#im kinda slow with the parts sorry :c

[fuqnia]

I Wanna Go on Walks with You (2) ₊˚⊹♡

♡ stan marsh x fem!reader insert | college au, smut

♡ A/N | sorry if this part is kinda fucked up, but i really did enjoy writing the smut LOL. i love u stan <3 thank u guys again for all the support!!! kyle is also based af in this... also this will probably be my last fic for awhile, uni and work is starting back up for me so im rlly sorry!!

♡ C/W | nsfw (18+), all characters are aged up! drinking, smoking, hookups, vomiting, physical fighting, inexperienced reader, p in v, bj's, fingering, reader is kinda manipulative/asshole-ish and depressed, stan is depressed, bi stan

♡ Synopsis | stan thought he could outrun the weight of his feelings, but when the past and present collide at a party, the cracks he's been trying to hide threaten to shatter completely. amid the chaos, one truth becomes impossible to ignore—sometimes, the mess you make is the one you can't escape.

event masterlist | part one

Stan’s breath hitched as he fumbled with his keys, the cold metal slipping in his trembling fingers. He cursed under his breath, his voice cracking as he shoved the key toward the lock again. His vision blurred—not from tears, not yet—but from the suffocating weight pressing down on his chest.

Why couldn’t he get the damn key in? His hands were shaking so violently that he couldn’t even do this one simple thing. The door wobbled slightly under his palm as he slammed his other hand against it, his frustration boiling over into a muttered, “Fucking useless.”

Finally, the lock clicked. He pushed the door open and stumbled inside, letting it shut behind him with a loud, hollow thud. The sound reverberated through his skull like the echo of every mistake he’d ever made.

Stan wasn’t expecting to see Kyle sitting at his desk, surrounded by open textbooks and scribbled notes. His best friend’s head snapped up at the noise, his expression immediately shifting from tired concentration to alarm as he took in Stan’s disheveled state.

“Stan?” Kyle’s voice was cautious, his brow furrowing. “What the hell happened? Are you—”

Stan didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The words jammed in his throat, choking him as he dragged himself to his bed. His legs felt like they might give out, and the second he hit the mattress, he folded in on himself. His elbows dug into his thighs, his head dropping into his hands as his shoulders slumped forward. His hoodie felt too tight, like it was strangling him, and he tugged at the neckline with shaky fingers, desperate for air.

Kyle didn’t move at first. Stan could feel his gaze, sharp and calculating, like he was trying to piece together the puzzle of what had just walked through the door. The silence between them was thick, suffocating, broken only by the sound of Stan’s uneven breathing.

“What the hell is going on, Stan?” Kyle tried again, his voice quieter but no less insistent. “You look like you just—” He stopped himself, his words trailing off when it became clear that Stan wasn’t going to respond.

Stan’s mind was racing, but none of his thoughts made sense. They jumbled together, incoherent and overwhelming: the heat of your skin, the weight of your words, the way you looked at him when you wiped your  mouth and told him you wanted to. The memories hit him like a series of sharp, jarring flashes, each one leaving a heavier weight in his chest.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he stopped it sooner? He’d let it happen—hell, he’d encouraged it. He could still feel your touch, your breath, your voice as you asked if it was okay, and all he could do was nod like some pathetic, desperate idiot.

His stomach churned violently, and he swallowed hard, willing himself to keep it together.

Kyle finally stood, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor grating on Stan’s frayed nerves. His footsteps were slow, cautious, as he approached the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under Kyle’s weight as he sat down beside him, leaving just enough space to avoid crowding him.

“Stan,” Kyle said softly, his voice devoid of the usual judgment or irritation. He waited, but Stan didn’t lift his head.

Then Kyle’s hand landed on his shoulder, firm and steady. The contact jolted something loose in Stan, and he let out a sharp, broken gasp. The tears came before he could stop them, spilling hot and fast as his shoulders began to shake.

“I can’t—I can’t fucking do this,” Stan choked out, his voice cracking with every word. He dug his fingers into his hair, pulling slightly as if the pain might ground him. “I’m so fucked up, Kyle. I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing anymore.”

Kyle’s hand tightened slightly, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t tell Stan it was going to be okay, didn’t try to fix it, and for some reason, that only made Stan’s chest ache more. He wasn’t sure what he wanted Kyle to say—maybe nothing, maybe everything. Nothing felt like it would be enough.

“I keep screwing everything up,” Stan muttered, his voice muffled by his hands. “I’m such a fucking mess. She deserves better than this—better than me. And all I’m doing is—” He cut himself off, a sharp sob tearing its way out of his throat.

The image of your face flashed in his mind again, bright and vivid and so goddamn innocent compared to the mess he’d made of himself. He hated it—hated himself for letting you get caught up in his shit. You deserve someone who wasn’t drowning, someone who wasn’t going to drag you down with him.

Kyle shifted beside him, his presence solid and unmoving. “You’re not a lost cause, Stan,” he said finally, his tone even but firm. “But you can’t keep running yourself into the ground like this. Whatever’s going on, you need to face it. You can’t keep burying it under all this… whatever this is.”

Stan let out a bitter laugh, though it came out more like a strangled sob. “Yeah? And what if there’s nothing left to face? What if I’m just broken, Kyle? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

Kyle didn’t answer right away, and Stan could feel the weight of his silence like a lead ball in his chest. Finally, Kyle let out a quiet sigh, his hand still firm on Stan’s shoulder. “You figure it out. One step at a time. But you can’t keep doing this alone.”

Stan shook his head, his hands dropping from his face to rest limply in his lap. His chest ached, his throat raw from the effort of holding back more tears. He stared at the floor, his vision blurred, and muttered, “I don’t know if I can.”

The words felt hollow, heavy, like they’d been pulled from the deepest part of him. For a moment, he thought Kyle might try to argue, to push back against his hopelessness. But instead, Kyle just sat there, his presence a quiet reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Stan’s voice was hoarse as he spoke again, barely above a whisper. “I’m ruining everything. And I don’t know how to stop.”

Stan leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the passenger window, his eyes unfocused as the city lights blurred past. The hum of Kyle’s car engine and the chaotic noise from the backseat felt distant, like it was happening to someone else entirely. Kenny and Cartman were mid-argument—something about who ate the last slice of pizza before they left—but their voices were muffled, almost drowned out by the weight pressing on his chest.

Kyle was muttering under his breath, his knuckles tight on the steering wheel as he navigated through traffic. Stan wasn’t sure if Kyle was complaining about the frat party, the noise in the car, or the fact that he had to drag Stan out at all. Probably all three. But Stan didn’t care. None of it mattered.

His phone buzzed again in his pocket. He didn’t need to check to know it was you.

You’d been texting him all day, calling him, leaving voicemails he hadn’t dared to listen to. The notification counter on his lock screen was absurd—double digits at least. It was like you were desperately trying to reach out, to fix something that Stan had already smashed into pieces.

He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing harder against the window like he could will himself to disappear. Every buzz of his phone was a knife in his chest, sharp and relentless. He didn’t have to read the texts to know what they said. He could hear your voice in his head, asking him why he’d been avoiding you, why he hadn’t answered, why he’d left so suddenly that night. And what could he say? That he’d felt so disgusted with himself, so ashamed, that he couldn’t even face you? That every time he thought about you—about your hands, your voice, your touch—he felt like he was going to fucking unravel?

Stan’s stomach churned as he imagined you sitting in your room, staring at your phone, waiting for a reply that would never come. He could picture it so vividly: the way your eyebrows furrowed when you were frustrated, the way your leg bounced when you were nervous. You probably thought you’d done something wrong. Maybe you even blamed yourself.

He hated himself for that the most.

“Yo, Stan,” Kenny’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and teasing. “You gonna sulk all night, or are you actually gonna have fun for once?”

Stan didn’t move, his forehead still pressed against the window. “Not in the mood, Kenny,” he muttered, his voice flat.

“Shocker,” Cartman chimed in from the backseat, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Stan Marsh, king of depression, strikes again. Someone get this guy a participation trophy for most miserable bastard alive.”

“Cartman,” Kyle snapped, his voice sharp and tired. “Shut the hell up.”

Stan didn’t even flinch. The jab rolled off him like water on glass. He’d heard worse—from Cartman, from himself. His own thoughts were infinitely crueler than anything Cartman could come up with.

His phone buzzed again, and this time, the vibration felt like it echoed through his entire body. He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing the cool metal of the device, but he didn’t pull it out. He couldn’t bring himself to look at your name on the screen again. Couldn’t bring himself to see the timestamp on the last text he’d ignored.

God, why won’t you stop?

The thought hit him like a slap, bitter and sharp. He clenched his teeth, his jaw aching from the tension. He knew why you wouldn’t stop. You cared. You’d always cared, even when he didn’t deserve it. And that was the worst part. Because no matter how many times you reached out, no matter how hard you tried to pull him back, he’d only end up dragging you down with him.

Stan let out a shaky breath, his fingers curling into fists in his lap. The party wasn’t going to help. It was just another excuse to drown himself in alcohol and noise, to bury the weight of his guilt under layers of bad decisions. But Kyle had insisted. Said he needed to get out, to “snap out of whatever funk” he was in.

Funk. Like it was something he could just shake off. Like he hadn’t been carrying this hollow, gnawing emptiness for years, long before you’d gotten tangled up in it.

Another buzz. Another text. Another reminder that he was too much of a coward to face you.

He closed his eyes, the cool glass against his skin the only thing grounding him. His mind replayed that night in your room on an endless loop—the way you’d looked at him, the way your voice had wavered when you asked if it was okay, the way he’d broken down the moment he’d left.

He deserved every ounce of this misery.

The car rolled to a stop in front of a two-story house, its windows glowing with multicolored lights. The muffled bass of music thudded against the walls, vibrating through the air. People crowded the porch, cups in hand, laughter and shouts spilling out into the street like the party couldn’t be contained.

Stan dragged himself out of the car, his feet heavy against the pavement as he followed Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman up the steps. The scene was chaotic, but Stan barely registered it. All he could think about was how desperately he needed to shut his brain off, to drown out the endless loop of shame and guilt that had been gnawing at him since he’d bolted from your room.

The moment they crossed the threshold, the stench of sweat, alcohol, and something vaguely herbal hit him like a wall. The house was packed, bodies pressed together in a chaotic rhythm that matched the deafening music. Stan scanned the room, his eyes narrowing as they landed on the makeshift bar set up in the kitchen. Without a word, he started toward it.

Kyle grabbed his arm, his expression tight. “Stan, come on. Maybe you should chill for a second.”

“Get off me, Kyle,” Stan muttered, yanking his arm free. He didn’t stop walking.

“Dude, just let him,” Kenny said from behind, his tone light but laced with a resigned edge. “If he wants to drink himself stupid, it’s not like we can stop him.”

Kyle shot Kenny a sharp look, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he trailed behind, his concern palpable as they followed Stan into the kitchen.

The bar was a mess of half-empty bottles and sticky counters, but Stan didn’t hesitate. He reached for the nearest bottle of clear liquid—vodka, maybe—and unscrewed the cap with shaky hands. A few people around the bar turned to watch as he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long, burning swig.

“Jesus, Stan,” Kyle hissed, his voice barely audible over the music.

Stan ignored him, the vodka scorching its way down his throat and settling in his stomach like fire. He took another swig, longer this time, the burn making his eyes water. Someone nearby let out a low whistle, and a few others laughed, their voices mingling with the pounding bass.

“Damn, dude. Save some for the rest of us,” a guy called out, his tone half-amused, half-impressed.

Stan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his grip tightening on the bottle. He didn’t respond, didn’t even look up. The vodka was already doing its job, the edges of his thoughts starting to blur, the weight in his chest loosening just enough to breathe.

Kyle reached for the bottle, his expression tense. “Stan, stop. This isn’t—”

“Leave it,” Stan snapped, his voice harsher than he intended. He pulled the bottle out of Kyle’s reach and tipped it back again, the alcohol rushing through him like a lifeline.

Kenny leaned against the counter, his eyes tracking Stan’s movements with a mix of curiosity and unease. “Guess we’re doing this, huh?” he muttered, mostly to himself.

Stan didn’t care about the stares or the murmurs around him. He didn’t care about Kyle’s disapproval or Kenny’s detached amusement. All he cared about was the bottle in his hand and the numbness creeping over him, muting the thoughts that had been eating him alive for days.

But as he took another swig, he couldn’t help but think about how temporary it all was. How the numbness would fade, leaving him raw and exposed again. How he’d have to face your texts, your calls, your voice in his head asking why.

He pushed the thought away, his grip tightening on the bottle as he took another drink, his focus narrowing to the burn in his throat and the faint, fleeting relief it brought.

Stan barely registered the presence next to him until a hand clapped down on his shoulder. He flinched slightly, his body tense, but then the unmistakable voice of Cartman broke through the haze.

“Alright, dude,” Cartman said, his tone surprisingly even for once. “Let’s take this outside and chill, huh?”

Stan turned his head, blinking blearily at him. Cartman had a half-empty bag of chips in one hand, crumbs dusting his hoodie. The contrast between Cartman’s casual demeanor and Stan’s unraveling was almost laughable, if not for the fact that Stan couldn’t summon the energy to care.

“What?” Stan muttered, his voice hoarse, the word dragging out like it took effort just to speak.

Cartman gestured loosely toward the back door with the bag of chips. “You heard me. Outside. You’re, like, two seconds away from face-planting into the counter, and I’d rather not have to haul your drunk ass to a hospital. Plus, it’s too loud in here.”

Stan stared at him for a moment, his grip still tight on the bottle. The idea of going outside, away from the noise and the crowd, wasn’t entirely unappealing, but he couldn’t shake the nagging voice in his head that told him to just keep drinking. To keep burying it all.

“I’m fine,” Stan mumbled, raising the bottle again.

Cartman’s hand tightened on his shoulder, uncharacteristically firm. “No, you’re not,” he said, his voice lower, almost serious. “And I’m not asking. Let’s go.”

Stan hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced down at the bottle in his hand. The burn of the vodka had dulled, replaced by a creeping nausea he couldn’t quite shake. The room felt too hot, too claustrophobic, the thrum of the music pounding in his skull like a second heartbeat.

Without another word, Cartman started guiding him toward the back door, his grip firm but not rough. Stan didn’t resist, his legs moving on autopilot as they weaved through the crowd. Kenny and Kyle were still in the kitchen, their voices blending into the cacophony around them, but Stan didn’t look back.

The cool night air hit him like a slap to the face as they stepped onto the porch. It was quieter out here, the muffled bass from inside fading into the background. A few people lingered around the edges of the yard, smoking or chatting in low voices, but it felt a world away from the chaos inside.

Cartman let go of his shoulder and leaned against the porch railing, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched Stan with an unreadable expression.

Stan sank down onto the steps, the bottle still clutched in his hand. He rested his elbows on his knees, his head hanging low as he stared at the ground. The vodka churned uncomfortably in his stomach, mixing with the weight in his chest until he felt like he might collapse under it.

“You’re a mess, dude,” Cartman said finally, his tone blunt but not unkind. “And that’s coming from me.”

Stan let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “No shit, Cartman.”

Cartman shrugged, his hand rattling the bag of chips as he reached for another handful. “I’m just saying, whatever’s got you spiraling this hard? Might wanna deal with it before you end up, I don’t know, dead in a ditch or some shit.”

Stan looked up at him, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. “Thanks for the pep talk,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Cartman smirked, leaning back against the railing. “Anytime, Marsh.” For a moment, he was silent, his gaze shifting to the bottle in Stan’s hand. “Seriously, though. You gonna talk about it, or are we just gonna sit here while you drink yourself into oblivion?”

Stan didn’t answer right away. His grip on the bottle tightened, his knuckles white as he stared at the ground. The thought of talking about it, of saying any of it out loud, made his throat close up. But the silence felt heavier than the words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

Finally, he sighed, the sound shaky and hollow. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said quietly, though even he didn’t believe the words.

Cartman didn’t push. He just stood there, eating his chips. Stan’s chest tightened as the silence between him and Cartman stretched on, his own words hanging heavy in the cool night air. He could feel Cartman’s gaze on him, assessing, but he didn’t look up. He didn’t have it in him.

“So,” Cartman said, his voice casual but pointed as he crunched on another chip. “This spiral of yours—it’s about [Y/N], isn’t it?”

Stan’s stomach dropped. He didn’t move, didn’t react, didn’t give Cartman the satisfaction of an answer. His hands clenched into fists on his knees, his nails digging into his palms as he focused on the ground in front of him.

When Stan didn’t respond, Cartman just shrugged, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth. “Figures,” he said through a mouthful of food. “Chicks, man. They’ll fuck you up every time.”

Stan finally looked up, his glare sharp, but Cartman wasn’t even looking at him. He was leaning against the porch railing, staring out at the yard like this was just another Saturday night. For all his bluntness, Cartman didn’t press the issue, and Stan was oddly grateful for it.

He let out a shaky breath, trying to steady himself, when movement caught his eye. Out in the yard, among the small clusters of people, was someone who looked exactly like you. The way they moved, the curve of their shoulders, even the shine of their hair—it all screamed you. His heart stopped, his chest tightening painfully as a wave of nausea rolled through him.

Oh, God. No. Not here. Not now.

Stan felt his stomach twist violently, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps as he tried to ground himself. His grip on the bottle tightened until his knuckles turned white, but his hands were trembling too much for it to feel steady.

“Dude, are you gonna puke again?” Cartman asked, his tone half-concerned, half-mocking as he finally glanced over at him.

Stan shook his head sharply, his eyes locked on the figure in the yard. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though his voice sounded far from convincing.

It wasn’t until the person turned slightly, giving him a better look at their face, that he realized it wasn’t you. The relief that hit him was immediate but fleeting, replaced by a hollow ache in his chest that left him breathless.

Get a grip, he told himself. You’re losing it.

Without looking at Cartman, Stan pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly as the alcohol in his system made his movements clumsy. “I’ll be right back,” he said, his voice low and strained.

Cartman raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop him. “Yeah, sure. Don’t die or anything.”

Stan ignored him, his focus zeroing in on the person who looked like you. He didn’t know why he was doing this—why he was chasing a ghost in the middle of a party—but his legs moved before his brain could stop them.

His steps faltered slightly when they turned, their profile confirming what he already knew: it wasn’t you. The sharp pang of disappointment hit him, but he pushed it down, plastering on a crooked grin as he closed the distance between them.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, though it wavered slightly. “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the yard.”

The person turned fully, their eyebrows raising in mild surprise. “Uh, hi?” they said, their tone cautious but polite.

Stan shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, trying to steady himself as he leaned slightly closer. “I know this is kind of random, but… you look familiar. Do we know each other?”

They tilted their head, studying him for a moment. “I don’t think so,” they said finally. “But… thanks, I guess?”

“Sorry if I’m coming off weird,” Stan added quickly, the words tumbling out before he could think them through. “It’s just—you have this vibe. Like someone I used to know.”

His stomach churned at the words, the lie leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore—flirting, coping, or just flailing in the dark. Maybe all three.

The person gave him a small smile, their posture relaxing slightly. “Well, I hope they were cool,” they said lightly, their voice carrying a faint edge of humor. “Because that’s a lot of pressure.”

Stan laughed softly, though it felt hollow. “They were… one of a kind,” he muttered, his throat tightening as he glanced down at the bottle in his hand.

The person shifted their weight, their gaze flicking to the bottle before meeting his eyes again. “So… are you okay?” they asked, their tone genuine but hesitant.

The question hit him like a slap, the concern in their voice cutting through the haze of alcohol and self-loathing. He forced another grin, though it felt like it might crack under the weight of everything he was trying to hold back.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rough. “Just… blowing off some steam, you know?”

The person nodded slowly, their expression softening. “Well, don’t go too hard on yourself,” they said, their smile faint but kind. “It’s not worth it.”

Stan’s chest tightened, the words hitting far too close to home. He hesitated, the idea forming in his mind before he could stop it. Maybe if he just leaned into this—into them—he could bury the mess he was drowning in. Just for a night.

“So, uh…” He cleared his throat, his grin turning slightly sharper, more deliberate. “Do you want to maybe get out of here? Just hang out, away from all… this?” He gestured vaguely toward the party, his pulse racing as he waited for their response.

The person blinked, their surprise evident. They hesitated, glancing around before meeting his gaze again. “I don’t know,” they said, their tone cautious. “I’m not really looking for anything serious.”

Stan’s grin faltered for a split second before he forced it back into place. “Neither am I,” he said smoothly, though the words felt like sandpaper in his throat. “Just… looking for some company.”

They looked at him for a long moment, their expression unreadable. Stan’s chest tightened further, the silence stretching as his grip on the bottle grew tighter. Finally, they nodded, their smile faint but genuine.

“Alright,” they said, their voice light. “Lead the way.”

Stan exhaled, the relief crashing over him like a wave as he gestured for them to follow him. But as they walked toward the edge of the yard, the hollow ache in his chest twisted deeper, darker. He could feel it gnawing at him, an insidious reminder that this wasn’t about connection or distraction—it was about punishment.

Because that’s what he deserved, wasn’t it? To scrape the bottom of the barrel, to throw himself into fleeting moments that meant nothing and left him emptier than before. To chase ghosts and bury himself in mistakes just to forget the weight of your voice, your touch, your trust. He clenched his jaw, his steps heavy, each one dragging him further into the abyss he’d created for himself.

It didn’t matter who they were or how kind their smile was. They weren’t you. And no amount of cheap liquor or borrowed warmth would change the fact that he’d ruined the one thing that might’ve saved him. He wasn’t just falling apart—he was clawing himself to pieces, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

As he led them into the dark, his lips twisted into a bitter smile. Maybe he was beyond saving. Maybe this was all he’d ever be—a mess of regrets and bad decisions, staggering forward just to avoid looking back.

The phone felt heavy in your trembling hands, its screen glowing with the draft of a message you couldn’t bring yourself to send. Your mascara streaked down your cheeks, smudged by the steady flow of tears you hadn’t managed to stop for hours. The lump in your throat ached, a constant reminder of the sobs that wracked your chest. You sniffled, trying and failing to take a steadying breath, as your thumb hovered over the send button.

“Hey… I think it’s best if we don’t see each other anymore.”

The words on the screen blurred through your tears, and your hands shook so violently you could barely hold the phone still. Damien didn’t deserve this—he hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d been patient and kind, the perfect blend of calm and confident, someone who made you feel like you mattered. And yet, none of it had been enough to drown out the relentless weight of Stan in your mind.

Your chest tightened as you stared at the message, the silence of your room only amplifying the storm of your thoughts. A week had passed since you’d last seen Stan, but his absence had carved itself into every part of your life. You couldn’t escape it—not in the dead of night when you stared at your phone waiting for a message that never came, and not during the day when everything reminded you of him.

Every laugh, every smile you’d shared, every clumsy touch from that night—it all played on an endless loop in your mind, growing louder with every moment he ignored you. And now you were here, mascara running down your face and heartbreak threatening to choke you, about to push away the one person who had actually wanted you.

You felt your stomach twist with guilt as you thought about Damien. He’d been so excited when he’d texted you last night, asking about your weekend plans. The idea of crushing that enthusiasm, of turning his warmth into confusion and hurt, made your fingers falter.

But you couldn’t keep lying to yourself, or to him. Your heart wasn’t in this—how could it be when it was still chained to someone else? To someone who hadn’t even spared you a text in a week? Someone who was probably out there living his life without a second thought for the mess he’d left you in?

Your tears fell harder at the thought, your thumb finally pressing the button as the message sent with a soft ping. The room seemed impossibly still as you stared at the screen, watching the text sit there, delivered but unanswered.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to no one, your voice hoarse and broken.

You dropped the phone onto the bed, your body trembled with every sob, your chest heaving as the weight of guilt crushed you. It was unbearable, like a physical ache gnawing at your ribs and spreading through every inch of you. You let your head fall into your hands, your fingers tangling in your hair as shame and regret clawed at your heart.

How could you have been so selfish? So stupid?

You replayed that night in your mind, every detail vivid and suffocating. The way Stan’s hands had hesitated before gripping your hips. The way his voice had trembled when he asked if it was okay. The way he’d broken apart in your room after you’d pushed too far.

You’d told yourself it was for practice, for Damien. That lie sat bitter in your chest now, hollow and meaningless. You hadn’t cared about Damien in that moment, not really. You’d cared about Stan, about distracting him, about being the one to pull him out of the darkness that had been swallowing him whole. But instead of helping him, you’d only dragged him down further.

I used him. The thought hit you like a slap, fresh tears streaming down your face as the realization sank in. You’d taken advantage of his vulnerability, of his trust in you, and for what? To play pretend for a few fleeting moments? To feel wanted?

You pressed your hands against your face, your fingers digging into your skin as if you could scrub the guilt away. “I’m a terrible person,” you whispered, the words shaking as they fell from your lips. “I’m so fucking terrible.”

The silence of your room felt deafening, wrapping around you like a noose. You hoped, desperately, that Stan was feeling better now that he didn’t have to deal with you. That cutting you out of his life had given him some peace, even if it left you feeling hollow and alone.

The thought of him—his face, his voice, his touch—was like a knife twisting in your chest. You wanted to forget, to drown out the ache that wouldn’t let up no matter how much you cried. You wanted the numbness that had always felt so far out of reach. And then, unbidden, your mind drifted to the one thing that might offer it.

Alcohol.

You thought about the parties Stan and the guys dragged you to, the cheap liquor that burned your throat but left your mind blissfully hazy. You thought about how easy it would be to lose yourself in that fog, to forget the guilt, the shame, the sound of your phone buzzing with messages you couldn’t bring yourself to read.

Your breathing hitched as the thought took hold, the temptation curling around you like a siren’s song. You pushed yourself off the bed, your legs unsteady as you stood. Your heart pounded in your chest, your movements shaky and uncertain as you made your way to the closet.

