#and i am impressed best image ever

[ireverie]

see a cheerleader, breed a cheerleader

pairing ↠ """nerd!"""jake x (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, dubcon, oral (m receiving), male face sitting, face fucking, unprotected sex, blackmail, choking, hitting, virgin!reader

summary ↠ ever since forever, you have always gotten your way with people by whatever means necessary. a wink and a smile is all it takes to make a boy drop to your feet and worship you. no one told you to think that jake sim would be any different. as it turns out, actions do have consequences.

wc ↠ 14.9k

a/n ↠ jeno version of this fic posted on my nct blog revehae. yea, mine. i am her she is me. THERE WILL BE NO SEQUEL. feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

▸ short, sweet, sometimes sticky

it was supposed to be like everybody else.

short, sweet, maybe sticky if you considered that one time you’d shaken that sunoo boy’s sweat-coated hands and watched the pale of his face burn the same fierce rose as the lens he saw you through. 

you’d laughed lightheartedly to spare him the embarrassment, telling him that everybody got a little sweaty every now and then, especially you. after all, cheerleading was more than skipping around and twirling. and at those words, you’d watched his eyes haze with the image of you damp with sweat, drenched head to toe.

hook, line, and sinker.

far too easy, exactly how you liked them. smart, easy, and utterly unable to resist you.

no one told you to expect something different from jake sim. and why would you? he knew all the right answers, had some of the best marks, and practically lived in the library. he perfectly fit the bill of your standard victim.

which was why you had no qualms about approaching him in the library while he was typing away at his laptop, occasionally sipping from some kind of coffee.

as if he could sense he was in imminent danger and needed to evacuate immediately, jake turned around before you could even make it completely to the table and saw you advancing on him with a pretty, practiced smile. “hi,” you greeted, waving at him. falling, your hands gripped the rear of the chair beside him. “is someone sitting here?”

jake raised a brow at you, but shook his head. “no, no one’s sitting there.”

“perfect,” you replied, pulling out the chair and taking a seat. you turned so that you were facing him. “jake, right?”

jake nodded slowly, wondering where this was going. he got plenty girls, sure, but none ever approached him in the library. “that’s me,” he said, curious. “do i know you?”

“well, probably not,” you replied, giggling as if something was funny. “but, you know… i’m a cheerleader.”

jake hummed. “are you now?”

you bobbed your head expectantly. “yeah, and i’ve heard about how smart you are. i’m impressed, to be honest. i mean, every time i’m in the library, i see you sitting here. i could never spend so much time here. you must have a lot of resolve to do something like that.”

“you think so?” jake asked, pretending to be flattered just to see where you were leading him. 

“i do. like, really do,” you replied, brushing your fingers against his forearm. “i just have so many other,” better, “things to do, you know. with cheer, i’m either practicing or resting so that i’ll have energy for practice. it’s really hard on me, you know?”

jake stifled a chuckle and glanced back at his laptop screen. “you poor thing.”

your brows stitched. he wasn’t paying nearly enough attention to you. it was almost like he was uninterested. “and that’s why i was wondering if you could help me. i mean, you’re such a genius. you could probably do it in half the time it would take me,” you continued, lowering your hand onto his denim-clad thigh, and becoming surprised by how sturdy it felt.

jake spared a fleeting glance at your hand on his left thigh before his eyes flitted to your face, watching you wink at him and throw him a smile. “let me get this straight,” he started, slowly caressing the back of your hand with his thumb as it sat on his thigh. “you want me to… do your work for you?”

“hey, your hard work wouldn’t go unrewarded,” you insisted, ignoring the unexpected motions of his thumb. “you’d have my attention. i mean, like i said, i don’t have a lot of time to give away. but i’m willing to spend some of it on you.”

jake snickered, unable to help himself anymore. “are you this patronizing to everyone you meet?” he asked.

your eyes flickered. “p-patronizing?”

jake smiled, patting your hand before setting it on your own thigh. “sorry, was that a big word for you? you know, when you think you’re too good for something, but you don’t want to say it, so you play sweet and act like you’re helping me, when really, it’s the other way around.”

switching on a dime, you narrowed your eyes at him. for such a pretty boy, he had quite the attitude. “i know what patronizing means. and right now, i think you’re the one being patronizing.”

“am i?” jake asked, feigning obliviousness. “how’s it taste, cheerleader? doesn’t feel good, does it?”

your face was set in a scowl. sometimes it hurt you to play nice with people, and now was one of those times. “are you gonna help me or not?” you snapped.

“there it is,” jake sang, chuckling to himself. he put his hand on your thigh now, squeezing the flesh gently. for now. “there’s the real you.”

you swallowed, glaring over at him with a hint of defiance despite the disgusting, foreign feeling rotting in your chest. it had never gone like this before. every situation predating this one had been somewhat predictable, to the point where you’d come to expect certain reactions. this was not that.

“i’ll help you,” jake said after a pause.

you forced a smile. “great, so…”

jake interjected, “on one condition.”

smile faltering, you trailed off, processing his words. now he was making some kind of deal with you? who in the hell did this man think he was?

“on one condition?” you echoed, as if you’d somehow misheard him. your brows scrunched in suspicion. “what condition?”

jake grinned, the look on his face sly as hell and a stark contrast from the disgruntled glower on yours. “give me something in return,” was all he said, the tightening hold on your thigh giving away more than his words had.

you gawked, as if you were offended, and quickly swat at his hand. “i’m not having sex with you, you pervert!”

“sure, you’re not,” jake answered with a chuckle, eyes twinkling with amusement. everything about you was alluring to him for mostly all the reasons unintended. “but you said i’d have your attention. i guess you think it’s not often a poor, busy nerd like myself gets anyone’s attention, yeah? but nerds get tired too, don’t they? they need to de-stress…”

“that’s not my problem,” you spat. 

“you getting an F isn’t my problem, either,” jake retorted, shrugging his shoulders. “so what it’s gonna be, cheerleader?”

something about this situation isn’t right to you. maybe it’s the lack of power you currently wielded over him, despite the fact that you had gotten used to having your way with academically competent boys like himself. if he weren’t taller than you and stronger than you, you’d resort to other, more familiar methods.

but jake had changed the entire trajectory of this interaction for the worse, and now you had to determine whether or not it was beneath you to let him treat you as if you were some kind of object. you sulkily mulled it over, arms folded, trying to think of a way to maintain some semblance of power. “fine,” you finally replied, relenting. “but i’m not doing anything that requires me taking my clothes off.”

“you never seen a good porno, cheerleader?” jake asked, a stupid, taunting smile blemishing his lips. “that cute little uniform of yours is the whole appeal to some people.”

“my name is…,” you huffed irritably, tired of being referred to by your title. 

“frankly, cheerleader, i don’t care what your name is,” jake told you with brutal honesty. “you’re the one that introduced yourself as a cheerleader, like that’s your whole personality or something. thinking it would make me fold. you can’t be stupid and demanding.”

you gaped, affronted by the sheer audacity of him to even utter those words to you, like you were some dumb bimbo. “i’m not stupid! i’m just too busy.”

“right. too busy,” jake echoed, obviously none too convinced. “sorry for assuming.”

with a roll of your eyes, you stood up from the table chair, feeling utterly disrespected. “yeah, you should be,” you said, despite knowing his apology was completely inauthentic. “where’s your phone?”

jake arched a brow and glanced over to his phone, sitting face down against the table on the other side of him. before he could even respond, you reached over him to grab it and pointed it at his face, unlocking it as if you’d done it a million times before.

then, you started typing away, all the while jake watched you with an amused expression on his face. he had to admit, you were surely something. and though he found you entertaining, he couldn’t shake the thought that you desperately needed someone to put you in your place.

“reach me here,” you said after a moment, handing him his phone back. the screen was on his messages, a fresh contact with you.  “pleasure doing business with you.”

with that, you walked away. 

jake shook his head, scoffing. who the hell did you think you were?

over the next few days or so, you met with jake to better construct exactly what your expectations were pertaining to your work. or at least, those were the words he’d used. most of those limited encounters had ended with his hands sealing around your breasts.

you let it slide, deciding that a little over-the-clothes stuff was relatively harmless. after all, this was the busiest you’d been all year long, and you were far too exhausted when you got home to be burdened with stupid assignments and pesky discussion posts. the next two months, if not the next two weeks, were going to kill you if you didn’t have someone to carry at least half the workload on your behalf.

it was okay. jake’s inability to keep his hands to himself was fine. it wasn’t like anybody was going to know, or that this arrangement would last long enough for them to find out. you would get to keep your dignity and your grades, without saving one at the expense of the other.

short, sweet, and sticky, remember? maybe the latter was simply manifesting in the way jake’s hands were stuck to you. not that anything about him was sweet.

more like sacrifice.

▸ gilded age

“guess who just made the list of this week’s top ten trending sluts,” jennie said as she walked up beside you and roseanne.

roseanne perked up that, though she couldn’t help but mischievously quip, “you?”

jennie narrowed her eyes. “hoe, as if,” she spat. “i know how to keep my legs closed.”

you snickered. “god, what happened now?”

“a sex tape got leaked. hyeri, and apparently sunghoon.”

your nose scrunched, as if disgusted. “always knew she was a slut. i mean, you should have been there to see the way she acted around the jocks in high school. her eyes were practically screaming, ‘pick me, choose me, fuck me,’” you mocked.

roseanne burst into giggles, downing the rest of what was left in her red cup. “i don’t think that’s how that goes,” she chimed. “but sunghoon? is she crazy? i hope they didn’t do it raw. i heard rumors that he’s got the clap.” 

“he sure clapped something, alright,” jennie retorted, much to your amusement. “it was definitely raw. hope it was worth the itch. you guys wanna see?”

“absolutely not,” you said, shaking your head vigorously. “i bet her parents would love to see it, though. on second thought, send me it.”

roseanne gawked. “are you serious?”

you bobbed your head, grinning deviously. “yeah. you guys have no idea what that bitch was like in high school. i tried teaching her a lesson, but she just never learned. it’s like the bitch is addicted to pain or something.”

jennie shook her head, pretending to disapprove, though she was intrigued to see how far you would your obvious loathing. “just sent it.”

your phone vibrated in your hand a few seconds later. you opened your instagram burner account, scrolling through your main’s following to find hyeri’s mother’s page, and dropped the video in her inbox. your sly giggle alerted your friends to your success and you dropped your phone in your pocket, satisfied.

“oh, you’re sick,” jennie insulted playfully, nudging your arm. “i wonder if she’ll say anything.”

you shrugged your shoulders, feigning nonchalance as if you weren’t excited to see how her mother would respond. “don’t know, but i’m more curious about if she’ll talk to hyeri about it. i’d love to be a fly on the myung’s wall when that happens.”

roseanne tapped your shoulder. “hey, don’t look now, but that jake guy is staring you.”

your head whirled around, spotting jake in his own corner of the party, indeed watching your every move as if he wanted to consume you and was waiting for the perfect moment to attack. which, if he was, would not be surprising. 

roseanne sighed in annoyance. “i literally just said don’t look now.”

you turned back to face them, shaking your head. “don’t worry about that creep,” you replied, brushing it off. “he’s just begging to get in my pants. didn’t even know he went to parties.”

for whatever reason, jennie laughed. something about what you said tickled her, apparently. “um, yeah. that’s jake for you, alright. he’s either partying with his friends or grinding in the library, no in between. perfectly balanced lifestyle, i have to admit it.”

your brows furrowed. that was news to you. and probably an important piece of information that you’d conveniently missed when narrowing down your targets. maybe you should have asked around about him more. you just didn’t think that someone who studied as hard as he did could also be the life of the party.

what was he doing here, anyway? shouldn’t he have been off doing your homework? useless fucking nerdy-not.

“do you guys know each other or something?” roseanne pressed, noticing the strange tension in the air despite the fact that you and jake were feet apart. which was honestly admirable. “do you think you could get him to put me on with jungwon?”

jennie’s laughter rang out again, only this time, it was much louder, and much more mocking. “please. jungwon isn’t gonna touch any of us after how she broke his heart. you’d have better luck with jaehyun,” she sneered.

roseanne glared, a snarl on her face. “fuck jaehyun.”

“yeah, i bet you want to. i bet you’re still dreaming of that big, thick, meaty dick you wouldn’t shut up about, like, two months ago.”

“a lot can change in two months.”

“oh, it sure can,” jennie replied, humming. “it sure can.”

▸ takes two to tango

jake: come over

you: no

jake: that wasn’t a request 

you: no where in our agreement does it say you get to boss me around

jake: not even for an A?

you: that’s what your grabby hands are for

jake: i don’t have to do this, you know. i can let you be a grown up and fiend for yourself like the rest of us

you: i’m otw, chill. jesus

the knock of your fist against jake’s door was incessant, more than likely enough to exasperate his neighbors, given that it was particularly late at night and a good number of them had to have been sleeping.

jake threw the door open with a scowl, obviously irritated. “you are so fucking annoying,” he hissed, dragging you inside and shutting the door behind you. 

“ow!” you cried out, snatching your arm away. “stop that, i’m sore.”

jake shook his head, his discontent frown disappearing in favor of an entertained, idiotic smile. “sore, huh? from doing what?”

you rolled your eyes. “if it isn’t obvious, i’m a cheerleader,” you reminded, gesturing down to your uniform. “meaning, i cheer.”

ignoring your snarky attitude, jake glanced you up in down, taking in the sight of you in that tight, short cheer uniform that clung to you rather snugly. sweat still beaded at your damp legs and likely gathered between your breasts and down your back, as jake was imagining. “yeah, you cheer. you won’t let me forget,” he said, amused.

“well, i’m busy,” you said, crossing your arms.

busy, my fucking ass, jake thought to himself. “yeah, you won’t let me forget that, either. and yet, i saw you giggling with your friends at a party two weeks ago, looking completely fine. your poor, exhausted legs seemed to be working perfectly.”

“what, so i can’t have hobbies now?”

“sure, you can,” jake replied, shrugging his shoulders. “i just have to ask, do you ever do anything productive with your time?”

“of course, i do,” you hissed, before quickly deflecting, “but we both know that’s not why you made me come all the way over here. so, what do you want?”

“your attention,” jake said without missing a beat. his hands plopped against your bare shoulders and began wandering down your arms, rubbing them back and forth. “i’m in desperate need of a cheerleader’s sweet, precious attention.”

the disgruntled grimace on your face was the most effort you made to express your discomfort, not that he was looking there anyway. to him, at the moment, the sight of your body was much more appetizing. you watched with a repugnant burn simmering in your gaze as his eyes met your long, slender legs.

without warning, jake grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you into the air, making you cry out in surprise. arms dangling around his neck, you held on for dear life, not an inch of your body feeling safe in his arms. you had been hauled further away from the ground by your cheermates, but this was different; no one wanted to fail, meaning no one would drop you. you had no reason to assume that jake would handle you delicately.

but his burly arms, however, were not lost on you. though you hadn’t yet seen them in full power, your interactions mostly taking form of him forcing your back flush against the chiseled muscle of his chest as he kneaded yours, you could only imagine what the hands that groped you were capable of. 

in a matter of seconds, you landed on your back against his sheets, another shrill screech escaping your throat. “jake, what the hell?” you exclaimed. 

“i’m not getting on my knees for you,” jake said, the slyest of smiles tugging at his lips. “not unless it’s to fuck you. and you’re just too good to give it up, aren’t you?”

for him, definitely. and you would have said so, but your lips parted in a gasp, surprised and startled. something wet pushed along your sore legs, which were abruptly yanked to pillars far above your head so that they’d be more conveniently within reach of jake’s tongue as he licked long, hot lines at them.

your eyes were rooted on him, fixed in a shape unlike their natural narrowed, black blaze and it would instead be more apt likening them to the fear and fret of a deer in crossed paths. wide, waiting, almost innocent. too used to circumstance to understand its fabric and too unfamiliar to chance to understand its fate.

unsatisfied, jake bent your knee and pushed your leg further as he stood over the edge of his bed, and, in turn, over you, a grip on your ankles that you could feel in your bones. “jake, that hurts,” you whined. 

jake didn’t understand why you were bitching. “but you’re a cheerleader,” he echoed. “aren’t you flexible?”

you writhed uncomfortably as he continued shamelessly, tongue even daring to twist against the bone underneath the bend of your knee, a sensation that itched more than you expected. his lips sealed around your skin, sucking and nibbling.

needless to say, it was unlike anything you had experienced before. “stop, that’s weird!”

“stop complaining,” jake groaned, pushing your leg even harder. “it’s like all you ever do is complain about how hard your life is.”

your eyes stung now not only with loathing, but the threat of hot tears. it was stupid; it sounded dramatic, but you felt it was warranted when he was the one actively making your life harder. “you’re a fucking weirdo,” you snapped. 

jake heard it. the slight tremble in your voice despite the courage you’d been feigning. that was the sole reason he even bothered to look up at your face, the tears in them stealing his attention away in a heartbeat. he didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed, or maybe even both. “god, now you’re crying,” he pointed out. “i haven’t even done anything to you. do you need me to give you a reason to cry?”

you shook your head. all you needed was to go home and recharge. you were beginning to doubt whether or not he was worth the trouble he carried with him in exchange for a grade that would keep your parents off your back, especially if he was going to make pulling stunts like this a regular habit. 

the last thing you expected jake to do was tug the bottom of your top past the shadow of your breasts, slackening the taut grip on your ankles in favor of your wrists as if he knew you would dare resist him, and burying his face between your chest. you exhaled shakily, mortified by the hot, wet feel of his tongue licking a stripe between your breasts, gathering leftover sweat on its tip.

and you did thrash. but you were getting a taste of that power now; a power that wasn’t your own, a power that you couldn’t reap. a power that grabbed you with its calloused fist with a might so strong you couldn’t move. and it was for the first time that you felt utterly weak. there had to be a word for something as unfathomable as that, but it was so foreign to you that you couldn’t think of it.

to make matters worse, jake was taking his time, sucking bruises onto the skin of your chest in between his licking, as if he wanted to ensure there was no spot left untouched, no drop of sweat left behind. your face strained with discomfort, wanting more than anything to get away from him and this awful feeling rotting inside of your heart.

maybe your cries for mercy were heard, because no sooner had you hoped for an end than it came. “you can go now,” jake said, pulling away. he pulled your shirt back down and smoothed out any wrinkles, which was almost kind of him.

even though you were more than eager to be rid of him, you lay there, dumbfounded. it was one thing to be violated, and it was another to be dismissed, but to happen in rapid succession of each other quickly bred some ugly emotion that was only festering.

jake had expected you to scurry out of his bed, and out of his apartment, so the fact that you were still there bemused him. “what, do you want more?” he teased. 

you shook your head, sitting up a little too quickly. your head started to feel lightheaded. you barked, “that isn’t what i agreed to!”

jake had the audacity to laugh. like you had told a joke of some kind. “isn’t it? your clothes are still technically on. that was what you agreed to. remember?”

you dropped to your feet, pushing past him. “you’re disgusting,” was all you said, making a beeline for the door.

“takes two to tango, baby,” jake called after you, simpering.

you didn’t look back. you couldn’t. there was an unpleasant stir in your gut - not as easily distinguishable as the loathing - unlike anything you had ever felt and you desperately wanted it to go away, to rid of yourself of anything that even remotely resembled jake sim.

 ▸ chess, not checkers

deep, low grunts smacked against the walls and bounced back with almost the same amount of vigor of jake’s quick, unrelenting hips, the sound nearly as hard and heavy as he was. the only thing rivaling the tightness of the hole he was using was the wince of his closed eyes and the grip of his strong hands.

jake didn’t want to see. it would be too blatantly obvious that she wasn’t you, and that it wasn’t your blemished hips he was holding. though she sounded nothing like you. he knew that you would have been so much whinier, and despite finding them painfully obnoxious, he found himself longing to hear all your worthless, melodramatic complaints.

instead, he heard soft moans mingling with his own labored sounds as his hips moved with a mind of their own, imagining it was you underneath him where you truly belonged.

the image stained the back of his eyelids, burned behind them every time he closed his eyes; the shortness of your pleated skirt scrunched around your hips, weak legs on his broad shoulders with nicks and bruises scattered here and there, arms swinging aimlessly.

and if he got tired of hearing you, he could simply press his palm squarely against your mouth, muting the sound of your incessant fussing. if he really wanted to put you in your place, he could clasp his hands around your throat and clamp down onto your windpipe till all that escaped you was a pitiful, featherlight squeak.

jake could tell no one had ever properly put you in your place before, no one had ever stood up to you and reminded you of your level. you were in desperate need of a humbling and didn’t even know it yourself. no one better than jake for the role, he figured. a little cheerleader parading around in a uniform to feel different from everybody else she met didn’t scare him whatsoever.

the only thing saving you was essentially the fact that you were undeniably pretty and not necessarily to blame for the school’s superficial culture, which elevated girls like you in terms of status despite it having no real meaning or manifestations outside of campus, and put you on top when you were within the bubble.

but outside the bubble, away from the boys who thought of you as this beautiful, unattainable poison and the girls who enabled you with a faux sense of togetherness, you had no real identity, no real power, and no real worth.

and yet, maybe jake was contributing to the problem. maybe he had inadvertently become one of the people elevating you. because choking in the heat of the moment, he uttered your name, forgetting who he was with and where he was.

hands shoved at him, hard. at least, hard enough for him to be jolted out of his reverie, finally gazing into the eyes that seethed because of him. “did you just call me that evil witch’s name?” seoa barked.

jake winced. that was a fair reaction, all things considered. he wouldn’t have wanted to have been called your name out of everyone’s, either. he rubbed his nape. “well…”

“unbelievable,” seoa replied, scoffing. she got out of the bed and hurriedly began picking her clothes up from the floor, redressing herself.

jake exhaled a breath, mostly annoyed that his orgasm had been ruined, but still feeling a hint of sympathy. “seoa, wait,” he said, touching her shoulder.

seoa recoiled, pulling away. jake had never seen anyone be so ready to put on their pants after being with him, not even with a hell of a schedule after. “never touch me again,” she spat, walking out with her shoes in tow. “fuck you.”

jake ran a hand through his hair, watching her leave, and murmured under his breath, “god dammit.”

a few days later, while they were attending a festival, jay marched over to jake, draping an arm over his shoulder, and asked, “wanna tell me why seoa blocked all of us and she’s been glaring at me and mark since she got here?”

jake snickered, shaking his head in slight disbelief. he was over it by now, he figured she would be too. “i let a certain cheerleader’s name slip while i was balls deep inside her,” he confessed. which he wasn’t necessarily proud of, considering the only reason he even knew your name was because you’d saved your own contact on his phone.

jay’s brows furrowed, glancing around as if he was trying to spot you in the crowd like a heat-seeking missle. “who?”

rolling his eyes, jake grabbed the back of jay’s head with one hand and turned it in your general direction, hoping it would help. and jake knew it had when jay’s confusion melted into disgust. 

“oh, that bitch?” he asked, nose wrinkled.

jake chuckled, releasing his friend’s head. “she’s a bitch, but she’s pretty.”

jay couldn’t argue with that fact even if he’d wanted to. “yeah, i’ll give her that. cute in the face. she’s fake as hell, though. played jungwon like a fiddle. he did six months worth of her homework because she promised they’d get together.”

that was news to jake. he knew you were cruel, having had stories from sunoo and the like, but he never knew of your history with jungwon. if it could be called that. “did they fuck?” he couldn’t help but ask.

jay shook his head, taking a sip from the bottle in his hand before he answered, “he said she always turned him down. told him she was waiting for ‘the perfect moment.’”

now that was funny as hell. jake had only known you for a few weeks and yet even he quickly pieced together that you weren’t the romantic type. “well, that’s fucked up,” he said, happily accepting yet another reason to dislike you. “but he’s dumb as fuck if he did her homework for six months without getting a crumb of pussy in return.”

jay made a face, nodding. “yeah,” he exhaled, giving the impression that he’d wanted to defend jungwon. “but man, what possessed you to say her name while fucking the seoa? i need a good excuse. you just blew my shot with her.”

jake shrugged. “don’t have one. she approached me maybe three weeks ago asking me to do her homework, and i agreed.”

jay gawked. that didn’t sound like jake. like at all. “man, what? is she paying you?”

“oh, dividends,” jake quipped.

“oh, and in what? pussy?”

“nope.”

jay looked horrified. he was so damn dramatic. “then, why the hell are you doing her bidding? that doesn’t sound like you.”

it didn’t, not immediately, but jake had his reasons. “entertainment purposes,” he replied curtly.

jay shook his head, taking another swig of his drink. certainly, he was drinking, not smoking. “you’re becoming her pawn for entertainment purposes? unbelievable, bro.”

“chess, not checkers, jay.” jake smirked, putting a hand on jay’s shoulder. “you’ll see.”

▸ things good guys do 

“you’re lucky i was already out,” jake told you when you let him into your apartment. “it’s the middle of the night for fuck’s sake. what do you want?”

“oh, please,” you spat, damn near rolling your eyes. your arms were folded. “you get to call me over at the ungodly hour, but when i do it, it’s a problem?”

jake exhaled through his nose and ran a hand through his hair, wondering why he bothered to come here when he had no obligation to do your bidding, as jay had put it. but something told him that he wouldn’t have any regrets. “yeah, it is. now, what do you want?”

you were silent for a few moments, somewhat ashamed of the request you would ultimately make. you sighed, surrendering. “i need help with calculus,” you finally said.

jake’s shoulders drooped, eyes shrinking in a contemptuous disbelief. “seriously?”

“seriously,” you repeated, sitting down on your couch as your laptop screen glared back at you from the coffee table.

jake groaned, “i seriously don’t know how you even got into this school. can’t you do anything by yourself?”

you gawked, affronted. he made you sound like some incompetent, immature dickhead. “contrary to a weirdly popular belief, i’m actually really smart,” you insisted, having the transcripts to prove it. “but my professor sucks and i need an eighty-nine on my final to keep my A. and it’s not like you can walk in and take it for me because it’s proctored.”

jake shook his head and reminded, “you know this little agreement we have doesn’t include me tutoring you, right?”

“it didn’t include you assaulting me, either,” you retorted.

“you think that was assault?” jake asked, scoffing. he dropped beside you on your couch, the proximity instinctively making you suck in a breath. “if i wasn’t a good guy, i’d show you assault.”

scooting over to ensure maximum distance between your bodies, you argued, “good guys don’t call themselves good guys.”

“good guys have self-control,” jake replied matter-of-factly, resisting a chuckle. he didn’t make a move to touch you, but he noticed how tense you looked now that he was sitting beside you. “i’ll tutor you, but we’ll have to up the terms of our agreement.”

you swallowed sharply, throat bobbing. you had a feeling you weren’t going to enjoy these new terms. “what do you want?”

“a blowjob.”

“that’s disgusting,” you spat without a second thought, features contorting with repugnance.

jake quipped, “and so is your inability to do your school work without using and depending on every intelligent boy you meet, but hey, i’m sure you can’t help that.”

you sighed, exasperated, and cradled your face in your hands. was this seriously what your life had come to? giving a boy a blowjob in exchange for a pretty transcript?

jake grinned, appreciating the sight of you in distress. it was a sign, a good sign, and he intended to bring it out of you more and more, bleeding you absolutely dry. lowering a hand onto your thigh, he urged, “come on, bruise those little knees for me. don’t you bruise ‘em for cheer?”

“that’s not the same!” you whined. 

“of course, it’s not,” jake said, squeezing your thigh as his shoulders trembled with laughter. “cheer isn’t helping you graduate with flying colors.”

you desperately wanted him to be wrong, you were begging for him to be wrong, but you both knew that if he was, he wouldn’t have been here with you at the moment. not now, not three weeks ago, not ever. so you sucked it up, slamming down your laptop lid, and grumbled, “fine.”

maybe he didn’t come here for nothing, after all. grateful he’d trusted his gut, jake stood up and clutched your arm to pull you along with him. “come on, let’s go to your room. i like my blowjobs a little messy and i’m sure you don’t want to mess up your nice carpet.”

you snatched your arm away from him, hating his insistence on touching you for every little reason whenever he possibly could, even if it was insignificant. your mouth was taut as you begrudgingly headed for your bedroom.

it was obvious that you were sour. walking behind you, jake couldn’t help but chime, “glad to see that you can at least walk by yourself!”

you bristled in annoyance, wishing you could just get rid of him, but you knew it wouldn’t be wise to discard him so quickly. at least for now, he still held some kind of value.

jake walked in behind you, looking particularly radiant, and you hated that you knew why. hell, you hated the reason itself. “get on your knees,” he commanded.

normally, you would complain about him giving you orders as if you were his lap dog or something, but you just wanted to get this over with. you were already so over this entire week. you slowly dropped to your knees, trying to ignore how demeaning it felt. 

