#do you want me to have bad grades to finally take me seriously?

[fuqnia]

I'll Compliment You Frequently (3) ₊˚⊹♡

♡ kenny mccormick x fem!reader insert | college au, smut

♡ A/N | can u tell i really love cartman. (still mad this is 3 parts) also i'm so sorry for kenny's dialogue lmfao

♡ C/W | NSFW (18+), ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP, kissing, oral sex (male & female receiving) inexperienced reader, p in v penetration, kenny has a filthy mouth ☹️

event masterlist | part one | part two

Your eyes snap open, and you shake your head, like you can physically knock the thought out of your skull.

No. That’s insane. Red doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about. She’s always been the type to stir shit up just to watch what happens. Kenny doesn���t like you. He never has. If he did, he wouldn’t have spent the last decade shamelessly hooking up with every willing person in South Park. He wouldn’t have kissed Tammy Warner at Tolkien’s party. He wouldn’t have sat there in his truck, acting like giving him a blowjob was no big deal.

Your phone buzzes again, and you finally pull yourself out of your spiral long enough to glance at it. Your lock screen is filled with notifications—text after text from Kyle, Stan, and Butters, all checking in.

Kyle’s messages are straightforward, but you can tell he’s actually worried.

KYLE: hey, haven’t seen you in class. you good?

KYLE: seriously, what’s going on?

KYLE: if this is about damien, don’t let it fuck up your grades. just talk to me.

Stan’s texts are scattered, like he’s been meaning to reach out but keeps getting distracted.

STAN: yo, are u sick or some shit? u havent been around.

STAN: dude, even cartman’s noticing. that’s bad.

STAN: hit me up, we’ll go get a drink or something.

And then there’s Butters, who’s been spamming you with increasingly distressed messages.

BUTTERS: Oh hamburgers, Kyle said you’ve been missing class, are you okay?

BUTTERS: Gosh, I know breakups are hard, but you’re scaring us a little :(

BUTTERS: Do you need anything? Soup? A hug? I can bring you my mom’s essential oils!

BUTTERS: Or, gosh, maybe I could just come sit with you? You shouldn’t be alone when you’re sad!

You feel a pang of guilt, staring at the screen. They’ve all been trying to check in on you, and you’ve been ignoring them, letting your own mess swallow you whole. You should probably answer, reassure them that you’re not dead, at the very least. But before you can start typing, another text comes in.

CARTMAN: sup. u busy?

You frown immediately. Of all the people to reach out, Cartman is the last one you expected.

YOU: what do you want

His response is almost instant.

CARTMAN: jeez bitch, chill. just wanted to say sorry about u and damien.

Your stomach turns.

Cartman, being nice? That’s suspicious as hell.

YOU: lol fuck off

Normally, that would be the end of it. But instead of letting it go, he sends another message.

CARTMAN: nah fr. breakups suck. lets hang out. get ur mind off it

You narrow your eyes at your phone. This is weird. Cartman doesn’t just hang out for no reason. If he’s being nice, it means he’s either scheming or trying to manipulate you into doing something.

YOU: what are you up to

YOU: why the fuck would i ever willingly hang out with you

The typing bubble pops up.

CARTMAN: because im the only one with the balls to hit u up rn

Your lips press together.

You glance at Kyle’s texts. Stan’s. Butters’. They’ve all checked in, yeah, but none of them have really pushed. Not like Cartman is.

The typing bubble appears again.

CARTMAN: cmon. lets go get food or some shit.

CARTMAN: i know ur sitting there all sad and mopey. bet ur still in pjs huh

CARTMAN: put on some pants and meet me outside

You hesitate, staring at your phone.

Every instinct is telling you not to do this. That it’s Cartman, and whatever he’s planning is definitely not for your benefit.

But the thought of leaving your dorm, of stepping outside and breathing fresh air for the first time in days, suddenly sounds really appealing.

You take a deep breath, tossing your phone onto the bed before pushing yourself up. Your limbs feel heavy, like they haven’t been used in days, which isn’t far from the truth. You shuffle over to your dresser, yanking it open and digging through the mess of clothes inside, searching for something that doesn’t scream depression cave goblin.

The mirror catches your eye, and you wince. Jesus Christ. Red was right—you look like absolute shit. Your eyes are puffy, your hair is a tangled mess, and the hoodie you’ve been living in has at least three different food stains on it. You shake your head, peeling it off and grabbing the first decent top you can find. A black long-sleeve, something simple. You throw on a pair of jeans, lace up your sneakers, and drag yourself into the bathroom to try to look like a functional human being.

Brushing your teeth feels like the first productive thing you’ve done in days. You wash your face, rub at the bags under your eyes, and decide to put on some light makeup—just enough to make yourself look like you haven’t been crying into your pillow for seventy-two hours straight. A bit of concealer, some mascara, a touch of blush to bring life back to your face. When you finally step back from the mirror, you almost feel normal again. Not great, not even good, but at least like someone who belongs outside.

You grab your phone and shove it into your pocket before heading out, stepping into the crisp afternoon air. It feels weird being outside after isolating yourself for so long—like stepping into a completely different world.

Cartman is waiting near the dorm entrance, leaning against a bike rack with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie. He looks… surprisingly normal. No shit-eating grin, no obvious I’m plotting something look on his face. He just raises an eyebrow when he sees you, nodding in approval.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls. “You do remember what fresh air is.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Shut the fuck up.”

Cartman smirks, but it’s not as smug as usual. More amused than anything. “Nah, but for real, you look way better. Like, less feral.”

You scoff but don’t argue. The two of you start walking without discussing where you’re going, falling into an easy pace.

Cartman glances at you, hands still stuffed in his pockets. “So. You gonna tell me why you’ve been hiding in your dorm like some emo bitch, or do I have to guess?”

You huff, staring straight ahead. “Gee, Cartman, maybe because I just broke up with my boyfriend?”

He snorts. “Pfft. Yeah, sure, let’s pretend that’s the real reason.”

Your stomach twists, but you keep your expression neutral. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on.” He gives you a pointed look. “You and Kenny have been acting weird as shit since Tolkien’s party. And now you’re spiraling, ditching classes, dumping your little demon boytoy outta nowhere? Yeah, I wonder what could’ve possibly happened.”

Your throat tightens. You knew people had noticed, but hearing it out loud makes it real.

You shake your head, trying to deflect. “Jesus, Cartman. What, are you a fucking therapist now?”

Cartman smirks. “Nah, just not fucking blind.”

You don’t say anything. You just keep walking, staring at the ground, your hands stuffed in your pockets.

Cartman watches you for a second, then exhales through his nose. “Look, dude, I don’t actually give a shit about your love life. But it’s pathetic watching you and Kenny dance around this bullshit. Either fix it or get over it.”

Your fingers tighten into fists in your pockets. “It’s not that simple.”

Cartman groans. “It is that simple! You like him, right?”

Your breath catches, and that’s all the answer he needs.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Fucking knew it.”

Your face burns. “Shut up.”

Cartman just grins, smug as ever. “Nope. Not until you admit it.”

You glare at him, but he just keeps looking at you, waiting. Daring you to say it out loud.

Your jaw clenches. Your pulse is hammering in your ears, and you don’t want to talk about this, but the words slip out before you can stop them.

“…I fucking hate you.”

Cartman barks out a laugh. “That’s not a denial, bitch.”

You groan, rubbing your hands down your face. “Fine! Yes! Okay? I fucking like him. Happy?”

Cartman smirks. “Extremely.”

You scowl, shoving him. “I hate you.”

Cartman swings into the drive-thru like he owns the place, barely glancing at the menu before rattling off his order—two double cheeseburgers, a large fries, and a Diet Coke, because of course he drinks Diet Coke with all that shit. You roll your eyes but place your order, opting for something way smaller because you don’t have the stomach for a grease coma right now.

Surprisingly, hanging out with Cartman is… nice. Not in a sentimental way, because that would be fucking weird, but in a way that makes you forget, just for a little while, that your life is a disaster. He’s still an asshole, still poking at you with sarcastic remarks, but the edge isn’t as sharp as usual. He lets you eat in peace, doesn’t push you to talk about Kenny any more, and for once, you don’t feel like he’s scheming.

Which is why you don’t even think to ask where the hell you’re going when he starts driving again.

It’s not until you’ve been on the road for a solid fifteen minutes, the town shrinking in the rearview mirror, that it finally clicks.

You frown, glancing out the window at the passing trees. “…Where the fuck are we going?”

Cartman, not taking his eyes off the road, just smirks. “Oh, now you notice?”

You glare at him. “Cartman.”

He huffs dramatically, shaking his head. “So impatient. Jesus.”

“Dude, seriously.”

Cartman sighs, but there’s a glint in his eye, like he’s been waiting for you to ask. “Okay, fine, buzzkill. I was gonna keep it a surprise, but whatever.” He shifts in his seat, adjusting his grip on the wheel. “Karen wanted to see you.”

Your brain stalls.

Your stomach flips.

“What?”

Cartman barely reacts, just shrugs. “Yeah. She called me yesterday, practically begging me to bring your sorry ass down. Apparently, someone’s been ignoring her texts?”

Guilt immediately floods through you. Karen had been texting you, but in the middle of all the Kenny bullshit, you just… never replied.

You turn to Cartman, eyes wide, hands bracing against the dashboard. “Are you serious?!”

Cartman smirks, nodding. “Mhm.”

You let out a squeal, bouncing in your seat. “Oh my God—why didn’t you tell me sooner?!”

Cartman snorts. “Because it’s fucking hilarious watching you freak out.”

You don’t even care. You’re too busy buzzing with excitement, practically vibrating with the need to see Karen. It’s been too long—too many weeks since you last hung out, since you last talked about anything that wasn’t just a casual text. The moment you heard she declined your offer to visit, you figured she was just busy with school, but knowing she wanted to see you? That she asked Cartman to bring you?

You almost want to cry.

The next hour flies by. You barely notice the drive, too busy fidgeting in your seat, checking your phone, resisting the urge to text Karen to say you’re coming. Cartman teases you, of course, calling you a gross sap and telling you to calm the fuck down, but you can’t help it. This is exactly what you needed.

When the car finally pulls up to the McCormick house, you don’t even wait for it to stop completely.

You’re out of the car in seconds, practically jogging up the porch steps, your heart pounding with excitement. You knock on the door, bouncing slightly on the balls of your feet, barely able to contain yourself.

But when the door swings open, it’s not Karen.

It’s Kenny.

Your stomach drops.

The excitement in your chest turns to stone, sinking straight to your gut as you freeze on the porch, your breath catching in your throat. Kenny blinks at you, looking just as stunned, his lips parting slightly like he hadn’t been expecting you either.

“…Oh,” you manage, swallowing thickly. “Uh. Hey.”

Kenny recovers fast. His lips twitch into something resembling a smirk, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hey, yourself.”

Behind you, Cartman slams his car door and walks up the porch steps, brushing past you like you don’t even exist. “Alright, my work here is done,” he announces, already heading inside like he fucking lives here. “You two idiots have fun figuring your shit out.”

You whip around, your eyes wide. “What?!”

Cartman just grins over his shoulder. “Later, lovebirds.” And then—like the absolute menace he is—he disappears inside, leaving you standing there, stunned, while Kenny leans against the doorframe, watching you with an unreadable expression.

Realization crashes over you like a fucking avalanche.

Karen never called Cartman.

Karen never asked to see you.

This was his plan.

Cartman set you up.

You turn back to Kenny, your mouth opening, but nothing comes out.

Because this—standing here, alone with Kenny, trapped in a situation you never would’ve willingly walked into—is exactly what you’ve been avoiding for days.

Kenny exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before tilting his head at you, his smirk just barely masking the tension in his eyes. “You gonna stand there all night, or you actually gonna come inside?”

You shift on your feet, suddenly hyper-aware of every nerve in your body screaming at you to run. Your fingers twitch at your sides, your throat feels tight, and for a second, you actually consider turning around, walking back to Cartman’s car, and demanding that he drive you anywhere but here.

But you don’t.

Because Kenny is still watching you, standing in the doorway of his shitty little house, backlit by the dim glow of the kitchen light, his expression unreadable. And despite the panic clawing up your throat, despite everything you’ve been trying so hard to bury, there’s still a part of you—a really fucking annoying part of you—that wants to talk to him.

You cross your arms, licking your lips. “Did you know about this?”

Kenny lets out a dry, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Nah. Thought you were the one who wanted to see me.”

Your stomach twists.

“Guess Cartman’s still a conniving little bastard,” Kenny mutters, stepping back, giving you space to walk inside. He doesn’t invite you in, not really, but he’s waiting.

You hesitate.

If you go inside, you can’t ignore this anymore. Can’t pretend like things are fine. Can’t act like everything that happened between you two never fucking happened.

But if you don’t go inside…

Kenny shifts his weight, shoving his hands in his pockets, still watching you, still waiting.

Fuck.

You exhale sharply through your nose, your hands clenching into fists, and finally, finally, you step forward, brushing past him into the house.

The door clicks shut behind you.

Kenny’s house is just as you remember—dim, cluttered but not dirty, the faint scent of weed and cheap cologne lingering in the air. It’s weird being here again, standing in the same place you’ve crashed a hundred times before, but now the air feels thick, the weight of everything unspoken pressing down on your chest.

Kenny walks past you, moving toward the kitchen, not looking back as he grabs two beers from the fridge. He cracks one open, then tosses the other to you without warning. You catch it just in time, fumbling slightly, scowling as you glance up at him.

“What?” Kenny shrugs, taking a sip from his bottle. “Figured you might need it.”

You narrow your eyes. “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Kenny smirks against the rim of his bottle, tilting his head as he leans back against the counter. “Relax, princess. Just saying, you look like you’re five seconds away from bolting.”

You are.

You really fucking are.

But you don’t.

Instead, you crack open your beer, take a long, slow sip, and fix Kenny with the kind of glare you hope makes you look unbothered. “Cartman’s a piece of shit.”

Kenny huffs out a laugh. “No shit.”

Silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating. You shift on your feet, fingers tightening around your bottle, your pulse thudding in your ears. You need to say something, anything to get past this fucking wall between you.

But before you can, Kenny beats you to it.

“So,” he drawls, tilting his head, his eyes locking onto yours. “How long were you gonna avoid me?”

Your breath catches.

Kenny watches you, his eyes sharp, his smirk lazy but too knowing, like he already has the answer, like he’s just waiting for you to lie.

Your grip tightens around your beer. “I wasn’t avoiding you.”

Kenny laughs.

It’s not loud, not mocking—it’s something else. Something that makes your skin prickle, something that makes your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Yeah?” he hums, stepping closer. “So you just happened to ghost me for, what? Four days?”

“Five,” you mutter before you can stop yourself.

Kenny raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Ah. So you were counting.”

You scowl, hating the heat creeping up your neck. “Fuck off.”

Kenny grins, leaning in just slightly. “C’mon, babe. Just tell me.” His voice dips lower, smoother, the teasing lilt sending something sharp and hot curling through your chest. “Did kissing me really fuck you up that bad?”

Your breath hitches, your stomach flipping violently as your grip goes slack around your bottle. You open your mouth, but nothing—nothing—comes out, because what the fuck is he even asking you?

And Kenny—Kenny notices.

His smirk flickers, like he wasn’t actually expecting you to react like this. Like he thought you’d just roll your eyes, shove him, laugh it off like you always do.

Like he didn’t just turn everything you thought you knew upside down.

And that’s what does it. That’s what fucking breaks you.

“Are your parents home?” you snap, your voice sharp and shaking.

Kenny’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. “No. They’re out.”

And that’s all it takes before you fucking explode.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” The words rip out of your chest, raw and jagged, your body thrumming with barely-contained rage. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, your entire body vibrating. “You knew I was fucking avoiding you, Kenny! You knew and you still—” You let out a sharp, exasperated breath, shoving both hands into your hair before throwing them up wildly. “What the fuck was that back at Stan’s dorm? What the fuck is this—” You motion between the two of you, your chest heaving, your breath coming too fast. “Why the fuck did you kiss me?”

Kenny just leans back against the counter, watching you, letting you burn yourself out. But then—then his smirk sharpens into something mean, something ugly.

“I dunno,” he drawls, voice casual, but there’s an edge underneath it, a low, dangerous bite. “Maybe ‘cause you kissed me back?”

“That’s not—” You shake your head violently, rage choking you, clawing up your throat. “That’s not fucking fair, Kenny! You don’t get to act like I’m the only one who—” Your voice breaks, your hands shaking.

He steps forward, his presence looming, his blue eyes burning into yours. “The only one who what?” His voice is smooth, sharp, his breath warm against your face. “Who liked it?”

Your throat goes dry, because you can’t argue that.

Kenny sees your hesitation. His smirk deepens, but his jaw is tight, his shoulders tense. “’Cause babe, you sure as fuck didn’t seem like you wanted to stop.”

Something in you snaps.

You shove him. Hard.

And for the first time—Kenny actually stumbles.

He catches himself, his hands twitching like he wants to grab you, to steady himself, but he doesn’t. He just stares at you, eyes flashing, jaw clenched so tight you think he might break his fucking teeth.

“I was confused,” you spit, voice cracking. “I am fucking confused! Because for years, you never—” You let out a sharp, bitter laugh, throwing your arms up. “You never fucking looked at me like that before! You never touched me like that before! And now—now you’re just—” Your breath stutters, your vision blurring.

Kenny stares at you, his entire body coiled like a fucking trap.

“You never let me,” he says, voice rough, hoarse.

You freeze.

Kenny exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling. “You never fucking let me, babe.” His voice is raw, wrecked, and for the first time tonight, there’s no teasing, no amusement, nothing to hide behind. Just Kenny—exposed and furious. “You were always looking at someone else. Always chasing after some other fucking guy. Always acting like I was just—” He shakes his head, scoffing, jaw flexing. “You don’t even see me.”

“You never fucking saw me,” Kenny continues, his voice gaining heat, cracking under the weight of whatever the fuck he’s been holding back all these years. “Not like that. Not the way I see you.”

Your hands tremble, curling into the fabric of your shirt. Your head spins, your pulse a frantic, erratic drumbeat against your ribs.

And Kenny—Kenny looks at you like he hates you for making him admit it.

“Kenny,” you whisper, but your voice is useless. Weak.

He just shakes his head, laughing bitterly, shoving a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ, you’re fucking unbelievable.” His breath shudders as he steps back, putting space between you, his hands gripping the edge of the counter like he needs something to hold onto. “You don’t even get it, do you?” His laughter dies, his  eyes meeting yours, burning into yours. “You like me. You fucking want me. But you’re too chickenshit to admit it, so instead, you just let me fuckin’ sit there, watching you fall all over Damien fucking Thorn like a goddamn idiot—”

“I did like Damien!” you snap, voice shaking. “I do! He—” You cut yourself off, because that’s a lie. You didn’t like Damien. Not really. Not the way you should’ve.

Not the way you liked Kenny.

And Kenny fucking knows.

His lips curl into something bitter, something that isn’t really a smile. “Yeah?” he mutters. “And that’s why you let me put my hands all over you in my truck, right? That’s why you let me fuckin’ taste you?”

Your entire body locks up.

Because fuck him.

“Fuck you,” you spit, voice shaking.

Kenny just laughs, running a hand down his face, shaking his head. “Yeah, well—join the fucking club.”

Your hands are shaking. Your face is hot. Your heart is hammering so fucking hard you think it might burst.

And Kenny just stands there, breathing hard, his hands still gripping the counter, like he’s barely keeping himself together.

Like he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with himself anymore.

The air between you is electric. It’s thick, choking, so tense that you think one more wrong move might make the whole fucking house collapse around you.

You reach for the half-empty beer on the counter, your fingers gripping the can so tight it dents slightly under your hold. You take a long, slow swig, the bitterness of it doing nothing to cool the heat burning under your skin. You swallow hard, setting the can down with a sharp clink against the counter.

Then you look at him.

"Go fuck yourself, Kenny." Your voice is flat, empty, but your chest is aching.

Kenny’s expression doesn’t change, but you see the way his jaw flexes, the way his fingers curl against the counter. He doesn’t smirk. He doesn’t crack some bullshit joke. He just watches you, silent and unreadable.

“You wanna talk about me chasing guys?” You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking your head. “I was never chasing anyone, Kenny. And you know that.”

Kenny doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

You inhale sharply, fingers tightening against the countertop. “Everyone fucking knows that. I’ve never had a boyfriend, never had a girlfriend, never even had a fucking chance in high school. And you wanna know the worst part?” You laugh again, but it’s bitter, sharp as a knife against your throat. “It wasn’t just me who knew it. You, Kyle, Stan, Cartman—all of you knew. And you acted like it wasn’t a big fucking deal. Like I wouldn’t notice.”

Kenny finally moves, shifting his weight, his brows pulling together slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt.

You press forward, your voice rising. “You acted like I was just supposed to be fine with hearing about all the people you fucked, all the people you kissed. Like I wasn’t the only one sitting there, listening, realizing that I was never gonna have what you had. That I was never—” Your breath catches, your throat tightening. “That no one was ever gonna want me like that.”

Something flashes across Kenny’s face, something quick and sharp and pained. His hands flex against the counter, like he wants to reach for something—for you—but he stops himself.

“That’s not fucking true,” he mutters, voice lower now, rough around the edges.

You huff out a sharp breath. “Yeah? Then why didn’t it happen, Kenny?” You shake your head, forcing out a bitter smile. “If it wasn’t true, if I was so wanted, then why the fuck did I spend years being the only one who never had a story to tell?”

Kenny opens his mouth. Then closes it. He looks away, his fingers twitching against the counter, his breathing shallow.

You don’t know what you want him to say.

Maybe you want him to tell you that you’re wrong. That it wasn’t like that. That there was some other reason, some stupid fucking excuse for why you were always left on the sidelines, why you never got to be the one with the relationship, the first kiss, the stupid high school romance.

"You know what else fucking hurts?" Your voice is rising now, louder than before, chest heaving with every sharp inhale. "I had to hear about your love lives from other people." You jab a finger at him, your whole body vibrating with anger. "Kyle, Stan, Cartman—they’d all mention shit offhandedly, and I’d just have to sit there and fucking pretend I already knew, because you sure as hell weren’t gonna tell me jack shit about it yourself."

Kenny flinches, the smallest movement, like he wasn’t expecting you to say that. Like it never even occurred to him that keeping that shit from you might’ve actually fucking hurt. His mouth opens like he wants to say something, but before he can, you keep going, the words pouring out faster than you can stop them.

"I got to sit there and hear about you making out with some girl behind the bleachers, about Stan losing his virginity junior year, about Kyle having that thing with that one chick from AP Chem—" You let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Cartman told me about half of your hookups, Cartman, and he tells me things just to fucking piss me off! And you—" Your voice cracks, and you shake your head, fists clenching. "You never said a fucking word. Not once."

Kenny's lips press together, jaw tight.

You’re yelling now, your whole body shaking, the years of being left out, of being treated like the safe, reliable best friend everyone could unload their shit on but never let in, bubbling up so violently you think you might actually explode.

"Do you have any fucking idea what that felt like? To sit there and smile and nod and act like it was fine? Like I wasn’t—like I wasn’t some fucking side character in my own goddamn life while you guys got to go out and—" You inhale sharply, voice trembling. "Live?"

The room feels hot. The air between you thick and suffocating, so heavy you think it might actually crush you.

And Kenny—fucking Kenny—doesn’t say a damn thing.

And that’s what makes you break.

You take a shaky breath, stepping back, running a hand through your hair, chest rising and falling unevenly. Your face is burning, your eyes sting, and you hate it, hate the way your throat tightens like you’re about to fucking cry. You refuse. You refuse to let Kenny McCormick be the one to break you.

Before either of you can say anything else, the door swings open, slamming against the wall with a dull thud.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Cartman deadpans, standing in the doorway with a bag of chips in one hand, an energy drink in the other. He looks at the two of you, expression completely unreadable. "Are you two gonna start throwing shit next, or should I just fucking go?"

Your chest is still heaving, adrenaline still buzzing under your skin, and Kenny looks about two seconds away from putting his fist through a wall. Neither of you say anything.

Cartman sighs, shaking his head as he takes in the scene. "You guys are seriously acting like Kenny’s parents."

You blink, thrown off just enough for your rage to falter. "What—"

Cartman waves a hand dismissively. "You’re yelling, he’s standing there looking like he’s about to punch a hole in the drywall, it’s fucking weird." He gestures vaguely between the two of you before taking a step back. "You know what? I don’t wanna be here for this. You two can scream at each other all you want, just don’t break anything. I’m getting the fuck out of here."

And with that, he turns on his heel and walks out, shutting the door behind him with a lazy thud.

The silence that follows is deafening.

You swallow hard, throat raw from yelling, your hands still curled into fists at your sides. Kenny is still standing there, his chest rising and falling, his jaw clenched so tight you think it might actually snap. His fingers twitch like he wants to reach for something—like he wants to reach for you—but he doesn’t.

Your heart is still hammering in your chest, adrenaline pulsing hot through your veins, but the fight is over. Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe it never will be. Maybe this thing between you will always be teetering on the edge of something too big, too messy, too painful to actually deal with.

You scoff softly, rolling your eyes even though they’re burning, even though your vision is blurring. You take a sharp breath, force it down, and turn away from him. You don’t want to fucking look at him. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

Your grip tightens around your beer as you move, your feet carrying you toward the hall before you can stop yourself. The floor creaks under you, the air in the house thick and stale, but you don’t slow down. You don’t stop until you reach the door to his childhood bedroom—the one he used to share with Karen, back when you were all just kids, before everything got so fucking complicated.

The door groans as you push it open. The room is small, dimly lit by the dull glow of the streetlights outside. It smells like old fabric, cigarette smoke, and something faintly familiar—something that makes your chest ache in a way you don’t want to acknowledge. The same shitty posters are still on the walls, some curling at the edges. The twin mattress is shoved into the corner, the sheets wrinkled, the blanket tangled.

You step inside and close the door behind you.

It’s quieter in here. Not better, not easier, just…quieter.

You move toward the bed, sitting down heavily on the edge, pressing the cool can against your forehead as you squeeze your eyes shut. Your breathing is still uneven, your hands still trembling, but you try to shove it down. Try to ignore the way your whole body feels like it’s been wound too tight, like if you let go for even a second, you might just fucking fall apart.

Because this—this whole thing, this whole fucking night—was a mistake.

You calm down, just enough to breathe without feeling like your ribs are gonna crack under the pressure. The beer helps. At least, it gives your hands something to do, gives your mouth something to focus on other than the lingering taste of bitterness and regret. You tilt your head back, taking a long pull, letting the lukewarm alcohol burn its way down your throat.

When the can is empty, you don’t think. You just crush it in your palm and toss it across the room. It clatters against the wall and bounces onto the floor, landing somewhere in the mess of old laundry and discarded shit Kenny probably hasn’t touched in years.

Your eyes wander, searching for something, anything, to latch onto so you don’t have to think too much. That’s when you spot it. One of Kenny’s old, shitty porn magazines, half-buried under some old CDs and a cracked game case. The corner is bent, the cover faded, but you know exactly what it is.

Without hesitating, you grab it. You flip through the pages lazily, not really absorbing anything, just needing something to do with your hands, something to focus on that isn’t the fight still burning under your skin.

And then the door creaks open.

You don’t look up, but you know it’s Kenny.

He steps inside, closing the door behind him, and for a second, he just stands there. You can feel him watching you, can feel the weight of his stare pressing against your skin, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t comment on the fact that you’re flipping through a fucking porno like you’re reading the morning paper.

Instead, he moves to the mattress on the floor and sits down heavily, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together. He exhales, slow and measured, like he’s still trying to piece together whatever the fuck just happened between the two of you.

You don’t acknowledge him.

The mattress creaks as Kenny shifts, his weight sinking into the old fabric. He exhales, long and heavy, a slow drag of air that sounds like he’s trying to keep himself from saying something he’ll regret. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough—low and worn in a way that makes your fingers tighten around the pages.

“…You really hate me that much, huh?”

There’s no teasing lilt, no hint of sarcasm or deflection. Just exhaustion, like he’s been carrying the weight of this conversation for days. His voice holds an edge of something else too, something raw, something almost afraid to hear the answer.

Your fingers pause against the edge of a page, the magazine trembling slightly in your grip.

You don’t look at him.

Instead, you scoff, but it comes out weaker than you meant. “Oh, don’t be fucking dramatic.”

Kenny laughs under his breath, but there’s nothing amused about it. The sound is hollow, like it barely scrapes its way out of his throat. He drags a hand down his face, his fingers pressing into his temples for a second before he lets them drop. His shoulders are tense, his whole body wound tight like a wire ready to snap.

“I’m not being dramatic,” he mutters, shaking his head. His blue eyes flick to you, sharp, intense. “I just don’t fucking get you.”

You flip another page, the movement slow and deliberate, like you’re trying to piss him off.

“What’s there to get?” you mutter, voice flat. “You’re the one who kissed me.”

Kenny’s jaw tightens, his lips pressing together for a second before he exhales sharply through his nose.

“Oh, so that’s how we’re playing this?” His voice is quieter now, but there’s something simmering beneath the surface, something restrained but dangerous. “We’re gonna act like I forced you?”

You don’t answer. You keep your eyes on the magazine, keep your breathing steady, even as your throat tightens and your stomach twists.

Kenny leans forward, his elbows pressing into his knees, his fingers laced together so tightly his knuckles go white. “You kissed me back,” he says, his voice steady, but his eyes—his fucking eyes—are burning into you, demanding something you can’t give. “You climbed into my lap.”

Your grip tightens on the magazine.

His voice dips lower, rougher. “And now, what? You wanna pretend it didn’t happen? You wanna pretend that was just—what? Another fucking favor?”

Finally, finally, you look at him.

Kenny stares at you, his blue eyes dark and stormy. His lips are parted slightly, like he’s caught mid-breath, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. There’s something in the way he looks at you that makes your stomach flip, something vulnerable, something hesitant, like he’s afraid of what you’re about to say.

You lick your lips, swallowing hard. “It was a mistake.”

Kenny doesn’t react at first.

Then he exhales sharply, a quiet scoff leaving his mouth as he shakes his head. “Bullshit.”

You glare at him. “It was.”

“No,” Kenny says, his voice harder now, rough around the edges, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You don’t get to fucking say that.” He pushes himself up from the mattress, his movements stiff, restless. “You don’t get to act like I was the only one who wanted it.”

Your breath stutters. “I—I didn’t—”

Kenny laughs, but it’s the kind of laugh that isn’t really a laugh at all. It’s sharp, bitter, filled with frustration. He turns his head away for a second, running a hand through his hair before looking back at you, his gaze searching, his brows furrowed.

“You didn’t what?” His voice is quieter now, but the words are no less intense. “You didn’t like it?” His eyes flicker to your lips before snapping back to meet your gaze, challenging, daring you to lie. “You want me to believe that?”

Your stomach clenches, and you shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek so hard you taste metal. “It doesn’t fucking matter, Kenny.”

“The fuck it doesn’t.” His voice cuts through the air like a knife. He takes a step closer, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Jesus Christ, do you even hear yourself?”

Your hands curl into fists in your lap. “Just drop it.”

Kenny scoffs. “Yeah? You want me to drop it?” He gestures between the two of you, his frustration spilling over, his eyes flashing. “Fine. Let’s drop it. Let’s pretend it didn’t happen, let’s go back to being best fucking friends—” His breath catches, and he stops abruptly, dragging a hand over his mouth before exhaling sharply. “But you can’t even look at me the same, can you?”

Your throat tightens.

Kenny’s breathing is heavy, his chest rising and falling in sharp bursts, his fingers twitching like he wants to grab something—like he wants to grab you. His voice lowers, quieter now, but still unsteady. “You broke up with Damien.”

You snap your head up. “What?”

His eyes don’t leave yours. “You broke up with him.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. “That—That’s not—”

Kenny shakes his head. “You did,” he says, stepping closer, his voice steadier now, like he’s putting the pieces together in real time. “And I bet he doesn’t even know why, does he?”

Your mouth opens, but no words come out.

Kenny watches you, his expression shifting—less anger now, more certainty. His brows draw together slightly, his lips parting just enough to take a breath, like he’s about to say something final. And then—his voice drops to almost a whisper.

“You like me.”

It’s not a question. It’s not a taunt. It’s just the truth.

Kenny tilts his head slightly, watching you, waiting, his expression open in a way that makes your chest ache. He looks at you like he’s finally, finally seeing you clearly. Like he understands something he should’ve figured out a long time ago.

You just stare at him, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a fucking landslide.

And Kenny—he fucking sees it. His lips part slightly, his chest rising and falling, and for a second, just a second, you think he’s going to say something else, going to push, going to demand more.

But then, he just exhales.

And the way he looks at you—like he finally, finally understands—makes your stomach fucking drop.

Tears blur your vision, and you shake your head, rubbing your sleeve over your eyes, trying to push them back, trying to keep yourself from completely fucking breaking in front of him. The old magazine slips from your lap, forgotten, landing with a dull thud against the mattress. You swallow thickly, your throat raw from screaming, from everything you’ve been holding in for days, weeks—hell, maybe years. Your hands press against your face, fingers curling into your hair as you force yourself to breathe, but it’s shallow, uneven.

The silence stretches. The weight of his gaze is suffocating. You can feel it—burning into you, like he’s watching you break apart in real time.

“I do like you,” you finally say, your voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. But the second the words leave your mouth, it feels like something inside you cracks wide open. Your chest tightens, your stomach twists, and you swallow around the lump forming in your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut. “I really do, Kenny.”

Your voice wavers, cracks like brittle glass, and you hate it. You hate how vulnerable you sound, how exposed you feel, like you’ve just handed him your fucking heart on a silver platter, knowing damn well he could crush it if he wanted to. But it’s too late to take it back now.

Your hands tremble against your face before slowly falling into your lap, fingers twisting into the fabric of your sleeves. You finally look at him. He hasn’t moved from where he sits on the mattress. His eyes are wide, lips parted like he’s struggling to find the right words, something unreadable flickering across his face.

A sharp inhale pulls through your nose, and you force yourself to keep going before you lose your nerve. “But do you—” Your throat tightens. You barely manage to push the words out, so soft, so fucking fragile that it makes you sick. “Do you even want to be in a relationship with me?”

Kenny just stares at you, his fingers twitching against his knee, his breathing uneven, like he wasn’t expecting this—like he wasn’t prepared to hear those words from you. His brows furrow slightly, his lips pressing together before parting again, but nothing comes out.

Your heart is pounding, hammering so fucking loud that it drowns out everything else, and the longer he takes to answer, the worse it gets. Your stomach twists, your fingers tighten around the sleeves of your shirt, and you suddenly feel like you’re going to be sick.

Kenny’s face falls, his eyes widening slightly as he watches you struggle to keep yourself together. The way your face crumples, the way your lip trembles as you bite down on it, the way your eyes shimmer with unshed tears—it fucking guts him.

