#Nicholas (OC)

[we-are-all-of-legend-now]

Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince, Ch. 16: What's Good For Me

Fandom: American Dragon: Jake Long

Summary: When Jake's girlfriend spills the truth about her missing twin sister, Jake vows to help her find her sister, but the world that it plunges them both into a new world, one that their teenaged eyes had been closed to. It leaves everyone involved on a journey to self-discovery, wondering if they are the person they should be or if they should become the person they were meant to be.

Rating: M

Genre: Romance/Family

Characters/Pairings: Jake/OC; Jake/Danika; Rose/Brad; Jake/Rose (endgame); OC / OC; Spud/Stacey; Spud/Trixie; Nigel/Rose; Kyle/Trixie; Everyone/Everyone

Chapter: 15/?

New Chapter

Chapters 1-10

Chapter One; Chapter Two; Chapter Three; Chapter Four; Chapter Five; Chapter Six; Chapter Seven; Chapter Eight; Chapter Nine; Chapter Ten

Chapters 11-20

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

[dreamberry24]

Math sketches :)

[3ic95id864pg]

Trigun genderswap [Twitter:@teteomom]

[jukeloxing]

Guy that accidentally summons a demon gets the worst roommate ever, a new little series I'm working on!

[noirscript]

domestic bliss

Pairing: Nicholas Sterling III x reader Description: Seven months pregnant with Nicholas’ child, you should feel safe—but the walls are too close, the air too thick, and the doors never quite open. This is normal. This is love. But you know better. Warning/s: Yandere. That's it. Note: Another commission for @violetvase ! Thank you so much for your support. I hope you enjoy this! Parts: ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

Masterlist | Commission | Tip Jar

The slow murmur of a saxophone spills from the gramophone in the corner, weaving itself between the soft clatter of silverware against the finest china you’ve ever touched. The weight of the utensils feels foreign in your grasp, as if they belong to someone else, someone meant to sit at this table without the quiet thrum of panic coiling beneath their skin.

Nicholas sits next to you, his gaze a constant, possessive thing, lingering even when he pretends to focus on slicing into his steak with meticulous care. Across you, his mother lifts her wine glass with an elegance that seems second nature, her smile warm but knowing, like she’s in on the secret of your existence here.

The music hums on, smooth and slow, a lover’s whisper against the walls. A mockery of peace.

“Eat, darling,” Nicholas urges, his voice gentle, coaxing, but beneath it—an edge, a command.

You pick up your fork, pressing it into the soft meat, feeling its tenderness yield beneath the tines. The motion is automatic, rehearsed. Just another performance in the fragile illusion of normalcy that drapes over this house like lace, delicate enough to tear if you breathe the wrong way.

The clink of silver against porcelain fades into the background as his mother sets down her glass, eyes gleaming with something both mischievous and wounded. The warm glow of the chandelier overhead does little to soften the accusation in her gaze as she looks between you and Nicholas.

“You know, I had to hear it from Nara,” she announces, her tone light, but her posture stiff, expectant.

Nicholas exhales through his nose, the smallest shift in his expression betraying his exasperation. “Mother—”

“No, no, don’t you ‘Mother’ me.” She leans forward, her manicured fingers curling against the edge of the table as if she’s physically reining herself in. “I was there for everything. I helped pick out the crib, the clothes, the bottles—I have been involved. And yet, the one detail I don’t know, the one surprise left, you keep from me?” She presses a hand to her chest, as if personally wounded. “You let me go shopping without knowing if I was buying for my grandson or granddaughter?”

There’s something almost childlike in the way she pouts, a stark contrast to the polished woman she presents herself as. It’s unsettling. Endearing, in a way. Dangerous, in another.

Nicholas sighs, setting his knife down with deliberate care. “It wasn’t intentional. We weren’t keeping it from you.”

His mother gasps, dramatic, pressing her hand over her heart as though he just struck her. “Oh, so I suppose I was just forgotten, then?”

You shift in your seat, pressing your palm over the swell of your stomach in an absentminded gesture. The weight of her attention flicks to you instantly, eyes softening. She reaches forward, fingers brushing your wrist as she squeezes gently, reassuringly. “And you let him do this to me?” she asked, though there’s no real malice in it. Just a sort of helpless fondness, the kind that worms its way into your ribs and makes you question whether you should be charmed or unsettled.

“I—I didn’t think—”

“Oh, darling, don’t you start.” She releases you with a huff, shaking her head. “Honestly, Nicholas. A boy. A grandson. And I had to hear it secondhand? You are impossible.”

Nicholas rubs his temple, the tension in his shoulders making it abundantly clear that this is not a new conversation between them. “It’s hardly life-altering news.”

“For you, maybe. But I’ve been waiting for this moment since you were in the womb.” She exhales, long-suffering, before fixing you with a smile, warm and indulgent. “At least tell me you’re excited. A little bit?”

Excited. The word rolls through you, foreign, unfamiliar, heavy. There are many things you feel—excitement is not among them. But her smile is expectant, and Nicholas’s stare unwavering, and so you force yourself to nod.

Her expression brightens instantly, eyes alight with something almost reverent as she reaches for your hand again. “Oh, we have so much to plan, don’t we? The nursery, the final touches—at least now I know which colors to lean into. Not that I mind terribly. He’ll be beautiful, I just know it.”

The weight of expectation settles around you, cloying and thick, wrapping itself around your throat like a velvet ribbon. You smile, small and polite, and Nicholas’s fingers brush against yours beneath the table, a silent warning, a quiet claim.

The music plays on, smooth and slow, curling through the air like smoke.

A mockery of peace.

His mother dabs at the corner of her lips with a linen napkin before setting it aside, fingers lacing together atop the table. Her eyes gleam with something more calculating now, a shift from playful grievance to something with sharper edges.

“There’s also the Thanksgiving party coming up,” she says, almost offhandedly. “It’s important, Nicholas. A celebration of everything you’ve built after…everything.”

Your stomach knots.

His mother doesn’t say it outright, but you hear it anyway. After everything. After you.