Throwing the door open, you rifled through the clothes hanging limply on their hangers, your fingers trembling as you searched for something—anything—that screamed distraction. Your hand paused on a short black dress, the one you’d worn to a party months ago, the night you’d laughed too loud and let Kenny drag you onto the dance floor. You grabbed it without thinking, pulling it off the hanger and clutching it to your chest like it was a lifeline.

You needed out. Out of this room, out of your head, out of the suffocating guilt that threatened to consume you whole. And if a few drinks and a crowded room were the only way to get there, then so be it.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the makeup wipes on your desk, dabbing at the streaked mascara that had smudged across your cheeks. The image of your tear-streaked face in the mirror only deepened the knot of guilt and shame in your stomach, but you pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand. If you were going to do this—if you were going to escape your thoughts tonight—you couldn’t look like the emotional wreck you felt.

As you applied fresh eyeliner with trembling hands, you heard the familiar jingle of keys outside the door. The knob twisted, and Red stepped inside, her phone in hand and earbuds dangling from her neck. She stopped mid-step when she saw you at your desk, makeup wipes and half-finished cosmetics strewn across the surface.

“Whoa. What happened in here?” she asked, her voice lighter than the concerned look on her face.

You didn’t meet her gaze, focusing instead on lining your lips with the bold red lipstick that matched the armor you were trying to piece together. “Nothing,” you said quickly, your voice tight and unconvincing.

Red closed the door behind her, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took you in. She set her bag down on her bed and crossed her arms, leaning against the edge of the frame. “You don’t look like nothing.”

You swallowed hard, willing yourself to keep your composure. “I’m fine,” you insisted, though your shaking hands betrayed you as you applied a final swipe of mascara.

Red didn’t budge. “Fine,” she said slowly, drawing the word out. “Fine enough to be getting all dressed up for something. Where are you going?”

You capped the mascara with trembling fingers and turned to face her, forcing a smile that felt brittle. “I was going to ask if you’re going to any parties tonight,” you said, deflecting the question. “I thought I’d tag along.”

Red’s brows shot up in surprise, but she didn’t push the obvious lie. “Uh, yeah, I was gonna head to that Pi Kappa party. I heard it’s gonna be huge. Why, though? You haven’t wanted to go out in weeks.”

“I need to get out of here,” you said quickly, your voice too sharp and too quick. You softened it with a weak laugh. “Clear my head, you know? Blow off some steam.”

Her playful grin faltered, her expression softening with something you hated to see—pity. But, thankfully, Red wasn’t the type to prod too much. “Okay, babe. If you’re in, you’re in. Let me throw something on real quick, and we’ll Uber together.”

You nodded, relief mixing uneasily with the lingering ache in your chest as she turned to her closet. While Red rummaged for an outfit, you sat on the edge of your bed, staring at your reflection in the tiny mirror propped on your desk. The person staring back at you looked composed, ready for a party. But beneath the fresh makeup and tight dress, you were anything but.

“Okay, done!” Red chirped, snapping you out of your thoughts. She stood there in a sequined mini-dress that shimmered under the fluorescent dorm lights, her lips curling into an excited grin. “You ready, or are you still doing that thing where you stare at yourself like you’re in a bad movie montage?”

You forced a laugh, shaking your head. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

She grabbed her bag and slung an arm around your shoulders, leading you out of the room with her usual bright energy. Her chatter filled the silence as the two of you walked toward the dorm exit, her voice animated as she hyped up the party and gossiped about who might be there. You nodded along, grateful for the noise to drown out the storm in your head.

But no matter how loud Red’s voice was, or how bright the city lights were as the Uber carried you both toward the party, the knot in your stomach refused to loosen. You hoped the drinks would help. You hoped the crowd would distract you. You hoped you could forget, even if only for one night.

You hated alcohol—the taste, the burn, the way it made your stomach twist and churn. But tonight, you didn’t care. You didn’t want to care. All you wanted was to drown out the heavy, suffocating weight in your chest and replace it with something, anything, that felt lighter. Even if it came at the expense of your body.

The frat house was alive with music, laughter, and the faint haze of cigarette smoke wafting in from the backyard. Red tugged you inside, her arm looped tightly around yours as she greeted nearly everyone who crossed her path. Her energy was infectious, her voice rising over the thrum of the crowd as she exchanged hugs, jokes, and smiles with familiar faces.

You tried to mirror her enthusiasm, but it felt hollow. When she greeted Craig and Tweek, who were standing near the corner with Clyde and Tolkien, you forced a weak smile and waved. Their replies were friendly enough—Clyde even cracked a joke about your absence at previous parties—but their voices blended into the background noise.

Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the faces you knew: Jimmy and Butters at the beer pong table, Cartman and Kenny arguing over something near the kitchen, Wendy and Bebe chatting animatedly with Heidi and Nichole by the staircase. But there was no sign of Stan. Relief and disappointment mingled in your chest, twisting together in a way that made you feel like you couldn’t breathe.

“Be right back,” you mumbled to Red, slipping your arm free from hers before she could protest. “I’m gonna grab a drink.”

She nodded, already turning back to her conversation with Bebe, her laughter ringing out as you retreated toward the counter. Your hands trembled slightly as you scanned the selection—plastic cups, kegs, an assortment of bottles in varying states of emptiness. Your eyes landed on a bottle of vodka, the label peeling at the edges, and you grabbed it without hesitation.

No one was looking. No one cared.

You twisted the cap off and pressed the bottle to your lips, the sharp smell making your nose wrinkle. The first sip burned, and you nearly coughed, but you swallowed it down and took another. And another. The fire in your throat spread to your chest, and your stomach twisted in protest, but you ignored it. You kept drinking, the edges of the room blurring slightly as the alcohol began to take hold.

Your thoughts swirled, chaotic and relentless, as you clutched the bottle tighter. You hated how desperate you felt, how pathetic it was to stand in the corner of a party, drinking like your life depended on it. But you hated the silence in your head more—the voice that whispered that this was all your fault, that you’d ruined everything, that you deserved to feel this way.

You deserved it.

The vodka burned, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as everything else. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, setting the empty bottle back on the counter with a hollow clink. The world felt hazy now, the room swaying slightly as the alcohol settled into your system. You grabbed a red Solo cup and filled it halfway with whatever was closest—some dark, amber liquid that you didn’t bother to identify. You just needed to keep going, to stay numb.

You turned back toward the crowd, the cup clutched tightly in your hand. Your eyes scanned the room for Red, but instead, they landed on something that made your breath hitch.

Kyle was at the edge of the crowd, his hand wrapped firmly around Stan’s arm as he pulled him through the throng of people. Stan looked disheveled, his hoodie rumpled and his hair a mess. His face was pale, his eyes shadowed with something you couldn’t quite place, and he moved sluggishly, like he was trying to resist Kyle’s pull. Kyle leaned in, whispering something urgently into Stan’s ear, his expression tense.

Kyle’s eyes flicked up and met yours, and the world seemed to still for a moment. His lips pressed into a thin line, his brow furrowing slightly as he held your gaze. The knot in your stomach twisted tighter, and your breath felt caught in your throat.

Stan, noticing the shift in Kyle’s attention, turned his head to follow his gaze. When his eyes landed on you, his entire body seemed to lock up. His expression shifted in an instant—his jaw tightening, his eyes widening briefly before narrowing into something unreadable. He froze, his arm still in Kyle’s grip, and for a moment, it felt like the entire party had gone silent.

Then, as if jolted into action, Stan yanked his arm free from Kyle’s grasp and turned sharply, heading in the opposite direction. He didn’t even glance back as he pushed through the crowd, his movements stiff and hurried.

Your chest tightened painfully as you watched him retreat, the cup in your hand trembling slightly. Kyle turned back to you, his gaze softer now, almost apologetic. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but the distance between you made it impossible to hear.

You shook your head, breaking the stare, and looked down into your drink. The liquid swirled lazily in the cup, the faint smell of alcohol wafting up to meet you. You downed it in one go, ignoring the bitter taste, and wiped your mouth again.

Red appeared beside you then, her voice bright and oblivious. “There you are! Come on, they’re playing flip cup in the kitchen!”

You forced a smile, the edges of it wobbling. “Yeah,” you said, your voice hollow. “Let’s go.”

Red dragged you into the kitchen, her arm hooked around yours as she babbled on about the flip cup teams already forming. The room was buzzing with energy, laughter bouncing off the walls as drinks were poured and rules were loudly debated. You scanned the crowd and saw a mix of familiar faces—Clyde, Tweek, Craig, and even Bebe, who was already half-draped over a laughing Jimmy.

“You’re on my team,” Red declared, her grip on your arm tightening as she pulled you to her side. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and you managed a small smile despite the heavy knot still twisting in your stomach.

The game started, the air thick with playful shouts and competitive taunts. Red went first, downing her drink and flipping the cup expertly in one smooth motion. “Boom!” she cheered, throwing her hands in the air.

When it was your turn, you hesitated, the Solo cup trembling slightly in your hand. The alcohol buzzing through your veins dulled the sharp edges of your thoughts, and for the first time all night, you didn’t feel the crushing weight of everything on your chest. You took a deep breath, downed the drink in one gulp, and flipped the cup on your first try.

“Hell yeah!” Red whooped, clapping you on the back. “You’re a natural!”

The cheers and laughter from your team were louder now, and you couldn’t help but laugh along. The alcohol coursing through your system made everything feel lighter, fuzzier, and the tension in your chest loosened just a little more with every round. By the time you’d flipped three more cups flawlessly, you were grinning, your cheeks flushed with both alcohol and the heat of the crowded room.

“You’ve been holding out on us!” Clyde called, pointing at you with an exaggerated look of mock betrayal.

“Where’s this pro-level flip cup energy been hiding?” Red teased, nudging you with her elbow.

You shrugged, laughing as you reached for another drink. “Beginner’s luck,” you said, your voice lighter now, almost unrecognizable to yourself.

As the game went on, you found yourself laughing more, the warmth of the alcohol and the camaraderie of the group easing the heaviness in your chest. The laughter around you started to blur as you spotted him out of the corner of your eye—Stan, standing in the crowd, leaning against the wall with a girl you didn’t recognize. She was all legs and confidence, her hand lightly touching his arm as she giggled at something he said. You couldn’t hear them over the music and chatter, but whatever it was, it made Stan smirk. That smirk twisted something deep in your chest, something sharp and unexpected.

Jealousy.

You didn’t get jealous when Stan flirted with people. You’d seen it before, a million times, and it had always been just Stan being Stan. But this? The way he was looking at her? The way she was looking back? It made your stomach churn in a way you couldn’t explain.

Your grip tightened on the edge of the counter as you watched him. He must have felt your stare because his eyes flicked up, meeting yours across the room. For a split second, you thought you saw something flicker in his expression—hesitation, guilt, maybe even regret. But then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned down and kissed the girl.

Your breath hitched, disbelief freezing you in place. His lips moved against hers with purpose, his hands resting low on her waist as if he wanted to make sure you didn’t miss a single second of it. The girl looped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and your stomach dropped.

They were full-on making out now, right there in the middle of the party, and all you could do was stand there, your mouth hanging open as the world seemed to tilt on its axis. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman watching too. Kyle looked horrified, his brows furrowed in a deep, disapproving frown. Kenny had a smirk on his face, though his eyes flicked between you and Stan like he was watching a train wreck unfold. Cartman, of course, was laughing, the sound obnoxious and grating as he elbowed Kenny in the ribs.

Your blood boiled. The knot of anger and hurt in your chest exploded into a white-hot fury that you couldn’t contain. “Be right back,” you muttered to Red, your voice tight as you shoved your way through the crowd.

“Wait, where are you going?” Red called after you, but you didn’t answer. Your sights were locked on Stan, your pulse pounding in your ears as you marched toward him.

“What the fuck is your problem?” The words flew out of your mouth before you could even process them, your voice cutting through the party like a thunderclap. You weren’t even sure who you were directing them at—Stan, the girl, the situation itself—but as you stormed across the room, the alcohol buzzing hot and angry in your veins, your focus locked on her.

She turned to you, her perfectly manicured brows raising in surprise before they knit together in irritation. She didn’t flinch under your glare, instead tilting her head and looking you up and down like you were an inconvenience rather than a threat. That expression alone made your blood boil hotter.

Stan stood frozen, his face slack with shock, but you didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Not when the girl—the one he had just been making out with—was standing there, calm and collected, like she hadn’t just done something unforgivable.

“You,” you spat, pointing a shaky finger at her. “What the hell is wrong with you? You think it’s cute throwing yourself at someone like him?”

The room seemed to hush slightly around you, but the alcohol made you too numb to care. Your heart pounded against your ribs, your head swimming from the vodka and the rage coursing through you.

The girl arched an eyebrow, her lips twisting into a smirk. “Excuse me? Who even are you?” Her voice was sharp, disdain dripping from every word. “His fucking mom or something?”

Her tone was like a match to gasoline. Your vision blurred, your fists curling at your sides as you took another step toward her. “I’m the person who actually knows him,” you slurred, your words tumbling out unsteady but vicious. “Not some random nobody trying to get her claws into him.”

The girl’s face darkened, her smirk replaced by a scowl. “Oh, please,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “If you knew him so well, maybe you’d have done a better job keeping him.”

The words hit you like a slap, sharp and humiliating, and they cut deeper than you wanted to admit. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, tears threatening to prick at the corners of your eyes. But the vodka burned hotter, stronger, drowning out the shame with unrelenting anger.

“Desperate,” you sneered, your voice shaking as you leaned closer to her. “That’s what you are. Desperate enough to kiss a guy who’s clearly not even into you.”

She barked a laugh, the sound cold and mocking. “Desperate?” she repeated, her eyes flashing with disdain. “You’re the one making a scene over a guy who doesn’t give a shit about you.”

The room seemed to tilt, her words cutting through the haze of alcohol and hitting you square in the chest. Without thinking, without even registering the consequences, your hand swung out, the sound of the slap ringing through the air like a gunshot.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as her head snapped to the side, her hand flying up to her cheek. She stared at you, wide-eyed, for a single frozen moment before lunging forward.

“You psycho bitch!” she screamed, her voice shrill as her hands flew toward you. You barely registered the sharp pull at your hair as she grabbed at you, her nails scratching at your arm. You swung back instinctively, your movements clumsy and fueled by adrenaline, landing a hit on her shoulder.

Everything was chaos. People were shouting around you, their voices blending into an incoherent roar. You couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of your own heart, the way the room spun around you as the two of you clawed and yanked at each other.

“Hey! Stop it!” Kyle’s voice cut through the chaos, and suddenly, strong hands were gripping your waist, yanking you back. You struggled against him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you tried to shrug him off.

“Let me go, Kyle!” you shouted, your voice cracking as tears burned hot in your eyes. The fight, the alcohol, the shame—it was all too much.

“Not a fucking chance, perfect for each other, my ass,” Kyle snapped, his grip tightening as he pulled you farther away from the girl. Across the room, her friend was doing the same, holding her back as she glared daggers at you.

Stan hadn’t moved. He stood rooted to the spot, his face pale and his eyes wide with disbelief. The sight of him just standing there, saying nothing, doing nothing, made your chest ache with something raw and unbearable.

“You’re insane!” the girl yelled as her friend dragged her farther away, her voice echoing in your ears like a siren. “Fucking crazy!”

Kyle finally let go of you when he was sure the girl was out of reach, spinning you around to face him. His face was tight with frustration and concern, his brows furrowed deeply. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded, his voice low but filled with anger. “What were you thinking?”

You shoved past Kyle, your breath hitching in uneven gasps as you pushed through the crowd. The hallway blurred around you, voices and music melding into an unbearable hum. You found the bathroom door, yanked it open, and stumbled inside. Before you could slam it shut, Kyle’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist.

“Get off me,” you snapped, your voice breaking.

“Not a chance,” he shot back, his tone sharp and unforgiving. “You’ve already caused enough of a scene.”

Twisting your arm free, you stumbled toward the toilet, dropping to your knees as your stomach twisted violently. Before you could even think, you were retching, the sour burn of alcohol and bile scorching your throat. Shame burned hotter than the vomit, tears spilling down your face as you gagged.

Kyle let out a frustrated sigh but didn’t leave. Instead, he crouched behind you, gathering your hair in one hand and holding it back as you emptied your stomach. “Jesus, you’re a wreck,” he muttered, his voice laced with equal parts exasperation and concern.

You gasped for breath, your body trembling. “Leave me alone,” you croaked, but the words carried no conviction.

“Not happening,” Kyle snapped. “I’m not going to let you self-destruct because you’re too stubborn to deal with your shit.”

You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand, refusing to meet his gaze. “I’m fine,” you mumbled weakly.

Kyle scoffed, the sound harsh in the small bathroom. “Fine? You’re puking your guts out in a frat house bathroom after starting a fight with some random girl. Yeah, you’re real fine.”

You clenched your fists, anger flaring up alongside the shame. “Why do you even care?”

“Because someone has to!” he shot back, his voice rising. He loosened his grip on your hair but didn’t let go completely, his other hand gesturing wildly. “You’re acting just like Stan, you know that? All this drinking, picking fights, spiraling out like you’re trying to hit rock bottom as fast as you can.”

You flinched at the comparison, your stomach twisting for an entirely different reason now. “Don’t,” you whispered, but Kyle wasn’t done.

“Oh, no, I’m saying it,” he continued, his eyes blazing. “No? So what, you just ‘accidentally’ used Stan, picked a fight with some random girl, and drank yourself into oblivion? Grow up. Take some responsibility for once.”

Your head snapped up, and you stared at him, wide-eyed, your breath catching in your throat. “What did you just say?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Stan… he told you?”

Kyle’s expression didn’t waver. If anything, his gaze hardened. “Of course he didn’t tell me,” he said sharply, crossing his arms. “He didn’t have to. We’ve known Stan since we were kids—I can see the signs. He’s been a fucking wreck since that night you got with Damien. Do you think I wouldn’t put it together?”

Your heart sank, a pit forming in your stomach that had nothing to do with the alcohol. You hadn’t realized it was so obvious, hadn’t considered that Kyle—or anyone—would notice the cracks in Stan’s carefully constructed façade.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks again. “I—”

Kyle cut you off with a bitter laugh. “You didn’t mean to?” he repeated, his voice biting. “Then what the hell were you doing? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve been on a one-way trip to self-destruction and decided to drag Stan down with you.”

“I hate myself,” you choked out, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t—”

Kyle’s hand tightened on your shoulder, not unkindly, but firmly enough to ground you. His voice softened just a fraction, though the frustration still lingered. “Then fix it,” he said, his tone quieter but still firm. “Before there’s nothing left of either of you to fix.”

You buried your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking as you sobbed. Kyle stayed for a moment longer, then finally stood, reaching for the toilet paper. He handed them to you without a word, his expression unreadable.

“Clean yourself up,” he said as he turned to leave. “And figure out what the hell you want, because this? This isn’t it.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with the sound of your ragged breathing and the reflection of a stranger in the mirror. Smudged makeup, tear-streaked cheeks, and hollow eyes stared back at you, and for the first time, you wondered if Kyle was right.

Maybe it wasn’t Stan or anyone else you were hurting the most.

Maybe it was yourself.

You sat on the cold bathroom floor, the sobs wracking your body so violently that it felt like your chest might cave in. Your cries echoed off the tiled walls, raw and unrelenting. There was no point in trying to quiet yourself—no one left to pretend for. You buried your face in your knees, the damp fabric of your clothes soaking up your tears.

The sound of the door creaking open barely registered through your haze, but the quiet shuffle of footsteps did. A moment later, you felt someone kneel in front of you. You lifted your head slightly, your blurry vision focusing on Kenny’s face. His usual smirk and mischief were nowhere to be found. Instead, his expression was soft, his brow creased in concern.

At the sight of him, the sobs came harder, spilling out of you like a dam breaking. Your hands flew up to cover your face, shielding yourself from his gaze, from his pity.

Kenny didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He reached over to the crumpled sheets of toilet paper Kyle gave you, forgotten on the bathroom counter. Slowly and carefully, he began wiping at the streaks of mascara and tears staining your cheeks. His touch was steady, almost too kind, and it made the guilt inside you churn like acid.

“Stop,” you choked out, your voice cracking, though you didn’t mean it. “Why are you… why are you doing this?”

Kenny paused briefly, his gaze flicking to yours before he continued wiping at your face. “Because someone needs to,” he said simply, his tone calm but firm. “And because you obviously can’t right now.”

His words broke something inside you, and your hands dropped limply to your lap, letting him finish his task. He worked in silence, each swipe of the tissue a quiet reminder of just how far you’d unraveled.

When he finally tossed the crumpled tissue aside, you whispered, “I screwed up, Kenny. I messed everything up so bad, I—I don’t even know how to fix it.”

He sat back on his heels, watching you for a moment. “Yeah, you did,” he said bluntly, his honesty cutting through you like a knife. “But sitting here crying isn’t going to fix it.”

Your throat tightened, and you nodded faintly. “I just… she didn’t deserve that,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “The girl, the one I fought with. She didn’t do anything wrong. I just—I don’t even know why I went after her like that.”

Kenny leaned back against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest as he studied you. “You know why,” he said, his tone quiet but pointed.

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Because I’m a mess? Because I can’t deal with my own shit, so I decided to take it out on some innocent girl? She was just… there, and I hated her for it.”

He shrugged, his gaze unwavering. “At least you’re owning up to it now. That’s a start.”

“I’m a terrible person,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands again. “Stan… he’s better off without me. Everyone is.”

Kenny didn’t respond right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, more measured. “Maybe you are a mess. And maybe you’ve screwed up a lot. But you’re not beyond fixing. You just have to stop running from everything. From Stan, from yourself.”

You sniffled, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “What if it’s too late?”

“It’s only too late if you keep doing this,” he said, gesturing to the bathroom, the remnants of your breakdown still visible. “Start being honest. Own your shit. That’s the only way you’re gonna move forward.”

His words hung heavy in the air, sinking into you in a way that left you feeling raw but strangely steady. For the first time, you felt a flicker of resolve, faint but real.

Kenny sighed and pushed himself to his feet, holding out a hand to you. “Come on,” he said, offering a small, tired smile. “Let’s get you cleaned up before Red comes in and loses her mind.”

You hesitated before taking his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Kenny said with a faint smirk. “I’m still debating if I should charge you for this therapy session babe.”

You let out a weak, breathy laugh that barely felt real and let him lead you out of the bathroom. Your hand clung tightly to his, like letting go would drop you into some void you weren’t sure you could climb out of. Kenny glanced back, catching the death grip you had on his hand, and chuckled under his breath.

“Relax, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, though the softness in his voice was a sharp contrast to his usual teasing tone.

The music and the noise of the party hit you like a wave as the two of you stepped back into the crowd. People danced, shouted, and laughed in every corner, the chaotic energy of the house thrumming against your skin. Kenny navigated the sea of bodies with ease, tugging you along as if it was second nature.

Then you saw her. The girl from earlier. She stood with her friends across the room, and their conversation came to an abrupt halt when they spotted you. Her glare was sharp, and you could feel the animosity radiating off her group as they stared. A lump rose in your throat, but you refused to shrink under their gaze.

Before you could stop yourself, you stuck your tongue out at her—a childish, stupid gesture that you regretted immediately but couldn’t take back. Her expression darkened, her friends whispering among themselves before one of them dramatically rolled her eyes and turned away.

Cartman’s raucous laugh broke through the tension, loud enough to make your head snap toward him. He was a few feet away, holding a red solo cup and grinning like a hyena.

“You’re a goddamn disaster,” Cartman wheezed, swaggering over to you and Kenny with a look of absolute delight. “Holy shit, this is better than reality TV.”

“Fuck off, fatass,” Kenny muttered, clearly unimpressed.

But Cartman wasn’t paying attention to him. Instead, he leaned down toward you, his breath reeking of beer, and whispered something that made your stomach plummet.

“Stan’s watching you. Just thought you’d want to know.”

Your body went rigid, and your grip on Kenny’s hand tightened instinctively. You hated how Cartman’s words set off a flurry of nerves in your chest, but you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing across the room. And there he was.

Stan was leaning against the far wall, his expression carefully neutral, but his eyes weren’t on you. They were on Wendy, who was standing beside him, gesturing animatedly as she spoke. He wasn’t looking at her, though. His gaze was distant, unfocused—until it suddenly snapped to you.

The weight of his stare knocked the air out of your lungs. Your stomach twisted as his expression hardened, his jaw tightening slightly. Wendy noticed, following his line of sight, and when her eyes landed on you, her brows furrowed.

Cartman’s grin widened. “Oof, triangle vibes. Messy as hell,” he muttered, stepping back with a laugh.

“Dude seriously, shut the hell up,” Kenny said sharply, tugging you forward before you could spiral further.

“Let’s just… move,” you mumbled, voice trembling as you ripped your gaze away from Stan and Wendy. Kenny gave you a knowing look but didn’t press, instead tugging you toward the other side of the room.

You spotted Kyle near the drinks table, engaged in what looked like a heated debate with Tolkien, his hands gesturing wildly as he made his point. Kenny let go of your hand and went to interrupt, leaning casually into the conversation like he hadn’t just been babysitting your emotional meltdown moments earlier.

Red appeared seemingly out of nowhere, slipping up beside you with a grin. “Well, well, look who’s causing chaos and stealing the show,” she teased, nudging you with her elbow. “That fight back there? Iconic. The stuff of legends.”

You gave her a weak smile, but the lightness in her tone made your stomach churn. “It wasn’t… I shouldn’t have—”

“Relax,” she interrupted, brushing off your guilt like it was nothing. “She had it coming, I’m sure. Besides, you looked badass.”

