#south park smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dreamsofbroflovski · 3 months ago

Text

Leopold "Butters" Stotch x Reader - sweet escape

Also available on ao3!

Summary: When you and your darling boyfriend break up, Eric Cartman's inner cupid decides to make sure you two get back together... By fucking your way right out of that argument.

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (EVERYONE INVOLVED IS ABOVE THE AGE OF CONSENT), Explicit Language, Cisgender female Reader, Aphrodisiacs, Nipple Play, Nipple Orgasm, Penis In Vagina Sex, Bathroom Sex, Creampie

A/N: I've had this in my Docs for almost 2 months now, and never got to properly finish it. Then yesterday I went berserk and stayed until 4am writing and cleaning up the draft so I could have it up by today.

We have an utter drought of Butters x Reader smut in this fandom, so I hope I did our sweet guy justice.

Obligatory "English is not my first language, if anything sounds like total nonsense it probably is so please let me know" This is also my first fic after whole years without writing anything creative and my first smut work in general and IDK how to feel about it

It was your average Monday morning in Park County. People from all walks of life had frowns on their faces as they made their way to school or work, missing the protection of their warm blankets and the peacefulness of a deep sleep. In your high school, most of the students hung about in the hallways as they waited for classes to start, and the cliques standing around together provided some warmth for its members, both emotionally and physically.

At the end of one of the corridors, in one of the staircases, hung out a particular group of young men, lazing around and chatting about their weekend like everyone else. Some of them stood, leaning on the wall or the handrail, while others sat on the steps, basically creating a barricade against anyone who wanted to go up or down the stairs - not that many people tried, anyway; over the course of their high school days all the way to the current senior year, the South Park boys had kind of made that particular part of the stairs their hangout spot, and the other students really just preferred to take any necessary detours than have to deal with the certified biggest assholes in the whole school.

As they began to engage in yet another heated debate over some useless topic, almost none of them saw a certain blonde man arrive. This was not abnormal - most people were never paying attention to Butters, unless they needed him for a favor. What was abnormal, however, was the expression he carried. Butters was a normally friendly and peaceful person, always with a smile on his face even in the most inhospitable of days; to see him like he was now, walking with heavy steps like a soldier, his face down and gaze fixed on his own feet, it didn’t take much from anyone to see that he was not doing well.

“Hey there, fellas.” He spoke in an unusually low voice, not looking up for even a second to acknowledge his peers. Almost all the other boys responded with a quiet Hey or a quick movement of the head, but he didn’t acknowledge either of those greetings, too engulfed in his own feelings.

“Oh, hey, Butters, there you are.” Cartman said, looking briefly at his direction but almost seeing past him, clearly not realizing what was amiss - Eric couldn’t care about someone else’s feelings to save his life. “Thank God you’re here, I have to talk to you about something later and it’s really important, if you didn’t show up it would’ve really fucked me over. You’re really gonna have to make up to me later for that. We’ll go over what you can do during lunch, so tell your bitch to - hey, where’s your bitch, anyway?”

“I DON’T KNOW, I DON’T CARE, AND IF ANY OF YOU DO THEN YOU CAN GO FUCK YOURSELVES!” was Butters’ immediate answer, in such a thundering angry tone that it made the whole group flinch in fear. This was the first moment he actually looked at his so-called friends that Monday, and his face was one of pure fury. “And if YOU-” he turned in his heels to face Cartman, pointing a finger at his face, “-think I’m going to be a part of whatever fucking evil deeds you have planned right now, then you better sit that fat ass of yours down, because I ain’t helping you anymore, got it?” He turned again to glare at the rest of the guys, who all had wide eyes. “Or any of you bitches either! I’m done with you jerks! DONE!”

“Dude, dude, calm down, it’s okay-” Kyle was the one to first try and appease the situation, seeing as everyone else was too afraid to make a movement. He tried to reach an arm out to Butters, but it was promptly slapped out of his reach by the latter.

“IT’S NOT FUCKING OKAY! Everyone hates you, y’all fucking hate each other, and then you sit around here and pretend to be best friends! Oh, but y’all won’t say anything because if you do y’all gon’ have to hang around with fucking Kip Drordy ‘till graduation! And I’ll tell you what else-”

He eventually became engulfed by his own rage, breathing rapidly as he looked around for anything else he could say his truth about.

“Easy there, buddy. Look, I haven’t had breakfast yet, how about you and I go pick up a snack in one of the vending machines?” Kenny tapped on Butters’ shoulder, gesturing in the direction of the canteen.

“I don’t want no goddamn snack!” Butters yelled right in Kenny’s ear, but the latter didn’t even acknowledge the rudeness, being used to worse back at his house.

“Yes, you do. Now let’s go.”

The whole staircase group watched in silence as Kenny dragged Butters far away, and then all faces turned to Cartman.

“Great job there, fatass.” Kyle snarled, rolling his eyes.

“Fuck you, Kyle! What the hell did I do now?” Cartman raised his voice, pointing a finger in Kyle’s face, then signaling with his other hand towards the corridor through which Butters had just left. “He’s the one that started acting like a chick on her period! That’s got nothing to do with me!”

“You provoked him, dude! You know he’s sensitive about that shit these days!”

“Butters is always sensitive, dude! What is his problem NOW?”

The other boys looked at each other, unsure if Cartman’s behavior was legitimate. “You really don’t know what you did?” Kyle asked, almost a surprised tone in his voice, his eyebrows arched.

“No! If I’m going to be blamed for shit, at least tell me what it is!” Eric huffed, tired of the back-and-forth.

Kyle took a deep breath. “Butters and (Y/N) broke up this weekend.”

The news had Cartman legitimately shocked. “Really? Why didn’t he tell me?”

“But he did. He told all of us.” Stan picked up his phone and turned the screen towards Cartman, with the messages app open, and started scrolling up quickly with his free hand, which made it impossible for the other to be even able to read anything. “It’s all over the group chat, dude.”

“Oh, right. I didn’t read that shit, I was rushing the battle pass for the new Fortnite season.” Cartman waved his hand in dismissal and Stan put his phone back in his pocket.

“Then you can’t complain about not being informed of stuff as soon as it happens.”

“Alright, alright, my bad. But man, hope they get back together.”

Eric wasn’t really feeling bad about causing Butters to snap or worried about your romance out of care for his friend. More so, like everything else in his life, the fatass wanted you to sort your issues because that would bring him personal benefit. He needed your lover for something in the coming days, a very important plan he had been cooking, and that breakup could very well ruin it all.

When you and Butters first got together, Cartman thought this was the death of his most useful pawn, maybe he’d even have to spy on your relationship to make sure you wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience. To his surprise, the opposite turned out to be true - the already affable young man became even more docile, if that was even possible. He was also willing to do damn near anything if it meant your happiness, so the only thing Cartman ever had to do to get his help was make up some bullshit story about how that scheme was actually going to be great for your relationship and how you’d be so glad if Butters just assisted him with this one thing (despite said thing having nothing to do with you at all, and you normally not being aware of the stuff until it happened). Since the blonde was mad at you, that meant the usual strategies wouldn’t stick.

Whatever it was that was creating this rift between you two, it had to end fast.

“But why the hell did they break up, anyway?” Eric continued, hoping to gather more information that he could use to reverse the situation.

“You’d know if you read the group chat!”, three or four of the guys answered in unison.

“Hell, I don’t read the group chat either and even I know what happened”, said Craig. He wasn’t usually one to engage in his colleagues’ dumb fighting, so, since the most aloof person on Earth had an opinion on the subject, Cartman knew he’d been missing out.

“You don’t read the group chat?!” Tweek yelped, looking at Craig with a panicked expression on his face - even more panicked than the one he had at any given time. “ACK!- You gotta read it, babe! What if one of us gets injured, dies, and you never find out because you didn’t read the group chat? What if EVERYONE dies and our last wishes are all in the group chat? UGH!”

He then seemingly got really scared of this hypothetical situation he himself created, proceeding to hyperventilate and tremble on the spot.

“I don’t read them because you do, babe. Then you tell me everything. Your texts are the only ones I ever need to read.”

Craig patted Tweek’s hair a few times and kissed him on the forehead after speaking, which seemed to calm down the anxious male, who let out a contented sigh as his lungs seemed to finally allow him to breathe properly again. Everyone else around rolled their eyes at this, and Jimmy, out of the couple’s line of sight, stuck his tongue out and made a gesture pointing down his throat as if going to vomit.

“What do you guys do when the girls are mad at you, though?” Kyle asked, looking across the group, focusing on no one in particular - Kyle was the only one there who never managed to be in a long-term relationship (his surreal bad luck with women was extremely good content for jokes around those parts), and wouldn’t have an answer to that particular question.

“I just fuck mine ‘till she’s stupid”, Clyde answered immediately, with a hint of pride in his voice.

“Jesus, Clyde!” Tolkien gawped at the man next to him. Even if they were used to that type of vulgar speech, hearing it early in the morning on a Monday was a less than ideal setup. “Didn’t your mom teach you some manners or something?”

“As a matter of fact, no. She couldn’t.” Clyde looked sad for a moment. “But it’s real, you guys. Whenever Bebe starts bitching my ear off about some nonsense, I just take her somewhere private and give it to her good. By the time we’re done, she can’t even remember what it was she wanted, so it’s a win.”

“She probably just drops the issue because she knows you’re too stupid to hold any kind of deep conversation with”, stated Craig, earning a chuckle from most of the guys.

“Hey! It’s not like you’re any kind of master communicator either, Mr. Don’t-Read-The-Group-Chat!” Clyde retorted, hitting Craig - and Tweek, by association - right where it hurted.

By then, Cartman had tuned out the voices of all the other guys, the gears in his mind turning furiously. Clyde, however much of an idiot he could be, had unironically given him the solution to his most pressing problem.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

Later on, at night, the only lights on in a particular suburban street were those in the kitchen of the Cartman household.

Eric had an old cookbook open in the counter in front of him, alongside an assortment of ingredients and kitchen utensils. The food laid out seemed like your average components for making cupcakes - sugar, eggs, flour, the works -, but, hidden in the middle of it all, camouflaging itself nicely with the vanilla extract in a way that one would really need to pay attention to realize, was a bottle containing an edible aphrodisiac concentrate - the wonders of same-day delivery allowed it to be dropped off at Cartman’s doorstep right that afternoon when he bought it in the morning.

After being done with all the other ingredients in the bowl, following the instructions in the book to a tee - Cartman could fool around with many things, but food was not one of them -, Eric grabbed the tray with the liners he had set and transferred the mixture to them. After that, he picked up that one particular bottle, turning his attention to two specific tins closest to him in the tray, lined with red cases. The bottle had instructions in the back of it - thorough information about its content, advice about the amount that was to be used and general warnings -, but the cook was having none of that, instead dumping the liquid in the two tins until he felt satisfied. In his mind, the more effect it made, the easier for him.

When that was done, he carefully put the tray into the oven and moved on to other parts of the recipe.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

The next day, Eric Cartman was on a mission. Along with the usual backpack, he carried with him to school a small box that smelled faintly of vanilla. The cupcakes had turned out really dang nice, if he could say so himself, and now it was time to pacify a certain pair of lovebirds.

After going to the usual staircase, he was surprised to find that his target, the only one of those assholes he cared to see today, was not around - but it wasn’t without reason; ever since his outburst yesterday, most of the other guys had decided to leave Butters alone with his anger until the issue was resolved, so he got warned to take his sulking elsewhere because it was bringing everyone down. As soon as he found that out, Eric turned on his heels and continued through the hallways, leaving his other colleagues very confused.

Making his way to Butters’ locker, he found the blonde male unaccompanied, mumbling some nonsense as he picked up everything he needed for the upcoming classes.

“Butters! Hey, buddy.” Cartman approached him with a smile.

“Fuck off, Eric!” Butters slammed the door to his locker, startling everyone who dared to be around him.

“Woah, calm down dude, I just wanted to give you this.” Cartman opened the box in his hands and carefully picked one of the cupcakes that had the red liner, handing it to his infuriated friend. “Might make you feel a little better.”

“Oh- huh- Really? Thanks.” Butters seemed genuinely surprised that someone, no matter who, was being nice to him. He picked up the cupcake, taking a bite out of it right away and getting some of the whipped cream on the side of his mouth. “That’s awfully nice of ya. You’re a good person, ya know, Eric. UNLIKE SOMEONE I KNOW!” He said that last part too loud, facing the corridor, as if he expected you to be around so you could hear all about how much he hated you right now. Unfortunately, you were nowhere to be found - instead, he yelled that stuff right while a group of young freshman girls happened to be passing through, laughing about something. They jumped in fear, looking at him like he was a maniac, and quickened their steps to leave as soon as possible while whispering to each other.

“Yeah, yeah, Butters, I know, I’m amazing” Eric replied, absent-mindedly, setting his sights on the end of the corridor, planning his escape route. “Look, man, I gotta go, see you in class or whatever.” Not even saying a word more than the absolutely necessary, he left Butters’ side as well, this time looking for his next objective.

Luckily, he didn’t take too long to find it as well. Right as he turned the corner, you stood next to another set of lockers, next to Red and Wendy. As they talked eagerly about something, though, you kept to your silence, also dwelling on your fight with your ex-boyfriend. You just weren’t trying to make your anger everyone else’s problem was all, but the other girls knew better than to talk about it near you or ask you questions, lest a wrong word also have you snapping.

Cartman beelined to your group, and as you all saw him coming up, the happy chatter immediately turned into silence. “Hello, ladies”, he spoke, earning a raised eyebrow from you and a questionable stare from the two other girls. “Might I interest you in some cupcakes?”

Before anyone could answer, he opened the box in his hands again, carefully picking a cupcake and handing it to every member in your trio, making sure to give you the one with the red wrap. He had made sure to bring extra cupcakes just in case anyone else in the class might see him with them or ask about it, since just giving sweet treats to you and Butters and no one else would look extremely suspicious. The red liners were to separate the laced cupcakes from the others, so he wouldn’t give them to anyone else unknowingly, and among the colorful liners in the others, no one could see you and your ex getting the same color as nothing but a funny coincidence.

As he closed the box, though, you didn’t make a single movement, still staring at him with the baked good in your hands. “No need to thank me, you know. Aren’t you going to eat it?” He asked, tilting his head to the side slightly.

Your eyes narrowed at him. “You put your dick in this thing, didn’t you?” was the question that came out of your mouth. Red let out an “Ewwwww”.

“NO! Why would you think that?” He gasped, his eyes widening in surprise, like it was an absurd thing to even think about - even though it was definitely something he was capable of doing and everyone knew that. “Who do you think I am, some kind of psychopath?”

“Yes.” Your eyes went from him to the cupcake, turning it around in your hand, analyzing it for any obvious signs of tampering. “Farted on it? Put cum on the whipped cream? Is my mom dead on the filling?”

