#I took way too long trying to think of a reply to you

[strawbrryvyy]

Blush or BLUSH - karina

pairing- yu jimin x stylist!reader

synopsis- As aespas stylist, your job is already hard.What makes it harder is the extremely hot leader who teases you like crazy.

a/n - HIII LOVELIES !!!i hope you like this! IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS SEND!!

Mix and swab, mix and swab.the steps lingered in your head as you did them with precision, one could say that the way you swab the different shades of red -crimson ,cardinal , amaranth just to note a few.The end colour a deep lustful shade of red that when put on your wrist to check the colour seemed as if it could draw in anyone who dared to look too long. The intensity of the hue seemed to capture a mystery, an allure, as if each shade told a secret you weren't quite ready to share. You took a step back and admired the work, your wrist resting delicately on the edge of the vanity table. The deep, seductive red was exactly what you had envisioned, the perfect blend of boldness and grace. It was perfect for her

The her being yu jimin-karina.She was the leader of the current biggest girlgroup in the industry, known for her impeccable style and presence. Her reputation for being both fierce and enigmatic made her the ideal canvas for such a bold creation. You had been thinking of her all along, imagining how the shade would play against her flawless skin, how it would complement her aura of confidence and mystery.Ofcourse along with all of that, she happened to be the BIGGEST tease of the century.The lingering touches as you fixed her gloss, the hooded looks she passed off as being exhausted from schedules and ofcourse, how could you forget?The edgefful whispers that left you gasping for more.As if her praise was the oxygen you breathed, you needed it every second of the day.Thats how you found yourself sending her a selfie of you , the swatches of red barely visible in the photo with the caption “you like??” .Instantly a reply comes with a ‘ding!’

‘Yeah I like.The shade of reds cute too’

The red cutes too?You stared at the message for a moment, the words hanging in the air as your mind raced. It was such a simple reply, but the way she phrased it—casual, almost too nonchalant—left you wanting more. The words didn’t carry the weight of the lingering tension that you knew existed between you two, that subtle but ever-present spark whenever she was around.Your heart skipped a beat as you re-read her message. She had said the shade was cute... but what about you? What about the way your fingers had swiped over her lips to apply that gloss, the way you both found excuses to stand a little too close in the studio, the way your breath caught every time she gave you that signature, teasing smile?But no, she hadn’t mentioned that. Only the color. Only the swatch.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, contemplating your response. Maybe you were reading too much into it. After all, she was a professional, and you were here to create, not to get lost in the games she played. But the silence between each message made it hard not to wonder if she felt the same way.You typed back, your fingers moving with a practiced precision that mirrored the careful strokes you’d just made on your wrist.

"Glad you like it. Maybe I could show you before we try the official look?"

The second you hit send, you felt the familiar rush of nervous anticipation. Was that too forward? Too obvious? Before you could second-guess yourself, another 'ding!' vibrated through your phone.Her reply came instantly, like a knife cutting through the tension.

“Only if I get to have your lips as the applicator,” 

came her playful,  response.As playful as it was, it caused a flurry of butterflies to errupt in your stomach as your eyes widened almost cartoonishly.You stared at her response, the words burning through the screen like a wildfire. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Your heart thudded in your chest, and your mind raced to catch up with the implications of what she'd said. Was she teasing? Or was this her way of pulling you in, slowly wrapping you around her finger with every word, every look, every touch?The butterflies swirled, their wings beating erratically inside you. You couldn’t tell if you were more excited or nervous, but one thing was clear: she knew exactly what she was doing. Her response was just close enough to flirtation to leave you hanging, yet distant enough to make you second-guess her intentions.You quickly pressed your lips together, trying to stifle the sudden surge of heat flooding your face. With one hand, you gently held your phone, and with the other, you reached up to touch your lips, as if testing the air, unsure of whether she was daring you or simply playing with you.

“Is that how you want it?”

 you typed slowly, your fingers trembling slightly, each word calculated and weighted.You held your breath, waiting for her reply, as if you were standing on the edge of something — something thrilling, dangerous, maybe even forbidden.And then, just as you were about to let your nerves take control, another 'ding!' echoed through your phone.

“Don’t keep me waiting then,” 

her message read, paired with a playful wink emoji.You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. She was giving you an opening, a chance to move closer, to cross that unspoken line between professional and personal. 

As you get to the studio that day, your heart was thumping , almost louder than the birds flying in the sky or the people chattering next to you.What if she was once AGAIN just teasing and you played into it again?How would you face her then.it was too late now, as you were infront of the large building doors, fishing for your id card before a hand stopped you,

“Here, baby..i got you,”that smooth sacharine voice that had been running you wild even in your dreams - karina. As she looked at you , you could feel the butterflies once again flurry all throughout you,their wings surely fluttering and stretching inside.You gulped as she tilted her chin down slightly, a smirk playing on her perfectly glossed lips. “What? Cat got your tongue?” she teased, her voice soft but laced with mischief. Her hand lingered a little too long as she handed you her r ID card, her fingers brushing against yours with a deliberate slowness that sent a jolt through your entire body.

You stumbled over your words, trying to play it cool. “I—I was just...waiting ..for you ,” you managed to mumble, avoiding her gaze as you fumbled to put the IDback into her hand as the doors opened with a “you may enter” a robotic voice.The voice you wished you could copy right now. But of course,  with Karina no moment could ever leave you and your face without a rosy hue .

“Flustered , already?” she echoed, leaning in slightly, her breath warm against your ear. “By me, maybe?”Your head snapped up, eyes locking with hers. The playful glint in her eyes was undeniable, and her smirk widened as if she’d caught you red-handed. She was enjoying this far too much, and you were helpless against the power she wielded over you.

“N-no,” you lied, though your voice betrayed you with its slight tremble. “I was just thinking about... the new shade. That’s all.”She chuckled, the sound low and intoxicating. “Mmm, the new shade, huh?” she mused, stepping back just enough to let you breathe again. “I can’t wait to see it on me. But, you know...” She tilted her head, her eyes scanning you with a deliberate slowness that made your knees weak. “I think it looks better on you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your cheeks heat up. Was she really saying this? Or was this another one of her games? It was impossible to tell, and it drove you crazy.

“I—I’ll see you inside,” you stammered, desperate for an escape before your racing heart gave you away completely. You turned toward the studio doors, but before you could take more than a step, her voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Don’t forget,” she called out, her tone dripping with playful seduction, “I’m expecting you to apply it the way I asked.”

You froze, her words replaying in your head like a broken record. Was she really serious? You turned your head slightly to glance back at her, but she was already walking away, her hips swaying with a confidence that only made your mind spin further.

By the time you entered the studio, your nerves were a tangled mess. What did she mean “better on you”  was she teasing once again or was she being serious when she gave yu those looks that made you believe that you were mona lisa and she was Davinci. You  shook your head before  setting up your tools with trembling hands, mentally preparing yourself for whatever was about to unfold. Karina arrived not long after, her presence commanding the room the moment she walked in. She greeted everyone with her usual charm, but when her eyes met yours, the air between you seemed to shift.

“So,” she said, approaching your workstation with a graceful ease. “Show me what you’ve got.”You hesitated for a moment, then picked up the brush and the custom red gloss you’d created. Your hands shook slightly as you stepped closer to her, and she noticed, of course.“Nervous?” she asked, her voice low and teasing.

“Not at all,” you lied, trying to steady yourself. She tilted her head, giving you that knowing smile that sent shivers down your spine.

You lifted the brush to her lips, your fingers brushing against her skin as you worked. The room seemed to fade away, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, and you could feel the heat of her gaze even as you tried to focus on the task at hand.as you continued you found her eyes on you, your lips to be exact before she smirked and gripped your hand that was near her plump lips.

“Thought i said i wanted your lips”her voice low, and steady as you wondered how she could say stuff that would make your heart beat as if there was a competition amongst all the hearts in the world to see whos was the fastest.

“I…I” you could only nod as she gripped your other hand and smiled, her pearly teeth reflecting everything but the way you felt on the inside.

“Go on….put it on” she cooed, as if you were an infant that needed instructions for every action.Still you could only nod once again as she tsked.”speak.. Baby c’mon”

“Okay….”you replied, nearly soulless your cheeks now flared with a deep marron shade that was the doing of karina’s words.

When you finally finished, you stepped back to admire yourself in the mirror. The red looked stunning onyour lips , just as you’d imagined it would on anyone whod wear it. Like paint  It brought outyour  natural beauty, , while highlighting the deepness of your sould on your face “Perfect,” she said softly.She leaned in close, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not the shade….you”You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. She smirked, clearly satisfied with your flustered reaction. Before you could gather your thoughts, she stood up, her hand brushing against yours.“You’ve outdone yourself,” she said, her tone genuine but still tinged with that teasing edge. “But I’m still waiting for you to keep your promise.”

“Promise?” you echoed, your mind struggling to keep up.She turned to face you fully, her smile softening just enough to make your heart ache. “I need to see the shade on me too, don’t I,” she said simply, her eyes flicking to your mouth before meeting your gaze again. “You promised, didn’t you?”You felt your breath hitch, the room spinning as her words sank in. There was no mistaking her intent this time. She wasn’t just teasing. She was daring you. 

Your breath hitched as you felt yourself leaning into her.Her gaze held yours firmly, unwavering, daring you to take the plunge. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to move, to close the minuscule gap between you two. It was as if time had slowed, every sound in the studio fading into the background, leaving only the faint rhythm of your heartbeat in your ears and the soft hum of her presence surrounding you.

Karina tilted her head slightly, a playful smirk tugging at her lips, and you could feel the heat radiating between you. "What’s the matter, baby?" she murmured, her voice low and sultry, drawing you in further. "You’ve got the shade on already. What’s stopping you?"

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as her words wrapped around you like silk. It wasn’t just her teasing anymore—there was something heavier in the air, an unspoken invitation. Slowly, carefully, you brought your hand up to cup her cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against her flawless skin. She didn’t pull away; instead, her eyes flicked down to your lips, her smirk softening ever so slightly.

You leaned in, your breath mingling with hers as the distance between you disappeared. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for what would happen next. When your lips finally met, it was everything and nothing like you had imagined—soft, warm, yet electrifying, as if every nerve in your body had come alive. The taste of the gloss you had so carefully crafted mixed with the faint sweetness of her own, creating a heady combination that made you dizzy.

Her hand came up to rest on the back of your neck, holding you in place as the kiss deepened. It was slow and deliberate, filled with the same kind of precision you’d used to mix the shades of red. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your faces only inches apart. Her eyes searched yours, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through her confident façade.

"That’s the perfect application," she whispered, her tone playful yet heavy with emotion. Her thumb grazed your bottom lip, smudging the gloss slightly as she smiled. "Now it’s my turn to say... I like."You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension in the room breaking just enough for you to breathe again. "Are you always this much of a tease?" you asked, though your voice lacked the edge to make it a true complaint.Her grin widened as she leaned back, folding her arms across her chest. "Only when it’s worth it," she replied smoothly, her gaze never leaving yours. "And you’re very worth it."

For the first time, you felt a surge of confidence rising in your chest. Maybe she had been teasing, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in her words—or the way she looked at you as if you were the only person in the world. Whatever this was between you two, it was no longer a question of if but when.

And from the way her hand lingered on yours as you cleaned up the gloss, you knew that this was only the beginning.

[waitsobs]

THE LONG GAME ⋆˚࿔ chapter thirty!

When popular actress y/n l/n's private account gets exposed, it is revealed that she has a crush on one of the girls from the girl group katseye. y//n tries to de-escalate the situation, but makes it worse, and loses her chance with the girl. The only way she think of winning the girl over is by playing the long game. 

BEDROOM CONFESSIONS

When y/n walked into her room, she froze, her breath hitching in her throat as her heart skipped a beat. She had expected it to be one of her friends, but instead sitting on her bed was a girl with fiery ginger hair.

“Megan?” y/n questioned, confusion seeping through her words as her eyes widened. “What... what are you doing here?” Her chest tightened, as a rush of old feelings flooded her all at once. 

“I texted you, asking if we could talk,” Megan replied, her voice quiet but steady. “You didn’t respond, so… this was the second best option.” A small, almost sad smile tugged at the corners of her lips. 

“Yeah, I was hanging out with Minji. Sorry,” y/n muttered, her words feeling emptier than she intended as she quickly shut the door behind her, a wall of silence falling between them. 

She could feel Megan’s presence like a weight in the room as she made her way to her bed, every step heavier than the last. As she glanced she swears she saw Megan's expression falter for a single second as she sat on the bed, assuring there was a few inches between them.

“I saw,” Megan said, her voice flat, like she was trying to act nonchalant about the mention of Minji, though y/n could feel the tension in the air between them. She cleared her throat, her eyes drifting away for a moment as if gathering courage, before speaking again. “I came here to apologize… for everything. For blocking you, for ghosting you… I’m sorry.”

y/n cut her off before she could say more. “Megan, I already told you, I’m over the whole blocking thing. It’s fine.” But even as the words left her mouth, a heavy bitterness coated them, like she was trying to convince herself more than Megan.

“It’s not fine,” Megan replied, her voice breaking just slightly. She looked at y/n, eyes glistening with something that almost looked like regret. “Everything’s not fine. We haven’t talked in six months, and those were the worst months of my life without you.”

Megan’s words hung in the air, heavy and raw, pulling at y/n’s chest in ways she couldn’t explain. 

“And with the whole blocking thing…” Megan began, her voice trembling with the weight of what she wanted to say, but she was immediately cut off by y/n.

“Megan, you really do—” y/n started, her words sharp, but once again, she was interrupted.

“y/n, please, just let me finish,” Megan pleaded, her voice cracking on the last word. y/n hesitated, nodding in silence, her eyes unreadable but her heart pounding, waiting for Megan to speak.

Megan took a shaky breath before continuing, her words coming out slower, like she was afraid to say them, afraid of how they might sound. “I blocked you the first time because I was genuinely upset. You were pretending like you didn’t even know who I was.” Her eyes flickered up y/n’s. “And then the second time I actually don’t know why I did but now I’m wishing I didn’t.”

y/n didn’t know how to respond. She was frozen, She felt like she was caught in a storm of emotions she wasn’t ready to face. The silence between them thickened, each second stretching on like an eternity, neither of them moving or speaking.

y/n broke the silence, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Megan, I have something to tell you.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at her— everything felt too real. Instead, she turned her gaze away and took a shaky breath. “That private account… was mine.” The words felt like they had weight, a thousand emotions tied to them. “Everything that got leaked… it was me.”

When y/n finally dared to look at Megan, she was met with wide, searching eyes, with an emotion behind them that made her want to look away again.

“What?” Megan’s voice cracked, her expression a mix of hurt and disbelief. “Is that why you lied about not knowing who I am?”

“Yeah. When everything came out… I was scared. It all blew up so fast, and it was the only thing I could think of. I didn’t mean for it to go the way it did.” Her voice wavered.

Megan didn’t let her get any further. Her words were laced with something raw, desperate. “Is everything you said about me true?” she asked, her gaze piercing into y/n’s soul. “About you liking me?”

y/n’s chest tightened, the confession that had been lurking in the back of her mind now spilling out faster than she could control, but now that it was out in the open, there was no turning back.

“Yeah,” y/n breathed out, the words heavy on her tongue. “It was true.”

“Was?” Megan’s voice cracked with the weight of the question, her eyes searching y/n’s face for some kind of answer. “Meaning you don’t like me anymore?”

“Megan, I don’t know,” she said, her voice almost breaking. “It’s complicated. Between the blocking and us making up, and then you blocking me again, and us not speaking for two months... and then six months of silence... which, yeah, was my fault too... it got confusing.

Megan agreed, her voice quiet. “Yeah, I see how that’s confusing, and I don’t blame you. I was playing around with you and your emotions, and I’m sorry.”

Y/n let out a heavy sigh, trying to push down the knot in her chest. “Okay, you’ve got to stop apologizing now. I forgive you.” A small, reluctant smile tugged at her lips, but it was enough to let Megan know things were starting to between them were okay.

Megan hesitated, her eyes still searching y/n’s face. “So… are we good now?”

y/n nodded, her smile softening. “Yeah, we’re good.”

Megan's shoulders visibly relaxed, a breath she’d been holding for what felt like forever finally leaving her. “Okay, well then I guess I’ll go then,” she said, rising from the bed, but her movements were slower now.

Y/n quickly tugged on Megan’s shirt, pulling her back down. “Wait a minute,” she said, her voice a little more playful this time. She couldn’t help herself. “You wanna stay a while and watch D.E.B.S.?”

Megan’s face lit up at the suggestion, her smile spreading wider. “You really know me,” she said, laughing lightly.

The pair sat in comfortable silence for a moment, finally free from the tension. It felt like they were starting over, in a good way, and y/n found herself laughing a little, the weight in her chest lifting with each passing second. They were going to be okay. (Maybe)

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[welcometoyunosworld]

A connection

𝐊𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐢-𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐠 / 𝐆-𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍

𝗦𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗼 / 𝗥𝗲��𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁: 𝘍𝘌𝘔𝘈𝘓𝘌! 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸𝘦𝘥, 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘒𝘱𝘰𝘱, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘎-𝘋𝘙𝘈𝘎𝘖𝘕 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘔𝘜𝘚𝘐𝘊, 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘷𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴.

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘚𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘑𝘪-𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴

𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚: 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 💋

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Being a famous singer and song writer wasn't just about fame or money, your love and passion for those inspired you to make music, the type of music that people can relate to, can vibe to and would absolutely love. You find ways to express your emotions in other ways. Making music, your fashion and your art. You really seek for something, anything, yet you still don't know what you really want.

When you were just a little girl, you'd be on and on about beung famous and rich, about how you'll be the star of the show. Now you're here, in your studio, staring at the blank screen of the computer in front of you as your mind won't leave you alone about your longing for that thing even you don't know. Grabbing a pencil and you sit up straight then began to write, making sure to find the right words or not. Trying to express that feeling of emptiness, feeling of being.. not enough. You feel empty, alone and.. sad.

You had many unreleased songs, most of them were songs about your struggles, pain and loneliness. You didn't plan to release them anytime soon.

You sighed and folded the paper and shoved it in the drawer before you left to get ready for your interview for today. You've been going viral again after one of your old songs started to go viral because it was used for an Edit Video of this one Kpop Idol that you were familiar with. After checking it out, you can't help but smile a bit, G-DRAGON, aka Kwon Ji-yong. Oh he was cute alright. And after that, you were listening to POWER by G-DRAGON on repeat while you were getting ready.

As you finished quickly, you made it just in time. It was bigger than you thought. The room was big, furnitures in the center and a coffee table in front, it was pretty simple, just the room size got you wondering why they need such a big ass room. But still, as your name was announced, you walked into view of the camera with your best smile and greeted the host with a polite smile.

“So Ms. Y/n, what are your thoughts about your old song that's been going viral again even though that song was years ago?” You hummed and took a good moment to think about your answer. “I am really happy that people are liking my old songs too, it brings me great gratitude to all my fans. I don't mind if they would like some or all my old songs, all that matters is that they do enjoy listening to the songs.” You replied with a smile as the host nods and nodded in respect.

“Ah what about the famous edit that blew up? Using your song for the Kpop idol G-DRAGON.” You raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “I love it. The edit it amazing, my song definitely fits the Dragon himself. Very cute if you'd ask me. I had to watch it a few more times because my goodness this is the cutest man I've seen in ages.” You said with confidence and your honesty, you really found him cute, especially the edit.

“Ah so then, your thoughts about G-DRAGON and his music?” You had to take a deep breath, oh you were definitely gonna give them your 𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘁 thoughts.

“I think G-Dragon is very cute, i absolutely enjoy his music. It's just amazing! I just learned more stuff about him after i saw that edit of him. And he definitely ate and left no crumbs for not even hesitating to diss someone or something. His music gets me hyped and motivated, and when i see his cute face i just close my eyes and thank god that i find a REAL man out here. And oh the way he raps, god save me, i wanna hear more of his songs old or new, whatever. G-DRAGON, the living legend, ICON!” The host bust out laughing at the way you describe your answer, but he was satisfied with it and so are you.

At the near end of your interview, it was the last question..

“𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝗚-𝗗𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗼𝗻?”

You nodded with a snap of your fingers. “Yessir, absolutely. I would LOVE to see this man.” You said as you smiled happily though you'd doubt you'd be able to actually meet THE G-Dragon here, but a small part of you wished you would meet him, because you're already becoming a big fan of him, Hell, you wished you knew him sooner!!

“𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗯𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆, 𝗠𝘀. 𝗟/𝗻.”

Your eyes widened as you saw the familiar red hair and head scarf of THE living legend himself. He couldn't help but chuckle at your adorable reaction. “OH MY HEAVENS-” You ran up to him, but you didn't hug him. Oh not yet, you simply stood there, just admiring him which made him chuckle and give you his signature sweet smile. “Oh he's even cuter in person, is this heaven?” That only made him laugh softly and gently pat your head. “You are very gorgeous.” He said softly and he opens his arms for you, to which you gladly hugged him.

That interaction between you and Ji-yong left your fans and his fans in absolute shock. The moment was wholesome and very heartwarming. It was a moment you would never forget, especially when you even saved that photo of you two hugging. Ji-yong, too, couldn't help but keep the photo too, even printing it out and have it somewhere in his stuido. And each time he'd look at it, he can't help but smile softly, missing the warmth of your embrace, the angelic sound of your voice, the excitement and happiness he hears in your voice when you saw him.

After some days, you eventually found his Instagram, and liked his recent posts, even his stories too. You just can't help but miss him, you two didn't even have a proper talk in that interview because he showed up at the END of the interview. You find yourself smiling and giggling when you received a notification that Ji-yong liked some of your posts too.

It started off like that, just showing each other your support and love for music, until it turns into texting each other daily, until it turns into having calls here and there. It's been a long time already, nearly two months, you don't even know, you were just feeling so much more better. After one of his tours, you gave him a surprise visit at the dressing room while he was getting his hair styled. And before he went out, he gently placed a kiss on the back of your hand and said..

“𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘪 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘺, 7𝘱𝘮?”

You couldn't even speak, but you managed to whisper a small “Yes..” and he smiled softly at you, feeling so happy.

You don't even feel that lonely anymore after meeting Ji-yong, that emptiness in you, was slowly going away, replaced with the fast beating of your heart when you were waiting for Ji-yong to pick you up, it took about five minutes or so. He arrived in that shiny car and he rolled down the window, he gave you a little smirk. “What a lovely view.” He said before he got out and led you to the door, opening it for you and even helping you get in carefully.

𝘿𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙢𝙖𝙣.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Aaaaaaa thank you!! Hope you like this one Baes!💋

[aventurineswife]

I have a challenge for you :3

Write the most angsty thing possible for your current fav character!

I'm talking about hurt and NO COMFORT AT ALL. Could be unrequited feelings, MCD, whatever makes you cry the most!

Have fun :)

A Lost Bet

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Unrequited Love, Emotional Manipulation, Power Dynamics, Toxic Relationships, Betrayal, Emotional Hurt, Ambiguous Ending, Aventurine-centric.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, Themes of manipulation, Heartbreak, Unreciprocated feelings, Self-worth issues, Subtle references to past trauma, Heavy focus on emotional pain.

A/N: I probably could've come up with something else, but I remembered that I make you guys suffer nonetheless. My first-ever Aventurine fic was already traumatizing enough that someone actually wanted a second part (not angst ver of it ahaha) of it 🧍‍♀️. Welp, enjoy! 🫶💖

The air was thick with tension, the scent of luxury mingling with the bitter taste of regret. The grand hall of the IPC's high-rise echoed with the hushed whispers of the elite, but to you, the room might as well have been empty. The only thing that mattered was the cold weight of your heart, the hollow pit that seemed to grow larger with each passing moment.

Aventurine stood at the center, a commanding figure draped in his trademark elegance, his eyes flicking between his rivals with calculated precision. His smile, that all-too-perfect mask, never wavered. But you saw it—his hand, hidden behind his back, the subtle tremor that betrayed the façade.

"Another gamble," you thought bitterly. The same game, over and over again.

You watched him, and the truth settled in like a stone in your chest. He wasn’t playing with them. He was playing with you.

You had always admired his brilliance, his charm, his strategic genius. At first, it had been exciting—this dazzling, dangerous man who made life feel like a thrilling chessboard, where every move was calculated and every word was laced with meaning. But now... now, you couldn’t ignore the gnawing ache of your own helplessness. The way he looked at you, like you were one of his many pieces on the board—expendable, replaceable.

You thought you were special. You wanted to believe it, with all your heart. But that was before you understood his game, before you saw the way he treated his allies, his enemies, and you.

"Do you want to know how I can predict every move, every outcome, even before it happens?" Aventurine’s voice cut through the haze of your thoughts, and you were momentarily brought back to reality. He had approached you, his smile like a blade, his words deliberate, venomously sweet.

You looked up at him, trying to mask the pain with a smile that never quite reached your eyes. "Tell me," you replied, your voice distant, hollow.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "It’s simple. I don’t need to predict them. I make them happen. I control the game, every time."

Your breath hitched, and something inside you snapped. He controls everything. The thoughts, the words, the actions—all of it was part of a bigger plan. A plan where you were nothing but a mere spectator. Maybe a pawn, at best.

He stepped back, his gaze scanning the room, as if he had already moved on. "I'll let you in on a little secret," he continued, his voice smooth like silk. "The greatest risk is never losing. It’s letting someone else think they matter."

And then it hit you. That was the cruelest thing about him—he never truly let anyone matter. Not you. Not anyone.

You had never mattered to him, had you? Not in the way you had hoped. Not in the way you had wanted.

"You're not the first to think that," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. It took everything in you not to break. "But I suppose that’s part of your charm, isn't it?"

Aventurine’s smile faltered for just a fraction of a second. He never let his emotions show for long, but you saw it—something fleeting. Something that looked like... regret? No. It couldn’t be. Not from him. You’d never meant that much.

His hand slid away from his back, and for the briefest moment, you saw the glittering ring on his finger, the one that symbolized his control, his power. That was all he cared about, wasn’t it? Power. The gamble. The game. Not you. Never you.

You clenched your fists, the burning realization cutting deep. You had played his game long enough, believed in a love that was never there. And now? Now the cost was your soul.

Aventurine’s voice snapped you from your thoughts. "It’s a shame," he said, his tone shifting, colder now. "I really did think you might be the one to understand. But it seems you’re just like the rest."

The words stung, but you didn’t let him see it. Instead, you nodded, your heart already breaking into pieces. "Goodbye, Aventurine."

And just like that, the final gambit had been played. The stakes had been too high, and you were the one who had lost. He had already moved on.

As you turned away, you heard him speak one last time, his voice detached, as if addressing a passing thought.

“Don’t gamble with things you can’t afford to lose.”

Your steps echoed through the empty hallway, each one heavier than the last. You had been a fool, thinking he could ever love you. In his world, love was just another risk.

And in the end, you were nothing more than a lost bet.

[chobblesomewrites]

I too sent my ask to the wrong place so insert drabble request herd

"You're... Lady Aphrodite?" Grian's eyes flicker from the goddess' face to her toes, repeating this action over and over as if to commit this appearance of hers to memory. Though it seemed difficult to actually gauge what her true appearance was as he couldn't help but see Pearl and his mom separately but also at the same time.

Some weird appearance magic, most likely. Not unusual for the goddess of beauty, Grian thinks.

Aphrodite could probably see the confusion through his wary expression, her grin widening playfully while her eyes squinted in interest, "That I am, little sweet thing," she replied as she fixed herself on the little loveseat she made comfortable on that Grian could've sworn wasn't available in the hotel room last time he was awake.

Mumbo looked equally confused about the appearance of the seat, but even more confused regarding the appearance of the goddess.

Actually, he seemed more nervous than confused, Grian observed. The taller demigod was red in the face and seemed to have a difficult time looking at Aphrodite at all. The child of Hermes shot a look at his best friend, but he avoided eye contact.

This is actually the most nervous Mumbo Grian has ever seen, and they've been through a lot of nervewracking situations together.

They were mid-retrieval quest. An unofficial one actually. No one in the camp took the mysterious disappearance of Grian and Mumbo's little Grumbot seriously so no official search party was given.

'Just make another one.' Yeah, right. Try asking two parents who had lost their kid the same thing.

So they did whatever smart demigod would do: disappear from the camp from long hours of time while avoiding any iris messages to find Grumbot themselves.

"I heard you were in... a bit of a pickle. A little trouble, hm?" Aphrodite broke through Grian's little internal rant (one he's been surprisingly doing often these days). He focused his eyes back on the Pearl-Mom fusion.

He pursed his lips in hesitation, "Not really. Even if you had a way to help us find Grumbot, we don't need it," he lied. Honestly, they've spent most of their week wandering around all the three realms to see where Grumbot has been, having not found any leads at all so the rest of the days were spent hopping from hotel to hotel room as they went through their small evidence of suspected Grumbot locations.

Or rather, they kept arguing over and over again as Grian was stubborn with continuing their travel while Mumbo was stubborn about going home as his anxiety genuinely cannot take anymore monster encounters.

Of course, none of this was unknown to the goddess, rolling her eyes at Grian's attempts at lying to a divine being of all people, "Don't worry, son of Hermes. I wasn't going to help you with that part anyway," she pushed herself off her seat and went on over to the pair. Somehow she made even such a simple thing look graceful.

It made Grian shiver. Even more when Aphrodite placed herself behind in-between them, a supposedly encouraging hand on their shoulders as she made a friendly gesture of pushing them together.

Grian doesn't know if that was him shaking or if he was imagining it. He wasn't that afraid of gods, was he?

He then looked down and only now noticed that Mumbo's shivering hands were squeezing his wrist like crazy. Grian had half the mind to scrunch up painfully from how hard he was gripping, shimmying his wrist out so he could hold Mumbo's hand properly and squeeze back in hopes to comfort him.

It didn't work, considering that Mumbo went even more red and had now squeezed his eyes shut. Grian rolled his eyes and glared up at Aphrodite who was watching on with mirth.

"You're making him nervous."

Aphrodite tilted her head and batted her eyelashes innocently, "Why, is it me that's doing that or is it you?"

Grian fought back a scowl. This is why he didn't like interacting with Aphrodite, always taking on a teasing tone like she knew something he didn't. They then end up talking in circles and circles because she has all the time in the world to lead people on however she likes.

Damn gods.

"What do you want, Aphrodite?" The child of Hermes urged for an answer, tugging Mumbo away from the goddess as he regarded her with annoyance. Not that she took any offense, his annoyance served to amuse her even more.

"Don't give me that, dove. You need me, you know?"

"I don't quite remember a situation where we need the goddess of love and beauty at all."

Grian felt a tug on his hand and he looked up to find that Mumbo had opened his eyes back up to silently plead him to stop his disrespectful tone.

Which, he would've followed otherwise, but he's already exhausted his small bar of patience to this sneak out quest, so he decided to ignore his best friend.

Aphrodite giggled at their little small exchange and leaned over to coo at them, "Clearly you do!" She tapped the two's joined hands. Grian felt himself redden for some reason but kept a terrible stern face.

"Small demigod, I would have thought your camp taught you the importance of getting along with your questmates, especially at such a dangerous time."

Grian had half the mind to take note of how many times Aphrodite has called him 'small' and 'little' and half the mind to tug Mumbo closer to his side defensively, "We get along just fine. Isn't that right, Mumbo?"

Mumbo somehow had the audacity to hesitate before answering, "U-uh, yeah. Somewhat..."

Grian's jaw dropped and he snapped his head to look at Mumbo inquiringly, "What the Hades is that answer?"

"Well, it's- you know! It's been a tough few days!" Mumbo squeaked out.

The child of Hermes furrowed his eyebrows together and looked away with a pout, taking a lot of offense with how Mumbo was wording how they were doing as a pair.

It's not like Grian was treating him too badly. Mumbo was annoying too!

The two looked away from each other and went quiet, leaving room for Aphrodite to laugh at their small banter, "Mumbo, dear, you really have the audacity to be saying those things while you were openly adoring the form you've made of me?"

Mumbo made a noise of embarrassment in the back of his throat in response. His shoulders hiked up to his ears like he was trying to hide away like a turtle, except he disappointedly does not have a shell to hide away in. On the other hand, this reaction and Aphrodite's gentle scolding made Grian much more confused.

He was frustrated and he didn't know to what. Either because Aphrodite, and apparently even Mumbo, knew something he didn't or because Aphrodite was overwhelming his best friend.

Despite Grian's current feelings on Mumbo after multiple arguments, it didn't really feel right to not defend him from whatever's going on, "What are you trying to get at, lady?"

Aphrodite flashed a pointed glare at Grian but was quick to get past the continous disrespect in favor of embarrassing Mumbo even further.

"I'm sure you already know, if you listened to that son of Athena. My appearance is an entirely unique experience to each person."

She took place behind the tall demigod, her hands on Mumbo's shoulders, and maneuvered him with her as she forced the demigod to be face to face with Grian, "Tell me first, Grian dear. What do you see me as?"

"...Like both my sister and my mom at the same time?"

"Extremely sweet of you," Aphrodite smiled slightly, "Now how about you ask Mumbo here what he sees me as?"

The son of Hermes looks towards Mumbo, who couldn't even hold his eyes as he had shutted them in embarrassment again. Grian suddenly felt impatient and he reached out to hold Mumbo's hand to tug at it to get his attention.

It didn't seem to help, and it made Mumbo look like he was about to actually melt into a puddle.

"Mumbo, how do you see her?" Grian asks, wanting to just get this over with. He would've been patient with his best friend if this were a normal situation, but the presence of Aphrodite was not one his mental couldn't really welcome for a long while.

However, Mumbo didn't answer, ending up stammering literally every vowel out without actually saying anything.

Grian groaned impatiently, "It's really not that hard!"

"It is much harder than you actually think it is!" Mumbo squeaked out in defense.

"Just say it!"

"No! You'll make fun of me!"

"Why are you being so-!"

Aphrodite cut them off with a loud click of her tongue, tutting disappointedly at the wondrous display of 'friendship'.

"See? This is why I told you two you needed me."

Grian yells heatedly, "I told you we get along fine! This is just-"

The goddess ignored him as she cooed at Mumbo, ruffling his hair in false pretense of adoration, "Don't worry, darling Mumbo! Your step mother will help you since you've been such a behaved boy!"

"Since when did you consider yourself my mom?" Mumbo squawked in confusion, making a face mixed between disgust and bafflement as she watched Aphrodite grip at both of his and Grian's joined hands, "And wait, what are you planning on doing-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, suddenly caught off guard with how his hand suddenly felt so numb. Grian were better at keeping his expression at bay while Mumbo instinctively tried to tug his hand back.

... But he couldn't?

"My job here is done!" Aphrodite announces with a clap, turning around to leave the hotel room.

Grian didn't seem to catch onto what happened, turning to watch the goddess leave with his jaw agape, "But you didn't do anything?!" He screeched, "Come back here! What did you do!?"

The demigod tried to go after her, doubtful of the fact that she was leaving without doing anything, but he found himself tugged back into place by Mumbo.

Grian tried to tug his hand back, "Mumbo, what are you doing? Let go!"

"I can't..." Mumbo mumbled fearfully.

"What do you mean you can't?"

The son of Hephaestus swallowed nervously and untangled his fingers from Grian, but whenever he tried to actually pull his hand away, his palm wouldn't let up.

He tried again and again to show the problem. Grian's face blanched.

"Oh for Olympus' sake..."

[fuqnia]

I Thought I Was Unique (1) ₊˚⊹♡

♡ kyle broflovski x fem!reader insert | college au, smut

♡ A/N | sorry this took forever, i genuinely struggle writing kyle. this is definitely not one of my best works, but i'm proud as there is some good moments! i really do like kyle, so i'm sorry that i didn't do him justice </3 as usual this is a long one LOL sorry.

♡ C/W | nsfw (18+), all characters are aged up! drinking, inexperienced reader, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, p eating, squirting, kissing, reader is kinda dumb (?)

♡ Synopsis | kyle thought being your best friend was enough—until damien came along. now, the jealousy he buried beneath sarcastic remarks is impossible to ignore. as he watches you drift further away, Kyle’s left wondering if he ever had a chance—or if he’s already lost you for good.

event masterlist | part two ₊˚⊹♡

"Kyle, are you even listening to me?"

You shot him a pointed look as the two of you walked side by side toward the library. Kyle’s gaze was fixed ahead, his brows furrowed slightly, and his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket.

“I am,” he replied flatly, though the monotone delivery screamed otherwise.

“No, you’re not,” you huffed, stepping in front of him to block his path. He stopped abruptly, his green eyes meeting yours with a mixture of annoyance and impatience. “You’ve had that scowl on your face for the last five minutes, which, by the way, is not the appropriate response when your best friend is talking about their existential dating crisis.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “First of all, no one says ‘existential dating crisis’ except you, and that might be why you’re single.”

You gasped, mock-offended. “Excuse me for being self-aware, Mr. Cynic of the Year.”

Kyle sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, fine. I heard you. You’re freaking out about what to wear for your date with Damien. I just don’t get why you’re trying so hard to impress a guy who probably spent this morning journaling about how the rain ‘matches his soul.’”

“What the hell does that mean?” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him.

“It means,” Kyle said, crossing his arms and giving you a sharp look, “that Damien is all image and no substance. He’s, like, the human equivalent of a faux-leather jacket from Wish.

“Jesus Christ, Kyle,” you groaned. “You don’t even know him.”

Kyle threw up his hands in mock surrender, his expression darkening slightly. “I know enough. I know he thinks silver chains and brooding looks make him hot shit. And I know you’re wasting way too much time stressing about impressing a guy who probably uses the word ‘capricious’ in casual conversation.”

“Why do you even care so much?”  you muttered, your face hot.”

“I don’t,” Kyle shot back, but the slight edge in his voice made you wonder. “I care that you’re running yourself into the ground over this pretentious asshole when you could literally do better in your sleep.”

You stared at him, caught between being pissed off and wondering if he had a point. 

You had met Damien a few weeks ago at the beginning of the semester, in one of your shared sociology classes. He had this certain presence, the kind that made people instinctively lean in when he spoke. His dark hair was always perfectly styled, sharp against his pale skin, and he had these striking gray eyes that seemed to study everything—like he was dissecting the world in real time. He dressed like he’d stepped out of an indie rock band’s music video, all sleek black jeans, worn leather boots, and button-ups with just enough undone to show a silver chain beneath. His answers in class discussions were always thoughtful, maybe a little pretentious, but captivating.

You never expected him to notice you, let alone talk to you, but then one day he did. It started with him borrowing your pen when his ran out of ink, followed by a few casual comments after class. Before you knew it, he was sliding into the seat next to you, effortlessly chatting about everything from sociological theory to obscure albums. Then, out of the blue, he’d asked you out. Just like that. He’d said it so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal at all, but you’d been internally screaming ever since.

Kyle must’ve noticed your hesitation because he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face like dealing with you was a full-time job.

“Look,” he started, his tone a little softer but still blunt. “Wear whatever you want. It doesn’t matter. Damien wouldn’t notice if you showed up in a clown suit, and if he does notice, it’s probably just so he can complain about the way it doesn’t match your ‘aura’ or some other pretentious crap.”

Your jaw dropped. “Okay, wow.”

Kyle shrugged, stepping past you and motioning toward the library steps. “I’m just saying, if this is the guy you’re stressing over, I’m not impressed.”

“Well, thanks for the pep talk, Dr. Phil,” you shot back sarcastically, already walking backward toward the Sociology building. “I’ll text you after my classes are done, okay? Maybe you can teach me how to not overanalyze everything and be more like you—effortlessly smug and annoyingly confident.”

Kyle rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Don’t trip and die on your way to class,” he called after you, voice light but laced with affection. “Not that Damien would notice.”

Class finally ended, the professor’s words fading into a dull buzz as students shuffled out of the lecture hall. You stayed seated for a moment, gathering your things at a leisurely pace, before pulling out your phone.

