Introducing—bimbo!nanny!reader
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. You were a total bimbo, through and through. Obsessed with all things pink, leopard print, Victoria’s Secret and rhinestones, just to name a few, you embodied early 2000s glamour. Your nails were always long and acrylic, your hair always styled to perfection, and your outfits? Always tiny, always tight, and always revealing just enough to make people stare.
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. Nicholas Chavez and his wife Victoria were looking for a nanny—someone responsible, experienced, and reliable to care for their two young children, Alexander who was 4 and Madison, 3, while their acting schedules grew more demanding. You weren’t exactly what Victoria had in mind, but Nicholas? He thought you were perfect.
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. Your dad had sent you the job listing, urging you to try something new—and more importantly, to make some extra cash to fund your shopping addiction. “Just in case you finally suck me dry,” he had joked, handing you the ad. So, you figured, why not?
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. At the interview, Nicholas couldn't keep his eyes off you. You had shown up in a cropped pink Juicy Couture tracksuit, your glossy lips pursed as you answered every question flawlessly. Despite your bubbly, seemingly airheaded persona, you were well educated, experienced, and more than capable. But Victoria had hesitated. “Are we sure she's the right fit?” she had asked Nicholas once you left. “She's perfect,” Nicholas had said without hesitation.
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. For the first few weeks, both Nicholas and Victoria stayed close, observing how you handled the children. To their surprise, you were incredible with them. You played with them for hours, read them bedtime stories in dramatic voices, sang their favorite songs, and even let Madison dress up in your clothes and heels.
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. Alexander was obsessed with you, almost as much as his father was. He clung to your side, mimicking your gestures, even staring at you with the same dreamy look Nicholas sometimes had when he thought no one was watching.
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. Victoria, however, wasn’t blind. The first time she caught you gawking at Nicholas—jaw slack, eyes wide, practically drooling—she had snapped, “Nicholas, put on a shirt.” He had smirked but obeyed, tossing on a t-shirt like it was no big deal.
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. But when she wasn’t home? Nicholas walked around freely—shirtless, towel hanging low on his hips showing his V line after a shower, muscles still damp, chest defined despite being in his early 40s. You had nearly dropped Madison’s juice box one morning when he sauntered into the kitchen like that.
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. “Oh my god,” you whispered, biting your glossy lip. He chuckled, leaning against the counter. “Something wrong?”
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. “Nuh-uh,” you said, twirling a strand of hair. “Just, like—wow.”
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. Nicholas was absolutely whipped. He couldn’t stop staring at you—at the way your little tops always had your bra peeking out, at the way your crop tops rode up to expose your belly button ring, and the tramp stamp paired with your Victoria Secret thongs that occasionally flashed when you bent over.
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. You were flirty, playful, always giggling and touching his arm when you talked. “Mr. Chavez, you’re sooo strong,” you gushed once, pressing a manicured hand against his bicep. He swallowed hard, flexing slightly under your touch. “You think so?”
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. “Mhmm,” you nodded, lips pursed. “Like, if I ever fainted, would you catch me?”
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. “I’d make sure you never hit the ground,” he said, voice low.
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. Victoria didn’t like how much time Nicholas spent around you. She wasn’t outright rude, but she was, watching. And you knew it.
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. But Nicholas? He didn’t even try to hide how much he enjoyed your presence. He lingered in the kitchen longer than necessary when you were making breakfast. He always made sure to say goodnight when you put the kids to bed. And sometimes—just sometimes—when you walked past him in your skimpy outfits, he let his gaze linger just a second too long.
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. You were naturally flirty, and Nicholas never stood a chance. Whether it was handing him a jar of jam and cooing about how big and strong he was when he opened it or lounging by the pool in your tiny pink bikini and asking him to rub sunscreen on your back, you always knew how to push his buttons. He tried to keep his cool, but you saw the way his jaw clenched, the way his hands flexed, the way his eyes always lingered just a second too long.
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. The way he looked at you wasn’t subtle. You caught him staring all the time. When you bent over to pick up Madison, when you stretched in the mornings and your playboy bunny belly ring glinted under the light, when you sat on the couch, twirling your hair and licking frosting off your fingers after baking with the kids. Once, you called him out on it. “You’re always staring, Mr. Chavez,” you giggled. His ears turned red, and he muttered something under his breath before leaving the room.
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. You never expected to get photographed with him, but you didn’t mind. Nicholas had taken you and the kids for ice cream, and suddenly, cameras were everywhere. “Nicholas! Who’s the girl?” one asked. “New nanny or new girlfriend?” You just giggled, wrapping your arms around his. “Oh my gosh, Mr. Chavez! Are we dating? Why didn’t you tell me?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re gonna get me in trouble.”
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. He did get in trouble. Victoria was pissed when she saw the pictures, and the tension in the house was thick. Later that night, you found Nicholas in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass of whiskey in hand. You licked whipped cream off your spoon, hopping onto the counter beside him. “Are you mad at me?” you pouted. He exhaled. “No, just—this is complicated.” Your silk pajama shorts rode up as you swung your legs. “Mmhmm. But complicated can be fun.” He looked at you for a long moment—then suddenly, he was there, standing between your legs, hands gripping your waist.
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. You had shared a slow kiss, hesitant. But when you sighed against his lips, pulling him closer, he groaned and deepened it. His hands roamed, fingers brushing your exposed skin. You tasted like sugar, smelled like vanilla and flowers, and Nicholas couldn’t get enough. When you finally pulled away, breathless, you licked your lips, smirking. “Wow. You’re really good at that.” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “This is bad.” You kissed his jaw, giggling. “Mmhmm. And you love it.”
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. You had always been into older men, and Nicholas was no exception. The way they carried themselves. The way they spoke. The way they looked at you—like they actually saw you. Boys your age were boring. Nicholas was not. And now, with his hands still lingering on your waist, his lips still tingling from yours, you knew one thing for sure.
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. You wanted more.
ೃ࿔*𓍢ִ໋✧˚. And so did he.
︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿
a/n— I hope this introduction was good, send me requests for nicholas x bimbo!nanny!reader🩷
tags: @blackynsupremacy @hoffmansgirl @nicholaschavezslut69