“good girl,” jake praised at your compliance. “now, look up at me with those pretty eyes and ask me to help you with calc. ask me nicely.”

you met his eyes, noticing the expectant glimmer in his gaze that you so badly wanted to knock off. but you weren’t dumb enough to incite violence against a grown man that walked around with his bulging muscles on display for all the world to see, and you didn’t doubt that he would hit you back. “jake, please help me with calculus,” you pleaded, choosing your battles.

jake hummed, satisfied. “you sound so pretty and sweet when you ask nicely, instead of demanding things. didn’t know you were capable of that,” he told you, running his fingers through your hair. “take it out. get me hard.”

your hands moved to his sweatpants, tugging at them enough to bring them down just shy of his knees, and doing the same with his underwear. he wasn’t hard yet, but that would be an easy fix; witnessing your state of pure anguish, watching you speak and move as if you were totally dejected, always excited him.

not to mention that the sight of you on your knees for him, the more he took it in, was arousing him even more than he thought it would. he had pictured it in his mind before, you serving him, pleasuring him, existing solely for him, but nothing could compare to the sight he beheld now.

at least, nothing other than you actually doing something rather than sitting there like an idiot. he liked taking control, but he figured you would take matters into your own hands, literally, when he gave the order. “do you need me to tell you what to do or something?” he asked, huffing irritably. “put your tongue on it. tease the head.”

your face and ears burned in ways they rarely did, but you nodded wordlessly and did as told, bracing your hands on his thighs and reluctantly pressing your tongue onto his tip, looking anywhere but his eyes as the muscle swirled around.

that amused jake to no end. at least for now, he would let it slide, not feeling the need to maintain eye contact with you at the moment. if he needed to, he would simply just grab a nice, thick fistful of your hair and yank it back to jolt your head up at him. he could still see your pretty, bare face, hair arranged messily at the top of your head with a few needless strands jutting out here and there.

he liked that. of course, he would have been more than enthusiastic to have you suck him off if you’d been all dolled up, making you ruin your makeup and undo at least an hour of careful, clean work, but he also just took pleasure in seeing this natural, undone part of you. he wanted to see you for what you really were.

it didn’t take long for him to get hard. with all his thoughts revolving around you and the feel of your tongue on the head of his dick, that was a no-brainer. “good, now put it in your mouth. take as much as you can and not an inch less,” jake instructed.

widening your mouth, you accepted his stout, heavy cock into your mouth, lips forming a tight suction around the head and steadily advancing down his shaft. bit by bit, inch by nightmarishly thick inch. you had made it maybe halfway down his shaft when you quickly discovered your limit.

jake was surprisingly content, despite the fact that you definitely still had a few more inches to go. “there you go,” he said, giving your head a soft pat of approval. “suck. go slow. and don’t you dare let me feel any teeth.” 

your heart was thumping out of something you could only understand as fear, even though jake hadn’t done anything to warrant it yet. inhaling through your nose, you tried to level your breathing, taking your time to draw in his cock lest you made a mistake. the hint of warning in jake’s voice, in spite of the calmness, was clear.

jake, on the other hand, was reaching elysian heights. faint grunts of, “fuck,” escaped his pink lips, large hands at his sides reflexively tensing into tightly clenched fists in need of something to grab, hips just barely stuttering. your mouth was hot and wet, with the added benefit of your torturous tongue pressed against his size.

there was a pinch of desperacy in your actions that overcame the resistance; a desperacy not necessarily to please him, but to appease him. accidents were the last thing you could afford and eliciting his frustration was the last thing you wanted.

“lick,” jake said, chest undulating. “up and down.”

with a hum, you started drawing long, wet lines back and forth on his veiny shaft, almost as if you were tracing the bold veins with your tongue. jake’s reaction was instantaneous, deep groans the only thing you could hear other than the wet sound of your mouth on his cock, sucking and licking. 

jake’s eyes fluttered closed. “fuck. yeah, like that.”

you pressed your tongue against the underside of his dick, lingering in each spot for a moment before you continued, mostly because he seemed to like it when you did. which was your north star in an empty, dead night, because you had not a clue what the hell you were doing and you were afraid of making it obvious somehow.

if jake could tell, he didn’t make it known. he was in a world of his own, all too happily reaping the pleasure from your mouth as if it was a dream come true for him. “kiss my balls. lick it.”

you stifled the sigh you were half tempted to let loose, pulling off his cock with a wet sound and a string of saliva connecting from the sticky tip to your glossy lips. moving your head, you took a moment to steel yourself before peppering tiny, soft kisses along his balls, down to his scrotum.

it wasn’t the most dignifying thing you had ever done, it may have even been the least, but your aching, sore jaw appreciated the break from sucking. you dragged your tongue over his testicles, tasting nothing but rubbery flesh. you were too busy avoiding his eyes to notice, but his face was tensing with pleasure, lips parting in low murmurs.

compared to when you first started, jake was drastically harder now, massive, monstrous cock nearly bursting at the veins with precum leaking out from the thick tip. had your goal been to take all of him entirely, the sheer size of him would have immediately overwhelmed you.

“switch to your hand and go back to sucking me off,” jake said, firm yet quiet. it sounded like he was trying to restrain himself, barely holding it together.

at least you were a fast learner. teasing the head of his cock, you gave it a few slow, tentative licks before you began to take him into your mouth again, all the while gently fondling his balls with your fingers. jake groaned, arching into your touch. he couldn’t help himself.

you could taste the vicious amount of precum staining your tongue and you didn’t know how to describe it, other than slightly tart. the flavor blended with that of your own saliva, lingering on the roof of your mouth and the warm flesh underneath the flap of your tongue, mild as could be.

at least it wasn’t downright awful. you had heard stories before, not that you’d ever known what to make of them, or even pictured yourself being inside of them. if a month ago, someone had told you that you’d be on your knees for a man - for anyone - you would have said they were delusional.

jake’s patience had worn thin and when you least expected it, he hauled you into the air, making you cry out in surprise just as you had the first time he’d lifted you into his buff, meaty arms. he tossed you onto the bed, just shy of the headboard, and suddenly straddled your chest. you gasped out a breath.

“open up,” jake said, cock positioned right in front of your mouth.

not that he gave you the time to obey him, because he pressed himself against your slightly parted lips and forced them wider, entering your mouth on his own. your face strained, perfectly threaded brows tugging down into a discontented arch.

when you tried to pull away, jake grabbed the sides of your face and pushed you onto his shaft with trembling hands, making you take him and leaving no room for escape, not until he decided he was done with you. there was only one concern present in his mind and that was getting himself off.

tears stung your eyes, that same implacable feeling you had when he’d dragged his tongue over the expanse of your soft, shaved legs and bare, sweaty chest finding you again in the most of unwanted company. jake scoffed, spitefully tugging at your hair. “you know what’s funny? you’re such a fucking crybaby. you can’t take even half of what you give to others.”

chin flush against his scrotum and your nose not even an inch away from his bush, you almost gagged. the slurping sounds were humiliating, loud, wet squelching with every other big gulp making you want to shrink. however, jake loved it, obsessing over the idea of making a mess out of you. the sound went straight to his dick.

jake held your face in that low position, deeper than you’d ever taken him so far. “i’m really not that bad of a guy, you know,” jake said, sounding like he truly believed it. you could have scoffed, if not for obvious reasons. “you just bring it out of me. i’m really just treating you like how you treat everybody else.”

he made you sound like something straight out of hell and you couldn’t help but think it was an unfair justification for something that felt too close to punishment. he obviously thought he knew you better than he did and it made you aggravated. that, or he somehow thought he was better than you.

there was a fleeting second of relief when jake unmounted your chest and let you breathe, only to be crushed again when he dragged you by your wrists to the edge of your mattress, leaving you in the deep end. your eyes struggled to grasp with the flipped image of him nearing you, cock back down your throat before you could even blink.

though his hips thankfully had been moving at a calmer, steady pace before, despite forcing himself deeper than you could handle, he began to thrust more urgently into your mouth with the new change, embedding himself even further into your throat than you knew was possible. 

you cried harder, hating every second of it. the salty, bitter tang of your tears mingled with the tainted taste of spit and sharp bite of precum that had come to stain your chin and cupid’s bow. the vigor of his movements was overwhelming, overpowering.

“that’s it, cheerleader. cry harder,” jake taunted, tracing his thumb over your face to swipe at the trail of tears. all the while his hips were moving faster, harder.

it felt like such a mockery, him doing that. a feigned act of sympathy while perpetuating the torment that was reducing you to tears as a selfish means of achieving pleasure of his own. 

then, his hands wandered down to your breasts, slipping inside your night shirt and mauling your chest. running his hands in a circle, his thumb brushed the erect, colored nipples and he clasped his hands around your chest, squeezing your breasts. “fuck, i’m close,” he grunted, grip tightening, pace hastening, force increasing. 

with how close he was, your nose was squarely against his the flesh of his balls, effectively cutting off your exhale. your heart thudded, racing and pounding. tensing with panic, your hands frantically moved, striking at his navel and thighs. even your legs were in alarm, unstill towards the other end of the bed. 

jake groaned, smacking your cheek. another slap followed the sizzle, straight against your chest. “calm the fuck down,” he hissed, raising his arm in preparation to hit you again. “i’ll let you breathe as soon as i come, so you better not get in the way, if you know what’s good for you.”

even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stay calm. your body physically couldn’t handle it, responding the only way it knew how, trying to protect you. somebody had to. you closed your eyes, face warm with tears and panic, and you tried to brace your hands on the sheets, anything to comfort and stabilize yourself.

it got to a point where jake couldn’t hold back anymore and he climaxed with a prolonged, guttural groan, hips still brutally smacking into your mouth as he painted your tongue and the back of your throat with his cum. he went as far as to grab your head again, forcing himself onto you as deep as he could go, and demanding, “swallow it.”

like hell you would. you pushed him away, coughing and choking as soon as you did, drops of cum pooling from your mouth and some of it flying here and there in the midst of your coughing fit.

irritated, jake pressed his tongue against the roof his mouth. “you’re so fucking useless,” he groaned, grabbing his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and quickly turning on the camera. “look at you. sitting here choking on my cum. you want it again, don’t you?”

you sat up, nearly tumbling over the edge of your bed from the intense convulsing, and turned to face the other way as you hunched over, tightly clasping your sheets. “fuck off, you got what you wanted!” you rasped.

jake laughed. you sounded so gravelly. “you’re right. i did,” he replied, putting back on his pants and pocketing his phone. “so, tutoring. i’ll see you tomorrow. nighty night, cheerleader.”

he gave you a pat on the head and turned, heading straight for the door.

▸ hard feelings

something about today was different than usual. 

when you woke up, you had felt a shift in the air, but you’d chalked it up to being nervous about the final you had in three hours.

but when you finally went to go take it, however, you quickly realized that the unsettling feeling you had was not simply pre-exam jitters. it was something much more sinister than that. with the status you held on campus, you were used to being watched and gawked at, but this was different.

it felt like everybody and their mother was looking at you.

you were confused. you had been the subject of this much attention before, but only once; it was a couple years back when someone had spread a dirty, foul rumor about you. there was a social media page for your school called top ten, mostly used to shame women for their sexual exploits, but some men made their way on it too. that was how you heard about sunghoon’s clap rumor.

long story short, a rumor about you had originated there and it had taken you weeks to clear your name. but by that time, there was already another slut of the week. you were lucky to have your situation not only be false and debunked, but word of mouth. only the most unlucky of people, like hyeri, got images or videos of themselves posted.

and you were a community favorite. you would understand if you were new, but you had built a reputation around here. why would anybody believe floating rumors about you now?

but the abundance of stares didn’t end there. even in the cafe, you had caught someone watching you a little too hard to be a casual leer of admiration. and you were determined to find out why.

fortunately, you were able to find jennie and roseanne walking and talking in the courtyard, and you called out their names to stop them.

jennie turned first, and you watched her smile drop in real time. she glanced around, frantic, as if she was worried about someone watching her too.

roseanne smiled thinly, halfheartedly lifting her hand to wave. “hey,” she greeted quietly, matching jennie’s nerves.

they knew something you didn’t and it was glaringly obvious. “what’s going on?” you asked. “everyone’s looking at me and i know i’m not going crazy yet.”

jennie and roseanne glanced between each other, as if they both had bad news but neither of them wanted to be the one to tell you. after a few seconds, jennie groaned and said, “you might want to check top ten.”

your brows furrowed. you, on top ten? again? god, people could be so infuriating. “ugh, what rumor did they spread about me this time?”

jennie winced, which only made you more anxious. “it’s not just a rumor,” she whispered. “…it’s a video.”

“video?” you echoed in disbelief. that didn’t make sense. you hadn’t been with anyone except… except jake. you tensed with anger.

roseanne opened her phone to show you the video that had been posted. it was an anonymous submission that claimed to be a recording of you. unfortunately, it was you, bits of your chest exposed from jake reaching into your shirt and drops of cum landing there as you fought for breath. your face wasn’t visible, but there were some other distinguishing signs, like your hair and skin and sheets.

your heart thudded and your shoulders went cold, but your eyes were scalding. you were well aware that jake didn’t like you, you didn’t exactly love him either, but you never thought he would stoop low enough to hurt you like this.

“i’m sorry,” roseanne apologized, dropping her phone in her purse when you were done. the video was only a few seconds long, but the damage was forever. “but don’t worry. it’s not like it’s top three worthy. everyone will move on next week.”

jennie nodded in agreement and briefly patted your back. “yeah. we’ll hang out again when this all blows over, i promise.”

then, they walked away. leaving you reeling with ache and betrayal. your friends didn’t want to be seen with you anymore. you were an embarrassment.

you swallowed the bitter feeling scorching up your throat and tapped your pockets for your phone, knowing there was one person you needed to see. 

you: you and i need to talk. right now.

jake: about what?

you: don’t play dumb, i know you sent that video in!

jake: maybe u should have swallowed

you: you know what, i don’t need you. i never have. and i don’t want your help anymore. just leave me alone

jake: [one attachment]

jake: you sure about that? because i’m sure there’s plenty of people that would love to see the version with your face in it

you gawked, hiding your phone screen against your chest while glancing around to make sure no one could see.

adjusting your brightness, you unlocked your phone again and texted him back hurriedly.

you: why are you doing this?! i’ve never done anything to you

jake: this is bigger than just you and me

jake: now if you don’t want everyone to see that pretty face, come put those lips around me again and we can work something out

and that was how it started. though you hadn’t had the upper hand in weeks, this was the moment you completely lost it. what was once an arrangement for him to help you in exchange for your attention became a hole of misery that you couldn’t dig yourself out of.

one blowjob became two, and two became three until you started to immediately recognize what it meant when you saw his name appear on your screen, knowing what it was before he even asked. not that he ever technically asked. it was always a command, a claim to your body wherever and whenever he wanted.

if you tried to be strong, if you tried to break free of him, he always threatened to make sure that recordings of you on your knees for him went up for all the world to see and no one would ever think of you the same way again. he was more than willing to taint the pretty, perfect image of yourself that you presented to the world.

you felt stuck, trapped. isolated with nowhere to go, no way out. you tried to conjure up a way to escape this situation, but you couldn’t think of anything feasible. if you wanted to protect what was left of your social life and dignity, if you wanted to go outside without being ashamed, your only option was to be compliant.

no matter how many late nights and sore throats you had to go through.

you were in the middle of dozing off, your head leaning off to the side, when the sound of your phone ringing suddenly jolted you awake. you were tempted to ignore it until you saw the contact and begrudgingly pressed the phone to your ear. “hello?” you grumbled.

“i’ve been texting you,” jake said, sounding miffed.

you sighed, glancing over at the clock on your nightstand. “it’s literally two in the morning,” you complained. “i just got home from cheer practice and i’m trying to study for my last final. i haven’t even showered yet.”

“aw, poor thing,” jake crooned, pretending to care. “come over.”

you heartless, selfish bastard, you snapped in your head. of course, you were in no place to say that out loud, so you settled for a calm, “okay,” and hung up.

stifling a yawn, you grabbed your keys and lazily stepped into a nearby pair of shoes, stretching your arms above your head before willing yourself to get up from your desk chair. then, you accidentally scraped your leg against the bottom drawer of your desk, which you’d accidentally left open. 

“ow!” you cried out, bending down a little. “god, why does this world hate me? what did i do wrong?”

it was a wonder you managed to make it to jake’s apartment without getting into a wreck, although at this point, you wouldn’t care if you had as long as it killed you. or put you into an indefinite coma.

on the other hand, jake seemed strangely enthusiastic to see you and looked full of life and energy. “there you are, cheerleader,” he said, pulling you in to hug you from behind. he led you over to his couch, much like he always did. 

you covered your mouth with your elbow as you yawned. “can we get this over with? i’m sleepy.”

jake chuckled. “i don’t want you to suck me off. not right now.”

your brows furrowed, wondering if you had heard him right. if not for that, then why were the hell were you here?

“i’m sad,” jake said, not even attempting to keep the smug smile off his face. “i need you to cheer me up.”

you blinked at him like he was stupid. “cheer… you up?”

jake nodded his head, glancing you over with a grin. you looked like hell. partly because you were so obviously exhausted, but he knew he’d been having an effect on you too. “yeah, cheer me up. you’re a cheerleader,” he reminded, sounding proud of himself. “i want you to do your routine for me.”

you gawked in disbelief and whined, “i’m not even in my uniform.”

“so?” jake asked. “those bones might be tired, but they still work. matter of fact, take everything off.”

you were quick to exclaim, “what the hell? jake, can i please just do it later? everything hurts.”

“take everything off,” jake repeated, his voice more stern this time. “and move your ass.”

defeated, you reluctantly began to peel off your clothes, ignoring the way jake shamelessly ogled you for the sake of your own comfort and tugging your shirt from above your head. you couldn’t even look at him as you abashedly stepped out of your shorts and panties.

what was even more mortifying was having to perform every stupid little routine for him with your entire body on display and your chest bouncing with every motion. putting on the sweet, forced smile and calling out the chants you’d memorized, all the while ignoring how your bones ached.

when you were done, he made you sit in his lap so he could touch you as he pleased, paying no mind to the way you squirmed uncomfortably.

you cried enough tears to occupy a sixth ocean the next day. you weren’t exactly sure why. you just remembered miraculously waking up in your bed, sitting up and staring into empty space, and the water crashing down after a few minutes. it took you even longer to notice you were sobbing.

after a couple of meaningless hours, you got the random urge to call your mom, yearning to hear her voice. “mommy?” you said when she picked up.

“she calls,” your mother chirped, pleasantly surprised. “hi, baby. i was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about little ole’ me. you know, you never come see me anymore.”

you forced yourself to laugh, trying to strip your voice of the agony so that she wouldn’t notice. “i know. i’m sorry,” you apologized quietly. “i’ll come see you soon.”

“you better,” your mother snapped playfully, no real malice in her voice. “now, what’d you call me for? and don’t say just to check up on me, because that’s a damn lie.”

“i miss you,” you confessed. 

“a lie don’t care who tell it.”

“ma,” you groaned, knowing she was just messing around. “i swear i do.”

“mm-hm,” your mother hummed. you could already picture her in your head, eyeing you with suspicion, arms folded over her chest. “let me guess why you really called. you’re having boy trouble.”

your eyes flickered in surprise. how did she know? you doubted it was exactly what she was thinking, but she was close enough. “yeah, something like that.”

there was no doubt that your mother sounded excited. you had always seem thoroughly uninterested in boys and dating, and while she was thankful when you were a teenager, it was a little worrying now. “it’s about time,” she said, clasping her hands together. “tell me all about it.”

you sighed, wondering how you could tell her about jake without making her fret. she had gotten all pumped, you didn’t want to tear her down and ruin everything. “well, there’s this guy i met almost two months ago. at first, i didn’t feel anything for him. he was just another boy, you know. someone i could keep around for a good time, not a long one.”

your mother hummed again. you could hear metal pans clacking against her counter and assumed she was cooking. she always did that. 

taking a deep breath, you continued, “but everything changed. he’s different from every other guy i’ve dealt with. he doesn’t just do what i say because i say so. and as the weeks passed, he’s started listening to me less and less than he already was.”

your mother chuckled. “and you didn’t like that, huh? got your mother’s stubborn heart and indomitable spirit.”

in truth, you didn’t think you had half of your mother’s strength, but you would never tell her that. as far as she knew, everything was going perfectly in the life you’d created here on campus. and it probably was the last time you’d spoken to her. “yeah,” you replied, wishing that were true. “i don’t like it. he makes me feel something i’ve never felt before.”

“he makes you feel powerless,” your mother told you. “he’s got you feeling weak because he’s the first man you’ve ever met willing to stand up to you. trust me, i was surprised the first time too. that’s how you got here.”

“ma,” you groaned with a wince.

she laughed. the sound made you happy, something you hadn’t been so certain you were capable of feeling anymore. “i’m just keeping it real.”

you thought about her words. she may have been way off in her perception of what this relationship between you and jake really was, but she wasn’t wrong about how he made you feel. weak, powerless. suddenly, this consuming feeling you’d been having for weeks finally had a name, and yet that made it even harder to come to terms with.

because you didn’t want to be powerless. you wanted to be in charge, in control. you hated when things didn’t go your way, and more importantly, you hated when there was nothing you could do about it. it was supposed to be you wielding power over people’s head, not being crushed beneath the weight of tyranny.

and it was then you fully realized the scope of your feelings; you absolutely hated jake sim.

  ▸ cheerleader? breed her! 

standing there in a skimpy dress, face done and your feet clamped in heels that made you four inches taller, you didn’t feel like yourself.

you thought that you would. in truth, you hadn’t feel like yourself in months. today marked a little over two months since you made the mistake of beginning that agreement with jake and you regretted it more than anything. he had completely ruined you, your life, and everything that made you feel whole.

there were pieces of yourself that you would never get back, thanks to him. it was true that everyone had forgotten about the ordeal regarding the recording of you, but not without cost. it was a price you were still paying everyday; even when you weren’t on your knees or otherwise commiting demeaning acts for the sake of jake’s entertainment, you were hurting and mourning yourself.

you were starting to wonder if it was worth it. obviously, you liked being respected amongst your fellow students, but you were no longer certain if their respect was worth the price of your sanity. it was hard for you to even have basic interactions without giving away how incredibly lonely and isolated you felt, how trapped and doomed you were. helpless and powerless.

jake came up behind you, startling you. he was like a wolf and you were a little lamb masquerading as a wolf. “there you are, baby,” he said, snaking his hands around your waist. he seemed to love doing that. “did you know our anniversary was a few days ago?”

you scoffed. the two-month anniversary of the worst decision of your life to date. there was nothing you would’ve give to undo it. doing your homework yourself would have spared you so much unnecessary pain. “stop doing that,” you whined, scanning the party. “someone will see.”

jake chuckled, clearly not giving a damn. “unlike someone, i don’t really care what people think about me.”

you wished you didn’t care. there would always be a part of you that cared, that was so afraid of what people could say about her that she would do anything to tailor her image perfectly. matter of fact, it was all you had cared about in high school, and every year after that was spent maintaining the brand.

jake’s hand went from your waist to your ass, making you tense in his grasp. “you know, i think i deserve some kind of compensation for putting up with you for two months.”

you deserved that too. freedom. being unshackled from his cruel, unrelenting orders was the one thing you wanted most and the one thing he refused to give you. “don’t you have your compensation almost every day?” you asked irritably.

“that’s not nearly enough,” jake insisted, squeezing your ass.

god, how greedy could someone be? it was like he wanted to bleed you dry until there was nothing left.

“you know what i want?” jake asked huskily, leaning into your ear. “i wanna fuck you.”

your eyes widened a little. you had hoped this day would never come, even though you weren’t oblivious to the fact that jake had steadily gotten bolder in his interactions with you, the things he made you do for his satisfaction becoming entirely more erotic. 

grabbing your arm, jake started to lead you away. “come on, let’s go.”

you rooted in place, nearly stumbling. you didn’t want to go anywhere with him, especially if it meant putting up with his insatiable urges. “jake, i don’t want to,” you said, trying to push at him.

jake scoffed, wondering when you would realize that he didn’t care what you wanted and you had no way of winning. “if you want to make a scene in front of all these lovely people, be my guest,” he hissed in your ear.

panicked, you glanced around the crowd in search of someone that could save you. it was like everybody was looking at you until you actually needed them to. 

then, you locked eyes with jungwon. matter of fact, it seemed like he’d been looking at you much before you’d even glanced in his general direction. he saw you, saw the way jake was holding you roughly, saw the obvious stiffness on your face, saw the pleading look in your eyes; but ultimately, jungwon saw the image of you letting him down after bleeding him dry for half a year, and he turned away.

your shoulders slumped in defeat.

jake started dragging you toward the stairs, pushing past a bunch of drunk people dancing on each other. your heart was thumping, and your whole body was rigid with nerves as you tried to think of a way out of this even though you knew there was no option without consequences.

just your luck, the bathroom jake hauled you too was empty. he pushed you in and locked the door, pressing you against the counter. you gasped and glanced at your reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing yourself. “jake, please,” you whispered, trying to plead with him. “please, don’t do this.”

jake didn’t seem moved by your begging, but he did, however, appear amused. “why are you acting so sensitive about this after all we’ve done together? it’s like you’ve never gotten fucked or something.”

you swallowed, not saying a word. 

the silence was very loud, very telling. jake arched a brow, a realization dawning on him. “you really have never been fucked,” he said, surprised. “damn, i should have figured that out when you were acting like you never sucked dick before.”

your face flushed with heat. it wasn’t like you were necessarily embarrassed about it, not until now. you had always taken it as something to pride yourself on, being fuckable but untouchable. “you say that like it’s a bad thing,” you replied, glancing down at the sink to avoid eye contact.

jake chuckled. it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but he had been convinced that you were completely pretending to be a goody two-shoes. to know there was at least one percent of you that was still pure amazed him. he lifted the skirt of your dress with his hand and brought it between your legs, asking, “what, you just never find anyone worthy enough for your perfect, sacred pussy?”

you gasped out when he touched you there. his fingers circled your clothed cunt, thumb digging into your inner thigh. feeling scandalized, you grumbled, “maybe i’m just not interested.”

jake shook his head, astonished by the amount of attitude you still had after all these months and determined to break it out of you. “and maybe i just don’t care if you’re interested or not.”

it went without saying that jake always made you feel like some kind of object, but this was next level. “this is dehumanizing!” you exclaimed. 

hearing you, of all people, talk about dehumanizing made for an interesting conversation. big, calloused hand pressing harder into you, he asked tauntingly, “doesn’t feel good, does it?”

your glossy, painted lips were parted, unable to breathe through your nose. your eyes burned with the threat of tears and it was becoming second nature for them to shed whenever jake was nearby. “i don’t understand,” you whimpered, trying to free yourself, but to no avail. “why are you doing this to me? what have i ever done to deserve this?”

jake could feel you struggling, trying to push him off you, but all it did was move your hips against his rapidly hardening cock. he groaned, grabbing hold of your ass and pushing you further back against him. “fuck, just like that,” he growled. “haven’t i told you this already? this is bigger than you and me.”

it wasn’t lost on you that jake obviously had heard stories about you from other people, stories of happenings you probably couldn’t deny, but it had nothing to do with him. “look, if you’re doing all this to get back at me because i hurt one of your friends or something, i’m sorry, i really am. but i can’t do this anymore, jake. i want to stop, please. please let me go on with my life.”

“what a privileged response,” jake hissed without concealing his vitriol. at the same time, he kept palming you over your panties, noticing them beginning to cling to your cunt, and tore your underwear to the side to insert a pair of fingers inside. “what about all those girls whose lives you ruined? i’m sure they wanted you to stop. and you didn’t until they were too humiliated to show their faces around here again and you had no choice.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat. he knew about the girls? “jake, i haven’t done that since freshman year,” you told him, desperately trying to reason with him.

two loud, harsh smacks echoed in the tiny, crowded space of the bathroom, followed by a gasp consequently. your pussy stung, your head jerking around to look at jake. “do you really think that matters?” he asked, grabbing your hair to turn you back around just as quickly, as if you didn’t deserve to look at him. “you think that matters when the pain you’ve done to them is permanent? they don’t forget. and they damn sure don’t forgive you.”

you tensed, hating the way your walls were gripping and gushing around his fingers. “so what? you think you’re god or something? is this you punishing me for my sins? you’re not exactly what i would call a saint, either.”

“me and you, we’re not the same,” jake remarked, a nip to his tone as if you needed the reminder of how much he disliked you. “you only pick on people that you think are below you somehow. people you think won’t fight back.”

“i know i’m not a good person,” you admitted in between gasps, thighs straining as his fingers pumped into your pussy harder, faster, reaching places you’d never touched on your own. “ i know i don’t deserve to be happy. maybe i don’t even deserve to be treated with respect, but please leave me this one thing. spare me just this once.”

jake laughed cruelly, pulling his fingers out of your drenched hole and smearing your juices all over your folds and thighs. his finger unintentionally swiped over your sensitive clit, making your legs quiver and your stomach tighten, sucking in itself.

“damn, baby. you really know how to hurt my feelings,” jake said, voice dripping with sarcasm. he withdrew his fingers, bringing them into his mouth for a taste. “you don’t want me to fuck you that bad?”

your heart was spiking with dread, thumping belligerently in your chest, your ears, and between your legs. no one had ever made you feel so vanquished.

