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fuqnia · 10 days ago

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I Thought I Was Unique (2) ₊˚⊹♡

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

♡ A/N | this part is so fuckin weak, i'm sorry 💀 but it's funny i think! as usual this is long.

♡ C/W | nsfw (18+), all characters are aged up! fighting, inexperienced reader, p in v, oral sex (male receiving), bjs, reader is still stoopid (?), virginity loss

♡ Synopsis | kyle didn’t mean for it to go this far. he didn’t mean to fall for you, didn’t mean to let jealousy and frustration ruin everything. but now, after the party, after the fight, he can’t take it back—and neither can you.

event masterlist | part one

The text from Stan had been simple: “Hey, the guys wanna hang out tonight. Just us, no drama. Kyle won’t be there, promise.” You’d stared at it for a while, guilt twisting in your stomach. You hadn’t just been avoiding Kyle—you’d been avoiding all of them, and they didn’t deserve that. So, against your better judgment, you’d agreed. When Stan pulled up outside your dorm, you grabbed your bag and headed downstairs, only to freeze in your tracks the second you saw Kyle sitting in the passenger seat. Without a word, you spun on your heel and started walking back to your building, your chest tight with anger and dread. But before you could get far, Kenny leaned out the open truck window, shouting, “Oh, come on, [Y/N]! Don’t be a buzzkill!” His tone was light, but you caught the edge of exasperation, and it was enough to stop you. With a resigned sigh and a stomach full of regret, you turned back and climbed into the truck, the tension hitting like a slap the moment the door closed behind you.

The cab of Stan’s ancient, beat-up truck reeks of stale coffee, gym socks, and the kind of regret that only college drama can create. The cramped backseat feels like a torture chamber—Cartman’s elbow digs into your side while Kenny sprawls out, taking up more room than a human being should.

Up front, Kyle is a silent storm in the passenger seat. His arms are crossed, his jaw clenched so tightly you wonder if he’s grinding his teeth into dust. His curly hair catches the glow of the streetlights, but he refuses to turn around, refuses to look at you. Which is fine, because you refuse to look at him either.

Kenny broke the silence first, glancing sideways at you with a sly grin. “Sooo…” he started, drawing the word out. “You gonna tell us what happened at the party? Or are we just supposed to guess?”

Your stomach twisted, but you didn’t respond, your gaze fixed on the passing streetlights.

“Come on,” Kenny pressed, bumping your shoulder lightly. “I’m dying to know. You show up looking like a million bucks, and by the end of the night, your makeup’s running, and you’re crying like your dog just died. What gives?”

“Kenny, knock it off,” Stan snapped from the driver’s seat, shooting him a glare through the rearview mirror.

“I’m just saying,” Kenny said with a shrug, though his tone was too amused to be genuine. “It’s not like she’s been super talkative since she got in the truck. Figured someone should ask.”

Cartman grinned, leaning back and crossing his arms. “My money’s on Damien being an asshole. Or maybe it’s Kyle. Hell, maybe it’s both.” He glanced toward Kyle, who flinched but didn’t turn around. “Come on, Kahl, what’d you do this time?”

Kyle’s jaw tightened, his gaze locked out the window. “Leave it alone,” he muttered, his tone clipped.

Cartman’s grin widened. “Oh-ho! That’s a yes if I’ve ever heard one. What’d you say to her? Or better yet—what’d you do to her?”

“Cartman, shut the hell up,” Stan snapped, his fingers tightening on the wheel.

You sank deeper into your seat, the memories of the party flashing through your mind like jagged shards of glass. Kyle’s words upstairs—low and annoyed—echoed in your ears:

“Are we doing this, or not?”

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to block it out. The taste of rum still lingered faintly on your lips, mingling with the sting of tears. You could still feel the weight of his gaze on you, his pleading tone to talk it out as stumbled out of that room and down the stairs.

Stan’s voice pulled you back to the present. “Seriously, can we all just… not do this right now? It’s been a long week. Let’s just get to Cartman’s place and chill, okay?”

“Fat chance,” Cartman muttered, shooting you a sideways glance. “Not when you’ve got all this drama just sitting here, waiting to be unpacked. Like, seriously, [Y/N]. Are you even gonna say anything? Or are you planning to keep sulking all night?”

Your fingers dug into your arms as you fought the urge to snap back. But the words lodged in your throat, heavy and bitter.

When the silence stretched too long, Kenny leaned closer again, his grin teasing but not unkind. “For real, though. What happened? One minute you’re having a blast, and the next you looked like a goddamn emo album cover.”

Your hands clenched, your nails biting into your palms.

Kyle’s voice cut through the air, sharp and cold. “I said leave it alone.”

Kenny raised his eyebrows, leaning back slightly. “Touchy.”

Cartman snorted. “What are you, her simp now? Newsflash, dude: it’s not a good look. Makes you seem guilty as hell.”

Kyle’s head snapped around, his green eyes blazing as he glared at Cartman. “Say another word, and I swear to God—”

Stan groaned, slamming on the brakes and pulling over to the side of the road. The truck jolted to a stop, and the sudden silence was deafening.

“Out,” Stan barked, throwing the truck into park.

“What?!” Cartman squawked, his face twisting in outrage.

Stan twisted in his seat, his expression a mix of exhaustion and frustration. “Everybody out. Right now. I’m not driving another mile with this crap hanging in the air.”

Reluctantly, everyone climbed out, the cool night air biting against your skin. You shoved your hands into your jacket pockets, keeping your distance from Kyle, who stood stiffly on the other side of the truck.

Kenny leaned against the hood, grinning as if this was all some kind of game. “Alright,” he said, his tone light. “Who’s throwing the first punch?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you glanced down at your nails, picking at the edge of one like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. The chipped polish was starting to flake, and you focused on that, ignoring the weight of everyone’s stares.

Kyle broke the silence, his voice low but tense. “No one’s throwing punches, Kenny,” he said. “But maybe it’s time we talk about what really happened at the party.”

Your stomach twisted, and your head shot up. “Kyle, don’t.”

“Oh, I think we should,” Kyle said, his voice rising as he took a step closer. “Since everyone here seems so curious about why you came running downstairs crying your eyes out, let’s tell them. Should we?”

Cartman smirked, his gaze flicking between you and Kyle like he was front-row at the circus. “This oughta be good,” he said, folding his arms.

“Kyle,” Stan warned, his voice tight.

But Kyle wasn’t listening. He was locked on you, his green eyes filled with anger, betrayal, and something you didn’t want to name. “You begged me,” he said, his voice trembling. “You begged me to help you. To ‘show you,’ so you could be ready for Damien.”

“Kyle, stop!” you snapped, your heart pounding so hard it made your voice shake.

“You don’t get to stop me,” Kyle retorted, his voice cracking with emotion. “You dragged me upstairs. You said you trusted me. And like an idiot, I believed you.”

The knot in your chest tightened. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, his tone bitter. “Don’t tell me you didn’t mean it. You knew exactly what you were doing, [Y/N]. And then you ran off, crying, like I was the one who—” He broke off, running a hand through his curls, his frustration palpable.

“Jesus Christ,” Kenny muttered, wide-eyed. “What the hell happened up there?”

“That’s enough,” you said sharply, stepping forward, your hands shaking with a mix of anger and shame. “You don’t get to twist this around on me. You didn’t have to do it!”

Kyle let out a short, bitter laugh. “You’re kidding, right? You asked me to kiss you! You begged me to—”

Before he could finish, you shoved him hard in the chest. He stumbled back, his mouth snapping shut as he glared at you, his face flushed with a mix of anger and disbelief.

“Go to hell!” you yelled, your voice cracking as your eyes burned with unshed tears. Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and stormed back to the truck, your hands trembling.

“Holy shit,” Cartman muttered, a slow grin spreading across his face. “That was… wow. Do it again!”

“Cartman, shut the hell up!” Stan snapped, shoving him hard in the shoulder.

Kenny let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Well, that explains the whole ‘crying with messed-up makeup’ thing.”

Stan sighed, running a hand down his face. “This is why I didn’t want to do this tonight.”

Kyle stood frozen, his chest heaving as his gaze lingered on you. He looked like he wanted to say something—to shout, to argue—but instead, he turned away, his hands clenched at his sides.

“Dude,” Stan said softly, his tone hesitant. “Maybe you should—”

“I need some space,” Kyle muttered, cutting him off before walking off into the opposite direction of you, his shoulders stiff with barely restrained emotion.

Your chest heaved as you turned around and glared at his retreating figure, your vision blurring with unshed tears. The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them, raw and venomous.

“Good! Maybe some hobo will finally do the rest of us a favor and take you out, you selfish asshole!”

Kyle froze for a fraction of a second but didn’t turn around. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and kept walking, his silhouette disappearing under the glow of a distant streetlight.

You let out a shaky breath, the anger and humiliation coursing through you like wildfire. Without sparing a glance at the others, you yanked the door open and climbed in. The door slammed shut behind you with a loud bang that rattled the truck.

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest, and you slumped back against the seat, staring straight ahead. Your heart pounded in your ears, but the muffled voices outside were impossible to ignore.

“She didn’t mean that,” Stan said, his voice strained and uncertain. “Right? I mean, she couldn’t have.”

Cartman laughed, low and cruel. “Oh, she meant it. Did you see her face? She was ready to murder him.”

“Maybe she’s got a point,” Kenny muttered, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “Not about the hobo thing, but… damn, Kyle really didn’t hold back.”

“Neither did she,” Stan snapped, his frustration evident. “This is a mess. How the hell did it even get this bad?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to tune them out, but your thoughts refused to quiet. This is all my fault.

It was the truth. You’d dragged Kyle upstairs. You’d pushed him when he’d clearly been uncomfortable. And when things spiraled out of control—when he kissed you, when everything became too much—you’d fallen apart. You’d run away.

And now you were mad at him. For what? For telling the truth? For being hurt? For showing you a part of himself you weren’t ready to see?

Your throat tightened, and you hugged your arms closer to your body, as if that could keep the flood of emotions from spilling out.

Outside, the voices continued, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on the words. All you could think about was Kyle’s expression—the anger, the pain, the disappointment that had flickered across his face before he turned away.

He hates me now.

The thought hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the seat, and tried to steady your breathing.

I hate him too, you told yourself, though the words felt hollow.

The sound of muffled footsteps approached the truck, and you glanced out of the corner of your eye to see Kenny and Cartman making their way back. Cartman climbed in first, huffing as he shoved himself into the middle seat.

“Move over,” he grumbled, elbowing your side. “This isn’t the Cartman-crammed-in-the-corner show.”

You didn’t respond, shifting slightly to avoid his jabs but refusing to meet his gaze.

Kenny slid in next, shutting the door with a soft click. The truck dipped slightly under his weight as he sprawled back against the seat, sighing like he’d just run a marathon.

“Well,” Kenny said, breaking the silence, “that was awkward as hell. And by awkward, I mean absolutely insane.” He glanced at you, his blue eyes sharp despite the lazy smirk on his face. “You good, or should I call in a therapist?”

You stared straight ahead, your arms crossed so tightly it felt like you might snap in half. The last thing you wanted was to talk to Kenny, to Cartman, to anyone.

“Okay, cool,” Kenny said when you didn’t answer, leaning back like he wasn’t bothered. “Silent treatment it is.”

Cartman snorted, folding his arms. “What a shocker. She’s been pulling that act all night. Figures.”

You gritted your teeth but stayed quiet, focusing on the dashboard like it held the secrets to the universe.

“Hey, maybe she’s still thinking about that kiss,” Cartman said with a mocking grin, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. “What do you think, Kenny? Think Kyle’s a good kisser? Or was it all, like, sloppy and sad?”

Kenny laughed softly. “Cartman, you’re an asshole.”

“Yeah, well,” Cartman said, shrugging. “Somebody’s gotta keep things interesting. Not my fault she can’t handle a little constructive criticism.”

You clenched your fists, the urge to snap at him nearly overpowering, but you bit your tongue.

“Oh, she’s pissed,” Kenny said, leaning toward you slightly, his grin widening. “Look at her. Bet she’s dying to tell us off right now.”

“Yeah,” Cartman added, chuckling. “But she won’t. Wanna know why?” He paused dramatically, his grin growing smug. “’Cause she knows she screwed up. She just can’t admit it.”

“Cartman,” you finally said, your voice cold and sharp, “if you don’t shut up, I swear to God—”

“Oh, here it comes!” Cartman interrupted, throwing his hands up in mock excitement. “Go on, [Y/N]. Say it. Tell me how I’m wrong. Tell me Kyle’s the bad guy, or better yet—tell me Damien’s still your knight in shining armor.”

The mention of Damien sent a fresh wave of guilt and frustration crashing through you. Your nails dug into your palms as you forced yourself to look out the window, refusing to let him see the way his words stung.

The memory of that night surfaced, as vivid as if it had just happened. When you had stormed down the stairs, your face streaked with tears and makeup, the entire party had seemed to pause. Conversations faltered, and heads turned. You could feel their eyes burning into you—judging, whispering. Your boots clunked against the floor as you rushed toward the door, Kyle’s voice calling after you, but you didn’t stop.

Damien had been standing near the corner, leaning against the wall with his usual detached confidence. His eyes locked on you as you approached, confusion flickering in his expression. “Hey,” he had said, stepping closer. “What’s going on? You okay?”

“I just… I need to get out of here,” you had mumbled, barely meeting his gaze.

Without missing a beat, he had tossed his cigarette into a nearby cup and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, guiding you out of the house. The air outside was cold, but it did little to cool the fire in your chest. You barely registered the sensation of Damien’s hand resting against your arm as he led you to his car.

Once inside, the silence had stretched painfully thin, broken only by the soft hum of the engine as he drove. You stared out the window, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from crying again. But it was no use.

“It might be better if we don’t see each other anymore,” you had whispered, the words barely audible over the sound of the tires on asphalt.

Damien’s grip on the steering wheel had tightened, his jaw clenching. “What? Why?” he had asked, his tone sharp but not entirely surprised.

“I just…” You had trailed off, your voice cracking. “I can’t do this.”

Damien had scoffed softly, shaking his head. “Whatever. Do what you want,” he had muttered, his voice laced with irritation. He didn’t argue further, didn’t push. Instead, he dropped you off in front of your dorm without another word, and you had watched his car disappear into the night, feeling a strange mix of relief and guilt settle in your chest.

Back in the present, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the memory. The guilt gnawed at you, but so did the anger—anger at Kyle for pulling you into this mess, anger at Damien for not caring enough to fight, and anger at yourself for starting it all in the first place.

“Nothing?” Cartman taunted. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Kenny sighed, his voice softer now. “Cartman, chill. Seriously.”

Cartman scoffed but didn’t say anything else, slumping back against the seat with a huff.

The truck door creaked open after what felt like an eternity. Stan climbed in first, looking visibly drained, his shoulders slumping as he slid into the driver’s seat. Kyle followed closely behind, his movements stiff, his face set in a grim mask. He didn’t look at you as he closed the door and buckled his seatbelt.

Neither of them said a word as Stan started the truck, the engine rumbling to life. The tires crunched over gravel as he turned back onto the road, heading toward South Park.

You didn’t need to look to know Kyle was probably glaring at the dashboard, his fists clenched tight. And deep down, you hated how much you cared.

The rest of the drive was quiet, tension sitting thick in the air like a fog. Nobody said a word—not even Cartman, who seemed unusually preoccupied with scrolling through his phone. Stan’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, and Kyle sat stiffly, his face turned toward his window.

Finally, the truck rolled into Cartman’s driveway. The house loomed dark and quiet, the porch light flickering faintly. You noticed immediately that his mom’s car wasn’t there.

Cartman hopped out first, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Alright, losers, welcome to Casa de Cartman. My mom’s out of town for the weekend, so we’ve got the place to ourselves. Try not to break anything. Or steal anything. Looking at you, Kenny.”

Kenny snickered, nudging Cartman in the ribs. “Oh yeah? Bet she’s ‘out of town’ with one of her boyfriends again.”

Cartman’s face twisted with indignation, and he shoved Kenny hard. “Shut the hell up, poor kid! My mom has a social life, unlike your sad-ass family!”

“Social life?” Kenny said, laughing as he stumbled back. “That’s what you’re calling it now?”

“Go to hell!” Cartman snapped, shoving past him to unlock the door.

You ignored their bickering, climbing out of the truck without a word. Your chest still felt heavy, weighed down by the events of the night, and the last thing you wanted was to spend another second around any of them.

The second Cartman unlocked the front door, you brushed past him, heading straight for the stairs.

“Uh, where are you going?” Cartman called after you.

“Guest room,” you said curtly, not bothering to look back.

“Don’t touch my stuff!” Cartman yelled, but you barely heard him over the sound of your footsteps pounding up the stairs.

You pushed open the door to the guest room and stepped inside, slamming it shut behind you with enough force to make the walls rattle. The sound echoed in the quiet house, but you didn’t care.

The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the moon through the curtains. You leaned back against the door, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you tried to steady your breathing.

Your mind was a mess, the events of the night replaying over and over like a broken record. Kyle’s words, Cartman’s taunts, the looks on everyone’s faces—it all churned in your head, refusing to settle.

You closed your eyes, pressing the heels of your palms against them, and let out a shaky breath. For now, all you wanted was to shut everything out, even if only for a little while.

A couple of hours had passed, the house settling into an eerie quiet. The faint hum of the refrigerator downstairs and the occasional muffled sound of laughter—probably Kenny and Cartman—were the only reminders that you weren’t alone.

Curled up on the bed, you stared blankly at the moonlit wall, your knees tucked tightly to your chest. The exhaustion was bone-deep, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time you closed your eyes, those memories came flooding back, sharp and unforgiving.

The faint creak of the door startled you. Your heart leapt, but you didn’t move, your gaze fixed ahead as the door opened wider. Soft footsteps padded across the carpet, and the door clicked shut.

“Hey,” Stan said quietly. His voice was tentative, almost hesitant, and you felt the mattress shift as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

You didn’t respond.

The weight of his hand on your shoulder was light but grounding. His grip was gentle, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your shirt. “Kyle told me everything,” he said after a long pause, his voice low.

Your stomach churned, and you tightened your arms around your knees, your chest squeezing painfully. “Good for him,” you muttered, your voice muffled and heavy with bitterness.

Stan sighed, the sound full of something you couldn’t quite name—sympathy? Frustration? “He didn’t mean for it to blow up like this,” he said, his tone carefully measured. “He’s… messed up about it too. About everything.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh, the sound cracking in the stillness of the room. “Well, he’s not the only one.”

Stan’s hand lingered on your shoulder, his grip tightening slightly as if he thought it might keep you from falling apart. “Look, I’m not here to take sides, okay?” he said quietly. “I just… I think you both handled it wrong. But I also think he cares about you more than you realize.”

Your throat tightened, and you blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. “If he cared, he wouldn’t have said all that shit. He wouldn’t have turned everyone against me.”

“[Y/N], he’s not trying to turn anyone against you,” Stan said, his voice soft but firm. “He’s angry. Hurt. And yeah, he’s not handling it well, but neither are you.”

You swallowed hard, your chest aching as you stared at the wall, refusing to look at him. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“I know,” Stan said gently. “And I think Kyle knows that too. He’s just… figuring it out. Like you are.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. Stan’s hand stayed on your shoulder, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

“Come on,” Stan said softly, his tone encouraging. “You’ve been up here long enough. Kenny and Cartman are downstairs watching some dumb movie. Let’s go.”

You shook your head, burying your face in your arms. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Stan said, his voice firmer now. “Look, I’m not saying you have to talk to Kyle or… or fix everything tonight. Just come downstairs. You don’t have to sit up here alone.”

You hesitated, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Finally, with a heavy sigh, you uncrossed your arms and sat up, your movements sluggish. Stan stood and held out a hand, waiting patiently.

Reluctantly, you took it, letting him help you to your feet.

The warmth of the living room greeted you as you followed Stan downstairs. The glow of the TV lit up the room, casting flickering shadows across the walls. Cartman and Kenny were sprawled across the couch, laughing at something on the screen.

“Hey, look who finally decided to join us,” Kenny said with a grin, glancing over his shoulder.

“You took long enough,” Cartman added, snickering. “We were placing bets on whether you’d cry yourself to sleep up there.”

