𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 ꫂ ၴႅၴ
Tom Welling & David Corenswet x F Reader
SUMMARY ꫂ ၴႅၴ You love Tom. You love David. How will you choose? Why not both? (Forgive any mistakes! Byeeee)
Tom plants you on the kitchen counter, standing between your open thighs. His lips brush along your collarbone, skin shaken by his heated breath.
A cold quake shivers up your nape as his fingertips slide down the spaghetti strap. “Tom, we can’t,” You leaned beside his head, murmuring in his ear.
“We have time,” Tom says, pulling back to meet your eyes, which radiate with lust, like a signal for his return. And so he listened. Lips intertwined, tongues rubbing as the air combined.
He kissed you out of hunger, consuming what he could to claim every part of you. It was aggressive and desperate. How could you complain?
He would whimper in response, edging for more air than you provided. This drove you mad, loving every groan and view of his features tightening.
It only urged you to want him more, a taste that you could devour nonstop.
Tom breaks the kiss, whispering with his lips inches away from yours. Feral eyes lowering down your figure. ”I'll be quick.” His voice was like a tongue between your legs.
Touching your sensitive areas to have you surrender. After all, it's too late. Your body was pulsing. Thighs hugging his waist and fingers hidden in his dark layers.
Except your lips refused. “Tom, the stove is on.” His grip beneath your knee forced your lower stomach against him.
Imprisoning you under his hold, the words meant nothing to him but a lame excuse. With the strap hanging further below your waist, a breast appeared exposed.
“Stop being difficult.” His fangs pressed over your nipple, penetrating your skin hard enough to leave a bite mark–not too hard–forcing a pain whimper out of you.
Tongue swirled in thirst, leaving a coat of his saliva, which felt as wet as you were between the legs.
Satisfaction streaked through him, making Tom more determined to push you over.
God, to claim a stunning specimen like you makes him act in ways no man would think they will still feel in a marriage seemed surreal.
Marriages are known to be complicated. Especially after a honeymoon. Massive disagreements, low intimacy, and poor communication.
All was to be expected.
It’s been a year since your marriage. And Tom never fails to remind you how crazy you make him feel. No matter how rough work can get, he carries enough energy to show you how much your presence was missed.
His love and care felt enough. There was nothing more you needed. Tom is a great husband and father to your only child.
“Can’t stay for breakfast. Running late.” Tom’s watch jiggles, carrying a leather Flapover with his coat hugged over his arm.
You sat at the dining table with a prepared plate and swayed your glass of orange juice.
“I told you.” You say sipping. Tom stood before the entrance, turning his head towards you. “Is Ellise returning to us today?”
“Yes. Can you pick her up after work? I won’t make it on time” You swallowed.
“How come?” He asks again.
“My spa appointment. Remember?” A smile smears over you.
Two years ago. Possibly three. You explored New York with no sense of living in a city or how the people may treat you compared to home.
Your entire life evolved around green, dirt, and animals. A place in the countryside. A city, though? Not so much. Surrounded by it, you were overwhelmed.
You seemed out of place, like you won’t belong, no matter how comfortable you get. You will always be a country girl raised by animals, not people.
And Tom? He, too, grew up in open fields and ranches. But most of his life was in New York.
He attended schools and was educated by his father to know his family’s business, which he would later take over once he reached the right age.
A whole future planned. He committed to the city–a place he felt most valuable and worth living in once he met you.
A curious woman halts her path from his side view. Her eyes of wonder, reading a menu beside the entrance, catch Tom’s attention. Your beauty is intimidating and dreamy.
Your glistened skin appears soft enough to feel like silk. Tom can almost sense you embracing him through the glass. An urgency to trace your fingertips across his bare back.
He never felt crazy until your eyes met his. It caught him by surprise. That afternoon, there was no separating him from you. And you from him.
Tom became one of your reasons to live in the city, to pursue exploring more of what you had never experienced, and to share it with him.
On a night set to be celebrated for one of his friends significant career improvement. Tom invites you to their gallery party for an introduction.
Was this a good idea? Stepping into an open Art gallery without Tom’s guide? No. Yet eager to discover the unknown thrilled you.