You typed out a quick message to Kyle: “my class is over. u still at the library?”

When you hit send, the notification that his phone was on Do Not Disturb popped up. Of course. You rolled your eyes, shoving your phone into your pocket as you stood. Typical. It wasn’t like he was hanging on your every word, especially when it came to Damien. If anything, he probably preferred not hearing about him at all.

The hallway was crowded, the noise of chatter and the shuffle of feet blending into a familiar campus symphony. You maneuvered through the crowd, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you headed toward your dorm. The walk wasn’t long, but the lingering thought of Kyle’s passive-aggressive silence made it feel a little longer.

It wasn’t like you expected him to be glued to his phone waiting for updates, but a part of you wondered if he just didn’t care. Or maybe he cared too much and was tired of hearing about something he clearly thought was a waste of time. Either way, it stung.

You pushed open the door to your dorm, the faint scent of your floral air freshener barely cutting through the oppressive quiet. As expected, Red wasn’t there. She rarely was, always out doing something that made her the life of whatever party or adventure she stumbled into. Normally, her absence didn’t bother you, but today, the empty room felt suffocating.

You let out a heavy sigh, dropping your bag by the door and kicking off your shoes. You had been counting on Red’s help to figure out what to wear for tonight—her sharp eye and brutal honesty would’ve made this whole process easier. But she wasn’t here, and the weight of the decision fell squarely on your shoulders.

You paced in front of your closet, chewing on your bottom lip. Your fingers twitched nervously at the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head before tossing it onto your bed. “Okay,” you muttered to yourself, stepping toward the closet and gripping the handle. “Just… pick something he’ll like. It’s not that hard.”

But it was that hard. Every piece of clothing you owned stared back at you, a glaring reminder of how none of it seemed to fit Damien’s style. Your usual wardrobe was colorful and comfortable—completely you. But Damien was sleek, dark, and brooding. The kind of person who probably thought wearing black was a personality trait.

With a frustrated huff, you dug through the farthest corner of your closet, pulling out a black, fitted dress Red had convinced you to buy for a Halloween party last year. It was tight in all the right places, with lace detailing and a slightly sheer neckline. Paired with the black ankle boots gathering dust on the shelf, it felt like the kind of thing Damien would approve of.

You slipped into the dress, the unfamiliar fabric clinging to your body in a way that made you fidget. Tugging at the hem and smoothing the neckline, you stepped into the boots and walked over to the mirror.

The person staring back at you felt alien. The dark silhouette, the sharp edges of the dress, the stark contrast against your usual style—it all screamed Damien. It screamed trying too hard. But wasn’t that the point? You were trying.

You leaned closer to the mirror, your hands fiddling with the lace at the neckline. “Is this what he wants?” you muttered under your breath, your voice laced with doubt. The longer you stared, the more the reflection seemed to mock you.

What was Kyle’s snarky comment earlier? Something about not needing to impress Damien because he wouldn’t notice anyway. You scoffed at the memory, shaking your head as if it would banish the thought. “What does he know?” you whispered, even though a small part of you wondered if he was right.

You sighed, tearing your gaze away from the mirror as the unease twisted in your stomach. Damien better notice. Because if he didn’t… what was even the point of all this?

Crossing the room, you grabbed your makeup bag from your desk and set it down in front of the mirror. The familiar routine of foundation and concealer was oddly grounding, your shaky hands steadying as you worked. The familiar strokes of the brush, the soft dabs of the sponge—it was comforting, like muscle memory guiding you through something that felt normal.

But when you got to your eyes, you froze.

You stared at the neutral palette you always used—soft browns, light golds, and shimmers that never felt too bold. They were safe. Predictable. And completely wrong for tonight.

Your hand trembled as you reached for a darker palette, one you’d barely touched since buying it on a whim months ago. The smoky grays and deep blacks seemed to mock you, daring you to take the plunge. You swallowed hard, gripping the eyeliner pencil like it might slip through your fingers if you didn’t hold tight enough.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the dorm’s air conditioning. “Just do it. It’s not that hard.”

But it was hard. Your hand wavered as you dragged the pencil along your lash line, the dark line feeling heavier, bolder than you expected. You leaned in closer, your breath fogging the mirror slightly as you added a dramatic wing, thick and sharp, until it almost didn’t look like your face anymore.

The lashes came next—long, dark, and voluminous. They felt foreign on your eyelids, their weight adding to the unfamiliarity staring back at you.

And as you worked, the silence of the room pressed down on you. You couldn’t stop the thought from creeping in: I wish Kyle were here.

He’d know exactly what to say. He’d probably roll his eyes and call you ridiculous for overthinking all this. He’d tease you, sure, but he’d also tell you what looked good, what worked and what didn’t. Kyle was brutally honest like that, in a way that could cut you down and build you back up all at once.

Kyle had been your constant since childhood. Through scraped knees, middle school insecurities, and late-night talks about whether you’d ever have your first kiss, he’d always been there, grounding you with his sharp wit and unflinching honesty. He had a knack for calling you out when no one else would—like in seventh grade when you tried to impress your crush by wearing glittery blue lipstick, and he deadpanned, “You look like you ate a Smurf.” Or the time in high school when you nervously asked if you were undateable, and he scoffed, “No, you’re just waiting for someone who doesn’t suck—maybe lower your standards just a little, though.” Even if Kyle didn’t consider you his best friend—Stan held that title, obviously—you couldn’t imagine anyone else filling that role for you. He was your rock, your voice of reason, even when his words were sharp enough to sting. But you knew Kyle cared in his own way, enough to tell you the truth, even when it wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

But Kyle wasn’t here. And the absence of his steady, no-nonsense presence made the room feel colder, quieter, and lonelier than you wanted to admit.

You blinked at your reflection, biting your lip as the final touches of your makeup came together. The smoky eyes, the dark lashes, the sharp winged liner—it was bold. Dramatic. Something Damien would like, you told yourself.

But was it something you liked?

You shrugged into your black cardigan, the soft fabric settling over your shoulders like a weak shield. It didn’t fit the look—too cozy, too soft against the sharp edges of the dress. But without it, you felt exposed, like your skin wasn’t your own. You tugged at the sleeves, glancing once more at your reflection. 

Your stomach twisted as you turned away, sinking onto the edge of your bed. The mattress dipped under your weight as you grabbed your phone, unlocking it with a swipe that felt too slow. You scrolled to Stan’s chat, hesitating for a moment before typing. hey, u busy? The message sent, and you watched the screen like your life depended on it. Nothing.

You bit the inside of your cheek, navigating to Cartman’s contact. what’s up? Maybe he’d say something snarky, something that would distract you from the gnawing doubt in your chest. But the seconds dragged on, and his name stayed gray.

Kenny was next. yo, help me out w something. It wasn’t like him to leave you hanging, but the silence was deafening.

Your phone fell from your hands, landing softly beside you on the comforter as a sharp breath escaped your lips. The walls of your dorm seemed closer than usual, the air thicker, heavier. Your hands trembled slightly as you ran them through your hair, trying to ground yourself, but it wasn’t working.

The dress felt too tight, the cardigan too warm, the makeup too much. Everything was too much. What am I even doing? you thought, your head dropping into your hands.

Kyle’s name floated to the front of your mind, uninvited and yet completely necessary. He’d probably hate this. He hated being interrupted when he was in the zone. You could practically hear his voice in your head—sharp, sarcastic, always cutting straight to the point. You seriously couldn’t figure this out on your own?

You frowned, staring at the blank wall in front of you as guilt twisted with the anxiety already brewing in your chest. He was probably still at the library, hunched over some massive textbook or typing out yet another med school application.

Don’t bother him, you told yourself. Figure it out. You don’t need Kyle for this.

But you did. You hated how much you did.

You stood up abruptly, your heart pounding as you grabbed your bag. You paced the room for a moment, chewing on your lip as if the movement would somehow settle the storm in your chest. It didn’t.

“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath, slinging the bag over your shoulder and heading for the door. You didn’t care if he snapped at you or told you off for showing up unannounced. You’d deal with the fallout later.

You made your way out of your dorm building and speed-walked across the empty campus, your pulse hammering in your ears as you prayed you wouldn’t run into anyone you knew. It was Friday evening, and most people had already vacated the grounds, either heading home or off to start their weekends. The deserted paths only heightened your nerves, the sound of your footsteps echoing faintly as you neared the library.

The glass doors slid open with a soft hiss, and you were greeted by the faint smell of old books and disinfectant. The quiet inside felt oppressive, making your anxiety bubble even higher. Without hesitation, you walked straight to the elevator and jabbed the button for the third floor. You rubbed your sweaty hands against the sides of your dress, the fabric doing little to calm the clammy sensation on your palms.

He’s probably still there, you told yourself nervously.

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to the silent expanse of the library’s upper level. It was eerily still, with only two people visible���one slouched over a textbook near the shelves, the other scrolling on their phone near the windows. You bit your lip, glancing around nervously, the thought of Kyle having already left sending a spike of panic through your chest.

Finally, your eyes landed on him. He was tucked into a corner table near the far side of the room, hunched over his laptop. His AirPods were in, his curls a familiar mess as his fingers tapped furiously at the keyboard. Relief washed over you so fast your knees almost buckled.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before making your way over. Each step felt painfully loud despite the carpeted floors, and by the time you reached him, your heart was pounding again.

You slid into the seat across from him, dropping your bag onto the floor with a soft thud. Kyle didn’t look up at first, too focused on whatever he was typing. But then he stopped, his brow furrowing as if he sensed your presence.

When he finally glanced up, a scowl was already etched on his face, his lips parted in irritation—probably expecting some random person to bother him. But the moment his green eyes landed on you, the scowl faltered.

“Wait—” he began, pulling out one AirPod as his expression softened. But his gaze quickly swept over your outfit, his brows shooting up in confusion.

“What…” Kyle trailed off, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned back in his chair. “What the hell are you wearing?”

You stared at Kyle, his question hanging in the air like a challenge, and suddenly it was like a dam broke inside you.

“Does it look bad? Be honest—no, wait, don’t be too honest, because if you say yes, I’ll spiral, but I need you to tell me if I look like an idiot. Like, what was I thinking? This isn’t even my style. I mean, I literally look like I crawled out of some e-girl TikToker’s algorithm. Do you think Damien’s into that? What if he isn’t? What if he takes one look at me and thinks I’m trying too hard? Or, worse, what if he doesn’t notice at all? Like, maybe he’ll just be polite about it, but secretly he’ll be thinking, ‘Wow, she really doesn’t know how to dress.’”

Kyle’s lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyebrows pulled together slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face as he glanced briefly at his laptop. You didn’t notice, too lost in the chaos of your own thoughts, twisting the fabric of your dress between nervous fingers.

“And my makeup—ugh, is it too much? I mean, I’ve never done a smokey eye before, and it seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I’m worried I look like a raccoon. Or, like, someone trying to cosplay as a vampire but not fully committing to it. God, why didn’t I just stick with my usual eyeliner? Simple. Safe. Normal. But no, I had to go full-on drama queen because, oh, Damien likes bold looks, right? Or does he? Do I even know what he likes?”

Kyle’s jaw tightened slightly, his hand shifting to rest against the edge of the table. He still didn’t say anything, his green eyes watching you closely now, his gaze unreadable—not because it lacked emotion, but because it seemed to hover somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

“And what if my dress is wrong? It’s black. Classic, right? But what if it’s not his version of black? Like, what if he likes… edgier black? I don’t even know what that means, but I feel like it’s a thing. Do I look too try-hard? Or not try-hard enough? God, I probably look like I’m trying to impress him. Which I am! But it’s, like, obvious, isn’t it? Am I overthinking this? Kyle, am I overthinking this?”

You barely paused for breath, your fingers digging into the table as you leaned forward. “And what if he doesn’t like me at all? Like, not just the dress or the makeup, but me. What if this whole thing is a pity date and he’s just doing it to be nice? What if he—”

“Are you done?” Kyle’s voice cut through your frantic rambling like a knife, calm but firm.

You froze mid-sentence, blinking at him, startled by the interruption. His mouth was slightly open, like he was about to sigh, and his brows were arched in a way that screamed, “Are you serious right now?” His gaze wasn’t indifferent anymore—it was laced with the kind of tired fondness that only came with putting up with someone you cared about, even when they were driving you insane.

Kyle leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he fixed you with a look that managed to be both irritated and patient. “Seriously. Are you done? Or is there more?”

Your face flushed as you realized how far you’d spiraled, your words tangling in your throat. Your hands trembled slightly as you reached across the table, grabbing his hand without thinking.

“Kyle,” you said, your voice trembling, “I really, really need your help.”

Kyle stilled for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked at your hand wrapped around his. His fingers twitched slightly before he let out a small sigh, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “Alright,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Tell me what’s going on. And this time, maybe try breathing between sentences, okay?”

You took a deep breath, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap. “Do I… look good?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

Kyle studied you for a moment, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned forward, letting go of your hand and resting his elbows on the table. He didn’t say anything right away, which only made your stomach churn harder. Finally, he let out a small sigh, tilting his head to one side as if trying to figure out how to word his answer.

“Do you want the brutally honest answer,” he started, his tone deadpan, “or the one that’ll make you stop looking like you’re about to puke on my laptop?”

Your lips twitched, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry. “Kyle, please. Just… tell me.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and letting his gaze trail over your outfit, your makeup, and finally landing on your expression. “You look fine,” he said, his tone even, but then he quickly added, “Actually, scratch that. You look good.”

You blinked at him, your brows furrowing. “Just… good?”

Kyle’s lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Would you rather I said you look like a goddess descended from the heavens, ready to smite mere mortals with your beauty? Because I can do that if it’ll help.”

Your cheeks burned, and you shook your head. “No, I just—ugh, I don’t know what I was expecting. I’m not fishing for compliments.I just… I need to know if I look like me, or if I look like I’m trying too hard.”

Kyle’s expression softened at that, and he tapped his fingers lightly against the table. “Alright, I’ll give you the real answer. Do you look like you? Not exactly. This whole goth-y, smokey, whatever-you’re-doing thing isn’t your usual vibe. But does it look bad? No. It’s different, but it works. You pull it off.”

You stared at him, your breath catching in your chest. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Kyle said, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal. “You’re overthinking it. Like you always do. Damien’s not gonna be analyzing your makeup or whatever. He’s gonna see you, the same person you always are. That’s what matters, right?”

You wanted to believe him, but doubt still gnawed at you. “What if he doesn’t like it?” you whispered.

Kyle’s jaw tightened slightly, and for a moment, he looked like he was biting back a sharp remark. Instead, he let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “If he doesn’t like it,” he said carefully, “then he’s a fucking idiot. And he’s not worth all this stress you’re putting yourself through.”

The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten, and you found yourself nodding, even as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “Thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth tugged into the faintest of smiles. “Yeah, yeah. Now, are we done here? Or do you want me to give you a breakdown of your accessories next?”

You shook your head, settling back into your chair. “No, we’re not done.”

Kyle’s brows lifted, and he tilted his head, giving you a look of mock exasperation. “Oh, great. What now? Are we dissecting your shoe choice?”

“No,” you said, your tone firmer than before. “I wanna know what first dates are like.”

That made him pause. His teasing expression dropped, replaced by something more serious, though his lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re seriously asking me?” he said, his voice measured but tinged with disbelief.

“Yes, I’m seriously asking you,” you replied, frustration creeping into your voice. “You’ve dated, what, like ten girls? You have experience.”

Kyle’s shoulders stiffened, his fingers curling slightly against the edge of the table. “Okay, first of all, ten is an exaggeration,” he muttered, his gaze darting briefly to the side. “Second, why are you even asking me? You’ve probably read more romance novels than I’ve had dates.”

“Because books aren’t real life!” you snapped, throwing your hands up. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or say. What if there’s an awkward silence? What if he doesn’t like me?”

Kyle exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “God, you’re overthinking this. It’s not a job interview. You sit, you talk, you eat. That’s it. Done.”

Your frustration boiled over, and you leaned forward, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Easy for you to say, Mr. I-Can-Date-Whoever-I-Want. Not all of us have your stupid… whatever you have!”

Kyle blinked, his mouth parting slightly, as if taken aback by your outburst. For a moment, the two of you stared at each other, the tension thick between you. Then, he sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned back in his chair.

“Look,” he began, his voice softer but still carrying his usual bluntness. “First dates… they’re awkward. They’re supposed to be. You’re figuring each other out. But if Damien’s not willing to sit through some awkwardness to get to know you, then he’s not worth it.”

You bit your lip, his words settling over you like a weight. “But what if—”

“Stop,” Kyle interrupted, holding up a hand. “Seriously. You’re gonna be fine. Just be yourself.” His gaze softened, and for once, there was no sarcasm in his tone. “If he doesn’t like that, then he’s the idiot. Not you.”

You blinked at him, his words settling over you like a weighted blanket. For a second, you thought you might actually relax, but then the nerves came rushing back, bubbling over before you could stop them. “But, like… what does a first date even look like? Am I supposed to, I don’t know, laugh at everything he says even if it’s not funny? What if I say something dumb and he judges me for it? Or—”

Kyle let out a sharp exhale, dragging his hands down his face like he was trying to physically hold onto his patience. “You’re doing it again,” he muttered. “You’ve got to chill. Seriously. Just talk to him. It’s not that comp—”

“What was your first date like?” you blurted, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Kyle froze, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Why does that matter?” he asked cautiously, leaning back slightly like he wasn’t sure where this was going.

“Because I don’t know what I’m doing, Kyle!” you shot back, your voice trembling as you gestured wildly. “I’ve never been on a date. I’ve never kissed anyone—not for real, anyway. I’ve never had someone look at me like I actually mattered. And now, here I am, with someone who might actually like me, and I don’t want to blow it!”

The rawness of your confession lingered between you, and for a moment, Kyle’s sharp features softened, a flicker of concern crossing his face. But then he shook his head, his lips pressing into a stubborn line.

“Nope,” he said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not telling you.”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” he replied, his tone flat but his eyes glinting with defiance. “What my first date was like has nothing to do with your existential crisis.”

You slammed your hands down on the table, leaning in so close that Kyle instinctively pulled back. “You’re going to tell me,” you hissed, your voice low and menacing. “Or I’ll call Sheila, crying, and tell her you did something to me.”

Kyle’s eyes widened, his face flushing an almost comical shade of red. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I absolutely would,” you replied smugly, crossing your arms as you leaned back in your chair. “I’ll even throw in some fake sobbing to make it sound extra dramatic.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kyle groaned, rubbing his temples like the weight of the world was suddenly on his shoulders. “You’re an actual menace, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” you shot back, your smirk growing. “So spill. What was it like?”

Kyle glared at you for a long moment, the muscles in his jaw working as if he were physically restraining himself. Finally, he slumped back in his chair with a heavy sigh. “Goddammit,” he muttered under his breath.

Your hands clapped together excitedly, a wide grin spreading across your face. “I knew it! Your first date was with Heidi, wasn’t it? You mentioned it once, like, forever ago, but you never said what happened. Spill, dude!”

Kyle shot you a withering look, his eyes narrowing as if debating whether or not to humor you. “Are you seriously this invested in something that happened in middle school?” he asked, his tone dripping with disbelief.

“Yes, I’m seriously this invested,” you replied, crossing your arms with a determined glare. “Come on, I want the details. Where did you go? What happened? Did you wear something embarrassing?”

Kyle scoffed, but as you waited for him to answer, a familiar thought crept in. The boys rarely talked about their relationships in front of you. Whether it was Stan’s on-again, off-again drama with Wendy or Kenny’s stories about his flings, the conversations always seemed to stop short when you were around. You had a hunch it was because you’d never had anything to contribute—no first date stories, no breakups, no experiences to commiserate over. It was like they didn’t want to remind you of what you didn’t have. And while you knew they meant well, it still stung.

Kyle groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fine,” he said, his tone reluctant. “But don’t expect some big, romantic thing. It was middle school. Everything about it was stupid.”

You leaned forward eagerly, ignoring his grumbling. “Okay, so what happened?”

Kyle slouched back in his chair, crossing his arms as he stared at the ceiling like he was trying to summon the memory from the depths of his brain. “Heidi asked me out first, which should’ve been my first clue it was gonna be a mess. She told me to pick where we’d go, so I panicked and said we could meet at the arcade after school. I thought it’d be low-pressure—play some games, get a soda, whatever.”

“That actually sounds cute,” you admitted, tilting your head.

“Yeah, except I showed up wearing a hoodie with a giant ketchup stain on it because I didn’t notice it until I was already there,” Kyle muttered, his ears turning slightly red.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. “Oh no.”

“Yeah, she didn’t mention it, but I could tell she noticed,” Kyle continued, shaking his head. “Anyway, we played some games—she destroyed me at air hockey, by the way—and it was actually kind of fun. I thought, ‘Okay, maybe this isn’t so bad.’ But then we went to get snacks, and I spilled half my soda on her shoe.”

“Oh, Kyle…”

“I know!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “I was mortified. I kept apologizing, and she kept saying it was fine, but I could tell she was annoyed. I thought for sure she’d never speak to me again after that.”

“But she did?” you prompted, intrigued.

Kyle sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “Yeah, she did. When the arcade was closing, I walked her home because her mom wasn’t there to pick her up. Right before we got to her door, she, uh… kissed me.”

Your eyes widened, and a nervous laugh bubbled out of you. “She kissed you? Like, on the lips?”

“Yes, on the lips,” Kyle muttered, his cheeks turning pink. “And then she just said, ‘Thanks for walking me home,’ like it was no big deal, and went inside. I stood there for, like, five minutes trying to figure out if that actually happened or if I imagined it.”

You froze as Kyle’s words sank in, your stomach twisting at the thought. A kiss. You barely heard the rest of what he said because your brain was spiraling into panic mode.

“On the lips?” you repeated faintly, sitting up straighter.

“Yes,” Kyle said again, slower this time, his eyebrows furrowing. “Are you okay? You’re looking at me like I’ve got two heads.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you pushed your chair back with a sharp scrape, rounded the table, and plopped down into the seat directly next to him. Kyle blinked in confusion, but before he could say anything, you grabbed his sleeve, your fingers twisting nervously.

“What if Damien tries to kiss me?” you blurted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Kyle blinked again, his lips parting slightly. “...What?”

“What if Damien tries to kiss me on the first date?” you repeated, your voice rising as panic seeped into your tone. “I don’t know what to do! What if I screw it up? What if I’m bad at it? Kyle, I’ve never kissed anyone before!”

Kyle exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face like he was bracing himself for a train wreck. “Oh my god,” he muttered. “Here we go.”

“I mean, technically, I’ve been kissed,” you continued, ignoring his exasperation. “But it doesn’t count because Kenny was high as hell at Clyde’s party, and he thought I was Tammy fucking Warner! And you spit out your drink when it happened, Kyle! You spit out your drink!”

Kyle closed his eyes briefly, his lips pressing into a tight line as he let out a long, measured sigh. “Yeah, I spit out my drink because Kenny was groping your hair like a creep, and you just stood there like a statue.”

“It was mortifying!” you wailed, throwing your hands up. “And now I’m going on a date with Damien, who’s, like, a whole other level of sophisticated. What if he expects me to be good at it? What if I mess it all up?”

Kyle opened his eyes, fixing you with an unimpressed stare. His lips were set in a straight line, and his eyes were as sharp as ever. “It’s not some cosmic test. If Damien tries to kiss you, you just… kiss him back. That’s it.” he said flatly

“That’s it?” you repeated, your voice incredulous. “Kyle, it’s not that simple! You’ve kissed people before—you don’t get it!”

Kyle snorted, shaking his head slightly. “Look, if it’s freaking you out that much, go practice on someone. Get it out of your system before your big date. Problem solved.”

“You’re so helpful,” you snapped, throwing your hands in the air. “Who the hell am I supposed to practice with? My date is in less than 30 minutes! What, should I just grab a stranger off the quad?”

Kyle’s mouth opened, likely to say something scathing, but you didn’t give him the chance. Instead, you lunged toward him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you tried to physically push him out of his seat.

“You!” you yelled, your voice shrill with desperation. “You’re gonna help me! Get up!”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Kyle barked, shoving back against you. His chair scraped against the floor as he dug his heels in, his lips pressed into a hard line of disbelief. “I’m not doing this!”

“You said I should practice! Who else am I gonna practice with?!” you shouted, your weight leaning into him as you tried to push him upright.

Kyle’s hand shot out, slapping over your mouth to stop your tirade. “Shut up before the entire library thinks I’m murdering you,” he hissed, his eyes darting around. A couple of heads turned your way, but Kyle shot them all a glare that made them quickly look away.

You mumbled something against his palm, your words muffled and unintelligible, but the damp sensation against his skin made it clear you were licking his hand.

“For fuck’s sake—” Kyle groaned, pulling his hand away and wiping it on his jeans with a look of utter disgust. “You’re like a feral dog.”

“I’m literally asking for help here!” you spat, crossing your arms. 

“And I’m trying to help!” Kyle snapped back. With a long-suffering sigh, he turned to his laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard. “If you’d stop acting like a lunatic for five seconds—”

He paused, then spun the laptop around to face you. The screen displayed a WikiHow article titled How to Kiss Someone. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a smirk. “There. Study up.”

Your eyes narrowed as you scanned the article. “Are you serious right now?”

“As a heart attack,” he replied dryly, looking far too pleased with himself. “Read the diagrams. Learn something.”

You glared at him but reluctantly turned back to the laptop. The WikiHow article stared back at you, its bright illustrations and overly simplistic instructions almost mocking in their unhelpfulness. Tilt your head slightly. Close your eyes. Relax your lips.

Your chest tightened with every word, frustration building with each vague instruction. “What the hell does ‘relax your lips’ even mean?” you muttered under your breath, scrolling down as a lump began to form in your throat. The cheerful, clinical tone of the article felt like a slap in the face.

You gripped the edge of the table, your breathing shallow as the panic started to creep in. I can’t do this. I’m going to screw everything up, and Damien’s going to laugh, or he’ll just look at me like I’m pathetic. The thought of his cold, gray eyes filled with judgment made your stomach churn.

Why does this feel so impossible? The realization hit like a punch to the gut: this wasn’t just about tonight. This was about all the moments you felt left behind—watching everyone else grow up and move on while you stood in the same place, pretending it didn’t bother you.

Kyle’s voice snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. “Hey.” It was softer than you expected, almost hesitant. You glanced up to see him watching you, his tone carried something that almost resembled concern. “You good?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off, but your voice betrayed you. “Yeah. Fine,” you muttered, staring down at the table as your nails dug into your palms.

Kyle sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair like he was bracing himself for something. “Look,” he began, his tone awkward and reluctant. “Kissing’s not that complicated, okay? Just—” He waved a hand vaguely, his attempt at reassurance painfully half-hearted. “Lean in. Make sure you’re not smashing your nose into theirs. And don’t do that weird fish-lips thing people do in movies. That’s it.”

You stared at him, heat rising to your face as the lump in your throat threatened to choke you. “That’s it? That’s your big advice?” Your voice cracked, frustration and embarrassment bubbling over.

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Pretty much. I mean, what do you expect me to say? There’s no step-by-step manual.”

You let out a bitter laugh, your head falling into your hands. “This is a disaster,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m going to screw this up so bad.”

Kyle’s exasperated groan broke the tension, but it only made your chest tighten more. “You’re not going to screw anything up,” he said sharply, leaning forward. “It’s a kiss, not brain surgery.”

“But what if—”

“Stop,” Kyle interrupted, his tone snapping like a rubber band. He reached out suddenly, grabbing your hands and forcing you to look at him. “Do you just want to practice on me?”

The words hung between you like a live wire, crackling with tension. Your heart stumbled in your chest, your breath catching as his question settled over you. “What?” you managed to whisper, barely able to process what he’d just said. You weren’t serious about you practicing on him earlier, you were just so worked up and panicked about Damien.

Kyle sighed again, his grip on your hands tightening slightly, grounding you despite the whirlwind in your head. “You’re spiraling,” he said, his voice lower now, steadier. “If you don’t stop, you’re going to psych yourself out so bad you won’t even show up to the date. So, yeah. If it’ll help you stop freaking out, then fine. Practice on me.”

Your thoughts collided, tangling into a chaotic mess. The idea of kissing Kyle, your best friend, felt so far-fetched, so surreal, that you almost laughed. But at the same time, there was a pull, a strange comfort in the fact that it was him offering this. He’s safe, you thought. It’s just Kyle.

Your heart pounded like it was trying to escape your chest. “You—you’re serious?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your gaze searching his for any sign of a joke.

“Dead serious,” Kyle replied. “But decide fast, because I’m not sitting here all night while you freak out about this.”

Your hands trembled in his grip, and you swallowed hard, your heart thundering in your ears as you tried to find your voice. “Okay,” you said finally, barely audible. “Okay.”

Kyle’s face turned an alarming shade of red, the tips of his ears glowing as he avoided your gaze. He glanced around the quiet floor, his sharp green eyes darting to the two other students seated far away, confirming no one was paying attention. Still, he muttered under his breath, his words a string of half-cussed frustrations. “This is so fucking stupid.”

Before you could respond, he scooted his chair closer to yours, the legs scraping faintly against the floor. His hands tightened around yours, his grip firm but not rough, grounding you in a way that made the tension in your chest ease ever so slightly.

“Y-You don’t have to,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or anything. I—”

“Shut up,” Kyle interrupted, his voice low and clipped. He still wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed on some arbitrary point past your shoulder. “It’s fine. Let’s just get it over with.” His voice wavered slightly, but his words carried an unyielding bluntness that could only belong to him.

You blinked, caught off guard by his tone, and he finally turned his eyes toward you. They softened just a fraction, but the pink in his cheeks deepened as he muttered, “This changes nothing, alright? We’re still friends. Just friends. Don’t… don’t get weird about it.”

The sheer awkwardness of the moment sent your emotions into overdrive. Relief and embarrassment collided in your chest, making your breath hitch. It’s just Kyle, you reminded yourself, though the thought wasn’t as comforting as you wanted it to be. “Okay,” you whispered again, your voice cracking slightly. “Just friends.”

Kyle’s grip on your hands tightened once more, and he exhaled sharply, almost like he was psyching himself up for something monumental. His jaw worked like he was chewing over words he wasn’t ready to say, and when he finally looked at you, the vulnerability in his expression was something you hadn’t seen before.

“Don’t make this a big deal,” he muttered, though the way his eyes flickered nervously over your face said otherwise.

Your gaze dropped to his lips, your breath catching in your throat. The air between you felt heavy, thick with unspoken emotions that made your heart pound so loudly you were sure he could hear it. You didn’t say anything, too afraid that any words might shatter the fragile moment.

Kyle hesitated, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His voice dropped to a near whisper, so soft you almost missed it. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”

Your eyes lifted to meet his, wide and uncertain, but you nodded. “Okay,” you said, your voice barely audible, your fingers tightening slightly against his as you leaned in instinctively.

His lips met yours, and for a moment, everything felt… manageable. But the second he began to move his mouth against yours, panic surged. You leaned in too fast, bumping his nose with an awkward thud that made both of you flinch.

“Jesus,” Kyle muttered, pulling back and rubbing his nose. His brows furrowed, but there was an edge of amusement in his voice. “You trying to break my face or something?”

“I’m sorry!” you blurted out, your face burning with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to—I was trying to…” You trailed off, unable to finish as you covered your face with your hands.

Kyle sighed, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was holding back a laugh. “Okay, let’s try this again, but, like… aim better this time.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “I’m trying!”

“I can tell,” he deadpanned, his eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s the problem.”

You groaned, dropping your hands and shaking your head. “Fine. Let’s just do it again. No more aiming for your nose. Got it.”

Kyle leaned in again, his expression a mix of determination and exasperation. This time, as his lips met yours, you managed to avoid his nose, but in your desperation to keep up, you tilted your head too far, effectively smashing your mouth against his in a way that felt clumsy and awkward.

Kyle broke the kiss, pulling back with an incredulous look. “Are you serious right now?”

Your face burned hotter than ever, and you shrank back, covering your face again. “I said I’m sorry! This is hard!”

He let out a short, sharp laugh, not quite amused but more in disbelief. “It’s not rocket science. It’s just a kiss.”

“Easy for you to say,” you mumbled into your hands.

Kyle sighed, his lips pressing into a straight line as he reached out to pull your hands away from your face. “Okay, look,” he said, his voice quieter now, but still laced with his usual edge. “We’re practicing. That’s the whole point, right? You’re supposed to be bad at it. Stop freaking out and just… follow my lead this time.”

You nodded reluctantly, swallowing the lump in your throat as he leaned in again. “This is so embarrassing,” you muttered, your voice barely audible.

“Yeah, well,” Kyle sighed, his voice tinged with exasperation. “You agreed to this.”

His hand came up to cup your cheek, the smoothness of his palm grounding you as he leaned closer. When his lips met yours, it was softer than before, slower, and you could feel the deliberate way he guided the kiss. He was giving you time to adjust, to fall into the rhythm he set.

You tried to focus, to match his movements, but your nerves kept you stiff. Your shoulders tensed, your hands clutched awkwardly at your lap, and your breath hitched in short, uneven bursts.

Kyle pulled back slightly, his lips brushing yours as he murmured, “Relax. It’s just me.” His voice was low and steady, with an uncharacteristic gentleness that made your chest tighten.

You nodded faintly, exhaling shakily as you forced yourself to loosen your shoulders. His lips found yours again, this time with more intention. The warmth of his mouth was overwhelming, but his touch remained careful, his thumb brushing along your jawline as if to reassure you.

When he tilted his head, angling the kiss, your breath caught again. His movements grew bolder, his tongue flicking against your bottom lip. You gasped softly, your lips parting instinctively, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue slid against yours, slow and deliberate, coaxing you to respond.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as you tried to keep up. His tongue moved with confidence, the pressure and rhythm steady, and your heart pounded in your chest as a warmth spread through your entire body.

Kyle’s other hand slid into your hair, threading through the strands as he tilted your head slightly to better angle the kiss. The shift made you gasp again, and the sound seemed to spur him on, his tongue tracing along yours in a way that made your knees feel weak, even though you were sitting.

Your mind was racing, a frantic swirl of disbelief and confusion that you struggled to push aside. This is crazy, you thought, your hands tightening slightly on Kyle’s shoulders. You were kissing Kyle—your best friend since you were kids. The one who teased you about your braces in middle school, who shared his notes when you bombed a math test, who walked you home when it was too dark for you to feel safe alone. Kyle, who probably never even thought about kissing you, not once, not until this ridiculous, desperate practice session. And yet here you were, feeling his lips move against yours with a confidence that made your heart race.

Your breaths grew shallow, soft pants escaping between kisses as you leaned further into him, your body instinctively seeking his. The closeness was intoxicating, his scent filling your senses as his hands held you steady. The kiss was consuming, every part of you hyper-aware of the way his lips moved, the heat of his touch, the way his chest rose and fell against yours.

When Kyle finally pulled back, his breathing was heavier than before, his lips slick and slightly swollen. His face was flushed, a deep red spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, and his green eyes darted away from yours as if searching for something to focus on.

He ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath, “Jesus Christ.” He cleared his throat, his voice a little uneven as he finally looked at you again. “Okay, so… not bad for a first real kiss, I guess.”

You stared at him, still breathless, your chest rising and falling as you tried to process what had just happened.

Kyle’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you, and his expression turned serious. “But you need to loosen up more,” he said, his tone shifting into something almost instructional. “You’re way too tense. I could feel you holding your breath half the time.”

You blinked at him, your cheeks heating further as his words sank in.

“And,” he continued, his blush deepening as he spoke, “don’t just sit there. Move a little. Match the rhythm. Kissing isn’t supposed to feel like one person’s doing all the work.”

Your lips parted as you tried to come up with a response, but he kept going, his eyes avoiding yours as he muttered, “And stop clenching your hands so hard. You’re not fighting me, you’re—ugh, never mind.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his expression a mixture of flustered and annoyed. “Look, just… try to relax next time, okay? You’ll get it.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, like he was about to say something else but decided against it. He glanced at you briefly, then back down at his laptop, muttering, “You’re lucky I even helped you with this.”

You pressed your hands to your cheeks, the warmth radiating from your skin almost unbearable. Your heart was still pounding, and the ghost of his lips lingered on yours, leaving a faint tingle that you couldn’t shake. “Thanks,” you whispered, not trusting your voice to say much more.

Kyle didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on his screen, though the stiffness in his posture told you he’d heard you. You let out a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself as you reached into your bag for a makeup wipe and your lipstick.

Brushing your fingertips against your lips, you noticed the smudge in your reflection on your phone screen. Great. Your lipstick was smeared, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it had transferred to Kyle. The thought made your stomach flip uncomfortably.

Digging out the wipe, you turned your attention to him, and before he could react, you cupped his cheek, gently forcing his face toward you.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kyle protested, his eyes wide with confusion and just a hint of annoyance.

“Hold still,” you muttered, focusing on the faint smear of color on his lower lip. The sight made your heart skip a beat, but you pushed it aside, carefully dabbing at the corner of his mouth with the wipe.

Kyle flinched slightly, but he didn’t pull away. “I could’ve done this myself, you know.”

“You should be thanking me,” you countered, still focused on cleaning him up.

“Yeah, thanks,” he muttered, his voice laced with sarcasm, though he stayed perfectly still as you wiped away the smudge.

When you were satisfied, you leaned back and applied a fresh coat of lipstick to your own lips, all while Kyle stared at you with an expression somewhere between exasperation and disbelief.

“Happy now?” he asked, his tone dry as he turned back to his laptop.

You didn’t answer, your fingers brushing against your lips again, feeling the tingle that refused to fade. Instead, you focused on packing up your makeup, trying to ignore the way your hands still trembled slightly.

Kyle’s fingers clacked furiously against his keyboard, but his usual precision was off. His cheeks were still flushed, the tips of his ears burning red, and you could see his jaw tighten as he typed, clearly trying to focus on something—anything—that wasn’t you.

You got up, watching him for a moment, guilt creeping in. He didn’t have to help you with this. You knew how stressed he was, buried under med school applications and coursework. You shouldn’t have interrupted his study session, but here he was, your unfailing constant, helping you anyway.

Without thinking, you moved behind him, leaning down to wrap your arms around his shoulders. He stiffened immediately, his hands pausing over the keyboard. “What the—”

“You’re the bestest friend ever,” you murmured, pressing your cheek against the top of his head. The soft curls tickled your skin as your fingers gently combed through his hair. “I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Kyle sputtered, his hands hovering like he wasn’t sure whether to push you off or let you stay. “C-cut it out,” he stammered, his voice coming out higher than usual.

You ignored him, smiling softly as you hugged him tighter. “Nope. Just let me have this moment, Broflovski. You deserve the praise.”

“Insufferable,” Kyle muttered, though his voice was less annoyed and more resigned.

“I mean it,” you continued, straightening up but keeping your hands resting on his shoulders. “Everything’s going to be fine, you know. Damien’s not going to know what hit him. And it’s all thanks to you.”

Kyle snorted, finally glancing up at you with a look that was equal parts exasperation and disbelief. “You’re seriously giving me way too much credit. It’s not like I did anything that—”

“Shut up, yes, you did,” you cut him off, squeezing his shoulders playfully. “You’re the reason I’m not curled up in my dorm crying right now.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes darting to the side as if avoiding yours. “Yeah, well…” he muttered, shifting awkwardly in his chair. “Just… don’t tell anyone about this, okay? Seriously. Not a word.”

Your grin widened, teasing lacing your voice as you leaned down closer to his face. “Why? Afraid people will think you’re actually nice?”

Kyle rolled his eyes, though the faint flush in his cheeks deepened. “No, I’m afraid they’ll think I’ve lost my goddamn mind, letting you drag me into this,” he shot back, though his tone was light.

