warnings: female simping, seriously, it's concerning for feminism. NO BETA. It's 1am and I can't be fucked right now
summary: You and Cameron have been best friends since senior year of high-school. You've loved him for years, but have never been sure of his feelings for you. When you find your long forgotten prom dress, certain truths may come out.
word count: 4034
a/n: Silence, performative male Cameron Winter fan, a deranged girlperv who wants to have lots of sex with him is speaking, listen and learn.
I just spent like half an hour trying to make my goddamn text to speech work so I could check for typos and fuck ups but its not working and it's 1am and I am so so so tired so goodbye goodbye whatever I'm fucking posting it meow meow meow
Also this turned into a 3 parter + bonus chapters so fuck you lmao you're getting MOAR
Taglist: @ath3nasgard3n @xstarkillerx @mkgeewife
I have gone to great pains to be perfect tonight, dedicating my entire day to meticulously treating the hair on my head with potions and hot air until it falls in a thick, silken cascade down my back, while taking equal measures to rid myself of hair on the rest of my body. I have ground down the callouses of my feet, and cut, shaped and polished the nail on each toe. My hands are now home to ten flawless burgundy press-on nails, and a number of silver rings, some of which present a deep, blackish garnet that turns wine-red in the sunlight. I have hung beads and jewels from my ears, neck, wrists and ankles, and donned lace underwear beneath my dress, just in case. I have evened out my pale skin and painted my face back into place in smokey tones of rich brown, silver, and maroon like spilled wine.
I am trapped in front of the mirror, rotating before my own reflection in disbelief. I am not sure there has ever been an occasion in my twenty-two years of life that I have looked so beautiful. I am an alien creature, taken form as a doe on two legs. Even my kitten heels are like little hooves beneath the sheer hem of my dress. It turns out that staring at yourself like Narcissus takes up a lot of time, and before I know it, I’m receiving a barrage of brainrot on my phone, which is Cameron’s way of saying he’s waiting downstairs.
I find him at the base of the stairs, standing side-face and leaning on the banister like some old-timey gunslinger. He has one hand in the pocket of his long, black overcoat that hangs open despite the biting weather, while the other is occupied with his phone. His face is shaded under this black felt Stetson I remember him buying on our trip to the Grand Canyon. I guess he’s never had the chance to wear it before, or maybe never had the confidence. Either way, he looks like he was born with it on. His suit and tie are black too, with a deep red shirt beneath that’s almost a perfect match for my dress. It’s buttoned tight to his throat. I miss his collarbones with their dips and rises, and smooth tan skin. Still, wrapped up so nicely he is nothing short of divine. The incandescent lamplight catches the fall of his hair and the slope of his aquiline nose, I could just cry, and cry, and cry.
I pull out my digicam and take his photo. I have him in my web; forever frozen in this strange, liminal moment between hearing the door close, and looking up to see who’s watching him. He’s casual, yet alert. A coyote at rest beneath the shade of a saguaro.
He looks up sharply, and for a moment he is absolutely still. I have him in my cross-hairs, waiting for him to make a move, but he just stares with those wide, puppy eyes. Then, he blinks, and the cloud clears from his face. He flips me off and I take another photo. He tries to look stern as he saunters up the steps towards me and collides his palm with my forehead, gently, but firm enough that my head tilts back.
“Bshhhh.” He imitates the sound of a slow-motion punch. “Don’t take pictures of me, asshole.”
“Fuck you!” I frantically try to fix my fringe back into place. I think about pushing his hat off, but it looks too perfect to mess with.
“Fuck you back.” He smooths my fringe back down for me. “Relax, stupid. You look great.”
“…thanks…” I’m praying my foundation really is full-coverage because my face is on fire.
“You ready?”
“Obviously.” I snap, harsher than I was aiming for, but I am a little highly strung.
“Excuse me, princess.” He puts his hands up in surrender.
“Don’t I look ready?”
He steps back and observes me, looking me up and down with a languid sweep of his eyes.
“Turn around.” He commands, and something inside me clenches. I show him my back and look at him over my shoulder, trying very hard to look coyly seductive, despite never learning how. “No. No, you’re pretty under-dressed, actually.”
I cross my arms, roll my eyes, and whip around to stare up at him venomously. He scoffs, and my stomach warms as a smile melts onto his face, just for me; cheeks dimpling and little fangs flashing in the low light.
“Don’t look at me like that.” I could almost swear his cheeks turn a little peachy under the weight of my stare.
“Don’t piss me off.”
He laughs, deep and breathy, and goes digging in his tote bag until he pulls out a little plastic box containing a dark red rose, wreathed in a sparing amount of baby’s breath and attached to a wide, black satin ribbon.
“Holy shit…” I whisper.
He pulls back his overcoat to reveal a matching flower pinned to his suit pocket, smirks and raises his eyebrows like it’s the fanciest thing he’s ever bought- which, besides the Stetson, it might be. He takes it out with exaggerated care and begins to tie the corsage to my wrist. It’s so beautiful that it makes my eyes burn.
“Don’t cry on me now,” He murmurs, glancing up from his work. “You’ll fuck up your makeup.”
Long, deft fingers brush my skin as he ties it in a bow. My heart bangs against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.
“It’s so pretty.” That’s all I can manage to say.
He draws my hand up and presses his lips to the back of it. I can feel the sting of stigmata.
“You’re pretty.” He peppers kisses on each of my knuckles.
“Says you.” It slips out before I can control myself, but he seems to preen under my small praise.
“Meh-meh.” He mimics my tone as he slings an arm around me, soft sandalwood filling my nose. “C’mon, I got a reservation.”
*
Turns out the reservation is at fucking Dave and Busters of all places, not that I’m complaining. We have a nice table too; nestled in beside the window, far away from the excitement of the arcade. Granted, all you can see out of said window is the apartment block across the street, but it’s not the ugliest building in Brooklyn by a stretch. Cameron sits across from me and I’m lazered in on the menu, trying not to look up at him. He’s taken off his Stetson, letting his hair flop freely around his face in a way you couldn’t recreate with oil paints.
“Know what you want yet?”
Hell yes, I do. I think. Do you?
“Mmph, no.” I say. “It all sounds so good.”
“Get whatever you want. My treat.” I look up, frowning, but he holds his hand up to keep me quiet. “If you try to pay for anything tonight, we’re going bare-knuckle in the parking lot.”
“We always split.” I insist.
“Don’t care, didn’t ask,” He flips me the double bird. “L, ratio, cry about it. Mald, seeth, cope, etcetera. Plus, you fell off. Plus, you’re short.”
“Fine.” He’s making me laugh, which means he’s winning. “You wanna pay? I’m getting a steak. Here, look.” I flip the menu to face him and point out a morbidly expensive pasta dish. “Steak and lobster alfredo. And I want a side salad. The apple and pecan one.”
He just smiles.
“Like I said, whatever you want.”
“Fine. I want this blue drink thing too. And funnel cake fries.”
“Sure, but I’m having half the funnel cake.”
I sit back, almost defeated, but I try one last time to get the upper hand.
“Let me pay for the drink at least, and dessert.”
“Allison, I will take you home right now. I’m not kidding.” I muster up my most intimidating frown, but he brushes it off. “C’mon, I call you princess all the time, didn’t you ever wonder what it’s like to actually be one?”
“What are you, my sugar daddy? You couldn’t afford me.” I think we’re both a bit embarrassed that I said that.
“Calling me broke is not great for my ego, princess.” He flashes his orange D&B power card like its a platinum credit card. “You forget, I’ve got Geese money, baby, and I can spend it however I want.”
I want to keep arguing, but I can’t control my laughter, so it’s all over.
“Y’know, I could have dropped a cool million on some Michelin Star bullshit at Francie or Four Horsemen or some shit, but I figured you’d have more fun here. Really, you’re within your rights to feel cheated.”
“Francie in dead, billions must Bust.”
He cracks up, face buried in his hands. I feel like I’ve gotten some acreage back in the great war of idiocy.
“Thank God I didn’t take you there, you can’t behave yourself.”
*
Cameron has volunteered to be my personal pack horse, carrying the huge bag of stuffed toys, candy and plastic knickknacks we won, bought and bartered from the various machines inside. He seems pretty set on leaving it all with me (bar the armadillo-elephant-rock looking plushy Pokemon thing he caught in a claw machine) but I’ve convinced him to come over later and split up the loot. He absolutely destroyed me at most of the games, especially billiards and bowling, but he made it up to me by volunteering to get into the human claw machine to retrieve the enormous My Sweet Piano doll that I spotted inside.
“I just can’t believe it!” I find myself babbling as we shuffle our way to the subway. “I mean, you never see Piano anywhere. My Melody, sure, but Piano? Cameron, it’s unheard of!”
“Simply unheard of.” He mumbles around his cigarette, looking down at me in that deceivingly affectionate way.
He knows I hate him smoking, but he also knows I’m on cloud 9, so he can get away with it. My feet are aching from standing on my toes so long, but I skip a little bit as I walk. I can feel the Piano doll’s feet knocking my knees as I go. Cam laughs through his nose and hunches his shoulders to the breeze.
“Cold as fuckin’ shit out here.” He rubs his hands together.
“Men raised by flies.”
“Zzzzzzzzzzzz!” He bends down and buzzes into my ear. I push him away and he does a little spin as he finds his way back to me.
I bump his arm with my forehead, letting out a soft humph. I wish every moment of my life could be just like this. Just him and me in our little bubble.
“Don’t tell me you’re tired already?”
“Lil’ bit.”
The truth is, I feel like I could fall asleep on my feet, but he’s here, and I never want to leave him. It wouldn’t be the first time I stayed up until dawn, following him around the city, counting rats and taking aesthetic snapshots of him in front of graffiti murals or sitting on grimy fire-escapes. He spits out his cigarette butt and steps on it.
“Me too.” He bumps our arms together. “Let’s just have another drink at Baby’s so we can say we actually went to the fake prom I asked you to.”
“You getting tired of me?”
“Never.” He gives me a sleepy smile. “I just know you crash around midnight.”
“Never stopped you before.”
He frowns a little, and I immediately regret my choice of words.
“Well, it should’ve. I’ve never been very considerate, have I?”
If I think on it too long, I’m afraid I might agree.
“I-I mean, it’s not like I ever minded. We’ve had some of our best talks after three.”
He grimaces. “I should be able to talk to you in the daylight.”
We’re at the stairs that lead down to the station. I’m strangely aware of the dull roar of traffic and the people bumping past. I let him go ahead of me, just staring at his back as he steps down and away from me. I have this terrible feeling that something between us is set to change, irreversibly.
