks ago but he just had to see you. Charlie tried to act as if he didn’t know where anything was when he came in.

Your thighs were exposed, the pajama shorts hugging the curves of your hips and the soft shirt exposed the lower part of your stomach. Charlie swallowed, moistening his dry mouth and neared you. He removed his uniform coat. So he’d look like a normal man.

Your fingers tapped away at your screen, indicating that you were texting someone. Angrily.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned. He half expected you to ignore him but instead you sighed.

“I’m sick of this guy. He treats me like shit. I’m telling him off.”

Charlie’s hackles raised at your answer. “How’s he treating you like shit?”

“Guys only care about getting off and leaving. I put up with it too long. But I was lonely.” You rolled your eyes and he blinked rapidly.

“You mean, he just…fucked you and left?” Charlie bit out the sentence, unable to hide the jealousy and you shrugged. “Did he even make you cum?”

His bold words made you sit up straight but he didn’t take them back. You snorted and set your phone down. You crossed your ankles together.

“Nope. Men just want to stick it in and get theirs.”

Charlie’s jaw clenched and he trembled. He adjusted the stethoscope hanging on his neck. “No. Men don’t. Little boys do.”

You rolled your eyes and applied chapstick. You moved your lips and set it back down. “What would you know about that? If you weren’t in college, you were working. Or being a dick.”

“You think I don’t care about making a girl feel good?” He breathed heavily as you positioned yourself further in the chair. Your hands providing balance in the middle and your fingers spread.

“I mean you’re good at your job. But women? Not so much.” Your blatant disregard and ignorance to his activities made him feel crazy.

“You realize I have a in depth knowledge of the human body. I know where to touch. How much pressure to use and how long.” Charlie tugged his lower lip between his teeth as he reached down. Cupping your chin. His thumb swiped your mouth and you parted them.

You sucked his digit, tongue rolling around and he snapped. Charlie hauled you off the chair, tossing you on the plush mattress.

“All those fucking weeks watching you. Trying to keep myself under control,” He groaned as you parted your legs, letting him settle between them. He felt the dampness in your center on his stomach.

“You were stalking me?” You shrieked but a small smirk curved. Charlie snarled and tapped your cheek.

“Open your mouth.” You did, instinctively letting your tongue slightly stick out and he let drool fall past his lips. “God, you’re already obeying me? Like a good little patient?”

Charlie sat up, taking off his shirt and his muscular form highlighted by the LED lights. You looked up at him with half lidded eyes as he took your hand, bringing your fingers to his mouth. Charlie sucked them softly, letting his other palm knead your chest. You arched your back as your pussy fluttered.

His thighs caged you in and he let go of your hand. Your fingers fell out of his mouth and Charlie unfastened his belt. You inhaled sharply as he tied it around your wrists, pinning them to the headboard of the bed.

“You’re gonna lay there and take it. That sweet little cunt is gonna leak from how good this will feel.”

A sinister darkness flickered in his eyes as you mewled at his words. Charlie tugged off your shorts, thick digits snapping the waistband of your panties and he peeled them off. He admired the lace of the fabric and was mesmerized by the sticky middle.

You were so turned on that it hurt. Charlie shoved his pants down, chuckling at the eager sounds you made. His cock slapped his inner thigh. He lowered himself down, his stomach hitting the bed and cupped your ass.

He smelled your scent, his nose nudging your center and groaned. “Selfish little angel. Keeping this pussy from me. Knowing I won’t be able to get enough.”

Charlie laid his tongue flat against your slit, grunting at the taste and he focused kitten licking your clit. His motions were firm and you whimpered. His hold kept you from moving too much, even laying his forearm across your pelvis. He spread your folds apart, exposing more sensitive areas and plunged his tongue inside your needy hole.

You were on fire, jerking from pleasure and Charlie’s dick throbbed. His other hand drifted to find the discarded panties and wrapped them around his shaft. Lazily pumping because he was solely focused on the pretty girl underneath him.

