Make It Hurt

Kirby is your best friend, but recently she’s realized she likes you more than a friend should. She’s been avoiding you and Charlie, too afraid to make things weird between the three of you, unknowingly making things weirder. 

“Honey! I’m home!” Kirby calls as she enters your house, drunk off her ass after another lame party. 

But you’re not anywhere to be found. Your house is usually empty, your parents aren’t home much, but usually you’re on the couch watching something. Since she’s met you, your house has been her home away from home.

Tired and drunk, she makes her way to your room. You’re not there either, and she quickly scrolls through her contacts to find your number. She puts you on speaker, clumsily taking off her clothes to crawl into your bed. 

“Hello?” Your tired voice crackles over the line. 

“Where are you?” Kirby asks, her voice whinier than intended. 

“I’m at Charlie’s. Why?” Your voice a whisper now. 

“Because you’re not home and I just left a party,” she answers, patting the empty space beside her where your body usually is. 

“Are you at my house?”

“Yes, I miss you.” 

“I miss you too, I’ll be home tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, I love you,” she says, turning over to face away from the empty space in your bed. 

“I love you too,” you say, hanging up. 

You don’t get home as early as you thought you would. Charlie kept you longer than you anticipated, and by the time you get home, Kirby is already gone. She doesn’t answer your texts until after you get out of the shower, letting you know you can come over.

Just like Kirby feels comfortable waltzing into your house unannounced, you walk into hers using a spare key she gave you. Her parents are at home about as much as yours are, which isn’t much. Probably why the two of you gravitate towards each other so much.

“Kirby?” You call, making your way towards her room. 

“Yeah?” She answers from her bed. 

“How are you feeling?” You ask, joining her on the bed. 

“Mm, not great,” she says, which you expected since she forgets to drink water and take aspirin after drinking. 

“That’s what you get, party animal,” you tease, wrapping your arms around her when she moves to embrace you. 

“If Charlie didn’t steal you away from me I wouldn’t be hurting so much,” she says, her serious tone revealing the underlying meaning. 

“Don’t blame him,” you say, and she can hear the frown in your voice. 

“Has he even taken you out on a date?” She asks, holding you tighter to her. 

“Yes, he took me to see Paranormal Activity 3,” you answer matter-of-factly. 

“How romantic,” she remarks sarcastically. 

“If you’re just gonna insult my boyfriend–” you begin to say. 

“Your boyfriend?” Kirby interrupts you, surprised by the label. 

“I’m leaving,” you say, moving out of her hold and off the bed. 

“No, don’t leave,” she says, moving after you. 

“No, Kirby. You don’t get to ignore me and Charlie after a night like that, then call me drunk because you showed up to my house and for once I wasn’t there,” you say, leaving her room before she can respond. 

Charlie’s hair is soft, a surprise since you know for a fact the only products he uses are drugstore shampoo and conditioner. His head rests on your stomach, allowing you to play with his hair as the two of you watch some classics. The way he talks about the effects, the slasher backstories, and the behind the scenes stories reminds you of your movie nights with Kirby.

“Babe?” Charlie asks in a soft voice. 

“Hm?” You respond with a hum. 

“Are you tired? Wanna go to bed?” He asks, checking on you. 

“No, just spaced out a bit I guess,” you say, hands still messing with his hair.

“Have you talked to Kirby?” He asks, turning over so that he can face you. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs when you answer with a sour expression on your face. 

“I don’t get how she can be so dense,” you say with a sigh. 

“Love makes you stupid I guess,” he jokes. 

“Does that make me stupid?” You laugh. 

“Extremely,” he says, moving up to kiss you.

Charlie knows there’s something between you and Kirby, even before the intimate night the three of you shared. It confused him, because you treated him just as you treated Kirby, and Kirby treated him just like she treated you. It hurt both of you when she began to distance herself, and the two of you only had each other to turn to. 

Kirby hates that she can’t bring herself to make things right between you. She throws herself into Jill and Olivia’s bullshit, hoping their mundane, heteronormative boy troubles will distract her from you and Charlie. But she still can’t bring herself to skip Stab-A-Thon. Olivia, and Jill and Trevor are going anyway, it’d be weird if she didn’t go too. 

It’s a big turnout, the most popular Cinema Club event of the year, crowds of intoxicated teens waiting for the movies to start. She watches you and Charlie throughout the night, following the two of you up to the hayloft towards the end of the first movie. After some liquid courage, she feels brave enough to confront the two of you. 

She’s not sure why she expected something different, following you both to the somewhat secluded space. But she didn’t expect to see you on your knees with Charlie’s cock down your throat. Her body moves before she realizes, mouth speaking words she hadn’t even thought. 

“You are such a slut,” she says, her hand landing on Charlie’s shoulder as she stops beside the two of you, startling you both. “Oh, don’t stop on my account,” she says when your head stops bobbing. “Keep going, good girl,” she praises, her hand moving to the back of your head to set a rhythm for you. 

“You know, you’re really lucky Charlie,” Kirby says, her grip tightening on his shoulder. “Most guys’ don’t have such easy cocksluts for a girlfriend, barely ever get blowjobs,” she says over his whimpers, moving your head faster.

“She’s not a slut,” he says, voice breathy as Kirby continues to move your mouth on him like a toy. 

“Aw, that’s sweet,” she coos, meeting your teary eyes. “But just look at her,” she says, turning his head down to watch the drool spill out the sides of your mouth and onto your exposed cleavage, his eyes trailing lower to see the hand not holding his thigh under your skirt, touching yourself over your panties. 