*
It’s a busy night at Baby’s All Right. Though the bands have finished playing, giving the stage to “DJ SET: Non-stop 2020 Throwback W.A.P. Girl Winter, 11.30 til late,” the place is still packed. I see a lot of faces I recognise from the scene, and a few from high-school. It makes me want to cringe into Cameron’s shadow, but it seems I don’t need to hide myself when everyone is no enamoured with him. I fade comfortably behind him while he charms the bartender into letting us put our things in the green-room, when he dances around conversations with half a dozen acquaintances, and finds a table by the sound-booth that hides me away nicely. He’s polite to them all, but he’s been tense since we arrived at the subway station; and eventually, after several beers and a whole lot of badgering from a pack of bright-haired kids that invited themselves onto our table (‘when’s the solo album out? What’s it called? You playing promo gigs? You need an opener?’) he snaps.
“No.” Though his voice is still low, his fist bumping the table frightens me and jostles my glass of G&T. “I don’t need a fucking opener. I’m on a goddamn date, for Christ’s sake.”
He doesn’t even finish his sentence before the flock disperses with a chorus of ‘sorry, man. Yeah, sorry! See you later…’ I choose to ignore his white lie at the end.
“Fucking vultures.” He rubs his eyes and leans his chin wearily on his hand.
“Hey.” I release my clenched fists, forcing my shoulders to relax. “They just want you to like them. You were like that once.”
“Ugh.” He shifts to look at me, his eyes all sloped and weighed down by something I can’t understand. “I like to imagine I had a little more decorum than that.”
“You didn’t.” I vividly remember the Discord video chat I had with him after he met the guys from King Gizzard for the first time. He looked like he was gonna pee his pants, and that wasn’t six months ago. “You still don’t.”
He scoffs and shakes his head. In the quiet between us, I realise that Dance Monkey is throbbing through my skull with alarming volume.
“God.” I cover my ears. “I forgot how bad pop music was in 2020.”
“Yeah, this sucks. First I skimp out on dinner, then I take you to the worst DJ set of all time. How am I gonna redeem myself after this one?”
“Hey, you could take me to watch paint dry and I’d probably still enjoy myself. I always have fun with you, Cam.”
“Mmph.” He looks away, all squirmy and red. “Shut up, you don’t.”
“I do. We can just ditch, if you want. I don’t really care about fake prom that much.”
“Fine. If the next song sucks, we’ll ditch. If it doesn’t, we have one dance, then we ditch.”
“Deal.”
I stick out my hand to shake, but he take it and rests it on his cheek instead, nuzzling into my palm. He’s shot past tipsy and is on his way to sloppy. I down the rest of my drink, trying to catch up. I try to take my hand back and regain some sense of normalcy, but it seems to have a mind of its own, sitting limp in his grasp as he kisses the pads of my fingers and plays gently with the corsage.
“Cam.” My voice is choked. “What are you doing?”
“Soft.” He mumbles, and that is that.
The next song is mercifully unshitty- in fact, it’s one of my favourites- but it’s slow, intimate, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep it together if we get up and dance. Cameron pulls on my hand, trying to get me to my feet, but I stay put.
“My feet hurt.” I say.
“I’ll carry you. C’mon.”
“Cameron, you’re drunk. You’ll drop me.”
“Nuh-uh.” He kneels beside my chair and taps his shoulder. “Come on. I got you.”
Against my better judgement, I let him hang me over his shoulder. I guess I’m drunk enough that I don’t care. He groans heavily as he gets up, but doesn’t sway as I thought he would.
“Ca-am!” I shriek through my giggles. “I’m not too heavy am I?”
“No.” His voice is strained. “I’m just a scrawny little fuck. Can’t carry anything heavier than a gee-tar. Can I take this chair? Thank yoop.”
He scoops up a tall bar stool in his other hand, not waiting for a reply from the bartender, and carries it to the edge of the dance-floor, and plops me down onto it. Its one of those ones that swizzles around like an office chair. He lets me get settled, then takes my hands and spins around with me a couple of times.
“Comfy?”
“Yeah.”
He takes my hand and sidles in between my knees, laying his other hand on my shoulder so we’re in slow dancing position. The stool is high enough that I am practically the same height sitting as I would be on my feet, so my arms find their natural place around his waist, under his suit jacket. There we are. Where we were meant to be. We sway for a while, back in our little bubble. The smell of him makes me weak. Cigarettes lay rough on top of his creamy sandalwood cologne, and there beneath it all is that musky human scent that he can never quite cover up.
Would you let me, baby, lose on losing dogs?
I know they’re losing, and I’ll pay for my place by the ring,
“I got a present for you.” He ducks down close to my ear, speaking over the music.
I keep my hands on his waist while he goes digging in his bag of tricks, memorising what I can of his topography. He pulls out a Burger King crown of all things and holds it out to me, looking at me expectantly. I don’t want to let go of him, but I relinquish my grip and take hold of the stupid thing. I study it for a moment, then lift it to my head. He shakes his head adamantly until I lower it again. I watch for a shift in his expression. He’s still focused on me with unmatched intensity, but his chin in tucked down, just slightly. I lift it back up, this time toward him. He grins and bows down to let me crown him King of Burgers. It’s a bizarrely intimate affair. He stands up straighter, more regal, and produces another crown from his bag. This one is a silver plastic tiara- the kind you get from Dollar Tree- with pink plastic jewels that look like gummy candies. Gently, gently, he slots the little combs into my hair and smooths out my fringe so it sits just right.
“Didn’t I tell you you’d win prom queen in this thing? Sweetheart, what did I tell you about crying?”
He has a new name for me and it makes me so heartsick that something slips through the cracks.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
He frowns, head tilted as though he may parse some more understanding from a different angle.
“Well…” He scratches at the back of his neck.
“Cameron, there’s something wrong, isn’t there? I mean, you’ve never been one for grand gestures… this-this whole thing feels like… like when you give your dog a whole cheeseburger before he gets put down.”
He huffs a short, tense laugh. “What do you mean?”
“This feels like a goodbye.” My voice cracks. “I-I know you have this… this life now, where you get to travel everywhere, and meet amazing people who know things that I don’t know and- and can give you so much more than I can, but you can come back, y’know? I know I’m nobody, but I can still be there for you. You can change! I won’t hold you back, I swear, just don’t leave me, Cammy, please. I don’t wanna say goodbye.”
He pulls me to him, and I’m crying in his arms again.
“Oh, Ally.” He rumbles. “I could never leave you.”
His hands are wound up in my hair, rubbing soothing circles into my scalp.
“I was only-” He takes a long, shuddering breath. “I was only trying to make it up to you. I’ve treated you so shitty, but you’ve always been there for me.”
I pull myself up from the sanctuary of his chest and let him smooth away the hair that’s stuck to the wetness on my face. The lights overhead catch in the welling tears in his dark eyes, and for a moment it looks as though he’s brought the stars down to earth for me.
“Cameron, I-”
“I know.” Of course he knows. “You don’t have to-”
“How long?” I whisper. He has to lean in to hear my words. “How long have you known?”
“Years.” He admits. “Since… before we were friends. Probably… I probably figured you had a- a crush on me around Thanksgiving, the year before Covid. I figured it would go away, but… well, you know it didn’t.”
“Five years… Why did you keep me around?” My fingers dig fruitlessly into his biceps. “To torture me?”
He swallows hard. I’ve never seen him so desperate and vulnerable, showing me his belly. It takes all of my strength not to take his face in my hands and say ‘it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m your dog.’
“Ally, I-I love you.” He says, apologetic.
Words I’ve played over and over in my mind, testing how they would change as his voice deepened and grew strong with age; but here and now, he sounds more like a frightened little boy than he ever did at eighteen.
“Not fair.” I murmur. I always thought if he just said it, all the pain would go away. Every wound sustained from the waiting and wondering would be sealed with his kiss. But, no. It doesn’t feel that way. Everything is burning, but I can’t let go. “Not fair, Cameron.”
“I know.” He cups my face in his palms and tried to wipe away my tears, but they’re pouring out quicker than he can handle. “I’m sorry. Baby, I’m so sorry.”
I let him hold me, let him rest his forehead on mine. Our crowns knock together like antlers. Our noses bump together, and somehow my hands have found his long, soft hair. His lips are so close, so very close that I can taste the beer on his breath. He leans in and I lean back. He’s chasing me with his lips, but I’m faster.
“Don’t do it.” I whisper. “Not unless you mean it.”
And he’s kissing me, kissing me, kissing me, and I’m coming undone in his hands, unspooling the endless ribbon of myself and letting it weave between his fingers, tangle in his hair, tie in bows around his ribs. He’s so sweet, so tender, and I’m hanging onto him so tight. I can’t let go of him, I can’t stop touching him. His lips, his beautiful lips and his neck, and his hair. He’s so much a part of me that now, with our lips forming the closed circuit, I swear I can feel the tug of my hands in his hair as if it’s my own, feel my own lips reflected back to me, taste myself, smell my perfume with the nose of another.
“I love you.” He groans against me. “Love you, love you, love… come with me."
"Where?" I whimper through swollen lips.
"Wherever I'm going." He nuzzles my cheek. "I don't ever want to leave you again."
With his shirt tight in my fists, I manage to pull away. I search his face and find only starry-eyed sincerity.
synopsis: adding back your classmate on snapchat leads to a night spent together
word count: 4.7k
tags / warnings: smut, fluff ?? at the end, ooc, oral (f receiving), boob sucking (🤔), unprotected p in v, after care, cumming insidee, shower sex, takes place summer after graduation (18+), popularish girl! reader, nate's unknown and overly going, inexperienced nate
a/n: lots of dialogue before anything good. please bare with me for the fake snapchat text. two photos above are described so just imagine those pics when reading also sorry if the fact snap messages is a bit confusing mixed w the text
you scrolled through instagram, looking through your mutuals posts before opening tiktok, looking at videos there again. you constantly switched between apps, trying to find something interesting, yet nothing fulfilled you. all your girlfriends were busy as you'd wasted a perfectly good summer night in bed—even more so, your parents were away. in the past, you would've taken advantage of this, staying out late, sometimes not even coming home, having guys over.. but currently, no one was of interest to you. you'd been 'protecting your peace' for far too long.
the clock on your phone read 2:15 am. you groaned, thrashing around your bed in annoyance when your phone suddenly buzzed with a notification.
nate added you as a friend!