“take my dick out,” jake said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “hurry up.”

you sighed anguishedly, turning around to undo his pants and slip his aching dick out of its confinements. for months, jake had been suppressing the urge to fuck you, wanting to wait for the moment where it would be most pivotal.

getting a hold of your throat, jake roughly yanked you flush against him the second you whirled back around to face the tiny bathroom counter, making you stand tall against his chest. his voice was almost as rough as the hands that held you. “put it in.”

you gawked, shaking your head.

his fingers tightened dangerously around your windpipe, making your damp eyes widen and your jaw slack against his whitening knuckles, maybe half a wheeze making its way out your throat before he warned, “if i have to fucking tell you again, i’m gonna crush every bone in your goddamn neck.”

with no other option, you meekly reached behind you to grasp him in your quivering hand, aimlessly steering him to your hole and sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as the tip brushed past your dripping folds. jake released a shaky breath, slapping your hand away and rutting his hips into you from behind, sheathing himself inside in one go.

he slackened his unforgiving grip on your throat, shoving you back against the counter none too gently, but you still felt like you couldn’t breathe when he entered you, a mangled whimper echoing out. your fingers desperately braced the edges of the counter for purchase as you tried to will yourself to inhale, but it was like you were choking.

jake had a death grip on your thighs, forcibly pushing them apart a little more as he coated himself with the creamy, hot wetness of your unwanted arousal. “mm, hard to believe you don’t secretly want me when you’re sucking me in like this, baby,” he said, proud.

you shook your head in denial, face flushing with a heat that spread to your ears and neck. it didn’t help that there were beads of salty, hot tears pouring down your face and reducing your vision to one big, hazy blur. you didn’t want him, not even a little bit. but you couldn’t control the way your body was responding.

the lewd, wet smack of his cock thrusting deeply into your tight cunt rang out so loudly that you wanted nothing more than to hide into oblivion and never be seen again, mortified. it made things seem so much different than they were. his long, thick cock was stretching you beyond the cusp your limits and making you gape.

“i’m so nice to you,” jake said, tipping his head back. you could see his chest rising and falling through his clothes, his body taut with pleasure and excitement. “i’ve been holding back for so long, trying not to fuck you. won’t keep me out this pussy now. i’m gonna fuck you till your legs give out. have you at practice limping.”

your knees, wobbly as they already were, began knocking into the cabinets at the bottom of the sink. you winced your eyes closed as your fingers curled around the edge of the counter roughly enough to change the color around your knuckles, hoping to think of something, anything, to take you out of the moment.

but it was too hard. you couldn’t ignore the throb of your gushing walls as they kneaded his cock, making him grunt in your ear as he leaned over your backside. you couldn’t ignore the faint sting of his nails stabbing your hips and his heavy palm slapping repeatedly against your ass. and you definitely couldn’t ignore the dirtiness staining you from head to toe.

sure, it felt good, his body rocking against yours steadily, but it didn’t feel right. many nights you had pictured what losing your virginity would be like, both the way that it was supposed to look and the way that you were more inclined to, but this was neither; it was heartless, it was punishing, and it was brutal.

jake grabbed you by your hair and forced you to look into the mirror, yanking your head up. “there it is,” he spat, words sounding painfully familiar. “there’s the real you.”

your hair was messy from him tugging it every which way, treating you like a doll to mishandle. your makeup was ruined from your sobbing, the path of your tears harsh against everything else. your eyes were red and your right lash looked like it was barely holding on, the effect of rubbing at your face.

jake watched you take in the destroyed sight of yourself, practically hearing the critical thoughts hopping in your mind. “this is what you really are. this is what you’re sucking my dick to keep hidden from the world. is it worth it, baby? or do you just like the way i taste on your tongue?”

no, it wasn’t worth it. you were beginning to understand that now. he was taking too much from you, too much of your peace and too much of your sanity. maybe it would be better to be judged and lonely but free than to be loved by people whose opinion of you could change on a dime anyway at the expense of your soul. 

your pride had been buried a long time ago, brutally murdered in her sleep. “jake, please stop. i’m uncomfortable,” you complained, tearing your eyes away from your reflection in shame.

jake smacked your ass again, making you cry out sharply. “you just love being the victim when it’s convenient for you, huh?”

“i’m sorry!” you whimpered. “i don’t know what you want me to do. what do you want? just tell me.”

jake snickered, running his hands over your hips and waist to knead the flesh. then, he brushed your hair out of your face, nibbling at the skin behind your ear before growling, “you know what i want, cheerleader? i want to assassinate all there is that you love about yourself and leave everything else untouched, so that you understand not why everybody hates you, but why nobody loves you.”

those words hit you straight in the gut. for the first time, you had no retort, no comeback. 

hips beginning to move faster, jake continued, “the boys don’t love you, they just want to fuck you. they would kill to be as deep inside you as i am. the girls sure as hell don’t love you. they either want to be you, or they resent you for beating their asses. and don’t get me started on those girls you call friends.”

“jake, stop,” you whispered, an agony vicious enough to rip through flesh tearing you straight in half. 

but jake didn’t listen. he wasn’t done, not until he made his point. “don’t think i didn’t notice how lonely you were for the whole week everybody was talking shit about you. they didn’t want to touch you with a six foot pole, did they? they don’t want to be seen with you unless it gives them a good rep.”

there was a pang in your chest. you didn’t want to admit it, but that cut deep. you had heard people say mean things about you before, it was to expected when you were an emblem of popularity on campus, but few things had reached you where it hurt.

jake stroked your messy cheek, almost with affection. “but it’s okay. because you want to know something, baby? it was hard for me to admit it to myself, but you truly fascinate me. i can’t get you out of my head sometimes. you piss me off every time without fail, but i keep coming back to you. i like you, baby. if no one else does. you grew on me.”

you weren’t sure if that was supposed to make you feel better, but it didn’t. if anything, you only felt more heartbroken and wounded not only by his words, but by your inability to counter them. it truly dawned on you, right then, just how alone you were.

jake threw his head back, grunting. his hips were moving with a mind of their own, eager to finish. “fuck, i’m gonna come.”

your eyes went wide in panic, remembering that he had gone in bareback. 

“jake, don’t…”

before you could even finish your statement, jake clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling your protests into his pale palm. “you know what guys at my school used to say about cheerleaders?” he asked, obviously not expecting a response. “‘see a cheerleader, breed a cheerleader.’ ‘cheerleader? breed her.’”

you thrashed, but it was pointless. those thick, burly biceps of jake’s were one of the first things you noticed about him and they weren’t just for display. he held you in place as he quickened his pace again, his thrusts unrelenting.

with a couple more quick yet shockingly rhythmic thrusts, jake emptied his load deep, deep inside you. he moaned, moving his hands from your mouth to your hips to keep himself steady as he reeled from the pleasure of a mind-numbing orgasm. “goddamn,” he cursed, panting for breath.

you stifled a small noise as you felt his warmth flooding into you, unsure how to feel at this point. 

to your surprise, jake started fucking you again, never once daring to pull out as if he was determined to fuck every drop of his sticky cum as deep inside you as it could reach. his stringy, thick load gathered on his dick and inside your pussy, leaking down your thighs as he kept going.

you gasped out, moans involuntarily leaving you as you were stuffed full of him over and over. you didn’t mean to, but it was impossible to control.

then, jake stuck a hand between your legs and rolled his thumb over your clit, which didn’t help. you cried out, tensing. “jake, stop! it’s sensitive.”

“that’s the point, dummy,” jake replied, stimulating your clit with his hand while simultaneously pumping himself into you from behind.

your core tightened, heat wafting over you as your chest heaved wildly. “what are you doing?” you stammered. 

jake smiled, watching in the mirror how your face tensed with a blend of confusion and ecstasy that you couldn’t rein. “you really think i’m an asshole, huh? i’m trying to make you come. relax and let me.”

you shook your head. you didn’t want to come, not for him, and most definitely not on his cock for him to feel every unintentional shudder of your pussy as it gushed and pulsed with hot, sweet release; that would be embarrassing.

that made jake chuckle. “no? you don’t wanna come for me, baby?” he asked, furrowing his brows playfully as he tilted your face back up to the mirror with a push of your jaw. “come on, let go. you keep saying i’m not a good guy, but you shoot me down when i try to be nice.”

you moaned again, against your own reason and better judgment. “please,” you rasped with half a breath.

“please, what?” jake asked, rubbing you with just a pinch more force. “do you even know?”

god, you hated him; you absolutely despised him. but damn, if it didn’t feel good to have someone touch you after you’d spent so long avoiding sex like it was something to be ashamed of.

and this? this was definitely something you were ashamed of.

and yet the most shameful moment, perhaps, was when you finally couldn’t resist the pleasure of his big, long fingers twirling around your sensitive nub and his brutal hips smacking into you with a vengeance, clamping around him as you orgasmed with a loud cry and the heat shot through every corner of your body.

“shit,” jake hissed, the feel of you finishing around him draining the cum from his balls for a second time.

your jaw slacked, overwhelmed by how you felt completely and utterly stuffed, ropes of his cum filling you to the hilt. jake thrusted into you a little more, sending a flare through your back and shoulders, until he stilled for good. you could hear him panting behind you.

after a moment or two, jake pulled out. hand between your thighs, he gathered some of his stringy release on his finger and brought it up to your lips. “open up. don’t make me say it again.”

you opened your mouth wide enough for him to insert two of his cum-coated fingers inside. then, you sucked at them and swallowed it down, knowing those would be the next words to leave his mouth. 

jake raised a brow, pleasantly surprised. he took his time to withdraw his fingers, enjoying the sensation of you licking them clean. “see, i knew you loved eating my cum.”

your face burned, but you didn’t have the energy to deny it. not after that. it felt like there was a gaping hole in your chest, a void that would never be filled. 

“you’re learning,” jake commented, humming in satisfaction. “good girl. you know, maybe one day we can get along. don’t you think?”

“yeah,” you murmured weakly. at this point, you would just go along with whatever he said. and maybe that was why he figured you could experience some peace together now.

keeping your dress bunched up, jake grabbed some tissues from his left and started to wipe at you. “let’s get you cleaned up before we leave, cheerleader. don’t want the entire student body to see you like this, right?”

you whipped your head around, eyes widening in surprise. leaving to go where? certainly you weren’t going home with him after tonight. 

“did you think i was kidding?” jake asked with a sly smile, slipping your panties backing in place and giving your shoulder a fleeting kiss. “i told you, i’m gonna fuck you till your legs give out.”

[tracksidebaby]

Was It Real?

Summary: Despite having millions of followers, a handful of albums and a PR team, the fans don't know much about your private life, something that your PR team thinks is a negative. Lando's problem is quite the opposite, the fans know too much about his life and his outings, his playboy image not doing wonders for his reputation. The solution to both problems? Fake dating.

Twitter /

Instagram /

liked by: lando, username1 and 52,202 others

ynsings: my heart!! this was the best tour of my life! You made it so perfect, thank you to everyone of you that came! i love you!

username18: get in the studio now

username91: im sobbing, best night ever

username32: anyone else notice lando in the likes

| username12: probably means nothing...right 👀

| username19: pls we all know lando sleeps around, it means nothing

ynhq: what a show

Instagram /

liked by: mclaren, dannyricciardo and 81,203 others

lando: no reason

username72: oh this man is down bad

danielricciardo: no reason, my ass

| username12: what do you know

| username42: exposed

username54: anyone notice yn isn't in the likes though

username21: ok but im here for the pop queen x f1 driver ship

carlossainz55: slide 3 is interesting, no?

| username83: tell us what you know

username91: there's no way this isn't for yn

username36: okay sir, who are you trying to impress

| username75: im certainly impressed

Instagram /

liked by: lando, carlossainz55 and 83,123 others

ynsings: it was the laugh for me

username91: there is no way that's not lando right

| username57: it HAS to be

| username34: im not buying it

| username98: i ship it !!

username12: lando lando lando lando

username53: when i pull up to a 'who can like yn's post the quickest' competition but lando norris is already there

lando: 🧡

| username54: screaming

username32: ok but the caption, why is nobody talking about that

| username19: right the caption alone makes it obvious it's lando 😭

username23: the party boy and the reserved pop star, yeah im sat

carlossainz55: does this mean free tickets to the next concert? rebecca's birthday is soon

Instagram /

liked by: mclaren, carlossainz55, ynsings and 75,429 others

lando: got everything I need. Except her in the paddock

username72: i love them your honour

username 82: not lando getting p1 and mouthing 'for you' at the camera 😭😭😭😭

username: 30: as if people believe this

| username 20: right, its obviously a stunt

username 62: pr or not, that smile is real

ynsings: wish i could've been there to see you win 🧡

| mclaren: throwing the to do list away, the only important thing is getting you paddock passes !!!

| username 37: admin gets it

| username 60: imagine the celebration when shes there omg

| usernanme 13: not a want but a need

mclaren: double podium for the papaya boys

carlossainz55: i wish she was there too, you're sulky without her

| username 71: carlos is really just here to expose lando and i love it

Instagram /

liked by: lando, iamrebeccad, carlossainz55 and 98,082 others

ynsings: i don't ever tell you how i really feel, cause i can't find the words to say what i mean

username43: oh we are not ready for this one

username 19: SHES CRYING?!?! LANDO COUNT YOUR DAYS

| username 6: girl chill, we all know track nines are always emotional

username 47: omg lando songs !!!

username 4: this new era is gonna kill us

lando: im scared to ask which songs are about me

| username 5: lando panicking rn

| username 9: bro doesn't even know if he's done anything wrong and he'll be getting flowers sent her way

| username 23: the beauty and the downside of dating a singer, you're their muse

lando: the studio looks good on you. so does that hoodie.

iamrebbecad: angel, i am ready

username 37: need it rn actually

username 24: drop it

liked by lando, iamrebeccad and 89,192 others

ynsings: told him i'd only come if he podiumed

lando: that one was just for you, baby

| ynsings: does that mean i get to keep the trophy

| mclaren: no but it is an open invitation for you to visit us at MTC

| username 4: how is this the first time they're actually interacting with each other online

| username 3: fr yn usually just likes and swipes 😭

username 91: THE DRESS

username 23: he got p1 just for her, im sobbing

Instagram /

liked by: ynsings, mclaren and 82,329 others

lando: starting to think you're my good luck charm, @/ynsings

username: she has to come to every race

username: the way he runs straight to her after a win

username: p1 baby!!!

username: my parents

username: if they ever break up love isn't real

ynsings: i might just have to stick around then

| lando: sounds like a plan 🧡

Instagram /

liked by iamrebeccad, maxfewtrell and 101,324 others

ynsings: fuck, this ones gonna hurt

username: we are NOT surviving this new album

username: tell me my mom and dad didn't break up

maxfewtrell: idiots

| username: WOW

| username: max 😭

| username: damn max so public

username: oh i dont like this

username: this is the first time in six months im here before lando, i dont like it

iamrebeccad: here for you, angel

username: whats happening rn

username: dont do this to us

PART TWO HERE (girlies don't hate me for the two parter, i ran out of uploads! im publishing at the same time as this! i got you!)

[iamhereforfunnzies]

PlatonicYandere!Damian Wayne

Synopsis: Have you ever looked at your sibling and asked "What your cool?"

Damian never glared at you , no. Why would he? Look at you! His older sibling who is just some weird civilian if he didn't know any better he would have sliced you into halves for looking so indecent. How dare you walk around looking like some common criminal??? He turns red every time someone mentions that you both share blood.

Walking down the hall he spots his sibling with a leather jacket that is just pure color chaos , the colors don't compliment at all it looks who in their right mind make such an ugly ass jacket? The way there are random rips , using paint to be just splattering everywhere for nothing , why in god's name will you mix that shade of red and blue together??? It's too light and too dark! But the words you plastered...

He respected you for that , eyes widen in shock looking at those words , how could he not? Takes an abundance of confidence for anyone to be wearing that (Even if its ugly ass hell) . The thought of you wearing that outside makes his stomach churn , gotham isn't safe for you to be wearing that. So he did what's best.

He ripped your jacket to shreds, it was a necessity so stop crying like he killed your dog. Stop wailing and screaming as if he ripped your arm off. Please , I don't like it. It was so you can be safe what if someone killed you for wearing that? I am saving you. I AM SAVING YOU STOP CRYING.

He walked to you shaking his arms up just like how Dick always did everytime he felt weak and hug--- You pushed him to the wall.

What?

The image of you foaming in the mouth , pulling your hair as your eyes red looking at the remains of your jacket , you scream jittering as you try and try and try finding a way to fix it but it can't. Damian stares at you shaking he... Shouldn't have done that , his voice was dry and heavy as his lips quiver. "I am sorry."

You cover your face with your fingers , but your eyes sharpen looking at him. "Fucking Brat"

Dinner came , he sat down looking up seeing the seat empty. Everything goes without any changes as if his siblings appearance was just an option. Damian couldn't move on he wouldn't move on after that.

In some way he started going to your room , inspecting your closet. Every single piece of clothing is horrid to him , how does alfred even wash this without dulling the color. This entire closet from socks to hats need to be handwashed cause it's all so flimsy that it could easily break in the wash.

But every cloth had a purpose just not to cover up but oneself but to scream the words no one dares say. Have you been wearing this type of clothing all over gotham without a single wound!? He is... Impressed but worried. He notes that a shirt has dried blood though.

The way you speak makes makes him irked in astonishment how Father let's you go around doing anything. How are you even alive? Walking around with a target being so obnoxiously loud the Daam aliens can here you!

Once he was inspecting if you got any new articles of clothing when he heard the door open, he immediately hid himself. Watching you drag yourself to your bed with blood dripping from the side of your stomach made him bit his lip to stop himself from yelling at you.

His jaw drops , eyes shaking , fingers and feet felt a thousand needles prick him at once when he saw you inhaling the laughing gas.

"I know your there" you smile looking at the closet. Damian freezes , reluctantly opening the closet door.

"Ain't I something , lil bro?" Damian flinches seeing your easy going smile , you look so out of it but he played along. "What so your cool now?" he needed answers.

[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

[cinnaleaf]

「 Holidate | A Very Merry Footballer Ficmas 」

summary: you agree to fake date trent to save his image during the holiday season, but the lines on the contract start to blur | MDNI 18+

warnings: fake dating trope, teasing, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, language, smau, lighthearted angst, banter, kinda chaotic, **extended fam briefly mentioned are fictional 🎅🏾: sleigh got stuck in traffic so i’m late, forgive me | finale of my ficmas series wc: ~13.8k

You were halfway through your second cup of coffee, scrolling through emails like you usually did in the morning, when a peculiar email popped up.

From: Tyler Alexander-Arnold

Subject: Collaboration Proposal

You squinted at the name, thinking it sounded vaguely familiar but you weren’t sure why until it clicked. Trent Alexander-Arnold’s older brother. The footballer. You groaned, already feeling like there was going to be utter nonsense attached to the message. Athletes in your DMs and emails were nothing new, but they usually wanted shoutouts or some ‘collab’ that was a thinly veiled way of sliding into your messages for a hookup. You weren’t about to entertain a guy who thought sending his club’s match tickets was romantic.

But curiosity got the best of you:

Hi Y/N, I hope this email finds you well. My name is Tyler and I manage my brother, Trent Alexander-Arnold. PLG has followed your work for a while and we’re impressed by your authentic and engaging brand. I wanted to reach out with a unique proposal that I believe could be mutually beneficial. Trent is looking to shift his public image after recent media challenges, and we believe a collaborative effort with someone like you could help him accomplish this. The idea involves a short term arrangement posing as Trent’s girlfriend during the holidays with the possibility of extending the partnership into next year. We understand your time and reputation are valuable and will ensure all aspects of this arrangement align with your standards. Compensation and details are attached for your review. I look forward to hearing from you. Best regards, Tyler Alexander-Arnold

You stared at the screen, mouth slightly open. You had your fair share of wild pitch ideas before, but this was...new. A footballer fake boyfriend? For what? And why you?? You weren’t even the type – at least not for the girlfriend aesthetic they usually went for.

You scrolled down to the attached terms and your jaw dropped at the six figure amount of total compensation, and that wasn’t even including the performance bonus. The number was so pretty you wanted to print it out just to stare at it physically. A six month contract to ‘date’ Trent with a minimum of public appearances and the ability to control your own content. They were basically handing you all the creative freedom you demanded so often in every partnership you were ever a part of. But your pride was screaming at you. You built your brand on being authentic. Your followers trusted you because you weren’t fake. They would be able to sniff out any bullshit from you in milliseconds. You didn’t know if you could play it off that well.

Just as you were in your thoughts, doom scrolling through Instagram, you landed on a post about Trent. 

SpillTheBeansUK: Trent Alexander-Arnold spotted partying at 4 am while Liverpool struggles on the pitch. Distraction much? 

mintleaf: WHERE the FUCK is TYLER

realmrsTAA: he’s just having fun you miserable lot. leave my man alone 😤

YNWA_forever: he’s out clubbing while salah’s carrying the club? embarrassing look as vice cap

oh_shes_nosy: 4 am? with who though?? 👀 don’t let it be another ig baddie omg

ShutUpAndDefend: can’t defend on pitch but can defend a bottle of liquor fuck this guy

Footiebro: bruh just stay home and train. nobody asked for this shit wtf is his problem

DramaLlama12: this man said ‘defense’? never heard of her. shots at 4am? say lesssss

tumblrinagurl: need him to be so serious he’s messing up my fanfic posting schedule, follow the fucking script what the fuck

FPLQueen: this is exactly why i took him out of my fantasy team weeks ago. this is a big L

girl_shutup: not my man getting roasted while he’s just living his life 😭 y’all are haters fr

Shady_LFC: pov: you’re just a local lad from liverpool who wants to vibe

The entirety of the comments section was a battlefield. You sighed and toggled back to the email. It wasn’t your business what kind of PR storm he landed himself in, but if his camp was offering this type of money, he must’ve really fucked up.

Two days later, you found yourself in Manchester, sitting across from Tyler in a pristine meeting room at PLG. The room was sleek with chairs that looked expensive but were so uncomfortable. Tyler was polite but he didn’t look all that professional for someone who was supposed to be managing a high profile footballer.

“Uh, thanks for coming” he started, handing you a glossy folder. “I know it’s unconventional but I really think you’re the right person for this kind of arrangement.”

“Unconventional?” you raised an eyebrow, flipping through the paperwork. “Mate, this is unhinged. I’ve never had a request like this before.”

Tyler smiled sheepishly but just as he was about to respond, the door opened and Trent sauntered in. God forbid he enter the room like a normal person, he just had to be loud and obnoxious about it. He looked taller than you expected him to look, and he wore a tracksuit, totally unfashionable but it worked for him somehow. He nodded at Tyler before looking at you with an expression that was somewhere between bored and mildly annoyed.

“So this is her then, yeah?” Trent asked, as if you weren’t literally in the same room as him.

You leaned back in your chair, unimpressed. “And this is the guy who can’t keep his head on straight?”

Trent’s lips twitched as if he wanted to smile but refused to give you the satisfaction of it. Tyler exhaled, sensing there was likely more chaos to come from this little arrangement.

“Let’s stay focused” Tyler said firmly, pulling up the digital presentation he prepared. “The plan is to recalibrate Trent’s image and make him appear more serious and stable. Y/N’s audience aligns well with that narrative and her credibility can strengthen the likelihood of people believing this.”

“Sounds great” you said while closing the folder. “What’s in it for me though? Besides the headache.”

Trent snorted at your statement which earned him a glare from Tyler. “You’re getting paid aren’t you??”

“Trent.” Tyler replied sharply, then turned back to you. “There’s significant compensation and full creative control over your content. You also have the chance to build a connection with a large audience outside of your typical demographic. PLG will manage all the logistics and you don’t have to lift a finger unless you really want to.”

It was a good pitch, a lot better than you expected, but Trent’s attitude was already grating you. “I have one condition.” You snapped the folder shut dramatically and Tyler gestured for you to continue.

“I need your brother to at least pretend he’s interested in this. If he looks like he hates me in every picture my followers will clock it easily.”

Trent leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Relax. I’ll play nice.”

“You better” you shot back, grabbing your purse. “I’m not here to save your ass mate. I’m only doing it because the money is too good to pass up. And I actually know how to curate an image unlike you.”

Trent scoffed, rolling his eyes at your jab. “Curate an image? By doing what? Posting oat milk lattes and sunsets?”

“Try millions of people who actually care about what I say and what I buy” you fired back, standing up to adjust your bag strap. “But you? You’re lucky if anyone even reads your dry ass captions.”

Tyler pinched the bridge of his nose like he was deeply regretting his life choices. “Okay..enough. Both of you.” He turned to Trent with a warning expression. “Y/N is here to help you and we’re paying her a lot of money to make sure you don’t turn into a liability.”

Trent rubbed his hand over his forehead and crossed his arms, his smirk still in place. “Got it. I’ll be the perfect fake boyfriend.”

“You’re already bad at it” you muttered under your breath.

“Okay stop.” Tyler interrupted before Trent could come back with anything else. He stood up, motioning for you to sit back down. “We’ll need to go over specifics so you don’t mess up anything when this starts.”

“Right. Because I’m the one that’s gonna be a problem.” you answered back dryly, making Trent chuckle quietly. Tyler pulled up another presentation on screen with multiple bullet points and mocked up photos. “This is how this is gonna work. We’re going to start small with discreet hints like stories and maybe some pictures while you’re in Liverpool for the holidays. Make sure it’s subtle. Y/N, if your followers are eagle eyed we need to make sure it’s not too obvious at first.”

You nodded, already mentally calculating how to stage something that was lowkey but believable. “Got it. But what about him?” You jerked your thumb toward Trent, who looked like he would rather be anywhere but in the meeting room.

“He’ll match your posts,” Tyler said. “Simple stuff only though, like sharing ambiguous shots. Nothing too heavy.”

Trent scoffed and cocked his brow. “So what? Like a blurry picture of my trainers and call it a day?”

“Oh my god” you muttered, shaking your head. “You literally have no sauce. None. You’re so boring.”

“Moving on…” Tyler cut in before another argument could break out. “You’ll spend Christmas and Boxing Day with us at our family’s house in Liverpool. So you have to play the part for social media and for our parents, Marcel, and family friends. I’ll be the only one in on this.”

Trent frowned, not liking that idea at all. “Do they really need to be involved?”

“Yes.” Tyler answered matter of factly. “Because if we can’t convince them, then there’s no chance anyone else will believe it either.”

You raised your hand like you were in a classroom. “Mmk, quick question. What’s the backstory? How did we meet...how long have we been fake dating?”

Tyler pulled up a slide titled ‘Backstory’ and you glanced over it quickly, wanting to complain because it literally looked like he stole the idea from a girl blogger on the internet.

“You met at a private influencer event in London–”

Trent interrupted, “What’s an influencer event?”

You blinked at him. “Are you that fucking dumb?? There’s no way…”

“It’s like the stuff you post” Tyler deadpanned. “Clothes, photographers, influencers, models. Anyway...you hit it off, exchanged numbers and started seeing each other about four months ago and kept it lowkey because you wanted privacy.”

“Four months?” Trent questioned while frowning. “Isn’t that a little short?”

“Not when you’re a serial dating Libra…” you shot back. “And honestly the less time we pretend to have been together, the less likely we are to mess up the details.”

Tyler nodded. “Exactly that. But you still need to act like you’ve been dating for months. Know each other’s habits, inside jokes, favorite things.”

You tilted your head at Trent, narrowing your eyes. “Right. What’s your favorite food Trent?”

He looked like you asked him for the code to his house. “Um..protein I guess?”

“What? That’s not—I know you’re fucking lying” You slumped back in your chair, rubbing your temples from the regret. “This is going to be a disaster.”

Tyler ignored the tension and instead moved on. “After the holidays you’ll need to continue with the occasional post for the next month..just enough to keep the story alive online, but you don’t have to be seen with him publicly at all until February. We’ll do a hard launch in February with photos together and maybe a public appearance. After that, just a few photos online here and there.”

“And then we break up just in time for hot girl summer” you added, pretending it was a joke but it really wasn’t. You weren’t trying to let this affect your time on a yacht under the sun in Capri.

Trent smirked. “Hot girl summer??”

You gawked at him. “Meg the– wait are you serious? Are you on the internet at all??”

Tyler cut in with a firm voice. “Can you both shut up for two seconds? This will only work if it’s convincing. That means no fighting in front of people. Especially in public.” You rolled your eyes but stayed quiet, glancing over at Trent who was scrolling through his phone under the table. Probably googling himself knowing him.

After the meeting was over, you left the building with a heavy sigh that felt like it came straight from the soul. You couldn’t believe you accepted the proposal and were now under the contractual obligation to deal with Trent and his extensive attitude for the next six months. The cold air hit your face as you stepped into the car park and you pulled your purse closer as if to shield yourself from whatever chaos Trent was bound to bring in these next couple of months.

The sound of footsteps behind you made you groan internally. Speak of the devil.

“You always this fun or is it all for me?” His voice was smug, his accent rolled the words off in a way that made you have to pause just to think about what he said and that grated your nerves already. When you turned around, his hands were shoved into the pockets of his joggers, leaning against a black car. Of course he followed you out.

“Only for you mate. Consider it your welcome package..or an early Christmas gift” you deadpanned while still fumbling with your purse.

“Lucky me.” Somehow he made it sound like he meant it. Maybe he wasn’t all that clueless..or maybe he was just fucking with you.

“Don’t push it.” You yanked open the door of the hired car waiting for you, already done with his small talk.

“It won’t be so bad” he smirked, like it was some kind of joke to him. Like he wasn’t the one who needed this arrangement to clean up his trainwreck of an image.

“Just act like you’ve been somewhere before” You paused before you slid into the car. “Show up, smile, and don’t say anything stupid. That’s all I need from you. No more, no less.” You swung your legs in and reached for the door, about to close it, but his voice stopped you.

“Wait! What’s your favorite food?”

Your hand froze mid reach and you looked up to give him an unimpressed look. “Why?”

He shrugged, far too pleased with himself for someone whose job it was to not piss you off. “I think I should know. Seeing as I’m pretending to be the love of your life and all.”