He sucked your clit, gently nipping it and returned to leisurely slurping like an ice cream cone. The heels of your feet dug into his shoulders and he nodded. “Mmm, needed this didn’t you, baby doll? That why you’re so tense all the time?”

You shuddered as he pressed two fingers in you, hitting an even deeper spot and you were almost hysterical. Charlie wanted to make you cum right then and there but he forced himself to hold off for now. He continued finger fucking you and lifted up. Meeting your lips in a messy kiss, making you share the wetness coating his mouth and chin.

Charlie kissed you hard, making your vision go white and ripped himself away. He growled and took hold of his dick. His red tip running against your clit, smearing the arousal and a sadistic pleasure burned him. He loved seeing you whine and cry.

“You want it? Beg.”

“Please fuck me! Please, please, please!” You cried out and he clicked his tongue in ridicule.

“Oh come on, sweetheart. You can do better. That slutty mouth can beg harder than that.” Charlie laughed as you let out chants similar to a prayer.

He slammed into balls deep and you silently went slack for a few seconds. His size was huge and overwhelming despite the prep. You panted and shook your head.

“It’s not gonna fit all the way-“ You said tightly but Charlie jerked his jaw.

“We’re not playing that game. You wanna play dumb and pretend you don’t like how much it hurts? But I’ll fucking make it fit,” He flipped you over on your knees, twisting your arms so your still tied wrists weren’t straining.

Charlie shoved your chest down, slapping your ass so hard it echoed. He pressed into your pussy again, letting his big hands hold your hips as he thrusted into you.

You sounded fucking filthy. Moaning, sobbing and sweating against the pillow as he railed into you. You curled inwards as your orgasm approached you but he shook his head.

“Where you going?” Charlie spanked you harder and separated your ass. He thrusted deeper and felt your slick dripping on his cock.

“Oh god, fuck! F-fuck!” You exclaimed and wailed. He grabbed the back of your hair, yanking you back and caught your lips.

Charlie sucked your pulse point as you bounced on it, laying your head back as you creamed on his dick.

“Bouncing on my cock like the dirty whore you are. You gonna let me fill you up? You want me to cum in your greedy pussy?” He asked in your ear and you moved faster.

Charlie squeezed your tits and let his hand fall to your stomach. He felt the bulge and spilled inside you. Cum burst in your cunt and your second release hit you. You both grunted and you felt tears streaming down your face.

He saw you weren’t going to slow down and twitched from overstimulation. Charlie pulled out, feeling your fluids fall onto the sheets and brought his face back to your pussy.

“You’re gonna let me eat it out of you, huh? God you’re so disgusting.” He followed his statement with shoving his face against you. You had to bite down on your arm to keep from screaming but he wasn’t happy with that.

“No, no, you wanna scream? Then do it.” Charlie ordered. “Or am I gonna have to fuck it out of you again?”

Tagging: @xxbimbobunnyxx @cxrrodedcoffin @userchai @stillwjk-channie-lixie @fear-is-truth @starkeysprincess @starkeysbabygirl @cameronsprincess @oceanblvd111 @titsout4nicholas @webbluvrsugar @glossyseraphim

#charlie #charlie mayhew x reader #charlie mayhew x y/n #charlie mayhew #Charlie Mayhew smut #father charlie mayhew #father charlie x reader #father charlie smut #father charlie grotesquerie #nicholas alexander chavez #Nicholas Alexander Chavez smut #Nicholas Chavez #grotesquerie #grotesquire smut #dr charlie mayhew #dr Charlie Mayhew smut

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leclerc-hs · 8 months ago

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ex's and oh's - CL16

pairing: ex!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you and your ex-boyfriend are in complicated territory OR your ex fucks you in the drivers seat of his car warnings: 18+, SMUT under the cut, badly translated french (pls correct me), not proofread!!!! word count: 2.4k author's note: ok I just want to sincerely apologize for my long absence on here!!! i know you’ve been waiting for me to finish this for a while now LOL but I've been insanely busy balancing life with two jobs lol. So I'm going to leave this here. I can honestly say it's not my best work and I apologize for that but I really wanted to give y'all something in the mean time. I have a bunch of drafts I plan to work on whenever I get the chance. Love you all!! pls forgive me and don't forget to leave me some comments and thoughts xoxo

THERE WAS NOTHING that could’ve prepared you for this fight. You weren’t drunk, as promised. Although you weren’t sober either.