“No, no and NO! Christ, you do something once and all of a sudden it’s all people ever talk about.” He didn’t actually expect you to start asking so many questions - who questions free food? -, so he hadn’t taken the time to build up an actual excuse. “I just had too much batter and made a few extra to bring to class, can’t a guy just be nice anymore?”

You waited a little bit more to see if he’d say anything, if he’d give away any evil plans. Unable to figure out anything, you took the leap of faith, getting the cupcake near your mouth and slowly taking a bite of it. The taste that your tongue could pick up - plain vanilla, whipped cream, a little bit of chocolate from the sprinkles on top - was good, but nothing out of the ordinary. Well, you weren’t expecting Cartman to be some kind of superb baker, and there wasn’t anything that struck you as odd, so you continued eating. Seeing this, the girls around you followed suit with eating theirs, since if you couldn’t find anything wrong with it they probably wouldn’t either.

“See? Pretty good, isn’t it? Anyway, I’m gonna go and give the rest away, bye.” He left before you could interrogate him any further.

“What a weirdo”, stated Red. Before you could dwell on the subject more, Wendy warned both of you about the time, and your trio started making your way to class.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

For the next couple of hours, Butters felt like he was about to die.

His whole body felt hot, to the point where he was building up a slight sweat. During this time of the year and up in the mountains, this concept felt absurd, so when he asked the classmates around him to see if anyone else felt the same way, he was met with confused stares and Kenny putting the back of his hand on Butters’ forehead to check his temperature. He was warm alright, but he could tell this wasn’t a fever because this particular warmth felt more intense in the lower part of his belly, irradiating through his body.

The worst part that came with it, though, was the hard-on. It had popped up about an hour into classes, throbbing like crazy, refusing to go down and urging him to take action. He thought about asking for the hall pass to go to the bathroom and masturbate, but decided against it - because that would mean getting up in front of the whole class and standing there where everyone could see him. At this point, after so long, it all started to feel really painful, so he resorted to just curling onto himself on the chair as best as he could, waiting for the bell to ring so he could leave without drawing too much attention.

All the way across the class, you weren’t faring too well, either - just way better at hiding it. Some strands of your hair were glued to your forehead from the sweat, and you fanned yourself with an old crumbled assignment you found in the bottom of your bag. Under your table where no one could see, you pressed your thighs against each other, rubbing them together as silently as possible to create even the tiniest bit of friction to relieve yourself. As much as you did, it wasn’t nearly enough.

During this whole ordeal, you and Butters would look across the room towards each other regularly - even though you were mad at each other, you were the only person he could think about at a time like this, and vice versa. Every once in a while, your gazes would cross, both with completely panicked stares. Oh what you’d give to know what he was thinking at those times. But then, either you or him would realize the other was staring, and you’d immediately turn to the blackboard and pretend you were staring at it the whole time.

The bell ringing to announce lunchtime couldn’t have come soon enough.

“Alright class, off to lunch, we’ll-” The teacher started her usual speech to send all of you off, but before she could finish, Butters got up from his desk and bolted out of the door in extreme hurry, the speed with which he left being so intense that it knocked his whole desk back as he left and all his belongings scattered to the ground. “- Oh, I guess someone’s really into Taco Tuesday.”

As everyone got up to leave for the canteen, you thought about making a quick detour to the bathroom, maybe you could sneak in a little DJing session in one of the stalls, if you kept your quiet, just enough to get yourself through the rest of the day. Before you could make your way there, however, your girl friends made a whole group around your desk, and you had yourself cornered. If you wanted to leave anywhere, they were absolutely going to follow, so you begrudgingly walked to lunch alongside them, still trying to keep your legs as close to each other as possible. You weren’t sure if you’d even survive the rest of the day at this rate.

You hoped that lunch time and the interactions that came with it could make you distracted unlike the quiet classroom, but you were deprived of that as well. No matter how much you tried to pay attention to the conversations the girls were having around you at the table, the heat in your lower abdomen was too strong to ignore, and your thoughts always went straight back to poundtown at any given chance. More than once you had hands waved and fingers snapped near your face because someone asked you a question and you didn’t realize it.

Also, having scanned around the room with your eyes more than a couple of times like a turret looking for a target, you couldn’t find Butters anywhere in the canteen. You wanted anything from him, even his angry looks at this point were enough to get you going - your mind got busy drawing up all those detailed scenarios where he pinned you to the table, choked you, slapped your ass, pulled your hair, all that while pounding into you violently and calling you filthy names that you never thought you’d hear from his mouth, but that made sense in your anger.

But he wasn’t there, and you had honestly started to worry. The way he left class earlier had you wondering, who was he hanging out with that made him leave in such a hurry? Was he with some other girl? You usually trusted Butters a lot, he worshipped the ground you walked on and never gave you any reason to doubt his loyalty, but now that you had broken up, God knows what kind of shenanigans he could be up to. You certainly didn’t want to imagine the worst; not only because of the implication of betrayal on his end and the idea that he could already be loving someone else so soon, but also because it would mean he was getting a bunch of action while you couldn’t even masturbate.

“Earth to (Y/N)!” You were once again thrown out of your train of thought by Wendy Testaburger, snapping her fingers close to your ear to draw your attention once more.

“Wait, what was it again?”, you answered, looking around with your eyes focused on the peers closest to you. All the other girls at the table were staring back, some with anger in their eyes, some with concern.

“Ugh, nevermind. I’ll text you later, since you’re too good to listen to us today.” She made a dismissing motion with her hand. “The bell’s about to ring. Let’s head back.”

As your whole group got up to leave, you looked around the considerably less crowded cafeteria one more time, hoping to catch your ex lingering around, maybe he just came late for lunch? But unfortunately, he was God knows where still. You were expecting to catch some sights of him in class again, but that was unideal - the setting there was one of silence and concentration, two things that you had no intention of keeping up with.

You didn’t have to wait until then to see him, though. As soon as your group opened the cafeteria doors, he was waiting right on the other side of it, just waiting for you to leave for the hall. Coming up from your side, he pulled on the sleeve of your blouse to draw your attention. “Canitalktoyouplease?” was the sentence that left his mouth, almost too quick and slurred for you to catch.

“Huh?”

You turned to face him and the sight was almost absurd. Butters was usually well kept, his parents weren’t going to let him get out of the house looking less than presentable, but right now he was a whole mess. His hair was all shagged up and he was panting like he had just ran a marathon. The hairs closest to his forehead were wet and some droplets of transparent liquid were around it - could be sweat, the same problem you had, or he might’ve thrown some water on his face to cool himself down (which was also a great idea). He also had his jacket tied to his waist, which was weird considering it wasn’t hot this time of the year and he had been wearing it earlier. Did he spend the whole lunch period running track?

“Can- Can I talk to you, please?” He repeated more slowly this time, gripping your arm tight and making you wince from pain. He wasn’t aware of his own strength right now. Seeing the look on your face, he quickly removed his hand from your arm, but stayed still waiting for your answer.

“She doesn’t wanna talk right now, asshole!” Before you could even say anything, Red yelled out, moving right next to you and locking her arm on yours, to show him that you weren’t alone. “And it’s almost time for class anyway. Fuck off.”

You loved Red McArthur, you really did. That was one of your best friends right there. You didn’t regret at all having told her everything about your fight with Butters, were extremely grateful for the support she had shown you throughout, and you’d surely be glad for her intervention in any other situation. However, she was the one that should be thankful right now - thankful that the knives in the school cafeteria were dull, otherwise you’d have picked up one and stabbed her on the spot. You and your ex were still in a rift, sure, but he was the person you wanted to talk to the most right now and she was denying you that. Even if unknowingly, she was currently being the ultimate cockblocker, or pussy-blocker?

You took a deep breath, something that the other girls probably took as an attempt to dial down your anger at Butters, but that was in reality so you wouldn’t yell at your best friend in front of everyone else. “It’s alright, Red. Go on without me, we won’t take long.” You spoke as calmly as you could, waving them away with your hand and taking your arm away from hers.

As soon as you did so, Butters took you by the wrist and started to power walk in a completely different direction from everyone else, and you had a hard time matching his footsteps while trying not to bump into the groups of students everywhere. You wondered where the hell he was even taking you in such a hurry. For a while, he also seemed confused - he looked towards every door as you went, as if searching for something himself -, but then he made a decision, taking you up two sets of stairs to the third floor of the school building, where he surprised you again by pulling you inside the handicapped restroom.

Unlike the other toilets in the school, the ones reserved for handicapped people were single-user, and since there weren’t many disabled students that were willing to go all the way to the third floor to pee, this one was actually always seen to be in great condition. It was quite spacious to make it easy to maneuver wheelchairs, and also away from many of the actual occupied classrooms. Whatever it was that Butters wanted to discuss with you, he clearly didn’t want anyone else listening.

While he turned to lock the door, you took a few small steps towards the other side of the restroom, standing in the middle of it. You crossed your arms and straightened your posture, trying to look as stiff and unsympathetic as possible. Maybe it was overkill, you had agreed to be here so that already sent the message that you were at least willing to listen, but you didn’t want him to think for a second that he still had your heart on a chokehold like he did.

He took a deep breath as he turned to face you, as if trying to collect his thoughts. “Look, I know you’re mad at me and I’m mad at you and you prolly don’t wanna see me none, but I have no one else to turn to! I need your help!” He blurted out, his arms in front of him like he was ready to push you back if you were to become aggressive.

You frowned. “YOU need MY help? With what?”

“I… I can’t say it, okay?” He was fighting with his thoughts now, knowing that he’d need to speak up, but couldn’t bring himself to. “It’s a heck of a thing and I can’t really explain it and I don’t even know if it can be explained-”

“Stop with the rambling!” You stomped your foot on the ground to alert him. “Either you tell me what this is about or I’m leaving!”

At this moment, he averted his eyes to the ground, avoiding your gaze as if that would conceal his feelings of absolute shame. His hands moved to his waist, untying his jacket and letting it fall to the floor, and the reason why he wasn’t wearing it immediately became clear - he had a noticeable tent in the front of his pants, which the sleeves of the jacket previously hung in front of, covering the view.

As soon as you saw, it took you every little bit of restraint you had not to immediately drop to your knees, free his dick of its confinements and take it in your mouth to suck him dry. You felt your saliva building up, ready to make it as sloppy as possible too. But it would mean a complete lack of self-respect on your part to give in without at least him properly asking for it (you could faintly hear the voice of Red in your head scolding you for that), and you also needed to negotiate your own release, so you just swallowed it all back and waited as he built up the courage to continue talking.

“I tried jacking off in the stalls, watching porn on my phone, heck, even meditating to make it go away… It’s not enough. Nothing is. I NEED YOU.” He grabbed both your wrists with his hands and stared deep into your eyes as he pleaded. “I’ll do anything you want if you help me. If you never wanna see me again, I’ll leave! Forever! Just please help me! I can’t stand this anymore!”

You were far from wanting him to leave forever, not when he begged like this, looking like a hungry lost puppy. The poor man was so overwhelmed by his own arousal that he couldn’t notice the fact that you had taken a few steps towards him to close the distance between you instead of widening it. “Anything?” You murmured, to which he nodded vigorously.

You wriggled your wrists out of his hold and took his hand in yours, guiding it towards your crotch. Your other hand quickly opened the buttons and zipper in your pants, and you pulled it down just a little, just barely halfway down your butt. The wetness between your legs had created a damp spot in your panties, and when you guided Butters’ hand to feel it, the mere brush of his hand over your extremely sensitive area was enough to make your breath hitch even through the fabric. He noticed it immediately, and you saw his eyes widen. “I believe we can help each other.”

He needed no more explanation, maybe due to fear that talking any longer would make you change your mind. So he quickly clashed his mouth onto yours, needy and desperate, wrapping both his arms around you with unusual strength - whatever it is that was driving him mad was also making him act differently than what you’re used to, but you were here for it. As you kissed him back, you felt his usually soft lips to be slightly raw - he had probably been biting them in his anxiety earlier. You didn’t have a second to dwell on it, though, because his tongue swiftly started to brush over yours, an invitation for a dance that you gladly accepted.

Still completely glued to your mouth, Butters started to take small steps, which made you walk backwards, all the way to the other side of the restroom. As your back touched the wall, you felt one of the horizontal metal grab rails under you. You shifted so more of your ass was on top of it, not completely seated (the bar was too narrow for it), but just giving you the extra support in case you needed it. The current position had you firm on your right foot, while the other hovered slightly above ground. Your legs being more open also allowed for Butters to get even closer with his hips, his erection so close to your pussy, separated only by the clothes you both wore.

In one swift motion, Butters hiked up both your blouse and your bra, not even caring about the back clasps, taking everything off and exposing your breasts to the slightly cold air of the restroom as well as to his hungry gaze. The latter wasn’t true for much long, though - he closed his eyes and dove immediately with his mouth to your left nipple, sucking on it and flicking the hardened bud with the tip of his tongue, while his right hand took care of the other breast, massaging it softly. Your nipples were already sensitive by nature, but right now they felt connected to all other nerves in your body, and the stimulation had you whimpering in pleasure.

Your lover started to alternate between one breast and the other with his mouth, giving both the same amount of love and attention - wherever his mouth wasn’t, one of his hands was sure to be, kneading the soft flesh and flicking your peaks slightly. The other hand would then be running around your chest, arms and belly, feeling your soft skin and making up for lost time.

On your end, one of your hands grabbed hard on the metal rail below you, even if that wouldn’t do you much to make you stable. The other ran through Butters’ hair, caressing it - a type of caring behavior that almost felt out of place considering the borderline sinful thoughts you had all day and the situation you found yourself in right now, but that was doing wonders for him, since it made him even more eager to keep loving on your tits.

You could also feel his hips rutting towards plain air near you, as he tried to satiate his throbbing dick even a little bit. Not wanting to deny him any part of this experience when he was treating you so right, you moved one of your legs closer to him, putting your knee between his legs and allowing him to grind on your thigh. He took the offer immediately and responded by growling against your breast and sending some more shivers through your body with the vibrations.

The new stimulus had Butters going wild. He was getting more feral with his treatment of your body - taking your nipples between his fingers, tugging at them and twisting slightly. He started to graze your bud with his teeth, which soon turned into full-on love bites all across your nipples and breasts, the red patches not looking so jarring now that your whole skin was so flushed, but they’d certainly be a nice keepsake later.

When you started to feel that familiar tension in your muscles, the pleasure in your nipples spreading like a flame under your skin, it came as a surprise. You hadn’t ever climaxed from just him working your nipples before - hell, was that even possible? -, and it had sneaked up on you, first feeling like if lightning was gentle, an electric tingle all over your body that sparked like fireworks. Then there was no denying the well-known wave of pleasure that hit you like a tsunami, crashing your whole world around you and making your knees buckle.