“I don’t think that’s the takeaway here,” Kyle interjected sharply, stepping away from Tolkien and Kenny to join you. His gaze was serious as he folded his arms over his chest. “What’s the plan here, huh? Keep ignoring each other until the tension finally explodes and ruins everyone else’s good time?”

Your stomach dropped. “Kyle, I—”

“No, don’t even try,” he cut you off, his tone exasperated but not unkind. “You and Stan need to figure your shit out. It’s making everything worse—for you, for him, for everyone.”

You glanced at Kenny, hoping for some kind of backup, but he just shrugged like he agreed with Kyle. “He’s got a point,” Kenny said, sipping casually from his solo cup. “This whole cold war thing? It’s exhausting.”

Kyle stepped closer, lowering his voice but keeping it firm. “If you two don’t talk by the end of the week, I swear to God, I’ll step in myself. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

You blinked at him, stunned. “What do you mean you’ll step in?”

“I’ll lock you two in a room, throw away the key, and let you sort it out like adults,” Kyle said flatly, but there was an edge of humor in his voice that didn’t quite soften the weight of his words. “Or maybe just yell at both of you until one of you finally cracks. Either way, this has to end.”

You didn’t know what to say. The idea of talking to Stan, of facing everything head-on, felt insurmountable. But Kyle’s stare didn’t waver, and the weight of his words settled heavy on your chest.

“Fine,” you muttered, barely audible. “I’ll try to talk to him.”

“Good,” Kyle said, satisfied. He turned back to Kenny, who was smirking into his drink like this was all some kind of sitcom. Red just gave you a sly grin and a thumbs up, clearly amused by the whole exchange.

But you didn’t feel amused. You felt like the ground beneath you was crumbling, and the thought of confronting Stan made your stomach twist into knots. Still, you knew Kyle was right.

Stan lay motionless on his bed, the faded ceiling tiles above blurring into nothingness as his chest tightened with every passing second. The air in the dorm room felt thick, suffocating, like it was trying to choke him out. His phone buzzed once from the desk where he’d abandoned it—just like he’d abandoned you. He didn’t even need to check to know it wasn’t you this time. You’d stopped trying a few days ago, and the silence was worse than the calls ever had been.

Kyle was at his desk, typing something furiously. Stan didn’t care. He barely registered anything outside his own head these days. His mind kept circling back to that night, the way your voice had cracked, the way you’d called him out in front of everyone, and worst of all, the way you’d gone after that girl.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the memory still played like some sick, never-ending movie. You screaming, your voice loud and shrill and full of venom. That slap—sharp, unforgiving, echoing through the room. Stan’s stomach churned just thinking about it. She hadn’t done anything to you. Nothing but exist, but smile at him, but… but what? Be the wrong girl at the wrong time?

You don’t even know her name, asshole.

But that didn’t stop him from standing there, frozen, as everything spiraled out of control. He could still hear Wendy’s voice in his head, soft but firm as she pulled him aside after it was all over.

“She’s a mess, Stan,” Wendy had said, her eyes piercing through him like she already knew everything. “And you’re making it worse for her. For yourself.” She’d put a hand on his shoulder, her touch grounding in a way that should have helped but didn’t. “You need to figure out what you want. Otherwise, this is just going to destroy both of you.”

He’d nodded like he understood, like any of it made sense, but inside he felt like he was fucking disintegrating. The guilt, the anger, the shame—they were eating him alive. He’d wanted to scream at Wendy, to tell her to fuck off, to say that this wasn’t her problem—but he didn’t. Because she was right. She was always right. And that only made it worse.

“You gonna talk to her?” Kyle’s voice cut through the silence like a knife, snapping Stan out of his thoughts.

He stayed silent for a moment, his jaw tightening as he stared at the same goddamn spot on the ceiling he’d been fixated on for hours. “No,” he muttered finally, his voice flat and lifeless.

Kyle let out a frustrated sigh, the sound grating against Stan’s nerves. “Seriously? You’re just gonna sit here and do nothing? That’s your plan?”

“Fuck off, Kyle,” Stan said, his tone harsher than he intended. He didn’t care.

The scrape of Kyle’s chair against the floor made Stan flinch. He heard Kyle move closer, felt the weight of his stare like a physical thing pressing down on him.

“You’re unbelievable,” Kyle said, his voice low and bitter. “You can’t keep running from this. From her.”

Stan didn’t respond. What was the point? Kyle didn’t understand. Nobody fucking understood.

The door slammed shut behind Kyle, leaving Stan alone with his thoughts again. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he replayed the scene from the party for the millionth time—the way you’d looked at him, furious and hurt and drunk off your ass. The way you’d lashed out at that girl, the sound of the slap still ringing in his ears.

What the fuck had you been thinking? What the fuck had he been thinking, letting it get this far?

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to shove the memories aside, but it was useless. They were always there, lurking in the back of his mind. Wendy’s words echoed louder now, and they felt like a slap to the face. You’re making it worse for her. For yourself.

But how the fuck was he supposed to fix this? He wasn’t good at fixing things. He was good at ruining them. And you—you didn’t deserve to be dragged down with him. You deserved better. Better than him. Better than the wreckage he left in his wake.

His chest felt like it was caving in as the weight of it all pressed down on him. He thought about you crying, about the way you’d looked at him when he kissed that girl, about the way you’d tried so fucking hard to act like what happened between you didn’t mean anything when it meant everything.

Maybe Kyle was right. Maybe he needed to figure out what the hell he wanted. But as he lay there, his body heavy and his mind drowning in guilt and shame, one thing became painfully clear:

He didn’t deserve you. And he sure as hell didn’t deserve forgiveness.

Some time has passed, and Stan hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed. The ceiling tiles blurred together as he stared blankly, his thoughts a mess of self-loathing and memories he wished he could erase. The muffled sound of yelling seeped through the door, but he chalked it up to his imagination. He was used to noise in his head.

But then the screaming grew louder, sharper. It wasn’t in his head. It was outside.

Before he could sit up to make sense of it, the door burst open, slamming against the wall with a bang. Stan flinched, his head snapping toward the noise as Kyle stepped into the room, dragging you behind him.

You were a whirlwind of rage, your voice raw and cracked as you hurled accusations and protests at Kyle. “Kyle, I swear to God—” But the moment your eyes locked on Stan, everything came to a screeching halt.

The room was thick with silence.

Stan sat frozen, his breath caught in his throat as he stared at you. Your hair was a mess, your cheeks flushed from exertion, and your makeup was smeared—but it was your eyes that hit him the hardest. Red-rimmed, puffy, and filled with something he couldn’t quite name. Anger? Hurt? Desperation? Maybe all of it.

Kyle, panting slightly from wrangling you all the way here, broke the tense silence. “The two of you are gonna talk this out,” he said, his voice firm and unforgiving. “You’re not leaving this room until you do. I’ll be right outside, so don’t even think about trying to get out.”

Before either of you could argue, Kyle shoved you further into the room and stepped back, slamming the door shut behind him. The sound of the lock clicking into place echoed ominously.

Stan stared at the door, his heart hammering in his chest. He could hear Kyle’s muffled voice outside, probably telling someone off, but it was distant compared to the deafening silence in the room.

“You’re just gonna sit there?” Your voice broke through, sharp and biting.

Stan looked at you then, really looked at you, and felt the weight of everything between you crash over him. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, your voice trembling as you crossed your arms over your chest. “You’re really just gonna sit there like this is nothing?”

“It’s not nothing,” Stan finally croaked, his voice low and rough. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Then say something!” you snapped, stepping closer. “Because I’m standing here, trying, and you’re just… just—” You gestured helplessly, your voice cracking on the last word.

Stan sat up slowly, his hands gripping the edge of the bed as he tried to find the right words. “I didn’t ask Kyle to do this,” he said finally, his tone defensive, but weak.

You let out a bitter laugh, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, because God forbid you actually confront anything.”

Stan flinched, the words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. He looked down at his hands, his knuckles white from gripping the edge of the mattress. “What’s the point of this?” he asked, his voice quiet but edged with something raw. “You didn’t want to be here, and I sure as hell didn’t ask for this either. So why even bother?”

Your anger faltered for a moment, your expression softening before it hardened again. “Because I’m tired of this, Stan. I’m tired of us pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. I’m tired of not knowing what the hell we even are. And I’m tired of you avoiding me.”

Stan’s jaw tightened, and he looked up at you with a mix of guilt and frustration. “You think I’m avoiding you because I don’t care? Because I don’t want to deal with it?” He stood abruptly, the sudden movement making you take a step back. “I’m avoiding you because I can’t fucking handle it. Any of it. You. Us. That night.” His voice cracked, and he turned away, running a hand through his hair.

You blinked, stunned into silence for a moment before the anger surged back. “So what? You just decided to shut me out instead? To let me sit there and drown in my own guilt while you—what? Pretend I don’t exist?”

Stan let out a humorless laugh, his back still to you. “Guilt?” He turned then, his eyes blazing. “You think you’re the only one who feels guilty? I haven’t been able to fucking sleep because every time I close my eyes, all I can think about is how much I’ve screwed everything up.”

The room fell silent again, the weight of his words hanging heavy between you.

“Stan…” Your voice was softer now, hesitant.

He shook his head, his shoulders sagging. “I don’t know what I’m doing, okay? I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t even know if it can be fixed.”

You stepped closer, your own anger fading as you looked at him—really looked at him. The dark circles under his eyes, the way his hands were trembling slightly at his sides. “It’s not all on you to fix,” you said quietly. “I messed up too. I—” Your voice faltered, and you looked away. “I’m sorry for how I handled things. For that night. For everything.”

Stan’s gaze softened, and for a moment, he looked like he might reach for you. But then he took a step back, his walls going up again. “Sorry doesn’t change anything,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill. “I know. But it’s a start.”

You hesitated before sitting down next to him on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under your weight, and for a moment, you thought he might move away, but he didn’t. Your hands fidgeted in your lap as you stared down at them, the lump in your throat growing heavier with each passing second.

“I… I cut things off with Damien,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt heavier than you expected, like you were exhaling something you’d been holding onto for too long. You hadn’t planned to say it like this, hadn’t planned for your voice to break halfway through, but the weight of everything was too much to hold back.

Stan turned his head slightly toward you, his brows knitting together, but he still didn’t say anything. His silence was unbearable, and you felt like you had to fill the void before it consumed you.

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t keep pretending that it was working,” you continued, the tears spilling before you could stop them. “Not when I—” You bit your lip, cutting yourself off. You couldn’t say it. Not yet.

Stan’s gaze finally lifted to meet yours, his blue eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite place. Hurt? Anger? Something else entirely? You didn’t know, and the not knowing only made your chest ache more.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse. It wasn’t accusatory, but it wasn’t kind either. It was cautious, like he didn’t know what to do with the information you’d just given him.

Your shoulders trembled as you took a shaky breath, swiping at your wet cheeks. “Because you deserve to know,” you said, forcing yourself to look at him even though it hurt. “You deserve to know that I…” You hesitated, your throat tightening around the words. “That I messed everything up. That I hurt you. And I hate myself for it.”

Stan’s expression flickered, something almost imperceptible crossing his face, but he quickly masked it. He let out a sharp exhale, his hands running through his hair as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Cutting things off with Damien doesn’t change anything,” he muttered, his voice cold and distant. “It doesn’t fix what happened. It doesn’t fix what you did.”

Your heart clenched at his words, but you nodded. “I know,” you whispered. “I’m not trying to fix it. I just… I just wanted you to know that it’s over. That he’s not part of this anymore.”

Stan let out a humorless laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly. “It was never about him,” he said, his voice dripping with bitterness. “It was about us. Or whatever the hell this is.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you, his frustration spilling over. “And I don’t even know what that means anymore.”

You swallowed hard, the sting of his words cutting through you like a knife. “I don’t either,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “But I miss you, Stan. I miss us. And I’m sorry—God, I’m so sorry.”

Stan’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as he stared down at the floor. The room was heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid, the air thick with tension and regret. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence wrapping around you like a shroud.

Finally, Stan lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in weeks. “You don’t get to just say sorry and expect it to fix everything,” he said, his voice trembling. “But… I don’t know. Maybe I needed to hear it anyway.”

You nodded slowly, your throat tightening as the tears streamed unchecked down your cheeks. It was hard to meet Stan’s eyes—those blue eyes that had seen you at your worst, that now held a mixture of exhaustion and guarded curiosity. But you forced yourself to speak, your voice trembling with every word.

“I—” you started, your voice cracking immediately. You cleared your throat and tried again. “I thought… that night in my dorm… I thought if I could make you forget, even just for a little while, that maybe you’d feel better. That whatever you were dealing with, whatever was hurting you, it wouldn’t feel so heavy.”

Stan blinked, his expression hardening slightly, but he stayed quiet. His silence felt like a double-edged sword—an invitation to continue, but also a sharp reminder of how much your actions had hurt him.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” you went on, your voice quieter now, each word weighing down on your chest. “I just… I’ve seen you spiral before, Stan. I’ve seen what it does to you, how it eats you alive. And I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Stan let out a sharp exhale, leaning back slightly and running a hand through his hair. “So your solution was to use me?” he asked, his tone bitter but not as sharp as it could’ve been. “You thought making me… what, lose myself in you would somehow fix everything?”

“I wasn’t trying to use you!” you shouted, your voice sharp and raw. “How could you even say that? You think I wanted to hurt you? You think I wanted to make things worse?”

Stan flinched at your outburst but didn’t say anything. His silence only fueled your anger, the dam of your emotions cracking wide open.

“I just wanted to make you feel better!” you screamed, the words tumbling out of you in a messy, desperate rush. “I didn’t know what else to do, Stan! You were falling apart, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t just sit there and watch you drown!”

His head jerked up, his blue eyes blazing with emotion. “So what? You thought kissing me, escalating things—doing all of that would somehow fix me?” His voice cracked, the hurt in it cutting you deeper than you thought possible. “Dude, do you know how fucked up that is?”

“I know it’s fucked up!” you yelled back, your voice shaking as fresh tears spilled down your face. “I know I handled it wrong, okay? I know I made a mess of everything, and I hate myself for it! But I wasn’t using you, Stan. I swear to God, I wasn’t.”

Stan stared at you, his jaw tightening, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress so hard his knuckles turned white. “Then what the hell were you doing?” he demanded, his voice quieter but no less intense. “What was all of that supposed to be?”

You hesitated, your breath hitching as your emotions threatened to swallow you whole. You looked down at your lap, shaking your head as you sobbed uncontrollably. “I—I was trying to help you,” you stammered. “I just wanted to see you smile again. I wanted to make you feel something good—anything other than what you were feeling.”

Stan’s eyes softened, but his expression remained guarded. “And that’s supposed to make it okay?” he asked, his tone laced with disbelief.

“No, it doesn’t make it okay!” you shot back, your voice cracking as you threw your hands in the air. “Nothing about this is okay! But I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Stan. I just… I just…”

You sucked in a ragged breath, the words bubbling up before you could stop them. “I love you, okay?” you shouted, the confession bursting from you like a wound splitting open. “I love you, and I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember! And I didn’t know what to do when I saw you falling apart, and I panicked, and I made a mistake!”

The room fell deathly silent, your words hanging heavy in the air. Stan’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parting as he stared at you, stunned into silence.

You buried your face in your hands, sobbing harder now, the weight of your confession crashing down on you. “I know I screwed up. I know what I did was wrong. But I swear to you, Stan, I just wanted to help. I just wanted to make it better.”

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The sound of your crying filled the room, raw and unrelenting, as Stan sat frozen beside you. Finally, he exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair as his own emotions threatened to spill over.

“Why didn’t you just talk to me?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before it got so… so fucked up?”

You shook your head, your words muffled behind your hands. “Because I was scared,” you admitted. “Scared that you’d hate me, scared that I’d lose you, scared that I’d mess everything up—and I did anyway.”

Stan let out a bitter laugh, though it sounded more like a sob. “Yeah, you did,” he said quietly, his voice trembling. “But… I’m not blameless either.”

You looked up at him through tear-streaked eyes, your breath catching as you saw the raw vulnerability etched across his face. His hands trembled as they rested on his knees, and his gaze flickered between you and the floor.

“Why do you hate Damien so much?” you asked softly, your voice trembling as you tried to bridge the chasm between you. “And why did you… start to spiral after that night? After we practiced?”

“You want to know why I spiraled?” he asked, his voice low and rough. He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Because seeing you happy with Damien—seeing you in a relationship—made me realize something I’d been too scared to admit to myself for years.”

You stayed silent, your breath hitching as you waited for him to continue. His blue eyes, rimmed red from unshed tears, locked onto yours.

“It made me realize I’ve always loved you,” Stan confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, but the words carried a weight that seemed to fill the entire room. “Since we were kids. Through everything. You’ve always been there, and I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe it was just friendship or something, but seeing you with him—watching you look at him the way I’ve always wanted you to look at me—made it impossible to ignore.”

Your heart clenched painfully, and your tears spilled over as his words sank in. “Stan…” you breathed, your voice trembling.

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying this to guilt you or make you feel bad. I know I screwed up too, okay? I know I pushed you away when I should’ve just been honest. But watching you be with someone else made me realize how much I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me. And it fucking killed me, because I wanted to be the one who made you happy. I’ve always wanted to be that person.”

You felt like your heart was breaking and mending all at once, the weight of his confession crashing over you. “I didn’t know…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Of course, you didn’t,” Stan said, his tone softer now, tinged with resignation. “I never told you. I didn’t even let myself admit it until it was too late. But it’s the truth. It’s always been you.”

Tears blurred your vision, and you reached out hesitantly, your hand brushing against his arm. “Stan,” you said, your voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know I was making you feel like that.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and something else—something softer, more fragile. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know you didn’t mean to. And I don’t blame you for moving on or trying to be happy. I just… I couldn’t handle it. And that’s on me.”

The silence stretched again, heavy but different this time, as if something had shifted between you. Finally, Stan let out a deep breath, leaning back against the wall. “I don’t know if things can ever go back to the way they were,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel this way. I’ve loved you my whole damn life, and I don’t know how to stop.”

The words hung heavy in the air, the weight of Stan’s confession pressing against your chest. Your breath caught, your pulse pounding in your ears as you searched his face, taking in every crack in his composure, every flicker of raw emotion in his eyes.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But I know I don’t want to lose you, Stan. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

His gaze flickered to yours, hesitant and vulnerable, as if he was bracing himself for whatever came next. “You didn’t lose me,” he said softly. “I don’t think you ever could.”

The knot in your stomach loosened just slightly at his words, but the ache in your chest remained. Slowly, you leaned in closer, your hands trembling as you reached out to cup his face. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, and you could feel the faintest tremor in his jaw as he looked up at you.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart hammered against your ribs as the words left your mouth, the question carrying more weight than you could have ever anticipated.

Stan’s eyes widened for a moment, his breath hitching. He didn’t answer right away, and for a terrifying second, you thought you might have pushed too far, too fast. But then, he nodded, just once, his gaze locked on yours.

You leaned in slowly, your heart in your throat as you closed the gap between you. Your lips brushed his, soft and tentative, like you were both testing the waters, afraid of drowning but too desperate to stay away. His breath hitched again, but then his hands came up, one settling on the curve of your waist, the other tangling gently in your hair.

The kiss deepened, and for a moment, everything else fell away. The guilt, the fear, the pain—it all melted into the background, leaving just the two of you, tangled up in the unspoken truths and years of emotions that had finally come to light.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, your breaths mingling in the space between you. “Stan,” you murmured, your voice shaky but resolute. “I don’t know if I can make up for everything. But I want to try.”

His eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a mixture of disbelief and something softer, something fragile but unbreakable. “Me too,” he whispered, his voice rough but sincere. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Stan’s breath hitched as your lips met his again, the sudden intensity catching him off guard. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his like you were afraid he might vanish if you didn’t hold on tight enough. He froze for a split second, his heart slamming against his ribcage, before his hands found your waist, steadying you.

What the hell is happening? The thought raced through his mind, tangled with a thousand others—your warmth, the softness of your lips, the way your fingers threaded through his hair like you were trying to memorize every strand. He felt dizzy, like the world had been tilted on its axis and he was still trying to find his balance.

She loves me. The words echoed in his head, impossible and overwhelming. She actually loves me.

He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve you. And yet, here you were, holding him like he was something worth holding onto, kissing him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin as if to reassure himself this was real.

She’s not pulling away. That realization sent a bolt of something electric through his chest. All the years of pining, of watching you from afar, of convincing himself he could never have this—it all dissolved in the heat of your kiss.

But there was still a tiny voice in the back of his mind, nagging and relentless. What if she regrets this? What if you’re just another distraction, another mistake she’ll hate herself for later? The thought made his stomach twist, but he shoved it down, focusing on the way your lips moved against his, the way your body felt pressed against his.

As you shifted in his lap, pulling yourself impossibly closer, Stan let out a quiet gasp, his hands instinctively gripping your hips. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out the world around him. You pulled back just slightly, your forehead resting against his as your breaths mingled in the charged space between you.

“I can’t believe this is real,” he murmured, his voice cracking. His fingers traced slow, hesitant patterns on your waist, his touch light but grounding. “I’ve spent my whole life wanting this, wanting you.”

You smiled softly, your hands framing his face as you looked at him with an intensity that made his chest ache. “It’s real,” you whispered, your voice trembling but certain. “I’m here, Stan. I’m not going anywhere.”

He wanted to believe you. Wanted to believe that he could have this, that he could have you. But the fear still lingered, a shadow he couldn’t quite shake. Still, as you leaned in and kissed him again, Stan let himself forget about the doubts, the guilt, the pain—just for a little while.

Stan blinked, still dazed from the kiss, as he felt you hide your face against his neck. Your breath was warm against his skin, your words spilling out in a nervous tumble.

“Is this okay?” you asked, your voice muffled and trembling. “I mean, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I’m not trying to use you, I swear. If you’re not okay with this, just tell me, and I’ll stop. I’ll—”

Stan’s arms instinctively tightened around you, cutting off your rambling. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice low but steady. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You pulled back just slightly, your eyes searching his with a mix of uncertainty and vulnerability. Your cheeks were flushed, and your lips were slightly swollen from the kiss, and it hit him all over again just how real this moment was.

“I mean it,” you said, your voice cracking. “I’ll stop if you want me to. I don’t want to mess this up, Stan. I—” You stopped yourself, biting your lip as tears welled in your eyes.

Stan reached up, his thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek. His heart clenched at the sight of you so raw and open, and he realized how much he hated seeing you like this—so unsure of yourself, so afraid.

“Stop,” he said gently, his voice carrying a softness he didn’t know he was capable of. “You don’t need to explain yourself. You’re not using me. I promise you’re not.” He let out a shaky breath, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb traced the edge of your jaw. “And if I wasn’t okay with this, I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t be here like this with you.”

You stared at him, your breath hitching, and he could see the conflict in your eyes—the doubt, the guilt, the lingering fear that you were somehow doing something wrong. But he wasn’t going to let you spiral. Not now.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Stan admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared too, okay? I don’t know if we’re doing this right, or if we’re gonna screw it up, but…” He paused, his thumb still brushing your cheek, grounding both of you. “I don’t care. I just know I want to figure it out with you.”

Your lip quivered as you looked at him. Without thinking, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. “Thank you,” you whispered against his shoulder, your voice choked with emotion.

Stan let out a small, relieved laugh, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly. “We’re in this together, okay? No more overthinking. No more guilt. Just… us.”

You pulled back slightly, your heart hammering in your chest as you looked into Stan’s eyes. They were so close, so full of emotion that it made your breath hitch. The words spilled out of you before you could stop them, raw and unfiltered.

“Can I be yours?” you asked, your voice trembling. “I mean… officially? I want to be your girlfriend, Stan.”

Stan froze, his lips parting slightly as the words settled between you. His hands, still resting on your back, tightened their hold ever so slightly. His brows knit together, a mix of hesitation and disbelief crossing his face.

“You really want that?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost unsure. “Even after everything I’ve put you through?”

You nodded without hesitation. “Yes. I’ve made mistakes too, and I know I hurt you, but I’ve never been more sure of anything. I love you, and I don’t want to keep pretending like I don’t.”

His breath hitched, and he exhaled sharply, his eyes softening as he took in your words. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” he murmured, his voice thick. He paused, searching your face for any sign of doubt, before letting out a small, shaky laugh. “Yeah. You can be mine. You’ve always been mine, really.”

Your chest felt like it might explode, the sheer weight of the moment leaving you breathless. Before you could stop yourself, you asked, “So… you’ll be mine too?”

Stan blinked at you, his lips twitching into a faint, lopsided smile. “I wanna be your boyfriend,” he said simply. His voice was rough, but there was an undeniable sincerity in his tone. “I wanna do it right this time. Dates, hand-holding, all of it. I wanna go on walks with you—just us.”

Tears stung your eyes, but they weren’t from sadness. Relief, joy, and overwhelming affection coursed through you. “I want that too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but sure.

Stan’s hands moved to cradle your face. He leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. The kiss deepened, your breath hitching as you pressed closer to him. Every brush of his lips against yours sent sparks through your body, and you felt a quiet desperation in the way you clung to him, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, the intensity of the moment making it hard to breathe.

Stan’s lips curved against yours, and you could feel the faintest hint of a smile as he pulled back just slightly. His forehead rested against yours, and his voice was soft but tinged with amusement. “You’re, uh… getting a little carried away there, dude,” he teased, his own breathing uneven.

Your face burned, and you tried to pull back, but his hands stayed firm on your waist, grounding you. “Sorry,” you mumbled, your voice shaky as your eyes darted away. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey,” Stan interrupted gently, tilting your chin so you’d look at him again. His blue eyes were warm, filled with something so soft and unguarded that it made your chest ache. “I didn’t say I minded.”