Nicholas’s grip tightens around his fork, just for a second, before he forces himself to relax. “I know.”

“And I think it’s time people saw her,” she continues, gesturing toward you with a knowing smile. “The world need to know who she is.”

Something flickers behind Nicholas’s eyes. A shadow of something cold, possessive. His lips press together. “That’s not necessary.”

His mother tilts her head, bemused. “Oh, but it is. People are curious, Nicholas. And you can’t just keep her locked away forever.

Can’t he?

The words hang unspoken between them, but you can feel the weight of them, thick and suffocating. Your pulse thrums against your skin.

Nicholas doesn’t respond right away. He studies his mother, his fingers curling, tapping once against the table. A silent war.

Then, his mother smiles, almost too brightly. “You know, I’ve been telling everyone in my circle how beautiful your story is. How you fell in love with her, Nicholas. How it wasn’t about the money, wasn’t about anything but her. It’s the perfect tale of destiny. The romance between the caretaker, who is so dedicated and selfless, and the patient, who fell for the one person who wasn’t just there for the inheritance.”

Your heart drops.

His mother’s gaze softens, as if she’s remembering some distant, sentimental moment. “How you looked at her the first time, knowing she wasn’t like the others. How she cried for you, Nicholas, when you missed a step and had to get stitches on your forehead. You never saw it, but she wept for you. She never confessed her feelings, not once. But I knew. I always knew.

Nicholas’s jaw tightens, but his eyes shift toward you, locking in place, dark and cold.

“I know how it looks, Mother.” His voice is quiet, but there’s a chill to it, something that cuts through the warmth of the room. “But this isn’t something we need to broadcast.”

His mother leans back, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “Oh, but it’s not just about what you need, Nicholas. It’s about what’s right. People should see the connection between you two. They’ll understand. They’ll see that this isn’t just some simple arrangement between patient and caretaker.”

Your stomach churns.

She turns her attention to you, her eyes soft and calculating as she smiles. “It’s time they knew you. Time they saw the bond that has been blossoming here. They’ll admire you, just as I do. A love story no one could ever forget.”

Nicholas’s hand clenches into a fist, the subtle tension in his posture thickening with every word his mother speaks. “I’m not hiding her, Mother. But this… this is too much.”

His mother shakes her head, dismissing his concerns. “Oh, it’s not too much. It’s necessary.”

Her gaze shifts to you again, her smile wide and almost too warm. “You’ve been part of this family for a while now, darling. You should be proud to stand by his side.”

The tension in the room thickens, and Nicholas’s words come out with a quiet but unmistakable fury. “Fine. You’ve had your say. I’ll agree, but on my terms.”

His mother beams, victorious. “Perfect. I’ll make the arrangements. And we’ll have a beautiful celebration.”

She stands, smooth and graceful, as if nothing had just shifted between the three of you. She walks toward Nicholas, kissing him on the cheek before moving to you, cupping your face with a delicate touch. “I’ll see you soon, darling,” she says, voice sweet but laced with something else.

Then, with a final glance, she’s gone, leaving behind only the scent of her perfume and the tension that suffocates the room.

The door clicks shut, and Nicholas moves without warning.

You barely have time to react before he’s on you, his arms crushing you against him with a force that steals your breath. It’s not a tender embrace—no, it’s a claim. A marking. His body presses you into the hard line of his chest, every inch of him seething with something dark, something urgent. His breath is hot against your temple, teeth grazing the soft curve of your ear as he speaks in a low, dangerous murmur.

“You won’t try again, will you?” His voice is a promise, low and silky, but underneath it—there’s an edge. A tremor of barely contained violence.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight with the weight of his words. You know exactly what he means. Not another escape. Not another attempt.

But there’s no need to answer. He already knows.

His hand slides down your arm, the touch almost too gentle, too calculating. He traces over the skin where the tracker resides—silent, invisible, but always there. A reminder. His fingers press against the spot, not gently, but with a purposeful intensity, as if marking his territory. As if claiming you even more thoroughly than before.

“Don’t you dare think you can run again,” he growls, his voice dropping to a whisper, sharp and venomous, like a blade pressed to your skin. “You think you can outsmart me? You’re not getting away. Not this time.”

His lips graze your jaw, brushing against your skin, before his teeth catch the edge of your earlobe, biting down just enough to make your breath catch. A small, cruel sound escapes you, and he groans low in his throat, the sound rough with restrained hunger.

“You’re mine. Always have been. And no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be free of me.” His grip on you tightens, his hands moving to frame your face, cupping your cheeks with a possessiveness that feels like it’s suffocating you. He brings you in closer, his forehead pressing against yours, and his eyes are dark pools of something that looks far too much like obsession. “You’ll never escape. Not from me. Not from this.”

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate, as if he’s savoring the moment. His gaze never leaves your face, and the intensity of it makes your skin crawl. There’s nothing kind in that look. Only ownership. Only control.

“You don’t understand, do you?” he murmurs, almost tenderly, though the violence lurking in his tone is unmistakable. “You’re mine, and no one can take you from me. Not now, not ever.”

His fingers tighten again, pressing against your throat just enough to remind you of his power. You can barely breathe, but the air is thick with the tension between you, heavy and suffocating.

“Try to run again,” he whispers, lips curling into something that almost resembles a smile. “And I’ll make sure you regret it.”

He pulls back just enough to study your face, his gaze piercing, as if he’s waiting for some acknowledgment—some understanding that you’re his, fully, completely. The smile that creeps across his lips is soft, but it’s a predator’s smile. A cruel, possessive thing.

“You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” he asks, voice silky and lethal.

His hands fall to your waist, pulling you closer once more, as if there’s no space in the world for anyone else, least of all you.

The music plays on, but now it’s no longer a mockery of peace. It’s the sound of a predator circling its prey, the rhythm slow, steady, inevitable.

And you, like everything else in this house, belong to him.

• ─────⋅☾ ☽⋅───── •

The opulence of the evening drapes over you like the gown Nicholas selected himself—silken fabric gliding against your skin, hugging your form in a way that flatters but does not constrict. The deep, muted hue shimmers under the golden glow of chandeliers, reflecting the wealth and status of the people who fill the room.