“Fuck,” Charlie whines, throwing his head back in pleasure. 

“You gonna cum?” Kirby asks, taunting him. 

“Uh-huh,” he moans, hands grabbing your head as Kirby continues controlling your movements.

“Go ahead, cum down her throat. Make her swallow it all,” she says, holding your head still as his hips move on their own, chasing his release. 

Tears stream down your face as you gag around his cock, the tip bruising the back of your throat, nails scratching his thighs from the force. You do your best to swallow it all, but some spills out the sides of your mouth, following the trail of drool down to your tits. Finally, they let you go, watching your pretty face relax from the facefuck you just received. 

“Pretty girl, come here,” Kirby instructs, patting her thigh as she sits on a bale of hay.

You crawl over to her on your hands and knees, too weak to stand. Charlie sits on the floor next to her, his head laying against the outside of her thigh, watching you straddle her thigh. She tucks the hem of your skirt into the waistband, exposing your damp panties. 

“Poor thing,” she says with faux sympathy, rocking your hips back and forth. “Bet you wish he was fucking your cunt instead.”

“Please!” You cry, holding onto her forearms when she bounces you on her thigh, your clit rubbing against the fabric of your panties and the denim of her jeans euphorically.

“Shh, don’t wanna get caught, do you?” She says, hands gripping your hips tighter to keep you moving at a steady rhythm. “Charlie, play with her tits,” she says, watching you bite your knuckles in an attempt to keep quiet.

“So beautiful,” he praises, pulling your top and bra down to expose your chest. “Fucking perfect,” he says, cupping your breasts, tweaking your nipples, and kneading the flesh. 

Your belly flares with heat, grinding your slick cunt against Kirby’s thigh in desperation. She’s moving your hips forcefully, holding you tighter as you attempt to move on your own as you approach your orgasm. Your hands cup her jawline gently, connecting your lips in a messy kiss as you reach your high, your moans muffled by her mouth. 

“Feel better?” She asks, watching your thighs twitch as you ride out your orgasm. 

“No,” you whine, dropping your head to avoid her gaze. 

“No?” She echoes your answer, surprised. 

“How can she feel better when you’re just gonna ignore us tomorrow?” Charlie asks, massaging your shaking legs. 

“I won’t–” Kirby begins to say. 

“If you just want to fool around, that’s fine,” you interrupt her. “But this will be the last time, because I love you and I can’t keep doing this if you expect there to be no strings attached.” 

“You love me? But you and Charlie–” she tries to say. 

“Think three’s a party,” Charlie interrupts her this time. 

“So, do you wanna be our girlfriend?” You ask, holding Charlie’s hand for reassurance. 

“Gladly,” she answers, wrapping her arms around you when you lunge forward to hug her. 

“Can I?” You ask, tracing the button of her jeans when you separate. 

When Kirby had invited everyone over to her house after Gale Weathers was attacked at Stab-A-Thon, you didn’t expect for the deadly night to continue. Robbie’s incessant worrying over possibly being arrested for simply hosting the event where the sheriff’s wife was attacked was only made worse after Trevor showed up uninvited. 

You’re the only one drunk enough to follow Robbie outside, not wanting to witness Charlie and Kirby flirt after Jill and Trevor separated themselves from the group, looking for evidence to find out who invited Trevor. Distracting yourself from what’s going on inside is easy, laughing at Robbie’s drunken attempts to get his stream going. You ignore the aching feeling in your chest when he tells his audience about Charlie and Kirby, downing the rest of your drink. 

Switching to a new school senior year is hard, but Kirby and her friends were nice enough to include you in their group. It just sucked that the only guy you were interested in was madly in love with someone else. You’re brought back to the moment when Robbie runs face first into a hanging plant, laughing cruelly at his pain. It’s not until you feel a knife stabbing through your left shoulder that you stop laughing. 

The cry you let out when Ghostface pulls the knife out is pathetic, and you quickly fall to your knees in pain, holding a hand over the bleeding wound. When you realize the killer left you to run after Robbie, you quickly rise to your feet and make your way around the house. You can hear footsteps following you, and you speed up, turning the corner to see Sidney, Jill, and Kirby all at the entryway.

“Run!” You yell, drawing their attention to you and the killer following behind you. 

Jill and Sidney run upstairs, but you follow Kirby further into her house, not trusting yourself and steps. Kirby tries calling 911 on the landline, but it’s dead and the line goes dead every time you try on her cell, having lost your own either in her couch or backyard. The two of you run into Sidney, who tells you she got through on her cell and that Jill should be safe. Kirby leads all three of you to a safe room in her house, locking the door behind her. 

“Kirby, let me in!” Charlie says, pounding on the glass of the door, smearing blood across the window panes. “No, no, no. I just found Robbie, this is his blood. Please!” He begs when Kirby hesitates to open the door. 

“If you can’t trust him, don’t open the door,” Sidney says, knowing exactly how Kirby feels.

“There is someone else out here, let me in! Oh, my God, let me in! Please!” He says, pounding harder on the glass, looking between Kirby and whoever else is outside. 

“I’m sorry, Charlie,” Kirby says, backing away from the door, and you wish you could let him in, but before you can consider the option for too long Ghostface appears behind him. 