"the fuck.." you muttered to yourself. tons of guys added you on snapchat—you were a very pretty and popular girl, duh—but you were still annoyed when random guys added you. still feeling bored, you clicked on the notification and added him back.
almost immediately, you received another notification— this time of him typing.
nate
hey lol
you stared at your screen in confusion, wondering who this might be and what they wanted from you. you typed a reply back,
me
hi
who this
nate
nate ?
lol we had calculus and history together
if you were being honest, you didn’t know who the fuck this was. for all you know, this could be some made-up person someone was trying to troll or catfish you with or a random man trying to kidnap you.
me
sorry i’m not good with names
can you send a pic?
there was a pause before a picture followed.
nate
this is recent enough
you started at the picture for a minute, taking in how he looked, especially his clenched jaw. he had gone to your school; you'd notice him a few times in the hallways or in the back of classrooms, briefly making eye contact with him because every time you looked at him, he was already looking at you. he was undeniably hot. he had to be at least semi-interested in you if he was adding and texting you at this ungodly hour. you decided to have a little fun.
you saved the photo in chat and hearted it.
me
so what do you look like rn then?
you cringed a little at your words, almost regretting them, till a snap followed. you opened it, and you were met with a blurry mirror photo, his phone's flashlight leaving a glare, but you could still recognise the boy. he appeared to be slightly hunched over and wearing a simple white shirt with a red zip-up over it. cute, you thought to yourself. you saved it in chat before sending your own snap, just a simple selfie, but angling your phone just enough so he could see your tank top. with snapchat’s front flash, your victoria secret shine strap revealed itself.
the moment you sent the snap, it immediately read opened. a few seconds later, it appeared in the chat again as he saved it.
nate
you’re really pretty
me
thanks you’re pretty cute too
on the other side of the screen, nate was gripping onto his phone for dear life. his face was flushed from your photo; he was enchanted by your beauty but caught off guard by the angle. is she flirting with me?
nate
so wyd rn?
me
nothing just laying in bed bored as hell
nate
seems like you’re having a fun summer lmao
surprised you’re not out with your friends
me
couldn’t be bothered tonight
wyd?
nate looked around his room, his friends conversing with themselves by his tv, playing some random game on his playstation. they were the ones who convinced him earlier to add you.
“bro just add her, it’s not that big of a deal.” hollis said, not pulling his eyes away from the tv.
“yeah, I bet she adds loads of guys.” roman chimed in, lightly teasing nate.
“don’t say that about her.” nate argued.
“whatever, man, just do it. it’ll be fine.” hollis replied before yelling at roman for something related to their game.
nate
I have some friends over but I'm not really feeling what they're doing
too busy talking to you lol
you chuckled lightly at his reply before typing.
me
wow really leaving your hbs to talk to me
nate
yup
you paused for a moment, trying to think of what to say next when an idea popped into your mind.
me
if you’re already leaving them to talk to me
why don’t you come over
I hate texting
nate felt his brain short circuit. you had to be trolling or playing with him, there was no way. nate had a crush on you since forever now and now you were inviting him over in the middle of night.
nate
you serious?
me
yeah lol
y/n’s pin
nate
your parents cool with that?
me
my parents are gone for the month
nate felt blood rush to his dick upon reading your text. he quickly grabbed his car keys and checked himself out in the mirror, making sure he looked good for you. hearing his keys jingle, his friends looked at him.
“where are you going?” hollis asked first.
nate looked over to the two boys staring at him, “uh she invited me over.”
“holy shit, nate’s gonna crack.” roman laughed.
“shut up, she just wants to talk and hangout.” nate argued.
“yeah, at nearly 3 am. do you even have protection?” hollis asked, posing another question, being the only reasonable one.
“.. no, and again we’re not fucking! get your mind out the gutter.” nate yelled while reaching out for his doorknob.
“yeah okay, be safe sibby!” roman yelled as nate walked out the door and closed it.
the drive to your house wasn’t long, but it felt like forever to nate. he felt he was driving the highway to hell, his mind running with what was going to happen when he got to your door.
no way she’s inviting me over to just talk at 3 am. fuck, am I actually doing this?
his thoughts came to a stop when his phone announced he arrived at his destination. putting his car in park, he looked out his window at your house, deciding if this was really the right move, his heart pounding. he texted a quick I’m here before exiting his car and locking it.
reading the text, you jumped out of bed and put some slippers on, making your way to the front door. opening the door, you were met with his chest. you had to look up to meet his gaze. his jaw was clenched and his cheeks flushed as he looked down at you.
“hey.” you spoke first
“hi.” he stuttered out.
looking down at you, he took in the sight in front of him. the way your head tilted up to meet his, your eyes big and wide. you batted your eyelashes and your lips were slightly parted. his eyes trailed down subconsciously for a moment, taking in your outfit—if you could call it that. you didn’t bother to change, meeting him in your cropped tank top and boy shorts. nate could feel his jeans getting tighter.
“well don’t just stand there,” you laughed, “come in.” opening the door wide for him to step inside. he quickly takes off his shoes and walks in.
following you to your bedroom, he looks around your house. its all dark from the lights being off, but he can still catch fragments of furniture and decoration. he even recognizes some of the photos your parents put up, having gone to middle school with you.
finally entering your room, he took in the environment. looking at your vanity, the plushies you had laid out, the corkboard above your desk, decorated with photos of you and your friends. your room was comfortable, looking truly lived in.
“here, come sit with me. I can put on a movie.” you call out to him, already sitting on your bed. nate beats himself up in his head for looking at your thighs as you sat on your bed. he carefully sits next to you, almost hanging off the bed, trying to maintain a comfortable distance. “cmon, don’t be like that.” you giggle softly, grabbing onto his arm and pulling him closer.
instinctively, he lays his hand out to hold himself up, only for his hand to land on your thigh. “shit, sorry.” he mutters, almost to himself.
before he can retract his hand back, you place it back on your thigh. “it’s fine, I don’t mind.” you reply, smiling at him softly before turning your attention back to your laptop laying between you.
you snake your arm in the gap between nate’s body and arm to type on your computer, the closeness making him blush and look away.
“what do you wanna watch?” you asked as you opened the netflix tab, selecting your profile.
“doesn’t matter to me”
you hummed in reply, selecting a random movie you’ve already seen. you already knew you weren’t going to pay attention.
as the movie started, the two of you began to talk, opening up with casual questions and answers. you talked about your summer plans and college while nate talked about his friends and music. talking to him felt easy; you didn’t have to put on an act with him like with other guys and your friends. you laughed at his corny jokes and found yourself interested in his passion for music.
“hear, let me show you a video of me singing.” he said while pulling his phone out from his jean pocket. his face id unlocked his phone and the light mode of his photos app highlighted his face. you took in the view as he scrolled through to find a video to impress you.
“here.” he said as he scooted impossibly closer, your thigh almost going over his. he held the phone inbetween both of your ears, a little embarrassed by the faces he made while singing.
as piano played in the background, you heard nate sing. his voice could only be described as beautiful, each note landing perfectly.
he paused the video and put his phone down, turning to you. “what’d you think?” he asked. his eyes slightly widen for a second upon noticing how close your faces were.
“you sound beautiful.” was all you could say.
you two stare at each other for a moment, you looked into his soft brown eyes before falling down to look at his lips.
“can I kiss you?” nate asks first, already leaning in.
“if you don’t, I’m gonna kick you out.” you whisper. without skipping a beat, he closes the gap and kisses you gently.
the kiss was soft and sweet, your lips meeting and moving against each other for a few short seconds. you both pulled back for a moment, still remaining close as you slowly opened your eyes. nate’s eyes were blown wide as he looked at you in awe. you giggled at his expression before snaking your right hand into his hair, pulling him towards you again.
your pull almost made him fall forward, his other hand meeting your thigh. as the two of you began to make out, he slowly crawled on top of you as you sat back against your pillow. your hands cradled his face as his began to run up your thighs to your hips and waist.
as the kiss progressed, you swiped your tongue against his lips, a silent request. he opened his mouth in reply and his tongue chased after yours.
one hand ran down his neck and chest, feeling him through the thin white shirt as you spread your legs for him to come closer. when you finally pulled away, you took in his expression. his face was flushed, lips swollen, eyes squinting, and brows upturned in a pleading expression.
“you taste so good, want more of you.” his words slurred, his fingers gripping on your shorts.
“go for it, I won’t stop you.” you smirked.
with your permission, nate lowered himself down and began to peel your shorts off slowly. once the fabric slide down your thigh, his gaze was fixed on your now exposed pussy. the moment your shorts passed over your feet, they were thrown off your bed and nate’s tongue met your body, licking a up your slit. you let out a quiet moan as a hand raked through his hair, your nails scratching his scalp.
curiously, he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked lightly. hearing you moan louder, he continued his actions as well as leaving kitten licks on the bud. your hand gripped tightly on his curls and you pulled him close to you, your free hand squeezing your own breath through your tank top and bra.
“fuck please, please touch yourself. wanna know I’m making you feel good.” nate moaned against your pussy. he sounded pathetic, moaning from your own pleasure but god, was it hot. he held your thighs against his head as he ate you out, his tongue licking at your cunt as his nose bumped against your clit.
his dominant hand let go of your thigh to sneak under, finding your entrance to slip a finger in. with how wet you were—from both your slick and his salvia—it slipped right in.
you could feel your orgasm approaching and you felt a bit embarrassed—you’d never cum so fast from just a guys mouth and fingers. maybe it was because of how hot he was, or how obsessed he was, or how good he felt, or all both, but it all felt too good.
“fuck- nate, I’m gonna cum.” you moaned, nearly whimpering. you bit down on your lip before he spoke up.
“please don’t hold back, wanna hear you, pretty.”
his words were the final thing that pushed you over the edge, cumming in his mouth and on his fingers. he continued to suck and finger you through it, only stopped when you pulled him off of you by his hair. when he came up, you could see his mouth and chin shine with your slick.
“you taste so good,” he whispered, leaning close to you again, “can I kiss you still?”
“you’re so cute.” you said before pulling him closer to kiss him, tasting yourself in the process.
crawling back ontop of you, you felt his budge rub against your clit causing you to moan at the contact. “fuck nate, are you gonna take those off?”
“you want me to?” he asked.
“unless you wanna dry hump and cum in your pants.” you replied flatly.
he quickly began to fumble unbuttoning his jeans, shimming them down to kick them off. he stripped off his jacket as his shirt followed, leaving him only in his boxers. kneeling in-front of you and inbetween your legs, you took in his body, looking over his lean yet muscular build. you ran your fingers over his abs, feeling the indent of his skin. nate’s dick throbbed in his boxers at your touch.
as you sat up, your breasts touched his stomach from how close you were. you ripped your tank top off and removed your bra, joining the rest of your shared clothes on the floor. his mouth fell agape at the sight.
you hooked a finger into his waist band and let it slap back into place, nate letting out a whine at the sting. he took that as his cue to remove his last item of clothing. he slowly crawled out of his boxers, dropping them on the floor before leaning down to suck on your nipples, his other hand gripping the other tit. you extended one arm down to jerk him off slowly, his hips bucking to meet you.
as he continued to mark up your chest, you felt his pre cum soil your hand. nate was shamelessly whimpering and moaning against your tits. his hips held a soft rhythm, slowly fucking your hand. you inched your hand down, guiding him back to your pussy.
you stopped stroking him and instead began to run his tip across your clit and entrance, nate moaned out loud at the feeling.