The sheer audacity of this man was maddening. “Love of my life?? Please” you snorted. “I’m only mildly okay with you right now. I tolerate you. That’s it.”

“Ok. Fine. So what is it then?” he pressed, enjoying the way you rolled your eyes at nearly everything coming out of his mouth.

“Shrimp fried rice” you snapped, yanking the door shut. Through the tinted window you saw him grin and you shook your head, slumping into your seat as the car pulled off. You weren’t sure if it was the money, the challenge, or the audacity of Trent that made you agree to any of this.

Whatever it was, you knew it was going to be the longest six months of your life.

You made it to Manchester two days early to ‘acclimate’ as Tyler called it, but in all actuality you needed time to figure out how to make this situation feel less like reality TV. Posting subtle hints on Instagram was your first step. Just enough to start the speculation without turning everything into a circus. Your first story was a panoramic view of Manchester from your hotel room, where you left a cute caption about not being in London or Los Angeles for once. The comments rolled in nearly immediately. People wanted to know why you were in Manchester for the holidays, and whether it was for a brand deal, or a new beau. Your next story was a picture of your luggage, strategically unzipped to show a small piece of a Liverpool scarf tucked inside. You didn’t even caption it, you just let everyone draw their own conclusions.

Later that week, you were in the passenger seat of Trent’s car as he drove the both of you to Liverpool. It was silent, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, the silence was just there. You had your airpods in, half tuned into a podcast, while he had one hand on the wheel and the other scrolling through a Spotify playlist, probably looking for some stupid Drake song to play.

“This is your plan then?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You pulled out one airpod and glanced at him. “What?”

“This instagram stuff.” He gestured toward your phone. “I saw your story. Not bad. Kind of dramatic though..don’t you think?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Says the one having a PR disaster so terrible he had get his brother to hire a fake girlfriend for him.”

Trent smirked, turning his eyes back to the road. “Ah, fair. But a Liverpool scarf is a lot. That’s gonna cause some shit.”

“That’s the entire point. My followers will be on it in minutes and by the time we show up at your parents’, half the internet will have think pieces about how we’re madly in love.”

“Madly in love?” He shook his head, laughing. “That’s overkill.”

You shrugged, looking through your camera roll for your next post. “I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

The Alexander-Arnold house was exactly what you imagined. It wasn’t obnoxiously huge but it was comfortable and cozy. The home’s exterior was decorated with Christmas lights and a wreath hung on the front door that looked handmade. 

You stood on the doorstep with bated breath. Trent was next to you with his hands shoved in his pockets, as unbothered as ever. If he was nervous about selling this relationship to his family, it didn’t really show.

“Ready?” he asked with a faint smirk.

“Are you?” you cocked your brow. “I’m not the one who waited until two days ago to mention I existed.” Trent winced but didn’t respond and instead pressed the doorbell. You didn’t know why he did that considering he could’ve just walked in. Maybe he was nervous. Either way, him not taking the responsibility over the fact that his mum would probably clock both of you had you annoyed. The door opened shortly after and his mum stood there, all smiles and festive. There was a look in her eye that told you she wasn’t buying any of this nonsense from the start. “Oh! You must be Y/N!” she greeted warmly, stepping forward and pulling you into a hug before you could even say hello. The hug felt genuine enough, but it also had that undertone of ‘lets see whats really going on here’.

You blinked, trying not to overthink things. “Hiii, so nice to meet you Mrs. Alex–”

“Dianne. Just call me Dianne” she interrupted, pulling back but keeping her hands on your arms while looking at you. “No need to be formal. You’re family for the holidays.”

Family. Right. That’s what this was. You were Trent’s ‘girlfriend’. You forced a smile, ignoring the way your stomach was turning as a result of her response. Trent’s dad appeared behind his mum and he gave you a firm handshake, but his expression was less warm and more reserved.

“Welcome. Glad you’re here to join us” he said simply.

“Thanks for having me” you replied, trying to keep your tone polite but still warm.

Marcel was leaning against the staircase in the hall with his arms crossed, displaying a shit eating grin plastered across his face. “So” he began, dragging the word out as he straightened up and walked over with a stroll. “You’re the random girlfriend that’s popped up out of nowhere.”

You felt your pulse spike but you forced yourself to laugh. “Yeah..I guess that’s me.”

“Hmm” he hummed, tilting his head. “Funny you’ve never been mentioned before until two days ago. Not even once.”

Your smile tightened and you glanced at Trent, hoping he would swoop in and save the day with something clever but he just stood there looking like he was vaguely amused by the whole thing.

“Marcel, don’t be rude,” Dianne warned lightly.

“I’m not!” Marcel kissed his teeth. “I’m just saying it’s mad he’s never mentioned her and now she’s here for Christmas. I don’t know this girl..never seen her a day in my life.” He turned back to you with a cheeky grin. “How’d you meet? Paris? Milan? Ibiza??”

You really wanted to knock Trent upside his head at this point but instead you gave a sweet smile. “At a private influencer event actually.”

Dianne laughed, knowing her son wasn’t serious enough to attend a private event like that. She looked at him, trying to figure out if all of this was bullshit. Marcel didn’t even try to hide his disbelief. “Yeah, sure. What was the event called?”

Your stomach dropped and you went wide eyed. You could’ve googled literally anything about Trent’s past couple of months to make this more believable, but you didn’t and clearly neither had he. You paused to think for a little bit, which was just long enough for Marcel to attack.

“Yeah that’s what I thought” he smirked.

“Alright that’s enough” Dianne interrupted, but it was clear she was waiting for that answer as well. “Marcel leave the poor girl alone.”

Michael cleared his throat and stepped in. “Dinner’s in an hour.”

By the time Christmas dinner rolled around, you sat down next to Trent, almost too distracted by the food to notice the tension brewing at the table, but then his mum’s voice cut through your distraction like a blade wrapped in sugar. 

“So Y/N..” She handed you a gravy boat with a fake smile. “How long have you two been together?”

“Four months” you answered with ease, remembering the backstory presentation. You looked at Trent for a brief moment to make sure he was following along.

“Three” Trent said through a mouthful of roasted potatoes while not even looking up.

You scrunched your face, blinking back disbelief. “Four.”

“No it’s three” he insisted, frowning as he reached for some rice. “September, right?”

“August” you corrected him through clenched teeth and kicked him under the table. His fork froze mid air and he finally looked at you. 

“August?”

“Yes” you hissed, trying to keep the forced smile on your face while glancing back at his mum, who was watching like a hawk. “The end of August.”

Trent shrugged, and went back to eating the food from his plate. “That’s basically September.”

“It’s really not.”

Dianne’s eyes darted between both of you with a smile still there, but curiosity very obviously piqued. “Strange..” she started lightly. “I don’t remember hearing about you in August or September. He didn’t mention you until just a few days ago.” Marcel almost choked on his drink from laughing, and even their dad chuckled to himself before taking a sip of his drink.

“I didn’t want to jinx it that’s all” Trent said casually while leaning back in his chair, still popping food into his mouth.

You glared at him. “Jinx it?”

“Yeah” he smirked, looking at you. “Didn’t wanna rush things y’know?”

You bit down on the side of your cheek to keep from snapping at him. He wasn’t following the script at all. He was barely trying, mostly hoping to coast on charm like it would cover all the gaping holes in your ‘love’ story.

“Right…” Dianne slowly spoke while arching her brow just enough to make you feel nervous. “So where did this event happen again?”

“London” you answered fast before Trent found a way to ruin that too, but he answered at the same time as you, with a completely different answer.

“Paris.” 

Marcel snorted into his drink, laughing so hard he started bumping the table and made the cutlery rattle. Across from you, their mum had a smile still on her face but the look on her face drilled right into your badly built backstory. She didn’t say anything, but you knew she had more questions when she eyed Michael with a knowing glance. You turned to Trent, narrowing your eyes at him and gave him another kick under the table that landed on his shin. He jumped forward and dropped his fork on his plate.

“London” you repeated in a tight voice with a smile that was more of a grimace. “We met in London at the influencer event.”

Trent nodded, rubbing his shin but still smirking, not taking any of this seriously. “Yeah London. The city with all the..... influencer stuff.”

Marcel nearly slid out of his chair from failing to keep his laughs at an appropriate volume at the table. Dianne looked at him with a warning but it didn’t bother him in the slightest. He leaned forward and rested his chin on his hand with an entertained look on his face. “Oh yeah?” he said grinning. “Since you’re so in love, what’s her favorite food then?”

You could see the gears in Trent’s head trying their very best to come up with an answer while he chewed his food. “Uhhh....” He drew the word out for so long you wanted to answer for him. “Shrimp fried rice?” You let out a soft exhale, surprised he actually listened in the car park. Marcel wasn’t impressed and tipped his head back to cackle.

“Took you long enough to answer.”

By this point, the entire family was trying to hide their laughs from the absurdity of the situation. Their dad even cracked a smile and shook his head as he passed a plate of roasted veggies to Marcel.

“Trent” Dianne dabbed her mouth with a napkin, still smiling. “You’re absolutely hopeless when it comes to relationships.”

“I’m not hopeless” he contested, glaring at Marcel who was still in stitches over the whole ordeal.

“Oh, love” you said sweetly, leaning in close enough to lower your voice. “You really are.”

He tilted his head, cutting his eyes at you but he had a playful look in his eye at the same time. “Careful. You’re supposed to be in love with me, remember?”

You smirked, raising your glass like you were doing a toast. “I must be a really great actress then.”

The sound of the door opening saved you from whatever dumb thing Trent was about to say. Tyler walked in a casual rush, juggling a reusable tote bag and his phone. “Sorry I’m late.” He slid in the chair next to Michael. His wife wasn’t far behind and had a baby on her hip, smiling to make up for Tyler’s disheveled state.

“Tyler!” Dianne exclaimed, momentarily distracted by her eldest child. “We were just about to have dessert. There’s plenty of food left, let me fix you a plate.”

“No need” Tyler replied while waving her off with a smile. His gaze shifted to you first, and then Trent. “You two alright?”

“Great.” Trent answered, dragging the word out in a very unbothered tone.

“Fantastic” you added, side eyeing Trent.

“Good..” Tyler clapped his hands together. “Because I brought something to make this whole thing even better.” From the tote bag, Tyler pulled out two neatly wrapped presents and handed one to both of you under the table with a wink.

“What’s this?” you asked in a whisper, frowning while trying to discreetly look at the tag.

“Just go with it,” Tyler whispered back. “It strengthens the story. Just act surprised.”

Trent shook the box in his hands like it came from the North Pole, fresh off the sleigh. “What is it?” he asked, too loud for the covert operation Tyler planned.

Marcel’s eyes lit up immediately. “Hey, what’s all that?”

“It’s nothing” you glared at Trent and then Marcel. “Just something we brought for each other.”

Dianne’s attention turned back to you and you felt her sizing up the gifts that had randomly appeared all of a sudden. “How thoughtful…”

You reluctantly tore into the wrapping paper. Inside, there was a Diptyque gift set and a pair of designer sunglasses from Jacques Marie Mage that were so exclusive they had yet to hit most influencer’s feeds. It was perfectly on brand and very believable. Trent unwrapped his gift with the same flair of a child. Inside was a custom bag from Goyard with his initials engraved, and a high tech Hypervolt massage gun that hadn’t been released yet.

“Nice” Trent exclaimed while holding both up like it was a trophy. “You have good taste baby.”

Baby?

The table paused collectively. Dianne’s eyes froze on both of you, Marcel peered at you over the rim of his glass, Michael leaned back with a curious look on his face. Tyler gave you a subtle thumbs up from across the table and you wanted to strangle him.

“Baby?” you repeated in a confused tone. “Where did that come from?”

“Just felt right. Don’t you think?” Trent shrugged with a smirk.

You clenched your teeth, glancing over at the baby that was now side eyeing you too. You gave her a sweet smile and she frowned at you more. “Oh it’s perfect.”

Michael broke the silence with a hearty laugh. “Well..it’s nice to see you two so close.”

“Oh, we’re close” you said quickly, giving Trent a look that could kill.

“Basically inseparable” he added, winking as he set the gifts on the table. Tyler cleared his throat to try and get the conversation back on track. “So, Mum..what’s for dessert?”

Thank god Dianne didn’t press any further after Tyler’s distraction, but you knew this was far from over. When no one was watching, Trent leaned toward you in a low and smug voice. “Relax. You’re doing great.”

You didn’t even bother looking at him because you were so annoyed.

“Stick to the script or I swear I’ll throw one of these Diptyque candles at your head.”

Trent chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Looking forward to it…..baby.”

By the time dinner was over, you walked upstairs to kick off your heels and Trent had already claimed the bathroom. You could hear the sound of running water and his terrible singing drifting through the door as you sat on the bed, laying out your carefully curated skincare routine: cleansing oil for your makeup removal, glycerin cleanser for moisture, red light therapy, centella toner, hyaluronic acid serum, eye serum, ceramidin moisturizer, a spritzer of atobarrier cream mist, and a sleeping lip mask. You lined them up on the table like little soldiers. When Trent finally came out of the shower, his towel was wrapped around his hips and he paused mid step, staring at your collection of bottles and jars.

“What the hell is all of that?” he asked, pointing with his toothbrush still in hand.

“It’s called flawless, glass skin” you shot back, reaching for the oil cleanser and heading to the bathroom. He leaned against the wall with a smirk. “You look like a chemist.”

“Don’t knock it til you try it” you ignored him as you massaged the oil cleanser into your skin. “This is why I look like this” you gestured to your face, “and you’re just...you know.”

Cute? He was cute. But there was no need to gas him up.

“Just what?”

“Nevermind.” you muttered, grabbing your face towel.

“Nah. Finish it. Go on” he teased, stepping gloser. “Already halfway there anyway.”

You glared at him. “If you don’t get out of my face…” Trent turned to adjust the towel around his hip and it slipped. The towel fell on the floor and his dick was in full display. Not bad honestly – thick with a slight curve that was...kind of aesthetically pleasing. Your mouth dropped before you could realize and you turned around so fast you almost knocked over a serum bottle.

“Oh my god! Trent!”

“What?” he asked, way too casual for someone who just flashed you. “It’s just skin. You’re acting like you’ve never seen one before.”

“Not the point!” you yelled, keeping your eyes firmly on the wall while he laughed. Eventually, he bent down to grab the towel and you could hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke again.

“Chill. Don’t act like you weren’t curious about it anyway. Gonna post my dick report anonymously online now?”

You turned back to glare at him now that he was safely wrapped back in the towel. “Please. I’m sure the girls you were with at 4am have already done that for you. Just..don’t let it happen again or I’m actually going to gouge my eyes out.”

He grinned at you, strolling over to the bed like he didn’t just traumatize you. “You’re dramatic. It’s cute.”

After the dick debacle, you climbed into bed, muttering under your breath about boundaries and respect. Trent flopped down next to you while scrolling through his phone without a care in the world.

“You’re actually so annoying” you said while setting up the perfect soft launch shot.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one a few times,” he replied without looking up.

You ignored him to focus on the picture. It was supposed to be subtle, yet strategic: your skincare bottles glowed under the warm light from the lamp on the bedside table. In the background, Trent was slightly blurred from the setting, yet identifiable as he laid on the bed, legs crossed with his phone in one hand. The caption you added: ‘never let santa stop this slay, skincare always 🎄✨’. By the time you posted the story, your phone was already pinging because SpillTheBeansUK had posted it with a quickness.

SpillTheBeansUK: Who’s the mystery man in Y/N’s background? The skincare? Impeccable. The vibes? Cozy. But that ARM…who’s claiming it? 🕵️‍♀️

ynstan99: WAIT. WHO IS THAT IN THE BACKGROUND?

liverpoolbabe01: that’s defo liverpool and that’s trent’s fam’s house i recognize it bc my mum’s cousin’s best friend’s sister’s brother in law lives just across the road omg she bagged a footballer???

nosygirlfc: GIRL WE KNOW THAT’S TRENT WE’RE NOT DUMB

“What are you posting?” Trent asked, glancing over at your screen.

“Work” you replied simply, turning your phone toward him. “You see that? That’s how you soft launch.”

He studied the story for a bit and nodded while smirking. “Not bad. My turn.”

“You’re posting something?”

“Yup” he replied plainly, scrolling through his camera roll. Minutes later he posted a random photo of his feet propped on a coffee table next to the Christmas tree downstairs, with your phone case barely visible at the edge of the frame that he took earlier. His caption was lame and boring: Holiday vibes.

“That’s so pathetic” you shook your head.

“It’s subtle,” he argued, leaning back against the pillows.

“It’s lazy” you argued back, setting your phone off to the side.

“Lazy works.” He turned off the light, smirking. You rolled your eyes but didn’t respond and pulled the blanket up while turning away from him. The room went quiet before he broke the silence with his sarcasm just as you were starting to drift off to sleep. “Night, my love.”

--

You should’ve known Boxing Day wasn’t going to be about lounging around in pajamas and eating leftovers while scrolling through Instagram in peace. Not when Tyler was involved.

The man had sent a fully detailed itinerary to both of you at an ungodly hour that morning, outlining what he dramatically called ‘The Boxing Day Stroll’. The plan was to head to Manchester, walk around casually, and let the pre-arranged paparazzi do their thing. Of course it wouldn’t be all that easy because the man had already messed up damn near everything else in this facade.

“Just act natural” Tyler said while driving you over to the staged area. “And look like you can’t get enough of each other.” As the car pulled to a stop, you glanced over at Trent who was slouched in his seat, lazily scrolling through a dating app on his phone when he was supposed to be fake dating you.

“You do remember what we’re doing, right?” you asked.

“Walking” he said without looking up.

“Walking and looking like we’re deeply, madly, dangerously in love” you corrected him. “So don’t glare, or pout, and don’t say anything idiotic when someone asks what my name is.”

Trent finally looked up and his lips curved into that same infuriating smirk that pissed you off. “You’re very bossy, you know that?”

“And you’re very bad at following directions.” you argued back.

“Relax baby. I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Don’t call me baby” you muttered while pulling the car door open before he could irritate you anymore than he already had.

The city was packed with people entering storefronts, couples and families carrying bags from Boxing Day sales, and kids running around screaming from sugar rush. The holiday vibes were still in full force and picturesque enough for you to almost forget the cameras until you heard the sound of a shutter. You tensed and looked over to the source of the sound but Trent was still unbothered by it, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He must’ve done these before. He annoyingly looked good even though all he did was throw on whatever was closest. Meanwhile, your fit was carefully curated and you wore a cute co-ord jumper over a wool coat, jeans, chocolate brown booties with a ribbed fold over knit fabric, a crossbody bag, and assorted jewelry from PR packages you received.

“Hold my hand” you whispered through clenched teeth with a frozen smile while passing a group of shoppers.

“What?”

“Hold. My. Hand.” you repeated with a forced expression while waving at an eager little boy who looked more interested in Trent than you. He rolled his eyes but reached for your hand. His palms were warm and comforting, annoyingly enough.

“Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” you replied through your fake smile, tilting your head to pretend you were saying something cute instead of wanting to knock him upside his head. As you walked down the street, you could see the paps positioning themselves and whispering about different angles. You stopped in front of a shop window that had the most gorgeous jewellery and pretended to admire a necklace while pulling Trent closer.

“That one’s nice” you pointed to a random piece on display.

“Eh. Too shiny.” he glanced at it for all of two seconds.

You side eyed him. “Too shiny?? It’s a necklace.”

“Yeah. It looks tacky as fuck” he smirked.

“You think that’s tacky?” you cracked back. “You don’t even know how to dress. You have multiple pairs of the same trainers and tracksuits. That’s tacky.”

“Nah. They’re not all the same. Some of them are for athletic wear and the others are for leisure. There’s a difference.”

You almost laughed but quickly covered it with a cough instead. This man was ridiculous in his own way, and it was kind of endearing. When you turned the corner to a quieter street, the paps pretended to be hidden behind strategically placed stalls, waiting for the perfect shot. “Okay..” you muttered, leaning into Trent just enough to be believable. “Let’s just make this quick. Look at me like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“Not too hard to do. You’re easy on the eyes.”

You lost your steps for a little and muttered, “Don’t overdo it,” brushing a nonexistent strand of hair from your face to behind your ear. “Just be calm.”

“I’m calm” he countered, lightly grazing his thumb over your knuckles. “You’re really committed to this shit, huh?”

“Well..your management team is paying me for this so yeah..I am” you tightly smiled. The cameras kept taking photos but you didn’t look toward them this time so that they could get exactly what was needed. The pictures hit the interwebs almost instantly and they were good. There was a candid of you mid laugh as Trent looked at you with a soft expression and melting grin. The second one was a close up of your hands intertwined while you leaned into him. The angle it was taken in made it look like you were sharing a private moment in the middle of a crowded street. The final picture was of Trent breaking off a piece of chocolate and feeding it to you while smiling in a cozy corner of a small shop. That wasn’t planned though, the joy from that was the real deal.

Before you made it back to the car, Tyler was already in the group chat, hyping both of you up. The pictures were reposted by SpillTheBeans too:

SpillTheBeansUK: Trent Alexander-Arnold spotted out with influencer Y/N L/N looking very cozy in Manchester on Boxing Day. Rumour has it, this love story started a few months ago...Any thoughts, Beans? 👀

ynstan99: sobbing, crying, throwing up. LOOK AT THEM

whatRUonabt: PR but i can’t even hate she’s gorg and they look good

reds4vr_: not convinced after that stunt he pulled last week during match. this is obviously fake news to get us off his back

chirpchirp: she’s just like me fr but i can hold his hand better footiebro: she’s leng but i hope bro isn’t serious he’s got too many distractions

giseleeee_: i give it 3 months before they announce a break up this is fake as fuck

plsbereal: imagine him holding her camera silently while she films vlogs and ootd’s i’m screaming 🥺

YNsquad: i can’t wait until she posts her next chaotic story and he’s in the background. confirm it queen!!

You scrolled through all the chaotic comments, shaking your head as Trent leaned in to peek at your screen. “What are they saying?” he asked, more invested than he wanted to let on.

“My fans think you’re obsessed with me” you held back your grin while showing him the comments.

“Nah. Other way around I think” he smirked, cocking his brow.

“Whatever” you rolled your eyes, still scrolling through your phone as the car pulled away. 

By the time midweek rolled around, you were wondering why you agreed to any of this. Sitting in the box at Anfield felt like you were walking into enemy territory. This was...cute, but not really your vibe. The launch strategy was working so Tyler insisted you show up to keep up this festive fairytale. The box was filled with WAGS and family members dressed up. You weren’t entirely out of place, your fit was eating theirs up rightfully so, but you still felt like a fish out of water every time someone looked at you for too long. You tried to make the most out of it and half an hour into the match, you posted a curated story of a video on the field, zoomed in just enough to show everyone on the field in clear view with the caption: not usually my vibe but i’ll allow it ⚽

The second slide was a chaotic close up of your freshly done nails in an almond shape holding a drink. The third was a shaky clip of the crowd cheering just as Trent assisted with a goal. It didn’t take long for you know who to start some mess.

SpillTheBeansUK: Y/N posts from the box after her Boxing Day photoshoot with TAA! Official or not? Let the investigations begin 🕵️‍♀️

loverpoolluvr: she’s just posting random stories. y’all are reading too much into it

overlibramen: how are you lot defending this? man has a new personality every week. let’s bffr

ynbabesfc: nails immaculate and she’s living rent free in your head and trent’s. COPE

sleuthysleuth: the timeline makes sense i’ve got the receipts and it tracks

trentsgfwannabe: i bet she doesn’t even like football and he deserves someone who can actually appreciate the sport

By the time you and Trent made it back to the house that night, you were drained to hell. The day was filled with forced smiles, cameras, and a lot of online chaos that you tried not to look at but ended up scrolling through anyway.

“You okay?” Trent asked in a softer voice than you expected for someone who supposedly didn’t care.

“I’m fine..” you mumbled while grabbing an oversized hoodie you borrowed from him earlier in the week and some pajama shorts. “I just feel like I’m so out of my element right now.” 

Trent had already claimed his spot on the bed and was scrolling through his phone with one hand and eating crisps out of the other. “You’re not that bad at it” he replied, looking up at you as you climbed on your side of the bed.

“Wow thanks” you responded dryly and grabbed one of the snacks he was holding out for you. You were both on your phones, scrolling through various apps while crisp bags crinkled noisily through the silence.

“…Do you ever get nervous or scared?” you asked to break through the silence.

“Nervous or scared about what?” He set his phone down, looking at you with a confused look.

“Of losing yourself with all the fame. It’s like.. I’ve built this whole brand online on my own and I have an audience that trusts me a lot because my whole thing is based on being real with them. But this is....not real. And it feels wrong.” You gestured at him and then you. “I’m scared it’s going to ruin things for me.”

Trent nodded at you and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I get it. Everything I do on or off the pitch always feels like it’s for someone else. I don’t always know what I want. And I change my mind a lot.”

You looked at him in surprise, taken aback by what you assumed was honesty. “Really?”

“Yeah..” he leaned back against the headboard. “Feels like I’m a product and not a person sometimes. Sometimes I rebel every once in a while but I guess I took it too far this time.”

For the first time, you saw him as Trent and not some footballer with a PR disaster on his hands. “Well...at least we have this to bond over. Being fake together.”

He laughed then grinned at you with a wide smile. “Yeah...something like that.”

“It’s kind of weird though. Because for something so fake...it’s starting to feel like it’s...not. Since we’re together all the time and whatnot.”

Trent cocked a brow at your last statement. You opened your mouth to backtrack and say something snarky or petty, but your phone rang against the bedside table. The screen lit up with a facetime call and your stomach dropped when you saw the name.

Romeo Cruz.

Romeo was a rising singer in LA that had all the charm, charisma, and a voice that made every girl want to melt. He slid into your DMs months ago, and while it wasn’t anything super serious, there was definitely flirting going on, and it was FUN. You glanced at Trent who was also looking at your screen.

“Who’s that?”

You reached for your phone with hesitation. “Uhh..just someone I know. No biggie.”

Trent leaned back on the headboard with a clenched jaw. “Yeah? Someone important enough to facetime you at nearly midnight?”

You rolled your eyes and ignored him, answering the call anyway. “Romeo! Hey.” On the screen, Romeo appeared with tousled curly hair, a signature smile with dimples, a sharp jawline, and beautifully glowing, sun kissed skin. “Hey beautiful” he dripped in his velvety, deep and smooth voice. “Just checking in. Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Yeah, sorry” your tone was a bit light, a little flirty, but you were nervous because Trent was right there, burning his eyes into the side of your face. “Life has been....busy. A little chaotic but you know me, I love that.”

Romeo noticed the tension inflicted in your voice and cocked his head back from the screen a bit in concern. “You good? Where are you? LA or London?”

You didn’t get a chance to answer because Trent reached over and took the phone from your hands like it was his own phone. “She’s busy right now.” He answered for you in a flat tone, holding up the phone so Romeo could see him and his annoying smirk.

“Uh.. and who are you?”

“Her boyfriend,” Trent replied smoothly. “Thanks for the check in mate but she’s good. We’re in the middle of something.” He paused for the drama of it all and then looked at you.

Romeo had a look of disbelief and irritation showing on his face. “Well tell her to call when she’s–”

Trent didn’t let him finish and took the opportunity to cup your chin with one hand, pulling you into a kiss. For something that was fake it felt way too convincing. You felt butterflies in your stomach as his lips met yours. He didn’t pull away immediately, but when he did you were dazed and out of breath. Too stunned to speak. Romeo saw it all and Trent’s face lit up with the cockiest grin ever.

“Yeah I doubt that mate. She’ll be too tired.” He hit the button to end the call.

“What the fuck was that?” you stared at him, your mouth agape in shock.

“What?”

“What????” you repeated, the volume in your voice increasing. “You just kissed me and basically told him I’m taken..like I’m your actual girlfriend! What the fuck??”

Trent popped a crisp into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously and meeting your death glare with a calm look, then he shrugged. “Just following the script, remember?”

--

By New Years Eve, your public side of the bargain was winding down, but Trent was still annoying you more than ever, even after the kiss. The sound of him chewing in your ear was still echoing days later as you stood in front of the mirror of the hotel, adjusting your ponytail again. Your hair was slicked back with the ends flipped up in soft curls that bounced whenever you moved. You had two loose strands in the front. Your followers knew those strands as your ‘slut strands’ – a term you coined because whenever you had those two strands framing your face, things always ended up a little wild. Between the alcohol flowing at the NYE party, the DJ, and Trent by your side, you knew something was bound to happen. You were always a Chatty Cathy on the juice, and the strands were an unofficial warning label that signified you were about to be everyone’s best friend, or a major problem. You adjusted your dress and gave yourself a final look in the mirror. You were trying to give unbothered girlie with a hint of ruining someone’s life one drink at a time. You grinned at yourself, knowing you looked like you were that girl™.

Just as you were about to spritz your perfume, Tyler texted the group chat:

Start heading to the club. The event is popping off atm. Pap friendly corner is just outside near the bar’s exit so make it count.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. Of course Tyler felt the need to micromanage the party from a distance while acting like he wasn’t the most hands off manager in the industry. He could barely schedule Trent’s interviews on time but was now suddenly invested in making this fake relationship seem so solid. You just wanted to have a good time and be free of this nonsense publically like your contract originally stated.