The three of you can only watch as Charlie is bound to a patio chair, Kirby’s ringtone blaring through the air as the killer calls from Charlie’s phone. Sidney leaves to find Jill, leaving you and Kirby to keep Ghostface on the phone while she’s gone. You can hear your own heart pounding in your ears as Kirby answers the horror movie trivia asked over the phone. Both of you panic when she answers a question wrong, but calm down when she’s offered another question. 

Kirby lists off answers before Ghostface can even finish the question, knowing she’d answered correctly when she’s met with silence. The two of you rush outside to undo Charlie’s bindings, ripping off the duct tape and spewing apologies. Quickly, you all make your way back inside the house, but stop abruptly when Kirby is stabbed in the stomach by a familiar figure in the darkness. Ghostface twists the knife, and all you can do is watch Kirby fall to the ground and follow Charlie as he leads you away. 

You don’t realize you’re back in the house until you run into Charlie’s back, eyes widening when you see blood seeping through his shirt. Sidney comes downstairs, and as the killer focuses on her you drag Charlie with you further into the house. You make it into the kitchen and open the pantry door so that the two of you could hide inside, but jump back when a bound Trevor falls onto the floor in front of you. Before you can even think to help him, you feel something hit your head, and everything goes black as you fall unconscious to the floor. 

The sound of sirens is what wakes you, but you’re barely able to register anything else as you’re lifted onto a stretcher. You’re in and out of consciousness the whole ride to the hospital, but only fully awake later that night. The hospital room is half-lit, machines tracking your vitals beeping, IV needle stuck in your hand, and a curtain dividing the room in two. Your heart rate spikes, alerting the other patient in the room that you’ve woken up. 

The curtain barely moves as Charlie approaches you, his own IV and machines following behind him, cooing at you as you begin to cry in an attempt to soothe you. You sit up fully, wrapping your arms around his waist and hiding your face in his chest as you cry, unable to see the out of place smile stretching across his face. He holds you in his one-armed embrace, his left arm in a sling to relieve his wounded shoulder, happy that you seek comfort in him without question. 

“Shh, it’s gonna be okay, you’re okay,” he says as you begin to calm down. “You’re safe,” he reassures you when you pull away from him. “Can I sit with you?” He asks, and you quickly nod and lift your blanket as you scoot over in your bed for him to join you. 

“What happened? I don’t remember anything after you were stabbed and I think I passed out from blood loss,” you ask, fiddling with the scratchy hospital blanket that covers both of your lower bodies nervously as you wait to find out who was behind the mask. 

“Well, it turns out Jill and Trevor were the ones killing everyone. Pulled a real Bonnie and Clyde on us,” he chuckles, trying to relieve some of the tension, earning only a weak smile from you. “Jill shot me, but Sidney stopped her, and I was able to stop Trevor from finishing you off too,” he lies, knowing he’d be the only one to know what really happened.

“You saved my life,” you say, staring at him in awe.

“I only did what anyone else would’ve done,” he says, feigning modesty.

“No, you saved me. Someone else would’ve just watched or saved themselves,” you say, guilt gnawing at you as you think of how you and Kirby could only watch as Charlie was tied up by Ghostface.

“Maybe, hey, why the long face?” He asks, seeing the remorse in your teary eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” you begin to cry again, hiding your face in his uninjured side. “I’m so sorry me and Kirby didn’t let you in, I’m sorry you got hurt protecting me,” you sob, your tears soaking through the thin hospital gown. 

“Shh, it’s okay. That doesn’t matter, we’re both alive and that’s all that matters, okay?” Charlie reassures you, his arm snaking around your waist as your sobs turn to sniffles. “Kirby’s with Sidney in the ICU. The doctors think they’ll both be waking up soon,” he says once you’ve calmed down again.

“Really?” You ask, surprised by the news. 

“Yeah, Dewey told me when he came by earlier,” he answers, unbothered by the news since neither of them knew the true extent of his involvement in the night’s events. 

“That’s good,” you say, beginning to separate yourself from Charlie’s side, now knowing the girl he’s in love with is still alive.”I’m sorry, did I hurt you? Are you okay?” You ask, seeing his face scrunch up in pain as you move away. 

“No, I’m fine. Painkillers are probably just wearing off,” he answers, shifting into a more comfortable position, moving closer to you in the small hospital bed. 

“I can call the nurse,” you offer, looking around for the remote.

“No, it’s fine. They should be coming by soon anyways,” he lies, knowing they won’t be checking in for another hour at least. 

Neither of you say anything for a moment, simply sit together in the silent room, beeping from the machines fading into the background. You’re not sure if it’s the medications, or the fact that you almost died, or if it’s because of how close you are to Charlie, but your mind is going haywire. Torn between wanting to scream, cry, and confess your feelings for him, feelings that have only intensified after finding out that he saved you, you unconsciously choose the latter, words already tumbling past your lips before you can stop them. 

“Charlie, I think I’m in love with you,” you say, blinking slowly at him. “Love is a bit much, actually. But I like you, a lot,” you say when his eyes widen in shock, lips parted as he tries to think of something to say. “I know you and Kirby have like, a thing, but I just wanted to tell you in case we almost die again.”

“Can I tell you something?” Charlie asks, finally saying something and you answer with a nod. “Me and Kirby really don’t have anything on, it’s just a running joke. I’ve actually been asking her for advice to ask you out,” he explains, looking away to feign embarrassment. 

“Oh,” is all you say, taking in the information. 

“Oh?” He prompts you, but you don’t say anything else. 