Sensing your loss of balance in front of him, Butters quickly let go of your breasts and wrapped his arms around your waist. You wouldn’t have fallen either way, catching yourself in the metal bar behind you with a firm grip, but the consideration was appreciated. As he looked at you with a worried expression and breathing through his mouth anxiously, you felt the walls of your pussy spasming again and more slick dripping in your panties.

“You okay?” His eyes ran through your body, looking for anything that might be wrong, and coming up short. You were absolutely perfect as always.

“More than.” You purred with a smile, giving him a brief kiss. When your mouths parted ways, he tilted his head closer to yours ever so slightly, almost as if chasing your lips with his. Savoring his yearning, you pucker up your lips and make a kissing sound, before tugging at his shirt. “You’re gonna kill me like this though. Just let me feel you already.”

It was his time to smile. “Okay, honey”, he hummed, fixing his posture - and you closed your eyes happily, not having noted how much you missed him calling you pet names until now. He locked mouths with you again and his hands drifted down between you two, pulling further down the hem of your jeans and tracing your slit through the soaked panties, earning from you a sharp moan.

His mouth left yours so he could focus on ridding you of the rest of your outfit, and you held down on the grab rail with your other hand as he lifted your legs – first one, then the other so you could keep stability - to remove your shoes, pants and undergarments completely. You would’ve helped him to make the job quicker, but he seemed to be enjoying the ride now that he had you back in his embrace. Once he had fully taken everything off, he planted a quick kiss on the inside of your lifted thigh, making you shudder.

Slowly and carefully letting go of your leg, Butters took another look at your full body as you stood there naked for him. He wanted to kiss every inch of you, show you as much of his love as possible, but there was also this overpowering lust. Not wanting to spend another second more not touching you, he made quick work of his own pants and boxers while you grabbed onto his shirt and pulled it over his head, throwing it somewhere and allowing his bare chest to touch yours. You were both drenched in sweat at this point, and your naked bodies basically glued together like that, but in the haze none of that mattered.

Butters lifted your left leg up again and held your thigh firmly against his hip with his right arm, while his other hand stroked his shaft slowly as he moved to position it against your entrance. You felt your cunt clench tight as the head of his cock breached your folds, and you were sure he could feel it too, as his breath hitched and his eyes fluttered when you tried to look at them. “Need me that bad, huh?”, he murmured, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “I need you too, honey. Can’t be without you no more.”

With that, he thrusted into you in one swift motion - your surreal wetness making it easy for him to bottom out several inches deep inside of you, the familiar sting you felt as he stretched you being eased by how aroused you already were. The both of you moaned almost in unison at this very welcomed sensation, and in a moment of pseudo-clarity you remembered that you couldn’t be loud like this, a realization that did not seem to grace Butters as he started to push out and back into you with more fully open-mouthed moans. You quickly put one of your hands in the back of his head and push it towards the crook of your neck, where he starts to place quick but strong suckles and bites, not caring for - actually downright wanting - the marks they’d leave.

“Shh, honey” You whispered with the softest of voices, not wanting him to get discouraged, but still needing to give him a reminder. “Can’t get loud in here or they’ll catch us. Just do this for me, okay?”

It was hard for you to heed your own warning, though - with each quick and hard slam of his hips, plus his assault on your neck, you wanted nothing more than to have him hear just how good he was doing. You settle for biting your own lip and keeping your moans in your mouth, which to him seemed to sound even hotter - as he sped up the pace of his thrusts with newfound energy, getting high on the sound of your muffled whimpers and the wet sound of his dick plunging inside your weeping cunt.

The force with which his hips struck your body had you sliding up and down against the wall, your tits bouncing with the movement. His hot breath on your neck made the fine hairs on your whole body stand up, and your back arched, which made him hit that sweet spot inside of you even more perfectly now. Needing to be closer, closer, you let your hands go from the grab rails where they had settled before and wrap your arms around Butters’ neck, relying on him like your last connection to the Earth now. You were glad he had enough strength to hold you with just the lower half of your body pinned to the cold bathroom tiles while still jackhammering into you.

As Butters raised his head from your neck to take a brief look at you through his half-lidded eyes, he used a lot of self-restraint to not cum on the spot. You were a whole mess: disheveled hair, face moist with sweat, a soft reddish tint spread through your whole body, but more prominent on your cheeks, nose, and breasts. You weren’t staring back at him, eyes tight shut as the feeling of his cock inside of you distracted you from using any of your other senses. He wanted to kiss your rosy puffy lips again, but wouldn’t risk disturbing the pretty noises that came out of your throat as you tried so hard to not let out the loud moans you wanted to. “Yeah, that’s it, baby... You’re so… good to me...” He laid his head back on the crook of your neck, but didn’t go back to biting - instead, he inhaled deeply, taking all of your scent in, your faint perfume that he loved mixed with your sweat and… a hint of vanilla? “Lemme make you… feel even better…”

His last sentence slurred into nonsense, but in the blur you barely registered it. You also didn’t even notice how he sneaked his left hand between your bodies, coating his thumb with the splattered juices around your cunt before moving it up and rubbing quick circles in your clit, increasing your pleasure in an almost overwhelming way. You felt a sharp sting in your lip and a metallic taste - in your efforts to not make any noise, you had bitten your lip so hard it broke skin. The pain, however, was quickly overshadowed by Butters’ ministrations, and you slapped one of your hands over your mouth to silence yourself, leaning with your back against the wall again.

It wasn’t like any past fuck you ever had. Everything was heightened; You heard every slap of his skin against yours and all the little sharp breaths both of you took as you tried to avoid being too loud in your pleasure, you could feel every single vein in his cock squeezing through your tight walls, and you saw whole galaxies even through your closed eyes.

As that coil inside of your belly was getting tighter and tighter, so were your walls against Butters’ cock - and you knew that had to be catching up to him, as he started to lose the pace on his thrusts, and the muscle in his arms and legs seemed to become even more tense. “‘m- I- can’t hold much longer like this, sweets!” It seemed almost impossible for him to get the words out, having to say them through quick breaths as he got close to his release himself. “You’re just… too good…”

Then there was no warning as he let out a loud growl and his hips hit your body with one final deep slam, and you felt his dick pulsating as he filled the deepest part of you with his hot seed. The thumb in his left hand, however, still flicked your clit viciously, and so it didn’t take much longer for you to come undone, your cunt gripping his throbbing dick as the pleasure washed over your body for a second time.

As both of you dissolved into each other’s bodies, you found it in yourself to take his face in your shaky hands and press his lips to yours once more. Unlike your previous kisses of today, though, this moment was much more kind and full of tenderness, feeling exactly like the ones you shared throughout your relationship with him. You both felt loved and cared for, and while that rough fuck session took care of the needs of your physical bodies, the kiss took care of your souls.

You only dared part your mouths this time when it became necessary to breathe, and both of you sported soft smiles after you did, tired, but happy. You started using one of your hands to brush back through your fingers the multiple small strands of hair glued to his forehead, while the other caressed his cheek. He leaned into your touch, resting his hands on your waist. His dick was softening, but he didn’t feel keen on pulling out just yet, relishing the closeness of your bodies like this.

“I love you, Leo.” You finally broke the ice after a couple of minutes like this, giving him a peck on the forehead, to draw his attention back to Earth.

“Geez, by now I sure hope so!” You couldn’t help but giggle at his ever present sincerity. “I love you too, (Y/N).”

As you smiled and took note of your actual environment for the first time in a while, an idea came to mind. “Wanna get away from here?” You already knew what his answer would be to this offer, but you wanted to make your intentions clear nonetheless. “We can find someplace else where we can make some real noise.”

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

You and Butters didn’t come back for the rest of classes, and nobody in school had an answer to where you were, either. All texts sent to you or him went unanswered for that day, and your friends had no idea what happened.

What they could certainly say they saw, though, was the pair of you arriving at school together the next morning with a pep in both your steps, chatting away and smiling as you held hands. Everyone was left speechless, and some even questioned if the last few days had even been real.

The only person who didn’t seem confused was Eric Cartman, his nonchalant behavior earning him plenty of questioning from the other dudes the following days, but he refused to admit to anything. And why would he, anyway? You and his friend were back together, happy as could be, the sun was up in the sky, everything was right. And, if it ever stopped being that way, he had a certain tiny bottle in the back of his wardrobe to sort things out again.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#south park #south park fanfiction #south park smut #south park x reader #south park x y/n #south park fanfic #butters stotch #leopold “butters” stotch #leopold “butters” stotch x reader #leopold “butters” stotch x y/n #butters x reader #butters x y/n #butters x you #sp x reader #butters #south park butters #south park butters stotch

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spark-w-chlo · 6 months ago

Text

Anything for You

Poor!Kenny x Rich!Fem!Reader

CW's: car sex, riding, p in v, nicknames, strong language, smoking, hair pulling

Enjoy! <3

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"Are you sure you want me to wear this?" I ask Kenny, showing him the long, backless black dress that he chose from the closet. Kenny lounged on our bed, staring. He agreed to live with me if we would split the rent. So our place wasn't the largest, or the nicest. But he did let me buy the decor and furniture. Besides, it didn't matter to me where we lived as long as I lived with him.

"Yes, that one. With heels too." I raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything more. Kenny and I didn't go out often as he always, always paid. He would never let me pay for our meals out. And Kenny didn't have a lot to pay with. So I tried to refrain from going out. I even learned how to cook and honestly, I loved being the one to feed Kenny. I fell in love with Kenny for who he was, his monetary situation had nothing to do with our relationship.

"Kenny, where are we going?" He just kept smiling at me, shaking his head. I realized I wasn't going to get anywhere with him.

"Okay, I'll wear the dress."

"Kenny...? What are we doing here?" Kenny and I stood in front of one of the more expensive restaurants in Colorado. I've eaten here before. It's good but way too expensive.

"I'm taking you out to dinner." Kenny was wearing a black suit, no tie. I won't lie, he looked hot. I wanted to rip his clothes off and fuck him right there when he showed me. But now I feel kind of queasy. He guided me inside the restaurant and we sat at a table promptly.

"Kenny, this place is too expensive, I don't want to eat here." I whispered across the table. "At least let me pay." He took my hand and kissed the knuckles.

"I wanted to treat you to dinner." His smile, dimples, creased eyes made me want to cry. He was so excited but he couldn't afford this. I knew he couldn't afford it.

"Kenny. I love you so much. We've been together for so long. I don't need places like this. I'd be just as happy at City Wok." He rolled his eyes, squeezing my hand.

"Kenny, please. I don't think we can afford this." The waiter popped up beside us, not allowing me to say anymore.

"Sir, the champagne you requested." He showed Kenny the bottle and he nodded, prompting the waiter to pour the golden drink into our glasses.

Now I was just confused. I gave Kenny a questioning glance as the waiter walked away.

"Y/N. I know I can't afford this place. But you deserve it. More than anything, you deserve a lifestyle I can't provide for you." I recoiled. Is he breaking up with me. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. He takes my hand again and squeezes it.

"But I also know you so well. I knew you prefer a cheap cheeseburger than an expensive meal. I know you'd rather cook at home. I know I'll spend my entire life making you as happy as you deserve to be. I can't make more money than you do, but I can make sure you'll never know the hardships of life. But you're right. I can't afford this meal." He lifts his glass of champagne and downs the entire thing before standing up, straightening his dress jacket, and standing before me.

"Y/N..." Kenny gets on one knee before me. "I can't afford this meal because I spent it all on a ring." He pulls out a black velvet box and opens it. I gasp. A gorgeous diamond with a simple gold band shines in the felt.

"I want to spend every moment of my life with you. Eating greasy cheeseburgers and your experimental cooking. I want to fight with you and have kids with you and grow old with you-"

"Yes, yes yes." I cry, grabbing Kenny's face and kissing his lips. I couldn't hear anyone else, see anyone other than Kenny.

"We're only here for drinks, I'm getting you a cheeseburger on the way home." He smiles at me and takes my hand to slid the perfect ring down my finger.

"Grab the bottle, lets get out of here."

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A breathy moan leaves my lips as Kenny kisses his way down my neck. His lips find my breast and he takes it into his hand, kissing, licking, and sucking on my sensitive skin.

We'd finished the large bottle of champagne in the car. It sat facing South Park, where the Halloween Witch Week commenced every year. It was secluded. We drank the champagne, smoked a joint Kenny had stashed away, and were now about to fuck in the drivers seat of his car.

"Kenny." I whined, wiggling on top of him. His cock was deep inside me and I could feel him every time he twitched. But he wouldn't let me move. He just kept touching me.

"Be patient princess. I want to taste my wife's skin." We weren't even married yet and he was calling me his wife. I grew impatient, my brain a little delirious with his tongue on my skin, cock inside me, drinks and weed. There was so much going on, I couldn't focus.

I began to grind on top of him and- fuck, he bit me! "Kenny!" I gasped. I looked down to my breast to find a perfect set of bite marks.

"You couldn't wait, I had to punish you." Slowly, Kenny lifted me and then let me sink back onto him. I moaned in his ear, grasping his hair. My dress was coiled around my waist, panties abandoned long ago. He repeated this, slowly. It was agonizing in the best way. I could feel every part of him. I don't think I was even doing any work. Kenny was using my body however he pleased.

Kenny wrapped a fist in my hair and pulled my head back. He stared at me as we fucked, slowly, lovingly. He brought my mouth down onto his as he pushed my hips down hard. I gasped into his mouth, allowing him to explore it with his tongue. His soft thrusts were hard, aggressive now. I couldn't focus on anything but Kenny. His body against mine, his tongue in my mouth, his cock invading me deep and hard. I could feel my orgasm rushing me.

Kenny pulled away. "I can feel you princess, are you gonna come on my cock?" I couldn't even nod. My eyes rolled back into my head as my orgasm rushed through me. I could feel Kenny follow close behind me. He groaned into my chest as he filled me.

"Kenny." I finally whispered.

"Yes, my love?" He kissed my neck tenderly, rubbing his hand up and down my back.

"I want a cheeseburger." "You want a cheeseburger."

I laughed lightly, resting my forehead against his.

"Yes, my husband. I need a cheeseburger."

#southpark fanfiction #south park smut #south park x reader #south park x y/n #kenny mccormick #kenny x reader #kenny x y/n #fem reader

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angel-gone-dark · 4 months ago

Note

Kyle x Coquette girlie pretty please with sugar on top. 🤭

Kyle x Coquette!F!Reader

ok so like. i went off here. um, hope you like it bestie LMAO

CWs: unprotected sex, reader is a little bit of a shit, maybe a lil rough?

SMUT UNDER CUT. MDNI.

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Kyle raised a brow at his friends in the hallway, who were all in various states of confusion.

“What the hell are you all staring at?” He snipped, and Cartman pointed across the hall.

“Dude, look at her outfit. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Kyle looked over at the girl who had been pointed out. She was surrounded by the other girls, talking and laughing. He was entranced with the way she moved, flipping her hair over her shoulder. He’d never seen someone dress the way she did, her outfit consisting of white lace and pink bows. The mary janes on her feet clicked against the tiles any time she shuffled her pose. He swallowed, forcing his eyes back onto his friends.