You smiled at him, picking up your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. For a moment, you just looked at him, thinking about how much he put up with for your sake. Kyle might’ve been blunt and sarcastic, but he was also steady—your constant when things felt overwhelming. You knew how stressed he was, how much he had on his plate, and yet here he was, helping you prepare for a date with someone he clearly couldn’t stand.

The buzz of your phone in your hand broke the moment. You glanced at the screen, unlocking it to reveal a text from Damien: “heading over now. see you in like 10. :)”

Your heart jumped, and a squeal escaped before you could stop it, echoing in the quiet library. Kyle winced, giving you an incredulous look as he rubbed his ear. “What the hell, dude?”

Ignoring his protest, you spun the phone around to show him the message, your grin threatening to split your face in two. “He’s on his way! Damien is literally coming to pick me up!”

Kyle leaned back, squinting at the screen like it personally offended him. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he muttered under his breath, “Lucky you.”

You smacked his arm lightly, your excitement bubbling over. “Kyle! This is a big deal! He’s literally coming to pick me up. Like… this is happening!”

Kyle’s expression didn’t change much, his green eyes flicking from your phone to your overly enthusiastic face. “Yeah, I can see that,” he said flatly. “Congrats. Hope it’s everything you dreamed of and more.”

“Oh, come on!” you laughed, playfully shoving his shoulder. “Can’t you at least pretend to be happy for me?”

Kyle sighed, shutting his laptop with an audible click. “I’m ecstatic,” he deadpanned, resting his chin on his hand. “Really. Over the moon.”

You rolled your eyes at his tone, turning your attention back to your phone. You used the screen as a makeshift mirror, adjusting the neckline of your dress and smoothing your hair. Your hands trembled slightly as you wiped away an imaginary smudge of lipstick from the corner of your mouth.

Standing tall, you glanced over at Kyle. He was slouched in his chair, chin propped on his hand, watching you with a mix of indifference and… something else. His brows furrowed ever so slightly, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. He looked tired, like he was holding back a comment that might come out too sharp.

“I’ll text you about how it goes, okay?” you said, your voice trying for lightness but landing somewhere between hopeful and nervous. “Promise.”

Kyle’s lips twitched, but his gaze shifted down to the table, his fingers tapping lightly against the wood. “Yeah, sure,” he muttered. His voice was flat, but there was a faint edge to it, like he was forcing himself to keep his usual sarcasm in check. “Have fun.”

You paused, the smile on your face faltering slightly. Something about the way he said it—it wasn’t dismissive, but it didn’t feel like encouragement either. It felt more like resignation, like he was bracing himself for something.

“Thanks for everything,” you said softly, your voice carrying an undercurrent of gratitude you hoped he’d catch.

Kyle gave a noncommittal hum in response, his gaze never quite meeting yours. For a moment, you hesitated, watching him in the dim library light. His jaw was tight, and his hand gripped the edge of the table as if he were steadying himself.

But you didn’t press him. With a deep breath, you grabbed your bag, adjusted it on your shoulder, and turned to leave.

As you walked away, you thought you heard him mutter something under his breath, but when you glanced back, his face was turned toward his laptop again, the screen reflecting in his eyes.

Time slipped by unnoticed, and Kyle found himself leaving the library long after the sun had set. The night air was crisp, and Kyle welcomed the bite of the cold against his flushed face. It gave him something else to focus on besides the turmoil in his chest. He shouldn’t feel like this. You were his best friend, practically a second sibling at this point. Sure, he’d kissed you. Sure, it had been… different. But that didn’t mean anything.

Right?

Kyle shook his head, his curls bouncing with the motion. His sneakers scuffed against the concrete as he walked, the faint hum of the campus nightlife buzzing in the distance. The tension in his chest only grew the closer he got to his dorm, and he groaned under his breath.

Why did it feel like this? Why couldn’t he just shrug it off? He’d kissed plenty of people before—casual flings, some serious—but this… this felt like something he couldn’t compartmentalize.

By the time he reached his dorm, his fingers were trembling, whether from the cold or something else entirely. He fumbled with his keys, muttering curses under his breath as they jingled uselessly. Finally, the door clicked open, and he stepped inside.

Stan was sitting cross-legged on his bed, earbuds in as he scrolled through his phone. He looked up briefly, giving Kyle a once-over before going back to his screen. “You good?” he asked casually, pulling one earbud out.

“Yeah, fine,” Kyle muttered, kicking off his sneakers and tossing his bag onto his desk chair. He slumped onto his bed, leaning back against the headboard with a heavy sigh.

Stan didn’t push, probably sensing Kyle’s mood. But as the room settled into silence, save for the faint sound of music leaking from Stan’s earbuds, Kyle’s phone buzzed.

He ignored it at first, but the buzzing continued, insistent. With a huff, he pulled his phone from his pocket. Your name lit up the screen, and his stomach twisted.

"omg kyle the date was AMAZING!! damien even said i looked incredible 😭 and he kissed me!! can u believe it??"

Kyle stared at the message, the words blurring slightly as his grip tightened on the phone. His chest felt heavy, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. He unlocked the phone, reading the message again. And again.

You were exalted. You’d had the perfect date, and Damien—the asshole Kyle had spent the past week silently resenting—had kissed you. Complimented you. Held you, probably.

Kyle locked his phone, tossing it onto the desk without replying. The silence in the room felt oppressive now, like it was pressing down on him.

“Who was that?” Stan asked, his voice cutting through the tension. He pulled both earbuds out, watching Kyle with mild curiosity.

“[Y/N],” Kyle replied shortly, running a hand through his curls.

Stan raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t she have that date tonight? Guessing it went well?”

Kyle let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and humorless. “Yeah, it went fucking great. She’s over the moon. Damien kissed her.”

Stan winced, sitting up straighter. “Ah, shit.”

Kyle didn’t respond. His fingers drummed against his thigh, his jaw tight as he stared at the ceiling. The confession sat on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it down, unwilling to let it out.

Stan sighed, running a hand over his face. “You like her, don’t you?”

Kyle didn’t answer immediately. His eyes flickered to Stan, and for a moment, he looked like he might deny it. But instead, he let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I do.”

Stan nodded, leaning back against his headboard. “That sucks, dude.”

“Yeah,” Kyle echoed, his voice hollow. “It does.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, both boys lost in their own thoughts. Kyle picked up his phone again, staring at your name on the screen, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. But no words came.

He left you on read.

Kyle stabbed at his salad like it had personally wronged him, the plastic fork creaking under the pressure. Across the table, Cartman was in the middle of an overly dramatic retelling of his latest triumph—something about humiliating some poor freshman who dared to question his "undeniable genius" in one of his psychology classes. Kenny was egging him on, occasionally choking on fries as he laughed at Cartman’s ridiculous embellishments.

Stan sat silently, methodically peeling the label off his water bottle, his eyes flicking to Kyle every few seconds. He didn’t need to say anything to know Kyle was having a nervous breakdown. It was written all over his face—the clenched jaw, the tense shoulders, the way he refused to meet anyone’s gaze.

“You good, dude?” Stan finally asked, his voice low enough to be drowned out by Kenny’s cackling and Cartman’s exaggerated monologue.

“I’m fine,” Kyle muttered, stabbing another piece of lettuce like it owed him money.

“Sure, because nothing screams ‘fine’ like trying to commit a hate crime against your salad,” Stan deadpanned, leaning back in his chair.

Before Kyle could retort, Cartman cut in, his voice dripping with mock concern. “Oh no, is Kahl feeling moody again? What’s wrong, Princess? Did someone forget to bow when you walked into the dining hall?”

“Fuck off, Cartman,” Kyle snapped, his grip on the fork tightening.

Cartman smirked, leaning across the table. “Seriously, though. What’s your problem? Is it because [Y/N]’s off playing dress-up with her hot-topic boyfriend while you’re here sulking like a little bitch?”

The fork clattered against Kyle’s tray as he stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I said, fuck off,” he growled, glaring at Cartman with enough heat to melt steel.

“Whoa, chill,” Kenny said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Cartman’s an asshole, but he’s not wrong. You’ve been acting like you’ve got a stick up your ass for weeks now. What gives?”

Kyle didn’t answer, his chest heaving as he looked between Kenny and Cartman, his fury bubbling dangerously close to the surface.

Stan sighed, setting his water bottle down. “He’s been ignoring [Y/N],” he said bluntly, crossing his arms. “Which, by the way, is a real dick move, considering she’s been texting me, worried about him.”

“Wait,” Cartman said, his smirk growing. “You’re ghosting her? Oh, this is rich. What, is it too painful watching her run off with her eyeliner-wearing Prince Charming?”

“Seriously, shut the fuck up, Cartman,” Kyle barked, but Cartman wasn’t done.

“Admit it, dude,” Cartman said, leaning back in his chair with a shit-eating grin. “You’re jealous. You’ve been in love with her since, like, third grade, and now you’re losing your shit because she’s finally moved on.”

“I’m not doing this,” Kyle muttered, grabbing his bag.

“Where are you going?” Stan called after him, exasperated.

“Somewhere I don’t have to listen to you assholes,” Kyle retorted, storming out of the dining hall.

The moment he was outside, the cool air hit him, but it didn’t help clear his head. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out reluctantly. The screen lit up with yet another text from you. 

“hey kyle! hope ur doing okay :)”

Kyle stared at the message, his chest tightening. He hated himself for the satisfaction that came with ignoring it, for the way it fed some small, bitter part of him. It wasn’t fair—not to you, not to himself—but he couldn’t stop.

He shoved the phone back into his pocket and began walking aimlessly, his thoughts circling the same miserable drain. You were happy. You were with Damien. And as much as he hated every part of it, he couldn’t bring himself to tell you how he felt.

What was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t stop thinking about you? That every time he saw you smile, it felt like someone had punched him in the gut because he knew it wasn’t for him? That the thought of you with Damien made him sick with jealousy?

By the time he made it back to his dorm, his head was pounding. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, greeted by the sight of Stan sitting at his desk, headphones on as he scrolled through his laptop.

Stan glanced up, pulling off his headphones. “You okay?” he asked, his tone cautious.

Kyle didn’t answer. He dropped his bag on the floor and flopped onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling as the weight of everything pressed down on him.

“You’re gonna have to talk to her eventually,” Stan said after a long pause.

Kyle scoffed, covering his face with his hands. “Yeah? And say what? ‘Sorry for being an asshole. By the way, I’m in love with you’?”

Stan didn’t respond right away, and when Kyle peeked through his fingers, he saw the look on Stan’s face—sympathetic but firm.

“It’s better than this,” Stan said quietly. “Whatever this is.”

Kyle swallowed hard, his throat tight. He knew Stan was right. But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

The air in Damien’s dorm was thick, tinged with the faint scent of incense and something deeper, darker—like the storm that always seemed to linger behind his striking gray eyes. His music played low in the background, some brooding indie rock band you didn’t recognize, their melancholic lyrics weaving into the moment.

Damien’s lips moved against yours with deliberate slowness, his touch calculated but unhurried. He kissed like he didn’t care about time, like the world could crumble around him and he’d still be content with his hands gripping your waist. You were perched on the edge of his bed, but when his fingers tightened, he pulled you closer, dragging you into his lap like it was inevitable.

The weight of his hands on you sent a jolt through your nerves. You felt the heat of him even through your clothes, and when his lips parted, his tongue brushing yours in a teasing stroke, it stole your breath.

He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss. His movements were confident but not rushed, like he knew exactly how to unravel you bit by bit. Your fingers tangled in his dark hair, your nails grazing his scalp as he let out a quiet groan, the sound reverberating through you.

Damien’s hands slipped lower, finding the curve of your ass, his grip firm as he squeezed. A soft moan escaped you, muffled by his mouth, and you felt him smile against your lips—smug, almost. Like he was proud of himself for pulling that sound from you.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” Damien murmured when you broke apart briefly, his voice low and rough, his breath fanning against your skin. A faint string of saliva still connected you, catching the dim light before it broke, and he smirked like he’d won something.

You wanted to snap back with something witty, but your thoughts were clouded, muddled by the feel of him. “Guess I’m full of surprises,” you managed, your voice shaky as you tried to catch your breath.

“Mm,” he hummed, leaning back slightly, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to read you. “That so?” His thumb traced a slow circle on your thigh, his other hand still gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d pull away.

The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flip. There was something unnerving about how he looked at you—not predatory, exactly, but like he was dissecting you, picking you apart piece by piece and filing you away for later.

Your lips parted to say something, anything, but then he was kissing you again, his mouth stealing the words before they could form. This time, it was slower, darker somehow, as if he wanted to take his time with you. His teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp.

That sound—it was like a spark to gasoline. His tongue slid against yours, deepening the kiss, and you melted into him, gripping his shoulders for support. His hands moved again, squeezing your ass like it was second nature, and the soft sound you made in response sent a shiver up your spine.

He pulled back, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “You’ve been holding out on me,” he muttered, his tone laced with amusement but carrying that edge of something darker, something uniquely Damien.

You couldn’t help but laugh, though it came out breathless and shaky. “Or maybe you’re just bringing it out of me,” you replied, trying to sound casual, but the way your voice wavered gave you away.

He smirked, his thumb brushing the side of your jaw. “I could get used to this,” he murmured, his tone softening slightly, though his eyes still held that stormy intensity.

You tried to relax into the moment, to ignore the small, nagging voice in the back of your mind that whispered you didn’t belong here—that this wasn’t really you. But Damien’s hands and the heat of his lips grounded you, kept you tethered to the present, even as doubt clawed at the edges.

You leaned in to kiss him again, desperate to shake off the unease that clung to you, and he met you halfway, his movements smooth and practiced. His lips pressed against yours with a precision that felt almost too perfect, as though he’d done this countless times before—and maybe he had. That thought burrowed into the back of your mind, unwanted and distracting, as your tongue met his in a rhythm you were still struggling to master.

Your hands, unsure of what to do, hovered for a moment before one drifted to the hem of his jeans, your fingers lightly brushing the fabric. It was meant to ground you, to give you something to focus on besides the chaos inside your head. You didn’t even realize how charged the gesture might seem until Damien groaned softly into your mouth—a sound low and rough that sent a jolt through your chest.

You jerked back instinctively, your breaths uneven. “Are you… okay?” you asked, your voice trembling, your gaze darting over his face as if searching for an answer.

Damien’s lips pulled into an easy, amused smile, his gray eyes glinting in the dim light. “You’re cute,” he said, his tone effortlessly calm, as though nothing could faze him.

Heat surged into your cheeks, and you stammered, words tripping over each other. “I—I wasn’t trying to—um—sorry, I didn’t mean—”

His soft chuckle cut through your flustered rambling, a sound that felt both reassuring and maddening. “Relax,” he murmured, his hands still steady on your waist. His thumbs brushed over the fabric of your skirt, his touch gentle but charged.

You tried to follow his instruction, to let go of the tension knotted in your shoulders, but it wasn’t that simple. Your thoughts were tangled, shifting between the moment you were in and the lingering questions that never seemed to leave you alone. Damien was right here, holding you, touching you, and he liked you—didn’t he? That should’ve been enough to push everything else aside, but it wasn’t.

Your fingers tightened around the hem of your skirt, a subtle attempt to steady yourself, but it did little to calm the discomfort settling in your chest. What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just enjoy this?

Damien’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Can I touch you?” he whispered, his tone low and intimate, his fingers brushing the edge of your skirt.

Your heart stuttered at his words, and you froze. Heat rushed through you, and uncertainty quickly followed. Did you want this? Could you even handle this right now? You swallowed hard, your throat dry as the weight of his question hung in the air.

You focused on the present—the way his hands felt on your waist, the heat radiating from his body, the intensity of his gaze. This was what you’d been hoping for, wasn’t it? The moment you’d dreamed about when you thought of Damien—the effortless allure, the magnetic confidence, the way his presence seemed to pull you in without even trying.

But something about it felt off. Like you were trying to force a puzzle piece into a space it didn’t quite fit.

“The party,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper, “it’s soon, so maybe… not?”

Damien stilled for a second, his hands loosening their grip on your waist. You held your breath, half expecting him to push back or, worse, to shut down entirely. Instead, a low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he pulled back slightly to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, all good,” he said, his voice smooth, like nothing had fazed him. “No pressure or anything.”

He cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone as he leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. It was slower this time, softer, like he was dialing everything back to put you at ease. The tenderness of the gesture was almost disarming, and for a brief moment, you forgot the knot of unease in your chest.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his gray eyes searching yours, his tone lighter now. “For real, don’t stress about it,” he murmured. “We’ve got all the time in the world, yeah?”

The casualness of his words was both reassuring and frustrating. You nodded weakly, forcing a smile as his hands moved from your face to your waist again, his grip looser now.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice wavering slightly.

“Don’t sweat it,” he replied, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “But maybe we should make sure you don’t show up to this party looking like you’ve been… I don’t know, thinking too hard or something.”

You let out a weak laugh, the teasing in his tone lightening the tension. “Thinking too hard?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah,” he shot back, leaning casually against his headboard, his grin lazy but amused. “You’ve got that look on your face like you’re solving world hunger or some shit. Let me guess—freaking out about whether your lipstick’s smudged?”

Despite yourself, you laughed again, rolling your eyes as you adjusted your skirt. “Shut up.”

“Just saying,” he teased, nudging your chin up with his knuckle. “Relax a little. We’re about to go get wasted in someone’s trashed living room. It’s not that deep.”

He stood, stretching slightly before brushing his fingers through his dark hair, fixing a strand that had fallen out of place. His confidence and ease felt like a stark contrast to the quiet storm in your chest.

As you adjusted your appearance in the mirror, you wondered if you were putting too much weight on tonight. If maybe Damien wasn’t the issue, and you were just too caught up in trying to make things perfect. But even as you told yourself to relax, a flicker of doubt lingered, quiet but stubborn.

The night air was cold, but inside Kenny’s beat-up pickup truck, it was pure chaos. The windows were cracked open just enough to let in the smell of cigarettes and damp earth, mixing with the lingering scent of fast food wrappers shoved under the seats. The engine groaned with every bump in the road, and the muffler was definitely dragging somewhere behind them.

Kyle sat stiffly in the passenger seat, gripping the door handle as though his life depended on it. He hated this truck—he hated the way it rattled and creaked, the way the passenger door didn’t quite close all the way, and the fact that the seatbelt was frayed and probably not even functional. But what he hated even more was the conversation happening in the backseat.

“Man, Kyle, I’m honestly impressed,” Cartman started, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the back of Kyle’s seat. His grin was wide and full of malice, the kind of grin that meant he was gearing up for something terrible. “You’ve got balls, dude. Showing up to this party knowing damn well you’re gonna have to watch Damien stick his tongue down her throat all night? That’s some masochist-level shit right there.”

Kyle’s jaw tightened, and he stared straight ahead, refusing to take the bait.

“Oh, come on,” Cartman pressed, clearly delighted by the lack of response. “You’re just gonna sit there and pretend you’re totally fine with it? ‘Oh, it’s cool, she’s only dating Damien—you know, the guy who probably writes shitty poetry about her in his Moleskine journal. No big deal.’”

“Cartman, shut the fuck up,” Kyle muttered, his voice low and strained.

“Seriously, dude, what’s your plan?” Kenny chimed in from behind the wheel, his voice light but teasing. “You’re just gonna stare at her all night and hope Damien spontaneously combusts? Because, uh, spoiler alert: that’s not gonna happen.”

Kyle turned his glare on Kenny, but before he could say anything, Stan finally looked up from his phone, his tone flat. “Will you guys just leave him alone already?” He shot Kyle a quick look in the rearview mirror, one that said I’ve got your back—but also, you’re an idiot. “You’re not exactly helping.”

“Helping with what?” Cartman crowed, his grin widening. “Stan, are you telling me Kyle actually thinks he has a shot with her? Oh my God, that’s even better than I thought!”

“Cartman,” Kyle snapped, his voice sharp, “I swear to God, if you don’t shut the fuck up—”

“What?” Cartman interrupted, leaning even closer, his tone mockingly sweet. “You gonna cry, Kyle? You gonna get all teary-eyed thinking about how she’s probably sitting in Damien’s lap right now, twirling her hair and giggling at all his deep, brooding observations about life?”

Kenny snorted, one hand loosely gripping the wheel as he glanced over at Kyle. “For real, though, dude. Are you gonna do something about it, or are you just gonna keep sulking and jerking off in your dorm while she’s out with him?”

Kyle’s face turned an alarming shade of red. “You guys are fucking assholes,” he muttered, sinking lower into his seat.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cartman said, waving a hand dismissively. “But, like, seriously, when are you gonna stop being such a little bitch about this? Everyone knows you’re into her. Even she probably knows you’re into her, and she’s still choosing Damien over you. That’s gotta sting, dude.”

Kyle clenched his fists in his lap, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to snap back, to tell Cartman to go fuck himself, but what was the point? Everything Cartman was saying—everything Kenny and Stan weren’t saying—was already running on a loop in Kyle’s head.

He hadn’t wanted to admit it at first. He’d tried to brush it off, to tell himself he didn’t care when you’d started hanging out with Damien. But then you’d told him about your first date—how amazing it was, how Damien had kissed you—and something inside him had cracked.

Kyle had never been in love before. He didn’t have anything to compare it to, but he figured it had to feel like this—like a constant, gnawing ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away. Like every time he saw you smile at Damien, it was a punch to the gut. He hated it. He hated feeling like this, and he hated that he’d never even realized how much you meant to him until it was too late.

Now, every time you sent him a text about Damien, his stomach twisted in knots. Every time you laughed at one of Damien’s jokes, Kyle wanted to throw something. And every time he saw you with Damien, he felt like an idiot for thinking he’d ever had a chance.

Stan knew, of course. Kyle had confessed it to him after that first date, after you’d sent him that text about Damien kissing you. He hadn’t planned on telling anyone, but Stan had a way of getting the truth out of him without even trying. And while Stan hadn’t exactly been helpful—his response was basically “that sucks, dude”—at least he hadn’t laughed. At least he hadn’t made Kyle feel worse than he already did.

But Cartman? Cartman was relentless. And Kenny wasn’t much better.

“Look, man,” Kenny said after a moment, his tone surprisingly serious. “You can either sit here and let Damien win, or you can grow a pair and tell her how you feel. Your call.”

Kyle let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, because that’s gonna go great. ‘Hey, I know you’re dating Damien, but I’m in love with you. Wanna make things super fucking awkward?’”

“Why not?” Cartman said, smirking. “At least then she’ll know. And when she inevitably rejects you, we can all move on with our lives. Win-win.”

“Jesus Christ, Cartman,” Stan muttered, rubbing his temples. “You’re such a dick.”

“What?” Cartman said, feigning innocence. “I’m just being honest.”

“Honest or not,” Kyle snapped, “no one asked for your opinion, so do me a favor and shut the fuck up.”

The truck fell into a tense silence for a moment, the only sound the faint hum of the engine and the bass-heavy music blasting from Kenny’s shitty speakers.

Finally, Kenny pulled up to the curb outside the party. The house was already packed, the music loud enough to shake the windows. People spilled out onto the lawn, red Solo cups in hand, and the faint smell of weed lingered in the air.

“Alright, we’re here,” Kenny said, throwing the truck into park. “Time to drink away our collective shame.”

Stan climbed out first, stretching as he stepped onto the grass. “God, I need a drink already.”

Cartman followed, brushing crumbs off his jacket. “I’m heading straight for the snacks. Later, bitches.”

Kenny glanced at Kyle, who was still sitting in the passenger seat, staring at the house like it was the last place on earth he wanted to be.

“You coming, or what?” Kenny asked, raising an eyebrow.

Kyle sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”

Kenny smirked, patting him on the shoulder as they climbed out of the truck. “That’s the spirit. Don’t worry—if it all goes to shit, at least you’ll have beer.”

“Great,” Kyle muttered, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as they headed toward the house. He kept his eyes on the ground, scowling at the sight of crushed beer cans and cigarette butts littering the yard. He wasn’t even drunk yet, and he already wanted to leave.

Kenny, on the other hand, was in his element. He grinned as he slung an arm over Kyle’s shoulders, dragging him along like they were on some kind of triumphant adventure instead of a slow march into hell. “Cheer up, Kahl,” Kenny teased, his voice light and playful. “It’s a party! Who knows? Maybe you’ll finally grow some balls and make a move tonight.”

Kyle shrugged him off with a glare. “Can you not?”

“Aw, come on,” Kenny said, laughing as they stepped onto the front porch. “You’re such a buzzkill.”

The front door swung open before Kenny could knock, and the sound of pounding bass and drunken laughter hit them like a freight train. Kyle winced, his shoulders tensing as they walked inside. The living room was packed with people—some dancing, some shouting over the music, and others sprawled across the furniture with beers in hand.

“Ugh, I already hate this,” Kyle muttered, his scowl deepening.

“Yeah, no one cares,” Cartman said, brushing past him to head straight for the snack table. “Have fun wallowing in self-pity, loser. I’ve got a date with some chips and queso.”

Stan rolled his eyes, following Cartman with his hands shoved into his pockets. “Try not to eat the entire table this time, fatass.”

“Fuck you, Stan!” Cartman shouted over his shoulder.

Kenny stayed by Kyle’s side, navigating through the crowd. Kyle’s eyes darted around the room, catching glimpses of familiar faces. Tweek was in the corner, jittering nervously as Craig leaned against the wall next to him, looking completely unbothered as usual. Clyde was nearby, loudly retelling some exaggerated story to Tolkien, who was nodding along politely but clearly not listening.

On the couch, Red, Wendy, and Bebe were huddled together, laughing over something on Red’s phone. Wendy looked up briefly and waved at Stan, who gave her a small nod before disappearing into the kitchen.

Kenny grinned, raising a hand in greeting as they passed. “Yo, what’s up, guys?” he called out.

“Hey, Kenny!” Bebe replied, flashing him a bright smile before nudging Red and whispering something that made her giggle.

Kyle’s scowl deepened as he caught sight of Damien across the room. He was leaning against the wall with that same infuriatingly relaxed posture, his black leather boots crossed at the ankles and a cigarette dangling from his lips. He wasn’t even doing anything—just standing there—but somehow, he still managed to look like the cover of an indie rock album.

Kyle quickly looked away, his stomach twisting.

“Don’t even think about it,” Kenny said, leaning closer to him. “You’re not allowed to start sulking until you’ve had at least one drink.”

“I don’t sulk,” Kyle snapped.

Kenny raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “Sure you don’t. Come on.”

Before Kyle could protest, Kenny steered him toward the makeshift bar set up in the kitchen. It was a sad assortment of cheap liquor bottles, half-empty mixers, and a bucket of melted ice with a few beers floating aimlessly inside. Someone had written “BAR” in black Sharpie on a cardboard sign taped to the wall.

Kenny grabbed two plastic cups and handed one to Kyle before reaching for a bottle of rum. “Alright, dudel,” he said, pouring a generous amount into Kyle’s cup. “Time to loosen up. You’re gonna drink this, and then we’re gonna find something to talk about that isn’t Damien or [Y/N]. Deal?”

Kyle stared at the cup like it was full of poison. “I hate rum.”

“Then drink faster so you can move on to something else,” Kenny replied, adding a splash of Coke to his own cup.

Kyle sighed, taking the cup reluctantly. He sniffed it, wrinkling his nose at the strong smell of alcohol, before taking a small sip. It burned on the way down, and he immediately grimaced. “This is disgusting.”

“Welcome to college, buddy,” Kenny said, clinking his cup against Kyle’s with a grin.

Before Kyle could respond, a voice called out from behind them. “Kenny! Kyle! You guys made it!”

They turned to see Clyde stumbling toward them, already holding a beer in each hand. His cheeks were flushed, and he had that goofy, half-drunk grin that Kyle always found irritating.

“Of course we made it,” Kenny said, slapping Clyde on the back. “Wouldn’t miss the chance to watch Kyle have a mental breakdown in public.”

“Fuck off,” Kyle muttered, taking another reluctant sip of his drink.

Clyde laughed, clearly not picking up on the tension. “Man, this party’s already insane. You guys gotta hit the beer pong table later. Surprisingly, Tweek and Craig are undefeated right now, but I’m calling bullshit on some of their shots.”

“Maybe later,” Kenny said, throwing an arm around Kyle again. “First, I gotta make sure my boy here doesn’t bolt the second he sees [Y/N].”

Kyle froze, his grip tightening on the cup. “Kenny.”

“What?” Kenny said innocently. “I’m just saying, you should at least try to enjoy yourself. She’s not gonna be stuck to Damien’s hip all night, you know.”

Kyle glared at him, his face heating up. “I’m not talking about this right now.”

Clyde tilted his head at the two of them, clearly intrigued by Kyle’s reaction, but didn’t push further. “Alright, well, Tolkien’s probably wondering where the hell I went. You know how he gets—acts like my damn babysitter anytime I’ve had more than two beers.” He took a swig from one of the bottles in his hands before jerking his thumb toward the other side of the room. “I’ll catch you guys later. Oh, and Kyle, if you’re playing beer pong later, you’re on my team. Tolkien sucks at it, and I’m not losing to Craig and Tweek again.” He winked and walked off, rejoining Tolkien, who was still standing by the snack table with his usual air of mild exasperation.

Kenny chuckled, shaking his head as he watched Clyde go. “Man, that guy’s a mess. You gotta give him credit for his energy, though.”

Kyle said nothing, his gaze fixed on the rim of his cup as he swirled the contents inside. His thoughts were already slipping back to the one person he was desperately trying not to think about, and Kenny’s incessant teasing wasn’t helping.

Kenny let out a long, exaggerated sigh, clearly annoyed by Kyle’s silence. “Alright, dude, enough with the brooding.” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Kyle’s wrist, pulling him toward the couch where Wendy, Bebe, and Red were seated.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kyle hissed, stumbling slightly as Kenny dragged him through the crowd.

“I’m saving you from yourself,” Kenny replied without looking back. “You’re a buzzkill, and it’s killing my vibe. Come on, we’re talking to people.”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone,” Kyle muttered, but Kenny ignored him, weaving through the mess of bodies like it was his second nature.

The girls looked up as they approached, their conversation pausing as Kenny flopped down onto the arm of the couch with his usual casual charm.

“Kenny!” Wendy greeted, her dark eyes brightening as she glanced at him, then over at Kyle. “Hey, Kyle!”

Red waved, a grin spreading across her face. “Look who finally decided to join us!”

Bebe, leaning lazily against the back of the couch with a drink in hand, raised an eyebrow as she looked Kyle up and down. “Wow, you actually got him out of his cave? Impressive.”

Kenny grinned, tipping his drink in their direction. “What can I say? I’m a miracle worker. Kyle  here would’ve spent the whole night moping if I hadn’t dragged him out.”

“I don’t mope, you prick,” Kyle said defensively, his face already flushing under the weight of their attention.

“Sure you don’t,” Bebe said with a smirk, swirling her drink. “You always look this miserable, right?”

Kyle shot her a look but didn’t respond, choosing instead to take a sip of his drink. He hoped it would help him tune out the conversation, but it didn’t stop Kenny from throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“So,” Kenny said, glancing at the girls with a grin, “what’s the damage so far? Who’s hooked up? Who’s gotten blackout drunk? Give me the highlights.”

Red laughed, brushing a strand of red hair over her shoulder. “Butters is trying to play DJ but keeps fighting with Jimmy over the aux cord, Nichole and Heidi are arguing about whether Taylor Swift is overrated, and someone already spilled an entire drink on the couch. Pretty standard so far.”

“Nichole and Heidi at it again?” Kenny asked, laughing. “Man, I’d pay to see that. It’s like a weekly debate club with those two.”

“I give it ten more minutes before they start throwing drinks,” Wendy chimed in, rolling her eyes.

Kyle stood stiffly next to the couch, trying to focus on their chatter instead of his own thoughts. But the knot in his stomach refused to loosen, no matter how many sips of rum and Coke he took.

And then, over the noise of the party, he heard it—your laugh.

It pierced through the chaos like a knife, sharp and clear, and Kyle froze, his grip tightening around his cup. His head turned instinctively toward the sound, and there you were.

You were by the beer pong table, standing between Craig and Tweek, holding a bright red Solo cup in one hand. Your cheeks were flushed, and your movements had that slightly loose, carefree quality that only came with being tipsy. You gestured wildly as you spoke, making Tweek laugh nervously while Craig smirked.

Kyle’s stomach twisted as his gaze drifted lower, taking in your outfit. You were wearing a short black skirt with a silver belt, paired with an oversized black sweater that hung off one shoulder. It was edgy, sleek, and completely different from the way you used to dress. Your boots had a chunky heel, making you look taller, and the silver chain around your neck glinted under the dim party lights. Even your makeup was different—darker and heavier, with smudged eyeliner that gave you a dramatic, smoky look.

You looked incredible.

And Kyle hated it.

He hated how much you’d changed to match Damien’s aesthetic, as if you’d molded yourself into his perfect counterpart. He hated the way your skirt clung to your hips, drawing every pair of eyes in the room, including his. He hated the way you were laughing with Craig and Tweek, so at ease, so happy, while his insides were in knots.

But most of all, he hated how his chest ached just looking at you.

“You good, dude?” Kenny asked, leaning closer to Kyle and snapping him out of his trance.

Kyle blinked, tearing his eyes away from you and fixing them on the rim of his cup. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though his voice lacked any conviction.

Kenny tilted his head, following Kyle’s gaze across the room. When he spotted you by the beer pong table, his smirk widened. “Ah. I see what’s going on.”

Kyle bristled, glaring at Kenny out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Kenny said innocently, though his tone was anything but. “I’m just pointing out that someone’s looking real good tonight. Guess Damien’s rubbing off on her, huh?”

Kyle’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “Shut up.”

“Relax,” Kenny said, clinking his cup against Kyle’s. “I’m just messing with you. Besides, if you don’t want to stare at her all night, you could, I don’t know, talk to her?”

Kyle shot him a withering glare. “Yeah, because that’s exactly what I want to do right now.”

“Suit yourself,” Kenny replied with a shrug, leaning back against the arm of the couch. “But if you keep standing here looking like you just lost a fight with a blender, everyone’s gonna notice.”

Kyle ignored him, his knuckles tightening around his cup as your laugh rang out again, bright and unguarded. He hated how easily it cut through him, how it made his chest tighten even as he tried to shove the feeling down.

Red, noticing Kyle’s stiff posture, glanced between him and Kenny. “What’s his deal?” she asked, lowering her voice.

“Nothing,” Kenny said, grinning. “Just loves a good party, don’t you, Kyle?”

Kyle shot Kenny another glare but didn’t respond. Across the room, you were standing with Tweek and Craig, laughing at something Craig had just said. Your cheeks were flushed, and the way you tilted your head back in laughter was enough to make Kyle’s stomach churn uncomfortably.

He tried to look away, forcing himself to focus on his drink, but Kenny wasn’t about to let him off the hook. “Dude, you’re not subtle. You might as well hold up a neon sign that says ‘I’m in love with [Y/N] and I hate myself.’”

“Shut the fuck up, Kenny,” Kyle muttered, gripping his plastic cup tighter.

“Relax, bro,” Kenny said, smirking. “It’s a party. Maybe if you stopped glaring at her like you’re auditioning for The Bachelor, you’d actually have some fun.”

Before Kyle could respond, Cartman and Stan strolled up, Cartman holding a plate of nachos stacked so high it was practically a health hazard. He took one look at Kyle’s face and grinned like a shark smelling blood in the water.

“Aw, what’s wrong, Kahl?” Cartman asked, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “She not paying enough attention to you? Guess that’s what happens when you’re boring as shit.”

“I swear to God, Cartman,” Kyle growled, his knuckles whitening around his cup.

“What? I’m just saying, she’s got options,” Cartman said, gesturing toward you with his nacho plate. “Look at her, all dolled up and smiling like that. If I were her, I’d walk right past you too.”

Stan raised an eyebrow, glancing between Kyle and you across the room. “She does look happy, though,” he said casually, taking a sip of his drink. “She’s been smiling all night.”

Kyle turned to glare at him, but Stan shrugged. “What? I’m just saying. Maybe you should stop overthinking everything and just… go talk to her.”

Kyle opened his mouth to retort, but then he noticed it.

You had left Craig and Tweek, your drink still in hand, and were making your way toward Damien.

Kyle’s heart sank as he watched you walk across the room, your black skirt swishing lightly with each step. You looked confident, carefree, and… happy. Too happy. When you reached Damien, you flashed him that big, bright smile—the kind of smile that used to feel like it belonged to Kyle.

Damien smirked down at you, taking a drag from his cigarette before casually flicking the ash into a nearby beer can. He leaned closer to you, saying something that made you laugh again, your hand lightly brushing his arm.

Kyle’s chest tightened as he stared at the scene, his drink frozen halfway to his lips.

“Uh-oh,” Kenny said, noticing Kyle’s expression. “Here we go.”

“I’m fine,” Kyle muttered, though his voice cracked slightly. He quickly downed the rest of his drink, hoping the alcohol would drown out the growing knot in his stomach.

“Sure you are,” Cartman said, his grin widening. “Meanwhile, Damien’s over there stealing your girl. Guess she’s got a thing for guys who dress like they shop exclusively at Hot Topic.”

“She’s not my girl,” Kyle snapped, his voice sharp. “And I don’t care what Damien does.”

“Oh, you care,” Kenny said with a laugh. “You care so fucking much it’s hilarious. Dude, just look at your face right now. You’re one bad comment away from going full Incredible Hulk.”

Stan chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe you should just go over there,” he said, clearly enjoying Kyle’s discomfort. “Say hi. You know, remind her you exist.”

“Yeah, Kyle,” Cartman said, his voice dripping with faux encouragement. “Why don’t you go introduce yourself to Damien while you’re at it? Maybe he’ll give you tips on how to not be a total buzzkill.”

“Fuck all of you,” Kyle muttered, pouring himself another drink with slightly shaky hands.

But the boys weren’t done.

“Seriously, dude,” Kenny pressed, leaning in with a grin. “You’re just gonna let her laugh at all his shitty jokes like that? You know he probably writes cringe poetry about this shit, right? Like, ‘Oh, [Y/N], the light of my dark soul, your laugh is the melody to my eternal despair.’”

Stan snorted into his drink. “Pretty accurate, honestly.”

Kyle glared at all of them, his face growing redder by the second. “I’m not going over there.”

“Why not?” Cartman said, feigning innocence. “What’s the worst that could happen? Oh, wait, I know—she’ll ignore you and keep talking to Damien, and you’ll have to sit here and watch. But hey, you’re already doing that, so really, you’ve got nothing to lose!”

“God, you’re such a fat piece of shit,” Kyle spat, his voice rising slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Cartman said, waving him off. “Look, either grow some balls and interrupt, or stop staring at her like a creepy stalker. Pick one.”

Kyle’s grip on his cup tightened, his mind racing as his friends’ voices buzzed around him like mosquitoes. Part of him wanted to stay put, to stubbornly refuse to give them the satisfaction of seeing him crack. But the other part of him—the part that couldn’t stand the sight of Damien smirking down at you—was already inching closer to the edge.

“Do it,” Kenny whispered, his voice low and teasing. “Go over there. Be the hero of your own tragic love story.”

Kyle slammed his cup down on the table, the sound cutting through the noise. “Fine,” he snapped, standing up so abruptly that Kenny nearly spilled his drink.

“Holy shit, he’s actually doing it,” Cartman said, wide-eyed with amusement. “This is gonna be fucking gold.”

“Shut up,” Kyle muttered, his fists clenching at his sides as he stormed off toward you and Damien.

“Good luck!” Kenny called after him, grinning ear to ear.

As Kyle pushed through the crowd, his heart pounded in his chest, each step feeling heavier than the last. By the time he reached you, his palms were clammy, and his thoughts were a tangled mess of frustration and adrenaline.

You looked up as he approached, your smile brightening. “Kyle! Hey!”

Damien raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering as he exhaled a plume of smoke. “Well, well,” he drawled, his voice smooth and low. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Broflovski.”