“I can’t believe all three of the Alexander-Arnold boys are this annoying” you muttered under your breath while putting your heels on. 

Your contract made it clear that New Year’s Eve was the grand finale for the public part of the facade. After tonight, you wouldn’t have to parade around looking like you were madly in love anymore. The plan was to silently pull back and make the relationship seem more private with the occasional story, casual mentions, and reposts every once in a while until June, where you would announce a breakup and be free of him for good. You grabbed your purse and headed for the door to meet Trent downstairs. If this was going to be the last time you had to fake it, you were going out with a bang..and you were going to have some fun with it too just to celebrate the end of this mess.

When you reached the lobby of the hotel, Trent was waiting for you and scrolling through his phone. He looked good, his trim was crisp, his fit wasn’t terrible, and he smelled amazingly good. He lowered his phone, eyeing you from head to toe with a clenched jaw.

“Damn” he voiced involuntarily.

You tried to avoid smirking and adjusted the strap of your dress but a smirk still appeared anyway. “That’s it? Just damn? I put a lot of effort in for this look…”

He licked over his lips and finally looked you in the eye. “Then you already know how you look.”

“You’re lucky I’m feeling great or else I’d make you say it with more enthusiasm.”

“Trust me” he started, running a hand over his head. “I’m enthusiastic but you don’t need a bigger head than you already have.”

You rolled your eyes and brushed past him to head to the car waiting outside, your heels tapping against the marbled lobby floor. “Shut up and come on. I can’t deal with you while sober tonight. I need a drink.”

By the time you made it to the club, it was already pure chaos. The bass was so heavy you could feel it in your chest as you walked through the VIP area. There were strobe lights flashing around, illuminating random moments of chaos. A group of footballers were trying to outdrink each other in a booth stacked with empty Clase Azul bottles, an influencer in a bright dress was dancing on a table with a sparkler in one hand, and a model was yelling at a bartender because she couldn’t find a tiny baggie of white substance she drunkenly left at the bar who knows how long ago.

When you and Trent walked in, heads turned and whispers cut through the air. His hand brushed against your back to keep up with the facade. The scent in the air was...interesting. It was a blend of liquor, sweat, perfume and the faint tang of weed smoke. You knew tonight was going to leave a mark whether it be on your reputation, your conscience, or both.

“Where’s Tyler’s pap friendly corner again?” you asked, leaning into Trent so you wouldn’t have to yell over the blaring music.

“Near the bar. But let’s grab a drink first.”

You followed him as the hem of your dress brushed against your thigh. The bar was wild. People were pushing against each other like they would run out of alcohol, or maybe they just really wanted the Getty Images watermark with a top face card photo to memorialize the end of the year. The bartender was busy juggling a bottle of Hennessy with one hand, and pouring multiple shots with the other hand, all while someone was yelling for espresso martinis from the corner.

“Champagne? Martini?” Trent asked, turning to you as you perched against the counter with your hips leaning into the wood.

You shook your head. “A round of shots from top shelf and a coconut water.”

“Uh...that’s specific.” He turned to the bartender, ordering for you and himself.

“It’s so I can get fucked up but still stay hydrated from the electrolytes.” Your hands grazed over the two strands of your hair, very diva like. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s my whole thing..it even went viral on tiktok. Don’t knock it til you try it.”

The drinks arrived quicker than you expected and you downed a couple shots immediately in between sipping the coconut water. Trent nursed his vodka soda with lime, scanning the room with his eyes.

“Don’t be boring” you said, gently shoving two shots closer to him.

“I’m not boring” he replied, eyeing the shots and the way your nails grazed against the top surface of the bar.

“Then prove it. Drink the shots and come dance with me.”

He shook his head before reaching for the shots and downing them both. “I don’t dance.”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up and live a little” you quickly finished the last of your shots and coconut water and then grabbed his hand, leading him to the dancefloor as the curls in your ponytail bounced between the bass reverberating through the club.

The crowd on the dance floor was just as chaotic in a sea of gyrating bodies and heat. You were too tipsy to be sure of what the DJ switched the song to, but it felt seductive and made you sway your hips automatically. The music took control before your brain could even think about it. You turned toward Trent, moving your body to the beat with ease while he watched. He was locked in, staring at you so hard it almost looked like he didn’t realize he was eyeing you like that.

“You’re really not gonna dance?” you teased, tilted your head as you stepped closer with a flirty smirk.

“I told you I don’t–”

“Shut up Trent” you playfully grabbed his hand and pulled him further into the crowd. “Just dance with me.”

As the alcohol coursed through you, you let your hips find the beat, rolling against him with just enough pressure to test him. You felt him tense up behind you, holding his hands just above your waist like he didn’t know whether to grab you or run away.

“Aren’t you Jamaican?” you yelled over your shoulder with a smirk. “Just relax and let the beat find you.”

He let out an exhale and finally rested his hand on your hip. You arched back a little, grinding into him more and his other hand landed on your ass. His body was betraying him and his breath quickened, trying to think of anything else but your ass grinding against his dick so he wouldn’t get hard. His jaw was tight but then his lips parted when his eyes dropped to the way you were rolling your hips against him. He was barely blinking as he stared. Trent’s grip tightened just enough for you to become aware of it.

“You like dancing, don’t you?” you teased again.

“This isn’t dancing.”

“No?” you dared, grinding against him harder. “Then what is it?”

Trent’s fingers dug into your waist and pulled you up against him. His head dipped closer to your neck and he bit his lip like he was fighting the urge to kiss you there. The lines were quickly blurring in the fog of alcohol and you weren’t sure who was pushing harder to cross them. His breath was hot against your neck as you danced up against him. You felt something stiffen against his lower half but you were so tipsy you thought it was his phone. Trent abruptly pulled back, letting go of you as you stood there confused.

“I need a drink.” He turned back toward the crowd, leaving you standing there trying to catch your breath. Your heart was pounding and your body was bouncing with energy that had nowhere to go thanks to the shots and coconut water you had. Before you knew it, a voice yelled your name, but it wasn’t Trent.

It was Levi Colwill.

“Ahh, Y/N! Trent’s better half” Levi slid into Trent’s place, handing you a shot. “Got your favorite.”

You handed it back to him, forcing a smile. “Levi…”

“You look like you could use some better company” he eyed the outline of your body. “Not that Trent’s bad but..you know I’ll dance with you. Just saying.”

You rolled your eyes but still laughed at him...because you were drunk. “Still stirring the pot like always.”

“You know that’s what I do” He downed the shot you refused. “What you been up to? I know you’re exhausted pretending to be with Trent.”

The alcohol made you bolder. “You get me! He’s so annoying sometimes.”

Levi stepped closer, yelling into your ear over the music. “You know where to find me. Send me a DM when it’s all–”

“Levi” Trent slurred in an irritated tone. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Levi shook his head, sipping the drink in hand and then smirked at Trent. “I was just saying hello.”

Trent gripped your wrist firmly but not painful as he pulled you away from Levi and into a quieter corner of the club, which just so happened to be near the bar’s exit where the paps were waiting for the perfect moment to take pictures.

“What the hell was that?” you hissed, yanking your arm free.

“What was what?” Trent snapped back.

“Dragging me away like some jealous boyfriend. That’s not part of the script Trent.”

Trent’s jaw clenched and he stepped closer, leaning into your ear. “You were enjoying that too much. We’re supposed to be together..you can’t flirt with other guys here.”

You laughed, not believing your ears. “Are you dumb?! You walked away like you couldn’t handle it! I’m just trying to have fun tonight.”

“I walked away because you were making me hard.” he shot back in a drunken state, not realizing what he just admitted to.

Your brain short circuited under the fog of alcohol as the music thumped around you. All you could focus on was the thought of Trent standing in front of you, hard, because you danced on him. Then your brain took it a step further and you remembered the night his towel slipped. You had a split glimpse of him on soft and now your tipsy mind was wondering what it looked like on hard. You felt the heat from your cheeks trail down slowly, making your mouth feel dry and knees weak. You were trying to think of literally anything else but the alcohol coursing through your veins wasn't doing you any favors and neither was the way he was looking at you. Trent’s teeth pulled at his bottom lip like he was fighting his thoughts too. You shifted closer to him, playing with a strand of hair framing your face.

“Trent..” you began in a whisper. You didn’t know if you wanted to apologize, flirt, or tell him to just kiss you. His head dipped toward yours as his lips inched toward yours slowly. You were leaning in without even realizing it and his hands hovered over your waist hesitantly. Your eyes dropped to his lips and you saw him lick his lips like he was priming them.

“Y/N!”

A shrill voice broke through whatever was about to happen and you blinked back as someone grabbed your arm. It was another influencer you knew from a brand event but you couldn’t remember her name in your drunken state. She grinned and hugged you like she didn’t just ruin the most dramatic non-kiss of your life.

“Oh my days, girl I haven’t seen you in forever!” she yelled, dragging you toward a VIP booth that was probably just as chaotic as the rest of the club. Trent stood there with an unreadable expression watching as you were pulled away. He turned his gaze to the paparazzi outside who were very pissed they didn’t get their perfect shot.

Just as the countdown to midnight was about to begin, you found your way back to Trent. The club was louder than ever as the final minutes of the year ticked away. Trent was still in the same spot, nursing a fresh drink while the other hand was shoved in his pocket. He noticed you before you could say anything and you saw his eyes lock onto you with a certain look in his eye.

“Perfect timing” you giggled when you reached him, pulling him closer toward the exit where the paps were standing guard. “This is where Tyler wants us so let’s just get it over with.” You positioned yourselves near the glass doors so they would have a better view. The cold air from outside cooled you down a little, but it did nothing to knock any sort of clarity into you. As soon as the crowd started counting down, the air became tented with anticipation.

10...

9...

Your heart was beating fast against your chest and the alcohol made every sensation feel way stronger. You tilted your face up a little to meet his eyes, but he was already staring at you. Trent’s hand reached to cup your chin and tilt your face further upward.

8...

7...

His thumb brushed over the corner of your lip and the sensation made you exhale softly. He looked you in the eyes first, then at your lips, then back up at your eyes again, making you feel dizzy yet excited at the same time.

6...

5...

You parted your lips slightly with heavily lidded eyes. Both of you were supposed to be ‘acting’ but whatever was going on right now was not staged. His other hand found the dip in your waist, pulling you close enough to feel the fire in his eyes.

4...

3...

You leaned in at the same time, moving on instinct from the magnetism as the cameras outside began to flash. The paps were losing their minds and the shutters went off wildly, but all you could think about was how badly you wanted this kiss.

2...

1...

The room erupted into loud yelling, cheers, and champagne bottles popping as fireworks lit up the London sky outside. The second the cloud struck midnight, Trent’s lips lit a flame in you that made your whole body have goosebumps. His hand found your ass, gripping it firm enough to make you gasp and the tiny noise coming out of you motivated him even more. Your body arched into his as you continued kissing him in a way too entirely real make out session. You palmed the fabric over his dick and he groaned into your mouth, making you moan into his mouth in response. The crowd around you celebrated to a very random club remix of Auld Lang Syne but you were too wrapped up in him to care about celebrating the new year.

You finally pulled back breathless while staring at him. His lips were a little swollen but the fire was still in his eyes.

“We need to leave before they get the wrong pics” you blurted out, slurring your words from being tipsy but also flustered.

“Yeah” he said with his hand still on the curve of your back. “Hotel?”

“Hotel.”

When you made it back to the hotel and the lift doors closed, your back hit the mirrored wall as Trent pinned you into the corner. His hand slid over your thighs and the fabric of your dress bunched up.

“Thought I annoyed you” he muttered against your ear as his fingers slipped between your thighs.

“You still do” you replied back sassily, but then you gasped when he found the thin strap of your thong and tugged it against the folds of your pussy. The friction made you whimper and you dug your nails into his arm for stability. “But I can multitalk.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, gripping your thigh to open you up more. His other hand kept working the fabric of the thong, sliding it up and down until you were grinding against his knuckles. “Fuck you're soaked. This for me?”

“Shut up” you hissed while tugging at the button of his jeans with shaky fingers. When the lift dinged on your floor, you barely made it to the room before his hands were pulling, grabbing, and claiming you. He pressed you against a huge window of the hotel room while the fireworks were still popping off in the night sky.

“Take it off” you demanded, yanking at Trent’s shirt.

He pulled it over his head to show off his toned, muscled body that had been haunting you since the towel accident. You didn’t have much time to admire any of it because his hands were already undoing your dress, dropping it to your feet. The cool glass of the window pressed up against your bare skin and you shook a little when his lips latched on your neck, sucking and biting while his hands roamed over you. You moaned his name in a whimpered beg and arched into him when his mouth moved down to your boobs. His tongue ran over your nipple and he wrapped his lips around it, suckling gently and massaging the other with his hand. You gasped, clutching his shoulders and melting your body into his.

“You beg so pretty” he murmured against your skin. “What do you want, pretty girl? Tell me.”

“You” you panted in a trembling voice. “I need you inside me now.”

Trent groaned and ran his fingers between your folds to find your clit. The circles he rubbed against the sensitive nub made you moan loudly. “Not yet,” he rasped. “Need to feel how ready you are.” A broken sob escaped you when his fingers slid inside your pussy. His fingers were long enough to reach a spot that made your knees weak as he worked you open. Your head fell against the window as the squelch of your wetness filled the hotel room.

“Good girl” he coaxed, and your walls clenched around his fingers in response. He laughed and you could feel his smirk against your skin. “You like that, huh? You like being told how good you are?”

“Yesss” you gasped, grinding against his hand. “Fuck yes.”

He pulled his fingers out and you whined but the sound quickly turned into a needy moan when he ran the tip of his dick over your slit. He lined himself up, gripping your thighs to lift you up and push into you.

“DAMN” he groaned loudly, leaning his head back in both pleasure and disbelief from how you were gripping him. “You feel so fucking good gripping me.” You felt the curve when he stroked deeper, each thrust pressing you against the glass while the fireworks mirrored whatever was going on in this hotel room. “You’re so noisy” he teased when he heard you moan his name. He reached between your thighs to play with your clit again. “You want everyone to hear me fucking you, don’t you? You like that shit.”

You nodded, too far gone to care about anything but the feeling. “Oh my god, yes! Please don’t stop. You’re fucking me so good.”

Trent’s mouth latched to your neck again, leaving a mark you were going to have to cover up later. His hands gripped your ass, pulling you closer as he thrust harder..deeper. Your moans were nonstop, echoing against the window while he pounded into you.

“You’re creaming all over me” he groaned, dropping his eyes to his dick thrusting in and out of you with the perfect rhythm. “Look at that. Such a good girl for me.”

His praise and coaxing made you shatter. Your walls clenched around him while your orgasm rained over your thighs and onto him. Moaning cries mixed with his curses and filled the room until he took one last deep stroke into you and pulled out of you. You lowered yourself to take him in your mouth, sucking gently on his tip as ropes of cum filled your mouth. You got back up, very shaky and wobbly, but he wasn’t done yet. Trent carried you to the bed, lifting you up on top of him. Both of you were too far gone to care about the contract by that point and spent the rest of the night partaking in some ultra festive activities to bring in the new year as fireworks continued to pop off in the distance. 

The morning after, the sunlight was streaming through the large window you had just been fucked against the night before. It way too bright for how you were feeling now, even after the coconut water. Your head was pounding and you still felt groggy. Your lashes were barely clinging on and you forgot to do your skincare routine before falling asleep thanks to your activities. You groaned and reached for your phone, fumbling with it in your hands while Trent moved from somewhere else in the room to hand you a cup of coffee. 

“Good morning” he smirked at you, knowing exactly why you were in the state you were in. 

“Morning...and thank you” you muttered in a scratchy voice from a mix of sleep and..other activities. You took a look at yourself with your front camera and you snorted. Your hair was all over the place, your makeup was smudged and one of your lashes was hanging off. You took a glance back over at Trent, who had faint scratches on his back, making you laugh harder. The chaos was oddly on brand for the authentic, slightly unhinged content you were known for, so you decided to capture the moment to post online. 

You opened the camera app and switched to the wide angle just to make it that more authentic. You held your coffee cup in your hand with your messy hair and hanging lash on full display. In the background, Trent was off to the edge of the frame where only part of him could be seen digging through his distinctive Goyard wash bag, oblivious to his surprise cameo. You typed out the caption ‘Happy New Year 🥴✨’ and added it to the photo in white text before posting it on your story. You didn’t have to check the notifications...you knew what you did.

By the time you showered and made yourself look put together, your post had been picked up by SpillTheBeansUK where they did a full deep dive. Their post was a carousel of screenshots. The first was your original story in its chaotic glory, the second was a cropped version zoomed in on Trent’s hand digging into his bag and the faint lining of the side of his head, the third was a side by side of all the previous photos to confirm it was him.

SpillTheBeansUK: Happy New Year from Y/N and Trent Alexander-Arnold! 👀

realmrsTAA: sobbing into my pillow rn I KNOW THAT BAG

ynfansince2019: not her lashes hanging like that. IKTR QUEEN

yn_onlyyn: she’s so me coded i love her

leafygreens05: TRENT BABE TELL ME THIS ISN’T U?!? ARE THOSE SCRATCHES?

ballerbabyy: this feels like i’m on facetime with a friend i love her sm and they’re so cute

notyourfootiebae: Y/N and Trent 🏆 romeocruz: 😒

You laughed as you scrolled through the comments. Trent walked in, ready to head out for breakfast. Although, he was entirely too calm for someone who had just been moaning your name while you were bouncing on him just a few hours ago.

When you sat across from him during breakfast at the hotel restaurant, the realization of everything hit you all at once. You didn’t want this to end. Not the public antics, banter, or things with Trent. He was looking at his phone, scrolling through his apps. Unbeknownst to you, he was deleting his dating apps. All of them.

Meanwhile you were spiralling. Quietly, but definitely still spiralling. 

“What happens when this is over?” you asked quietly, cutting through your eggs benedict. 

He looked up, pausing his thumb over the delete button of the last app. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, stabbing at the food with a vanished appetite. “The contract. When June comes and we’re supposed to ‘break up’... What happens then?”

Trent deleted the final app and set his phone down to look at you. “I don’t know,” he admitted in a quiet voice.

You laughed, trying to mask your nerves. “Well that’s not reassuring.”

“Why?” He asked, tilting his head. “You worried about something?”

Your fork tapped against the hollandaise sauce on your food while you gathered what you wanted to say. “Um..well..this whole thing started off as a job for your image. But now....” you trailed off and looked at him.

“Now?” he prompted, locked on your eyes.

“Now it feels...different.” you admitted. “It doesn’t feel fake anymore. At least not for me.”

You thought he would smirk and have some comeback ready but he didn’t this time. Instead, he leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed loosely. “Doesn’t feel fake to me either.”

“Really?”

“Yeah” Trent leaned forward to rest his arms on the table. “It started off as a contract but I think that changed a little...we both know that.”

You stared at him. “So..what are you saying?”

“I’m saying we don’t have to stop,” he replied, never taking his eyes off you. “We don’t have to make a huge deal about it or anything but I don’t want to stop seeing you. It feels…” He trailed off to search for the right words.

“Like something worth exploring?” you offered, finishing his sentence.

He nodded, giving you his signature smirk, but this time it made you melt a little. “Yeah. Like that.”

--

The day the public stint of the contract was supposed to end came and went like any other day. You and Trent kept seeing each other instead of posting fake launch photos like the contract originally suggested after NYE. Tyler was smug about it the minute he found out, thinking he was the best Cupid ever. The last time you saw him, he handed you a Valentine’s Day PR brief with a grin.

“Guess we’re not cancelling the hard launch then?” he asked in a satisfied tone. You wanted to throw the folder at him, but he was right. You weren’t going anywhere and neither was Trent. Your fans adored the idea of you with him. There were multiple theories flooding your comment section daily, micro analyzing every interaction. Meanwhile, Trent’s fans reluctantly admitted he looked happy in a relationship for once. 

The hard launch came in the form of a Youtube video thanks to the fans: Boyfriend Rates My Outfits

Your followers were begging for this video for weeks. You never announced having a boyfriend but they knew you better than that. You didn’t plan on giving in but Trent was all for it. Your chaos had rubbed off on him, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“Do it” he said one night while laying in bed with you at your place after a date night. “It’ll be funny.”

“Funny for who?” you replied, rolling your eyes.

“For me.”

Eventually you agreed, and the video started with you sitting in front of your neatly organized wardrobe, clasping your hands together. “Okay..you’ve all been asking for it so we’re doing a ‘boyfriend rates my outfits’ video today. My man isn’t really a fashion connoisseur so don’t expect much.”

Trent’s voice came in from behind the camera, already flirty. “Nah, I have taste, don’t set me up like that.”

“Do you?” you countered, laughing as you disappeared to change into the first outfit.

You strutted back in the room wearing high waisted jeans, a blazer and a cropped top paired with trainers. It was chic and cute enough for a brunch or something similar. Trent zoomed the camera in dramatically on your feet. “Shoes are nice. I’ll give it...an 8.”

“An 8?!” you scoffed, doing a little spin for him. “You’re mad. This is a 10.”

“Ah..okay. 9.5 but only because you look good walking away.”

The next look was a silky midi dress with a thigh high slit, paired with strappy heels. You stepped in the room and did a twirl for the cam.

Trent let out a whistle. “11. Easily.”

“You can’t give it an 11!” you protested, hands on your hip.

“Why not?” he grinned. “I’d take you out in that.. maybe in Greece or Spain.”

For the third look, you went full streetwear and wore cargos, a fitted crop top, a leather jacket, and chunky boots. Trent panned the camera up and down with a lot of dramatics. “You look like you’re about to rob somebody.”

“Trent!”

“Hey, I’m into it though! Come rob me baby” he added quickly, smirking. “9 out of 10.”

The final outfit was a red mini dress with an open back that hugged you in all the right places, paired with heels and a statement purse. Trent was quiet as he looked at you, shaking the camera while he adjusted the focus. “Goddamn. That’s a 12.”

“A 12?” you laughed, walking up to the camera and playfully covering the lens while giving him a kiss. “You’re not supposed to go over 10, T.”

“I don’t care. You’re breaking the scale.”

Trent turned the camera to face the both of you as both of you smiled into the lens. “Alright. Like, comment, subscribe, and…” He trailed off, lowering the camera a little and looked at your lips. He whispered, thinking the mic wouldn’t catch anything but it did. “...and turn this off so I can take this dress off you.”

Your jaw dropped and you swatted at his chest playfully, giggling. “You’re going to get me demonetized if you keep talking like that.”

As you edited the video, you decided to leave that part in there because it was funny and also cute. The comments rolled in quickly when word spread around online about it:

ynbabydoll: THE WHISPER AT THE END??? HELLO? I’M FERAL

ynstanclub: trent stuns in Y/N’s youtube video!!

ynplustrent: the way the cam shook when she came out in that dress....i know they get real nasty

spicynsaucy: UNCOVER THE LENS I WANNA SEE IT

footieNfashion: why is this more compelling than any press interview he’s ever done?

LFCStan44: this feels like i shouldn’t be in the room watching them rn but i’m here for it idk. love to see him back to his happy old self

FreeKickFiend: ugh..the way he sounds when he called her baby. that should be me

YNWADefenseNeeded: bro’s focus on this video is what we need on the pitch ALL the time RedKisses98: this man has forgotten we exist. thanks a lot Y/N

You shut your laptop after the premiere of the video and sunk into the couch next to Trent. He was scrolling through the comments on his phone, with that same infuriating, yet extremely attractive smirk on his face.

“You’re really enjoying this huh?” you nudged him with your elbow in a teasing tone.

“Of course,” he replied without looking up. “I’m the star of your channel now.”

You shook your head, laughing. “Very bold of you to assume they’re watching for you.”

Finally, he looked from his phone, cupping your chin and pulling you into a kiss. “Nah...but I’m here for you though. Fully off script. No contract needed.”

[guiltyandashamed]

hiii!!! could you do brothers + side characetrs with an mc who is famous on devilgram? like ever since they came to RAD they became super popular online :D thanx!!!!

headcannons: devilgram-famous MC (brothers + side characters)

From the moment you arrived in the Devildom, Devilgram became your outlet. You posted everything, your outfits, your food, funny observations about Devildom life.Your page quickly gained traction. Now you have brand deals, fans, and even the occasional paparazzi moment at RAD.

Lucifer

At first, he brushes it off. "If it doesn't interfere with your academic performance, I have no reason to be concerned."

Then he sees how successful you are—Sponsors reaching out for promotion or looking to get into business with you. He makes sure you aren't getting exploited, are promoting the right people, and maintain a respectable image.

It's helped you elevate yourself professionally, and he respects your hard work ethic when it comes to taking your position seriously.

Slightly more possessive in public when you're approached by admirers. A gentle hand on your back. A subtle glare that makes fans back off without realizing why.

Mammon

Loudly and immediately obsessed.

Starts posting with you constantly. Tries to leverage your fame for duo sponsorship deals “Get rich together, ya know?”

Deep down, he’s insanely proud. Shows your posts to his modeling friends like, “See that? That’s my human.”

But also gets jealous when fans get too flirty in the comments. Starts hearting every comment that mentions your relationship, even if you’re not officially dating.

Obsessed with fan edits of you. Tries to hide that he watches them, but you can see it in the reflection of his sunglasses.

Leviathan

Has an existential crisis. “You’re more popular than I am on Devilgram… you’re living the normie dream…”

Starts watching your follower count rise like it’s a real-time leaderboard. Gets nervous when you surpass his favorite stars.

Softens up when you post a photo of you two gaming together, calling him your “best coach.” You even tag him. He stares at it for hours.

Gets extra shy when fans recognize him in your videos.

Feels somewhat jealous that tons of people admire you, besides him. You comfort him, “All they see is a person on a screen. You get to see the real me,” which makes him smile and nestle a little closer.

Satan

At first: indifferent. “Social media isn’t exactly my scene.”

But once he realizes how cleverly you use your platform, highlighting Devildom culture, normalizing interrealm relations, he’s genuinely impressed.

“You’ve created a kind of social bridge. I respect that."

Gets incredibly flustered when you post a 3-second video of yourself with a cat. The public seems to go crazy over it, he does too.

Gets very defensive if anyone posts rude comments. He’ll never say it out loud, but you once caught him trying to trace a troll’s IP.

Has a folder on his D.D.D. titled “Their Best Posts.” You pretend not to see it.

Asmodeus

He's thrilled. “You’re famous? Oh, we simply must collaborate!”

Loves being seen with you, you're both beautiful, you both have fans, and you both know how to pose for the camera.

He understands attention better than anyone else, and he knows how intoxicating and isolating it can be.

Offers to help you with skincare routines, posing tips, PR strategy, partly because he wants to help, partly to stay close.

He also gets more clingy in private. “They all want you, darling... but you’re mine tonight, right?”

Beelzebub

He doesn’t really understand the whole Devilgram fame thing, but he gets that it makes you happy. That’s all that matters to him.

At RAD, when fans swarm you, he calmly stands between you and the crowd, not to block them entirely, just to make sure you’re safe and not overwhelmed.

He especially likes your food posts. Thinks it's cool that other people like to see food too.

You’re never just a screen persona to him. You’re someone who laughs with him at breakfast, helps him find rare protein bars, and brings him quiet peace in a world full of noise.

“I don’t care how many followers you have. You’re already important.”

Belphegor

Acts like he doesn’t care. “Tch. So what if you’re popular now? That doesn’t mean anything.”

But he watches from the sidelines more than you think. Lurking in the tags. Scrolling when he can’t sleep.

The moment you start getting approached at RAD, his mood dips. He doesn’t like strangers looking at you like they know you.

Despite the sharpness, there's a vulnerability underneath. He’s afraid of being left behind, forgotten in the blur of lights and fans.

He won’t admit it out loud, but he clings harder when you’re alone together. “Don’t let them take you away from here. From me.”

Diavolo

He thinks it’s fantastic. The Devildom needs more human-devil cultural exchange, and you’re a living ambassador.

His support is big-picture. He encourages you to use your platform wisely and offers official RAD sponsorships or protections if needed.

However, when he sees how people crowd around you or speak to you overly familiar, there's a flicker of protectiveness.

“You're doing wonderfully, but remember, you're not obligated to be available to everyone.”

Occasionally invites you for PR events or asks if you’d like to co-host a Devildom-wide livestream. Always gives you the option to say no.

Barbatos

He’s largely neutral outwardly, but very aware behind the scenes. He monitors your online activity and fan interactions like a hawk, purely to assess threats.

Subtly reroutes suspicious or overzealous fans before they get close. You may never know how often he's intervened.

He offers you quiet reminders: “It’s wise to schedule rest periods. Even stardom mustn’t replace self-care.”

Helps you manage time between your obligations and online work. If you have a shoot or sponsorship, he’s already rearranged your RAD schedule to accommodate it.

He doesn't compliment often, but when he does, it’s precise: “You handled that interview well. Controlled, charming, and sincere. Admirable.”

Solomon

Oh, he thinks it's hilarious, and impressive. “Guess I’m not the only famous human in the Devildom anymore.”

Loves to tease you: “Should I start calling you 'Your Influencer Highness'?”

But he also offers practical help. He’s seen what fame can do to people, and he quietly checks in if your confidence falters.

“Fame’s a fun illusion. Just don’t forget who you are when the lights are off.”

When fans push too far, he’s not above sending them a politely cursed message.

Simeon

Supportive in a very grounding way. “Your success is lovely to see, but more lovely is the kindness you still show.”