“you feel good, baby?” you asked, your voice laced with a mocking tone.
“uh huh,” nate replied without a second thought, “you feel so fucking good. you’re body’s like heaven.” his words came out slurred, breaking away from your tits.
“lemme make you feel even better.” you said, beginning to sink his dick into you. you both whined and slightly hissed at the feeling. nate was undeniably big and especially thick and you already began to clench around him.
“wait!” nate called out, his hand gripping onto yours to stop you from pulling him in further. you looked into his eyes, waiting for him to continue. “we don’t have protection on..” he mumbled.
“I’m clean, are you?” you asked and he nodded in reply. “then we’re fine, I’m on the pill anyways.”
“alright.” he stuttered, letting go of you hand, signaling you to continue.
as your hand moved to further push him into you, he shuffled closer. your moans and whines grew louder until he was eventually buried inside you, his hips against yours. after a few seconds of adjusting to his size, you spoke up, "you can move."
he nodded nervously and placed his hands on your hips, inching his hips slightly back before returning them against yours. your shared moans let him know he was doing something right.
he started with a slow pace, still allowing you to adjust to him while pleasuring you both. when you wrapped your legs around him and whispered in his ear, "faster, nate" it was as if a switch went off in his brain. his thrusts turned faster and harder, nearly slamming into you and knocking the air out of your lungs. your hands gripped onto the pillow behind you as your moans grew louder, nearly yelling out from the pleasure.
nate moved his hands to the back of your knees, pushing them towards your elbows. the new position allowed him to hit unbelievably deeper in you. "fuck nate!" you yelled out.
"keep moaning like that, baby. I make you feel good, huh?" he asked mockingly. it's like your pussy gave him newfound confidence, his words making you squeeze around him like an answer. "fuck, you feel so good." one hand pulled your leg over his shoulder and massaged your calf.
"I'm close, nate." you whined.
"me too, cum with me."
as if his words were a secret command, you reached your high. nate's other hand fell to your clit, guiding you through it.
recalling your comment from earlier, nate panted, quickly asking, "can I cum inside?"
"fuck yes, please." you whined. nate's hips slammed against yours, coming to a halt as he came inside you, shooting deep. the two of you stopped all movement, only panting to find your remaining energy. your limbs were sprawled out on the bed from exhaustion. a forearm covered your eyes.
you broke the silence, "I feel gross now."
nate chuckled, "me too."
moving your hand to look at him, asking, "wanna take a shower?"
"together?" nate asked, excitement lacing his voice. you could almost imagine him as a dog with his owner mentioned going on a walk, his ears perking up and a tail wagging.
you giggled, "duh, unless you're chicken." you pushed your hand against his stomach and he pulled out of you, a hish left your mouth from the loss. you moved to the edge of your bed and sat there for a moment.
"what's wrong?" nate asked, worried about your silence.
you paused for a moment, "I don't know if I can walk after that."
nate let out a chuckle, moving off the bed and standing next to you. "cmon, I'll carry you." he put an arm around your shoulder and snaked the other underneath your knees, carrying you bridal while you pointed him in the direction of your bathroom.
he set you down on your feet as you turned the shower on to a comfortable temperature. turning around, you tilted your head up to look at him again like you did when he first came to your house. the two of you smiled at each other before he leaned down to kiss you again, placing a hand on your cheek and the other finding your hip instantly, as if he already had your body mapped out. your hands raked through his hair, feeling it slicken down with the water falling between you two.
nate pulled away first, asking against your lips, "can you go again?"
"how needy you are."
"you just felt so good, want more of it" he said, burying his head in the crook of your neck. he placed soft kisses on your neck before sucking on the skin.
"be gentle." you whispered in his ear, pulling him back up to face you. he nodded, turning you around and guiding you against the shower wall.
"tell me if it gets too much." he said, kissing your cheek as he held his dick, guiding it back to you. his dick slipped in much more easily this time, his cum lubricating.
true to his word, nate was more gentle, thrusting softly against your ass. his hands went to massage your breasts. when you turned your head back to look at him, he brought a hand to your face again to kiss you.
"you're so pretty." he'd mutter against your lips, looking passionately into your eyes, thrusting slightly faster but still soft to reach another high. your shared orgasm came quicker this time from your heightened sensitivity. nate opted to finish on your back this time, his cum quickly being washed away by the running water.
nate turned you around again, this time to face him as he kissed you for what felt like the hundredth time that night. it all just felt so right, like your lips were made for each other.
"pretty." nate said, moving your wet hair out of your face.
"you said that already." you laughed.
"I know, and I'm gonna keep saying it. deal with it" kissing you again to cut off further argument.
the rest of the shower served its correct purpose with you two cleaning each other off, nate shampooing your hair, and running your loofa around your body, particularly spending a lot of time cleaning off your chest.
"missed a spot." nate said, leaning down to kiss your chest.
"such a pervert you are."
"yep."
the two of you got dressed, nate putting back on his boxers as you put on a new change of underwear and a baggy shirt you'd wear to sleep.
"I have an old pair of sweatpants from dad. their pretty big on me so I rarely wear them, I end up having to tie them really tight." you said, digging through your closet. when you finally found the gray bottoms, you held it out to him. "think it'll fit?"
"yeah, I'm sure they'll be fine." he said, taking it from your hands. he got up from your bed and put them on. you felt like a pervert watching him get dressed so you looked away, turning back to your closet, blushing. you heard him laugh, "what are you turning away for? we just had sex like twice." he moved to kneel behind you, wrapping his arms around your neck.
"that's different."
"how so?"
"I don't know, watching you change just feels so... intimate." you said softly, turning your head towards him.
nate stared into your eyes before replying, "I don't mind." he removed his arms from your neck and stood up. you felt colder without his body heat. he held a hand out to you, "come on, it's late." you placed your hand on top of his, letting him pull you up.
he led you back over to your bed, where he laid down, pulling your body against his. he wrapped an arm around you as the other ran through your half-wet hair. you poked at his chest, "my hair's gonna be shit in the morning." you complained, not finishing drying your hair.
"we can deal with that tomorrow." nate assured you softly.
“you're gonna stay the night?” you asked, turning your head up to met his gaze. you were a bit afraid he’d leave you like other guys. you weren’t sure why, but nate felt different than the rest. his soft and gentle personality had pulled at your heartstrings, and you were scared of him unraveling you fully just to leave.
“of course.” he answered, leaning down to softly kiss your head. you hummed in reply, turning your head back down to his chest, quietly falling asleep.
the next morning, you awoke to your pillow feeling different. you opened your eyes and were immediately met with his chest. nate had stayed the night after all. turning your head up, your heart swelled at the sight.
his mouth was slightly open as he snored quietly. his eyes were closed and a small shadow was cast from his eyelashes. one arm was draped around you, holding you against him as the other hung off the bed. he looked at peace.
you snuggled back against his chest, kissing his skin softly. feeling you move against him, he slowly woke up as well.
“mmm, hey.” he grumbled. the arm that hung off the bed came to cage you in. he moved onto his side to cuddle you closer.
“hi,” you giggled back, “you sleep well?”
nate tilted his head down to face you, “yeah, your bed really comfortable. did you?”
“yeah, my pillow was pretty comfortable.” you both laughed at your comment, knowing what you were implying. the two of you leaned in, pecking each other softly on the lips.
before you two could continue the kiss further, you pulled away and put a finger to nate's lips. "I'm gross in the morning, let me get ready"
"you're always beautiful." he said, gently taking hold of your finger and kissing you softly again. he opened his arms up for you to crawl out of. you slowly made your way to your bathroom, sleep still having an effect on your body along with last night's activities.
nate followed behind you like a lost puppy. he brushed his teeth with you, keeping a hand on your hip. when you began to do your skin care, he wrapped his arms around you from the back, resting his head on top of yours and watching you through the mirror. he even let you put some products on his face.
by 12 pm, the two of you sat in the kitchen having a late breakfast. nate received a few texts from hollis, saying his mom was asking where he was. he wasn't too concerned; his mom thought of nate to be a smart kid who wouldn't do anything stupid, plus it was the summer where he could really drive anywhere he pleased till college started.
"I think my mom wants me home." nate said sadly, putting his head down on your kitchen table.
you patted his hair to comfort him, "thats fine, I have some stuff to do anyways."
"is this.. gonna be a one-time thing?" nate asked, looking up at you. he laid his head in his arms, almost shielding himself from rejection.
"I don't want it to be." you admitted, cupping his cheek.
"me neither." he agreed, coming up to kiss you.
the two of you went back up to your room to gather nate's belongings, sneaking in a quickie when he took off your sweatpants to switch back into his original clothes.
"text me when you get home." you leaned against your door frame.
"I will." leaning down to leave you with a goodbye kiss. he walked down your steps to his car, waving to you. you watched as he drove off.
30 minutes later, your phone buzzed off your desk, taking your attention away from your computer. it was nate.
nate
felt so grimy getting back to my clothes from last night
just got out the shower lol
you smiled at his text, an exhale coming out of your nose. you clicked on his snap to reveal his photo. his room was dark, but his phone's flash came to the rescue, showing off his shirtless body. while he tried to act nonchalant about the photo, you could read into how obvious the photo was with his shirt lying on top of his head, no effort into being put on properly. your smile widen to reveal your teeth at his teasing.
me
come back over
nate
thought you’d never ask
tags: @natesibsdih @evangelicgirll
a/n: this has been rotting in my drafts since jan 19th, I need to lock innn. I wanted to get this out and briefly proofread half of it so I hope it's alright.
sorry for being ia i kinda got too into cameron winter and he doesn't have an audience on here so i took a break. send rqs for mkgee and nate and hollis ❤️❤️
warnings: self indulgence, mentions of Covid times
summary: You and Cameron have been best friends since senior year of high-school. You've loved him for years, but have never been sure of his feelings for you. When you find your long forgotten prom dress, certain truths may come out.
word count: 2567
a/n: Silence, performative male Cameron Winter fan, a deranged girlperv who wants to have lots of sex with him is speaking, listen and learn.
I've been a Cameron girlie on the downlow for over a year now and I find it kind of disturbing how popular he's become recently. But it's kind of a good thing because it meant that he was able to come to my country recently and I got to see him solo and with Geese!! Also it will hopefully mean that there's an audience for this fic...