Instead, your gaze flickers from his lips to his eyes, and before you can overthink, you lean in to kiss him. His lips are chapped, and you’re sure yours are too, both of you dehydrated from running around all night. It’s fervent, stealing your breath away as he deepens the kiss, holding you close to him with his right arm. You feel dizzy, parting your lips to let him lick into your mouth, trying to match his energy. 

There’s only so much room on the small hospital bed, and you end up straddling Charlie’s thigh. The whimper you let out is barely muffled by his mouth when he forces you to sit, only the thin hospital gown separating your bare cunt from his leg. He’s moving you along his thigh, the friction stimulating your clit and soon you’re moving on your own, hip seeking pleasure as your hole begins to leak. He breaks the kiss, instead sucking and biting at the sensitive skin of your neck, marking you, focusing on your stifled moans that only he can hear.

“Charlie, the nurses–” you whisper, breathing heavily when Charlie interrupts you.

“Don’t worry about them, we’ll be quick,” he reassures you. 

Before you can reply, he’s reaching behind you to untie your gown, clumsily undoing the snap buttons on the sleeves to pull the offending fabric off, throwing it aside. He grabs your hand, spitting in your palm and wrapping your fingers around his length, guiding your hand’s movements as he fully hardens from your touch. It makes your stomach twist in want, watching the purple head leak pre and listening to his dulcet moans. 

Growing impatient, you straddle his hips, lining him up with your entrance and slowly sinking down until your ass meets his thighs. Thick cock stretching you out, you can only hold onto the hem of his hospital gown, not wanting to reopen any of his wounds. You move slowly, doing your best to hold back your noises, but Charlie lets his out without care, hand gripping your ass and moving you faster. 

“Wait– Charlie!” You squeal, his hips meeting yours, and you swear you can feel him in your guts. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, loving how you bite your lip and furrow your brow in an attempt to silence yourself. 

“Hah! Please, please,” you beg, but you’re not sure what for, feeling his thumb press roughly on your clit.

Your rhythm falters as he rubs circles on the sensitive nub, your orgasm building quickly. You screw your eyes shut tightly as you reach your peak, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you clench around him. Only whimpers fall past your lips, still holding back your noises in fear of the nurses, but Charlie’s cursing is barely hushed, rutting his hips up as finishes inside you, your walls milking him too tightly for him to pull out. 

“Does that mean I’ll die a virgin?” Ethan asks, stunning the group with his overshare. 

The group moves on quickly after that, Mindy continues her lecture but you can’t stop thinking about what Ethan said. You don’t understand how Ethan can still be a virgin, he’s cute, a bit awkward but in a funny way, and smart, girls should be throwing themselves at him. Ethan thinks the same, but that’s something he’d only ever admit to the thousands of other men with the same opinion on the forums he visits online. 

You know if you talk about it to your friends they’ll tell you it’s a bad idea. Even before the Ghostface attacks, Mindy didn’t think it’d be a good idea for you to go after Ethan, but now that he’s at the top of her suspect list, you doubt she’s changed her mind. After Anika and Quinn’s murder, you expect they’ll suspect you too since you weren’t with them, and for a moment they do, but quickly change their minds when they remember you genuinely believed all cats were girls and all dogs were boys. 

It’s not fair that they ruled you out for being dumb, despite not having an alibi, but still suspect Ethan even though he was at econ. It’s your sympathetic nature that invites him to your apartment for the night, even though Mindy told you not to be alone with him. But your roommate will come home from work before midnight, so you don’t worry about it too much. 

“Are you really a virgin, E?” You ask, watching him look over your worksheet, having insisted on helping you with your math assignments. 

“Yeah,” he answers nervously, ears turning red and face flushing from embarrassment. 

“But you’re so cute!” You say, moving closer to him on your bed, your papers falling off from the movement.

“You think I’m cute?” He asks, staring at you wide-eyed.

“Totally,” you answer, reaching out to play with a curl just behind his ear, arm resting on his shoulder. “You know, I can be your first, if you want.”

“Really?” Ethan asks, already getting hard from your offer. 

“Mhm,” you answer with a hum, throwing the assignments in his lap to the side.

You straddle his thighs, sitting in his lap and leaning forward to kiss him. His lips are chapped, but you don’t mind. He whines when you nip at his bottom lip, moaning when he feels your tongue slip into his mouth. Your arms rest on his shoulders, hands gently holding his face as the kiss deepens.

His hands squeeze your hips, attempting to slow your movements as you grind in his lap. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, his own hips moving up to meet yours in search of more friction. When you pull away, he whines, but is quickly silenced when you pull off your tight crop top. He stares at your bare chest in awe, letting you pull off his shirt as his mind catches up to what’s happening. 

“Can I touch you?” He asks before you can take off his jeans, his thumbs nervously rubbing over the fat of your hips.

“Sure,” you answer, your wide eyes showing you weren’t expecting the request. 

Ethan’s hands travel from your hips up your sides, his warm touch leaving goosebumps in his path. Gently, he cups your breasts, fondling the soft mounds and eliciting quiet sounds from you. His thumbs ghost over your nipples, and they pebble from his barely there touch. The whole time, your hips haven’t stopped moving, now moving faster in his lap. Spurred on by your sounds and growing neediness, one of his hands dipping past the waistband of your short shorts and underwear. 

“Is this okay?” Ethan asks, fingers moving through your slick folds.

“Yes,” you moan breathlessly, hips stuttering when he brushes over your clit.