Watches your rise with a gentle fondness, like a proud mentor or older brother.

Offers advice if you ever feel overwhelmed by the attention.

Helps you sort through fan mail, especially when it becomes too much. Keeps you emotionally anchored.

He makes sure you still have private, sacred spaces where you can just be yourself, with no cameras.

Mephistopheles

Incredibly bitter that you're more popular than the RAD newspaper he runs. “So you take selfies and suddenly you’re Devildom royalty?”

Has tried (unsuccessfully) to get you to guest-write an article for the paper to boost his own traction.

Occasionally shows up in your tagged posts looking way too smug.

While he pretends it’s all business, he gets quietly flustered when fans ship you two.

Thirteen

She's amused by the whole thing. “You? A Devilgram star? Never thought I’d see the day.”

She makes fun of you constantly for being famous, but secretly watches every story.

Teases you like: “Careful, don’t trip over your fanbase on your way to class.”

If you ever feel down because of rude comments or pressure, she’s the first to call it out.

“Want me to rig their phone with exploding hexes? No? Just say the word."

Doesn’t treat you differently and likes that you are still you, despite the fame.

Raphael

Skeptical at first. “Why do so many people need to see what you ate for breakfast?”

Doesn’t understand the appeal of social media, but respects that it makes you happy.

Has to learn to be okay with the attention you get, he's the type to walk just a little closer when fans crowd you, not possessive, just… present.

If you ever express that you're tired of the pressure, he listens seriously and offers calm advice.

“Then take a step back. You’re not obligated to be seen constantly to be real.”

[empty-movement]

Chiho Saito’s 1999 Revolutionary Girl Utena Original Illustration Collection

IT’S HERE. IT’S DONE. IT’S FINISHED. NOW…IT’S YOURS. Happy Holidays, my friends.

Vanna here! I have posted some already about this project, and the responses I got, public and otherwise, have been absolutely incredible. Y’all have been reblogging and hyping this before it even finished…I haven’t felt so encouraged about an Utena project since the musicals! (Yes, streams soon, I promise.) You can read the other post to get more details, and catch my post here with more details about the process if you’re interested. The long and short of it?

This is the first artbook I ever scanned. I did it in 2001. In Photoshop, using multiple scans per page that took hours to process. But it was 2001. A half megabyte file that was 1250px wide was considered extremely hardcore and impressive. That’s just always been the business I’m in when it comes to Utena art, you know? 

It’s now the latest artbook I’ve scanned, and so much of the process, and effort involved, is unchanged. What has changed, is the result. Welcome to your new desktop background. Your new phone background. Your new poster print. 

What I’ve done here is attempt to create definitive digitized images of Chiho Saito’s work as offered by this book--I have removed the print moiré of the original scans, and used my literal decades of experience to try and tease out as much information from them as possible. Without being physically in front of the original artwork (which is a thing I’ve had the great fortune to get to do) this is The Most Chiho Saito you are ever going to get. I’ve tried my best to make sure there is a way to get it that works for everyone:

Do you just wanna scope 'em out? Look at some disaster gays? Grab your favorite one or two? This is the path for you! Check out the ‘compressed’ (not very) 10k ‘web friendly’ (not really) copy at the Bibliothèque, the media archiving wing of the Something Eternal forums at Empty Movement*. All the following links are also available from here. Do you want these copies? All of them? Don't just grab them individually, friend. This batch is 375MB and can be downloaded as a zip of the individual files here on our Google Drive.

Do you like digital archiving? Are you looking for a copy that preserves the archival quality of the effort but sits nice and comfy in a single file? This is for you. A minimally compressed 10k, 513MB version worked into a PDF is now up, shiny and chrome, on the Internet Archive. Do you like the idea of the minimal compression, but want the individual files in a zip? Yep I did that too, here's the drive link.

Are you looking to print these in a larger size? This is probably the only reason on Earth you’d ever want them, and yet a bunch of you are going to go straight for these. Here are the zero-compression JPG full size copies, most of them are 15k across, like simply a ridiculous size. Pick your fave and download it from our Google Drive! 

I am genuinely really proud of this work.** I was able to tease out so much new detail from these…her incredible layering techniques, the faintest brush of her highlights, and the full range of her delicate hand at whites and blacks… details commonly lost in digitization. I sincerely hope you find something here that you’re looking for, as an artist looking for inspiration, as a weeb looking for a desktop, as an archiver excited to see incredible 90s manga artwork saved forever in the digital realm. I feel like I have already said so much about them, and could keep going, but you know what? This work speaks for itself. Enjoy, use, explore, and definitely tell us what you think!

We love y’all. ~ Vanna & Yasha

* AHEM ASTERISK AHEM

You might be wondering what any of that is. Something Eternal? Biblewhatawhat??? EmptyMovement.com? You might even have done a double take at the word ‘forum.’ And you should!!!

I have a confession. This artbook was my ‘side project’ as I worked on this, *the main project.* For a couple years I’ve been banging around with a new domain, and originally I had other plans for it, but Elon Musk ruined my Twitter and Discord is well along on its way to enshittification, and well….we joke on the Discord a lot about ‘reject modernity, embrace forums’ and you know what? We’re right. So Yasha and I are putting our money where our mouths are once again, and doing something insane. We are launching, in 2023, a website forum. Obviously, this is not the official ‘launch’ per se, but I cannot announce the artbook without directing you to the forum, since it sits on the attached very cool gallery system. Oops! Told on myself. Another post more focused on the forum will be forthcoming, but if you are just that motivated to get in right away, you absolutely can! (This will help stagger new arrivals anyway, which is good for us!) If you would rather wait for the ‘official’ launch, by all means that’s coming, including a lengthy screed about how and why we’re doing this. In either case, remember: this is a couple weebs trying to make internet magic happen, we are not website developers by trade. Give us grace as we iron things out and grow into this cool new website thingie…hopefully along with some of you! :D

If you do join up, naturally, there is a thread about this project!

** If you like this kind of content, consider helping us pay for it! We do have a Patreon! If you’re wanting to use these in some public-facing distributive way, all we ask is for credit back to Empty Movement (ohtori.nu or emptymovement.com, either will work.) 

I would like to say ‘don’t just slap these files on RedBubble to get easy money’ but I know that saying this won’t effectively prevent it. Y’all that do that suck, but you’re not worth letting it rain on the rest of this parade. :)

[sirfrogsworth]

Megapixel Survey - What do you know about them pixels?

I've been trying to write a post explaining megapixels (and Ks) for over a year now. I have had trouble gathering the data I needed to do it properly. But I just solved that problem and I want to start working on it. But I could use a little help.

Please answer the questions below. I'd ask that you not look at other answers before you give yours.

I'd like to hear from photographers and non-photographers. In fact, if you know nothing about cameras I'm most interested in your answers.

And please remember, I'm not trying to trick you or make you look foolish. And I don't want you to guess an answer based on what you feel *I* believe is correct. I'm not looking for you to impress me. I need your real answer.

Perhaps draw on your past impressions of megapixels when you were looking for a new camera or phone and what your thought process was.

I just want to know how educated people are about megapixels. And Ks for video (2K, 4K, 8K, etc). It's all the same thing.

You can answer all or none of these. Whatever you have the time or energy for. Any input is helpful. And if you do have extra time or energy, feel free to expand on your answers. Thank you!

(If you shoot more video than photos, you can answer the questions by substituting Ks for megapixels.)

Megapixel Questions

1. What advantage do you think having more megapixels gives you? (Not a trick question. There is an advantage.)

2. When you look at specs for a camera (smartphone or traditional), are megapixels the first thing you look for?

3. If you are upgrading your smartphone and the new model has more megapixels, do you feel confident the camera will perform better because of the increased megapixels?

4. What do you feel is a satisfactory amount of megapixels for a smartphone?

5. What do you feel is a satisfactory amount of megapixels for a traditional camera?

6. When you see the following image comparing a 48MP (4K video) Apple smartphone to a Samsung 200MP (8K video), does the fact that a phone has that many megapixels impress you?

7. If you were to guess a percentage, how much more detail can the 200MP camera capture than the 48MP? (Again, not a trick question, the Samsung does capture more detail.)

8. Do you feel like Apple is falling behind in their camera technology? (They only recently went above 12MP in their phones.)

9. This camera set the current record for capturing the most detail possible (outside of scientific instruments). Without googling, how many megapixels do you think it has?

That's it!

Thank you to anyone who answers. I am really hoping this will be my best photography post I've ever written. I've been collecting images and data for this for a very long time. It's actually a really fascinating topic. And I hope it will help you with your purchasing decisions.

[prettycalla]

|| in ruinas ||

Pairing: Geta/Empress!Reader

Summary: You interrupt Geta's plans for you, but he's rather good at improvising.

Tags and warnings: Smut (not overly explicit, but it's still very obvious what's going on), exhibitionism, Geta is even more of a nuisance, no use of Y/N. 18+!! Minors, please do not interact!!

Word count: 1.4k (approx.)

(My Emperor playlists are entirely at fault for me writing this. I guess this is set in the same world as my last fic? I've proofread it like three times, but I'm tired, so hopefully it reads okay!)

Masterlist

“We do not have time, beloved,” you had said as your husband had sleepily tried to pull you back into his arms.

This morning had been the first in a while that the two of you had been able to enjoy each other's presence for more than a brief moment, and Geta had clearly intended to make the most of it.

“You would deny me,” he replied, his voice still thick with sleep.

“The games begin today,” you told him, slipping yourself free from his grasp, though not without some measure of difficulty. “Are you not excited?”

Geta dragged himself upright, rubbing his hand over his face in an attempt to rouse himself.

“I am,” he replied groggily, “Though it is for another reason entirely.”

A laugh escaped you at his words. How sweet in his depravity he is.

It was then that Caracalla had all but burst into the room, brimming with excitement about the games, and no more was said about it.

You are certainly regretting your actions now.

He had been on his best behaviour throughout the entire day - exchanging pleasantries with the guests, bickering no more than usual with his brother, and as always, he had had the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand when the Master of Ceremonies had announced the arrival of the Imperial party.

His little plan this morning had been forgotten about. Or so you had thought.

As is your custom, you sit close to him in his ornate throne in the Emperor’s box. There had been talk of crafting a chair of your own, but Geta had quickly dismissed it. He likes having you close like this, and you certainly do not mind. There is enough room for the pair of you to sit comfortably - not that Geta ever keeps his distance for very long.

As if on cue, his arm winds around your waist, pulling you close to his side. You briefly lean your head on his shoulder affectionately before casting your gaze to the arena below. While you were never particularly fond of the bloodshed of the gladiator games, you understand how important they are to the people of Rome, and while he may not necessarily agree with your stance, Geta has become a little more merciful to the fighters since your union as husband and wife.

Your attention is soon drawn elsewhere, however, as your husband’s hand begins to wander from your waist. Innocently at first, along your hip, down your thigh, your knee, where he begins slowly inching the fabric of your stola up.

“Husband,” you chide, lightly swatting at his hand.

He stops, if only for a moment, before continuing what he has started. His hand slides under the fabric, fingertips grazing against the bare skin of your thighs.

“Geta,” you hiss in exasperation, your eyes wide as you turn to look at him.

Geta, however, seems entirely focused on the arena below, even as his hand continues to make its ascent.

You try to slap his hand again, harder this time, but he is persistent and you are weak to his touch.

His hand proceeds further, further, until-

You let out a shrill yelp. Fortunately for you, one of the gladiators lands an impressive blow upon the other at that very moment, and the crowd erupts in a thunderous roar, drowning out the embarrassing sound that has slipped free from your mouth.

You glare at your husband. He is grinning. To the unknowing eye, he is the very image of a man enjoying the excitement of the Colosseum. But you know better.

His hand moves again, tracing precise little patterns against you, and you bite your lip to stifle the whimper threatening to escape you. Even with his attention distracted, he still knows how to play you like a lyre.

You hazard a brief glance to your right, praying to the Gods that you do not have an audience. Fortunately for you, Caracalla is entirely enraptured by the battle playing out below, not letting his gaze wander elsewhere for even a second. For that, at least, you are grateful.

You turn your attention back to your beastly husband as you attempt to arrange the skirts of your stola to hide what he is doing if someone were to happen a glance in your direction.

“Geta, you cannot do this. Not here,” you plead, attempting to reason with him.

At that, he stops. You breath a small sigh of relief, until you realise that his hand has not moved from you. He leans in close to you, breath tickling your ear.

“You will continue what I have started,” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear him.

Just as you thought the situation cannot possibly worsen for you.

“What?” you gasp.

“You heard me.”

He looks at you then, gaze unwavering as he takes your hand and places it over his. His pupils are blown wide, and you are at least relieved to know that he is not as unaffected as he has been acting.

“Show me," he says, demanding.

You tilt your head, looking down the length of your nose at him in an attempt to gain even a little leverage.

“I have had enough of this,” you tell him sternly.

Geta laughs at that, soft and low, the sound sending a shiver through you.

“Have you now?” he asks, his tone mocking.

“Yes. I have,” you insist, though you have made no attempt to remove his hand from where it lies hidden.

“Tell me to stop,” he commands.

He watches you closely, like a lion circling its prey.

“Tell me to stop," he says again, "and mean it."

You open your mouth to speak, but words have failed you.

“As I thought,” he murmurs. "You are enjoying this."

He grips your hand then, not enough to hurt, but certainly enough to send another little shiver through you.

"Do not keep me waiting, wife."

The little whine that escapes you is entirely involuntary, and you would continue to believe so until your very last breath. Geta is no stranger to leaving you at a loss for words, but now... It is as if something has awoken in him. Something untamed, feral.

You do not dislike it.

Daring to let your eyes fall closed, you continue where Geta had keep you waiting, guiding his fingers against you again, his movements drawing little waves of pleasure from you that gradually become more and more intense with each passing moment.

“What would happen if they knew, I wonder?” Geta asks, his voice pulling you from the heady fog you had fallen into.

You open your eyes to look at him. He nods towards the crowd, their attention captivated by the violence below.

“How would they feel if they knew what their Empress was letting me do to her?" he asks. "That she was enjoying it so."

The smile on his face is downright devilish, and you wish you had the capacity to scold him as he so deserves, but those little waves are quickly becoming a tidal wave, ready to crash down and sweep you away at any moment.

“Geta, I-“

The rest of your words become caught in your throat in your desperation. He knows.

“Sing for me, little songbird,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping passed yours and pressing against you just so-

You tightly clap your free hand over your mouth as he brings you to release, pulling you over the edge again and again. Only when you are squirming and overwhelmed does he finally, mercifully, stop.

A wave of dizziness threatens to overcome you as Geta removes his hand from beneath your stola. He keeps his gaze focused on you as he brings his hand to his mouth, running his tongue over his fingers.

Before you can say anything, your attention is drawn elsewhere.

"Brother!" Caracalla is calling. "They await our decision."

Decision?

Geta smiles at you, then, with such boyish innocence that you think no one would dare believe what he has just done to you.

“Will the Emperors show mercy?” the Master of Ceremonies theatrically cries to the eagerly waiting crowd.

Geta rises to his feet, then, waving grandly as he takes his position next to his brother to rapturous applause.

As the rest of the Colosseum leans forward with rapt attention to hear what the Emperors will decide, you quickly find yourself slumped in exhaustion.

Your husband will most certainly be the death of you. And what a glorious death it will be.

(banners by @ cafekitsune)

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Pac-Man

Debut: a box

We all know Pac-Man in the game. You know Pac-Man in the game. I do not need to explain what he looks like to you, and I am so confident in your knowledge that I simply will not. You know that guy.

Now let's instead look at and talk about Hiro Kimura's interpretation of him as depicted on the Atari 400/800 box art! Let's make this our default vision of the character!

This is Pac-Man. Pac-Man is a striking yellow humanoid with a massive, spherical head, no nose, and a set of rodent-like upper incisors. He's wearing a tank top with his in-game design on it, sneakers with high socks, and, best of all, jorts!

This design DOES register enough as a Pac-Man to me, but aside from how goofy he already is, I can't help but think of him as a Stanley S. SquarePants-style cousin to the original Pac-Man. It's almost uncanny how similar the duos are!

Now, an issue I have with many Ms. Pac-Man designs is that, unlike her husband, she is often given a tiny mouth, not a mouth befitting a woman who eats for a living. How is this Pac-fella's mouth? A bit small, but not as small as the bites he's taking out of those floating plastic discs! I guess it's as much as he can get with that narrow set of teeth.

But geez, reaching for another when he's barely made any progress in the first? I hope he doesn't choke! Since this is a still image, I will give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he is able to chew through these discs like a woodchipper, and we just happen to see the frozen moment where only the first bite was taken. He can turn these macroplastics into microplastics like nobody's business!

And I guess he's in some kind of castle labyrinth, and the ghosts are trying to eat him, specifically. They think he looks Yummy, and I will have to take their word for it. I would not eat this guy, OR his plastic discs! However, there is a reason I am glossing over these ghosts. They're nothing in comparison to... the others.

Yowza in the howza! My word, and then my entire sentence! The ghosts on the unused Atari 2600 cover art (also by Hiro Kimura) are certainly the most viscerally frightening things any Pac has ever had to contend with. It's quite impressive, really! I can see why this art would be replaced, since it is frankly not an accurate representation of the game itself, but dang am I happy just to look at it. The Pacmeister here is very similar to the previous one, but this time, clad in perfect, stainless chrome, for some reason! I'd want to eat this version even less than the previous one.

What I WOULD like to eat, though, are those rectangular prisms he's munching. To me, those are delectable baked lemon bars. I'm also realizing that there's a frog hopping away from the chaos in the bottom right! Strange... perhaps a cheeky Frogger reference? Like, get outta here, Frogger, Pac-Man is better, and it's illegal to like multiple things at once? Well I like BOTH of these wacky box arts! If Capcom can use Bad Box Art Mega Man in a game, perhaps I can hope for Pac-Stanley to return in an amazing digital fashion...?

[witchezandwonderz]

Whispers of the Seer

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word Count: 1.8 k

Ivar’s fist thundered onto the wooden table before him, in turn almost breaking it clean in half. The sudden noise caused your breath to catch and your heart to flutter slightly, although you steadied yourself in a desperate attempt to show as little emotion as possible.

He looked at you, curiosity clouding him. He wanted a reaction from you. In fact, he could almost say that he needed one, for you had shown not an ounce of feeling since he had met you a mere days before. Ivar was used to evoking emotional reactions; it was fair to say that most, if not all residents of Kettegat were scared of Ivar, and his unpredictable ways. You were different.

You had appeared in the dead of night days before, for you had been experiencing the most intense, vivid visions. You had experienced visions since you were a mere child. Your mother and father had kept it quiet, as they knew what would happen if you were found to be a seer. They were not ready to let go of their little girl.

But, as you grew older, so did your visions and connections. You felt yourself growing more powerful, and you wanted to know more. You ran away from home once you felt restricted; you knew that your parents had your best interests at heart, but the gods had chosen you, and that was more special than any human love you felt.

You had visions of people often, both ones whom you recognised, and whom you had never seen before. Ivar was the first that you felt compelled to seek and guide. His bright blue eyes were scratched into your memory, and you felt the need to be close to him. As close as possible. You had always seen Ivar, since you were a child, but not often; a few times a year, perhaps. You did not know his name, you only knew what you saw, and that was not a lot. As you grew older, you pieced information about him together as though it were a puzzle.

You had known that his father, Ragnar Lothbrok had died; that night, you lay as you saw a brief picture of Ragnar in a snake pit. Since that night, your visions of Ivar became more intense and frequent than ever before and you knew that it was finally time to go and visit Ivar, and tell him everything.

“Do you know who I am?” Ivar's voice was low, venomous, but with a thread of curiosity woven through it. “What I am capable of?”

You tilted your head slightly, your hands clasped before you. “I do,” you replied, your tone even. “I know more of you than most, Ivar Ragnarsson. I know the weight of your pain, the fire of your ambition. And I know what the gods have shown me of your future.”

The room grew still, the air charged with unspoken tension.

Ivar breathed, a wide grin stubbornly stood on his lips as his eyes bore into you. Using both hands to grip the steel chair in front of you, you leant forward, ensuring to not break eye contact.

His eyes squinted slightly. “How convenient,” he began, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “that the gods have sent me a seer—one who just so happens to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You stiffened but kept your composure, your hands remaining clasped before you.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his grin widening as he spoke. “Do you know how many women have tried to impress me? How many have thrown themselves at me, hoping to worm their way into my favour?” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And yet none of them were what I wanted. Not one of them matched the image in my mind of what the gods should send me. And now, here you are.” He peered up at you, expecting some sort of reaction. But much to his dismay, you stared at him with the same blank expression, despite your thundering heartbeat.

“I’m supposed to believe,” he continued, his voice now low and sharp, “that out of all the women in all the kingdoms, the one who stands before me now—the perfect match for my tastes, my desires—was sent here by the gods?” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head again. “It sounds like a story a fool would believe.”

Your eyes narrowed, "you are a fool to think that the gods are so against you." You snapped, the echo of your works ricocheting throughout the room. Ivar's head consequently snapped up, his eyes widening due to the sheer shock of how you would dare to speak to him in such a way. His lips curved into a small smile; he liked it.

Ivar nodded his head, in turn encouraging you to continue. To which, you obliged. "Ivar, when your father died, my visions got stronger. I have always seen you, since I was a child. The gods are trying to tell me something. Destiny is not kind, Ivar. But it is powerful. And the gods do not make mistakes. I have seen you, in every vision, as clearly as I see you now. You are everything I have ever pictured, everything I have ever longed for, even when I didn’t understand what it meant. And I believe they sent me here because we are meant to shape each other’s fates." Your words came tumbling in a chaotic manner. This is the first time that you had shown any slight inkling of being a human being.

Ivar's grip tightened on the table in front of him. Silence rang in the air, as he quite clearly fought with his thoughts. You almost turned around and walked away, however, Ivar's sudden words broke the quietness.

"Everything you have ever longed for, you say?" His words were low, and teasing. You looked up at him in disbelief; after all that time, and all that tension, that was all that that he could think of?

"You do not understand both the weight and importance of my words." You shook your head. "You must start taking life seriously now, Ivar. You need to focus, if you want to be a leader." You spoke loudly, frustration soaring through your body.

Ivar was both shocked and overwhelmed. He did not understand why he was allowing someone to speak to him in such a way, and yet he knew exactly why. You were everything that he had ever dreamed of, and more. You were telling him your exact thoughts and feelings, while also making him feel as though he were the most important person in the world, and he could not fathom why.

"Prove it to me. Prove that you are who you say." He demanded, now a sense of seriousness planted on his face. He looked at you expectantly, an arrogance in his demeanour, in an attempt to mask his vulnerability.

You stepped forward, closing the distance between you, not faltering in the face of his simmering anger. You had seen his past—his childhood, his memories. The pieces of him that no one else knew, that he himself had buried. It was now time to lay them bare. You began to tell him stories of his childhood; his mother telling him stories about the gods, waiting for his father to come home.

"Lucky guess, perhaps." He said, his eyes darting between your eyes and lips.

You took a deep breathe. "Fine." You said. "You want something more personal?" You asked, your eyes peering up at him. He nodded in response, clearly amused. "You remember the first time it happened," you whispered, watching his face closely. " She was little, and blonde, the complete opposite to me. The first time you gave yourself to someone, thinking it would make you feel more… more like a man. More powerful. But it didn’t. It didn’t feel the way you thought it would. It was messy, uncertain, and for all the bravado you showed, there was a deep, gnawing loneliness underneath. It wasn’t just about taking what you wanted. It was about seeking something more—seeking connection, seeking validation. But that connection didn’t come from anyone but yourself."

Ivar's jaw clenched, he could not believe that you knew the details of his life- personal details, personal memories. His lips parted, as though he had intended to speak. He however, did not.

"And all the women that came after that, and I believe that there were many, were not good enough. You did not enjoy them, any of them." Your voice became low, as you stepped forward, closing the gap between you.

His gaze intensified, a mixture of confusion, longing, and something else—something dangerous—flaring in his eyes.

You smiled softly, a confident smirk curling at the corners of your lips. “You’ve always been searching for me, Ivar. And now, here I am, standing before you. No other woman could ever compare to what we’re meant to have. To what we’ve always had.”

In one swift motion, he reached for your waist and pulled you towards him. He looked at you for a moment, his breath hitching and his body stiffening for a moment. And then, just like that, his lips crashed onto yours with an intensity that left no room for hesitation or doubt.

The kiss was hungry, desperate. His hands found their way to your back, pulling you into him, his touch urgent and possessive. Your knees weakened at his actions, for his touch felt right, and his possessiveness was something that you yearned for.

Your hands tangled in his hair, deepening the kiss as the heat between you both soared higher.

Ivar pulled away just enough to look at you, his lips swollen, eyes dark and searching. He stared at you, as though trying to memorise the very essence of you in that moment. “Do you know what you’ve done?” he rasped, his voice husky, thick with desire and something else—something deeper. No woman had ever made him feel this way; he had never wanted someone so much, respected someone so much.

You barely had time to respond before he kissed you again, more urgently this time, his mouth claiming yours with a raw intensity that left no room for hesitation. His hands moved to the small of your back, lifting you up against him, the need to be closer, to feel every part of you against him growing unbearable.

He pulled away suddenly, causing your eyes to flutter open as you look up at him. His eyes darkened, "You will guide me." He stated, causing you to in turn nod your head. His grip on your waist tightened. "You are mine." He stated, his words laced with emotion. His words caused your stomach to erupt with a feeling unfamiliar to you, nervousness.

“I’ll kill anyone who dares go near you,” he growled. You could feel the raw intensity in his words, the promise of violence that came with them. You had proven yourself to him and it was as though he saw you as something precious, something irreplaceable, and he would protect you with every ounce of his being.

“And if anyone dares doubt your visions,” he continued, his voice low, “if they question the gods or the fate that binds us, they’ll meet the same fate. No one will ever dare challenge you or the truth you carry. No one will harm you.”

[angelsuecult]

a lonely night | s. crosby

“it was the only time

and if i led you on then i apologize”

warnings: explicit sexual content, MDNI, 18+, nsfw, rough encounters, strong language, unprotected sex, smut

summary: what was meant to be a casual fling has sidney wanting more from a woman who has made her intentions clear.

wordcount: 4.2k

song: a lonely night - the weeknd

a/n: this is lowkey my first time ever writing something like this so it might not be the best but i like it. i hope you guys do too! also i didn’t proofread so it might be all over the place, sorry!

———

It was a crowded charity event, one of those high-profile affairs where athletes and celebrities mingle, the kind of scene Sidney usually tolerated more than enjoyed. He had just scored a hat-trick the night before, so naturally, the room was abuzz with people trying to congratulate him, trying to been seen with him. He wore that success with a bit more arrogance than usual tonight—shoulders squared, chin up, a smirk tugging at his lips as he worked the room.

You were there as well, not out of any real obligation but because your PR team insisted it would be good for your image. You moved through the crowds with an effortless grace, accepting compliments with a smile that never quite reached your eyes. You were used to this, to people fawning over you, wanting a piece of you. But you weren’t here for them.

When Sidney caught sight of you, something about your presence struck him—maybe it was the way you seemed almost indifferent to the attention you received, like you had better things to do. Or maybe it was the way your gaze, when it did meet his, was steady and unflinching, showing no sign of anything really.

He approached you with a self-assured stride, that trademark Crosby confidence, expecting you to respond like everyone else did—flattered, intrigued, maybe even a little starstruck.

“You must be Y/N,” he said, voice smooth, carrying that undercurrent of cocky charm.

“And you must be Sidney Crosby,” you replied, your tone natural, giving nothing away.

His smile widened. “I guess that makes us the center of attention, eh?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself, babe. I’m here for the free drinks.”

Sidney chuckled, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. You weren’t playing along, weren’t biting the bait he dangled so casually. “You’re not a hockey fan, I take it?”

“I’m a fan of a good game,” you replied, tilting your head slightly. “But I’m not here to feed anyone’s ego.”

Sidney’s smirk faltered for a second before he recovered. “That’s refreshing,” he said, leaning in slightly. “Most people in this room can’t get enough of it.”

You met his gaze head-on, unbothered by how close he was now. “Maybe they’re just better at pretending than I am.”

Sidney's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of irritation creeping in. “So, what are you pretending to do here then?”

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. “Charity. Same as you, I’m guessing.”

“Except people actually want to see me here,” he shot back, his voice taking on a sharper edge.

“And I’m sure that helps you sleep at night,” you replied, not missing a beat.

There was a brief silence, charged with the tension of your verbal back and forth. Sidney was used to winning, on and off the ice, but this was a different kind of game, one where his usual moves didn’t seem to land the way he expected.

Finally he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded you with a new level of interest. “I gotta say, this night just got a hell of a lot more interesting.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he said leaning in. “I don’t meet many people who aren’t impressed by me.”

“Maybe you should meet more people,” you suggested.

Sidney smirked, recognizing the game you were playing. “Maybe. But most of them aren’t as interesting as you.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said, keeping your expression unchanged.

“Who said I was trying to go anywhere?” he shot back, his smirk widening.

A beat of silence settled once more, this time it was thick with tension. Sidney was used to women being drawn to him, used to his charm working like a well-oiled machine. But you weren’t giving him anything, and that only made him more determined.

“So if you’re not a fan of hockey, what are you a fan of?” he asked, trying a different approach.