Your stomach tightened as your gaze landed on Kyle, sitting at the far end of the couch. His jaw was clenched tightly, his posture rigid as his arms crossed over his chest. His brows were furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin, tense line. He glanced at you briefly, his eyes clouded with an uneasy mix of irritation and guilt, before snapping his focus back to the TV like he hadn’t seen you at all.

Stan nudged your shoulder gently. “Go on,” he said quietly.

You glanced around, hoping for another option, but of course, the only open seat was the small space right next to Kyle. Your chest tightened as you hesitated, but Kenny noticed immediately.

“Don’t just stand there looking awkward,” Kenny said, laughing as he gestured to the seat. “Unless you wanna sit on Cartman’s lap.”

“Like hell she will!” Cartman snapped, glaring at Kenny.

Swallowing hard, you shuffled toward the couch and sank into the spot next to Kyle, keeping as much distance between you as the cramped space would allow. The cushions dipped slightly under your weight, and you felt Kyle shift uncomfortably beside you. His fingers tapped against his arm, betraying his restlessness despite the stoic expression he was trying to maintain.

The tension between you and Kyle was suffocating, thick enough to choke on, but of course, nobody in the room cared. Cartman and Kenny were still snickering in the background, while Stan kept glancing between you and Kyle like he was waiting for one of you to explode.

You stared at the TV, pretending to focus on the movie, but every tiny movement Kyle made—every shift of his leg, every fidget of his hands—burned at the edge of your vision. His knee brushed yours at one point, and you stiffened, gripping your thighs like the contact had physically scorched you.

On the screen, Arthur and Lee stumbled through a chaotic sequence during a film screening. Lee, defiant and wild-eyed, started a fire, the flames spreading rapidly as the audience screamed and scrambled for safety. The tension in the room shifted as the two characters were caught, and Arthur was thrown into solitary confinement.

“Holy shit,” Cartman muttered, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Who’s this chick again? ‘Cause she’s got way more balls than this sad fuck.”

Kenny snorted, leaning back against the couch. “She’s his girlfriend, dumbass. Keep up.”

“His girlfriend?” Cartman scoffed, shoving another handful of popcorn into his mouth. “She just set the building on fire. Are we supposed to root for her or what?”

Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not about rooting for anyone. Just watch the movie.”

The scene shifted again, this time to Lee visiting Arthur in his grim, sterile cell. Her face was unreadable as she told him she was leaving to avoid his influence, but the tension between them was palpable, nearly vibrating off the screen.

The atmosphere in the room grew heavier as Lee asked Arthur to stop taking his medication. Then, without warning, the two of them collided in a feverish kiss, their desperation spilling into something more physical. Clothes were shed, hands gripped at bare skin, and the camera lingered just long enough to make the moment painfully intimate.

Kenny was the first to snicker, though it wasn’t loud. “Alright, didn’t see that coming,” he muttered, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Cartman rolled his eyes, shifting in his seat. “Oh, yeah, this makes total sense. They’re banging in solitary confinement. That’s not psychotic or anything.”

Kyle stiffened beside you, his shoulders tightening as the flush on his face deepened. He muttered a quiet, “Jesus Christ,” under his breath and turned his head sharply, refusing to look at the screen. His hand dragged over his face, his lips tight in a straight line

You felt a strange mix of irritation and something sharper bubble up at the sight of him acting so stiff and uncomfortable. The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“Of course you wouldn’t watch this,” you muttered, your tone low but cutting.

Kyle snapped his head toward you immediately, his green eyes narrowing. “And what the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

You crossed your arms, your gaze locked on the screen as Arthur crooned his haunting song to Lee. “Nothing. Forget it.”

Kyle wasn’t letting it go. “No, go ahead,” he said, his voice icy. “Say what you’re thinking. You’ve never had a problem before.”

Your jaw clenched as you turned to glare at him. “What’s the point? You’ll just act like you’re above it anyway.”

“Better than acting like a fucking expert on bad decisions,” Kyle shot back, his voice rising just enough to draw the others’ attention.

“Alright, can we not?” Stan cut in, sitting forward in his seat. His voice was tired, like he’d had enough of both of you. “This is starting to sound like one of my parents’ fights.”

“Seriously,” Cartman added, popping a kernel into his mouth. “If you two are gonna have a lovers’ spat, at least keep it quiet. Some of us are trying to watch this trainwreck.”

Kenny grinned faintly, glancing between you and Kyle. “I dunno. Kinda feels like part of the movie at this point.”

You ignored them, your fists clenching as you bit back the words that clawed at your throat. You refused to look at Kyle again, staring hard at the screen like it could somehow swallow you whole.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Kyle muttered beside you, his arms crossing tightly over his chest.

Your nails dug into your palms as the frustration and anger simmered under your skin. It wasn’t just about tonight. It wasn’t just about the party. It was everything that had been building between you and Kyle for weeks—months even. And now, with Arthur singing to Lee through the TV screen, his voice dripping with heartbreak and longing, it all felt unbearable.

You gripped your knees tightly, the popcorn bowl in Cartman’s lap catching your eye. The longer you stared, the more the anger churned inside you, relentless and unrelenting. It wasn’t just about tonight. It wasn’t even just about the party.

It was Kyle’s stupid, infuriating sense of self-righteousness. The way he always had to be in the right, even when it meant twisting a knife into your side to make his point.

But beneath the anger, buried deep where you didn’t want to look, was something else. Guilt.

You clenched your fists as the memories resurfaced: his lips on your neck, leaving marks you couldn’t fully hide, his voice shaky and low as he’d asked, “Are you sure?” You’d said yes. And now here you were, sitting next to him, pretending like you weren’t the one who started it all.

You didn’t want to feel guilty. He deserved your anger—didn’t he?

You glanced at the bowl again, the idea forming in your mind before you could stop it.

“Cartman,” you barked, sharper than intended. “Gimme the popcorn.”

Cartman arched a brow, hugging the bowl protectively. “Oh, sure. Let me just hand over my personal stash so you can—what? Stress-eat your problems away?”

“Just give it to me, Cartman,” you snapped, holding out your hand.

“Fine,” he grumbled, shoving the bowl into your lap. “You’re more annoying than Kyle right now. And that’s saying something.”

You ignored him, grabbing a handful of popcorn and pretending to eat, crunching loudly as if the sound could drown out your thoughts. But your gaze kept drifting to Kyle. His jaw was clenched tight, his arms crossed over his chest, his shoulders stiff like he was trying to hold himself together.

The same shoulders you’d gripped as he kissed you, hesitant at first but quickly unraveling.

The heat in your chest flared again. You didn’t even know why you were so mad anymore—at Kyle, at yourself, at the entire fucking situation. But it was easier to be mad at him.

A kernel left your hand and bounced off his shoulder.

Kyle didn’t react.

Another kernel, harder this time, hit his arm.

Kyle let out a sharp exhale, his jaw ticking, but he kept his eyes locked on the screen.

That was the last straw.

You grabbed a handful of popcorn and pelted it at him, the kernels scattering across his lap and the couch.

“What the fuck, [Y/N]?” Kyle hissed, finally snapping his head toward you. His green eyes were alight with irritation, his brows furrowed in a deep scowl.

“What?” you said, your tone dripping with mock innocence as you grabbed another handful.

Kyle brushed the popcorn off his hoodie, his scowl deepening. “Are you seriously throwing popcorn at me right now?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I hurting your feelings?” you shot back, throwing more.

“Cut it out,” Kyle growled, his tone low and warning.

“Or what?” you challenged, your anger bubbling over. “What are you gonna do, Kyle? Sit there and brood about it? You’re so fucking good at that.”

Cartman snorted from the other side of the couch. “This is getting good. Ten bucks says she’s gonna start throwing hands next.”

Stan groaned, standing abruptly and stepping between you and Kyle. “Alright, enough. Both of you, knock it the hell off.”

You grabbed another handful of popcorn, but before you could throw it, Stan caught your wrist, his grip firm.

“Seriously, [Y/N], stop,” he said, his voice low but sharp.

You stared at him for a moment, your chest heaving as your anger warred with something deeper—shame. Kyle didn’t deserve this. Not really.

But when Stan let go of your wrist, you couldn’t help yourself.

Grabbing the entire bowl, you hurled it at Kyle’s face with everything you had.

The bowl hit with a satisfying thunk, popcorn exploding everywhere as it bounced onto the floor.

Kyle stood abruptly, brushing popcorn off his hoodie with sharp, jerky movements. His face was flushed, his green eyes blazing. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped, his voice rough with frustration.

Your chest heaved as you glared up at him. “What’s wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you, Kyle? You act like you’re so above everyone else, like your shit doesn’t stink, but you’re just a fucking hypocrite!”

Kyle’s lips twisted into a bitter snarl. “And you’re just a spoiled little brat who can’t take responsibility for anything!”

Stan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You guys—”

“Stay out of it, Stan!” you and Kyle barked in unison.

Kyle’s shoulders rose and fell as he glared at you, his chest heaving. For a moment, it looked like he might say more, but instead, he grabbed a stray piece of popcorn from the floor and threw it back at you.

It hit you square in the forehead.

You froze for a split second before grabbing a pillow and launching it at him. “Fuck you, Kyle!”

Kyle caught the pillow midair, tossing it onto the couch with a huff. “You’re an annoyance,” he muttered, his voice quieter but no less sharp.

“Yeah? Well, I guess I learned from the best!” you shot back, crossing your arms as you slumped into the couch.

Kyle stood there for a moment, his fists clenching and unclenching, before muttering something under his breath and storming upstairs.

The tension lingered long after he left, the silence broken only by the faint sounds of the movie.

Cartman rolled his eyes, picking up the now-empty popcorn bowl. “Great. Now what the hell are we supposed to eat?”

Stan slumped into the couch, rubbing his temples. “You guys are gonna kill me one day, I swear.”

You stayed silent, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. The heat of your anger was still simmering, but somewhere deep down, you knew it wasn’t all Kyle’s fault. You just didn’t want to admit it.

The movie dragged on until the credits finally rolled, leaving the room in awkward quiet. The hum of the television filled the silence, the black screen casted the room into darkness.

Kenny shifted in his seat, turning halfway around to glance at you. His voice was soft but curious, laced with something you couldn’t quite place. “Alright… what’s your problem?”

You stiffened, your jaw tightening as his words hit like a spark to a fuse.

Stan leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees as he looked at you expectantly. He didn’t say anything, but his expression said enough—he was waiting, like Kenny, for you to explain yourself.

Cartman stayed where he was, slouched on the couch, scrolling through his phone with disinterest. His silence somehow felt louder than anything else.

It was too much. The tension boiled over, and before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out, loud and raw.

“My problem?” you snapped, your voice cracking with anger. “My problem is that, of course, all of you are taking Kyle’s side! You always do!”

Stan flinched slightly, his brows knitting together. “Nobody’s—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “Don’t sit there and pretend like you haven’t been on his side this whole fucking time! It’s always about Kyle, isn’t it? I can’t do anything without it being compared to him!”

Kenny leaned back, his brows raised. “Whoa, okay, chill—”

“Don’t tell me to fucking chill!” you shouted, your chest heaving as your voice cracked again. “You all act like I’m the bad guy, like I’m the one who fucked everything up, but none of you even tried to understand!”

Stan started to say something, but you barreled on, your voice trembling with emotion. “I was happy with Damien, okay? I liked him! But none of you could let me have that. All you did was shit on him, like I wasn’t good enough to decide for myself!”

“Damien was—” Kenny began, but you cut him off again.

“Don’t even start. I never said a word when you guys got into your first relationships. I didn’t complain when Stan got all sappy over Wendy in middle school, and I didn’t laugh when Kenny was trying so hard to impress Tammy like she was the best thing to ever happen to him. And Cartman? God, you never told anyone anything, but we all knew what you were doing, sneaking off and hooking up with random people. Nobody judged you, least of all me!”

You paused, the weight of those memories hitting you. They never told you anything about their relationships. You had to piece it together from whispers, rumors, and the occasional slip in their conversations. You always acted like it didn’t bother you, but it did. You used to wonder if it was because you weren’t one of them, not really. Maybe they didn’t trust you enough to share. Or maybe they just didn’t think it mattered. But when you had someone—when you finally kissed someone, finally felt like you had something that was yours—they tore it apart like it was a fucking joke. Like you were a joke.

Your chest heaved as the tears you’d been holding back threatened to spill. “But me?” you continued, your voice cracking as the emotions swelled. “I finally kiss someone—finally feel something—and suddenly I’m the one who has to explain myself? Fuck all of you!”

The tears broke free then, streaming hot down your face as you buried your head in your hands. Sobs wracked your body, each one pulling more of the anger and frustration out of you, leaving behind an ache so deep it felt like it might swallow you whole.

The room fell into heavy silence, your ragged breaths and muffled sobs the only sound.

Stan shifted uncomfortably, his voice soft but uncertain. “Hey, it’s not… it’s not like that. We weren’t trying to—”

“Save it,” you mumbled through your hands, your voice muffled and thick with tears.

Kenny exhaled sharply, leaning back into the couch. He didn’t say anything, and Cartman quietly went back to his phone, though his scrolling was noticeably slower.

You sat there, your head buried in your hands, as the weight of your outburst settled over the room. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew you’d regret this later. But right now, it didn’t matter.

The silence dragged on until Kenny finally broke it. His voice was quiet, almost thoughtful, but there was an edge to it that cut through the stillness.

“You’re so clueless, you know that?”

You froze, your hands slowly lowering from your face as your blood ran cold. “What?” you asked, your voice shaky.

Kenny leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms as he looked at you, his gaze uncharacteristically serious. “Kyle. You never saw him as anything more than your best friend. And now you’re acting like none of this makes sense. Like you didn’t notice how he—”

“Shut up,” you snapped, your voice rising, the anger bubbling up again.

Kenny raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t stop. “How he’s looked at you all these years. How he never—”

“I said, shut up!” you shouted, cutting him off, your chest heaving. You shot to your feet, glaring at him. “How the fuck was I supposed to know, huh? He never said anything! He never—he never did anything! And what about all those girls? What about Heidi? And Rebecca? He dated them right in front of me!”

Kenny held up his hands defensively, but there was a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips that only made your blood boil more.

“Don’t look at me like that!” you snapped, your voice cracking. “You’re such an asshole! How dare you even fucking joke about this!”

“Who said I was joking?” Kenny shot back, his voice calm but pointed.

Your breath caught, and you felt your fists clench at your sides. “You’re full of shit. That’s what you are. Just because you think you know everything doesn’t mean you do!”

Cartman looked up from his phone, glancing between you and Kenny with mild interest. “Well, this took a turn,” he muttered.

Stan sighed heavily, standing up and stepping toward you. “Alright, that’s enough. Both of you.”

You ignored him, your focus locked on Kenny. Your voice trembled with a mix of anger and desperation as you continued, “You think you can just say shit like that and walk away? You don’t know what it’s like to be blindsided by something like this! You don’t know what it’s like to have someone drop a fucking bomb on you like that and then expect you to—”

“To what?” Kenny interrupted, his tone calm but firm. “To deal with it? To grow up? Yeah, maybe I don’t know what it’s like, but I can see what’s right in front of me, and so could you if you stopped being so goddamn stubborn.”

“Fuck you,” you spat, your voice breaking as tears welled up in your eyes again. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. You don’t get to act like you understand.”

Kenny shrugged, leaning back against the couch again. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

The dismissive tone hit like a slap, and you turned away sharply, your arms crossing over your chest as you tried to steady your breathing.

Stan stepped closer, his voice soft but firm. “Hey. Let’s all just calm down, okay? This… this isn’t helping anything.”

You turned sharply, your glare snapping to him like a whip. “Do you agree with him?” you asked, your voice low, deadly quiet.

Stan blinked, his mouth opening slightly as if to answer, but nothing came out. His silence spoke volumes.

Your chest tightened, and the knot in your stomach twisted painfully. “I fucking knew it,” you muttered, your voice shaking. “Of course you do. Of course, Stan would take Kyle’s side too.”

Stan reached a hand out, like he wanted to say something, but you jerked away, turning toward Cartman instead.

“And you?” you demanded, your eyes narrowing as you glared at him. “What about you, Cartman? You agree with Kenny too, right?”

Cartman didn’t even look up from his phone, his thumb lazily scrolling across the screen. “Yeah, obviously,” he said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Kyle’s been pining over you since middle school. Shit’s been pathetic to watch, honestly.”

The room felt like it tipped sideways, your balance faltering for a moment as his words sank in. You trembled, anger and humiliation coursing through your veins like fire.

“Fuck you, Cartman,” you hissed, your voice breaking.

“Join the club,” Cartman muttered, finally glancing up. His expression was as indifferent as ever. “But yeah, I agree. Kyle’s basically had a flashing neon sign above his head this whole time. You’re just too dense to see it.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, shaking as your vision blurred with tears. “You’re all full of shit,” you snapped, your voice cracking.

Stan let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck before stepping toward you again. “Alright,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s enough.”

“Don’t touch me—” you started, but before you could finish, Stan grabbed your wrists gently but firmly.

“Come on,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’re going upstairs.”

“Stan, let go of me!” you shouted, struggling against his grip. But he didn’t relent, his grip steady as he started pulling you toward the stairs.

“You’re just gonna blow up again if you stay down here,” he said over his shoulder, his voice tired but resolute. “And I’m not dealing with another screaming match. Let’s go.”

Kenny watched the scene unfold silently, his arms crossed as his lips pressed into a thin line. Cartman let out an exaggerated sigh, muttering something under his breath about Stan being the “mom friend.”

You twisted in Stan’s grip, your cheeks burning with anger and embarrassment. “Let me go, Stan! I’m not a fucking child!”

“Then stop acting like one,” he shot back, dragging you up the stairs with surprising ease. “I don’t care if you’re mad at me. But you’re not doing this tonight.”

By the time you reached the top of the stairs, your breathing was heavy, and your throat burned with unshed tears. Stan released your wrists once you were out of sight from the others, his gaze meeting yours with an exhausted but steady resolve.

“You’re angry. I get it,” he said softly, his voice low. “But maybe instead of blowing up at everyone, you should figure out what you’re actually angry about.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you crossed your arms tightly over your chest, your jaw set in defiance as you stared past him.

Stan exhaled heavily, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Fine,” he muttered, stepping closer. Before you could react, he grabbed your arms firmly, pulling them away from your chest.

“What the hell are you doing, Stan?” you snapped, struggling against his grip.

“You’ll see,” he replied flatly, dragging you toward the guest room at the end of the hall. His tone was calm, but there was a quiet determination in his movements that made your stomach twist.

“Let me go!” you shouted, yanking at your arms, but Stan didn’t falter. He opened the guest room door and practically shoved you inside.

“What the fuck, Stan—” you started, but your voice caught in your throat when your eyes landed on Kyle.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly. His head shot up as the door swung open, his eyes widening when he saw you.

“Stan, what the hell is this?” Kyle said sharply, standing up.

Stan ignored him, placing a hand on the doorframe as he turned to face you. “You two are gonna figure this shit out,” he said simply.

You glared at him, your chest heaving with a mix of anger and panic. “Stan, don’t you dare—”

Before you could finish, Stan gave you a gentle but firm push further into the room and slammed the door shut.

You spun around, your heart racing as you grabbed the handle and twisted. The door didn’t budge. You yanked harder, but it was no use—Stan was holding it shut from the other side.

“Stan, open the fucking door!” you shouted, pounding on it with both fists.

From the hallway, you heard Stan’s muffled voice. “Kenny! Cartman! Bring me a chair!”

“You can’t be serious!” you screamed, banging on the door harder.

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” Stan replied, his voice calm but resolute through the door. “You two are staying in there until you talk. Or kill each other. Honestly, at this point, I don’t care which.”

You growled in frustration, twisting the handle again, but it was no use.

Behind you, Kyle let out a sharp breath, his voice laced with irritation. “What the hell, Stan?!”

“Figure it out,” Stan called back, his voice fading slightly as he presumably turned to wait for the chair.

You turned to Kyle, your hands still gripping the door handle. His face was a mixture of frustration and discomfort, his green eyes narrowing slightly as they met yours.

“I’m not doing this,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

Kyle crossed his arms, leaning back slightly against the bedframe. “Yeah? Well, neither am I.”