Before you can turn away, before you can pull back and shut him out completely, Kenny reaches for you. His hands are rough, calloused, warm as they cup your face, his fingers pressing gently into your skin, grounding you, holding you there. His breath is uneven, his grip steady but not demanding, like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers if he isn’t careful.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “Don’t—don’t do that. Don’t look at me like that.” His thumbs brush against your cheeks, barely there, like he’s trying to wipe away tears that haven’t even fallen yet.

You swallow hard, blinking rapidly, your fingers gripping the fabric of your sleeves so tight that your knuckles ache. “You’re not saying anything,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of your own words. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Kenny exhales sharply, his thumbs still stroking your skin, his jaw clenching like he’s fighting against something. “Because I don’t wanna fuck this up,” he finally admits, his voice rough, almost desperate. His brows draw together, and he shakes his head, inhaling sharply. “I don’t wanna say the wrong thing and make you think for even one second that I don’t want you. That I don’t—” He exhales, shaking his head. “Fuck, babe. Of course I wanna be with you.”

Your breath catches. Your entire body stills.

Kenny’s hands tighten slightly against your face, his fingers twitching like he wants to pull you closer, like he wants to shake you until you actually fucking believe him. “You think I don’t want you?” His voice is thick, almost disbelieving. “Jesus, I’ve wanted you since we were kids. Since middle school. Since before I even knew what wanting someone actually meant.” His laugh is breathless, bitter, like he’s laughing at himself more than anything. “And yeah, I was a dumbass. I didn’t think I’d ever get a fucking chance, so I buried it. I watched you go through life thinking no one saw you, thinking you weren’t wanted, and it fucking killed me, because I saw you. I always saw you.”

Your chest tightens so painfully that it knocks the air from your lungs.

Kenny shakes his head, his grip on you still firm, still steady. “But you—you liked Damien. You wanted him, not me. So when you asked me to help, I thought—fuck, I thought that’s all I’d ever get.” His lips press together, his expression raw, stripped down to something so painfully real that it makes your stomach churn. “I thought if I couldn’t have you the way I wanted, at least I could be the one you came to first.”

A tear finally slips down your cheek. Kenny catches it with his thumb, his jaw tightening, his blue eyes burning with something so intense that it makes your heart clench.

“You’re fucking stupid, McCormick,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion.

Kenny lets out a sharp, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah,” he mutters, his lips quirking up into something sad, something small. “Yeah, I am.”

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s you. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it doesn’t even fucking matter.

Because the next thing you know, Kenny’s pulling you forward, and you’re meeting him halfway, crashing into him like you’ve been waiting for this moment your entire life.

The second Kenny’s lips press against yours, something shifts inside you. It’s not like before—not like the messy, desperate kisses you shared in the past, not like the times you let yourself pretend this was just practice, just a favor. This time, it’s different. This time, it’s real.

And it terrifies you.

Your breath hitches, your hands trembling as they hover awkwardly at your sides. You should be used to this by now, should know exactly how to move, exactly how to kiss him back, but everything feels brand new. It feels like the first time all over again, like you’re stepping into something you don’t fully understand, and you’re too afraid of fucking it up.

Kenny must notice, because instead of pushing forward, instead of deepening the kiss like he usually would, he slows down. His lips move against yours in a way that’s soft, careful, coaxing. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t take, doesn’t overwhelm you. He just lets you feel him, lets you process the fact that this is happening. That you’re here, with him, kissing him for real this time.

You inhale sharply, your fingers clenching into fists at your sides. The tension knots in your stomach, twisting tight, and the heat rising up your neck makes you feel like you’re burning from the inside out. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything except stand there and let yourself be kissed, let yourself be wanted in a way you never thought possible.

Kenny smiles into the kiss, and you feel it—feel the way his lips curve against yours, feel the way he’s holding back a laugh like he finds this whole situation amusing. Like he’s enjoying the way you’re coming apart so easily for him.

Your face flushes instantly, and you pull back, breathless and flustered, glaring at him. “Are you seriously smiling right now?”

Kenny lets out a quiet chuckle, his hands slipping down to your waist, fingers curling lightly around your sides. “Yeah,” he murmurs, voice smooth and teasing. “You’re just—fuck, you’re cute when you’re all shy like this.”

Your stomach twists violently, and you shove at his chest weakly, scowling. “I’m not shy.”

Kenny raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Babe, you’re shaking.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the second you glance down at your own hands, you realize he’s right. Your fingers are still curled into fists, your knuckles white, your whole body tense like you’re bracing for impact.

You swallow hard, embarrassed beyond belief, and Kenny just watches you with that same lazy smirk, like he knows exactly what’s going through your head. Like he knows exactly what to say to make it worse.

“You nervous?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.

“No,” you lie immediately, shifting your weight, refusing to look him in the eye.

Kenny chuckles again, the sound low and knowing, and suddenly, you feel his fingers moving. He doesn’t grab you, doesn’t pull you in, just brushes his thumbs in slow, deliberate circles against your hips, his touch featherlight but firm enough to keep you grounded.

“Yeah?” His voice dips lower, smoother. “Then why are you panting like a fuckin’ dog?”

Your entire body stiffens. “I—I’m not—”

Kenny leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “Babe,” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement. “You’re shakin’, you’re breathin’ all heavy, and you’re lookin’ at me like you don’t know what to do with yourself. What’s wrong?”

You shove him again, harder this time, your face burning. “Shut up.”

He grins, his hands tightening around your waist for just a second before loosening again. “Make me.”

You stare at him, at the cocky smirk on his face, at the way his blue eyes gleam with something sharp and knowing, and for a split second, you actually think about it. Think about shutting him up the only way you know how.

But you���re still nervous. Still shaking. Still trying to wrap your head around the fact that this is even happening.

So instead of kissing him again, instead of throwing yourself at him the way you want to, you just huff, looking away, trying to ignore the way your skin tingles under his touch. “I hate you.”

Kenny laughs, full-bodied and warm, his hands slipping lower, his fingers tracing slow patterns over your hips. “Nah,” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his lips just barely brushing against your jaw. “You love me.”

Your face burns hotter than it ever has before, and you bite your lip hard, forcing yourself to focus on anything—anything—other than Kenny’s stupid, smug face. Your eyes flick to the peeling posters on his wall, ones he’s had since middle school, the corners curled and edges torn from years of being in this shitty house. You trace the details with your gaze, willing your heart to slow the fuck down, but it’s useless.

Because Kenny is still watching you, and you can feel it.

Then, suddenly, his hands grip your waist, and before you can process what’s happening, he pulls you straight into his lap.

A startled noise catches in your throat, your hands flying to his forearms for balance, gripping onto him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. And maybe he is, because your whole body feels like it’s floating, weightless, untethered. Your breath stutters in your chest, pulse hammering against your ribs as you try to not focus on the fact that your legs are now straddling his thighs, your knees digging into the shitty mattress.

Kenny leans in, pressing his lips to the corner of your jaw, and your whole body shivers.

You let out a breathy laugh, tilting your head instinctively as his mouth trails lower, his lips ghosting along the sensitive skin of your neck. He’s not even kissing you properly, just teasing, just brushing his lips against you in that slow, deliberate way that makes heat coil low in your stomach.

"You nervous?" His voice is low, smooth, but there’s amusement laced beneath it. His hands flex against your hips, his thumbs brushing over your skin. “’Cause I wanna date you? Be your boyfriend? Make all that practice official?”

You gasp, half a laugh and half a mortified choke, and shove at his shoulders, but he doesn’t budge. He’s too fucking solid beneath you, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

“Kenny, shut the fuck up,” you whine, your nails digging into his forearms.

He just grins, his breath warm against your throat. "Nah, babe, you shut the fuck up. You’re the one who asked me if I even wanted to be your boyfriend.” He presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss just below your ear, and your stomach flips. “Kinda sounds like you were nervous.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, groaning as you try to ignore the way your entire body is betraying you. “I wasn’t nervous,” you lie.

Kenny laughs, low and husky, his grip tightening just slightly. “Yeah? Then why are you gripping me like you’re about to fucking die?”

You force your hands to relax, your grip loosening against his arms. "I'm not," you mumble, but your voice is weaker now, breathier, and you know he hears it.

His smirk presses into your skin. "Mmhmm."

He shifts beneath you, rolling his hips just slightly, barely a movement at all, but fuck—you feel it. You gasp, fingers clenching against him again, and he grins, like that was exactly the reaction he wanted.

“Bet you’re nervous right now,” he murmurs, his lips trailing back up your jaw. “Bet you’re all shy ‘cause now you know I actually wanna date you.”

You do feel shy, shy in a way that you’ve never felt before with him, shy in a way that feels so fucking stupid, because it’s just Kenny. It’s just your best friend, the same asshole you’ve known since you were kids, the same one who’s seen you at your absolute worst and still stuck around.

But this—this is different.

Because you know he’s right.

You were never nervous when it was just practice. When it was just a way to learn, just a way to catch up, just a way to make sure you didn’t make a fool of yourself when it actually mattered.

But now, it does matter. Now, it’s real.

And the fact that you can’t just pretend otherwise—that you don’t want to pretend otherwise—makes you feel like you’re unraveling.

Kenny pulls back slightly, tilting his head to look at you, his lips still way too close to yours. His blue eyes flicker over your face, taking in every little detail, every little shift in your expression, like he’s reading you as easily as a fucking book.

Then, in a voice so soft, he murmurs, “Hey.”

You swallow thickly, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “…What?”

He smirks, but it’s softer now, gentler. He lifts a hand, brushing his fingers lightly along your jaw, tracing the shape of it like he’s memorizing you. His touch lingers, warm and steady, before finally tilting your chin up.

“Stop fucking overthinking it,” he says. “Just say yes already.”

You stare at him, your heart hammering, your breath shallow. The weight of everything—of this moment, of what it means, of what you want—settles deep in your chest, warm and heavy and so real. Kenny is just watching you, waiting, his fingers still resting against your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek like he’s trying to ground you, to keep you here with him.

You swallow hard, your lips parting, and then finally, you smile. It’s small at first, barely there, just the tiniest curl of your lips, but it grows, spreading across your face like the sun breaking through clouds. And when you finally say it, your voice is quiet, breathless, but sure.

“Yes.”

Kenny laughs, full and real, like that was the only answer he was expecting. Before you can blink, he’s gripping your waist tight and hauling you closer, squeezing you so fucking tight against him that all the air in your lungs gets pushed out in a sharp, surprised oof.

His arms wrap around your back, strong and solid, pressing you down into his lap like he never wants to fucking let you go. His warmth seeps into your skin, his body firm beneath yours, and you let out a breathless giggle as you clutch at his shoulders, your fingers twisting into the fabric of his stupid, slightly worn band tee.

“Fuck, I knew it," he mutters, his face buried against your shoulder, his grip unrelenting. "Knew you couldn’t fucking resist me."

You scoff, rolling your eyes even as you nuzzle into him, feeling the way his body shakes slightly with barely restrained laughter. "Shut up," you mumble, but it has no bite to it.

Kenny just grins against your skin, tightening his arms around you like he’s trying to fuse you to him. "Nah, nah, you shut up, babe. You’re the one who took this long to say yes. I’ve been waiting."

You blink, pulling back slightly so you can look at him properly. "Waiting?"

He smirks, his blue eyes flicking over your face, but there’s something softer beneath it now, something real. "Yeah, waiting. You think I was gonna sit here and not let you figure it out on your own?"

Your stomach flips, your fingers tightening against his tee. "Kenny—"

"Nope. Don’t even start, sweetheart," he interrupts, grinning. "’Cause I knew. Knew since fucking middle school you were it for me. Just had to wait for your dumbass to catch up."

Your breath catches, your entire body locking up. "Middle school?"

He hums, tilting his head, feigning thought. "Mmm, maybe even elementary."

"Kenny—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he says, shaking his head. "Why didn’t I say anything? Blah, blah, blah. ‘Cause I didn’t wanna fuck it up, babe. You were my best friend. And you were so fucking oblivious, it was actually kinda cute."

You gape at him. "Oblivious?"

Kenny chuckles, brushing his nose against yours. "Babe. You made out with me, blew me in my truck, straddled me—"

Your face burns. "It was practice!"

His smirk widens, his hands sliding down to squeeze your hips. "Was it?"

You open your mouth, ready to argue, ready to defend yourself—but then you stop. Because, fuck. Maybe he’s right. Maybe deep down, it wasn’t just practice. Maybe you’d been finding excuses to get close to him, to feel him, to have him.

The realization sends a shudder through your entire body.

Kenny sees it. Feels it. And his smirk softens, turning into something warmer, something deeper. His fingers brush lightly against your waist, and his voice, when he speaks, is softer too. "You wanna know why I let you do all that?"

You hesitate. You swallow. "Why?"

His smirk fades completely, and all that’s left is him, raw and open and fucking real. "’Cause I wanted to be the one you learned with. The one you trusted with all that. Even if it meant waiting. Even if it meant watching you go after someone else. I just—I just wanted to be the first for you. In every way."

Your chest aches.

Your stomach flutters.

Your throat tightens so hard you think you might actually cry.

Because fuck—you believe him. You know he means it.

You don’t even realize you’re moving until your lips crash into his.

It’s desperate, hungry, like something inside you just snapped. Your hands fist into his tee, pulling him closer, deeper, more. Kenny groans against your mouth, his fingers digging into your hips, his entire body burning beneath your touch.

"Fucking finally," he mutters between kisses, grinning even as he tilts his head to deepen it.

You let out a breathless laugh, but it dissolves into a soft moan when his tongue brushes against yours.

His hands slide lower, gripping your thighs, squeezing like he owns you. And maybe he does, because right now, in this moment, you feel like you belong to him completely.

His fingers twitch against your thighs as you shift in his lap, pressing your body flush against his. The heat between you is suffocating, intoxicating, making your skin tingle, making your breath come faster. You tighten your arms around his neck, dragging him impossibly closer, swallowing the soft groan that rumbles from his chest.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, twisting and tugging as you kiss him harder, deeper. You barely recognize yourself in this moment—so desperate, so needy for him—but fuck, you don’t care. Kenny makes a sound low in his throat, his hands tightening on your thighs, his fingertips digging in just enough to make you shiver.

His hair is getting kind of long, you realize, your fingers threading through the messy blond strands. Longer than he usually lets it get, curling slightly at the ends. You like it. You like the way it feels between your fingers, how soft it is despite how rough and careless he is with himself.

Kenny grins into the kiss, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. “You checking out my hair, babe?” His voice is rough, slightly breathless, his hands sliding up your back, warm through your shirt.

You hum, teasingly pulling at a strand between your fingers. “Yeah,” you murmur, dragging your lips along his jaw, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to his skin. “Didn’t know you were growing it out.”

Kenny exhales sharply, tilting his head back just slightly, giving you more room. “Didn’t really mean to,” he admits, his grip on you flexing, like he’s trying to stay still, trying to control himself. “Guess I’ve just been too busy thinking about someone to care.”

Your stomach flips. You pull back just enough to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

His smirk is lazy, his hands sliding down to your hips, gripping, squeezing. “Yeah.” He tilts his head, his blue eyes dark, filled with something that makes your breath catch. “Guess who?”

You roll your eyes, laughing, but it comes out shaky. Because he’s still looking at you like that, still touching you like he’s memorizing the shape of you, like he’s making sure you’re really here.

You shake your head, biting your lip. “You’re so fucking cheesy.”

Kenny grins. “Yeah, but you like it.”

You do. You do like it. And fuck, you like him.

Your heart is pounding, your body burning, and the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the only thing in the world that matters—makes your head spin. You swallow hard, trying to catch your breath, trying to keep yourself grounded, but then Kenny shifts, his hands sliding under your shirt, his rough palms pressing against your bare skin.

You inhale sharply, your eyes fluttering shut, your fingers tightening in his hair.

Kenny stills beneath you, just for a second. His breath is unsteady, his hands flexing against your waist. “That okay?” His voice is lower now, careful.

You nod quickly, breathless. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.”

His smirk twitches, but it’s softer this time. “Good.”

Then he kisses you again, slower now, deeper. His hands move carefully, like he’s savoring every inch of skin he touches, like he’s making up for every second he didn’t have you. His fingers trace along your sides, up your back, sending shivers down your spine.

You whimper softly against his lips, your thighs tightening around him, your whole body aching for more. Kenny groans, his grip on you tightening, his lips parting against yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, breathing hard, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re gonna be the death of me, babe.”

You laugh breathlessly, your fingers sliding down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his tee. “You’ve survived worse,” you tease, brushing your nose against his.

Kenny chuckles, shaking his head. “Not like this.”

You bite your lip, watching him, feeling your heart swell in your chest. You want him. Not just like this—not just pressed against him, not just feeling his hands on your skin—you want all of him. The realization settles deep in your stomach, heavy and warm, making your breath hitch.

Kenny catches it immediately, his smirk curling like he knows exactly what’s running through your head. His hands are still under your shirt, tracing slow, lazy circles along your ribs, like he’s got all the time in the world. Then, without warning, he leans in, pressing his lips to your hair. It’s soft, almost sweet—if not for the fact that he doesn’t stop there.

He kisses your temple. Then your cheek. Then lower, dragging his mouth over your jaw, your pulse, the side of your neck. You let out a breathy giggle, nerves and anticipation tangling together in your chest. He still hasn’t moved his hands, still hasn’t grabbed at you the way you thought he would. He’s just touching, teasing, letting the tension build.

You try to keep yourself steady, to not let the moment get ahead of you, but then Kenny shifts against you, his thumbs brushing right beneath the band of your bra, and your breath stutters. No one’s ever touched you like this before. No one’s ever even seen your tits. And it’s Kenny—Kenny, who’s always been a little pervy, who’s made enough comments about tits to last a lifetime.

But this is different.

His fingers skate higher, tracing the edge of the fabric, his smirk pressing against your skin when he hears your breath hitch. “Nervous?”

You let out another giggle, softer this time, your hands twitching against his shoulders. “Duh.”

Kenny hums like he expected that, his hands not stopping their slow exploration. “Yeah, babe, I figured.”

You roll your eyes, smacking his shoulder. “Shut up.”

His chest shakes with another quiet chuckle, but when he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression is softer. His hands settle against your ribs, warm and steady, like he’s giving you time to process. He’s not pushing, not rushing, just watching you.

“You gonna let me?” he asks, voice lower now, rougher.

Your pulse pounds in your throat.

You nod.

Kenny exhales, the breath warm against your skin, and you feel the steady, pounding rhythm of his heart against your back. It mirrors your own, fast and hard, like neither of you can quite believe this is happening. His forehead drops to your shoulder, his body pressing close, fitting himself against you like he’s always meant to be there.

He mutters something low, too quiet for you to catch, but his lips brush against your skin as he says it, sending a shiver straight down your spine.

Then he raises his head, flashing you that familiar, toothy grin—the one that usually means he’s about to say something absolutely filthy. And he does.

"Y’know, if you wanna keep laughin’, sweetheart, I could give you somethin’ else to put in that pretty mouth.”

Your stomach clenches, your whole body heating up all at once. The little rasp in his voice, the way his accent gets thicker when he talks like this, makes you feel like your brain is short-circuiting. It should be embarrassing—should make you wanna shove him off—but instead, you feel your thighs press together instinctively, your breath catching in your throat.

Kenny doesn’t stop smirking, clearly pleased with himself, but his hands don’t rush. They move slow, deliberate. His fingers slide under the cups of your bra, coaxing the fabric up, but he doesn’t move your shirt yet. He just touches, cups your tits with a careful sort of reverence that you weren’t expecting from him. His palms are warm, rough in a way that makes your skin feel hypersensitive, like every brush of his calloused fingers against you is setting you on fire.

You can’t stop giggling, nerves bubbling up too fast, and it only makes you feel more ridiculous. Your face is burning, your eyes darting everywhere except at him. You stare hard at the posters on his wall—some old band he likes, a tattered pin-up girl, a dumb ripped-out magazine ad for some beer company. Anything to avoid looking at the way he’s watching you.

Kenny chuckles against your neck, his thumbs tracing slow, teasing circles against your skin. “Ain’t gotta be shy, babe. Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

You let out a breathless, half-hysterical laugh, still refusing to meet his eyes. “You have literally never seen my tits before.”

He snorts. “Fair. But I been picturin’ ‘em since we were like fifteen, so I figure that counts.”

You groan, covering your face with both hands. “Kenny.”

He laughs, shaking his head. His grip on you tightens, pulling you even closer, his breath hot against your ear. “What? S’true.” His voice dips lower, sending a full-body shiver down your spine. “Been thinkin’ about this for a long fuckin’ time, babe.”

Your stomach flips, heat pooling between your legs at the sheer honesty in his tone. Your breath is coming faster now, hands slowly lowering from your face as you try to process what he just admitted.

He wanted this.

He’s wanted this.

The realization makes your whole body tense, anticipation curling hot and thick inside you. Your fingers twitch against the rough denim of your jeans, pressing into the seams, trying to ground yourself.

Kenny’s hands are still on your tits, still kneading softly, his touch steady but not pushing. He’s waiting. Letting you adjust, letting you decide what happens next.

You finally tear your gaze from the posters, tilting your head just enough to glance at him over your shoulder. His eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown wide, lips parted slightly as he watches you.

You swallow hard, pulse hammering in your throat.

“…Can I?” he murmurs, fingers curling slightly, testing.

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nod.

Kenny lifts your shirt with a patience you didn’t expect, his fingers grazing your skin in slow, deliberate movements. Your breath stutters, nerves tangling up in your stomach, and you fidget with the cuffs of your sleeves, twisting the fabric between your fingers to keep your hands busy.

The second the air hits your tits, your body reacts—shivering, skin prickling with sensitivity. A quiet giggle bubbles out of you, half nervous, half from the sheer ridiculousness of the moment. Your eyes flick up to the ceiling automatically, desperate for something—anything—to focus on. The glow-in-the-dark stars are still there, scattered unevenly across the paint, some peeling at the edges, clinging on for dear life.

"Didn’t know you were still rockin’ the galaxy decor," you say, your voice a little breathless, a little shaky.

Kenny chuckles, his breath fanning warm against your shoulder. "Yeah, well. Girls love ‘em."

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin, but your amusement is short-lived when his hands move. His palms, broad and warm, slide over your exposed skin, settling over your tits fully. His thumbs skim the peaks, tracing soft circles over your nipples, and the sensation sends a sharp, unexpected jolt straight through your body.

You inhale sharply, your giggle cutting off, your thighs pressing together instinctively.

Kenny notices. Of course, he notices.

His smirk is lazy, his fingers tightening slightly, kneading you with slow, deliberate intent. "Oh yeah," he murmurs, voice dipping into something lower, something rougher. "That’s cute as hell."

Your breath hitches. "Shut up."

"Nah, don’t think I will." His thumbs flick over your nipples again, firmer this time, making your stomach tense. "You’re real sensitive, huh?"

You don’t answer—mostly because you don’t trust your own voice, but also because he already knows the answer.

Kenny laughs quietly, pressing his lips to your shoulder again, his teeth grazing the fabric of your shirt before he speaks. "Guess I should’ve known. You get all squirmy when people tickle you—figured you’d be just as jumpy when someone plays with your tits."

Your face burns, mortification mixing with something else—something heavier, hotter. "Oh my God, Kenny—"

"Relax, babe." His voice is low, teasing, but there’s something real beneath it, something that makes your stomach flip. "I like it."

Your fingers dig into your sleeves, gripping tight. The worst part is that you like it, too. The way he’s touching you, the way he’s looking at you, like he’s been wanting this for a long time—it’s making your head spin, making it hard to remember why you were so nervous in the first place.

His thumbs circle your nipples again, slower this time, more purposeful, like he’s memorizing how you react. Your breath catches, and you shift in his lap, your ass pressing back against him more than you mean to.

Kenny inhales sharply, his hands pausing for just a second before his fingers flex, his grip tightening around you.

"Fuck," he mutters, half under his breath, half into your skin. His hips shift, pressing up—just barely, but enough for you to feel the growing heat between you.

Your stomach clenches. Your thighs squeeze together tighter.

Kenny’s hands don’t stop moving, don’t stop touching, but his voice is quieter when he speaks again, more deliberate.

"You still good?"

You nod before he even finishes the question, your breath shaky, but certain. "Yeah."

His smirk returns, but it’s softer now, tinged with something you can’t quite place.

"Good," he says, and then he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, and your whole body jolts in his lap.

You finally turn your head to look at him, your face scrunching up as heat prickles at your skin. The sensation still lingers—sharp and electric—where his fingers toy with you, and you don’t know if you want to squirm away or lean into it.

Kenny, of course, just grins. That cocky, lazy smirk, the one that says he knows exactly what he’s doing. He looks thoroughly entertained, his eyes hooded and amused as he watches your reaction.

"Aw, what’s wrong, babe?" His voice is dripping with fake innocence, but his fingers don’t stop, still rolling your nipple, flicking his thumb over it just to watch you twitch. "Too much for you? Thought you wanted the full boyfriend experience."

Your stomach tightens, and before you can stop yourself, a laugh bursts out of you, half flustered, half exasperated. "Jesus Christ, Kenny," you groan, swatting at his arm. "You’ve been my boyfriend for, like, four minutes, and you’re already insufferable."

Kenny laughs, leaning in, his lips ghosting over your jaw. "Four minutes?" he repeats, his breath warm against your skin. "Damn, feels longer. Guess time flies when you’re havin’ fun."

You roll your eyes, but your face is burning. "Fun for you, maybe."

Kenny hums, his smirk widening against your skin. His hands move, sliding down from your tits, gliding over your ribs, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. "Oh yeah?" His voice dips lower, smooth and teasing. "You sure about that?"

He suddenly pinches your nipple one last time, sharp and unexpected, and you jolt, a surprised noise escaping your throat before you can bite it down. Your body stiffens, your fingers gripping onto his forearm instinctively.

Kenny lets out a breathy laugh, clearly pleased with himself. "Yeah," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck. "Thought so."

You groan, smacking his arm again, but your grip lingers, your fingers tightening around his wrist like you don’t actually want him to stop. Your body is betraying you, heat curling in your stomach, a slow, steady throb building between your thighs.

Kenny just grins wider, like your frustration is the best part of this for him. His fingers flex against your sides, squeezing lightly, and then—without warning—he shifts his grip and pulls you higher up in his lap. You yelp, grabbing onto his shoulders for balance, but Kenny barely gives you a second to react before he ducks his head, his mouth latching onto your tit.

A sharp gasp catches in your throat. Your hands tighten in his shirt as warmth floods through you, your whole body tensing at the wet heat of his mouth around your nipple. His tongue flicks against it, slow and deliberate, and you feel it all the way down to your stomach, down lower, an ache blooming between your thighs.

You press your face into his hair, your breath stuttering as you try to remember how to form words. "K-Kenny," you manage, but you don’t even know what you’re trying to say.

He hums against your skin, and the vibration sends a shiver down your spine. He sucks lightly, his lips sealing around you, before pulling off with a quiet pop, breath warm as he exhales against the damp skin. His fingers squeeze your hips, steadying you.

"Yeah?" His voice is low, rough, and when he lifts his head to look at you, his lips are slick, his pupils blown wide. He smirks, tilting his head. "Somethin’ you wanna say, babe?"

Your whole body feels like it’s burning, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment or how fucking good it feels. Your nails dig into his shoulders, and you glare down at him, but it doesn’t hold any real heat. "You’re so—"

"—Good at this?" Kenny interrupts, his smirk turning downright smug. "Yeah, I know."

You groan, smacking the back of his head, but you don’t stop him when he moves to your other tit, his mouth latching onto you all over again.

Kenny groans against your skin, the sound vibrating through your chest, making your whole body jolt in his lap. His tongue flicks over your nipple, slow and teasing, before he closes his lips around it again, sucking harder this time. His free hand kneads your other tit, rolling the soft flesh between his fingers, his thumb circling over your already sensitive nipple.

Your breath stutters, tiny, bitten-off moans slipping past your lips before you can stop them. It feels good—too good—like every nerve in your body is tightening, winding up until you’re shaking in his lap. But at the same time, embarrassment prickles under your skin. The way Kenny is touching you, how easily he’s pulling these sounds out of you—it’s overwhelming.

You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your face deeper into his hair, inhaling the scent of his cheap shampoo and the lingering smoke clinging to him. Your fingers grip the fabric of his tee, tugging hard like that’ll ground you, like that’ll stop the dizzy heat spreading through your stomach. But Kenny doesn’t let up.

"Aw, babe," he mutters against your skin, his voice thick with amusement and something deeper. His breath is hot, his lips trailing against the curve of your breast. "You gettin’ shy on me?"

You shake your head quickly, but the way your body trembles in his hands tells another story. Kenny chuckles, low and smug, squeezing your tit in his palm before his mouth moves again, teeth scraping lightly against your nipple just to hear you gasp.

"Shit, you’re cute," he murmurs, rolling his hips up just enough for you to feel the heat of him beneath you. His hands tighten on your waist, keeping you steady. "Makin’ all these pretty little sounds for me. Can’t believe I never got to hear ‘em ‘til now."

Your face burns hotter, and you tug at his shirt in frustration, like that’ll shut him up. "Shut up," you mumble, voice muffled against his hair.

He laughs, sharp and breathless, and nips at your skin in retaliation, sending another shock of heat straight through you. "Nah," he says, grinning against your chest. "Not when you’re bein’ this fuckin’ cute about it."

You groan, curling into him as his mouth moves lower, trailing wet kisses across your skin, each one searing. His hands slide up your back, tracing the dip of your spine, making you shiver.

"Kenny," you whimper, barely above a whisper.

His breath catches.

For the first time since this started, he stills. His grip on you tightens, fingers pressing into your skin, like he’s holding himself back. His forehead drops against your chest, and you feel him exhale, slow and measured.

"Fuck," he mutters, voice rough, strained. "You can’t just say my name like that, babe."

You blink, biting your lip, confused. "Like what?"

Kenny lifts his head, and when you finally meet his gaze, the look in his eyes makes your stomach flip. His pupils are blown wide, his face flushed, his lips wet and slightly swollen. He looks wrecked—like he’s barely keeping himself together.

"Like you want me," he says simply.

Your breath catches in your throat.

Your fingers tighten in his shirt. The air between you feels too thick, too charged. He’s looking at you like he’s waiting, like he’s daring you to say it—to admit it.

Your breath is shaky as you push your hair back, fingers catching in the strands before falling to the sleeves of your shirt. You fidget, tugging at the fabric, trying to ground yourself, trying to focus on anything other than the way Kenny is looking at you. Like he already knew. Like he was just waiting for you to say it.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to breathe, and then—quietly, barely above a whisper—you admit it.

"I do," you say, your voice raw, unsteady. "I want you. I want you so fucking bad."

The words hang between you, and for a split second, everything stops. Kenny's fingers twitch against your skin, his breath catching in his throat. His lips part slightly, like he wants to say something, but whatever was on his tongue dies before he can get it out. His whole body goes still, tense beneath you, his hands flexing against your waist.

And then—he moves.

His grip tightens, and in one quick motion, he’s shifting you, pulling you even closer until your chest is flush against his. His mouth crashes against yours, no hesitation, no teasing—just heat, all-consuming and desperate. He kisses you like he’s been holding back for too long, like the second you said it, something inside him snapped.

You whimper into his mouth, fingers twisting into his shirt, holding on as his hands slide up your back, gripping, pressing, pulling. His tongue flicks against your lips, and you part for him instantly, letting him deepen it, letting him take exactly what he wants.

You’re breathless when he pulls back, and the look in his eyes makes your whole body clench. His pupils are blown wide, his chest rising and falling unevenly, his lips wet and slightly swollen.

"Say it again," he murmurs, voice rough, needy. His hands tighten at your waist, his fingers digging into your skin like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. "Say you want me."

Your heart pounds against your ribs. You’ve never seen him like this before, never seen him lose control, never seen him look at you like he’d set the whole world on fire if you asked him to.

"I want you," you whisper, voice trembling. "Kenny, I—"

He groans, and suddenly, you’re on your back. He moves so fast it leaves you breathless, his body pressing you into the mattress, his mouth hot against your neck, teeth scraping against your pulse. His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding under your shirt, skimming the bare skin of your stomach, pushing you closer, pulling you deeper into him.

Your fingers claw at his back, your legs shifting beneath him, your body already burning from the inside out.

Kenny’s hands grip the waistband of your jeans, fingers pressing into the fabric, warm and just a little unsteady. His breath is hot against your skin, his lips still parted from where he had been kissing you, sucking at your neck like he couldn’t get enough. But now, his mouth is still, and he’s looking at you—really looking at you—his blue wide and dark, a flush creeping high on his cheeks.

And then, he does something you don’t expect.

He begs.

Not with teasing, not with that cocky smirk he usually hides behind, not with some lazy drawl of c’mon, babe, don’t be shy. No, this is different.

“Kinda losin’ my mind over here,” he says, his voice wrecked, ragged, like he’s holding onto the last frayed edge of his control. His fingers flex against your jeans, gripping the fabric tight, and his forehead presses against yours, like he can’t even bear the space between you. “Please.”

Your stomach flips, heat spreading through you so fast it makes you feel lightheaded. You’ve never heard Kenny like this. You’ve seen him flirt, tease, talk his way into people’s pants with nothing but a lazy grin and that effortless charm, but you’ve never heard him plead.

He presses a kiss to your cheek, then another, his lips dragging down to your jaw, your neck. “Let me, baby,” he mutters, voice hoarse, desperate. “Let me make you feel good. Been wantin’—fuck—been wantin’ this for so long, just—” He groans, breath shaky, like he’s physically restraining himself from just taking what he wants. “Tell me I can touch you. Please.”

Your chest is tight, your lungs forgetting how to work properly. He’s trembling a little under your hands, not enough to be obvious, but you can feel it in the way he’s gripping you, in the way he keeps shifting his hips like he can’t sit still.

And the worst part? You love it. You love the way he’s looking at you, love the way his voice sounds when he’s this far gone, love knowing that you—not some random hookup, not some person at a party, you—are the one who got him like this. The one who made Kenny McCormick, smooth-talker, lady-killer, completely lose his mind.

Your fingers brush against the nape of his neck, sliding up into his messy blonde hair, tugging lightly. Kenny groans at the touch, his head tilting back slightly, and you swear you can feel his pulse hammering just beneath his skin.

You smile, just a little. “You’re really begging, huh?”

Kenny lets out a breathy, half-strangled laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, fuck off,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to it. His lips brush against your collarbone, then your throat, and he exhales sharply. “You have no fuckin’ idea what you do to me.”

Your heartbeat stutters.

You know this is just Kenny. Kenny, your best friend since forever. The same Kenny who used to eat entire bags of expired Halloween candy in one sitting, who once got stuck in a tree trying to rescue a cat that didn’t even belong to anyone, who always knew exactly how to make you laugh when you needed it most.

You exhale slowly, fingers still tangled in his hair, your other hand smoothing down his back. He’s so warm, so solid beneath your touch, and you can feel the way his muscles tense when you shift against him.

You bite your lip, considering him, watching the way his breath catches as you trace your fingers lower, down his spine, pressing just slightly at the small of his back.

Then, finally—

“…Okay.”

Kenny stills.