You bit your lip, a small, nervous laugh escaping you as you tried to steady yourself. “I just… I really want this to work, Stan. I don’t want to mess anything up.”

“You won’t,” he said firmly, his thumbs brushing soft circles on your hips. “We’ve both screwed up enough to know what we don’t want. This… this is what I want.” His voice lowered, his words carrying an almost reverent weight. “You’re what I want.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they didn’t spill. Instead, you leaned in and kissed him again, slower, softer, but no less fervent. The way his hands moved, holding you as if you might disappear, made your heart swell.

You shifted slightly in his grasp, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The soft rustle of fabric drew Stan’s attention, and his hands instinctively tightened their grip on your waist as you pulled the shirt over your head, leaving you in just your bra.

“Is this okay?” you asked, your voice trembling with nervousness, your eyes locked onto his for any sign of hesitation. Your cheeks burned, your vulnerability on full display, but the warmth in his gaze made your pulse race.

Stan swallowed hard, his eyes flickering over you before quickly darting back to your face. “Y-Yeah,” he said, his voice a little shaky but sincere. “But… you don’t have to do this just because you think you need to.”

“I’m not,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I just— I want to be close to you, Stan. I want this to feel… right. With you.”

His breath hitched, and he reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “It already does,” he murmured, his voice softer now, steadier. “You don’t have to do anything to prove that.”

You bit your lip, your heart pounding as you searched his eyes. The sincerity in his words made your chest ache, but it didn’t quell the need you felt—this overwhelming desire to bridge every gap that had ever existed between you.

Stan’s hands moved slowly, tentatively, as if giving you a chance to stop him. His fingers brushed against your sides, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “We don’t have to rush this,” he said, his voice low, his blue eyes filled with something tender, almost reverent. “I’ll wait for you. As long as it takes.”

“I know,” you whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It was brief, but it held every ounce of emotion you couldn’t put into words. When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his, and you let out a shaky breath. “I want to, Stan. I’m sure.”

Stan exhaled sharply, his hands still resting on your bare sides, his thumbs brushing against your skin. “Okay,” he said softly, his voice laced with both hesitation and determination. “But if you ever feel like it’s too much, just tell me. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you whispered, your lips curving into a faint, nervous smile.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with unspoken emotions. And then Stan leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was deeper, more certain, more consuming than any before. 

Stan’s fingers played at the hemline of your sweatpants, his touch light but deliberate, sending sparks through your skin. He teasingly dipped his fingers just below the waistband, his lips brushing against yours in a way that left you breathless.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, and his voice was low, almost a whisper. “Can I?” he asked, his fingers still toying with the fabric. “Can I take these off?”

Your cheeks burned as his question lingered in the air, your chest tightening with both anticipation and nervousness. You swallowed hard, nodding before you found your voice. “Yeah,” you murmured, so quiet it was almost drowned out by the sound of your own heartbeat. “Yeah, you can.”

Stan hesitated for just a moment, his gaze searching yours for any sign of uncertainty. When he found none, his hands slid to your hips, his touch steady despite the slight tremor in his fingers. Slowly, he tugged your sweatpants down, his movements careful, almost reverent.

The cool air against your skin made you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating off him as he leaned back, his gaze flickering over you. His eyes softened, the corners of his mouth twitching upward into a faint smile.

“You’re… stunning,” he said, his voice thick, the words carrying a weight that made your heart ache in the best way.

Your breath hitched, and you instinctively reached for him, pulling him closer as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “You don’t have to say that,” you mumbled, your voice muffled and shy.

Stan chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you as he rested his hands on your waist. “I’m not saying it because I have to,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”

Your laugh was soft, a nervous yet genuine sound that made Stan’s smile widen against your temple. His hands, warm and steady, shifted you gently so your back pressed against his chest, the closeness making your heart race. His breath tickled your ear as he leaned forward, resting his head against your shoulder, his lips brushing against your skin in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

Stan’s fingers found the waistband of your panties, his touch featherlight, teasing, as he traced the elastic edge with slow, deliberate movements. You felt heat bloom in your cheeks, your hands instinctively rising to cover your face in a mix of embarrassment and anticipation.

Stan’s hands gripped your waist firmly, keeping you steady as his lips moved against your shoulder, leaving a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His voice, low and rough, sent shivers straight to your core. “You’re so pretty like this,” he murmured, his fingers teasing just under the waistband of your panties. “Can I touch you? Really touch you?”

Your breath hitched, a mix of nerves and anticipation making your voice tremble. “Y-Yeah,” you stammered, nodding as you shifted slightly, giving him permission. “Please.”

His chuckle was warm, vibrating against your skin. “That’s all I needed to hear.” Slowly, deliberately, his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, brushing against the heat of your slick folds. A sharp inhale left your lips as he dragged a finger down your slit, collecting the wetness there before circling your clit with maddening patience.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already,” he muttered, his voice thick with awe. His lips found your neck again, sucking lightly as his fingers slid back down, testing your entrance. “All for me?”

You whimpered, your hands gripping his arms for support. “Yeah,” you whispered, barely audible, your walls clenching around nothing as you felt his finger press into you, slow and careful.

“That’s it,” he murmured against your ear, his tone soothing yet filled with need. “Relax for me. Let me make you feel good.” His finger eased in deeper, and you bit your lip, overwhelmed by the stretch even though it was gentle. “So tight,” he groaned, curling his finger slightly to test your reaction.

Your hips moved instinctively, seeking more, a soft moan escaping you as he found a rhythm, each slow thrust of his finger coaxing more sounds from you. “Stan,” you gasped, his name leaving your lips like a plea.

He kissed your neck again, adding a second finger with care, his free hand gripping your hip to keep you from pulling away. “You’re perfect,” he rasped, his fingers pumping steadily now, scissoring slightly to stretch you. The wet sounds of your arousal filled the room, obscene and intoxicating, making him impossibly harder. “Taking me so well, baby. So fucking good.”

Your breath hitched at the word, a new kind of heat spreading through you that had nothing to do with his touch. Baby. You’d never heard him call you that before, and the intimacy of it sent a jolt straight to your chest. “Baby?” you repeated breathlessly, your voice trembling as you looked back at him. Stan’s lips twitched into a faint smile, his fingers never slowing. “Yeah,” he murmured, his gaze dark and full of something you couldn’t quite name. “You are, aren’t you?” The way he said it—so natural, so sure—made your heart twist in a way that almost hurt.

Your head fell back against his chest, your thighs trembling as his pace quickened. He curled his fingers just right, hitting a spot inside you that made you cry out, your nails digging into his arm. “Right there,” you begged, your voice breaking. “Please, Stan—”

“I got you,” he interrupted, his voice low and rough as his lips brushed your ear. “Gonna make you cum for me. Just let go.”

Your walls fluttered around his fingers as he pressed his thumb to your clit, rubbing tight circles that sent pleasure shooting through you. The pressure built quickly, your moans growing louder as you bucked against his hand. “Stan—fuck—I’m—”

“Cum for me,” he growled, his teeth grazing your neck as his fingers thrust faster, relentless now. “Let me feel it.”

Your body tensed, then shattered as you came, your cries muffled as you bit down on your lip. Your thighs clenched around his hand, and he didn’t stop, drawing out every last wave of your orgasm until you slumped back against him, boneless and breathless.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with pride as he pressed soft kisses to your temple. Slowly, he eased his fingers out of you, and your breath hitched at the loss. He held them up, glistening with your release, before meeting your gaze with a smirk. “So sweet,” he muttered, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your cheeks burned, but the heat in his gaze made you shiver all over again. “Stan,” you whispered, your voice still shaky. You didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t matter. He leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, grounding you as you melted into him.

Your fingers moved instinctively, threading into Stan’s hair as you deepened the kiss, your lips parting against his in a rhythm that left your heart pounding. The warmth of his body against yours was intoxicating, grounding yet electric all at once. Slowly, your hands trailed downward, brushing over the hem of his shirt before settling at the button of his jeans. You hesitated for only a moment, your eyes flicking up to meet his as you worked the zipper down with trembling fingers. His sharp intake of breath was audible, his lips parting as though to say something, but the weight of the moment rendered him silent. 

Your fingers grazed the waistband of his boxers. The way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard sent a thrill through you. Slowly, you tugged at the elastic, watching as his cock sprang free, heavy and already leaking at the tip.

You exhaled sharply, your fingers hesitating for a split second before wrapping around him, the weight of him warm and solid in your hand. His reaction was immediate—his head fell back slightly, his lips parting with a low groan that sent shivers down your spine.

"Fuck," Stan muttered under his breath, his fingers gripping the sheets beside him. His hips twitched slightly, as though he was holding himself back. "You don’t… you don’t have to—"

You cut him off with a soft laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip, tasting the faint saltiness of his precum. "I want to," you murmured, your voice soft but certain, your hand starting to pump slowly, spreading the slickness along his length. "Let me take care of you, Stan."

His breath hitched, his eyes fluttering shut as you began to move with more confidence. You blew softly against his weeping head, watching as he twitched under your touch. “How are you this pretty everywhere?” you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Your lips curled into a faint smile as his eyes snapped open, dark and filled with need.

“Pretty?” he huffed, a shaky laugh escaping him as he tried to focus on your face. “You’re killing me here, dude.”

You didn’t respond, instead letting your tongue drag slowly down the length of him before circling back up to the head. His reaction was everything—his hands flew to your hair, fingers threading through it as his head fell back. "Shit—" he hissed, the sound rough and desperate.

When your lips finally closed around him, taking him inch by inch, his hips bucked slightly despite his effort to stay still. You moaned softly around him, the vibrations drawing a choked sound from his throat. "Fuck, baby," he groaned, his voice rough. "You feel so—"

You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper until his tip brushed the back of your throat. His grip on your hair tightened, not enough to hurt but enough to ground himself. "Slow down," he rasped, though the way his hips shifted betrayed how much he wanted more. "You’re—fuck—so good."

The wet, lewd sounds filled the room as you worked him over, your hand stroking the base while your tongue teased his slit. His thighs trembled under your touch, and the low, broken moans spilling from his lips only spurred you on. “Dude, I’m—” he gasped, his voice catching. “I’m close—”

He tried to tug at your hair, as if to pull you off, but you shook your head slightly, keeping your lips sealed around him. You tightened your grip on his hips, holding him in place as his cum spilled hot down your throat. He moaned your name, the sound raw and unrestrained, his body trembling as you swallowed every drop.

When you finally pulled back, a string of saliva and his release connected your lips to his cock. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, meeting his gaze with a mixture of shyness and satisfaction. "You taste so good," you murmured, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips, letting him taste himself.

Stan was still panting, his chest heaving as his hands cupped your face gently. "You’re… incredible," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He kissed you deeply, his lips moving against yours like he couldn’t get enough. "And, dude, I think you might’ve just ruined me."

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, brushing your lips against his once more. “Do you…” You hesitated, biting your lip as your cheeks flushed. “Do you have a condom?”

Stan blinked at you, his darkened gaze clearing slightly as your words registered. He stared at you for a moment, his expression caught between disbelief and a flicker of something softer, almost hesitant. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice low but steady, his thumbs brushing gently against your cheeks.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m sure,” you whispered, your voice trembling but full of intent. “If you are.”

Stan’s lips parted as he let out a shaky breath, his hands dropping from your face to rest on your waist. “I, uh…” He glanced toward his nightstand, a faint, sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I think I do. Hold on.”

You shifted slightly, giving him space as he leaned over to open the drawer. His movements were hurried but not frantic, his fingers rummaging through the clutter until he found what he was looking for. He held up the foil packet with a small, nervous laugh. “Got it.”

Your cheeks burned as you watched him, your stomach twisting with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. “Okay,” you said softly, your hands fidgeting slightly in your lap. “I’ve never… I mean, I don’t really know how this works, so…”

Stan paused, the condom in his hand, and turned back to you. The teasing smile he usually wore softened into something more serious, more earnest. He reached out, taking your hand in his and squeezing it gently. “Hey,” he said, his voice low and comforting. “We’ll go slow, okay? We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

You nodded, his reassurance grounding you as you met his gaze. “I trust you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Stan’s expression softened further, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ll take care of you,” he promised, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I promise.”

You watched as he fumbled briefly with the condom, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he rolled it on. The vulnerability in his movements tugged at something deep in your chest. While he was focused, you reached behind yourself, unclasping your bra with shaky fingers before sliding it off. Your panties followed, leaving you completely bare before him.

When Stan turned back to you, his gaze landed on your form, and he froze. A breathless laugh escaped him, one hand running through his dark hair as he took you in. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. The awe in his tone made your cheeks flush, and you instinctively tried to cover yourself with your arms.

“Don’t,” Stan said gently, his hands catching yours and lowering them. “Don’t hide from me. Please.”

Your heart pounded as he leaned forward, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone before trailing lower. His lips found your nipples, sucking lightly at the sensitive buds, and you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair.

“Ah—S-stan,” you gasped, your voice trembling.

He didn’t reply, but the warmth of his kisses and the way he held you so delicately spoke volumes. He positioned his hard cock at your entrance, his eyes flicked up to meet yours, searching your face for any hesitation. His tip was dripping from his previous release, and the way he dragged himself across your slit, in an almost teasing manner, made you shudder.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with vulnerability.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer. “I’m sure,” you whispered. “I want this. I want you.”

Stan exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead against yours as he began to push forward slowly. His length parts your walls, inch by inch. The stretch was unfamiliar, and you tensed for a moment, but his hands on your waist were grounding, his voice soft and reassuring.

“Relax dude,” he murmured, kissing your temple. “I’ve got you. Tell me if it’s too much.”

You bit your lip, focusing on the sound of his breathing and the way his hands held you like you were something fragile and precious. Slowly, he eased further inside, his movements careful until he was fully in. Your hips were touching now, and the sensation was maddening.

“You okay?” Stan asked, his voice hoarse as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face.

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes—from pain, but also from the overwhelming intimacy of the moment. “I’m okay,” you whispered, your fingers trailing along his jaw. “I’m more than okay.”

Stan’s lips curved into a soft smile as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, and finally your lips. “You’re everything,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion. “I hope you know that.”

You didn’t respond with words at first, instead pulling him closer and wrapping your arms around his neck, your lips pressing softly to him again. The kiss deepened naturally, slow and deliberate, as though neither of you wanted the moment to slip away. His hands skimmed down your sides, gripping the flesh of your ass, and you could feel the faint tremble in his touch.

“God, Stan…” you whispered, your breath hitching as you gazed into his eyes. Your cheeks burned as you added hesitantly, “Please move.”

Stan exhaled shakily, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint as he slowly drew his hips back. He watched your expression closely, searching for any sign of discomfort as he thrusted forward again.

The stretch was still there, but it wasn’t as overwhelming this time. Instead, a new kind of heat unfurled within you, building with each careful movement. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, grounding yourself in the sensation of him, the closeness of his body against yours.

“Jesus-fucking-Christ,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. His lips brushed against your temple, trailing down to your jawline as he found a steady but punishing rhythm. “So fucking tight—so tight.”

Your breath hitched, a soft moan escaping your lips as the pleasure began to build. “Stan,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “Y-you’re so deep, I—” You're cut off by his cock twitching against your walls at your words, a shiver coursing through your body.

His strokes become faster and deeper, his hands roaming your body with reverence. The intimacy of it all—the way he kissed you between every thrust, the way he whispered your name like it was something sacred—sent a surge of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the physical connection.

Stan’s lips pressed against your neck, sucking and nibbling on your soft skin. The tightening of your walls stopped his advances, his breath coming out in soft, uneven pants. “I can’t believe this is real,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “You… you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re—ah—you’re so good f’me.”

You cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks as your eyes met his. “I—fuck, I love you,” you moaned, your voice all over the place due to the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. “This is s-so not real.”

Stan’s lips captured yours again, a quiet groan escaping him as he deepened the kiss. His thrusts grew slightly faster, more confident, and you arched into him, a gasp slipping from your lips as he fucked that spot that made your vision blur.

“Right there,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Don’t fucking stop.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice trembling as he clung to you like you were his lifeline. “I’ve got you, baby. Always.”

The tension built higher and higher, each thrust drawing you closer to the edge. His name fell from your lips in a breathless chant, and when his hand slipped between your bodies, his thumb circling your clit, it was enough to send you spiraling.

“Stan. Stan, oh my G-god,” You choked out, your nails clawing his shoulder blades leaving red, angry marks in their wake. Stan could feel your slick arousal dripping against him, creating audible squelching noises, and he knew you were close.

Your release hit you hard, your cunt fluttering around him as waves of pleasure washed over you. Stan followed shortly after, a guttural moan leaving his lips as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hips stuttering against yours. You felt the warmth of his cum through the condom as it expanded. The way he held you so tightly as if afraid to let go, left you feeling safe, cherished.

As the aftershocks faded, Stan eased himself back slightly, his hands cradling your face as he pressed soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. “You okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse but gentle.

The soft, hoarse question lingered in the air, and you managed a shaky, “Yeah,” your voice barely above a whisper. Stan let out a small breath of relief, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as if grounding both of you. His lips pressed against your forehead again, warm and comforting, before he shifted slightly.

The sensation of him pulling out was slow and careful, but it still made you whine softly, the emptiness leaving a dull ache behind. Your cheeks burned as the sound escaped you, and Stan’s gaze immediately snapped to your face, a faint flicker of worry crossing his features.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, his hands sliding down to rest lightly on your hips. “You okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shook your head quickly, your arms wrapping instinctively around his neck to pull him closer. “No,” you murmured, your voice still trembling. “I just… I don’t know. I feel… weird without you.”

Stan’s expression softened at your words, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “Weird?” he repeated, the word coming out in a gentle tease as he kissed the tip of your nose. “Is that a good weird or a bad weird?”

You hesitated, the vulnerability of the moment making your chest tighten. “Good, I think,” you admitted finally, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I just… I don’t want you to let go.”

Stan’s arms tightened around you at that, his forehead resting against yours as he let out a soft, contented sigh. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, his voice steady and reassuring. “I’ve got you.”

For a while, neither of you moved, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a blanket. The weight of everything—the vulnerability, the connection, the raw emotion—settled into something warm and steady, a feeling that made you fuzzy all over.

Finally, Stan pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice soft as he broke the silence. “Let’s clean up, yeah? I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.

A playful grin tugged at your lips despite the lingering warmth in your chest. “Okay, boyfriend,” you teased, your voice still a little shaky but lighter now.

Stan rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward into a faint smirk. “Love you, girlfriend,” he shot back, his tone carrying just enough sarcasm to make you laugh softly.

“Good,” you replied, still smiling as you brushed your fingers through his hair. “Because I’m kind of obsessed with you.”

His smirk softened into something more genuine, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’ve got no idea,” he murmured, leaning in to press another kiss to your lips.

After a moment, Stan pulled back, his cheeks slightly flushed as he gave you a sheepish smile. “Alright, seriously though, let me grab something to clean us up. Be right back.”

Kyle leaned back against the dorm door, his legs stretched out on the hallway floor as he scrolled through his phone. The muffled sounds of your voices arguing inside were barely audible, but every now and then a sharp tone or raised word would cut through. He rolled his eyes, letting out a soft scoff as he aimlessly refreshed his feed. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Minutes passed, and the dorm grew quiet. Too quiet. Kyle glanced at the door, debating whether to knock or just barge in to check if you two had killed each other. Just as he was pushing himself to stand, his ears caught something unmistakable—a faint moan followed by the rhythmic creak of the bed frame.

Kyle froze.

His phone slipped out of his hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud as his eyes went wide. For a moment, he stood there in disbelief, his face heating up so quickly it felt like steam might shoot from his ears. "What the actual fuck?" he whispered to himself, his voice tinged with panic.

The creaking continued, and Kyle bolted, muttering curses under his breath as he sprinted down the hall. His thoughts were a jumbled mess—equal parts disbelief, irritation, and a deep desire to bleach his brain.

Reaching Kenny and Cartman’s shared dorm, Kyle didn’t bother to knock. He shoved the door open, startling the two boys who were mid-conversation. Kenny blinked up at him from his seat on the bed, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Cartman, lounging in a beanbag chair with a bag of chips in hand, raised an eyebrow.

“What’s your problem, dude?” Cartman asked, crunching obnoxiously loud.

Kyle stood there, chest heaving, his face still flushed a deep red. And then he started laughing. Not the normal kind of laugh either—it was a borderline maniacal, disbelieving cackle that had Kenny and Cartman exchanging wary glances.

Through his hysterics, Kyle waved a hand, doubling over slightly as he tried to catch his breath. “Don’t ask,” he managed to choke out between gasps of air, his laughter tapering into a slightly unhinged giggle.

Kenny leaned back, taking a long drag from his cigarette as he eyed Kyle skeptically. “Did you, like, witness a murder or something?”

“Nope,” Kyle said, his voice cracking as he wiped at his eyes. “Worse.”

Cartman snorted. “Worse than a murder? Doubt it, bro.”

Kyle just shook his head, sinking into the nearest chair and burying his face in his hands. “Just… I’m never going near that dorm again,” he muttered, his voice muffled but filled with exasperation.

poor kyle... | part one

[mousemannation]

[x] | so i transcribed the part of Casper's appearance on the Nothing Major podcast where he talks about players complaining about the balls bc i saw many articles using it as clickbait. im so sorry to the four hosts of Nothing Major i cannawt tell u apart so i've just listed them as HOST or H. if someone wants to listen at the link and correct me, feel free!! I'll edit the post !!

HOST: Is the court still really- it’s super fast in Turin, isn’t it? CASPER: Yeah. The two times I’ve played it was super fast, yeah. H: Yeah, I mean, it’s kinda like- like Shanghai fast- was Shanghai fast this year? C: Yeah H: Always C: Yeah. But the balls were fairly slow. I mean… You see players complain about the balls all the time, like it’s getting so tired of like, “uh I feel my elbow this, I feel my this, that, I don’t- I can’t produce power this, blah blah this, suits this player,” it’s like, come on, just play. H: We- we went over this last week actually. And really the complaints really start flowing in right around Shanghai. People start getting real crabby, real cranky, complaining about the balls, complaining about the conditions, this and that; but I totally agree with you, we’re kinda all in agreement there, like, you know, whatever, like, we- I don’t think any of us really cared too much about the balls. C: For me what’s funny, like, with some players, is that, you know, they come like five days in advance to practice- and I do it myself a lot of the time, it’s like, unless you’re going from tournament to tournament- and then, you know, they string like 28 racquets to get the right tension, cause, like, people are super into strings and like whatever, and then they come to like whatever 4th round and they start complaining about the balls, but its been the same balls for the last 9 days. Like what’s the point of bringing it up now? To the umpire? What is he gonna change? Nothing. H: Absolutely nothing C: Like “yeah, let me call Dunlop i’ll have them send over a can for you-” H: (laughs) C: “-if that’s the one you prefer,” like, what’s the point? I mean, just to make drama out of nothing. H: Yeah. We totally agree with you, dude. The tennis players, like, especially the guys in the top 1- top 50 espe- I mean, they just, they get- get psycho about the balls…

[j2zara]

j2's vegas wedding outfit. porter's carrying him over the threshold of the chintzy honeymoon suite and spreading his bride out on a heart-shaped bed and making love to him ALL night.

IM SORRY I WISH I HAD MORE THOUGHTS ABT THIS BEYOND JUST FORMLESS GLEE. I was so busy living in the euphoria of j2porter vegas wedding roleplay that i forgot i lived in a world where i ought to say more than scream incoherently abt it. Sorry everyone for being soft about these two. Like its my fault. Tomorrow Jace is going to yell at j2 over this but today j2 is glowing. He's so happy and unfortunately im evil and in my heart porter has this terrible moment of in his head seeing J2 like this tacky wedding dress in his arms and all like yeah i would give it all up for j2 and then its over and hes like ok im normal now (he's not). He loves being in porter's arms he loves being carried across the threshold (secretly his favorite part) and J2 is so adoring and trusting and its just. I cry.

And i do think it would even be something that J2 would take a moment to accept, like i don't even think it would be his idea bc like he wants it he wants it to be real in that he wants porter to himself he wants to be the one picked to be It but also he wants the fantasy of it as well if he can't have that but also a part of him is like is it blasphemous is it wrong to want to indulge in the fantasy in which i get to be the one for Porter. Especially if this is not a situation in which he is invoking jace, like this is for him.

I can't decide if that once he's in on it though he's the one nervously but like excitedly trying to voice his ideas or if he's truly in for the ride. He definitely didn't decide on the dress but like unironically he loves it I think in his mind he would end up in something more dainty but its perfect. He can do tacky!!! He likes comfort, he likes tacky, he's never had a sense of style but he likes romance, repulsion at closeness is a jace instinct and it always feels alien in his brain, wrong, and J2 freaks out a bit abt the dress getting messed up at first but like the tags are right Porter is getting into it and J2 can relish the fact that Porter is not going to treat him like a precious thing, the want to the point of destruction is close to what he wants, right?

and the heels are crazy something that high might be a j3 special j2 has never worn a heel in his life and initially he's like idk abt this but if it's what porter wants then ok! And he's kinda wobbling around, but he's earnestly giving it his best shot like asking Porter "how do i look?" and like and its like endearing and awkward and so baby bird and Porter is just like so endeared by it until the heel snaps off but thats ok bc that means Porter gets to carry him some more!!