Nicholas never leaves your side. His hand rests possessively at the small of your back, a constant, grounding pressure that reminds you of his claim. You move only when he moves, speak only when prompted, and even then, your voice is little more than an ornament to the conversation, unnecessary yet expected. His mother beams at you, at him, at the perfect picture she’s presenting to the world.

“She was never after the money,” she coos to the women gathered around. “And she never even confessed her feelings for him, you know? But the moment Nicholas got stitches—oh, she cried for him. That’s how I knew it was real.”

A delighted hum ripples through the circle of elegantly dressed women. They look at you with something warm, something approving. As if you’re the epitome of devotion, of a love story too good to be hidden away.

Nicholas answers for you when questions arise, his voice smooth and unwavering, crafting a narrative you have no say in. His mother basks in it, weaving you into her world with delicate precision, ensuring every guest understand just how deeply Nicholas loves you—and how deeply you love him.

A hand at your elbow startles you. Not Nicholas. Trevor, his assistant.

His voice is gentle, polite, carefully measured. “Forgive me for interrupting, sir,” he says, directing his words to Nicholas first before his gaze flickers to you. “But I believe she may need a moment to step away. Just for some air.”

Your breath stills. Nicholas’s fingers press into your waist, a barely perceptible squeeze. He doesn’t look at you, only at Trevor, assessing, calculating. Trevor’s tone remains respectful, non-confrontational, but he does not backdown.

“She hasn’t said a word about it,” he adds softly, “but I can tell.”

Nicholas exhales through his nose, the tension in his jaw visible, but before he can respond, his father’s voice cuts through the murmur of conversation.

“Nicholas.”

It isn’t just a summons—it’s an expectation, a command wrapped in the weight of authority. When Nicholas turns, his father is watching him from across the room, a hand raised in a subtle but unmistakable gesture. “Come. They’re waiting.”

The business partners. Nicholas cannot refuse, not without making a statement that would ripple through the evening.

His grip tightens briefly before he turns his attention back to Trevor. “Stay with her,” he commands, low and firm. “Not for long.”

Trevor inclines his head. “Of course, sir.”

Nicholas studies him for a moment longer, then his gaze drops to you. Dark. Unreadable. His thumb brushes over your wrist—a silent warning—before he finally steps away, striding toward his father with practiced ease.

The moment he’s out of earshot, Trevor exhales, lowering his voice. “Just a moment outside, if you’d like,” he offers, his tone light but kind. “I’ll stay with you.”

The weight of Nicholas’s absence is both a relief and a phantom pressure still lingering against your skin.

You nod. Trevor does not smile, but something in his expression softens.

He leads you away, and for the first time tonight, you breathe.

• ─────⋅☾ ☽⋅───── •

The night air is crisp against your skin, a welcome contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the party. The city sprawls beneath the balcony, lights twinkling like distant stars, but they feel as unreachable as freedom itself.

Trevor stands beside you, silent at first, his presence neither overwhelming nor intrusive. Just there. Allowing you the space to breathe.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “For noticing.”

Trevor turns his head slightly, studying you with quiet curiosity. “Noticing?”

You exhale, fingers brushing against the smooth railing. “It’s been a while since someone did.”

His gaze lingers, patient, waiting for you to say more. You hesitate, warring with yourself before the words slip free, fragile yet firm. “I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t even supposed to meet him.”

Trevor says nothing, but his attention sharpens, an unspoken invitation for you to continue.

You swallow, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I applied for the job in place of my friend. She… she couldn’t make it, and I thought… just one day. Just enough to help her. But he wouldn’t let me go.”

Trevor’s brow furrows. He remains silent, but you can feel the weight of his concern.

“I tried to leave.” You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. “Three times. And every time, I failed. I don’t even try anymore. I can’t. Not when—” Your hand drifts instinctively to your stomach, fingers ghosting over the fabric of your gown. “Not when my child deserves better than a mother who keeps running and failing.”

Trevor’s jaw tightens. “So, you stay. For your child.”

You nod. “If it means they grow up safe, with everything they need… I’ll play the part he wants.”

Trevor exhales slowly, his fingers curling into fists before he forces them to relax. Then, carefully, he reaches out, his hand grazing yours before settling against the back of it. A silent promise. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

You blink up at him, unsure if you misheard. “Trevor—”

“I’ll help you.” His grip tightens, his voice unwavering. “We’ll find a way. I swear it.”

A lump forms in your throat, emotions threatening to spill over, but before you can speak, before you can even process the gravity of his words, the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

Something feels off.

Unbeknownst to either of you, hidden beneath the rich ruby of your ring, a tiny bug transmits every whispered confession. And standing just beyond the entrance to the balcony, in the shadows cast by the golden light of the ballroom, Nicholas listens.

Watching.

Waiting.

And the look on his face is anything but forgiving.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @fandangoballs @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger

[methbayprisonblues]

Swift Family Wedding!

beautiful stunning perfect lovely art by @when-sanpape-arts

Darryl officiated because demon!Nick might not be stepping into a church anytime soon

Darryl also cried through more of it than he'd like to admit

Nick and Grace picked out the last name Swift together to avoid all the complexities of picking between close/foster/freeman/wilson

Lauren was their wedding planner, that's her business

bonus couple centric version

[erajunex]

Here’s a sneak peek from my upcoming Father Charlie Mayhew x priestshousekeeper!reader one shot.

➡️ read the entire work here.

18+ content below the cut MDNI.

You were supposed to go, but you couldn't move. You didn't want to.

For the first time in your whole yet short life, you heard it. That voice. The voice of temptation.

You kept staring at him with bated breath, hoping that that show would last forever.

"Ah, fuck..." he groaned and you shuddered.

A shiver went straight to your core and you immediately felt the urge to clench your thighs together and hold back that unusual tickle you had never experienced in such a strong way before.

But it wasn't enough.