For a second, he just looks at you, eyes dark and searching, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Then, he exhales, long and slow, like all the tension in his body is uncoiling at once.

“Fuck,” he breathes, like he wasn’t sure you’d actually say yes. Like he needed to hear it.

His hands tighten against your waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your jeans now, tracing against the sensitive skin of your hips. He leans in, pressing his lips to your ear, and when he speaks, his voice is low, reverent, almost awed.

“You have no idea how bad I’m gonna make this for you, baby.”

Your whole body shudders, heat slamming into you all at once. The second Kenny's fingers hook around the waistband of your jeans, your breath catches, and you whine—actually whine—lifting your hips to help him shimmy them down. The fabric drags against your thighs, your knees, pooling somewhere near your ankles before he kicks them off the bed entirely.

And then it's just you, in nothing but your panties, laid out beneath him.

Kenny settles between your legs, weight pressing into you in a way that makes your stomach flip, his hands skating up the tops of your thighs, warm and rough and fucking confident. But when his fingers brush the thin lace of your panties, he stops. Doesn't keep going. Doesn't pull them down. Just hovers, playing with the hemline like he's got all the time in the world.

You blink, nerves creeping in now that you're actually here, spread out in front of your best friend like this, half-dressed with his hands teasing the only thing left covering you. Your fingers tighten in his sheets, your eyes darting everywhere—his glow-in-the-dark stars, the pile of laundry in the corner, the goddamn Mysterion poster still tacked to his wall—like any of it is more important than Kenny McCormick breathing against your stomach.

It isn’t.

Kenny sees right through you, of course. He doesn’t move his hands, doesn’t push you, doesn’t rush you, just watches. His blue eyes flick over your face, tracing the way your chest rises too quickly, the way your fingers grip the sheets like you need something to hold onto.

His lips twitch, his smirk lazy, teasing, but softer than usual. “You ignoring me, babe?” His voice is low, smooth, edged with amusement but still careful. “Kinda rude, y’know, considering I’m about to have my face between your legs.”

Your breath stumbles in your chest. “Jesus Christ, Kenny.”

He grins, a little more like himself now, but he still doesn’t move. Doesn’t do anything except keep his hands where they are, fingers playing with your waistband like he’s waiting for something.

That’s when you realize—he is.

You swallow thickly, forcing your eyes back to him. “I’m not ignoring you,” you murmur, voice smaller than you mean for it to be.

Kenny raises an eyebrow, like he doesn’t quite believe you. His thumbs stroke over your hip bones, slow, lazy little circles, and even though the touch is innocent, it makes your pulse trip over itself.

“Uh-huh,” he hums. “And yet, you look like you’re real interested in my ceiling instead of me.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands for half a second before dragging them down, your whole body burning. “It’s not that, I just—”

You stop. Exhale. Look at him, really look at him, at the way he’s just watching you, at the way he’s waiting, his mouth slightly parted like he’s holding himself back.

It clicks.

Oh. He’s giving you an out.

Kenny fucking McCormick, the guy who spends half his time running his mouth about tits and ass, the guy who has no problem making the filthiest jokes at the worst moments, is actually holding back for you.

Your best friend is between your legs, waiting for your permission to touch you.

And you want it.

Your throat feels dry, nerves tangling with the raw, aching want that’s been building up for what feels like hours. “Kenny.” You barely recognize your own voice, the way it dips, the way it wavers just slightly.

His eyes snap to yours immediately, sharp, focused.

You wet your lips. “You can keep going.”

Something shifts in his face, something hot and pleased and maybe even relieved. His smirk deepens, his fingers pressing into your hips just slightly, just enough for you to feel it.

“Yeah?” His voice is still teasing, but there’s an edge to it now, something heavier, something darker. “You sure?”

You nod, breath catching. “I want it.”

Kenny inhales sharply through his nose, and you feel the way his fingers twitch against you, the way his body tenses for half a second before he exhales, shaking his head like he can’t fucking believe this is happening.

“Fuck,” he mutters, dragging his hands up your sides, fingers skimming your ribs before sliding back down, settling at your hips again. “You have no fuckin’ idea how long I wanted to hear you say that.”

Kenny hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, and this time, he doesn’t tease, doesn’t stall. He drags them down, slow enough that the air against your newly exposed skin sends a shiver up your spine, but firm enough that you know he’s done waiting. The fabric catches for half a second on the curve of your ass before sliding down your thighs, past your knees, stopping at your ankles.

You don’t dare look at him. Heat burns up the back of your neck, flooding your cheeks, and your whole body feels too tight, too aware of the fact that Kenny fucking McCormick is sitting between your legs, staring right at the part of you no one’s ever seen before.

Your fingers twitch against the sheets. Your thighs press together on instinct, but Kenny’s hands are still there, still holding you open, still keeping you right where he wants you.

The silence stretches. Too long. Too heavy.

You shift, fidgeting, your hips tilting slightly on the bed, and that seems to unfreeze him.

Kenny exhales sharply through his nose, somewhere between a groan and a laugh, his fingers flexing against your skin. And then—because of course he fucking does—his mouth runs off again.

“Holy shit.” His voice is rough, low, like something just knocked the wind out of him. “You’re—fuck, babe.” He drags a hand down his face like he’s trying to compose himself, but when he looks back at you, his smirk is back in full force, lazy and dripping with something else, something darker. “Y’know, I always thought if I ever got between your legs, I’d have a lot to say. But I think you just made me forget every word I ever fuckin’ learned.”

Your stomach clenches. Your face burns hotter.

“Kenny.” You say his name like a warning, but your voice is shaking too much for it to sound threatening.

“Nah, I mean it.” He groans, head tilting back for half a second before dropping forward again, his eyes glued to you. “Jesus Christ, you’re fuckin’ perfect.”

Your thighs twitch. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself not to let the nerves get the better of you.

He notices. Of course he does.

His hands press into your thighs, thumbs stroking slow circles into the soft skin. “Hey.” His voice drops, still warm, still teasing, but there’s something else there now—something softer, something careful. “You good?”

You force yourself to open your eyes. He’s watching you closely, waiting, his smirk still there but smaller now, more relaxed. Not pushing. Not rushing. You exhale, trying to settle the wild hammering of your pulse.

“I’m good,” you murmur. “Just… no one’s ever—”

Kenny’s expression flickers, something unreadable passing through it before he grins again, this time slower, more deliberate. “Yeah?” He tilts his head, his eyes flickering with something that makes your stomach flip. “No one’s ever eaten you out before?”

You cover your face with your hands. “Oh my God, Kenny.”

He laughs, full and warm, and you feel his breath against your inner thigh as he leans in, presses a soft, teasing kiss there. “Babe, I was askin’ for confirmation, not shame.”

You groan, dragging your hands down just enough to peek at him through your fingers. His smirk deepens, and he squeezes your thighs lightly, spreading you just a little wider.

“Well, shit.” His voice is smooth, lazy, but there’s something real behind it. “Guess that means I get to be your first for this, too.”

His fingers dig in, just enough for you to feel it, and then—his mouth lowers.

His fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you spread open for him, and then—his mouth lowers.

Soft, teasing kisses press against your inner thigh, light as air, barely-there brushes of his lips that make your skin break out in goosebumps. He trails lower, slow and deliberate, his breath warm against you, taking his fucking time because he knows it’s driving you crazy.

Then, finally, he kisses you right where you’re burning the most.

The jolt that shoots through you is immediate, electric. Your hips twitch like they’re trying to escape on instinct, but Kenny just chuckles, low and amused, tightening his grip to keep you still. His hands flex against your skin, thumbs pressing slow, grounding circles into the dip of your hips, but it does nothing to stop the way your whole body is tensing up.

You whine, the sound half-muffled, half-strangled, your thighs trembling in his grip.

And Kenny fucking smiles against you.

Like he’s enjoying this. Like he’s enjoying you.

Your heart slams against your ribs, your breath catching in your throat. You can’t look at him, can’t even bring yourself to glance down, because if you do—if you see his head between your legs, his mouth on you—you might actually die.

So you slap a hand over your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut.

Kenny notices immediately.

“Oh, nah.” His voice is muffled against your skin, but you can still hear the smirk in it. “What’s that about?”

You shake your head frantically, pressing your palm harder against your lips.

He laughs again, the vibration of it sending a shiver through you, and then—he licks a slow, teasing stripe over you, like he’s testing. Like he’s waiting for you to break.

You do.

Your muffled moan slips out against your hand, and you swear you can feel the way Kenny grins.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against you, his breath warm. “That’s what I thought.”

His hands slide up, dragging over your waist, your stomach, fingertips skimming over your ribs before pressing back down, keeping you pinned. His thumbs stroke over your skin in lazy circles, like he’s trying to soothe you, but his mouth is doing the exact fucking opposite.

He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t go in too fast. He just explores, teasing you open, slow and deliberate, his tongue dipping between you just enough to make you shudder. His mouth is warm, soft, wet, and every careful press of his lips has a purpose, every stroke of his tongue designed to pull more sounds out of you.

And you are making sounds.

You’re trying not to, biting down on your knuckle now, but it’s useless. Kenny makes a pleased noise at that—low and cocky—and you barely have a second to register it before he does something with his tongue that makes your whole body jolt.

You gasp, thighs twitching, back arching slightly against the mattress.

Kenny groans, his grip tightening, and then he presses in deeper.

Your fingers scramble against the sheets, gripping at nothing, your brain fogging over completely. It’s too much and not enough, your body burning, heat pooling between your legs, twisting tighter and tighter.

Kenny pulls back slightly, just enough to murmur against you. “Babe, I swear to God, if you don’t move that fuckin’ hand, I’m gonna make you scream my name.”

Your stomach clenches, another whimper slipping out before you can stop it.

His smirk is audible. “That’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

You whine his name, the sound slipping out before you can stop it, high-pitched and desperate. Mortification floods through you immediately, heat crawling up your face, but Kenny?

Kenny fucking loves it.

“Oh, babe,” he drawls, low and lazy, like he’s savoring the sound, like it’s his favorite thing in the world. “That’s cute as shit.”

You groan, turning your head to the side, pressing your cheek into the mattress like you can escape the sheer humiliation burning in your chest. But Kenny isn’t having that.

“Uh-uh,” he murmurs, mouth still moving against you, still pressing slow, teasing kisses against your heat. “Say it again.”

You shake your head frantically, thighs twitching in his grip. “No.”

He laughs—breathy, smug, completely unbothered. “Yeah? We’ll see.”

Then, without warning, you feel it—his fingers, warm and calloused, pressing against your entrance. Just a nudge at first, just testing, just enough to make you gasp and squirm.

Kenny hums like he’s considering something. “Oh, yeah,” he mutters. “This is gonna be fun.”

Your stomach clenches, your whole body locking up as you try to process how the fuck this is actually happening. His finger presses in just barely, not even an inch, just enough for you to feel the stretch, the way your body immediately reacts, the heat that spreads through your thighs like wildfire.

You moan—loud and sharp—and Kenny groans like the sound alone is enough to drive him crazy.

“There she is,” he breathes, his voice rough, strained, like he’s barely holding himself together. His free hand tightens around your thigh, grounding himself, pressing bruises into your skin. 

He pushes in a little further, slow and careful, and your breath catches in your throat. It’s not just the stretch—it’s the way his mouth is still on you, the way he’s still licking into you like he’s starving, the way his fingers move in sync with his tongue, pushing, teasing, coaxing you open.

“K-Kenny,” you choke out, your hands gripping at the sheets, your whole body on fire.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his breath hot against your skin. “Yeah, keep sayin’ my name like that.”

You shake your head, trying to bury your face into the mattress again, but Kenny pulls back slightly, just enough to catch your gaze.

“Look at me,” he says, his voice low, demanding, but there’s something else there, something almost pleading. “C’mon, baby, lemme see you.”

Your breath stutters. Slowly, hesitantly, you turn your head, your lashes fluttering as you meet his gaze.

His pupils are blown wide, his lips slick, his breath coming in short, shallow pants. His jaw is clenched tight like he’s barely holding himself together, like he’s fighting to keep control, but his fingers? His fingers are still moving, still pushing into you, still coaxing those sounds out of you like he lives for them.

His smirk is gone. There’s no teasing left in his expression. Just heat. Just hunger. Just Kenny, looking at you like he’s never wanted anything more in his life.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he mutters, his voice rough, almost disbelieving. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

His fingers don’t stop. They keep moving, curling up just right inside you, pressing against that spot that makes your legs jerk, makes your stomach coil tight. His thumb circles your clit, slow and teasing at first, but when you whimper—when you moan his name all pretty like that—he starts rubbing faster, more deliberate, like he’s committing every little reaction to memory.

Your thighs twitch against his shoulders. Your fingers claw uselessly at the sheets, your breath stuttering with every flick of his wrist, every wet, obscene sound coming from between your legs. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

Kenny groans low in his throat when he feels your walls squeeze around his fingers, the sound muffled between your legs, and the vibration makes your hips buck against his mouth. He’s grinning, you know he is, because when you finally risk a glance down, his blue eyes are locked onto you, dark and hungry, like he’s starving for you.

Your face burns. You slap both hands over your mouth.

Kenny’s free hand moves, gripping your wrist, yanking your hands away from your face. His chin is slick, his lips glistening, and when he smirks up at you, you almost feel lightheaded.

"Nuh-uh, babe. I wanna hear you.”

You whimper, squirming against the sheets. “Kenny—”

He rewards you with another curl of his fingers, pressing against that spot so perfectly it makes your whole body jerk. Your back arches, your lips parting in a silent moan, and that’s all the proof he needs that he’s got you exactly where he wants you.

His mouth is on you again, tongue dragging over your clit, slow and firm, sending hot pulses of pleasure through your core. His fingers thrust in and out, faster now, wetter, each movement accompanied by filthy, wet sounds that make your skin feel like it’s burning. Your thighs are shaking, and Kenny just hums like he’s proud of himself.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he mutters against you, his breath warm, teasing. “Gonna make such a mess, babe.”

Your fingers bury into his hair, tugging hard. Kenny groans into you, like he fucking loves it, and then he’s sucking on your clit, flicking it with his tongue while his fingers keep fucking into you, and it’s—

It’s too much.

Your whole body tenses, heat curling in your gut, tight and overwhelming. Every muscle in your body locks up as you gasp, as your head tilts back, as your vision goes white-hot with pleasure.

“Oh—oh my God, Kenny—”

He moans against you, sloppy and desperate now, fingers moving faster, tongue pressing harder, dragging you through it, keeping you there, making sure you don’t slip away from him just yet. You convulse against the sheets, legs twitching, hands gripping his hair so tight it must hurt, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t slow down, not even when you whimper and try to push at his shoulders.

You sob out his name, thighs squeezing around his head, and finally—finally—his movements slow. His fingers ease out of you, his tongue drags over you one last time, and then he presses a final, lazy kiss to your inner thigh before pulling back.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your whole body trembling, your skin burning. Kenny sits back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his smirk lazy and satisfied. His eyes flick up to you, taking in the wrecked state you’re in, and he whistles low.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, voice rough, breath uneven. “Didn’t know you could cum that hard, babe.”

You groan, tossing an arm over your face, mortified. “Shut the fuck up.”

Kenny just laughs, but doesn’t move away. He shifts, pressing his palms into the mattress on either side of you, caging you in beneath him. His body is warm, solid, still a little tense, like he’s holding back just enough to keep himself from fully sinking into you. His breath is heavy, rolling over your flushed skin as he watches you, eyes hooded and dark.

Satisfaction, definitely—he’s fucking proud of himself, no doubt about that. His pupils are blown, his jaw tight, his smirk a little slower, lazier, like he’s savoring every second of looking at you like this.

And then—he dips his head down and kisses you.

It’s not rushed, not desperate, but it’s deep, lingering, his lips moving against yours like he’s claiming you, like he wants to make sure you remember exactly what just happened. His tongue flicks against your bottom lip, and you open up for him without thinking, letting him taste you, letting him steal whatever breath you have left.

You can taste yourself on him, warm and heady, and your face burns at the realization. You let out a soft, helpless noise against his mouth, and Kenny groans, pressing himself closer, his weight settling just enough to remind you that he’s still hard, that he still needs you just as much as you needed him.

His hands move—one dragging down your side, fingers tracing your waist like he’s memorizing the shape of you, the other cupping your jaw, tilting your face up so he can kiss you deeper. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t force it, but he makes sure you feel him, makes sure you know exactly how much he’s still holding back.

When he finally pulls away, he lingers, his lips brushing against yours like he doesn’t want to break the contact. His eyes flicker over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your chest still rises and falls unevenly beneath him. His breathing is just as ragged as yours now, his smirk faded into something softer.

Kenny tilts his head slightly, dragging his thumb across your cheek, his touch warm and careful, like he’s not quite ready to let go of you yet. His voice is lower now, rougher, like the words are catching in his throat.

“Fuck, babe,” he murmurs, his eyes locked onto yours, full of adoration. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.”

You smile up at him, warmth swelling in your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you tease, “You’re prettier.”

Kenny scoffs, smirking down at you like you just said the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. “Yeah, alright.” His fingers trace along your waist, slow and absentminded, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, like he just needs to be touching you. His breath is steady, but you can feel the way his chest rises and falls a little heavier now, like he’s holding back something.

Your hands slide over his stomach, feeling the heat of his skin beneath his tee, and that’s when it hits you—he’s still fully dressed. Meanwhile, you’re here, completely bare under him, skin exposed to the cool air. Your lips part, a quiet huff of realization leaving you as your fingers bunch into the fabric of his shirt.

“Not fair,” you mutter, tugging at the material. “Why are you still wearing this?”

Kenny raises an eyebrow, a teasing lilt creeping back into his voice. “What, you wanna see me naked that bad?”

You groan, tilting your head back against the pillow. “Kenny.”

He chuckles, shaking his head, but he doesn’t argue. He leans back onto his knees, pulling his tee up and over his head in one fluid motion. The dim glow from the window shadows over his chest, the faint lines of definition visible even in the low light. A scar you’ve never noticed before runs just under his ribs—faint, but there. You don’t even realize you’re staring until Kenny tosses his shirt aside and runs a hand through his messy hair, shaking it out.

“You gonna help me with these, or you just gonna admire me all night?” His voice is lazy, but there’s something else beneath it—something heavier, something real.

You roll your eyes to cover up the way your throat suddenly feels tight. “Cocky asshole.”

Still, you move, reaching down to undo his belt, fumbling with the buckle before finally tugging it loose. Kenny shifts his hips up slightly to make it easier for you, his breath hitching when your knuckles brush against his stomach. The muscles there twitch, just barely, and the sight of it sends a sharp, unexpected jolt of heat through you.

He exhales, low and steady. “Didn’t think you’d be this eager, babe.”

You glance up at him through your lashes, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his jeans, your voice quiet but certain. “Shut up and let me take them off.”

Kenny just hums, low and lazy, like he’s enjoying this way too much, but for once, he doesn’t throw in another teasing remark. He watches you, his blue eyes dark and steady, gaze flickering between your face and your hands as you grip the waistband of his jeans. Your fingers tremble slightly, but you don’t stop. You push the denim down, the fabric rough against your palms as you ease it over his hips. His boxers catch slightly on the way down, stretching for a moment before slipping lower, and you swallow hard, refusing to break eye contact even as your face burns.

The heat spreading through your chest is impossible to ignore, your breath uneven as you take him in—his skin flushed, muscles tight with restraint, the way his jaw clenches for just a second when the cool air hits him. He looks so effortlessly good like this, sprawled out beneath you, half-dressed, his hair still a mess from where your fingers tugged at it.

Your breath hitches when his hands move, sliding up the backs of your thighs, not rushing, just touching, just feeling. His thumbs rub slow circles into your skin, grounding you, a silent reassurance without a single word. His lips part like he wants to say something, but he just exhales instead, eyes scanning your face, searching for hesitation.

You press your palms against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers, the steady rise and fall of his breathing. You take in everything—the way his pupils are blown wide, the faintest pink dusting his cheeks, the way his lips are slightly swollen from kissing you so hard earlier. He looks so good like this, so effortlessly wrecked already, and it sends another wave of warmth flooding through your stomach.

You wet your lips, dragging your fingers down from his chest, over his ribs, feeling every little shift of muscle beneath his skin. When your hands settle at his hips, your thumbs pressing lightly into the sharp cut of bone there, Kenny makes a noise—low and rough, the sound barely escaping his throat.

You shudder, feeling the weight of his gaze on you as you shift lower, positioning yourself between his legs. The anticipation sits heavy in your stomach, thick and all-consuming. You feel his fingers slide into your hair, not guiding, just resting, his touch warm against your scalp.

The moment stretches between you, thick with tension, the only sound is the quiet rhythm of your breaths. You glance up at him again, lips parted, voice barely above a whisper.

“Show me what you like.”

Kenny grins, slow and wicked, his fingers tightening just slightly in your hair. His blue eyes gleam with something dangerous—something smug, something completely self-indulgent. You can already tell he’s going to drag this out, going to make you squirm just because he can.

“Oh, babe,” he drawls, voice thick with amusement, “you really want me to spell it out for you?” His thumb strokes along your scalp, deceptively gentle. “You want me to tell you how I like your pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock? How good it felt when you were takin’ me earlier, all eager, like you couldn’t get enough?”

Your stomach flips so violently it makes you dizzy. Heat slams into you like a freight train, settling hot and heavy in your chest, your throat, your cheeks. You blink up at him, utterly mortified, mouth parting uselessly as your fingers flex against his hips. Your entire body feels too warm, too aware of every inch of him under your hands, against your skin.

He sees it—sees the way your breath stutters, the way your lashes flutter, the way your thighs twitch slightly where you kneel. And of course, being the absolute menace that he is, Kenny doesn’t let it go unnoticed. He chuckles, breathless and low, his smirk twitching wider.

“Aww, c’mon, don’t get shy on me now,” he teases, voice dipping, rough around the edges. “You wanted me to talk you through it, right? Thought you liked it when I told you how good you were doin’.”

You groan, slapping a hand over your face for half a second before dragging it down, fingers pressing into your flushed cheeks. “Jesus Christ, Kenny,” you mutter, voice tight, and he just laughs, the sound vibrating deep in his chest.

He shifts slightly, sitting up a bit more, leaning into you, his breath hot against the top of your head. His fingers thread deeper into your hair, a subtle but deliberate motion, his thumb brushing along the side of your jaw. His smirk softens, just a little, just enough that it feels a little less like he’s playing with you and more like he’s… waiting.

“You gonna do it or not?” he murmurs, and despite his usual cocky drawl, there’s something else underneath it. Something quieter. 

Your throat works as you swallow, fingers tightening at his hips, your heart hammering so hard it echoes in your ears. You inhale, slow and steady, forcing yourself to push past the nerves, past the mortification. Because you want this. You do. And Kenny, for all his relentless teasing, is being patient. Letting you set the pace.

You exhale sharply, glaring up at him, though the heat in your face ruins the effect. “You’re the worst.”

Kenny just grins wider, completely unbothered. “Yeah, yeah, now quit stallin’, babe.”

You roll your eyes but let your hands move again, sliding lower, gripping him properly, feeling the way his body reacts under your touch. Kenny’s breath hitches, just barely, but you catch it. His smirk falters for half a second before he schools his expression, tilting his head as he watches you through half-lidded eyes.

You lick your lips, steadying yourself, your fingers curling around him as you squeeze experimentally. His abs twitch, his jaw flexing as his breath stutters again. You glance up at him once more, holding his gaze, and despite everything, despite how much he’s been running his mouth, you can tell—he’s waiting.

You hum softly, giving him one last lingering look before leaning in.

You close the distance, pressing your lips to his skin, feeling the warmth of him against your mouth. His body tenses under your hands, his fingers twitching where they rest against your scalp. The shift in his breathing is instant—what was once steady and measured now comes in short, uneven exhales, his chest rising and falling faster. You feel the way his muscles tighten beneath your touch, the way his thighs flex under your hands as you settle more comfortably between them.

The heat of him is overwhelming. You’re hyperaware of everything—the weight of him in your palm, the slight pulse against your fingers, the way he’s holding himself completely still, like he’s waiting for you to take the lead. You inhale slowly, steadying yourself, your breath ghosting over his skin. Kenny hisses through his teeth, his grip tightening in your hair for half a second before relaxing again.

You press another kiss to his length, slower this time, letting your lips linger just to see how he reacts. His fingers flex at your scalp, a quiet curse slipping past his lips, and something about that—about knowing that you’re the one pulling these sounds from him—sends a shiver down your spine.

“Goddamn,” he breathes, his voice raw. “Startin’ to think you like this more than I do.”

You roll your eyes, your lips curling into a smirk. “Maybe I just like seeing you like this.”

Kenny exhales a laugh, but it’s shaky, strained, his whole body tight with restraint. “Yeah?” His head tips back slightly, his fingers twitching in your hair. “Fuckin’ hell, babe. Didn’t take you for a goddamn tease.”

You hum softly, letting the vibration pass through him before parting your lips, your tongue slipping out to taste him. The salt of his skin, the faint heat of him—it’s familiar now, yet still so foreign. Your pulse jumps at the weight of him on your tongue, and your eyes flicker up, searching his face.

His expression has gone tight, his jaw locked, his eyes dark as they stare down at you. His grip in your hair tightens just slightly, like he’s holding back, like he wants to guide you but is forcing himself to let you figure it out on your own.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice strained, rougher than before.

You smile against him, letting his reaction spur you on. You take him in further, your lips stretching around him, your tongue pressing flat against the underside of his length. Kenny curses again, his head tipping back slightly, his breath leaving him in a sharp exhale. His thighs tense beneath your hands, his fingers digging into your scalp, and you can tell—he’s already losing his composure.

It makes you bold. You hollow your cheeks, sucking lightly as you bob your head, working to find a rhythm, letting him guide you with the subtle shifts of his body. His hips twitch, barely restrained, his breath coming heavier now, more labored.

“Shit—” Kenny groans, his voice wrecked, his usual teasing nowhere to be found. His other hand comes up, brushing his knuckles against your cheek before settling at the nape of your neck, his grip warm, firm, but not forceful. “You—fuck, babe—”

You hum again, letting the vibrations drag another strangled moan from him. His breathing grows heavier, his grip in your hair tightening as his hips stutter slightly, a barely restrained thrust. “Jesus fuck,” he mutters, his voice tight, strained. “You’re—fuck, you’re doin’ so good.”

The praise sends warmth pooling low in your stomach, your pulse kicking up as you double down, taking him deeper, working him faster. Kenny groans, his head falling back, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. His thighs tremble under your hands, his body coiled tight, strung out.

You can feel it, the way he’s tensing, the way his grip tightens almost painfully in your hair, his breathing ragged, uneven. He’s close. And knowing that, feeling that, makes you want to push him over the edge, to hear what he sounds like when he finally lets go.

You suck harder, your tongue swirling around him, your pace never faltering. Kenny curses, his whole body tensing, and then—he breaks. His hips jerk, his breath catching in his throat, his fingers clenching at your scalp as he spills into your mouth with a groan so wrecked it sends a shiver straight through you.

He slumps back against the mattress, chest heaving, body spent, fingers slackening in your hair. You stay still for a moment, letting him ride it out, his pulse thudding beneath your fingertips. When he finally exhales, long and slow, he cracks an exhausted, lazy grin, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “You tryna kill me?”

You huff a quiet laugh, your own breath a little unsteady as you pull back, licking your lips. You swallow, tilting your head slightly in consideration. You’re still not sure how you feel about the taste, but it’s not the worst thing in the world.

Kenny notices. His grin widens as he takes in your expression. “Shit,” he chuckles, still breathless, “look at you, sittin’ there all cute, thinkin’ about my cum like it’s a fuckin’ fine wine tasting.”

Your nose scrunches immediately. “Oh my god, Kenny.”

He laughs, stretching his arms over his head, looking way too pleased with himself. “What? Just sayin’, if I knew you’d be this into it, I woulda let you blow me years ago.”

You smack his thigh, making him yelp dramatically. “Gross. You say that like I’ve been waiting for the opportunity.”

Kenny smirks, tilting his head. “Haven’t you?”

Your jaw drops. “You’re disgusting.”

“And yet,” he drawls, lazy and smug, “you still got on your knees for me.”

Heat floods your face, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. You roll your eyes, shifting to sit more comfortably, smoothing your hands over your thighs. “Well, yeah. I was being nice.”

Kenny scoffs, sitting up slightly. “Nice, huh?” His smirk deepens. “Damn, babe, that was the most generous fuckin’ favor I ever got.”

You groan, shoving at his shoulder. “You’re welcome, jackass.”

Kenny just grins, still looking at you in that way that makes your stomach twist, something softer lingering behind the teasing. For a second, it almost feels like he might say something else. Something that isn’t a joke.

But instead, he stretches out on the bed like he doesn’t have a care in the world, flashing you a lazy grin. “So,” he muses, tilting his head, “we doin’ a pop quiz next time, or what?”

You narrow your eyes, fighting the urge to laugh. “You’re about to get a pop quiz upside the head.”

Kenny barks out a laugh, head tipping back. “Oh, fuck, babe—romance ain’t dead after all.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, shifting to crawl back into his lap. His cock is still half-hard, pressing up against your bare thighs, a solid, heated weight between you. The air feels thick, charged, the lingering warmth of everything that just happened still humming under your skin.

“Seriously, though,” you murmur, settling against him, the bare skin of your legs brushing his jeans where they’re still pushed low on his hips. “Eat more pineapple.”

Kenny’s hands find your waist easily, like they belong there, like they never want to leave. His fingers flex against your skin, his grip just firm enough to make your breath hitch. “The hell kinda review is that?” He tilts his head, flashing you that familiar shit-eating smirk. “You tryna meal-prep my cum or somethin’?”

Your face burns instantly. “Oh my god, shut up.”

His laughter rumbles against your chest, warm and easy. His thumbs drag slow circles against your hips, soothing, steady. Despite the way he’s still talking shit, there’s something softer in his touch, something grounding about the way he holds you there, bare and warm in his lap like this is exactly where he wants you.

You cup his face, brushing your thumbs against the stubble along his jaw. He’s still got that lazy, lopsided grin, but his eyes are watching you carefully, like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do. Like he’s willing to follow your lead.

You don’t think about it.

You kiss him.

His lips part under yours immediately, a low sound slipping from the back of his throat. His grip tightens on your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make heat coil in your stomach. He kisses you deeper, slower this time—not teasing, not rushed, just sinking into it. His mouth moves against yours like he’s savoring it, like he’s taking his time memorizing the way you taste.

Your fingers slip into his hair, tugging lightly, and he groans into your mouth, his hips shifting beneath you. His cock presses against you, hot and heavy, and you shudder, gasping softly against his lips.

Kenny exhales sharply, breaking away just enough to press his forehead against yours. His breath is warm, uneven, and his thumbs keep moving, slow and deliberate against your skin. His voice comes out rough, husky. “You tryna start somethin’ again?”

Your pulse kicks up, heat curling low in your stomach. You still don’t know where the line is—if there even is one anymore—but you do know one thing.

You don’t want to move away from him.

Your fingers tighten in his hair. “I don’t know,” you whisper, voice barely above a breath. “Are you?”

Kenny’s smirk flickers back into place, lazy and sharp. His grip on you tightens, his hips shifting up just enough for you to feel the thick press of him against you, no layers left between you now.

“You already fuckin’ know the answer to that, babe.”

You giggle nervously, hands gripping the sheets, heat crawling up your neck. You don’t dare look at him, too overwhelmed by how solid he feels between your thighs, how steady his hands are on your hips—like he’s keeping you grounded when your head is spinning.

Kenny watches you closely. He knows you too well, knows every little nervous tic, every way you try to hide when you’re overwhelmed. His fingers flex against your skin, rough and warm, not pushing, just holding.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice softer now, the teasing edge gone. “You good?”

You swallow hard, nodding once, but Kenny doesn’t buy it. His thumbs drag slow, lazy circles over your hips, a silent reassurance.

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m not,” you mutter, but your voice wavers, your breath catching when his grip tightens just slightly.

Kenny exhales through his nose, amused but careful. “Bullshit.”

You shift under him, chewing the inside of your cheek. You don’t even know why you’re nervous—not really. You and Kenny have done plenty already. You’ve kissed him, let him touch you, let him guide you through things you never thought you’d do. You’ve had him in your mouth, had his hands all over you, had your lips wrapped around his in ways that weren’t exactly innocent.

His smirk twitches at the corner, but it’s not mocking. It’s knowing. He leans in, pressing a lazy kiss to your jaw, then lower, nipping just enough to make you gasp. “You think I don’t know the difference between you faking confidence and actually having it?” His voice is low, teasing, but gentle. “I’ve had your mouth on me, and you were still shy about it. You really think I don’t know when you’re nervous?”

Your stomach flips, face burning. “Jesus Christ, Kenny.”

He laughs, a warm rumble against your throat, but his hands stay where they are, thumbs brushing slow, steady circles into your hips. “Nothing wrong with being nervous.” He exhales, dipping his head lower, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, then lower still. “Just want to make sure you want this.”

You do. You really do.

You exhale shakily, your fingers tightening in the sheets. “I do,” you whisper, and it’s embarrassing how breathless you sound, how wrecked you already feel before he’s even done anything.

Kenny groans softly, his breath hot against your skin. “Then let me make it good for you.”

You smile weakly at him and press a quick, soft kiss to his jaw. His stubble scrapes lightly against your lips, grounding you for just a second, but the nervous energy buzzing under your skin won’t settle. Your fingers twitch, fidgeting with the cuffs of your long-sleeve shirt, still bunched awkwardly around your neck, your tits spilling from your bra. The fabric feels like it doesn’t belong anymore, clinging in all the wrong places, but you don’t know whether to tug it off or leave it.

Kenny watches you carefully, his hands still resting on your hips, fingers twitching slightly. He’s waiting for you to move first. His eyes flick over your face, your bare skin, the way your chest rises and falls in uneven breaths. He’s letting you take control, as much as he clearly wants to take it from you.

You shift off his lap, moving onto the pillows, your back pressing against the mattress. The sheets are warm beneath you, carrying the lingering heat of your own body, but they do nothing to stop the way you feel completely exposed now. You inhale slowly, staring up at the ceiling, at the glow-in-the-dark stars scattered unevenly across the paint. Some are peeling, barely clinging on, tiny faded flecks against a dark canvas. You used to trace them with your fingers as a kid, lying here beside Kenny after long nights of sneaking around South Park, talking about everything and nothing. It was easier then. It wasn’t like this.

Your fingers twist into the sheets, your stomach coiling tight, and then—quietly, barely above a whisper—you ask, “Do you have a condom?”

For a second, he doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe, like he wasn’t expecting you to say it out loud. Then, he exhales, a long, slow breath, and when you finally force yourself to glance at him, his eyes lock onto yours. They’re darker now, heavier, the teasing glint in them replaced by something deeper—focus, intensity, maybe even something close to disbelief. Not that he doesn’t want this. Not that he doesn’t need this. But like he’s waiting for you to change your mind.

“Yeah,” he says after a beat, his voice rough, lower than before. “Yeah, I got one.”