It’s maddening, the way he touches you, amateur but just skilled enough to rile you up. His hand and your panties are soaked, your hole achingly empty, you decide he can skip the rest of the foreplay. It’s supposed to be about him, anyway, you tell yourself, pulling away from him to take your shorts off, and he quickly copies your actions. His dick is pretty, trimmed curls neatly trailing from his lower stomach to the base, thick, long, and you hope you get the chance to taste him, maybe in the morning. 

“Fuck,” he groans, feeling your tight walls envelop him as you lower yourself on his cock. 

“E, look at me, baby,” you say, a hand in his hair and the other holding his face, encouraging him to open his eyes. 

He whimpers when you start moving, shallowly bouncing in his lap, glossy eyes watching you take him. Your stomach twists in pleasure, his tip kissing that spongey spot deep inside you every time your ass meets his thighs, clenching around him when you hear him whine after your grip on his curls tightens. Ethan feels like he’s going to melt into the bed, watching a creamy ring form at the base of his dick as you ride him. You look so hot, tits bouncing as you move, and you feel so good, he’s embarrassed when he tells you he’s going to cum. 

“Shh, it’s okay, go ahead and cum,” you reassure him, not stopping your movements as he begins to babble incoherently to announce his release.

His arms wrap around your waist, holding you to his chest as he finishes inside you. The air is warm, only the sounds of your heavy breathing can be heard as he recovers from his orgasm. As his mind clears up, Ethan begins to panic, realizing you didn’t get to cum. 

“I’m so sorry, you didn’t–” he begins to say, but you interrupt him. 

“It’s okay, this was about you,” you tell him, but he won’t have it. 

“Just please, let me?” He asks, moving you to lay you on your back, moving down the bed in between your thighs.

“Okay,” you say, letting him spread your legs to slot himself between them. 

He licks a broad stripe through your folds, and if he wasn’t eating you so messily you’d maybe be a little grossed out by him essentially eating his cum out of you. Despite his lack of experience, he’s enthusiastic, and your hand quickly flies to grip his mop of brown curls as you begin to buck your hips against his face. You’d feel bad for how tightly you hold his hair, but the noises he lets out against your pussy tells you he actually enjoys it.

“Ethan!” You squeal his name, feeling his tongue explore your hole, and your thighs nearly closing around his head.

Your legs are shaking on either side of his head, and he thinks you’re getting close. He holds your hips down, keeping you from grinding against his face, allowing him to roughly circle your clit with his thumb. Your hips jerk against his hold, seeking pleasure as the knot in your stomach begins to unwind. So lost in your building orgasm, you don’t realize you’re practically suffocating Ethan between your thighs, not that he minds. He would gladly accept death if it meant he’d die with your thighs wrapped around his head, listening to your muffled cries of pleasure. 

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” You ask once you come down from your high, moving away from him to out from between your legs.

“I’m fine! Would it be okay if we did that again?” He asks, and with a quick look at his lap you realize he’d gotten hard again while eating you out. 

bimbo!reader and charlie have a pretty chill senior year imo, since charlie’s busy with you he never gets roped into jill’s ghostface plan.

bimbo!reader ends up being pretty good friends with kirby, completely oblivious to her and charlie’s past. it leads to some awkward situations, but eventually you figure out it’s best not to involve the two. 

bimbo!reader buys charlie three months of a horror movie themed subscription box for christmas and he nearly screams when he opens it and a slasher’s head pops out like a jack in the box. he got you a heart locket with his initials engraved on the back, he’s embarrassed bc he thinks it’s cheesy but you love it. 

bimbo!reader is charlie’s first new year’s kiss, among other new year’s firsts ;)

bimbo!reader and charlie say “i love you” for the first time on valentine’s day. 

bimbo!reader and charlie go to the beach over spring break, and he nearly cums in his trunks when he sees you in your skimpy little bikini. he worries some surfer dude is gonna steal you away from him, but his worries are quickly laid to rest when you spend the whole time doting on him. you’re worried he’s gonna burn, he’s so pale, so you make sure he reapplies sunblock and ask him to get your back and shoulders bc “skin cancer isn’t sexy, baby”.

bimbo!reader gets upset during prom season, charlie never asks you to be his date so you feel like he doesn’t wanna go. he just thought it was implied you were going together, plans a cheesy promposal to make it up to you.

bimbo!reader gets nominated for prom queen and actually wins, but refuses to dance with the prom king bc you don’t wanna dance with anyone else but charlie. 

bimbo!reader almost doesn’t graduate bc of some misunderstandings in class, but charlie helps you appeal to the teachers and turn in your missing assignments so you can graduate. 

bimbo!reader throws charlie a party when he gets accepted as a film major at usc.

bimbo!reader drags charlie to parties, beaches, concerts, anything to spend time with him before he leaves for college, since you're not going to the same one as him.

bimbo!reader and charlie get into an argument before he leaves, he says things he doesn't mean, things he shouldn't have said, and you let him know that he's free to fuck whoever he wants at usc since he's single now.

college!charlie regrets the whole stupid argument, his first few weeks of college are shit bc everyone is more pretentious than him, none of the girls are you, and he's pretty sure his roommate has been using his shampoo.

college!charlie leaves a party early when a drunk girl tries making out with him, her lipgloss is nauseating, and he misses your soft, fruit flavored kisses.

college!charlie finds you walking down greek row on his way back to his dorm, crying with your heels in hand, and he doesn't hesitate to console you.