Finally, if you find the concept of RPF offensive, I implore you to block me and move on. I am not looking for a fight, I just want to have a good time.
Dedicated to my beautiful friend @ath3nasgard3n
Most of my worldly possessions are in cardboard boxes, stacked up in saggy piles all over my room. Cameron is stretched out on my bed, his legs covered by an ever-increasing layer of discarded clothing. Only his feet are visible, swinging to the droll beat of the Leonard Cohen song he’s playing through the speaker on the windowsill. I’m moving to a new apartment, and he claims to be helping me, but so far all he’s done is take over the music and all the space on the bed. Either way, I can’t be annoyed with him when he looks the way he does. He’s wearing a white tank top, one forearm resting under his head, exposing the veins beneath his tan skin and the thick shadow under his arm. He’s let his top ride up so I can see the dark hair on his stomach. Its completely unfair. He’s knows what he’s doing, of course he knows. I bite my tongue and keep digging through my closet.
“If you want a lover,” He drawls. “I’ll do an-y-thing you ask me to.” I can hear the smirk in his voice; feel his eyes boring into the back of me. “If you want another kind of lover-”
I launch a rolled up pair of socks at him. He’s been acting up for the last half hour, taunting me, watching me squirm. He’s being cruel and he knows it.
“That was uncalled for.” He observes the socks like Yorick’s skull.
“Don’t you ever shut up?”
“Excuse me for breathing, princess.” He throws the socks aside.
“Would it kill you to play something with a beat? I’m falling asleep over here. By the looks of it, so are you.”
“Shut up, asshole.” He changes it anyway.
Don’t have to tell your hot ass a thing
Oh yeah, you just get it
“I know you’re making fun of me, but this is actually better.”
“I knew it would be. Short people are always happier with their own kind.”
“It’s true.” I toss a glance over my shoulder. “I don’t know why I hang out with you at all, you big freak.”
He snorts and goes back to flipping through my copy of our high-school yearbook. I try to focus on what I’m doing, but I can smell him. It’s a warm, salty aroma like sourdough bread, cut by something nocturnal and animalic. I’m under no impression that it smells good to anyone but me, but that’s love, I guess.
I dig to the very back of the closet, when my fingers brush over a crust of beads. I pull the dress out and hold it up to myself in the mirror. It’s a beautiful, floor length gown from the late 90s. Empire waist, A-line, with a straight neckline and spaghetti straps. Rich, burgundy satin overlaid with soft, black tulle. Little beaded rosettes swirl over the surface from the bodice all the way to the hem… It’s a sad sight, really. I bought it on Depop back in 2020, right before everything shut down, and I never got the chance to wear it. It’s perfect, but the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh, I guess.
A low whistle interrupts my pity party.
“What?” I demand, but he just chuckles.
Without letting myself think on it, I toss the dress over his legs in the discard pile. I dive back into the wardrobe to hide my sorrow. I can hear Cameron shuffling around behind me. When I emerge, brandishing a green pea-coat I haven’t worn since sophomore year, I see he’s discarded the yearbook and is cradling the dress like a fleshless lover.
“I don’t think it’ll fit you.” He isn’t listening. He folds it up with exaggerated care, and places it into one of the keep boxes. “Cam, I’m not keeping that.”
“Well, you’re not throwing it out.”
“Who says?”
“Me.” He looks up at me, a blatant challenge on his face.
“It’s a beautiful dress, sure, but I bought it for prom. It’s like an artefact of misery.”
“Shit, really? Why didn’t you wear it to Zoom prom? You would’ve won prom queen in that thing. It looks crazy.”
“Yeah, that’s likely.” I snicker.
“Yeah.” He insists. “It is. You would have taken off those huge nerdy glasses and been the hottest… cluster of pixels in the school.”
He laughs with me, but his gaze is far away.
“Keep it.”
“No.” I put my hands on my hips. “It makes me too sad.”
He leans forward, hands on his knees, and stares deep into me. “Keep. It. Wear it to a Geese gig.”
I want to tell him why I can’t. The truth is, I love the music but I hate the scene. I hate presenting myself with the air of curated coolness that is socially demanded of me. I hate sanding down my enthusiasm into a smoother, more palatable shape. I hate pretending to like things in a sterile, unproblematic way. I hate watching others freely behave in ways that I would be subtly ridiculed for. Of course, I know why it is the way it is. All the alternative, artsy types in South Brooklyn formed their cliques in high-school; a privilege that I never had, given that I am chronically uncool. The real tragedy in life is that you can never shake off the image of yourself that formed in high school, and by the time you realise that fact it is already far too late to change anything. To those people, I will always be Cameron’s weird, autistic straggler that he picked up during Covid and has never been able to shake from his orbit. So, when I’m at a Geese gig, I have to dress casual, but still cool. I have to use my clothes to project this idea that I don’t really give that much of a fuck about him. I have to agonise over the minutia of my appearance, never wearing anything better than the sum of my face, body, and status.
I want to tell him, I really do, but it’s not 1am on VR chat, so I just say “I can’t. It’d get torn up in the mosh.”
“You don’t go in the mosh.”
“That’s not the point.”
He leans in a little closer, a smirk scrunching the side of his face.
“Keep it, for me.”
I want to say ‘no,’ but he’s here, and he has those big brown eyes, and how could I ever do that to him? I cross my arms and muster a fierce frown.
“Fine.”
*
He’s been quiet and cagey in the days since we last saw each other, which in Cameron’s world could mean one of two things: either he’s writing a song and the lyrics are eating him alive, or he’s talking to a new girl.
The latter has happened a handful of times since we became friends. It goes the same way every time: first, he gets distant for a week or two, hedging his bets on the best way to tell me, because he knows how I feel. Of course he knows. He must know. Then, either he breaks the news to me, or the girl finds out he has a girl best friend and freaks out on him, which is justifiable, given the circumstances. After that, he tries to get us all together, I tell him I’ll play nice and I fail, we fall out for couple of weeks, maybe a month, and then they break up and he goes back to normal. In a strange way, I find the whole process morbidly comforting. At the end of it, when he’s back in my arms and he’s telling me how sorry he is, and that he should never have pushed me aside, it’s a bliss unlike anything I’ve ever known. I can almost pretend he loves me too.
I’ve been telling myself that I’m trying not to think about stuff like that, but I’m already poking at the idea like a sore tooth, and I’ve let myself fall into a state of disarray. There’s still boxes all over the new apartment, my hair is a mess, my t-shirt is stained, there’s takeaway packets stacked on the kitchen bench, and all I can bring myself to do is sit around and worry about all the stuff I should be doing.
Eventually, he does come back to bother me in the form of a mid-morning Discord call, which frightens the hell out of me, but at least he’s here.
“What are you doing? Right now?” He sounds agitated, talking faster than I’ve ever heard.
“Unpacking my junk, why?”
“You’re playing Red Dead, asshole.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Nahmnat.” He mimics. “What’s nine plus ten?”
“Shut up.” I snicker.
“So what I’m hearing is you’re not busy.”
“I’m super busy.” I hear a breathy chuckle on the line.
“Buzz me in.”
“Huh?”
“Open ne noor.”
“Fuck you, dude.”
I pause Red Dead and buzz him in. I book it to the bathroom to make myself look somewhat presentable in the thirty seconds before he arrives, but I’m fighting a losing battle. Most of my clothes are still packed away so I wind up wearing this huge Knicks sweatshirt I stole from my brother when he went off to college, and these stupid little shorts that disappear underneath it. My hair is so fucked up that I just tie it up and hope for the best. I’m midway through a haphazard attempt at covering the dark circles under my eyes when I hear him knocking.
“Just a minute!” I shriek, trying to fix my eyebrows.
Oh-woah-ohoh-oh.
I can hear music from under the door.
Oh-woah-ohoh-oh.
Mascara in one hand and a foot in my mouth, I open the door and nearly trip on the speaker he’s set up.
You know you love me, I know you care.
Just shout whenever, and I’ll be there.
There he is, looking strangely formal in a button down and black jeans, his hands clasped behind his back like he’s wandering around a museum. There are dark moon shadows under his eyes, and his lips are chapped and bitten. Though he looks like he hasn’t slept since we last saw each other, he’s clean shaven and even his hair is pushed neatly behind his ears. I want to reach up there and mess it up. He grins at me, a skittish, lopsided expression, but so fond, so familiar; and for just a moment I feel like the prettiest girl in the world. Before I’m quite finished ogling him, he produces a cardboard sign from behind his back and holds it up to my scrutiny. He chews on his lip.
<3 WILL YOU GO TO PROM WITH ME? <3
“You better say ‘yes,’ I was up all night learning how to draw that sheep thing you like.”
“Cameron, what the hell...”I murmur, dazed.
His drawing of My Sweet Piano sits on the corner of the page, looking like a misshapen clump of cotton candy with a lopsided face, but I don’t mind. In fact, I think it’s the cutest drawing of her I’ve ever seen. When I notice what he’s drawn next to her, I gasp, feeling my eyes welling with unwanted tears. A sloppy representation of Snoopy stands next to her, brandishing a blobby bouquet of roses and kissing Miss Piano’s cheek with his big, round nose. Cameron leans over to inspect the sign, his hair flopping down onto his face.
And I was like baby, baby, baby, oh,
Like baby, baby, baby no!
“Hey, man, don’t cry.” He says, concerned. He’s never been very comfortable with my emotional theatrics. “I worked really hard on that.”
I bite down on my lip. Hard. It helps me swallow the lump in my throat.
“What is this?”
He chuckles, breathy and a little anxious.
“Well, I never really knew how bummed you were about prom until I came over the other day. So, I looked around, and apparently Baby’s are having a 2020 throwback night on Saturday. I figured I could dust off the tux, y’know, make it up to you…” He trails off, his cheeks tinting pink.
“Cam.” My voice cracks and one stupid tear makes a break for it, sprinting down my cheek.
“Oh, God, Allison! Shit-” He drops the sign and I’m in his arms before the first sob hits my body. “Shh. Shh! It’s okay.”
“M’sorry.” I say, face pressed to his heart.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He insists, patting my hair a little to quickly. His fingers catch in a tangle, making me jump. A nervous giggle escapes him. “Sorry, princess… Not the reaction I was hoping for.”
“Camembert…” I whisper.
“Haven’t called me that in a while, huh?”
I shake my head against his chest, nuzzling in closer.
“Oh, yeah, just get right in there.” He grumbles. “It’s not like this is a nice shirt or anything.”
I suppress another sob and try to pull back, but he catches me and squeezes me tight against him.
“It’s okay.” He whispers. “I don’t mind.”
For a moment, he stands very still, as if weighing some huge decision, then he ducks down and pecks the top of my head. It makes me shudder, and my grip on the back of his shirt tightens. The trouble with Cam is that when I get a hold of him, it’s very hard to let go.