You nod, swallowing thickly, your pulse thudding against your ribs.

Kenny doesn’t move right away, doesn’t go reaching for his jeans or scrambling for his wallet. Instead, he shifts onto his elbows, hovering over you, pressing his weight into the mattress beside you. His fingers brush your cheek, slow and deliberate, tilting your face toward him.

“You sure?” His voice is quieter now, steady, his breath fanning against your lips. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you cut in quickly, your own voice shaky but firm. Your hands find his shoulders, your fingers curling against the bare skin, feeling the warmth beneath your palms. “I just…” You pause, your throat tightening, and then force yourself to meet his gaze. “I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

Kenny blinks. Then—he smiles. Not a smirk, not a teasing grin, but something softer. Something real.

“That’s okay,” he murmurs, thumb stroking lightly over your cheekbone. “I do.”

Heat floods your chest, spreading up your neck, wrapping around your ribs, making it feel hard to breathe. Kenny leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead before shifting back, reaching toward his discarded jeans. You watch as he digs into his wallet, pulling out a condom, rolling it between his fingers before tossing the wallet aside.

He glances at you again, scanning your face, waiting for even the tiniest hesitation. You don’t move. Don’t stop him. So he tears open the foil packet, rolling the condom on with practiced ease, his breath steady, his hands sure.

Then he moves over you again, pressing his weight against you, his forearms bracing on either side of your head. His skin is warm, his scent thick in the air—faint sweat, cheap soap, cigarettes lingering beneath it all.

“You good?” he asks again, his nose brushing against yours.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”

His hands slide down, fingers gripping your thighs, spreading them apart with an easy familiarity. His touch is steadier now, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you there like he’s making sure you don’t slip away from him. He moves carefully, lining himself up, the thick heat of him pressing against you, not pushing in yet, just there, waiting.

Your whole body tenses, your breath catching, your fingers digging into his arms. Kenny stills immediately.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your cheek. “Look at me.”

You do. Slowly, your eyes flutter open, locking onto his. He holds your gaze, his own steady, reassuring, no teasing left in him now.

“We’ll go slow,” he says, voice soft but sure. “I got you.”

You bite your lip, your fingers tightening against his arms, nerves twisting tight in your stomach. His body is warm over you, solid and steady, and the way he’s looking at you—patient, but sharp, like he can see right through you—makes you feel both safe and like you’re going to fall apart all at once.

“…Will it hurt?” you whisper.

Kenny’s lips twitch, and for a second, you think he’s going to say something smart, something cocky, but when he sees the way your brows are pinched, the hesitation in your eyes, the teasing dies before it reaches his mouth.

“A little,” he admits, his voice dropping lower. His hands skim up your sides, thumbs stroking slow, lazy circles against your ribs, trying to settle you. “But we’ll take our time. And if it’s too much, we stop, no question.”

You nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat. His words help, but the nerves don’t disappear. Kenny sees it. Of course, he does. His smirk softens, and he dips down, pressing a slow, wet kiss to your throat, then lower, lips brushing against the curve of your shoulder, the center of your chest.

“You trust me, yeah?” His breath is warm, teasing over your skin.

You nod, fingers fisting in the sheets. “Yeah.”

Kenny hums, satisfied, and leans back, one hand trailing down between your thighs, fingers teasing at your entrance. “Try to relax, baby,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something deeper, something smoother. “You’re already so fuckin’ tight. Don’t wanna break you.”

You inhale sharply, your whole body flushing with heat, and Kenny grins, but there’s something careful under it—like he’s gauging your reaction. He drags his fingers through your slick, teasing, pressing the tip inside for just a second before pulling back. “See? Already openin’ up for me.” He presses his lips to your jaw, voice dipping lower, rougher. “Gonna take me so good.”

Your breath stutters, and before you can second-guess yourself, you shift your hips, guiding him where you want him. Kenny groans, low and wrecked, his grip flexing against your waist.

“Impatient now, huh?” he murmurs, amusement flickering through his tone. “Thought you were all nervous, and now you’re tryin’ to fuck yourself on my dick.”

You whimper, embarrassment and frustration curling hot in your stomach. “Kenny.”

He exhales sharply, his teasing smile twitching. “Alright, alright, I got you,” he mutters, shifting his weight, his free hand cupping your cheek for just a second before sliding down your body. “Breathe for me, okay?”

You barely have time to nod before you feel him press in.

The stretch is immediate—sharp and foreign, burning in a way that makes your whole body tense up. It’s too much, too thick, like he’s splitting you open inch by inch, and your breath catches, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

Kenny stills instantly. “Shit—you gotta relax,” he murmurs, his hands gripping your waist.

Your throat tightens, your chest rising and falling too fast. The sting doesn’t ease, just sits there, deep and aching, and you squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head.

“Kenny, it—it hurts.” Your voice wobbles, and you don’t mean to, but you turn your face into the pillow, squeezing out a choked, quiet sob.

Kenny freezes. For a second, everything is completely still.

And then—his weight shifts, and you feel him everywhere. His hands slide up your arms, coaxing them away from where you’ve curled in on yourself. He presses his forehead to yours, breathing slow and deep, trying to get you to match him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, lower, like he’s trying to anchor you. “It’s okay. I got you. You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good.”

Your breath shudders, your fingers tightening against his arms. You blink up at him, your vision wet, and Kenny curses under his breath, his thumb catching a stray tear before it can slide down your cheek.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he mutters, pressing another slow, deliberate kiss to your temple. “Didn’t mean to make you cry.” His voice is softer now, almost hesitant. “You want me to stop?”

You shake your head quickly, your grip flexing on his shoulders. “No—no, I just…” You sniffle, embarrassed, dragging a shaky hand down your face. “Just—give me a second.”

Kenny exhales, relief flickering across his face, and then he’s kissing you again—slow and lingering, distracting, like he’s trying to pull you away from the discomfort. His fingers stroke over your waist, your thighs, warm and steady, keeping you grounded.

The pain is still there, but it’s dulling now, your body slowly adjusting, and when you shift your hips, testing, the burn fades just slightly.

Kenny groans, low in his throat. “Jesus fuck,” he mutters, his voice tight, his hands flexing against you. “You feel so good. So fuckin’ warm.”

Your stomach clenches at the rasp in his voice, the way his breath is uneven against your skin. He’s holding back, you realize. He’s shaking with it, barely keeping himself still, waiting for you.

You exhale shakily, tilting your head to press a kiss to his jaw. “You can move,” you whisper.

Kenny swears softly, his head dipping to your shoulder, his breath stuttering out. “Fuck—” His grip tightens, and he pulls back just barely, then pushes in again, slow, careful, but deeper this time.

Your breath catches. It still aches, but now there’s warmth under it, heat curling through your stomach. Your fingers claw at his back, your thighs tightening around his hips.

Kenny watches you closely, his blue eyes dark and heavy-lidded, his breath uneven. “That better?”

You nod quickly, your lips parting. “Yeah.”

His grin flickers back, lazy but pleased. “Knew you’d like it.”

He thrusts again, just a little harder, and the pleasure sparks, spreading through you like a slow burn. Your head tips back, your breath coming faster, and Kenny groans, ducking down to mouth at your throat.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he mutters, his voice rough, strained. “Squeezin’ me so good. Can’t believe no one’s ever had this pussy before.”

Your stomach flips, heat pooling between your legs at his words. He knows exactly what he’s doing—knows his voice alone is enough to wreck you. Your nails dig into his skin, your breath coming faster.

Kenny grins against your neck, his hands flexing against your hips. “Makin’ all these sweet little noises for me,” he murmurs, his pace picking up just slightly. “You like bein’ my girl, huh? Bein’ the only one I’ve ever fucked like this?”

Your breath stutters, your body clenching around him, and Kenny groans, his rhythm faltering for just a second. “Shit—yeah, just like that.”

He fucks into you deeper, his weight pressing you into the mattress, and everything turns hazy, hot, the pleasure twisting in your gut. Kenny’s hands grip your thighs, his lips dragging over your skin, murmuring filth between soft, teasing kisses.

“Gonna take such good care of you,” he breathes, his voice low, hoarse. “Fuck you nice and slow ‘til you can’t feel anything but me.”

And God—he is. You’re so full, stretched around the thick length of him, your body molding to his like you were made for this, made to take him. The ache that lingered when he first pushed in has faded completely, replaced with a deeper, rolling pleasure that spreads through your limbs, settling hot in your stomach with every slow thrust of his hips. He keeps talking, keeps whispering against your skin, voice rough and unrestrained, a steady stream of praise and filth that has your pulse hammering.

“Look at you, babe,” he mutters, dragging his teeth along the curve of your jaw. “So fuckin’ tight, takin’ me so good. Goddamn.” His hands flex at your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips like he’s grounding himself, like he’s forcing himself to keep from losing control completely. He moves slow, agonizingly so, hips rolling in a way that lets you feel every inch of him dragging along your walls before he sinks in again, burying himself to the hilt. It’s steady, deliberate, making you feel all of it—how thick he is, how deep he’s pressing, how wet you are around him.

It’s good. So fucking good. But it’s not enough.

You bite your lip, heat crawling up your neck, embarrassment tingling under your skin even as you bring your hands up to his face, cupping his jaw. His stubble is rough against your palms, his lips parted, his breathing heavy, warm. His eyes are locked onto you, heavy-lidded and burning, pupils blown wide with hunger. He looks wrecked already, sweat dampening his blond hair, strands sticking to his forehead. The sight of him like this, flushed and desperate, sends another pulse of heat straight through you.

You offer him a shaky smile, feeling vulnerable but unable to hold it back. Kenny blinks, his expression shifting for just a second, something softer flickering behind his usual cocky grin. He huffs a breathless laugh, smirking as he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

And then—before your nerves get the best of you—you ask, barely above a whisper, “Can you go faster?” Your voice wavers, shy but certain. “It’s just… it feels really good.”

Kenny freezes.

His cock twitches inside you, and his fingers tighten, his grip turning almost bruising as he drags you down harder against him. His breath leaves him in a sharp exhale, his entire body tense like he’s fighting to keep himself in check. His smirk flickers—there, then gone—before his expression turns darker, more intense, his jaw clenching.

“Fuckin’ hell, babe,” he breathes, voice hoarse, thick with something raw. “You gotta be real careful askin’ me shit like that.” His fingers flex against your waist, holding you still, his cock pulsing inside you. “You don’t even know what you’re doin’ to me.”

The weight of his words presses into you, heat curling low in your stomach. You do know. You can see it in the way his body trembles, the way he’s holding himself back, restraint evident in the tautness of his muscles, the uneven rhythm of his breath.

He shifts his weight, pressing his forearms into the mattress beside your head, his body caging you in. He holds your gaze as he pulls out slow—so slow it’s maddening—letting you feel the full stretch of him before he slams back in, hips snapping forward in a sudden, punishing thrust.

The force knocks the breath from your lungs. Your mouth parts on a strangled gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders, fingers clawing at his back. The way he fills you, the way he grinds so deep, has your legs tightening around him, your body instinctively pulling him closer.

Kenny chuckles, breathless but smug, his lips brushing against your ear. “You want it faster?” His voice is low, teasing, but rough with need. He rolls his hips again, slower this time, drawing it out just to make you whimper before snapping forward again, making your entire body jolt. 

He picks up the pace, fucking into you harder now, abandoning the slow, careful rhythm in favor of something rougher, something that sends sparks of pleasure racing up your spine with every sharp thrust. His hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, spreading you open wider, keeping you pinned beneath him as he fucks you into the mattress.

“You like that, huh?” His breath is hot against your neck, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Like gettin’ fucked like this? Like bein’ stuffed full of my cock?”

You moan, fingers digging into his shoulders, unable to hold back. Your body is hypersensitive, every inch of you attuned to him, to the way he moves inside you, the way he presses against you like he never wants to let go.

Kenny groans, dragging his teeth along your throat before biting down, just enough to make you gasp. “Goddamn,” he mutters, pulling back to look at you, his expression wrecked, desperate. “You feel so fuckin’ good. So goddamn wet for me.”

His pace is relentless now, deep, grinding thrusts that have you panting, squirming, your legs trembling from the intensity of it. His hands slip under your thighs, hooking your legs over his arms, folding you open so he can get even deeper.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hips stuttering for half a second before he regains control. “Look at you, babe—spread out for me, takin’ it so fuckin’ good.”

The shift in angle has you seeing stars, the pressure so perfect, so overwhelming that you can’t stop the sounds spilling from your lips—breathless moans, needy whimpers, his name tangled in every exhale. Kenny eats it up, groaning at the way you clench around him, his own breaths growing rough, uneven.

“Shit, you’re squeezin’ me so tight,” he grits out, his grip on your thighs tightening. “Like you don’t wanna let me go.”

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath fanning across your lips as he keeps fucking you, the slick sound of it obscene in the quiet room. “You like this, don’t you?” His tone is smug, but there’s a raw edge to it, a desperation creeping in. “Like havin’ my cock buried deep inside you, stretchin’ you out, makin’ you mine.”

You whimper, nodding frantically, too far gone to feel embarrassed about how wrecked you sound.

Kenny grins, groaning as he thrusts harder, his pace quickening just slightly. “Yeah, you do,” he mutters, pressing a messy kiss to your lips, swallowing your moans. “Fuckin’ knew you would.”

Your nails rake down his back, your thighs trembling, the heat in your stomach burning hotter, winding tighter, threatening to snap. Kenny feels it—feels the way your body starts to tighten, how your breathing turns erratic.

He tilts his head, lips parting as he watches you. You’re close. He can see it written all over you—the way your lashes flutter, the way your fingers clutch at his arms like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered. Your body is trembling beneath him, your chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths.

"You don’t gotta hold back, sweetheart," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I got you. Just let go for me, yeah?"

He shifts, angling his hips just right, rolling into you deep, slow but deliberate, hitting that spot that makes your whole body jolt. His hands roam over you, sliding up your sides, feeling every little tremble, every twitch of your muscles as you tip over the edge.

"Kenny—oh, fuck—"

Your voice catches, your breath stuttering, and then—you break.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, stealing the air from your lungs. Your whole body tightens, your thighs trembling around his hips, your fingers clutching at his back as you moan against his skin. He groans low in his throat as he feels you clench around him, his pace faltering for just a second as he buries himself deep, letting you ride it out.

"That’s my girl," he breathes, his lips brushing against your jaw, your cheek, anywhere he can reach. "Fuck, you’re so goddamn perfect. Feels so fuckin’ good, baby."

His hands smooth over your thighs, your stomach, his touch warm and reverent, tracing lazy circles over your skin, coaxing you through the aftershocks. He doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t let the pleasure fade just yet—he keeps rocking into you, deep and steady, riding the high with you, drawing out every last shiver.

You gasp, still reeling, body sensitive and buzzing. Kenny presses his forehead to yours, his breath mingling with yours, his lips ghosting over your mouth, your nose, murmuring sweet praises between kisses.

"Goddamn," he whispers, nipping at your bottom lip. "You got no idea how fuckin’ good you feel. Gonna make me lose my goddamn mind."

You exhale shakily, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging lightly, pulling him closer. He grins against your skin, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your throat.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he murmurs, dragging his nose along your jaw. "Not too much?"

You shake your head quickly, breathless, still floating, still warm. "I’m good," you whisper, voice hoarse but certain. "So good."

Kenny smiles, his hands slipping beneath your knees, adjusting the angle, shifting deeper. You shudder at the feeling, the stretch, the warmth still smoldering in your stomach.

"Yeah?" His voice is softer now, but still thick with desire. "Think you can give me one more?"

His thumb strokes over your hip, his lips brushing your ear. "Bet I can make you cum again, baby," he murmurs, kissing just below your jaw. "Wanna feel you fall apart for me one more time."

You whimper, nodding, already feeling the heat coil again, already wanting more.

Kenny groans, kissing you slow and deep as he rolls his hips, sinking into you again, starting to move just a little faster, a little rougher, pulling another breathless moan from your lips.

"That’s my girl," he whispers. "Let me take care of you."

Heat spreads up your neck, pooling in your cheeks, your entire body buzzing from his words. You whine softly, tucking your face against his shoulder, overwhelmed by how good he’s making you feel—how gentle he is despite how deep, how thick he is inside you. Your childhood best friend—now your boyfriend—fucking you like he worships you, like he’s waited just as long as you have for this. It makes your chest ache, your stomach tighten, the intimacy almost too much to take.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer, needing more. Your arms loop around his neck, holding onto him, your fingers tangling in the damp, messy strands of his hair. He groans at the way you squeeze around him, his pace stuttering for half a second before he finds it again, thrusting slow and deep, dragging every inch of himself out before sinking back in, stretching you all over again.

“Kenny,” you whisper against his skin, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, down his neck. “I want you to cum.”

A rough groan punches out of his chest, his fingers tightening at your hips. “Fuck, babe,” he mutters, his breath shuddering against your cheek. “Tryna make me lose my mind?”

You moan in response, tilting your head to suck at the sensitive skin beneath his ear, marking him up just like he did to you. His hips jerk, his rhythm faltering for just a second before he growls low in his throat, snapping his hips a little harder, a little rougher. You gasp, clutching onto him, the change in pace sending heat licking up your spine.

You feel him everywhere—his weight pressing you into the mattress, his hands gripping your body like he never wants to let go, the way his cock drags against that spot inside you with every roll of his hips, making your breath stutter, your thighs tremble around him.

And you want more.

You meet him halfway, rolling your hips up to match his thrusts, your body instinctively chasing the heat building between you. Kenny swears under his breath, dropping his head to your shoulder, his hands sliding down to grab handfuls of your ass, gripping tight as he fucks into you deeper, harder.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, his voice rough, wrecked. “Keep fuckin’ yourself on me like that.”

His words send a shiver through you, your nails dragging down his back, desperate to hold onto him. “Kenny—”

“I got you,” he rasps, kissing you again, swallowing the moan that spills from your lips. His tongue slides against yours, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before pulling back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes dark and blown wide. “You’re so fuckin’ good for me.”

Your stomach tightens at the praise, heat spreading through your body, making you move faster, grinding up against him, wanting to make him feel just as good as he’s making you feel.

“Shit,” Kenny hisses, his grip flexing against your ass. “You’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum.”

“Please,” you breathe, dragging your lips along his throat, sucking another bruise into his skin. “I wanna feel you.”

A deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest, his pace turning rougher, more erratic, the heat between you burning hotter, sharper, making your whole body tremble. You can feel it, how close he is, how he’s barely holding himself back.

“Kenny,” you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Cum for me.”

His body shudders, his breath catching, and he groans your name like a prayer. His hips snap against yours, sharp and desperate, his hands gripping you so tight you know you’ll feel it tomorrow. You whine, arching against him, gasping as he buries himself deep, his whole body tensing before he finally lets go.

You feel it—the way his cock throbs inside you, the thick pulse of his release filling the condom, the warmth of him even through the barrier. His muscles lock up, his breath leaving him in a sharp, ragged exhale, forehead pressed to your collarbone as he rides it out. His fingers flex against your waist, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

A heavy silence settles between you, broken only by the sound of your breathing. His chest rises and falls against yours, the heat of his body soaking into your skin. His weight presses you into the mattress, grounding you, keeping you right there with him.

His arms tighten around you, but he doesn’t move to pull out yet. Instead, he exhales against your neck, his breath still uneven, warm and damp as it ghosts over your skin. His hair sticks to his forehead, the strands tickling your cheek, but you don’t push him away.

You stare at the ceiling, trying to process everything at once. The glow-in-the-dark stars still cling to the paint, faded from years of use, scattered unevenly like a sky full of dying light. They’re the same as they’ve always been, and yet, everything feels different now.

Kenny McCormick is your boyfriend.

Your best friend. The same Kenny you grew up with, the same one who used to steal your fries when you weren’t looking, who made you laugh until you couldn’t breathe, who always had your back no matter what. And now—now he’s here, wrapped around you, his cock still buried inside you, his lips brushing against your neck like he belongs there.

Your chest tightens, but not with panic. There’s warmth in it, deep and slow, spreading through your ribs like embers catching fire.

Kenny groans, low and lazy, and nuzzles closer. “Fuck,” he mutters, voice rough, barely above a breath. “I think you just killed me.”

A weak laugh escapes you, fingers twitching against his back as you drag them up, tangling into his hair. “You’re still breathing.”

His lips curl against your throat, a slow, lazy grin. “Barely.”

His arms stay locked around you, his body heavy, his breath steadying against your skin. He’s not in a hurry to move, and for once, neither are you. His fingers stroke over your hip, tracing slow, aimless shapes, warm and reassuring.

After a moment, he shifts just enough to lift his head, his eyes locking onto yours. They’re darker now, still hooded from the afterglow, but softer, like he’s looking at something—someone—important. His usual smirk is there, but it’s different, lazy and satisfied instead of cocky. His fingers skim your shoulder, brushing over the fresh marks he left behind, his touch slow, deliberate.

His gaze lingers on them, something flickering behind his expression, and his smirk deepens. His thumb presses into one of the bruises, just enough to make you shiver.

“Shit,” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly. “Look at you.” His voice drops, thick with satisfaction, his lips brushing against your jaw. “All mine.”

Heat floods your face. Your breath catches, and for a second, you forget how to speak. The weight of his words sinks into you, deeper than his hands, deeper than his body still pressing you into the sheets.

You swallow hard, fingers still tangled in his hair, your nails scraping lightly against his scalp. He hums in approval, tilting his head into your touch, his smirk curling wider. His eyes flick up to meet yours, watching you carefully, drinking in your expression, waiting to see if you’ll deny it.

You don’t.

Kenny grins, slow and lazy, before leaning in, his lips brushing over yours like a secret. His mouth is still swollen from kissing you raw, still tastes like everything you just did together—like heat and sweat and the salt of his skin. The kiss is softer this time, unhurried, the kind that lingers, the kind that says more than either of you know how to put into words.

You melt into it, sighing against his lips, the corners of your mouth twitching up in a smile. He feels it, you know he does, because you can feel him smile too, lips curving as he deepens the kiss just slightly. The warmth of him settles over you, all-consuming without being overwhelming, a weight you don’t mind carrying.

When you finally break apart, your fingers trail absently along his shoulder, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the damp skin of his back. You’re both still catching your breath, still tangled together, bodies flush, skin damp. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it hums with unspoken thoughts, the reality of what just happened creeping in at the edges.

Your stomach twists—not with regret, not even with doubt, but with the sheer weight of it. The line between friends and lovers has blurred, smudged beyond recognition, and there’s no pretending it doesn’t matter.

Your fingers tighten against his skin. “…What are we gonna tell the guys?”

Kenny blinks, caught off guard for half a second, before a slow smirk spreads across his face. “Shit, I dunno,” he says, voice rough around the edges, still hazy from pleasure. “Kinda wanna just show up holdin’ hands and let ‘em lose their fuckin’ minds.”

A breathless laugh escapes you, and you shake your head, the image of it flashing behind your eyelids—Kyle’s immediate demand for an explanation, Stan’s barely-contained surprise, Cartman’s inevitable shit-eating grin. You can already hear the smug, drawn-out I fucking knew it he’d throw in your face.

Kenny’s fingers skim along your side, lazy and absentminded, like he’s committing the feel of you to memory.

“Unless…” He tilts his head, voice quieter now, more deliberate. “Unless you don’t wanna tell ‘em yet.”

You hesitate, not because you’re unsure of this—of him—but because it feels like something you want to keep to yourself, at least for a little while longer. There’s a selfish kind of intimacy in it, in the knowledge that for now, this is just yours and his, untouched by the outside world.

“I do,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. Your fingers slide into his hair, smoothing back the strands that cling to his forehead, still damp from sweat. “I just… kinda like it being ours for now.”

Kenny watches you closely, that usual cocky grin softening at the edges. His fingers flex against your waist, just slightly, grounding you, holding onto you like he’s making sure you don’t slip away. He nods, just once, but his expression says more than words ever could.

His lips part, like he’s about to say something serious, maybe something important, but before he can get a single word out, the door slams open so hard it rattles the walls.

"AHAHAHAHA! PAY UP, BITCHES!"

Cartman stands there, holding his phone out like he just caught the crime of the century. His face is split into a shit-eating grin, his other hand dramatically pressed over his mouth in fake shock. He doesn’t even hesitate before snapping a photo.

Kenny barely even lifts his head from where he’s still sprawled over you, his bare skin warm against yours. He blinks, unimpressed. "You fucking serious right now?"

Cartman cackles, already tapping at his phone. "I fucking knew it!" He’s not even talking to you—he’s on FaceTime, his phone angled just enough for you to catch Kyle’s scowling face on the screen. "Look at ‘em, tell me they didn’t just fuck! I win, bitches! Hand it over, I want my money tonight!"

Kyle groans. "Cartman, what the actual fuck—why are you even there?"

"Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I was being a good friend and forced them to make up!" Cartman shoves the phone closer, like he’s making a goddamn documentary. "You see this? This is the face of victory, gentlemen."

"Jesus Christ," Stan’s voice cuts in, followed by the sound of a palm smacking a forehead. "Dude, hang up, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? You doubted me! You all doubted me! But now I have undeniable proof that these two horny degenerates—"

"CARTMAN!" Kyle barks. "HANG. UP."

Kenny groans into your shoulder, his whole body shaking, not with anger, but with barely restrained laughter. "Dude, just get the fuck out."

Cartman scoffs. "Pfft. Fine. You’re lucky I’m feeling generous, Kinny." He pulls the phone back to his own face. "Alright, losers, I’ll be expecting my money by the end of the night, or I’m doubling your debt. Later, virgins."

And just like that, he’s gone, slamming the door behind him, his laughter echoing down the hall.

Silence settles over the room. You and Kenny just stare at each other, exhausted, tangled together, your bodies still warm from everything you just did.

And then, somehow, it’s funny. The sheer absurdity of it, the fact that of course Cartman would bet on your love life and of course he would crash this moment just to gloat about it.

You snort first, and then Kenny’s grinning, shaking his head, and before you know it, you’re both laughing. It’s breathless, ridiculous, delirious, your shoulders shaking as Kenny presses his forehead to yours, his body still heavy on top of you.

"Our secret, huh?" he murmurs, lips brushing against yours.

You huff, nudging his shoulder. "Shut up."

luv u kenny <3

event masterlist | part one | part two

[anglbunny]

credit completion ♡ Fratboy!Gojo satoru

cw: smut mdni, frat boy!gojo, teacher!reader, dub-con

୨୧

You should’ve known Satoru Gojo wouldn’t take you seriously.

Leaning back in the stiff chair across from your desk, legs spread obnoxiously wide, eyes hidden behind those stupid sunglasses, he didn’t even try to act like he was listening. You droned on about his attendance, the assignments he hasn’t turned in, the grades that were circling the drain. He looked at the ceiling, the clock, his phone, until finally your voice snapped sharp—stern, professional, done.

“Gojo, if you don’t pull your grades up, you’re going to have to repeat this class. That’s not a warning anymore—it’s a fact.”

That finally made his attention flick lazily toward you, lips curling into that cocky, frat boy smirk. “Damn, teach, you sound so serious… makes me think you want me to stick around longer.”

You clenched your jaw, ready to throw him out, but he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice dropping into something sinfully low.

“Or maybe… I could raise my grade another way?”

You blinked. “…Excuse me?”

Gojo’s grin widened, tongue flicking over his teeth. “C’mon, now. Don’t play dumb. Bet you get off on being in control, huh? All that authority. But when’s the last time someone made you beg?”

You stood to dismiss him, heart pounding, but before you could speak, he was already around the desk, crowding you, caging you in. He smelled like expensive cologne, bad decisions, and frat party smoke. And despite every fiber of your professional brain screaming no—your body melted when he pressed you down onto your own desk, his palm splayed over the small of your back.

And that’s how you ended up here.

Bent over like a cheap slut on campus, skirt bunched around your hips, his cock slamming deep into you, stretching you until your vision blurred. The sound of skin slapping filled the empty lecture hall, along with your helpless moans, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth as you clawed at the polished wood.

“See, Ms.l/n,” Gojo groaned behind you, fucking into you like he owned your body, “bet you never got ruined on your own fuckin’ desk, huh? Look at you—fuckin’ drooling. S’this the face of a professional? Yeah? You like when the student teaches you a lesson?”

You couldn’t answer—not when his hand was around your throat, making you dizzy, high off the filthy way he stretched you out. All you could do was take it, sobbing his name into the varnish while he pounded into you like he wanted you to fail him.

And Gojo?

Gojo was grinning, knowing he’d just found his new favorite after-class activity.

Taglist:@samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt

A/N: i tried

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[masterlist]

[nerdsnuff]

NISHINOYA YUU BOYFRIEND HCS. gender neutral reader, fluff, pre-timeskip in mind while writing…

my first haikyuu love… still love him btw thats my BABE who deserves more love

𓅪 does not hide his feelings. at all. he WILL be the one to confess. no buts. on a random day and not even fully planned… just blurts it out impulsively.

you were getting the last of your things in your locker before you finally head home for the day, imagine your surprise when you see nishinoya next to you when you closed your locker door. he simply laughs as you yelp, heart almost bursting out. “hahah! sorry for scaring you! i just really wanted to talk to you. walk to the gate with me?” he offers. though you’re jokingly still ticked off you agree anyways, letting him know with a nod. once you’re done you two head off, the wind is nice and cool this afternoon. “so… there’s something i wanna tell you…” he suddenly stops, so you do too. unexpectedly he raises his voice, startling you once more. “YOU’RE SUPER COOL AND I KNOW THIS IS SUDDEN BUT PLEASE GO OUT WITH ME!”

𓅪 both before and after dating he talks to tanaka all about you all the time. thankfully the guy is never annoyed. and yes he did wingman nishinoya, probably the guy to convince him to just go for it and confess. they’re both pretty intense about their feelings… anyway just imagine the absolute hype when you accept his confession.

𓅪 guard dog boyfriend FR! will not let ANYONE bother you. people hitting on you? jumped. bullies? jumped? some person simply pissing you off? JUMPED. he has a bit of a problem controlling his temper sometimes… you often have to tell him off when he doesn’t realize that backing off is simply a better solution.

𓅪 speaking of guard dog, would absolutely love to take you home as far as he could! if you use the bus then he’ll take you to the stop (though would hop on with you if he could…), if you guys live near each other hell yeah he’d walk you home

𓅪 buys you treats after school!!! loves spoiling you with little snacks. candy, ice cream, cheap cakes, etc. mostly sweets. always takes you to go to coach ukai’s store every after school! he basically remembers what you look like now and teases the two of you.

𓅪 biggest simp like goddamn bro. he isn’t even into romcoms but if he was he’d be doing all the extra shit he sees. that can’t take my eyes off you’ performance from 10 things i hate about you? absolutely he’d do that. he WOULD learn french for you. which is crazy ‘cus he literally struggles to learn englishcough

𓅪 WILL tackle hug you. yes, even if he’s sweaty… can you blame him? he just can’t contain all the love he has for his darling partner!

𓅪 about petnames… 100% a “babe” guy. i mean he’ll call you other things but babe just slips out so much easier for him.

𓅪 he does need help in class but most of the time acts like he doesn’t just to seem cooler. but if it gets real bad he will go to you for help, it doesn’t matter if you’re smarter than him or not.

𓅪 invites you out almost every weekend. unless it’s a busy week or a busy week is coming up, then you guys just call from home.

“y’know, i really wanted to take you cycling today, but i seriously gotta study…” he sighs and adjusts the phone on his ear, causing scratched noises to be heard from his line. “oh yeah, i’m going to tokyo next week! ahah, yeah! i gotta study hard so i can actually go though, wouldn’t let me pass with a bad grade” you hear him chuckle, along with the sound of papers ruffling. “mmhm, it’s a training camp for volleyball” he then unexpectedly pauses for a moment, the unfamiliar silence makes your eyebrow quirk up. though in a quick second, his voice shoots up again. “actually, ryuu’s coming over to study with me soon… wanna join!?”

[withlovemark]

"the baby project"

warning(s): suggestive! angst! mentions of cheating, drinking, lots of cussing, minho can't communicate to save his relationship

pairing: exes to lovers minho x reader [requested]

words: 4.8k+

summary: he's a cheater. he broke up with you. and now he has the nerve to be the one mad at you? it's all bad! and the cherry on top is you're forced to be paired up with your cheating ex for a project worth 50% of your grade. what could possibly go wrong?...or...right???

au: for the sake of the story, everyone has been aged up to the legal drinking age in s.korea (19). no underaged drinking here! (if you do, pls be safe)

-

professor alex stumbles into the classroom clumsily, box in hand filled with life-like baby dolls, capturing everyone’s attention.

“ok class, today is the start of the baby project!,” he says excitedly, “you’ll be paired up in 2 of course, acting as the parents, please make sure to take care of your temporary child as this will account for 50% of your final grade,” he explains as the whole classroom groans in annoyance, this was either a pass or fail.

“professor-,” madison raises her hand, “can we pick our partners?,”

“of course,” he nods, everyone immediately scrambling to their usual partner, leaving you - partnerless.

you sigh, looking around the room for anyone who wasn’t paired up only to lock eyes with your ex, minho!, standing across the room. it made sense, you guys were usually the ones partnered up but right now you wanted nothing to do with him.  

‘you’ve got to be fucking kidding me’

“ok,” professor alex claps his hands, “everyone seems to have their partners, minho and y/n please stand next to each other,”

“no way i'm partnering with her!,” minho complains, his accent ringing in your ears making you want to vomit. 

“well, i don't want you as my partner either!,” you roll your eyes, arms crossed. 

“uhm, okay, well is anyone willing to switch?,” professor alex looks around the room as you and minho have a stare down, “no?,” the class is absolutely still. dae almost volunteers but before he could do so, yuri slaps his hand down, shaking her head no. 

“ok well i'm afraid you two either do this together or fail this class, the choice is yours.”

“now, each pair will get a stroller, a cradle, a baby bottle and a week's worth of diapers, please make sure all of this remains in pristine condition. for every cry that the baby makes, a point will be deducted to your grade…a voice recorder is installed in each baby to make sure you are following the rules of gentle parenting, so please everyone, take this very seriously, ” he advised. 

—

“this is so fucking stupid,” minho groans in annoyance as the two of you sat on the grass, having a picnic, fulfilling one of the baby’s needs – quality time.

“language,” you warn him.

“it’s a fucking doll, y/n,”

you scoff, you hate this as much as he does, “yeah a doll that has a voice recorder,” you remind him. 

“you really think they’re going to listen to a week’s footage of this shit,”

“can you just stop cursing?!,” he was getting on your last nerves, “you think you can do whatever you want with no consequences,” you mutter under your breath.

”what did you say?,”

”nothing,” you brush him off.

”no, say it…since you have so much to say anyways,” he grunts, waiting.

“huh…can’t say it to my face? you know this is exactly why i broke up with you, you just always have some bullshit to say,” he taunts, catching your attention, eyebrows furrowing. 

he has pushed your last buttons, if he wanted to hear what you had to say, then he’s going to hear it. 