“I never said I wasn’t a fan of hockey,” you replied, your tone still calm, still controlled. “I just said I’m not a fan of yours.”

The words hung in the air between them, shark and unexpected. Sidney blinked, taken aback for a split second before he could regain his composure.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to work on changing that,” he said, his voice low, almost daring.

“Good luck,” you said, your lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “You’ll need it.”

———

Later that evening, after the event had wound down and most of the crowd had thinned out, Sidney found himself in the hotel bar. He wasn’t quite ready to call it a night, his mind still buzzing with the thrill of the evening. There was something about you—something that got under his skin in a way that he wasn’t used to.

He wasn’t surprised to see you there as well, sitting alone at the bar, a half empty glass of whiskey in front of you. He slid onto the stool beside you without an invitation.

“You don’t strike me as the type to drink alone,” he said, signaling the bartender for his own drink.

You barely glanced at him. “Maybe I’m not alone.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing around. “Doesn’t seem like anyone else is here.”

You gave a small smile. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Sidney took a sip of his drink, studying you. There was something about you, something that intrigued him beyond just surface-level attraction. Maybe it was the way you held yourself, or the way you seemed immune to the usual charm he used so effortlessly.

“So, what’s your deal?” he asked, leaning back slightly.

You sighed, swirling the liquid in your glass. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

There was a pause, the weight of your words hanging between you. Sidney didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to bridge the gap that seemed to open between you.

“Look,” he said finally, his voice quieter, less cocky than before. “I’m not here to mess with you. I just-”

You cut him off, your tone laced with sarcasm. “Wanted to see if you could score off the ice too?”

Sidney opened his mouth to respond, but then shut it again, realizing there was no easy way to explain himself. “Maybe,” he admitted after a moment. “But not like that.”

Your expression softened slightly, though you tried to keep your guard up. “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?”

He didn’t deny it, “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean it’s always easy.”

“Maybe you could try harder then,” you suggested, your voice tinged with challenge.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You smirked, finally allowing him the satisfaction of a small smile. “So I’ve heard.”

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the tensions between you shifted into something else—something warmer, Sidney found himself leaning in, drawn to you in a way he hadn’t expected. But just as he was about to close the distance, you pulled back, placing a hand on his chest to stop him.

“I’m not looking for anything more than tonight,” you said firmly, your gaze steady on his.

He nodded, slowly, understanding what you were saying, but not entirely sure he could accept it. “Neither am I,” he lied.

You saw through it, but didn’t call him out on it. Instead, you leaned in, brushing your lips slightly against his in a kiss that was more a test than a promise. You smiled, a real smile this time, and it was like a punch to his gut. “Good. Then let’s keep it simple.”

He reached out to push a strand from your face, his fingers lingering longer than they should have, “Simple’s good.

You pulled away, your gaze never leaving his as you brushed your hair over your shoulder. “Then let’s get out of here.”

———

The atmosphere in the elevator was thick with tension, the kind that had been building since the moment your eyes first mentioned. You guys had barely made it inside before the doors slid shut, and the confined space only seems to amplify the electricity between you. The second the doors closed, all acts were dropped.

His hands were on you before you could even take a breath, his strong fingers gripping your waist, pulling you against him. You responded immediately, your hand sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt, before wrapping around his neck to pull him down to your level. Your lips crashed together in a heated kiss, all teeth and tongue, like you both had been holding back for far too long.

There was no gentleness in the way you both moved, only raw, unrestrained desire. Sidney’s hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin he could reach. His hands were rough as they slid up your thighs, hiking your dress around your waist, his fingers brushing against the lacy edge of your panties. You moaned softly against his mouth as his fingers slipped beneath the lace, finding you slick and ready. Your hips jerked involuntarily as he began to stroke you, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your nails dug deep into his clothed shoulders, and you had to bite down on your lip to keep from crying out.

“Sidney,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need as he pressed his thumb against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you see stars. The sounds coming from you were obscene, a mix of moans and whimpers that echoed off the walls of the small elevator.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” Sidney groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he watched you come undone beneath his touch. His fingers quickened their pace, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

The elevator seemed to crawl up to his floor, each second stretching out in agonizing anticipation. Sid growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against you in a way that made your knees weak. Before you could fall over that edge, the elevator dinged, signaling the arrival on his floor. Sidney pulled his hand away leaving you panting and on the verge of begging. The smug grin on his face told you he knew what he was doing to you, and it only made you want him more.

As soon as the doors opened, Sidney pulled you out into the hallway, barely giving you time to adjust to the change before he was on you again. You stumbled down the hallway, hands fumbling with clothes as you went. You gasped as Sidney pushed you up against a wall, his mouth trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin in a way that made you shiver.

“Baby,” you breathed, your voice a mix of need and impatience as you tugged at the buttons of his shirt, trying to pull it off of him. He laughed, a dark, sinful sound that sent a thrill down your spine as he leaned back just enough to rip the shirt open himself.

“Impatient, are we?” he teased, his eyes dark with desire as he reached for you again, this time hooking a hand around your thigh to hook your leg up around his waist. You didn’t bother with a response, instead letting out a soft moan as you felt the hard length of him pressing against you. Your dress was riding up, barely covering anything at this point, and he took full advantage, his hands slipping under the fabric to squeeze your ass, pulling you even closer.

“Room,” you managed to gasp, your voice strained with the effort of holding yourself together. “We need to get to the room.”

Sidney grunted in agreement, but didn’t release you. Instead, he adjusted his hold on you, practically lifting you off the ground as he continued down the hallway, his lips never leaving yours. You barely made it to the door before he was pinning you against it, his fingers digging into your hips as he rubbed against you, the friction making you both groan.

It took a moment to fumble for the keycard in his pocket, and you used the opportunity to suck on his bottom lip, earning a low, guttural sound from him that made your pulse race. Finally, he managed to get the door open, practically shoving it with his shoulder as he carried you inside.

The door slammed harshly behind you, but neither of you seemed to notice. You were too busy tearing at each other’s clothes, a frantic urgency consuming you as you both stumbled further into the room. Sid’s jacket hit the floor, followed by your dress, which he practically ripped off of you in his haste to get you naked. You weren’t far behind, your hands working feverishly to unbuckle his belt, pushing his pants down until they pooled at his feet.

You barely made it to the bed. Sidney’s hands were everywhere, exploring, gripping, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. Your breath caught as he lowered you onto the mattress, his body covering yours in an instant. The kisses between you were hungry, desperate, filled with a need that neither of you could contain.

“Jesus,” Sid growled, his voice thick with desire as he kissed a trail down your neck, his mouth hot against your skin. You arched into him, your nails raking down his back as you urged him on, needing more, needing him.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs wider as he settled between them, the hard length of him pressing against your core. “Now,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of urgency and need. “I need you now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed the base of his cock, guiding himself to your opening. The first push was slow, deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him as he filled you. Your breath caught in your throat, nails digging into his back as you arched beneath him, the sensation overwhelming in the best way possible.

“Fuck, Y/N” he groaned, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control. He began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful, each one hitting that perfect spot inside that made you cry out.

Your hands clutched at the sheets, your body rocking with each of his thrusts. The intensity of it, the way he moved inside of you, almost too much to bear, Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your moans echoing in the room as he drove into you, his pace relentless.

It didn’t take long before he flipped you over, your stomach pressed against the mattress as he positioned himself behind you. He gripped your hips, pulling you back onto him as he thrust forward, the new angle sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Your hands flew to the headboard, gripping it tightly for support as he fucked you from behind, his movements rough and demanding.

You could feel every inch of him, the way he filled you so completely, the way his hands dug into your hips, anchoring you to him, The sound of your bodies colliding, the wet slap of skin against skin, filled the room, mingling with both of your moans and gasps. It was messy, it was intense, it was exactly what you both needed.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Sidney groaned his voice deep and raspy, as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his release, driving you both to the brink

“Oh my god I’m close,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper as you felt the coil in your abdomen tighten, ready to snap. “Fuck.”

With a low growl, Sid pulled you up so that your back was flush against his chest, one his arms wrapped around you, with the other wrapped around your throat, as he continued to thrust from behind. “You take it so well,” he whispered in your ear. The new position sent you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you trembling. You cried out his name, your release coating his cock creating wet sounds as he continued to move inside of you drawing out your release. “That’s right baby,” he coaxed as your head rolled back onto his shoulder.

But he wasn’t done yet. He turned you around again, pulling you on top of him as he lay back on the bed. You straddled his hips, your hands resting on his chest as you sank down onto him, taking him in fully. The position gave you full control, and you didn’t waste it. You began to ride him, your movements slow at first, savoring the way he felt inside of you, before picking up the pace. “Good girl, holy fuck,” he breathed out.”

Sidney’s hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you rode him, his eyes locked on yours. The sight of you above him, head thrown back in pleasure, breasts bouncing about was almost enough to send him over the edge. He thrust up to meet you, matching your pace, the tension in his body building to an almost unbearable level.

“Y/n,” he gasped, his voice strained as he felt himself getting closer. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna—“

“Do it,” you urged, your own voice breathless as you rode him harder, pushing you both to the edge. The sound of your bodies moving together, the feel of him inside of you, was enough to tip you over again, your second orgasm hitting you with just as much force as the first. Your body clenched around him, and that was all Sidney needed.

With a low, guttural groan, Sidney came, his release hitting him like a tidal wave. He spilled into you, his hips jerking with intensity as he rode out the waves of pleasure. You continued to move above him, milking every last drop until you were both spent. bodies trembling with exhaustion.

You pulled yourself off of him, a mix of both of your juices dripped from out of you and onto his dick, causing him to throw his head back against the pillows. You collapsed together, a tangled mess of limbs and sweat, both of your breath heavy as you tried to catch your breath. The room was filled with the sounds of labored breathing, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as you lay there together, spent and satisfied. Your head rested against his chest, the rapid beating of his heart a steady rhythm beneath your ear. For a moment, you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your intense night together.

Finally, he turned his head in your direction, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light of the room. There was as softness in your gaze now, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before, and it tugged at something deep inside him. He leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss against your lips, his earlier roughness replaced with something almost tender.

“Stay,” he murmured, the word slipping out before he could stop it. He wasn’t sure why he said it—he’d never been the type to ask someone to stay the night—but with you, it felt different. Like maybe this could be more than just a one-night thing.

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes searching his as if you were trying to figure out what he really meant. But then you smiled, a small, almost sad smile, and shook your head no. Sidney felt a pang of disappointment, but he didn’t push. He knew better than to ask for more than what was being offered, especially when it was clear you had your reasons. So he just nodded, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before pulling you fully into his arms.

“This was supposed to be simple,” you whispered, your voice still tinged with the remnants of shared passion.

Sid chuckled softly, his hands brushing through your hair. “Simple doesn’t seem to be our style, eh?”

You tilted your head up to look at him, your gaze searching his. ”We both know this doesn’t change anything, right?”

He nodded, though there was a part of him that wasn’t entirely convinced. “Right.”

You fell asleep like that, tangled together in the sheets, your bodies warm and tired.

———

Sidney woke up to the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the curtains. He stretched, reaching out to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. His hand brushed over the cool cheeks, a strange feeling settled in his chest—a mix of confusion and something else, something he wasn’t ready to name. He could almost feel you there, the ghost of your touch lingering on his skin.

Blinking against the light, he pushed himself up on one elbow and looked around the room. It was quiet, and the space beside him was untouched, as if no one had ever been there.

For a moment, he thought maybe he’d imagined it, that night you shared was just a vivid dream. But the faint scent of your perfume still lingered in the air, and the tousled sheets were evidence enough that you had been there, at least for a while.

He sat up fully, running a hand through his hair as he tried to piece together what had happened. Everything from the night before came rushing back—the charged banter, the undeniable chemistry, the way you’d felt around him, responding to his every touch. It had been intense, passionate, and for a brief moment, it had felt like more than just a short connection. He stared mindlessly at the floor, his mind replaying every moment, every touch, every moan. The sheets still smelled like you, and the memory of your body pressed against his was still fresh in his mind.

But now you were gone, and with you, the warmth and closeness that had enveloped him during those hours together. Sidney frowned, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. You must have left early, slipping out before he’d even had a chance to wake up.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, he’d never been one for long goodbyes, especially when it came to flings. It was easier to keep things casual, to let it be what it was without any lingering complications.

But this felt different. The empty space beside him was a harsh reminder that you had made the decision to leave before he even had a chance to say anything. And that stung, more than he wanted to admit. As the silence settled around him, he realized that something had shifted inside him.

For the first time in a long while, Sidney felt something beyond just the physical satisfaction that usually followed a night like this. The sex had been incredible, that much was clear. But there was a nagging emptiness, a gnawing sense that what you shared wasn’t as casual as you both wanted to believe.

Sidney swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up as he tried to shake off the strange sense of loss. He told himself it was better this way—clean, simple, no strings attached. That’s what you agreed on, after all. You were gone, and he was alone. He closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath as he tried to center himself. He had to get a grip—this was just another night, another woman, and life would go on as it always did.

But as he moved around the room, gathering his clothes and getting dressed, he couldn’t shake the nagging thought that he wasn’t ready for it to be over. Not yet. He noticed a small piece of paper on the nightstand, folded neatly. Sid’s heart skipped a beat as he reached for it, unfolding it to reveal a short, handwritten note.

“Thanks for the night. Let’s keep it uncomplicated :) -Y/N”

Sidney stared at the note for a long moment,the words echoing in his mind. “Uncomplicated.” That’s what you wanted, what you had both agreed to. But now as he read your words, he couldn’t help but feel that things were far more complicated than either of you had anticipated. As he stood there, staring at the note, he knew you had left a mark on him, one that he couldn’t easily erase. The memory of you, of the way you had looked at him with those challenging eyes, would stay with him. Whether he liked it or not, you had gotten under his skin.

With a sigh, he tucked the note into his pocket, trying to push the thought from his mind. You were gone, and that was supposed to be the end of it. But deep down, Sidney hoped this wasn’t over. There was something between you, something that couldn’t be so easily dismissed. But he had a life to get back to, a routine that didn’t include him moping over women who left before dawn.

And as he left the room, closing the door behind him, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever see you again. And if he did, what the hell he would do about it.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

The Beast and The Sweetest Cherry

Part One

Warnings: SMUT, Virgin!OC, Period Drama, Angst, Dark, Beauty and The Beast, Arranged Marriage.

Summary: Just outside a small town up near a chilly mountain range, lies a large black manor, home to a cruel Lord with a dark secret. The town lives with a strict set of rules that keeps them safe, and avoid the bad tempered Lord's wrath as much as they can. One day, a young girl offers herself up to the cruel Lord leading to passionate disarray when the virgin meets the Beast.

The Beast had promised wealth to restore her father’s fortunes and more. They assured her that the Beast wouldn’t kill her.

“No,” a deep voice rumbled behind her. She hadn’t heard the Beast arrive.

He stood back, tall and broad shouldered as her father had said, watching from the depths of his cloak. The winter wind caught the black folds, whipping them tight against his massive body, but never stirred around his face. Venus couldn’t make out his features, though she thought perhaps she caught the gleam of a white tooth. And was that the shadow of a muzzle?

She shuddered, looking away quickly.

“No, Venus,” the Beast said, “I will never take you by force. I will only take you when you ask me to. That one choice, at least, will always be yours.”

Venus stirred uneasily inside the confines of her gown. Something about his words seemed…unwholesome somehow. She could not see him clearly, and she was under the impression that he was hideous. Too hideous to reveal himself. Venus rubbed her arm nervously beneath her sheer and very revealing white night gown. Her chocolate ringlets cascaded over her shoulders and down her back like a wild flower. It had been a full day since they exchanged vows. Venus refused to leave the room. It wasn’t her official room, The Beast was still preparing that one.

She’d been nervous indeed. This would be their first night together. Venus was too afraid to face him days prior after their marriage.

“Am I ever to see you?” Venus asked with a timid voice.

The sound of his deep breath made the hairs on her arms stand up.

“Do you wish to?”

Venus glanced back at his black silhouette with fearful eyes before quickly looking away again.

“It might be easier for me…to get accustomed to you, Sir.”

“You see, Venus, that’s one thing I’ll have to control. These things are best done in stages. I intend to win you over, my Venus, but we’ll take it slow…”

Venus tried to calm the tremble of her body.

“I–I don’t see how that’s possible, Sir.”

A dark, menacing chuckle filled the room. Venous shut her eyes, the sound of her breathing rising.

“You’re innocent, Venus,” The Beast said, his voice nearly a growl, “And you have not discovered how I can make you feel.”

“I have. You make me feel fear. And revulsion.” Venus trekked over to the grand window, her doe eyes watching the raging snow storm outside, “Despair, perhaps.”

“None of those are real, Venus”

She forced herself to look at him. “I must tell you, I don’t see how I can ever be your wife in truth. I cannot imagine asking you to—”

“To what? take your maidenhead? To rend you with my dick so that you scream in agonized pleasure?”

The shock drained Venus’ body of the ability to move. Even as the image somehow stirred her.

“Sir—Beast, you cannot say such things to me.” Venus retorted with a shaky voice.

The bite of his words and that monstrous voice had her shivering as if she were standing in the snow nearing frostbite.

“It seems, my bride, that we must stretch your imagination as well. The only thing I may not do is take you by force. Everything else is open to me.” He settled back in a very masculine satisfaction. “If you intend to keep the bargain that saved your father’s life, that is.”

Venus bit her lip. Her father had wept even as he handed her into the Beast’s carriage. Had he realized? Her virginity wouldn’t matter at the end of the week if she was dead. She slowly walked back to the bed and turned her back to him. Her eyes fell solemnly to her lap, and as he drew closer, she couldn’t control her body from shaking with terror.

“Venus.” The Beast leaned forward. She shrank back, but he only laid a gloved hand over hers, “I swear I will not injure you. Your beauty is precious to me. I would not see it marred in any way. I want you to feel safe with me, despite what they speak of me beyond these walls. I will not hurt you. I would never…”

She restlessly moved her hands out from under the black leather of his glove. A mistake, since his hand fell to her knee instead, a heavy weight through the thin cloth. The weight on her small limb awakened something she’d never felt.

“I will wish to see it, however,” the Beast said, gravel in his voice.

Venus’ heart stuttered. “See it?”

“You, in your naked glory. In exchange, I will not touch you just yet.” He leaned back again. “I mention it now so that you might mull the idea over.”

Venus drew in a breath, “I do not think I shall become peaceful with the idea in that space of time.”

“You mistake me, my bride. Peaceful is not how I want you.”

If he’d intended her to think about it, to imagine herself naked and vulnerable in front of his black-cloaked figure, then he succeeded.

“I want you to learn your body…and I intend on guiding you through it…I want you ruined. I want you overcome with desire so intense you can’t form proper sentences…”

The Beast held out his hand towards her and Venus placed her dainty hand in the middle of his massive palm. His thick, dangerous fingers curled around her hand and with the slightest tug, Venus was on her feet and staring up at The Creature that stood at 6’7 with a massive built.

He didn’t drag her along, but neither did the Beast release her hand. The grand house blurred around her as she frantically tried to think of a way out.

“I’m dizzy, Sir…”

“Excellent,” he purred.

“Truly, Husband.” Venus stopped, placed a trembling finger to her temple, and stared steadfastly at the black cloaked chest before her. “I have a pain in my head and—”

“VENUS.”

His tone slammed through her. All stern disapproval and warning.

“Yes?” She barely got the word out.

“You may address me as ‘my lord’, ‘Sir’, or ‘Beast.’ If you call me ‘Husband’ again, I will assume you are ready for me to assume my full husbandly rights. Understood?”

“Yes. My lord.”

“Then let us proceed.”

Venus once again struggled to keep pace with his long strides, until the dark hallway opened into the most glorious atrium.

Woes temporarily forgotten, Venus gazed in wonder at the glass walls and ceiling sparkling in the evening. Moonlight flooded the room from three sides and roses, blood-red roses, filled every corner. Here and there, graceful sculptures peeked between the blooms.

Velvet crimson spills, mounds and waterfalls, the roses tumbled out of urns and thrust up from beds built into the floor. The roses Father had brought surely came from these.

Venus realized she stood alone in the middle of the floor. The Beast had settled into a grand chair, massive as a throne, studded with iron rings in various places. It was perfectly situated so that he might survey the room. And everything in it.

“As you can see, I enjoy beauty. Now, it’s time to enjoy yours,” The Beast relaxed into the chair and his enormous and powerful thighs spread wide, “Venus, I want you to remove that thin gown and place it on that table, right there, “He waved a languid hand towards a table situated against the wall, “You will find a pair of heels there…slip them on.”

Venus eased herself towards the table with timid movement. She stopped before the table and willed herself to calm down. The voice in her head told her to calm down and do as he commanded.

“Venus, the longer you take, the greater the punishment.”

“P–punishment? I thought you said you wouldn’t hurt me—”

“And I won’t. Not all punishment warrants violence, Venus,” The Beast leaned forward in the chair, “Have you ever heard of inflicting pain for pleasure? A spanking for instance?”

Venus shuddered.

“Were I you”—he settled back in the chair—“I wouldn’t give away opportunities for punishment. But that’s entirely your choice. You’ve earned one punishment for your hesitation. Proceed with my instructions.”

With trembling fingers, Venus reached up to pull the straps of her thin gown past her shoulders, her back facing him. The Beast, however, did not seem inclined to urge her to move more quickly. His head once again propped on his fist, he watched her from the shadows of his hood.

Venus felt the fabric pool around her feet. She stroked her arm nervously, too afraid to turn around. The Beast, however, made a sound deep within his chest that made her whimper. She startled herself. Venus ran her fingers through her hair, shaking out the formal coils her sisters had twisted in.

“Turn.”

Turn? Venus’ heart skipped a beat.

“Are you hesitating, Venus?”

“I’m…nervous…”

“You need not be…it’s just you and I…now turn.”

His rasp spurred her.

The Beast heaved himself out of the throne and moved toward her. Venus closed her eyes, unable to bear it. He stopped behind her, his presence radiating a heat so intense. She could hear rustling, and then the sound of his gloves hitting the table. Venus’ eyes flicked to the large gloves and then down at her bare feet. The sound of fabric moving gained her attention. She caught a glimpse of his yellow eyes and it rendered her speechless. He picked up the heels and handed them to her from behind.

“Take them. Slip them on. And turn.”

From his tone, she sensed his frustration at her disobedience. Venus accepted the heels; black patent leather pumps, and went to work slipping them on. She stood a few inches taller, but still nothing compared to how tall The Beast is. He returned to his seat and the distance between them gave Venus enough courage to continue. Venus began to turn, her finger twiddling bashfully, when she fully faced him. Her doe eyes sought him out before glancing down at her heeled feet.

She stood there forever it seemed. Frozen while he just stared at her. When he finally spoke, she thought she might whither away.

“Lift your head. You look at me, Venus.”

She stared at him with a flutter of her lashes. Her breath shuttered through her and her heart beat so fast against her chest cavity.

“Come to me…”

Her heels against the floor was so loud it almost drowned out her breathing. To stand before him was a battle. She fought hard to look at him and when his clawed finger ghosted over her exposed skin on her hip she couldn’t contain herself. She moaned. She was exposed and vulnerable to this Beast and his touch made her moan. Was her body betraying her. Blood pulsed through her, pounding in her breasts and pooling down to her groin.

“Mmm…”

He could sense her arousal.

Shoulders back. Your breasts are gorgeous, Venus—so full and round. Thrust them forward. Place your hands behind your back…just like that…”

Venus was aware of her thick nipples hardening beneath his gaze. A tingle crept over her skin and her thighs clenched.

“…I love your nipples. Nice and big. I’m impatient to try some tricks to keep them stiff. By the time I’m done, you’ll be able to do nothing but think of how your nipples feel.”

Venus trembled violently, hot tears suddenly spilling down her cheeks.

“Why do you weep? Turn in a slow circle.”

She complied but didn’t answer the question.

“Venus, I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”

“You’re so cruel,” she cried, “treating me like this.”

“All beasts are cruel. It is my nature. And for now I merely admire. Wouldn’t any bridegroom expect to see you so?”

His haunting eyes glided over her body and when it reached her bushy lower lips, a tongue so long slithered out of his mouth and sharp teeth gleamed like a predator to its prey.

“Fuck…you are tempting me, Venus…that body on you…mmm…fucking beautiful…”

She felt a flutter in her belly from his words.

“Turn…bend…”

Venus looked back at him over her shoulder as her back arched forward, bringing her ass within his line of vision. The deep groan of satisfaction that spilled from his lips made her contain herself own sounds of desire. How quickly this Beast could make her feel such dirty thoughts…

“I can’t wait to have you. And I know you feel the same. No matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise…”

Venus remained silent.

“As for your punishment, I hadn’t anticipated that you would need correction so soon. But I think it’s best for you to learn quickly, don’t you?”

“I…I don’t want to be punished.”

“You don’t have a say in the matter…I’m your Lord…you do as I say…hear me?”

Venus’ lower lip trembled.

“Sir, please…I don’t want it.” Venus pleaded.

“Ah, but I wish it. And I think you’ll find it’s good for you. You’ve been petted and spoiled. While I intend to pet you, my sweet, you’ll find that I’m most interested in your character. You don’t wish to deny me my few pleasures?”

“No, my lord.”

“I shall decide for you, then. It shall be tonight. You may lower your hands and find your chambers. Return down the hallway and follow the light that guides you.”

Venus didn’t waste time scurrying off and out of sight.

——

Her chambers were beyond grand. Enormous faceted windows looked out over the gardens. Though ringed round by the dense and grasping forest, the grounds looked meticulously manicured, gracefully proportioned. Beautiful. No wonder Father had thought it a sanctuary.

Venus had found the rooms by following a light, indeed. A little will-o’-the-wisp had popped out of the woodwork in the hallway. She followed its pink bobbing path, soothing herself by pulling her hair over her breasts to shield them and holding her hands over the place between her legs. She didn’t dare remove the shoes, however, until she reached her room.

There was no promised gown.

Instead Venus found a short, silk robe lying across the foot of the immense four-poster bed. The fine white silk was so translucent that it hid nothing. After putting it on anyway, since it was meagerly better than being completely nude, she glimpsed herself in the full-length mirror. Her black hair tumbled in coils. Her eyes looked huge in her face, the dark centers edging out the pure hazel. Venus could see her nipples pressing taut against the silk and the deep V at the juncture of her thighs. This is what the Beast had seen.

He’d seen her this way. Venus stroked her hips as she turned every which way, admiring her hourglass shape. The time alone in that room until The Beast called for her gave her a moment to accept that she’d had some attraction towards him. Although marrying a monster hiding deep within enchanted woods wasn’t on her agenda, she wasn’t completely put–off by it. He hadn’t killed her. He actually wanted her. Truly wanted her. And she’d never experienced that.

The innocent girl who’d dressed for her wedding on that haunting morning had disappeared. This girl looked ravished already. In a way, she supposed she had been.

And this was just the beginning.

Venus explored her new room and marveled at the extraordinary detail and how extravagant it was. The wardrobe was filled with all sorts of clothes and shoes and there was a vanity covered with perfumes, oils, jewelry, and makeup. Everything she ever needed. A soft patter at her door made her jump back.

“Miss? Your Lord would like for you to freshen before returning to him.”

It was one of the servants.

“Thank you. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

Venus hurried towards her own bathroom, finding the tub already filled. She knew that castle held a magical force. Venus pinned her curls above her head and used a lavender scented soap. She washed away whatever she could, telling herself to relax and embrace her new life as a wife. Her thoughts drifted to sex with him. The sponge against her brown skin paused, the soap suds gliding.

She knew he had to be big down there. How would he feel inside of her. Spreading her. Bottoming out in her…

“Oh, goodness,” Venus placed a hand to her chest.

So much for being brave.

She was scared out of her mind. She wasted time staring at the tap dripping, the water beneath her growing cold. Venus lifted from the bath and grabbed a towel, securing it around her before entering her room. She went to work slathering fragrant lotion on her smooth skin and after letting her hair down, she fluffed it out and turned her gaze onto the silk robe he’d left for her.

No delaying, then, unless she wanted to sit in the dark. And Venus felt sure she didn’t want the Beast to come looking for her.

Suddenly, an invisible force began moving about the room, like a ghost. Venus gasped, eyes wide with fear, the doors to her wardrobe opening and after a moment, fresh stockings and a pair of ribbon garters. Not the ones she’d worn that morning before her wedding—these were sheer red and softer than rain. The crimson ribbons matched the boned scarlet satin corset. Venus could don the stockings herself, but she was dubious about the corset. When she slipped it on, though, invisible fingers tugged the laces into place.

Tightly.

Venus ended up grasping the edge of the tall table with her room to brace herself. When they released her, she saw herself in the full-length mirror, the thatch of glossy dark hair where her thighs met framed by the red stockings. The scarlet corset that fitted down over her hips, cinched her waist tightly and rising to a shelf under her breasts, cupping them as if they were some sort of pastry, her nipples nearly as hard as marble

She looked away. Looked for the gown. Only the red heels awaited, mysteriously transported from the other room.

“He promised me a gown,” Venus muttered to herself. “Perhaps it’s in the other room.”

But when she started toward the bedchamber, the dressing-room door flew closed, even as a chair in front of a vanity mirror slid out invitingly. The shoes slid in front of her. She had to get her nerves in check. She allowed the invisible maids to doll her up further and when they stopped, Venus admired the work they’d done and she gawked at her appearance. She looked like a vixen waiting to get fucked.