“Why are you crying?,” Charlie asks, standing in front of you, surprising you. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, tone accusatory, ignoring his question.

“I should be asking you that question, but I’m not. Why are you crying?” He repeats his question, watching your mascara run down your cheeks as you sniffle. 

“I got dragged to a stupid frat party,” you answer, throwing your arms over his shoulders to pull him into a hug. 

“Is that it? Nothing happened?” He asks, his own arms wrapping around your waist and holding you close to him. 

“Not really, I just wish you were with me,” you say, and Charlie can feel your tears through his shirt, dampening his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice cracking as he holds back his own tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“Can I stay with you tonight?” You ask, ignoring his apology. 

“Anything you want,” he says, and the two of you separate to begin walking to his dorm. 

It’s almost as if nothing has changed, Charlie is the same as before you broke up, offering to switch shoes so you don’t have to walk barefoot. He stumbles at first in your heels, but once you manage to give him tips through your laughs he’s able to walk normally. Thankfully his dorm isn’t far, soon you’re both in the elevator, and he’s able to shamelessly take off your heels to walk down the hall to his room. 

Charlie has half a mind to block the door with a chair, but figures his roommate will just go home with a friend or a girl from the party he left him at. Instead, he focuses his attention on you, watching you strip out of your revealing outfit and going through his dresser to wear one of his shirts. He wonders if this is what you would’ve done every weekend if he hadn’t said what he said when the two of you had that stupid fight, but he tries not to think about it too much as he changes clothes and joins you in his twin bed, way too small for both of you and forcing you closer together. 

“I forgive you, Charlie,” you say after a while, head resting on his chest, your breaths syncing with his as the two of you begin to doze off. 

“Thank you,” he says, voice soft as his eyes well with tears.

“I love you, baby,” you say, moving on top of him, straddling his hips. “I love you so much,” you say again, leaning down to kiss him, and he can taste the faint trace of fruity lipgloss you wear, most likely having worn off throughout the night.

“I love you too,” he says when your lips separate from his, feeling you pepper kisses across his face. “I’ve missed you so much,” he says, hands massaging your hips as you grind on him, your kisses trailing lower, across his jawline and down his neck. 

“Me too, missed you so much,” you say, moving down the bed, pulling down his boxers to reveal his half-formed erection. 

You don’t waste time, spitting in your palm to wrap around his shaft and licking at the tip languidly. It gets messy quickly, as he leaks pre and hardens fully, you start drooling. Your own underwear is damp just from listening to his moans, walls clenching around nothing when you hear him whimper when you suck on his tip. He pulls you away from his dick, and you move back up the bed to kiss him at his request. 

“You don’t have to do that, let me–” he says, trying to switch positions, but you stop him. 

“No, I wanna ride you,” you say, lining him up with your entrance, your underwear pushed to the side, sitting on his cock before he can try to flip you over again.

“Fuck,” he moans, feeling your tight walls for the first time since before the semester started, holding your hips in a bruising grip to keep you from moving. 

Your nails scratch against his lower stomach, leaving thin red lines as you try to move, desperate for any movement. Throughout your breakup, you had been far too miserable to try to find someone else, and your sex drive had almost completely disappeared once your pretty boyfriend wasn’t around. Now that he’s under you, buried deep inside you, stretching you on his cock and setting a fire inside you, you can’t hold back. 

Prying his hands off your hips and holding them down on either side of his head is easier than you thought, and you intertwine your fingers as you lift your hips up, squeezing them when you slam your hips back down. His voice is heavenly, encouraging you to keep a steady pace as you bounce on his dick, moaning wantonly as you connect your lips to his in a sloppy kiss.

It’s messy, desperate sex, both of you giving and taking pleasure from the other, eager to let the other know how much they were missed. You let go of his hands to move his hair out of his face, gripping the dark locks when his hands grope your tits, pinching your nipples before moving down to tease your clit. 

Your pace falters from the sudden stimulation, and he takes the opportunity to plant his feet and grab your hips, fucking up into you at a faster pace. He reaches deeper this way, making you keen in his ear as the two of you approach orgasm. Thin red lines run from his shoulders to his chest, your nails marking him as he pinches your clit, and you cry out as he keeps fucking you through your release. 

“Fuck, baby, just a bit more,” he says, voice strained, feeling you shake as you tense up in pleasure. 

Your words are more like whines, slurring out barely comprehensible ‘i love you's and begging for him to cum. It’s what sends him over the edge, hearing you begging for him to finish, and his pace falters as he cums inside you, haphazardly bucking up into you as he rides out his high.

“No fucking way,” Charlie says, leaving the classroom quickly, leaving you to stumble after him on wobbly legs sore from sitting on your knees.

“Come on, Charlie. Please? It’ll be just one night,” you follow him, begging despite the ache in your jaw.

“Yeah, but if I let you go then all of your little followers are gonna wanna come too. It’s my film festival, I’m not gonna let it be ruined by a bunch of music nerds,” Charlie says, rejecting your request to attend Stab-A-Thon once more. 

“I will not tell anyone where it is or let anyone follow me. Please, let me go and I will do anything you want,” you reassure him, holding onto his arm to keep him from walking away. 

“Why do you wanna go so bad?” He asks, changing the subject.

“Does it matter?” You shoot back.

“Whatever. But you can’t go back on your word,” he says, wrenching his arm out of your grip to leave.