"you never were good at this," you said quietly, voice biting. “you always wanted the easy way out, minho, that’s why you cheated right!…is that what you wanted to hear?,” you say angrily, tears threatening to spill. 

minho’s eyes darken at your words but before he could get a chance to reply the baby’s cries broke off the tension. 

"great," you scoff, gently grabbing the baby and rocking it back and forth. 

“i’ll go change her diaper,” you announce, quickly making your way back to your dorm room. you needed to get out of there fast, your own tears threatening to spill. 

minho watches your figure leave until you are completely gone. your words hit him harder than they should have. 

its true, he did pull away first. 

—

it's been two days since the park incident. you have been taking care of the baby all by yourself, getting more pissed off at minho with every second that passes. there were still four days left of this project but you were already at your wit’s end. 

it was so like him — to leave once it was getting hard. although, this might be a bit of projection on your end.

a knock makes it’s way to your door, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“what are you doing here?,” you ask, coming face to face with the devil himself.

“give me the baby,” minho commands. 

“what? no!”

“look y/n, this is my grade too ok and my voice hasn't been around her for a while,”

”weren't you the one who said they won't listen to it anyway”

”just give me the damn baby, i'll return her tomorrow”

“no”

”why not”

”i don't trust you!,” you admit, making him falter for a brief moment before the sound of the baby’s cries snaps him out of his haze.

“fine,” he gives in, pushing his way into your dorm.

”what are you doing?”

”i'm staying here, you can watch us all you want,” he says, walking over to the baby’s cradle, picking her up and rocking her back and forth, baby bottle in hand.

“whatever,” you scoff, walking past him and into your room, slamming your door shut. 

truth is, you needed his help. you swore that the baby was defected, crying over the littlest of noises. you took this opportunity to catch up on all your assignments, trying to ignore the boy that was currently in your living room.

-

minho inspects your place, finding everything exactly as it was before. it’s as if no time has passed and he’s suddenly back to those moments – sitting on the same tiny couch, ramen noodles in hand, binging your favorite tv shows, or when you would experiment with skin care together, laughter filling the space as you discovered some face masks were gentler than others. then there were those times when you would just lay together, head on his chest, talking about the future or other times when the tv’s sounds were drowned out by the sinful noises that escaped your lips. 

he can’t help but feel a pang of regret, realizing that the two of you had it all and somehow let it slip away.

he makes his way to your bedroom, gently knocking at your door. no response. he tries again. nothing. his annoyance beginning to creep through. 

slowly, he turns your doorknob, only to find you slumped at your desk, hair disheveled, breathing steady and slow – completely worn out and fallen asleep from exhaustion. 

he releases a sigh, making his way over to you and gently tapping on your shoulder, “y/n-,” he quietly calls out to you, afraid to startle you.

putting a stop to the light taps, you softly take his hand, murmuring, “-just five more minutes,” your mind clouded in a daze. the warmth of your touch stirs a wave of remorse in him, and for the first time since the break up, he realizes how much he has missed you. 

“this is really bad for your back, you know?,” he softly chides, carefully picking you up from your chair. you snuggle into his chest like it was second nature, sleep overtaking you. minho silently thanks the universe that you couldn't hear the rapid thumping of his heart. 

gently laying you down on your bed, he tucks you in carefully so as to not disturb your sleep. before he could go, your hands find his again, “don’t leave me,” you mumble in your sleep and it takes every ounce of his will to pull away.  

“i'll be back tomorrow,” he promises softly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before quietly slipping out of the room. 

it wasn’t until he was in the comfort of his own bed that he realized what he had done. slapping his forehead in frustration, he forced  himself to sleep and just deal with it tomorrow. 

–

“what happened to you?,” you spat, seeing the dark circles that had formed under his eyes and the pimple that he was currently sporting. 

“what?!”

you harshly poke his reddening pimple as he slapped your hand away, walking away and finding his spot at the couch next to your baby. 

he realizes you don’t remember anything about last night and the fact that he had already thought of a million excuses for his behavior to something you don’t even remember makes his blood boil, but this was for the better.

“how is she?,” he asks, leaving you confused by his sudden concern for your fake baby. 

you eye him suspiciously, “she’s fine, she didn’t cry at all last night,” you gasp in realization, rushing over to check if her battery was still in.

“what? what happened?,” he panicked at your sudden movement. 

you carefully inspect the baby, everything was still where it should be. minho scoffs, your actions dawning on him, “you really don’t trust me do you?”

“can you blame me?,” you shot back, “you’re not exactly the most trustworthy person in the room,” you jab at his character once more, causing his eyebrows to furrow in frustration. 

“she’s been crying nonstop for the past two days and suddenly you show up and not a single peep,” you continue explaining.

“well, maybe she just missed her dad, why would i kill our child like that?,” he mocks angrily, rolling his eyes. 

the baby starts crying again, snapping both of you out of the argument. each cry is a point deducted and you’re pretty sure you’ve been down 10 points now.  

you rushed over to tend to her, hands brushing against minho’s in the process as you reached for her at the same moment. 

quickly, you pull away, letting minho hold her as the two of you coo the fake baby, trying to get it to stop, “shhh its okay, mommy and daddy aren’t fighting, were just having a loud conversation,” minho talks to the doll like it truly had feelings and you can’t help but giggle at the sight. 

“what?,”

“this is absolutely ridiculous,” you laugh, the baby’s cries immediately stopping, “hey, it worked,” he says, sharing your smile. 

you cough, breaking eye contact as you sat down at the other end of your couch, “a-are you staying here for dinner?,”

“uhm,” he scratches the back of his head awkwardly, putting the baby down, “should i?,”

“i think she likes it better when we’re together,” you point to the baby. he nods, agreeing, “okay”

“okay,” you say, reaching out for your tv remote and switching it on.

“just three more days,” you mutter under your breath.

–

minho has fallen asleep on your couch, the show you were currently watching long forgotten as sleep took him away. 

after he had made the two of you dinner it felt wrong to just kick him out. 

instead, you watch the steady rise and fall of his chest as he occupies the same space he did before, almost like it was always meant to be reserved for him. you want so badly to just lay your head in the comfort of his chest and wrap your arms around him as you somehow fit together on this couch with absolutely no distance between you…just like before. but so much has happened since the last time you’ve felt that closeness.

as much as you miss having him around you can't shake the words he said to kitty out of your mind. 

you had gone there to surprise him, with the dish he’d been craving when you stumbled upon them in an empty classroom. the hushed conversation hung in the air, and the words - “i think i’ve fallen in love with you, a little bit...or a lot,” slipped from his lips, leaving you frozen in shock as you turned away, heartbroken. 

you can’t for the life of you figure out when he had developed those feelings for her, how he could so easily throw your relationship away or why he couldn’t just be honest with you. if he had then maybe you would have remained friends instead of whatever rivalry you've got going on right now. you shake the thoughts away, not wanting to dwell on it any longer. 

what’s done is done. 

instead, you grabbed a blanket and your star-shaped acne patches from your room. gently draping the blanket over him, you carefully apply the yellow patch to his cheek before turning the tv off. with a soft glance at him resting peacefully, you quietly slipped away. 

–

the sun greets through your window, waking minho up in the process. it takes him a while to realize he was still on your couch, taking notice of the blanket around his body and the star patch, his favorite, sitting prettily on his cheek.

his heart flutters at the thought of your care, excitement bubbling through him at the hope of becoming friends.

you exit your room, already dressed for the day, “morning,” you greet him, heading over to your kitchen to drink a glass of water. he clears his throat, “good morning,” he smiles.  

“i’m going out with yuri and juliana, you can stay here and watch the baby,” you say coldly before leaving your dorm room, leaving minho sitting there dumbfoundedly. 

–

you needed a girl’s day. something to get your mind out of the gutter. so you spent the whole day shopping your heart away, until the three of you found yourself in the middle of the new club.

this is actually what you needed – a drink, maybe two, maybe three. 

being paired up with your ex when there were still clearly a lot of unresolved feelings was the worst thing to happen to you. you are so going to leave a bad review for professor alex at the end of this term. 

“y/n, slow down,” yuri says, grabbing the shot glass away from you. 

“i just need to forget,” you whine, reaching out for the shot glass. 

“do you really think drinking will help you?,” yuri reprimands, “it’ll only make you forget tonight but then you’ll be back to square one tomorrow.” 

she was correct, of course she was, but you honestly don’t care. 

you brush her off, wandering off on your own, in search of another drink. you just need enough to make the pain go away, just enough to let loose and have fun for a bit and then you’ll go home. 

your phone rings in your pocket – minho. his contact picture that you have yet to change blurs your vision, it was a picture of you kissing his cheek, his smile grinning from ear to ear, eyes happily closed. you ignore it, shutting your phone off. you don’t want to think about his stupid face. 

–

it’s 1:00 AM and minho has been worried sick. it was so unlike you to be out this late. he has been trying to call you only to be left with your dial tone. kitty has come over to calm him down, helping him figure out where you could be.

“ok so, yuri said they went out to a club but she lost her,” kitty tells minho after getting off the call with yuri.

“lost her!?,”

“yeah, apparently y/n ran away from her after she stopped her from drinking, they’re not entirely sure where she is right now…she sent the address of the bar though,” kitty says, handing her phone to minho.

he immediately jumps up, rushing to your door when it suddenly swings opens. 

you stumble in, the smell of alcohol clinging to your clothes as your gaze sweeps across the dorm, landing on kitty who is standing right in the middle of the room, a dark laugh escapes you. 

life really had a twisted way of playing trick on you.

“where have you been?,” minho’s voice cuts through, drawing your attention. your laughter fades, leaving you caught in a mix of emotions, unsure whether to laugh or cry as the alcohol swirls in your system. 

who was he to ask in the first place? looking at you with concerned eyes like he actually fucking cared.

“that’s just fucking great isn’t?,” you spat, eyes brimming with tears, “just bring the girl you cheated with to your ex’s place,” you laugh bitterly, trying desperately to wipe away the tears that have spilled.

“cheated?,” you hear kitty chime in, confusion etched on her face. 

“what’d you guys do? fuck on my couch?,” you accusingly say, voice breaking as the tears continued to fall.

"enough." 

minho’s voice is firm as he steps toward kitty, gently taking her hand and leading her out of your dorm. "sorry about this , i’ll see you tomorrow," he tells her as they bid each other a goodbye, leaving the two of you standing there.

“what the fuck is your problem?,” he turns to you, fed up with your behavior. 

“you’re my problem!,” you shout, frustration and pain finally spilling over “you tell another girl you’re in love with her while being with me and you can’t even be fucking honest with me about it!,” you shout, breaking down completely. all the emotional turmoil of weeks of holding it in crashes over you.

“do you even know how much it hurt to hear you say you were in love with her?,” you confess, hiding your face in your hands, tears pouring uncontrollably. 

the baby cries for the umpteenth time and you can’t help but cry harder. you run to the safety of your room, slamming the door shut behind you. the sharp click of the lock resonates throughout the room, amplifying the weight of the moment.

minho finally put two and two together, the accusations of cheating making sense in a way that shatters him. his heart breaks at the realization that you have heard them that day in the classroom. 

with a heavy sigh, he walks over to the fake baby, gently trying to soothe her as he gathers his thoughts, heart heavy with regret as he hears your cries in the next room.

–

you push yourself off your bed, your head pounding, the memories from last night hitting you like a ton of bricks.

how could you have been so careless?

slowly, you get to your feet, grabbing clean clothes and making your way out of your room, determined to shower the remnants of the night away and clear your head.

but a figure in the kitchen stops you in your tracks.

“morning,” minho says, placing a glass of water and a pain reliever on the counter, pushing them in your direction. you nod in acknowledgment, walking over and accepting his offer, desperate to ease the throbbing in your head.

“we need to talk about last night,” he says, breaking the silence.

“after i shower,” you agreed, scurrying off and making your way towards your bathroom. your mind racing with the thought of what he had to say. perhaps, you took longer than usual, not at all ready for this conversation. 

–

you finally make your way back into your living room, freshly dressed, towel in hand and spot minho sitting on your couch, a plate of breakfast placed on your coffee table. he looks back at you, patting the space next to him, “you should eat first,” he says.

you eye him suspiciously, slowly making your way over to your side of the couch as he grabbed the towel out of your hand, using it to dry your wet hair. 

you quickly pull away, in shock, “what are you doing?”

“uhh, drying your hair, obviously” he replies, tone dripping with playful sarcasm. 

“why?,” you question. he was being unexpectedly sweet and now you’re racking your brain for a memory that may have gotten lost on you last night.

“why not?,” he teases and you’re too tired to argue any further. you sigh in defeat, letting him do what he wants, focusing instead on the breakfast in front of you, stomach grumbling at the realization of how hungry you actually were. 

minho continues to gently dry your hair as you sit with your back to him, hurriedly eating the food he made. 

for a moment it felt like how it did before, a pang of sadness washing over you. 

“i’ll say sorry to kitty,” you break the comfortable silence, pausing his movement.

“for?,” he asks. 

“what i said last night, i was drunk and it wasn’t nice of me,” you admit.

“okay,” he says.

“and sorry to you too,” you apologize, “it’s just…not easy for me y’know?,”

“i don’t know, actually, what’s not easy?,” 

you sigh in frustration. he sure wasn’t making this whole apology thing any easier.

“it’s not easy for me to see you two together,” you admit, “i’m gonna need some time to move on from this, it’s not like what we shared was nothing,” you pause, finishing your food.

“-and, plus you haven’t even apologized to me for cheating on me by the way,” you exhale, frustration slowly building at the reminder, as your thoughts continued to flow. 

“-then what? you break up with me for calling you out on your bullshit like really? you couldn’t just be a little more honest?,” you turn to face him, a mix of disbelief and annoyance in your eyes, trying to keep your emotions under control.

“-and now were here taking care of this fake baby,” you point at the baby sitting in her cradle sporting her evil smile, “who cries at everything, like god!, im so tired and so ready to give her back."

you sigh, slumping back onto the couch, “she’s made this whole thing a lot more difficult than it should be, it was supposed to be out of sight, out of mind,” you emphasized, “that was the plan...but now you’re here” you ramble. all the things you had planned to say in the shower spill out.

you were supposed to sound way more collected than this.

minho listens intently to every word you say, a warm grin slowly spreading across his face, “are you done?” he asks, his tone light.

“yeah,” you say, feeling a little deflated.

“ok, my turn,” he says cheekily. 

“first, thank you for saying sorry for last night,” he begins, “but i won’t apologize for cheating on you,” he continues, and before you could curse him out, he adds, “because i did not cheat on you.”

“oh c’mon, i heard you tell-,” 

“-kitty i was in love with her a little bit?,” he interrupts you, finishing your sentence. 

“or a lot?” you added. how could you forget the sentence that haunted you every night. 

“or a lot,” he nods, a knowing look in his eyes, “i was practicing and she was helping me” he admits. 

“practicing for what?,” you ask, confusion creeping in.

“for how i was going to tell you i was in love with you,” he admits, gaze locking with yours. your breath catches in your throat, the weight of his words sinking in. 

“what?,” you whisper, voice faltering at his confession. 

“i’m not done,” he says and you nod, encouraging him to keep going.  

“i am sorry for walking out, at the time i was too scared of my own feelings, i’ve never told anyone i was in love with them…,” he admits, “-so when you accused me of cheating, i got angry, i couldn’t believe you could think so little of me when i was thinking the world of you,” he says with a sad chuckle, finally clearing things up. 

“why didn’t you just tell me?,” you ask, your voice quiet. 

“because i thought this was too good to be true, every couple was destined to end why not just end it now?,” he shrugs, “i saw it with my parents, the way they switch partners like clothes, it was all i knew,” he adds shakily, “so when we started to fall apart, i just…let it happen, i thought well, that’s how relationships go, they crumble, and you move on to the next one,” his truths spill out of his lips. 

“-but then, this baby comes along and suddenly you were forced back into my life and i realized that i couldn’t—didn’t want to run anymore,” he continues, walls crumbling down.

“…i’m still in love with you and not even a little bit,” he confesses, eyes locked on yours.

“y/n, i love you… a lot,” he declares, his voice full of conviction, “to the point where i want to run with you and if ever you decide you want to stop or run ahead of me, i’ll be okay with knowing that i still was able to be a part of your journey,” he finishes.

go big or go home right?

you can’t help but regret how much miscommunication had taken away from you, tearing up from his confessions, he gently wipes away your tears before they had the chance to fall. 

“you’re so stupid,” you say before connecting your lips on his in a soft kiss.

“i love you too,” you whisper and in that moment, all his worries melt away. his overthinking mind quiets as it focuses solely on those three simple words.  

he pulls you back in, lips entangling once again. you feel him smile as he deepened the kiss, hand making its way to your waist, as your’s found its way to his long hair.

“god, i’ve missed you so much,” he grunts, moving down to kiss your neck. you moan as he finds your sensitive spot, making sure to leave a mark. 

you pull him closer towards you, needing more of him, when you see it — your baby looking straight at you. 

“minho-,” you call out to him. 

“yes, love,” he asks, still littering kisses on you. 

in any other moment, the use of the pet name would’ve sent butterflies all over your stomach but right now all you could focus on was the doll's lifeless eyes. 

“-she’s staring at us,” you whisper. 

he pauses his actions and you quickly dart your eyes to your baby, minho following your line of vision. 

“woah...we’re her eyes always that big?” he asks quietly, head tilting in observation. 

“maybe we should take this somewhere else?,” you mumble, remembering the recorder that was strapped onto the doll. 

minho playfully smirks at you before grabbing your hand and leading you to your bedroom, “wait-,” you stop him. 

carefully, you lift your baby from her cradle, quietly making your way to the bathroom and gently placing her in the bathtub, far away from the bedroom, wary that the voice recorder could pick up the sounds you knew you and minho were about to make. 

“add this too,” minho whispers, handing you a blanket, making sure the baby didn’t fuss, before quietly sneaking into your room. 

— 

you wake up to the pretty boy next to you, fingers lightly tracing the contours of his sharp features, down to his soft pink lips, "good morning," he murmurs, causing you to quickly pull your hand back.

he smiles, “it’s okay, i know i’m too good looking to only be stared at,” he teases, earning a playful slap on the chest from you, your sweet giggles ringing in his ear, this was the best way to wake up. 

“i love you,” he says sweetly and your heart stops, you’re not really sure you could get over the effect those words had on you. 

“i love you too,” you reply, causing a grin to automatically break out on your boyfriend’s face. 

he leans in towards you, ready to kiss you when a startled cry interrupts the moment. 

“ughhhh,” your boyfriend groans, “i’ll get her,” he says, grumpily stomping off into the bathroom to soothe your baby. 

—

“well, your baby cried a total of 19 times, that leaves you with 81%,” professor alex discloses, handing you your grade. 

“a B-!?,” you shriek in disappointment. the baby cried a lot, sure, but she didn’t cry that much. though you weren’t too sure about the time you left her in the bathtub 

“hey, i thought we were gonna fail so this is pretty damn good,” minho chimes in positively. 

“this is the lowest grade i’ve ever gotten,” you cry out, banging your head down your desk, minho quick to place his hand where your forehead is about to fall, ensuring a soft and gentle landing. 

you turn your head towards him, lips pouting and he can’t help but chuckle at your actions. 

professor alex made his rounds, telling everyone their grades, “okay class, please say goodbye to your baby, then gently place them back in the box,” he instructed. 

minho takes the baby out of your stroller as you bid your goodbyes, “we never gave her a name,” you point out. 

“pleasee,” he responds with a grin, “all my baby names are reserved for when we actually have kids.”

“you have baby names for our future kids?,” you say in shock. 

“you don’t?,” he says, almost disgusted. 

“well…i do,” you smile teasingly as he mirrors your expression. 

“ok goodbye baby, thanks for getting mommy and i back together,” minho says, dripping with enthusiasm. 

“bye baby, i will not miss you but thank you!,” you say before you placed her back in the box. 

walking out of the classroom, hand in hand.

-

an: they do not care about that baby lmaooo, had so much fun with this request! thank you for reading <3, pls tell me what you think!

[janeyseymour]

Second Chances

Summary: Melissa isn't so sure about you- until you convince her to give you a second chance.

WC: ~2.35k

“Just try it!” Jacob Hill is currently pestering Melissa Schemmenti. “You never know what you might find on there.”

“If I say I’ll give it a shot, will you leave me the hell alone?” the redhead rolls her eyes from the other side of the couch.

“Yes!” the social studies teacher exclaims. “All of the men and women that you bring here for a one night stand always end up eating my cereal…” he mumbles.

“Fine. But if I have to do this, then you have to help me set it up.”

“Gladly.”

So that’s how the two unconventional roommates end up spending that Thursday night- setting up a dating profile for Melissa on Hinge.

“You can’t say that!” Jacob cuts in when the second grade teacher wants to write ‘Fuck the Cowboys’.

“I am not using that picture,” Melissa refuses when the man wants her to put a picture of herself in a rather provocative position. “I have standards, Hill.”

“Do you really think that’s the best thing to say?” Jacob can be heard asking at yet another questionable response to one of the prompts.

But finally, a relatively agreed on account is made. And then the daunting task of swiping left and right is upon the two of them. They seem to agree on what is suitable for the bachelorette and what isn’t- for the most part.

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Melissa mumbles at one point.

Jacob’s brows lift. “What? What’s wrong?”

“That’s my ex-husband,” the redhead mumbles. “Dumb ass.”

The social studies man thumbs through the profile. “Seriously, Mel Mel? You could’ve done so much better.”

“And that’s why we divorced.”

Eventually though, there are a few solid contenders. And you just so happen to be one of them.

On the other side of the screen, you come across Melissa’s profile. And wow- she’s- she’s gorgeous. You end up sending her a rose in hopes of your chances of her seeing you growing.

And she does see you. You can see that she ends up swiping right on you, and you take it upon yourself to attempt to start the conversation. You look through her account and see that one of her prompts leads her to admit that although she owns a guitar, she doesn’t really know how to play it. So, going off of that one little bit, you strike up conversation.

What if I told you that I’d teach you guitar? I’ve been playing for a while now.

“Jake,” Melissa sighs once he’s moved back to his spot.

“What? Did you get a match?”

“I got more than a match,” the redhead grins. “You know I still got it- Philly 11 and all. But… that one girl that we both agreed was beautiful swiped right and messaged.”

“What?!” the man gasps in his own trademarked way. “Well? What did she say?!”

The second grade teacher tosses her phone towards the social studies teacher. He just barely manages to catch it with a smile. And when he see the message, he begins to type.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Melissa’s eyes widen. “You gotta tell me what you’re typing before you se-” She hears the sent ringtone. “Jacob.”

“My finger slipped?” the man grins innocently as he tosses back the phone.

Green eyes look at the message, and Melissa has to admit that it isn’t nearly as bad as she was expecting. And with his witty remark, conversation between the two of you flows nicely.

It even carries into the next day, and then the day after that.

So, we’ve been talking for a few days now, you type out during your lunch break at work. And I usually suck at replying on this app.

Well, you’ve been doing a pretty good job with me, Melissa responds.

I’ve found that you’re the exception, you reply wittily. If you’d like, I can give you my number. But if you’re not ready for that, I respect it and can wait until I get to take you out to dinner to get your number.

Well, when and where are we going to dinner?

By the end of your lunch (and apparently her lunch period too, as you’ve learned she’s a teacher), you have a date planned for tomorrow for a happy hour.

I’m here, you text. Got us a table by the windows.

Just parked, Melissa tells you. Be there in a minute.

You clock her as soon as she comes into the restaurant. And she’s even more stunning in person than she was in the pictures. You didn’t think that was going to be possible.

“You made it,” you reply cheekily.

“You knew I was coming,” the redhead rolls those striking green eyes of her. It’s in this moment that you realize how sparkly her eyes are- how they’re filled with so many feelings, the golden speckles in her eyes appearing to shine brighter. Then she smiles brightly at you, and- wow. That smile could stop the world if it wanted to with the amount of charm it has to it.

The two of you end up talking for hours. She’s hilarious, and smart, and witty, and everything you could ever want in a partner. Not only is she absolutely beautiful, she has the brains to back it all up. And you let her know that.

“Well,” you chuckle as you’re getting ready to leave for the night. “I don’t know about you, but I had a really nice time tonight.”

“Same,” Melissa smiles at you.

“And if you would be up for it, I’d really like to see you again.”

When you think she’s about to agree with you, her lips quirk to the side a bit awkwardly. “I’m going to be upfront with you hun. I… I don’t know if I see this going anywhere romantically.”

“Oh.” You aren’t quite sure what to say.

“Don’t get me wrong hun. You’re great, and I really did have a nice time with you tonight. I just… I think I see you as more of a friend right now than a romantic partner.”

You take in a deep breath. You know you have to shoot your shot. “I respect that, but… hear me out?”

“Shoot.”

“I- I don’t make a lot of connections with people. And I think you’re… you’re really cool. You’re really pretty, and you have the brains to back it up. I haven’t met anyone like you in- in a really long time. So, give me one more chance- for you to realize that I’m the best date that you’re going to get off of Hinge,” you joke.

Green eyes look into your own. She holds her hands up. “Alright, you sold me on one more date.”

“Well, do you think I could get your number now? Or do I have to keep messaging you on Hinge?”

A perfectly manicured hand reaches for your phone and dials her number.

“Perfect,” you chuckle as you help her into her jacket and guide her out the door. “Where are you parked?”

“Down that way.” She points in the opposite direction of your car. “You?”

“Other side,” you laugh. “But I can walk you to your car if you want?”

Melissa shakes her head though. “I got it. Thanks though, hun.”

“Alright, Miss Independent,” you quip with a smirk. “Get home safe?”

“You do the same.”

And with that, the two of you part ways.

As you pull into your driveway, you text Melissa. Hey, I really did have a nice time tonight. That being said, if you really don’t want to go out a second time and were just saying okay to get me off your back, we don’t have to. I respect your decision.

No, I am a woman of my word, is the response you get back. I’ll give you one more chance- because I had a nice time tonight too.

Okay, you type. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t feeling pressured.

Trust me. If I didn’t want to go out with you again, I would’ve shot you down.

“So?” Jacob is eagerly waiting at the door to hear all about how her date with you went. “You were out with her for a while! That’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah,” Melissa smiles. “She’s cool. I don’t know if I really seeing it going anywhere more than friends, but… she’s cool. And hot as hell.”

“Well, is there going to be a second date?” the social studies teacher prompts.

The woman laughs. “She practically begged for one.”

“And you said?” Jacob singsongs.

“I said I’d give it one more chance.”

You end up getting to see the redhead that you’ve been talking to about a week later. Meeting at the same restaurant makes you chuckle, but it’s nice. It’s a place that both of you are comfortable.

The date ends up being just as long as your first. And as things are winding down, you can’t stop yourself from asking the question that you’ve been wanting to ask since hour two. 

“So, do you still see me as ‘just a friend’, or have I convinced you?” you tease with a warm smile.

“Honestly?” Melissa sighs out, and you feel like you know where this is going. “I don’t know how you did it, but you convinced me.”

You have to stop your jaw from dropping. “Really?”

“Really,” the redhead chuckles. “Why? Does that surprise you?”

“It does,” you admit.

“I’ll be really honest, I wasn’t expecting to still be here. I expected to be here an hour at most before letting you down easily, but… I don’t know. There’s something about you, and I can’t quite place it, but: yes, you changed my mind.”

“I mean, hey… I’ll take what I can get,” you giggle.

The redhead rolls her eyes playfully as she smirks at you. “Yeah, you do that. Don’t let it get to your head.”

The two of you leave the restaurant, and this time she actually allows you to walk her back to her car.

When you go to walk away though, that low, gruff voice that you’ve become almost infatuated with calls back for you. You turn sharply.

“Did you seriously park on the other side of the strip?”

You shrug.

“Come here,” Melissa tells you. “Dumb ass.”

You jog your way back to her car.

“Get in.”

“What?”

“I’m not letting you walk three blocks in this freezing cold weather,” the redhead tells you. “So get in.”

You listen to her order- of course you do.You would be foolish not too. And besides, her ordering you around like this? It’s hot.

You direct her to your car, and before you can climb out you turn to face her. “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” the teacher chuckles. “Maybe next time just park where you know I always park.”

“Noted,” you smile. And then in a bold move, you ask, “Can I- Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

Instead of answering your question, the redhead pulls you in herself. And… wow. When the two of you pull away, you can’t help the smile that washes over your face. You pull her in for yet another kiss, and it quickly turns into something a little more. Her hands begin to wander your body, and when you feel her fingers begin to play with the hem of your jeans, you know you have to put a stop to this.

“Mel,” you husk out as you pull away. “Mel.”

“What?”

“Not that I’m not enjoying this, but… I don’t want to be someone that you just hook up with on the second date,” you whisper.

Her hands retract themselves from your body immediately.

“I- I actually like and respect you,” you tell her. “I don’t want to- I mean, I do want to… but… uh…”

“I know what you’re trying to say,” Melissa chuckles. “I- I guess I just thought this was what you wanted, and I- I’m used to being used for my body.”

“No, no, no,” you rush out quickly. “I am not using you for your body. I meant what I said when I told you that yes, you’re beautiful, but you also have the brains to back it up, and I- I really like that.”

“I appreciate that,” the redhead tells you quietly. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you give her a sad smile back. “I’m sorry that you feel that people only use you for your body, but I promise you- that’s not me.”

“I believe you.”

“Good,” you reply shortly. “On that note-” you lean in and give her another quick kiss as you reach for the door. “Let me know when you get home? And when we can maybe see each other again?”

“I think I’d like that,” Melissa smiles. 

“You’re home late,” Jacob quips as he sits in the living room. “I thought you said you weren’t planning on staying out late with Y/N.”

“Well, plans change, Jacob,” the redhead mutters.

“So… you changed your mind about her?”

The second grade teacher smiles at the thought of what had taken place in her car about ten minutes ago. “Yeah.”

Melissa pulls out her phone to text you. Home. Thank you again for dinner tonight.

My pleasure, you reply. Glad you got home safe. Let me know when you can squeeze me into your schedule so I can see you again.

Will do.

“What’s got you smiling?” the history teacher inquires.

Green eyes go to glare at her roommate. “Nothin’. Just letting Y/N know I got back safely.” And when the man starts to ask another question, Melissa cuts him off. “No more questions. Goodnight.”

As the redhead prepares herself for bed that night, she can’t help but giggle with glee at how well the second date had went. She went from not being so sure about you, to almost being enamored with you and your charm and wit.

She sends one final text of the night. Without seeming too eager, I’m free next Tuesday.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead @schemmentits @morgananyx

[grlsinterrupted]

i hope your requests are open again but if not im so sorry!! but i was wondering if u could do a dallas winston x fem!reader where reader is having problems at home (her parents being shitty yk?) and she is just having a really bad day and shes on the verge of a break down but then dallas calls and says he needs bail but she cant bring herself to be angry or else she’ll finally break so she just agrees and goes to get him but he senses somethings wrong and tries to get her to talk to him and basically just a really really really soft dallas

sorry if thats too much😭❤️

but tysm i luv ur work🫶🏼

love is a gentle thing, your’s is thicker than a velvet ring ࿔*:･ﾟ

you’ve reached your breaking point | dallas winston x fem ! reader ⊹ ࣪ ˖

-

it’s insane how much a piece of paper dictates what you can do, what you can’t do, who you can talk to— your entire life, really. though it holds no monetary value, your report card has always seemed to define your self worth, and better yet, served as a constant reminder that you’ll never truly satisfy your parents. no matter how many hours you spent slaving away on your assignments, fighting back the urge to fall asleep right on your desk, your dedication will never be enough.

a thick silence fills the room, the only sound coming from the faint chirping of crickets and the rhythm of your rugged breathing. you’re seated on the corner of your bed, your hands shaking as you grapple onto the edges of your report card. the paper is crinkled, stained with tears and remnants of your mascara smeared across the letter ‘b+.’ the memory of your mother lecturing you about your grades replays in your head like a song you want to unhear. one single letter was enough to spiral you into a loop of madness. suddenly, the silence is broken by a ringing phone. you flinch, reaching over your nightstand to answer it.

you clear your throat, sniffling. “hello?”

a familiar voice huffs out a chuckle behind the phone. it didn’t take you long to realize that this accented tone belonged to none other than your boyfriend, dallas. “hey, doll. y’know how the fuzz are, they’ve been on my ass all week.”

“dal? are you seriously calling me from jail?” your voice is shaky as you bite back your tears, the report card’s weight heavy on your lap. despite how desperately you needed to cry, right now wasn’t the time. you’ve gathered all the composure remaining in you to deal with dallas’ reckless behavior.

“listen, i’m g’na need a couple bucks for bail. you’d do that for me, wouldn’t ya?”

all you can do is sigh. of course he’d called you for bail. even though you wanted to blow up at him over the phone and tell him to pay for his own bail, you couldn’t bring yourself to be angry at him. you were just as troubled as he was, if not, worse— the only difference being that you prioritized your future more than he ever would.

“sure, whatever. i’ll just- i’ll drive there right now. don’t do anything while i’m gone.”

dallas grazes his bloody knuckles against his a bruise on his cheekbone, wincing. somehow, he’d gotten into a fight with a soc while he was walking to buck’s place. granted that you’ve been silent the entire time, he could sense something was wrong with you— the way your eyes have lost that little sparkle in them, the way your head tilted downwards as the two of you walked out of the police station, and most of all, the fact that you didn’t even hug him once he was released.

despite the amount of times dallas has tried to reisist your post-jail hugs, they’re all he looks forward to while he’s stuck in his cell. your hugs blanket him with a sense of security— the kind of security he’s never had. without that subtle gesture, he felt as though a part of him was missing.

“you’ve been awfully quiet.” dallas mutters under his breath, looking down at you.

you shrug, shaking your head. “i never noticed.”

“yeah, but ya know what i notice?” he pockets his hands. “sum’s wrong with ya.”

you can feel your throat begin to close up as you reply. “nothing’s wrong, dal,” your voice begins to tremble as you tell yourself, do not cry in front of your boyfriend. “let’s just go home, now. i’m tired.”

“are ya mad at me for getting into a fight?” he raises a brow, nudging you with his shoulder. “‘cause if you are, he came onto me first.”

something in you snaps, emotions overflowing like a dam bursting. the stray tear that you’ve been fighting to hold back runs down your cheek. you’ve finally reached your limit. “i’m not mad at you for that! well- i am, but i’m just.. i’m stressed, okay?! everyone is stressing me out!”

dallas goes silent for a second, just watching you shatter in front of him. once he replies, his voice immediately softens. “y’know you can talk to me about anythin’, right?”

you gulp, wiping away the tear as you nod.

dallas runs a hand through his hair, biting the inside of his lip almost as if he’s hesitant to say something. he then begins to speak up.

“you forgot somethin’.”

he pulls you into a warm embrace, brushing his fingers through the strands of your hair as you cry into his arms. this time, the hug is offering you that sense of security that dallas yearns for. you’re finally safe in his arms, safe from all of the expectations set on you.