For sure, not every guest knows each other and is probably looking for an excuse to party somewhere.
You could never forget the smell of wine, the harsh perfume whipping into your nostrils—so much laughter and chatter in every corner.
Your nerves tensed slightly by their few-second glance. Their dull expressions of spotting you were enough for your body to want to hide. To escape from this growing misery.
Your heels veer you towards a painting–a massive one– It may not have been your best escape, but your best distraction to alter your troubles. A way of forcing you into a pensive mindset.
Drowning all the noises surrounding you, leaving just you. Alone in a world of your own. No sense of weird stares. No strong smells, only the fresh air of home. Your comfort spot.
“What are we looking at here?” A hushed voice snaps you back to reality, swinging your head where his voice echoed from.
“Tom, I was–” You pause. The man's height hovered over, palm hidden beneath his coat, and his other firmly holding the glass’s rim.
Dumbfounded by the height difference. His hooded lids struck yours, darkening in color. His throat swallowed what was left of his champagne, leaving yours dry and gulping on salvia.
It didn’t make sense why this man made you numb to speech, why your body refused to retouch a misplaced string over your ear.
Almost as if you were terrified. In a good way.
Nothing made sense. “Tom? There’s plenty Toms somewhere here.” He directs behind, forbidding his gaze from ripping off yours.
“Do I scare you?” You found him studying you intensely, his distance closing for a different crack of behavior from you, predicting what you might do if he enters your personal space. “No,” you whisper.
“Something on my face then? A mark?” He angles his head. “No,” you say again, louder, gradually regaining your ability to speak clearly. You step back.
The man’s darting stare felt dangerous. A flash of his troubled intentions reflected in your eyes. And you wanted no part of it. “Say again where Tom might be.”
He sips his champagne again, but longer as if he were purposely extending his conversation with you, then tilting the glass away.
Tongue brushed the liquid's faint taste on his lower lip, dropping his arm that held the empty glass. To you, he felt near, more near than he already is.
Breathing his warmed breath over your ear, then down your shoulder, where your thin strands would stand by a gentle touch.
The man was touching you without touching you. God, what are you getting yourself into? “Ah, you made it! I wanted to introduce you to David Corenswet. My best friend since my first day in School.”
Tom breaks in between from across the room, gesturing with his champagne arm as he gets closer.
“David, this is my girlfriend,” said Tom, joining your side with an arm placed on your hips. You nearly jumped.
“The country girl?” David said, amusement coating his voice. “Explains why she’s shy to speak.”
“Excuse me–” Tom laughed over your words. “Tell me, does she say more than Yes and No?” Your brows narrowed.
“Why? Do you plan to replace your best friend?” jested Tom, sipping his glass. David’s lips extend further apart. The longer you stare at his eyes, the more your breathing slows.
Tom didn’t have the same view of David as you. He clearly was blind by his manners. How could he see?
Before David had his chance of answering, another person butted in on the conversation, announcing that everyone must gather around for a speech.
A long speech that was mostly off-topic than why the host had everyone gathered here tonight bore the guests until the end, but they never failed to give a final cheer, expressing their support for the host's massive accomplishment.
During the final hour in the gallery, Tom became your tour guide, showing you every art displayed around.
He described each one that made sense to him, and spoke of incoming plans (related to family business) for the following weeks. Which means his work will have Tom more than you. How cruel.
You figure this would bother you, irritating your need for quality time with Tom. But during your two weeks alone, the only thing that kept your mind from dwelling was David.
Meeting him almost felt like it happened yesterday. He left a part of him with you, a curse. There was no forgetting him; your body and mind shared no agreement.
Alone, primarily for another day, and strolling down familiar streets near your apartment allowed your lungs to inhale fresh air, distracting your brain from overthinking.
Enjoy what’s in front of you. Ignore your troubles for this afternoon.
Your heels halt, reaching the end of the sidewalk. You stood between a crowd, their figures much taller and dressed in formal attire. They all were here for the same reason—to walk across.
Shoving for a spot out of the group, the tips of your toes reached the sidewalk's edge. And freed you from getting mashed. Your lungs then expanded.
Across the street, there was somewhat the same crowd, more congregated, and faces glued to their screens. There was no surprise in that.