Forgive me, Father... you thought. Your cheeks reddened with shame as the last piece of reason faded away from you at the exact moment your right hand went straight under the cloth of your sundress, and just as if it had been guided by a dark and sinister force it sneaked between your legs, right in your cotton panties.

For I have sinned.

English is not my first language, I’m currently translating this from Italian so please be kind with me, i’m sorry for any inaccuracies😭🙏🏼 Leave a comment or lemme know if you wanna be added to the tag-list!

xx

[falsegirlprophet]

𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍, 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖻

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 (2𝙆) (𝙏𝙒; 𝙎𝙢𝙪𝙩, 𝙎𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙁𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣)

‼️18+ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈‼️

-

The story of how the priest fell in love was a single thread that, for better or for worse, tied Eve to her fate.

The Singh family had immigrated from Kolkata to Omaha in search of America’s land of opportunity.

As Eve joined her family in their pew, a handsome young man with brunette hair took to the pulpit; a heavy black cassock hung from his broad shoulders, a crucifix laid over his chest. “Good morning.”

It was a different sight than usual this Sunday morning.

Father Mayhew gave the masses on Sundays and Holy Days of Obligation but was priming his son to take his place on the altar and be the humble shepherd to the sheep of the town.

Charlie Mayhew.

The town’s golden boy, opening doors for the elderly, volunteering at the transient shelter, and babysitting the children of the parishioners.

The perfect picture of what a priest’s son should be.

Charlie didn’t hold any prejudice toward his congregation’s newest additions; he and his father welcomed them with open arms and introduced them to the community as if they were already one of their own.

Even when the townspeople were hesitant or unwilling to accept their newest residents.

“Miss Singh.”

Eve turned at the sound of her last name, looking over her shoulder with wide brown eyes as Father Mayhew’s son approached her with an easygoing grin, smiling and greeting other parishioners as he made his way to her.

“Good Morning,” Eve’s accent was heavy, and her English was still being learned.

The townspeople gave her family odd looks when they did not take the time to understand Eve’s family and friends properly. “The sermon you gave was lovely.”

“Thank you.” Ever humble, Charlie bowed his head meekly. “I have to admit, it’s distracting up there when you’re beneath me.”

Eve blinked in surprise, and Charlie quickly reassured her with a charming grin. “I couldn’t help noticing you’re...missing something.”

“What am I missing?” Eve looked down at herself, holding her missal and rosary in her hands.

Charlie only laughed softly and shook his head dismissively.

“Come back at golden hour. Seven P.M.”

Charlie gestured to the interior of the church. “The light comes through the stained glass just right, and this place becomes...” His dark eyes lingered on Eve for a moment too long, and both young adults could somehow see their lives playing out before them. “Transcendent.”

-

The gold light reminded Eve of her tree swing in the woods of her childhood home as she entered the chapel at seven p.m. on the dot. “Hello?” Her voice echoed in the chapel as she searched for Charlie, who made his presence known from the choir loft behind her.

“Oh!” Eve felt small with Charlie looking down on her from on high; she had felt that way since her family had arrived in Omaha with only the clothes on their backs and their hearts in their hands. “I’m sorry, I did not know you were there.”

Charlie only grinned as if he knew something she didn’t. “Come up here; it’s a better view.”

Eve joined Charlie in the choir loft, and he was right.

The view from up above was better.

“I hope this isn’t too forward.” Eve followed Charlie to the sacristy, gasping in surprise when he began to unbutton his black dress shirt and remove his belt. “I’m going to clean up before I give you what you came for.”

“Wait here.” The gentle demand in Charlie’s voice stirred something inside Eve; she just wasn’t sure what that alien feeling was yet.

Eve turned her head away to stare at the crosses hanging from the wall as Charlie stripped in front of her to his underwear as if he were putting on a show.

Dark eyes stole glances at the size of Charlie straining through the nearly see-through delicate material. “Okay.” She exhaled shakily when Charlie’s half-naked figure disappeared into the bathroom.

The sound of shower water hitting the floor and steam filled the tiny room. It got humid quickly. Eve undid the first few buttons of her dress, sighing and fanning herself as she waited for Charlie to finish.

‘If you’re listening, God. Don’t let Mummy and Daddy catch me.’ Eve silently prayed to the various crosses and religious imagery decorating the church back room.

An unmarried woman still at home with her parents, alone in the handsome, young priest’s chambers?

Eve second-guessed the consequences of this visit as she redid the buttons of her dress, shooting to her feet when Charlie exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam.

Droplets of water dripped down Charlie’s bare and glistening chest; his brunette hair was shiny copper in the low light of the room. “Is something wrong, Eve?” He looked down at himself, laughing as if he now realized he was naked.

Save the white towel hanging from his hips.

Eve followed the trail of hair on Charlie’s abdomen that disappeared underneath the towel. “I... do not want to get us in trouble.” She nervously twisted a lock of hair around her index finger, turning it purple. “What would people say?”

Charlie’s expression changed to one of mock hurt. ‘Me?’ He mouthed, putting a hand over his heart. “Miss Singh. I’m wounded.” He boldly walked up to Eve, caging her against the dresser she backed up against and retrieving a velvety, black box that sat inside.

“I cannot accept-” Charlie gently shushed Eve when she began protesting, putting his smooth, cool hands over Eve’s to guide her fingers to open the box.

Gasping softly, Eve was in silent awe as she lifted a golden crucifix, hanging from a delicate gold chain that dangled from Eve’s long, brown fingers. “It’s beautiful.” She whispered, her dark brows knit together in confusion. “What is it?”

“This shows who you belong to.” Charlie watched the gold light reflect on Eve’s features as she admired the necklace.

Eve allowed Charlie to take the necklace from her fingers, his words running through her head. ‘Who I belong to?’ She wondered. ‘Who do I belong to?’

“Turn around.”

Eve obeyed as if Charlie’s commands were almost second nature, closing her eyes when Charlie gathered her long, black locks in his hands and combed his fingers through it once, twice, before pulling her hair back to fall between her shoulder blades.