‘love is a gentle thing, your’s is thicker than a velvet ring ..’ .ᐟ ₊˚⊹♡

-

[lionhanie]

study with boynextdoor! (ot6 hc + drabbles)

….ranked from best to worst study buddies 😅

classmate!boynextdoor x gn!reader (college au)

word count: 3.4k (~500-700 each)

warnings: TW SCHOOL 👎, written in lowercase, there’s a curse word here and there…, No Beta We Die Like Men (not proofread very well lmao)

a/n: wrote this while i was procrastinating studying for my final exams :,) soooo these r self indulgent hoohohoh ... enjoy :3

reblogs ↺  + feedback always appreciated!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･sungho

tbh i feel like he’s the type to not study and just. be perfect idk 

sungho pays attention in class so he doesn’t feel the need to review extensively before the exam … COULD NOT BE ME!!!!

with that being said tho, he’s the perfect tutor ^_^

sungho will definitely be right by your side as you’re doing the exam review packet, waiting to see if you get stumped on a particular question 

when you do, he walks you through the steps you got stuck on, making sure you /actually/ understand the content rather than just doing whatever he tells you to do

and if he isn’t able to be physically there with you, he will literally be on standby bc he’s so used to you calling him for help the night before the exam :,) 

he is SO patient too. especially because he sees how hard you’re working and he just wants to see all of your hard work pay off 

sometimes you’ll feel bad because you feel like you’re taking up too much of his time just because you don’t understand the material 

but he’s so quick to reassure you about it all bc he genuinely doesn’t mind, and he will MAKE SURE you know that 

✐ᝰ

you place your head into your hands for the nth time that night, groaning at the way you can’t seem to memorize the right definitions. sungho chuckles from the other side of the phone, knowing exactly how you look despite not being able to see you right now. “everything okay over there?”

“i’ve been studying for so long and it still doesn’t make any sense,” taking a look at the time, you realize it’s later than you expected. “you know, you really don’t need to help me study right?” 

“how many times do i have to tell you that–”

“yeah, i know you don’t mind, but i always feel bad keeping you awake any later than you need to be.” of course you’d take all the help you could get, but you don’t have it in you to hold him hostage again for the sake of your grade. “...goodnight, sungho!” you end the call before he has any chance to reassure you any further.

…you’re not surprised when you get a knock on your door 20 minutes later, opening it to see sungho with a bunch of snacks in one hand and his backpack slung over his shoulder. “are you still going to turn me down after i went through all the trouble of coming over?” 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ jaehyun

he’s so annoying to study with (endearingly) but i feel like a study sesh with him would guarantee you are getting a good grade on your exams

since he’s so hardworking i feel like he’d immediately call you out if you were getting sidetracked when you weren’t supposed to be 

or if he doesn’t…. him being Ultra Locked In only makes You feel like you Also need to be Ultra Locked In

it’s honestly kind of scary how On Top Of Business jae can be when he needs to study…. bc he’s normally pretty hyper Every Other Time, you didn’t know he was capable of being so quiet for an extended period of time

it’s suuuuper impressive how seriously he takes his studies though… sometimes you’ll stop him when you have a question about something and he’ll explain it with EASE before immediately getting back into the zone

bad news for yappers because jaehyun is NOT entertaining the conversation unless he is Also taking a break. if anything he might even be the type to side-eye the people being too loud in the library because he doesn’t want them to distract you 

honestly though it’ll probably help you get a lot more done 

even though he studies like his life depends on it, i think he’s really good when it comes to balancing the work so your brain isn’t fried too quickly

i fully believe he will like. have some weird ass Study “Hacks” that lowkey make no sense but you entertain them bc he’s a cutiepatootie :3 

✐ᝰ

the rustling from the other side of the table takes your attention away from your laptop, taking off one earbud before asking the boy across from you what he was doing. jaehyun doesn’t turn to answer, instead continuing to dig through the various compartments of his backpack for who knows what. “you know about superfoods and stuff?”

“...yeah? what does that have to do with what we’re studying though?” you let out a soft laugh, unsure about where he’s going with this conversation. 

“well, i heard that if you eat five almonds everyday it makes you smarter. there was a study on it and everything, i swear.” you raise your eyebrow at his words, finding it hard not to roll your eyes at the ridiculous “fact” he just proposed. moments later, he’s plopping a ziploc bag full of almonds in the middle of the table, looking incredibly satisfied with himself. 

you watch as he counts five almonds for the both of you, motioning for your hand to pass your portion over. “why don’t we just eat a ton of almonds so we become geniuses?” you move to reach for the bag to grab more, before he snatches it away from you. 

“no, we can’t do that. the limit is five almonds, or else it starts reversing the effects,” jaehyun tosses an almond into the air and catches it with his mouth. “or something like that, i didn’t actually read the study.” he grins at you from his side of the table, making you laugh in disbelief before resuming your work, almonds by your side.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ taesan

personally i think taesan is the type to just. periodically check in from time to time while you’re studying

he seems like the type to focus best when he’s completely in his own space, so he wants to give you that same space (especially if he’s working on music, he doesn’t want to bother you with the noise) 

….but that doesn’t mean he’s completely ignoring you while you’re out in the living room hunched over all your papers

he’d probably ask if you wanted to do the pomodoro method with him LMFAOOO like. you do work for 50 minutes and then u get a 10 min break

it honestly helps make the work go by faster bc you’re just looking forward to your next break w/ him :,) 

when the fifty minutes is up and it’s time for both of your breaks, he’s so excited to come out of his room and just Recharge with you. simply seeing you quite literally gives him enough energy to go back to whatever he’s currently working on 

if he found you too burnt out from studying for so long, he’d make an exception to his rules & he’d let you take a longer break bc he knows how much effort you’ve been putting into prepping for your tests 

✐ᝰ

you were only halfway into your fifty-minute work interval, but taesan could sense something was wrong when he left his room to get some water. instead of taking notes like you were earlier, your pen was left abandoned on the side of your textbook as you frowned down onto the blur of words you were trying to take in. 

taesan knows how hard it is to keep working when you hit a mental roadblock– he knows how badly you need to study right now, but it’ll be no use trying to force yourself when you clearly need to step away. he peeks around the corner, clearing his throat to catch your attention. 

“hm?” you tilt your head as you look up from your notebook, frustration clearly written all over your face. it almost pains him to see you so stressed over exams. “is it time for break already? i could’ve sworn i just started–”

“maybe you just got so into it that you didn’t realize how much time passed,” he bluffs, walking up to the table. “do you want to see what i’ve been working on? i feel like i need a second opinion on it, something isn’t quite right with the melodies.” 

taesan finds it cute how your face lights up immediately; you were clearly looking for any excuse to walk away from your work, but you knew you’d feel guilty if you had no good reason to do so. since taesan really needs your help, it’s fine… right? 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ leehan 

idk something makes me feel like leehan just dgaf LOLOLOL but he’s definitely not going to bother you much unless you’re taking a break or something

i don’t think he puts too much effort into studying but he’s definitely just going to be in your general vicinity so you don’t get too lonely looking at your computer screen for so long… he’s just there in spirit

if u were in the same class & u asked him what Something Meant… he genuinely could not tell you unless it was about a topic he was actually interested in. bro just has his laptop open to feel included yk

i think he’d be the type to see you frustrated over whatever concept you can’t seem to get right & literally Make You take a break so you can clear your mind 

you didn’t realize it while you were too focused on doing work, but he’s constantly been catering to your every need so you don’t get distracted

like he made sure your water bottle was refilled every time you finished it

turned up the heat in the apartment when he noticed you shivering

opening curtains so the sun lights up your workspace n makes it less stuffy :,)

i totally see him as the type to stay up as long as you are, even if he isn’t studying with you

again. just the idea of him wanting to keep you company so you don’t feel lonely ARRGHHHHH

like maybe he’s just sitting at the table w/ you as he watches u do work (like a freako) ((I need him so bad))

even if he falls asleep in the process… at least he’s nearby in case you need him…. (he wakes up every now and then to make sure you’re doing OK) 

✐ᝰ

you can’t help but turn around when you hear all the commotion your friend (he’s in love w/ you btw) is currently making in the kitchen behind you. sensing your gaze, he looks back slowly, giving you a sheepish smile. “i know i’m being loud, but i’m doing this for you, okay?”

before you get the chance to question what he meant, he’s balancing a tray in his hands as he makes his way over to your desk. it’s adorned with anything you could possibly want during your study session– a steaming cup of tea, a plate of fresh fruit cut into cute shapes, a bag of your favorite chips, some of the gummies you two were sharing earlier, and even a bottle of painkillers for the eventual headache you’ll get from looking at the screen for too long. 

you could honestly cry; it wasn’t a grand gesture, but you’ve been so overwhelmed trying to meet all the deadlines you’d made for yourself recently that you’ve been neglecting your own needs in the process. leehan’s clearly proud of himself as he takes a seat next to you, resting his head on his palm as he watches you. “you’re not gonna study with me?” you question, popping a piece of fruit into your mouth as you look at him. after all, you did ask to study together. 

“i was kind of hoping being next to you while you reviewed would transfer all the knowledge to me.” his eyes turn to crescents as he grins at you. you guess that works too.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ riwoo

riwoo would prefer to do work specifically at home bc he likes to be comfy if he’s gonna spend a majority of the day studying

with this being said tho… he’s restless. he moves every hour bc it claims it helps him focus if he changes up his surroundings every once in a while 

def going to put on some music and maybe light some candles so you aren’t too miserable trying to learn so much content the day before the exam … he’s all for setting the vibes PERFECT for the study sesh

i like to think riwoo has like. a system he uses to keep the both of you motivated while studying (i do this. im projecting) 

like…. if you both get the next 10 practice problems right… you can share the slice of cake waiting in fridge LOL or maybe if you finish writing one more paragraph of your essay, then you can go lay in bed for seven minutes idk i think he’d be really random with it

riwoo always says that you guys are gonna take a “short” break but it usually ends up 3x longer than you intended

he’d say “maybe we should take the dogs for a walk to get a breather before getting back to work”

and then you come back 40 minutes later bc you two got distracted letting daebak and jangyi play with all the other dogs in the park T_T

he’s 100% the type to try and discreetly watch tiktok or something when you’re both supposed to be doing work and it plays on full volume (woonhak would too but he would not try to hide it)

honestly i feel like he’d get tired of his own studies at some point, but i know he’d stay with you to help you review or just to encourage you to keep going <3 

✐ᝰ

you’re welcomed with warm lighting and the sweet aroma of a seasonal candle as riwoo opens his front door, daebak in his arms and jjangyi wandering around the room behind him. it’s a familiar environment; you’ve gotten used to doing work with riwoo in the comfort of his own home, finding it much easier to focus there than any of the popular study spots on campus. 

you’re sitting at the dining table, one paragraph of your essay on the verge of completion. riwoo is sprawled across the couch, his laptop laying haphazardly on his chest as he swipes across the trackpad. “do you remember that takeout place we passed by last week? i was thinking we should order some later once we get hungry!” 

“...are you looking at the menu right now?”

“well, no…” you glance at him from your seat, clearly doubtful. “...okay, maybe i am. i can’t focus when all i can think about is how good it smelled walking by the place!” he groans, shutting his laptop and placing it on the coffee table beside him before moving to a more comfortable position on his couch. 

he’s so quiet that you almost forget he’s there when you’re locked into your essay, snapped out of your zone when he sighs dramatically, not having moved an inch since you last looked at him. you’re not sure why he’s the one in distress when he hasn’t touched his laptop in nearly forty minutes. 

“y/nnnnn…. i don’t wanna study for my classes,” you don’t have it in you to scold him, especially when he’s the one letting you work at his place to begin with, but you can’t just let him do nothing the whole time. “can you take a break so i don’t die of boredom over here?”

“okay, how about you come over here and help me proofread my paper, then we can get food once i finish?” he makes his way over to you, using his socks to slide across the wooden floors in the process, more than happy to occupy himself with something if it meant he got to hang out with you afterwards!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ woonhak

finals season with woonhak honestly seems like it would be hell LMFAOOOOOO

genuinely i think he’s the last person i’d ask to study just because i feel like procrastinator x procrastinator is a DEAD END!!!

no shade but the chances of both of you locking in at the same time are little to NONE.

trying to be accountability buddies for each other genuinely doesn’t work because. he just doesn’t want to study ☠️

bro is definitely trying to convince you that you don’t need to study (you desperately do)

and even IF…. you guys both start working…. it genuinely doesn’t last long LOLOLOL

woonhak literally cannot shut the hell up when he’s doing work for some reason. everything needs to have some sort of commentary, even if you guys aren’t even studying for the same class

if you didn’t also Need To Study, it’d be pretty funny to hear him complaining about getting every other question wrong…. and his periodic comments are NOT helping 😭

but bc of that i think he’s the most willing to stay up late with you to study just because you wasted so much time doing Who Knows What that you both feel like you need to pull an all nighter if you want to pass that test YIKES

u eventually both feel SO GUILTY bc you wasted so much time doing NOTHING productive and it’s already 11pm…. guess you have to make up for it by ACTUALLY being productive until 4am . . . .

the urgency finally kicks in and you actually ARE clocked tf in until you’re literally forced to get out of the library

✐ᝰ

the security guard working the front desk at the library gives the two of you a quizzical look as you walk through the doors at 11:37pm, whereas most of the other students tend to wrap up their studies around this time. this wasn’t out of the ordinary for you and woonhak– you knew what you were getting yourself into when you first texted him asking him if he was free to study earlier in the day. 

just a couple hours ago, the two of you were seated on the floor of his dorm, pages of notes sprawled across the carpet in a pathetic attempt to try and make a game plan for a semesters-worth of material you had to learn before the final tomorrow. it was almost laughable the way neither of you could make sense of the content in front of you. 

“how is it that we’ve gone to every lecture and we still don’t know what’s going on?” it’s a useless question, given that neither of you are capable of providing any sort of explanation. 

“have you seen that video where they rub their notes on their heads to try and send the information to your brain–”

“woonhak, you know that doesn’t actually work, right?”

“right. i just wanted to know if you saw it too. haha.” there’s an air of silence between you two as you both realize how screwed you actually are for the test, but nobody dares to speak it into existence. “should we go to the arcade before we start studying?”

…and that’s how you found yourself set up in one of the booths in the far corner of the library (obviously after wasting three hours and twenty bucks at the claw machines), the tabletop adorned with a jumbled mix of your shared review problems, scrap paper balled up in a growing pile, and two freshly-opened energy drinks.  you’re both lucky that the library doesn’t close for another couple hours, you needed all the time you could get to try and burn the information into your brains. 

when you walk out of the exam room, seeing woonhak laying on a bench outside & using his backpack as a makeshift pillow as he waits for you to finish, you can’t help at chuckle at the look of defeat on his face. it’s funny the way your eye bags match his own; you’ve definitely seen each other at your lowest at this point. 

“so…how do you think you did?”

“can we talk about this after i take a nap at your dorm for, i don’t know, three days?”

“deal.”

© lionhanie 2025 ; all rights reserved!

[smoft-demons]

hey hey! I really like your writing :) I have a request for the brothers:

gn!mc who has trouble sleeping alone bc of nightmares. they can very rarely sleep but are great at hiding it, because they don’t want to bother anybody. they never notice because mc always sleeps fine during sleepovers??? until eventually the lack of sleep gets to them too much and it becomes too noticeable. how do they respond when mc (reluctantly) reveals the truth?

thank you and have a lovely day ❤️

Good prompt! I like this one :)

(This one took a good few hours! Hope you like it!)

MC has nightmares when they sleep alone

_______

Lucifer:

‘…something’s amiss with our human.’ Lucifer thinks.

He’s been observing them lately. Since he cracked down on his brothers sneaking into their room at night—in order to give the poor human a break, so they may rest well and have time to study for the upcoming wave of tests—they’ve been… sluggish. More forgetful. Their assignments are coming back notably worse. He was irritated at first, but when he brought them into his office to confront them about it, he couldn’t ignore how… off they seemed.

Lucifer sets his irritation with their slipping standards aside, in favour of concern. He is above petty reactions, he decides. No, he is reasonable enough to see that there must be a cause for this.

“MC. I did not call you here to berate you. I am not angry with you. Something is obviously wrong. Please, I cannot help you until you tell me what it is.”

You’re not sure if it’s the jarringly unmasked concern in his eyes, or the rising feeling of guilt for stressing him out more than usual that finally cracks your resolve.

Whatever it is, you confide in him. You tell him that you’ve not been sleeping well. He pries the reason out of you, by pointing out his observations about the timing.

Begrudgingly, you admit to having nightmares when you try to sleep alone.

Outwardly, he remains businesslike and practical as always. In his mind, he’s facepalming. In retrospect, the signs are all there! How did he not notice??

He feels just a bit sorry, too. In his attempt to help you, he directly made everything worse. What a great job he’s done…

Then he snaps out of it and steels himself. There’s no use dwelling on that! He can fix this. Very, very easily!

“I see. Then, sleep in my room tonight. I will ensure no nightmares bother you. Once you’ve recovered enough to learn again, I will help you bring your grades back up to your usual standard. Is this satisfactory?”

He refuses to hear any guilt from you about imposing, or taking up his time, or being a burden.

“I am choosing to carry you, MC. There’s no burden.”

From that point on, you’re always welcome in his bed. On the rare occasion that he isn’t home and none of his brothers can sleep over with you, he lends you his coat to sleep under. The familiar scent of him that clings to it is better than nothing.

_______

Mammon:

…Okay, at this point, he HAS to pry. Mammon is one of the first to notice that you’ve not exactly been well lately. You’re being unusually scatterbrained, clumsy, and spacey. You don’t have any energy. It’s obvious to him that there’s a sleep issue! He’s more observant than he looks, ya know!

Now that he thinks of it, these traits are not THAT out of character for you. They’re not usually this bad though!

…shit, does that mean you’re usually sleep deprived? That’s not good. Well! You’re HIS human, and he loves you lots and takes your well being very seriously, as much as he hates to say it out loud. So, he commits himself to figuring this out!

Evening comes. Mammon follows you into the hall leading towards your room. You bash your hip against a wall corner and almost fall to the floor as you dizzily stumble, trying to catch yourself. Mammon grabs you to steady you. Yeah, at this point he has to pry.

“Be careful, human! Seriously, you’d break all your lil toothpick bones without the great Mammon around to protect ya! What’s up with that, huh?”

You trust him of course, but… you’re embarrassed. You don’t want to tell him.

He clicks his tongue impatiently. You don’t say anything. He grabs you by the shoulders and steers you into his room. He pushes you down to sit on his bed.

“C’mon, MC. Talk to me. Your first man is here to help!”

“…”

“…please?”

Now, that… almost does it. You feel bad for being stubborn. You know he’s worried, and chaotic as he can be, he’s proven himself as a very good guardian demon time and time again. You take a deep breath, gathering your resolve.

You take just a bit too long. Mammon groans.

“I’m very annoying, yknow. I’ll get it outta ya somehow!”

Mammon pokes your cheeks, gently shakes you, tugs lightly at your hair, as he demands that you talk to him.

“Tell me, tell me tell me tell me tell me, c’mooooon humaaan, tell me!”

‘Oh, fucking fine!’ You think. You confide in him.

He’s mildly tempted to be like, ‘was that really so hard,’ but he won’t. He’s far more concerned than annoyed with you. He feels bad about all the super late nights out he’s been having lately. He wants to always be there for you! Him having missed something like this has him mentally kicking his own ass.

Mammon puts all that aside for now, though. He roots around in a drawer to get two pairs of his old, worn and comfy sweatpants, plus an old tshirt, faded and worn soft from use. He throws the shirt and one of the sweatpants at you

“Go brush your teeth and change, then come right back. We’re having an early night.”

When you return, he locks his door, then puts you back in his bed. He’s changed into the other pair of sweatpants. Mammon wraps himself around you as much as he can, as if to bodily shield you from the nightmares, then pulls his blanket over both of you.

“Sleep, human. No nightmares’ll DARE mess with you now. Not while I’m here. I’ll protect ya.”

Having him so close to you feels like home. Nothing else has ever felt so safe. You sleep deeply, for hours longer than you have in a while.

(Mammon is never letting you sleep alone again)

_______

Levi:

As much as Levi doesn’t want to bother you, he’s getting worried. You’re performing WAY worse at your video games than usual! You’re missing so many inputs! He knows your usual skill level, this game should be a relaxing walk in the park for you! He’s too worried to even make fun of you!

“Ok, that’s it! I can’t take it anymore! What happened to you, normie?? Are you sick?? Do you… not want to play with me? What’s happening??”

He’s worked himself into a panic. You know he’s sensitive enough right now to take it personally if you don’t confide in him. So fine! You’ll talk!

You’ll talk… auuugh, you can’t get the words out! You’re too self conscious about it. Fuck it. You take your DDD out of your pocket and send him a text.

>not been sleeping well. Nightmares. So tired, can’t pretend anymore! >:( Nothing personal, promise!

Levi reads the text. He chews the inside of his cheek for a long moment, thinking. Then he snaps to attention, looking at you with intense determination.

“We can’t have that! I need my player two in optimal condition! There’s no other way for us to win at any games!”

Levi resorts to his old faithful: relaxing slice of life anime! He makes a big pile of pillows and blankets on the floor, arranging them into an MC-and-Levi sized nest. It’s late enough into the evening that it’s reasonable enough to try to put you to sleep.

If just the anime and the blankets and the being in his room isn’t enough to knock you out, he’ll shyly inch over to you to hold your hand. Blushing and looking away from you because he’s shy, but he’ll do it.

If you ask him—or just look sad and cute enough—he’ll even curl up behind you in the blanket-nest and hold you. Levi won’t have ANYTHING hurting his Henry, not if he can do anything about it!

He doesn’t mind holding you all night like this. The fact that you’re asleep helps, he’s not shy when you’re not perceiving him. The anime he’s still watching is helping too. It’s a good distraction.

_______

Satan:

As soon as he started to get the feeling something was wrong with you, he began watching you intently. He’s sharp, so he would have caught this very early on.

He can’t help but have a little fun with this investigation at first, thinking of it as detective work.

Soon though, he gets concerned. You’re irritable, you’re not retaining information or remembering small things as well, you’re clumsier and less generally aware… all dangerous things to be in this realm.

He doesn’t need you to tell him what’s wrong. He puts it together himself. He knows you sleep just fine with him, he knows you seem well rested after sleepovers with any of his brothers too. Clearly it’s not general insomnia. He also knows that the usual frequent sleepovers haven’t been happening for a while now.

When he confronts you, he doesn’t start with asking questions. He lays out all the evidence he’s collected and states his guesses as to the cause.

He tells you he has concluded it’s most likely to be any of these causes: loneliness, separation anxiety, touch deprivation, nightmares, stress-induced insomnia. He asks you to tell him which it is, if it’s more than one, if it’s something else?

He’s so clinical about it, you pretty much forget to be self conscious. All you have to do is confirm that it’s nightmares and they only happen when you sleep alone.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he says, regardless of how little you’ve actually told him. “You’re more than welcome to sleep over with me any time. You don’t even have to ask. Just tell me that you’re sleeping over.”

That evening, he leads you into his room. He lies on his back, book in hand, and beckons you to lie on top of him.

He guides your head to rest in the crook of his neck. He balances his book against your shoulders, holding it with one hand. The other wraps around your waist, his thumb rubbing your side soothingly, and he begins to read aloud to you.

His voice and his warmth soothe you to sleep. Not a single nightmare dares touch you.

Asmo:

The first thing Asmo notices is the darkened circles under your eyes.

“Oh, my darling! Your skin!” He gasps, genuinely horrified. “Come, we can do better than that. Let your Asmo take care of you~”

As he often does, Asmo brings you to his room for a spa day. Evening. Night. It’s late.

He smooths moisturizer into your skin, using all the appropriate human-safe products for revitalizing you when you’re tired. He gets a helpful mask on you, then one for him too. As you wait for it to dry, he asks you what’s up.

“Can’t sleep, lovely? You know, if you’re restless I can always tire you out~”

You roll your eyes and elbow him lightly. You expected nothing less from Asmo. Knowing him as well as you do, it’s more endearing than bothersome. You know he’s showing you that he cares.

“Offer’s always open, darling!” He giggles. “But, is there anything else I could do for you? Need to get something off your chest? Or just some good company, hmm?”

Asmo’s really sweet. It’s easy to open up to him—or, as easy as opening up gets. He massages your hand in silence as you gather your resolve to confide in him.

He listens sympathetically. Nodding and humming encouragingly at all the right points as you speak. Squeezing your hand when you need support. Just… being the emotionally intelligent sweetheart that Asmo always is with you.

“You’re welcome to sleep here, love. Nothing you don’t want will happen, of course. Now, let me wash that mask off you, then we can snuggle if you like.”

He washes off the mask, touching you very tenderly as he does. He takes his time gently washing the product off your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb affectionately. He gives you a little forehead kiss when your face is clean as his thanks for trusting him.

He lets you lead on how much contact you want. He really just wants to help. He’s happiest if you choose to cuddle with him, but he’s totally chill with just holding your hand, or even just lying next to you. He’s awesome like that.

No matter what you choose, the familiar perfume of Asmo’s room and the reassuring rhythm of his breathing lulls you to sleep. It feels safe.

You sleep really well. Asmo really is the best.

Beel:

Beel understands nightmares. He gets them too. He spots the signs easily, familiar as they are to him.

All he has to do is spot the haunted look in your eyes when he sees you before breakfast. Very distracted he usually is at that time, yes, but he loves you. He pays attention to you. He notices it pretty quick.

He can’t help but wonder why you haven’t approached him about it. Hasn’t he demonstrated to you that nightmares in particular are a thing he’s safe for you to confide in about? He’s not going to take it personally, but he IS going to worry.

He keeps an ear trained on your room whenever he goes into the kitchen at night. Carefully listening for any signs of distress.

After a few nights of this, he gives into his impulse and goes to check on you after his midnight snack. He brings you something he knows you like.

He’s not surprised to find you awake.

“Hey.” He says through a mouthful of his own food. “Want a snack?” He comes in to put it in your hands as soon as you acknowledge him.

The two of you eat together, sitting quietly on your bed side by side. Beel’s careful not to drop any crumbs.

You remain quiet even after all traces of snacks are eliminated.

“Nightmares?” Beel asks gently, looking at you with those irresistible soft worried puppy eyes he does. You can’t lie to him. You’re not a monster!

You nod. He hums sympathetically, looking genuinely saddened on your behalf. He gets it.

“Want a hug?” He offers

You press yourself into his side. He wraps one very big arm around you, and you melt into him like warm mozzarella. His solid presence is reassuring. You feel so safe with him. You’re already starting to drift as he rubs your shoulder with one large thumb.

“Would it help if I stay?” Beel murmurs to you.

You nod again.

So Beel picks you up, settling himself in your bed with you and arranging you comfortably in his arms.

He starts softly stroking your hair. Trying to help you relax more.

“Thanks for letting me help you.” Beel says earnestly. It’s obvious that he really means it. He’s grateful you’re trusting him with this. He’s very happy that you’re accepting his comfort, because he wants nothing more than to help you and protect you.

He’s good at that. Being comforting. Helpful and protective—that’s Beel.

You drift off peacefully, with nothing on your mind except the sleep-blurred sentiment of feeling grateful for him, too.

Belphie:

Without question, Belphie is the first one to notice that you’re having nightmares. Sleep is his main thing!

You only get to have one bad night before he steps in. He drags you up to the attic to nap with you right after school. No nightmares happen, of course, because you’re not sleeping alone. Belphie congratulates himself on a job well done!

…wait. Again?? He finds himself aware that you’re having another nightmare that night, hours later when you’re trying to sleep by yourself. Fuck sake.

He goes to your room. You snap awake at the disturbance. Without a word, he pours himself into your bed, draping across you like a clingy cat and going right back to sleep.

Bit rude. But this is helpful. You go back to sleep too, and have no nightmares. Good job, Belphie.

Then the next night, it happens again!! Mildly vexed at the persistent issue, he does the same thing as last night.

The next evening, he doesn’t let you go to bed alone to begin with. He goes with you, staying just aware enough that he can snipe your nightmares before they get a chance to terrorize you—but… none happen? Huh. Wild. Okay.

The next night, he finally asks you what the deal is. You hesitate to tell him. Belphie has no qualms about annoying the information out of you, if his initial blunt concern isn’t enough to get you to talk. If you don’t crack, he’ll try tickling you until you talk to him. If you STILL don’t crack, he’ll sic Beel and his concerned puppy eyes on you. No one can resist Beel’s concerned puppy eyes. Especially not when it’s BOTH twins looking at you like that!

Resistance is futile. You reluctantly tell him that you have nightmares only when you sleep alone.

He mentally slaps himself. Obviously!

He was prepared to use any of his avatar of sloth abilities necessary to cure you of your nightmares—and he still is—but he’s happy (and secretly endeared) to learn that the cure is nothing more than his presence. Less work for him! Less work, AND a good excuse to steal you away for naps all the time! Two of his favourite things!

Belphie is never letting you sleep alone again. No, you’ll either be together in your room, together in his and Beel’s room, or together in the attic.

He’ll make an exception for sleepovers with his other brothers too if you miss them. You’re so lucky he loves you.

[ethereallyjade]

Pick a Card: How Will Next Semester Go?

Choose a photo that calls to you and the cards will tell you a message. As always, this is just for fun. Do not take anything seriously or above legal or medical advice. If you're interested in personal tarot readings and want to support me, check out my Paid Readings! Masterlist

1 - 4

Images are not mine

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝟙

It's gonna be real smooth. You're getting it all put together. I'm sensing that many of you may be graduating this semester. Older sibling/senior energy. There's a sense of everything finally coming together or something wrapping up nicely. Something is finished. I'm hearing 'Good riddance!' Signed, sealed, and delivered!

Your grades are going to be gorgeous. There's some kind of celebration, lots of smiling. You're going to feel very happy and abundant this upcoming semester. You'll have all your ducks in a row and feel very ready for whatever is next for you.

ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝟚

I'm getting a kinda ridged energy here, but you guys will make it through. You might have a really hard class this semester, but I'm seeing that the thing that's standing in your way the most is yourself. Do not be afraid to ask for help: talk to your teachers, find tutors, watch youtube videos, etc. Put the time in. But most of all, don't allow negative thinking to get in your way. Don't tell yourself that you're gonna fail or that you can't do it, especially before the class even starts. That kind of self talk feels like nothing in the moment, but if you keep doing it it will affect you in the long run and not only adds unnecessary stress on you but can lead to other disorders. So, like, nip in before it gets out of hand.

Give yourself the chance, do your best. You might not get the grade you want, but you will pass this class or whatever it may be. Things might start rough or confusing, but I'm seeing that you'll start catching on towards the end. So, just put in that extra work when you can and you'll be fine.

ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝟛

Similar to the last group, things might be a struggle at first, but you will catch on fast. Are some of you doing something new? A freshman? I keep seeing a young person going into college for the first time. Like, they didn't take things seriously, they were partying, going out to eat too much, hanging with friends, not doing homework, but then something happens and they're like 'Oh sh*t, this is real.' Can you relate to this? I'm seeing that you're gonna get hit with that wave of 'Oh, I actually have to lock in this time around.' There will be no avoidance or immature behavior this semester. The cards are saying to start getting your sh*t together lmao.

Not to wish bad fortune on any of you, but I'm really getting the sense of like... you will fail if you don't put in the effort. Like, go talk with your advisors, talk to your teachers, get a calendar. Everything you need to succeed is right in front of you, but no one can help you if you never ask. Watch your spending habits, don't cheat, do your homework, surround yourself with supportive good people, organize you work and time. This semester is really what you make it.

ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝟜

I'm seeing giddy, more energetic, friends, and fun. This is a more laid back semester. You've been working hard, been very mature in your schooling so far, and I'm seeing that you'll just be reaping the rewards from your past efforts. Maybe you'll be working on a passion project or doing an internship. Something that doesn't feel like real work, because you'll be so into it. You'll be feeling stable and calm this semester, feeling accomplished and just better.

You might be getting more popular. I keep seeing that kind of student that walks into any room or class and just knows somebody. If that's not you, you might just be a familiar face to a lot of people because they've seen you all over campus or at events. Either way, others are starting to recognize you for something. If you don't have good and supportive friends already, you might find them this semester.

[jenscx]

[01] tumblr girls — first and last

it was cliché; being in love with danielle marsh, the straightest girl on earth. you thought your feelings were hopeless, until you discover her tumblr blog.

you squint your eyes at the excel sheet being flashed on screen. mo jihye? did your class even have someone called jihye? you sigh. the student was probably one of the kids at the back and would leave you to do all the work.

just your luck, that the project worth almost 30 percent of your final grade relied on some random person.

“i got jiwoo…” minji says.

hanni rolls her eyes, “that’s not bad. i got yeonjun. bro is gonna be so annoying.”

you turn to your two friends, confusion apparent on your face, “who the hell is mo jihye?”

minji and hanni both look at you with widened eyes, mouths agape.

“you don’t know jihye?” hanni asks, “she’s one of the most popular girls in school!”

“you saying that doesn’t help at all,” you murmur, heart racing at the thought of your high school’s most popular friend group. minji stares at you incredulously and you have the urge to slap your best friends.

“she’s australian and has a really nice voice,” hanni supplies unhelpfully. you furrow your brows, who else was australian other than danielle? maybe a new student.

sighing, you turn around to look at the screen again. the teacher now explaining the rubrics after the commotion about partners had died down. you frown, still thinking about jihye. somehow, you hadn’t heard of her and she was one of the most popular girls in school?

your eyes brighten when you realise that, one, jihye and danielle are probably in the same friend group, and two, becoming friends with jihye would basically mean becoming friends with danielle. you thought smugly to yourself.

(minji and hanni glance at you, concerned, when they hear you laugh quietly.)

“i encourage everyone to be in contact with their partners by the end of today. final assessment is due the last week of next month, please do take this project seriously as it is thirty percent of your grade,” mr lee says. your eyes dart around the class, danielle catching your onlooking gaze immediately. you feel your face flush and evert your eyes instantly.

you hear danielle’s god-gifted giggle and would have melted if not for the judging look from hanni. you try to sneak another glance at the girl, who crinkles her eyes when she smiles at you and you know it’s game over.

you were madly in love with a girl that probably didn’t even know your name. her brown gleaming eyes, angel-like smile, perfect wavy hair… you’re so screwed—

“y/n,” you snap out of your haze. “the bell just rung, class is over.” after blinking a few times, you realise that, one, minji and hanni had just ditched you, and two, danielle knows your name.

“ah… sorry,” you mumble a reply, embarrassed. danielle shakes her head and reaches out a hand to help you pack up. stunned, you glance at her and feel your cheeks heat up. wow… she has really long lashes…

“i saw you staring just now,” you freeze, “wanted to ask if you needed anything.”

she gazed at you expectantly.

“uhm…” you struggle to find a response, and was it always this hot in the classroom?

“sorry… i was just zoning out…”

danielle clicks her tongue and you feel guilty for making her impatient. she turns away, eyebrows furrowed.

“okay. i’ll see you later?”

“mhm.”

fuck, you were so lame.