You and Charles were...complicated. Exes but…. still, something more. You would always be something more. Your history stretched back almost forever, and that alone made it challenging to stay apart from each other.

There was a point in time when the aftermath of your breakup made it impossible for both of you to share the same space. It invariably led to bitter arguments over seemingly trivial matters. One such instance was during a movie night with your group of friends when you showed up in a sweatshirt that was far too big for your body, obvious that it wasn’t your own. Charles simmered with silent resentment in the corner until he could no longer contain it. The memory etched vividly in your mind, recalling the knots in your stomach throughout the night, feeling the intense burn of Charles’ gaze upon you. He didn’t cast a single glance at the movie that evening.

“Who’s fucking sweatshirt is that?”

“Already fucking other people, hm?”

As you slid into the familiar supple leather seats of his Ferrari, you felt the warmth of the car hug you like a blanket, providing much relief from the contrast of the cold air outside. In the process of slipping into his car, your skirt had ridden up higher than Charles would’ve preferred, your panties nearly exposed if it weren’t for the sheer tights providing more coverage. Did you really go out dressed like that? He felt his hands grip the steering wheel tighter than normal as a waft of your perfume enveloped the car.

“Did you have fun?” His tone was neutral, but his body posture was tense. He barely turned his head to check if you placed your seat belt on before peeling out from the curb at a speed much too fast.

Sober you would’ve caught onto his attitude almost immediately. But tipsy you, thought nothing of it.

“Oh Charlie!” You exasperated, the click of your seatbelt filling the car as the radio was turned on the lowest possible volume. “It was so fun!”

He dropped one of his hands from the wheel, bringing his hand to rub the scruff of his unshaven jaw, as a deep sigh falls past his lips. He was annoyed—more than annoyed. The sole fact that you left him unanswered for hours wasn’t his only issue. What had his muscles all tight and the permanent frown on his face was the images of one of your guy friends being way too close to you. Too close for Charles liking. It was the same guy that his friends had briefly mentioned weeks ago on his boat.

“Cha, l’aimes-tu toujours?” Do you still love her? His friends sat around the table; half-eaten food left on their plates. He didn’t answer the question immediately. But everyone knew, subconsciously, that he did.

“Elle et Nick été proches récemment,” Her and Nick have been close lately. The phrase alone made Charles choke on his water. In that moment, he thanked the lord for the sunglasses covering his widened eyes. The burn in his chest began simmering as the conversation continued.

“Oui, ne sont-ils pas partis ensemble l’autre soir?” Yeah, didn’t they leave together the other night?

He couldn’t blame his friends for the discussion. They didn’t know that you two were still in complicated territory. Everyone always figured you two would rekindle, but it’s been so long, no one knew if it would happen anymore.

So, although Charles felt like the air was being sucked out of his lungs, he plastered a big smile on his face while throwing his arm around the back of the chair beside him. “Nick, hm?”

He made a genuine effort to control his anger. Honestly, he really did try. However, as you persisted in discussing the night, particularly when the name ‘Nick’ slipped past your lips, he couldn’t help but lose his composure just a little bit.

His voice took on a lethal edge as he maneuvered the car to the side of the desolate road. The act of driving demanded attention, but his mind was a whirlwind of a million thoughts. He was consumed by anger, it oozed from every pore of his skin as he scoffed and turned to confront you. Your eyes were already fixated on him, and his gaze instantly met yours.