The necklace chain was cold as it graced Eve’s throat, shuddering when she felt Charlie ever-so-slightly run his index finger along her collarbone. “Blessed be you.”

Eve nodded and bid Charlie goodbye, confused of the events that had transpired as she walked home.

The tutoring lessons Eve began with Charlie to learn English, and church study became frequent. Charlie would stop short of giving Eve her release, cleaning, redressing, and sending Eve home before someone grew suspicious of the young adults’ mutual absence.

-

“I am hiding from something I cannot stop.”

Eve stood in the church sacristy with Charlie, her dress bunched in her fists from how tight she clenched her hands at her sides. “It feels like a fever in me.”

The dreams of Charlie’s body on Eve’s, learning to touch herself the way Charlie had instructed her, secret glances and touches in the chapel—it was all becoming too much for Eve to bear.

“Please,” Eve begged, getting on her knees and clasping her hands, looking up at Charlie with desperate brown eyes. “Help me.”

“Oh, Lamb…” Charlie sighed long and low. He guided Eve onto all fours on his mattress, pushing her dark hair off her shoulders and pressing his nose into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply until Eve filled his senses. “You'd do well to say yes to me.”

Feeling Charlie’s cold, smooth hands slide up her waist, undoing every button before sliding the dress up over her head. “Do as I say.” His tone was low and dark; it reverberated through Eve’s body as he dragged his mouth down her spine.

Neatly folding Eve’s dress, Charlie placed it on the bedside table.

“I’m on fire,” Eve exhaled shakily, bunching the fabric of the comforter in her hands when she clenched them into fists underneath her, feeling Charlie’s heavy, dark presence behind her.

“I’m on fire, I’m on fire, I’m on fire...” Eve chanted like a prayer as Charlie teased her with featherlight touches that transformed into a hungry seizing of Eve’s flesh, digging his strong fingers into her soft, brown skin and marking her as his for the taking.

“You poor thing...” Charlie rolled his neck, muscles flexing as he pulled the towel from around his waist, freeing his erection as he approached the end of the bed. “Sweet, mourning lamb.”

Eve closed her eyes when Charlie ran his index finger down her spine, gripping her hip in his hand as he teased the throbbing head of his erection against her soft cunt. “There's nothing you can do.” His jawline flexed, muscles straining, and his face flushed as he bent over Eve’s trembling frame. “It's already been done.”

‘What fear a woman like you brings upon a man like me.’ Charlie thought darkly as he wrapped Eve’s ebony locks around his fingers and closed his hand into a fist. “Show me your face.” He demanded, giving Eve’s hair a sharp tug to force her back to arch, making her look up at him with desperate brown eyes.

“Heard you,” Charlie was a man possessed, massaging Eve’s breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples until they hardened under the pads of his fingers.

Eve turned her face into the pillow and screamed when Charlie stretched and rubbed her most intimate part, “Saw you.” His dark eyes never strayed from Eve as she writhed like a snake underneath the weight of him.

“Felt you,” Each prayer was punctuated by a thrust from the priest; his headboard scratched the sacristy wall. “Gave you.” Charlie dropped his head to his chest when Eve clenched around him, grunting in time with their movements.

“Need you,” Eve continued the prayer when Charlie went non-verbal, his dark eyes blown out as he frantically began to fuck her into the mattress. “Love you.” She felt Charlie’s hands slide underneath her legs and pushed her knees to her chest.

Glancing at his reflection in his dresser mirror, Charlie grinned at his flushed and sweaty face, his chest and neck marked with love bites and scratches from Eve.

Flexing a toned arm, Charlie admired how Eve’s long legs shook atop his broad shoulders, bending over to give Eve a sweet kiss on her sweaty lips.

“Charlie-!” Tears streamed down Eve’s face; it hurt how big Charlie was inside her, stretching her open and thrusting relentlessly.

“Am I hurting you, Lamb?” Bending over Eve, Charlie took the gold chain of her crucifix necklace between his teeth; he was slower now but still grunting loudly with every thrust.

“Here…” Charlie’s hand traveled down Eve’s heaving chest to her abdomen, swollen with the fill of him. Finding the hard nub at the top of her cunt, Charlie began to massage Eve’s clit.

Eve’s lips began to tremble, more and more tears streaming down her sweet face as she felt herself clamp down on Charlie.

Eyes wide and lips parted in a silent scream, Eve stiffened, her palms flat against Charlie’s biceps as he finished alongside her.

Charlie pulled out and frantically pumped his arm, locking desperate eyes with Eve as he moaned long and low. A white, warm, and sticky fluid coated Eve’s tummy when Charlie came with stuttering breath and blown-out eyes.

Panting softly on her side, Eve felt Charlie retreat from the bed, listening to the sound of a drawer opening and closing and water being poured.

Kneeling bedside, Charlie placed a wooden handle with multiple ropes hanging from it on the bed, splaying the ropes out wide as he gripped the base of the handle and braced himself.

The sound of wind whistling through the air and the crack of rope on skin made Eve sit straight up, drawing her knees to her chest and covering her face with her arms in horror as she watched bloody stripes bloom onto Charlie’s back.

A single tear slipped down Charlie’s flushed face as he began to line up the blood-stained rope once more.

“Stop-!” Eve threw herself over Charlie, crying out when the rope scarred her wrist. “Why-?” She felt hot tears begin to slip down her cheeks, dripping into Charlie’s wounds. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

“It’s repenting for our sin.” Charlie moved robotically, trying to line up the rope once more, but Eve stopped him with a hand on his forearm. “I have to do it.” He insisted as Eve took his face in her hands, burying her nose in his brunette locks.

“Please,” Eve hugged Charlie’s neck, kissing his temple and gently rubbing his bruised and bloody back. “If someone has to be punished,” She sniffled and pushed her black curtain of hair out of her eyes, her face slick with tears. “This is my fault. I…..tempted you.”

Charlie looked at Eve with tear-filled eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment, making him look boyish and innocent. “I came to you today.” Eve insisted, taking Charlie’s hands and kissing his wrists and fingers. “Punish me.” She begged, clinging to him in desperation.