“Yeah? What, uh, what about it?” He asked.

Cartman cocked his head to the side, “What is she even going for?”

“Who cares, it works,” Kenny grinned. “She looks fucking hot.”

Kyle couldn’t help but agree. Her skirt was short over her tights, shirt showing off the smooth skin of her shoulders. He couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of it pressed against him, especially the skin on her chest and thighs. He had to take some deep breaths, attempting to force his boner down. Kyle was saved, literally, by the bell. He dashed off to his class, trying his hardest to ignore the pretty girl- and the bewildered cries of his friends.

୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧

The ginger slid his fingers through his curls, squinting down at his textbooks in frustration. He jotted down notes, rereading them at least 5 times over to make sure they made sense. He jumped, looking up with wide eyes when he was joined at the table… by the girl he was looking at earlier. You.

“Uh, hey,” he greeted. “Do you need something?”

“Yeah, I hear you’re a really good tutor. Can I get you to look over my work quickly?” You batted your lashes at him and he was suddenly extremely glad he was sitting down.

“Yeah, yes of course,” He nodded, taking your notebook from you to glance over your notes. “This looks really good, but I think you have an error right here.”

You hummed, nodding. You contorted your face into your cutest pout, absolutely indulging in his eyes on you.

“I don’t understand,” you huffed, moving your chair closer to him and pressing your chest up against his arm.

He stammered trying to muster a reply, “W-well, uh, here. Look at the way I broke it down in my notes.”

Throughout his whole ‘tutoring’ thing, you acted your absolute cutest. If you were being entirely honest, you’d had your eyes on him from the moment you saw him. You were heavily repressing the urge to jump his bones in the very public library.

“You know, I think you should come to my house after school. I could use some more help,” you suggested, leaning further into him.

His face was tinged deep with a blush that went from the tops of his ears down, down… you gnawed your lip thinking how far it reached.

“Y-yeah. Okay,” he gave in. “Where do you…”

You interrupted him, “Meet me after school. We’ll walk together, handsome.”

He gaped as you retreated from the library, your little date secure.

୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧

You waited for Kyle near the school’s main entrance, books clutched close to your chest. Your sickly sweet smile returned as he approached, and you gave him that innocent look that you knew would drive him nuts.

“Hi, Kyle,” you had put on your most charming voice. “Thanks for walking me home and helping me with homework.”

“No problem,” he smiled and it nearly took you out. “Can you scooch over? I’d rather be the one walking on the outside of the sidewalk.”

Oh, he was going to be the death of you. The walk to your house was mostly quiet, Kyle seeming content with the silence.

You opened your door, gesturing for him to follow you, and led him all the way up to your room. You sat pretty on your bed, tilting your head at him. He glanced around, trying to avoid your hungry gaze draping down him. You sighed gently, combing your fingers up your body to untie the ribbon holding your hair in its graceful ponytail. He sat in your desk chair, moving his textbook over his lap.

You stood, waltzing right on over and placing your hand over the thick book between you and heaven.

“Hiding something?” You teased, pressing down on it.

He grabbed your wrist in his hand, speaking through grit teeth, “Stop it.”

“Or what?” You taunted. He had had enough of your attitude.

Kyle stood, grabbed you by the hips, and tossed you onto the mattress. He leaned over you, voice strained and hands gripping the sheets.

“You’re making it extremely difficult for me to stay decent, do you know that? You asked me to help you study, and here I am trying, and you’re giving me those goddamn eyes,” he rambled, more frustrated than you had expected. “I can’t tell if you’re giving me permission to touch you like I want to.”

“Do it.”

As soon as he had your permission he was ravishing your lips with his, his hands moving to squeeze eagerly at your chest as he practically shoved his tongue down your throat.

“You’re so fucking pretty, honey,” he breathed, face dipping to nip at your neck. “Why can’t you be this good all the time, hm?”

You groaned as his lips moved downwards, and he left purpley blue hickeys on your skin. Those would be hard to cover, and you would have been angrier if one of his hands hadn’t moved under your skirt to stroke your slit through your tights and panties.

“Sorry about this, but the damn things are in the way.” He huffed, ripping a hole directly in the crotch of your tights.

As you made a move to protest, his deft fingers moved your panties to the side, thumb rolling over your clit and index plunging into you. You gasped, back arching under his touch as he stretched you out, adding his middle finger as well.

“Kyle, please.” You whined.

“Please what, pretty? Use your manners.”

“Please just fuck me.”

He chuckled, fingers curling inside of you teasingly, “Since you asked so nicely.”

You whimpered at how empty you felt as he retracted his fingers to undo his belt and jeans, leaning up on your elbows to watch. As he pulled his cock out of his boxers, you couldn’t help but salivate. He was thick, and wet, and blushing an angry pink at the tip. It twitched as he touched it to glide it against your slit, making you moan.

He was eager, too eager to properly undress either of you. All he did was flip your skirt up as he sunk into you, his jaw hanging open as he allowed you to adjust.

“Shit, you’re tight,” he grunted, rolling his hips harshly into yours. “Atta girl, you can take it. C’mere.”

He pressed his lips on yours again as he began to move, pace quickly rising from the simple grind of his hips to roughly pound into your cunt. Your eyes fell shut, hands clawing at your cute pink bedspread.

“K-Kyle, fuck.” You heaved, hips bucking up into his.

“Such a dirty mouth on you, gorgeous…” He smirked down at you, thumb moving back to roll over your clit. “Do you want me to make you cum on my cock?”

“Please, please, I need it, Kyle.” You begged, all sense of dignity out the window as he plunged in and out of you with wet slaps.

“Good girl. Such a good girl,” he groaned, increasing the pressure of his tight little circles. “So cute f’me.”

His cock twitched inside you, and he dropped his drooling mouth to your neck again, biting down hard before whispering in your ear.

“I’m gonna cum inside you, honey, you can take it. Fuck.”

You couldn’t hold it any longer, the tight coil that rested in your abdomen snapping suddenly as you came with a cry. You gripped him so tight he could barely move as he ground his hips down into you, his release not far behind, spilling warmth inside of you.

“Shit,” he cursed, gently pulling himself from your hole. “If you look this good with my cum dripping out of you we might be here for a while.”

୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧

he owes reader a pair of tights!!!!

word count: 1411

#south park fanfiction #south park smut #south park x reader #south park x y/n #south park x you #south park x reader smut #south park x you smut #south park x y/n smut #kyle broflovski smut #kyle broflovski x fem reader #fem reader smut #fem reader #mutuals #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x you #kyle broflovski x y/n #x reader smut #reader insert smut

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writingforcuteppl · 1 month ago

Text

Lesson 1: Kissing

PAIRING: Kenny McCormick x f!Reader

SUMMARY: Never been kissed? No way. Lucky you, your best friend would love to do it.

GENRE: Fluff

WARNINGS: A little bit suggestive. Swearing. AGED UP CHARACTERS

WORD COUNT: 1.2k words

PART: 1 (series masterlist)

“So… you’re telling me that in all these years, you’ve never kissed anyone?” Kenny was baffled. Hell, he was shocked. He turned around on his chair, completely forgetting whatever he was doing on his computer.

You, on the other hand, didn’t understand why he was so shocked.

“Yeah, what about it?” you continued, looking at your phone screen before finally deciding to lock it and pay attention to your best friend. Kenny just stayed there, looking at you, his brain going insane at the confession. “What? Are you going to just stay there with that stupid look on your face?” you chuckled.

“‘I don’t believe you.” Kenny passed his hands through his face, trying to come up with something else to say. You sat down on his bed.

“Well, I’m telling you the truth. Never.”

“No way. You cannot be serious. Not even once?” Twenty-three years, and you’ve never been kissed?

“Mhm… well, maybe just a peck. But that was years ago…” Kenny sighed. And you covered your face with your hands. This was so embarrassing. You didn’t even remember how the hell this conversation started, but here you were, admitting to one of your most experienced friends you’ve never been kissed properly.

“Well, a peck is a peck.”

“Yeah, right. That’s just lame, to be honest.” You looked at Kenny, and for the first time, you couldn’t really decipher his expression.

“So you, one of the prettiest girls I’ve known for my whole life, who's not only amazing but such a good friend, hasn’t kissed anyone? Bullshit, I thought we said we would never lie to each other.” your stomach made a flip after those words came out of his mouth. Yeah, even if Kenny has been your friend for so many years, you had to admit that he was handsome and to be honest, you were always a sucker for compliments.

“God, Kenny, why is it so hard to understand?” The more he said it, the more you started to regret the confession.

Kenny slowly stood up and made his way to his bed. He just stayed there in front of you. You looked up at him.

“Do you wanna try it?” you felt your heart in your throat.

“The fuck you’re talking about McCormick!” You stood up, feeling too overwhelmed by his proximity, and laughed it off, thinking he was just joking, as he always does. You started to walk to his bedroom door and at least escape whatever new reality you had just stepped into, and that’s when you felt Kenny’s hand on your wrist.

Kenny turned you around, making your whole body crash with his. You grabbed his shirt, not really sure if you wanted him to get away from you or if you needed him closer, but never locked eyes with him.

“Let me just give you your first kiss.” you started to bite your lip. This couldn’t be right, can it? What if this changed the friendship you’ve had with him for all these years? As your mind was trying to decide whether it was a good choice, you felt Kenny’s left hand on your cheek. You finally looked into his eyes and gulped. Fuck this. What’s the worst that could happen? You closed your eyes and only nodded. Kenny smiled.

You felt his lips ghost yours, and for a brief moment, you thought he was going to back down—until you felt him. He only gave you a small peck at first, and you were kind of disappointed. You shrugged, and Kenny couldn’t help but laugh.

“Easy, baby. I will give you what I promised.” you felt your blood rush into your cheeks at the nickname. Kenny grabbed you by the hand and made his way to his bed. He sat down and grabbed you by your hips so you could straddle him. You didn’t even sit properly when Kenny kissed you again, this time more feverishly. You opened your mouth, welcoming whatever he was about to do.

You felt Kenny’s hand grab your cheek once again and tried to kiss him back the same way he was doing it. And it was terrible. You felt your teeth clash against each other, and you were pretty sure it shouldn’t happen.

You pushed Kenny away from you.

“I suck.” you hid your face in his neck and Kenny smiled. Well, he did believe you, but now he has confirmed it, and any other suspicion of you actually having your first kiss has dissipated entirely from his mind.

“Hey, it’s okay. Look at me.” you stayed right there. You didn’t want to see him. You just wanted the earth to swallow you up to the center of the planet. Since you didn’t follow his instructions, Kenny moved so you could come out of your hiding spot. He grabbed you by the cheeks with only one of his hands, and your whole body jerked. He was a little bit rough, but by the reaction of your entire body, it appears that you liked it. He will keep that in mind.

“Do this.” He puckered his lips out so you could mirror his action. “Good girl, now, when you kiss me, you are going to pucker them out, ok? Try leaving them like that during the kiss.” you nodded.

He kissed you again, and you tried to leave your lips just as he instructed. It was better. You could feel his tongue brush against yours, and you felt a rush going through your whole body. As he moved his face to make the kiss last longer, you grabbed both of his arms. This was way better than what you thought. You just let Kenny guide you in the kiss. At one point, your tongues were dancing with each other, as if this was just so normal as if your mouths already knew what to do, as if you’d done this before. It felt natural. Of course, it wasn’t that perfect. You still felt your teeth clash, but not as much, and you always remember what he told you. He slowly pulled back and smiled.

“Better. You will improve. You just need more practice.” your mind was hazy. It was as if the kiss made you enter a trance that you didn’t want to come out of.

“You think?”

“Yes, and if you let me, I would love you to practice with me,” cheeky bastard. You forgot who you were with.

“And what do you get out of this, Ken?”

“Well, first, I would make sure that you get proper lessons from someone who at least knows what they’re doing.”

“And you’re that person.” you laughed.

“And secondly, I can at least make sure that no one hurts you while practicing. I don’t want someone to hurt you,” you sighed. He may be right.

“But what about…” You didn’t know how to bring up the topic.

“Our friendship?” You nodded. You cannot lose him; he has always been that friend to you—always by your side, always up to whatever you wanted to do. “Don’t worry; we will always be the friends we’ve been—just with a little more perks, “ he assured you.

“Fine, but just friends with a little more perks.” For a reason, you didn’t want to say friends with benefits because that’s what basically meant. In your mind, saying what it is out loud would be a completely different thing. Like, he would only use you for that. And well, as for now, the only perk was kissing.

“I promise.” He showed you his pinky finger, and you closed the pact. Hey, it was just kissing, right? What could possibly go wrong?

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

n a v i g a t i o n

#south park fluff #south park smut #kenny fluff #kenny smut #kenny mccormick fluff #kenny mccormick smut #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick #south park kenny #south park #south park imagines #south park x reader

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southparktexts · 11 months ago

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How the main four react when they get jealous

Kyle :

my boy is an absolute sweetheart when it comes to you.

openly acts out when he’s jealous.

CLENCHES HIS FISTS WHEN HES ABOUT TO THROW HANDS.

calls you nicknames in conversation so everyone knows you’re his.

“Yeah and then Eric-“

“darling!! we have a date in 8 hours we gotta go!!”

but when hes really jealous, expect him to be all over you… subtly.

wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you in, kissing your forehead.

whispering into your ears and glaring at whoever he’s jealous of.

overall a hopeless, angered issued partner.

Stan :

where can i begin with this boy?

he is SOOO possessive over you, you don’t understand.

purposely makes you wear his clothes so you smell like him or ‘accidentally’ spraying his cologne on you.

“ Hey!! you sprayed your cologne on me again!”

“Sorry babe!”

very clingy when he’s jealous.

whispering things into your ear so you know who you belong too.

purposely pulls you in for a kiss mid-sentence while glaring at whomever he’s jealous of.

Kenny :

my boy kenny doesn’t really get jealous of people but when he is, it’s very obvious.

just like kyle his tone switches up.

“babe. lets go.”

“okay.. one second..”

not controlling in the sense but when hes jealous he wants you to leave so you can talk.

either ends up being a making out session or a long talk.

he just wants to show you that he loves you and no one can love you like he does.

also probably randomly gives you his jackets or parka.

Eric ;

MY BOY GETS REALLY POSSESSIVE AND JEALOUS.

Not afraid to speak up about issues and defend you no matter what.

Very vocal with his emotions and jealousy.

Not really an public affection type of guy but will squeeze your hand.

“Shut the fuck up, we’re leaving. C’mon baby.”

“Okay !! Bye-“

drags you with him so you guys can go home and cuddle.

giving the most DIRTIEST looks possible to whoever hes jealous of.

not afraid to threaten someone or beat them up as long as they dont get in the way between you too.