“Excuse me,” said a man marching past once pedestrians are allowed to cross. You apologized, stepping aside.
As much as you would love to cross over. Your body refused. It's him. It has to be.
That face of his that's not registering a sense of you viewing his every move remained low. Eyes glued to his phone, then at what’s head once crossed.
‘Has to be David. There’s no mistaking him as someone. Can’t be.’ You thought, facing him as he distances away.
It wouldn’t hurt to say Hi? Have a chance to speak with him. Become friends like you both intended.
Instead, you kept your distance and replaced his steps, matching his speed on foot. You grew close enough with zero chances to hide behind a body or in an alley.
You need to speak to him. You have to. A throbbing urge to hear his voice again is all you wanted. Desired is a better word.
“David!” You call in a low tone, failing to speak louder. Your throat clears, trying again.
This time, your voice cracked. His name echoed. Your voice like a dying bird was loud enough for the people behind you to hear.
To avoid any more embarrassment, you swung your purse directly behind David's head for his immediate attention.
“Ow! what was that for?!” David turns, caressing over the spot you hit. His lids rose from spotting you behind. Strange and unannounced? Yes, of course.
Your cheeks burned at the sight of his alluring profile. His beard hid his dimples more than before.
Not that it mattered—it somehow sparked the butterflies within you. Your breath hitched when his gaze locks with yours. Oh, please speak. Please say anything. This silence is beginning to kill you.
“Were you following me?” he says, moving closer and revealing his heart-stopping smile. “Does it matter?” You place your hands on either side of his beard like he were your precious item.
Your lips meet his in surprise, forbidding him from having a chance to decline it at first. His taste is foreign and soft. No regret spills through your bones once you kiss him.
Not a single nerve was affected by guilt. You liked how secretive this felt, how David made you do the unthinkable by following him for a kiss. David spent no less than a second to respond.
He held onto you like he was being pulled away. Fingers curled on your hips as his lips further explored yours. A devour, you had to break from once he started.
Your flushed lips parted. What have you done? “Is this how you imagine we would meet again?” He leans his forehead on yours.
This was the part where you tell him this was a mistake. You did not know what took over you and only wished to be his friend. This would only hurt his relationship with Tom.
Or so you thought. “I have to go.” You push him off with enough force, wiping your lips before pacing down the opposite direction. Escaping wasn’t easy.
“What? You can’t just appear out of nowhere, kiss me like you miss me, and then leave. That’s not fair.” His shoulders met yours. Your face washes with disgust, hoping for David to disappear.
“And so? Are you going to cry?” Your pace quickens. David’s feature tightens, yanking you off the busy sidewalk and into an alleyway. With no care for the trash and its horrific smells, and sleeping homeless.
“Get off me!” You pull the same move you did earlier for freedom, but his grip held your arm tight. Your skin felt penetrated.
“Let go!” You slap him. David’s then head turned, his cheek reddening a print of your palm.
“I’m sorry for kissing you. It meant nothing. This week has just been stressful and lonely for me. I miss Tom being home. He’s been far too busy lately.” You declare, distancing.
“Bullshit.” David cups your cheeks, bringing his lips close to yours. You look up at David, terrified, and he stares down, infuriated.
“Don’t hold back on me. Tell me that you miss me because I fucking did. I have been losing my mind for the past few weeks. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how pretty you look amongst everyone that night.”
You fight against his grip. “Don’t pretend you felt nothing.” You both stumble further down the alley, his lips kissing yours, demanding your surrender.
You tell yourself this isn’t right. Tom is your lover. David is his best friend. You shouldn't let yourself get attached. But why stop?
You wanted this. Your body wanted him. Oh, his kiss even made your blood boil. Still aware of his surroundings, David leaned onto you, guiding you to the nearest wall to pin you.
And beside a dumpster, its smell of fetid decomposition invaded both your airways.
You dug your claws beneath his thin, buttoned shirt, gripping what you could of his bare skin. Red trails down his neck to chest were visible in the sun, darkening by the second as you trace over.
David restrained himself from ripping your clothes. He knew doing this publicly would cause attention.
And he refuses to let that happen. All he needed to do was keep you quiet. David placed your leg around his waist, bodies merging with no space in between.