Kyle ignored him, forcing a tight smile as he looked at you. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Your brows furrowed slightly, but you nodded. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

Damien’s smirk widened as he took another drag of his cigarette. “Don’t let me stop you,” he said, stepping aside with an exaggerated bow.

Kyle shot Damien a glare before turning back to you, his stomach churning as he tried to find the words. The alcohol buzzing in his system wasn’t helping—it only made his thoughts heavier and harder to untangle. You were standing so close, your big, tipsy smile softening into concern as you looked at him, your wide, glassy eyes locking on his.

“Kyle, are you okay?” you asked, your voice gentle and warm but slightly slurred. You placed a hand on his arm, squeezing it lightly. “You look… I dunno, kinda stressed out or something. Are you sick?”

“I—uh, no, I’m fine,” Kyle stammered, his face heating up. He was hyper-aware of your hand on his arm, your touch sending a jolt of electricity through him that made his heart hammer in his chest. “I’m not sick.”

“You don’t look fine,” you said, your brows furrowing. “Your face is all red. Did Cartman say something to piss you off again? I swear, I’ll fight him.”

Before Kyle could respond, you turned to Damien, who had been silently watching the two of you with that same lazy smirk on his face. “Hey, Damien,” you said, your voice light and sweet. “I’m gonna take Kyle upstairs for a bit. He doesn’t look too good.”

Damien raised an eyebrow, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Whatever you say, babe,” he drawled, exhaling smoke through his nose.

You smiled at him, completely unfazed. “I’ll find you later, okay?”

“Sure,” Damien said, waving you off lazily. “Take your time.”

You turned back to Kyle, grabbing his wrist with both hands. “Come on,” you said, tugging him gently. “Let’s go somewhere quiet. You look like you’re about to explode or something.”

“I’m fine—” Kyle started to say, but the words died in his throat as you began pulling him through the crowd.

“Shush,” you said over your shoulder, your tone light but firm. “You’re coming with me, and that’s final.”

Kyle had no choice but to follow, his heart pounding as you led him up the stairs. The noise of the party faded slightly as you reached the second floor, and Kyle’s mind raced with a chaotic swirl of emotions: guilt, frustration, and that stupid, unbearable ache in his chest every time you smiled at him.

You pushed open the door to one of the bedrooms and tugged him inside, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The music from downstairs was muffled now, the quiet making the room feel oddly intimate.

You turned to face Kyle, your eyes scanning his face with drunken concern. “Okay,” you said, your voice softer now. “What’s going on? And don’t say ‘nothing,’ because I know that’s a lie.”

Kyle hesitated, his throat dry as he searched for an answer. “It’s not… it’s not a big deal,” he said, avoiding your gaze. “I just needed to get out of there.”

“Bullshit,” you said, crossing your arms. The motion made you wobble slightly on your feet, and Kyle instinctively reached out to steady you. You smiled at him, leaning into his hand for a moment before continuing. “You’ve been acting weird for weeks, Kyle. And now you’re all quiet and broody, and it’s freaking me out. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Kyle stared at you, his chest tightening as the words he’d been holding back for weeks clawed at the edges of his mind. The alcohol in his system buzzed like static, loosening his tongue just enough to make him consider saying them out loud.

But then he thought about Damien. About the way you’d smiled at him downstairs. About how easily he’d called you “babe.”

The knot in Kyle’s stomach twisted tighter, and he looked away, clenching his jaw. “It’s nothing,” he said quietly. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” you said, stepping closer to him. “Kyle, come on. You can talk to me. You’re my best friend.”

Kyle’s heart sank at those words. Best friend. The title felt like a prison sentence, locking him into a role he didn’t know how to escape.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

You frowned, your bottom lip jutting out slightly in a tipsy pout. “Then stop ignoring me,” you said, your voice soft but insistent. “I hate when you shut me out. It makes me feel like… like you don’t want me around anymore.”

Kyle’s chest ached at the vulnerability in your voice, and he swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet your gaze. “That’s not true,” he said quickly. “I do want you around. I just…” He trailed off, the words dying in his throat.

“Just what?” you asked, tilting your head.

Kyle hesitated, his mind racing. He wanted to tell you the truth—to tell you everything. But the words felt too heavy, too dangerous to say out loud.

“It’s complicated,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.

You studied him for a moment, your expression softening. Then, to his surprise, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

“I don’t care if it’s complicated,” you said, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “I just don’t want you to shut me out anymore.”

Kyle froze for a moment, but then he slowly wrapped his arms around you, his chest tightening as he rested his chin lightly on your head.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” you said, pulling back slightly to look up at him. Your cheeks were flushed, and your eyes were glassy from the alcohol, but your smile was warm and genuine. “Just… promise me you won’t avoid me anymore, okay?”

“I promise,” Kyle said, though his voice wavered slightly.

“Good,” you said, grinning. “Now sit down before you pass out or something. You look like you need it.”

Kyle sat down on the edge of the bed as instructed. He stared down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting nervously in his lap. The faint buzz of alcohol in his veins did little to steady his thoughts as the quiet room pressed in on him.

You followed his lead, plopping down beside him with a soft sigh. “God, my feet are killing me,” you muttered, leaning forward to tug at the zipper of one of your boots. You struggled with it for a moment, your fingers fumbling before letting out a small huff of frustration. “Why did I think heels were a good idea? Damien said they looked cute, but these things are, like, torture devices.”

Kyle’s jaw clenched at the mention of Damien, but he kept quiet. Instead, his eyes drifted toward you, watching as you wrestled with your boot. The dim light cast soft shadows across your face, and for a moment, Kyle was struck by how different you looked.

It wasn’t just the makeup—though the smoky eyeliner and dark lipstick were so far removed from your usual style that it almost felt like you were playing dress-up. It wasn’t just the clothes, either, though the short black skirt and off-the-shoulder sweater made you seem like a stranger in your own skin. Something about the way you carried yourself tonight—tipsy, carefree, and so eager to please Damien—felt like a version of you he didn’t recognize.

He hated it.

“Ugh, these boots suck,” you grumbled, finally freeing one of them with an audible thud as it hit the floor. You let out a breath of relief, wiggling your toes through your tights before moving on to the other boot. “I swear, I’m gonna burn these things when I get home.”

Kyle’s lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile breaking through his otherwise tense expression. “You love those boots,” he said quietly, his voice low and edged with disbelief.

“Yeah, well, I loved them before they tried to murder my feet,” you replied, flashing him a lopsided grin. “Tonight might be their last hurrah.”

Kyle didn’t respond. Instead, his gaze lingered on you, taking in the slight sheen of sweat on your brow from the crowded party, the smudge of dark lipstick on the corner of your mouth. You looked… tired. Beautiful, yes, but not the way you usually were.

You caught him staring, your brow furrowing slightly as you set your other boot on the floor with a soft thunk. “What?” you asked, your voice softer now, tinged with curiosity.

Kyle hesitated, his throat suddenly dry. “Nothing,” he said quickly, looking away. He felt his cheeks heat under your gaze, and he cursed himself for being so obvious.

But you didn’t let it go. You shifted closer to him, your knee brushing against his. “It’s not nothing,” you pressed, tilting your head to try and meet his eyes. “You’ve been quiet ever since we came up here. What’s on your mind?”

Kyle clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into fists in his lap. He could feel your eyes on him, and it was unbearable. Part of him wanted to lie, to brush you off with some sarcastic comment or a half-assed excuse. But another part—the part that had been screaming at him all night—wanted to tell you the truth.

“You look… different,” he said finally, his voice low and hesitant.

You blinked, caught off guard by the statement. “Different?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Kyle swallowed hard, his gaze darting to your face before quickly looking away again. “I don’t know. It’s just… the makeup, the clothes… It’s not… you.”

Your brows furrowed, and for a moment, you didn’t say anything. When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, almost defensive. “I thought it looked good.”

“It does,” Kyle said quickly, his words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I mean, you look… amazing. But it’s just… it’s not the you I’m used to. That’s all.”

You frowned, your fingers picking at the hem of your skirt. “Damien likes this look,” you said softly, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself. “He said it suits me.”

Kyle’s chest ached at the mention of Damien again, and before he could stop himself, the words slipped out. “What about what you like?”

Your frown deepened as you turned to face him fully, your body shifting so that your knees touched his. “What does it matter what I like?” you asked. “For the first time in my life, someone’s actually interested in me. Someone thinks I’m… I don’t know, worth noticing. And you… you can’t even be happy for me.”

Kyle froze, his lips parting as he processed your words. “That’s not—” he started, but you cut him off, your voice rising just enough to make him stop.

“Don’t,” you snapped, your hands balling into fists on your lap. “You’ve been ignoring me for weeks. Ignoring my texts, rejecting every time I tried to hang out—like I don’t even matter to you anymore. And now, when I finally feel like someone cares, you’re sitting here questioning me. What’s your problem?”

Kyle felt his frustration bubbling just under the surface, a mixture of guilt, confusion, and the alcohol buzzing in his system. “I don’t have a problem,” he said sharply, his eyes locking with yours. “I just—Damien’s not—”

“Oh, my God, don’t start with that again!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “You don’t like Damien. Fine. But maybe, just maybe, this isn’t about you! Maybe I don’t need your approval for every decision I make!”

Kyle’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching against his thighs. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?!” you demanded, your voice cracking as the anger surged in your chest. “Because all you’ve done since Damien and I started hanging out is act like I’m making some huge mistake. You don’t know him. You don’t even try to get to know him. You just sit there and judge me like… like I’m doing something wrong by being happy for once!”

Kyle opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. He didn’t know how to explain it—how to tell you that seeing you with Damien made his stomach churn, that every time he thought about you two together, it felt like he was losing something he didn’t know how to hold onto.

But before he could even try, you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a low, biting tone. “And don’t think I didn’t notice, by the way,” you said, your eyes narrowing. “The way you’ve been acting ever since that night.”

Kyle’s heart stuttered, and he froze. “What night?” he asked, though he already knew.

“Oh, come on, Kyle,” you snapped, your expression sharp with anger. “You know what I’m talking about. The practice kisses. Remember that? Or are you just going to pretend it didn’t happen?”

Kyle’s face flushed, and he looked away. “I wasn’t pretending anything,” he muttered, his voice low.

“Bullshit!” you shot back, your voice rising. “Ever since that night, you’ve been weird. You won’t talk to me, you won’t look at me—hell, you won’t even answer my texts half the time! What the hell, Kyle? Was it that horrible? Was I that horrible?”

Kyle’s head snapped up at that, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What? No! That’s not—God, that’s not what it is, [Y/N]!”

“Then what is it?” you demanded, your voice breaking slightly. “Because I can’t figure it out. One minute, you’re helping me, you’re… you’re my best friend, and then the next, you’re shutting me out like I don’t even exist. And now, you’re sitting here acting like you care, but all you’re doing is making me feel like I’m doing something wrong. What do you want from me?”

Kyle wanted to say something—anything—to make you understand, to fix the mess he’d created, but the words wouldn’t come. He felt like he was caught in a trap of his own making, his own silence pulling him further and further away from you.

“Nothing,” he said finally, his voice hollow. “I don’t want anything from you.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head as you stood up abruptly, putting distance between the two of you. “Right. Nothing. Of course,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “Well, congratulations. You’re doing a great job of getting exactly that.”

Kyle flinched at your words, but he didn’t move, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His knuckles had gone pale, the tension in his shoulders evident even though he was sitting so rigidly still.

You noticed immediately, the anger draining from your face as guilt flooded in to replace it. "Shit," you muttered, scooting closer to him. Without even thinking, you reached out and carefully pried one of his hands from the mattress, your fingers sliding between his. His palm was clammy and tense, but you held on anyway, squeezing his hand gently.

"I’m sorry," you said softly, looking up at him with wide, apologetic eyes. "I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just… I don’t know. I feel like I can’t talk to you about this stuff anymore, and it really sucks. You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to be the one I can go to about anything, but it feels like every time I try to bring it up, you shut me out."

Kyle’s eyes flickered down to your intertwined hands. With a small shake of his head, he whispered, "You’re right. I have been shutting you out, and that’s on me. I’m sorry, okay? I’m… I’m listening now. I promise. You can talk to me about Damien, or whatever else, and I won’t be a dick about it this time."

Your lips twitched into a small smile, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little. "You mean it?" you asked, your voice quiet, almost hesitant, like you were afraid of pushing too far.

Kyle nodded, his eyes finally lifting to meet yours. "Yeah. I mean it. I’ll actually listen this time. No more… whatever the hell I’ve been doing lately." His voice was soft but firm, like he was trying to reassure both you and himself at the same time.

The smile that spread across your face was so big it made your cheeks ache. You beamed at him, your eyes sparkling with a mix of relief and happiness. "Thank you," you said, your voice filled with genuine gratitude. You shifted your position, pulling your legs up onto the mattress so you could sit cross-legged, still holding onto his hand like it was some kind of lifeline. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

Kyle let out a shaky breath, a small smile graced his features. "You don’t have to thank me," he muttered. "I’m just trying to make up for being an asshole."

"You’re not an asshole," you said quickly, squeezing his hand again. "You’re just… complicated sometimes. But that’s okay. I mean, I’m not exactly the easiest person to deal with either, so…" You trailed off with a small laugh, your free hand brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

Kyle huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You’re easier to deal with than you think," he said, his voice tinged with something almost… fond. But he quickly cleared his throat, looking away as if to hide whatever had just slipped into his tone.

You didn’t press him on it, instead letting the moment hang in a comfortable silence for a few seconds. Then you shifted slightly, leaning your shoulder against his. "So… what do you want to know?" you asked, your voice light and teasing, but with an edge of sincerity. "Because if I’m finally allowed to vent about Damien without getting side-eyes and snarky comments, I’ve got a lot to say."

Kyle groaned, his head falling forward slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "God, you’re really gonna make me suffer through this, aren’t you?"

"Yep," you said with a grin, popping the "p" for emphasis. "You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kyle muttered, though there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Alright, fine. Let’s hear it. What’s the latest Damien drama?”

Your face lit up at his begrudging interest, and without hesitation, you launched into a breathless rant, leaning forward slightly. “Okay, so, don’t laugh. But, um, you know how we… uh… practiced, right?”

Kyle froze for half a second, his smirk fading as his lips pressed into a thin, flat line. His grip on the mattress tightened imperceptibly, though he tried to play it off. “Yeah,” he said, keeping his tone as neutral as possible, though his jaw had already started to clench.

“Right, well, I think it’s actually been paying off,” you continued, oblivious to the way Kyle’s entire posture had shifted. “Damien and I were in his dorm the other day—”

Kyle’s stomach dropped. He could already tell where this was going, and he had no idea how he was going to get through it.

“—and we were making out,” you said, your voice softening slightly as if you were confessing a deep secret. You laughed lightly, looking down at your lap, where your fingers fidgeted nervously. “Don’t laugh!”

“I’m not laughing,” Kyle muttered, his tone clipped as he stared straight ahead.

“Anyway,” you continued, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “we were making out, and then Damien—uh, well, he asked me if he could touch me.”

Kyle’s throat felt like it had closed up. His mind was blank for a moment, his ears buzzing faintly as he tried to process what you were saying. His grip on the mattress edge tightened so much that his knuckles turned white, but you were too lost in your own thoughts to notice.

You laughed again, more nervously this time, and quickly added, “I didn’t know what to do! I panicked and made up some excuse about how we needed to get ready for this party. Like, how stupid is that?”

Kyle's eyes darted to the floor as a wave of irritation, jealousy, and something darker coiled in his chest.

“And I know this is gonna sound dumb,” you continued, still completely unaware of Kyle’s growing anger, “but, like… what does he mean by ‘touch’? Like, do guys have a specific definition for that? Does it mean, like… everything? Or just…”

You trailed off, your cheeks flushing as you turned to Kyle for answers. When you noticed how quiet he was, you frowned slightly. “Kyle, are you listening?”

“Yeah,” he muttered through gritted teeth, not trusting himself to look at you.

“Okay, good, because I have questions.” You shifted on the bed to face him fully, your expression earnest despite the awkward subject matter. “So, like… how does that even work? Like, if he were to finger me or, um, go down on me or something… What are guys even thinking about when they do that? Is there, like, a technique or…?”

Kyle’s head shot up at that, his eyes burning as he finally met your gaze. “Seriously?” he snapped.

Your brows furrowed, taken aback by his tone. “What? I’m just asking. You’re a guy—you should know this stuff!”

Kyle let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Why the hell are you even asking me about this?”

“Because I trust you!” you said, your voice rising slightly in exasperation. “And you’re supposed to be helping me, but you’re just sitting there acting all weird and pissed off! What is your problem?”

“My problem,” he bit out, his voice low and taut, “is that I don’t want to hear about how you’re letting Damien stick his hands down your skirt like he’s auditioning for a fucking porno!”

Your mouth fell open, your cheeks heating up. “What the fuck, Kyle?!”

“I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking!” he snapped, standing abruptly and pacing a few steps away from the bed. His hands balled into fists at his sides as he struggled to keep his voice steady. “You’re sitting here asking me for advice on how to let that pretentious asshole feel you up like it’s some kind of fucking homework assignment, and I’m supposed to just be okay with that?”

You stared at him, your expression caught between anger and hurt. “You’re being a total asshole right now,” you said, your voice trembling slightly.

Kyle laughed bitterly, running a hand over his face. “Yeah, well, maybe I don’t give a shit about Damien and all his ‘techniques.’ Did you ever think about that?”

You stood up, your hands shaking as you pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Why can’t you just be happy for me? Huh? For once in my life, someone actually likes me, and instead of being supportive, you’re acting like a jealous, immature dick!”

Kyle froze at that. For a moment, neither of you said anything. Finally, he turned to face you fully, his green eyes blazing. “You think this is about jealousy?” he said, his voice low and biting. “You think I give a shit about Damien liking you? Newsflash, [Y/N]: I’m pissed because you’re better than this—better than him. But you’re too fucking blind to see it.”

Your lips parted in shock, your heart pounding as his words sank in. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you demanded.

“It means you’re wasting your time with some asshole who only wants you for one thing,” Kyle shot back, his voice shaking with anger. “And the worst part is, you’re letting him. You’re letting him treat you like you’re some… some easy conquest, and you don’t even realize it!”

Your eyes widened, the sting of his words landing like a slap to the face. You blinked, stunned into silence for a split second before the anger surged in your chest. “That’s not true, and you don’t know a damn thing about him! Damien isn’t like that!” You snapped, your voice trembling as much with fury as with hurt. 

Kyle scoffed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Oh, come on. You really think he’s not? Guys like him don’t just stop at making out. They push. They push until they get what they want. And if you think he’s any different, then you’re being delusional.”

Your mouth fell open, but it wasn’t shock that overcame you this time—it was white-hot rage. “You’re such a shitty best friend!” you shouted, the words spilling out before you could stop yourself. “I don’t even recognize you anymore!”

Kyle flinched at your words, but he didn’t respond, his jaw tightening as he stared at you. That only made you angrier.

“You know what’s funny?” you continued, your voice rising. “I didn’t act like this when you started dating in middle school. Or high school. Or whenever the hell you were hooking up with random girls while I sat there and helped you come up with stupid lines to impress them!”

Kyle opened his mouth to interject, but you cut him off. “No! Let me finish!” you snapped. “When you were fumbling through your first relationship or getting ghosted by whatever girl you liked at the time, I was there. I was supportive. I didn’t tell you that you were being stupid or delusional, or that you were wasting your time. I actually cared about what you were going through!”

The alcohol in Kyle’s system buzzed in his head, loosening the filter on his words. Before he could stop himself, he shot back, his tone laced with venom. “Yeah? Well, maybe that’s because I didn’t need someone holding my hand every five seconds and begging me to tell them what to do.”.

You inhaled sharply, trying to keep your composure, but your voice trembled as you spoke. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t asking you to hold my hand, Kyle,” you choked out, wiping at your eyes. “I just wanted advice. That’s it. I wanted my best friend to help me, the same way you helped me with… with…” Your voice cracked, and you covered your mouth with your hand for a moment, trying to steady yourself. “The same way you helped me when I asked for tips on kissing.”

Kyle froze, the sight of your tears was like a punch to the gut, but the alcohol clouded his better judgment, and he didn’t reach out to comfort you. Instead, he clenched his fists, his own emotions bubbling too close to the surface.

You sniffled, wiping at your face again, though the tears kept coming. “It’s not fair,” you said, your voice breaking as you looked at him with glassy, red-rimmed eyes. “It’s not fair that all four of you—Stan, Kenny, Cartman, and you—you’ve all had sex, and I haven’t. You’ve all done it, and I’m the one who feels like… like I’m the weird one. Like I’m stuck behind everyone else.” You laughed bitterly, though the sound was shaky and laced with pain. “I just wanted to feel like I belonged for once. Like I wasn’t the last one left behind. And I thought… I thought Damien might actually like me enough to change that. But I guess you think I’m just stupid for even trying, huh?”

Kyle shook his head quickly, the guilt in his chest growing heavier with every tear that rolled down your face. “That’s not—” he started, but you cut him off again.

“No, Kyle, it is!” you said, your voice rising as the emotions poured out of you. “You’re not even trying to understand! All you’re doing is making me feel like I’m pathetic for wanting someone to like me back. Do you even realize how lonely it feels to be the only one who hasn’t—who hasn’t…” You trailed off, your voice breaking again as a fresh wave of tears spilled down your cheeks.

Kyle swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he watched you crumble in front of him. He wanted to reach out, to apologize, to fix this, but the words felt trapped in his throat, tangled up in his own mess of emotions.

“I don’t get it,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible over the pounding of Kyle’s heart in his ears. “Why can’t you just be happy for me? Why does it feel like you’re trying to tear me down every time I talk about Damien?”

Kyle’s fists tightened at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as his frustration finally boiled over. “You’re so goddamn oblivious!” he snapped, his voice cracked slightly, but he didn’t care. He tilted his head at you, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your stomach churn. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

You flinched at the venom in his tone, but you held your ground. “Get what, Kyle? That you’ve been treating me like shit for weeks and now you’re trying to act like you’re the victim? Enlighten me!”

Kyle let out a bitter laugh, the sound laced with mockery as he leaned forward, his gaze locking onto yours. “You want me to spell it out for you? Fine. You sit here, all teary-eyed, whining about how unfair it is that you haven’t had sex yet—like it’s some fucking milestone you need to check off—and then you come to me for advice like I’m your personal guide to navigating Damien’s bullshit!”

Your breath hitched, his words hitting you like a slap to the face. “I—that’s not what this is about! I just wanted—”

“What, more tips?” Kyle interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He leaned back against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest as he glared at you. “You want me to give you a step-by-step guide, is that it? Hell, maybe I should just show you, huh? Is that what you want?

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of his words hanging between you like a storm cloud. Your eyes widened, a mix of shock and hurt flashing across your face as you stared at him, your chest tightening.

“Wow,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You really are an asshole.”

Kyle’s smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a defensive scowl. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m tired of pretending everything’s fine when it’s not,” he shot back, his voice quieter now but no less biting.

You frowned, his words digging under your skin like splinters, too deep to ignore. Your hands curled into fists at your sides, your nails biting into your palms as you bit back the lump forming in your throat. “Maybe you should,�� you said.

His brow furrowed, and for once, he looked caught off guard. “What?” he asked, his voice softer, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right.

“Maybe you should show me,” you snapped, taking a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “At least then you wouldn’t be able to ignore me afterwards, right? Isn’t that what you want—to stop pretending?”

Kyle froze, his eyes wide and unblinking as he stared at you like you’d just dropped a grenade between the two of you. His mouth opened, but no words came out, his jaw working silently as if he was trying to piece together something coherent to say.

You laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and humorless as you crossed your arms over your chest. “What’s the problem? You were so eager to offer, weren’t you? You can guide me through it—give me tips, just like we did with the kissing practice. Isn’t that what you want?”

His face flushed, the tips of his ears burning red as he averted his gaze, his hands flexing at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. “That’s not—” he started, but his voice caught, and he let out a frustrated breath instead.

“That’s not what?” you pressed, stepping closer still, your voice shaking with anger. “Not what you meant? Not something you actually want to deal with? God, you’re such a fucking coward.”

His head snapped up at that. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said sharply, his voice taut as he glared at you. “You don’t get it.”

“Then help me get it!” you shouted, your frustration spilling over. “Because all I see is you treating me like shit! You push me away, you won’t talk to me, and now—now you’re acting like I’m the one who’s out of line for trying to fix this!”

Kyle flinched at your words, his shoulders stiff as he dragged a hand through his hair. “You don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice quieter now but no less tense.

“Then make me understand!” you demanded, your voice breaking as tears pricked at your eyes. “Because I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep chasing after you when all you do is make me feel like I don’t matter to you at all.”

“You do matter!” he shouted, his voice cracking as his fists clenched at his sides. He looked away, his breathing uneven, as if he was struggling to keep himself together. “You matter more than—” He stopped himself, biting down hard on the words.

“More than what?” you asked, your voice trembling. “If you won’t say it, then show me. Because I don’t know what else to do.”

Kyle frowned, his eyes narrowing as he stared at you. Your words echoed in his mind, loud and relentless, daring him to cross a line he’d spent weeks trying to avoid. He didn’t want to be here—not like this. He didn’t want to hurt you, didn’t want to lash out and say something he couldn’t take back.

But the frustration, the jealousy, the suffocating weight of everything unsaid—it was too much. It burned in his chest, tightened his throat, and made him want to rip out his own hair. Part of him wanted to tell you the truth, to finally explain why he’d been so distant, why the sight of you with Damien made him feel like the ground was crumbling beneath his feet. But the other part, the louder part, told him it was a bad idea. You wouldn’t understand. You’d look at him differently, maybe even hate him. And that thought—that fear—was worse than anything else.

He clenched his jaw, forcing the words down before they could escape. If you wanted him to show you so badly, fine. He’d show you. Maybe then you’d finally realize what you were doing to him, how impossible you’d made it to keep pretending.

His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. You gasped softly, your eyes widening as he tugged you toward the bed. The surprise left you off-balance, and you stumbled slightly as he guided you backward. His grip wasn’t harsh, but it was firm enough that you couldn’t pull away.

The edge of the mattress hit the backs of your knees, and you sank down onto it without a word. The quiet creak of the springs filled the room as you looked up at him, your lips parted in shock.

Kyle moved without hesitation, sinking to his knees in front of you, his heart was pounding so loudly he could barely hear himself think. His hands found your knees, the warmth of your skin beneath the hem of your skirt grounding him and rattling him all at once.

His lips twisted into a bitter smirk as he looked up at you, his eyes dark with frustration and something bitter. “I’ll show you. I’ll give you tips, advice, whatever the hell you need—for Damien, of course.”

A mixture of anger and a sharp pang of longing twisted in your gut. The intensity in his eyes—focused, almost searching—held you captive, leaving you breathless. The weight of his hands on your knees felt grounding, but the heat of his gaze burned into yours, making it impossible to look away.

“Kyle…” you started, but your voice faltered, your words dying in your throat as his smirk widened.

“Go on,” he said, his voice soft but sharp, his fingers tightening slightly against your skin. “You’ve got questions, right? About what he’ll want, what you’re supposed to do. I’m here to help. Just like you wanted.”

Your hands rose instinctively, pressing against your cheeks as if the pressure could ground you, could slow the racing of your heart. Your palms met the streaked remains of your makeup—smudged eyeliner, sticky mascara—and you could feel the remnants of your tears clinging to your skin. The sweater you wore suddenly felt suffocating, clinging to your body like it weighed a thousand pounds, and your throat tightened as a fresh wave of emotion threatened to overtake you.

You wouldn’t cry. Not again.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, forcing down the tears. When you opened them, Kyle’s gaze was still locked on you, his expression intense. The weight of his hands on your knees, warm and steady, felt like a tether keeping you in place even as everything else spun out of control.

Taking a deep breath, you forced your voice to steady, though the words trembled slightly as they left your lips. “Yeah,” you said quietly, the word almost catching in your throat. You swallowed hard, your voice firming as you met his gaze. “Yeah, this is what I want.”

His reaction was immediate. His smirk disappeared, his lips parting slightly as his hands froze against your knees. He stared at you, his eyes wide with something between shock, guilt, and confusion. The mocking edge he’d wielded so sharply just seconds ago seemed to falter, crumbling under the weight of your words. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move, his breathing shallow as he looked at you like he couldn’t figure out if you were serious or just trying to call his bluff.

The silence stretched, until you broke it with a quiet voice that carried a sharp edge of defiance. “Don’t people usually… kiss … like before they do stuff?”

Kyle flinched, the question cutting through the tension like a blade. His jaw tightened, and his fingers flexed against your knees before pulling back slightly, hovering like he wasn’t sure if he should stay or retreat.

“[Y/N]…” he started, his voice hoarse, almost uncertain.

But you didn’t let him finish. You leaned forward, your eyes searching his face as your voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Or were you just going to skip all that and get straight to the lesson?”

His breath caught in his throat, his shoulders stiffening as his hands fell to his sides. He couldn’t look at you, his gaze darting away, but the tension in his body told you he’d heard every word loud and clear. “You wanted me to show you,” he said finally, his voice low, like he was trying to convince himself more than you. “You said—”

“I know what I said,” you cut him off, your voice sharper now. “And I’m still waiting. Are you going to follow through, or are you going to keep pretending?”

For a moment, it looked like Kyle was going to apologize. His lips parted, and you could almost see the words forming in his head, the tension in his shoulders easing as if he’d decided to back down. But then his eyes flicked to your face—the frown you were wearing, the way your lips were set tight with frustration—and something in him twisted. The guilt, the jealousy, the anger—it all came rushing back, crashing over him like a wave. You were too close, too vulnerable, and the way your expression cut through him like a blade only made it worse.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost detached, like he was stating a fact instead of responding to the charged moment between you. “Yeah. People usually kiss beforehand.”

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the hemline of your skirt. The fabric bunched between your fingertips, the nervous motion grounding you as you tried to find your voice. “So…” you started, your tone softer now but no less steady. “We should kiss, right?”

Kyle let out a sharp breath, dragging his hand over his jaw in frustration. His fingers brushed against the rough stubble along his chin, the motion almost aggressive, as though he could scrub away the tension building in his chest. He looked at the wall for a moment, as if it held an answer he couldn’t find in you, then sharply turned back.

His hands returned to your knees, warmer and heavier than before, and he leaned in until your faces were level.  “Yeah,” he said, his voice low and edged with mockery. “We can.”

One of his hands slid up from your knee, his fingers trailing over the curve of your thigh before settling against your cheek. His palm was warm, his grip firm but not harsh as he tilted your chin up. The motion was precise, calculated, like he was laying claim to this moment—not to you, but to the control he needed to feel.

Kyle leaned in slowly, his thumb brushing against your cheek as his smirk widened. “You want tips, right?” he murmured, his voice soft and mocking, the words settling heavily in the space between you. “You want to know how it’s done?”

Then he kissed you.

The moment his lips met yours, everything else fell away. The kiss wasn’t gentle, wasn’t tentative or shy—it was confident, almost overwhelming in its intensity. His lips moved against yours with a practiced ease that left you scrambling to keep up, the heat of his touch and the weight of his presence drowning out every coherent thought in your head.

Your hands twitched at your sides, unsure of where to go, what to do. You wanted to reach out, to steady yourself against the torrent of sensations crashing over you, but your limbs felt frozen, your inexperience glaring like a neon sign in the darkness.

Kyle tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss. His other hand remained on your knee, his grip tightening just enough to anchor you, to keep you from pulling away—not that you could have, even if you wanted to. The kiss was messy, and you could feel your lips trembling against his, your movements hesitant and uncoordinated. He noticed immediately, and his smirk returned, barely breaking the kiss as he slowed his movements, guiding you without saying a word. His lips parted, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made your stomach flip, and you couldn’t stop the small, startled sound that escaped you.

Kyle pulled back just enough to hover close, his breath warm against your lips as he smirked again. “Relax,” he said softly, the word dripping with amusement.

You nodded slightly, swallowing hard as you tried to follow his lead. When he kissed you again, his lips softer this time but no less insistent, you let yourself lean into the moment. Your hands finally found their way to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his hoodie as you tried to steady yourself.

The kiss stretched on, your body growing warmer with each passing second. Kyle’s hand slipped from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers threading lightly through your hair as he shifted closer. The movement pressed him further into your space, and the overwhelming intimacy of it all made your heart race.

When he finally pulled away, your lips felt swollen, your breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts. Kyle stayed close, his forehead almost brushing yours as his thumb traced slow circles against the back of your neck. His eyes locked onto yours, as his lips quirked into a small, knowing smirk.

“That’s how it starts,” he said, his voice low and rough, his words heavy in the quiet room. “Did you get all that, or do you need me to show you again?”

The weight of his words settled over you, pressing against your chest like a stone. The warmth of his hand on the back of your neck, the lingering heat of his lips on yours—it all felt too much and not enough at the same time. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, a mix of frustration, embarrassment, and shame. 

You swallowed hard, willing the sting back, and fixed him with a frown. Your voice was quiet but firm when you spoke, every syllable trembling with the emotions bubbling dangerously close to the surface. “I know how to fucking kiss people,” you snapped back. “Damien likes it when I kiss him.”

The words hit like a slap, the sharp edge of your voice cutting through the tension in the room. Kyle froze, his smirk faltering as his eyes narrowed. His hand dropped from the back of your neck as though it had been burned, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his jaw tightening.

“Yeah?” he said finally, his voice laced with mockery, though there was something else beneath it—something raw, almost vulnerable. “Well, maybe Damien has low standards.”

Your heart lurched, the insult landing harder than you wanted to admit. “What the hell, Kyle?” you fumed, your hands tightening on the fabric of your skirt.

He let out a bitter laugh, dragging a hand through his hair as he leaned back slightly, putting distance between you. “What? I’m just being honest,” he said, his tone biting but uneven, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep going. “You’ve already got Damien to boost your ego.”

You flinched at his words, the ache in your chest blooming into something sharper, angrier. “Why are you being like this?” you asked, your voice breaking slightly as the frustration boiled over. “You don’t get to act like you’re better than him just because—”

“Because what?” Kyle cut you off, his eyes blazing as he leaned forward again, his hands gripping his knees tightly. “Because I don’t spend all my time feeding you bullshit lines and telling you exactly what you want to hear?”

Your mouth fell open, the shock coursing through you like a jolt of electricity. The room was silent save for the faint thump of music and chatter from downstairs, but inside your head, it felt deafening. You stared at him, your chest tight, the words caught in your throat as you tried to process what he’d just said. Finally, your voice came, low and trembling, like you were balancing on the edge of a cliff. “You’re such an asshole.”

He flinched slightly, the harshness of your tone cutting through his anger. His shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t look up, his gaze still fixed on the floor.

“You’re all assholes,” you continued, the words spilling out now like water breaking through a dam. “You, Kenny, Cartman, Stan—all of you. Do you have any idea what it’s like to sit there and watch you guys get into relationships? To see you all with girlfriends, hookups, whatever, while I’m just… nothing?”

Kyle’s gaze softened slightly, his fists loosening as your voice cracked. He looked like he might say something, might reach out, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“You didn’t even talk to me about it!” you said, your voice rising. “None of you ever said anything. You just acted like I didn’t exist in that department. Like I wasn’t even worth considering.”

The tears you’d been holding back threatened to spill again, and you blinked hard, willing them away. Your fists clenched in your lap, your nails biting into your palms as you fought to steady your breathing.

Kyle looked up at you then, his eyes softer than before, like he was trying to figure out how to respond without making things worse. But your anger was still boiling, and the words kept coming.

“And you—you’re the worst,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “You shut me out for weeks. You treat me like I don’t matter, and then you have the nerve to say shit like that? Do you even hear yourself?”

He didn’t respond, but his expression shifted, his gaze flickered with something dark. Before you could say anything else, he leaned forward, his movements deliberate but sudden enough to make your heart skip a beat. For a split second, you thought he was going to kiss you again, his face so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath. But instead, his head tilted slightly, and his lips brushed against your neck.

Your breath hitched, your body stiffening as his mouth moved against your skin, soft but insistent. His hands slid back to your knees, steadying himself as he kissed the curve of your neck.

“Kyle, what—” you started, but your words were cut off by a sharp gasp as his teeth grazed your skin, followed by the heat of his tongue.

You tried to keep going, your voice faltering as you spoke through the growing haze of confusion. “I’m… I’m not done—ah—yelling at you,” you said, your words breaking as his lips pressed against a sensitive spot near your collarbone.

He didn’t respond, his mouth trailing slow, deliberate kisses along your neck. The suction of his lips sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t stop the small, involuntary sounds escaping you.

“D-don’t think this means—ngh—I’m forgiving you,” you stammered, your hands gripping the edge of the bed as his mouth lingered just below your jawline, the sensation making your knees weak.

Kyle hummed softly against your skin, the low sound vibrating through you in a way that made your heart jump into your throat. “Keep talking,” he murmured, his voice muffled but teasing as he pressed another kiss just below your ear. “You’re making it interesting.”

You wanted to snap at him, to push him away and continue your rant, but every time you tried to form a coherent sentence, his lips found another sensitive spot, leaving you gasping and clinging to the mattress for support.

Swallowing down another gasp, you forced your hands to let go of the bed and instead gripped Kyle’s shoulders, your fingers digging into the soft fabric of his hoodie. His lips moved lower, brushing against the delicate skin of your throat, and the warmth of his breath sent shivers racing down your spine.

“Y-you think this is—” you started, but your voice broke as he sucked lightly at a spot just below your jaw. You bit your lip hard, trying to steady yourself as your mind fought to regain control.

Kyle didn’t let up, his lips trailing kisses down the curve of your neck, his hands gripping slightly on your knees to hold you steady. Your breath hitched, but the frustration burning in your chest wouldn’t let you stay quiet.

“You’re—you’re such a goddamn idiot,” you said, your voice trembling as you dug your nails into his shoulders. “You think this makes you better than me? That it makes you some kind of—ah—expert?”

He hummed against your neck, his tongue brushing over your skin in a way that made your legs tense. “Go on,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

“You’re not—you’re not even good at this,” you spat, though the way your voice wavered betrayed the lie. “Your exes probably faked every second of it. All of them. Every. Single. One.”

That made him pause, his lips freezing against your neck for a moment before he pulled back just enough to look at you. His gaze bore into you, like he was both annoyed and amused by what you just said.

“Is that so?” he asked, his voice laced with mockery and amusement.

“Yeah,” you shot back, even as your cheeks flushed from the intensity of his gaze. “I bet they faked it because they couldn’t stand you. I mean, look at you, Kyle. Overthinking, over-analyzing—you probably spent more time lecturing them than actually doing anything.”

Kyle’s smirk widened, his hands sliding slightly up your thighs as he leaned back in. His breath brushed against your ear as he spoke, his voice low and taunting. “You’re awfully bold for someone who can’t even sit still when I touch you,” he said, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

You opened your mouth to fire back another insult, but it dissolved into a sharp gasp as he bit lightly at the sensitive skin just below your ear.  “I can sit still,” you snapped breathlessly, though the words lacked conviction as your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch despite yourself. “You’re just—you’re just—”

“Just what?” Kyle asked, his tone dripping with mockery as he pressed another kiss to your neck, his lips lingering this time, soft but mean.

Your body betrayed you, leaning into the heat of him as the sensations overwhelmed you. Unable to meet his gaze, you buried your face in his shoulder, the fabric of his hoodie soft against your cheek. His lips moved with calculated precision, each kiss lingering longer, the occasional flick of his tongue sending jolts of electricity down your spine.

You could feel it now—an undeniable warmth pooling between your thighs, the wetness a stark reminder of just how much your body wasn’t listening to your mind. Your cheeks flushed, humiliation creeping in alongside the heat, and it only made everything worse.

“I hate you,” you muttered, your voice muffled against his shoulder, though the words lacked any real conviction.