“A-t-il touché à toi?” Did he touch you? His voice rumbled like a low growl, and the green in his eyes was so deep and intense that it masked their actual color, making it nearly impossible to discern the green hue. But you memorized those eyes. His eyes. You were familiar with every nuance of shade that adorned them. His breath was slow and even as he awaited your answer.

The idea drove him insane—the notion of another man laying his hands on you. And even worse, you wanting another man’s hands on you.

For a moment, you found yourself taken aback, only to fully comprehend his tense posture and the sharpness in his tone. Suppressing any inclination to react visibly, you wrestled to maintain a neutral expression, ensuring your lips didn’t betray a hint of a smirk at his jealousy. You didn’t even need to ask who he was.

“Et est-ce que cela aurait de l’importance s’il l’avait fait?” And would it matter if he did?

The fact that you didn’t need to even address who he was talking about, only caused him to spiral further. As if you were confirming that Nick is the only other option.

The car felt increasingly smaller as the anger in Charles grew. His knee was bouncing with impatience as he clenched his jaw. Yes. Yes, it fucking mattered. He wanted to shout until his lungs gave out that it mattered. He began to lose the evenness of his breathing pattern, becoming more erratic as you didn’t answer the question.

“Dis-le-moi et nous le découvrirons,” Tell me and we’ll find out. His eyes traced your every movement as your eyes narrowed at him, a scowl forming on your lips. The lips he dreamed about almost every night.

The silence in the car heightened, and with each passing second, you could feel your heart rate quicken. His gaze remained fixated on your face, unwilling to divert elsewhere. It was as if he were a predator, and you, his prey, captivated under the unrelenting focus of his eyes.

“What? No snarky remarks for me?” C’mon play with me. Although he felt like his chest might crack in two, he needed to mask it. Needed to be nonchalant.

The tension lingered until you took a sharp swallow, the muscles in your neck twitching, that his eyes shifted, descending to the nape of your neck. They fixated on the subtle gleam of your collarbones, still glistening with a thin sheen of sweat from the night’s dancing. His gaze traced the gentle rise and fall of your breasts with each breath. He wanted to devour you whole.

You felt your thighs clench slightly from his pressuring gaze. He is so fucking hot. His hair in complete disarray from running his hands through it. He wore a pair of grey sweats and a black hoodie that made you want to cling your body around him as soon as you saw him.

“Y a-t-il quelque chose entre vous deux?” Is there something between you two? His patience was wearing thin. You still haven’t answered his question, and the silence was eating him alive.

You detected a subtle waver in his tone, prompting a softening in your gaze. Your hand gently reached for his face, and he allowed his head to lean ever so slightly against the palm of your hand. It was as if your touch alone had the power to appease the turmoil of anger and jealousy rising within him.

And as much as you loved to get under his skin like he did yours sometimes. You couldn’t find it in you to provoke him. To cause him any pain. “No.”

The corner of his lips twitched up slightly as your thumb brushed against his jawline. His hands tremble when they reach for you, pulling you out of your seat and across the center console into his lap. “Est-ce que cela aurait de l’importance?” Would it matter? You repeated the question as your legs straddled him. His hands slid around your waist, resting on your backside in a tight grip, so you couldn’t move.

His mouth formed into a hardened line, as if he forced it to show you just how serious he was when he answered. “Bien sûr que cela a de l’importance,” Of course it matters.

“Porquoi?” Why?

“Why?” He repeats your question. Scoffing at the fact that you even had to ask him. As if you didn’t already know why.

You suck in a sharp breath as soon as his warm tongue meets with the nape of your neck, trailing hot and wet kisses up until his lips meet yours for a moment before pulling away.

“Mon coeur t’appartient.” My heart is yours. There was no questioning in his words. “Il a toujours été tien.” It’s always been yours. As those words hung in the air, your breath caught. You love this man. You love this man with every fiber of your being.