The air was hotter than ever. You felt how rock solid he was, your touch–your taste—was driving him insane. “David,” you uttered out of breath.
With your anniversary peaking around the corner, finding gifts for Tom has never felt more challenging than ever. He has everything that he wants: you and the life he has. What more could he ask?
To know you wish. These days, you have been his priority. Not a single hint of a gift.
Hours pass in a flash from carrying the basic house wife duties to leaving the apartment for your ‘so called’ appointment. You had time to change for a proper outfit.
A shirt and jeans. Yet you couldn’t. Either was because the chores drained you or that erotic sex Tom drilled you in for a hour or two. So over your black thin gown was a buttoned blue knitted sweater.
Long sleeves, hem at the length of your hips. It kept you warm from afternoons breeze. How cozy.
Your fingertips traced the white ledge on the second floor of the Guggenheim museum as you ambled further up. The place was awfully less crowded and quieter than your last few visits.
Sharing your life and secrets with your friend in a busier crowd was less appealing. No one would dare to listen.
Your voice amongst the rest spoke at once—a ticket to not receiving one single glance of concern. Approaching the third floor, your attention veered to the displays.
Observing guests standing absolutely still before them, as if they were embodying it, absorbing every piece, the longer they stared.
Ahead, somebody–a man–sat on a cushioned stool—enough for two people. He, too, stared at a display before him. Not a single limb moved. He was frozen like a statue.
And so you paused, watching him pensively. A reason why didn’t interest you. At this point, you didn’t feel like yourself.
Your body was no longer in your control and moved on its own. Claiming a spot next to the man. You didn’t dare to see his profile or ask if it was all right for you to sit next to him.
Blind to the displays story, your head tilts. Palms intertwining and eyes looking elsewhere but at the art.
“You come here often?” You asked at random. No response. Only a Shuffle. “When I feel like it. What about you?” answered the man.
“Same here.” Your posture leans, crossing a leg over the other. More shuffling queued in, echoing a bit louder than earlier.
“Why did you decide to come today?” asked the man softly. You held your small smile, joyed that you hadn’t scared him off by your presence.
“Waiting for my friend. She’s late.”
“A friend? Not lover?” He says quickly. Your head turns. “I'm sorry?” David Corenswet. He was already staring at you. Eyes amused by your struck face.
His expression grew irked in a blink. For some reason, he hasn’t looked the same since your last time with him. The difference was hard to identify. Possibly more Handsome? Those dimples.
Oh! “You shaved?” You hesitantly exhaled. “I shaved? That's the first thing you say after two years?” His brows lift.
“What did you want me to say? I haven’t seen you for two years.”
“You know why. Don’t act like you didn’t.”
Really? This is how it starts? “I remember you saying I must tell Tom about us, or you will. You were threatening to ruin my life!” You fumed.
David pushed off the stool. “I’m not having this argument again. I have better issues to think about than you.”
Hoping this would be your final moment with David by watching him storm off, you instead followed.
“David!” you call, grabbing at his sleeves. He shoved you. Refusing defeat, you grab again, better than before. His pace slowed.
“Why didn't you come to my wedding? Tom wanted you as his best man.” You breathed, dropping your palms.
“How could I watch the woman I love marry my best friend?” David’s jaw clenched. “You even had a daughter with him months ago.”
He refrained from showing his face, the emotions unraveling through him. “You still love me?” Your heels circled his figure. Your gaze was up at his gloomy features. Those ocean eyes lost their bright colors.
“Please don't do this. Not again.” You put your palms on either side of his cheeks, wiping a fallen tear. His skin felt just like how you remembered.
Soft and comforting. Holding him till you couldn’t can only separate you both. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t live this secretive life. You said how unhappy you were and how your love for Tom isn’t the same as ours. You had a chance to break it off before your marriage. Before—“
he paused. “having a kid.”
“David, please.” You plead.
“Don’t. Stop with the lies because you still love Tom enough to start a family. And I’m just your guilty pleasure.”
Your head shakes while David speaks. “That’s not true. I loved you as much as I love Tom. I-I just got stuck. Couldn’t figure out who to choose. You don’t understand how hard it was.”