Kyle hummed against your neck, his lips curling into a smirk as he latched onto the sensitive skin just above your collarbone. His mouth moved with purpose, the slight sting sending a sharp jolt through you as it became clear he was leaving a mark. You lifted your head from Kyle’s shoulder, the sudden realization striking you: when you went back downstairs, everyone would see it. Your chest tightened at that, panic mingling with the lingering frustration and heat. Sliding your hand up to his cheek, you pressed your palm against his jaw, trying to push him away, your voice breaking as you gasped for breath.

“Kyle,” you said, your voice trembling, “stop—ah—everyone will… they’ll see—”

His lips didn’t pause, his mouth trailing lower toward your collarbone, the sensation pulling another sharp intake of air from you. You pressed harder against his cheek, your fingers brushing the soft stubble on his jaw as you tried again.

“I mean it—nngh—Kyle, we have to—oh my god, just… stop!” you gasped, your words cutting short as his teeth grazed the edge of your collarbone.

Kyle pulled back slightly, his lips hovering just above your skin as his hands tightened on your thighs, keeping you in place. “You’re the one who wanted this,” he said, his voice low and rough, the smirk on his lips sending a shiver down your spine.

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean like this,” you stammered, your voice shaky as you tried to steady your breathing. “Come on. Everyone’s going to see it, and—”

“And what?” he interrupted, his tone sharper now as he raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think Damien would like it? You don’t think he’d want to see proof that you’ve been practicing?”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, your cheeks flushing hot as you tried to push him away again. He had no right to bring up Damien, so you changed the subject. “What do you think Kenny or Cartman would say if they walked in right now, huh? Or Stan? What would they think about you doing this?” You hissed out.

His jaw flexed, the tension so visible it was as if he was biting back a retort. But his eyes didn’t waver from yours, waiting for you to finish.

“About you being such a—” You hesitated, your breath catching as you debated whether to say it, but the heat of his hands on your thighs, the sting of his earlier words—they all pushed you past the breaking point.

“—such a pathetic, jealous asshole.”

Kyle’s eyes darkened, his lips parting as though he was about to say something, but instead, he pressed them together into a thin, tense line. His hands stopped their subtle movements, his fingers stilling against your legs. His expression shifted, the simmering frustration now flaring into something harder, sharper.

But he didn’t speak.

Instead, his hands moved again, this time sliding to the hem of your skirt. His fingers brushed the fabric, his touch firm and deliberate as if testing the waters. The subtle press of his fingertips against your bare skin sent a shiver up your spine.

“What would they say?” Kyle said finally, his voice low and steady, though it carried an edge that made your breath hitch. “Probably the same thing Damien would if he knew about this.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as his breath fanned against your skin. “Or maybe they wouldn’t say anything at all,” he murmured, his tone cutting through the charged silence like a blade. “Because they don’t see you like this.”

“Kyle,” you managed, his hands pressing a little higher, the heat of his palms searing against your skin. “You don’t know what you’re—”

Kyle interrupted you, his tone harsh. “Are we doing this, or not? Because if you’re just gonna sit there running your mouth, maybe I should remind you what you asked for in the first place.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a physical thing. Your eyes darted toward his face and then away just as quickly. Finally, you mumbled, “Yeah.”

You gripped the hem of your skirt, the fabric cool under your fingertips as you pushed it down over your hips. The smooth material slid along your legs, pooling at your ankles in a crumpled heap. The cool air against your skin was a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from your face, your cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and something you refused to name.

You didn’t look at him at first, your gaze fixed on the floor. But you could feel his eyes on you, heavy and unrelenting, and it only made the heat in your chest spread like wildfire.

“Happy now?” you muttered, your voice unsteady as you glanced up at him, the frustration creeping back into your tone.

Kyle didn’t respond immediately. Your eyes traced over his face, catching on the freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks like constellations against pale skin. His nose, slightly crooked from that time he broke it in middle school, gave his face a stubborn kind of charm. And his hair—messy, bright red curls that always looked like they were on the verge of rebellion—framed his expression in a way that softened his sharp features, even now.

For a moment, your face softened too, and the ache in your chest bloomed into something heavier. You missed him—really missed him. The Kyle who didn’t snap at you, didn’t shut you out, didn’t make everything feel so impossibly complicated.

The thought was too much, and you darted your eyes away, breaking the connection. You squeezed your thighs together, the movement grounding you in the present as you felt the faint, rhythmic pulse of the bass from the party vibrating through the walls. It was a distant reminder of where you were, of the world beyond whatever this was.

You took a shaky breath, your voice barely audible as you mumbled, “Let’s just do this… so we can get it over with.”

The words hung in the air, and you felt the weight of Kyle’s gaze on you even as you refused to meet his eyes. There was a beat of silence, thick and uncomfortable, before his hands shifted on your thighs, his grip steady but not as tight as before.

“Get it over with?” he repeated, his voice quieter now but tinged with something you couldn’t quite place—anger? Hurt? His head tilted slightly, and you could feel him studying you, his expression shifting as if he was trying to piece together what you meant.

When you didn’t respond, he exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers curling slightly against your skin. “Fine,” he said, his tone clipped, though there was a faint waver to it, like he wasn’t as sure of himself as he wanted to be.

His hands slid higher, his touch slower, as if testing your resolve. His gaze lingered on your face for a moment longer, searching for something he didn’t seem to find, before he finally dipped his head toward you again.

Kyle kissed you, and the world seemed to tilt. His lips were firm and confident, moving against yours with a practiced rhythm that made your head spin. You tried your best to keep up, but Kyle didn’t waver, his lips guiding yours in a way that made your breath hitch.

When his tongue slipped past your lips, brushing against yours, a soft, startled whimper escaped you. Kyle responded instantly, his grip on your thighs tightening as his fingers pressed into your skin. The pressure sent a shockwave through you, your body reacting before your mind could catch up.

You moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled but unmistakable, and it was enough to break through the haze of heat clouding your mind. Embarrassment crashed over you like a wave, and you pulled back abruptly, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

Your chest heaved as you buried your face in your hands, the warmth of your palms doing little to hide the warmth spreading across your cheeks. “God,” you muttered, your voice muffled and trembling. “I can’t—Kyle, I can’t—”

Your words stumbled over each other, your body trembling as the weight of the moment pressed down on you. Kyle didn’t say anything right away, his breathing heavy as he stared at you, his hands still resting on your thighs but no longer squeezing.

“[Y/N],” he said softly, his voice rough around the edges. It wasn’t mocking or teasing this time—just your name, quiet and uncertain, as though he wasn’t sure what to say next.

You squirmed where you sat, the tension in your body making it impossible to stay still. Your hands slid from your face, trembling as you stared at your lap, avoiding his gaze. “Just… continue,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

Kyle’s hands flexed slightly against your thighs, and you could feel his hesitation like a tangible weight in the air.

His eyes searched your face, his lips parting as if to respond, but instead, he exhaled softly, his breath warm against your skin. Slowly, his hands moved, sliding down to hook under the hemline of your panties, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin in a way that sent a shiver up your spine.

Kyle paused, his hands stilling as he spoke, his voice low but steady. “Are you really sure about this?”

You nodded, your eyes fixed firmly on the floor, unable to meet his gaze. Your heart pounded in your chest, your breathing uneven as you mumbled, “Yeah… I’m sure.”

He didn’t move right away, his fingers curling slightly around the fabric as he waited, giving you one last chance to pull back. When you didn’t, he shifted closer, his hands steady as he began to ease the material down, his voice breaking the tense silence.

“Alright,” he murmured, his tone softer now, laced with something careful, almost protective. “Just… tell me if it’s too much, okay? I need you to say something if you want me to stop.”

You nodded faintly, still refusing to meet his eyes. Your chest felt tight, your heart racing as his hands moved again.

Kyle’s lips pressed against the soft skin of your thigh, his touch featherlight. The sensation sent a jolt through you, making you shiver as his kisses trailed lower, following the path of his hands as he slid your panties down your legs.

The cool air hit you, a sharp contrast to the heat pooling low in your stomach, and you couldn’t stop the tiny curse that slipped past your lips. “Fuck,” you mumbled, the word faint as you clenched your thighs together instinctively.

Kyle stilled for a moment, his hands hovering near your knees as his lips lingered against your skin. “Relax,” he said softly, his voice steady but low. “It’s just me, okay?”

His words only made it worse, the reality of the situation crashing over you like a wave. It’s just him. Kyle, your childhood best friend. Kyle, the boy who used to tug on your hair and steal your snacks. Kyle, who was now kneeling between your legs, his lips brushing against your thighs as though this was something he’d done a thousand times before.

“This is insane,” you muttered into the sleeves, your voice muffled but audible. “I can’t believe… God, Kyle, I can’t believe this is happening.”

Kyle paused, his hands resting lightly on your legs as he looked up at you. His expression softened slightly, the sharp edges of his frustration giving way to something more uncertain. “If you want to stop—”

“No,” you cut him off quickly, your voice firm despite the trembling in your body. You lowered your hands just enough to peek at him, your gaze meeting his for the briefest moment before you darted your eyes away again. “Just… don’t stop. I need this. Just keep going.”

Kyle exhaled softly, his hands moving again, his touch grounding as he leaned back in. His lips found your thigh once more, warmer now against your bare skin. Your panties slid further down, the fabric pooling at your ankles as you shifted uncomfortably. The faint sound of them hitting the floor made your stomach twist.

Kyle was deadly quiet, his hands still resting on your thighs. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, the tension between you palpable as the cool air of the room seemed to wrap around you.

A soft whine escaped your lips, your face burning as you whispered, “Don’t make fun of me, okay?”

Kyle’s head lifted slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, his usual sharpness was nowhere to be found. He nodded weakly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “I won’t,” he murmured, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it.

Without saying anything else, his hands slid lower, gripping your ankles. He gave them a small tug, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. Your heart pounded wildly as you felt his stare. It was impossible to ignore, the way his eyes lingered, the heat of them settling on the most intimate part of you. 

Kyle shifted slightly, his hands still steady on your thighs. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice hesitant but firmer than before. “I’m going to touch you now, okay?”

You nodded weakly. Slowly, you slid your hands from his shoulders, your fingers trembling as you brought them up to your face. Burying your face in your hands, you mumbled something inaudible, too quiet even for yourself to hear.

Kyle’s fingers moved, inching closer to your heat with a slowness that made your stomach twist in anticipation. You felt the faint brush of his knuckles against your inner thigh, the sensation so light it sent a shiver racing up your spine. The closeness was too much, and you squirmed instinctively, your thighs tensing under his touch. The motion was unintentional, but it only seemed to spur him on, his fingers adjusting as he drew nearer.

“You’re okay,” Kyle said softly, his tone steady, though there was a faint tremor beneath his words. His hands were warm, his touch grounding despite the tension coiling in your chest. “Just… let me know if you need me to stop.”

Kyle’s words hung in the air, a quiet reassurance that did little to steady your racing heart. You felt the warmth of his fingers inch closer. Then, finally, his fingers brushed against your slit. The touch was so light at first, almost tentative, but it was enough to make your breath hitch audibly. You felt Kyle pause, his fingers lingering as though testing the waters, before you heard him murmur under his breath, “Holy shit.”

Your face burned even hotter, the embarrassment and arousal mixing into a heady rush that made your skin prickle. You knew what he’d noticed—you were dripping, and the realization made your thighs clench. But the motion only made things worse, pressing you more firmly against his fingers, and you squirmed in response.

Kyle’s hand shifted slightly, his touch growing more insistent. His fingertip slid upward, tracing a slow, teasing line until it found your clit.

“You’re so—” Kyle started to say, but he cut himself off, exhaling sharply instead. His thumb brushed against the sensitive bundle of nerves. His  fingers continued their slow exploration. Each touch was electric, sending waves of heat coursing through you as he traced over your clit again. It was too much to hide from, too overwhelming to keep your face buried away. Hesitantly, you pulled your hands from your face, lowering them to your lap as your chest rose and fell with each shaky breath.

When you finally looked at Kyle, his focus was entirely on you, his eyes half-lidded and intent as his fingers continued prodding you. The moment he noticed you weren’t hiding anymore, his gaze flicked up to meet yours. His lips parted slightly, as though he might say something, but instead, he leaned forward. His warm breath ghosted over your skin before his lips pressed against the soft curve of your inner thigh.

Your mind raced, flashing back to just minutes ago, when the air between you had been thick with anger and sharp words. You could still hear them, echoing in the back of your mind—the insults, the taunts, the bitterness that had burned so fiercely.

Now, the heat was different, just as overwhelming but softer, quieter. You stared down at Kyle, his lips brushed another kiss along your thigh, his hands steady on you as though he’d forgotten every cruel thing either of you had said.

His fingers didn’t stop their slow movements, brushing over your clit with a maddening precision that left you trembling. Your hands gripped the hem of your sweater as you frowned, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “You’re supposed to be teaching me,” you muttered, the words shaky and uneven as you avoided his gaze.

Kyle’s lips twitched—not quite a smirk, but a ghost of one, softer and tinged with amusement. “I am,” he said calmly, his voice steady but with a faint teasing lilt that made your stomach twist. He shifted his hand, his fingers pressing just a little more firmly against you, and the jolt of pleasure made a sharp gasp escape your lips before you could stop it.

“Then… stop messing around,” you said quickly, your face burning with embarrassment as you tried to push past the sound you’d just made.

Kyle tilted his head slightly, his expression shifting. His brows furrowed just enough to show concentration, his lips parting as though he were about to speak, but instead, his gaze softened. It wasn’t condescending or smug; it was intent, his focus entirely on you as though he was trying to read your every reaction.

“I’m not messing around,” he murmured, his voice quieter now.“I just need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

You swallowed hard, his words settling over you like a challenge and an assurance all at once. His eyes stayed locked on yours, unwavering, and for a moment, the intensity of it all made it hard to breathe.

“Yeah… okay,” you whispered finally, your voice trembling as you nodded faintly, your chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths.

Kyle’s lips twitched into a small, tentative smile, a flicker of something softer breaking through the tension in his expression. His hands remained steady on your thighs as he shifted closer, his face moving toward your bare heat with an intent focus that made your pulse thunder in your ears.

He paused for a moment, his breath warm against you, before leaning in and giving you a tentative lick. The sensation was electric, making your entire body jolt. You quickly brought a hand to your mouth, covering it as a muffled moan escaped despite your best efforts.

Kyle didn’t stop. He licked again, the motion slower this time, as if testing your response. His thumb returned to your clit, moving in slow circles that perfectly complemented the flick of his tongue. The combination was overwhelming, pleasure surging through you in waves that left you trembling.

Your free hand clutched the sheets at your side, your knuckles white as you gripped them tightly. Your chest rose and fell in erratic rhythms, your breaths coming in gasps as you tried desperately to contain the sounds threatening to spill from your lips.

Kyle’s movements grew more confident with each pass, his tongue exploring you with a mix of precision and curiosity that made your legs tense. His thumb pressed just slightly harder against your clit, his touch steady as his mouth worked in tandem, and the sensations had your mind reeling. The tension coiling in your stomach was unbearable, the heat pooling low in your body making it harder and harder to hold yourself together.

Kyle glanced up briefly, his eyes flicking to your face as though to gauge your reaction. The sight of him there, his mouth on you, his expression focused and intent—a fresh wave of heat rushing through you that left you clinging to the sheets even tighter..

Then you felt it—his index finger, pressing gently at your entrance.

The sudden shift made your body tense, your thighs clamping instinctively as a sharp intake of breath escaped your lips. Kyle paused, his finger still hovering, as his eyes snapped back up to meet yours.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice a little rough, though there was an undeniable gentleness to his tone. He didn’t move, his hand steady, waiting for your response.

You swallowed hard, nodding faintly as you tried to will your body to relax. “Y-yeah,” you whispered, though your voice wavered.

Kyle hesitated for a moment longer, his gaze holding yours as if searching for any sign of doubt. Carefully, he began to press his finger forward. The sensation was strange, unfamiliar, and you couldn’t stop the way your hands tightened against the sheets, your breaths shallow and quick.

“You’re doing good,” he murmured, his voice steady and reassuring as his finger slid in further. “Just breathe, okay? It’s supposed to feel a little different at first.”

You nodded again, your chest rising and falling as you tried to match his calmness. The tension in your body slowly began to ease as you adjusted to the intrusion, the warmth of his hand against your thigh grounding you.

Kyle leaned forward again, his mouth returning to you as his finger began to move. The combination of sensations left you trembling, your grip on the sheets tightening as soft. Then his finger curled.

The motion sent a spark through you, and your back arched slightly off the bed. The tension coiled in your stomach intensified, a tight knot of heat that had you gasping. You tried to speak, to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t form. The only sounds that came out were high, whiny moans that made your face burn with embarrassment. Your lips trembled as you managed to stutter, “K-Kyle, I—” but the rest of the sentence dissolved into a sharp cry as his finger curled again, hitting just the right spot.

Kyle’s lips twitched into a small, almost triumphant smirk against you, but he didn’t stop. Instead, he pressed forward, slipping another finger inside you. The stretch was noticeable but not uncomfortable, and the added pressure only heightened the intensity coursing through your body. His mouth worked in tandem, his tongue flicking over your clit before he latched onto it fully. The sound of him was obscene, the faint, wet noise of his lips and tongue practically slurping on you making your face flush even hotter.

Your legs quivered, your thighs tensing around his head as you tried to keep some semblance of control, but it was useless. Every movement of his fingers, every press of his tongue, sent you spiraling further, your voice breaking into breathy whimpers and desperate moans.

“Kyle, oh my God,” you gasped, your hands flying to grip his hair instinctively, your fingers tangling in his messy curls as your body betrayed your embarrassment and gave in to the overwhelming pleasure.

The sensations were too much, too intense. Heat pulsed through you in waves, each movement of his fingers and flick of his tongue unraveling you further. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, the pleasure bordering on unbearable, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him. You felt like crying, the overwhelming mix of embarrassment and pleasure making your throat tighten and your eyes sting. You tried to speak again, to say something coherent, but every attempt was interrupted by your own high, desperate moans. A tear slipped down your cheek, followed by another, the sensation so overwhelming it spilled out in every possible way. Your fingers tightening in his hair like it was the only thing grounding you.

Kyle didn’t stop. If he noticed your tears, he didn’t comment, his focus completely on you. His tongue circled your clit with maddening precision, and then you felt it—he added another finger.

Your grip on his hair tightened, your hands trembling as you tried to focus on the texture of his curls under your fingers. The way they felt, soft and slightly damp from the heat of the room, gave you something to anchor yourself to as your body quivered under his touch.

“Kyle,” you whimpered again, your voice breaking as your hips moved instinctively, pressing against his hand and mouth as though seeking even more. Then Kyle did something—his fingers curled deeper, hitting a spot inside you you didn’t even know existed. At the same time, his tongue pressed firmly against your clit.

A high-pitched, desperate whine tore from your lips, your moans louder and sharper than before as your thighs trembled around his head. Your grip in his hair tightened reflexively, your body betraying you completely as the sensation overwhelmed every thought, every hesitation.

Something shifted. A new sensation built low in your stomach, a pressure that was unfamiliar, intense, and slightly alarming. Panic flickered in your chest, and you stammered out, “I—I feel like I have to—ah—pee, Kyle.” Your hips squirmed against him, your body fighting the overwhelming sensation as you tried to pull away, but Kyle’s grip on your thighs tightened.

“You’re fine,” he murmured against you, his voice muffled but firm as his tongue flicked over your clit again. “Just let it happen. Don’t hold back.”

“I—ah—I can’t,” you gasped, but he didn’t stop, his fingers and tongue pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You shook your head desperately, your body squirming as the sensation built to an unbearable peak. “No, s-seriously, Kyle,” you whined, your voice high and panicked, trembling with the weight of what you were feeling. Your chest heaved, your hands tugging at his hair as you tried to process the unfamiliar pressure threatening to overwhelm you.

Kyle’s movements stilled for the briefest moment, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. His gaze was steady, softening slightly as he whispered, “You’re okay. Just trust me, baby. I’ve got you.”

The unexpected tenderness in his voice, the way he called you baby, hit you like a spark. Before you could react, he leaned back in, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony, his tongue pressing firmly against your clit while his fingers curled deep inside you, finding that spot again and again.

A choked cry escaped your lips as your body convulsed, and then you felt it—a hot, sudden release that you couldn’t stop. Warm liquid splashed from you, wetting your thighs, his hand, and even his face. The sensation was unlike anything you’d ever felt leaving you gasping and trembling as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through you.

“Oh my God,” you stammered, your voice breaking as you gripped the sheets tightly, your knuckles white. The sheer intensity of the moment left your mind blank, your body quivering as you tried to process what had just happened.

Kyle didn’t pull away, his fingers slowing but not stopping as he worked you through it, his lips brushing against your thigh as he murmured, “That’s it. Good girl. Just let it all out.”

You could feel the wetness spreading, pooling beneath you as your legs trembled, the slick sound of his movements only adding to the heat in your cheeks. When the waves finally subsided, your chest heaved with shallow breaths, your entire body buzzing as you tried to ground yourself. Kyle sat back slightly, his fingers slipping free as he looked up at you, his face glistening, a mix of satisfaction and something almost reverent in his expression. “See?” he said softly, his voice low and steady. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

Shaking your head, you squirmed back, trying to create some distance between you and Kyle. His touch, his words, the mess—was too much. Kyle seemed to notice immediately, pulling his fingers away as you shifted, his touch lingering for just a second longer than it should have before leaving you completely.

The absence was immediate, jarring. You felt impossibly empty, the ache lingering even as your body began to settle. Your wetness was everywhere: on your thighs, on the sheets beneath you, sticky and warm, a reminder of how far this had gone.

You couldn’t look at him. Your throat tightened as you tried to speak, the words forming somewhere in your chest but getting stuck before they could reach your lips.

“I…” you stuttered, your voice barely above a whisper, but the rest of the sentence crumbled under the weight of your emotions. You shook your head again, biting your lip as you tried to focus on anything but the way his words—good girl, baby—reverberated in your mind, making your cheeks burn even hotter.

He gave you hickeys.You squirted all over his face.What the fuckjust happened?

Kyle was still on the floor in front of you, kneeling between your legs at the edge of the bed. His eyes searched your face, his expression a mixture of concern and hesitation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his stare.

“[Y/N]?” he said softly, his voice low and cautious, as though afraid to push too hard.

Ignoring him, you shifted unsteadily, your body trembling as you pushed yourself upright. You needed to move, to find something—anything—to anchor yourself.

Kyle stayed where he was, his hands resting on his thighs, his posture tense as he watched you. “Are you okay?” he asked again, his voice breaking the silence, but you didn’t answer.

Your eyes darted around the room, landing on the crumpled fabric of your panties near the edge of the bed. Without looking at him, you leaned forward, grabbing them with shaking hands and quickly tugging them on.

“Hey,” Kyle tried again, his tone soft but tinged with something sharper. “Talk to me. Don’t just—”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off  as you reached for your skirt. It was bunched up on the floor near the nightstand, and you stumbled slightly as you grabbed it, your hands fumbling to pull it up over your hips. Your boots were next, shakingly lacing them up.

Kyle shifted on his knees, his hand lifting slightly as though he was about to reach for you, but he hesitated, his fingers curling back into his palm. “You don’t have to—”

“I said I’m fine,” you snapped, your tone harsher than you intended, though it did nothing to hide the tremor in your voice.

He stayed silent for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line as he dropped his hand back to his side. His shoulders sagged slightly, the tension in his body visible even from the corner of your eye.

Once your skirt was in place, you turned away from him, still refusing to meet his gaze. The tears that had blurred your vision earlier returned, threatening to spill as you made your way toward the door, your steps unsteady and your chest tight.

“[Y/N]…” Kyle said again, his voice quieter now, but you shook your head, cutting him off before he could say anything else.

“Just—don’t,” you muttered, your hand reaching for the doorknob. All you wanted was to get out, to put distance between yourself and the chaos that had just unfolded.

The floor creaked as Kyle got to his feet, his footsteps hesitant. You didn’t fully turn to look, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw him lift a hand to his face, wiping his jaw and cheeks where they still glistened with your wetness.

“[Y/N], wait,” he said softly, as he took a cautious step toward you.

You couldn’t stay. You couldn’t even face him. With a sharp tug, you yanked the door open. The sound of the party hit you immediately—a roaring blend of music, chatter, and laughter that felt jarring compared to the suffocating quiet of the room you were leaving behind.

“[Y/N]!” Kyle’s voice was louder this time, urgency lacing his tone as you stepped out into the hallway.

You didn’t stop. Your boots thudded against the floor as you rushed forward, your mind racing with fragments of thought, none of them coherent. Your lips felt raw from his kisses, your thighs sticky from what he’d done to you, and your face—your face was a mess.

You wiped at your face with your sweater sleeve as you reached the stairs, but it didn’t matter. No amount of rubbing would erase what had just happened or how you looked right now.

“Wait!” Kyle called again, his footsteps heavy behind you as he followed.

You practically stumbled down the stairs, gripping the railing to steady yourself. By the time you reached the bottom, the noise of the party seemed to dim, conversations faltering as people turned to watch.

You felt their stares like daggers.

Stan was the first you noticed, standing near the drinks table with a cup in hand. His face twisted into a mix of confusion and concern as his eyes darted from you to Kyle, who was right behind you. Kenny stood beside him, raising his eyebrows, his lips quirking into a faint, awkward smile as if unsure how to react.

Cartman lounged against the arm of the couch, his grin spreading wide the moment he saw you. He elbowed Stan, clearly thrilled by the scene unfolding in front of him. His eyes practically sparkled with delight, the gears turning in his head as he stored this moment away for future ridicule.

Damien stood near the corner, his dark eyes fixed on you with a sharp intensity. His brows drew together, and his jaw clenched, his grip tightening around the drink in his hand. You could see the flicker of emotions crossing his face—confusion, suspicion, irritation—before his expression settled into a tense neutrality, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Wendy and Bebe exchanged wide-eyed glances, their heads tilted toward each other as they whispered furiously, while Tolkien, Craig, Clyde, and Tweek all turned to look, their conversations coming to an abrupt halt.

You wiped at your face again, scrubbing harder this time, but the tears and smudges wouldn’t disappear. Kyle’s hand caught your arm gently, his grip firm but not forceful as he tried to stop you. “[Y/N], wait. Just… stop for a second!”

“Don’t touch me!” you snapped, your voice breaking as you jerked your arm free. The tears welled up again, spilling over despite your attempts to keep them at bay. “Just leave me alone!”

His face fell for a moment, the frustration in his expression softening to something else—something closer to guilt or regret. “I’m trying to talk to you!” he shouted, his tone harsher now as his own emotions bubbled over.

“I don’t want to talk to you!” you screamed back, your voice hoarse as your sobs grew harder. Your fists clenched at your sides, and you turned toward the living room, your legs shaky but determined to put as much distance between you and Kyle as possible.

The whispers in the room grew louder, people murmuring to each other as they pieced together what was happening. You caught snippets of words—your name, Kyle’s name, quiet gasps and murmurs of “What’s going on?” and “Did you see her face?”

You felt utterly exposed, like a spotlight had been turned on you, magnifying every tear, every smudge, every flaw.

Kyle’s voice broke through the noise again, sharper this time. “[Y/N], will you just listen to me?”

You spun around, your tears blurring your vision as you screamed back, “For what, Kyle? What could you possibly say that would fix this?”

The room went quiet again. You glanced around, realizing how many people were staring—how many of your friends were watching you fall apart.

kyle makes me laugh | part two

[blankwashed]

Backstory: After years away, Caleb finally returns to Linkon, ready to pick up where he left off. He’s been gone long enough to chase his career, but the draw of the old town—and you—was never far from his mind. Tonight, he walks into the familiar bar, hoping to make up for lost time. The years apart haven’t dimmed his feelings for you; if anything, they’ve only intensified. During this one night to catch up, Caleb’s determined to see if the spark is still there, he wondered if you felt the same way about him as he did about you.

Triggers: Explicit sexual content (Sex in the club’s toilet), Slightly alcoholic substances (It’s a club), death of Caleb and Hunter’s grandma mentioned

It’s been years—no, let alone decades—since you’ve seen your childhood friend, Caleb. The memory of him was burnt into your mind: sharp eyes that always seemed to see too much, that cocky smirk that got him out of trouble just as often as it got him in it. Back then, he was trouble you didn’t dare to approach. And now? Trouble is exactly what he looks like as he leans against the far wall of the bar, one boot propped up, a glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers.

You froze in the doorway, your pulse skipping like a damn schoolkid’s, though you’d never admit it. He’s different now—broader shoulders, a shadow of stubble darkening his sharp jaw, and a dangerous air that screams don’t touch. But those eyes? Those same intense, soul-pinning eyes? They lock on to you the second you step inside.

He doesn’t smile, not right away. No, his lips pull into something slower, darker—a smirk that tells you he knows exactly how your stomach is twisting. And as if the years apart mean nothing, he tips his glass in your direction, daring you to come closer.

You don’t, not immediately, of course. You head to the bar instead, ignoring the heat of his gaze crawling over your back. You can feel him watching, though, as you order a drink.

“Bartender! One scotch on the rocks. Put it on this tab,” you said as you slipped a hundred dollar bill on the bar. Caleb doesn’t know that you drink now, hell, the last time he met you, it was practically against the law to go to such a place! But to find you in a place like this now…he’s got a few questions for you to answer.

As the bartender gave you the drink you ordered, he mentioned that you didn’t need to pay for it as a ‘kind gentleman’ already paid for your tab. Slightly confused, you had to guess it was Caleb. The scotch made your skin tingle and your fingers to tighten around the glass when you finally took a sip.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” came his voice, low and rough as he stepped up beside you. His presence was way too familiar but towering and close, and his scent, leather and smoke, it flooded your senses.

“I could say the same thing,” you replied coolly, keeping your focus on your drink, even though your pulse is hammering. “Didn’t think you’d still be alive.”

He chuckled, the sound low and delicious. “Oh, I’m full of surprises, sweet pea. You, though…” He leans in, his breath brushing your ear. “You’re exactly the same. Still trying to act like I don’t get under your skin.”

You stiffenned, your glass clinking against the counter as you set it down a little too hard. “And you’re still an arrogant prick huh?” you snap, spinning to face him. But damn it, he’s closer than you expected, those lips just inches from yours, his eyes burning with something dangerous.

“And yet,” he murmurred, stepping into your space, his hand brushing your waist, “here you are, letting me get close. Then I’m guessing…still single?”

Your breath catches, your body betraying you with the way it leans into him despite your better judgment. He notices, of course he notices, and that damn smirk deepens.

“You missed me,” he whispered, his voice a rough caress, his hand sliding to your hip, squeezing just enough to send sparks up your spine.

“To hell with that,” you shot back, but your voice trembles, and the way his eyes darken tells you he heard it.

“Liar,” he growled, and then his lips crashed onto yours—hot, demanding, a kiss that steals your breath and leaves no room for doubt. His hands were on you, possessive and firm, pulling you against his body like he’s been waiting for this moment for years.

The kiss breaks, and he stared down at you, his thumb brushing your cheek as his voice drops to a rasp. “You can tell yourself you hate me all you want, sweetheart. But your body? It doesn’t lie.”

And when you grabbed his shirt and dragged him back to you, your lips crashed onto his this time, you knew he’s right. He knew he was right.

You never forgot about him.

“Why did Grandma have to die and not you instead?”

The words hang in the air like a gunshot, sharp and final. You hadn’t meant to say it, at least not out loud. But the second they leave your lips, the silence between you feels suffocating.

Caleb stiffens, his jaw clenching so tight you can see the muscle tick. His usual bravado, that cocky shield he always hides behind, is gone in an instant. All that’s left is the raw, wounded man beneath.

He takes a step back, his eyes narrowing, but there’s a flash of something else—pain, maybe? Regret? It’s gone as fast as it came, replaced by that cold, hardened look you’ve seen him wear a hundred times before.

“Is that what you really think of me?” His voice is low, deadly calm, but there’s an edge to it, sharp enough to cut.

You don’t answer, your chest heaving with a mix of anger and guilt. You should apologize, take it back—but part of you doesn’t want to. Part of you wants to hurt him the way he’s hurt you, the way his absence, his choices, have haunted you for years.

“Go on, say it again,” Caleb growls, stepping closer this time, your body basically hitting the back of the bar’s walls. “Say it so I know exactly how much you hate me.”

Your lips part, but the words stick in your throat. The anger is still there, burning bright but the way he’s looking at you - his eyes dark and raw, his body towering over yours..it’s throwing you off balance. You hate him, and yet…you can’t ignore tha way your body reacts to the heat rolling off him.

“Maybe I will,” you snapped, lifting your chin, refusing to back down. “Maybe you deserve to hear it. Maybe you deserve to die under all that rubble from our house instead of grandma. She’s innocent, but you? You killed, you murdered, you..”

He’s closer to you now, so close till you can feel the tension vibrating off him. He isn’t afraid of you, even after hearing the heartless things you said from your mouth. “You don’t mean that,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t? How’d you know, huh?” you challenged, your voice shaking just enough to betray the turmoil inside you. Mainly, the scotch playing with your voice.

For a moment, it’s like he’s about to walk away. You know how much he treasured grandma, so talking about something like that hit heavy for him. He never wanted her to perish but…

“Then hate me,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Hate me all you want. But don’t fucking pretend you don’t feel this.”

Your heart pounded, your head was already intoxicated and pounding from the questions your mind was playing on itself. “I hate you,” you whispered, but the way your fingers traced the line of his jaw told him a different story.

“Liar,” he growls but before you can respond his mouth was on yours again, stealing every thought, every ounce of self control. His hands roamed your body, claiming every inch as if he’s trying to prove something, as if he’s trying to remind you of everything you’ve been trying to forget.

Him.

You gasped as his teeth grazed the curve of you neck, his unshaved stubble tough against your skin in a way that has your thighs squeezing around his hips. Caleb’s hands were everywhere—pulling, grabbing, demanding— as though he’s afraid if he stopped touching you for even a second, you’ll disappear.

“Gods, you drive me fucking crazy,” he growled against your collarbone, his voice rough and filled with something raw. His hands slip under your shirt, calloused fingers brushing against the bare skin of your pushed-up cleavage.

You clutch at his shoulders, your nails digging in hard enough to leave marks ans the low rumble from his chest tells you he likes it. He loved it hard. “Good,” you spat back at him, yanking at the collar of his shirt. “Maybe now you know what it feels like.”

He pulls you to a secluded toilet stall that has a singular light bulb hanging from the ceiling. “You think you’re the only one?” he snaps, his hands tightening on your waist, dragging your hips against his. “You’ve been under my skin since the day we met, sweetheart. You fucking own me, and you don’t even realise it.”

His confession only confirmed his feelings for you, but you didn’t get a chance to respond. His lips were on yours again, his kiss was brutal and angry with its intensity. He ngaws at your bottom lip and when you almost let out a yelp, his tongue slides into your mouth. Always trying to take control like it’s the only thing he knows how to do.

Your back hits the counter of the toilet. “We..we’re doing it here? In this disgusting shit hole?” you said, as you swore you saw someone go there to vomit almost 5 minutes ago.

“Do you have a better suggestion, angel?” he said a matter of factly. Caleb tugs your shirt over your head in one sharp motion (it was just a strapless top anyways).

“You make me a fucking menace, did you know that?” he growled. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You barely managed to get out a breathless, “Maybe,” before his mouth was back on yours, his kiss so hungry it steals the air from your lungs. His tongue tangles with yours, and you moan into his mouth as his hand slides down the tight mini-skirt you wore.

“Fuck,” he murmured against your lips when his fingers lapped up how wet you were. “You’re soaked already? Guess you don’t hate me as much as much as you said, huh?”

“Shut up,” you snapped, but the way your body arches into his touches, you were completely lying at this point.

He smirks. That cocky bastard, and his fingers slipped right into your folds, teasing you with just enough pressure to make your legs tremble. “Say it,” he demands, his voice low and commanding. “Say you want me, sweetpea.”

Your pride was high and wanted you to hold your ground. “I hate this, I hate that childhood name that you keep calling me. I’m an adult now, don’t you see?” you tried to say with gusto while trying to glare into his eyes but instead the breathy moan that escaped when he slides one finger inside of you made it clear how much of a lie that was.

“Liar…” he growls, his thumb circling around your clit, pinching in the areas where he knew would drive any woman mad. “You hate me, hm? But you’re dripping for me? Tell me again, sweetheart. Tell me how much you hate this as much as you hate me.”

Your head falls back against the door, your hips rocking with his hand as heat floods through your veins. “You’re such an asshole, always has been..always will be.”you managed to quiver as your nails drugged into his shoulders as you tried to ground yourself against the intensity of the orgasm he gave you.

“And you fucking love it,” he shot back as he adds another finger, stretching you. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten the way you looked at me. The way you bite your lip every time I get too close.”

You wanted to argue as you always do but the pleasure building inside of you steals the words from your lips. Instead, a strangled moan escapes as his fingers curl. hitting that spot that makes your vision blur.

“Say my name,” he demands, his voice way more rough that you remembered it to be. “Say it.”

“C-Caleb,” you gasp, wanting to find the same pleasure that he was giving to you.

Caleb of course, a man of his own word, lifted you up in one smooth motion and carried you to the sink. In one smooth motion, his shirt is on the nasty bar’s floor. He flexed and the hard lines of his body were showing that he had all power and control now.

“You want more, my sweet?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave as he looms over you with eyes dark with lust.

“Don’t make me beg. You know I never do,” you managed to say despite your voice sounding breathless.

His smirk returns, that annoying cocky grin that would make you punch bricks but fall in love with him. “Oh you’ll beg, sweetheart,” he promises, his hands parting your thighs apart as he lowers himself between them. “But don’t worry—I’ll make it worth your wait.”

Caleb’s lips are in between your thighs, giving kisses in areas where no one has been before. He was teasing, again. Memorising every inch, every curve, every scar…it was just agonising. The way his tongue moved had your body arching into him. your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him deeper as your breath came in gasps.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with hunger. At that point, the both of you forgot you were in public. He’s between your legs again, skirt chucked up in some other random place, his main goal to give you sensations that sent you overdrive. The heat was building, swirling, coiling tighter and tighter as he works his long fingers and tongue in you with relentless precision.

“Caleb, please,” you begged, your voice trembling. “Please, I need this—“

He was not letting your finish, not when he’s this close to breaking you. His fingers slide inside your again, curling deep and his other hand grips your thigh stabilising your half drunk body as you spread wide for him.

“Need what, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice silky and dangerous, his lips brushing your inner thigh as he speaks. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

“You,” you moan, your body trembling under his trouch, his name slipping from your lips. “You, Caleb, please I need you.”

His smirk widen as he pulls aways just enough to hover over you. you could see his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. He looks down at you with the same intensity and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something more in his eyes—love? No, it was something deeper. This was him fulfilling his dream, his desire.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t remember your own name,” he growls as he positions himself at your entrance.

Before pushing in he rubbed his very hard cock along your soaked pussy, making you wonder whether he was teasing you again. But once he slowly filled you in with one smooth stroke, the pain made you realise why. Caleb thrusted deeper and you gasped when he bottomed out making you stay still and silent. He wanted to move but he was waiting for your answer.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice way quieter now. He wants to move but he was waiting for your answer.

You nod, your hips already starting to rock against him, craving more but the burn of his length was ripping your insides apart. Everything you’ve ever wanted.

“More,” you moaned, “please, Caleb. Don’t stop.”

With that, he moves, his hips snapping forward to meet yours in forceful motions. HIs rhythm is relentless—hard and fast—pounding into you as his name falls from your lips over and over. It was consummating for you, finally, after all these years of loving him for a far.

His hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as he fucks you harder, faster, his voice rough while he speaks.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice low. “Say you need me.”

“I need you,” you cried out, the words spilling from your lips as the pleasure inside you becomes unbearable. “I fucking need you, Caleb!”