Charlie and Robbie plan their final Stab-A-Thon, and Charlie forces himself to send you an invite once all the preparations are made. He’s still not sure why you want to go, you’ve never wanted to in the past, but he didn’t think you’d wanna come just to flirt with some guy. It’s disgusting, watching you fawn over the unknown partygoer.

Not even Kirby’s half-hearted compliments can distract him from you, from how your hand trails from his bicep to rest on his shoulder, from how you laugh and smile at whatever dumb joke he made, from how angry he feels that it’s not him you’re gushing over. What makes that guy so interesting? So funny? So deserving of your affection?

He’s a little tipsy, on his second drink of the night, the first movie just about to end. Still watching you instead of the movie, he waits until the guy walks off to presumably refill your drinks, two cups in hand as he heads towards the coolers. While he’s gone, Charlie walks up to you, deciding he wants his favor returned now. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Charlie asks, taking the guy’s place in front of you.

“Yes, very much. Thank you for the invite,” you say, looking behind him.

“Do you remember your promise?” He asks, irritated by your inattention. 

“Of course. Why? Finally know what you want?” You ask, now focused on him.

“Yes,” he answers, savoring your attention. 

“Tell me tomorrow, and I’ll make it happen,” you say, moving to walk around him, but he stops you. 

“No, it has to be tonight,” he says, pulling you out of the farmhouse to one of the smaller, private abandoned structures on the property.

“Fine. What do you want?” You ask, following him away from the party.

“I wanna fuck you,” he says, pushing you into the withering shack. 

“And this couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” You ask, turning around to watch him enter after you, slamming the decrepit door shut. 

“No,” he says, approaching you slowly, not quite sure what to do now that he’s alone with you. 

“Alright then, let’s be quick. I wanna be back in time for the second movie,” you say, pulling him towards you until your back meets the wall. 

“Why? I thought you hated movies,” he says, breathing heavier as you palm him over his jeans. 

“I don’t hate movies, I just love pressing your buttons,” you say, guiding his hands to your chest. 

“You really do,” he says, thinking of the guy he just stole you away from. 

“So are we gonna keep talking or are you gonna fuck me?” You ask, your hand squeezing his cock teasingly. 

He whirls you around until you’re facing the wall, shoving you forward until you must brace yourself with your arms. You lean forward, pushing out your ass for him, not expecting him to lick you over your panties when he flips your skirt up. They fall to the ground easily once he pulls them past your knees, licking your cunt messily, hands holding your hips still as you try to jerk away from the wet muscle.

“Charlie,” his name leaves your lips in a whine. 

“Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry, you wanted this over quickly,” he says, standing up and unbuttoning his jeans. “You wanna get back to the movie and that fucking asshole,” he says, his jeans and boxers pushed down his knees. 

“Just fuck me,” you beg, pushing back against him as he holds the thick tip of his dick at your entrance. 

He gives no verbal response, only thrusting into you until his hip bones are flush against your ass. Stilling for a moment, his head spins as he experiences the tight heat of a pussy for the first time, and he realizes he may have overestimated his endurance. His hands grip your hips firmly, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you woke up with bruises in the morning. 

With the way he has you bent over, you feel like you’re being split apart. It’s a pleasant ache, sending white hot pleasure through your very bones. You’re grinding back against him greedily, urging him to move already. 

“Charlie, please,” you moan sweetly, pushing back until you feel his hip bones digging into your skin.

“Fuck,” he groans, finally moving. 

He curses as he fucks you, from the pleasure and for his overconfidence. Embarrassingly close to cumming, he reaches one hand around in front of you to swipe his fingers over your folds. His movements are clumsy, he’s not quite sure what he’s looking for, but eventually he finds the small bud. Rubbing circles on your sensitive pearl, your legs begin to shake from the stimulation, clenching tighter around him.

“Did you just–” you begin to ask, feeling your walls flood with warmth.

“Shut up and take it,” he interrupts you, grunting with every thrust. 

Despite his premature ejaculation, he doesn’t stop. It’d be way too embarrassing if he didn’t make you cum, and he’s not gonna let you hold that over him. So, he rubs his cock raw inside your pussy, too fucked out from his self-inflicted overstimulation to hear the whimpers leaving his mouth. 

It’s sinful, the noises he makes as he’s slumped over you. He’s all you can feel, around you, inside you, he’s all you can hear, moaning right next to your ear, dick pushing out the cum he’s already released inside you. You squeal when his movements become desperate, milking his cock as you cum, and he has to bite your shoulder to suppress the cry he lets out as reaches his second orgasm. 

“Still wanna go back and watch the movie?” He asks, catching his breath. 

Whoever put Music Club next to Cinema Club at the club fair, Charlie swears he’s gonna kill them. You and everyone in your stupid club are insufferable, pretentious little fucks who they think know things about music that nobody else knows. You would say the same thing about Charlie and all the members of his club when it comes to movies. 

“Join Music Club! Get an extracurricular on your college apps just for listening to music!” You yell, attracting students to your booth, already on your third sign-up sheet. 

Not that it matters, over half of them won’t show up anyways. And you know that, but you don’t care. The numbers look great for your club, and if you get enough members you’ll probably be able to get an approved budget for live shows. 

Charlie and Robbie sit behind their booth, having a casual conversation as the usual people come up to sign-up for the year, interrupted occasionally by a curious freshman. It’s their senior year, last year running their club, so they’re taking it easy, wanting to enjoy it while they can. You’re the opposite, gunning for more members, more money, more events, it’s impressive really. 