And i do think J2 gets into the roleplay aspect of it like for real for real. This entire night is about how special J2 is which he's like absolutely taking and relishing and he might actually die of happiness and b/c i love porter but i hate porter he's absolutely playing into it just this idea of like it's crazy and it's stupid but what if we went for it? i would give it all up for you. I chose you. I have to have you, which is why we're ruining the dress and the makeup. Like Porter rips the dress and he absolutely wants j2 to cry and his mascara to run and his lip gloss to smear while Porter is fucking his face and j2 is sooooo into it.

but also it gets very slow and treasures him kissing of the thighs and slowly taking off the garters and J2 might pass out. He's like. J2 is not doing the work for tonight this is for spoiling you (I earnestly think if they did commit to the whole honey moon suite thing Porter is making J2 everyone's problem. This is my special little princess for the night. Get behind me kitten he asked for no pickles). J3 makes fun of j2 for earnestly using the phrase "making love" sometimes and what they're doing usually isn't really that but tonight it is and. he cries but like for once its not like a sad cry or even a bittersweet cry.

But the other half of the roleplay beyond getting spoiled is j2 getting like wayyyy into it like. if he were really. basically living in this fantasy of essentially being Porter's housewife and being like yeah i'd do all your dishes and all your laundry and treat you right and be dressed up for you with a cute little apron and give you a kiss every day when you came home work and of course there's a home cooked meal and you can watch tv on the couch or i could give you a massage and tell you how hard you work and how happy i am to see you and whatever else you want. You're the center of my world. And then i can blow you obviously. Which obviously is huge turn on for Porter so they go at it like two more times and then the rest of the night

J2 doesn’t stop telling Porter he loves him all night. The softy in me says Porter also says it back. But you didn’t hear it from me

[praebitorem-glaciei]

For the NSFW asks. Farkas?

im SO SO sorry

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Given the wolf knot, he can't really do a whole lot immediately after sex if he's knotted his partner. You're just kinda stuck with him being your weighted blanket. But he's heavy on praise and kissing! And once he's FREED, he'll make sure to tend to his sub's every need.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His torso. He's hot as hell and he knows it lol- But for his partner, butt. He lovesss a fat ass.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Cums a normal amount, makes a point to cum on his partner. all while :3 at them

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

If he's horny he'll jack off in the bathroom wherever he is, he doesn't gaf

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Verrrrry. Bit of a player before settling down with his partner later on. Knows what he's doing, is smug about it.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style. He's aware of the irony.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Little bit of both! He's usually very intense about making sure his partner feels good, but if something happens that warrants a laugh, he will laugh.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

His pubes are actually grey despite his hair being purpleish. He's got a bush, I mean he doesn't really care.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Depends. With his partner he's very sweet and affectionate. If its a casual thing, he's more condescending

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

EVERY DAY AT LEAST ONCE.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding, he's a wolfboy.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

against the window :)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Farkas' partner could bend over in front of him and that would be enough.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

hes just not really into the watersports thing. his cum is already messy enough.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers receiving, likes giving though. He's pretty good at it. But he also is really good at adapting to what his partner wants, so it'll always be great.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough and deep babyyy

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

As often as he can get 'em. He has a very high sex drive lol

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes! He'll try everything once. If he doesn't like it, oh well. If he does, great!

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Insatiable.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Many toys, mostly to use on his partners. He's got like one vibrating cockring for himself and that's about it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

BIIIIIG TEAASEEE

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

When he finally shuts the fuck up he j growls quite a bit. whiny, like a dog.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he's fucked on most of the flat rooftops in the city.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

7.3in, huge knot, curves a lil to the right. uncut

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HIGH HIGH HIGH HIGH

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends on how busy work was, if it wasn't too bad he'll cuddle for a while. but if he did a lot he'll fall asleep pretty quick. hes also TERRIBLE about waking up, hes so lazy in the morning. so any morning sex is followed by him immediately falling back to sleep.

[swifty-fox]

https://www.tumblr.com/swifty-fox/746422388427735040/actually-now-ive-thought-of-a-hockey-au-question

I JUST READ THIS i Do Not understand hockey and watched the goalie fight and i am soooo confused i thought this was like an ice stick sports game thing WHY are they doing a hand to hand combat in the middle of the ice 😭😭😭😭

the gloves the helmet the stick thrown away and the grabbing at each others THROATS??? why did it feel like they were the only people in the ice i was like '???? Is facilitating a fist fight an actual session of the game?'

and WHY did it take so long for someone to break them up too 😭😭

so i talk a little about the mechanics of a fight in this post

the hand to hand combat is a TIME honored tradition in hockey. It's part of the game, its a way for the players to let off steam and to stand up for eachother against a rival player whos just kinda being a Jackass.

SO as said there you've got your average brawl. This is a bar fight. they're pissed. This is not pre-negotiated and because it's not serving a purpose the refs are gunna get involved quickly. Sometimes they will allow this kind of fight if one of the players has been a huge ass during the game. FAFO buddy.

Then you've got your average hockey fight. Think of it more as boxing. Generally two guys will call eachother out and literally be like "yo wanna fight dude?" theres some great clips of that. this is a great one you can actually see the ref step away once both guys agree. (Lol sorry age restricted it is dudes hittin eachother)

If it is an allowed fight (agreed too, refs stepped off) you will see them hovering around once both guys have exhausted themselves or usually once someone falls to the ice. then they step in to break it up and escort them to their respective Sin Bin (penalty box)

They fight to pump up the crowd, to add some energy back into a slow game and just cause it's fun. they do take penalties for it though no matter the kind of brawl.

for that goalie fight im not sure whats going on honestly lol it may have been some event and the tendys just wanted to fight. You mostly see Tendys fight during a line brawl (literally everyone on ice going at it) And they're not necessarily grabbing at their throats but actually the plastic armor under the jersey. even though its meant to protect the players body from any number of hits or bumps or bruises It's also a solid piece of underarmor that they can maintain a good grip on so as not to fall while throwing punches. it's that white thing PeePaw Ovi is wearing here

[hunten-series]

Part 1: the ruins.

Dawn, the sun rose over a sturdy stone city as the sun rose, the light painted a bright pink yellow on the edges of the highest tips of the city's stone walls and towers.

Suddenly, two siloets emerged from the dark behind, of a wall blocking the light of the rising sun. "Hurry up, slow poke!" One giggled and called to the other still behind.

"Hang on, I'm coming. Please be patient."

The other answers politely.

"Oh, come on! You're usually almost at the top of the tower at this moment. What's keeping ya?"

As the sun rose, colour ate away the darkness, revealing the true colours of one of the figures.

They were white with grey-blue stripes 2 on each limb, including the tail with a darker grey tip.

As the other steps into the light//y'all know what hunten looks like right? If you do just emagin him younger, and don't judge my bad spelling.//

He suddenly comes to a stop when a loud rumble comes from his stomach.

"Realy?!"

The other yelled in a frustrated tone.

"Kaioh, you rushed me, ok?! That's why I...

Kinda skipped breakfast..." He said as his tone grew softer, and he sank into a crouch and huddled his knees to his chest, clenching his growling belly.

Kaioh gave him a dirty glare, then turned around and continued to swiftly pad his way across the narrow top of a high stone wall.

"Come on, we will eat later ok!?"

He sighed angrily.

Hunten sank his head into his knees, only leaving enough room to give a slight nod.

Suddenly, a loud rumble shook the ground. Wobbling the wall side to side, it grows fainter, then stops.

"Calm yourself! I told you we will eat later!"

Kaioh yeld hardly noticing any of the shaking.

"That wasn't me! Plus, there's no way my stomach can couse the ground to shake!"

"Then-" before Kaioh could continue to angrily mock his brother, the ground shook once more. This time, shaking kaioh of his feet before he could open his mouth to scream, he felt a tight, strong squeeze on his leg he looked up. To see his brother gripping tightly to his leg. He felt him being yanked back up onto the sturdy, narrow strip. After he felt his chin bump over the edge of the wall and back on top, he struggled to his feet. Neither said anything, yet suddenly a elderly female voice called from over the edge;" kids come inside quickly! IT'S THE VOLCANO!!" Then both fled down there, ramp of another building to leaping over and crawling under and even climbing over any obstacles in their path, until the atlast met their way back inside their little plot.

"M-mother? Wh-whats happening?!" Hunten said as anxiety and fear made his voice crack and tremble. "I told you the volcano! I hope it's not your farther causing this!" She answered curtly."What farther?!" Hunten asked, but before he could prop his ears, he saw a large stone block fell from the ceiling, falling straight towards his brother! He ramed him out of its way.

"Get of, of me, you skinny little sh#$." He shreaked, kicking hunten in the stomach, and he flung backwards against a pillar, hitting it hard enough that it broke suddenly broke off. Hunten then leaps onto his feet, his heart racing his head and his belly throbbing with pain, but he mustn't let his mother get crushed, but she didn't move she smiled hunten kept running at his fastest pace but it was to late.

Boom, the pillar landed with a massive thud. "M-MOTHER NOOOHHG!" his voice cracked and shrank into sobbing and sniffing and murmuring. He then felt himself being thrown at a wall. His back ached and stang from being scratched by the ruff surface. "YOU DID THIS YOU HORRIBLE C#NT!!!"

"IM SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO I-"

He sank down to his knees, his head in his hands,

He suddenly felt something grabbing his neck he attempted to struggle free from his brothers hand, but he was too weak and tired to manage.

"HOPE YOU HIT SOME SHARP ROCKS ON YOUR WAY B!#CH!" Kaioh yeld in his face hunten could hardly move as if his energy was sucked away he then felt him self being thrown into the ocean he then fell unconscious...

[genshin-obsessed]

Dinner and a Tour | Arataki Itto x Reader

Howdy, ok so I'm a little nervous cuz I don't really know him too well. I didn't want to get into his personality but it's got lots of dialogue, so I kinda failed at that?? Either way, don't read too much into the way i wrote him lmao and yeah. I also don't know if he got his vision back cuz that's why he wants to fight Sara, right? anyway, if that's wrong then ignore those two lines. OK im done <3 Word Count: 1k

“Ah, I knew I’d be left alone.” You muttered, looking around for your friend Lumine. Lumine was a busy girl and you offered to help your friend, which she was grateful for. But along the way… you somehow became separated which seemed to happen more often than not nowadays. And by the time you’d meet up with her, she’d be finished with her task.

You walked to the small bridge and leaned on the wooden railing, looking out at the city. While lost in your thoughts, you failed to notice someone approaching you.

“Lost or something?” You jumped a little at the voice and turned around to correct them… when you came face to face with a torso. A rather toned and muscly torso. Slowly, your eyes ran over the exposed skin and up towards the head where you finally met the red eyes.

“Uh… hi?”

“Hello down there! Are you ok? You look lost. Are you looking for someone?” He took a step back and moved to stand beside you, but your eyes were still locked onto his face. He was extremely tall but handsome too.

“Yeah, k-kinda. I was helping my friend with some errands earlier but then I lost her.” You wanted to keep your explanation brief for this new stranger. Besides, you were trying to find her, not sit and chat with anyone.

“You’re new here, right?” You nodded before finally tearing your eyes away from the man. “I thought so! You have an accent and your clothes… they’re definitely not from here.”

“I’m from (anywhere except Inazuma).”

“Oh, I’ve heard things about them. So! Why don’t I help you find your friend?”

“That’s ok, I wouldn’t want to interrupt whatever you were doing.” The man shook his head and waved his hand.

“Nah, I wasn’t doing anything anyway. Come on! I’ll give you a tour while we’re at it!” He immediately started to walk away before you could properly reject him. Due to his very long legs, that man moved fast. You were forced to jog to catch up with him. Since he was so insistent, you decided it would hurt to have another pair of eyes. Besides, though you’d helped Lumine with the whole Raiden Shogun situation, you hadn’t the time to actually look around Inazuma.

“I’m (y/n)! It’s n-nice to meet you!”

“Right, I’m Arataki Itto! Good to meet you too- oh sorry, am I walking too fast?” He slowed down significantly which made you sigh in relief. “Aw, how cute.” He said, staring down at your smaller form following him at a more favorable pace.

“C-cute?”

“Yeah, I think you’re pretty cute! Not just because you’re short but you have a pretty face. I like it!” Not really wanting to dwell on a simple compliment, you decided to walk beside him silently.

But it had only been a few moments when it finally dawned on you where you recognized his name from.

“Oh! You’re the guy who keeps trying to challenge Kujou Sara!”

“Pfft, that was a late reaction! But yeah, she owes me a rematch! Why? Do you know her?” Deciding you wanted no part of this weird rivalry, you chose to lie… a little.

“N-not really, I’ve just heard things.”

“I’m happy to have my vision back, but I still want to fight her. She’s just being stubborn- oh but enough about her! Tell me about yourself!” He was quite the boisterous one, but for some reason, it was pleasant. He was kinda like Paimon… if she was a giant man with lots of muscles.

“Well, you already know my name and where I’m from. I’m here with the traveler who fought against the Raiden Shogun. She’s my friend.”

“Oh, so you’re the two heroes, it’s good to meet you. Now I really wanna get to know you.” Itto came to an abrupt halt, which caused you to stop as well. He stared down at you with a very odd look in his eyes.

“Wh-what does that mean?” Your voice faltered a little as your cheeks turned red. Itto definitely noticed and leaned down, his face merely inches away from yours.

“Is that a blush? Wow… that’s kinda cute.”

“You already said that,” you muttered, turning your face away, “come on now.”

“Ok, but your face is getting redder. So, I’m pretty sure it’s working. I like it so I’ll think I’ll do it more often.” He teased, making you look back at him. You wanted to retaliate, but then your eyes met. You had spent most of your time following Lumine around without doing much for yourself. So, if this giant, goofy guy kinda had an interest in you, it wouldn’t hurt to return the interest, right?

“I… think you’re p-pretty too.” You admitted before he leaned back and a hearty laugh escaped his lips.

“Great! Then it’s settled. I want to take you out on a date. There’s a tea house not too far from here. Let’s get something to eat!” He said, grabbing your arm and tugging you along.

“Just like that?! We just met!”

“A date’s a great way to get to know someone, I think that’s kinda the whole point.” He laughed, which did throw you into a little panic, but there was an air of freedom around him. It reminded you of an old friend. Now you were really sure you wanted to give this a try. Ah, what the hell. Lumine didn’t need you to help her constantly...

Your shock slowly melted into a smile and you giggled as you ran beside him. It had been maybe ten minutes since you met this weirdo and you were already in a better mood. You could probably run around the entirety of Inazuma with him and wouldn’t regret it.

“What about the tour?!” You asked, laughter escaping from your lips.

“Oh yeah, ok! So for our date today, I’ll show you Inazuma City!” The confidence he emitted was just… so warm and encouraging.

“You are something else, Arataki Itto.” You mumbled, lacing your fingers with his as the two of you ran down the streets of Inazuma City.

[2dmenenthusiast]

I can't remember if I sent this to you already but could I request headcanons for aizawa, hizashi and Toshinori finding their s/o that has a chipmunk quirk that makes her fall into hibernation when it's too cold (kinda like tsu) but when the guys find her with her heart rate low and her breathing shallow maybe they freak a little bc she didn't tell them about that part of her quirk yet

omggggg this idea is literally so cute I got so excited when I first read it. Also thank you love for comin through with the requests, I really appreciate it! <3 I also hella struggled cuz like, what can someone with a chipmunk quirk do? Stuff their cheeks? Climb up trees? Also I legit forgot what a chipmunk even looked like I had to look it up lmaoooo im so dumb it hurts

Aizawa is an intimidating fella, okay

So when you first told him about your quirk, you were lowkey embarrassed?

Like, here’s this grown-ass man with a badass quirk who is more than capable of taking down villains and defending himself, and here you are just-

🐿️

But you know what’s great about this man? He couldn’t give less of a shit about your quirk or anything like that. He strikes me as the type to care more about personality than anything else

concealing your quirk is fairly easy. People probably wouldn’t even know you had one if it wasn’t for the small fluffy ears popping out of the top of your head, and even then you could just cover them with a hat

But that doesn’t mean you don’t experience the effects of your own quirk just because it’s subtle

You have a mutant type quirk, so you experience certain things that actual chipmunks do

Sometimes you won’t even notice that you’re stuffing your cheeks to full capacity with whatever you’re eating before Aizawa has to cut you off and just be like

“y/n. Chew.”

Or when you’re rushing, you’re usually going so fast that Aizawa can barely even see you zooming from room to room

you can also get kinda skittish at times, your ears twitching whenever you hear a noise that sounds weird or out of place, and you’ll just look at Aizawa with wide eyes until he checks out what made a noise that he could barely hear

“y/n, it was just some kids outside.”

“Oh... sorry, Sho.”

he wants to be frustrated, but he knows it’s not your fault. And honestly? He finds you so cute that he can’t really stay mad at you

So he’ll just let out a huff before patting your head lovingly, grazing his fingers over your ears (Which he KNOWS are sensitive, that asshole)

Experiencing long periods of deep sleep is also a thing. You wouldn’t call it hibernation cuz you still have to do normal, everyday things, but there are times during the winter where you’ll sleep for a few days in a row and only get up to go to the bathroom or eat

And since you can’t actually burrow into the floor of your home, you usually make a blanket fort in the corner of your bedroom and stuff all of the pillows and blankets you can in there until it’s nice and warm, ready for you to bury yourself in

and you might’ve left that little part of your quirk out when you moved in together. whoops

So when Shouta comes home and sees the living room couch void of all of its pillows, he’s not expecting to walk into your shared bedroom and see you curled up in a blanket fort

he’s a bit curious at first, just kinda looking at you like “All right, I guess this is normal?”

and he’ll crouch down and kinda examine you for a bit before he eventually wonders if you’re even breathing? You’re burried under blankets, so he can’t really see your chest moving

eventually he’ll check and see that your breathing is abnormally slow and he kinda just... pauses and checks again to make sure he’s not going crazy.

and he wont deny that he kinda freaks out at first, his immediate thought being that he needs to get you out of there, but the second he grabs the blankets to pull them off of you he’s like wait... hold up.

then it all clicks

you’re a mutant with a chipmunk quirk...

c h i p m u n k

safe to say he’s relieved, so he just lets you be and goes about his day. 

When you wake up a few hours later to go to the bathroom, you come out of the bedroom with your clothes practically on backwards, rubbing at your eyes and stumbling past Aizawa like he’s not even there. And when you’re done, it’s right back to sleep you go

“Back to bed?” Aizawa would ask as he watches you with an amused smirk on his face

“Mhm.”

“Okay. Goodnight, y/n”

“Mm’night.

Listen, when he first heard of your quirk, he thought it was the cutest shit ever

“Your quirk is Chipmunk?! That’s SOOOOOOOO CUUUUUUUTE!”

No he’s legit your number one hype man. If you think your quirk is lame, he’s literally shouting at you how cool he thinks you are.

“You can stuff so much food in your mouth, y/n! And that’s pretty dope if you ask me! I’m totally jealous!”

speaking of food, he’ll just randomly ask you to shove as much as you can of one thing in your cheeks until they’re at full capacity.

“Hey y/n, think you can shove this whole pack of jumbo marshmallows in your cheeks?”

“But... I just bought those :(”

“I’ll buy you more, LET’S DO THIS!!!”

also asks you the dumbest questions omg. You don’t know if he’s genuinely curious or if he’s just doing it to piss you off

“So do you just eat nuts all day?”

“You’ve seen me eat, Hizashi. No.”

“Do you prefer to sleep in trees?”

“That would be extremely uncomfortable.”

“Ooh you’d probably be great frieds with Kamui Woods then.”

“Did you not hear what I just said?”

He also REALLY likes your ears. Like an unhealthy amount? Whenever you’re around he literally wont stop touching them and even tugs on them playfully until you’re swatting at his hands and telling him to go away

He can’t help that they’re so cute :(

so on a particuallry cold day in winter when he has to go to work at the school, he leaves your home while you’re sleeping, only to come home hours later to find you... still sleeping?

You haven’t moved an inch the entire time he’s been gone, so needless to say, he’s a litle concerned.

and when he checks to see if you’re still alive only to discover your heart rate is super slow, he’s A LOT concerned

His brain just goes to the most dramatic thing he can think of, which is that you’re in some weird coma and need to wake up

so rather than, i dont know, gently shaking you awake like a normal person, he grabs you buy your shoulders and starts shaking you violently while shouting your name loud as fuck

“Y/NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN”

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!”

you literally wake up so violently, you sit right up and shove him off of you before asking what’s wrong with him, pretty sure you’ve officially gone deaf

He then explains that he thought you were in a coma or something cuz your heartbeat was so slow, and at that point you just roll your eyes because of course he would come up with this ridiculous conclusion

“Hizashi, my quirk is chipmunk and it’s a mutation quirk.”

He doesn’t even get what you’re getting at, just tilting his head in confusion as he squints at you.

“What do chipmunks do in the winter, babe?”

Cue more confused squinting

“Oh my god, they hibernate, you headass.”

it finally clicks and the look on his face makes it seem like he just learned the secret of the universe, and afterwards he’s going on about how cool that is while you just roll your eyes and lay back down to try and go back to sleep, bringing the blanket over your head to try and drown him out

He eventually gets the hint and leaves, but after a while, you kinda feel bad for blowing up on him. He was just concerned and didn’t fully understand your quirk

so letting out a huff, you pull the blanket down and call out his name, to which he immediately runs to you at the sound of, asking you what you need

you just wordlessly lift up the blanket to expose the empty side of the bed, and oh boy, the size of the grin he gets on his face is unmatched

immediately throws off his hero costume so that you can both be comfortable and jumps into bed with you, holding you impossibly close

you fall asleep in a matter of minutes while he just looks at you fondly, hand soothingly rubbing your back.

Just like the other two, he finds you incredibly cute. Like mans is in love, okay?

everytime he sees your little ears twitch, he just gets the strongest urge to touch them, but he never does without your consent becuase he knows how sensitive they are.

“Uh... y/n, do you mind if I... touched your ears?” 

Baby probably feels so awkward asking ugh PLEASE REASSURE HIM

“Oh? Yeah, of course, Toshi. Knock yourself out.”

oooh he’s excited. He’ll be super gentle about it, just lightly grazing them with his fingers before gently rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger

and at that point you’re littlerally melting, practically falling into him because him caressing your ears like this feels absolutely amazing

When he sees how it’s affecting you, he immediately becomes a blushing mess and apologizes, but you just hug him and tell him it’s okay and that you liked it

yeah he definitely rubs your ears whenever you’re feeling stressed or anxious because it’s become a quick way to relax you

only when he does it though. If anyone else randomly touches your ears, you get kinda uncomfortable

Just because they don’t look human doesn’t mean they still weren’t a part of you, dammit

Anyways, one day when you’re waiting for Toshi to come back home, you’ve got yourself wrapped up like a burrito in your blanket, sitting on the couch as you watched tv

it had been snowing all day, but luckily Toshinori had turned up the thermostat before he left, remembering how you mentioned that you’re not a huge fan of the cold

unfortunately for you, the harsh weather had no trouble taking out the power, leaving you in the dark and the cold

it didn’t take long for the cold to start seeping in through the cracks in the windows, and you quickly began to grow tired before you inevitibly passed out on the couch, still wrapped tightly in your blanket

When Toshi gets home and sees you on the couch, his first reaction is “aw, how cute.”

but then when he comes up to you and starts calling out your name to try and wake you up and you just won’t, and then he notices how much your breathing has slowed down, he quickly growns concerened.

He’s not in full panic mode yet, but he’s getting there, and he’s quick to crouch down to your level and grab your shoulders to start shaking you to wake you up

which you do, blinking groggily at him like you weren’t just in full hibernation mode

“Oh... Hey, Toshi,” you mumble, and you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck to pull him down so that you can nuzzle yourself into his warm chest

He’s not able to ask you about what happened to you before you’ve already fallen back asleep, and when the power comes back on a few minutes later, he does a quick google search on chipmunks and mutant quirks before putting two and two together

Now he’s thinking of all the ways he could make you something to burrow into during those especially cold winters

[denkisdurag]

bakugo, midoriya, todoroki, kirishima, kaminari x black!reader

summary : they see you with braids for the first time

a/n: oh ? what's this ??

dashi actually posting what people follow them for ? wow i know

i haven't posted SHIT in forever i'm so sorry. i'm in class and im takin this test rn and i am extremely physically and emotionally and mentally ✨ drained ✨ and i'm about to pull a midari 😻 but i'm still gonna finish this because i feel bad ahaha laugh out loud

and those who have requested, i'm sorry they're taking so long !! they're in my drafts i swear i've just been kinda out of it

so take this long ass writing as my apology thank u ily

———

katsuki bakugo !

when you walk into that classroom,,

whew chile

whiplash

probably gonna say some shit like

"what's with the worms coming outta yo head"

which is actually something i've been told but anyways

best believe you gonna whip your head around and wack him with them

and if they're pulled up into a ponytail then even better

he claims that he doesn't like them

but he can't take his eyes off you in that classroom

if someone calls him out then he'll furiously deny it

"why are you staring at [name]"

"NO IM NOT"

"yes you are"

"SHUT UP"

cut the cap bakugo

you know you admiring them 😌

he refuses to be honest with himself

but let you look up at the board and your braids frame your face as the sun hits you just right

no one:

bakugo's guard: 🏃🏾‍♀️🏃🏾‍♀️

izuku midoriya !

he happened to turn his head as you were walking in

his head had sIRENS going off

"p pr e t t y yy"

he has s o m a n y q u e s t i o n s it's not even funny

how long did it take? does it hurt? did you do them yourself?

and by the way if you can do box braids on your own head, i have so much respect for you but anyways

he's just staring at you as you're taking your notes

thinking of how etheral you look right then

and he's taking his own notes

not for class but of you

he made a lil sketch on one of the pages in his notebook

and when class is over

he comes up to you

maybe in the cafeteria

and he starts asking all the questions that he wanted to

ofc you're happy to answer

he's writing everything down with a soft yet determined smile on his face

and you keep talking as he nods, noting all info you're providing

but then he hears something being hit over and over again

and he looks up

and you're just ,,,

smackin the shit outta yo head ??

miss gurl is you okay ???

but you noticed the bewildered look on his face

and explained how you can't directly itch your head because it would frizz up the braids

long story short, he's very interested in your hair and its background

shoto todoroki !

he was sO confused lmao

he was like

"how does black hair work ??????"

because you could be natural one day

and then have bantu knots the next

and don't even get me sTARTED on wigs

"is it a part of their quirk?"

he's an extremely blunt person

so he just kinda walks up to you like

"how does ur hair work"

and you're glad to tell him of course

but bro pls slow down

this is a lot to take in at once

of course he's interested and wants to learn

but his brain is only so big 😔 have mercy bro my man is not megamind

eventually he starts to grasp the idea

and he'd love you to educate him on your next hairstyle :)

eijiro kirishima !

kiri would immediately hide all straighteners from you if you were insecure or doubting your appearance but that's for another time bc we talkin about box braids rn

y'all know how i religiously believe this man is a simp

so the rESPECT HE HAS FOR YOU WHEN YOU COME THROUGH WITH THOSE BRAIDS-

WHEW CHILE

HE MIGHT BE MORE CURIOUS THAN DEKU

he wants to t o u c h

but he knows it's rude and won't do so without asking and getting your permission first

but once he gets the "ok"

hands all up in your shit

he might lightly pull on one ngl

but he'll immediately let go if you tell him to

even though that grip game strong 😤

he probably compliments you the most

so yeah

Respect ™‬

denki kaminari !

practically short circuited

like "oh"

"well this is new ,,,,,,,"

you know how he's always holding ojiro's tail

yeah so just expect him to take one of your braids and mindlessly twirl it around one of his fingers in class

he won't even realize he's doing it

you're just sitting in your seat and you'll feel your hair being played with and you turn around

and its just denki twirling it subconsciously as he talks to his friends

"bro"

he looks at you

and then you glance at the hair between his index and middle finger

and he follows your gaze

cue him dropping it and letting it fall onto your back again

"oh sorry!"