David’s head dropped, his face indifferent. Another plea of yours will only push him further from you. Another word of it is all that it takes. Those eyes expressed the feeling clearly.
You reach to hold his hands, but he swings them away the moment you touch him. Sadness clouded your features.
You were given a choice, and you chose one. Be with Tom, be happy, except give David pain, make him believe you both had something more.
And you still chose Tom, and, reshaping that pain again, David could not bear it. “Come to my apartment tonight, from quarter to eight p.m. I want you there before Tom comes home.”
“I’m not doing this again—”
“I want to tell Tom about us. He deserves to know. No more secrets.”
Your parted lips widen, lungs extending out air. Tom bit your inner thighs, marking every part of you as his own. God, those fangs of his… Your heart races at the sensation.
His teeth poke your sensitive skin, pulling your flesh within his bite. So harsh, so staggering.
He was aware of how quickly your body burns against his touch—from your aggressive tugs of his hair and your shaking thighs, weakening from his teasing.
It pained him not to rip off what was left on your bare body and his. He’s beginning to regret agreeing to “no penetrating” tonight.
Tom gently growls over his final mark, sinking his teeth for a darker color. Dark enough to appear as a bruise, for a longer-lasting effect. You wiggled, palms pushing his head. A mixture of pain and rapture overcame you.
A longing cry escapes your mouth. Twisting knots in your guts, there was no hiding how excruciating it felt. Not that you hated it. You loved it.
Tom slips a thumb between your teeth, eager to know your pain from a bite. You bit down without hesitation, imprisoning his arm with yours, resulting in him climbing on top, troubled in holding a smile.
An agonizing look washes over. “Alright, I get it. Stop..” A chuckle slips out. 
And you listened. His thumb then slips free. “Are you sure you want this? There’s so much we can do.” Tom beams a mischievous grin.
“Exactly. There’s so much we can do without you inside me,” you said, kicking Tom off and leaning up from the mattress.
He stumbled backwards, regaining his stance. Tom’s tousled hair made him look like you kicked him out of his sleep; you almost giggled.
“And what’s that?” he asks, watching you jump towards him, undoing your underwear without breaking eye contact. His breath hitched at the sight, veering his eyes down his waist belt.
Your two fingers hooked his belt, yanking Tom inches from your bare body. You place a comforting kiss across his chest and up the collarbone.
His head tilts over, aroused by how flushed your kisses felt. A quake of bliss shook his veins so excessively. Without awareness, his eyes rolled to the feeling. Then his lids close once you reach his jawline.
“You’ll see” You whispered, caressing his cheek with your other palm and slipping to the bathroom.
“I need a shower. I feel sticky from all of tonight's dancing.”
Tom's expression dulls, his needs vexed from not being satisfied. ’I should’ve known,’ He thought and dropped face-first on the mattress. Arms spread and face inhaling your scent from the sheets.
Waiting will only make him more impatient for you. And just when that thin patience snapped, the door received a knock. His head lifts, waiting for another noise.
You were kept unbothered—deafened even with the shower running. Knock.
Tom heads for the door, swinging it open to shield the mess. A friend of his appeared before him. Still in a tuxedo after hours of your wedding. He held a file beneath his armpit, face tightened with uncertainty.
“You said if I proved you wrong about her. I wouldn’t have to come here tonight and forget our conversation. Well—” The man opens his file, pulling out multiple photographs.
“I'm sorry, Tom. I think your wife and David have been having an affair for months. Possibly a year.” He claimed as Tom examined the photos.
Each one reveals you kissing David before entering a motel. And separating an hour before Tom's shift ends.
“The spa appointments were her excuse for being late when actually she went to see David.” He continued.
Tom’s brows narrowed, bending the photo with his grip. He slid them away and tossed the file back. “Be at my desk when I get back.” His friend frowned at his reaction.
“That’s it, Tom? You can’t live with this cheater. She fucked your best friend!” Tom snatched him by the collar, teeth gritting.
“I know what I saw. I don’t need you repeating what I saw in my head. I know, Peter! Now, get the fuck out of here and let me figure out how I want to live my life.”