The air between you felt heavy, the silence only broken by the faint sound of Cartman and Kenny laughing, dragging what you presumed to be a chair.

You pounded on the door one more time. “Stan! Open the goddamn door!”

“Nope!” came his muffled reply. “You’re not getting out until you fix this.”

You let out a sharp exhale, your hands dropping to your sides as you turned to face Kyle fully. He was watching you, his expression guarded, his shoulders tense.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, your fingers clenching into fists.

Kyle let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, no shit.”

You glared at him briefly before turning back to the door, pounding on it again with both fists. “Stan, I swear to God, let me out!”

There was no response this time, just the faint sound of muffled conversation downstairs.

You slammed your palm against the door one last time before letting out a shaky breath, your shoulders slumping. It was no use. They weren’t going to let you out.

With a huff, you sank to the floor, your legs folding beneath you in a criss-cross position as you leaned against the door. You buried your head in your hands, your elbows resting on your knees, and tried to steady your breathing.

You felt like crying again, the frustration and humiliation clawing at your chest like a vice. But you were so damn tired of crying. What good had it done so far? Your tears hadn’t solved anything, and they sure as hell weren’t going to get you out of this room.

Kyle shifted on the bed, the faint creak of the mattress grating against your nerves. “You can’t just sit there all night,” he said finally, his voice cautious but firm.

“Watch me,” you muttered, your voice muffled by your hands.

Kyle sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. “Look, I don’t want to be in here any more than you do, alright? But maybe if you stop acting like a goddamn brick wall, we can actually get out of here.”

You looked up sharply, your brows furrowing as you glared at him. “You think this is my fault? That I’m the reason we’re locked in here?”

“I didn’t say that,” Kyle replied quickly, his tone defensive. “But you’re not exactly helping, are you?”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” you snapped. “Not after everything.”

Kyle ran a hand through his curls, his eyes narrowing as he got up and paced a few steps forward. “You keep blowing up at everyone like it’s all our fault, but you never actually say what’s going on. You don’t talk, you just—” He gestured vaguely, his voice rising. “You just shut down.”

“Oh, and you’re so great at talking, right?” you shot back, standing abruptly to face him. “Because from where I’m standing, all you’ve done is sulk and blame me for everything!”

Kyle opened his mouth, and for a moment, you thought he might yell. But instead, he shook his head, exhaling sharply as he turned away. “You know what? Forget it.”

“Forget it?” you repeated, your voice cracking slightly. “That’s all you’ve got?”

He stopped, his back to you. “What do you want me to say, huh? That I’m sorry? That I didn’t mean for things to go this way? Because I didn’t.” His voice was low, almost breaking, as he turned to look at you. “I didn’t want this. Any of it.”

You stared at him, anger bubbling to the surface again, hot and unrelenting, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out.

“If you didn’t want any of this,” you said sharply, “then why did you agree to do it?”

His eyes widened slightly, the raw vulnerability in his expression giving way to shock. He froze, his lips parting as if to respond, but no words came out.

You pressed on, your voice rising with each word as the emotions you’d been bottling up spilled over. “You could’ve said no! You could’ve told me to fuck off, and none of this would’ve happened! But you didn’t, Kyle. You didn’t. You sat there, and you—you said yes. You touched me, and now you want to act like it didn’t mean anything?”

Kyle’s jaw clenched, his hands twitching at his sides. “I never said it didn’t mean anything,” he muttered, his voice strained.

“Then what the fuck did it mean?!” you shouted, stepping closer to him. “Because I’m fucking tired of feeling like I’m the only one who’s carrying the weight of this. Like it was just some stupid mistake to you.”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Kyle snapped, his voice louder now, his eyes blazing as they locked onto yours. “Do you think I don’t think about it? Do you think I don’t regret the way it all went down? Because I do! But you don’t get to stand there and act like it’s all on me. You begged me, [Y/N]. You begged me to help you, and I—” He stopped himself, his voice dropping. “I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do.”

His words cut deep, but your anger refused to waver. “You were supposed to stop me,” you said, your voice shaking. “You were supposed to tell me no. You’re Kyle fucking Broflovski—the moral compass of the group, right? You don’t fuck up. You don’t get caught in shit like this. So why the hell didn’t you stop me?”

Kyle laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and sharp. “Maybe because I didn’t fucking want to,” he admitted, his voice breaking.

The confession hung between you like a thunderclap, the weight of it knocking the air from your lungs.

“I didn’t want to stop you,” Kyle repeated, softer this time, his voice raw. “And that’s the part that’s been eating me alive. Because I knew it was a bad idea, and I still went through with it. I didn’t stop, because…” He faltered, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Because I wanted to.”

Your heart felt like it had stopped, the room suddenly too quiet. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come.

Kyle looked up at you again, his expression a mix of anger and guilt. “So, yeah,” he muttered. “If you’re looking for someone to blame, go ahead. Blame me. I deserve it.”

You stood frozen for a moment, his words echoing in your mind, louder and louder until they drowned out everything else. Your stomach churned, and the air in the room felt heavier, suffocating.

Without saying a word, you turned and sat down on the edge of the bed, your legs feeling too weak to hold you up any longer. You buried your face in your hands, your fingers pressing tightly against your ears as if you could block out the storm of emotions swirling around you.

But it didn’t work.

Kyle’s voice kept playing in your head, overlapping with Kenny’s, Cartman’s, and even Stan’s. You’re clueless. Kyle’s been pining for you for years. You never saw it, did you?

You clutched your chest as it hit you like a brick to the chest—Kenny had been right. They all had.

Kyle wasn’t angry because of what happened at the party. Not entirely. He wasn’t lashing out because you’d asked him for something impossible or because you’d pushed him too far. He was angry because it had meant something to him, and you hadn’t even considered that possibility.

You’d been so focused on Damien—on proving to everyone that you could have something of your own—that you’d ignored everything right in front of you. Kyle. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way he always tried to stay calm when you were upset, even when it wasn’t his fight to pick. The way his voice had softened when he’d asked, Are you sure? that night at the party.

And now here you were, sitting on the bed with your hands over your ears, trying to drown out the truth that had been staring you in the face all along.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen this way,” Kyle said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

You lifted your head slowly, your hands slipping from your ears as you turned to look at him. He was standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, his posture tense but his eyes… his eyes looked different now. Softer. Sadder.

He didn’t say anything else, waiting for you to speak, but the words caught in your throat.

“I…” you started, but your voice cracked, and you looked down at your hands. “I didn’t know, Kyle. I didn’t know you felt this way.”

Kyle let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. That’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?”

His words stung, but you couldn’t blame him. He was right. You’d been so oblivious, so caught up in your own world, that you’d missed something so obvious.

Your chest ached as you looked up at him again, his expression guarded but vulnerable, like he was bracing himself for another blow.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kyle blinked, caught off guard by your question. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me how you felt?” you repeated, your voice trembling as you stood up, meeting his gaze. “Why did you let me go through all of this—feeling unwanted, like I wasn’t enough? Why didn’t you stop me from dating Damien?”

Kyle flinched slightly at the sharp edge to your tone, but he didn’t look away. His mouth opened, then closed, like he was trying to find the right words but couldn’t. Finally, he exhaled.

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice tight.

“Then make it simple,” you shot back, fighting to keep your emotions from spilling over. “You knew how much I was struggling. You knew I didn’t feel good enough for anyone, and you—” You stopped yourself, your voice cracking. “You could’ve said something. You could’ve told me.”

Kyle’s nostrils flared, his fists tightening at his sides. “And what would I have said, huh? That I liked you? That I’ve liked you since we were kids? That I couldn’t stand seeing you with someone else because it fucking killed me? Would that have made it better, [Y/N]? Would that have stopped you from choosing him?”

“Kyle, I…” You faltered, your voice shaking as tears pricked at your eyes. “I didn’t know. I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think I’d feel that way about you,” Kyle finished for you, his voice quieter now but no less raw. He looked down, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I didn’t tell you because I was scared. Scared you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me now. Like I’m just… some guy who got it all wrong.”

Your hands trembled at your sides, your mind spinning as you tried to process everything he was saying. “You don’t know that,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible.

Kyle let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t I?” He looked up at you again, his eyes searching yours. “You wanted Damien. You chose him. And I didn’t stop you because I thought… maybe if I let you figure it out for yourself, you’d realize that he wasn’t good enough for you.”

You flinched as his words sank in. “You thought I’d come running back to you,” you said softly, the realization cutting deep.

“I thought you’d see me,” Kyle admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “But you didn’t. And by the time I realized I’d fucked up, it was too late.”

You stood there in stunned silence, his confession hanging heavy in the air. The raw vulnerability in his voice, the guilt etched into his features—it all made your chest ache even more.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” you whispered, your voice cracking as the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over.

Kyle took a hesitant step closer, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Because I was scared,” he said again, his voice trembling. “I didn’t want to lose you, [Y/N]. Not as a friend. Not as anything. So, I kept quiet. And now…” He trailed off, looking away. “Now, I don’t know if I made the right choice.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension between you almost unbearable. Then, Kyle moved, sitting down on the bed next to you. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and he kept his gaze forward, staring at the wall like it held the answers to questions neither of you had figured out how to ask.

You hesitated, your hands twisting nervously in your lap as you stared at him. His shoulders were slumped, his usual sharp edges softened by something raw and uncertain. Finally, you turned to him, your voice quiet but steady.

“Kyle,” you started, your throat tightening as his name left your lips. He glanced at you briefly, his green eyes flicking to yours before darting away again.

“We’re supposed to be best friends,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “We’re supposed to tell each other everything. Anything.”

Kyle let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, some things are harder to say than others.”

You swallowed hard, your throat constricting and your stomach twisting in guilt. “I would’ve listened,” you said, leaning closer, your voice breaking slightly. “If you’d just told me, Kyle—if you’d just said something—”

“Would you?” Kyle interrupted, his voice sharper now as he turned to face you fully. His expression was a mix of frustration and sadness, his brows furrowed deeply. “Would you really have listened? Or would you have brushed it off like you always do, told me I was being dramatic or overthinking things?”

Your stomach churned, a cold knot forming deep inside as shame prickled at your skin. “I wouldn’t have done that,” you said softly, though the uncertainty in your own voice made you wince.

Kyle arched an eyebrow, his lips curling into a small, humorless smile. “Come on, [Y/N]. You’ve known me your whole life. You really think you wouldn’t have?”

His words stung because there was truth in them—truth you didn’t want to face. There had been moments, small ones, where Kyle had tried to say something, where his words had hinted at feelings deeper than friendship. And you’d missed them. Or worse, ignored them.

You dropped your gaze. “Maybe I would’ve,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have tried.”

Kyle sighed, his head dropping into his hands. “I didn’t know how,” he said, his voice muffled. “I thought… I thought if I just kept quiet, if I pushed it down, it would go away. That I could just be your friend and nothing more. But it didn’t work. It never worked.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your throat tighten, as though words would fail you if you tried to speak. And for a moment, neither of you said anything.

“Kyle,” you started softly. He looked up at you, his eyes glassy with emotion.

You sat there, your hands fidgeting in your lap, your thoughts spinning. This was Kyle—your best friend. The one who always had your back, who was honest with you even when you didn’t want to hear it. He never sugarcoated things, never pretended to be someone he wasn’t. Kyle was blunt, infuriatingly so, but it came from a place of care, of wanting what was best for you. You knew, deep down, that he would do anything for you if you asked. He’d proven it a hundred times over, in ways you hadn’t even realized until now. Like how he’d taken you to prom when no one else asked, saying it was no big deal, but you remembered the way he smiled at you all night, like he was proud to be there with you. He’d always been protective—too much, at times—but it was part of who he was, and it made you feel safe in ways you couldn’t explain. And now, as you sat here, the truth of his feelings laid bare, a question you hadn’t dared to ask yourself lingered in the back of your mind. Would it really be so bad? Being with someone like Kyle—someone who knew you better than anyone, someone who had always been there? You’d spent so much time chasing things that didn’t last, people who didn’t care, and yet Kyle had been right in front of you the whole time. The thought made your chest tighten, a mix of fear and something that felt almost like hope stirring within you.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you admitted, your voice cracking. “But I can’t… I don’t know how to fix this.”

Kyle didn’t say anything. His eyes searched yours, wide and uncertain, his jaw tight with tension. A faint crease formed between his brows, and his fingers traced restless patterns on his jeans.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you broke the quiet. “When did you know?”

Kyle blinked, his brows furrowing slightly. “Know what?”

“That you liked me,” you said, your gaze dropping to your lap. “When did you realize?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer, and you thought he might avoid the question altogether. But then he exhaled softly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped tightly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady. “Maybe I always did. Or maybe it was middle school, when you showed up to school in that stupid homemade shirt for Spirit Week, and everyone laughed at you. I wanted to punch every single one of them.” He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Or maybe it was prom. Watching you dance, smiling like it didn’t matter that nobody else asked you to go. Like it didn’t matter that it was just me.”

His words caught you off guard, your throat constricting as your pulse quickened.

Kyle glanced at you briefly before looking away again, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I don’t know when exactly it happened. I just… I know that every time something good happened to you, it made me happy. And every time someone hurt you, it made me want to fucking kill them.” He paused, his voice lowering. “And then Damien came along, and I told myself it was fine. That if he made you happy, I could live with it. But watching you with him…” He hesitated, his voice catching slightly before continuing. “It wasn’t just jealousy. It was this stupid, gnawing feeling, like I wasn’t enough. Like everything I’d ever done for you didn’t matter, because someone else could make you smile the way I thought only I could. I thought I was unique.”

The admission hung between you, heavy and raw, as his voice dipped even lower. “And I told myself I was overreacting, but every time I saw him with you, it was like everything I’d tried to bury just came flooding back. And I couldn’t stop it.”

He finally met your gaze, his eyes glimmering with a tenderness that sent a wave of warmth through you. “I guess I realized I liked you the moment I couldn’t pretend I didn’t anymore.”

You were quiet, his words settling over you like a weight you didn’t know how to carry. Your gaze drifted to the floor, your mind racing as you tried to process everything he’d just said. Slowly, you turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest. Without thinking, you reached for the neckline of your shirt, pulling it down just enough to expose the faint, fading marks on your skin—the hickeys he’d left at the party. They were barely there now, just faint shadows of what they had been, but the memory was vivid, etched into you like a scar that didn’t hurt but would never fade completely.

You smiled softly, the corners of your lips trembling slightly as you tried to lighten the moment. “I guess I should’ve known you liked me,” you said, your voice teasing but quiet. “You don’t leave marks like these for just anyone.”

Kyle’s eyes widened slightly, his gaze dropping to your neck. His face flushed, and he quickly looked away, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted, your voice softer now. Your own face felt impossibly hot, and you quickly pulled your shirt back into place, avoiding his gaze.

Neither of you spoke, the air dense and charged. Your fingers fidgeted in your lap, and his presence beside you felt close and magnetic, the space between you humming like a live wire.

Finally, you took a shaky breath and spoke, your voice barely audible. “I… I liked it,” you admitted, your cheeks burning. “When you kissed me. I liked it.”

Kyle’s head snapped toward you, his eyes wide with surprise. You kept your gaze fixed on your hands, unable to look at him as you continued. “And… I’m glad it was you. That you were my first real kiss.”

His breath hitched, but he didn’t interrupt, his eyes locked on you as if he didn’t dare to move.

Your fingers twisted nervously in the fabric of your pants as you went on, the words tumbling out in a rush. “And I—when you… when you touched me, I liked that too. I mean, I really liked it.” Your face burned hotter with each word, and you felt like you might melt into the floor. But even through the embarrassment, there was a sense of relief in finally saying it—finally being honest.

Kyle stared at you, his expression unreadable for a moment, before his lips parted slightly, his voice soft and almost hesitant. “You… you did?”

You nodded, still not looking at him, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest you were sure he could hear it. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I really did.”

Your hands twitched at your sides, and before you could think too much about it, you reached out and grabbed his hands, intertwining your fingers with his. Kyle’s gaze snapped down to your joined hands. His fingers tensed for a moment, but then they relaxed, curling around yours like he’d been waiting for this all along.

“I was wrong,” you said quietly. “About the party. About everything. The way I acted… it wasn’t fair to you. None of it was.”

Kyle’s brows furrowed, his lips parting slightly as if to protest, but you squeezed his hands, stopping him.

“I didn’t mean any of the things I said,” you continued, your voice breaking. “You’re not a terrible best friend, Kyle. You’re not… you’re not a pathetic jealous asshole. I don’t know why I said that. I was just… angry. At myself. At the whole situation. And I took it out on you.”

Kyle’s expression softened, the tension in his jaw easing as his thumbs brushed lightly over your knuckles. “You had every right to be angry,” he said softly. “I should’ve handled things differently too.”

You shook your head, your grip on his hands tightening. “No, Kyle. You didn’t deserve any of that. You were just trying to help me, to make sure I was okay. And I wasn’t. But you—you were there. You showed me everything, even when you didn’t have to, and I…” You trailed off, your throat tightening as you tried to find the right words.

“I really do appreciate you,” you said finally, your voice trembling. “For everything. For putting up with me, for being there when I needed you, for… just being you.”

Kyle’s eyes glistened slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “You mean that?”

“I mean it,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze. “And I’m really proud that you’re my best friend. I don’t say it enough, but I am.”

Kyle’s lips quirked into a small, uncertain smile, his hands squeezing yours gently. “You know,” he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of that familiar sarcasm, “you’re going to make me start crying, and we both know I’m already bad at hiding it.”

You laughed quietly, your chest feeling a little lighter for the first time all night. “Yeah, I know,” you admitted, your voice soft.

The laughter faded, but the warmth lingered as you looked at Kyle. Really looked at him. His eyes were fixed on you, soft and unsure, as though he couldn’t quite believe you were sitting here like this. There was a faint blush on his cheeks, dusting the bridge of his nose, standing out against the light freckles that dotted his skin. His unruly red curls framed his face, a little messier than usual, and his lips were curved into a small, hesitant smile.

Something inside you shifted as you took him in, your chest tightening—but not in a bad way. He looked… cute. Adorably so. You didn’t know how you’d never noticed it before, but it felt so obvious now, like the realization had been waiting for the right moment to hit you.

Your fingers were still intertwined with his, the warmth of his skin grounding you as your grip softened. The way he looked at you stirred something deep in your chest—a mix of familiarity and something new, something that had been quietly growing between you, unnoticed by you until now. You felt it in the way his fingers twitched slightly against yours, in the way his eyes flickered with both nervousness and longing, and in the faint quiver of his breath as he waited to see what you would do.

You leaned forward slightly, your eyes tracing the curve of his jaw, the faint freckles across his cheeks, and the blush that was deepening with every passing second. He froze, his breath hitching as his lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Your heart pounded as you leaned closer, the air between you thick with anticipation, every breath feeling sharp and unsteady. His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something raw crossing his face, and his body stilled, as though the moment might shatter if he moved.

Then, just as you were sure he might pull away, he moved too. Slowly, cautiously, like he was afraid to break whatever delicate thread was pulling the two of you together.

Your noses brushed, and the warmth of his breath ghosted against your lips. For a moment, your eyes locked, searching his as your heart pounded in your chest. And then, finally, his eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned in fully.

Your lips met his, soft and warm, and your thoughts came to a screeching halt. You hadn’t expected him to feel like this—gentle, steady, but with a hesitant edge that made your chest tighten. He tasted good, the faint hint of peppermint chapstick mixing with something else, something distinctly Kyle. His scent filled your senses too, clean and sharp, like pine and something earthy, comforting in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

The kiss wasn’t frantic or rushed, but the closeness of him, the warmth radiating from his skin, made your stomach flutter. You felt hyper-aware of everything—the way his curls brushed lightly against your temple, the slight shift of his hand against yours, the soft sound of his breath mixing with yours.

And then, the thoughts hit you all at once, a flood of realizations that made your cheeks burn. He tasted good. He smelled good. He felt good.

You weren’t supposed to be thinking about your best friend like this.

Panic bubbled up in your chest, and before you could stop yourself, you pulled back, breaking the kiss. You didn’t look at him immediately, your face hot with embarrassment as your thoughts spun out of control.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, your voice shaky. “I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Kyle blinked, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and concern. His lips parted slightly, still tinged with the faintest blush of your kiss, but he didn’t say anything at first.