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sunny-ssunset · 5 months ago

Text

South park smoking 🍃 w them

dividers from pinterest

Masterlist

♡First little fanfic thingy lol 🥰 I just wanted to write something a wittle bit silly goofy 🥺

♡Includes smoking zaza with Stan, Kyle, Kenny, (all seperate and ofc aged up)

Stan

-I dont really see him smoking it tbh, He kinda hates it bc of his dad and stuff

-He wouldnt shame you for it, i mean hes an alcholic soo

-He can be the responsible one for once i guess lmao

-You'd end up smoking with his dad and towlie lmao

-In the odd chance he does however i can see him laughing at like everything

- You both try baking something cuz munchies

-It goes horribly and you set your house on fire

-That being said i dont think he'll ever smoke again.

Kyle

-Like Stan i dont really see him smoking it

-He has an opinion on that stuff, He thinks its unhealthy and addictive

- He'll look after when your high

-He takes you places to get food and he'll cuddle you if your paranoid

-If he ever smoked with you, You'd have to roll for him as he doesnt know what hes doing

-I think he'd be very touchy like he'd want to cuddle all the time

-AND SO CLINGYYYY

-He would defo follow you everwhere

-"Kyle wtf" "Can i pleaseeee come with" "I'm going toilet" "Oh"

Kenny

-Mf would never pass up an opportunity to smoke with you

-10000000/10 duo

-Hes got a high fkin tolerance though so you'd smoke LOADS

-Hes really fkin talkative when hes high tbh

-You cant take eachother seriously

-It is an experience when you both decide to go shop for some snacks

-Both of you keep picking shit up with out even looking at what it is, or even prices tbh

-"Thats 287.49" "PAHAHA" "Y/n wtf whats so funny"

-He'd laugh at you for laughing after you laughed for no reason

-Luckily you had savings sooo

-Like Kyle hes also very clingy

-If your going toilet, Hes coming to you'd literally pee together because 'he doesnt wanna be alone'

-He'd also be very touchy, if you bent over to pick something up, he definitely grab

-Anyways you'd both probably end up making out

dividers by @k1ssyoursister

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augustrambles · 2 years ago

Note

hi august :) can i request kyle’s first time eating out (or maybe facesitting 👀) his gf?

a/n: yummy

kyle broflovski x reader [highschool AU]

cwarnings: first time eating out, afab reader, theythem pronouns, nsfw

KYLE BROFLOVSKI

"if i do this wrong, im so sorry-"

needs a lot of reassurance.

he has never been so nervous before

like hes thinking rn "what if they leave me bc of this???"

but when he does, and he hears sounds of pleasure

BOYY his confidence is up

hes like "omg i actually did it?? AND I DID IT RIGHT!"

lowkey smiles inside ur pussy tbh

hes just happy he made you happy

after the funtim moment he talks to you about it

you rlly have to praise him.

DUDE. PULL HIS HAIR.

like if you pull his hair he will get butterflies

feels like he ate butterflies for breakfast dinner n lunch

hes lowkey a masochist but also loves praise

so just mix the two

"my good little whore" and he will scream mentally

hes just really an emotional mess during the whole situation

after the first time, he acts more less emotional

more smirks n shit

he just goes super egoist after the first few times

happy kyle :3

#south park #south park x reader #south park x y/n #kyle broflovski #kyle x reader #sp kyle #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle brovlofski #kyle broflovski smut #south park smut #kyle south park #south park kyle

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milkibabe · 2 years ago

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♥ Family Camping Trip w/ Kenny ♥

✢ summary: headcanons on going on a camping trip with Kenny’s family

✢ authors note: heyy since my first post blew up i'm deciding to do all of the boys ;p

✢ gender: reader is implied to be female <3

✢ warnings: nsfw, mentions of weed/smoking

Kenny Headcanons

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT below cut!

𝒮𝐹𝒲

Begged you to go camping with him for months.

When you finally took some time off to go with him, he was ecstatic.

"We're gonna have so much fun"

Was confused why you packed so much stuff.

"What do you mean you still need to brush your teeth?"

Boy is an animal I swear, he can be so nasty.

You, Kenny, and Karen played 'I Spy' while in the car.

Kenny loves when you play with his little sister, it makes his heart melt.

"You'd make such a good mom"

Kenny just casually drops that while you're unpacking, like it isn't the sweetest thing you've ever heard.

You cannot escape his kisses, you've lost count of how many times he's kissed you.

You'll just be getting the fire wood ready for the campfire and he'll sneak up and kiss you on the neck from behind.

"There's my pretty girl"

Kenny is already rugged by nature, so camping is really his element.

When it's just you around he'll purposely be shirtless to get your attention.

Seeing him chop wood... while shirtless??? You nearly exploded at the sight.

"Whatcha lookin' at hm?"

He gives you a cocky grin that makes you roll your eyes.

Stupid, sexy Kenny.

He is a night owl. He prefers to do everything later at night with you.

He always sleeps through breakfast, so you always nag him to eat lunch.

"Only if I get to eat you for lunch" He grins at you.

You groan and push him away. Dude can be so cheesy.

Never lets you wear your own sweaters or jackets. He wants you to wear is giant, orange parka, always.

He saw you shiver and immediately draped it over your shoulders.

His parka smells like his cologne and weed.

You always tell him "Babe... you're gonna make my hair smell like weed.

Speaking of weed, boy is always offering you some.

"Babe, can we please smoke by the water?"

You look at your phone. "Kenny, it's like 3 am..."

You, of course, do it anyways. It's fun getting high with your hot, blonde stoner bf.

*Queue Moonlight by Kali Uchis*

He makes sure to bring plenty of water for the dry mouth and your favorite snackies when you get the munchies.

He loves to feed you the snacks himself, he loves spoiling you.

"I want to do this with you every night for the rest of my life"

𝓝𝓢𝓕𝓦

Everyone already knows Kenny is a horny ass man, so it was no surprise when you couldn't get him off of you.

Cannot fucking resist teasing you every second.

Would whisper in your ears in the car while you're just minding your own business.

"Can't wait to fuck your brains out"

The face you made when he whispered that satisfied him a lot.

Everywhere you went on that trip was a place to fuck.

The tent? Yep. Some random isolated place in the middle of the woods? Yup. The showers/bathroom? You betcha.

Asked you to go skinny dipping with him in the middle of the night.

You were freezing cold of course.

This dude has the audacity to say "Aw, you can come to me to conserve warmth"

Obviously, this whole thing was a ploy to hold you while you were naked.

He would instantly start to suck on your neck, while massaging your ass with both hands.

You dug your fingernails into his back and in response he bit your neck.

Your moans made him grin, he loved how easily you melted into his touch.

Turned you around so he could grind his cock between your ass.

Wrapped his arms around your shoulders and whispered into your ear while he grinded against you.

"You're fucking perfect"

When shit was getting super heated, he walked you over to an isolated rock so you could hold yourself up on it while he fucked you.

You held on to that rock for dear life while he pounded you.

He loved watching how your body looked under the moonlight.

His favorite thing about standing doggy style is being able to watch himself pull out all the way and slam back into you.

Always riles him up when you stroke his ego.

You whine out, "Ah, its too big Kenny!"

Kenny smirks and says "Aw, but you take me so well, baby"

He only fucks you harder when you whine and whimper.

Takes him forever to cum, you probably came three times by now.

That's fine by him, he enjoys overstimulating you.

You were losing your grip on the rock and your legs could no longer stand, so he has to hold you up.

Kenny knows his job is done when you are about to collapse.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum"

He finally hits his climax and he pulls out to cum all over your ass.

"My favorite sight in the world"

He's proud of the work he's done but notices you about to pass out and quickly uses the water to wash you off.

"My sleepy little princess"

After drying you off with a towel, he puts his parka on you and carries you back to camp.

"Ooh, remind me to fuck you while you wear this next time"

Dude's always thinking of the next time he gets to fuck you smh.

#south park fanfiction #south park x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick x reader smut #south park hcs #south park #south park smut #kenny mccormick

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mccormickgf · 2 months ago

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✧ ⁺˳ .🎄࿐ kyumi’s christmas

-> welcome to my first ever kinkmas/fluffmas ! i wanted to do a mix of both smut and fluff, so there’ll be 5 of each. ALL DATES ARE TENTATIVE !!!!

-> during this, i won’t be writing any requests since this will be taking up most of my time. but feel free to send them in for me to write in january <3

── i saw mommy kissing santa claus ! ft. butters scotch

❆ every year, your husband, butters, dresses up as santa for your kids. however, a poorly timed glance out of their bedroom door leads to a bizarre yet hilarious twist on christmas eve. | fluff

❆ dec. 1

── let it snow ! ft. eric cartman

❆ a record-breaking blizzard hits south park, colorado, and you're stuck outside eric cartman’s house, who just happens to be your sworn enemy. what choice do you have but to knock on the door? | smut

❆ dec. 3

── santa baby ! ft. wendy testaburger

❆ you knew you never should’ve accepted a gift from eric cartman. but maybe it was the final push you and your roommate wendy needed to finally confess. | smut

❆ dec. 6

── winter wonderland ! ft. kyle broflovski

❆ every christmas, your family always brings up the topic of you having a boyfriend and "settling down." each year, you begrudgingly tell them you're still single. but this year will be different— and you need your best friend, kyle, to help you out. | fluff

❆ dec. 9

── baby, it’s cold outside ! ft. kenny mccormick

❆ delivering your last gift on christmas eve leads to you into your best friend’s dads bed. | smut

❆ dec. 11

── it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas ! ft. stan marsh

❆ every christmas, you and stan always compete to see who can give the best gift. but this year, it’s safe to say you won. | fluff

❆ dec. 13

── deck the halls ! ft. stan marsh & wendy testaburger

❆ messing around while christmas decorating with your partners, stan and wendy, leads to more than any of you expected. | smut

❆ dec. 15

── last christmas ! ft. craig tucker & tweek tweak

❆ christmas has been a sore subject for you for a few years now. maybe two annoying upstairs neighbours can help bring back your christmas spirit. | fluff

❆ dec. 18

── jingle bells ! ft. kenny mccormick

❆ hanging a bell on your choker was supposed to be a cute addition to your winter outfit. who knew your boyfriend would go feral? | smut

❆ dec. 21

── i’ll be home for christmas ! ft. craig tucker

❆ a blizzard delays all of the flights back to south park, but craig’s got you waiting for him. he’s determined to make it home. | fluff

❆ dec. 24

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slutz4marsh · 2 months ago

Note

Heyyy bbg can you make shower time headcannons of Kyle Broflovski? 💋

im gonna be so honest i did NOT know what this was asking so its a three parter

KYLE BROFLOVSKI X GN!READER: "IN THE SHOWER" (Fluff & Smut - HEADCANONS)

SOLO

Kyle is a germaphobe. He showers at minimum 3 times a day.

He has a million different products for hair care and skin. Half of the bottles in his shower are things you can’t pronounce.

His routine consists of shampoo → conditioner → wash body → rinse out conditioner. This is without even talking about the post-shower routine. (which consists of lotion and even more hair care products and a diffuser and extremely sore arms after the fact)

He’s very serious about things like cleanliness and personal grooming. Again, partly due to him being such a germaphobe.

Kinda unrelated but he will also keep his shower ABSURDLY clean. It’s not even part of his chores, he just does it.

TOGETHER (fluff)

To Kyle, shower time is a bit of a personal time. Because he’s so meticulous!!

Also, it’s sort of a time to destress and ignore the rest of the world.

So when he lets you shower with him - it’s a testament to how much he loves and trusts you.

He’s very domestic. He massages your scalp as he washes your hair. He presses gentle kisses to your shoulders, collarbones, back - anywhere he can reach as he washes your body of all the grime and stress of the day.

He focuses all his energy on you. Taking care of you is almost a form of self care for him, in a way. It puts his mind at ease knowing that you’re well and taken care of.

SMUT

Of course. Showers tend to get a little sensual sometimes.

The water, the soap - it just makes his hands glide across your body so much easier…

And he swears it’s an accident when his expert fingers glide over your nipples. The first time, you believe him.

Until his lips are attached to the back of your neck and his fingers flick your sensitive buds. He nips at your skin softly, gently rolling your nipples between slender fingers.

You can feel how hard he is, the evidence of his arousal pressing right against your thigh.

One hand leaves your chest to dip between your thighs, teasingly rubbing back and forth. When he decides you’re plenty aroused, he pulls his hand away. Before you can even complain, he lightly smacks your hip.

“Put your hands against the wall, love.”

Of course you comply immediately.

He works his way inside of you, groaning the whole time. You’re leaning against the wall, panting as you get used to the feeling.

When you’re finally used to him enough for him to move, he goes crazy.

He has a hand in your hair, pulling it every few seconds. He has his other hand on your hip, guiding your movements back onto him.

Praise drops from his lips like it’s second nature. He tells you how good you are, how perfect you feel. How he’s sorry for this, he just had to feel you.

“You’re so fucking perfect- so, fucking- perfect, just for me, yeah?”

He’s panting, groaning, biting at your shoulders and neck.

By the time he cums, it’s hard and a lot all at once. You spasm around him and he frantically ruts into you, moaning against your skin.

He pulls out and his release drips down your legs.

You groan and his only response is cheesy and dumb and it makes you giggle, so he considers it a job well done.

“At least we’re in the shower, huh?”

#star speaks #south park #south park x reader #south park smut #south park x y/n #the constellations #stargazing #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski smut #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x y/n

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messyhairedhazeleyeddude · 1 year ago

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Friends w/ Benefits !!

- with the South Park Boys / x Reader

|| NSFW HC’S & SCENARIOS ||

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

Author’s Note ;

Sup, so I decided on making multiple little scenarios and ideas of what I think would happen if you were in a FWB relationship with these dudes. Trust me, it’s going to get spicy and interesting. And if you’re looking for that, you’ve come to the right place. Keep in mind, the characters are all going to be in their college years so they will be 18+. Not trying to have them in elementary. And if you’re near that age, get out of here kid, this is definitely not for you.

Before I make this too long, I’m going to end this here. Enjoy, tread carefully, I’ll add warnings about what’s in there and details so check that out before you dive too far in. Unless you’re a veteran. HAHAHA

P.S, I didn’t add in Cartman because I’m an AVID hater, I’m sorry in advance! But, I did add somebody I adore: Craig! Although, it’s kinda gay, but that’s for the boys or transmascs. Y’know, I gotta provide!

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

Point of View : First P.O.V.

Character’s in here : Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski, Kenny McCormick, and Craig Tucker.

╒══════════════════════╕

#1 ; Stan Marsh

The song that I thought fit this best :

Sexual Dynamic : Fem!Dom | Masc!Sub

What’s in here : Mentions of throwing-up (obviously), dom fem reader, edging, and drunk oral sex.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

- Phew, this dude will take FOREVER before he comes around to this idea.