"its okay," you smile softly at him

he wants to kith u

and i don't know about u

but i would take that kith

———

i got lazy this wasn't even good smh

anyways i'll see y'all in another two months 😹😹

[euphoricfilter]

Ah so many good replies to my recent asks! Thank you! Not me asking for it and then feeling sad about the contract ending and the relationship for the contract ask lol it’s an interesting concept but oof it hurt a lil lol. My hollyhomburg thoughts kinda going everywhere lol. And I ask you for thoughts like 3 times, sorry lol. Yeah, I’ve read hollyhomburg’s fic! One of my favorite writers. They said the next ch is going to be smutty so 👀 I love their smut in bily but they space it out more which is nice too. The fluff is also super cute. And the angst is top tier. I’ve teared up to it a few times. Their omegaspace stuff is so good and written the most I’ve read in bts omega verse fics. Mc is so cute especially during it. The Namjoon feeding her on her lap and then lightly scruffing her part ahh omg. I love the casual dominance!! I wanted to ask you about it but idk if you’d know what I meant lol Please share some thoughts on it! I kinda want that bc I find it hard to take care of myself with food, water, and sleep ;^; Collars is a holy grail ch omg! it’s written so well for a concept I love. I follow them on Twitter and read some good member x members fics based on their likes. I’m too scared to check their nsfw account hmm even though I think they’re pretty. The snake top pic omg. I just want to imagine them as cute :( But not them saying mc’s heat will come closer to the end of the series TT I’m hoping we’ll get to see the others in rut and heat soon at least. The tae and Jimin in the car scene omg. Slick drunk Namjoon with his chain collar and leash. The spanking ch esp bc yoongi uses mc’s thighs and we first get to see slick drunk Namjoon. I can’t wait to read when mc can fit him. The few ideas she wrote that Namjoon is so big. It makes his pups quiet and dumb during cockwarming omg. I crave a full on puppy hobi scene with mc there too. But it’s still slow burn between them. It’s so torturous but good. Please share thoughts on puppy hobi and mc with Namjoon and Jin dom! Omg dom Jin is so good here. I also thought the full alpha bts pack would include omega mc but it’s cute as is too. Please share thoughts on thus! Tae’s story and poems. Mc’s development TT NOODLE best boi! Too bad he doesn’t like all of the pack, but the reasoning is nice :/ How could they make it that noddle doesn’t like Yoongi though?! I want to imagine Yoongi with a cat since we haven’t seen it irl :/ It’s such a masterpiece omg! -🖤

IM SORRY AVOUT THE CONTRACT ASK LMAO

ahhh i’ve been reading bily since the first chapter and i’m so excited for the next one!!!!!!! their writing is always so pretty ahhhh

the m/c and namjoon’s recent date was cute as well AND NOODLE IS A WHOLE BABY i’d have thought that maybe because the m/c and yoongi are bonded noodle would have warmed up to yoongi more

i’ve really enjoyed the series so far though! it was always nice to wake up to the new chapter and i don’t usually read slow burn fics because i’m extremely impatient and like to be able to finish a series in like 2 or 3 sittings. however! bily is definitely one of my favorite stories on tumblr!

i love the idea of just being taken care of, it can be really hard sometimes to remember to do everything by yourself and making sure that you’re healthy, i’d sell a kidney to just have someone do all of the hard bits for me 😭

ahh i haven’t followed them on twitter maybe i should do that!!!!

i’m interested in the way they plan to write the rut/ bear scenes especially since i think a lot of the big stuff if happening towards the end of the series!! i’ll wait though because i know it’s going to be good. it’ll be interesting to see everyone’s dynamics while all in that situation rather than 3-4 of them at a time

JIMIN AND TAE CAR SCENE I SCREAMED

there’s something so yummy about the m/c physically being too small to take namjoon and you just know it’s going to be so so good when she finally can

m/c x puppy hobi would be really interesting to see but as it stands we’re still slowly working towards their relationship 😭

i think puppy hobi is really cute and somehow really fits his character. i also love the dynamic between namjoon and the m/c, just broad alpha who’s really trying his best to keep everyone together and slowly learning how to love the m/c the way she needs to be loved is so precious. now i love the m/c x jin even more HES SO I DONT EVEN HAVE THE WORDS EXCEPT YES PLEASE jin is just so yummy and i love how he loves the m/c and just always seems to know what’s best and he’s firm but not pushy

the m/c’s development has been slow but when you look back on earlier chapters shes come so far!!!! and i love tae’s character she’s so precious and her whole storyline has been so interesting to read about and now that she’s come out IM SO EXCITED FOR MOMMY TAE IM GONNA SCREAM

bily is definitely a masterpiece and will remain one of my favorite fics i’ve ever read!

[beomglocks]

unlikely allies ; txt x reader

part: four.1 ,,,, next chapter / previous chapter

plot: when a zombie apocalypse breaks out in your town, you’re forced to team up with a group of boys from very different social standards in your school.

genre: fluff, angst, horror i guess?, not really that scary but alright, some funny moments

w/c: 2.1k

warnings: blood, gruesome scenes (kind of really detailed), cursing, everyone hates each other, definitely some major injuries, zombies duh, everyone kinda pining for mc

︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵

"we are going to find more people y/n. we need to make up for beomgyu," taehyun spits. beomgyu walks up to him with anger taking over his features. "im still here you know! and i'd just hate for the kang taehyun to get bit because wouldn't that just be soooo fucking tragic! news flash, everyone's dead! you're not famous!"

"stop arguing!" you pull them apart but yeonjun shoves you away from them. "why? why should stop arguing?"

"we're all gonna die anyways," soobin says casually from his spot on the ground.

taehyun rolls eyes, walking straight into the library without any hesitation. "wait-" before you can warn him you all see something that makes you freeze.

you swear you remember that kid from somewhere. his fluffy hair is covering his eyes and instead of his baggy sweater covering his frame, it has ridden up to showcase his nonexistent abdomen. the zombies have absolutely ravaged the kid's body, leaving nothing but a lone carcass. there are still zombies lurking around his body, trying to feast on whatever part of him is left.

something beside the boy's body catches your eye and you realize who he is.

"ah shit," they mumble. you snap out of glaring at yeonjun to see a boy on the floor with books scattered around him. "shit im sorry! i should've been looking at where i was going," you apologize kneeling down to help the boy pick up his books.

"oh don't worry i shouldn't have taken up carrying so many books to the point where i couldn't see!" the boy's voice is so cheerful it makes you smile. you're glad he's not mad at you.

the boy is really cute too. his boyish features suit his face well and his hair is messy but looks like he stylized it that way. he's dressed comfortably in a huge sweater and baggy jeans with a molang keychain attached to one of the belt loops.

"where are you even going with all these books?" you ask. "i offered to take these back to the library for my english teacher, in hindsight i really should've just taken two or three not the whole stack." he chuckles sheepishly. he gets back up, picking up as many as he can.

you cover your mouth, trying not to let out an audible sob. even though you didn't know the freshman too well, this boy had left an impression on you with his cheeriness. that and the fact that this is the second time you've seen someone get eaten alive.

"hueningkai?" taehyun whispers. he takes several steps forward as if he's in a trance. "taehyun wait-"

"kai??" he raises his voice more but it cracks. the zombies in close proximity of you all snap their heads up at the sound of taehyun's voice. "tae we need to get out of here right n-"

"y/n!" you hear soobin call. you turn around to see beomgyu convulsing on the floor wildly. "w-what happened?" soobin shakes his head frantically. "he might be turning." you want to cry at the sight of your friend curled up in pain. you can tell he's trying to hold back his screams as to not draw attention to the group and get you all killed.

it's too late though because the zombies that were eating kai alive are now running towards you all. "what do we do?" yeonjun cries. you don't know what to do at this point. there's absolutely no saving beomgyu, who is currently turning. you go to grab taehyun's arm to at least try to save one person from your party but the zombie at the front of the group has already pounced on him. "NO!" you yell.

even though the zombie has sunk it's teeth into taehyun's ankle, you still try to drag him away in hopes of saving him. he's kicking at its face with the tiny sliver of strength he has left after being thrown to the floor. "don't worry taehyun im not leaving you," you huff.

you don't think you've ever had this much determination for anything ever. all you know is that someone's life is on the line and if you just try hard enough they might survive.

you're suddenly pulled back by your shirt when the entire group of zombies get to taehyun's idle body. "wait!" you reach out to him but it's too late. they've already began gnawing away at him. taehyun puts up a good fight but it's no use. there are too many of them.

he lets out a string of pained screams and all you can do is close your eyes.

"we have to go! we have to go," yeonjun screams. he shakes you to get you to get up but you have already given up. not one but three of the people who you've met have died. it hurts to know that they were once alive, smiling brightly with hope and life shining in their eyes.

it's not even the fact that prior to a zombie apocalypse happening you most likely gave no shits about these people but the stakes and circumstances have changed. of course now you care because you hoped they would love to see another day.

yeonjun sucks his teeth and picks you up. it takes a bit of extra strength on his part and he knows it'll slow him down tremendously but he doesn't care. "it's gonna be ok!" he reassures. you get a better view of soobin and beomgyu when he lifts you up and it makes you want to look away.

beomgyu's arm now has discolored veins that scale all the way up to him face. his eyes are glazed over and now white colored. you can see trances of dyed tears on his face but he's too far gone. he's dead and he's a threat to you all now.

"soobin r-!" yeonjun slaps his hand over you mouth so that you don't attract the zombies on taehyun to start going after you both.

soobin tries to hold his own against the now undead beomgyu and you can't exactly tell what's going on. yeonjun leads you away from the library and you can only hear a scream from who you assume is soobin.

"where are we going we can't just leave soobin behind like that!" you try to stand and halt the both of you but yeonjun harshly pulls you along. "yes we can and we will!" he barks. "there isn't a chance in hell that we could've saved him. it's us or him!"

he shoves you into the electrical room of the school. the door was thankfully unhinged otherwise the door would've remained locked.

there's nothing but silence minus the rapid breathing coming from you both. you go through what just happened and start to burst into tears, haphazardly wiping at your face but failing when more tears come down. yeonjun sighs, letting himself fall on the floor.

he doesn't even have time to rest before he hears a pounding coming from outside the door. "y/n? y-yeonjun? l-let me in!" you look over to yeonjun who's already looking at you wide eyed. "soobin?" you mumble. you go to stand but yeonjun launches himself at you. "hell no! soobin go away!" he yells.

"please open the door! they're coming! please!" soobin pleads. you shake your head, "yeonjun we have to help him please!"

yeonjun contemplates for a little bit longer than you'd like but he suddenly stands up. he gets to the door however he doesn't open it all the way. "are you bit? there's no way you came out of that unbitten."

soobin looks around unsure of himself. he grips onto his arm tighter from what you can see and you silently hope and pray he's not bit. however yeonjun also notices his suspicious behavior. "you're not coming in," he says. he starts closing the door again but soobin shoves past him.

yeonjun runs after him and tackles him to the ground. you look back at the door and you can hear the zombies that were following soobin approaching. you make a run for it to shut the door but yeonjun yells at you. "we have to leave it open for when i throw this asshole out of here!"

"but-" you wince when yeonjun punches soobin square in the face. it doesn't seem to phase the other boy as he growls and turns the tables on yeonjun. soobin has always been a bit stronger than yeonjun so it's no surprise that especially at this moment he's overpowering the other boy.

you rack your brain trying to come up with a logical plan. though you aren't being given many options. it's either wait until yeonjun manages to throw soobin out meaning you risk the group of zombies reaching you all or you lock yourself in the electrical room with an already bitten soobin.

you bite your lip watching soobin throw as many punches as he can with an unusable arm and yeonjun blocking them as best as he can. however, soobin was steadily getting weak and you could tell as well as yeonjun. with one swift push, soobin falls back onto the ground and yeonjun punches him again for good measure. 

you can't see them well in the dimly lit electrical room however with the sliver of light pouring in from the door being open you can somewhat make out yeonjun's face. soobin sure did a number on him. his nose is dripping blood and his lips are bruised and swollen. his eye is also bruised and swollen and you're not sure if he can even see from it. god, he looks miserable.

he looks up at you and spits some blood out from his mouth. "lets get him out of here," he mumbles. you watch him get off soobin but he stumbles a bit. "yeonjun please hurry i think the zombies are coming," you tell him. he groans but says nothing in response.

yeonjun picks soobin up but once he has soobin's arm around his shoulder soobin starts shuddering. "you're gonna turn soon," yeonjun mumbles. soobin chuckles in between his shaking, "you care about me all of a sudden. i thought we were sworn enemies?"

yeonjun rolls his eyes, "whatever." if this were happening at any other time you might have smiled at them. you smile sadly when the two boys reach you at the door. you lean down to soobin's hunched over state and hold his face in your hands. "im sorry," you say. he shakes his head but says nothing to you. 

"t-the gun," he mumbles in pain. you can see the veins starting to crawl up his shoulder and onto his neck now. "if we shoot you then the zombies that were after you are sure to start running towards here," yeonjun frowns. "soobin i don't think any of us are willing to k-kill you," you say as a tear rolls down your face. 

his head snaps backwards violently then he slumps forward. "please," he manages to croak out.

you shut the door, closing your eyes. "y/n..." yeonjun says. "we can't let him die as one of those- those things!" you shout. yeonjun sighs, putting soobin down onto the floor. "think about this, you're about to kill another living being!" 

"WHAT OTHER OPTION IS THERE?" you lash out. yeonjun stands there shocked at your outburst and the expression on his face makes you cry even harder than before. "what other option is there?" you cry softly.

you both look over to soobin who's now started convulsing on the floor. unlike beomgyu, this time he doesn't hold in his blood curling screams of pain. there isn't much time left before he turns.

you tentatively take the gun from his person and hold it up to his head. his eyes open momentarily and you see the fear in them flash through. he closes them tightly once again to brace himself and a tear rolls down his face. "i-im s-sorry," you cry. even as you hold the gun to his head, you hesitate. killing someone wasn't as easy as you thought. yeonjun walks up but not before wiping a tear from his face. "cmon."

he helps you hold the gun steady but removes your finger from the trigger. "close your eyes ok?" he whispers close to your ear. you sniffle, watching soobin struggle to keep his humanity. he opens and closes his eyes and keeps flinching and convulsing in different ways. you can tell he’s really in pain and not just because of his screams.

“im sorry soobin,” you cry. “im sorry!” you close your eyes tightly, waiting for yeonjun to pull the trigger.

you hold your breath and you can feel yeonjuns on the back of your head. his is nowhere near steady and you can’t imagine how he’s feeling having to kill another human being. his breathing is shaky and unsteady.

he tightens his grip on the gun and you feel his breath stop completely.

“three,” he mutters.

you’re sobbing uncontrollably at this point, unable to say the next number so he does it for you. “two.”

“one.”

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

taglist: @fxd-skz @jinniehyunjin @bluemoonnightmare @srcasticking-main @shuichi-sama @hyunjinsicedamerican0 @groovybiscuitdiplomatpeach @cutiegyu @gyyuniverse @strykiss @minari-iii @minheesmini @cha-raena @yuto-darling​ @hyunjinhasmyheart​ @whateveryouwant90 @peachy-maia @strawberryaourt @binniebutter​

[thesolotomyhan]

narcos: jealousy hc poison

a/n: yall im so sorry this took so long but its here and i hope its not bad pls love me:(( on another note i finished my finals so let’s hope my energy matches my free time now to get requests rolling out for you amores :) anyways lets get into it,, 

Tags: @fandomnerd16 @visintaes @sheeshgivemeabreak @artemiseamoon @fleurfatale89

let me know if you want to be tagged!

Warnings: NSFW! you know the drill + its longgg

alright, so i get a feeling this would happen in the beginnings of your relationship with poison

like when no one actually knew that you two were dating-

every one of the guys just kinda think youre his friend since they’ve never seen you before and they dont expect poison being someone to be in a relationship you feel???

but either way, i imagine this would happen in the club with all the sicarios because the v i b e sss im feeling are coming from here,,

and also the fact that his ass would come up with some shit like “she’s just a friend, nada mas”

especially once quica gives him that shit eating smile when he sees poison pull out a chair out for you,, holding your hand- just acting like this gentlemen all of a sudden,,

omg- you would probably give poison this subtle look like really?? a friend? but,, just him giving you this nod like just go with it please

and honestly i can see this going smoothly like no problem whatsoever, youre both having a good time ya know,,,

like at this point he has his arm slung around the back of your chair,, everyones laughing and living the night and just- comfortable that he has you by his side and getting along with everyone,,,

but here we fucking go-

i would bet money that quica would be that mf to sweep in next to poison as soon as you get up to go to the bathroom or get some more drinks or something,,

just- this smiling dumbass telling poison he’s going to dance with you once you come back,, just so he can provoke poison because i know he fucking would,,

like i can imagine quica was already trying to get a rise out of poison throughout the night by making sure to direct his fucking jokes to you,, make you laugh and talk with him more than poisons dry ass-

and just before poison can even shut that idea down, quica’s already over here saying something like “what? pense que ella era solo una amiga? i want to dance with your friend, acabo se ve que a ella le caigo mejor que vos”

and omg- the way poison would just glare as he watches quica get up and walk up to you before you reach the table

and you wanting to be social,, honestly dont think much about it,, like its just a quick innocent dance with poisons friend,, nothing could go wrong-

but yall i JUST KNOW once quica has you bien pegadito with him

his ass would be looking over your shoulder at poison, making sure to get his reaction everytime he pulls your body closer with his, or every time he leans in to your ear making you laugh at something he said-

and poison’s over here not paying a single attention to what sure shots telling him,, like his whole attention is on you and quica-

cursing under his breath as he watches the way youre dancing with quica instead of him

and the way youre letting him pull your body closer into his with his hand on the small of your back-

just,, bouncing his leg impatiently every time he sees you laugh and just his eyes becoming darker everytime he makes eyecontact with quicas smirking ass-

wOW just poison having this tense posture,, lips sealed so tight that his hand is itching to reach into his back pocket to pull his gun out,,

and its not until hes had enough once he catches quica’s hand getting too close to his liking near your ass

and like a switch was FLIPPED because all i can imagine is pissed off poison, abruptly getting up that it knocks his chair over,, his jaw clenched as he strides over to the two of you so quick,,,

and just ripping quica off of you, almost making him fall and poison is just heated as hes ready to knock the shit out of him at any second as he stands in between the two of you - “hijo de puta, que te pasa, no la toques aSI”

god,, the intense ass stare off between the both of them, the red lighting of the club and bumping of the music only stirring more emotions in poison wanting nothing more than to wipe quicas smug smile off his face-

but then just,, poison snatching your arm when he turns around, not about to make an even bigger scene already as he drags you out,,

he wont utter a single word to you throughout the car ride, b/c im just imagining him having this death grip on the steering wheel,,, scowl on his face not wanting to hear a single word from you either right now,,

ohh fuck,, ok and once you both get home you would just head straight to the bedroom because at this point you just think he needs a moment to himself,, get some space b/c the atmosphere is fucking t h i c k

bUT then him GraBbing the back of your neck before you walk away,, roughly pulling you back into him and kissing you, not giving you a minute to even think

his hands would be roaming your body,, pushing you back to the bedroom, as youre desperately moving to take his clothes off as he tears off yours, not caring if they ripped or not in the process,,

wow- him dropping you on the bed as he stands at the end,, watching as you come up to him on your knees, your hands coming to unbuckle his pants as you feel his hands grip your ass

and the innocent look your giving him only makes him harder than he already is even tho he wants so badly to be mad at you-

“perdoname papi, no quise hacerte enojar” omg

and then him just giving you these abrupt rough spanks that you know are going to leave marks as he pulls you closer into him,, moving to knead your ass,,, your faces almost touching-

and before you can say anything else,, hes already turning you around and pushing you down onto the bed with your ass up, massaging you to alleviate the pain-

WOW ok,, this is leading into doggy style where he would have you almost ripping the pillows under you as you feel his bruising grip continuously tighten on your hips while he thrusts into you from behind,

just- having you to the point where when he looks down,,, your wobbling knees are about to give out,, your cum dripping down your legs onto the sheets,, and your muffled screams of his name being drowned out by your face in the pillow,,

and him pulling your body up to his by your hair, never once slowing down his thrusts as he places one of his hands on top of yours encouraging you to lick your fingers and touch yourself for him,, beg for him to make you cum- im sorry

i wow, just him holding your body up when you almost collapse,, his movements not once stopping even when youve moved your hand away from your clit,, just getting you until your pleading moans turn incoherent,,  

-turning you around on your back,, and moving to hold both of your arms above your head,, driving his hips roughly into you again not giving you a second to breathe,, 

forcing your legs to stay open with his body when he feels you start to squeeze them around him because you want to so badly close your legs,,

god- his hand coming to grasp your neck,, moving one of your legs over his shoulder as he moves his other hand down to play with your throbbing clit-

“de quien eres, mamacita? tu crees que ese malparido te puede chingar asi?”

and dear god,, you cant even make his name sound coherent because your brain is solely focused on the snapping of his hips, his cock so deeply buried inside of you,, his fingers overdriving your stimulation and the feeling of his other hand increasingly adding pressure to your neck-

and the only thing coming out of your mouth is loud whimpers as you throw your head back,,, the feeling of his teeth sinking into your jaw has you feeling so many emotions as you dig your nails into his shoulders- 

just- him constantly reminding you that hes the only one able to make you feel like this,, making you stutter parts of his name out- i

making a mess out of you ok,, silencing you when you try to tell him you cant do another orgasm but telling you that you made him do this to you so you better take it to remind you that no eres de nadie mas,, 

holding your trembling legs open as he watches you still take him in by the way you let out moans of his name and the rise of your hips when he bottoms out- im not ok

wow just- by the time he’s done with you,, your whole body is jolting and covered in marks, your soreness starting to show,, and no words coming out of you as he ghosts his hand over you,,

[lilacandladybugs]

Hello Lilac! o/ hope you’re doing well. I’m currently chilling with my cat. How are you doing? Also how is the weather over there? B/c mine was so nice and warm then it suddenly had a temperature drop. Anyway, have a good day/evening/night! :D

hallo!!! sorry i am slow i just . idk why im like this i was going to defend myself but then i dont have a defense. i am sick today and so i skipped class it's been kinda nice actually (apart from the being sick part) and yeah. im having a good time :) watched yt all day and ignored my responsibilities. had a good time

[ryvgvji]

heyy can i request sfw letters A, K, Q, S and nsfw A, C, P, Q, X for sakusa, osamu and hyunjin(skz) im sry if its a bit weird putting them all tgt hehe

sure thing, it’s no biggie :) hope you enjoy

(apologies for any grammar errors. i am sorry that this took so long, i hope that didn’t bother you :). )

Characters/People: Sakusa Kiyoomi, Osamu Miya, Hwang Hyunjin(skz)

Sakusa:

A = Admiration Sakusa admires your determination. he loves when his s/o has their head on there shoulders and know what they won’t to do in life, being that he is a so called realist as he would say. he would talk to them about their ambitions and dreams, listening to them ramble on and on about what they wanna accomplish. he finds it interesting and quite cute even though he won’t say it to them. he would 100% support and help them.

K = Kiss Sakusa likes to kiss his s/o on their forehead. he’s giving me that kinda vibe, as well as cheek. he is tall after all so i feel like he would kiss you there for that reason as well. he like how simple the action is yet shows so much feeling whenever he does it. the way that he would kiss his s/o would be very gentle but yet lovingly. he would do at the most unexpected times. he’d just hook his finger under their chin tilting their head up and lean down placing a soft kiss onto their own.

Q = Quarrels i don’t think he would really argue back, he’d just stand there in listen, of course judging them with his eyes. the reason for this argument would probably be over him being petty. the argument would be finish within 10 minutes because of his s/o getting fed up and walking away but the tension would carry on to two days. he would apologize by text and in person once again. he’d show up to their door asking for their forgiveness and tell them he’s sorry.