His fingers gripped onto your thighs with an almost bruising intensity, as if he needed to confirm your presence by feeling you in his hands, ensuring you weren’t a figment of his imagination. His nails traced along the thin fabric at the apex of your thigh, before digging them in and tearing them open instantly. You let out an audible moan as his fingers found immediate solace to the damp spot on your underwear. Of course, you were already wet just by looking at him.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me? He questioned, adding slight pressure to your cotton covered clit.

You moaned in delight at the contact but did not answer his question. It drove him mad.

His fingers slipped past your underwear, shoving them to the side, and slipping his fingers into your heated core. His fingers curled, hitting the spot you needed him most just right. Your back arched, barely grazing the horn of the steering wheel. Your hands were frantic, reaching for the waistband of his grey sweats as Charles lifted in hips off his seat to help you.

“Oh fuck,” You moaned out loud. The pace of Charles’ fingers had you careening forward with a cry, before he pulled them out of you completely, leaving you shouting “No!”.

“Relax cherie,” He clicked his tongue before pulling your chest flush with his, raising you up an inch to slide his cock right into you. He groaned as your pussy clenched tightly around him, squeezing him so tight he could barely focus on anything else. He held you down against him, letting neither of you move.

It wasn’t until you fully sat, completely full of him, that he rips the buttons of your shirt open, revealing a lacy ensemble across your chest. He traces the tip of his finger along cup of your breast and says, “Did you wear this on purpose, hm?”

You shook your head, wiggling your hips with a groan. You needed to move, needed to feel the force of his cock into you, but he wouldn’t let you. He just held your hips down as if he was waiting for something.

"You feel so good," He groans. "Squeezing me so tight."

“Cha, please.” You begged, getting agitated at the lack of movement.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me? He repeats again. A grin stretched across his features at your obvious struggle. The fact that you needed his cock this badly, had him only growing harder.

You bit your lip as Charles’ fingers sprawled across your neck in a tight grip, pulling your face to his. Close enough that your noses were touching.

“Réponds, et je suis tout à toi.” Answer, and I’m all yours.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me?

You don’t know what held you back from answering before. Because you did. He knew you did. He just needed to hear the words from your lips. Needed the reassurance that this was more than a quick fuck to you.

“Oui!” Yes! You half-shouted, eyes blown wide with need. “I will always love you!”

His hand released your hips, giving you the immediate go-ahead. You wasted no time, working yourself over his cock, moans eliciting from the both of you almost instantly. His hands slid to cup your ass, controlling your movements as he urges you to move faster.

“Mon dieu,” Charles groaned, his fingers dipping into the cup of your lacy ensemble, rolling your nipples between his index finger and thumb. “Je t’aime,” I love you.

The mere utterance of those words had you instinctively squeezing his cock with an intensified fervor, bringing you perilously close to the brink of ecstasy. A sly smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the effect his declaration had on you.

You moved your hips faster, the bounce of your breasts had Charles in a trance before he brought his eyes back to your face, looking you deep in the eyes. “Je t’aime,” He muttered again, bringing his lips to your mouth, swallowing your moans as if they were the oxygen he needed to breathe. “C’mon, give it to me.” He begged, thrusting his hips upward into you as much as he could, eyes rolling to the back of his head until you both reach that point of ecstasy you both needed.

His face was bright red, cheeks flushed, as you worked yourself over him in a hurried pace. His sweatshirt no doubt, making him feel like a furnace, as sweat forms near his eyebrow. His eyes were wild, unsure where to look until they met with your eyes. His cock twitching inside of you from the clench of your pussy on him, and the gaze of your eyes.

“Je t’aime!” You shouted, releasing all over him and falling forward in exhaustion onto Charles chest.

Charles groaned hotly into your ear, his release catching him completely off guard due to the words you uttered. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest as you rested against it.

“Mon Coeur est à toi.” My heart is yours. His fingers caressed the ends of your hair behind your back. The both of you made no attempts to move.

“Mon Coeur est à toi.” My heart is yours. You repeat back to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc angst #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x you #cl16 x reader

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