- I feel like this would be the case of not trying to move too fast into a relationship because let’s be honest, he’s going to want to end up being with you.

- He’ll have met you during class when assigned a project with you. A bit cliché, but do you think he’d really have the guts to randomly walk up to you?

- You’d end up in conversations with him because of the constant pairing together and this helped the both of you find out you had similar interests. He loved the same genre of music, had the same sense of humor, and made you laugh half of the time because of his stupid jokes.

- Eventually, Stan tried to see you whenever he was free and his friends weren’t tagging behind. A lot of this was during your walk to classes.

- He’d have to race to his right after and sometimes even arrived late because of you.

- Wendy was the first to get suspicious of the behavior because it’s her ex after all and she wasn’t done with her constant off-and-on relationship with him.

- They got into a huge fight about it and that ended up putting the idea in Stan’s head instead. (Poor Wendy. Happens to the best of us.)

- Might’ve caused a complete break-up between them.

- First time he didn’t go goth because of it! (Really, it’s because of you.)

- But, that didn’t mean he didn’t drink.

- And that also didn’t include the fact he was beginning to think of you in that way which in turn made him began to avoid you.

- His races to his classes turned into him racing out of the classes he had with you to the bathroom.

- After a couple of weeks of him doing this, you concluded it had to do something with Wendy, but you thought he was distancing himself to get her back.

- The depression hit hard. Despite you having an attraction towards him, you tried to convince yourself you were okay.

- You WEREN’T.

- Neither was he. He had to choose between telling you about his feelings or being an asshole by ditching you to get himself plastered enough so he could forget about it. Mind you, he thought he was deep in the friendzone. To him, telling you the truth was setting himself up for rejection.

- You were both oblivious to each other’s suffering until the two of you were invited to the same party.

- Because you were having such a hard time dealing with the random drift from Stan, you decided to go and feel your best by getting dressed up.

- Alcohol was another convincing factor. Ironic considering that was the same reason why he was going.

- When you arrived at the party, you navigated around and talked with a couple of friends before asking where the drinks were. That’s where you would stumble upon the drunk raven-haired boy with a vodka bottle that had been chugged by him to the very middle.

┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✧ Start of Scenario ✧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Stan laid back against the wall of the kitchen, taking another swig of the vodka he had, and reaching up to slap a hand against the counter when his eyes locked with yours. He slowly lifted himself up, swaying like he was about to collapse any second. “Oh fuck, why’d you have to be here? I think I’m going to be sick,” he covered his mouth while loudly exclaiming that, turning to the side as if he was retching.

You automatically looked offended, your face scrunching up before you reared a hand back and slapped him across the cheek. HARD. That knocked the sense back into him because his eyes went wide and he quickly went to explaining himself, “Ow! OW! Hey, wait! No- *gag* It’s not because you’re terrible or anything! It’s cause-”

He couldn’t finish as once he looked down at your outfit, he sprawled straight for the sink, and puked his brains out. That’s when it clicked in your head. Stan threw up whenever he liked someone.

You stared at the bottle he held, freaking out in your thoughts about the situation, and going for it anyway. It wasn’t hard to take it out of his hold as he was focused on getting all the sick out of himself.

Taking a huge chug of the vodka, you coughed and sputtered when swallowing, wiping the sides of your mouth before grabbing the back of Stan’s shirt. He was dragged upstairs while you were finishing the rest of what was left, throwing the bottle on the floor afterward.

He slurred out what he was trying to say earlier as you both ascended to the next floor, “I’m not disgusted by you.! I like-” But, once again, he was cut off by another rise of bile up his throat. Right when you passed by the bathroom, he pulled away from you, making you follow with him before he toppled over the side of the tub to let it out.

“Jesus Christ, Stan. What is wrong with you?” You asked, concerned for his well-being at this point. He leaned his head to the side, spitting the rest, and turning on the shower to wash it away. Then he got up with a wobble. For the third time, he continued to try and explain, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m just trying to tell you that I don’t get sick because I think you’re nasty. I’ve been trying to tell you that I think you’re-”

His face began to scrunch up and that’s when you stepped in, saying it for him with a yell, “I KNOW! I know, Marsh! I know you like me! I like you just as much, you don’t have to say it, you don’t have to acknowledge anything about this! Just stop and go back to Wendy like you have been!” Backing away, you put your hands up and closed your eyes, worried about the inevitable stream of disgusting stomach acid. But, nothing happened.

Instead, the sound of water met your ears and you opened your eyes to see the boy washing his mouth out. His blue eyes met yours, turning off the faucet, and standing back up to clear his throat, “I’ve been trying to say that for weeks now.” It was like a light switch had flipped in his demeanor and he was all of a sudden fine.

Stan continued, sounding a bit raspy because of how much he threw up, “I haven’t talked to Wendy ever since I had walked you to your house. That was the day I realized I… like you.” He hesitated but he managed to say it, looking surprised himself. You paused. It made sense. Around that time, his avoiding started.

There were no words you could give in the moment. You thought this entire time he had been chasing her while in reality, he was hooked on you. Nothing came out and no idea of what to say came to mind. He had officially broke you.

Moving forward slowly, his gaze flickered down to your lips, giving you the signal before leaning into a kiss due to his compulsive and drunk desires. If you weren’t going to tell him anything, he’d get you to respond in another way. Your lips were turning numb along with the rest of your body as you could feel yourself falling down the rabbit hole of a stupor. A part of you was slightly repulsed by the fact he was kissing you after all that happened, but he mostly tasted like the disgusting vodka rather than puke. Which was surprising to say the least.

It didn’t lead to a make-out as you moved to your knees instead, closing the bathroom door behind you, and hearing him lock it with a shaky voice following after, “Fuck, wait, I don’t want to end up getting sick on you. I’ve barely been able to get past a kiss, let alone a touch there. I don’t know if I could handle this.” He rambled and rambled while you unbuttoned his jeans, feeling his dick progressively getting hard already.

A sharp gasp left him when your fingers brushed passed it through his boxers, causing him to hold his breath while still trying to get through to you, “Seriously, [Y/N], I might throw up again!” You sighed and stood back up after his second warning, placing your hand on his chest to ease him down onto the toilet seat. He sat upright, his eyebrows knitted together as you finally responded, “If you do, aim for the tub or sink. I get horny when drunk and I don’t think I want to stop any time soon, Stanley.”

You went right back to getting on your knees in front of him and wrapped your hand around his shaft to jerk it off through the fabric, seeing a small dot of pre-cum began to form around where his tip was. He could feel the warm nauseating feeling travel up his esophagus, making him panic, and move his head to the side to avoid getting it on her while you traveled to get his underwear off of him. Wendy had never done something like this to him before. As soon as he vomited around her, she was quick to lose her appetite for it.

This was different. He felt himself bare and exposed after you succeeded in getting his lower clothes down to his knees. And this was the point where he was feeling it fill his cheeks, he tried to suppress it as much as he could, swallowing it and enduring it. It was like his body was going through an anxiety attack and all it was doing was constantly sending him in this cycle of emptying his stomach because of simple things he should be allowed to do as a man.

He didn’t have an answer to what was wrong with him, but what he did know was that it pissed him the fuck off. Regaining his strength, his hand reached up to your head and he requested something directly to you for the first time without one slightest hesitation, “Please, just keep encouraging me beautiful… and can you keep calling me by my- uh- full name?”

You gave his flushed pink tip kisses, swiping your tongue slowly across it before obliging to his ask while pumping his dick with one hand, “You’re doing an amazing job, Stanley. I’m so proud of you… Is that what you wanted? Does that make you feel good, my handsome boy?” A sly smirk spread onto her face as she looked up to see his shocked expression, wrapping her entire mouth around him and hollowing her cheeks.

Never in a million years would he think that a girl would hit dead on the spot of what he needed, jolts of pleasure running through his legs and lower stomach at the comments. Butterflies plagued him rather than nausea. And what he had been waiting for was happening, he was relaxing into a blowjob.

His hands went for her hair immediately to lace his fingers in between whatever he could, gripping it gently while the relief showed through his half-lidded eyes and his happy pants. Stan let out a choked moan along with an excited but still cracking voice, “I don’t feel.. it! God, this is.. actually amazing… Please, please don’t stop… Keep going, [Y/N]!”

Bobbing your head up and down patiently, you picked up your pace minute by minute, watching as the boy lost it at the feeling. You were too good to him. Your suction on him was tight and you made sure your cheeks were pressed up against your teeth just enough to create the best possible experience for him.

Stan’s chin tilted up to the ceiling while curses spilled, “Fuck, fuck, why do you… have to feel so good?” You could see veins popping around his neck and his Adam’s apple moving up and down from the noises escaping him. His legs were starting to move inward towards themselves, knees about to touch, and his dick was beginning to throb in your mouth. You knew what this meant right away.

“I’m not going to be able to make it for that long if you feel this amazing, god damn it,” he choked out, his fingers digging into your scalp, but not on purpose. To solve this, you popped your mouth off of him and decided to use the time for his cool down to catch your breath.

He looked at you, confused and flustered, his dick inches away from your face. It was twitching and the pre-cum kept leaking because of how pent up he was. You snickered, “I thought you were going to get sick on me? Am I the first one you haven’t vomited on?”

Staring at you for a moment while catching his breath too, he fixed his messy hair, and shakily replied, “Yeah, technically.” You raised your eyebrows before smiling bashfully like that was a compliment. And maybe it was. But, you shouldn’t get too ahead of yourself.

Returning back to the activity at hand, you littered the sides of him with kisses, turning your focus to the veins wrapping around it which received a lot of feedback from him. “Woah, woah! Straight to it, huh?” His groans were amplified. It was like he got ten times more sensitive because you edged him.

It didn’t take much of you going back to sucking him to cause his orgasm rushing back. He was teetering on the edge, using the counter and anything else that he could grab on to vent by digging his fingernails into them.

Tears brimmed his eyes and he didn’t want to tell you that he was near, but he also didn’t want you to have a risk of choking. So, he confessed again, “I’m going to! I’m going to, you can stop…” He didn’t know why you were teasing him like this. But, for some reason, he enjoyed it too.

This time, you didn’t pull away. You picked up your pace instead. And that made him nearly knock off everything on the counter. He instinctively stood up, grabbing your head, and in the last final minute he had your mouth wrapped around him; he fucked hard into your throat and let out the cum he had been penting up since the last time he got to interact with you.

The groans that left him were loud and breathy, his eyes almost closing from how tired he got because of the amount of alcohol that was in his system. You were swallowing as much as you could to keep yourself from possibly throwing up yourself due to choking.

Eventually, every bit was dumped out of him and he pulled you off to let you breathe. You gasped for air and glared at him. Stan realizing what he did then and apologizing right away, “Oh crap, I didn’t mean to do that! I was trying to be careful, I’m so sorry!”

Proceeding to apologize to you for the rest of the night after that, the two of you had returned to walking each other home, feeling a long in your heart to remain by each other’s sides when you had to return to your separate dorm rooms. One thing was for certain though. You and Stan were going to have a lot of secrets that the title friends could only cover.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✧ End of Scenario ✧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

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#2 ; Kyle Broflovski

The song that I thought fit this best :

Sexual Dynamic : Vanilla-esque.

What's in here : Slow sex, slightly experienced Kyle, and facial ejaculation.

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- Oh no. Here we go. Now, Kyle, he’s a different story when it comes to getting into a friendship like this.

- He’d probably be easier to convince than Stan, but that’s if you were direct and honest with him.

- You’d have to be somewhat close with him enough to get to that conversation so I would say about five months into meeting him through mutual friends at the lunch tables. At some point, both of you would come across each other and have an in-depth conversation.

- He’s a sucker for intellectual people so once you’re bringing up your collections of books and the fact you make regular visits to the library, this guy’s interest shoots through the roof.

- Eventually, you’re the only thing he starts talking about with his friends and they all start to notice him drifting off in daydreams during class.

- This was about a couple of weeks into the friendship.

- The nerd just couldn’t stop eyeballing you. It didn’t help that he really admired your style and the way you dressed as well.

- Stan pulled him to the side one day to have a talk with him about you and he managed to convince the curly redhead to ask you to hangout at his place.

- The idea was that he was going to watch a whole marathon of Harry Potter movies with you considering the two of you were huge fans of the series.

- You were immediately down as soon as he asked. If anything, you were cheering to yourself about it.

- Now, you could put your plan in action.

- The truth was that you had thought of the Broflovski in many ways that would be considered beyond unholy.

- And the fact his parents were going out for the weekend you were coming over too did not help the ideas popping up in your head.

- When it came upon the day you were coming over, you decided to put on your sexiest outfit yet.

- A short tennis skirt, a laced spaghetti-strapped crop top, and a pair of thigh highs was enough to do the trick.

- You arrived at his place a couple of minutes early but just enough to where you didn’t look crazy, secretly wearing nothing underneath on purpose for him.

- He had paid Stan to babysit Ike for him that day too.

- You were not the only one plagued with not-so-innocent thoughts the entire week leading up to it. Kyle had some things planned out in his head as well. Technically, a mutual agreement without saying a word.

- Kyle was fast in opening the door for you and once he saw what you were in, the red on his face was more than visible.

- Obviously, he couldn’t hide the fact he was staring and definitely interested in the sight you were giving him.

- He locked every lock on that door as soon as you got inside.

┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✧ Start of Scenario ✧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You hopped onto his couch the moment the warmth of the house enveloped you, causing you to sigh in content. The freezing temperatures of South Park made it impossible for a girl to get pretty but you weren’t letting that stop you. Your eyes landed back on Kyle who was dressed in a green long sleeve and brown pants.

His outfit was super cute, less risqué than yours, however, that did not matter. He still looked like a snack to you. And you were already willing to lunge for him. But, you kept your distance. For now.

The boy sat next to you and relaxed into the cushions along with, being the one to break the silence by complimenting what you were wearing, “I swear, you choose outfits that fit you too well sometimes.” Benefits of talking to a guy with brains was the way they word things. “You’re not helping my barely growing teenage brain here,” he added on as a joke. A part of you knew that he wasn’t entirely bluffing though.

This was proven when you glanced down at his lap to check if there was a sign and sure enough, a rising tent had appeared.

Kyle, quick to notice things, saw that you had peeked and grabbed for a pillow to sit it over his crotch. Embarrassed that he didn’t think of doing that as soon as his mind went south.

But, you weren’t going to ignore that. You couldn’t. Your eagerness was too much for you and the heat between your legs was screaming for you to get to moving. So, you huffed out, “I don’t think I want to help. I’m here for encouragement…” While scooting yourself to replace the pillow on his lap with your ass instead.

He tensed up, sucking a breath in, and using his hands to grip your hips. You could feel his boner poking your inner thigh, about to brush the spot you wanted it to the most which got you even more excited.