Slowly nodding, Charlie guided Eve to kneel beside him, exposing her naked back. “Oh, Lamb…” He sighed, gently dragging the ropes down Eve’s spine. “Sweet, mourning, lamb.”

Eve screamed and buried her face in her arms when she felt the sting of the rope against her flesh.

Charlie was quick to envelop Eve in his arms, shushing and comforting her before someone outside was alerted to the illicit goings on in the sacristy.

“Do you think you can take two more?” Charlie opened his bedside drawer and retrieved a salve for Eve’s aftercare. “Three will be enough to please the Holy Trinity.”

Drained of tears, Eve nodded and assumed her previous position, feeling Charlie rubbing the front of his clothed erection into her back as he raised the handle once more.

Two.

Three.

Eve combed her fingers through Charlie’s hair as he cleaned her with a warm washcloth. “Let me.” Charlie took Eve’s delicates when her hands trembled; he slid to his knees and wrapped a hand around Eve’s ankle, lifting it to slide her underwear up her still shaking legs. “It’ll be better if I do these things for you from now on.”

Redoing the buttons of her dress and putting Eve’s black hair over her shoulders, Charlie hooked a finger underneath the gold chain of her necklace, tugging the crucifix upright and forcing Eve to strain her neck to look up at him. “Who do you belong to?” He asked in an even and measured tone.

“You. I belong to you.” Eve sighed in reply, the priest gently laid the necklace across her collarbone, guiding her on his arm out of the sacristy and into the chapel, standing at the church doors as Charlie bid Eve goodbye.

“After Sunday Mass. I want you waiting on all fours in my bed.” Charlie sweetly kissed Eve’s swollen lips goodbye, but she could see in his eyes it was a demand, not a request, from her priest.

“Yes, Father.”

[geekabilly088]

happy hot fuzz day. remember when those mfs invented love in 2007 💘🚔🍦

[astravires]

[saintcifer]

𝓛𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 ⟢ nicholas alexander chavez.

𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 : 𝖫𝖤𝖳 𝖬𝖤 𝖨𝖭 by H.E.R. 𓂀

summary! your boyfriend desperately wants to get inside you and satisfy himself with you.

pairing: nicholas chavez x fem! oc

warnings: sexual content + unprotected sex! english isn’t my first language so i apologize if there are any grammar mistakes.

i will descend to your sex to explore each other under the eternal night, while we penetrate our desires to merge in the same communion, while the moon whispers your moans and our voices are sweet songs rising to the infinity.

tonight my breath will be the key to your fury that with each caress guides me in your lost madness. i will free the lions locked in the whisper of your gaze maddened by the need of mine.

roar at me, growl at me, awaken your animal instinct with me. my voracious hunger dissolves in the taste of your lips.

there will be no turning back and you will be the muse who in its humidity drowns my fantasies of loving.

“let me in.” he whispers softly into her ear, stirring up thunderstorms inside her.

brianna watched him intently, his naked torso and his fine brown locks falling over his shoulders, turning her man into a work of art worthy of admiration.

although for nicholas, the work of art was her, the fine curves of her naked hips and the subtle corners of her lips curving into a slight smile, similar to the mysterious smile of the monalisa, nicholas would become her Leonardo da Vinci that night.

the touch of his rough fingers made her skin crawl, running with cursed energy over every part of her body.

caressing her pelvis, nicholas moved down her legs until he reached her femininity, her most precious lost treasure.

he grabbed one of her thighs tightly, running his tongue over it, playing with her skin, while brianna begged for mercy, she wanted it with all her might.

“brianna”

the sound of her name coming out of his mouth made the brunette shudder, as if nothing else existed but the two of them. it made her sound so unique, so full of lust, so special. she only belonged to him and no one else.

she watched him intently, raising her gaze to him.

“beg me,” he acclaimed.

“nicholas, please, i’m begging you,” brianna sighed with subtle desperation.

with a mischievous smile playing on the corner of his lips, nicholas left small bites on her thighs, exploring every part of her figure until he reached her intimacy.

he ran his tongue over her clit, drawing circles around it. he licked his lips and enjoyed its sweet and salty taste. he loved that bittersweet taste every time he went deep inside her.

without warning, he began to insert one of his fingers inside her, then he inserted the second, feeling how her intimacy became wetter by the moment, getting wetter and wetter as he went through her.

“fuck, you’re so wet brianna, i love it,” he growled fiercely against her skin.

he continued to thrust his fingers in and out in time with light licks all over her clit. brianna sighed and moaned non-stop, pulling hard on the black satin sheets. she couldn't help it, feeling his tongue inside her felt so good, so fucking pleasurable.

she grabbed his hair and squeezed it hard, pulling him closer to her. she felt the fire burning in her insides, she was about to reach orgasm.

nicholas enjoyed every moan, every sigh, he didn't want to stop, he had his girl right where he wanted her, and he loved it. she filled him with pleasure in each and every one of his senses.

suddenly, she stood up from her spot, positioning herself on top of him, with his cock throbbing and his veins standing out, eager to enter her interior.

“i haven't asked you to finish yet,” nicholas said in a soft, demanding whisper.

“let me in," he desperately asked.

“all yours.” brianna spread her legs and opened her folds, giving him free entry.

nicholas pushed hard against her hips, eliciting a scream from brianna. he thrust in and out mercilessly, one thrust, two, three. he couldn't stop, he didn't want to stop.

“i want you to feel how I make you mine in the different ways you want, satisfying all your desires with hours of pleasure.”

a fleeting kiss burst onto their lips as they both moaned again and again. sweat dripped down their foreheads and the speed increased with each thrust.

nicholas had become an animal, eager and desperate to eat his prey.

“come, touch me, feel me, I want you to cum in me.” nicholas exclaimed against her ear.

brianna leaned her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes, she felt like she was touching heaven and at the same time entering hell.

she wanted with all her might to freeze time and stay in that intimate moment forever, she wanted to enjoy it, feel it until she couldn't anymore.

digging her nails into his back, she felt her fingers leave small marks on his rough skin. the sound of their sexes colliding echoed throughout the room.

and fuck, how good it sounded, it was music to both.