“yeonjun keeps sending me hedgehog videos,” hanni complains, “who the hell keeps a hedgehog as a pet?” you pause momentarily, thinking, oh my god, i forgot about the project.

minji notices your stunned silence and nudges you with her elbow. “you good?”

“yup,” your voice cracks, “i don’t have jihye’s number.”

“oh, but didn’t you stay back in class—”

hanni gets interrupted when someone places a hand on your shoulder from behind. you slightly tense up and turn around slowly, eyes widening.

“hey…”

“hi y/n! i wanted to ask if you’re coming to the game later?” danielle smiles. you don’t have the heart to tell her that there’s a sea of homework piling up on your desk.

“uh, sure.”

“great! i’ll text you?”

“yes…”

with that, danielle bounces off. when you turn back to your friends, minji looks constipated and hanni’s brows are forming a judgemental look.

“what…?”

your two friends turn to look at each other and both release a coordinated sigh.

“for someone that gets straight As, you’re surprisingly stupid.”

“hey— what!”

“how could you not have her number if she just said that she’ll text you?” minji asks, exasperated. you gape at her, momentarily paused in time while hanni rolls her eyes at your stupidity.

“wait, what?”

“you didn’t know danielle and jihye were the same person— oh my god, are you even breathing? holy shit, hanni, do something bro!”

“what the hell?”

you blink, hands pulling at the varsity jacket minji had lent you. danielle got your number from haerin, who got it from jiwon, who got it from hanni. she texted you after school, making sure that you were attending the game and asking you to wait for her after so that you could work on your project. this was not how you wanted to spend the rest of the day. the stands were filled with students who cheered the cheerleaders on. they were performing some sort of routine before the game started.

despite the impressive flips and stunts they did, you could only focus on the brunette who was beaming brightly while performing. you stare in awe as they lift her up to do an aerial move. right as she is lifted, danielle (or jihye?) raises her head, making eye contact with you. hesitantly, you wave.

“—holy shit, did danielle just fall?” gasps erupt from the crowd as the cheerleader basically crashes down, arms flailing as she falls. the whole team rushes to her aid, and your eyes widen at the stink look one of them gives you.

the stands are filled with murmurs, mostly of worry and confusion. you feel guilt wreck you, did you distract danielle from performing? if she was injured, you would never forgive yourself. resisting the urge to get up from your seat to go see her, you sit back down, leg bouncing nervously. minji and hanni are seated beside you, muttering and whispering.

“it’s our first time attending a game and something goes wrong. this is why we don’t hang out with the popular kids,” hanni groans. minji nods in agreement while all you can do is shift in your seat in anxiety.

after danielle is escorted from the field to a bench, the game begins. you’re not focused on the game at all, more worried about danielle and whether she was okay. at the halfway point, minji and hanni leave to go get snacks, and you’re alone at the bench once more. feeling an urge to check in danielle, you groan, following your heart instead of your mind, and rushing down to the field. no one really notices you, more focused on the players and the game itself.

despite her injury, the girl still looks bright. her eyes gleaming and a cheerful smile on her face. she occasionally shouts out words of encouragement to the players and her fellow cheerleaders.

she doesn’t even notice you lingering around until one of your steps causes the grass to crinkle.

“oh, y/n!” danielle smiles awkwardly. you return the same. “wanna sit down here?”

“uh, i thought only cheerleaders were allowed to sit here?” you ask nervously, shifting your weight from one foot to another. danielle shrugs, “i don’t actually know. it’s okay if you sit though, i can just say you came to check up on me.”

you nod, hovering over the seat, unsure if you could actually take a seat. either fate, or danielle, decides you were taking too long, since she reaches out to your wrist, pulling you abruptly down.

with a yelp, you fall onto the bench ungracefully, cheeks heating up at the grip on your wrist and the shriek you let out. danielle, unable to resist, lets out the loudest laugh you’ve ever heard. your face flushing even more, you feel somewhat accomplished at the fact you managed to make her laugh.

now that you are sitting side by side with danielle, your throat constricts. wanting to start a conversation, you open your mouth, only to be interrupted by danielle who chirps happily, “let’s discuss our project!”

your posture deflates, an awkward smile put back onto your face. “sure.” you had wanted to avoid this topic the most; between your blunder of oh my god, jihye and danielle are the same person, and oh my god, my partner is danielle, it wasn’t a favourable position to be in.

“which topic do you want to do? i think we could do either cultural and prejudice or psychological affairs,” danielle says, “discrimination, inferiority of women— oh! maybe human attraction?”

you stiffen noticeably at the topic. human. attraction. of course danielle wanted to do a topic about human attraction. who wouldn’t be attracted to her? the brown, naturally-curled hair, hazelnut eyes, full lips—

“yeah, sure,” you croak out.

“great!” danielle smiles, “i think the game is ending soon, so i’ll text you about the project later? i gotta go hang out with my team.”

another nod. with her expectant gaze, you stand up, almost robotically, arms swinging by the side.

“uhm, that jacket…” danielle trails off. you tilt your head, what about your jacket?

“it’s minji’s?” she asks.

“uh, yeah.” you suddenly feel self-conscious, how’d she know it was minji’s? danielle seems to notice your confusion, since she points at the back, “says kim in big, bold lettering.”

you furrow your eyebrows. was there something wrong with your (minji’s) varsity jacket?

“you okay?”

danielle smiles, albeit dimmer than before, “yup. i gotta go.”

and with a wave, danielle leaves, limping towards her teammates, who welcome her with open arms. haerin sends you a stink eye and you gulp.

sighing, you head back up to the stands, minji and hanni celebrating the triumph of your school.

“where’d you go?” hanni asks.

you groan, “hell.”

masterlist | next

[svnnw]

WHEN YOU SMILE — chapter 19

19 ) 7 minutes in heaven

and now you're here, sitting in a circle right in between mark and haechan. you don't even know how you got into this position but knowing how haechan came up with 7 minutes in heaven, it didn't take you long enough to figure out his plan.

"how about we choose two random people to go into jaemin's room for 7 minutes?" haechan suggested, giving you a quick look before he focused on the others again after seeing you glare at him.

"i think we should use a bottle so it will actually be random" giselle said winking at you. you knew that the only person that actually felt bad for you was her and you were glad she said that because everyone agreed to her suggestion.

"mark, you should spin the bottle! i'll get some drinks." haechan ran right through the door so mark couldn't object.

"..." it felt like an eternity until the bottle finally stopped. fate was never on your side. the bottle landed on you and of course haechan walked back in when it happened.

"well look at that!! it looks like mark and y/n will stay together for 7 minutes." haechan cheered knowing that you were about to end your friendship with him if he went a step further. giselle looked apologetic. her suggestion didn't change a thing because both options would end up with you and mark in the room either way.

mark's 'y/n' snapped you out of your thoughts and you quickly realized that you actually had to go with him alone, in a room for 7 minutes.

you sat down on jaemin's bed while you were awkwardly staring out the window. mark knew that haechan would come up with something to make you guys stay longer together so he decided to man up a little bit and start the conversation.

"sorry if haechan makes you uncomfortable. he likes to ship his two friends just for his own entertainment."

"no it's fine. i already realized that when i first met him."

"yeah?" you don't know what happened but whatever was in the air made you blush. the way he talked and looked at you made you finally realize how nice he is. you felt bad. ever since you guys met he has always been polite and the total opposite of rude. your constant rudeness registered in your head and now you seriously felt bad and wanted to apologize to him.

"i'm sorry."

"for what??" his puzzled look made you feel even more awful because he is the type of person to forgive and forget. even if you didn't directly say anything harsh to him, they way you perceived him as a whole different person was terrible of you.

"mark, i'm so sorry for having a misconception of you. you're a really nice person but everytime your fangirls did something i started to blame you. i'm just not used to people talking about me on the open internet like that." now you just had to hope that he accepted your apology to get rid of the bad feeling.

"it's fine! i totally get you i would also be annoyed if there were people straight up hating on me." you felt relieved. the first step is finally done. you and mark are on good terms and now the only thing you have left to do is getting good grades.

"you know you look really pretty when you smile."

"hmm?" you quickly turned your head to him.

"and the 7 minutes are up!!" haechan barged into the room. you were glad he came because you wouldn't know what would happen if you stayed there for another second.

"do you guys want to continue or??"

"no it's fine i have to go to the bathroom really quick." you basically ran out of the bedroom. you thought you saw your cheeks redden but you gaslighted yourself into thinking that you weren't.

he also had a cute smile but you would never admit that.

masterlist – previous – next

a/n – y/n is trying to change.. and also why are so many accounts getting deleted??

wordcount – 0.6k

TAGLIST — open @marvelahsobx @foxy-kitsune @sunflowerbebe07 @jenmongiii @haechansbbg @defzcl @buns-inhiding @minkyuncutie @gukuwii @dreamandback @bugcattie @jaeims @222brainrot @axo-l0tl @pnkified @yyangj3lly @haesluvr @choerubies @m1ng1swife @odxrilove @jising-jisang-jisung @junviadinho @mjnhoz @p4tyaraujo @sunghoonsgfreal @slayhaechan @wonwootakemyheart @meloncremesoda @nanaxwi @sehunniepot @wouldyoulikesomefrieswiththat @multifandomania @morkiee @loonathic @softpia @nctrawberries

[starredblood]

NOWHERE GIRL

PART FIFTEEN

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: for the last day of the semester, you have to become a bearer of bad news.

wc. 4.2k

warnings: none | authors note: this is a real slow burn omg TT i gotta put you guys through a lot of yearning it’ll be all the more sweeter okay

(nowhere girl masterlist)

Dopamine levels reached a new high for you and your classmates after successfully completing the spring semester. And Yoon invited you, Mi-Cha, and her ten other friends to her family owned cafe—but you desired to go home more. You didn’t feel the thrill of walking out the doors of your campus, simply because of how mentally taxing these past few months have been.

You can finally close this chapter of your life for good but for an unusual reason, you didn’t want to. At least not yet. There’s this feeling in your chest that tells you there is something left for you to do in order to end this part of your life. You just have to figure it out first.

The cafe is packed with college students, a symphony of sighs and reliving laughter is heard at every corner. Everyone began to slow down and enjoy the rest of the evening without the rush of going home to get ready for school in the morning.

“No one is taking the drink away from you.” Mi-Cha laughs, watching amusingly how quickly you’re chugging your iced latte.

“You know I only came here because of you right?” you frown. “I just want to go home and sleep twenty four hours straight.”

“Relax you’ll go home soon. Besides, we aren’t going to see each other as often—what if this is our last time?”

You press your lips into a thin line and observe the cafe again. Yoon was by the bar, roaring with laughter amongst her friends while her parents and employees were scrambling to make drinks.

“It’s not.” you reassure, shooting your friend a smile. “We will still work together all summer, right?”

“What about that scholarship? You’re definitely going to win.” she says and you roll your eyes. “You are! Didn’t you see our co-workers faces when you showed them your final product? I bet they were envious they aren’t as skilled as you—I know I am.”

“Come on, you’re the best graphic designer in your department.” you say with a sly smirk. She lightly nudges your shin playfully. “But I think my professor is emailing us sometime today with the winning result though. He’s quick with grading.”

“Your artistic skills combined with my graphic design skills—we could seriously do some creative damage.” Mi-Cha says, grinning and sipping her drink happily. “And if you do go to Italy you have to go to Florence they have the best art supplies there. Everything there is so high quality.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Geez, now you’re getting my hopes up, Mi-Cha.”

Your eyes shift back to Yoon and your stomach churns. From someone whose life seems so perfect on the outside, it only makes sense for the universe to align Yoon to win the scholarship. It only seems right.

“Are you still planning on dorming by the way? It seems like you have your living situation all figured out.” she pipes up.

Your eyes cloud with uncertainty. “I don’t know. I guess I’m starting to get more comfortable living in my apartment but it might be more convenient for me to dorm.”

“Screw convenience—choose the one that’ll be the cheapest. Dorming will triple your tuition trust me.” she advises, snarling at the thought of her crippling student debt.

“Yeah…I don’t think I’ll want to have to work the rest of my life just to pay off all my debt. Especially now that my parents aren’t financially helping me—or helping in general.”

Mi-Cha’s eyes turn round while you take another long sip of your coffee, unaware of the pain in your friend’s eyes. It was bizarre to her how casual you mention your parent’s abandonment.

“Have they really cut you off?” she whispers and you meet each others forlorn gaze.

“They did.” you say flatly. And you feel nothing anymore at the mention of your parents. “But don’t feel bad for me. I’m doing better than I was when I was living with them.”

“Th—That’s good then…” she trails off. Trying to be selective with her words. “One day they’ll see your art work displayed permanently in Hangaram and regret ever abandoning you.”

“Yeah,” you snort. “that’ll be a nice fairytale ending.”

Grief is a great human mystery. Two weeks ago, you grieved over losing your parents as if they passed away when in reality they were only a twenty minute drive away. You were grateful school kept you busy because you were starting to think less and less of them as time went on. Selfishly, you hope that you fill their minds every waking moment of their lives.

“Guys, guys, guys!” Yoon gasps, staring at her phone screen bug-eyed. Her screeching killed the noise bouncing off the cafe walls, everyone watches her in anticipation for an announcement. You gulp, aware of what’s happening. “Oh my god—the winner is…Fuck why isn’t this email loading?”

“Watch your mouth child!” her mother hisses from behind the cafe bar.

You felt Mi-Cha reach for your sweaty palm and squeeze it as everyone held their breath waiting for her to announce the winner.

“Mom, dad we need a new internet provider!” she whines and gasps some more. Now, everyone is really getting riled up. “Oh my god it’s loaded—yes! Okay, so the winner is…let’s see…”

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

Maybe Sae-byeok’s life has gotten too dull. She used to live such a fast life full of danger—but now she has forgotten what it was like to have an adrenaline rush. But you’re a close second to having that feeling back again.

She hates how you burst into her life for a split second when peril is lurking and then disappear when things start to calm down. However, this time she understands why you haven’t reached out these past two weeks. School. Sae-byeok wonders what it would be like to be a stressed out college student.

Throughout this time, Sae-byeok had a lot of time to think. Her head was foggy trying to figure out why she felt so lonely without you around. She used to be so content with being isolated from the world, but after that night she didn’t feel the same anymore.

So, she can’t make up her mind. She doesn’t want you around because all you do is disappear but she wants you to be at arms reach.

Tonight is one of those nights where Sae-byeok couldn’t stop her mind from pondering. She wonders if you finished school already, and if so, if you’ll ever stop by to see her.

The Kang siblings are sitting in their bedroom floor, with Sae-byeok hugging her knees while Cheol is across from her doing his homework. Although most of the material Cheol is learning is foreign to her, she is a little bit more advanced when in comes to writing and grammar.

Cheol huffs in frustration not being able to solve one of the questions in his homework sheet. He scratches his head and thinks hard about the question. “Noona, I don’t know what this means.” he pouts.

When she doesn’t answer, he peers up at her and frowns when he notices how spaced out she seems to be. Just staring at the ground as if Cheol isn’t here struggling.

“Hey!” he snaps his fingers in his face, though they don’t make a snapping noise but it got her attention. Sae-byeok flinches back slightly and blinks down at him. “You’re doing it again.” he whines.

“Sorry, sorry.” she says, rolling her eyes slightly. “What is it?”

“Help me with this.” he points at the last question, however she is more concerned with the amount of dried of paint covering his hand. “What are you doing?”

She takes his small hands and groans. “Your hand is covered in paint, Cheol. I told you to be careful—it’s going to be a pain in the ass to remove it now.”

“Noona’s hands are always like this but you never scold her.” Cheol retorts, his lips jutting out even more.

His words made her think back to the time you tried holding her hand. She regrets letting it go but she just wanted to remember how it felt to be under your delicate embrace again.

“Because she studies to create art—you don’t.” she says, narrowing her eyes at the sulky boy. “I bet you didn’t properly put away the supplies either.”

Cheol’s eyes grew and tries masking his nervousness with a chuckle. “I—I did put it away nicely, Noona.”

“Oh, yeah? Let me check then.” she smirks and rises from the floor to open their small closet door. Of course, she was right. “Seriously!”

“I’ll clean it up I swear just help me finish my homework.” he groans.

“I’ll be there in a second I’ll clean it myself this time. But don’t do it again.” she warns with a sigh. Cheol mutters something underneath his breath and goes back to trying to solve the work on his own.

She bends down to collect the disarray of paint brushes littered around and stores them in the small plastic containers she bought specifically to put his art supplies in. After neatly storing most of the supplies back she reaches to collect the mounds of paper stacked besides the containers—one of them piquing her interest.

This couldn’t have been Cheol’s artwork, it was too intricate and detailed—so it had to be yours. She confirms this by looking at the bottom corner of the paper and sees your name signed. Her heart lurches. She bites back the urge to ask her brother how this was in his possession and instead examines it carefully.

It was a half finished sketch of a jellyfish painted with pink watercoloring and gold ink to trace its tentacles. She wonders what your thought process must’ve been to draw a random sea creature. She likes the fact that you’re spontaneous. Instinctively, a small smile forms on her lips when she remembers the fact that you painted her for an art project.

“Noona.” Cheol’s voice snaps her back to reality.

“I’m coming.” she quickly says and shoves your drawing in with Cheol’s own work.

“It’s not that. I finished the question myself.” he snips. “But someone is knocking on the door.”

Sae-byeok winces, guilt crept up to her for being too busy ogling your art while he was behind her struggling.

She walks out the door, past the living room where Ji-yeong is currently situated in, and peers over the peephole.

“Wait did someone knock?” she hears her roommate chirp behind her. “I swear I didn’t hear anything.”

Sae-byeok was half surprised and half concerned to see you pacing around the front entrance. When she opens the door, her stomach churns—she just knows that whatever you’re here for, it’s not to see her. Something must’ve happened for you to be knocking at their door.

Your pale face, wide eyes, and slight cut on your cheek tells her enough to know that she was right. Something did happen.

“What happened to your face?” she asks breathily.

Your face morphs into confusion. Reaching to touch all over your face you end up wiping some blood streaking down your chin.

“I fell but I guess I didn’t realize I—never mind that.” you shake your thoughts off and peer over her shoulders and see Ji-yeong eating a bag of chips while watching a television show. “I need to talk to you in private.”

Sae-byeok nibbles her bottom lip nervously and nods. “Alright, we’ll go outside.”

“No, no.” you say hurriedly, your eyes frantically peering inside the apartment. “Uh…Is Cheol in your room?”

This wasn’t normal. You seemed more anxious this time. Usually, you maintained a calm and levelheaded composure when confronted with a situation. But you can’t even stand still this time. Sae-byeok grows more worried at the fact that you didn’t even realize the cut on your chin.

“What’s going on?” she asks, shakily.

Before you could answer, Ji-yeong pops up behind Sae-byeok with a lazy smile. You both stiffen up by her sudden presence beckoning your conversation.

“Hey, Ji-yeong!” you say, facading your contorted face with a tight lipped grin. You place your hand on your bleeding chin to prevent her from noticing. “How are you doing?”

“Better than ever.” she says with a sigh, leaning against the doorframe. “But my boss has been on my ass for missing those two days of work when I went to jail. So, I’m currently looking to work somewhere else.”

Your eyebrows knit together and you shoot Sae-byeok a look. “Sorry to…hear that?”

“It’s whatever.” she shrugs. “Anyway, how’s school?”

“Oh, good I’m officially on summer break now.”

“Seriously? Wait—are you still working at that gallery? I really want to go one of these—“

“Ji-yeong, we have to talk in private.” Sae-byeok finally says through gritted teeth. She raises both her eyebrows to emphasize the importance of her words and Ji-yeong just keeps flickering her eyes back and forth to both of you.

“What? The two of you?” she says, a sly cheshire cat grin forms on her lips like she knows more than what she leads on. But she slowly starts backing away, but doesn’t peer away from the door. “Sure, I’ll leave you two alone…”

Sae-byeok waits until Ji-yeong enters her room to pull you inside the apartment. She leads you to the kitchen where she goes and hands you a wet paper towel for the blood. After that she nods, signaling for you to begin talking.

You stare straight into her dilated eyes and let out a huge shaky breath of air.

“I saw Jang Deok-su barge into my apartment with his gang members. One of them was Yen-ho.” you say, barely above whisper.

Unbeknownst to her, her mouth parts slightly. Yet she could feel the dramatic pause of her heart beat. “W—What? Did they see you?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure they think you live there. They kept yelling your name.”

“Fucking hell…”

Sae-byeok leans her back on the kitchen counter and runs her hands through her hair in exasperation. Things were going too smoothly in her life, of course it was only temporary.

“You know what this means right?” you say, your eyes flickering with concern. There was a moment your hands began to twitch when you thought about reaching over to touch her shoulders assuringly. Of course, you hold back the urge. “You can’t show your face at the bakery anymore.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay—“

“No, it’s not. What if they trashed your place?” she croaks out.

Sae-byeok is now fully facing you with her heavy gaze. You were getting worried she might breakdown when you saw her bottom lip quiver ever so slightly. The past coming back to haunt her was her biggest fear, you knew that. It was at this moment that you took a deep breath to collect yourself. You couldn’t be afraid now, not when Sae-byeok is silently crying for help.

“I’m not going back there so it’s not like I’ll ever know.” you mutter. “It’s too dangerous for me to show up at my place.”

“Didn’t I tell you this would happen?” she says aggravatingly. “That you could potentially be in danger—“

“You said that about a potential lover—not me, Sae-byeok.” you correct her with a deep frown. Sae-byeok’s freckled cheeks mystically transform pink. You chew the inside of your cheek and quietly observe her more. “Let me stay here again. I will pay your end of the rent until we figure something out.”

“No!”

“Shut up!” you hiss.

Just then the sound of a door creaking open follows after Sae-byeok bellows. You move towards the corner of the kitchen, away from the sight of whoever possibly stepped outside their room.

“Noona?” Cheol whispers, voice oozing with worry.

Sae-byeok goes over to the doorframe where he is standing and bends down to meet his level. “What is it?”

“I thought you left.”

“No, of course not. I’m right here just making myself something to eat.” she reassures and lightly nudges him back inside the room. “Go back to sleep, okay? You have school in the morning.”

“Okay…” he says, raising a suspicious brow but does as he’s told nonetheless.

You fiddle with your hands waiting for Sae-byeok to reappear. Your offer was preposterous, you are aware but how could you not do this for her? The past few months, Sae-byeok quickly proved you wrong. She wasn’t just a hard-headed person with a heart of stone, you’re certain now that her love for her loved ones runs deep and quiet. You can’t just stand back and observe everything she worked hard for just crumble.

When she comes back, her expression hardens and her mouth twitches like she was ready to denounce your offer again.

“Hey, just say yes. For Cheol.” you rapidly say before she beat you to it.

Sae-byeok becomes immobile. Her eyes dance around the floor when she comes to the realization that her brother is on the line. If she can’t keep them both afloat she will have no choice but to take him back to the orphanage. And Sae-byeok doesn’t know what she will do with herself if she lets that happen. Not when she promised her little brother he’ll never go back there again.

Slowly, her eyes align back to yours with a lot less intensity in them. You both share a looking of knowing.

“Fine. For Cheol.” she finally says to you. And you couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief—the anticipation of her response was eating you alive.

The two of you eat away the silence. Sae-byeok’s mind couldn’t stop spinning while you were silently checking up on her. You open and close your mouth repeatedly, not being able to find the proper words to say to her. If you couldn’t find a way to console her, you felt useless.

“I guess I should go tell Ji-yeong you’re staying here. How ironic…”

Your eyes widen when she spoke up. She avoids your gaze and brushes past you again, leaving you standing in the kitchen dumbfounded.

With her presence being gone, the adrenaline in your body starts dissipating. Your foot starts aching from all the running you did and you can feel the sharp pain in your chin from the cut. You drag yourself to the couch and sit with the pain until Sae-byeok comes back.

When she does, she comes back with her hair tied and familiar a blanket and pillow she brought from her room. You mumble a quiet thank you when she sits beside you and passes you the things you need to rest. To your surprise, she pulls out a bandaid from her pocket and takes it upon herself to plaster it on your chin.

“S—So, what did she say?” you stammer.

“Yes, obviously.” she says with a dry chuckle. “She also said it was ironic that I asked her this time around.” she expected you to laugh or make some sort of reaction after but all you did was blankly stare down at your lap which was now covered by the blanket she gave you. “What’s with that face?”

You rub the nape of your neck and sending her a fleeting gaze. “It sucks that I can’t get my things after I just got them back. But I shouldn’t be upset over materialistic things.” you admit, bashfully.

She pauses to think about your words and holds her breath when an idea forms. “Why don’t we try and sneak to your apartment to get them?”

“That’s too dangerous. What if they’re lurking around?” you object.

“We can sneak in the middle of the day. And that’ll leave me with enough time to explain Miss Ahn why I have to quit and why you can’t live there anymore.”

She patiently waits for you to take her words into consideration. When you made your decision, you tilt your head to face her with a small smile.

“I guess that works.”

Sae-byeok nods. Her heart starts racing again, not because she’s worried out of her mind because Deok-su is on the move—she now realizes she’s alone with you again. Things have calmed down and even if it’s just for a little while and there’s no telling what tomorrow will bring, it’s only you two alone right now.

“Are you going to sleep yet?” she asks quietly.

“No, it’s still pretty early.” you hum and stare at the television screen in a bored fashion. “Can I change the channel?”

She nods silently and you shuffle through the different channels. You were certain this would be Sae-byeok’s cue to get up and walk back to her room but she stays on the couch in crisscross position. As casual as you can, you adjust yourself closer to her to throw over the blanket past her legs.

Sae-byeok remains stiff, pretending to care about whatever nonsense is playing on the television screen. She couldn’t think straight when all she wonders about is the warmth of your hands. Theoretically, it’s unlikely that you’ll pull away if she were to grab your hand seeing as last time you were the one itching to hold hers.

She slyly peers down at you, wondering if you’re actually paying attention to the television or if your mind is also only thinking of her. Your folded hands were perfectly positioned on top of your lap. You must’ve sensed her piercing dark eyes boring into you because you catch her staring. Sae-byeok goes to look at the television again, unable to breathe properly. She feels insane thinking this much over a simple gesture.

From the corner of her eyes, she sees you unfold your hands and—

“Are you comfortable? Do you want me to move back a little?”

“No.” she croaks out. This was easier to do just in her head. She used to be part of a gang and escaped North Korea for goodness sake how did she let herself get so soft?

“Okay?” you say skeptically before focusing back on the television. “Tell me if you want me to move at any point then.”

What the hell. If Deok-su is going get her one day and you will again disappear like you usually do, she has to do this before she ultimately cannot.

“…Can I just do this?” she reaches over to boldly take your hand and intertwine them with hers.

You stare at this hand held position for a minute, unable to process her odd behavior. Was she in need of comfort?

You two remain like this while pretending to be engrossed with the show that is playing. Neither of you dare to move a muscle.

For once, time favors Sae-byeok. She relishes this fleeting moment where it’s just you two alone. You allowed her to become a bit more vulnerable, thus leaving her mind at ease. Now, all she has to focus on is your delicately warm hands. She knows this is an abnormal thing for her to be doing but in this moment in time, she doesn’t care. Not when you could potentially be gone all of a sudden.

“Did you win?” she speaks up out of nowhere.

“What?”

“The art project.”

She sees you nod stiffly. It was odd.

“You’re thinking of not going.” she utters.

“It’s just—“

“You’re going. There’s no way in hell you’ll decline that great opportunity over this situation. Over—me.” Sae-byeok says to you sternly. “Promise me you’ll go.” she mutters, squeezing your hand.

“Fine. I promise.” you answer after a minute of hesitation.

“Good.” she sighs. “You should be excited.”

“I know…I’m just overthinking.” you admit.

“Overthinking what?”

You gulp and hope she didn’t hear it. “I don’t want you to forget about me. Any of you. I’ll be gone all summer so…”

Sae-byeok snorts. “That’ll be literally impossible.”

“Really? How so?”

“Uh,” she starts off. “well, Cheol always talks about you—especially when he’s drawing. Like earlier he mentioned how your hands are always stained with paint and it excuses him for having his hands also covered with paint.”

You bite back laughter but smiling was imminent. “That’s cute.”

“It’s annoying.” she rolls her eyes.

“Okay, but what if Cheol suddenly becomes disinterested in art? Will you forget me then?”

“No, I won’t forget.” she says, softly. “How could I forget someone as reckless as you?”

You raise a brow. “Reckless? How am I reckless?”

“I literally had to fight Yen-ho for you a week after knowing you.” she says, but couldn’t help but grin at how embarrassed you appear to be. “But you keep me entertained.”

You send her a dirty look and snatch your hand off her grasp. “Wow. Nice to know I’m just an entertainment to you.”

She found it amusing how hard you tried to appear offended. You go back to watching the television, but in reality, you were digesting her words.

“I know I’m not good with words but...” Sae-byeok trails off, her chest puffing up after inhaling deeply. You slowly look at her. “I’m—glad you’re a part of my life.”

You try concealing the disappointment in your face. Stupidly, you were expecting her to say something else. Instead you just smile weakly at her before glancing away. It was nice to know that she appreciates you, it must be hard for her to vocalize her feelings but you wished you were more than just a helpful friend. That is when heart drops to the pit of your stomach at the realization of something big…

🏷️: @monroesturnns @knfthxv @jumpedthenfell-13 @peelover25 @karli6 @kissedberries @bitchybananaflower @laurenkenss @saebyeokbliss @everly-summers-solace @we1rdth0ughts

[yourmumsweirdshit]

Over The Years - Part 1

Artemis Crock X Reader

Masterlist

“Finally! Another girl. Only God knows we need more around here.” You say as you shake the blondes hand. “I’m Y/N.” She nods as before introducing herself. “Artemis.” The name sounds familiar. Possibly something Wonder Woman has mentioned.

“As in the Greek Goddess?” A soft smile appears across her face. “Something like that.” The rest of the team begins to disperse, heading to do their own things. “What about you? What’s your super cool hero name?” She says in a somewhat sarcastic tone. “I go by DS.” I say as she raises an eyebrow. “DS?.” She repeats, much slower. She stares at me for a few seconds so I give in. “Short for DarkStar, Robin over here thought it’d be a cool name.” I say pointing to small boy. “Hey, not my fault you lost the bet.” He smirks as he folds his arms. “DarkStar?” She repeats my words once again.

“Awful, I know. But It’s just something that got stuck with me for a while and I’ve kept it because I guess you could sort of say I’ve found some sort of comfort in it after having it for so long. I feel like it’s be weird to change it now, you know?” You say as you take a seat on the table behind you. “Doesn’t sound too bad. I like it.” She says not sounding too believable. I pause, staring at her for a few seconds. “Sure.” I say walking off, hearing her footsteps trail behind me. “No, I mean it, it’s great.” She stammers, her words sounding more sincere. “I didn’t say I didn’t believe you, did I?” I respond to which she raises her eyebrows. “Come on dude, I’m not stupid.” “Never said you were.” She groans in response which causes a smile to form on my lips.

“Ready for your first mission?” I ask to which she nods. “I’ve been ready.” ‘I’ve mind linked us all so we can’t be intercepted’ Mganns voice comes through to which Artemis squints, her hand shooting up to her head. “You good?” I turn to her, placing a hand on her arm. She nods, “Yeah, it just feels weird.” She remarks standing up straight, regaining her composure. “You’ll get used to it soon.” You say as she follows you. She doesn’t respond aloud. Her voice comes through inside my head. ‘Yeah I hope so.’

“Artemis! Watch out!” I yell running towards her as someone tries to attack her from behind. Fortunately I’m able to get there in time, and use the rubble from the building to knock him down. “Thanks.” Artemis breathes out as she looks down at the man. ‘Target acquired. Team, move out.’ Kaldurs voice comes through and we go back to the bio-ship.

The silence of mount justice is deafening as we get off the ship. We all say our good nights before heading off to our room. As I’m brushing my teeth a knock on the door pulls my attention. “Come in.” The door is now slightly opened with Artemis peeking in. “Uh, hey Y/N.” She says opening the door. “Oh hey, what’s up?” I ask glancing at the time. Concern clouds my mind as we came back from the mission an hour ago. “I just wanted to thank you for saving me back there Y/N.” A wave of relief rushes over me. “No problem. We’re a team, it’s what we do. We look out for each other.” I respond to which she nods, staring at the floor for a few moments. “Is that all?” I ask grabbing her attention. “Shit sorry yeah. Kinda spaced out. Thank you again though. Seriously.” She says walking back to the door. “Goodnight Artemis.” I say as she goes through. “Goodnight Y/N.” She responds before shutting the door.

“So you’re coming to Gotham Academy?” I ask making sure I heard correctly. “Unfortunately.” She sighs. “Why now though, you’ve been on the team for like 3 months already. I feel like it should’ve been sooner.” I say to which she groans. “I don’t know and to be honest I don’t care. I really don’t wanna go.” She responds as she puts her face in her hands. “If you’re so depressed about getting to spend more time with me you can leave my room.” I say to which she perks up. “You go to Gotham?” She asks taking a seat on my bed. “Yes ma’am. Ever since 3rd grade?” I question, not fully sure. “Actually I think it was 2nd. End of 2nd grade.” I confirm to which she nods. “How is it?” She asks, her elbows on her knees as she leans into her hands. “It’s whatever, strict but the rules are easy to follow. It’s got an extraordinary education, that’s for sure, but since it is built by Bruce Wayne you would have to expect that.” She hums in understanding.

“The people are nice, sure there are some shitty ones here and there but overall much better than other places. Downside is everyone is so smart, can make you feel a bit stupid.” I say as I sit on the chair by my desk. “So what, you’re like a genius then?” She smirks making me laugh. “Oh God no, far from it. I don’t really focus much on school, I just go because I have to. I pass, which is matters.” She nods. “However I guess you’re the genius since you did get into the school.” I say to which she shakes her head. “I didn’t even apply.” “Yeah me too. Hey, at least we’re twinning.” She laughs as she raises her eyebrow at me. “You are so weird.” I smile. “So when’s your first day?” I question to which she groans to. “Tomorrow.” I wince. “That is so sad.” I say to which she just nods in agreement to. “Very.” “Don’t worry though, I’ll give you a tour.” I say to which she thanks me for.

“So over here is the field. Most people just chill out here with friends and stuff, obviously. If you want to do homework go to the library or something cause it’s noisy and you might get a ball to the face if you’re not aware of your surroundings. It’s happened to me multiple times, and it’s not like I was even studying. Anyways her is the-”

Out of the corner of my eye I see Dick running up to us with his phone out. Aware of his plans as he told me the night before, I smile for the photo as he lifts his phone snapping a picture before calling out “We’ll laugh about this someday” as he runs off. “Who was that?” Artemis looks back, trying to find where he ran off to. “Just some freshman.” I respond so which she eyes me suspiciously obviously not believing me. “Which is why you were prepared to smile for the camera?” She asks an eyebrow raised. “Not my fault you’re too slow.” I laugh. “Come on, let me show you your classes.” I continue in attempts to change the subject.