You shook your head, stumbling over your words as you tried to explain. “I don’t even know what I was thinking. I just—I don’t know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Hey,” Kyle interrupted softly, his voice steady despite the obvious flush on his face. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on you. “Don’t… don’t apologize.”

You froze, your breath catching as his words registered. Hesitantly, you looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. His expression was calmer now, the edges of his earlier nervousness softened by something deeper.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” His hand squeezed yours gently, grounding you. “If anyone should apologize,” he added, his voice dipping slightly, “it’s probably me. I’ve been holding this back for so long, and I didn’t know if you’d… if you’d feel the same way.”

You were silent, his words settling over you like a weight. Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it, and your palms felt clammy where they rested against his. You tried to look at him, but the intensity in his gaze made it impossible.

Finally, with a shaky breath, you murmured, “I do.”

Kyle froze, his eyes widening slightly.

“I feel the same way,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You kept your gaze down, your face hot as the words left your lips. “I didn’t realize it before, but… I do.”

The silence that followed was thick with anticipation, a weight pressing down on you as you waited for him to respond. Then, slowly, Kyle’s hand slipped from yours, and you thought for a brief, terrible moment that he was pulling away. But instead, his hands came up to your face, his palms warm and steady against your cheeks.

“Look at me,” he said softly, his thumbs brushing lightly against your skin.

You hesitated, but the gentle insistence in his voice drew your eyes to his. The vulnerability in his gaze was gone now, replaced with something stronger, more certain.

And then he leaned in.

This time, the kiss wasn’t hesitant or unsure. It was deeper, more fervent, as though he was pouring everything he’d been holding back into this one moment. His lips moved against yours with a newfound confidence, his hands keeping your face tilted toward him.

Your hands instinctively came up, gripping the fabric of his hoodie as your body leaned closer to his. The warmth of him, the way his breath mingled with yours, sent your heart racing in a way that made your head spin.

Kyle tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, his fingers threading lightly through your hair. There was nothing awkward about it now, no hesitation—just him, fully and completely.

You tried to keep up with him, matching the movement of his lips, but Kyle was… really good at this. His confidence caught you off guard, and the way he kissed you—like he’d been waiting for this moment forever—made your head spin.

When his teeth grazed your bottom lip, your breath hitched, and you gasped softly. Kyle didn’t miss the opportunity. His tongue slipped into your mouth, hot and insistent, tangling with yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your fingers gripped his hoodie tighter, twisting the fabric as your body leaned closer to his. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his steady hands holding you in place as if to anchor you. The sound of your shallow breathing mixed with his as you panted softly into his mouth, your chest brushing against his with every shaky inhale.

Kyle’s hands slid down slightly, his thumbs brushing the corners of your jaw, and the gentle pressure made your heart race even faster. His kiss was intoxicating—both tender and hungry at the same time, leaving you completely breathless. A quiet sound escaped your throat—a mix between a whimper and a sigh—and you felt Kyle respond immediately, his lips pressing harder against yours as he tilted your head back slightly.

Heat surged through you, sudden and overwhelming, like a fire had been lit under your skin. You couldn’t hold back anymore. Your arms slipped up, wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer, your fingers tangling slightly in the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

The kiss grew messier, less controlled, as your movements became more frantic. Your lips moved against his with a clumsy urgency, each kiss wetter and more uneven than the last. You could feel your inexperience showing in every hurried motion, the lack of rhythm, the way your breaths came in ragged gasps between each connection. You hoped Kyle didn’t notice, even as you felt the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck. But if he did, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned into you, his movements steady and sure, meeting your sloppy kisses with a patience that made your stomach flip.

The warmth of his chest brushed against yours, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted to feel him fully, to close the space between you entirely. Acting on impulse, you tightened your arms around his neck and tugged him closer, pressing his chest firmly against yours.

The sudden closeness pulled a sharp inhale from Kyle, and you felt the sound vibrate against your lips. His hands slipped down, gripping your waist with surprising firmness as he steadied you, his thumbs brushing along your sides in a way that sent a shiver through you.

The room felt impossibly hot now, your body buzzing with sensations that were almost too much to process. You weren’t sure what you were doing, only that you didn’t want to stop.

Kyle pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his eyes locking onto yours, his pupils blown wide. His lips were red and slightly swollen, glistening from your kisses, and his breathing was as uneven as yours.

“You’re…” He paused, his voice husky as he swallowed hard. “You’re killing me here.”

His words made your face burn even hotter, and you pressed your hands to your cheeks, feeling the heat radiating from your skin. Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible as you dropped your gaze. “I suck at this.”

Kyle blinked, and then his lips curled into a soft, teasing smile. “You’re apologizing?” he asked, his tone incredulous but playful.

You nodded, still avoiding his eyes. “Yeah… I mean, I’ve never really done this before… besides at that party. I’m still probably so bad.”

Kyle let out a quiet laugh, the sound warm and low as he leaned back slightly to look at you. “Bad?” he repeated, arching an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t say bad. Let’s call it… enthusiastic.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my God. Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not making fun of you,” Kyle said, his voice light but steady. You peeked at him through your fingers and saw the way his eyes softened as he looked at you. “I’m just saying, if you’re worried about being bad, don’t be. We’ve got all night, and I’m a pretty good teacher.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the playful edge in his tone making your stomach flip. “All night?” you repeated, your voice trembling slightly.

Kyle leaned in closer, his hands resting on either side of your waist as his grin widened just a little. “Yeah,” he said softly, his voice dipping as his eyes locked onto yours. “Stan’s not letting us out, remember? Might as well make the most of it.”

The teasing glint in his eyes made your cheeks burn even more, but there was something reassuring in his expression, something that made you feel safe despite how embarrassed you were.

“Okay,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “But don’t laugh at me.”

Kyle’s smile softened, and he reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “I wouldn’t dare,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

You smiled back at him, your chest feeling lighter as the tension between you eased. But as his words lingered in your mind, a flicker of nervous energy surged through you. You hesitated for a moment, your fingers twitching slightly before you shrugged off your jacket and let it fall onto the bed.

Kyle’s brows raised slightly at the movement, his eyes following the fabric as it slipped from your shoulders. “Uh… okay,” he started, his voice tinged with curiosity, but you moved before he could finish.

You climbed onto his lap, straddling him, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of him.

He drew in a sharp breath, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your waist. “Whoa,” he muttered, his voice teetering between surprise and amusement.

You felt your face heat up instantly, a mix of confidence and embarrassment warring inside you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks.

Kyle chuckled softly, the warmth of his breath brushing against your ear. “Someone’s eager,” he teased, his fingers twitching lightly against your sides. “Didn’t you just say you were new to this?”

You groaned into his neck, your cheeks burning. “Shut up,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his skin.

His laugh deepened, the vibration of it sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m just saying,” he added playfully, “for someone who says they’re bad at this, you’re doing pretty good so far.”

You hummed softly against his neck, the sound more nervous than confident, as you pressed a light kiss to the curve of his shoulder. His warmth was comforting, and even though your heart raced with nerves, you didn’t pull away. Slowly, you tilted your head, letting your lips linger before sucking gently at his skin.

The faint taste of salt and the warmth of his pulse under your mouth made your chest flutter, but you hesitated, unsure if you were doing it right. You tried again, a little harder this time, your lips pressing more firmly as you sucked lightly.

Kyle stiffened beneath you, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested on your waist. For a moment, he seemed quiet, and you wondered if you’d done something wrong—until a low, quiet sound slipped from his throat.

It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to send a thrill through you. A subtle shudder ran through him, his hands settling more firmly against your sides as you continued, your lips brushing against his skin.

“Y-you don’t have to do that,” Kyle murmured, his voice unsteady, almost shy. But he didn’t pull away.

You paused, your lips hovering just over his neck. “I just…” you whispered, your face burning. “I wanted to try.”

Kyle’s fingers flexed against your sides, his breathing uneven as he swallowed hard. “It feels… good,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

His words sent a wave of nervous excitement through you, and you pressed another kiss to his skin, your inexperience making your movements clumsy but earnest. You tried to mimic what he’d done to you at the party, lightly sucking and grazing your teeth against his neck.

Another sound escaped him, rougher this time, and you felt his hands tighten around your waist as his head tilted back slightly.

You pulled back for a moment, your lips tingling, and glanced up at him. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark and hazy, and his lips were parted like he was about to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Your lips curled into a small, shy smile as you leaned back down, pressing another kiss to the faint mark you’d left on his neck. The quiet hum of satisfaction that came from him made your chest tighten, and you couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you.

“You’re laughing at me now?” Kyle muttered, his voice thick with embarrassment, though his lips twitched upward.

“Not at you,” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin. “I just… I’m glad you don’t hate it.”

Kyle let out a shaky laugh, his fingers pressing gently against your sides. “Yeah, no chance of that.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips, your heart feeling lighter than it had all day. The tension and anger that had hung over you earlier now felt like a distant memory, almost impossible to believe it had been real. Just hours ago, you’d been yelling, hurling insults at each other, and now… now, things were different. Not completely back to normal—this was uncharted territory—but the warmth in Kyle’s touch and the soft, steady way he looked at you made you feel safe, like the foundation of your friendship was still there, just with something new layered over it.

You leaned in again, your lips finding his neck. The skin there was warm and soft, and you pressed a series of light kisses upwards, trailing toward his jaw. You heard him exhale softly, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as you moved closer.

When you reached his jawline, you lingered, kissing the sharp edge of it before humming softly against his skin. The sound was quiet, but the way Kyle shivered beneath you told you it had an effect. His reaction sent a small thrill through you, and you kissed along his jaw until you reached the corner of his mouth.

You pressed a soft kiss there, your lips brushing his skin so lightly it was almost a tease. Kyle turned his head slightly, his green eyes meeting yours as a small, knowing smirk spread across his face.

The expression made your heart skip, and you giggled, the sound bubbling out of you as you leaned in again. “What’s that look for?” you murmured, your voice soft but playful.

Kyle didn’t answer, his smirk widening slightly as his hands shifted higher on your sides. His gaze was steady, amused, but there was warmth there too—something that made your chest feel tight in the best way. You pressed a fleeting kiss to his lips, your cheeks burning as you let yourself get caught up in the moment. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and even though it was brief, the kiss sent sparks shooting through you.

Kyle shifted slightly beneath you, adjusting his position on the bed. The movement made you gasp softly, your breath catching in your throat as heat surged through your body.

Your eyes flicked downward, taking in the way you were straddling him, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his hips. The closeness, the weight of the moment, was almost tangible. Your hands pressed against his chest for balance, but it only made you more aware of his warmth beneath your palms.

Kyle noticed the slight furrow of your brow, his green eyes softening with concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked gently, his voice quiet but steady.

You shook your head quickly, the warmth in your cheeks spreading as you glanced up at him. “Nothing,” you murmured, though your voice came out shakier than you intended.

Kyle didn’t look convinced, tilting his head slightly as his hands rested lightly on your waist. “You sure?” he pressed, his tone careful but curious.

You hesitated, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the fabric of his hoodie. Your heart raced as you searched for the words, your throat tightening as the question formed. Finally, you took a deep breath and spoke, your voice quiet but clear.

“Is it… okay if we go further tonight?”

Kyle froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as your words hung in the air. His lips parted, and a delicate shiver seemed to ripple through him, but he didn’t pull away or tense under you.

You rushed to continue, your cheeks burning as you stumbled over your explanation. “I—I mean, if you’re okay with it. I want to, but I don’t want to make you feel like you have to or—”

“Hey,” Kyle interrupted softly, his thumbs brushing against your sides in a soothing motion. “Slow down.”

You stopped, your breath shaky as you looked at him nervously. His expression was calm now, a small smile tugging at his lips as he held your gaze.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low but gentle. “You don’t have to do this just because you think I want it.”

You nodded quickly, a rush of heat flooding through you. “I’m sure,” you said firmly, though your voice was still a little shaky. “I want to, Kyle. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

Kyle’s gaze softened, his fingers pressing gently into your sides. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice steady and warm. His eyes searched yours for a moment longer, as if to make absolutely certain, before he leaned forward, his lips brushing softly against yours.

The warmth of his kiss sent a spark racing down your spine, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. A rush of excitement bubbled up inside you, and your lips parted eagerly against his. Without hesitation, you slid your tongue into his mouth, meeting his in a bold, messy kiss.

Kyle let out a soft, muffled sound of surprise, his initial hesitation melted quickly, and he began to kiss you back with a fervor that only fueled your eagerness.

Your body buzzed with energy, you wiggled slightly in his lap, trying to get closer. The movement earned a sharp inhale from Kyle, and you felt his fingers dig into your sides as he let out a low groan.

You couldn’t stop yourself; your hands slipped down, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The heat between you was overwhelming, and all you wanted was to feel more, to close the gap between you completely.

You tugged at your shirt, lifting it slightly, but you didn’t want to break the kiss. It was messy and frantic now, your lips clashing as your breathing grew heavier. Kyle seemed to notice what you were doing, and one of his hands slid up to your wrist, halting your movements gently.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to speak, his lips brushing against yours as he panted softly. “Wait—wait a second,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. His eyes flicked down to your hands and back up to meet your gaze, his face flushed.

You froze, your cheeks burning as embarrassment crept up your neck. “I didn’t mean to—” you started, but Kyle shook his head, a small, breathless smile tugging at his lips.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, his tone reassuring as his thumb brushed lightly against your side. “Just… let me help.”

You hummed excitedly, your smile widening as you looked at him. Your cheeks were hot, and your heartbeat thundered in your ears, but the thrill of the moment overwhelmed any lingering nerves.

Kyle’s lips quirked into a smirk, his eyes glinting with both amusement and something deeper. “You’re really not gonna make this easy for me, are you?” he teased, shaking his head slightly.

“Not my fault you’re slow,” you shot back, your tone playfully defiant despite the heat rushing to your face.

Kyle scoffed, the sound low and amused, as he leaned forward to kiss you briefly, his lips brushing yours before pulling back. “Alright, then,” he murmured, his voice dropping slightly. “Guess I’ll pick up the pace.”

His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing your skin lightly as he tugged it upward. The sensation sent a shiver through you, and you instinctively raised your arms, letting him pull the fabric over your head in one smooth motion.

The shirt landed somewhere on the floor, forgotten, as Kyle sat back slightly to take you in.

You suddenly felt hyper-aware of everything—the way his gaze lingered on you, the faint bow on your cutesy bra, the warmth of his hands still resting on your waist. Your arms twitched, almost moving to cover yourself, but when you glanced at him, the look in his eyes stopped you.

Kyle’s face was flushed, his lips slightly parted as his gaze traced over you with a quiet intensity that made your chest tighten. His expression wasn’t teasing now; it was soft, almost reverent.

“You look really good,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the red creeping up his neck.

The compliment made your heart flutter, and you couldn’t stop the shy smile that tugged at your lips. “Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice quieter now, but you didn’t look away.

Kyle’s lips curved into a small smile, his fingers gently toying with the straps of your bra. “Cute bra,” he added, his tone lighter, though there was an edge of playfulness to it.

You let out a soft laugh, your face heating even more. “Stop looking at it so much, perv,” you said, though your tone was teasing as you leaned closer, pressing a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Kyle chuckled softly, “Can’t help it,” he admitted quietly. “You’re kind of hard to look away from.”

You shook your head, a breathy laugh escaping your lips as warmth crept up your neck. “You’re so full of it,” you muttered.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he watched you fidget. “Am I?” he teased.

Still laughing lightly, you reached for the hem of his hoodie, your fingers brushing the soft fabric. “It’s your turn now,” you said, your voice quieter, laced with a mix of shyness and playfulness.

Kyle blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your boldness, but his surprise quickly shifted into curiosity. “My turn?” he repeated, tilting his head slightly.

You nodded, tugging gently at the hoodie, trying to pull it upward but hesitating as you glanced at him. “Yeah,” you murmured, your gaze flicking nervously to his before darting away. “I’m not going to be the only one sitting here half-naked.”

Kyle let out a low chuckle, leaning back slightly to give you more room. “Alright, alright,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. “But I’ll warn you now—I’m blindingly pale. It’s a hazard to look directly at me under good lighting.”

You rolled your eyes, though your lips twitched into a small smile. “Kyle, I’ve seen you shirtless before. I think I can handle it.”

He snorted, shaking his head as he reached for the hem of his hoodie. “You’ve got a point,” he muttered, lifting it over his head in one smooth motion.

The hoodie ruffled his curls as it came off, leaving his hair a little messy. He tossed it aside carelessly, leaning back again as his eyes met yours, his cheeks faintly pink.

Your eyes trailed over him, taking in the soft planes of his chest and the faint freckles dusted across his shoulders. He wasn’t overly muscular, but there was a subtle strength in the way his body moved, probably years from basketball.

“Well?” Kyle asked, his lips curving into a crooked smile as he noticed your lingering stare. “Do I pass the test?”

You felt your face heat even more, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up. “Yeah,” you murmured, your voice soft. “You pass.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure what to do next. A prickling heat rose in your neck and face, and as the stillness lingered, a nervous energy bubbled up. You rubbed your arms awkwardly, your gaze flicking between his face and the space between you. You wanted to say something, to ask him what to do, but the words stuck in your throat.

Kyle noticed your hesitation immediately, his eyes softening. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he tilted his head slightly, leaning closer. His hand brushed against your arm, steadying you, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

“You’re overthinking,” he said softly, his tone low and reassuring.

Your cheeks burned, and you glanced down, embarrassed. “I’m not—”

“You are,” Kyle interrupted, his voice calm but firm, as if he’d seen right through you. His hand moved to your waist, his touch deliberate yet careful. He guided you closer, closing the space between you effortlessly.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours. “Just let me take care of it.”

A sharp inhale escaped you as he leaned in, his hand moving to gently cup your cheek. When his lips met yours, it wasn’t rushed or hurried. His kiss was soft and steady, each movement unhurried, like he was coaxing you out of your nervousness and silently telling you that everything was going to be okay.

Kyle tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss just enough to pull you closer without overwhelming you. The faintest hum came from him, a soft sound of encouragement that made your chest tighten in the best way.

When he pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering over yours, his thumb brushed your cheek. His gaze was steady, his eyes warm and full of patience. “Better?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your face hot as you leaned back in, your lips catching his again, softer this time but filled with a growing confidence.

As the kiss deepened, you pressed yourself impossibly close to him, your body instinctively seeking more of the warmth and steadiness he offered. The soft fabric of your bra brushed against his bare chest, and the sensation sent a shiver through you. Your breath hitched slightly, the realization of how close you were making your heart race.

Your hands, clammy with nervous energy, moved from his shoulders to his hair, tangling lightly in his curls. The softness of them beneath your fingers was surprising, comforting, and you used the touch to steady yourself as you tilted your head, leaning further into him.

But as the kiss continued, the heat between you became almost unbearable. The denim of your jeans felt heavy, clinging too tightly to your skin, and the warmth pooling in your body made it impossible to sit still. You shifted in Kyle’s lap, adjusting yourself instinctively, and the motion caused you to gasp softly, your breath hitching against his lips. The sound seemed to break something in him because his hands pulled you just a little closer. His grip was steady but firm, grounding you even as everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.

A flutter stirred deep in your stomach as you grinded again, this time more purposefully. The friction sent another jolt through you, and a quiet whimper slipped from your lips before you could stop it. You froze for a second, embarrassed by the sound, but Kyle didn’t falter. If anything, he kissed you harder, his lips pressing into yours with a newfound urgency that left you breathless.

The heat between you was unbearable, your core throbbing with a desperate need that seemed to pulse through every inch of you. Your hips ground against his, the slick friction sending waves of pleasure that curled your toes and made your breaths hitch. Each roll of your body against his made you whimper softly, your panties soaked as you pressed closer, needing more, craving him entirely.

Kyle groaned against your lips, the sound low and rough, and his hands slid down to your hips. His grip tightened again, guiding you as your movements became more frantic.

But then, his hands moved lower.

Before you could register what was happening, his fingers curled into the flesh of your ass, squeezing firmly as he stilled your movements. The sudden shift made you gasp, your lips parting from his as you blinked down at him, dazed.