“fuck brianna.” that signaled their end, both of them were about to reach the sweet climax.

she felt his whole body tense, his sharp breath piercing her mouth. she loved him, she loved every part of his soul.

one last thrust made them both finish in unison, culminating in pure pleasure and excitement.

nicholas lay down beside her, leaving a chaste but sweet kiss on her lips and stroking her hair softly. he wrapped his right arm around her neck, while brianna buried her face in his defined bicep.

his breathing was labored, and he could feel his entire chest rising and falling, while his heart was beating and pumping blood with force.

“you are beautiful, brianna,” nicholas confessed, before falling into morpheus' arms.

brianna smiled, caressing his sweaty cheeks from the excitement of the moment.

that night he placed his hands in her mind before reaching her waist, her hips or her lips.

that night he didn't call her beautiful, he called her exquisite.

© diorsainz — all rights reserved. hope you enjoyed it! ♡

[dreamberry24]

Lou and Nicholas!! <3

[3ic95id864pg]

Vash creature

[Twitter:@strawbit_ch]

[cumtastiics]

Hi!! I really loved your recent post featuring yan!murderer seeing y/n with their child. If requests are still open, may you please write that same scenario but with yan!mean ceo instead?

yes ofc 🙌🏻🙌🏻

also kikuo is performing near me.. and i can't go im SO SAD GUYS..

you didn't understand how he got in. you haven't seen him in three years, yet, here he was.

"is that my son?" he almost sounded hurt. you knew it was an act though. "let me see him."

"he isn't yours." your voice was full of hatred. you held the toddler closer to your chest, as he babbled.

"i know he's mine." he stepped closer, as you stepped back. you didn't want him near you. "do you take me for a fool?"

you covered the toddlers face from nicholas, you couldn't let him see his face.

"get out." you tried so hard for your voice not to crack, but you felt so weak. "you- you don't deserve anything from me."

"it's really funny," he kept getting closer, eventually causing you to bump into a wall, leaving no room for escape. "you beg me to leave, yet you hold my child."

you hated how he referred to the toddler as his.

"i can easily take him from you, forever. so, if you want to see him, you should listen to me. okay?"

you couldn't say anything.

"he looks just like me, don't you agree? and you go on about how he isn't mine."

but you never showed him his face.

[broocksz]

uhhhgh hi

been going a little insane about ocs the last few days as well with malevolent but the skelly grind never stops

MY BABIESS THEYRE EVERTIYHTYNTG EVER the one on the left is peril SHOUT OUT PERIL MADE BY MY FRIEND @/eskiinox and the one on the right is my cchild Cole sorry about your life THEYRE GOLDEN GUARD OCS BUT MORDERN AU HEAD IN HANDS THEYRE EVERYTHIONG EVER

[noirscript]

chasing the light

Pairing: Nicholas Sterling III x Reader

WARNING/S: YANDERE. Noncon. Psychological Abuse. Obsessive Behavior. Emotional Manipulation. Violence. Physical Punishment. Pregnancy Manipulation. Coercion. Forced Submission. Stalking. Chase. Intense Psychological Terror. Controlling Relationship.

Note: Full story of Descent Into Madness. From the drafts! ^^ 8k word count 🫡 but will divide it into two parts enjoy! Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Sequel

Tip Jar | Commissions

You never should have agreed

Not to this. Not to her

But how could you have refused when she knelt before you, trembling, tears streaming down her face in the middle of a crowded café? When she clutched your hands so tightly, nails digging into your skin, whispering desperate pleas between gasping sobs?

"Please—please, you’re the only one who can help me! I swear, I wouldn’t ask if I had any other choice!"

People stared. Some murmured, throwing you concerned glances, but none of them intervened. A young woman on her knees, clinging to her friend, begging—what kind of heartless person would turn her away?

You swallowed hard, shifting in your seat. "I—I don’t know, this is all so sudden—"

"I’ll pay you!" Her voice cracked, barely above a breath, but the way she gripped you, shaking, made it impossible to look away. "Whatever they’re offering, I’ll double it—I swear, just please, Y/N. Please."

This wasn’t like her. She had always been the strong one—bold, confident, the kind of woman who never showed weakness, never let the world see her cry. And yet here she was, breaking apart in front of you.

She must have noticed your hesitation because she let out a shuddering breath and lowered her head further, forehead nearly touching the floor. A humiliating position.

"Y/N…" Her voice wavered, raw with something fragile and breaking. "If you don’t help me, I’ll lose everything. My family, my life—" Her breath hitched. "They’ll take them away. I can’t—"

Your chest tightened.

You weren’t naïve. Something was terribly wrong.

And yet…

How could you say no?

Her words rattled inside your skull, each one heavier than the last. You could hear the raw desperation in her voice, see it in the way she trembled, fingers clutching at you like a lifeline.

Your mouth felt dry.

"What…what exactly do you need me to do?"

She lifted her head slightly, eyes red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears. The relief that flashed across her face was almost immediate, as if she had been waiting—praying—for you to say those words.

"It’s just…" she swallowed, shaking her head. "It’s just taking care of someone. He’s sick, Y/N. His family needs someone to look after him, someone patient and kind. Someone I know I can trust."

Something about the way she said that sent a chill down your spine.

"And no one else can do it?"

Her expression crumbled, a soft whimper escaping her lips. "I—I was supposed to…but something happened. I can’t anymore, and if I refuse, they’ll—" Her hands clenched into fists. "They’ll take everything from me."

Her body shook as she exhaled sharply, fighting back another sob. People were still watching. You felt their gazes burning into you, some with pity, others with quiet judgment.

She had you cornered.

And she knew it.

You chewed the inside of your cheek, fingers tightening around your coffee cup. "...Where is he?"

"In the countryside. A private estate. You’ll be well-paid, I swear. More than you’ve ever made before. His family is…wealthy."