Kyle was just as excited, jabbering on as soon as you pressed down into him, “I was hoping you would say that. I didn’t think I could just be friends with you as much as I wouldn’t like to admit that…” His hips bucked upward into you repeatedly, rocking himself into a position where his hard-on could rub against you perfectly. Your eyes widened and a moan slipped out.

The front of his pants was starting to get wet from grinding up into your bare pussy, causing him to notice, and ask, “Are you wearing anything under that?” You shook your head no while biting your lip, moving one of your hands to grab your breast and the other to lift up your skirt.

He watched what you were doing with an aroused look to his green eyes, staring at your chest often. This gave you the idea to strip off your top and throw it to the floor.

What a good idea it was because it made Kyle leap to tug his pants off. His boxers followed with and out sprang his dick, hitting his chest from how hard it got. The freckled boy panted, a blush everywhere on his body, matching the color of his hair. He was unbelievably attractive like this.

You leaned down next to his ear to whisper while grabbing his shaft, “I’ve been wanting you inside me ever since Sophomore year.” Before pushing it inside of you and lowering yourself all the way down until you were sitting right on his v-line.

He shuddered and gripped onto you tightly, digging his head back into the couch from the pleasure that rushed through him at the warm, wet feeling wrapping around.

“You should’ve said something because I would’ve made that come true,” he said. That was the last thing that was spoken as the two of you got lost in sex. You began to bounce on him and he guided you to grind during the process. Your eyes drifting everywhere, going from dazing off at the wall, to looking at him without a single thought in the world other than how good he was making you feel.

Kyle was in the same state. Admiring you by skimming his hands across your sides and using his fingers to play with your nipples. After riding him for a couple of minutes and starting to sweat from the workout it was giving you, he flipped you to rest back onto the armrest.

He slowly rocked his dick into you, pushing into your walls, and digging for spots that made you gasp. His groans ended up being muffled into your neck as he buried himself in the crook of it, kissing against your skin, and creating hickies once he traveled enough.

During his slow fucking, he drifted his thumb over to your clit and rubbed it at a good pace that matched his thrusts. It had you constricting yourself around him until you were a shaking mess, cumming underneath his figure, and riding out the high with him.

The green-eyed boy pulled out when you finished, jerking himself off at a fast speed, and asking politely, “Can you open your mouth and level with it please?” Without hesitation, you lowered yourself to his dick and let him release all over your face.

You stuck your tongue out, feeling the sticky liquid decorate most of it before you swallowed the bit that landed there, looking up at him with a smile.

Both of you had to clean up more than watch movies after that, but that did not matter to you, whatsoever. The only thing that mattered from that point was the next weekend you had to plan with the Broflovski.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✧ End of Scenario ✧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

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#3 ; Kenny McCormick

The song that I thought fit this best :

Sexual Dynamic : Masc!Dom | Fem!Sub

What’s in here : Praise/ degrading kink, lots and lots of positions, public sex, and a creampie.

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- Well, well, well. What most of you’ve been waiting for. The guy that obviously will take no time in making you his fuck buddy!

- It’s pretty obvious that right away he made his intentions clear and he communicated them with no problem.

- And that’s exactly why you were into him.

- Kenny has an eye for girls that like to have a fun time and you happened to be one with a big reputation of rebellion.

- You loved ditching class, hating the kids, the work being too stressful, and all of the above was the reason why.

- And he was often caught back there as well. So, sooner or later, you came across each other on one of your breaks from the shitty school environment and took it together.

- Might have ended up in the mutual agreement of being FWB’s right then and there which lead to you giving the boy his first non-std infected blowjob.

- The thing that had gotten in your way, however, was the fact you had strict parents and this meant you had no way of getting out of the house to meet up with him.

- To make things worse and add the cherry on top, this started around the end of the school year and the both of you ended up having no way to contact each other because of this.

- Those two months for both you and Kenny were perhaps one of the most depressing periods of time in your life.

- After dealing with this, College had started and your parents began to let you have more freedom because you were becoming an adult.

- You were frustrated at the timing, the blonde-haired boy on the back of your mind the entire time they spoke to you about it. And the more you had longed to see him again.

- The first day of College arrived some time later and you had no idea what to expect.

- There was an uneasy feeling. You knew that Kenny wasn’t financially well off and you didn’t know if he was good grade-wise so it left you with the weight of finding out whether or not he was attending.

- Throughout the whole school day, you looked for him, high and low, low and high. Everywhere.

- He wasn’t in any single one of your classes. None of his friends were too. It seemed like all hope was lost and that the inevitable had happened.

- But, before you could end up back in that same pit of sadness, during the walk out of one of your classes to go to another; you passed by the stairs and someone grabbed you.

- Not knowing who it was, you put up a bit of a fight, losing pretty badly considering the person was quite strong, ending up behind the crevice of the stairs anyway.

- When you came face-to-face with the man that dragged you away, you squealed for joy.

- It was, of course, the McCormick.

- Both of you collided into a huge hug and stayed there for a while, cherishing each other’s warmth and smell.

- He’ll always have that faint smell of weed on him, but, it made him hotter in a way.

- It didn’t take long for the hug to turn into an elated talk.

┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✧ Start of Scenario ✧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Where have you been? How has life been treating you, Ken?” You asked while shoving his arm playfully, tilting your head to the side. He smirked at your behavior, finding it cute, before responding casually, “Honestly, it could be better. But, I’ve been doing okay. Now, that I’m getting to see my smokin’ hot babe again though, I think it’s more than great!” His nickname that he gave you made you crack up and blush at the same time.

Laughing along with you, he repeated the question, aiming it toward you this time. Your expression quickly dropped for a minute and when you remembered that he could pick up on that, you tried to play it off, “Oh, yeah! Uh, I’ve been okay too. Just been working my ass off in keeping my room clean so my parents won’t take my phone for the millionth time.”

A sigh left him hearing that and he clicked his tongue in disappointment, shaking his head side to side while leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Still dealing with them? Damn, I’m all for parents making sure their kids are doing what they’re supposed to and actually taking care of em’, but, when you’re practically shoving your nose in their ass, that’s a problem,” he complained.

You agreed, “Tell me about it.” Rolling your eyes, you copied his body language by leaning too. Having dealt with them being this way since twelve, he didn’t even know half of it.

Silence began to fall onto your ears as Kenny opted for staring at you other than continue the conversation, his blue eyes scanning down your body, ultimately going for his perverted tendencies by lingering on your breasts a little too long. You snickered in response to this, “Really? You’re going to stare? You know you have hands, right pretty boy?”

Teasing him was just what you needed to do to make him budge as the McCormick turned to pin you to the wall, leaning down to get to your eye level. He gave you a small, soft kiss on the lips before pulling away to began lifting your shirt up above your head with a retort, “You should watch what you’re saying or else you’re going to end up being humiliated in front of a whole bunch of people, [Y/N].” So, he was saying your name now?

You decided you wanted to see if he would go that far by testing him, snaking your hand up to his waistband before shoving it inside of his pants without any struggle. Starting to rub him through his boxers right away, Kenny let out a grunt and pressed his forehead against yours while his brows furrowed.

Your voice lowered only for him to hear what you were telling him, “Do it. Fuck me so hard that everybody will know who’s screwing me that good.” His breath got shaky at that and you felt his cock throb in your hold.

He started tugging at his pants, bringing them down to his ankles along with his underwear from how eager he was after hearing what you said. A feeling of regret haunted you for a second when you glanced at the size of him, forgetting how huge he was until you got to see it in front of you.

But, that was overshadowed by how horny it also made you. Your own shorts were being thrown to the ground with the rest of the clothes. Eventually, leaving you both naked in front of each other.

Kenny was the quickest into getting in action, massaging your tits with both of his hands while moving his mouth to latch onto your neck. He made a couple of hickies working his way to your collarbone, running his fingers from your nipple to what’s in between your legs to rub your clit in circles for a minute.

Getting bored with this, he switched it up by continuously kissing lower and lower. Still sucking on certain spots to get it to bruise. He was marking you up and you were enjoying every single one. You moaned softly, trying to keep quiet, but loud enough for him to hear. After all, you didn’t want to actually get spotted doing this with him and end up expelled.

When he got to your pussy, his arms slid into the crevices of your thighs before he lifted both of them, spreading them across the wall. Then his mouth put all of the attention onto it.

Kenny licked your folds repeatedly at first to get a taste of your juices, gliding his tongue over your sensitive bud, and swirling it in a pattern to get you to make more noises for him. You were restless, grinding up into his face, and tugging onto his hair the moment he got to flicking side-to-side.

He went at it for a couple, causing you to cover your mouth midway through because of how much your voice was raising. It felt amazing. Like you were floating from how good his technique was.

Covering you with his spit from how messy he ate you out, you jutted your hips up and began to grind on his face. Around his mouth was a mess, spreading to his nose, and cheeks. He looked deep into your eyes the whole time he did it and switched to sucking your clit for the finale.

The blonde-haired boy got you to cum from that alone. Letting you roll on him like he was your new personal chair and smother his head with your thighs until pure bliss was the one thing showing in his expression.

Your juices spilled onto him, some landing where his dick was which worked out for lubrication in the long run. He stood back up, glistening in the sun from all the wetness, telling you with a smooth tone, “Turn around for me and put that ass up, baby.”

With shaky legs from the orgasm you had, you did what he said and bent over, your cheek pressed up on the cold bumpy surface. “Look at that… You’re being such a good little whore for your best friend,” Kenny cooed while grabbing your head and pushing you up against it; positioning himself with your entrance and sliding in easily. The both of you moaned out in satisfaction.

You had been waiting for him to do this to you for so long. And it didn’t hurt as bad as you thought it would. In fact, the big size and girth gave you the feeling of being full.

He sent loud slaps through the wall once he rammed his first set of thrusts into you, being fucked aggressively in doggy style despite you not being far from your peers and a death sentence from your parents.

The wet sounds mixing along with it didn’t help. And you were so sensitive that it made it impossible for you to hold your breath. The whining, yelps, and panting all at a high enough pitch that it was beginning to echo. You were going to get caught if he didn’t finish soon. Both of you would. But, for some reason, that didn’t sound as threatening as it should.

Your sense of danger was dulled from how hard he was railing you. And how turned on you were from it. Like he had molded you into being stupid for the time being.

You raked your nails on the wall and arched your back more, pleading out to him, “Faster, Kenny! Please, hurry up… I don’t want to get in trouble!” He paused as if he wasn’t expecting to hear that, but responded once it registered, “Okay, though you asked for this…”

Quickening his pace, your eyes shut and you used your hand to muffle yourself by biting onto it, crying out from his dick practically reaching into your stomach. He groaned, watching the display for himself to memorize, and slightly impressed at how dirty this hook-up was. You were going to be his favorite, for sure.

His end began to near around the time the bell was about to ring again, people about to fill the halls any second now while you’re being pummeled by the biggest pervert in school. You murmured curses quietly, feeling him grab both of your wrists while chasing his high as fast as he could. Tears left your eyes when Kenny finally reached it.

He didn’t pull out. Instead, he fucked his jizz inside of you and pumped every last drop he could. “Fuck! Fuck, that’s right… Take as much as you fucking can.” His dirty words were like music to your ears and the way his cum filled you to the brim made you hum. Drool dripping down the side of your mouth from how out of it you were.

Although, he was put in a tricky situation considering you could no longer walk and he possibly could’ve got you pregnant, a huge derpy smile stayed on Kenny’s face for the rest of the time he was with you. No one had seen him that happy ever. So, there was a lot of questions you had to answer when the boy ended up confessing that it was because of you. Who knew it was so hard to keep a secret with the McCormick.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✧ End of Scenario ✧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

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#4 ; Craig Tucker

The song that I thought fit this best :

Sexual Dynamic : Masc!Sub | Masc!Dom

What’s in here : Yandere Craig (doing it cause I felt like it), mentions of murder, rough/painful sex, and a cumshot with a creampie.

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- Well fuck, this guy had known you for so long that he could barely remember when he first met you.

- But, that didn’t mean you two were close.

- You were simply friends from afar before ending up complete nobodies to each other around the time college came about.

- Or that’s what you thought.

- Craig had only stopped talking to you, he didn’t completely stop from hanging around you.

- Meaning that he would often drop by the places he knew you were hanging around to sit nearby and watch what you would do.

- This wouldn’t be creepy if it weren’t for the fact that the only place you liked to be inside was your dorm room. So, he was watching you from your window.

- It was easy for him considering the two of you were neighbors and whenever he wasn’t occupied with his love life, he’d be lost in staring at you playing the guitar or even go as far as watching you change.

- At some point, his infatuation with you peaked after coming across a late night masturbation session you were having, forgetting to close the blinds which let him have access to the scene.

- You had no shirt on, your pants barely above your knees, watching something on your computer screen. And his body was quick to react when he looked down.

- He got an idea to bring out his camera and record you, taking the moment to have fun himself.

- After jerking off and cumming around the same time with you, muttering your name in the middle of it, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to sit beside and just watch you forever.

- With an entire month of constantly recording you, breaking into your room and taking some of your clothes. Even stealing pencils that you broke out of boredom from the trash to keep in his drawer and watching you get drunk until you hooked up with random woman. Craig spiraled downward into an unhealthy obsession.

- He couldn’t stand it when seeing you flirt with girls despite knowing that you had no knowledge of his existence.

- If you took them home or went home with them, they would end up missing the next day.

- Craig didn’t know why he did it. He just simply felt the motive. Maybe it was because they were girls and he was a boy or maybe because he was in love with you. Honestly, he didn’t want to think on it.

- It got out that some of these woman were disappearing around your area and you ended up finding out it was the ones you hooked up with when the police were at your door.

- You were questioned and put as the number one suspect because you were the last person seen with them. And this confused and scared you badly.

- The police were convinced you were telling the truth by the way you reacted to the interrogation. Answering all of their questions sincerely, even telling them details of that night you had with them but not going too far to where it was weird.

- Also, the devastation on your face was easy to see. So they left you alone.

- However, this haunted you and you became desperate on trying to find out more about what happened to the girls by asking around. As well as waiting for more information from the investigation.

- The black-haired boy had to keep a low profile after and thanked himself for dumping the bodies in the lake further ahead of time.

- He was oddly disappointed in himself because of what he had done. Not because he had taken the lives away from innocent girls, but because he made your life become so hectic and had you go through so much stress.

- After the ordeal was dying down and the cops were coming to a dead end, the cases went cold and Craig went about his daily life of stalking you once again.

- You did not come back from this okay. Actually, it lead you to distancing from people romantically and sexually because you were afraid they would disappear.

- Landing you in therapy to get over the traumatic experience and depression that was swallowing you whole. Making you lose all of your friends and end up alone.

- And who would’ve known that Craig happened to need to go to the same therapist too? After his parents had found him talking to a wall and carving an initial into himself, your initial.

- He was admitted out of self harm. But, really, he was coping with the fact he couldn’t follow you during the search for the kidnapper of your flings.