S = Sad when their s/o is sad he would usually ask them what’s happen and if they wanna talk. but for the most part he would just be there with them and keep them company while they cuddle up close to him, waiting until they are ready to talk. when he is sad, the best way to cheer him up would be buy him Umeboshi (basically a fruit related to the apricot) and surprise him with a warm bath. always gets him every time. if that’s what he’s really up for, show him affection and that you are there for him. tell him you love him.

NSFW

A = Aftercare during aftercare he’d try his best to very quick yet so delicate. he makes sure to shower himself and his partner. after that long session and being covered in fluid along with sweat he for sure wants that off of him quickly. he’d dress his partner first so that they could go to sleep then quickly join them in bed after he changed the bedsheets.

C = Cum Sakusa’s cum would be more liquidity side but still sticky and white. it usually shoots out in short stings but can be long depending on how hard he’s been. he like to cum in his partner’s mouth or along their tits, somewhere where it wouldn’t be such a mess or hassle to clean later on. he likes to see their swollen lips wrapped around him as he ejaculates down their throat. it turns him on to the max.

P = Pace i firmly believe that Sakusa would be very slow and deep. i could just see him having his partners legs on his shoulder as his hips slams down against their thighs. he rolls his hips into them, pulling out slightly before slamming back into cause their eyes to roll. but he could always be rough and fast if he wants to. when he’s been needy all day, for sure he would rearrange their guts.

Q = Quickie Sakusa view on quickies is that he don’t mind them but wouldn’t do it often. he doesn’t get horny that easy so he wouldn’t do it that much. and if he is, he’d probably most likely wait until both him and his partner are in private. he wouldn’t wanna risk get caught by someone if he were to fuck you in the bathroom or dressing room of a store. he might do it, once, twice or maybe about five times if his s/o really beg him to. and that’s a lot of work. obviously he won’t be able to hold back any longer with the way they’re touching on him like that, so he will gladly give them what you want.

X = X-ray i would say that i think Sakusa’s length would 5.7 when soft and 6.6 when it’s erected. as for width, he a little thickness, but not a lot. it has a slight curve going upwards that would almost instantly hit that spot when he enters inside. it would be so hard to not come to fast, the pleasure.

Osamu:

A = Admiration Osamu admires your optimism. they always see the best in things. they never doubt yourself or anyone around them. they believe in people and the pros of every situation. there is never a time where they would be negative about a something, always positive. always that positive and good energy radars from them even in the worst of time and cheers everyone up around them. he absolutely loves that about them and tells them that every day.

K = Kiss he likes to kiss his partner on their lips and possibly on their temple as well. he likes the way the lips feel against his. he like the intimate gesture that it shows. he’d kiss them whenever he feels like it. at home, out on a date, at work- okay maybe not at work but he’d kiss them as he likes. he kiss their temple when they are cuddled up or hugging each other. he kisses that area in an indication that he’s there for them always and for comfort. he’s always available. he’s never busy for his s/o, just call him and he will be there right away.

Q = Quarrels he’d be the be quiet at first and then once he’s had enough he would argue back. the cause for the argument would probably be him getting mad over Atsuma flirting with them. it would go on for an hour with insults being thrown back and forth, and the tension between each other would go on for as long as he would handle, probably till late night or bed time. his way of apologizing would include him sitting on the bed and saying that he was wrong for what he did, and he shouldn’t have acted that way. he’d embrace them in a hug and kiss their temple.

S = Sad when his s/o is sad he would buy food for the both of them and share. he’d curl up in a blanket with them and eat as they talk out their feelings. Osamu would listen, comforting and offering a shoulder to cry on. he will not move until they’re better. when he isn’t in the best of moods, the best thing to do is surprise him with food and watch a movie. nothing makes him happier than his s/o by his while he eats delicious food and watch a great movie. that’s always the best day of his life.

NSFW

A = Aftercare aftercare with Osamu would be like heaven. he’d take his time to make his someone feel at peace and relaxed. running a bath and giving them a massage. absolute best. he’d then get them dressed and ready for bed. then doing the same and cuddling up to them.

C = Cum Osamu’s cum would be white and creamy as it shoots out at a fast pace. it could sometimes be sticky. he’d prefers to cum on his someone’s stomach. he enjoys watching the way they tremble with their chest heaving up and down as he ejaculates on them. it’s such an amazing sight to see.

P = Pace Osamu would start off slow then gradually speed up. he’d the the same spot over and over again, having his partner’s legs shaking. he’d lean down nuzzling his head in the crook of their neck as he slams into them at an angle that makes their heads loll back. once he feels them about to cum, he will lean back on his heels, pull their hips of the bed and fuck then until the cum all over his dick.

Q = Quickie he does mind at all. Osamu is down to do whatever they wanna do. from going down on his s/o in the locker room, to fucking them while at a family gathering. he’s down for whatever his baby wants.

X = X-ray i feel like he, he’s a solid 7. erected and not. the width would be about 3-4 inches not too big but enough to feel the stretch. it curves a bit to the right and is fully circumcised.

Hyunjin:

A = Admiration Hyunjin love the fact that you light up the room everytime you walk in. anytime that you come to visit him at dance practice or at the dorms, the boys would always be happy to see you. there’s never a time where you fail to put a smile on his face. he is absolutely in love with everything about you.

K = Kiss Hyunjin enjoys kissing on your neck. he like to lean in and just leave soft kiss trails up to your ear. which is you absolute weakness. he loves the smell of your perfume everytime he nuzzled close to you. it’s the best scent ever. when y’all are cuddling he would pull you close to his chest and kiss up and down your neck while having his arms wrapped around your waist.

Q = Quarrels an argument would probably be based around his well-being. you are always telling him that your worried about his physical and mental health. you constantly encourage him to not care about what people say, and focus on himself, but of course what they say can still get to him. then he would be like your overreacting and your acting like his mom, you fricken lose it on him. the argurment probably lasts like 20 mins, 30 tops if he argues back. when it’s time to apologize, he usually looks you in the eyes while hand your hands and saying that he’s sorry for not listening and calling you his mother and he will try to be better.

S = Sad when your sadness takes over, he’s immediately by your side to cheer you up. he lay with you as you talk your problems out. he hugs you tight telling you that you are important and you mean everything to him. a big sweetheart. when he’s sad the best thing to do is make him smile. it’s completely hard for him not to smile around you period. you light up his world. as a little extra, buy the baby some sushi. he will be extremely happy about it.

NSFW

A = Aftercare aftercare with Hyunjin is very lazy. after you guys came down from cloud nine, he has his arms wrapped around you as he pulls your back to his chest panting heavily. his voice groggy tells you how amazing you were and massages your hips to calm you down. after 20 minutes are so, he’d finally get out of bed dragging you both to the bathroom to wash off. he’s help you wash up and rinse your body very softly. when you’re both done, you both get dress and cuddle and talk till you fall asleep

C = Cum Hyunjin’s cum would be slightly clear and thick. it shoots out in long strings and is sticky. Hyunjin probably prefers to cum on you chest and stomach, it always his go to place. if he’d feeling hot, he just might cum on your face, only if you allow him to.

P = Pace Hyunjin’s pace of a very steady and slow pace. he will have your legs wrapped around him as he pulls out half way and push back in, hitting that spot so precisely. your legs would be shaking, eyes rolled back and your body clinging on to his for dear life.

Q = Quickie not the biggest fan on quickies honestly. but if you had offered to suck him off in the dance room when the boys aren’t there, who is he to say no to that. he would be hesitant because he wouldn’t want to be caught and get in trouble. tell him how much you want to do this and he’s instantly taking his pants off.

X = X-ray Hyunjin is probably at best 7 inches and slim. the shaft isn’t that big but the tip makes up for it. it kinda curves upward close to the tip and has a big of foreskin.

[ficsnroses]

Intimate - John Wick x Reader (nsfw A-Z headcanons)

Word Count : Way too many. (little under 5K...im so sorry guys you know I have a problem)

Warnings : Smut. Fluffs.

Summary : All about your sex life with John :)

A/N : Requested by a few lovely anons! Did I forget a letter? Let’s hope not. Are these even headcanons cuz they’re so long??? These were tricky, I’m sorry if they kinda suck, it took me a hot minute into last night to complete them. Enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated.🖤

A : Aftercare. (What he’s like after sex).

John has a heart of gold, despite his enthralling profession. Many think John can be stoic, cold, reserved, but you; you know John. After sex, John makes sure to keep you close, asking over and over to make sure you’re alright. He’d never hurt you, even if during the deed. For a moment, he rests his forehead against yours as you’ve both came together, eyes closed as he catches his breath, cock still buried deep in you. He relishes in the afterglow, your head on his chest as he holds you, bulky arms wrapped around your figure, every now and then he presses a kiss to your hair, sighing deep relief; contentment. Sometimes, you’ll lay there together, skin sticking from the heat, relaxing in the moment. John will pepper kisses over your temples, your cheeks, your hands, your wrists. Being quiet and reserved, it’s his way of letting you know how much he loves you, and how lucky he feels to be able to make love to you. Normally, he prefers being the big spoon after sex. But, he is human. Sometimes, he likes being held by you; finds it really cute when you try to wrap your much smaller limbs to his much larger body. If he’s been away for a while, he loves pillow talk, lost in the company of just him, and the woman he loves.

B : Body Part. (His favourite body part of yours).

John is a simple man. He adores each part of you, to him, you are the embodiment of perfect. If he had to choose, however, he loves your breasts. They provide a safe haven for him to nestle his head in during sex, especially if its missionary. When you’re on top, it turns him on immensely to see them bounce up and down, so full, so plump, swollen from pleasure. John loves hugging you from behind, whether it be in the morning in front of the washroom mirror as you’re just waking up, or as you’re getting dressed on the edge of your bed after some hot and passionate sex. Occasionally, he’ll trail his hands up, palms and fingers working your breasts, fondling, massaging as delicate kisses place themselves on your neck from his sultry lips. Of course, when he’s spoon fucking you, or has you bent over as he slams in from behind, he loves to reach forward and hold your breasts.

C : Cum.

John has a lot of cum, can you even be surprised though? You feel dirty admitting it, but you love his cum. It’s the most intimate form of him, and its reserved only for you. It’s quality seed as well; thick, succulent, creamy, perfectly glossed. It’s not a bad taste at all; a delicacy to your lips if you will. John has almost a primal need for his cum to be inside you when he finishes; he feels it where it belongs. Whether it be brimmed deep inside your cunt, or in your mouth after you’ve gone down on him. He’s never actually admitted it due to his slight shyness, but he loves when you swallow for him. Pulls his heart seams to know you love and trust him enough to do it. Part of the reason you’re on birth control is so he can come inside, you know how much he enjoys it, and how much he appreciates to feel all of you, without the barrier of a condom. The feeling, his orgasm hitting him as with the force of night to day, you tighten around him, feeling him spill inside you; it’s pure nirvana for him. Coming inside you makes him feel closer to you; something he always craves.

D : Dirty Secret.

John is away often, but that doesn’t mean your sex life dies for the time he’s away. John and you always want one another, crave each other. You take pictures for John often, some suggestive; his favourite black, lacy lingerie embellished on your satin skin, allowing little to his imagination, and some full and frontal nudes. You love to hear the way his breath hitches over the phone as you hit send, the way his raspy voice compliments you.

 “Beautiful, sweetheart. So beautiful,” his coarse, yet velvety voice whispers, hand pulling out his girthy cock, that has already started to throb for you, from thousands of miles away.

What you don’t know though – John keeps each and every picture of you in an album on his phone, locked away where no one can find it, but him. He only does it because he knows you wont mind, those pictures are all for him, and you best believe he’s going to savour each and every one for as long as he can. They come in handy when he’s away and needs you; he can’t get off to anything else since but the thought of your heavenly body. You assume they just disappear in conversation overtime, so you take more for him, constantly replenishing his feed ;)

E : Experience.

John is experienced, in the sense that he certainly knows what he’s doing. He hasn’t slept with many people, his work made it tough, his attention and focus constantly diverted to it. You’ve been with John for many years now, but he is on the older side still. John has had a few flings over the course of his life, however, they never really meant much. With the very few times he has been with someone, it was merely because he needed someone to give him sweet, sweet relief. But when he met you, it all changed. With you, his experience comes in handy, because he always puts your needs before his. He pays close attention to what you want, always making sure to communicate.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” His hand moves to securely hold yours, letting you know he’s listening. “Harder, baby?”

John can effortlessly bring you to multiple orgasms during a session. His sturdy fingers, his veiny cock, his suave mouth, he knows how to use each tool to the best of it’s ability, for you. Of course, he’s willing to try anything new for you as well. You want to try a new position? He’s on it. Want him to pay attention to a certain part of your body? He’s already there.

F : Favourite Position.

Definitely depends on the mood, but he is simple and doesn’t try to be too adventurous. Normally, John prefers good old missionary. He likes the intimacy, holding onto your hips with your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close. His lips have easy access to litter slow, passionate kisses to your face, your neck, your chest as he pleases. However, John also appreciates a good ol riding as well from his baby, especially after a demanding job. During riding sessions, he indulges in you; being able to sit back and relax, your aching cunt bobbing up and down on him, your walls tightening around him, so perfectly soaked. The way he’s able to buck his hips up into you, to feel you deeper, the way he can hold you to his chest as you ride him, allowing him to speed up when he needs. 

The sounds you let out drive him insane. Did I mention, he loves watching himself slip in and out of you, the way your glistening releases coat his thighs, slicking his pulsing cock. Sometimes, he likes taking you from behind, he enjoys the gorgeous view of your peachy ass for him, and the way you whimper when his balls slap into your skin, the sounds so delicious filling his ears. Doggy style is also a close favourite of his, more for days when you both crave a good, rough fuck that’ll clear any trace of stress.

He enjoys a good against the wall fuck as well, in the shower is always nice. There have been a few times, he’s came home, neither of you able to control as he pins you against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist with his cock pounding you into oblivion.

G : Goofy. (Is he serious in the act or goofy?)

John isn’t too too goofy in the moment, but he can be on some days. Although he finds sex to be a very intimate, serious act, he can’t help but giggle at how adorable you can get during foreplay. You make him smile, laugh, feel loved, valued. You make him happy, and that comes out during sex as well. He sees you smile, and he’s gone. It’s his favourite thing in the world. If something happens in the moment, such as your face turning red from a particularly loud and explicit moan, he can’t help but smile, giggling with you.

On days when he’s tired and just needs to feel you, he can be a bit more serious. You don’t mind though; on days such as those, you focus your entire attention on making him feel good anyway, you know he deserves it. In turn, John tries incredibly hard to make you come as many times as possible on those days as well, it gives him relief and makes him feel better to know his lady is being treated well, leaving little room for giggles and laughs in those sessions.

H : Hair.

John used to not care before he met you, but now, he makes sure to keep himself tame and trimmed for you. The mans beard is always on fleek, you best believe the same follows down under. He does keep his hair; he’s never been one for being clean shaven. You love going down on him, tasting him in your mouth. He doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable, so he makes sure to keep clean for you. It is a bit bushy, but he’s consistent with grooming.

I : Intimacy.

Sex is John’s way of showing you how much he loves you, and how much you mean to him. John hasn’t been with many women; he’s never really had time for sex before you. But now, now that you’re together, in love, sex is what keeps your love fresh, alive, keeps you close and vulnerable with each other. He takes his time with you, making sure to appreciate each part of you, and the alter that is your body. He’s tender, gentle, he loves to feed your self confidence.

He loves kissing you during the act, lips smothering you as his cock slips in and out leisurely. While he’s thrusting is usually when his lips leak with praise for you, how good you feel, how much he loves you.

“Fuck, Y/N…” your name glides off his tongue, smooth as honey. “You…you feel amazing, sweetheart.” He whimpers, cock grinding your G spot each time he thrusts. “So good, baby.”

Even when he’s pounding into you, thrusts hasty, profound; he’ll still make sure to hold you tight, whether it be your hips or your hand. Anywhere from eye contact, to forehead touching, to the cuddle sessions after - John likes to let you know that he’s there with you in the moment; there for you, as he’ll always be.

Till his last breath.

J : Jack off.

Only when he’s away from you. When you’re together, he doesn’t need anything but you to make him feel good. But his work calls for it, and you know there’s times where you need to be away from him. Of course, he loves to have you on the phone for him as he sits in the Continental hotel room, a completed job behind. His palm sloppily wraps around his base, pumping slow, thumb swirling his tip as precum seeps out to the sound of your voice.

“Are you touching yourself, John?” You purr, your own hand trailing suggestively close to your heating center. A mere moan escapes his lips, the sound of your voice enough to make him feel bliss. Twitching, shuddering, he throbs in his hand, movements picking up as he strokes, base to shaft, to tip, pumping, with images of you clouding his mind.

“I want you to come for me, John. Let it out, baby. Let me hear you.” You encourage, hearing his moans, gasps and grunts over the much too distant phone line.

K : Kinks.

John is calm and collected, yet still a little shy. You adore that about him, the way his gentle personality shies away from fully letting you know what he wants sometimes. Over the course of your relationship however, you’ve learned some of his preferred kinks, and you love using them on him, on days you lounge together and have time to really get down and dirty.

Due to his profession, John takes control too much in other aspects of his life. In bed, on days where you want to focus on making him feel good, John relishes in being submissive. He loves to let you take control of him, allow you to do what you please with him. It makes him feel vulnerable, helps him feel human to be at your mercy. He loves you, trusts you enough to let you have him this way. He’s into light bondage, he likes having his wrists restrained, although nothing too insane. He is a simple man after all. Marking is a huge turn on for him, he loves leaving hickies on your silky skin, your collarbones, loves having them on him in turn. He loves body worship, appreciating each inch of you as he trails his kisses down your breasts, your chest, your stomach, slowly inching down to the ache between your legs.

Although John isn’t huge on praise kink, you do like the way he blushes ever so slightly when you tell him how good he’s making you feel.

“John…” You moan, fingernails digging into his back. “You’re fucking me so…” Whimpering, you whine softly in his ear. “So good, Jonathan…don’t stop baby, please…” He picks up pace, husky tone letting out small, soft moans as he slips in and out, fueled by your praise.

L : Location.

John and you have a mission; to have sex in each part of your home. Although his favourite is your bed, it’s safe, familiar, allows you both to be free and active as can. A close second is the couch, usually because the couch means you’re on top of him, spread on his thighs as he thrust up into you, hugging your body close. Hot seat position sex is easier on the couch as well. Anywhere in your house is John’s preferred place, in the comfort of where you live in peace together, the gateway to the dream that is your connection. He’s had you in the shower, in all the rooms, even on the hood of his car in your garage. 

The kitchen counter has been one of John’s favourites, assuming how often he has you whimpering for him on it. Fucking into you with your body propped on the counter? He’s a sucker for it. Being tall enough to reach your cunt standing, he props your leg against his torso and shoulder, holding it for support as your other wraps around his waist, watching himself glide in and out of you. it’s always rough on the kitchen counter, but you like it that way. He makes breakfast right after, returning the favour for letting him get one in before the start of the day. 

M : Motivation. (What gets him going?)

John is always turned on by you, you never have to try to get him to want you. Perhaps that’s just how deep you both are smitten with each other. He loves when you wear lingerie for him, it gets him tenting in his pants, his cock rising to the mere sight of you embroidered in lace for him. Lingerie shopping with John is always tricky due to it, he’ll have his hands roaming each crevice of your body in the dressing room, lips leaving delicate, quiet kisses along the skimpy lace adorned on your breasts. Of course, he’s no help in choosing a piece. Everything is perfect on you through his eyes.

He has a sensitive neck and ears, so he loves when you whisper for him, in your oh so sensual voice, smooth and sugary.

He loves celebrating with you after a successful contract. What better way to wind down than buried deep inside your cunt, warm, wet, as if perfectly moulded for him. Sometimes, that’s what gets him through work. Knowing that soon, he’ll be in your arms, where you’ll make him feel so, so good.

N : No. (What he won’t do)

John would never, ever hurt you, even if you asked. With all the violence, the murder that lies on his fingertips, he feels guilt. He tries not to, but he feels guilt. You love him endlessly, and you know he fears causing you even the smallest amount of pain during sex. If you wince a bit too loud, he’ll immediately pause and ask if you’re okay. Even if its simply the bulk of his sizable cock making you feel pain when he first enters, he gets concerned, always holding off until you’re adjusted to him, nodding when you’re ready for him to move.

You have a fantasy of John face fucking you, his twitching length jammed inside your throat, lapping as much as you can with your cheeks hallowed. You know it would be pure bliss for him, they way you’d choke on his cock for him, allowing him to savour each inch of your wet, warm, tight mouth. John is still a bit scared, however. He almost doesn’t trust himself; he fears he’ll hurt you.

You’ll get there someday, though. As long as you keep proving to him that you trust him.

More than anyone, anything else in the word.

O : Oral.

Oral is one of John’s favourite parts of sex. He loves going down on you, and love’s having you go down on him. John is crazy good at eating you out, he has had tons of practice with you. The way you moan for him, fingers tangling his hair turns him on like crazy, it’s addicting. The mere sound of you, writhing, whimpering as he laps your nectar, tongue expertly flicking your folds, your clit, hands graciously soothing your thighs, your breasts; he thrives off all of it. You love the sound of his mouth eating you out as well, the slicking, the smacking, the wetness of two of his stocky fingers pumping you, the way you know they’re the sounds of him making you feel good. He flattens his tongue, spreading your folds, alternating between the perfect symphony of fast and slow licks, making sure to dot a few kisses to your center through the process.

Head from John is a dream. A sweet, sweet, beautiful dream; only you have the pleasure to drift in.

P : Pace.

John is a master of pace, another attribute that comes in handy from his work. He knows exactly what pace to use for exactly the type of fuck you’re going for. During proper sex, where you both can take your time, he’ll always start off close and sensual as you get used to each other. His generous length is thick, heavy, and always needs time to get used to as mentioned. Slow at first allows him to focus his attention on kissing you passionately as he glides his dick in and out, feeling each other close. Gradually, he’s unable to hold himself back. Not when your pussy feels so heavenly around him. He’ll get faster and faster, until the bed frame is creaking and the wall behind is being pounded into-much like you. John has the power to shake your entire body with his thrusts, always keeping sure to hold you secure. Often, John leaves you aching for hours later, sometimes into the next day.

Q : Quickie.

A good quickie is always delightful for the both of you. You crave each other so much, that quickies inevitably find their way into your daily lives together as you coexist. In the morning as you’re just waking up? John never says no to a good ol quick morning fuck in your bed, your soft morning voice moans causing his heart to flutter. At breakfast on the kitchen table? John wasn’t able to resist when you wore just his oversized shirt and a pair of panties. Sometimes a good ol quickie before bed helps him sleep better, and you never deny him when he asks for one. John can have trouble sleeping sometimes, so sex before bed helps him relax, wind down, and most of all,

feel good. Something he deserves. 

R : Risk.

John is okay with taking risks, if you want to. He’s always looking for new ways to satisfy you in bed. If you want to try something new, he’ll always say yes for you. He trusts you, and you trust him, so experimenting can be nice sometimes. Sometimes, there have been instances where either he, or you don’t end up liking it, and it makes him a little upset. He doesn’t want to let you down.

You try out new positions all the time, the most recent being The Wheelbarrow. He loved it, the way your hands planted on the floor as he raised your hips to his cock, pounding, pelting into you from behind; your legs wrapped around him.

John likes thrill too, sometimes. He fantasizes about public sex, perhaps in the washroom of a restaurant or something, somewhere where the stakes are higher and you could get caught. He’d be extra cautious, of course. He’d never want to do anything to make you feel uncomfortable.

S : Stamina.

John can last decently long, long enough to make you cum. If it’s been a few weeks away from each other, and you haven’t been able to have sex in a while, his stamina increases and he can go for more rounds. There have been times where you’ve had to tap out on him as well, but he’s alright with it. He respects you way too much to make you give him sex when you don’t want to. On average, John can go for 2 rounds if you want him to, although most of the time, one is enough. John is the embodiment of quality over quantity; he fucks you so good, so well the first round, that you’re too sore for another, you’ve been completely satisfied.

“You got another one in you for me, princess?” John chuckles, your breathless body under him, coming down from your high with him still nestled between your legs. You look at him in disbelief almost, wincing when he removes his cock out of you, collapsing on the bed beside.

“Another one already?” You breath, running a hand over your sweaty forehead.

He softly smiles, leaning over to kiss your shoulder, his hand moving to lightly rub a few circles to your clit, building your anticipation again. “Give me a few minutes, sweetheart, I’m not done with you just yet.”

T : Toys.

He has no problem incorporating toys into the bedroom. Neither of you need them, but they do add some spice to your sex life. John isn’t too much of a tech guy, but he did spend hours on his laptop searching up the best vibrators to try out for you. John gets off seeing you get off, and pleasing you. Sometimes, he’ll use the vibrator on you before sex, allowing you to delve into oblivion. On nights when he’s away, he loves when you send him pictures of you using it on yourself; his cock wheezes to the sight of your dripping cunt at the mercy of a vibrator, knowing it makes you feel no where near as good as he does when he’s home. John is willing to try out more toys, and he’s open to the idea of you buying some for him as well. You mentioned a vibrating cock ring to him; (not that he needs it for the extra support), but more for the pleasure the vibrations could give to your sensitive nub and his balls when he’s fucking you. There’s a lot you want to explore with John, you want to find out what he’s into, what he may be fond of. He’s a tricky man to get a feel of since he’s always so focused on you.

U : Unfair.

“John…John please..” You wail, feeling him sink just his tip into you, before pulling back out, teasing. He smirks slightly, placing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, teasing to not even give you a proper kiss when all you want is for him to fuck you senseless. His fingers rub small circles to your clit, eliciting deep moans, yet he makes sure to keep them slow, light, enough to let you feel him on you, but not enough to let you feel relief.