Oh goodness.

The pink light from before appeared before her eyes, Venus realizing that the light is what helped her get prepared. She tilted her head at it. How interesting.

He was waiting. She needed to hurry. Before she could leave, a long, flowing red gown with tight gloves attached levitated towards her. Venus gave the pink glow one final look before placing the red gown around her body and leaving the room.

——

Two timid knocks and his booming voice commanded her to enter. Venus crossed the threshold into what looked like a den. The Beast awaited her in his parlor. He stood before a roaring fire, wearing a black satin cloak, the folds of the hood, as always, deeply shadowing his face.

“Venus, you look lovely tonight. How fare you? Are your chambers suitable?”

A bit taken aback by his solicitous tone, Venus paused. “My chambers are more than suitable. I… Thank you for thinking of my wishes.”

The Beast inclined his head. “Anything you wish for, just ask.”

Venus held up her brocade-confined hands. “I’d like a proper gown.”

He chuckled. “In this, you will indulge me. That gown suits my purposes.”

“It will make it most difficult for me to comply, my lord.”

“I shall be delighted to assist you. Shall we? Unless you’d prefer a glass of wine before we go to bed?”

She shook her head and slipped her muffled hand through his arm.

“The gown suits you.”

Venus felt sure he studied her breasts. She glanced down and saw what she had thought a modest drape of satin now rode low over her pushed-up breasts. The cloth barely clung to her nipples, which stood out, turgid and sensitive.

“Come, don’t be afraid. We will only do as you wish tonight. But know this…” The Beast tilted her chin up at him, “You will be begging for more of me.”

Venus swallowed spit. The Beast guided her past the parlor and into a magnificent room. The room she would be sharing with him. The room she would be curled up in his arms. Having sex with him…kissing him…

The Beast picked Venus up bridal–style, and sat her on the bed. She looked up at him, watching with unwavering eyes as he removed his cloak. Her eyes fell upon a rather handsome face. Although he was a Beast, it was undeniable how attractive he is. She had never seen paintings of him in his human form, but she knew in her mind that he was a sight to behold.

“I want you to turn onto your stomach…”

Venus’ gaze dropped down to the beast removing a belt from his waist. He still had the body of a man covered in fur. His large hands moved fluently and Venus was stuck in a trance.

“Venus…what did I just say?”

She turned, the image of his features etched into her brain.

The bed dipped and his imposing frame settled behind her on his knees. He lifted her into an arched position, Venus gasping. His fingers raised the fabric of the gown over her waist, exposing her naked ass and pussy from behind. Venus felt heat creeping over her skin. He growled like the wild beast he is with curved horns, sharp teeth, and vicious eyes. But his lips…so plump…and his tongue so long…

Whack!

“My Lord!”

Whack! Whack! Whack!

Venus tried to stop him from spanking her but he pinned her wrists behind her back tightly with his free hand.

“Keep still and take this punishment, Venus. I have to teach you now…before I give you pleasure,” he popped her on the ass again, “Don’t anger me, baby…”

Venus’ eyes brimmed with tears. She begged and pleaded for him to stop.

“Please, please, Sir, I won’t ever disobey you again! I promise! I’ll be a good wife! I’ll listen!”

The Beast stopped. The sting of his strong hand remained and it burned so good that her clit pulsated. She was turned on and so deeply aroused. Who knew that spanking would make her feel this way? But she wasn’t prepared for the pain of it. It stung tremendously.

“I am happy that you see reason, Venus. Although I enjoyed the feel of this hefty ass against my palm…you’ve learned your lesson…for now…”

He rubbed her skin with tentative strokes. Venus’ eyes rolled shut from the soft grazing. The Beast chuckled at the dazed look on her beautiful face.

“You look so gorgeous like this, Venus…uninhibited…aroused…I’m happy to see you enjoying yourself. Tell me how you’re feeling…be honest with me…I won’t bite…”

Venus locked her glossy lips.

“I…I like it.” She admitted.

“Mmm…I’m very glad to hear that…”

His lips peppered kisses to her ass and Venous let out an angelic moan.

“My Venus…I crave you badly…so fucking much…”

The Beast breathed in her scent from behind. Venus shut her eyes and nibbled on her bottom lip.

“Talk to me, love…tell me what you would like from me tonight…”

Venus knew that it would take time to warm her up. She was too afraid to go all the way tonight, but she did want to experience pleasure. She want The Beast to give her a taste of what it’s like to cum on his tongue. The images replaying in her mind of his long tongue made her wonder what it would be like to feel it between her thighs.

“Venus?”

“I’m sorry, Sir…I…I want you to make me cum…with your tongue….”

She spoke those words so softly, but The Beast caught on to every word. The girth of his enormous dick weakened the seam of his pants. He could faintly hear it rip. She was smart to request cunnilingus. The Beast would need a full day to break her in and Venus would need a full day to recover. They had time. And he would try to be patient, even though the monster within him wanted to break free.

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄 . ( a collection of lyric prompts based on various works by ashnikko . adjust phrasing as necessary , mature themes and language are present . )

attitude and the booze won't save you .

you fuck my life up then you say "my bad" .

you don't seem to see what a cliche you are .

repeat after me , "i'm over it" .

you don't ever cross my mind , what's a sheep to a tiger ?

i'm no prey , but i am pursued .

my best friend thinks that i'm a dumbass .

the world is burning and i laugh at the blaze .

on your horse so high , i swear to god i'm higher .

heard a rumor that you said you made me who i am .

i'm too healthy , wealthy , well fed .

i don't have the time to pretend you're funny .

self - made , self - paid , how dare you speak my name ?

i hate you so much right now .

you're not special , it's not cute .

hi , it's me , back again . here to remind you he's not worth it .

i slip up , i text you , i forget that you were so disrespectful .

they told me to be nice and i told them to bite me .

you don't want to see me bratty .

i put that teddy bear you gave me in a blender .

whiskey in my hip flask , nothing fruity .

i can see the desperation , i've got you right where i want you .

you can't stand to see me shine .

so lame that i'm your only claim to fame .

i like how you look when you really beg .

i need a new toy just to cleanse my palate .

it's gonna hurt , it'll sting .

only one strike , then you get the boot .

the only thing you seem to give me is sex .

you think you're the man , bitch please .

we both know it wasn't love , it was a big bad habit .

i only trust a fella for some light amusement .

unfortunately , you made the mistake of underestimating me .

you wish you could sway my attention .

tell me what you need .

there was potential in you .

i wanna make a couple bad decisions .

i'm no cinderella , but i like the shoes .

i do well for myself , nothing you do is extraordinary .

my dumb ass should be a little more cautious .

fuck a princess , i'm a king .

i say i won't do it , then i do it and i make myself sick .

you think you're worth all the fuss ?

to tell the truth , role models weren't around me much .

why am i such a sucker for a fuckboy's freckles ?

i say it's a no - brainer , now .

i'm crazy , but you like that . i bite back .

you already know i'm not shy .

what we did was childish , can we put this behind us ?

nothing was nice , but i loved every minute .

i don't give a fuck , i have more fun on my ones .

i've been predisposed to trauma since i was eleven .

you can keep the image of my butt as a souvenir .

being a bitch is my kink .

you're still taught the same shit .

i think she really likes me .

hide your back , she likes to stab them .

i hate that i'm so self depricating , more comfortable in bad situations .

i'm a little faded , you look like a fuckin' painting .

when i'm with you i have amnesia , got me without a mind .

i don't let a fucker on the internet tell me nothing .

this is all because you want to say you've done it .

i'm fresh out of patience .

you wish i missed you . back the fuck up .

i'm a sucker for a little devastation .

coulda , shoulda , woulda , but you did it .

i swear i'm not crying , the sun's just bright .

tell me why i need you over the next .

i'm eager to hurt more .

i swear my blue vibrator brings me more joy .

i gave your girlfriend cunnilingus on my couch .

you better stock up on tissues , jacking off to all my pictures .

fake it to the top .

typical of me to go and ruin the party .

i'm having the best time of my life .

i'm having the worst time of my life .

you look dumb now that i've come to my senses .

what do you really mean when you're calling me nice ?

you wanna hold a gun but they made you a pinup .

i forget that you're still so disrespectful .

your love is not impressive .

tell it to my manager , he'll tell you "pay a fee" .

now that i can think rationally , i feel so stupid .

everybody says they love me but i'm still brokenhearted .

it's like i need a babysitter , someone to come get me .

god made me pretty , you made me mean .

say you want my body , let me give it to you .

i'm not in your circle , baby .

i just wanna push you to the edge now .

your sad life is never getting better .

what are you mad at me for , huh ?

i was living good until your locusts and your plague hit .

forgive me for the nasty things i say when i'm wounded .

so you're scared of me now , huh ?

women hold the weight of the world .

there's something to be said for a bitch who can top me .

if nothing matters , then i'll be fine .

you hate me cause you hate yourself .

dust yourself off , girl , keep your chin up .

he says i'm a lost cause and he might be right .

i'm that "fuck up your life" girl .

i would crawl through broken glass to get home .

i play my life like a video game .

i think you've gotta do way more if you wanna please me .

what's he doing ? i don't need a brave knight .

i deleted your number .

i'm not shy , i'll say it . i've been picturing you naked .

legs getting tired , can we switch positions ?

you put a knife in my back but you'll never be the death of me .

i could squash you like a little rotten fruit .

you could never , 'cause you're not clever enough .

we were good while it lasted .

my baby calls me bossy .

i don't really need a man , but sometimes i want one though .

i can't even wear my skin without them asking where i've been .

i can make you call remember me .

stupid boy thinks that i need him .

hate me 'cause i'm beautiful , bitch i don't like you either .

i think you know you can't replace me .

who do i have to kill to make everybody love me ?

i try to think , but it's no use .

maybe we can love until we're dead .

this is not an invitation .

how dare i have private desires ?

now you're crying and you're shaking ?

nothing about you is attractive to me , now .

am i fuckable enough for you ?

i don't want you and i don't want your homie .

please don't think that the sex is gonna cloud my view .

can't believe i let your hand inside my bloomers .

tell me how my ass tastes , little bottom feeder .

you don't know your way around a pussy .

i want it , i win it . call it ambition .

i don't need the dick - i need magic , i need money .

i know you think about me in the shower .

i've got several dummies that wanna get on me .

this is so small in the big simulation .

go find another bitch to hoover , count the days until you lose her .

i know you think about me with your hand down your trousers .

you don't know anyone else like me .

it's a therapist you need .

[megalony]

My Squad

This is a dad! Evan Buckley imagine I am thinking of turning into a series if anyone would be interested in reading it. Any feedback or ideas are always lovely.

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911 Masterlist

Summary: Evan hasn't been with the team long and has kept his family a secret, but now he is ready for the team to meet his daughters. All of them.

Enjoy.

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Evan loved his job.

Out of all the other odd jobs, random placements and painful experiences he had worked at throughout the years, being a fireman was his calling. It was the one job he felt so at home and eager to do and proud of. And it was the first time he had felt like his colleagues were his family.

But despite feeling like the team were his family, Evan made a quick decision not to tell them about the family he had waiting for him at home when he clocked out each shift.

There were different reasons he didn't tell the team. They all knew he was married, that was something Evan had to disclose in his interview since (Y/n) was his emergency contact so if something happened, she would be able to find him at the hospital if a situation ever arose. But he didn't tell them the rest.

Hen thought of him as a playboy, she'd made that clear from the start and maybe that was just due to the impression Evan gave off. He looked carefree and he was daring and hot headed and passionate when he did his job, his attitude was loving but not exactly the image of a family man. So Hen didn't think Evan was 'dad material' and he didn't take it to heart, he knew looks could be deceiving.

Chimney seemed to think Evan was putting up a front, he was always commenting on how if Evan had a wife waiting at home- he had never met (Y/n) so was slightly sceptical if Evan actually was married or not- he could be so daring in the job. He was first to climb the ladder or run into a burning building.

He didn't understand that it was in Evan's nature to be quick thinking and push forward and do whatever he could to help and think of the consequences afterwards. And at the front of Evan's mind was always his family, he didn't rush into things without considering them. Chimney didn't know this, he didn't see it.

For Bobby, Evan got the impression his captain thought he was young and quite like a puppy, still finding his way in life and working out what he was doing. Bobby thought of Evan as his kid, he thought of him as younger than he really was.

And Eddie, he was still the newbie to the team. He was working them all out and getting into their way of things and getting to know them. Evan didn't give the same 'dad vibes' as Eddie.

No one knew about his children.

He did hint, once or twice, about who he was going home to and what he had hidden behind closed doors. But Evan didn't want to rush into things when this was the best job he'd had and the best people to work with. Evan wasn't good with change and if they knew about his family, dynamics would change. He hadn't brought his family or even (Y/n) to the Christmas party last year.

It had been the first event Evan had been to since he joined the team and he was too anxious about telling them he had a family to actually break the news and bring them along. His family was his everything and he liked having a little secret at home to come back to.

He was ready now.

He was ready for the team to meet his family because he was tired of being questioned if his wife was real or just imaginary. He was tired or the team calling him a daredevil with no conscience and no rationality or consequences. If this was going to be his team and his family for the foreseeable future, he could let them into his world and let them see what he was always fighting for.

"Why aren't you asleep?"

Evan tilted his head down to the right when (Y/n)'s voice, laced with sleep, broke him out of his thoughts and changed the quiet atmosphere surrounding them. It dawned on him then that while he'd been laid on his back with his left arm behind his head, his fingers had been tapping on the headboard.

It was an old habit he couldn't break when he was deep in thought or anxious about something. It had been so automatic that he didn't even hear or feel his knuckles rapping on the wood until now.

"Sorry, just thinking," He tightened his right arm around (Y/n)'s waist, smiling to himself when he felt her move against him. Her arm crept higher over his chest until her hand was curled around his tense shoulder and her upper chest was laid over his. She nuzzled her face against his other shoulder she was laid on and pressed a butterfly kiss against his collar bone that made him shiver.

"About what?" (Y/n) feathered her fingers over his shoulder as she breathed in his scent.

She could feel his heartbeat beneath her ear and the way it pulsed through her skin like a steady drum, trying to coax her back into slumber again. Whenever Evan did a night shift, (Y/n) couldn't sleep. She was too used to laying on top of him and hearing his heartbeat lull her to sleep.

"Introducing you and the girls to the team."

"Is that what you want?" (Y/n) could feel herself waking up a little when it registered what he had said. She knew how important his family and his work family were to Evan and how he wanted them separate for the time being. But if he was ready to introduce them all, (Y/n) wasn't going to say no.

It would be lovely to put faces to the names of the people he had been telling her about. The people that kept her husband safe for her while he was at work. The people who he risked his life for and who, in turn, risked their lives for him.

"Yeah, I want them to meet you all." He reeled her into his side and pressed a sloppy kiss to her temple, unable to stop from smiling against her skin.

Maybe it was time to introduce them.

***

"Stay close girls, I don't want you wandering round here." (Y/n) eyed two of her girls closely and tilted her head at them so they knew she was being serious. The last thing she wanted was to lose the girls at the station and then an alarm go off and chaos ensued.

They had to stay close and within her sights so no trouble was caused, this was the first time the girls would see their dad at work.

It wasn't supposed to be today, but plans had changed.

"I want daddy," Ella bit her thumb, her big blue eyes doing a wide sweep of the station that looked as big as her whole school, playground included. She couldn't see her dad anywhere and she had been crying for him for the last hour. The little girl was getting restless.

"We're gonna find him now." Reaching down, (Y/n) brushed Ella's hair behind her ear before she juggled Cora a little higher on her hip. She didn't have time to struggle getting the pushchair into the car when she had to go and pick the girls up from school and now she was regretting it. She had to carry Cora around with her, lest she wanted to set her down on the floor and watch her crawl around the station and drool everywhere.

"Hi, can I help you?" Chimney stuffed his hands into his pockets, smiling brightly at the four girls he saw walking past the truck, clearly lost in the station.

"Hi… is Evan around? Is it okay if we see him?" (Y/n) smiled nervously and did another double take of the station. She could hear voices coming from the loft upstairs but she couldn't see who was up there.

"Sure, he's just upstairs… you must be Maddie, I'm Howie, but everyone calls me Chimney."

(Y/n) felt her smile melt into a more comfortable one as she walked over to him, making sure Angel and Ella were right behind her as Chimney guided them over towards the stairs. Evan had told the team he had a big sister then, at least he had opened up to them a little. (Y/n) knew he told them he was married, it was the girls he hadn't said anything about.

He didn't mention he had three of them.

"Hey Chim… do we have guests for dinner?" Bobby moved the large dish of pasta into the centre of the table before he pulled back and placed his hands on his hips. His smile was warm and inviting as he looked over the troop of girls who were stood beside chimney.

No one mentioned having family or guests popping by the station today, not that it really mattered. Anyone was welcome as long as it wasn't an inspection day or the bell didn't go off unannounced and ruin things. The station was warm and friendly, they wanted family to feel safe and comfortable coming here and being around the team.

"I think we do, this is-"

"(Y/n)?" Evan almost dropped the bottle of water he just got out the fridge when he turned around and clocked his gaze on his wife.

What was she doing here? Why did she have the girls with her? They should be at school right now.

"Surprise," She bounced Cora on her hip who gurgled, content at pulling the necklace tight in her fist and try to shove it into her mouth.

"Wait, (Y/n)?" Chimney pulled his hands from his pockets and turned at an angle to look at the woman stood beside him. She didn't correct him when he assumed she was Buck's sister Maddie. She didn't say her name or even say anything. This couldn't be the girl Buck was always telling them about, the girl Chimney had been very sure didn't actually exist. She was as beautiful as Buck always boasted.

"Daddy!" Ella could of cried when her blurry eyes finally set on the one person she had been crying out for during the past hour or so.

She pulled away from her big sister and bolted past the large table, bypassed Bobby who seemed to be in her way and made a beeline towards Evan, almost knocking him down with her force. She barelled into his arms, narrowly missing his legs when he lifted her up so she didn't rugby-tackle him down into the fridge behind him.

He lifted her up and swung her round in the air, a bright smile painting his face as he lowered her back down and snuggled her into his chest. His arms pinned her against his chest and he smothered her temple with kisses to feel her squirm and wriggle against him.

"Hi baby! Why aren't you at school?" Evan's voice was a notch higher than normal and full of surprise as he rubbed his cheek against the top of her head and shimmied side to side with his middle girl.

"Hi daddy,"

"Hi sweetie," Evan cooed back and raised his free hand to his temple before he slowly stretched his arm out in the sign for hello.

He grinned broadly when Angel trotted over and wrapped her arms around his legs, burrowing into him to get some of his attention since she was here too. She was the eldest, after all, she was the one who Evan always called his 'little angel' and not just because it was her name. She was his first born, then Ella was his middle girl who was his little double, and Cora was his youngest baby.

"Buck, care to introduce us?" Bobby clamped one hand down on his hip and reached the other out to lean against the kitchen counter.

He rose his brows and quirked a smile as Chimney stood flabbergasted, Hen sat at the table with an open mouth and shock written on her face.

And Eddie did well to hide his surprise as he made a beeline for (Y/n) and the toddler in her arms.

"Guys, this is (Y/n)," Evan pointed over to his wife who he slowly shuffled towards with Angel still clinging to his legs. "This is my eldest, Angel, then there's Ella here," He bounced her on his hip but she hid her face in his neck, too shy to look around. "And the youngest there is Cora; meet my squad."

All of them could see Evan had a proud smile, bright shining eyes and a deep chuckle hiding in his chest. These were his girls, his squad of ladies and he was proud and cherished each of them. He had his wife and three special girls to show off and now the team could see that he wasn't the reckless person they all thought he was. He was a proud dad to three girls.

"Girls, this is my captain Bobby… that's Hen, Chimney you've seen, and this is my pal Eddie."

"You didn't mention anything about this. Where have you been hiding them?" Hen spoke around her cup of coffee but she was too shocked to take another sip.

Buck; their nutter Buck was a dad. He had three children hidden away that they had no idea about.

"You don't waste much time, do you Buck?" Eddie smirked, letting his eyes drift between his friend and (Y/n) until the rest of the team looked over and it clicked in.

She was pregnant.

"I told you, this is my squad."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes but her smile gave away the slight blush and embarrassment she felt. This was exactly what they both had been expecting when the team realised that Evan wasn't even thirty yet and he already had three children, soon to become four.

Her gaze turned back to Eddie who was tickling Cora and she happily handed her toddler over when he muttered a kind 'may I?'. He moved to sit down at the table with Cora on his lap, bouncing her up and down and entertaining her like a champion.

"Now why aren't you at school?" Evan looked back down at Ella and gently brushed his thumb against her cheek to try and get her to talk to him but she stayed quiet and instead buried her face more into his neck to hide herself away.

Looking down at his eldest girl, Evan adjusted Ella a bit higher in his arms so he could raise his hands out in front of him with Ella in the crook of his elbow. He raised his left palm up and pressed his right palm down like he was making a funny clap, doing the sign language for school while he simultaneously whispered 'no school' at her. He was the one who had dropped them both off at school this morning and he knew they shouldn't have left early today which begged the question, why were they here now at lunch time?

The seven-year-old looked up at him with her doe eyes and then looked across at her mum instead.

"They gave out cookies at school but no one mentioned they had milk in them."

"Lactose intolerant?" Hen muttered quietly but she pursed her lips and realised she had to be wrong when she saw Evan's reaction. He quickly pulled Ella back and cupped her face in his palm to look down at her and examine her like he'd been told she had been shot. His fingertips skimmed across her face before going to examine her neck which made the little girl pull back with a whine.

He could see it now. He could see the dried tears staining her cheeks and the redness all around her eyes and the blotches across her cheeks and down her neck.

"Ella's allergic to milk," (Y/n) tried to smile but it was hard after the argument she'd just had with the school.

There was a laminated piece of paper in Ella's school bag that listed off her allergies and it was on her record and written down in reception and the classroom cupboard. No one could miss it or forget or not realise she had allergies. At home there was a big sticker that said 'Allergies: MILK' in bright brick red letters at the top so if anyone came round, they knew what they couldn't give to one of the girls. Then below that it listed her other allergies such as honey, lavender and plasters.

They had a section in the cupboard filled with all the biscuits and snacks Ella would eat which didn't contain milk.

Lavender brought Ella out in bright red splotches that itched and burned like she had been touched by a red hot poker. Plasters were less dramatic, they were irritating to her skin and slowly started to feel like they burned. Honey was hit and miss, it either made her chest burn and her skin blotch or she had a worse reaction and couldn't breathe.

But milk was the main allergy, anytime Ella had milk she went into anaphalactic shock. Her throat would swell and close up, her chest would ache and burn and she had to have one if not two shots of adrenaline from her EpiPen to stop the reaction.

When Ella was a baby, her allergy was less serious, they had to buy special baby powder that she could take. But as soon as she was a toddler and they tried any other form of milk, they had to take a drive down to A&E or call an ambulance.

"Did they use your EpiPen?" Evan spoke quietly, his brows still furrowed and his lips still held in a deep frown as he looked down at his daughter. He started to relax a little when Ella leaned into the palm of his hand and nuzzled her nose against his wrist making him feel more at ease but he still frowned when she nodded. She looked as if she was about to cry again but when she curled her arms around Evan's neck and he kissed her cheek, she seemed to calm down a bit more.

"I didn't know daddy, I only had one bite,"

"It's not your fault baby," He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and tightened his arms round her when she leaned her cheek on his shoulder.

The school had a list of Ella's allergies and they had two EpiPens, one in the classroom and one in the reception as a back up. She took her own pack up to school so there was no risk of anything being contaminated with milk but they should double check before they give her anything. (Y/n) had told them under no circumstances to give Ella anything that wasn't in a packet, especially cake when children brought in their birthday cake that didn't have a list of ingredients. It wasn't worth the risk when Ella had such a high allergy.

At least she was okay this time, Evan had been called before from the school saying she had two EpiPens administered and they called an ambulance as protocol.

(Y/n) got the phone call but they had been quick giving Ella her dose of adrenaline and she calmed down, started to breathe and talk just fine and when (Y/n) rushed down and checked her over, there was no need for an ambulance. But Ella was in a state and she didn't want to stay and to make things easier, she had collected Angel early as well so she didn't have to go back in a few hours and pick her up later.

The plan had been to take the girls home but Ella had cried as soon as she got in the car, demanding to see her dad. It was routine after any allergic reaction that Ella saw Evan and got comforted by him and today was no different, she wasn't going home without seeing her daddy.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Is that okay?" (Y/n) looked between Bobby and Evan, double checking that it would be okay for the girls to stay, none of them had had anything to eat yet other than a partial cookie that caused today's chaos.

"Of course! We have to get to know you all now anyway," Hen waved for them all to sit down around the table. It was the routine to eat dinner together as a family and now, finally, they could meet Buck's family and get to know them. They were going to be part of the 118 either way so they should stay.

Evan leaned over Eddie so he could give Cora a quick kiss, he hadn't seen his one year old yet who Eddie gently handed back to (Y/n). And Evan kissed (Y/n)'s temple before he moved and took a seat next to (Y/n) with Ella on his lap since she was attached to him at the moment. Angel moved to sit between Evan and Chimney while Bobby sat at the other end of the table.

A fondness washed over Bobby when he looked at Evan suddenly interacting with Angel.

He held his hands out in front of him and curled all fingers but his pinkies into his palm and made a circular motion with his hands before pulling his arms back at his sides like repelling magnets.

"Pasta for lunch sweetie," He spoke slow and clear and repeated the sign for pasta until Angel nodded and grinned. It was one of her favourites.

"What's the sign for hello?" Chimney looked over Angel at Evan who was sat on her other side but his eyes widened when Angel looked up at him and placed her hand to her head and did a salute. Hello was an easy sign, a simple gesture that many mistook for an army salute.

"She can read your lips if you speak clear, sign is just easier for her, we're working on pronouncing," Evan kissed her temple when she leaned into his arm, looking up at him with adoration in her eyes as she watched him explain.

Angel could speak but her pronouncing was a little bad at the moment, she could barely hear anyone or hear herself speak and it made her self conscious. Sign language was easier and calming for her because no one could make fun of how she said things and she could sign much faster than she could lip read or speak.

"Oh, right."

"Daddy…" Ella looked up at him with bashful eyes when he plated up Angel and himself a bowl of pasta, knowing Ella would share with him.

"No milk baby, I saw Bobby make it. You'll be fine." He winked down at her and took a mouthful before he stabbed another forkful and held it down towards her. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head to keep her calm and when she took a cautious bite, she grinned.

Evan went to take another mouthful but his jaw dropped and he gasped when Ella reached both her small hands up and grabbed his wrist to pull the fork down to her instead. She giggled when Evan tipped his head back and groaned but everyone else started to laugh.

"My daughters like your cooking, Cap." Evan gave up and handed Ella the fork so she could eat first, he knew he wasn't going to get very much now until she was finished. And he leaned over to the left and kissed Angel's forehead, rubbing his free hand up and down her back.

"I'm glad to hear it, that means they can all come by more often."

[ao3commentoftheday]

I just wanted to drop in and commend the work you do on your Ao3 skins. 🏅

As someone who has been writing CSS for... god, 20+ years??? (like... professionally, as in I am the resident CSS expert at my company) even *I* find the AO3 stylesheet daunting and a hassle to work with. The specificity of a lot of the selectors and the lack of styles that actually 'cascade' without me having to slap "!important" on them gets really tedious for me really fast 🥲

So... you know. When you say "oh I'm just tinkering around/still learning/barely know what I'm doing/etc" please understand that you're genuinely doing impressive work that I KNOW must take a ton of time. It's been yeeeaars since I tried making an Ao3 skin, but know you got me feeling inspired 👀

*hits that kudos button*

Thank you so much 💗🥰 they're a labour of love and I'm glad to know that it's noticed and appreciated!

I play down my CSS skills for two main reasons:

I want people to know how accessible it is to you if you want to learn some basic code and make some wild looking skins with it and

I want people to know that I'll help as best as I can, but there are MANY QUESTIONS I will not have an answer for 🤣

My way of going about creating a site skin is probably pretty divergent from yours exactly because I don't have professional experience with CSS. I have zero expectations when it comes to style sheets and selectors. AO3 is the only website I've ever tried to style (other than my own), so to me all websites could be that arcane. I've never checked 🤷‍♀️

I basically go into a new site skin with an aesthetic and a prayer and then get rabidly obsessed with figuring out how to do One Cool Thing (tm) - like drop cap letters or images in borders or gradients or... - and then I do it in that one skin and promptly forget how to do it before I even get to the next one.

But that's because I find making site skins fun. I love doing wacky things with them. I love taking a fairly basic website design and making it look as complex as the back end really is. I love AO3 and my site skins are a little love letter, I guess. And a way to be creative when other creative wells are kind of dry. And they're a way I can give back to a community that has given me a lot. And they're just a cool fun thing that I want more people to know about and enjoy.

Anyway, not to get all sincere on a post about putting cute outfits on a fanfic website, but that's why I do it. And getting this much attention for it is kind of stressful because I'm always wary of the Attention Beast and not wanting to feed my desire for more of it.

I hope you do decide to make a skin of your own, and if you ever feel like sharing it out with an audience just at me in the post and I'll reblog it 😀 I'd love to see what you come up with!