Something gnawed at the edges of your mind, a whisper of unease. But it was drowned out by the weight of her pleas, the sheer desperation laced into every word.

"I don’t know…"

She let out a quiet, shuddering breath and reached for your hand again. "Please, Y/N. Please."

Silence stretched between you.

Then, before you could fully process the words leaving your mouth—

"Okay."

The moment you agreed, her entire body slumped forward, a choked sob escaping her lips. "Thank you—thank you, Y/N, you don’t know what this means to me—"

But as she squeezed your hands, relief pouring from her in waves, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had just made a terrible mistake.

You sat stiffly in the chair, hands folded neatly in your lap. The weight of Nicholas Sterling III’s gaze settled over you like a second skin—unseen, but impossible to ignore.

He was still watching you.

For a man as outwardly delicate as he appeared, his presence felt oppressive.

"You hesitated before coming," he murmured, tilting his head. "Why?"

You forced a small smile. "I just… wasn’t sure what to expect."

A quiet hum left him, something thoughtful. His fingers traced the rim of the porcelain teacup beside him, his movements slow, deliberate.

"And yet, you still came."

He said it like a certainty. A fact he had always known.

You nodded, unsure what else to say.

He exhaled softly, the corners of his lips twitching—not quite a smirk, but something close.

"You're kind," he repeated, as if reaffirming an observation he'd already made. "Too kind."

You frowned slightly.

"Why do you say that?"

Nicholas’ dark eyes didn’t waver.

"Because only a fool walks willingly into a wolf’s den."

The words sent a strange, cold sensation rippling down your spine.

You let out a small, nervous laugh, forcing some lightness into your tone. "I wasn’t aware I was walking into a wolf’s den."

"Most aren’t."

Silence stretched between you.

For a brief second, something unreadable flickered across his face. Then, as if a switch had flipped, his expression softened, and he let out a quiet, breathy chuckle.

"Forgive me," he said lightly, waving a hand. "I suppose my humor is a bit... unconventional."

Your shoulders loosened slightly, though the unease still lingered.

"It’s alright," you murmured. "I just wasn’t expecting it."

He smiled—small, polite, composed. "Not many do."

There was something unsettling about the way he said it, like he enjoyed the idea of catching people off guard.

You swallowed. "So… what exactly will my role here be?"

Nicholas’ eyes darkened.

"Everything."

The answer came too quickly. Too easily.

You blinked. "I—"

His lips twitched again, amusement dancing at the edges.

"I’ll need assistance with daily tasks," he elaborated smoothly. "Simple things—helping me dress, bringing me my meals, ensuring my space remains orderly."

That all seemed reasonable.

"And…" His fingers tapped absently against the armrest. "Your presence."

Your brows knit together. "My presence?"

Nicholas inhaled slowly, as if carefully choosing his next words.

"Being bedridden can be… lonely," he murmured. "And I find your company quite pleasant."

You didn’t know why that made you uneasy.

Maybe it was the way he was looking at you.

Maybe it was the certainty in his voice, like he had already decided you would stay.

You shifted slightly in your seat. "I’ll do my best to help however I can."

Nicholas' smile deepened, just barely.

"I know you will."

The next few days passed in a strange blur.

Nicholas wasn’t outwardly demanding, nor was he cruel. If anything, he was polite. Charming, even.

But there was something about him.

Something you couldn’t place.

He was always watching you.

Even when you weren’t looking, you could feel it—that subtle, unwavering weight of his attention.

And when you woke up one morning to find that the door to your room, which had never been locked before, suddenly wouldn’t budge—

That was when you knew something was very, very wrong.

✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾

The first time you tried to run, you barely made it past the estate’s iron gates.

Nicholas had been asleep, or at least, you thought he was. His breathing had been even, his grip on your waist loose enough for you to slip away without waking him. You had to bite back a cry when your bare feet hit the cold marble floor, legs trembling as you tiptoed across the vast bedroom. The moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains cast eerie shadows against the walls, stretching the ornate carvings into something monstrous, something suffocating.

You reached the door, hands shaking as you twisted the knob as slowly as possible. The quiet click of the lock disengaging was deafening in the silence.

Don’t look back. Don’t think. Just move.

The hallway was empty. The security detail had been light that night, an oversight or maybe a twisted game on Nicholas’ part—dangling the illusion of freedom just within reach, just to see what you would do. You didn’t care. You bolted, heart pounding in your chest as you navigated the estate’s endless corridors.

Down the grand staircase. Past the dimly lit foyer. Through the kitchen, where the scent of something sweet and expensive still lingered in the air. The back entrance was just ahead. Almost there. Almost—

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off your feet as if you weighed nothing. You screamed, a raw, desperate sound that was immediately swallowed by the darkness.

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?”

Nicholas' voice was steady, almost amused, but there was something beneath it. Something dark. Something dangerous.

You thrashed in his grip, heels kicking against his shins. “Let me go! Please—”

“Shh.” His lips brushed against your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You don’t want to wake the whole house, do you?”

You didn’t care. You wanted to wake them all. You wanted someone—anyone—to see you, to help you. But the only people who lived here were his. Loyal. Obedient.

Silent.

Nicholas sighed, as if you were an unruly child rather than a captive woman fighting for her life. “You know, I was hoping you wouldn’t do this. I really thought you were starting to understand.”

Your body trembled as he carried you back through the halls, his grip firm but careful, as if he were holding something precious.

When he reached the bedroom, he didn’t throw you onto the bed. He placed you down gently, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “I forgive you,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You were scared. Confused. But that’s okay. You’ll learn.”

His fingers trailed down your arm, stopping at your wrist. Before you could react, something cold and metallic clicked into place.

A shackle.

Thick, silver, attached to the headboard by a chain that rattled as you jerked against it.

Your eyes widened. “Nicholas—”

“Hush.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, smiling in that soft, patient way that made your stomach churn. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

And with that, he turned off the lights, crawling into bed beside you, draping an arm over your waist as if nothing had happened.

As if you hadn’t just tried to escape.

As if you weren’t chained to the bed like an animal.

You didn’t sleep that night.

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