Kyle’s chest heaved, his face flushed, and his eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath catch. But there was something else there too—something almost panicked.

You pulled back slightly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice trembling as you tried to process what had just happened. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop,” Kyle interrupted, his voice low but firm. His hands stayed on your hips, steadying you as he shook his head. “Don’t apologize.”

You blinked at him, confused. “But I—”

“It’s my fault,” he said quickly, his voice dropping as his gaze darted away for a moment. His cheeks flushed even darker, and he let out a shaky breath. “I… I was about to come.”

The bluntness of his confession hit you like a lightning bolt, your face growing impossibly hot as your body went still. “Oh,” you whispered, the word barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat.

Kyle’s grip on your hips loosened slightly, his thumbs brushing softly against your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “I should’ve stopped sooner,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “I just… you felt so good, and I—” He cut himself off, his gaze flicking back to yours, raw and vulnerable. “I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him, your face hot with a mixture of embarrassment and uncertainty. You hesitated for a moment, your lips parting as you tried to summon the courage to speak. The pounding of your heart in your ears was deafening, and when you finally forced the words out, your voice was soft, trembling.

“Can I… suck you off?”

He froze.

The atmosphere shifted in an instant, his gaze locking onto yours with an unguarded intensity that sent a shiver through you. His lips parted slightly, as though he wanted to speak, but silence hung between you. Surprise flickered across his face, quickly replaced by an undeniable hunger—a mix of yearning and restraint that made your breath catch. His jaw clenched, his teeth pressing together as if he were holding himself back, and his fingers skimmed your sides with a touch so light it felt like a tease, leaving a trail of warmth that made your stomach flip.

“Did you…” He trailed off, his voice rough as he blinked, his throat working as he swallowed hard. “Did you just ask—”

“Yes,” you interrupted, your cheeks flushing even darker as you avoided his gaze. “I mean it. I—I want to.”

Kyle exhaled sharply, his hands brushing over your sides before sliding away entirely, gripping the edge of the bed instead. His fingers dug into the fabric, knuckles paling as though anchoring himself. He leaned back slightly, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths as he processed your words.

“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice quieter now, but there was no teasing in his tone—only disbelief that made the air between you feel heavy.

You nodded quickly, your heart racing as you shifted slightly, your thighs brushing against his. “Yes,” you said again, barely above a whisper.

Kyle’s gaze darkened, his eyes flicking over your face like he was searching for any sign of hesitation. When he didn’t find any, his jaw clenched, and his lips pressed into a thin line. The tension in his posture eased slightly as he sat up straighter, his knees brushing against yours.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice low and steady, though there was a faint tremor beneath it. His hands moved back to your thighs, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent a jolt of warmth up your spine. “But… if you want to stop at any point—”

“I won’t,” you cut him off, your voice firm despite the heat rushing to your face.

Kyle’s lips curved ever so slightly, the fleeting expression gone as quickly as it appeared. He shifted back a touch, his hands drifting from your thighs to grip the edge of the bed. His green eyes lingered on you, his voice soft when he spoke. “Alright,” he murmured. “Go ahead.”

You smiled at him, the corners of your lips curling shyly as you reached out and squeezed his hand. The simple touch steadied you, and a soft giggle slipped from your lips, breaking some of the tension in the air.

Sliding off the bed, you settled onto the carpet between his knees, the plush fibers soft beneath you as you adjusted yourself. Your hands rested gently on his knees, the warmth of his skin radiating through the fabric of his sweatpants.

The position struck you immediately. The memory surged forward unbidden: Kyle on his knees, the way his fingers had curled against you, his sharp words biting into the tension-filled air.

“This is what you wanted, right?” his voice echoed in your mind, the sharp edge of his tone still vivid, as if he’d spoken those words only seconds ago. The way he’d mocked you, his lips curling into that bitter smirk, had made your chest ache even as it set every nerve in your body alight.

Your fingers flexed against his knees, grounding yourself in the present. You glanced up at Kyle now, his expression a stark contrast to that earlier moment. The mockery was gone; his eyes held only warmth and a cautious sort of curiosity. His chest rose and fell slowly, his hands resting on the edge of the bed, his grip tight but not aggressive.

“You okay down there?” Kyle asked, breaking through your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, your voice quiet but firm. You smiled again, the memory fading as you refocused on him.

His gaze softened, and he shifted slightly in his seat, his knees brushing against your hands as he adjusted his posture. The movement drew your attention back to the task at hand, the heat between you flaring up once more as you leaned forward slightly.

You hooked your fingers under the hemline of his pants, the motion deliberate despite the trembling in your hands. Slowly, you began to tug them down, your movements careful as if drawing out the moment would help ease the knot of nerves in your stomach. Kyle lifted his hips slightly, helping you, his breathing audible now in the charged silence.

As the waistband slid lower, your gaze dropped, and your breath hitched when you caught sight of him. The black fabric of his boxers strained against his bulge, a dark patch of precum near the tip drawing your attention immediately. The sight sent a wave of heat rushing through you, your cheeks burning as you blinked, struggling to process the image in front of you.

Kyle shifted slightly, the motion pulling your focus lower. The faint freckles that dotted his thighs caught your attention next, scattered across his pale skin like constellations. The juxtaposition of the delicate freckles against the strength in his legs made your throat tighten.

Your hands moved instinctively, steadying yourself on his thighs as you leaned closer. His skin was warm beneath your palms, the faint roughness of his hair brushing against your fingertips. You tried to focus on the texture, on the sensation of his skin under your hands, but your gaze kept darting back to the wet patch on his boxers.

Kyle’s chest rose and fell unevenly, his hands gripping the edge of the bed tightly. He didn’t say anything, but the tension in his expression was palpable. His jaw tightened briefly, his lips pressing into a firm line, and the faint flush creeping up his neck deepened.

You offered him a nervous smile, your cheeks burning as your fingers twitched against his thighs. The freckled skin beneath your hands was warm and grounding, but the weight of the moment still made your palms clammy. You rubbed them lightly against his legs, as if trying to steady yourself.

Kyle’s eyes softened slightly, and he gave you a weak, tentative smile in return, though the tension in his posture didn’t completely dissipate.

Rocking forward on your heels, you leaned up toward him, pressing the lightest of kisses to his lips. The contact was fleeting but enough to make his breath catch, his hands loosening their grip on the bed for a moment.

You hovered close to him, your lips brushing his as you murmured, “Is this really okay?” Your voice was soft, uncertain, and laced with the nervous energy buzzing through you.

Kyle’s throat worked as he swallowed, his gaze locked on yours. His eyes flicked between your face and the boxers you were tugging at, his breathing growing heavier. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice rough and strained but clear. “It’s okay.”

His words sent a wave of warmth through you, a flicker of reassurance cutting through your nerves. You kissed him again, this time lingering a little longer, the faint taste of his breath mingling with yours as your fingers curled more firmly around the waistband of his boxers.

Kyle groaned softly against your lips, as his hands hovered by his sides, like he was resisting the urge to touch you. “Go ahead,” he murmured, the words half-whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

You nodded faintly, your lips brushing his once more before you pulled back just enough to focus on what came next. Your fingers tightened slightly against the waistband, and with one more glance up at Kyle, you slowly began to ease the fabric downward, a shiver running through you as you revealed him inch by inch. Kyle shifted slightly, lifting his hips to help you, a quiet exhale escaping him as the fabric slid lower. The soft cotton clung to him momentarily, and then, in a sudden, fluid motion, it slipped past his thighs and down to his ankles.

His cock sprang free, slapping lightly against his stomach with a faint, wet sound that sent a shiver through you. The movement left a smear of precum glistening on the pale skin above his navel, and the sight of it made your cheeks flush even hotter.

This was the first time you’d seen one in person, and you couldn’t help but stare. Kyle’s cock was long and thick, the shaft a shade darker than the rest of his pale, freckled skin, with faint veins running along its length. The head was flushed a deep pink, almost red, the slick sheen of precum making it glisten faintly in the dim light.

The faint curve of it toward his stomach gave it a graceful shape, and the sight struck you as unexpectedly… beautiful. His freckles continued down his thighs, faint and scattered, accentuating the way his muscles flexed beneath his skin.

You swallowed hard, your breath catching as you took it all in. Your fingers rested on his thighs for balance, and your eyes flicked back up to his face. Kyle’s lips were parted, his breathing shallow, and his gaze burned into you with a focus that made your stomach twist in the best way.

“Hey,” Kyle said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but there was no teasing in his tone—just a steady reassurance that steadied your nerves. “You okay down there?”

You nodded quickly, your voice catching in your throat as you replied, “Yeah. I just… you’re really…” You trailed off, biting your lip as your cheeks burned brighter.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, his smirk softening into something closer to a genuine smile. “Really what?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“Pretty,” you admitted quietly, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

Kyle blinked, clearly caught off guard, and for a moment, his confident demeanor cracked. His cheeks flushed a deeper red, and he let out a soft, breathless laugh. “I—thanks, I guess,” he said, his voice breaking slightly.

You hummed softly in reply, your throat too tight to form proper words as you adjusted your position on your knees. Tentatively, you reached out, your hand hovering for a moment before carefully wrapping around him.

Your thumb brushed lightly against the silky head, the feeling unfamiliar, and your eyes caught the bead of precum pooling there, glistening faintly in the dim light. Then with a slow, shaky exhale, you swiped your thumb over the tip, gathering the slick wetness. Kyle’s breath hitched audibly at the motion, and you glanced up at him, your cheeks burning as you met his heavy-lidded gaze.

Taking his reaction as encouragement, you smeared the precum along the length of his cock, your fingers spreading it in slow, deliberate strokes. The slickness made your movements smoother, and you felt the tension in his thighs beneath your other hand as his breathing grew heavier.

The warmth of him, the way his cock twitched faintly under your touch, sent a strange mix of nerves and anticipation curling in your stomach. Once you’d coated him thoroughly, you glanced up at Kyle again, your voice trembling as you asked, “What do I do now?”

His eyes flicked down to meet yours, his brows furrowed slightly as he processed your words. For a moment, he just stared at you, his lips parting as if searching for the right thing to say.

“Just… move your hand,” he said finally, his voice rough and low. “Up and down, like this.” He made a small gesture with his hand, his cheeks flushing deeper as he tried to guide you.

You nodded quickly, your gaze dropping back to him as you wrapped your hand more firmly around his length. Slowly, you slid your hand down, the slickness making the movement easier, before gliding back up.

Kyle let out a sharp exhale, his fingers curling against the edge of the bed as his hips shifted slightly beneath you. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice tight. “Just like that.”

You adjusted your grip, your hand moving more fluidly as you grew accustomed to the motion. Each pass drew a faint reaction from him—a sharp inhale, the flex of his thighs under your touch—and you found yourself drawn to his every sound and movement.

“Good,” Kyle muttered, his voice strained but sincere. His eyes softened as he looked down at you, his lips parting as if to say something else, but the words caught in his throat. “You’re doing… really good.”

The praise sent a thrill through you, a rush of anticipation flooding your senses as you glanced up at him. The sight of his flushed cheeks, his slightly parted lips, and the way his lashes fluttered when your hand moved just right made your pulse race even faster.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice shaking but determined as you continued, your movements growing steadier and more confident with each stroke.

Kyle let out a shaky breath, his head tipping back slightly. He bit down on his lower lip, clearly trying to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, but the faintest groan slipped past anyway. His hips shifted forward almost unconsciously, and his hands moved, one settling lightly on the back of your head, the other brushing against your hair as though steadying himself.

You glanced up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the sight. His green eyes were half-lidded, their sharp focus unwavering, tracing every subtle movement you made. A faint crease formed between his brows, as though he were concentrating too hard, and the flush on his cheeks deepened with every passing second, highlighting the freckles scattered across his skin. His jaw was tight, the muscle twitching slightly, and his lips pressed together in a way that suggested he was fighting to keep his composure. The intensity in his gaze, paired with the way his shoulders seemed locked with tension, told you everything he wasn’t saying aloud.

Your fingers tightened slightly around him, your breath catching as you hesitated. “Kyle,” you murmured softly, your voice barely audible over the sound of his uneven breathing.

His gaze dropped to meet yours immediately, his brows furrowing slightly as though worried he’d done something wrong. “Yeah?” he asked.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks burning as you shifted your grip slightly. “Can I… put it in my mouth now?” you asked quietly, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself.

Kyle’s eyes widened slightly, the tension in his expression flickering into something softer, though the flush on his face deepened. He exhaled sharply, his fingers brushing against your hair as though he couldn’t decide whether to guide you or give you space.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low and hoarse, barely above a whisper. “If you want to.”

Your lips curved into a small smile, the nervous energy in your chest giving way to something braver. You felt the wetness pooling in your mouth as you swallowed and leaned in closer. “Can you… guide me?” you whispered softly, your voice trembling.

Kyle’s chest rose subtly, his eyes locking onto yours as his hand shifted on the back of your head, his fingers brushing gently through your hair. He hummed softly, the sound low and quiet as it filled the space between you.

Tentatively, you stuck out your tongue, the slick sheen of your saliva catching the dim light as it pooled at the tip. A single bead dripped onto him, landing with a faint slick sound that made his thigh muscles flex beneath your hand.

Kyle let out a quiet, broken moan at the sensation, his fingers tightening slightly in your hair as though anchoring himself. Encouraged by his reaction, you leaned in further, pressing the softest of kisses to the head of his cock.

The saltiness of his precum mingled with your saliva, and you felt a faint shiver run through you as the unfamiliarity of it gave way to curiosity. Each kiss grew a little bolder, a little firmer, until your lips parted slightly, brushing the tip in a tentative caress.

As you adjusted your position, your other hand, still wrapped around the base of his length, squeezed reflexively, the pressure firmer than you intended.

“Ah—fuck,” Kyle gasped sharply, his hips jolting forward instinctively. His grip on your hair tightened momentarily before loosening as he let out a shaky breath. “Not so tight,” he muttered, his voice strained but soft, his flushed face glancing down at you with a mixture of surprise and reassurance.

Your face burned as you quickly relaxed your grip, glancing up at him apologetically. “Sorry,” you whispered, your lips brushing against the tip as you spoke, earning another quiet groan from him.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his tone slightly breathless. “Just keep going. You’re doing fine.”

His encouragement settled the nerves fluttering in your chest, and you leaned in once more, letting your tongue flick against him experimentally before pressing another kiss to his flushed tip. The soft sound he let out in response sent a thrill through you, bolstering your growing confidence.

Taking a steadying breath, you opened your mouth wider, your lips parting as you leaned in further. The warmth of him against your tongue was unfamiliar but not unpleasant, the faint saltiness mingling with the clean taste of his skin. You hummed softly at the sensation, the vibration making Kyle groan quietly above you.

You eased forward slowly, inch by inch, your lips stretching to accommodate him as the weight of his cock settled against your tongue. Your eyes fluttered shut briefly, the sensations overwhelming, but you forced them open again, wanting to see the way Kyle reacted. He bit his lip hard, his head tipping back slightly as his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. His hand tightened in your hair, not to force you but as if grounding himself in the moment.

As you took more of him in, the stretch made your jaw ache slightly, but you pushed through it, adjusting your position to make it easier. The salty slickness on your tongue made the glide smoother, and you felt yourself relaxing into the rhythm, inching closer and closer to the base.

Your eyes began to sting faintly, the effort making your breath hitch through your nose, but you didn’t stop. The faint hum of arousal pooling in your stomach only grew stronger, the wetness between your thighs becoming impossible to ignore as you leaned forward further.

The tip of him nudged at the back of your mouth, the pressure making you pause briefly to steady your breathing. Your fingers gripped his thighs for support, your nails digging in slightly as you adjusted to the sensation.

“Shit,” Kyle muttered above you, his voice rough and strained as he looked down, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded. “Fuck, [Y/N]… you’re…” He trailed off, his words dissolving into a shaky groan as his hips twitched forward slightly.

You glanced up at him, your gaze meeting his, and the intensity in his expression sent a shiver through you. His lips were parted, his face flushed, and the sight only spurred you on. You hummed again, the sound vibrating against him as you inched forward just a little more, the tip pressing deeper against the back of your throat.

A thought flickered through your mind, shaky and uncertain but insistent: you should probably start moving now. Slowly, you pulled back, his cock sliding along your tongue, slick and warm as you adjusted your grip on him. Your hand, still resting at the base, tightened slightly as you began to mimic the motion of your mouth. Leaning forward again, you let your lips close around him once more, inching downward and then back up in a tentative rhythm. The motion was clumsy at first, your movements unsure, but the quiet groans spilling from Kyle’s lips told you you were doing something right.

Saliva gathered quickly, pooling around your tongue and spilling messily from the corners of your mouth as you continued. The wet, slick sounds filled the room, each motion drawing more saliva until it coated his length and dripped onto your hand, glistening in the dim light.

A need burned low in your chest—not just to please him but to see how far you could take him. You glanced up through your lashes, meeting Kyle’s wide, uncertain eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his lips parted slightly, and though he tried to stay quiet, his chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths.

“K-Keep going,” he murmured, barely audible, his voice raw and strained. His hand hovered near your head, uncertain if he should touch you, but when you sank a little deeper, the tip brushing the back of your throat, his fingers curled into the sheets instead, gripping tightly.

Encouraged by his reaction, you pushed further, forcing yourself to relax as you took him deeper. The stretch made your throat tighten and your eyes water, but you didn’t pull back. You wanted him to lose control, even if you couldn’t say the words aloud. The wet, muffled sound of your gagging filled the room, and Kyle squeezed his eyes shut, his breath catching in his throat.

“Y-you don’t have to—” he whispered, his voice trembling as his other hand covered his mouth. His words dissolved into a soft, shaky groan when you hummed around him, the vibration making him twitch against your tongue. His hips jerked despite himself, and he immediately froze, his thighs tensing beneath your hands. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

You pulled back just enough to shake your head, your lips brushing over his sensitive skin in the process. Then you moved down again, slower this time, taking him as deep as you could, letting him feel every inch.

Kyle’s body stiffened, and he pressed his hand harder against his mouth to stifle a low, shaky moan. “Oh, God,” he mumbled, the words barely audible. His other hand hovered again, indecisive, before it finally settled on your cheek. His thumb brushed tentatively against your damp skin, trembling slightly. “I’m... I’m so close,” he whispered, his voice cracking as his eyes squeezed shut.

You didn’t pull back. If anything, you leaned in, silently urging him to let go. The taste of him lingered on your tongue, and you wanted more, needed to take all of him. Your hands tightened on his thighs, grounding him as you moved again, deeper, wetter, swallowing around him.

Kyle gasped softly, his hand leaving your cheek to clutch the bedpost for support. He muttered something too quiet to catch, his body trembling as he finally gave in. His release came in warm, heavy bursts, coating your tongue and sliding down your throat. You swallowed quickly, not letting a single drop escape, even as the taste lingered and his body shuddered beneath your touch.

When you finally pulled back, your lips red and swollen, Kyle was staring at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. His hand covered his mouth again, as if to hold in the sounds he hadn’t meant to make. His curls clung to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his face was impossibly flushed.

“You... you didn’t have to...” he started, his voice soft and breathless, but the words trailed off as he looked at you.

You swallowed the last traces of him, licking your lips, and ducked your head slightly, a shy heat creeping up your neck. “I wanted to,” you murmured, your voice quiet but steady.

Kyle’s chest rose and fell as he stared at you, his expression a mix of gratitude and awe. He didn’t speak, his words lost in the haze of the moment. Instead, his hand lingered against your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips with the gentlest touch, like he still couldn’t believe what had just happened.

You stayed on the floor, your knees pressing into the carpet as you gazed up at him. Your thighs pressed together subtly, the slick wetness between them making you shift slightly, your body humming with awareness.

Kyle’s hand didn’t move from your face, his thumb brushing over the corner of your mouth with an almost reverent touch. His other hand lifted, hesitant at first, before gently cradling the side of your head. His fingers slid through your hair, his touch so careful.

“You’re... amazing,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. His eyes searched yours, his gaze filled with something so pure. “I don’t even know how to... I mean, I—” He paused, his lips curving into a shy, nervous smile. “I just hope you know how much you mean to me.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest feel impossibly tight, your breath catching as you stared up at him. Your lips parted, but no words came out. All you could do was lean into his hand, your skin warming under his touch, your pulse quickening with every second that passed.