And with that, he fucks you harder, faster, as if the world was exploding behind him but it didn’t matter because he was having the best time of his life. Your body shakes by the own force of your orgasm and Caleb follows close behind, his own cum spilling into you with a rough groan.

Both of you are breathless, your bodies tangled together on the sink. Both of your breathing normalises while staring into each other’s eyes.

“You still hate me?” he softly asked as he stares into your eyes. His lips smirking, but in a gentle way.

“Very much.” you replied, your voice still a little shaky but the both of you knew it was your biggest lie.

[heftmanrhamm]

Sorry my mum said I can't play with you anymore BC you call it parma

Noooooo!!! :,(

Sorry, can we make up over a HSP?

[lususnatura]

💟

the expression on blamore's face while he sat next to eliza on their picnic (date) was made of pure joy. i mean, the two of them were sitting in the middle of a meadow together, with a blanket beneath them and various foods spread out all around them... which was already lovely. though what really made this moment special to it was the fact that elizabeth looked so beautiful in the sun like this: her green eyes shining, those bountiful red tresses of hair of hers descending down her shoulders like pillars of flame, and her outfit? ooh, eliza had managed to outdo herself yet again in the art of appearing like an angel. all blamore could think about now was that there was only one thing that could possibly make things more perfect right now.

waiting for the ideal moment to do so might just take a bit. he scooted slightly closer to eliza, then, to make sure that she was comfortable with being physically close to the plant-hybrid. he knew that he had gotten attached to her rather quickly after all and didn't want to run the risk of possibly scaring her away. not to say that eliza would be for sure, but still, blamore thought. the faint sound of leaves rustling with the wind soon occupied the space all around them. a gentle, cool breeze had just made it's way to them, ❝ ahh, this is so relaxing, isn't it? i feel like i could stay like this for forever. ❞ the sigh that slipped through it's lips was equally quiet and content; blamore just taking a moment to bask in the reprieve it granted them from the heat.

a partially lichen-covered hand got closer to eliza's to the point where their pinkies were just barely touching. blamore could feel his heart against his chest at this point, while nervous energy seemed to build up in his bones all at once. it had done this before. kissed someone, i mean, and it could do it again. that was the belief that burgeon was currently trying to drill into himself while his eyes darted down from the other's eyes to her lips. ❝ you know... excuse me if i'm being a bit forward, but the moment i saw you here, i got this fluttery feeling in my chest. i think you'd call it 'butterflies?' i don't know, but — ❞ a hearty chuckle resounded from it's throat as it summoned the courage to intertwine a few of it's fingers with hers from above.

❝ i wanted to do something since the last time that i saw you, ❞ a good-natured smile made it's way onto his face, before blamore leaned towards eliza and it revealed why in just a few seconds. it pressed a delicate kiss to her lips, along with raised a hand to gently cup her cheek midway through it. he allowed himself a moment to caress eliza's cheek with her thumb before completely pulling away from her. and burgeon was pleasantly surprised by this, because although it once believed that it couldn't be happier to be sharing his time with her, it was proven wrong.

[screampied]

DI☆MOND BOY. g. satoru

☆ sum. if there’s anything more scarier than a special grade curse to gojo, it’s coming home to his pretty ‘lil wife who’s got a sizzling hot temperature of baby fever.

wc. 8k

warnings. fem! reader, housewife! reader, fluffy smut, unprotected, mention of kids (2), baby fever, brief láctation kink, bóob obsessed gojo, cėrvix mentions, body worship, cunnīlingus, this is where you’re weak right, r has stretch marks, dad! bod gojo, breęding, sqúirting, spitting on it, fingęring, filthy pússy talk, implied multiple rounds, petnames.

an. this is kinda rawdogged, im ugly sobbing to sza, and i think … im a gojo girl now (・・?)

“sweetheaaart?” satoru steps through the doorway, doing a quick scan around the semi-tidy living room that he’s greeted with. turning to lock the door, the heel of his shoe nearly steps onto the edge of a squeaky teething toy. he picks it up, putting it in the basket of other toys with a contempt smile—remembering the kids were staying at your grandparents ‘till the weekend.

still - silence.

satoru scratched his head once you didn’t reply like usual whenever he announced himself. pulling off his coat, his husband instincts kicked in instantaneously. what if - what if, the same questions repeated through his head as he made his way upstairs. his heart’s racing, and as he’s speeding through the narrow hallway, he just hopes his wife’s alright.

but as he twists the croaking handle of the bedroom door, he’s met with you lying on his side of the bed. with a towel underneath you, you’ve got a cute scrunched-up look of frustration as you rub a vibrating wand up and down between your legs. you’re sprawled open—and as you’re whimpering repeatedly, it takes you a long second to realize satoru’s just stiffly standing in the doorway with the dumbest lopsided grin.

“s- satoru!”

“hey, girl,” his eyes avert toward your pretty thighs that trembled, occasionally leering back toward the drenched white towel that sat underneath you. stepping closer, he tossed the bag of toiletries you asked for, hearing it flop near the nightstand. “hey to you too, pretty.” and you pouted, watching as he slowly took the active buzzing toy from your hands.

leaning in, he greets your ankle with a delicate kiss. “ ‘m home, ‘toru’s home.”

his touch, it was forever gentle.

satoru’s lips softly planted against your skin, tilting his head to get a closer look at you - the epitome of looking like a guilty deer in headlights.

cute.

“how was um.. work?” you murmur, trying to ignore the quickening beats of your active heart.

thump after thump after thump and it’s just so loud that you were even starting to hear each pound sound out of your chest and through your ears.

satoru sits up, sliding a part of the blindfold to lift over his left eye.

right away - he’s staring at you with icy-blue eyes that resemble calming waves of crashing tides. long lashes of his flapped prettily as it took in your exposed figure with a single glance.

“was alrigh’,” he hoarsely mumbles before staring at the toy that was propped between your legs just a minute ago—gripping it in his palm. “are we gonna talk about this though?”

“i thought you’d be home later,” you shyly replied, feeling satoru gingerly rest his chin against your bare tummy. your voice sounded so smooth, especially whenever you were a tad bit nervous. he could listen to you all day. “and i never have time to um..”

“play with yourself?” satoru raised a snowy brow, kissing the centre of your stomach.

“mhm.”

“sweetheart, you have me y’know,” he flips a thumb over one of the pink buttons that were on the button, switching it off. the buzzing noise gradually dies down with a ‘powering off’ sound before he sets it aside.

god - you felt so fuckin’ hot.

as he laid close between your legs, showering your skin with ‘i missed you’ kisses — you let off a soft, contempt sigh.

“yeah, but- like, when you aren’t here. i would call you but i don’t wanna do that while you’re working, ‘toru,” and satoru places the edge of his wrist on the side of his cheek, intently listening to you.

his eyes softened - pupils dilating with love, nearly forming into hearts as you spoke. as your sentences continued—you could see tiny dimples forming at each corner of his crooked pink lips. he’s trying so hard not to smile. “. . what?”

satoru sits up before pressing a three-second kiss against your lips. “sweetheart, you can call me while ‘m at work, you know. i don’t mind if it’s you,” and he surprises the left side of your temple with another peck. “even if it’s a text. you’re the only thing that keeps me sane when i’m out trying to save the world.”

“okay,” you replied, cupping his face.

satoru stares deeply into your eyes, and you can already visibly see that smug grin preparing to tug across his pink-glittery lips.

there was something else though.

with the kids away ‘till sunday, you found yourself pondering a bit.

you’d be watching some random show on tv them out of nowhere — you’re hit with a commercial for diapers.

it’s like the universe was trying you.

it’d happen at least more than once a day, and you’re just thinking . . . what if.

satoru and you joked about having another baby sometimes but now - it had you thinking.

just imagining the pure imagery of you walking around with a plump, swollen tummy, again—having satoru carry you almost anywhere, hearing him lovingly brag about his oh-so-perfect wife that’s expecting in the background of a phone call.

ah.

you had baby fever,

again.

that much was apparent, and satoru noticed how you were spacing out mid-conversation.

“heeey, what’s goin’ on in that pretty mind?” he pouts, his face still cupped with both of your palms. “earth to mama gojo.”

“satoru,” you’d sigh, a breathy gasp trying to tear its way through your lungs. you felt like you were burning up—and the more he pressed sweet kisses against your tummy, the more you started to feel your temperature rising. “i.. i feel hot.”

his eyes widen, placing a hand on the back of your forehead. “is everything okay?” and as he starts to get into his ‘protective husband mode’,

satoru sits up, white brows twitching in concern. “stay here, baby. let me get a thermo-”

“no, no- not hot in that way, ‘toru,” you shake your head, grabbing his wrist.

satoru’s a bit dumbfounded and it takes his empty brain a bit to fully register what you meant. leisurely, your thumb circles around his hardened knuckles before you give him that look.

he knew that look all too well.

“oh! oh, you’re …. horny. okay!” he dryly laughs, his look of worry slowly faltering.

satoru grabs your wrists, giving each of them soft open-mouthed kisses before speaking warmly. “i should’ve . . . figured, hehh-” and his eyes flicker down between your legs that were shamelessly dripping from each thigh with dewy drops of slippery slick. “was the new toy treating you well?”

“no. you sort of interrupted me and i didn’t finish.” you huffed, and satoru cheekily grinned.

“well pardon me for thinking somethin’ happened to my beloved missus,” satoru sneaks another kiss against your lips.

he tastes sweet - his lips, were always naturally glossed and his lashes lowered once you let off a cute, impatient sigh.

“but, my poor poor girl,” you moaned as he continued to hoarsely tease you, feeling him sneak a big hand between your already cracked-open thighs.

“girls,” he corrects himself, bringing the pad of his thumb near the opening of your drenched clit. you’re whimpering, hearing a single wet slosh sob from between your legs once satoru gives your entrance a single sparing second of his attention. “she’s as wet as ever, huh.”

“s.. s- ‘toruuu-” you’d gasp, watching as his head trails down low low low until it reaches just below your abdomen.

satoru’s hair gently grazed against your skin, and you were desperately holding in a deep exhale that you didn’t even know you were clinging onto for the longest.

“let’s see how much she’s missed me..” satoru gravelly coos, giving your nub a gentle kiss. it’s a wet ‘mwah’ that sticks against his lips like paste.

your legs were already struggling to hold still, and satoru couldn’t help but hum. as he swirls the flat of his palm around your twitching pussy in sloppy circles, you could already see him hungrily licking his lips through your blurred peripherals.

lying fully back, your back hits against the cushioned pillow that flatly plumps itself out against your weight.

your breaths started to sound more and more labored the closer he pursed his puckered his lips..

wetly, satoru brings a lanky middle finger towards your entrance before gradually sinking it inside. you’re moaning, feeling the lengthy tip of his tongue before he treats the top of your clit with a few beginning kitten licks.

“f- fuuuck,” your brows curled together, feeling him cup his mouth around your pussy. it’s a damp, wet pop! that resounds from between your legs, and it’s all because of his finger that easily disappears between your folds. “more, ‘toru- pleaseplease.”

“ ‘m gettin’ there,” he purrs huskily, grunting once he swirls his middle finger around inside of you. it’s so looong, stretching all through you as he feels you tighten around his digit for a few split seconds.

“atta girl, bare ‘round it for me jus’ like that baby … fuck.” as you’re slowly wetting his middle finger with your slickness, that’s when you feel him preparing to stick another in.

it’s so slippery yet again - loudly, it pops its way inside, echoing out a pretty noise before he eases his index finger inside. satoru’s fingers were just so damn long that it didn’t take him long to locate your g-spot at all.

with a ‘c’mere’ motion of his fingers pulling back and forth inside of you, he’s flicking both fingers you’re already spasming out. he’s reaching you good, and he’s drinking every melodic moan that left from your lips.

“f- fuck, riiiight there,” you’d continue, your hips squirming a bit. parched breaths from satoru fanned against your pussy, and he’s groaning right with you.

you’re just so wet - drowning in puddles of your lustful filth, and like the doting husband he was, he just had to clean you up. proudly, he does so with nothing more than a few flicks of his tongue.

“s.. satoruuu.” you’d whimper, biting the inside of your cheek once the pad of his index finger’s starting to ruuub its way against your g-spot.

your scent - satoru went feral for it every time, and he’s starting to lap his tongue against your clit at a much more erratic speed.

he’s forming slow yet steady stripes in an up ‘n down motion, occasionally smearing a thumb across your cunt to hear you whine. satoru’s low groans were muffled—sounding husky and all, and he’s just merrily slurping you while you writhe uncontrollably against his face. he even had the goofiest grin on his face the entire time too.

he had to admit, being between his wife’s legs or even being in your presence alone was far better than fighting some ugly special grade curse.

your grabby hands found their way to your full, jouncing breasts and you gave them a nice squeeze before whining again. even that made you sensitive.

between the wet thrusts of his long tongue—satoru’s giving your heat sloppy, sloppy kisses, even making sure to give your pussy a few pecks also. he left no area unattended.

satoru’s eyes shined bright, even brighter whenever when he was between your thighs.

in a way, the colors of his blue eyes had parallels to the shade of sapphire or any jewel, really.

as his eyes occasionally met against your own— you’re always staring at a vibrant, luminescent shade of cerulean that was forevermore fixated on you and only you.

his wife.

“mhh, hearin’ her cry for me is just the recharge i need from work, sweetheart,” he groans, cautiously pushing his twinned digits in of your cunt before pulling them riiiight back out.

not all the way, but just to where the glossy tips of his fingers showed. you’re clamping down on them both well—and he made sure that you felt every inch. you were indeed loud though, especially between your legs.

as satoru’s counting each vulgar squelch in his head, tittering to himself at how you just couldn’t help but pop out slosh after soddened slosh..

he’s paying attention to certain spots inside of you, and he’s stickily hitting all tender spots inside of your pussy - treating each one like a target.

bullseye after bullseye - he hits you in all the right places, and if it was one thing satoru’s long fingertips didn’t do, it was that they never miss.

ever.

your back’s just arching like a stretching feline, and your unsteady irregular breaths were far more than labored by this point. satoru’s tongue glides its way across your pussy before he takes a moment to spit right against your sopping entrance. you’re moaning, peering down at him, and he’s so focused on the mess taking place between your cute, shuddering thighs..

“haah-” he breathes, pulling out his fingers briefly to suck on them for a taste. “missed her so bad. she’s missed me too - fuck, can’t . . help but clench all ‘round me,” he whispers, prying your legs even more apart.

satoru’s taking his precious sweet time, savoring each honeyed drop that dribbled down your thighs before he feels your hand gripping his hair. as his head abruptly yanks forward, satoru looks up at you while sliding a tongue over his lower, slick-covered lip. “hm?”

“ ‘toru, m- my stretch marks,” you hesitate, your thumb gently digging a path through his scalp.

pausing, his dripping lips rested near the crevice of your thighs before he kissed the inner corner. “yeah. what about ‘em?”

truth be told, you were never so fond of them.

you knew your body would change after pregnancy, even more after the second time but still -

it had you feeling a bit iffy sometimes, pouting whenever you looked in the mirror and peeking down to glance at the stained marks reminding you of your visibly changing body.

“its just.. so-”

“beautiful, perfect, gorgeoussss..” he lowly whispers, kissing your thighs after each compliment that sang from his twitching lips.

satoru always knew the perfect time to cut off your sentence that he just knew was gonna be something negative.

with him—he’s listened to you express about your stretch marks, or anything new appearing on your body, and every single time, he’d remind you of just how flawless you were - to him.

you moaned, looking down to see his crimson-pink lips halting from your aroused entrance, pressing dozens of wet kisses down each striping mark that stretched against the inner parts of your thighs.

his lips were so zealously soft, and each impact of the kiss had your heart fluttering in the same way a butterfly flapped its wings. satoru’s fluffed ivory tresses were still gripped tightly in your hand, and he could feel your hold lessening by the second.

“even if you may not like your body, i love it,” he murmurs lowly, closing his eyelids. “and i love you.”

your skin was burning up, probably hotter than before and your heart felt like it was about to burst out the middle of your rising chest. each beat was more powerful than the last, and you started to feel a tingle in your toes.

“but baby-” he continues, bringing the back of your hand toward his lips before giving it a chaste kiss.

“i hope you know that you’ve gifted me two children with this beautiful body,” satoru sighs, guiding his lips down the bottom of your tummy to shower a kiss there too. “i’ll remind you every day of why i love you ‘n your beauty marks if that’s what you want. besides! i’m growing some too heh-”

“ ‘toru-”

“starting now,” he coos hotly, trailing his kisses back down between the valley of your legs. “such a perfect body, can’t believe i get ‘ta call you mine,” and with one concluding kiss against your marks, he brings an eager closing kiss against your drooling cunt. “can’t forget ‘bout her too, my other pretty wet girl.”

whining, you felt an impatient heat pooling its way around inside of you. your legs started to quaver again, and you were feeling your jaw tighten before slacking. “sa- satoru, ‘m gonna .. cum,” you rawly mewl out, your grip on his hair tightening again like before.

pursing his thin lips into a straight line, he brings them back toward your pussy, sluuurping everything out of you whilst you’re nearly dragging his head back and forth against your dripping heat.

satoru’s stubble tickles against your folds and it cutely makes your legs twitch. with your ankles having a mind of its own, they wrap around satoru’s neck — keeping him in a lock.

“mmgh-” his white lashes remained shut as he cupped his lips with such intensity.

satoru’s chin was getting drenched with your mess, and he couldn’t care less. his head moves and moves, swaying frantically between your legs while forgetting to take a single breath.

you tasted like candy - equivalent like honey, and the tip of his tongue was adamant on slurping up any ‘n every single drop of nectar that dribbled from between your puffed slit. satoru’s always had a sweet tooth, and your cunt was the only treat he’d happily feast on all day long if he could.

“c’mon, pretty,” he huffs breathlessly, the button tip of his nose swiping its way down your clit. you’re so so close, and your orgasm’s just sitting on your maddened tastebuds.

as his head continues to ferociously bob between your shaky legs, you’re whining with those same sweet babbles and babbles of his name, begging for him to not stop. his tongue’s just covered with his sugary-tasting saliva—sticky webs gluing against the bottom part of his chin as he’s now buried nose deep.

“toru, satoruuu,” and its more of a pitiful battle cry.

the edges of his teeth softly nip against your cunt before his tongue lazily circles around your throbbing frenulum. an incoming prolonged moan gets caught in your throat as you feel his head tilting for a better angle. “cum- ‘m cumming, fuuuck!”

as your release was coming to its teetering demise, you were shrieking at the top of your lungs in overwhelmed pleasure.

satoru’s giving your labia its final sweet ‘lil wet sucks before feeling your legs weakly releasing its temporary lock around his head.

heavily, he’s panting sharply against your pussy before bringing a thumb toward the top part of your puffy nub.

satoru’s sloppily spreading it apart with a single finger, staring at the cute excited pulse that occurs from the very inside of your pussy.. “haah- good girl.” he praises, feeling you arch further once his drenched stubble scrapes against your crying entrance.

you’re wetter than ever - and satoru’s lips shined even brighter thanks to your treacly juices. passively, his reddened tongue chafed ‘n twirled ‘round inside of you, and as you’re still riding out your eye-boggling finish on his face, you grab him by the hair. “s- satoru, just.. hah- came.”

“mhm~” he clumsily falls face-first against your cunt, giving your teary folds a wet kiss.

smugly, he looks up at you with a slick chin before whistling against your clit. “phewww. did ya?” he grumbles, creeping a plump thumb near your puckering hole.

you clench at that, and he ogled as your tummy sinks inward. “fuck, s.. sooo damn pretty,” and as he gives your pussy a few departing french kisses, he sighs. “mmch-” he smacks his lips, and you stared as he swiftly removed his blindfold with one hand.

as you’re panting yourself, your legs remained spread.

still lying on his stomach, satoru brought his black blindfold up to his sneering lips before wiping it side-to-side, using it as a handkerchief.

“hah- wifey tastes as good as always,” he snickers, closing the gap between you two with his own body. as satoru’s towering figure falls against you, he brings a longing, silky peck to you before groaning against your trembling, kiss-swollen lips.

satoru awkwardly moves against you before mumbling out a few ‘f… fuck’ ‘s once he feels a certain something poke from the middle of his boxers.

he’s … hard.

you felt the bulge stick out of the cloth, pressing against your bare cunt — its hard to miss, and your hands instinctively reached for the knotted string of his pants.

“baby-” he bites his lip, feeling the tent prod wider. its almost painful, and he’s even starting to grind against your leg to ease the throbbing. “mmgh-” he goofily grins, his expression shortly switching to a look of lustful panic.

he’s been so focused on you that he didn’t even realize all this time—he’s had a raging boner that’s been aching for any sort of crumbs of attention.

“baby, were you working while being this hard?” you timidly murmur, watching as satoru’s face flushes with a burning tint of strawberry red.

“h.. heh. no silly,” lie.

satoru had a bit of a bad habit of randomly thinking about you - his adorable, sweet ‘n perfect wife while he was out fighting enemies.

sometimes, the longer he thought about you - the longer his problem got.

satoru brings a hand toward your right breast, and you gasped once he gives it a loud ‘popping’ suck. frosty-white strands of his hair drag against your skin as he’s slooowly running his balmy, hot tongue around your sensitive nipple.

you were still tender - not just anywhere but everywhere.

it’s fully marked a year since you had your second child, meaning that of course, your body would still be a bit sensitive in some places. places like your soft, rounded breasts—especially.

you moaned, feeling the tip of his drooling, wet tongue criss-cross its way around your perked areola. every suck suck suck pops out from his lips louder, and you start to play with his hair.

“s.. satoru,” you whined, a pout starting to display against your lips as he tended to each breast lovingly.

“i know.. i hah- know,” he breathes through rushed exhales, turning you on your side. “jus' wanted to make sure my favorite girls got some attention too.”

you felt the cool air whoosh against your skin at each second he released each nipple from his lips. it's brief - but quick, and satoru’s already got you pulsating. he’s flicking his tongue while fluttering his lashes at you, allowing clear driblets of saliva to drizzle from the cracks of his mouth.

you’re biting your lip the entire time as you held the back of his head close—hearing a bit of shuffling before satoru’s eyes trail down your fidgeting body.

so cute.

there’s a shiny sparkle in his eyes, it’s glimmer never faltering and he’s just falling in love all over again.

every moment he spent staring at you or your body, he felt that same lump forming in the back of his throat.

“ ‘s this comfy?” he wantonly purrs, caressing the bare flesh of your ass. you cling onto the pillow beside you before giving him a nod.

the slight shuffling you heard was from satoru. his sweats fell to the carpet floor with a loud thud, and his boxers shortly followed afterward.

finally - he could breathe.

his boner was just crying weakly, the tip feeling so hot as it had pearly-white globules of pre-cum wetly darting from all veiny sides.

sighing, satoru wraps a palm around his hardened cock before clicking his tongue while continuing to tease you. “ah- words, sweetheart. y’know how ‘ta use ‘em.”

“y- yes.” and with how whiny your words came out, you mentally slapped yourself.

satoru’s skin was just so close to yours - radiating hot waves of heat against your thighs. within seconds, he’s already enveloping you gradually with his embracing warmth.

pouting and all, you were steadily impatient, and he heard your cute ‘lil sighs of agitation repeating ‘till he lifted your leg.

sideways.

he was gonna take you sideways, and the single thought alone brewed up a flittering feeling of butterflies in your empty tummy.

“haah- missed you all day, have no idea.” satoru inhales through each nostril, bringing his cherry-capped tip towards your weeping entrance.

so … damn … soaked..

as he gawked, he could still taste the sugary-sweet remnants of your essence in his mouth, coating his lips like a natural gloss.

as you’re on your left side, your tits end up smushing against each other. it’s such a pretty sight too, ‘cause not even seconds later, you heard a raspy ‘ohhh fuck’ draw from satoru’s lips.

your pussy was just profusely leaking, and satoru’s holding back all hearty grunts the minute his swollen tip smacked its way against your lustrous-coated slit.

as it sops with nothing but runny molasses of your own colorless slick, your chest sucks in. “ ‘toruuuu, baby- fuckk. don’t tease me,” you’d whimper, quietly huffing at each commencing pap sound of his tip gently hitting against your folds.

he hums, hearing his wet you were - how sloppy you sounded.

satoru’s tip’s an angry red, fuming with a carmine flushing shade and he’s groaning once his vast thumb sinfully brushes past a prominent throbbing vein.

pulse after pulse after fuckin’ pulse, and you’re just making him harder.

“s… shit, you’re right. if i tease you, ‘m just gonna end up makin’ myself finish early, princess.” satoru diffidently chortles, and you hear the pathetic squelch of your pussy begging for him to just shut up and ease his way inside already..

finally - satoru’s making his way inside, ploddingly sinking a few inches inside.

with a few wet ‘fwop’ sloshes, he’s disappearing into you. like always, you’re hugging him tight - dependent on never letting him go.

your pussy’s warmth makes satoru’s glitzed lashes flap shut for a moment, and he’s kissing his teeth. your wetness was taking him to a whole new world almost. it’s almost entirely satisfying at how you’re just swallowing all hefty nth-inches like it was nothing.

as satoru’s trying to carefully fit his way in, he runs a hand down his tummy that’s growing a bit of a pudge. he was starting to develop a dad bod himself.

satoru was still very much fit, but as the years went on—he was eventually starting to get plump, more . . soft.

overtime, he liked being the little spoon in bed. he was really soft - identical to a teddy bear with strong arms wrapping around you. his favorite position to sleep would usually be with his head resting between your chest or on your stomach.

he’s got a trail of white hairs that sprinkled all across his chest like paint splattered on a canvas. a few hairs even made their way toward his chiseled v-line, dashing just below his pelvis. all over his body, he still had multiple scars—scars from countless battles, and he himself always found them unpleasant to look at.

but just like he did for you - you made sure to kiss all of his scars that decorated his skin.

you still felt his sharpened natural abs - they were just a bit softer though.

satoru grunts, stuffing a hand underneath the crack of your bent leg before he’s juuuust about bottomed out.

his rotund base was as full as it’s ever been, and he heard your cute gargled whines trying so hard to conceal themselves.

“hng- pretty mama, don’t . . do that,” he takes stingy puffs of air, gripping firmly against your skin. satoru’s brows come into a furrow, and with the final gushing ‘plap’ alerting you both that he’s stuffed balls deep, satoru phews. “i wanna hear ya, let me- hah- hear that pretty voice f’ me.”

“f- fuuuck.” you moan out, your entire steady body becoming unstable, wriggling like jello with just a single rigid thrust.

satoru���s tip is always nice and wide, and it curves its way around your insides before expanding further and further.

with your leg bent at a near-perfect ninety-degree angle, he’s got you right where he wants you.

his dick’s sliiiiding in and out, and fuck- you felt it all.

satoru’s leaning, still holding up your leg before grunting. your cunt’s oily wetness nearly drove him mad, and you’re just coating him with your slick through and through..

the achy muscles in his lower thigh muscles quickly clench, and satoru’s already starting to feel himself break a sweat.

fuck.

“ngh- ‘toru,” you’d whimper out rawly, the chords in your throat struggling to maintain their natural pitch. he’s just hitting you so deep, swabbing the tip of his cock around your pussy like a q-tip.

it was just so sloppy at how it swirled its way in a circle, leaving you nothing but goosebumps from the inside everytime. he’s deep, stuffing you full with all capped inches of his stretching cock.

as he’s sideways right with you—satoru’s skewing his hips a certain way just so you could feel each delicious pound.

if he kept jackhammering into you like that, you were sure you were gonna start drooling against your fleecy pillowcase within no time.

satoru’s sweaty fingerprints were practically glued in between the crevices of your held-up thigh, and he was letting off sharp raspy breaths after each stroke.

he’s full, groaning as his base thwacks its way back ‘n forth into your dripping pussy. the lewd sounds rang through the four thin walls of the bedroom, and you’re just faintly nibbling on your numbed tongue. “s- so full, mngh- right there baby. keep.. hah- fuckin’ me there.”

“god-” satoru leans in, his chest flatly pressed against yours. he helps you sit upright, and you can now crane your head slightly just to see him through your bleary peripherals again. “right here, princess? right .. fuckin’ .. here?”

he’s sloppily punctuating each thrust with his words that coarsely flew past his lips.

satoru’s shaft had the right kind of lean that made you gasp. the lazy, hanging curve of his cock dragged its way through your cunt and had you whining loudly, filling his ear with constant cacophonies of your cute ‘lil ‘pleaseplease’ ‘s, ‘yesyes’ ‘s, and his personal favorite, ‘satoruuuu.’

with your head vaguely turned, he leans in to kiss you.

it’s barely a kiss - more like a bumpy battle of teeth clashing, because with his delirious thrusts, you could hardly reach against his lips.

between kisses, you heard the mixture of wet moans and hearty ‘i love you’ ‘s fall past both shared lips.

satoru’s sly smile stretches across the corners of his mouth as he’s still pounding you into straight oblivion, making sure every single orifice of yours remembers any incoming inch of his.

“hngh- feels.. so hah- good, baby,” you’d babble, taking a few hastened milliseconds in between to breathe.

it felt like you were racing with your breath, forevermore losing.

satoru’s just ruthless - stretching you wholeheartedly as the bed underneath you both grunted in horror. its creaking competed with the headboard from above which was probably older than time itself.

with this particular angle, he’s hitting you even deeper, and you feel the buds on your tongue preparing to sodden with pools of rich, cloying saliva.

“sato- ah!” you squealed, growing cross-eyed for a second.

right there,

as satoru’s hand still clings onto the opening of your drooping thigh, his tip kisses a direct path near your cervix before that kiss turns into a thrusting smooch.

your mind’s just blank - fog surrounds it, and your voice starts to pitch higher. he’s hitting you there, and satoru hissed at the familiar spongy texture that was trying hard to clamp around him oh-so tight.

the feeling of melting-hot pressure from the very inside of your sopping core makes you let off a cute, ‘oooh’ as he shimmies his hips.

“toru don’t s- stop hittin’ there, please.”

“mng- there she is. found it, didn’t i?” his guttural voice murmurs.

panting harshly—satoru snakes a free arm around your waist, and he gently presses his palm against your belly.

sliding up up up, he adds just a wee bit more pressure to near the exact area he’s reaching inside of you.

his cock’s stupidly long, and it’s continuously locating all the right spots before your mind tirelessly shot blanks. as his dampened fingertips warily graze circles around your heaving tummy, he brings his glimmering lips up to the searing lobe of your ear.

“here, princess?” satoru huffs darkly, his breathing almost animalistic as he lifts your leg even higher.

as you’re sideways, you felt multiple inches of his cock steadily continue to bruise your cervix with a plethora of heart-felt, mean tip-kisses.

your eyes were bulging, lashes batting, mouth dangling wide open. “this is- hah- where you’re weak riiiight? this.. fuckin’ .. spot where ‘m hitting, oh fuckk-” he pauses, his nose wrinkling from the immense sliding stimulation.

“y- yes, there- fuck! ‘toruuu-”

it’s just soooo slick inside you, and satoru’s groaning all up against your ear.

“dirty girl. mngh- pussy can’t.. help but talk back. god, jus’ listen to her, she’s even singing for me ‘n everything. wettest lyrics of a song i’ve ever.. hah- heard,” and as if on cue, the sloshing sounds slosh even louder after each overzealous jam of satoru’s pivoting hips.

you’re stammering on your own words, choking on every shrilling whine and whimper that dared to tug away from your worn-out voice.

satoru’s dick knew each pressure point to hit too.

every. single. one.

after all, if it was anyone who knew your body - it was him.

that included bedaubing his crowned tip near erogenous places. satoru’s easing his way in and out, making not only your heart flutter but your insides too..

it’s one wet whack of skin against each other after another, and all you could do was clamp around his cock and take it like the good girl you were.

with your tummy heaving consistently, it’s doing nothing but sending a horde of nerves all through the axons and nerves that run through your body.

it’s sending staticky signals that are more than enough to make your brain lose a few circuits.

satoru’s berserk-like thrusts were at damn near lightning speed, and he was snickering at each whine that flew past your trembly-glossed lips.

“ ‘toruuuu,” you’d drag out his name, moaning once you felt a few of his thin fingers wisp down your back that’s starting to perspire with tears of sweat.

he’s stretchy, molding the inside of your cunt with each pump of his stiffening cock that’s drilling into your very core.

panting like a greyhound, you’re stunned for a second once satoru lets off a rough groan against the shell of your ear.

his mushroomy tip faultlessly smashed its way against and into your flittering cervix that felt almost heart-shaped—zigzagging its way down before smashing against that pulsating spot again.

he feels it and you feel it too.

“ngh- ‘m gonna cum again,” you’d mewl out, feeling the sliminess of both sweaty bodies slick against each other in raw harmony.

his ramming hips naturally arched into yours, deepening the steep angle even more before hearing you squawk out a tiny warning sob. “cum- ‘m gonna cum, sato—mmngh!”

as satoru’s still holding you from your side, you’re hit with a multitude of elated emotions. you’re clamping down on him tightly, feeling your legs grow limp within seconds.

sloppily, your pussy squeaking wetly between your open thighs as you cream all down his shaft, creating nothing more than a miry, slippery mess..

your cheek presses against the middle part of your pillow as you’re spasming underneath him, whining out the same ragged, incoherent babbles.

“satoru, s- satoru,” you’d coo out, hearing his huffing puffs of air from behind you.

satoru slows himself down, wrapping soft arms around your torso as you ride out your orgasm.

with your hips still feebly stuttering back against him—it left the sweetest taste in your mouth.

all over, you felt overly sensitive - and satoru could feel your body succumbing in pleasure and defeat within his firm hold.

he held you close, brushing a thumb around your navel before whispering murmurs of, ‘there we go’ ‘s or, ‘i gotcha,’ ‘s.

“fuck, such a good sloppy girl,” he flips you over, still entirely buried inside of your clenching cunt. satoru brings his quivering lips toward yours, giving you kisses before speaking in between rushed, humid smacks. “hah- you okay, princess?”

“mhm.” you nod, crawling your way on top of him. satoru has a sheepish grin, and he does a quick peer down at your body.

damn.

the first thought that would always pop into his mind whenever his eyes landed on you—his wife’s perfect body.

they’d trail down down down, stopping at your plush thighs before darting right back up towards your face. his thumbs gently caressed near the familiar marks that creased faintly against your thighs before he sneaks a kiss near your relaxing jaw.

“heh- think the missus is gettin’ a bit cocky today, no?” satoru jibes a toothy smile once he watches you straddle him, bringing an open palm to the left cheek of your ass, grabbing a bit of skin.

you nearly slipped off a sultry-sounding moan at his sudden touch but cutely grumbled, making him lie back with a flick of your finger before attacking the crook of his neck with wet kisses.

“oh.. my, aren’t you a frisky one today.”

“shut up, ‘toru.”

“hmph. you’re kinda mean when you’re horny, princess.. sexy.”

☆ ☆ ☆

it’s probably been hours - satoru’s had you in any and every position possible, showering every part of your body with its favorite combination of kisses ‘n compliments.

he just couldn’t help it.

especially when you just looked so effortlessly pretty like that underneath him.

currently, he had you in a mating press and oh-

as he’s on top of you—satoru gets lost in your lust-filled gaze. your eyes, they were like some sort of maze he could never find the exit from.

he’s much slower with his rhythm this time, cupping two palms underneath your thighs as he’s gradually feeding your cunt stroke after stroke. both pounds of skin ricocheted against each other, noisily papping as the clashing of grinding bodies continued.

your cunt’s just drooling, leaking with endless amounts of buttery clods of his sticky, hot cum. it dribbles out of your gummed slit, creating a frothy white ring around his base as his hips continue to wedge into your sopping wet pussy.

“ ‘toru- oh, satoru—ooh!” you’d squeal out, digging the edges of nails into his bare shoulder.

satoru’s grunting lowly against your neck, using a hand to bring both knees up to your chest. “haah- c’mon, princess. ‘m still not done fillin’ ya yet, gotta get this tummy nice ‘n plump,” and as his kiss-bitten lips hover against yours, he’s pouting.

satoru squeezes one of your tits before huffing. “these too. n- need to see ‘em full again, so fuckin’ full.”

satoru’s competing pitchy moans with you, each sound laced with nothing but lust and utter carnal desire.

from the inside, you had a sticky grip on him that had him utterly whipped.

satoru’s crimsoned tip spiraled its way around your cunt before sloppily thrashing its way against the convulsing nub of your pulsating clit.

leisurely, it batters its way toward that spot repeatedly until you’re just short-circuiting on his cock once again. “hngh- satoru, ohmygoddd,” you’d hysterically sob out, feeling his big hand cup underneath your chin.

your chin’s slick, and you were messily salivating a bit as he continued. moments later—satoru slips his middle finger inside of your mouth and you moaned, sucking it without a single given thought. “m- mhm.”

“good girl,” he groans, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as his rickety pace picked up its quickening speed.

satoru’s hips were just downright rude, and he was just trying to savor each clasping clap of skin that he possibly could.

you looked so pretty with half-lidded eyes and webby clear strings of your saliva damply cascading down the sides of your lips.

“ ‘m gonna cum, sweetheart. you’re gonna . . hah- make me fuckin’ cuuum-” and you could hear solely from the tone of his voice, it was turning shaky.

each gasping syllable - it’s struggling desperately to hang on, faltering at each delivery of the next word that spills from his sleek lips.

“mng-” your moan, and satoru hummed before snatching his digit back from between your lips. he leans in to kiss you, delving his hot tongue straight into your mouth.

he’s hungry, demanding access as the tip of the pink muscle circles its way around the inside of your mouth.

it brushes against your flat tongue before his teeth greet your lips once more—giving it a needy ‘let me in’ gnaw. you part your lips so he could have more access, and satoru moans into your mouth.

“satoru, ‘m gonna cum too-” you breathlessly admit, briefly seeing splotches of white once your eyes mindlessly roll back on their own.

he’s so biiiig, stretching you to the very fullest ‘till the very end.

as your legs sporadically shook, you’re letting off sweet hurried gasps once you felt his cock expanding through your guts yet again.

you’re feeling butterflies scatter inside you everywhere, and not once did that familiar pool of heat sensation subside.

instead, it grows stronger and hotter, and you’re mentally fanning yourself as his engorged tip surprises your cervix for the umpteenth time.

it's constant - it happens more than once and it always always always feels like the first fuckin’ time.

his cock’s still leaking from his recent non-stop releases, and blood’s starting to rush to satoru’s head.

raucous, fast-paced breaths wafted against both opened mouths as satoru’s cock attentively drills into your inviting cunt at a more weakened speed.

he’s literally drowning in your pussy, your slick wetness his ultimate weakness.

as weak arms wrap around his neck, you brush a thumb down his undercut — earning a soft whiny, “h.. hey,” snatch from his lips.

satoru’s body was damn near smushed over yours nearly crushed you with his soft squishing weight.

still, though, he’s making sure to hover to where he wasn’t crushing you fully - having his rounded tummy grinding back ‘n forth against your body. as his body rubs its way onto yours after each stroke, you felt satoru’s noticeable happy trail tickle against the outer entrance of your cunt.

“ugh-” satoru sucks in a delayed breath, pressing his forehead against yours.

weakly, his knees began to fatally buckle as his nearly-drained cock’s still pushing its way through your squeezing pussy.

the build up of it all was just utterly blissful.

satoru’s shallow breath gets taken away from him like that, and he could feel himself going limp the microsecond his dick’s starting to spray inside you. “oh fuck, oh f- fuuuck.”

he grumbles, delicately sinking his teeth into your neck. he’s swallowing hard, losing all sorts of composure as his limbs start to quit functioning as if it was some sort of machine.

your finish shortly comes after too, but you end up gushing this time - and not just between your legs.

satoru hears your sweet surprised yelps before looking down, noticing your perked nipples were a bit more hardened than usual. they looked swollen - more plump than usual, and shiny.

you’re squirting down his cock, hearing the lewd squelches confirm that very fact as you even leak a bit from the centres of your nipples.