You love edging each other, love building up each other’s orgasm to maximum potential. When you’re on top, you’ll halt movement, your hands planted to his chest as his palms hold your hips tight. He’s always panting under you, biting his lip with breathy moans falling as you start to move again.

He’ll tease you when he’s going down on you as well, leaving kisses to the insides of your thighs, close to your heat. You totally get him back, though, the way you wear very revealing shorts around the house the next day, making sure to bend over a little further when you reach down to pick a towel off the floor.

V : Volume. (Is he loud?)

You both can be loud, depending on the type of sex. If it’s just a quickie before bed, you both tend to stay a little quieter, reverting to small whispers of praise, soft, gentle moans into each other’s necks and ears. John’s voice is smooth, buttery, fine as velvet when he’s trying to be quiet, it makes your pussy quite literally tremble knowing you’re the reason those delicious, delightful sounds are leaving his lips.

When you’re having a proper, longer session of sex however, you both tend to get slightly louder than you mean to. You live alone together, in a reserved neighbourhood. John’s grunts and groans can get excessive when you clench around him, your screams of his name flood the bedroom walls when he’s expertly working you. Sometimes, with John, its far too difficult to hold back your cries and sobs, his balls slapping your core to his demanding pace, his breath tantalizing on your skin. Perfectly, he hits your sensitive nerve endings each time, your eyes fill with tears at how well he’s fucking you, loud gasps to each buck of his hips.

W : Wildcard. (Random headcanon).

John has needs – he has to masturbate when he’s away from you, but only to the thought of you, and the nudes you send him. They’re marvellous, but he wants more. John wants to record you having sex at least once for when he’s away. He misses you dearly, although the lonesome comfort of his stocky palm, coated with the blend of shea hand cream he carries with him show no comparison to your soaking cunt. A video of you unravelling for him will definitely elevate his lonely nights spent away from you in the hotel walls. He would never do it without your consent, so he’s made a mental note to ask you next time you get intimate. Phone sex with you is nice, and it gets home going so well. But the thought of the real deal, a video in which your moans can be heard, your beautiful pussy on display for him, would be divine.

X : Xray. (What’s going on in the pants)

John has a very generous load to offer. His cock is quite literally- fucking gorgeous. When you first saw it, your breath hitched. He’s above average, makes you swallow in anticipation when he’s fully erect for you. He has the perfect amount of girth, a few striking veins running down his shaft, and a very slight curve. His tip shows a blushy, rosy shade of dusty pink, and you can’t help but elicit a moan when droplets of his gleaming pre cum glide down the length of his cock, almost as if a delicacy made just for you to devour. John’s cock is the only to ever had made you feel completely full, completely fulfilled. Struck gold? Definitely.

In more ways than just one.

Y : Yearning.

John has a pretty high sex drive. He’ll never deny you, that’s for sure. You almost never deny him either, whether it’s when he’s tossing and turning in the middle of the night and you offer him a quick session to calm his nerves, or whether it’s in the middle of the day, when he craves to feel your body close. John would like to have sex every single day of the week, but he knows that’s not always what you want, and he respects that. You settle for 4-5 times a week, right in the middle so his needs are taken care of. Sometimes, when you’re not in the mood for sex, you’ll give him a blowjob because you want him to feel good.

That’s your man, and you know how to take care of him.

Although he would like to have sex everyday, he doesn’t ever resort to masturbating unless he’s away. If you’re there, he wants it from you, or not at all. He’d rather wait for you than whip one out alone, without the feel of your body to compliment it.

Z : Zzzz. (How quickly he falls asleep after).

John and you both need a good round of cuddling, just holding each other after sex to doze off. A good cuddle session is part of sex for you; it’s part of the aftercare, part of the intimacy. Value is so important in a relationship, and holding each other, even if it’s just him holding onto your hand on his chest as you lie in comfortable silence, coming down from your highs; it all allows you both to feel valued, appreciated. You both share a little bit of pillow talk, and get cleaned up before you can actually fall asleep. John is a well organized, clean man. He helps you wipe down, change, shower, whatever you need to do before you both retire to bed, your skin freshly peppered with the scent of the eucalyptus shower gel you always buy. He can fall asleep pretty quickly after that, nice and relaxed, gratified and content with the love of his life tucked securely in his arms. He loves it when you hold him and use his chest as a pillow, takes him out like a light to know you’re safe there with him. The clothes you ripped off each other before sex are still scattered on the floor.

“John?” You quietly whisper, arms wrapped around his core, his biceps holding you close to his chest. He stirs slightly, half dozed off already.

“Hmm?” He murmurs, ever so slightly, eyes closed with his heartbeat steady against your ear.

Giggling, you softly plant a gentle kiss to his chest, allowing your head back to rest on him. “Goodnight, I love you.” You whisper into the quiet of the night, sure he’d already drifted to dreamland. He doesn’t reply, until a few seconds later, his deep voice drifting,

in and out of consciousness.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

Taglist Posted Seperatly (Ask to be added or removed!)

[free-pool-trash]

folklore - isaac lahey {6/?}

part 6 (again) 😖 ***the timeline/sequence of events is messed up but it doesn’t matter too much it’s just to move the story along faster*** everything about this is a hot mess, i hope you love it ;)

(sorry about this i rlly dont know wtf happened it just spazzed out, sorry yall)

word count: 4k

warnings: blood, tension, kissing ;), mentions of abuse, swearing

taglist: @makeusfreefromthisfandom​, @cece-lives-here​, @chocolate-raspberries​, @belsandthings​, @dancing-tacos-23​, @truly-dionysus​, @britty443​, @tanyaherondale​, @furiouspockettoad​, @yunsh-17​, @random-thoughts-003​, @gloomybrieyxb​, @futuristicslimemongerbanana​, @linkpk88​, @big-galaxy-chaos​, @im-a-stranger-thing​, @riaisnotcool​, @its-evita-here​, @pad-foots​, @sweetpeabellamyblakedracomalfoy​, @bookswillfindyouaway​, @what-the-hap-is-fuckening​, @awkwardnesshabitat​, @pieces-by-me​, @wreny24​ let me know if you’d like to be added <3

MASTERLIST

To say Isaac Lahey looked like he’d been beaten to a pulp would have been a colossal understatement. The boy practically limped into school the day after his father demonstrated his dissatisfaction for his youngest son after attending his parent teacher meeting.

It’d been a long night of taking punches, kicks and insults that would plague Isaac’s mind for weeks to come. His voice was raw from screaming to be released from the freezer he’d been locked in after his father grew bored of inflicting pain physically. Deciding psychological pain was just as good as physical pain, his father left him to think about his inferiority for an entire night, only letting him out an hour before he was due to start school.

His lip still dripped scarlet as he walked the halls, both eyes black and ever so slightly swollen and so very tired looking. His steps were taken shakily. It didn’t take him long to notice you standing by his locker, waiting for him as usual. Usually when his eyes flickered over you his body would fill with relief. But after remembering how upset you’d been in your car the day before he found his relief being replaced by guilt and dread.

Isaac ducked his head, he did this purely to avoid your eyes. He still made his way towards you nonetheless.

The first thing to hit you was the scent of blood. Fresh and warm and right from the source, you could tell- you weren’t sure how you could tell but you just knew. You lifted your eyes from the floor. You wished you hadn’t when your eyes landed on Isaac, hobbling towards you with blood dripping down his split bottom lip.

The second thing to hit you, though, was the undeniable feeling of guilt that hit you when Isaac refused to meet your gaze.

As soon as his slow and sluggish steps carried him to you your hands flew to his cheeks, gentle but firm, you cupped them and tried your very hardest to ignore how much you wanted to run your tongue along his bleeding lip. It was proving a lot harder than you would have ever thought it would, in all honesty.

You forced your eyes to stay locked on his, your jaw tight and teeth clenched, your own anger overpowering Isaac’s guilt. “What did he do to you?” You asked him softly, brushing your thumbs along his cheekbones with a feather like touch. The last thing you wanted to do was put him in any more pain than he was already in.

“I may have a C minus in more than just chem.” Isaac explained flatly. Despite the slight ache your hands caused him he couldn’t stop himself from melting into you, loving your warmth as opposed to the cold of the basement freezer. 

At his confession you found yourself unable to hold yourself back any longer. You let out a sigh and Isaac fixed you with a confused gaze as he watched your brows furrow in determination. “Come with me.” 

Isaac followed behind you as you led him towards the basement of the school, nobody ever went down there and your first class, with Isaac, happened to be a free period. It wasn’t until you were standing across from each other again in the narrow dark hallway of the basement that Isaac spoke up in question, “Did you bring me down here to kill me or…”

You let out a shaky sigh, confidence waning as you second guessed yourself. Was this a good idea? Absolutely not. Would it make him feel better, however? Incredibly so, yes.

Deciding you’d probably stretched the whole “keep Isaac out of it” thing as far as you could, there was no point keeping it from him any longer- he was getting hurt whether he knew about the supernatural or not. 

“I’m about to tell you something completely bizarre and I need you to, one, please believe me and don’t freak out and, two, don’t be mad at me for not telling you sooner.” Isaac’s eyebrow rose in concern, “Yeah- yeah sure, ok- what is it?” His voice was filled with worry as were his eyes, that still sparkled despite the dark purple colouring surrounding them paired with the dim lightening of the windowless basement.

“Remember that thing that bit me?” You asked and he nodded mutely, “well, it sort of… gave me something.”

Isaac gasped, “Rabies?” His question was so positively drenched with genuine concern that you had to laugh, grabbing his hand and shaking your head softly. 

“No, I don’t have rabies.” You laughed again, his relieved sigh bouncing off the walls.

“Thank God.”

“It’s probably best if I just show you.” You told him, smiling softly and nodding your head in resolve. You were doing this.

“Show me wha-... holy shit.” Isaac gasped yet again, mouth agape and eyes wide as he stared at your, now slightly changed face, your eyes were a glowing purple and you had fangs? Something in the back of his head told him that, really, he should be afraid. But he wasn’t. Not even in the slightest. He thought the look suited you quite frankly. The way the purple glow of your eyes reflected against your complexion in the dim lighting was, in all honesty, completely mesmerising.

“I’m a vampire.” You clarified, although it was perfectly obvious. Isaac only nodded his head numbly, still trying to comprehend what he was looking at.

When he didn’t say anything after a solid ten seconds you spoke yet again, “I’m telling you because, I hate seeing you hurt…” Your voice trailed off, you weren’t exactly sure what to say in the moment.

It was just then that Isaac spoke up, a sad lilt in his voice while he squeezed your hand, “Come on, (N/n). Don’t do this to yourself, you know there’s nothing you can do-“ You cut him off, voice a mix of anxiety and excitement, “But Isaac! I can! I can do something about it! Okay? Look- I’ve got all these new vampire abilities and one of them…” You paused to take a breath, eyes flying around his face frantically before you finally locked your gaze with his. 

Swallowing the lump on your throat you finished, “I can take your pain away. And physically heal you- but that might not be such a good idea. Your dad would know something was up.”

One thing you loved about Isaac was that he always took your word for things. He never ever doubted you and always believed you when you told him something. Even in a situation like this< he never asked questions< he simply trusted you.

“Will taking my pain away hurt you? Because if it will then absolutely not, I’ll keep it to myself I don’t want you getting hurt because of-“ Isaac fretted anxiously, only stopping when your hands returned to their previous spot on his cheeks, smiling sweetly, “It won’t hurt at all. It’s actually quite enjoyable.”

“How do you do it?” He asked tentatively, hands moving to rest on your waist, an action that wasn’t entirely uncommon but was usually saved for the most intimate of shared moments, which, you supposed, this was.

Nervously you chewed on the inside of your cheek before telling him, “Well, when I feed on someone, its got some kind of euphoric effect- kinda like a drug high or something.” 

Isaac, yet again, nodded his head. “Okay. Go for it.” He told you surely, though hints of anxiety still lingered in his voice. 

You nodded slowly in response. Your hands slipped from his cheeks, the left was now tangled in his curls and tilting his head gently to the side to expose his, already bruised, neck. The other grabbed ahold of his shoulder, bringing him down so that you were level with his neck.

Isaac’s eyes stayed glued to you while you walked him carefully backwards until his back met the wall of the basement, your eyes were still glowing and it was when you nervously peered up at him through your lashes that he realised; he’d do anything you ever asked him to.

“This might sting a bit. Tell me if you start to feel dizzy.” You warned before, hesitantly, moving your fangs towards his neck. His grip on your waist tightening as you bit into him, as gently as you could. He let out a short hiss of pain before you felt him relax against you, his eyes closed and his jaw fell slack the second his blood hit your tongue.

His blood was an entirely new experience. It tasted like, you didn’t actually know, but it was like nothing you’d ever consumed before. If you thought Stiles’ blood was good, Isaac’s was on another level. Maybe all your pinning for him made him taste better to you? You didn’t know.

A satisfied sound unconsciously left your mouth at the flavour while your hand tightened in his hair, but in your close proximity you picked up something more than just the taste of his blood. It felt like… lust? 

The feeling was backed up by the throaty groan falling from Isaac’s mouth, his hands not only tightening on your waist but pulling you closer to his body. Now chest to chest as your lips moved on his neck.

True to your word, Isaac already forgot about the ache in his body- his mind now consumed by the feeling of you, the girl he was not so secretly in love with, with your lips and tongue situated on his neck. And if that alone wasn’t enough to steer his mind away from his pain, the feeling the bite gave to him definitely did the trick.

It was like morphine running straight through his veins. He felt not only like he’d never been hurt to begin with but as well as that, and maybe more importantly, his mind was completely at peace- his thoughts purely consumed by you.

The way you looked when you removed your mouth from his neck was bordering on ethereal, your bodies remained pressed against each other and for a few moments you simply stared at each other with half lidded eyes. Isaac’s breath came out in pants as he stared down at you, your own eyes captivated by the dried blood on his lower lip. Noticing this, and with very little composure what with his current blissed out state, Isaac spoke, “You can take it- the blood. If you want it.”

You weren’t sure at what point it had happened but the lust you felt earlier had magnified tenfold, although you were sure it didn’t all belong to Isaac- you felt it too. He stared at your lips the way you’d been starring at his only seconds ago, did he want you to kiss him? It seemed like it. Did you want to kiss him. Absolutely. A thousand times over.

Again you found yourself wondering; was this a good idea? And, again, you found yourself thinking that, no, it probably wasn’t the best idea. 

Your inhibitions were lowered significantly since you fed, feeding on Stiles’ had been enjoyable but feeding on Isaac, though- that had been intoxicating. Perfectly content to blame what you were about to do on your intoxication if it came back to bite you in the ass, you moved your hands back to their favourite spot cupping Isaac’s cheeks.

Slowly, you pulled him back down to your level, the boy in your grasp complying quite happily, seemingly entranced by your face. Butterflies were erupting violently in your stomach at the way his blue eyes fluttered over your face appreciatively as if admiring art and the way his hands held you to him so tenderly, like he was afraid to hurt you despite knowing you were a supernatural entity. 

What you’d give for him to gaze at you like that, so openly and surely, all the time. 

Without giving it any further thought you gave into what you’d been craving for the longest time and pressed your lips against his, the action feeling more intoxicating than the blood itself. 

Isaac’s hands mirrored yours, sliding up your side before resting against your cheeks. 

His lips moved furiously against yours. The many bruises and injuries that littered his body were long forgotten as he tasted you against his lips, finally.

Your breath came out in pants as you pulled away, your forehead resting against Isaac’s and your chests still pressed against each other. 

It was only when you studied his face that you’d realised you never even got the blood from his split lower lip. What made you feel better though, was the fact that he’d kissed you as passionately as you’d kissed him and his hands that still cupped your cheeks.

“That definitely made me feel better.” Isaac breathed out against your lips, a dopey smile forming on his own.

An airy laugh left your throat at his comment, all your fears of the kiss causing havoc evaporated from your mind with the sound of his voice.

“On a scale of one to ten how drunk do you feel right now?” You asked him teasingly, noticing his eyes were glazed over and his almost static feeling happiness was popping in your chest, almost like fireworks.

Isaac only shrugged, his happiness feeling as though it couldn’t ever be dampened after the kiss he’d just shared with you. “Tipsy at best.” He answered, and true enough you noticed he’d regained his composure a lot faster than Stiles had done the first time you fed on him. Kisses did have a tendency to be sobering, you supposed. 

A silence fell over the pair of you after that. Isaac’s eyes returned their gaze to your lips yet again and you would’ve had to be blind not to notice. By this point your eyes had returned to their usual colour and your fangs reverted back into their dormant form of your regular canines, he was simply looking at you now, just you, no supernatural frills to be seen. But as always, you just being you was enough for him. 

“Would our friendship be destroyed if I told you I really want to kiss you again?” Before you could even answer, he was already dipping his lips back to yours. Not that you minded. 

This time, his lips moved slowly and gently, his thumbs rubbing against your cheekbones before they slipped back down to grasp your waist. As your lips, yet again, meshed perfectly with his, that feeling came over your chest again. That light, fluffy feeling he not only gave you but also radiated. It was only when he pulled away for the second time that you put your finger on exactly what that feeling was- love.

With the realisation- the confirmation that the love you felt towards Isaac was mutual you couldn’t stop the wide smile that formed on your lips, you chased his lips once more after he’d pulled away and tried to keep your giggles quiet when he met you halfway with just as much enthusiasm and his smile just as wide.

It was probably a stupid question but you asked it anyway, “So… you’re not mad that I didn’t tell you about the whole vampire thing?” Isaac shook his head, “I know now. I get why you didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted to.” You told him, a nervous smile taking over your lips as you continue, “But I was kinda warned against it.” He nodded his head, although he was confused, who would’ve even warned you? Were there more supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills that he didn’t know about?

His thoughts didn’t wander too far as your soft voice cut them off, “I’m glad you know now. I missed ranting to you.” 

The boy, still holding your waist, let out a sigh, “I’m glad you told me, too. I knew something was wrong but I didn’t know what. You had me worried.” He told you, laughing airily towards the end.

When he saw the look of guilt beginning to form on your face he immediately changed the course of the conversation. “While we’re confessing stuff…” he began, shy Isaac returning as his eyes fluttered anywhere but your eyes. “We’ve been best friends for a while, and um-  I’ve wanted to tell you for a while- years… yeah for years… but um-“ you couldn’t help but smile as he rambled, you thought you had a clue where he was going. “Isaac.” You cut him off softly, smile never faltering when you finally dropped your palms from his cheeks, placing them over his that were still on your waist and giving them a reassuring squeeze. 

“Take a breath.” You instructed with a laugh. Taking your advice Isaac took a deep breath, manoeuvring his hands to hold yours, your intertwined hands hanging between the both of you now.

“I like you- love you! I love you. A lot. In a more than best friends way. And I have for a… twelve, yeah, no I’ve loved you since we were twelve. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same! I just thought since we kissed just now that maybe you-“ He was rambling again, as he tended to do when he was nervous and in the moment you couldn’t think of any other way to shut him up than to plant your lips against his. Effectively cutting him off as you did so. 

To be perfectly honest, you could definitely get used to kissing him like this all of the time. When you removed your lips from his, for what felt like the millionth time, Isaac’s eyes remained shut. With the absence of blue it really hit you how beaten up he really was, his eyes were black and purple as well as swollen terribly. When you took him in, the words fell from your lips before you could think of some flowery way to present them, “I love you too.”

A sigh of relief left his mouth and he finally found the courage to open his eyes again. The moment was ruined by the class bell ringing in the distance, signifying that your free period was now over and you’d both need to be getting to class.

The pair of you headed off together with wide smiles on your faces that didn’t seem to die down throughout the rest of the day. At the end of the school day, he’d walked you to your car and gave you a kiss goodbye before walking away looking the most pleased you’d ever seen him.

To put it simply, you were on cloud nine. As soon as you entered your kitchen once you got home from school, though, you found yourself crashing straight back down to earth.

Sitting in front of you in all his glory was Derek Hale, it didn’t excite you to see he didn’t look even remotely like he was about to apologise for being a shitty, unloyal pack member, “What do you want?” You snapped, tossing your school bag by his feet rather aggressively for no particular reason. It felt kind of nice to mildly inconvenience him.

“You need to leave.” Was all he said and you rolled your eyes, crossed your arms over your chest and stared at him with a raised eyebrow, “May I remind you, Derek, you don’t fucking live here. So maybe you need to leave.” You snapped, venom seeping from your tone but it didn’t seem to phase him, he knew how things worked with you. You were always hard to lose but once you were gone you were even harder to get back. 

“Beacon Hills, (Y/n). You need to leave Beacon Hills.” He clarified for you, still remaining stoic. “What? Why?” You wanted a good reason. A really good reason. You didn’t just confess your love to your best friend of six years to have Derek swan back into your business and tell you had to leave town for no good reason.

“If I tell you, you won’t leave.” Was he serious? He couldn’t give you a reason to leave but you could think of about ten reasons to stay, he obviously wasn’t one of them at the minute.

“You’re full of shit.” You stated, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Look I know you don’t exactly like me right now, kid. But for the first time since you turned I’m actually trying to look out for you, alright?” His stoic facade had dropped now, he was practically begging. 

You clenched your jaw, you didn’t want to be difficult but it was hard when the man in front of you wasn’t exactly a smooth operator himself. “If you want me to trust you tell me why.”

“We know who the Alpha is. He’s going to be coming for you next and we need to get you as far away from here as we can before he gets to you.” Derek finally explained, his anxiety bouncy from every cell in his body right into your chest. “Who is it?” You wondered, who could it have been that would make you want to stay? It wasn’t Isaac, it could’ve been Scott but that wasn’t likely seeing as he was looking for the alpha too. It definitely wasn’t Stiles. 

Derek didn’t answer this question. “Your dad is in a meeting with Chris Argent right now. His sister, Kate, was onto you, wants to put your fangs on a necklace. Your dad’s keeping them distracted long enough for me to get you out. So, we need to go. Your stuff is already in my car.” He rushed out grabbing your forearm with a grip you knew you couldn’t wriggle out of. (Not that you didn’t try.)

The wolf had to practically wrestle you into the passenger seat, ignoring all of your colourful threats of what you’d do to his precious car once you got free of his hold as he strapped you in.

Once he got into the driver’s seat, he immediately began to drive, way over the streets speed limit, and it wasn’t until you passed the “Visit Again Soon!” Beacon Hills sign that you piped up.

“Ok, we’re officially out of town. Now tell me what the hell is going on.” You demanded, the tension between you and Derek growing with every mile he drove.

Letting out a deep sigh he finally answered, “The Alpha? It’s Peter.”

The gasp that left you was sharp and Derek knew you’d handle this information with as much disbelief as he had.

Peter couldn’t have been the alpha. The alpha killed Laura Hale- tore her apart. The alpha bit Scott and you, Scott had told you he’d even punched his fist through Derek’s chest and chased him, Stiles, Alison, Jackson and Lydia around the school a few nights ago. Peter wouldn’t have done all of those things… The Peter you knew wouldn’t do all of of those things.

The the more you thought about it the more it began to add up in your mind. The voice, the one you’d heard that night in the hospital, so full of clarity and intention, the voice that consistently rattled your brain with the words of “Don’t let it kill you.” That voice, it belonged to Peter.

“Stiles and I found out last night. He said he had plans for you, he said he wanted the both of his by his side- in his pack. We knew if he got to you right now you’d join him. Even if it was just to spite me.” He explained softly, his brotherly tone making an appearance for the first time in weeks. 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you stared at Derek in confusion, “What makes you think I would’ve gone with him.” You asked, a tiny bit offended by his statement although you had a feeling he was onto something, even if you weren’t ready to admit it to yourself.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you. I’ve been thinking about what you said last night before you ran off and you’re right. I forgot about you when you needed me the most and I’m sorry for that. We both know you and Peter always had a stronger bond than the rest of us. Hating me would make him look better” He told you, not receiving an answer as he watched you stare emptily out the car window, watching the sun as it set.

“You were always so independent growing up, you did things yourself and you loved it. I didn’t know what to make of you becoming a vampire, to be honest I was hoping you’d become a wolf.” Letting out a heavy sigh Derek finished his little speech, “I didn’t know how to help you. It made me feel useless so I focused all of my time on helping Scott. I know it hasn’t been easy for you but where you’re going is going to be really good for you.” 

“And where exactly are you taking me.” You asked suspiciously. “Before you freak out, you’re only staying there until we stop whatever Peter is planning. Two weeks tops.” He tried to reason but it only served to panic you further, “Derek, where are you taking me.”

“I’m dropping you off at the airport and your getting on the next flight to Virginia.” Your eyes widened as you let out a small screech, “Virginia? That’s like a five hour flight! Why Virginia? And for two week? What about the Winter formal?” You rambled, voice high pitched with panic.

Derek shot you a sympathetic look before returning his attention to the highway, “I’ve got a few friends there. One of them is kind of a vampire expert. Says he knows some people that might be able to help train you.” The wolf explained.

Derek had friends? That was truly shocking.

“Who’s your friend?” You asked curiously. 

“His name’s Alaric Saltzman. He’s picking you up at the airport when you land.” 

“So I’m staying with some man I’ve never even met? Cool. Really not worrying at all, Derek. And my parents are on board with this little plan?” You inquired uneasily.

Derek let out a snigger at this, “Seeing as your mother was the one to suggest him, yes. Your dad isn’t so keen on the idea.”

He was chuckling like a little kid and you felt as though you were missing something, “Why isn’t he too keen on it?” 

His laugh came out full voice now as he looked at you with a mischievous grin, “Because before he and your mother got together, she was dating Ric.” 

Your eyes widened and your jaw almost hit the floor, “So your shipping me off to my mother's ex to keep me away from my alpha werewolf uncle? You guys are the fucking worst.”