Tom closes the door with his shoe, carrying sleepy Ellise. “Can you make a bottle for Ellise while I tuck her to bed?” said Tom, dropping his Flapover beside the door.
He swung where the hall lay only to find David and you standing in the kitchen, putting away the dishes together. You then approached him, swinging the towel over your shoulder.
“Tom, we need—”
His blue eyes darken. “Make the bottle. I have to tuck her in.” Your arms raised, offering assistance. “I can do it. You have been—”
“No, I got it,” Tom assured you. “It’s okay. I haven’t really done anything today.” You reach for Ellise, but Tom turns.
“No-No..She’s sleeping. Just let-let me do it.” Tom stammers. “Tom, really I can—”
Tom repeats his words sternly, striding to Ellise’s bedroom. Not once did he steal a glance at David. You didn’t understand where this attitude came from. Why wasn’t he excited to see his best friend?
With a prepared bottle set, you joined Tom in the bedroom. Silence reigned in; there was no reason to speak once you arrived. You were too afraid to.
Tom then seized the bottle from you without a thank you and sang a short lullaby in whispers.
As for David, he found himself a new area to stand in: the living room. Arms folded, eyes wandering throughout the apartment, sitting felt wrong. Standing felt wrong, too.
Just existing in this apartment rubbed him off weirdly. He felt like he had no right to be here unless there was an invitation, and being here any longer would only make him sweat neurotically.
Appearing on David’s sideview was his friend. Striding too fast for him to react. Your voice worried him. “Stop! Tom, please calm down!”
Tom tackled him on the sofa, gripping what he could of David and attempting a hard blow. David rolled them off to the couch across, shuffling between grips.
You stood aside, pleading for one of them to calm down. Things only got worse when they took turns slamming into the shelves, cracking every frame that hung on the wall.
As they somehow traveled near the entrance, David pinned him to the floor, fist hung in the air. They both stared into each other’s faces furiously, as much as he wanted to offer Tom the first blow.
He couldn’t do it.
Instead, with help, you pulled him off Tom. Your palms facing them both with caution. “This needs to stop. Please, " you cried, blubbing with tears.
Tom got up on his feet, straightening his shirt, and so did David. You remained between them. “We were meaning to tell you,” David said, rolling his sleeves.
“David.” You uttered. “She said she was going to tell you before getting married. But she didn’t, so I left.” He continues. “David, stop.”
“He knew all along. David.”
“What?” He refused to believe. “Tom told me. He found out about us during our wedding night!” Your arms dropped. “Tom knew.”
A mystified look washes over David, veering his attention to Tom, who refused to speak. His expression was unreadable. He glanced at you and David with nothing to express.
“Do you love her?” asked Tom.
David’s throat clears, tugging at his shirt's wrinkles. “I do.” Tom nods, brushing his bangs back. “And you?” Your head shakes. “Tom, please?”
“Answer.” And hesitantly, you spoke. “I do, but I love you both equally. I can’t choose between the two of you!” His head shakes. “You don’t love us the same. Cut the bullshit.”
You clung to Tom’s back, embracing your arms over his chest. There was no letting go, no matter how much he begged. Losing him would be like a missing piece to a puzzle.
“I love you, Tom. I love you so much, I don’t want to lose what we have.”
Your hold loosens as he turns around, soothed by your gentle hold. He buries his face in the depths of your neck. His tears are riveting your collarbone. You then turned to David. Who timidly joined in, brushing a palm over Tom’s hair.
He stared into your reddened eyes. Cheeks painted faintly red. He looked at you as if he were receiving a final view of you. “I love you too, David.”
His lips touched yours, inches from sucking in your breath. You close your eyes, allowing him to explore what longed for him all these years. Yet, nothing.
“I love you too—” Your eyes open. “But not like before. I waited too long for you. You made your choice the moment you married him.” David distances himself. 
“David.”
“You chose this.” His last words left you struck, dazed by his leave. Tom withdraws from your arms. His face was more saddened with tears.
“I need you out of this apartment tomorrow. Have your friend pick you up before I am up. You’ll be allowed to see Ellise as much as you want.”
“Tom, what are—” your brows narrowed. “Anything you say now is meaningless to me. I can’t live with you knowing you love someone else.”