By the time the lunch period is over, you’ve got three and a half pages full of names, phone numbers, and emails, all interested in joining your club. Charlie’s got two and a half pages, not bad, but he knows you’re gonna rub it in his face. It doesn’t take long after the courtyard clears out and your lackeys start packing up for you to come over to his booth, a smug grin on your face. 

“Hey, Walker, did your movie club get any new members this year?” You ask, leaning against his booth. 

“A few, and it’s Cinema Club,” Charlie answers, correcting you.

“Hm, well, according to the school website it’s Movie Club, but whatever,” you say, knowing it’s been bothering him since sophomore year that the school gets it wrong. Every. Single. Year. 

“How about you?” Charlie asks, knowing you won’t go away until he does. 

“Oh, we hit triple digits this year,” you say, all too satisfied with yourself. 

“You know most of them aren’t going to show up,” he says, wanting to knock you down a peg. 

“Yeah, but it still looks great on paper. Anyway, see you in lit,” you say, unphased, leaving him to finish packing up your booth. 

Charlie brushes off the whole encounter, knowing he’s in for another year of “obviously music is better than movies” argument he’s gonna get from you whenever he gets caught up in whatever pissing contest you’ve made up with him. He would be lying if he said it didn’t bother him how much more active and accepted your club is, but he always keeps a cool demeanor. If you knew how much it actually bothered him your ego would inflate more than it already has. 

A month out from Stab-A-Thon, you show up to a Cinema Club meeting. You sit in a back corner of the classroom, physically there but he can tell you’ve mentally checked out before the meeting has even started. You didn’t think he’d let that happen, did you? 

“Before we begin today’s meeting,” Charlie begins, the club members, new and old, quickly shutting up. “I’d like to welcome a very special guest, the president of our school’s very own Music Club,” Charlie says, gesturing to where you’re sitting.

You don’t say anything, just smile and wave at the club members who turn to look at you, but Charlie can feel the irritation radiating off of you when you lock eyes with him. He continues the meeting as usual after that, and unsurprisingly you don’t participate at all. But you stay seated throughout the whole meeting, and even as members file out when the meeting is over, you stay seated. As soon as it’s just you, Robbie, and Charlie, you stand up, making your way to them as they pack up whatever they brought. 

“I need a favor,” you say, leaning against a desk at the front of the classroom. 

“Oh? And what makes you think we’ll help?” Charlie asks, turning around to face you.

“Just hear me out,” you begin to say, but Robbie interrupts you. 

“Make it quick, I’m trying to go home,” he says, grumbling.

“You can go home, it’s just Charlie I need to talk to,” you say, giving him a pointed look for interrupting. 

“Alright, then. Later!” Robbie says, grabbing his things and leaving, no doubt monologuing as he does. 

“Are you gonna hear me out?” You ask, stepping closer to him. 

“Why should I?” Charlie asks, trying to hide his nervousness as you get closer to him. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” you say, breath fanning against his ear as your lips ghost over the skin of his neck.

“H-How?” He asks, fingers gripping the edge of the teacher’s desk he leans against harder. 

“Like this,” you answer, your hand going to undo his jeans. 

The moan he lets out is embarrassing, but you think otherwise, heat pooling in your lower stomach at the sound. He drops his head forward, long hair covering his face, trying to suppress his whimpers as you stroke him over his boxers. 

“Will you hear me out now?” You ask, pulling his head up to look at you with a harsh tug of his hair.

“Yes! Just please, keep going,” he answers, desperate when your movements stop for even a short moment. 

You drop to your knees in front of him, pulling his pants and underwear down. Teasing kisses and bites are scattered across his thighs, and he whines each time you ignore where he needs you most. When you finally take him into your mouth, he nearly chokes on the sound he lets out, hips moving on their own and choking you on his cock. 

“I’m sorry,” he says when you pull off of him, stroking him with your hand while the other massages your throat. 

“It’s okay, just try to keep still,” you say, hand moving from your throat to his stomach, pushing his shirt up his chest to reveal more skin. “As much as I like those sounds you’re making, you need to be quiet. Don’t wanna get caught, right?” You say, voice the slightest bit hoarse from his accidental abuse. 

“No,” he breathes out an answer, stomach tensing the more you work him with your hand, trying to keep still like you said. 

“Good boy, then bite your shirt,” you instruct, holding the hem of his shirt up to his mouth, letting him bite the rolled up fabric. “You’re such a pretty boy, Charlie,” you say, hand moving down his chest, nails gently scratching his skin. “With such a pretty cock,” you say, kissing his tip before taking him in your mouth again. 

He’s a good size, average in length, but more impressive in girth. Heavy in your mouth, you ignore the ache in your jaw as an ache spreads from between your thighs, wishing he was there instead. Maybe some other time. 

Your hands hold his thighs and hips, keeping him still when he fails to do so himself. You can feel him restraining himself from fucking your face, hands gripping the wooden edge he leans against, moans and whimpers muffled by his now soggy shirt.

Entirely focused on the taste of him, you fail to comprehend his unintelligent cries. Charlie’s trying to tell you he’s close, words muted by his drool soaked shirt, but you’re not listening, not letting up, warm, wet mouth working him to his end. Without thinking, his hands force your head down, nose pressed against his pelvis as he releases down your throat, choking you on his thick head and cum. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, breathing heavily as you pull away and massage your throat, coughing a bit.

“That’s okay, just warn me next time,” you say, rising to your feet. 

“Next time?” He asks as he pulls his boxers and pants up.