“So, I’m gonna take this as a ‘yes…?’”
I manage to lift up my head and look up at him, my chin resting on his chest. He’s so close. If I acted fast, I could probably get my lips onto his before he knew what was happening. I don’t do it, of course. I just nod.
“Yeah.” My voice wavers as though he’s shaking me by the shoulders. I clear my throat and he laughs at me.
“YeEaAh,” He mimics.
“Shut u-UP!” I shriek, but it only makes him laugh harder.
“Have you ever had a dream that you, um, you had, your, you- you could-”
“Stop!” I should be mad, but I can barely catch my breath through my laughter. I’ve stopped crying, and he seems pretty relieved.
“I’ll pick you up at seven?” He asks, still shaking with the last of his giggles.
“Sure.”
He finally turns off the speaker and puts it back in his bag. He moves to take back the sign that somehow wound up on the floor.
“Can’t I keep it?”
He gives me a withering look, sighs, and leaves it wear it is.
“Fine, but don’t show anyone.”
“Can I show Emily?”
“What did I just say?”
“Fine.” I throw my hands up in surrender. “Anyway, what are you doing for the rest of the day?”
“Hitting the thrift with Dom. I need a decent shirt for Friday and he’s looking for a birthday present for Piper.”
“She’s so cool…”
“Yeah, I don’t know how the hell Dominic bagged her.”
“I think they’re cute together.” I shrug. “Anyway, you mind if I walk down with you? I want to pick up some press-ons.”
“If you must.” He rolls his eyes, but I can tell he’s kidding. He pats my head and messes up my already tangled hair. “Put some pants on though, it’s freezing out there.”
tags: fem!reader x softdom!chessa, body worship (obvi), making out, fingering, oral (reader receiving), mirror play in a sense, mommy kink on her end 😳
w/c: 1.6k !
“Wow, that looks…” Chessa pauses as she admires you head to toe. The both of you decided to spend your day shopping, going to the mall with friends and buying whatever your heart desired. Now you were showing each other what you had bought in a playing dress up fashion.
“Is it cute?” you ask, wanting a verbal answer rather than watching her stare at you with a slacked jaw. The pink and black polka dot babydoll lingerie you were in that you had bought caused her brain to short circuit.
“It’s more than ‘cute’.” she says breathlessly, getting up from her seat on the bed to approach you. “So pretty, you’re so pretty” She adds as she wraps her arms around your waist.
You grin as you glance up at her, admiring her features for a moment before meeting her gaze. The way she looks at you feels as if she can see inside your mind and hear your thoughts. Like how gorgeous the warm hue the bedside lamp casts in the room highlights her looks. Like how badly you want her lips to be on yours.
As if hearing your thoughts, she backs away, her comforting touch leaving you in seconds, causing you to shiver. Her eyes never leave yours. She gently grabs hold of your wrist and leads you to the full body mirror attached to the inside of the walk in closet door.
You stare at your reflection. The lingerie really did look good on you. Chessa stands behind you, her presence making you feel impatient that she’s only standing there and watching you through the mirror. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding once she allows her hands to slowly run down the sides of your body. She leans forward slightly, her chest just barely against your back as her lips ghost your skin. It was as if you were something so fragile that she couldn’t get enough of.
Her nimble fingers trace the thin material along your stomach. Fingers brushing the smooth skin, causing your breath to hitch. “You’re so beautiful, baby” she mumbles, her lips against your neck as she starts to slowly kiss the skin. You feel her grin slightly when you shiver at the feeling. You didn’t know how to respond, words getting caught in your throat at how aroused you felt.
Chessa took in a deep breath before the slow, gentle kisses turn into starved, open mouthed ones. A quiet whimper escapes your lips at the feeling of knowing all these possessive deep marks she’s purposefully leaving will show in the morning. Her hands have not once left your body, gently tracing up and down your torso just until where you need her most before she drags her touch back up.
Her free hand comes up to your covered breasts. Thumb brushing the fabric against the hard bud as she continues to suck on your neck. You let your eyes flutter shut and drown in the pleasure she’s giving you. She knew your body like the back of her hand. As if she studied you. The sweet spot below your ear she always kissed. How you liked how roughly she’d sometimes hold your waist and hips. Overall, she loved your body. And she was more than happy to worship it with everything in her.
Her eyes look at you in the mirror, admiring you in the lingerie but she can’t help but want more of whats underneath it. You gasp as you feel her fingers dip underneath the strap on your shoulder as she begins to pull them down. She pulls the lingerie down until it’s pooled at the bottom of your feet, leaving you in your panties. “Y/N…” she mumbled against your neck to which you hum.
“I want you to watch”
Obediently, you open your eyes. “Good girl..” she coos before cupping your delicate breast in her palm, kneading the soft mound. You can feel yourself getting wetter with each moment passing by. “Chessa…” you practically whine, pleading for more.
“Look at you. My impatient pretty girl..” Her words were quiet, but with only the two of you in the room, she knew you could hear every word. She continues the gentle assault on your neck, licking over that sweet spot that nearly causes your eyed to roll back.
Despite how impatient you felt, you loved how Chessa would worship you. It made you feel truly cherished.
She let the fingers on her free hand dip underneath the waistband of your lace panties. You feel your heart beat quicken as her fingers slip through your slick folds. “So wet f’me” she mumbles, her eyes never leaving your face as she watches your expression shift.
Her fingers circle your sensitive clit repeatedly, causing you to shiver and let out a breathy moan. “Chessa..” you groan, all the pleasure you’re receiving mixed with her words sending you into a spiral. Chessa knew it wasn’t only her actions that turn you on, it was her words. She knew what to say and when to say it.
“What is it, baby?” she practically whispers in your ear. The two of you make eye contact once more in the mirror as your lips part but nothing comes out. You place one of your hands on top of hers thats dipped into your panties, trying to silently plead for what you need as the words get stuck in your throat.
“Ah, use your words, sweet girl” she mutters, using her hand the was fondling your breast to pull your hand off as she rubs tight circles against your clit.
“Need y-you” she grind at your whimper.
“Need me for? How should I worship you, hm?” Your eyes flutter shut once more at her words. “I want…I want your fingers..”
She watches through the mirror as you pant, body pliant against hers. Your hips roll forward, trying to meet the movements of her fingers before she dips two fingers lower and teasingly circling over your entrance.
“Then what?” Chessa questions. She lets go of your hand to cup your jaw, lips slightly squished together as the grasp deepens once she inserts her fingers into you. Two fingers thrusting in and out of you at a slow, teasing pace.
You’re a mess of whimpers and moans, completely forgetting she asked you a question as you’re so lost in the feeling. Chessa admires how she has you in the mirror. Thighs slightly trembling, back arched, head against her shoulder with your neck already forming deep, purple bruises.
She quickens the pace just slightly but it causes you to lose your mind. Her palm repeatedly hitting against your clit with each thrust. “Answer me, Y/N” she mumble in your ear before nibbling on the lobe.
“I-I want your mouth..” You force out between shallow pants.
Just as she feels you about to reach your orgasm, she pulls her hand away completely. Leaving you a wet mess between your thighs as you whine.
“No whining, get on the bed, baby” she presses a kiss to the back of your neck before patting your hip.
With slightly shaky legs, you make your way towards the bed and lay flat on your back in the center of the mattress. Within seconds, Chessa is crawling on top of you with a smile as she starts pressing kisses everywhere from your face to your chest. Pausing at your lips so she can finally connect her lips with yours to taste you. The kiss begins gently, just a couple slow pecks before turning into your tongue fighting hers for dominance. She pulls back just enough so she can look at you, brows furrowed, lips swollen, eyes half open. She has you right where she wants you.
Her lips trail down your jaw, all you can do in this situation is wrap your fingers in her hair and moan quietly. “So beautiful” she murmurs against your stomach. “All for me, mine” her kisses become less frantic as she reaches your lower stomach, the slow movement causing you to prop yourself up on your shoulders and watch.
Her eyes meet yours as her fingers curl beneath the waistband on either side of your hips, carefully pulling them down to reveal your aching core. Chessa starts to press gentle kisses along your inner thighs, maneuvering your legs until your legs are over her shoulders.
“Mommy, please..fuck” The anticipation was killing you and you knew what she was going to eventually want to hear. You watch as her cheeks deepen in color at the pet name. Her swollen lips gently kiss your clit before licking a stripe along your entrance.
Within minutes you can feel your orgasm rebuilding. The knot in your stomach tightening as Chessa brings two fingers to your entrance and starts fucking into you again as her tongue stimulates your clit. You arch your back, gripping the roots of her hair harshly just to keep her where she is.
“I-I’m close!” Mommy..Chessa, please..” you babble, repeatedly cursing over and over again under your breath as something in you pops. You moan loudly, heart racing as you pant while coming down from your high.
“Such a good girl, baby. So good f’me” You hear Chessa mumble as she crawls back up to lay on top of you, pressing kisses to your neck while she nuzzles her face in. “You looked so pretty in that lingerie..”
tags: drinking, lots of drinking, unprotected sex, wall sex, public sex
las vegas. 2025.
roman ushers the rest of his group into a booth of the hotel bar. hollis sits down besides roman, eyes trailing around the sights. the lights are overwhelming, there are too many people around, and he really just wants to sleep at this point of the day.
nate is mid conversation about the crowd that day, what he liked and what he didn’t like. that’s when you appear.black leather bra. matching miniskirt. a smile that looks like it’s been sharpened on purpose. “what can i get y’all to drink?”
you had a sweet voice, one that broke through his endless thoughts about the moment. he goes to speak but roman is already cutting in, voice as flirtatious as hollis has ever heard it. “i’ll have a tequila.”
you arch a brow. “brave.”
roman laughs too loud. you don’t flinch.
you turn to hollis. really look at him. he forgets what he was going to say. “uh,” he manages. “a beer?”
when you come back, you set the glasses down like punctuation. roman’s tequila, neat and mean. nate vodka. hollis’s drink is amber and unfamiliar and dangerous-looking.
“trust me,” you say.
he does. eyes trained on your ass as he takes the first drink.
it burns in a way that feels intentional. he coughs. you grin like that was the point, watching.
you linger longer than you’re supposed to. half leaning against the booth, bracelets clicking every time you move. another girl shoots you a look from behind the bar. you mouth two minutes. she rolls her eyes.
hollis learns things about you in fragments. you hate this song. you love the one before it. you’ve been on your feet since noon. you can tell when someone’s lying by how fast they order their second drink. you learn he played earlier. you just say, “figured.”
roman disappears first. then nate. suddenly it’s just the two of you and a table full of empty glasses. the world narrows. at some point he’s started buying you drinks. ordering two for himself and sliding you the extra.
you’re drunk. he’s worse.
your shift technically ends an hour ago. you ignore that. you sway when you stand. the room tilts sideways, friendly and cruel all at once. you reach for the booth, miss it. hollis’s hand is there, steady and warm.