“What a great way to end the year!” Wally cheers as he stretches before speeding off to the kitchen. “I think a new years kiss is needed, right Dick?” I ask not so subtly nodding towards Zatanna. She notices and shakes her head. “Yeah, you’re right Y/N, I agree.” He says before Zatanna chuckles before pulling him in. I smile as I look at Dick melt into the kiss with Zatanna, hearing footsteps approach I turn my head. “Happy New Years Artemis.” I say as she walks up to me. “Happy new years Y/N.” She hesitates before going in for a hug. I welcome it. She holds me tight for a few seconds before slowly releasing her grip on me. “Come with me.” She says as she pulls my hand not really giving me as she drags me to the top of Mount Justice.

“So what are we doing here?” I ask as she nervously smiles. “I wanted to give you something.” She pulls out a book with the words, ‘US’ in bold letters. I open look back at her. A confused smile taking over my features. “I saw the way you helped the kids with their scrap books on the mission. So I thought I’d make one for you. It was meant to be for Christmas but it wasn’t ready yet.” She says as I flip through the pages filled with selfies of us taken at school and a few taken on missions. Some with the team and others just the two of us. There’s a few solo photos of me which I didn’t even know were taken. I keep flipping through the book and find words beside a few images. Some mentioning the date and what was going on the moment they were taken.

‘Y/N before failing her exam.’ With a picture of me and her smiling, my hands wrapped around my stationery as I hold my thumbs up. And the next image is a screenshot from a video I remember quite vividly. Her writing beside the picture saying ‘Y/N after failing her exam.’ With me at the desk looking up Artemis shocked as there’s a 53% circled on the paper. I flip the page to see a picture of me with my face in my hands as there’s books upon books around me. ‘Tutoring Y/N cause she might stay back a year.’ With a sad face drawn beside it. The next image is of me pouting as her hand is in the corner frame waving at me. ‘Justice League forcing Y/N to study by not letting her on a mission.’

Flipping through the pages I see snapshots of our lives together over the past 8 months. I see the way our friendship has bloomed as so obviously shown between our interactions in videos and photos. You can see in our body language, the first photos more separated and shy to the recent ones of us hugging or unable to be separated, even in team photos we were side by side. I continue to flip through them before stopping on a page. A recent one.

‘SHE PASSED!’ It’s a screenshot of a video too, a selfie as I kiss her cheek. That was one of the most stressful days of my life, and that says a lot considering I’m risking my life on the daily. “That was a good day.” Artemis speaks up as she notices my interest in the page. “One of the best days. I can’t believe I not only passed, but with flying colours too.”

“Found it.” The teacher says as she picks up the paper from her desk and walking towards the back in the now empty classroom. “Are you scared?” Artemis asks pointing her phone at me as the teacher puts the exam face down and walks away. I smile nervously as I look down at the paper, scared to flip it and look at the result. “Obviously. It’s the make it or break it. Am I coming with you or am I staying behind?” I say before she puts her hand on mine. “Hey, you studied for this and did your best, so no matter what happens it means nothing.” She says softly, I nod, taking in her words. A silence sits between us for seconds before she speaks again sounding more like usual. “But I know that’s absolutely enough. Now look at it!” Artemis says nervously but unable to contain her excitement as it slips through.

“Okay, okay.” I say as I grab the paper, slowly flipping it as she leans back, attempting to get the result and my face as I look at the front page. My jaw drops. “Oh my God.” I whisper as I slowly turn to her. “What, what is it? I can’t see the paper.” She looks over her phone as I turn the paper towards her. “I GOT 98% I PASSED!” I scream and she instantly cheers, flipping the camera to selfie mode, now on both of us as we scream with excitement. “I knew it! I knew you could do it!” She says and I can’t control myself as I grab her face pulling her face towards me and kissing her cheek. “YOU ARE AMAZING!” I say as I pull away, she smiles unable to speak as I stand up, unable to sit still.

I smile at the image, only now realising how red she was, she’s got this sort of bashful smile on face too. I think I need access to her camera roll cause she’s got all these moments capturing things I didn’t notice. Another perspective of our lives.

I peel my eyes away from the book to look at Artemis. Her eyes already on mine. The moon shined on her so perfectly you could mistake her for the Goddess instead. “This is so beautiful. Thank you. Truly.” I say to which she smiles softly. “You know I’d do anything for you right?” She says, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I’d do the same for you.” She smiles. “I know. But I feel like I haven’t said it or shown you enough, so I wanted to remind you because you mean everything to me Y/N. You’re my best friend.”

“Y/N, it’s been years, you need to tell how you feel.” Dick says as we walk through the gymnasium of the school. “It hasn’t been that long.” You respond as you take a seat on the bleachers. “You met when I was 13, I am turning 19 this year, you guys have been dancing around it for too long.” He takes a seat beside me. You pause as his words sink in, you can remember meeting her like it was yesterday. Everything with her is memorable, it feels fresh, as if it all just happened. You forget that you’ve quite literally grown up with her.

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean I liked her the whole time.” You lean back, laying on the seats behind you. “But you did and I know that.” Dick says as he copies your move. “Thinking she’s pretty and having a crush on her is 2 different things.” You respond, denying his words. “Okay yeah, sure, let’s say you’re right. Maybe not from the day you met, but you can’t lie and say it didn’t take you long before you fell for her. What was it? 6 months.” You sigh in defeat. He’s right.

“I don’t know Dick.” I say as I look towards her, the kids laughing as she struggles make the bracelet. “Dude she’s literally in love with you. Just go for it.” He says following your eyes. As if she has a sixth sense she looks up to you. Smiling as your eyes meet and giving a wave before putting her attention back on the kids. You stare at her for a few more seconds before looking back at Dick. “But what if I lose it all.” “And what if you don’t.” He says on a level that competes with the flash.

“Just trust me Y/N. She’s into you, and I don’t want you to wait too long and lose out on her because you’re perfect for each other. You both know that and everyone around you knows that. And as much as I love Artemis I love you more, and I’m not ready to see your heart get broken if she can’t hold out for you any longer.” He grabs my hands, his relaxed persona no longer there as he now faces me, pleading with me to believe him. I take in his words, gathering my thoughts before looking back at her as she laughs with the kids. “I’d break my own heart if it means not losing her.” He sighs, but nods, understanding my words. “Well then, I hope for all our sakes she tells you how she feels.”

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Honesty is Overrated- Klaus M.

Summary: When Kol has had enough of watching his older brother pine over a girl, he decides to do something about it and give Klaus exactly what he wants.

Sadly Kol has no idea what Klaus wants, the only thing the youngest Mikaelson brother thinks about is sex and unfortunately it might just get his brother in trouble this time when he hacks into the girls Instagram and messages his brother…what happens when Klaus falls for it?

Potentially Triggering:SA Mentions/Warning!!

I can’t label this Yan!Klaus (for obvious reasons upon reading it) but the themes overall are very Dark! Along with an apparent “Twist Ending” that my Beta reader called me a Bitch for…

(Major Warnings for this fic: Mentions of Non/Dub Con, Online Arrangements about Forced Fucking, Unintentional Forceful Touching, Hacking Others Social Medias, Asshole Little Brothers)

It was the painting that did him in. Seeing the painting of Y/n as Kol walked passed Klaus’ bedroom was the final straw for him.

‘Why don’t you just ask the girl out? Your obsession is getting out of hand and you’re clearly desperate for somewhere to stick your cock. Give her a painting, girls go crazy for that sweet bullshit.’ Kol teased from where he leaned on the doorway of Klaus’ bedroom.

‘You’re an idiot.’ He rolled his eyes at his younger brothers stupidity. Klaus knew he wasn’t bad looking but sadly he was the epitome of shy and awkward, talking…to a girl? Especially one that he’s had a crush on since their shared project in the 6th grade!

It was impossible!

‘Seriously bro. Give her a pretty painting, bend her over a desk between classes, and then you can finally get over this bitch! Or you’ll be onto the next one, you do seem like a hopeless romantic-‘

‘That’s not what that means dipshit! And some of us aren’t only interested in sex! I like Y/n. You know, someday you’re going to find a girl that you like for more than just her body and you won’t have a personality to get her to stay with you passed pulling your pants back on.’ Klaus grumbled, moving to shut the bedroom door and going back to his project.

Kol knew he needed to do something to help his big brother get the girl he so desperately wanted. Plus if he also got the girl that he had been crushing on for the better part of his high school career (Klaus’ girls best friend) then what was the harm, really?

She was exactly where she said she would be when Klaus arrived. He had to stop and take a breath, nervous and not wanting to do something wrong to upset her. He was determined to do this right, he was in love with Y/n and if this is what she needed from him then he would do it for her…he just hoped he could hold out long enough to make her happy.

Stepping up behind her was easy as he had taken off his jacket, shirt and shoes, no sound being made as he moved. There was never anyone at the pool until after school was over for extra curricular’s so her scream didn’t do anything for her when he wrapped an arm around her waist, his other hand covering her mouth and holding her to him tightly. She fought against him hard and he was honestly a bit surprised how hard she was going for it but Klaus was determined to show her how strong he was. If this is what she wants then this is what he will give her-even if it is a strange kink to introduce their relationship-he will use the opportunity to prove to her how strong the “quiet artsy kid” really is.

‘It’s alright love, I’ve got you. I know what you want and I’m going to give it to you.’ He promised, roughly shoving her down, flipping her onto her back on the bleacher and seeing her eyes go wide as she looked up at him. If he didn’t know any better he would think she was surprised to see him. After a struggle he had gotten the duct tape over her mouth and hands tied around her front, pressing her back against the bleacher before reaching for her pants making her whine loudly again and try to kick at him, though her legs were pinned under where he nearly straddled her. ‘I’m going to take good care of you Princess. You’ll never want me to stop playing with you.’ Klaus had just unbuttoned her pants when he felt a drop of water hit his arm making him look up.

He was stunned to see her crying. Maybe that was a part of it for her…but he didn’t like it. He loved Y/n…he had for years, this is not how he wanted Any of their time together to be, let alone their first.

‘I’m sorry…please don’t think less of me but I can’t do this…Not like this, I know that this is what you wanted but I love you…I don’t want to see you cry while we do this.’ Klaus reached up and pulled the tape from her mouth as gently as he could and began untying her hands.

‘What are you talking about?!’ She hissed and he winced.

‘Please don’t be upset with me, I just can’t do this the first time. I feel like I’m hurting you and I get that maybe this could be fun when you know each other better but for a first time I-‘ as soon as her hands were untied she reached her hand up and slapped him across the face painfully hard. He flinched back as she moved again, Mikael being the only person that had ever really hit him and he couldn’t help but flinch away making her stop and look confused too. For a violent boy that just tried to rape her…he didn’t seem very violent or sexually aggressive at all…

‘You said…you said this is what I wanted…why would you think I would ever want this?! Who told you that I wanted you to rape me?!’ She demanded and he moved quickly off of her lower body so that she could move completely. He shifted back a few feet to give her room away from him, not wanting her to be afraid.

‘You did! You messaged me online…I admit it was a bit strange but it was your account and you said personal things.’ He promptly grabbed his phone from his backpack and showed her the messages. She quickly read through them before going and grabbing her phone, sitting beside him on the ground and finding her messages. ‘You didn’t send these…did you?’ His voice sounded soft now…broken…

‘No, look. They say sent on both of our accounts. Someone hacked me and messaged you…’

‘Oh God! Y/n, I’m so sorry! Fuck!’ He exclaimed, jumping up and tugging on his hair painfully, her standing beside him quickly and stopping his movements. ‘Sorry doesn’t even begin to-‘

‘No, no! It’s not your fault! You didn’t know and…I can see how you responded to every single one of the messages and I’m not…you…you really are sweet.’ She laughed disbelievingly at how sweet this boy still was over these messages, reading them over again and seeing how many times he proposed just going to dinner, or letting him take her home and do whatever she wanted in a bed rather than a dirty school floor.

‘I figured it was just the surprise that got you off maybe? Truthfully? I was like…honored that you trusted me like that…but I’ve been in love with you for 5 years, I really just wanted to take you to dinner.’ He joked, trying to diffuse the tension a bit more. ‘I never wanted to hurt you…but I did-‘. he was ranting and seemingly having a bit of trouble breathing.

‘No Klaus. This is not your fault, someone did this to the both of us. You did Not hurt me!’

‘I pinned you down and had your mouth taped up, I was-‘

‘You stopped!’ She exclaimed, stopping him from his panicking as quickly as possible, grabbing his arms and stopping him from pacing. He looked up at her in surprise. ‘You stopped Klaus. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had kept going, not now that I see how easy it would have been to take whatever you wanted-‘

‘I don’t want to take anything from you Y/n…I want you to give it to me because you want me and trust me and…and…Love Me. I’ve loved you for nearly 6 years now…I know that I’m not your type or whatever, and yeah, I want you but…when I saw you crying…I Never want to be the reason that you cry!’

Klaus reached his hand out and wiped away the fresh tears that were coming out. ‘Klaus…I never knew that you loved me…I love you too…’ the next thing Klaus knew she had leaned forward and was now pressing her soft lips to his making him pull back just slightly, their lips still brushing lightly as he spoke.

‘Are you sure? I feel like this setting might not be the right place to-‘ she cut him off quickly, moving to straddle his lap and kiss him again. He groaned as he felt her grind her crotch down against him, his erection presenting itself so quickly that it was almost painful.

‘At least one good thing came out of all this.’ Y/n sighed as she unbuckled Klaus’ belt, pretending to have trouble with it so that he would move and rip it off before yanking his jeans open at lightning speed, his hard cock smacking against his stomach and causing a whimper to escape his lips.

‘It did?’ He questioned stupidly, eyes dazed as he looked up at her attently.

‘It did.’ She hummed in an overly sweet way, loving how dumb his brain went so incredibly fast for her. ‘You’re all mine now, aren’t you, you little idiot?’ She coo’d and his eyes widened as he realized what she had said just before she sat down on his cock and once again his brain went stupid as he cried out. ‘Oh fuck! Nice and thick for me, aren’t you?’

‘You! Yes!’ He grunted, gripping her waist tightly to keep from finishing too fast. ‘Oh fuck! My girl now, Princess! All Mine!’ Klaus reached up, taking hold of her jaw and pulling her to kiss him roughly before holding the back of her neck and looking up at her as he rocked his hips up into her body. ‘God, you’re all fucking mine! Fuck!’

‘All yours baby!’ She promised, leaning up and pressing her lips to his lovingly. Her sweet touches and kisses were unlike anything Klaus had ever experienced before. She was gentle and loving with him, even though she didn’t have to be and he adored her every second.

‘Oh fuck…’ he mumbled, feeling the tingle shoot up his spine in a telltale sign of his end coming quickly. He tried to pull her close and readjust them but she wouldn’t allow it.

‘It’s okay baby…I’m close. Let me feel you.’ She begged and his head snapped up quickly, his eyes wide in shock.

‘You want me to-Oh Fuck…Fuck!’ He growled, Y/n clutching the back of his hair tightly as she faced down and watched his cock disappearing inside of her over and over again, the sight of which made her pussy drip even more. As he sped up his pace-chasing his end and by chance shoving her roughly into hers-she caused Klaus to have to slap a hand over her mouth as she cried out quite loudly. Her pussy clamped down onto his cock and his mouth dropped open though no sound came out as he came hard.

Y/n had calmed down fairly quickly, though as Klaus was still twitching she pulled him close and rested his head on her chest. ‘Shh…it’s okay. Take your time and relax.’ She insisted, knowing that he just needed a moment to catch his breath.

‘I’m okay…I’m fine I…that was…Holy Fuck!’ He exclaimed, bright blue eyes looking up at her excitedly. ‘Can…Can we do that again?’

Y/n giggled, unable to stop herself before she leaned her head down and kissed his lips. ‘Not right now we can’t, we have to clean up before class…I don’t know about you but I’m free after school…?’

Klaus’ eyes widened in excitement and he kissed her quickly before carefully pulling himself out of her body. ‘I’ll meet you outside the locker room.’ He told her before kissing her again, this time she had to be the one to pull away. ‘I’m never going to get tired of that.’

After cleaning themselves both up in the locker rooms they met outside the gym.

‘How did you-‘

‘I always keep an extra top and skirt in my bag just in case, I’ll put them in my locker on the way to class.’ He nodded, walking beside her down the hall towards their lockers which were right across the hall from each other where they got their books for their last class. ‘Klaus?’ Y/n questioned as they walked down the hall to the stairwell to get to the first floor for their English class.

‘Yeah?’ He spoke, barely hearing her as his mind was going a hundred miles a minute trying to figure out what to say or do now. Klaus had wanted Y/n for years though he never pictured it happening like this, in his fantasies he always took her on a date, ‘woo’ed her and made her fall in love with him before fucking her but now he was confused on how to ask her on a date considering what had already happened. What if she didn’t want to go on a date? What if sex was all she wanted? What if she hadn’t enjoyed it…what if she was just being nice and he had ruined his chance? He had blown it, he was so sure!

‘Are you…e-embarrassed to be with me?’ She asked quietly and he froze, his feet stopping in their tracks and turning to look at her.

‘What are you talking about?’ He questioned, taking her arm and pulling her to the side of the hallway and out of people’s way.

‘I mean, the way it started was fucked but we were…intimate…I thought you would at least hold my hand-I mean unless that’s all you wanted. We can just-‘ Klaus cut her off quickly, pulling her to his chest tightly and pressing his lips to hers roughly.

She wanted more! Y/n was giving him the chance to have her and he was going to take it! He moved his hands to her waist, pulling her lip between his teeth briefly before tangling his tongue with hers and squeezing her hips as she whined. He rested his forehead on hers, sighing contently as he took her chin between his finger and thumb, pulling her jaw open. ‘Stick your tongue out.’ He instructed and her eyes moved to look up at him curiously.

‘W-What?’ She mumbled prompting his smirk.

‘Stick your tongue out…don’t make me say it again gorgeous…’ she did as he asked a second later and he groaned, smirking as he pressed his thumb down against it before feeling her close her lips around him. ‘Fuck…imagine how good this hot little tongue is gonna feel on my cock…you’ll suck my cock for me tonight…won’t you? You’ll be my good little girl and let me fuck this pretty little mouth, won’t you?’ She nodded quickly, Klaus noticing how she rubbed her legs together making him smile, desperate to have her rub against him instead but that may be a bit too much in the school hallway…

Her hand held onto his shirt tightly as the other held the back of his neck, making him feel that much closer to her as she pressed her lips to his. She clung to him so strongly and he loved it so much he never wanted her to let go-until that is they just had to be interrupted.

‘Mikaelson! Y/L/n! That’s Enough of That! Get In Here!’ Mr. Tanner shouted, both of them jumping-Y/n in shock as if just remembering where they were and Klaus instantly pissed off that this asshole teacher (that already entertains himself by looking down girls tops in class) thinks he gets to yell at his girl for anything. As they moved to walk to the classroom Klaus took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together and seeing her cheeks turn a bright red shade.

‘You look so cute when you blush like that.’ He whispered in her ear as they sat beside each other in the back of the room.

Klaus kept hold of her hand as Tanner went over the last chapters of Animal Farm they had read the night before. About halfway through the class Mr. Tanner passed out a paper and they all set to work on the project they had to do since finishing the story, everyone now talking which seemed to prompt Vicky to turn around and speak to them.

‘So, are you two like, a thing now? Or are you just making out in the hallway for fun?’ She wondered, turning her chair around as she pretended to work on the project. Vicky was a gossip, in fact she was probably the biggest one next to Caroline and Elena. Klaus thanked the Gods that they weren’t in this class to question them like Vicky was, one was enough.

‘Oh, um-‘

‘Yes, we’re a thing Vic.’ Klaus answered prompting another blush and a cute smile from his girl as he leaned closer to talk without prying ears. ‘Do you want to do this tonight? You can come to my house and we can hang out and finish it…you can stay if you want.’

‘That sounds great! I would love to stay, honestly I miss your hands on me already.’ Y/n admitted and Klaus groaned, about to respond when Vicky began speaking again.

‘You two are so cute together! Honestly I like it much better than you and Damon.’ She spoke to Y/n and she gasped suddenly, sitting up straight.

‘Fuck! I completely forgot! I told Damon I would go to dinner with him tomorrow night! Dammit!’ She cursed, pulling out her phone.

‘You’re not going.’ Klaus stated with a warning tone in his voice that gave Y/n a chill up her spine.

‘I’m texting him and cancelling. Relax.’

‘Relax? You said “Yes” to a date with Damon Salvatore, and you want me to relax?’ He growled, instantly jealous at the meer thought of Damon with his girl.

‘Yes, because I’m cancelling Klaus.’ Y/n finished texting before leaning closer to him and letting him feel her lips against his ear. ‘I still have your cum inside of me baby, you really think you need to worry?’ His eyes went wide instantly at that realization, his cock twitching in his pants.

‘You’re trying to kill me.’

‘Just reminding you who I belong to. I said “Yes” to that date days ago, nothing to be concerned about.’ He nodded in agreement, nuzzling closer into her neck and taking in her sweet smell.

‘You make me want to squeal you’re so cute!’ Vicky gushed, beginning to ask Y/n a million questions about how they got together-all of them knowing that no matter what she said it would be all over the school by the end of the day.

On the way out of school Klaus held Y/n’s hand in his tightly, enjoying all of the jealous stares that he got. He was used to getting stares but not in a jealous fashion. Though Klaus had to admit that the one he loved the most was Damon who was glaring at him from his 1969 Chevy Camaro. He had always hated Damon-he was a player and an asshole and in a way it felt nice to win even if he didn’t consider his girl a prize in that sense. He was determined to make sure Damon keeps his hands to himself…Klaus would make sure no one would ever put their hands on his Princess again…

‘How did it go?’ Kol asked as he saw Y/n walk into the kitchen early the next morning prompting the smirk on the girls lips.

‘It went just right. Thank you Kol, I appreciate your help, and I’m assuming you received your payment?’ He nodded though she already knew, seeing the familiar shade of purple lipstick that her best friend wears covering his neck and chest. ‘I think it goes without saying that this secret dies with us, yes? Wouldn’t want your brother or my best friend to know, now would we?’ She smirked.

‘I’m not stupid. I hope my idiot brother was worth it.’ Kol spoke, grabbing the breakfast tray he had made and leaving the kitchen to go take his new girl breakfast in bed.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she continued making breakfast for her boyfriend. Honestly Kol really was an idiot if he truly thought Y/n’s friend didn’t know exactly what the truth was, she had wanted Kol all to herself as Y/n had wanted Klaus and so they made it happen. They’ll let Kol think he was the mastermind for the rest of their lives happily, and Y/n would let Klaus think it had all been a huge fuck up that turned out perfectly for them.

Who cares if not everyone knows what really happened that day? Everyone got everything that they wanted in the end.

Honesty is overrated.

Klaus M. Masterlist

[izudeeilo]

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You can study me

Sero hanta smau

volley-ball player sero x art student fem!reader, no quirks au, college au.

a/n it's been a while since I've written something like this...I'm nervous

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Senior year is finally here! You thought that this time, the teachers would be more lenient with you and your classmates, but not at all. In fact, they even got stricter... They assigned you a half year-long work, which would be worth 30% of your final grade. What does the work consist of, you ask? Making a complete study of the life of a student you need to pick and paint it.

But... you can't pick a friend.

Profiles • Part .2

Part 1

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You sat outside, pen in one hand, the other on your lap. Scribbling on the piece of paper quick doodles of a random animal. A rooster...a chicken…why was this one that popped in your mind, you don’t know.

A sight escapes your mouth as you look up at the sky. “This is going to be a nightmare” you mutter.

You would’ve been more ok with all of this if you could’ve chosen someone close to you instead. So much easier, simpler. But in the art course? nothing was easy.

You sometimes thought of quitting, completely. But the love you had for art kept you here and perhaps your supportive friends too. Seriously they meant everything to you, they’ve been here through thick and thin. They could be…themselves but you’d do anything for them, the other way around as well.

Taking your phone from your pocket, you check the time — 12:40 pm. “I should already be on my way to the cafeteria.” You get up slowly, grab your bag from the ground and shove the paper and pen inside.

As you enter the building, you greet with a wave of your hand some classmates you had met in your morning class. When you enter the cafeteria, you grab the tray from the pile and pick up a sandwich, a fruit salad and you pay for a soda can at the vending machine.

You weren’t particularly hungry today.

Scanning the room you make eye contact with your friends a bit further away. You march over to them and install yourself next to Himiko, Izuku in front.

”I’ve missed you guys so bad.” you say hugging Himiko’s arm. She hugs you back with a big smile. “Us as well!” she chuckles. “It’s only the first day of the week and I’m already tired.” adds Izuku with a slight smile before taking a bite from his sandwich.

You begin eating as well. “Can you guys believe it's the last year we’ll be together..” you say to them. “Oh don’t start already or I’m going to cry.” says Himiko, turning her head.

“ I know we’ll definitely be busy after but ain’t no way we’re getting separated, you better believe me, you ain’t getting rid of us” she taps her finger on your cheek in a teasing way.

”Oh that I already know” you chuckle.

Izuku suddenly perks up and says “By the way y/n I talked to some of my classmates and I’m sorry most of them don’t feel comfortable with that…” “Oh right mine as well…they say they don't want to meet new people or whatever” himiko adds.

”Oh well I did expect that honestly” you cross your arms and straighten yourself. “Guess the whole art course is going to struggle with finding someone” you sigh and begin to wonder how else are you going to find a student willing to participate in that. Ochaco may try with her classmates but you already have an idea of how it’s going to end.

You’d like someone with personality as well and there’s plenty of people like that here but—

You were cut off by a cheerful voice.

”Izuku you’re here!” A girl with pretty pink hair stopped in front of the table with her tray in hand. You all turned your head at her.

”Oh I didn’t know you were with friends my bad you guys!” she smiles.

”No it’s alright, you wanted something?” he responds.

”The boys are over there and I wanted to know if you wanted to come sit with us! Your friends can come as well if they’d like” She smiles at the both of us.

“Yeah for sure! Does it bother you guys?” He says looking at us.

”Not at all” Himiko and you respond at the same time. You look at each other before chuckling slightly.

”Perfect, follow me!” the girl begins walking ahead. “The name’s Mina by the way!”

”I’m y/n!” you respond back.

”And I’m Himiko”

You all reach a long table with four people already sitting and talking.

Four boys to be exact, one had blond hair and was just staring at the other three with a raised eyebrow, another had red hair and was laughing at something another blond said next to him and the last one with longer black hair was holding his sandwich with a smirk on his face.

”I am here and brought companyyy” Mina chants at the boys.

They perk up at the sound of her voice and all turn their heads towards us. You and Himiko smile not knowing what to do next.

”Hey, these are my friends, Himiko Toga and Y/n L/n !” Izuku introduces us.

He turns to us and points at the boys one by one.

”This is Kacchan- I mean Katsuki Bakugo. You already know him.” he laughs pointing at the blond with red eyes.

Bakugo nods his head with an almost visible smile.

”This is Denki Kaminari” The other blond points finger guns at us.

”This is Eijiro Kirishima” the red haired boy waves at us with a smile.

“And last but not least Sero Hanta” the black haired boy throws a peace sign at us and winks.

They all greet us happily and urge us to sit with them. You began talking for what seemed like hours, they told you they were part of the school volleyball team.

”Oh that’s so cool, how long have y'all been playing for?” you ask.

”We pretty much have been since we were kids. We practically all met through that.” Kirishima responds cheerfully. “Yeah we’re all like a biggg family” Kaminari leans on his shoulder.

Bakugo turns his head at us before speaking “So y/n, art huh? How is it being an artist?”

I laugh “I’m not an artist, artist yet but—“ you were cut off by Izuku.

”Oh stop that you draw, you paint even if it's not professionally yet you’re still an artist.”

”Yeah, it doesn’t matter even if it was just a hobby, you still are an artist.” Sero joins him before continuing. “And how is it going so far?”

”To be honest? Right now, horrible.” you chuckle.

They all seem taken back as their eyes slightly widen.

“It’s mostly because of an assignment our teacher already gave us.”

”Oh that's rough— On the first day?” Kirishima says.

”Yeah, I have like half of the school year to complete it? And it's worth 30% of my final grade too.” You lean your head on your hand. “I need to pick a student I don't know, to study their life? Like get to know them so I can make a painting of it—“

”You can study me?” Sero suddenly says, catching you off guard. “We just met so that’ll be perfect and I get to spend time with a cute girl like you so it’s a win-win situation.” He smiles and leans back on his chair.

You stare at him. That’s...a good idea actually you think to yourself and it’s not a total stranger if it’s one of Izuku’s friends…right?

”Well Sero you’ve got yourself a deal” I smile back at him.

”Call me Hanta.”

a/n i hope you guys like this aaah i'm so nervous and excited to post this...🤧 see u guys in the next part! 💋

[slvt4em1lyprenti2s]

Forbidden Love: Chapter 1 Next Chapter

Shy?

Masterlist

Criminal Minds Masterlist Emily Prentiss Masterlist

Summary: Professor!Emily x fem!student reader, what happens when profesor prentiss and the reader finally give into their feelings?

Word count: 1.5k

TW: Making out, I think that’s it?

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x female reader

A/N: Should I make this a series? Idk it might be fun!

Studying behavioural profiling is, well, different. It’s like science, criminology and psychology and smooshed into one subject. But the best thing about it, you ask? The teacher. Emily Prentiss is the most divine woman to ever step foot on this earth and no one can tell me otherwise. The way she strides along the front of the lecture all, her raven hair that falls in front of her face when she bends down to click something on her laptop, her eyes that always seem to find mine in a room full of students, her veiny hands that brush over mine when giving back a test. Ugh god, I swear I’m falling in love with this woman. 

It’s 7:45 am on a Wednesday and I’m walking across campus so I can get to lesson a little early to touch up my notes from my other class with Agent Morgan and to go over my- okay I’m bullshtting I just want to see Emily. And to be honest, I think I’m one of her more favourite students so I think she doesn’t mind me being early. 

I push open the door to the lecture hall and start walking down the steps, laptop bag slung over my shoulder that contained notebooks, pens, pencils etc, all the essentials. In my hand I held a travel coffee mug with my favourite hot chocolate in it because I wasn’t too partial to coffee. As I reach the front row I notice that Professor Prentiss has been following me with her eyes and watching the sway of my hips as I walked in. ”Morning Professor.” I try to say as if her eyes all over me weren’t causing a blush to creep up my neck. I took a quick check behind me finding out I was the only one in the room. 

“Hi, y/n. How are you today?” She asked her eyes staring into mine, genuinely curious.

”Good thank you, tired but good, what about you?” I smile as she chuckles lightly at my comment.

“Just about the same as you darling.” She replies with a smirk on her face seeing my face instantly bloom with red at the pet name. I shuffle my bag slightly before she says “I was out on a case for the last two or so days and I, only just, made it back in time to teach you guys. Lucky me hey? The only reason I’m even slightly okay with having to wake up at the ass crack of dawn is because of students like you. You actually listen and care, god knows that kind of work ethic is rare these days.” Emily looks exhausted and about ready to jump into bed at any second but the words that she said seem to cloud my head so I don’t pay much attention to her disheveled state. 

Students like me? What does that even mean? Well, she explained what it meant but I still wasn’t convinced. Nonetheless I responded “Yeah, it really is. All the people in this class want to be profilers or something along the lines of such and yet none of them take their education seriously. I want to throw something at them every time they talk over you. I might actually do it one day, it's so annoying!” She smiles fondly at my words making a cage of butterflies escape into my stomach and I smile back. 

“Now, I can’t have you throwing things at people, can I now sweetheart? That’ll get you kicked off the course. And I don’t think you want that, I certainly don’t want that, and besides don’t worry about the others. You’re doing amazing ah, that reminds me can you stay behind at the end? I just want to speak to you about your grade on our most recent exam. It’s nothing bad, I promise. You’ve done exceptionally well, in fact so well that I want to talk to you about further opportunities you have open to you.” She places her hand on my shoulder as we now stand face to face, she got up halfway through talking to lean on the front of her desk. I smile and subconsciously lean into her touch. The remains of the blush from the pet names yet again lingers but I say a small “Thank you Professor.” 

At that moment the door to the lecture hall swings open revealing another student in their own little world unaware of the building tension in the room. I give her one last smile and go make my way to a seat in the front row. I get out my laptop and notebook and start writing the dates and titles. I could feel eyes on me the whole time, I look up and lock eyes with Emily, finding her already looking at me. She sent me a wink and glanced back down at whatever she was working on. A crimson flush invaded my face and I returned my eyes to my page.

After the lesson I packed up slower than normal so that I’d be able to stay behind a little longer than she probably ment. I put my laptop in my bag and zip it up and grab my now empty hot chocolate. I walk up to Profesor Prentiss’ desk and find she’s already looking at me, again. 

“You know, you should stop staring at me so much. People might get the wrong idea.” I say, suddenly feeling confident, a teasing smirk on my lips. 

“What if I want them to get the wrong idea? What if I want them to think you’re mine?” I quickly shut up at that remark, all my confidence suddenly disappeared and I turned into putty. Heat rose to my cheeks and my head dipped to avoid her piercing gaze, it wasn’t mean, more admiration. But, any look from Emily Prentiss is intense. “Cat got your tongue honey?” She had a shit eating grin on her face as she saw me nod slowly. 

“Anyway, your grade! Okay you scared the highest in the class, and you got full marks. This isn’t anything new for you I'm sure, you’re a bright young woman. But, scoring this high in a test this hard, it opens doors for you. So, I’m here to offer you a chance to shadow me and the team for a week to see how we handle cases and what the job entails really. I also wanted to let you know that if you have any interest in joining the team I would accept you in a heartbeat. You’re a brilliant profiler.” Yet again for what feels like the millionth time today, heat rises to my cheeks. She stalks the way round her desk and stands in front of it. 

“That sounds amazing, oh my god, really?” A smile broke out on my face immediately. She looked pleased at my reaction and took a step closer. 

“Yeah of course really, why would I joke?” She laughed softly. I muttered a small ‘true’ and kept shamelessly checking her out as she still came closer to me and lowered her lips down to my ear and whispered, “Do I make you nervous darling? Is that why you get all shy whenever I’m around?” I nodded again while looking down, her hand found my chin and tilted it up. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” I felt a strange tingling in my lower stomach as she said that. 

I looked her in the eye and she bought me closer. “Is this okay?” she muttered, her breath fanning across my face due to the proximity. 

“Yes.” I breathed out. That was all the confirmation she needed to softly press her lips to mine. She held me like I might break at any minute, so tentative and caring it made my heart flutter. My hands found their way around my waist and I pulled her closer. She moved us around so now I was the one against the desk as she deepened the kiss, her tongue moving into my mouth. I instantly let her take control of the kiss and press her hips against mine. A small whine left my lips and I lent into her arms which were on my hips. 

She pulled away and looked into my eyes before whispering, just to me even though there was no one else there, “I don’t want this to just be a fling, just to make that clear.” I smiled wide and pecked her lips once more. 

“Neither do I.” She pulled me in again and we kissed with smiles on both of our faces. We knew we would have to be a secret for a while obviously but it didn’t stop me from fantasising about what was to come.