“holy shit-,” satoru blinks, and embarrassment interrupts your high almost right away.

your first instinct was to cover your face, and satoru leans in between the valley of your chest. your orgasm was so powerful that you ended up getting milked out yourself - literally.

cautiously, he slides his tongue around one of your nipples that’s dribbling with treacly dewdrops of white sweetness. it’s not even a lot, but it’s just enough because he purrs against your skin once the creamy taste hits the buds of his tongue.

“mmng-” and as he’s still pumping probably the fifth load into you, your cunt ends up clenching around him - wringing him so damn dry.

satoru’s taking turns sucking both of your plump tits, savoring the taste before his half-open eyes land on you.

he’s sloppy - encircling the tip of his sticky tongue over the ring of each tit before ‘popping’ one nipple after another from his lips.

satoru’s sweating, and he’s panting even more after your cute ‘lil outburst.

a gooey ring of cum bubbles around the thick base of his cock as he’s still stuffed inside you deep, but he wasn’t even thinking about that anymore.

sighing, he rubs the back pad of his thumb against one of your nipples that was still slightly leaking before he laps it right up, staring at you intently the entire time. his cum’s still spilling out, splattering on your tummy with his tip a fiery red.

“mmh, that’s hah- new. didn’t know you were still ah- leaking, princess. i have that much of an effect on you?”

“s.. shut up-” you moaned, your body still trying to get over its recent climax.

between the arc of your chest — you’re covered with sweat too. satoru hums to himself, tending to each breast before gently grabbing your chin.

“ ‘m guessing that’s a sign that you’re havin’ your seasonal baby fever again, yeah?” satoru smugly grins, feeling your body faintly twitching underneath him. “uh oh.”

his tongue against your tender nipples felt so good that it took you a while to generate a response in your brain that was just short-circuited completely.

deadpanning, you let off a grumbling, “obviously, satoru.”

“sorry, sorrrrry!” he huffs, pressing a kiss to your lips. you whimpered against his lips as his thumbs still tickled against each spurting nipple while his tongue curled around the inside of your mouth.

his touch was always soft, leaving you breathless every time.

your cunt’s overflowed with cum though - and even as his lips glued against yours, you could feel the slippery milky masses stream down from your slick, foaming against both pairs of stilled skin.

everything feels so hot - but satoru’s breath colliding against your tongue felt even hotter.

he’s just so enamored by you, and he can’t help but softly reach for your wrist.

“mng- satoru..” you whined against smacking pairs of lips, strings of loose saliva threatening to tear apart slickly.

“shh,” he whispers, breaking away from your lips to grab onto your hand.

he turns it around, bringing it toward his lips before pressing a single wet kiss against the back of your index finger.

there - your wedding ring beamed bright, brighter than any gem as his lips stamped against the tiny individual diamonds that made up the pricey rock.

you felt your heart flutter, watching silently as he starts to kiss your wedding ring again, again, and again, and again. .

“hah- that’s how many more babies we’re gonna make.”

one … two … three … f-

as you were trying to count in your head, satoru cheekily hummed before cocking his head. “heh, better get started.” and you moaned for a final time, hearing his cock wetly slide its way from your cum-filled cunt.

filthily, such creamed amounts ooze out of you and he hears the pretty sloshes commence not even seconds later. satoru then presses his silver wedding ring against your bare stomach before giving you one final kiss.

glancing up at you teasingly, satoru smacks the swollen crown head of his cock against your folds.

“now.. c’mon, mama gojo. upsie hah- daisy,” satoru throatily grunts, pushing your knees right back up to their initial position.

he just wanted to kiss the cute pout off your lips.

your thighs still shook—and satoru huffs heavily, bringing one hand to squeeze your breast, another easing his fat crowned tip inside of your sobbing pussy.

“let those legs stretch for me one more time. attaaaa girl. tha’s my girl-”

and as gojo leans in to press a soft kiss against your tummy, he hums.

“heh- we’ve got a loooot of mini gojos to make, mommy.”

[the-ferocious-kittyrose]

Simon gets a message from reader while he’s on base. It’s a video. The thumbnail looks like a blurred image of a store isle

Once he has a moment to himself, he’s able to sit back and finally check out what you had sent.

The camera pans down to show yours and simon’s two year old daughter. She has half a mini chocolate muffin clutched in her little baby fist and chocolate smudges on her nose and bright pink cheeks. She’s standing, staring at something out of frame.

The camera is a bit shaky and Simon can hear you trying desperately to hide your laughter.

“Baby,” you say, “baby, look at me.” You bend down to bring the camera closer to your daughter, who only turns to look at you for a second before going back to staring at the same spot out of frame.

“Who is that?”

Your daughter raised one of her chocolate covered hands to point towards whatever it was that had been captivating her the entire video. “Daddy.”

Simon here’s more of your pained stifled laughter and the camera follows your daughter’s gaze, revealing a cheaply made Halloween grim reaper statue, with dusty purple robes, a plastic scythe, and a hilariously misshapen skull face.

He reads the accompanying texts that had followed the video.

[She just started saying “daddy daddy” over and over and it took me forever to figure out what she was talking about]

[for a second I thought, “oh is he here?”]

[Im so dense lol]

[she really misses you ]

[I miss you too]

The next text was a picture of your daughter fast asleep in her car seat. Now cleaned of chocolate, she had replaced her muffin with a giant plastic rat that she hugged to her chest like a teddy bear.

[she refused to leave without it]

Simon smiles. It had been a long time since he had a family. People who loved waiting for him to come home.

Your texts had been sent hours ago, and he felt bad about not responding all day.

[that’s unfair. My mask is made of much better materials]

[I miss you both too. If everything goes right I should be home by Monday]

[and don’t call yourself dense]

Simon thinks for a moment, something eating at him about that video

[I wish she didn’t know about the mask. I don’t want her to see me that way]

You respond quickly, making Simon feel worse about his delayed reply

[Dont worry about that honey. She’s only two, and I think she only saw you wear in mask once once or twice. She’ll forget in a month.]

[She doesn’t see you as anything other than her daddy]

[her daddy and her jungle gym]

[lol yes that too]

[Im sorry I don’t have a lot of time. I’ll try and call you tomorrow]

[ok Im heading to bed now anyway]

[goodnight I love you ❤️]

[goodnight I love you too ❤️]

[rafesangelita]

♡ just dilf!rafe making sure everything is to his liking when his precious little bunny comes home from all of her beauty appointments!

warnings: fluff, bunny being a lil clingy, suggestive language, use of the nickname ‘daddy’ (pls scroll if it’s not for you), heavy petting, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), praise, finger sucking, slight overstimulation

a/n: i recently got all of my beauty appointments done so this felt fitting lol. read more of dilf!rafe x bunny!reader here <3

wc: 1.4k

while rafe never let you step out of the house by yourself, there was very few instances when he did. going out with your girlfriends and paying for all of your appointments was one of those things, and he didn’t mind in the slightest. the day would start very early in the morning so that you’d have enough time to get everything done. rafe would watch you from the front door as you basically hopped down the driveway in excitement before getting into your best friend’s obnoxiously pink car, your lip gloss still sparkling on his lips from when you kissed him before leaving.

maybe it was the father instinct inside of him, but rafe made it a point to always pay for you and your besties meals, the idea of you going hungry or having an empty stomach just not sitting right with him. you and your friends would start the day by knocking out whatever took the longest, so that all of you could breeze through the extra upkeep and still go shopping afterwards. despite rafe tracking your location and checking where you were at religiously, he still wanted you to text him and send him photos and updates throughout the day.

he’d smile down at his phone whenever your contact name, which you came up with by yourself, would pop up on his screen.

[1:15 PM] bunnie ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡: i miss you sooo much already daddy. thank you for the food it was yummy <3 me and the girls still have a handful of things to do but i’m hoping to be done soon!!

[2:57 PM] bunnie ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡: i think you’re going to reallyyy like the color of my nails!! my toes came out super cute too 🎀

[4:03 PM] bunnie ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡: (1 attached image) look at this pink flatiron at the salon! i need one just like this! pretty pleaseeee!

he’d reply to each message, even going ahead and buying that flatiron with overnight delivery so you could have it in your pretty hands in no time. you two would go on like this until you’d finally send him that ‘on my way!’ text, a relieved sigh falling from his lips. as much as he liked for you to have your girl time, he selfishly wanted to have you all to himself more than anything. rafe had already been anticipating your arrival, your favorite candles already lit up upstairs in his bedroom. it wasn’t long before he heard the faint bump of music outside, your playful yelp sounding from down the driveway as you struggled to carry all of your shopping bags.

rafe was quick to help you out, your best friends teasingly telling him hi as he briefly waved at them before guiding you inside. “oh, i missed you!” you didn’t waste any time in throwing your arms around his neck, the scent of sweet vanilla filling up his senses. you clung to him like a koala, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he made his way upstairs. “yeah? i missed you more.” you breathed him in, smiling softly against his chest as he put your bags down on the chair he had in the corner. “everything go good?” he took a seat at the edge of the bed, resting his hands on the soft globes of your ass.

“mhmm!” you nodded, “i’m happy with how everything came out.” rafe pecked your lips before helping you up on your feet. “let me get a good look at you.” standing up, you couldn’t help but feel shy as he scanned over your figure agonizingly slow. “your hair looks real nice, baby, that style suits you.” your cheeks heated at the simple compliment. “wow look at your lashes, ‘you try out a different lash map?” you gasped softly, hitting his shoulder playfully. “look at you using girly terms!” rafe was bound to learn about the stuff you’d be rambling on and on about, your lashes being one of many things he now knew the intricacies of.

“your eyebrow lady did a real good job, too.” you wiggled your brows suggestively, fluttering your lashes at him while he took your hand in his. “you were right, i absolutely love this color on you,” he took in the pinky nude of your manicure, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, “let me see those toes.” you giggled, bringing your foot to his lap as you held onto his arms for leverage. “wow, you got a bow charm?” you smiled down at the sight, “yes! isn’t it so cute? she even put on some rhinestones for free because i’m a regular!” rafe massaged the back of your calf, guiding you back down on the bed.

“damn, bunny, and your skin is so soft, you got that full body wax?” you welcomed him between your thighs, running your freshly manicured nail down the side of his jaw. “yes, i know how much you like it..” he kissed you deeply, his lower half grinding down on where you needed him most. you couldn’t help the whine from leaving your lips, your glazed orbs shining with something mischievous. “do you want to see how that came out, too?” rafe smiled, his fingers already hooking between your skirt and the waistband of your panties. “yeah? you gonna let daddy inspect you?”

once your clothes were off and forgotten about on the floor, rafe took your thighs and spread them open to expose your bare cunt, the look on his face making you take your bottom lip between your teeth. “fuck,” he marveled, “you’re just so pretty, you know that?” you smiled, melting under his gentle touch. he looked up at you as if to ask ‘can i?’ before you nodded. rafe sat back on his heels, stroking your glistening folds as you writhed with desire. “i need to be inside of you so bad..” oh, how bad you needed that too. “rafe, we can’t have sex for at least a full twenty-four hours.” you pouted.

“but we did it last time.” you giggled, shaking your head. “i know, but i’m so sensitive..” rafe sighed, leaning down so he could whisper against your lips. “would a little touching hurt, though?” you gasped when he slipped a digit inside your entrance, his long digit filling you just right. with the pad of his thumb, he began rubbing hard circles on your clit, your eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “you’re so perfect, always dressing and getting dolled up the way i want you to.” he curled his finger, nudging that soft spot inside of you that made you see stars.

your back arched softly off of the bed, your fingers intertwining with his own. he kept his eyes on your trembling form, your mouth falling open as moans and whimpers fell from your lips. “i’m so close, ray..” the man above you lowered his head between your thighs, popping his digits into your mouth so you could taste yourself on his fingers. “so soft and smooth, i could eat this cunt for days.” you cried out loud when you felt his tongue prod at your opening, the tip of his nose finding your sensitive bud. “fuckkk!” you covered your mouth at the slip up, yelping when you felt rafe pinch your inner thigh.

“what have i told you about cussing?” he groaned, pulling away from your soaked pussy before diving back in again, your hands shooting up to cup your tits. rafe watched your face carefully, the rise and fall of your chest being a telltale sign that you were going to finish soon. you felt the familar heat begin to simmer in your tummy, your thighs threatening to snap shut as the coil in your stomach got tighter and tighter with every stroke of rafe’s tongue. “oh, my god!” your eyes rolled back when the band in your tummy finally snapped, your orgasm hitting you in waves of pure bliss.

your breath shook as you thrashed against rafe’s mouth, your thighs locking around his head as he pinned you down by your hips. your mouth opened but no sound, except for a pathetic shriek came out, your hands fighting rafe off in an attempt to pull away from him. that only made him grip you tighter, his tongue working relentlessly on your poor cunt. it wasn’t until you tapped out, your nails digging into rafe’s arm before he gave you a final kiss, his gentle hands massaging into the skin of your calves. you whimpered as rafe helped you come down from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your vision hazy.

rafe licked his lips clean, palming at the hard-on in his boxers. “how about just the tip?” all it took was one blissful glance at him through your lashes before he was yanking you towards the edge of his bed by your ankles.

[nanaslutt]

• I will always catch you •

ʚ synopsis: You and Nanami play a game of tag, if he wins he spanks you

ʚ cont: fem reader, spanking, fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation

You stood with your hands perched on the back of the couch, your eyes not once straying from where they were glued to Nanami's opposite the couch from you, the only thing that separated the two of you besides the coffee table that sat in front of the couch. "Ten second headstart." You said, already feeling your heart start to pick up at the promise of Nanami chasing you around. 

You knew logically no matter how much time you asked for, he would always catch you in the end, but that's what you wanted, not that you would tell him that—even if he already knew. Nanami nodded, removing his hands from his pockets confidently, his mouth barely quirking up in a smile at the corners, the skin beside his mouth dimpling with it. "You won't catch me this time." Lie. "We'll see." Was his only reply before he raised his hands and started ticking down his fingers, letting you know he had started the timer.

You ran around the couch, passing him where he stood on the other side as you ran for the kitchen across the room, using the large island in the middle of it to separate him from you. It was your best bet to escape him for as long as possible, wait him out here, bait him to stalk you around the island, and shoot up the stairs for his office which had the only locking door in the house save for the bathroom, but that was too close to the kitchen, you needed more time to get away. 

You watched, eyes bright and heart racing as his fingers hit 1, then he closed his hand tightly, letting you know you were out of time before he started walking toward you calmly. Your smile grew larger the closer he got, as did his, though he was far more cocky and confident than yours which was playful and full of adrenaline. "Aren't you going to run, sweetheart?" Nanami asked, cocking his head to the side as he made his way to the kitchen, standing across the island from you.

"I told you I learned some new tricks, you won't catch me this time." You said confidently, moving slowly toward the corner of the island, trying to bait Nanami into following you. And sure enough, he did. He didn't reply to you, just started walking towards the side in which you were closest to him, making you walk away from him, the two of you slowly circling the kitchen island as you made your way back to the opening of the living room.

You knew not to avert your eyes to his and give away your plans, if he caught you looking towards the direction you were going to run, he would catch you—no doubt about it. Nanami was taller and faster, his long legs eating up the space between you like nothing whenever you ran from him, so you had to be smart about this. "We'll see if your tricks are enough." Nanami finally voiced, stopping in his tracks diagonal to you, him standing where you just were in the kitchen, your positions now reversed. 

You smiled at him in response, showing your teeth before you turned abruptly and took off sprinting across the living room. Your heart raced in your chest, the sound echoing through your whole body and making that the only thing you were able to hear. You wanted to turn around so bad and see how close he was, but you knew you couldn't afford to do so. You let out a laugh as you reached the banister on the stairs, gripping it tightly as you pulled yourself forward, using that momentum to run up them as quickly as you could. 

You tried not to think about how Nanami often went up the steps two at a time, so if he was running he could probably manage three or more... shit. Your adrenaline was still pumping, making you more assured of yourself as you reached the top of the stairs, sure he wasn't right on your tail. His office was in your sight already as you pushed off the wall and sprinted toward the end of the hall. You were mentally praising Nanami for his constant pushing to leave all doors in the house open unless they were being occupied so the air could flow freely between them, making it so none of the rooms were stuffy—meaning the door was wide open and all you had to do was grab that door and slam it like your life depended on it. 

You could only feel your own steps as you raced down the hall, surprised that he hadn't reached the top of the stairs yet, but that meant you had one, you finally had one. You reached the office and grabbed the handle before spinning yourself around and momentarily disorienting yourself before you were snatched into a pair of strong arms and hoisted over a shoulder with a scream of surprise. You felt like your heart was going to leap out of your chest and run away at the shock.

How had he got you so fast? You were sure he wasn't on your trail, but apparently, that had been wishful thinking. "Nanami!" You laughed, kicking your legs against him, trying to free yourself as he held you over his shoulder with an iron grip, his arm locked tightly around the back of your thighs so you couldn't wiggle out of his grasp. Your laugh was cut short when a harsh smack was left on your ass, the sting making you whip your hands back and cover yourself from him. 

Nanami swiftly kicked the door shut behind him and stalked over to his desk, wrenching your hands away from your ass easily in his grip. "This is my reward for catching you, hands down." He said calmly, the deep baritone of his voice making you shiver as he pulled you off his shoulder and spun you away from him, using his body to press you against the edge of his desk and pushing you down on it with his hand on the middle of your back.

You weren't able to resist his moves, the speed of his actions making your body more pliant than you would've liked. The papers on his desk crumpled under your chest as you tried to push yourself up so you could stand again, and maybe try to attempt to run away, though you never had been successful at that before. Kento grabbed your wrists with both his hands and locked them behind your back with strength only he could possess, freeing himself a hand as he kept you at his mercy, rubbing his free hand against the swell of your ass.

"The new trick you tried didn't work so well." Nanami cooed, stating the obvious and making your face feel hot as he rubbed your loss in your face. "Were you planning to lock yourself in my office?" He asked, sliding his hand up and down the side of your body, making your skin prickle under your shirt. "Yeah, I was close too." You said defiantly, trying to gain back even a little bit of your ego. You had been so sure of yourself and now look at the position you ended up in.

"Mmm," Nanami hummed, the deep sound of it in his throat making your legs part willingly for him as he pressed his knee against the inside of your thigh and made you spread them. "What were you planning to do once you were in here?" He asked, making you pause. You looked around his office, thinking on his words. I don't know, relish in your victory? Bait him through the door? Write taunting notes about how he's a loser and slide them under the door for him to read?

"What do you think would happen when you opened the door? You couldn't stay in here forever." He asked confidently. "I'd come out because I would have won." You said quickly, the answer obvious, "There is no time limit on the game." He said, his fingers pushing up the back of your shirt and sliding against the skin of your back, pushing the fabric against your arms that were locked behind your back. The gears in your head started turning as you considered his words. 

"What do you mean?" You asked, turning your head as far to the side as you could manage to look at him from under your lashes. "I will always catch you, you can't escape me." You opened your mouth to complain, to whine about how the game has been rigged from the start, how there was no way you could ever win, when a loud slap against your ass stopped your words from coming, a different sound escaping you. Your hands balled into fists as you wiggled back against him, trying to find relief against the sting that never came. 

"That's not fair." You pouted. Nanami huffed out a laugh before his large hand rubbed across your backside, his fingers finding the hem of your shorts before pulling them down to pool around your ankles. "No, it's not." He agreed, another harsh smack making contact with your skin, making you jump. Nanami's warm hand stayed against your flesh rubbingaway the pain as he pressed closer to you, his crotch pressed against your left thigh. "But you don't mind as much as you're trying to make me think you do." He said assuredly. 

You felt a tick of annoyance run through you before it was almost completely snuffed out by another slap of his hand, this one followed by two more in quick succession against your other cheek. "Why would you think that?" You sighed, trying not to pant through your words and give in to him as much as you wanted to. "This whole game has been rigged the whole time." You complained, your eyebrows shooting up when he pressed his knee against your clothed cunt, making you press try to press your legs together--an action that was stopped by his knee that was knocked into your own, keeping you spread. 

Nanami gripped your ass in his hand before leaning over you, massaging the fat of your backside as his weight crushed you, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. He rut his hips against your thigh, letting you know how much he was enjoying his win before he pressed a kiss right under your ear. You shut your eyes, a gasp falling from your lips as all complaints left your brain, the only thing you could think of being the weight and scent of him as he consumed you entirely. 

"You like it when I chase you, but you like it when I catch you even more." He whispered against your ear, his voice making you clench around nothing. "You're so cocky." You breathed, making him breathe out a laugh before he placed a kiss on your neck, the top of your spine, your shoulder blade. You held your breath when his hand that gripped your flesh slid between your legs, your body welcoming him as you spread your legs wider for him.

You couldn't stop the gasp that fell from between your lips when he pushed aside your panties like they were never there and rubbed his fingers through your wetness before dragging them across your clit. "And you're soaked, sweetheart," Nanami replied, showing you just how right he was about how much you loved being caught by him. But you didn't need him to tell you that, you already knew. 

Nanami leaned back from crushing you with his body at the same time he slid his fingers back down to your entrance and pushed two thick fingers inside you like it was nothing—and it might've well been, his fingers getting swallowed up by your wet cunt with ease. The groan that left your lips made his cock twitch in response, the feeling of his hard length against the back of your thigh driving you crazy. 

He released your arms from being caged behind your back, which you immediately used to grab the edge of the desk to steady yourself. Just when you were about to beg him for more, he slapped you again, harder this time, your ass stinging at the impact while your pussy tightened around his fingers like a vice. Nanami echoed your moan with a groan of his own as he began thrusting his fingers in and out of you, the wet squelching of your cunt echoing throughout his office.

"I can feel how much you like it." Nanami groaned, his voice deeper and more assertive with his arousal prominent. "Fuck," You whined, wiggling your hips back to meet his thrusts." Smack, another slap making you whine, a fuzziness starting to build in your mind as he fucked you harder on his fingers. "Tell me how much you like it, honey." Nanami moaned, though it sounded more like a beg as he rubbed his hips harder against your ass, trying to relieve himself on you. 

"Kento," You whined, thrusting your hips back against him harder. A clinking of a belt and a zipper following the sound told you Nanami was ridding himself of his own pants. Another slap against your sore ass was all the motivation you needed to answer him, nodding against the desk. "I love it Ken, I love it, it feels so good." You whined, your clit throbbing at the lack of attention as you wiggled back, hoping he would relieve you soon. 

You cried out when he pulled his fingers out of you abruptly, "Shhh, don't cry-" His words ended as he slammed himself inside you in one thrust, the stretch and slight burn of the sheer size of him making your eyes roll back in your head as he started up a brutal pace inside you, giving you little time to adjust before his hand dropped to your clit just as you wanted while his other massaged your soon to be bruised ass. 

Without his knee between yours anymore, you were able to squeeze your thighs together around his hand as your orgasm wracked through your body, making you scream as he pounded it out of you, his cock hitting just the right spot inside your soft walls and prolonging your high as his expert fingers matched pace with his thrusts on your clit. "K-kento-" You whined, one of your hands wrapping around his wrist that kept rubbing your oversensitized clit, the pleasure of it bordering on pain. 

"I know, I know, honey." Nanami cooed, his voice soft but his actions a stark contrast as he slapped your ass twice, once on each cheek, never once faltering his rough thrusts inside you, "You have to let go, sweetheart. Let go of my hand." He instructed, making you shake your head back and forth violently, only resulting in his fingers rubbing faster back and forth along your clit, it was almost too much.

"T-too much, Kento- f-fuck-" You cried, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you tried to lean forward to escape the pleasure, but he just followed you with his thrusts, knocking hard into your g-spot each time he slammed inside you. "No, it's not, Iknow what you can take." He replied dismissively, massaging your ass in a circle. The two of you had a safeword that had been long established and never used, and you weren't thinking about using it now, so maybe he was right, maybe he did know how much you could take.

You simply whined in response, feeling another orgasm quickly creeping over you, no escape from it in sight. "Let go of my hand, sweetheart, I won't ask again," Nanami said through a groan, his hand briefly coming up to cradle your cheek in a sweet gesture before he slid it back down your body and slapped the back of your thigh. The niceness of his words and the roughness of his actions made it hard to combine them into one person, you almost wanted to curse him out for sounding so unaffected but you knew he wasn't fairing much better than you.

The small sounds of him grunting and cursing under his breath told you exactly how he was doing. Kento's thrusts started losing their rhythm as he lost himself inside you. Begrudgingly, you let go of his hand, your own shaking as you placed it back on the edge of the dest, your knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping it. "Good girl, I have you, I-I'll take care of you." The sound of Nanami's words getting choked off by a groan made your clit throb under his fingers. It was a fucking headrush knowing how much this man lost himself to you. 

"Please-" You begged, unsure of what you were asking for but knowing you weren't going to last much longer. "Let it out, I'm right behind you." Nanami nodded, leaning over your body and wrapping an arm under your stomach, pulling your back tightly to his chest as he humped his cock in and out of you, the stretch and loss of him with each thrust making you go a little dumb in the head each time. 

"Cum-" You weren't even able to finish your sentence as you came with a cry at the same time Nanami placed his lips on your cheek and kissed softly, trailing those kisses over your shoulder and neck as his fingers and cock worked in perfect harmony to draw your orgasm out of you. "Coming, I'm coming- oh my god-" Kento groaned through his teeth, his hair tickling your face as he buried his head in your neck and ground his hips flush against yours. 

The circular movement of Kento's hips against your ass made your legs shake with sensitivity as his fat tip rubbed against your g-spot as he emptied his balls inside you. A warmth filled you from the inside out with each kick of his cock as he came, rope after rope of his seed filling you just like he did every time he fucked you. A loud, low, continuous groan left his throat as his balls throbbed with his release, his fingers finally ceasing their rubbing against your clit as he went still, basking in his orgasm while keeping himself inside you. 

You reached a shaky, weak amr behind you and grabbed the back of his neck, gently scraping your nails up along his neck and trimmed undercut of his hair. Nanami hummed in satisfaction before he lifted his head and found your lips with ease, kissing you gently and lovingly, like the two of you had all the time in the world and nothing would ever separate the two of you. 

He pulled away and looked at you, a content expression on his face. He leaned in to press one more kiss against your eyelid before he pulled back entirely, smoothing his hands down your sides as he pulled out of you, making the both of you moan at the missing contact of the other. You already wanted to whine about how empty you felt, but you knew you could have him whenever you wanted so that feeling didn't last long.

"My ass hurts." You complained, breaking the silence as you were now finally able to feel the full extent of his actions without a clouded mind. Kento laughed as he pulled your panties back in their rightful place, keeping his cum stuffed inside you as he patted his fingers over your cunt before dropping down and sliding your shorts up your legs. "I'm sorry, my love. I'll take responsibility." He said, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

"You gonna massage my ass all night?" You asked, pushing your body up and leaning against the back of the desk, not yet ready to fully rely on your shaky legs yet. "Of course, I was the one who bruised it after all." Kento nodded as he buckled his belt back into place before stalking forward and caging you in with his body. You wrapped your arms around his neck like you've done a thousand times and let him lean in to kiss your neck, his hands wrapping around your waist to help you stand.

"Good." You said, relishing in his kisses before speaking up again, grabbing ahold of his face and pulling him back so you could look at him properly before you asked your question. "Was the game really rigged this whole time or were you just saying all that to be sexy?" Nanami smiled at that, his own hands grabbing your cheeks as he placed a kiss to the top of your head, to lessen the blow of his inevitable answer you knew was coming. " You know it is, I will always catch you." 

[sturnlsstuff]

MISSED YOU | chris sturniolo

| ".... god, i hate that i missed you so much"

pairing: dealer!chris x fem!reader

summary: your dealer has been out of town for almost two weeks and after he's finally back, he texts you needing to see you.

warnings; smut, dom!chris, sub!reader, p in v, pet names, praising, unprotected sex, dirty talking, hair pulling, rough sex, car sex, crying, public¿ sex, cursing, mdni