“Kyle...” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

He leaned forward slightly, his movements slow and unsure, as if afraid of scaring you off. “You’re okay, right?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek now. “I didn’t hurt you or—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head quickly. Your voice was steadier this time, though you still felt the nervousness coursing in your veins. “You didn’t hurt me. I just...”

Your words trailed off, your gaze flicking to his lips. They were so close, warm and inviting, and you couldn’t fight the pull any longer. Hesitantly, you leaned forward, your knees shifting against the floor as you moved closer.

Kyle’s breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand on your cheek moved to cradle your jaw, his touch as gentle as ever. “You can... if you want to,” he whispered, his voice trembling but impossibly sweet. “I’d like that.”

Encouraged by his words, you tilted your head and closed the gap, your lips meeting his in the softest, most tender kiss. His lips were warm and pliant, moving against yours with a hesitant sweetness that made your chest ache. He kissed you like you were fragile, like he wanted to savor every second, and it made your heart swell. You wondered if he could taste himself, and if he did, he didn’t seem to mind.

You kissed him again, your lips moving softly, savoring the warmth of his mouth. As your hand hesitated over the button of your jeans, your nerves mingled with the building heat between you. You fumbled slightly, the tiny metal button slipping against your fingers before finally popping free. The sound was quiet but loud in the stillness.

Kyle noticed the movement, his lips pausing against yours. He pulled back, his breath soft and warm as he spoke, “Wait... are you sure?” His eyes searched yours, not with hesitation, but with concern—like he wanted you to feel safe, to know you had all the time in the world.

You nodded, your face burning, your hands trembling as you pushed the denim down your thighs. “I... I want this,” you whispered, the words so soft they barely reached your own ears, let alone his.

Kyle exhaled a shaky breath, his lips parting as though he wanted to say something else, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, his hand moved to yours, his touch gentle as he steadied your fingers. “Okay,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “Just... let me know if it’s too much, alright?”

The cold air hit your skin as the jeans slipped to your knees, the sharp contrast making you shiver. You couldn’t help but glance away, your cheeks hot as you became hyperaware of the damp fabric of your panties, the way they clung to you in ways you couldn’t hide.

Kyle’s gaze followed yours, but there was no teasing in his expression—only quiet reverence. His lips curved into a soft smile, and his hand returned to your cheek, tilting your face back toward his. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly but filled with sincerity. “You don’t have to be nervous with me.”

A soft hum escaped your lips, a sound of quiet acknowledgment. You pushed yourself upward, moving slowly onto his lap, your thighs settling on either side of his hips. The sudden closeness made your heart race, the warmth of his body grounding you even as your nerves buzzed.

Kyle’s hands shifted instinctively to your waist, his fingers flexing lightly against your skin. “Hey,” he said softly. “You don’t have to rush.”

“I know,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You wrapped one arm around his neck, pulling him closer as your other hand moved behind your back, fumbling with the clasp of your bra. Then, you felt it: the firm press of his cock against your cunt, separated only by the thin fabric of your panties. The friction sent a jolt of heat through you, and you froze, your face flushing hotter. A wave of embarrassment washed over you as you shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure, but the movement only made it worse. Your clit brushed against him, and you bit your lip, a small sound escaping before you could stop it.

Kyle’s hands tightened subtly on your waist, steadying you. His voice was low when he spoke, soft but steady. “Don’t be embarrassed.” He tilted his head, catching your gaze with his warm, steady eyes. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You swallowed hard, your breath trembling as you tried to find your voice. “I just... it’s a lot,” you admitted quietly, glancing down as your fingers faltered on the clasp.

Kyle’s lips quirked into a gentle smile, and he leaned forward, brushing a featherlight kiss to your temple. “I know,” he said softly. “It’s a lot for me too.” His tone was sincere, devoid of teasing, but there was a quiet confidence in the way he held you—like he’d done this before and knew exactly how to make you feel safe.

With a small, reassuring hum, his hand slipped to your back, his fingers deftly undoing the clasp of your bra with practiced ease. “Here,” he murmured, his voice tinged with warmth as the fabric loosened. “Let me.”

You nodded, your cheeks burning as the bra slid down your arms. Kyle leaned back slightly, his gaze sweeping over you with an almost reverent intensity. Then, the corner of his mouth lifted into a mischievous smirk, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. “You’re blushing,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in to press a warm kiss to your temple. “It’s cute.”

You shot him a quick glare, your embarrassment spiking, but before you could say anything, his hands slid to your hips, guiding you with an effortless strength until your back pressed against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, cocooning you in his warmth, his breath brushing against your ear as he settled you comfortably against him.

“Relax,” he murmured softly, his voice impossibly tender but laced with just enough teasing to make your heart skip a beat. One hand trailed upward, cupping your tit before his fingers gently tugged at your nipple, rolling the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you, making your thighs clamp together instinctively.

“K-Kyle,” you stammered, but your voice broke into a soft whimper as his other hand slid lower, brushing over your panties. His touch was slow, his fingers traced the damp fabric, pressing lightly against your clit and drawing slow circles. The friction made your breath hitch, and a high-pitched squeal escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Your hands flew to your mouth, muffling the sound as your face burned hot with both pleasure and mortification. You twisted slightly in his hold, shooting him a sharp, pointed glare. “Stan, Cartman, and Kenny are downstairs!” you hissed under your breath, your voice urgent but breathy.

Kyle’s smirk only deepened, his eyes glittering with mischief as he pressed his lips to your shoulder. “Then you’d better keep quiet,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. “But I don’t think you can.”

His words made your stomach flip, and you bit down on your lip hard, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out as his hand continued its slow, maddening rhythm over your clit. His fingers on your nipple tugged gently again, and your resolve began to crumble.

You squirmed against him, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. His fingers pressed and circled over your clit making your head spin. You tried to steady your breathing, to regain even a shred of composure, but it was impossible. Every motion, every deliberate movement of his fingers, left you trembling.

Your head lolled to the side, exposing the curve of your neck, and his lips followed instinctively, brushing featherlight kisses against your skin. The warmth of his breath, the softness of his mouth, sent waves of heat rippling through you. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured softly, his voice trembling slightly, as if the words had slipped out before he could stop them.

A quiet whimper escaped you, your cheeks burning at his praise. “Don’t say that,” you whispered, your voice shaky and small, though your body betrayed you by leaning into his touch.

Kyle’s lips paused against your neck, and he pressed a firmer kiss there before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. “Why not?” he asked softly. His hand didn’t stop moving, his fingers still brushing over your clit in slow circles. “It’s true.”

You wanted to argue, to push back against the intensity of his gaze, but the warmth in his expression made it impossible. Instead, you turned your head away, burying your face against his shoulder as if that could shield you from the weight of the moment.

“I can feel how much you’re shaking,” he murmured. His hand on your chest moved, fingers trailing lightly along your ribs before resting over your racing heart. “You’re so incredible.”

The sweetness in his words made your stomach twist in a way that was both unbearable and intoxicating. “Kyle,” you whined, your voice breaking as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties. His fingers slid through your wetness, the first bare touch sending a jolt of pleasure so sharp you couldn’t hold back a gasp.

He stilled for a moment, his fingers hovering, and his other hand came to rest gently on your hip. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he said softly, his lips brushing against your temple as he spoke. “I mean it. Just say the word, and I’ll stop.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to look at him, your breaths shallow and uneven. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure.

Kyle nodded, his thumb brushing a soothing circle against your hip. “Okay,” he murmured. The reassurance in his voice, the steady way he spoke, made your chest ache even as your body burned with need. His fingers teased at your entrance, brushing against your slit with just enough pressure to make your hips jerk. The sensation was maddening, like he was savoring every second of the moment. His other arm stayed wrapped around you, holding you close as though you were the only thing that existed.

The memory struck suddenly and sharply—the party. The way he had knelt between your thighs, his mouth hot and hungry, his fingers plunging into you with a rhythm that left you crying out. You could still feel the heat of his tongue, the wet, obscene sounds that filled the room, the overwhelming sensation as your body gave in completely. The way you’d lost control, squirting all over him, had left you reeling with equal parts pleasure and humiliation.

The thought burned through you now, leaving you overwhelmed. Your chest tightened, a hot flush spreading across your skin. “Kyle,” you whimpered, your voice shaky as you pawed at his chest, pushing against him in a rush of embarrassment. “I can’t.”

Kyle froze immediately, his hands lifting from your body as you slid off the bed. “What happened?” he asked, his voice soft but tense, concern flickering in his eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”

You didn’t answer, your back to him as you crossed the room to the dresser. The drawer slid open with a creak, and you rifled through its cluttered contents, your fingers trembling slightly as you searched. “No, it’s not that,” you mumbled, your words rushed as you pushed past loose papers and random odds and ends. You knew Cartman’s mom kept condoms here somewhere—of course she did.

Kyle sat up straighter, his gaze following you as his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. “Then what is it?” he pressed, his voice firmer but still gentle, like he didn’t want to scare you off. “Talk to me.”

Your fingers finally brushed against the foil packet, and you pulled it free, the cool metal crinkling in your hand. You hesitated for a moment, staring down at it before turning back to him. “I just...” You swallowed hard, your cheeks burning. “I need to grab this first.”

Kyle’s eyes flicked to the packet, his expression softening as understanding dawned. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you quietly, his gaze steady and warm. When you stepped closer, his lips curved into a faint smile, and he reached out, taking the packet from your hand.

“Okay,” he said simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He set it aside on the bed before sliding his hands to your waist. His touch was sure and steady, grounding you as his eyes met yours. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, his tone soft.

You nodded, the tension in your chest easing slightly at his response. “I’m sure,” you said.

Kyle smiled again, a small, almost shy curve of his lips as his hands brushed over your hips, pulling you closer. “Good,” he murmured, his fingers trailing along your sides.

You stayed standing, your body buzzing with heat and nerves, unable to make yourself sit down just yet. The house was quiet except for the faint creak of old floorboards and the occasional muffled sound of laughter from downstairs.

Kyle removed his hands from you, causing you to look over and glance at him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his brows furrowed in concentration as he rolled the condom on. He looked so sure, so steady, and yet you felt like you were barely keeping it together. The image of him there—your best friend, the boy who’d been with you through everything—made your stomach twist in ways you couldn’t untangle.

Your chest tightened as you thought about the countless memories you’d shared. The hours spent talking, laughing, fighting, and making up. Every moment of your life seemed intertwined with his. And now, in this moment, you weren’t just best friends anymore.

Pressing your hands harder against your cheeks, you shook your head, trying to push away the thoughts threatening to overwhelm you. But they wouldn’t stop. You wanted him—not just now, not just like this. You wanted everything with him. The realization burned through you, leaving you trembling.

“Kyle,” you said suddenly, your voice breaking as you turned back to him.

He looked up, startled, his hands pausing mid-motion as his eyes met yours. Concern flickered across his face. “What? What’s wrong?”

Your heart was pounding, your hands clenching at your sides as you blurted out, “Will you be my boyfriend?”

The room went still, the air thick and heavy as the question hung between you. Kyle stared at you, his expression frozen in shock. “What?” he said softly, his voice barely audible.

You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to hold his gaze even as your cheeks burned. “I mean it,” your voice trembling. “I want you to be my boyfriend. I… I don’t want this to just be something we do. I want it to mean something. I want you.”

Kyle’s face softened, but his brows drew together, conflicted. He set the condom aside, his hands resting on his knees as he leaned forward slightly. “Are you serious?” he asked, his voice low and careful.

You nodded quickly. “I’ve never been more serious about anything. You’re my best friend, but I… I don’t just want to be your best friend anymore. I don’t think I can be. Not after this.”

Kyle’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath, his gaze dropping to the floor as he ran a hand through his curls. “This is… a lot,” he said quietly, his voice tight with emotion. “I don’t even know if I’d be good at that, at being your boyfriend.”

“You’re already good at it,” you said, stepping closer, your hands reaching for him. “You’ve always been good at it. You’ve always been there for me, Kyle. I trust you more than anyone. And this—this feels right. Doesn’t it feel right to you?”

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with so many emotions it made your chest ache. “It does,” he admitted softly. “But I’m scared. If I screw this up, I’m going to lose you, and I can’t—” He stopped, his words catching in his throat as he shook his head. “I can’t lose you.”

You squeezed his hands back, leaning closer, your forehead brushing against his. “You’re not going to lose me,” you whispered, your voice firm despite the tears threatening to spill. “You won’t.I trust you.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his breath coming shallow and uneven. Then, slowly, he nodded, his lips curving into a small, shaky smile. “Okay,” he said softly, the word carrying all the weight of his emotions. “Okay. I’ll be your boyfriend.”

The seriousness of the moment lingered for a beat longer before you giggled, a nervous, joyful sound that you couldn’t hold back. “That’s it? No dramatic speech? Just… okay?” you teased, leaning forward and giving his shoulder a playful push.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into something between a smirk and a grimace as he flicked your forehead lightly. “What, you want me to write it out for you? Sign a contract or something?” he asked, his voice dry but warm.

Still holding his hand, you glanced down at the way your fingers were intertwined, your laughter trailing off into a soft hum. The sight of your hands together, so familiar yet somehow different now, sent a strange but comforting warmth through you. But as your gaze shifted, you noticed something else—his cock, still hard, the condom snugly in place. The absurdity of the moment hit you all at once, and a burst of laughter escaped before you could stop it.

Kyle blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What now?” he asked, his ears reddening as his eyes darted between you and where your gaze had landed.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped between giggles, doubling over slightly as the laughter spilled out of you. “I just—it’s so funny! You’re sitting there with a condom on, looking all serious, like we’re in some kind of romance movie, and I’m—” You couldn’t finish, dissolving into laughter again as you clutched your stomach.

Kyle groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “Wow,” he muttered, but there was no irritation in his tone, only the faintest hint of amused exasperation. “You have this gift for ruining the moment, you know that?”

“I’m not ruining it!” you protested, trying to catch your breath. “It’s just—it’s us. Look at us!” You gestured between the two of you, a grin still tugging at your lips.

He shook his head, his hands dropping to his lap as he stared at you with mock dismay. “I’m starting to think this was a terrible idea,” he said, though the soft smile breaking through his expression betrayed him.

“Too late,” you quipped, biting your lip to stifle another giggle as you hooked your thumbs under the waistband of your panties. You began shimmying them down, the damp fabric sticking slightly to your skin as you wiggled your hips. The cool air against your thighs sent a shiver up your spine.

He sat up straighter, his eyes flicking between your face and your bare skin. “Wait—wait a second,” he said, holding up a hand like he was trying to slow the moment down. “Are you seriously laughing while…” He trailed off, his cheeks reddening as he gestured vaguely toward your legs.

You grinned, letting the panties drop to the floor as you stepped out of them. “What? It’s funny!” you said, your voice light and teasing, though your heart was racing in your chest. “This whole thing is—kind of ridiculous, don’t you think?”

Kyle rubbed the back of his neck, the corner of his mouth twitching as he tried to hold back a smile. “Ridiculous?” he repeated, his tone laced with quiet disbelief. “You’re standing there, naked, laughing at me, and you think I’m the ridiculous one?”

You stepped closer, still grinning as you leaned into him, your hands resting on his shoulders. “Yup,” you said simply, popping the p.

Kyle’s hands found your waist instinctively, his touch grounding you as he tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “You say that like you’ve got me all figured out,” he teased, his voice soft but laced with challenge. “Think you’re pretty clever, huh?”

Your heart thudded against your ribs, the weight of his hands grounding you as a nervous, giddy energy bubbled in your chest. You slid your hands over his shoulders, leaning into him with a playful smirk. “Not as clever as you, obviously,” you quipped, the sarcasm dripping from your tone as you climbed onto his lap in one smooth motion, your thighs bracketing his hips.

Kyle scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching as if to suppress a grin. “You’ve got jokes, huh?” he said, his hands settling on your waist, squeezing just enough to make your stomach flip. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he added, “Guess I’ll have to prove you wrong.”

You hummed weakly in reply, the sound barely audible as the movement brought you closer than ever before. The heat of him pressed against your entrance was immediate and overwhelming. His cock, thick and ready, nudged against you, separated only by the thin barrier of the condom.

Kyle’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his brows knitting together as he drew in a shaky breath. His eyes searched yours, a mix of anticipation and disbelief flickering in the green depths. “You okay?” he asked softly, though his hands trembled faintly where they held you.

You nodded, the flush on your cheeks deepening as you bit your lip to stifle another whimper. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice unsteady. “I just…” You trailed off, your chest rising and falling as the heat pooling in your stomach grew unbearable.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers threading into the soft curls at the nape of his neck as you leaned in closer. His breath ghosted over your lips, and the need to kiss him, to feel the softness of his lips against yours again, was overwhelming.

Kyle’s eyes flicked between yours, his gaze dipping briefly to your lips before returning to your face. “You’re staring,” he murmured.

“So are you,” you shot back, the playful edge in your voice faltering as your hips shifted instinctively, the friction between you sending a jolt of heat through your core.

He exhaled sharply, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer as his lips brushed yours in the faintest tease of a kiss. “Can you blame me?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. Closing the small gap between you, you pressed your lips to his in a kiss that was insistent, your fingers curling tighter into his hair as you melted into him. His lips parted against yours, and the warmth of his mouth sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

Kyle broke apart from the kiss and shifted, guiding you carefully toward the center of the bed. The pillows cushioned your back as he hovered over you, the mattress dipping under his weight. One hand braced beside your head, his other resting on your hip, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the moment.

He paused, his eyes sweeping over your face, a poorly concerned smirk dawned on his face.

“What?” you asked, your voice quiet but edged with curiosity, your fingers brushing lightly against the curls falling over his forehead.

Kyle tilted his head slightly, his gaze holding yours as if he was savoring the moment. “I was just thinking,” he said, his tone teasing, “this is a long way from ‘just one kiss for practice.’”

Your stomach flipped at the reminder, your cheeks immediately heating. “Are you seriously bringing that up right now?” you asked, though the slight crack in your voice betrayed your embarrassment.

“Why not?” His smirk deepened, his thumb brushing slow circles into your hip. “It’s where this all started, isn’t it? You were the one who wanted my help, remember?”

You groaned softly, covering your face with your hands for a moment before looking back at him. “God, you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

Kyle laughed, tas he leaned closer. “You were so flustered back then,” he murmured, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “Practically jumped out of your skin every time I got close.”

“That was your fault,” you shot back, your fingers tightening on his shoulders. “You didn’t have to make it so… intense.”

“Intense?” He raised an eyebrow, his smirk softening into something closer to a grin. “I was holding back.”

You let out a short, breathy laugh, your chest brushing against his as you moved beneath him. “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly holding back now.”

Kyle’s eyes gleamed, his grip on your hip tightening slightly as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “No,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not.”

The words sent a shiver racing through you, and your hands slid up to cradle his face, pulling him back toward you. “Kyle,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as your lips hovered just a breath away from his.

His eyes softened, heavy-lidded as they locked onto yours. “Yeah?” he murmured, his voice low, but the look on his face carried more than just desire—it was care, reassurance, and a question all at once.

The weight of him against you was grounding, his cock pressing against your entrance sending a pulse of heat through your body. But the texture of the condom felt strange against your slick skin, a reminder of the uncharted territory you were about to cross. Your fingers slid down to his shoulders, gripping tightly as your breath caught in your throat.

“Will it hurt?” you asked quietly, as you tilted your head slightly, unable to meet his gaze for a moment.

Kyle paused, his expression softened further, the tension in his body easing as he leaned closer. His forehead rested gently against yours, and his breath was warm as he spoke, his voice quiet and reassuring. “Maybe at first,” he admitted, his tone careful. “But I’ll go slow. You’ll tell me how it feels, yeah?”

The care in his words made something in your chest loosen, and you nodded slowly, your fingers tightening against his shoulders. “Okay,” you whispered meekly.

Kyle pressed a kiss to your temple, lingering for a moment before he tilted his head to catch your lips. The kiss was a silent promise he didn’t need to put into words. His hand moved from your cheek, sliding to your waist, holding you steady as he began to press his hips forward slightly.