“whoa,” he says.
“i’m fine,” you insist, smiling like you’re trying to convince yourself too.
you don’t let go of his hand right away.
“you can crash in my room” he says, already moving. it’s not a question.
the elevator mirrors are brutal. you fix your lipstick with your finger, smear it a little. hollis looks everywhere except your mouth. the doors open onto a quiet hallway that feels like it doesn’t belong to the same night.
halfway down, you kick off your heels and carry them by the straps. “hate these,” you say. “love the idea of them.”
he laughs, soft, like he’s afraid of being heard.
at his door, he fumbles with the key, muttering apologies to no one. you lean against the wall, suddenly aware of everything: the buzz in your head, the quiet in your chest, the fact that you are very drunk and very far from the bar.
the door finally opens.
inside, the room glows with vegas light leaking through the curtains. unreal. like a set. you drop your shoes by the desk and sit on the edge of the bed like you’ve done this a hundred times, even though you haven’t.
he offers you water. you shake your head. “later.”
he pops open the bottle of wine on the dresser, taking a drink. you reach out but he tuts, “not for you. you’re too drunk. for me.” you whine.
you fall back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. the room spins just enough to feel good.
“you okay?” he asks.
“yeah,” you say, smiling up at him. honest. loose. “just drunk.”
“me too.” he grins, downing more of the wine.
you hum, turning on your hip and looking him up and down. he’s hot, so hot that you’re frustrated. “i don’t usually do this but…”
“me neither.” he admits with a small laugh. he sits down on the bed next to you, so properly tipsy at this point that the room is starting so spin. one thing is undeniable, how hot you are.
you lean in with no hesitation, melting into his lips.
you gasp as he yanks the fabric up over your hips, exposing your thighs to the cool air. no time for niceties; his fingers hook into your panties and tear them aside, the rip echoing in the haze.
“fuck, you're soaked,” he growls, voice slurred but hungry, and before you can respond, he's shoving two fingers inside you, pumping hard and fast. your body arches, nails digging into his shoulders, the burn of alcohol making every thrust feel amplified, messy.
he doesn't wait, doesn't ask. his belt clinks open, pants shoved down just enough, and then his cock is there—thick, hard, pressing against your entrance. you wrap your legs around him, pulling him in, and he slams forward, burying himself to the hilt in one drunken thrust.
the stretch is brutal, perfect, your walls clenching around him as he starts rutting into you like he can't get deep enough. sweat slicks your skin, mixing with the spilled drinks from earlier, making everything slippery and chaotic.
“god, yes,” you moan, head thrown back, the headboard banging against the wall with each snap of his hips. he's everywhere—hands gripping your ass, lifting you to meet him harder, his mouth sucking bruises into your collarbone.
you claw at his back, leaving red trails, the pain spurring him on. he pulls out almost all the way, then drives back in, the wet slap of flesh filling the room, your juices coating his shaft, dripping down your thighs.
you roll your hips up, meeting his frenzy, the bed creaking under the assault. he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand, the other sliding between you to rub rough circles over your clit. it's too much, the pressure building fast in the drunken blur, your body trembling as you come undone, crying out his name (“hollis, hollis”) waves crashing through you, squeezing him tight.
he doesn't stop, pounding through your orgasm, chasing his own. “shit, i'm gonna—” he grunts, and then he's spilling inside you, hot pulses filling you up, his body shuddering against yours.
he collapses half on top of you, both panting, sticky and spent, the room spinning from the booze and the high.
minutes pass in the afterglow, his head on your chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. then, out of nowhere, in that slurry voice, he lifts his head, eyes glassy but earnest. “fuck- you’re so fucking perfect. you should like fucking… marry me.” he says, like it's the most natural thing after this wild night. 'right now, in this crazy city. be mine.'
your heart stutters, but the whiskey whispers yes, and so do you. “yeah,” you breathe, pulling him close. “let's do it. why the fuck not.”
the words hang there, ridiculous and holy and wrong in the way that feels right at three in the morning.
he laughs first, breathless, like he can’t believe he said it. then he doesn’t take it back.
instead, he kisses your collarbone, soft now, reverent. “i’m serious,” he mumbles. “i don’t ever say shit like that.”
you sit up a little, the room smelling of sex. the air feels thinner. louder. like vegas itself.
“hollis,” you say, testing his name in your mouth. it tastes dangerous. “you don’t even know my last name.”
he squints, thinking hard, like this is the one flaw in an otherwise flawless plan. “we’ll learn it,” he says. “after.”
you laugh too loud, too bright. and it cracks something open in your chest. the idea settles in, heavy and electric. not forever. just now. just this version of yourselves, sticky and drunk and unreal.
“okay,” you say again, because saying no feels harder. “okay.”
he’s suddenly all motion, scrambling off the bed, nearly tripping. grabbing his phone. “there’s, like… there’s chapels everywhere here. my friend's sister did it once. or twice.”
you watch him pace, barefoot, blond hair wild, talking to himself and to you at the same time. it should be embarrassing. it isn’t. it feels like jumping off something tall and trusting the air.
you pull back on your skirt with his shirt from the floor.
“are you gonna regret this?” you ask, half-joking, half-not.
he stops. looks at you. really looks. his face goes soft in a way that feels dangerous.
“maybe,” he says. “but not tonight.”
the elevator ride is quiet and hysterical all at once. you lean into him, forehead against his shoulder. he smells like sweat and soap and something electric. he keeps whispering, “this is insane,” like a prayer.
the chapel is small and too bright and smells like carpet cleaner. a bored woman with perfect eyeliner doesn’t blink when you tell her what you want. she’s seen worse. she’s seen everything.
“rings?” she asks.
you look at each other.
he pulls an expensive silver band off his pinky. you offer a cheap chain necklace. the woman shrugs. “works.”
she flips a laminated booklet open, pages sticking together, and gestures for you to stand closer. the chapel lights buzz overhead, too bright, too sober. everything smells like cleaner and old flowers and bad decisions.
you sway a little. hollis grabs your elbow, misses, laughs, steadies you anyway.
“hi,” he whispers, like he just noticed you again.
“hi,” you say back, and it feels huge.
the woman starts talking. vows. legal language. words that should mean something. they slide right off you. hollis squeezes your hand too hard, then apologizes, then does it again. you’re giggling for no reason. your head is floating somewhere above your body.
“do you—” the woman begins.
“yes,” hollis blurts, way too fast.
she sighs. “sir, i haven’t finished.”
“sorry,” he says, grinning, eyes glassy. he leans toward you. “i just—yeah.”
you nod along to questions you don’t fully hear. at one point you think you’re supposed to repeat something and instead you say, “fuck,” softly, reverently. the woman doesn’t react.
hollis tries to slide the ring on your finger and drops it. it clinks against the floor. all three of you stare at it.
“five second rule,” you say, crouching badly to pick it up. you almost fall over. hollis laughs so hard he has to hold onto the podium.
when you finally get it on, it’s cold and loose and wrong and perfect. he presses the necklace chain into your palm and you fumble with it, fingers useless, eventually just looping it around his finger twice and declaring it done.
“that good?” you ask.
“beautiful,” he says, absolutely serious.
the woman clears her throat. “by the power vested in me by the state of nevada—”
hollis hiccups.
“i now pronounce you—”
you lean into hollis. he leans into you. you’re both holding each other up.
“—married.”
there’s a beat. silence. then hollis laughs again, wild and shocked, like someone just told him a secret about himself.
“holy shit,” he says. “we did it.”
you clap once. “we did it.”
he kisses you, sloppy and unbalanced, almost missing your mouth. you don’t care. someone, maybe the woman, maybe a ghost, takes a photo. the flash goes off too close, burns white behind your eyes.
“sign here,” the woman says, sliding papers toward you.
hollis squints at the clipboard like it’s written in another language. you scribble something that might be your name. it definitely isn’t legible.
“congratulations,” she says, already done with you.
outside, the neon hits harder. louder. hollis spins you once, too fast. you stumble into his chest, laughing, breathless, married and drunk and untethered. he pushes you against the white brick wall of the chapel, kissing you again.
“fuck– fuck–” he mutters against your lips, picking your leg up and wrapping it around his waist. someone could easily catch you two but you were both too gone to notice.
his hand slips under your skirt, slipping between your folds instantly. still wet, some of his cum from before still leaking between them.
“we’re gonna have to be quiet baby.” he whispers in your ear, pulling his pants down just enough that his cock can slip out.
“keep me quiet then.” you respond, crashing your lips against his as his cock re-enters you. there’s less of a stretch than before, still slick when the remnants from before. you bite down on his lip as he starts to move.
your arms move up to his shoulders, nails scratching up his back. his hand reaches under your dress to cup at your ass, greedily spreading the cheeks and playing with the flesh.
his thrusts start slow, deliberate, each one pushing his thick cock deeper into your soaked pussy, the slick mix of your arousal and his earlier load making obscene wet sounds that echo faintly against the brick.
the neon lights flicker overhead, casting erratic glows across his flushed face as he grinds against you, his hips snapping forward with growing urgency. you clench around him, your walls fluttering from the overstimulation, but it only spurs him on—he groans low into your mouth, swallowing your whimpers as his tongue invades, tasting the liquor on your breath.
the risk hangs heavy in the air; distant laughter from wedding guests spills out from the chapel doors, footsteps crunching on gravel nearby. hollis’s grip tightens on your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he spreads you wider, angling his cock to hit that spot inside that makes your vision blur.
“shhhh, that's it,” he breathes, his voice rough and commanding, even as his own control frays.
he pulls back just enough to watch your face twist in pleasure, then slams in hard, the force jolting your back against the rough white bricks.
you arch into him, your leg locked around his waist pulling him impossibly closer, nails raking red trails down his back through his shirt. his free hand snakes up, shoving the neckline of your shirt aside to expose one breast, his mouth latching onto the hardened nipple. he’s too drunk to care if anyone could see. he sucks hard, teeth grazing the sensitive peak, while his cock pistons relentlessly, stretching you full with every plunge. cum from before squelches out around his shaft, dripping down your thigh.