a/n: literally my first fanfic after a looong time so please bear with me, if its bad... you know why. english isnt my first language so sorry for any mistakes! also its a little long 😭 part two here !!

~~~

she laughed at some joke her friend made and took another bite of her pizza. it was late friday afternoon, she and her bestfriends were hanging out, since there was nothing else to do. everything was great, until her phone buzzed. she looks at her screen, immediately smiling when she sees his name. she wasn't even aware that her lips had curved into a smile.

her friends were too busy with their own conversation, so she uses her moment and grabs her phone, reading the message from chris. she hasn't heard from him in over two weeks, she had no clue what he was doing, or where he was. she also didn't want to ask, hating the feeling of being too desperate. and it's not like he owns her any explanation either.

chris: u busy?

she bites her lip, fighting the urge to smile again as she replies back.

y/n: hi to you too

y/n: yeah im out with friends, whats up

chris: having fun?

chris: when u gonna be home ma?

y/n: like in an hour or so

chris: can u hurry up? c'mon kid i miss ya

y/n: you do???

she can't help but genuinely grins this time, her eyes widen a little. did he miss her? or was he just saying that to make her give in? he always knew how to talk to her, to make her going feral over him. but she wanted to believe he means it this time.

chris: hell yeah i do

chris: get ur ass out here

she looks at her friends, that were still yapping about something, that she couldn't care less about right now. she needed to see him. he never said he missed her before.

y/n: then come pick me up, im sending u the address

chris: omw gorgeous

chris is already in his car, when she sends him the address. not being able to see her for over two weeks, made him think. A lot. he has been her drug dealer for over a year now, there was tension between them since the beginning, so it didnt take them long to finally fuck at some party a few months ago. and since then, it's happening every now and then, usually they meet to smoke together, then they end up all over each other.

after a few minutes, he parks the car in front of the pizzeria, finally seeing her. she made a stupid excuse for her friends to leave, not being able to hide her excitement, so they just could assume what was going on.

chris gets out of the car, looking her up and down, licking his lips as she was only wearing a black crop top and baggy camo pants. he personally loved those, especially on her.

he opens the door for her, a smirk playing on his lips. "get in."

she tried her hardest to act casual, but just seeing him after a while, in all black outfit, was enough to make her dizzy. and she could swear he got a haircut. his hair was so much shorter, and she loved it.

she smiles, keeping the eye contact while getting inside the car. he closes the door, his eyes roaming all over her body as she walked towards him. he snaps back to reality, getting to the other side and climbing back into the drivers seat. he was feeling so many things that he couldn't express.

"missed me so bad, you couldn't wait an hour, huh?" she speaks up, putting on the seatbelt and looking over at him, while he starts the car.

she notices the way he looks her up and down, his eyes stopping at her exposed skin a little too long.

"i've missed my favorite customer." he smirks, going back to the eye contact.

"yeah, your favorite customer... right." she says sarcastically, trying her hardest to keep her cool and not to blush under his stare.

he grins before replying, focused on keeping his hands on the wheel instead of her body. it was getting harder with every second. "yeah, the one i always gotta give free stuff to."

"oh, dont act like i force you to do this..." she scoffs, still looking at him. "you know i always want to pay you."

"i know y'do... doesn't mean i will stop givin' it to you for free though."

"see, and that's crazy."

chris rolls his eyes, loving and hating at the same time, how she always had to talk back to him. he's driving, planning to go to her house, but the way she's looking right now, and especially her attitude, is making him crazy. he feels his dick getting harder with every second.

"whatever, ma. i know you secretly like it."

"yeah, sure." she mumbles with sarcastic tone, her eyes still watching him. seeing him driving was one of her favorite things in the world, he always looked so good. she appreciates, that he gives her stuff for free or cuts down her prices, but dealing was his job, he was making money out of it, so she always felt bad when he didnt want her cash. "what made you busy for so long? thought the cops caught or some shit"

chris bites his lip, his eyes glancing over to her for a second, before focusing back on the road. he never felt so desperate like right now, just having her in his car like that...

once he hears her question, he snaps back to reality and smiles. "the cops? please, sweetheart, they can suck my dick."

chris changes his direction, spotting an empty parking lot and he drives there. "i was out of town, had to deal with some business... nothin' to worry about now." he explains, parking and turning off his car, and his stare travels to her, scanning her face and body. "you're so curious...."

she nods, now understanding why he wasn't texting her these past two weeks, she was a bit ashamed 'cause she honestly thought maybe he got bored of her, so she didn't text him either. she still got some weed until yesterday, so she also had no reason to.

"why would you stop here?" she asks, looking at him with a little frown, but once she sees his smirk, the realization hits her. the excitement filling her body, the tension between them so noticeable, it makes her shiver.

he stares at her for a moment, adjusting his pants and then suddenly he unbuckles his seatbelt, sitting back in his seat so there was more space now.

"c'mere."

her eyes travels down on his lap, seeing the noticeable big bulge even through his jeans. she blushes slightly, looking back at him, the smirk still playing on his lips and it makes her weak in her knees.

"chris..." he cuts her off by reaching over and grabbing her chin, tilting her face closer to his.

"y'gonna do what i said, or keep talking back?"

she immediately unbuckles her seatbelt, moving over the center console and she gets into his lap, straddling him. she wasn't gonna act like she didn't miss him too, because, goddamn, she did. she presses herself onto his hard dick, watching him closely, and seeing how desperate and frustrated he was right now. It made her feel a little bit of a power, that she decided to take advantage of.

"now, was that so hard, ma?" he smirks even more, trying to hide his growing need for her, but his hands moves to grip onto her thighs. he felt the urge to touch her all over.

"you know, fifteen more minutes and we would be at my place-"

"you really think, i would wait fifteen fucking minutes, when i havent seen you for two weeks, and you look like that?" he loves the way she looks at him, with such admiration. she was so pretty in his eyes, he never felt this type of desperation for anyone ever before.

"and who's fault is that?" his hands grips her tighter and puts her closer in on his lap, making a little bit of friction, that he so desperately needs. his fingers digging into her skin, while he stares into her eyes.

"shut up for once, yeah?"

"make me." she smirks, challenging him. he doesn't have to hear it twice, loving the attitude she's giving him right now. his hand moves up from her thigh to the back of her neck, pulling her face closer and he kisses her roughly, grabbing her ass with his other hand as he does.

she smiles against his lips, immediately kissing him back with the same intensity, and she grinds down against his clothed dick, feeling her own need growing with every second. she missed the way he kissed her, she missed his lips, his hands all over her, his body against hers. she missed him and she hated to admit that.

she slides her tongue into his mouth, he bites her lip in response and lets her lead the kiss. moving up his hips to feel her more and not being able to hold back, he groans against her lips. he never felt so needy before. he pulls away for a moment to speak, and starts trailing kisses down her neck, squeezing her ass, before his hand moves up, caressing the skin on her exposed stomach.

"god, i hate that i missed you so much."

it slips from his mouth, he doesn't think much about it as he sucks on her skin, but for her it meant everything. she tilts back her head, giving him more space and she grinds against his lap some more, running her hand through his brown hair. he lets out a growl as she grinds down on him, making him even harder and he bucks his hips up again. lifting up his head from her neck his stare finds hers, the noticeable lust in his eyes made her bite her lip to hold back a moan. the smirk coming back to his face once he notices her flushed cheeks.

"what 'bout you, huh, ma? missed me too?"

she closes her eyes, their face so close to each other, it makes their lips brush when she replies him back.

"yeah... i did"

he grins, his hands playing with the waistband of her pants. that's all he needed to know, that she missed him as much as he missed her. even though they both were aware, they should'nt.

"how much, hm?" he unzips her pants, she lifts herself up, gripping his shoulders to balance herself and helps him take them off. then she straddles him again, trying to hold back her smile, but not being able to.

"want me to show you?"

he groans after her words, feeling her wet panties pressing against his hard dick and he bucks up his hips again, being so desperate, that he was ready to beg her. he starts marking her neck again, his hand traveling between her legs, massaging her clit through her underwear. her breath hitches in her throat, she lets out a little whine and grips his hair slightly.

"so wet already... shiiiitttt... all this f'me, huh?" he says against her skin, bitting on it slightly and making her moan. he adds more pressure, circling over her clit. "lift this shit up."

his tone demanding, he wasn't asking. she lifts up her top, revealing her breasts. he looks at her now, his eyes going back and forth between her tits, and her face. "fuck... not wearing a bra? fuckin' slut..."

he licks her hard nipple, then starting sucking on it. her hand tightens in his hair, tilting her head back and she lets out more whimpers. she was supposed to be the one in control this time, she craved it and saw how needy he is, but the way he's touching her, makes her losing her mind. he then pulls her panties to the side, running his fingers through her wet folds and suddenly putting one inside her. not even giving her any time, he just starts pumping in and out, adding another finger after a moment, now stretching her out. he pulls away from her nipple, looking at her face.

"c-chris..." she moans quietly, trying her hardest to keep the eye contact, but struggles to do so. her hands now traveling down his chest and unbuckling his belt.

"yeah, ma? y'like that?" he tries to keep his cool, still working his fingers inside her dripping pussy, curling them and making her whine in response. "look at you... so, fuckin' desperate on my lap. missed my fingers, huh? want some more?"

she desperately nods, squeezing around his fingers, but once he feels that, he pulls them out immediately putting them in his mouth to lick them clean. she whines, pouting her lips when he stops.

"show me how much you missed this dick then."

she bites her lip, unzipping his pants and with his help, she pulls them down to his knees, his boxers following after a second. chris leans his head back against the seat, gripping her hips as she gives him a few strokes before pulling her underwear to the side. she runs her thumb over his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it all over his cock, using it as a lubricant and then she lowers herself slowly on his cock, the movement making them both moan out loud with pleasure. she stays like this for a moment, needing to adjust after these past two weeks without him.

"fuckk...so tight...your pussy was made f'me.." he groans, tightening his grip on her hips and he watches her closely, as she finally starts moving on him. he’s holding himself back from moving up his hips and taking over, trying so hard not to thrust into her. he loves the feeling of her body against his and he’s missed it so much. he needed it, he needed her and he hated that. the feeling just kept growing, making the space in the car feel even smaller.

he pulls her back down into another kiss, this time more sloppy, continuing to move his tongue against hers, tasting her. she kisses him back, starting speeding up her pace and now bouncing on him harder. his dick hitting just all the right spots, making her moan loudly while chris tries to focus on the kiss and not to lose his composure. he wanted to take over, he always did, but the feeling of her riding him like that, has him gripping the seat. he grits his teeth, trying to keep himself together and he knows his patience wont last long. he looks up at her again, his eyes glued to her face.

"fuckkkk, ma.... takin' all of me so well... shit..." he hisses, when she speeds up even more. "so good.... s-so good f'me...."

she grips into his shoulders more, moaning loudly at his praises and she continues moving. chris is in complete ecstasy as she picks the pace up, a feeling like he hasn’t experienced before. there's just something about her on top and taking what she wants, that's got him feeling so many things at once.

“fuck.. just like that” one of his hands grab her ass, giving it a squeeze and then slapping it. "fuckin' slut... you like it? fucking in my car? takin' it just like a little bitch.... yeah? shitttt..."

he moans now not being able to hold back, and he starts thrusting into her. she gasps for air, her eyes closing shut as she tightens around him. "oh, wanna cum, huh? not yet darlin'...." he grips her hips more, his tip hitting her g-spot with every move.

"chris i-"

she cuts herself off with another moan, not being able to think straight. she digs her nails into the back of his neck, her head falling down on his shoulder and he immediately stops. her eyes snap open, she lifts up her head to look at him, a smirk playing on his lips.

"you better don't look away f'me, ma.... wanna see your pretty face y'know? and keep makin' those sexy little sounds...got it?"

she nods, but it's not enough from him as he speaks up again. "use your words baby, c'mon... you aint that fucked out of your mind yet, hm?"

"i got it, just... please..." she whines, moving her hips, wanting to bounce on him again, but he stops her. she pouts. "chrissss......"

"get to the backseat." he demands, after scanning her face for a while. he wanted to give her all the pleasure she deserves. he wasn't even thinking about himself, he couldn't care less about his release. he just needed to make her feel good, making sure no one else can do what he can.

she pulls away from him, now moving over the center console again, struggling a bit but she gets into the backseat. chris obviously smacks her ass as she does, what makes her squeak.

"chris!"

but he just smirks, pulling off his pants and boxers all the way down and throwing it on the passenger seat, so it wasn't in the way. he gets on the back himself, there was little space, but enough to get into his favorite position. chris puts his hand on her back, forcing her to get on her knees and hands on the seat, as he positions himself behind her. chris loves the way he can get her all desperate and begging, so he teases her now. he moves his tip along her folds, making her whine. then he slowly puts it in, but after a few seconds he pulls back again.

"chris...." she whines, knowing he's playing with her now.

"yeah, baby?"

she bites her lip, her face pressing into the seat and she lifts up her hips more. "stop teasing me, please...."

he grins even more, slapping her pussy with his dick and then he suddenly pulls his cock all the way in, making her gasp and scream out of pleasure. the new angle let him hit all of her sweet spots.

"whatever you want, princess." he starts thrusting into her with a very intense and fast pace, going as deep as he could. the car now filled up with her moans and the sounds of skin slapping against each other. he grips her hips tight, keeping her in place. he can feel her squeezing around his cock again, and he lets out a growl. "c'mon.... cum all over me...wanna see you while y'do..."

chris moves one of his hands, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, having a good view on her face. her mouth wide open, letting out loud moans, her eyes rolling back.

"oh my god!" she cries out, gripping the edge of the seat like her life depended on it and she releases, the wet, squelching sound coming from her now louder. he groans, kissing her neck and whispering into her ear.

"you feel so good... cummin' like that f'me... such a good girl.."

she moans, squeezing around him again, the overstimulation now making her shiver as he keeps going with the crazy pace, not slowing down at all. he lets go of her hair, her head immediately falling onto the seat and he grips by her hips again, making sure she feels him as deep as he wants her to. he growls, being on the edge himself.

"i'm... close.." he mutters, throwing his head back. "gonna fill you up, yeah?"

she whines nodding desperately, but then he smacks her ass giving her a sign to answer verbally.

"shit! yes, fuck, yes chris, please!" she feels tears filling up her eyes from the pleasure, a few of them coming down her cheeks moment later. chris bites his lip, feeling her tightening around him. he moves one of his hands between her legs, now rubbing her clit, while still thrusting hard into her, but his movements getting sloppier. she cries out, her legs trembling and his dick twitches, finally cumming inside her, his warm sticky release filling her up and dripping out of her. he curses under his breath, digging his fingers into her skin, leaving bruises as he does. she feels him cumming, and the overstimulation from him lazily massaging her clit and still hitting her g-spot, makes her finish again. the pressure in her stomach now becoming too much, unable to hold back, she feels the liquid squirts out of her in waves.

his eyes snap open, looking down at her and he growls. he slows down until he eventually stops, after they both ride out their highs, this time not wanting to overstimulate her. looking at the mess she made, he can't help but feel a bit cocky about it.

"shit, ma.... squirtin' all over me, huh? is it how it is now?" he smirks, a little surprised that he made her do that but he couldn't be more proud. he pulls out of her, letting go of her hips and her body immediately falls onto the seat. she's breathing heavily, not being able to reply yet. "that's my fuckin' girl.."

he runs his fingers along her inner thigh, collecting her and his cum and he leans in a bit, covering over her. he looks at her fucked out expression and the smudged mascara on her cheeks. "look at me."

she opens her eyes, her mind blank, body shaking. he puts his fingers into her mouth, she immediately cleans them up, tasting both his and her release on her tongue, making sure she keeps the eye contact with him while she does that.

"you're so hot." he says now kissing the tears on her cheeks away. "took me so well..."

she smiles, seeing his flushed cheeks and messy hair sticking to his forehead. it was her favorite view.

"y'good, kid? don't go all mute on me now.."

"don't call me that...." she mumbles, trying to get her sarcastic attitude back, but she was absolutely spent right now. "i'm fine."

he just grins, gently patting her cheek before he pulls away. she slowly lifts herself up, trying to fight her trembling legs and she sits up now, facing him. not being able to do anything more yet, her glare moving to her legs and the seat she made mess on. she feels her cheeks growing hotter, now suddenly embarrassed and trying to ignore his stare. this never happened to her with him before and she didn't know what he thought about it.

"sorry about... the seats" she mumbles, grimacing.

he raises his eyebrows, now seeing her embarrassment and he doesn't understand why. it was a little surprising but he felt so proud. he already wanted to make her do it all over again. "you f'real? don't even say sorry, ever again."

she's still not so sure, blushing even more as he wipes her cheeks from the smudged mascara and then runs his hand through her hair, trying to fix it a little bit. he smiles softly. "gonna clean this up later, don't you worry 'bout that, okay?"

chris then reaches into the center console for the tissues, grabbing them and spreading her legs with his hands. she watches him closely seeing how he starts just gently cleaning her up. this simple movement makes her feel the heat rising from her cheeks down to her neck, so she just covers her face with her hands shyly. not really being able to understand why is she so embarrassed this time, he grabs her wrists, forcing her hands to move away from her face.

"y'gotta be kiddin' me. don't hide from me, ma." chris mutters. "not when you made such pretty mess in my car."

with a quiet sigh, she lets him take her hands off of her face. she chews on her bottom lip nervously while he goes back to cleaning her up, touching her slightly as she was made from some kind of glass. it was even cute, how he just made sure she was fine. it's not their first rough sex, but this one was definitely more intense and for some reason felt so... different. she had this strange feeling in her chest, just seeing him focused on wiping her legs and how he didn't seem to care about his covered in her release seats. once he's done, he sits beside her, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and pulling her close. she doesn't like the silence, even if before it was never awkward, this one was bothering her as she couldn't stop feeling unfamiliar emotions.

"i ran out, by the way." she suddenly blurts out, making him laugh. there was no way in hell this girl was real.

"yeah? good to know. gonna give y'some more later."

"im paying this time."

"oh, you've paid enough already." she immediately looks up at him, smacking his shoulder and he chuckles in response, pretending to be in pain. "woaaahh, bein' a little brat again, hm?"

"that's not funny, im giving you money." her tone shows no objection, he smirks and nods, knowing he won't take anything from her anyway. they sit like that for a moment, before he speaks up, knowing he will get another hit after that.

"soooo... round two?"

"christopher, i swear to god."

_____________________________

a/n: oh my god this seems sooo long 😭 tell me what yall think, i feel like i kinda fucked up with the whole dealer vibe but lmk please! i honestly enjoyed writing that so who knows..

[mephisto-reporting]

Period Pain Simulator

About:You suggest to use a period cramp simualtor on him, and he agrees, not fully understanding what he signed up for. Based on this request. Pairing: Female Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship.My inbox is open for prompts and requests :) Content Warning: Mention of periods, period care, pain.

ZAYNE

The pitch:

When you brought up the idea of trying a period pain simulator with Zayne, he initially tilted his head in that ever-so-slightly skeptical way he does when you propose something he deems "questionable."

You held up your phone, a mischievous grin on your face. "Zayne, I found something amazing. It’s a period pain simulator, and I think you should try it."

Zayne raised an eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest. "Why? I’m a doctor. I understand how bad it can get."

You scoffed. "Do you really, though? So many male doctors dismiss period pain like it’s no big deal. I think it’s time you felt what we go through. You know, for science."

He gave a small, amused smirk, but the seriousness in his eyes softened. "Alright, I’ll humor you. But if we’re doing this, make sure to get the one that can simulate back pain, too. Many women experience cramps radiating through the lower back, not just the abdomen. It’ll be a more accurate representation."

The Setup:

When the package arrived, Zayne opened it with the same precision he used in surgery. He carefully examined the simulator pads and settings, nodding in approval. "This is well-designed. Electrodes for the lower abdomen and lumbar region… Not bad."

You couldn’t help but grin. "Glad it meets Dr. Zayne’s standards."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t fight the smile tugging at his lips. "Let’s get this over with. I have a feeling you’re going to enjoy this too much."

He meticulously read the instructions, asking you questions about where the pain usually hits, its intensity, and duration.“And you’d rate it… a 9? Frequently?” he asked, frowning slightly. “I know you’ve mentioned how painful it can be before, but hearing it in these terms makes it…” He trailed off, his lips pressing into a thin line.

You secured the simulator pads on him, and he reclined in his chair like a man about to undergo a scientific trial, his expression stoic.

The Experiment:

At first, Zayne was unshaken, even giving clinical commentary.

“The cramping sensation is similar to gastrointestinal issues.” he noted, folding his arms across his chest. “Not unbearable, but unpleasant. I can see why it’s distracting.”

“Distracting?” You rolled your eyes. “Just wait, doctor.”

By level 6, you saw the shift. His previously composed expression faltered, his jaw tightening slightly. “Ah,” he exhaled sharply, his posture stiffening. His hand gripped the arm of the chair, knuckles whitening. “"The contractions are sharper now. Definitely impacting focus and posture.”

“What? Giving up already?” you teased, trying not to laugh.

“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth, though a faint sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. “But this is… significantly more intense. Is this close to what you experience?”

"Not even close," you replied. "Mine’s more like a 9."

His eyebrows lifted, and he leaned forward slightly. "Let’s test it, then. Gradually increase it to your level."

When you nudged it to 8, his knees began to quiver slightly, and he leaned forward, bracing himself on his thighs.

“Alright,” he muttered, his voice tight. “That’s… that’s enough.”

You quickly turned it off, watching as he took a long, steadying breath, his head tilted back against the chair.

You immediately turned the device off and knelt in front of him, watching as he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. "Are you okay?"

Zayne didn’t say anything at first, just ran a hand down his face and looked at you.

“Nine?” he finally asked, his tone low and tinged with disbelief.

“Nine,” you confirmed, smiling faintly as you handed him a glass of water.

He exhaled sharply, his voice softer than usual. "I’m fine. Just… processing. I can’t believe you go through that regularly." He paused for a bit and said after a moment, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you function like this.”

You couldn’t resist teasing him. “So, doctor, any thoughts on how to fix it?”

He smirked faintly, though his expression still carried a hint of solemnity. “If I had the solution, I’d be a billionaire.”

The Aftermath:

From that day, Zayne became even more attentive during your periods. Whenever he noticed you wincing or holding your lower abdomen, he’d quietly step in with solutions. He was already a sweetheart before this when he would: Startkeeping track of your cycle, ensuring his apartment was stocked with your favorite snacks, pain relievers, and heating pads. On particularly bad days, he’d prepare meals for you, saying it was "basic patient care."

One morning, as you struggled to get ready for work, he handed you a heating pad. "Here. Lie down for a bit. I’ll call in and write you a sick note. You need rest more than they need you today."

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I can power through."

He placed a hand on your shoulder, his tone firm yet gentle. "No need to prove anything. Your health comes first."

He draped a blanket over you and handed you a mug of herbal tea. Sitting beside you, he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

"You’re spoiling me.." you teased.

He smirked, leaning in to kiss your temple. "After that simulator, you’ve earned it. Besides, I don’t mind taking care of you."

And from then on, Zayne made it his personal mission to ease your discomfort every month.

SYLUS

The Pitch:

You bring up the idea while lounging in his living room, half-expecting him to dismiss it with his usual sly smirk. Instead, he leans back, crossing one leg over the other, an amused glint in his sharp eyes.

"A period cramp simulator, hmm? You want to subject me to this, kitten?" His voice is teasing, but there's intrigue in his tone.

“You already treat me like royalty during my periods, but I think it’d be fun to see if you can handle the pain. You’re always so smug about your high pain tolerance.”

Sylus had always been attentive during your period. He tracked your cycle meticulously, often surprising you with gestures that softened even his domineering demeanor. He'd run you a hot bath infused with soothing oils, carrying you to the tub if you were too tired to move. When cramps got bad, he’d hold a warm compress to your stomach, his other hand massaging your lower back with expert care. When you think you’re being a bother, he’d often say: “Sweetie, do you think the Onychinus leader doesn’t know how to cater to his queen?"

Sylus chuckled lowly, leaning forward. “Very well, kitten. I’ll play along with your little experiment. But I warn you,” he teased, tapping your nose lightly, “don’t get your hopes up. I’ve endured worse than cramps.”

The Setup:

When the package arrives, Sylus studies it with unnerving focus, turning the instruction manual over in his hands. He helps you place the patches and electrodes on his abdomen, his smirk never fading.

“Don’t look so thrilled,” you tease.

“Oh, I’m just curious how something as small as this could possibly mimic what you endure.” he replies, confident.

You set the simulator to level 1 as he stands in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for your meal.

"Are you sure you want to cook like that?" you ask.

He shrugs. “You manage to work and do your chores during this, don’t you? Fair is fair.”

The Experiment:

At level 1, Sylus continued to chop vegetables, unfazed. “A mild annoyance,” he commented, smirking over his shoulder. “Feels like someone’s pinching me.”

By level 4, he hummed quietly, stirring the pot on the stove. “I can see why it’s bothersome,” he admitted. “Having this sensation constantly for days would be draining.”

You crossed your arms. “This is what I feel before my period starts. My cramps are much worse.”

His crimson eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued. “Then turn it up. Let’s see what you deal with, kitten.”

At around level 7, his breath hitches slightly, and his movements slow. The knife falters for a second before he regains his rhythm. “Interesting…” he mutters, the usual smugness replaced by concentration. “This is… unpleasant,” he admitted, his voice gruff.

At level 8, Sylus paused, one hand gripping the edge of the counter as a faint grunt escaped him. “You’re telling me this is a normal day for you?”

You shrugged, leaning against the counter. “More or less. Sometimes it’s worse.”

When you hit level 9, his head dipped slightly, a cold sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. “This…” he growled softly, straightening with effort, “is brutal. And you still function like this?”

“At least you’re not curling up in bed crying…” you teased.

He shot you a strained smirk. “Who says I’m not thinking about it?”

At level 10, Sylus shuddered, a rare moment of vulnerability showing as he gripped the counter tightly. “Alright, turn it off!” he said, his voice low and rough. “Next time any man says something dismissive about period pains…” He straightens, despite his trembling legs. “The Onychinus leader will personally make sure they understand how bad it can be.”

You help him to the couch, gently massaging his shoulders while he catches his breath. He leans into your touch, uncharacteristically silent. After a few minutes, he looks at you, his gaze softer than you’ve ever seen it.

“You go through that every month?” he asks, his tone laced with awe and guilt.

You nod. “And worse, sometimes.”

You handed him a glass of water, running a soothing hand over his back. “You okay now, Mr. Tough Guy?”

His smirk returned, albeit faintly. “I’m fine. But I have a new appreciation for your resilience. You’re tougher than I gave you credit for, sweetie.” he murmured, his hand reaching out to pull you close.

The Aftermath:

From that day, Sylus became even more attentive during your cycle. He already tracked it meticulously, but two days before your period, he’d sweep you off your feet—literally.

“No arguments.” he’d say as he carried you to his car. “You’re staying with me. I’ll handle everything.”

For the next several days, you weren’t allowed to lift a finger. He made sure every craving was satisfied, every discomfort alleviated.

One evening, as you sat curled up on his plush couch, he brought over a tray with your favorite snacks and bobba. Sitting beside you, he gently massaged your shoulders.

“You know…” you teased, “you don’t have to spoil me this much.”

Sylus leaned in, his voice a low, affectionate murmur. “After what you go through, sweetie? You deserve it. Besides,” he added with a playful smirk, “I like taking care of my kitten.”

RAFAYEL

The Pitch:

You find Rafayel in his art studio, humming to himself as he paints bold, crimson strokes across the canvas. His expression is focused, but when you mention the period simulator, he freezes mid-swipe.

“Wait. Back up.” He narrows his eyes at you, holding the brush aloft like a sword. “You want me to voluntarily experience pain? Have I offended you somehow, or do you just take joy in my suffering?”

You grin. “I was thinking it might inspire your art. Pain breeds creativity, doesn’t it?”

He gasps, clutching his chest. “You’d subject me to agony for the sake of art? Truly, you are a sadist of the highest order. But…” He sighs dramatically, as though resigning himself to a grim fate. “Only you could convince me to do such a thing. You should feel privileged. But don’t think I’m suffering alone. If I do this, you’re doing it with me.”

The Setup:

When the simulator package arrives, Rafayel eyes it like it might explode. Picking up one of the devices, he smirks.

“Cutie, there’s four devices… I think you misordered. Should we strap one of these on Reddie and see how he handles it? Might be the only thing more ridiculous than this idea.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s meant to simulate cramps on your stomach and back, Rafayel. And no, we’re not torturing your pet fish.”

He flips through the instructions and gasps. “It goes up to ten? Why stop there? Why not go straight to death by cramps? You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“You scared?” you tease, securing the pads on his abdomen.

“Me? Scared?” He laughs, though there’s a nervous edge to it. “Please. Let’s get this over with, sadist.”

The Experiment:

The simulator starts, and Rafayel chuckles, waving it off. “Okay, I feel… something. Like a tiny, grumpy crab pressing against my stomach. Barely noticeable.” He glances at you, checking your reaction. “You’re starting this at baby mode, right? Because this is nothing.”

At level 4, his smugness evaporates as he clutches his abdomen. “Okay, wait. What is this? This is worse than that bad lobster I ate last year! Remember that? I thought I was dying, and now I’m reliving it!” As you ramp it up to level 5, Rafayel grabs your hand tightly, his face pale. “How—how are you just sitting there? Are you even human? You’re not reacting, and I’m over here wondering if my internal organs are trying to start a mutiny!”

When the simulator goes up to a level 6, Rafayel groans, leaning heavily on you. “This… this is inhuman! How can anyone live like this? I’m calling it now!! every deity ever owes women an apology. A big one.”

When you turn the dial to level 7, he collapses onto the couch in defeat, dramatically throwing an arm over his face. “I’m done! I can’t! This is not natural. What kind of cruel universe would let this happen? I concede! You win! You’re stronger than I’ll ever be.”

Watching you crank the simulator up to 10, Rafayel’s jaw drops. He stares at you like you’ve just walked through fire. “You’re not human. You’re a goddess of pain. A warrior queen. I bow to your strength.”

When the simulation ends, Rafayel sprawls across the couch like a fallen hero. “I’ve seen the face of true suffering, and it’s period cramps,” he says, clutching his chest. “From now on, I swear on my soul, I will treat you like the queen you are. From now on, during your period, I vow to never, ever bother you. In fact, I’ll treat you like royalty. You’ll want for nothing. You have my word.”

The Aftermath:

True to his promise, Rafayel becomes even more attentive, finding ways to make your life easier and more comfortable during that time of the month.

During your next period, Rafayel sets up a cozy movie marathon. He ensures you’re comfortable, surrounded by pillows and snacks, while he fetches anything you need.

“You shouldn’t even have to move during this time,” he says, adjusting your blanket.

Rafayel starts holding his tongue when he’d usually tease you about being grumpy or tired. Instead, he softens his tone and offers comfort.

“Cranky today?” he asks, then quickly holds up his hands. “Not judging. Just… Here, have this chocolate. And maybe don’t throw..” pauses mid-snark every time you are on your period now.

“You really don’t have to—”

He cuts you off, wagging a finger. “Nope! I have seen the light—and the pain. I will never bother you during this time again. In fact, I’ll personally fight anyone who does.”

XAVIER

The Pitch:

It’s late evening, and the glow of dimmed lights barely keeps the shadows at bay. Xavier sits across from you, his neutral expression making his ghost story seem even eerier. His voice is steady, almost monotone, as he recounts the chilling tale of an N109 Wanderer cursed to roam forever.

“And then, the last person to see him claimed they felt his breath on their neck, even though they were alone,” he murmurs, his tone unwavering.

A shiver runs down your spine, but you can’t help but interrupt. “You’re really good at these creepy stories. Ever think you might scare yourself with anything at all?”

Xavier pauses, raising an eyebrow. “Are you trying to scare me?”

You laugh nervously. “No! I was just thinking about something I saw online. A period simulator. It looked like fun—or, well, not fun, but… interesting.”

He leans back slightly, his neutral mask slipping into the faintest smirk. “So, instead of scaring me, you want to torture me? Bold.”

“It’s not torture,” you counter. “Just… educational. And you’re good at handling pain, right?”

After a beat, Xavier shrugs. “If it’ll make you happy, sure.”

The Setup:

The next day, a text from Xavier lights up your phone:

“It’s here. Looks dystopian. Like something from the Ever’s labs.”

Curious and excited, you rush home. When you arrive, you find him sprawled on the couch, his hair slightly disheveled as though he just woke up from a nap.

He glances at you, his expression as neutral as ever, though there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “You look way too excited for this. I hope it’s not as bad as it looks.”

As you set up the simulator, Xavier leans back, arms folded behind his head. “Go ahead. I’ll just nap through this, like everything else.”

The Experiment:

You attach the simulator pads to Xavier’s abdomen and adjust the settings. He barely reacts as you activate it.

“I feel something,” he mutters, closing his eyes again. “It’s like… a soft vibration. Barely noticeable.” He shifts slightly, adjusting his head on the couch pillow. Xavier’s brow furrows slightly, the first sign of unease. “Alright. It’s like a cramp now,” he remarks, still lying down. “Not pleasant, but nothing worth waking up for.”

At level 4, Xavier’s breath hitches briefly. He sits up halfway, propping himself on his elbows. “Okay. This is… noticeable. Like someone twisting a knife in slow motion.”

He glances at you. “You feel this regularly? Seems inconvenient.”

You nod at him. "That's on a lucky day... it's worse usually."

When you dial up the intensity to level 5, Xavier sits up fully, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Alright. This is officially too much to nap through.” His usually even tone is edged with mild irritation.

He rubs at his side, his neutral expression faltering as he exhales through clenched teeth.

At level 6, Xavier winces visibly. His calm exterior cracks as he shifts uncomfortably. “Who thought this was a good idea? This is like… a fight I can’t win. But it’s inside me.”

He shoots you a tired glare. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

By the time you reach level 7, Xavier grips the couch’s armrest, his knuckles white. “This is insane!!" he mutters, his voice tight. “How do you even… move? Function? Exist?”

He closes his eyes and takes a slow, measured breath. “Alright, I’m impressed. But I hate this.”

When you push it to level 8, Xavier’s calm breaks completely. He groans, pulling the simulator pads off. “Nope. I’m done. This is where I draw the line.”

He leans back, pressing his hand against his abdomen. “You win. And I officially respect the crap out of you.”

The Aftermath:

From that day on, Xavier’s quiet attentiveness becomes more noticeable. He doesn’t make a big show of it…he’s still Xavier, after all. Whenever you look even slightly uncomfortable, he’s there with a heat pack, water, or a blanket, his movements calm and efficient.

One night, as you rest on the couch, he leans over, adjusting the blanket over your shoulders. “For what it’s worth,” he says softly, “if I could take that pain for you, I would.” When you casually mention feeling cramps, Xavier immediately stops what he’s doing.

“Don’t move,” he says, his neutral expression betraying his seriousness. “I’ll get you tea, chocolate, or… whatever else helps.”

When you protest, he shakes his head. “No arguments. I’ve been there…well, sort of…and I’m not letting you handle it alone.”

Xavier hands you a heat pack, his movements precise as he places it on your lower back.

“I read somewhere this helps,” he explains, his tone matter-of-fact. “And no, I’m not going to fall asleep while holding it for you. Probably... It’s nice and warm…”

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy

[girlrotterr]

꒰ lick it up, fucking eat. ᮫ ⭒

married!ellie x interior designer! reader Summary: Ellie hires you to bring her shitty wife’s so-called "dream home" to life, but you end up fufilling something else.

The house was silent, save for the low hum of the air conditioning, which flowed through the sprawling, half-renovated living room. You stood in front of a swatch of paint samples, holding each one up to the fading light from the bay window. The sun dipped low, casting golden fingers across the unfinished floorboards, hinting at what the space might look like when it was finally complete. Ellie watched you from across the room, leaning casually against the doorframe with her arms crossed, her gaze drifting between you and the wall.

“That one,” she muttered, jerking her chin toward the beige sample you held. Her voice was laced with something close to disdain. “She thinks it’s ‘elegant.’ "

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the shade—a flat, muted tone that felt as lifeless as the drywall it would cover. "Well," you replied, “if she wants ‘elegant,’ I’m sure we can do more than beige."

Ellie’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, a glint of something both dark and playful in them. She pushed off the wall, coming a little closer, her boots scuffing against the rough wood. "Exactly what I was thinking," she murmured, her gaze lingering on you a second too long before shifting to the wall.

You let out a quiet breath, suddenly very aware of the way her presence filled the room, heavy and warm, with a pull that seemed to demand attention. Her sleeves were pushed up, revealing her tattooed forearm—faintly smudged paint stains and a few scratches etched across her knuckles. Her messy hair fell into her eyes, and she brushed it away, glancing down at the floorboards as if they might give her the answers she was looking for.

“So… if it were completely up to you,” she continued, her voice softer now, “what would you do with the place?”

You felt a small jolt of excitement, surprised that she cared enough to ask your opinion. You took a slow breath, letting yourself look around the room with fresh eyes. "Something warm, to make the room feel alive. Maybe custom furniture, something that doesn’t look like it’s from a catalog."

She nodded slowly, her gaze following yours as you spoke, but there was something deeper, something unspoken in the way she looked at you. Like this wasn’t about the walls or the furniture.

"We could go for that," she said, and her voice dropped, quiet, the weight of her words sinking into the empty space between you. "Anything that makes this place feel less… hers."

Your heart fluttered at the faint edge of bitterness in her voice, the quiet rebellion hiding beneath her sarcasm. She was closer now, close enough that you could feel her warmth radiating toward you in the cooling room, close enough that you could see every detail of her: the subtle flecks of green in her eyes, the faint line of a scar near her temple.

You reached out, brushing your fingers over a scratch on the windowsill. "This place could be incredible. It just needs to feel lived in, loved.”

Ellie swallowed, her eyes following your hand. “Can you fullfill that?,” she murmured, and there was a softness in her voice now, something that made your stomach flip.

Your breath caught, pulse quickening as you felt the subtle shift in the air between you. The moment held a thread of tension, tight and fragile, like something waiting to be snapped. You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’d love to show you. Just need a little… freedom with the choices.”

Ellie’s smirk returned, faint but laced with something deeper, "Freedom, huh?" She stepped back, giving you a lingering once-over before nodding, her voice a low murmur. "Yeah… I think we can work something out."

She pulled her gaze away reluctantly, as if forcing herself to break the spell, and you felt the strange tug of her absence, the fading warmth of her presence as she retreated toward the hallway. "Just… no beige," she added, her back already turned, her voice drifting down the hall like an invitation. 

You stood there, the glow of the setting sun washing over you, you realized you felt a thrill. 

The days passed in a blur of decisions, late-night calls with suppliers, and a dozen small, carefully calculated adjustments to make the space feel warmer, more vibrant—despite the rigid input from Ellie’s wife. You’d spent the afternoon with her, going over fixture placements and fabric swatches. She was precise, clinical, every suggestion an opportunity to correct, to refine, to turn down anything that dared to stand out.

Ellie’s wife stood in the middle of the room, studying the sofa with a critical eye. She let out a sigh, her fingers skimming over the velvet, dismissing it as though it were somehow beneath her. “I thought I made it clear I wanted something more sophisticated. This feels… almost flashy.” Her gaze landed on you, thinly veiled irritation simmering beneath her smile.

You opened your mouth to explain the intention behind the choice when the front door opened. Ellie walked in, still in her work clothes, a slight weariness to her step. Her gaze moved from you to her wife.

Ellie’s wife immediately turned to her, her posture stiffening. “There you are. I was just telling our designer here that this,” she gestured to the room around her with an air of distaste, “is not what we discussed.”

Ellie’s face tightened, a frustrated, almost exasperated look clouding her eyes. “ A little color wouldn’t kill you.”

“Yes, but I expected you’d listen to what I actually wanted.” She crossed her arms, her gaze pointed. “This was supposed to be tasteful, Ellie. Not… whatever this is.”

Ellie let out a dry laugh, brushing past her, stepping closer to you as she took in the room. “And by ‘tasteful,’ you mean dull walls and soulless furniture. Right?” 

Her wife’s eyes flashed, and she folded her arms tighter. “It’s not my fault you don’t understand the concept of refinement.”

Ellie’s jaw clenched, her hand flexing at her side. “God, do you even hear yourself? It’s a fucking home, not a damn workplace. Just—" she glanced over at you, her face softening briefly as if realizing you were caught in the middle. "Never mind.”

You held your breath, feeling the tension swell, a raw kind of frustration radiating between them. But Ellie’s wife was relentless, her voice sharp and dismissive. “Oh, here we go again. You act like I’m asking for something ridiculous. Just admit it—you’re the one who’s never satisfied. You’re the one who thinks everything has to be some big, meaningful statement. Not everything’s about you, Ellie!”

Ellie’s face flushed, her eyes flashing with something dangerously close to anger. She opened her mouth, then closed it, a defeated breath slipping past her lips as she seemed to reconsider. She cast one last glance at you, and you felt that familiar pull between you—a silent, unspoken understanding—and then, with a shake of her head, Ellie stormed off, her shoes echoing down the hallway until the door slammed behind her.

Silence swallowed the room, leaving you and her wife alone once more. 

“See what I have to deal with?” she muttered, shaking her head. "She gets these weird ideas about what’s ‘creative’ or ‘cool’ and just… doesn’t listen to reason. She doesn’t even understand what it takes to make a space look sophisticated. Her taste—it’s like a teenager trying to decorate a dorm room."

You felt your grip tighten on the sample book, but you forced yourself to stay professional. “Well, Ellie did mention she wanted something with a bit more character.”

Her wife snorted, crossing her arms with an exasperated sigh. “Exactly. Character. She’s so out of touch with what a home needs to feel welcoming. She can’t just accept that maybe—just maybe—she doesn’t know better than me.”

She flipped past a deep, velvety forest green swatch Ellie had specifically loved. “This green? I mean, it’s hideous. Who even wants a dark color like that in their home? It’s depressing.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking at the swatch she’d just discarded. “It could add some depth to the space. Sometimes dark colors bring a warmth that—”

Her wife gave you a sharp look, like you’d crossed some invisible line. She forced a tight smile. “Trust me,” she said, voice dripping with condescension, “there’s nothing to ‘deepen’ here. I know what I want, and I don’t need Ellie’s… outlandish tastes cluttering up my vision.”

The house had transformed into a hive of activity, buzzing with the sounds of hammers, paint rollers, and snippets of conversation as workers bustled around. Every corner of the room felt alive with movement, a stark contrast to the emptiness you’d felt days prior. Furniture was being hauled in, drapes were hung, and the walls were beginning to take on their new colors. Yet despite the flurry of activity, your attention was divided, searching the room more often than not for a familiar face.

And then, as if on cue, Ellie appeared.

She wove through the workers, carrying a crumpled paper bag in one hand and balancing two cups of coffee in the other. She wore a smile, her messy hair peeking out from under a faded baseball cap, a glimmer of excitement lighting up her face as she caught your eye. She slipped between a worker with a paint can and another adjusting a lamp, until finally, she stopped in front of you. 

Ellie held up the bag with a faint smile. “Thought you could use a break,” she said, nudging the bag into your hands. “There’s a place around the corner that makes delicious pastries.”

Surprised and a little touched, you opened the bag, the warm, sweet scent wafting out immediately. “Thank you.”

The noise of the workers faded into a distant hum, becoming a mere backdrop to the moment as you took a bite of the pastry. The warm sweetness melted on your tongue, rich and comforting, drawing a soft sigh from your lips. But in your enjoyment, you didn’t notice the crumb that fell, catching just at the corner of your lips. 

Ellie did, though.

In the midst of all the clamor—the sharp buzz of saws cutting through wood, the metallic clinking of hammers striking nails, and the sound of her wife’s sharp voice scolding a worker about the paint application—Ellie stepped closer, her expression suddenly serious.

Her fingers were careful, warm, and impossibly soft as they brushed the crumb from your lips. You felt her fingertip linger there, feather-light, barely skimming your skin, but enough to make your breath catch.

Her gaze held yours, deep green eyes flickering with an unreadable emotion that pulled you in. Ellie’s fingers felt electric against your skin, her knuckles resting against your cheek, the warmth radiating from her touch contrasting with the cool air of the room. Ellie’s eyes dropped for just a heartbeat, shifting from your gaze to your mouth, where her thumb hovered near your lip. You could feel your heart racing, each beat echoing in your ears as she lingered just a moment longer than necessary.

You could hear her breath hitch slightly as her fingers finally pulled away, leaving your skin cold in their absence.

“Fuck” she murmured, voice low and just a little hoarse. Her gaze drifted to your lips one last time, almost on purpose, before she forced her eyes to focus anywhere but on you. 

You remember when the affair began.

It was a cold winter, the kind that seeped into your bones, making everything feel heavy and muffled. Snow blanketed the world outside, a serene white glow through the window. 

Ellie was pressed against you, her body radiating heat as she leaned in closer, her face achingly near yours. You could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with the cool air between you. Her hands flexed around your hips, desperate to grip them, to anchor herself to you. 

There was a desperation.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” She pleaded, her voice strained,  a wish that perhaps if you rejected her, if you spoke the words she needed to hear, the desires swirling for you would vanish. 

But as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against yours in a feather-light touch, the world around you blurred.  A shiver raced down your spine, igniting something deep within you—a spark that flared into a flame, daring you to give in. 

“I need you,” Ellie breathed, the urgency in her voice sending warmth pooling in your stomach. Her words ghosted over your skin, leaving a trail of heat that made it impossible to think straight. “I need to feel you, to taste you. Please, let me have you…” 

You could see it in her eyes—the hunger, the need. 

Your lips touched Ellie’s, slowly, tentatively at first. You hesitated for a moment, searching her eyes for any sign of hesitation, any hint that this was a mistake. But all you found was a dark hunger reflected in her gaze, a need that mirrored your own. The soft sound of falling snow outside barely registered as you leaned in closer, feeling the warmth of her body.

Ellie’s lips then pressed against yours, slow and soft, “Oh, fuck.” she gasped, her breath warm against your mouth. 

It was all you needed. 

You kissed her again, this time deeper and more sensual, losing yourself in the taste of her. Every brush of your lips was a question, every stroke of your tongue an answer. Savoring the way her tongue stroked against yours with caresses that left you breathless.

“God, you taste amazing,” she murmured against your lips. The way she spoke made you feel seen, desired, as if every part of you was exactly what she craved.

“Ellie…” you breathed, her name slipped from your lips so easily. 

Ellie’s kisses grew more urgent, each one a desperate plea for more as her hands gripped your hips with bruising force, anchoring you against the wall. Her lips trailed down your neck, gasping as her teeth grazed over your skin.  And then, without warning, she sucked hard, her mouth forming a seal against your neck. 

“Oh fuck..” you breathed, your voice aching to be more than a whisper. 

Ellie was already lost in her own world, her focus entirely on you, on the way your body responded to her touch.

"Shhh, we need to be quiet," she whispered, her voice low with need, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, pupils dilated with lust, a fiery spark that made your stomach knot.

Her hands wandered down your body, fingers tracing the contours of your ass, kneading the soft flesh as she pulled you closer, digging into your skin and leaving dents where her grip tightened.

"God, I can’t get enough of you." she breathed, her hands slipping to unbutton your jeans. Her fingers teased the waistband of your panties, dipping just beneath the fabric to caress your folds, igniting a heat through you. She kissed and nipped at your neck, her tongue flicking out to taste your sweat-slicked skin.

Her hand slid further into your panties, her fingers parting your slick folds to stroke your sensitive clit. You gasped, your mouth agape as she circled the swollen nub with a feather-light touch. Her other hand slid up your body, cupping your tit and kneading the soft mound. Her fingers found your hardened nipple, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud between her thumb and index finger.

"Oh fuck.." you hiccuped, “please.." 

Leaning down, ellie’s hot breath hovered over your sensitive skin before she took your nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. She moaned against your nipple, her tongue flicking against the hardened bud as she sucked hard, her teeth grazing your skin, making you gasp.

"Ellie," you begged, your voice strained with need. "I need more.”

Her eyes darkened with lust as she gazed at you, turned on by your desperate pleas. "Beg for it," she groaned, her voice low. Ellie's fingers stroked your slick folds, teasing your entrance but not yet delving inside. She circled your clit with light touches, making you buck your hips, seeking more friction.

“Please," you moaned. "Please, fuck me."

Apparently she didn’t need much convincing.

With an urgency, Ellie plunged two fingers knuckle-deep into your soaking cunt, curling them upward to stroke that sensitive spot inside you. The lewd sound of your juices squelching filled the air as she pumped her fingers in and out, stroking your inner walls with each thrust, her thumb rubbing soft circles around your aching clit.

"Atta girl.." Ellie groaned, her voice thick with desire. "Ride my fucking fingers."

"fuuck, right there," you moaned, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. 

You reached down to slide your hand to unbutton ellie’s jeans. Her belt clinking as her hips bucked forward. Your fingers crept beneath the waistband of her boxers, feeling the slick flesh of her dripping hole.

"Fuuck me," Ellie moaned, grinding her hips against your hand, spreading her thighs wider to give you more access to her aching cunt. Her movements were desperate, urging you to rub her swollen clit, the sensitive nub pulsing beneath your touch.

"Yes, fuck, just like that," she groaned, her perky tits bouncing slightly with each thrust. Her head rolling back in pleasure, eyes fluttering shut as she lost herself.

"Yes, just like that," You moaned, ellie’s fingers pumping faster in and out of your dripping cunt. She could feel your slick coating her fingers, your juices dripping down her wrist. Your hips jerked erratically, your stomach beginning to knot. With a sharp cry, you came, your pussy spasming around her fingers as you rode out your orgasm.

"That's it, cum for me," she moaned, rubbing your clit faster to prolong your pleasure. "Come all over my fucking fingers." Your body shuddered, your walls clenching around her as you milked her fingers for all they were worth. She could feel your juices gushing out, coating her hand and dripping onto the floor. Your moans filled the room, echoing obscenely off the walls.

Ellie slowly withdrew her fingers, feeling your walls clench around her as she pulled them out. Your juices coated her hand, glistening in the low light of the room.

She grabbed your shoulders, pushing you down to your knees. She hooked her thumbs in her waistband, shimmying her boxers down her thighs before stepping out of them. Ellie's pussy was glistening, she parted her folds to reveal her throbbing clit. She straddled your face, her dripping cunt hovering just above your mouth

“Fuck I -" Ellie moaned, grinding her hips down to press her pussy against your lips. “Fucking taste me.” Ellie's juices coated your mouth as you flicked your tongue out, lathering it along her slick folds before delving inside her dripping hole. Ellie's poor thighs trembled, her hands gripping your hair as she rode your face frantically, bringing her fingers to her lips, sucking your slick off of them with a low moan.

“You’re so fucking good," She groaned, her juices coating your mouth, dripping down your chin.

"That's it, right there," Ellie panted, her thighs trembling around your head. "Fuck, your tongue feels so good." Her hands gripped your hair, pulling you closer as she rutted against your mouth. 

"That's it, fuck, I'm gonna cum-," Ellie moaned, her hips jerking erratically. You plunged two fingers deep into Ellie's soaked cunt, her walls clenching around quickly, her juices gushing out. You sucked ellie's clit faster, feeling it twitch beneath your tounge as she came. 

“What the fuck!?” ellie’s wife excalimed. 

She had walked in, her eyes widening in shock as she took in the scene before her. 

Ellie was still straddling your face, her dripping pussy pressed against your mouth. The obsecene sounds of slurping and moaning filled the room, leaving no doubt as to what had been happening. 

You remember when the affair began. 

You remember when the affair ended.