The initial stretch made your breath stutter, your body instinctively tensing. Your grip on his shoulders tightened, your nails pressing into his skin as you squeezed one eye shut, letting out a small, strained sound.

Kyle froze immediately, his forehead falling to your shoulder as his breath came out in a sharp exhale. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his hands tightening their hold on you. “You’re… fuck, you’re tight.”

The rough edge in his voice sent a jolt of raw arousal straight to your core, and though the stretch was uncomfortable, the way he reacted made you crave more. You shifted slightly beneath him, adjusting to the pressure, biting your lip to muffle a needy sound as the movement made him sink just a little deeper.

His hand slid up to your side, his thumb brushing over your ribs in slow, soothing circles. “You good?” he asked softly, though his voice was strained, his breathing uneven as he fought to stay still.

You nodded, your hands still gripping his shoulders tightly as you whispered, “Yeah. Just… keep going.”

Kyle let out another quiet curse, his lips brushing against your neck as he pulled back just slightly, giving you time to adjust before pressing forward again, his movements slow and careful. The stretch eased little by little, replaced by a growing heat that made your body arch against him, your breaths coming in shallow, trembling gasps.

“Good,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and hoarse. “You’re doing so good.”

The praise ignited a flicker of pride through the haze of overwhelming sensation. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him closer as you gasped softly, your body adjusting to the impossible fullness. Your nails bit into his shoulders, grounding you as you fought the urge to squirm.

A low groan rumbled from Kyle’s throat, his lips brushing over the curve of your neck. He stayed still, not thrusting yet, his cock buried deep inside you. The stretch was too much and exactly what you needed all at once, and your breaths came in uneven bursts.

“You’re tight as hell,” he rasped, his voice breaking on the words. A low chuckle followed, shaky but warm. “It’s fucking unreal.”

His mouth moved lower, his lips leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Each press of his lips sent shivers racing through you, your body responding to every small movement he made. He dipped his head further, his breath hot against your chest before his mouth closed around one of your nipples.

“Fuck—Kyle,” you gasped, your back arching instinctively as his tongue flicked over the sensitive peak. He sucked gently, his hand sliding up to cup the other breast, his thumb brushing circles over the hardened bud.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured between kisses, his words muffled but fervent. “Fucking perfect everywhere.”

A deep ache settled in your pussy, your walls gripping him tight where he stretched you. The pressure was maddening, and every shift sent a pulse straight to your clit. His lips on your chest only added to the tension, making your hips twitch as you craved more. He hadn’t even moved yet, and you were already on edge, desperate for relief.

“Kyle,” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to ground yourself.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark, the pupils blown wide with lust. The intensity in his gaze was enough to make your stomach flip. “You’ve got no idea what you’re doing to me right now,” his voice rough. His hands slid to your waist, gripping you firmly as he willed himself to not move.

Your chest heaved as you squirmed beneath him, the pressure building with every second he stayed buried inside you. “Please,” you whispered, your voice trembling as your hands slid down to his shoulders. “Move.”

He exhaled shakily, his forehead pressing against yours as he murmured, “You sure?”

You nodded, your thighs tightening around his waist as you whispered, “I need it. I need you.”

Kyle groaned again, as he pulled back just enough for you to feel the slow drag of his cock against your walls. The stretch sent a sharp wave of sensation through you, your head falling back as your mouth opened in a breathless gasp.

Each thrust was deliberate, his movements measured as though he was testing how much you could take. The sensation built with every inch of him, the overwhelming fullness making your body feel alive in ways you’d never experienced. Your hands clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as soft, shaky whimpers escaped your lips.

“Kyle,” your voice trembling as his hips moved against yours, his cock pressing into you with every slow thrust. “I can’t… it’s so much.”

“I know,” he rasped, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ve got you. Just feel me.”

You did. Every inch of him, every press of his hips, every brush of his lips against your skin—it was all-consuming. Your body shaked beneath him, your breaths coming in short, uneven bursts as the pleasure built steadily.

His hand slid between your bodies, his thumb brushing over your clit in slow, teasing circles. The added sensation made your back arch, a choked whimper escaping your lips as you clung to him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice low and breathless. “You’re so damn beautiful like this.”

You turned your head slightly, your lips brushing against his jaw as you murmured, “Kiss me.”

Kyle didn’t hesitate, capturing your lips in a kiss that matched the steady rhythm of his thrusts. His tongue brushed against yours, the kiss deep and intimate, leaving you breathless.

When he pulled back, his gaze locked onto yours, his eyes dark and piercing, sending a shiver down your spine. “Tell me how it feels,” he murmured.

Your cheeks burned as you stammered, “It feels… it feels like you’re everywhere.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he leaned in to kiss you again, his pace never faltering. His hand stayed between your thighs, his thumb keeping up its maddening rhythm as his hips moved against yours.

The pleasure built steadily, every movement bringing you closer to the edge, but Kyle didn’t rush. His focus remained on you, his hands and lips and body working in perfect harmony to keep you teetering on the brink.

“Kyle,” you gasped, your voice trembling as you felt the tension coiling tighter in your stomach. “I can’t… I’m so close.”

He groaned softly, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, “Not yet, baby. Hold on for me. I want to feel you fall apart.”

The words sent a shiver racing through you, and you clung to him tighter, your body trembling as you fought to keep yourself together. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breaths, the quiet creak of the mattress, and the faint, wet sounds of his cock sliding into you, driving you both closer to the edge with every deliberate thrust.

Kyle’s lips found yours again, capturing your gasp as his hips stilled momentarily, keeping you on the edge of release but not letting you tip over just yet. “Not yet,” he repeated softly, his voice a gentle command that made your chest tighten and your walls clench around him.

Your walls tightened instinctively around him, and his breath hitched against your mouth, his eyes falling shut for a brief moment as if the feeling was almost too much. The corner of your mouth curved into a small smile, your fingers threading through his messy curls as you tilted your head to study him.

There was something endearing about the way Kyle managed to be so restrained even now, his touch careful despite the want thrumming between you. It was a stark contrast to how you’d seen him act when he argued with Cartman—sharp, aggressive, and unrelenting. Here, though, his intensity was softer, quieter, and it filled you with a warmth that made your chest ache.

You tilted your head further, your eyes catching on the way his freckles were dusted across his flushed skin. “You’re cute when you’re bossy,” you murmured teasingly, your tone light despite the heat blooming between you.

Kyle opened his eyes at that, a faint flush crept up his neck, but he didn’t respond right away. Instead, his hands smoothed over your sides, grounding you in his touch. “You think so?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with.amusement.

Before you could answer, your attention flicked to the faint sound of movement from downstairs—Stan’s laughter, Cartman’s loud complaints, and Kenny’s muffled response. Your face burned, and you bit your lip, turning your head slightly toward the door.

Kyle noticed the shift immediately, his hands pausing on your waist. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone soft but cautious.

“They’ll hear us.” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Kyle let out a quiet laugh, his lips brushing against your temple. “They’re not listening, trust me.”

You glanced at him, your face heating at how nonchalant he seemed about the possibility. “You don’t care?”

“I care about you,” he said simply, his gaze meeting yours with a sincerity that made your breath catch. “That’s all.”

His words sent a fresh wave of warmth through you, but the ease he exuded only made you acutely aware of everything—the wet, sticky sound of him buried inside you, the quiet creak of the mattress, the way his hands lingered on your bare skin. Your breaths mingled in the air between you, your legs tightening around his waist as you arched into him, desperate for him to continue.

Kyle moaned low in his throat, as if your eagerness had undone whatever control he had left. His movements grew erratic, his hips losing rhythm as the tension between you both coiled tighter and tighter. His breaths were uneven, fanning hot against your neck, where his lips grazed your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

His hands slid upward, fingers searching for yours until they intertwined. He squeezed them tightly, as his lips returned to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he bit down gently, his tongue soothing the faint sting.

“God,” he rasped, his voice low and raw. “You’re perfect. Do you feel that? Do you feel how good this is?”

Your lungs stuttered for air, the knot in your stomach winding tighter as his words sent a jolt straight to your core. The ache of his cock pounding you, the weight of his body pinning you down, and the heat radiating between you—it was overwhelming. “Kyle,” you gasped, your voice breaking as your head fell back, exposing the curve of your neck to him like an offering.

His teeth dragged along the curve of your shoulder, his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin in a rhythm that matched his increasingly desperate thrusts. He groaned against you, the sound deep and guttural, as he felt you clench around him.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he murmured, his tone softer now but still tinged with urgency.

You nodded, the movement jerky as your thighs pressed firmly against his hips, your nails digging into his hands. “I can’t,” you choked out, your voice breaking.

“You can,” Kyle whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. His voice was steady, reassuring, even as his own breaths came in short, ragged bursts. “Let go. I’m right here.”

The gravelly edge in his voice pushed you past the breaking point, your back arching as a raw, unrestrained cry escaped your lips. Your walls fluttered and gripped him tightly, your entire body shaking as the release consumed you. The intensity crashed over you in relentless waves, leaving you clutching at him desperately, your breaths shallow and broken as you rode out the bliss.

Kyle moaned, the sound muffled against your neck as he buried himself deep inside you. His fingers squeezed yours tightly, his hips faltering as his release followed yours, filling the condom as his body shuddered against yours. His teeth grazed your shoulder again, followed by soft, lingering kisses as he tried to catch his breath.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the room filled with the sound of your shared, uneven breathing. Kyle’s forehead rested against your shoulder, his fingers still tangled with yours. The weight of Kyle’s body pressed against yours, warm and grounding, his breath hot and uneven against your neck. His curls tickled your cheek, damp with sweat, and the faint scent of him—soap and salt and something wholly Kyle—filled the air between you.

You blinked at the ceiling, your vision blurry and unfocused, your chest heaving as you tried to process everything. The warm, sticky press of the condom against your walls reminded you of just how close you’d been, how real this was.

Kyle didn’t move, his body heavy and relaxed atop yours, his face still buried in the crook of your neck. His fingers twitched against yours, the faintest squeeze, as though he was reassuring himself you were still there.

Your lips parted, but no words came. What could you even say? The knot in your stomach hadn’t fully untangled, and your mind felt like static, replaying moments of his lips on your skin, the way he had moaned your name like it meant something sacred.

Kyle shifted slightly, his weight pressing more firmly into you before he seemed to catch himself. His head lifted just enough that his nose brushed your temple, and his voice came, low and hoarse. “Are you okay?”

His question was soft, almost hesitant, but there was no mistaking the concern in it. You nodded faintly, your fingers tightening around his. “Yeah,” you whispered.

Kyle’s eyes softened, a flicker of relief crossing his features. He pressed a kiss to your temple, lingering there for a moment before shifting his weight onto his forearms to ease the pressure on you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shook your head quickly, your cheeks heating. “No,” you said quietly, glancing away. “Not at all.”

His lips lifted into a small, almost shy smile, and he tilted his head, studying your face. “Good,” he murmured. His hand disentangled from yours to brush a strand of hair from your forehead, his touch tender.

You squirmed slightly beneath him, your body still sensitive, the lingering fullness of him inside you making your stomach flip. Your mind reeled, looping the same realization over and over again: Kyle Broflovski is your boyfriend. You just had sex. You just had sex with your childhood best friend.

The thought was dizzying, almost surreal, and the weight of it had your cheeks burning. You tried to shift your gaze away from him, hoping to clear your head, but Kyle caught the movement, his brows furrowing slightly.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat in your cheeks spread down your neck. “I… I just…” You paused, your hands nervously smoothing over his shoulders before dropping to the sheets. “I’m trying to wrap my head around this.”

Kyle tilted his head, his green eyes searching yours. “Wrap your head around what?”

“That this happened,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Your fingers twisted in the sheets as your eyes flickered back to him. “That we happened. That you’re…” You trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

“That I’m your boyfriend?” he finished, his lips quirking into a soft smile.

You nodded quickly, your heart pounding as his words echoed in your mind. Boyfriend. Kyle Broflovski is your boyfriend.

Kyle’s smile widened slightly, and he leaned down, his curls brushing against your cheek as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “It’s not that weird, is it?” he teased gently, though there was a faint nervousness in his voice.

“It’s insane,” you blurted, your words rushing out before you could stop them. You quickly shook your head, your hands flying up to cover your face. “No, wait, I didn’t mean it like that—”

Kyle chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear as he shifted to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. “Relax,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin. “I know what you mean.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, your face still burning. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” he said simply. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around it too. This is… it’s a lot. But it’s good. Right?”

His question hung in the air, and a lump rose in your throat as you thought about it. It was a lot—more than you’d ever expected or imagined—but as you looked at him, the way his green eyes softened when he met your gaze, the way his touch grounded you, you realized there was no hesitation in your answer.

“It’s good,” you whispered, your voice steadying as you spoke. “It’s really good.”

Kyle’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he let out a soft breath, almost as if he’d been holding it. His hands cupped your face gently, his thumbs tracing soothing patterns on your cheeks. When he leaned down to kiss you, his lips were soft and unhurried, moving against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache. It wasn’t rushed or demanding—every brush of his lips spoke of care, of longing, and of a quiet vulnerability that words could never convey.

As he pulled back, his gaze softened, and he shifted slightly as if to pull out of you. But before he could move far, you tightened your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Can we just… stay like this for a while?” your voice barely audible, your cheeks warming as you avoided his eyes.

Kyle’s eyes flicked to yours, surprise flashing across his face before it melted into something gentler. He exhaled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Yeah,” he said simply. Slowly, he leaned forward, his forehead brushing against your shoulder before he let himself rest against you, his breath warm against the curve of your neck. “We can stay.”

A sense of calm settled over you, like the weight of the moment had finally lifted. His presence beside you felt steady and familiar, the quiet filling the space with an ease you hadn’t realized you needed. The gentle sound of his breathing created a soothing rhythm, anchoring you in the here and now.

Time seemed to stretch, the two of you existing in a bubble of shared warmth and quiet understanding. But the peace was short-lived.

Heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs, the unmistakable sound of someone stomping on purpose—a Cartman classic. Your stomach dropped, panic flashing through you as you remembered where you were.

Cartman’s house.

You barely had time to process the thought before it hit.

A loud, exaggerated moan pierced through the silence, high-pitched and theatrical. “Oh, Kyle!” came Kenny’s voice, dragging out the name in a dramatic, singsong wail that reverberated through the house.

Your body went rigid, your face heating instantly as you clamped your hands over your mouth to stifle a groan of embarrassment.

It didn’t stop there.

“God, you’re so—ah! Fuck, baby!” Cartman’s voice followed, mimicking Kyle with mock desperation and over-the-top grunts that had you wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

Slapping noises echoed next, likely Kenny or Stan clapping their hands together to make it worse. “Do you like that, [Y/N]? Huh?!” Cartman cackled, his voice devolving into laughter that was quickly joined by the others.

Kyle froze, his head lifting from your neck as his entire body tensed. His face flushed bright red, a mix of mortification and anger flashing in his eyes as he muttered, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Oh my God,” you whispered, your voice muffled by your hands.

Kenny’s voice came again, high and mocking. “Don’t stop, Kyle! You’re so amazing—fuck, I’m cumming!”

The wheezing cackle that followed could only be Stan, his laughter so loud and uncontrolled that it shook the walls.

Kyle sat up slightly, his jaw tightening as he glared toward the door. “They’re dead,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m going to kill them.”

You quickly grabbed his wrist, your legs clamping around him as you hissed, “Kyle, don’t! You’ll just make it worse!”

“How could it possibly get worse?” Kyle snapped, his voice low but edged with frustration.

As if on cue, Cartman’s voice boomed through the house again. “Oh, [Y/N],” he mocked in an exaggerated falsetto. “We’ll figure it out together, baby. I promise.”

Your hands flew up to cover your face again, a groan of sheer humiliation escaping your lips as Cartman and Kenny’s laughter rang out.

“They’re such assholes,” you muttered, your voice muffled.

Kyle didn’t respond immediately. His jaw was set, his green eyes burning with frustration as he shifted slightly, clearly torn between staying and storming out to confront them.

“Kyle, please,” you begged, tugging lightly at his wrist. “Don’t. Just ignore them. They’re being stupid.”

Kyle exhaled sharply, his hands running through his messy curls as he muttered, “They’re always stupid.”

Another loud, exaggerated moan echoed, followed by Kenny’s voice shouting, “Oh my God, Kyle, don’t stop!”

Kyle buried his face in his hands, letting out a groan of frustration. “I hate them,” he muttered. “I seriously hate them.”

Despite your mortification, a small, nervous laugh bubbled out of you. “You’re not the only one,” you said, your voice still shaky.

Kyle glanced at you, his lips twitching despite himself. “You’re laughing?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” you shot back, your face still red as you tried to smother another laugh. “You had to know this was coming.”

Kyle groaned again, but this time it was tinged with reluctant amusement. He shook his head, leaning back down to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re lucky I like you,” he muttered.

You smiled faintly, your fingers brushing through his damp curls as you whispered, “Yeah. I guess I am.”

this was super fun to write hehe | part one

#south park x reader #south park x y/n #kyle broflovski x reader #south park smut #i wanna be your boyfriend m!list #x reader #fem reader

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sapphire-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Girl In The Bar (modern hospital AU)

Do No Harm part 1 || masterlist || next part

pairing: doctor!Aemond Targaryen x doctor!Reader

summary: Your internship begins at Citadel General Hospital. But your first day does not go according to plan as a familiar face appears.

word count: 4.3k

note: here we go! my little celebration piece, the beginning of a new AU/mini-series! thank you so so much for all the love and support ❤️

warnings below the cut!

warnings: medical terminology, stitches/sutures, mentions of blood, concussions, nausea, referencing spicy times but nothing explicit in this chapter

disclaimer: yall, I am not a doctor, I am simply a Grey's Anatomy stan. If something is off or incorrect please just suspend your disbelief! I am trying my best to make it as accurate as possible but its just for fun!!

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

You’d been preparing for this. That’s what you keep telling yourself as you stand outside the doors of Citadel General Hospital. Four grueling years of med school weren’t for nothing. Your heart beats steadily, only slightly quicker than usual as you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

You can’t help but stare up at the large building in front of you, watching the sunlight reflect off of the many windows, obscuring the view of the occupants inside.

“Are you going in?” a girl says sliding up beside you, curly brown hair flowing freely around her face. She gives you a crooked smile, tilting her chin to signal you inside. There’s a faded scar across the bridge of her nose along with a dusting of freckles.

“Can’t believe it’s the first day,” she sighs as the doors open and you follow her inside, “We met at the intern mixer briefly.”

The mixer was held a few weeks ago. You'd met most of the other medical interns and gotten a tour of the hospital. CGH is massive; it’ll take time to learn the lay of the land. You follow her down the hall towards the intern locker rooms. Scrubs wait for you and you hurriedly begin to change into them. Nettles scoops her hair into a large bun on top of her head, wrapping a scrunchie around the mess of curls.

“Right,” you say, nodding as you remember her, “It’s Annette, right?”

“Nettles,” she corrects, “Family nickname. Though from what I’ve heard, they barely refer to us by our first names.”

“That’s correct,” a guy says, throwing on his scrub top, “Be prepared to change your name to whatever your last name is.”

The guy glances at you, cheeks flushing. He rubs his dark curls out of his eyes, adjusting his light blue scrub top before extending his hand for you to shake.

“Jace Velaryon,” he introduces, squeezing your hand, “Or just Velaryon I guess.”

“Do you know who your resident is yet?” you ask, just as a woman in dark blue scrubs enters the room. Her red hair is held behind a scrub cap decorated with silver eagles. She holds a clipboard tightly in her hands, tapping a pen against the metal.

“Velaryon, Waters, Martell, Snow, and…” she pauses, before reading your last name, “You five. Baratheon will meet you at the nurses' station. Three minutes.”

You hurriedly lace your sneakers as a locker from across the room slams shut. A woman with long ink-black hair elegantly plaited down her back hurries forward.

“Thank you Dr. Arryn,” she calls, as the woman leaves the room.

Another young woman hurries from around the corner of lockers, struggling to pull her thick brown hair into a ponytail, “She didn’t say Baratheon, did she?” she asks, as her hair tie snaps.

You reach into the pocket of your scrubs, holding out the spare you have. She smiles gratefully as she accepts it.

“Sara Snow,” she introduces, “We’re sure she said Baratheon?”