“god, you're so fucking tight still,” he growls against your skin, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before claiming your lips again.
his pace quickens, hips bucking erratically now, chasing release as your pussy milks him greedily. you feel the coil tightening low in your belly, the drunkenness amplifying every sensation.
he pounds into you faster, it becomes sloppier and messier. his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. your leg begins to shake, him having to hold on to you tighter to keep you up.
the pressure builds until it snaps. you shatter around him first, your orgasm ripping through you in waves, pussy spasming and gushing over his cock. he follows seconds later, burying himself to the hilt as he cums, hot spurts flooding you, overflowing and trickling down your legs.
he pulls out, tucking himself back in his pants. the cum is dripping down your legs, it’s obvious for anyone that could see it. he gives an embarrassed laugh, shy about what just happened.
“we should go back inside.” he says breathlessly, watching as you use your hand to clean yourself up. you nod and grab his hand, giggling as he leads you back to his hotel room.
you don’t wake up together that morning. you had to get to work early
but you don’t disappear either.
it starts small. stupid, even.
hollis finds your number scribbled in his phone under “wife???” with three question marks. he stares at it for a full minute before texting:
hey. this is hollis. vegas hollis. sorry if this is weird.
you reply ten minutes later:
kind of insane actually. thought i hallucinated you.
that makes him laugh out loud on the bus, earning a look from roman.
the annulment window comes and goes because neither of you rushes it. paperwork gets delayed. management freaks out quietly. nothing explodes. everything just… exists.
you call each other at odd hours. hotel rooms. smoke breaks. parking lots. you talk about nothing. you talk about everything except the chapel. when you finally do talk about it, it’s casual.
the afterparty was exactly how you expected, copy and paste instagram model types fiending after a glimpse at hollis, loud music that all sounded a bit too similar, and as many drinks as you could possibly want.
you search through the sea of faces, looking for hollis. he’s not hard to find, as your best friend said. he’s tall and obvious and… alone.
he spots you before you reach him, his face breaking into something genuine and familiar. “there she is,” he says, like he was half-expecting you to vanish before he could confirm it was really you. “you survive the crowd?”
“barely,” you say. “i forgot how loud these things get.”
he laughs, leaning back against the bar. “you should’ve seen the one in nashville. felt like my brain was rattling around in my skull.”
“tour’s been insane,” he says. “we did this titanic museum thing in tennessee. have you ever been to one of those?”
you blink. “yeah, nate told me about it.”
“it was awesome,” he nods, animated now. “like, full recreations, the staircase, the fake iceberg, the whole thing. nate was weirdly into it despite complaining the whole time.”
you smile despite yourself. “that tracks.”
“i went with him,” hollis continues, casual, “and my girl. she was obsessed. kept making jokes about who’d survive.”
something clicks in your chest, sharp and cold.
his girl.
your mind flashes unhelpfully to the instagram story. the angle. the hair. the way the girl had leaned in like she belonged there. shit. it was probably just hollis’ girl in that damn picture. not nate’s.
you swallow. “yeah?”
hollis nods, totally oblivious to the shift in you. “yeah. she’s cool. met her on the road. kind of just… happened.”
you force your voice steady, hiding the sudden guilt. “sounds… nice.”
there’s a beat. hollis studies you more closely now.
“so,” he says, deliberately casual, “how’s your boyfriend?”
you shrug, remembering the lie you gave nate. “he’s out of town.”
hollis’s eyebrows lift, just slightly. something brightens behind his eyes, like a switch flipping on. “oh,” he says. “is he.”
“yeah,” you repeat. “work thing.”
he grins, already pushing off the bar. “come with me.”
“hollis—”
too late. he’s guiding you through the crowd, hand light at your elbow, weaving like he knows exactly where he’s going. and then you see him.
nate.
he’s standing near a table littered with empty glasses, laughing at something someone says, hair a mess, sleeves pushed up. he looks too good, in that effortless way that makes your stomach drop.
he sees you and stills. not dramatically—just enough that you notice. hollis claps a hand on his shoulder.
“look who i found,” hollis says, pleased with himself.
nate’s eyes flick to hollis, then back to you. something unreadable passes over his face before he schools it into a soft smile.
“hey,” he says.
“hey.”
it’s awkward. it’s loaded. it’s everything you didn’t say to each other before he left.
nate gestures to the bar. “what are you drinking?”
you tell him. he gets it without another word, careful, attentive in a way that makes your chest ache. when he hands it to you, your fingers brush. it feels louder than the music.
“i’m sorry,” he says quietly, once hollis has drifted a few feet away, pretending very badly not to be listening. “for leaving like that. tour got crazy fast. i didn’t mean to disappear on you.”
“i should’ve called more,” he adds. “i think i didn’t want to admit how hard it was.”
you look up at him then. “what was?”
“leaving,” he says simply. “you.”
the music swells. the party keeps moving around you. hollis watches from a distance, satisfied, like this is exactly how he meant for the night to go.
nate lingers beside you, shoulder angled in, voice lowered so only you can hear him.
“do you want to get out of here?” he asks. not rushed. not cocky. careful, like he’s offering you an exit and a beginning at the same time.
you glance past him— at hollis, who pretends not to watch, at the crowd that keeps pressing in, at the night that feels too loud to hold anything honest.
“where?” you ask, even though you already know.
he hesitates, then: “my place. if that’s okay. you don’t have to. i just—” a breath. “i don’t want to keep shouting apologies over this shitty music.”
he takes your purse from the chair, holds it out for you. it’s such a small thing that it almost knocks the wind out of you.
outside, the sky is dark and the air is warm. the noise drops away. nate walks close but not touching, like he’s relearning your shape in real time. his car waits at the curb, lights blinking patiently.
the drive is quiet, city sliding by in soft streaks. you notice how he signals every turn, how his hand tightens on the wheel when he’s thinking. you notice how you’re holding your breath.
“i wanted to bring you over here… before,” he says, like he’s confessing something mild and monumental at once.
“before what?”
“before all of it,” he shrugs. “before it got complicated.”
you hum.
his house is understated. not flashy. warm light in the windows. you step inside and it smells like coffee and clean laundry and something woody you can’t place. records line the wall. all his equipment is on the dining room table.
“sorry,” he says, suddenly shy. “it’s a mess.”
it isn’t. it’s him.
he watches you like he’s waiting to see if you’ll stay.
“i didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says again, softer now, as if the house has asked him to be honest. “i didn’t know how to balance it. i still don’t. but i want to learn.”
you turn to face him. he’s closer than you expect, eyes steady, searching. the room hums with everything you haven’t said.
“i don’t need perfect,” you say. “i need present.”
he nods. “i can do that.”
for a moment, neither of you moves. then he gestures toward the couch. “sit with me?”
you do.
the night stretches. the city fades. and for the first time, in this quiet house you’ve never seen before, it feels like the story might finally slow down enough to tell the truth.
you pause, remembering that you have work tomorrow morning. a sigh. “i can’t stay long.”
he nods, breath baited. “i want to see you again.”
“i know, me too. we’ll make it work. i promise.”
he leans in again, placing his big hand on your cheek. “let me claim you before you go back to your boyfriend’s, please.”
his hand finds yours on the cushion between you, fingers threading slow, like he's testing the weight of the promise. the touch sends a spark up your arm, warm and insistent, cutting through the quiet hum of the house. outside, the city's distant pulse fades further, leaving just the two of you in this space—his space, with a faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air, mixed with something woodsy and lived-in.
you shift closer, knee brushing his thigh. the couch dips under the movement, pulling you in. his eyes drop to your mouth, then back up, dark and unguarded. “you okay with this, angel?”
you nod, leaning in, and his free hand cups your jaw, gentle at first, tilting your face to his. the kiss starts soft—lips brushing—but it builds fast, hunger breaking through like a dam cracking. you taste the faint bitterness of his drink from earlier, mixed with the salt of his skin as your mouths open, tongues sliding together in a rhythm that's been waiting too long.
you climb into his lap without thinking, straddling him, the heat of his body pressing up against yours through thin fabric. his hands slide to your hips, gripping firm, pulling you down so your core grinds against the growing hardness in his jeans. a low groan escapes him into your mouth, vibrating through you, and you rock forward, chasing the friction, the ache building low in your belly.
“fuck,” he breathes when you break apart for air, foreheads touching. his fingers dig into your sides, bunching your shirt up, exposing skin to the cool air. you tug at his too, yanking it over his head in one messy motion, revealing the lean lines of his chest, the faint trail of hair leading down. your hands roam, nails scraping lightly over his shoulders, down his arms.
he doesn't waste time—his mouth latches onto your neck, sucking hard enough to mark, teeth grazing as he works lower, pushing your top aside to kiss along your collarbone. you arch into it, fingers threading through his hair, holding him there while your hips keep moving, grinding slow and deliberate against his cock straining through denim. the pressure builds, wet heat soaking your panties, and you whimper when his hand slips under your skirt, fingers finding your thigh, inching higher.
“you feel so good,” he mutters against your skin, voice rough, as his fingers brush the edge of your underwear, teasing the damp fabric. you lift up just enough for him to slide them aside, and then he's there, two fingers pressing into your pussy, slick and easy, curling just right to make your breath hitch. you clench around him, riding his hand while his thumb circles your clit, steady pressure that has you gasping, head falling back.
the couch creaks under you as you move faster, chasing the edge, but it's not enough. you fumble with his belt, popping the button on his jeans, shoving them down with his help. his cock springs free, thick and hard, tip already glistening. you wrap your hand around it, stroking firm from base to head, and he bucks up into your grip, a curse slipping from his lips.
“need you nate,” you say, voice breaking, positioning yourself over him. he nods, hands guiding your hips down, and you sink onto his cock inch by inch, stretching around him, the fullness making you moan loud and unfiltered. he fills you completely, hot and throbbing, and you pause for a second, adjusting, both of you breathing ragged.
you start moving—up and down, slow at first, savoring the drag, the way he hits deep inside. his hands grip your ass, helping the rhythm, pulling you harder onto him with each thrust. the slap of skin on skin mixes with your gasps, his grunts, the crunch of the couch cushion. sweat beads on his chest, and you lean down to lick it off, tasting the salt, while he thrusts up to meet you, harder now, relentless.
it builds like a storm. your clit grinding against his pelvis with every drop, his cock pulsing inside you, fingers bruising your hips. you kiss him messy, all teeth and tongue, and he flips you suddenly, pinning you beneath him on the cushions without pulling out. the new angle lets him drive deeper, pounding into your pussy with short, sharp thrusts that make stars burst behind your eyes.
“come for me,” he growls, one hand slipping between you to rub your clit fast and rough. it's too much. the pressure, the heat, the way he looks at you like you're everything. you shatter around him, walls clenching tight, crying out as waves crash through you, soaking him further.
he follows seconds later, burying himself deep with a final thrust, cock twitching as he cums inside you, hot and spilling. his body slumps over yours, both of you panting, tangled and spent.
you lean against the couch, wiping a bead of sweat from your head. “i want to see you again. i want to make this work.”
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