- This gave him an opportunity to get to know you though as you crossed paths often when waiting in the lobby for appointments.

- One day, he told himself he was going to try and greet you. It should be easy because you both used to know each other, right?

- But this lead to him dodging it as soon as he got near you.

- You could be thirty feet away and Craig was standing there, panicking in his head, his face the exact opposite with barely any emotion present. Contradicting his stoicism, his heartbeat was racing.

- Your eyes had glanced over and ended up locking with his, raising a brow like you were questioning him.

- Then he saw you get up and began to head over to him.

- He became extremely nervous and excited all at the same time, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath to ready himself before you were right in front of him.

- His blue eyes were intense and burrowed themselves into your head as you got to finally talk to the guy you’d been seeing around.

- Might have been an socializing assignment your therapist gave you so you can repair your relationship with people. Fucked up considering he’s the one that ruined it in the first place.

┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✧ Start of Scenario ✧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“I remember you! You’re the guy that lived in my neighborhood! Your name’s Craig, right?” You gave him a chipper smile, taking off your headphones to rest them on your shoulders. Craig had froze and stared at you blankly before rushing to find something to respond with, “Uh, yeah, I happen to be that guy.” It came out more awkward than he had wanted it to but who could blame him? He was talking to the boy he had been immensely infatuated with for months now who was acting extremely casual.

You laughed in victory at the correct guess and placed out a hand for him to shake, telling him why you approached, “That’s great! I had been looking for some more friends actually as I’ve went through something a little while ago and it’s left me a bit lonely. You think you could be my friend?”

He didn’t know how to register what you were saying but he wasn’t upset about it in the slightest. Although, his mind wasn’t concluding this as you two being ‘friends’. Grabbing your hand, he shook it and forgot to not put so much force, ending up yanking you a little too forward.

Your face collided with his chest due to losing your balance, making him catch you, and help you regain it by making you hug him. It didn’t help that you were at his height too because as soon as you pulled back, your nose was almost touching his. His eyes were back to burning themselves into yours, an electric feeling running through you at the moment. ‘Why did he look at me like that?’ you wondered, ‘Like I’m the most interesting thing in the world.’

Craig had to hold himself back from doing anything stupid and last minute, tensing up and slowly getting you to move back to where you were by grabbing both of your shoulders. You blinked rapidly and muttered out an apology, “My bad, I didn’t mean to fall into you and stay there, you just got really pretty eyes man.” That wasn’t a lie, you did think the color was super nice to look at.

But this compliment hit him way harder than it should’ve. And he found himself beginning to blush, blurting out a compliment back before he could think, “So are yours.”

The both of you were becoming flustered, looking at each other for a minute until you thought of another topic to talk about, trying to save yourself from spawning a crush on the guy. “So, what do you like to do in your spare time?” you went for that. And instead of answering, he asked you another question, “Do you smoke?”

Your eyes went wide as you watched him reach into his pocket and pull out a blunt the size of a finger, staring at it in disbelief. This was the weirdest interaction you’ve had yet. And how did he know that you were okay with that? And smoked weed? Did you smell like it? All these questions ran through your head but at some point, you had to answer him, and free drugs were a hard thing to come by, so you were honest, “Yeah, I do.”

A part of you felt pumped about it while another was a bit weirded out. However, you forgot about it quickly as soon as the blue-eyed man started walking away. You began to follow behind him, keeping up enough to watch his back the entire way, and admiring the trees every second or so when you got bored.

It was quiet. Not a word exchanged between them. That was because Craig was over his head. He was piecing something together in his thoughts, forming a plan, one that wasn’t what you would call sane. But, that was because he simply wasn’t. He couldn’t pretend like he hadn’t been thinking of you in a certain way for a long time. Like he hadn’t killed for you because of it.

As he lead you to a nearby alleyway he went to when he wanted to watch you in private, his back turned and he was facing you again. This place was damp and dark, the smell not the best, but it was away from society. And that was perfect for this.

The ravenette rested against the wall and lifted the blunt in between his fingers to rest right on his lips before reaching into his pocket to pull out a lighter. He lit the end of it, resting the flame on the tip for a couple of seconds as he sucked in a huge cloud that left his mouth the second he blew it out.

Holding it out to you afterward, a trail of smoke drifted from the cherry while you took it in your own two fingers. You took a hit from it just like he did, knowing that this was a really good kind as soon as you tasted how smooth the bud was. Your eyes closed and you held it in for five seconds before letting it out until all the air escaped your lungs so you didn’t die from coughing.

Hissing through your teeth, you ended up still letting out a grunt and cleared your throat to ease the burn in the back of your throat. “Shit, that’s a pretty good strain, what is it?” you asked in the middle of your struggle.

Craig took another drag and doubled it while responding nonchalantly like it was nothing, “It’s called Azul. I grew it.” He glanced down at the blunt to check on its burning status and decided it needed another light.

After getting it bright again, he handed it back to you and let you take a couple more puffs, putting his hands in his pockets. An impressed look crossed your face and what he said piqued your curiosity, you asked like you didn’t believe him, “Really?? You’re a grower? Don’t you go to my school and dorms?” It seemed you were going to get along with this guy way more than you thought you would.

More time passed as the two of you progressively got higher and higher each pass, ending up with you laughing contagiously at a joke he had made about a lady that passed by. You would’ve normally quietly chuckled and try to contain it because of how mean it was as you didn’t want to feel bad. But, the state you were in was more than relaxed.

A small smile appeared on Craig while he watched you lose it, “Dude! That’s so messed up… Come on!” You hit his arm and rested your head on his shoulder from being out of it, mumbling into his sweater. He put out the blunt then because he knew that any more would be way too much. Once you got to lift your head and rest your chin on him, he turned his toward you.

He looked down, so close that you could feel his breath brushing against you, and that made your heart stop. Muttering quietly, his questions took a turn that you didn’t expect, “Have you ever kissed a guy before?” Almost instantly, you could feel your dick starting to rise, causing you to cover it with your hand while responding in an unsure tone, “No…”

When your eyes flickered down to his lips after the mention of it though, he was fast to press them against yours. You didn’t resist but you didn’t return it either. Letting him softly kiss you before he pulled away to conclude, “Now you have. How did it feel?”

It was like the oxygen had left you. You couldn’t wrap your mind around why you liked that so much. And the fact he tasted like raspberries was not helping. Was a guy really going to be the one that gave you the best kiss of your life?

He frowned when you took forever to answer, sighing through his nose, and pulling away with a rejected tone, “Fuck, well, sorry I made you question your sexuality, [Y/N].” Before he could get far, you grabbed his collar and made him go back to where he was but ended up overestimating how far you were tugging him. He stumbled forward and pushed you up against the wall, both of his hands landing on both sides of your head to catch himself while your noses touched.

Craig held a glare with you, confused. He didn’t understand why you weren’t saying anything but also refusing to kiss him back as well. Were you into it? Did you want to? You still couldn’t open your mouth to put it into words, in denial about what was happening. But, you gave him something to let him know that it wasn’t bad by returning the kiss gently.

You were barely brushing up into him like you were shy of the action. And he understood that it was because you hadn’t done it in a while so he savored what he could. You were kissing him. Finally, he had gotten what he wanted. He was the one locking lips with you. Not anybody else.

His hands drifted to your sides, slowly moving to your waist so he could hook his fingers at the bottom of your shirt. Knowing where this was going, a knot formed in your throat and you placed your hands on his chest to push him away. “I don’t know if I can go that far,” you finally said something. It wasn’t because you didn’t want to. It was because you couldn’t stop worrying about his safety. All that you could think about was his name in the news headlines and pictures of his chullo hat covered in blood laying in some bushes.

Your breathing went out of control and he could tell you were about to go into a panic attack, wrapping his arms around you as soon as he saw the signs, remembering them from the times you were in your dorm room crying about the interrogation months ago.

There was that guilty feeling in his chest. It made his heart heavy. He didn’t want you to feel like this. Especially when all this worry was for nothing. So, he decided to mumble out the best reassurance he could think of, “I don’t know what’s going on with you. I have no idea what had happened to that friendship we had for a minute back then too. You’ve been out of the loop for quite a while, [Y/N].” He moved back to stare directly at you with sincerity in his voice, “All I know is that kissing someone has never felt so right and if I could, can I make you feel safe enough to trust me with your body for tonight?”

That was the most convincing someone has ever been. And this high helped you calm yourself while using the breathing techniques your therapist gave. You bit your bottom lip before sighing out in frustration, looking around at where you were, and then exclaiming, “Fine! But, can we please do it somewhere else other than a fucking disgusting alleyway?”

Craig stared at you like you were crazy until his face twisted from holding back laughter, ending up bursting at the seams anyway as it sputtered out of him. “You’re right. This isn’t the place to be screwing a pretty boy like you,” he slyly said as he began to head out of the alleyway. You ran after him, trying to brush off what he said but still feeling the butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Eventually, the two of you made it inside of your dorm room, the Tucker locking the door behind you with a snide remark, “So, are you going to answer my question from earlier? How was kissing a boy for the first time?”

You forgot about that. Your mind flashing back to the memory of the kiss, vividly remember how soft his lips were, and how patient he was in his pace. He was aggressive but soft. A perfect mixture. Snapping out of it, you stammered out, “I hadn’t kissed someone in quite a while… Or well, a girl. And it was always quick-paced like they were in a rush to get to the good parts. But with you… Well, with a boy, it was like you couldn’t get enough. That, I think, made it practically impassable.”

What you said made Craig sit in your computer chair and stare at you in awe, reaching his hand up to pull off his hat, and placing it down on your desk. He reached out his hand for yours now and murmured, “Come over here and sit.” You walked over to him and took it, about to actually prop yourself down onto his lap before he stopped you right as you were. “Wait. I need to fix something,” he said as he went to unbutton your pants.

Taking in a sharp inhale through your nose , his hands wasted no time in tugging them off along with your boxers. “Fuck, you move fast. Hold on, let me prepare myself at least,” you sounded embarrassed and you were because your hard-on was so visible. He chuckled at that, “Okay then. I’ll get myself undressed while you can work on getting those off.”

Your eyes couldn’t help but get a look at Craig starting to take his jacket and shirt off, automatically checking him out, and to your surprise, he was pretty built. He noticed you staring and teased, “If you want to see all of it, get to moving, I want to see you too.” That was a bargain you couldn’t say no to, holding your breath as you gripped around the hem of your boxers.

Then you pulled them off, letting them fall to your ankles, tugging your shirt off afterward to get it out of the way. The only thing left on you was your socks and the same was for him a couple of seconds later.

He eyed you up and down with his blue orbs, reaching for your wrist, and pulling you back into touching your knees with his. Both of his hands placed onto your shoulders and began lowering you down until you were coming face-to-face with his huge dick, watching it twitch with a slightly ajar mouth.

“You’re going to have to get it wet if you want to go any further, pretty boy,” he whispered, grabbing your chin to guide your mouth toward him. You couldn’t believe you were doing this, opening wide before taking the tip and wrapping your lips around it. Craig grunted and put a hand on your head, gripping onto your hair to deal with the pleasure.

The texture was different than you expected to feel on your tongue but it was also satisfying in a way. And it didn’t take long for you to get into swallowing most of his length, easing it into your throat, and tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum the more you sucked.

Grabbing harder onto you, he moved his hips upward and made all of his dick go down into your mouth. This caused you to gag and jolt backward, coughing and making a face at him. “What the fuck, man,” you angrily said and got back up onto your feet.

However, Craig was extremely impatient by this point and he could no longer hold up the soft facade he had with you anymore. He stood up with you and within seconds, you were slammed down into your bed while his hand dug into your neck, tightening around your throat to make you choke more than you had on him.

Noises squeaked out of you while the air was leaving you, his other hand positioning himself to your ass and spitting on it to get you ready. He rubbed it around and made you shudder, having never been touched there which caused it to feel super sensitive.

He made both of your legs wrap around his waist once his tip began to push inside, slowly stretching your hole out as you grabbed his wrist to try and pull his hand off of you. It hurt so bad. His size bigger than most so it made it almost numbing the more he slid into you. Your eyes were struggling to stay open as you were close to passing out from the loss of oxygen.

That’s what made him stop. He removed his hand from your neck and balled up both of them into fists, punching them into the pillow your head was resting on while rearing his hips back. He made his entire dick slide out before forcing it back in, making it feel like he was tearing your ass apart from the roughness. You screamed out, “FUCK! CRAIG! WAIT! WAIT, IT HURTS!”

Slapping a hand to cover your mouth, he continued to ram himself over and over into you, watching you take him with several groans slipping out. He was frantic in his movements and made your bed sound like it was about to give up underneath the strength he put into fucking you.

He made you forget about the anxiety alright. Letting you know why you didn’t have to be afraid of him being taken away but rather be afraid of him altogether. At the same time, you were being fucked into liking it. The sweat, slapping from the colliding of skin, and the shaking of your legs set up the perfect scenery for him. He got to see you fucked out underneath him, because of him, all for him. And that was all he needed.

Leaning into your neck, he finally came to a slow pace and rocked up into your walls, gliding his fingers down your chest to play with your tip and the pre-cum on it. Craig was giving you a break, wrapping his palm around the base of your dick until he was pumping it up and down at the exact pace he was thrusting into you. The combined pleasure was enough to get you to moan out in relief, “Much better… Oh, god, that’s much better…”

Another rare smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he moaned with you, burying all of his length for a moment before pulling back again to quicken his speed. “That’s what happens when you’re being a good fuck toy,” he praised. Jerking you off faster and faster as well.

You buried your head into the pillow and felt him start to kiss around your Adam’s apple, littering them around until his teeth brushed around a spot that made you jump. When he found it, he bit into the sensitive area and that caused everything in you to unravel. Your cum shot out on your chest and landed in between his fingers, spreading across his hand, and some even getting on his lower stomach.

He continued to rail himself in you for another long minute before reaching his end alongside you, the warm fluid escaping him with a loud growl, “[Y/N]! Shit… You’re so.. fucking… perfect.” Once he was finished completely and everything had emptied out into your hole, he slid his dick out. Letting the cum spill out onto your sheets while collapsing next to you to rest. The both of you stared at each other in a daze for the last moments you managed to stay awake and as you were about to pass out, Craig had confessed to you, “I think I love you…”

╚═════════════════════╝

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Sorry for any errors or misspellings! I had tried to rush through this little thing when I saw it was getting too long so progressively, it might’ve got worse. But, this is overall what I’ve been working on for a couple and I hope you enjoyed!

Stick around for some more if you want! I got plenty where that came from. And if you like the other fandoms I’m interested in, you would definitely want to follow. I’ll be releasing a lot of those soon!

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fuqnia · 12 days ago

Text

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

#south park x reader #south park x y/n #sp oneshot #stan marsh x reader #south park smut #x reader #i wanna be your boyfriend m!list

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