“Sure did,” the girl with the braid says, her dark eyes wide, “Cory Martell. Nice to meet you all for whatever time we have left.”

Jace chuckles nervously as Cory fiddles with her braid, taking a sudden interest in the ends of her hair.

“What’s that mean?” Jace asks, looking at you all as you don’t respond, “Hello?”

“Ballbuster Baratheon,” Sara says with barely an audible whisper.

“Ah shit,” Nettles says, tilting her head back as she groans.

“Am I the only one who is lost?” Jace asks, “He can’t be so bad.”

Nettles only shrugs but gives you a wink before pushing forward out the door. You hurry after her, the rest of your cohort stumbling not far behind. The nurses’ station is bustling with people; the phones ringing continuously.

Cory stands up straighter, flipping her braid over her shoulder.

“Do you see him?” Jace asks, looking down the hallway.

“See who?” a doctor comments, eyeing Jace carefully.

She’s wearing similar blue scrubs and holding a clipboard, black hair cut bluntly at her chin.

“Dr. Baratheon,” Jace comments, still looking off in the distance, “Heard he’s a hard ass.”

The doctor raises an eyebrow at him, fire in her cobalt blue eyes. She wets her lips, before folding her arms in front of her, holding her clipboard against her stomach.

“Very interesting Dr. Velaryon, assuming the scary resident is a man,” the doctor comments, flipping through her charts.

Jace’s face turns beet red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Sara glances at him, a pitying look on her face whilst Nettles attempts to hide her snicker with a cough. You elbow her slightly in the ribs and her eyes widen in feigned shock.

“I didn’t—” Jace begins to ramble before being cut off.

“I didn’t ask,” Dr. Baratheon says, waving him off, “I’m Dr. Maris Baratheon, you may call me Dr. Baratheon. Not Maris, not Mari, not Baratheon. Is that understood?”

You all nod eagerly, mumbling your agreement, Jace looking rather pained.

“You’re interns,” Maris says, deep blue eyes scanning over you, “Runts—bottom of the food chain. Extensions of me-but don’t get in my way. When I move, you move. You will observe, you will listen and you will learn.”

She lets her gaze fall on each of you as she speaks, her tone not very friendly.

“You are my interns. My responsibility. You fuck up, it falls back on me,” she says, pointing her finger at each of you, ��Do you think I like fucking up?”

“No ma’am,” Jace says, shaking his head back and forth.

“Correct,” Dr. Baratheon says.

The pager strapped to her waist beeps frantically and she glances down, before nodding; more to herself than to all of you.

“Let’s move people,” she says, moving down the hallway.

You all begin shuffling behind her, quickening your pace to match the urgency of her walk.

“I’m an idiot,” Jace says miserably, “She’s going to hate me forever.”

“Probably,” Nettles says with a snicker.

“She won’t hate you, she’ll understand you’re learning,” Sara insists.

“Oh yeah, she seems super understanding,” Cory agrees, but one glance at her reveals her sarcasm.

Dr. Baratheon stops outside a room before turning back to the lot of you. You all nearly collide with each other trying to stop in time; Jace slams into Sara’s back and she pushes him with her shoulder. Cory reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small notepad and pen.

“Who has been prepping my charts?” Dr. Baratheon asks, rolling her eyes at your scrambling. Your hand shoots into the air along with the rest of your cohort, “Good, you’re not entirely useless.”

Dr. Baratheon opens the door, walking inside the airy hospital room. The windows are large, letting in rays of sunlight along with a beautiful view of the Honeywine River. It’s a clear day today, the blue water ripples and sparkles as some boats make their way further down the mouth of the river.

“Come on in,” Dr. Baratheon insists, “Someone tell me what’s been going on.”

A girl sits on the hospital bed, tubes, and wires twisting away from her, a stuffed lion held tightly in her small arms. Her golden hair lays flat against her head and though her skin is pale, she smiles when Dr. Baratheon enters the room. A woman you assume to be her mother sits beside her, looking tired as she holds a cup of ice.

“Cerelle Lannister, nine-year-old female,” Nettles begins, lacing her hands behind her back and straightening her shoulders, “Admitted while complaining of fever and muscle spasms localized to the lower body.”

“Thank you, Dr. Waters,” Dr. Baratheon says, walking to check the chart at the foot of her bed, “How are we feeling this morning Cece?”

Dr. Baratheon’s voice changes as she talks to Cece; it takes on a more caring, comforting tone. Cece smiles nervously, turning her flushed face to her mother.

“She’s okay,” her mother answers, “The spasms seem to be about the same. Nurses said her fever broke last night.”

“I’ve eaten so much ice, my tongue is numb,” Cece says, sticking her tongue out, “See? I bet it's blue.”

Sara giggles at the action and you can’t help but smile too. You hate seeing such a young kid in the hospital, it makes your chest tighten.

“No blue tongue. But I guess you’re not interested in ice cream for dessert later?” Dr. Baratheon teases.

Cece’s eyes widen and she shakes her head vigorously.

“Let’s not talk crazy now,” she squeaks, “I am always interested in ice cream.”

“Just making sure,” Dr. Baratheon says, cracking her first smile of the day, “Dr. Snow, how would you proceed?”

Sara stiffens at the sound of her name, clearing her throat.

“Muscle spasms can indicate an overuse of the muscle or perhaps an electrolyte imbalance,” Sara begins, as though reciting from a textbook, “I would make sure she’s getting enough fluids and rest, get some labs done to confirm.”

“And after that?”

“Potentially a CT scan and MRI to rule out any potential nerve damage that may be contributing to the spasms.”

“What about the fever?”

“Fever is an immune response that indicates potential infection,” Cory interrupts, “We want to rule out a viral or bacterial infection.”

“Which first?”

“Rule out the infection first,” you interject, causing Dr. Baratheon to turn to you, “More likely bacterial than viral. Ms. Lannister doesn’t have symptoms.”

“Alright, yes,” Dr. Baratheon agrees, “What should we do if we think it's bacterial?”

“Gather a culture,” you continue, “Skin, nose, saliva. Run labs for those as well to rule them out.”

“Well Cece,” Dr. Baratheon says, turning back to the child, “You’ve got a competent group of doctors caring for you. We’re going to do our best to get you better.”

Mrs. Lannister squeezes her daughter's hand. Cece smiles shyly, holding her stuffed lion closer to her chest.

You stand in line for lunch in the bustling cafeteria. Quick lunch, and then off to run for labs for Cerelle Lannister. Different options are laid out in front of you as you drag your tray alongside Jace’s. He’s still moping-- has been all morning. Sara rolls her eyes at him as he drops a banana onto his plate.

“You need to chill,” she tells him, reaching for a turkey club.

“How do I come back from this?” Jace asks, reaching for a cup. He moves to the soda machine, choosing to fill it with cherry coke, “She wants me dead.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you tell him, fighting a smile.

“I’m serious!” he says, eyes wide, “She could make or break my entire career based on this slip-up, put me in the pit for the year.”

You decide on a chicken Caesar wrap before scanning the cafeteria for a free table. You spot Nettles a few tables away, leaning back in her chair and munching on a bag of potato chips. She waves you over and you motion to your colleagues to follow.

“So you’ll do the time, pay your dues, all that jazz,” you console Jace.

“Yeah, but--shit!” Jace yelps as you reach the table, his cup falling to the floor. Reddish brown liquid blooms on the white floor and Jace groans, “This day keeps getting worse.”

“C’mon, let’s get some paper towels,” Sara says, putting her tray down and grabbing Jace’s arm.

Nettles watches them walk away, unmoving from her spot as you take the seat beside her.

“What a drama queen,” Nettles comments.

“I mean, if I pissed off Ballbuster Baratheon, I’d be pretty upset too,” you tell her, giving a sympathetic smile.

“You’re too smart to make that mistake,” Nettles comments, and a pleasant prideful feeling lodges in your chest.

You smile at her.

“Thanks,” you tell Nettles and she shrugs.

“Just being truthful,” she says, “I briefed everyone before we started. You’re rather impressive.”

“You briefed everyone?”

“I like to know who I’ll be working with,” she says nonchalantly.

You nod, impressed by her dedication. You take a bite of your wrap, wincing slightly at the soggy texture of the lettuce. It’s edible. You doubt you’ll have anything to complain about when the hospital is working you into the ground. Your eyes scan the cafeteria as you chew, taking in the other doctors in the cafeteria.

Your eyes drift over to a pair of residents near the vending machine; a man and a woman both with strikingly platinum blonde hair. The taller of the two has it pulled away from his chiseled face and into a low bun. As he turns your heart drops into your stomach.

“Shit,” you whisper, feeling the blood drain from your face.

“What?” Nettles asks, examining her half-eaten sandwich, “I mean it's bad, but not that bad. They have hot dogs on Fridays.”

“Not the food,” you explain, “The doctor.”

Nettles follows your gaze toward Aemond as he’s lost in conversation with the other resident. Her eyes flicker between you two, eyebrows raising to her hairline.

“You know him?”

“Know who?” Cory asks as she arrives, sitting in the empty chair beside you, “This food looks nasty…”

“I need to go,” you tell them, standing with your tray, “I need to--” It’s too late when you realize you’d stepped right into the spilled soda, your feet going out from under you.

You drop onto your back with a loud thud, head smacking against the linoleum floor.

“Fuck! Are you okay?” Nettles asks, crouching beside you. You blink rapidly, stars in your vision from the impact, “Shit, Y/N you’re bleeding don’t move! Head injury, you could have internal bleeding-”

“I’m okay,” you insist, trying to sit up, “I’m just….woah.” A wave of nausea rolls through you and you lean back against the ground, “Maybe I do just need a moment.”

Your vision blurs but you can see his lean silhouette in the distance. Through your haze, you swear you see his body language change, his posture stiffen, and your lunch lurches in your stomach.

“You’re concussed,” Jace insists crouching beside you, “Don’t move. You’ve cut your head too…”

“My head?” you ask, bringing a hand to your temple, feeling wetness on your palm, “Fucking hell.”

You’re staring blankly at the ceiling, mortification settling in your bones as your colleagues chatter around you.

“What is going on?” Dr. Baratheon’s voice echoes through the cafeteria, “Y/L/N?”

“Yes Dr. B?” you mumble, earning a chuckle from Cory.

“I’m going to let that one slide because you’re likely concussed,” Dr. Baratheon says, “Velaryon, Waters, get her to a bed.” She grumbles, moving on with Cory and Nettles, “I’d like to keep my interns in one piece please.”

The night before the first day of your internship you couldn’t sleep. Call it nerves, call it excitement, one thing was for sure; there was no way you were finding sleep at a reasonable hour. So you decided to grab a drink. Something to calm your nerves.

Just a few blocks from your studio apartment was a small hole-in-the-wall bar, the Dragon’s Den. One drink to calm your nerves, that’s all you needed. You’d sat at the bar alone for a while, sipping your wine and reading yet another smutty romance on your Kindle.

You’d noticed him come in, of course. It was hard not to notice him.

He was truly beautiful; with striking platinum hair braided away from his face and down his back. Chiseled jawline, long straight nose, and those eyes. One violet, one blue, watching you from across the room. Your cheeks warmed as you buried your nose back into your book.

He’d caught you staring.

He’d joined you at the bar; slightly awkward, but confident enough to strike up a conversation with you. Ask what you were drinking. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body, and count the veins winding their way up the back of his hands.

“You’re a long way from Riverlands,” you’d commented as he’d told you where he was from.

“My sister dragged me out,” he’d told you, “I’ve just recently moved back here, to be closer to family.”

“I have a new job starting tomorrow,” you’d told him, causing him to raise an eyebrow at you.

“Congratulations,” he’d said, smiling as though he genuinely was happy for the stranger he met at the bar.

He’d bought you a drink, saddled up next to you. Listened intently as you spoke to him about your hobbies, your interests. Watching you the entire time with intense focus.

“I don’t normally do this,” he’d insisted as you pulled him towards you outside the bar.

“Me either,” you agreed. It didn’t matter if it was true or not; it's what people say when they make reckless decisions.

Fingers fisting into his button-down shirt, you’d pressed your lips eagerly against his. You hadn’t been kissed like this in forever. Hadn’t been touched like this, been fucked like this.

You’d brought him home, walking the short distance hand in hand taking breaks in between for him to press you against the brick walls of the buildings you passed, let you wrap your legs around his waist as he kissed the life out of you.

You’d stumbled into your apartment desperately peeling the clothes from your body and his. Greedy hands, greedy mouths, and lipstick smeared across his cheeks and chest. Fingers, tongue, a combination of the two, and then his cock splitting you in half, pounding you into the mattress.

He’d made you cum five times.

Five times, during a one-night stand. You could barely feel your legs as you drifted off to sleep.

You’d woken early the following day, stumbling out of bed and into your small kitchenette as the lanky stranger gathered his things.

“Aemond,” he’d told you, with a shy grin as he entered his number into your phone.

How anyone could be shy after that bedroom performance was beyond you.

“I’ll text you,” you’d promised him, as he opened the door.

“Have a great first day.”

Somehow, Jace and Sara get you to a bed, secluded with some curtains. You can’t believe he’s here. He’s a resident. In every hospital possible, it had to be this one. By the looks of it, he wasn’t expecting to see you as well.

The curtain opens and an attending enters the small bedside area, flipping through the papers on his clipboard. Dark hair and eyes he glances up at you, a small smile on his lips.

“Not every day an intern lands in a hospital bed,” he comments, ushering you forward.

You sit up, groaning slightly at the throbbing in your head.

“Didn’t do it on purpose,” you grumble, and he flashes you a grin.

“Follow the light,” he softly commands, clicking his penlight and moving it in front of your face.

You blink, but obey; following the bright light.

“Good,” he murmurs, “Now follow my finger.” He does the same motion with his finger, “Pupils look good, any pain?”

“Just where I hit,” you tell him, “Will I need stitches?”

“Just a few,” he says, bringing a gloved hand to move your hair, “A small split. Bleeds a lot more than it's worth.”

“Not my first rodeo,” you tell him, as he reaches for some gauze, “You’re the neuro attending?”

“One of them,” he comments, applying some dap gauze to your wound, cleaning it gently, “I’m Dr. Cole.”

You tell him yours and he nods, a glimmer of recognition in his eye.

“I read your resume,” he muses, discarding the bloodied gauze, “Your thesis was very interesting.”

“Thank you,” you told him, remembering your research, “I enjoy research a lot.”

“Plenty of opportunities here,” he says, removing his gloves, “I’ll have Dr. Targareyn come stitch you up.”

Your heart leaps into your throat, “Can’t I just use some butterfly bandages?”

He shakes his head, pursing his lips.

“Don’t want to scar up that pretty face,” he comments, “Targaryen doesn’t mind, he enjoys the practice.”

You chew on your lip as Dr. Cole leaves the room. Several moments later the curtain opens and Aemond steps forward. He’s just as beautiful as last night and your pulse quickens remembering your time spent together.

“Hey,” you manage as Aemond clears his throat.

Aemond stands awkwardly stiff, before moving to the stool Dr. Cole previously occupied. He doesn’t speak, just uses his long legs to pull himself closer to you. He readies a tray, grabbing a suture kit and lidocaine. You watch his tense, calculated movements before he turns to you.

“This may sting,” he murmurs, as the tip of the needle enters your skin causing you to wince.

The lidocaine works fast, and the area begins to tingle with numbness. Carefully disposing of the needle, Aemond grabs the suture and begins his work. You can feel his hands on you, and watch his face as he stares at his handiwork.

He won’t meet your eyes.

“We didn’t know,” you tell him, feeling the tugging of the sutures, “Aemond-”

“No,” he answers, “You’re right of course. No harm, no foul. But this can’t happen again. I’m your superior.”

“Superior? It’s not like you’re an attending,” you tell him.

“No but I’m in a position of power and authority over you,” he continues, “The implications of a workplace relationship between the two of us would be an uneven distribution of power.”

“Okay, we slept together once,” you tell him, “No one’s saying we’re in a relationship-”

“Then you agree,” he counters, “We shut this down before it really starts.”

That’s not exactly what you were thinking as you reminisce about the previous night. Staring into his eyes only makes your cheeks grow hotter, a nervous sweat begins to form on your brow.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, your heartbeat suddenly noticeable; a gentle flutter against your ribcage.

“It’s not about want,” Aemond insists, avoiding your gaze and focusing solely on his suturing, “It’s about being dutiful, and doing what’s right. What’s expected of us.”

Goodbye guy in the bar, you think to yourself, heart sinking slightly at the thought.

“Yeah, sure,” you tell him as he cuts the final stitch, “I’m not going to say anything.”

“You’re all set,” he tells you, moving to stand, “Think you can take them out on your own in a week?”

“If not, I know where to find you,” you quip.

Aemond stands next to the tray of instruments, freezing as he awkwardly glances at you sideways. His posture is tense. You let out a nervous breath at his startled reaction. The sex god you met last night is nowhere to be found. He flexes his hand before shoving it into the pocket of his white coat.

“That was a joke,” you tell him, earning a curt nod, “One week. Got it.”

You hear the sharp voice of Dr. Baratheon call your last name before the curtain is yanked back. Her eyes find Aemond immediately, lips forming a tight pout.

“Dr. Targareyn,” she says apprehensively, as though she’s watching him very carefully.

Aemond nods acknowledging her before she turns to you.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

“I’m fine,” you assure her, “I have to run those labs for Cerelle Lannister-”

“Martell is covering that,” Dr. Baratheon cuts you off, “You have a head injury. I want you home for the remainder of the day.”

“Dr. Baratheon-” you insist, but she holds up her hand.

“Come back tomorrow,” Dr. Baratheon tells you and reluctantly nods.

You suppose going home isn’t the worst idea.

“Let’s get you an Uber,” Dr. Baratheon says.

“I can drive her,” Aemond says suddenly. His eyes are wide before he casts his gaze to the floor as if he can’t believe the words left his mouth.

You watch him carefully.

“Okay,” you tell him.

Aemond’s car is nice. Clean, like he just bought it. He very well might have, now that you think of it since he moved to the area so recently. The ride is silent besides the sound of the air coming through the vents.

“Thank you,” you tell him, as he pulls up to your apartment complex.

“No drinking any alcohol,” Aemond says, still not meeting your eyes, “Make sure to get plenty of rest and monitor your symptoms. Do not feel any pressure to come back to work tomorrow if you’re not up for it.”

You nod and his gaze flickers to your face. He wets his lips, tongue darting out quickly. It might be the concussion, but you can remember how it felt. How he tasted. Fuck.

“I got it,” you assure him, unbuckling your seatbelt.

He nods, unlocking the car doors before getting out. Aemond walks around the front of the car, opening the door for you.

“I’ll walk you up,” he insists, and you nod, taking the hand he offers.

He remembers your unit. The entire elevator ride is full of tension as you wait to reach your floor. As you walk down the hallway. As you get to your door.

You turn to him, wanting to invite him inside if only for a cup of tea to thank him for being so kind. If only to keep him near your longer.

But Aemond nods curtly as you unlock the door.

“Have a nice day, Dr. Y/L/N,” he says, turning on his heel and heading down the hallway. You watch him flex his fingers again, before shoving them into his pocket.

“Goodbye Aemond,” you call, and he pauses, hand outstretched to press the elevator button.

His head dips for a brief moment before he straightens up as the elevator doors open and he disappears inside. Your heart hammers as he turns, giving you a nod once more, before the doors close obscuring him from your view.

You exhale the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Before tucking yourself into your bed, you lean against your window which gives a view down to the front of the apartment. Clouds have gathered and fat drops of rain begin to fall, splashing onto Aemond’s car still parked below. You watch as the lights come on, but he stays idling a moment more.

Your phone vibrates.

Reaching for it you can’t help but smile as you see the message.

note: hope you liked it!! again, thank you thank you THANK YOU for all the love and support for my silly little stories, y'all are seriously the best for real 🥹

Series Taglist: @witches-of-discovery-a @mooncalvin @rwdkarla, @spinachtz, @arcielee, @castellomargot, @bellaisasleep, @wintrr13, @angel6776, @watercolorskyy @hogwarts1207, @gibbsgirl7, @high-on-darren-criss, @theshatteredideal, @elizarbell, @hiraethrhapsody, @helaenaluvr

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